《Blood & Paradise | Order of Cerberus I》 Chapter I: The Growing Storm I take a seat in the corner of the caf¨¦. It¡¯s my first time coming to this chic place in North End, where the TD Garden serves as an impressive backdrop to the small, brick building. I was supposed to be here about a week ago, and I can only hope that Henry will still check in despite the lapse. Music plays quietly, not in that obnoxious way that makes it impossible to think or encourages you to get out. The chatter of the baristas is louder, but they sound like they¡¯re pleasantly gossiping, instead of complaining. There¡¯s a couple other people here, they give me the usual looks that I learned to ignore by now. I ordered a coffee with oat milk and turmeric and I¡¯m not sure if I like it. It tastes like a spice shop smells and oddly¡­goaty. I¡¯m so focused on determining whether it''s an acquired taste or just not for me when the door swings open, chimes above jingling merrily in direct juxtaposition to Henry¡¯s expression, which is withdrawn and tight. It could be because the sun is still out and as such he looks ridiculous. Overcoat, gloves, scarf, wide-brimmed hat and large sunglasses. I¡¯d feel bad for him, okay¡­I do feel bad for him, but there¡¯s some instances where the Order of Cerberus needs another perspective. The Sentinels can¡¯t determine what all the gruesome deaths are about, so it¡¯s time to ask the vampires. Of course, I still have issues thinking of Henry as a vampire. I imagine his fellows would say he¡¯s not very good at it. Or maybe I¡¯m just bitter that it happened when it did, after we were done. I wouldn¡¯t say I¡¯m a fang banger or anything, but there is a dangerous allure to those fangs and that hunger. I drink more of my coffee as he crosses the shop to order food he won¡¯t eat, but it keeps the illusion going. I decide I don¡¯t like it, it tastes like old curry but it was expensive so I¡¯m determined to finish it. Henry sits down on the leather loveseat opposite me. It¡¯s exceptionally old and well used, sinking precariously where he sits. I glance at the chair next to me, cushion darkened and stained and I¡¯m suddenly glad I didn¡¯t give the one I¡¯m seated in closer inspection. ¡°I¡¯m glad you came,¡± I said. Henry gives me a wry look that I can¡¯t fault him for. ¡°I know, I know¡­we said Wednesday¡­¡± ¡°And it¡¯s Friday¡­and the wrong week,¡± Henry replied tersely. ¡°I couldn¡¯t get away,¡± I lied. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m here now. What can you tell me about these murders?¡± Henry sighed, letting the issue of my tardiness go as he collected his thoughts on the matter at hand. ¡°They¡¯re all werewolves,¡± he said. ¡°Castillo is making sure the bodies are going to his morgue, it¡¯s all very hush hush.¡± ¡°Castillo?¡± I asked, tensing slightly as I leaned towards him. ¡°So he¡¯s involved?¡± ¡°Insomuch that he is collecting the dead, yes,¡± Henry said. ¡°Whether he is directly involved with whoever is responsible, I haven¡¯t been able to tell. He¡¯s not the sort you can stroll up to and ask you know.¡± ¡°I know,¡± I said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect you to try.¡± I lean back in my seat, listening to the cheery pop song playing that now sounds like it¡¯s mocking the serious situation. ¡°Okay¡­so we have five deaths so far, at least that¡¯s what Cerberus accounts for.¡± The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Six,¡± Henry interjected. ¡°There was another one late last night. I saw Brianna taking the corpse away.¡± ¡°Castillo¡¯s second?¡± I asked. Castillo¡¯s pack was so large and the turnover seemed to be high. I had to be sure I was remembering everyone correctly. Henry nodded in confirmation. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯d go killing their own. It¡¯s not like them. Castillo might be a merciless bastard, but he¡¯s never targeted wolves like this. The only time I heard that he did was when that kid tried to challenge him to become Alpha.¡± ¡°Which is part of their¡­culture for lack of a better word,¡± Henry pointed out. In other words, the type of incident that Cerberus wasn¡¯t meant to get involved in. ¡°There¡¯s another thing¡­the bodies, they¡¯re all drained of blood. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s meant to try and put the blame on vampires ¨C although I can tell you no vampire did this.¡± ¡°Drained of blood,¡± I mused. ¡°Was it collected or left around the body?¡± ¡°Collected.¡± ¡°So, we have vampires¡­potentially. Your lot is crafty that way, deceptive. Not you!¡± I exclaim at his sudden indignant expression. ¡°Or someone else who could use blood. Like an enchanter, witch or warlock. Not a great alternative.¡± ¡°What would they use it for?¡± Henry asked. I winced internally and shook my head. Before, I couldn¡¯t share things with him because he was one of the mundane, a regular person who didn¡¯t need to be thrust into the real world. Now that he was a vampire, he was to be excluded because he was deemed a threat. Cerberus wouldn¡¯t act against him unless he gave them reason to, but he was not to know the inner workings of the Order, as anything that could be ¡®handed off to another¡¯ would put the Order at risk. I knew that he would never, but I also knew if I divulged certain information, it would be just the excuse my fellow Centurions would use to target Henry. No one was very happy with my ongoing friendship with him. Except Billy, but he was a renegade himself. ¡°Right,¡± he said and to his credit he didn¡¯t sound bitter. I would¡¯ve, but then he always was way more level headed than me. ¡°Those with magic smell a certain way, if I catch that sort of scent I¡¯ll let you know.¡± ¡°Be careful,¡± I warned him. ¡°I don¡¯t want you engaging them, so many jump to learning fire spells and well¡­you¡¯re especially vulnerable to that.¡± ¡°Thank you for the reminder,¡± Henry replied. ¡°You¡¯re friendly with Brianna aren¡¯t you?¡± I asked. ¡°Friendly is probably overstating it,¡± Henry replied. ¡°Turn on your charm then, Mr. Stone, and see if it will be enough to let you see the bodies. I¡¯d have so much more to go on if I could see one, even in pictures.¡± ¡°Wha¡­my charm?¡± I sighed, rubbing my forehead. Still the innocent sort, even after everything. ¡°Yes. Your charm. Or, tell her the truth, that you want to stop these murders too because it puts everyone at risk.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, Riley¡­¡± ¡°Hey, it¡¯s all on a volunteer basis,¡± I said. ¡°Do what you want.¡± Tension fell over us, everything around us bright and colorful while a storm cloud came over Henry¡¯s dark eyes. I suppose I shouldn¡¯t have expected anything else, after getting snippy with my last comment. Some things never changed. ¡°Sorry,¡± I finally managed to get out. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Henry replied and from him, I believed it. ¡°So, I¡¯m going to start listening in with our enchanters and enchantresses. They¡¯re usually well tuned to magic, they may have a good lead now that I know one might be involved. Remember, if you continue¡­be careful. We don¡¯t know who the killer is or what they¡¯re after, and getting involved in Castillo¡¯s syndicate in any way is probably worse than running into said killer.¡± ¡°It¡¯s wonderful to have such good options,¡± Henry replied. I laughed, because if there was one thing that was consistent between us it was never having good options. ¡°Cheers,¡± I said, lifting my weird tasting coffee that I couldn¡¯t wait to wash away with my own, cheap brand when I got home. ¡°Get some sleep,¡± he suggested, as if he read my mind. Maybe he did. I wasn¡¯t sure what sort of abilities he had since his turn, he didn¡¯t like to talk about it. ¡°Maybe when the criminal has been apprehended. Or killed.¡± ¡°You should be careful too then,¡± Henry said. ¡°If you won¡¯t take care of yourself otherwise.¡± ¡°Hm,¡± was my noncommittal response before wrinkling my nose after another sip of coffee. ¡°God, I wish you could taste this. It is fucking awful.¡± ¡°Suddenly I¡¯m glad I¡¯m incapable of such things,¡± Henry replied. Chapter II: The First Break I emerge with a swell of people from the bowels of the T at Fields Corner. It¡¯s a 15 minute walk back to my house, which was purchased by the Order of Cerberus. Centurions may not have a long life expectancy, but at least we never had to worry about rent. Fair trade, really. Boston is not a cheap place to live, but there¡¯s nowhere I¡¯d rather be. I followed the usual route down Lincoln Street, passing familiar shops and offices, the air full of the sound of cars and the smell of exhaust and various foods. My stomach is still trying to process that coffee, and I decide to make it better (or worse?) by stopping in at Saigon¡¯s Seafood restaurant and ordering an embarrassing amount of crab rangoon. The food is excellent, but the cream cheese isn¡¯t going to help. Neither is the beer, but if I¡¯m going to be dealing with a serial killer with a clear hatred for werewolves then I might as well sneak a few cheat meals into my days. Once I consumed the equivalent of ¡®what are you doing with your life¡¯ rangoons, I left the restaurant and walked the rest of the way to my home. The houses on Everdean Street are tall but narrow. Mine is three storeys, if you can count the top floor as a full floor. It¡¯s more of a loft where my bed and dresser reside to keep them out of the way. It also has an unfinished basement that I¡¯m sure my neighbors would raise their eyebrows at if they ever went down there. It looks like a sex dungeon, with chains and everything, but it¡¯s all for my job rather than kink fulfillment. Okay, it¡¯s mostly just for my job. I walk up the brick steps and unlock the front door, giving a brief wave and smile to my next-door neighbor Maceo as he tends his potted plants out front. He looks like he wants to say something, but I step inside and shut the door before he can. He¡¯s not a bad guy, I¡¯m just too invested in being a reclusive hermit while off duty that I don¡¯t give anyone a real chance to make an impression. Breathing a sigh of relief at the relative quiet, I kick off my shoes in the foyer and head into the living room as I muse over everything Henry told me earlier. A werewolf killer. It stood to reason the murderer had issues with Alejandro Castillo, which isn¡¯t much of a surprise. The crime boss has a reputation for brutality and a rigid structure to his syndicate that must leave a lot of resentment in those affected by it negatively. Of course, directly targeting his pack was a dangerous choice. They were extremely well organized, so much so that even though the Order knew they put the general population of Boston at risk, we never moved against them openly. It would be war, and we¡¯d lose too many to say it would be worth it. But when the werewolf death toll became high enough¡­I knew we could expect Castillo to do something drastic in response, and that response might put everything at risk. I could feel a headache brewing between my temples. With a sigh, I unbutton my shirt and toss it carelessly to the sofa. Giving a cursory look to the windows to ensure the blinds are down, I then proceed to do my usual twisting dance to get my binder off. I really need to order the next size up, but I¡¯m determined my increased exercise will decrease my chest enough that I¡¯ll fit into it properly eventually. Hopefully. In the meantime, I¡¯ll continue clawing at my back since a fair amount rolled up and got stuck under my armpits again. ¡°Do you need help, kid?¡± ¡°FUCK!¡± My heart is racing somewhere up in my throat as I wheel around to see Billy leaning against the frame of the cased opening to the living room. He must have rounded the corner from the kitchen when he heard me come in. He looks bemused at my plight and I feel my face flush as I stand there, hunched over, my elbows bent sharply and my torso all but completely bare. A quick assessment shows I haven¡¯t revealed¡­anything important, but I¡¯m still fuming. As if it makes it at all better, Billy raised his hands to cover his eyes after the fact, but he¡¯s not bothering to hide his mirth. With an angry yank, I get the fabric off and storm over to the sofa to snatch my shirt up, pulling it back into place and buttoning it with gusto. It¡¯s uneven and looks like I attempted to dress while drunk, but whatever. ¡°How did you get in here?¡± I demanded. ¡°Your back slider was unlocked,¡± Billy replied. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure it wasn¡¯t! Besides, the patio gate definitely was.¡± ¡°Semantics,¡± he said dismissively. ¡°That¡¯s not even how that comeback works,¡± I pointed out irately. If it wasn¡¯t for the fact that Billy was¡­well, Billy, then I would have hit him before kicking him out. As it stands, I¡¯m just flustered that he saw me struggling. It¡¯s not something I like to put on display. He senses my discomfort and irritation, because the amusement drains from his features to something more solemn. ¡°Sorry,¡± he says. It¡¯s too bad I¡¯m not Henry, because I just flip him off instead of accepting it, but I do sit down on the sofa rather than chasing him out of my house. ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to be here,¡± I reminded him. ¡°I know, but I thought you should know there¡¯s been another death. That¡¯s six now.¡± ¡°I already know that,¡± I said with some level of petty triumph. ¡°Henry told me.¡± ¡°You have Henry working on this?¡± ¡°He¡¯s looking into it on his own and we compare notes.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Billy snorts, which tells me exactly what he thinks about my feeble deception. Why I bother lying to a Sentinel, I¡¯m not sure. The Order¡¯s seers have an uncanny ability to pick up on lies the moment they¡¯re said. ¡°Did you know that Sheldon saw the most recent death in his last vision?¡± My eyes widen a fraction. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Mm. Yes, our esteemed Senior Sentinel witnessed a werewolf being taken down by a vampire.¡± ¡°Henry said it wasn¡¯t the vampires.¡± ¡°What does Henry really know about the covens though?¡± I wished Billy didn¡¯t have such a good point, but considering Henry still lived mostly as a human there was a chance that the coven vampires wouldn¡¯t divulge anything to him. ¡°Why would any of the covens mess with Castillo¡¯s pack?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re trying to figure out,¡± Billy sighed. ¡°They¡¯ve had that Treatise for years, it¡¯s more beneficial to both sides that they don¡¯t step on each other¡¯s toes. Or, rip each other''s throats out.¡± ¡°Maybe the vampire isn¡¯t part of any of the covens,¡± I ventured. ¡°Some newcomer to the city wrecking havoc?¡± Billy asked. ¡°Great.¡± ¡°Right? But¡­can¡¯t we arrange a meeting with Castillo? Find out if he pissed off a vampire lately?¡± ¡°He¡¯d probably assume we¡¯d arrest him again.¡± ¡°Neutral ground?¡± ¡°Good luck getting him to agree to anything that isn¡¯t his own territory.¡± ¡°Or we could increase patrols and hope we stumble across the killer before they find more werewolves to slaughter,¡± I groused. ¡°Maybe you Sentinels could use your bones and star charts to zero in on them before we see chaos overwhelm the whole city.¡± ¡°I do have a prominent baculum that tends to point in the right direction,¡± Billy mused, ignoring my grumpy sarcasm. ¡°Although it doesn¡¯t compare to Whiteworm.¡± I frown at him, but I know better than to chastise him about his addictions by now. It won¡¯t do anything but cause contention, and I¡¯ve enough to worry about without adding a fight with Billy to the list. He¡¯s my favorite Sentinel to work with, not only for his laid back demeanor, but for the fact he¡¯s one of the few in the Order I can talk to about things beyond the mission. I know it causes rumors, I¡¯ve heard other Centurions whispering about it, and I should care because if we¡¯re deemed to be violating the rules the consequences aren¡¯t anything to scoff at. But I can¡¯t release this bit of selfishness. I sprawled out across the sofa, feet hanging over the arm rest as I looked up at the water stain on the ceiling. ¡°I should go to the office.¡± ¡°Why? Just to be there instead of here?¡± Billy asked. ¡°We can¡¯t do a whole lot more than what we¡¯re doing already, kid. So you should rest up while you can.¡± ¡°I hate waiting around,¡± I sighed, rubbing my abdomen when a low, rumbling whine sounded. Hello, cream cheese. ¡°If the killer is a vampire and if they are going to kill again, then we should have more patrols tonight.¡± ¡°We do have more patrols tonight,¡± Billy pointed out. ¡°You¡¯re just not on the roster until tomorrow.¡± If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. ¡°Well I should be on tonight.¡± ¡°Uh, take it up with Carver then.¡± ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m still on her shit list.¡± ¡°Probably from breaking so many rules. Which, oh yeah, may be the reason you¡¯re on the day shift now.¡± I shrug, but he has a point. Sometimes Cerberus moves too slowly for my liking. Most of the time my impulses pay off, a lot of times they just get me into trouble with the boss, and Betty Carver is not a woman anyone should wish as an enemy. I think I¡¯m still firmly in the annoyance list rather than the adversarial one, but I¡¯m on thin ice after the incident with the gnomes. ¡°Fine,¡± I relented. ¡°I¡¯ll stay in and watch Netflix while hoping a war between vampires and werewolves doesn¡¯t break out in the middle of a binge.¡± ¡°The city will survive without you prowling her streets,¡± Billy replied. ¡°So, try to relax, Mr. Averline, and I¡¯ll call you if there¡¯s anything worth an update.¡± ¡°One wonders why you couldn¡¯t just call me about the murder I already knew about,¡± I said. By now, my frustration with him is gone and I¡¯m able to make it clear that I¡¯m only teasing. ¡°I was out of food,¡± Billy replied, and I knew he was not only teasing. ¡°Wonderful. I¡¯ll just go ahead and restock my entire kitchen in the meantime then, thanks.¡± Billy tipped an invisible hat to me and bid me a good night before heading out the front door. I got up to lock it behind him, taking the protective pendant from my neck and hanging it over the doorknob instead to keep him from waltzing in again. When that¡¯s done, I move through the darkened hall and into the kitchen, where I see the remnants of Billy¡¯s feast spread out over the counters. Why I put up with his shit¡­I¡¯ll never know. I sigh and set a ward at the back door for good measure, almost hoping he¡¯ll break in again so he can deal with the pus-filled sores that will afflict him if he does. I may not be able to do magic, but it does pay to work with a bunch of people who can. I spend the evening tidying up, which may have been Billy¡¯s intention all along so I wouldn¡¯t rush out to find the killer. I still can¡¯t help but to think there¡¯s more to it than a rogue vampire. That¡¯s too simple. It feels like something more. ?????¡ã???¡ã????? I woke early the next morning, about an hour before my alarm was set thanks to someone¡¯s car alarm going off down the street. I spend too much time thinking about how I don¡¯t want to get up to the point that it''s much harder than it should be to swing my legs over the bed and stand up. With a yawn, I brush my fingers through my short hair, seeing a couple dark strands make themselves comfortable against my white pillowcase. Bad choice, that white. After staggering into the shower and a half assed breakfast that mostly consisted of coffee, my glorious, cheap coffee, I got dressed and headed out the door to return to the subway station. I go the usual route, with my earbuds firmly in place and music I actually like muffling the sound of station announcements and advertisements blaring through the train. I grip the support rail more tightly as the train stops, then lurches forward again, crowded with a bunch of people who are all trying to make themselves as small as possible. I look out the dark window, to see all the flashing ads painted onto the walls of the subway because why give someone a break even for a second? I change lines as necessary until I step into a gloomy morning on Beacon Street. It looks like it¡¯s going to rain. I pass the Athenaeum with the same thought I do every time I go this way from the station, that I really ought to stop by after work and browse. I know I¡¯ll forget by the end of my shift, or I¡¯ll be too tired to want to go anywhere but home. Although these days I don¡¯t have as many cases as I¡¯d like, so maybe I¡¯ll have a chance after all¡­ Not right now, however. I walk past it and turn the corner and resist going into the local Irish coffee shop to enter the building next door. It¡¯s an office building, angular and sharp. The Order owns it, although they do rent out a couple of the lower level offices to mundane businesses. It¡¯s about staying grounded, the higher ups will explain when asked, but I think it¡¯s about the cost of living. It doesn¡¯t matter, we almost never see those normal people, and they¡¯re in such competitive fields they don¡¯t stop to chat when we do. I take the elevator to the seventh floor, which opens to the reception area of the mid-level Centurion office suite. ¡°Good morning, Mr. Averline!¡± June says brightly. ¡°Morning, Ms Apricot.¡± ¡°You have a Mr Stone waiting for you on line 1.¡± ¡°What?¡± Henry knows better than to call me at work, and to expect me in right on time. ¡°I mean, thanks.¡± Fortunately, June is new and isn¡¯t aware of the fact that Henry is a vampire. Or my ex-husband. It means I won¡¯t have to answer awkward questions for a change. I hurry to the last office that I share with Chiaki, but right now Calvin, who works the night shift, is still here, just packing up to go home. He looks rough. ¡°Long night?¡± I ask. ¡°You¡¯ll find out at this morning¡¯s brief,¡± Calvin replies. ¡°I¡¯m outta here.¡± Without so much as another word, he grabs his bag and strides out of the office. Interesting. I take a seat at my desk and grab the landline, connecting the call. ¡°I¡¯m assuming this is important if you¡¯re calling me. Here.¡± ¡°You said you wanted a look at one of the bodies,¡± Henry said. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, Henry, not over the phone!¡± I hissed. ¡°Can you get to Copps Hill?¡± ¡°In a bit, yeah.¡± ¡°Make it quick would you?¡± I stop fretting over someone listening in when I hear the slight tremor to his voice. ¡°Are you okay?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± too long of a pause. ¡°It¡¯s supposed to be sunny by 11 and I don¡¯t have my hat.¡± ¡°Alright¡­I¡¯ll be there as soon as possible.¡± Time goes by agonizingly slowly. I can¡¯t leave until after the morning¡¯s brief, and I spend the morning trying to be productive but end up just looking busy instead. I can¡¯t focus, I need to know what¡¯s going on with Henry and I can¡¯t help feeling it has something to do with Calvin¡¯s haggard departure. Something big went down last night, and I hate not knowing what. Nine o¡¯clock finally rolls around and I¡¯m the first person in the conference room, waiting for leadership to arrive so I can learn the ¡°what¡± which has been driving me mad all morning. My leg jitters despite my efforts to keep it still and as my fellow Centurions come in and greet me, I respond with tight smiles and curt ¡®hellos¡¯. Chief Glass comes in, followed by Sentinel Sheldon, who rarely joins us unless he absolutely has to, who is followed by two enchanters; Elena and Ulysses. ¡°You all know we¡¯ve been tracking the werewolf killings,¡± Chief Glass begins, never one to waste time with idle chatter. ¡°Mr. Sheldon witnessed one of the murders in a vision last night, the culprit was a vampire. Signs have been indicating such, but it was not confirmed until now. The three major covens in Boston claim they have nothing to do with the spreading violence, and insist they have not felt a new vampire enter the region.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s not a vampire then,¡± I blurt out. I didn¡¯t mean to, but I felt like Sheldon was supposed to pick up the thread where Glass left off and was waiting for dramatic effect. The Senior Sentinel looked at me then, his icy blue eyes narrowed. His willowy frame and angular face framed with curly brown hair didn¡¯t look intimidating at first glance, but when he wanted to be, Joseph Sheldon was terrifying. Like there was a promise of horrific torment behind his cold eyes if you annoyed him enough. ¡°There are means for vampires to disguise themselves, even from their own kind,¡± Elena chimed in. ¡°Whether through magic, if they were to buy an enchantment or a powerful glamor charm, or if they had help getting into the city.¡± ¡°A Centurion patrol went to the Moliere Coven to ask if they knew anything about a vampire using such methods to get in,¡± Chief Glass sighed. ¡°Unfortunately, some of Castillo¡¯s younger wolves are becoming impatient. There was a pair nearby who heard the Centurions questioning a vampire and took it upon themselves to claim the coven was behind the murders and attacked them.¡± ¡°One werewolf was killed in the incident, the other escaped, one of ours was bitten and now the Moliere Coven is in an uproar about us ¡®dragging violence to their doorstep¡¯,¡± Sheldon continued. ¡°Our best hope is that the coven closes its doors until this is resolved,¡± Ulysses said. He was tugging at the end of his impressive beard, a sure sign he was not confident in that assessment. ¡°Regardless, I think it goes without saying that we need to work harder. The longer this is drawn out, the more blood will be spread.¡± ¡°Or drained,¡± someone muttered. ¡°Can we expect Castillo to retaliate against us?¡± Centurion Chiaki asked. ¡°It¡¯s a possibility we cannot ignore,¡± Sheldon replied. ¡°However, given that the wolves instigated this attack, Castillo¡¯s hands may be bound in how he can respond.¡± ¡°But right now, we¡¯re telling you how we¡¯re going to respond,¡± Glass said. ¡°Day shift may be called the slow shift, but there¡¯s plenty that needs to be done. We¡¯re dividing you up, some of you are going to be working with the techies on the third floor to intercept communications, the second group is going to keep an eye on the covens. Don¡¯t be careless with that, the vampires may be shut away but their thralls will be watching. The last group will be keeping an eye on Castillo¡¯s strike force, make sure they aren¡¯t planning a city sweep to be done with all of this.¡± ¡°Office one is with Tech,¡± Sheldon said. ¡°Two and Three are on the vampires, Four and Five the werewolves. You¡¯ll be joined by Senior Centurions and Sentinels, we don¡¯t want anyone playing the hero.¡± Werewolf duty. I could live with that, although right now all I want to do is find a specific vampire. I really hope Henry isn¡¯t in some kind of trouble. I look at the clock surreptitiously, it¡¯s been almost 45 minutes since I sat down in the conference room. We¡¯re dismissed after another fifteen minutes, all of us are expected to grab our gear and head to our destinations. I¡¯m feeling the stress already. Copp''s Hill isn¡¯t in the direction I need to go. Maybe I can slip away. Chiaki is sort of by the letter, but I think she¡¯d let me go with a good enough excuse. I¡¯m still mulling over possibilities in my head as I leave the conference room, slowing in surprise when I see Billy, wearing his typical Hawaiian shirt with jeans, sandals and, ugh, athletic socks. ¡°I thought you were on nights,¡± I say when I reach him. ¡°I switched so I could help you out. I¡¯m the Sentinel going with you and Chi.¡± ¡°Okay, great. I need to ask a favor.¡± ¡°We haven¡¯t even made it three feet, kid¡­¡± I let the group of Centurions from the meeting pass, make sure that Chief, Sheldon and the enchanters aren¡¯t nearby and lower my voice. ¡°I have to meet Henry. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s okay, he said he may have a body for me. One of the werewolves.¡± ¡°It would help to examine one,¡± Billy said. ¡°Mhm. But he¡¯s at Copp''s Hill Burying Ground. Castillo¡¯s strike force hangs out in Southie.¡± ¡°A dilemma, most certainly.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to head to the lockers, but then I need you to¡­I don¡¯t know, keep Chiaki distracted and I¡¯ll meet you guys over there after I check on Henry.¡± ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll risk my job for you. Why not?¡± ¡°Probably the same reason I didn¡¯t report you for breaking and entering last night.¡± ¡°Touch¨¦.¡± I leave him to get back on the elevator with some of the others, heading to the basement where our weapons lockers are located. I grab the necessary supplies, in my case, I go for silver in case things go south in Southie. I shrug on protective gear too, it''s top-of-the-line, thin but durable and you¡¯d never know I was wearing it under my shirt. It wouldn¡¯t stop a fully transformed werewolf from biting through it if they really went at it, but I don¡¯t have to worry about that while the sun is up instead of the moon. We leave the building in small groups from different exits, so we don¡¯t draw suspicion. I should be heading back to Park Street Station, but I head north instead. I¡¯m antsy and my pulse is beating faster than it should. I¡¯m starting to feel cold sweat on my back and my throat is dry as the train makes its way towards my destination. Chapter III: Flesh & Bone I forgot that Copp¡¯s Hill Burying Ground is the last stop on the Freedom Trail tour that runs through Boston, and that the tours are in business again. As such, there¡¯s staff dressed in complete Colonial costumes with clustered groups of visitors surrounding them with phones out, recording or snapping the next viral Instagram selfie. I try not to let their presence bother me, but it¡¯s like the Pop music from the coffee shop¡­a seeming insult to my nerves as I look around for Henry. I don¡¯t see him, which I take as a mild relief since the clouds are breaking and sunshine is peeking through the gloom. I pass an enthusiastic tour guide pointing out the graves of Increase and Cotton Mather, which lets her launch into what¡¯s sure to be an impressive monologue about the Salem Witch Trials. I always wonder how the Order of Cerberus handled that farce, or if they got involved at all. I¡¯ll have to ask Billy when I meet up with him later. I sigh and gruffly tell my mind to stop spinning and focus, it¡¯s not like I expect to find Henry murdered here, I don¡¯t need to keep distracting myself. ¡­I hasten my footsteps anyway. When I get to the side of the cemetery that runs adjacent to Snow Hill Street, I hear a whistle. Glancing over my shoulder, I see a young Black woman standing at a gate that leads out of the burial ground and to the street. She looks innocuous, her tightly braided hair piled in a bun atop her head, vibrant makeup, a yellow crop top peeking out from the zip-up hoodie with bright designs splashed all over it, faded jeans and yellow high top sneakers that match her top. Casual as she looks, my protective pendant vibrates. Werewolf. ¡°You got my attention,¡± I say, prompting her to get on with it. She smiles and nods towards one of the multifamily, brick homes that line Snow Hill. I really hate the cryptic bullshit that comes with this job, clandestine meetings and needs for privacy that keep apprehension high. I¡¯m glad I stopped by to grab weapons from the armory before leaving HQ, because I can¡¯t say for sure that this isn¡¯t some type of trap. She leads me inside to a 1 bedroom, 1 bath lot that, despite its size, probably costs more than my entire house. It¡¯s not furnished, which tells me this isn¡¯t her place¡­which is for the best, as the medical table and corpse in the center of the living room is an off putting choice for d¨¦cor. ¡°Where¡¯s Henry?¡± I ask. ¡°He¡¯s safe,¡± the woman replies. ¡°You were just outside, you saw how dangerous it¡¯d be for a vampire out there. He went to rest. I¡¯m Brianna, by the way.¡± I¡¯m not completely assured about Henry¡¯s situation, but I pretend to be for the moment. ¡°Riley,¡± I respond. Neither of us hold out a hand to shake the other¡¯s. ¡°So, this is one of yours I take it?¡± I ask, gesturing to the body. ¡°Yes,¡± Brianna replies, walking over to the corpse. There¡¯s sadness in the slouch of her shoulders as she stands at the head of the young man, but she catches herself and straightens, looking neutral as I join her. ¡°Do you think vampires are behind this?¡± I ask, looking at the body. There¡¯s puncture wounds in the neck...and also in the wrists and one against the inner thigh, close enough to his genitals to surmise how this alleged vampire got the wolf to drop his guard. His skin is pale, too pale even for the dead, his body entirely exsanguinated. ¡°No,¡± Brianna says. I look at her, waiting for her to expand on that answer. ¡°It was made to look that way, obviously,¡± she continues. ¡°But the autopsy made me think twice about the obvious. Here,¡± she shrugs out of her hoodie and extracts a pair of medical gloves from a box on the windowsill. With zero hesitation, Brianna hooks her fingers under one of the cuts made during the autopsy and lifts the rib cage before peeling back skin and muscle from the bone as one might peel the flesh off a fruit. The bones of a werewolf are different from that of a human, the joints calcify and harden more with every transformation, which breaks bones in the same place every single month. The victim¡¯s ribs look like a cause of concern at first glance for the simple fact that they look like they¡¯ve been broken thirty times or more, but I know that¡¯s not what I¡¯m looking at. This, for werewolves, is normal. The strange text carved into the ribs is not. ¡°What the hell is this?¡± I ask, leaning in somewhat. I think the letters are too small to make out, but on closer inspection I realize they¡¯re not letters I recognize. ¡°Good question,¡± Brianna sighs. ¡°But for now? The main reason I don¡¯t think a vampire did it. Why would they go through all the trouble?¡± ¡°Can you hold that up for a bit?¡± I ask as I take out my phone, intent to take pictures. Brianna looks like she wants to protest for a second, the reputation of the Order preceding me, maybe, or because she thinks it¡¯s disrespectful to the deceased. It¡¯s only a brief moment¡¯s hesitation before she nods, somewhat stiffly, and averts her gaze. I loom over the body as closely as I can, taking careful pictures of the bones and the text written into them. There¡¯s more of it carved into the flesh and I reluctantly ask Brianna to roll it back some more so I can get pictures of that too. ¡°That should be enough,¡± I say, slipping my phone back into my pocket as Brianna gently sets the rib cage back in place. ¡°Do you recognize the language at all?¡± ¡°No,¡± Brianna replies. ¡°Damn. Well, maybe one of ours will.¡± Brianna bristles and her eyes become hard as she glares at me. ¡°I let you in here because Henry vouched for you, not your entire Order.¡± ¡°Do you want this solved or not?¡± I counter. ¡°I don¡¯t want Cerberus using this as another fucking excuse to impose their laws on us,¡± Brianna snaps. ¡°The ones that discourage murder? Or the ones that discourage inviting the whole world to hunt your lot with torches and pitchforks? Sorry, more like automatic weapons these days.¡± We stand there on opposite sides of an autopsy table, seething and glaring at one another for what feels like an inappropriate amount of time, but is really only a second or two. I back off, because I didn¡¯t come here to fight her and I¡¯m still thinking about Henry. I don¡¯t want to jeopardize his connections by being confrontational. ¡°Is there any chance that Castillo will work with us on this? Before things get out of hand?¡± ¡°Things are already out of hand,¡± Brianna points out, still sounding irate. ¡°I know about last night. Guess we¡¯re not losing enough wolves as it is, so yes, the Order should shoot first and attempt to contain the situation after.¡± ¡°One of our Centurions was bitten,¡± I argue. ¡°Yah, the one who shot ours,¡± Brianna snaps. ¡°After they both attacked a vampire!¡± ¡°They¡¯re scared!¡± ¡°So the Centurions should have just¡­what, stood aside while the werewolves unleashed their violent fear all over a vampire¡¯s face?¡± ¡°They shouldn¡¯t have escalated the situation!¡± ¡°What would you have had them do?¡± ¡°They could have at least gone for a nonfatal shot, fuck, why do I gotta spell this out for you?¡± ¡°Because neither of us were there and speculation is useless!¡± We¡¯re back to glaring at each other, only this time she¡¯s tense, poised as if she¡¯s going to attack me. I really don¡¯t want to have to shoot her, I feel like that will prove her point. Besides, she¡¯s not wrong for being upset about all of this, I just don¡¯t want her to keep dishing it out on me. I take a deep breath that does nothing to calm me down. ¡°The language could be an incantation,¡± I say after a beat. ¡°Does Castillo have any enemies who specialize in magic? Witch, warlock, enchanter? Fae?¡± Brianna purses her lips into a thin line, eyes narrowing at me. I half expect her to just kick me out and be done with this, but fortunately her desire to find the killer is bigger than her growing dislike for me. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she says. ¡°Mr. Castillo hasn¡¯t mentioned anyone like that¡­but then, Mr. Castillo doesn¡¯t share a lot of personal shit with us, no matter what rank we got.¡± ¡°Will you please try to find out?¡± I ask. ¡°There are some of us in the Order who don¡¯t care about the one-upmanship bullshit. We just want to solve this because people are dying, not in the hopes we can bring down the hammer. I can work with those members, so you don¡¯t have to worry about the political side of things. Just the stopping the murderer side.¡± Brianna looks anything but convinced, but at least she doesn¡¯t call me a liar. I can limit who I tell in the Order, there are a fair number of Senior members, in all fields, who clamor for more control over the city. All for the good of the mundane citizens, they say. I think they¡¯re just on a power trip, and that we¡¯re all fortunate that Carver doesn¡¯t ever give in to their radical ideas. ¡°I¡¯ll try to find out,¡± she says. ¡°Thank you,¡± I reply. ¡°I, uh¡­can update you if I get a translation, if you want.¡± She smirks, but there¡¯s still hostility to it. ¡°You have a strange way to ask for a girl¡¯s number.¡± ¡°I like to make the worst impression possible, that way there¡¯s plenty of room for me to grow.¡± ¡°Dumbass,¡± she snorts, at least her scorn is touched with genuine amusement. She tugs off the medical gloves that she¡¯s been too angry to even notice were still on up to this point, and goes to the kitchen to wash her hands. I¡¯m still standing there wondering if that was a yes or if she¡¯s giving me the silent signal to get the hell out of here. ¡°Hand over the phone,¡± she says when she returns to the living room, hand outstretched. I drop my mobile into her palm and she taps in her information. ¡°Do not call me for anything but this case.¡± ¡°You¡¯re in luck, I don¡¯t like calling people in general, so you won¡¯t get my latest take on Reality TV or anything.¡± ¡°Good. Now get out.¡± I step outside to sunshine and traffic. Since my phone is still in hand, I call Henry but I¡¯m not surprised when he doesn¡¯t answer. That doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t worry, however, and I won¡¯t feel better about it until I get in touch with him. I can¡¯t run around Boston looking for him though, so all that I can do at this point is hurry to Southie. ?????¡ã???¡ã????? It takes me about an hour to get to the City Point neighborhood in South Boston. I¡¯m still thinking about the letters carved into flesh and bone, what the significance is and why they were there in the first place. It¡¯s something that feels more like an answer, I just don¡¯t have the right question yet. I can smell the ocean here, the briny scent preceding the more pungent odor of low tide is carried with the cold breeze coming in from the bay. There¡¯s also the sound of seagulls that pepper the city noise; car horns, cawing, the shuffle of everyday life. Southie gets a bad rap in all the movies, but I¡¯ve never experienced scowling Irish mobsters waiting to unleash a flurry of headshots on any who dare walk its streets. Maybe I don¡¯t worry about it because I know there¡¯s a lot more dangerous things in the world. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Actually, it¡¯s the dark van parked on 8th Street that looks like it was plucked from a Crime drama. I can¡¯t decide if it¡¯s better there¡¯s nothing printed on the sides of it, or if they should have gone all out and advertised flowers. I text Billy as I approach the vehicle, and the back door opens before I reach it and I step in without bothering to see if anyone notices. The more straightforward you move in the city, the better chance no one will really pay attention. Besides, the only people I care about seeing me are the werewolves and all looks quiet in the condo across the street. ¡°Anything?¡± I ask before Chiaki can ask where I¡¯ve been. ¡°Nothing so far,¡± she replies, although I can tell she¡¯s just saving those questions for later. ¡°Spending the day in a van is exactly what I hoped for when I woke up this morning,¡± I sigh. There¡¯s high end equipment, both mundane and enchanted. All the better to see you with, dear, I think as I inspect the binoculars charmed to see through walls. There¡¯s also a few variants of long-range microphones for audio. ¡°Listening to a bunch of wolves is the cherry on top of that wish though.¡± ¡°Better wolves than snoring vampires,¡± Billy said. ¡°Did you have enough coffee, kid? Your grumpy sass levels are pretty high.¡± ¡°Fuck off, Billy.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a no.¡± ¡°Could you both focus, please?¡± Chiaki asks, frowning at us as she adjusts the oversized headphones around her ears. ¡°We¡¯ll let you listen in peace, I need to talk to you privately anyway, Billy,¡± I reply, gesturing for him to step out of the van. Chiaki looks more annoyed at this, and I suppose she must think I¡¯m slacking off between getting here late and immediately abandoning the job at hand. I do hate the surveillance side of things, it makes me antsy, but this time I¡¯m not only dodging it. I want to see if Billy knows anything about the writing on the werewolf bones. So we shut Chiaki in the van, leaning against the side of the vehicle not facing the werewolf condo. Billy pulls out a cigarette, then offers me the pack. I slip one out even though I tried to convince myself I quit a month ago. ¡°Any luck?¡± Billy asks after we both take a couple puffs. ¡°I¡¯d say,¡± I take my phone out and show him the photos. ¡°You recognize that language?¡± ¡°Ooof, you know language isn¡¯t my strong suit, kid.¡± ¡°Fair enough, what do you make of this as a whole then?¡± Billy takes time to flip through the pictures and really look at them. His cigarette dangles from weathered lips, curly hair accentuated with white caught in the breeze while his pale eyes dart about the screen as they take in every detail available. He scrunches his face somewhat, making some of the lines stand out more against his ruddy complexion and hands the mobile back to me. ¡°The vampires are being set up,¡± he sighs. ¡°You think it has something to do with magic too?¡± ¡°Oh yeah. A spell, or ritual, something¡­¡± ¡°I just wish I knew what it fucking said,¡± I hear the exasperation tighten my voice. There¡¯s millions of spells out there, some that we have no idea about, a lot that have been lost to history, more being created by clever enchanters everyday. It¡¯s impossible to keep track of them all, more so to know what every single one of them entails and does. If we did know, however, it would narrow down our search parameters to something manageable. The van door opens and I jam my phone back into my pocket. Chiaki joins us, and crosses her arms as she looks at us. I¡¯m reminded of my mother suddenly, waiting for us to confess our crimes, although my brothers and I never did. I say nothing now either, I only raise a brow and wait for her to break and tell us why she came out here. ¡°I can hear you,¡± she says. ¡°What¡¯s all this about a spell?¡± I feel like an idiot, thinking that stepping outside a van outfitted with equipment specifically for audio is enough of a cover. I know I should share it with Chiaki, she¡¯s a good one even if she¡¯s lacking humor. But I did tell Brianna I wasn¡¯t going to let the whole Order in on it, and it may complicate things. Chiaki knows about my lingering relationship with Henry, she doesn¡¯t approve of it, and I¡¯m sure she won¡¯t approve of my dealings with Brianna. I hate that there¡¯s more to my hesitation than that though. I hate that I¡¯m desperate enough to get back on the Night Shift, where I can make a real difference, that I want to solve this with as little help as possible. I¡¯m better than Day Shift, I know that, I just need Carver to get with the program. Ultimately, I can¡¯t put that above the very real threat to the werewolves in Boston, and thus the people of Boston too when Castillo decides he¡¯s had enough. I tell her about my clandestine meeting with Brianna, courtesy of Henry. Her small mouth purses and her eyes narrow, but if she¡¯s planning on yelling at me about it she must be saving that for later too. Chiaki is going to have enough material to chastise me for hours at this point. And she will too. I¡¯m dreading it already. ¡°Let me see,¡± she says coldly, waiting for the phone. I give it to her and she, like Billy, studies the photos for a while without saying anything. She cants her head, and I realize there¡¯s a dawning recognition in her gaze that fills me with hope. ¡°Do you know what it says?¡± I ask eagerly. ¡°No,¡± she replies and my hope deflates like a balloon that had its air let out. ¡°It¡¯s not a known language, but it is¡­based on one. I studied linguistics before I joined the Order, dead languages, specifically. This looks like ancient Sumerian. With Coptic influences.¡± ¡°But it¡­isn¡¯t either of those?¡± I ask. ¡°Not exactly,¡± Chiaki confirms. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s some asshole making up a language to throw us off. Shit, a dear diary situation, but with no codex hidden under a pillow.¡± ¡°Speaking from experience, Billy?¡± I ask. ¡°I had lots of secrets, kid,¡± Billy says in turn. ¡°The Order needs to know about this,¡± Chiaki cut in before we could really start our usual tangent. ¡°I told Brianna I wouldn¡¯t invite the entire Order in on this,¡± I remind her. ¡°That¡¯s well and good,¡± she sounds terse. I¡¯m doing terribly with women today. ¡°Except if we keep this to ourselves and more wolves are killed that will be worse than our analysts being let in on a very important aspect of the case.¡± I knew including her was going to end this way, and I wish I could say that it¡¯s an unnecessary flex, but I know she¡¯s right. We have to tell them and if Brianna gets pissed because we solve the case faster that sounds like her problem. ¡°All right,¡± I agree. ¡°I¡¯ll send the pictures to our analysts, hopefully they¡¯ll make some headway by the time we get back to headquarters.¡± ¡°What¡¯s all this?¡± a brusque voice cuts in. All three of us turn in unison to the tail end of the van, where four, very impressively built men are glowering at us. I was so caught up in the conversation, I didn¡¯t notice their approach. Something both Chiaki and Billy also seem guilty of. Later, I¡¯ll make a comment about Billy being the worst seer, right now¡­I¡¯m sensing how hostile this group is and know it¡¯s not the time for glib comments. They are part of the tactical team we¡¯re meant to be observing. I didn¡¯t feel my pendant alerting me to their presence, but that could be why they¡¯re part of the tactical team. The werewolves look between us and the van and now I can see that the back door is ajar. They looked in, and they saw the equipment. I berate myself endlessly for being so careless. These are Castillo¡¯s elite soldiers, of course they¡¯re going to be harder to detect and deceive than his regular wolves. We should have been on higher alert for that alone, and now we¡¯re going to have to pay the price. The largest of the group snarls, lips pulling back to reveal yellowed teeth. His eyes are a similar hue, yellow and bloodshot. ¡°Come with us,¡± he snaps. ¡°Look, we¡¯re just trying to figure out¡ª¡± I begin to say. ¡°Now!¡± the wolf barks and it¡¯s easy to see that he favors that side over humanity. I glance at Billy, who doesn¡¯t look apprehensive so much as just¡­pensive. He nods, signaling that we should do as asked. I know there¡¯s going to be a senior Centurion here soon enough, but I¡¯m almost hoping they¡¯ll be delayed. I can¡¯t help feeling I¡¯m going to be blamed for this fuck up, and want a chance to fix it before the higher ups get here. I keep my stance mostly neutral, ready to grab my weapon if I need to, but when we step forward to do as told, the werewolves just lead us across the street to the condo. Inside it smells like dog, and my eyes water a touch from how prevalent that smell is; mixed with dirty socks, used dishes and sweat, this is the last place I want to spend a lot of time in. The door is shut behind us, the three other werewolves taking position there to keep us from fleeing. ¡°I demand to know what you were doing here!¡± the lead werewolf snaps. ¡°Bit obvious, yeah?¡± Billy asks to the displeasure of everyone present. ¡°Let me rephrase, watchman, what gives you the right to spy on us? We are the ones being targeted! What could you possibly gain with this invasion of privacy?!¡± ¡°You can¡¯t be ignorant to the fact that your organization is less than willing to work with us,¡± I point out. ¡°And right now, we can¡¯t afford to worry about hurting your feelings if it gets us closer to finding the killer ¡° ¡°Feelings have nothing to do with it!¡± lead thug growls. ¡°Why are you not focusing these resources on the covens? You will find the killer there!¡± ¡°That is unlikely,¡± Chiaki keeps her voice level, calm, but I know that she is also prepared in case violence breaks out. I also know she¡¯s preparing to share what we discussed about the carved letters. ¡°We think¡­¡± I stop her with a harsh ¡°quiet!¡± that has all attention return to me. ¡°Tell us!¡± the werewolf snarls. ¡°Or else admit your hypocrisy in saying we do not cooperate with you.¡± He¡¯s right, it does make me look like a hypocrite, but I¡¯m not doing this to be difficult. I¡¯m doing this to protect Brianna. Her life may be on the line if the syndicate learns she met with a Centurion to give access to one of their dead. It¡¯s a poor way to thank her by throwing her under the bus, especially when that bus had claws and big teeth. The immediate problem, however, is that the man¡¯s already short temper is rapidly deteriorating the longer my refusal to answer becomes. ¡°Tell. Me.¡± ¡°Sorry, Cerberus business.¡± The lead howls in rage and lunges, his large hand closes around my neck and he lifts me with ease before slamming me into the wall. I¡¯m trained for this, I never freeze. The second he grabs me, I grab my gun loaded with silver bullets and jam the barrel under his chin, forcing his head back. ¡°I could snap your neck, human.¡± ¡°Not before I blow your brains out, wolf.¡± The other wolves are growling, and I hear both Chiaki and Billy trying to calm the situation, but I keep my focus entirely on the immediate threat. His grip loosens and my feet touch the floor again, but the danger is still very present so I don¡¯t lower the gun. ¡°You killed one of ours last night, and now this,¡± he sneers. ¡°You do see what¡¯s happening, don¡¯t you?¡± I ask, finger on the trigger. ¡°Order, covens and syndicate not-so-gradually escalating volatility?¡± I can see that despite how much he seems like a thick brute, he¡¯s smarter than outward appearance suggests because there¡¯s comprehension in his eyes. Reluctant as it may be. ¡°You believe this is a set up.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I say, even though he didn¡¯t ask. His grip suddenly tightens again and he throws me into Billy, who staggers and thanks to Chi, doesn¡¯t collapse to the floor with me. ¡°I think it is another ploy from your Order to assert control!¡± This really isn¡¯t going well, and my hope to have this concluded before the senior Centurions arrive gets crushed when I feel their presence outside the condo. A quick look out the window reveals three of them stepping out of a Chevy crossover. The wolves tense further, attune to our kind and thus well aware that with the added skills of those outside, they won¡¯t get away without heavy losses. ¡°Remember this,¡± the lead growls. ¡°It was you who started this incident, you who surveilled us for no just cause, you who refuse to explain yourselves at all. You had no right to do any of these things, not to us, not when we are the ones being slaughtered. You whine about Mr. Castillo not extending a hand to join forces when you have already slipped a knife into our backs. Leave this place. Leave it now. And know that you have destroyed any hope of collaboration. May this killer turn their sights on you and rid us all of your evil.¡± I want to argue with him, I want to say - at least - that evil is a big stretch, but I understand this is our only chance to leave without anyone getting injured or killed. The Centurions outside are approaching the condo, and Chiaki urges us to get out before they reach the door. A door has closed here, and not the actual door of the condo slamming shut behind us when we step back outside, but one that may have been our only chance of stopping this. The wolves won¡¯t help us. Brianna won¡¯t help me anymore, of this I¡¯m certain, and Henry will probably be cut off from their information too even with his amiable relationship with Brianna. What starts as a chance for real progress ends in a slog, and I need the analysts to find something so it¡¯s not a complete failure on my end. ¡°What is going on?¡± one of the senior Centurions, Mauve I think her name is, demands. ¡°Misunderstanding,¡± Billy replies. ¡°No colossal harm done, we need to end this part of the mission for now though, wait until they set up elsewhere and continue then, if necessary.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll get your full report when we return to headquarters,¡± Mauve says, looking unconvinced. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± She and the other two Centurions get back into the Chevy and I get into the back of the van with Chiaki while Billy slides into the driver¡¯s seat. My shoulders are tense, jaw too, to the point I¡¯m going to give myself a headache if I don¡¯t force myself to relax. I can¡¯t though, because I¡¯m thinking about what ramifications this afternoon is going to bring. I¡¯m thinking about Henry, who I still haven¡¯t heard from. I¡¯m thinking about what¡¯s going to happen if more werewolves get killed and they decide they aren¡¯t going to take it anymore. There¡¯s ten days until the full moon, and I don¡¯t want to see werewolves tearing through the streets of Boston for revenge when it arrives. Chapter IV: The Pieces Begin to Align When we get back to headquarters, Billy, Chiaki and I enter through the back while the Senior Centurions go through a side entrance. I¡¯m still mulling over what happened in Southie. I can feel my neck throbbing where the wolf grabbed it and I¡¯m sure it will bruise, but it¡¯s not his violent reaction that I¡¯m really thinking about. It¡¯s his certainty that this is the Order¡¯s fault. I feel like I could have presented piles of evidence to say otherwise, and the tactical team would still say the Order of Cerberus was the puppeteer controlling the strings. It goes to show that our efforts to build good ties with the supernatural is not going well. I assume it¡¯s because leadership can¡¯t pull their heads out of their asses long enough to come to a consensus on how to treat ¡®dark creatures¡¯, preferring to yell over each other about the best way forward without bothering to consult the rest of us. ¡°Come here for a second,¡± Billy says after the elevator opens on the fifth floor, leading the way down the hall. He stops, surprisingly, outside the nondenominational space of worship. No crucified Jesus will be found within, nor any Qur¡¯an or Ark of the Law, but there¡¯s a basic understanding that those of us of faith (it¡¯s a small number) do have a place to escape the heathen masses to pray. In this job? I¡¯ve considered converting to one or all, because sometimes dealing with these things alone is overwhelming. But Billy? I would think he¡¯d be worried about bursting into flames if he passed the threshold. He doesn¡¯t, and the three of us step inside and Billy issues a small ¡®harumph¡¯ from his throat when his brilliant plan for an empty space is foiled by the fact that several people are here. Elena is at the plain pulpit and it seems she¡¯s leading a small group of Techs, Sentinels, Centurions and one other Enchanter in prayer. If it¡¯s not for the cross she wears around her neck I would have no idea what sort of service we¡¯re awkwardly interrupting. ¡°Have you come to join us?¡± she asks, and if she¡¯s pissed that we burst in here she hides it well. Maybe she¡¯s more excited at the prospect of converts. ¡°Er¡­no, sorry Enchantress Elena,¡± Billy says, all formal so he can avoid retribution. Or so he can charm her out of here. He may be an old bastard, but Billy still has moves. He smiles at her, apologetically, and presses his palms together and bows somewhat awkwardly to extend the apology to the others in the tiny congregation. ¡°I needed to seek guidance with Riley and Chiaki, I should have looked at the schedule.¡± ¡°It is posted right outside,¡± Elena retorts, but there¡¯s an understanding smile on her lips. ¡°We were just finishing as it is, if you¡¯d give me just a minute?¡± Billy nods and Elena resumes something or other from the Bible, to which the attendees give a solemn ¡®amen¡¯ and then gather their things. Billy goes to Elena and I hear him apologizing again, but Elena assures him it¡¯s fine. As she leaves the room, she wishes me and Chiaki a good day and then it¡¯s just the three of us again. ¡°God, how embarrassing,¡± I blurt out. ¡°You can ask for forgiveness later, kid,¡± Billy replies. ¡°Hey, coming in here wasn¡¯t my idea,¡± I point out. ¡°Yet the fact you¡¯re the guilty one says so much. Were you raised Catholic?¡± ¡°Is it so obvious?¡± ¡°I mean¡­I could illustrate all the signs, but it may come off as plain mean.¡± ¡°Is there a reason we''re here?¡± Chiaki asks, once again exasperated at Billy and I falling into a tangent. ¡°I think our killer was nearby,¡± Billy resumes like we weren¡¯t getting into it. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter how well-trained Castillo¡¯s strike force is, there¡¯s no way our pendants wouldn¡¯t alert us to their presence. I¡¯m assuming yours didn¡¯t vibrate either, anyway, if it did and you just didn¡¯t notice or say anything¡­fuck you, frankly.¡± ¡°I did not feel mine,¡± Chiaki says sharply, like this is a test. She treats everything like it¡¯s a chance for promotion. ¡°Yeah me either,¡± I add. ¡°So, why does that mean the killer was nearby?¡± ¡°Because if our killer uses magic, they could use it to interfere with our artifacts.¡± ¡°Did they hope the werewolves would attack us?¡± Chiaki asks, looking pensive. ¡°Probably. Two birds with one stone,¡± Billy says, but I can tell he¡¯s still in theoretical mode. We¡¯re all just guessing at this point, and I¡¯m still feeling frustration bubbling up in my gut, threatening to rush through my veins, fire off through my mind and make me eager to find anything no matter what. ¡°It raises two questions, children. Was the killer targeting that group of wolves, in which case we either thwarted them by showing up or we¡¯re going to hear that one of them bit it since we left¡­or, are the wolves running circles around us and the killer is working with them? We know Castillo is¡­creative in his punishments to those who disobey him, these victims may be wolves slated for death anyway.¡± ¡°Brianna mentioned that Castillo doesn¡¯t share a lot of personal shit,¡± I murmur. ¡°Her grief was real though. The corpse she showed me? She wasn¡¯t expecting that wolf to die, and she¡¯s his second-in-command. I can¡¯t believe she wouldn¡¯t know about this.¡± ¡°How well do you know her?¡± Chiaki asks. ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± I admit. ¡°Henry does, but he won¡¯t be available until the sun goes down. I don¡¯t know, it doesn¡¯t match the Castillo on file. If he wanted to fuck with us and the vampires, he¡¯d do so openly, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± Billy concedes. ¡°But we can¡¯t eliminate any possibilities yet, unfortunately. But we can be sure that our pendants did not work back there because someone was fucking with the charm on them.¡± The door opens with a sudden creak and we all turn around sharply. Enchanter Ulysses is standing there and his expression is tight. I wonder how long he¡¯s been standing there and realize I may be in danger of getting paranoid about everyone at this point. He clears his throat, looking between the three of us. ¡°Ms Carver wants to see you,¡± he says. ¡°All three of you.¡± By now, the Senior Centurions who reported to Southie will have also reported to the boss, which means she¡¯s going to be pissed about the near incident thanks to¡­well, me, mainly, but also the killer for messing with our protective, detective enchantment. I¡¯ll play that angle, anyway. I sigh and look towards Billy with a shrug; like me, he seems expectant of this moment and only grins goofily at me. Chiaki though¡­I do feel bad for her because she looks devastated and she¡¯s only being lumped in with me and Billy because we got her involved in the first place. She says nothing when we follow Ulysses out of the room and to the elevator. Ulysses presses the button for the top floor and the tension becomes thick as smoke as the elevator crawls towards its destination. ¡°Wow, this is the only time I wish there was Muzak playing,¡± Billy says with enough force that it sounds inappropriately aggressive. It¡¯s probably nerves, but I start cracking up with laughter. ?????¡ã???¡ã????? When I think of the name Betty, my first thought is Betty White. The second is of a sweet, old grandmother with curly white hair, big rosy cheeks, a gingham dress and holding a plate of homemade cookies. I couldn¡¯t tell anyone why that¡¯s the image the name conjures in my mind, but it¡¯s about as far as you could get from Betty Carver. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. She¡¯s tall, taller than Billy and he¡¯s a respectable height. Her features are sharp and hard, defined cheekbones and green eyes that do a good job of resembling green flame. Her thin lips are usually set in a firm line, accentuated by Nasolabial Folds which makes me like to imagine that she used to laugh a lot, and may be capable of such again. Her dark gray hair is cut in a severe bob around her face, and she wears a smart pantsuit that isn¡¯t flashy, but is well fitted and obviously expensive. Next to her is Sheldon, which is unfair because having both sets of those piercing eyes boring down on us seems excessive. ¡°I¡¯ve just finished listening to a report about your utter embarrassment of a performance in your task,¡± Carver begins, going for the KO punch right at the start. ¡°No information from the strike force, alerting Castillo that the Order is watching his pack, almost getting into a fight with them, and this is all after unauthorized meetings with both werewolves and vampires.¡± ¡°Uh, well that last part is just on me,¡± I murmur. ¡°I know it is on you, Centurion. You may think it is not a big deal that you have these relationships, Mr. Averline, but I assure you they do more damage than you¡¯re capable of imagining.¡± I can feel Chiaki looking at me, but I don¡¯t dare look away from Carver and I have no idea if my fellow Centurion is trying to give me sympathy, or silently scolding me along with the boss. I¡¯m going to go with the former, just to give myself a boost for this ass chewing that¡¯s just getting started. ¡°You jeopardize all protocol by flitting off on a whim to discuss cases with these associates. Cases! Do you think our classification system is for show? That you don¡¯t give up secrets that could have huge ramifications later? Even if your Mr. Stone keeps to himself, other vampires will attempt to establish a similar bond with members of the Order, and not for good intention. Your meeting with Castillo¡¯s second¡­you don¡¯t think she will report what happened to him? That it will put him further on guard than your bumbling antics in South End undoubtedly have already?¡± I feel like it¡¯s a touch unfair that all of this is being put on me, but I know better than to interrupt her just to say so. ¡°However,¡± she stresses. ¡°We would not have gotten near one of the bodies without your direct involvement with said associates.¡± I blink, I think my jaw goes slack for a second too, then I shake myself out of it so I¡¯m not just staring dumbly at my boss, who is still very much in a temper. ¡°You know about that?¡± is all I can think to ask, which¡­if I took a second to think about it, I would have made that connection already. Otherwise Carver wouldn¡¯t bring up Brianna at all. ¡°One of the analysts, Omar, tipped me off once he received the photographs which you sent him.¡± Dammit Omar. I guess I thought our bender the other month established him as a confidant. Then again¡­I drank so much that weekend I don¡¯t even remember what we talked about. I can¡¯t fault him for not wanting to get canned by keeping it a secret, although I¡¯m disappointed anyway. I feel like I can¡¯t get anything right today. ¡°I looked over the photographs,¡± Carver says. ¡°It is an incantation.¡± ¡°You understand what it says?¡± I ask. She narrows her eyes and I feel like I can¡¯t breathe when she levels that glare solely at me. ¡°Yes,¡± she replies. ¡°Some of it, we¡¯re still working on the rest. It is related to an old sect, although we have yet to get the name of it from the¡­text.¡± Text seems like such a nice way to describe carving into someone¡¯s bones. ¡°However, the gist is bad enough. Whoever is responsible for this, it is not simply a matter of killing werewolves. They are learning, adapting, that¡¯s why they are getting, literally, under the skin.¡± A chill seems to settle over the office. My palms feel clammy and suddenly, I want another cigarette, that I need one to level out before Carver drops whatever bomb she¡¯s sitting on. ¡°They are trying to create a spell that will force the change,¡± she sighs. ¡°You know how many werewolves are in Boston thanks to Castillo¡¯s pack, imagine every single one of them forced into their bestial mode. With no warning, no precautions that they usually take for the full moon, all but rabid as they¡¯d have absolutely no control over the wolf.¡± ¡°But¡­why? Why would anyone do this?¡± Chiaki¡¯s voice sounds strangled, panic closing her throat. ¡°We believe it is for something¡­else,¡± Sheldon finally chimes in. ¡°But we need to translate more of the ritual. Blood is power, it has always been something that can amplify magic ¨C to a dangerous degree. It always requires sacrifice. We think that the amount of blood that would be shed by unleashing the werewolves through the city would be more than enough to accomplish whatever this fiend seeks.¡± Billy scratches at his hair, looking thoughtful and worried. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t need to use werewolves if the intent is to slaughter as many as possible. You know how much damage weaponized magic can do. I still think this has a personal connection with werewolves, with Castillo¡¯s pack or the man himself especially.¡± ¡°Unless there is something distinctive in werewolf blood that the mage needs,¡± Carver counters. ¡°We don¡¯t know, and until we can get that translation finished¡­we won¡¯t know. The trouble is, we¡¯re running out of time.¡± ¡°Oh, is that all?¡± I ask, earning another glare at what is deemed a flippant attitude. ¡°It is time we make an official pledge towards the werewolves,¡± Carver doesn¡¯t look thrilled at her own suggestion, nor does Sheldon who visibly wrinkles his nose. ¡°If we give them this information, they may have a chance to counter it. But if they¡¯re completely blind to what this adversary is up to, then there¡¯s a better chance that we¡¯ll all play right into our foe¡¯s hands.¡± ¡°I can give it to them,¡± I say. ¡°I have Brianna¡¯s number, I can get in touch with her and tell her that we need to work together on this.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t comment on the amount of violations you¡¯ve committed in a single day, Averline,¡± Carver replies tightly. ¡°But yes, do that. Now, you¡¯re dismissed. Do not come back until you have their commitment to handle this as a team.¡± Sure, like that¡¯s going to be a quick turnaround. I keep the comment to myself and turn to leave Carver¡¯s office. Billy and Chiaki remain behind, and I wish I could have a live feed of what they talk about as soon as I depart. I¡¯m sure Billy will tell me later though, so for now I focus on what I need to do. Exiting headquarters again, I move to the neighboring coffee house so I can blend in with the normal people. It¡¯s an off time for the shop, and it¡¯s blessedly quiet. I take a seat towards the back and pull out my phone to see I have three missed calls from Henry. ¡°About fucking time,¡± I whisper in complete relief. I decide to call him back before getting in touch with Brianna. His familiar voice picks up on the second ring and I can¡¯t help but smile upon hearing him. ¡°There he is,¡± I say brightly. ¡°Fuck, I was worried about you, you dick. You can¡¯t just disappear like that.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± Henry replies, too distracted from the sounds of it to realize I was only joking with him. ¡°You are okay, right?¡± I ask. ¡°Hm? Oh. Yes, I¡¯m¡­fine.¡± There¡¯s an awkward pause after that declaration and then he clears his throat unnecessarily. ¡°We need to meet, straight away.¡± ¡°I am in such demand today,¡± I sigh. ¡°Fine. Where?¡± ¡°Back Bay.¡± My eyebrows lift towards my hairline. ¡°What are you doing there?¡± It¡¯s way too affluent for either of us to fit in there. Besides, it¡¯s not a place of happy memories. Henry and I used to say that we would live there one day, back when we were still married. Back when we were about to start a family. My hand goes to my abdomen automatically as I wait for Henry to answer. ¡°I¡¯m, uh, I¡¯m with Mr. Castillo.¡± ¡°WHAT?!¡± ¡°Riley!¡± Henry complains. ¡°Sorry,¡± because he does have exceptionally sensitive hearing as a vampire and my screaming right into his ear can¡¯t be pleasant. ¡°What?¡± I ask a little less loudly, ignoring the few customers who are staring at me now. ¡°Just¡­get here, please? I¡¯ll text you the address.¡± ¡°I¡­what?¡± I say again, lamely. My brain is still trying to compute the fact that Henry Stone is hanging out with notorious crime boss Alejandro Castillo. In no world does that make any sort of sense. ¡°I mean¡­yeah. Okay. Shoot me the address and I¡¯ll head over to his¡­house? Office?¡± ¡°House.¡± ¡°That makes it even weirder.¡± ¡°R i l e y.¡± ¡°Okay, okay. I¡¯m hanging up now. I¡¯ll¡­see you soon.¡± I end the call and just stare at my phone. I almost hope he doesn¡¯t text me, so I can convince myself I imagined that whole conversation but then the screen lights up. There¡¯s the address. I¡¯ve never met Castillo, I know what he looks like on account of the pictures of him at the Order, but as far as I know¡­no one I know has met him. Sheldon, I think. Carver too, from back when the Order arrested Castillo over a decade ago. And now I¡¯m going to be in his house, something I¡¯m sure no member of the Order has done before. I leave the coffee place in a daze, ambling towards the nearest T station so I can make my way to this surprising new destination. Chapter V: Paradise I stare up at the townhome on Fairfield Street with a mixture of awe and envy. It¡¯s huge, for one. Multi-million dollar price tag, I¡¯m sure. Brick, with lots of fine details dating it back to the late 1800¡¯s, plus a corner lot which makes it even more spacious than some of the other impressive homes lining the street. There¡¯s the saying that Crime Doesn¡¯t Pay, but¡­from where I¡¯m standing it kind of looks like it does. I¡¯m nervous, and surprised at how close the place is to headquarters, but I try not to be as I finally approach the front entrance and ring the bell. I wait for only a few seconds before the door opens to reveal¡­not Henry or Castillo, but a short, old woman in plain clothes. A live-in maid? Jesus, this guy is loaded. She stares up at me balefully and I clear my throat, feeling inexplicably judged. ¡°Riley Averline? I¡¯m here to meet with Henry Stone.¡± She nods and steps back, gesturing to me to come inside. I do so and look around in wonder. It¡¯s like stepping into a museum, it¡¯s absolutely pristine and gorgeous. There¡¯s a large, sweeping staircase in the entrance hall that leads to the upper storeys, and as I¡¯m led down the hall, which boasts beautiful paintings with gold-inlaid frames, I look to the right to see a living room with giant bay windows and a fireplace. Beyond that is a formal dining room that looks like it¡¯s set for a movie. As we near the back of the house, a delicious smell greets us, spices and herbs I can¡¯t name from scent alone, but it makes a fine aroma. The smell is coming from the large kitchen, which has the checkered black and white marble tile flooring that again makes me feel like I¡¯m walking through a movie set. Pride & Prejudice & a Rich Werewolf Boss. Except there¡¯s Henry sitting at a kitchen island, sipping something from a cup ¨C I can¡¯t see what, but it must be blood. His diet is extremely limited these days. And there at the stove is Alejandro Castillo. The maid speaks to him in rapid-fire Spanish, to which he responds in kind. Then she leaves the kitchen and Castillo turns down the heat on the stove and turns to face me. He¡¯s a darkly handsome man, I would put him in his early fifties although with werewolves contemporary age doesn¡¯t mean much since they usually live well into their hundreds. He has black hair and thick brows, dark eyes that might be black and while his nose is a touch too long for his face, it manages to complement his features rather than detract. Unfortunately, he looks inherently mean. As though there¡¯s a level of contempt about him for anything that is not him, while somehow maintaining a completely stoic fa?ade that suggests aloofness more than anything else. There¡¯s no getting around it though, Castillo is an intimidating bastard and his height certainly plays into that. He¡¯s easily 6¡¯4¡±, if not even taller, and equipped with lean muscle that means he¡¯s probably dangerously fast on top of being physically strong. I shift my gaze to Henry, checking him for signs of visible duress or injury, but he looks fine. So I return my attention to the syndicate boss. ¡°Mr. Castillo¡­I hope I can say it¡¯s a pleasure, it¡¯s certainly a surprise.¡± ¡°I was expecting a man,¡± he says flatly. I feel a rush of anger in my chest but I manage to keep it hidden. ¡°And here he is,¡± I reply coldly. He looks perplexed for only a second before understanding comes over his face. ¡°Hm.¡± I can¡¯t tell if there¡¯s scorn in the noise or if it¡¯s just an acknowledgment of my identity. I choose to think it¡¯s the latter so I don¡¯t get into another almost-fight with a werewolf today. ¡°Sit,¡± he orders more than suggests, gesturing to the island where Henry is. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± Henry mutters when I join him. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I reply quietly. I want to ask if he¡¯s all right, if he¡¯s here against his will, something because the idea of him just¡­being here is still far too strange for me to accept. I don¡¯t want to have that discussion with Castillo in the room, however, so I bite back my curiosity for the time being. I focus instead on our host, who had turned back to cooking, but is now serving food on two plates. He brings them over and I¡¯m surprised again to learn that a merciless crime boss is a good host. I look at the dish, recognizing meatballs. ¡°Albondigas,¡± he says. ¡°Served in tomato sauce.¡± ¡°Thanks¡­?¡± ¡°De nada.¡± He sits on the other side of the island and I feel like Ashton Kutcher is going to pop out and say I¡¯ve been Punk¡¯d. ¡°It smells good,¡± Henry says. ¡°And your drink, santito?¡± Oh God. They already have nicknames? If Henry is about to tell me he¡¯s involved with Castillo I¡¯ll drown myself in my food. I would have never guessed. Henry¡¯s never expressed interest in men before, honestly before we began dating I thought he was asexual. Things changed, though. A lot of things. I¡¯m no longer sporting dresses and long hair, and he¡¯s not even human anymore. I assess if I¡¯m feeling jealous, but I think I¡¯m too shocked to feel anything else. ¡°It¡¯s fine, thank you,¡± Henry¡¯s voice is distant, almost annoyed, which makes me think I jumped to conclusions and maybe santito is an insult rather than an endearment. Most vampires wouldn¡¯t be classified as saints. It does fit Henry though, painfully so. He¡¯s so nice he makes everybody look like a complete dirtbag. Myself included. ¡°Why am I here?¡± I ask, unable to take this tension anymore. ¡°As I understand it, you have no interest in working with the Order of Cerberus. Did that change, Mr. Castillo?¡± ¡°Si,¡± he replies, infuriatingly calm while my voice is high from strain. ¡°Henry¡¯s coordination with Brianna and yourself led me to the decision. I wish to know what you understood from the autopsy.¡± So Brianna did tell him. Or all the wolves were marked like the one I saw and Castillo¡¯s been trying to decipher the text this entire time. I think back to what Carver said at headquarters not even an hour ago, about me breaking the rules and committing a plethora of violations. I¡¯m already in the shit, and she did acknowledge it helped us out, so I decide to go forward. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, and we don¡¯t have the luxury of time to debate how much we¡¯re extending an alliance with the werewolves. I just have to hope that this doesn''t bite me in the ass later. I know the stories about Castillo, I know the sort of man he is, and I''m taking a big risk divulging information that he could, potentially, use against the Order. I begin to tell him about the mage''s intent to force the change on the werewolves in the city, watching his face to gauge his reaction. He is impressively stoic, so I glean nothing. I press on to share our suspicions that carnage and chaos likely aren''t the end game for our rogue mage, but what their true purpose is remains a mystery. Castillo barely moves while I explain this, no nods to show he¡¯s actively listening, just those coal black eyes fixated on my face while he takes an occasional bite from his meal. Henry, on the other hand, tenses next to me as he listens with rapt attention. When Castillo doesn''t immediately speak, I opt to try my dish and I¡¯m surprised when the meatballs aren¡¯t made of beef but of ¡°...what is this?¡± I ask. ¡°Squid,¡± he replies. ¡°...Right. So, what do you make of this?¡± I ask. ¡°This is delicious, by the way,¡± I add honestly because the man can cook. ¡°Gracias. It would seem we have the piece the other needs.¡± ¡°You know the underlying reason Riley mentioned,¡± Henry muses. ¡°What I told you already,¡± Castillo confirms. ¡°What do you know of magic, Centurion?¡± he asks me. ¡°What the Order teaches all its members about it. That those with the Gift can pull energy from different realms and it manifests as magic here.¡± ¡°That is a lie, meant to mislead those with magic from¡­experimenting,¡± Castillo says and now he sounds smug. Asshole. ¡°It is not from a number of ¡®different realms¡¯, rather it is from one source, a source manipulated by thought and perception. Reality can shift based on perspective, no? To you, I am a werewolf. To most who pass me by, I am but a man. And to some I am an unwelcome immigrant regardless of my status. Each is true to whoever holds such a perception.¡± ¡°But how does that pertain to magic?¡± I ask. ¡°The Gift is not simply drawing energy to manifest it as a flame, for example. It is manifesting thought into reality, and drawing energy from the True Source to do it. When a mage experiments, it can lead to new results. Why do you think there are so many new spells and potions, poisons and enchantments flooding the markets?¡± ¡°Wait¡­shit. So you¡¯re saying a mage can just¡­think of what they want as a spell and it¡¯ll manifest?¡± ¡°Yes and no. It takes much from the mage to do this, they would have to be highly skilled and even then, in many cases¡­¡± ¡°It would require more,¡± I finish the thought. ¡°Like the life force of others, in this case, your werewolves.¡± ¡°But what manner of spell would require so much blood?¡± Henry asks. ¡°I¡¯ve heard rumors in the underground over the years,¡± Castillo continues. ¡°Of mages seeking Paradise. That too changes based on the mage and their beliefs. It may be Eden to one, Nirvana to another, and so forth. With all that we know of the world, there can be little doubt that such a place exists, whatever it may truly be. I believe it is the heart of magic, the True Source from which all of those with the gift are connected. Can you imagine how much potential would be there?¡­A mage with that power would be unstoppable.¡± ¡°You seem very well informed about all of this, Mr. Castillo,¡± I point out. ¡°I am very well connected,¡± he retorts. ¡°More so than your Order. If you did not know, most of us withhold any pertinent information from your kind.¡± ¡°Yeahh I got that feeling,¡± I sigh. ¡°But why werewolves?¡± Henry inquires. ¡°And not¡­random victims? It¡¯s horrible either way, but it seems very¡­specific.¡± ¡°Who can say,¡± Castillo replies, but there¡¯s something to his tone that makes me think he is withholding this very minute. ¡°Perhaps one they loved was bitten, or they simply have a prejudice.¡± ¡°Or you murdered one of their loved ones,¡± I add. ¡°Or that,¡± he agrees with a level of indifference that chills me. ¡°If this person succeeds, imagine how much blood will be shed if the entirety of my pack is let loose on Boston.¡± ¡°Enough to open Paradise,¡± Henry murmurs. ¡°Fuck,¡± I expel. I always knew there had to be more to magic than what the Centurions are told. Whenever there¡¯s a rogue mage, one of our Enchanters is always sent to deal with the problem. If you can¡¯t use it, you can¡¯t use it. I guess they didn¡¯t want to bother giving us normal types the full story¡­or maybe they don¡¯t know either. That¡¯s a scarier thought, but the idea of Carver not being aware of this strikes me as impossible. We have some powerful magic users among us, there¡¯s probably more than one who could shape new magic in the way Castillo talked about. Probably powerful enough to pull off this mad spell too. I hope that means they¡¯d be strong enough to stop it in that case. ¡°And the Order will try to detain the werewolves, which means our mage is free to cast their spell.¡± ¡°Maybe that¡¯s the reason to target werewolves in the first place,¡± Castillo suggests. ¡°No other creature has such a vulnerability, and to exploit it would be to keep the Order under control too.¡± ¡°Make sense,¡± I reply. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t get us closer to finding out who the fuck this killer is.¡± ¡°Did they leave no trace?¡± Henry asks Castillo. ¡°No¡­scent you could follow?¡± ¡°Did you smell anything?¡± ¡°Well...No.¡± ¡°There is your answer, cabr¨®n.¡± ¡°It was a reasonable question.¡± ¡°More of a na?ve one.¡± I¡¯m starting to understand how Chiaki must feel when she has to deal with me and Billy. ¡°Is there any sort of pattern?¡± I ask, interrupting them. ¡°Anything about the wolves in particular that links them and could help us pinpoint the next victim?¡± ¡°They were all Halcones¡­eyes and ears on the street, low rank. Nobodies.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a nice way to view your murdered wolves,¡± I scoff. ¡°How many Halcones do you have?¡± ¡°Is that a serious question?¡± ¡°Um¡­yes.¡± ¡°Two hundred.¡± ¡°...Shit.¡± ¡°That is not counting the Sicarios, Tenientes or Capos,¡± Castillo adds, as if it¡¯s not horrible enough to think of two hundred werewolves rampaging through the city. ¡°If we can¡¯t narrow down the next potential victim, then what do we do?¡± Henry sounds as defeated as I feel. ¡°Maybe you and your pack should leave Boston for a while?¡± I suggest to Castillo, who gives me such a withering look I feel like I¡¯ve suddenly made the stupidest proposal ever made. ¡°What do you suggest then?¡± ¡°That you do your job.¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Now it¡¯s my turn to give him a sharp look, because as far as I¡¯m concerned I¡¯m doing well beyond my job. Just my being here, in what could have been a trap - yet again, proves as much. I could have never told Henry about the first murders and never gotten him involved, which would have never brought me to Brianna and getting the ¡®other piece¡¯ to Castillo today. If it wasn¡¯t for me going beyond the call of duty, he wouldn¡¯t have the warning about the forced change looming over the city. ¡°I¡¯m going back to headquarters,¡± I decide. ¡°Maybe if they know what the mage is doing, they¡¯ll know who is strong enough to pull it off.¡± ¡°One would hope,¡± Castillo sneers. ¡°Otherwise the capabilities of your Order may be called into question.¡± ¡°And we wouldn¡¯t want that, would we?¡± I ask with a false smile. I get up from my barstool at the island and look at Henry. ¡°Are you coming?¡± ¡°Yes, I believe it¡¯s time I get out of Mr. Castillo¡¯s hair. Thank you for your hospitality,¡± this he directs to the syndicate boss. ¡°Your time in my home will not soon be forgotten,¡± Castillo replies and at the surface it sounds like a compliment, but beneath that is something sinister. There¡¯s a rumor about debts and Castillo, and that being in his debt is akin to a death sentence. I won¡¯t let him hurt Henry though, so if that¡¯s ever his intention, he¡¯s going to pay dearly for it. ¡°Should I let my boss know she can contact you?¡± I ask as we prepare to leave. I notice the maid is back, waiting to escort us straight to the door. ¡°No,¡± Castillo says. ¡°Go through Henry.¡± ¡°I am the willing messenger,¡± Henry says with a supplicating smile. To my surprise, and I am getting tired of being surprised, Castillo smiles back. It does nothing to take away from his looking mean, and is in fact probably more threatening than his stoic expression. I¡¯m glad to be out of the house, and when the door shuts behind us I take a minute to let my brain process everything. It¡¯s night by now, the sky ahead is a hazy orange from all the lights and I¡¯m feeling drained, but I know I¡¯m nowhere near sleeping yet. ¡°So, how the hell did you end up here?¡± I finally ask as I lead the way from the front steps. ¡°Oh, when I went to meet with Brianna about the body, Castillo was there too,¡± Henry replies. ¡°We were going over the details, but it was getting late, the sun was coming out in force, and Castillo¡¯s car has exceptionally dark tinted windows so we came here. It¡¯s a lot closer than Roslindale.¡± ¡°And headquarters,¡± I point out. ¡°We could fucking walk to Order HQ from here. That¡¯s¡­probably not a coincidence.¡± ¡°Under the radar?¡± Henry suggests. ¡°I guess. I¡¯m sure Carver knows he¡¯s so close, but then maybe Carver doesn¡¯t like to share important information with us grunts. I didn¡¯t know all that shit about magic, and I feel like I should have the moment I became a Centurion.¡± ¡°That is odd,¡± Henry agrees. ¡°What should happen if a Centurion runs into an enemy spellcaster? Without knowing what a mage is truly capable of, it could mean their death.¡± ¡°Exactly. Unless the ability to¡­create new magic is reserved for the most powerful, like Castillo mentioned, but I still feel like it¡¯s something that should¡¯ve been shared.¡± ¡°I got the impression that he knows a lot more than he should,¡± Henry continues as we opt for walking after all. It¡¯s only about thirty minutes on foot and the cool air is helping me get re-energized as much as my indignation is. ¡°As if¡­maybe he knew a mage who could do it, or wanted to get to Paradise.¡± ¡°Plot twist, Castillo is the mage and is fucking us all over so he can get to the True Source of All Magic.¡± ¡°Could a werewolf be a mage? I know any magic wielder who is turned into a vampire loses the Gift. I suppose one has to be¡­alive to use magic.¡± I try not to wince, because it¡¯s disturbing thinking of Henry as undead. Even if it is technically true. ¡°There¡¯s been cases of it,¡± I sigh. ¡°But not for a very long time. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s our guy anyway. Castillo seems to prefer being blunt over cryptic, and I can¡¯t picture him maniacally grinning over steepled fingers as he toys with us. I think he wants this solved as much as we do.¡± ¡°Yes, I get that impression too.¡± ¡°I mean, you¡¯re the one who had a sleepover with him, so you would know more than I would.¡± Henry huffs a laugh that he can¡¯t quite hide and shakes his head. ¡°I am sorry to disappoint you. To be honest, he scares me so¡­I retreated the minute we got to his house. I hardly saw him until this morning.¡± ¡°To be honest, he scares me too so I believe you. I don¡¯t think he would have told you anything even if you did hang out. Still, I¡¯m curious about these underground sources he mentioned. It may be time to take a trip to the market.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t it dangerous for Centurions?¡± ¡°It is, unless they¡¯re accompanied by a vampire or any sort of supernatural type, really.¡± ¡°Ah. How convenient for you then. Very well, let me know when you¡¯re going, just¡­try to make it at night for a change.¡± When we get to the corner of Beacon Street we stop. It¡¯s best that Henry doesn¡¯t come with me to the front door of headquarters, I don¡¯t want any other Centurions claiming he¡¯s trying to raid the place. ¡°Keep by your phone, okay?¡± ¡°Of course, Riley. I hope one of yours will be able to narrow down our suspects. I¡¯m quite tired of having zero.¡± ¡°You and me both,¡± I groan. ¡°I¡¯ll keep you posted, and likewise if you get any calls from your criminal associates, santito.¡± ¡°Riley.¡± ¡°First Brianna, now Castillo,¡± I pause, then grin. ¡°I never knew you were such a dog person.¡± ¡°Oh my¨C! You¡¯re impossible, you know!¡± ¡°I know.¡± ¡°Go on before I¡­I bite you.¡± ¡°Mr. Stone, that would either be welcomed or assault depending on where you were going to do the deed.¡± I shouldn¡¯t tease him so much. He¡¯s in his thirties, but he has the innocence of someone younger, even as a vampire that hasn¡¯t changed yet, and I hope it never will. But it does result in him looking entirely flustered by now. I¡¯m taking some of my stress out on him, trying for levity at his expense and the devious humor that managed to make me forget about all the shit going on for a second rushes out of me. Who knows how many more nights Boston will have like this? What if a howl marks the end this very night? ¡°Sorry,¡± I mutter. ¡°I¡¯m just antsy. Get somewhere safe, okay? Just in case?¡± ¡°All right. Don¡¯t do anything stupid,¡± he replies, and I notice this time he doesn¡¯t accept my apology. At least not vocally¡­maybe not at all. He turns to head back the way we came to get to the station, and I move in the opposite direction to get back to HQ. ?????¡ã???¡ã????? I go straight to Carver¡¯s office on the top floor when I get back into the building. She calls me in with a gruff ¡°enter!¡± when I knock, and I step inside to see that Billy and Chiaki are no longer present. Sheldon is also missing from her side, which tells me the Order is working full force on this mission. Carver is seated at her desk, pouring over the text which has been printed on paper so she doesn¡¯t have to discern markings through blood and viscera of autopsy photos. ¡°Averline. I take it that you¡¯ve succeeded since you¡¯re back.¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. I just had a productive meeting with the man himself,¡± I reply. She looks at me with an unreadable expression. ¡°Castillo,¡± I add as if she didn¡¯t catch my meaning. ¡°Sometimes I think you are avidly trying to get removed from the Order,¡± Carver sighs. ¡°All right, so you met with notorious crime boss Alejandro Castillo and he agreed to work with us?¡± ¡°Somewhat,¡± I admit. ¡°Henry is our go between, Castillo won¡¯t let us contact him directly. Did you know he lives really close to headquarters?¡± ¡°Of course I did,¡± Carver replies. ¡°What did you learn?¡± ¡°A bit more about magic,¡± I continue, my voice getting harder. ¡°Something about how mages can think spells into reality. Manifesting them through some True Source that is only limited by imagination. I don¡¯t know, I think if I knew that before I could have gone about this differently. Anyway, it would seem our mage might be attempting to open Paradise, which is where this True Source is, thus giving said murderous mage all the power in all of creation.¡± Carver doesn¡¯t look at all abashed that I¡¯m only learning this about magic now. No sign of guilt or shame¡­she¡¯s pure business mode as she leans back in her office chair, deep in thought. ¡°It would require a sacrifice to get to such a place,¡± she murmurs. ¡°But the one responsible would need so much power, conduits¡­blood.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say loudly. ¡°But you know about this place too? How the fuck is this not part of Centurion training?¡± Now she seems to remember I¡¯m in the office with her and not some recording device spitting out information. ¡°How would you have run your investigation had you known about this?¡± Carver asks sharply. ¡°Eliminating the lower level magic users for starters,¡± I counter. ¡°Not wasting time investigating the vampires, who couldn¡¯t possibly be behind it since they can¡¯t use magic at all!¡± ¡°It was not a waste of time to check the vampires,¡± Carver says. ¡°Knowing more about magic would not make you ¡®magically¡¯ perceptive to the nature of the deaths. Remember the killer made it seem the cause of death was vampires.¡± I glower at her, because this all went differently in my head. I thought she might be surprised I found out, and say sorry. Instead she has the nerve to look mad at me for bringing it up. ¡°Maybe I would have recognized what was happening after seeing the corpse with Brianna.¡± ¡°Think about this for a moment, Averline,¡± Carver insists. ¡°Think about the potential of danger that would come from word of this Paradise spreading. Lower to mid-level mages wouldn¡¯t even fathom such a place, they would have no earthly reason to expect anything like it. But if they knew about it, what would they do to achieve more power to gain entry? Or to create spells beyond their capacity? What would vampires and werewolves, or the Fae, or even the mundane do if they learned of such a place? How far would ambition bring them to open the way? There are only a few who can feel that there is more to magic, that it is not confined to the elements but how we perceive those elements.¡± It makes sense to keep that ambition from reaching every magic user, but I¡¯m still not satisfied. ¡°I just think you should trust your Centurions with the information,¡± I argue. ¡°Discretion is part of our job, I can¡¯t imagine any of us bringing it up in conversation outside of cases.¡± ¡°Centurions defect at times, Mr. Averline. It is damaging enough when that happens, I won¡¯t add another level of danger by imparting knowledge they can do little with, save increasing the risk of that information getting into the wrong hands.¡± We¡¯re going in circles, and I know that sooner rather than later, she¡¯s going to snap at me. I can¡¯t agree with her on this, I won¡¯t, but I also know that right now it¡¯s not the time to draw out this conversation. We need to focus on finding this one mage who does know all about Paradise already. I hear approaching footsteps, and since the door is open¡­or maybe because he¡¯s known Carver for a hundred odd years, Sheldon walks in without knocking. He is accompanied by Ulysses and Elena again. ¡°Report,¡± Carver says. ¡°The Moliere Coven has agreed to work with us, Charlemagne is certain he¡¯ll be able to convince the Dearden and ¨® Ceallaigh covens on board too,¡± Elena says. ¡°Good work,¡± Carver replies. ¡°Averline was just telling me he secured Castillo¡¯s support as well.¡± Sheldon looks at me suspiciously, but nods. ¡°With our combined efforts, we should not be long in apprehending our foe.¡± ¡°Hopefully,¡± Ulysses sighs. ¡°There is the risk that all our increased activity will put this mage on alert.¡± ¡°Do we have any idea of who it may be?¡± I ask. ¡°It sounds like there are very specific requirements to¡­uh¡­¡± I trail off, because I don¡¯t know if the other three know about the True Source and Paradise, and Carver just finished telling me off about why she didn¡¯t tell me in the first place. ¡°They know,¡± she says. ¡°About Paradise,¡± she adds to the others. ¡°Give your full report, Centurion.¡± I tell them about the mage forcing the change in order to unleash the werewolves for the amount of blood that would be shed in such an event, blood enough to give an already powerful mage the strength to open this paradise and reach the source of all magic, or all its potential. I¡¯m still processing what exactly the source would be now that I know more about the intricacies of magic. I also voice my fears that the Order, which was established specifically to protect the mundane from the supernatural, and the supernatural from the mundane, would be obligated to try and control the werewolves in this event, which may leave the mage free to cast the spell. ¡°He has over two hundred wolves in the city,¡± I conclude. ¡°It would be mayhem,¡± Sheldon says quietly. ¡°We cannot let this come to pass.¡± I consider asking for permission to go to the market to try and find some of Castillo¡¯s sources, but I¡¯m pretty sure Carver would tell me no, on account of keeping the knowledge I¡¯ve gained to myself. I can see her fears of it getting out there, I can, but I¡¯m also terrified that if we don¡¯t do something soon, we¡¯re going to lose our chance of stopping this without a lot more deaths. I can broach the subject tactfully, however. ¡°Do you think our mage is also the one slinging new potions and spells in the markets?¡± I ask. ¡°It¡¯s doubtful,¡± Elena answers. ¡°Mid-level enchanters and the like may stumble upon the sort of magic our mage is dealing with, but they are very limited in what they can do. That is why we haven¡¯t closed down the market to clear them out entirely.¡± ¡°I¡¯m still trying to understand these different levels of magic,¡± I admit. Carver gestures to Elena and Ulysses to explain it, and I¡¯m grateful she does and doesn¡¯t tell me to drop it. ¡°When one is gifted with magic, it normally manifests at puberty,¡± Ulysses begins. ¡°Sentinels sense when that happens, and they are able to bring them to the Order to teach them how to safely use magic.¡± ¡°The vast majority of those with the Gift will never have the capability of creating a new spell through thought. We teach them they draw magic from elemental realms, that like the Fae who may exist in their space, parallel to the mundane world but separate, the elements of magic are the same. So when they want to use a specific element, these mages believe they are tapping into the realm from which it belongs.¡± I recall Castillo¡¯s response to my explanation of magic and realms. A lie. ¡°Once they have a handle on their magic, we offer to let them join the Order or return to their lives,¡± Ulysses continues. ¡°None the wiser about the source.¡± ¡°What determines the power of a spellcaster?¡± I ask. ¡°How much we are connected to the source,¡± Elena replies. ¡°Some mages are born with a stronger connection to it, and can sense it. So, if I were to focus on that connection,¡± she closes her eyes and the room gets warm. A sort of presence joins us, tangible but not at the same time. ¡°And wish to hold a star upon my hand¡­one with hints of blue, shining gently with a cool light¡­¡± I stare in open amazement as the magic bursts forth. It¡¯s like a miniature sun forms over her palm. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it, the spell is exactly how Elena described her intent. As if her words shifted and became magic. Elena releases the spell and that warm presence fades from the office. ¡°The danger is that if this is the source of magic, then the mage could create literally anything they wanted in Paradise. No limits, because they wouldn¡¯t have to manifest it in the mundane world. They would be in the source,¡± Sheldon joins in. I do notice that Elena looks a touch worn out now, and realize I¡¯m seeing the physical toll that creating a new spell from thought alone takes. ¡°But¡­wouldn¡¯t you know who the mage is then?¡± I ask. ¡°If the Order is the one teaching mages, and Sentinels pinpoint them at the start because of the Gift manifesting¡­how do we not know who¡¯s responsible?¡± ¡°Not all mages come through the Order,¡± Carver sighs. ¡°Some of them escape.¡± I frown inwardly at her choice of words, but considering my current company, I don¡¯t bring it up. It¡¯s something to think about though. ¡°The potential of a mage in this Paradise could change the nature of reality as we know it,¡± Ulysses says, and I¡¯m not certain, but I think he¡¯s trying to steer the conversation away from the whole ¡®escape¡¯ comment. ¡°How so?¡± I ask. ¡°Consider this example,¡± Elena says. ¡°The story of Genesis, in the Bible. God created light and the world with ease. He said the words, and they manifested. A mage like the one we pursue would be able to do something along those lines, shape Creation¡­shape anything, as they wish.¡± ¡°...Fuck,¡± I groan. ¡°Sorry,¡± I add when she winces at the word. ¡°No doubt they are cloaking their potential from us,¡± Carver cuts in. ¡°However, with the vampires helping us, they won¡¯t be able to hide forever. They can sense the Gift in mages, and more importantly, just how gifted a mage is.¡± ¡°There is the matter of how much time is left,¡± Sheldon points out. ¡°I know. Joseph, you will work with the vampires directly, with some of our other Senior Sentinels. Focus your efforts to try and glimpse the mage as much as you can. Elena and Ulysses, you will prepare our enchanters. Should it come to it, it will be up to you to engage this rogue directly.¡± Which means the Centurions would be dealing with the rampaging werewolves, should it come to it. ¡°You¡¯re dismissed, Mr. Averline. Thank you for your service today, consider yourself on call tonight.¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± I reply. Here¡¯s my chance to get back on the Night Shift, it¡¯s too bad I¡¯m coming off of my shift and feeling exhausted. Still, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to settle down to sleep tonight, and I¡¯m already planning to go to the Boston Common and, specifically, to the hidden market. I text Henry as soon as I¡¯m back on the street, and he responds with a thumbs up emoji that tells me he¡¯ll meet me at the Common. I¡¯m not a huge fan of being in Fae territory, they¡¯re tricky and it¡¯s easy to end up in trouble from something as simple as a perceived slip of etiquette. I¡¯ll deal with their roundabout speech and hidden truths, however, because anything is better than what¡¯s coming. Chapter VI: Ambitions of a Broken Heart The Boston Common is the sort of place that I should spend more time in, but never actually do so. It¡¯s a great way to escape the city without having to leave the city and navigate traffic. The Common is still open, which means there¡¯s more people milling about the paths than I would have liked, but it¡¯s the only way into the market that I know about. I enter on the Boylston side, making my way to the old statue of Thomas Cass where the hidden doorway is cleverly installed. It doesn¡¯t lead fully to the Fae Realm, the market is at a crossroads where their realm and ours overlaps, but that¡¯s a good thing. I¡¯d have to leave Henry behind if we were going to one of the Courts, they don¡¯t take kindly to vampires. Or Centurions for that matter. The statue is lit in such a way that it reminds me of a child trying to be spooky, holding a flashlight under their face to accentuate odd shadows. I frown at it as I approach, then I notice two figures hovering nearby and immediately tense. ¡°Calm down, kid,¡± Billy says as he steps forward. ¡°It¡¯s just me and Henry.¡± ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I ask him. ¡°I bumped into Henry at the station and while we were catching up on things, you texted him about meeting,¡± Billy replies with a smile. ¡°You¡¯re not just coming with us to score are you?¡± ¡°Wow, that¡¯s great. Thanks for that,¡± to his credit, Billy does sound like he¡¯s actually insulted, but I know him well enough by now not to fall for it. He waits for me to apologize and when I don¡¯t, he shrugs. ¡°I mean, I am going to help you down there, but yes, I¡¯m also replenishing my Whiteworm.¡± ¡°Your¡­what?¡± Henry asks. ¡°Whiteworm Amanita, my young fanged friend. It¡¯s Fae Shrooms¡­basically, but it helps trigger clearer visions and since the whole of Boston may be overrun with werewolves soon, I thought it was a good idea to get whatever help we could before that happens.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I reply, moving closer to the statue so I can find the concealed door. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re just beside yourself having to make such a sacrifice.¡± ¡°I will weep endlessly tonight, lamenting my fate.¡± I roll my eyes and stop behind the statue, lowering to my haunches to place my palm against what looks like idle scratches and scuff marks made from the passage of time, but is actually an incantation. Sheldon teaches the Centurions this particular incantation. We¡¯re not really supposed to go to the market for pleasure or window shopping, but if we¡¯re pursuing an adversary and they try to run here knowing we can¡¯t follow, then we¡¯d be stuck twiddling our thumbs waiting for them to emerge again. And who knew how many other exits there were down there? I whisper the incantation, which sounds like a mix of old Gaelic and the wind through the leaves. There¡¯s a clicking sound within the statue¡¯s base and then the cobblestones next to me draw back and reveal a stairway leading underground. ¡°Hurry, it doesn¡¯t stay open for long,¡± I say, more for Henry¡¯s sake as I¡¯m sure Billy is far better acquainted with this place than I am. The three of us descend the stone steps and get swallowed by darkness. That darkness only increases when the door slides back shut above us and clicks into place, and yet a moment after this, torches burst into light along the spiraling passageway. I resume descending the stairs once I don¡¯t have to worry about tripping over myself. At the bottom is a stone wall with an arched opening that leads into the market proper. The three of us pass the threshold and take in the sight. I¡¯ve been here two or three times, so it¡¯s still a wonder for me. Billy looks unimpressed in the way familiarity tends to dampen awe. Henry is standing there with wide eyes and his lips parted, gaping at the market stretched out before us. I can¡¯t blame him, it¡¯s pretty overwhelming the first time. It¡¯s not that far underground. In fact, it¡¯s the same depth as the subway but exists in a parallel plane to it. If I were to dig a hole in the Common in an attempt to reach the market, I never would. Only the stairs lead to the crossroad. The depth is about the only thing that is in common with the mundane world, however. There¡¯s wooden buildings jutting out of the stone walls, curved and oddly angled to remain flush against unpredictable stone. The shops are stacked one atop the other, with wooden staircases built into the side of the buildings leading to the upper level shops. The cavern that holds the whole market opens up deeper further in, and I can see wooden bridges that span the chasm, and far in the distance a great gear-shaped watermill. To our left is an enormous boulder, which has been chiseled out and opened up on the inside to allow space for a bar within. Lanterns line the cobblestone streets that lead to the depths of the market, their light shifting from yellow, to green, to blue and back in intermittent intervals. Brightly colored banners are everywhere, so I guess that¡¯s another similarity with the mundane¡¯s space - advertisements. The layout isn¡¯t the only thing to draw the eye, of course. There¡¯s the denizens of the market. Fairies flit about, rivaling the light of the lanterns and, in some cases, blowing out those lights when they were deemed brighter than their own. Then there¡¯s the Fae, tall and willowy and with no need to Glamor their appearance, thus walking around in all their pointy-eared, greenish skin and strange-eyed wonder. Their eyes are shaped like a human¡¯s, but they angle upwards and they¡¯re too long. The whites are more gray, and their irises resemble the eyes of an owl. There¡¯s also Elves in the market, also tall and willowy but they look more like I do, except for the ears of course, which are closer to their Fae kin. There¡¯s also an ogre shambling over to the stone bar, and following in her wake is a host of brownies and goblins having a heated discussion. One of the goblins pauses at a street vendor who I¡¯m pretty sure is a hag, sniffing at the jars of viscera for sale on the rickety table. I could stare at them all day, I could marvel at the amount of the extraordinary that exists in our world everyday, unknown to almost all of the mundane, but I¡¯m here for a reason and I need to follow that reason now. I snap out of my reverie and focus my gaze on Billy and Henry instead. ¡°Alright, so we¡¯re looking for Castillo¡¯s sources. Chances are, they aren¡¯t just going to say they¡¯re his sources.¡± ¡°Only if they have a death wish,¡± Billy quips. ¡°Right. But there¡¯s been enough killings that it won¡¯t be suspicious if others start asking about it,¡± I continue. ¡°Like vampires,¡± I add after a beat. Henry lofts an eyebrow and I clear my throat. ¡°There¡¯s a vampire bar down main street¡­if I remember correctly.¡± ¡°And you want me to lead the questioning?¡± Henry asks. ¡°They¡¯ll peg me and Billy as Cerberus the second we walk in there,¡± I point out. ¡°So chances are they won¡¯t want to talk to us.¡± Henry sighs. ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll handle the vampire bar.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°Get yourself a drink while you¡¯re there,¡± Billy suggests. ¡°I hear they can do shit with blood that makes us non blood drinkers envious.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve tried some, haven¡¯t you?¡± I ask. ¡°I was sick as a dog afterwards, but fuck was it good,¡± Billy admits with a shake of his head. I decide not to ask if he at least made sure it wasn¡¯t human blood, thus avoiding the conversation of whether he was a mild cannibal or not, and smile at Henry. ¡°You got this,¡± I tell him. ¡°You¡¯re more effective than most of the Centurions.¡± ¡°Maybe that¡¯s why they want to leave me out in the sun,¡± Henry retorts. ¡°Should we meet back here?¡± ¡°Yes, let¡¯s say in two hours,¡± I also decide not to have the conversation about my murderous coworkers and their prejudice against all vampires. ¡°I¡¯ll walk with you to the vampire bar, then I¡¯ll go to the Archives. They like showing off everything they know there, maybe one of them knows something about this case.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be at the Silver Crescent,¡± Billy adds. ¡°I have some contacts there that I can ask without stirring any trouble. You two try to stay out of trouble too. As the Senior operative here, that will fall back on me if you do.¡± ¡°Your selfless leadership is an aspiration,¡± I reply, to which Billy grins, gives us a little wave, and walks merrily into the market. ¡°Come on,¡± I say to Henry, heading down the wide, main street. There¡¯s street vendors haggling their wares in any spot that doesn¡¯t have an actual shop entrance blocking the way. Behind the vendors, I can see seedy dealings going on in the alleyways and now and then, one of the beings we pass looks at me sharply and hurries off. The Order is made up of humans, but there¡¯s still an element of Otherness to us after we pass the initiation. Not every creature can sense it, but some do. The ones scowling at me, namely, because they¡¯ll assume I¡¯m here to arrest someone. ¡°I can¡¯t believe this has been under Boston all along,¡± Henry murmurs. ¡°Technically it¡¯s not under the Boston you know,¡± I reply. ¡°We¡¯re at a crossroad, where our world and the Fae realm overlaps. Not quite in one or the other, but a little bit of both. Although, the Fae¡¯s rules of etiquette apply, hence the clusterfuck of all these different species and no violence whatsoever.¡± ¡°Have you ever been to the Fae realm?¡± Henry asks. ¡°No. I don¡¯t think anyone from the Order has, and I don¡¯t think any of us will ever be invited.¡± He nods thoughtfully, then resumes looking around like the most obvious tourist. We continue down the main road, which curves slightly with the layout of the cavernous space. Overhead, shimmering stalactites seem to mimic the stars of a night sky, casting an ethereal glow to this part of the underground. Near the end of the main street, which splits into two directions, is an unblocked alleyway. It¡¯s larger than most and here is where I stop. There¡¯s an open, gothic gate at the mouth of the alley and further back is a steepled, narrow building that looks like it would serve nicely as a Dracula set. Sanguine Sweet does nothing to hide the fact it¡¯s a vampire hangout, and why not? Vampires may be met with general suspicion from most, but they are still welcome in this space. Most of them are quite wealthy and flood the market with money after all. ¡°Here¡¯s where we part ways,¡± I say, looking Henry over again. He¡¯s wearing jeans, a plain white, V-neck T-Shirt and a black blazer over it. I know from experience that most of the vampires in the bar are going to be decked out in full Victorian garb or a lot of leather, meaning Henry is going to stick out like a sore thumb. I would¡¯ve warned him to dress the part, but I doubt he has either choice in his wardrobe. ¡°Good luck, don¡¯t draw too much attention to yourself.¡± ¡°Why do I get the feeling I¡¯m not going to be successful at that?¡± Henry asks, as he must have picked up the misgivings I¡¯m feeling from my expression. ¡°Use that angle? Sweet and innocent?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a fledgling vampire, not a virgin.¡± ¡°I¡¯m the last person you have to tell,¡± I remind him. ¡°Just¡­be careful, okay? That¡¯s all I¡¯m asking.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon.¡± I nod and watch him as he goes towards the bar. I half expect him to pause before going inside, but he doesn¡¯t. When he¡¯s not immediately kicked out, I resume and take the road to the eastern end of the market. I take the east road all the way to its end, which brings me to the entrance of the Archives. It resembles a church in design, one of the great cathedrals you¡¯d see in Europe and surprisingly, doesn¡¯t look out of place underground. It¡¯s not a shop like the rest of the buildings, although I have heard for the right price you can purchase some of the old records. That sort of thing is reserved for smugglers and those trying to bring in illicit materials though, and generally not discussed in polite company. Inside, the whole cathedral vibe continues with the arched ceilings with painted frescoes. Only they aren¡¯t angels looking down on the faithful, but rather depictions of ancient races that no longer exist in any realm. Dragons, pegasus and unicorns, even ancient deities once worshiped by humanity until science gained their favor. Instead of a church nave lined with pews, however, there are rows and rows of bookshelves. A gentle hum resonates throughout the large space, and I think it¡¯s coming from the texts and tomes. The amount of power here is alarming, but there¡¯s a lot of various guards standing around that ensure no one rushes in trying to steal it. The nearest guard is a Fomorian, towering over me and watching with bulging yellow eyes. I walk past the creature and look around for some idea of where to start in this colossal depository of knowledge. ¡°Can I help you?¡± Maybe there are angels here¡­I turn to my left to see a Fae woman standing there, arms laden with scrolls that look like they¡¯ll crumble to dust if she breathes on them too hard. Her skin carries a purplish hue instead of green, her ash blonde hair shimmers a bit like a halo from the candelabra behind her. It could be the shadows, but I think the whites of her eyes are black rather than gray, and her ears are longer than the typical Fae. She may be a Knight from one of the Courts¡­or a former Knight as I can¡¯t imagine she would work here if she maintained her title. ¡°I¡¯m seeking information,¡± I reply. ¡°And if I don¡¯t find it, it¡¯s going to be bad for everyone.¡± I don¡¯t need to clarify that I mean everyone in the market as well as the mundane world. She looks at me suspiciously all the same, but that¡¯s on par for a Centurion in the market and I¡¯m sure she knows what I am. For a second, I think she¡¯s going to ask me to leave, and while I could protest, it¡¯s probably the worst thing I could do. I¡¯m dealing with too much already to add an incident with the Archivists to the list. Then her expression softens, and she looks as if she¡¯s listening to something I can¡¯t hear. When she refocuses on me, she looks at me as if I¡¯ve done something to offend her. ¡°Come with me,¡± she finally says with a dignified sniff, her head held high as she leads me further into the Archive. She reaches a door that leads down to a sublevel, and it¡¯s unexpectedly warm down here where I was bracing for it to be cold. It¡¯s reminiscent of a dungeon¡­but a renovated dungeon. A comfortable dungeon? They¡¯ve done a good job of mostly hiding its previous function at least. There¡¯s more shelves here, as well as an assortment of chests that I assume are holding even more books and scrolls. The Archivist leads me to the end of the dungeon hall, which opens up to a large cavern. The ground drops sharply about 20 feet ahead, I can see the great chasm swallow the light from the nearby torches. More interesting than that is the figure who has set up some sort of lounging space too near the lip of the chasm. Great rugs are spread on the stone floor, a decadent chaise lounge with several pillows makes me think this is the figure¡¯s place of rest as well as place of work. There are chests here, and a couple of bookcases that look odd standing freely rather than set against a wall. Instead of just books there are an assortment of items, some I recognize as talismans and conduits for magic, others I have no idea about. The figure seated in a squishy looking armchair by one of the slender candelabras is striking. She has rich brown hair with streaks of red, orange and gold combed throughout. Most of it is tied into an intricate braid, the thickness of which speaks to the length of her hair. She is beautiful too, in an otherworldly way I can¡¯t quite describe accurately. Her skin is a soft, golden brown, her eyes are almond-shaped and a brilliant amber. Vibrant in a preternatural way. Freckles dust across her face, from one cheekbone, over the bridge of her nose, to the other cheekbone, both of which are prominent. She has a strong jawline that¡¯s quite masculine, more so because of her slender neck. The Fae Archivist approaches the other woman. ¡°As you requested,¡± she says, making me look between them in confusion. I can only assume this woman conveyed a summons to the Fae. The woman nods and stands up from her seat. She wears a flowing dress in hues of blue, long enough that its skirt dusts the floor. The Fae, having done her job, retreats and leaves me with the woman. Stolen novel; please report. ¡°My name is Riley Averline,¡± I begin. ¡°I¡¯m a Centurion with the Order of Cerberus.¡± ¡°I am Vasilisa, Head Archivist. I assume you are here on business, Centurion.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I reply. ¡°I wanted to ask if there¡¯s been any sales for spells or incantations to wildly boost magic power, one that likely requires blood to perform it. More importantly, who¡¯s been dealing with that sort of thing, or information regarding it.¡± I don¡¯t know everything the Archive keeps track of. Sheldon taught us that the Archivists hold all the records of deals in the market, to ensure no one could cry wolf about fraud or whatnot, and because there¡¯s a lot of powerful artifacts being traded that need an official paper trail and documentation in the event of their misuse. Additionally, new products, whether they be spells, artifacts, or ingredients, must be inspected and approved by the Archivists before being sold. There¡¯s a lot more regulation in the market than I would have expected, of course, even with their strict regulations there¡¯s still black market dealing going on. ¡°How vaguely specific,¡± the woman hums. There¡¯s a knowing look to her eyes, and now that she¡¯s closer, I see her pupils are slits. Like a snake¡¯s. ¡°This inquiry¡­might it have to do with opening a certain door?¡± I feel my heart quicken, my shoulders tensing somewhat as that knowing look extends to a clever smile. She knows. She must, but¡­I think about Carver and continue dodging the obvious. ¡°Yes. A door that shouldn¡¯t be open to anyone, because if someone did, it could be catastrophic for the rest of us.¡± Vasilisa chuckles. ¡°You do not need to be so melodramatic, Centurion. I know of what you speak, I know of the consequences we may all bear from the actions of one. Paradise is only paradise while it remains untouched by such selfish ambition¡­I know that from personal experience.¡± My interest is piqued. ¡°Personal experience?¡± ¡°I tried to open the way a long, long time ago.¡± ¡°What?!¡± ¡°Pain drove me to find the way,¡± Vasilisa continues. ¡°They, the humans of that time, killed my mate.¡± It¡¯s enough to tell me she isn¡¯t human, but I surmised as much anyway given her position here. It leaves me wondering what she is, until she nods somewhat discreetly to the nearest wall of the cavern. I do a double take as I look where she indicates as I see her shadow there. It is not of a woman, it¡¯s a hulking, gargantuan form. One that shouldn¡¯t be here, or anywhere. Her shadow is that of a dragon. ¡°Wh¡­but I thought?¡± ¡°I am the last,¡± she says sadly. ¡°My revenge made it so.¡± ¡°What happened?¡± Vasilisa gathers her thoughts, amber eyes unfocused on a spot above us. ¡°Do you know of Toba?¡± she asks, looking at me again, and when I shake my head ¡®no¡¯ she resumes. ¡°It is a volcano in Indonesia. It erupted far before your time, in what the mundanes would record as 70,000 B.C.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­yeah that would be far before me,¡± I say somewhat breathlessly. ¡°It was the direct result of my trying to force my way into Paradise, to the True Source of magic. After they killed my mate, I wanted to hurt them in a way they would never recover. I could feel it, the connection to the source, and I followed that feeling. I carved my way through blood and fire, and when I thought I amassed enough power to open the way, I tried to tear through the veil to get to it. I was not strong enough, and the reaction caused the volcano to erupt.¡± ¡°But how did that¡­kill the rest of your kind?¡± ¡°It killed much¡­Never has there been an eruption like it¡­Smoke eclipsed the world, the very sun was dimmed for over six years. And while the dragons had no qualms with the smoke-filled skies, our food source did. As it died out, so did we.¡± I let this sink in for a moment, trying to imagine that but knowing even the most vivid thought would not match reality. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re telling me all this,¡± I admit. ¡°Will you arrest me for it now, Centurion?¡± Vasilisa asks with a wry smile. ¡°I tell you this because Paradise must remain closed. It is not for any one person¡¯s use, no matter what their motivation may be. I tell you because even if this person fails to open the way, the results will be devastating should they even make the attempt. The Source responds harshly to threats of the unworthy.¡± ¡°In which case, I hope you¡¯ll help me. I have no idea who¡¯s behind this, and we¡¯re running out of time.¡± Vasilisa considers me and then turns to one of the bookcases. I think she¡¯ll take a book down that will give me all the answers, but she doesn¡¯t. Instead she picks up a small statuette of two figures entwined with one another. ¡°There were lovers who were certain they would spend their lives together,¡± she began. ¡°The world would say they were not meant to be, yet joy was theirs when they ignored others¡¯ pleas, and came together as one.¡± I frown, wishing this didn¡¯t sound so familiar to me. My parents didn¡¯t want me to marry Henry, he didn¡¯t live up to their expectations of my finding a wealthy suitor. My mother went so far as to say she¡¯d disinherit me if I didn¡¯t send him off, but I married him anyway, and we were happy. ¡°And in time¡­they learned they would be three,¡± Vasilisa continues. ¡°Yet fate determined this not meant to be, and she, born of their love, was lost. After that the joy faded, and the bond between lovers was broken. They left the path they traversed together, each choosing one anew. One of sorrow and anger, one of obsession and guilt.¡± I feel the hot sting of tears in my eyes as I glare at her. ¡°Stop it,¡± I growl. Vasilisa looks at me with an indiscernible expression. ¡°How do you know all that?¡± She tilts her head and has the gall to look innocent after digging through my worst pain. ¡°How the beats of time repeat, cyclical parallels¡­¡± Vasilisa says in a way that sounds thoughtful and utterly calm. Meanwhile I feel like I can¡¯t breathe, like the cavern collapsed and I¡¯m trapped under stone. My chest is tight, my throat is closing and I turn my back on Vasilisa and storm out the way I came. I hardly notice where I¡¯m going, although my feet have enough sense to trace the pathways back to the exit of the Archives. I step out into the market, awash in the never-ending sounds of business, laughter, and haggling. I try to chase away the images in my head, but they come relentlessly. It¡¯s the wedding and I don¡¯t feel as happy as a bride should in my dress. It¡¯s beautiful, but it¡¯s not me. I always felt like I was playing dress up when I looked especially feminine. I don¡¯t know the reason for this yet, so I chalk it up to cold feet. I¡¯m at the altar and Henry looks so handsome in his tux and his usually disarrayed hair combed neatly back. There¡¯s the faintest look of surprise on his face when I say ¡°I do¡± as if he expected me to decline instead. We kiss, my discomfort is forgotten in the wake of our happiness as we spend the rest of the night dancing and basking in each other¡¯s love. I wish I could just keep those memories playing, but I know I can¡¯t and I stagger into an alleyway when the dread follows. It¡¯s two years after the wedding, and I¡¯m pregnant and like with the dress, it feels wrong. I am certain I¡¯m not supposed to be pregnant. I¡¯m not supposed to be a mother and I feel so uncomfortable in my skin that I want to claw out of it and into something else. Henry is patient and as understanding as he could be when I share these thoughts with him, but I can tell it takes a toll on him to see me so unhappy at what should be a delight. Even this would be enough to bear, but it¡¯s the memory of the birth that has me drop to my knees in the alley. No intake of breath. No wail. Nothing. Just silence. Doctors rush around, trying to revive the little baby girl, our baby girl. But she¡¯s gone, and I know it¡¯s my fault. I know that the sense of wrongness of it that plagued me throughout must have affected her, like poison. The onslaught of these horrible memories freezes on Henry¡¯s devastated face when he realizes our daughter will never draw a breath. ?????¡ã???¡ã????? I don¡¯t know how long I sat in that alley, dazed and unseeing. I only come to when I hear the sound of several pairs of feet coming to a stop. Finally tearing my eyes from the wall, I look at the mouth of the alley expecting Billy and Henry, but find three strangers there instead. They don¡¯t set my pendant off, so they must be human - it¡¯s rare for mundane to walk the market, but not entirely unheard of, some of the supernatural sort employ them to be their proxies in less fantastical settings. I guess I must be a sight, hunkered here in an alleyway, because they might as well be gawking. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I say gruffly, thinking they mean to try and help, but I don¡¯t want to deal with anyone right now. ¡°You won¡¯t be for long, Centurion,¡± one of the strangers says through a sneer. Even in my anguish, my training kicks in and I¡¯m immediately on alert, rising to my feet and squaring off against them. ¡°You know, starting shit in the market is a good way to get yourself killed.¡± ¡°No one will miss one of your lot,¡± the second stranger says. ¡°What the hell did I ever do to you anyway?¡± I ask. ¡°It¡¯s obvious why one of you would be here! You¡¯re working for that lunatic!¡± ¡°Lunatic?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb. Your Saint Hypocrite may be locked away like a princess in a tower, but we¡¯ll succeed in the end!¡± My blood thunders in my ears at the implications of his threats. If I play this just right, I¡¯ll be able to get a name. ¡°This whole shake down might go better if I knew what you¡¯re talking about.¡± ¡°This ain¡¯t a shake down, it¡¯s justice!¡± the last stranger snaps as he draws a dagger. I¡¯m still armed from my outing earlier to Southie, which feels like it happened another lifetime ago. As the dagger-wielding man charges, I draw my gun and let instincts kick in and squeeze the trigger. His knee erupts in a mist of blood and with a pained yelp he falls face first to the ground. His companions don¡¯t take it as a learning opportunity, and instead they move to attack. The first one who spoke is fast, faster than I am, and seems to move in a blur to get behind me. He manages to get a lock on my arm, preventing me from training the gun at the other assailant. I lean forward a bit then whip my head back to smash it into the face of the man behind me. He staggers, but manages to maintain a grip on my arm. It¡¯s alright though, because I have enough room now to kick at the other, my foot connecting with his groin in a loud crunch. He too falls and I break free of the last and turn to face him. Blood is pouring out of his nose and one of his eyes is swelling already. Unfortunately, he¡¯s aiming a gun at my face and wouldn¡¯t need clear vision to hit his mark at this range. I¡¯m about to offer a truce, but his finger tightens on the trigger. A gunshot echoes loudly and I start, waiting for dark oblivion, only to hear a body thud. It¡¯s the last assailant, a halo of blood pooling around his head, where he¡¯s been shot in violent irony. I look around and see Billy, holding a gun and looking flushed as if he¡¯d run here from afar, and realize that¡¯s probably the truth. ¡°Vision?¡± I ask dully, still reeling from my talk with an actual dragon. ¡°Vision,¡± he confirms. There¡¯s still two of them left that we can bring to headquarters to get answers out of. The one I kicked is getting back to his feet, his face red. I see him going for the gun strapped to his belt and aim mine at him. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I warn. ¡°Fuck you!¡± he spits, and grabs it. I shoot and watch the bullet smash into his neck, pass through it, and form a hole in the wall of the alley. I hope it didn¡¯t get past the brick and into the shop. The man gurgles and claws at his neck, and I watch red seep between his fingers before he falls, twitching a few times, before going still. One left. At least he isn¡¯t able to get back to his feet considering his knee¡¯s been shot out. ¡°Who are they?¡± Billy asks. ¡°Your vision didn¡¯t tell you?¡± ¡°Would I ask if it did, kid? ¡­Are you okay?¡± ¡°No, but I don¡¯t want to get into it. We need to get this asshole back to HQ. I think he knows who our killer is.¡± ¡°Fuck me, that would be amazing if he does,¡± Billy steps over to the groaning man and smiles brightly at him. ¡°Alright sport, you cooperate and we¡¯ll see about fixing up that knee.¡± ¡°Go¡­to¡­hell!¡± ¡°I¡¯ll blame that on the pain,¡± Billy says. ¡°I¡¯ll call this in, Riley. And¡­uh, deal with the crowd,¡± because people are coming out of nearby shops to inspect the commotion by now. ¡°You go meet up with Henry and see if he¡¯s learned anything.¡± I¡¯m a mess, feeling grateful that Billy won¡¯t leave me to try and appease the various denizens of the market in my current mood, but dreading the moment I have to look at Henry while everything is so fresh in my mind. I can¡¯t just ditch him at Sanguine Sweet, so I¡¯ll have to suck it up anyway. Checking my phone before I reach the vampire bar tells me it¡¯s just about time to meet back at the start of the market, sparing me needing to deal with trying to get in there. I shuffle back up main street, barely paying attention to the other shoppers or their whispering. Eventually, I see the stone archway that leads to the stairs to return to the Common, and sure enough Henry is nearby waiting for me and Billy. ¡°Billy isn¡¯t joining us,¡± I say bluntly when I reach him, and briefly explain getting attacked. ¡°You¡¯re not hurt, are you?¡± Henry asks. ¡°No.¡± ¡°But you are not okay.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, did you learn anything?¡± ¡°Riley.¡± I don¡¯t meet his gaze, resolutely staring anywhere else. ¡°Talk to me, please.¡± ¡°Not¡­here,¡± I finally concede. ¡°Let¡¯s get back.¡± Henry agrees and together we leave the market behind and ascend the spiral stairs. At the top, I feel around for the marked incantation and once again murmur it. The hidden door slides out of the way and we both move with haste to reach flat ground again. When the door clicks back into place, there¡¯s no sign of it whatsoever, leaving us once again in the mundane world. The Boston Common is closed now, leaving it quiet. No one is really supposed to linger after hours, but that doesn¡¯t stop me from sitting on a nearby bench. ¡°When I went to the Archives, I met the head of the facility¡­¡± I begin, still refusing to look at him. I¡¯m hunching over my knees, eyes downcast. I tell him about what Vasilisa told me, first about her attempt to reach Paradise, and then the story she told that was too much like our story and the torrent of memories that broke my heart anew. ¡°I don¡¯t know if she was just fucking with me¡­¡± I conclude. ¡°Either way, I failed there too.¡± ¡°What do you mean, failed there too?¡± Henry asks after a heavy silence. ¡°Come on,¡± I laugh humorlessly. ¡°From the start of it I knew it was wrong, that it wasn¡¯t me. How did she ever have a chance when I was such a fucking mess? All that negativity¡­all that doubt, wishing I was barren because it made me so fucking depressed being pregnant.¡± ¡°Riley,¡± Henry¡¯s voice tells me he¡¯s going to try and make an excuse for me, and now I look at him with tears in my eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I snap. ¡°You remember too, I know you do. You remember those nights I said I wish I wasn¡¯t, that we couldn¡¯t. And then she¡¯s stillborn? It doesn¡¯t feel like a goddamn coincidence!¡± He looks at me in a mixture of hurt and surprise and I scoff cruelly. ¡°But hey, at least that was enough for me to realize that the deal was, right? About why my whole life felt so fucking wrong. Good thing it only took losing our baby and our marriage to open my fucking eyes to the fact I was meant to be a man. I mean, the odds were already stacked against us after we lost Amelia, I just came in like a bulldozer with that confession and made sure we were fucked.¡± ¡°Stop,¡± Henry says firmly. There¡¯s a level of anger in his voice I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard before. Enough so that my deluge of desolation is interrupted. ¡°You can¡¯t put this all on yourself. What happened was a tragedy, but it was not your fault, Riley. It was not punishment for your doubt as you attempted to find yourself, nor did our divorce have anything to do with you coming out. With that, I was only sorry I didn¡¯t recognize the reason for your pain earlier, for your sense of discomfort that you never hid as well as you thought you did. But for us? There was¡­too much pain and anger over Amelia, and we were drowning each other in all our misery.¡± ¡°Just once I wish you could be what I wanted and tell me it was me,¡± I groan, exasperation settling in with my anger as I stand up and pace irately. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you stand being around me.¡± ¡°I will always care about you, Riley,¡± Henry says. ¡° So I will always be what you need, not just what you want. Even if you hate me for it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t hate you, Henry,¡± I sigh. ¡°I just hate what happened to us, and as much as you say it¡¯s not on me, I still feel like it is.¡± ¡°Then stop burying yourself in work so much that you have no time to work on yourself. Get help, Riley. It¡¯s not a sign of weakness.¡± I shake my head, having no desire to relive this trauma with a psychologist. He¡¯s right, I know he is, but being too busy with work has been mostly effective so far. ¡°Fine,¡± I say, because I¡¯m suddenly exhausted and I can¡¯t bear to talk about this anymore. The look Henry gives me tells me he doesn¡¯t buy my bullshit committal at all. ¡°Did you find anything out at the bar?¡± ¡°So that¡¯s it?¡± he asks. ¡°We¡¯re done talking about it?¡± ¡°Yes we¡¯re done talking about it!¡± I shout. ¡°Or did you forget about the very real threat hanging over the entire city?¡± He withdraws into himself. It happens sometimes, usually when I snap at him like this, like he¡¯s mentally distancing himself. ¡°Nothing substantial,¡± he replies stiffly. ¡°The blood was likely collected with a specific double needle, gauged large enough to be mistaken as vampire fangs. Not hard to make with the right material and know-how. Not significant enough that anyone remembers someone asking around for one. No word about any sources tied to Castillo.¡± ¡°So, just more evidence vampires were never involved,¡± I mutter. ¡°I¡¯m going to head back to the office.¡± ¡°You should get some sleep¡­¡± ¡°Again, werewolf threat.¡± ¡°Which you¡¯ll be no good against if you¡¯re dead on your feet.¡± ¡°You do just fine.¡± He frowns at me and evidently I¡¯ve pushed too much. Without another word, Henry gets up from the bench and seems to melt away into the shadows. I rub at my face and try to collect myself, feeling raw and sensitive. I need to focus on something else, anything else, so I force my mind back to the confrontation with the three men in the market. Saint Hypocrite, locked away in a tower. They were so sure that I was in league with the killer and I feel like I¡¯ve been kicked in the chest when I realize the tower has to be headquarters. That¡¯s the reason for their certainty of my involvement, because I¡¯m also part of the Order. I think of our Enchanters, I think about being in Carver¡¯s office and Elena demonstrating the magic our rogue mage would need in order to pull off the spell. I think about her leading a group in prayer, perhaps the reason for the ¡®saint¡¯ moniker. I¡¯m still exhausted, but I¡¯m sufficiently distracted from my personal shit and sprint through the Boston Common in the direction of Beacon Street and headquarters. Chapter VII: Red of Rage, Red of Blood I am gripped by that red, red rage, the same that seized me after her loss. I am drowning in that deep, pitiless darkness that consumed me so entirely for so very long. I focus it on a singular point, I focus it on Elena and my certainty that she is the one attempting to open the way to Paradise and the True Source. This singular focus does not care about tactics or cleverness, this singular focus demands swift retribution. So I find myself storming into the elevator and punching in the button for the 10th floor, where the Senior Enchanters have their offices. I have no plan, I only have that red rage and pitiless darkness behind me. The elevator pings and I¡¯m departing it before the doors fully open. I don¡¯t know where Elena¡¯s office even is, but the layout is the same as the Centurion one where I work. At this hour, many of the Enchanters are working diligently, likely on this very case - not knowing one of their own is pulling the strings. They look up askance when I peer into the offices seeking my quarry, quizzical both by my presence here and undoubtedly sensing my fury as a tangible thing. ¡°Centurion?¡± Ulysses asks when I reach the office at the end. I see a beautifully crafted, golden cross set on the desk across from him and make my assumptions. ¡°Where is she?¡± I demand. Ulysses frowns, and stands up from his desk with a stern look crossing his face. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± ¡°Elena! Where is she?!¡± ¡°You will remember yourself, Centurion!¡± ¡°It¡¯s her! She¡¯s behind all of it!¡± ¡°Excuse me?¡± Elena¡¯s voice comes from behind me and I turn on my heel to see her standing there with a fresh cup of coffee in her hand. ¡°I know! Don¡¯t try to deny it!¡± By now, all the Senior Enchanters present are gathering in the hall outside their offices. Elena has the gall to look hurt by my accusation, but then that¡¯s one reason she¡¯s avoided suspicion so far. She¡¯s always carried herself as an innocent, a paragon of virtue. She even looks the part; flowing blonde hair, large blue eyes, a dainty nose and rosy lips. She dresses conservatively, all she¡¯s missing is the fucking halo above her head. ¡°Centurion!¡± Ulysses snaps. ¡°That is enough!¡± ¡°I was just attacked in the Fae market by those who assumed I was working with Saint Hypocrite, who¡¯s been hiding in her tower!¡± I snarl. ¡°Attacked because I¡¯m part of the Order. She,¡± I point angrily at Elena who takes a step back from me. ¡°Just demonstrated she has the power to create by manifesting her ideas into magic from the True Source!¡± ¡°Centurion Averline!¡± Carver¡¯s voice drowns out the murmuring from the Enchanters. ¡°I¡¯m right!¡± I shout at her as she marches down the corridor towards us. ¡°Tell Billy to bring the man who attacked me here! Let him see her and confirm it! Better yet, find a vampire! You said yourself one would be able to sense our mage!¡± ¡°Elena was with me when we approached the Moliere Coven!¡± Ulysses growls. ¡°If you think a vampire as old as Charlemagne would have missed any hidden power, then you are more delusional than I would ever have thought!¡± ¡°Ask my assailant!¡± I continue without missing a beat. ¡°Ask him!!¡± ¡°SILENCE!¡± Carver¡¯s voice is so loud it makes everyone in the vicinity wince. She comes up to me, grabs me by the upper arm and proceeds to drag me down the hall back towards the elevator as though dealing with a recalcitrant child. ¡°Get things settled here, Ulysses!¡± Carver shouts without looking back, shoving me into the elevator and getting in after me. ¡°Carver!¡± ¡°Shut up, Averline.¡± She hits the button for the top floor, and her bristling and my anger makes me grateful, in the back of my mind, that there¡¯s only one floor between us and her office. The tension is suffocating, and I know I should be scared because judging by her face, I¡¯ve not only crossed the line, I leapt over it, but I can¡¯t muster up the energy to be. It¡¯s all spoken for already. I feel like I¡¯m going to burst out of my skin as we walk down the hall and enter her office. Carver closes the door with enough force that it sounds like a gunshot, then points to one of the hardback, simple chairs set in front of her desk. ¡°Sit down!¡± I do so, but I¡¯m tense, arms folded in defiance and glaring at her as she takes her seat behind the desk, glaring right back at me. ¡°What the hell was that, Centurion?¡± ¡°It all makes sense! It has to be her, she¡¯s the one! I went to the market, and I was attacked¡­Billy is bringing in the culprit, the surviving one. They said that I was working with the mage we¡¯re hunting and the only reason they accused me of this is because I¡¯m part of Cerberus! The mage is one of us! And they referred to her as Saint Hypocrite¡­which of our other Enchanters is so openly religious?¡± Carver shakes her head. ¡°You think none of us would have sensed it?¡± ¡°You saw her demonstrate that magic earlier today!¡± ¡°Averline, that small amount of magic winded her, I know that you noticed, it was impossible not to. That isn¡¯t nearly enough to open Paradise! None of the vampires in the Moliere Coven sensed anything different about her either.¡± ¡°Then¡­then she¡¯s hiding her true power somehow!¡± ¡°In a way both me and Sentinel Sheldon missed?¡± ¡°What, because you¡¯re infallible?¡± Carver¡¯s thin lips purse into a smaller line. ¡°You forget yourself, Centurion.¡± ¡°Just because the truth isn¡¯t something you want to hear, doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ve ¡®forgotten¡¯ myself!¡± She holds up a hand, which I want to ignore and continue hammering away on my point, but I manage to stem the flow of accusations that try to pour out of me. ¡°You come to headquarters, interrupting our Senior Enchanters while they¡¯re working the mission, hurl accusations at one of our best on the vague word of some hired thug in the Fae market, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. You take the word of this thug over the testament of Enchanters Ulysses, Elena and over my judgment? Think about that, Averline.¡± I try to, but I can¡¯t. I¡¯m still running on adrenaline and emotion. ¡°You won¡¯t even investigate at all?¡± ¡°And encourage further nonsense? Shall we entice a witch hunt, set a precedent for any grudge between our members to accuse another of such an offense whenever they wish?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not fair,¡± I growl. ¡°I¡¯m not accusing Elena because of any grudge, I had nothing against her until tonight.¡± ¡°Until the unknown thug told you to condemn her.¡± ¡°But¡­how did he know about her?¡± ¡°Did he ever say her name? Describe her at all outside your fixation with the term ¡®saint hypocrite¡¯? Did you not stop to think that the true villain sent these thugs for this reason? To sow discord in our ranks and keep us busy pointing fingers at one another while they conduct their foul plot?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t,¡± Carver cuts me off. ¡°Or else you would have come to me first instead of barging into their office.¡± Silence falls over us, but it is as far away from comfortable as could be. Carver regards me, and I know she¡¯s determining my fate. I know I should care more about what she decides, but all I can focus on is my wish, my need, for her to agree to investigate Elena. So that something about tonight was good, to offset the horrible ache reintroduced to my heart and soul. ¡°I¡¯m suspending you,¡± Carver says with finality. ¡°What?!¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time your rash actions have caused an incident. You may think your tactic of action first and thinking later is useful, I assure you it¡¯s not. At this point, you¡¯re more of a risk than an asset to the mission. So, you¡¯re suspended for three weeks.¡± I stare at her in disbelief. She can¡¯t suspend me! We need everyone on this! I need to convince her to at least look into my suspicions! I can¡¯t sit at home for three weeks after the incident with Vasilisa. I won¡¯t survive it with my mind intact. ¡°You¡¯re dismissed, Centurion. You¡¯ll report for duty again starting Monday after your suspension period, but you¡¯ll be on probationary status. Try me again, and your job as a Centurion will be terminated entirely.¡± I stand up brusquely. ¡°When shit hits the fan, you¡¯re going to regret this decision.¡± ¡°Go home, Averline.¡± I leave the office, so bitter at that moment I almost hope Elena does succeed, just to show Carver she¡¯s horrifically wrong. I return to the elevator and ride it to the ground floor, not bothering to grab anything from my desk. I can¡¯t believe this. I can¡¯t believe I handed the killer up on a silver platter and got exiled because of it. Maybe Carver is in on it too. I sigh, logic finally emerging through the electrifying pulses of anger and grief. Carver is harsh, but she¡¯s steadfast and true. If Elena is the killer (she is! my mind insists), then she found out a way to dupe Carver. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I try to puzzle out the how as I ride the T back to Dorchester, feeling coldly numb by the time I reach Fields Corner and walk the rest of the way home with no answers to the question. ?????¡ã???¡ã????? It¡¯s past 1 o¡¯clock in the morning when I get in. I look around dully as I kick my shoes off and shuffle into the living room, collapsing onto the couch. Suspended. At a time like this¡­ I think of Elena and her hurt expression when I accused her, of Ulysses¡¯s shocked outrage that I would dare say such a thing against his partner, of Carver dismissing my concerns entirely. I think of Henry and his silent departure in the Common, and of Vasilisa and her aloof expression as she pulled my worst pain to the surface to expose it to the light. My mind plays images as if I¡¯m looking through a kaleidoscope, but all the images are of sadness, grief or anger. I close my eyes, but they still howl through my mind. In a sudden frenzy, I vacate the couch and hurry to my fridge, yanking open the door and nearly sobbing in relief when I see there¡¯s still beer in there. Enough to get me drunk, for certain, so I can hopefully pass out and stop thinking about all of this. At least if I¡¯m drunk and feral werewolves burst through my door, I¡¯ll be calmer when I¡¯m devoured. I take a couple of beers with me back to the living room and turn on the television, not really watching whatever drama is unfolding between the characters as I¡¯m focused on drinking as fast as I can to meet sweet oblivion all the sooner. I¡¯m not sure how long I¡¯m out before loud knocking wakes me up. Beer cans are scattered across the coffee table and floor around the couch and I feel like shit. My head is pounding, my mouth is dry and has a thick, yeasty flavor from the cheap alcohol. My stomach can¡¯t seem to decide if it''s hungry or nauseous, and may just be both for added discomfort. I don¡¯t want to move, not even my eyes which set my head to throbbing just from glancing towards the front hall, but that knocking won¡¯t stop. If it¡¯s some late-night solicitor, I¡¯m going to lose it. I may lose it anyway. With a groan, I get to my feet slowly and wait for the wave of dizziness to recede enough that I feel confident walking to the front door without falling over. I move in a haphazard line to my destination, opening the door a crack and seeing Billy there, his hand still raised and a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. ¡°Hey, kid.¡± I can¡¯t decide whether his presence here is unwelcome or comforting so I opt for the latter and open the door the rest of the way to let him in. I also pluck the cigarette from between his lips and take a long drag, even though I¡¯ve never been the sort who smoked in my house. One time won¡¯t hurt. Unless I drop it on the rug or couch and set fire to the place, and with my luck today I think that¡¯s more of a possibility so I hand it back to Billy who drops it on the front landing and snuffs it out before stepping inside. We go to the living room and I don¡¯t even bother to try and collect the evidence of my drinking, kicking a can out of the way before flopping down on the couch again. I regret the jerky movement immediately, and take a few deep breaths as that nausea rises up my throat. ¡°So, I heard about what happened,¡± Billy ventures. ¡°I¡¯m sure the entire Order heard about it,¡± I grunt. ¡°True, although Carver is doing a pretty good job of keeping people from gossiping about it,¡± Billy says. ¡°You want to talk about it?¡± ¡°I want to know what that asshole from the market said after you brought him to HQ.¡± ¡°He hasn¡¯t said anything yet. His will is a lot stronger than I thought it¡¯d be.¡± I feel my head throb again as irritation spikes through me once more. I glare at Billy. ¡°Quit sounding so impressed.¡± ¡°Hey, credit where credit is due, y¡¯know? Sheldon will break him though, and uh¡­I guess we¡¯ll see what he has to say about Elena then.¡± ¡°Do you not believe me?¡± I ask. ¡°I think anything¡¯s possible at this point, kid,¡± Billy sighs. I purse my lips, thinking hard. I¡¯m also certain that Sheldon will manage to get my assailant to talk, but there¡¯s still the sense that we¡¯re running out of time. We need to make some progress, I need to prove that my suspicions are more than idle fancies. My gaze softens and I feel vile for the thought that crosses my mind, but I voice it anyway. ¡°Did you manage to get more Whiteworm?¡± ¡°Why yes I did,¡± Billy replies, looking surprised. I can¡¯t blame him, I¡¯m always giving him shit for his recreational hobbies. ¡°Can you¡­use it for a guided vision? Try and focus on Elena?¡± ¡°You do realize that is completely against all laws established by Cerberus.¡± ¡°Yeah and how important will those laws be if we¡¯re overrun by feral werewolves?¡± He shrugs. ¡°Fair point.¡± Silence blossoms between us and I feel like I can¡¯t say anything more. That he has to be the one to speak, to agree to this. I know he¡¯s not worried about using, Billy loves chasing that high despite the dangers Whiteworm possesses. I know he¡¯s not particularly worried about breaking the rules either, although this is an invasion of privacy unlike anything he¡¯s done before. Waltzing into my house is one thing, trying to force a vision of someone is far more intrusive. But I think if he sees nothing, it¡¯ll help me let go. And I¡¯m so sure that he¡¯ll see something, and give me the evidence I need for Carver to take action against the Enchantress, that I¡¯m already prepared to keep trying to convince him if he says no. ¡°Okay, kid,¡± he relents, not looking happy about this decision at all. ¡°Okay¡­I don¡¯t got it on me, I dropped by my place before coming here so,¡± he looks around at my beer can-strewn living room. ¡°How about we go there?¡± ¡°Fine,¡± I say. ¡°Just¡­let me get some water first.¡± ?????¡ã???¡ã????? Billy is one of those who braves the confusing streets of Boston via car. I could spend a lifetime in the city and still get turned around by all the one way streets that seem to force you farther and farther from your destination. Plus, drivers here are notoriously aggressive, but I¡¯m beginning to think it¡¯s a form of stress release for Billy as he¡¯s the most aggressive of them all. He speeds, weaves in and around traffic, and makes me think we¡¯re genuinely going to crash and die about six times in the 15 minutes it takes to get from my house to his apartment building. I christen the sidewalk outside the building with vomit, nausea finally winning out in the end. By now, pale sunlight is banishing the dark from the city. I don¡¯t feel rested at all despite the couple of hours I was passed out, and part of me wants to say ¡®fuck it¡¯ and go to sleep properly. I say nothing about it, but when we enter Billy¡¯s studio apartment, he goes immediately to the kitchen faucet to fill up a slightly dusty looking glass with water. I disregard the lack of cleanliness of the glass and slowly drink the water, thankful to wash the acrid taste from my mouth. As I drink, I take a look around. I¡¯ve never been to Billy¡¯s apartment before, he¡¯s always showing up at my place instead. Upon walking in, the kitchen greets us right away and to our left the bathroom door is ajar, revealing a pretty spacious bathroom. Past the kitchen the apartment opens up to a living room/bedroom. There¡¯s no couch, just a sunken mattress on the floor and a metric shit ton of pillows scattered around to make up for the lack of actual furniture. It¡¯s very Billy. The walls are a bright teal, the kitchen cabinets are black, as are the appliances, the living room has a pale yellow rug spreading across washed out wooden floors. On the walls are colorful prints of eclectic taste; flowers, instruments, random portraits of people I don¡¯t know. There¡¯s also tapestries in hues of purples, blues and grays tacked across large swaths of walls that aren¡¯t covered in pictures. ¡°I¡¯m getting swinger vibes, Billy,¡± I admit. ¡°Sex is also a really good way to trigger visions,¡± Billy replies in stride. I frown, not sure if that¡¯s true or not and picturing how odd it would be if it is. I can¡¯t imagine being in the middle of sex then getting a clamorous vision about one of the Centurions in danger or a villain about to do something catastrophic. Talk about killing the mood. I set my empty glass down in the sink and follow Billy into the living space. He sits on the bed and opens the nearby end table, not needing to dig around for the drugs since he must have just put them there. I scrutinize the baggie of bright white mushrooms as if waiting for it to confess to a number of crimes. ¡°Quit mad dogging my drugs,¡± Billy teases. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure about this¡­¡± I murmur. I¡¯ve sobered up by now, and while the Whiteworm Amanita doesn¡¯t look particularly menacing, I feel a tremor run up my spine all the same. ¡°I mean, I have weed too if you¡¯d rather call it all off and chill.¡± It¡¯s such a tempting offer, I¡¯m almost inclined to agree. I¡¯m suspended anyway¡­deep down I know I won¡¯t say yes though. I have to keep going. I have to know. I have to stop all of this. ¡°Maybe afterwards,¡± I say instead. Billy nods, like he expected that - he probably did. He opens up the baggie and plucks out a large mushroom. They remind me of the mushrooms utilized in Mario games, sturdy stem, wide brimmed cap, only instead of red with white spots, this is pure white with tiny black speckles dusted across the cap. Billy pops the whole thing into his mouth, chewing a few times and swallowing with a content sigh before he lays on his back on the sagging mattress. ¡°Well?¡± I ask. ¡°Take it easy, kid¡­takes a couple minutes to kick in. Now shuddup, I need to concentrate on our Enchantress.¡± Billy closes his eyes and I stare avidly at him, every muscle tense. While I¡¯m the epitome of on edge, Billy looks totally relaxed, hands folded on his belly, a small smile on his face, even breath making his chest rise and fall rhythmically. It feels like hours pass before his eyes open again. They¡¯re clouded over, irises barely visible through the haze of milky white swimming across his eyes. I know from prior lessons that a Sentinel¡¯s visions mostly depict the future. Sometimes as soon as ten minutes in the future, like Billy¡¯s vision of my fight in the Fae market, sometimes as far out as a year. There¡¯s no control over the visions naturally, not unless you¡¯ve got someone as gifted as Sheldon, who¡¯s also an Enchanter so that gives him a boost most Sentinels lack. Guys like Sheldon, they can go backwards, it¡¯s useful in gaining the motivation of some of our more complex adversaries. Billy can¡¯t, not unless he gets the boost the likes of Whiteworm gives him. He blinks slowly, then his lips part and I see tears form in his eyes before they slip down his face. ¡°You can¡¯t ask me to do this,¡± he whispers. I lean forward, breathless as whatever scene he¡¯s viewing plays out through his voice. A one-man show, script courtesy of Elena Silvyn. As I watch, Billy¡¯s expression changes and becomes stoic, brows furrowing, eyes hard. This is whoever Elena spoke to in the vision Billy sees, channeled through the Seer. ¡°Let her be,¡± he says coldly. ¡°What you wish for goes against the natural order.¡± ¡°P-please, my love, please.¡± ¡°You think I haven¡¯t thought about it? I have. But we can¡¯t.¡± ¡°I can make a better reality for us!¡± ¡°NO!¡± I actually shift backwards at the force of that denial. Whoever Elena argued with that day, there was a lot of anger and grief in them. ¡°Please¡­¡± ¡°Leave my Morra be, let her rest. Let me rest. Test me no further on this.¡± ¡°Al¡­¡± Billy is interrupted by a loud gasp and his whole body seizes suddenly, back arching off the mattress. ¡°Billy?¡± I ask, eyes widening. He writhes, hands curling into fists and eyes opened as wide as they can. That¡¯s when I notice the tears have become pink, then red as they¡¯re replaced with blood. ¡°BILLY!¡± I lunge for him, grabbing him by the shoulders. His eyes are still the milky white that indicates he¡¯s in the vision, and I shake him like that will break him free. I see his opaque pupils contract and zero in on me. ¡°No,¡± he breathes raspily. ¡°You don¡¯t¡­¡± he trembles, eyes clenching shut, ¡°focus¡­what¡­said.¡± His convulsions become worse and I¡¯m shouting and sobbing, trying to bring him back, trying to focus enough to think if I know any remedy for Whiteworm highs. There¡¯s blood flowing steadily from Billy¡¯s eyes, his nose, his mouth, his ears. His brain is hemorrhaging at an alarming rate. In a panic, I grab my Centurion pendant and rip it from around my neck to place on his forehead instead. The ward trembles, I feel heat gliding up the chain of the pendant and with an agonizing intake of breath, Billy goes still. ¡°Billy? Billy! Come on, talk to me! Billy!¡± ¡°H-hey kid. Not¡­so loud¡­huh? I feel like¡­I got¡­mush between my¡­my ears,¡± Billy croaks. His face is stained red, the mattress under his head is soaked with that deep color. ¡°What happened?¡± I¡¯m crying, the words choked and nearly intelligible. ¡°Was it her? What do I do? Billy, what do I do? How do I help you? I¡¯ll call HQ or¡­or a hospital!¡± ¡°Nah, Riley. S¡¯all right. Just¡­let me¡­chill here for a while. Still got¡­that joint to pass¡­then we, we crash for a bit. You¡­¡± he manages a weak chuckle, ¡°you look like shit.¡± ¡°Billy!¡± ¡°You¡¯re a good guy, Ri¡­try to¡­take care of yourself now and then though, would you?¡± He goes still and I wait for him to keep talking. I need him to keep talking. I reach out and take his hand, shaking it. ¡°Billy?¡± no response. ¡°Billy, c¡¯mon.¡± Nothing. I can¡¯t do this. I can¡¯t accept this. Not him. I grip him tightly and ignore the tears streaming from my eyes as I throw my head back and scream. Chapter VIII: Broken Bonds I can¡¯t have been sitting here for more than 10 minutes when the front door opens. I noticed the flashing red and blue lights beforehand, some of Billy¡¯s neighbors must have called during the commotion. No officer steps through the door, however, instead Joseph Sheldon and Chiaki Ito enter the apartment. I¡¯m on my knees cradling Billy¡¯s body, looking up only when Sheldon and Chiaki stop at the end of the mattress, him with those ice blue eyes pinned on me, her looking aghast at the scene. ¡°So I am too late after all,¡± Sheldon murmurs, more to himself. ¡°Centurion, what have you done?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything!¡± I roar. I will not let him put Billy¡¯s death on me. I won¡¯t. I can¡¯t. ¡°He was looking into¡­¡± ¡°Elena,¡± Sheldon finishes. ¡°I saw. You know that is against our laws to begin with, but to encourage his continued use of Whiteworm¡­¡± ¡°She killed him,¡± I hiss. ¡°She¡­she saw him, she felt him, and she killed him.¡± ¡°No, you fool,¡± Sheldon snaps. ¡°The Whiteworm killed him! This is what happens when you overdose. The drug opens the mind, but at great risk. It is the equivalent of Russian roulette, but each time you use it, there¡¯s more rounds in the chambers!¡± ¡°I¡­¡± ¡°You put his life on the line to chase a preposterous lead! He is dead because of you!¡± ¡°That¡¯s not true!¡± ¡°Whatever you may argue, it does not matter. Centurion Riley Averline, I am arresting you for your hand in the death of Sentinel William Burke.¡± I can¡¯t afford to get arrested. It¡¯s bad enough being suspended, if I¡¯m locked up then I¡¯ll really have no other way to finish this. I don¡¯t stand a chance against Sheldon and Chiaki though. I may mop the floor with him if it was just weapons or grappling, but the man has an arsenal of spells he can hurl at me to knock me out of commission, and I¡¯ve seen Chiaki fight. She¡¯s brutal. Sheldon nods to her now and she steps forward. I peer up at her, my arms still wrapped around Billy. ¡°You have to let go of him now, Riley,¡± Chiaki says in a far more empathetic tone than I expected. ¡°I never wanted this¡­¡± ¡°I know,¡± she says. ¡°But come on, please, come with me.¡± She looks pointedly at me, but I¡¯m too much of a mess to pick out any meaning. I just hear Sheldon calling in the incident, citing my name as the contributing factor. Chiaki places her hand on my shoulder, and I begin to wonder if it would really be so bad to just give up and let them lock me away. I carefully lay Billy down, fresh tears spilling over my cheeks as I look at his blood-stained face. Despite the visceral image, he still has that gentle smile on his face, which only hurts me more. I let Chiaki help me to my feet, and I don¡¯t fight her when she takes whatever weapons I still have on me. She¡¯ll take me to headquarters, where Carver and likely Chief Glass will be waiting to incarcerate me. They¡¯ll hold a council about it, they¡¯ll let me say my piece¡­but not any time soon. It won¡¯t be a priority, the mission is. So who knows how long I¡¯ll be down there in a cell. Once more it almost feels like a relief to picture it. When we get back to the street, I see that the police cruisers are gone. There¡¯s a couple more Centurions around the building who must have done damage control to keep things from escalating with the mundanes living here. Chiaki leads me down the street, and I can see a line of dark cars belonging to the Order parked in an orderly fashion. We reach one towards the end and she pauses, looking at me again. ¡°Run,¡± she whispers. ¡°...What?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re right about Elena,¡± Chiaki says quickly. ¡°But you¡¯re the only one investigating this angle. Go, find out what¡¯s really going on.¡± ¡°But¡­you¡¯ll be questioned.¡± Chiaki frowns and seems to brace herself. ¡°Push me down,¡± she insists. ¡°Chi¡­¡± ¡°Do it,¡± she hisses. ¡°Before Sheldon and the others come over here!¡± It seems such a high risk, given that it¡¯s daylight by now. The streets aren¡¯t empty by any means and assaulting Chiaki is going to cause a commotion. To help me along, she slaps me across the face, and it¡¯s just what I need after everything that¡¯s happened to lash out and shove her. Hard. She goes down and I run into the nearby alley and I don¡¯t stop for anything. I have no idea where I¡¯m even going, I just keep running. I have to keep running. I can¡¯t go home, I can¡¯t go to Henry¡¯s, I can¡¯t go anywhere I¡¯d normally go. Suspended to a fugitive in less than 24 hours. Billy¡¯s dead, Elena is still safe in her tower, and now what fragile standing I may have had with the likes of Sheldon and Carver will be severed. I¡¯m fucked, in other words. So I keep on running. ?????¡ã???¡ã???? I end up back in the market, thinking that even if the Order looks for me here, they¡¯ll have a hard time picking me out of the crowd. I feel feverish¡­raw. I feel like I¡¯m going to break apart, and I notice the other beings in the market give me a wide berth when I stagger down main street. I have no idea what to do. I think of returning to the Archives and asking Vasilisa, but it¡¯s visiting her that started this spiral in the first place. My mind leaps to the possibility that the dragon¡¯s involved somehow, perhaps trying to reopen Paradise after failing all those centuries ago. The thought brings up what Billy said: anything is possible. His bloody face overwhelms my mind again and I feel more tears leaking down my face. I wish I could convince myself he¡¯d just been unconscious, that Sheldon revived him after Chiaki led me from the apartment. Maybe that is the case. Maybe I¡¯ll find out that Billy will be fine after some medical attention. ¡°Hey, um, what the fuck?¡± I hear a voice ask. The voice is familiar, but I can¡¯t place it. I turn unsteadily and see Brianna sitting at a table outside a small cafe. I don¡¯t know why the sight of the awning over the outdoor seating suddenly amuses me. It¡¯s not like rain is going to get through the dense rock above our heads. I may be close to breaking, but I take the momentary distraction as a boon rather than a warning. ¡°...What?¡± I ask. ¡°You look cracked out,¡± Brianna replies. ¡°Okay,¡± I murmur, then start forward again. ¡°Hey,¡± her voice follows me, and I hear the legs of her chair scraping against cobblestone as she stands. I don¡¯t stop, but I don¡¯t try to lose her either as she catches up to me. ¡°What happened? Did you figure anything else out? We lost another wolf since we last talked!¡± ¡°I dunno,¡± I mumble. ¡°You don¡¯t know what? Could you focus?¡± I look at her fully and my expression must take her aback. Her eyes widen and the impatience that pinched her features disappears. ¡°When was the last time you slept?¡± she asks. ¡°I dunno.¡± ¡°You need me to¡­call Henry or something? Have him bring you home?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t go home,¡± I sigh, still walking with no clear direction. ¡°All right, since you¡¯re going to stay cryptic then I guess I should just leave you be,¡± Brianna huffs. ¡°Probably.¡± She stops, and I keep walking. I don¡¯t care what she does. I don¡¯t care what I do. I just focus on one foot in front of the other. ¡°Dammit,¡± I hear her curse, then her hurried footsteps as she moves ahead of me, blocking my way forward. ¡°Something happened, and I¡¯m going to find out what before I lose any more of my pack. So, come with me, dumbass, and you can get some fucking sleep before telling me everything.¡± ?????¡ã???¡ã????? I let Brianna lead me out of the market and to the subway. I¡¯m barely cognizant of where we¡¯re going and trust her to continue jostling me along to our destination. We get out in Allston, and after a 10 minute walk from the station, we come across a pleasant, three-unit apartment that looks like a colonial-style house. Brianna heads up to the third floor, and unlocks the front door before practically shoving me inside. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m doing this,¡± she grumbles. ¡°Take your shoes off,¡± she says more clearly. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. I¡¯m on autopilot as I do as she asks. She tells me to follow her down the hall, and I do, not bothering to take in her apartment. I¡¯m still thinking of Billy¡¯s. She brings me to a door that opens into a guest bedroom. ¡°Bathroom is across the hall, there,¡± she says, pointing. ¡°And..uh¡­you can leave your clothes outside your door and I¡¯ll run them through the wash. I got shit I need to throw in there anyway. You may want to shower too, because...just¡­damn.¡± I want to ask if I¡¯m still making a good impression, but I can¡¯t muster up the energy to attempt levity right now. The awkwardness of the situation catches up with Brianna, and she attempts a smile that is more a grimace, then heads off towards the living room we passed. I stand in the hall for a while longer, trying to decide between sleep and a shower. It¡¯s a monumental decision, and I feel overwhelmed by it for a second - knowing it¡¯s not actually the cause of my near breakdown. I opt for the shower first, peeling my clothes off and rubbing at my ribs. I wore the binder way too long, and I¡¯m aching. The hot water helps though, and I take too long of a shower because it¡¯s nice drowning out the world for a while, but when it starts going tepid, I know it¡¯s time to step back into reality. At least just long enough to reach the bed. My clothes are really in need of a wash by now, so I wrap a towel around my body and slink off to the guest room, glad that Brianna isn¡¯t nearby to see me at all. I pull the covers back and get into the bed, thinking I won¡¯t be able to sleep after everything that¡¯s happened. Thinking just being in this unknown place will keep me from drifting off. My worries are unfounded, because I¡¯ve barely begun convincing myself I wouldn¡¯t sleep before I pass out. When I wake up, I see sunlight filtering through the curtains. I sit up with a groan, searching for my phone to check the time when I remember I tossed it in the market to throw off any Centurions. The Techies could track it easily, and I¡¯m not savvy enough to know how to avoid their detection other than ridding myself of the phone entirely. I do see my clothes folded on top of a dresser, so I¡¯ve been sleeping at least long enough for a wash cycle. I pull them on again and scratch at my hair, which is a curly and tangled mess without any sort of products in it to tame it. Whatever. I leave the room and make my way towards the living room, where I hear the murmur of a television playing. Entering the living room, I see Brianna lounging on the couch, a steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of her. When she notices me, she sits up with a whistle. ¡°Damn about time,¡± she says. ¡°How long was I out?¡± ¡°Well it¡¯s noon,¡± Brianna begins, which was only about three hours since I got here. ¡°Of the next day,¡± she finishes. ¡°Seriously?¡± ¡°Mm-hm.¡± ¡°Fuck¡­¡± ¡°What happened?¡± she asks. I try to get my thoughts aligned in my head, but there¡¯s so many I can¡¯t sift through them all. ¡°Can I grab a coffee?¡± I ask. ¡°Yeah, just be quick about it.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t have turmeric in it, does it?¡± She pulls a face. ¡°Why would it?¡± ¡°Never mind.¡± I go to the adjacent kitchen and make a bee-line for the coffee pot. I open the cabinet just above it, glad my hunch is correct and clean mugs are in there. I keep the coffee black and go back to the living room, sitting on the loveseat set near the couch Brianna¡¯s on. ¡°Spill,¡± she says. I open my mouth, then promptly shut it again. Carver talked about how dangerous it was to speak about Paradise, to let more people know about it. But then, Carver also refused to think the problem could be in Cerberus so maybe I shouldn¡¯t take her word as gospel. ¡°The mage is killing werewolves because she needs enough blood to cast a spell that would force the change,¡± I begin. ¡°This is only the beginning, however. To succeed in her goal to reach the True Source of Magic, she needs way more blood. The sort that will be shed if your entire pack is let loose on Boston.¡± ¡°Castillo told me about that part,¡± Brianna says. ¡°You didn¡¯t think he wouldn¡¯t warn us about that? But you keep saying she. Do you know the bitch behind this?¡± ¡°I¡­think so,¡± I say after a brief hesitation. ¡°I think one of the Order¡¯s Enchantresses is behind this, Elena Silvyn. Do you know about her at all?¡± ¡°Nope, but tell me all about her so I can pay her back for every wolf she murdered.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that simple,¡± I say. ¡°With this sort of mission, it¡¯s not unusual for senior members to stick around headquarters until it¡¯s solved. She won¡¯t leave and there¡¯s no way you can get to her there.¡± ¡°Well¡­what the fuck?¡± Brianna¡¯s exasperation is something I¡¯m too familiar with by now. ¡°Why isn¡¯t the Order doing something about her then?¡± ¡°They don¡¯t believe me.¡± ¡°Why do you think she¡¯s the killer?¡± ¡°I went to the market yesterday¡­before you saw me there. I spoke with Vasilisa, the Head Archivist.¡± ¡°I hear she¡¯s a dragon,¡± Brianna interjects. ¡°Is that true? Because I call bullshit.¡± ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± I sigh. ¡°She told me that she tried to open the way to the True Source, to ¡®Paradise¡¯, a long, long time ago. She wasn¡¯t strong enough, but her effort set off a fucking super volcano that nearly wiped all of humanity out and killed the rest of her kind. So, if Elena isn¡¯t powerful enough, then something like that will happen again and we¡¯re screwed anyway.¡± ¡°Okay, okay¡­great,¡± Brianna says, voice seething with sarcasm. ¡°I¡¯m glad this is all adding up to we¡¯re dead either way. What else?¡± ¡°When I left the Archives, I got attacked by someone who said I was ¡®working for that lunatic locked away like a princess in the tower.¡¯ He called her Saint Hypocrite, and she¡¯s one of the few who¡¯s openly religious among the Order, so I figured it was a dig about her faith considering her¡­well, murdering a bunch of werewolves to gain ultimate power.¡± ¡°Hold up,¡± Brianna even holds her hand up to halt my story. ¡°Vasilisa didn¡¯t mention anything else? Like, something we could look for to indicate this shit is going down? I thought when it came to really big spells like this, there¡¯s visible signs of it before it¡¯s cast completely. It just seems this is a one-of-a-kind spell that should have some special aspect that can tip us off as to when it¡¯s being used.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± I concede. ¡°I¡­didn¡¯t ask.¡± ¡°Um¡­Dumbass.¡± ¡°You weren¡¯t there!¡± I snap. She raises a brow at me, unimpressed with my temper. I avert my gaze, shoulders hunched somewhat. ¡°Sorry. She¡­she got into my head somehow. She made me relive¡­really bad memories. With Henry.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Brianna sounds awkward again, and takes a prolonged sip of her coffee. ¡°So¡­what else? Why can¡¯t you go home or whatever?¡± ¡°They¡¯re blaming me for Billy¡¯s death.¡± ¡°Who?¡± ¡°A Sentinel from the Order. I asked him to instigate a vision about Elena to prove I was right¡­¡± I hate reliving this, but I force myself to. I have to believe there¡¯s something in what Billy conveyed that can help me, but maybe my mind is too numb to pick up on it and Brianna will figure it out. I try to repeat the dialogue as close to how Billy said it as possible, and when I finish with ¡°...that¡¯s it, that was all he got to say,¡± I feel tears threatening to fall again. I keep them back though, Billy wouldn¡¯t want me to cry in front of a veritable stranger. Brianna doesn¡¯t look upset about Billy¡¯s demise and I feel inexplicable fury towards her because of it. I know that¡¯s not fair, however, she didn¡¯t know him. And as far as she¡¯s concerned, Sentinels just invade the privacy of everyone else. She doesn¡¯t look upset, but she does look on guard suddenly which piques my interest beneath the malaise of my grief. ¡°You got the Order after you and you didn¡¯t say so after I offered to take you in?¡± she barks. ¡°I don¡¯t have my phone¡­or my pendant,¡± I don¡¯t know if the latter part of that sentence will make sense to her, but I left it back at Billy¡¯s. ¡°Yeah but you got a bunch of seers that are going to be looking, right?¡± she demands. ¡°So you got to get your ass out of my house before they raid it or some shit!¡± I glare at her. ¡°You didn¡¯t suspect I was in this sort of trouble when you found me yesterday?¡± ¡°Not this much. I figured you were dazed, maybe spell-dazed after a confrontation with a certain mage, or drunk, or high¡­or something!¡± ¡°Fine. Whatever, I¡¯ll go,¡± I snap, setting my mostly untouched coffee down and getting brusquely to my feet. ¡°Did anything I say tip you off to any helpful leads?¡± Brianna is stubbornly quiet for a few seconds before she scoffs and looks away from me. ¡°It could be nothing, could be big. See if you can¡¯t talk to the bossman again.¡± ¡°Castillo?¡± ¡°You wanna know what he used to call me when I first joined up with his pack?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Morra. It means kiddo or like, little girl.¡± I know this is probably hugely important, but I just give her a quizzical look, seeing that Brianna looks to be in her thirties, and hardly someone I would call ¡®little girl¡¯. ¡°I was seven when he took me in,¡± she adds. ¡°But was¡­did he know Elena?¡± ¡°I already told you, he doesn¡¯t talk about personal shit with anybody. If he does? I don¡¯t know about it.¡± I think about what Henry said, and his sense that Castillo knew more about all of this than he should. I also recall the feeling that he was holding back during our brief dialogue. I¡¯m lightheaded as my mind zooms through everything that happened yesterday, but Brianna interrupts me by standing up. ¡°Listen, you really do have to go,¡± she insists. ¡°I know what happens when the Order targets someone, I don¡¯t want to disappear.¡± ¡°Oh. Right,¡± I reply, though I barely heard her. ¡°I¡¯ll go. Yeah. Thanks for letting me crash here anyway.¡± She waves me off impatiently and I head towards the exit. I do pause before leaving, however, to look back at her. ¡°Sorry about your pack. With luck, this will be over soon.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± she says. There¡¯s another beat of silence then she continues, ¡°hey, be careful, okay?¡± ¡°Okay.¡± I leave then, because she¡¯s right. Even without my phone and pendant, the Sentinels could be looking. I¡¯ll be considered a rogue, a threat to Cerberus, and thus this will be part of the Sentinels¡¯ job, rather than a breach of the Order¡¯s laws as they focus on me the way Billy focused on Elena. Maybe they won¡¯t really be looking though. I¡¯m hoping they¡¯ll focus on the case, but since they won¡¯t look in their own ranks, they won¡¯t have many leads to follow. I have to speak with Castillo again. Now that I¡¯m alone, once more walking with no clear path ahead, I think about the conversation Billy relayed. Beyond just thinking about that one, I force myself to consider Vasilisa too, and her tale about two lovers who suffered such a loss. Was I wrong in thinking she was talking about me and Henry? Could she be referring to Elena? The Enchantress did not seem a woman who lost anything, she was always so serene and at peace. Was this not about gaining power for power¡¯s sake? Was this about loss? I pause, ignoring the curse from the pedestrian behind me who has to side-step quickly to avoid walking into me. There¡¯s a thread here I need to follow. Although it still doesn¡¯t answer a few counters to my theory that Elena is guilty. There¡¯s still the fact the likes of Charlemagne did not sense her true power, which a vampire of his age most certainly would even if she did learn how to cloak it from the rest of Cerberus ¨C a feat that would require the sort of power one would expect from a mage trying to open Paradise. Because getting to Castillo meant going through Henry, I decide to go to the Moliere Coven first. I¡¯m not ready to call Henry after the other night, and frankly I¡¯m not sure if he¡¯d be ready to answer me. On the plus side, I¡¯ll be calling from a payphone or borrowed mobile, so at least he won¡¯t recognize my number and I¡¯ll have a better chance of him answering. Still, I¡¯m just not ready to talk to him right now, and I tell myself that going to the vampire coven will only cement my findings further anyway. The more evidence I have, the better chance I¡¯ll have to clear my name and stop all of this once and for all. Chapter IX: Charlemagne It¡¯s good that I¡¯m going to the Moliere Coven I suppose. They live outside of Boston, and that might keep me from the Order¡¯s immediate radar. Of course, it all depends on whether they¡¯ll even let me inside as to whether I¡¯ll make actual progress on this case or not. I get on the train that will take me out to Weston before I can question the merits of this plan, thinking that I might convince myself not to go otherwise. Being on the train feels like a break. Getting out of the city more so. I try not to wonder what Billy would say about all of this, and I know he would have come with me even if the rest of the Order is convinced I¡¯m a lunatic by now. Billy was always good about standing by me, and I¡¯m certain he¡¯s the reason Carver didn¡¯t bench me entirely, and shoved me off to Day Shift instead of giving me the proverbial¡­or maybe literal with her¡­ax. I sigh and shut my eyes, still feeling exhausted. I just want this to be over, I want the last 48 hours to have been a horrible nightmare. I¡¯m not that naive though, and certainly not imaginative enough to pretend otherwise. I focus on steeling myself for what¡¯s ahead, rather than lamenting everything that happened of late. Vampires, actual vampires and not Henry vampires, are clever and dangerous. They deal in deceit, and the older they are the more deceptive they can be. To them, I¡¯m just another mortal. It doesn¡¯t matter that I¡¯m a Centurion, they only ever really give our Senior operatives any kind of respect, and even that may be feigned for civility¡¯s sake. I¡¯m not sure exactly how old Charlemagne is, but if he came into the name around the time of the Holy Roman emperor with the same one, that puts him over a thousand. That¡¯s a whole lot more experience he has over myself, in all manner of things. Although, I¡¯ve heard that he is¡­tediously theatric. I guess when you¡¯re immortal, you need to find some ways to keep life fun. Public transit doesn¡¯t quite reach where I need to go. I¡¯d hire an Uber, but there¡¯s protocol against that kind of thing. I¡¯m not meant to lead mundanes to a vampire den, and since I don¡¯t have a car, the only thing I can do is walk. It¡¯s only about 30 minutes, and the later in the day it is the more chance I have of speaking to Charlemagne rather than a thrall. Besides, it¡¯s nice out here. Less cluttered, and grossly rich¡­these houses are easily in the 8 to 9,000 square foot range. I can¡¯t imagine how much time it takes to clean them. I follow South Street to Summer Street, keeping a leisurely pace and periodically checking street names. This would be a hell of a lot easier if I still had my phone and GPS, but I want to say I¡¯m recalling it correctly. I don¡¯t remember the exact number of the house, but I¡¯m certain I¡¯ll recognize it from the dozier files we have on the coven. Hopefully. I do feel encouraged when I wind up on Meadowbrook Road after a few wrong turns makes the trip closer to an hour, because I know the house is here somewhere. I look to my left, then to my right, shrug, and go right. The homes, or rather mansions, are spaced out a bit and not even by city standards. I keep creeping into the drive of these affluent properties to study the exteriors, hoping none of the homeowners look out the window at the wrong time and call the cops. Fortunately, my day isn¡¯t that shitty yet, and I manage to continue on my search until I stop, feel my heart skip a beat, and realize that I¡¯m at the right spot. I needed a win, and I¡¯m considering this one even if I still feel heavy and want to drop out of existence for a while. This feeling only intensifies as I walk up to the large house. Now that I¡¯ve reached my destination, my mind keeps going back to Billy. Billy agreeing to follow up on my hunch, Billy beginning to seize, Billy bleeding, Billy dying. A tremor runs through me and I feel my chest constrict and my throat tighten. I need to pull myself together fast, I can¡¯t be walking into a coven as well-established as the Moliere one while going through a total breakdown. I can mourn later¡­although that thought stings me like a needle. Billy doesn¡¯t deserve to be put on the back burner, but I need to solve this for his sake. He won¡¯t have died in vain, if that¡¯s the only thing I can do for anyone at this point, it¡¯s enough for me. I clear my throat as I get up to the door and knock. Reconsidering as I once again gauge how fucking huge this mansion is, I ring the doorbell instead and hear deep chimes from within. A few minutes later the door opens and while I¡¯m expecting the interior to look like some Gothic mansion, reminiscent of the Victorian age, I¡¯m surprised that the entrance hall at least is a bright white and modern. The person who answered the door is a thrall. I can tell by all the various teeth marks in his arms and neck, as well as the somewhat glazed over expression that gives the impression the man is high as a kite. It''s a good cover, mundanes think ¡®stoner¡¯ before they think ¡®vampire doll¡¯. ¡°Who are you?¡± the man asks me, and his voice is whimsical, like someone caught in a dream. Poor bastard. Still, if the Moliere Coven is strict about following the regulations they agreed to with the Order, any thrall here is here by choice. ¡°My name is Riley Averline, I¡¯m a Centurion working on the¡­big case,¡± I hope that¡¯s enough to go off of. ¡°My betters have entertained enough Centurions and Enchanters and Sentinels regarding this matter,¡± the thrall hums. ¡°So, be on your way. We¡¯re quite done with you all and must consider preparing for battle.¡± ¡°Battle?¡± ¡°The wolves won¡¯t stay in the city,¡± the thrall replies. ¡°They¡¯ll spread like¡­locusts.¡± ¡°Not very fond of them, are you?¡± I ask. The man smiles sleepily. He may not care one way or the other, and I know that his disdain for the werewolves comes from his masters rather than himself. ¡°Regardless, it is very important that I speak with Charlemagne,¡± I urge. The man gasps and slowly brings a hand to his mouth. ¡°You mean, the Master.¡± ¡°Er¡­yes, that¡¯s the one.¡± ¡°One does not waltz into our sanctuary and ask for the Master.¡± ¡°Uh huh, and supposedly one doesn¡¯t just walk into Mordor either, but the ring still ended up melted,¡± I grouse. ¡°He¡¯s going to want to hear this, I think I have a line of questioning that he hasn¡¯t heard before¡­and considering we¡¯re all going to be in the shit if the mage succeeds, maybe he can make an exception about meeting me without an appointment.¡± The man stares at me, I stare back. Then he blinks slowly and another languid smile spreads across his face. ¡°Follow me,¡± he says cordially. He opens the door further to permit me inside and closes it behind me. Then he almost seems to glide deeper into the house. It¡¯s not hard to see how, he¡¯s wearing socks and all the floors are a sleek, bright marble. There¡¯s dark veins throughout it, like forks of lightning making an indiscernible pattern. The walls are bright white, with one loud accent wall in deep colors of either dark gray or black. It is eerily quiet inside, but it is still the afternoon and I imagine the ¡®betters¡¯ of the household are all tucked away in their coffins. I wonder if Henry has started sleeping in one yet. My guide brings me to the west wing of the house and opens the door to a dark room. I¡¯m immediately on edge, thinking it''s going to be some mysterious occult room, maybe a feeding den, something sinister¡­but I let out an impressed breath when I realize it¡¯s a home theater, full sized, IMAX. Why the fuck am I running around the city chasing these creatures when I should ask to join them and live a life of luxury? At least Billy would still be¡­no, I need to stop thinking about him. I have to keep my focus. ¡°Ho there, Centurion,¡± a voice sounds from the back of the theater. I look to the last row of seats and see a man sitting there. Well, not really a man, a vampire. Charlemagne does not fit the typical mold of an ancient vampire. He¡¯s not beautiful, he¡¯s not even remotely attractive. He has a bulbous nose, a round pockmarked face, piggy eyes, and thin hair that wilts sadly to his feeble shoulders. I can see a pot-belly from here and when he stands, I realize that for once I¡¯m taller than another man. It¡¯s his choice of fashion that drives everything out of my head for a merciful second though. A mesh shirt that does not hide the hair on his chest, a shiny, silver suit jacket that looks suitable for a Sci-Fi movie, skinny jeans that his belly hangs over slightly, and cowboy boots. I have to believe he¡¯s messing with me, because if this is legit how he walks around all the time, I don¡¯t know how anyone here remained sane. Or at least didn¡¯t tell him he looks completely ridiculous. ¡°What is it that you just had to see me about?¡± he asks, giving his thrall a look as if he¡¯s entertaining a child about to tell a wild story. ¡°Elena.¡± Charlemagne huffs. ¡°You could introduce yourself first.¡± ¡°You asked what I came here for.¡± ¡°Is etiquette truly dead? Are we all barbaric heathens? Snarling for our own needs and desires with nary a thought for gracious hosts and their taking time for one undeserving of it?¡± Oh dear God, this is exactly what I need right now. This pompous ass is doing a great job of pulling me from my dark grief, replacing it with incredulity instead. ¡°Okay. Hello then, Charlemagne, I¡¯m¡ª¡± Cut off when both Charlemagne and his thrall gasp loudly and turn away from me as if I made a rude gesture at them. ¡°No respect for one as distinguished as me?¡± Charlemagne splutters. ¡°Master, oh Master, I should have warned you!¡± the thrall exclaims. I consider walking out and abandoning this quest, but what¡¯s waiting for me out there is likely the Order, ready to arrest me again. ¡°...Sorry,¡± I say, my terse voice ignored as they carry on. Eventually they calm down and Charlemagne looks at me expectantly. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s waiting for my name or why I¡¯m here at this point. I¡¯m not even sure if I actually offended him. I would really love to deal with someone easy to read at some point during this case. But where Castillo was stoic, akin to looking at a statue, Charlemagne just looked like he was plotting something, a joke he couldn¡¯t wait to tell. ¡°I¡¯m Riley Av¡ª¡± ¡°Splendid!¡± ¡°...erline.¡± ¡°And I, dear sir, am Lord Leither Charlemagne,¡± he replies with a flourishing bow. Well, I give him points for the ¡®sir¡¯ and he winks knowingly. Shit, can he read my thoughts? I look at him more intently, but he still has that cheeky look that is quickly getting on my nerves. ¡°So, can we discuss impending doom now?¡± I ask. ¡°Poppycock! Impending doom,¡± he says with a mockingly gloomy note that has me frown. ¡°Try living through the Bubonic Plague and then talk to me about impending doom.¡± I could bring up recent pandemics and causes for concern, but I decide I don¡¯t want to spend more time here than necessary. ¡°Right. Okay. About Elena¡­¡± ¡°The wispy little thing? Enchantress?¡± ¡°Yes. I think that¡­¡± ¡°Lovely skin.¡± ¡°Sure. But also she may be our murderous mage.¡± This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. ¡°Riley,¡± Charlemagne¡¯s tone is way too familiar and my smile is tight as I try to fight down any semblance of hostility. ¡°Are you so ignorant? We vampires have a sense of magic, you know. A bit unfair, really, when you think about it¡­sensing that which we can never use? Anyway. Miss Elena was powerful, yes, but not very much more so than her burly companion, what was his name¡­ah! Ulysses, yes.¡± ¡°Is there no way she could hide her magic somehow? In a way that you or our Senior operatives would miss?¡± Charlemagne hums and haws for a little while, but the twinkle in his eye suggests he¡¯s had his answer the moment I asked the question. I cross my arms, impatience winning out over my decision to remain blithely calm. ¡°I suppose there could be a way,¡± the vampire replies. I wait, but he doesn¡¯t expand and I am in no mood to play these games. ¡°Stop dicking around and tell me! People have died and way more are going to follow!¡± Charlemagne looks appalled that I yelled at him, and he scoffs. ¡°Werewolves,¡± he says. ¡°Not people. Castillo¡¯s mongrels are worse than a cockroach infestation.¡± I want to hit him, but Chiaki took my weapons and I didn¡¯t have the foresight to make a trip to my basement and grab anything. Pretty stupid, in hindsight, because I¡¯m dealing with someone who could probably kill me with a single finger if he wanted to. ¡°For being as old as you are, you¡¯re incredibly short-sighted,¡± I seethe. ¡°The mage succeeds, the werewolves are forced to change, they slaughter a bunch of mundanes in the city and suddenly the whole world is on a hunt for supernatural creatures. You won¡¯t be safe.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Charlemagne replies, waving a dismissive hand. ¡°But¡­perhaps tit for tat? Quid pro quo? Answer me on some inquiries and I shall do the same for yours.¡± ¡°Are you fucking serious?¡± ¡°An odd choice for the first question¡­yes, I am serious. Now then, your presence here isn¡¯t sanctioned by the Order, is it?¡± I glower at him, but there¡¯s no point lying. We never send someone to the Moliere, or any of the vampire covens, alone. It¡¯s pairs at the least, and there¡¯s almost always an Enchanter as part of the pair. ¡°No, it isn¡¯t,¡± I reply, deciding that if he¡¯s going to be obtuse, then I will be too. ¡°Is there a way for a mage to hide their actual power?¡± Charlemagne smiles again. ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t answer!¡± ¡°I did, I said yes.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t help, dammit!¡± ¡°You should think about asking better questions. My turn. My senses tell me female, but my eyes tell me male. Do you not intend to medically transition?¡± I splutter, not expecting the wholly personal question that is absolutely none of his business. ¡°This has nothing to do with the case,¡± I snarl. ¡°I don¡¯t have to answer you about my personal business!¡± ¡°No, you don¡¯t have to, but if you don¡¯t wish to play anymore I must ask you to leave,¡± Charlemagne sighs. ¡°I didn¡¯t set time aside for this meeting, you see, and I have other things I really must attend.¡± I almost want to send him on his way, with a couple of choice curses, but his smugness makes me pause. He¡¯s doing this intentionally, trying to piss me off into leaving and that begs the question why. What does he have to gain by refusing to help me? Or does he really believe that the consequences won¡¯t reach him and the coven? I take a few, slow breaths, my stomach churning as I delve into details I haven¡¯t shared with anyone, not even Henry or Billy. ¡°I don''t know if I¡¯m chasing an identity to ignore my grief, or if this is really me,¡± I say stiffly. I have to be sure. Part of me is sure, the other part is still despairing in the dark. ¡°How would a mage hide their power from the likes of you or Senior Order members?¡± ¡°The clever use of conduits,¡± Charlemagne says easily, and I know he¡¯s not going to say more until I ask him to elaborate. Prick. ¡°Why do you think your identity is forged from grief?¡± ¡°Because I only labeled myself as trans after my daughter was stillborn. Because I don¡¯t know if I just needed something else to cling to other than her death, because I wanted to chase away my husband so I didn¡¯t have to feel guilty every time I looked at him about killing his child too. There, are you fucking happy? Can we move on from the subject already?¡± ¡°Curious,¡± Charlemagne is entirely unmoved, but he does look genuinely interested and that pisses me off even more. ¡°I¡¯m surprised someone of your psychological instability was allowed to join the Order.¡± ¡°I joined before all that happened,¡± I snap. ¡°Yet they allowed you to remain¡­thank you, for playing the game and telling me. It¡¯s useful to ¡®stay with the times¡¯ as they say. I think we can move on. The conduits, yes, a powerful mage could channel their magic continually into a conduit to elude detection, but it is a very fine balance you know. Give too much and they risk destroying themself, give too little and the likes of me or your superiors will sense something is amiss.¡± I¡¯m incensed enough that it takes effort to listen to what he¡¯s saying. I want to rip into him, pull out some of his pain to put on display, only to treat it as a social lesson. Inconsequential, only data. As much as I want to voice all this, I bottle it up, and force my mind to focus. The ultimate balm to all the shit I¡¯ve been through would be solving this case. A conduit. Conduits were mentioned before already, as a means to assist the mage in casting the powerful spells necessary to force the change and open Paradise. From my studies, I know that an Enchanter may carry an item ¨C such as a crystal pendant ¨C that holds some of their magic. This way, if they engage in a confrontation that depletes their magic, they have an extra boost if needed. As I understand it, however, it¡¯s a one and done deal. They give some of their magic, their magic replenishes after a bit, so it would be impossible for them to disguise their true capabilities for long. Unless¡­as Charlemagne hinted, the mage continually fed their magic into a conduit. ¡°But what could hold that much power?¡± I ask. ¡°I thought conduits were limited.¡± ¡°What powers magic?¡± Charlemagne asks. ¡°The¡­¡± I¡¯m about to say the Source, but I don¡¯t know how much this vampire knows about it, and I don¡¯t want to be the one to tell him. So, I think of other means. The werewolves, they were all found completely exsanguinated. ¡°Blood,¡± I finish. ¡°Precisely,¡± Charlemagne says brightly. ¡°Blood is life and life is a cycle. Your mage could continuously channel their power into the stolen blood without overwhelming it as a conduit, until such time they are ready to cast their wicked plot.¡± There¡¯s the solution to that part of my accusation. Elena may not register as exceptionally powerful, but if she¡¯s channeling into a conduit, that could be why. There¡¯s two questions I still have to answer. One, where is the conduit? Elena has barely left headquarters since this case started, but I can¡¯t believe she would risk hiding it there. I have no idea where she lives, and frankly, I don¡¯t think she would store it at her home either. Especially after my accusations. I may not be able to track it, but maybe a werewolf could. Or a vampire. My options are Henry or Brianna, and neither of them may jump to help me. The second question is how Castillo is involved in this. He may not be, but I can¡¯t ignore what Brianna said about the term Morra. I thought it was a name, I thought Maura, and that may be the case. If it isn¡¯t though¡­I could perhaps find more evidence during another talk with the bossman. Regardless of what path I choose to follow first, I need to make amends with Henry. ¡°May I use your phone?¡± Charlemagne looks at me suspiciously. ¡°Who do you intend to call?¡± he asks. ¡°No one from the Order,¡± I reply. When that doesn¡¯t prompt him to agree, I sigh. ¡°Henry Stone. He¡¯s another vampire.¡± ¡°If you say so,¡± Charlemagne shrugs and digs into his pocket to pull out a bedazzled phone and hands it to me. I¡¯m glad Henry¡¯s is one of the phone numbers I¡¯ve memorized, but the other one is Billy¡¯s and I feel my heart tighten painfully as the line rings. I¡¯m worried it¡¯s going to go to voicemail, but then it clicks and Henry¡¯s voice sounds on the other end, curious but polite as always with his soft ¡°hello?¡± ¡°Henry, it¡¯s Riley.¡± ¡°Riley?¡± am I imagining it or did his voice get colder? I can¡¯t lose him too, not today. ¡°Borrowed phone. Look, I¡¯m sorry about what I said, but¡­I need to meet you again, or at least ask you to contact Castillo and set up another meeting.¡± Charlemagne bristles and I realize I made an error having this discussion in front of him. Too late now. ¡°At least,¡± Henry sighs. ¡°Do you understand how dangerous that ¡®at least¡¯ is, Riley? Do you realize the position you continue to put me in?¡± ¡°I know,¡± I say, feeling desperate. ¡°Henry, I know. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll make it up to you, but please. I really need your help.¡± There¡¯s a long pause and I think for a horrific moment that he¡¯s going to hang up. I think he must be contemplating it, and I can¡¯t say I would really blame him, but I¡¯m flooded with relief when he exhales heavily. ¡°All right. Come to my place.¡± He does hang up then, with no farewell which is unlike him. I¡¯m on thin ice there, and I need to fix it. I know I do, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to until this threat is handled. I hand the phone back to Charlemagne, who looks suddenly serious. ¡°What?¡± I ask. ¡°Nothing,¡± he huffs. ¡°I must ask you to leave now, Centurion.¡± ¡°...Okay. I was going anyway. Thanks for¡­all that.¡± He doesn¡¯t answer, and I feel like the general attitude shifted to something sinister and hostile. I assume it has to do with Castillo, Charlemagne has done nothing to hide his scorn for werewolves. Maybe he¡¯s hoping that the mage will succeed, at least in forcing the turn. It would call for a hunt, I¡¯m sure, and then he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about the ¡®infestation¡¯ of wolves in the area anymore. I let myself out, suddenly glad I made it out of the house without any sort of confrontation. When I look back over my shoulder, I see Charlemagne standing at an ornate bay window on the second floor, watching me. ?????¡ã???¡ã????? Getting to Henry¡¯s apartment in Roslindale from Weston takes about 2 hours. By now evening is upon the city, and I¡¯m feeling the effects of my lack of caffeine for the day. I¡¯ve got a terrible headache, and I feel shaky. Still, I press on, and I knock on the door of his apartment and attempt a smile when he opens the door. I can¡¯t put to words how happy I am when he smiles in return, although I can see there¡¯s still distance in his gaze. He lets me in and I realize he¡¯s redecorated the place a bit. I¡¯ve been here a few times before, but not since he was turned. The windows are sporting blackout curtains now, and the walls are a darker color to, I assume, avoid shining bright any time the sun peaked in. ¡°Can I get you anything?¡± Henry asks. Something about being here, or being near him, makes me break. All the grief I¡¯m holding for Billy floods out of me, and while I promised myself on the way over I wouldn¡¯t put it on Henry, I can¡¯t help but throw my arms around him as I start to cry again. He stands there stationary for just a second before he hugs me tight. I don¡¯t know how long we stood there like this, but Henry doesn¡¯t once prompt me to move or speak. He just holds me while I wail and shake, as I become nothing but my misery. When it passes enough for me to pull away, Henry leads me to his living room and sits me down on the couch. He leaves me there for just a moment, fetching me tissues and the homemade blanket that my mom made for him when we were still married. He assures me he¡¯ll be back soon, and I hear him go to the nearby kitchen and start coffee. Considering he can¡¯t drink it, I can only assume he¡¯s left the coffee pot in place for visitors who can. It makes me curious as to who else comes here, but it¡¯s not my business and I¡¯m just grateful to be one of them. He returns with a steaming mug of coffee that I accept, my eyes stinging and my throat constricted as he sits on the other side of the couch. ¡°Talk to me,¡± he insists again. ¡°Billy¡¯s dead,¡± I begin. His shock makes him rigid as a board before the dismay shadows his features. ¡°I asked him to use the Whiteworm to concentrate on Elena and¡­he died. Sheldon says it was a Whiteworm overdose, but I think Elena realized what was happening and killed him from afar.¡± ¡°Oh Riley, I¡¯m so sorry,¡± Henry reaches out to touch my shoulder. ¡°The Order wants me arrested,¡± I continue, staring at my coffee. ¡°I wish I could say without merit, but maybe I have fucked up enough to warrant it. But I just saw Charlemagne, and he says there is a way that Elena could be hiding her potential to make herself seem like she can¡¯t be the one behind this.¡± Henry¡¯s shock returns, and there¡¯s some anger mixed in with his sadness, likely for my going to the Moliere Coven by myself. I¡¯m thankful that he doesn¡¯t berate me for it though, and I tell him what I learned while there. ¡°I saw Brianna recently too,¡± I add. ¡°I¡­fuck, this is going to take me a while.¡± ¡°Take your time.¡± I nod, and get my thoughts in order before I recount everything he¡¯s missed. I tell him about what Billy said while he was in his trance, about what Brianna mentioned with the term morra and how that was the reason I wanted Henry to arrange another meeting between me and Castillo. I tell him about going to see Charlemagne and how Elena could be channeling her power continuously into a conduit to hide right under the Order¡¯s nose. And when I¡¯ve told him everything important I finally break my gaze away from the mug to look at him. ¡°I don¡¯t deserve to ask you for anything,¡± I say. ¡°I treated you like shit back there, at the Common. I¡¯m sorry. I made it all about me, again. And I hope you know that no matter what you may be technically, you¡¯re more human than most. I¡¯m sorry, Henry. I should have never taken out my anger on you.¡± Henry lets these words sink in before he seeks my hand and gives it a squeeze. ¡°I accept your apology,¡± he replies. ¡°And I forgive you.¡± I smile wanly. ¡°I think Castillo¡¯s nickname for you is totally accurate, Saint Henry.¡± Henry shakes his head. ¡°Please don¡¯t put me on that sort of pedestal,¡± he says. ¡°Now then. You need to meet with Castillo again, yes? Sooner rather than later, I assume.¡± ¡°You assume correctly,¡± I reply. ¡°I hate to ask you to keep in touch with a mobster, but¡­desperate times.¡± ¡°Well, if we¡¯re lucky you¡¯ll get a good meal out of it anyway.¡± Chapter X: Time Out ¡°Okay, so Castillo said he can meet with you tomorrow morning at 8,¡± Henry says as he comes back into the living room. I frown over my cup of coffee. ¡°Does he not give a shit about his wolves?¡± ¡°I did hint that this was a¡­pressing matter, to which he said something in Spanish that I¡¯m quite sure was a curse; that yes, he did know, but he¡¯s also running a large organization and has a lot of pressing matters to attend to.¡± ¡°So, fuck you¡­basically,¡± I sigh. ¡°Basically,¡± Henry agrees. I shrug, finish my coffee and get to my feet. ¡°Thanks for setting it up, Henry.¡± ¡°Where are you going?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­I guess¡­¡± I fumble for some direction and feel that precipice sneaking up on me again, the one that leads to madness if I slip over it. ¡°Look for more clues. Go back to the market and see if anyone there knows more about Elena. Or Castillo.¡± ¡°Riley, sit back down,¡± Henry says. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because you need to take this moment to recover.¡± I scoff and look away from him, trying to pretend my breakdown never happened. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for that, Henry.¡± ¡°No? Because the next step in your investigation isn¡¯t happening until tomorrow anyway.¡± ¡°Are you holding me hostage here?¡± ¡°If that would make you stay¡­yes, you can say that.¡± ¡°You are the worst kidnapper, Henry Stone. Stop being so accommodating.¡± ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°Stop proving my point!¡± Henry doesn¡¯t entirely succeed with hiding a soft smile. ¡°Sorry,¡± he says again. I glare at him, but I don¡¯t feel it. I feel grateful, even if I can¡¯t find it in myself to admit it. I flop gracelessly to the couch again, crossing my arms and looking up at him. Henry nods, satisfied, and joins me. ¡°Do you remember¡­that awkward birthday dinner we had with your parents? It was the one after we got engaged. The one for your mother?¡± I can¡¯t immediately recall, because my mind is still overwhelmed with everything that¡¯s happened recently. Taking a minute to force myself out of the present, I eventually remember the night he¡¯s talking about and wince. ¡°I was so close to repressing that night. What is wrong with you? Making me relive it like this?¡± I ask, my chastisement entirely flippant. ¡°I¡¯d entertain you with a different story if I had one,¡± Henry replies. ¡°But you know all of them, and this is the one on my mind.¡± I sigh loudly. There are some stories I don¡¯t know, like the details around his being turned, but those are details even he doesn¡¯t know. From what he said when I asked after learning what happened to him, whoever sired him ambushed him, turned him, and abandoned him. He never got a good look at their face. No answers as to why, no clues to point him towards the multitude of questions he undoubtedly still has. I know it¡¯s a sore subject anyway, so I leave it alone. I know he¡¯s trying to distract me, more than that, he¡¯s trying to cheer me up. It¡¯s not working, not yet, but I appreciate the effort and don¡¯t demand that he change the subject. ¡°My mother was so mad at our gift,¡± I say, shaking my head. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­if you don¡¯t drop three paychecks¡¯ worth on her present, you¡¯re an asshole. But it was a nice watch!¡± ¡°It was,¡± Henry agrees. ¡°It matched her favorite jewelry set very nicely. I remember you spent a good amount of time hunting for one to fit.¡± ¡°Mhm, and she takes one look at it and doesn¡¯t even have the moral decency to just say thanks.¡± Henry leans back against the couch, eyes aimed at the ceiling but not really looking at it. I know he¡¯s focused on the image of that night. We were sitting outdoors at my mother¡¯s favorite restaurant, she ordered the most expensive wine - as she always did, my father sat idly by, having long learned it was better to be a yes-man around her, and to be himself when she wasn¡¯t around. Then there¡¯s me and Henry, thinking we finally got her a gift she wouldn¡¯t snub, that maybe she would warm up to Henry, hell¡­maybe she would even warm up to me, but the look on her face said we expected too much. ¡°What was it that she said?¡± Henry asks. ¡°You had all year and this is what you ended up with?¡± I reply. ¡°What, did you wait until yesterday? Do I mean so little?¡± I chuckle softly. ¡°And she was getting more and more hysterical about it, remember? Making sure other people heard her, as if hoping they¡¯d give us dirty looks when really, no one gave a shit because they just wanted to eat their fucking dinner in peace.¡± ¡°So you opted to say her real gift was our presence,¡± Henry continues. ¡°But not just our inactive presence¡­¡± ¡°God,¡± I groan, covering my face with my hands. ¡°I said we arranged that interpretive dance.¡± ¡°Not only did you say it, but you got up and started and expected me to act like I knew what you were doing.¡± ¡°Hey, you did pretty well¡­after about five minutes of me gyrating and looking like I was having a seizure to classical music.¡± ¡°While your mother looked on in horror.¡± ¡°And Dad just kept eating like it was any other night.¡± ¡°The climax was fitting,¡± Henry¡¯s laughing now. ¡°My double bird while you did jazz hands? Classic,¡± and my voice isn¡¯t so heavy anymore. ¡°She blamed you later.¡± ¡°Did she really?¡± ¡°Said you must be a bad influence and she wasn¡¯t fooled by your polite ¡®public persona¡¯,¡± I snicker. ¡°She couldn¡¯t fathom how something ¡®she made¡¯ could be so ungrateful otherwise.¡± ¡°Dear, sweet Jocelyn,¡± Henry chortles. ¡°She always made a night out interesting.¡± ¡°A study of narcissism.¡± ¡°Yes, that too.¡± I smile at him, not for the story. Or not just for the story, but for his continued ability to get me to smile even when I felt like I never would again. He returned it, and I felt the precipice receding again, like I was turning away from the dark and back towards the light. He patted his lap suddenly and I raise a questioning brow. ¡°Your feet,¡± he instructs. I know it should feel weird, reliving these old moments with him. But I think I¡¯ve had enough questioning and investigating and hardships that I don¡¯t let myself sabotage this. I kick my shoes off instead, swing my legs up to the couch and rest my feet in his lap. He still remembers what I like, and as he starts rubbing my feet, I feel like I¡¯m relaxing for the first time since this case started. ¡°It must have been a letdown,¡± I say softly. ¡°Having such a monstrous mother-in-law.¡± Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°Well, you did warn me about her before I met her,¡± Henry reminds me. ¡°And while it would have been nice, what we had was more than enough. In some ways, not having a family made it easier to bear her disapproval.¡± I know this is a sore subject too. He pretends it isn¡¯t, but there¡¯s always a look of sorrow when the topic goes to his childhood, to his family. Sorrow, and sometimes I can¡¯t help but think I see fear too. Then again, I imagine foster homes must be scary for a variety of reasons, none of which I ever want to force him to relive unless he says he wants to. ¡°I¡¯m always an advocate for choosing family anyway,¡± I say. ¡°Which, you¡¯re still part of by the way.¡± ¡°As you¡¯re mine.¡± ¡°So was Billy,¡± I continue, and now I don¡¯t bother holding back tears. I¡¯m not sobbing like when I got here, just letting them flow, knowing I won¡¯t be judged. ¡°He was such a fun bastard. I wish you got to spend more time with him.¡± ¡°Me too,¡± Henry says. ¡°He never treated me differently for being a vampire. I remember when I met him before¡­and figured after the turn, he would be like, well¡­most of the Order.¡± ¡°Billy never let what someone was cloud his judgment,¡± I reply. ¡°It was always about who they were. And man, I¡¯ll tell you he was never afraid to express his opinion either. I know you never met Carver, but trust me when I say she¡¯s still terrifying¡­anyway, Billy didn¡¯t care about giving her a ton of shit. I think he was the only one who wasn¡¯t afraid of her, and I think she loved that about him. I bet she wishes more of us were like that, honestly. No one could pull it off like Billy though.¡± ¡°He¡¯s the one who first initiated you to the Order, right?¡± ¡°Yeah. Sentinels tend to get visions of potential Centurions and scope them out. When I chased down a werewolf who mugged me and kicked her ass, I guess that put me in the ¡®yes¡¯ category. Imagine my surprise learning werewolves existed, and that I just knocked one out with a handbag.¡± ¡°I¡¯m still surprised you managed to keep your job from me so well,¡± Henry admits. ¡°Carrying on like you were in some office job, private security - need-to-know type of business. How you didn¡¯t blurt it out was very impressive.¡± ¡°I thought you might think I was insane and run,¡± I tease, wiggling my toes at him. ¡°Plus, it was better to keep you in the dark. Or, at least I thought it was. If you did believe me if I told you, you¡¯d spend the rest of your life looking for it. But then¡­I suppose it found you anyway.¡± ¡°It did,¡± Henry muses. ¡°Entirely outside your control, may I add.¡± I hope he¡¯s right, and think that he¡¯s probably right. Vampires may not be our biggest fans, but I¡¯ve never made a personal enemy out of one. Nothing to suggest that turning Henry was payback for my actions. It still bothers me, because Henry never deserved something like this. He deserved to be happy, to settle down and raise a family like he wanted. Of course, looking at him and interacting with him, you¡¯d never know he was burdened with so much. Sometimes I¡¯m very envious of his perpetual optimism. ¡°I hope I can end this tomorrow,¡± I say quietly after we spend some time in a comfortable silence. ¡°I don¡¯t know what else Castillo knows, but I feel like¡­I¡¯m so close, you know?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s hope he¡¯ll cooperate,¡± Henry replies. ¡°There is too much on the line for anyone to be stubborn.¡± ¡°I know he said in the morning, but any chance I can convince you to come with me?¡± ¡°Sometimes, I think you are my greatest threat, Mr. Averline,¡± Henry groans. ¡°I¡¯ve been out in the sun more times than a vampire should.¡± ¡°But your fifteen layers are very chic,¡± I venture. ¡°You¡¯ll be a trendsetter before long, just you wait.¡± ¡°I think I¡¯d prefer to skip the attention¡­and the potential for bursting into flames.¡± I know he¡¯s joking, although the risk is very real, but even the briefest thought of losing him is far too much after Billy, and I shake my head. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll catch you up on what happened afterwards.¡± ¡°Riley¡ª¡± ¡°No, Henry. I mean it,¡± I smile at him. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± He looks like he wants to argue, but maybe it¡¯s the fact I¡¯m smiling instead of crying that has him push down any retorts. He nods, a bit stiffly, but in agreement anyway, and we fall into another moment of silence. ?????¡ã???¡ã???? I must have fallen asleep. When I wake up, it¡¯s dark in the apartment and Henry is no longer on the couch. Amendment; I¡¯m no longer on the couch. I¡¯m in a bed and I sit up slowly and scratch at my head, looking around blearily as I try to get my bearings. I¡¯m still fully dressed, and I can feel the press of my jean¡¯s seams against my skin as I get out of bed. I leave the bedroom and return to the living room, which is washed in shifting colors. Henry¡¯s on the couch, watching TV. It¡¯s set at such a low volume I can barely hear it, but I assume for him he can hear it just fine. At least there are some perks to the vampire thing. When he sees me, he turns off the television. ¡°Good morning,¡± he says. ¡°Morning,¡± I yawn. ¡°What time is it?¡± ¡°Nearly 5. I¡¯m glad you were able to sleep.¡± ¡°You and me both,¡± I agree. Henry gets up from the couch and beckons me to come with him to the kitchen. He gestures to the small, square table equipped with only two chairs and I take a seat. I watch him curiously, and can¡¯t shake the feeling that I¡¯ve fallen into a memory from happier times. Things are different, of course, so very different¡­but right now, I permit myself to be selfish and enjoy the morning for what it is. His kitchen is still equipped with all the things you¡¯d expect to find in one; a fridge, stove, countertops and the like, but when he opens the fridge I notice it¡¯s nearly entirely bare. No surprise, since he can¡¯t eat anymore. It does leave me wondering¡­ ¡°What¡¯s up with the food?¡± I ask, hoping it doesn¡¯t come off as tactless as it suddenly feels. ¡°There¡¯s a little grocer nearby, I stopped by after you fell asleep. I don¡¯t trust that you¡¯ve eaten a decent meal lately.¡± ¡°You¡­stocked up for me?¡± ¡°Well, stocked up for a big breakfast at least.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± He busies himself with cooking, putting on a pot of coffee, getting pans out and ingredients. I see a carton of eggs and a few different vegetables spread out on the counter. ¡°Can I help you at all?¡± I ask. ¡°Please no,¡± Henry quips. ¡°That dinner with your mother was not our only misadventure with food, remember?¡± ¡°If you¡¯re talking about the oatmeal¡­that was one time,¡± I huff. ¡°You set the microwave on fire. With instant oatmeal.¡± ¡°The house smelled like cookies though, so that was an unexpected bonus.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t argue with you there,¡± Henry concedes. ¡°But truly, I just want you to relax, Riley.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡± And I do, though now that I¡¯m a little more awake my mind is starting to race again. Primarily, it races around Castillo and our upcoming meeting. I have no idea how a syndicate boss, with a reputation for being guarded about his personal life and horrifically violent, is going to react to my probing questions. If he did have some kind of connection to Elena, one that didn¡¯t bother him, I would think he might mention it the first time we spoke. Since he didn¡¯t, there¡¯s only two other options; he never knew her, or he did and doesn¡¯t want me to know about it. I¡¯m adamant about not asking Henry for backup, given the time we¡¯re meeting (and I wonder if Castillo arranged for that time on purpose), but I am nervous about going back there alone. I¡¯ll have no Order operatives on call, no one else will even know I¡¯m there. Still, I have to hope that someone as successful as Castillo will understand that whatever shit he wants to keep from me isn¡¯t more important than stopping the mage. I frown inwardly, noting that after some proper rest my mind isn¡¯t automatically labeling said mage as Elena. I¡¯m not ready to say I¡¯m wrong, but my conviction is no longer fueled by the maniacal torment that seized me after my meeting with Vasilisa. ¡°Here you go,¡± Henry¡¯s voice breaks me from my thoughts as he sets a cup of coffee down in front of me. ¡°You are an angel.¡± ¡°I¡¯d take wings over fangs, come to think of it,¡± Henry replies. ¡°Kind of noticeable, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°They would be retractable.¡± ¡°Ah, of course. Stupid of me not to realize that off the bat.¡± Henry laughs softly. ¡°Let¡¯s blame your lack of caffeine,¡± he suggests before returning to the stove. Now that I¡¯m not deep in thought, I hear the sizzling of food cooking and catch the smell of it too. My stomach growls loudly, and I try to remember the last time I really ate anything. It may have been at Castillo¡¯s¡­no wonder my stomach feels like it¡¯s trying to eat itself. I stay in the moment as I sip at my coffee, watching Henry as he makes an omelet for me. He used to cook for me in the mornings, when he was human. I¡¯d wake up and come out to a hearty meal waiting for me before going to headquarters. Sometimes he¡¯d be there to eat with me, other times he¡¯d have left for work himself - leaving a note behind to wish me a good day. It makes me happy that that hasn¡¯t changed, that he¡¯s still Henry even after everything. ¡°What?¡± he asks. I blink. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°You¡¯re staring at me rather intensely,¡± he points out, expertly flipping the omelet from the pan to a plate. ¡°I¡¯m just getting my fill of a good sight before diving back into the shit,¡± I say with a grin. The grin fades and I look down into my coffee. ¡°Thank you for all this, Henry. You pulled me back. Again.¡± ¡°I¡¯m only glad I still have the ability to do so.¡± He comes over and leaves the plate for me, sitting in the other chair across the table. I look up at him, and there¡¯s a moment where I just want to pull him in and feel his arms around me again. My mind stutters around a platonic hug versus a more intimate moment, but I quickly dismiss the latter. I don¡¯t want to ruin this moment. I don¡¯t want to do anything but enjoy it as it is. Chapter XI: The Storm Breaks The house looms above me, its brick facade looks suddenly angry, like it''s flushed and waiting to rage against me. It doesn¡¯t, of course. It¡¯s still just the impressive home that it was the first time I came here. All the same, I¡¯m nervous, and I¡¯m hoping that Castillo¡¯s civil hosting will be as top notch as it was when we met. I approach the door and knock, and like before it opens to reveal the old housekeeper. She greets me curtly and leads me into the house. This time we don¡¯t go to the kitchen, instead she slowly makes her way up the grand staircase and I¡¯m reminded again of being in a museum. Oil paintings with ornate frames are on the walls, intricate vases and colorful flowers are artistically arranged to bring a splash of vibrant color without looking too busy. At the end of the hall is a set of double doors, which the housekeeper opens to reveal a large office. There¡¯s a lot of bookcases in here, as well as a wall that is decorated with monitors, displaying live feeds in various places that I don¡¯t recognize. At the far end of the room is Castillo¡¯s desk, which has a computer that would probably take me years to afford and a rich, leather chair that looks as though it¡¯s hardly used. I suppose he doesn¡¯t do much business at home. Behind the desk is a gorgeous bay window, looking out to the city. The only problem is¡­Castillo isn''t here. ¡°Where is he?¡± I ask the housekeeper. She doesn¡¯t respond to me verbally, she walks to the desk and picks up a piece of paper and waves it at me. Bewildered, I go over to her and take the document, my eyes widening as I read it. It doesn¡¯t concern you. It never concerned you. It¡¯ll be over soon. ¡ªA. Castillo ¡°What the fuck?!¡± I shout. I turn on the housekeeper, seething and clutching the letter in a clenched fist. ¡°What is this? Where the fuck is he?¡± ¡°You go,¡± she admonishes me. ¡°No! I won¡¯t just go! Not until you tell me where he is!¡± ¡°No s¨¦.¡± ¡°Fuck!¡± I shout again, but it doesn¡¯t make me feel any better. The housekeeper is trying to blatantly hint I need to leave, but I ignore her, looking around desperately for a phone. There isn¡¯t one in the office, so brushing past the grumbling housekeeper, I expand my search with hurried steps. I eventually find a landline in a secondary, smaller office on the first floor. I seize it and punch in Henry¡¯s number, my blood boiling. I don¡¯t know exactly how Castillo fits into things, whether he¡¯s helping Elena or not, but I do think this whole ¡®let¡¯s meet in the morning¡¯ was a ploy to put several hours between us. He has such a big head start, and I don¡¯t know his routine well enough to guess where he might be. Not to mention his strategy keeps Henry from being a viable option for help, unless I want to risk his life again. ¡°Come on,¡± I groan when the line keeps ringing. I think it¡¯s going to go to voicemail and I think I¡¯m going to tear my hair out if it does, but then Henry answers. ¡°Riley?¡± ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s me. We¡¯ve been set up, Castillo isn¡¯t fucking here! I don¡¯t know where he went, but it has to do with the mage, with Elena. I need you to call Brianna so she can track him down with me!¡± ¡°I¡­you think she¡¯ll help you against her boss?¡± Henry asks. Before I can answer, there¡¯s a sudden shudder, like the house shivered. My brows furrow, and I¡¯m about to decide I imagined it when the house shakes instead. I curse and reach out for the desk to steady myself, listening to the chimes of crystal from the chandelier in the hall as they collide, of delicate objects shattering, and the thud of some heavy objects falling over upstairs. ¡°What the hell? Was that¡­an earthquake?¡± I ask as the trembling subsides. ¡°You felt it too?¡± Henry asks. ¡°Yeah¡­shit, Boston isn¡¯t exactly known for earthquakes, I think that was the spell! Fuck¡­I think it¡¯s happening, Henry! You got to call Brianna and have her meet me here. I don¡¯t care what you have to tell her, just get her here!¡± ¡°Alright!¡± I hang up and leave the study, seeking the housekeeper to make sure she didn¡¯t get hurt in the tremor. I find her in the kitchen, looking somewhat dazed at the mess of broken plates on the floor, but otherwise unharmed. I can¡¯t sit still for the life of me, the huge house feels small suddenly and unable to contain me. So I wander the halls without really taking the time to observe it. My anxiety makes my hands twitch slightly, my chest is tight, and I feel cold sweat beading between my shoulder blades. Eventually I make my way back to the kitchen, where the housekeeper has retrieved a broom and dustpan and is cleaning the mess of plates. I convince her, quite hostilely, to give me the broom so I can do it, needing something to occupy myself with. I¡¯ve probably swept every last ounce of dust from the kitchen when the door opens. I drop the broom and rush to the foyer, where Brianna is coming in. She looks scared. ¡°You felt it?¡± I ask. ¡°Yeah, kinda hard not to!¡± she exclaims. ¡°What the hell do you need me here for?¡± Damn, Henry didn¡¯t tell her then. She may not have come over if he had, but still. ¡°I need you to track down Castillo.¡± ¡°Excuse me?¡± I hand her the highly crumpled letter I had shoved in my pocket earlier. She reads it over and frowns at me. ¡°You want me to betray my boss?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not about betrayal!¡± I snap. ¡°It¡¯s about saving your pack! It¡¯s about keeping things as they are, and not with humans knowing their neighbor might be a goddamn werewolf!¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know him!¡± ¡°Castillo? I¡¯ve heard the stories. I know he¡¯s a man at peace with tearing other people apart, literally. But you have to believe the risk of standing against him still doesn¡¯t measure to the consequences of letting this spell go forward!¡± ¡°He¡¯s not just bad!¡± Brianna¡¯s eyes are watery, and I assume it¡¯s the fear of what Castillo would do to her, but that doesn¡¯t match up to what she¡¯s saying. ¡°He saved me! He took me in! My mother was forced into prostitution when she trusted the wrong asshole about ¡®steady work.¡¯ She was only looking for work to take care of me! That same asshole wanted to sell me off, he didn¡¯t give a shit I was just a kid. He made the mistake of trying to sell me to Castillo. Castillo killed that motherfucker and took in me and my mom! When she died¡­he looked after me!¡± I really wish I didn¡¯t need to keep putting her in these awful situations. I couldn¡¯t have known what Castillo did for her, but I should have inferred their bond was more than just professional. She told me he took her in at seven, but I figure it was for the simple fact of more numbers for his syndicate. Get them young, keep their loyalty. And that may be the case with Brianna, but Castillo earned her loyalty through actions. She¡¯s not chasing a delusion of him being more than what the Order sees him as; a heartless, violent criminal. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I reply. ¡°I am. But you know what¡¯s at stake here.¡± ¡°Fuck you!¡± she snaps. ¡°You know I¡¯m not working under the Order¡¯s jurisdiction here!¡± I argue. ¡°I¡¯m not doing this to fuck over your boss! For fuck¡¯s sake I¡¯m trying to keep this city from falling apart!¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°I know!¡± she screams. ¡°I know I have to help you! Don¡¯t expect me to feel fucking noble about it though!¡± She storms off upstairs and I follow her, not daring to say anything. She goes to Castillo¡¯s bedroom, which is a picture of luxury that¡¯s so impressive I can¡¯t help but notice it even with everything going on. She storms over to the bed and grabs one of his pillows, bringing it up to her face and inhaling. Capturing the scent, she tosses the pillow back to its place and brushes roughly past me. ¡°Keep up,¡± she orders, heading back down the stairs. ?????¡ã???¡ã????? I can feel the gathering of magic when we get outside. Centurions typically can¡¯t do that on their own, our pendants are what tip us off to the presence of various supernatural types. So the fact I can feel it so easily means we¡¯re close to failure. It¡¯s dense, like a fog pressing in around me. It¡¯s warm too, and slightly electrifying, like ripples of a current caressing the skin. As Brianna leads, I observe the faces of the mundanes going about their normal day. Even they can feel it. I see it in the expressions on their features, that sense that something is wrong, but they¡¯ve no idea what. I almost envy them, they could chalk it up to ¡®one of those days¡¯, instead of knowing that time¡¯s almost out. I feel jittery, like I want to sprint to wherever Castillo is, but we aren¡¯t even moving that quickly. I know Brianna needs to pay attention to whatever trail she can find, and Boston is full of smells that have to be interfering, but I¡¯m getting more and more antsy with each passing second. ¡°So¡­Castillo is kind of a father figure to you?¡± I ask after we¡¯re a couple miles from the house. ¡°Yeah,¡± Brianna replies tersely. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize there was¡­that sort of thing going on here,¡± I say, fumbling slightly because it¡¯s a highly personal subject and I probably shouldn¡¯t be bringing it up. Fucking nerves, they always make me put my foot in my mouth. ¡°Human trafficking?¡± Brianna asks, looking over her shoulder at me. Her expression is cold. ¡°It¡¯s everywhere, dumbass. Even here, even if the state won¡¯t ever make noise about it¡­anyway, it was back in LA though. I think he¡¯d just recently come up from Mexico. California didn¡¯t suit him and when he started going east, I went with him.¡± ¡°Did he¡­turn you into a werewolf?¡± I ask. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Was it¡­on purpose?¡± ¡°I asked him to,¡± she says. ¡°Quit grilling me, I¡¯m trying to fucking concentrate.¡± I force myself to shut up, but I¡¯m more curious than ever about her story now. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll ever be friendly enough for her to continue it though, or fill in the multitude of gaps left behind. We continue walking until we get to the nearest set of stairs that lead underground. Brianna lets out an annoyed sound, more wolf than human, and turns to face me. ¡°I can¡¯t track him through that! He got on a train, he must¡¯ve, but I won¡¯t be able to pick out which one or where he got off or anything like that! Too many scents¡­¡± ¡°Shit,¡± I groan. ¡°Yeah, shit,¡± she agrees. There¡¯s another tremor that shakes the street. It¡¯s not as strong as the first one, but people around us gasp and shout in surprise. A few duck down, others grab onto street lamps or guardrails. A building chorus of confusion sounds, the mingled notes of frightened people becoming higher than the sound of traffic. ¡°Is there any special place you can think of that he might go to?¡± I ask Brianna desperately. ¡°Somewhere¡­I don¡¯t know, he conducts illegal business? Executions? Drug deals?¡± Her eyes widen and she takes off down the stairs towards the subway station. I run after her and I¡¯m glad to see she¡¯s not moving fast enough to try and lose me, and when I catch up to her, we run together through the turnstiles and to the platform. Brianna takes a quick look at the map and hurries to the side where the train we need is set to pull in in a minute. ¡°We¡¯re going to switch to the red line at Park Street Station, ride that over to South Station, then haul ass on the bus line to South End,¡± Brianna explains as one of the trains comes roaring in. ¡°Back to Southie,¡± I murmur. ¡°Just make sure you get on a bus going on the silver line, okay? In case this crowd or something else separates us. Look for Freight Forward in the Semis Loading Docks.¡± ¡°Got it.¡± The train ride is agony. The T zips along at a fair speed, but today it seems sluggish. I imagine its precautionary on the MBTA¡¯s side, after those quakes. Reduce speed, prepare for station-wide shut down if needs be. The last thing we need right now is for the train to automatically stop in one of these dark, dark tunnels on account of an earthquake that isn¡¯t an earthquake. It doesn¡¯t, and we¡¯re able to switch lines and continue towards South Station without too much hassle. ¡°Are you remembering to breathe?¡± Brianna asks me, voice strained, as the train lumbers onwards. ¡°No,¡± I admit. My chest feels too tight to take in air, and my mind is whirling so much I must have resigned myself to ignoring that important task. ¡°You won¡¯t help anyone if you pass out and get carted to the hospital, dumbass.¡± ¡°True enough.¡± She looks as wound up as I feel. There¡¯s another layer to this for her, and that layer is her bond with Castillo. I have no doubt that whatever his involvement in this is, Brianna will be prepared to defend him. Which means we may have a problem in the very near future, because I want to bring down anyone who would risk the entire city¡¯s populace. I can¡¯t think about whether I¡¯m going to have a violent confrontation with Brianna or not, I have to focus on the priority. Stop the spell. We¡¯re belched from the underground with the surge of people also getting off at South Station. I¡¯m momentarily separated from Brianna due to the crowd and think, for that fleeting moment, that she intentionally meant to lose me. Then I see her a few feet away, waving at me to catch my attention. I hurry to her, and we follow the signs for the bus stations. The bus terminal is about a two minute walk down Atlantic Avenue, and when we leave the train station, we¡¯re met with darkening skies. It looks like a storm rolling in, but I know this is no natural weather event. This is more signs that we¡¯re dangerously low on time. Brianna and I glance at each other, and pick up the pace, jogging the rest of the way to the bus terminal and ignoring the indignant huffs and curses from the people we rush past. I¡¯m not worried about people thinking I¡¯m an asshole as I push past them to get to the bus first. Brianna is right there with me, so at least I¡¯ll have backup if anyone gets too confrontational about it. No one does, and I can see that everyone still has that sense that something isn¡¯t right. Eyes continually drift up towards the sky, which is now full of clouds that are too dark to be normal. I can hear people muttering to one another, asking if there¡¯s supposed to be rain today, mentioning the earthquakes, joking but not joking about wishing they stayed home today. I wish I could tell them that I¡¯m trying to settle things, to ease their obvious discomfort, but I don¡¯t think I can formulate words right now, and I¡¯m not sure if I could live up to that reassurance. Brianna¡¯s cell trills as the bus we¡¯re on pulls away from the station to head to South End. ¡°It¡¯s Henry,¡± she tells me when she pulls it from her pocket. She accepts the call and brings the phone up to her ear. ¡°Hey. Yeah¡­what is with you and Riley asking the obvious? Of course I see the fucking sky. Just like I felt those tremors¡­We¡¯re going to South End, to the Semis Loading Docks, past all the cruise ports. Yeah. Okay. Yeah, I¡¯ll let him know.¡± She hangs up and looks at me. ¡°He¡¯s going to come too, it¡¯s dark enough for him.¡± I nod, both reluctant to have him join us and relieved that he is. ¡°What makes you think Castillo is going to be here?¡± I ask as the bus nears our destination. ¡°You said think of a place where he conducts business,¡± Brianna replies. ¡°And what kind of business does he do here?¡± ¡°None of yours.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± We exit the bus when it reaches the stop between the intersection of Drydrock Ave and Black Falcon Ave. Breaking free of the small crowd of other transit travelers, we head towards the large pier that runs parallel to a commercial channel. There¡¯s no giant cruise ships in port at the moment, so the area is less busy than it would have been otherwise. It smells like the ocean; briny, seaweedy, that sulfuric kind of smell of low tide. It also smells like gasoline on account of the ships and the large number of 18 wheelers that load up the freight from ships to then transport through their distribution routes. The sky is even darker here, roiling clouds of black with a tint of purplish-green, making me think of a bruise. As if the spell was causing physical damage to the sky. I think about Vasilisa¡¯s story and think that may be what¡¯s actually happening. Not good. The buildings here aren¡¯t so tall, but they are long. It¡¯s a weird mix, mostly warehouses for shipping, but there¡¯s the occasional office and cafe thrown in there too. Brianna heads straight for one of the many nondescript businesses and as we near the door, I feel that thrum of magic more clearly. I pause and Brianna does too, looking askance at me over her shoulder. There¡¯s an intensity to her eyes that I¡¯ve never seen before, and I once again prepare myself for clashing with her in the very near future. ¡°I¡¯m going to do whatever I have to do here,¡± I warn her. ¡°Nothing is more important than stopping this spell from being completed. Right now¡­I suspect Elena is pulling in all the power she¡¯s been keeping in her conduits, the blood of your wolves. She¡¯s going to use that to force the change, and in the resulting bloodshed, get enough power to open Paradise. I get that Castillo is important to you, but if he¡¯s helping her¡­¡± ¡°He wouldn¡¯t sacrifice his pack,¡± Brianna snaps. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t risk destroying everything he¡¯s built by having his wolves forced to change in front of a city of mundanes!¡± I feel my jaw tighten and look at her severely. ¡°If he¡¯s helping her, I will stop him.¡± She has to know, she has to be aware of how far I¡¯m going to go. She has to trust that in the end¡­it¡¯s for the better. Despite her scowl, I think the message gets through. And I have to trust her too, that she won¡¯t turn on me to defend Castillo if it comes down to it. Judging by the hatred in her eyes¡­that won¡¯t be an issue. She¡¯ll side with saving the pack over saving the boss, but I doubt she¡¯ll ever speak to me again afterwards if things go the way I¡¯m dreading. Chapter XII: Clash There¡¯s no more time to lose, no more time to chase answers or try to put all the pieces together. The spell is happening now, and I¡¯m the only one here who can do something about it. Maybe Brianna helps me, maybe she doesn¡¯t, that¡¯s one of those things I can¡¯t focus on. Not until I have to. Instead I enter the building and gasp as the magic within tries to rip my breath away. The interior is a warehouse, some kind of storage facility not unlike how I imagine an Amazon fulfillment center looks like. Stacks of boxes and crates up to the ceiling in neat rows¡­at least by the entrance that¡¯s the case, further back I can see some of these towering monoliths have been tipped over, spilling an assortment of basic goods that I don¡¯t doubt are hiding something more malicious. The Order knows Castillo deals in drugs and weapons, and this place¡­I get the feeling some of those weapons are tested. There¡¯s a lingering air of terror and death here, but it pales in comparison to the force I witness right in front of my eyes. There¡¯s Castillo, his lips curled back and his eyes blazing. There¡¯s blood coursing down the side of his face and his dark shirt is ripped in several places, wet in others where he¡¯s bleeding from other injuries. Across from him is Elena, but I hardly recognize her for the expression on her face. Her long hair billows all around her as if she¡¯s underwater, and there¡¯s a manic fury twisting her usually pleasant features. Magic swirls around her in visible color, beautiful but so unnatural it¡¯s horrifying too. My eyes want to refuse it, they want to ignore how the twisting tendrils resemble some Lovecraftian beast that looks as though it longs to devour both Elena and Castillo. And me¡­and the world. I hear a bark-like shout and see that Castillo¡¯s strike force is here too. Judging by the numbers, it¡¯s the entire South End group. One of them is dead, and is little more than a smear of blood and viscera against the floor where Elena must have hit him with some sort of spell. The others stalk around the pair, looking for an opening or waiting for an order from Castillo. They notice me and Brianna, and I¡¯m sure Castillo does too but he¡¯s not taking his eyes off of Elena. She stops looking at him though, and her expression breaks when she sees me and tears begin to flow down her face. ¡°No! No! Don¡¯t try to stop me!¡± she screams. ¡°YOU DON¡¯T KNOW WHAT YOU¡¯RE DOING!¡± I roar over the growing din. The magic sounds like a twister, gathering strength. ¡°I DO!¡± she screams right back. Castillo lunges, but despite her emotional state Elena isn¡¯t letting her guard down. She brings a hand up and the werewolf¡¯s large hand strikes a barrier instead of her face before he¡¯s forced back a few feet. The colors swirling around Elena have shifted to a blood red, and I realize it¡¯s not just the colors of her tangible magic¡­it¡¯s the blood of werewolves she¡¯s killed over time, flowing into her and returning her magic to its full state. The air feels like it¡¯s being sucked from the room, a vicious wind buffets all of us inside the warehouse and I hear thunder rumbling overhead. Elena is chanting, that bestial look on her face again while tears continue to flow, and suddenly one of the wolves on the strike team yelps and collapses. Brianna and I turn to the burly female, who is convulsing on the floor. My eyes widen as the snap of bone cracks through the space as loud as the thunder overhead, and I see fur rippling across the werewolf¡¯s flesh. ¡°Fuck! Fuck! How do we stop this!¡± I yell. ¡°We got to kill that bitch!¡± Brianna shouts. I don¡¯t know how to reach Elena though! The barrier will keep me back, I have no weapons to speak of and if the strike force is turning then that guarantees more of the pack in the city is also being forced into the change. ¡°ELENA, PLEASE!¡± ¡°I HAVE TO!¡± And those colors, they collect into a single mass and then I see shapes in it. Unmistakable shapes. I see Elena, recognizing her for her hair. Her face in the reflection eerily resembles a mournful theater mask, the type denoting a tragedy. She clutches at a lifeless form, a girl with no expression at all that I know intuitively means she is no more. And standing with this grieving mother is Castillo, his reflective mask stoic as his true face normally is. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­understand,¡± I mutter, but I do. I know I do. I just don¡¯t want to admit it. ¡°Isabella, my Isabella¡­our Isabella,¡± plaintive eyes flick to Castillo before returning to me. ¡°She was killed, she was taken! She should still be here!¡± Vasilisa spoke of a story that echoed my own, of the downfall of me and Henry when we lost our little girl. Yet the story wasn¡¯t about us, she was telling me about Elena and Castillo. How they met, how they fell in love, these are questions far back in my mind, the present has all of us too close to destruction to wonder about it. ¡°You taint her memory,¡± Castillo growled. ¡°You defile it!¡± ¡°I won¡¯t let you stop me anymore!¡± Elena shrieks. ¡°You should know more than anyone else what I¡¯m doing, Riley! I can bring her back! I can open the door to Paradise and bring my little girl back!¡± ¡°You can¡¯t!¡± I feel a piece of me shattering when I say it, but I have to stay firm. ¡°Elena, you can¡¯t! If you fail we¡¯re all dead! If you succeed we¡¯re dead!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she says with a gut-wrenching smile. ¡°I want my family back, my husband, my daughter¡­I need them back.¡± I feel like the strides I made to stabilize my own mind have evaporated. I think about what I would do¡­if I could bring Amelia back, if I could restore the family I lost with her. Elena¡¯s right, I understand why she wants to do this. I sympathize with her, and for a split second I want to ask if she can bring Amelia back too, to bring them both back. One, agonizing second where I relish the possibility before I shove that wish down and lock it away. ¡°It¡¯s not worth it!¡± I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m telling her, or myself. If she hears me, she makes no indication of it. I¡¯m about to charge and try my chances when the door is pulled off the hinges and a figure comes rushing in. I raise my fists, prepared for anything¡­except for Henry, who skids to a halt by me and Brianna. ¡°Henry??¡± ¡°Take this!¡± Henry exclaims, handing me a dark bag that clunks loudly. ¡°I went by your place, I got some of your gear!¡± God Bless Henry Stone and his tactful mind during a major crisis. I drop the bag, rip it open and quickly grab the 50 caliber handgun, and two enchanted daggers. The gun is equipped with silver bullets, which will do some damage to Elena, though not as much as it would a wolf¡­which, given the strike team is all mid-change by now, might be exactly what I need it for. I hate that it¡¯s coming to this. I hate that I still want to ask Elena to fulfill my wish to bring me back Amelia. ¡°Aim for the legs if one goes for you! Or somewhere a bullet can easily pass through!¡± Brianna snarls at me. ¡°You don¡¯t have to go for the fatal blow first!¡± ¡°Why aren¡¯t you changing?¡± ¡°Willpower, dumbass! Find a way to that witch!¡± and I can tell by her tone that even the strongest willpower won¡¯t help her forever. I can see the strain in her face, and the slight fear in her eyes. Castillo also isn¡¯t changing yet, but instead looking for a means to break through Elena¡¯s barrier. I¡¯m about to join him when the burley female werewolf howls and lunges for me. I curse and pivot, avoiding the tackle that would undoubtedly lead to my throat being torn out. I square off against the werewolf and raise the gun, but before I can fire, Henry¡¯s there delivering a solid punch right to the beast¡¯s chest. I know, theoretically, that Henry is exceptionally strong since becoming a vampire but I¡¯ve never seen it so blatantly. That wolf goes crashing back through the warehouse, a cacophony of heavy crates and boxes tumbling down makes me hope she¡¯ll be pinned and unable to rejoin the fight. There¡¯s a snarl behind me and I duck right in time not to be mauled. This wolf didn¡¯t lunge with such gusto, however, and is able to jump nimbly aside to strike again with a large clawed hand. I bend backwards, grounding my feet to keep my balance, and aim the gun at the wolf¡¯s leg. I shoot and the werewolf yelps as blood bursts from the injury. The silver will work fast, making the leg all but paralyzed. But still dangerous if I stay too close, evident by the way he launched forward and nearly sank his teeth around my ankle. In the corner of my eye, I see Brianna engaged with one of the others. She¡¯s obviously aiming for a knockout, but then she falls to her knees with a cry. ¡°B-boss,¡± she groans. The pack member she¡¯d been fighting barks and rushes towards her, the forced change leaving nothing but the raging beast behind. To him, Brianna is an enemy that needs to be destroyed rather than the second-in-command. Before me or Henry can head the rabid creature off, Castillo is there. He grabs the beast by the throat and actually lifts it before slamming the head against the concrete floor. That¡¯s three of them down. No, two¡­I curse as the wolf Henry hit comes charging from the back of the warehouse. Seven more to go and while the fury is controlling them more than any tactics, these wolves are in a full bloodlust, and it¡¯s all Henry and I can do to defend ourselves as they leap at us gnashing their teeth. Castillo is helping, but his pack can¡¯t even recognize their Alpha and they attempt to latch their teeth onto him too. I notice with growing despair that Castillo¡¯s fingernails are beginning to shift to claws. ¡°Riley!¡± Henry shouts in warning. I don¡¯t catch Brianna in time and she barrels into me like a battering ram, knocking the breath from my lungs. My head hits the floor painfully, making stars dance before my eyes before Brianna¡¯s very large teeth supercede all else. She goes for the throat, but I jam the barrel of my gun between her jaws, grimacing as teeth scrape against steel. I don¡¯t want to shoot her. I don¡¯t know if I can shoot her¡­except I have to. I can see Elena through Brianna¡¯s bristling fur, the blood red of the magic around her is shifting to white and I can only assume that means she¡¯s moved on from the spell that brought the change and is working on the one to open Paradise. The dark mass above me disappears suddenly, replaced by Henry¡¯s hand that he holds out for me. I grab it and let him pull me to my feet, seeing Brianna rolling to a stop several feet away after being shoulder checked by the vampire. ¡°The Order¡¯s coming!¡± Henry exclaims and no sooner does he speak the words than Centurions pour into the warehouse. I immediately recognize Chiaki, Calvin, and others led by Chief Glass. Behind them are the Enchanters; Ulysses leading the small group and at the rear is Sheldon. Still caught in their lunatic rage, two of the strike team immediately go for the nearest Centurion. The Centurion doesn¡¯t hesitate to aim his gun and fire, bringing one of the wolves down with a shot right between the eyes. ¡°Detain, not kill!¡± Chiaki snaps at the Centurion. But he isn¡¯t the only one who decides that it¡¯s easier to go for the kill rather than aiming for a smaller target. My heart skips a beat when I see Calvin lining up a shot to bring down Brianna. Henry reaches him and shoves him to the floor, but the gun fires. I don¡¯t see where it strikes, but Brianna goes down with a pained howl. And the savage roar from Castillo is enough to freeze my blood as the syndicate boss ¨C half transformed ¨C closes the distance between himself and his target, and seizes Calvin from the back of the neck with one hand before he plunges the fingers of his other beneath the flesh. My fellow operative screams and I feel sick when Castillo rips out the Centurion¡¯s spine in one, hard jerk. He drops Calvin, and I¡¯m sure he¡¯s dead before he even hits the floor. He¡¯s being surrounded by Centurions now and I find myself running to put myself between them and the werewolf Alpha. ¡°Stop!! What the fuck are you doing?? We have to stop Elena!¡± ¡°These werewolves are between us and her!¡± Sheldon snaps. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for mercy!¡± More shots are fired and the smell of blood becomes more powerful, the savage barks and growls from the werewolves become more vicious. I am certain there¡¯s more to it, and with dread that certainty tells me the Order is definitely thrilled at having a chance to even the playing field between us and them. To thin Castillo¡¯s numbers and tip the power away from him. ¡°You can¡¯t do this!¡± Henry shouts. ¡°This isn¡¯t their fault!¡± And one of the Centurions fires at him. He anticipates the response and his speed ensures he isn¡¯t hit, but I¡¯m seeing red. I reach the offending operative from behind and smash the butt of my gun into his head, making him drop. Henry nods to me, then he joins the fight¡­defending the werewolves from the Centurions and knocking out the crazed pack whenever he has an opening. I can¡¯t keep my eyes on him, I have to turn my attention to Elena¡­and I can¡¯t bear to see if he gets hurt at all. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. By now, Sheldon and Ulysses are at the protective barrier. I can hardly see Elena for the brilliance of that white light shining all around her. Both men are casting spells rapidly to dismantle the barrier. ¡°More!¡± Sheldon shouts, and the other Enchanters break away from the chaotic battle to help bring the barrier down. I hear a pained shout and my heart freezes. I know I shouldn¡¯t, I should not see what happened, but I look. Henry¡¯s on the ground, but my brief panic is somewhat assuaged when he gets back to his feet. He has a ragged gash across his chest and is squaring off against Castillo. Castillo who has finally transformed completely and now stands at close to 10 feet tall, inky black fur on edge and dangerous teeth exposed. Henry can¡¯t fight him alone! I start running to them, but I¡¯m intercepted by Chiaki. ¡°Look!¡± she exclaims. ¡°The barrier is weakening! You take her down the second you can, Riley! I¡¯ll help him!¡± I want to argue, but she¡¯s the only Centurion who has been actively avoiding murder here. I nod and she rushes off to help Henry try and bring Castillo down. Even if part of that task involves fighting off Centurions hellbent on going for the kill. The three of us can worry about the future ramifications of our actions later, we need to survive the present first. I¡¯m hurrying towards the barrier when a werewolf jumps for my throat. I side-step and take careful aim with the gun again, firing another shot that finds its mark in the werewolf¡¯s right leg. Only for another Centurion to fire a round into the wounded creature¡¯s head. She has the nerve to smirk at me after her crime. ¡°You fucking monster!¡± I scream and squeeze the trigger again. She¡¯s knocked to the floor by the force of the round that explodes into her shoulder. ¡°RILEY!¡± Henry bellows. I look his way and see that he points to the barrier before jumping out of range of Castillo¡¯s strike. Gritting my teeth, I continue my rush towards Elena, Sheldon and the Enchanters. I can see her now, because I can see a crack in the barrier that is slowly opening. I exchange my gun for the enchanted daggers and sprint the rest of the distance. It¡¯s big enough, I can make it through. I can stop her. ¡°Averline, don¡¯t!¡± Sheldon orders when he sees me. I ignore him and I¡¯m swallowed in that white light as I cross the barrier. I expect to see Elena now, instead a sudden rush of images assaults me. Am I transported? I have no idea, I think I may be, because I¡¯m not in the warehouse, I¡¯m in Order HQ, in the basement where the interrogation cells are. I¡¯m looking at Castillo, at least a decade younger, who is seated at the table with his hands cuffed. He¡¯s looking at me with an alluring expression, a small smirk on his lips and a playful gleam to his eyes. ¡°At least they give me a beautiful view,¡± he¡¯s saying. ¡°Quiet,¡± Elena¡¯s voice responds. Am I in her head? Looking out through her eyes? ¡°Ei, hermosa, I see you blushing.¡± ¡°Only out of indignation!¡± Castillo¡¯s charming grin only intensifies. He looks like he¡¯s completely at home in the cell, comfortable and not at all worried about being arrested. Arrested¡­I know that he¡¯s been detained by the Order once, and this must be that one time. I never knew Elena was the one responsible for him though¡­no wonder she¡¯s such a trusted member of the Order. I nearly laugh hysterically at the thought. The scene shifts, and now I¡¯m in a bedroom. It¡¯s not the one I saw when I went to Castillo¡¯s current address, and I have to wonder if Elena helped him become as big as he is now. I feel my heart race when he looms into my field of vision ¨C or rather, Elena¡¯s. He has the glow that comes after passionate sex and I¡¯m glad this memory is post coital. ¡°You are a dream, mi cielo.¡± ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have¡­we can¡¯t do this,¡± Elena sounds heart broken as she says this. ¡°Hush,¡± and there¡¯s some of Castillo¡¯s authoritarian tone, yet it¡¯s still gentle. ¡°You want me?¡± ¡°...Yes.¡± ¡°And I want you. More and more everyday. Let me show you,¡± he grins and lowers down her body, but the memory blurs again. I¡¯m in the Common again, and the air shimmers. In the back of my mind, prior training tells me that it¡¯s some kind of spell ¨C illusion? Cloaking? I can¡¯t focus, because I¡¯m looking at the girl giggling madly as she sticks dandelions in Castillo¡¯s hair. She¡¯s a beautiful girl, with Castillo¡¯s dark hair and beige colored skin, and Elena¡¯s bright blue eyes and soft features. She can¡¯t be more than seven. ¡°Are you making your father a crown?¡± Elena asks with laughter in her voice. ¡°Yes! Then I¡¯m going to make you a tiara,¡± the girl replies. ¡°And what about for you, princesa?¡± Castillo asks. ¡°A wholllllllle cloak of flowers!¡± she exclaims with glee. ¡°We¡¯re going to pick the Common clean,¡± Elena says. Castillo reaches for her, and I see a wedding band around his finger. I almost want to stay here, there¡¯s so much love and joy¡­but the vision blurs and I feel wrecked when the next forms. Still seeing through Elena¡¯s eyes, I look down at the broken form in my arms. The girl, Isabella, is dead. Elena is wailing, her mournful dirge that of a broken woman. She screams no again and again, but Isabella doesn¡¯t open her eyes. ¡°Do something! DO SOMETHING!¡± she shrieks, looking up at Castillo. The joy is gone from his face, and I see the stoicism I¡¯ve come to associate with him today. The sound of sirens approaches and I¡¯m cognizant of them being on a sidewalk, though I¡¯m not sure where. ¡°We have to go,¡± Castillo says. I see the urgency, there¡¯s a man lying dead behind him, his face beaten in. Beyond him is a car that¡¯s still running and I can put the pieces together on how Isabella met her end. I am mercifully taken from this memory and find myself in a familiar place. A theater. Charlemagne¡¯s theater. ¡°A way to bring her back?¡± he asks. ¡°Well, if she¡¯s dead already I can¡¯t turn her, you know.¡± ¡°Another way, there has to be another way,¡± Elena begs. A clever smile curls the vampire¡¯s lips upwards. ¡°There is a rumor I heard a long, long time ago. Ever hear about Paradise?¡± A spark of flame ignites within me, but the scene changes. I¡¯m in Castillo¡¯s office, the current one and he looks livid. ¡°Don¡¯t speak any more about this false ¡®Paradise¡¯,¡± Castillo growls. ¡°Isabella is in the true Paradise of Heaven. Let her go.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t ask me to do this,¡± Elena whispers. ¡°Let her be,¡± he says coldly. ¡°What you wish for goes against the natural order.¡± ¡°P-please, my love, please.¡± ¡°You think I haven¡¯t thought about it? I have. But we can¡¯t.¡± ¡°I can make a better reality for us!¡± ¡°NO!¡± ¡°Please¡­¡± ¡°Leave my morra be, let her rest. Let me rest. Test me no further on this.¡± ¡°Alejo¡­¡± she trails off and then I feel her grief turn to rage. She tugs the wedding ring from her finger and throws it at him. ¡°You¡¯re despicable! If you won¡¯t help me with this, I will do it on my own!¡± The scene fades and suddenly I¡¯m looking at Elena again. She¡¯s crying and has that pleading smile on her face again. I have a dagger to her throat, and wonder how long I¡¯ve been standing here like this while reliving her memories ¨C of seeing her reasons why she needs to do this. ¡°Don¡¯t you see?¡± she asks me softly. ¡°I do,¡± I reply honestly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I move to bring the blade across the vulnerable vein in her throat when there¡¯s one more flash of white, but this one is harsh. This one feels like a fist striking me in the face, but the pain doesn¡¯t last. I¡¯m in another memory. No¡­not a memory. As my vision clears, I see Henry and a girl, who I recognize as Amelia. There¡¯s no doubt that this is how she would look if she had survived, with wavy dark hair, my eyes and Henry¡¯s smile. I¡¯m not looking through anyone¡¯s eyes this time, I am a spectator, and I see myself joining the pair. We look so happy. I can feel our happiness, and I know that this is within my grasp. I just have to let Elena open Paradise. Then I notice it. I notice myself in this happy vision. I¡¯m not wearing a dress and I don¡¯t have long hair. Instead, my frame is just a bit more muscular and there¡¯s the shadow of facial hair beginning to grow on my face. It¡¯s me, and I know my future can¡¯t be reliving the past. I know what I have to do. That conviction snaps me out of it and I realize I¡¯m on the ground by Elena¡¯s feet. I can feel a faint rumbling beneath me and know that time¡¯s almost out. I seize the closest dagger and get to my feet, some of the awe in my face must translate to compliance, because when Elena sees me her expression brightens slightly, only to slip to shock when I plunge the dagger into her heart. I don¡¯t let her fall gracelessly to the floor. I catch her and lay her to rest gently. She¡¯s not quite gone yet, and looks at me with hurt in her watery eyes. Blood has bubbled up her throat and trails from the corner of her mouth, as red stains her torso. ¡°Find her,¡± I say quietly. ¡°When you go¡­find your Isabella again.¡± She blinks slowly, then smiles before her eyes close for good. The light fades and there¡¯s sudden, jerky movements from the werewolves ¨C those still fighting, and the ones unconscious. They¡¯re beginning to resume their human forms, the spell holding them in their beast state has broken. How much damage has been done throughout the city though¡­ ¡°Averline!¡± Sheldon¡¯s harsh voice snaps me back to right here. The warehouse is shaking now, and I¡¯m horribly reminded of Vasilisa¡¯s story; when she attempted to open Paradise she nearly destroyed the world. ¡°Fuck!¡± ¡°We have to get out of the eye of the storm and keep it contained!¡± Sheldon orders, his voice echoing around the warehouse. ¡°What about the werewolves?¡± I ask. Some of them are back in their human form, but a good number are unconscious or still in the process of changing. Sheldon looks at me coldly. ¡°Let them rot. Centurions! Enchanters! Let¡¯s go!¡± They don¡¯t even stop to collect Elena, they just¡­leave. Without a second thought. Except for Chiaki, who looks after the Order with disgust. It¡¯s only me, Henry and Chiaki and a lot of people to move. Or, us three and Castillo. He¡¯s getting up from the floor, back in his human form. He stalks towards me and I think he¡¯s going to attack until he bypasses me without a glance. He gathers Elena in his arms, looking at her with that stoic expression that doesn¡¯t quite hide the sorrow in his eyes this time. ¡°Mi amor,¡± he whispers. ¡°May you find your peace now.¡± ¡°Those¡­fuckers.¡± I see Brianna, clutching at her bloody side as she staggers to her feet. Castillo presses a kiss to Elena¡¯s still lips before setting her down again and going to Brianna. ¡°You¡¯re alright.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± she winces, and looks at me and Chiaki with hardened features. ¡°We can¡¯t do this now,¡± Henry speaks up. The wound in his chest from Castillo is healing already, and I¡¯m flooded with relief. ¡°We have to get everyone out of here.¡± ¡°Santito is right,¡± Castillo replies. ¡°We¡¯ll help you,¡± Chiaki says, eyeing Brianna warily. Brianna puts the pack ahead of her personal feelings and nods. As more of the werewolves regain their senses, they join us in our efforts to move those who are unconscious. The building shakes more, making it difficult to keep our balance and I¡¯m terrified of what waits for us outside as we head for the exit. The sky is still black overhead, and it¡¯s cold. Much colder than it should be. The sea is turbulent in the harbor, washing over the docks and only getting more wild. ¡°Come on!¡± I shout. It¡¯s hard going, I¡¯m lugging the burly female werewolf, who is out cold and dead weight. But I push myself to move faster, keeping my eyes firmly ahead. The loading docks are chaotic, the whole area is full of people evacuating. They may not know what¡¯s causing this storm, but they know it¡¯s time to leave, because there¡¯s cracking behind us and I know this whole section of the city is about to crash into the water. I grunt and sling the unconscious woman over my shoulder, buckling somewhat under her weight but forcing myself to go faster. There¡¯s loud groans and mournful screeches as the ground underfoot begins to give way. It¡¯s still coming from behind me, and I don¡¯t dare look back to see how far away it still is. It sounds close. The wind is whipping salty water through the air, catching it from the crest of too-big waves and urging me to keep going. It¡¯s nearly a mile before I catch sight of what might be every Enchanter in the Order. They¡¯re all concentrating on the growing tempest to try and quell it. I¡¯m exhausted by the time I get past them, only thankful that they let us all pass without question. They can¡¯t risk breaking their concentration and I look pointedly at Castillo when I realize this. My meaning is clear, and I¡¯m sure he has the same thought anyway; he¡¯s getting out of here with his pack before the Order causes more harm. ¡°I¡¯ll take her,¡± Henry says quietly, nodding to my unconscious companion. He¡¯s already supporting another injured wolf, but I know with his strength he¡¯ll be fine. It¡¯s him choosing a side that has me worry. ¡°Okay,¡± I set the woman down carefully and Henry wraps an arm around her. The pack withdraws, undoubtedly getting as far from this place as they can in case the Enchanters fail. Henry catches up to them quickly, and moves as though one of them. I shake myself from those thoughts to look back towards the Main Channel. The waves are crashing over the whole of Black Falcon Avenue now, which is crumbling under the pressure. The dark skies swirl menacingly, and this darkness ¨C so antagonistic ¨C is creeping towards us like an ever expanding dome, and everything within that dome is being laid to ruin. And the Enchanters aren¡¯t enough. I watch in horror for what feels like an age before my mind flares to life again. ¡°Centurions!¡± I shout, seizing the dagger that is still stained with Elena¡¯s blood. ¡°Support the Enchanters!¡± And with this said, I stab the dagger into my forearm and slice. The others look to me in alarm, but Chiaki follows suit and that has the rest offering their life force to empower the Enchanters. I imagine this is what it feels like to have a vampire drink your blood, there¡¯s a sucking sensation anyway, only I have to watch with gritted teeth as blood flows from the wound, upwards, becoming a smoky mist that circles around the Enchanters. Their magic bursts with more energy, and where it first appeared a dim flame against that darkness, it shines as bright as a sun now. I¡¯m lightheaded as my blood flows more quickly and I drop to my knees, seeing Chiaki collapse as well. It has to be enough¡­it has to be enough. Chapter XIII: A Brighter Future I come to with the sound of beeping and the smell of antiseptic burning my nostrils. Wrinkling my nose, I force my eyes open to see if I¡¯m in the worst form of Hell imaginable. I feel like I¡¯m still alive, and I recognize the medical facility I¡¯m in. It¡¯s the private hospital that the Order owns, the whole building is shielded from the mundanes, and is located a few miles outside of Boston, smack dab in the middle of a forest. I¡¯ve only been here once, and that was to visit Billy after he and another Centurion had a bad turn with a couple of satyrs. I wish Billy could be here right now. I¡¯m sure he¡¯d have something to say to make the sudden ache in my chest not feel so fatal. I¡¯m alive, yes, but I have no idea what state Boston is in, or the world for that matter. Does everyone know about werewolves now? Is everything I know going to change? And how long before people decide they¡¯re better off killing anyone who¡¯s part of this supernatural world? Call me a cynic, but humanity doesn¡¯t have the best track record when it comes to withholding violence. Looking more closely at my surroundings, I see I¡¯m in a ward with fellow Centurions. Chiaki is in the bed next to me, but she¡¯s still resting. I almost want to wake her up just to thank her. I always figured she would side with the Order no matter what the situation, but she showed me a different side at the docks. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d still be here if it wasn¡¯t for her and Henry. Henry¡­I need to know what happened to him too. There¡¯s an IV hooked up that should hint to me staying in bed, but I¡¯m just bracing myself to pull the needle from my vein when I hear sharp heels coming across the tiled floor. I look up to see Carver, who looks haggard and exhausted, but no less intimidating. ¡°Don¡¯t even try it, Averline,¡± she says gruffly. I hold my hands up in surrender before letting them flop gracelessly to my sides. ¡°What happened?¡± I ask, trying not to sound as desperate as I feel. ¡°Most of South Boston is gone,¡± Carver replies heavily. ¡°Jesus¡­¡± I take a few steadying breaths. ¡°And the werewolves? Do people¡­know?¡± ¡°No,¡± Carver says. ¡°A few people were attacked, but given the catastrophe¡­well, it drew all the attention from the wolves. There weren¡¯t that many roaming the streets as it was, Castillo must have ordered them to lock themselves up somewhere.¡± I remember Castillo¡¯s dark look when I suggested he take his entire pack out of the city, but I¡¯m glad he compromised. At least there¡¯s something of a silver lining, but maybe I¡¯m only thinking that way because I haven¡¯t seen South Boston¡­or heard the amount of losses the city suffered. Despite the shock of knowing the aftermath, I can¡¯t help the underlying anger that¡¯s twisting through me. ¡°We could have stopped this,¡± I say harshly, looking Carver right in the eyes. ¡°I know,¡± she concedes. ¡°We should have listened to you, Averline.¡± It doesn¡¯t make me feel better hearing her say that. Validation won¡¯t restore the city, it won¡¯t bring back those who were lost during this case. ¡°I don¡¯t understand something¡­¡± I continue after a tense moment of silence. ¡°How did you not suspect Elena? I get that she was hiding her potential while killing the werewolves and getting ready to open Paradise, but wouldn¡¯t you have sensed her power when she first joined?¡± Carver exhales sharply through her nose, eyes narrowed. ¡°Of course we would have. Magic is a strange thing, Averline, and no one fully understands it. It is not unheard of for a mage¡¯s true potential to manifest later, usually after a significant event.¡± I nod, following along, but still puzzled. ¡°Then you would have sensed it after her daughter¡¯s death, that seems the most likely trigger.¡± Carver raises a brow at me and I realize she doesn¡¯t know the story. The Order doesn¡¯t know, I¡¯m the only one who saw those memories. I try to piece it all together as I explain it to Carver, from Elena¡¯s meeting with Castillo during his arrest, their relationship, their daughter and her death. Carver looks quietly livid by the time I¡¯m through, and I can see that her pride is wounded. She¡¯s shrewd, not much gets by her, let alone something this big. ¡°This whole time¡­¡± she seethes. ¡°And then there were Sheldon¡¯s demands that the werewolves be killed on sight rather than knocked out.¡± ¡°Sentinel Sheldon did what was necessary,¡± Carver replies. ¡°It is not a pleasant task we¡¯ve taken on, Averline, and sometimes what needs to be done is not always something that can be deemed ¡®good¡¯.¡± ¡°It¡¯s going to make things worse with Castillo.¡± Carver sneers. ¡°Things were never more than ¡®worse¡¯ with Castillo to begin with. The fact he seduced one of our Enchanters has already made my opinion of him worse.¡± I could tell her it wasn¡¯t about Elena being an Enchantress. It wasn¡¯t some ploy by Castillo to weaken the Order. I could see the love they had for each other. I felt it, especially in the Common when they were with Isabella. Their love was genuine, but I don¡¯t think Carver will ever be in the mood to hear that. ¡°I came here to reinstate you, Averline,¡± Carver returns to business, what emotion she displayed replaced with her professional mask. ¡°You went above and beyond your duties, and had we listened¡­well, we would be in a far better place now. I want you working with Chief Glass, your instincts may often lead you to trouble, but that does not mean they should not be trusted.¡± ¡°I accept, but¡­¡± I trail off. Working with Chief Glass is a promotion, he heads the Centurions and it¡¯s not lost on me that I¡¯m being given a chance to prove I can fill the position when he retires. But right now I¡¯m thinking of myself, and that version of me I saw in the vision Elena tried to use to stop me. ¡°I need to take a leave of absence first.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°It¡¯s time I reconnect with Dr. Bishop and continue my transition.¡± Carver actually smiles, and I think it¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve ever seen her do it. ¡°Very well, Averline. The position will be waiting for you when you return.¡± ?????¡ã???¡ã????? The clinic discharges me three days later. All of the Centurions needed blood transfusions after the amount given to the Enchanters. It¡¯s when I see unfamiliar faces and ask Chiaki that I learn Carver called in a lot of the regional offices for backup for the case. The extra Centurions, Sentinels and Enchanters is likely what kept all of Boston from being destroyed by Elena¡¯s spell. The city feels different. There¡¯s a sort of hush among the vast crowds that still go about their business, and what conversations I do hear are all about the loss of South Boston. Looking at the news, I see that it¡¯s labeled an earthquake ¨C rare for this area, but it¡¯s not the first time one has happened. People are scared, they think this is the start of more to come and I wish I could alleviate their worries, but I move past them without saying a word. When I get home, the first thing I do is call Henry from my new mobile. I pace as I wait for him to answer, still anxious about him and not daring to ask anyone in the ward about his fate. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Henry!¡± ¡°Riley!¡± ¡°Are you all right?¡± we ask each other at the same time. ¡°Come over, I¡¯m home,¡± I insist. ¡°I¡¯ll be there soon.¡± ¡®Soon¡¯ is about twenty minutes, and when I hear the knock at my door I spring from the couch and hurry to let him in. I grin when I see he¡¯s in his full sun-blocking attire again and his shoving the wide-brim hat in my face as soon as he steps inside tells me he knows exactly what I¡¯m grinning about. ¡°I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re okay,¡± I say, hugging him tightly before. ¡°Likewise,¡± he replies, returning my embrace. We stand in the entryway like this for a few minutes, then I finally let him go and invite him into the living room. ¡°Tell me what happened to you!¡± I demand. ¡°I helped Castillo get his wounded to his house in Back Bay, by the time we got there more of his pack was conscious and they discussed leaving the city for a little while. By that point, it seemed all of Boston would be¡­¡± he shakes his head, looking away. ¡°I went with them, I can¡¯t tell you where, but we waited it out and as soon as things settled, I came back to look for you. You¡¯d been moved from the area though, there was no one there.¡± ¡°How bad is it?¡± I ask. ¡°Horrible.¡± ¡°Fuck. I should have pressed Carver more when I had the chance!¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t on you, Riley. You did everything you could. Without you, we wouldn¡¯t have had a chance.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just¡­all those people, all that damage. And Billy¡­what about his sacrifice?¡± ¡°His sacrifice led you to following through on Elena,¡± Henry reminds me. I sigh and lean back against the couch. ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel like much of a victory,¡± I admit. ¡°I¡¯m grateful we didn¡¯t lose more of the city, don¡¯t get me wrong. I just hoped¡­I don¡¯t know, I would have kept us from losing anyone.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t put it all on your shoulders.¡± I close my eyes and take a moment, before I nod. ¡°I¡¯m trying,¡± I say. ¡°In fact¡­I have an appointment with Dr. Bishop next week.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Wow, tone down the surprise would you?¡± ¡°I just thought¡­well, after you said you were never going to see her again, that you were never going to see her again.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a fickle bastard, I know.¡± I purse my lips, feeling nervous suddenly. ¡°I¡¯m going to transition, Henry. It wasn¡¯t just grief, it wasn¡¯t me trying to fill a hole left by what happened to us. It¡¯s¡­it¡¯s me. And I¡¯m tired of fighting it, I¡¯m tired of thinking it will go away. Hell, I¡¯m tired of thinking it¡¯s something negative at all.¡± He reaches out and takes my hand. ¡°I¡¯ll be here to support you through every step, if you want me to be.¡± I smile. ¡°I want you to be.¡± Our silence is comfortable again, before a sly smile works over my face again. ¡°So. Another sleepover with Castillo and Brianna¡­¡± ¡°No. Don¡¯t you start again.¡± ¡°Come on, either one would be a catch and you ¡ªah!¡± my humorous cry of alarm is muffled by the pillow that hits me square in the face. It¡¯s good to laugh again, even if I¡¯m not over all that happened. It gives me hope that I will heal, and that I will be able to help others heal in turn. We have a lot of cleaning up to do, there will be scars across the city for years, perhaps forever, but right now I¡¯m thinking how nice it is that a Centurion and a vampire can stay so close. That Henry¡¯s done the unthinkable and forged a bond with werewolves, when most vampires would scorn the whole species. The thought brings Charlemagne to my mind and I frown. I nearly forgot that he was part of Elena¡¯s memories, that he brought up Paradise to her in the first place. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I murmur. ¡°What?¡± ¡°It was a vampire who started this,¡± I say. ¡°I saw it, in Elena¡¯s memories¡­I don¡¯t know how they connected, I think she went to him hoping he could turn her daughter and bring her back that way. But he told her¡­he asked her if she heard about Paradise.¡± ¡°Why would he want anyone to reach the True Source?¡± Henry asks. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­maybe he thought the whole thing would eliminate Castillo and his pack? The Order too, come to think of it.¡± ¡°I sense another step in this investigation.¡± ¡°No,¡± I sigh. ¡°Not now, anyway. I think it¡¯s safer that Charlemagne doesn¡¯t know that I know about that bit of info.¡± ¡°Then¡­what now?¡± Henry asks. ¡°Now? We watch B-Horror movies. Tomorrow, I¡¯m going to ensure Billy gets a proper funeral service. And through it all, a lot of work on myself for a change. It¡¯s time to let go, it¡¯s time to heal. I want to do better. For me, for you, and for Amelia. No more excuses.¡± ¡°You¡¯re going to shine even brighter, Riley.¡± ¡°Not too bright, I hope. I know how sensitive you are to that sort of thing now.¡± ¡°Ah, so the humor remains,¡± Henry replies with a feigned sigh. ¡°Very good.¡± I smile and pat his knee before going to the TV stand to rummage through the stacks of movies for tonight¡¯s showcase. I haven¡¯t felt this hopeful in a long time, and I¡¯ve never felt this self-clarity I¡¯m experiencing. The future does look bright, and I¡¯m eager to live it fully. The End