"Some call it skill," I counter, keeping my tone light despite the threat humming beneath his words.
"Perhaps." He doesn't smile back. "Get some rest, Mathieson. You look tired."
CHAPTER 15
Monsters To Hunt
* * *
Astrid Mathieson
Nine AM finds me waiting in interview room six, twenty minutes early because preparation matters. Unlike the sparse interrogation rooms in the basement, this one's designed for cooperative witnesses—comfortable padded chairs, a polished wooden table, even a small side table with a coffee station. The two-way mirror remains, of course, but it's framed like an actual mirror, a small nod to the pretense that this is just a friendly conversation.
I've spent half the night reviewing Rossi's file. Thirty-two years with GUIDE, twenty of them specializing in chimera containment. Retired after a mission in Prague went sideways, resulting in the deaths of two junior agents. The official report cites "operational differences with leadership," which usually means he told someone important to go fuck themselves.
Just the kind of person who might actually tell me the truth.
The door opens, and Ghost slips in, carrying a cup of coffee from my favorite cart outside the office building. His split lip looks better today, but the bruising I know he suffered to his ribcage in Rome makes his movements careful, deliberate.
"Thought you could use this." He slides the cup toward me. "Rossi just cleared security downstairs. Sherlock's already behind the glass."
I take the iced americano, grateful for both the caffeine and Ghost's quiet support. I glance at the two-way mirror, wondering how long Sherlock's been standing there, analyzing my every move. Probably arrived twenty minutes early just like me. At least both my partners aren't out to get me. "Thanks. Any word on our temporary replacements?"
"Williams and Reyes." He makes a face. "Williams is all tactical, ex-military. Reyes is tech, communications specialist. They're both competent, but..."
"But they're not us." I finish for him.
"They're playing it by the book. Following standard containment protocols." Ghost lowers his voice. "Problem is, nothing about these chimeras is standard."
I nod, understanding his concern. These by-the-book agents won't adapt when faced with chimeras behaving so far outside established patterns. They'll follow protocol right into a body bag. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
"You think Rossi knows something he didn't put in his reports?" Ghost asks.
"Thirty years tracking the same type of creature? He knows more than we do." I take a sip of coffee.
"See you after, Blades." He squeezes my shoulder gently, then heads for the door. "I'll send Rossi in."
After Ghost leaves, I spend the next three minutes reviewing my notes one last time, though I've practically memorized Rossi's file by now. I can't help glancing at the two-way mirror, knowing Sherlock is studying my every move like I'm some kind of specimen.
On impulse, I make a small adjustment to my tablet screen, angling it just enough that he can't see what I'm looking at. A petty move, but sometimes it's the little victories. I straighten my jacket, check my watch twice, and take another sip of coffee. Waiting has never been my strong suit.
Three minutes later, Antonio Rossi enters the room. It's only been days since we pulled him from that panic room in Rome, but he looks like a different man today. His ashen complexion replaced by the weathered tan of a field agent who spent decades outdoors. His iron-gray hair is neatly combed, and he's traded the rumpled clothes of that night for a pressed button-down shirt and slacks. Only his eyes remain the same—alert, observant, carrying the wariness and intelligence of someone who's seen a lot.
"Agent Mathieson." His handshake is firm, his voice steadier than the last time I heard it. "Good to see you under better circumstances."
"Mr. Rossi. Glad to see you've recovered from our last encounter." I gesture to the coffee bar behind him. "Please feel free to grab a coffee."
"Thank you." He pours a cup of black and settles into the chair, his eyes briefly flicking to the mirror before returning to me. "Your team made quite an impression that night. Not many agents have faced chimeras and lived to file reports."
"We were lucky. And we had good intel, thanks to your previous field reports. Though I wish we'd arrived sooner."
You got there in time. That's what matters." His expression darkens. "Unlike the two teams before yours."
"You've encountered more chimera than anyone in GUIDE history," I say, getting to the point. "Sixteen confirmed containments over twenty years."
"Seventeen, actually." A shadow crosses his face. "The last one didn't make the official record."
Interesting. I make a mental note to circle back to that later. "What can you tell me about the chimeras we encountered in Rome? Two males, working in tandem."
