Page 157 of The Other Side

“Threat from whom?” Osian asked.

Mikkel nodded, looking pleased that Osian had taken the bait. “A variety of possibilities. Children of supernaturals on this side are encouraged to hide their ability, to try and fit in with normal society. Some rebel against that and if they find others who feel the same, they sometimes band together. Individuals are easier to deal with than groups. And then there are those who wish to turn democracies into autocracies. Or worse.”

“You mean like packs of rogue werewolves or vampire covens?” Osian asked.

Mikkel nodded. He let his gaze drift between the two men. “There are those who look at humanity’s political fractures and see an open invitation. They believe our gifts give us a divine right to rule, rather than a responsibility to keep our power to ourselves.”

Osian frowned. “And these other sanctuaries? Are they under threat right now?”

“There are always threats,” Mikkel replied. “But nothing significant. We’ve always dealt with bad behaviour from individuals. But it’s time to unify the three sanctuaries into a modern, interconnected network. I’m envisioning a central council, secure communication lines, and a mobile, specialised rapid-response team—one capable of neutralising threats, hopefully before they ever reach a sanctuary’s borders.”

Drum swallowed hard, the weight of the proposal pressing down on his chest. He understood what Mikkel was looking for.

“And I need those who can go out and help both supernaturals and paranormal beings who are struggling.”

“Like you helped Kit?” Drum asked.

Mikkel nodded. “We don’t even know everything that’s out there. If you spend too much time figuring out what a creature is without boxing it in, it escapes or sometimes multiplies. If you try to kill it without knowing its rules, you usually just make it angry. There are gates between here and Faeryland. There shouldn’t be gates between here and hell, but…”

“You came through,” Osian said.

Mikkel nodded. He looked at Osian, then anchored his gaze on Drum. “What I want right now is a team of six. Drum, you understand police work, logistics, and tactics. Osian, you can identify the threat with help from me, know when something is protected by a spell, understand exactly what can and can’t be done. You’ll need a specialist who knows the vulnerabilities—whether it takes salt, iron, silver, or something more obscure to bring something down. I’ll act as the eye in the sky, handling real-time intelligence, the media, and local law enforcement. We’ll need to concoct plausible, mundane explanations to prevent public panic.”

“I’m panicking right now,” Drum whispered.

“I don’t expect you to be doing this full-time,” Mikkel reassured him smoothly. “It’s a contingency plan. We start small. Much of the work may well be diplomacy. But not all.”

A spark of thrill flared in Drum’s chest, but it was instantly dampened by the energy radiating from the man beside him. Osian wasn’t excited; he was vibrating with pure, defensive panic.

“No,” Osian snapped. “Drum can’t do this work. It’s too dangerous.” He turned fully to Drum, his eyes urgent. “You can’t come face-to-face with a rampaging werewolf and hope to survive. Not against that, and certainly not against black magic from the fae. I know you’re bored working here, but please—don’t say yes to this.”

Mikkel reached out, gently but firmly taking hold of Osian’s hand to anchor him. “Drum would have my protection, Osian. He’d be operating with some of my power. Enough to tackle almost anything. If more was required, I’d be there.”

Osian swallowed hard. “He’s human, mortal, fragile. And I…can’t lose him.”

For a heartbeat the room seemed to empty of everything except Osian’s hand caught in Mikkel’s and the raw fear on Osian’s face.

“I will ensure Drum is able to cope long before he needs to do anything. I’ve spent centuries learning what’s needed to survive.”

Osian’s laugh was bitter. “The answer is usually distance.”

“So your solution is to pretend none of this exists?” Drum asked.

“My solution is that you get to grow old.”

The conviction in his voice made Drum’s stomach twist.

“I’ve already been in dangerous situations,” Drum said.

“I know but these are monsters that could kill you in a heartbeat.” Osian stared at him without blinking.

“I liked being a protector,” Drum said quietly. “I joined the police to protect people. I wanted to stop people getting hurt. Finding out the killer has claws instead of a knife doesn’t change that.”

“It changes everything,” Osian insisted.

“It changes the tools.”

“It changes the odds.”