#quoriaserial

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CLICK HERE to be redirected to ECHO, the interactive Chapter 1 Epilogue. It features Lalli, a mage and nominal member of the City Watch, investigating the scene of the crime with his partner, Teddy. Yeah, that crime.

Standard Quoria content warnings apply.

Chapter 1.15 ↢ || ↣ Chapter 2.1

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Chapter 1.01: Ten Dollars Is Worth More Than You Think

Colton startled awake at the sound of the doorbell, nearly falling out of bed. He scrambled to find his shoes and pulled on a nearby jacket that matched the cheap suit he’d slept in, hoping that it would hide how wrinkled his shirt was. Checking his pockets, he was relieved to find his glasses, and slipped them on, chancing a quick glance in the mirror. The lenses were smudged, and he could really only make out his messy, auburn hair. He ran a hand helplessly through it as he hurried downstairs. It would take a better detective than him to figure out how to make his hair lie flat. 

The sun was shining through the windows of his little office, and he realized, belatedly, that he’d overslept. A woman was waiting outside, smoking, judging by her silhouette in the translucent glass window that was set into the top half of the door. She smiled sweetly at him when he unlocked the door, and swept inside. The beaded fringe of her dress shimmered as she walked over to help herself to the ashtray on his desk. When she’d put out her cigarette, she turned to him and smiled again. It was odd of her to be done up in evening wear first thing in the morning, but he couldn’t deny that it suited her.

“You must be Mr. McKinley. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “I’m-”

“Miss Fortuna,” Colton blurted out, before he could help himself. He’d heard of her. As far as fortune tellers went in the city, she was supposed to be one of the best. And pretty, too. Her dark hair was cut stylishly short, and appeared to be naturally wavy. The mole under her left eye was dark enough to match her hair, and helped to accentuate her makeup.

“That’s right,” Miss Fortuna said, clasping her hands together and practically beaming at him. “I heard about your services through a friend of mine. You helped them find their cat a couple of weeks back. They were so dreadfully upset when she’d gone missing, you know.”

Right, the cat. It had taken Colton the better part of a week to find the stubborn thing, and she’d clawed up his arms something fierce. Not a job he would’ve liked to take, but he wasn’t in a position to be picky. He was only just managing to scrape by with the odd jobs people hired him for, like tracking down lost pets and the occasional cheating spouse. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills. It kept the electricity in the little apartment above his office going, and it put food on the table.

“Are you missing a pet too?” he asked, already fearing the worst. His forearms ached at the thought of tracking down another cat.

“Me? Oh no, I don’t have any pets. Too much work, I’m afraid,” she said. “But I have lost something, and I’m hoping you can help me find it.”

“I’ll certainly try,” he said, relieved. He felt more in his element now that he knew what Miss Fortuna wanted. It was easier to deal with clients when he had a goal in mind. It helped him figure out how he ought to talk to them, and what they wanted to hear. He stepped past Miss Fortuna, heading over to his desk to sit down and rummage around in the drawers for a notepad and a pen. The drawers were disorganized and full of things he’d pocketed and forgotten. He sifted through old receipts, expired trolley tickets and unused napkins. “What was it that you lost, exactly?”

“A necklace,” she said, taking a seat across from him. “It was my grandfather’s, and I miss it dearly. I don’t particularly care who took it, I just want it back.”

“You think someone took it?” he asked, picking up his notepad and hastily scrawling down everything Miss Fortuna said.

“Oh yes. It’s very important to me,” she said. “I would never just leave it lying around somewhere.”

“Did you report it missing to the city watch? If it was stolen, they could help keep an eye out for it,” he suggested, and Miss Fortuna laughed.

“No, darling, I didn’t. It would be awfully embarrassing if word got out about this.” 

“Why would it be embarrassing? People get robbed all the time,” Colton said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“People get robbed; fortune tellers do not. As silly as it sounds, people will believe that I’m some sort of charlatan for not being able to mystically prevent my own robbery. It’s bad for business, which is why I’d like you to look into this discreetly. You can manage that, can’t you?” 

“I- yes, I can do that.” 

“Wonderful,” she said, smiling pleasantly.

“So, uh, about what size is it? And does it have any distinctive features?” Colton asked, scrambling to get back on track.

“I’d say it's around ten centimeters or so,” Miss Fortuna said, approximating the size with the space between her thumb and forefinger. “It’s made of dark wood, cut in a thick, crescent shape. There’s a round crystal embedded into it, sort of like a marble. It’s got some carvings on it too, but I don’t know what they are. It’s an old piece, you understand, and they’re awfully worn out.” 

“When was the last time you remember seeing it?”

“Oh, two or three days ago. I wore it when I went out with a couple of friends for a night on the town, and it was gone when I got home.”

“Do you remember where you and your friends went that night?” 

“Not particularly. We had a couple of drinks. Maybe more than a couple,” she said, hiding a giggle behind her hand. “After that we wandered around town for a few hours, and then headed back to my shop. I don’t know exactly when it went missing, but it was gone the next morning.”

“Do you think one of your friends might have taken it?”

“That’s what I’m paying you to find out, darling.”

Colton plucked a business card off of the top of his desk and handed it to Miss Fortuna. It was a plain, barebones sort of card, with his contact information printed neatly onto the thick square of paper.

“If you remember anything else, please give me a call,” he said. “The more information I have to work with, the faster I can track down your necklace.”

“Of course, darling,” she said, briefly examining his business card before slipping it into her purse. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions now?”

“Feel free,” he said.

“Can I see your hand?” she asked, extending one of her own. Colton was quick to settle one of his hands on top of her palm, and she laughed, reaching up to turn his hand upside down. “Lets see here… Yes, I think you’ll do quite nicely,” she said, humming as she traced the lines of Colton’s palm with a manicured finger. 

“Next time I’ll write my resume on there,” he joked.

“You already have, darling.” She traced a long, curved line from his wrist all the way to the skin between his thumb and forefinger. “This tells me that you’re a dependable sort, and these extra lines next to it are good luck. And you’re missing a fate line.”

“I hope that’s not a dealbreaker.”

“Quite the opposite. It means your life and your actions are always your own. Fate has no influence over you. That’s a wonderful thing for a detective such as yourself,” she said, glancing up at Colton with a brief smile. He couldn’t help but feel a little flattered, and he wondered if that was intentional on her part. “Now tell me, when were you born?”

“The third of Solaris,” he said, bemused. Usually clients asked him about his background, or what hours he worked. They didn’t ask to read his palm, or for his birthday - although he was glad his palm was supposedly saying good things about him. 

“So you were born under the Gambler. Are you a betting man, Mr. McKinley?”

“In this line of work, I have to be,” he said with a laugh. This was easily the oddest interview he’d ever been a part of.

“Good answer,” she said, smiling. “I’m sure that confidence serves you well.” 

“I like to think it does,” he agreed. “If I didn’t have the confidence that I could solve my cases, I wouldn’t be in business.”

“A fine point. What’s your rate?”

“Ten dollars a day, plus expenses,” he said easily. “You pay the first ten upfront, and the rest after I investigate your case.” He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to mention his rate earlier. Clearly he still had some waking up to do.

Miss Fortuna nodded along to his explanation, and pulled a ten dollar bill out of her purse, which was thin and beaded, and matched her dress. She folded it neatly in half and pushed it across the desk to Colton with a single, manicured finger.

Colton slipped the money into his pocket and escorted her to the door. He waited until her footsteps faded to lock it behind her, and rushed back upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, nearly tripping over his own feet. Finding Miss Fortuna’s necklace was going to be harder than finding a crooked constable on the city watch. Between the ice-cold trail and the relatively innocuous necklace, he had his work cut out for him.

|| ↣ Chapter 1.02

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CHAPTER 2.1: Right Place, Wrong Time

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.” 

Chapter 1 Epilogue ↢ || ↣ Chapter 2.2

[quoria]

Miss Fortuna's Latest Horoscopes! Find them in a paper near you.

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Chapter 1.15:

Colton woke to the nauseatingly strong smell of antiseptic and bleach. His head was still throbbing, with an ache that had worked its way closer to a migraine. Screwing his eyes even further shut, he grimaced and tried to worm his way deeper under the somewhat scratchy, linen sheet that covered him. When he finally forced himself to crack his eyes open, he could barely tell where he was.

The hospital room came to him in pieces. The too-bright lights left Colton stunned, his eyes watering until his vision adjusted. His bed was situated in the middle of the room, and there was a window with a radiator pushed up against it to his left. A pop of color drew his attention to the nearby nightstand, which displayed a vase of colorful flowers, and several cards that Colton assumed were sympathetic.

An IV drip was on his other side, connected to his right arm. It took a long moment for him to realize that it was tugging at his skin, preventing him from comfortably burrowing under the covers. Colton tried to remember how he’d gotten here, and each step in the right direction took a monumental amount of effort. His head ached at the memory. Thinking was difficult, like his thoughts were surrounded by a thick syrup.

The necklace. Oliver. The motel. Sasha. The dilapidated motel room, and the feeling that he was about to drown. His blood staining the carpet. The necklace in his hand. Reilley.

Reilley.

He had to find Reilley. If anyone could tell him what had happened, it would be Reilley. Carefully levering himself into a sitting position, Colton winced as darkness crept into the edges of his vision. The room spun, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the vertigo to subside before trying to move again. 

It was a frustrating, endless process. He’d manage a couple of inches before vertigo and nausea swept over him like a wave, leaving him breathing raggedly and clutching the bedsheets with sweaty palms. He wanted to give up, he truly did, but now was not the time for that. Not with so much at stake.

Seconds dragged into minutes, and it felt like an eternity before Colton managed to toss one of his legs over the side of the bed. He screwed his eyes shut in anticipation of the latest inevitable bout of sickness, balling up his hands in the sheets.

“Oh, sweetheart! You shouldn’t be up!” 

An unfamiliar, uniformed nurse scurried into the room, and Colton startled when his leg was suddenly lifted back up onto the bed. Vertigo hit him hard, and he felt dangerously close to throwing up on the nurse as they pushed his shoulders down to lever him back against the mattress. He squirmed weakly, and the nurse released him, but their hands were back just as soon as he tried to sit up again. The nurse wasn’t even pressing down hard. It was agitating and a little humiliating to be pushed around so easily.

“I gotta go,” Colton slurred, his tongue feeling as if someone had run sandpaper over it. The nurse was blurring in and out of his vision, pitching back and forth as if rocked by the waves of a ship.

“No, no,” the nurse said with a polite, if strained smile. Colton couldn’t read the name on their badge. All of the words seemed out of focus. 

The moment the nurse backed off, Colton pushed himself right back up into a sitting position and nearly toppled right off the side of the bed. A pair of familiar, strong arms caught him. A handful of words were exchanged, and Colton was left with a calloused hand pressing down on one of his shoulders, lowering him back down to the bed. When he finally managed to open his eyes again, Mabre was leaning over him. And she looked angry.

“What in god’s name do you think you’re doing, McKinley?” she demanded, scowling. It took Colton far longer than he would have liked to process the question.

“Which god?”

“Pick one,” Mabre said, her expression dangerously close to a snarl. “Pick one and pray, because you are in so much trouble. I told you to come to me if anything happened, I told you-” 

“Where’s Reilley?” Colton asked suddenly, interrupting. Mabre paused, brows furrowed. She was still angry, that much was clear to Colton, but apparently putting himself in the hospital had earned him a little extra consideration. 

“At the station. He’s been taken in for questioning regarding the death of Sasha Mirazykh,” she said.

The news knocked the wind out of Colton. It hit him just as hard as a physical punch to the gut would have, if not harder.

“That’s not Sasha’s last name,” he said, because it was all he could bring himself to say. Sasha’s betrayal was so fresh, and it hurt at least as much as his head. He was so disappointed in himself, so upset that he hadn’t seen through Sasha sooner. Stupid, stupid-

“It is his last name,” Mabre said, jarring Colton out of his train of thought. “He was using the last name of his cousin while he was in Quoria. I assume you’re familiar with Kaleb Strizhakov?” She didn’t wait for Colton to answer before continuing. “He’s been helping us deal with the fallout of all of this. A foreign prince dying here in Quoria doesn't look good.” 

Colton didn’t know if Mabre was aware of the fact that he’d sent Kaleb to the embassy as a distraction so that he could meet with Sasha, but he decided not to volunteer the information. He was in enough trouble as it was.

“What happened, Colton?” Mabre asked plainly. She was back to using his first name, and relief swept through Colton.

“After I caught Oliver tailing me,” he said slowly, still feeling plenty ashamed of turning away the help when he’d actually ended up needing it, “I went to a hotel to meet Sasha. It was scheduled for demolition in old town.” 

“That’s where we picked you up,” Mabre confirmed. “Why were you meeting Sasha there?”

Colton had a decision to make. He could continue to lie to Mabre to hide the fact that he had been working for Madeline, or he could come clean in the hopes that it might help with this case. He remembered having the necklace at the crime scene, but it was gone now. Did the city watch pick it up? Did Mabre know about it? If anyone found it, there was no telling what sort of assumptions they might make. Magical items were coveted, and often dangerous - or in this case, deadly.

“I was doing a job,” he said miserably, ignoring the flash of guilt that pooled in his chest as he decided to leave Madeline’s name out of it. It didn’t feel good to lie to Mabre when she was so concerned about him, but couldn’t bring himself to drag Madeline into all of this. “A client lost a necklace. It was very important to her, and probably magical. I thought Kaleb took it, and Sasha agreed to help me get it back. I was meeting up with him for a hand off.”

Mabre looked angry again, and Colton could assume that she had a fairly good guess as to who his client was. 

“And then?” she asked, tone more than a little clipped.

“And then Sasha hit me. I was going into the office to meet up with him, and then… I woke up on the floor.” It was surprisingly terrifying to think back and recount the events that had landed him in the hospital bed. It must have shown on his face, because Mabre’s expression softened somewhat. 

“I could hardly see, and I remember feeling like I was drowning. Sasha was in the bathroom, filling up the tub. I don’t know why. We talked, but I don’t remember what we said. He kicked me in the head,” Colton said, wincing at the memory. “Reilley showed up after that. I don’t know how he got there, but I’m glad he came, because otherwise I’d be dead.” His throat felt tight, and he forced himself to take a few shaky breaths.

“What happened after Reilley came?” Mabre asked with as much tact as Colton thought she was capable of, which was not much. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and she had a funny little frown, like she wasn’t sure what expression she ought to be making. It was almost enough to put Colton at ease, to know that this one thing hadn’t changed when the world itself seemed as if it had flipped upside-down. 

“There was splashing,” Colton recalled. “And slipping too. The whole bathroom must have been full of water. I thought Sasha was going to drown me in the tub,” he admitted with a choked, watery laugh. He didn’t realize he’d been crying until Mabre fished a handkerchief out of her uniform and offered it to him.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping his eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for crying. You’ve been through a lot,” Mabre said stiffly. 

Colton hadn’t just been apologizing for his tears, though. He was sorry for not cooperating with Mabre, sorry for sending Oliver away, sorry for any numbers of things that had caused him to end up in that hotel room with Sasha, hurt and alone and afraid. Mabre’s kindness only ended up making him cry harder.

“Detective Darling, don’t tell me that you’re bullying poor Colton in the hospital. He’s had a difficult day,” Reilley said from the doorway. Oliver was standing next to him, looking somewhat apologetic.

Before Mabre could open her mouth, Reilley strode into the room. On the side of the bed opposite Mabre, he carefully took the handkerchief from Colton’s hand and wiped Colton’s tears away for him.

“You’re doing an awful lot of crying today, my dear detective,” Reilley said with a smile. He took Colton’s hand and gave it a squeeze, at the same time pressing a small, round object into Colton’s palm. Colton stiffened in surprise, but otherwise forced himself not to react. “You should be at the station,” Mabre finally said, accusatory. 

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a witness, not a suspect. It turns out that acting in self-defense isn’t as illegal as I feared it was.” Reilley said smoothly. “Sasha’s death was an accident. As I told you at the crime scene, he slipped on the wet floor during our scuffle and hit his head. The coroner apparently agrees with me.” Reilley smiled. “Constable Goodkind is here for my safety, as I understand it. I’ve been told tensions run high during diplomatic incidents.” Mabre seemed unsatisfied with Reilley’s answer, and while she grilled him on the details, Colton took the chance to look at what Reilley had given him. It was a round crystal, mostly devoid of color. There was a crack down the middle that spiderwebbed into a smaller cracks throughout, and for a moment he lost himself in trying to follow the pattern. This was the marble-like crystal from the middle of Madeline’s necklace, it had to be. Colton hadn’t thought for a moment that Reilley would have picked it up, but it was a relief that he had.

“What have you got there?” Mabre asked, snapping Colton back to reality. She was staring at the marble. Reilley raised his eyebrows at Colton as if asking him if he’d really gone and exposed what he’d snuck in.

Colton paused. Then, concussed and panicked, he acted on the first idea that came to his mind. He quickly brought his hand to his mouth and let the marble drop inside, swallowing it like a pill.

The room went silent, and then burst into an uproar all at once. Mabre was yelling, nurses came running, and even Reilley looked stunned. All the noise made Colton’s head hurt even worse, and he allowed himself to do the only thing that would allow him to escape the situation.

He passed right back out.

Chapter 1.14 ↢ || ↣ Chapter 1 Epilogue

[quoria]

Chapter 1.13: Fake It 'Till You Make It

Just as Sasha had predicted, Kaleb was on the southern shore of the massive river that divided Quoria - although calling it a true shore was generous. The original sand and silt had eroded away over a century ago. The city had done its best to preserve what was left of the shoreline with a low, sheer wall of concrete concrete; but when that had proved an eyesore, they’d covered it up with cobblestone.

Colton could relate. At times he felt he’d never truly escape his past, and that people who looked closely couldn’t help but find the rough patches where the conman in him shone through. He could only hope that Kaleb wasn’t one of those people.

“Kaleb!” Colton called out, straining to focus on the situation at hand. He couldn’t stop thinking about finally getting the necklace back, about this case finally coming to a close. It had only been two days, but it felt as though it had lasted months. 

Kaleb had been leaning on the railing of the retaining wall, looking out at the river. The hustle and bustle of the city was nothing more than distant background noise here. He turned when Colton called, looking briefly surprised to be addressed. “Colton! What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t take you for someone who likes to slow down and enjoy the scenery.” 

Kaleb’s tone was cheerful, friendly even, but Colton couldn’t help but think that Kaleb sounded suspicious of him. Was he projecting, because he knew Kaleb was guilty? He hoped so. The alternative - Kaleb knowing that he was up to something - was too nerve wracking a thought to linger on. 

“I was looking for you, actually!” Colton said, because all the best lies started with a kernel of truth. He hurried the rest of the way over to Kaleb, and lowered his voice as if he were divulging a secret. “I saw you at the bar last night, and didn’t see if you got out okay when the watch rolled in.” 

“I thought I saw you there. You were with Jude, weren’t you? She throws a good punch.” Kaleb said with a laugh.

“Yeah! And you were with, uh - I don’t actually know who you were with.” Colton said, with a veneer of forced cheer.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kaleb said dismissively. “I was just there for the entertainment.” 

Colton didn’t like how Kaleb described betting on (or against) Jude’s match as entertainment. His palms felt sweaty, and there was a bad taste in his mouth. 

“But you did make it out okay?” he forced himself to ask, repeating his initial question.

“Oh yes, I’m perfectly fine,” Kaleb assured him. “Someone erased the scores from the wall before the watch could get a good look, so there was no solid evidence of an organized fight. They kicked a few people out for being drunk and disorderly, but there was no real harm done.”

Normally, Colton rooted against the watch. They stuck their nose in everyone’s business, and frankly, as an ex-conman, some habits (like fleeing from the authorities) were hard to break. But in this particular case, he was disappointed that no one had seen any real consequences. After meeting Jude, it was obvious to him that the bulk of the fighters were only participating because they desperately needed the money. There was no sport in something like that. Not unless one happened to be the sort of wildly rich person who enjoyed watching poor folks beat the snot out of each other. Few people who were down on their luck had the skills to be a conman like he had been.

“That’s a pretty lucky break,” Colton said, wondering just how long he could hold Kaleb here with conversation alone. Another minute or two at best, if he had to guess. That wasn’t nearly enough time for Sasha to get back home, let alone search Kaleb’s room.

“It was,” Kaleb said, smiling briefly.  “Thank you for checking in on me. It was nice seeing you again.”

“It was nice to see you too,” Colton said. It was clear to Colton that the conversation was rapidly dwindling down to obligatory pleasantries. He needed to think of something, and fast. He was certain that Kaleb trusted him to some degree, and he could exploit that trust…but Kaleb was also a politically powerful individual, and if anything went wrong with his and Sasha’s plan, there would be hell to pay for it.

On the other hand, Kaleb was getting ready to walk away. If he said anything, it would have to be now. 

“Oh! I almost forgot - Sasha said he was looking for you? I met him outside Miss Fortuna’s place. Someone smashed all the windows in, and he was pretty upset about it. It was actually a little scary,” Colton admitted with a sheepish laugh. “I was so glad to see you weren’t in lockup that it slipped my mind.”

Kaleb was frowning, but Colton had his full attention. Presumably because Sasha was terribly sweet on Miss Fortuna, and had enough political power to start real trouble over it. The lie had just enough truth behind it to hold some real weight, although the implication that Sasha was about to start a whole mess of trouble for Kaleb helped too. People didn’t look too closely at the details when they were panicked. 

“Did he say where he was going?” Kaleb asked. Colton didn’t think he’d ever heard Kaleb sound so concerned before, and he would’ve felt bad about it if he wasn’t certain that Kaleb had been the one to smash Miss Fortuna’s windows in the first place. It wouldn’t look good for Citarik to have two of their nobles starting an incident abroad, and it would look even worse for the guilty party involved. 

“I’m not sure. He kind of ran off in a huff,” Colton said apologetically. He tried to look as though he were thinking awfully hard. And he was! But he was thinking about how sending Kaleb on a hopeless errand would buy more time for Sasha. “I think he mentioned something about the embassy?” 

“Thank you,” Kaleb said quickly. “I should go see if he needs any help.”

“Good luck! I hope you catch whoever broke those windows.” Colton said on reflex, immediately mad at himself for being so cheeky. He hoped it had come out sounding genuine.

Thankfully for him, Kaleb left in too much of a hurry to pay his comment any mind. It could still come back to bite him later, but if Sasha worked quickly, then it wasn’t something he was going to have to worry about.

Colton lingered to watch Kaleb disappear in the direction of the Embassy before starting towards the meeting place Sasha had picked out; An old building that was due to be torn down any day now. Construction workers wouldn’t be a problem on weekends like today, and they wouldn’t have to worry about the building coming down around their ears either. Plus it was secluded, which was the most important part. If anyone saw Sasha handing off the necklace, they might get the wrong idea. Or worse, tell Kaleb what they saw. 

The historic district of the city was littered with old buildings, and Colton saw more and more of them as he made his way further in. Lots of brick buildings and old gas lamps that had been refitted with light bulbs. A lot of preservation work went into the main street, but not so much the side streets and the old suburbs. There was even a famous old city watch station still in operation, although he went out of his way to avoid that.

Still, Colton couldn’t shake the sense that he was being followed. At first his nerves made him think it was Kaleb, but that didn’t make sense. Kaleb had believed him so completely that he’d practically run off, and in the right direction too. That meant someone else was tailing him, or he was developing a sense of sudden, onset paranoia.

Likely the latter. And if he was wrong, well, that was something he could get looked into. In an attempt to lure out his pursuer, Colton ducked into one of the many worn out alleyways that littered this district. As soon as he was sure he was out of sight, he sprinted to the other end and turned the corner, pressing himself back up against the dirty wall.

A pair of footsteps stopped at the mouth of the alleyway, and then suddenly started up again as someone sprinted down the end of the alley. Bracing himself for the worst, Colton waited until they had just turned the corner to jump out in front of them.

Oliver shrieked and tried to course correct, but ended up tripping over his own feet and sprawling onto the ground.

“Oliver!” Colton said, immensely relieved to find that the man was not Kaleb, or some cutpurse with a knife. Jumping out in front of a potentially armed stranger was a terrible idea.

“Don’t jump out at people like that!” Oliver said as he got to his feet, dusting off the front of his uniform. Judging by the way he was moving, he had a few new scrapes beneath it.

“Don’t tail people!” Colton shot back. “Why are you following me?”

Oliver flushed red up to the tips of his ears, embarrassed. Clearly getting caught had not been a part of the plan. And there was no way to deny what he’d been up to either, not after following Colton down a deserted alleyway in the middle of old town. 

“I’m just doing my job.” He said weakly.

“Yeah? Who told you to follow me?” Colton demanded. Oliver was silent, so he tried again. “There’s no way it’s legal for you stick your nose in my personal life without a reason. It’s harassment, at least.”

“It’s not!” Oliver said, visibly unable to contain himself. “Mabre said you might’ve gotten yourself into trouble, and that I should watch you. It’s like protective custody, without the custody part.”

“I didn’t ask for your help. And I don’t want it.” The fact that Mabre knew something was amiss was troubling. But even so, this case was about to be solved just as soon as Oliver minded his own business. That was the watch for you. It was like they were making it their personal mission to bother him.

“But-”

“No! Go back to Mabre right now and tell her to knock it off, or I’m going to file a formal complaint with the watch captains.” Colton was not going to do any such thing, but apparently the threat of getting the captains involved at all was enough to make Oliver back down. 

“We haven’t done anything wrong. Filing a complaint will just make a lot of paperwork,” Oliver said, wilting somewhat at the idea of it.

“It’ll leave a mark on your records if it goes through,” Colton said. “And I’m willing to file as many complaints as it takes. You can’t just follow people around without asking! It’s- It’s unethical!” He had no idea if that was true, but he was upset, and he knew that officers hated having words like unethical and immoral thrown at them. Especially in writing.

“I don’t think it is…” Oliver said, looking more and more worn down as the conversation went on. “I’m just trying to help you, Colton.”

“And I appreciate that, I do. But I don’t need your help right now. I don’t know what you and Mabre think is going on, but I don’t want you following me around like some sort of criminal. It’s not a good look, Oliver! I get that I used to be a conman, but I’m trying to do better now, and getting followed around by an officer in uniform is not going to help me. People are going to think I’m up to something, or that I’m dangerous!” Despite Oliver’s bad timing, he was genuinely upset about being followed without his consent. The watch had made him plenty nervous back when he was actually doing cons, and that anxiety had never gone away.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said, defeated. He looked very much like a dog that had gotten into the bin and been caught in the act. 

“Just go. I need a little time alone right now.” 

Oliver looked like he wanted to say something else, but he closed his mouth and shuffled off towards the main street.

Colton waited for Oliver’s footsteps to fade into the distance, and took a few deep breaths. In, out. In, out.

He could be upset about this later. Right now he needed to find Sasha.

The feeling that he was being followed lingered even after he course corrected and started moving again. He stuck to the back alleys the best he was able, even though he knew that he’d caught the person tailing him already. A few extra twists and turns made him feel more secure, so he took them wherever it was possible. 

The meeting place was an old, brick hotel that had long since fallen into disrepair. Colton lingered in the nearest alleyway, but plucked up the courage to enter after one last glance behind him. He hurried to the front door and pushed it open, stepping inside. 

Dust was everywhere, and he could clearly see a set of footprints on the floor. Sasha’s, he hoped. He followed them behind the front counter, past the abandoned keyrack, and into the manager's office.

There were footprints everywhere in this room, as if someone had been pacing around the old desk in the center. He noticed that one set of footprints went behind the door.

He turned to look, but something hard smacked into his temple. His vision flickered as he fell to the floor, and he caught a glimpse of expensive, leather shoes before everything turned to black.

Chapter 1.12 ↢ || ↣ Chapter 1.14

[quoria]

Chapter 1.12: I'm Having A Hard Time Coming Up With Chapter Titles That Aren't Spoilers But Trust Me It's Good

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.”

Chapter 1.11 ↢ || ↣ Chapter 1.13

[quoria]

Chapter 1.11: My Dear Detective

Colton dashed down the street, woefully underdressed, with hair that was still damp from what had been the fastest shower of his life. He’d been forced to forgo his one good suit for dark slacks and a shirt that weren’t covered in a visible layer of grime. His socks were mismatched, and one of the straps of his suspenders had been twisted around the wrong way.

The Lion’s Head Pub was too close to warrant waiting for a trolley, but far enough that he had to have been nearly twenty minutes late by the time he spotted the brick building. The storefront was practically all windows showing off the many tables inside, and even the door was made of mostly glass, with the name of the pub in vinyl lettering near the top.

In his hurry to meet Reilley, Colton wrenched open the door and ran right into someone who was exiting. He apologized profusely, stepping out of the way and tuning out the man’s scolding as he looked around the room for Reilley. Thankfully Reilley’s blonde hair made him easy to pick out of a crowd, and Colton found him sitting at a table for two near one of the windows, staring right back at him. 

Colton flushed and hurried over, sliding into the seat opposite Reilley. There was a glass of water and a glass of soda on the table, both clearly having been there for awhile, judging by the condensation that had gathered on the outside of the glass. He instantly felt worse about making Reilley wait, and took a drink of his somewhat watery soda as he tried to catch his breath enough to apologize.

“Don’t worry, I can tell you didn’t intend to stand me up,” Reilley said, looking Colton over.

“I didn’t mean to - I would never,” Colton said, floundering.

Reilley laughed. “I didn’t think you would, my dear detective. You had a rather hectic evening, if I recall.” 

“I did, yeah,” Colton said, feeling even more flustered all of a sudden. My dear detective, that was a new one. 

“I’m glad to see that you got home in one piece. I’ll admit, I was somewhat concerned.”

“Is that why you made up plans with me?” Colton asked. He was getting some mixed signals from Reilley about whether or not this was a date, but everything with Reilley made him feel like he was out of his depth. He had a feeling that was how Reilley liked it.

“Let’s just say that if you hadn’t shown up, I would’ve known exactly who you were with when you’d gone missing.” Reilley said, smiling around the rim of his glass as he took a sip of water.

“That’s- well, that’s actually pretty clever.” Colton said, pausing as thought about it. He seriously doubted that Sasha of all people was a threat to his safety, but Reilley’s line of thinking was sound.

“Thank you. I do try,” Reilley said with another polite smile. It looked to Colton as though he might’ve had something more to say, but the waitress drifted over, bringing the conversation to a halt.

“Would you like a refill on that?” The waitress asked, motioning to Colton’s glass. Somehow he’d managed to drink the entire thing over the course of his conversation with Reilley. Running all the way to the pub was thirsty work.

“Please. And I could I get an order of fish and chips as well?” He hadn’t eaten anything since the night before, he just hadn’t slowed down enough to realize it until just then. Hadn’t so much as glanced at the menu, either, but any self-respecting pub in Quoria had fish and chips.

“Sure thing, hon. And can I get anything for you?” she asked, turning to Reilley.

“I’ll have the shrimp and lemongrass soup, please.”

“Good choice. Let me grab that refill for you,” the waitress said. She took Colton’s glass after she finished scribbling down their orders, and returned with a full glass only moments later. She placed it in front of Colton with a smile before hurrying off to check on her other tables.

“So, you wanted to make sure I got home safe? That’s nice of you,” Colton said, refocusing on Reilley. 

“I think it was a reasonable concern, considering you were chased into one of my dressing rooms last night.” Reilley said, smiling wryly.

“Things got a little out of hand with that case I’m working on.” Colton admitted.

Reilley raised his eyebrows. “Only a little? I would hate to see what it would look like if things really spiralled out of control. I hope you at least found a lead for all your trouble.”

“I did, actually!” Colton said, immediately perking up. He lowered his voice and leaned forward, not wanting anyone else in the pub to overhear what he was about to say. “I’m pretty sure Kaleb Strizhakov stole the necklace I’m looking for.”

“My, my. And you still let Sasha walk you home last night?” 

“Sasha’s harmless,” Colton said defensively. “Just look at him. The guy couldn’t hurt someone even if he wanted to.” 

“Looks can be deceiving.” Reilley said.

“You can’t really think Sasha’s dangerous. Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” Colton said, taking the opportunity to tease Reilley, a poorly hidden smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Perish the thought,” Reilley said, perfectly composed as always. “I assume you’ve given up on getting that necklace back?”

“What? No. I’ll figure something out. Aren’t you aren’t going to ask me how I know it was him?”

“Did you want me to?” Reilley asked, sounding amused. He laughed softly at Colton’s expression, clearly having caught him off guard. “I’m only kidding, detective. Tell me, how do you know Kaleb is your culprit?”

Colton was embarrassed, but not embarrassed enough to keep his mouth shut. Not when Reilley was going out of his way to indulge him - although he was careful to keep Madeline’s name out of his explanation. “He’s got motive, means and opportunity. He doesn’t like my client or their work, and he’s strong enough to have vandalized some of their property. With his connections, he could have easily done it without getting caught - and he’s familiar with my client’s place of business. He knows his way around, so he could have broken in and found what he was looking for relatively quickly.”

“And he’s the sort of person to solve his problems with violence, I suppose?”

“Yeah. He’s into bloodsports. Fight clubs, that sort of thing. He likes betting on them, it’s how he gets his kicks. I saw it myself. But how did you know that?” 

“Lucky guess,” Reilley said with a shrug. “Resorting to vandalism on top of theft implies a certain amount of anger is involved.” 

“You’re right about that,” Colton said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not going to be easy to get the necklace back from him. How do you accuse the royal family of theft?”

“I would say you’re better off giving up.”

“That isn’t very helpful.” Colton frowned.

“Neither is picking a fight with the royal family. I’d suggest telling your client what you know and leaving it at that, for both of your sakes. Nothing good ever came of causing a diplomatic incident.” Reilley said, with the tone of someone who had caused enough of them to know better. He’d caused at least one, Colton knew that much. Reilley had admitted as much when they’d first met over lunch.

The conversation came to a halt a second time as their waitress returned with their food, and Colton picked at his fries, thankful for the extra time to think of a response. Yes, going after the royal family was foolish. Downright stupid, really. He would end up starting a diplomatic incident if he got into trouble, or worse, Kaleb might try to hurt him. But he couldn’t stand to let Madeline down, especially not now that he knew the culprit. One way or another, he was going to get that necklace back.

“Just try to be careful if you’re determined to do something foolhardy,” Reilley said, surprising Colton yet again with how adept he was at picking up on nonverbal cues.

“I’ll be careful. I’m not about to do anything outrageous.” 

Reilley eyed him doubtfully.

“I can be careful,” Colton said, just a touch defensively. “I’ll be the most careful man this side of the river. You’ll see.”

“The whole point of being careful is not to be seen.” Reilley pointed out, finally starting in on his soup. “Do try to remember that.”

Chapter 1.10 ↢ || ↣ Chapter 1.11

[quoria]

Chapter 1.10: New Friends In High Places

“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.

Chapter 1.09 ↢ || ↣ Chapter 1.11

[quoria]

Chapter 1.09: I Keep Hitting Escape But The Cops Are Still Here

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. 

Chapter 1.08 ↢ || ↣ Chapter 1.10

[quoria]

Chapter 1.08: SINK OR SWIM

“Sink or Swim?” Colton suggested, much to Madeline’s obvious dismay. He could feel her nails digging into his arm. 

“Yeah, alright,” the scorekeeper agreed, fishing a cigarette out of their pocket, along with a lighter. “Jude, go get some dice, wont’cha? And a deck of cards while you’re at it. Pretty sure Rocco’s got some.”

“Benny-” Jude started, only to have them cut her off.

“Go on, now. I’d hate to see you lose your camera.” 

The threat was implicit. Jude didn’t say anything else, instead turning and heading for the man that had been speaking with Kaleb. 

Colton felt bad for her. Asking her to go talk to the man who’d just beaten her in a fight was just rubbing salt in the wound. He looked away, focusing on Benny instead. They were tall, but not as tall as he was - but then again, most people weren’t. Their hands were smeared with chalk, their hair slick with pomade, and they were dressed simply in a white button up, suspenders and brown slacks. Benny grinned at Jude and Rocco when the two glanced over, lighting their cigarette and taking a quick puff.

“So, which kind of Sink or Swim are we playing?” Colton asked, and continued once Benny shrugged at him. “I was thinking two dice and a deck of cards, with a three round set.” 

“That’s fine by me,” Benny said with a shrug, much to Colton’s relief. 

“I’ve seen a couple of games, but I’ve never actually played before,” Colton admitted sheepishly. “Is it as easy to play as it looks?”

“Oh yeah, it’s real simple,” Benny assured him, taking another puff as Jude returned with the dice and cards. They were polite enough to exhale away from the group, leaving a trail of smoke to drift towards the dumpsters. “I’ll even lay out the rules real quick for you, if it’d make you feel better.”

“It really would,” Colton said, practically exuding gratitude. It wasn’t hard to fake, especially once Madeline loosened her vice-like grip on his arm. 

“Alright, so, here’s the deal: We’re gonna roll two dice, one black, and one white,” Benny said, helpfully holding up the dice Jude had fetched as an example. “The white dice is worth points, and the black dice subtracts ‘em. Goal is to get as close to fifteen as you can without going over, because if you do, you lose the whole set.”

Colton listened attentively, watching Benny with a certain wide-eyed earnesty that had come after years of practice. “What about the cards?”

“You can draw a card between each round, if you want. Hearts and diamonds, you gain points. Spades and clubs, you lose points. We take out the face cards before we play, so don’t worry about those.” 

“That sounds simple enough,” Colton agreed. “Any other rules I should know about?”

“No, you’re all set. Let me go dig up something flat for us to roll the dice on. Don’t go anywhere,” Benny said in what was undoubtedly meant to be a friendly tone of voice, but actually came off as threatening. 

“Do not blow this,” Madeline hissed into Colton’s ear the moment Benny was out of earshot, having to stand on her toes to do it.

“Your lack of confidence wounds me,” Colton said, frowning a touch dramatically.

“You don’t even know how to play!”

“Of course I know how to play,” Colton replied quietly, voice dropping to practically a whisper as Benny made their way back over. They had a thick piece of cardboard tucked under one arm, and they tossed it to the ground in front of Colton.

Taking the hint, Colton took a seat, silently hoping that whatever was on the ground of this alley wouldn’t require the help of a dry cleaner to remove from his clothes. He watched Benny shuffle the cards after they’d taken a seat opposite him, trying to discern if they were cheating from they way they moved the cards around. It didn’t look like it, but it was also awfully dark out, making it hard to tell for certain.

“I’ll let you go first, seeing as you’re the beginner,” Benny said generously. 

Going first was both a blessing and a curse, and it was obvious to Colton that Benny was trying to get him to make a mistake early on in the game. The chances of winning first were low, but the chances of losing? Much higher. And if he lost, Benny wouldn’t have to take their turn at all. They’d just get a free win. 

“Thank you,” Colton said, forcing himself to smile as he picked up the dice. He tested the heft of them in his hand, and shifted them around like he was shaking them, when in actuality he was maneuvering the dice to the numbers he wanted, and trying to keep them as far apart as possible. It was dark, and he was quick, gently tossing the dice onto the cardboard. 

The dice rolled twice, and then the black dice rolled a third time, by itself. So close. The cardboard was either a harder surface than Colton had assumed, or he’d thrown with too much force. It had admittedly been awhile since he’d tried to manipulate dice by throwing them, and these weren’t dice he was familiar with, but he’d had years and years of practice. 

Still, a white five and a black four was not the start he’d been hoping for. 

Benny whistled. “Tough break.” 

Colton drew a card to try to make up for his roll, only to draw the ace of clubs, leaving him with a grand total of zero points. His face fell, and Benny laughed.

“It’s only the first round. Lighten up a little,” Benny said, undoubtedly cheered by Colton’s terrible first turn. They rolled a white six and a black two, leaving them with four points. There was really no need to draw with a great roll like that, so they didn’t bother. Didn’t even pretend to consider it.

“Good roll,” Colton offered, trying to sound optimistic as Benny pressed the dice back into his hand. “Sure hope some of that luck rubs off on me.” 

He tried to manipulate the dice again, but he only had so much time to do that without looking suspicious. The result was a white four and a black two. Better than his first round, certainly, but Benny still had quite a lead on him.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” He heard Madeline ask Jude from somewhere behind him.

“Better than zero,” Jude said simply. 

Benny rolled a black two and a white one. A roll that knocked them down to three points, putting them that much closer to Colton. It was the sort of roll that Colton would’ve chosen to draw on, and Benny seemed to consider it, staring at the top of the deck intently before passing the dice wordlessly off to Colton.

“Not gonna draw?” Colton asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Nah. I’ve still got one point on you,” Benny said, grinning.

Colton rolled a black two and a white three. Finally, he was tied with Benny. He drew a card, hoping to pull away with a lead, only to end up right back where he’d started. The three of spades. Zero points.

“Tough break,” Benny said, as though they were aware of an inside joke. They rolled, and came up with a pair of ones. Snake eyes. 

“Looks like this round is mine,” they said, obviously pleased with how things had played out.

Colton wondered about the card he’d drawn, and resolved to keep a closer eye on the deck going forward. It just seemed strange that Benny hadn’t wanted it, not even when it might have been advantageous to them, and he liked to think he knew a con when he saw one. It could’ve been paranoia, of course, but if the deck was marked… 

He took the dice and started the next round off smoothly. Black two, white six. Four points. That was more than he’d made in the last round combined. Deciding to risk it all, he drew a card from the deck too, and breathed a sigh of relief when it turned out to be the four of diamonds. 

“Eight points! Better watch that you don’t go over,” Benny said as Colton examined the card for just a moment longer than necessary before adding it to the discard pile. 

Colton passed the dice to Benny, and with a black six and a white five, they ended up with negative points. That was, until they drew a card from the deck. They hadn’t even hesitated, like they’d planned to do so all along. 

“Looks like I’m at eight too,” they said, setting a nine of hearts down in the discard pile. The design on one of the corners was peeling. 

Colton rolled again. This time, he ended up with an extra three points, setting him at eleven. He didn’t dare draw a card, not when he was still trying to figure out how they were marked. Passing the dice off to Benny, he chanced another look at the deck as they rolled, desperately trying to commit it to memory.

“That’s ten for me. I’m catching up,” Benny warned Colton, pulling his attention away from the cards. The dice were being pressed into his hands, and he hadn’t even looked to see Benny’s total. Since when had he gotten so sloppy?

“I’d better watch out,” he agreed, trying to focus on keeping the black dice low rather than maneuvering the white dice. He was really only in trouble if the white came up as a six, and even then, only if the black dice was a one - which was what he was aiming for.

It seemed as though his dice rolling skills weren’t gone after all. The black dice came up as a one, and the white came up as a four, leaving him with a grand total of fourteen. 

“I think I’m gonna stay with this,” he said, and Benny frowned.

“Yeah, I would too,” they admitted, taking their turn at the dice. Their frown deepened when they rolled a black five, and a white three, leaving them with only eight points. Apparently whatever card was in the lineup next was safe to draw, and they did so, leaving Colton very, very nervous.

Just when Colton thought his heart might leap up his throat, they sighed and set the card down. The five of hearts. That meant he’d won the round, if only by a single point. He could feel Madeline’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, and he took some comfort in her touch. 

Silently, he took the dice and rolled. 

A white six, and a black one. Five points. The best possible roll in the game. If he drew a ten along with it, then he could win the whole game in one fell swoop - but the card at the top of the pile looked pristine. There was no wear on the edges, no peeling design, and no way Colton could take that risk.

“Not gonna go for a quick win?” Benny asked, raising their eyebrows at him as they took the dice. They seemed almost disappointed.

“It’s not much of a tiebreaker if you don’t get to roll too,” Colton pointed out. 

And roll Benny did. A black three and a white six. They chose not to draw as well, which made Colton feel certain that he’d made the right call.

They continued to roll without drawing any cards. Black three, white three. Black four, white two. Colton stared much too hard at the dice before making his last roll, desperately hoping for the same roll he’d made at the start of the round.

Perhaps it was because he had Madeline with him. Miss Fortuna, Lady Luck herself, was truly helping him, because he rolled exactly what he’d needed. A black one, and a white six.

Benny looked terribly frustrated when he handed the dice back over to them. Their final roll fell just shy of Colton’s, leaving them with eleven points to his thirteen. They shoved the camera at Colton, and he fumbled, trying not to drop it. 

“I won? Aren’t you going to draw?” Colton asked, feigning innocence.

Benny gave him a dirty look, and drew a card, tossing it down onto the cardboard without looking at it as they got to their feet. The four of clubs stared back up at them, silent, almost mockingly so.

Madeline tugged Colton back to his feet, and took the camera from him as if concerned he might drop it, quickly handing it off to Jude. 

Jude seemed to be struggling to find the right words when the sounds of breaking glass attracted the attention of everyone in the alley. There was another loud smash, like someone had broken a tankard over one of the tables, or perhaps dropped it on the floor, and then another. And another.

“City Watch! Nobody move!” Came the dull roar of Mabre’s voice from inside the bar. There mere sound of her activated Colton’s fight or flight response. He grabbed Madeline and Jude by the wrists, and took off towards the dumpsters that sealed off the end of the alley.

Chapter 1.07 ↢ || ↣ Chapter 1.09

[quoria]

Chapter 1.07: BAD TIMES AT BIG BARTONS

It was dark by the time Colton and Miss Fortuna - Madeline, she’d insisted after she’d changed into something more casual and less recognizable - made it to the bar. The Hard Times Bar and Saloon was a big place, popular and crowded. Booths ringed the edges of the room, and tables were set up near the dance floor in the center. A handful of musicians were tuning up their instruments in one of the corners, presumably the night’s entertainment. 

Big Barton, owner and proprietor, stood behind the main counter. He was built like a fridge - muscular, with a fat stomach, and a thick beard. His brown hair was looking more gray than brown these days.  When Barton smiled, his whole face lit up, and he smiled often. His two missing fingers alluded to a checkered past, but he was on the straight and narrow now, same as Colton. 

Barton grinned and waved as Colton walked past, and when he noticed Colton wasn’t alone, he shot him a thumbs up and a wink in silent encouragement. His easygoing nature hadn’t changed for as long as Colton had known him, not even when he’d been running his own gang. Thankfully his temperament was more suited to bartending than it was to highway robbery. 

“It’s not a date,” Colton hissed under his breath as they passed the bar in search of a table, a little flustered at the mere idea of a date. Barton’s big, booming laugh faded into the ambient noise of the room as they passed him.

Madeline took the initiative to order their drinks, leaving Colton to find an empty table for them. The room was filling up fast, but thankfully he managed to snag one of the few remaining booths against the far wall, near the back door. Hints of smoke filtered in from out back whenever someone walked in or out of the building, and Colton coughed a little as he tried to get used to it. Not the best seat in the house, but any seat was better than none.

Reappearing with a drink that was so vibrantly mint green it hurt Colton’s stomach just to look at it, Madeline made herself at home in the seat across from him. She pushed a glass of brown pop across the table to him, and he nearly took a sip out of habit, pausing with his mouth halfway to the straw. 

“It’s not-” 

“It’s not alcoholic,” Madeline interrupted, finishing his question and answering it all at once. “I figured it was better than water.”

“Oh- Thanks, Colton said, surprised. He paused to take a sip of his drink, enjoying the familiar, sweet sensation of the carbonation against his tongue. He’d had a soda with lunch, but his day had been so hectic that lunch felt as though it had happened a week ago. 

“You’re welcome, darling,” Madeleine said as she sipped at her own mint green concoction - a grasshopper, probably. She looked stressed and tense around the edges. 

Colton thought that she might be less stressed if she let him work on the case instead of dragging him out for drinks, but he assumed that she hadn’t felt safe being alone. With the possibility of one of her own clients after her, it made sense that she’d want to get out of the shop for a while, and dress down so that people wouldn’t recognize her. Not that doing so was going to solve any of her problems. Sometimes people were funny like that, seeking comfort in the wrong things.

“You come here often?” he asked, wondering why she’d chosen this particular bar.

“No, not particularly,” she said, making a valiant effort to invest herself in the conversation, even though her heart clearly wasn’t in it. “Not that this place isn’t nice, it’s just that I wanted to go somewhere new.” 

“You picked a good place. I’ve been here once or twice, and it’s always pretty packed. People pressed together like sardines in a can,” Colton said, pressing his hands together to make his point. “I don’t think anyone is gonna be looking for you here.” 

He hoped that was the right thing to say, the right issue to address. There was a lot of pressure on Madeline from both herself and her clients to constantly maintain her image. And now that her image was the center of all this new trouble… It complicated things.

Madeline smiled, and Colton relaxed for all of half a second. Then the back door opened as someone stepped outside, and he happened to hear a few words in what was becoming an all too familiar voice. 

Colton’s heart sank. Of all the bars in Quoria, why had Kaleb had to choose this one?

Naturally, Madeline had heard Kaleb too, and shared a glance with Colton across the table. She nodded towards the door, silently asking if they ought to go take a look. The door swung open again, and this time the sound of a meaty smack, like someone had taken a particularly hard punch, came through.

Colton scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for the door, leaving his soda abandoned on the table. Madeline was hot on his heels, and nearly ran into his back when he stalled the moment he’d stepped outside. 

The space outside the back of the bar was roomier than any alley Colton had ever seen. Dumpsters were pushed off to one side, blocking the space off from the street, which may have had something to do with it. A few folks were smoking near the door, and a couple were playing dice by the dumpsters. What had caught his attention was the fifteen or so people had formed a loose semi-circle around the back of the alley. There were a few cheers, a few whistles, and Kaleb was there, looking thrilled to be a part of the action. If Colton strained, he could hear the sounds of a fight happening.

He hurried over to join the crowd - mindful of Madeline’s hand on his arm - and pushed his way to the front. Two people were going at it, using the crowd as their fighting ring: one a lean young man who was quick on his feet, and the other a short-haired young woman with a bloody nose and the start of what appeared to be a black eye. There was a smeared collection of tally marks on the wall. Someone was keeping score.

“And, you’re out, Jude,” said a person holding a stick of chalk as the woman - Jude - took another hit. They drew another neat tally on the wall, leaving the latest score at five to two. 

Jude sighed, and fished her wallet out of her pocket, counting out the few bills she had. 

“Fine. Here,” she said, her expression somehow neutral despite her injuries. She held the money out for the scorekeeper to take, and Colton risked a glance at the other brawler. He was talking to Kaleb, and they were splitting money between them. Kaleb had enough money that this was undoubtedly nothing more than entertainment for him, but there was no telling what everyone else's stakes in this little fight club were.

“Hey- you can’t take that,” Jude protested, drawing Colton’s attention right back to her. She and the scorekeeper had moved off to the side where several bags were pressed up against the wall, presumably for safekeeping. “I need my camera. I lost, I paid up - I need that for school.” 

“That’s rough,” the scorekeeper said, unsympathetic. “Consider it a down payment, okay? You can keep fighting the rest of the night on this. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to kick you out. You don’t even have enough to cover your last loss.”

Jude stalled at the threat, and Colton saw his chance to jump in. 

“Hey, how about I play you for that camera?” he said, acting without thinking, as usual. “Jude- Jude’s a good friend of mine, and she really needs that for school. You’re not gonna deny her an education, are you?” He was really laying it on thick, and hoping desperately that Jude would keep her mouth shut. 

“You want to go up against me for it?” the scorekeeper asked, glancing Colton up and down appraisingly.

“I want to play you for it,” Colton corrected them. “I wouldn’t have a shot against you in a fight. Look at me, I’m all bones. You could tear me apart,” he said, gesturing to himself. He was tall and twiggy, and unsuited for fighting. Madeline seemed to think so too, judging by the way her grip on his arm tightened. She was trying to subtly tug him away, but Colton was having none of it. Playing up his own weaknesses and making the scorekeeper out to be the stronger opponent was boosting their ego, he could tell. “A smart fella like you plays dice, right? What do you say? One round, winner takes all?”

“Sure, alright. I guess I can indulge you,” the scorekeeper said, like they were doing Colton a favor. “But what do I get if I win?”

“Ten dollars,” Colton said, regretting it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. That was all the money he’d been paid at the start of his job. It was supposed to last him a week or so, until he could close the case. That way he didn’t starve, and his lights didn’t get shut off by the power company again.

“Deal,” the scorekeeper said, snapping up the opportunity before Colton could back out.

Chapter 1.06 ↢ || ↣ Chapter 1.08

[quoria]

Chapter 1.06: Time To Sell Some Fortunes

The bell above the front door rang, the sound echoing throughout the shop and cutting Miss Fortuna off. 

“I hope we aren’t interrupting anything,” Kaleb said as he entered the parlor, holding the door open for another, smaller man who hurried in behind him.

“Not at all,” Miss Fortuna said with a practiced smile. Colton couldn’t help but be impressed with how much effort she put into running her own business singlehandedly and making it look, well, effortless. “It’s nice to see you again, Sasha,” she added kindly.

The man behind Kaleb - Sasha, presumably - flushed at the attention. 

“It is n-nice to see you as well,” he stammered, his Citarin accent very pronounced. He clearly came from money, probably foreign money, if his accent was anything to go by. His windowpane suit was expensive, and hand-tailored from the looks of it - nothing mass produced ever fit quite that well, especially not when someone was as slender as Sasha. Just like Kaleb, his teeth were so white that they practically shone when he smiled.

“He could hardly wait to get here, he’s been talking about it all day,” Kaleb said, unhindered by the betrayed look Sasha sent his way. “His birthday is coming up, you know. I think he’s hoping for a good fortune.”

“Quiet, Kaleb,” Sasha hissed, embarrassed, accent thicker than ever. He elbowed Kaleb gently in the side.

“Hoping for good fortune is nothing to be embarrassed about, darling,” Miss Fortuna said easily. “It would be a sad day if a client ever came in hoping for a bad future.” 

She gestured for Sasha to join her, and linked arms with him, leading him over to the armchair Colton had been sitting in just minutes ago. 

“I trust you two don't mind waiting in the lobby?” she asked Colton and Kaleb, in a tone that implied it was not a request.

“Not at all,” Kaleb said with a smile, leading the way out of the room.

Colton hurried out of the room on Kaleb’s heels, catching just the beginning of Miss Fortuna’s appointment with Sasha. 

“Did you want to ask about anything specific today?” she asked, voice already starting to fade behind him.

“Luck in love?” Sasha asked, nervously tucking a strand of curly, blond hair behind one of his ears. Miss Fortuna’s response was cut off entirely as Colton closed the door behind him, now alone in the lobby with Kaleb. 

Much like the interior room where Miss Fortuna took her appointments, the lobby was decorated with plenty of draping wall fabrics, all bright, welcoming colors. There was a desk near the door where she presumably signed in her clients, judging by the clipboard and pens nestled on it between various crystals and pamphlets on different types of fortune telling. Colton assumed she could afford a receptionist, what with how popular her business was, but all of the notes and reminders were in Miss Fortuna’s handwriting. 

“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again quite so soon,” Kaleb said, taking a seat in one of the plush chairs that littered the lobby. He got comfortable, crossing one leg over the opposite knee before continuing. “I do hope you’ll keep my little trip to Harlow’s between us. That gift I bought was for Sasha, and I’d rather not give it away.”

“My lips are sealed,” Colton said automatically, sitting in the chair nearest Kaleb’s. “Is he a friend of yours, or…?” He remembered that Kaleb had mentioned buying a birthday gift back at Harlow’s, although he hadn’t said who it was for. 

“My cousin,” Kaleb said. “He’s got a terrible fascination with the occult. Hardly a week goes by without him going out to get his fortune read.”

“Is magic big in Citarik?” Colton didn’t know too much about it, other than what he’d learned in school: That Citarik was a small, mountainous country that exported a lot of ore, and had serious laws in place about damaging the few trees that had managed to grow there.

“Oh, not really. I think that’s just him. That’s not to say we don’t have stories back home; People like to tell their children about vengeful spirits to encourage them to behave. Old ghost stories, you know how it is. Or perhaps you don’t - have you ever been to Citarik?”

“I’ve never found the time,” Colton said. Or the money, but he had his doubts about whether or not Kaleb would understand money being an obstacle to travel. Everything from the way he spoke to the way he held himself radiated power and privilege. Nobility, most likely. Citarik did have a king. The only king with any real power over their country - the only king period, probably. History hadn’t been his best subject in school, but he remembered Citarik was in outlier in more ways than one. Most of the world had left monarchies behind them in favor of elected government officials well before he was born, and a number of revolutions had ensured that things stayed that way.

“Don’t fret, you aren’t missing much. It’s terribly cold in Citarik, and the mountain passes close up in the winter, so we don’t get many tourists. I’m not surprised you haven’t visited,” Kaleb said. He sighed, shifting in his seat. “If you ask me, most people there aren’t very friendly. No one to act hospitable for, I suppose. Nothing to do but play in the snow, and that gets awfully old once someone gets frostbite.” 

Kaleb didn’t seem terribly connected to his homeland. In fact, Colton thought Kaleb might have outright disliked Citarik, but he was smart enough not to make that observation aloud. If Kaleb really was a part of the ruling class, it wouldn’t be good to offend him.

“Is that why you came to Quoria? Not a fan of the snow?” Colton asked. But before Kaleb had a chance to answer, the door to the parlor opened and Sasha emerged, Miss Fortuna just a few steps behind him. That didn’t seem right. Surely a fortune-telling session should have taken much longer.

“It was lovely seeing you again, Sasha, darling,” Miss Fortuna said with a sweet smile.

Sasha nodded, but he looked a little forlorn, with just a hint of jealousy when he glanced over to Kaleb and Colton. It seemed out of place, and Colton took note of it. Then again, he had barged in unannounced just before Sasha’s session.

“I will schedule another appointment soon,” he promised.

“I already know. I saw it in the cards,” Miss Fortuna said with a playful wink that seemed to bolster Sasha’s spirits a little. “How does next Tuesday sound?”

“Perfect,” Sasha said, not even stopping to think about it. He glanced at Colton again, uncertain. “Unless you are busy…?”

Miss Fortuna followed his gaze. “With Mister McKinley? He’s that detective I mentioned, the one who found my friend’s darling little kitten.”

“Miss Mopsy?” Sasha asked, his gaze softening. “I can see why you went out of your way to meet him. There is no finer cat.” 

Colton tried very hard not to think of the claw marks on his arms that would undoubtedly scar. If he faltered, he felt that Sasha’s big, blue eyes would see right through him. 

“She was a real sweetheart,” he lied.

For a few seconds, Colton swore he could hear his pulse pounding in his ears as he stared back at Sasha. Usually people didn’t make him so nervous, but there was something about Sasha that threw him off - probably the fact that he was also foreign royalty, come to think of it. Finally, Sasha looked away to say his goodbyes, and Colton breathed a sigh of relief. He weakly waved the two cousins out from his seat, and practically melted into the plush cushions the moment the door swung shut behind them.

“You could’ve warned me they were coming,” he told Miss Fortuna as she took a seat at her desk, presumably jotting down the details of the appointment. 

“You were the one who came running in here demanding to talk to me,” Miss Fortuna pointed out. “I’m not obligated to warn you of the consequences of your own actions.”

She was right, but Colton didn’t like that she was. What a difficult client. “Just who was that anyway? He sure seemed to like you.”

“Sasha Strizhakov, one of my very important clients. He comes at least once a week, sometimes more. He’s sweet on me,” Miss Fortuna said without looking up from her notes. “I do wish his cousin wouldn’t encourage him. Asking for love fortunes is a silly way to ask someone out for a night on the town, and it never works. It’s just not in the cards for us.”

“You’ve turned him down before?” Colton asked, suddenly interested.

“Sort of. He’s never actually come out and asked me anything. Just danced around the subject and implied that he’s sweet on me. His luck in love fortunes are always terrible, you’d think he’d get the message by now,” she said with a sigh. “Some clients are just harder to get through to than others. It’s happened plenty of times before. I’ve been told I’m easy on the eyes,” she said, winking at Colton, who made a noble effort not to blush.

“Have any of these men given you problems before?”

“Don’t forget women. I’m quite the hot commodity, darling,” she said with a laugh. “Sometimes my clients take a fancy to me, but they don’t usually give me any trouble beyond disappointed looks. I don’t date any of my clients, and I try to make that clear. They tend to catch on pretty fast, but not always,” she said with another, longer sigh.

Colton considered this. Sometimes, people felt entitled to other people’s time and attention - and sometimes that turned people into something ugly. Something violent and possessive. It wasn’t something he often saw escalated to this degree, but Miss Fortuna was something of a celebrity.

 “Do you think the person who took your necklace could be a client of yours? A regular?” he finally asked. “It could be the same person breaking the windows. Maybe that was just a cover up for taking the necklace, some way to divert your attention.”

“One of my clients? I seriously doubt it. My regulars see me plenty without trying to break into my shop,” Miss Fortuna said, frowning. “You’re not trying to imply that Sasha did all that, are you?”

“What? No,” Colton said, quickly. “I don’t think he could have. He doesn’t look strong enough to go throwing bricks through your window. Or angry enough, if I’m being candid. But I’m sure you have other regulars who are stronger than Sasha, and more volatile. It’s worth looking into.”

Miss Fortuna was silent for a long moment. “You could be onto something, but I can hardly be expected to interact with my regulars normally if they’re all suspects. I just want my necklace back, I don’t care who took it.”

“You should care. If they took it once, they could take it again - and if it’s the same person who’s been breaking your windows-” Colton started.

“Then I’m in trouble, yes, I know,” Miss Fortuna interrupted tiredly. “This has all turned out so much more complicated than I’d hoped. I think I need a drink. Or several.” She paused, briefly considering an idea. “You should come with me, seeing as you’re so concerned for my safety. I’m sure I could use a chaperone in these dangerous times.”

“I don’t even drink,” Colton objected.

“That’s the whole point of a chaperone, darling. Do try to keep up.”

Chapter 1.05 ↢ || ↣ Chapter 1.07

[quoria]

Chapter 1.05: You Are About To Experience The Wrath of a God, Little Man

Colton straightened up and put on his best smile. 

“I tripped,” he said, pushing himself up and away from the files he’d been hunched over. Thankfully he hadn’t gone over to Oliver’s side of the desk, or the situation would be unsalvageable.

“You tripped right into an open file? I don’t think so,” Mabre said. Her tone implied that Colton was about to experience the wrath of a god if he didn’t come up with a better excuse than that. Then again, maybe that was just her normal tone. Mabre was known to be intense at the best of times.

“This office is so tiny I’m tripping over my own feet, here. And it’s not as though there’s any other part of the desk to grab,” Colton said, gesturing almost playfully to the desk’s cluttered surface. There wasn’t a single free inch of space. “I’m lucky I didn’t knock everything off of it.” Every good lie had a kernel of truth to it, and this particular kernel just happened to be that the desk looked like a tiny tornado had raced across its surface.

Colton straightened up and put on his best smile. 

“I tripped,” he said, pushing himself up and away from the files he’d been hunched over. Thankfully he hadn’t gone over to Oliver’s side of the desk, or the situation would be unsalvageable.

“You tripped right into an open file? I don’t think so,” Mabre said. Her tone implied that Colton was about to experience the wrath of a god if he didn’t come up with a better excuse than that. Then again, maybe that was just her normal tone. Mabre was known to be intense at the best of times.

“This office is so tiny I’m tripping over my own feet, here. And it’s not as though there’s any other part of the desk to grab,” Colton said, gesturing almost playfully to the desk’s cluttered surface. There wasn’t a single free inch of space. “I’m lucky I didn’t knock everything off of it.” Every good lie had a kernel of truth to it, and this particular kernel just happened to be that the desk looked like a tiny tornado had raced across its surface.

Mabre clearly wasn’t buying his excuse: her posture hadn’t relaxed in the slightest, and there wasn’t an iota of trust in her gaze - a telltale sign of a failed con. Luckily for him this wasn’t a con. He didn’t need Mabre to buy into anything he was saying, he just needed to prove that there was room for doubt, and hopefully that would be enough to get him out of the mess he’d landed himself in. Multiple files were open and scattered across the desk thanks to him, and the desk had been a right mess to begin with. It wasn’t as though he could change his story - that would be admitting that he’d been going through the files at all. He didn’t know what sort of trouble that would land him in, but he wasn’t eager to find out.

“Give me the file you were looking at,” Mabre demanded. 

“I wasn’t looking at any of them,” Colton objected, though he did move to hand her one of the files. Not the one on Miss Fortuna’s place, naturally.

“Not that one. The one closest to you,” Mabre said, sharp as ever.

“This one?” Colton asked, as though he didn’t know exactly which file she was referring to. This time he did hand over the file on Miss Fortuna, as reluctant as he was to do so.

Mabre took the file and skimmed it, frowning a little at the details. 

“You’re not involved in any of this,” she said. Like she was telling Colton to mind his own business and let the watch do their job. Fat chance of that. 

“Is that supposed to be a question?” he ventured.

“It’s supposed to be an order. The watch is handling it, and even if we weren’t, this isn’t a job for a conman.” 

“I’m a detective,” Colton protested. “I’ve been on the straight and narrow for ages. Don’t hold my youthful indiscretions against me!” 

“These cases aren’t games, Colton,” Mabre said, frustrated. “It’s different than tracking down lost pets, or catching cheating spouses.” Colton opened his mouth to respond, and Mabre shut him down instantly. “No. Shut up, listen to me. These are real crimes, and you could get hurt. Do you understand?” 

What a way to instantly ruin Colton’s mood. He felt as though he were a child being scolded by a teacher, and the feeling was made doubly worse by the fact that Mabre was visibly younger than him. 

“I wasn’t even looking at that file, or any file,” he said weakly, but he could tell that Mabre didn’t believe him. Not that he could pinpoint exactly why. He wished he had the opportunity to look at the file again, to see what might have made her so suspicious, but his chance had long since passed.

“Fine, you weren’t looking at the file,” she said, with a heavy sigh. “But if you just so happened to see anything in it, I want you to stay out of it. Promise me you’ll call the watch if anything comes up.” 

“Anything happens, I’ll call. I promise,” Colton lied as sincerely as he could manage. He could tell that Mabre didn’t entirely believe him, but that was alright. As long as he didn’t end up spending the night in a cell, a lot of things were alright.

[***]

“Why didn’t you tell me your shop got broken into!?” Colton demanded, throwing himself into the plush armchair across from Miss Fortuna. He’d gone straight to her shop after he’d left the station, looking for answers. Thankfully she hadn’t had any appointments just then.

Colton glanced around frustratedly, noticing the room for the first time while Miss Fortuna tidied up the cards she’d strewn across the table in surprise when he’d barged in. Rich fabrics in a variety of cool colors were draped across the walls, and there was a crystal ball on the table between the two of them. A deck of cards lay carelessly off to the side, and the whole room smelled faintly of herbs, or perhaps incense. There was a large window on one side, blocked off by thick curtains. 

“How do you even- no, don’t answer that. I clearly underestimated your detective skills,” Miss Fortuna said, frowning. “I didn’t think it was necessary to tell you about it because it was such a minor incident. Just some drunken vandalism. If you hadn’t noticed, my shop is near several pubs.” 

She was withholding information, trying to shut down Colton’s line of questioning as quickly as possible by feigning indifference. She didn’t even seem upset about the fact her shop had been vandalized. In fact, she didn’t seem to feel any sort of way about it at all. It was a type of lying that would have fooled the city watch, but it wasn’t good enough to fool him. 

“We both know it was more than that. What kind of drunk goes out of his way to find a hammer to smash the window with? The first two incidents, maybe, but not that one,” Colton said. He was frustrated, but even more than that, he was worried. Finding Miss Fortuna’s necklace wouldn’t mean anything if she got attacked in her own shop and he couldn’t give it back to her.

“I don’t see what this has to do with finding my necklace,” Miss Fortuna said, moving to shut Colton down yet again. He saw it coming, because of course he did. He used to be a conman for goodness sake, he could pick a fellow liar out of a crowd.

“We both know that isn’t true. Whoever’s been breaking in probably took it, and we both know it, so cut the act.”

Miss Fortuna’s frown deepened, and she almost glowered at Colton, upset that he was pushing the issue. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, refusing to speak for a long moment. When she did finally open her mouth, she didn’t look happy about it - but more than that, she looked tired. “Do you know how bad it looks when a fortune teller has her shop broken into? Three times in a row? Because it looks downright awful. I’m an independent, future-seeing woman, and if it gets out that I have some sort of vandalist stalker, it could destroy my reputation. This is my livelihood, not a game. I can’t afford to have someone breaking my windows and scaring away my regulars.”

She had a good point. Several good points. Enough good points that Colton would’ve felt bad snooping around in her business if she hadn’t paid him to do just that. 

“Now that we’ve got everything on the table...” he said, giving Miss Fortuna a pointed look, to which she did not respond. “Maybe we can catch this vandal and find your necklace. Two birds, and one less stone through your window.”

Miss Fortuna couldn’t help but laugh at that - a bit of dark humor could do wonders - and her expression became decidedly less surly. 

“I certainly hope you’re as good as my friend says you are,” she said, “or we’re both going to end up with rocks through our windows.”

“That just means we’re in this together, now,” Colton said.

“I suppose we are,” she agreed, smiling wryly.

Chapter 1.04 ↢ || ↣ Chapter 1.06

[quoria]

Chapter 1.02: A Horrible Way To Eat Clamstrips

Colton shifted on the diner’s vinyl barstool, drinking his second soda of the afternoon. It was a lot like sucking down liquid candy bars, but the caffeine helped him think.

Seagull’s Seafood was well lit and clean, with a red and white tiled motif covering the floor. A thin, neon light ringed the diner ceiling, giving off a red glow, and the jukebox in the corner was quietly playing a tune that Colton vaguely remembered hearing on the radio. Three quarters of a key lime pie sat on the counter nearest the register, under a heavy glass lid. Colton could hear food frying and sizzling in the back, and the waiter nearest the drink machine smiled at him. He flushed and looked back down at his menu. It was made of laminated, thick cut paper, and had various logos stamped onto it. There was a special for ten cents off the catch of the day: crab.

“Can I get you something to eat, sweetheart?” the waitress manning his section of the diner asked, having made her way back around to clear away Colton’s empty glass. “You can’t just have soda for lunch. Well, you can, but you shouldn’t.”

“I’ll have the, uh… crabcake sandwich, with extra tartar sauce,” he said quickly. He always felt like he was inconveniencing the staff if he took too long to decide - and he always took too long to decide.

“You want fries with that? And a refill on your soda?”

“Yes, please,” Colton said, relieved, as the waitress took his menu. Ordering at restaurants stressed him out. 

Drumming his fingers against his empty glass, Colton thought about the case. Lost items were difficult to track down, especially the less valuable ones, and Miss Fortuna’s necklace didn’t sound like it was worth much money. Wood and crystal were relatively cheap materials; it wasn’t as though she was missing gold and gemstones. 

There was also Miss Fortuna’s insistence that the necklace had been taken rather than lost. Taken by a fan, or perhaps a rival? Miss Fortuna had was rather popular these days, especially after she’d started writing horoscopes for the local paper. “Excuse me, are you quite alright?”

Colton startled, jarred back to reality, nearly knocking his glass off the counter. He felt like his heart was trying to jump out of his throat. 

“F-fine, thank you,” he managed, voice cracking as he straightened up in his seat, and moved his newly refilled glass to a safer part of the counter.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m terribly sorry about that,” said the man that had interrupted his thoughts. He was smaller than Colton, and broader, with olive skin and honey-blond hair. His eyes were rather striking; dark and warm, and wholly focused on Colton. “Your lunch arrived, and I thought you might want to know,” he said smoothly, in an accent Colton couldn’t immediately place.

Glancing down, Colton realized that his lunch had indeed been set down in front of him. A crabcake sandwich and fries in a red plastic basket, with a fresh refill of soda. He must’ve looked mystified, because the man next to him took pity on him and explained.

“The waitress brought it while you were staring at the wall, I believe,” he said. “It was a little after I sat down. I hope you don’t mind the company,” he added. The diner was starting to fill up for the lunch rush, but there were still a few seats he could move to. “No, not at all,” Colton quickly assured him. “I appreciate you snapping me out of it.”

“It was no trouble,” he said. He had a nice smile, Colton thought. “Ah, before I forget my manners, I don’t believe we’ve met. Reilley Briscoe, at your service,” he said, extending his hand.

“Colton- Colton McKinley. It’s nice to meet you,” Colton said, still scrambling to keep up. Two brisk shakes, and Reilley released his hand, which was when he realized that he’d heard that name before. He felt as though an electric shock had run through him, even though they were no longer touching.

Everyone agreed that Reilley was a tailor. He had his own shop, and a knack for alterations. The local rumor mill claimed that he was also something else. A spy, a traitor, even a member of the mob. He was charming and cunning; as handsome as he was dangerous. Supposedly, Colton reminded himself. Just because he’d heard as much from a handful of dock workers didn’t make it true. They were a superstitious bunch, and prone to gossip. It wasn’t like they had much else to do between unloading shipments.

 “The tailor?” he asked, just to be sure.

“You’ve heard of me?” Reilley asked in a way that seemed more amused than surprised. 

“Ah- just a bit,” Colton said, trying to backtrack. He’d hoped he could stop there, but Reilley was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Some people say you’re, uh, the eyes and ears of some rather notorious fellows.”

“Mister McKinley, you’re not intimating that I’m some sort of spy, are you?” Reilley asked, perfectly pleasant.

“I, uh, I wouldn’t know,” he said hastily. “It would hardly be fair to judge you based on gossip.” Colton knew all too well what it was like to be judged based on rumor, although he’d never met anyone attached to such fanciful rumors as Reilley.

“Very open-minded of you,” Reilley said approvingly.

“I try to be,” Colton said, gratefully taking the out that Reilley had so graciously given him. “The rumor mill would have us believe half the folks in the city are out to get us.” He paused as the waitress dropped off Reilley’s food, and took a quick bite of his crabcake sandwich, finally remembering it was there. “It’s not like anyone really gets chased out of Glouver these days.”

“I’m afraid that particular scrap of gossip happens to be more than just a rumor,” Reilley said, mild as could be, starting in on his own lunch: clam strips, which he ate with a knife and fork.

Colton nearly choked on his sandwich. He coughed, and took a quick swig of soda to wash it down, looking a little red in the face as he collected himself. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“It is a punishment reserved for treason, historically speaking,” Reilley agreed.

“You didn’t-” he started, brows furrowed.

“No, no, I would never,” Reilley said, almost offended at the implication. Apparently  being exiled from his home country hadn’t entirely destroyed his sense of loyalty to it.

“Then how?”

“There was a gardening mishap,” Reilley said, smiling a little at Colton’s expression of disbelief. “I used to be the gardener for one of our ambassadors. Very attached to his flowers, that one. Especially the roses. I thought he would enjoy a bouquet of them as the centerpiece for a dinner he was hosting, but as it turns out, one of the guests was allergic.”

Colton was aghast. “You can’t be serious.”

“And so my accident was turned into an assassination attempt,” Reilley continued, completely serious as he speared another clam strip on his fork.

“There is no way that actually happened.”

“I always thought exile by roses was a particularly poetic way to go,” Reilley said with a sad little smile that Colton thought was just a little too practiced.

“Do you even know how to garden?” Colton asked.

“I do, as a matter of fact. Did you know that plants grow better if you talk to them? I told the flowers at the ambassador's office all sorts of little secrets to get them to grow, and they turned out beautifully.”

“What sort of things?” Colton asked, leaning a little closer.

“That’s between me and the garden, I’m afraid,” Reilley said with a brief laugh. “As much as you may resemble a flower, you’re rather lacking in petals,” he said, glancing between Colton’s green tweed suit and auburn hair. He reached out to straighten Colton’s lapels before returning his attention to his meal. “I assume you’re not a gardner?”

“Detective, actually,” Colton said, a little surprised by Reilley straightening out his clothes, but writing it off quickly. Reilley was a tailor, he was probably used to fixing up peoples outfits.

“A detective! How novel. I don’t suppose you’re working on a case?” Reilley asked, delighted.

Colton nodded, picking at his fries. “It’s nothing too exciting. Just a lost piece of jewelry.”

“Even so, detective work sounds much more fun than tailoring. I’m sure whatever you’re looking for must be awfully expensive if you’ve been hired to track it down.”

“Actually, no. It’s a bit of an odd piece. It’s got sentimental value and not much else,” Colton said with a sigh. 

“If it’s as odd as you say, perhaps you should check Harlow’s,” Reilley suggested. Colton gave him an uncomprehending look, and he continued. “It’s an oddities shop over on Lourdes and 5th. If your item does end up being out of the ordinary, it might have found its way there.”

“Really?” Colton asked, a little excited at the prospect of a lead despite himself. “What sort of oddities do they sell?” 

“Harlow’s is an experience, my dear detective, and I’d hate to ruin the surprise for you. Suffice it to say that if your item is any sort of strange, you have a good chance of finding it there.”

Chapter 1.01 ↢ || ↣ Chapter 1.03

[quoria]

1st Edition of Miss Fortuna's Horoscopes! A new regular addition to your local paper.