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Chapter 5

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After a hurried and inexpensive dinner, thanks to the imposed limits imposed upon them by Artie, they spread a map across the table and charted the cases reported. To their chagrin, there was no obvious pattern except that the occurrences weren't as numerous in the more affluent section of the city. But that wasn't conclusive because, even there, two attacks had been reported.

"The same wolf roaming?" Myka wondered aloud. "And bears have been known to cover a huge territory when they are looking for food."

"I don't know," Pete said with a quick shake of his head. He took a sip of his cooling coffee and a bite of apple pie. "Maybe." He held out his hand, snapped his fingers because his mouth was full and bulging from pie, and pointed at her purse. She gave him a disapproving stare but retrieved the Farnsworth.

Artie took his sweet time answering the summons. "What's up?" he asked without preamble. He looked disheveled and tired. Claudia passed behind him, placed both hands on his shoulders and leaned over him to wave "hi". Artie's eyes closed in that way parents had of tolerating a child's wearisome behavior. When he opened them again, he face grew concerned.

"What happened to you? You look awful."

"An unfortunate meeting with a lamp post a little while ago," Pete mumbled as he gingerly touched the purpling lump on his cheek.

"A lamp post?"

"Yeah, they still have them in this part of town. I wasn't watching where I was going…well, I thought I was watching where I was going but obviously not cuz there it was. Jumped out at me, beat the crap out of me, and then laughed…loudly. Oh wait, I lied, that was Myka laughing at me. My bad." He turned a hostile glance in his partner's direction but she laughed it off loudly enough for Artie to hear. Artie flashed a brief smile but hid it quickly.

"Anything worthwhile to report?"

"Nothing much. You probably have heard it all already. We talked to the victims who survived and most of the witnesses. Same stuff as in the articles with some personal embellishment. On a positive note, we're hoping to patrol the area where the wolf was running around. Maybe get a chance to see it for ourselves. Maybe even take it down with the Tesla. Get animal control to take over from there. It may not answer any questions but at least one killer will be off the streets."

"Sounds reasonable. Any 'vibes' when you questioned people?"

"Nope. None. Problem is that we can track these attacks all we want, but so far there is no common denominator for artifact activity. Of the six reported attacks so far, four didn't make it. The other two were bitten, clawed or assaulted by smaller predatory animals or the ram. Neither of them seemed to have anything in common or to come in contact with anything unusual.

"Okay, you sound like you've got it all covered. Just watch yourselves, keep your eyes open, and don't take any unnecessary chances. The usual. Bye!"

"Ahhh, gotta love the boss's pep talks," Pete said around his last mouthful of pie. He pulled out some cash to pay for the meal. The waitress retrieved it and came back with their change and a receipt which Pete stuffed into his wallet for reimbursement. He left a tip and then stood up. The movement, as quick and assured as usual, caused him to bump the table, nearly overturned the half-filled glasses of water. Only Myka's quick hands saved them from spilling.

"I'm staying away from you," she joked once everything on the table was safe from breakage.

"Funny!" Pete muttered through gritted teeth. "Come on, let's get out of here and start patrolling. It'll be getting dark soon."

After a very long and very fruitless search, the agents retired to their rooms for the night. Sleep, when it finally arrived, was fitful and full of stalking beasts jumping on them from the shadows or attacking when they least expected it.

First thing the following morning, after about three hours of sleep, Pete was awakened by a cell phone call from Artie telling him to turn on the TV and then he promptly hung up. Nielsen had sounded stressed out and exhausted, irked and confused, all rolled up into one weird tone of voice.

Consequently, Pete wasted no time, manually switching it on and tuning in to the news programs. Myka joined him a short time later and both of them were informed by a pudgy and balding newscaster that three more animal attacks had been reported during the night. Two resulted in deaths leaving behind mauled and mutilated bodies in the middle of city streets. The third was reported to be by an eagle that had swooped down from a perch high above on an apartment building and whose talons had ripped into some guy's scalp. He'd successfully driven it off but ended up in the ER a half hour later, bloody and bewildered and swearing it was a bald eagle. The raptor, he'd told them, had not given up easily, giving the man an excellent view of his attacker.

Pulling out her laptop, Myka scrolled through the local online newspaper reports. A part of her felt the connection across the miles to Artie and the Warehouse. Doubtless, he was keying up similar articles, perhaps even the same one, and this thought gave her some comfort and a sense of connectedness to the place she'd been calling home for so many months.

When Pete finally came back from his breakfast run, he looked decidedly unhappy and coffee-stained.

"What happened to you?" she queried as she took in the sodden brown patch running from chest pocket to belt line.

"Skateboarder plowed into me as I was walking back," he growled at the memory. With visible effort, he calmed himself down. Normally, it was tough to ruffle his proverbial feathers but things hadn't been going his way lately and it both angered and perturbed him. "Next time I take the car."

"If it'll start for you," Myka replied with a grin.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Absolutely. Well, not the part where you get hurt of course, but you've had a really rotten streak of bad luck lately, haven't you?" She took a cup of coffee, black and sugarless, and sipped cautiously at it.

Their train of thought was interrupted by another breaking news story, this time about a trampling by some large mammal in the pre-dawn hours of the morning.

"So far, all at night," Myka murmured around the rim of her cup. "And this wasn't too far from here, practically right around the corner." Her green eyes swung in that general direction even though she didn't possess the ability or the artifact to see through walls.

Pete leaned back against the headboard and ate his Breakfast Croissant in three big bites. He downed some of the hashbrowns, popping them up and into his mouth like pieces of candy.

Ignoring the show, Myka continued to read the information on the screen until she heard a strangled gasp. As she hopped up, adrenalin spiraling outward in heated waves, she caught the startled look on Pete's face…that awful wide eyed, hands to the throat stare that indicated he'd gotten one of those pieces of food going where it didn't belong.

Fortunately for Pete, he had just enough air in his lungs to cough out the wandering piece of potato and that left Myka off the hook. She could do the Heimlich Maneuver if necessary but it would have required her to drag him off the bed first.

As they both caught their breaths, him from oxygen deprivation and her from lingering tendrils of fear, he finally said, "Maybe some shut eye will get events moving in a positive direction again. I'm thinking we can try again tonight."

"Good idea," she answered, nearly as wide-eyed as he'd been. She slowly withdrew from the room once she checked him over with her eyes yet again.