Negotiations had been vigorous and had kept him up most of the night. Once their business was concluded, Orel had passed the remainder of the night alternating between drinking with his client and enjoying the company of Vala, the slave girl the prince had presented as a gift to celebrate a bargain well-struck. She had delayed him again this morning: he had woken to find her doing something to him with her massive breasts that he found irresistible. The prince had woken up from all the noise, taken one look at the trick Vala was doing, and had naturally insisted on joining in…

  It was noon, or near enough, as Orel returned home. He'd forgotten his cloak, his clothes were rumpled, and his legs felt weak. The Spark couldn't say if that was from what he'd consumed the night before or what he'd done with his guests. He paused on a corner to yawn and stretch. He had yet to eat breakfast, his morning consumed by massive bouncing tits and a client who would not shut up about all the plans he had for when he was Maharaja. He was tired, too. Had he even managed to sleep an hour? Orel did not know, and the night's debaucheries had left him too frayed to even guess. He procured a vial from one of his pockets, one of many he kept on his person. The Spark knew them all by the shape of their corks, an idea he'd stumbled across after one particularly unfortunate mishap. The scaled made no effort to hide his actions as he popped the stopper on the vial of white powder, held it to his noes, and snorted some into each nostril. The chemical went to work on contact, sending fire through his veins and blasting the cobwebs in his head away. He let out a cry of delight, provoking stares of confusion and fear from passers-by. The Spark did not give a damn. Breakfast could wait! He had work to do, and a meddling guest to deal with, back home.

  The feeling of power carried him all the way back home. Some he passed recognised him and hurled insults or toothless threats. None dared act on their brave words, though. Between the Spark’s star stone and his connections to men of influence on both sides of the law, only those seeking to lose a hand would dare lay one on him in the open.

  Orel found Ami, one of his favourite girls, awaiting his return in the hall when he burst in. At once, he knew something was amiss. Her breasts, two particularly lively specimens that each seemed to have a mind of their own when she skipped for him, were covered. She was trying to keep a brave face, and failing.

  “What is it?” Orel asked her.

  “Master, your guest left early this morning. He went to the Governor’s palace, looking very angry.”

  “And you didn’t stop him?” he demanded, perhaps harsher than he needed to.

  Ami cowered. “We did try, Master, but nothing we did seemed to work,” she insisted.

  “Oh, yes,” Orel sighed, suddenly remembering a key detail about Theo. “I forgot about that.” I should have sent over a pair of rent boys from my office. He pinched the bridge of his snout between his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and counted to three before sighing and relaxing. “Look, Ami, relax. Forgive yourself. I do. How could I ever stay angry at those?”

  The scaled placed his hands on her breasts, the powder fuelling a hunger that had nothing to do with his scrawny trunk. His crotch ached, but that didn't stop Orel from thinking about how Ami was naked underneath all her clothes. He had her tits out and his forked tongue licking at her nipples before the girl had time to protest, not that she would. For one, the Spark paid well. For another, no woman entered his employ unaware of his proclivities or his expectations.

  “He came back,” Ami screeched, in between squeaks and gasps as he pressed her against the nearest wall. “He came back half an hour ago, Master! Oh!”

  Well, that killed the mood. Orel rolled his eyes and pulled his face back from where he had been wedging it.

  “My lab?” he asked, trying to straighten his clothes before remembering how futile the effort would be.

  “Yes, Master,” Ami confirmed.

  With a growl, Orel nodded. “Clean yourself up, Ami. Make me some coffee and tidy the house, or something. I don’t care, just get out of my sight!”

  Ami obeyed, covering herself up as she raced to the kitchens. Orel was too angry to even watch her go. He went up the stairs to his lab immediately, quietly fuming. That anger blazed the hotter when he threw open the door to his lab and realised that Theo had not returned alone. The girl apparently couldn't tell one minotaur from the other, no matter how different the colours of their fur or their statures. Theo was here, as Ami had said, but so was Adrian. His presence left Orel startled but his powder was still in full effect and helped him regain his cool.

  “Good morning, Theo,” he said, ignoring the bereaved guardsman for the moment.

  “Good afternoon, Spark,” answered the witch hunter, tone measured and even.

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  “Been busy?”

  “Unlike you,” Adrian growled. He was standing near the balcony, his bare, powerful arms crossed over his chest. He was out of his armour and dressed in what a soldier like him might think were civilian clothes. The bull remained armed, however, with his longsword and a dagger on the belt at his waist. Theo sat on the couch, tense. His body language did little to reveal his mood, but his eyes betrayed his hate. Orel met his stare for a moment before rolling his eyes with a dismissive snort. Unwise, perhaps, but the cocaine was still in his system and he felt invincible.

  The scaled shrugged. “Sorry about drugging you,” he offered, his attempt at an apology even less than half-hearted. “I had a prior engagement and you looked terrible.”

  “Peddling your wares, were you?” Theo replied icily.

  “Always,” Orel replied with a toothy grin.

  “Half of the chemicals you have in this room are forbidden,” Adrian muttered.

  Orel rolled his eyes as the guardsman attempted to moralise at him. “And all of them have, at one point or another, gone down your master’s throat or up his arse, Adrian. Who cares?” Orel returned his attention to the Oak, crossing his own spindly arms. If these minotaurs thought he would be intimidated in his own home, then they were in for a rude awakening. “Is this what you do when you aren’t getting your way, Theo? Do you just run to the nearest potentate in the hope they’ll heed your whining?”

  “It’s what I do when I work with someone that puts themselves before their duty,” the Oak growled back.

  Orel felt a flare rise up in his chest and throat at that. The fire should have died, but the drugs made him open his mouth and it was everything he could do not to spit fire. That self-control did not extend to his tongue, however.

  “You’ve got some balls saying that to me, Oaf. You spent more time after you became a hunter wandering around other countries than the one you were supposed to protect! You’re rather well off too, aren’t you? Remind me, how much money do you earn pounding other men’s arses in the ring?”

  It had been a stupid thing to say, but Orel only realised that after Theo found his feet again. The ornate coffee table between them, made of some exotic dark wood near as dense as stone, spun in the air, scattering its contents as the young bull swept it out of his way with the ease of opening a cupboard door. The hate in his eyes had turned to murder.

  Orel felt himself reacting, stepping back nimbly as his hand moved of its own accord. He felt the smooth wooden handle in his grip as he drew something heavy from the holster on his belt. Theo was nearly upon him, reaching out and roaring before Adrian got between them. On some level, Orel appreciated the irony of the guardsman saving him from Theo when just the day before this situation had been reversed. As terrified as Orel knew he would be under other circumstances, the sight of Adrian carefully manhandling a cursing, enraged Theo was enormously entertaining. He kept the device, a weapon of his own design, in his right hand, while he used his left to find the cocaine again. He snorted a little more as the minotaurs bickered and snarled at one another, far too busy to notice. What fear had been lingering on the periphery of his senses was promptly banished again.

  “Adrian’s here to help me keep an eye on you!” Theo yelled, after he had calmed down somewhat.

  “I’d figured that out already, thank you, Oaf," Orel replied with a roll of his eyes. "I take it you had the Governor issue a public warrant against this boy and his father you think might be here?”

  “It’s being sent to the office of the new harbour master,” Adrian answered. He stood between Theo and Orel, keeping his hands on Theo's shoulders and glaring at Orel out of the corner of one eye.

  For one awful second, Orel thought about telling Adrian that Theo might not object to more wrestling later, but he managed to stop himself, suddenly terrified. Angry as he was, that was not something he would ever do. How much cocaine had he snorted this morning? Had there been more than he remembered? It would not be the first time Orel had lost track of his use. He always took far too much when stressed out or worried about his future. Theo’s presence and what it might represent worried him in ways he would never admit, especially to himself. After they were finished here, the Spark decided to leave off any more cocaine for the day. It was putting him too on edge. Opiates would calm him down in no time.

  “Theo gave us a description of the suspects,” Adrian continued, drawing Orel suddenly back to the now. “It’s being passed along to everyone who owns a ship in the harbour, along with instructions of what to do if they are approached by the boy, his father, or their runner bodyguard. There’s also a reward for reporting them, and a year in the palace dungeons for anyone who encounters them but doesn’t.”

  “Sounds like you have everything covered,” Orel replied.

  The Spark nodded quickly to himself, as he replaced his weapon in its holster. His hands were shaking. He walked past them both, heading directly for his lab, noting as he went just what had been smashed by Theo’s brief tantrum. He wanted to be angry, but all he felt just then was fear, that would rise to terror if he did not do something about it. The Spark opened a cabinet with a padlock, quickly squirrelled away the cocaine, and began searching for something to calm him down before he did or said something that could have ill consequences for his health. “What’s the next stage of your plan? Sit here and break all my things while you wait for them to get themselves caught?”

  “This is a port,” Theo snapped. Orel did not dare look, but by the sounds of it the bull had calmed himself down enough to be civil again. “There’s bound to be smugglers. Given your reputation Orel, would I be correct in guessing that you know them all?”

  “That would not be an unreasonable postulation,” Orel admitted with a nod. He sighed in relief then, having found what he was looking for. “In my case, it happens to also be completely correct. Give me a minute alone, would you gentlemen? I need to deal with something private before we head out.”

  “I checked with the legal scholars in the palace last night,” Adrian said, just before he closed the door behind him and Theo. “You can be arrested, Spark, by even by lowly guards, such as myself. You're a threat to the city, and not even your star stone or the King's writ will change the fact that your mayhem yesterday killed several people. Not one of them was a witch resisting arrest, or a bandit, or a highwayman killed in self-defence or the enforcement of the King's Justice.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Orel croaked.

  Adrian laughed. It was a bitter, vindictive sound that sent a chill up Orel's spine. "The law doesn't give two shits about your intentions, Spark. Neither does the Governor. That’s another reason I’m here, incidentally. The Governor is angry at you. Very angry, actually. If you do anything that makes you a threat to the people of this city in my judgement, I am to apprehend you and bring you to justice.”

  “Where there’ll be a nice, big trial that I’ll use to make fools of everyone,” declared the Spark with a toothy grin he didn't feel.

  Adrian shrugged. “You're probably right, but you're also assuming you wouldn't be killed while resisting arrest.”

  The door slammed shut behind Adrian. Orel stood before his cabinet, silent and afraid.