GOLDMEN

Keeping a Shifter in chains is nearly impossible.

The prison guards at the North Carolina Penitentiary for Enchanted Persons knew that. That’s why Tanner Paulson, nicknamed Midas for his unusual tendency to zap any material into gold upon engaging in a transformation, had at least four guards at his cell day and night to ensure he didn’t get any ideas of shifting into an insect and escaping.

The kid was only eighteen, but he’d be spending the next thirty something years of his life behind bars according to one count of manslaughter, reckless endangerment, unlicensed use of magic, and thousands of dollars in property damage.

All stemming from one little mishap on a Ferris wheel at the state fair a few months back.

I was called in to find him when he escaped. A prison riot engaged all hands on deck, and the kid was left unchecked for just enough time to shift into something small enough to slip through the cracks of his cell undetected and get out, leaving nothing but a series of shimmering golden prison bars in his wake.

Since magic had been involved in their creation, it wouldn’t be legal to make use of such material, but I could tell from the chips and scrapes on the bars that at least one unscrupulous guard had begged to differ on that front.

I didn’t bother turning to the prison warden as I performed my brief investigation of the cell when I asked, “And the cams picked up nothing?”

He shook his head and shrugged.

“Whatever he turned into was too damn small to pick up on the cameras.”

I took a step back and sighed, eying the cell up and down as I replied, “judging by the amount of payment residue, probably shifted into a mosquito or something.”

“Didn’t even know they could get that small. Do you think you could find the kid?”

“No,” I turned on my heels and faced the warden with a raised brow, “but I know a guy who can. Question is, will he want to.”

Nigel Curry was a name I typically avoided like the plague when scrolling through my phone contacts these days. Besides the occasional “whatever happened to that Nigel boy?” inquiry from my mother, I didn’t think about him much anymore.

He was among the Enchanted, or as he calls them, the Gifted. Despite starting off as my partner, things turned sour when I caught him on numerous occasions purposely sabotaging our investigations.

The guy was a nut, free love to the extreme, smoked every green plant he could get his dirty fists on and above all else, believed magic should be legal.

I agreed with him to some extent. In a perfect world it should be legal. But take a case like our dear Midas and anyone with half a mind could put the pieces together on why it just can’t be.

Nigel was, unfortunately for me, just a few neurons short of half a mind.

“Midas is missing? That’s not a surprise. I knew from the moment he got arrested he wouldn’t be in custody for long. You’d basically be dealing with a roided up Houdini.”

“You know Shifters are rare. I figured you could-”

“What, help you find him? So you can waste precious tax dollars on locking him up again?”

“Listen Nigel, he killed a guy, could’ve killed a lot more too.”

“I’m not defending what happened, but maybe if his existence wasn’t illegal there could have been safeguards in place to-”

“To what? To keep a fucking golden cart from falling off a Ferris wheel? He was shifting to impress his friend and got him killed, shouldn’t need to be any safeguards in place for him to know not to be a reckless twat. Now will you help me or not?”

“Well forgive me for attempting to capitalize on the situation but I’m not seeing what’s in it for me.”

“You get to hang with your old pal Beau again, ain’t that payment enough?”

He gave out a sarcastic and cynical chuckle and sighed into the receiver, “Believe it or not Goldman, I have very little interest in catching up with the man who cost me my job.”

“And I have very little interest in catching up with the man who sabotaged every case that involved a Chanter. But if you’d rather a manslaughtering Shifter running loose around the city turning random infrastructure into gold and getting more people needlessly killed, be my guest.”

“You really have nothing more to offer me than empty threats of coming chaos? You know I’m a man who loves to watch the world burn, your little Midas being the match doesn’t bother me one bit.”

“Fine. What do you want, Nigel?”

“I want a chance to help him. I’ll help you find Tanner and we’ll get him off the streets, but I want you to promise me you won’t get in the way of me offering to help him.”

“You wanna reform the kid?”

“He doesn’t need reforming, he needs to learn to control his gift. And if you really give a shit about saving anyone’s life you’ll say yes.”

I grumbled to myself, took a moment with the phone against my ear to contemplate the situation. My only duty was to my job, bringing this kid to justice and sending the message that magic is dangerous and using it recklessly will not go unpunished.

The kid who fell to his death was somebody’s brother, somebody’s son, and he didn’t deserve to die just because his friend wanted to play magic tricks on a Ferris wheel.

And Nigel wanted him free to do it again.

Regardless, I needed him. Being a Shifter himself, Nigel had a better chance of tracking him down than anyone else.

I needed the bastard’s help, but I had no reason to fulfill his request.

Not that he needed to know I didn’t plan to follow through, of course.

I was torn from my ethical conundrum by a sudden sharp cough through the speaker, followed by a hacking, retching sound, garbled and wet.

“Nigel?”

He gasped for breath, cleared his throat several times, and returned with a raspy, strained voice, “I’m fine. Stomach issues as usual.”

“You’re still dealing with that? You gotta see a doctor man.”

“Nothing they can do about it, I’m fine,” he cleared his throat once more and his usual clear cut melodious tone returned in steps as he continued, “so what’s it gonna be, Beau?”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes for nobody’s sake but my own sanity.

“Fine. You can try and save the kid, I won’t get in your way. But if he says no, he’s coming with me.”

“He won’t say no. Nobody says no to freedom, Beau. Nobody but you, at least.”

We hung up after a short briefing on the details of the case and where we could meet up to begin our hunt for Midas, and I looked down at the screen that framed his name, an empty box where a handsome picture of the guy once appeared, having been deleted long ago, though clearly not alongside his number.

I leaned back in my car seat, fished for a pack of smokes from my back pocket, rolled down the window and lit one up.

With a crisp suckle, a gray cloud embraced my lungs and brought a fake peace alongside it. I exhaled into the air of the parking lot outside the penitentiary, and sighed as the weight of my chest collapsed in on itself once again.

Don’t let him get to you, Beau.