The Rabbit Sergeant and the Dragon Cult

[JennyDracos]

A few minutes later, Jess was approaching what had been the door to Oblange's office. "Professor?" she called. "It's me, Jess Dunbar. Detective Conlon is with me."

"Oh thank the heavens," Oblange said from out of sight. "Give me a moment to re-set the warding."

Jess stepped in front of the door, watching as Oblange spritzed a part of the doorframe with what smelled - actually, she couldn't smell a thing from inside the room. He carefully scrubbed at one spot on the frame. An instant later, the smell of worry was pushed aside by the sting of rubbing alcohol.

Conlon swept the hallway twice. "It doesn't look like he's here," he said, and slid his pistol back into its shoulder holster.

Oblange glanced through the doorway at the detective. "That crazy man got away, then?"

Jess shook her head. "No, him we got."

"Good. There, that should do it." Oblange lowered the marker and stepped back and out of the way. "Please, come in."

Jess stepped through the doorway and was immediately body-slammed by twenty pounds of frantic lizard. Charlie keened shrilly and poked his nose under her jacket, then drew his head back and looked at her face. Then he climbed forward, thrusting his head over the shoulder, giving Conlon a quick glance before looking out at the hallway. He hissed spitefully at nothing.

"What's gotten in to you?" Jess said, raising a hand to pat the little dragon's back.

"He was probably worried about you," Oblange said. "I know I was."

As quickly as he had jumped to Jess, Charlie pulled free of her arms and jumped back down, moving to stand between Oblange's feet and the door.

Conlon's gun was back out of its holster, not pointed at the tiny dragon, but held in a low stance. "Dear God, what is that," he whispered.

"That's Charlie," Jess said. "You remember Charlie. From this morning?"

Conlon shook his head slowly. "The lizard this morning was half that size."

Oblange grimaced. "It was perhaps an ill-advised magical experiment, but it seems to have worked out." He raised a hand to forestall Conlon. "It could have been much worse, and I shouldn't have done it, but..."

Charlie looped his head up to look at the professor and cheeped curiously.

"It's not...dangerous, is it?"

Oblange knelt down and stroked the dragon's spine. "I should think he's somewhat more dangerous than a dog or a cat of the size. He seems friendly enough, but I definitely can't leave him here, especially after that...hooligan destroyed my door." He sighed. "At least taking him outside won't kill him, but I'm not entirely comfortable transporting him, either."

Jess frowned. "Do you have a carrier for him?"

"Yes, but it has wire sides. It won't exactly do a lot to keep him hidden."

She grinned. "We can make him invisible, then."

Conlon holstered his pistol and snorted. "Because there's no way that can go wrong."

Jess rolled her eyes. "We won't do it to him, we'll do it to the cage. Make the dragon on the inside of the cage invisible."

"And once he leaves the cage, we'll know. That seems entirely workable." Oblange moved to a pile of books, followed by the small dragon.

The detective sighed. "Well, if you are helping the professor, it might keep you out of trouble. I seem to recall the reason I sent you here was you aren't armed."

Oblange gasped and turned to look at the sergeant, aghast. "You weren't- what were you thinking, running after him like that?"

Conlon raised an eyebrow.

She flushed and nodded at the ring of runes on the floor. "I think it was a side effect. I set up a spell that would let me shoot back, but it worked by temporary enchantment, and...well, even after it blew, I was still mad enough to chase him down and try to rip his arms off."

Conlon frowned reprovingly. "Do I have to tell you what you did wrong?"

Jess snorted. "Ha! No. I threw one fireball, which would have missed even if he hadn't ducked. My spell blew before I could get a second shot off, but not before it gave me high that made me think attacking him was a great idea."

Oblange frowned. "How did it do that, anyway?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It was a spatial effect, which is why it blew but also why it wore off. It applied a temporary enchantment that let me throw fireballs by throwing punches. It must have affected my mind somehow, but I don't know how, which means I don't know how to get rid of it."

The professor sighed. "So probably not a good experiment to repeat."

Conlon was still frowning. "What happened to your phone, Dunbar? You told me where you were and then nothing."

Jess stepped over to her bag, picked up the cold piece of glass and plastic, and tossed it to him. "It went out as soon as he heard me calling you. I don't know if he drained the battery or fried the phone, but it went out at the same time as him blowing the door open."

Conlon sighed. "Well, I'll be busy with the interrogation for the rest of the night. Is there any other way I can reach you?"

Jess nodded quickly. "Definitely. Professor, mind if I take a few paperclips?" At his bemused nod she pulled out a sheet of paper and sketched out the communications spell Babs had been asking about that morning.

While she worked, Conlon looked at Oblange. "Will you be alright? Do you have somewhere safe you can stay?"

Oblange hesitated as he set a medium-sized cat carrier on the floor. "I think so. My house isn't far from here. But I think I would appreciate Sergeant Dunbar's assistance in setting up some kind of warding spell. I have a heavy door, but I had one here, as well."

"Is that alright with you, Dunbar?" Conlon asked.

"Sure!" Jess said, setting a pair of paperclips in the circle of runes, then closing the circle. "And that's the communication spell done."

Oblange's lips worked silently as he translated the runes. "So it requires skin contact, then?"

Jess winked at him. "Not quite! It keys on skin contact. Here you go, Conlon. If I hold mine and want to talk to you, and yours is in your pocket, it will ping. No one else can hear it. If we're both holding one, you'll hear what I say and vice versa."

Conlon took the paperclip and raised his eyebrows.

Jess shrugged. "On the one hand, paperclips aren't exactly hard to come by. On the other hand, they bind two separate things together until they're removed. I don't know how much it matters, but it can't hurt."

The detective barked out a laugh and tucked the paperclip into his ID folder. "That's taken care of, then. Professor, do you need a ride to your house?"

The older man shook his head. "No, I have a vehicle. Sergeant Dunbar, are you comfortable riding with me?"

"That sounds fine. It looks like we get to spend a little more time together, do you like that, Charlie?"

The dragon squealed excitedly.

 

[JennyDracos]

Jess sat on the carpeted floor, across a sheet of easel paper from Oblange on his couch. It looked fancy, much more up-scale than Becky's or Babs' couches but probably also less comfortable. That went for whole slices of the house; uncompromisingly modern, almost minimalist. The carpet was a spotless white; the couch a deep black. The dining area to the right had a bare table with four chairs; the kitchen cabinets didn't have any handles.

But the second-most fascinating thing was on the table in front of her, inked on the easel paper, one large ring in the center, a half-dozen smaller rings surrounding it. Between Oblange and her, they'd come up with a fairly exhaustive list of what Washington could have done to her phone, and each one was enshrined in one of the secondary rings.

The most fascinating thing dozed in her lap, and she gave his spine one more stroke for good luck. Then she set her phone in the center of the diagnostic spell.

A shaft of green light rose up around the phone and immediately dropped, widening and flattening as it spread over the paper. As it reached the edge of the paper it disappeared entirely, but one of the secondary rings immediately went blurry, its lines smearing on the paper.

"Huh," Jess said.

Professor Oblange frowned. "Why would only one small part of the spell fail like that? And would it cause the rest of it to fail, too? The spell took effect, we both saw that, but your phone is still broken."

Jess grinned. "You have it backwards." She gestured at all the little circles with their cleanly inked lines. "The spell in the circle did a diagnostic, and it worked fine. All these little circles around the outside, they didn't trigger at all. The diagnostic spell didn't give them what they needed to activate. This one broke. Which means it was up against another spell."

Oblange's eyes widened. "Whatever that man did is still lingering, then?"

"Yeah, but that's easy to fix." Jess took the paper by the edge, tearing it free from the pad, and set it aside.

"I'm sorry my contribution did not help," he sighed as he stood. "Especially when your addition to the warding spell was so clever."

"Hardly," Jess snorted. "It's only logical. The walls are going to be the strongest place, the door the most vulnerable. So we use a spell to convince the door it's part of the wall, and we key it to the deadbolt so you can still leave. The deadbolt physically enters the wall, so it works symbolically, too."

He grinned over his shoulder as he walked towards the kitchen area. "It is simple when you put it like that. Would you like some more tea?"

"No thank you, Professor." Jess was already sketching the second circle on the new sheet of paper. "I should be going soon."

"Are you sure?" he called out. "We don't know how long it will take to fix your phone."

"But I do," she smiled, looking across the open floor. "The first spell told us two things - one, that he caused at least one open circuit, and two, that his spell lingered on the phone. Since the spell lingered, it's easy to trace and reverse the open, so the whole thing is easily solvable."

"You're sure?" he asked. "I can always make a little more ayamase."

She set her phone in the first ring, then frowned at it. Actually, what had Nowroski called his dispelling circle? Ah, yes, the 'scrubber.' That might add a little symbolic weight. She rubbed the phone against the paper to metaphorically scrape Washington's spell off. Then she set it in the second circle. No need for any action here, the runes were thorough enough and it wouldn't be fighting another spell.

Almost immediately, she was rewarded with the ding of a text message.

"I'm quite sure." She grinned at him and flipped the phone open. The grin widened as she read the message - flight info, from Babs. She'd be in the air tomorrow morning, and on the ground tomorrow evening. Jess could barely wait. Carefully, she tapped in a time for a phone call that evening, sent it.

In the meantime, she had work to do. She dialed Conlon's number.

"Conlon. Go."

"Hey, Detective, this is Sergeant Dunbar. We fixed my phone. Do you need me for anything?"

"No. Wait." The line was silent for a minute. "Actually I might be able to use you here at the station. Where are you right now?"

"I'm still at the Professor's."

"I'll send a squad car."

 

[JennyDracos]

The observation room looked a lot younger than the outside of Metropolitan Police Headquarters, though she had come to understand that was fairly normal for DC. The carpet looked new. The desk looked old. The wall to the left looked new, but the two big monitors, one of which was focused on Nathan Washington, served the same purpose as what had probably been a one-way mirror before. The other one showed him seated at a metal table across from Detective Valentine and Detective Williams.

Jess stared at the man's face. It was relaxed, serene. His gaze was focused on absolutely nothing. Valentine was talking - Jess could hear her voice through the desktop speakers - but none of it seemed to penetrate Washington's ears. He seemed to have gone somewhere far away.

"We've been doing shifts since we brought him in, but he's been like that." Conlon scowled. "Which is not very helpful. How much do you know about interrogations?"

Jess licked her lips. "The only time I've been in an interrogation, the Senate Intelligence Committee was doing it."

Conlon's gaze snapped to her. "I thought you were a spy?"

"Air Force Intelligence," Jess glared up at the detective. "I'm an analyst. A lab tech, not even HUMINT. I do research."

He snorted, looked away. "Fair enough. In any case, between me and Valentine we have about ten thousand hours in the box. What I'm thinking is a bit of that research - and maybe the Senate hearings, too."

Jess blinked.

"It's like you said this morning. It is entirely possible that he'll say something to you, even if he won't say anything to us." Conlon shrugged. "As far as he's concerned, you're one of his kind. You'll 'understand.'"

She grimaced. "I hope not."

Conlon frowned. 'You don't have to feel bad for him. You don't have to sympathise, and there's nothing wrong with looking at his decisions and finding them reprehensible. But there's nothing wrong with understanding him. Not that it matters. We need him to talk."

Jess raised an eyebrow. "I saw that knife, Detective. Can't you do a fingerprint match?"

"Oh, he killed Tom Hill. We can prove that. We don't need a confession." Conlon took a few steps towards the screen, then turned around to face her. "But he didn't kill Victoria Trepes. He had, or more likely is, an accomplice, a copycat. There's still another killer out there, and we need to find him. Or her."

Jess blinked. "So you want me to just walk in and see if he starts talking?"

"Not quite," he said. "We've shown him pictures of the thing he wrote on the wall, but he hasn't responded to it. But can you figure out what it sounds like out loud?"

She froze. The thought hadn't even occurred to her.

Conlon shrugged. "It is a language, right?"

"Yes, of course..." Jess pulled out her notebook, tore a blank page from the back, then flipped through to her translation spell. "Do you have a pair of scissors? And some tape." She traced along the top of the sheet of paper, then began carefully lettering her runes.

Silently, he pulled open a desk drawer.

A minute later, Jess had sliced the four identical stanzas apart, trimmed them, then formed each one into a hoop and taped it closed. She pressed one of the loops to her ear, then pulled out the translated prophecy. Carefully, she reminded herself that she just wanted to hear what it sounded like. Then she whispered the words.

The language was harsh, sibilant. Even just the sound of it in one ear made her think of fire, and of scales. It made her other self go statue-still. Jess ignored her, whispered the words in English again, listening to the translation in her ear.

Carefully trying to balance intonation and pronunciation, Jess mimicked the sounds she'd heard. "The Deaf God Vranex-" No, no, not quite right. She grimaced and looked at Conlon. "This is not a language that was made for human mouths."

He heaved a sigh and leaned against the desk. "I am not looking forward to seeing Oblange's pet on a scale big enough to make the claw marks we saw at the first scene."

She passed him one of the paper loops. "Have a listen, see how close I am."

"Why four?" he asked.

"For the other detectives. He speaks the language, he may well respond in it."

A few minutes later, Jess was following Conlon into the interrogation room. It was no bigger than the observation room had been, but there was less in it; a few cameras, a bare table, three chairs, and a killer.

Washington still smelled of blood, fire, and marijuana. He sat motionless, his breathing even and steady. His eyes were glazed over as he stared at the blank wall on Jess's right.

Then they weren't.

Nothing other than his eyes had moved, but now he was looking at her. Her other self was frozen again, but Jess just narrowed her own eyes. She had her own priorities. Right now, that meant trying to figure out what was going on in his head.

Good to know Conlon had been right about what would make the first crack in Washington's armor, though.

As Conlon sat down, he set a manila folder on the table in front of him. He watched Washington while he waited for Jess to sit. Then he began. "Tell us what happened this morning, Nathan."

There - a tiny, tiny twitch of his eyelid. Honestly even Jess hadn't seen it; that was her other self, frozen and waiting for the big scary predator to move. Jess herself matched up the timing. It was his name he had reacted to. Why?

That was his only response, though. He kept staring at Jess's face.

Conlon waited a space, then moved on. "There's no point in concealing anything, you know." He flipped open the folder, pulled a glossy photo off the top of a stack. It was a close-up picture of the knife still stained with Tom Hill's blood. "We have your prints on the murder weapon." He flipped through more pictures. "On your roommate's skin, on the bowl. In your writing in his blood."

That was her cue. With the ease of twenty recitals in ten minutes, Jess pronounced the word of the prophecy Washington had written on the wall.

A wide smile swept across Washington's face. "I knew you were one of us!" he replied in the same language, translated by the loop of paper tucked in Jess's ear. "But then, you would be, wouldn't you? No one knows better than you how much the world is changing. Not like these." He curled his lips and twitched his head towards Conlon. "They're relics of the old world. They're gone, they just don't know it yet."

Jess's eyes had caught on Washington's teeth. Were they...had he sharpened them? No, she'd have noticed that morning. Had he changed himself, then? A part of her remembered what he had said to her earlier that day.

His teeth weren't sharp enough to take a bite out a person. Yet.

Damnit, she needed a distraction before her own fear showed. "Nathan?" she asked.

"An old name, for the old world." His smile widened. "The wizard Deresfedt told me that I could take a new name once I proved myself. And so I did."

"Take a name?"

"Oh, that's not something I can do on my own. Nor was proving myself, but Tom helped me with that part."

Jess's mouth went dry. "Did he know what you were going to do?"

"Dude, he was such a fucking buzzkill, you know?" He looked down at the photos, then snorted derisively. "He should be honored to be one of the sacrifices we offered to the Dread God. To be counted among the wise. Jesus, he had the power to change the world in his hands and he used it to make pizza. To make god-damned ice cream."

Conlon's thumb rose up to touch the crucifix around his neck, but Washington continued to ignore him.

Jess tilted her head. "Have I met this 'Deresfet' guy?"

"Deresfedt," Washington said. He closed his eyes, a blissful smile on his face. "You'd know if you had. He has this feeling of power. Just raw power, and the will. And wisdom. He told us that wizard is an old term for wise man, and it fits. It so fits."

"Us?"

"Yeah!" He leaned towards Jess, shaking his hands, the chain between his handcuffs rattling. "He taught me how to punch up my stuff, how to make it grow back so I could sell more. My buyers loved him."

"Where can we find him, Nathan?"

He went still, and the smile fell off his face. He stared at Jess for a moment, then looked at her ear. At the slip of paper which was just barely visible. His voice went flat. "You're one of them, aren't you? You're just another tool of the old system. I thought - you of all people should understand."

"I do understand," she said.

He rolled his eyes and turned to look at the wall. "You don't. I want my phone call. I know my rights."

Conlon scooped the photos up in the folder. "Terminating interview. An officer will be in to take you to Holding. You'll get your phone call once you're there."

 

[JennyDracos]

As soon as they were out of the room, Jess's phone chirped. She frowned as she checked the incoming caller. Looking up at Conlon, she said, "It's my commander," then answered it.

"Jessica. How are you doing?"

She frowned. There had been an odd note in his voice. Doubt? Concern? "I'm doing fine, sir. Is something wrong?"

On the other end of the line, she heard him take a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Something I'd rather talk about in person. Have you eaten yet?"

"No, sir."

"Alright, I'll pick you up. Where are you at?"

"One moment, sir." Jess lowered the phone. "Detective? He wants to meet with me. Do you still need me tonight?"

Conlon shrugged and looked at the two vice detectives. "Not much we can do tonight. We have to wait for him to get a lawyer, we have to wait for something to break on Murray. You two?"

Valentine shrugged. "We're in. Captain says we pick your brain as long as we can, but that can wait. This shameless reprobate is going to do some research into Washington's 'buyers.'"

"Alright, then." Jess raised her phone to her ear. "Sir? I'm at police headquarters. I can meet you out front."

"Still? I'd hoped - well, I'll see you in about ten minutes. Alright?"

"Yes, sir. See you then."

Ten minutes later, Colonel Rogers pulled up in the rental car. He gave her just enough time to buckle in before he pulled back out into traffic. "I'm surprised to still see you there. I thought you were just going to brief them about this 'cult.'"

"So did I, sir. But the detective thought I might be helpful, so we were mostly running around the city all day." She hunched over, thinking about how different the day had been from what she was used to. "We interviewed people with a connection to the first deceased, then there was a second killing, and we worked that crime scene. Then we arrested the killer." She decided not to mention the part where she'd tried to chase down the killer with absolutely no plan.

"So it's done, then."

Jess sighed. "No. No, because he was just following the leader when he made his kill. He's not the founder, and the man who killed Victoria Trepes is still out there."

Rogers pulled into a curb spot, then turned off the car. He sat in the driver's seat for a moment, clearly thinking hard.

"Sir?"

He looked over at Jess. "Sorry. How sure are you this is related to Colombia and central Africa?"

"Directly related? It's not. But the same kind of thing?" She closed her eyes. "How sure is it humanly possible to be? Because that's where I'm at."

He dropped his head against his seatrest. "Alright. I need you to give one high-level briefing tomorrow morning about the case. And expect questions about the connections."

"Sir? I'd really rather be available if Detective Conlon needs magical support."

"I know, Sergeant Dunbar, but it's a very high-level briefing."

She stared at him. "...How high-level?"

"It will be a repeat of this morning, with intention and planning." He looked at her. "Apparently the Undersecretary of Defense for Intelligence thought the information you provided was useful and would like to hear some more."

She gulped.

"At least you know going in this time." He clapped her on the shoulder. "Now come on, let's get some food. Things won't seem so bad then."

 

[JennyDracos]

Officer Jaime Fuentes was coming to the end of a long, slow shift. Working Holding was a thankless job at best; the closest it got to 'not boring' was trying to get all the paperwork done in time, unless things went entirely to hell. Which would happen if you ever let the mind-numbing boredom actually numb your mind.

He was counting the days until he could transfer back to the streets. He'd spent enough time in Patrol to know that you couldn't fix everything, but you could fix some things. And this was an important step-stone in his career; it just sucked to actually do it. He just had to take it one shift at a time.

All he had to do was get everyone their dinners, finish the documentation, and hand over the shift to the poor bastards working mids.

And that had to wait for the asshole cartel attorney to finish up in interview. He was talking to the new guy, the one Homicide had said needed to be in his own cell.

That was a bit odd; the buzz said that the new guy was a college student who'd butchered his roommate and started looking for more victims in some kind of religious exstacy. He hadn't been a problem prisoner, but there was a reason there was a set of bars between him and the guys in the drunk tank. But why someone had paid the asshole cartel attorney to come in and deal with an open-and-shut case of a guy who committed murder in his own home and didn't clean up any trace - well, that was weird.

Either way, though, it meant he had to get the Sergeant, escort a spree killer from his cell to interview, cuff him in interview, get the asshole cartel attorney, stand outside interview close enough to make sure the spree killer didn't attack his lawyer but far enough to not break attorney client privilege, then do everything else in reverse order. Instead of, say, getting everyone fed and making them shut up about why he hadn't fed them yet.

Maybe the new guy had been horning in on the cartel and the lawyer was here to quietly assassinate him? No, that was dumb. Wait - maybe they were paying him to make sure the competition lost trial? No, that was only marginally less dumb. Damnit, now he was speculating.

The asshole cartel attorney was standing up and moving towards the door. Thank the Good Lord it had been a quick interview, then. Fuentes breathed a sigh of relief and moved towards the door, pulling out his keys. He took a quick look at the suspect's cuffs. Still good. He opened the door.

The asshole cartel attorney looked at Fuentes. "Inform Detective Conlon that my client will not be making any statement without my presence, and I have to be in court tomorrow morning."

And this was why Fuentes called him the asshole cartel attorney. But saying that out loud wouldn't be helpful. "Of course, Mr. Ramirez," Fuentes said.

The asshole turned to look at the new guy. "This is a favor for Carlos," he said. "You make a liar of me and he will make you regret it, you and your 'wizard' friend."

The new guy just looked at him, not even blinking.

The asshole looked at Fuentes, and Fuentes was surprised and a little pleased to realize that he was actually scared of the serial killer. "Whatever," the asshole said. "I gave you Dersfed's message. You just let me do the talking. Let's go, officer."

As Fuentes closed the door and locked it, he looked at the new guy. The new guy was looking right at him. It might have been his nerves, but he thought the expression on the guy's face had changed.

Was it a trick of the light, or was he smiling?

 

[JennyDracos]

Jess always liked to be early, especially when the alternative was being late for a meeting with a man who outranked four-star generals. That was why she was at the specified room fifteen minutes before Colonel Rogers had told her to show up.

Even so, she was a little taken aback when she got there and found the door locked. Very locked. There was a keypad on the door handle, a combination lock deadbolt, a badge reader, and a magnetic sticker that said 'SECURED' on the door. Combine that with the rack of very small lockers next to the door - large enough to hold a cell phone, but not much more - and she knew she was in for a very different briefing than the ones she'd been delivering.

But she'd known that last night.

In any case, if the room was a SCIF that meant it had an alarm and a restricted list of people who could open it, and she was most definitely not on that list. Pulling out her notebook, she flipped though her case notes and skimmed through them one last time. Looking up, she saw that no one else had shown up yet, so she skimmed through them one last, last time.

Then she flipped through to a blank page and started working on an idea that Detective Williams had given her when they went back through Washington's apartment. It would be complicated, but it would also let her put a complicated spell together on the fly. If she could manage it. It would need some hardware - maybe a bracelet? But if the spell on the bracelet was broken that would be a real problem. Re-etching the runes would be difficult - she'd have to basically resurface the bracelet. Replacing it would be expensive, and still require etching the runes all over again. But she could stick with pure theory for now. First of all-

"Good morning, Jessica."

Startled, she almost dropped the book. Her pen actually did go flying, though she caught it. She tucked it into the wire binding, and straightened up. "Sir! Good morning."

Colonel Rogers wasn't alone; next to him was another man, about the same mid-thirties age, in Army camouflage. He was lean, in good shape, but when she glanced at his rank badge, it was missing. He caught the glance and grinned at her. "I'm an Airman Basic," he said.

She snorted, but didn't manage to hide the grin. "That explains why 'Special Agent' is sewn over your nametape, sir. And the badge."

Rogers' own smile was thoughtful. He cocked his head. "You know, I don't think I've seen you that focused on what you were working on since - well, since you were writing the report that got us here." His smile faded into a grimace, then he shrugged. "In any case, this is Special Agent Brooks. We were at the Academy together, though obviously we had very different career paths."

"Pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Dunbar." Brooks briskly shook Jess's hand. "John's said good things about you. I hope you don't mind, I'm going to be sitting in on your briefing."

She froze. Why would the Office of Special Investigations want to watch her - oh, wait. Yeah, terrorism and murder were actually more in their bailiwick than hers or Colonel Rogers'. She shrugged. "That's up to you, sir, but I hope you understand that under the circumstances, there's going to be a lot of deduction based on scanty evidence and pure speculation involved."

Brooks smiled. "That's fine. I'm more interested in how you reach your conclusions than what those conclusions are."

Jess frowned. That made no sense. "Sir?"

Rogers opened his mouth to answer, then glanced past her, to whoever was coming up the corridor at a fast jog. Jess turned to see a woman in Navy khakis. She was dark-skinned, with short black hair, and she was carrying a thick, worn binder. She looked a little familiar. "Sorry, I'm running a little late," she said. "Chief Petty Officer Brittany Allen. You'd be Sergeant Dunbar, I remember you from yesterday, and you'd be Colonel Rogers." She looked at Brooks and raised her eyebrows.

"Special Agent Brooks, Air Force Office of Special Investigations."

"You cleared for this briefing, Special Agent?"

In response, the man pulled a green ID badge from inside his uniform blouse and clipped it to the seam.

"Alright, then. Sergeant, gimme a sec to get this door unlocked and turn off the alarm and then I need you to go over the presentation with me. We don't have a whole lot of time to prepare." With that, she set her binder on top of the cubbyholes, then blocked the dial lock with her body and began spinning.

Jess pulled her phone out of her back and tucked it in one of the cell phone lockers, then flipped back to the case notes.

Rogers tucked his own phone into the next locker and closed it. "Chief Allen, was Daniels able to send you those photos?"

"The briefing is on the high side, which means they have to go through comms to cross the air gap. They hadn't when I checked my mail two minutes ago." The door clicked open, and she stepped through into a dark antechamber. "I'll be back out once I turn the alarm off."

Rogers turned to Jess. "I'm sorry you didn't have access to this information before, but you know our hands were tied."

Jess shrugged. "They still are, aren't they?"

He frowned. "Well, yes and no. On the one hand, the Senate Select Comittee on Intelligence. On the other hand, the Undersecretary of Defense for Intelligence. Officially, you still haven't been read into the compartment. Unofficially, there's no one else who can hope to answer our questions on magic. So you are now the subject of an inter-branch political fight."

Jess froze. Her mouth went dry. She looked at him. "I reenlisted for six years, didn't I?"

"Yes. Yes, you did."

"Any chance I can transfer to the inactive reserve?"

He chuckled. "You can fill out the paperwork. I'll deny it, but you can fill out the paperwork."

"Rats."

"Don't worry, Jessica," he said, clapping her on the shoulder. "I do have a way around this. That's why Agent Brooks is-"

The door beeped and the lock opened, and Chief Allen stepped out. She flipped the sign over to 'Unsecured,' then turned to Jess. "Alright, Sergeant Dunbar, let me show you what I have for the presentation."

 

[JennyDracos]

"Sergeant Dunbar, what would you say is the absolute worst case scenario?" William L Pimsmire was no less intimidating now that she knew he was the Undersecretary of Defense for Intelligence. Rather the opposite. But she still had a job to do, and she still knew her topic, as well as anyone on the face of the planet.

Jess took a deep breath. "Absolute worst case, sir? Central Africa. He completes his prophecy, a dragon god appears in the sky over DC, and burns down the nation's capitol in fire and blood."

The Air Force general snorted. "Do you really think that's possible?"

Jess smiled sadly. "Unfortunately, sir, he does, and that's what counts when it comes to magic. It may not come to that. He may change himself in some way that prevents him from completing his prophecy, or we may catch him first. But that is the worst case."

The Marine general leaned forward. "What about the dragons? What can you tell us about them?"

Jess frowned. "Honestly, sir, we haven't laid eyes on it. It left claw marks that put it at roughly man-sized, and I would expect its scales to be armored. How tough that makes it I do not know."

"But we should be able to hurt it."

"Yes, sir. It has to symbolically be a living creature, even if it technically isn't. Does that make sense?" Seeing by the general's expression it didn't, she backed up and tried again. "Well, it left claw marks, which means it had a physical form. It didn't leave any on the floor or on the door, so it may not have continued to have one. It may not be a real, living dragon, with armored scales and blood and lungs, but it takes the shape of one. And that means that symbolically, 'killing' it would kill it. A pistol or an M4 may or may not penetrate the scales, but if you blow its head off it will cease to symbolically be a living dragon." She grimaced. "Unless there's some additional magical defense, like a shield or regeneration."

"Like his dragon god might." This was one of the Army generals.

"Yes, ma'am."

There was a brief pause while the Undersecretary looked around the room. "Then we'd better let you get back to the business of making sure it doesn't drop in our laps. Dismissed, Sergeant. Ladies and gentlemen, I need contingency plans."

Jess came to attention, then strode towards the door.

Out in the hall, she drew a long, stabilizing breath, and held it for a moment. "Okay. That could have gone worse."

"I think you did good in there," Rogers said from behind her.

She turned to face him, and started as she realized that Special Agent Brooks had followed them out. "Agent? Weren't you a part of that discussion?"

He shook his head. "Over my pay-grade. If OSI is a part of what they decide in there, we'll be employed with Homeland and any specifics would come from that side of the house."

Jess's frown deepened. "Then, sir, why were you here?"

"Like I said, I wanted to see how you got to your conclusions." He smiled and turned to Rogers. "I'm convinced."

"You see? I told you! So, Jessica, we have a proposition for you."

The soft chime in her locker tugged at her attention, enough for her to open it and reach for her phone, but her eyes stayed on Rogers' own. "Yes, sir?"

"Care to do some MPA time under Agent Brooks?"

She hesitated. "Do you really think that's a good idea? What with, you know, Senator Keller."

His grin widened. "Well, your clearance was adjudicated, it's just that we can't read you into any of our compartments. OSI wouldn't need you for those compartments, and while they might ask you to attend their school, as far as magic goes you'd basically have to write the training yourself."

Her phone chimed again in her hand. She glanced down at it.

Five missed calls, all from Detective Conlon, and he was working on six.

She went white. "Sir, I need to answer this-"

He nodded.

"Dunbar! Where the f- where have you been? Answer your phone!"

Conlon sounded pissed.

"I was in a secure room, no phones. What happened?"

"We broke Murray's alibi, traced his cell. He's still in town, and I need you when I talk to him in case he tries something."

Jess's breath caught. "I'm at the Pentagon-"

"I'm there. Entrance five in three minutes."

She closed the phone. "Sir, I have to go right now."

Agent Brooks stared at her, a hungry look in his eyes. "You got something, don't you?"

"Yes, Agent."

"Then go."

Jess closed her eyes long enough to remember the route to Entrance Five, then ran as fast as her feet would take her.

 

[JennyDracos]

Conlon let go of the brake as soon as Jess was in the seat, which meant the door almost hit her hand as its inertia slammed it closed. He threw a glare at you. "Where were you? I've been trying to reach you for twenty minutes!"

"I was giving a briefing." Jess glared at him as she buckled her seatbelt, then gestured down at her blue service dress uniform. "Air Force Intelligence, it's literally my primary job, and it means that when I get orders, I follow them."

He growled, then jerked the car to the right to slide between a cab and a delivery van. "And they didn't let you have your phone?"

"It was a classified room, so no." Jess pulled her seatbelt tight.

"Learn anything useful?"

"Yes, but it's all classified. I'll have to see what is clear for dissemination. Anyway, what happened? You weren't freaking out last night. Didn't you have a trace on his travel?"

"I did. He'd already ducked it, went to the airport, never got on his flight. He never left town, which means he's still up to whatever it was he was up to." Conlon eased past a van, then pulled onto the on-ramp and gunned it. "The long version - the lawyers caved on the surveillance footage. He and Oblange showed up at the meeting like they said, then twenty minutes later he's out the back door. Two hours later, he comes back in."

"So he did kill Trepes."

"He could have. Hold on." He reached down, touching the radio button. "One David Fourteen, entering PSA Two from Virginia with passenger, proceeding on the six-nine-five to Anacostia." He let go of the button and threw her a warning glance. "Remember, he's just a suspect."

"A suspect who smells like blood, with a connection to a known killer and cult member, and access to magic rituals. Who set up an alibi with a camera and then avoided the camera, who spent the money and time to look like he was leaving the area and not actually do so." Jess frowned. "And I can't see how what Washington said to Professor Oblange can be seen as any way other than Murray is this Deresfedt guy."

Conlon looked over at her. "You didn't say anything about that."

Jess blinked. "I didn't?"

"Nope. What were his exact words?"

"Um. It was right when I called you. He started to say Deresfedt, and then switched to Murray. Exact words..." She grimaced. "I can't remember his exact words. It was right before he blew the door in, and I was distracted."

He smacked the steering wheel. "I should have gotten you to write a report as soon as it was over."

She leaned her head against the headrest. "Agreed, though I'm not sure how much help it would have been. There was a lot of adrenaline pumping at the time."

Conlon took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. "Right. For some reason I keep forgetting you're not a cop."

"You've known me for three days, and two of those days I was wearing a formal Air Force uniform."

"I didn't say it was rational." He glanced over. "Speaking of uniforms, I don't suppose you can do anything about that?"

Jess slid her book out of her bag, but didn't bother to flip it open. "Theoretically, yes. Practically, I don't think so. It's a little too fundamental."

"Fundamental?"

"I reenlisted after the incident - when magic was up. And when I took the oath, I meant it, and I think that made a difference. It felt like it made a difference. I don't know why - it's not a spell, there's no mechanism in the oath or anything. But I felt it, and because of that I think it'd be easier for me to turn a civilian suit into a uniform than the other way around."

He signalled, then changed lanes to get past an eighteen wheeler. "Sounds less than useful."

"For today, anyway. I could probably turn a suit into my uniform and then change it back, I just didn't think of that this morning when it would have been helpful. Sorry."

Conlon tapped the brakes and slid into an offramp. "The good news is that the DA is now involved, which means a fast-track on warrants, which is how we found out that Murray never flew out. The bad news is that Washington lawyered up, and his lawyer is apparently Michael Rodriguez, who is the lawyer for the local branch of Los Zetas."

"Wait. Isn't that a Mexican drug cartel?"

"Bingo. That's why it's you and me for this trip. Valentine and her kid are following up on that angle."

Jess closed her eyes. "Should we really be going to see Murray alone? Shouldn't we have a SWAT team?"

Conlon spared her a brief glance and a shrug. "It goes back to what I was saying earlier. We still don't know that he was the one who killed Trepes. We know it wasn't Washington, because we know where Washington was when Trepes was killed. We know Murray wasn't where he said he was then. But we don't know if he has more followers, or who they are. The cartel connection makes things even more worrisome."

"That's a lot of well-armed people," Jess said. "And money and influence."

Conlon nodded, then looked at her. "Remember. Our job is to gather evidence. If we can make certain Murray is Deresfedt, or Murray killed Trepes, or both, so much the better - right now our job is to give the DA the best leverage we can for when he talks to Washington. But don't get too tied to a hypothesis. They're useful to a point, but you're looking for proof, you miss disproof."

Jess closed her eyes for a moment. "So what is it exactly that we're doing?"

"We're poking at him to see what reaction we get." He slid the car into a second offramp, then braked into a line of cars. Ahead, a stoplight turned green. "If - because this is totally a possibility - if we poke at him a little too hard and he tries to kill us, do you have anything that would keep him from succeeding?"

"I've been working on a few things. I have a shield ready to go, and a pair of sleep grenades." Jess glanced out the window and frowned. She hadn't spent much time driving around Washington - she and Rogers had only been authorized one rental car, he needed it and she didn't - but this stretch of road looked very familiar. "But I don't know if they'll do anything against a dragon."

"Well, we'll hope yours works. I have a patrol rifle, but I can't justify carrying it." He turned onto a side street. "Our best bet is to back off and call for backup. Now keep your eyes open. His cell phone records say he's somewhere around here."

Jess's voice went flat. "Bingo. Five hundred yards ahead and to the right."

Ahead of them and down the street, Professor David Murray tapped a button on his phone. He locked gazes with Jess and smiled. Then he turned and walked into the building behind him.

 

[JennyDracos]

Jaime Fuentes made his way down the corridor, making his first round of the day. One week. One more week, and he would transfer back over to patrol.

The cells were a lot more empty in the morning, with most of those who'd spent the night moved over to the courthouse and processed. But as Fuentes reached the end of the corridor, he saw the main exception: Nathan Washington, sitting on the bare concrete of the cell, in an odd sort of meditative posture. He wasn't moving. He wasn't dead - if he had he'd have fallen over - but that just made his stillness creepier.

Shit. How was he supposed to play this? Pretend the guy wasn't making him nervous? Make him stop? There was still over an hour before the asshole cartel attorney and the DA were scheduled to come over, which meant it was too soon to move the guy to interview. But - Jesu, he'd spent too much time standing. If the creep was paying attention, he knew Fuentes was spooked.

And then the creep's mouth curved up into a smile. But it wasn't a 'yeah, I know you're scared of me' smile. It was a beatific one, like the guy had just found religion, and it opened up on a mouth that was full of bright white teeth that looked entirely too pointed. He opened his eyes, and they were beyond bloodshot. He looked at Fuentes with that insane grin on his face.

Fuentes took a step back, and slid the retaining loop off his pistol. A grid of steel between him and Washington, ten feet, the guy was sitting on the ground and he was still too damn close.

Then Washington threw his head back and screamed something, the concrete around him crumbled to dust, and Fuentes saw a glimpse of runes drawn in dark red - dried blood - and then something came out of nowhere and ripped through the steel grid like it was tissue paper.

 

[JennyDracos]

The instant Jess stepped into the storefront her nose was assaulted by smells. Soap, wet hair. Electric motors, disinfectant. That matched what she could see when she looked past Conlon - sinks, mirrors, abandoned cabinets that would have held the tools of the barber's trade. Those scents were faint, however; whatever this place was now, it was no longer a barber shop. All of the chairs had been yanked out, and no barber would let his blades get as rusty as the few Jess could see.

It was the more recent smells that bothered her. Smoke was the strongest, smoke in multiple varieties. There was wood smoke, burned paint. Cigarettes. Marijuana, with some of the same sulphurous overtones she'd gotten from Washington's apartment. Someone here must have been one of his buyers - or he'd come here on his own. She could also pick up just a whiff of gasoline, too.

The scent of blood that clung to Murray was strong here, and her other self didn't like that any more than she liked the smoke.

It was the chalk that was making Jess herself nervous, however.

Conlon only took two steps through the door before he stopped. Jess stepped to his right, saw what he must have seen, and came to an abrupt halt herself.

The walls may have shown their barbershop heritage, but the center of the room had been gutted. The tile floor had been ripped, almost peeled away, leaving a rough concrete circle about fifteen feet in diameter. The concrete was charred and stained, but still smooth. With a feeling of growing dread, Jess realized that this was Murray's equivalent of what Becky's house was to her.

There were even three people in the room waiting, though the two who were flanking Murray looked more like guards than friends, or even fellow experimenters. Their skin tone couldn't have been more different, but they were dressed in identical windbreakers, their hair shaved. Neither of them moved - they just stood, hands at their sides, heads facing forward. They didn't even blink. Only the faint sound of their breathing told Jess they were alive. Though, that wasn't entirely true - the one on the left had locked his gaze on Conlon, and the one on the right had locked his gaze on her.

Between them, sitting in a chair backed up all the way to that far wall, was Professor Murray. The chair was a soft, comfortable looking chair, the kind that looked like it had graced an office for years. It was soft, brown leather, worn smooth by long use - and Jess realized she was trying to avoid thinking about the man in the chair.

Because he wasn't Murray, not really. There was a wild glint in his eyes that Murray hadn't had. The smell of blood had grown stronger, and the smile he wore had changed. When they'd met in Oblange's office, Murray's smile had a salesman's quality to it; plastic, pro-forma. It had said "You should like me, because I am a nice person. You should trust me and buy what I am selling you."

This man's smile was disquieting. Genuine, but disquieting. It said "I love what I am doing, no matter how many people die."

The smile told Jess what she'd already known.

"Professor Murray," Conlon said.

The man's smile vanished into a look of distaste. "I think not, Detective. I could perhaps put up with that name for a little longer, but not much. It's an old name, for an old world. And we are in a new one, aren't we, Sergeant?"

"Are we?" Jess asked softly.

"But of course we are." He shook his head softly. "Don't play games with me, Sergeant. You feel the new world every time you take a breath. I've seen the before photos."

"So," Conlon drawled. "Deresfedt?"

Murray - Deresfedt - grinned, his ever so slightly manic expression returning. "Exactly!"

"Care to tell me about Victoria Trepes a second time?"

"What's to tell?" The 'wizard' shrugged. "Oh, I heard plenty from Simon about her. He said she was bright, capable, and he thought her research showed promise."

"Jealous?"

"Of a woman?" Deresfedt smiled. "Not in the slightest."

"Then why?" Conlon frowned, taking one more step into the room.

"Why what?" Deresfedt's eyes widened in pretend-innocence. "Why did I spend four hours in a bar? It was a departmental function. The old world is gone, yet until we can brush it aside, social obligations linger."

"Interestingly, the recordings differ with you on how much time you actually spent at this 'social obligation.'"

Deresfedt leaned back into his chair. "Perhaps I went outside to have a smoke."

"For three hours?"

The killer just smiled.

Perhaps another tack. Jess stepped forward, so she was slightly in front of Conlon. "Can you tell us about Vranex?"

All three faces locked on her.

Jess froze. Her other self was caught between 'move and they'll kill you' and 'get out get out get out,' defaulting to the former. It was the first motion she'd seen from the two guards; the one watching her had followed her with his eyes, but it wasn't until she'd said the name of their 'Dragon God' that he had turned. Now he had, as had his partner and Deresfedt. For a moment, everyone in the room was still.

Then Deresfedt gave her a toothy grin and leaned back in his chair, the two guards turned their heads forward again, and the moment passed.

"You should be careful saying that name," Deresfedt said. "You might attract his attention."

"Would that be a bad thing?"

Deresfedt's grin faded, and he looked past her. "That depends on you. There is a reason he is the Dread God. To see him is to know fear. So, you tell me." He met his gaze, that mad light glinting again. "Are you willing to sacrifice the part of you that will not survive the experience?"

"What did you sacrifice?" Jess paused. "Or rather, what did David Murray sacrifice?"

He looked past her again, then blinked. With a slight shrug, he turned to Conlon. "Detective, your phone is ringing. You'll want to deal with that."

Conlon glared at Deresfedt, put pulled out his phone. Without turning away from the wizard, he tapped the screen on his phone and raised it to his ear.

It was quiet enough that even with her other self, Jess couldn't hear the whole thing - just 'major incident' and 'the block.' Whatever it was made Conlon pale, and his hand came up to touch his collarbone. After a moment he said "I copy," and tucked the phone back in his pocket. "We need to go," he said. "As for you - don't leave town."

Deresfedt smiled again. "Oh, I'll be seeing the two of you very soon, I think."