ã€ŠSun of Mourningã€‹


 Chapter One | The Council

    I should be grateful that things are moving as planned, but there¡¯s a sense of dread that taints what should be a moment of triumph. As far as I know, there hasn¡¯t been a Council like this in Boston since the initial Treatises were signed. That was way before my time, back when the city was new. Now, six months after Erra was released from his prison, Order HQ is playing host to representatives from the Dearden and O¡¯Ceallaigh vampire covens, as well as the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. As I make my way to the conference room on the sixth floor, I mull over all the things I want to voice during this meeting.

    All of which are centered on Henry.

    Not everyone is invited into the conference room, there¡¯s simply not enough space, but the Technical Department has set it to broadcast locally through headquarters, with enough encryption and enchantments on the feed that there¡¯s no chance even the most skilled mundane hacker will break in. Not that I can imagine one targeting us, to the rest of the world we¡¯re just some bland office that does something or other with little effect on the masses. Still, there¡¯s a sense of envy from some of my fellow Centurions I pass on my way to the conference room. I¡¯m invited because Chief Glass is still trying to push me into his position. I know he¡¯ll be retiring in the near future, likely as soon as Erra is dealt with. The only thing is¡­I don¡¯t want his job. Chief Glass rarely gets out into the field, he¡¯s too busy coordinating the Centurions with the Sentinel, Incantator, and Technical Departments. Besides, Chiaki Ito would be a much better choice in my opinion. She hasn¡¯t said anything about it, but I¡¯m sure she would agree.

    I would think the Fae representatives would be the first to earn my gaze as I step into the room, but I¡¯m too surprised to see Alejandro Castillo and Brianna Walker present that everyone else might as well not be here. Sheldon has a particularly harsh vendetta against Castillo. I think it¡¯s less to do with him being a crime boss and more to do with the city of Boston recognizing the Alpha¡¯s efforts in restoring South Boston. I think Sheldon thinks that Castillo didn¡¯t deserve it, despite him funding and providing most of the laborers for the renewal.

    ¡°Well, hey there,¡± I say, scooting over to where the werewolves stand.

    ¡°Buenas noches, Riley,¡± Castillo replies.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­good to see you,¡± I mean it too, which is not something I could say for some people present in the room.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised to see you,¡± Brianna admits. ¡°Here. In your headquarters. I thought for sure we wouldn¡¯t get the invite.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, same here. I guess someone went behind Sheldon¡¯s back.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the one who contacted us,¡± Castillo replies.

    ¡°The mysteries continue,¡± I mutter. ¡°I¡¯m also kinda surprised you said yes.¡±

    ¡°For Henry,¡± Castillo¡¯s voice takes an edge.

    After leaving the black market half a year ago, I found myself going to Castillo¡¯s place in Back Bay. He was surprised to see me, but he let me in. He just as quickly revoked my invitation after I explained what happened to Henry, his anger at the Order¡¯s interference in things requiring immediate solitude so he didn¡¯t ¡®do something he would later regret,¡¯ as he put it. I couldn¡¯t blame him then, if Sheldon had just let me meet with Henry as planned instead of arresting him, we could have avoided everything that followed. Judging by Castillo¡¯s hard gaze following Sheldon, I know the animosity between the two has only gotten thicker.

    ¡°Mm-hm, for Henry,¡± Brianna agrees. ¡°Now you just make sure none of your Centurions get trigger-happy.¡±

    ¡°They¡­yeah, all right,¡± I say, noticing her challenging look. I don¡¯t think the Order would dare attack the representatives in this setting, but I know Brianna has good reason to suspect them of violence.

    Now that my initial astonishment fades, I look to the other representatives, and I¡¯m shocked all over again when I see who answered the summons. I figured we¡¯d get lackeys, instead I¡¯m recognizing faces from the files the Order keeps on the supernatural community. At the far end of the conference hall, there¡¯s a petite woman. She looks like a Disney princess come to life, with soft features, overly large eyes, and flowing silvery-blue hair. Her face sparkles, as if her features were painted with stardust, visible only when the light caught it a certain way. Her gown is laden with exotic flowers, tastefully arranged along the skirts and billowy sleeves. Upon her head she wears a golden crown shaped in the form of branches, with ivory flowers inlaid on the sides. The Queen of the Seelie Court has never ventured into Order headquarters, and yet I recognize Aine from the dossier we have on her.

    Next to her stands her First Knight, Diarmuid, resplendent in light armor that glimmers like the surface of a lake in the sunshine. A bas-relief of a great tree is imprinted on the chest-piece, with smaller versions lining the pauldrons. A large sword is sheathed upon his back. Like the queen, his skin is a golden hue with hints of green, and his features are also sharply defined. He is beautiful, but alien. Both recognizable by our shared features, and yet unnervingly different too.

    The Unseelie Queen is also present, and whereas Aine bolsters a sense of renewal, spring after a long winter, Queen Keyara is that winter. She looks frigid, and not just for the pale blue hue of her skin, but for the jutting chin and prominent brow that looks like chiseled ice, and the inky black of her sharp eyes. She wears a dress that looks like brambles, and her dark hair is done up in such a severe looking updo that I can¡¯t help wondering how her scalp must feel and if that¡¯s the main reason for the pinched expression.

    Orpheus, the Knight who accompanies her, is also pretty much the opposite of Aine¡¯s Knight. Where Diarmuid is upright and noble to a fault, the Unseelie Knight lurches slightly, quick eyes darting around the room like he¡¯s planning a strike. His dark hair hangs loose over his shoulders, and his black armor resembles a scorpion¡¯s shell.

    Both Court representatives keep to themselves, but I see the Vampires of the Dearden Coven speaking to Sheldon and Ulysses. Their leader, Willow Greene, is stunning. She¡¯s tall, lithe, and wears a modern cocktail dress that really accentuates her curves. She¡¯s also wearing a pair of heels that look like they second as weapons. Chestnut brown hair rolls down her back in thick waves, while her eyes are accentuated with eyeliner and shadow and her lips are covered in a bright red lipstick. As I observe her, hazel eyes suddenly find me and she smirks ever-so-slightly before resuming her conversation. Actually, I¡¯m not sure if she looked at me or if I only imagined it, but I¡¯m feeling like a creep just staring at her so, with effort, I look at her companion.

    I don¡¯t know his name, and I wonder if he¡¯s new to the coven or just low enough down the hierarchy that we don¡¯t have a file on him. He looks every bit the vampire you¡¯d see in a movie. Shaggy black hair, androgynous features, vibrant blue eyes, pale skin, wearing a leather jacket with patches sewn haphazardly onto it with logos of various bands. A white V-neck t-shirt that shows off the large Pentagram necklace he¡¯s sporting, and completing the outfit with tight, ripped jeans and military boots. I¡¯m going to guess he¡¯s a Damien, or a Tristan.

    The O¡¯Ceallaighs look like they¡¯ve stepped out of ancient times, but it¡¯s not entirely the physical appearance so much as it¡¯s the look in green eyes. Those are eyes that have seen the world turn over more than once. They¡¯re both tall and muscular, with long red hair tied back from the face with intricate braids. While they dress in modern clothes, one in a Henley and jeans, the other in sweater and slacks, I can easily picture them in furs and warpaint. Bryn O¡¯Ceallaigh and his brother Carwyn have been the leaders of the Coven since its inception, and I¡¯m sure that they¡¯ve been challenged before, but none have succeeded in claiming the title from them.

    There are no representatives from the Moliere Coven.

    As for the Order of Cerberus, there¡¯s me and Chief Glass for the Centurions; Ulysses and his second Heather Rand, for the Incantatores; Chief Candance Oliver and Quinton Melville for the Sentinels; Chief Yoland Mathis and Janet Beckett for the Technical Department; and of course, Joseph Sheldon.

    He concludes his conversation with the Dearden vampires and approaches the head of the long table that takes most of the space in the conference room. ¡°Let us begin,¡± he says.

    There¡¯s shuffling as everyone chooses their seats. The Fae don¡¯t want to sit near the vampires, who are known to get impulsive when they smell Fae blood, so they sit at one end of the table while the vampires claim the other. Castillo and Sheldon shouldn¡¯t be near one another, so the werewolves sit on the opposite side of the Fae while the rest of us intersperse where there¡¯s room. I end up sitting next to Brianna, and across from Knight Diarmuid.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°I want to thank you for being here,¡± Sheldon resumes once everyone¡¯s settled. ¡°As we¡¯re all aware, Erra has returned, yet I know for many of you that statement holds little meaning, and it is the desecration of Margadh Si¨®g that brings you here,¡± there¡¯s a murmur of assent.  ¡°Erra is Pestilence, War, and Chaos. These are his aspects,¡± there¡¯s something distant in Sheldon¡¯s cold eyes now, and I wonder again at his familiarity with Erra. ¡°Long ago these aspects nearly led to the ruin of all, just as they did six months ago in the market.¡±

    Although Erra didn¡¯t attack us outright when we finally caught up to him and the Fae in the black market, we soon learned that his return was not without casualties. Our late arrival saved those in the Order who went to confront him, but many in Margadh Si¨®g weren¡¯t as lucky. From my understanding, a lot of residents of the market died outright when Erra returned, stricken with a wicked affliction that choked the life out of them. And in the months that followed, we continually received reports of others suffering horrible illnesses. Their prognoses were grim.

    ¡°Our kin suffered such a fate,¡± Queen Aine says solemnly. ¡°The Tuatha De Danann were slaughtered by this foul beast many ages past.¡±

    ¡°As were many of our clan,¡± Bryn O¡¯Ceallaigh remarks. ¡°Those he did not manage to sway to his cause were destroyed.¡±

    ¡°There was also the sacking of Babylon, and the many mundanes lost in that campaign,¡± Ulysses adds.

    ¡°His power is volatile and effective against all of us,¡± Keyara says. ¡°There¡¯s the poison of his touch, the blistering heat of the sun, the charisma that is nearly impossible to deny.¡±

    Based on the reactions of those familiar with Erra, I¡¯m not going to get much help in deciding how to extract him from Henry. I¡¯m getting the feeling they wouldn¡¯t want to risk it; immediate destruction is the route they¡¯re angling for. Still, I can at least try.

    ¡°What about the relic?¡± I ask. ¡°Can¡¯t we trap his essence in there again?¡±

    ¡°The means to create it are lost,¡± Sheldon replies, shrewd look indicating he knows exactly why I¡¯m asking. ¡°And he will be wary of such a tactic after so long in the dark. I imagine he would sooner destroy everything than risk being locked away again.¡±

    ¡°So, he is trouble, s¨ª? We get the picture,¡± Castillo cuts in bluntly. ¡°What is he doing now?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s finally resurfaced,¡± Chief Yoland replies. ¡°My analysts have been scouring the entire East Coast for movement and we got a hit just a few days ago. It looks as though he¡¯s purchased property in New York City. The, uh, most expensive penthouse in the city. There were a few stories about it in their local papers and magazines. So, wherever he¡¯s been these past six months, it looks like he¡¯s done with staying completely under the radar. He¡¯s going by Henry Stone,¡± his eyes find me and I¡¯m doing everything I can not to visibly react to this statement. ¡°And claiming smart investments were the key to his financial success, but we haven¡¯t traced any actual investments, so I believe it¡¯s safe to assume this is wealth Erra had in reserve.¡±

    ¡°If he is making waves in the mundane world, it may precede his recruiting them to his cause,¡± Queen Keyara says. ¡°As he did once upon a time, he will claim the hearts and minds of all by offering them something they believe they cannot do without. When so many are dependent on the services he provides, he will reveal his true intent.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of speculation, so let me throw my own into the ring. I think he¡¯s done more than just resurface, I think he may have something to do with the Moliere Coven,¡± Willow says.

    ¡°How do you mean?¡± Sheldon asks.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it your job to stay on top of these things?¡± Willow asks. ¡°You are meant to protect our communities too, right?¡± she lets this hang there for an uncomfortable minute before she resumes. ¡°The Moliere Coven has shut its doors; none have been seen since Charlemagne¡¯s disappearance, which just so happens to coincide with Erra¡¯s coming. If we want to learn what other nefarious schemes this Erra is up to, perhaps the Order can start there.¡±

    ¡°Charlemagne is definitely involved with Erra somehow,¡± I sigh. I didn¡¯t plan on sharing what I knew concerning the coven leader and Henry, but if I want to save Henry, I need to know everything there possibly is to know, and coveting information isn¡¯t going to help me. At the questioning looks thrown my way, I clear my throat. ¡°Erra came back through Henry,¡± I look at our guests when I say this, looking for confusion if they assumed ¡®Henry¡¯ was simply the alias Erra¡¯s using today. Evidently, they¡¯ve been briefed on that because no one asks what I¡¯m talking about. ¡°Before that happened, Henry told me that Charlemagne admitted to being his sire.¡±

    ¡°Charlemagne doesn¡¯t sire vampires,¡± Willow scoffs.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± I reply. ¡°That¡¯s what makes it stand out. He must have known that the Bishops were trying to use Henry to bring back Erra, and wanted to throw himself into the mix. I just don¡¯t know why.¡±

    ¡°Power,¡± Castillo says darkly. His expression is neutral though, so I can¡¯t really tell how he¡¯s taking the news that Henry¡¯s sire is the vampire he seems to hate the most. Castillo¡¯s a practical man, I¡¯m sure he won¡¯t blame Henry for something that was completely out of his control.

    ¡°Most likely,¡± Bryn agrees. ¡°The bond between maker and child runs deep. Be that as it may, however, we can surmise his plans failed since it would appear he¡¯s been destroyed. This is yet another reason the Moliere Coven should be investigated.¡±

    ¡°I could head up a team,¡± I volunteer.

    Sheldon looks irate at my decision, or maybe he¡¯s just irate that I didn¡¯t immediately tell him about Charlemagne and Henry. I also hear Chief Glass groan quietly, suggesting that my quick response is a mistake. I don¡¯t care, I need to get out there and the Moliere Coven seems to be as good a place to start as any.

    ¡°Very well, I¡¯ll assign a team after we conclude this meeting,¡± Sheldon replies, doing an impressive job of sounding impartial over the whole thing. ¡°What¡¯s important now is that we maintain communication with each other. Erra has not declared war yet, but if we want to survive, we need to work together.¡±

    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the ones who like to shoot first and ask questions later,¡± Brianna scoffs. ¡°Think we forgot about what happened in South Boston?¡±

    There¡¯s another murmur of agreement from our guests.

    ¡°We have no time for this!¡± Sheldon replies sharply. ¡°Now more than ever we need unity. We will discuss perceived transgressions when this threat is eliminated.¡±

    ¡°Perceived,¡± Brianna grumbles to herself, shaking her head.

    Castillo¡¯s expression is also cold and I¡¯m suddenly uncomfortable being in such proximity to him when it looks like the beast may burst forth at any moment. His dark eyes find mine, there¡¯s a question in them, but one he¡¯s not going to ask in front of the council. I know it¡¯s a question about Henry, and I try to convey with my look alone that this elimination Sheldon speaks of is not what I¡¯m after. Enough of it gets through, because that bristling energy recedes from the werewolf.

    ¡°We should have representatives in a neutral meeting ground,¡± Queen Aine says. ¡°Since Margadh Si¨®g isn¡¯t viable any longer, I suggest establishing a safehouse here in the city.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Queen Keyara adds.

    ¡°Works for me,¡± Willow says. ¡°Just let us know where it is when it¡¯s done.¡±

    Bryn, Castillo, and Sheldon also agree to using a safehouse. In the meantime, Sheldon explains that the Technical Department will continue analyzing the situation in terms of the mundane world, while the Sentinels will focus their efforts on seeing Erra. Both Fae Courts will have eyes and ears on the lookout to ensure Erra isn¡¯t gathering an army on the sly, while the vampires will consult with one another and share old resources that might illuminate more weaknesses in their foe. Castillo offers wolves to also watch the mundane world from the streets, while another portion of his large pack will track Erra¡¯s activities in the supernatural realm. All told, it makes for a decent alliance and while there¡¯s obviously mistrust in the Order, it seems our guests are more interested in Erra than trying to air grievances. Sheldon opens the floor for any further questions, and while a bitter part of me wants to ask what his relationship with Erra is, I hold off. This isn¡¯t the time for it. With that concluded, the representatives are respectfully escorted from headquarters by some of our fiercest Centurion warriors.

    ¡°Averline, stay a moment,¡± Sheldon orders as the rest of the council disperses.

    I sigh inwardly, but remain in my seat. When the room empties, Sheldon laces his fingers together on the table. ¡°You were more reserved than I anticipated,¡± he admits.

    ¡°You said it yourself; this is a time for unity,¡± I reply.

    ¡°I appreciate that, Mr. Averline. Now, as for your investigation¡­I insist you bring an Incantator and a Sentinel with you to the Moliere Coven.¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± I¡¯m not sure how I feel about this tenebrous civility, but I¡¯ll take it over him trying to limit what I can do. ¡°I¡¯d like to assign Centurion Ito to the team as well.¡±

    ¡°Very well. A few more Centurions too, to be safe. We do not know what awaits you at the coven house.¡±

    I nod, wondering suddenly if he¡¯s seen something and is knowingly sending me to my demise and that¡¯s the reason he¡¯s being so cooperative for a change. No. He¡¯s a bastard, but I don¡¯t think even he would go so far as to purposefully get anyone in the Order killed.

    ¡°Well? See to it, Mr. Averline. You¡¯re dismissed,¡± he concludes, standing up and leaving me in the conference room.

    I shake my head, still feeling like I¡¯m caught in a whirlwind. Focus on the now, I tell myself. Right now, I only need to speak with a Sentinel and an Incantator. After that, I¡¯ll gather a couple Centurions and we¡¯ll all go to the Moliere Coven. Hopefully to get answers rather than more questions.

 Chapter Two | Ashes to Ashes

    I generally avoid Weston because of Charlemagne and my meeting with him nearly two years ago now. Despite how much I have changed because of HRT, top surgery, and more importantly self-confidence in myself, I will never forget that feeling of being scrutinized, a mere insect under a microscope, just to satisfy his curiosity. Five days after the council meeting, however, and I¡¯m out of excuses on how to delay the investigation any further. I did want my team prepared, and that meant gathering the right equipment and working with the Sentinels and Technical Department to get a better picture of what¡¯s been going on in Weston. There¡¯s nothing in the regular news to suggest a great attack happened, and none of the Sentinels glean any sort of vision that indicates foul play. With nothing to really go on, it¡¯s up to us to find out whatever answers we can ourselves.

    My team includes Chiaki; Centurions Jade Nanette, Lloyd Carrington, and Kyle West; Incantator Heather Rand; and Sentinel James Boyd. Boyd will remain in the van that he parks outside the manor gates, attempting to keep the sight open in case he can head off any surprises. The rest of us will spread out across the grounds and the mansion itself to look for clues. As we walk up the drive, I can¡¯t say I see anything that looks out of place. The grounds are still well maintained, and the mansion itself is as impressive as ever. Pristine, all the windows are intact, the nearby garage boasts several luxury cars that all look brand new.

    With a frown, I direct Jade and Lloyd to continue a sweep of the grounds. Kyle and Heather go around to the back to find another entrance into the mansion. They¡¯ll be searching through the east wing while Chiaki and I go towards the main entrance with plans to go through the west wing. When we get to the main doors, I ring the bell, feeling antsy as no one answers. ¡°Last time I was here, one of the thralls came out,¡± I say to Chiaki.

    ¡°It¡¯s still an hour where that will probably be the case,¡± she replies, glancing up at the light blue sky.

    Except, no one does answer. I ring the bell one more time, but I know if there¡¯s active thralls, they would have heard it. Maybe they¡¯re under instruction not to open the door. ¡°How are you with picking locks?¡± I ask.

    She looks studious and reaches for the door handle, surprising us both when it twists easily in her grip and admits us both inside. ¡°I guess you¡¯ll never know,¡± she says with a light smile. The smile doesn¡¯t last long, however, because while the outside of the Moliere Coven¡¯s home looks fine, the inside is decimated. It looks like the macabre version of a wacky playhouse; the floors are warped and uneven, expensive sculptures are melted like wilted flowers, walls have long cracks running along them, and among the debris are remains. I see a foot, and a spine¡­remnants of the human thralls who once lived here.

    ¡°What the fuck?¡± I mutter.

    ¡°We¡­we should look for survivors,¡± Chiaki suggests, although she doesn¡¯t sound at all hopeful.

    I¡¯m not hopeful either. From what we can see, the entire mansion seems to have been blasted with astounding heat. Still, we pick our way carefully through the hallways, observing the various pools of melted tile and plaster. Everything is hardened and cooled, this isn¡¯t something that happened recently, but this must have taken a lot of power. How did no one see or feel anything while an entire vampire coven, arguably the most powerful one in the region, was wiped out?

    ¡°Vampires too,¡± I say grimly as we enter a large bedroom. There are no actual beds in this room, but there are some once-impressive armoires and the outline of broken and burned coffins within. The white ash scattered across the floor is all that remains of the vampires who slept here. It¡¯s the same everywhere. Ruin and ashes, no signs of life or unlife whatsoever.

    As Chiaki and I make our way to the kitchen at the heart of the mansion we ponder in silence. It¡¯s only when we pause at the island half submerged into the floor that we look at one another again.

    ¡°It fits Erra¡¯s power,¡± I say. ¡°Queen Keyara mentioned intense heat¡­And everything about the state of this place suggests that he and Charlemagne definitely had some kind of conflict. I can only guess Erra came here right after he¡­came back. Remember how confusing that night was at HQ?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Chiaki replies, and I can¡¯t decide if her look of empathy is welcome or not. ¡°All the Sentinels were afflicted with that vision of light, the pendants shattering¡­it makes sense that he could make such an attack without us picking up on it in that case.¡±

    We hear footsteps and look up to see Heather and Kyle walking into the kitchen to join us. Judging by their expressions, they had the same report; no survivors, everything destroyed.

    ¡°The remnants of power here,¡± Heather trembles as she speaks, and looks as if she has a vice around her. ¡°It is staggering¡­The vampires, their thralls, they didn¡¯t even have time to panic.¡±

    ¡°Incantator Rand thinks this happened very quickly,¡± Kyle says. ¡°A flash point then this in a matter of seconds.¡±

    ¡°So, unless the Sentinels can watch him continuously¡­he could do this anywhere before we have a chance to stop him,¡± Chiaki says.

    ¡°Another coven house, or headquarters¡­any mundane city,¡± Kyle confirms.

    ¡°But if he did it in a public setting, he gives himself away,¡± I reply. ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯d spend six months in hiding or whatever, and then shatter all that time for the chance of wanton chaos.¡±

    ¡°How long before he decides he no longer needs to hold back at all?¡± Heather asks.

    ¡°Maybe we should find a mind reader to answer that,¡± I retort. It¡¯s not fair to Heather, but I¡¯m frustrated. We can guess as much as we want, but the fact remains we don¡¯t know enough to even make an educated guess. I¡¯m certain he and Charlemagne were enemies, Charlemagne turning Henry is key to knowing how the vampire was involved at all, but beyond that everything remains in shadow. Because I¡¯m heading up this investigation, however, I need to put that frustration aside ¨C at least in front of the team. ¡°That was rude, sorry,¡± I add, getting an accepting nod from the Incantator. ¡°Let¡¯s reconnect with Lloyd and Jade, maybe they found something along the grounds.¡±

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    We make our way out of the mansion, and the well-manicured lawn looks completely bizarre after walking through the melted, obliterated interior of the coven house. We find the Centurions behind the mansion, exiting a shed that looks like it may rival my home¡¯s square footage. ¡°Did you find anything?¡± I ask.

    ¡°The shed is a front,¡± Lloyd replies. ¡°There¡¯s an entrance inside to a bunker, one with coffins.¡±

    ¡°None of them in use though,¡± Jade adds. ¡°And it looks like no one¡¯s been down there for a while.¡±

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s dead,¡± I sigh. ¡°Thralls and vampires¡­Incantator Rand says they didn¡¯t have any time, any warning.¡±

    ¡°Certainly not enough to make it to the bunker,¡± Heather agrees.

    ¡°Any sign of Charlemagne?¡± Lloyd asks.

    ¡°No,¡± Chiaki answers. ¡°It¡¯s likely he was destroyed along with the coven.¡±

    ¡°Damn. I always thought someone like him would have a more¡­dramatic death,¡± Lloyd replies.

    ¡°It also means Erra could wipe out the other two covens with little problem then,¡± Jade murmurs.

    ¡°I think there was a prior conflict between him and Charlemagne though,¡± I reply. ¡°But I¡¯m not completely sure, so we can¡¯t rule out the possibility that he¡¯ll target the other covens in the future. We need to return to headquarters, I don¡¯t think we¡¯re going to find anything else here, and we should get a cleanup crew around before any mundanes see the inside of the mansion.¡±

    It''s a solemn affair returning to headquarters. While I didn''t know any of the vampires at the Moliere Coven, I''m still grieving the loss of so many lives. I''m grieving the thought of Henry being aware of what''s going on, an unwilling participant in slaughter. I have to shake it off as we step off the elevator, however. I need to give my report to Sheldon, and while he may have been cooperative in my going to the coven in the first place, I wouldn''t put it past him to bench me for being too "emotionally invested" in things. To be fair, it wouldn''t be an incorrect assessment.

    My companions from the investigation all exit the elevator before it reaches the top floor, and I go down the hallway towards Sheldon¡¯s office alone. I knock on the door, wait for him to summon me inside, and step into the office.

    ¡°Averline?¡± he prompts.

    ¡°I¡¯m here to give my report on the Moliere Coven,¡± I begin before I explain what we found. Namely, more death. It¡¯s not exactly like the market though, because the coven was targeted while those who died when Erra returned seemed to just be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sheldon looks thoughtful as my report concludes, assessing the information.

    ¡°Charlemagne thought to use his position as Stone¡¯s sire to have control over Erra,¡± he finally says. ¡°A Sire will always have some control over his progeny, and given how powerful Charlemagne is ¨C or was ¨C it makes sense he would think his influence would affect Erra.¡±

    ¡°Which explains why Erra would want him gone,¡± I agree. My heart is pounding in my chest despite my outward calm. What does all of this mean for Henry? I need to know how to help him, but there¡¯s no one I can ask. Least of all Joseph Sheldon. ¡°What about the Fae that was with Erra?¡±

    ¡°Muir?¡± Sheldon frowns. ¡°We¡¯ll know more when the Inquisition agent arrives, they¡¯ve kept tabs on Muir over the years.¡±

    ¡°Maybe I could look for information in the Archives,¡± I suggest.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know if Margadh Si¨®g is safe,¡± Sheldon replies tersely. ¡°It would be best if you actually practice patience for a change, Mr. Averline.¡±

    ¡°So¡­sit around until the agent gets here?¡± I demand.

    ¡°Do your job,¡± he suggests. ¡°No one here is merely ¡®waiting¡¯ for a moment to be the hero. There are other cases that must be dealt with.¡±

    I narrow my eyes, jaw clenching as a million insults jump to the tip of my tongue. I fight them back, however, because I don¡¯t want to give him any reason for taking me off the case.

    ¡°Can I at least know when this agent is expected?¡±

    ¡°Twelve days.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± I reply through my teeth.

    ¡°You¡¯re dismissed.¡±

    I don¡¯t need him to tell me twice and I depart the office as quickly as I can without being too obvious about it. I know I won¡¯t be able to concentrate on anything else, especially not for that long. The instant I take my mind off this case, I fear I¡¯ll lose Henry for good. As I ride the elevator back to the fifth floor, I try to determine my best course of action. I can¡¯t literally sit around the office doing nothing, but as the doors slide open, I do finally have a workaround in mind. It¡¯s going to be an odd time, I suppose, but it¡¯s been ages since I took leave and I¡¯m long overdue for some. So, instead of going to my office, I make my way to Chief Glass.

    ¡°Mr. Averline, how can I help you?¡± he asks once I step into his office.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to put in for some leave,¡± I reply.

    He blinks, and looks from his desktop screen to me like I spoke in tongues. ¡°Now?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I was informed that the Inquisition agent won¡¯t be here for twelve days, I haven¡¯t taken leave in a long time, and frankly¡­if things with Erra get as bad as Sheldon and others say then¡­this may be my last chance.¡±

    ¡°I see your point,¡± he concedes. ¡°Location and duration?¡±

    ¡°Long Island, to visit my parents, and let¡¯s just say four days, Friday through Monday.¡±

    ¡°New York¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s purely coincidental, Chief.¡±

    ¡°It better be, Averline, because it¡¯s my ass on the line if you do something stupid.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t exceed the bounds of my request,¡± I insist, embracing the fact that I¡¯m a liar. I won¡¯t have any luck defeating Erra by myself, I wouldn¡¯t even try, but maybe¡­just maybe I can get him to agree to let Henry go. I keep my face as neutral as possible as Chief inputs the date and location, and I do genuinely hope I don¡¯t get him in trouble for it. Sheldon is going to make the same connection when he sees it, I just have to hope he won¡¯t immediately call me back from leave to prevent any incidents.

    With that in mind, I keep my head down for the rest of the afternoon, with plans to be on my very best behavior tomorrow so I can get out of here the day after. Hopefully. Given how busy Sheldon is these days, maybe he won¡¯t even see the approved request until after I¡¯m back in Massachusetts.

    There¡¯s another thing I must prepare for before the trip, however, and that is the unbelievable patience I need to start building now before I¡¯m face-to-face with Mom. It¡¯s been a while, blissful months of not speaking to one another since she was just ¡®so offended¡¯ at my getting surgery without her blessing. Erra may be some drastic personification of death, but Deborah Marie Averline is someone I dread far more than anyone else.

 Chapter Three | Reunions

    It feels strange sitting here on my parents¡¯ patio. It doesn¡¯t feel right to be here, visiting family and finishing up a barbeque when Henry¡¯s out there. He¡¯s synonymous with the word family, and this feels like a betrayal of some kind even though I know I shouldn¡¯t think of it that way. Maybe I can think of it as doing him a favor, at least he doesn¡¯t have to deal with my mom. Regardless, the drive down to New York was more or less uneventful. Traffic on the 95 is always expected, and the congestion in and around the city is enough to leave me feeling haggard as soon as I arrive at the family home. I¡¯m saved from it being totally awkward by Camden and Dylan being here too. It was Camden who gave me the idea of putting in leave in the first place, having sent me a message recently about a family gathering for the weekend. Still, as distracted as I am about the prospect of going to the city, I can¡¯t entirely ignore Mom.

    ¡°So¡­are you dating yet?¡± she asks. ¡°It feels like a missed opportunity not to have a potential son-in-law here¡­or daughter-in-law if that¡¯s the intention these days. I suppose that would be¡­okay.¡±

    I look up from the admittedly delicious apple pie she baked earlier with a hard glare. It¡¯s been like this all afternoon, these little questions peppered into conversation like they aren¡¯t completely intrusive. My older brother Camden turns to his wife Caroline, clearly asking without words if they can take baby George and bail. Meanwhile, my younger brother Dylan looks at girlfriend 283,7284,723 with an I-told-you-so expression. I don¡¯t want to know what that is about, but I won¡¯t be surprised if he tells me he had some kind of bet on this before getting here. Dick. My father has developed an unnerving fascination with his pie crust, staying out of it as he traditionally does.

    ¡°What?¡± she asks like I¡¯m being unreasonable. ¡°I think it¡¯s a fair question. I mean, you couldn¡¯t do much better than Henry when it comes to men¡ª¡±

    ¡°You constantly gave me shit about Henry when we were married!¡± I snap.

    ¡°Well, I just didn¡¯t want you marrying someone who was only interested in money and he was¡­well¡­¡±

    ¡°Poor,¡± Dylan suggests pointedly.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to say it,¡± Mom sighs. ¡°But clearly he¡¯s doing very well for himself these days. I read about him in the paper, buying that penthouse suite! How incredible!¡±

    ¡°Oh my God,¡± I seethe, trying not to reenact the ever-popular table flip in my growing anger.

    ¡°And what about children?¡± Mom continues, ignoring my mood. ¡°You know I want plenty of grandkids.¡±

    A sickly hot rage erupts in me, and I need to change this conversation¡¯s trajectory before I do something I¡¯ll really regret. ¡°Dylan¡¯s probably got a thousand bastards running around by now,¡± I reply, deciding that if he wants to make this a game, he¡¯s going to have to play it too. He gives me a dirty look, deliberately ignoring the questioning one his girlfriend is giving him at the same time.

    ¡°Oh stop! That¡¯s a terrible thing to say!¡± Mom exclaims.

    ¡°Do you fucking listen to yourself?¡±

    ¡°I just don¡¯t understand!¡± she wails.

    ¡°Mom,¡± Camden sighs.

    ¡°I¡¯m worried! Can¡¯t a mother worry about her kids? You and Caroline have been married 15 years. Happily. Divorce is so final, all this¡­transition stuff is so final. What happens in 10 years¡­5 years¡­when you realize it was a mistake and you want to go back? What man is going to be interested after you¡¯ve mutilated yourself?¡±

    ¡°Get it through your thick skull that this isn¡¯t just a phase! Christ you¡¯re just lucky Dad hasn¡¯t figured out that Hell would literally be paradise compared to you. FYI, Dad, if you do divorce her, you¡¯ll probably earn a right-hand place at God¡¯s side for ridding yourself of evil. If not, well like I said, Hell would probably be a nice vacation.¡±

    ¡°Everyone, please,¡± Dad finally speaks up.

    ¡°Every. Time,¡± I hear Dylan whisper loudly to his girlfriend. I¡¯m pretty sure she¡¯s actually recording the scene on her phone and so loses any sympathy I had for her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why I bother to show up,¡± I grumble, shoving the last of my pie into my mouth out of spite. I will get my dessert at the very least. ¡°Let¡¯s just bother Riley about his personal life and keep talking about his ex-husband and how stupid he is for letting him go. We¡¯ll ignore the reason for the divorce while we¡¯re at it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Riley!¡± Mom is all contrite now.

    ¡°Fuck off,¡± I snap. ¡°You don¡¯t get to pretend your comment wasn¡¯t completely inappropriate. I¡¯m done, I¡¯m out of here.¡±

    ¡°We were supposed to have a nice weekend together!¡± she cries.

    ¡°Yeah well, next time think before you speak and maybe I¡¯ll want to be around you longer than 10 minutes. Dad, Camden, Caroline, always a pleasure. Dylan, what¡¯s-your-face? Use protection.¡± I get up, ignoring the huffing and hawing Mom is performing now and head inside to the kitchen. I stand at the sink, turning the faucet all the way on so I can drown out the sound of their voices chattering away out on the patio, probably talking about me, and finding some way to twist it into me being an asshole.

    Coming to New York really wasn¡¯t about visiting family here in Brookville on Long Island, but right now it¡¯s consuming all my mental bandwidth. The location itself is still nice. It¡¯s not as extravagantly lavish as Castillo¡¯s, but it¡¯s got more space since it¡¯s not crammed in a busy city neighborhood. Four bedrooms, four bathrooms, almost 4,000 square feet and sitting on over 2 acres of land. Tall trees serve as a natural fence line and there¡¯s an Olympic size swimming pool glistening in the light of the afternoon sun. I hate everything about it right now, but I remind myself that it got me closer to my goal. Once I calm down, I¡¯ll take off for the city and find out what the fuck is going on with Erra, and more importantly with Henry.

    The backdoor opens and Camden comes in. ¡°You okay?¡± he asks.

    ¡°I¡¯m over it,¡± I lie. ¡°I kind of expect it by now.¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Not your fault.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, no shit, doesn¡¯t change that I¡¯m sorry you¡¯re going through it,¡± Camden sighs.

    ¡°Then don¡¯t make me feel like worse shit just to put yourself on a pedestal,¡± I snap. We glower at each other, but I know he does mean well so I eventually sigh, shutting off the faucet. ¡°I just need to learn not to come up here anymore for visits. I¡¯ll see you, Carrie, and George, but no more of these.¡±

    ¡°You''re welcome at our place anytime,¡± Camden says. ¡°I told you that a million times already.¡±

    I respond with a noncommittal grunt. He has invited me a lot, it¡¯s just such a tiring affair trying to plan an actual trip to his place in Upstate New York. I have work, and since he can¡¯t know about what I do it means coming up with stories and lies about my fake career in private security for a bland crypto company, add to that I have even less time these days than I used to, and frankly the idea of it all just makes me exhausted. He¡¯s a good guy, but that doesn¡¯t change the sense of fatigue I get when I think of making the trip. It¡¯s the main reason I can¡¯t claim to be a good brother, because it¡¯s always been this way.

    ¡°Try not to brood on the Henry comments either,¡± Camden continues. ¡°Mom¡¯s an ass for bringing him up at all.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a lot more than an ass,¡± I grumble. ¡°Besides, that¡¯s not Henry.¡±

    I say it before I can stop myself, but Camden just shakes his head. By now he¡¯s used to me making ¡®off the wall¡¯ comments, and I assume that he assumes I¡¯m just dealing with the situation however I can. Regardless, I¡¯m glad he doesn¡¯t ask me to explain what I mean and instead, steps closer to pull me into a one-armed hug that I don¡¯t even try to push away from.

    ¡°You sure you aren¡¯t going to stay?¡± Camden asks. ¡°Because if you bail, me and Carrie can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I love you, bro, but not that much,¡± I tease.

    He sighs loudly. ¡°All right, all right. We¡¯ll suffer through it together and come out stronger.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit. Give her and Georgie a hug for me, okay?¡±

    ¡°You got it. Now get out of here before Mom tries to convince you to stay, I see her looking towards the door.¡±

    ¡°Shit, yeah, that¡¯s my cue. See you!¡±

    While Camden goes to head our mother off, I depart swiftly through the front entrance. The stuff I brought for the weekend is still in the rental car, I had a feeling I wouldn¡¯t make it longer than a night and didn¡¯t bother unpacking, so I don¡¯t have to worry about coming back around to pick anything up. The weapons and defenses I brought from the Order¡¯s armory are tucked safely next to the duffel bag containing my extra clothes. I feel better the moment I¡¯m out of the driveway, although now that I¡¯m away from familial tension, I feel a different kind brewing. I have no idea what to really expect with what¡¯s coming.

    ?????¡ã???¡ã?????

    New York City traffic leaves me stressed out and pissed by the time I find parking at 40 East 89<sup>th</sup> Street. There are closer options, but I really don¡¯t want to dish out nearly $100 to park. Instead, I join the hustle and bustle of fellow pedestrians, surrounded by car horns, drilling, hammering, and the ceaseless hum of conversation. It takes me about 15 minutes to walk to Central Park Tower, and I feel dizzy as I look up at the far distant point that marks the top of the building. I know next to nothing about architecture, but even I¡¯m impressed at the design. It¡¯s a momentary relief from the twisting in my guts and the sweaty palms as I get closer and closer to my goal. Hopefully, my ill-advised visit won¡¯t end with me dead.

    Almost everyone I notice going inside is heading into the mammoth Nordstroms building, and part of me nearly follows them in the pretense of gathering my nerves while doing some shopping. It won¡¯t help, I¡¯m just building it up even larger in my head and I know well enough that it¡¯s a sure ticket for me to abandon this altogether and retreat. I won¡¯t be able to live with myself if I actually do that though. I need to stick to my proverbial and actual guns, for Henry¡¯s sake.

    I go to the residential lobby, instantly reminded of an upscale hotel. The floors are a pristine marble, the walls rich wood. The sitting area here hosts sectional couches in black leather, and there¡¯s an unlit fireplace nearby. I approach the receptionist desk that¡¯s manned by two people, going over to the woman when she looks up and acknowledges me with a smile that is so well practiced it looks genuine.

    ¡°Good afternoon, how can I help you?¡± she asks.

    ¡°I¡¯m actually here to visit someone,¡± I reply, realizing that I look entirely out of place with my nondescript clothes. ¡°Can you call them to let them know I¡¯m here?¡±

    ¡°Certainly. Who are you looking for?¡±

    ¡°Henry Stone.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes, our new resident. And you are?¡±

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Riley Averline.¡±

    She nods and picks up a landline, dialing in the number to Henry¡¯s new, ridiculously priced home. She smiles at me again as the line rings, and I feel my heart sink as I¡¯m suddenly certain he won¡¯t pick up. I¡¯m about to tell her it¡¯s all right and awkwardly shuffle out of the building when she greets Henry¡­or rather, Erra, with a courteous ¡®good afternoon, sir.¡¯

    I keep my shoulders from tensing, going for nonchalant as she gives my name. Now I feel clammy all over, as I half expect to be dismissed outright. Instead, the woman wraps up the conversation and hangs up the phone.

    ¡°Take the elevator to the 100<sup>th</sup> floor, Mr. Stone will meet you there to bring you to the penthouse.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I reply, going to the set of elevators she indicates. I hit the button, waiting for it to collect me, and trying not to let the raucous tsunami of thoughts get me dizzy.

    The elevator is a lot faster than the one in Order HQ, and it stops at the 100<sup>th</sup> floor before I really have time to settle myself. The 100<sup>th</sup> floor turns out to be part of the Central Park Club, where all the rich residents get to enjoy amenities I can only dream of. I see signs for a private restaurant, private cigar lounges, private pools, private everything as if the people here need the constant reassurance that no plebians will wander into their scenic vistas. Standing nearby is Erra, and I frown as I see him again face to face for the first time since the night in Margadh Si¨®g. At first glance, I¡¯m looking at Henry. But the longer I look at him, the less like Henry he appears. His hair is shorter, no longer the mussed pompadour style Henry was sporting, and cropped closer to his head now. He¡¯s wearing a suit that looks tailor-made and expensive, and he¡¯s clean shaven. As I step off the elevator, his eyes find me and he smiles.

    There¡¯s something inherently malevolent about that smile, despite a lack of hostility in his gaze.

    ¡°I assume you aren¡¯t here at the behest of your Order,¡± he says.

    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good, then I shan¡¯t have to dismiss you immediately. Follow me,¡± he takes off and I fall into step, staring at his back as if I¡¯ll somehow see Henry in there. I say nothing as we walk through the lavish environment, the lighting warm and inviting, the music that plays soothing and unassuming. We head down a hallway that leads to several private elevators, and Erra gestures me inside one before stepping in and hitting the button for the 129<sup>th</sup> floor.

    We say nothing on the ride up. I glance at him now and then, quickly so he won¡¯t notice. It¡¯s hard to imagine him being responsible for everything the Council talked about, but then¡­I¡¯m obviously biased.

    ¡°Here we are,¡± he says pleasantly as the elevator doors slide open to reveal the entry hall.

    It¡¯s beautiful. The floors are warm hardwood in chevron patterns, the walls a rich olive that complements the floors. I hear a piano being expertly played, but I don¡¯t recognize the melody at all; it¡¯s haunting and oddly foreign in a way I can¡¯t exactly describe. Erra beckons me further inside, to a grand salon that nearly has my jaw drop. The ceiling is way above my head, probably 30ft or so, and the walls are glass. Endless windows that look out over New York City. Central Park looks so small from here. The salon is large enough to have two seating areas, one is set on a lush gray rug. Ivory sofas and chairs set tastefully around a stone coffee table. The other has ivory sectional couches and a massive coffee table in black. From those windows, I can see Billionaires¡¯ Row. Between the two seating areas is the grand piano, and a sour note fills my mouth when I realize the player is the same Fae who was with Erra in the black market. Muir. He has no Glamor over his features, his golden green skin radiant in the warm glow of the chandelier above him. He waves at me, but I don¡¯t return the motion.

    Erra gestures to the seating with the better view of Central Park, and I sit in one of the armchairs. It looks really nice, but its too firm to be comfortable.

    ¡°What do you need, Mr. Averline?¡±

    Nothing. There¡¯s nothing of Henry here. No hint or glimmer, no small plea or sense of familiarity. I¡¯m sitting in front of a stranger wearing Henry¡¯s face, and my heart feels like it shrivels in the sudden despair clenching it. I chase that away, I haven¡¯t even tried yet, and I owe Henry at least that much.

    ¡°I¡¯m here about Henry¡­¡±

    ¡°Hm, I expected this would happen eventually,¡± he sighs, while Muir resumes playing the piano quietly in the background. I see a slight smirk on the Fae¡¯s lips and I swallow the waspish comment that threatens to burst out of me. Meanwhile, Erra goes towards the left of the room, where a liquor cabinet is and fixes himself a drink. ¡°What, exactly, are you hoping to get?¡±

    ¡°I want him back,¡± I say in a rush. ¡°Sheldon has been warning us of how dangerous you are, and I don¡¯t doubt that, but you haven¡¯t been¡­I don¡¯t know, ransacking the world or anything so I thought maybe there¡¯s some mercy in you and you could release Henry.¡±

    He regards me, studying me, and I feel suddenly small in his presence. ¡°You would have me take someone else?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Yes,¡± because I don¡¯t see the point in lying. Henry would hate that I made such a bargain, but I can¡¯t bring myself to reconsider.

    ¡°No,¡± he hums.

    ¡°What? Why not?¡±

    ¡°I like this body, it¡¯s quite hardy thanks to the vampirism thing. I¡¯ll have to thank Charlemagne for that if the fool isn¡¯t dead. Besides, this is the one that was primed for me and Muir is very fond of it.¡±

    ¡°So much so that I¡¯m waiting for this to wrap up so I can show you how much again,¡± Muir chimes in with a sultry chuckle.

    Erra grins. ¡°Don¡¯t be rude, my darling.¡±

    The easy intimacy between the pair makes my gut clench in sudden envy. Erra must catch it, because that grin becomes sharper. ¡°Ohh, there was still something between you and Henry, wasn¡¯t there?¡±

    I try to shake the memory of us lying in bed together after hearing Henry¡¯s story. I try not to scream at myself for having told him I couldn¡¯t promise anything, when I knew then that I did want to try again. That I was only scared of hurting him like I did before, and wanted to give myself time to process so I could be sure I was ready.

    ¡°No wonder sweet Henry wouldn¡¯t go farther,¡± Muir says. ¡°He must have still been pining for you too, how romantic.¡±

    I try not to let that comment rankle me too visibly, but it leads to too many questions that I¡¯m not sure I really want the answer to. I know Muir was involved in Henry¡¯s escape from the Order, but apart from that his tidings in Henry¡¯s tragic mission are a mystery to me. I feel like my lungs are being pierced by these two sharp smiles, compressed and unwilling to take in air. I stand up, not sure if I¡¯m about to leave and call this whole trip a failure. Erra steps in front of me, blocking the direct route to escape.

    ¡°Hold a moment, you came all the way here¡­I¡¯ll tell you what,¡± he continues. ¡°You still have a working cunt? I¡¯m virile, we can go again and again until you leave with a little piece of me to nurture and grow¡­or call it a piece of him, if that makes you feel better. Trust me, this one won¡¯t come into the world already gone.¡±

    ¡°You¡­you son of a bitch!¡±

    He has access to Henry¡¯s memories, and while I could count that as something good ¨C a sign that Henry¡¯s still in there maybe, right now I just want to put my hands around his throat. Especially with the innocent smile he¡¯s suddenly feigning, juxtaposed by the obvious, malignant delight in his orangey eyes at my dismay. I don¡¯t put my hands around his neck, but I do lash out to punch him in the face in the hopes of erasing that smile altogether.

    His hand darts out suddenly, seizing my wrist so harshly it separates and interrupting my would-be attack. I let out a pained yelp as the skin that his hand covers immediately begins to blister and I try to yank my hand back, but I can¡¯t escape his grip.

    ¡°Fool,¡± he sneers.

    This is it. He¡¯s going to kill me. I can¡¯t break away from him, and I doubt anything I can do would hurt him. His eyes are cold, they suck my breath out of me and I feel my legs tremble under the weight of that ancient stare. But then¡­he¡¯s letting go of my wrist. I stagger backwards, nearly losing my footing but managing to catch myself at the last moment and avoid falling on my ass.

    ¡°Erra?¡± Muir asks, but Erra raises a hand to silence him.

    ¡°You¡¯d think you would be the least bit prepared,¡± he says to me. ¡°Count your blessings, Mr. Averline, and get out of my sight. Oh, be sure to tell ¡®Sheldon¡¯ hello from me.¡±

    My head is throbbing, and I¡¯m nauseous as I totter away from him and back towards the pair of elevators that will bring me to safety. My weapons remain untouched, I don¡¯t have the willpower to even attempt testing them now. I step into the elevator, unable to define what I¡¯m feeling. Even as I turn back to look in the penthouse and see Muir sliding an arm around Erra I can¡¯t discern if I feel anything at all. I breathe heavily as the elevator makes its prompt way down to the 100<sup>th</sup> floor, wincing as I look at my wrist. There are blisters forming, the skin is a bright red tinged with green and it hurts so much that I¡¯m dizzy as the lift chimes when it reaches its destination. I know I¡¯m earning strange looks as I lurch through the private club space, but I avoid everyone¡¯s gaze and march resolutely to the other set of elevators that will bring me to the lobby and out to New York City.

    ?????¡ã???¡ã?????

    I feel like shit, on so many different levels, but I force myself to get in the rental and drive it to Penn Station to return it. I¡¯ll take the Amtrak back to Boston, because no way am I going to be capable of driving that far now. I should go to the hospital, but I think they won¡¯t really be able to treat this the way an Incantator could at headquarters. I have half a mind to try and find New York¡¯s Cerberus headquarters, but I don¡¯t want to be slapped with a number of violations for working outside my jurisdiction without prior consent and written approval. So, I make do with buying a grossly overpriced first aid kit at the train station, retreat to one of the restrooms and hide in a stall to clean up the injury and wrap it as best as I can.

    Carrying my light duffel bag and pack of equipment feels like way more of a burden than it should be, and I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s because my physical condition or my mental one. I just want to crawl in a hole somewhere for a while, block out the world by laying in the dark and hoping that my confrontation with Erra was a nightmare, and that there¡¯s still hope for saving Henry. There is, I tell myself savagely, but I don¡¯t feel it in my heart as strongly as I did before.

    When my train gets in, I push my way towards my seat and shove my luggage into the storage above it. I flop down with a huff and tug my headphones out of my jacket pocket, plugging them into my phone and putting on a playlist of Nine Inch Nails that will be on repeat for the 4-hour duration of the trip. I close my eyes for good measure, doing everything I can to show other passengers I¡¯m not to be disturbed. I¡¯m in no mood to chat, I¡¯m in no mood for anything. I spend those hours on the train in a state of semi-dozing, shivering for a little and then feeling like I¡¯m burning up again the next. I just need to get home and sleep. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll feel better then. I have to feel better then, so I can determine my next step.

    The train pulls into South Station a little after 10pm and while a part of me wants to just say fuck it and sleep in my seat because moving seems awful, I force myself to my feet and try to pretend I¡¯m not as dizzy as I feel. I make it off the train without incident, but I have to make a beeline for the nearest restroom where I only just make it to a toilet before I vomit. My wrist throbs more painfully, but I don¡¯t unwrap the bandages to check it. I think it¡¯ll wipe me out completely to see the injury. So, I force myself to keep going while insisting inwardly that I¡¯ve faced worse before. It¡¯s only a quick walk to the nearest bus station to get to Fields Corner, and from there¡­just another 15 minutes to walk home. I can handle that. I got this.

    I almost don¡¯t. I almost get sick on the bus again, grimacing as I have to swallow it down at one point since there¡¯s no bathroom on this transit line. There¡¯s no time to even reach a bathroom when it stops at Fields Corner either, and I have to lose whatever¡¯s left in my stomach in a nearby trashcan, earning groans and comments from those walking past. Why am I feeling so rotten? I can explain the desire to disappear into a black hole, I can¡¯t explain why I feel like I¡¯ve come down with a wicked flu out of nowhere. Surprisingly, the walk to Everdean Street helps clear up some of that sensation, where I was assuming it¡¯d be nearly impossible for me to make it back to the house. I could sob when I reach home, staring up at the narrow structure as if its opening arms to embrace me.

    I¡¯m doing the usual fumble of my keys, my hands even less cooperative than usual, and I¡¯m shocked and on edge when someone opens it from the inside! I¡¯m in no state to fight, but I drop my duffel bag and I¡¯m scrambling to open the bag with my weapons when a familiar voice curtly tells me, ¡°just get inside, Averline.¡±

    I look up and wonder if I¡¯m hallucinating now, because Betty Carver has been off the map ever since she was fired from the Order for the Elena Silvyn incident. I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d ever bother remembering where I live. Still, I have to admit I¡¯m glad it¡¯s her and not Sheldon, and I stumble into the house, shutting the door loudly behind me. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I mumble. She looks prepared to answer me, but then I slump back against the door and slide down to my ass, my legs deciding they¡¯ve had enough for one day.

    ¡°I feared as much,¡± she sighs. ¡°Let me see, Averline,¡± her voice is gentle, something I¡¯m not used to, and probably the reason I hold my arm out to her without complaint. She unwraps the cheap bandage and I feel another churning in my stomach looking at my wrist. There¡¯s a black band around it, mottled with the blisters and burns. It reminds me of the skin of a banana that¡¯s way past ripeness. ¡°Necrosis,¡± Carver diagnoses with all the bluntness of the worst bedside mannered doctor ever.

    ¡°The fuck do you mean, necrosis?¡± I all but squeak. I¡¯d be embarrassed if I wasn¡¯t so panicked. ¡°What do I do about this?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s not much you can do about it, Averline, I caught you too late. I tried to get to you before you inevitably rushed into things. Again.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t fucking chastise me,¡± I growl. ¡°Last time I ¡®rushed into things¡¯ I handed you Elena on a platter, and you waited until South Boston was destroyed to do shit about it!¡±

    She glares at me, and even though she¡¯s no longer my boss, or has any sort of authority over me anymore, I still wince under the harshness of that look.

    ¡°He is a blight,¡± she says after a minute of scowling, echoing what was said in the Council. ¡°And he¡¯s touched you with it, it¡¯s a death sentence, Averline. There are ways we can slow its spread, but I do not know of any way to heal you.¡±

    I laugh weakly, bringing a hand to my forehead like I can massage the tension headache away so easily. ¡°Oh, is that all? So, I¡¯m fucking dead? Dead man walking? The walking dead? How long do I got, doc? Should I start putting my affairs in fucking order?!¡±

    ¡°William can answer that question better than I can,¡± Carver says.

    Now I know I must be delirious, which is good news, it means I can ignore what she said about the blight inside of me. Clearly, I just imagined her saying that because my brain sucks and likes those catastrophic thinking patterns. That¡¯s what Dr. Franklin told me on more than one occasion, anyway. Minus the part about my brain sucking.

    ¡°Billy¡¯s dead,¡± I remind her.

    ¡°I know that, Averline,¡± she says. ¡°But he¡¯s not gone.¡±

    I can¡¯t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the entire day. ¡°Are we going to hold a s¨¦ance? Should I go buy a Ouija board?¡±

    ¡°No need, he¡¯s at his apartment. Or, my apartment I should say,¡± Carver says. ¡°Get up, Averline. You¡¯ll do no one any favors with the self-pity routine.¡±

 Chapter Four | Borrowed Time

    Carver leads me outside and down Everdean a little way, to a brightly orange Volkswagen Beetle that I would never picture her in if I didn¡¯t see her unlocking it now. She gestures for me to get in, and I slump into the passenger¡¯s seat, still feeling like I¡¯m going to be sick all over the dashboard as she starts the engine and drives away from Dorchester. Since it¡¯s getting pretty late, there¡¯s not a ton of traffic which is a relief, it means less stopping and going, less lurching to test my stomach¡¯s resolve. I lean my head against the window and sigh quietly as the cool glass combats the heat of my forehead. I still can¡¯t grasp what Carver told me. I still can¡¯t accept that this small injury on my wrist is going to kill me. There will be a cure, Carver just doesn¡¯t know what it is, because I learned a few years ago that Carver isn¡¯t nearly as infallible as she wanted everyone in the Order to believe. I¡¯ll be fine, and so my worry swerves back to Henry.

    There¡¯s also curiosity about Billy. If this is some joke (which I don¡¯t think it could be, Carver isn¡¯t the sort) it¡¯s going on too long for my liking. ¡°Why did you say it¡¯s your apartment?¡± I ask, thinking I could get some of that curiosity sated.

    ¡°I bought it after the Order fired me,¡± Carver replies candidly. ¡°I had a feeling he would linger, and he did.¡±

    ¡°Man¡­I wish I knew that earlier,¡± I groan, thinking of the night Henry came to me and told me about the relic. If I knew Billy was around, I could have gone to his apartment and asked about the relic, and Erra, and the Bishops, and about all the twisted paths that led to Erra¡¯s eventual escape. Billy¡¯s family is involved in it somehow, but I never did get more details. Now I suppose I can.

    When we get to the apartment complex, I feel oddly nervous. Guilty too, because I never once came around here after Billy¡¯s horrific death. It was my fault, if I hadn¡¯t pressured him into taking the Whiteworm Amanita then he¡¯d still be here. I still think Elena was ultimately responsible, rather than the drug as Sheldon insisted, but it doesn¡¯t really matter now. He¡¯s gone, even if it¡¯s not entirely, and that is something I¡¯ll have to live with.

    Carver unlocks the door and I expect to see the apartment reflect her personality; strait-laced and tidy, sensible d¨¦cor and layout, lots of cool colors¡­instead, it¡¯s exactly as I remember it. There are a few more additional pieces, like a small bookcase, a record player, and a new bed, but otherwise it¡¯s still Billy¡¯s place.

    ¡°Hey, kid.¡±

    That warm voice makes me start and I look towards the loveseat that¡¯s also been added to the apartment¡¯s bedroom/living room. Sitting on it is Billy. He¡¯s wearing the same outfit he had on the night he died, and he¡¯s smiling easily, but he looks faded. He¡¯s not spectral, not a smoky outline whose legs fade to nothing, and he¡¯s not see-through, but he looks like he could slip out of sight if you didn¡¯t watch him closely enough. It¡¯s like the saturation¡¯s been turned down on him, the contrast too, making the sharper edges of his features softer than they should be.

    I go to him directly, and he only perceives my intent when I¡¯m practically at the couch.

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡±

    He doesn¡¯t finish. I nearly collapse onto him in an attempt to put my arms around him, but while he may not look invisible, I don¡¯t feel him. I feel a slight chill, and hear a high-pitched ringing, but I¡¯m face first in the back of the loveseat. I shift to sit at the other end, while Billy is exactly where he¡¯d been when I walked in.

    ¡°Solid,¡± he finishes. ¡°But hey, I appreciate the gesture.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I mumble.

    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s more awkward for you than for me, so I wouldn¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry about what happened.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and I¡¯m telling you not to be. It wasn¡¯t your fault.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    ¡°Ri, do yourself a favor and ditch the Catholic Guilt thing already, eh? You look great, by the way. Very handsome. Although¡­a bit sickly?¡±

    ¡°He went to see Erra,¡± Carver interjects, reminding us both that she¡¯s still here. She¡¯s standing nearby, with her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Billy says, looking crestfallen suddenly. ¡°Oh, Riley¡­¡±

    ¡°Show him the injury,¡± Carver insists.

    I frown at them both, feeling like I¡¯m being left out of a secret while I am the secret. Still, I show Billy my blackened wrist, and I grimace when I notice that it looks worse than before. The skin of my forearm is starting to mottle, the veins that are visible look black rather than blue.

    ¡°What do you know about this?¡± I ask him. ¡°I need to know, I need to save Henry, I need to know how you¡¯re connected, I need to know everything there is to know.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know everything,¡± Billy sniffs.

    ¡°Then tell me what you do know!¡± I snap. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, I feel like I¡¯ve been running blind because everyone¡¯s keeping all their knowledge to themselves!¡±

    Billy isn¡¯t impressed by the outburst, and just looks at me with a raised brow before he reaches over and pats my thigh. Or, rather he mimics patting my thigh, since he can¡¯t actually touch me. ¡°That¡¯ll do, Pig, that¡¯ll do,¡± he says. ¡°Babe, the Gallant Pig,¡± he adds at my angrily clueless expression. ¡°Uh, right. Anyway. So, first, we need to deal with that,¡± he points at my wrist. ¡°Because that is rancid, my friend, I¡¯m going to tell you exactly what you need to look for at Margadh Si¨®g.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can handle a trip to the market right now,¡± I groan. ¡°Can¡¯t you do it?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t leave the premises,¡± Billy grins and that grin says enough about that.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± Carver volunteers. ¡°You should rest as much as you can, Averline. Tell me what I need, Bill.¡±

    I mouth ¡®Bill¡¯ to him and he winks, but gets up as Carver moves to the bedside table and withdraws a small notepad. While he rattles off a list of ingredients, metals, and an assortment of items, I study my wrist. Would this really kill me? I don¡¯t feel as badly as I did on my way back to Boston, but I definitely don¡¯t feel like I¡¯m really getting better. I thought there¡¯d be enough of Henry that Erra wouldn¡¯t be able to do something so¡­permanent to me. I was banking on it, frankly, when I decided to go to New York in the first place. Even if I couldn¡¯t speak directly to Henry, surely he had some kind of reins on Erra¡­apparently not. I guess I should be thankful he didn¡¯t outright murder me right then and there, although if this is the slow and painful sort of death, I don¡¯t think I can really count it as a mercy.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back soon,¡± Carver says.

    ¡°Is it safe for you to go?¡± I ask. ¡°There was the plague or blight, whatever, when Erra came back.¡±

    She looks somewhat hesitant, but withdraws a gas mask. ¡°This will have to be enough,¡± she replies.

    I doubt it¡¯s just a mask, no doubt enchanted to provide better protection. At least, I hope that¡¯s the case.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± and this is by far my strangest interaction with this woman to date.

    She departs and it¡¯s just me and Billy again. He sits back down on the loveseat, one arm slung over the back.

    ¡°I miss you,¡± I admit.

    ¡°You better!¡± his exclamation makes me chuckle, and his own rumbling laugh joins in. ¡°I miss you too, kid.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s it like being a ghost?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d be amazed at how intrusive people can be after you die,¡± he hums.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°All right, point taken.¡±

    ¡°Good. Now, about those other answers you want. Give me some more of the specifics, would you? I¡¯m not all-seeing now or anything. Tell me what happened.¡±

    I relate to him everything Henry told me, or at least the relevant parts ¨C I couldn¡¯t bear repeating the abuse he went through. I spoke of how he worked with Castillo, and figured out his family was trying to break into Billy¡¯s own storage unit looking for the relic depicted in the book Magicks & Alchemy. I explained that Henry found the relic there, and how he eventually came to me, but that the Order fucked everything when they interfered and captured Henry as a criminal. After that there¡¯s a large blank in my story, because Henry escaped with the help of Muir and I never saw him again. I hear my voice quiver when I talk about seeing him in the black market, not really as Henry, but as Erra. I try to keep the accusation out of my voice when I point out that Billy¡¯s family was obviously involved in all this too, somehow. If Billy catches that accusation, which I¡¯m sure he did, he chooses not to acknowledge it.

    ¡°If I¡¯d known Henry was a Bishop, that would have saved a lot of heartache. Charles and Ines¡­I wouldn¡¯t wish them on my enemies.¡±

    ¡°But how are you connected?¡±

    ¡°Ines is my cousin, or was¡­I suppose. The Burkes, my family, they also did the rituals under the moon. Ines and Charles were the first of both the Burkes and Bishops to get married, so when Henry was born¡­yeah, that matches up, I was pretty much ignored at that point, but I think they tried to use me as a vessel beforehand.

    ¡°I knew they were up to shady shit, and I knew that it wouldn¡¯t be good for anyone else involved. Before I left home, I learned what I could about it, and then I stole the relic ¨C which my parents had and wouldn¡¯t give up to anyone, not even Ines or her parents. I also grabbed the book, which regrettably was dropped into Boston Harbor at some point due to¡­certain circumstances.¡±

    ¡°You were high.¡±

    ¡°Guilty, yes, but anyway¡­I knew I needed a secure place to keep the relic and I didn¡¯t trust the Order with it either, so I figured what better place than one owned by Boston¡¯s biggest crime boss? I stashed it at Mattapan Maximum Security and it was safe there for years. I figured that was the end of it, never would have guessed I was related to Henry when you introduced me to him. I wouldn¡¯t guess that he was the product of such shitty people either. If I¡¯d known he was a Bishop, I would have kept a closer eye on things.¡±

    ¡°Stop talking about him in the past tense¡­¡±

    Billy looks solemn, and only nods. ¡°I wish I could tell you more about who or what Erra is,¡± he continues. ¡°But I made it clear very early on I wouldn¡¯t have anything to do with my family¡¯s bullshit, and they probably took it as a blessing when I ran away¡­At least until they realized I ran away with the relic. Anyway, what I do know about him is that he¡¯s a creature of death. A blight. The Nathir, the title the Burkes and Bishops used for him ¨C the Harbinger. My parents basically worshipped him as a Pestilence God, trying to summon him so he could destroy everything so the world could be born anew. Not sure how they decided it would be a better world, or even a livable one if Erra is such a terrible blight. But they had this alchemical formula that was meant to protect them at least, I gave Carver the list of things needed to make it.¡±

    ¡°A god?¡± I repeat, stuck on that word, but Billy shrugs dismissively, like it¡¯s only a title given to Erra from his family. I can¡¯t imagine wanting to summon something that would wipe out everything, but I¡¯m not here to understand the minds of the Burkes or the Bishops. I¡¯m only interested in saving Henry. ¡°Sheldon says Erra is the reason the Order of Cerberus was created in the first place,¡± I add, also thinking of Erra¡¯s comment to say hello to Sheldon. ¡°Did he know about you? Your family?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­not really something I shared with anyone in the Order. And you should be demanding answers from Sheldon,¡± Billy points out. ¡°Don¡¯t take any sort of no, kid. Sheldon may be intimidating, but fuck it, what do you really have to lose by pissing him off?¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I look at my wrist again. We sit in silence for what feels like several minutes before I look at him again. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m actually talking to you again; I don¡¯t think it¡¯s hit me fully that you¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m like a weed, I know,¡± Billy replies. ¡°Resilient to the very end.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d have to be, living with Carver.¡±

    ¡°Nah, she¡¯s all right. She¡¯s lightened up a lot since getting canned.¡±

    ¡°If you say so.¡±

    We fall to silence that isn¡¯t wholly comfortable again. I still can¡¯t banish the image of his dying moments, and despite what he said, I still feel guilty about all of it. I¡¯m also processing what he just told me about his history. I can¡¯t believe that he and Henry were related the whole time. I recall the day I introduced them, back when I was still denying my true self. Henry and I had been together for a few months, and in that short time I felt sure of one thing, that we¡¯d eventually get married. This certainty led me to letting Henry into my whole life, at least as much as I could, and that meant knowing Billy. Billy came out of the gates swinging, making jokes and being his boisterously charming self, and Henry in his gentle way kept pace with him. It¡¯s always been a memory I look back on fondly, but now it only hurts.

    ¡°Do you have any beer?¡±

    Billy snorts loudly, obliterating the silence. ¡°Yeah, I pop down to the corner store and get a steady supply. Sorry, kid. No beer here, Betty is more of a white wine and whiskey gal.¡±

    ¡°Is there something I should know about the two of you?¡± I ask, deciding it¡¯s too much effort to get up and look for a drink. I don¡¯t think I could peel myself off the loveseat even if it suddenly caught on fire.

    ¡°Phantom sexcapades galore,¡± Billy effects a dreamy tone. He laughs when our eyes meet. ¡°I¡¯m joking. We live together, do you expect me to keep up the workplace formalities?¡±

    ¡°All right, all right,¡± I¡¯d throw the pillow I¡¯m leaning on at him, but I know it wouldn¡¯t be at all effective. Besides, I¡¯m starting to feel a little dizzy again, and would likely only succeed in wobbling off the couch. ¡°You think Betty would be mad if I collapsed onto her bed?¡±

    ¡°Only if you get under the covers and sweat all over her very expensive sheets,¡± Billy¡¯s voice is still light, but I can see the concern in the downturn of his mouth.

    I stand up with a groan. My head throbs, I shiver, and my joints feel like they¡¯re encased in cement as I shuffle the short distance to the bed and collapse face first onto the duvet. I know I should kick my shoes off, but I don¡¯t have the energy to once I¡¯ve shifted enough to be laying fully on the bed. If Carver wants to kick my ass about it, she¡¯s welcome to, maybe it¡¯ll help me shake off this illness.

    ¡°¡ªerline. Mr. Averline!¡±

    I wake with a start, confused by the brightly colored walls and tapestries which hang on them that surround me. Then I focus on the two shapes at the side of the bed and my eyes flutter before registering Carver and Billy.

    I feel much better, and I wonder if maybe we all overreacted about my injury and I just needed to sleep it off. I look at my wrist and notice the large bangle that¡¯s around it. It¡¯s gaudy as hell, not the sort of thing I would wear even if I was completely wasted, but it looks like it¡¯s made of real gold sprinkled with random blotches of other colors¡­not great, considering the areas of the city my job often takes me to.

    ¡°Why?¡± I ask, holding up my wrist to them.

    ¡°It¡¯s that or dying,¡± Billy replies. ¡°You are now in possession of a rare alchemical miracle, Riley. Gold, silver, selenium, mercury, a little platinum, black tourmaline, crystallized moon bee honey¡­¡±

    ¡°I think we all get the point,¡± Carver sighs.

    ¡°Way to ruin my moment,¡± Billy retorts. ¡°In short, it hasn¡¯t healed you, but it will keep the affliction contained to that one area.¡±

    My head is fuzzy and taking longer to process words, but I get the gist. With this thing on, I won¡¯t be at risk of dying. ¡°So, I need to wear this for the rest of my life?¡±

    ¡°We need to see if there¡¯s an actual cure,¡± Carver says. ¡°It may only slow it down; we don¡¯t know for sure.¡±

    ¡°You could¡¯ve let him had a minute of relief.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t coddle.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s such a bother, I can find a much nicer place to live and you can deal with mundane tenants instead.¡±

    ¡°Mom, Dad, can we calm down?¡± I cut in. ¡°Whether this is delaying the inevitable or I¡¯m fine, it doesn¡¯t matter. I can¡¯t just sit around; I have to find out more about Erra. Or more specifically, how to cast him out of Henry.¡±

    ¡°Speak to Joseph,¡± Carver suggests. ¡°He knows much that he isn¡¯t willing to readily share.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s going to be fun,¡± I mutter. ¡°Okay. So, I guess it¡¯s back to headquarters for me. Thank you for the life-saving monstrosity,¡± I add.

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not a skilled alchemist, I did the best I could in instructing Betty on putting it all together,¡± Billy replies, although there¡¯s a certain humor to his face that says he could have made something more to my tastes, he just chose not to. Ass.

    He does walk me to the door though, while Carver hangs back. I wish I could hug him, but I settle for smiling at him. ¡°Is it selfish of me to say I¡¯m glad you didn¡¯t move on?¡±

    ¡°Incredibly so,¡± he grins. ¡°I can still help though, so make sure you mention my part when you¡¯re talking about how you saved the world.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll embellish too. This place is going to be surrounded by supernatural fans.¡±

    ¡°Boy, they¡¯ll be disappointed when they realize I¡¯m no Jensen Ackles or Jared Padalecki.¡±

    I shake my head and open the door, pausing before I step over the threshold. ¡°I think seeing you again did me more good than this bracelet.¡±

    ¡°I love you too, Riley.¡±

    I step back into the hall, lifting a hand in farewell before the door closes and separates me from Billy. I¡¯ll come back here; I¡¯ll visit him. Carver is just going to have to deal with me being around. Right now, I have to get back to headquarters. Looking at my phone tells me I was unconscious for about six hours, although I feel like I could sleep for another day or five. Still, maybe showing up when I¡¯m supposed to still be on leave will catch Sheldon off guard and I¡¯ll be able to pry some information out of him. No, there can¡¯t be any maybe about it. He¡¯s going to tell me what I need to know. As I head out of the apartment building, however, I feel my eyes burn and my thoughts, though still groggy, are beginning to race again. I have a few more days of leave left, maybe it won¡¯t kill me to use another one just to rest.

 Chapter Five | The Inquisition

    I go directly home, keeping my mind busy with trivial things throughout the trip because I can¡¯t think about everything else going on. I need the space to feel it, to acknowledge it at all, and that¡¯s not something I want to do on public transport. I try not to rush too much on the walk from the station to my house, I still feel a little groggy although I¡¯m far past the danger of being sick again, thankfully. When I do get home, I make it a point to keep my slower pace as I lock my door, kick off my shoes, and walk towards the bathroom so I can shower. I manage to keep myself together until the water hits my face, then my tears mingle with the drops cascading down.

    How the fuck am I supposed to fight a god? Even if that isn¡¯t the right word to use to describe Erra, there¡¯s no getting around the consensus that he¡¯s extremely powerful. Ancient vampires, the Fae Courts, everyone who knows of Erra is afraid of him. And I still don¡¯t know enough. Sheldon probably does know more than he¡¯s letting on, there¡¯s a connection there¡­between him and Erra, that he avoided talking about in the Council. Except, chances are he¡¯s going to refuse explaining what that connection is to me out of petty dislike. The dizziness that hits me this time is from my harsh breathing, anger pushing me towards hyperventilating since I do nothing to control it. It only spirals when I think of Erra, and his smug suggestion, simultaneously wounding me with Amelia¡¯s memory as well as the harsh reality of my body. I look down at it now, at the scars on my chest from top surgery, usually providing a boost of confidence, now they couple with my anxiety as I wash between my legs. It shouldn¡¯t matter, I¡¯m still me, a single body part won¡¯t change that, but in that moment, it feels like everything is missing.

    I can¡¯t bear it and I cut my shower short, hardly drying myself properly before I¡¯m pulling on baggy sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Covering myself helps somewhat, but it¡¯s the beer in the fridge that will provide the most aid.

    I drink a few back-to-back, until my breathing evens out and my mind isn¡¯t a roaring tempest. I should go to sleep, I could use more rest¡­but I go instead to the small bookcase in the living room and look through the various spines until I come to the old photo album, one I tried to throw away countless times before, but could never bring myself to do it. I retrieve it and go to the couch, opening it to the first picture, me and Henry at the altar. He looks so handsome in his suit, but I¡¯m a stranger. Long brown hair is done up in a fancy updo, with string of pearls artfully woven into the curls. Makeup emphasizes my eyes and lips; my white gown fits snugly at the bodice then billows out at the skirts.

    I remember the giddy feeling I had as we exchanged our vows. I remember thinking I would be too happy to ever have doubts about myself again. I remember being so excited for the future for the first time in my life. Being with Henry was the first means I had to be myself, even if the exterior didn¡¯t match yet. With that thought in mind, I was able to look through more of the photos without more dysphoria, but I could not hold back some of the despair. I see it now, the pain in his eyes hidden behind warm smiles. Photos that I¡¯ve looked at so many times and being oblivious to it all, his background, the harsh environment he grew up in¡­always seeing the gentle soul that prevailed over everything. I sob-laugh at pictures that capture us being silly, making faces at the camera or each other, and I feel my heart hurt when I see the more romantic photos; him lifting me up, the way he looked at me, the way I looked at him. I miss him. I miss him so much. I miss what we had together. And I hate that the very institution I would otherwise turn to for help in this is the one that seems determined to deny me. The Order of Cerberus isn¡¯t interested in helping Henry. I¡¯m the only one who will.

    But I don¡¯t have to be.

    Both Castillo and Brianna only attended the Council because of Henry. I knew Henry and Brianna were close, and I suppose in the time Henry lived with Castillo that bond deepened too. They love him in their own way, and I can¡¯t imagine they would turn me away if I asked them for help in finding a way to save him.

    I let out a slow breath, feeling a sense of calm come over me. It helps to remember that I¡¯m not alone in this. I have allies I can turn to, and I promise myself that I will reach out to them in the next day or two. With that in mind, I put the album back where it belongs, wash up for bed, and go back to sleep.

    I manage to sleep well, and I prepare to go to work feeling energized which is a rare treat. As I head out the door, I look at my wrist and the bangle encircling it. It covers the entirety of the wound, so I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s healing or not, but I¡¯m relieved to see that my veins no longer look black and have returned to blue. It¡¯s ugly, but it¡¯s working. I slip my house keys into my pocket and head towards Field¡¯s Corner to catch the subway back to headquarters. There''s tension through the building that distracts me almost as soon as I step out of the elevator and to the fifth floor. Centurions moving through the hall whisper to one another, looking apprehensive and on edge.

    I see Chief Glass round a corner and I hurry to him before he can get swept up in his next task. "Chief, what''s going on?" I ask.

    "The Inquisition is here early," Glass replies.

    Even knowing that they were coming, I feel the same tension infecting everyone else settle across my shoulders. I''ve never met anyone in the Inquisition, and I kind of wanted to keep it that way. While they aren''t as notably bloodthirsty as the Spanish Inquisition of history, they are brutal. It''s their job to sniff out dissenters, and to charge those who fail in their duty. When an incident between the Order and a supernatural body cannot be solved locally, the Inquisition steps in. They are coldly objective, separate enough from the Order that there''s been no accusation of bias.

    If there''s anyone who could wring information out about Erra, it would be the Inquisition.

    "So, I should wait to attempt an audience with Sheldon then," I decide, hoping I can hide out in my office until the Inquisition leaves. I know the agent is meant to be helping us, but I also know I¡¯d like a recap from someone else rather than meeting them myself.

    Glass grimaces in a way that suggests my day is about to get much worse. "Actually, the agent wants to speak with you. Since you¡¯re here, you can report to Sheldon''s office and get that over with."

    "Fuck."

    "Utmost professionalism, Mr. Averline."

    Professionalism is not my strong suit, but the plaintive look on his face tells me I better make it my strong suit as soon as possible. I go back to the elevator and hit the button for the top floor, its slow ascent a blessing and a curse. I want to get this over with, but I want to avoid it as long as I can too. There''s only one reason the Inquisition would want to speak to me directly, and that must be my meeting with Erra in New York. How they found out about that so quickly is anyone¡¯s guess, but I¡¯m certain it wasn¡¯t too much trouble on their end. Are they going to accuse me of being a security risk that needs to disappear? Will they dismiss me from the Order like they did to Carver? Leaving me with little resources to help Henry? By the time the elevator arrives, I''m convinced that I''m going to executed, fired, and locked up all at once.

    I knock on Sheldon''s door, and when it opens, I find myself not looking at Sheldon¡¯s familiar features, but instead at a woman I don¡¯t know.

    The Inquisition agent doesn''t look particularly riveting. I think that''s part of their thing, to be unnoticeable. She has shoulder-length dirty blonde hair parted down the middle, blue eyes free of any makeup, a Roman nose, average lips. She wears square-framed glasses, and a cream-colored pants suit that''s classy, but not so much so to draw a lot of attention. She doesn''t smile in greeting; she just stares at me.

    ¡°Centurion Averline,¡± she says.

    ¡°Yes¡­¡±

    ¡°I am Agent Nora Clement.¡±

    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± it¡¯s not, but I figure I can try to make a good impression. I fail, because she doesn¡¯t return the sentiment.

    ¡°It has come to our attention that you went to New York and spoke with the Sunset King this past Friday,¡± Clement continues. ¡°As you were not sanctioned to go there, your actions lead us to doubt your integrity.¡±

    ¡°Well, you see¡­¡±

    ¡°Furthermore,¡± she interrupts me. ¡°You have shown a rash disregard for protocol in the past. While prior incidents could be concluded as sloppy work, this recent visit with Erra puts everything you¡¯ve done in question.¡±

    I laugh, shaking my head. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly think I¡¯m¡­working against the Order.¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°You have stepped out of bounds enough that your intentions merit inquiry.¡± She moves to Sheldon¡¯s desk, where a leather bag sits. Opening this, Clement extracts a small vial and holds it up. I squint at the contents inside and frown when I see something moving.

    ¡°This is a Dize Bira, a rare insect only found in Kurdistan,¡± she says. ¡°Useful in gathering information, it burrows into the brain to consume memories, which we can later extract. You may answer my questions truthfully and thus avoid my needing this, or you can be uncooperative and risk leaving this office with no memory of who you are.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s pretty fucking extreme!¡± I snap. I know the Inquisition has a reputation, they are efficient and rigid in their methods, but this? I haven¡¯t even had a chance to explain myself and she¡¯s already threatening me with this horrific treatment! I eye the small insect in the vial, my stomach clenching at the idea of it crawling through my brain and eating everything that makes me¡­me.

    ¡°I see no reason to prolong this longer than necessary,¡± Clement continues. She doesn¡¯t sound like she¡¯s looking forward to it, so at least she¡¯s not giving psychotic Nurse Ratchet vibes, but that doesn¡¯t really make me feel much better.

    ¡°So¡­ask your questions then,¡± I say warily, wondering what the consequences would be if I sprung forward and knocked the vial out of her hand. Sorry little bug, but it¡¯s you or me.

    ¡°Why did you go to New York?¡±

    ¡°To visit family.¡±

    Her eyes narrow. ¡°Let me be more specific¡­why did you go to Erra?¡±

    I don¡¯t want to tell her about Henry. I¡¯m not sure if anyone in the Order outside our regional headquarters is aware of him, or rather his ties to me. I can¡¯t imagine the Inquisition being sympathetic to my cause, and that my meeting with Erra would only put Henry in more danger.

    ¡°We¡­knew very little about Erra until recently,¡± I begin. ¡°I wanted to fill the gap of that knowledge. It was just me being impatient again, that¡¯s all.¡±

    Clement¡¯s fingers go to the top of the vial, to the cork that keeps the Dize Bira locked inside. ¡°You lie.¡±

    ¡°Keep that shit away from me!¡±

    "What is the meaning of this?¡± a voice demands and I¡¯ve never been this happy to see Sheldon as he strides into his office.

    ¡°This Centurion¡¯s misconduct regarding his unauthorized visit with the King of Sunset demands further inquiry,¡± Clement argues.

    I open my mouth to try and find some justification as to why we absolutely should not go through a whole investigation, but nothing comes out. I haven¡¯t had a chance to explain myself to Sheldon either, and now that he knows I saw Erra, I must brace for him siding with Clement.

    ¡°Centurion Averline has been interrogated and reprimanded on the matter already,¡± Sheldon says in my place. Did¡­he just lie for me? ¡°His rash actions, while foolish, ultimately did not cause harm. Our time would be better spent focusing on the matter at hand.¡±

    ¡°Already reprimanded?¡± Clement repeats coolly.

    ¡°Yesterday, when he returned to Boston.¡±

    I¡¯m flabbergasted and I want to ask who this person is and what happened to Sheldon. Clement doesn¡¯t look very convinced, but she doesn¡¯t immediately dismiss Sheldon and that gives me some hope.

    ¡°Once this business with Erra is concluded, you will face an inquiry,¡± she decides.

    ¡°All right.¡±

    So, I have until then to make a strong case for myself. Even so¡­I¡¯ll face whatever I need to afterwards, right now I¡¯m just relieved I¡¯ll still be working on this case. I¡¯m also selfishly relieved that Clement puts the vial back into her bag.

    ¡°Agent Clement, it is my understanding that you were sent here to provide us with additional information that may help us in thwarting the threat Erra represents,¡± Sheldon says.

    ¡°Your challenging Erra may have him choose his next target,¡± Clement ignores Sheldon this time to speak directly to me. She really wants me to have fucked up, apparently. ¡°If he believes the Order is openly instigating him, he may feel pressured to make his next move.¡±

    ¡°Our Sentinels can¡¯t seem to see him,¡± Sheldon says.

    ¡°No, he would have defenses against that by now,¡± Clement replies. ¡°Focusing on Erra is a sure means of failure.¡±

    ¡°So¡­what are we supposed to do then?¡± I demand.

    ¡°Focus on his weakness. Focus on the one calling himself Muir.¡±

    ¡°That sleazy bastard¡­¡±

    Sheldon raises a hand in a bid for me to shut up and let Clement continue. She nods, not nearly as visibly annoyed by my interjections as Sheldon seems to be. ¡°Muir is not his name, his true name has been lost to all but himself, and likely the sunset king,¡± she explains. ¡°One thing that has not changed, however, is his ties to Erra. They have been united a very long time.¡±

    I¡¯m still trying to tell myself that my flare of jealousy is pointless. Henry isn¡¯t involved, and yet¡­I still feel it. ¡°A love through the ages,¡± I scoff.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Clement replies in all seriousness. ¡°Muir lost his crown for Erra. He was once the king of the Seelie Court, if legend is to be believed, when the world was still young. Then he led Erra to the Tuatha De Danann, which led to their genocide. Banishment from the Court wasn¡¯t enough, but Muir was wise enough not to return after that incident. It was the only thing the Court felt like it could do since they could not hold him to account personally. And in time¡­fewer and fewer knew that he was the Corrupted King.¡±

    ¡°If you knew who he was¡­why didn¡¯t you detain him before all this happened?¡± I ask.

    ¡°He did not overtly break any laws for centuries,¡± Clement replies. ¡°Thus, was not worth the resources it would take to bring him in.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no point focusing on what might have been. As powerful as he may be, the Order knows the weaknesses of the Fae,¡± Sheldon adds. ¡°And if Erra loves Muir as much as you say, then it stands to reason he will do whatever he can to ensure Muir¡¯s safety.¡±

    ¡°But what if that¡¯s obliterating us?¡± I point out. ¡°Say we capture Muir, and tell Erra in the hopes he cooperates, wouldn¡¯t that be putting a giant target on headquarters?¡±

    ¡°He is not a bargaining chip,¡± Clement replies. ¡°He is a source of information. We capture him, yes, but we do not let it slip to Erra that we have. The Inquisition will get answers from the Fae, and in those answers will be the means to defeat Erra.¡±

    Not familiar enough with either Muir or the Inquisition, I can¡¯t say for sure who I¡¯d bet on. I¡¯m hoping that Clement¡¯s confidence isn¡¯t misplaced though. I almost feel bad for Muir, because I¡¯m certain she¡¯ll pull out the Dize Bira on him too.

    ¡°Are we sure Muir has the same weaknesses as the rest of the Fae?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Iron will always affect the Fae,¡± Clement says. ¡°You make a fair point all the same, Centurion. It would be wise to research immunities and other weaknesses.¡±

    ¡°The Archives would hold lexicons outside our own,¡± Sheldon replies. ¡°But the state of the market is questionable at best.¡±

    ¡°There are means to traverse it,¡± Clement replies. She digs in her bag again and pulls out what looks like a bottle of perfume. ¡°This concoction will provide protection to the one who wears it. At least for a time.¡±

    ¡°I could go then, and ask Vasilisa about it,¡± I say and regret it immediately at the sharp look from Clement. Another part of my upcoming inquiry then.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Sheldon says stiffly. ¡°Would that be enough to protect two?¡± he asks Clement, and when she nods, he continues, ¡°Then you shall assign another Centurion to go with you, Mr. Averline. In the meantime, I still must contact the Dearden and O¡¯Ceallaigh Covens about the fate of the Moliere Coven.¡±

    Clement turns her still sharp gaze on Sheldon this time as she hands me the protective spray, and I¡¯m starting to think there¡¯s no winning with the Inquisition. Either that or I¡¯m massively misinterpreting her looks. Sheldon doesn¡¯t seem worried about what he said, so I could just be paranoid after that first impression.

    ¡°I suppose I should get going then,¡± I offer.

    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re dismissed,¡± Sheldon agrees, but there¡¯s a dark look in his gaze that tells me we aren¡¯t finished. Honestly, his decision to hold back his anger at my seeing Erra is so impressive that I can¡¯t say I don¡¯t deserve whatever he has in store for me. His gaze returns to our guest for now. ¡°Agent Clement, you mentioned wanting to tour the offices?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± the Inquisition agent replies, and I hope the rest of the Order is ready for the oppressive air she carries with her.

    I leave the office before she can ask me further questions, making a beeline for the elevator and hoping they don¡¯t catch up with me before it gets moving. Fortunately, I make it into the elevator and the doors close, leaving me to release a long breath as it heads down to the fifth floor again. As I walk towards Chiaki¡¯s office, all the conversation I hear surrounds the Inquisition. Most of us have never dealt directly with an agent before, and there¡¯s a level of excitement and nerves that hangs over the entire floor. I¡¯m pretty sure the excitement will be squashed out very quickly.

    Chiaki is hard at work as usual, looking somewhat exasperated as I walk into her office to interrupt her. ¡°I need you to come with me to Margadh Si¨®g.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡± she asks.

    ¡°Sheldon wants to focus our efforts on Muir, the Fae who¡¯s allied with Erra. Apparently, he¡¯s ancient so I want to check the Archives to make sure there¡¯s no surprises¡­like him not being weak against iron or something.¡±

    ¡°But the market isn¡¯t safe,¡± she points out.

    I hold up the bottle. ¡°Magical Inquisition perfume says it is.¡±

    She doesn¡¯t look convinced, and her sigh says that she¡¯s not thrilled I¡¯m asking her to accompany me. ¡°Let me finish this report and I can meet you at the statue?¡±

    ¡°Sure, just send me a text when you¡¯re on your way.¡±

    Chiaki agrees and I leave her to it. It will give me time to go back to the armory and get equipment. It¡¯s not ideal to bring weapons to the market, but I¡¯ve learned by now that it¡¯s better to be safe than sorry.

 Chapter Six | In Secrets, Power

    I¡¯m standing by the statue of Thomas Cass in Boston Common, frowning at the bangle around my wrist. I¡¯ve avoided looking at it as much as possible, expecting to find it didn¡¯t work and my arm getting zombified. So far so good, there¡¯s no sign the poison is spreading.

    ¡°That¡¯s an interesting choice,¡± Chiaki says, coming to join me at the hidden entrance to the market and staring at the monstrosity around my wrist.

    ¡°Ms Ito¡­are you throwing shade?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I need to,¡± she replies. It¡¯s true, meanwhile she¡¯s always so presentable. Here I am in jeans that are a little too baggy, a shirt that¡¯s wrinkled and my light jacket in need of a wash. Meanwhile, Chiaki¡¯s black hair falls freely down her shoulders and I realize I never knew how long it was until today since she always wears it up in the office. She has a white blouse on beneath a dark blue blazer and dark jeans.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­a family heirloom. You just insulted at least fifteen generations of Averlines,¡± I insist.

    She graces me with a wry look before ensuring we¡¯re not being watched or noticed by anyone. Coast clear, she whispers the password to the statue and the hatch opens long enough for both of us to slip inside the tunnel. Before we go down it, I take the bottle and, unsure how much we need, enthusiastically spray us both until we¡¯re uncomfortably damp in places. For added protection, Chiaki wraps a scarf around her lower face while I pull the neck of my t-shirt up over mine. Then we travel down the dark tunnel without speaking, coming through to Margadh Si¨®g together. Right away I see the changes that came over the market. There¡¯s little activity in the streets winding before us, and many of the shops¡¯ windows are shuttered. The bar carved into the nearby boulder is empty, a sign indicating it¡¯s also closed, and what people are walking in the streets have their faces covered, keep to themselves, and do not wander, going immediately to their destinations.

    ¡°This is terrible,¡± Chiaki whispers.

    There was always a sense of life in Margadh Si¨®g and not just for the streets that were once so busy. There were lichen and mushrooms that were once luminous with their own light, only now they are dull and withered. Like Boston above, there¡¯s a large section of the market that is free of buildings and left for vegetation; a beautiful park where one can, as rumor has it, spy unicorns if they¡¯re lucky enough. It¡¯s all dead now. Greens turned to browns; vibrant colors sucked away to nondescript beiges and grays.

    With no clear idea how dangerous it is for us to be out in the open like this, I urge Chiaki forward and head directly towards the Archives. I entertained the thought of going to Leander¡¯s shop, or even Jack¡¯s, to see if I could get more information, but after arriving in the market I don¡¯t want to risk it.

    I don¡¯t want to know if they died in the blight. My chest tightens and my hand clenches into a fist¡­Why couldn¡¯t I have gotten here sooner? If only I got here sooner.

    We¡¯re not accosted at all on the way to the Archives, and it¡¯s a relief to feel the lingering dread left behind as soon as we step inside. Here, at least, things operate as normal. Except for the fact that instead of a Fae waiting to ask us what we need, the Head Archivist stands in wait for us. Vasilisa is someone I wonder about; about how much she sees and knows¡­Did she know about Henry and Erra? If she did, why didn¡¯t she stop it? Her fine brow lifts minutely, a sign she hears my unasked questions? Or a reaction to my intense stare?

    ¡°Riley,¡± she says, her richly warm voice as soothing as a hot bath.

    ¡°Vasilisa,¡± I reply. ¡°This is Chiaki Ito, a fellow Centurion. Chiaki, this is the Head Archivist.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you,¡± Chiaki says with a bow, one Vasilisa returns.

    ¡°And you,¡± the dragon replies. ¡°You need not worry of the blight here; I assure you the Archives are clean. Come, I¡¯ve been expecting you for some time now.¡±

    I exchange a glance with Chiaki, but Vasilisa is already walking away from us, towards the other end of the grand hall we¡¯re in. It¡¯s quiet in the Archives. Normally there¡¯s not a whole lot of noise, but you¡¯d still hear the whispered conversation of those seeking knowledge. Not so much today, today it might as well be a tomb. I do see others though, and that makes me feel better somehow. A few Fae filing heavy tomes along the shelves, a Fomorian here and there making their security rounds.

    The private reading room we enter towards the back of the Archives is cozy. The lighting is warm, the armchairs look squishy, and there¡¯s a few oak tables with highbacked chairs set at them. It is at one of these tables Vasilisa stands, waiting for us. I see stacks of heavy books on the table, between the pillars of these makeshift towers rolled up scrolls are balanced. There¡¯s enough reading material on this one table to last a month. Beyond the immediate light illuminating the reading table, I sense more than see, the many bookcases in the shadows holding even more information.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t kidding about expecting us,¡± I look from the table to Vasilisa. ¡°I take it this is everything you have on Erra?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    There¡¯s something reserved about her, not that she¡¯s ever completely forthcoming. Still, the note in her tone suggests this isn¡¯t easy for her, and questions burst in my mind that I don¡¯t feel comfortable asking while Chiaki is here. I force them to remain unvoiced and move closer to the table instead. There are books scattered across the surface with text I can¡¯t hope to decipher. Chiaki¡¯s good with languages though, so I¡¯ll leave those to her. Even with that decided, there is still a heaping amount of reading set before me.

    ¡°I shall leave you to it,¡± the dragon says.

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to help us go through it?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No,¡± she replies curtly.

    I consider reneging on my decision not to ask pressing questions, but there¡¯s something akin to danger in her eyes when they meet my stern gaze. Vasilisa has always been an ally, albeit of a different sort, I really shouldn¡¯t risk changing that now. So, instead of my barrage of inquiries, I straighten slightly, holding my head up high. ¡°Very well. Thank you for this,¡± I gesture to the items on the table.

    ¡°Fair fortune to you both.¡±

    She departs from the reading room and only when we hear the door echoing shut does Chiaki look at me quizzically. ¡°Is there something I should know?¡± she asks.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admit. ¡°She¡¯s always been cryptic, not the sort to hold your hand through a problem.¡± When I came here looking for information on the werewolf killer, Vasilisa told me a story rather than a linear checklist of facts. A story that echoed my own with Henry and Amelia, and made me hate the Head Archivist for digging up my pain until I realized she was speaking of Elena, Castillo and their daughter who was also lost.

    ¡°Well,¡± Chiaki sighs, moving to one of the chairs at the table. ¡°We better get started then.¡±

    I grunt an agreement and sit down across from her, grabbing the nearest scroll and opening the ancient document carefully. ¡°How¡¯s your Greek?¡± I ask, recognizing the alphabet, but that¡¯s about where my usefulness ends.

    ¡°Let me see,¡± she says, taking the heavy paper from me. Her eyes scan over the text, and I see her lips forming around the words as she spells them out for herself. ¡°This is about a¡­weapon, I think. Only, I don¡¯t know what kind of weapon. And¡­¡± Chiaki shakes her head, like she doesn¡¯t want to say it. I¡¯m immediately reminded of the smart kid in class who doesn¡¯t want to chance being wrong about something. ¡°One forged by Hephaestus?¡±

    ¡°By who now?¡±

    ¡°Hephaestus,¡± Chiaki repeats.

    ¡°Yeah¡­that doesn¡¯t help.¡±

    ¡°From¡­Mount Olympus,¡± Chiaki says. ¡°The God of Smithing.¡±

    ¡°Come on,¡± I laugh. ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous. I know there¡¯s a lot to the world we don¡¯t know, but we¡¯ll go totally off the rails here if we consider this as fact.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m having trouble with it myself, Riley,¡± Chiaki admits. ¡°But that¡¯s what the text says. Let¡¯s see what else we can learn, but keep this one separated so we can go back to it. If it is about a weapon forged by a¡­a god, it may be what we need to fight Erra.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but¡­¡± I trail off.

    ¡°I said fight. Not kill.¡±

    I look across the table at her. ¡°So, you¡­?¡±

    Her expression softens. ¡°If there¡¯s a way to save Henry, I want to help you find it,¡± she clarifies.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    She smiles and I feel my lips pull into a soft smile too. I didn¡¯t count on her as someone who would help, but then this isn¡¯t the first time I misjudged Chiaki. I need to give her more credit. The silence between us starts to feel a little awkward though, so I clear my throat to bring us back to the task at hand. We still have a mountain to get through, one that¡¯s probably just as hard to summit as the fabled Mount Olympus that we¡¯re now apparently supposed to consider real.

    I¡¯m not sure how long we sit in silence while we read until I eventually look up from dusty pages and stretch. I see Chiaki is totally absorbed in the tattered document she holds. ¡°Something useful?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but it¡¯s certainly fascinating,¡± she replies. ¡°It¡¯s an ancient account, I don¡¯t know who could have written it, but¡­well, let me read it. I think I¡¯ve got it translated well enough by now. He took the children of All who fell from favor and made them his own. Cast from Paradise, ¡ªand then there¡¯s a bit I can¡¯t figure out¡­left to the wilderness something dangerous. These peoples wandered and grieved the loss of their All. But in the skies to the west there was a sign, not the light of All but a shadow. Smoke. Fire. The people followed the sign ¡ª something about the sunset, with great fear. In time they came between the two rivers and the air was very hot. The waters of the rivers boiled and they thought this, briefly, the work of demons. Until he came.

    ¡°It was a corrupted beauty that met them; big black horns twisted like a crown around a face so pale. Eyes measuring them as if he thought to eat them. Black robes covered his gargantuan form, like smoke, like shadow. His voice rippled like thunder, soothing as ocean waves yet carrying the danger inherent in the deep. He questioned the people who had come to him, and they told this strange being of their plight. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°The broken divinity confessed he met the same fate and that he would claim the Lost Children. He promised to share secrets with them if they could bring him obsidian. I think it goes on to talk about specific obsidian, or they had to do something to it? I¡¯m not sure, I couldn¡¯t make it out.

    ¡°And the people hurried to do as he bid, for this was a creature they did not know and they wanted to be taken in even if the creature scared them. It took them forty-two days to find obsidian and they returned to the place between the rivers and presented it to the scorching sun.

    ¡°A great hand was held over the obsidian and ashen skin became red as flame came from beneath it to curl around his arm. It flowed from his palm and into the obsidian.

    ¡°¡®It is the last of my flames,¡± the great being said. ¡°It will give you knowledge. Take it into your bodies, it won¡¯t cause death.¡¯

    ¡°But it did cause pain. For seven days and seven nights the Lost Children writhed and screamed in pain as the blight of their new divinity burned at their flesh and blood and thoughts. And in that burning they had visions of the exquisite paradise of All, of the truth. Many of them could not bear this truth and dashed their skulls against the rocks to be free of it, but those who did remain were given enlightenment by He of the Light. They called him merciful, ignoring the wicked gleam to his eyes.

    ¡°And they asked their god how could they repay him for his gift and he said to build a great city in his honor. So began the construction of Akkad. Built to honor him, it was a spectacle. A marvel of architecture, a gathering of intellectual minds and all it took was a twist, a whisper, to put such minds to weapons and death. This would be the start of conquest, corrupting the Lost Children as he¡¯d been corrupted, and leading them to war.¡±

    I let the story sink in, not entirely sure how much of it was meant to be allegorical and how much was meant as historical fact. I can¡¯t wrap my head around this vision of some great titan granting forbidden knowledge to ancient humans. Like Prometheus, minus the consequences. I fold my arms across my chest, thinking hard on everything Chiaki just read. ¡°Akkad,¡± I murmur. ¡°That¡¯s a place, right? It could be a lead.¡±

    ¡°It was a city in Mesopotamia,¡± Chiaki replies.

    ¡°So¡­Iraq?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Oh shit, Ulysses mentioned that at the Council! He said Erra sacked Babylon, what you just read must have preceded that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s also indicative that Erra was seen as a deity too,¡± Chiaki adds with a frown. ¡°These ¡®lost children¡¯ worshipped him as one, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s ¡®All¡¯? That came up a few times,¡± I¡¯m still not ready to think about actual ancient gods roaming around the Earth.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Chiaki sighs. ¡°I was able to make a quick codex for most of this, but I couldn¡¯t find a better word for that.¡±

    ¡°All right. So, we¡¯ve confirmed he¡¯s ancient, had followers, and waged war. We don¡¯t know why he waged war, but I guess it proves no one at the Council was lying.¡± I still feel frustrated given that our new, more in-depth perspective still doesn¡¯t provide much in the way of helping Henry, or even stopping Erra.

    ¡°And what have you found?¡±

    I ignore the snip in her tone. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen ancient Fae being immune to typical weaknesses, per se, but I did come across a bit about cold iron and ash. The combination of the two is either lethal or just¡­really bad.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s be sure of which, we don¡¯t want to kill Muir.¡±

    ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± I grumble.

    ¡°Riley.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know. It was a joke,¡± sort of, not really. ¡°Wait, let¡¯s go back to that first scroll. Maybe the weapon mentioned is related to this cold iron and ash thing.¡±

    Chiaki shuffles some books and journals aside and grabs the first text she read. Her eyes move quickly over the parchment and she shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯m not seeing anything about cold iron or ash,¡± she says. ¡°But there are some words I don¡¯t recognize and can¡¯t figure out. The roots are completely different even from Classical Greek.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can¡¯t find those unknown words in more of these texts,¡± I suggest. ¡°Maybe with more context we¡¯ll be able to figure out the meaning.¡±

    Chiaki agrees and we¡¯re back to scanning through books and scrolls again. We sit in silence for hours, and as time crawls by and my patience wans, I get distracted by the numbness of my ass and the restlessness of my legs. My eyes are burning, and I need to reread every other sentence as my mind starts drifting despite how much I tell it to focus. I¡¯m falling into a sort of daze that I¡¯m violently snapped out of when Chiaki slaps her hand on the table.

    ¡°Wh-what?¡±

    ¡°Wake up, I think I found something about it,¡± she says. ¡°There¡¯s reference to ¡®iron cast by those who were found¡¯ and its effectiveness against would-be foes.¡±

    ¡°Those who were found¡­Erra¡¯s Lost Children?¡± I guess. ¡°Queen Aine talked about how Erra wiped out the Tuatha De Danann, so it stands to reason the Fae and their kin stood against him. Makes sense, if he¡¯s such a blight he¡¯s pretty much the exact opposite of what the Fae stand for.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m curious what other properties this ¡®cold iron¡¯ has that regular iron does not. Plain iron is already dangerous to the Fae.¡±

    ¡°It probably has something to do with that forbidden knowledge,¡± I reply. ¡°So, maybe we can try to find more information about that. We can also look to see if what they made is the same weapon that first scroll talked about, the one that mentioned that smithing god. Or, maybe that was something to counter the cold iron¡­fuck, this is really hard considering how much time has passed since then!¡±

    ¡°And most of the remaining texts we have here I can¡¯t read,¡± Chiaki sighs, matching my frustration. ¡°The language is too archaic; I don¡¯t even know where to begin.¡±

    We¡¯re quiet again as we think hard of what to do next. ¡°We could ask someone who was there,¡± I suggest. ¡°Both the O¡¯Ceallaighs, or the Fae queens¡­or Sheldon.¡±

    ¡°Sheldon?¡±

    I think of Erra passing on his regards, and the fear on Sheldon¡¯s face when he first laid eyes on Erra in the black market. I can¡¯t shake that it was a fear on a personal level, not just because of stories he heard about the sunset king. ¡°Yeah,¡± I reply. ¡°I know it sounds crazy, but what doesn¡¯t at this point?¡±

    ¡°True,¡± she agrees, not sounding convinced on my theory. ¡°They may have a better idea of where we can find this cold iron, the ash too. There must be an additional property to it that makes it so much more dangerous to the Fae than the usual kind.¡±

    ¡°Which we can then use to get Muir to talk,¡± I add. ¡°If we manage to capture him, that is.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Chiaki replies. ¡°Although, I still think there is something to this other weapon. I suppose we can ask Mr. Sheldon about Hephaestus too.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s too bad Vasilisa is being so dodgy¡­I imagine dragon fire would be just as effective and a lot easier to come by since she¡¯s right here.¡±

    ¡°You may want to find out about that,¡± Chiaki lowers her voice, looking around even though the door leading to the room hasn¡¯t been opened since Vasilisa left. ¡°It would be wise to know her angle in all of this.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I mean, she did get all of this for us,¡± I indicate the table¡¯s contents. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean there¡¯s nothing between the lines. All right. You look through whatever else you can translate; I¡¯m going to seek her out. Hell, if nothing else, maybe she can answer about the weapon or weapons and we can spare ourselves the torture of trying to get information out of Mr. Sheldon.¡±

    I get up and leave the private reading room. The Archives are still quiet, the rows and rows of shelves seeming to hum in the silence. Fairy lights drift about, casting shimmering hues of the rainbows over the grand hall. I hear footsteps on the stone floor, dampened now and then when they cross ornate rugs. I strain my memory to retrace the steps I took two years ago, to where I know Vasilisa¡¯s lair is. I half expect to be stopped by the few Fae I do come across along the way, but they don¡¯t have orders to deter me even if some of them look like they want to. Between those cross looks and my own horrible sense of direction, I nearly call it quits when I find myself at yet another dead end after a long corridor. I turn sharply, throat tight, and startle when I see one of those fairy lights bobbing in front of my face. It takes everything in me not to lift my hand and swat it out of my space. It flits to and fro, then takes off in the direction I just came from. I watch it curiously, seeing the way it pauses and circles around as if waiting for me. It is waiting for me, because when I finally follow it, the fairy light continues onwards.

    We take a few turns and go through some doorways I missed entirely on my own, and now the stone walls that form impressive arches above us look more familiar. The rustic scones along the walls holding candles wash the stone in a yellowish light, and the air is dry and warm, warmer still the closer we get to Vasilisa¡¯s home. Not much has changed in the gargantuan cavern. There are the shelves with Vasilisa¡¯s personal collection of titles, the chaise lounge chair at the edge of the precipice, a large bed with a crystal chandelier above it. Vasilisa is at a desk that wasn¡¯t there the last time I came here. She¡¯s mixing some kind of potion¡­or poison, dropping ingredients into a pot while vibrant liquids bubble and froth in nearby beakers.

    ¡°I could not stand to see your wandering any longer,¡± she admits, waving a hand to dismiss the fairy light.

    ¡°I appreciate your mercy,¡± I reply. ¡°Can I ask you something?¡±

    ¡°I did get you here,¡± Vasilisa points out.

    ¡°Good point. So, any chance you can tell me about cold iron? Or ash? Or Hephaestus?¡±

    ¡°I shall not.¡±

    I frown, considering her choice of words. ¡°But you could.¡±

    ¡°I have done all I am willing to do,¡± she replies. ¡°Your decision to ask others is the right one, but you shall not have more from me.¡±

    ¡°Because the stakes aren¡¯t high or anything,¡± I say through my teeth. ¡°This is the perfect time to be stubborn.¡±

    ¡°I do not expect you to understand, Riley. Just know that while I do not stand with Erra, I also do not stand against him.¡±

    ¡°Your inaction is his gain,¡± I point out.

    ¡°If you must see it so¡­¡±

    ¡°And you won¡¯t tell me why. You won¡¯t help me understand?¡±

    ¡°I know love because of Erra.¡±

    My brow furrows. ¡°What about Muir?¡±

    ¡°I was not in love with Erra.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°It is not pertinent to your quest, Riley. It would be a grave betrayal for me to give you more aid and I will not justify my reasons. Take solace in my neutrality, and go forth with the information you gained here today. Ask your questions, those you hold alliance with can answer them, but trouble me no more.¡±

    What sort of bond did she and Erra have? I know Vasilisa is ancient, so it stands to reason she was around while Erra was first becoming a threat in Mesopotamia, but what did she mean? How could he teach her what love is if they were never in love? My mind spins with possibilities, none of which seem to fully explain what the answer could be. Yet, whatever it was that Erra did for her, it¡¯s not enough for her to side with him completely, and I know I need to be thankful for that. In return, I won¡¯t tell the Order about her private affairs with Erra, because I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll take her stance as one of hostility. The last thing we need is to make an enemy of the world¡¯s last dragon. Her expression softens, leading me to believe, once again, that she can read my thoughts. Or at least my intentions.

    ¡°Thanks for the books,¡± I mutter.

    ¡°Thank you for your understanding.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t understand, but I¡¯m trying to accept that this is just the way things are going to be.¡±

    Vasilisa nods, obviously satisfied enough by this compromise, and I turn to depart. She doesn¡¯t stop me, and so I leave her without any parting words. Outside her lair, the same fairy light bobs up and down and I let it lead me back to the main hall of the Archives, where it then darts off to join its fellows while I return to the private reading room. Chiaki is still pouring over musty pages.

    ¡°Anything else?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Nothing I can make out,¡± she sighs. ¡°And the Head Archivist?¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t answer the questions,¡± I reply. ¡°But she did say that our idea to ask the O¡¯Ceallaighs or the queens is a good one. I think Sheldon was included in that too, unfortunately.¡±

    ¡°The safe house is probably set up by now,¡± Chiaki continues. ¡°We could arrange for a meeting there. That way we don¡¯t have to keep asking the same questions, and¡­well, if Mr. Sheldon does plan to withhold information, he may be less inclined to do so with our allies present.¡±

    ¡°I like your thinking, Chi.¡±

    Because we can¡¯t make anything else out in the texts, we pack up our things and make ready to depart Margadh Si¨®g. Chiaki once again wraps the scarf around her face while I pull my shirt up again. We head directly for the exit, not daring to linger especially with the greenish haze that seems to have sprung up around the market while we were in the Archives. This is what the rest of the world can expect because of Erra. I know how important it is to stop him, and quickly, but every time we make progress, I am reluctant to continue forward. So far, no one has mentioned any means of saving Henry. I can¡¯t say for sure if anyone even knows if there¡¯s a way to save him. Which means I may have to find the means with nothing to point me in the right direction. The impossibility of that task weighs me down, the immensity of it so powerful in that moment I almost want to sink to my knees there on main street and let the blight take me. That won¡¯t help Henry though, so I force my feet to continue forward.

 Chapter Seven | To Find a God

    Since I know Sheldon is going to want to yell at me about seeing Erra, I readily agree to let Chiaki approach him to discuss a joint meeting at the safe house. In the meantime, I¡¯ll try contacting Brianna so she and Castillo can be in on the plan. I¡¯d go directly to Castillo¡¯s place, but I highly doubt he¡¯s going to be there right now. He strikes me as the type of person who rarely has down time; too many enemies, too many enterprises to run, too many schemes to avoid detection by law enforcement.

    I go to my office to call Brianna, pulling out my mobile and hoping she hasn¡¯t changed her number since we worked together against Elena. It rings a few times and I¡¯m about to curse my bad luck when the line connects and I hear her voice on the other end.

    ¡°Hello?¡±

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s me,¡± I reply. ¡°Riley.¡±

    ¡°Oh! Hey, what¡¯s up?¡±

    ¡°Wait, did you erase my number?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Was I not supposed to?¡±

    ¡°Never mind. Chiaki and I have some new information that we wanted to share with everyone. Can you and your boss meet us at the safe house?¡±

    ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°Soon¡­ish?¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you call me when you had an exact time? Dumbass.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to avoid Sheldon,¡± I admit.

    ¡°Fucked up again, huh?¡± she asks, and I can just picture her amused smirk.

    ¡°You know me,¡± I sigh. ¡°Causing disasters left and right.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯s endearing,¡± she chuckles. ¡°Call me back when you know the where and the when. If Castillo can¡¯t make it, then I¡¯ll make sure I can at least.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    The call didn¡¯t last nearly as long as I wanted it to, and while I¡¯m keen on avoiding Sheldon, I¡¯m also antsy about following up on what we learned in the Archives. With that in mind, I prepare myself to be verbally torn asunder and leave my office. I don¡¯t go directly to Sheldon¡¯s, however, and investigate Chiaki¡¯s instead to see if she¡¯s there. When I see the figure at the desk, I blow a sigh of relief and head inside.

    ¡°Good, you¡¯re here. Mr. Sheldon has agreed to communicating with our allies to have another council at the safe house. He does¡­wish to speak to you privately, so I suggest you report in,¡± Chiaki greets me with business as usual as soon as I walk in. She hasn¡¯t looked up from the paperwork she¡¯s going over until after her spiel, and now that she observes me, her expression shifts. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah I¡¯m fine,¡± I reply, even if I feel like I¡¯m about to face an executioner. ¡°So, that¡¯s good news. Hopefully they¡¯ll get back to him on when soon. Brianna¡¯s agreed to come too, and she¡¯ll check in with Castillo after we get the date and location of the safe house.¡±

    ¡°I think this will be a chance to make a lot of progress,¡± Chiaki says.

    ¡°I think you¡¯re right,¡± I feel emboldened by her positivity on the matter, and let myself focus on that instead. At least we have a direction to follow, and with the likes of our ancient allies, the means to follow it down the right path.

    ¡°Is Agent Clement still here?¡± I ask. ¡°I really don¡¯t want to bump into her again.¡±

    ¡°I believe she¡¯s off to check in with the regional offices.¡±

    I mentally tally how much time that will take. She¡¯ll likely head west to Worcester first, and then all the way out to North Adams and finally back east to stop by Hyannis before returning to Boston. It could be done in a day, but it¡¯s at least 12 hours without needing to worry about her walking back into HQ.  Since I don¡¯t want there to be even a slight chance for Clement to join in on Sheldon¡¯s reaming, I depart from Chiaki¡¯s office and head to the elevator to go back to the top floor without more delays. I feel like I¡¯m spending way too much time up here lately.

    Sheldon¡¯s door is open already, and I grimace as I walk down the hall to step into his office. He looks up at me with his piercing green eyes, and I focus on taking deep, even breaths.

    ¡°I ought to have you incarcerated,¡± he says immediately.

    I say nothing, deciding silence is safer unless he asks me a question directly.

    ¡°But I do not think doing so would teach you anything. You are unteachable, Averline. And for whatever good you have done for the Order over the years, it has left the impression you are immune to scrutiny. I will not stand up for you when the Inquisition comes for their inquiry, and while you may think this a light sentence, trust me when I say you will wish I stripped you of your rank and suspended you indefinitely instead. As it stands, Chief Glass is on probation and will likely suffer Ms. Carver¡¯s fate.¡±

    Blood thunders in my ears and my hands shake slightly. I didn¡¯t think he would try and get me out of the inquiry at all, so while I am afraid of what¡¯s to come, I¡¯m not surprised. I¡¯m only enraged at Glass¡¯s fate. Then again, he did warn me that this would happen if I stepped out of line. The argument I want to launch at Sheldon dies in my throat.

    ¡°Is there anything I can do to convince you not to fire Chief?¡±

    ¡°It is a little late to start considering others,¡± Sheldon sneers. ¡°That you only do so after consequences says very much to your lack of discipline. After this council meeting, you will be taken off this case¡ª¡±

    ¡°But¡ª!¡±

    ¡°Silence!¡± he snaps. ¡°What did you expect? You are too irrational to be trusted in this matter. Your na?ve desire to save Stone puts everyone else at risk! But I tell you now, Averline, Stone is dead!¡±

    I shake my head, wishing I could strike Sheldon down with my glare alone.

    ¡°Do you know how easy it would have been for Erra to break your mind and gain access to classified information that could cripple us? No, of course you did not consider that. You consider nothing beyond your selfish desires!¡±

    ¡°That isn¡¯t fucking true!¡±

    ¡°Then how did your visit to Erra benefit anyone?¡± Sheldon demands.

    ¡°Well,¡± I hate that my voice shakes, but I can¡¯t find it in me to control it. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t, I wouldn¡¯t have confirmed that you and Erra know each other and maybe Chiaki and I wouldn¡¯t have thought to gain insight from those who were there when Erra first came around.¡±

    Sheldon pales considerably, and his mouth twists into an ugly grimace. ¡°Once again, you think you know everything.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t,¡± I retort. ¡°I don¡¯t have any idea how you might know him, how it could be at all possible that you¡¯re so old. I know those with magic live long lives, but not this long. Maybe if you had been upfront about things, I wouldn¡¯t feel the need to dig out the answers on my own.¡±

    ¡°My history is inconsequential,¡± Sheldon says coldly. ¡°As I wasn¡¯t foolish enough to go rushing off to his penthouse, without any substantial plan of defense for myself or the Order.¡±

    ¡°I wonder if the council would think it¡¯s inconsequential,¡± I glower.

    ¡°Continue pushing me, Averline, and you will not be permitted to attend the council and will never find out.¡±

    ¡°What are you so fucking afraid of?¡± I shout. ¡°You expect us all to stay in line and not ask questions, not seek answers, while you keep everything so close to the goddamn chest! Of course some of us are going to try and find our own solutions!¡±

    ¡°Do not pin your ineptitude on me,¡± Sheldon replies. ¡°And ask yourself instead how many of your fellow Centurions have broken laws as you do to find their own solutions.¡±

    What bothers me the most is that I see his point. I accept that it¡¯s my fault Chief Glass is in the shit, that it¡¯s my fault I¡¯m in the shit. We¡¯ve carefully arranged this joint coalition with the Inquisition, the Fae Courts, the vampires, the werewolves and here I am going behind all of their backs because I¡¯m adding a rescue on top of everything else. I accept it, but I do not regret it, because Henry is worth whatever I will have to face for my actions, and while deep down I know Henry would never agree, I¡¯m certain that he¡¯s worth whatever consequences anyone else will have to face too. I won¡¯t take what Sheldon said about Henry to heart. I won¡¯t accept that he¡¯s dead. If he was¡­then I don¡¯t think I¡¯d still be here. Erra passed along his blight, it¡¯ll take me eventually, but I can¡¯t forget the surprise from Muir when Erra told me to leave. I think the bastard expected a bloody show instead, and couldn¡¯t fathom the idea of Erra simply letting me go. Maybe I¡¯m grasping at straws, but I¡¯d rather keep to that hope than let the lurking darkness consume me completely.

    And while I can do a lot even without the Order, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll have enough without their resources.

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I say carefully. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± God I fucking hate having to tell him that. I hate that it¡¯s true and not me just saying what I think he wants to hear. ¡°I rush into shit, and I don¡¯t consider what it might mean for everyone else. I let my emotions rule me in times when I should rely on logic. Whatever¡­your business with Erra might be, it doesn¡¯t change the mistakes I¡¯ve made.¡±

    Sheldon says nothing, he only regards me coolly from where he sits. I sigh heavily, because what comes next is no easier than admitting what I just did.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t take me off this case,¡± I continue. ¡°I¡¯ll reign it in, I promise. But I can still do a lot of good, those connections I have that you may not entirely approve of¡­they can benefit all of us.¡±

    ¡°You are probably the only reason the werewolves are with us,¡± Sheldon says after an awkward pause. ¡°And your ties with the Head Archivist are valuable as well, hence my intervention with Agent Clement in the first place¡­¡± He leans back in his chair, suddenly looking exhausted. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you can help yourself. I have no faith that you will suddenly ¡®turn it around.¡¯ You¡¯ve been reckless since the day you joined the Order.¡±

    I¡¯m about to argue, but he holds up a hand to stop me.

    ¡°As such, you will be permitted to stay on the case, but you will be relieved of all leadership roles. Ms Ito will take over on the Centurion side, and keep in mind if you attempt to manipulate her into letting you get away with anything out of bounds, then you will both be punished accordingly.¡±

    He really has a terrible opinion of me. I¡¯m almost certain he¡¯s going to fire me once we deal with Erra. Maybe even before then.

    ¡°Get out of my sight,¡± he concludes. ¡°I will let Ms Ito know when the next council will take place.¡±

    I can¡¯t stop thinking about Chief Glass as I slink back into my office. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m going to be able to face him after what happened. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll be able to face any of the Centurions either. Glass has always been popular here, and while I can hope Chiaki will take over, I¡¯m not certain that¡¯s on Sheldon¡¯s agenda.

    I stare blindly at my desktop screen, giving up on getting any actual work done that afternoon as my brain takes a nosedive into negativity. I really have fucked things up this time, and everyone else is paying for it. Glass, Chiaki, maybe it extends as far as Henry too. How am I ever going to convince Sheldon to give me a chance to save him now? Those words tear through my thoughts again; Stone is dead! Echoing loudly while Erra¡¯s cruel smile plays in high definition across my inward gaze.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Every time fellow Centurions pass my office talking, I¡¯m sure they¡¯re talking about me and what I did to Glass. I want to convince myself that it¡¯s a small reprieve to worry about what the gossip is rather than focusing on my thoughts, but it doesn¡¯t last, and so I¡¯m stuck in the horrible state of one or the other with no breaks in between. Time is agony as minutes creep by with all the agency of a slug and without hearing about the council, there¡¯s nothing I can truly focus on. No small case comes in that can get me out of the office, no inter-department meeting, it¡¯s just me waiting until my shift ends so I can get the fuck out of here and drown my misery in booze. That makes me feel more selfish than I already did, and I kick the underside of my desk in frustration.

    Eventually, I find a new way to organize my desk¡¯s contents that helps whittle away the time until I can finally call it a day and head home. I avoid catching anyone¡¯s gaze as I head towards the elevator, and while I hoped stepping outside onto Beacon Street might alleviate my mood, it doesn¡¯t have the effect I desired. Going home doesn¡¯t sound appealing either, and while I consider going to Billy¡¯s, I don¡¯t think I have it in me to deal with Carver, who would probably agree with Sheldon on my recent performance. I need Henry.

    But Henry isn¡¯t here anymore.

    I end up going home and locking myself away from the world. While I could argue it does me good, the truth is I just look at the obnoxious bangle around my wrist and ruminate about Erra. I convince myself I¡¯m letting Henry down by staying in Boston, and that the only thing I should be doing is going to the penthouse to try and force Erra to the background so Henry has an actual chance. Then I remember those indifferent eyes, not Henry¡¯s eyes, and the contempt I caught in Erra¡¯s expression. It¡¯s going to take more than pleading to solve this, and as much as I can espouse how much I love Henry and believe in him, this isn¡¯t a fairy-tale.

    A full 24-hours go by before my phone rings. I assume it¡¯s going to be Chief Glass telling me I¡¯m late for my shift, then I remember that Glass isn¡¯t in charge anymore. I pick up the call and hear Chiaki¡¯s voice on the other end telling me to ¡°get to the following location within the hour,¡± before giving me the address. It must be the safe house. I can¡¯t tell if she¡¯s annoyed that I didn¡¯t show up at headquarters, and frankly¡­I don¡¯t give a damn right now.

    I¡¯m heading to Cambridge, to a house that¡¯s nearby the Charles River and Harvard Business School. I get on the red line, silently bemoaning my fate because the train is packed and there¡¯s 10 stops from here to Central. I should have brought headphones. Or alcohol. Since I have neither, I let my gaze glaze over and keep my grip on the support rod tight as the train consistently lurches with every stop and go. After nearly an hour of being jostled and bombarded by advertisements, I stumble off the train and into Central Station, following the throng of people up to the street. It¡¯s another 10 minutes of walking to Hew Street, and then I come across the safe house.

    It''s a really nice place. Narrow, like my own, but a bright white with warm lighting inside. It¡¯s three stories, and the yard is completely fenced in. I see a couple cars are parked nearby as I head up the walkway and ascend the stone stairs leading to the heavy entrance door. I¡¯m just raising a hand to ring the bell when it opens to reveal Chiaki. I frown, looking from her to the overside casement window. ¡°Were you hiding behind a curtain or¡­?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a Glamor,¡± Chiaki replies.

    Well, that tells me the Fae are here. When I step inside, however, I see the queens haven¡¯t deigned to join us this time and their knights are here instead. Ulysses is also here from the Order, but I¡¯m surprised by the lack of Sheldon¡¯s chilling presence. Castillo also isn¡¯t here, but Brianna is, and so is Bryn O¡¯Ceallaigh. I also see the shaggy-haired vampire from the Dearden Coven, but no Willow. I suppose we can¡¯t expect the heads of these factions to drop everything every time we call a council, but then it makes me wonder if they¡¯re taking the whole Erra threat as seriously as I thought they would.

    ¡°Is anyone else coming?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Nope, we were waiting on you,¡± Brianna says pointedly, but the upwards nod of her head tells me she¡¯s only teasing. I think.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m here now. Let¡¯s get started.¡±

    I want to ask about Sheldon, but I¡¯m also glad he isn¡¯t here. Ulysses has always been easier to talk to, and I don¡¯t have to worry about getting yelled at in front of all these supernatural representatives. We all shuffle into the living room, which is adjacent to an open chef¡¯s kitchen with a large island. Everything about this house is pristine, white walls and a warm, beachy hardwood floor, dark accents¡­it actually reminds me of a smaller version of Charlemagne¡¯s mansion. I frown, wondering about him and his coven again as I take a seat on the sofa next to Brianna. There¡¯s also some chic looking armchairs and a bench built into the wall, with a small fireplace set in the middle between two windows.

    ¡°So¡­¡± Ulysses begins once everyone is seated. ¡°Why don¡¯t you brief us on what you discovered, Centurions Ito and Averline?¡±

    I glance towards Chiaki where she sits across from me, in one of the chairs. She stands up, taking point on the task, and explains our studies in the Archives and the conclusions we drew from it.

    ¡°They were never just stories,¡± Knight Diarmuid says after a moment¡¯s silence while the group considers everything Chiaki explained. ¡°The myths of the world¡­they were always more than just fiction.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying all these old-time gods were real?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Diarmuid replies easily. ¡°I was quite fond of Aranyani.¡±

    ¡°But¡­gods?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get hung up on the title,¡± Bryn suggests. ¡°They were not human, this is true, but it¡¯s obvious you are thinking too much of what the word connotates.¡±

    ¡°I am too then,¡± Shaggy vampire says. ¡°Because you say god and I think creator or creators of the universe.¡±

    ¡°That is unlikely,¡± Orpheus chimes in. ¡°But not impossible. Regardless, if it helps you to come to terms with it, these beings were simply a different sort of creature; just as there are vampires, werewolves, and Fae, so too are there¡­or were, these exceptionally powerful beings that came to be described as gods.¡±

    ¡°They all died out?¡± I ask.

    ¡°More or less,¡± Orpheus says.

    ¡°How?¡± Chiaki asks.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be here forever if we try to cover the timeline of these beings,¡± Bryn sighs. ¡°We must focus on Erra, and now on Hephaestus as well.¡±

    ¡°What if Hephaestus is dead too?¡± Brianna asks.

    ¡°He is not,¡± Bryn says matter-of-factly.

    ¡°How are you so sure?¡± the werewolf scoffs.

    ¡°Because I spent time with him a few years ago. He is my friend, though I didn¡¯t know he was involved in all of this.¡±

    ¡°Your friend,¡± Ulysses sighs, and it¡¯s unclear whether it is one of exasperation or relief. ¡°Wonders never cease.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t this good news?¡± Probably Tristan asks. He scratches at his shaggy black hair. ¡°I mean, can¡¯t you call him and ask to meet us?¡±

    ¡°He is off-grid,¡± Bryn replies. ¡°I could send him a letter, however¡­¡±

    ¡°Or we could go to him,¡± I say. ¡°Where is he?¡±

    ¡°When I saw him, he was island hopping in the Caribbean.¡±

    Brianna perks up from her seat a bit. ¡°Now we¡¯re talking. I¡¯m so in if we¡¯re going.¡±

    ¡°Must be nice,¡± Shaggy grumbles. ¡°All you have to worry about is smelling like wet dog. I don¡¯t even get to see all those nice blues unless I want to burst into flames.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s not get into such things, Peter,¡± Ulysses admonishes.

    I snort. ¡°Your name is Peter?¡±

    The vampire I assumed was a Tristan or Damien shrugs. ¡°Yeah? Why?¡±

    ¡°Never mind,¡± I notice the warning look both Ulysses and Chiaki give me and decide not to continue the topic. ¡°Would that work though? Us going to Hephaestus?¡± I ask Bryn.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why not,¡± Bryn muses. ¡°He¡¯s very hospitable, he doesn¡¯t have reason to be hostile unless you give him one.¡±

    Brianna now looks pointedly at everyone in the Order. I notice that Orpheus and Diarmuid seem to share her unspoken sentiment. Cerberus¡¯s ill reputation is so great it¡¯s uniting the Faerie Courts. Silver linings¡­

    ¡°What do you think, Incantator?¡± Chiaki asks, still all business. I suppose the looks wouldn¡¯t affect her, she¡¯s not part of the crowd that makes the supernatural community bitter.

    ¡°I think it is our best option. We cannot wait around for letters, and if Hephaestus is more or less welcoming of guests, there¡¯s no reason why we can¡¯t send a small group to ask for his help.¡±

    ¡°What, a small group of Centurions?¡± Brianna asks with a dark smirk. ¡°No way.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m inclined to agree,¡± Diarmuid adds. ¡°The group should better represent our alliance.¡±

    ¡°You have my sword,¡± I say dramatically.

    ¡°Riley¡­¡± Ulysses groans.

    ¡°And my bow!¡± Peter exclaims.

    ¡°Stop,¡± Bryn orders, and while Peter is not in Bryn¡¯s coven, he obviously doesn¡¯t want to challenge the elder vampire and reins it in.

    ¡°I think it¡¯s a good idea,¡± Chiaki says. ¡°The question is who is going to go. Mr. O¡¯Ceallaigh? It may ease the entire mission if you go, seeing as Hephaestus is your friend. However, I understand if coven duties would prevent you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m needed here, I need to be near my coven,¡± Bryn replies. ¡°I will write a letter before you leave, trust me when I say it will be enough to get you through the door.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. I think Riley would be a good choice to go,¡± Chiaki says before Ulysses can nominate someone else.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if Mr. Sheldon would agree with that,¡± he says anyway.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure Mr. Sheldon wouldn¡¯t be remiss to be rid of him for a little while,¡± she replies too quickly.

    She has a point though, and God knows I would love the opportunity to avoid Sheldon as well.

    ¡°Fine,¡± the Senior Incantator says. ¡°You¡¯ll be responsible for his actions.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to fuck this up,¡± I say it more for myself than for anyone here. I need a win; I need to feel like there¡¯s still some hope to all of this.

    ¡°I will attend as well,¡± Orpheus volunteers.

    ¡°I cannot,¡± Diarmuid says. ¡°But I trust you¡¯ll set up another council to brief us all on your endeavors.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Ulysses replies.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± Peter adds. ¡°If my previous comment didn¡¯t, uh, convey that already.¡±

    ¡°Count me in,¡± Brianna grins. ¡°There¡¯s a day at the beach waiting for me.¡±

    ¡°So, that settles it then, yes? Riley, Brianna, Peter, and Orpheus,¡± Ulysses sums up.

    I look at the other three I¡¯ll be traveling with. We¡¯re going to make a very odd group of travelers. I¡¯m hoping Orpheus will ditch the full armor, at least that way he¡¯ll look like another Goth fan with Peter. Brianna¡¯s brightly colored and fashionable clothes will make us all look shabby anyway, so I guess it doesn¡¯t really matter.

    ¡°Are we going to have to use mundane travel?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Diarmuid is the one who answers. ¡°If we were to send you through magical means, or through the Fae paths, it may tip off the enemy.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about you boys, but I¡¯m going first class,¡± Brianna decides. ¡°And if that¡¯s everything¡­are we good to go?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see why not,¡± Chiaki replies.

    ¡°Stay a minute, Knight Orpheus,¡± Bryn requests. ¡°I¡¯ll leave the letter with you.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± the Fae looks indifferent to everything going on. Honestly, I¡¯m surprised he volunteered at all, but I¡¯m not complaining. The Unseelie are not to be trifled with, so I feel safer having him with us since we¡¯re off to meet with a god.

    Chiaki suggests I go home after the meeting, and that she¡¯ll give me the flight details when it¡¯s arranged. With Ulysses agreeing with the decision, I decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth and do just that. I don¡¯t want to go back to headquarters, I don¡¯t want to see the reactions from my fellow Centurions, because news about Chief Glass is sure to have spread by now. I¡¯m dreading that moment where I have to deal with them, but at the same time, I¡¯m using that stress to keep my focus off of Hephaestus and Erra. I don¡¯t know how to deal with that, with the magnitude of that history and that power, so wondering how I¡¯m going to deal with angry coworkers seems the safer thing for my mind right now.

    I find it very difficult to sit still once I get back to my place, and I have half a mind to go to Billy¡¯s apartment to see if I find relief there. I won¡¯t though, I¡¯ll have to explain everything to him and Carver. I will eventually, but I think it needs to happen after this trip south. Then it won¡¯t seem so enormous because we¡¯ll have met and spoken to Hephaestus and I can get everything into a more understandable context. I hope.

    Feeling an imminent frenzy building, I quickly find a show with multiple seasons on Netflix and start binging it. When that doesn¡¯t feel like it¡¯s quite enough, I doom scroll my way through social media in the background. I¡¯m not surprised to see Dylan¡¯s Facebook status is back to single, but I don¡¯t comment as much as my petty side wants to. I do smile when I see new photos of my nephew George. I tell myself I¡¯ll make more of an effort with Camden when all of this is over. For now though, I just keep that smile to myself and half watch the drama unfolding on my TV screen. I¡¯m able to zone out to the show and I eventually fall asleep on my couch. I wake up to the sound of my phone chiming, and grab it from the coffee table to read the text from Chiaki.

    Details sent to your email. Have a safe trip.

    I open the email app on my phone and while I had a brief hope it might be first class it wasn¡¯t a very high hope. That¡¯s just as well, because I¡¯m in coach, but I¡¯m happy to see I¡¯m in the aisle seat and not at the ass end of the plane. It¡¯s a direct flight to Nassau too, thank God, because I hate flying to begin with and layovers only increase my stress tenfold. There are also details for accommodations, an Airbnb townhome called Paradise Rising. Nice of them to spring for that instead of a cheap hotel. I¡¯m leaving later tonight, and not wanting to deal with the potential hate from the Centurions, decide to take a chance and text Chiaki back asking if I can use the day to get ready for the trip.

    Yes, that¡¯s fine.

    There¡¯s nothing to read in the text to say she¡¯s annoyed, but I assume she is anyway and curse the anxiety for assuring me everyone is probably talking about me while I¡¯m gone.  Let them if they¡¯re going to, I have enough to worry about without inventing more problems anyway. I decide to focus my energies on more useful things, and I get up to get all my documents in order and pack. When that doesn¡¯t take me long at all, I spend the rest of the day cleaning my house and working out some of my frustration that way.