Moving quickly into the living room, Henry picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

“…while playing in the backyard with her mother working in the garden only meters away. There is rising fear in this traumatized community that a bear or cougar or other large predator has come out of the mountains and is feeding upon their children.”

Henry suspected the reporter had taken advantage of a live feed to get that last line on the air.

The young woman stared at the camera with wide-eyed intensity and the certain knowledge that this was her time in the spotlight. “Julie Martin’s distraught father has declared his intention of ‘taking care’ of who or whatever has made off with his precious little girl. A spokes-person from the Ministry of Natural Resources has suggested that it would be dangerous for search parties to head into the wood unless accompanied by trained personnel but admits that their office is unable to provide trained personnel at this time.”

She makes it sound like the Ministry should have grizzled trackers standing by. Henry waited until they cut back to the news anchor who solemnly reiterated that four-year-old Julie Martin had disappeared without a trace in broad daylight, then, as the screen filled with a crowd of angry and near-hysterical townspeople standing outside the RCMP office, berating two harassed-looking constables for not having found the child, he turned off the set.

If Kevin Groves had gotten a call about Julie Martin’s disappearance and felt it had validity enough for him to call Tony, then the odds were good it wasn’t a police matter. Or a matter for the Ministry of Natural Resources, as it was currently mandated.

At 6:47 p.m. Tony would likely still be on the sound stage, so rather than leave him a message Henry went straight to the source.

“Western Star; Kevin Groves.”

“It’s Henry.”

Very faintly, Henry heard the reporter’s heartbeat speed up. Everyone had a hindbrain reaction to vampires, the most primal part of them gibbering in terror in the presence of an equally primal predator. Kevin Groves knew why.

“So, are you…That is, I mean…You’re calling about the missing Martin kid?”

“I am.”

“Werewolves.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“I had a tip that there’s werewolves in the mountains.”

There was, in fact, a pack working an old mining claim just outside of Ashcroft. “And you believe that a werewolf took Julie Martin?” It wasn’t unheard of for a were to go rogue; they were more or less human after all.

“No. Just that there’s werewolves in the mountains, but if that’s the case then…”

“Then?” Henry prodded when Kevin’s voice trailed off.

“Well, you know. Werewolves!”

“Is that it?”

“One of the Martins’ neighbors saw something large and hairy carrying a small body.”

“In its mouth?”

“No, but…”

“Werewolves don’t have an intermediate state. They look like wolves or they look human.” Essentially like wolves and essentially like humans but close enough. “It’s not werewolves.”

“The old lady seemed pretty sure it wasn’t a Sasquatch.”

Even six months ago Henry would have believed it wasn’t a Sasquatch went without saying. “Large and hairy?”

“That’s what she said.”

They couldn’t save every child who went missing in British Columbia but large and hairy pointed toward something the police might not be able to handle. “Give me the witness’s name and we’ll check it out.”

“So”—just past the Spuzzum exit, Henry pulled out and passed an empty logging truck then tucked his 1976 BMW back into the right lane—“where’s Lee?”

“He’s down in L.A. for a couple of days, auditioning for a movie of the week.”

“He’s leaving Darkest Night?” Lee Nicholas, Tony’s partner, was one of the leads in the popular syndicated vampire detective show.

“What? No.” That pulled Tony’s attention off the screen of his PDA. “They’ll be shooting in Vancouver; he figures he can do both. C.B.’s willing to adjust our shooting schedule if necessary.”

“That doesn’t sound like him.” Chester Bane was notoriously inflexible when it came to situations that might cost him money.

“He’s hoping he can scam some free publicity.”

Henry snorted. “That does. What,” he asked a few kilometers later when it became obvious Tony wasn’t going to pick up the conversational ball, “are you finding so fascinating on that thing?”

“Sorry, I was just going over the list of possible…um, things.”

“Things.”

“Suspects who might have taken the kid. But they’re not exactly people.”

Eyes nearly closed in the glare of oncoming headlights, Henry sighed. “Let’s hear the list.”

“Well, there’s Bugbears, a kind of a hairy giant goblin. Or Chimeras, because the lion and goat parts are hairy and that might have been all they saw. It could be any one of a number of different demons but then we need to find out who’s calling them. Uh…” He squinted at the screen as he scrolled down. “Displacer Beasts look like cougars except they’re black and have tentacles so it wouldn’t necessarily be carrying the kid in its mouth. Ettins are two-headed giants that live in remote areas and—”

“Tony, where did you get this list?”

“Sort of from Kevin Groves.”

“Sort of?”

“He lent me an RPG monster index. RPG: role playing game,” Tony expanded when Henry’s silence made it obvious he had no idea what that meant. “Like Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Really? Because it’s old. Well, oldish.” When Henry replied with more silence, he sighed. “I wanted to go in with more information than hairy thing that eats children and hopefully isn’t a werewolf.”

“So you went to a game?”

It was Tony’s turn to snort as he powered down and twisted around to slip the PDA into a side pocket on his backpack. “Yeah, well believe it or not, Googling big hairy eats children doesn’t pull up anything useful.”

“But imaginary…”

“Henry, whatever this is, I guarantee it’ll be considered imaginary by most of the world. Hell, we’re considered imaginary by most of the world.”

“I’m sure more people than you expect believe in third assistant directors.”

“You’d be surprised.” Slouching down as far as the seat belt would allow, he propped his knees up on the dashboard. “Ninety-nine percent of the world’s population is in denial about something. Take you, for instance.”

That drew Henry’s attention off the road. “Me?”

“You’re still in denial about Vicki’s birthday.”

“I said I’d get her something.”

“Yeah, but it has to be something good and I don’t think you’re giving it much thought.”

“There’s a child missing….”

“You want to talk about that all the way to Lytton? Because I don’t.”

“Fine.” Henry pulled out and passed a pair of trucks. “What about a gift certificate?”

“Dude, it’s a good thing you’re hard to kill.”

The village of Lytton was about a two-hour drive from Vancouver. Henry had picked Tony up at his apartment in Burnaby at twenty to eight, and it was a quarter to ten when Henry left the highway and steered the BMW down Main Street.

“You think they usually roll the sidewalks up this early,” Tony wondered, staring out at the dark windows, “or is this a reaction to the Martin kid getting grabbed?”

“Bit of both, I expect.”

“I feel like we’re being watched from behind lace curtains.”

“Why lace?” Henry asked.

“I don’t know.” Tony waggled the fingers of his left hand in front of his face, sketching in the air lacy lines of power that dissipated almost instantly. “It’s creepier I guess.”

“I don’t know about the lace, but we’re definitely being watched.” Henry could feel the fear and anger roiling through the town. Could feel some it directed toward them. With a child missing in a village of only three hundred and eight souls, any and all strangers would be suspect. “It might be best if we were…unnoticed.”