Mist and Magic

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Yes.” She glanced at her partner in surprise. “Beluga. It’s illegal to harvest and import.”

  “The smugglers left their fishy booty on a rowboat back there.” I tilted my thumb over my shoulder; the fog hid the bodies. “And there’s a barge out past the breakwater.” Or there had been. My senses told me those other trolls, and presumably the barge they came on, were moving off now. “I stumbled onto a troll and an ogre bringing the caviar in.” I showed her the tin. “But I’m actually looking for a friend, Michael Kwon. We may need to file a missing-persons report. His sister is out on his boat.”

  The officer started to tell me that they could help once they were done, but a call for backup came in over their radio. They jumped into their car and raced over to where the others had parked, lights still flashing.

  They hadn’t taken the tin from me. What was I supposed to do with illegal fish eggs?

  The trolls on the barge sailed out of range of my senses. I hoped I wasn’t wrong about Michael’s involvement in this and that he wasn’t a prisoner on that barge, because I doubted the police would ever find it.

  “Shit,” I said as disappointment settled over me like a cloak.

  Because my work was so dangerous, I avoided making new friends, and after years of ignoring old friends, I didn’t have that many of them either. I didn’t want to lose one of the few I had left.

  I sensed a magical being approaching before the plaintive “merow” sounded. The cub padded toward me, still glowing a faint silver.

  “Did Julie let you out, or are you an escape artist?”

  She issued another sad sound.

  It was probably a crime that came with a fine and up to ten years in jail, but I was feeling peevish, so I set the caviar tin down on the ground for the cub. I had no idea if she was old enough for solid foods or was missing her mother’s milk. Did silver tigers from other worlds drink mother’s milk?

  The cub came forward and sniffed the tin, but she only sat in front of it and looked up at me with sad green eyes.

  “That’s my opinion of it too,” I said, though it worried me that she wouldn’t eat. Had she drunk any of the water in the boat? I hadn’t seen her do so. “Hard to believe people would pay for it, much less risk their lives smuggling it.”

  The cub stood up and stuck her paw in the tin, then lifted it out, sniffed it, and shook it off. Some splattered my jeans.

  “Thanks. I always wanted to carry around a thousand dollars in fish eggs on my pants.”

  Julie walked cautiously off the other dock as she glanced toward the police cars. She spotted me and ran over.

  “How’d he get out?” She pointed at the cub.

  “It’s a she, and that was going to be my question for you.”

  “I don’t know. You shut the door and he—she—was inside. I’m sure of it. I called my parents to let them know we hadn’t found Michael, and when I turned around, the door was open and she was gone.” Julie stared down at the cub. “Tigers can’t open doors, right?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe magical tigers can.”

  “What are you going to do with her? You can’t take a tiger to the Humane Society.”

  “What am I going to do with her?” The cub swatted more caviar out of the tin. I was on the verge of pointing out that Michael was Julie’s brother and that her family had a house with a yard—the landlord of my one-bedroom apartment didn’t even allow dogs—but what did the Kwons know about taking care of magical animals? Michael’s parents ran an office-supply store. “Take her with me, I guess.”

  “With you, where? Are you going to find Michael?”

  “I have to.” I didn’t admit that Michael was not only one of my few friends but still the person I trusted the most—Julie would probably call that pathetic. I pulled the two notes out of my pocket. “As to where I’m going, first thing in the morning, I’m going to find someone who can translate these notes.”

  And I would cross my fingers that the foreign scribblings held the secret to where Michael had been taken and weren’t simply an ogre’s grocery list.

  4

  Early the next morning, as I pulled up to the government building that held the offices for the army unit Colonel Hobbs commanded, I debated between taking the cub in with me or leaving her in the Jeep. In the scant hours I’d been home the night before, she’d shredded the end of my couch, destroyed my canvas grocery totes, torn the frame off the bathroom door, and left fang marks in three pairs of my boots. She was currently nibbling on the passenger-side seatbelt.

  Since the Jeep was new and I’d barely started paying off the loan, I was disinclined to leave her loose inside. Besides, Colonel Hobbs or one of his people might know what world she came from and who could take care of her.

  “Let’s go for a walk, kid.” I grabbed a backpack I’d selected for cat-carrying purposes and went around to the passenger-side door. The night before, I’d modified the opening so it was large enough for her head to stick out, and I’d lined the interior with the burlap sack that had been in Michael’s boat. I opened the door, using my body to block it, and held the bag sideways so she could climb in. “Any chance you’ll hop in here and we don’t have to play games?”

  She didn’t try to spring past me and out of the car, but she did hold up a paw, her little brown claws on display.

  “Is that a threat? Because I can take you to the dog groomer and have them trim those to nubs.”

  So far, she hadn’t lashed out at me, but I remembered Julie’s bloody chin and knew even domesticated cats could shred people’s hands to avoid being stuffed into cat carriers.

  The cub flopped onto her back, the pale silver fur of her belly exposed.

  “I’m not sure if that means you give up or you want a belly rub. If you were my mom’s golden retriever, I’d be positive it was the latter.”

  “Merow.”

  “That explains much, thanks.”

  A little wary, since all of those claw-filled paws were in the air now, I stroked the soft fur of her belly. She didn’t object. The tail, which, like her feet, was too large for the current size of her body, spilled over the edge of the seat. After a few more strokes, I lifted the tail and scooted it and the rest of her body into the backpack. She allowed me to do it but promptly started nibbling on the edge.

  “Just don’t eat the bottom open while you’re inside. From what I remember of this building, the floors are tile. Not cushy if you fall onto your butt on them.”

  “Merow.”

  “It’s your call.”

  As I hefted the load onto my back and headed for the unmarked door to the army offices, it occurred to me that I’d become one of those people who had conversations with their pets. Too bad the cub didn’t speak back in a language I could translate—out of curiosity, I’d already tried activating my charm—because I had a feeling she had seen what happened to Michael. And obviously, she had seen how she’d come to be on his boat in the first place.

  “Need to find a telepath,” I muttered.

  If I couldn’t get the notes translated, that would be my next step. A lot of the magical races had telepathic talents, though elves were the only ones I knew for certain could communicate with animals. Unfortunately, the elves and dwarves that had once had encampments on Earth had all left our world for reasons unknown shortly before I’d been born. According to my mother, my father had been among them, and he’d never returned. The odds of me meeting him or any other elf were low.

  Since this army unit didn’t officially exist, there wasn’t an MP or any kind of guard to check my ID and decide if I was worthy enough to enter. That was good because I didn’t have an appointment. It had been too late the night before to call, and it was probably still too early to do so.

  At the first intersection, I hung a right and headed to Hobbs’s office. When I’d worked with him in the past, I’d always found him in the building by seven or eight, so I anticipated him being there now. He had an outer office with an assistant I’d have to get pa
st, but if it was the same lieutenant that had worked there before, he thought my boobs were pretty amazing and always passed me through after flirting with me.

  But the outer office was empty when I reached it, the desk where the lieutenant had worked devoid of files or even a phone. Maybe Hobbs had gotten rid of his assistant.

  I passed through and knocked on the metal frame of the door to his office. It was ajar, and I heard someone typing inside.

  “What?” a woman inside asked.

  Maybe Hobbs wasn’t in yet after all or was doing something in another part of the building. If he’d gotten a new female assistant, she might be less interested in my boobs—and less likely to let me see her boss without an appointment.

  “It’s Val Thorvald. I’m looking for Hobbs.” I pushed the door open.

  A brown-skinned woman with hard eyes and short, wiry salt-and-pepper hair glared at me from behind a computer at the desk. She had a stocky build, a strong jaw, and a dyspeptic expression that immediately reminded me of the drill sergeant I’d had in Basic Training who’d called me Barbie and tormented me at every opportunity.

  “Colonel Hobbs PCSed to Fort Bragg three months ago.” Ugh, she even had the same Southern accent as my former drill-sergeant tormenter. “I trust there’s no need to ask if you have an appointment.”

  “No, but I used to do work for him, and I was hoping for a favor.”

  “What kind of work?” She eyed my boots, jeans, and duster with the same disdain as Julie had. She didn’t have any magical blood, so she didn’t see my weapons, but her gaze snagged on the backpack. “And what is that?”

  “I was hoping someone here would know, but I’m calling her a magical tiger for now.” I turned so the cub’s head was visible sticking out of the pack. In the bright office lighting, her silver glow was less noticeable, but her coloring alone ought to prove she was something unique. “I also need some notes translated.”

  “By all means.” The woman—the name tag sewn on her chest said WILLARD, and her collar tabs denoted her a colonel in Military Intelligence—gestured expansively. “Come in, come in. We love to do research work for civilians who walk in off the street unannounced. And maybe I could get you some coffee while you’re here. Cream? Sugar?” Her eyes narrowed. “Lumps?”

  “I don’t drink coffee.” And I suspected she meant lumps on my head, delivered by a baseball bat, not lumps of sugar.

  “I knew you were a heathen as soon as you walked in.”

  “Uh.” Was that a joke? There was no humor in her eyes, nor did the corners of her mouth quirk upward. “I like sparkling water.”

  “How fabulous for you. What did you say your name was? Thorvald? Why does that sound familiar?” She turned to the computer, clicked the mouse a few times, and typed something in. Ignoring me utterly, she leaned back in her chair and started reading.

  I had a feeling she was reading my military record and whatever notes Hobbs had left about me. It was also possible she wanted to know who was ranting about what political thing today on Facebook, but I doubted it.

  Nibbling sounds came from behind my ear, and the cub shifted against my back. Getting into a better position to demolish the backpack, I imagined.

  The phone rang.

  “This is Colonel Willard,” she answered.

  A man on the other end spoke for quite a while. My hearing was better than average, but the nibbling sounds in my ear kept me from catching everything. I did pick out Russian, trolls, smugglers, and caviar. And finally, Thorvald.

  “Funny,” Willard said, eyeing me with open suspicion. “She just strolled into my office.”

  Something about her glare made me feel like I was in trouble. I shouldn’t be. I’d stuck around the night before to tell the police what had happened, and they’d politely taken Julie’s information on her missing brother. Since I had, however inadvertently, busted up what had been a handoff between smugglers and buyers, they hadn’t been inclined to give me grief. As I’d suspected, none of them had been broken up over the deaths of the ogre and troll. Other ogres and trolls might learn that I had been responsible and take action against me, but the local law shouldn’t.

  “I’ll have my people do some research and let you know what I can find out.” Willard hung up, leaned back in her chair again, folded her arms over her chest, and stared at me. “Valmeyjar Thorvald, freelance assassin.”

  “Colonel Willard, occupier of Hobbs’s desk.”

  I felt a little betrayed that Hobbs hadn’t let me know he was leaving. We hadn’t been close, but I’d done dozens of jobs for him in the years he’d been stationed here, and the army pay had allowed me to comfortably cover my bills and my apartment in Ballard. As in the rest of the Seattle area, the rent was a fortune, something I’d noticed even more since I hadn’t had any of those army contracts lately.

  “According to the police, you took it into your own hands to kill a troll and an ogre smuggler last night.”

  “I defended myself when they attacked me.”

  “You defended yourself with deadly force.”

  “It’s a funny thing, but harmless force doesn’t work real well on ogres.” The smart part of my brain suggested that I shouldn’t irk Willard, since she was potentially a source of work, but I didn’t always listen to it. Besides, I had a feeling she’d already made her mind up about me and that ass-kissing wouldn’t work. “Hobbs knew that. He used to hire me to handle things your mundane human agents couldn’t.”

  “My mundane human agents are capable of handling a great deal.”

  “I’m strong, agile, quick, and I heal fast. I also have a giant magical sword that can cleave the balls off an irate ogre.”

  “Is that what you went to the docks to do last night?”

  “Not until I found out that ogres were involved in my friend going missing. Any chance you have information on Michael Kwon?”

  “No.” Her mulish expression suggested she would never have information of any kind for me.

  Damn it. I could do research on my own, but she had a whole staff of intelligence agents at her fingertips.

  “He used to be in the army, and now he’s missing.” I tried to keep my tone reasonable. “The army’s supposed to look after its own. Even if you don’t want to help me, won’t you help him? All I’m asking for is information you might hear about his disappearance. And to see if someone here can translate these notes.”

  I drew them from my pocket, opened them, and laid them on her desk. Maybe if she saw them, she would be intrigued.

  Willard glanced at them and typed into her computer again. Michael’s name.

  “It’s Korean,” I said and spelled out, “K-W-O-N,” to make sure she got it right.

  “Thanks so much. I would have guessed it was the Ethiopian spelling.”

  “I’m here to help.”

  “Is that what you told the ogres when you arrived?”

  “No.” I clenched my jaw to keep from saying anything else, but I was one more snarky comment away from grabbing the notes and walking out. I didn’t need this crap. Maybe Nin, the woman who’d crafted Fezzik, knew someone who could translate these languages.

  “How long has Kwon been missing?” Willard grabbed the notes and walked out of the office.

  I almost lunged after her to get them back, but the cub tugged on my braid with her teeth and distracted me.

  “Not a toy,” I grumbled, pulling it over my shoulder.

  Fortunately, Willard was only going to a photocopier. She made copies of the notes and walked back into her office, pausing to look more closely at the cub.

  “Not long,” I said. “But there was a dead ogre on the dock, outside of his boat, and this little tiger inside. Since one of those smugglers was also an ogre, I thought they might be responsible.” I still thought they might have been responsible.

  “Do you always make assumptions based on race?”

  “They’re a species, not a race, and I make suspicions based on their proximity to the crime scene.
” I snatched the originals from her grip, annoyed at her insinuation, and annoyed that I wasn’t making sense. Make suspicions? What did that even mean?

  If I was honest with myself, I would agree that the previous night had not gone according to plan, and I could see why Willard would judge me for killing smugglers. Usually, when I took on jobs, it was to assassinate proven killers, magical beings who were not only hiding on Earth but preying on humans. Preying on beluga sturgeon didn’t typically merit an assassination.

  But I didn’t want to be honest. I wanted to get out of here and find Michael.

  “If you change your mind and want to be helpful, I’m sure Hobbs had my number.” I headed for the door.

  “Does that cat get any bigger?”

  I paused. She was still looking at the cub, who was now swatting the back of my head with a paw, thankfully a paw with claws retracted.

  “Bigger?”

  “You said it’s magical, right?”

  “Yeah, I zap her with my sword, invoke the power of Grayskull, and she turns into a battle cat.”

  Willard snorted. “There are magical beings who can shift forms. Surely, you’ve encountered werewolves.”

  “Yes, but they don’t go from mini wolves to giant wolves.” I frowned at her. “Why do you ask?”

  “There have been maulings up in Bellingham that have left three people dead. Six others have disappeared. I sent an agent up to investigate last week, and he stopped communicating with me two days ago.” Willard tilted her head, still focused on the cub instead of me. “Nobody has seen the culprit, but the dead looked to have been killed by the claws of a giant feline.”

  If she’d been Hobbs and I hadn’t been on my own mission, I would have offered to go up and find out what was going on. That was the kind of thing he’d paid me to do. But unless it was somehow tied in with this cub and Michael, I wasn’t interested. Besides, it was obvious Willard would gnaw off her favorite limb before hiring me.

  “This is the ogre language.” Willard held up the note I’d taken out of the ogre’s pocket.

  “I know. I just can’t read it.”