#quoria

People always assumed that the first body a new constable encountered would be that of a murder victim. They were wrong. The first body was usually the result of an accident. Mabre had seen nine different bodies before she’d so much as caught a glimpse of her first murder victim, and Oliver had managed eleven. Today was his twelfth time seeing a body, as far as Mabre knew, and this one was definitely a murder.

Someone had pushed a student off of one of the many stone balconies that littered the university courtyard, and Mabre knew because she’d seen it. She and Oliver had been called to the scene because of a supposed scuffle in the courtyard, and had arrived just in time to hear a scream, look up, and…well, Mabre didn’t want to think too hard about what had happened next. Not with the student’s blood spattered across the front of her uniform. And the ground, and the tree the student had hit on his way down. 

Thankfully, Mabre took comfort in the routine that came with being present at the time of a murder. The forensics technicians had promptly arrived and set up a thick, plastic tent near the crime scene, ushering Mabre inside once everything was cordoned off and deemed secure. She carefully stripped out of her contaminated uniform and handed them off to the technician who had accompanied her, who immediately sealed the bloodied clothes away in neatly labelled forensics bags. Then came a towel (which she used to clean herself off with) and the silent condolences of every other constable that had been called to the scene. It was never fun being the one in the tent.

Mabre had been in the tent enough times now that she knew the routine by heart, but she hadn’t always. Her first time in the tent had nearly ended with a broken nose; she’d been shaking so badly that she’d tripped over her own two feet and fallen flat on her face while trying to pull on a spare pair of pants. She was hoping that Oliver would handle it better than she had, but she doubted that was going to be the case. They’d be lucky to get through the night without a trip to the station infirmary.

An old duffel bag was presented to Mabre, jarring her from her thoughts. The lab techs had recently taken to lugging around a bag of spare and lost clothes for situations like these, and Mabre happened to be granted the privilege of rummaging around in it. She wasn’t picky, and pulled out whatever would fit. It seemed tacky to wear a sweater emblazoned with the school emblem of the very university she had just witnessed a murder at, but it beat wearing the blood of one of the students.

Mabre looked very much like a student herself by the time she stepped out of the tent in the borrowed sweater, and a pair of slacks she’d chosen. She wasn’t even wearing shoes. There hadn’t been any that fit, and forensics had confiscated hers, along with the rest of her clothes. The grass was cold and tickled the bottom of her feet, and she couldn’t help but think it was a shame that she’d never see her old clothes again. It didn’t feel good, losing her uniform like that. It was a symbol of who she was and the morals she tried to uphold, not to mention that not wearing it set her apart from the other constables. She looked like a helpless victim, and she just hated that.

Oliver shuffled into the tent after her, and emerged in what felt like mere moments wearing entirely different outfit. The clothes were too big on him, and the shoes too small. Mabre knew him well enough to tell that much at a glance. 

Mabre reached over to straighten Oliver’s tweed jacket, which was so long that the worn out sleeves covered his hands. He looked dazed, almost glassy-eyed, and Mabre couldn’t help but wonder if she’d looked like that just a moment ago too. She hoped not. She was supposed to be the tough one here, and she couldn’t go setting a bad example for Oliver. Frowning, she shook Oliver gently by his lapels to get his attention.

“Something hot to drink and a good night's rest, and you’ll feel better,” she said, brusquely.

Oliver finally looked up at her, dangerously teary-eyed. He was trembling inside his jacket, like a turtle trying to hide inside its shell. “Mabre, that boy… he...”

“Ollie, it wasn’t our fault,” Mabre said sternly. She had to be firm with Oliver now, otherwise he was just going to blame himself for what had happened. She’d nearly blamed herself after witnessing her first murder victim too. She’d told herself that there was something she missed, something she could have done better, or faster - but no, murder didn’t work that way, and her pop had told her as much. This was no one’s fault, no one but the person who had pushed that student. 

The warm spray of blood from when the body had fallen onto the cobblestone path mere steps from her was burned into Mabre’s memory - and Oliver’s as well, she was sure. Time had felt too slow, and then too fast, and then as though she’d been standing there watching blood and gristle sink into the gaps between the cobblestones for weeks. Mabre couldn’t breathe, and then all of a sudden she’d been breathing too much, and everything smelled of iron and dirt, and - 

Mabre took a deep breath. Seeing someone die in front of her wasn’t the same as finding a body and trying to figure out who was responsible for it. There had been a life there, and then suddenly it had been extinguished. It made her feel small. 

“There was nothing we could have done.” Mabre said as she picked up where she’d left off. “The only thing we can do now is catch the person who did that to him. And we will. I promise you, we will.” 

Mabre sounded confident because that was what she needed to be. If she didn’t believe in solving this case, then there was no way that anyone else would. Justice was going to be done, whether anyone liked it or not.

An inordinately tall, brown man suddenly appeared with two cups of piping hot coffee, startling Mabre. He pushed a cup into her hand and then did the same for Oliver, looking pleased with himself when Oliver took a careful sip. Lalli’s hair was an ash-brown mess, sticking up at all angles like a bird had tried to make a nest in it. If she hadn’t been so focused on Oliver, Mabre would’ve seen him coming from anywhere in the courtyard. It struck her as odd that she hadn’t, and now that she thought about it, it was even odder that he was here at all.

“Who called you over? I doubt magic is involved in this,” Mabre demanded, craning her neck to look up at Lalli. 

Lalli shrugged. Mabre frowned, and glanced around for Teddy instead, taking in the courtyard for the first time since the murder. It was large and grassy, with thick trees around the perimeter and a cross-shaped cobblestone path that cut evenly through the center of it all. There were stone benches here and there, and a fountain in the middle. It would have been very pretty if not for all the blood, and the corpse in the midst of it.

And there was Teddy, talking to a few constables over near the (thankfully covered) body. He was never too far from Lalli, and acted as Lalli’s handler of sorts. Mabre was just about to call out to him when Oliver nudged her in the side with his elbow.

Mabre turned, and Lalli was gone. Instead, a much more familiar figure was approaching the two of them. Inspector Darcy Darling was tall and broad, with salt and pepper hair and the beginnings of circles under his eyes. He had thick scars that ran from his ear down to his neck before being hidden by his uniform, as if someone had tried to blow the ear right off his head. Given how little of his ear was left, they’d obviously succeed in some capacity. The most striking thing about Darcy, though, was his eyes; dark blue and intense, as if he were trying to take in all of the crime scene at once and memorize it.

“Hey, Pops,” Mabre said. If Darcy was here, then things were obviously more grim than she’d thought.

“Hello, Inspector Darling,” Oliver squeaked next to her, and Mabre patted his shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting way. Oliver had been her best friend ever since they’d first been partnered up, but he was still nervous around her pop. It was funny, in its own way.

“Hello Mabre, Oliver,” Darcy said, inclining his head to each of them in turn. “I’m here to pick you up. I’m sure Detective Ikeru will want your statements, but that can wait until morning, I think.” 

He stepped between Mabre and Oliver and placed a hand on each of their shoulders, steering them gently down the nearest path and towards the entrance to the university.

“Shouldn’t we talk to Teddy while our memories are fresh?” Mabre asked, frowning again, but allowing her pop to push her along regardless.

“Generally speaking, yes,” Darcy agreed. “But we have a more pressing issue to deal with first. Detective Ikeru will understand.”

Lalli had somehow gotten all the way back to the entrance, and was waving them off. Darcy smiled briefly at him, and continued pushing Mabre and Oliver along.

“What sort of issue?” Oliver asked, sounding defeated and tired. 

Mabre could relate. It had been a rough night, but she was more worried about Oliver than herself. He was gentle at heart, and she wasn’t sure how much more bad news he could take in a single night.

“There’s been an unexpected development in the Mirazykh case,” Darcy said simply.

“What sort of development?” Mabre asked at the same time Oliver said, “It wasn’t actually a murder, was it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean, not actually a murder?” Mabre said, frowning at Oliver.

“You know what I mean! The tailor didn’t premeditate it, and neither did that detective we found.” 

Mabre’s blood boiled at the mention of Colton. That idiot had gone and sent Oliver away after she’d specifically told Oliver to protect him, and then he’d almost died immediately after! And if that wasn’t enough, he’d gone and swallowed what was almost certainly a piece of evidence in the hospital - and then had the gall, the nerve to pass out before anyone could make him spit it up.

“That detective couldn’t premeditate his way out of a paper bag,” Mabre snapped. “And that tailor-”

“Sasha Mirazykh’s body is gone,” Darcy said, interrupting her.

“What?” Mabre asked, stunned and angry. “What do you mean gone?”

“Wasn’t it meant to be shipped off to Citarik tomorrow?” Oliver asked nervously.

“The body was locked in the forensics lab, but it isn’t there anymore.” Darcy said.

“But - but it couldn’t have gone anywhere! There’s no way into forensics unless you have a key, and that door locks automatically from the inside,” Oliver said, sounding increasingly anxious. He was tense, pulling his too-big jacket tighter around his shoulders.

“I don’t see how anyone could’ve snuck a body out even if they had gotten access to the room.” Mabre argued. The watch station was never empty, so surely someone would have seen something. “It’s not like he got up and walked out. The whole back of his head was smashed in!”

“Theoretically, you’re both correct, but the body is gone. We don’t know who took it or how it was done, but it’s not there anymore,” Darcy said. “What we do know is that we need to find it. Quickly.” 

Colton needed to find Sasha. 

Thankfully, Sasha was not a hard man to find. Colton knew that Madeline was with Jude, but Sasha didn’t, which made his first stop Madeline's shop. He didn’t remember exactly when Sasha had made his next appointment, but he knew Sasha was sweet on Madeline. Being in love made people do silly things, like pretend to forget appointment times just for a chance to talk to their crush for a couple of minutes.

Sasha was right where Colton had expected him to be, but he looked uncharacteristically worried. One of his hands was covering his mouth, and he took a shaky step back, a stray piece of glass crunching beneath his shoe. He looked helplessly from Colton to the store front and back again.

The shop windows were broken, every single one of them, and the frames were on the ground floor were cordoned off with rope barricades. They were normal windows, not the type used for glass storefronts, but breaking all six of them couldn’t have been easy. Small bits of glass fell down from the second floor, and Colton shielded his eyes, taking a step back and waiting for the wind to die down before he dared to look up. 

At least two of the windows on the second floor had holes punched through them, and cracks were spread across the glass like a spiderweb. It looked to him like someone had thrown a brick through them, or perhaps a rock. Colton’s heart sank until he was sure it was somewhere near his feet. Glass was harder than it looked. Throwing a heavy object hard enough to break a distant window was no easy feat, and someone had done it twice. 

The telltale tinkle of glass drew Colton’s attention as someone dusted a little glass away from the edge of the windowsill from the inside. A member of the city watch, judging by the glimpse of a brown tunic Colton could see from down on the street. The watch tended to work fast. Mabre had more or less told him that she was the lead on this case, too, which meant she wouldn’t be happy to see him here. He’d promised to call if anything came up with Madeline - although to be fair, Mabre had presumably beaten him to the shop this time. A guilty part of Colton wondered if that would’ve still been the case if he hadn’t slept in or taken so long eating lunch with Reilley.

“Don’t worry, Ma-Miss Fortuna’s safe,” Colton said, quickly correcting himself when Sasha glanced back to him again, not wanting to let Madeline’s identity slip. The man looked like he was feeling every possible negative emotion simultaneously, and Colton was compelled to help put him at ease. To try, at least. He couldn’t exactly do a lot of good in the face of such a targeted attack on Madeline’s business. Sure, he had a good idea of who had done it, but the idea of trying to get a member of the royal family of Citarik arrested was laughable. 

“She is?” Sasha asked, relieved. “But where-”

“With a friend,” Colton said, cutting Sasha off. He quickly stepped forward to link his arm with Sasha’s and lead him away from the crime scene.  It was best to get going before the good members of the city watch noticed him. “I ran into her last night, and she mentioned it to me. I doubt she knows what happened to her shop.” He’d done more than run into Madeline, but he had a feeling that Sasha wouldn’t be pleased to learn that he’d gone out to a bar with her, what with his poorly concealed crush. 

“Then we should be telling her,” Sasha said, frowning. “Or the city watch.” 

“We can’t. Not yet.” Colton said. Sasha looked like he was about to object, so he quickly picked up where he’d left off. “I think I know who did it, but if word gets out, he might destroy the evidence.” 

Sasha frowned, and dug his heels in, forcing Colton to stop in the shadow of a nearby building. Madeline’s shop was still visible down the street, the rope barricades and broken glass making it more prominent than any other building. 

“Sasha-” Colton started, only for Sasha to cut him off instead.

“No. It is my turn to speak. What is going on here, Colton?” Sasha stared Colton down, refusing to budge so much as an inch as Colton pulled gently and fruitlessly at their linked arms. Colton wasn’t that strong, but he’d thought he was at least stronger than Sasha.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Colton said nervously, more aware than ever that he was speaking to someone directly related to the King of Citarik. He steeled himself for Sasha’s reaction, whatever it might be. “The necklace I told you I was looking for? It’s Miss Fortuna's. Someone stole it. Afterwards someone started breaking her windows, and now its escalated to this. She asked me not to tell anyone. She didn’t want to worry her clients.” That wasn’t the full story, but it was close enough, and Colton was sure it would be enough information to satisfy Sasha. He’d just gone and told one of her most influential clients exactly what he’d been told to keep a secret - the least he could do was only share what he absolutely had to.

“Someone is targeting her? Who? Tell me who dares!” Sasha demanded, stunned, then furious. Colton had never seen Sasha angry before, and he thought he could go without ever seeing it again. He was thankful he wasn’t the one who’d stolen that necklace, because the way Sasha was suddenly glowering made it clear that someone was going to pay dearly for it. His usually kind, blue eyes now looked more like he had two chips of ice in his skull, and his white, white teeth were more visible than ever.

“Shh! Calm down!” The look Sasha shot Colton was withering, and he quickly backpedaled. “I’m upset too, but we can’t go around looking like it. He’s gonna get away with this if we can’t act naturally.” 

Sasha appeared to accept Colton’s point, even though he didn’t like it. He took a few deep breaths, clenching and relaxing his hands as he forced himself to relax his expression. Colton was more relieved than he could put into words, and he didn’t try.

“It was Kaleb,” Colton said, bracing himself for the inevitable indignation and anger Sasha would undoubtedly feel. People didn’t like to hear that their close friends or relatives were responsible for their missing objects, or petty crimes. 

“Kaleb?” Sasha said, eyes wide. He looked like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was a genuine sort of shock, the sort that was impossible to fake, and Colton felt bad for him. 

“I know it’s not easy to hear something like this, but I need your help to make it right. I think Kaleb took the necklace and broke all those windows to stop you from going there. He hates the occult, and we both know about his violent little club.” Colton talked fast because he was nervous, and because he wasn’t sure how much time he had until Sasha’s shock wore off. 

“I think he’s been doing all of this to stop you from visiting Miss Fortuna. I don’t know how things are back in Citarik, but maybe he thinks a member of the royal family visiting a fortune teller makes everyone look bad. Or maybe he just really, really hates the occult. But he’s got motive, means and opportunity.”

”Perhaps I should have taken my appearance into more consideration,” Sasha said almost guiltily. “I suppose it would not look so good from Kaleb’s point of view… But even so, that is no reason to torment Miss Fortuna.” 

Sasha seemed to be coming to terms with what Colton was saying, however slowly. “You said you need my help?” he asked hesitantly. Colton sympathized. This was a lot to take in. 

“I do. I need you to find the necklace. It’s made of wood, with a crystal embedded into it. That’s the evidence we need. I’d get it myself, but there’s no way I could get away with breaking into the house of a foreign dignitary, even if it was for a good cause.”

“So you want me to find and take this necklace while you…distract Kaleb?” Sasha asked. Colton had to give him credit, he caught on fast.

“That’s the plan. I find him and keep him busy, and you grab the necklace. Then we can meet back up and give it back to Miss Fortuna.” They’d have to decide on whether or not to loop in the city watch, too, given Kaleb’s position in Citarik. How had finding one necklace put him on the verge of starting a diplomatic incident? 

“But you have to find him, first...” Sasha pointed out. “And I think I might know where he is.”

“Sorry about all this,” Colton said, walking almost painfully slowly so that he could keep pace with Sasha. His legs were so much longer that his usual stride would have left the much shorter man in the dust. Even the most well-lit streets were awfully dark this time of night, and he didn’t relish the idea of finding himself alone in them. People were bolder in the dark, where people couldn’t easily identify them, especially criminals. And he couldn’t always talk his way out of a bad situation, that was a lesson he’d learned a long time ago. The guttering streetlamps felt awfully ominous, like a scene out of a radio drama, and he was more grateful than ever to have Sasha with him. There were plenty of better targets than Sasha, people who weren’t as well known, and wouldn’t be missed. And Sasha would be very, very missed. 

“There is no need for apologies. Anyone with a heart would do this,” Sasha assured him, waving off the very notion with an air of what Colton could only assume was nobility. His movements were fluid and graceful, like he’d been practicing them all his life. Colton was sure he looked gangly and awkward by comparison, and found himself slouching so that he was closer to Sasha’s height. 

Colton found himself at a loss for what to say next, and was grasping for any appropriate conversational topic the way a desperate, drowning man would’ve grasped at a life preserver. Sasha’s royal status was intimidating, especially now that it was all that stood between him and a night in lockup. He had to watch what he said, especially with how perceptive Sasha seemed to be. Usually he avoided people that he felt could see right through him, but this was a special case. One that left him at a deeply uncomfortable loss for words.

“You might have to pick Kaleb up from the station.” Colton said, and immediately regretted opening his mouth. 

“Or, I mean, he could’ve talked his way out of an arrest,” he added, hurriedly.

“He will be fine,” Sasha said with a heavy sigh, apparently unconcerned with Kaleb’s whereabouts. Colton couldn’t help but think that being a member of Citarian nobility had a lot more benefits than he’d originally thought. “I do not think the watchmen will be arresting him. A report would have to be filed at the embassy, and it is too much work. Not that I would be minding so much if they did. His endorsement of bloodsports is shameful. A night in a cell might do him good. Maybe he will rethink this fighting club he attends - and if not, at least he will not be bothering me about visiting Miss Fortuna so often.” He laughed softly, and the gentle sound carried in the empty streets.

“Kaleb bugs you about that?” Colton frowned, glancing down at Sasha. He was supposed to be leading the way to his building, but he found himself terribly distracted by the conversation. With luck, he wouldn’t trip over the cracked, uneven sidewalk.

“Oh yes, he loves to tell me that I am wasting my time there. He does not like the occult, you see. He thinks it is all a con to take the money of believers. I do not think he likes her very much at all,” Sasha explained. There was real magic, no one could doubt that, but there were plenty of frauds in the world, and witches had a bad enough reputation as it was. People loved the convenience of magic, but the folks who used it were often seen as volatile and dangerous.

Colton laughed nervously, and tried not to think of the times he’d pulled off that exact con. He had no doubt that Sasha would disapprove of the fact that he’d preyed on guileless people like him in the past. It wasn’t something he felt good about, these days.

“Do not tell me you are of the same opinion?” Sasha asked, sounding disappointed.

“No, I’m not!” Colton said hurriedly, already feeling bad about the misunderstanding. “I mean, I think there are some people who take advantage of others like that, but I don’t think Miss Fortuna’s one of them. She’s so dedicated to her work, she has to be the real deal.” 

Sasha was silent for an agonizingly long moment, and then hummed his assent. 

“You are right, of course,” he said, and Colton breathed a sigh of relief. “But of course you would be. You are a detective! You must be good at seeing through lies.” 

“I like to think that I am,” Colton said as they rounded the corner closest to his shop. The dark lettering on the door was barely visible in the dark. He fished around in his pockets for the keys, instantly reminded of how grimy his suit was. Filth clung to his fingers in a thin, greasy layer, and he very nearly dropped his keys just as soon as he’d found them.

“Thanks for walking me home.” The key slid into the lock with minimal fumbling, and the door swung open. Suddenly, he was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed after the nights misadventures. 

“It was no trouble, as you Quorians say,” Sasha said with a smile. “I could hardly be facing Mr. Briscoe again if anything happened to you before your date.”

“It’s, uh, it’s not a date. I don’t think it’s a date… Is it a date?” Colton asked, pausing halfway inside to turn back around and look at Sasha. Somehow he felt nervous, hopeful, and sick to his stomach all at once.

“I do not know! That is for you to find out, my friend,” Sasha said with a laugh, gesturing for Colton to head inside. “Best of luck either way. Try to get some rest now.”

Colton nodded and retreated inside his darkened office, waving Sasha off through the windows. As soon as Sasha was out of sight, he made his way upstairs, shucking off pieces of his filthy suit as he walked, leaving a messy trail of discarded clothing behind him. When he finally crawled under his blankets, he fell asleep in his underwear and socks, with his glasses askew, as he’d forgotten to take them off at all.

[***]

A constant ringing intruded on Colton’s consciousness. Four long rings, an uneven silence, and then four more rings. He curled in on himself, pulling his blanket over his head. When that didn’t muffle the noise, he tried burying his head under his pillow. The ringing continued, and eventually he woke up to recognize the sound for what it was: his phone.

Colton shot out of bed, racing for the door to his flat, yanking it open, and abruptly closing it again upon realizing how little he was wearing. He rushed to his closet to grab a button-up shirt, glancing around the room for a pair of clean slacks. The pair he’d tossed to the floor at the edge of his bed - not the dirty pair from last night - were relatively clean, if a little wrinkled. He pulled them on and made for the door, taking the stairs two at a time all the way down to his office as he pulled on his shirt.

The phone rung again, and this time he managed to answer it, practically throwing himself over his desk to do so. 

“Hello? McKinley Detective Agency,” he said, winded.

“Finally. I was starting to think you were dead,” came a tired, rather monotone voice from the other end of the line. “This is Jude, by the way,” she added, much to Colton’s relief, because he hadn’t instantly recognized her voice.

“Jude! Hey! No, I’m not dead. I had a run in with the Watch, but I made it home in one piece. How about you guys? Is Madeline still with you?”

“Yeah, she’s upstairs. I’m calling from my dormitory. The other girls are going to be mad at me for hogging the phone all morning.” 

“Sorry about that,” Colton said, sheepishly. He didn’t know how long he’d tried to ignore the phone while he was in bed, and frankly, he didn’t want to. 

“It’s fine. So, Madeline gave me your business card. You’re a detective? Were you looking into something at the bar last night?” Jude sounded interested, but not overly eager. 

“I wasn’t, but I ended up finding something anyway.” Colton paused, turning an idea over in his mind. He had a pretty good idea about who might have a grudge against Miss Fortuna after his chat with Sasha, but he still had to actually catch Kaleb before accusing him of anything. “Do you think Madeline could stay with you for another day? I really hate to impose, but I think I’m about to solve a case, and I don’t want her to get pulled into it.”

“Sure,” Jude replied instantly. “You risked a lot to get me my camera back, and you didn’t have to. I don’t even remember if I had time to say thanks, so consider this my thank you.” 

“You don’t owe me for that,” Colton said, although it might’ve been easier on him if he hadn’t. “I don’t want this to be a transactional thing. I did that because I wanted to help, not because I had to.”

“And I’m doing this because I want to help, not because I have to,” Jude shot back evenly. “Go solve your case, Mr. Detective. I can’t stay on the phone all day. The cafeteria’s about to open for lunch, and I’ve still got to go grab Madeline.”

There was a sinking feeling in Colton’s chest. It was heavy, and cold, and he realized he’d forgotten something important. A glance at the clock confirmed his fears: it was less than five ‘till twelve, and the Lion’s Head pub was halfway across town.

Colton clambered on top of the dumpster, pulse pounding in his ears. He tried to ignore the flaky, crusted grime that covered the lid, and reached down to help pull Jude up. He offered Madeline his hand next, and Jude followed suit, helping him pull her up alongside the two of them.

“H-hey!” Someone yelled from The Hard Times Bar and Saloon’s back door. Oliver, maybe, if Colton had to guess - but he wasn’t going to wait around and find out for certain. He hopped off the back of the dumpster, landing on the street next to the bar. There was a commotion coming from the front of the bar, just out of his line of sight - yelling, and the sound of a bottle smashing against the ground. Colton hurriedly turned around to help Jude and Madeline down, only to find that they had already made it to the ground.

Ignoring the constable’s shouts to stay put, Colton took off with Jude and Madeline in tow. He knew the back alleys of the city better than most, and he knew which side streets led where. If they were being followed by anyone competent, it wouldn’t be enough to throw them off, but it would buy a little extra time.

“Why are we…running…? We didn’t do…anything wrong,” Madeline managed, gasping as they came to a stop at the end of an alleyway. It split into two smaller paths going in opposite directions, and was a decent enough place for everyone to catch their breath. The commotion from the bar was still audible, the sound carrying through the empty streets.

“Well,” Colton said after a few gulps of air. “I lied to Mabre about helping you out, and she is going to blow her top if she finds out. I’m also pretty sure that fight club was illegal.” 

“Yeah, it was illegal,” Jude agreed. Colton was surprised to see she had barely broken a sweat.

“I cannot go to jail, Colton. Do you know how bad that would look?” Madeline asked, brow furrowed, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

“Really bad?” Colton offered, unhelpfully. He backpedaled after a glance at Madeline, who was glaring at him. “It’s fine, I’ve got a plan. They’re only looking for one group of people, so we should split up. I’ll head off in one direction and try to lure the watch away, and you two go off the opposite way. That way even if you do get caught, you won’t be half as suspicious with me gone. You can make some story up about Jude getting mugged.”

“What are you going to do if you get caught?” Madeline asked.

“I’m not going to get caught,” Colton said with more confidence than he actually had. He could hear footsteps in the distance, and they were getting closer. “And we can find each other tomorrow. Hurry, someone’s coming!” 

Jude took Madeline by the hand and took off down one of the side paths, cutting off whatever objection she might have had. Colton turned on his heel and went the opposite way, bringing his feet down hard on the concrete and knocking a glass bottle off the corner of a nearby dumpster to make some noise.

When he was sure someone was following him - the city watch, hopefully, and not a stranger who was going to knife him in a back alley - Colton took off running in earnest. He dodged garbage cans and discarded beer bottles, and even squeezed through a narrow, grimy space between buildings when he felt that whoever was chasing him was starting to get too close. His suit was quickly becoming something that only a dry cleaner could salvage.

The market district was a great place to hide during the day, always bustling with crowds and vendors, but at night, it was eerily silent. Most shops had long since closed for the day, and the only real source of light was from a corner store at the end of the street. Two people in awfully recognizable tunics stepped out of the doorway, and Colton knew he was in trouble. Clearly the city watch was in better shape than he’d thought, to beat him all the way here. And they were damn good at their jobs, seeing as they managed to spot him in the dark. 

“Hey! Stop right there!” the constables called, already making their way towards him.

Colton ran. Wandering around the market district in the dark was terribly suspicious, no matter what way he looked at it. There was no explanation he could give that would excuse his being there. He would look like a thief, or worse, and seeing as he was already on the run from the law, there was no point in stopping.

The constables weren’t close enough to grab him yet, but they were steadily gaining ground. Colton turned a corner, then another, trying to shake them, but it wasn’t working. 

Just when he thought his legs might give out, a beacon of hope appeared in front of him. A tailor shop of hope, more specifically. The neon sign in the window was simple and generic, but as he drew closer, he was sure that he recognized the figure behind the counter, speaking to a customer. Colton burst in, dashing past Reilley and the person at the counter, and practically threw himself into a dressing room.

Silence fell over the shop, and Colton was sure that his heart was beating so loudly that everyone in the shop could hear it. He couldn’t even hear himself breathe over the way his pulse pounded in his ears.

“Sorry to disturb you, but have you seen anything odd tonight?” someone asked, and Colton felt his heart drop. Oliver. Colton hadn’t even heard anyone come in behind him, and chances were, if Oliver was here- “We’ve had reports of a suspicious figure in the area,” said Mabre.

-then so was Mabre. Colton barely dared to breathe, terrified that Reilley or the customer he’d seen was about to give him up. It wasn’t like he really knew either of them, and running into the shop with the city watch on his tail was not a good look by any stretch of the imagination.

“I have seen no one but Reilley,” the customer said, a Citarin accent coloring his words. Colton was surprised to recognize the voice as Sasha’s. “I assume he is not the one you are looking for? We have been here maybe an hour. I was getting fitted for a new suit.” 

“And you haven’t seen anything either?” 

Mabre didn’t sound like she believed Sasha, and it was making Colton terribly nervous. It sounded like one of the two constables was walking around the shop, and he crammed himself onto the little bench at the end of the dressing room in the hopes that his feet wouldn’t be visible through the gap between the door and the floor.

“Not a thing, besides Sasha. Taking measurements is awfully precise work. I’m ashamed to admit that I wasn’t keeping a proper eye on the rest of the shop, let alone the windows,” Reilley said, sounding apologetic.

Colton held his breath as a pair of boots came to a stop just outside the dressing room he’d managed to cram himself into. Time seemed to stand still, leaving him with nothing but his own pulse pounding in his ears and the faint hope that the flimsy door separating him from the rest of the shop would remain closed. And then, suddenly, the boots stepped away, and he could breathe again.

“Please give us a call if anything comes up,” Oliver chirped, and the pair of boots - probably his - made their way back over to the front counter. “We’ll get out of your hair now. Sorry to interrupt!”

The front door opened, and shut again, leaving the shop in relative silence. Colton didn’t dare speak, or open the dressing room door, worried Mabre and Oliver might come back any second. A minute dragged on, then two, then three. 

“You can come out now, Colton,” Reilley finally said. 

Colton made his way out of the dressing room, moving like a wobbly, newborn foal trying to stand for the first time. All that running and crouching had his legs feeling like jelly.

“What was that all about?” Reilley asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I was investigating a case,” Colton said, leaning heavily on the front counter.

“In such a way that the city watch needs to be chasing you?” Sasha asked, looking at Colton with his big, blue eyes in such a way that Colton was sure he’d see through any lie in an instant. 

“They had bad timing. I was talking to a lead over at BB’s place and there was a fight club going on out back. Kaleb was there. Or he was before the city watch got called. They might have caught him, I didn’t stick around long enough to see.”

“Of course he was,” Sasha said with a heavy sigh. “He is always getting into trouble. He partakes in betting on this shameful fighting ring, I am sure.” 

“That’s what it looked like he was doing,” Colton agreed. “I don’t know if he could’ve talked his way out of that one.”

“I take it you found a lead at Harlow’s?” Reilley interrupted, looking amused.

“I did, actually, thank you very much. You could have told me they were like that,” he said, frowning.

“You like Harlow’s too?” Sasha asked. “I go there often. What were you looking for? Maybe I have seen it.”

“A necklace,” Colton said without thinking. “A wooden one, with a little crystal embedded in it. But instead I found a creepy little doll.”

“Ah, you must be referring to Dalton. He is a little spooky at times,” Sasha said. “I have seen him plenty, but never your necklace.” He sounded genuinely apologetic, and frowned a little.

“I’m sure I’ll find it eventually,” Colton said, trying to cheer Sasha up. He hadn’t been expecting much, but the lack of leads was still disappointing. If someone who was into the occult like Sasha hadn’t seen it, then what chance did he have? But that was hardly Sasha’s fault, and he wasn’t about to take it out on him.

“At least let me walk you home. I remember, you are the one who saved Miss Mopsy, yes? It is the least I can do. The city watch will not bother you if you are with me,” Sasha said.

“I don’t imagine they would bother a member of the royal family,” Reilley said wryly.

Suddenly, it made sense why Mabre and Oliver had given up so easily. Colton had entirely forgotten that Sasha was related to the current king of Citarik. 

“Uh, sure. That’d be great,” he said, grateful for what was sure to be a quick and safe trip home.

“Colton, don’t forget, we’re meeting at the Lion’s Head pub for lunch tomorrow,” Reilley said.

“Yeah, of course,” Colton said, trying not to stumble over his words, because he’d made no such plans with Reilley. But for such a reminder to come out of nowhere…it felt like the sort of thing he ought to play along with. Something that had to be kept from Sasha, for some reason. “It was noon, right?” 

“That’s right,” Reilley said, looking pleased.

“Oh! I did not mean to be stealing your thunder,” Sasha said, glancing back at Reilley.

“Don’t worry, you’re not. Just make sure he gets home safe for me, will you?” 

“Of course! He will be the safest detective in the city,” Sasha assured him. It was almost comical how short Sasha was compared to Colton, but he seemed determined to protect him regardless. Admittedly, it was endearing.

“I’m sure he will be,” Reilley agreed, waving the two of them off.