The interrogation room was all function and no form. Cold, steel tables bolted to the stone floor. Equally cold chairs then leeched the warmth from your bones. The muffins were a nice surprise though. Buck scratched out his statement in quick, blunt strokes. The rampaging hare. The mysterious soldiers. The fire. Their escape. He slid the report to the officer waiting nearby.

  Lieutenant Zywrath broke the silence. "I want to thank you for coming in so readily. Our collective stomachs dropped when officers reported no signs in your usual spots. I am glad to see our fears were unfounded."

  Charlie must have blabbed. Walking into the precinct with Goldie had earned him approving whistles from half the bullpen. You end up at a starlet’s place one time and you never hear the end of it.

  Buck selected another muffin and took a bite. He hadn't eaten since the day before yesterday and his appetite had resurfaced. "What can I say?" he answered, half talking around it. "It'll take more than an inferno to send me to hell."

  Zywrath gave a grunt that could’ve been a laugh or just gas. He opened a file. "All right, Mr. Piper. Tell me why you were in that inferno."

  Buck swallowed the last of the muffin. If he played his cards right, he could walk out of here with more info than he gave. "It's all in my statement but the short version? I was following a lead on a case."

  The lieutenant turned a page. "A case. Right. This case have anything to do with a certain orange tabbi?" He slid over a printed photo of Sparks raising a martini glass towards a bewildered Buck being paraded down a flight of stairs. "Happy belated."

  That matchstick had two over on him now. He couldn't wait to return the favor. "Despite evidence to the contrary, it actually was a coincidence. I had no idea Sparks was there until I arrived."

  Zywrath leaned forward in his chair with a look of disbelief. "A coincidence?" He went back to the front page of the file. "The very individual you accused of being the Cremation Killer was seen by multiple witnesses in a location that not only burst into flames, but produced another charred corpse. That is not a coincidence." He slid another photo across the table.

  Buck felt a chill run through his body. The scorched, frozen scream in the image was all that was left of the hare. He remembered the flash of fear on his face as Fixer approached. This wasn't the work of a serial killer stabbing from the shadows—it was a hit.

  The Cremation Killer was Fixer.

  Zywrath was silent, waiting for an explanation. Buck swallowed hard. This was big, but too big to share without proof. After accusing Sparks at the diner, Zywrath would never believe him.

  "I see how this looks but this wasn't Sparks," he finally said. "The diner wasn't him either. At the lounge, he was on the upper level on the opposite side of the building."

  "Fortunately for you, the fire department backs up that statement. Captain Rovert Trinity found Sparks of Life assisting multiple patrons and staff escape through the second story window. Several survivors gave similar accounts. He saved a lot of lives."

  Buck relaxed a little at that news.

  "However, Sparks managed to disappear into the crowd. If you know how to reach him, tell him I need a word as soon as possible." Zywrath pulled a business card from his shirt pocket and handed it over.

  "We have a little on the victim," he continued. "The hare was Finn Tremain. We are still trying to find any family members. The bartender reported Finn was acting under the influence as soon as he arrived. Based on our autopsy report, we think we know why. Have you heard of a drug called Gladiator?" Buck thought for a moment before shaking his head. "It is a stimulant designed to 'enhance' physical characteristics through accelerated growth."

  Buck recalled the open sores he saw on the Finn's face. It looked like his skin was trying to catch up with the rest of his body. Wounds like that explained Brandon's trash can. "Is one of the side effects a nasty breakout?" he asked.

  Zywrath checked the notes in the file. "Only in a minority of cases. The majority suffered anywhere from major to total organ failure."

  Buck winced. "Not exactly a daily vitamin. Is that what you found in Finn's body?"

  "No. Ether levels were zero too so we know he was not a caster. Gladiator was wiped from the streets months ago. It originated from a fungus found near cave wells as a natural phenomena. When it was linked to this drug, the Mayor ordered all of it harvested and destroyed."

  Zywrath pushed the file across the table. "What we found was not street junk. It is a refined version—more potent, more dangerous." He paused, considering something. "We recently got approval from city hall to assemble a task force for the Cremation Killer. I would like for you to join. Your unique eye and ear for details could only benefit the investigation."

  Buck looked over the report. His experience with drugs was minimal at best. Back on the force, he’d worked homicides, not vice. Still, the lieutenant's invitation meant he could stay involved without ruffling any feathers. "Count me in."

  Zywrath took the file back with a nod. "I appreciate it. There is just one more thing I need to ask before you go." He stared at Buck, studying his face for any reaction. "If Sparks of Life is not the Cremation Killer, why were you so convinced at the diner?"

  Buck looked down, unable to maintain eye contact. The scene he’d caused wasn’t his finest moment. He'd been so caught up in finally having Sparks in a pair of jailhouse cufflinks, he would have said anything to keep him there.

  "I admit I've been chasing Sparks for a while now but it's unrelated to all this. I was wrong."

  "Then why are you chasing him at all?" Zywrath pressed. "Is it another case?" Buck was silent. It wasn't time. Not yet. He answered with a series of numbers. A case identifier he'd memorized. Zywrath frowned and left the room, leaving Buck alone with his thoughts.

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  The nightmare from this morning came rushing back. The fire. Sparks fleeing. That hideous laughter. The fire was so strong. He could feel the heat on his skin even now. The walls were collapsing. He couldn’t breathe. The smoke was thick. There was no way out. Nothing he could do.

  Zywrath came back with another file, looking confused. "That case number you mentioned pulled up an abandoned warehouse in the Lower Stairs that was planned for demolition before a freak fire took it. Are you saying Sparks did this?"

  The question snapped Buck back to reality. "I have to go. I'll call you if I learn anything,"

  He pushed his way past the lieutenant and fled the station, ignoring the teasing jeers from the bullpen. Sparks of Life. That damn matchstick. Nothing for months then suddenly he was everywhere. He had to know something.

  Rain began to fall and patter against his lapel. Slow sprinkles quickly became a downpour. He never understood how or why it rained underground, but it didn't matter. From the tallest peaks or the lowest valley, life would find a way to piss on you. Keep moving forward. Just like the nightmare ghosts told you. Just keep moving forward.

  *  *  *

  Hazelnut threaded her way down a busy sidewalk in one of Caverlock's business districts, eyes flicking over the bustling crowds around her. A suited boar had planted himself in the middle of foot traffic, barking into his phone about some deal that fell through. She bumped into him purposefully, apologized, and moved on with his wallet now in her hands. She'd performed the routine countless times by now and found it as effortless as breathing.

  Inside the wallet, she found a few high-value klopen bills. She reached the street corner and movement in an alcove caught her eye. An older possum woman had crammed herself into the dry spot provided by a store's awning above them. A child huddled close to her breast as the mother tried to cover them both with a threadbare blanket. Without a word, Hazelnut knelt low and placed the money in an old coffee cup next to them.

  She pulled away from the possums with a wince. Her shoulder still stung from that soldier's bullet—a glancing hit, thankfully. She was able to defer offers of care to others in greater need. Her attempts to find Sparks in the aftermath were not successful. Her brief discussion with his contact in the lounge had given her a better idea of the tabbi’s plan, but not the full picture.

  A silver fox had been waiting in the booth Sparks had indicated. No matter how she tried to explain, they wouldn’t go into details about the job. Stating only that Sparks would need to get inside the Aethercorp power plant and providing a set of blueprints.

  That "plant" was more like a fortress. No one got in or out without approval and the only people approved were those who worked there. In her previous reconnaissance attempts, she found security systems far beyond the scope of a power company. High resolution cameras. Infrared body scanners. Anti-magic fields. That was just in the lobby. Some kind of automatons stood ever vigilant along the rooftop, overlooking the plant like ominous gargoyles. Getting inside was impossible. Until she remembered the business card in her pocket.

  Roy, the head of Aethercorp security, had literally bumped into her in the park. All she had to do was cash in his apology and she was sure to find something that would help. Roy was overjoyed to hear from her and they arranged to meet directly after his shift. That way he'd still be in his uniform and hopefully carrying an ID she could snag. He seemed like such a nice guy, too. Unfortunately, her family was more important than his job.

  Java Bee Good was warm with the scent of honey and coffee when she stepped inside. She had arrived ten minutes early. Plenty of time to plan for potential distractions. Her wave to the bumble bee proprietors froze as she entered. The platypus security chief was already seated, vigorously flagging her down from behind a table buried under a monument of muffins—at least two dozen stacked precariously.

  "Roy? What…is all this?"

  "All what?" His eyes followed her gesture towards the pile. "Oh! The muffins! Well, I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got one of everything. Please, have a seat." He hopped up to pull her chair out for her. He looked so sweet with big, soft eyes and a dopey grin. "Your hair looks amazing. What shampoo do you use?"

  "Vanilla," she joked. What the hell? Where did that come from?

  It took Roy a minute to get there. "Vanilla? Oh! Because of the ice cream!" He burst into an overcompensating laugh that shook the table. He regained his composure within seconds, leaning in with a serious expression. "Again, I am so sorry about that. When you called and said you wanted to meet for coffee, I didn’t feel like it was enough, you know? As a way of apologizing, I mean. So, I ordered us muffins but then I realized I didn’t know if you had a preference or were allergic or if you even LIKED muffins so I just got one of everything. Don't worry, anything we don't eat I'll take to the kids on Germain and Fifth."

  Hazelnut blinked. Germain and Fifth was a stretch of alley she knew all too well—gang-run, factory-backed, rough even in her childhood. The universe was tugging at her strings, but she shoved the thought aside. "No, I love muffins! Is there banana nut?" she asked.

  "Yes! Here, let me get that for you," He tugged one from the pile—triggering a small avalanche that clattered to the floor. Apologizing profusely to the bee proprietors, he crouched to clean up…

  Sticking out of his back pants pocket was a card with Roy’s face on it. His Aethercorp ID. Clear as day. Right in front of her. Hazelnut’s answer to accessing the plant and saving her home was mere inches away. So why was her stomach tying itself in knots as she plucked it from his pocket?

  Roy finished cleaning up and sat back in his seat, holding the muffin escapees. "Guess these are mine," he said with a nervous laugh.

  She had what she came for. She should just leave, but it would be rude after such a grand apology attempt. There wouldn't be any harm in staying a little while longer. She knew of worse ways to spend an afternoon.

  She placed a gentle hand on his wrist. "Roy, thank you for doing all of this but really, everything is fine. You’re forgiven. Why don’t we box up the rest for the kids and just talk. Get to know each other a little better."

  Fifteen minutes later, Hazelnut found herself really enjoying Roy’s company. He'd grown up in the city like her, and was familiar with the city's struggles with homeless and outcasts. When she let slip her familiarity with the conditions on Germain street, there was no judgement in his eyes. Only a sad, understanding nod. As the conversation began to lull she grabbed the chance to excuse herself. Roy handed her one of the boxes of muffins as she left and thanked her for a lovely time.

  Back on the street, she patted the pocket with the ID card. Her stomach flexed with another pang of guilt. She never had any problem stealing from those who could afford the loss but this was different. Words from her adoptive father echoed in her mind. "Attachments are unavoidable but don't let them stand in the way of your goal." Keeping her family housed and safe was the most important thing right now. She could return the card later.

  Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of flapping wings and someone landing behind her. "Hazelnut! I’m glad I caught you," Krouri called out as she caught up. "Listen, I know Tobias low-balled you on those pictures. I can offer you twice the going rate for those shots if you’re still interested." It was a generous offer, but too little too late. Sparks needed less attention on him for the job, not more.

  Hazelnut offered a friendly smile and squeezed her eyes shut. "No, no that’s okay! I’m actually going a different route. Thank you though!"

  Krouri was suddenly at her shoulder, voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Any chance that route is full of ‘sparks’?" Hazelnut froze mid-step. "I saw you two in the diner. If the detective thinks he’s interesting, then I think he’s interesting. Let’s talk."