Chapter 5

"But you can do it?"

"I stand a better chance. I grew up with him; I know all his dirty tricks. I'm also far, far larger as a kraken-but I need a great deal of water, so we'll see."

Anderson's brows shot up. "You're even bigger? He's huge in kraken form! I remember how much of the lake he took up whenever they showed the news reports. Even in human form, he's enormous. He's also an asshole outside of the whole murder thing."

"You've met my brother?"

"I was a bus boy at a diner he used to frequent in Bottomless Lake."

"Right. That must have been pleasant." Bottomless Lake still held the record for the most people killed and eaten by Wynn.

Anderson made a face. "I really hope the Bureau is able to catch the sick bastard somehow."

"Me too," Lynn said. "On top of everything else, it pisses me off how much he fucks up everyone's image of krakens."

Wynn was one of the many reasons no one was willing to work with Lynn. He was lucky the Bureau wasn't allowed to get rid of him simply because he was a kraken. But being everyone's least favorite option meant he always got stuck with problem agents. Made him wonder what a cute little unicorn could have done to get stuck with him. Unicorns were grade ones-sparkles and sunshine and sugar. Not the kind usually put with a problematic tentacle monster suffering from arrogance, vanity, and extreme possessiveness. Although no one seemed to mind his possessive tendencies when they were dating him, right up until the moment they did, but he refused to dwell on that and ruin his mood. "So how did you get stuck with me?"

"Politics," Anderson replied with a sigh, bracing his elbow against the car window and resting his chin in his hand. "I'm from the Raleigh office. Was dating an accountant there. Broke up with him. His father is a higher up and does whatever his children want so they'll leave him alone. So here I am."

Lynn turned the car on and, once it was all clear, pulled into traffic. He stopped at a red light and cast Anderson a side look. "You have a thing with exes, don't you?"

"No," Anderson muttered. He folded his arms across his chest and slumped in his seat. "Maybe a small thing."

Grinning, Lynn put his attention back on traffic as the light changed. "So should I call you Sparkleson McSlut, or Slutterson McSparkle?"

"How about you go fuck yourself. I was in that office fifteen minutes and I heard all about just how chaste you are."

"I'm not a unicorn who will catch ten times the hell for it. Everyone sort of expects tentacle monsters to be slutty."

"Stereotypes are unbecoming and shouldn't be perpetuated," Anderson said sourly.

Lynn snorted in amusement. "Says the man in a shiny pink and yellow tie with a jeweled flower for a shift ring who devoured a bright pink cupcake in thirty seconds flat."

"Fuck you, monster of the deep. I've heard how bitchy you get about everything you think belongs to you. They told me all about how tetchy you get when your sister is around."

"Yes, well, I have to prepare them. If they aren't willing to brave the obnoxious, over-protective brother, they'll never survive my parents or, more importantly, my sister. She's way worse than me-she just hides it so it hurts more later. She's secretly sadistic, trust me."

Anderson made a soft noise that might have been derision or amusement, Lynn couldn't tell quite which. He liked the idea of amusement better, so decided not to ask, focusing instead on merging onto the highway. "We've got two hours until we reach Parkview."

"I'm going to make a wild guess and say you're not the kind to travel in silence?" Anderson asked.

"You would be correct. What do you want to start with: sports or office gossip?"

"Office gossip. Have you heard the BS about vacation time?"

"Don't even get me started," Lynn said and launched into a tirade.

~~*

Though he was sorely tempted to go straight to where his half-brother was hiding, Lynn knew better. It hadn't actually been confirmed that Wynn was the perp, so interviews and investigation were the name of the game. That meant talking to the witnesses who had filed reports, which was always so much fun.

Their first stop was a house so tooth-achingly perfect suburban McMansion that Lynn wanted to vandalize it just to restore balance. He parked on the curb and climbed out, sneering at the white picket fence with meticulously arranged yellow and pink roses growing in front of it.

Anderson pushed open the gate and led the way up a white stone walkway. Lynn sneezed from the overabundance of flowers perfuming the air, swatting irritably at a bee as it buzzed around them. Reaching the white door, Anderson ignored the bright gold knocker in favor of rapping the door firmly with his knuckles. Shadows moved in the hallway beyond, just visible through frosty glass and gauzy curtains, and a beat later the door was opened by a woman who looked like she'd stepped out of a movie about creepily perfect housewives from the 1950s.

The file had said this particular couple were goblins, which explained it-they were so determined to avoid being seen as typical goblins they had tipped too far the other way. "Mrs. Moore?" Anderson greeted as they pulled out their badges.

"Oh." She clucked. "It's about time you got here. Come right in, please. The drawing room is right this way. Something to drink? Water? Tea? Coffee?"

Lynn shook his head. "No, thank you." She led them into a room as magazine perfect and creepy as she, everything expensive looking but bland. A man sat on the couch reading an old-looking book, hair perfectly frosted, a pink sweater around his shoulders, and a delicate-looking cup of what smelled like orange-infused black tea on the end table. He held out a hand, and they exchanged handshakes before Lynn and Anderson took the seats indicated.