Book 2 in the Detective Lynx Wu urban fantasy series – COMING SOON IN 2025!
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WHEN THE GOLD WEEPS combines the good people making bad decisions trope and sibling relationship of Arcane, the noir vibes of Altered Carbon, and grounded magic found in Dresden Files but make it all Chinese.
Fox Wu has magic that lets him see the future. Only problem is, the future presents itself in a fickle, ever-changing kaleidoscope that has no practical use—until one day he sees a vision of his brother, Detective Lynx, held hostage by a serial killer dubbed Midas, who has been turning cops into gold statues one by one.
Clues lead Detective Lynx to believe Midas is targeting crooked cops with the rot leading right to the Chief of Police, and he does not have time to also babysit his younger brother turned amateur sleuth. Fox’s visions are unreliable at best and he’s way out of his depth—the last thing Lynx wants is for his brother to become a target.
Fox knows his vision is true, but street smarts aren’t everything—the killer is closing in. Fox’s antics might just be the opportunity Midas needs to turn one more cop into gold…
Read Chapter 1 below!
Content Warning: elements of body horror (not in sample)
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When the Gold Weeps
Chapter 1
A Friday night at nine fifteen and not only was Lynx Wu living on five hours’ sleep and no coffee, but he had the pleasure of running through evidence on a missing person’s case. Daniel Sully’s, specifically, a 26-year-old male last seen on his way home with no evidence he ever arrived. Lynx’s car cruised on autodrive as he stared at the windscreen, which had been converted into a giant monitor. His boss was making him close the case, but they hadn’t found Daniel Sully.
And Lynx wasn’t ready to give up.
“Chan,” he said to the car’s A.I., “Next image.”
Chan responded, in his standard bot’s male voice, “Date stamp: 31st October 2531.” It was like a bloody news presenter. 50% of his life was staring at case details, and the other 50%? Listening to Chan bot drone on about them. Wasn’t life just grand. “Description: Daniel Sully’s bedroom. Time stamp: 18.23.”
The new image flashed across the windscreen. A lump lodged in Lynx’s throat as he studied it: dirty clothes strewn on the floor, VR glasses on the desk, weights on the shelf. It could have been his brother’s room. Could have been his brother who was gone—they were the same age. Lynx shook his head. C’mon. This was Daniel’s room, not his brother’s. Daniel’s clothes. A lot of Harlan Banks shirts, their logo appearing everywhere like golden dust motes now he was paying attention, as if there was a clue in there. Somewhere.
His car slowed as traffic thickened. Lynx rolled his head back, bracing himself for a night that wasn’t getting any shorter. Sliding floodlights passed over Big Ben’s green-lit spire, an ever-present reminder of the chemical green rains. Tonight, the pale mint glow indicated clear skies.
Lynx rubbed the back of his neck, nervous at the thought of the rains. Biomods were commonplace, just another thing added to the arsenal of mandatory vaccines and prescriptions taken as a given. You’d think someone would have found the solution to their climate catastrophe with both the existence of magic and advanced technology. Instead, they had public sensors and respiratory modifications.
Westminster Bridge stretched ahead, a leap of dark parapets and sparkling light over the moonlit River Thames. Something moved between the vehicles. A smile twitched on his lips when he saw it: a mouse-sized car, shrunk with the telltale sign of magic—an aura that only he could see with his second sight—getting ahead of the jam. While he was stuck on Great George Street. Splendid.
He glanced up at a holographic advert of a bendy young woman drinking sparkling blue magic from a glass and diving without any gear. Scuba diving made light: magic will take care of the breathing! Dive among the corals without cumbersome oxygen tanks when booking a holiday with Winsort Reef Tours! Lynx squeezed his forehead as though that might help his pounding headache. Everything was so damn bright.
He was about to get back to Daniel Sully’s files when he heard his brother’s voice.
“Hey, that’s mine!”
Lynx whipped around, looking for his brother, Fox, and saw him about fifty metres ahead in front of an English pub with a snazzy cast iron sign. A big guy with gelled, spiky hair stood with his fists clenched, holding something that glinted in the pub’s strobing lights. A nasty smirk split his face.
What did Fox get himself into this time?
Fox lunged for Spikes’ upheld fist and got shoved to the ground.
Lynx really didn’t want to get into this. He had enough to worry about without also dealing with a thug who’d love the opportunity to pound an officer to a pulp.
Though, right now, the one about to be pulverised was Fox. With a sigh, he stepped out of the car.
“What appears to be the problem, gentleman?” Lynx asked, his words making Spikes stand back.
Fox climbed onto his knees. Bruised, terrified, but unharmed. Thank God.
Spikes grinned. “Another Chinaman? Who’s this, your brother?”
Oh irony.
Lynx flashed his badge, one of few things that hadn’t been digitised. Intricate metalwork stamped with biometric data would always be harder to fake. “Fancy telling me what you were doing?”
Fox butted in—like always: “Nothing happened.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his fist.
Spikes’ grin widened. “Exactly. So why don’t you run along, Officer?”
Why couldn’t Fox just let him do his job? Lynx said, “Why don’t you give him back whatever it was and we call it a day? Or I could haul your sorry arse to jail.”
Spikes reddened, baring teeth. “For what?”
“Assault.” Lynx indicated the black drones hovering above the pub’s door. “All recorded. But it’s a Friday night and I really don’t need this. So, do us both a favour. Hand that over and I’ll pretend you’re a model citizen.”
Rage charged the air between them for all of two seconds before Spikes tossed the thing to the ground. “This ain’t worth my time.”
Lynx watched him leave and waited till he was out of sight before picking up the thing that started it all. A gold button—neither antique nor a costume accessory. An image of twin snakes wrapped around an anchor glinted.
A Harlan Banks button, Daniel Sully’s favourite brand, made of solid gold. He frowned. “Where did you get this?”
“A hello would be nice,” Fox said with a smile.
Lynx was not amused. “I just saved you from a good pounding. A thank you would also be nice. Are you all right?”
“Still standing, aren’t I? Had it under control.”
“Right. Of course you did,” Lynx sighed, turning back to the shirt button. Why would a company produce this in solid gold? A ridiculous investment. It wouldn’t fetch enough to be worth selling anywhere. Something wasn’t right.
He switched on his second sight. A magical aura dark as vintage gold flared around the button. Alchemy. His heart pounded. “Tell me where you got this.”
“Guy wasn’t lying. It really was his, until I won it off him in poker just now. He couldn’t deal with losing. Ain’t my fault,” Fox said, seeing the look on Lynx’s face. “Now can I have that back please? I was gonna pawn that.”
He was probably grasping at straws to think just because it was a shirt button from Daniel Sully’s favourite brand that it must somehow be related. He could almost see his boss shaking his head. Didn’t know when to give up. But a shirt button made of gold was too strange to let go—even if the brand was doing a marketing campaign it would be way overboard. Something in his gut couldn’t let it go.
“How many did the guy have on him?”
“Just the one. My button, please?”
One. Lynx would have thought there should be more. For sure Spikes would have brought more out for a night of gambling. “If you need money, I can lend you some. But I’d like to keep the button for now.”
Fox gaped. “Aren’t you always saying how I should get my act together? Now I’m gonna make some money off something that’s mine and you’re just gonna take it?”
“How much would it have fetched? Fox, you’d drink this away in the space of an hour!” Oh, what’s the point? “I’m not doing it to piss you off. I just want to double check something on this button.”
“Is it related to a case?”
“Could be,” Lynx replied, his thoughts already halfway back to the case. “If it turns out to be unrelated, I’ll give it back and you can do whatever you want with it. Promise.”
“My luck just gets better and better huh.”
A pang of guilt hit Lynx. His brother had already had rotten enough luck without him rubbing it in. “Where’re you off to? I can give you a ride.”
“Off to work, though considering the traffic, I’m not sure you driving is faster than me taking the tube.”
“So, you want a ride or not?”
Fox grinned. “And miss this rare occasion to actually talk to you? Where’s your car?”
Lynx indicated the blinking vehicle down the road. “You still working at that bar? Does that mean they want you full-time?” That would be terrific news if his brother had finally got something stable.
“No contract yet, and I don’t think they’re gonna give me one. Doesn’t mean I’m not full-time though. And before you go off on one, I know it’s not legal what they’re doing, but it’s either work on no contract or have no work at all. You gotta pick your battles.”
Being an officer, it was ten times worse knowing his brother was being paid under the table without any job security, not to mention taxes or a pension. Fox was young, but what about ten, twenty years down the line? For the thousandth time, he wondered about recommending Fox to join patrol at his station. Drive around and monitor traffic—it was steady, safe work. But Lynx wasn’t sure if Fox would actually stay safe.
“What about a desk job at my station?” Lynx asked. The receptionist was already covering everyone else’s shifts. She sure could use an extra.
“I don’t need your pity.”
Lynx thinned his lips. “Well, then maybe keep looking.”
“Oh leave me alone. Tell me how a random gold button could be related to your case?”
“No.”
“C’mon, maybe all you need is a different perspective. You know, stop always looking at things one way, find a fresh angle. I can help!”
“It’s all confidential, and you’re not trained for this.”
Fox crossed his arms as they got to Lynx’s car. “Don’t think I have anything to offer? We could bounce ideas. What would you know about what drives people to doing crime?”
“Excuse me?”
“Okay, that was phrased badly. I’m just saying, someone like me might bring some insight you could use.”
Lynx really wasn’t in the mood. “How’s Mum and Dad?” he asked, joining the sluggish traffic.
“You’d know if you visited once in a while.”
Lynx saw gold in the glint of traffic. There was an answer there somewhere lighting its way all the way back to Daniel Sully. First, he had to trace the button back to its original owner, and that started with Fox.
“You’re not even listening, are you?”
It could have been Fox missing rather than Daniel. “What? I don’t have time to come home all the time.”
“Hey, Lynx, I’m gonna be late if you don’t speed up.”
Lynx gestured at the congestion before them. “What would you have me do? Crash?”
“No, moron. Use your siren. There’s gotta be perks to being an officer?”
Because that was why he became an officer, of course, for all the corners he could cut. He wouldn’t put it past Fox to do exactly that, trim past so many corners the law book became a circle. “No.”
Fox put his hands behind his head as he leaned back with a sigh. “Great. Why did fate have to give me a killjoy of a brother? Would it hurt for you to take a suggestion for once?”
Like Fox would ever understand what it meant to be responsible. “If you hadn’t been busy playing poker and getting yourself beaten up, you might have got there on time yourself.”
Fox chuckled. “Chill, Lynx. Come into work with me. Drink’s on me.”
Trying to charm him back, as always. He glanced at the bird figurine hanging on the rearview mirror: a gift from Fox from years ago. It was a cardinal revving a guitar, about as far from what he would have picked for himself as possible. Charm had always been Fox’s thing, not his.
“Go on. You know you wanna.”
Lynx rolled his eyes, though he smiled. A drink didn’t sound so bad. “Just one.”
His boss had warned him not to go down the rabbit hole. Told him to go home, relax, have a life for a change. Daniel Sully was likely dead and finding his body was just a consolation prize.
Lynx was certain Daniel’s mother would beg to differ.
“What’s the guy’s name? The one I was talking to?”
“Jackson. He started his own pawn shop,” Fox replied.
“I’m gonna need the address. Don’t ask.”
“Fine.” Fox rolled his eyes, making Lynx wonder if he himself looked like that sometimes.
Nothing suggested the button was linked to the case. Nothing at all. But the void of information nagged him like a pond he couldn’t see the bottom of, and now there was a glint of gold beckoning in the murk.
