"Buchanan." His voice carries the rough edge of someone who hasn't slept enough lately. "It's early as hell here. This better be good."
"It's about the artifact trafficking case I mentioned last month." The professional tone locks into place automatically. Jamie knows I don't call unless the situation requires his particular expertise. "I've got new intelligence suggesting the operation extends into Eastern Europe. Possibly ties to disappearances dating back decades."
"Christ, Cat. You know how to pick them." Papers rustle on his end. "Give me what you've got."
The sanitized version comes easily, wrapped in the truth he can actually investigate. Artifact trafficking instead of supernatural trafficking. Enhanced security systems instead of magical abilities. Dangerous criminals instead of phoenixes who've lived for centuries.
"There's a name that keeps appearing in the network. Mikhail Zharkov. He's connected to operations in Russia, Eastern Europe, and now the UK. I need everything you can find on him."
"Zharkov." Jamie pauses. "That name's familiar. Hold on."
I hear more rustling and the click of a keyboard. Then silence stretches too long.
"Jamie?"
"Cat, how sure are you about this name?"
"Very sure. Why?"
"Because I've got hits in databases going back decades. Different first names. Different nationalities. But always the same surname and always connected to trafficking or disappearances." His voice tightens. "Interpol has a flag on the name. So does MI6. There's an active investigation intowhether we're dealing with a multigenerational crime family or something else."
Something else. A phoenix who doesn't age, who simply changes identities every few decades to avoid suspicion. The database evidence confirms exactly what Anya and Finn told me.
"Send me everything you can access." Finn turns another body to ash, flames pouring from his mouth in a controlled stream. "And Jamie? Be careful who you share this with. The people involved have resources and connections we're only starting to understand."
"You sound like you're in over your head."
"I am. But I'm also closer to breaking this open than anyone's been in decades." The call ends before he can argue.
Finn finishes with the last body and shifts back to human form. Ash coats his skin in pale streaks. His eyes find mine across the clearing.
The time for answers has finally arrived. The distance between us closes with deliberate steps until I'm close enough that he can't avoid the confrontation. "You knew him. Mikhail Zharkov. You have history with him."
Finn's expression doesn't change, but his eyes change as the dragon surfaces. "Anya told you."
"She told me what she knew. Now you're going to tell me the rest." Anger builds in my chest despite the level tone I maintain. "You've been withholding information that could help us fight back. Information about what Zharkov is and how to kill him. And she told me about the Cork children. That they were all supernatural. That Zharkov's been targeting children with gifts before they even know what they are."
Something flickers across Finn's face. "I wondered about that," he says quietly. "It would make sense of Mikhail's obsession. He's not just experimenting on adults anymore. He's trying to catch them young, shape them from the beginning."
"Mikhail? You know him that well?" The way he says the name catches me off guard. "You've been withholding information," I press again. "People have died because you won't talk."
"People have died because Mikhail is a monster." Finn's voice stays calm, but heat pours off his skin, and the dragon-fire waits just beneath the surface. "He's been perfecting his craft for centuries. Telling you what he is doesn't change how we fight him."
"It changes everything. If he's a phoenix, he regenerates. Which means normal tactics won't work." Refusing to back down, I step closer to the rising temperature between us. "So talk. Now. Or I swear to God, Finn, I will make this a formal police interrogation and arrest you for obstruction."
Something flickers across Finn's face that might be amusement. Brief and dark, but there. A dragon-shifter amused by the threat of human law enforcement.
Then his shoulders drop slightly. Some of the heat bleeds away. "At a point in the dim past, we were friends." His voice goes rough, scraping across old wounds that clearly haven't healed. "Mikhail holds me responsible for the death of someone we both loved. Someone who chose me. He tried to save her and couldn't, and he's never forgiven me for it."
His teeth grind together. His hands flex at his sides. The centuries-old grief has nowhere left to go.
"I've spent lifetimes hunting him. Learning his patterns. Waiting for the moment when I could finally make him pay for what he did." Finn looks at me directly. "But phoenixes are nearly impossible to kill. They regenerate from fire and ash. You have to destroy them so thoroughly that there's nothing left to regenerate from."
"Dragon-fire."
"Dragon-fire." He nods slowly. "It's the only thing I've found that burns hot enough. But I have to catch him first. Have to get past his security and his enhanced shifters and his decades of paranoia. And he knows I'm coming for him. Has known for centuries. That's why he's so careful."
"The attack on the cottage. He wasn't there."
