“I hope not.”
The images on the screen pass by at double speed, starting half an hour before midnight. I cringe as one of the feeds captures me stumbling through the crowd on my way to the door. My footsteps are uneven, my shoulders slump, and I am clearly belligerent.
“No more investigating on your own,” Zoe snaps. “I can’t believe you. Even when I was at my lowest, I never—never—drank on the job, and I don’t care what time it was. You were clearly on the job.”
“No one knows my faults better than me. I do not need you to remind me of them at every turn.” My anger is so bright and hot, I almost miss the glimpse of long, black hair against deathly pale skin. Or the flash of orange in her eyes. “There. That is Regina.” Jabbing the keyboard, I slow the video to normal speed and rewind to play it a second time.
“Look at the girl next to her,” Zoe says, pointing to a small, frizzy-haired shifter. “I saw her on the video earlier. She’s been at the club for at least an hour, and she’s following Regina around like a little lost puppy dog.”
“Do not let any of the shifters hear you compare them to puppies.” That is the last thing we need.
“Pay attention.” Zoe grabs the mouse and starts zooming in on Regina and her target. The demon traces her finger down the shifter’s cheek, and the girl smiles, her eyes blank, and nods. “Dammit. I wish we had sound.”
“We do not need it. Regina is Fae, and with her particular power, she can cast a charm with an effect similar to Rohypnal using only her words. There is no fighting it. Not even the strongest mind can break free. Her victim will be compliant, dazed, and do whatever Regina asks. When the charm wears off, she will likely remember nothing.”
“Shit.”
I can feel Zoe’s horror, but it is nothing compared to my own. For Regina’s charms did not work as well on me as she’d thought. I was too strong, and though I could not fight her, I was often semi-aware of what she was making me do. The longer we spend working this case, the more I remember how she prepared me for Thorn's torture. And how he stole everything I was, slowly, painfully, until I finally broke completely.
We watch together as the shifter follows Regina out the club’s front door without saying a word, passing within ten feet of me. I’d fallen, facing away from them. Minutes later, I believe I vomited in the gutter. Had I been sober, I would have found her, and perhaps, the pretty young shifter with the frizzy hair and bright, blue eyes would still be free today.
Zoe
Back at Bureau headquarters, we stand in front of Commander Eve, Sin staring straight ahead, focused on something over her shoulder as he recounts his drunken night and how close he was to Regina.
Halfway through Eve’s tirade dressing down for his stupidity, I clear my throat. “Commander?”
“Yes, Agent Dawes? Please do not tell me you condone this behavior.” Her pupils are pinpricks of onyx, and she’s angry enough, her fingernails take on a decidedly talon-like appearance, but her voice is still calm—too calm, in fact—that scary type of calm that warns how close to the edge she is.
“No, Commander. Of course not. But I’ve had my share. You were watching me after Temple’s death. You know I didn’t handle that particularly...well.”
Sin may have been an idiot, but every person—or demon—on the planet has made mistakes. Some of them legion. The longer she takes to rip him a new one, the more time we lose. The shifter’s been gone for almost twelve hours now, and we still don’t know her name.
Eve jerks out of her chair and marches over to Sin. The tall, blond eagle shifter jams her hands onto her hips and stares up at him. “You had better get your head on straight, Sinclair. Regina doesn’t get to use my city as her new hunting grounds, and Thorn is not going to leave San Francisco alive. Understand?”
He nods, still not meeting her gaze.
“Get out of here. Both of you,” she snaps.
Gathering the photos we’d printed from the security feeds, I tuck them into my bag as I follow Sin to our desks. “Give me the best picture we have,” he says as he logs in to his computer. “I will show you how to release an official APB for a person of interest.”
With my chair next to his, I watch him go through the various steps. There’s a heaviness to his movements, a resignation, an exhaustion, like every key weighs ten pounds. I can’t help staring at Regina’s photo. Her frame is almost skeletal, and something about her orange eyes leaves a vague sense of dread in the pit of my stomach.
“Take over,” Sin mutters as he pushes up and starts to pace in a circle around our desks. “After her description, add the following: Suspect is extremely dangerous, and can compel anyone with her voice. If seen, do not approach without ear protection. She has millennia of experience hiding in the shadows and blending in, and should be considered one of the most dangerous criminals the Bureau has ever sought. Contact Agents Sinclair and Dawes with any potential sightings immediately.”
“Damn, Sin. Isn’t that a little...overkill?” I shut my mouth when I see the look on his face. Nope. Apparently it’s not. I save Regina’s description and push back from his desk. “What do we use for facial recognition here?”
“The Global Habitant Optical Scanning and Tracking system,” he says, leaning over me to tap the touchscreen.
“What the hell kind of name is that?” As I focus on the icon, I realize why it sounds so...ridiculous. “Really? The GHOST system? At BOO. How do we expect anyone to take us seriously when we have acronyms like that?”
Sin arches a brow. “Agent Dawes, that is exactly the point. We do not want the general public knowing about us, and if they were ever to hear about the Bureau and our systems, the more ridiculous they think the names are, the better.”
“Why do we care? We have Mem-Clear. If we find someone who’s not ready to know about us, we can just—“
“No.” The word escapes on a snarl, and Sin slams his hand down on his desk, making the keyboard clatter and several other agents stare at us and whisper amongst themselves. “We do not deploy Mem-Clear like it is candy.”
Kunchin strides over, his massive, furry frame so tall, I have to crane my neck to see his face. “Everything okay here, Zoe?”
“Fine,” I say with a forced smile. “My partner’s got a giant stick up his ass, though.” Sin glares at me, but says nothing. “I don’t suppose you could show me how to use the GHOST system?”
“Sure.” The yeti gives my chair a gentle push and crouches down next to me. His large hands dwarf the keyboard, but he can type faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. “Just enter all known visual information here, then click source image and find the digital file you want to match.”
“That one.” I point to the one clear image we were able to gather off Loup Noir’s security feeds.
“Gotcha.” Kunchin selects the photo, and after it uploads, he points to the big red button at the bottom of the screen. “Go for it.”
I’m practically grinning as I click the Match button. It’s silly. I’ve done this same thing hundreds of times for the SFPD, but this feels...so much more important. Heavier. Like I’ve finally discovered my purpose in life.