by J. B. Garner
Bunny rolled her eyes as she pushed off the counter. “Twin Moons, we’ll only be gone for a little bit. Don’t blow it out of proportion, your Highness.” The two exchanged a petty death glare for a moment before I pushed past Bunny back towards the counter, clearing my throat in the process.
“Enough of that, you two.” I swung the counter door wide. “Let me get my work bag, Bunny. Meet you outside?”
“I’ll be waiting.” Bunny turned toward the door, sucking on her smoothie as I unlocked it with another snap of my fingers.
The moment she was gone, Aelfread turned towards me, any resentment replaced with a carefully concealed worry. If we weren’t as close as we were, I wouldn’t have been able to call his bluff. “I know this is my first night, Mary, but rest assured that Johnny and I shall soldier on. Just do make sure to, well, you know …”
I pulled the leather messenger bag I kept stowed behind the counter out, flashing Johnny a reassuring smile before focusing on Aelfread. “I promise to be careful. Don’t worry much, though. I’ll have Bunny with me, and she is one of the best.” I shrugged as I threw the satchel over my shoulder. “Besides, as she said, it’s a quick, simple job. What could happen?”
So, you see, in retrospect, everything that happened that crazy night was one-hundred-percent my fault.
2
The last time I had been in Bunny’s bright pink Kia was the night I had first met her when she hauled Aelfread and me in and handed us over to Mr. Sinclair. Nothing had changed about the box-on-wheels other than the feeling inside (if you didn’t count the Spring Breeze air freshener). Instead of fear and anxiety over what was ahead, there was friendship and eager anticipation for the job to come.
I leaned back in the passenger seat, my work bag in my lap. The weight of its contents, my leather-bound notebook, a few sturdy pens, a claw hammer, and a bound selection of chisels, was an added comfort as I glanced over at Bunny as she pulled out into the mostly deserted city streets. “Well, what can I do for you tonight?”
“Honestly,” she said without taking her eyes off the road, “it will likely turn out to be nothing, but I wanted a cool head with some more, well, external magic as back-up just in case.”
I frowned a bit as I focused my green eyes on her. “And that was basically a complete avoidance of the question, which isn’t like you at all.” Arching an eyebrow, I pressed on. “How about we cut to the chase, okay?”
Her nose scrunched up as she cast me a sidelong glance. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” She turned back to the road, guiding us towards I-675 and the Saginaw River. “You know how there are some kinds of people that you simply don’t like to work with? I’m sure certain folks get under your skin, right, Mary?”
“I don’t think I’d put it quite like that, but I guess.” I scratched my beard thoughtfully. “You’re still not answering my question, though.”
Her blue eyes rolled. “I’m getting there, okay?” She let out a harsh sigh. “I got a call about a problem a local Figment family is having. A Garou family. Someone’s gone missing, but it’s probably nothing. Most missing persons cases, even for people like us, comes down to a misunderstanding, a simple accident, or the missing person leaving of their own accord.”
Mulling that over in my brain for a moment, I thought I was starting to see what Bunny was reticent about. Though she took her duty as a Huntress as some utterly incorruptible thing, she sure didn’t like being a Lapin Garou, shifting into her rabbit form as little as she could manage, which unfortunately for her was way too often. Shapeshifting as they did was the natural magical talent of the Garou, no matter the subspecies, and in Bunny’s line of work, she had to rely on both that magic and the superior physical power her rabbit form provided.
Maybe that frustration with that carried over into a general distaste for Garou in general.
“Are you hiring me for rune service or to help keep you honest?” Why beat around the bush when I could go straight for the important question?
I hit a nerve, that was for certain. Bunny’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the wheel ever tighter and her eyes glinted with red light. “Maybe I should have brought Aelfson. At least he isn’t so damnably direct.” I could tell she was trying to reign her temper in, though, as she didn’t go full fursplosion in my face. “I’m always honest when it comes to my job, Mary, but I guess that, in a way, you’re correct. I don’t like dealing with other Garou and yes, having you along to keep me on task is one of the reasons I’m hiring you.
“Don’t let that make you drop your guard, though! Even a simple bit of tracking work can get complicated when Garou are involved. If this guy doesn’t want to be found and we do find him, things could get ugly. If you hadn’t noticed, we all have a bit of a temper problem.”
We eased on to the highway as the sleeping city passed on both sides. From the way we were going down the 675, we would cross the river right by the Cathedral District. Every once in a while, the faint electric tingle at the back of my neck told me of other Figments living their lives among the vast wash of humanity.
Nodding slowly, I stretched to put a hand on Bunny’s shoulder. “You’re right, I probably shouldn’t have put it like that.” She nodded slowly, and I could feel her relax under my touch. “Whatever you need me to do, I’m yours.” I settled back into my seat. “Even if you weren’t paying me.”
Bunny nodded slowly and managed a half-smile. “Thanks, Mary. How an upstanding, hard-working lady like you fell for Aelfson, I’ll never know.”
I decided not to go into that one. I don’t think Bunny will ever completely understand or accept the love Aelfread and I have, so it wouldn’t do any good to press her about it. Instead, I focused on the task at hand.
“So what kind of Garou are we dealing with? What family?” I let my eyes wander to the passenger side window to watch the city roll past. We’d hit the bridge soon, and the river was beautiful to see at night. “Some facts before we get there would be helpful so I can at least get started on some runewords.”
You see, every kind of magic that exists relies on four principles to function. One of those was motion, and the motion of rune magic was writing or inscribing the runes ahead of time. It wasn’t something you wanted to do on the spur of the moment, not with an angry were-creature of unknown variety breathing down your neck.
Going into the facts of the case helped and Bunny turned into the serious cop that I knew so well. “Family may not be the best word. Technically, they call and think of themselves as a pack.”
“Loup Garou, then?” Werewolves made logical sense, and I had heard they were the most common sort of Garou out there, hence all the myths and legends.
“Ah, well, no.” Bunny managed to crack a smile as we hit the bridge. “Not exactly. These folks are Garou Chien.” When I turned from my nice view of the river to give her a blank stare, she explained, “Dogweres.”
I blinked slowly. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
The Huntress nodded slowly. “Yes, well, if you’re thinking it means dogs that can change into people.” Her lips curled into a frown. “Now you might understand why I really want some backup on this one. It’s not as bad as dogs and cats, but most outdoor dogs worth their salt will chase a rabbit if it can.”
My response didn’t come immediately. I mean, I was now used to many things. Dragons, Elves, Goblins, people that turned into rabbits, magic, even religious folks who could really work a miracle or two, that was all natural to me now. Animals turning into people, well, that was both new and a bit mind-blowing.
“All I can think of now is how many of the wonder animals in Mr. Genovo’s carnival were actually Garou slumming it.” I glanced back to Bunny as we popped off the bridge and rolled into the west side of Saginaw. “I’m guessing in their animal shape, they don’t ping as Figments like you don’t when you’re fully human.”
“Correct.” She leaned forward a bit in her seat, turning her attention to navigating the streets. “This pa
rticular pack are the Sandersons. Live in the Cathedral district, one of the refurbished houses near St. Mary’s. They blend in as humans most days of the week, normal, hard-working people from what I hear.”
We were close, then. As the Kia swerved towards the off-ramp to 6th Avenue, I pulled out my notebook and my favorite pen. “So, someone like that popping off is a little concerning.”
“Because they’re dogs?” If this was a test or something, trying to prod out my feelings on playing, in essence, supernatural dog catcher, I couldn’t tell by her nonchalant attitude.
“No, though I suppose that whole pack mentality thing would figure in.” I flipped to an open page. The paper was sturdy, and the entire book was something I custom ordered from a bookbinder. He had been surprised when I asked that all the pages be perforated to be easy to tear out. “My reason for saying that is what you said about them. Honest, hard-working folks usually don’t disappear without a good reason.”
“No, usually not.” She shook her head a little. “Still, Garou can be weird, especially animal ones. Combine animal instincts with human cognitive ability then all sorts of arcane rules and customs, and you get a real mess when it comes to pegging motivations and actions. I prefer doing collars for just about any other Figment instead of them.”
I raised my pen as if to raise an objection or make a counter-point, mainly because I had several already. After all those assurances that this would be simple, that this was likely just a simple misunderstanding, Bunny had to bring out all these things that sure made it sound the opposite of simple entirely.
The Huntress cut me off with a raised finger of her own. “Don’t. Please. Just trust me. This will all go smoothly. Just keep an eye out and help me keep cool, okay?”
Part of me wanted to challenge her on this, but the wiser part of me decided to let it slide. After all, Bunny had never done wrong by me. In fact, she had done plenty good for me. “Well, sure. I trust you and your judgment. These are your people, after all.”
As she guided the Kia through the streets of darkened houses and sleeping families, Bunny slipped into a faint smile. “Well, thanks, Mary. I appreciate the trust.” Glancing out the window, she pointed at a quaint, two-story home approaching on our right. “That’s the place.”
With so little information still and so much else on my mind, I put aside the notion of whipping up some fresh runewords, trusting in the batch of generic ones I already had in the book. Instead, I focused on where Bunny was pointing as she slowed and prepared to park on the street.
With only the glow of the street lamp out front and one of the front windows, it was hard to make out too many details about the place. The lawn looked well-groomed, and I could just make out a tree line in the back, past a white picket fence that separated the front and back yards. A low, covered porch ran along most of the front which only added to the gloom out front.
I was a little concerned that the porch lights were off. Surely the Sandersons were expecting Bunny to show up any minute. Hunters and Huntresses were usually called in by Figments with problems, after all.
The one sensation that I wasn’t sure meant good or ill was the lack of Figments that I could feel. Other than a faint tingle in the base of my spine, the place seemed completely clear of anything supernatural. Maybe it was nothing. After all, they probably slept in their natural states, and that tingle might be the one waiting up for us in a more human shape.
Or maybe it meant the rest of the family had gone the way of their missing packmate.
“Bunny …” I began as she brought the car to a full stop and pulled up the parking brake.
“I know,” she answered with a nod. She slid seamlessly into Truespeech. “We will be most careful. Though this is likely nothing, we will not be caught unawares.” She opened her door. “It would be best to stick to Truespeech. Many of my animal-born cousins speak it far better than any human tongue.”
I nodded as I popped out the passenger side, landing heavily before slinging my bag over one shoulder. “Lead the way, Huntress, and I shall follow.”
There was no front walk through the immaculate yard, only a driveway leading up to a few concrete stepping stones to stairs that led onto the porch. We made our way up the drive, Bunny in the lead with me close on her heels, both of us trying to be as calmly alert as possible. There was an older model Ford sedan parked under the carport that extended from the porch and, as with most of the front, no lights came from the windows. In fact, it was clear they had been shuttered.
Again, I wasn’t sure if this was something to worry about or find natural. If, for instance, the Sandersons walked around as, well, dog people a lot, you would want to keep that fact away from curious neighbors and peeping toms alike. As Bunny didn’t pause, I didn’t either, and so we made our way across the stepping stones (at least I used them, Bunny was a bit more thoughtless about the Sandersons’ yard) and onto the porch.
Though the front windows weren’t all shuttered, the ones along the porch had heavy curtains drawn across them. Even the lit one was so shrouded I couldn’t see anything beyond the curtain save for some vague shadows.
Bunny glanced over at me and shrugged in the gloom. “Nothing to be done for it.”
I nodded and gestured at the door. It, like the house, was old but well-kept, a solid wood thing painted some dark color that made it look nearly black in the shade of the porch. Bunny stepped towards it and rapped on it three times in rapid succession, each time harder and louder than the last.
Now, I have pretty good night vision when I get used to it, and my ears aren’t half bad, so when I thought I heard furtive rustling and a play of shadows behind that curtain, I trusted those thoughts. “Something is moving in there,” I warned.
Bunny responded with a nod and waited for another few moments, leaning forward slightly as if trying to find that noise herself. After a few moments with no one opening the door. Bunny frowned and gingerly checked the doorknob.
It turned freely and slowly opened a hair by its own weight. No lock, no chain, and no deadbolt. Darkness and silence were all that we could see through that little crack.
I gripped my rune book tighter as I dug out my hammer from my bag. As they say, for every Dwarf, there is a hammer. It made me feel better just to have it in my hand. Bunny came to the same conclusion as I did and by the time I had turned back towards her, the curvy woman was replaced by seven feet of white, fluffy, red-eyed giant rabbit. I don’t know where she got her clothes made because, even for stretchy fabric like that, they never came apart under the stress of her change. Her boots, though, were gone and once more, I was deprived of the secret of where they went to.
One day.
Bunny glanced at me with those glowing red eyes, and I gave her a nod. Keeping a finger settled on the bookmark that contained the runeword for light (my very first real one), I followed her lead as she pushed the door open the rest of the way with one massive, floofy paw.
From what I could see in the darkness, what lay beyond looked like the hallway of any well-kept suburban household. There was a small side table with framed pictures a few steps away, an open doorway to the left and closed sliding doors to the right. Ahead, well, it was dark, but it looked to open up to a large room, maybe the dining room, with stairs barely visible in the gloom. The sole Figment presence I could feel was closer, but that didn’t help much in figuring where it might be or if it was even something to worry about.
Nothing greeted us. Silence reigned … well, relative silence. The distant echo of scattered traffic, the clinking of a wind chime in somebody’s backyard, and the faint creaks of the house settling were all amplified in that weird way little noises did when you were anxious.
Bunny took a few soft steps forward, her fluffy paws barely making a sound. My own heavy-soled boots sounded like jackhammers in comparison. When her head whipped back to look at me, ears flopping around cutely, I expected a hard, red stare at being such a clod. Instead, she pointed a paw-finger at my notebook
.
“A little light,” she whispered. “Just enough to see by.”
Well, now I knew that Lapin Garou didn’t have magic bunny nightvision. I guess a lifetime of horror movies enforces certain misconceptions. I nodded, flipping open my notebook to the place my finger was holding. There, in runes that faintly glowed with the fire of molten metal, was a selection of ‘day-to-day’ runewords, little bits of utility magic that anyone would find useful. Among them was my cherished first runeword, a simple thing that contained the essence of soft light, the warm afternoon sun, and lazy days lounging in sunbeams.
That might sound awfully specific for a word, but Dwarven runes were pictograms that imparted meaning beyond the literal definition. On top of that, rune magic was bound by the four core principles of magic like any other, and one of those was intent. In this case, runewords had their purpose imparted as they were written, combining language and thought into a powerful if somewhat inflexible spell. Hence, when I willed the runeword to life, the red-gold glow expanded as the chill of magical energy flowed through me and into it.
I had spent a good bit of time practicing so as I held the book forward, I kept the light to a focused, runeword-shaped flashlight, soft, warm radiance illuminating the hallway ahead. The walls were a nice, clean white, recently painted if I knew anything, with hardwood floors scratched up as if by many small claws. The pictures resolved into what looked more like a dog lover’s shrine than anything a typical family would post. Each image showed off Corgis, lots of them, and not all the same ones. I considered asking a stupid, obvious question but before I could decide not to, something else became crystal clear in the light.
At the far end of the hall, still only dimly illuminated, were eyes, animal eyes. A half-dozen or more pairs of them shone, reflecting a harsh emerald green glare at us, all low to the ground. As if on cue, a chorus of low, fierce growls rumbled from behind those myriad stares, and I was sure I saw the sparkle of a hundred bone-white fangs.