Chapter 15
Monsters To Hunt
Astrid Mathieson
Nine AM finds me waiting in interview room six, twenty minutes early because preparation matters.
Unlike the sparse interrogation rooms in the basement, this one's designed for cooperative witnesses—comfortable padded chairs, a polished wooden table, even a small side table with a coffee station.
The two-way mirror remains, of course, but it's framed like an actual mirror, a small nod to the pretense that this is just a friendly conversation.
I've spent half the night reviewing Rossi's file.
Thirty-two years with GUIDE, twenty of them specializing in chimera containment.
Retired after a mission in Prague went sideways, resulting in the deaths of two junior agents.
The official report cites "operational differences with leadership," which usually means he told someone important to go fuck themselves.
Just the kind of person who might actually tell me the truth.
The door opens, and Ghost slips in, carrying a cup of coffee from my favorite cart outside the office building. His split lip looks better today, but the bruising I know he suffered to his ribcage in Rome makes his movements careful, deliberate.
"Thought you could use this." He slides the cup toward me. "Rossi just cleared security downstairs. Sherlock's already behind the glass."
I take the iced americano, grateful for both the caffeine and Ghost's quiet support.
I glance at the two-way mirror, wondering how long Sherlock's been standing there, analyzing my every move.
Probably arrived twenty minutes early just like me.
At least both my partners aren't out to get me.
"Thanks. Any word on our temporary replacements? "
"Williams and Reyes." He makes a face. "Williams is all tactical, ex-military. Reyes is tech, communications specialist. They're both competent, but..."
"But they're not us." I finish for him.
"They're playing it by the book. Following standard containment protocols." Ghost lowers his voice. "Problem is, nothing about these chimeras is standard."
I nod, understanding his concern. These by-the-book agents won't adapt when faced with chimeras behaving so far outside established patterns. They'll follow protocol right into a body bag. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
"You think Rossi knows something he didn't put in his reports?" Ghost asks.
"Thirty years tracking the same type of creature? He knows more than we do." I take a sip of coffee.
"See you after, Blades." He squeezes my shoulder gently, then heads for the door. "I'll send Rossi in."
After Ghost leaves, I spend the next three minutes reviewing my notes one last time, though I've practically memorized Rossi's file by now. I can't help glancing at the two-way mirror, knowing Sherlock is studying my every move like I'm some kind of specimen.
On impulse, I make a small adjustment to my tablet screen, angling it just enough that he can't see what I'm looking at. A petty move, but sometimes it's the little victories. I straighten my jacket, check my watch twice, and take another sip of coffee. Waiting has never been my strong suit.
Three minutes later, Antonio Rossi enters the room.
It's only been days since we pulled him from that panic room in Rome, but he looks like a different man today.
His ashen complexion replaced by the weathered tan of a field agent who spent decades outdoors.
His iron-gray hair is neatly combed, and he's traded the rumpled clothes of that night for a pressed button-down shirt and slacks.
Only his eyes remain the same—alert, observant, carrying the wariness and intelligence of someone who's seen a lot.
"Agent Mathieson." His handshake is firm, his voice steadier than the last time I heard it. "Good to see you under better circumstances."
"Mr. Rossi. Glad to see you've recovered from our last encounter." I gesture to the coffee bar behind him. "Please feel free to grab a coffee."
"Thank you." He pours a cup of black and settles into the chair, his eyes briefly flicking to the mirror before returning to me. "Your team made quite an impression that night. Not many agents have faced chimeras and lived to file reports."
"We were lucky. And we had good intel, thanks to your previous field reports. Though I wish we'd arrived sooner."
You got there in time. That's what matters." His expression darkens. "Unlike the two teams before yours."
"You've encountered more chimera than anyone in GUIDE history," I say, getting to the point. "Sixteen confirmed containments over twenty years."
"Seventeen, actually." A shadow crosses his face. "The last one didn't make the official record."
Interesting. I make a mental note to circle back to that later. "What can you tell me about the chimeras we encountered in Rome? Two males, working in tandem."
Rossi pauses, coffee cup halfway to his lips. "Two males? You're certain of that?"
"The biology team confirmed it from tissue samples we recovered."
He sets his cup down carefully. "In thirty-two years with GUIDE, I've never seen or heard of male chimeras hunting together. Ever." His eyes hold mine, conveying the significance.
My pulse quickens. "Why do you think that is?"
"Chimeras are apex predators that aggressively defend their hunting grounds." He leans forward slightly. "Males especially will fight to the death rather than share territory. Even in captivity, we couldn't house them together."
I pull up the crime scene photos on my tablet and slide it across to him. "Yet we have two working in perfect coordination."
Rossi studies the images, his expression growing increasingly troubled. "This isn't natural behavior. The synchronized attack patterns, the cooperation, the precision..." He looks up. "These aren’t hunts. These are executions."
If Rossi's right, and someone is controlling them... it changes everything about this case. I force my breathing to remain steady, aware of Sherlock's scrutiny from behind the glass.
"All the victims were retired GUIDE agents."
"Yes." He glances briefly at the mirror. "And that's the most troubling part. Chimeras hunt by instinct—they take prey of opportunity. They don't select specific human targets based on employment history. And in all my years, we documented very little human interaction with them."
"What are you suggesting, Mr. Rossi?"
"I'm suggesting that the carnage you witnessed across Italy defies everything we know about chimera behavior. Something—or someone—is overriding their natural instincts."
"Controlling them?" I keep my tone professional and calm, even though it’s the opposite of how I feel.
"It's the only explanation that fits the evidence." He taps the photos. "These aren't random kills."
I think of my father, his throat torn open with those distinctive double puncture wounds. Not a GUIDE agent, just a civilian—a forest ranger walking to his truck one evening. Wrong place wrong time? Or was the chimera that killed him being controlled too?
"That would require significant magickal ability," I point out. "And intimate knowledge of chimeras."
"Yes." His gaze is steady now. "And they're using that knowledge to eliminate specific people."
"People who’ve worked with chimeras?"
"Yes, all the victim names you’ve shared with me are those who worked with chimera containment and disposal.”
"One last question, Mr. Rossi." I keep my tone conversational. "Why did you ask to speak specifically with me? We've never met before my mission in Rome."
A small smile crosses his face. "Your reputation precedes you, Agent Mathieson. Perfect record. Highest containment success rate in your agency class." He pauses, studying me. "And you have a personal stake in this. I can see it in your eyes—the same look I had for twenty years."
There's no judgment in his weathered face. For a moment, I feel seen in a way that's both comforting and terrifying. Rossi understands what drives me, what keeps me hunting these creatures long after others would have quit.
I take a measured sip of my coffee and try not to choke. Hayes knows about why I joined GUIDE, but I don't think it's widely known.
“We all have our reasons for hunting monsters, Agent Mathieson." His voice softens. "Mine was losing my partner to one."
"Just doing my job, Mr. Rossi,” I answer vaguely, well-aware of Sherlock’s curiosity on the other side of the glass.
He nods, not believing me but respecting the boundary. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small notebook. "I brought something that might help your investigation. Field notes that never made it into the official reports. Patterns I noticed over the years."
He slides the notebook across the table. "I hope this helps, Agent Mathieson." He stands. "The chimeras are evolving. Or being evolved. Either way, what you're hunting isn't just a pair of monsters."
We shake hands formally. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Rossi."
"My pleasure." His eyes hold a warning as he adds, "I hope you find what you're looking for, Agent Mathieson. Before it finds you."
I watch him leave, my mind racing. Two chimeras working together, controlled by someone powerful enough to override their nature.
The door opens again, and Ghost enters. "That was interesting."
"More than interesting. Rossi just confirmed these chimeras likely aren't acting naturally."
"Sherlock's writing up his report now." Ghost glances at the notebook Rossi left. "Anything useful in that?"
"I'll need time to go through it." I pick up the notebook. "But I think we just got our first real lead in this case."
I'm getting closer to understanding what happened to my father. But as Rossi's warning echoes in my mind, I can't shake the feeling that I'm also being drawn into something much larger—and much more dangerous than a simple hunt.