Chapter 1

Carver

The man sat surrounded by wooden figurines, dozens of birds in various positions, as he carefully carved out another. As he worked on the eyes of the jackdaw, the bell rang to announce a visitor. He quickly glanced at the security monitor next to him, before returning to his handiwork.

His visitor, an adolescent barely old enough to drink, made his way through the antique store, taking off his cap when he reached the back. "Mister Carver sir, I have bad news. The police caught the recent shipment."

He nodded at that. "I heard. I'm not concerned. I didn't see my own order in the captured evidence, so that shipment should arrive at another time."

When he saw his visitor's confused looks, he cursed internally. So someone was playing games then. Not the visitor, though, who explained his confusion. "But I was told your own goods were taken as well, sir. Heard it from folks working for the Deacon. They voiced concerns over our lack of defences."

Carver shook his head in turn. "Forget what I said then. Don't tell anyone." He continued, clarifying for the sake of his puzzled visitor. "Clearly, someone wants to short me and pretend the police have my goods. No matter. I will pursue other avenues to replenish my stock, which still contains plenty. Just keep your mouth shut."

He put the jackdaw to the side, looking over the other carvings before carefully picking out one of a dove. "Here, take this to your grandmother. She should know where to find the hinge. And tell her not to worry. There's plenty where this came from."

With a nod, the man ran off, the dove concealed within his jacket. Left behind, Carver looked at the jackdaw he had been working on. He should finish it, but not today. Not when he was frustrated over the Reverend Deacon sabotaging him. What point was there for the man to restrict his supply of anti-vampire and anti-fae weaponry? He wasn't sure, but whatever game the Reverend was playing, it would mean trouble for him. He'd best prepare.

Katya

The entire Zeehavenpolitie police station was practically buzzing as everyone was gossiping about the big bust from the previous night. Didn't help that they had half a dozen arrest team members standing guard at a dedicated evidence room. This find was so large, they had to keep their eyes on it. None dared risk being the one that had it locked away before disappearing.

Nearby, an office door sat open, allowing the occupant to keep her eyes on the evidence room's entrance. Her disgruntled eyes rather unnerved the agents guarding it. On the wall next to her door, a slate clearly showed her identity. "Inspector Katya Daskalova." They could read, and they had heard of her. Enough reason to behave.

Inside the office, a police officer grinned at the inspector. "You should frown a bit less, boss. It's rather unsettling, really. They're doing their jobs just fine, no need to intimidate them into doing so."

She shook her head, then put her attention back at the whiteboard on her right, covered in photos taken of the bust. Strings and written notes connected and commentated everything. She had gotten to add weight amounts to it just now. "I find this more unsettling than my grumpy looks, Sem. Take a good look and tell me what you're missing."

He looked at the board, not realising at first. After about a minute, she heard him softly curse something in Dutch. At once, he grabbed a tablet and tapped way. About forty seconds later, he found what he was looking for and cursed once more. This time, she recognised the curse, something related to tuberculosis.

Sem looked up at her with a sigh. "No special weaponry. This cargo purely contains tools for combat, but there's nothing to fight Fae or vamps with." He looked at the whiteboard, now doing the same math she had. "This one is just for fighting people. They're preparing for war."

"Correct. So now we got to ask, is it a good thing we intercepted that, or will it only make things worse?" She heard him curse once more. It was good to know he was taking this serious.

Carver

The streets were noisier than normal, with people huddling together for gossiping conversations. Obviously they were discussing the bust. Everyone already knew it involved a shipment that was meant to go to the Reverend. That in itself wasn't the problem. But by now, they already heard stories of what had been caught, which worried them more.

As Carver leisurely walked through, people looked at him and hushed. When he had gone by, the sound returned but less of it. Ah, they already were remembering. Don't get involved in business. Wouldn't stop them from gossiping, but now they remembered to look around for the wrong kind of ears first.

It was worrisome how quickly things had leaked out. Worse, when people looked Carver's way and discussed his business. He overheard people worrying about his supply, then others mentioning none of his goods were involved in the bust. The police had better data control than this, which meant someone else was leaking the info. Someone wanted the world to know that the Reverend was gearing up for war, yet had lost the material for his first strike.

It wouldn't be long before the people reached the same conclusion as Carver. That the Reverend was fine with it. That he let his men leak the info. He was setting a trap. Which meant this wasn't the first shipment. The bust hurt him, but he was already ready for war.

These streets would empty out for a while once people reached that conclusion. None of them would be interested in getting involved in an enemy strike. And with the amount of mafia members that still lived here, even if the Deacon knew better than keep his bases here, it still put the entire area at risk.

Though Carver didn't expect that to happen. The Deacon's warehouses were a more likely target. But if worry kept people out of trouble, he was all for it. Times like these made it too easy for people to cause trouble. Better that everyone acted careful, to prevent anything supernatural from taking hold.

Katya

The police canteen was as dirty as ever. The lunch rush had left dirty tables everywhere, because why would anyone bother putting their dirty dishes away. Special Ops had cleared a couple of tables and dragged them together, allowing everyone to quietly discuss last night. They could speak relatively freely, because the remaining staff was trustworthy, verified by multiple layers of security. That included the cold iron cutlery that they handled all day.

The general consensus was that Katya's theory was likely correct. The Deacon was preparing for war. And no good had ever come of organised crime waging war on each other. Especially when that involved heavy weaponry. But why now, though?

"I'm guessing Strawberry Dust," Sem said between bites from his sandwich. Simple white bread with peanut butter, the same way he always ate. He despised the idea of eating warm for lunch, almost as much as he despised the idea of eating fancy.

Several nodded, then looked at Katya, asking their commanding officer for her opinion with their eyes. She sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right. It's been on the rise, spreading throughout the entire country and even beginning to get a foothold in Germany. And we're the hatch. They're all getting their supplies through Rotterdam. Last I heard, Madrina Sartori was already clashing with the Deacon for market share. He must have decided to get greedy."

"Right. So what do we do next?" He already knew, but he wanted her to say it. Always subtly trying to support Katya's authority, due to some people disliking her on account of gender and origin. After all, she was one of those pesky refugees, and it was 'her' hometown that caused them the occasional headache.

Katya stirred her noodles with her chopsticks, her appetite far from great today. "I'm meeting with Anne from the prosecution office in half an hour. We'll discuss logistics on safeguarding the evidence. No doubt they'll send people to count everything, then take it all into custody. It should barely fit into the ironclads."

"Ah, Anne is back to work? Heard she was sick for a while, nobody heard much of her." That was true. Quite unlike the woman, but nobody really blamed her. Work was rather stressful these days. "Speaking of absences, how was your vacation, boss?"

She was in the middle of taking a bite so had to chew and swallow first. "Horrible. Due to the Dust craze, they made me stay in the country, in case they needed me for an escalation. So I wanted to go to the beach, but the rain meant I was stuck inside all day. The only thing I really hate about this country. Well, that and snert."

As a loud debate on Dutch cuisine started, the kitchen staff came and cleared the nearby tables. With the conversation shifted, they no longer had to worry about overhearing things. While everyone argued, Katya forced down her noodles. She needed all the energy she could get.