“What?” Michael said as they left the police station, voice littered with mockery. “No ‘thank you for your service’ or ‘great job out there’?”

The station was large and strangely empty. Pretty much every time Michael had come by the station to turn in a perp or get information for work, cops were usually buzzing about. It was an odd sensation and, for some reason, made him feel a little uncomfortable. Where were all the police and what could they all possibly be working on to make this place feel so barren?

Though, that didn’t unsettle him nearly so much as the irate woman glowering before him. Perhaps he should cease frustrating her. They had finished their job already. Now, all Michael had to do was go back to the guild hall, fill out the correct paperwork, and finally get paid. Then, he’d hopefully never have to see this woman again.

But, somehow, he couldn’t stop himself from making this Peace Keeper as miserable as possible before they parted ways.

Call it just desserts, for how wretched being around her had been.

“I’m a Peace Keeper,” the woman said. “Protector of the country, defender of the innocent, and a bastion of truth and goodwill. As such, I make it my mission to uphold all the values the Titanian Church holds dear. That includes never lying.”

Jordan Moore, the young woman Michael had spent the last five days working with on a case. Well, working with was definitely an exaggeration. Jordan had spent nearly this whole week ordering him about like he was hired help.

Which, if he had to be fair, he technically was. She was a Peace Keeper, a member of the group that touted themselves as the most elite warriors in the whole country of Talam. As such, their missions were almost always dangerous, more often than not life-threatening. They looked down on people like Michael, who used their talents in a guild to help the common folks. Guild work could get dangerous, but many times their missions involved finding a lost cat or helping some local Lower School students promote their bake sale. Guildwork allowed Michael the opportunity to help people on both a macro and micro scale.

Scales in which this recently finished mission had been.

“Oh, really?” Michael said. “And how exactly would you have gotten our mark’s location, or learned the correct pass phrase he needed to hear to think we were friendly, without me?”

Jordan didn’t deign that with a response. Looked like she actually took the whole ‘not lying’ business seriously. Without Michael’s connections across the city of Linick, including those of less savory stature, the Peace Keepers would not have been able to find their target: some mafia thug who had a habit of loaning money to people in need, then forcing an impossible interest rate at a too-frequent compounding contract upon them. So, someone worthy of getting kicked off the streets.

Evidently, Jordan had been working the case for several weeks before realizing she alone could go no further and that she needed outside help. Being a fearsome Peace Keeper was all well and good for the general public, who would generally bow their heads and thank them for their service. But for those who ran the underworld of the city? Peace Keepers would be lucky to get the time of day from them.

Hence, why she needed a more personable – and definitely more friendly – touch to this case.

“Here,” Jordan said, tapping a screen on the left arm of her Peace Keeper uniform – a bland, utilitarian suit made from stark whites and black; the only variety to it was the belt around her waist and the compartment that held a screen on one arm. “There’s your credits. I’d say it was a pleasure doing business with you, but we already talked about my lying.”

Michael checked his wristband, which notified him of the two-thousand credits he’d just received. Man, that amount made the time he’d spent with her almost worth it.

Which was too bad. Five days ago, when she’d filled the contract out with his guild, Sacred Skies, he hadn’t been too pessimistic. Sure, he’d never had a great experience working with Peace Keepers before, but Jordan had been different. Instead of the gruff, more intense people at least ten years older than him, Jordan seemed far more inexperienced. She was a year younger than him – twenty-three – and still had a light in her eye that suggested she hadn’t given up faith in humanity.

Not to mention her looks. Brown skin warm and rich, deep brown hair worked on so her natural curls were straight and smooth, and an ample backside which Michael could greatly appreciate with the occasional glance.

Then she opened her mouth and ruined everything. Now the only stirring she evoked from him was annoyance.

“Thank you, oh so Honorable Peace Keeper,” Michael said with a flamboyant bow. “I wish you luck in your next mission.” Which hopefully wouldn’t require help from the guild.

“You’ll know all about it,” Jordan groaned. “Since Sacred Skies will be helping with it, too.”

Michael blinked. “What is it?”

Jordan rounded on him, mouth in a sneer. “How dumb are you? The feast for the Thanksgiving to the Flame-bearers is a week from today.”

“So?”

“So? They’re bringing in all hands on deck to watch over the feast. Peace Keepers and the police have been making sure everything will run smoothly for over a week now. They’re even bringing in guild help and the Talam Guard.”

At least that answered the question of the missing cops. It was still strange, however. Of all the festivals that took place every year, why did this particular one have so much effort put into it?

As strange as that was, his mind moved on from the thought and annoyingly clung to something else Jordan had said. Even. As if guilds and the Talam Guard – a military group used for large-scale insurrections – were any less valuable than the Peace Keepers.

But, of course she felt that way. It seemed all Peace Keepers did.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Michael said. “I’m not working the event.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I have another, even more important, job to do.”

And anything that would keep him away from her for the time being, was definitely more important than overseeing a religious feast Michael had no part in.

“Good, then,” Jordan said. “The fewer of you, the better. I’d wish you luck on your next mission, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Michael said, waving his hand as he turned to walk away. “Lying and all that.”

What to choose, what to choose? Michael lay in his bed, swiping the screen of his tablet upwards as he perused possible jobs in one hand, while he fixed his afro with a pick in the other. It would help if any of them were actually good.

Perhaps he was being unfair. The jobs his clients brought them weren’t necessarily bad or unimportant, in usual circumstances, but it seemed unlikely that Sacred Skies’ guild leader, Fumiko, would accept being a guest of honor at a local Middle School’s presentation for the importance of the different sects of the Titanian Church or gathering groceries for a geriatric client to be good excuses for abandoning the rest of the guild, which was mostly working on preparations for the coming festival’s feast.

At least he’d been able to sneak into Sacred Skies’ manor unseen, aided by the late time of night and his special entrance and exit through the extravagant edifice’s domed roof, so no one could pester him about helping with the festival.

Michael blinked, only then realizing that the screen had seemed to blur. Instead of rows of job requests, what appeared to be a fuzzy white screen stood before him. Michael’s next blink was longer, more deliberate, and details came into focus. He yawned and placed the tablet and pick aside, nuzzling his cheek into his soft pillow.

Michael could always find a job in the morning after a good night’s sleep. It had been a long five days with Jordan Moore. He’d work better in the morning, in the peace and quiet of his lovely home.

That was, if he’d actually been able to rest comfortably. Despite his exhaustion, he tossed and turned for hours afterwards. Try all he might, the job at the festival loomed over him; if he didn’t find a job ‘important’ enough for Fumiko, then it looked like his sorry ass would be back together with Jordan Moore.

A loud pounding on his door jolted him. He was groggy with a line of drool pooling on his pillow.

“Your sorry ass still in bed?” an annoyed voice called from the other side of the door. “Get up! Boss wants to talk with you.”

Michael groaned. Of course she did. He turned his tablet back on, squinting at the screen brighter than the sun peaking through his blinds. After a flurry of a scroll, it hadn’t appeared any new, exciting jobs had been posted.

The knocks came again. “Michael!”

“I’m coming,” Michael said. “Chill your tits.”

Michael quickly dressed and opened the door, revealing Hisa standing just beyond the doorway, hip cocked to the side, arms folded, with a single finger tapping her bicep.

“I’ll have you know,” Hisa said, “my tits are the chillest things about me.”

Michael cracked a smile. Despite being the most petite member of Sacred Skies – or perhaps because of that – Hisa was always quick with a quip. Her folded, Nichugoan eyes were narrowed, a little smirk curling her cheek. She clearly wanted Michael to respond in kind and keep the banter going. With the majority of his brain cells working on a way to stay away from the festival, however, Michael didn’t have anything for her.

“So, where’s Fumiko?” Michael asked.

Hisa’s smirk dropped. “Front garden, enjoying the cool morning breeze.”

“She was always crazy like that. Any idea what she wants to talk with me about?”

“Probably about the festival coming up.”

Damn. His steps were slower than Hisa’s, despite him being well over a foot taller than her. She didn’t hurry him along; she’d likely get roped into the festival job, as well. If she hadn’t already.

They left the long hallway, where all the members of Sacred Skies who lived in the manor – so, most of Michael’s guildmates – stayed. The atrium was practically empty. No one stood around the tall walls, admiring the many paintings placed between large columns. The other side of the manor, which held conference rooms and meeting places for clients, had no foot traffic. Not a single person even enjoyed the hot tub the size of a pool near the entrance – though, honestly, that wasn’t too strange, as most people used that to unwind at the end of a long day. The only people in the atrium was Sacred Skies’ most loyal receptionist, Kayla, and a middle-aged woman standing before Kayla’s desk, voice loud and frantic.

Hm…

“Uh, the front door’s this way,” Hisa said.

“Too bad my feet are taking me here,” Michael said, heading the opposite direction of where Hisa pointed. He approached Kayla, who gave Michael a wearied smile, and the woman. “Everything alright here?”

“No, not at all, your…” the woman said, scanning Michael’s body until it landed on the interior of his right forearm: The location of his Mark. “Holy Wind Weaver. Not at all.”

The woman refused to make eye-contact for long. Michael had always found it a little strange, but he’d gotten used to it. He’d better have, as this was how he’d been treated his whole life, in his memory.

His Mark was a tattoo which displayed what type of Wielder he was. Titans, in their eternal wisdom, came to certain, special children and blessed them with their own power. Michael had been blessed by an Air type Titan, thus Gifting him with powers over wind. It made him quite powerful, very rare amongst the people of the Republic of Talam, and also capable of working at this guild in the first place.

So long as he provided for the common person.

“So what’s your request?” Michael said. “If it’s important, I can probably work on it right away.”

“Michael,” Hisa said, voice low.

“Oh, b-bless you, Thankful… I mean, thank you Blessed Wind Weaver,” the woman said. “It’s my daughter. She’s gone missing.”

Michael’s eyes widened. Yeah, that would definitely count as an important mission.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Hisa said. “But, in most cases, this should be brought to the police first. They can come to us on your behalf if they need our assistance.”

“But I already went to them earlier,” the woman said, mouth quivering. “They took so long to make a report, then told me to come here. They’re so busy, you see, with the coming festival. Said the best luck I’d have getting someone to work on it now is if I go to you.”

Michael turned to Kayla. “She finish making her contract?”

“Almost,” Kayla said. “The only problem is…”

“I can’t pay much,” the woman said, her voice breaking. “It’s hard to make ends meet. Most of my credits go to Rachel’s tuition. She goes to Linick Technical University, can you believe it? She even got an internship at Nadar.”

Michael whistled. Linick Tech was one of the harder schools to get into, in their province, Neirea, and Nadar was one of the largest, most demanding tech companies in all of Talam.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Hisa asked.

“Yesterday afternoon,” the woman said. “Before her shift at Nadar – she has to work late, you know, what with morning classes. But she never came home and she hasn’t returned any of my calls or messages.”

“She have any friends or other family who she might’ve talked to?”

“No. She goes to school, comes home, then goes to her internships, then comes back home.” The woman wrapped her arms around herself. “She’s always with me, when she’s at home.”

Hisa eyed Michael. Truthfully, they’d seen reports like this before. An overburdened student, coupled with a likely overbearing parent, who probably couldn’t take the constant stress of work, school, and family. Twice Michael had taken a “missing persons” case, all to find out the college kid was at his secret girlfriend’s apartment and had turned his wristband off, so he couldn’t answer the messages, or to find the girl had simply gotten too drunk the previous night with her friends and were still deep asleep on the bar’s floor the next morning.

Still, if it got him out of working the festival, even for that much longer…

“Make it out to twenty credits,” Michael said. “Flat rate.”

“What?” both Hisa and Kayla said.

“Got paid big time on yesterday’s job,” Michael said. “Don’t need to worry about funds for a while.”

“Michael,” Hisa said, voice now slow and low.

“What’s more important?” Michael said. “Placing tables around a park, or finding this woman’s missing daughter?”

“Oh, Bless you, Gracious Wind Weaver,” the woman said, eyes misting. “Bless you, so very much.”

No, bless you, my kind woman. Michael adopted a serious expression. “Kayla, please finish writing up that contract and take her to the first meeting room. I’ll be right there. But first, I need to tell Fumiko about my important new job.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you now,” Fumiko said, hands on her hips. It was always a wonder that, even while vexed, she made every motion elegant and pristine: every bit the professional demeanor a leader of one of Talam’s largest guilds should have. “But the moment this job is finished, you will join the rest of us in the preparations for the festival.”

“Your confidence in me makes my heart flutter,” Michael said, putting on a light tone and placing his hand over his heart. “But this woman’s daughter is missing. How quickly do you think I can solve this?”

Fumiko’s folded eyes narrowed, then glanced at the door behind Michael. The worried mother, his new client, waited inside. After finding Fumiko in the glorious garden in front of Sacred Skies’ palace, Michael had told her the situation. She wasn’t as openly against the job as Hasi, but she was as well aware of the previous “missing person” jobs Michael had conducted in the past. As evident by the way her mouth curled down a fraction whenever he mentioned the new job and by the way she’d followed him all the way back to the meeting room, telling him how the governor’s office itself requested all hands on deck for this festival.

Too bad all that went in through one ear and out the other.

“As quickly as the guild, and that missing person, needs,” Fumiko said.

She then turned and walked away, her sleek, jet black hair swaying and almost sheening in the light.

Finally. Michael entered the meeting room. His client’s back was to the door, sitting at a desk. She turned as the door opened, her eyes – ladened with darkened bags beneath them – widened as he approached.

Michael sat down across her, pulled out his tablet, and opened her contract. “Anything you’d like to add to this?”

“Just this,” the woman – Clarisse, as written in the contract – said, leaning forward with her right arm held out. The arm held her wristband.

Michael tapped a setting to receive information from nearby tech, then placed his tablet atop Clarisse’s wristband. A picture appeared on Michael’s screen: a woman a couple years younger than him, beaming in a park as strawberry blonde hair fell down to her shoulders, with deep green eyes matching the foliage behind her.

“This your most recent picture of Rachel?” Michael asked.

Clarisse nodded. “Taken in the summer. It was the last time she had any free time in her busy schedule. We walked around Glen Park and even did a little shopping.”

That smile looked like it reached Rachel’s eyes; nothing forced and soulless like others he’d seen. In this picture, Rachel looked genuinely happy to enjoy an afternoon with her mother.

Though, anything could change in four to six months.

Something else appeared next to the photo. A long line of messages between Rachel and Clarisse. After a quick scan, Rachel hadn’t failed to respond to a single message until last night. The first of many unanswered messages from Clarisse began at 12:47pm.

“I’m guessing this was made after her shift?” Michael asked.

“Her shift ended at 11,” Clarisse said. “She’s normally home by 11:30, depending on if the buses are on time. I started to get worried around 12:30 and, as you can see, called and messaged her many times. All of the calls went straight to voicemail.”

Clarisse hiccupped, then wiped her eye. “I decided if she hadn’t come home by the morning, or hadn’t responded by then, I’d go to the police.”

Michael didn’t need to hear anymore. He rose. “Thank you for this. You can spend as long as you want in the atrium, if you want. I can’t promise this will be quick, but I have an idea of how I can find her.”

Clarisse placed her hands over her breast. “Thank you, Kind Wind Weaver. And please, bring my baby girl home.”

“Just can’t stay away, can you?” Officer Puck said, glancing up from the files on her tablet.

“You know me,” Michael said, sitting opposite the officer uninvited. “Can’t stay away. It’s why I love to moonlight as a cop.”

“They’d kick you out of training in a week, Gift or no.”

Michael smirked. Yeah, the freedom guilds provided was unparalleled. Thank the Titans they’d blessed him and made him a Wielder.

“So, what else do you need?” Officer Puck said, typing on her tablet with one hand and brushing a stray blonde hair with another. “Believe it or not, I’m actually pretty busy at the moment?”

“Like everyone else?” Michael said, glancing around at the mostly barren room. Very few cops were at their desks, and those that were gave Michael even less eye contact than Officer Puck. “Where is everyone?”

“Either doing rounds,” Officer Puck said. “Or at Glen Park.”

Michael groaned. “Is it for the festival?”

“Yes, it’s for the festival.”

“Why’s the whole city on it?”

“Maybe it’s a special anniversary or something. I don’t know. The governor’s office hasn’t told us shit. So, what do you need this time?”

Michael was almost hurt. Normally he could stall for a few more minutes with Officer Puck. Looked like this festival job was getting on her nerves.

“Access to a civilian’s personal device,” Michael said. “Need her location ASAP.”

“Contract?”

“Here.”

Officer Puck didn’t even glance at the contract as Michael transferred it to her device. She was a few years his senior, but Michael had been with Sacred Skies working cases longer than she’d been on the force. Her very first mission, in fact, had required Michael’s aid. In a way, he’d mentored her and she trusted him.

It thankfully provided fewer legal hoops to jump through in order to finish his missions.

“Done,” Officer Puck said, drawing her tablet back to her side of the desk.

Michael put in Rachel’s personal information, like her ID number and wristband identification, given by Clarisse.

An error occurred.

“What the hell?” Michael mumbled.

“What’s up?” Officer Puck said.

“What do you make of this?” Michael showed her the tablet.

She frowned. “Try again.”

Michael did, to the same result.

“Hold on,” Officer Puck said. She put the information into her own tablet. The same error message popped up. “That’s not right.”

No, it wasn’t. If her wristband had been turned off, they could still find its location. If it had been destroyed, the message would have indicated its destruction. But an error like this meant that either their tablets or Rachel’s wristband couldn’t connect to the network.

With how connected all Talam was, one would have to be deep underground to lose connection, or be surrounded by tech which actively distorted the system and even the space around it.

“What job is this for again?” Officer Puck said.

“A missing persons job,” Michael said.

“Another one?”

“No, not really. My client came to you this morning, but you all told her to come to us.”

Officer Puck’s tongue peaked out the corner of her mouth as she frantically typed on her tablet. She read a document for a few seconds, then shook her head.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “We only did that with the first report. Two more have come in since then.”

Michael’s stomach plummeted. “Three missing persons in a day?”

“It doesn’t look like any of them are connected with the other. And the age ranges twenty years.”

There could be any number of reasons for this: all three decided they were going to burn their old lives away and throw themselves into the breeze where none could find them, all on the same night; maybe each of them led a secret life and were actually in communication with one another and decided to run away together in an unorthodox thruple romance; or, the more likely answer, they were actually missing.

Michael’s mission may actually be legitimate.

“Rachel works an internship at Nadar,” Michael said, leaning forward. “She was likely heading to the bus stop before she was taken.”

“These other two–”

“Officer Puck!” a loud, deep voice boomed. “What do you think you’re–?”

Chief Johnson burst from his office, then paused as he looked at Michael. Michael had liked to think that, over the years, the two of them had built up a friendly rivalry. Chief Johnson wasn’t quite as dark as Michael, nor as tall, but his musculature was far more impressive, as was the thick beard and mustache surrounding his lips.

Michael beamed. Chief Johnson scowled.

“What’s it this time?” Chief Johnson said.

“The missing persons case, Chief,” Officer Puck said. “Michael’s able to work it.”

“While you’re not,” Chief Johnson said. “Back to work, Officer. If we don’t get those logistics in by 3, the governor’s office is going to call our budget into questioning again.”

“Sir,” Officer Puck said, getting back to work.

“And you,” Chief Johnson said, glaring at Michael. “They haven’t dragged you into this festival mess yet?”

“No,” Michael said. “I think this is a little more important.”

Chief Johnson sighed. “Damn straight.”

He expanded his size-changing tablet, from the length and width of a fingernail all the way to the scope of his head, tapped it for several seconds, then gestured for Michael to come over. An order that, for once, Michael followed without comment.

“Here’s access to the city’s camera feed,” Chief Johnson said. “From last night, 8pm to 13am. To the best of our knowledge, this is the time frame those people went missing.”

“Thanks,” Michael said, turning and walking away.

“If I hear anything else,” Officer Puck whispered. “I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds good,” Michael said.

“What are you still doing?” Chief Johnson yelled. “We’re busy here. And you should be, too.”

“Whoa, this seems healthy,” a newcomer said, opening the door, which allowed natural light to split the darkness Michael had surrounded himself with.

Michael groaned, then paused the videos. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

“I want to know about your case,” Luis said, sliding into the room. “Heard it’s another missing person’s case.”

“And this one’s likely legit, too.”

Luis doubled-back. “You serious?”

“Would I have to do this for a simple runaway?”

Michael gestured to the room. The walls of this particular conference room had more screens than walls. With at least nine monitors on the walls, Michael was able to surround himself with more than two dozen different video feed. He had an algorithm running to recognize the bodies – and particularly the faces – of Rachel and the two others on the police reports. It wasn’t perfect – it had flagged some people who looked similar, but were not the people on the reports. But Michael had used this algorithm before, so he knew it would eventually pick up the correct faces.

“This is a lot of ground to cover for one person,” Luis said.

“I’m looking for three now,” Michael said. “That wall’s dedicated to Rachel and is focusing on Nadar’s building and the surrounding areas. Her shift should be ending soon, so I can hopefully find her route in a minute. These others are going a little faster. I’m more or less waiting on the body recognition scanner to pick something legit up on them.”

“I meant,” Luis began, running his hand through his oily brown hair, “that this is a lot of ground for you to cover, alone.”

“Everyone else is too busy for this, apparently,” Michael grumbled.

“It’s so dumb,” Luis said. “I’m barely doing anything at the park. They gave me my hour dinner break, but I’m doing as much work now as I was then.”

“Dinner? What time is it?”

“Well, early dinner, late lunch. Anyway, I’ll see if I–”

The screens looking at Nadar pinged. Rachel, wearing a white long-sleeved buttoned shirt and grey work skirt, walked down the steps from Nadar’s exit, then went south. Michael scooted over, focusing on the cameras to the south of Nadar, as she left the camera’s field of vision.

As much surveillance as Linick had, not every inch could be recorded. Too many resources would have to be allocated to the video files and personnel watching over everything. Even with the most valuable areas – and in some cases the most dangerous – under constant surveillance, plenty already fell through the cracks.

Twenty seconds after leaving sight of the first camera’s view, Rachel appeared in another. She walked out of this one’s sight, heading in a straight line. Michael followed her progress as she continued south for several minutes. He found the closest bus stop on her route, then the next two just in case, and watched all the screens. Barely any traffic passed by on the road in the shots, but the occasional car or van drove by her as she continued on the sidewalk.

She left another camera’s view, then never showed up in another one. Michael waited twenty, thirty, forty seconds. Nothing. He investigated the closest cameras to where she vanished, even rewound the recording to make sure he hadn’t missed her.

Rachel, however, never appeared in another camera.

“What’s in that area where we lost her?” Luis asked.

Michael scanned a map. “Shops and other business that would all be closed at that time. A few alleys, it seems, but no one’s reported a murder here.”

Luis breathed out. “Looks like you found her last known location.”

“Near a bus stop, a few minutes’ walk to Nadar.” Michael pinged the general location on the map. It was near the edge of Linick’s largest administrative district, where some of Talam’s largest companies conducted affairs and even where most of Neirea’s governmental work was conducted. “But… what happened to her? Where did she go?”

“I’m going to see if I can get out of this festival job,” Luis said. “This is way more important.”

“Thanks,” Michael said. “Until you can, I’m going to try and find–”

Michael’s tablet flashed. Officer Puck had sent a message. Another missing persons report came in, last contact the previous night.

Michael placed his head in his hands. “Actually, I’m going to need to find the other three missing people.”

Luis’ thin fingers gripped Michael’s shoulder. “You’ll be in here all day, or maybe all week, if you’re only watching these videos. Is there anything else you can do to help, while getting out of this room?”

He would go stir-crazy stuck in this room. He was a Wind Weaver, for Titans’ sake. He needed some fresh air.

Michael stood. “Yeah, I think there is. Let me know how talking to Fumiko goes. Message, don’t call. I’ll be with a sensitive contact who can probably help.”

Michael knocked on the door, then took a step back, his feet barely sinking into the luxurious carpet. The long corridor was lined with the fancy flooring, golden streams weaving about themselves to add variety to the rest of the deep scarlet. Fancy, even for Michael’s taste, and he lived in a mansion coated in marble.

Though, for highrises in downtown Linick, this one was more on the modest side. The tenant he was visiting was wealthy, but not enough to hole up on the highest floor, let alone the most expensive places.

“Oh, Michael!” a woman said upon opening the door. “What are you–?”

“Uncle Mike!” a loud, excited voice cried.

Micheal knelt, smiling, just in time for his little niece to dive forward and wrap him in a hug. He gave her a little squeeze back, then lifted her as he stood. He supported her with one arm and she held herself up by hugging his neck.

“Hey, Faith,” Michael said, hoisting his niece a little higher. “How are you?”

“Good!” Faith exclaimed. “I drew a bug today. Wanna see it?”

“Do I ever!” Michael said, walking forward.

His way forward, however, was blocked by the woman at the door, Maria, who was stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind her with one hand and lowering her blouse’s sleeve with another.

“Not that we’re not happy to see you, Michael,” Maria began, “but what’s the occasion?”

“What?” Michael said. “Do I need a reason to see the cutest girl in the world?”

Michael bopped Faith’s nose. She leaned back and covered her face with her little hands, giggling. She had the same smile as her mother’s, though with darker skin and curlier hair. Maria’s tan was impressively brown, just not compared to those on Michael’s side of the family.

“You’ve got that look,” Maria said.

Of course he did. She’d seen him many a time working a mission. It wasn’t like he was going to hide it from her, but a few more moments of levity would have been nice.

“Is Dean home?” Michael asked.

Maria’s lips thinned for a moment, her eyes darting to the floor, then she put on a smile. “Come on in, Sweetie. Daddy and Uncle Mike are going to talk now.”

Faith complained, but didn’t cling too tightly as Michael brought her back to the floor after he entered the apartment. Maria took Faith away as she called for Dean, announcing Michael’s arrival. Michael didn’t deem it necessary, since his brother was sitting in the expansive living room just down the short hallway. He sat on a wide couch, facing the tall windows which provided a small view of Linick’s downtown.

More specifically, however, it showed a part of Linick’s main administrative district. Just in the corner of the window, Nadar’s skyscraper reached to the heavens.

“Sup, bro?” Dean said with a grin, looking over, then tossing aside a tablet and getting up. He clasped hands with Michael, then pulled him into a one-armed hug. “What’s got you in the neighborhood?”

“Why does everyone assume I’m here for work?” Michael said, pulling back.

Dean’s grin widened, the unnatural shining white of his teeth only deepening the black of his skin. “Alright then. Maria, get us some beer.”

“Water for me, please,” Michael said.

Dean clapped Michael’s shoulder. “Knew it. You’re on the job.”

Michael nodded to Dean’s deposited tablet. There were plenty of numbers and figures on the screen. “So are you. Unless looking at company portfolios is a hobby, now.”

“Yeah, well, my job barely forces me out of the apartment, so I don’t need to worry about proper conduct, or any of that shit.”

“Yes, because reading through company accounts is something easily done while inebriated.”

“Exactly! At least it’s less boring.” Dean plopped down on the sofa, then rested his arms on its back. “So, what are you here for?”

“Believe it or not, checking up on you all is one reason why I’m here,” Michael said, also sitting. Maria came by with a beer in one hand and a glass of cold water in the other. Dean practically snatched the beer away while Michael let her hand the water to him, then he thanked her. She gave him a small smile, then entered an adjacent room where Faith was jumping on a bed and the door hissed shut. “Everything alright here?”

Dean was too busy taking a long sip of his drink, which he sighed in satisfaction afterwards, to answer immediately.

“Never better,” Dean said. “Why?”

Michael frowned. As well as Maria knew his tells, Michael could read a lot from her little gestures. The pulling of her blouse sleeve was particularly telling.

Another time, sadly. I have a job to do.

“Not too far from here, a young woman got kidnapped last night,” Michael said.

“Damn, that sucks,” Dean said. “But it’s a big city. Crime happens all the time.”

“True, but three others were kidnapped, too.”

“Triple damn. Or, quadruple? Whatever. Where were they taken from?”

“No idea yet. But if the other three were kidnapped close by…”

“Ah, I get it. Look, we don’t go out too much. Faith ain’t old enough for school yet and Maria only really goes out to get groceries.”

Michael leaned forward, frowning.

Dean sighed. “I suppose I can get the groceries from now on.”

“You’d at least be less likely to be snatched from the street.”

Dean was pulling the bottle to his lips, but paused as Michael spoke. “Seriously? She was literally taken off the street?”

“Most likely.”

Michael explained what he’d found via the recordings. It was then that Dean realized Michael’s other reason for paying him a visit. Dean grimaced and slammed his beer down on the coffee table before them.

“Don’t get started with that shit,” Dean roared. “I’m not a part of that world anymore, bro. Haven’t even talked to any of them since you and Uncle Benji set me straight.”

Michael took a long breath. Dean was only a year younger than Michael, though they couldn’t have been more different growing up. Sure, Michael was a Wielder while Dean was not, but that was only the start. Michael was a bit of a wise-ass, but he’d always gotten good grades and, more or less, done what he’d been told. Dean, however, made more jeering than sarcastic remarks, never did his work, and always stayed out later than Mom and Dad’s curfew. It had led to some heated “discussions” in the house, as well as introducing Dean to a less-than-savory crowd.

In Upper School, he’d fallen in hard with that wrong crowd and nearly lost his freedom, and even life, because of it. About four years ago, however, not long after he’d dropped out of Upper School, Dean finally began turning his life around. That had been a story by itself, but if it weren’t for Michael, their wealthy – albeit very private and shy – Uncle Benji, and the fact that Maria – Dean’s girlfriend since Middle School – getting pregnant, it was likely Dean would never have gotten his act together.

Though, there were still moments that gave Michael pause. Like how Dean always grew livid whenever Michael even suggested that Dean could have any involvement with his old crowd, yet always came through with a lead for Michael.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t know anyone who could do this,” Michael said. “Or that you don’t have any ideas.”

Dean scowled. “There a ransom?”

“None.”

“Then looks like you’re SOL.”

“Dean, please.”

“I’m not in that shit anymore! Any of the old gang wouldn’t take anyone without wanting credits, anyway. And four people is way too much heat. I got nothing for you.”

Michael looked outside at the city. “I’m just trying to make this a safer place for my niece to grow up in.”

Dean huffed, but deflated. A little. “Any weird vehicles?”

Michael gave his brother a little smile. Despite clearly wanting to talk about anything else, Dean was still willing to try and help him. Like always, that was something Michael could count on Dean for.

“Nothing suspicious that I noticed,” Michael said.

“I don’t mean that,” Dean said. “I’m not talking about big white vans with no windows like the pedos use. I mean anything that looks alright at a look, then seems weird if you actually think about it.”

Michael did a little hum as he thought. “I didn’t see anything. But I only looked at each video once.”

“Check again, just in case,” Dean said. “If four people are missing, all of them from the street, then some idiots probably think they’re real clever with their vehicles.”

“What makes them idiots?”

“First off, they’re kidnapping people without leaving a ransom. Means they’re likely human traffickers and these people are in trouble. But if you don’t want to get caught, you give desperate people an offer they can’t refuse, quietly, and get them to come to you. You don’t go driving around and throwing people in the backs of cars. It’s stupid.”

“If your vehicle idea is right, then I’m happy for them to be as stupid as possible,” Michael said, rising. “Thanks, Dean. I really appreciate it.”

“Whatever,” Dean said, then he smiled. “Always love having you around, bro. Just prefer it when it’s to play with Faith.”

“Me too, Dean. Me too.”

Sorry, Mike, Luis’ message said. I tried to get out of it, but they won’t let me. Three Ardent bishops and the Cardinal are coming in, so they’ll need extra security. Sorry again! And good luck. I hope it’s going well.

Michael groaned, bonking his head on the desk. The screens along the Sacred Skies conference room flashed as more video feed played on, his algorithm still at work. He’d spent time looking over the footage of Rachel, noting down every vehicle which passed: several sedans, a service vehicle, a few trucks, and a van. In the time since leaving his brother’s apartment, the algorithm had picked up one more missing person: None of the vehicles around the second person were a match to what was near Rachel.

And now no other eyes would be allowed to give him much help on this because they were all playing security for some of the Ardent sect’s most important leaders. The leaders, Michael could easily note, who all had extensive security already and were powerful Wielders in their own right with plenty of training to defend themselves.

Michael’s wristband buzzed again. Another missing person was reported. Details soon followed. Michael, however, leaned so far back in his chair it nearly tipped back. Now he had to find five people?

Wait… Rachel had been taken in Nadar, and the second victim had been taken only seven blocks northwest of her. Both were in Linick’s main administrative district. What if…?

Michael narrowed the scope, displaying as many cameras as he could within the administration district. That ought to help. If I’m right, then I’ll find these people in no time.

Michael closed his eyes and sighed. The constant staring at the screens was weighing on his eyes. He could afford to keep his eyes away from the monitors for a moment, right? Besides, the algorithm would notify him when it picked up anything important.

Michael’s eyes flung open and he jolted forward. Several alarms were blaring on the screens around him and a little blue light blinked from his wristband, showing his missed notifications. Michael’s mouth dropped as he looked at the time: it was already after eight in the morning. He’d fallen asleep.

And in that time, according to Officer Puck, two more people had been kidnapped. Michael shook his head. What was going on in this city?

He checked the screens. The algorithm had picked up the other three people he’d been looking for. He put in the information of the other two missing persons, then watched the appropriate feed. In the footage for two missing persons flagged by the algorithm, only one type of vehicle was constant: a service vehicle.

That’s three of the five where a service vehicle was seen around the time they went missing. Michael stood, looking over the data. And everyone’s gone missing within a mile of each other.

With the narrowed scope, one of the new missing persons showed up in the algorithm. As he watched through the feed, taking notes, the other one popped up. Both had a service vehicle nearby just before they disappeared.

Michael took screenshots of each of the service vans. None seemed out of the ordinary: they appeared to be simple city service vehicles. A camera picked up one of their license plates though. Michael ran it through his system, but it came back with nothing.

Son of a… Michael charged from the room. He had the best lead yet and he couldn’t waste it.

Winds rushed from Michael’s shrinking lungs, all to support him as he flew from rooftop to rooftop.

His Gift allowed him the miracle of flight for as long as he could hold his breath. As a talented Wind Weaver – in his oh so humble opinion – he was capable of sustained flight for just shy of three minutes, if he didn’t have to fly so fast. What his Gift didn’t allow was invisibility. Normally, that didn’t matter; he was entirely fine with the Linick citizens watching him fly around the city. Now, however, he was tailing a vehicle and did not want to get noticed.

It had taken only a couple hours after leaving Sacred Skies’ manor to get to the administrative district and find the service vehicle he was looking for. The first two vans he’d found had actually been legitimate – given how its licence plate came up during a search – but the third had given him nothing. From the little Michael could tell, only three people were in the front of the van – though there were no windows to show what was in the body of the vehicle.

So Michael followed it, keeping a short distance away from it, and flying among the rooftops to – hopefully – stay out of sight. He’d figured something like this could happen, so he’d worn grey to match the buildings and pale blue to try and blend into the sky.

He’d gotten away with this form of tailing before on previous missions. Thankfully, people usually didn’t look up.

But he had to be prepared: usually was not never.

Michael landed atop a building and peered over the edge. There were a few people on the sidewalk and the service vehicle slowed. Were they preparing another abduction? No, they were just stopping at a red light. A few minutes later, they drove down a smaller street. Had they found someone taking the alley, out of sight of most of the people wandering around? Unlikely, as the alley was empty.

This can’t be good for my heart. Michael grimaced as he continued following the vehicle. If the people inside tried to abduct someone, Michael would swoop in to stop them. Then, he’d interrogate them and drop them off at the police station. If, however, they returned to their base of operations, that could potentially lead Michael to the masterminds behind this plot. But any of their victims are probably having a worse time than me.

I gotta stop complaining.

Michael followed the vehicle through several streets until it reached a small warehouse. The street was a little unkempt, which was strange considering how close it was to Linick’s Spire: The largest skyscraper in the city, where the governor practically lived and where most of the city’s governmental affairs occurred. The tall edifice loomed high in the sky, almost casting this part of the city in its shadow.

That was probably something the workers of this region enjoyed, so people would keep their eyes off their nefarious business.

The warehouse had a large garage door that rattled open. In a garage that size, Michael had expected at least a dozen other vehicles. Yet it was practically devoid of anything, let alone vans. The garage began to close as the service van’s front doors opened.

Damn it.

Michael’s lungs depressed further as he flew closer to the warehouse. It had some high windows which primarily let natural light into the building, but also gave Michael a vantage from which to see into it. Three men walked out of the lone service van, stretching and speaking words Michael couldn’t make out. Michael pressed forward. If they opened the trunk and dragged bodies out of there, that would give him plenty of reason to storm the building and put an end to this.

The three men, however, did nothing of the sort. They walked in the opposite direction of the van’s trunk, entering a room where they vanished from Michael’s view.

Michael growled, then landed on the neighboring building’s roof. He hid his face behind his hands, glancing about, but there were no security cameras around. Why would they, if they were conducting illegal activities? Still, it never hurt to be safe.

Wouldn’t want to tip them off that someone was on to them.

“What now?” Michael mumbled.

He could continue waiting to see if other vehicles would join that one in the garage, or to see if they eventually would go back out for another round. That would be smart, but he couldn’t just twiddle his thumbs and do nothing while he waited.

Michael’s eyes widened. He jotted down the warehouse’s address, then pulled out a list of contacts: some were higher up in the governor’s office, others had better access to businesses both local and nation-wide, while plenty more were accustomed to roaming the streets by night.

Surely, at least one of those contacts could give him the information he needed. At least one of them could explain who, or what company, owned this building. With that information, Michael would be that much closer to solving this case and finding those people.

Unless they were already killed or moved across the country.

Stomach in a knot, Michael made his first call.

“With how much trouble this could get me in, I should ask for at least ten free jobs,” Michael’s contact, a man named Caleb Brooks, said.

Caleb was a property manager who often worked closely with not only the governor, but also the president of Talam. He was well-respected in the field and had access to information about every government-owned building in the whole province of Neirea, not just the city of Linick. As for property owned by private citizens or businesses, it wouldn’t take him long to get information about them.

Caleb wasn’t exactly a frequent contact, as Michael didn’t have too many jobs which related to buildings, but at least once a year for the last five they’d gotten together and helped one another in whatever the other required: Caleb aided Michael for a job, while Michael occasionally did off-the-books investigative work for Caleb.

“Why’s that?” Michael said. “This job’s more serious than most of my other ones. The governor’s office should be completely fine with you helping me.”

“Should be,” Caleb said, then he took a sip from his coffee.

Caleb had been the first call Michael made, but he hadn’t been the last. Caleb had said he’d look into the building’s information, then nearly an hour passed before he contacted Michael again. Michael had spent that time discussing with other contacts when Caleb sent him another message, informing him to meet Caleb at a cafe near the Spire in half an hour. It had forced Michael away from his surveillance of the building, but he’d get right back to it after this little meeting with Caleb.

Which shouldn’t take too long. Both of them only ordered a small cup of coffee. A part of Michael wanted to get more: it was a brisk winter’s morning and flying around the rooftops hadn’t exactly been warming. Treats and warmth, however, were far from the most important things on Michael’s mind right now.

Michael’s wristband buzzed. His guildmate, Jeb, was trying to reach him. Michael ignored it. He’d contact Jeb again after this meeting, as he flew back to that warehouse.

“So what’s the problem?” Michael asked.

Caleb frowned, the wrinkles on his dark cheeks deepening. “You’re not the only Wielder I’ve helped for jobs. Been doing this a long time. Peace Keepers and guild members have been coming to me for years looking for information about a building here and there. Even the police.”

“I’m aware.”

Caleb leaned forward. “Today, while looking into your request, is the first time I got pushback.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Michael said. “I’m sure a lot of people don’t want their information given to random people, even if it’s to a Wielder.”

“Not what I’m talking about. I mean this is the first time I’ve been told to stop by my bosses.”

Michael took a sip of his own coffee to give himself a moment to think. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel the warmth from the drink this time around.

“Any idea why?” Michael asked.

“Not exactly. But….” Caleb glanced around, taking another sip. “There are stirrings in the office. This business you’re trying to stop is getting talked about. People are noticing the high rate of sudden kidnappings and rumors are buzzing through the Spire. But we got an official memo an hour ago telling us that anyone who was found discussing the kidnappings would be sent home early without pay.”

“Okay, that’s weird, but I wouldn’t exactly call that push-back.”

“I’m not finished. I still got the information on the warehouse, since that’s not talking about the kidnappings exactly. Not ten minutes after that, my boss came into my office. Explained that this is above my paygrade and I can’t look further into this, or share what I’ve learned.”

Michael’s brow furrowed. “You’re not implying the government has something to do with this, are you?”

Caleb leaned back and waved both his hands. “No, not at all. My boss said the governor’s Peace Keepers are gathering evidence and do not want any civilians interfering with their work.”

“The governor’s Peace Keepers are playing body-guard for the festival next week.”

“They can have more than one mission.”

“But they have to follow the orders they’re given. Unless told to act, they won’t.”

“I’m not here to stir up trouble between you and the Peace Keepers.”

“So what are you here for? Trying to convince me that I shouldn’t get involved? Just leave it to the Peace Keepers?”

“Officially, yes.” Caleb took another sip as Michael’s wristband buzzed again.

Jeb was still trying to call him. Michael, frowning, ignored him.

“Unofficially?” Michael asked.

“Those kidnappings are happening close to home,” Caleb said. “Rumor is it doesn’t matter your sex or your age. People as young as twenty and as old as seventy have been taken. Since I fall little past the middle of that, I’m in danger, too. And my daughter works in the Spire. Just got back to work from maternity leave. My granddaughter’s the cutest little thing. She needs her momma, and I’d like her granddaddy to be in her life, too.”

Caleb leaned forward again. “From what I can see, it looks like the Peace Keepers have firmly planted their hands beneath their asses. I want these people caught, in case my daughter or me are the next victims.”

Michael had joined Sacred Skies for many reasons. None of them included altruism. Over the years, however, Michael had found a purpose and sense of pride in helping others. Whenever there was a job that truly made a difference in someone’s life, Michael had always felt most fulfilled.

These were real people whose lives were currently upending. Real fear that they could be next and no one was trying to help them. No one but Michael.

“Tell me what you know,” Michael said. “And I’ll get these guys.”

Caleb’s smile was small. “The warehouse belongs to a relatively small conglomerate called Mercurial Path, which owns a few companies: Rossen Power, Grant Inc, Sekko Research, and Dustin Cosmetics. To my knowledge, each of these businesses have worked out of this warehouse.”

Michael took note of all those companies. Aside from Dustin Cosmetics, the other three primarily worked in technology manufacturing, which ranged from microchips in certain devices to weapons. They were on the list of smaller, less profitable tech businesses, as compared to Nadar and Trulson Tech. Still, they were relatively successful, to Michael’s knowledge. What was the purpose of kidnapping people?

Looked like he’d have to go around and interview them to find out.

“Thank you,” Michael said. “I’ll… hold on. I think I have to take this.”

His wristband had buzzed. Jeb was trying to reach him once again. Michael finally answered.

“What?” Michael said. “I’m a little busy.”

“Yeah, about that,” Jeb said, sounding a little awkward. Strange. The guy normally oozed with confidence, even when delivering bad news. “You’re out on that job, right?”

“Yes,” Michael said. “And I’m really busy with it.”

“That’s kind of why I’m calling. Look, you need to come back to the manor.”

Michael frowned. “Can’t do that. I got some info that will–”

“Legally, Mike,” Jeb said. “You legally need to come back to Sacred Skies. There’s a lawyer here who says she needs to talk with you, like, yesterday. She’s got documents and everything.”

Michael’s heart clenched, as did his teeth. It was through them he said, “I’ll be right over.”

“I’m going to make this brief,” the lawyer said, sitting in the very same chair Clarisse had sat in yesterday, begging for Michael to save her daughter. “My name is Selene Hicks, esquire.”

She flashed her credentials, showing she was a partner at Austin & Polk. Michael didn’t hide his frown. That was the largest firm in Linick and boasted the highest percentage of case victories in the province. Nothing good could come with them involved.

“Michael Jones,” Michael said, sitting across from her. “Sacred Skies member, Wind Weaver.”

“I’m aware of who you are. Are you aware you’ve been conducting an illegal investigation?”

“Nothing to be aware of, since I have been completely open with my investigation. I have gone through the police and only used the privileges allowed me by the law.”

“Not as of 7:36 this morning.” Selene expanded a tablet and slid it over the desk. A whole damned contract shone on the screen. “As you can see, this matter is entirely being done by local Peace Keepers. Any and all investigations into these sudden and tragic disappearances will be conducted by them. Any non-compliance on your part will be deemed an act of rebellion against the Peace Keepers. Said rebellion will be punished accordingly.”

Michael glared. “Are you threatening me?”

Despite her being a skinny pale woman who likely would only reach Michael’s chin while in heels, despite the fact that she – an average civilian – was face-to-face with a Wielder – whom most people considered semi-divine – Selene’s gaze never faltered. If anything, the corner of her mouth twitched up, as if she was enjoying this pissing match.

Which meant that, in her mind, she would win it.

“I would never dare,” Selene said. “I am but a messenger, explaining the wills of my clients and employer.”

Michael glowered at the tablet. The contract had been signed by the governor himself. So much for being too busy with the festival.

Selene reached over and snatched the tablet away, then stood. “Thank you for your understanding and cooperation in this matter.”

“It can’t end like this,” Michael found himself saying.

“Oh, it will not. Do you not remember? The local Peace Keepers will handle it. They have greater resources at their disposal to swiftly handle this issue than you ever could. Those victims will be in better hands with the Peace Keepers.”

Anger stoked Michael’s heart. He also rose, standing a whole head above her as he’d figured he would. “What hands? The Peace Keepers are too busy being bodyguards than investigators! The whole time I’ve been working this case, I haven’t seen or heard from them once.”

“Our leaders know what they’re doing. They have prioritized the most important mission first.”

“So a festival is more important than the lives of the common person?”

Selene’s blue eyes narrowed. “That is outside either of our paygrade. This conversation is done, as it is going nowhere. Have a good rest of your day, Michael Jones of Sacred Skies.”

“Wait!” Michael said as Selene turned to leave. She stopped at the door. “I have information, data that maybe the Peace Keepers don’t have yet. If I can’t work the case alone, let me at least contact them and provide them with everything I have.”

Selene turned her head over her shoulder. Her expression suggested she was watching a child who thought he could end world hunger by hosting a bake sale.

“That is entirely unnecessary,” Selene said. “The Peace Keepers have all the information they need.”

“But–”

“And, as I stated previously, anything you do from here on out will be considered an act of rebellion against the Peace Keepers and will be handled accordingly.”

Without another word, Selene exited the room, leaving Michael alone in silence.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked an hour later. 

An hour of stewing in his own anger, frustration, and disappointment in himself. An hour of silently raging and wracking his brain to figure out a way to complete his mission. An hour to realize that he would, in fact, let all those people down.

As Michael was very well aware at this point, the government had eyes almost everywhere in this city. They could even access Sacred Skies’ security feed if they pushed hard enough for it. It wouldn’t be a surprise if they had an algorithm set to examine Michael’s face and body features to track his movements in the city, just in case he got any funny ideas and tried to investigate the missing persons.

He could always fly around the pockets of places that didn’t have any cameras, but then they’d likely get a warrant to find his wristband’s and tablet’s location. He could always fly around without his tech, but then he wouldn’t know exactly where the government cameras were.

No. This was probably the end of Michael’s investigation. An end which wouldn’t begin again until the festival ended.

In five days.

“Oh, I’m closing your case,” Hasi said, standing beneath the middle screen on the wall which was nearby Kayla and the receptionist desk.

The right screen showed job all the jobs that had yet to be accepted by a guildmember – which was steadily growing since most Sacred Skies members were working the festival – and the left screen displayed the jobs that had been completed – which also displayed the level of difficulty for the job and the member or members who’d completed it. It made for friendly competition among the guild and was something Michael was always proud to see filled out. His own name stood proudly at the top, across the screen from the mission he’d worked with Jordan Moore what had felt so long ago.

The middle screen, however, presented the ongoing missions. It was so the guildmembers and clients could see what they were currently working on and whether they would be too busy to take on or accept any other jobs.

Twelve of Sacred Skies’ fifteen members were working the festival job. Hasi and Jeb were working a mission that apparently would bring them into the mountains north of Linick for a few days. And Michael, alone, was working the missing persons case.

Or, he supposed, he wasn’t anymore.

“Boss wants it done soon,” Hasi said. “I didn’t know how long you would take in there, so…”

“Stop,” Michael said as Hasi was about to press her tablet. “I got it.”

Hasi sighed and handed Michael her tablet, with which she had been about to end the job. Michael’s finger hovered over the screen.

“Michael?” Hasi said.

Lips thin, Michael activated his wristband, found what he was searching for, then connected it to the middle screen. Rachel’s picture, where she smiled so brightly in the park, appeared in between the job title and Michael’s name.

“What are you doing?” Hasi asked.

“Job’s not done yet,” Michael said.

“You can’t work it anymore,” Hasi said. “Boss said that–”

“We don’t get to brush this under the rug,” Michael said. “Rachel’s still missing. Clarisse doesn’t even have closure. All those other people, taken, are still gone. There’s nothing about this job that’s closed, Hasi. So until all those people are found, this job is still ongoing.”

“You’re going to get into a lot of trouble.”

“Fumiko won’t push back too hard on this.”

“I meant with the law.”

“I won’t break the law. I’ll just…”

“Just what? Look at her face every day? Torture yourself knowing that you can’t do anything about it?”

Michael’s hands clenched. “If that’s what it takes to make this place acknowledge that this job wasn’t just a breath in the breeze.”

“Michael…”

Michael returned her tablet. “Don’t close the job. Every time you do, I’ll reopen it. Again and again, until she’s found.”

Michael hadn’t expected much backlash from Fumiko. He had, however, expected some.

Instead, Fumiko had seen him staring at Rachel’s picture a few hours later. She’d been more supportive than he’d expected. She’d only pleaded Michael visibly do nothing illegal, both outside the manor and within. She basically confirmed his suspicions about being watched with that, then simply left him to be. So, that had gone over far better than he’d expected.

Sadly, talking to Clarisse about the case had been worse. As she babbled, confused, about why this was happening, Michael couldn’t do much more than apologize.

“I’m sorry,” Michael had said repeatedly.

After she collected herself, Clarisse shook her head. Sniffling, she said, “It’s not your fault, Wondrous Wind Weaver. Thank you, for taking this so seriously.”

That took the breath from his lungs faster than his Gift. He’d only started this job to get away from the Peace Keepers at the festival. He’d even believed the worst of Clarisse, and that Rachel was simply trying to avoid contacting her.

If he’d taken this more seriously from the start, could he have found her before the governor’s office stopped him?

That feeling drew him into a haze. Over the next several days, Michael continued to hear report after report of more people going missing. Every day, he stared at Rachel’s picture in the Sacred Skies’ atrium, counting the minutes until this damned thanksgiving festival was over.

Then, finally, the day of the festival, Michael woke late. Both Jeb and Hasi were returning from their mission in the mountains, while Luis was resting in the large hot tub near the entrance.

“Isn’t the festival happening, like, now?” Michael asked.

Luis craned his head back to look at Michael. “Worked double-time this morning, so they gave me a nice little break. Thought I’d spend it in the tub, ya know?”

“All that work this week, just to be allowed a break during the actual festival?”

“Well, it wasn’t that easy. I owe a couple people I’d really rather not be in debt to some favors. But I wanted to get back to see you. Got something to tell you.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Yeah, but get your bathing suit on and get in here. It’s awkward looking at you from this angle.”

“Just tell me now.”

“I want you more relaxed when we talk. When’s the last time you took a dip?”

“Since before the Rachel job.”

“Exactly. Go. Suit, bath, now.”

Michael grumbled, but listened. It felt almost offensive as he lowered into the hot water. Why would he get to rest, sigh in contentment, and loosen his taut muscles while, by now, more than twenty people had been kidnapped in the last week?

“So, what did you want to tell me?” Michael said.

“It’s actually something Officer Puck wanted me to tell you,” Luis said, voice low. “Clarisse, the woman who came to you about her missing daughter, has gone missing, too.”

Michael’s heart clenched. How? From the file, she didn’t live or work anywhere close to the administrative district where everyone had been kidnapped. What was she doing out there?

Michael’s breathing came labored. What if she had been looking for her daughter? Without help from the police or Peace Keepers, what if she had taken initiative to try and find her daughter?

What if, because Michael could no longer do anything, he had gotten her kidnapped, too?

A Peace Keeper entered through Sacred Skies’ large open doors. Michael had never seen this one before: he was tall, but not Michael’s size, and he clearly had ample amounts of muscles beneath his Peace-Keeper uniform. He gazed around the atrium and the artwork on the wall with a gleam in his dark folded eyes, one which seemed jovial and juvenile. It was the exact opposite look that his professional uniform and tightly bunned black hair gave off.

He walked past the pool and made his way to the counter, where Kayla was talking to a client. Just before there, both Hasi and Jeb were looking at the new job openings. Right in front of where Michael had kept Rachel’s picture. The Peace Keeper began talking to Hasi and Jeb. Then Michael turned away.

Who the hell was this Peace Keeper, barging into his home and pretending to be impressed? Peace Keepers had always looked down on guilds. Peace Keepers were the ones who always threw their superiority around and belittled the work guilds did. And now, it was Peace Keepers who’d allowed so many people to get kidnapped, while forcing Michael to sit back and watch it all happen.

Because of Peace Keepers, mother had followed daughter, and Clarisse was missing just like Rachel.

“I’m sorry, man,” Luis said. “But it’ll get better soon. Starting tomorrow, the Peace Keepers will figure all this out.”

“We shouldn’t have to wait for tomorrow.” Michael lowered his face toward the water and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. “But it’s not like someone is going to show up and do something about it. Miracles don’t just fall from the sky like that.”