Garrison Fawkes’ POV

It disgruntled me to go back to our guesthouse when I could have been out there helping with the search. But Uriel made me follow them back up the hill despite my vocal protestations. 

“We need to talk,” they informed me when we reached the front door.

I quietened in surprise. Oh. That explained why they insisted on returning to the guesthouse. I poured a glass of wine for myself when we returned. Uriel declined my offer. “What is it?” I asked.

They were silent for a while, pacing evenly around the living room. I did my best to wait patiently as they gathered their thoughts. Eventually, Uriel said, “I think there’s a connection between all four disappearances.”

“Hm,” I said.

Uriel turned to me. They had unbuttoned the first two buttons of their shirt and a triangle of pale skin connected to a slender neck glowed between the parted lace. “You don’t think so?” they asked.

I did think so, actually. But ever since Uriel had begun to wear less draping and just less clothing to cover themselves in general, I was finding it difficult to concentrate. It seemed like every time I thought I’d gotten used to their new fashion choices, they would change something and the whole cycle would restart itself. 

“Um, yes,” I answered vaguely, having processed their question. “The most obvious connection would be the merchant we met earlier. It does seem suspicious that of the four who have vanished from the Isles, three of them would have direct contact with the merchant.” 

Uriel hummed under their breath. “Sounds like a serial killer situation.”

“But that doesn’t explain the vanishing of everyone else who hasn’t met the merchant,” I said. 

The corners of Uriel’s mouth turned down with a frown. “You’re right. It doesn’t.” They sat down heavily on the couch chair. “My people would not have met him before.”

I joined them on the couch. “And yet,” I said gently, “there must be some connection, isn’t there?”

Uriel nodded. I didn’t like the frown that persevered on their face. We sat in silence for a while.

“What if there is a link?” I asked absentmindedly. Uriel had turned to me when I looked up. “What if the merchant is the link? We’ve talked to quite a few people already, and so far, people have merely vanished,” I said.

They appeared confused. “Merely?”

“Yes. Well,” I winced at my own word choice. “Not merely, but don’t you find it strange that everyone has vanished without a trace, no signs of struggle, no history of bad decisions or keeping bad company, that sort of thing?”

“I see what you mean,” murmured Uriel in surprise. “It’s too clean,” they said.

“Exactly,” I agreed, exhilarated. “One question,” I added thoughtfully. “Are humans considered magical beings?”

“No,” answered my friend. “They’d be the least magical on the scale if we were to compare all entities in this world.”

“Are there any beings equally non-magical?”

Again, they answered with a firm “no.”

“Right,” I muttered. “We haven’t heard of any missing humans, only magical beings. We don’t know if all magical beings are affected, but it seems only magical beings have been affected.”

“What are you trying to say?” asked Uriel. 

I looked at them grimly. “If I’m right—and I sincerely hope I’m not—we are dealing with a plague.” They didn’t say anything, mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line. “Think about it,” I urged them. “If there truly is a plague that only affects magical beings, then it would affect almost everyone.”

“But there are no symptoms,” Uriel returned.

“What if vanishing was the symptom? Or at least the final symptom. There could have been other effects, but no one has noticed, which means that they aren’t crazy or unnatural side effects.” My body was fully turned towards Uriel by now. I felt like I was vibrating. “I might not be completely right, but you agree with some of it, don’t you? A plague would make sense. It’s happened before, in Nasales.”

Uriel straightened slightly. “Yes, I remember that,” they said. 

They remembered the plague that killed the werewolves in Nasales? “That was almost two hundred years ago,” I whispered in awe. 

They nodded. “I said I remembered.”

“Right,” I whispered. “So, if it is a disease, the merchant could be one of the infected. He could have gotten it in his travels and brought it home. When did Adonis disappear?” I asked Uriel.

“Two months ago,” they replied.

There was a deep frown on my face. Two months was an incredibly short period of time for a disease to spread all the way to the Isles. We were not close to Nasales at all. “We need to talk to the merchant again,” I said finally. “Tomorrow, as soon the day is light.”

Uriel did not answer. They sat silently, hands wringing together. Eventually, I cleared my dirty wine glass and went to bed with no expectation of them sleeping. I still had yet to see them sleep or eat.

~

Bright and early the next morning, Uriel and I set off down the hill to find the merchant. I’d slept as well as I could possibly have—considering that we seemed to have an impending crisis to deal with in our hands.

If possible, the merchant looked even more sleepless than I felt. He answered the door shrouded in a sleeping robe of a more feminine style, like something his wife might wear perhaps. His home was clearly lived in, but more disorganised, like no one had picked up after themselves. 

There were only two people in the house. The merchant, a minotaur going by the name of Charon, and his housekeeper, who would be the only one left at home if he travelled again. In fact, the housekeeper was busy packing bags when Charon invited us in.

“How may I help you, gentlemen?” asked Charon as he led us to his living area for a seat. 

I shot a glance at Uriel when they didn’t correct the man. “I hope you don’t mind, but we would like to ask you some questions about your businesses and trading.”

Charon frowned. “What for?”

“To help us determine what might have happened to your wife and son,” I answered calmly.