Ares closed the door to the office, giving the Detective his privacy. He had intentionally left without feeding Snow because she had been fed twice the night before. He’d decided it was best to fast her for the day. Though the night was still young, he would know by the size of her belly tomorrow if the Detective had fed her.

Ares walked thoughtfully down the stairwell. The Detective’s office was above a restaurant called A Taste of India, which caused a constant supply of exotic aromas. Ares loved it though he knew some humans found the smell overpowering. He no longer ate human food, but he could still appreciate it.

Oddly enough, the Detective’s office seemed to escape the smell. Perhaps it had a little magick of its own. It always smelled of books and cherry tobacco regardless of the odors dominating the stairwell and hallway.

Ares stepped out of the dull orange door at the back entrance and called his driver on his cell. He decided he did not need his services for the evening. Ares had been driven by two generations of his current driver’s family. He missed Yusuf senior. Yusuf’s son, Yusuf junior, was reliable but his endless complaining was enough to drive Ares out of the limo to walk half the time. “Hoy, my back is the aching constant. I think I need see specialist and mine boy, David, he need braces. Too crooked his teeth. If only mine boss give me a raise I might provide for heem.” He could drone on like that for hours, but Ares was a creature of habit and did not like the idea of switching drivers.

Tonight he would be relieved of his driver’s monologue. He was instead plagued by a twinge of guilt. He had not been entirely honest with the Detective—he had already prepared his lectures for Thursday.

When he woke up this evening, he had immediately pulled up Alexandria Docherty’s home address and phone number. A quick search on the Internet lead him to some high school literary awards and art exhibits, in addition to some photos of the polka band she had been in.

Not surprising in the least, she had temporarily dated the lead singer, an accordion player named Paul Kouwe, a young Caucasian male dressed in punk fashion with safety pins, a bad jean jacket with patches, and a mohawk. Ares would have been physically ill were he capable of it.

Ares printed off pictures and local news articles and began a file on her. He had memorized her home address and was on his way there. Docherty’s office was located on Danforth Avenue, but Alexandria’s apartment was somewhere near the High Park area. It was too far to walk this time of night.

Ares loathed public transport. The conglomerate of atrocious stimulants he encountered on the bus and subway was enough to turn his insides green. Being in such close proximity to humans and squashed into a metal tube made him uncomfortable. Sadly, he could not use his driver because he would want to know what Ares was up to and Ares needed to keep this investigation private. Yusuf and Docherty were good friends and Ares wouldn’t put the Detective in an awkward position—not to mention the man was incapable of secrecy. And so, with much discontent, he made his way to the nearest bus station.

Ares approached the bus stop but left a considerable amount of distance between himself and the other passengers. Having no wish to start a conversation, he focused instead on the busy street.

The Danforth was alive with its usual characters. It was known as a Greek section of the city which Ares enjoyed because his mother was Greek. It was bursting with theaters, restaurants, and boutiques, all of which were flooded with a host of humans, fairy, and otherkin.

Ares was not sure how A Taste of India snuck in, but a couple of Chinese and Japanese restaurants made their way in as well. Ares supposed even Greeks wanted to eat something other than Greek food from time to time. He was not involved with any of the Greek associations, but he did attend the Taste of the Danforth in August when he was not working. It was a street party that all the shops participated in. It seemed out of character for him but he sometimes felt nostalgia for his mother’s ancestry.

In terms of living, the area was a little too lower class for his tastes. Some might call him a snob—and Ares would not disagree. While he came here to work and visit, his condo was located on Spadina, near the entertainment district. Ares owned the building, in addition to several other buildings and businesses in the area. He had a private elevator for his penthouse to avoid the other tenants, his own driver, a sense of style, and a set of standards when it came to living and personal image. He couldn’t be bothered with neighbors. He simply didn’t have the time.

Ares heard a woman’s high-pitched laugh and looked over to the entrance of a busy dance club called Wine and Dionysus. The street sign glowed red above the door. The building was slate gray, and the door was as wine red as the sign.

The club was rumored to belong to the Greek god Dionysus. While Ares believed in Maenads, especially because they were the dancers and servers of the club (not to mention tended vineyards in Niagara with a host of fawns), he was not sure he believed in gods. Powerful spirits, old fairy with god-like qualities, perhaps, but not gods. If there were gods, they had never made themselves known to Ares. From what he had seen in investigations, if there ever had been gods, they had abandoned their magickal children a long time ago.

Next door, an ogre and a troll were bouncing for another club, Angels and Demons. They were both dressed in super-sized tuxedos and doing their best to appear civilized.

The troll had an oval face with big bat ears, a large, flat nose, a tail, and muscular arms. Its skin was a little moist looking (he most likely lived under a bridge) with a dark, yellowish color to it. The ogre was taller, with thick legs and arms more proportionate to its body. It had a round, human-like face. He was bald and wore such a ridiculous number of large silver hoop earrings that his ear lobes stretched down to his shoulders.

They were chatting with each other when a teenager attempted to get in. Ares watched with interest as the young man argued with the ogre. He was not surprised when the troll picked the teen up by the pants and chucked him, kicking and screaming, into the garbage in the back alley. According to law, the troll could not do him any real harm. Ares suspected the teen was all right, just a great deal smellier. The troll came back and high-fived the ogre, laughing.

From what he had heard of the club, it was not a place any respectable person should go. Ares was relieved they did not let the teenager in. He could smell some of his own kind inside and feel them through the stone walls, like an absence or depression. He knew they could feel him too. Not wishing to draw any unwanted attention to himself, he was eager for the bus to appear. When the bus for High Park finally arrived, Ares plugged his nose, and stepped in. 

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