Many, though by no means all, Urban Fantasylands are occluded from the public eye; the monsters who dwell in them want privacy, or magic inexplicably causes extreme skepticism in those who witness it, even those who’d otherwise believe in, for example, angels and UFOs.

Some are hidden by convention; almost everyone knows someone who knows someone that’s a wizard, or has a bigfoot in the family tree somewhere. But it’s simply not talked about by social convention; you don’t introduce someone to your witch the same way you don’t introduce them to your drug dealer.

Others are quite literally invisible; these are the sorts of Urban Fantasylands that are hidden in liminal spaces, in dimensions that are not quite fully alternate. These are your Borderlands, your Goblin Markets, your Middlemarches and so on. Presumably, given the rate of new arrivals accidentally stumbling through the entrance, it’s only a secret because most people who go there don’t return.

-Quote from an internally circulated employee email at Mystery Play LLC, presumably not for public consumption.

The police weren’t the actual Neighborhood PD, of course; that’s why the director had direct control of them. They were a bunch of extras brought in for the Mystery Play. They took our statements, acted appropriately dubiously to my statement as to why I was there, with one of them leering a bit too obviously at Moira in her current state of dress, and asked me to come downtown for a few more questions. Moira got back into character, almost immediately.

“I’ll have the family lawyer meet you at the station, Mr. Criss. She’d fallen back into last names and formality thanks to the way the cops were implying we’d actually done something. It might have been a bit too late for that, but it was a valiant try.

But really, I wanted to go to the station- I needed the glamour renewed. I could feel it starting to fray, and Lawson would need a look at the bullet that got used in case there was anything particular about it. So into the back of the car I went.

The drive was short, with one of the cops trying to make conversation that sounded innocent enough, but was actually fishing to try and get me to say something incriminating without a lawyer. I wasn’t even under arrest, but cops, even pretend Mystery Play cops, will be cops.

I wound up not in an interrogation room, but the crime lab, with Lawson there, having shed his wizard’s robes for a lab coat. He hadn’t actually gotten rid of the enormous beard, though, which I was pretty sure wasn’t regulation. I handed over the bullet that had hit me, and noted that Lorraine had already dropped off the rifle and was leaning up against the wall. She was in her working clothes, not in costume- something that looked like biker leathers but was probably enchanted armor.

Lawson rubbed his hands together, then snapped on a pair of gloves. “So let’s see if there’s anything we can work with from all this evidence they handed us.”

The rifle got dusted for prints- all Lorraine’s from when she’d picked it up, by the looks of things, including on the trigger.

I asked, “Did you try to shoot him with his own gun?”

“He pissed me off,” she answered.

After that, Lawson started taking it apart, muttering. “Interesting. No serial numbers or identifying marks on any of the pieces. Not even file marks where they used to be. Either there’s a manufacturer flagrantly violating legal requirements, or it’s a custom job, from machining the individual components on down. The Rinconete have used similar things in the past, so their involvement is looking more likely. I’ve heard they’ve got some sort of wizard-smith working for them that specializes in firearms, but I always assumed it was just a rumor.”

I eyed the disassembled rifle. “Wizard-smith? So that thing is magic?”

“No, but...yes, the bullets are.” He picked up the flattened round that I’d been hit with.

“Not magic enough. It didn’t even get through my skin.”

“If it had you probably wouldn’t be here talking with us. They’ve got a curse on them. Nasty little thing. Once they’re inside you, they start navigating towards the heart and explode.” I was used to Lawson saying things like that with a straight face.

I looked at Lorraine again. “So, uh, did you hit the guy? We may need to start looking for a body. In which case, mission accomplished.”

Lorraine shook her head. “Not sure. It’d be nice, but as soon as I reached him he activated his Gyges toy and got away. I think it’s a motorcycle helmet, if that helps, Lawson.”

“That...actually does. If it’s a Tarnhelm style device it might not just be for turning invisible- it could explain being able to copy one of our custom glamours-” he waved a hand at me, “and how he gets into places so easily. More powerful Tarnhelm can actually be used to teleport at short ranges.”

I scratched my chin. “That also means that maybe we can make it a lot harder for him to hide if we break the thing, I hope. What are the traditional methods of dealing with a Tarnhelm, are there any?”

“Just hitting it repeatedly will be fine, they don’t require any fancy destruction methods. The one wearing it may also show up as themselves in a mirror even when invisible or shapeshifted.”

“Good to know, if he ever stops doing long ranged attacks. Though..huh.” Something was bothering me, and it took a moment to realize what it was. “He came right up to Carrefour when he killed him the first time, right? So why has he been sticking to invisibility and bombings since?”

Lawson nodded. “Maybe he’s afraid of the undead? It’s possible he knows he managed to kill my cousin, only for his victim to rise from the grave as some sort of vengeful spirit. Wouldn’t even be the first time. Our Nan was a lich for 30 years before anyone caught on.”

Lorraine stood up from the wall, and stretched. “We can find that out when we catch him. I’ll even promise not to eat him so he can satisfy your curiosity first, if you like.”

I just looked at her. “See, when you say things like that, it makes it harder to believe that you’re just joking about eating people.”

Lorraine just smiled serenely.

I decided it would be best not to rise to the bait, and looked back to Lawson, “So we’ve got burrowing bullets, a tarnhelm- which covers most of what we thought he could do magically, from what you’ve said- and some sort of wand loded with a death ray spell. The guy came loaded for bear for just killing one guy with no chin and too many first cousins in his family tree.”

Lawson frowned, and I thought maybe I’d stepped over a line, but then it turned into a smirk. “Don’t be silly, they only allow second cousins to marry in the Carrefours, at most.”

“Right, too many second cousins in his family tree, sorry.”

“Forgiven.” Lawson waved a hand. “The old magic families don’t just have a reputation for being magically potent, they generally all are- most spells aren’t hindered by not having a chin. There’s a reason why throwing themselves into the sort of danger a mystery play represents is such a popular pastime, after all.”

I was still a little incredulous, just based on what I’d seen of the man, which was admittedly mostly the dossier and seeing his dead body with a hole burned through the head. “So your cousin was the sort of magical heavyweight that’d actually require all this stuff?”

Lawson shrugged. “I haven’t actually talked to him in decades, but he did usually at least place in all the old tournaments the elders would arrange for the kids.”

“The fact that the old families arrange bloodsport matches for their children is fascinating to learn and also horrible, but good to know. Any thoughts on what else they might have grabbed to bring him down? Anything that’d also work on me, or at least that I’d need to watch out for?”

Probably just the usual suite of combat enhancement spells everyone uses. Improving reflexes, physical strength, that sort of thing.” Lawson eyed both me and Lorraine. “Well, almost everyone. They can only do so much when you’re already as far above the baseline as the two of you.”

“Granny never did much go in for that- she just cursed people until they couldn’t fight her.”

“I always did want to meet your grandmother,” remarked Lorraine, “But I never had the chance.”

“Huh? You can always go meet her if you want, but she’s been in her little cottage working on her microbrewery franchise for the last 5-10 years.”

Lorraine stared at me. “You always talk about her in the past tense.”

I shrugged. “It’s been that long since I saw her last. And anyway, it’s not like she’s very sociable. Well, except for her fans on her cooking blog, though.”

It was Lawson’s turn to stare at me. “Your grandmother, the old witch of the ironwood, has a cooking blog.”

“Yeah, it’s mostly just her rambling about how in the old days she got a better class of heroes coming up to challenge her rule over her dark domain and then she posts a recipe about how to prepare a meal by dressing it in full plate armor and then dumping hot oil over it from 3 stories up while it’s mounted on a siege ladder. Though she always includes a disclaimer that these days you have to use pigs instead of heroes so she doesn’t get in trouble with her hosting service.”

Lorraine looked very intent. “What’s the blog name, anyway, I need some new recipe ideas.”

“...I think we’re all getting distracted. So. Lawson. Don’t suppose looking at all this guy’s stuff gave you any idea who may have made it? I mean, no offense, but a lot of artificer types have egos and sign their work.”

Lawson shook his head, frowning. “Not in the slightest. Which may just mean he’s someone from outside the old magic families. Maybe raised up directly in the Rinconete? Perhaps he never picked up the bad habits of the rest of us.”

“Possible,” I looked to Lorraine, “You’ll be able to track the guy when he turns up again, right? I really want a word with him before we turn him over. Maybe paragraphs.”

She nodded, and Lawson stripped his gloves. “I think we’ve learned everything we can from this for now, anyway. Everyone should get some rest; the boss is running that staff meeting in morning for all the main cast.

I groaned. “I am going to owe so many apologies after that.”

With that, we broke for the night, and I headed back to the temporary office, where a dead man had been a little over a day ago.