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“Thank you, Maxi.” I didn’t want a speech on comparative country sizes, and Maxi was gearing up to a full-on lecture.
Turning back to the two sat in front of me, I said, “See. Unless you have the resources to survey that large an area…”
They hung their heads. They didn’t have resources. If they did, they wouldn’t have come to me.
I stood, intending to see them out when Dot appeared at my side in a blur of vampiric speed, a phone in her elegant hands.
“You’re going to want to take this.”
Frowning, I took the phone and listened to the breathless elf on the other side. I met the gaze of the two people still sitting at my desk.
“Looks like you’re in luck. Someone’s found a rogue manticore. We’re going to Breconia.”
Chapter Two
The Breconian nature reserve wasn’t too far from the human settlement of Brecon in Wales, but it had powerful magical shields to deter any mundanes that might wander in by accident and keep in the many dangerous creatures that lived there.
I parked the van with a screech of brakes in the huge carpark on the outskirts of the reserve. The elves made the excuse that modern vehicles couldn’t go any further in case it upset the delicate balance of nature or something, but I didn’t see them avoiding the internet or mobile phones.
Behind me, the two strangers who had given me fake names – John and James Doe. Come on. At least use some imagination – squirmed as they tried to figure out how to undo their seatbelts. I frowned. There was something off about these two.
“Just click the red button. Haven’t you used a seatbelt before?” I climbed out of the van and stretched, cracking my neck after hours of being cramped in the driver’s seat. Dot stood by my side, surveying the green valley that stretched out below us at the foot of the cliffs that housed the carpark. The dark forest nestled right in the centre of the dip housed the elven city of Breconia.
“What do you make of them?”
“Heartbeats are a little faster than a human’s, but that could be from your driving.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my driving. Anything else?” I trusted her vampire senses almost as much as my own, but she just shook her head.
“Something’s weird. They didn’t want the scarves.”
I turned my snort into a cough. Thanks to her vampire speed and passion for crafts, Dot turned out knitwear like it was going out of fashion. If it had ever been in fashion. That sort of catwalk wasn’t my thing; I stuck to business suits and sportswear. During the journey to Breconia, she’d whipped up a scarf for each of them, her needles having clacked in time with the nineties pop blaring out of the radio. They’d tried to refuse, but she’d pressed the woollen offerings into their hands with a toothy grin, and they’d backed down, holding the scarves up at arm’s length as they’d studied the knitting.
My phone beeped with an alert. It was Maxi – someone had to man the office, and he was our best researcher – sending through all the research he had found on manticores. First mentioned in Persian myths, they had the body of a lion and the tail of a scorpion. They were about the size of a lion, and so on – nothing I didn’t already know from a quick check of the magical species database. I closed the report as soon as I’d read the summary; I didn’t need a twenty-page essay on manticore sub-species. Should be easy enough to catch it with the elves’ help.
Our two guests managed to get out of the van. They now stood beside us, the scarves tied around their waists. Weird fashion statement, or did they not know what scarves were? I frowned. There was more to them than met the eye. But we had a manticore to track.
“Where is the manticore?” the taller one – I think it was James – asked.
I sighed. We were in elven territory now, had been ever since we had crossed through the magical barrier on the way to the carpark. I couldn’t just waltz in and demand to speak to someone about the manticore. We had to wait for them to come to us. Even if they had invited us. Anything else and there could be an incident, and no one wanted to aggravate the elves. They had a good propaganda campaign thanks to a flurry of high-fantasy stories in the twentieth century, but they lived for hundreds of years and could hold a grudge.
Above us, wings sounded, and the breeze brought the scent of big cat and bird crap to my nostrils. Sometimes my keen shifter senses were more of a curse than a blessing. Dot and I both tilted our necks so we could watch the elves approach. The other two copied us, and I wasn’t sure if they possessed supernatural senses too, or if they were trying to blend in.
The gryphons landed with a graceful thud on the packed earth of the carpark. A tall, slender elf slid off the first one. She was dressed in the golden uniform of the King’s Guard, complete with helmet and sword. Her armour had several dents and a large scuff down the breastplate.
“Which one of you is Agent Jones?” she demanded.
I stepped forward. “I hear you’ve got a manticore problem.”
“Captain Sylvana,” the tall elf introduced herself. She gripped my forearm in a warrior’s greeting. The gesture surprised me – elves normally bowed to strangers – but I returned it, testing her strength. We sized each other up for a moment before she released me. “I hope you’re ready. This is like nothing I’ve seen before.”
A fresh cut grazed her cheek, and her hand went to the scratch that dented the front of her gold uniform.
“Show me.”
“Mount up.” The elf gestured to the gryphons, and the half-eagle, half-lion creatures lay down at the command of their riders so we could mount them.
I noticed the unease of the two strangers, but then, riding a mythical creature wasn’t an everyday occurrence. I should cut them some slack. Except, I didn’t trust them as far as I could throw them. Bad analogy. I didn’t trust them as far as Maxi could throw them.
