Page 33 of Catnapped

“Sure. There’s a scanner in my safe. I’m sure Lucifer would be happy to talk my ear off for five extra minutes to retrieve it. That’s really his plan. To nickel and dime us into eternal servitude through listening to him giving us advice. If we rack up enough minutes, we’ll be doomed.”

He chuckled. “You’re probably right, but this will be worth the five minutes, especially if you have a good scanner.”

“It’s a good scanner.” My bosses hated inefficiency almost as much as I did, and a good scanner made a difference, especially when I needed to work with a cranky lycanthrope who disliked being monitored. I understood the lycanthropes; being tested for virus levels served as a frequent reminder they were no longer fully human. I also understood the CDC’s stance on it, too.

In a perfect world, only those who wanted the infection would contract it.

We didn’t live in a perfect world.

“Good. We might get some answers about what’s in these vials and what they’re used for. More importantly, if someone is after your cat, why haven’t they come back for these vials?”

“They might not have known they were here because of the obscuration runes. They were pretty potent to have lasted this long in these conditions. All the windows had been left open, same with the doors. Animals have been in here.” I wrinkled my nose at that reality, as I didn’t want to think about the nasty things I’d stepped in since starting the search, even when wearing protective covers over my shoes. “You didn’t warn me how gross this would be.”

“It’s not usually this disgusting. But I’m also not usually looking through things abandoned for at least a year. Let’s get these vials into the SUV so we can move on with our search. The next step is locating the actual lab itself. That might be interesting.”

“Because your path is gone?”

“Yes. The lab is close, and I know the general direction. It’s better if we have to search around for it. We might find clues.”

“Do you think these vials are what they were cooking up in that lab?”

“I don’t know, but it was important enough they used high-grade magic on it, so we’re going to look into that mess, even if it isn’t related to Mr. Flooferson’s catnapping.”

Fucking catnappers. “And even if it isn’t directly related, it is—those vials are part of the operations as a whole. And if they’re targeting one lab animal from one part of the operations, they might be looking for others, too.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re disturbingly compassionate?”

“What? No.”

“You’re disturbingly compassionate, and I’m pleased to be the first to tell you so.”

I frowned and regarded Darian through narrowed eyes. “Explain, please. I’m not feeling compassionate right now. Really, I’m feeling a little murderous. I’d be tempted to take one of those vials and ram it through these assholes’ skulls, using the blunter end of it.” I pointed at the stoppers. “That end, to make it hurt more before the glass finally shattered.”

“It’s safer for you if you use the other end on them.”

“That is not as satisfying.”

Darian laughed. “While it’s not as satisfying, murdering them with some vials is probably unwise. You’d be exposed to whatever fluid is in these things.”

“There is that. So, why do you feel I’m compassionate? We’ll ignore the disturbingly part for now.”

“You’re concerned other pet rescuers might have their animals targeted during a high-stress situation. Most people become rather selfish in times of duress. You’re actually considering the consequences to others in a situation where most are focused solely on the goal. It’s something I’ve noticed about people since starting this line of work. Compassion is far easier in low-stress situations. Let’s say you’re just walking down the street, and you’re in a good mood. You’re more likely to show compassion to someone you meet solely because you’re doing okay. It’s much harder to be compassionate when you’re not okay.” He pointed at my chest. “The bandages and wincing you’re doing says you’re not okay right now, and you’re still concerned about others. That level of compassion is way above average. And that’s not a bad thing, but it’s a little disturbing in some ways. It’s also concerning. That sort of compassion means I’m going to have to keep a close eye on you. Someone could put a puppy in a cardboard box and use it to lure you into a dark alley so they can kidnap you.”

“You jump to strange conclusions.”

“It’s my mother’s fault. She does strange things, which means I have to jump to strange conclusions. That said, keeping compassionate people from being kidnapped can be a problem. They’ll go help stranded puppies in alleys, resulting in them being an easy mark for nefarious kidnappers.”

I believed his mother had warped him, and if anything, he needed to be plucked free of his trio of parents and set loose in the world without one of them popping up and influencing him. Maybe Raguel had been onto something regarding the necessity of someone indulging in a good-natured kidnapping. “You only have your father to blame when you’re kidnapped, Darian.”

“Why am I being kidnapped?”

“I’m a compassionate being, apparently. And that is too crazy.” I checked the box for any stragglers, and I discovered a folder with another rune at the bottom, which I erased. “What do we have here?”

“Papers!” Darian set the box with vials down and crouched with me. “I love when people leave me papers. Papers are the lifeblood of a good investigation. Do you know what we can do with paper?”

“Dust it for prints?”

“Dust it for prints,” he confirmed. “Do not touch that any more than you have. As it happens, I do know a practitioner trick, and I’m quite good at it, but I need to get my supplies out of the SUV.”