Memory Transcription Subject: Hileen, Krakotl Fugitive Recovery Agent

  Date [standardized human time]: November 8th, 2136

  Having finally met the enigmatic neighbors the other day, I was content to sit on the landing outside our doors to chat. Vili and Luka stood apart from me despite my best efforts to dissuade any notion of fear they'd have of predators, though I eventually settled for standing by my door like them as we chatted.

  “... but no, I don't think I've ever had to break out the zapper before then, y’know?”

  Luka absentmindedly flicked an ear and I saw his tail sway by his ankles. He didn't seem entirely engaged in the conversation, like his thoughts were elsewhere.

  Inversely, Vili stared at me with wide eyes, and I wasn't sure she had made any other expression since we started chatting. She offered the occasional vocalization to let me know she was listening, things like “oh”, “mm”, and “wow”. Still, I was certain she was as interested in our conversation as her brother.

  “So yeah, a lotta people have had their perception of my job turned on its head since… that. But I'm trying to get back into the groove of things, protect the public and all that.”

  “Right, right.”

  “So what do the two of you think of the Terrans? Can't go anywhere without seeing them.”

  The two of them instantly snapped to attention like I'd just informed them I was a sea slug or something. They shot glances at each other, communicating something in their venlilish ear-and-tail speak and I was immediately intrigued at the change in attitude.

  “They're alright,” Luka replied flatly. “Actually met one recently.”

  “Really? What were they like?”

  “Well, they were big, and super serious. Came to our aid when things were rough.”

  I tilted my head. “Wait. Are you referring to the human from the diner?”

  The twins stared at me as I racked my head for the name.

  “Cur… Crah… Crow! Richard Crow!”

  “That's him,” Vili affirmed with a caustic tone. Luka lowered an ear and waggled the other, which I vaguely understood to be an offhand way to tell someone to be quiet under certain circumstances.

  To my understanding, Crow was quite a ways from here and lived amidst a group of humans who were reputed for being aggressive to outsiders, if the information gathered by journalist research was anything to go by. Still, I'd read enough of their so-called “informative” articles on how to be wary around gentled predator associates to know not to believe every word they dispensed.

  Luka explained “She and him have their… differences.”

  “Is that why Markol was warning the others against predator guests?”

  Vili shuffled in place and shifted her gaze away from Luka when he shot her a dissuasive glance, pursing her lips and folding her ears back. Actions speak.

  “I see. Well, I won't prod for details if it's that much of an issue.”

  “I-it's really not,” Luka stammered, “we just—”

  “We're talking it out,” Vili cut him off.

  Without another word, the taller venlil stormed back through the door, leaving Luka alone and with a bewildered look on his face. He turned back to me and sighed. “I appreciate you taking the time to come out and talk… we're just a bit stressed from the move and everything that happened.”

  I waved a wing in dismissal. “I've been there. My parents and siblings did everything they could to keep me from moving to Venlil Prime for art school. We still have things to sort through.”

  “You too, huh?”

  “Family's a hard thing to deal with. They want what's best for you, and you also want what's best for you.”

  His eyes lowered to the floor. “Maybe there's a… few gaps in our experiences, then. Thank you, again.”

  With a more courteous farewell, Luka followed suit with his sister and ducked back through their door. The cool puff of air from how low venlil kept their living spaces washed over me as the door shut.

  I sighed, knowing with the end of our talk that I now had other things to attend to. Pulling my holopad out of my belt pocket, I saw that my daily check-in with Barsul was coming up, and I had to get going to ensure he stayed put with groceries and whatnot. The ankle bracelet he was fitted with by the city court was also connected to my holopad, and would inform me if he were to ever leave the house without the consent of a city official, so I'd know if he left anyway.

  Catching a bus headed for his neighborhood, I tried to think about how I could get on the twins’ good side. They seemed to be mistrustful of new faces for sure, gathering from the cold shoulder they gave me and just about everyone else they were seen speaking with. There was a small comfort to be had that it wasn't because of my nature that they were so skittish, at least.

  On that note, it was hard to ignore the fact that the seat next to myself remained vacant, being that the bus filled with venlil and a single sivkit seated at the front. They averted their eyes when my gaze fell on them, avoiding eye contact as I sat with my feet tucked in and my wings at my side. Some even chose to stand over sitting next to me.

  My stop couldn't come soon enough, and it was only when the tension grew too much that we finally rolled up to the curb near my destination. I was the first to depart since most of the passengers moved aside when my talons clattered on the floor as I got in line behind them.

  Barsul's house wasn't too far from here, being rather cushy for a one bed, one bath bungalow. He'd dispensed the soapbox tale of his life before moving there, about how he had kids and a wife before they left him and insisted that he was perfectly fine there without them. The tears and wobbly voice as he did so made it a hard sell, though.

  Lore on his home aside, I was still perplexed as to how an old man running such a small diner as his could afford a residence in this part of town. The place didn’t look all that special when I was down there, and I can’t imagine it’d have had much more charm when it wasn’t trashed by a predator.

  Besides, there was a prevailing culture of eating at home as of late, as food prices had begun to bloat to the point that buying fruit cost an extra two credits per bunch; at the typical restaurant triple markup on products sold, that’d be quite the pricey plate. I personally hadn’t eaten out since the interview, but that was simply out of respect for the establishments’ best interests, since customers weren’t keen on sticking around with a “predator” about.

  I was already growing weary of that same song and dance. Most folks would ignore me in public, though others would make such a big deal about my presence that the rest might see fit to not be left out. It probably didn’t help that my red plumage stuck out like a sore feather root amidst the drab crowds of gray, white, and tan.

  Barsul’s gaudy blue house came into view as I made my way along and I decided to put a button on the thoughts that kept me down while I was here.

  Tuk tuk.

  A knock on the door yielded no results and I sighed. He could get as prissy as he’d like about the circumstances but it was my job to ensure he made it to trial. “Open up,” I called to him to no avail.

  Another knock.

  I waited for too long, and my mind wandered to less pleasant outcomes. There were some who feared being brought to justice or believed that their case was lost before being brought to trial. In such cases, they might resort to extreme measures to postpone trial or… delay it indefinitely.

  I had no experience with such instances save for a couple that simply tried to escape to another precinct. Their plan was flawless, save for the fact that they paid for board and bed under their legal names and numbers while staying only an hour’s ride away.

  One more knock before I forced the door open. “Barsul, open up.”

  No activity for a while and I clicked my beak in irritation. I steeled myself for what I might find inside as I reached for the door.

  And it swung open.

  Barsul stood in front of me, looking like the walking dead with his old, green feathers and eyes that were almost glued shut with gunk.

  “Harvest above, old man, were you waiting for me to break the door down?”

  “I was waiting to die in my sleep. Come in.”

  I crossed the threshold while letting out a sigh of relief.

  His place was as posh as ever, being overly decorated for one man - replicas of popular paintings and printed model ships were strewn about the place and a fancy, high-tech range graced the kitchen counter. I avoided clipping a wing on the pile of magazines adorning a corner table, being stacked so high that even a feather's touch might snap the flimsy furniture legs.

  I followed Barsul to the kitchen where there were boxes piled up with his name on them. He had them packed up the last time I was here and even though I was certain he wasn't getting off scot-free, seeing him already prepared for it was a bleak outlook indeed.

  Already knowing the answer, I asked him, “How's things with you? Groceries okay? Medication?”

  He pushed a chair up against the table.

  “Painkillers haven't been working the same since that predator. Old wounds have been making themselves known again since then.”

  “That wasn't the question.”

  “Everything's dandy.” His tone was a touch more caustic than I cared for, but I dismissed it as I gave the ankle bracelet a once-over to determine if there was any tinkering with it.

  All three systems shined with affirming lights that they were fully functional and activated - Marlig would be notified if they were tampered with regardless, but it was still good to check.

  I asked him, “Have you spoken with Marlig lately?”

  “What's there to say? That I regret how things turned out, that I'll change my ways and turn over a new leaf?”

  “Could just be that he wants to talk to an old friend, but you can be a drama queen all you like and sulk. Won't be helping your case any.”

  “Fine, I'll give him a call when I find the time.”

  I stepped about the kitchen while checking the windows for any tampering with the sensors placed there. The door and skylight's sensors were more analogue in the form of fiberglass meshes that'd trigger at any disturbance that broke the circuit. A cursory glance was all I afforded as I wasn't going to go through the meticulous steps of making sure they were intact every time I was here; Marlig could moan about that all he'd like, they worked just fine all the same.

  “Haven't touched nothin’,” Barsul grumbled. “Hallelujah, I'm reformed and am ready to integrate back into society.”

  “Save your snark for the Justice Committee,” I shot back. “They'll adore it, I'm sure.”

  I wandered to the bedroom door, cracking it open to look inside.

  Desolate as always, the only sign that his bedroom was lived-in was the oval-cushioned futon sat next to a desk that could have been made out of paperclips and wood scrap for how flimsy it was. I checked under the bed, flipping the sheets and lifting the cushion to ensure there were no materials that were prohibited.

  Clean as always, but kinda creepy how dim and lifeless the only room in the house that was designed for actual living appeared.

  Satisfied that he wasn't plotting a dash while I wasn't looking or harboring contraband, I eased up and returned to the kitchen to lean against the island.

  “But I am wondering something,” I clucked. “How is it that you've bounced in and out of court so much without any charges sticking?”

  “Someone must like me.” The lack of hesitation did not reveal it to be a well-informed answer.

  “Surprised there’s someone whose toes you haven’t stepped on.”

  His irritated warble as I stepped away was vindicating in a way, though it wasn't worth prodding. I shouldn't have expected a real answer to begin with but it remained a question that bounced around in my mind, since nobody else had an answer.

  “Well, now that I’m certain you won’t be making a dash for the nearest spaceport, I’m going to go back home. I’ll be by in a couple more days to check up on you - behave until then.”

  He jolted the leg with which the bracelet was mounted. “Always.”

  The visit was mercifully short, which was a mixed blessing since it meant that I trekked all the way here for naught but to fulfill my checklist of responsibility. It was times like this that I wished I had considered getting a vehicle for personal transportation; Flurik, one of my peers, had one, and he could cart his contracts about like it was nothing. Carith, too.

  Still, I got a few extra credits to keep Barsul contained while the city did the thing they were good at where they always ran behind schedule.

  The next bus that'd be coming by would be going across the channel, which was not conducive to my plan on arriving home in time to catch the reruns of my favorite show. I couldn't fly, either, since flight was prohibited in the city up to a certain altitude as well as completely in many zones to prevent winds that reflected off of the taller, wind-resistant buildings from posing a danger to the unwary commuter.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  That left the next fastest route home on foot. For what it was worth, it'd give me time to come up with how I could convince the twins to lighten up.

  It was an odd endeavor to worry so much about what a couple of kids thought about me, but there was something about them that was so striking, like a puzzle piece that I couldn't find the place for. Why were they so cautious of new people they'd met? Why, then, were they so passive about the presence of predators? Or at least, why they weren’t quivering at the very mention of them.

  I traversed the first crosswalk with my mind elsewhere, tripping over the curb in my absence. Clucking and flapping my wings to stay upright, I eventually managed to get myself back into a standing position. When I raised my head, I was greeted with dozens of horrified glances from the locals. One lady wielded her bag of urongi citrus above her head like an improvised weapon while a man stood with arms stretched out wide to protect his cowing spouse and offspring from my impromptu dance routine.

  “Sorry, everyone,” I announced. “Little slippery out today.”

  Despite that, they refused to carry on, choosing instead to watch my every step as I moseyed on past them. It was more of the same thing wherever I went.

  Perhaps it was my red plumage that made me stand out, or maybe I carried myself in such a quaint manner that people couldn't help but notice; either way, it was taking more of a toll on me to not give the onlookers a piece of my mind as the scene replayed itself. So much for a city of progressives.

  Well on my way past the intersection, I had some room to breathe away from the crowded streets as I reached the midway point home. The smells of saccharine grains being baked into loaves tickled at my nostrils, making my stomach grumble at the very idea of getting a bite. However, the thought of a delectable pastry remained on the backburner as I caught sight of an old shop.

  I’d passed by this spot a few times on my way to or from Barsul’s, though I hadn’t really considered that the place looked like it was held up by spit and a dream until I took the time. The sign out front claimed the place had been in business for over 150 years, which I found hard to disprove based on the look of things.

  Celebrate the holiday season with your friends! Christ’s Mass in stock while supplies last!

  I had no idea what “Christ-Mass” was or who these “friends” were that you were supposed to celebrate it with. Maybe it was one of those holidays that social media grifters invented to earn a quick credit off of merchandise?

  Stepping up to the window, I peeked at the display through the streaked and chipped window. The feathers on my neck stood on end as I was greeted in turn with the sight of a predator and I prepared to step back.

  I collected myself before I could panic, however, and as I returned to the window, I could see that it was indeed a human - at least, it was a felt effigy of one. It was covered in strange, woven pelts across its body, appearing to resemble cold-weather gear worn by wasteland explorers who dared to venture near Venlil Prime's frigid uninhabitable zones. They were posed to present a colorful box of sorts, with a silky ribbon adorning the top and a tag dangling off to the side, lazily swaying in the conditioned air within.

  Curiosity got the better of me and I stepped inside to the reception of a door chime and the overwhelming odor of ancient must and perfume. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the fluorescent lighting before I curiously stepped further in. The shelves were stocked with the usual, ranging from spare batteries and dried food packets to shampoo and ear cleaners for every species.

  What's more, was that most of the shelves had a strange garb of shiny, green vines made from what appeared to be synthetic materials woven between a polymer rope. The aesthetic was unlike anything I'd seen, and so I presumed that it was related to this “Christ-Mass” holiday that was apparently only celebrated by this one store in the middle of town.

  A younger paltan could be seen in the back of the store, carrying a box of things to stuff on the shelf, and an older venlil man occupied the register with a melancholy look upwards at the ceiling.

  “Evening, old timer,” I greeted the man as I approached. “What's with the…”

  His eyes lowered to me as I waved a wing to the rest of the store and his ears lowered a bit.

  “All this about?”

  “What could you mean by ‘this?’”

  “The decor, it's just so—”

  “Different? Predatory?”

  I reeled at the defensive tone he took up so quickly and he glowered at me with an unusually hostile look.

  “I'll have you know that there's nothing wrong with celebrating foreign holidays at the best of times, but for so many people to come in here and start trouble over a few Terran decorations is ridiculous! What's so wrong about a man showing some appreciation for his soon-to-be daughter-in-law by celebrating their favorite holiday?”

  “Boss.”

  “And so what if they defy every ideal taught to us by the Federation? They're people too! Just like you and me!

  “Boss—”

  “I love my predatory family members and friends, and I love that I'm not afraid to show love to those who deserve it! So why don't you—

  “Boss.”

  The old timer instantly adopted a much sweeter tone as he addressed the paltan. “Yes, Viltz?”

  “You're doing it again. The thing.”

  “The thing?” He turned his gaze back to me while I stood motionless, unsure if talking would provoke another long-winded lecture. “Oh, the thing!”

  He immediately straightened up and whipped his tail into shape in yet another split-second change in demeanor. “Forgive me,” he laughed. “I get those kinds of questions enough that it's become second nature to assume they're meant to be a little more provocative… You weren't meaning anything by it, right?”

  “No, nothing at all. In fact, I know a few predators myself!”

  Know and few were a bit of a stretch, but I figured it'd help to alleviate the silvered man's worries.

  “It's good to hear there's still people so open-minded in the world in these trying times,” he lamented. “So what can I do you for? Doing a bit of window shopping?”

  “Well, I was curious what this ‘Christ-Mass’ was, and what's so important about it?”

  “It's a holiday celebrated on Earth, wherein an old human man in a sleigh pulled by flying wingless prey delivers presents to children all over the world in one night.”

  I tilted my head and turned to the paltan kid, whose eyes were glazed over in boredom as he continued with stocking the shelf without so much as flinching.

  “I— Is there a point to the holiday? Beyond such a fantastical premise?”

  “My daughter's fiance was never too specific in what it meant, so I’ve just rolled with it. Still, it's a good story to tell the kids, no?”

  “Quite the tale indeed.”

  “It was easy to get in some stock for the occasion, too; apparently, Terran businesses recognize the potential of shipping paraphernalia for the holiday to other planetary markets. If you're looking to check what we have, I've a shelf over by the lawn clippers reserved for decorations and gifts and whatnot.”

  He motioned with his tail and ear to a corner of the small store where the color of the stock stood out amidst the otherwise practical supplies. I took him up on his offer and turned to investigate the corner.

  The contents of the shelves were colorful indeed, enough so that some of the silvery ribbons on the shelves grew irritatingly bright as they reflected the relatively dull ceiling lights into my avian oculars. I thumbed through an assortment of strange items, from rings of plastic plants to impressively artistic displays of Terran homes captured in ceramic. I was vexed by the selection of items that were expected to be gifted to somebody.

  There were even a few analogue books with a descriptor hand-written in Venlil: “Songs for Caroling - Includes dozens of Christmas classics!” I wasn’t aware there were Christmas currents until now, though I had to admit that the idea of having music to pore over was tempting. It’d been years since I participated in a choir with my family, and it brought back a feeling of nostalgia for better times.

  I clicked my tongue in thought as the Paltan kid continued to shuffle alongside the shelves, pushing older products to the foreground while stuffing the back with whatever he could fit. All the while having that same stupefied expression, he seemed to get along with his boss enough to call him out on pointless rants. Surely, that could only indicate that the old man wasn’t simply senile or selling whatever human products he could get his paws on for a quick profit.

  My fingers brushed over one of the books, wondering if it’d be uncourteous to open it and read the contents before paying.

  Bzzt!

  I sighed as my holopad rang and I removed my wing from the book, lifting the buzzing device from my satchel. It was Marlig.

  “Come again!” the old man called to me as I hustled out the door. I just might.

  Outside, I accepted the call and tried to contain my irritation. “I thought I told you I got it handled,” I grumbled to him.

  “Funny you should say that, since I just got a report from Barsul’s monitoring that there’s been a breach. I need you to go back and check up on him. Bring him back if he’s tried something.”

  “It’s probably the flimsy mesh you had set up getting tugged a little too hard in the wind. It should be fine.”

  “Hileen.”

  “Gch. Alright, I’ll check in. But I’ll be complaining every step of the way.”

  “Wouldn’t expect anything less from you, take care.”

  “You too.”

  ===

  Back at Barsul’s place, I was ready for whatever might have transpired despite my complaints with Marlig. I stood at the front door again and knocked.

  No response.

  That was just about all the evidence I needed that there was something amiss. I stepped away from the porch, ready to investigate the backside to see where he could’ve gone. My talons left little punctures in the grass as I readied myself for a chase.

  Then the door clicked open.

  “Who the fuck—?”

  I was back to the door as quickly as he had realized I was there. “Up to something, Barsul? Got a report that one of the systems was triggered.”

  “Oh, I’m up to something alright. Up to my fucking limit with your attitude.”

  “Well I’m glad to hear then, that you wouldn’t mind me checking on things to make sure they’re still in order?”

  “Fine, go ahead. Just don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out because I won’t be holding it for you.”

  He stepped aside and let me pass by to watch as I waltzed my way to the back, eyeing the windows and skylight again.

  They were still latched shut as they were before, and there was no telltale audible signal of a breach from either. That left only the back door.

  I could see that it had been left cracked open, though I wasn’t certain if I had left it that way when I left. Gripping the handle with a finger, I slid the door open.

  The gossamer threads that were stretched between the doorway’s thresholds had been clearly disturbed, at least around ankle height. Certainly, that wasn’t enough clearance for the portly krakotl to crawl through in a dash for independence, especially when the front door was otherwise unprotected.

  From behind, Barsul grumbled, “Told him those things were a waste of money - too sensitive, too tedious.”

  “You too? Guess a paralyzed retrix is still good in two directions.”

  “Mock me all you'd like,” he sneered. “I've been begging him to be responsible with his spending since the navy. That’s longer than you’ve been around, hatchling.”

  A cursory check of the systems to see if there was anything else wrong with them showed all systems were nominal. I huffed and stood up in disbelief that my time was wasted by such a banal fluke with the design of a machine. Gimmicky, overengineered, and—

  The faintest motion caught my eye from behind the counter, hardly a flick of color against the drab floor's hue. It was dark and fuzzy from the minute glimpse I got of it as it left my vision.

  I turned to Barsul, who gave the same vacant glance he always afforded me when he was eager to be rid of me. He either hadn't noticed what I had, or he was trying to play it off. It didn't sit well either way.

  He was not to have visitors outside of approved, supervised hours, and so for him to not only insult Marlig's spending habits but to then also fly in the face of the biggest rule he had set in place was mind-bogglingly foolish. The more I divided my attention between the counter and the green-feathered codger, the more worried I became that I was in an outnumbered situation.

  Many stories of other agents’ escapees would involve not just the actions of one, but cooperation with sympathizers who colluded to help them escape. Some were family, some were friends but most were people who had their own sense of justice. What persisted through all these instances was the chance that confronting any one of them could turn nasty.

  But I was certain I could handle whoever he brought in. Whatever I saw, it couldn't have been that large - no venlil or sivkit were so quiet as the third party in the room. Maybe a dossur, or a paltan.

  With that in mind, I took a tentative step toward the corner where I saw them first while keeping one eye on Barsul in case he tried anything. My charge’s eyes followed me as I stepped aside to investigate, tilting his head in a show of confusion.

  “Washroom's the other way,” he stated with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

  “Really.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “What are you doing?”

  He winced like I'd dealt him a blow to the forehead. “What's the point of your—”

  “Mind your business.”

  “Fine. Minding my business.”

  There was silence for a second, interrupted by the whirr of a car passing outside. Nothing else could be heard that wasn't the sounds of the city going about her evening.

  Then a shuffle.

  “Aha!” I jumped onto the island countertop to get the drop on whoever it could have been.

  And nothing.

  I tilted my head to make sure nothing was in my blind spot, but found not a person beneath me. Rather, I spotted curious patterns on the brighter linoleum pattern that lined the kitchen to inform of spills. It'd be impossible for the average joe to see even then, but krakotl eyesight lent itself to my investigation from my perch on high.

  Pawprints, small and sparse. Like a venlil's, but tiny and with an extra toe. The pattern showed that there seemed to be a lack of a clear front-back leg weight distribution, which would be unusual for someone as small as a dossur who also didn't have such rounded toe pads.

  “Hey, that counter ain't built for assholes to stand on,” Barsul finally protested as I leaned forward to analyze the miniscule dirt prints emblazoned on his floor.

  “Got a visitor, Barsul?” I asked him. “Who's here?”

  My question was greeted with an annoyed cluck from the rambunctious old man, but no other response. I stretched my foot to the floor and stooped over the dirty trail of evidence.

  Definitely quadrupedal, but definitely not of a dichotomy I was familiar with. Rounded, with too many toes for a dossur; too small for a venlil or sivkit.

  And they led right into the cupboard.

  We krakotl weren't reputed for our impressive auricular and olfactory senses like other species, but I didn't need those to know that something was up. Barsul checked over the counter to where I was preparing myself for whatever I might find.

  Look at him, acting so innocent like he hasn't a clue what's happening.

  I popped the door open and snapped my head downward to find the enigmatic intruder.

  Pots, pans, and some faded ceramics filled the shelf in an untidy tangle of dusty handles. But nobody was in sight.

  I popped open the second door and checked there as well, but to the same result. He even had a stewing pot that had enough dust to clog a ship’s filtration system if I gave it a little shake.

  “Who’s here?” I demanded. “Show yourself.”

  Barsul tittered and asked, “Intimidated by mid-price cookery?”

  “The only thing intimidating about it is what better shape you'd be in if you actually used any of it.”

  He hissed in irritation. “The nerve of you to come into my home, insult me, and then accuse me of crimes I haven't committed! And to think I'm the one on trial for Predator's Dis— ough whatdafuckisthat!”

  I caught what he saw at the same time and froze as he stumbled backwards.

  Peering back at me from the pale dark, a slick and slender figure stood. Black and quadrupedal, and with two triangular ears that stood upright to reveal pink flesh beneath.

  And eyes. Amber and aimed. At me.

  My beak cracked open as the horrid beast glowered at us, standing still with a paw hanging out of the cabinet. In its mouth…

  “Barsul, get back.”

  “It's in my house!”

  “Shut up and get back!”

  We had no sooner stepped back when the beast took its cue, dashing for the door with its quarry. A black blur, the only sound it made as it escaped was the rustling as it charged through the leaves gathered outside.

  Barsul and I stood in silence for a long while, trying to make heads of what we just saw. The animal was like no beast I'd ever seen, and it was too big to sneak about undetected for very long. It had a tail almost as long as its body and moved with a cold, coordinated strut that could never belong to prey. It barely even made a noise as it moved before it hit the turf.

  “What do we do about it?” Barsul clucked. “Will the Exterminators even answer?”

  I considered my options. “They might. But maybe we don't want that kind of heat in your place when there's already a case being built against you.”

  “What, then?”

  Watching out the window to ensure the beast was well and truly gone, I braced myself for my own answer. “I think I know one or two who could help us apprehend a potential predator infestation.”