In Moonlight - Ch 10 - We Need to Talk to Knox

"Why do you need to talk to Knox?" Kassidy asked.

"Because, he might know something more about... what happened," Genie said carefully, as she watched her little sister search through her desk, looking for the activist's address.

After speaking with the witness and getting turned away by Baron Charm's butler (what was going on there?), Genie had come to the conclusion that talking to Knox Greenburg was the next clear step. She just hoped the late Shannon Charm's boyfriend really did know something that would help her unravel the mystery around her murder.

"Found it," Kassidy said triumphantly, handing Genie a Speak for the Trees pamphlet with several phone numbers and addresses written on the back. "Can I go with you?"

"No," Genie said with a smile. "And, before you say anything, first, you've got school and, second, mom would blow her stack if I took you with me while I investigate this."

"Fine," Kassidy pouted as only a teen can, making it clear it was anything but fine.

God, was I ever that young? Genie wondered silently. Out loud she said, "I'll call you when I've spoken to Knox and let you know what we find out."

"Don't worry, Kassidy," Jenny put in. "You sister is a totally fearless reporter. She'll get to the bottom of this."

"I know," Kassidy sighed, leading them out of her room. "I just want to... oh crap. Stop. Stop. Quiet."

Startled, Genie rocked to a halt. A quick look around the second floor landing was enough to notice her mother, reason enough to be very still and quiet. Coming up the stairs, she saw Stephens escorting a thin, bald man in a black suit and hat. 

"That guy creeps me out," Kassidy whispered.

"Who is he?" Genie asked in hushed tones. "Has he been bothering you?" she added, remembering how some of her father's campaign contributors would leer and paw at her.

"Mr. Hand," Kassidy answered. "He works for Representative Friend, I think. He's been meeting with mom a lot lately... something about money or investments or something... and no, he hasn't done anything like you're thinking. It's just..."

As Kassidy spoke, Luna had already passing through the doors that led into her private office but Mr. Hand paused, turning. His eyes, hidden behind black shades, swept across the landing. 

"Just when he looks at me," Kassidy shivered. "It feels like..."

"... worms crawling through my brain," Jenny hissed, her face twisted in revulsion. To be fair, Genie thought, Jenny has had issues with bald men in suits ever since she made the mistake of dating Uncle Max, the gangster.

Looking across at the man in black, Genie didn't feel anything. At the same time, she'd not-seen ghosts before. Ghosts she knew had been there anyway. Ghosts she knew Jenny could see plainly. She didn't know who, or what, Mr. Hand might be, but as he turned away to follow her mother, Genie resolved to find out. Because I needed another mystery, she thought.

-----------------

The train had rocked quietly under them for hours, following the twisting bends and steep climbs through the foothills of the Granite Mountains. Even with the speed and efficiency of Windslar's rail system, it was a long trip from Windenburg to Evergreen Harbor.

"You know, I've never been to Evergreen Harbor," Jenny said as the train finally pulled into their destination. 

Genie knew Jenny was still a little annoyed about being left out last time. 

"You didn't miss much," she sighed. "We didn't exactly hit the hot spots. Just the train station, a rundown neighborhood and the emergency room."

Closing her eyes, Genie could remember it clearly. Confronting her Uncle Max outside the dingy looking house in a dingy looking neighborhood. They'd lured the gangster and his minions there using the strange magic Etta Blackwood had insisted wasn't real magic. "Just hedge magic," the former witch had insisted.

Whatever kind of magic it had been, it had convinced Uncle Max that Miranda and Mariah were hiding in that dingy house. Convinced him to come to their trap and not to whatever house Genie's friends were really hiding in. 

She still didn't know where they actually were. 

Most of all, she remembered Uncle Max's gun. The cold, dark metal of it and the gaping cavernous barrel, aimed lethally toward its target. The person Max Villareal had considered the most dangerous to him - Etta Blackwood.

Strangely enough, Genie didn't really remember the pain of getting shot. She didn't even remember making the decision to step between Etta and the gun. Maybe she'd just done it without really thinking about it.

Her arm still ached, where the bullet had torn through her.

She'd survived, obviously. Etta had survived. Miranda and Mariah were safe, wherever they were. Uncle Max had escaped, but that didn't really matter. She'd deal with him, eventually. Her uncle. The gangster.

She remembered a time when she hadn't know her family included some of the Republic's most notorious gangsters. When she hadn't known her mother, who had never been easy to live with, was actually in league with dangerous people. When she hadn't known how deeply her father's corruption ran. 

A time when she hadn't know that, in the shadows behind all that, lurked things even more terrifying - vampires, werewolves and witches.

A time before she'd become friends with Miranda Goth. 

If it wasn't for Miranda, she wouldn't know any of this. 

She'd asked her dear friend Aadi once, if they thought being friends with Miranda was worth it.

"Girlfriend, let me tell you something," the blue-haired, gay, non-binary artist had smiled in their fabulous and strangely wise way. "The monster was always under the bed. You just couldn't see it. So, you could pretend it wasn't there. That was a lie. Lies are easy. They're comfortable and that makes you think they're safe... but they're not, because the truth is always there. Between the comfortable lie and the scary truth, I choose the truth." 

-----------------

"The San My Herald, you say," Mrs. Greenburg asked. "What do you want with my boy?"

A trip to Knox Greenburg's address, and some questions to the neighbors, had led Genie and Jenny to a nearby community garden and finally to his polite but clearly formidable mother. 

"I'm hoping to interview him for a story that I'm working on," Genie replied. It wasn't strictly a lie. In fact, she was pretty sure there was a story here that her editor would be interested in, if she could just unravel it.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Mrs. Greenburg said, clearly considering. "Of course, last time that reporter took everything Knox said out of context and misquoted him on top of that. My boy might be a bit hot-headed but he's no 'eco-terrorist.'"

"It's not my intension to paint anyone in a bad light or get Knox into any trouble, ma'am," Genie said. Unless he happens to be a trained covert ops assassin who repeatedly stabbed his girlfriend, she added to herself. Then all bets are off.

"He might not feel like talking to you," Mrs. Greenburg said. "I assume you know he's suffered a tragedy?"

"I do, ma'am," Genie said, deciding honesty was the best policy here. "I am hoping to speak with him about that, but I don't want to make him uncomfortable or upset. I'm trying to find answers."

"That's what I thought," Mrs. Greenburg snorted. "The news reports I've read just want to sweep it aside, as if that poor girl's death didn't matter to anyone."

"I know, ma'am," Genie said. "I intend to change that." 

"Is that so?" Mrs. Greenburg continued to consider for a moment, then arrived at her decision. "Well, if Knox isn't at work... and he won't be this time of the evening... you're likely to find him at the Caboose with his friends. That's a bar on the waterfront. Mind you keep what he says in its proper context."

"I will," Genie nodded. "Thank you."

"She seemed nice, in that slightly scary hippy kind of way," Jenny said as they walked toward the former train station turned bar.

"You know 'slightly scary' and 'hippy' don't really go together in my head," Genie replied.

"That's because you've never met my mother," Jenny laughed. "She's a very sweet lady, until you cross her... then you better be prepared for a fight."

"I'll take 'scary hippy' over my mother any day," Genie said. "You know, you never talk about your parents? Why is that?"

"No comment," Jenny said, flashing what Genie recognized as her dazzling paparazzi smile. She decided not to press the issue. If there was one thing Genie understood, it was parent issues.

-----------------

"So, if you're done signing autographs and taking selfies with your legions of fans," Genie said a short while later.

"Oh, it was one fan," Jenny said, unable to hide her pleased smile.

"The bartender said Knox and his friends usually hang out back here," Genie chuckled, leading the way into the bar's back room. "We're looking for a guy in a red hat and vest. He shouldn't be too... Oh. My. God!"

"What? I... You!" Jenny's jaw dropped.

"Etta!?" Genie gasped.

"Genie?" Etta gasped, looking up. "Tenebrae Externae! What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Knox Greenburg," Genie said, pointing over at the man in the red cap and vest sitting on the couch between Demarco and a red-head she'd never met. "What are you doing here?"

"Talking to my friend, Knox Greenburg," Demarco put in, deadpan, as Etta leapt to her feet and rushed over to Genie.

"It's good to see you," Etta smiled. "Is your arm OK? It hasn't been bothering you."

"My arm's fine," Genie said, pulling the usually reserved blonde woman into a hug.

"So, you guys know each other," Knox said.

"Yeah, we met about a month ago," Demarco said as Etta reclaimed her seat. "It's kind of a long story."

"You don't seem to have any other kind anymore," Knox observed.

"Anyway, Genie here is, among other things, a reporter," Demarco said. "I expect she has some questions for you, Knox."

"Oh, well, I guess that's OK," Knox said.

"Are you sure? I don't mean to intrude but, yeah, I was hoping to ask you some..." Genie started.

"Hey guys," Mandy called out. "Sorry we're late. I was..."

"Madonna!" Mary gasped.

"Genie? Jenny?"  Mandy stammered. "Claudette!?"

"So, you guys know each other, too," Knox blinked.

"It's kind of a long story," Etta groaned softly. 

In Moonlight - Ch 9 - Beardy Bill

"Hey Bill, how's it going?" Mary asked with a warm smile.

Everyone Mary had talked to called the guy Beardy Bill, because of his long, scruffy beard. He was a fixture on the waterfront, probably the most well-known of the Harbor's homeless. He was even featured occasionally in the local news, usually in articles about the plight of the homeless, the urban poor and the mentally ill. 

There was no doubt in Mary's mind that Bill hit all the boxes. He was poor, homeless and a bit unstable. His sometimes wild rants and occasional outbursts of unpredictable rage could be frightening. Still, in Mary's opinion, he was a decent guy. She'd known worse men, who hid their violence behind expensive suits and smooth smiles.

"Mary, Mary, oh contrary," Bill replied in a sing-song voice, returning her smile with one of his own. "How does your garden grow?"

"Better now that Mandy won't let me touch it," Mary laughed. "She's pretty sure I killed a plastic flower once."

"I brought you a little something," Mary said.

"A visit from yer charmin' self is gift enough," Bill grinned. "You didn't need to trouble yer'self."

"It's just some bagels and coffee I lifted from the breakroom at work," Mary said. "It's not much, but it's something."

"Don't get yer'self in trouble for the likes of me," Bill admonished.

"Nobody's going to give me trouble over day-old bagels and bad coffee, Bill," Mary scoffed. Truthfully, Rotten Josh would probably try if he knew, but she could handle him.

"Yer a good girl, Mar," Bill said. "And yer right, this is terrible coffee."

"Shit," Etta cursed, coming to a sudden stop. "Shit, shit, shit."

"What?" Demarco asked, puzzled. 

Glancing around the edge of the old shipping container, she could see Beardy Bill talking to a young woman. It was hard to make out much over the overwhelming scents of ripe trash, rust, oil and salt water from the harbor, and Beardy Bill himself, but she could just pick out a hint of the woman's scent. She smelled of something Demarco could only call strength, something that reminded her a bit of Rory. 

"Who is that?" Demarco asked. 

"Mariah Huntley," Etta whispered. "She's going to kill me." 

"What, Mariah Huntley, the ex-gangster who married Miranda Goth?" Demarco said. "Why would she have a problem with you?"

"Oh, I don't know Lux," Etta snarled quietly, clearing missing Demarco's sarcasm. "Maybe because I magically roofied Miranda, seduced her, and helped gangsters kidnap her. Gangsters who were planning to sell her to the Dark Court? Any of that ringing a bell?"

Of course it does, Demarco thought with an inward sigh. She knew the shame and pain her partner carried over her past crimes. Crimes Etta had committed at the command of her abusive father, who had seen his daughter as nothing but a weapon in his war with the Witches' Council. She worried that Etta was still trapped by that past. That she couldn't seem to accept that she wasn't that lost teen anymore. 

"Yes," Demarco admitted, trying to sound calming. Etta needed to confront her past. "But you also turned your back on those gangsters, and your father, and helped her escape. Besides, that was like four years ago. Did Miranda and Mariah even know each other then?"

"They'd been dating for a few months," Etta moaned. "Miranda actually offered to leave her for me... all because of the damn spell I put on her."

"Oh," Demarco blinked. She'd known Etta had used magic to make Miranda fall for her, but not that hard. Looking at the pain in her partner's face, she felt a small and uncomfortably familiar stab of jealousy. Had it just been a spell? Now wasn't the time to confront that. She decided it was better to go back to humor instead. "Yeah, she's definitely going to kill you."

"See," Etta sighed, still too wrapped up in her own feelings to spot the joke. "Shit. What are the odds? I mean, we knew they were hiding out in the Harbor, but what are the odds she'd know Beardy Bill?" 

"Everyone knows Beardy Bill," Demarco pointed out.

"You doing OK out here, Bill?" Mary asked carefully. It was always a balancing act, she knew from experience, to offer help to a guy like Bill.

"I got everything I need, Mar," Bill said confidently.

"You sure? I know it's been getting cold at night," Mary pressed. The summer's intense heat was a distant memory now. Mary had woken this morning to see frost on the windows, and she'd thought about Bill.

"Not my first autumn, kid," Bill grinned. "I know how to take care of myself."

"You know, if it gets bad there are shelters," Mary suggested, trying to sound casual.

"Phfa," Bill snorted, amused. "Damn Jacoban preachers and their God-talk. I'd rather be cold."

Mary wanted to argue. Instead, she found herself remembering another time and place, a homeless teen runaway and a Jacoban missionary who would come by once a week to rant about sin and an angry God before offering her enough money to buy some food in exchange for a blowjob behind the dumpsters. Long practice kept the memory off her face, while Mary acknowledged it and put it away, reminding herself that she wasn't that lost teen anymore.

"Ok, I can respect that," Mary said, that same practice keeping her voice steady. "Just take care of yourself."

"Always have, always will," Bill smiled. "Don't worry 'bout me, Mar. I got folk who look after me... like you and like Lilah and her family. Folk who look after each other. I ain't alone."

"Good," Mary said. That lost teen runaway named Mariah had been alone, had refused to not be alone. She wouldn't let this strange, mad old man be. I'll bring him some blankets next time, she told herself. "I've got to run... got to catch the bus and get home before Mandy sends out a search party."

"Say hi for me," Bill said.

"I will," Mary smiled. "I hope the bagels aren't too stale."

"No worries, I got sharp teeth," Bill grinned.

"Evening Bill," Demarco said. She'd waited until Mariah Huntley was well out of earshot before she'd approached, making sure to make a little noise so she didn't startle Beardy Bill. It wasn't a good idea to startle someone like Bill.

"The remarkable Demarco," Beardy Bill smiled. "Lady Blackwood," he added with a nod to Etta that was completely, respectfully sincere.

"Bill," Etta nodded back courteously. 

"I wondered when you were going to show yourselves," he continued. "Have a bagel."

Demarco almost refused, but stopped herself even before Etta's warning glance. Beardy Bill might look like a crazy homeless guy. He was actually a crazy homeless guy, but he was also a Wolf and the leader of the Evergreen pack. As a Wildfang, her actions reflected on her own pack, and on the Moonwood, and that meant she had to respect the ancient customs of the Wolves. When a pack leader offered you food, you did not refuse.

Hospitality was one of the oldest and strongest of the ancient customs. An offer of food by a pack leader meant more than just a snack. It was a gesture of respect, an invitation to share what the pack had - food, shelter, and above all safety. In essence, Hospitality, once offered and accepted, meant the guest became a temporary member of the host's pack. Even members of rival packs respected those rules, setting their conflicts aside for as long as they were guest and host. 

To refuse an offer of Hospitality, on the other hand, was seen as deliberately leaving the possibility of conflict open. It was as good as spitting in a guy's face while insulting his mother.

According to Etta, even witches and vampires honored the custom of Hospitality, each in their own ways. Since most vampires couldn't handle solid food, Demarco hadn't had the guts to ask Etta what - or who - vampires offered their guests. The options she imagined weren't good ones. She was almost glad the near-constant conflict between vampires and werewolves meant that she wasn't likely to be offered a glass of AB negative anytime soon. 

She'd take stale bagels any day.

"So, that's the situation," Demarco concluded. Ancient customs respected and bagels eaten, she had launched into explaining why they'd come to see Bill. The older Wolf had listened seriously, nodding to show he understood, but otherwise letting her finish her story without interrupting. 

"Since you're pretty tuned into what happens on the waterfront, I was hoping you might have heard something," she added. "If only who's using the old waterfront offices these days."

"Well, I can't say I know much of what ol' Cletus is up to," Beardy Bill mused. "He keeps his distance from us, and we keep our distance from him. This is the first I've heard of him being up on the mountain making trouble. Might be we oughta keep a closer eye on him."

"We don't want to make trouble for your people," Demarco said diplomatically, while inwardly allowing herself a little cheer at the idea of getting help from the Evergreen pack.

"Sounds like it's ol' Cletus making trouble," Bill replied. Demarco could see a glint in his eye that made her wonder, not for the first time, if older Wolves could read minds. She sure couldn't.

"As for the waterfront offices," Bill continued. "That would be the Evergreen Development Corporation."

"The shoestring land development thing Bess Stirling was starting up?" Demarco blinked.

"Shoestring no more," Bill grinned. "She's gone and got both shoes now. Got a bunch of other local firms working together and I hear they've got some big investors."

"Have you heard anything about these investors?" Etta asked, pouncing on the possible lead like Rory on a rabbit.

"Strangely enough, I don't get invited to their business meetings," Bill replied. "Unless maybe I missed an email. I could check my spam folder."

"Still, you really wanna know what's going on inside Evergreen Development, you might look up yer friend Knox," Bill continued. "Him and them Hug the Trees folks were out picketing their offices a while back. If I remember right, they even said they were heading down to the Old City to protest at some big bank. Of course, he might feel up to talkin' 'bout it."

"Why not?" Demarco asked. She'd never known Knox Greenburg to turn down a chance to talk at length about his latest cause. 

"Oh, you ain't heard," Bill said sadly. "Knox had a girl he was seein' ... another of them tree hugger folks."

"Way to go, Knox," Demarco said with a grin. A moment later the look on Beardy Bill's face took the smile from hers and knocked the air from her lungs even before he spoke.

"She got killed," Bill said gently. "Way I heard it, it was a mugging gone bad."

"Oh God," Demarco breathed.

"Yeah, poor Knox and poor Princess Charm," Bill shook his head.

"Princess Charm?" Etta asked, and Demarco caught something sharp rise in her partner's scent. Something that she knew in her bones meant trouble.

"That was his lady's name," Bill said. "Charm. Sherry... no, that's not it."

"Shannon," Etta supplied.

"That's it. Shannon Charm," Bill nodded, his bright eyes fixed on Etta's. He didn't ask how or why she knew that name. Even Hospitality had limits, and Bill wasn't one to pry into someone else's secrets.

Demarco felt no such limitations. "What?" she asked.

"I'll tell you on the way," Etta replied. "We need to talk to Knox. Thanks Bill."

Demarco knew her well enough to guess that her partner wasn't trying to hide something from Bill. No, Demarco thought, she had the distant but intense expression that said she was looking at something far away, something neither of the Wolves could see. 

Before she could even try to explain to Bill, the old Wolf simply nodded.

"No problem," he said. "Good hunting, sisters." 

In Moonlight - Ch 8 - Gangsters

"I just don't like the idea of you going out and confronting gangsters, honey," Gretchen Blackwood said.

The smell of baking bread filled the Collective's sprawling cabin. In the background; Beth Volkov, Jake's wife, was starting lunch while their little daughter Diana scampered about on unsteady legs. It was as comfortable, and as safe, a place as Etta had ever known. She'd lived here for several years, sorting herself out, before moving in with Demarco.

Etta was grateful beyond words that Jake and Beth and the rest of the Collective had opened their home to her mother, giving her a place to sort herself out too. 

"We won't really be confronting them, mom," Etta said reassuringly. "Just investigating. I'll be safe."

"I know," Gretchen said. "I just worry. I forget sometimes that you aren't a little girl anymore."

Which, Etta felt, was reasonable. Her mother had spent more than ten years under her father's spell - a literal spell. Etta's father, the warlock Dr. John Faust, had thought nothing of using his magic to twist his wife's mind in order to make her his obedient servant. Ever since Etta had broken her free, Gretchen had been slowly rebuilding herself. Occasional lapses of memory were expected.

"I'll take care of her," Demarco put in with a warm smile. "There will be no confronting gangsters without me there to keep her safe." 

Thankfully, Etta thought, Demarco didn't add 'this time.' She still hadn't entirely forgiven Etta for going off to confront gangsters without her the last time.

"See, I'll be fine," Etta smiled.

"You don't... don't think your father is involved, do you?" Gretchen asked. The flash of sudden fear crossing her mother's face was like a punch to Etta's gut, sparking both pain and rage. 

"You don't need to worry about him, mom," Etta said. "He can't hurt you anymore. You are safe here."

Even if the people of Moonwood Mill didn't have their own reasons to hate Dr. Faust, Etta knew they would all rally to protect a battered woman from her abusive husband. It was just a good community. Yes, Faust was a powerful warlock with centuries of experience but, apart from Etta and her mother, every person in and around the Collective cabin - from little Diana to kind old Lily outside tending her garden - and every member of the Wildfangs, was a werewolf. 

"Nowhere safer," Demarco agreed.

"What if my father is involved," Etta fretted. Outside the sprawling cabin, with only Demarco to see, she let her confident mask slip. "He won't have given up his schemes of getting control of the Moonwood."

There was power in the Moonwood, an ancient and wild magic that lived in the earth, the air and the waters of the old forest. Even with her Powers stripped from her by the justice of the Witches' Council, Etta could almost hear the trees whispering to each other. A skilled witch in the fullness of her strength could use that magic to do great and terrible things, if she could touch it. The Moonwood did not give up its secrets easily.

"Well, your dad did almost beat us once, what with his forbidden magic and all," Demarco allowed. 

"Not really making me feel better," Etta sighed.

"If it is him, we'll be ready for him this time... but I don't think it's him," Demarco said confidently. "I mean, sure, he's a powerful, evil warlock who's in league with vampires against his own people... but, real estate scams? Working with Cletus? I don't think even Faust would stoop that low."

Etta laughed. Demarco always managed to do that to her.

---------------------------

"So, I guess this is it," Demarco said, looking at the house, large for this part of Evergreen Harbor. 

Rory and Lou had made it a point to track down Cletus's place after the last time the local crime boss had tried to set up business in their territory. Even if they hadn't, Demarco was pretty sure she'd have been able to sniff out Cletus's particular stink of stale sweat and meth, even in the small city's general stench of people, cars, trash and rust. 

How had she ever lived here, she wondered. How did the few Wolves who did live in the Harbor stand it? 

"You got anything?" Etta asked, looking at the house.

"Not really," Demarco admitted after risking a deeper breath. "It's definitely Cletus's place, but it stinks so much of meth, booze and trash, he could having a dinner party in there and I wouldn't be able to sniff out specifics."

"I guess we do this the old fashioned way," Etta said with a reassuring smile.

Demarco crept toward the house, using every bit of woodscraft Rory had taught her to stay quiet. She'd seen her pack leader sneak up on a deer in the woods, making less sound than a gust of wind across the forest floor. Demarco always felt like an enthusiastic puppy crashing through dry leaves in comparison, but Rory insisted she was fine. 

It didn't help her self-image that Etta moved behind her in total silence. If not for the scent of herbs, home-made soap and that particular odor that was just Etta, Demarco wouldn't have known she was there at all. Etta never talked much about how her father had trained her from childhood to become a spy and assassin, and Demarco didn't press. She just hated how often they asked Etta to use the skills the bastard had taught her.

"Hang back," Demarco whispered as she crept up to the window. She was the Wolf here, damn it. If anyone was going to take the risk of getting this close, it was going to be her.

Glancing through the partly open blinds, she could see Cletus and... who is this guy?

"You were given specific instructions, Mr. Harris," the grey-haired man said in a cool, dispassionate voice. "A specific list of properties whose owners you were to... persuade... to sell. You deviated from that list."

"You knows and I knows that you need Lumber Jackson's land just as much as them others," Cletus snapped back. "I knows he weren't gonna sell without a little persuadin'. So I decided to git a jump on it. If Jackson sells, them others up 'round the Mill will be more like to fall in line."

"But you didn't persuade Mr. Jackson, did you?" the grey-haired man replied.

"If that damned bitch Rory hadn't stuck her nose in," Cletus began.

"But she did," the grey-haired man cut him off without raising his voice. "An outcome which should have been entirely obvious even to you, Mr. Harris. The investors are aware of the challenges posed by Ms. Oaklow and her associates. We had intended to avoid involving her, or Mr. Volkov, until we were properly positioned to deal with them. Instead, you have forced the issue."

"Well maybe if you'd done told me about that little plan, I woulda knew it," Cletus snapped. "You know, Mr. Grey, I'm thinkin' I oughta be meeting with these in-vest-tors of yours myself. Maybe that'd clear up some o' this."

"All in good time, Mr. Harris," the grey-haired man replied smoothly. 

"I think maybe this is a good time," Cletus snarled. "In fact, I think maybe my boy Jed here might insist on it."

"Oh, please do," the woman in black, who had stood silently behind the grey-haired man through all of this, purred menacingly. 

"There will be no need for that, Malory," the grey-haired man said to her, not taking his eyes off Cletus. "In fact, I think Mr. Harris raises a good point. I will speak to the investors and arrange a meeting."

"There, that weren't so hard, was it?" Cletus grinned.

"I will be in touch, Mr. Harris," the grey-haired man nodded.

"It's true what they say," the grey-haired man said with mild amusement, as he stepped out onto Cletus's porch, the woman in black following like a shadow behind him. "Good help is hard to find."

Demarco and Etta, having slipped back out of sight, watched and listened intently. 

"How do we proceed?" the woman in black asked.

"Go back to the hotel," the grey-haired man said. "I will see about speaking to the investors and arranging this meeting for Mr. Harris. If nothing else, it should be amusing. Clear out the hotel rooms and meet me at the train station."

"Come on," Demarco said quietly, setting off after the grey-haired man. "I want to see if we can get a look at these mysterious investors."

"Don't get too close," Etta said tensely. "I've got a bad feeling about this guy. What about the other one?"

"I've got her scent," Demarco said confidently. "We can find her again if we need to. I've got both their scents now. Come on. Keep up."

"Don't get too close, damn it," Etta repeated.

The Wolf inside Demarco snarled. The prey was only human. The Wolf would smell it if he was another Wolf, or a vampire, or even a witch. He was alone now and isolated. She could take him anytime she wanted. 

With a deep breath, Demarco steadied herself the way Rory had taught her. The Fury of the Wolf was like the ocean, Rory always said. A Wildfang swims in that ocean, she doesn't drown in it. Breathe and ride the tides. Don't let them pull you under.

---------------------------

"There he is," Demarco said later. 

They'd followed the grey-haired man from Cletus's house, across the ratty neighborhood to a bus stop. At Etta's insistence they'd continued past him to the next stop, keeping him just in view. Boarding the same bus, they'd kept him in sight and ridden across the city, while trying not to call attention to themselves. 

Only Etta's casual but firm grip on her hand had kept Demarco from stalking after him when the grey-haired man had finally gotten off at a stop near the old waterfront. By the time they reached the next stop, he'd been no where to be seen. 

Fortunately, Demarco had his scent.

"I knew you could track him," Etta said gently. "Any idea where he's going?"

Demarco shook her head. Once, the waterfront had been a bustling port shipping stone from the quarries and timber from the mountain logging towns to build the city of San My. Those days were long gone. Now the port was all but closed, leaving a rundown and rusted industrial wasteland with a few businesses and fewer homes. 

The grey-haired man seemed to be leading them toward the largest of those few local business.

"He's meeting someone," Etta pointed out.

"Is that Bess?" Demarco blinked, surprised.

"You know them?" Etta asked.

"I can't be sure without getting closer, but I think that's Bess Stirling," Demarco said. "Local entrepreneur. I don't really know her, know her, but I ran into her a few times back when I lived in the Harbor. She was kind of a nemesis of a friend of mine... that guy, Knox, I told you about. I always thought Bess was a little sketchy, but I never imagined her working with Cletus or someone like this guy."

"What now?" Etta asked. "It's too open for us to get closer without raising suspicion."

"I have an idea," Demarco smiled. "I caught a familiar scent a little ways back. Let's go see Beardy Bill. If anyone knows what's going on the waterfront, he will."

In Moonlight - Ch 7 - What's Going On?

"OK, what's going on?" Genie asked, half to herself, looking at the memory stick Jenny had brought her.

"You tell me," Jenny shrugged. "I go for my morning jog and end up meeting a spy, who tells me you're looking into things that powerful people don't want looked into."

Genie shook her head, confused.

After seeing Kassidy the evening before, she'd decided that her little sister needed her support. So, though she hadn't planned to, she'd decided to stay on and try to help. Fortunately, Stephens had come to the same conclusion ahead of her, and with his typical efficiency, had already started airing out the guest house, carried over her small travel bag and laptop, and fully stocked the kitchenette.

Her best idea for helping Kassidy was to understand what had happened to her friend, at least as much as random violence could be understood. So, setting up her laptop in the dinner nook, she'd started digging into the death of Shannon Charm. It had been slow going. 

Still, she'd never expected Jenny to turn up with this story about spies and coverups.

"No, seriously, tell me," Jenny repeated.

"I'm really not sure," Genie said as she led her into the dining nook. "I know that Kassidy's friend Shannon Charm was killed. The news reports, what there are of them, agree with what Kassidy told me. A mugging gone wrong. But thinking about it, that's weird all by itself. I mean, a gang mugging... much less one that turns fatal... in Gesellschafter Square? It's not exactly the Spice District back in the City.

"Then there is Shannon Charm herself. Kassidy says she was an organizer for Speak for the Trees, which is more than I've been able to find out on my own. Public records show a Shannon Charm, age 21... no arrest record, no university education, no job history, no driver's permit... about all I can find is a minimal but solid credit history and that she's a resident of Windenburg. It's like she doesn't quite exist in the world."

"Maybe she was a spy too," Jenny offered excitedly. "Ohhh... maybe she's in hiding. Living under a false identity like Miranda and Mariah are!" 

"Maybe," Genie mused, "but if she's Agency, why isn't the Agency able to investigate her death? Unless Candice was lying about that... but why would she? And if Shannon is in hiding, what's she doing leading a major pubic protest? I feel like I'm missing something important."

"Well, what's on the memory stick?" Jenny prompted.

"Right, let's have a look," Genie agreed, plugging the stick into her laptop.

"Ok, we have the police report, medical examiner's report, and a police background check," Genie said. "Where do you want to start?"

"Background check," Jenny said. "Maybe they got more than you could."

"OK," Genie said. "Let's see. No, this looks pretty much the same. Shannon Charm, age 21, born June 21, 2005. No arrests, no university, no job history, no driver's permit... wait a minute. Shannon Charm is the daughter of Darrell Charm. Baron Darrel Charm. He's a Lord of the Upper House. My dad's talked about him. The Charms are an old noble family. Like old money and old power."

"So, our murdered environmental activist was a member of a wealthy and powerful noble family,"  Jenny said. "Why isn't that all over the news?"

"Good question," Genie nodded. "Are the Charms burying it? Are the police covering something? Or... Well, there are a lot of possibilities."

"What's in the police report?" Jenny asked.

"Umm, a lot," Genie said. "Let me read for a minute."

Jenny fidgeted while Genie "hmm'd" and "oh'd" for a time. Finally, she couldn't take the waiting. "Well, what does it say?!" 

"Sorry," Genie said. "OK, the big things we didn't already know - First, there was a witness. A woman named Jade Rosa saw the whole thing! According to her statement, a woman in a black hoodie approached Shannon, spoke with her briefly, and when the woman walked off, Shannon collapsed. She died before Ms. Rosa could call for help.

"Second," Genie continued, "the original investigator on the scene was almost immediately replaced. It looks like the new investigator, a Detective Inspector Glass, changed the direction of the investigation to focus on street crime, completely dismissing the witness statement and the medical examiner's... the phrase he uses here is 'wild speculations.'"

"So there is a cover up," Jenny said eagerly.

"I'm going to give that a solid maybe," Genie nodded. "Hang on, I want to look at the medical examiner's report... see what 'wild speculations' Inspector Glass is dismissing."

"Well, don't keep it to yourself," Jenny insisted.

"OK, OK, give me a minute," Genie said. "So according to the medical examiner, Shannon Charm was stabbed three times in the torso, with blows striking the lungs and heart. She would have died quickly... which lines up with the witness statement. Aha! Here we go... He stresses the precision of attack and speculates that the killer likely has military or covert operations training."

"Holy shit," Jenny breathed. "So... we have an environmental activist, who is the daughter of a wealthy and powerful noble family, murdered by some kind of trained assassin, and someone in the National Police is covering it up."

"Yeah, I think maybe we do," Genie agreed.

-----------------

"Thank you for taking the time to talk to us, Ms. Rosa," Genie said.

After a restless night, Genie had awoken even more determined to uncover the truth about the death of Shannon Charm. She still wanted to find Kassidy some answers, but she admitted to herself that her reporter's instincts were smelling a story here. Maybe a big story.

Jade Rosa, who turned out to be an analyst at an investment firm located near Gesellschafter Square, had been relatively easy to track down. Even better, she'd quickly agreed to meet Genie at a nearby coffee house during her lunch hour.

"I'm happy to help," Ms. Rosa replied. "It's just horrible what happened to that poor young woman. It's like Representative Friend has been saying... crime just getting so bad these days."

"Actually, I think crime rates are down," Jenny pointed out. After staying the night in the guest house, the actress had shown no intention of going back to the City, tagging along instead. Genie had to admit that she didn't mind the company.

"Well, that's what the Unity government would have you believe," Ms. Rosa huffed. "But, clearly, there is a serious crime problem. I mean, a nice young woman like that... even if she was obviously a radical... killed in the street, right in front of the Von Windenburg Bank. I mean, it's just so shocking."

"Thank you again for your time," Genie interjected smoothly, before the two of them could get any further into a political argument. "I don't want to keep from your day any longer."

"Well, if there is anything else I can do," Ms. Rosa said, rising.

"I have your card, and you have mine," Genie said smoothly. "If you think of any other details, please don't hesitate to email me."

"I certainly will," Ms. Rosa nodded. "I'm sure you'll get the real story out there, Ms. Elderberry. I voted for your father, you know."

"I know he appreciates that," Genie said with completely false cheer.

"So, did we actually learn anything new there?" Jenny asked as they left the coffee house. "Other than that Ms. Rosa is an Axis voter and she doesn't know you don't support your father's politics, that is."

"We learned that what she told us matches what was in the police file you got from Candice," Genie said, walking over the nearby fountain. "That's at least partial confirmation of Candice's information. That's important. Especially since DI Glass's office just forwarded me to the police media liaison, who just repeated the official story."

"Why do people fall for Mr. Friend's bullshit?" Jenny mused, obviously still stuck on her interrupted political argument with their witness.

"Because he's offering Peace and Order, Stability and Tradition," Genie said, tossing a coin in the fountain for luck. She felt like they could use some. "Those sound like good things. They can be good things. You know, my dad was a good guy once. Sure he was always kind of stuffy and conservative but that's not bad, necessarily. Lately, since he's gotten involved with Mr. Friend and the Axis, he's become willing to hurt a lot of people to get power and stay in power. That's what I have a problem with."

-----------------

"Do you really think you can get in?" Jenny asked.

After the coffee house, they had taken the bus out into the rolling hills above Windenburg. This open, parklike countryside had been preserved from the steady expansion of Windenburg's urban sprawl by virtue of tradition and the wealth and power of the old aristocracy, who were determined to keep those traditions alive.

"I'm not sure," Genie admitted, looking up at Stoneridge House, the antique Windenburg mansion of the Charm family. "It can't hurt to try. We're just here to offer Baron Charm our condolences... and if the Elderberry name works in my favor twice in one day, I'll take it."

The butler who answered the door was rail thin and so pale that at first Genie caught herself wondering if she might catch a glimpse of fangs when he spoke. She didn't, but there was definitely something odd about him. He looked younger than Genie herself, except for his eyes, which looked too knowing for someone that young. He had clearly been trained in the same traditions of service as Stephens. He'd also clearly taken extra coursework in Advanced Snotty.

"Can I help you?" he said in a tone that was anything but helpful.

"Ms. Genie Elderberry and Ms. Jenny Poole," Genie said, offering her card. "My father, Representative Rohan Elderberry, is a colleague of the Baron's. We've come to offer our condolences to the Baron for his recent loss."

"Elderberry?" the butler repeated, as if tasting the name on his tongue and finding it unpleasant. "You are Ms. Genevieve Elderberry, daughter of Luna Villareal."

"Yes, that's... that's right," Genie nodded.

"You dare to come here," the butler snarled, naked fury burning away his professional disdain like wildfire. "You have the audacity to set foot in this house. No Villareal is welcome here! Get out or I will take great pleasure in removing you myself!"

"OK, I was wrong," Genie said as they walked away. "It did hurt to try."

The rain was coming down harder now, soaking the wild green country around the old manor house. She'd been quiet since their startling ejection from Stoneridge House, letting Jenny lead the way without really wondering where they were going. 

"What was that about?" Jenny asked gently.

"I don't know," Genie admitted. "I mean, I know the Baron and my dad aren't exactly friends or even political allies. I mean they aren't even in the same House. Upper House nobles and Lower House representatives usually just meet at dinner parties. I have no idea what could have offended the Baron that much... unless..."

"Unless?" Jenny prompted, stopping.

"He didn't say Elderberry," Genie said. "He said Villareal... mom's maiden name. 'No Villareal is welcome here.' ... and there's something else...

"When I first arrived and mom was being a bitch about Kassidy being upset, she said 'Associating with people like... Shannon Charm, only leads to pain and grief.' No, she said 'especially people like Shannon Charm.' It almost sounded as if she knew Shannon."

"Or maybe she knew the Charms," Jenny offered. "Clearly there's some history between the Charms and the Villareals?"

"Except the Charms are old aristocracy, and Grand-père Villareal was a gangster," Genie replied.

"Yeah, because gangsters and aristos never have anything to do with each other," Jenny said sarcastically.

"Jenny, what if this does have something to do with gangsters?" Genie asked. "What are we getting into here?"