Damien's POV
I'd just settled in at my desk, ready to start my usual day of detective work and dodging social interactions, when I got a tap on my shoulder. "Hey, Damien, Chief wants to see you in his office," one of the rookies said, looking about as nervous as a cat in a dog park.
"Is this about last week's paperwork? Because if it is, tell him I mysteriously disappeared."
The rookie's face turned to panic, but I gave him a pat on the back. "Relax, I'm kidding." Sort of.
I headed down the hall and into Adam's office, expecting some minor annoyance—a memo, maybe a "friendly reminder" to attend the next department meeting. But Adam's face told me I was in for something worse.
"Damien, glad you could make it," he said, that sly grin tugging at his lips.
I slouched into the chair, giving him my best I'm-not-impressed look. "Please tell me you didn't call me in here for a motivational speech."
"Not quite. It's more of an…assignment update."
An uneasy feeling settled in my gut. "All right, out with it. What's the catch?"
He sat back, folding his hands, his smirk widening. "Damien, you've been assigned a new partner."
My stomach dropped. "You're joking, right? Because I don't do 'partners,' remember?"
Adam shrugged, clearly enjoying this. "My hands are tied. There's a case—River's investigating it. It's a big one. Some high-profile guy just lost his daughter, and he's breathing down our necks. The higher-ups don't think River can manage it alone, so they thought you'd be a good fit."
I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "Adam, you know why I work alone. It's hard enough juggling cases and handling my…uh, other work on the side. You put someone at my elbow, and things get complicated."
Adam gave me a sympathetic nod, but I could tell he wasn't budging. "I know, but this one's above my pay grade. All you have to do is help River close this case, and you'll be back to your brooding, lone-wolf self."
"River?" I muttered, frowning. "What kind of a name is that?"
"Trust me, you'll meet soon enough," he said, his grin shifting to something almost devious. "Oh, and look—speak of the devil."
I turned around, not sure what I was expecting, but it sure wasn't the woman who stepped through the door. Tall, sharp gaze, no-nonsense vibe. She looked like she'd walked straight out of some crime drama show, except she didn't have that fake, overacted cop scowl.
She extended a hand. "Hi, I'm River. Looking forward to working with you."
I looked down at her hand, then back up, not moving a muscle. "Well, that makes one of us."
She didn't flinch, just raised an eyebrow. I could already feel her trying to size me up, and she probably thought I was some hard-bitten detective with a tragic backstory. I'd correct her—if I had the patience.
Adam coughed, suppressing a chuckle. "Don't worry, River. He'll warm up to you. Eventually. Or not. He's just…not the best with people. Or animals. Or most living things, actually."
River chuckled, then left Adam's office, giving me a look that told me she wasn't intimidated. Just perfect.
Adam folded his arms, giving me a smug look. "You're going to be fine."
"I'll remember this betrayal," I said dryly.
---
After a brief rundown on the case, I reluctantly followed River to start our "investigation." The victim had been a woman in her twenties, found dead in her apartment. Apparently, her father was a very important man with a very bad temper, and he was determined to have justice—or, at the very least, a scapegoat.
River briefed me on the suspects as we headed to the first location. She had that tone of a detective who'd done her homework. Organized. Professional. Boring.
"So, I was thinking we should start by questioning the victim's ex-boyfriend. They had a rough breakup a month ago," she suggested, glancing at me to see if I'd chime in.
I shrugged. "Sure, let's go interrogate the heartbreak."
The ex-boyfriend, predictably, was a disaster. After about ten minutes of his rambling about how she was the love of his life, I threw River a look that said, "Is this guy serious?" She didn't crack a smile, just took notes and nodded along. Clearly, this "partnership" was going to be a riot.
After a few more rounds of questioning suspects—each one more dead-end than the last—we ended up with one potential lead: the bar where the victim worked. So we headed there to dig up any information that might actually be useful.
---
The bar was quiet when we arrived, just a few stragglers finishing their last drinks. River went off to talk to the bartender, and I scoped out the place. And then I saw it—a small, shifty little thing hovering near the corner.
A pixie.
I did my best to look casual, but pixies aren't exactly subtle. They're more like mischievous gnats with wings and a lot of attitude, and they don't belong in a human establishment. This one looked like it was already up to something, zipping around people's heads, whispering nonsense in their ears.
I gritted my teeth, trying to keep it cool as River came back over. "So, the bartender says—"
"Excuse me," I muttered, stepping past her and toward the pixie.
The pixie zipped toward a guy at the end of the bar, who immediately started giggling to himself. Great. The thing was already stirring up trouble. I lunged for it, but it darted out of my reach, buzzing around my head like some kind of twisted fairy tale gone wrong.
"Damien?" River's voice held an edge of confusion as I swiped at the air. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing. Just…exercising," I said, trying to look nonchalant as I tracked the pixie's path. "You keep talking to people. I'll, uh, catch up."
River shot me a look like she was rethinking this whole partnership, but thankfully she went back to questioning the staff. Meanwhile, I was stalking a winged pest across the bar, ducking around tables and nearly knocking over a barstool in the process.
Finally, with one swift grab, I caught the pixie. It squirmed in my hand, muttering curses in a language I didn't care to decipher. I pulled an empty jar from my bag, stuffed the thing inside, and screwed the lid tight. It beat its wings against the glass, its tiny face glaring at me.
"Gotcha, you little menace," I muttered, shoving the jar into my bag.
By the time I'd contained the situation, half the bar was staring, and River looked like she was seriously debating if she'd been assigned to work with a lunatic.
"Everything all right there, Damien?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as I walked back over.
I shrugged, deadpan. "Nothing to see here."
Unfortunately, the commotion had scattered the bar's staff, most of whom were already grabbing their coats and heading out the door. River sighed, realizing our chance to question them had vanished.
"Guess that's all we'll get for tonight," I said, not particularly disappointed. I was tired, and River looked like she was about to grill me on my…antics.
She sighed, brushing a strand of hair back. "Fine. Tomorrow, then?"
"Tomorrow," I agreed, already heading for the exit.
As we stepped outside, I caught her giving me a sideways look, like she was still trying to figure out just what my deal was. Good luck with that, I thought, smirking to myself.
And thus began the partnership of the century.