Tristine and Officer Rockline walked side by side as she sipped on the delightful drink, her worries settling down. That cambion youth didn’t feel as scary when she had armed authorities by her side. As soon as she opened the door, a white rat ran under her feet.

“Eeeh!” she screeched and jumped. Coffee spilled on her favorite pencil skirt and Merlin’s fancy rug. The hot fabric clung to her thigh while she flattened her back against the wall, waiting for the filthy vermin to scuttle down the hall.

Rockline relaxed and took his hand off his holster. “You should call an exterminator, miss, before the vermin starts breeding.”

“Oh. It’s Arthur. Merlin’s pet rat.” She frowned at the stain on her skirt. She just had it cleaned. “Of all the pets he could have gotten...”

“Says a lot about a man.”

She glanced at Rockline sideways. She’d never thought of it that way. Though she despised the vile rodent, she thought it was endearing that Merlin grew soft and started to treat his lab rat as a pet. She thought it was adorable when she'd caught him chatting with the critter like with an old friend. On the other hand, it was a bit sad that a rat was the extent of his social life.

“Forgive my curiosity, miss, but I must ask. Why do you work for the demon?”

“He’s only part-demon.”

“Which part?” Rockline asked with a playful smirk. He appeared much younger now in the brightness of the lab. He paused at the entrance and took in the large room. “Remind me what type of demon is he?”

“He's an Incubus cambion,” she emphasized the last word. Rockline had to have known that a pure-blooded demon couldn't survive on Earth for over three days. She didn't want to insult him by giving him a lesson on the limitations of realm traveling.

“Like the perp that broke in here? Strange coincidence for two lust demons to gather under one roof like this, wouldn't you say, miss?”

“Yes. It took me by surprise. Besides Merlin I've never met another Incubus. He's not at all like everyone describes Incubi. It makes me question where the 'lust demon' reputation came from. Merlin certainly doesn't deserve it.”

“That you know of, miss. But a nice young lady like yourself must have had better options in employment.”

She shook her head. “Not in the field I love. This is as close to becoming a runecaster as a human can get. I've been fascinated with magic ever since I was a little girl,” she admitted, sipping what was left of her coffee. “It was a hobby at first. After all, I have no demon heritage, so I will never cast a rune. But then, I learned that the Glass Garden University offered an Arcane Studies major and I couldn't resist. I was the only human in that field, but I did great and I was invited to the Magitech Expo. I might have fangirled a bit when I saw Merlin. He was showing off his prototype hoverpod.” Heat rose to her cheeks at the memory. “I couldn't believe I got to meet the one and only inventor of magitech in person. I mean, there was an entire course dedicated to him back in uni. I was so nervous when I met him, I rambled and went on a rant about the genius of his rechargeable orbs—which he invented as a child, mind you—and he was impressed that I understood how they worked. You talk like a runecaster, he said. And that's how I got this dream job,” she sighed, “of babysitting him.”

While Rockline explored the room, poking at Merlin’s abandoned projects and spare parts, she approached the mysterious large sphere Merlin had been working on last. He didn’t clean up after himself, leaving his tools strewn on the floor, and there was broken glass everywhere.

“I’m not his maid,” she whispered to herself and tried to not notice it. She paused, seeing blood droplets soiling the floor. “Officer? This must be where the burglar cut his hand.”

Rockline came over and squatted in front of the blood spatter. “Possible sign of struggle. You’re sure the old demon wasn’t here at the time?”

The knot was back in her stomach, and she put her coffee down before it would spill again. “I don’t think so, but I can't be sure. It all happened in such a short timeframe.”

“It always does. It might mean nothing. I wouldn't worry about it, miss.”

“Mick, come in,” a radio crackled.

Rockline unclipped the boxy receiver from his belt. “Go ahead, Al.”

“No sign of the perp. I’m coming back for you.”

“Copy that.”

“You don’t like Crystophones?” Tristine asked, watching him clip the vintage radio back to his waist. “Much better audio quality and the police-issued models come with a directory of every number in the city.”

He stuffed his little notebook inside his back pocket. “Too dainty for police work. Besides, no need to pull the tooth that ain’t hurting. I must get going, miss. We’ll keep an eye out for that red tail. Gotta keep our city safe from his kind.” He gave her his business card. “Feel free to reach out anytime when you’re ready to report something stolen or for any other reason. I’ll see myself out.”

“Thank you, Mick,” she said, reading his name off the card.

He flashed her a polite smile and tipped his hat again, saying his goodbyes.

Tristine finished her coffee and looked around, wondering if anything was missing from the lab. It would help if Merlin had kept any kind of order in here. What was the boy after? Unlike most wealthy people, Merlin didn’t surround himself with overpriced decor or brag-worthy collectibles. The most valuable objects in this house were his proprietary designs, inventions in progress, and the ones he had not patented yet. Could that cambion have been after Merlin’s latest project, the mysterious glass sphere? At least it was too large for him to carry it away. Why did he break it though?

She walked around it, admiring the sleek beauty of the ciphered runes etched into the glass. Merlin had been obsessing over this thing for months now, neglecting all commissioned work. She traced a finger down the smooth glass dome and examined the connection to a reservoir that stored enough magic to sustain the entire city for a month.

“What are you building here that needs this much power?”

She migrated toward his desk and eyed the scattered papers. Right under a pile of graphs was a blue leather-bound book. His journal. She glanced at the door and back at the inconspicuous book. In his daily scribbles, he could have mentioned what the machine was for. She tentatively flipped a page, listening for signs that he was coming back. It landed on a hurried script with lines pointing from one messy entry to another. 

She snapped the journal shut before reading a word. Her heart banged against her chest as she put it back where she found it. Merlin had nasty trust issues already. Satisfying her curiosity wasn’t worth losing her dream job.

But she had much to discuss with him when he returned.