"I told you, I'm fine. It's just a few scratches," Michael repeated for the fourth time.

"You lost a whole ass leg, didn't you? What am I supposed to tell Auntie?" Shelly asked. "Shit, I swear, next I see Neil, I'm gonna beat his ass myself."

"It's not his fault."

"It might not be his fault, but you two are practically attached at the hip. Unless he's walking around with two busted legs and a set of missing arms, in my eyes, he's just as responsible for you getting hurt."

"How is he supposed to walk with two broken legs?" He teased.

"You know what I mean."

"Sis," Michael sighed. "He did his best. It was just... a lot of trouble."

"Boy's a wereleopard! I've seen those folk fight, they ain't weak. He should have been able to protect you."

"Look, it'll be a bit before I'm home. Let Mom know what happened when she gets back today."

Shelly paused, "She's not coming back today." The confused sound he made got her to continue, "Yea, she called this morning and told me that the stars were still a mess. She gonna use the full moon to get a better signal so she's gonna be gone for another five days. Didn't she call you?"

Michael frowned, "No, she didn't."

"That's weird," she thought for a moment, "No, wait, actually it really isn't. Old habits die hard, ain't that right?"

"Thanks for reminding me," he said sarcastically.

"You don't have room to speak," she retorted. "Anyway, I'll come down to Packland to take care of you. That boy isn't responsible enough. I know some folk in the offices there, I can easily get a pass."

"No, I'll be fine. Neil's got family here. One of which is the Alpha's uncle, so I think I'm in a good spot. Also, their Hunt is soon. I doubt they'd let an outsider stay on territory."

"Fair point," Shelly sighed. "I guess I'll hang home worrying myself to death. Won't eat, won't sleep. Just waiting to see my little bro again," she made a soft sob. "Consumed by guilt and anxiety. Tormented by the thought of what I could have done to save you from your horrible fate."

"Drama Queen," he smiled.

She laughed and continued to chat a little while longer before Michael loudly yawned. After one last round of advice and threats to his partner, Shelly told him to get some rest and ended the call.

He shuffled a bit and found a comfortable position to fall asleep in. Just as he was dozing off Dr. Kulkarni returned. His eyes fell on the plastic bag in her hand. It was a standard kitchen resealable bag with 'SILVER DO NOT TOUCH' in big black letters on the front. She set it down on the side table and took a seat next to him. He had almost forgotten that he was under concussion watch.

Her stoic gaze hid her thoughts as they stared at each other. Neither backed down until it became awkward and she finally shook her head.

"Wynne's right, you're damn sturdy for a human." She gave a brusque laugh.

Michael smirked and sat up. "Half-human according to her."

"If we did everything according to her, we'd all be half-human," she gave a faint grunt and looked at the plastic bag on the table. "She wanted to help."

"Really?"

"Yup, you can thank me and a busy night for saving you from being her next test subject. It seems she has an entire set of theories she's itching to try out."

"Sounds like Doc," he chuckled. "What happened?"

"Apparently several squads of hunters got dragged in. From what she yelled, I guess they had gone and messed with the fae. Not shocked, those things are insane."

"Ha, I know. I used to hunt them."

"Brave soul, you still have all your fingers too."

"Did she say anything else? It's not common for hunters to move in a squad. Most of us work solo or duo," he asked.

"She didn't seem in an answering mood," Dr. Kulkarni crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "I only called her to see if there was anything special I needed to watch out for when treating you. Of course, when I mentioned your name, she fell into her normal, insane rant, but I got what I needed."

Michael frowned. Something in the back of his mind kept trying to push forward. Why would there be a group hunt? Especially a group fae hunt? He thought a little longer until he remembered with a snap.

The investigation! Brody had mentioned a few days ago that they were interviewing the regional fae lords. That's about the only reason he could think of. That would mean that Oscar and Ellen were a part of whatever happened. At the thought of Ellen, he recalled that he now had evidence. It might be minor, but he had stolen 'Alma's' purse. He didn't know her connection to this murderous group, but it was better than nothing.

"Pardon me for a second," Michael pulled out his phone and called back Ellen's number. He waited for her to pick up. But it rang through to voice mail. His face tensed as he tried to call a few more times, but each one failed. "Fuck."

"What is it?" Dr. Kulkarni looked up from her phone.

"Ellen's not picking up," he frowned as he stared at his screen. He tried to figure out another way to contact her when an idea came to him. "The Jeep we arrived in, where is it?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. But seeing that he was intent on finding out, she called around and found that it was being kept in the Pack Garage.

"There should be two purses in the back, could they bring them over?"

Five minutes later, the blood-stained purses laid in Michael's lap. He rummaged through them and pulled out both phones. He could only guess which one was Giselle's as he put the neon phone to the side and tapped the screen on the black and silver one. A pile of missed call notifications cluttered the screen. All of them belonged either to "Feisty Mama" or "C*** Block". He called back "Feisty Mama".

This time his call was almost instantly picked up. However, the woman on the other end was not the happiest when she found out it wasn't Giselle calling. After a bit of explaining, he discovered this was the real Alma, and that Ellen hadn't contacted her since yesterday afternoon when they talked about her missing girlfriend. When he told her about Ellen not picking up now and also the recent raid, she froze before saying that she would try to call her sister. He gave her his phone number, then hung up.

While he waited, Michael dived farther into the purses and found 'Alma's' was quite full. He had only started to empty it when the bag vomited everything up. Whatever magic had been cast on it, he had accidentally broken it. Items spilled everywhere as Dr. Kulkarni looked up, a bit surprised at the menagerie of things. Wallet, notebooks, pens, paper, compass, calculator, receipts... everything. They spilled across his lap and onto the floor.

"Whoops," Michael gathered what he could, while the doctor helped with the rest until there was a nice little pile on his side table. He was most interested in the wallet, but before he could open it Alma called back.

They talked briefly. She was even more distressed as her sister didn't pick up for her either. Michael did his best to reassure her it would be fine, but he didn't have much of a foot to stand on and she abruptly hung up.

"Damn it," Michael rubbed his forehead. A knot of stress had settled in between his brows as he groaned.

Dr. Kulkarni leaned forwarded and fixed him with a flat stare. "How are you feeling? Any nausea? Headache? Blurry vision? Flashes of light?"

"I'm fine, just frustrated," he lowered his hand, but his head was throbbing. "I mean... ah, I do have a small headache. But it's not the concussion."

Her gaze somehow became even flatter as she didn't blink, "It's not the concussion? That's a miracle." Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

"It's just a minor thing," he tried to defend.

"Are you sure you're not a Werebeast? That's what every single one of them says when I treat them for head injuries."

"Get a lot of head trauma?"

"They love to headbutt everything around here," she grimaced. "Trees, rocks, houses, cars, each other."

"Sounds like fun," he joked.

"They're lucky to have such thick skulls," she shook her head. "Did you at least get your question answered?"

"No and yes," Michael bit his lip as he focused on the end of his bed and thought. "I know Ellen hasn't contacted her sister." That meant something was up. Though his interactions with Ellen had been few, it was impossible to ignore her tattooed arms. One was of a seascape while the other was a tree whose roots worked their way down her arm. Eight names weaved through the waves and roots. Alma's name was there, but he had thought little of it then.

"Which means?"

"That it's doubtful she is in the infirmary," he answered.

"She could be dead."

"I seriously doubt that too," he stifled his scoff. If she was dead, they would be in a lot more trouble. The fragment was far from stable. If a major character died, they would know it.

"You're quite optimistic," she said. "There aren't many people who come back whole after messing with the fae in their territory."

"I guess you could call it optimism," he shrugged. "But I was a hunter. There is paperwork you fill out when you sign up, which includes next of kin. If she was dead, her sister would have known. I seriously doubt Ellen would keep her siblings off the list."

Dr. Kulkarni was about to say something when her expression froze and then grew pensive. "This Ellen, this isn't the one Richard was dating?"

"Probably. I didn't ask her, but I had seen them talk a few times in the past."

A long sigh filled the air as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "What is the chance that Richard knows about her disappearance?"

"I... don't know? It's not like HQ reports on injuries."

"Good. Don't tell him about this. Last time someone brought up Ellen, it was a mess. I don't need to deal with that during a full moon."

"Their relationship not good?" Michael poked, curious about the local gossip.

"I'm just the Pack doctor," she said, then continued. "But I've heard a few things. Disagreements over other men and children." She sighed. "Knowing Richard, even if they were broken up, he'd still rush over like a moron to check on her. That's the last thing I need. A Hunt without an Alpha is like a pig without a pen, a mess."

"I don't plan on telling him. Don't even know where she could be, anyway." With nothing else to say, Michael turned his attention to the three phones in his lap and picked up 'Alma's'. The screen flashed and revealed a series of timers that repeatedly went off along with several notifications from a myriad of communication apps. He was no hacker, but he could use the information visible to gather a few clues.

The newest message arrived around midnight while the oldest was from shortly before dinner. Most were flirty texts from a man named Shaun Mack, though there was one message sent at 9:18 that asked if everything was ok. The remaining messages were junk except for the last two. From an unsaved number, they were brief and sent 15 minutes apart. The first came at seven-thirty and said to meet at the normal location after she finished. The next message corrected this and stated to meet at the secondary house, followed by a set of numbers and a command to bring his body back with her.

"Can you pass me the wallet and two notebooks?" He asked.

The doctor briefly assessed him, then handed them over. "Whatever you're about to do, don't overdo it. It's just as important to rest your mind as it is your body," she warned.

"Don't worry, it's just a little light reading. There's nothing much else I can do."

He opened 'Alma's' wallet and pulled out her ID. Charlotte Dixon was her true name. He also found out her place of residence, age, and the fact she was an organ donor. He jotted down these new facts and turned to her two notebooks.

The first book was about the size of his palm, with a bright watercolor cover. It was filled with a bit of everything. From scribbled notes about orders and enchantments to passwords and self-help mantras. It was an unorganized mess that made his headache worse as he shut it. The next notebook was far simpler, with a black leather cover and singular gold symbol burnt into the front of it.

This time he stopped before he broke whatever enchantment was on the item. He was familiar with the magic system at play here. This was because it was a variation of one of the major six systems the Archive imports in. While every Fragment might have a unique magical seed that started before the development process, it was rare for them to create an independent system from scratch. So the Archive just kept general frameworks that could easily plugin and make a fully functioning magic structure in a matter of days. The one this world used was the rune system. It was the most versatile of the six, though not the simplest, as it required a knowledge of the magical language of the fragment.

He opened the Hunters' Archive and loaded up the visual guide to runes. Once there, it was easy to find the shield outline and connect it to a protection rune. But in this system, runic spells had a grammar. They rarely only had one symbol. This was true for the journal's emblem as within the shield, she had inlaid several more shapes to create a complete spell. The same grammar applied to spoken spells, but he had seen short cuts around this. Such as Ellen, who used a brief verbal component and fill in the rest with hand movements.

After putting the rune together, Michael found the enchantment to be a magical diary lock.

"Well, that's unfortunate for her," he hummed and went to draw blood when Dr. Kulkarni made a noise. He looked up.

"I will remove every item in this room if you even think of harming yourself." Her copper gaze burrowed into his, unflinching.

"Sorry, sorry," he held up his good hand.

Perhaps he was being a little rash. He had broken that enchantment earlier by placing his hand in the bag for a short while. So he did it again, resting his hand on the leather cover. It didn't take long for the magic to dissipate.

The notebook was a runic grimoire, filled front to back with symbols collected by Charlotte. Since he was no master of this world's runic, he debated on how to approach this new problem. He wanted to pour over every symbol, but as his vision grew blurry from focus, he needed to keep it simple.

Charlotte's phone vibrated against his leg, pulling him away from the book. A timed reminder repeated itself, flashing on the screen as a single phrase sat underneath it. He stopped it and finally looked at the notifications again. There were five different timers, each with a unique word under them. What were the chances these were runes? He felt the possibility was very high as he hunted down the first phrase and quickly found the matching rune. The rest fell into place until he reached the final one. The initial symbols were all tied to magical stabilization and containment zones. The interplay of each rune was far more complex, but when stacked together, he concluded that she had tried to establish some control zone. But that last rune was important, and he did not know what it meant. The runic grimoire had no explanation written next to it, only some notes about the structure and how to place it in the enchantment.

He turned to the Hunters' archive. There was the Dead Rune page, as they kept track of extinct runes just in case. He eventually found something that looked somewhat similar to the sharp emblem. But it had gone out of fashion centuries ago. There were two lines of trivia about it. One was that they tied it to a now-defunct cult, and the other was that it had three possible meanings.

"Kin, blood, or drink," he breathed, writing them down. They couldn't confirm the correct translation as they don't have any surviving documents of the time. Instead, they used sibling runes to guess at the meaning. He wrote down the symbols and compared them to the one he had. He guessed it was an evolved version of this rune, changed over centuries of spell work. That did little for him. With his magic notes as complete as he could have them for the moment, he looked up Charlotte Dixon on LifeTies, a social media site in this world.

She didn't come up. He paused, then tried Charlotte Mack and got results. Though her hair was blonde, he did not doubt the smiling profile picture was her. Nothing on her page was private, perfect for snooping. First, he ran through her friend's list before checking her posts.

Well, she hadn't posted in a while, her last one was three months ago where she celebrated quitting her job. Before that, she mostly reposted crafter memes along with the occasional picture of her and her partner. Though Michael found a few images from a company dinner from about eight months ago. Normally these pictures would have been of little interest, except he recognized two of the faces. Oscar and Brody were both in attendance. It made sense. They all worked for the council, after all.

"Maybe Brody knows her?" Michael wondered as he continued to flick through the pictures. But under his brief assessment, they were boring. However, a new train of thought struck him.

Curious, Michael used his access to the Hunters' Bounty database to see if there were any open bounties for her. But the search came back clean. After a few minutes in a dead-end, he decided to search up Shaun Mack and got a hit. There had been a countrywide bounty out for him because of an incident involving an illegal blood summoning. The ranking wasn't high, but it was a bounty none the less. Though it had been five months since it was posted by the Witches' Council. Also, it was marked as inactive.

"What are the chances?" He asked himself as he looked over the mug shot of a shaggy-haired, ashen eyed sunburnt man before going back to Charlotte's page. In the relationship section, she had a link to Shaun's profile, but it was blank. That didn't matter so much as Michael scrolled through her photos and found several of her posed with a man. However, his face was constantly blurry or partially out of frame. It was the newest image, posted a few days before quitting, he finally got a good look at her partner.

While not as grimy as his mug shot, the thick eyebrow ridge, sallow face and burnt skin all matched the image in the database. That was Shaun Mack. Besides that, he saw something familiar in the corner. A giant tree. Half green and half black, he knew that banyan. He read the caption but found it to be a generic inspirational diatribe about having a life-changing night and being on the path to success with her partner. He didn't care; he wanted to know why they were in Banyan's Hallow.

Fortunately, before he could fall farther down the rabbit hole, the door swung open and Alexander entered holding his bloody nose. Both his eyes rapidly changed color, flying across the spectrum from a bloated red to a rotten purple.

Putting the notebooks and phones aside, Michael slightly panicked as he waved his partner over.

"What happened to you?"