The office was relatively spacious, not much different from any other government office. Next to one of the large windows stood a tall, slender woman, staring out at the urban skyline of the city while a light rain fell. Her eyes were deep-set, her features angular. She looked to be in her fifties, maybe sixties—but no one could have imagined that she was older than her agents, older even than the city itself.

  Over the years, she had gone by many names, but now she was known as Agarthi. Everyone called her Mama—and she had been the chief of the Los Angeles Police Department since the 1920s.

  Sitting near her desk was a neatly dressed man wearing thick black-rimmed glasses. He was a freed golem who had long served as a forensic specialist within the LAPD, working directly under Mama Agarthi, who trusted him completely.

  Mama lit a cigarette. Smoking inside any public building or closed space was strictly forbidden by the state of California—but Mama could do whatever she pleased. She was the LAPD.

  "Still, I don’t understand it, Huik," she said after taking a drag, exhaling smoke toward the golem, who sat patiently in silence. "You’ve built an excellent career here. I need you here—with everything that’s going on—and yet you’ve decided to go back to the other side. A place that still looks down on you, even as a freed being..."

  "I’m sorry, Mama," Huik replied softly. "I understand how difficult this is, but... His Excellency Cincinnatus of Antearis has requested my help to clarify a certain matter."

  "Cincinnatus!" Mama exclaimed in surprise. "I don’t doubt his integrity—he’s a decent sort—but what do you care what happens over there?"

  "He granted me my freedom," said Huik. "I owe him fealty. He’s asked for my help... I can’t refuse him."

  "I can’t stop you," said Mama, taking another drag. "But I hate letting you go. Just promise me one thing—keep me informed about what’s happening on that side. We’ve got enough trouble here already—serial killers, racial riots, drugs, shootouts—and now this. Problems from the other world always end up spilling into ours."

  She exhaled a slow plume of smoke.

  "All I can say is—good luck with whatever this mission of yours is. And if you ever wish to come back, your post will be waiting."

  Huik stood. Mama rose too. The golem was tall, but she still towered a few inches over him. When he bowed respectfully, she grabbed his shoulders and straightened him up.

  "You’re not in Carpathos, for all the damned hells of the demons," said Mama. "You’re in the United States."

  She shook his hand firmly, patting his shoulder with her other hand. The golem smiled faintly.

  "How the hell are you planning to reach Carpathos?" she asked.

  "I intend to take the Devil’s Gate vortex," Huik replied.

  Mama’s eyes widened slightly.

  "Hell... isn’t it safer to use the transporter?"

  Huik cleared his throat. "Apparently, there’s a situation on the other side. They want me to cross discreetly. There’s a... how to say..."

  "Call things by their name," said Mama.

  "Smugglers," he admitted.

  Mama pressed her lips in a dry smile.

  "Then something surely stinks on that side if they’re asking you to go through that damned hole. I’ll have my boys drive you there—you never know what’s lurking around that cursed place."

  "RUTH!" she shouted.

  A couple of polite knocks sounded at the door. An elderly woman entered—the secretary—approaching quietly and stopping at a respectful distance.

  "Call Tom and Keith," Mama ordered.

  The woman left the office. About fifteen minutes later, the door opened again and Agent Tom Durkan walked in. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with short-cropped blond hair and a square head that matched his bulky build. In another age, he might have been a gladiator—or a Viking.

  He stood before Mama’s desk as she glanced up at him with half an eye.

  "Well, I almost forgot why I called you," she said sarcastically.

  "Apologies, Mama," Tom replied. "I was busy with a crime scene..."

  Mama arched a brow.

  "You’ve got traces of your ‘crime scene’ on the side of your mouth," she remarked.

  Huik allowed himself a discreet smile as Tom blinked in confusion. The golem tapped his own right cheek; Tom quickly wiped away a spot of mustard from his lunch.

  "Tom," said Mama. "I need you and Perken to take Mr. Huik to Devil’s Gate. He needs to cross to the other side."

  "Keith’s handling a report," Tom answered. "But I’ll tell him to hurry. We’ll escort Mr. Huik to the dam."

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  "Really, Mama, that won’t be necessary—" Huik began, but she cut him off.

  "Don’t worry. They’ll take you," Mama said, giving him a pat on the back.

  The golem gathered his coat and backpack, bowed slightly, and she nodded in return before sitting back at her desk, eyes returning to her computer screen.

  "When you return," she told Tom before he left, "we’ll need to meet. The mayor and the city are ready to set us on fire—and with Huik leaving, things might change."

  Tom led Huik out. They walked down the hallway toward the elevator.

  "I assure you, Agent, I can go alone," Huik said.

  "No way," replied Tom. "That area’s crawling with smugglers and worse—vampires, for one. I just need to pick up my partner. He’s with a complainant right now. Please wait for us in the lobby."

  Huik nodded and took the elevator down while Tom got off a few floors earlier.

  He walked along the corridor until he reached a door that read:

  Officer Keith Perken

  Tom peered through the blinds and saw his partner speaking with a well-dressed older woman who seemed quite upset, judging by the wave of her hands and her raised voice. Beside her sat a teenage boy, slouched in his chair, bored out of his mind.

  Keith, a tall, ebony-skinned man with steely gray eyes, listened politely. The woman was Edna Walder, and the boy was her grandson Travis.

  While Edna explained her case, Travis stared at the portrait of the President of the United States hanging behind the agent’s desk. The man’s painted eyes seemed to stare back, smiling faintly. Travis rolled his eyes and looked down at his smartphone.

  "What do you mean you can’t do anything?" Edna protested. "We’ve been waiting for over two hours just to hear that?"

  "Ma’am, let me ask again," said Keith patiently. "Have you received any message suggesting he’s been kidnapped?"

  "No."

  "Any evidence he was in an area under terrorist alert?"

  "No..."

  "Then on what grounds are you reporting him missing?"

  "We haven’t heard from him in almost a year," she said. "He always called my grandson."

  The agent glanced at Travis, who didn’t even look up from his phone.

  "Mrs. Walder, we have thousands of missing persons cases already under investigation—"

  "Oh! So my case doesn’t matter because I pay fewer taxes than others?" she snapped.

  "I didn’t say that," Keith replied evenly. "But we need more information—destination, last place seen, anything distinctive, any clue that could help us—"

  "A clue? That’s exactly why we’re here!" Edna exclaimed.

  Keith leaned back in his chair. Travis looked up at them both and raised his eyebrows.

  "He’s in Italy," Travis said flatly.

  His grandmother blinked in confusion.

  "You have proof?" asked the officer.

  The boy took a folded paper from his jacket and handed it over.

  "What’s that?" asked Edna.

  "An email," said Keith, reading it.

  "Where did you get that?" she asked.

  "Last time I was at Grandpa’s house," Travis said.

  Keith paused with his pen and notebook. "Where does your grandfather live?"

  "In Long Beach," Travis replied. "I was looking for his last rent receipts, opened a drawer in the living room, and found this..."

  Edna sighed; clearly this had caught her off guard.

  "I think it’s pretty clear," said Keith. "Your husband isn’t missing—just... preoccupied with other matters."

  "What do you mean?" she asked.

  Keith handed her the email. She read it, then folded the paper with a deep breath.

  "In cases like this, there’s nothing we can do," he said. "Now, if you’ll excuse me—I have another matter to attend to. But I’ll be at your service if needed."

  Edna rose, followed by Travis, and they left. As they stepped out, Tom entered, holding the door for them.

  "So, what was that about?" he grinned.

  "Tommy, shortest case of my career," Keith chuckled. "They came to report her husband missing. The kid pulls out a letter showing the old man’s on a honeymoon in Italy—with another woman!"

  Both men burst into laughter.

  "Speaking of tragicomedies," said Tom. "Mama Agarthi’s losing her mind."

  "Over the new case?"

  Tom pressed his lips together. "Her top CSI just quit. She wants us to escort him to Devil’s Gate. He’s waiting in the lobby."

  Keith grabbed his coat, and the two agents headed down the hall, stopping by the restroom before going downstairs.

  ******

  Meanwhile, Edna and Travis were waiting by the elevators.

  "I can’t believe it," Edna muttered.

  Travis sighed. "Grandma, maybe we should hire a detective."

  She gave him a sharp look. The elevator arrived, and soon they were in the lobby. Edna nervously rummaged through her purse for her parking ticket when a small stress ball rolled out, bounced, and rolled across the floor.

  "Damn it!" she cursed.

  "I’ll get it," said Travis, walking after it.

  The ball stopped against the shoe of Huik, who sat waiting nearby. The golem picked it up and looked up as Travis approached.

  "I suppose this is yours," he said, handing it to the boy.

  As he did, he noticed the teenager’s eyes—blue with a strange violet hue. That shade wasn’t common. He’d seen eyes like that before... in the shadowed forests of the Dark Valleys.

  Travis cleared his throat, and the golem came back to the present. Huik smiled and returned the ball. The boy nodded and walked off.

  "Werewolf eyes..." the golem muttered under his breath, frowning slightly as he watched them leave. Just then, Tom and Keith appeared.

  "Ready, boss?" Tom asked. "With this traffic and the rain, we’ll probably hit Pasadena by dusk."

  Huik nodded, stood up, and slung his coat and pack over his shoulder before following the two officers out.

  Outside, Edna and Travis descended the steps.

  "‘Forever yours,’" Edna muttered under her breath. "Right."

  Travis glanced sideways at her. "I don’t think it’s what you think, Grandma."

  "Oh? And what exactly do I think?" she shot back.

  "That Grandpa ran off with another woman."

  "Travis, your grandfather and I are separated. What he does with his life is none of my concern."

  "Could’ve fooled me," he muttered.

  She gave him a sharp glare and kept walking. "You’re just a boy. There’s a lot you still need to learn."

  "Like what?"

  "Like," she said, "you could’ve shown me that damn email before dragging me down here to make a fool of myself—reporting him missing when he’s off rolling in bed with that... that Becky, that damn Englishwoman!"

  "You know who she is?" Travis asked.

  "Of course! His college sweetheart—some British tramp. Years later, and they meet again—fantastic, wonderful—while I’m stuck here dealing with all the problems..."

  She quickened her pace.

  "And I don’t mean you," she added quickly. "You’ll never be a problem to me, even if you always take Victor’s side."

  Travis sighed. "Grandma, Grandpa is missing. He hasn’t written me, not once. That’s why I’m telling you—"

  "Travis, for the last time," she snapped, turning sharply toward him. "If he hasn’t written, it’s because he’s busy in Italy. And that’s the end of it."

  "Grandma—"

  "Enough!" she cut him off, walking briskly toward the parking lot, leaving her grandson standing there. Travis shook his head in resignation.