1 Chapter One: Dragon Rising
Okoye crouched down beside the body, sweeping an appraising eye over it. The man's throat had been sliced through in a precise, clean slash. His arms bore no marks, defensive or otherwise, but his clothes were tangled around his body.
"See anything, boss?" Wright was in an easy stance with his pen and notebook at the ready.
"It's the same as the last four," she said, pushing herself to her feet. "Make sure Berchem gets this one, yeah?"
"The door was locked when the roommate got home," Wright added from his notebook. "Apparently he'd been out all night and when he got home early this morning he found Mullery right here on the floor."
"Did the roommate touch anything?" Okoye asked absently as she took a slow circuit of the room. She was spinning the thick bangle she wore around and around her wrist as she moved.
"No. Apparently he smelt the blood before he even stepped inside, and called the police the moment he opened the door.
Couch and reclining chair angled towards the television, a PS4 in the cabinet with a pair of controllers attached. A pizza box was open and empty on the bench in the kitchen. A statuette of a wolf was sitting pride-of-place on the bookshelf in the corner. Okoye could see a faint silver shimmer around it.
"Shifter?" Okoye asked as she glanced back at Wright.
He nodded. "Roommate's one too. Wolves travel in packs."
"Do we have a TOD?"
"When you give me a chance, sure." A case thumped onto the floor in front of a scowling man. He wore doctor's scrubs over his stocky frame and a fedora that he took off to reveal a thick head of dark, slightly curly hair.
"Quickly, please, Berchem." Okoye glanced over at the door. "Wright?"
The detective nodded. In perfect sync, the door clicked shut in its frame.
"Sealed."
Berchem grumbled quietly as he knelt down beside the body. "You always need the necromancer, don't you? Never the coroner." From his case he produced three tall, slim candles, a brass goblet and a bottle of wine.
Okoye returned to her examination of the apartment while the necromancer set up his ritual. She was in the victim's bedroom when her name was called.
"You finished?" she asked.
"Something like that," Wright sniggered.
Okoye frowned down at Berchem, who appeared to have gone to sleep kneeling. "Does he normally do this?"
"Nope." The burly man folded his arms across his chest with a laugh. "Old man's finally worn himself out."
"Have not." Berchem's eyes snapped open to glare at Wright. "This one's just taking a little longer than it should."
"Why's that?" Okoye crouched down beside the necromancer, careful to avoid the candles as she did so.
"If I knew then it wouldn't be a problem," Berchem grumbled. His bones clicked as he climbed back to his feet. "It's like something's blocking my magic."
"Want a wish?" Okoye offered.
He shook his head. "Somehow I don't think that'll work." With a quick flick of his fingers the candles extinguished themselves. "We'll be doing it the medical way then, like I told you we should." Okoye couldn't help noticing he looked far less pleased than he normally would have. No one liked their magic to be unreliable.
"You can unseal the room now," she told Wright. A click at the door told her he had. The techs let themselves in almost immediately and started in on the sample collections.
"Start with the usual suspects, Wright," Okoye instructed. "But I have a feeling this is going to be a bad one."
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Vivian took another sip of her tea as she glared down at the paper on the table in front of her. It was too early in the morning for this nonsense. Her magic was churning within her, reacting violently to her emotions.
"Well this is just dumb," she grumbled. "What do they seriously think will happen if they do that?"
"Maybe they're just trying to be helpful?" the young boy across from her piped up.
It took some effort to shove her magic down. "Right, helpful. Police are super helpful." Vivian rolled her eyes. "I know you're young, Tristan, but come on. When have the police helped you, huh?"
Tristan shrank back in his seat. "Okoye's nice," he muttered. His soft brown eyes were downcast as he fidgeted with his fingers.
Vivian paused. So did her bubbling magic. "Oh. Good point. Okay then, some police are helpful. But organising a registry of razerni is a terrible idea."
"But… aren't regular people all on a registry?" Tristan ventured to ask.
"Yes, the same registry we're all on!" Vivian exclaimed, her voice echoing in the near-empty café. The heads of the staff and a handful of early-bird customers turned in her direction, causing her to twist her mouth into an apologetic grimace as she pressed her palms firmly together, magic sparking restlessly between them.
She waited until everyone looked away again before speaking in a quieter voice. "If regulars don't have to put themselves and their skills on a list, neither should we," she explained to Tristan.
The red-headed boy stared down at the tabletop, and the table vibrated under her elbows as his foot kicked against one of the table's legs. Tristan wore a strange expression, one she couldn't quite work out, and was far too mature for an eleven-year-old.
"Lighten up, kid," she said. "It's not all that bad. The council will consider the preposition and make a decision on what to do. They know what's best."
Tristan looked up at her. Vivian's grin faded as she took in his worried face.
"But, have - haven't you heard about the razerni being killed?" he whispered. "There's been four in the last two weeks."
Vivian bit her lip, glancing up towards the counter where Ava was chatting with some customers.
"How do you know about that?" she hissed, leaning towards him. "Surely Ava didn't tell you!"
The boy shook his head quickly. "I'm in here all day. I hear things."
She scowled. "Don't listen!"
"But I do!" Tristan protested. "I listen to a lot! And surely if, I dunno, this registry thing does happen then maybe the person who's killing razerni would be caught!"
Vivian stared at him. "Tristan, you aren't serious, are you? You're just repeating what you've heard in the café."
He shrugged, and she felt him kick the table again. "Yeah. Repeating stuff."
Vivian took a deep breath. "Okay, well maybe you should get Ava to talk to you about this stuff, not me." She picked the paper with the proposal up from the table and slipped it into her bag as she glanced towards the big clock on the wall behind the counter. "I've gotta get going, so I'll see you later, 'kay?"
Tristan nodded dumbly.
"Oh cheer up, kid!" she exclaimed as she stood up. He tried to duck away as she stuck a hand into his copper hair but giggled madly as she ruffled it even messier than before.
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Izcibal slouched in his seat beside Morgain, chin in one hand. He sighed heavily as he stared around at the councillors. There were twelve in total. He didn't know all of them personally, but he recognized them from Morgain's, ah, explanations of who they were.
He wasn't bothering to pay much attention to the conversation that was flying around him. It was something to do with the regular world, and therefore irrelevant to himself. Instead, he busied himself assessing the other councillors. There were seven permanent councillors and six non-permanent, but not all were present. Well, all were present but one.
Aside from the Seelie Queen Morgain, the only other faeries in the room was the Unseelie King and his second-in-command. They sat directly across from where Izcibal and the Queen were, glowering around at the other councillors. To the King's right was the Troll Duchess. Izcibal suppressed a shudder when he glanced in her direction. He wasn't fond of the cave-dwelling creatures that she held command over.
Instead, he turned his gaze to his left where the shifter-kelpie Douglas was seated. The tall man caught him looking, and shot him a quick wink. Izcibal liked Douglas. Kelpies were very nearly fae, and Douglas had a relaxed air about him that put people at ease. On Douglas' other side, Cernunnos was gazing fixedly at the wall opposite him, apparently as interested in the conversation as Izcibal was himself.
"Only a fool would decline this proposal!"
Izcibal's gaze flicked over to the furious sorcerer that sat on the Troll Duchess's right. He had risen to his feet and was glaring around the room.
"This is exactly what we need! The population is growing and the dangerous razerni must be kept track of if we wish to remain a secret from the regulars!"
A few of the non-permanent members were nodding slowly, and the Troll Duchess looked thoughtful.
"We can't force people to give us a way to track them, Sharzin," Douglas argued. "They're entitled to live their lives as they please. We have police to contain them if one steps out of line."
"If we can stop them before they step out of line, then so much more time and resources can be saved," the sphinx in the non-permanent half remarked. "It would be a logical choice."
"Not all razerni will see it that way," Morgain spoke up. "Many will view this registry as a violation of their rights."
"We aren't in the USA, Morgain," the Unseelie King grumbled. Izcibal was mildly surprised the King even knew the USA existed. "People aren't quite so fanatical about their 'rights'. And this legislation will only apply to razerni who live in the regular world, surely. I see no need for those who do not interact with regulars to be tracked."
"And I see no need for anyone to be tracked," Douglas replied. "We have to trust our community. Without trust between the council and people, everyone might as well just reveal themselves to the regulars and be done with it."
"That will never happen!" the Troll Duchess growled. "The regulars would try to erase us from existence!"
"Exactly!" Sharzin exclaimed. "If they discover us, war will break out! This registry will ensure that all razerni are kept track so they cannot reveal themselves to any regulars!"
Izcibal tuned back out of the conversation again, bored. The councilors were just going to go around and around on this topic. He was unable to stop a small sigh from escaping his lips. Why had Morgain dragged him along to this again?
Time seemed to creep by like an overgrown slug as Izcibal waited. He tried to entertain himself with stories and images dancing behind his eyes, but it was still much too long before someone finally called for a vote.
"All in favour of considering the legislation for changes!" Sharzin called.
Bursts of green light shot up into the air around the room. Izcibal counted quickly, and sighed again. Six.
"All against."
Six red bursts.
Izcibal wondered how six people could be against this registry. He could guess that Morgain wasn't all that fond of it, but he was inclined to agree with the Unseelie King. The razerni that lived in Faerie shouldn't have to register, but he could understand why monitoring those that interacted with regulars would be a good idea.
"We cannot come to a proper conclusion without our thirteenth member." Douglas protested.
All eyes flicked to the sole empty chair. It sat sullenly at the end of the hall, between the Seelie Queen and Unseelie King. Izcibal knew who was supposed to be there. The same man who had started the Council five hundred years ago.
"Merlin isn't here," Sharzin said calmly. "He has declined the right to vote in this matter."
Izcibal felt his Queen tense.
"Very well." Her voice was curt. "We will consider the legislation, but not during this session. We should take time to form suggestions that will be beneficial."
"Then I would like to bring up another matter." The unicorn-shifter spoke up from the opposite end of the chamber. "There have been several murders across south England in the last two weeks. All razerni, and all killed in the same way."
There was a silence in the hall. Izcibal remembered that the unicorn-shifter was a police captain in the regular world. He probably had access to all that sort of information.
"Why exactly are a few dead shifters important?" the Unseelie King asked lazily.
Izcibal clenched his fists, and every shifter councilor lifted their voices in outrage, including Morgain.
"That is exceedingly rude!" the sphinx said, giving the Unseelie King a severe look. Sphinxes were really rather good at those, Izcibal thought.
The King shrugged. "Perhaps. But it is the truth. Would you be as concerned for their welfare if they were regulars?"
"Of course," the unicorn-shifter said calmly. "That is my job. My duty. My force and I work to ensure the safety of all those who reside in my city. The entire police force works for the safety of the country and its people. Regulars, magi, shifters and mystiques alike. As it is, there appears to be a serial killer who is targeting razerni, and yes, shifters."
Izcibal sank further into his seat as words began flying between the councilors again. This was so terribly boring.
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Okoye pursed her lips as she gazed around the room again. Mullery was the fifth shifter murdered in the last two weeks. She could clearly picture the caseboard back in the precinct, each picture showing the victims with their throats slashed cleanly through in exactly the same manner.
She felt Wright's bulk coming up behind her, and turned to face him.
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Vivian's head felt full as she paced along the footpath. It was very quiet, still too early for many people to be up and about. What Tristan had said - about the four razerni that had been murdered - she hadn't realised it was that many. It unsettled her.
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Izcibal stared off into the distance as he turned over the council's words in his mind. Razerni being murdered. A legislation for a razerni registry. He'd never thought he would ever be sitting in on a conversation with twelve of the highest ranked razerni in both worlds. Of course, five years ago he'd never thought he would have been so close to the Seelie Queen Morgain.
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"Neighbors see anything?" she asked.
"Nothing." The big man shook his head. "They were all asleep at the time. Some of them were still asleep when I knocked on their door."
"TOD is 3 hours ago," Berchem announced. "4am."
"Same as the others." She met Wright's gaze, and knew that her bad feeling had been right.
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Maybe she'd go talk to Okoye. Offer her services as a consultant. Her power-reading could often be useful when it came to gauging if a powerful spell had been cast recently. And killing a razerni would most certainly take some magic. What worried her the most was how many people knew about the murders.
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Oh if only his eleven-year-old self had known. If only his eleven-year-old self had known anything.
He tipped his head to the side as a thought hit him. How would they get any regular-born razerni onto the registry if they did end up implementing it? Most of them were too confused to control their magic, and they were probably the biggest risk to the regulars finding out.
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"Do you -" Okoye paused as she was turning to face the door. Something was pricking at her senses. "Do you feel that?" She spun back around to look at the other detective, who was frowning slowly.
"Yes, I do."
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A shiver raced down Vivian's spine, and she stopped dead in the middle of the path. Her eyes stretched wide at the sensation. In her pocket, her phone buzzed madly.
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Mind you, regulars -
Izcibal froze. His eyes flicked straight up to Morgain, who had also stiffened. There was a collective intake of breath around the room, many of the councillors rising to their feet.
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Surely not. Now of all times?
A dragon was rising!
