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“No,” Sarge said. “But I am going to have you write up a paper about the design and culture of the task force.”

“To convince me not to take risks?” I guessed.

“Toteachyou not to take risks,” Sarge corrected. “I don’t know that anything is going to convince you not to.”

We pulled into one of the Curia Cloister parking lots, which were brightly lit as supernaturals—mostly vampires and werewolves this late—trickled in and out of the building.

Sarge parked the car in a parking spot and shut it off, then turned to me. “It’s not a punishment, Blood, but it’s important.”

Really? Because this feels like a punishment.

“I’ll give you until November to finish it, and you should use normal work hours to complete it. Whoever is on your team can take over your paperwork for a while,” Sarge continued. “It’s research—not a punishment.”

With those rules in effect, it did take the sting out of the situation. Though I still didn’t really get what I’d done wrong.

So, I took more risks than the other members of the squad. Wasn’t that my personal choice? And did it even matter if I produced results?

Sarge obviously felt this was important, and I was raised to mind my leaders, so I’d do this ‘research’ since he wanted me to. “Yes, sir,” I said.

Sarge relaxed, and the silvery scales on his neck seemed to faintly glow. “Go check in with a medic. Reese or I will reach out with information on where your debriefing will be held.”

“Understood.”

* * *

After getting cleared by a medic—heronly warning was to be careful with my fingers since the placement of the cut meant it would be easy to reopen, even with my advanced healing—and making an official recording of the night’s events with a brownie who typed while I talked, I followed the instructions Sarge had texted to me and went to questioning room NUDONT (The Commissioner had named it so it sounded like ‘no-you-don’t.), which was the hidden half of the ICU (I-see-you) questioning room.

I knocked on the door, and bowed when Captain Reese opened it for me.

“Ah, Blood. Perfect timing—come on in.” She stepped to the side, then closed the door after me when I slipped into the room.

As it was with most TV shows, the half of the room where Orrin was being questioned was plain—cinderblocks with a plastic table and chairs—which I could see through the two-way mirror.

Orrin was seated at the table, his expression guarded and his posture perfect. An irritated-looking werewolf and another fae noble were seated across from him.

The screened half of the room (Room NUDONT) had two rows of comfortable chairs, a mini fridge for beverages, and a popcorn machine. Apparently, the Commissioner had been under the impression that questioning suspects would be so entertaining that it would require snacks.

Instead, the popcorn machine usually just gathered dust as there was rarely an opportunity to question a suspect.

As stated before, the Supernatural justice system was sketchy at best. We didn’t often process and question perps like the human TV shows. Tonight was a rare occurrence. While we’d captured Orrin, we still didn’t know if Tutu’s was his real goal. It was also important to find out if he was working alone.

Sarge was seated in one of the chairs, his hands folded on his lap. He nodded a greeting to me and held up a packet of papers. “Your debriefing arrived. Well done.”

I nodded and stayed near the entrance of the room—I wasn’t of a rank that would make me privy to whatever Orrin said.

“You can come on in.” Reese slumped into a chair, then adjusted her prosthetic leg. “We’re stuck in a standoff.”

“A stand off?” I asked.

Sarge nodded at Orrin. “He won’t talk. We’re fairly sure he’s got a geas on him.”

A geas was a kind of binding fae magic. It was most often used to put the target under a compulsion spell that wouldn’t let them talk about specific topics. (Fae were sneaky beings. Since they couldn’t lie, they made workarounds to keep other supernaturals from being able to force the truth out of them.)

I shifted, glancing at Orrin again. He was still blank-faced and motionless. “So…there hasn’t been any new information?”

“Nope,” Captain Reese said. “We don’t know if he was working alone or with someone, why he was targeting Tutu’s—or evenifTutu’s really was his target, though it’s fairly obvious it was.”

“That’s inconvenient,” I said.