“Her world-altering romance revolted and died. She left her family, and started a Neocam career for this woman. Their life together was an integral part of her, both public and in private.” Sao sighed, oozing down in the car seat. The edge of the seat belt cut into his throat and he drew himself back up. “Anyone would be devastated.”

Rai ignored Sao’s brooding, entrenched in some brooding of his own. “I guess we can try to dig up her family’s whereabouts. In case there really was an emergency trip, or if she went back to them.”

“I doubt she’d simply run back to her family.” Sao smiled with hope, but Rai was facedown over the steering wheel. “A breakup is never fun, but I’d think a thousand breakups or even a love-starved remainder of life is preferable to being trapped in a hateful household.”

“You’re trying to be too rational here. People do idiotic things after breakups.”

“And you’re calling me the rational one.” Sao turned the air conditioning a little higher. “I’d go join a monastery.”

Rai raised his sagging head so Sao could see his incredulous face.

Sao’s smile faded. “I suppose living in discomfort is better than following in her friends’ tragic footsteps.”

“Right.” Rai moved his head in front of the air conditioning. “Just gotta find out if she’s alive, what she knows about Orchid and this E34 debacle. After that, she can do whatever the hell she wants with her life.”

They sat a while longer. Rai took out his phone and began hammering out some messages. Notes for his daily reports, requests for information, checking for additional tasks of his own, that was what Sao assumed. He certainly didn’t look like he was having fun.

“How’s your weekend been?” Sao asked.

“Exactly what you’re seeing, sans assistant. What was I planning? More of the same. Up and down the city, passing stuff to the station and requesting things for the next visit, checking up on the victims’ old workplaces and psychiatric centers and gyms and other possible but less plausible haunts, calling to see if Neocam has any explanation for the deleted photos to zero response. I dropped by the hospital, which is to say sat around in traffic, and when I arrived Cole wasn’t around and I’ve bothered Cad enough for a while, so the end of that trip was that I didn’t get to see Orchid again. I got some food, whatever was left before the market closed, and went back to the office to finish up some audits for unrelated stuff that I’ve been putting off, reread some of the journals while I was at it. Then I got dragged into a fucking two hour call from HQ about an audit I put in a week ago and...”

He trickled off.

Sao waited before venturing into the turmoil. “Sounds relentless.”

“Just don’t tell me to take a vacation.”

“I’ll wait then.” Just listening to Rai’s ramble had made Sao restless. “Investigations are like this each time, I think. The alluring phenomena; walking dead, zombie pills, it draws you in. And then it becomes hard to get away from, even for a moment…”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“I didn’t suggest any sort of fix.”

“I don’t want a fix.” Rai sighed. “That’s my problem. I just collect problems.” He swiped at his phone screen absently. ”Every new piece of information’s just been a problem. Maybe that’s not the right word for it. But think about what we have. The E34 case files and leaflet, the Neocam profiles, the suicide videos, the journals and the encrypted messages, the talkative-yet-smugly-cagey talking head, the whole entire Rock Pool with its secret room. The Neocam people, I swear. Everyone wants to look like they’re making bold statements that encompass the world, but in reality everything’s so damn secretive.”

“Facades. That’s all people are, really. They’re not lies, just limited. Sometimes it’s not a choice. How would a person show the whole of their mind, even if they wanted to?”

“Yeah, I know. Nothing new. It’s just been a long couple of days and I’m sick of fucking around in circles.”

Sao’s eyes glazed as the sun centered itself overhead. “Take a vacation.”

Rai chuckled. Or scoffed, which was better than nothing. “Have you ever been mini golfing?”

“You mean at the Rock Pool?” Sao yawned and answered comfortably, “Never have and probably never will. Don’t tell me that’s your idea of a break.”

“I don’t golf. Too expensive. But mini golf…”

“You really are inexhaustible.” But the idea eased the air a little; the comic perfection of Rai in a waspy little visor and polo shirt, carting around the emerald hills of a resort golf course. Or teeing off in his bulky leather jacket and gloves. “If you really want, I’ll can see if I know anybody with discounts. At a full-scale golf course. Or the Rock Pool, if that’s really your venue of choice.”

“I can’t go by myself.”

“Golf’s not a team sport, as far as I know.”

“The Rock Pool’s booking log puts the average group size for the golf course at six heads. There was one booking last summer that took 27 people.”

“Sounds like a fire hazard.” Sao pressed on his most cloying smile and opened the booking log that had been emailed to him. There were four pages devoted to minigolf reservations. “Look, here’s a solo booking. And plenty of two-person bookings. There’s an idea - it’s a great icebreaker for a new relationship. Just pick up a date and go.”

“Of course you’d say that. Just pick u—” Rai bit down his words and glared at his phone. “Fuck.”

“Sorry.”

“For what?” Rai threw his phone down and pulled the car into gear.

“Um, Rai, about the Rock Pool…”

“We’re headed there now. Look again. The girls didn’t do any advance booking, but it turns out Aquila’s name was on the list for last week - that would be the day she got that list of addresses.”

Sao squinted at the list. “There she is. All this time… and a six-person gathering? A whole golf team.”

“Huh?”

Rai wasn’t listening, and all the better; Sao couldn’t quite gather real enthusiasm for the discovery. He was beginning to regret the jovial show he’d put on when recommending Rai return to the Rock Pool. And the lack of emphasis he’d put into suggesting Rai go with anyone but him.

Irritated at himself, Sao watched the light posts fly by, silhouetted against the blinding sky like burned out matches. He mourned the death of subtlety.

Like it just picked up and went.

—

Out of the frying pan, Sao thought. The frying pan being the superheated slopes below, where the weekend revelers were being cooked alive, doused in a haze of yeasty beer and street-vendor oil. And into the fire - that was the Rock Pool.

They heard the place before they saw it, before the jiggling elevator spat them out into a large and rowdy cluster of bodies. Small, fast-moving bodies. The rocky little golf course was overrun with children.

Cas was languishing near the restaurant’s entrance. The dining room behind him was packed. “Wasn’t expecting you two again. If you don’t have a reservation, I’m afraid there aren’t any tables available.”

“We’re here to ask you about another woman. This one was on the guest list.”

A crowd of high-pitched voices nearby erupted in delight by onlookers (or dismay from the losers) as somebody made a winning putt.

“Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?” Rai leaned over the booking desk, practically shouting. Cas wasn’t even looking at him.

“Things are a little busy,” Cas said.

“What, they need you bouncing ten year olds?”

“Excuse me, one of the lucky kids is twelve today. And I’m having a good time watching their game.”

“Fine, we can do this here,” Rai growled. He yanked out his phone. “Do you remember a customer named Aquila G_____? She came in with a group of six, last week. Saturday.”

Cas’s drooping eyes lit up, just slightly, but just as soon faded back into a twilit murkiness. Sao heard a loud moan from the opposite end of the fairway, and Cas shook his head. He’d been watching a golfer whiff a shot. “Excuse me, you were saying?“

Rai repeated himself through clenched teeth,

“Hm,” Cas said, “The name sounds vaguely familiar.”

“An older woman.”

“Right… was she someone related to the girls you showed me last time?”

Rai held up a picture of Aquila. He’d found a photograph of her in her better years, from an article about her revealing - and conceding - her status as a covert operative. Her bland uniform only enhanced her fierce, scarred face and dark eyes.

“This is the lady you were talking about? That’s....” Cas’s eyes flickered, and again, strayed to the space behind them. But, just as Rai was winding up for another shot at him, Cas pulled himself upright. “Can’t hear myself think in here. Let’s head down. Elevator.”

—

The floor below the Rock Pool was in the early stages of renovation, freshly blank, not yet any hint as to what it would become. The unoccupied space was, oddly enough, cooler than the fully furnished and air-conditioned floor above. Perhaps it was an illusion of color. The place was all translucent plastic sheets and fresh paint. White, but muted, tinted grayish blue like snow at dawn. There were a few construction lamps on metal stands bowed in the shadows. The only true source of light and air was the window by the elevator.

Cas opened the upper pane of the window and lit a cigarette for himself. “Aquila. Right, that was the name. I’ll ask you straight: did she kill herself?”

“You tell me.”

Cas’s face clenched with irritation for a moment, then relaxed. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you. Do you want me to say yes? Or no? Whatever will stroke that ego of yours enough to bestow upon me the real answer.”

“What made you ask about suicide?”

“I read up on the girls you tried to introduce me to the last time we met. Hazel, Sapphire and Jasmine killed themselves. Orchid made an attempt. All publicly, which is how I assume you got on their backs about it.” Cas blew a slinky stream of smoke out the window. “You called them ‘victims’ or potential victims. So, is Aquila one of them? Victim to herself, so to speak?”

“We’re looking into it. But first, why don’t you tell us what you saw her doing in the Rock Pool?”

“Forgive me for being a little concerned that someone might have felt the reason to take their own life.” Cas took another slow drag. “I didn’t see her.”

Sao could almost hear the nerves snapping in Rai’s brain.

Smoke drifted out the window. “Was she related to the drug situation, the one you were hand wringing about the last time we met? Is the drug you’re after the one everyone’s saying turned Orchid into the living dead? Quite the diversion to just act like it was a standard street drug. Besides, Aquila doesn’t seem as trendy as the other girls…”

“She wasn’t an online influencer.” As if in preparation for a beating, Rai removed his gloves. The blue of the room took on a slightly harsher hue with his bioluminescent addition. “She wasn’t famous. The most fame she got was as plaintiff of some short-lived court case.”

“Why would she have to be famous?”

“I’m just wondering how you got to know her, if you didn’t see her at the Rock Pool.”

“Aquila - we’re talking about the army woman, right? The retired spy? She had a bit more charisma than just that of a failed ambulance-chaser. And Rai, Investigator… you’re the one asking how I might know her? Think about it - what do you know about me? What is perhaps the only thing you learned about me from our past interactions?” Cas rolled his eyes, landed them on Sao. “He didn’t tell you? We met at a case involving a retired military couple. Friends of mine, from - surprise - my time in the military. I’ve been to a couple of functions, and I ran into Aquila at one of them.”

“You never… confirmed what you did,” Rai muttered.

“I can’t legally describe every aspect of my work, that’s what I told you. But I thought it clear that I was on army payroll. On and off, anyhow. Contractor basis.”

Rai was refusing to meet his eyes.

“I came into that line of work after Aquila’s time, I should clarify that. And I wasn’t a spy, of course, who’d trust me?” Cas flashed a grin at Sao. “And alright, I admit too that Aquila was never a close friend of mine, but I respected her. She was a legitimate hardass, and she had an exciting life; it was hard not to get invested. So I’m a little concerned that you’re here, throwing her name around in the context of some… drug-suicide cult.”

“If there’s no connection you know of between her and the others, this is a waste of time.”

“Oh, come on. Give me a minute to think.” Cas took another, drag on his cigarette. A breeze through the window pushed the exhaled stream back into his face, but he didn’t seem to mind. “She had a brother who was involved in the development of the military drug. The name slips my mind, but word on the street - or rather, the online rumor mill - is that it’s the same drug making the zombies running around today. Er, excuse me, I suppose Orchid isn’t running anywhere.”

“That was the aforementioned court case. We looked into it.” Rai raised his head again. “Did you ever meet the brother, or anyone else involved in the military drug development and trial? Scientists, nurses, test subjects who’d received the remedial treatment when it was done, or even families of the above?”

“Treatment…?” Cas frowned, the discolored patch of skin on his face folding, and catching the slit of sunlight from the window like a golden gash. “You know, I never have. It is strange that Aquila was the only one who seemed to know anything about the project and care about its neglected participants, now that you mention it. But if there are any useful witnesses, she’d be the one to know.”

“Thought so.”

“Seems like there really isn’t much for me to add. You never told me why you’re interested in Aquila, though.” Sensing by then that he’d get nothing from Rai, Cas targeted Sao with a grin.

“Don’t look at him,” Rai muttered.

“If you don’t want people looking at him, you shouldn’t be hauling him around with you.”

“She was attacked,” Sao said flatly. “Five days ago.”

“Must have been some extreme thrill seekers, to try attacking her.” Cas laughed. “I’m surprised she reported it after so long - maybe she was prepping to sue. Did she have any theories why they did it?”

“She might, if she recovers from the condition they left her in.”

“I don’t follow. Is she alright?” A ghost of a smile remained on Cas’s lips, unintentionally mocking.

“No. She’s in bad shape.” Rai gave Sao an odd look, quieting him. “Aquila’s phone contained contact information for Hazel, Jasmine, Orchid, and one other woman named Maya, sent to her from an anonymous now-deleted source.”

“What a scary coincidence.” Cas raised his cigarette again and murmured from behind his hand. “She’s alive, though? No offense, but getting information from your tag team here is like yanking teeth.”

“You sound smitten.”

“I’m sentimental. If you really need an excuse to give sympathy for someone who almost lost their life.” Cas exhaled slowly, eyeing them both. “So in summary; Aquila was put in touch with the suicidal girls by an unknown figure. At least one of the girls had taken the drug Aquila was always lobbying against. Could be that she met someone who was selling the drug or otherwise passing it out to unwary kids, and tried to put a stop to it. You were, in your roundabout way, trying to question me about some sort of distributor the last time we spoke, weren’t you?”

Rai threw his glowing hands up, sending both Sao and Cas backing towards their respective walls. “You got me. And that’s a theory we’ve considered. But someone hooked Aquila up to a dose of the drug before she succumbed to injuries from the attack, too.”

“Her attackers did it? Or another unknown party?” Cas flicked his cigarette in Rai’s direction, the ribbon of smoke rising and falling like a dancer’s. He seemed more energized than before. “How do you know she didn’t do it herself?”

“Logistically, it wouldn’t make sense. She had some injuries that would have prevented her from taking the drug… the way it appeared at the scene.”

“The way it appeared,” Cas echoed, in an impeccable imitation of Rai’s grumbling. “This reminds me of a story I heard through whispers at the old army functions, about Aquila’s undercover. I’m not sure how much it’s related, but it certainly shares a few themes. Anyone asks; you didn’t hear it from me. I can’t have Aquila thinking I smeared her reputation when she brings her causes back to the courts.” He took another drag for preparation. “Covert ops. Her job wasn’t clean and sexy, the way some people think of spies. She specialized in infiltrating political organizations and big offshore companies, working her way up the ladder over months, even years. Not necessarily to the tippy-top, but just enough to gain comfortable access to certain targets. Once they were in her sights, she had to get creative. A little dramatic, too.”

A stronger breeze from the little window set his dark ragged hair flying, obscuring his drowsy pinkish-violet eyes.

“Her targets were people the army needed out of the way. Often very secretive, very guarded and unbelievably stressed individuals. We often don’t consider the last part, but Aquila did. She knew that these loners suddenly starting a steamy affair, suddenly making a new best friend and then suddenly dying of a mysterious shove off a roof or bullet to the back of the head would be incredibly suspicious. But you know what blends in a little better with an incredibly stressful lifestyle?” A worm of ash fell from the tip of the cigarette, landing silently at Cas’s feet. “Endless accidents. Misplaced documents, schedule fuck-ups. She was an expert in engineering small incidents, and eventually standing one of the natural conclusion to a buildup of stress, a suicide.”

Rai gave a little heave as though he were about to shout, or be sick.

“Sometimes she didn’t even have to stage the suicide, but that was her MO, her expertise. So the legends say.”

“The legends, huh,” Rai muttered.

“You sound a bit dismissive, Investigator. But you understand, in the context of her work, it worked exceedingly well. A blameless crime.”

“That’s not true,” Rai said. “Either everyone blames the victim, or everyone who cared about them in their life blames themselves.”

“You’re talking about a typical, self-initiated suicide. But even then, it’s not always dismal circumstances. In certain cases, suicide or assisted suicide is the humane option. Not in Aquila’s case, but certainly in cases of some serious injuries…” Somehow, Cas found the means to smile. “I wonder if that was why the zombification of her brother troubled her so deeply. Even if he tried to take his own life, it wouldn't…” He left the thought unfinished.

Both Cas and Rai had retreated into themselves, leaving still and silent shells. Sao felt oddly alone in the shady hall.

“Who was this person who shared the story with you?” he asked.

Both stared at him. Cas lowered his cigarette. “Good question. The name… didn’t stick. But now that you mention it, he did claim to know her unusually well. Enchanted by the thought of her and her work. Including the drug case. It was an older man, scarred and bruised, such that I could barely make out his face. He may not have been an old man at all. I know how convenient that sounds, that I can’t remember… I guess his vagueness was convenient for him.”

Sao touched his own face, became aware he was, and tried to slip into the motion of scratching an itch.

Cas was eyeing the ceiling. “This might sound spontaneous, but bear with me: what exactly does a zombified patient look like?”

Rai exchanged a look with Sao and said, “It depends. It’s really obvious if they’ve been hurt in some way. The most distinct thing from the outset is… I’ll call it some black substance.”

Cas snapped his fingers and smiled, scattering ash. “Like varicose veins, black gums, that kind of thing? That was exactly what I saw on the guy, what made me think he was wearing some sort of unconvincing mask. Huh. Who would have thought - I did meet one of the undead trial participants after all.”

“Makes sense he knew Aquila, then,” Rai said. The phone was out again. “Did you get a name? Where was this, what function? Around what dates?”

Cas shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint. I got really hammered at those events, I mostly retained just the stories, or distinct looking faces. I remember the weather being better than this, though that doesn’t narrow it down by a lot - maybe this spring. But… if he was a test subject, surely the police can pull some sort of information on the drug trial? You’re essentially a branch of the military, aren’t you?”

“It’s been heavily classified,” Rai said.

“That’s suspicious on its own, isn’t it?” Cas tapped ash onto the windowsill. “Well, if you’re interested in this guy, I’d start with the military communities. It wasn’t that long ago that I met him, I bet his face hasn’t changed too much.”

“Military meetups in the last eight months.” Rai buried his nose into whatever he was writing into his phone. “That’s actually something the chief might be able to spare for us…”

“Headed out? Can’t even spare a thank you? Well, glad to have helped. I’ve got to get back to work. Someone’s got to wrangle those grade schoolers.” Cas took another hurried puff on his cigarette. A bit too theatrically, Sao thought.

Rai hit the elevator button going down. “Press the up button for me,” Cas called.

Sao did it since Rai was occupied by his phone research. The elevator rattled to a stop and the door opened. Going down.

Rai stepped in, Sao followed.

“Hey, did you press it?” Cas called, suddenly very close.

Sao turned, Rai did not. As he was about to give a strained ‘yes’, Sao felt a clamping sensation over his chest and the wind squeezed out of him as he was pulled - back into the empty whitewashed hallway - just before the elevator doors clasped shut.

Cas released Sao’s jacket at arm’s length. He’d done it all one-handed, the other was still holding the cigarette to his lips. Not a sweat broken. “You should be in the movies.”

“You too.” Sao grimaced, straightening his sleeves. “If I may say, I think you’re the better actor.”

“You may.” Another luxurious puff of smoke. “So you've decided to play innocent in front of him? Don't know nothing about no family? I take it you're also pleading ignorance on shifters and such.“

Sao took a deep breath and felt his lungs burn with Cas’s ash. No words made it out.

Cas clicked his tongue. “Hey, not how I would have gone about it, but you pick your own battles. I know splitting loyalties can be tough. How’s the investigator lifestyle working out for you?”

Reinforcing his voice the best he could, Sao said, “It’d work better if you weren’t delighting in obstructing every step of the way.”

Cas only smiled at that, like he was facing down a child. Or a meal. “What did I just say? You’re trying to split yourself two ways. Hard work. It's easy to become... unbalanced. You should know there’s a reason the family doesn’t keep you in the loop for everything.”

“How are they involved?”

The empty second elevator going up came and went. Cas didn’t even glance at it.

“It’s not my place to explain. You’ve got your ins; ask them when you’re ready. But trust me when I say, I don’t actually enjoy obstructing your case. I also want this zombie pill off the damn streets and out of the news.”

“Is this the family, or the army you’re speaking for?”

“You need a break if you’ve given up the idea that a person could ever think for themselves. You know I don’t like seeing people get hurt any more than you do.”

Sao looked away. He wanted to laugh at that last part, and curse and shout, find a way to wipe off that smirk. His impulses stopped short of wanting to take a swing at the owner of said smirk. He’d never land a hit, but he might end up breaking his own neck.

Cas burst into a harsh, sluicing laughter. The plastic sheets around them ruffled, unsettled. “You’re thinking you wanna lecture me about lying. Go ahead, get it out. Get yourself all hot and bothered, give the boss something to look forward to.” He tapped a finger at the elevator, which was coming back up. “I got nothing against the Investigator personally, but I’m surprised you put up with him for so long.”

Sao’s furious energy evaporated. “I was sent to work in his office by higher ups.”

“I’m sure that’s how it started. But you’ve never been a champion of commitment.”

“It’s tolerance.”

“Oh, oh even better. You love his distrust. You’re thriving on that burn.”

Sao knew he should be defending Rai, defending himself, but in that moment he was distracted by a foggy sensation forming in the corner of his mind. There was something odd about the story, the one he’d heard from Rai. How he’d met Cas. No, the story itself wasn’t the thing, but the fact that Rai recognized him, a year later. “Your face,” Sao began slowly. “Why did you…”

Cas dropped his cigarette, stubbed it out on the freshly painted floor. It was only then Sao noticed a dozen or more grimy ends, from smoking sessions past, lying like pulverized insects around the window and elevator. The faint, inconsequential irritation knocked Sao’s focus astray. His thoughts were a soupy mess. The elevator Rai had taken had almost returned. Cas touched the button to call the second elevator to take him back up.

Sao started to speak the name, the name ‘Cas’ had been using when they met the first time. He felt he had to get a final strike in somehow, no matter how small.

A big mistake. In one almost untraceable motion, the huge, dark shape whirled on him, and thrust out a hand, pale and muscular. The hand extended one ash-stained finger and hit him on the forehead with an impact so sudden he believed for a moment he’d been shot. He staggered, and his back hit a wall.

“Stick to the script,” Cas said, in a croon light and silken. It should have come from an entirely different being. “Don’t drag irrelevant thoughts into your case. Safer for you and your....” A sucking noise, like he was taste-testing the phrase. “Your friend.”

Sao couldn’t grasp any words to throw back. He felt as if his soul had been shaken loose.

“Ask about his conspiracy theories if you really want to kill time.”

The elevator door opened. Like a distressed jack-in-the-box Rai flung himself out, with an expression just short of murderous. At the same time, the second elevator arrived, ready to deliver Cas back to work.

“Enjoy the rest of the weekend,” Cas said, and swooped out of sight.

“What happened?” Rai asked, as the elevator closed them in and started its tired descent, a second time.

Sao shook his head. “I wasn’t paying attention to the doors.”

He was grateful that Rai didn’t push that line of questioning any further. But it was no longer a contented, companionable silence they enjoyed on their way down. When the doors opened onto the street level, Rai looked like he might crumble into dust.