Chapter 1:
I walk down the street, using one of several routes that I take everyday to get from my humble hole in the ground to my office a few blocks away from the busy bustle of downtown. While I own an aging car, it pays for me not to put too much stress on it; the repair rates of my mechanic are expensive and I am already behind on rent for my office. Anyway, while changing my route every day may seem a bit paranoid at first, remember that just because you're paranoid doesn't mean there isn't an invisible demon about to bite your face off.
Speaking of demons, there's my personal one fast approaching. There she is, the reason I'm behind on my rent. She's ZPD's newest member: a 20 pound ball of fluff and energy, bound and determined to make the world a better place. One fucking parking ticket at a time. How do I know this? She ticketed me last week for being 30 seconds late pulling out of a parking space as the meter dinged. It dinged as I was waiting for traffic to clear for me to get my aging car out of the space, and she slapped with me a fine. I was in the fluffing car! But did she understand or cut me a break? Nope, but oh was she quick to reach for her Fox Away pepper spray.
She's young, and the aurora she gives off is one of innocence and inquisitiveness. It's part of the reason interactions with her grate so much. Her naivety is one of the big reasons I'm pretty sure that she will end up being eaten by a vampire or something worse. I just pray to Karma I'm not around when it happens. Then again, there is a strong possibility that I will be.
"Hey fox!" I hear her shout at me in what was likely her most authoritative voice. I'll be honest here, I'm not sure she could do intimidating if she tried. Maybe that's why her boss has had her on meter maid duty for the last several months?
"What do you want, Carrots?" I ask her, not even bothering to stop. It's not like walking down the street is a crime or anything and besides, I have important places to go, like work.
"Don't call me Carrots," she said, her voice going to what I can only assume is her most threatening tone. My ears perk up a bit at the sound of her rushing to catch up with me.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I only assumed you came from some carrot choked podunk." I narrow my eyes as we pass by the three wheel jokemobile that the ZPD had supplied her with and draw subtly on the magic that flows around us. The subtle change in the flashing lights and the ominous groan that the parking brake makes as we walk past causes me to chuckle.
Oh, magic? I guess the best way to explain it is it's like the force. It flows from every living thing, like an energy field that blankets the planet. But there is no light side nor dark side to it. It just is. Learning to tap into it is dangerous; many budding wizards, sorcerers, warlocks, and witches tend to kill themselves once they do figure it out. Mix unlimited power together with limited discipline and pop goes the weasel. Most of the time it's not that dramatic, but there have been a few instances…
"No, Podunk is in Deerbrook county and I'm from Bunnyburrow," she explains to me condescendingly. This only causes me to roll my eyes and sigh.
"Right, right, can you get to your point Officer Fluff?" I ask as we cross the next street and a horn starts honking behind us.
"Look, I know you're up to something…." she starts. I just roll my eyes, push my paws deeper into my pockets, and keep going about my own business.
"The only thing I'm guilty of is walking to my office," I say to her. "As far as I know, that's not a crime."
I catch a glimpse of the parking brake failing on the jokemobile and it starts to roll down the hill. I'm sure the smile on my face doesn't help with my innocent act, but at least she's about to be out of my fur for a bit.
"Look here, fox!" she exclaims at me, pointing her finger up at me. I will admit, between the bright orange reflective safety vest, bowler hat, and the hard set of her eyes, she almost appears cute. Almost.
"I'm going to have to stop you right there, Carrots. You have a bigger problem this morning than a shifty fox walking down the street," I say, smiling.
"Like what?" she asks me. "I'll have you know that threatening an officer…." She stops mid sentence as I point to her clown car rolling down the hill past us. I'm pretty sure she doesn't see the look of satisfaction on my face as her eyes go wide watching it bouncing off a parked car to continue its way down hill. "Sweet cheese and crackers!" she exclaims as she takes off after it.
I just shake my head; even her cursing turns out to be cute. I'll admit I somewhat enjoy watching her chase after it for a moment before I continue my way to my office. But if I had only known that overzealous rabbit officers would be the least of my concern that day, I might have taken a moment to stop and appreciate the view a moment longer.
Maybe half an hour later I was standing outside my office door. It read:
Nick Wilde – Wizard
Lost Items Found – Paranormal Investigations – Consulting – Advice – Reasonable Rates
No Love Potions – No Bags of Holding – No Parties or Other Entertainment
Office Hours Monday – Friday 9am to 5pm Closed 12 to 1 for lunch
My ad in the yellow pages pretty much says the same thing, but also includes the office phone number. Unlocking the door and stepping inside was a lot like stepping into the office of an old-fashioned private eye's office. The outer office has a desk for an assistant but I had to let them go, considering I'm now on year four of lean times. There's seating for most medium sized mammals, as the building just isn't set up to handle mega fauna, which is fine; that's what the Snarlbucks down on the corner is for. There are pamphlets here and there about the dangers of feeding fairies and how garlic only gives vampires bad breath.
You'd be surprised how much mammals believe pop culture when it comes to the occult or things that go bump in the night. In a lot of ways, it has made my job about 400 times harder than it really needs to be. But I digress.
Somehow I doubt you'd be surprised to learn that most of my day is spent waiting. I spend most of that time reading old science fiction and fantasy novels. I get them by the box full from the old used bookstore down the street. The few times my phone ever rings, it's mammals asking if my ad is serious. Other times it's telemarketers thinking I would be an easy score. But every so often, maybe one out of every 200 calls or so, there is something, and out of those maybe one in 20 is something that will end up giving me a paycheck.
With the turn of the century, most mammals almost religiously believe in science, and who could blame them? Smartphone, smart TVs , the internet of things, the twice be damned weather walls; hell you almost can't spit these days without hitting some smart device in some poor kit's paws. But for all our technological breakthroughs, we still have poverty and hunger. War, death, and famine run rampant and the gap between the haves and the have nots widen with every passing day, and for most mammals? Ignorance is fucking bliss, and I envy them.
If they'd seen the things I've seen, knew the things that I know, done the things that I've had to do… Maybe it's a good thing that most mammals can't see beyond the thin veil of civilization, that they were unaware of the very real and continuing presence of the things that went bump in the night.. They just got smarter, or maybe we got dumber; again I digress.
For the most part my day passes quietly, with my mind occupied by the words on the page and my imagination in galaxies far far away. That is until this day, when my door crashes into my office wall.
My book falls to my desk like a stricken bird fluttering to the ground. All of the light bulbs in my office wink out at once as I draw on my innate ability, using my very will to pull forth the power to blast whatever just disturbed my quiet afternoon.
Just as quickly the door slammed back shut. A clearly terrified otter stood there, her back braced against the office door as if all the hounds of hell had been chasing her. Her chest rose and fell with her panicked breath. But other than clearly being scared near to death of something, she clearly wasn't a threat.
My guard didn't drop as I eyed the door; I half expected some tentacled monster hell bent on eating the otter to come crashing through it after her.
"Nick Wilde?" I hear her ask.
"Yes, that's me," I confirm, not turning my gaze from the door.
"I...I need your help."
Call me what you will, either old fashioned or a chauvinist fox. I am what I am, but when a lady slams into your door and asks for your help you pay attention.
"I'm being hunted."
Hunted; that word alone has special meaning. Not stalked, not perved on, but hunted. We civilized mammals don't hunt any more. We don't hunt other mammals for food, we don't hunt other mammals for sport; it's not what we do. We haven't done this since well before any of us on this planet were born. Some, ok a lot if I'm being honest, still hold deep rooted grudges for what our ancestors did, and in some cases rightfully so, but all in all we don't hunt each other any more.
I let the power flow back out into the world; it wouldn't have done me much good without my blasting rod anyway. Oh trust me, my control of fire is such I could have torched the little female otter to a tender crisp, but doing so would have also set the wall alight, and more than likely the office across the hall from mine. But that's not a skill I like to advertise; it doesn't pay the bills, at least not in a way that would allow me to sleep at night. Or keep me off of the White Council's radar.
"Miss," I say as calmly as I possibly can. "Why don't you have a seat? Whatever's after you isn't going to come crashing through my door right this moment, I'm sure."
Her gaze slowly went from me to the door. I watch as she pushes her wire rim glasses up her muzzle and nods, giving me a weak smile. "Sorry, I've just been on edge," she starts.
"It's fine, Miss…?" I leave the question hanging in the air for her to fill.
"Otterton," she says nervously. I won't lie, my curiosity as well as my sudden hope for a paycheck, which was more meaningful, was peaked. The Ottertons ran a line of flower shops all across the city. There were several dozen in each of the city's main districts; they had corporate offices in one of the tallest buildings in the city, and here was one of the family in my office.
"Miss Otterton, please have a seat," I said, directing her to the chair across from my desk. "Can I interest you in a cup of coffee, or perhaps a bottle of water?"
I'll be honest when I say she wasn't quite what I expected of someone who's family ran a multi million dollar corporation. Her clothes spoke more of picking up her kids from school and taking them to soccer practice than the extravagant life one would assume she would be used to living. She wore a light purple sweater jacket over a pink shirt and blue jeans. Comfortable, worn, everyday wear; honestly you would pass her over before you began to think she had any real capital.
"Water please?" she asks as she sits down in the chair across from my desk. The chair was a little big for her, but still comfortable nonetheless. I nod as I walk across the office and pick up a bottle of water and bring it back to her. It's a little on the warm side. I once had one of those mini fridge things, but it only lasted a week before the magic blue smoke that made it work puffed out as I read the through an old Jim Butcher novel.
I gently place the bottle of water into her paws and sit down at my desk. "Tell me about your stalker, Mrs. Otterton."
"Hunter, Mr. Wilde," Mrs. Otterton says crisply. "I have been around long enough to know the difference between the two."
"Ok Mrs. Otterton, why come to me if your being hunted? Surely the police…" I start.
"The police don't care, Mr. Wilde. My husband has been missing for over three weeks and they won't even assign a rabbit cop to look into it. Instead all I get are platitudes about 'we're looking into it' and 'these things take time,'" Mrs. Otterton says. I raise an eyebrow. Surely the Chief of Police would spare the bunny cop from meter maid duty to look into a missing otter?
I look her over, once again refusing to fully met her eyes. Meeting the eyes of a wizard is not what one would call conducive to one's mental health. Mammals say the eyes are the gateways to one's soul. There is more truth in that than most mammals realize these days; when you meet the eyes of one with a gift in the arcane arts, you literally gaze onto their soul. You see it all, good and bad; you see the things that made the mammal you share the gaze with and it sticks with you forever. You'll never forget it, you'll always remember perfectly whatever it was you saw. The last mammal that locked eyes with me fled the continent. What she saw in my soul I have no clue, but the last time I'd heard anything about her she'd joined a convent in Eweupe.
"Mrs Otterton, why don't you start from the beginning?" I ask her.
She sighs; the weary look in her eyes and the slouch of her shoulders speaks of a deep seated worry and fear. She looks at the book on my desktop before glancing out the window of my seventh floor office. It has a wonderful view of the building across the street.
"It started just over a month ago I guess," she starts as she looks back toward me. "Emmitt and I typically handle special orders for some of our oldest or most important customers personally. We had been contacted to do the flower arrangements for Fru Fru Big's wedding."
Red flags immediately go up in my head. Fru Fru Big is the only surviving child of Gentleman Antony Big, the city's most notoriously ruthless crime boss. If the Ottertons are involved with him I'm not so certain that I want to be involved at all.
"The wedding went off without a hitch. Fru Fru married her husband, a lawyer from Little Rodentia. But there was a…presence at the wedding," she explains.
"Presence?" I ask.
"Yes, a presence." she sighs and looks up at me. "Honestly Mr. Wilde, you'll probably think I'm crazy." I raise an eyebrow at that. "Right," she continues on. "You're a wizard; I imagine crazy is your bread and butter."
"Something like that; please go on." She looks thoughtful for many moments. I decide that patience is necessary as she searches for a way to explain to me something that she can't explain to herself .
"We felt something looking at us…" She pauses and looks back out the window to the building across the street. "Well, I imagine it's the way Emmitt and I look at a nice salmon steak."
"When did the wedding take place?" I ask her.
"Ummm, I believe on the evening of the 24th. I could look it up," she says to me as she reaches into her purse to pull what I figure to be some electronic device out of it.
"No no, that's ok," I say, not wanting to be responsible for blowing up one of those infernal things. Much to my surprise, she pulls out an old fashioned day planner. She probably hears my sigh of relief, as the last thing I want to be responsible for is exploding a smartphone like a paw grenade in the paw of my potential client. The potential client, I might add, that has close ties to the mob. That just wouldn't be good for business or my health.
I watch in fascination as she flips through the pages of her day planner, her gold rimmed glasses catching the sunlight as it comes through the window. "Yes, it was the 24th," she confirms. "A week later Emmitt went missing. The first day I thought maybe he had just gotten caught up in his work and thought nothing of it, as it's happened in the past. The next day I went to his workshop to, well, find he wasn't there."
"Was there anything out of place?" I ask, my curiosity overruling the gut feeling to escort the otter out of my office. I mean, I needed the money, but if Mr. Big was involved, I'm more certain than ever that I don't want to be.
"No, the police…" She sighs and looks up at me; her sea green eyes speak more of her pain than anything else. "The police told me that he more than likely ran off with his secretary. But Mr. Wilde that's just not true; our oldest daughter Hanna has been Emmitt's assistant for years and she's at work. Not that he'd ever do something like that anyway."
"Is there a place that Emmitt would go if he was stressed or just needed a break?" I ask her.
"We own a home in the Canal District and we have a good working relationship with one of the farms out in the Burrows," she tells me as I make notes.
"I will need the address for the home, and which farm?" I ask as I jot down more notes. I honestly can't believe I'm going to take this case. But she could afford it, and at least I'll be able to make rent and maybe eat something other than ramen for a bit.
"The Hopps Family Farm." I look up, surprised; it couldn't be the same Hopps, could it? No, no it can't be. Damn it Karma! If Mrs. Otterton sees my surprise she doesn't respond to it. "They normally grow fruits and vegetables, but they also grow a lot of our stock of easily mass grown flowers."
"Alright then, I'll also need a phone number for them."
"Does this mean you'll take the case?" she asks me,. hope shining clearly in her voice.
"Depends Mrs. Otterton," I say as frankly as I can.
"On what?"
"My pay." Suddenly I feel less like a wizard and more like a mercenary. But I haven't been around long enough to accumulate a vast sum of money like many of the older wizards, and I still have needs.
"I see, Mr. Wilde; thankfully I do have the means to pay you."
I stare at her for more than a few moments. "One thousand retainer, $75 an hour, plus travel expenses; and to be clear, are you hiring me to deal with your hunter or find your husband?"
She stares at me. Not in the eyes but almost through me, as if she's weighing my worth. "Why not both?" she asks after a moment, seeming satisfied with whatever conclusions she'd drawn. "If you are truly what you say you are and not some snake oil sales mammal preying on the gullible, then it should be no issue to you."
"Fine, both then," I answer, suddenly not feeling so badly about padding my retainer and hourly rate a bit. I watch as she reaches into her purse and pulls out a rather fat envelope and tosses it onto my desk in front of me.
"Fifteen hundred," she says flatly, her eyes hardening for just a moment. "And I expect results Mr. Wilde." I stare at her as her eyes soften. "Please find my husband; find Emmitt." I watch as she slides out of her chair, and taking my notepad and pen to write down an address in the Canal District and another one in Bunnyburrow.
"I will, Mrs. Otterton." I look down at the address as my heart drops. Hopps Family Farm, Bunnyburrow. Podunk is in Deerbrook county and I'm from Bunnyburrow, I hear Officer Hop-a-long's voice saying in my head.
"I believe, Mr. Wilde, that is everything you require," she tells me flatly.
I take the envelope with the cash and tuck it away into my desk drawer, making sure to lock it before I stand up. "I take it you have a car here?" I ask.
"Why yes Mr. Wilde, I have a car and driver waiting for me downstairs."
"Then please allow me to escort you to your car." I walk with her to the elevator, which, miracle beyond miracle, doesn't malfunction on the trip down. We approach a newer sedan with a jaguar leaning against its side with his arms crossed. He opens the door for her as we near. Thankfully the car is off, so it's not in danger of falling victim to my magic. The last thing I want to do is break my new employer's fancy automobile.
"One last thing Mrs. Otterton," I say as she slides into the rear passenger seat. "You wouldn't have something of your husband's? Something personal of his, maybe some fur from a brush or anything?"
She once again studies me, and I will freely admit I find it mildly unnerving. "Yes, at home, The Grand Pawvilian Tower; you know of it?"
"I do."
"Have the front desk ring me and I will ensure you get what you require. Now, if that is all,good day Mr. Wilde."
"Good day," I say to her and step away from the car to what I hope is a safe distance. It must be, as I watch the jaguar climb into the driver's seat and drive away.
"Ahem." I hear an all too familiar voice clearing her throat at me and I slowly turn my head to the right, looking down. There she is, my own personal demon made flesh and fur. Her arms are crossed as her right foot thumps repeatedly on the sidewalk. "So you took her money then?" she asks me accusingly.
"Did I?" I ask rhetorically.. "Why yes, yes I did," I answer as I start to turn and head back into the building. I can pay up my rent for what I owe this month and maybe even next month; that will put that old cougar off my tail for a little while at least, I think to myself, dismissing the rabbit from further thought.
"Why?" she asks.
"Carrots, it's bad for business if I go around telling mammals what other mammals hire me for," I say as we walk through the front door of the office building.
"You shouldn't have; she's a family friend and needs help, not someone to take advantage of her," she says as she follows me up the stairs. I'd taken one roll of the dice today getting in that elevator; I really don't want to take a second one. Besides, the emotional turmoil of being called a crook at worst or a fraud at best pretty much ensured that the elevator would malfunction.
"And what?" I ask tersely. "Lose my business? Not eat? Get thrown out of my apartment and live in a box under a bridge?"
"Well, no, but…" I can see her in my mind's eye even though she's three steps behind me. I can feel that her ears are down her back and she's rubbing her paws together. Honestly, this has been the longest and most cordial conversation between the pair of us.
"But what?" I stop at the landing to the floor of my office and push open the door. She walks through it and looks up at me.
"It's just that the Ottertons have been my family's closest friends and business partners for years." She sighs. "I don't want them to be taken advantage of with no results."
I eye her before continuing onto my office. "Good for you and good for them. But helping her for free doesn't put food on my table or pay the rent that I'm late on because you wouldn't cut me some slack when pulling out of that parking spot."
I walk into my office, leaving the door open, and am somewhat surprised when she follows me inside and quietly pushes the door shut behind her. I sit down at my desk and look her over. Her uniform isn't what I'd call standard issue for the ZPD. Unless tactical meter maid has become the new norm. The most telling to me has to be the lack of any real side arm, which tells me they either don't have one for her or don't trust her with one.
She looks around the dimly lit office as she walks over to my desk. "I'm sorry," she says softly as she looks up at me then glances away. "It was my first day and Chief Bogo assigned me parking detail; I thought if I got 200 tickets issued before noon he'd take me seriously."
"Did he?" I ask, though I can pretty much guess the answer.
She huffed. "No."
"So why are you here Carrots?"
She looks up at me, her nose twitching a few times. "Can you help her?"
"I don't know. All I can do is try," I answered as honestly as I could.
"I want to help. The Ottertons are friends; Emmitt is my godfather. I need to help," she said.
I study her for a moment, maybe a moment longer than was necessary. Karma kept throwing this rabbit in my path. Why? I don't know; she radiates strength, but not the kind that can wield magic. More of a strength of character, principal maybe.
"Helping me isn't going to garner you any good will with Chief Buffalo Butt," I say, trying to give her a way out.
"I don't care; Emmitt is practically family. I'll take time off if I need to."
I nod and sigh. I'm really going to have to have a talk with Karma next time we have a beer. "Fine. You might want to arrange for time off, but that's your concern. Meet me here tomorrow at 9 a.m.."
"Really?" she asks, as if I might change my mind.
"Yeah, really." I'm probably going to regret this, I think to myself. "You should get going," I tell her as I pull out the envelope full of cash from my desk drawer and start separating it into piles.
"What are you going to do?" I hear her ask from the door.
"The glamorous task of getting my bills caught up."
I walk into Finnick's a few hours later. My pay from Mrs. Otterton is already lighter than I would like, and my mind heavier than it needs to be. But I'm looking forward to a hot meal, something that didn't come out of a plastic packaging or a tin can for once. There's only so long a mammal can live off of prepackaged food before they start to go crazy.
Finnick's is one of those rare places in the city where I can go and sit down to a nice hot meal. Where the TV's don't explode, because there are none. Where the wait staff don't get snotty with you, because there are none. Where the beer is good, the food is good, and for the most part I'm left the hell alone. Mostly because the place is the only truly neutral ground in the city for the supernatural. The place is warded to hell and back. You try to kill in there, it's reflected tenfold. Magic, gun, fist fight, whatever, it doesn't matter to Finnick's wards; they are some of the strongest in the city, if not the world. Finnick himself is old; he's run the joint since before I was born and probably will keep on running it long after I pass. How old the fennec fox truly is no one knows. He serves all kinds: predators and prey, mortal and fey; he doesn't really care as long as your money is green.
While Finnick serves all kinds, nothing here is more welcome to me than one of his nice hot steak sandwiches. What? The meat is lab grown, has been for over two decades! At first it was expensive as all hell and was one of those things that you only got at one of those suit and tie establishments. The price of a meal there was easily about the same as my rent, but the more mammals invested into it the more affordable it became. It has been a huge quality of life improvement for predators around the world; hell, even most prey don't bat an eye at it these days. But see, most of those places cook it wrong or don't prepare it right. Finnick though? I suspect he's been around long enough to remember when we weren't so nice to each other.
The establishment is laid out fairly simply: a long bar along the far wall with 13 stools, 13 columns breaking up the open space, and 13 tables interspersed around the room. The columns are all carved with intricate designs that, while memorable, you tend to forget the design of as soon as you leave the place. Behind the bar is an old fashioned wood fired grill that Finnick makes all the food on.
"Wilde," Finnick greets me gruffly as I walk up to the bar and sit on one of the stools.
"Finnick. I'll have a steak sandwich and two house brews please." Finnick's house brews are almost as legendary as his steak sandwiches. He brews the ale himself and any attempts to replicate it fail miserably.
Finnick reaches under the bar and grabs a brown bottle of ale and pops the top of it off with his thumb before sitting it in front of me. I take a sip of it and close my eyes. I can't even begin to describe the layers of flavors in that ale; it's an old world recipe, that much I know. Soon my senses are overcome with the delightful aroma of grilling meat, which instantly makes my mouth water.
I open my eyes and take another sip of the ale as I watch the fennec fox work. I have many questions left from my day and few answers. Most of my questions revolve around the bunny cop and why she keeps being thrust into my life. The signs are all there plain as day; Karma has been putting her in my path for a reason.
Speaking of which, she is heralded by the sweet smell of cherries, always cherries. I hope I can get the answers that I seek. She had been popping in and out of life since I was 12 years old; she'd first appeared to me after the death of my father. Oddly enough, at that time she gave me comfort until my maternal grandfather showed up to take custody of me and ever since she periodically checks up on me.
"Nicholas," she greets me, and I turn my head to look at her. To say she's a vixen is to do her an injustice. She is that which every female of my species hopes to one day be. Her eyes are the same fiery color of the midday sun and her fur is whiter than the freshly fallen snows of Tundra Town. It doesn't matter what she wears; she could make a burlap sack look like it was from some top name Furench designer.
"Karma," I greet her simply.
"I see you finally took my hint, Nicholas." Her voice sounds like honey poured over a perfectly played violin.
"The bunny?" I ask just before taking a sip of my brew.
"Judith Laverne," she says kindly, much in the same way as she says my name. "Take care that nothing befalls her, Nicholas."
I raise an eyebrow at that as Finnick plops a plate down in front me with my second bottle of ale. "Does Serendipity know you're watching over one of her children?"
She smiles at me and picks up the second bottle of brew, taking a sip from it. "She does, and she approves," Karma says cryptically. "The scales need to be balanced Nicholas; you understand this better than most."
I nod as I search her face, but she just gives me a sly smile. I know better than to lock gazes with a deity, so I avoid looking into her eyes. "If it is within my power to do so, I shall keep her from harm," I say after a moment and, unsurprisingly, I meant it. One just does not lie to a deity.
"Good boy," she says to me. I can't help that my tail wags just a bit at being told I'm good by her. She stands and makes ready to leave, placing a gentle paw on my shoulder. To say I can feel the power that flowed through her would be an understatement; in that one moment she makes me feel as if I was a grain of sand standing before a mammoth tsunami. It's humbling and frightening at the same time. My tail instantly stops wagging as my ears lay down. I would give her my throat if it would make that terrible weight go away. "Be nicer to the bunny Nicholas," she tells me, and I swallow hard. "You have few friends; a new friend would be nice, no?" Then the weight is gone and she leaves just as she came, with the lingering scent of cherries.
Finnick pops another brew in front of me. "Free," he says, motioning to the new bottle and gathering up the empties.
I nod my thanks and take a bite out of my still warm sandwich. The meat tasted divine as I weighed what Karma had told or, as in most cases when she visits me, didn't tell me. It takes time for the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach to go away. It's slow at first, but the sudden conclusion that I come to is fairly simple. Something horrible is going to befall Carrots and I'm going to have to stand in front of it.
I slap down a couple of bills, more than enough to pay for my sandwich and brews, plus a generous tip and head out of the door. I shove my paws into my pockets and keep my head down as I walk the streets toward my humble abode.
Having Karma in your life is like having a parent that only shows up for birthdays and holidays. But instead of presents or money she only brings questions, and if I'm being totally honest they almost always lead to trouble. But this is the first time I have ever heard of one deity watching over a member of another's flock.
These thoughts occupy my mind as I descend the stairs to my home. I'm the only one in the building with their own private entrance. Granted, my entrance is in the alleyway. But still, it's private, and with the wards I have placed on it I doubt that my own landlord would be able to find the place. Not that I pay rent on it, as it was one of the few things left to me by my father.
My home is cold, even though it's on the border of Savannah Central and the Downtown District. Even in the dead of summer it's cold. It's a side effect of being my home and lab.
My home is mostly just an open room and is the only place in the building with a functional wood burning fireplace. In front of the fireplace is a couch and comfortable chair, both of which I got form a second paw store down the street some years ago. They could both stand to be reupholstered, but for now they are covered in thick blankets. The elephant sized dresser takes up the back wall; it's only three drawers tall so calling it a dresser might be a bit of a stretch, but the bottom drawer holds a fox sized queen mattress and a pile of blankets that serves as my bed. The floor would be just bare concrete if it wasn't for the fact that I've covered it in area rugs to ward off some of the chill. There is a small food preparation area that holds a sink, a few pots, and cast iron pans that I use to cook with over the fire of the fireplace, and a walled off corner that holds a three piece bathroom. I guess in some ways stepping into my home is like stepping into the past.
When I step into my home it must be what stepping into the Fortress of Solitude feels like for Supermammal. I feel both safe and free.
I look at the at the fireplace and snap my fingers; with a bare outpouring of energy the fireplace and candles around the room light up. The room is awash in the sudden warm firelight and the soothing snapping sound of burning wood fills the silence. Fire was one of the first things I mastered during my apprenticeship.
I reach over to the coat rack beside the door, picking up my heavy grey woolen robe and slipping it on, and then slip my feet into a pair of pink fuzzy slippers. Thankfully I never have guests so there is no one to judge me for my slippers. BBesides, if they spent any time in here they'd want all the warmth they could get too. Perhaps Karma was right; having a friend wouldn't be such a bad thing.
I walk over to the far back corner of my apartment and pull back the layer of rugs to reveal a trap door that leads down into the sub basement that is my lab. I pull up the trap door before descending down into the darkness and reach out to light the candles in the lab. My lab has the same floor space as the room above, which gives me plenty of room for experiments and material storage. The back wall of the room is dominated by a long table with a bench seat. The table has beakers and glass tubes going this way and that and small propane fueled Bunsen burners. Above the table on a shelf surrounded my tawdry romance novels and deities only knows what else sat a cheetah skull. The skull had belonged to my father, and the letter that he'd left for me along with the apartment told me that it had belonged to my mother. What purpose it served he had no idea, but my mother had told him it was my birthright, so he dutifully passed it down to me.
The skull itself is actually quite remarkable, and one of the reasons why I didn't blow myself to smithereens upon first tapping into my magic. I suppose the best way to describe the skull is to say it's a vessel for a spirit of knowledge. Kind of like Siri, if Siri had a taste for romances and shipping.
"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," a voice comes from the skull as soon as my slippered paws touch the cold concrete of my lab.
"The only cat here is you, Ben." I turn toward the skull. "And you hardly dragged me anywhere."
"Figure of speech, Nick," Ben says before starting to make a sniffing sound. "Mammal you should shower; you positively reek of her. What did she do, bone you in an alley?"
I point my muzzle down at my chest and take a sniff. I don't think I reek of anything. "Ben, you know almost better than I do that my love life is nonexistent."
"Well then, you must have had one hell of a run in with Karma. What did you do this time?" I roll my eyes as I sit down at the table.
"Nothing. I had dinner, she stole one of my beers, and she touched me." I glare up at the skull. "On the shoulder, get your head out of the gutter."
"In case you haven't noticed, my head is on a shelf in a dingy basement; a gutter might be a step up."
I sigh and look up at the skull. "She did say I needed to be nicer to the bunny."
"Wait," Bens ether blue eyes look at me. "You mean the bunny cop, right? The same one that gave you that ticket? The same one that's been following you around for months?"
"One and the same" I say flatly.
I watch as the cold blue eyes blink at me. "Serendipity and Karma working together?" Ben asks quietly.
"I don't know about working together, but Serendipity knows of Karma's interest in Judy."
"So she's 'Judy' now and not 'that blasted demon bunny cop'?"
I glare up at the skull. "So maybe I told her she could help me with a case, which is the real reason I came down here."
The sound that comes from the skull is ear piercing and jarring. "You, Mr. Loner Fox, too cool to let anything get to you, letting someone you've hated at for six months work on a case with you?" I swear the skull rattles the shelving a little bit.
I sigh. "Yes ok, I'm letting her work with me on a case."
"My advice is to be nicer to her then," Ben said. "Doesn't do well to anger gods."
I glare at Ben's skull as he prattles on. "Also, you should totally take her to dinner; that place you go to serves prey as well, right? A little wining and dining of the bunny couldn't hurt your chances any."
"Ben," I say as he keeps going.
"Bunnies also like flowers, so maybe get her flowers as well, but you need to be careful as bunnies practically have a language based around flowers." Ben keeps going. "This would be so much easier if you could use a smartphone."
"BEN!" I finally yell, getting the chatty skull to shut up. "I don't need the advice of a 3000 year old spirit concerning my love life. What I do need help with is figuring out what would make an otter who lives in the penthouse of one of the tallest buildings in the city nervous?"
"You would do well to take my advice regarding the bunny Nick; you're alone way too much," Ben tells me as I groan. "Is anyone from the otter's household missing?"
"Her husband."
"What about the rest of the city? Any upswings in missing mammal cases lately?"
"I don't know," I answer truthfully.
"You need to find out. Depending on the circumstances of the disappearances and timing you could have a real problem on your paws." I swear I can almost see the skull grin at me. "I bet your new bunny cop partner would know."
"What kind of problem?" I ask, choosing to ignore the last part.
"Vampires," Ben says, and then goes quiet for a moment. "Honestly, it was only a matter of time. I mean, look at the size of this city; they could blend in rather well here."
A low threatening growl escapes my throat. "Well, at least they burn." I sneer.
"Quite handily too, but…." Ben trails off for a moment.
"But?" I ask.
"Well….." I swear if a skull could look sheepish this one just did. "There's been a small hive of vampires in the city for sometime, and if there's a sudden increase in disappearances, they could either be doing a, ummmm recruitment drive, or…."
"I'm just now finding out about vampires being in my backyard."
"You never asked before."
"I shouldn't have to ask!" I all but scream at Ben's skull.
"Look, calm down…" Ben says to me in the most gentle tone he's capable of. "It may not even be the vampires at all."
"Ok, so what else could it be?"
"Well, it could be a blood mage."
I glare up at the skull. "How is that any better?"
"Well it's not, but at least it's not a chupacabra."
I blink. "Chupacabra? Aren't those only myth?"
"Says the mammal who practically has Karma as his fairy godmother."
I sigh, "Ok, so say it's a chupacabra; what do I need to know about them?"
"Well, they travel in pairs, a male and a female. They typically don't stay in one place long and have a rather nomadic existence."
"Sounds benign so far," I say.
"Actually, they're pretty nasty creatures. They tend to steal the skins of their victims so they can walk around during the day. Unlike other vampires, these are born not made and almost borderline on being mammal. They leave behind bloodless skinned corpses, and it takes quite a bit to kill them," Ben informs me, sounding much like a teacher reading from a textbook.
"You said they're fairly nomadic…" I prompt.
"Yes, unless the female is about to give birth," Ben says. "Typically then expect the death count to go up drastically."
"Like how drastically?"
"Eight to ten deaths a day for two months. Luckily they can be tracked with a fairly easy spell or by scent, since they smell a lot like a bloody moldy onion."
I groan.
"Oh, but the likelihood of the problem being a chupacabra is pretty small; only one or two of the pups survive until adulthood. But still, you should ask bunny cop about missing mammals."
"You said they were almost considered mammal?" I ask.
"Well the hearth ward still works on them, but as you know that only really works if the mammal truly thinks of the place as their home, and its effectiveness is lessened if they're renting."
I sigh as I stand up and stretch my back, and then sigh as it pops. "I think it's better if I hit the sack early tonight, Ben."
"Good night," I swear that skull grinned at me. "Have sweet dreams of your bunny."
I huff at that as I climb the ladder back up to my apartment. First Karma and now Ben; I shake my head as I glance back down into the lab, willing the candles to wink out. Then again, Ben has been trying to set me up with anything with a fur coat and a pulse for years. I shudder at the thought of the last time I let him "out".
Ben had even "shipped" Karma and me for a little while, saying I should ask her out. I think he just wanted to see if she would turn me into a pretzel or not. I kick the trap door closed and roll the carpet back over it. I reach out and one by one the candles in the apartment snuff themselves out, leaving only the fire in the fireplace to light the room. The fire has had enough time to start to ward the chill of the room away as I make my way across it to the dresser and pull out the bottom drawer.
I take one more glance at the fire to make sure that it's well stocked with wood before shedding the robe and slippers and getting ready for bed. I crawl up over the edge of the drawer and burrow my way under the blankets. Curling up in the center of the bed I hear Karma tell me once again. "Be nicer to the bunny." I shudder at the memory of her titanic power measured against mine and for a split second it almost feels as if she's in the room with me. She very well could be, but I know better than to go looking.
I wish I could say I slept well. But I didn't; at least I awoke well rested. My sleep is plagued by the same nightmares that I've had since I first tapped into my magic at 13 years old. It's a bittersweet memory, and one that I fear will haunt me for the rest of my days.
I find myself curled around a small pillow that I don't even remember grabbing. It's warm from my own body heat, and I lay clinging to it and the last vestiges of sleep. I make my way up onto all fours, knowing my habits from time on my grandfather's farm wouldn't allow me to go back to sleep. That old fox had much to teach me, about life and about magic. I've since found out he has stuck his neck out for me in more ways than one. I should make a point to go visit him soon, since we'd probably cause half the phone system to go down between the two of us .
The main lesson I will always be thankful for is his work ethic. He would tell me, "Nicky, never put off to tomorrow what needs to be done today, no matter how dirty the job is ." And then he would hand me a shovel and have me help him move fertilizer. I smile at the memory as I shake the blankets off of me.
I climb back over the edge of the bed and look down at my sleep wrinkled clothes. I start shedding them, making sure to take the little bit I still have from Mrs. Otterton's pay and place it on the bed before tossing my clothes into the clothes hamper.
I step into the bathroom and into the shower. Out of reflex I turn on the hot water, but it comes out ice cold. One of the things I miss about my grandfather's farm is his wood fired water heater; granted, I had to make sure the fire of was lit before dawn every day and keep the fire under it going. But I was grateful for the hot shower at the end of every day. I endure my shower and towel myself off; it takes time, as my summer coat is still coming. The extreme cold of my home doesn't help with my body's sense of the seasons. As such, my coat is still a little thick for this time of year.
I dress pretty simply: dark short sleeved shirt with a collar, red tie, and a pair of khaki pants. The tie I leave pretty loose at my neck, with the collar button of the shirt undone. I stuff a bit of my left over cash into my pocket and stash the rest away as savings. I palm my keys as I open the door to leave. I look at my staff leaning on the wall beside the door and decide for the moment to leave it. While Ben may think I'm dealing with vampires, I have yet to see any evidence to that end. I just have a scared otter with a missing husband and a bunny partner that may or may not have some doom hanging over her head. I sigh as I lock my door. Seems like a normal Wednesday to me.
The air outside my home, in stark contrast to the inside, is warm. While the sun has come up a bit, it has yet to reach a point where the streets are not yet cast in shadow. I step out of the alley between the buildings, looking up and down the street. The little bit of traffic on the street is flowing nicely and there is next to no foot traffic.
I stuff my paws into my pockets and slump my shoulders just a bit, attempting to look like what I am. Just a fox trudging his way to work. I will say it's odd; for six months I have walked to work and almost always along the way I'm accosted in some shape or form by the bunny cop. I mean, I know I told her she could help, but I guess a part of me has gotten use to the call of "hey fox!" and mildly aggressive threats and warnings.
I dip into one of my favorite coffee shops for a pair of muffins, one blueberry one carrot, and twenty minutes later I'm walking up the steps to my office building. "Hey! Uhhh, Mr. Wilde? Wait," I hear the familiar voice call out to me. I turn to see the bunny in question run to catch up. I'll admit I'd thought that the only thing in her wardrobe was cop attire, so the country bunkin look kinda throws me off a bit.
"Good morning Officer Fluff," I greet her. I'll be honest, I am somewhat surprised she showed up at all. I mean, while I am a licensed private investigator, I am also listed under the yellow pages as Wizard, and I'm pretty sure the ZPD has me classified as a loon.
"Good morning…" she starts, but her eyes show a mild bit of panic. I can see she's trying not to offend me by calling me "fox".
"Nick," I supply as I turn and walk with her the rest of the way up the stairs and hold the door open for her. "Mr. Wilde was my father. I take it Chief Bogo let you have the day off?"
"He's letting me have a week off," she said. "I figured it would take longer than a day to find Mr. Otterton."
I smile. It's not finding Mr. Otterton that worries me; it's finding what is hunting Mrs. Otterton. I honestly could find Mr. Otterton in an afternoon with a fairly simple tracking spell using a bit of fur or something he's used everyday.
"Does he know what you're up to?" I ask as we walk up the stairs.
"Why do you take the stairs?" she asks as a poor deflection of the question. Her deflection is more telling than if she'd lied. It would've been fairly easy for her to lie too, as I have no easy way of verifying the truth.
I smile as we go through the doorway for the seventh floor where my office is. "Machinery and electronics don't fare well around me," I answer honestly. "If you have a smart phone I would recommend turning it off."
I unlock my office door and step inside. My right paw automatically moves to flick on the lights, but I remember that I have not yet replaced the bulbs from when Mrs. Otterton startled me yesterday.
"What, forgot to pay your electric bill?" she asks as I walk across the room and pull open the blinds. I can hear the smirk on her face.
I sit the bag of muffins down on my desk and walk across the room to the coffee maker and flip it on. Thankfully I did remember to set it up yesterday before I left for Finnick's. "No, the bulbs burned out yesterday," I answer as the coffee pot starts to bubble and snort. I have no clue why this thing still works, and I have chosen not to question it as long as it makes me the elixir of the gods that makes morning halfway bearable.
"Have there been any other disappearances or is Mr Otterton the only one?" I ask.
"You're joking right?" she asks me as my heart starts to drop. "You haven't seen the news?"
"I just got done telling you that electronics and machinery don't fare well around me, Carrots." I turn and look at her. Her nose twitches slightly as she studies me.
"Twenty-two," she answers me. "The latest was just this morning." She has to have seen how tense that answer makes me as I turn back to my coffee pot. For some reason the follow up question doesn't come, and now I think I might understand Karma telling me to protect the bunny.
"Coffee?" I ask as I pour myself a cup, suddenly wishing for something a bit stronger.
"That amount of caffeine isn't good for rabbits due to our higher heart rates," Judy says. "But I'll have tea or a bottle of water if you have it."
I smile, picking up a bottle of water and carrying it over to her before I sit down at my desk with my coffee. We study each other, me very subtly avoiding looking too long at her eyes. They're the color of amethyst ,and just beg for me to get lost in them.
"Tell me something Officer," I say, breaking the silence after a few moments. "Do you believe in magic?"
