I trusted that he had been contacted by the traffickers. But that had been the extent of his honesty. The kids were out there, and he had given me false intel. Why? Those stupid rules he and Rafe kept speaking of? That omnipresent Involition they both seemed to fear?

  I needed to do some research. Nothing like a sleepless night surfing the dregs of the internet to get you through a dead-end case.

  I stood up. Gio relaxed slightly.

  But I couldn't leave without one more attempt to salvage this night.

  "Is there anything else you can tell me about the traffickers?" I asked. Surely that was a safe subject, even if he did put me onto a false trail earlier.

  The traffickers weren't the Involition.

  Or were they?

  "I have said all I can, cara." He looked genuinely sorry about that. "Take care, Catalin. You are playing by her rules now."

  "Whose rules?" Was The Involition a female; a person and not a thing?

  Gio simply lumbered to his feet and walked out to the kitchen, leaving me alone in the bar. I considered following him; demanding more answers. But I suspected I had done enough damage. I hesitated, trying to listen for the sound of him moving out there. But an oppressive weight had fallen on the dive, silence that was thick and somehow corporeal.

  I hightailed it out of Giordano's and scrambled across the laneway to my car, throwing myself inside it and locking the doors behind me. My pulse beat a little too loudly in my ears, my respirations were slightly elevated. I forced myself to calm down.

  And then the lights went off in Gio's restaurant, sending everything into a darkness so thick it was threatening.

  If Gio was one of them — and I was guessing he was at this stage of the shit-show that was now my life — he could look after himself.

  Shit. Werewolves to the right of me, vampires to the left. And me, a supposed witch, slap bang in the middle of them.

  As I made my way home, I went over what Gio had told me. More than Rafe had, but still not nearly enough, I was certain.

  The Involition was the top dog; the rulers or council or something. They set the rules and there were a lot of them. Rafe had a tattoo that moved. Gio had one he could hide. And that werewolf dude, the — what had Rafe called him? — the warrior-last-resort, had tattoos too. I was pretty sure that meant something.

  I hadn't seen those gipsy bracelets on Gio or the werewolf, though. Did that mean anything? Or did Rafe just have a bad fashion sense?

  Gio was a spy. Rafe was a watchman. And the werewolf was a warrior. They all had roles in this Involition, I thought. But according to Gio, the witches — that'd be my kind — did not do that type of work.

  Werewolves. Vampires. Witches. And of those that I had met, both vampire and werewolf kowtowed to the Involition.

  Your kind do not do this type of work.

  Son of a gun, the witches were in charge. I'd bet my ass that they were in charge of this Involition thing. And the 'she' Gio referred to – the one whose rules we played by — was a witch.

  It was a fucking woman who was after me. So much for sisterhood.

  I pulled up to my apartment, did a double check of my surroundings, and then shot up the steps and in through the building's front door. In moments I was behind a locked door, the lights all on in my bedsit; even the wardrobe and bathroom checked for hidden threats.

  I sank down on my couch and stared at nothing for a long while.

  I should have slept, but that wasn't going to happen in a hurry. So I fired up my laptop. While that did its thing, I forced myself to grab a sandwich and a glass of water, and then I returned to do some surfing.

  I'd made progress on the whole mystical world I didn't know existed until this evening thing, but the kids still needed to be found. I'd start with Tac's list, including those I'd handed off to Harlee and Brant.

  Thinking of Harlee had me thinking of Rafe's threat. Everyone I worked with was in danger of being killed by the warrior werewolf. According to Rafe anyway, but I couldn't take anything that dick said as gospel.

  Maybe I shouldn't call him a dick in my head because my exhausted mind decided to take a trip down the X-rated speedway and think about parts of his anatomy I really shouldn't have been imagining.

  I closed my eyes in exasperation and tipped back my head, letting my body mould to the couch beneath and behind me; trying to clear my head.

  Before I knew it, my cell phone alarm was going off. Either I had been affected by that sleep spell or my body had just had enough of being upright. Because I found myself curled up on the couch; the throw I kept along the back of it, covering my body.

  I had no recollection of falling asleep. The last thing I'd been thinking about was Rafe and his, well, you know what. I'd been frustrated at myself, not sleepy. And I sure as shit didn't remember reaching for the throw and pulling it over me.

  I lay there for a moment, the alarm getting louder and louder.

  Nope. Not buying it.

  "Fucker," I muttered and silenced the phone finally. I'd watched Twilight. I knew what pervy vampires did while the heroine slept. "Fuck!" I screamed at nobody and got up to have a cleansing shower.

  The throw was a nice touch; really screwed with my mind that did. But also, and here's where it got creepy, let me know he'd been there at all. Otherwise, I would have been none-the-wiser. Fatigue would have been blamed for making me fall asleep, not some magia a vampire might use to compel his victims.

  I touched my neck, but there were no marks or bruising.

  So much for needing an invitation to enter a person's home, I thought sourly as I dressed.

  There were rules. That's what both Gio and Rafe had said. I needed to know what the rules were. But how to find out?

  I stared at the laptop on the coffee table as I walked past on my way out of the apartment. It had switched itself off. Or the pervy vampire had. I didn't have time to search up 'Involition Rules' on the Net. I didn't have time to swing by Gio's and demand a few more answers.

  I had to get to Banana House and report in. Harry would expect a debrief.

  I exited the apartment building and did a quick scan of the environment, but nothing stood out. My fingers didn't tingle either, so that was good. It was strange to acknowledge their usefulness now. Like all of a sudden what my fingers did was legitimate. It's not like I didn't pay attention to them before, but now they had meaning; a name. Magia. Witch.

  Your kind do not do this type of work.

  I had a kind. My fingers tingling had a name. My mobster snitch was either a witch or a werewolf, and The Involition ruled everybody.

  Some night, huh?

  I made it to Goldie's Brae without incident, noting a nondescript rental car parked in the driveway, along with a Range Rover, an MX-5, and a ten-speed. Dean and Kai must still be looking into the suspected landing site of the container.

  The door stuck when I entered. Voices could be heard from the kitchen, but I turned toward Tac's and my office instead.

  Only to come face to face with a disgruntled-looking Deputy Director.

  "Harry," I greeted warily.

  "My office. Now," he said.

  Something told me — and it wasn't my magical fingers — that I was about to get a reaming.

  Fuck my life. I mean, really. Fuck it.

  Cat

  Harry's room smelled of boiled cabbage. None of us knew if that was just a Harry smell or something to do with the leaking roof. Considering he owned shares in Old Spice, my money was on the roof. There was a bay window letting in muted light through grubby glass, a wall of bookshelves laden with unread books – in alphabetical order, of course — a fireplace that was never used, a big oak desk covered in files — all neatly stacked in perfectly aligned piles — and six well-sharpened pencils in a straight line beside a clean coffee cup. There was an old sofa lying against one wall where he slept during the day when he thought we were all out doing work; the blanket folded to military precision, laying across the back.

  It must have done his head in leaving the windows dirty. But hiding in plain sight was a soggy banana's secret weapon.

  I sighed internally as he walked around his desk and took a seat. The chair creaked as he leaned back; stretching his legs out and lifting his hands to cup the back of his head, he stared up at me as if relaxed. Harry was never relaxed, but he liked to pretend he was when he wanted to chat.

  I didn't feel any better about the prospect of 'chatting' than being reamed out for some perceived fuck-up.

  "So, the May Tree," he said, lobbing the first salvo at my head. "Heard you lost your shit, Aguirre. In front of the Feds."

  I said nothing. He hadn't asked a question, so I refused to incriminate myself.

  "Don't be mad at Harlee," he added, confirming who it was who had spilt the goods. "She's worried about you. Thinks you're working too hard or something. Are you working too hard, Cat?"

  A question this time, but he didn't really want an answer. He wanted to lure me into a false sense of safety and then smash me over the head with the facts of life according to Harry Markham.

  "What exactly did you accuse Special Agent Nonpareil of again?" he pressed.

  "That their rental outside?" I threw back.

  "Well, it's not the bloody Queen's, is it?"

  "Did Special Agent Nonpareil make a complaint?" I asked, ignoring his efforts to rile me. "Maybe Special Agent Adams said something?" I added. "No?" I shrugged. "Then there's nothing to talk about."

  Harry studied me for a long moment.

  "Dean and Kai are due back any minute," he finally said, seemingly changing the subject.

  I didn't relax. Harry could go off on tangents and then suddenly whip back on track in the blink of an eye.

  "Did they find anything?" I asked, playing along, but not lowering my guard just yet.

  "Confirmed the landing location and that the unsubs are headed toward us, and not up north. As far as they can tell, the traffickers are gracing the capital with their presence. Kind of them, isn't it? Which means, we've got a decent chance of solving this case before they decide to move out."

  "Their escape paths are limited," I pointed out. "There's no way to get their cargo off via air. Too many kids and they won't be able to offload most of them if any. That leaves another ship as their only means of transport. I presume Tac's covering that?"

  "As best he can when we're an island nation of over 260,000 square kilometres." He dropped his arms from the back of his head and leaned forward. "Do you want me to assign Dean and Kai to the Feds?"

  I stared at the familiar sharp-eyed face of my deputy director, momentarily touched by his offer. Harry put on a good act, but if you messed with one of his agents, he — reluctantly and making a loud noise about it — backed them up. I just hadn't seen this lifeline coming.

  But there was also no way I would let Dean or Kai anywhere near Nonpareil. He was my problem to deal with. Besides, I doubted handing the agents off to the boys would make a blind bit of difference.

  Rafe was my watchman and no other's.

  "Not necessary," I said. I hated doing it, but she had it coming. "Harlee was tipsy last night. She doesn't know what she's talking about."

  Harry said nothing for a moment and then leaned back in his chair again.

  "You know, Cat, it wouldn't hurt you to let your colleagues in, once in a while; not try to do everything on your own. We're a team. An eccentric one, but a team, nonetheless. Their stigma is your stigma, and vice versa. You should know by now, that Goldie's Brae is a one-way ticket. You're not gonna miraculously change the Director's mind, so give it up already and come play for real with the monkeys."

  I stared at my boss; my hands wanting to curl into fists, and my lip wanting to lift into a snarl. I kept all of that off my face and out of my body language and just shrugged.

  "Girl's gotta try, Harry," I said. "This place sucks."

  "You're not wrong there, Chief Operative," he said, then looked directly at me. "We're representing the entire NCB right now, so play nice with the good G-men, please."

  He turned his attention to the monstrosity that was his desk; straightening his already perfectly straight line of pencils. I'd been dismissed. I didn't hang around for him to change his mind.

  Tac was in our office, but he was alone. He spun around in his chair as I entered and watched me strip off my jacket, hang it on the back of the chair, and sit down.

  "They're in the kitchen with Harlee," he said.

  I grunted.

  "There's coffee."

  I powered up my computer.

  "He's not wrong."

  My eyes met his. "You eavesdropped, Tac? Not cool."

  He didn't look the least bit guilty. "It's my job, Cat."

  "Your job is to provide overwatch, act as a liaison between us and the World Wide Web, and give us a snowball's chance of stopping the bad guys before they do some damage. It's not to eavesdrop on your work colleagues and the boss."

  "If I don't know what's going on here, I can't help you to the best of my abilities out there."

  "And how does knowing Harlee ratted me out to Harry going to help you do that?"

  "She was worried. Said you weren't acting yourself. Everyone knows you're a badass, Cat. Dean's scared of you. Kai's jealous of you. And Harlee just wants to be you. When you do something like accuse a visiting FBI agent of being an imposter, then we all want to know what it is you know that we don't."

  "You included, huh?" I felt strangely warmed by his description of my co-workers. I hadn't realised they thought of me like that.

  "Oh, I know he's an imposter," he said.

  My head snapped up and I glared at him.

  "His ID pans out," he continued, "but if you dig a bit deeper into the FBI's online presence, you'll see he doesn't appear in any of their photos. Brant does. Multiple times, in fact. Sometimes in a group of people, sometimes with a guy who is not Special Agent Nonpareil."

  "You checked their Facebook page out or something?" I was stunned and just filling in the silence with words. Not like me at all, but Tac was worrying me with all of this.

  "Their employees are not allowed social media profiles," he pointed out, "but that doesn't mean you can't find them online. They have families."

  "So, you didn't hack their computers?" Please say you didn't hack their computers, Tac.

  "Of course not. They have a website."

  "Uh-huh."

  "The point is, Cat, I believe you. He's an imposter."

  "Who's an imposter?" a southern-accented voice asked.

  I looked toward the door and met Special Agent Brant Adam's eyes.

  Tac said nothing and turned to his computer, pulling his headphones up over his ears and shutting us out. For all intents and purposes anyway.

  "You guys rented a car," I said, not answering the agent's question. "Planning on driving yourselves around?"

  "There might could be a need for it," Brant said, moving into the office and allowing Nonpareil to enter behind him. Had the vampire heard Tac too? "Saves y'all pickin' us up and droppin' us off all the time."

  I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at Raphael. The creeper had been in my apartment last night. Had made me fall asleep, I was sure.

  He met my gaze with a neutral expression, then took a slow sip of his coffee as if he had not a care in the world. He should be worried. I was spitting mad.

  Harlee poked her head in the office door just then. She took one look at the thunderous expression on my face and then backed out and rushed off to her own office.

  "I saw you, Harlee!" I called out.

  "No, you didn't!"

  "Are you saying I'm imagining things, Senior Operative?"

  She made a squeaking sound and slammed her door.

  "Y'all are 'bout half a bubble off plumb," Brant drawled. "I like it!"

  I let out a sigh and uncrossed my arms.

  "We've got more places to check," I said, bringing up the list on my cell phone. I would solve this case and boot Raphael Nonpareil out of my life or so help me.

  Hopefully, the werewolf would follow him.

  I briefly thought of everything Gio had told me last night and knew sticking my head in the sand was not wise. This wasn't going to go away just because I willed it to. And saving the kids might be my job and a noble cause and all, but it wouldn't erase what I now knew about the world.

  My life had changed and I was having just a little bit of trouble keeping up.

  "Tac, get Harlee back in here, please," I said. "We need to coordinate."

  A few moments later, Harlee dragged herself into our office. Her eyes flicked over the Feds and Tac and then landed on my shoulder. She wouldn't meet my gaze.

  "Are you mad at me?" she asked.

  How unprofessional must we have looked to Brant? Rafe wouldn't have cared less how we acted. He was here to watch me for The Involition and nothing else. I thought about that. Because they suspected I wielded magic? He knew I did — he called me sorgina — so why was he still here, then?

  I needed to spend some quality time with the vampire and find out.

  "Water under the bridge," I told Harlee. "I think we need to stay in contact better," I announced. "Tac, I want full overwatch while we're out there."

  "You got it, Cat." As if he wasn't going to do it anyway. Rafe had piqued his curiosity. Tac would spend half his time watching us, and the other half investigating Raphael Nonpareil on the internet.

  Maybe I should warn him off? He couldn't combat a werewolf or a vampire. And I had no idea what the witches could do. Tac was playing with fire and he didn't even know he was.

  My stomach roiled with unease, but this wasn't my magia flaring; it was pure terror at what could happen to my co-worker. Tac was unfit for wetwork. And Goldie's Brae was not as safe as it could be. You couldn't see Banana House from the road, and our closest neighbour was behind a copse of trees an acre away. If something happened here, no one would know about it until the Director decided to pay us a visit because he hadn't heard hide nor hair from Harry for a week.

  God, I felt ill at the thought. We needed to know what we were up against and I needed to warn Tac at the very least.