Page 31 of Draco's Fire

Her face was flush with anger. Tyson had nothing left to say, so he remained silent.

"I can't believe you didn't listen to me."

Twenty

Shayla

Shayla sat at her desk, looking over the police reports she had and the field agent information she was able to gather. A teenage girl, a fox shifter, had gone missing after a rock concert. The best they got from anyone they interviewed was, "Yeah. She was there. Don't know where she went, though."

From all indications, things had been less than great at home, and it was more than a little likely she might have just run away. Though kidnapping was still a distinct possibility. Gideon's Torch also had an ever-increasing foothold in the area. There were indications that their activities had been rising.

They'd done nothing illegal yet, but their rallies were getting more and more agitated. It wouldn't be long until someone took their rhetoric about the evils of duplicitous shifters and the dangers of all metahumans as gospel. After that, it was only a matter of time before they decided to do something about it.

A poor, defenseless young woman made a tempting first target for someone just being initiated into the quasi-terrorist organization.

But there was no actual evidence linking the Torch to the case. Nationally, their presence was growing. Every day it was harder to track who were just the angry mouthpieces and who were the ones ready to commit actual violence to advance the anti-meta agenda.

But since there was only suspicion and no objective evidence of foul play, it'd be difficult to convince any of them to come in for questioning. But if they were involved, the girl's chances weren't good.

Shayla sighed and looked up from her desk, rubbing her eyes. Once the spots cleared from her vision, she looked across the office. Then she saw Tyson on the TV. It was the first time she'd seen him in a month.

After the incident with the assassin, she'd showered, had a very terse conversation with Tyson, and then that was it.

She couldn't believe he'd been such an idiot to let the guy go. And he said she didn't understand. It would have helped if he'd been more open about what he meant. But instead, he just clammed up, and she couldn't take it anymore.

She was finally able to get reassigned. Getting emotionally and sexually involved with the person she was supposed to be protecting wasn't the greatest thing to have in her file. But it had made the transfer a must for those in charge.

Since then, she'd been back to her duty as a PEACE agent, primarily handling the cases that were a low priority. It wouldn't last. She'd find her way back to some form of control over her career. Granted, the case she was looking at now didn't seem like something that had much chance of doing that.

It was especially unlikely when there was so little chance of solving it. Unless another witness stepped forward, or someone she'd already interviewed suddenly remembered something, she was stuck. Given the amount of alcohol and other illicit substances that had been floating around the rock concert, that was unlikely to happen.

She got up from her desk and walked closer so she could hear what was being said. She wanted to know how Tyson was. This might be a chance. She had no idea what he'd been up to and had to resist the urge to use PEACE resources to find out.

"—my firm belief that we can make this work," Tyson said. He was smiling, but it looked forced.

"We have to work together and not let hate divide us. That's why, in one week, I will be joining HOPE in holding a rally to show that we will—"

The rest of the words were drowned out as Shayla yelled, "You dense mother fucker!"

The few other agents around her looked up, and she waved them off.

She couldn't believe he was going to do this again. This was why he got shot at in the first place. He couldn't let it go. It wasn't that she didn't believe in the idea. She just didn't understand why he had to keep throwing himself in danger without a thought.

While they were no longer together, and she was still mad at him for letting the shooter get away, she didn't want to see him get hurt. Especially since the shooter was still out there and likely to try again. And this time, she wouldn't be there to push him out of the way of another bullet. Unless she could change that.

She marched into Phillip Mercer's office. Not even knocking, she opened the door and said, "I want back in on the Stallard detail."

"Hey, Phil. How are you doing?" Mercer said in a slight falsetto, trying to mockingly match her tone. "Have you lost weight? You're looking rather svelte." Then he switched back to his voice. "You know what, I have been hitting the training yard harder lately, thanks for asking."

"Sorry, sir."

"You know, you could have knocked."

"Sorry, sir."

"Also, no."

"What?"

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