Okay, so another quick shout-out before I begin, because this has become such a hot topic. First of all, my thanks to everyone who chimed in on Taelia's personality and her relationship with Nick, both supportive and critical. It really helped me see where you all are coming from as readers, and where I could maybe fine-tune my approach as a writer. Two things I would like to address before beginning this chapter. One is that I actually did, in previous chapters, have Nick and Taelia noticing appealing qualities in one another (ironically, in Taelia's case, specifically including that he was charming and handsome as well as funny to a less obvious extent). However, since I'm revising the past chapters anyway to take care of a few other details, I'll see what I can do to flesh those out. In particular I recommend chapter nine.
The other thing I will say (because if this were a Zootopia sequel I would have leaked this months before the movie released anyway) is that Taelia – and really, nearly all of the characters – will undergo considerable development as the story progresses, which in turn is going to impact how they interact. So what you all have seen thus far and will see in this chapter is not the final picture. That, really, is in many ways the very heart of the story. I'm not going to say publicly whether Nick and Taelia in particular will come closer together or get wedged apart, but I do plan to have Taelia loosen up a bit as the story unfolds, possibly for better or for worse. So thank you for your patience, and I'll do my best to keep it interesting.
On one final note before we get started, there's an announcement which I'll be posting at the end with the Easter Egg clues, so keep your eyes peeled. Happy reading!
"I looked at him, and saw myself."
Hiccup, How to Train Your Dragon
"Pretty good movie," Nick remarked as he drove Taelia home. It had been good too; lots of action, a decent plot, and excellent special effects. He wasn't usually one to watch a movie with dragons, but he could see the attraction on this one.
"Yeah, it really got you thinking, didn't it?" asked Taelia.
He glanced her way. The truth was he hadn't had any deep epiphanies from it, and his main take-away overall had been the snuggle factor. Still, he decided not to let that slip just at the moment. "Yeah, I guess it did."
For her own part, Taelia had found it an interesting mix of classic and new fairy tale elements. At its core, it resembled the classic knight-saves-damsel base, but had the twist of making the damsel as much a monster as the villain himself for the first half of the movie. That and the toned-down romance, plus making her a dragon as capable as her rescuer when push came to shove, had left the characters feeling a lot more balanced and sympathetic. Her guilt over the things she did while she was enchanted to be a killing machine rounded it out, making the fantastical tale seem surprisingly real – maybe even a little too much so.
'Probably a lot like those mammals who were darted in the news,' she mused. She didn't pay much attention to movie reviews, but she wondered how many critics had said the movie's debut was too soon and how many considered it potentially therapeutic. She was glad she'd never have to deal with knowing she'd done something terrible like that.
Nick, conversely, was not much of a one for philosophizing about movies, especially when something outside the car caught his eye. An old two-story sandstone hotel called The Winking Sand Rat off to their left bore the notable addition of a 'For Sale' sign. The sight came as something of a disappointment, for although he had never stayed there, he and Finnick used to kick back in the bar. Of course drinking led to a lot of carelessness no con-artist could afford, so he had quit drinking almost as soon as he started. Still, he and the fennec had had some good times in the barroom; good hustles, good pool, good memories… all goodbye, by the look of it.
'Although I guess I'll have to leave that behind anyway, now that I'm going straight,' he thought.
Before he could start wondering if that counted as having second thoughts about becoming a cop, however, he was pulled from his dismal reverie by Taelia's voice.
"Something wrong, Nick?"
He blinked and shook himself. "No, nothing. What were you saying?"
She shrugged. "I asked what you thought of the movie."
"Oh." Nick, quickly ad-libbing an effort to look philosophical, made a show of thinking. "I liked it. Had some good fight scenes, and the characters were okay. I wonder if they'll make a sequel."
Taelia couldn't help feeling a bit underwhelmed, but what was she expecting anyway? Most people, she knew, didn't get as caught up in details and fitting elements together as she did. Working with computers and music had made her something of a critic both for when things worked well and when they didn't, and she liked when different elements of something harmonized and set each other off like different instruments or voice types. She'd dealt with enough kinds of mammals, though, to know that a lot of them thought in a much less interconnected fashion.
'How does it go again?' she wondered, reflecting on something she had heard once on the radio. 'Male brains are like waffles; you have a bunch of boxes separated from each other. Female brains are like spaghetti; everything touches everything else every little which-way.'
If it came down to boxes, she hoped she hadn't pulled him away too much from the police box. She doubted she could be especially helpful to him, but she didn't want to be a hindrance either. "So how are things going with the ZPD?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Well, uh, not much I'm allowed to talk about," he answered, simultaneously raising an air of mystery and excusing a lack of talk about his life. "I guess it's okay to mention that we've got some suspects we're looking for, so the ZPD's got every eye they can manage on the job."
Taelia knew about the renegade sheep. It was hard not to since the mammal hunt had been all over the news lately. She made a mental note to keep her eyes peeled too. Sure it wasn't much, but one never knew, and at least it was one way to help. "And you?" she ventured.
"Well, I don't like to brag," was his ironic admission. "I'm keeping my eyes open, of course, and I've got a few friends out looking. Nobody you'd know; just mammals that get around a lot and see stuff going on."
Taelia raised an eyebrow. "What, like a spy network?"
He cracked a smile and answered in a passable British accent. "Well, my dear, if I told you that I'd have to kill you."
She laughed at that; more at the delivery than the joke itself. "Alright, Double-O Savage. Keep your secrets."
Nick grinned, then subsided into a thoughtful expression. "To be honest, there's not a ton I can do until I'm actually a cop, which is gonna take a while longer than we have for this case."
She could understand that well enough. "Slow going, I take it?"
"Like molasses." He waved a paw in an offhanded way. "Forms to fill out, hoops to jump through, references to tap, background checks… you know, stuff like that plus a few office politics."
"Politics?" she echoed.
Her brain managed a moment later to guess that it had to do with his species, but he responded before she could voice it.
"Yeah, you know, Mutton word," he explained. "Poli means many, and ticks are blood-sucking leeches."
She laughed. It was an old joke and a bad one, but he worked it just the same. "Well, at least you're taking it like a fox," she admitted.
He shrugged. "Well, it's not like I can take it like an elephant," he pointed out.
This time she hid her laugh with a snort and shook her head. "It's nice to hear you're doing all you can."
Am I really? he wondered, though what he said was, "Yeah, more or less." Taking advantage of a red light to stretch his arms a bit, he added, "But I don't want to spend all night boring you with stuff about my day job. How are things going with setting up for the concert?"
Truthfully, she didn't think hearing about his 'day job' as he so noncommittally put it would be boring at all. She knew it took a lot of slow steps to get anywhere in life. No one with a brain could go through college and work in the music industry without knowing that. The very fact that he was moving forward – especially towards an august goal like that – was worth attention. Plus, the talk of getting him onto the force brought back her thoughts of how he would look in a uniform; very easy on the mind's eye.
On the other paw, she didn't want to make him talk if he didn't feel like talking. "Pretty good," she replied, deciding to let the topic change this time. "Xavier's got the business end of things covered, and Vicky's planning out how we're going to set up our equipment on the stage, so I've mostly got the technical stuff to take care of."
He smirked. "Sounds exciting," he joked.
She frowned, but couldn't hold it for long. "It's a lot more involved than it sounds," she contested, "but yeah, it can get a little dull after a while. I'm glad we got the chance to rest our brains a bit."
He smiled, and to his surprise it was… well, real. Not just Nick-pretending-to-be-normal smiling, but the real Nicholas Wilde smiling after a movie date. He hadn't really thought about it, but with Catano he was always the strongly suspected ex-crook trying to burrow his way into legitimacy. Even with Judy, as good a friend as she was, it was consistently about law enforcement. It was nice to have someone around who was totally disconnected from his old life and only passingly connected with the new.
"You know, so am I," he admitted.
Taelia couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a smile like his. After the relapse at the drive-in, it was just about the most reassuring and satisfying thing she could imagine. His irises were like twin emeralds looking out of a deep orange setting, and his smile could have charmed the stripes off a tiger. She felt, all over again, the warm pressure of when they had leaned together during the movie. Once she fought off her relapse, the snuggling had been… oh, there had to be a word for it. 'Refreshing' wasn't quite right. 'Comforting' and 'satisfying' didn't do it justice. After a moment her mind settled on one simple word: right. It just felt so right.
That was when a car horn honked behind them, 'politely' informing them that the light had turned green.
"Okay, okay," Nick relented, shifting his foot to the gas pedal.
Taelia resisted the urge to huff. 'Go figure.'
The rest of the car ride seemed to be over all too quickly, and Taelia wanted nothing so much as to find some way around saying goodnight on her way out of the car. So she wasn't particularly sorry when Nick asked rather awkwardly if he might come upstairs, citing just how much of a slushy he'd had.
"No problem," she assured him, stepping out of the car.
Feeling it appropriate to make up for the request with a little charm, Nick extended his elbow as they went up to the apartment. Taelia took it, but kept her eyes and ears peeled for any of her neighbors. She doubted any of them would be up – or at least outside of their apartments – but she didn't want them to think Nick was spending the night.
'Although they'd probably just comment on what a reynard I'd found,' she reflected, casting a look at Nick. He smiled back at her, though there was a slight twitch in his ears and a haste in his steps, testifying to the call of Mother Nature.
Having seen him upstairs and directed him to the bathroom, she dropped onto the couch and sighed. The awkwardness quickly gave way to a sense of satisfaction at an evening spent unwinding. That was how Nick found her when he emerged, and he had to admit she looked nice.
"You look comfortable," he observed with a smile.
She smiled and nodded. There was something about seeing him standing there in the kitchen that just made her feel… well, content. It was nice to have something that just fitted the way he seemed to, like a long-lost piece of a puzzle she'd almost given up on ever completing.
Seeing that she didn't look in the mood to get up, Nick jerked his thumb at the door. "I guess I'll just be on my way now."
Something spurred Taelia to call to him to wait. As he looked her way curiously, she got up, crossed the distance to him, and then stopped awkwardly.
'Oh, boy,' thought Nick nervously. He'd had females look at him like this before. "Something I can do for you?" he asked, resisting the urge to tug at his shirt collar.
She wavered like a diver on the block. "Well, would you mind if I hugged you?"
It was a strange request, considering she'd spent so much of the evening leaned against him at his invitation. Still, he moved his arms out a little from his body as if in warm-up. "I guess not."
So she did, hanging her chin over his shoulder with a smile he could practically see through the back of his head. He'd never understood why some ladies were like this… but hey, who was he to complain? He hugged her back, and wasn't even terribly surprised when her lips pressed against his cheek a moment later.
She, on the other paw, pulled back blushing. He caught a glimpse of her back-tilted ears and averted pupils; familiar enough symptoms, all things considered.
Taelia's brain scrambled like a swimmer at the yell of the word 'shark,' trying to get back to safe terra firma. "Nick, I..."
He chuckled. "It's fine. I know I'm irresistible."
This time her annoyed huff was trying – only trying – to hide a laugh. "Yeah, well, don't get a swollen head." Cracking in her pretense, she added, "It'll ruin your good looks if you're not careful."
Nick's smile never abated. "And what a loss that would be."
Laughing again, she broke off the hug and unconsciously clasped her paws in front of her. "Well, goodnight."
He mimed tipping a hat as he opened the door. "Goodnight," he called. Humming, he strode down the hall and out to his car. 'Wilde's still got it,' he thought to himself, fully satisfied with the flow of events.
Back in her apartment, Taelia could hardly have been more content as she went to her computer to continue preparing for the concert. On that night's agenda, she needed to iron out some settings for the speakers at the concert so the sound waves from one wouldn't disrupt the ones from another. She was a bit distracted, but refreshed and newly energized by the evening's events.
'Things are finally turning around,' she thought, little imagining what a rocky turn it was going to be. Time would tell, though. It always did one way or the other.
Over in Savannah Central, things were not going quite so smoothly. In a lonely apartment, Officer Callie Catano tossed and turned in a vain and increasingly agitated effort to get rest. The walls in her apartment building were not much better than Judy's, though neither had the frame of reference to know it. Most of the time that troubled her little, but tonight the usually quiet apartment next door offered a ruckus even Judy's noxious neighbors could scarcely have topped. It was a cacophonous mix of weeping like someone had lost their mother and groaning like they had taken the words 'All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet' as a challenge. Mixed in were a surprising number of requests to "Make it stop," whatever 'it' was.
"Do you need a doctor?" she called, lifting away one side of the pillow which she had folded over her head.
By the tone of his voice, she could imagine the groaner waving a paw or hoof. "No, I just... ohhhh... I mean, I went to one already."
She bit her lip. Normally she saw duty as duty, but she needed her rest. "Well, would you mind toning it down? I'm trying to sleep."
The party apologized and was quiet for a little while. Helped by her sleeping meds, Catano was just about to drift off when a faint whimpering reached her ears. In no time flat, it had grown into the same lamentations as before.
"I have a job to do tomorrow, you know," she called out.
"I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry. I just can't stop... Ooooaah." The voice, though distorted some by the wall, sounded vaguely familiar.
Finally, after about fifteen minutes of this torment, Officer Catano had had enough. Stomping out her door and down the hall, she banged on the offender's door. "Listen whoever-you-are, what's going on? Do I have to call an ambulance?"
A weak, sickly voice came from within. "Sorry. Really sorry. Hang on... I'll be out in a sec."
Catano hadn't asked for the neighbor to make an appearance, but there was little time to even think about that. Moments later, the door opened to reveal a face she'd never expected to see: a very chubby and passingly familiar member of her own kind.
His eyes opened in wonder. "Officer Catano?"
She stared back as her brain snapped the name to the face like a buckle coming together. "Clawhauser?"
Being that their usual schedules were so different, the two cheetahs had never imagined that they were next-door neighbors. Now they just stared at one another, too stunned to speak.
"Are you sick?" asked Callie at last, remembering the reason she had knocked.
"Oh. No, I'm okay," he replied, his lie as feeble as the voice that uttered it. "Just, uh... just something I ate... or didn't eat."
She raised an eyebrow. She'd seen him looking poorly at work, but this was way out there. "You're that messed up over the doughnut bet?"
He nodded.
Officer Catano thought for a minute, then took a deep breath. Normally she would never suggest what she was about to suggest, but Ben's suffering was really something else. Besides, the way things were going she figured she had three options. Taking extra sleeping pills… well, if she took enough to knock her out at this rate, she might literally never wake up. Giving him sleeping pills would be practical, but might not work if his stomach was hurting that much – assuming he was willing to even take them. That only left what was of course the option least up her alley: talking him through it.
"Why don't you just eat them off the clock?" she asked. The suggestion was not remotely her usual style, but she was willing to suggest about anything if it would get her a good night's sleep. "I mean, it's not like Bogo's got cameras in your apartment. Besides, the whole point is so you'll look more professional on the job, right?"
Ben sagged. "I wish," he admitted, "but I kind of promised no donuts, and I've gotta make good on it. I mean, a promise is a promise, right?"
Callie had to admit, that remark alone was more than she would have given Clawhauser credit for, all things considered. Perhaps he'd make a decent officer after all, if only he could get into shape.
"And anyway," he went on wearily, "I went to the doc for the cramps, and he said I've been eating too much sugar for a long time now. If I don't cut back on the sweets and lose some weight, I could get diabetes or something."
Oh, so it's not all about honesty, she thought, her cynicism making a comeback. It surprised her a little that this didn't completely eclipse her sympathy for him. As it was, she knew it could be tough to break a bad habit. She would sooner cut out her tongue than tell anyone, but when she was a cub her sudden break from her parents had caused her to relapse into thumb-sucking. It had proven so persistent that Major Friedkin had finally resorted to putting castor oil on the digits every night. That might have been why, in the present moment, Callie refrained from mentioning that she had often thought of medical problems when she saw Clawhauser in passing. It wouldn't help... and besides, he looked so miserable already.
It was about then that she realized the predicament in front of her. For all her years of experience as an officer of the law, she was pretty far out of her depth when it came to trying to be an angel of mercy. When it came to victims and the grieving, she mostly just kept them from going completely to bits until more specialized officers or counselors arrived. She had an academic knowledge of counseling, and she'd always been good at psychology, but offering actual comfort... well, to tell the truth she had usually let her partners handle that.
What would Judy do here? she wondered.
Not at all sure that what she was about to do was the least bit wise, she decided to plunge ahead. "Do you want to… I don't know, sit down and talk?"
He seemed a little surprised by the offer. "No, I..." he yawned. "I don't want to keep you awake."
"I think it's a..." she started to say. She had been about to finish, 'little too late to worry about that,' but she managed to stop herself. A yawn cutting her off helped, and gave her a moment to search her sleep-deprived brain for a more delicate reply. "I think I'd... sleep better if I knew you were alright," she offered uncertainly. To her surprise, she found that it was even kind of true.
Ben rubbed his eyes. "Well, just for a little while, I guess," he agreed wearily.
Catano listened, jabbing herself with a claw periodically to stay awake, as Ben talked about things on which her weary brain couldn't catch the slightest hold. After what felt like hours, he finally dozed off on the couch. Since there was no way she'd be able to move him to his bedroom, she found a blanket decorated with a massive print of Gazelle and draped it over his awkwardly sprawled, sleeping figure. Then she dragged herself wearily back to her apartment, and almost managed to make it back to her own bed before fatigue and the sleeping pills finally did their job.
Obearon looked at a phone snapshot of the unconscious white vixen his underlings had taken prisoner.
"Interesting." A hand rose up to stroke the musing chin. "Very interesting. I don't think I've ever had the displeasure of meeting her. Anyone you know?"
Obearon's henchmammal considered the photograph. After some study, his ears flicked back and his gums showed pointed teeth.
"Vanya Zarra," he recited. "Crook for hire, usually tied up with an outfit over in Tundra Town. Skilled in burglary, corporate espionage, and blackmail."
The boss chuckled. "And paw-to-paw combat, by all accounts."
Another nod. "Rumor has it she killed a wolverine with her thumb once," he replied. "No proof, of course."
This was all beginning to interest Obearon a great deal. "And her interests?" prompted the mastermind.
A sour look crossed the henchmammal's face. "Control," he answered. "Of males especially. She'll use any trick to subdue any man she can, usually to bring them to a humiliating ruin later."
Obearon chuckled. "A mammal after my own heart. What a pity she has to be a fox." The mastermind picked up a phone lying on the table and shot off a text message to the vixen's 'jailor.'
Bring her to the conference room at once, was the command. Conduct her with the utmost chivalry, and apologize thoroughly for any discomfort or bother.
Under the Cloven Hoof bar, the ram who had caught Vanya practically snarled at the message. After what that vixen had pulled, he had much more desire to put her through a wall than conduct her nicely, let alone apologize. Still, he had his orders – and where money would not compel swift obedience, the boss also seemed to know pretty much everyone's dirty secrets. One phone call from Obearon – just one anonymous tip from whatever civilian identity lurked behind that voice – could lock everyone in that little hideaway behind bars for decades. Most of them had even longer to worry about, what with the charges of domestic terrorism and attempted homicide hanging over their operation. When orders were agreeable – like making sure someone never saw daylight again – the job was a cakewalk. Otherwise… well, then it was a textbook example of conscription.
Summoning three other rams, all heavily armed, he went to the closet where they had locked her up. With the way she had gotten in he worried that she might have gotten loose, but she had been searched practically with a flea comb and tied in every possible way. For added thoroughness, she had been enclosed in an old trunk with one or two holes drilled for air. To complete the prison, the trunk had no protrusions or rough surfaces inside on which to weaken her bonds.
It was, however, still no small relief when they opened the box and found her awake and in a state of daze-like indifference. She looked up at them as if waking up in such a manner were all perfectly normal to her, and for a moment this unsettled them. That was no accident, of course; Vanya, with her craft and ego, had determined that confusing them was her best chance, since intimidating was foolish at the moment and appealing was beneath her.
After some consideration, two of them fastened snare poles to her wrists and another to her neck. Then, and only then, the fourth one went about unbinding her. Her clothes, unsurprisingly, were in a much rougher, dirtier state than before, and her fur was an absolute mess of dust and disruption. As she became more alert, though, her eyes assumed their usual calm and collected expression.
"I suppose this is the part where you take me to your leader?" she taunted.
The lead ram snorted, but produced a brush and considered before handing it to her. "No funny business from you," he warned, "but the boss wants to speak with you as a guest. Give her some slack, Frank."
With one paw freed to move but still held securely in the noose, she proceeded to put herself in a somewhat better state. Then, when the brush had been taken back, the poles around her wrists were removed and one of the rams took them and the brush out of the room so as to deny her anything she could use as a bludgeon.
"We've been told to be nice," snarled the one in charge – the same ram, of course, who had kidnapped her. "But don't be fooled, doll face. I'll snap anyone who makes a fool out of me. Ya got that?"
She rolled her eyes, but resisted the urge to ask aloud whether his insults or his threats were the more boringly unimaginative. "Alright. I suppose this means I can walk on my own?"
He gestured, and the third noose was removed. After it had been passed out of the room, the lead ram waved for Vanya to come with him.
"Hope you'll pardon the rough stuff, ma'am," he added, doing his best to sound sincere and charming. "Just part of dealing with any snoop, you know."
A coy and somewhat sarcastic smirk crossed Vanya's face, and she lifted her ears in a show of confidence and preparation. "Your boss must find me attractive," she cracked. "I should have worn a better dress."
Amazingly, she could almost hear the ram gritting his teeth. Obviously he was hoping that she'd be a little more off-balance.
Good luck with that, fat boy, she thought. She'd had boyfriends who gave her rougher wakeups than he and his posse had managed.
Her unwilling guide led her to a room with a single chair, a table, and a speaker in the middle of the table. The walls were dingy and stained, and the hint of mildew – though diminished as best as one could expect – tipped Vanya off that they were underground. Probably still under the Cloven Hoof, she mused. That could point to several useful things, like the fact that if the basement of the Cloven Hoof was the group's main headquarters, they probably had few other bases. Assuming she got out alive as was her habit, that could prove most valuable to Mr. Big.
Not to mention the ZPD and a certain dodgy fox will owe me a favor.
"Here's the vixen you wanted to see, boss," drawled the ram. Then, in an unusual twist, the trio left her alone with the speaker and locked the door.
"Greetings," growled the voice of Obearon. "And please, first of all, let me apologize for any rough treatment you may have met. I really will have to deal with those thugs, but then..." Obearon chuckled. "Ungulates can be such a bother."
Interesting, mused Vanya. "I've met with worse."
"Undoubtedly. Your name is Vanya; correct?"
Seeing no point in hiding that fact, she nodded. "Yes, I'm Vanya. If you know who I am, you probably also know why I'm here."
"Of course I do. You wanted to find out about our little operation. Tell me, does it please you?"
She snorted in derision. "Not really. For one thing, finding your hidden entrance was entirely too easy. Even the ZPD couldn't miss it."
"Oh!" Obearon gasped as though in pain, and Vanya could imagine him – or her – slapping a paw to their chest. "I really thought I was paying for better security. Still, I suppose they were good enough to capture you – unless of course you already wished to be caught."
Even without the use of sight or smell to read her host, Vanya suspected that there was some sort of bargain in here. "Let's say I was. Why would I do that?"
Obearon's chuckle was subdued enough not to make it through the phone line. "I know more than just your name, you know. You and I are much the same. We enjoy a good game of chess, as it were; deception, misdirection, domination of the mind of another. Isn't that true?"
Vanya reflected that whoever was on the other end must have some resource with a connection to her. "Sounds like we have a friend in common as well," she observed.
"Very shrewd," came the answer. "And our mutual friend has suggested to me that you might like to know what we're working on down here."
This was leading either to death or to possibilities, and Vanya knew that if they meant to kill her she was already in a tight spot. "I might indeed," she ventured.
"Very well. You see, Bellwether's science was most useful, but the truth is that she never scratched the surface of the Night Howlers' potential. Even in its base form the essences present in the flower weaken higher thought and escalate aggression, but they can do so much more than cause reckless violence. Used properly, they can make an afflicted mammal into an absolute puppet; a perfect slave subject to any suggestion." Pausing to let that sink in, the mastermind continued, "The resulting drugs do not show up on conventional tests, and mammals under their influence give no obvious indication of impairment to observers… or to their kidnappers."
Vanya got the drift. That does sound interesting. Since most of the mammals she… well, dealt with were larger and stronger than herself, 'chemical negotiation' was an old and familiar game to her. She had often struggled with the zombie-like effects of most depressants, which were annoying at best when she wanted her victims to do something and downright hazardous when passers-by noticed the telltale signs. This drug – if it was as good as advertised – sounded much more useful… and more fun, for that matter.
However, she knew enough about bargaining to mask her intrigue. "Sounds like I'd better not take any drinks around here."
This time Obearon did laugh audibly. "Very good; much better than the senseless rabble I'm usually faced with. What a shame I didn't have your card the last time I needed to break in somewhere. Still, perhaps that can be remedied."
Vanya liked the sound of that. "You're leading up to something."
"I am. I have a job or two which need doing, and would be well-suited to someone of your talents."
At this she sighed in a show of regret. "Well, my talents are on a payroll," she admitted, "and if I switch loyalties I might as well tie on the toe tags myself."
A low laugh came through. "Oh, I know a few things about knots," assured Obearon. "Supposing I let you placate your employer on this assignment. Then would you trust me?"
"That depends on what you're asking me to trust you about – and what kind of reward comes attached to the risk."
"Ample funding, and the keys to total control over anyone you choose."
This impressed Vanya. So whoever's informing this Obearon mammal knows me well. I hope it's not someone I've dated. "And the assignment?" she asked.
"First, a test of cooperation to earn your freedom. Second, a test of your talents – beyond merely breaking into this little hide-away, I mean. And third..." Obearon paused dramatically, "I want you to bring me an old associate of mine. She'll come willingly; no doubt of that."
Interesting, mused Vanya. "And what kind of cooperation would you want from me?"
"It takes a spy to spot a spy,"was the answer. "Have you noticed any others around the Cloven Hoof?"
A smile grew on her lips. Two birds, one stone, she mused. "As a matter of fact… yes."
Well, that's rather ominous. A ship headed for rocky waters, and a professional criminal headed for trouble. Is it just me, or is this story getting a whole lot messier? And what's going to happen with Clawhauser and Catano?
Little bit of a science lesson in case Taelia's evening work plans confused anyone. Sound waves, much like waves in water, can effect other waves passing through the same space at the same time. Depending on how the waves meet, they may cancel each other out, produce bigger waves, or just garble each other. Assuming Taelia was able to get the data she needed on the layout of the room where the main concert would take place and where the speakers would be (presumably every band would use the same speakers, supplied by Poisson and/or her staff), she could fine-tune her music programs to ensure the best possible results.
This was admittedly a very difficult chapter to write, particularly Vanya's part. I'm not a fan of using chemicals of any kind to control people (not even a fan of most ADHD meds, really), so trying to get inside the head of a character who uses them as frequently as Vanya would is… well, uncomfortable. Not to mention that trying to keep my K+ rating was a challenge as well. Also, my apologies to the readers who grew fond of Vanya in Santa Clawed; in this storyline, she's going to take a rather darker path. Not saying she will or won't turn to the light eventually, but if she does it's going to take more than seeing someone choke on a cookie to sway her this time.
Easter Eggs
Ratatouille
Skyrim
Lot of Guest reviewers on this chapter (I think it might be the most I ever got). I wish I could respond more interactively with some of you, because there were some interesting points raised in critique of my presentation and OCs here. If any of you want to comment through profiles so we can PM, feel free. I won't bite, I promise.
Guest 1: On the struggles relating to Catano and Taelia, it might have been better marketing-wise to present their troubled pasts up front. The reason I went about it this way is that in real life, most people's scars aren't so obvious. Take Officer Catano, for instance, who alluded to being adopted back in chapter thirteen. Would she likely just come out and say, "My parents used to beat me" or "Some punk shot my mom and dad while they were out on a date night"? Probably not. Most of us keep those scars hidden so well that friends, spouses, parents, and children would never guess it in a hundred lifetimes. Meanwhile, the rest of us never even think about the pain all around us. I wanted to drive that point home, so I settled on a "slow burn" approach. I might do side stories later on which will be more up front with those aspects; certainly the feedback on such an idea has been favorable thus far.
On Nick and Taelia's chemistry, I think if you look back you will see a physical side to the chemistry, even on Taelia's much more reserved side. It may not be the wide road these days, but for reasons to be revealed as time goes on it's the road that seems, to me at least, right for the characters and for me as an author.
Guests 2 and 3: Glad you're enjoying it. Savor the sweetness while it lasts, because as I just hinted to Guest 1, things get rocky later on. If you want more sweetness, though, I can see about serving up some more - if not here for the time being, then perhaps in side stories like my "Fox Dens and Rabbit Trails" collection.
Blast Hardcheese: I suppose that comes down to a question of what's "bland" in a relationship. Depending on what you mean by "outside my comfort zone," it's fair to say that I do have a dim view of the hook-up culture and that Taelia has good reasons to have a still dimmer take on it. At any rate, while she wants intimacy – both emotional and eventually physical – but she's not looking for shortcuts. In that sense perhaps she is a bit less exciting than Nick, but there are other brands of interesting. I'm aiming more for a "still waters run deep" approach in her case.
As for automatic approval, it's certainly true that I'm judged more narrowly for trying to develop a character outside the rubber-stamp system of pairing up characters. The flip side of it is that characters like Taelia, however unimportant they may seem on the surface, are at heart the whole reason for all the police action we see Nick and Judy engaging in. On the flip side, some of the most remarkable instances in law enforcement (at least that I've ever heard of) came about when someone totally unconnected got involved. I won't yet say what I have planned for Taelia, of course, but hopefully you'll find it worth the wait. In the meantime, happy reading – and maybe set it up so I can PM you next time. I would have liked to get a clearer idea of some of your thoughts before replying on here.
In any case, everyone by all means keep those reviews coming!
Easter Egg Answers:
Chapter Twelve
The criminal mastermind has a thing for classic literature. Obearon, of course, is a play on Oberon, the unscrupulous fairy king of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. Faust was the name of a fictional character who sold his soul to the devil - kind of like Doug at the moment. Tigerbalt, Jesse's codename, is another Shakespearean troublemaker: the hot-blooded main villain of Romeo and Juliet who, much like Jesse, ends up picking a fight with the hero of the story.
Elder Tails, the video game Kevin mentioned, is a play on the fictional online RPG Elder Tales from the anime Log Horizon. At least that was the real Kevin's idea, though personally I like Skyrim better, as per a reader suggestion.
Chad Clawson's surname is borrowed from Jake Clawson, aka Razor, on the old action cartoon SWAT Kats – which, for you furry fans out there, is apparently in the process of getting a reboot.
Chapter Thirteen
Suggested by winerp if I remember right, the hula figure in the van holds a fishhook as a nod to Moana. Kind of surprised no one called that one.
Kevin's remark about his Illusion Level is a nod to Skyrim.
The mention of an Operative 009 is a nod to the underrated Pokemon movie Mewtwo's Return.
Judy's brain screaming Let it begin is, of course, a nod to Rhino in Bolt. I'll have to see if I can put him in later; maybe make him Judy's love interest for my first crackship (nah, just kidding).
Nick's joke that "maybe her taste runs more toward wolf" is a paraphrase of a line from Steele in Balto.
Kevin's thoughts of nailing Nick's paws to the ground echo a similar sentiment from Batman: The Animated Series characteristically expressed by Commissioner Gordon over Batman's disappearing acts.