Uriel’s POV

The merchant ship neared the Isles of Crete around midday. It is sunny and humid and the air tastes salty on my tongue. Garrison won’t look me in the eye. He pretends that nothing happened last night and if I weren’t who I was, his behaviour would have confused me.

As it stood, I knew exactly why he was avoiding me. And I couldn’t say anything about it.

We disembarked at the bustling docks, where many dark-skinned men and women worked to haul the loads off the boat. Azrael was waiting for us, wrapped in a pale blue toga that accentuated her dark features. 

Garrison kindly helped me off the plank, cheeks pink as he looked everywhere but at my face. It was a little amusing; I had not expected my captain to be this shy.

Azrael gave us the key notes of her own findings since the council meeting. It wasn’t a lot. 

Not many of her people on the Isles had disappeared, and those who weren’t currently on the islands couldn’t exactly be classified as vanished. Consisting of atolls, the Isles of Crete had many people living on all their tiny islands. And these people needed supplies and resources, provided by the merchants and suppliers who sailed their ships and ferried goods in between atolls. 

Anyone who wasn’t currently on the main island could simply be a supplier on one of these rounds or a merchant who had yet to return from their business trips. And harder still, there were no discernible symptoms or signs of struggle from those who had disappeared. It was incredibly difficult to know who would vanish next and when it would happen.

However, it had been discovered that a very small group of people had vanished from the main island. A fisherman’s daughter and the son of a merchant who had just turned of age. Their disappearances had come roughly around the same time and half their friends and family thought they had run away together. Their relatives were mostly upset that they had apparently eloped instead of having the traditional wedding in the temples.

It seemed that news of the strange occurrences had not yet reached the Isles. Or at least, Azrael had not wanted to cause alarm before cause and preventions could be investigated.

“How many people are left unaccounted for?” I asked Azrael. 

She frowned unhappily. “Too many. The Isles are made of close to a hundred islands. We have almost as many people whose job is to make the supply runs to those islands. And they’ve only set off two weeks ago. The full cycle takes close to a month.” Azrael’s fists clenched in frustration. “And there are our merchants to consider too. Some of them left a month ago, some yesterday. We will not know who is gone until they don’t come back. Even then, it would be a heavily delayed conclusion.”

I nodded with a frown of my own. Garrison’s look mirrored mine.

“I’m sorry I could not be of more help. There hasn’t been enough time to come up with a correct response to this and I didn’t want to cause undue panic among my people,” said Azrael. 

“I understand,” I told her kindly. “Although you may want to start asking people to be more cautious for now. And ask people to make a report if anyone is gone for more than a full day.”

Azrael nodded thoughtfully. “It would help if we could take attendance, yes. I’ll see what I can do.”

~

Garrison and I would remain on the Isles for another week or so, to help Azrael come up with appropriate policies and responses to the strange disappearances; something that I was increasingly calling a ‘pandemic’ in my mind. If it truly was a pandemic, we would be in a lot of trouble if we couldn’t figure out the causes.

Since we had only just arrived, Azrael led us to her guest house, a small property at the top of a gentle incline. We were to stay there for the duration of our visit and if we needed anything, she was five minutes away in another little house at the bottom of the slope.

Garrison’s face was a sight when he realised there were two bedrooms, like he didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. Or both.

Our first half of the week was spent in meetings with Azrael and her community leaders to work out a method of taking attendance on all atolls. And also, to craft announcements for the inevitable sharing of information with the public.

And our nights were spent in the guest house. I’d make dinner for Garrison and watch approvingly as he ate. Though I didn’t eat, it gave me a sense of pride to see him enjoying my cooking. Garrison had finally stopped trying to avoid my gaze and his blush no longer coloured his neck, which was only a little bit of a pity.

~

The first few days passed without incidents. It was only our fourth night on the Isles that someone reported the first vanishing. Garrison and I were in our guesthouse when someone pounded on the door. 

“What’s going on?” Garrison demanded when he yanked the door open. The caller nearly fell into the house. 

“Lady Azrael sent me to collect both of you,” he informed us breathlessly. “Someone has reported a missing person.”

Garrison and I shared a glance. “Lead the way,” I said.

We followed the agitated young man to the meeting room we’d be spending our days in. Azrael was seated at the head of the table, mouth pressed in a grim line. Her chief of police sat on her right, and on her left were two men. Two nervously fidgeting men.

Their features were similar, the same rounded noses and eyes, though one was more shabbily dressed than the other. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they turned out to be cousins or siblings. 

“What happened?” I asked once we’d all settled into our seats.

Azrael turned to the man closer to her. “Go ahead. Tell them what you’ve told me,” she instructed gently.

He nodded listlessly. “My—my wife,” he stuttered. “She’s missing. She hasn’t come home in two days. I don’t know—” the man breaks off to put his face in his hands. The other man with significantly less embellished clothing puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“My wife is also missing,” said the one in a simple cotton tunic. “I am a fisherman, and my wife sells the fish in the market. But she hasn’t been seen in two days.”

“Do they know each other?” asked Garrison. 

“They are sisters. Sometimes,” he muttered, “my wife visits her sister and stays overnight. It is why I didn’t realise she was gone.”

The merchant had calmed down enough to look up, though his eyes were red and puffy. “And I had an argument with mine, so when she disappeared, I thought she’d gone to stay with her sister.”

“Sorry, just curious,” Garrison murmured. “Are you guys also related?”

The fisherman looked surprised. “No, we aren’t. My family are all fishermen or fishmongers. His family are merchants.”

Well, it certainly explained the clothing situation. “What was the argument about?” I asked.

The merchant shook his head despairingly. “I don’t know. I can’t remember what we were even fighting about. It might have been about her spending habits, or my business trips, or our son.”

Garrison started. “Your son?” 

“Yes,” the merchant side miserably. “He ran off with a fishmonger’s daughter. It’s all my fault. If I had not overreacted—” he broke off again.

There was a question in Garrison’s eyes when I looked at him. It was the same one I had. What was the relation between the merchant and his family’s disappearances? Assuming his son had vanished and not actually run away.

There wasn’t anything we could do for the two men at the moment. Azrael sent them with reassurances that people were on the case and kind words to get some rest. She also told us that we should get our own rest too. A task force had already been sent to look for the missing people on the islands. In the meantime, it made no sense for us to sit around and wait, so we were to go back to our guesthouse and reconvene in the morning.

Garrison seemed like he disagreed, but I dragged him back to the guesthouse with me. There was something I wanted to discuss with him.