Ray paced outside the Field Unit, speaking on his cell phone.

"You drowned Jim's eagle?" Byron said. "That's like, treason, bro."

"Bald eagles can swim," Ray said.

"You lasted what, ten minutes before telling him everything?" Byron said.

"He gave me a load of crap about sacrifice, okay?" Ray said. "I'm not a good liar."

"That's funny," Byron said. "Because you said you wouldn't tell him anything, and I believed you."

"I had to push him to get information," Ray said.

"Fair enough," Byron said. "What did you get out of him?"

"He's working for some people," Ray said.

"Who?" Byron said.

"People that we don't want to mess with, apparently," Ray said. "Jim sounded afraid of them. Other than that, I don't know."

"Hold on, putting you on speaker," Byron said.

"Um, ok," Ray said. He heard a thunk as Byron set his phone down, followed by a slow clap.

"Fine intelligence work, Special Agent Lumley!" Byron said, in a vaguely British accent. "The Queen wants to give you a sloppy beej for saving England."

"At least we know he set the fires," Ray said, in a wounded tone.

"And he knows that we know," Byron said. "Which means we are screwed. Did you at least keep his glass so we can compare fingerprints?"

"I should have thought of that," Ray said. Byron's reply was a loud, mechanical whirring.

"What? I can't hear you." Ray said.

"I'm making a shake," Byron said. "You pissed me off so bad that I'm catabolic."

"I screwed up," Ray said. "But I swear I'll figure out a way to get this guy."

A breeze rustled the trees in the Field Unit's parking lot. Out of sight, a dog barked.

"I'm just messing with you," Byron said. "We'll figure it out. You need a ride?"

Ray looked down the road. "I'm good. Let me call you back."

He hung up the phone. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," Trivia said.

-

Jim's speakerphone was on. His hands were busy, one with an upside-down bald eagle bust and the other with crumpled, soggy paper towels. He shook the bust like a cocktail mixer, loosening a few more droplets of bourbon. The phone line clicked as someone picked up Jim's call. Jim dropped the paper towels and pressed the red button on the bust. Nothing happened.

"Come on, you bastard." Jim pressed the red button again.

"Pardon?" said the voice on the phone. The speaker's accent was American, but not Southern, and inhabited with an Old World superiority that made the speaker sound at least a generation older than Jim.

"That wasn't directed at you," Jim said. "Who is this?"

"Who do you think, Jim?" the voice said. "You called us. Now take us off speaker."

With trembling hand, Jim picked up the phone. "I don't recognize your voice."

"You may not recognize it next time," the voice said. "Now ask for our help."

"How do you know I need help?" Jim said.

"Knowing is our business." The voice was still and cool and dark as an underground sea. Jim peeked out his windows and closed the blinds.

"I'm not asking for me," Jim said. "This is for Tallahassee."

"That is generous of you," the voice said. "What shall we do for ourselves?"

"There's a man," Jim said. "Two men. They are interfering. I did what you asked, but they suspect."

The voice waited. Jim had not answered the question. He looked at his bookshelf, at the photograph of Hannah with her smile full of rainbow elastics. Jim had not paid for his daughter's braces; he was learning every day what they cost. He leaned back in his chair, rubbed his palms against his eyes, and took a deep breath.

"Send the Huntsman," Jim said. "For both of them."

"Granted. We have high hopes for you and your line," the voice said. Jim scowled. He hated when they called Hannah his "line."

"And the, uh, price?" Jim said.

"These men are your own people," the voice said.

It was not a question. Jim inhaled through his teeth, making a soft, hissing sound. His mother had taken him to the Grand Canyon when he was seven years old. He had been afraid to look down.

He closed his eyes. His stomach churned.

"We are satisfied," the voice said.

"Then I'll hear from the Huntsman?" Jim said, sounding more frantic than he'd intended.

"You will hear from 'a' huntsman," the voice said. "Not 'the' huntsman. A huntsman is much like a king. Do you understand?"

Jim understood. His understanding weighed on his brow like a crown of lead.

"Anyone can be replaced," Tallahassee said, in a voice that Jim would never hear again.

-

Ray and Trivia sat across from each other on a well-drained drainage ditch. Ray hugged his knees to his chest and resisted the urge to rock back and forth. Although Ray had heard Rex bark, he was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm an idiot," Ray said. "Jim knows that I know he set the fires. And you knew all along."

Trivia patted him on the shoulder. "I did."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ray said.

"Because I want to protect you." Trivia interlaced her fingers with his and pulled him to his feet. "And because the fires are the least of his sins. But I'm glad you understand."

She led him perpendicular to the road, towards a wall of tall pines and a game trail that Ray had never seen before.

"Where are we going?" Ray said.

"You're in danger, now that Frazer knows that you know," Trivia said. "I'll take you somewhere safe."

"Should I hold on tight?" Ray said, giving Trivia's hand a squeeze.

"Yes," Trivia said, squeezing his hand.

"I mean, are we going to go fast like before?" Ray said.

Trivia shook her head. "We have some time before my friends arrive."

"Your friends?" Ray said.

"You will meet them soon," Trivia said.

They walked a meandering path of pine needles and oak leaves between tall trunks. Ray heard shuffling in the shrubs around them and saw movement. Moonlight glinted off a pair of eyes, startling him.

"It's a raccoon," Trivia said. "Don't be frightened."

Ray said, "I'm not."

Another pair of eyes joined the first, and Ray thought he could make out a fox's silhouette. The full moon slipped out from behind a dark grey cloud.

"I thought it was a new moon," Ray said.

"Not where we are going," Trivia said.

A possum stepped out of the brush and kept pace with Ray and Trivia. Soon the raccoon from before, a pair of armadillos, and, improbably, a grey heron joined the procession. Moonlight reflected from more sets of eyes that belonged to birds on the branches and beasts on the forest floor.

"You're popular," Ray said. "Are these your friends?"

"No," Trivia said. "These are just animals."

"Huh?" Ray said. She squeezed his hand in reply.

A large cat, nearly three feet tall at the shoulder, stepped out in front of Ray and Trivia. The cat had a sleek, tan coat, a white belly, and large yellow eyes. Ray froze.

"It's so cute when you do that," Trivia said.

"That's a Florida panther," Ray said. The panther paced back and forth in front of them. Panthers eat deer, he thought.

"That's right," Trivia said.

"Florida panthers don't live in north Florida," Ray said.

"That's right," Trivia scratched the panther's ears and led Ray past it. The panther nipped Ray's calf through his pants. Ray yelped. The panther joined the procession, as did a trio of rats and a coyote who held a box turtle gently in its jaws. The branches overhead were thick with birds.

"This is crazy," Ray said. "Where are we?"

"Somewhere safe," Trivia said. "But it won't be safe if Frazer has his way."

"I want to stop him," Ray said. "Byron does too. But we don't have enough evidence to go over his head. He has friends in the police department and at the Bureau. Sometimes it seems like he has friends everywhere. "

"Just worry about staying safe," Trivia said. "I have friends, too. We stopped the king before him."

"The king?" Ray said. "You mean the guy who ran the Field Unit before Frazer? Joe Porter?"

Trivia said, "He blighted, as all kings must."

"Byron said Porter had an accident," Ray said, frowning. "He ran into a telephone pole."

Trivia shook her head. "A tall, strong tree."