Dead and Horny

Lily cracked into Deacon’s mind with ease, muting his frantic screams as she stacked his memories up like panes of glass to inspect them. Her essence tugged at his soul like a determined puppy, nibbling the sharp edges away and leaving behind a mottled mess. Souls didn’t typically last long in this place, but she was keeping him preserved for now. While memories could sometimes be accessed later on, she didn’t have the luxury of assuming Deacon’s would remain intact as she digested him for eternity. The longer a soul sat in her metaphorical gut, the harder it became for them to remember anything regarding their personal lives. There were spirits inside her from her early days that only had a vague inkling that they had been alive once upon a time.

The pain of having his mind fragmented into pieces drove Deacon mad early on, the man now babbling between sobs, but Lily would just reassemble his essence later. Souls were very resilient that way, and his suffering didn’t even faze her. The bastard had already committed hundreds if not thousands of people to a one-way trip to eternal damnation, so any regret she might feel was quickly subdued. Many of his memories weren’t important enough to keep, so she tossed them to the other souls to do with what they wished.

Ravenous, her spiritual slaves entered the memories and began their own torment of Deacon. It was the one bit of freedom she allowed them, the opportunity to torture each other. Inside these memories, Deacon was forced to endure numerous methods of torture, humiliation, and even his own death, stuck in a loop as Lily sifted through the shards of his life.

“For a douchebag, his shit really is pretty clean.” Mike stood next to her, contemplating an image of Deacon giving a sermon in Atlanta. The image in the glass moved in slow motion, but there wasn’t any sound. “You usually find the good stuff early on.”

“He’s still hiding what I want to know.” She took the Atlanta sermon from Mike and turned to face a scowling spirit who appeared at her whim. The tormented soul before her had been an arsonist that the Society had hired more than once. The idiot had decided to extort them for money, so they sent in Lily to take him out. “Make him relive this one, only the whole place burned down and he got trapped inside.”

The arsonist nodded, then took the frame from her and melted into the picture. It hovered in the air for a few moments, then hairline fractures appeared on the glass as the image now depicted a screaming Deacon melting from the heat of the flames.

“You’re being quite thorough.” Mike hopped onto a stool that conjured itself from the aether. “I’ve never seen you do this before.”

“I was quite the artist once upon a time.” She smiled at Mike.

“You mean before I redeemed you?” Mike licked his lips and winked.

“Maybe.” She smirked and then picked up another memory. “Here we go. These aren’t in chronological order, which is weird. I’m guessing that’s Legion’s handiwork. But this one has his wife, and we know what he’s hiding from us involves her somehow.”

“Yeah, it does.” Mike took the memory from her. “Maybe I should ask him what he’s hiding. We could do a good-cop, bad-cop routine.”

“And you’re the good cop?”

Mike chuckled. “We could flip a coin for it. I’ll hold him at gunpoint, you could set him on fire.”

“That would be bad cop, worse cop. Are you even taking this seriously?”

“Nope. But because I’m not, you are.” His features turned serious as he picked up another memory. “So I guess we go through these and sort out anything involving his wife and try to dig through them later.”

The effort took only moments in the real world, but was hours inside of Lily’s mind. She and Mike created three different categories for Deacon’s memories. The first was anything involving his wife, and the second category was any memory they thought may contain a nugget of information they could use. The third category belonged to memories they knew had nothing of value, like his numerous televised sermons. Those went directly to the tormented souls living inside her essence. If she wanted to, she could have listened to Deacon’s soul scream for mercy, but for whatever reason, she had lost the taste for it.

She was getting soft, but she knew the reason why. Looking at the tiny piece of Mike’s soul standing in the corner and humming to himself, she knew that she was becoming soft for him. It wasn’t because she had to, but because she wanted to. The thought made her feel warm inside. It was a very different warmth than she was used to.

“Hold on.” Mike was holding a memory in his hands. “Have you ever heard that old saying that memories are just your brain recreating stuff?”

“Maybe.” Lily moved to where Mike stood. “Why?”

“Since this is his soul and not his mind, then whatever we see should be accurate, correct?”

“For the most part. Humans delude themselves all the time, so I’ll sometimes see stuff in their head that’s clearly been overwritten. But once they’re in here, I can scrape off the gunk. Why?”

Mike showed her the frame. It was a moving image of Deacon on a cot, clearly from his homeless days. He was holding a Bible in his hands, slowly turning through the pages. At his side, an old man spoke, his gnarled fingers picking at the skin of his face. The elderly figure was blurry, like a grease stain through paper. “This isn’t what we saw before.”

“Interesting.” Lily took the memory and stretched it out wide enough to jump inside. She stood in the homeless shelter now, her gaze on the old man with Deacon. He was talking animatedly, but instead of a human voice, it was the buzzing of flies.

“I think we just found Legion.” Mike circled the cot, then knelt down nearby. “This guy is sitting roughly where that enochian script was the last time we were in here. It can’t be a coincidence. Is this memory still altered from before?”

“Not quite.” Lily tapped the memory with a finger, and the world rippled. The buzzing sound faded away, and Legion’s voice manifested, echoing oddly throughout the room.

“Angels are very real,” Legion said, scratching at a sore on his face. “Even those who fell were part of His plan. But what if I told you he couldn’t account for everything?”

Deacon chuckled, then handed the Bible back. “Look, man, I just want a place to sleep for the night. No offense, but I’m trying to stay clean, and shit like this depresses me.”

“What if I told you I could take the edge off? Just for tonight.” Legion put a wrinkled hand on Deacon’s leg.

“Don’t do that.” Deacon tried to yank his leg away, but Legion held fast. Dark fluid rose from Deacon’s pants like spilled ink, then soaked into Legion’s skin. “Wait, what the hell was that?”

“The poison in your veins.” Legion held black-tipped fingers out. “Tonight, you fall asleep as a healthy man, that you may ponder what I have to offer.” He rose, but not before handing the Bible back. “You could feel like this every night.”

Deacon scowled, but he was sitting up straight now, his eyes more alert than before. He took the Bible and watched Legion walk away to lie down on a nearby cot.

“This is where they met,” Lily muttered, then put mental pressure on the memory. The night ran in fast forward, Deacon sitting in bed and reading. When lights out was called, the shelter descended into darkness. Osgrove’s eyes lit up briefly with magic, and he continued to read throughout the night in pure darkness.

When the morning came, he stood and walked over to Legion’s cot. The demon was coughing, his skin flecked with dark liver spots.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Mike asked.

“No idea.” Lily frowned, then knelt by the demon’s cot. “Even on his own, he should be strong enough to make others bend to his whims.”

She watched as Legion sat up, the dark fluid he had absorbed slipping discretely across the floor and climbing up Deacon’s legs. Osgrove appeared stricken as he shivered and scratched at his skin.

“Don’t,” he said, holding out the Bible. “Don’t make me feel that way again.”

Legion chuckled. “I can keep the addiction at bay, but it comes with a price.”

“Anything,” Deacon said, then shook the Bible. “Even this.”

The demon’s face twisted into a grin. “I was hoping you would say that.”

The memory came to an end, then shrank down until it was in Lily’s hands again. She set it aside in case she needed to see it later.

Legion helped raise Deacon out of homelessness from the shadows. First he had Deacon read the Bible front to back, then taught him how to orate and command attention. Deacon started a small fellowship in the shelter, which was noticed by the staff. A local priest dropped by to speak with Deacon about his faith. Weeks in the shelter became months, but Deacon was allowed to stay longer than usual as a guest of the church. Each day, Legion drew the poison of addiction from Deacon’s body and kept him clean. Deacon repaid the demon by speaking about God’s plan to anyone who would listen.

Lily half expected something nefarious, but it was all a tool to get Deacon noticed by the higher ups at the church. Deacon was asked to give a guest sermon when the local pastor fell ill, a sickness brought down on the man by Legion himself. The sermon impressed some of the wealthier patrons, who decided to put together a collection to help move Deacon out of the shelter and into a place of his own.

That was where the real work started. Every day, Deacon volunteered and preached from the Bible, his natural charisma bleeding into every aspect of his life. His star rose into the sky, and he was asked to guest star on an AM radio show. Legion manipulated the airwaves on more than one occasion, calling in with different voices so that others could hear salvation occur in real time.

It wasn’t long before Deacon found someone who wanted him to start his own congregation. By now, he was full of confidence as he suggested that the congregation shouldn’t be limited by location and maybe they could stream some of the sermons online. At night, he watched from the darkness of his home as his viewer count went up with Legion right by his side the whole time.

“I guess I don’t get it.” Mike stood behind Legion, his arms crossed. “This seems like a lot of work from Legion’s angle. The asshole has had one foot in the grave the whole time. What’s his angle?”

“Demons don’t think of time like you do,” Lily explained. “A hundred years to a human will feel like a couple of months at most. He is patient, but it looks like he’s taking a heavy risk.” She paused the scene and gestured at the demon. “I’m fairly certain he’s keeping this vessel alive with willpower alone.”

“Nasty.” Mike wandered off as Lily continued. He missed the moment where things shifted, a dark night when Deacon sipped at a beer while watching his most recent sermon on a laptop in a hotel room.

“It’s time,” Legion said, placing bony fingers on Deacon’s shoulder. “You’ve gone as far as you can go on your own, and my powers are at their limit.”

“What would you have of me?” Deacon looked back over his shoulder.

“It’s time for you to take a bride.” Legion’s eyes glowed ominously in the darkness. “One who will give you a family.”

“Hmm.” Deacon turned off the sermon and opened up a folder on his computer. Inside were dozens of folders, each one with a different name. “My people have put together some dossiers on potential prospects. All of these are women who have written me letters or attended my sermons. Their education, family background, and health histories have been thoroughly researched. Still, we’ll have to be pretty picky. I have a few in mind that I think will be perfect, but you will want to vet them personally. I can’t see into a person’s mind quite like you can.”

“Of course.” Legion leaned over Deacon as the pastor started pulling out files. The memory terminated early and Lily was forced to dig through several more before finding what happened next. In the real world, a jogger ran by, casting a brief look in Lily’s direction. She got a vibe off of him that he might be circling back to try and chat her up, so she gave him a hard stare that threw him off his pace.

“Eyes up, chicken legs.” She made sure to glare at his backside as he pretended to ignore her, then settled back into her head once again.

Back in her head, she continued to dissect Deacon’s memories once more. She watched as he and Legion picked out the woman who would become Deacon’s wife. The courtship was brief, intense, and culminated once more in the scene where Deacon impregnated his wife. Yet she was unable to find any further mention of what he and Legion had been planning. The demon’s physical form was failing him and he spent his days motionless in bed.

In the end, it was Mike who found the final memory sandwiched between a pair of innocuous ones from Deacon’s childhood. Mike held it over his head and waved it like a banner before slapping it onto the ground where it expanded and covered the space they were in. Lily and Mike now stood in a hospital room, machines beeping ominously as a still figure laid in a nearby bed.

“She’ll be here soon,” said Deacon, then took the figure by the hand. Lily realized that the dying man was none other than Legion. “You know how it is.”

Legion nodded, unable to speak. The tube down his throat was doing all the breathing for him.

“So what happened here?” Mike asked. “I thought you said his demon magic kept him alive?”

“It may have, but he’s still in a human body. Mortals are made of meat, and meat always rots.” She leaned over Legion and sneered. If this weren’t a memory, she would be tempted to strangle him. The edges of this memory were tinged with gold and crimson light, both of them evidence that it had not only been buried deep, but possibly erased. Even now, the memory had literal holes in it that she could see through.

The door opened and Deacon’s wife stepped inside, one hand over her swollen belly. The other was at her mouth, her eyes shifting back and forth between Legion and Deacon.

“Is this him?” she asked. 

Deacon nodded, then stroked Legion’s forehead. “It is,” he replied. “This is the angel who helped me become who I am.”

“It is such an honor,” she whispered, then took Legion’s hand. “I must admit, I doubted. But all of His children doubt at some point, don’t they?” She rubbed her belly. “The doctors, they all said this wasn’t medically possible, but you made this happen, didn’t you?”

Legion nodded, then gestured to Deacon.

“Our daughter will grow up strong,” Deacon said, moving to his wife. “And she will become a leader among men. But the angel has one final task for us. For you, specifically.”

Deacon’s wife moved to Legion’s side. “Anything,” she swore.

The demon struggled to pull the tube from his throat, his gnarled fingers now withered away in places, the skin flaking off. He pulled the apparatus out, then took a single, rasping breath before speaking.

“Your consent,” he whispered, then pointed to the woman’s belly. “I need…your permission…to…let me in…your daughter.”

“I don’t understand,” she replied, then looked at Deacon.

“His presence here on earth requires a mortal form,” Deacon explained. “Our child will become his new vessel.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Lily moved to grab Deacon by the throat, but Mike stopped her.

“We need to know what happens next,” he replied. “This memory is already fragile enough, you might tear it.” He pointed down at her feet, and she saw that the ground had torn like paper where she had stepped.

“Fuck!” She glared at Deacon as he and his wife conferred silently. Legion watched the two of them, his already sallow skin starting to sag. Deacon’s wife approached the demon with tears in her eyes.

“What will happen to my little girl?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“She’ll go where all unborn children go.” Legion smiled, his eyes turning dark. He put a single hand on the woman’s stomach.

“To be with God?” Her voice shook. Deacon moved up behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“We are being tested,” he told her, then nuzzled his face into her neck. “Can we prove that we’re worthy?”

The woman nodded, and Legion let out a gasp. Lily watched in horror as the demon’s eyes fluttered, the baby’s soul swapping places with his essence. The machines in the room flatlined, and Deacon pulled his wife away from the old man’s corpse and put both hands on her belly.

“Our child is an angel,” he said as he kissed her forehead. “In all the best ways.”

The woman sobbed as medical staff came into the room and pronounced Legion’s former body as dead. Deacon’s wife let out a groan as her legs went out from beneath her and a puddle of fluid formed between her knees. 

“Guess this old guy was just making room for somebody new,” said one of the attendants as he helped Deacon’s wife up. “At least you’ll save money on the ambulance ride, right?”

Nobody seemed to notice the dark fluid leaking out of his wife’s eyes. Cracks formed across the memory before it shattered, leaving her and Mike alone in the void.

“Legion’s vessel was Deacon’s daughter.” Lily shook her head in disbelief and looked at Mike. “How did I not see this?”

Mike contemplated her for a moment then looked at the memories stacked nearby. “Misdirection,” he replied. “They hid her in plain sight. Forever in her father’s shadow, but actually leading from behind. That man raised Legion as his own child, but kept her tucked away.”

“But I should have known!” Lily stared at the stack of memories. “Even in these, she’s nothing more than a shadow!”

“Do we even know her name?” Mike stared at Lily in horror. “This whole time she’s been right there, and we don’t even know who she is. She’s always just been Deacon’s daughter.”

“Fuck!” Lily shouted so hard that she exited her head space and screamed it over the nearby bluff. Birds and other nearby animals panicked at the fury in her voice, then scattered into the air. Rising to her feet, Lily sprinted back to the house. Legion has escaped, but surely Eulalie could find her, right?

Right?

---

It was late in the evening. The setting sun kissed the waves on the horizon with fiery streaks of red that shot out and captured returning fishing vessels in silhouettes of darkness.

Dana sat on a bench, her eyes scanning the sky for any sign of Lily. The succubus had returned to the rental house early that morning to declare that Deacon’s daughter was in fact Legion Prime, then had dramatically thrown herself off the master bedroom’s balcony to go for a flight to cool down. That had been almost twelve hours ago.

At her side, Tasia leaned back against the scratchy wood frame. The former knight had a bag full of cheeseburgers in her lap and was eating her sixth one of the afternoon. Eulalie had promptly gone searching for Deacon’s daughter after Lily’s announcement, only to discover that the woman had yet to leave any sort of trail that could be followed. While it didn’t surprise Dana that the demon had pulled one over on them, it had been disappointing that they had all overlooked the obvious. 

Tasia belched. When Dana looked her way, the werewolf flinched.

“You look pissed,” Tasia said with a frown.

“I’m not pissed.” Dana looked away from Tasia. “I’m not anything, actually.” The effects of vampire flesh and werewolf blood had tapered out earlier in the day, and her undead condition had settled back in place. While her memories of Tasia were hot and fiery, the feelings behind them had been turned off like water from a spigot. “Permanent resting-bitch face is all.” Just another dead girl problem.

“I see.” Tasia sighed, then stood from the bench. “Are we going to wait here all day for Lily?”

“No. Why? Do you have somewhere else to be?”

Tasia nodded. “I do. Eulalie was going to help me get home so I could speak with my father. It’s the middle of the night there, which means the house won’t be packed full of Order personnel.”

“You’re leaving now?” Somewhere in Dana’s mind, a part of her whispered that she should feel hurt. She ignored it.

“Now…ish. I was going to go earlier, but I wanted a little more time with you. Figured if you reverted, it would hurt you less.”

That wasn’t true. While Tasia leaving now wouldn’t hurt Dana, she would feel that loss next time she fed. She had no doubt that Tasia’s heart was in the right place, though. It really was a logical decision.

“Did you…want to come and see me off?” Tasia looked nervous to even be asking.

“Sure.” In truth, Dana didn’t care, but she knew she would later. Lily would come home when she was ready.

The two of them rose and walked back to the rental house. Eulalie waited for them inside wearing a headset and using a pair of laptops set up by the couch. The Arachne was surrounded by a small retinue of magical rats who seemed to be waiting for further instructions.

“There you guys are.” Eulalie took off her headset. “Any sign of Lily?”

“Nope.”

“Damn. She really is pissed.” Eulalie sighed. “She’s taking the Legion thing really hard. Honestly, I should have known something was off, too, but—”

Tasia put a hand on Eulalie’s arm. “What’s done is done,” she said, then looked at Dana. “There will be other opportunities to catch that fucker and make them pay, right?”

Both Dana and Eulalie nodded.

“Anyway, I’ve got your portal just about ready. Say the word and we’ll get you home.” Eulalie gestured over to one of the spare bedrooms. “I didn’t want to tunnel into your father’s house and leave it open. Once you’re ready, the rats will finish their job and we can send you through. We’ll detonate the portal from our side, just so you know.”

“Detonate is a drastic word,” said Dana.

“Not this time.” Eulalie gave both of them a knowing look. “I’m not taking any more chances and showing up on someone’s radar. Once you’re through to the other side, I’m shutting the door and blowing up someone’s old wood shed.” She had explained her chilling encounter with the Hat Man to both of them over lunch. Someone out there now knew the Arachne were no longer extinct, which meant Eulalie had to be far more careful in terms of openly getting involved.

Tasia nodded, then looked at Dana. “I guess this is it, then. Walk me to the closet?”

Dana nodded and walked with Tasia to the spare bedroom. When they opened the closet door, a hot breeze blew through the room and ruffled the curtains. Through the portal was an empty structure that looked over sandy terrain that reminded Dana of the Middle East. Sunrise had smeared golden rays across the nearby hillside like paint.

Tasia cleared her throat and looked awkwardly at Dana. “If things go bad for me—”

“Then I’ll burn the world down.” Dana pulled Tasia into a hug. “Won’t even hesitate.”

They hugged each other for nearly a minute. Eventually, Eulalie cleared her throat, reminding them that she was there.

“Portal is open,” she said, then took Tasia’s hand and shook it. “You know how to reach me if you need help.”

“I do.” Tasia looked at Dana. “I’ll send word when I can.”

“You’d better.” Dana watched as Tasia stepped into the closet. For just a moment, she almost begged Tasia not to go. What they had together had been brief, but it had also been exciting and so full of promise. She didn’t look forward to the next time she fed, knowing that these emotions would lurk deep inside her like a bomb, waiting to break her into pieces.

“Fifth portal is your dad’s house,” called Eulalie. “Just so you know.”

Tasia looked over her shoulder and gave a thumbs up before turning left and disappearing through another portal. There was a loud thud, and the closet wall reappeared, the surface shimmering.

“Lily’s going to be pissed she missed this,” said Eulalie.

“You really think so?”

Eulalie nodded. “The dog jokes pretty much write themselves at this point. I saw how you two looked at each other. Only thing that would have made it worse would be if you yelled and were mean so that she’d wander off into the woods to have a better life or whatever. I’m more than a little depressed just thinking about it.” She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a demon to track.”

“Need any help?”

The Arachne shrugged. “You know what? No, I don’t. Not really. And that’s not me just blowing you off. I have connections I can rely on, programs that will monitor, queries to send. I can do all those things faster on my own.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Honestly, I wish I had done all of this on my own. I started this mess, you know? And it was stupid of me. Books and movies literally have a trope about the dangers of seeking revenge for this very reason. Was it ever going to bring my sister back? No. That’s a wrong that can never be made right. I did this whole thing just to make myself feel better, and for what? I put my friends in danger, I put myself in danger, and I may have even put the House itself in danger as well. And what do I have to show for it? Regret. Guilt. Anger.”

Dana contemplated the Arachne, but remained silent. 

Eulalie stood there, her fists clenched at her sides and her jaw tense. The Arachne took a deep breath, then exhaled.

“I fooled myself into thinking I was doing all this for Velvet,” she muttered. “But I was really doing it for myself.”

“And me,” Dana added. “Lily, too. You can fool yourself into thinking that this was all about you, but you didn’t force us to do anything. We all wanted our pound of flesh and got more than we bargained for. Next time—”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Next time,” Dana continued, “we don’t walk in thinking we’ve got this on our own. Maybe you feel like you’re alone now, but you aren’t. You’re part of a family. We all are. And if you ever say the word, I bet you’ll have everybody lined up and happy to kick ass for you. So I guess I’ll ask again…do you need my help?”

The Arachne stared at Dana for several long seconds before speaking. “No, I don’t. Not this time.” Eulalie looked down at her hands, then unclenched her fists before looking back up at Dana. “But I think…I think that I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Dana moved to Eulalie’s side and bumped the Arachne’s leg with her shoulder. “Anything for family.”

---

The moment Tasia stepped through the final portal, she heard a dull thud behind her as the magic was severed. Eulalie had warned her that there would be no escape route if things went wrong; she couldn’t risk the Order or Tasia’s father learning about the rats’ existence. Still, Tasia had gone ahead with the plan, knowing full well that it needed to be done.

Though it hadn’t been possible, she wished Dana had come along.

Tasia found herself in a dark room, most likely one of the kitchens. Any servants working this time of night weren’t likely to be in here, which meant she would have a better chance of avoiding discovery.

Moving toward the nearest window, she peered outside in the hopes of figuring out where she was. The skies were dark, and she could barely make out the silhouette of the central building under the soft glow of distant lights. She took a deep breath through her nose and sifted through the smells, hoping something would catch.

It didn’t. Scowling, she moved stealthily across the room and pushed the door open a crack. The hallways were dimly lit and nobody was around. She stepped free of the kitchen, her senses on full alert as she moved through the old fortress. It took her a few minutes, but she finally figured out that she was in the southern wing and on the bottom floor. She needed to get to the central courtyard first before she could find a path to her father’s study.

She was more than a little surprised when her nose picked up the smell of three men and two women near the exit to the courtyard. Sliding into a closet, she heard the gentle click of a door opening, followed by the sounds of footsteps. She could see the shadows of their feet along the bottom of the door, then tensed up when someone came to a stop. Clenching her fists, she flinched when the person on the other side of the door sneezed.

“Bless you,” said a male voice.

“Thanks.” The woman on the other side sniffed. “I think it’s all the stormy weather. It keeps messing with my sinuses.”

“You two are too loud,” someone else muttered. “Don’t forget that people actually live here.”

The shadows moved on, and Tasia let out the breath she had been holding. She waited until their scents receded, then stepped free of the closet and moved toward the exit.

It was drizzling out in the courtyard. Visibility was low, which meant it was easier to move among the shadows. Tasia looked up toward her father’s study and was a little surprised to see that the light was on. If her father was alone, this would be in her favor, as they could have their conversation in private. But if he was in an emergency meeting with others…

None of this mattered, however. The main entrance to the central building was guarded. Tasia’s options were to take the long route through the east wing or attempt scaling the exterior of the building until she could find an opening. With the falling rain, she didn’t dare attempt the climb. She might be able to accomplish it in wolf form, but that would make her look more like an assassin instead of a troubled daughter in need of help.

The east wing door wasn’t guarded, but she did have to wait for a patrol to pass by before slipping inside. Luckily, the storm blowing through increased in ferocity. During a temporary downpour, Tasia slid through the door and shook herself off before continuing any further. These halls were familiar to her, as they were once the stomping grounds of her youth. Prior to joining the Order, she had run through these very hallways with a training blade, assaulting some of the decorative armor to defend the Laskaris family honor. Even now, she could see a suit of armor from the 1300s still sporting a massive dent in one of the greaves that she put there almost twenty years ago.

“Your father refused to let me fix that one,” said a voice from behind. Tasia spun around, startled that somebody had been able to evade her senses. Standing in a doorway that hadn’t been there before was Basil. “He always thought it added character to the piece. Armor that has never seen battle is little more than fodder for a museum gift shop.”

“How did you—”

“Your father spotted you from his study. The rain masked my scent, and I’ve dedicated years to traveling these hallways unseen.” He gestured toward the secret door. “Please, come. We would prefer that you not be seen by the others.”

Trembling, Tasia followed the man into the secret passage. She thought she knew most of them, but had never seen this particular doorway opened before. Even knowing now where it was, she marveled at how smoothly the door slid into place from inside the secret passageway itself.

“Wh—” Tasia’s words were cut off when a gloved finger was pressed to her lips. Moments later, she heard murmuring through the wall as somebody passed by. Basil tilted his head to one side as if listening, then nodded and gestured for her to follow.

The twists and turns of the secret labyrinth were dizzying. Basil maintained an unhurried pace, leading Tasia up a flight of stairs and then exiting into an empty bedroom. Moving silently, he tripped a switch behind the headboard and took her into another passageway.

“Your father has been expecting you,” he said, breaking the silence. “Admittedly, not quite this soon. He figured it would be at least another week before you found a way to get here.”

“So my father, he—”

“Has his assumptions, Miss. I do not wish to speak in his place, however, so please don’t ask.” Basil cleared his throat. “However, I will voice that we appear to be on the edge of troubling times.”

“Troubling how?”

Basil ignored her question, then held up a hand for them to stop. They stood that way for nearly a minute before they continued onward, crossing through an empty hallway to access yet another secret door.

“With the recent death of Master Lynn, many higher ranking officials have come under the direct purview of the Council. Though I will not speak to their motivations, know that the men and women patrolling these hallways will grant no quarter nor explanation.” The man’s lips pressed together so hard they threatened to disappear. “But if you truly were Mistress Lynn’s killer, then I am not certain what they hope to accomplish by packing this place with mere children.”

“Basil.” It was the closest thing to an opinion the man would likely voice on the matter.

“Not another word until we reach your father.” The servant put a finger to his lips and pointed upward. “He wouldn’t allow them to place wards detecting his staff through the walls, but they will hear our passage. Please match your footsteps to mine, just in case.”

She nodded, then followed closely. They were in the main wing now, ascending a tight spiral staircase that would have an ordinary person winded. Tasia was careful to match her steps to Basil’s, even though the man didn’t seem to make any noise. Even so, she could hear the soft clink of her shoes on metal as they walked.

Several minutes later, Basil pushed open a door to reveal her father’s study. She took a moment to contemplate the family crest on the door, a wolf’s head guarding an open book. Would her father still see her as a protector? Or was he planning to deal with her personally?

Alexandros Laskaris stood by the fire, a blade strapped to his waist and his arms crossed. When he turned to face them, those predatory eyes gleamed.

“That will be all, Basil.” Alexandros’ voice was as cold as the storm. “I will let you know if I need you.”

The servant nodded, then left through the secret doorway.

Alexandros walked toward his daughter, his arms still crossed. He studied her in silence for several minutes, his eyes lingering on the recently healed wounds of her body. She said nothing as she allowed her father to inspect her.

“Where is your sword?” he asked.

“Lost to me,” she replied. “I learned recently that I fought better without it.”

“As the wolf,” he said. “But not as a Knight.”

“I am no longer a Knight,” she replied, her eyes straight forward. “A Knight is a valuable part of a team, a protector. Even before the death of Master Lynn, I realized that the others would no longer see me as one of them. My new abilities came at a cost, and the events in Florida cost me any trust I had earned.”

Alexandros stopped in front of his daughter, one hand dropping to his hilt. “If I decided to take your head, would you try and stop me?”

Tasia tensed her jaw and met his steady gaze. “I would,” she admitted. “And you had better strike true, because I won’t make it easy.”

Her father stepped forward, his embrace gentle. Tasia stiffened up at first, then raised her arms to reciprocate. Her father’s voice was soft in her ears as he spoke.

“I never believed for one second that you were the monster they claimed,” he said.

“Father.” Tasia bit back tears as the man stepped away.

“Master Lynn was one of the greatest swordsmen the Order has ever known. Even if you got the drop on her, she would have left her mark. I see that someone has cut you recently, but they are not the marks of a master.” Her father studied her once more. “While studying the autopsy reports, I found discrepancies between witness statements and what was left of the bodies. Brother Esteban was adamant that we catch you right away, but has suddenly gone missing. Reports indicate that he is en route to a retreat for emotional support, but he is already a day late.”

Tasia opened her mouth to share everything that had happened with her father, then paused. There would be massive holes in her story, and he would see them immediately. No matter what happened next, she couldn’t reveal what she knew about the others, but needed to give him enough to validate her tale.

“I wasn’t there when it happened,” she said. “Esteban captured me and turned me over to a man named Deacon Osgrove.”

“The pastor?” Alexandros looked thoughtful for a moment. “What for?”

“I’m not entirely certain,” she said. She went on to describe Esteban’s strange behavior, and how she was turned over to Deacon to be given to a man called the Curator.

The moment she mentioned his name, her father paled.

“You are sure of this?” he whispered. “He used that name?”

Puzzled, Tasia nodded. “I learned this information later, but yes. I was rescued from Deacon by a woman in a similar situation. She helped keep me one step ahead of both the Order and the Curator.”

She half expected her father to ask about Dana, but he didn’t. Instead, he fingered the hilt of his sword as if he expected to draw it any moment.

“Who is the Curator?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” he replied, “but it’s a name only known among the highest ranking members of the Order. If the organization has a boogeyman, it is him. It has been decades since we’ve had a confirmed sighting, but if he’s in play now…” Alexandros stroked his chin.

“He wanted to take me apart,” said Tasia. “To see how I worked.”

Alexandros gripped his sword, then let go. “Then perhaps the stories are true,” he said, his glistening eyes turning toward the fire. “A man going by that title has been around since the late 1700s. We’re not certain what he is, but he has a certain…proclivity for dissecting his victims. On at least three occasions, the Order has fought this man. We last encountered him during World War II, running experiments for the Nazis. It was believed that we killed him just after the war, but I now have my doubts.”

“I see.” Tasia watched her father study the fire. She cleared her throat and took a step toward him. “Father, you’ve seen the discrepancies. I don’t know that I would ask to return to my duties as a Knight, but would you at least help me clear my name?”

“No.” Alexandros spoke without hesitation. “I will not help you with this.”

“Father?” Tasia blinked in surprise and took a step away from him. If he knew that she was innocent, then why would he allow her to remain a fugitive?

“Tell me, Tasia. What is the most dangerous blade of all?”

She bit her lip in frustration. The last thing she wanted was another lesson from her father. “It’s the one you don’t see coming…sir,” she added with contempt.

“Something is rotting from within the Order.” Alexandros looked away from the flames. “Powerful enemies move against us from the shadows, and I fear they are winning. The organization was so easily swayed into believing in your guilt that I now doubt how noble their intentions are. With the death of so many ranking members, I am now seeing a rise in disturbing personal philosophies. We were meant to maintain the balance between worlds, but I suspect some use this mission statement as little more than a shield for their true ideology.”

“I…” Tasia cleared her throat. “This is something I recently discovered for myself.”

“Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?” Alexandros undid the belt that held his sheath against his waist. “For centuries, our family has served the Order. We have shed our own blood to maintain that which we held important. To that end, I must ask you a tremendous favor.”

Alexandros held out his sword. “This blade was my father’s,” he said. “I want you to take it, to be the blade that nobody sees coming. Basil is already preparing a boat to take you to a secret training facility known only to me and him. It is there that I will train you personally that we may ferret out corruption and help re-establish the true purpose of the Order: to maintain and preserve the balance. For both sides.”

“Father, I…” Tasia raised her hand and pushed the blade back toward her father. “That isn’t who I am, anymore.”

“Take it.” Alexandros frowned. “You are a Knight no longer, and this blade is not for the Order. It belongs solely to the Laskaris family, and it is a gift from a father to his daughter. In places where you cannot turn to the wolf, it will serve you well.” 

“I…thank you.” Tasia secrured the belt around her own waist. She felt a chill run up her spine as the sword vanished from sight, the belt bursting into motes of darkness that formed into an obsidian bracelet on her wrist. “Really. Thank you.”

“It will be some time before I can come to you,” he said. “And when I do, it will be under the guise of self-imposed punishment for your actions. Publically, I will demand your head and slander you appropriately so that the Council and anyone watching will assume that we have no correspondence. But privately?” His eyes met hers. “I am insanely proud of you.”

Tasia blinked away tears and was about to respond when she heard the soft click of the secret door.

“The boat is ready, sir.” Basil stood there holding a poncho in one hand. “The weather conditions are absolutely dreadful and will make a perfect cover for our egress.”

Alexandros nodded. “Go,” he said. “Be safe.”

In silence, Tasia followed Basil through the passageways of the island. Her fingers went to the bracelet at her wrist more than once, marveling at the smooth, cold texture. Would it expand to fit her wrist when she became the wolf? It was something she would have to test later.

Secret passageways turned into rocky caves that dripped with water. The dark, Aegean seas swelled dangerously around their narrow path as they entered a jagged opening. A boat was tied to a nearby rock. Basil gestured for Tasia to get in, then joined her. He offered the clear poncho to Tasia.

“It’s raining quite hard, Miss.”

Tasia stared out at the rolling waters. The rain had turned the darkness of night into an inky void. A part of her was scared to explore it, to face the unknown without a familiar face at her side. How long would it even be before she could get in contact with Dana? She was essentially going into exile, which meant she had no way of letting the others know that she was okay.

Troubled, she turned back to her father’s servant and shook her head. “No thank you,” she said, then leaned back in the boat and put her arms behind her head. “I quite like the rain. It fits my mood this evening.”

“Very well.” Basil put on a poncho of his own, then picked up an oar. “And if you’ll pardon me for suggesting it, this will go much faster if you help row.”

“Oh. Right.” Chagrined, Tasia sat back up and grabbed the nearest oar. As they rowed out into the tumultuous waters of the Aegean, she looked up at her childhood home, wondering if she would ever see it again.

Together, they rowed out into the darkness to face the unknown.

---

Dana was back in the observatory, up on the ladder once more. In her hand was a new gear, created this morning and filed down to fit precisely in place. Sticking her hand into the assembly above, she closed her eyes and tried to visualize positioning the piece.

Instead of seeing the array, she saw Tasia. It had been almost five days now since the werewolf walked through the portal to her father’s home, and Dana still hadn’t heard from her. Eulalie had been monitoring chatter from the Order, but had yet to hear anything regarding Tasia.

Had Tasia been captured? Killed? Had she changed her mind about how she felt about Dana? These questions dominated Dana’s brain until she heard a loud clank, followed by the sound of the ladder clattering to the floor. She opened her eyes to see that in her trance she had stepped away from the ladder and fallen, her legs kicking it to the floor.

“Stupid fucking useless zombie!” Tink threw a wrench across the room and picked the ladder up to shove it beneath Dana’s feet. “Broke gear again. Get head out of clouds!”

“Sorry,” she muttered, then looked up at her hand. The gear had slid away from her and was stuck in a different part of the assembly now. Her fall had caused her hand to catch in the assembly and trigger movement, which meant the whole system was now seized up. Based on Tink’s current verbal tirade, there was a good chance Dana would have to fix it by herself later.

Well, after she repaired her hand. The way it was pinched, she knew that most of her fingers were broken and could even see bone in places. It was easier to yank her hand out and then go back with a pair of pliers to retrieve her middle finger. Tink made a face at Dana as she walked past.

“Tink help when stupid dead girl ready to pay attention,” she declared, then blew a raspberry, flipped Dana the bird, and stormed out.

Unperturbed, Dana began the long walk to the centaur village. The deep grooves and cuts on her hands were already healing, but the delicate tendons in her finger would need to be reattached.

Zel was busy giving a lesson on healing herbs to some of the younger centaurs, including her son Callisto. The young centaur’s eyes bugged out of his head when he saw the damage to Dana’s hand. Zel immediately ended the lesson.

“C’mon, shoo. Shoo.” Zel waved the children away and was already putting on gloves. “We have to stop meeting like this. Telescope again?”

“Telescope again.” Dana walked to the surgery table and placed her hand out, her severed finger clutched tightly in her palm. “I got distracted. Tink’s mad at me now.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Zel chuckled, then pulled out her sewing kit. “Tink’s always mad at someone.”

“Mike prefers the term passionate.” Dana grinned at the thought of Mike and Tink together. They seemed like emotional opposites, yet the two of them had always been close. In a lot of ways, it reminded her of Tasia. The two of them had made a great team, and—

“Helloooo.” Zel had picked up a stick and was poking Dana in the shoulder. “I can’t get started unless you hold your fingers wide for me.”

“Sorry.” Dana watched as Zel began the long process of locating her tendons and trying to force them back together. “How’s our boy doing?” she asked.

“Vampyr on the rocks?” Zel smirked. “He’s doing just fine in cold storage. Actually, there’s something I wanted to show you when you get a second. I think we made a breakthrough last night studying his cells, one that you could use.”

Dana shrugged. She wanted to be excited, but it simply wasn’t there. “Only if you have time,” she muttered.

“Oh, I always have time for science.” Zel’s eyes gleamed as she shoved Dana’s finger in place. “I always have time for this, too, but maybe give me a few more days next time. You were a mess when you got back from your top secret trip.”

“Ah, yes. The one that everybody knew about.” Dana should have known better than to assume it would remain a secret, but had been surprised to learn that Mike and the others already knew. She had tried to explain what they were doing to Mike, but he had informed them that they owed him nothing. If Eulalie thought it was important, then he trusted their judgment entirely.

Lily had huffed throughout Mike’s monologue about personal boundaries, but Dana had it on good authority that the succubus subsequently spent most of that evening and part of the next morning attempting to suck him dry of his bodily fluids. The man had been walking around with a shit-eating grin for days now and had even giggled once when someone asked how he slept. 

“At least I’m not pulling shrapnel out of your butt.” Zel grabbed Dana by the wrist. “Bend it for me.”

Dana flexed all of her fingers as the cells regenerated. “Technically, it was my inner thigh,” she said. “Was just easier for me to bend over on the table is all.”

“I’ve spent more time with my fingers inside you than any other person on earth. We’re practically dating at this point.” Zel pulled off her gloves, moving to wash her hands in the basin.

“That sounds like a Lily original.”

Zel nodded. “She’s been around a lot lately. I can tell how restless she is. Spends a good chunk of time with Callisto. I’m not sure what that’s about. I think it might be related to Velvet’s egg, since Mike has it almost full time right now.”

“You’re probably right.” Dana knew that Lily struggled with their failure to capture Legion. It was probably the first time she had been outwitted by another demon. “So what did you want to tell me about our Vlad-cicle?”

“Come.” She gestured for Dana to follow. The zombie followed Zel to her alchemy lab where several potions were in the process of being distilled by a pair of apprentices. They continued their work as Zel pulled a journal from her bag and then slid a microscope over to Dana.

“You’ll see it for yourself,” Zel said as she opened a nearby drawer and pulled out a slide with a drop of blood on it. Dana waited for the centaur to mount the slide before she looked down into the eyepiece.

“What am I…oh.” The blood cells were red and vibrant in the light of the microscope. “When did you collect this?”

“Yesterday. I carved a couple of pieces off that corpse and brought them here to thaw. Each one of those cells is like a tiny battery. I even had Ratu do a couple of tests.” Zel pushed her journal open to reveal a drawing she had made. “Based on some preliminary information, I think we’ve found you a food source far more efficient than Mike’s cum.”

“Interesting.” Dana scratched at her chin. “So I could eat Timotei when I need a little boost?”

“Well, yes and no. For one thing, your vampyr is a limited resource. Unless you want to put his head and body back together and see if he’ll regenerate, you’re gonna eventually run out of your stock at the South Pole.”

“Hmm.” With Reggie’s help, they had created a deep freezer beneath an abandoned research station and stored Timotei’s body there while Timotei’s head was locked in a steel box in the Vault. Despite decapitation and being stabbed through the heart, the vampyr’s body was constantly trying to repair the damage. Seeing a research opportunity, both Zel and Ratu had advocated on Dana’s behalf to study the creature before it completely expired. Since Timotei had lapsed into a dreamless sleep, he at least wasn’t feeling any pain. “What else did you want to say?”

“It’s about you. After your issues post-cannibalizing the Nirumbi, I took some blood samples and kept them on hand. I made sure to take a new sample after you told me about eating vampyr flesh and compared them.” Zel slid her journal across to Dana. “Based on the data I have here, your body’s composition is changing based on what you put into it. I never really found a trend when you were just eating Mike’s magic juice, but this? It’s like you’re something else entirely.”

“You got all that from my blood?” Dana pondered the journal.

“Ratu helped,” Zel admitted. “She can measure things a microscope can’t see.”

“Huh. So I’m becoming a vampyr?”

Zel shook her head. “Not quite. But you’re becoming something. Whenever you decide to chow down on somebody, my assumption is that you may retain a small part of them forever. Or maybe it works itself out eventually, I honestly don’t know. But you said your mental state has stabilized since this?”

Dana nodded. Ever since the battle at the church, she had yet to experience a flashback.

“Well, that’s something. Right now, you’re balanced. You keep eating that vampyr’s body, though? Who knows what will happen to you.”

“I see.” Dana stepped away from the alchemy table. “Thank you, then. For everything.”

“Of course.” Zel smiled warmly and gestured away from the village. “Now go home and try to keep all your limbs attached for at least a week, if you could.”

“You got it, doc.” Dana walked out of the camp, pondering this latest development. Zel had pretty much confirmed what Dana already suspected; eating others was granting her a modicum of their power. But like always, she knew there would be a cost.

Her stomach gurgled, the result of restoring a severed digit. She was still days out from needing something to eat, but thinking about Timotei made her hungry. When she walked into the kitchen, she nodded at Sofia who was in the middle of making tortillas. The tall cyclops smiled in her direction, and Dana suddenly wondered if the Head Librarian had ever had a thing for women.

Interesting, she thought as she opened up the fridge. The stray sexual thought about the cyclops had caught her off guard. Typically she only had those after eating. Staring into the fridge, she saw her regular food down below, tucked away in clearly marked shot glasses. Yet she wanted something a bit more substantial, meatier even. Closing the door of the fridge, she wandered out to the garage and unlocked the door that led to Antarctica. Stepping through, she pulled the dagger free from her waistband as she contemplated the headless corpse strapped to the table. Until it had frozen solid, the damned thing had flailed mindlessly around.

Using the Order’s dagger, she sliced a strip of bicep away and stuck it in her mouth like a meat lollipop. Though it was rock hard, it softened enough in the warmth of her mouth that she could properly bite down and hold it in place. Vampyr tasted like smoked brisket with slightly burnt edges. Dana’s mouth flooded with saliva as she sucked on the meat, letting the flavor trickle down the back of her throat. Though it was tempting to remain beneath the polar ice all day eating a vampyr, Dana decided that taking it slow would give her time to figure out the price for doing so. For now, she would have to settle for a quick bite and the good vibes that would follow.

Walking through the house, she hurried past the others, unwilling to answer any questions about what she was chewing. She practically sprinted up the stairs to return to the observatory, waving at the local rat guard in passing.

Standing there beneath the massive mechanical array, she consumed the vampyr’s flesh, her jaw working hard to break it down before she swallowed. Already, a wave of warmth and strength shifted through her body, followed by a small flood of emotion tied to Tasia.

“I need to be strong enough,” Dana muttered as she picked up the broken gear. “Just in case she needs me.” Looking up at the array again, she felt that trickle of warmth pass through her whole body in a chain reaction. Gazing at the machine above as if it was a field of stars, she dropped the gear on the ground and let out a gasp. She felt her mind shifting through the assembly, making connections and insights that had eluded her before. A mental overlay formed, allowing her to see how the mechanism was originally designed and how it could be improved. Revelations and excitement built as she clasped her hands to her chest.

“We’ve been building it wrong,” she said as she walked over to the master diagram. Though her and Tink’s design made sense mechanically, there was something they had missed, something far more abstract about the way the observatory had been built. A light bulb had finally turned on inside her brain, sparking to life just long enough to chase away the darkness.

Humming a quiet song to herself, Dana threw the master diagram on the floor and got to work creating a new design.

---

Legion sat near the back of the airport bar, casually stirring her cocktail while glancing through her phone. There still wasn’t any word about the church incident in the mainstream media, which meant somebody had covered it up. The demon chalked that up to the Order. Somehow, they had gotten involved, and Legion would put good money that the Curator’s lackey was responsible. With the Curator’s own involvement, it would be far easier to erase any incriminating details from the inside.

Sighing, Legion sat back and surveyed the bar. It was late, and only a couple more flights were leaving. The patrons of this establishment ranged from businessmen to a small family just trying to catch a bite to eat. Legion’s own flight had been canceled earlier in the day, but that’s just how life went when you relied on humans. Luckily, there had been one more flight later in the evening and Legion could be very persuasive.

Closing her eyes, Legion reached out to the other people with her mind to see if she could glean anything interesting. Other than a couple of people cheating on their spouses, there was nothing noteworthy. Sometimes, humans could be so boring.

With all of her extra bodies gone, Legion had to exercise an enormous amount of caution from here on out. Deacon had been the perfect minion, not only providing Legion with a young, healthy body, but also allowing the demon to hide in plain sight. After centuries of living as a human, Legion had learned quickly that her own personal pride required tempering, and that survival was paramount to any and all of her plans. Returning to Hell now would earn Lucifer’s personal attention, and would likely require Legion to spill the beans on how she’d come close to succeeding in her quest to return to Heaven.

This thought angered Legion enough that a shadow in the corner of the room growled in response. Though it was little more than a physical manifestation of the demon’s wrath, it had been loud enough that others heard it. A couple of patrons looked at the corner with curiosity, but quickly turned away once there was nothing to be seen. Frowning, Legion took a few deep breaths in order to calm herself. Once she was out of the country, she could take the next step toward rebuilding, but was uncertain where to find somebody nearly as useful as Deacon had been.

One by one, the patrons left. There were only a few people left in the bar, and many of the nearby gates had gone dark. Legion faded into the scenery to the point that even some of the servers in the restaurant had forgotten about the young woman sitting there.

It was about twenty minutes before Legion’s flight started boarding when she heard a deep voice speak from nearby.

“May I join you?” A massive figure stepped from the shadows and slid into the seat across from her, then took off his hat and set it on the table.

Legion frowned, but said nothing. Despite cutting and dying her hair, as well as wearing a provocative outfit, she knew that no disguise in the world could have hidden her from the Curator himself.

“It’s a free country,” she said, then licked her lips nervously. If the Curator had come to capture her, she might get lucky and manage to escape, but it would come with all sorts of attention she didn’t want. And if she was realistic, her odds of succeeding were practically zero.

“That’s the illusion anyway.” The Curator leaned forward and studied her for a moment.

“Are those new eyes?” she asked. “They used to be a different color.”

“They are, thanks for noticing.” A corner of his mouth rose. “I had to carve out the old ones. I got something in them.”

Legion nodded. “I guess it’s a good thing you had spares on hand.”

The Curator nodded. “I always have spares on hand. But I’m not here to talk about me. I’m here to talk about you.”

“How did you get in here?” she asked. “I didn’t see you coming.”

“I came in on my private jet.” He tilted his head toward the window. “Wanted to speak to you directly.”

“About?” Legion tried to keep calm, but her hands were shaking.

The Curator opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when Legion’s server came to the table.

“We’re closing up soon, so last call,” she said, then looked at the Curator. “Can I get you anything?”

“I am not thirsty,” he replied.

“I’m good as well,” said Legion, then handed over a pair of twenties. “I’ll settle up now.”

The server took the money and then walked a few steps away before looking back at Legion. “Are you okay?” she mouthed, then pointed at the Curator.

Legion nodded, then sent out a mental pulse toward the server. The woman promptly forgot about them and wandered off, the money still clutched in her hand.

“An interesting trick,” said the Curator.

“Well, you can’t have it,” Legion replied. It was the same trick she’d used all her life, the ability to remain unseen and easily forgotten. Being a famous pastor’s daughter had given her great practice and she was very good at it. Even the succubus had been susceptible, and that was no small feat. “And even if you could carve it out of me, you wouldn’t like the limitations.”

He nodded solemnly. “A lesson I learned long ago, yet still far too late.”

“Let’s cut to the chase. I may be immortal, but I still have places to be.” Legion finished her drink and set it down on the table. “You came for me.”

“I did. But how you work doesn’t currently interest me. Your vessel wouldn’t survive the process, and I wouldn’t learn anything that carving up your minions hasn’t taught me already.”

“I’m aware.” Legion scowled. After the church exploded, her consciousness had been spread across eight other meat suits. The Curator tracked them all down in record time, then dissected them while they were still alive. Legion felt every moment of their pain as she fled toward the west coast, knowing every sacrifice bought her precious hours. “So what do you want from me?”

“You.” The Curator pulled a folder out of his pocket and slid it across. “You see, I’ve recently discovered someone that I find very interesting.”

“Tough break for them.” Legion took the folder from the Curator and opened it. She looked over the top of the thick cardstock and frowned. “So what, is this guy some sort of warlock or something?”

“A few years ago, he was just an ordinary man. Now? Let’s just say that I have a hunch about him. Do you remember Amir?”

Legion scoffed. “Of course I do. I tried to work with him once, but he has a weird hard-on for demons.”

“An apt description. This man somehow managed to hurt him and take down most of his cabal in one fell swoop.”

Legion whistled. “Okay, that actually impresses me.”

“Good. Because, you see, I want your help.” The Curator grinned, which somehow made his bloodless face seem even more sinister. “I’m putting together a team and need powerful individuals such as yourself to assist me in this endeavor.”

“Over this guy?”

The Curator nodded. “I have my reasons for believing this man may be the key to my research.”

That statement made Legion shiver. If the Curator truly thought this, then Mike Radley was a dead man walking.

“What if I refuse?” she asked.

“Then you get on your plane and hope to never cross my path again.” The Curator fixed her with a stare. “Your pet vampyr slipped her reins when daddy tried to teach her how to hunt. How many people died in that nightclub? The Order’s investigation would have inevitably led them to you, and thus, to me. You were lucky I had someone on the inside, but even that was a card you forced me to play too soon. The mistakes your people made cost me time and energy that would have been better spent elsewhere. So should we ever cross paths down the road, I would likely remember how cross I am with you. However,” the Curator held up a finger and pointed out the nearest window. “If you get on my plane instead, I will fully fund whatever endeavor you wish to pursue.”

Legion licked her lips and felt her heart rate jump. “I don’t want to be locked into your project based on success,” she said. 

“Heaven forbid.” The Curator smiled at his little joke. “If you assist me with this, then I will make sure you have whatever you need. No limitations. As long as you come running when I request your services, this partnership of ours will be just fine.”

The intercom in the bar crackled to life, and a bored desk agent announced that Legion’s flight was ready for boarding. The demon almost laughed at the timing, but knew that was probably intentional on the Curator’s part. He was essentially offering her a chance to start over without requiring decades of resource building. She would be a fool to decline.

“So what will it be?” he asked.

Legion chuckled to herself and stood. “It sounds like I’ve got a flight to catch.” She grabbed her bags and waited for a thin frown to form on the Curator’s face. A storm was brewing behind the man’s brand new eyes, but she wouldn’t hesitate to mess with him just a tiny bit. After all, he may be a mass murderer with no moral compass, but he did have a slight sense of humor. “I assume there’s plenty of legroom on that plane of yours?”

The Curator grinned.

---

Aileen stared wistfully at the fridge, her stomach rumbling. The last of the leftovers had run out two days ago, and all that was in there now was a gallon jug of the cheapest orange-flavored water she had been able to find. Sighing, she pulled out her phone to check her emails. She had begged Madame Ogna for extra hours yesterday via email, but the woman hadn’t responded yet.

The witch walked to the kitchen to pick up an empty pitcher. It was dark outside, nearly midnight now. There was still crime scene tape wrapped around the broken railing outside her neighbor’s door. He had come home from the hospital yesterday evening just as she was stepping out of her door, and had deliberately avoided eye contact. 

While Aileen appreciated what Dana and Tasia had done for her, it hadn’t actually solved any problems. The police had been so far up her ass after the assault that Ogna had cut even more of her hours under the pretense of causing a spectacle. The assault had made the news, clearly a replacement for the car chase that the media neglected to mention, even though hundreds of people had witnessed it. The only reason Aileen’s face hadn’t been plastered all over the television was because Ogna had pulled some strings.

Aileen filled the pitcher with water and walked through her apartment, singing to the plants while she watered them. Leaves turned in her direction as she approached, and every plant reached toward her in gratitude as she hydrated their soil. She took a moment to touch each one and connect with it. Plants weren’t alive in the same sense that animals and humans were, but she could easily interpret the alien thoughts that came from them.

“If only I had a greenhouse,” she muttered. Maybe then she could have planted some food. Trying to ignore that hollow feeling in her gut, when the doorbell rang she jumped and nearly dropped her pitcher.

The last time someone came around this late, it was the police on the night of the assault. Her stomach fell as she realized that enough of the lights were on that it was easy for anyone to tell that she was home and most likely awake. What if it was one of her neighbor’s buddies, come back for revenge? Or maybe Ogna was stopping by to let her know in person that she was out of a job.

“Miss Durant?” The feminine voice at the door was unfamiliar. “May I have a word?”

“Well, at least my murderer is polite,” she groused as she set her pitcher down and slid a ceremonial dagger up her sleeve on her way to the door. Though her personal mantra was to do no harm, she was allowed to protect herself if her life was in danger.

When she opened the door, it revealed a woman with alabaster skin and raven hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. She wore thick, black rimmed glasses that seemed too big for her face. Those details were paltry compared to the enormous wheelchair her visitor sat in. It looked brand new, the metal glossy and unmarred by scratches. It was a motorized model, but looked unusually big in the back, making her think of the motorized carts at every department store.

“Sorry for the late night visit,” said the stranger with a grin. She held out an envelope. “This is for you.”

“What is it?” Aileen took the envelope, but continued to study the stranger. Her aura was different than anyone Aileen had ever met, and she could sense the hint of a glamor spell, but couldn’t figure out where it originated.

“My friends were here a few days ago. You helped them.” The woman leaned forward in her chair. “My name is Eulalie Weaver. A pleasure.”

Aileen frowned, but shook the woman’s hand. She could sense an unnerving amount of strength in Eulalie, and knew the dagger would be worthless.

“Your friends caused me trouble,” she said, then stepped away from the door. “Would you like to come inside?”

“No thanks. Um…my chair might not fit.” Eulalie made a face. “Besides, this is a quick visit. I heard you were having some trouble with the locals.”

Aileen snorted. “Understatement,” she replied.

“Well, I’ve got good news.” Eulalie gestured at the envelope. “Inside, you’ll find a plane ticket and some other documents. Starting next week, you’ll be the new librarian in the town of Fossil Reef, Wyoming.”

“I’m being…reassigned?” Aileen opened the envelope. Sure enough, a plane ticket was inside, as well as several other documents. Her hand shook as she pulled them out.

“Not quite. You’re being poached.” Eulalie smirked. “You see, starting next week, you work for me.”

Aileen frowned. “I don’t…I mean, I’m flattered, but…that’s kind of a huge risk for me.”

“You’re right. It is.” Eulalie bumped the knob on her chair, which caused it to swerve. She fidgeted with the knob until the chair was straight once more. “I’ve already worked things out with your head…witch-type people. You will still be doing exactly what you’ve been doing here, only you won’t be starving to death.”

Aileen’s cheeks burned. “It has gotten pretty bad,” she admitted.

Eulalie nodded. “I’m doing this in part because I owe you. But I’m also doing it because it’s the right thing to do.”

Aileen fidgeted with the envelope. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes. The keys in the bottom of that envelope are for your new place. It’s not a rental, by the way. It’s all yours.”

“This…this is…” Aileen bit her lip to damn up the tears starting to form. “How?”

“Because I’m rich and in need of good people should I ever need them.” Eulalie turned her chair around. “So, do you accept?”

“Yes.” Aileen’s voice was barely a squeak. “I accept.”

“Good. You might want to get to bed, though. Movers will be here first thing in the morning. I’ll call you in a few days to see how you’ve settled in. Oh, and one last thing. Did some research on the area.” She gestured toward the police tape. “I can’t guarantee you won’t encounter shit like this, but it won’t be nearly as bad. And if it ever does happen again, I’ll be just a call away. Anyway, good night.” Eulalie pushed the lever on her chair and rolled down the hallway toward the elevator.

Stunned, Aileen shut the door and went to her dining room to pour out the contents of the envelope. A prepaid credit card with a thousand dollars on it came out first, followed by several documents. The last thing to slide out was a pair of house keys with an address written on the keychain.

“Is this for real?” she asked, her voice a whisper. Holding up the keys, she closed her eyes and offered a quick prayer of thanks to the goddess. Tucking the keys in her pocket, she grabbed the gift card and headed for the door. Sleep was good, but a midnight snack would be even better. The hollow void in her belly was far too distracting to sleep with.

It wasn’t until she was halfway to the stairs that she remembered her apartment building didn’t actually have an elevator.