Hunted|Haunted - Chapter 9 - Zodiac Killer, is this you?

Nexialist prided himself on his skill in finding a lot of various information, some of which was public, most of which was private, all of which was either too morally ambiguous or illegal to share or collect. He knew a lot. From where a certain car has been on February 32nd, 12:61 AM, to whether or not there was a secret nazi base on the dark side of the Moon. And what he didn't know, he knew who he would need to ask. And, what was more important, he was willing to share what he learned for a humble price. So, when he was tasked with finding Toma’s father, he, despite knowing that it's highly unlikely for a person to be alive after this much time missing, didn't think there’d be anything complicated. Either somebody knew where this Krsto went, or somebody had seen the corpse.

What Nex didn't anticipate was the dead end that was Krsto Pathfinder.

The witch he was looking for either was twice as much of a conman as Nexialist thought initially, or was a very, very private person. Or both. There was very little information on him. Only twenty years of various data. Which wasn't a particularly small number of years for a human, but it didn't add up to what Nex knew about witches. His contacts' reactions also hinted that something weird was going on with this Pathfinder guy. And after studying what he gathered, Nexialist couldn't agree more.

Twenty years of data. Krsto Pathfinder mysteriously appears. Studies at Dragnawing III's. Breaks a leg. Gets a passport. Marries. Has children. Dislocates 2 fingers. Writes a bunch of random articles, mostly in magazines for bored, middle-aged women. Krsto Pathfinder disappears. Without any government mole having the slightest hint as to where.

What's more puzzling, apparently, the government was more interested in finding him than his own family, as he was mentioned in the “wanted” list, rather than the missing persons list. And even then, the wanted list is from 8 years ago.

At least this brought Nex to his next stop. Police records. And oh boy, were there things to look at. Apparently, Krsto Pathfinder was wanted for multiple accounts of “petty crime”, “theft”, “public intoxication”, “loitering”, “breach of peace”, “vagrancy”, “disorderly conduct”, “negligent use of a broom”, “unauthorised teleportation circles”, “attempt at contracting with a demonic force”, “attempt at summoning a demonic force”, “level 3 casting without a licence”, “offence against a person”, “destruction of public property”, “enchantment of public property”, “misuse of artefacts”, “possession of unregistered artefacts”, “reckless use of magick”, “trespassing on government property”, “trespassing on private property”, “spacial breach”, “cruelty to animals”, “public nuisance”, “arson” and “resisting arrest”. Quite a list, and Nex didn't even know half of those were “a thing”, let alone a punishable offence. His own list paled in length, actually. Well, a list of known crimes, that was.

— Damn, you sure you want this guy found?
— I did mention he was an idiot, didn't I?

The sudden sight of the bloodstained ghost right over his shoulder made Nex shout multiple yet unknown obscenities and fall from his chair. That was met with shushing from Neven's side.

— Kid is finally asleep, you don't want to be one to try and lull him back, do you?
— Constructor’s undies, don't sneak up on me like that! — Nexialist hissed as an answer, although more surprised than actually angry.
To which the ghost pointed at the toy, firmly held by Toma, as if he were a squirrel on a falling tree during a storm.
— Can't exactly make footsteps without that. So, any luck on your hunt?

Nex sighed. Then, finally sat up from where he’d fallen on the floor, dusting off his hoodie.

— Have I told you that your guy is the weird kind of weird? — He sat back on the chair and gestured at the quickly-jotted notes in the sketchbook, some photos on the screen of the computer and a printed copy of the police record. — How does a witch exist only for twenty years without any decent explanation for the feds to come up with? Literally no agency knows where did your Cotton-Eye Joe came from, or where did he go.
A ghostly cigarette appeared between his teeth.
— Want to see a fun little trick? Try looking up “Neven Lowac”.

And there it fucking was, a single report from 1941, “A male witch, who called himself “Neven Lowac”, was found near the military warehouse №6. The subject had no identification on him. The subject was not found in any lists. The subject disappeared from the cell before an interrogation could be conducted.”

— … What.
— I got in quite a lot of trouble for that one. Aano had to replace some of my ribs. Point is, the… Commune, let's put it that way, isn't exactly public. And Krsto, being “runt of the litter” in our father's words, got out. Not just him, though. Many houses have cover-up businesses. Like the Tragač, for example.

Huh.

— So, you’re saying, you and your guy were part of some kind of cult. — Nex started tapping the table absentmindedly, softly drumming some kind of melody that nobody else, including him, knew where it came from. — Should have led with that, really…
— I would, but Toma’s mother forbade me from letting him find out any part of that. The kid doesn't even know my name. But since he's asleep… — The cigarette's light flickers. — I can be more open.
— Not a thief if you didn't get caught. I get it. — Nexialist raised his hands in a placating gesture, then pointed to the police record, slightly tilting his head. — Which, by the way. I'm surprised how many times this Krsto was spotted. Don't know what I expected, but for a con, who doesn't want to pay child support, that's a surprisingly high number of things being wanted for.
— Knowing the background, I'd say he wasn't exactly sober during most of those. Though maybe he wanted to be caught, you can never know with that one. Or, which is also likely, new security measures were implemented, or the police started to employ savtktani, or some other, equally logical, explanation. On that topic, are the red dogs considered people yet? Wouldn't want the kid to get in trouble if he meets one.
— Wait, you guys don't consider them people?
— The last time I contacted the public, they weren't. But keep in mind, that was what, 50 years ago? Whenever that report was written.
— And here I thought everyone was equal at war… Well, these days they of course are people, and they will kick your ass if you say otherwise. Although I don't really know how much that applies to you.
— Hah, Toma's mother will find at least 76 different ways to cause me unbearable pain if he as much as scrapes his knees on my watch.
— Then you might want to not pretend that there's no life across the Channel… Speaking of the kid's mother. — Nex decided to ask more questions about his weird clients. — She doesn't know where this Krsto went either, yes?
— Nope.
— Suspected as much. — Nexialist let out a jittery laugh. — I had half a mind to find her address and write a telegram real quick.
— Ha-ha, but no, I'm the least technologically advanced in this family. And I'm pretty sure her hearse is about halfway here anyway. The toy is tracked.
— Oh for fuck's sake. — Now that went from the world of “mildly dangerous” to “holy fucking shit” faster than the speed of light. Nex didn’t like one bit the possibility of the unknown mum with a murder list to get his location. So, he asked, trying to gauge the extent of the actual potential threat. — How big is the amount of trouble we’re looking at?
— Relax, she'll pay you if anything. You kept the kid safe while she was on the way. Me? Straight up to Hell. Kid? Grounded until he marries.
— And there goes the case and the payment… — Nex felt relieved a bit, at least he wasn’t the main target of the murder-mum, but it definitely sucked that such a deliciously-paying job was trying to get away from him – if this Neven wasn’t lying, there was more where those coins came from, and Nex wanted to get his hands on the rest. — Sometimes my luck sucks ass, it seems.
— Hey, I'm still going to pay for the work done. If he disappeared from the face of the earth, that's none of your fault.
— Well, the objective was to find him, not find “something about him”. — Nex liked the prospect of being paid regardless, don’t get him wrong. But he was a man of standards and his words. — Also, it’s kinda interesting, actually.
— I thought of something, can you look up on the map where he was caught?

It's about time Nexialist abandoned the feelings of shock and bamboozlement altogether. The reports lead in an almost straight line southeast through the country, in about equal intervals.
— Probably slept during the day and walked at night.
— But why… that direction?
— Krsto studied plenty of ancient wikkon temples. There was a system to how they were built, and if he figured it out, he might be looking for one this way.
— Oh. Now we’re going to need a mage-archaeologist for this. — Nex scratched his face under the balaclava, thinking. This was a bit outside his field of expertise. He was many things, but a mage and an archaeologist wasn’t one of them. Nor was it any combination of these two.
— And here it goes again to looking for Harvey Tragač
— That’s gotta be easier than it sounds. — Oh. Right. Back to the task he knows and likes and does daily – finding people. By the way, the surname “Tragač” wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to Nex. — All the Tragač survive off their job. If this one isn’t that much different, I think we’ll find him in a couple of days tops… But I gotta call Bond for this one.
— Or, we could employ one Tragač to look for the other. You know my name, that'll land you a discount at the very least.
— Didn’t you say that the other Tragač didn’t want to do anything with Harvey?
— Their principles are for sale.
— Ah. Good thing that something never changes.
— Pretty sure if you say we're looking for him to tear him into equally sized pieces, they will pay you.
— Woah. — That seemed to get Nexialist thinking for a second, it seemed. Because after a momentary silence, he asked. — We’re not looking to tear him into slices, though, do we?
— No, but the Tragač were paying me for trying.
— Sounds promising. — Nex nodded, outlining the plan for himself for the next few hours. — Fine, we need them regardless, so I’ll go dig out the contacts. Biggest info-broking family on the black market, beware! — Then asked, looking at his ghastly client again. — Approximately how much time do we have before Toma’s mom gets here and sends you to whatever afterlife you came from?
— About 19 hours, methinks.
— Then hopefully I can get you out of trouble at least for the reason that I need you yet. — Nex tsked, not quite satisfied with an answer. — Because I doubt that we will get that far in less than a day… Also I suppose I’ll need to go buy some better tea. Maybe that’ll get her down from “straight-up berserk” to “murderous”.