《Wizard's First Lesson》


 Chapter 1

    Three ether runes formed a simple protection spell. I had written them on a small card, charged it with magic, and for the third day in a row, I was trying to extract the spell from the paper. No luck. I wasn¡¯t expecting to become a great wizard overnight, of course, but the complete lack of progress was frustrating. Every time, I repeated the same algorithm: charge, touch with will, pull. The result of each attempt was identical to the last: the spell refused to budge and instead activated right there on the card. I deactivated it, and the cycle began anew.


    There was no shortage of ether in the manor, but out here, I had to bring along several large citrines, as my own reserves only allowed for two recharges. The ether leaked out through my third eye in the process, and I would lose my magical vision for a good half-hour while it replenished itself.


    ¡°Duncan!¡± Harry barked angrily. ¡°Tear yourself away from that bloody card and tell me what you think!¡±


    I looked up at the wizard. His Worship Lionel de Camp, the Mayor of Farnell, was hosting a grand reception at the town hall. The guest list included prominent politicians, officials, businessmen, performers, and all of the local nobility, including the duke himself ¨C and, of course, the Fairburns. Lionel clearly understood that conflict was inevitable; sooner or later, the wizards would be compared. So he decided to polish Harry¡¯s rough image, starting with insisting he dress appropriately. That was why we were back at the clothing store I already knew quite well.


    The silver-haired store manager, who had helped me with my suit last time, was now focused on Harry.


    ¡°Well?¡± Smith asked, spreading his arms wide.


    The warlock was dressed in shiny, mirror-like shoes and an impeccable gray three-piece suit made of fine wool. The only flaw in the look was his head ¨C specifically, the shaggy beard that completely obscured his tie and the wild hair sticking out around his bald spot.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± he repeated.


    ¡°I think we should¡¯ve stopped by a barber. You look like a scarecrow in an expensive suit.¡±


    ¡°Hey, show some respect for your teacher!¡± the wizard snapped indignantly.


    ¡°Yes, teacher. My apologies, teacher,¡± I said sarcastically. ¡°Do you want the truth or flattery?¡±


    ¡°The truth, but without rudeness. And you¡¯ll be punished for your tone. Two days ¨C no trying to extract spells from that card.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Now it was my turn to protest.


    ¡°I said what I said!¡± Harry declared firmly. ¡°You¡¯ve hit a wall and keep bashing your head against it. Switch gears. Work on compiling a list of spells for your book instead.¡±


    ¡°Why can¡¯t I just copy yours?¡±


    ¡°Because spells are meant to be used! For example, why would you need earth-scrying or smell-enhancement spells?¡±


    ¡°Why did you need them?¡±


    ¡°I used them plenty in my time. That¡¯s not the point. Those are complex matrices with dozens of runes from multiple elements. It¡¯ll take you ages to copy them, even longer to charge them, and the earliest you¡¯ll be able to use them is in a couple of years ¨C if they¡¯re ever useful at all. By evening, I want a list of ten simple spells. And not a single offensive one!¡±


    ¡°Why not offensive spells?¡±


    ¡°What do you think would happen if you tried to extract a firebolt spell off the paper right now?¡±


    Oh¡­ Best case, the paper would burn up. Worst case? It might hit me in the face.


    ¡°Got it. Ten spells by evening.¡±


    ¡°You too,¡± Harry said, pointing a finger at Cap, who was lounging in a chair nearby.


    The boy let out a heavy sigh. As far as I knew, he still hadn¡¯t finished his algebra and geometry homework, and Harry had promised him a runic glyph test in the evening.


    Satisfied that his ¡°teaching moment¡± had been effective, the wizard returned to the topic at hand.


    ¡°So, what do you think of the suit?¡±


    "Nice suit," I said. "But you really need to sort out your hair and shave that beard."


    Before Harry could argue, I turned to the manager, who had just returned with my order. "What do you think, sir? Share your professional opinion."


    "If I may, sir," the man replied with a dignified bow toward Harry. The wizard puffed up and braced himself to resist.


    "Well?"


    "The suit needs some tailoring to fit properly. It was made for a man of larger build. As for the hair, it absolutely must be cut. But the beard... I wouldn¡¯t advise shaving it. A well-groomed beard can add a touch of gravitas to a man. My verdict: trim it and shape it. But leave it to a professional ¨C otherwise, the effect might be the opposite of what you''re hoping for."


    "Trim it... I can agree to a trim," Harry conceded. "Can you recommend someone?"


    "Of course. I can make a call and arrange an appointment."


    "Please do, good man," I said, accepting the hangers holding the blue three-piece suit from his hands.


    The manager bowed to me and nodded to the tailor, who hurried over to Harry armed with a set of pins and chalk. While I dressed, the wizard was practically pinned into place. Soon, it was my turn. I wasn¡¯t quite as skinny as Harry, so fewer pins were needed for my adjustments. Hopefully, this suit would last longer than my last one.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± the manager said, returning to us. ¡°I¡¯ve taken the liberty of arranging an appointment with the barber for a quarter past two. Here¡¯s his card.¡± He handed Harry a business card. ¡°Also, we received a call from the police station. Detective Inspector Sunset was looking for you. He knew you were here and asked that you wait for him.¡±


    Harry and I exchanged glances. Lately, John Sunset had been speaking to both of us through clenched teeth. He was holding a grudge against both me and Harry, despite the fact that he and Harry had once been on friendly terms. To be fair, he had every reason to be upset. A lot had gone down in his jurisdiction, and he hadn¡¯t managed to get to the bottom of any of it. What¡¯s more, Harry had used his connections in His Worship¡¯s administration, and Uncle Bryce had paid a visit to the Duke. As a result, Sunset¡¯s department had been handed a neatly prepackaged version of events, which didn¡¯t sit well with the meticulous and occasionally overly principled detective.


    ¡°Wait for him? Fine.¡± Harry turned to the manager. ¡°Find a proper outfit for the boy,¡± he said, before turning back to me. ¡°Go fetch Knuckles. Fancy car, scruffy driver ¨C it won¡¯t do.¡±


    Harry was exaggerating. Knuckles was dressed decently, far better than during our first meeting. He¡¯d also taken to the straight and narrow with some determination. When I went to call him, the lad was sitting in the driver¡¯s seat with a notebook on the steering wheel, gnawing on a pencil and puzzling over algebra. Harry had taken the Sparrow brothers¡¯ education seriously, hiring them a tutor from among the city¡¯s poor students. He motivated the younger one with stories from his own life, while Knuckles was blackmailed with his salary and access to the car keys. The latter was much more effective ¨C Knuckles was practically worshipping Harry¡¯s new Royal, drooling over it like it was sacred. Clint Sparrow was a true motor enthusiast, and Harry was slowly working the idea of engineering into the boy¡¯s head.


    We hadn¡¯t even finished dressing the younger brother or bought him a new cap ¨C he always wore one to hide the silver streak in his hair left by his encounter with his father¡¯s ghost ¨C when Detective Inspector Sunset arrived.


    ¡°Inspector,¡± I greeted him with a nod.


    ¡°Hello, John,¡± Harry said. ¡°How did you know we were here?¡±


    ¡°Am I a detective, or did I just step out for a stroll?¡± Sunset shot back. ¡°De Camp¡¯s throwing a reception to mark the new Place of Power, and you¡¯ve neither proper attire nor taste. This is where the girls brought Lord Loxlin before taking him to Golden Tear.¡±


    ¡°You seem to know my life quite well, Inspector. I thought the case was closed?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It is. But interesting facts keep coming to light. Will you be here much longer?¡±


    ¡°Once Clint tries on his suit, we¡¯ll be free,¡± Harry said. ¡°Our next appointment is at 2:15, so we¡¯ve got a bit of time.¡±


    ¡°Good. Finish up. I¡¯ll make a call, and then we¡¯ll head out together.¡±


    ¡°Where to?¡± Harry asked.


    ¡°I need your professional opinion.¡±


    ¡°You know, John, that¡¯s not how you ask for help.¡±


    ¡°You owe me, Harry. Both you and your new apprentice ¨C for the mess you made in my district and all the grief your little escapades brought me from my superiors. So you¡¯ll finish here... and we¡¯re going.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± I cut in. ¡°Will those interesting facts about my life suddenly stop coming to light?¡±


    "I was tortured because of you, boy," Sunset said, narrowing his eyes at me.


    "I remember that evening," I replied calmly. "The vampires started with me, and then my friend saved your life."


    Sunset puffed up worse than Harry had when I suggested he visit a barber, but the wizard stepped in to calm him down.


    "He''s right, John. Helping a friend is the least you can do¡­ A friend, John. You¡¯re still our friend, aren¡¯t you?"


    "Oh, for heaven¡¯s sake!" Sunset grumbled. "Help me with this case, and we¡¯ll call it even."


    I raised an intrigued eyebrow. "And those facts about my life? Will they stop surfacing?"If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "They won¡¯t surface. They won¡¯t!" Sunset barked in exasperation.


    "Fine. Knuckles, how much longer in there?" Harry called.


    "Just a minute," Knuckles answered.


    Harry had bought him a black suit, which also needed some tailoring.


    Half an hour later, we rolled into the slums of Smuggler¡¯s Bay.


    You know, I could clean this place up now," Harry said, glancing around.


    "Seriously? Wait, are you saying this place is actually poisoned? I always thought that was just an urban legend."


    "The gas used here during the Big War wasn¡¯t an ordinary chemical compound," Harry explained. "It had an ether base, which allowed it to seep into everything around it. Fabrics and wood absorbed it the most easily, while bricks and stone resisted better. Metal was practically unaffected. It was designed to penetrate through defenses. Now the local buildings are slowly decaying, and the gas is being released. The doses are so small they barely affect people¡¯s health, but..."


    "But ether penetrates matter best," I finished for him.


    "Exactly. And now, I have enough of it, even with the shipments to Bremor that your uncle and I arranged."


    Bryce had been quick to act, signing a long-term deal with Harry to exchange reservoir stones. Harry now had access to all five elemental sources of Bremor Forest in exchange for ether. Bryce also took on the role of intermediary for trading other elemental stones with his partners. The two of them had discussed much more than that. I knew Harry was after certain potions, while Bryce needed artifacts, but they hadn¡¯t shared those details with me.


    "Well, not all of them," Harry continued, casting a glance at the half-collapsed buildings steeped in invisible contamination. "Or at least, not right away. But in six months to a year¡­ it¡¯s doable."


    "Then count me in," I said.


    "For what?"


    "The land. We need to buy it while it¡¯s still cheap."


    "Duncan, don¡¯t think you¡¯re the cleverest one in the room. The land already belongs to de Camp, the Duke, and a handful of other big shots who are out of your league. Do you think I brought up cleansing this place for no reason? The Mayor has already cast his line. Elections are coming up, and this will score him some serious points with the common folk."


    "Then I hope he at least pays you well," I muttered.


    "He had covered for me against the Fairburns."


    "Not very effectively," I pointed out.


    "Agreed," Harry said with a shrug. "But to be fair, he couldn¡¯t do much more than that. His protection allowed me to live in relative peace for nearly a year. Poorly fed, yes, but in peace. The chaos only came when you showed up and brought it to the Anvil. If you hadn¡¯t crossed paths with Lindemann¡­" Harry trailed off, his tone growing darker. "Maybe the Fairburns and Valentine wouldn¡¯t have made their move."


    Sunset¡¯s car screeched to a halt in front of a three-story building with a collapsed roof and shattered windows. A couple of police cars and a morgue van were already parked near the doorless entrance. Two constables stood guard by the doorway. Sunset stepped out first, flashing his badge at the officers. They summoned their superior, and the detective waved for Harry and me to get out of the car. I followed reluctantly.


    From the ruins emerged a short, stout man with walrus-like ginger mustaches and a bald head that rivaled Harry¡¯s. His hair was even sparser, nearly shaved to the scalp.


    "Daniel Pumpkin, Chief Inspector of the Second Precinct," Sunset introduced him. Then he gestured toward us. "Sir Harry Smith and his apprentice, Duncan Kinkaid, Lord Loxlin."


    "A pleasure, gentlemen," Chief Inspector Pumpkin said, shaking our hands. "This way, please."


    Inside, the building resembled an empty shell. Massive beams still held the walls together, but the tiles from the roof had collapsed, the floorboards had rotted through, and thick layers of debris covered the ground. Empty window frames and the gaping holes in the roof allowed plenty of light to flood in, enough to illuminate the grisly sight in the center of the room.


    A woman¡¯s body was nailed to the wall, crucified. Seven rows of runic formulas, drawn in chalk, arched around her like a halo. She hung limply from the nails driven into the wall, her curly head bowed over a patch of floor that was unnervingly pristine compared to the surrounding wreckage.


    "What do you think?" Sunset asked Smith.


    "I need to take a closer look," Harry replied. "What do your staff wizards say?"


    "They¡¯re spouting nonsense. They claim the arch is a portal to the afterlife."


    Harry frowned skeptically.


    "Oh, believe me, they don¡¯t buy it themselves. They say the formulas have at least a dozen errors. This thing can¡¯t work ¨C not to mention it¡¯s written in chalk on ordinary bricks."


    Harry extended his hand, and from the void, a magical book appeared in his grasp.


    "May I?" he asked.


    "By all means," said Pumpkin.


    Harry opened the book and cast a large etheric formula into the air, speckled with traces of other elements.


    "It¡¯s already been used," the wizard said after a brief examination.


    "Are you sure?" Sunset asked. "This isn¡¯t the first arch we¡¯ve come across. But before, it showed up in cases involving missing persons. Instead of intact symbols, we¡¯d find walls crumbling into ash."


    "Then why are you so sure it¡¯s the same arch?"


    "The nail holes. They¡¯ve been on all of them."


    "There¡¯s not enough here to turn someone to ash," Harry pointed at the writings.


    "Another oddity," John added. "There was always very little ash at the crime scenes."


    "He could¡¯ve taken it with him," Pumpkin suggested.


    "Could have," Sunset agreed. "It¡¯s a decent way to cover your tracks."


    "Hmm¡­" Harry mused, then pulled another spell from the book. He clenched it in his hand and directed it at the floor. White streaks of crooked lines shimmered into view, like a faint reflection of the arch drawn on the wall. "This is only half of the ritual. The other half, the culprit took with him."


    "And in a hurry, judging by the mess he left behind," I added. "Do we know who this is?" I gestured toward the woman.


    John approached the corpse, grabbed her by the hair, and lifted her head.


    "Damn," I muttered, a curse escaping before I could stop myself. Harry and Pumpkin turned to me with interest, but John seemed to have been expecting my reaction. "Lindemann¡¯s daughter, right?"


    "Valerie Lindemann," Sunset confirmed. "One of the youngest. Did you know her?"


    I shook my head grimly, recalling one of the bloodsuckers tied and tossed into a dumpster by Valentine¡¯s men.


    "I saw her only once."


    "Chief," Harry said to Pumpkin, "would you mind giving us a moment?"


    The stout man exchanged a look with John, who nodded.


    "I¡¯ll wait for you outside," Pumpkin said, stepping away.


    "John, what the hell is going on here?" Harry demanded as soon as the inspector left.


    "You tell me."


    "You think Duncan and I are involved?"


    "Who the hell knows? Honestly, I can¡¯t completely rule it out. But this doesn¡¯t look like your work. You¡¯d be more likely to blow the building to pieces, and as for our young lord here ¨C he doesn¡¯t exactly do ¡®subtle.¡¯" Sunset shot me a pointed look, clearly aiming a jab in my direction. "You asked if we¡¯re still friends? There¡¯s your answer. The ¡®Archmaker¡¯ has been at it for two years now. Eight people have gone missing, all of them nobodies no one cared about. Before this, he screwed up only once. His victim turned out to be the illegitimate son of Clive Chapman, not some nameless punk.¡±


    "The Clive Chapman?" Harry clarified.


    "No, a different one with the same name," Sunset replied with biting sarcasm.


    "Uh, excuse me," I interjected. "Who¡¯s Clive Chapman?"


    "The Chief Justice. You¡¯ll probably meet him at the reception. And yes, he¡¯s well aware of your¡­ disputes with the vampires."


    "And?" Harry asked, not following.


    "If I find this situation suspicious, others will too," Sunset said, narrowing his eyes. "What do you think, Harry? Could the Fairburns make you out to be the Archmaker?"


    "John, that¡¯s such a stretch it¡¯s about to snap," Harry replied dryly.


    "Is it? Doesn¡¯t seem that way to me. Either way, we need to find him. I¡¯ll send you the photographs ¨C maybe you¡¯ll spot something new."


    "Fine," Harry agreed. "I¡¯ll take a look."


    The wizard tucked his book back into dimensional pocket and pulled a pocket watch from his vest.


    "It¡¯s time."


    "Not for me," I said, turning to Sunset. "Could you drop me off at the city archive?"


    "What are you up to?"


    "I want to dig into the history of the slums."


    "And what¡¯s that got to do with anything?"


    "Nothing," I admitted honestly, though John didn¡¯t believe me. Still, he dropped me off at the archive and even helped me gain access to some information.


    When I first arrived in the city, I¡¯d burned through a mountain of cash. Now it was time to recoup some of it. I wanted to check if the slums were really split between de Camp and Duke Farnell, or if there was still any free land left.


    I sifted through stacks of papers and eventually found some interesting information. Most of the land did indeed belong to de Camp ¨C not personally, but as city property. Numerous smaller plots were owned by a mix of large and small business owners, companies, and ordinary citizens. Judging by the map, each private holding was surrounded by city land.


    The Duke, on the other hand, wasn¡¯t playing such games. His slice, though smaller, was entirely his. No interspersed patches of others¡¯ property. It bordered directly on the docks and Heavy Bay, where the working class lived. Essentially, it was the prime spot.


    They kicked me out of the archive late in the evening. By the time I got home, night had fallen. The day had worn me out completely. I skipped dinner and headed straight to my room. I hadn¡¯t even started my list of spells yet ¨C and thinking about work before bed didn¡¯t seem like a good idea.


    Still, I had a start: I needed a variation of a searching spell specifically for working with documents. Not a basic one, but an advanced form.


    I hung my jacket on the back of the chair, removed the holstered pistol from my belt, and set it on the desk beside the card I¡¯d been practicing with.


    Three runes wouldn¡¯t be enough¡­ The formula itself needed to be enclosed in a circle ¨C not just one, but at least three. Then I¡¯d have to divide it into segments based on the cardinal directions. At least all the elements could be drawn with ether ¨C that made things simpler¡­


    "Duncan," a voice hissed angrily behind me.


    I spun around in an instant, drawing the pistol. The barrel passed straight through the transparent head of a ghost. Through the part that was still intact, anyway ¨C his left eye was a gaping hole, revealing the pulpy remains of his brain.


    "Simon!? Are you kidding me?!"


    "Kinkaid!" the ghost growled and lunged, wrapping his translucent hands around my throat.


    I felt pressure squeeze my neck. I tried to fight him off, but my hands passed right through his spectral body. I clawed at his fingers, trying to pry them loose, but only managed to scratch my own skin.


    The bloody bastard! Didn¡¯t he have anything better to do in the afterlife than make my life hell?


    I turned around, dragging him with me. Though Simon clung to my throat like a bulldog, he had no weight, and when I moved, his legs vanished into the floor beneath the desk. I grabbed the card with the spell, channeled a bit of ether into the runes, and watched as Simon snarled, his grip breaking as he recoiled. I gasped for air, relieved to be able to breathe again.


    "Kicked out of hell for bad behavior, were you?" I asked, glaring at him.


    Simon narrowed his one remaining eye at the glowing runes on the card and hissed, "It¡¯d be boring down there without you."


    What?! Sarcasm? He was coherent! Which meant ¨C bloody hell ¨C this wasn¡¯t just a shadow of Simon. This ghost had intelligence.


    My realization was interrupted by a scream from Cap¡¯s room next door. Simon seized the opportunity and lunged again. I slammed the card against his bullet-riddled forehead. There was a bright flash, and the ghost dissolved into waves of ether.


    I bolted into the hallway and saw Harry breaking down the door to the younger apprentice¡¯s room, a blue flash of ether lighting up the space. By the time I entered, nothing supernatural remained.


    Cap was standing on his bed, trembling with fear, while Harry was directing a small etherial light around the room.


    "Do we have a ghost problem?" I asked.


    "Yeah. Damn spectral rats," the warlock grumbled.


    "Rats? Was it a rat ghost? Not one of those we dealt with alongside McLilly, was it?" I paused, suddenly uneasy. "Please tell me Valentine won¡¯t be coming back from the dead too!"


    "Hmm¡­" Harry mused, clearly considering the possibility.

 Chapter 2

    ¡°He shouldn¡¯t¡­¡± Harry muttered, sipping his tea. ¡°No, he shouldn¡¯t! That¡¯s impossible!¡±


    I¡¯d never really thought about it before, but ghosts and spirits were, in a way, a type of elemental ¨C like the living rocks of the Ancient Stones of Bremor. Sometimes, they would take humanoid or animal forms, consume stockpiles of reservoir stones, and then wander the forest. But there¡¯s a big difference between encountering them in the woods ¨C a place where hunters don¡¯t go without a gun, special ammunition, and a readiness to face danger ¨C and meeting them in your bedroom, where you¡¯re no longer a hunter, but just a tired, relaxed person completely unprepared for a fight. Unexpected encounters with aggressive magical anomalies aren¡¯t great for anyone¡¯s mental health. And if you¡¯re also afraid of ghosts¡­ well, that¡¯s about the worst-case scenario for someone living near an etheric source.


    I didn¡¯t know what torments Cap¡¯s restless father¡¯s ghost had brought him, but Nathan was scared to death of ghosts. It took all we had to calm him down. Even hugging Knuckles, who had come running to the commotion armed with useless in this situation submachine gun, wasn¡¯t enough to help the kid fall asleep. Harry had to resort to a sleep spell to finally knock him out. After that, he cast a few more protective spells on the walls, and we relocated to the kitchen, where I recounted my encounter with Simon and voiced my fears about Valentine over a cup of tea.


    Harry grew deeply thoughtful. He was on his third cup of tea by then, muttering to himself: ¡°¡­Butcher¡¯s Trap, or maybe Seal of Woodhouse?¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to interrupt him, so I ran up to his study and grabbed a couple of books on etheric entities and protective spells. I opened my working journal and started sketching formulas. By the time Harry finally spoke, I¡¯d finished designing a monstrous construct of three interlocked rhombuses with fifteen runes. The rhombuses were nested one inside the other, with the sharp corners of the smaller ones touching the blunt edges of the larger ones. The entire structure was stabilized by metal and earth runes on the outside and etheric ones on the inside, making it solid, durable, and as heavy as a lumberjack¡¯s axe. But this led to yet another problem: my strength was barely enough to charge the etheric runes and lines. For the metal and earth runes, I¡¯d have to lug around the appropriate reservoir stones.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so!¡± Harry said suddenly, slamming his empty cup on the table. ¡°The likelihood of Valentine becoming a ghost is extremely low. According to some theories, a vampire¡¯s life is already a kind of afterlife. The dark energy that forms their spiritual heart doesn¡¯t leave the body after death. It¡¯s not definitive proof, but I¡¯m inclined to believe it.¡±


    ¡°And Simon? Wasn¡¯t he infected with vampirism?¡±


    ¡°Infected, yes, but not transformed!¡± Harry raised a knobby finger as if delivering a lecture and tried to take another sip from his empty cup. Realizing his mistake, he poured himself more tea and offered me some with a gesture. I slid my cup closer and nodded gratefully.


    ¡°Besides,¡± Harry continued, ¡°in his final moments, his overwhelming desire was to bash your head in.¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯s smart, damn it!¡± I burst out.


    ¡°Ah, well, I believe the mass deaths of chimeras and the ether-drenched air played a role there.¡±


    ¡°So, what? Is he going to visit me every night now?¡±


    ¡°Not tonight. You can sleep peacefully tonight.¡±


    ¡°Thanks a lot!¡± I snapped sarcastically, irritated by my own frustration and helplessness. ¡°And tomorrow? Should I be expecting another guest from the other side?¡±


    ¡°Probably¡­ yes.¡±


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± I sighed. ¡°Wait¡­ the Wilcox House! I¡¯ve already paid the rent there a month in advance. Sure, Flower won¡¯t be thrilled if I move in next to his precious sister, but at this point, that seems like the lesser evil.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m moving tomorrow,¡± I told Harry.


    ¡°It didn¡¯t work last time,¡± the wizard pointed out.


    ¡°I¡¯m not hiding from vampires this time,¡± I retorted.


    ¡°James¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll deal with it. I hope you¡¯ll solve this problem soon enough.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯ve got a few ideas, but the solution will be temporary. To truly fix this, the Anvil will need to be rebuilt. Then we could get rid of the ghosts entirely.¡±


    ¡°Completely?¡± I asked skeptically.


    ¡°What¡¯s bothering you?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Elementals'' bodies are usually full of valuable ingredients. In Bremor, that¡¯s a whole separate source of income. Isn¡¯t ectoplasm a valuable alchemical resource?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Harry muttered, scratching his chin. ¡°Ectoplasm is nothing compared to ghost teeth, claws, or eyes. Those are the real prizes ¨C damn hard to get.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of those as ingredients,¡± I admitted. ¡°Are they real?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because they¡¯re rarely used in alchemy. They¡¯re components for the most powerful artifacts. They are real!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the boss ¨C It¡¯s up to you,¡± I shrugged. ¡°Take a look at this.¡± I slid the journal with my spell diagram toward him.


    ¡°Ah, a warlock¡¯s education in action,¡± Harry grumbled.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good education!¡± I argued.


    ¡°Considering you were trained to be a warlock, I¡¯d say it¡¯s excellent! But for a wizard, it¡¯s not enough. You¡¯ll never have an unlimited reserve. You can¡¯t endlessly spray sparks at an enemy or hammer away with fireballs until you drop from exhaustion.¡±


    ¡°Strictly speaking, warlocks don¡¯t have unlimited reserves either,¡± I countered. ¡°The most complex feats leave them drained for a week and require significant preparation.¡±


    ¡°And the simplest ones ¨C capable of putting a hole in an unprotected head ¨C a warlock can cast thirty or forty times in a row.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s comparable to the average reserve of a combat staff.¡±


    ¡°Without the staff,¡± Harry reminded me. ¡°A warlock can attack faster than you can even open your spellbook. Forget about heavy, bulky spells until you can extract them from the page without even looking. Four corners, nine runes ¨C that¡¯s your limit.¡±


    ¡°But wizards have quick spells too ¨C one for each energy node. Stenn wrote that the integration is mostly random, but the odds improve with frequent use.¡±


    ¡°Ah, now I see what you¡¯re getting at,¡± Harry said, understanding dawning on his face. ¡°Duncan, forget about warlock tactics already. First, quick spells also drain your energy. Second, you¡¯re looking far too far ahead.¡±


    ¡°Admit it ¨C something useful, like your telekinesis or dimensional pocket, is way better than a chain of runes to scare off ghosts.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not exactly telekinesis,¡± Harry replied smugly, tugging at his neatly trimmed beard.


    ¡°What is it, then?¡±


    ¡°A sheep-shearing spell.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡±


    ¡°Exactly what I said. It¡¯s for shearing sheep. It took me eighteen years to open my Third Eye. All that time, I was collecting books on magic ¨C and, well, I still had to eat. I took any job I could get. Sheep-shearing was dull work, but it earned me an honest coin.¡±


    ¡°But once your Eye was open, why didn¡¯t you find a mentor? They would have taken you in.¡±


    ¡°Oh, they would have taken me in all right ¨C straight into servitude. Work for the master, fund his retirement, all in exchange for two or three scraps of advice and the right to read his library. After eighteen years of rejection, I wasn¡¯t exactly feeling generous toward their offers. And honestly, they didn¡¯t have much to give me at that point. By then, I had amassed a decent theoretical foundation. All I lacked was money. So, I took the first opportunity that came my way. Not a single regret.


    ¡°Stenn barely mentions it, but an integrated spell greatly expands a wizard¡¯s capabilities. I could hold you in the air for five minutes straight or chop down a tree in one swipe. But even the simplest etheric shield can stop my blade. Trust me ¨C a large arsenal of simple spells is far more useful in battle than heavy, complex constructs.¡±


    ¡°So, I can add all the basic shields to my first ten spells?¡±


    ¡°No! I said to focus on what you¡¯ll actually use.¡±


    ¡°This one, I¡¯ll definitely use,¡± I promised, pointing to the journal with my spell diagram.


    Harry crossed out my diagram and, next to it, sketched a cat¡¯s pupil. Inside it, he drew three ether runes stacked vertically. Two more runes were placed outside the figure, one on each side. Then he handed the journal back to me.


    ¡°With your basic understanding, you have an odd tendency to overcomplicate constructs. Now, I¡¯m not saying your design isn¡¯t functional ¨C It¡¯s solid, reliable¡­ As a support ritual, when you¡¯ve got plenty of time and a mountain of reservoir stones. Its combat value, however, is negligible. And as for your first ¡®quick spell,¡¯ don¡¯t worry ¨C It¡¯s anything but quick. It took me two years to integrate mine. First, learn to extract spells from paper, then I¡¯ll show you how I mastered the dimensional pocket ¨C It might help you too. Any more questions?¡±


    ¡°Just one.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°How many sheep can you shear at once?¡±


    ¡°Oh, for heaven¡¯s sake!¡± Harry groaned. ¡°Have some respect for your teacher. You¡¯ll be punished.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m still serving out the last punishment!¡± I protested.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°And clearly it wasn¡¯t harsh enough, if you¡¯re back to being cheeky. I¡¯ll have to come up with something more serious this time.¡±


    ¡°Harry, don¡¯t overdo it!¡±


    But Harry was already in character as the stern mentor.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see¡­ Let¡¯s see how you behave until your current punishment ends. I¡¯ll think of something that¡¯ll really get through to you. You¡¯ve gotten far too unruly.¡±


    ¡°Harry!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m kidding! What, only you get to joke around? Now go to bed. I¡¯ll check the grounds and perform a couple of rituals.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t stay up all night. There¡¯s the reception tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Harry replied with a grimace, as if he¡¯d just bitten into a lemon.


    ¡°Be a friend and hit me with a sleep spell, or I¡¯ll be tossing and turning all night.¡±


    Harry didn¡¯t even bother pulling out his book. He traced a short formula in the air with his finger and flicked it in my direction. I was nowhere near that level of control yet.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± I felt a yawn split my face in two and hurried off to bed. I don¡¯t even remember undressing, but in the morning, my clothes were neatly folded on the chair.


    The first thing I did was check on Cap. His room was empty, so I headed downstairs with peace of mind. The boy was bustling about the kitchen, cooking as if he hadn¡¯t seen any ghosts the night before. Oatmeal bubbled on the stove, sausages sizzled in the pan, and tea was brewing.


    ¡°Morning,¡± I said with a yawn.


    ¡°Morning,¡± Cap replied, throwing me a quick glance before flipping the sausages. ¡°Breakfast will be ready in five minutes.¡±


    ¡°Feeling better after last night?¡±


    Nathan¡¯s shoulders gave an involuntary twitch.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he lied.


    I could¡¯ve pressed him, but raising the younger apprentice was Harry¡¯s job. Who knew ¨C I could easily ruin the whole pedagogical process with my well-meaning attempts.


    ¡°Where is everyone?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Knuckles is polishing the car. The teacher¡¯s in the study.¡±


    ¡°Your brother¡¯s lost his mind. One of these days, he¡¯ll marry that hunk of metal.¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t,¡± Nathan shot back with a grin. ¡°One hunk of metal isn¡¯t enough for him. Sausages are done. Should I pour the oatmeal?¡±


    ¡°Pour it,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°I¡¯ll go get the others.¡±


    I shouted for Knuckles from the door, then headed to knock on the study door. Harry answered quickly. When the door opened, I saw the wizard¡¯s tired face, dark circles under his eyes.


    ¡°You were right!¡± Harry announced, shoving two vials into my hand.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t sleep at all, did you?¡± I asked, examining the clear liquid inside. It gave off a strong etheric aura. ¡°Ectoplasm?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the one. Though I don¡¯t need it myself¡­¡±


    ¡°Can I send it to my folks? Bryce will pay a good price.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but you¡¯ll need a special container, or it¡¯ll evaporate.¡±


    ¡°Even from a sealed vial?¡±


    ¡°Etheric base,¡± Harry reminded me. ¡°What did you want?¡±


    ¡°Come have breakfast. Nathan¡¯s got everything ready.¡±


    "One moment," Harry said, snatching the vials back. "It¡¯s better to leave these here."


    He disappeared through the door for a moment and returned with a large glass jar with a hermetically sealed clasped lid. The kind used for canned peaches ¨C except Harry had canned a ghost rat inside. It looked like a perfectly ordinary rat, nothing like the chimeras that had attacked the house alongside the vampires.


    ¡°Could you do the same with Simon?¡± I asked. Maybe I wouldn¡¯t have to move out after all.


    ¡°Unfortunately, it¡¯s hard to find a jar big enough for him.¡±


    ¡°Very funny. Seriously though?¡± I extended a hand and tapped on the glass.


    The rat, previously calm and lethargic, changed instantly. Its eyes lit up with a crimson glow, and its jaws filled with jagged fangs. It lunged at the glass, spreading itself across the surface in a distorted mass of translucent crimson eyes and grotesque teeth. I yanked my hand back.


    ¡°If Simon gets like that, a trap wouldn¡¯t hold him. But I¡¯m working on it,¡± Harry said.


    ¡°Great. And where are you taking this? Trying to scare the kid half to death?¡±


    ¡°The longer someone lives with their fears, the harder it is to get rid of them,¡± Harry replied, stepping ahead of me on the way to the kitchen.


    ¡°Harry, he¡¯s a child,¡± I reminded him.


    ¡°I highly doubt you were coddled growing up,¡± the wizard shot back. ¡°Otherwise, you wouldn¡¯t have gotten yourself tangled up with that spirit. If you want a boy to become a man, you have to treat him like one.¡±


    Harry stopped outside the kitchen door, left the jar on the floor just outside, and stepped inside. The Sparrow brothers, sitting at the table, had waited dutifully for the master of the house before starting breakfast.


    ¡°Smells wonderful,¡± Harry said, nodding approvingly at Cap.


    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    ¡°Recovered fully from yesterday¡¯s fright?¡± Harry asked.


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°So, if I showed you a ghost right now, you wouldn¡¯t scream like a little girl? Because I caught one.¡±


    Nathan¡¯s eyes widened, his shoulders stiffened, but he answered stubbornly:


    ¡°No, sir.¡±


    ¡°Excellent! Let¡¯s deal with it before breakfast.¡±


    Harry turned back to the hallway, grabbed the jar, and placed it on the table next to the kettle. Cap went pale, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white. Knuckles, meanwhile, looked at his brother with concern and opened his mouth to say something, but Harry cut him off.


    ¡°The jar is enchanted. It can¡¯t get out.¡±


    Cap stared at the rat, both mesmerized and terrified. The creature had reverted to its regular appearance, aside from its ghostly translucence.


    ¡°Should I dispel it myself, or will you give it a try?¡± Harry asked.


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t know how,¡± Nathan stammered, shaking his head.


    Harry tipped the jar on its side to reveal the seal on the lid. The ghost inside flared up again, spreading itself across the glass in rage, but from the Sparrows¡¯ angle, it didn¡¯t look nearly as terrifying. The lid was on the way to the picture.


    ¡°You don¡¯t even need to activate it like the ring we practiced with. The seal works on contact.¡±


    ¡°Can I practice first¡­ on an empty jar?¡± Nathan asked.


    ¡°What would you practice? Touching the lid?¡±


    The boy sighed, then reached out with a trembling hand. As soon as his fingers brushed the central rune on the lid, the seal flared with ether. The ghost inside stopped its furious rampage, dissolved into blue smoke, and fell apart. Harry turned the jar upright so Nathan could see what was happening inside. The smoke quickly dissipated, condensing into small droplets of ectoplasm at the bottom.


    Simon didn¡¯t turn into goo like this ¨C another point in favor of my theory that Feron hadn¡¯t stopped ruining my life.


    Harry washed his hands quickly and took a seat at the table.


    ¡°Let¡¯s eat,¡± he said, stabbing a sausage with his fork and bringing it to his mouth. But he froze mid-motion, his eyes going glassy. I¡¯d seen that expression before ¨C it usually meant unexpected guests.


    ¡°Who is it?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Your old acquaintance.¡±


    Ellie or Finella? Probably the first.


    ¡°Am I supposed to guess? Maybe just tell me the name?¡±


    ¡°Kate,¡± Harry said.


    Lindemann... Master vampire... The daughter of a bloodsucker who had used me to eliminate his competition and tried to kill me through others. I wondered what she needed after my cousin Evan twisted her father¡¯s head off. Then again, she might not know about that last part. But she definitely knew that Harry and I had visited the site where her sister had been crucified.


    ¡°I¡¯ll escort her!¡± Cap immediately volunteered. Vampires, unlike ghosts, didn¡¯t scare him ¨C which was a mistake. With this lady, you had to be on your guard.


    I set down my cutlery.


    ¡°She¡¯s alone?¡±


    ¡°Alone,¡± Harry confirmed.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll go meet her.¡±


    I didn¡¯t head out right away. First, I went back to my room, strapped on the gun holster, slipped on my rings and amulet cufflinks, slung my satchel with potions and the brick amulet over my shoulder, and only then stepped outside.


    I passed the traps and seals in the park in front of the manor and finally reached the wrought-iron gates, where Kate had parked her shiny blue roadster. True to her style, the vampire was once again dressed in a bright red suit and a matching wide-brimmed hat. Only her gloves and oversized sunglasses were black.


    ¡°Hello, Duncan,¡± she called, waving her hand with a bright, lipstick-stained smile.


    I approached the gate and opened it.


    ¡°Good afternoon. To what do I owe the pleasure?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t I drop by to check on an old friend¡¯s health?¡±


    ¡°Considering the kind of interest your father took in my health, and how that turned out, I¡¯m starting to worry.¡±


    ¡°Oh, stop it. You and I have a different story. I even saved your life a few times.¡±


    ¡°Why are you here, Kate?¡± I asked seriously.


    The vampire stopped smiling and answered just as seriously:


    ¡°Have you seen her?¡±


    ¡°Your sister?¡±


    Kate nodded.


    ¡°They won¡¯t release the body. They won¡¯t tell me anything. I had to pay an outrageous sum just to learn they suspect some kind of maniac. Apparently, he sends sinners straight to the next world. Is it true?¡±


    ¡°Apparently,¡± I replied, deciding not to deny it. The information had already leaked.


    ¡°Duncan, I want to find him and rip his rotten heart from his chest. I need details. Everything you saw. I¡¯ll owe you one.¡±


    What could be worse than being in debt to a vampire? Only having a vampire in debt to you.


    ¡°Sunset asked me not to talk about it,¡± I lied. Or did he really say something like that?


    ¡°Duncan, darling,¡± Kate said, her lips darkening. The red lipstick deepened, turning the shade of ripe cherries while keeping the same glossy sheen. Her voice dropped, becoming impossibly low and enticing, imbued with an immense depth, a hint of longing, and vulnerability. ¡°Please, tell me.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°What?¡± Kate looked genuinely surprised.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re joking? That was too easy,¡± she said, as her lips returned to their usual color.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand you.¡±


    ¡°Never mind,¡± she murmured, her voice once again sultry, and her lips turning cherry-red once more. ¡°Go on, sweetie.¡±


    I told her everything, starting from our arrival at the crime scene. I even mentioned the color of Chief Inspector Pumpkin¡¯s shoes. I hadn¡¯t expected such trivial details to have stayed lodged in my brain.


    ¡°Thank you, Duncan. You¡¯ve really helped me. Whatever you might think of our relationship, I¡¯d like to stay your friend.¡±


    Something primal stirred in me. Despite the fact that five minutes ago, I couldn¡¯t care less about her, it suddenly became clear to me that having this woman was all I¡¯d ever want. Only she could make me happy! I needed to explain this to her, but Kate spoke first:


    ¡°Wait! Don¡¯t say anything.¡± She pulled a small shiny revolver out of her pocket. ¡°It¡¯s empty. If I asked you to press it to your temple and pull the trigger, would you do it?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I replied, without the slightest hesitation.


    ¡°Ha! Boy, you¡¯ve got serious problems with compulsion. And I won¡¯t take advantage of it, only because I¡¯d like to keep things friendly. Call me when you recover. No, don¡¯t say anything! And this is a gift,¡± she said, placing the revolver in my hand. ¡°Put it in your pocket. Don¡¯t press it to your temple! Goodbye.¡±


    Kate slid into her roadster and was gone from the street before I could even think of objecting.


    For a few minutes, I stood there staring after the car. Then the absurdity and irrationality of everything that had just happened hit me like a ton of bricks. I pulled the revolver from my pocket, broke the barrel, and saw a fully loaded chamber. A chill ran down my spine. I dumped the bullets into my palm and saw fire and iron magic infused into each one. These little devils could punch through not one, but ten thick skulls with ease!


    ¡°Problems with compulsion? This is a complete disaster!¡±

 Chapter 3

    "Are you saying I have no willpower at all?!" I asked Harry after dissecting my conversation with Kate.


    "More like this is a side effect of removing the seal from your third eye. Your 24/7 magical vision bonus has to come with a trade-off."


    "Why do I feel like this ''bonus'' just turns every advantage into one massive disadvantage? It really makes you wonder if opening the other seals is worth it. What other side effects are waiting? Open the spiritual heart, and bam ¨C you die because your real heart gives out."


    "It''s worth it!" Harry declared firmly. "The spiritual heart means better health and an extra ten years of life. And the elemental source? That increases your overall reservoir and gives you access to one of the elemental powers."


    "There are wizards who get by just fine without them," I countered, though not with much enthusiasm. "Still, I know I need to get rid of the legacy of Ferrish in my spiritual body. Especially the Hunter¡¯s Mark. It used to give me some protection, scaring off weaker predators, but now my life¡¯s too full of vampires, wizards, and sorcerers. It doesn¡¯t intimidate them ¨C it intrigues them. It¡¯s more of a liability than a defense. But I¡¯ll deal with that later. Right now, I need to focus on breaking the compulsion."


    "I¡¯ll come up with something," Harry promised. "We¡¯ll start with the classic option ¨C a protective amulet and then¡­"


    "Harry, go to bed," I advised. "There¡¯s another battle waiting for us tonight. Sleep first. Then, if there¡¯s time, you can work on the amulet. Make something that¡¯ll last for the evening, and we¡¯ll figure out the rest later."


    No solution is as permanent as a temporary one: a wooden wedge under a short table leg can stay there for ten years; a bent nail can replace a door latch; and Harry¡¯s new amulet had every chance of staying glued to my chest as long as the brick had made itself at home in my satchel of potions. The problem was, Harry had slept until six and rushed to finish the amulet in a hurry. He¡¯d used an unpolished, rough citrine as the core. Its sharp edges dug into my skin, and the leather cord pressing it against my body only made it worse, biting into my neck whenever I moved. It was irritating ¨C almost as much as Harry¡¯s lack of guarantees.


    Harry himself wasn¡¯t exactly a specialist in mental magic. He relied on sheer willpower for protection from compulsions. But he did have books in the right field. Experiments revealed that I could be hypnotized into barking like a dog with a simple charm. I did have willpower, but the trauma to my third eye made me hypersensitive to even the faintest magical fluctuations. It was like staring at the sun without blinking. Over time, that sensitivity was supposed to fade, but for now, I had to wear a standard anti-compulsion amulet. Hopefully, no one at the reception would try to tempt me into something I¡¯d regret.


    We decided not to bring Cap to the reception. He was still too young for the terrarium we were walking into ¨C a labyrinth that even Harry and I barely understood. Fairburn could¡¯ve easily manipulated him. But me? That was a different story. My mask of a titled rural bumpkin was an excellent shield.


    Knuckles drove us to the mayor¡¯s office, dropping us off at the servants'' entrance an hour before the reception began. A wiry secretary immediately escorted us to the boss. Technically, de Camp was the mayor, but Farnell¡¯s status as a city of national importance put it on par with the counties. The money flowing through its ports and docks dwarfed that of most counties, making the power struggles here far more vicious and the politicians more ruthless. At forty-five, Lionel had already been elected to this position twice, with a four-year break in between, so underestimating him was not an option.


    The secretary led us into His Worship¡¯s office but didn¡¯t follow us inside. De Camp greeted us from behind an ornate desk. Its polished surface was meticulously tidy: a telephone, a family photograph, two fountain pens in a stand, and no paperwork ¨C save for a single sheet covered in fine handwriting that looked like a diagram or a plan of some sort.


    De Camp himself was a slim, fair-haired man who looked just over forty. His face was clean-shaven, his hair gleamed with styling product, and a white bow tie complemented his sleek black suit perfectly. The suit had been tailored so well it not only fit like a glove but probably enhanced his natural proportions.


    The mayor rose as we entered, smiling broadly, spreading his arms, and stepping out from behind his desk.


    "Harry, Duncan," he said warmly.


    "We haven¡¯t been introduced yet, my dear sir," I said before I could think better of it. A series of emotions ¨C offense, then surprise ¨C flickered across de Camp¡¯s face.


    ¡°Forgive me, Lord Loxlin. I was just hoping we could become friends.¡±


    I was definitely not seasoned enough to play these kinds of games. The only way to avoid playing was to snuff out the mayor¡¯s enthusiasm right away. He was leaving a good impression on me, and that was unsettling. I couldn¡¯t tell if the feeling was genuine or not. Either way, I wasn¡¯t about to bare my neck just to make things easier for him.


    ¡°In that case, Lionel, we¡¯re fine. Friends it is.¡±


    ¡°Friends indeed,¡± he said, extending his hand for a shake. ¡°Just don¡¯t call me that in public, and I¡¯ll make sure not to cross any lines myself. Shall we sit?¡±


    We took the chairs in front of his desk, while de Camp returned to his leather office chair.


    ¡°Harry, I know you want to destroy the Fairburns. Both of you do. And I sincerely wish you the best of luck. But¡­¡± He gave us a stern look. ¡°Not tonight, gentlemen. Not here. This is your first public appearance, and if it ends in a brawl, public opinion will crucify you. You¡¯ll be labeled savages who belong under lock and key.¡±


    Harry shrugged nonchalantly.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what people already say about me? That image has worked for me for years. Quite successfully, I might add.¡±


    ¡°Harry, the last time a Place of Power was established in Duthigh was ten years ago.¡±


    ¡°I remember,¡± the wizard replied. ¡°The Marquis of Pulley¡¯s work formed the foundation of my ritual.¡±


    ¡°But Pulley had a team of seventeen gifted practitioners for his ritual! In Duthigh¡¯s Imperial Order, he was just a low-ranking officer. And yet, after that, he was promoted to Knight Grand Cross. Why don¡¯t I see your knighthood insignia? I asked for it! Do you know how many strings I had to pull in the government to get that title for you? And in such a short time, no less.¡±


    Harry grimaced, pulling a small, gilded medallion of a Knight Bachelor ¨C a sword and spurs ¨C from his pocket. He pinned it begrudgingly to the right lapel of his jacket. That little trinket gave him the right to be addressed as ¡°Sir.¡±


    ¡°Which order are you in?¡± I asked, feigning casual interest.


    Harry¡¯s grimace deepened.


    ¡°None,¡± he snapped. ¡°And it wasn¡¯t the king who knighted me ¨C it was a prince passing through Farnell.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be modest. You saved his life,¡± de Camp laughed.


    Harry shot him a dark look, which only made Lionel laugh harder. Clearly, there was more to that story than either of them was letting on.


    ¡°Oh, lighten up!¡± de Camp said, still grinning. ¡°Play along for a month, be a good boy, and you¡¯ll rise higher. Maybe even to a baronetcy. Besides,¡± the lord-mayor¡¯s tone shifted to something far more serious, ¡°you wouldn¡¯t want to please Vincent, would you?¡± He mentioned Baron Fairburn¡¯s name with a grim expression.


    ¡°You think a good beating would please him?¡±


    ¡°Without a doubt. He¡¯s hired a Maasai warlock as his bodyguard.¡±


    ¡°The Maasai¡­ as in the tribe that slowed down the colonial armies in South Africa?¡± Harry asked.


    ¡°East Africa,¡± de Camp corrected. ¡°I¡¯ve looked into him. He¡¯s less a bodyguard and more of an expensive assassin.¡±


    ¡°Interesting¡­¡± Harry said with a wicked grin.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fall for his provocations,¡± de Camp pleaded. ¡°This is one of those situations where a fight won¡¯t help you. And Vincent will just keep spending money.¡±


    ¡°You said it yourself,¡± I pointed out, ¡°a warlock¡¯s combat potential is bigger.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say it like that!¡± Harry protested indignantly.


    ¡°But it¡¯s true,¡± Lionel cut in firmly. ¡°Harry, be careful. The time to act isn¡¯t here yet.¡±


    De Camp and I chatted a little longer. He came across as caring, involved, and, overall, a decent person. But I didn¡¯t know him well enough to judge his sincerity. And honestly, can a politician even be sincere? After some time, we made our way down to the reception hall. Light jazz music played in the background, the crowd was slowly gathering, and waiters weaved through the room with trays of champagne.


    De Camp signaled one of the waiters by holding up three fingers.


    ¡°Remember this man¡¯s face,¡± Lionel advised us. ¡°He¡¯ll be circling nearby. I¡¯d suggest you take your champagne from his tray specifically.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    We each took a glass. I tried to decline, since I¡¯d never been a fan of bubbly drinks, but His Worship insisted. The very first sip caught me off guard. Instead of champagne, the glass held sparkling apple juice.


    And then the routine began. De Camp introduced us to people. Names and faces blurred together in my mind, and the parade of important strangers eventually pushed my patience to its limits. Just when I thought I couldn¡¯t take any more, the stream of introductions finally slowed. But that wasn¡¯t enough for de Camp. He started escorting us around the hall, introducing us to those who were far too important to initiate conversation themselves. Thankfully, there weren¡¯t too many of those: a duke, an earl, a couple of foreign dignitaries, and a handful of members of parliament.


    The hours flew by, and it was finally time for de Camp to take the microphone. He handed our safety over to his secretary and headed for the stage to talk about the bright future just around the corner. I could¡¯ve stayed to listen, but my attention was snagged by a flash of bright red hair in the crowd.


    Finella was wearing a long black dress and elbow-length gloves. She waved at me, then pointed at herself and a nearby column.


    "Harry, I¡¯m stepping out for a moment," I said.


    "Don¡¯t run into James," the wizard warned.


    "He wouldn¡¯t cause a scene here, would he?"


    Ducking into the crowd, I made my way to the column and took a seat on a chair against the wall. A few minutes later, Fin appeared and plopped down beside me.


    ¡°Hey, Duncan.¡±


    ¡°Hey, Spark. I didn¡¯t think James would let you out of his sight.¡±


    ¡°Who said he did? I barely managed to lose him in the crowd. I even had to use a concealment amulet.¡± She tapped a small pendant with a red stone hanging against her chest.


    We sat in silence for a moment.


    ¡°How are you holding up?¡± I asked, just to fill the awkward pause.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Finella said with a dismissive wave. ¡°Goat dealt with her issues, and I¡¯ll deal with mine.¡±


    ¡°Your situations are a little different. No one kidnapped her.¡±


    Maybe it was Finella¡¯s kidnapping that had helped Ellie come to terms with what had happened. It had helped her accept that the vampire she¡¯d shot had fully deserved his fate.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Spark repeated, brushing the topic off again. ¡°It¡¯s over.¡±


    Silence fell once more, this time stretching even longer.


    De Camp wrapped up his speech about the bright future waiting just around the corner and began singing Harry¡¯s praises.


    ¡°They¡¯re about to call him to the stage,¡± I said. ¡°Shall we watch?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    We left our little refuge by the column and returned to the main hall.


    ¡°Finella, my dear, it¡¯s been ages!¡± called a lanky brunette with a loosened tie. He drained a full glass of champagne in one go, then waved down a passing waiter to grab two more. I thought he might offer the second to Finella, but no ¨C he drained that one too, immediately setting the empty glass back on the tray.


    ¡°Simon,¡± Spark greeted him. ¡°Isn¡¯t it a little early to start? Meet¡­¡±


    The stranger shook his head and cut her off. ¡°How else am I supposed to tolerate these snobs?¡±


    I studied him more closely. The new Simon bore a passing resemblance to the old one: tall, dark-haired, a dimpled chin. The difference was that this Simon had less arrogance in his eyes and more alcohol in his bloodstream. We¡¯d only crossed paths a few times with an old one as adults, but I¡¯d never seen him drunk before. Another thing that set this Simon apart ¨C he was a sorcerer. At the subtle, energetic level, his elemental source glowed purple in his lower abdomen ¨C a lightning core.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to come,¡± Finella pointed out.


    ¡°Harold made me. He¡¯s still trying to fulfill Mother¡¯s last wish and turn me into a decent person. Probably the only one who still believes that¡¯s possible. Anyway, I¡¯ve done my duty ¨C shown my face to the public. Now I can leave. To the club? We can take your friend here along. Coming with us, mate?¡±


    Simon reached out, trying to clap me on the shoulder, but I stopped his hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll have to decline, sir.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a sensitive one here, haven¡¯t we? Kid, I know places you¡¯ve never even dreamed of. Want me to take you to the Golden Tear?¡±


    What an insufferable man.


    ¡°My last visit to that club didn¡¯t end well.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because I wasn¡¯t with you!¡± Simon declared, once again trying to slap his hand on my shoulder. ¡°With me, no one would dare lay a finger on you!¡±


    De Camp called Harry up to the stage, and I used the moment to rid myself of the drunkard who was already drawing side glances from the other guests.


    ¡°They¡¯re about to give my mentor an award.¡±


    ¡°A mentor? Sledgehammer took on a student? Wait¡­ I¡¯ve heard of you,¡± Simon said, draining his glass and waving down a waiter for another round. He repeated the same trick as before, grabbing two glasses and draining both in quick succession. ¡°You¡¯re that¡­ bumpkin Augustus was spitting on.¡±


    ¡°Simon!¡± Spark snapped, beating me to a reply. ¡°Watch your language!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not my words!¡± Simon exclaimed. ¡°That¡¯s Fairburn¡¯s. And if that bastard¡¯s spitting on someone, they must be a good person! Didn¡¯t you also take down Lindemann¡¯s youngest bloodsucker?¡±


    ¡°How are you so well-informed?¡± I didn¡¯t bother clarifying that I¡¯d actually taken down two.


    ¡°People were talking about it at the club. Fin, you could¡¯ve introduced us by now. I feel like an idiot.¡±


    Spark rolled her eyes in exasperation. Simon raised his glass to his lips but didn¡¯t get the chance to drink; an older man with a bushy mustache grabbed him by the ear, yanking him down. The man was nearly a head shorter than Simon, but his grip was firm.


    ¡°Shaming the family again, are we?¡± the old man growled, thumping his cane against the marble floor. To my surprise, I recognized him ¨C It was Professor Chapman, whom de Camp had introduced me to about an hour ago. I¡¯d forgotten his first name, but his face stuck in my memory because he¡¯d been presented alongside his son, Clive Chapman, a judge whose illegitimate son had recently been abducted by the Bowmaster.


    ¡°Ow! Ow!¡± Simon yelped, spilling half his champagne on his jacket. ¡°Grandpa, you¡¯ll tear it off!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d better not see you here in five minutes!¡± the old man barked. ¡°Get to your club and drink yourself into a squealing mess there!¡±


    ¡°Father, let him go. You know it won¡¯t help,¡± said the judge, who had followed closely behind the professor.


    ¡°Grandpa, listen to Dad. People are staring,¡± Simon added with a smirk.


    The elder Chapmans bore little resemblance to Simon. They were shorter by a head but far broader in the shoulders and hips, with rounded chins and impressive mustaches. The judge¡¯s hair even had a reddish tint, though that wasn¡¯t as noticeable in the professor¡¯s case, as his hair was almost entirely gray. Neither of them was gifted.


    "Mr. Chapman," Finella greeted the professor politely. "Your Honor," she added, giving a slight bow to the judge. While he technically wasn¡¯t part of the peerage, his position as Chief Justice made him far too important to ignore. In fact, people in government roles often held more power than the nobility. Still, nobles controlled most of the land and businesses that thrived on it¡ªnot to mention the Places of Power, which gave them even greater influence.


    De Camp, for instance, might be the chief executive of Farnell, but only until his term ended. Meanwhile, the Duke of Farnell ¨C with his castle, which held the Ice Place of Power, his share in the port and docks, and his land in Old City, the City, and Shiny ¨C would remain in place until death.


    ¡°Good evening, young lady,¡± the professor said, releasing Simon¡¯s ear. The judge inclined his head politely.


    ¡°Phew,¡± the drunken troublemaker exhaled, rubbing his ear furiously.


    ¡°And what the hell are you even doing here?¡± the professor demanded.


    ¡°Harold made me.¡±


    ¡°That man keeps sticking his nose where it doesn¡¯t belong,¡± the professor grumbled.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it Mother¡¯s last wish?¡± Simon replied with a shrug, downing the last of his champagne. ¡°The club?¡± he asked, turning to us.


    Finella shook her head, and I excused myself by saying I had to wait for Harry. The wizard, meanwhile, had just received a certificate in a glass frame. He held it up for the audience to see, and the portion of the crowd not watching our little scene erupted in applause.


    ¡°Shame¡­¡± Simon muttered, pretending to move toward the exit. But then he froze, pointing a finger. ¡°Is that scruffy beast headed this way?¡±


    A towering giant of a man was cutting a direct path through the crowd, taller than Harry and broader in the shoulders than both elder Chapmans combined. His dark skin gleamed under the chandeliers, and his imposing presence turned heads as he moved. His shaggy appearance came from the hundreds of thin braids cascading down his head like a mane, but he was dressed sharply in an immaculate three-piece suit.


    Tearing my gaze away from his face, I finally noticed that the giant was clearing the way for Lord Fairburn, his son, and another man.


    ¡°Ha,¡± Simon snorted. ¡°Think they¡¯re coming for you?¡± he asked, glancing at me.


    I didn¡¯t answer, but I did unbutton my jacket for easier access to my pistol.


    When they were just a few meters away, the giant slowed, allowing Vincent to step forward.


    ¡°Lady and gentlemen,¡± he greeted.


    We responded in different ways: the Chapmans answered formally, Simon cheerfully, while Finella and I remained wary.


    ¡°Your Honor,¡± Vincent addressed the judge. ¡°Might we trouble you for a moment of your time?¡±


    ¡°How can I be of service?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to introduce you to Mr. Patrick Wimbush, Knight of the Order of Merit from New Freeland.¡±


    A lean man with a friendly face and cockroach-like whiskers stepped forward. The mentioned order hung around his neck on a red ribbon edged with gold. The inscription around the gilded oak tree on his oval badge read: ¡®Faithful in Deed, Pure in Honor.¡¯ If that was true, what the hell was he doing in Fairburn¡¯s company?


    ¡°A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wimbush,¡± the judge said, then took the opportunity to introduce the rest of us. Much to my surprise, it turned out his son went by the last name Kettle and even held the title of baronet. Illegitimate? ¡°How are things in the southernmost dominion of the empire?¡± the judge asked politely.


    ¡°Quite well, thank you. This year¡¯s pearl harvest is up ten percent.¡±


    ¡°Is that your business?¡±


    ¡°No, I run a small cattle farm. Meat is in high demand when all you have around is fish.¡±


    ¡°And what brings you to our region?¡±


    ¡°Business, mostly. But I came to Farnell specifically to visit family.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think these discussions will interest the younger crowd,¡± Lord Fairburn interjected.


    ¡°Boring,¡± August confirmed. He was about to add more, but Baronet Kettle cut him off.


    ¡°What are you talking about? Family drama is the most interesting thing there is!¡±


    Grandfather Chapman shot a stern glare at his grandson, but this time Simon chose to ignore it. Mr. Wimbush cast an uncertain glance at the elder Fairburn, who gave him a small nod.


    ¡°Family ¨C specifically, my cousin, to be precise. We lost contact about five years ago, and when I arrived, I found out she¡¯d passed away, her husband had hanged himself out of grief, and their two boys were left orphaned.¡±


    What the hell?! That¡¯s the story of the Sparrow brothers!

 Chapter 4

    "Ah, so this is the provocation," I thought. Knuckles had said they found no close relatives. Still, New Freeland wasn¡¯t exactly close by. And Wimbush, that cockroach, might even turn out to be legitimate.


    ¡°This is¡­¡± Finella began.


    ¡°A very sad story,¡± I interrupted before she could finish. The falsehood in my voice was obvious to everyone, but I kept a stone-faced expression and turned my gaze to the stage. Harry was just stepping down, apparently making his way toward us, though he was being intercepted by well-wishers as he went. Good. That gave me a chance to end this farce before he reached us. ¡°Please, Mr. Wimbush, go on.¡±


    ¡°As the boys¡¯ only living relative, I must take guardianship of them!¡± Wimbush declared with such fervor that his cockroach-like mustache bristled as though electrified.


    ¡°A noble decision,¡± the judge affirmed.


    ¡°But there¡¯s a problem. The children were placed in an orphanage, but they escaped, and now the orphanage management refuses to release their paperwork,¡± Wimbush continued.


    ¡°I can understand their hesitation,¡± the judge replied. ¡°The parents of orphans often leave behind property, which is used to support them. The orphanage may fear that if they release the paperwork, you¡¯ll simply disappear with the assets.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid, Lord Chapman,¡± Vincent Fairburn interjected smoothly, ¡°that this situation is a bit different. I trust that Mr. Wimbush¡¯s Order of Merit is a sufficient guarantee of his trustworthiness. We¡¯ve already hired a detective to locate the children. The first thing he uncovered was that the children¡¯s property wasn¡¯t profitable. The real estate was sold at auction for the lowest price, and the children fled the orphanage shortly after being placed there ¨C about five years ago. Yet, according to the records, their escape is noted as happening only recently.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said the judge. ¡°And funds continued to be drawn during that time, likely to the full satisfaction of the orphanage management. I can certainly turn that nest upside down and see the guilty punished, but without the children, you won¡¯t get the papers.¡±


    "Oh, no need to worry, Your Honor!" Wimbush exclaimed. "I¡¯m more than willing to sign a waiver right now, transferring any property to a suitable charitable organization or institution¡ª"


    "That¡¯s not how guardianship works," the judge interrupted. "You don¡¯t have the authority to dispose of their assets at will¡ªif there¡¯s anything left to begin with."


    Wimbush and Fairburn exchanged glances.


    "If there is anything," Vincent said smoothly, as if it were a mere suggestion, "you could always pay an equivalent sum out of your own pocket."


    "Of course!" Wimbush rushed to agree. "For me, it¡¯s the children that matter most. But even when I find them, I fear the orphanage management will continue to obstruct me, and my time in the metropole is limited. The locals back home ¨C they¡¯re not exactly reliable workers. Without a firm hand, they¡¯ll grow lazy, and I could lose the business I¡¯ve spent years building!¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± the judge said after a pause, ¡°I¡¯ll help you. Find the children, and the matter will be resolved promptly. But you will have to sign that waiver ¨C I won¡¯t let you back out of it now. I will have my secretary compile a selection of charitable organizations for Mr. Wimbush to consider.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Lord!¡± Wimbush said, with an almost exaggerated bow of gratitude.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± added Fairburn, meeting my eyes directly. ¡°I believe this will be resolved in a matter of days.¡±


    By the time Harry fought his way through the crowd of well-wishers eager to curry favor with Farnell¡¯s newest power player, Wimbush and Fairburn were already retreating. But Harry reached them before they could fully slip away.


    ¡°What sort of scheme have you gotten tangled up in this time?¡± wizard asked.


    ¡°Sir Harry,¡± Vincent greeted him in a carefully restrained tone. Harry responded with an expressive look but took several moments before forcing himself to reply.


    ¡°Lord Fairburn.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re strong,¡± said the black giant suddenly. It was the first thing he had said throughout the entire conversation.


    ¡°And you¡¯re the guy they hired to kill me, huh?¡± Harry said, his tone light but sharp. ¡°Think you can handle it?¡±


    ¡°I always win,¡± the giant replied with quiet confidence.


    ¡°Lord Fairburn!¡± Chief Justice suddenly demanded, his voice filled with outrage. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡±


    ¡°Your Honor,¡± August intervened quickly, ¡°I believe you¡¯ve misunderstood. Bolaji was hired as security! He simply believes he can defeat any opponent. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s no secret that our relationship with Sir Harry has been¡­ strained. He¡¯s notorious for his unruly and unpredictable temperament. And as for his student, Lord Loxlin ¨C well, didn¡¯t he cause a scene at the House¡¯s main trade office?¡±


    "I object, Your Honor!" I said. If August had started digging his own grave, it was only fair to give him a hand with the shovel. "Rumor had it that Sir August hired an assassin to eliminate me."


    ¡°Oh, I heard that at the club too!¡± Simon chimed in, perfectly timed.


    "So I went to the Fairburn House to get some answers in a conversation with its head," I continued, "but instead, the guards took liberties, speaking indecently about my clan and family before resorting to force. I had no choice but to defend myself. There were plenty of witnesses, by the way. I even saw one lady in the hall tonight. I¡¯m sure she wouldn¡¯t mind sharing her recollection of events as a neutral observer."


    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary,¡± Vincent said, cutting me off. ¡°I apologize for that incident. We both let our tempers get the better of us.¡±


    ¡°Did we?¡± I asked, mockingly incredulous. ¡°Uncouth country bumpkin. Bloody upstart brat. You didn¡¯t mince words, Lord Fairburn, while I refrained from such liberties.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s bad enough that you¡¯ve accused my family of hiring an assassin!¡± Vincent snapped, barely holding back his anger.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± I said, deliberately shifting my gaze to the black giant.


    ¡°You¡¯re bold!¡± The giant laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. ¡°But too weak to back it up. Shut your mouth.¡±


    The crystal on his chest flared like glowing embers. My head spun, but I forced myself not to react. My jaw locked, my lips stuck together, and I realized I wouldn¡¯t be able to speak anytime soon. So I gave him a sweet smile and mimed locking my lips and tossing away the key. Let it look like I¡¯d said all I needed to.


    ¡°Really?¡± Harry said, noticing my struggle. ¡°And who are you to silence my student?¡±


    ¡°Bolaji Lengai, of the Nakuru tribe. Great warrior of the Rain God, slayer of shamans and masters of the elements,¡± he said, matter-of-factly, as though stating a job title. No pomp. No flourish.


    Ah, I thought. Masters of the elements must mean sorcerers, and shamans likely refers to wizards, probably with some ethnic nuance. Either way, it was clear: the brute had just openly admitted to killing people like Harry.


    ¡°Not much of an accomplishment,¡± Harry said with a smirk. ¡°I¡¯ve taken out a fair few warlocks myself.¡±


    ¡°Sir Harry!¡± the judge exclaimed in outrage. ¡°That¡¯s a bold statement to make in the presence of a servant of the law.¡±


    ¡°On the battlefield, Your Honor. On the battlefield. The goddess of justice did not object.¡±


    ¡°Will you wager your life against mine?¡± Bolaji offered, his tone casual but charged.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have you both locked up,¡± Chapman said with finality. Bolaji looked like he wanted to object but wisely held his tongue. August stepped in again, defusing the tension.


    ¡°Apologies, Lord Chapman,¡± August said smoothly. ¡°Bolaji didn¡¯t mean to suggest a fight to the death.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± Simon exclaimed. ¡°A sporting duel, then? In that case, I call first match! How about the dueling hall at the shooting club ¨C ow!¡± His grandfather grabbed him by the ear again. ¡°Grandpa ¨C ow, ow!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be taking our leave,¡± Vincent Fairburn said hastily. ¡°Bolaji, come.¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    No matter how hard I tried to be a good person, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a certain satisfaction watching people like the Fairburns squirm. But this was only the beginning ¨C an unpleasant little scene for the public. The real fight would come later, and I had no idea when. What would Fairburn do with his newfound knowledge? Cap was alone at home. Knuckles was alone in the parking lot. And there was no one nearby to protect them.


    ¡°We,¡± the judge said pointedly, ¡°will also take our leave.¡± He gestured to his father, and the family dragged Simon off, his yelps and protests trailing behind them as they disappeared behind a column.


    I turned sharply to Harry and gestured toward my sealed mouth.


    ¡°The amulet didn¡¯t work?¡±


    I shook my head and made a motion urging him to hurry. Harry glanced around.


    ¡°A book will draw too much attention. Bear with me.¡±


    He stepped closer and began tracing faint ethereal symbols with his finger around the amulet hidden beneath my clothes. That¡¯s when James Flower decided to show up in search of his missing sister.


    ¡°Sir Harry,¡± James greeted with a tone of utmost respect before abruptly changing it to one of anger. ¡°Did I not make myself perfectly clear that I don¡¯t want to see the two of you together?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m eighteen, in case you forgot,¡± Spark snapped back.


    ¡°You were kidnapped recently, in case you forgot. All thanks to your cavalier. Or am I wrong, Lord Loxlin?¡±


    I rolled my eyes. Could James be any more poorly timed?


    ¡°Ignoring me isn¡¯t the best option,¡± he hissed.


    ¡°Take a closer look,¡± Harry said, still tracing the third ring of symbols across my chest. ¡°He can¡¯t.¡±


    Though James was blind in both eyes, he could see the world through his third eye ¨C including the magic that had sealed my lips.


    ¡°Hm... an excellent spell! Who cast it?¡±


    ¡°Fairburn¡¯s brute,¡± Spark said.


    This time, James refrained from commentary, apparently deciding to wait until I could speak again. Harry finished drawing the third circle. I didn¡¯t even feel the activation ¨C I doubt anyone in the hall noticed it either. My lips simply unstuck.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a problem!¡± I declared. ¡°Sir James, apologies, but this isn¡¯t about you. We need to head home. Now!¡±


    ¡°De Camp wanted us to stay until the end.¡±


    ¡°Fortunately, he¡¯s occupied.¡±


    As we spoke, the mayor was presenting another certificate from the city council to yet another lucky recipient, showing no signs of slowing down.


    ¡°Harry, did you see that cockroach with the medal pinned to his chest?¡±


    The wizard nodded, so I continued. ¡°A distant relative of the Sparrows. Might even be real.¡±


    ¡°Fairburn¡¯s after the boys? That sewer rat!¡± Harry clenched his fists, and his knuckles cracked like dry twigs. ¡°I¡¯ll wring his scrawny neck!¡±


    ¡°But not now,¡± I said. ¡°The relative might be fake, and this could be the provocation De Camp mentioned.¡±


    ¡°Could be,¡± Harry agreed. ¡°It¡¯s his style.¡±


    ¡°Then you can¡¯t leave,¡± Finella said.


    ¡°I see no reason to stay,¡± I countered.


    ¡°Sir Harry fleeing after speaking with Fairburn?¡± Spark teased.


    ¡°That¡¯s a stretch,¡± I said.


    ¡°But it has a certain logic to it,¡± Harry admitted.


    ¡°Care to share this interesting story with me?¡± James cut in. ¡°I¡¯d like to know what mess you¡¯ve dragged my sister into this time.¡±


    I rolled my eyes again.


    ¡°James, you¡¯re just¡­¡± Spark stomped her foot in frustration.


    ¡°Yes, James,¡± Harry said, his tone sharp. ¡°What does Duncan have to do with this?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s like a magnet for trouble.¡±


    ¡°I recall another trouble magnet,¡± Harry said sternly. ¡°Someone all his friends abandoned when he was on the brink of death!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± James objected. ¡°The Sheridans stood by me... and so did you. Tell me what¡¯s happening ¨C I¡¯ll help.¡±


    ¡°You want to help?¡± I asked. ¡°Then take Knuckles and head to The Anvil. As long as you¡¯re with them, no one will dare touch the boys. We¡¯ll stay here and circle the room. I think Lionel won¡¯t refuse us a bit of advice. Finella heard everything ¨C she¡¯ll fill you in.¡±


    ¡°What do you think, Sir Harry?¡± James asked, clearly valuing Harry¡¯s opinion far more than mine.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do it,¡± Harry agreed.


    ¡°Call Ellie,¡± I told Finella. ¡°Tell her to stay quiet about the boys if anyone asks.¡±


    Left alone with Harry, we each grabbed a glass of champagne ¨C or, rather, the sparkling apple cider masquerading as champagne ¨C and discussed the situation. Most of the guests were gathered near the stage, leaving our corner by the column relatively private. Especially after Harry traced a silence spell onto the marble floor.


    ¡°He¡¯s a fraud,¡± Harry said decisively.


    ¡°What about the Order?¡±


    ¡°What about it? Do you know what I got mine for?¡± Harry flicked his knightly medal with his finger, the gesture casual.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it for a werewolf?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, for the werewolf. But the hunt led me to some seedy places in Pubset. A brothel, where the bastard was picking out his next victim. The creature almost tore apart this one pretty boy ¨C bare-ass naked ¨C right on top of a cheap whore. That time, I lost him. But guess who the naked guy turned out to be?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me¡­ de Camp?¡±


    ¡°Higher. It was our next Symbol of Honor and Unity.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­ The Prince?! What was he doing in a cheap brothel? Couldn¡¯t he find a more¡­ suitable girl in Shiny?¡±


    ¡°He thought no one would recognize him. Strictly speaking, he had a decent disguise ¨C no one but me figured it out. Not even the werewolf, who blindly followed the strong heart.¡±


    ¡°So you got knighted for saving a royal life? You¡¯ve got a prince as your patron, and you¡¯ve kept quiet about it?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve squared everything away. The title and The Anvil ¨C more than enough. Besides, if he sees me again, he¡¯ll realize I broke the silence seal.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ And is that even possible?¡±


    ¡°Why would I lie about it?¡±


    ¡°I see you don¡¯t believe in the Order, but even for you, they didn¡¯t give a knighthood for nothing. They listed an unusual reason on the papers, registered it in the official archives. Probably even made it into the newspapers?¡±


    ¡°They did,¡± Harry confirmed.


    ¡°Then there must¡¯ve been something about him, too. Maybe even with a photograph or a portrait.¡±


    ¡°That was in Freeland, though. Doubt any of it made it here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s worth a shot. I was planning to spend some time in the archive anyway.¡± I needed to refine my idea for purchasing land. Yes, more urgent problems had popped up, but they always would. That¡¯s no reason to abandon the plan ¨C maybe delay it, but not give it up. You have to see things through. Otherwise, you risk becoming nothing more than a spineless twig carried along by the current of life.


    ¡°Then you shouldn¡¯t go to the city archive,¡± Harry said. ¡°You need the library archive.¡±


    Damn, I hadn¡¯t thought of that. Still, a few pounds could help me navigate both. There was no way I could manage this without help.


    ¡°Fairburn said they hired a detective. Maybe we should too?¡±


    ¡°Sunset?¡± Harry asked, puzzled.


    ¡°I was thinking of a private detective, but that might be even better. John could use state resources. For example, he could file a couple of requests with the royal archives or get in touch with Freeland¡¯s police¡­¡±


    ¡°That kind of interest might blow back on him unless he has a solid reason.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll find one if he wants our help with the Archmaker. Speaking of!¡± A thought hit me like lightning. ¡°If we dig up something about the judge¡¯s illegitimate son, it could slow down the guardianship case.¡±


    ¡°Doubtful. His reputation is such that if he gives his word, he¡¯ll keep it.¡±


    ¡°Come on, Harry. You of all people know there¡¯s a difference between reputation and true character. I can¡¯t believe someone who fathered a child on the side has such unshakable principles.¡±


    ¡°Duncan, don¡¯t reduce everything to black and white. Life¡¯s a lot more complicated than that, and all of us have things in our past we regret ¨C or even feel deeply ashamed of.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s true, then there¡¯s always a reason to bend principles. It¡¯s worth a try. Arguing about it now is pointless while we don¡¯t have all the facts. Better draw me that spell you used to unseal my lips. I¡¯ve got a feeling I¡¯ll need it again.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t handle it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to! The amulet didn¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t handle it!¡± Harry repeated. ¡°I¡¯ll remake the amulet.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead, but give me the spell. I¡¯ll add it to my top ten.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t meet the conditions ¨C it needs simplifying. As it is, it¡¯s at least three spells rolled into one.¡±


    ¡°Then give me all three.¡±


    ¡°Fine. But we¡¯re counting them as one.¡±


    ¡°Deal.¡±


    Harry and I were practically left alone. We were present, yes, but had far too few acquaintances in the hall with whom we could exchange pleasantries about the weather or the Empire¡¯s policies in the dominions. A few colorful characters approached Harry now and then with greetings, briefly interrupting our conversation before vanishing again.


    This gave us plenty of time to discuss the brothers¡¯ future. I suggested sending them to Avoc for the time being. They could turn the entire county upside down there if necessary, but Harry firmly rejected the idea.


    ¡°If we do that,¡± he said, ¡°especially right after the reception, it¡¯ll look like we¡¯re deliberately hiding the boys. Better to act as though we have no idea about their lineage. Say they¡¯re not Sparrows, but Joneses, and let Fairburn prove otherwise.¡±


    De Camp, by the way, approved of the plan, adding that he¡¯d send a trusted inspector to the orphanage. Once the inspection was complete, we¡¯d have a better idea of what steps to take next. There were plenty of options to explore ¨C from fiddling with the paperwork to ¡®returning¡¯ children of the right age to the orphanage. If the management, staff, and other orphans all testified that these were the same kids, Wimbush would be in a tight spot.


    De Camp also advised hiring a trustee for such matters and even recommended a legal firm in the City. Harry said he¡¯d think about it. Naturally, he was concerned that after such a recommendation, the trustee would be loyal to De Camp rather than him. Still, it was a solid idea.


    Personally, I could use someone like that for my land purchase. And if I were to ask for someone¡¯s opinion on the matter, it wouldn¡¯t be the mayor¡¯s. I¡¯d ask the few uninvested people I know: the Flowers, the Sheridans, Sunset, or maybe even that mad vicar. I¡¯d need to call Uncle, too. He might know a few trustworthy names, and an experienced schemer¡¯s advice is always worth having.

 Chapter 5

    The news about a supposed long-lost relative didn¡¯t go over well with the brothers. To be honest, they weren¡¯t thrilled. Neither of them had ever heard of an uncle from New Freeland, and they certainly weren¡¯t interested in falling under his guardianship. For Cap, it would mean losing a mentor he could admire and aspire to emulate. The boy had been slaying shifters and vampires by the dozen ¨C in his dreams, of course. Meanwhile, Knuckles would¡¯ve had to part with his beloved four-wheeled beauty, and I doubted their "uncle" would¡¯ve let him keep the Tommy gun either. All in all, their reaction lined up perfectly with our plans. We¡¯d been so busy crafting our strategy that we hadn¡¯t even bothered to ask what they wanted.


    Harry and I got home well past midnight. The wizard immediately sensed turbulence in the ether. Without a word, he dragged me into the hall, where magic was gathering in a visible column, even to the untrained eye. It didn¡¯t come close to the epic spectacle of an unstabilized flow, but the sensation was far more intense. The magic filled my body, sparking at my fingertips, as if ready to materialize any desire. It was intoxicating, almost dizzying, but Harry didn¡¯t let me succumb to the temptation.


    The wizard pulled out a book and started tossing out spells, enhancing the symbols already carved into the walls, floor, and ceiling.


    ¡°Stand there and don¡¯t move,¡± he ordered, pointing to the center of the room, where a complex, multi-tiered circle of symbols spun slowly. Harry himself took a position opposite me inside a simple octagram, activating another circle between us that contained a triangle inscribed within it. Smaller circles filled the room, scattered across the floor.


    Harry traced a rune of materialization in the air, infused it with power, and unleashed it. A wave of magic rolled slowly and inexorably through the hall, making the glowing symbols tremble as it passed. It hit the protective wards on the walls, paused, and then began to recede just as slowly.


    Suddenly, within one of the containment fields, a mad rat appeared; in another, a rooster; and in a third, something large that broke free, shattering the containment. The wave continued toward Harry and me, and in the trap in front of me, Simon¡¯s ghost materialized ¨C opaque, vivid in color. If I hadn¡¯t seen Harry through the gaping hole in his head, I might¡¯ve thought he was alive.


    Simon narrowed his one good eye, sneered, and without any dramatic preamble, reached for my throat. His hands collided with an invisible barrier. Harry didn¡¯t waste any time either. A blue spectral flame lit up in his hand, and he thrust it straight into the hole in Simon¡¯s head.


    The ghost¡¯s head flared, becoming transparent. Simon screamed ¨C a sound filled with pain, terror, and fury. The fire spread rapidly across his body, turning it transparent as well. The ghost writhed, losing form. Like a mad rat, he slammed against one wall, flattened against it, then lunged toward another, spinning into a fiery vortex within the trap. The protective runes flared under the strain, and one finally gave out. The entire trap burst like a soap bubble.


    The ghost lunged at me but dissolved into ethereal smoke before it could touch me.


    ¡°He¡¯s gone,¡± Harry said. ¡°At least you can sleep soundly now. Don¡¯t move ¨C I¡¯m not done yet.¡±


    The wizard made a few more passes with his hands, setting the other ghosts in the traps alight with the same spectral fire. Then he clenched his fist. The ghosts burst one by one, leaving behind familiar smoke. Only this time, the smoke didn¡¯t disperse. It gathered into drops of ectoplasm, which Harry carefully funneled into vials before placing them in a cabinet by the wall. That cabinet, by the way, already held a small fortune in its shelves.


    ¡°Now you can move,¡± he said.


    But sleep wasn¡¯t waiting for us. Instead, we spent hours in discussion with the Sparrow brothers and the Flowers. The latter even stayed the night. It didn¡¯t change the morning routine much ¨C just two extra people at The Anvil¡¯s kitchen table. Finella volunteered to take Cap¡¯s place at the stove.


    While they were setting the table, I made a call ¨C not to Bryce, as I¡¯d initially planned, but to another uncle, Gordon. The head of the family was too categorical. He¡¯d previously suggested dealing with the Fairburn threat physically. Gordon, on the other hand, wasn¡¯t gifted, but his voice carried weight in the council, as he managed the trade that brought the clan most of its income. That also made him an excellent schemer ¨C far better at handling paperwork and behind-the-scenes maneuvers than most.


    And maybe, just maybe, I missed Aunt Mary and my cousin Logan a little, and I¡¯d engineered this just to have a chance to exchange a few words with them. Family is family, after all.


    Uncle Gordon listened carefully, approved the rough plan, and asked for some time to think it over. The only piece of advice he gave was to change the boys¡¯ last names and dates of birth, but not their first names. Even experienced schemers have been caught on that detail before. This way, we could argue that the names themselves misled the detective. He also suggested crafting a new backstory for their origins, but the boys should remain stubbornly silent about it, and we should pretend we never dug too deep.


    All of this ¨C Logan¡¯s teasing remarks about girls, Aunt Mary¡¯s concern over whether I was eating well, dressing properly, and studying enough ¨C took no more than twenty minutes. Still, by the time I returned to the kitchen, everyone was already busy with their utensils.


    On the menu: eggs with bacon, toast, roasted tomatoes, and mushrooms. I piled my plate high and started recounting Gordon¡¯s advice.


    ¡°Well,¡± Harry asked, ¡°how do you feel about changing your last name?¡±


    For some, it might¡¯ve been an unacceptable suggestion, but Squire Sparrow had left the boys little besides bitter memories. They agreed without much hesitation. Knuckles wanted to be Wheeler, while Cap couldn¡¯t decide right away and settled on Taylor. And with that, breakfast came to an end.


    ¡°Well, then, Wheeler,¡± I said, ¡°why don¡¯t you give Cooper a quick tune-up? Ever since the Royal showed up, you¡¯ve been neglecting him. You¡¯ll be driving us to the other side of Rapsy.¡±


    ¡°Offend me, why don¡¯t you?¡± Knuckles retorted, feigning indignation. ¡°The car¡¯s in perfect shape. We can leave right now.¡±


    ¡°Not right now. I haven¡¯t even packed yet.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡± Finella asked. ¡°At this hour?¡±


    ¡°Not leaving. Moving,¡± I said, glancing at James. ¡°To the Wilcox house.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Lord Flower drawled in that peculiar way of his, never turning his head in my direction. How does he do that? If I shut my eyes, my third eye doesn¡¯t see a thing either.


    ¡°Harry!¡± I called out. I needed to try another anti-compulsion spell, but if James found out about that part of the problem, he¡¯d just order me to stay away from his sister and forget the conversation entirely. ¡°Got any ideas about my problem?¡±


    ¡°Which one?¡± the wizard asked dryly.


    ¡°The one unrelated to moving. And yes, Lord Flower, it¡¯s absolutely necessary.¡±


    ¡°Am I just supposed to take your word for it?¡±


    ¡°Trust him, James,¡± Harry interjected. ¡°Duncan genuinely believes the move is necessary.¡±


    ¡°And you?¡± James pressed, catching on to Harry¡¯s hesitation.


    ¡°I...¡± Harry hesitated. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what to make of it. This precaution could be equally effective or unnecessary.¡±


    ¡°And it has nothing to do with the Fairburns?¡± James asked, skeptical.


    ¡°Absolutely not!¡± I rushed to assure him. That was probably a mistake.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll repeat myself: I don¡¯t want you anywhere near my sister. And you!¡± This time, James even turned his head toward the person he was addressing, a rare gesture for him. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about visiting him!¡±


    Finella opened her mouth to protest, but James snapped his fingers. A tiny, almost white bead of energy hovered above his palm, radiating heat. Spark eyed it warily and swallowed her objections. Satisfied, James dispelled the bead, but his stern demeanor didn¡¯t waver.


    ¡°I doubt I¡¯ll have time for guests anyway. I¡¯ll probably just sleep there,¡± I said, then added, ¡°By the way, Lord Flower, do you know a good trustee?¡±


    ¡°I handle the family¡¯s affairs myself,¡± James grumbled. ¡°Thank you for your hospitality. May I call a cab?¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Knuckles will take you,¡± Harry said. ¡°Duncan and I still have matters to discuss.¡±


    Fin made a sour face at her brother¡¯s behavior and waved goodbye as James left, proud and independent as ever.


    ¡°Why does he hate me so much?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Because, like it or not, his sister got kidnapped because of you,¡± Harry said bluntly. ¡°And don¡¯t argue. Sure, the vampires stirred the waters, but you were the cause.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s been like this toward me since the moment we met!¡± I protested.


    Harry shrugged indifferently.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s this idea of yours?¡±


    I explained, and Harry stroked his beard thoughtfully before pulling out his spellbook. He flipped through a few pages, then cast a compulsion spell at me, commanding me to bark. I obeyed, as loyally as the most devoted dog.


    The result was expected, and I wasn¡¯t too upset.


    On the second try, I closed my eyes while Harry repeated the process. My jaw ached, my lips tingled, and the cursed ¡°Woof¡± teetered on the edge of my tongue. Still, I resolved to open my mouth and say something entirely different.


    ¡°Who-ow¡¯s that for you?¡± I croaked. The moment the words left my mouth, the urge to bark vanished.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Harry said, watching me with sharp focus. ¡°I observed at the level of subtle energies. There are visible changes in your Third Eye. I think I have good news for you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve figured out a solution?¡±


    ¡°No. But I can see changes in your Eye. It¡¯s starting to develop its own defenses.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s good news, but I might have to talk to vampires again soon.¡±


    ¡°Give me half an hour.¡±


    In those thirty minutes, Knuckles returned, I packed my things, and Harry created a new amulet. This time, he mounted a large shard of stone into a copper medallion so that it wouldn¡¯t dig into my skin with sharp edges.


    I didn¡¯t pack much: a couple of boxes of ammunition, my satchel with potions, and a suitcase with clothes. Knuckles packed similarly, though he had more ammunition and fewer potions. Harry had decided that I needed a driver more than anything else ¨C and someone who could spot compulsion magic would also come in handy. The wizard, meanwhile, was planning to dive headfirst into solving the ¡°Archmaster¡± problem. That was a task I clearly wasn¡¯t equipped to handle.


    At the Wilcox house, I didn¡¯t plan to linger. I wanted to take a quick look around, dump my things in the closet, and be on my way. But as soon as I finished those tasks, I heard the doorbell ring.


    The precaution of answering with one hand extended, gun in hand, proved unnecessary. On the other side of the door stood Ellie, holding a pie. She was dressed in a light yellow sundress and sandals. I gave her outfit a surprised once-over.


    ¡°What?¡± Ellie blushed slightly.


    ¡°I thought you preferred more practical clothing. You can¡¯t exactly kick someone in that.¡±


    Her blush deepened, spreading all the way to the tip of her freckled nose. Her brows furrowed, and her eyes flashed orange.


    ¡°Care to test that theory?¡±


    ¡°No, of course not!¡± I stammered. ¡°I just meant¡­¡±


    ¡°You just meant you¡¯ve been thinking about my legs?¡±


    ¡°No, I ¨C what?!¡± What did she even want from me? What had I said wrong? How did my cousin Evan handle his temperamental wife? Ah, yes. ¡°She finds it hard to stay mad when I give her compliments, and once she calms down, we can fight all we like.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re nice. Your legs, I mean. And the dress ¨C It suits you perfect.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ oh,¡± Ellie said, momentarily thrown off balance. I hurried to drive the final nail into the coffin of this argument.


    ¡°Just remembered the first time we met. How you shoved me, remember?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that... Sorry,¡± she said, stepping back. She held out the pie. ¡°Here. Housewarming gift.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    With her hands free, Ellie began fidgeting with her braid. Now what? Pie usually means tea. We needed to talk about the Sparrows, but I was starting to feel nervous about inviting her in.


    ¡°Knuckles,¡± I called over my shoulder, ¡°put the kettle on.¡±


    ¡°What about the police station?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Oh, if you¡¯re busy, I can just¡­¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s always time for a cup of tea,¡± I assured her.


    The pie was a masterpiece, worthy of every possible compliment, but the tea felt awkward and uncomfortable. Ellie kept fidgeting with her braid and adjusting her dress, as if she felt out of place in it. Still, we managed to discuss the situation. I made it clear that under no circumstances should she or her family recognize Knuckles and Cap as Sparrows. The conversation didn¡¯t take long, and afterward, I called the station, confirmed that Sunset was in, and asked for someone to let him know I¡¯d be dropping by.


    Detective Inspector Sunset was waiting for me at his desk, clearly not in the best mood.


    ¡°What trouble have you brought me this time?¡± he asked instead of greeting me.


    ¡°Why do you assume it¡¯s trouble, my good man? Maybe I¡¯ve come to help.¡±


    Sunset narrowed his eyes suspiciously.


    ¡°Word is, Harry got into it with Fairburn¡¯s new hired muscle when the latter was introducing some medal-wearing big shot to the Chief Justice.¡±


    ¡°Where did you hear that?¡± I asked indignantly, pointing at the chair across from him.


    ¡°Take a seat. The world is full of rumors, and in my line of work, it¡¯s crucial to keep an ear to the ground. Which means,¡± the detective said, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction, ¡°this time, it¡¯s not me asking you for help, but you coming to me. Go on,¡± he allowed with a gesture.


    I opened my mouth, ready to cut him down a notch. Lately, I¡¯d been getting better at it. But he wasn¡¯t wrong. I really hadn¡¯t come here to help but to ask for help. And why ruin his mood? Let him enjoy it ¨C maybe it¡¯d make him more agreeable.


    ¡°Interested in the details?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right? Of course I am. But let¡¯s move this to Mo¡¯s ¨C haven¡¯t had a single bite all day.¡±


    I¡¯d had a decent breakfast, not to mention the pie I¡¯d just eaten, but I could always manage a cup of tea.


    ¡°We¡¯ll bring Knuckles. This concerns him, too.¡±


    Sunset grimaced.


    ¡°Sit at the same table with yesterday¡¯s hooligan? I do have a reputation to uphold¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s turned over a new leaf.¡±


    ¡°Lad, you¡­ Oh, fine. Lunch is on you.¡±


    Mo¡¯s was crowded, but Sunset still managed to secure a table. Two constables quickly vacated it ¨C for reasons entirely their own, without any prompting. As for Knuckles, I thought Sunset was worrying over nothing. In his neatly pressed clothes, it was hard to recognize yesterday¡¯s scrappy delinquent ¨C at least as long as he kept his mouth shut.


    Sunset ordered like he hadn¡¯t eaten in a week: fish and chips, a rare steak, pickled zucchini, and strawberry blancmange for dessert. Realizing tea alone wouldn¡¯t cut it, I ordered some blood sausages ¨C they were excellent here ¨C and Knuckles settled for a chicken and celery salad.


    While the detective devoured his food with wild enthusiasm, I quietly recounted the story of our latest encounter with the Fairburns. The caf¨¦ was full of prying ears, but Sunset had a simple anti-eavesdropping amulet on hand.


    ¡°So, you want me to run this medal-wearing gentleman through the registries?¡± Sunset asked, starting on his dessert.


    ¡°At the very least. Ideally, I¡¯d like you to get in touch with your colleagues in New Freeland. That¡¯s where I¡¯d start. The response will take time, anyway.¡±


    ¡°First, I need to know where to send the inquiry. If I send a telegram to the Dominion¡¯s main office, it¡¯ll just get lost in the shuffle. And let¡¯s not forget the occasional cable breaks. Those happen a lot in Oceania. I can¡¯t make an official inquiry ¨C don¡¯t have the clout for that ¨C so we¡¯d need to find someone with connections over there or just hope for the best.¡±


    ¡°I understand it¡¯s not a simple matter. But the Archmaker isn¡¯t exactly a simple problem, either.¡±


    ¡°True, but we agreed I¡¯d settle the Valentine and Lindemann issues in exchange for your help with the Archmaker.¡±


    ¡°Fine. What do you want?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Sunset said, catching me off guard. ¡°How could I not help a friend? We¡¯re still friends, aren¡¯t we?¡± he added, repeating the words Harry had used to shut down any further questions about the conflict between us and the vampires.


    ¡°Of course, John,¡± I replied with a strained smile. Oh, this wouldn¡¯t come cheap.


    ¡°Good. Finish your tea, and we¡¯ll head out.¡±


    ¡°Where to?¡±


    ¡°To the Lindemann estate.¡±


    I should¡¯ve expected that.


    ¡°By the way, do you know a good lawyer who could act as a trustee?¡±


    ¡°I know too many, and¡­ I know too much about them. A good lawyer is easy to find, but a decent human being in that profession¡­¡± Sunset shook his head. ¡°There are only a couple, and they¡¯re out of your reach. Their client lists haven¡¯t changed in years ¨C decades, even. Some go back centuries. The Mining family has handled the affairs of the Dukes for generations, and the Counts of Sidney only take trustees from the Coak family. But I¡¯ll think about your request.¡±


    ¡°Shame,¡± I sighed. I¡¯d thought this task would be quicker to resolve.


    About forty minutes later, we turned onto a gravel driveway leading to the Lindemann mansion. I insisted Knuckles come with us. Sunset asked directly why I needed him there, but I couldn¡¯t give a proper answer. The detective muttered something about the secrecy questions but held back on harsher comments.


    A human butler led us into the garden, where, under the canopy of an ancient oak and surrounded by roses, Kate Lindemann was sipping blood from a porcelain cup. Thanks to the dense shade, she¡¯d been able to forgo her wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses.


    ¡°Detective,¡± she greeted, her voice sultry as she turned her gaze to me. ¡°Duncan. Now, here¡¯s someone I wasn¡¯t expecting to see.¡±


    Her lips darkened, and the amulet on my chest grew warm. I closed my eyes and pretended to rub my eyelids in irritation.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t sleep well,¡± I lied. ¡°And I¡¯m not in the mood for games.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Kate studied me intently, her gaze sharp and probing, before shifting her attention to Knuckles.


    ¡°And what is he doing here?¡± she asked, her lips darkening again.

 Chapter 6

    ¡°Answer, boy,¡± Kate said with darkened lips and a sultry, seductive voice. Knuckles shook his head and waved his hand in front of his face as if swatting away invisible gnats.


    ¡°How do they punish attempts at mind manipulation?¡± I asked Sunset.


    ¡°Three to five years in prison,¡± the detective replied grimly. ¡°And a permanent seal as a preventive measure.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, I was just joking,¡± Kate protested.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t,¡± I said, looking at Sunset. ¡°I think she¡¯ll grow more cooperative in a cell.¡±


    ¡°Couple days on rotten blood will make her downright obedient,¡± the detective agreed.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve cut me to the core! Is that how you treat friends?¡± Kate took a sip of blood from her cup, then licked the remnants off her lips.


    I put up with Sunset because he¡¯d been polite when we first met, turned a blind eye to a lot during the encounters that followed, and even though he had his moments, he¡¯d earned a certain level of mutual trust. Not friendship, per se, but trust. A trust I would never extend to the slippery bloodsucker sitting across from me. She, on the other hand, had clearly convinced herself that I¡¯d let her push me around just to keep my inclination toward compulsion under wraps.


    ¡°Madam,¡± I hissed, snatching the cup from her hands and setting it on the table. Then I leaned in close, leaving only a few inches between our faces. ¡°We were never friends. But it would be very easy for us to become enemies.¡±


    Surprise flashed briefly across Kate¡¯s face.


    ¡°Seems your new status has gone to your head,¡± John added. ¡°Big mistake.¡±


    ¡°There is no status,¡± Kate replied, gently pushing me back. There was no point in resisting the strength of her not-so-dainty hand, so I stepped back of my own accord, allowing us both to save face. She stopped playing games after that ¨C something she was frankly terrible at.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you become the new Mother of the Nest?¡± Sunset asked.


    ¡°Have you heard an official announcement? I¡¯m on probation.¡±


    ¡°Then stop playing with us, or I¡¯ll throw you in a cell and keep you there until your Prince picks someone else,¡± Sunset threatened.


    ¡°Oh, with Valerie dead, my chances are barely above zero.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly why we¡¯re here ¨C to talk about her,¡± I said.


    Kate shot me a thoughtful look, probably wondering if I¡¯d decided to help her after all.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go inside,¡± she said, picking up her hat to cross the sunlit expanse of the garden.


    The vampire led us to one of the upstairs offices in the mansion and gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. Since there were only two, Knuckles had to stand.


    ¡°This is her file,¡± Kate said, placing a string-tied folder on the desk. Next to it, she laid another one. ¡°And this is everything I¡¯ve gathered about her final night.¡±


    Without a word, John and I each reached for the nearest file. The detective got the hefty life story, while I ended up with a few pages covering one evening.


    The notes were written in the same elegant handwriting, resembling more of a book¡¯s table of contents than a proper report, with times listed instead of chapters. A young vampire¡¯s day was noticeably different from a human¡¯s. The older ones could somewhat tolerate the sun, but the young had to avoid it at all costs. Daytime sleep was crucial for their health and maintaining a natural skin tone.


    Breakfast at six in the evening, not the morning. Training, lessons¡­ It was more akin to the schedule of a young aristocrat than a bloodsucker, especially considering that from midnight onward, Valerie had free time, which she spent at the Golden Tear. No surprise there. That was her last known location ¨C she didn¡¯t show up for work after that.


    ¡°She had a job?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We all work for the good of the Nest,¡± Kate replied.


    ¡°I can imagine.¡±


    ¡°Valerie¡¯s job was completely legitimate!¡± Kate said indignantly.


    Sunset wasn¡¯t surprised by her profession.


    ¡°Calm down, Duncan. The girl worked at a slaughterhouse,¡± the detective said.


    ¡°As a manager!¡± Kate added quickly before I could jump to conclusions.


    So Valerie was responsible for feeding the family, ensuring that the esteemed bloodsuckers didn¡¯t have to resort to sucking yesterday¡¯s blood off meat scraps. Only the freshest bovine and porcine juice for them! Could her disappearance have disrupted the established order?


    ¡°No,¡± Sunset said, as if reading my thoughts. ¡°This isn¡¯t an attack on the Nest¡¯s business. We¡¯ve already ruled that out. In fact, while the Lindemanns may have lost their patriarch, they¡¯ve actually gained a little ground, business-wise.¡±


    ¡°Not as much as the Gratches,¡± Kate chimed in. ¡°That bitch snatched up the juiciest bits left behind by the Valentines.¡±


    John said nothing, and Kate didn¡¯t press the subject. After all, the Valentines didn¡¯t vanish; they still had some vampires left. The youngest ones, sure, but the treaty remained in place, and soon enough, their Prince might send a new head to the city. Of course, that head would first have to pass an interview with the Duke. Just a tradition, but Farnell wouldn¡¯t be handed over to just anyone. I wondered if the official authorities, in the form of His Worship de Camp, had any influence over the situation.


    Wait a second¡­


    Lost in thought, I flipped a couple of pages and found another structured list ¨C this time of Valerie¡¯s contacts during her final day. One name immediately struck me as suspicious, even though I¡¯d only heard it for the first time yesterday.


    ¡°Simon August Kettle, Baronet.¡± Simon and August¡­ Hell of a name.


    ¡°The judge¡¯s son?¡± Sunset asked, surprised, leaning over to glance at my file. ¡°What¡¯s he doing here?¡±


    ¡°That bastard could belong to anyone, but he¡¯s clearly not his son,¡± Kate said. ¡°A talent like that doesn¡¯t come out of nowhere ¨C It¡¯s obviously inherited, and his mother certainly didn¡¯t have it.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± John said.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t. Care to share?¡± I asked.


    The vampire took it upon herself to explain.


    ¡°Miss Kettle studied in the capital when she was young, but her education got cut short when she found herself in a¡­ delicate condition. The lady returned home, and a month later, she married her father¡¯s young secretary. Six months after that, they had a child.¡±


    ¡°So the Chief Justice started his career as a mere secretary?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± John said, ¡°not a mere secretary. He was the secretary to the previous Chief Justice ¨C Miss Kettle¡¯s father. And that was the extent of his ambitions. He had neither the connections nor the pedigree to rise further.¡±


    ¡°What about his vaunted honesty?¡± I asked.


    Sunset shrugged indifferently. ¡°They never caught him taking bribes, but that doesn¡¯t mean he didn¡¯t. As far as I know, the judge didn¡¯t amass any great wealth ¨C everything of the baronet line, money, property, and title, went straight to Simon. So what¡¯s his connection to Valerie?¡±


    ¡°Flirting,¡± Kate replied. ¡°Why are you making such a fuss? Everyone knows Simon Kettle is a fool, a boozer and a skirt-chaser.¡±


    Sunset and I exchanged a glance. Could the vampire not know that the Archmaker had already killed one of the judge¡¯s sons? I highly doubted this was a tight-knit family.


    ¡°We¡¯ve already ruled out other possibilities,¡± John said tactfully. ¡°This is something new.¡±


    ¡°And here I thought you¡¯d surprise me,¡± Kate sighed in disappointment.


    She might have had her reasons for excluding Simon from the list of suspects, but she didn¡¯t share them. So we borrowed the files and headed straight for the courthouse. Sure, we could have gone to the baronet¡¯s house, but that would¡¯ve been shortsighted. No matter how chaotic things were in their family, our actions might offend the judge, and that was something neither I nor Sunset wanted for different reasons.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Sunset quickly found out that the judge wasn¡¯t busy, though his secretary tried to stall us, inflating both his own and his boss¡¯s importance. John brusquely told him where to shove it, shoved him aside, and barged into the office.


    The secretary raised a fuss, the judge looked scandalized, but Sunset calmly said, ¡°It¡¯s about the latest case.¡±


    ¡°Leave us,¡± the judge immediately ordered the secretary and gave me a suspicious look.


    ¡°Smith is helping with the Archmaker,¡± the detective said. ¡°Duncan knows.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Sit down. Let¡¯s hear what you¡¯ve got.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have much,¡± John said, ignoring the invitation to sit. ¡°The night before the murder, your son was seen flirting with the victim. Can we question him?¡±


    ¡°What? My¡­ Simon? That¡¯s why you¡¯re here?¡± The judge¡¯s voice rose with anger. ¡°He flirts with every skirt he sees. If he drinks enough, he won¡¯t even turn down a dockside whore!¡±


    ¡°Should we have gone straight to him instead?¡± I asked dryly.


    ¡°If you¡¯re here for permission, you¡¯ve got it! Now get out of my sight and stop bothering me with trivialities!¡±


    ¡°As you wish, Your Honor,¡± John replied, his voice dripping with as much venom as the judge¡¯s speech had carried anger. Clearly, these two had a history. Maybe if the conversation had gone differently, I could¡¯ve ¡°put in a good word¡± for the cockroach gentleman and Fairburn, but with tempers this high, it would¡¯ve only caused more trouble. I wisely kept my mouth shut and followed the detective out of the office.


    I expected Kettle to live in an apartment in New High or a house in Sungarden, close to the vampires, but instead, he resided in a cozy two-story house near the park, practically on the outskirts of town. The area, known as Sleepgarden, earned its name for its tranquility, with perfectly trimmed lawns and ancient trees that had been preserved from the old forest. Most yards had a couple of their own oaks or elms, making the houses seem small in comparison. But Kettle stood out here. Why he needed a massive wooden barn in his backyard ¨C twice the size of his house ¨C that practically radiated elemental energy was anyone¡¯s guess.


    Kettle also had an old butler, who greeted us with a stone-cold expression and informed us that the master was sleeping.


    ¡°At three in the afternoon?¡± I said in disbelief.


    His schedule turned out to be almost vampiric. The lazy bastard had returned from his latest escapade at seven in the morning but couldn¡¯t sleep because he wasn¡¯t feeling well. Sunset wasted no time, flashed his badge, and requested that the master be awakened.


    We were led into a cozy sitting room that reminded me of home back in Avoc and served tea.


    Simon appeared ten minutes later. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale, his hair disheveled, and the smell of stale alcohol stung like fresh cut onions. The only thing preserving any semblance of gentlemanly dignity was his blue robe embroidered with gold monograms.


    ¡°Morning...¡± Simon yawned wide enough to swallow the room, hitting us with another wave of alcohol fumes. ¡°Good morning, gentlemen. What brings you here so early?¡±


    ¡°Sir,¡± the butler interjected slyly, ¡°Mr. Moody has advised you several times not to answer questions without his presence.¡±


    ¡°Ah, right¡­ Would you mind if we summoned him here? I¡¯m afraid the journey to the station or your office might be more than my stomach can handle.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll arrange breakfast for three,¡± the butler announced.


    ¡°For two,¡± Kettle corrected.


    ¡°For three!¡± the old man insisted, starting to leave with a proud stride, but I stopped him. With all these ¡°snacks,¡± I¡¯d be lucky to fit into my trousers soon.


    ¡°For one, good sir. The detective inspector and I just had lunch.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, sir,¡± the butler conceded. ¡°For one.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s the master here, anyway?¡± the baronet protested a little too vigorously, turning green in the face before rushing past the butler. Moments later, the sound of his stomach emptying itself reached us from down the hall.


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to think,¡± I said, ¡°that Kate and the judge were right.¡±


    Sunset shook his head. ¡°You don¡¯t need to be a genius to do something vile. You just need the desire.¡±


    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t have the strength to pull off the Arch,¡± I said.


    ¡°But he has enough money to hire someone who does,¡± Sunset replied.


    I had to agree. Money is a universal resource, capable of replacing just about anything ¨C even personal qualities like principles or morality.


    ¡°Who¡¯s this Moody?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s one of the people you¡¯ve been looking for,¡± Sunset said.


    ¡°Then why is he working for this¡­¡± I gestured toward the doorway, from which the sounds of retching continued to echo.


    ¡°Harold¡¯s father was friends with the old baronet long before he became a judge. Rumor has it, the former Chief Justice entrusted him with looking after his daughter before he passed. Lady Kettle later asked Harold to take care of hers.¡±


    We waited over half an hour for the solicitor to arrive. In that time, Simon thoroughly emptied his stomach, took a hangover potion, and began lazily picking at oatmeal with honey while trying to push toast with jam on us whenever the butler wasn¡¯t looking. It was so absurd that I started suspecting the baronet¡¯s buffoonery was a carefully crafted act. That suspicion only grew stronger when Simon¡¯s demeanor shifted completely upon the solicitor¡¯s arrival ¨C a short, unremarkable man in a sharp gray suit carrying a black leather briefcase.


    We all stepped out onto the veranda overlooking the barn, poured ourselves tea, and began the conversation.


    ¡°What are the charges against my client?¡± Mr. Moody asked.


    ¡°Oh, come now, Harold,¡± Sunset replied. ¡°If Sir Simon were being charged, we¡¯d be having this discussion at the station. For now, he¡¯s merely a witness, so I¡¯m hoping for an open and honest conversation.¡±


    Harold gave a small nod.


    ¡°Well, as long as my client is just a witness, I trust the questions won¡¯t be too invasive.¡±


    ¡°They will be,¡± the detective parried, ¡°not because I want them to be, but because of his behavior.¡± Without giving the lawyer a chance to object, John asked directly, ¡°Sir Simon, where did you spend the night of May 31st into June 1st?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± the baronet perked up, ¡°a rather hot¡­¡±


    ¡°Sir Simon!¡± the solicitor raised his voice sharply, then added in a quieter tone, ¡°Use your brain.¡±


    ¡°Well, I mean¡­ people will find out soon enough anyway,¡± Simon shrugged. ¡°I spent the night with a lady.¡±


    ¡°Name?¡± the detective asked.


    ¡°His honor is at stake¡­¡± the solicitor began, but Simon cut him off.


    ¡°Nina Gratch.¡±


    I choked on my tea, and both the detective and the lawyer¡¯s jaws dropped. The latter covered his face with his hand in visible anguish.


    ¡°She¡¯s three hundred years old,¡± I said. And that was far from all. I had plenty more to say about that bloodsucking beast, but decorum held me back. Simon, however, was unbothered.


    ¡°Can you imagine the experience?¡± he winked.


    I knew exactly what kind of ¡°experience¡± he was talking about, but Nina also had another kind of experience ¨C in combat, duels, and stabbing people in the back. Centuries of expertise in intrigue and deception that mortals like him couldn¡¯t even dream of. I closed my eyes in frustration. No, it wasn¡¯t just an expression ¨C he truly was an idiot.


    ¡°Do you have any idea what she could do to you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You have no idea what she¡¯s already done to me! Even the best professionals in Shiny can¡¯t compare!¡±


    ¡°And have you considered her previous favorites?¡± the solicitor interjected. ¡°Shall I remind you how many fights they¡¯ve had?¡±


    ¡°Huxley¡¯s a coward. He wouldn¡¯t fight me.¡±


    ¡°No, but he¡¯d send a couple of goons to break your legs or shove a shiv into your kidney while you¡¯re drunk. Frankly, I¡¯m surprised it hasn¡¯t happened already.¡±


    ¡°I think we¡¯ve strayed from the point,¡± Sunset said. ¡°Did you spend the entire night with her?¡±


    ¡°We parted late in the morning.¡±


    ¡°I believe you were in public at first. What time did you¡­ retreat together?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t really say. I wasn¡¯t exactly paying attention to the time.¡±


    Meaning he was drunk?


    ¡°Was it your first night together?¡±


    ¡°Detective,¡± the solicitor interrupted, ¡°I fail to see the relevance or purpose of these questions. Are you attempting to disgrace my client?¡±


    Disgrace him? He seemed to be doing just fine on his own.


    Sunset¡¯s expression said he was thinking the exact same thing, but this time, Simon stayed silent, forcing the detective to rephrase.


    ¡°Who else did you meet that evening?¡±


    ¡°Oh, lots of people¡­ I can¡¯t remember them all.¡±


    The detective grew tired of this verbal dancing and asked directly.


    ¡°Valerie Lindemann?¡±


    ¡°Oh, her¡­ Let¡¯s just say she didn¡¯t appreciate my efforts. But fortune smiled on me that night. To answer your earlier question, Detective: yes, it was my first night with Nina. And I have Valerie to thank for it ¨C her fiery reaction is what caught Nina¡¯s attention. I hope the girl didn¡¯t take it too hard; I¡¯m genuinely grateful to her.¡±


    The fact that the ¡°girl¡± was twenty years old when she turned and had lived another twenty since, making her twice Simon¡¯s age, didn¡¯t seem to faze him.


    ¡°She¡¯s dead,¡± Sunset said, wiping the grin off the baronet¡¯s face. ¡°I trust Lady Gratch can confirm your alibi?¡±


    Simon opened his mouth, but the solicitor silenced him.


    ¡°My client refuses to answer that question.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Simon asked, bewildered.


    ¡°Because Gratch is the head of a rival clan, and her involvement in this death cannot be ruled out.¡±


    Simon clearly hadn¡¯t expected that answer, but I understood. What could Nina confirm? That they¡¯d spent the night together? Sure. Proving what they¡¯d actually been doing, however, was another matter entirely. Maybe they¡¯d been tangled in bed all night, or maybe they¡¯d performed a sacrificial ritual in the depths of the barn.


    For Simon, finding a motive against the Lindemanns was difficult, but with Nina, it was easier to argue she wasn¡¯t involved. And the worst part of this situation? They really could have just been rolling around in the sheets. Investigating the full scope of this would take an eternity. Nina, being a vampire, would twist and turn the story every which way, and if Kate found out, we could end up with another escalation of conflict.


    Not that I¡¯d mind seeing fewer vampires in this city ¨C I wouldn¡¯t lose any sleep over it. But in the chaos that might follow, the last remaining clues and evidence would likely go up in smoke. No one would find the Archmaker, and some half-baked explanation would be handed down from above, leaving us scratching our heads over what actually happened. In that case, Harry and I would lose any leverage over the judge entirely.


    The only hope was that Smith would dig up something about the Arch. But in the meantime, we needed to move faster on other angles to counter the Fairburns.

 Chapter 7

    The conversation with the baronet yielded nothing but more questions. I was slightly disappointed, but Sunset, on the contrary, was tapping his fingers excitedly.


    ¡°What¡¯s got you so cheerful?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The caliber of the players involved,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Explain.¡±


    ¡°All the victims so far were small-time criminals.¡±


    ¡°Except for the vampire,¡± I pointed out.


    ¡°Except for her,¡± John confirmed. ¡°Her death already stood out from the rest, and now we¡¯ve got the heads of vampire nests tangled in it as well. Once we stir up this swamp, a lot of filth will rise to the surface.¡±


    ¡°Kate¡¯s not a head,¡± I corrected him.


    ¡°She may not be the Mother, but she¡¯s the head for now. Right now, she¡¯s the senior Lindemann in the city.¡±


    ¡°So, what, we¡¯re going to start rattling Nina¡¯s nerves next?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t overestimate yourself, Duncan. Harry might be able to rattle her, but we¡¯d only make her laugh.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s that much stronger than Kate?¡±


    ¡°Kate¡¯s restrained by her circumstances. Since Lucas¡¯s death, she¡¯s been acting cautiously. We spent quite a bit of time together during the investigation, and you have some sort of relationship with her as well. But Nina? She wouldn¡¯t hesitate to crush us. If you¡¯re going to her, you¡¯d better bring an army of constables or some lads from the Special Squad or the Righteous Hand. And if there¡¯s no immediate danger to the city or its citizens, we¡¯ll need to file an official request. And that request has to be worded in a way that doesn¡¯t have the whole city talking tomorrow about how the Gratches and Lindemanns have started a war. Our office isn¡¯t a safehouse ¨C It¡¯s a revolving door. Every clerk in there is being paid off by someone. Damn,¡± John glanced at his watch, ¡°drop me off at the station. If I start drafting it tonight, I¡¯ll have it ready for the morning review.¡±


    ¡°You promised Harry the archive on previous arches,¡± I reminded him. ¡°He¡¯s only got the materials on the last one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll send a sergeant over with the papers,¡± he said.


    After dropping John off at the station in Pubset, we headed back to the Old City, to the grand municipal library. There, I spent several unforgettable hours poring over New Freeland newspapers. Who would have thought the archives would be this extensive: two daily newspapers, eight weekly ones, five monthly magazines, and a decent pile of news bulletins from government offices.


    The sheer volume of work didn¡¯t scare us, but after hours of flipping through months¡¯ worth of publications, Knuckles and I were utterly wiped out. To salvage the situation, I decided to try magic.


    Keeping in mind the limitations Harry had placed on spell forms, I used two circles nested within each other, without an anchor rune in the center. I drew four focus runes on the outer edge of the smaller circle and placed the search runes outside the larger one. I sketched the scheme on a torn page from my notebook, placed it on the nearest stack of newspapers, and filled it with ether from a reservoir stone. Then, in tiny block letters, I wrote the word ¡®Wimbush¡¯ into the empty central circle.


    Focusing on the word, I unleashed the magic. ¡®Wimbush¡¯ lit up with ether and stabbed into the stack like it had been nailed to the table. The spell burned through the page and a few newspapers beneath it, shredding everything within the area the word occupied into fine confetti.


    For a moment, some signaling amulets activated in response to the spell. An enraged librarian stormed over and gave me a severe dressing-down, along with a fine: twenty pounds for damaging unreplaceable archival materials and another ten for unauthorized spell use in the archives. Worse still, he threatened me with a lifetime ban from the library ¨C a fate far worse than losing two month¡¯s wages of a dockworker in one go.


    Desperate to find a way out, I promised that Harry would fix everything. The librarian agreed to reconsider his decision but still took the fines.


    I called Harry, endured a lecture, and got a promise that he¡¯d drop by the library in the morning. The librarian, satisfied with the conversation, was about to throw me out, but I dug in and asked for the list of spells permitted for use in the library. It turned out there were about a hundred of them, each taking up a page or two in a thick booklet: basic reinforcement and protective spells for paper, spells for silence and light, simple air-lens spells for magnification, and more advanced ones for clarifying poorly printed text. There were spells to enhance concentration and memory.


    I copied down the simplest one related to memory. While it only worked on vision and lasted no longer than a minute, it allowed you to remember whatever you saw with perfect clarity, as if creating a mental photograph. A useful thing if you came across something rare or intriguing.


    At the end of the list, however, were the monsters of search magic. Schematics and seals spanning five to seven levels, with dozens of runes of various elemental alignments.


    ¡°Can anyone actually use these?¡± I asked the librarian.


    ¡°Oh, these aren¡¯t personal spells. We have ritual boards for their use. You just need to charge the forms. But you¡¯re right; the last time we used them was for an urgent request from City Hall. And only because they sent the request along with reservoir stones and an expert from the municipal archive. By conservative estimates, that search cost around two hundred.¡±


    ¡°That much?!¡± My jaw dropped. Although, in terms of money, it made sense. Thinking back to my apprentice days, which had only started a few days ago, I¡¯d burned through half as much in ether equivalents on simple rune chains and achieved absolutely nothing useful. I couldn¡¯t imagine how hard it must¡¯ve been for Harry back then, with no money and no resources. I doubt I could¡¯ve managed without support.


    ¡°Can I get a copy of this document?¡± I asked. There was no point trying to redraw these monsters; it would be too easy to make a mistake.


    ¡°Of course,¡± the librarian said, ¡°thirty pence.¡±


    On the way home, Knuckles and I stopped at the grocery store and picked up a bachelor¡¯s survival kit: eggs, bacon, bread. Half of the pie Ellie had brought was still left, but judging by the loud growls of our stomachs, it wouldn¡¯t last much longer. Even so, I ruthlessly suppressed Knuckles¡¯ attempt to storm straight into the kitchen.


    From experience, I knew that a full stomach dulled the senses. My grandfather had set me up with that one too many times in the woods. ¡°We could fry up some sausages first, then pitch the tents,¡± he¡¯d say. Oh, believe me, pitching tents after the sausages was a ¡®special kind of pleasure.¡¯


    So, Knuckles and I quickly ran through the house, setting up Harry¡¯s signaling charms. Nothing like his deadly mine-seals, just enchanted buttons with tiny grain-sized reservoirs between which an invisible ether thread formed. We placed them at every doorframe and window, activated the signaling rings (which, among other things, allowed us to pass by the buttons without triggering an alarm), and then¡­ we consumed a third of our supplies and collapsed, exhausted, into the bedrooms.


    That night, my left ring finger started throbbing painfully. As soon as I realized it was a fading spasm from the signaling ring, I yanked the pistol from under my pillow and rolled off the bed.


    Shoulder holster, satchel. What else? Pants?


    The second spasm told me the intruder or intruders, whoever they were, had crossed the second line. And since I didn¡¯t know where they¡¯d entered, they could be right next to me.


    To hell with the pants! Where were my shoes? I didn¡¯t want to be hopping barefoot through broken glass and blood.


    No socks? Whatever, forget it.


    I froze, considering whether to regroup with Knuckles. No, he had a submachine gun, and his eyesight was far worse than mine. I could barely distinguish objects in this darkness, and his first ten rounds were armor-piercing.


    While I was weighing my options, the doorknob began to move. Instantly, I dropped to one knee, aiming my pistol at the door. The knob continued to turn, slowly and silently, until it hit its limit. For a moment, nothing happened ¨C like someone on the other side was listening.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I didn¡¯t know how much the intruder could hear, but just in case, I forced myself to slow my breathing, which had quickened with adrenaline, making it steady and calm. My heart, however, refused to cooperate, hammering in my chest and driving oxygen to my muscles in preparation for the fight. The rush made me a bit lightheaded, and my chest ached slightly, but whoever was on the other side seemed satisfied. The door began to creak open, and I took a deep breath.


    First, the barrel of a revolver appeared, followed by a soft-soled shoe. A man dressed in black cracked the door open further, glanced around, and froze. His head was wrapped in black cloth, covering his hair and face, leaving only a narrow slit for his eyes. A potion or magic ¨C whatever he was using, he could see as well as I could in the dark. And those eyes were looking straight into mine.


    ¡°Freeze!¡± I commanded, but instead of a firm voice, only a muffled whisper reached my ears. Not the first time I¡¯d encountered a silence spell. I focused on the subtle threads of magic. His hands, neck, chest, and the pistol in his hand all glowed faintly with magic. But behind him¡­ Behind him, the whole rainbow shimmered ¨C and far too much of it¡¯s spectrum was deadly white. Whether he was magically gifted, I couldn¡¯t tell, but the man had come well-prepared.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do anything stupid!¡± I shouted, and this time my voice rang out loud and clear.


    His idea of ¡°stupid¡± clearly differed from mine because my words served as his signal. He jerked his revolver up. I activated stone skin and pulled the trigger. The bullet flew straight for his head but exploded into golden sparks before it could hit. Damn, it was armor-piercing round!


    His shot flattened against the ¡°brick¡± shield barely an inch from my leg. A regular bullet. I¡¯d wasted the stone skin for nothing. Both shots sounded like dull pops, but for the next pull of the trigger, I activated the spell engraved on my pistol.


    The gun thundered like a cannon. The enemy¡¯s silence spell shattered, leaving us both momentarily deafened. Bullets hit shields again, and neither of us waited to test whose reservoirs would run dry first. We charged at each other.


    The intruder was shorter than me but broader in the shoulders, and he moved with startling speed. His revolver barrel was mere inches from my chest, but my pistol was already near his head. Just a couple more inches to ensure a point-blank shot. But my stone skin was on the verge of crumbling, and I couldn¡¯t risk letting him past my shield. I fired.


    The golden flash of the shattering bullet mixed with the fiery muzzle flare. His shield protected him from the heat but not the light, and he instinctively shut his eyes. My ¡°brick¡± shield took his bullet, but the heat still singed my chest.


    While he squinted, I kicked his knee. Unfortunately, it didn¡¯t snap, but it twisted enough to send him tumbling to the floor. Gripping his revolver by the hot barrel with my left hand, I wrenched it aside, pressed my pistol to his head, and almost pulled the trigger.


    But he activated an air amulet. A wave of pressurized air blasted outward, forcing my hand away from his head, slamming into my chest, and throwing me backward. Naturally, I missed, but I didn¡¯t release my grip on the revolver¡¯s barrel, yanking it with me.


    The intruder tightened his grip on the handle, accidentally pulling the trigger. The bullet fired just beyond my shield, grazing my forearm and tearing into the skin ¨C and possibly the muscle beneath. I couldn¡¯t hold onto the revolver, collapsing onto my backside and rolling away from another half-blind shot. Out of the corner of my eye, I noted he¡¯d fired again.


    Six! He¡¯s empty!


    I scrambled to my feet as the intruder snapped open the cylinder, stepping back. The casings clattered to the floor, and I lunged forward as he reached for a fresh round from his belt.


    You won¡¯t make it in time!


    My foot slipped on a spent casing, and I lost my balance. He took another step back into the corridor, shoved a round into the cylinder, and snapped it shut. I regained my footing ¨C one step forward¡­ He cocked the hammer¡­


    The corridor exploded with light and noise. The first ten armor-piercing rounds from Knuckles¡¯ submachine gun burned into golden sparks against the killer¡¯s shield. Startled, he flinched, giving me the opening to dive for his legs. A branching arc of lightning shot from his revolver, narrowly missing me and lashing across my back with searing blue streaks.


    The golden sparks of his shield suddenly vanished. It was down. But Knuckles wasn¡¯t out of bullets. The killer screamed in pain as lead wasps tore into his arm and left side.


    I should¡¯ve stopped, taken aim! But the pain redirected his attention to Knuckles, and he raised a long oval shield just in time to protect his head from being blown apart. That was when I finally crashed into his legs.


    The shield grazed my back and right arm, biting into my skin with a freezing chill before it dissipated. Knuckles stopped shooting, afraid of hitting me.


    My pistol and hands were unexpectedly pinned to the floor under the stranger¡¯s body. While I struggled to free them, he struck me twice on the back of the head with the butt of his revolver.


    The world erupted into colors of pain and began to spin. He might¡¯ve finished me off if not for Knuckles, who, with the precision of a seasoned footballer, delivered a barefoot kick straight to the intruder¡¯s head. A championship strike!


    The impact sent the two of us sprawling in opposite directions. Knuckles, hopping on one leg and cursing the uninvited guest¡¯s mother in the most colorful terms, was now paying the price for his heroic save.


    Shoes! He should¡¯ve put on shoes instead of trousers!


    Where¡¯s my pistol? I lifted my head, the floor beneath me swaying wildly as if the entire world were unsteady. The FN had landed within the intruder¡¯s reach. But he, still reeling from Knuckles¡¯ kick, seemed to be in no better shape than I was. And apparently, he wasn¡¯t thinking clearly either. Instead of grabbing the weapon, he planted his hand on it to try and push himself up.


    The pistol slid across the floor, his hand following awkwardly. Losing his balance, he gripped the gun instinctively, but it didn¡¯t help ¨C he fell flat again. Groaning in pain, he tried to shove the obstacle away before finally realizing what he had in his hand. He shifted his grip and began to raise it.


    ¡°Shoot him!¡± I yelled at Knuckles, as the enemy¡¯s index finger inched toward the trigger.


    Knuckles adjusted Tommie¡¯s aim and squeezed the trigger. The corridor lit up again with fiery flashes. Two or three bullets hit the killer square in the chest and stomach, forcing him to drop the pistol.


    But Knuckles, still balancing on one leg, couldn¡¯t hold steady. His burst of fire sprayed up the wall and into the ceiling as he lost his balance and fell onto his back. At the same moment, the bolt of his gun clicked dry against the empty magazine.


    The FN was still lying close to the intruder. He groaned, but he wasn¡¯t about to die. There was something utterly wild swirling inside him ¨C a chaotic mix of magic. Blood intertwined with death, swamp blended with sand, flickers of lightning and frost flashed within him. If he didn¡¯t survive, he¡¯d at least outlast us.


    I spat at the spinning world around me, forced myself upright with a jerk, staggered into the wall, bounced off it, and launched myself at the enemy. The pistol was right there, but we locked onto each other¡¯s throats like a pair of street dogs.


    To my horror, I realized I was losing in sheer brute strength. The killer let out a triumphant growl and tightened his grip. My vision blurred with dark spots.


    Half-conscious, I released his neck, extended my hand, and activated a square shield from the ring on my finger. The corridor was too narrow to use it as intended, but it wasn¡¯t the first time I¡¯d improvised with it. I materialized the shield edge-on and tilted it sharply, dragging it down.


    The sharp corner of the projection slammed into the back of the killer¡¯s head, tearing away the lower part of his scarf. A frost ward flashed in response but failed to hold, and his grip on my throat weakened.


    I dissolved the shield, grabbed my pistol, and shoved myself away from him, but he recovered quickly, grabbing my leg. I hit the floor again, dropping the pistol once more, and a fiery pain seared through my calf. The bastard had sunk his teeth into me!


    I lashed out with the heel of my free foot, slamming it into his face. The impact nearly tore a chunk of flesh out of my leg. Darkness washed over my vision, and for a brief moment, I was completely blind. Then the darkness lifted, replaced by three bright flashes of muzzle fire. Knuckles had retrieved the FN.


    The killer raised an ice shield again, then bolted to the end of the corridor and smashed through a window with his shoulder. Glass shattered, and the soft thud of his body hitting the lawn echoed in the night.


    I had no strength to pursue him. We were alive ¨C that was enough.


    ¡°Hold it right there!¡± a deep bass voice shouted from outside.


    A moment later, the twin blasts of a shotgun rang out, followed by the glow of muzzle flashes. Then came a disappointed mutter:


    ¡°Damn it, he got away!¡±


    The bass voice called again. ¡°Hey, neighbors, you alive in there?¡±


    Knuckles and I exchanged a glance. Who was this concerned Samaritan?


    ¡°Toss me the pistol,¡± I said.


    Knuckles tossed the FN, and I caught it, immediately swapping out the magazine. Sparrow ¨C or whatever his new name was now, not that it mattered ¨C grabbed the rifle and limped off to reload.


    ¡°Duncan?!¡± Ellie¡¯s voice called out, frantic. ¡°Are you alive?¡±


    ¡°I daresay he¡¯s simply too stubborn to die,¡± James Flower answered, far more calmly.


    ¡°Alive!¡± I shouted back.


    ¡°And Clint?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s alive too.¡±


    ¡°Young man, do you need any help?¡± the bass voice asked.


    Knuckles, leaning against the corridor wall, slid down to the floor, carefully propping up his injured leg.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s Mr. Sheridan¡¯s voice. He¡¯s a good man.¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t say no!¡± I shouted back. ¡°Give us a moment, I¡¯ll open up.¡±


    My calf burned with pain. I had to down a pain-relief potion and pour a healing draught over the wound. I¡¯d need to beg Harry for a proper healing spell ¨C considering my luck, it wouldn¡¯t go to waste.


    Somehow, I hobbled to the door and opened it.


    Ah! A whole delegation was waiting outside: Ellie and Finella, James, Goat¡¯s brother, and a few other men. The eldest, largest, and bearded one held a double-barreled shotgun in one hand, which looked almost toy-like in his massive grip.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± I greeted them. ¡°Ladies.¡±


    Ellie¡¯s brother, whom I already recognized, turned to her with a sly grin.


    ¡°Your precious man¡¯s alive. You were panicking for nothing.¡±


    Ellie¡¯s response was a swift kick to his shin.


    ¡°Ow! What was that for? I¡¯m just telling the truth!¡±

 Chapter 8

    Given the circumstances, I wasn¡¯t able to give my guests a proper welcome ¨C not even offering them tea. Fortunately, the girls knew their way around the place and quickly took over the kitchen, while the men settled into the living room.


    Ellie¡¯s father was named Hal, her older brother Marcus, and her younger brother Garfield, whom I was already somewhat acquainted with. The three of them turned out to be veterinarians and offered to provide first aid. The youngest, who claimed to have the spirit of a horse ¨C a literal war steed, as he put it ¨C seated Knuckles in an armchair and, with a loud crunch, popped the dislocated fingers of his injured leg back into place before moving on to bandage it.


    Hal and Marcus laid me down on the couch ¨C on my stomach, or rather, with my leg propped up ¨C and began a consultation, poking and prodding the bite wound every which way. They did this under the guise of cleaning it, using the last of the gin they¡¯d found in the kitchen.


    ¡°Can you feel this?¡± Hal asked, pressing on my calf.


    I felt it very clearly and was about to describe it in vivid detail when his eldest son answered for me.


    ¡°Yep¡­ odd. Should I grab the tools?¡±


    ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°What tools?¡± I asked, alarmed.


    ¡°Relax, young man. There¡¯s just something left in the wound.¡±


    ¡°Left? I was bitten, not shot! What could possibly be in there?¡±


    ¡°A tooth, for instance,¡± Hal suggested. ¡°I¡¯ve pulled fragments out of horse necks before. Young vampires often lose their heads and go after livestock. They think the bigger the prey, the easier it¡¯ll be to quench their thirst. Horses don¡¯t take kindly to that.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be easier for them to just buy a liter of blood from the butcher?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about Nest vampires,¡± the veterinarian explained, ¡°but wild ones ¨C those no one takes care of. In the first few days, their skin is especially sensitive to sunlight; the rays burn straight through to the meat and bone. At the same time, their bodies use up an enormous amount of energy to transform. No one tells them about the changes their bodies are going through. Pain, fear, humiliation, and hunger ¨C that¡¯s all they know. It¡¯s no wonder their decisions aren¡¯t exactly rational.¡±


    Did he actually feel sorry for the bloodsuckers? There¡¯s nothing to pity. In most cases, those who turn end up attacking their families, not horses. Everyone knows it, and there¡¯s only one solution to that ¨C a bullet to the temple.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t they destroyed immediately?¡± I asked. After all, vampirism required vampire blood, and the Nests kept a close eye on ¨C what was I even saying? It had been less than a week since I¡¯d fought off a horde of bloodsucking rats. If even one of them had escaped¡­ well, it¡¯s possible.


    ¡°They are destroyed, but cases of vampirism still happen. Strictly speaking, blood isn¡¯t the only vector. Any part of the body or fluid will do, if you catch my meaning.¡±


    ¡°Ugh, Sheridan!¡± Flower protested in disgust.


    ¡°It¡¯s natural,¡± Ellie¡¯s father said, waving him off.


    The conversation didn¡¯t go any further because Marcus returned with a metal toolbox. The kettle boiling in the kitchen was used to sterilize the instruments. Hal dug into the wound with a pair of forceps, and my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. I really shouldn¡¯t have skimped on the painkillers. I bit into a pillow to keep from screaming.


    ¡°There it is, the little bastard!¡± Mr. Sheridan rumbled triumphantly. ¡°I was right ¨C it¡¯s a bloodsucker.¡±


    I had some anti-vampirism potion in my satchel. I¡¯d need to remember to take it before bed.


    ¡°This is about the size of the fragments I¡¯ve pulled from horse necks,¡± Hal said. I turned to look.


    ¡°There was also that cow in Greenhouses,¡± Marcus reminded him.


    ¡°And the pig in Smuggler¡¯s Bay,¡± Garfield added.


    ¡°That was a dog¡¯s tooth,¡± their father corrected.


    ¡°Let me see,¡± I said.


    Hal handed me the forceps with the fragment. The tooth was slightly thicker than the one my grandfather had broken off himself, and it clearly belonged to a young vampire.


    ¡°What trouble have you dragged yourself into this time?¡± James grumbled. ¡°When¡¯s the next kidnapping? Who¡¯s it going to be, and who¡¯s after you now?¡±


    ¡°Even if we assume the bloodsuckers are after me,¡± I replied, ¡°surely they¡¯d send someone older and more experienced. Look at this.¡± I handed the forceps back and tossed the fragment to Flower. He caught it without even turning his head in my direction.


    ¡°How would I know? I just don¡¯t want you dragging the girls into trouble again,¡± James said.


    ¡°Strictly speaking, it¡¯s their own fault,¡± Hal came to my defense. He must not have known yet that his daughter had shot a vampire. I even turned to study his face for a hint of his thoughts.


    ¡°I know, young man,¡± he said, as if reading my mind. ¡°Ellie got her share of switches.¡±


    I had no idea what he knew, but I wasn¡¯t about to clarify ¨C especially considering I wasn¡¯t exactly in top form right now, and he had a box full of sharp cutting tools within reach.


    ¡°You whipped her?¡± James asked, incredulous.


    ¡°For the first time,¡± Garfield grinned. ¡°Can you believe it? The favorite child got whipped! Not like Marcus and me.¡±


    ¡°Virgil got it worse,¡± Marcus added.


    Another brother? How many of them are there?


    ¡°That¡¯s enough chatter,¡± Hal barked. ¡°Young man, I¡¯d like to open the wound and clean it properly. There might be smaller fragments left. We¡¯ve got an excellent healing potion at home.¡±


    ¡°No need. Mine are better,¡± I said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so sure,¡± Garfield tried to argue.


    ¡°Bremorian,¡± I reminded him. ¡°From the clan¡¯s chief alchemist himself.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right, you¡¯re¡­¡± Garfield began, but Finella walked in with a teapot, followed by Ellie carrying a pie. Probably a new one, since we¡¯d already finished the last.


    Suddenly, the warhorse shifted from casual to serious, raising a finger as he began to count. ¡°You¡¯re related to the clan head, apprenticed to a wizard, a pretty solid fighter¡­ You know, sis, I approve of your choice. Very good match! Even Dad¡¯ll approve. He¡¯s been worried you¡¯d drag one of your strays into the family. No offense, Clint¡­¡±


    Clint looked as stunned as I felt. That¡¯s the trouble with older brothers: one hates you for no reason, and the other¡­ Well, I wouldn¡¯t say Garfield liked me, but he certainly loved tormenting Ellie. Her face had turned redder than a hot stove. Though, to be fair, I could feel my own face burning too.


    Ellie stormed toward her brother but stopped, uncertain what to do with the pie in her hands. Garfield must¡¯ve been counting on that because he flashed a sly grin.


    ¡°Just make sure you behave yourself. If he finds out what you¡¯re really like, he might not marry you!¡±


    A large piece of pie flew straight at Garfield.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± Hal roared, his voice like an angry bull. ¡°Both of you, home! Now!¡± He pointed a commanding finger at Garfield. ¡°And you, tomorrow you¡¯re going to Lord Marsden¡¯s kennels to treat his dogs¡¯ constipation.¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Marcus clenched his fist in triumph.


    ¡°No, no, no, Dad!¡± Garfield protested.


    ¡°Too late!¡± Hal barked, slashing into my wound with a scalpel to emphasize he wasn¡¯t about to discuss it further. What was just a gesture for him nearly made me howl in pain. Damn, I should¡¯ve taken more painkillers.


    Once the troublemakers were sent home, Hal and Marcus quickly reopened my leg, demanding the potion. I showed them where it was, then buried my face in a pillow as they poured, stitched, and bandaged. I¡¯d be as good as new in a day, but for now, the pain was unbearable.


    Before the impromptu medics finished, the police arrived.


    ¡°Constable Second Class Prudy,¡± introduced a tired young man sporting a spectacular shiner under one eye. ¡°Was there a call for assistance?¡±


    Hal and I answered simultaneously.


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    ¡°No,¡± I said.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Hal replied. ¡°There was an attempt on these young men¡¯s lives.¡±


    The look in his eyes was so resolute that I decided not to argue.


    ¡°Constable, are you from the Fourth Precinct? Call Sunset. He might have some thoughts about this.¡±


    The officer raised an eyebrow skeptically, rolled his eyes, and pulled out a notepad and pencil.


    ¡°Before I bother the detective inspector, I¡¯d like to establish exactly what happened here.¡±


    He probably thought I was trying to pull rank. I tried to sit up but was stopped by Hal.


    ¡°What about him?¡± I asked, pointing at Knuckles.


    ¡°He¡¯s fine as long as no one steps on his toes.¡±


    ¡°Pass me the satchel,¡± I asked Knuckles.


    From the bag, I pulled out my notebook and flipped to the back, where a small list of contacts was scribbled: names, addresses, and phone numbers. Most of them were from Avoc, but a few were local. Opening to the right page, I handed the notebook to Knuckles.


    ¡°Call.¡±


    The constable didn¡¯t look thrilled, but I reassured him, with all the respect I could muster, that I wasn¡¯t trying to pull rank ¨C Sunset simply had some critical information¡­ Poorly explained, and James just had to chime in with commentary that didn¡¯t exactly help my case. Thankfully, Knuckles was allowed to make the call.


    A groggy Sunset demanded to speak to the constable, then ordered him to wait and take no action. The inspector arrived at my house half an hour later. During that time, James kept repeating various versions of, ¡°I told you so,¡± to Hal.


    Sunset, angry as a thousand devils, interviewed the guests and, despite their protests, promptly kicked them out, citing the confidentiality of the investigation. The Sheridans didn¡¯t seem too bothered, but Flower was visibly outraged.


    After that, over a cup of tea and a slice of pie, Sunset questioned Knuckles and me.


    ¡°Who?¡± John asked. ¡°Any ideas?¡±


    ¡°Not a clue,¡± I admitted. ¡°Definitely not vampires.¡±


    ¡°Why not? The move is entirely in line with twice-dead Lucas¡¯s style. Think about it: all of Kate¡¯s fighters are under scrutiny. She picks a promising new recruit, arms and equips him, and sends him after you. If the recruit fails, he can be quietly buried, no questions asked.¡±


    ¡°And why would she do that?¡±


    ¡°Revenge for her father, perhaps?¡±


    I frowned, trying to gauge just how much John knew.


    ¡°You promised not to dig into that,¡± I said.


    ¡°I¡¯m just considering possibilities,¡± the detective deflected.


    ¡°It¡¯s not Kate. I¡¯m certain of it.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. It¡¯s a weak theory ¨C I didn¡¯t believe it much myself, but I had to consider it. What puzzles me is your confidence. Are you dealing with the Lindemanns? Will it interfere with our main investigation?¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t,¡± I replied. ¡°She knows how to kill me.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? I know more than one way to kill you. A bullet to the brain works just fine.¡±


    ¡°She knows an easier, more reliable way. If the killer had come from Kate, he¡¯d have used it.¡±


    Sunset set his cup down, thought for a moment, and tapped a rhythm on his knee with his fingers.


    ¡°And him?¡± John gestured toward Knuckles. ¡°Can he protect you?¡±


    I frowned, not understanding where this was going. Sure, that was Knuckles¡¯ role, but¡­


    ¡°What makes you say that?¡±


    ¡°Kate hinted at it. You brought him to see her, but you didn¡¯t take him to the baronet.¡±


    ¡°And how haven¡¯t you found the Archmaker yet?¡±


    ¡°Keep joking,¡± John said with a glare. ¡°I¡¯m not impressed by you. It¡¯s Harry and his knowledge that hold value.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s busy with the arch formulas. He can¡¯t come with you.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Sunset admitted. ¡°But don¡¯t get cocky. I can carve out half an hour of his time if I need to.¡±


    ¡°You could. But what if the killer was sent by the Archmaker?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m afraid of,¡± Sunset sighed.


    ¡°Why? Doesn¡¯t that mean we¡¯re getting close?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what worries me. I¡¯m afraid the Archmaker has become a vampire. It would explain the latest victim.¡±


    ¡°Fine, take the tooth to Harry. If the bastard didn¡¯t perform the ritual of severing the flesh, it might help.¡±


    ¡°Good point,¡± Sunset agreed. ¡°Prudy!¡±


    The constable with the shiner appeared in the doorway.


    ¡°Grab a partner and get settled in. You¡¯re standing guard here tonight. And God help you if I find out you both fell asleep on duty! Understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡±


    I didn¡¯t object. Somehow, it was reassuring. We refreshed the signaling charms on the doors and windows and handed over my ring to the constables since I planned to knock myself out with a horse dose of painkillers.


    I barely made it to the bed before downing the potion. Sprawling on the mattress, I pulled the blanket over myself, but I couldn¡¯t get my leg comfortable. I tried propping it up with a pillow, then the blanket, even letting it dangle off the bed, but nothing helped until the potion began to take effect.


    Finally, a light fog crept into my mind, and the pain in my leg faded. I closed my eyes, sinking into the blissful world of Morpheus.


    Breathing suddenly became difficult¡­ My throat tightened. I tried to cough it out and opened my eyes.


    ¡°Oh, you f¡­hollow-headed ghost! What the bloody hell!?¡±


    The sight of Simon Feron¡¯s translucent head looming over my bed snapped me out of my haze, but breathing didn¡¯t get any easier. The dead bastard was choking me again.


    I stretched my hand toward the nightstand. I¡¯d left the card with the spell that had worked the first time right there, but my hand met only empty wood.


    Simon chuckled softly, his voice a whisper.


    ¡°Lost something?¡±


    ¡°Bastard!¡± I croaked back, just as quietly. Not because I was trying to stay silent, but because I simply couldn¡¯t get enough air. The ghost didn¡¯t weigh a damn thing, but he still managed to pin me down to the bed like a sack of rocks. If he were alive, at least I could poke him in the eye. Hundreds of ways to throw off a living body, but not a single one for dealing with a ghost. A glaring gap in clan education.


    That left me with only one option: call for help.


    I stretched my arms behind my head and began banging on the wooden headboard of the bed.


    Simon snarled and tightened his grip.


    Damn it. Knuckles was limping, and the cops were all downstairs. Even if they heard me¡­ I should¡¯ve ordered a ring-amulet from Harry. Wait ¨C the ring! The shield had an ether foundation.


    I thrust my fist upward, the motion sending my hand straight through Simon¡¯s transparent head. With a hoarse whisper, I rasped, ¡°Take that!¡± and repeated the same trick I¡¯d used earlier in the night.


    The edge of the shield collided with the void in Simon¡¯s head, sending out a brilliant etheric flash and a crackling sound like static electricity. The ghost¡¯s face contorted in pain, his form rippling violently. The crushing weight on my chest and throat vanished. I sucked in a wheezing, rasping breath and rolled off the bed.


    Simon howled with rage and reached for me with his phantom hands again, but this time, I raised the shield in anticipation. I easily deflected him, following up with a sharp strike to his side with the edge. The point of contact between his etheric body and the shield lit up and crackled, warning me that I was burning through ether reserves faster than I should. But while Simon risked losing his current manifestation, I was gambling with my last line of defense.


    Where the hell was that damn card? Not on the nightstand, not on the floor! I¡¯d at least need to grab the reservoirs from my satchel. Worst case, I¡¯d fend him off with raw ether.


    After another solid strike with the shield, I dove toward my bag and dumped its contents onto the bed. Aha! The ¡°Brick¡± was ether-based too¡­ Empty? And the reservoirs? Damn it ¨C that¡¯s where he¡¯d gotten the energy to materialize!


    ¡°Duncan, Duncan,¡± Simon sneered, laughing. ¡°Forever the loser!¡±


    ¡°Says the guy I shot with his own gun,¡± I shot back.


    The ghost didn¡¯t like that. With a snarl, he lunged at me with renewed fury. I met him again with the edge of my shield, holding it horizontal this time. But Simon didn¡¯t aim to collide ¨C he shot upward toward the ceiling, then dove straight down at me.


    At the last moment, I angled the shield up to intercept. Another flash and crackle of magical discharges erupted as he collided with it. For a moment, we stared at each other through the transparent plane of the shield.


    Simon growled and pressed against it with all his might. I pushed back just as hard, trying to force him toward the wall, but neither of us gained the upper hand.


    There was a heavy bang on the door from the other side, followed by Knuckles¡¯ pained yelp and a string of curses. Was he trying to kick it in? The handle turned, and the door opened.


    Knuckles awkwardly stepped over the threshold, his bandaged leg raised toe-up, all the weight on his heel. He dropped the submachine gun from his shoulder and unleashed a long burst at the transparent figure.


    The bullets didn¡¯t harm Simon in the slightest, but the window behind him shattered into hundreds of shards. The ghost didn¡¯t even flinch.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Simon said with mock approval before lunging at Knuckles. The boy fired another short burst in panic, but the ghost passed through him effortlessly. Simon reappeared behind Knuckles, his head emerging through the boy¡¯s face, his phantom hands resting over Knuckles¡¯ own.


    The submachine gun rattled again, its burst swinging in my direction.


    I threw up my shield, dread creeping in as I recalled how quickly the killer¡¯s shield had failed under rapid fire earlier ¨C and mine was already barely holding together.


    It was Knuckles who saved me. He managed to break Simon¡¯s grip on the forward handle, and the gun dipped down, sending bullets into the floor and splintering the wooden boards.


    I leapt over the bed and ducked behind it for cover.


    The constables burst into the room just in time, swinging their truncheons at Simon¡¯s back.


    The ghost let out an unearthly howl and was violently torn away from Knuckles. The boy scrambled toward the wall, while the constables ¨C surprisingly effective ¨C landed a few more hits on Simon with their batons. Ether flashed at every point of contact.


    ¡°Aim for the head!¡± I shouted.


    The constable with the black eye followed my advice and slammed his baton into the gaping hole in Simon¡¯s spectral head. His partner added another blow, and with a bright flash, the ghost dissolved into smoke.


    Exhausted, I collapsed onto the floor.


    There it was ¨C the card. That damn bastard had hidden it under the bed.


    ¡°Tough one,¡± the constable remarked, surprised.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± his partner agreed. ¡°When one showed up at old Mrs. Parker¡¯s, a single swing was enough to finish it.¡±


    ¡°That was just some see-through shadow. This one had every detail down to the last wrinkle. Hey, Lord, should we call Sunset?¡±


    ¡°No need,¡± I said. ¡°But I¡¯ve had enough excitement for today. We¡¯re moving out. Feel free to let your superiors know.¡±


    About twenty minutes later, we were standing on the porch of ¡°The Anvil.¡± A sleepy Harry opened the door, yawning.


    ¡°I told you moving wasn¡¯t worth it,¡± the wizard said, rubbing his eyes.


    ¡°Thanks for the reminder!¡± I snapped. ¡°I¡¯m going to bed.¡±


    ¡°What happened this time?¡±


    ¡°Knuckles will fill you in,¡± I replied, dragging myself inside.

 Chapter 9

    The morning was anything but good. To start with, it didn¡¯t begin with breakfast and a cup of tea, as mornings should, but with a visit from Kate Lindemann. It was Cap who woke me up, and Harry just went ahead and invited the bloodsucker into the house. To top it off, I¡¯d had a sleepless night, and my calf and shin were swollen to the size of decent-sized logs ¨C a side effect of applying a wound-healing potion directly to the muscle during cleansing. The muscles were regenerating at a frantic pace: old, damaged fibers were dying off, and new ones were growing, producing an enormous amount of waste that needed water to flush out. The water drained from the rest of my body, leaving my mouth feeling like a desert, with a nasty sandy aftertaste. This didn¡¯t just ruin my mood ¨C It wrecked my manners, too.


    Harry had seated the bloodsucker in the kitchen, at the very same spot she occupied after the fight with Flower, while he sat across from her. Limping into the room, I didn¡¯t even bother with greetings ¨C I rasped out a demand for water instead. Only after quenching my thirst did I notice another, equally pressing natural urge. I excused myself to get rid of three times the water I¡¯d just drunk. It did wonders for the size of my leg. On my way back from the toilet, my leg felt lighter with every step, and it wasn¡¯t as tightly wrapped by the fabric of my trousers anymore. The urge came back, of course, but I couldn¡¯t spend my entire morning in the bathroom, so I decided to endure it.


    ¡°Apologies for my manners,¡± I said upon returning. ¡°It¡¯s been a rough night.¡±


    It¡¯s always like this with vampires. And you¡¯re never sure which is worse: when they climb through your window at night with obvious intent, or when they politely knock on your door with a smile. This morning, by all appearances, wasn¡¯t going to be any less troublesome.


    ¡°I heard,¡± Kate said, setting her teacup into its saucer. I wondered if Harry had deliberately seated her there to remind her what she¡¯d looked like after the fight. Today¡¯s lady in red bore little resemblance to the charred scarecrow with a tuft of hair on a bald head she¡¯d been then.


    No, I don¡¯t think so. Harry¡¯s not one for playing psychological games.


    ¡°So, what are you doing here?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I want to offer my help.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m having d¨¦j¨¤ vu,¡± I said, shaking my head. ¡°The last time you offered, Lucas was here, too. "Why didn¡¯t you bring your sister along this time?"


    "I¡¯ve brought two of them, actually," Kate replied. ¡°They¡¯re waiting outside. Want to meet them?¡±


    ¡°No thanks. I¡¯ll pass.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re here to protect you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pass!¡± I snapped decisively.


    ¡°Then tell me what you¡¯ve found so far. I¡¯d rather you not get yourself killed before cracking this case. Or have you gotten yourself into something else besides investigating?¡±


    I felt a strange relief wash over me. Finally, clear and cynical motives I could understand. Hopefully, with no hidden layers.


    ¡°Nothing much, really,¡± I said, brushing her off.


    ¡°No one tries to kill you over ¡®nothing.¡¯ Is Kettle involved in this?¡±


    ¡°After a personal conversation with him, I¡¯m inclined to agree with you: he¡¯s just an idiot.¡±


    ¡°Then why did someone try to kill you?¡±


    The key in this conversation was not to mention Nina. If Kate found out about Kettle¡¯s connection to her, there¡¯d be a mountain of corpses. But she¡¯d find out anyway. After the assassination attempt, she¡¯d definitely focus her attention on the baronet, and Gratch, as everyone knows, never kept her favorites a secret. Damn it, I couldn¡¯t make this kind of decision. I didn¡¯t care about the bloodsuckers, but I could ruin Sunset¡¯s game.


    ¡°Harry,¡± I said, turning to him, ¡°give me a moment of silence. I need to make a call.¡±


    The wizard nodded, pulled out a book, and activated a ¡®silence dome¡¯ from it.


    It took three calls to get through. For some reason, I called John¡¯s home first, then his precinct, but finally caught him at headquarters, wasting more than half an hour in the process. After outlining the situation in a couple of sentences, I also proposed a solution. John was pleased that I hadn¡¯t gone rogue and accepted my plan with almost no objections.


    Returning to the kitchen, I informed Kate that the detective and I had a theory: someone was trying to pit the nests against each other. With the current power balance, the Lindemanns didn¡¯t stand a chance. But no one would let Nina become the sole leader of the city¡¯s bloodsucking community. She¡¯d be eliminated ¨C along with the remnants of her nest ¨C long before that could happen.


    Offering this theory, I only intended to keep Kate from doing something rash. It was a way to buy Sunset the time he needed to convince the higher-ups to let him talk to Nina. But the theory turned out to be a little too convincing. It wouldn¡¯t be funny at all if this turned out to be a de Camp''s operation or something cooked up by the Secret Service.


    Kate seemed startled and, apparently, believed me. She promised not to touch the baronet, but she was unyielding about one thing: I was getting a security detail in the form of her sisters, whether I liked it or not. She was a master herself and had barely survived her fight with Flower. Her girls were just tutors; they wouldn¡¯t stand a chance against someone of his caliber. How could they possibly protect me?


    We couldn¡¯t reach an agreement and were ready to keep arguing when Kate resorted to extreme measures.


    ¡°Fine,¡± the vampire said irritably, her anger barely concealed as her fangs slipped out. ¡°Cards on the table. I want to live!¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m stopping you, am I?¡±


    ¡°You are!¡± she snapped, slamming her small, feminine fist onto the table with decidedly unfeminine force. ¡°Your kind cousin tried to slit my throat right after Lucas died!¡±


    I instinctively reached for my gun, while Harry raised a hand toward the vampire¡¯s neck, making her recoil unnaturally.


    ¡°Sir Harry,¡± she said in a strangled voice, ¡°please. I don¡¯t intend to do anything foolish.¡±


    Harry flexed his fingers, and Kate exhaled, rubbing her throat. After sipping her tea, she continued.


    ¡°When Lucas died, the Seal of Loyalty dissolved, and I begged for mercy. Lord Avoc agreed ¨C on the condition that I take the Seal of Oath.¡±


    The Viscount of Avoc ¨C that was the title of Earl Bremor¡¯s heir. Kate knew exactly who she¡¯d made her promise to. But damn you, Evan, what did you drag me into?


    ¡°Details,¡± I demanded.


    ¡°I swore to protect you within this city¡¯s limits.¡±


    I squinted at her, and Kate flared up.


    ¡°Don¡¯t like it?! I was absolutely thrilled! Especially after he removed the dagger from my throat! Go ahead, call him. I don¡¯t expect you to take my word for it.¡±


    Luckily, Evan was home, sparing me from having to call a dozen other places.


    ¡°Duncan, good to hear from you!¡± my cousin greeted me.


    ¡°Evan, what¡¯s this business with the vampire?¡± I asked bluntly.


    ¡°You¡¯re quick,¡± he replied without hesitation. ¡°Look, the gist of it is, she had to be kept alive one way or another. We couldn¡¯t risk weakening the nest too much.¡±


    ¡°And since when do you care about bloodsuckers?¡±


    ¡°Care? Duncan, don¡¯t be ridiculous. The clan has plenty of experience with these sorts of decisions. If one nest gains an obvious advantage, its vampires could start running wild, and their rivals might resort to drastic measures. It¡¯s either this or clearing out the entire city of bloodsuckers altogether. And that would cause a massive headache for both the Duke and the Mayor.¡±


    ¡°So why drag me into it?¡±


    "Why not? I feel like it was the right decision."


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°I allowed the bloodsucker to explain herself only as a last resort. Duncan, should the family be worried?¡±


    ¡°Uhhh¡­¡±


    ¡°Do I need to come over there and knock some sense into you myself, or should I ask Father to send someone?¡± Evan cut to the chase. And he knew how to knock sense into someone ¨C his grandfather had drilled that into him.


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    ¡°There¡¯s just some minor trouble... Harry and I are helping the police¡­¡±


    ¡°Spill it, Duncan! And don¡¯t leave out the details.¡±


    I ended up telling him everything, even things I wasn¡¯t entirely sure about myself. It was a stupid idea to try and lecture him. Sure, he¡¯s my cousin, but he¡¯s also a seasoned warlock and politician who¡¯s more than twenty years my senior. It¡¯s easy to forget that in our family ¨C until he backs you into a corner, and then it all comes rushing back.


    Now, I could¡¯ve dug my heels in, stayed silent, or tried to assert myself, but that would¡¯ve just delayed the inevitable. The ¡®corrective measures¡¯ would follow soon enough. And if it had only been Evan, that¡¯d be one thing ¨C he¡¯d knock me around and forget about it. But if Aunt Mary got involved... She wouldn¡¯t just wring it out of me; she¡¯d pull my brain out through my... well, you know. And the way she knows how to guilt-trip you ¨C one look, and you feel like the most ungrateful bastard on the planet.


    Yeah, I¡¯d definitely gotten too comfortable without the family¡¯s oversight. Way too comfortable.


    Evan refused to recall the vampire, but honestly, I got off easy. At least he wasn¡¯t about to send a cavalry charge to ¡®assist¡¯ me immediately.


    Back in the kitchen, I said to Kate, ¡°If Sunset finds out about your girls, he¡¯ll kick me off the investigation. And you won¡¯t come out unscathed, either. Let¡¯s make a deal. During the day, you don¡¯t follow me. At night, I¡¯ll stay here. If I¡¯m not here, then you can start looking for me.¡±


    ¡°Acceptable,¡± she agreed, ¡°if you let me know in advance about any risky visits. For instance, to Nina. Are you going to talk to her, or is John handling it himself?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s still up in the air.¡±


    ¡°Nina has a knack for turning heads,¡± Kate warned. ¡°Men far stronger-willed than you have agreed to things they¡¯d never agree to with me.¡±


    ¡°By the way,¡± Harry interrupted, ¡°you owe me a favor. Let¡¯s go. You too,¡± he added, nodding at me and motioning for Cap to join us.


    Harry led us to a large, half-empty room above the main hall. The air here hummed faintly with ether, though its pressure wasn¡¯t as intense as it was downstairs, in the actual Place of Power. The wizard pulled out a spellbook and began scattering seals ¨C on the floor, the walls, even in midair.


    To the seals, he added other figures ¨C lonely runes and crude amulets, some resembling my own pyrite "brick." Harry meticulously examined the constructed system, its depth and purpose completely beyond my understanding, no matter how hard I tried to grasp it. Then he began manually adjusting some of the symbols.


    After forty minutes of painstaking work, he ordered the vampire and me to stand at the centers of two seals, facing each other. I was told to remove all my amulets, which I did immediately, guessing what Harry was after. Kate, on the other hand, had to push past her paranoia, but eventually, we all took our places, staring at each other through the murky pane of etheric glass formed by the seal hanging between us.


    ¡°Now,¡± Harry said to the vampire, armed with a wooden clipboard, a dozen sheets of paper, and a pencil, ¡°make him bark like a dog.¡±


    ¡°Should I resist?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    A bit warily, Kate gave the command. Her lips darkened abruptly, and out of her mouth came not just words but a dark cloud of energy. It passed through the seal¡¯s screen in an instant, leaving shadows of symbols suspended in the ether. I didn¡¯t even have time to flinch before the foreign energy hit me square in the head.


    ¡°Woof! Woof-woof.¡±


    Damn it, does the seal amplify the compulsion? I didn¡¯t even have time to think about resisting.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go easy on him,¡± Harry scolded her. ¡°Overpower his will.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this a bit much?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± the wizard waved me off. ¡°Keep going.¡±


    ¡°Bark!¡± Kate snapped, her voice erupting with a stream of dark fire. Runes, symbols, lines, and marks flared to life in the ether.


    ¡°Woof-woof-woof!¡± I shouted without even attempting to resist. Harry¡¯s pencil scratched furiously across the paper.


    ¡°There we go. One more time!¡±


    By the tenth time, Harry ordered a change of command. First, I mooed, then I bleated, and then I hopped on one foot. The humiliation burned my soul like molten iron. My pride was trampled and shoved into the mud, but I endured. It would be far worse if this happened in public ¨C or during a fight, where others might depend on me. Shame I could survive. My grandfather had made me do worse.


    "That''s enough," Harry finally said. "Nathan, escort our guest out and come back. You ¨C stay where you are."


    When Cap returned, Harry had assembled yet another contraption out of glass, metal, and a few water stones. This miraculous artifact was handed to Cap, and he took the vampire¡¯s place. The torment continued, only now the fog of compulsion took the form of water, which I saw as a soft blue-green glow. I¡¯m sure the color has a proper name, and the girls probably know it, but to me, water is just blue-green.


    Cap activated the device and issued commands, and I obeyed. Harry¡¯s invention had one key feature: the strength of the command could be adjusted. We found the threshold where I could start to resist and set the power just a notch higher. What resulted was a kind of training session.


    By the way, Harry tested the thing on himself, too. Even at maximum power, it didn¡¯t work on him.


    ¡°Training is all well and good,¡± I said, ¡°but what do I do if, tomorrow, some stranger on the street orders me to shoot myself?¡±


    ¡°Hope your amulet works,¡± Harry replied. ¡°The new version will be ready by evening. Listen, my head¡¯s about to explode. I can¡¯t deal with this problem and work on the arch formulas at the same time. And thanks to you, I¡¯ll also need to visit the library to clean up your mess. I told you ¨C don¡¯t try to reinvent the wheel. Learn to use what already works.¡±


    ¡°Any progress with the arch?¡± I asked, quickly changing the subject. Though, honestly, he was being unfair. I¡¯ve cobbled together more than one amulet. Sure, raw spellwork is different from enchanting amulets ¨C anchors are placed differently, and energy centers can be more unstable ¨C but I¡¯ve got experience!


    ¡°Absolutely none,¡± Harry said flatly. ¡°It¡¯s a mix of domestic and combat formulas from different regions. I can¡¯t even guess what¡¯s supposed to go in the missing section to make it all work.¡±


    I remembered the fang Sunset was supposed to bring Harry yesterday, but even that had led to nothing. This wasn¡¯t a Ritual of Severing the Flesh; the vampire had safeguarded himself in some other way. A proper compass using the fang couldn¡¯t be made. Harry tried three times, changing his approach each time, and three times the results were the same: the compass needle spun wildly, the crystal pointers projected hundreds of dots on the map, and the etheric trackers disintegrated into fragments.


    After lunch, Harry secluded himself with his formulas, Cap dove into his studies, and Knuckles and I decided to have a little hand-to-hand combat practice in the backyard. My ankle and the toes on his foot were back to normal ¨C Harry had used a restoration spell. We stripped down to the waist, put on boxing gloves, and started pummeling each other.


    For the most part, I was winning on points, but occasionally, Knuckles managed to surprise me with blatantly dirty and unconventional moves. Painful, effective, and very educational for both of us. At the very least, I asked him to stop hitting me in the groin.


    It was during this session that we were interrupted by a phone call. Cap informed me that Harold Moody was on the line.


    Baronet¡¯s attorney wanted a meeting, offering three options: a restaurant, his office, or ¡°The Anvil.¡± The last option would¡¯ve been ideal if the manor weren¡¯t in such a state of disrepair. The guys kept the place tidy, but the peeling walls didn¡¯t exactly exude the cozy atmosphere of Kettle¡¯s house, so I agreed to meet at his office.


    Moody¡¯s office was located in the City, nestled among hundreds of other firms. It consisted of two modest rooms connected by a shared lobby, making it a prime example of a family-run business. Harold occupied one of the offices with his son-in-law, while his daughter played the role of secretary. After five o¡¯clock, the office was usually empty, except for the head of the family himself. The door to his office was wide open.


    He heard the click of the front door as I entered, poked his head out, and invited me in.


    Instead of offering me a chair across from his desk, Harold motioned toward the sofa in front of a coffee table. He took the armchair beside it, but not before offering tea and biscuits like a proper host. I didn¡¯t refuse.


    We sipped our tea and crunched on biscuits. Harold didn¡¯t rush to get to the point, instead making small talk about the weather.


    ¡°Mr. Moody,¡± I interrupted, putting on a serious face.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s consider the formalities observed,¡± he said, setting down his cup.


    ¡°More than observed,¡± I agreed, though I kept hold of mine. I¡¯d use it as a shield. ¡°Let¡¯s get to the point.¡±


    ¡°Lord Loxlin, your clan specializes in professional hunting. I¡¯d like to place an order on behalf of my client.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll need to call Avoc. Employment matters are handled by the head or members of the small council.¡±


    ¡°I did call. They told me there¡¯s already someone from Bremor in Farnell and suggested I contact you.¡±


    ¡°I think I know where this is going,¡± I said. ¡°You want to hire me to hunt down the Archmaker. And your client is Baronet Kettle.¡±


    ¡°Precisely,¡± the attorney confirmed.


    That much was clear. But what was this bug up to? Trying to drag me into the investigation through the back door? Undermine the police? Create the image of a client who was confident in his innocence?


    In Bremor, they¡¯d politely told him to take a hike. Thanks for that, of course, but a heads-up would¡¯ve been nice.


    ¡°I won¡¯t take this job.¡±


    ¡°One thousand pounds.¡±


    ¡°Make it ten for all I care!¡± I snapped angrily. What a shame ¨C money like that, slipping through my fingers! In any other situation, I¡¯d have grabbed it with both hands, feet, and teeth. But this wasn¡¯t a job; it was a bribe. ¡°I don¡¯t take bribes!¡±


    ¡°Stop, young man, before you say something you¡¯ll regret. Read the contract.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­¡±


    ¡°Just read it. I¡¯m not asking you to sign it.¡±


    I read it. Damn it, calling this piece of paper a contract was generous! It didn¡¯t obligate me to anything at all, yet I¡¯d get paid regardless ¨C at least half of the upfront payment. Technically, I was agreeing to track down the killer, but there were no penalties for failure. And there were no sneaky clauses about protecting the client, withholding information, or anything of the sort.


    ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡± I asked. ¡°This is what I¡¯m already doing, what the police are doing.¡±


    ¡°The police are interested in closing the case, not solving it. I¡¯ve seen it time and again in my practice. Sometimes, a simple desire to uncover the truth is enough to save someone from the noose.¡±


    ¡°And if he¡¯s guilty?¡±


    ¡°Lord Loxlin, I wouldn¡¯t be defending a maniac.¡±


    ¡°Straight answer, Mr. Moody,¡± I said. ¡°Forgive my bluntness, but your faith in the baronet doesn¡¯t interest me. What if Sunset finds indisputable evidence?¡±


    There was something off about this baronet guy. His behavior shifted in strange ways, especially in the presence of his attorney.


    Harold pressed his lips together but replied.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll try to negotiate a reduced sentence. That will conclude my obligations to the Kettle family. But I want to be certain that the evidence is genuine. It must be checked ¨C thrice! That¡¯s what the money is for.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit!¡± I realized. ¡°The money is for the signature. I don¡¯t know how, but in the worst-case scenario, you¡¯ll use it against me. If I find evidence against the person who hired me, it¡¯ll look absurd and suspicious. So absurd, it might actually be brilliant.¡±


    I remembered Lucas Lindemann¡¯s words.


    ¡°You¡¯re perceptive, I¡¯ll give you that,¡± the lawyer admitted.

 Chapter 10

    It was a strange conversation, teetering on the edge of truth and half-truths, politeness and disdain. Yet there was no shortage of frankness.


    "Lord Loxlin," the lawyer asked, "why are you so biased against my client? He¡¯s not a bad person ¨C he¡¯s never wronged anyone maliciously, and when he¡¯s caused harm, it¡¯s mostly to himself."


    "I don¡¯t like the way he acts," I admitted, leaving out the part about how his appearance and even his name irritated me. Another Simon to deal with ¨C just my luck.


    "Yesterday, you behaved with prejudice, but before that, you¡¯d only met him once. Doesn¡¯t that seem strange to you? Put yourself in his shoes for a moment."


    "I wouldn¡¯t have ended up in his¡­ shoes." Flower! Does he think I remind him of some scoundrel too? I¡¯ll have to ask him about that sometime.


    "I see you¡¯ve grasped the point," Harold nodded, as if catching my moment of clarity.


    But was I really as prejudiced as he claimed? What had I seen? A drunk who consorted with vampires, a man whose behavior shifted erratically. And the positives? Well, there was the fact that he didn¡¯t like the Fairburns ¨C but even that he¡¯d expressed in the crudest way possible.


    "Mr. Moody, I haven¡¯t set out to understand your client, but his behavior has been appalling. We¡¯ve met twice. The first time, he was drunk; the second, he was hungover, bragging about sleeping with a vampire. Do you still think I¡¯m being biased?"


    "Simon¡¯s behavior is the result of a difficult childhood and a lack of parental love," Harold said, shaking his head. "You¡¯re young and too categorical."


    "And you¡¯re not entirely honest," I shot back, gesturing toward the contract.


    "I¡¯m a lawyer," Moody said. "I¡¯ve dealt with lies my entire life. But since you¡¯re so fond of honesty... what if I make you an offer? Don¡¯t rush to refuse! No contracts, just your word that you won¡¯t act rashly. And if evidence against my client is found, you¡¯ll verify it thoroughly."


    "Why me, and not Sunset? Don¡¯t you trust his integrity?"


    "The inspector might use it in court if he deems it necessary. Besides, Mister Sunset¡­" Harold grimaced, "has a complicated history with the Chapmans. The Chief Justice let a killer go a few times ¨C someone whose guilt no one doubted. And he was within his rights ¨C constables had botched the evidence. The killer got tired of Sunset¡¯s attention and nearly sent the detective to the grave."


    "And how does this concern me?"


    "We¡¯re all human. Emotions often overshadow reason. Evidence against Simon would damage the judge¡¯s reputation if Sunset¡­ I¡¯m not saying he¡¯d seek revenge, just that he might not examine things carefully enough. And Chapman won¡¯t go easy on Simon. How much do you know about the victims?" The lawyer¡¯s tone lingered, as though he were debating whether to let me in on a secret.


    "You¡¯re hinting at an illegitimate son?" I asked. "What was his name? Everyone keeps dancing around this story without giving me the full picture."


    "Gregor."


    Same as my grandfather. Oddly enough, I hadn¡¯t come across the name since his passing, though it wasn¡¯t exactly rare.


    "Chapman had a relationship with a girl from a poor family. He left her to marry Simon¡¯s mother ¨C or rather, to marry into the opportunities her father, the old Chief Justice, could provide. Love wasn¡¯t part of the equation. The old Baronet Kettle cared far too much about public opinion. Simon, on the other hand, is the complete opposite of his grandfather in that regard."


    "So, Simon and Gregor were the same age?"


    "Just a few months apart. Chapman only learned of Gregor¡¯s existence when the boy turned sixteen. By then, Gregor had gone astray ¨C caught for robbery ¨C and his mother went to the Chapman¡¯s father for help. She wasn¡¯t allowed into court or the judge¡¯s house, so she had no choice. That was the first instance I know of where this Chief Justice openly used his connections. The sudden appearance of a son had a profound effect on him. He even wanted to acknowledge Gregor officially, but Lady Kettle refused. That decision irreparably damaged their relationship. Still, she didn¡¯t object to him supporting the boy. Gregor even moved nearby, under the supervision of His Honor¡¯s father, the professor. The old man took charge of his education and upbringing.


    "Later,¡± Moody continued, ¡°Gregor¡¯s mother passed away, and Simon tried to build a relationship with his half-brother. But it only made things worse. They got into a fight, and since Gregor wasn¡¯t gifted, he ended up far more injured."


    It was Harold¡¯s turn to wet his throat while I tried to poke holes in his story. Was it true? Why would Simon even bother with this relationship if there wasn¡¯t a single drop of shared blood between them? Fine, let¡¯s do as Harold suggested and put myself in Simon¡¯s shoes. What would I have done? I didn¡¯t know.


    My grandfather had been married twice, and Evan and I had different grandmothers, but I¡¯d never noticed that it mattered to anyone. We Kinkaids are family, and that¡¯s all there is to it. Maybe Simon also wanted a family? Maybe he pitied the boy, or maybe he even gloated. But to gloat like that¡­ you¡¯d have to be, sorry to say, a complete bastard. Not even Feron would stoop that low¡­ or would he?


    Focus. Let¡¯s listen to what the lawyer has to say next.


    ¡°Then there was a major falling out between the Chapmans and the Kettles. The judge even left his home and moved in with his father and son. Lady Kettle¡¯s sudden death brought the families to some degree of reconciliation, but after the son¡¯s disappearance, Clive quarreled with his stepson again ¨C and, for some reason, blamed him. If the Chief Justice comes to believe, even slightly, in Simon¡¯s guilt, the gallows will be unavoidable.¡±


    ¡°Does the law even allow a man to judge his own kin?¡± I objected. ¡°Officially, he¡¯s his son.¡±


    ¡°Does it matter who sits in judgment? All the judges are under Clive¡¯s thumb.¡±


    ¡°God, what a family ¨C a nest of vipers.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being overly categorical again,¡± the lawyer said, shaking his head.


    ¡°Am I? It all started with the treachery of the older generation, and now the younger is paying the price. Lady Kettle could have pretended to be a widow and moved to a village or gone abroad. There was a widow like that under Avoc, and she ended up marrying Thomas Bailey a year after arriving. They had three kids. And the judge? He traded a woman for political gain and then expected to have a normal family? Don¡¯t lecture me about youth, inexperience, and being categorical! In my short life, I¡¯ve already made decisions whose consequences I¡¯ll carry to the grave.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes circumstances are stronger than we are.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really? And what circumstances make Simon drink himself sick and jump into bed with bloodsuckers?¡±


    ¡°A lack of a clear moral compass.¡±


    That caught me off guard. I didn¡¯t think the question could even be answered. But then again, what was I expecting? Of course he¡¯d have a response ¨C convincing people is half of his job. What a fool I was, arguing with someone on their own turf and by their own rules. If this continued, Harold might actually convince me that Simon was an innocent lamb.


    ¡°Apologies, Mr. Moody, but I consider this conversation pointless.¡±


    Now it was his turn to be surprised, though Harold quickly mastered his emotions and made a decision.


    ¡°It¡¯s a shame, my lord. Apologies for taking up your time. I hope you won¡¯t refuse this.¡±


    Harold stood, walked to the desk, took a business card from a small holder, and handed it to me.


    ¡°Reach out if you change your mind¡­¡±


    Smart devil. He kept his dignity, preserved the relationship, and boxed me into a corner. Refuse, and I¡¯d insult him. Accept, and I¡¯d show I might reconsider. Damn it, I had to take it. I extended my hand.


    ¡°I won¡¯t act rashly,¡± I said. ¡°You can be sure of that. I want to sleep soundly at night. But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll hesitate or feed you information from Sunset. Furthermore, the detective will definitely hear about your request.¡±


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be better to keep it discreet?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Well then,¡± Harold smiled, ¡°I suppose I have no choice. Reach out if you ever need anything.¡±


    I already did. Can I trust you? If only I could dump the whole mess ¨C the boys, Fairburns, and the land ¨C on him! Damn it, this question needs serious thought and discussion.


    ¡°May I make a call?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡±


    I called the precinct, hoping Sunset had returned from headquarters, but the sergeant said the detective was out on a call. My second call was home, to find out whether Harry had left for the library. Cap said he had ¨C but not to the library. He¡¯d gone to a crime scene at Sunset¡¯s request and even gave me the address, effectively deciding my next move for me.


    The address was in Castle Rock, which, if I wasn¡¯t mistaken, was under another precinct¡¯s jurisdiction. Sunset must have gone there because of the Archmaker.


    Castle Rock, also known as the district of the Duke¡¯s Castle, was the oldest part of Farnell. Long ago, it was Farnell, while the docks, bays, and Greenhouse were separate nearby villages. Accordingly, the roads here were paved with old cobblestones, the streets were narrow, and the buildings were packed tightly together like an anthill ¨C spreading out only closer to the fortress wall, which now served purely decorative purposes. Still, land here cost no less than in Shiny or the City districts, if only because some families had lived here for centuries, and the community was considered prestigious.


    The house where Sunset¡¯s car had half-parked on the sidewalk wasn¡¯t particularly impressive, but a patrol car with crown crests on its doors and a city morgue van were parked alongside it. A typical old three-story building, wedged between equally old neighbors. Knuckles had to park the Cooper farther down the road, while I stepped out directly into the arms of two burly constables from the First Precinct.


    ¡°Hold on a moment, sir ¨C do you live here?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯ve come for my teacher. Duncan Kinkaid, the baron, gentlemen. I think Inspector Sunset will let me in if you ask him.¡±


    The constables frowned. As if it wasn¡¯t bad enough that an outsider detective was stomping on their turf and had brought along a civilian wizard, now some random young upstart with a title had shown up. I could almost see them brainstorming how to politely send me packing when one of their eyebrows shot up to the sky.


    ¡°You¡¯re the Loxlin? The one who chased Master Vampire Valentine across half the city?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Gentlemen, I had no choice. There was a warlock with the vampire who tried to kill me¡­¡±


    The constable who had started the conversation cut me off. ¡°Right outside the Fourth Precinct, wasn¡¯t it?¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s what you claimed during the arrest. And your teacher¡­ he¡¯s Harry Sledgehammer?¡±


    I nodded again. The constables exchanged glances and gave me a new, almost respectful look.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go ask,¡± the talkative one said, while the other stayed behind, scrutinizing me like I was some exotic animal. Strange reaction.


    ¡°Come on in, my lord ¨C the detectives are waiting,¡± the first constable said when he returned.


    The detectives were seated in a tiny living room and rose in unison when I entered. Sunset did so lazily, out of obligation ¨C if his colleague hadn¡¯t been present, he probably would¡¯ve just nodded. The other detective, however, was much more energetic. Green plaid suit, slight stoop, and an unshaven, familiar face.


    ¡°Pleased to meet you, my lord,¡± he said, extending his hand. ¡°Rupert Fogan.¡±


    ¡°You were at the arrest after the chase,¡± I recalled. ¡°Arguing with the other detectives over who got me.¡±


    ¡°Quite the mess you stirred up that time,¡± Fogan chuckled, gesturing to an empty chair. ¡°Please, have a seat.¡±


    ¡°Sit,¡± John said. ¡°Harry kicked us out. He¡¯s performing some complicated ritual ¨C maybe this time he¡¯ll actually figure something out. So, what brings you here?¡±


    I glanced at Rupert.


    ¡°One of us,¡± John reassured me. ¡°He¡¯s got connections in New Freeland. Right, Fogan?¡±


    ¡°And why would you need my connections?¡±


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t you want to hear what new information I¡¯ve dug up on the Archmaker?¡±


    ¡°Technically, you¡¯re supposed to share the results of your investigation with your colleagues,¡± Fogan said with a playful tone.


    ¡°Technically, I could invoke investigative secrecy,¡± Sunset countered.


    ¡°And I could spread the word that Johnny has completely lost his grip and doesn¡¯t respect his colleagues.¡±


    "And I could tell Pumpkin that you¡¯re the one who blew his stakeout on Harrison."


    ¡°Hey, that was an accident!¡±


    Sunset looked as smug as a cat after a bowl of cream. But Fogan wasn¡¯t about to back down either. They started throwing around names of cases, places, and people I didn¡¯t recognize, along with threats involving some lady or another. It went on until they¡¯d completely aired their lists of dirt on each other and finally began negotiating.


    Fogan was the first to take a step toward peace.


    ¡°So, what do you need in Freeland? Bear in mind, I only have one contact there, and I¡¯ve never even seen his face. Just a fellow detective I helped with a request.¡±


    "You know Harry¡¯s having trouble with the Fairburns?"


    "Like he¡¯s had with so many others, I¡¯m surprised, though, that he hasn¡¯t punched one of them in the face yet."


    "The baron had brought two newcomers into the city. One was a warlock of African descent ¨C straightforward enough, an enforcer. The other was more complicated ¨C a non-gifted individual and a Knight of the Order of Merit."


    ¡°Find out who he is and what he¡¯s about?¡±


    Sunset nodded.


    ¡°And track his movements in case he¡¯s not who he claims to be. Getting a photograph would be ideal.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re pushing it with the photograph, but I¡¯ll handle the rest,¡± Fogan agreed. ¡°So, what about the Archmaker?¡±


    Sunset recounted the connection between the latest victim and Baronet Kettle, Nina Gratch, and Kate Lindemann, not forgetting to mention the assassination attempt on me. He laid it all out as if confessing to a priest. I was a bit surprised at such openness from someone who had warned me against unnecessary chatter, but he probably knew best who, what, and how much to share.


    What surprised me even more was the look on Sunset¡¯s face when he mentioned how I¡¯d broken a vampire¡¯s fang. And Fogan¡¯s reaction to that detail was just as curious. He tensed, like a hunting dog catching the scent of prey.


    ¡°Well, well, what a picture this paints.¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re in the mood for revelations,¡± I said, ¡°maybe you could share what I don¡¯t know yet? Your reactions to this conversation are quite¡­ intriguing.¡±


    ¡°Up there,¡± Sunset pointed to the ceiling, ¡°are three bodies and an arch. A perfectly normal one, the kind we¡¯re used to seeing. As for the bodies¡­ The man was stabbed through the heart, the girl¡¯s neck was broken, and the woman was drained of blood.¡±


    ¡°And the wound on her neck? Does it indicate the vampire had a broken fang?¡±


    ¡°The coroner will say more, but from my non-professional assessment ¨C yes. The fang wounds are different. So, this was either a simulation or the Archmaker himself paid you a visit.¡±


    ¡°So he just changed districts and did his dirty work here?¡±


    ¡°Your house, if I¡¯m not mistaken,¡± Fogan added, ¡°is seven blocks from here ¨C practically a straight shot. That¡¯s nothing for a vampire, but he was injured, frightened, spent a lot of energy regenerating, and likely went all out, driving himself mad with thirst.¡±


    ¡°A theory,¡± Sunset nodded. ¡°But why didn¡¯t he leave after quenching it? Why stay and paint the arch as if it were nothing?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Fogan suggested, ¡°he wasn¡¯t coming to kill the lord?¡±


    ¡°Could be,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Explain,¡± Sunset prompted.


    ¡°In terms of etheric energy, he was glowing brighter than a Christmas tree. There was a lot of death there, but he didn¡¯t use any of it in the fight. Maybe they were tools to activate the arch?¡±


    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Fogan said. ¡°A day into the case, and already so much interest.¡±


    ¡°The lord has a knack,¡± Sunset teased, provoking a response. But at that moment, the sound of footsteps on the stairs drew everyone¡¯s attention. A moment later, Harry appeared, carrying a large leather bag.


    ¡°Please, give me some good news,¡± John groaned.


    ¡°I can give you a candy,¡± the wizard replied. ¡°As for the arch, it¡¯s still a complete mess. The only thing I can say is that it was activated twice, and the second activation turned the body to ash.¡±


    ¡°But the body should¡¯ve left a lot of ash, and there¡¯s barely any in the room.¡±


    ¡°The killer took it.¡±


    ¡°For what purpose?¡± Fogan asked. ¡°To mislead us, or can it be used?¡±


    ¡°It can be used,¡± Harry nodded. ¡°But that¡¯s forbidden magic. The gallows await anyone who practices it.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s headed there anyway,¡± Sunset waved dismissively. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    Harry shook his head. Sunset cursed and called in the coroners.


    I could¡¯ve asked to inspect the scene with them, but I decided not to. It wouldn¡¯t really help the case. What could I possibly see that two experienced detectives and an equally seasoned wizard had missed? And going there out of curiosity felt disrespectful. After all, I was partially responsible for those deaths. I felt a slight pang of guilt for surviving and regretted not having the strength to kill the Archmaker. His corpse, though ¨C that I¡¯d like to see, if only to learn who was hiding behind the mask.


    Harry took the Cooper with Knuckles and went to the library to atone for my sins, while I waited for all the technicalities to be sorted. Once Sunset had parted ways with Fogan, I filled the inspector in on my conversation with the lawyer. We talked in his car while John drove me back to the Anvil.


    ¡°He really offered to help you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he meant it seriously.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter ¨C hold him to it. Get him tangled up in your problems; the more he¡¯s occupied with that, the less he¡¯ll stick his nose into our affairs.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not give him any extra leverage.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think Kettle¡¯s really involved in this,¡± Sunset said, shaking his head. ¡°Still, wait until morning ¨C a lot can change overnight. We¡¯re going to the Golden Tear.¡±


    ¡°They gave you some muscle?¡±


    ¡°Two shifters. Great guys. They¡¯ve turned quite a few bloodsuckers into dust."

 Chapter 11

    ¡°Harry,¡± I knocked on the door to his office and walked in without waiting, ¡°I¡¯ve got two urgent matters to discuss with you.¡±


    The wizard gave me a tired look from under his brow, tugged nervously at his beard, and set aside the stack of papers ¨C if you could call it that. The desk was buried under piles of handwritten sheets, but there were even more pinned to the walls and floor. Near the corner of the room, the notes were so densely packed that they formed a complete covering, on which Harry had drawn a full-scale replica of the arch. On the floor, there was another drawing, but this one mirrored the lines above it, leaving the empty spaces to be filled with runes, shapes, and symbols.


    ¡°Don¡¯t step on it,¡± Harry warned.


    ¡°Wow, you¡¯ve really got things in full swing.¡±


    ¡°Full swing? Hardly!¡± Harry waved his hand irritably and ripped a couple of sheets off the wall with telekinesis. The arch remained untouched, as he¡¯d only snagged the notes around it.


    ¡°How¡¯d it go at the library?¡± I decided to distract him and ease into my request.


    ¡°Fine. I restored your newspapers. Don¡¯t do anything stupid again. And if you want to use the search system, the schematic¡­¡± Harry rummaged through and shuffled his papers until he found the one he needed.


    I approached the desk, carefully navigating the clearest path through the paper chaos, and took the schematic drawn on a sturdy yellow sheet.


    ¡°A cross, a four-pointed star, four rings, and a couple dozen runes¡­ And you said I wasn¡¯t ready for complex spells like this?¡±


    ¡°Think you can recreate it without the sheet?¡±


    ¡°I could copy it.¡±


    ¡°Ha! Is that so?¡± Harry even clapped his hands in mock amusement. ¡°Open your eye.¡±


    I focused on the subtle layers of etheric energy and saw that the ink lines ¨C and even the paper itself ¨C had a faint ethereal glow, which turned the schematic from a simple spell diagram into a functional search amulet.


    ¡°Guess I¡¯d better not lose this,¡± I concluded.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t. That thing took me half an hour. Now, what do you want?¡±


    I glanced at the wizard¡¯s displeased expression and decided to sweeten the pill first. I told him I¡¯d found a lawyer, then moved on to asking for protection from the ghost for the night and cautiously inquired about his progress on my susceptibility to compulsion.


    Harry squinted suspiciously.


    ¡°I can fix it right now,¡± he said. ¡°No creep will be able to mess with your head anymore. Unless they¡¯re an absolute master.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± I asked, wary. Good news doesn¡¯t usually come with such a sinister look.


    ¡°Not a problem. Twenty minutes working with silver and stones, ten more for the procedure, and you¡¯re good to go.¡±


    ¡°What procedure?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mention that?¡± A wicked grin crept onto Harry¡¯s face. ¡°We take a little silver, make it into a thin wire, shape it into a lens ¨C big enough to cover your third eye. Protection runes, rejection and filtration symbols, a few more lines and marks ¨C we flatten it thinner than paper, then cut the skin on your forehead to secure it to the bone. You¡¯ve got good healing potions; it won¡¯t even leave a scar.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes in disbelief.


    ¡°You said the natural protection would restore itself.¡±


    ¡°Not in a day! And here you are, expecting miracles!¡±


    ¡°Harry, I¡¯m supposed to meet Gratch today.¡±


    ¡°Then keep your head down, Duncan. John¡¯s not dragging you there to risk your neck.¡±


    ¡°Then what¡¯s the point? With the baronet and the judge, at least it made sense. He¡¯s got issues with the judge, and the baronet is about my age ¨C we crossed paths at the reception... But why drag me to the vampires? Does he want to play on my ¡®special¡¯ relationship with Kate?¡±


    ¡°No, just to use you as a scarecrow,¡± Harry replied.


    ¡°A scarecrow? What for?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s going to scare her with you. You met two fathers, and both of them ended up dead. But keep a clear head about it. Who¡¯s assigned to guard you tonight?¡±


    ¡°Some shifters from a Police Special Squad.¡±


    ¡°Good. Remember this: the fighting and intimidation ¨C that¡¯s their job, not yours. You¡¯re just there to observe, stay quiet, and remember everything.¡±


    ¡°Got it¡­ What about the ghost?¡±


    ¡°The ghost¡­¡± the wizard said. ¡°Let¡¯s kick his arse.¡±


    We descended into the chamber where the ether was gathering. Harry grumbled something about the mansion needing a rebuild, then pulled out his spellbook and got to work. There were far fewer this time, but they reawakened old seals, as if they¡¯d been carved into the ether itself ¨C or maybe they actually had been. Symbols on the walls, floor, and ceiling flared with magic, lighting the room better than any lantern.


    I noticed how the multi-layered ring of symbols, where I¡¯d stood last time, had been renewed.


    ¡°There?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yeah, and don¡¯t move,¡± Harry ordered.


    Harry refreshed his octogram, the triangle inside the ring between us, and the smaller rings scattered throughout the room. He drew a rune of materialization in the air, infused it with power, and activated it.


    A wave of magic surged through the hall, struck the marks on the walls, and then rolled back. Simple traps began filling with specters, but there were far fewer than before ¨C just three rats and a dog.


    I braced myself for Simon¡¯s appearance. The wave reached us, and he materialized in the trap, just as solid and opaque as the first time.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I smiled.


    ¡°Goodbye, loser,¡± Simon sneered, grinning with his one eye.


    Harry lit a blue flame in his hand and thrust it toward the hole where the back of Simon¡¯s head should have been, but Simon tilted his head to the side unexpectedly, and Harry¡¯s hand met empty air.


    Simon spun around sharply, grabbed Harry by the wrist, and jabbed his left index finger into the flame. His finger ignited, Simon growled in pain, and he let go of Harry, who was too stunned to react. Simon¡¯s finger turned blue, became transparent, and began to lose its shape.


    The ghost crouched down and jammed his finger into one of the triangle¡¯s corners that formed the trap. The fire jumped to the lines, the trap¡¯s invisible walls flared with mirrored reflections, and Harry cursed before striking at Simon again with his flaming hand.


    Simon dodged easily once more and burst into a mad laugh. The walls of the trap glowed and crackled like logs in a fire.


    ¡°Not this time, old man!¡± Simon declared, shaking his hand as the rest of it fell to the floor in a lump of burning ectoplasm.


    ¡°Harry?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but ask. ¡°Am I really supposed to stay still?¡±


    ¡°Stay where you are!¡± the wizard barked, flipping through a dozen pages of his spellbook with a wave of his hand.


    ¡°You think you¡¯re clever?!¡± Harry growled, tearing a multi-pointed star from the page. He made a sweeping gesture with his hands, turning it into a three-dimensional figure. Fire, air, steel, magma, ice, and ether runes lit up at its center and on its tips.


    Simon stopped laughing.


    Harry raised the star high, and just as the trap¡¯s defenses began to collapse, he brought it down hard on the ghost.


    Simon¡¯s features blurred as he twisted into a vortex, trying to escape. It didn¡¯t work. Ice froze the smeared figure in place, sharp points crushed and sliced the etheric flesh, and fire devoured what remained.


    The scattered pieces of Simon¡¯s form wriggled and writhed. Somehow, his head survived longer than the rest of his body. Mostly intact, it let out a final scream of rage and pain before disintegrating.


    I was impressed and gave an enthusiastic round of applause.


    ¡°I want to do that.¡±


    ¡°When you grow up,¡± Harry grumbled like an old man, ¡°get older, take on a student with a cartload of problems ¨C then sure, go ahead.¡±


    ¡°Ha-ha. Says the guy whose baggage is any lighter. What was that?¡±


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    ¡°A hybrid of a meteor and an ice star. Made it myself.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking about the spell. Simon almost got away. His cunning is off the charts.¡±


    ¡°Not if you consider that he might be a future higher etherial.¡±


    ¡°What!?¡± I exclaimed. ¡°No! No, no, and absolutely not! The last thing I need is an immortal, all-powerful ghost as an enemy! Ferrish was more than enough, and compared to Simon, he¡¯s practically an angel.¡±


    ¡°Calm down,¡± Harry said. ¡°To become a higher etherial, he¡¯d need to resolve his earthly issues first.¡±


    "You mean he has to kill me?"


    ¡°Most likely.¡±


    I shot Harry a meaningful look.


    ¡°You¡¯re not the center of the universe. Bastards can have grand goals too, and they¡¯re not always about revenge. Though¡­ it¡¯s rarely anything good. Now get out of here. I¡¯ve still got rats to deal with.¡±


    ¡°Last time, you wouldn¡¯t let me leave until you finished with the other ghosts.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve refined the ritual.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± I stepped aside, making sure the specters didn¡¯t vanish or lunge at me, and decided to confirm one last thing. ¡°He¡¯s not coming back, right?¡±


    ¡°Not today.¡±


    Harry began gesturing with his hands, and the ghosts in the traps flared blue. The ritual followed its usual course. Next, he¡¯d clench his fist, the ghosts would burst into smoke, and Harry would condense it into ectoplasm drops to collect in vials. And he¡¯s worried about construction? The cabinet under his wall already had enough vials to stock a small castle, let alone this mansion. Bremor could foot the bill and build it for him.


    ¡°Harry!¡±


    ¡°Now what?!¡±


    ¡°The clan has its own construction company in Avoc. They use earth magic in their work. The architects are top-notch. Peter Lough, for instance, graduated from Charlesbridge with a degree in architecture, interned in the capital, and spent a few years in America building skyscrapers. He could handle the mansion. You could pay with ectoplasm.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± Harry nodded.


    Well, there you go. The day wasn¡¯t wasted. Slowly but surely, I¡¯m repaying the clan¡¯s debt. Now if only I could make some money for myself... Wait! If I buy land in the slums, I could hire the guys for construction, and the finished houses would sell for more.


    Damn it! It all comes down to money again. I might have enough for the land, but I can¡¯t afford the construction. All right, focus. Vampires¡­ Damn vampires.


    At half-past eleven, Sunset was waiting at the gates of the Anvil. Unlike me, he didn¡¯t bother changing into something else, sticking with the same work clothes he¡¯d worn all day. The two guys in the back seat hadn¡¯t dressed up either. Quite the pair ¨C nearly identical faces, but one could easily tuck the other under his arm.


    ¡°Meet the Kilworth brothers,¡± John said, steering onto the road.


    ¡°Roger,¡± said the smaller one, quickly extending his hand over the back of the front seat. His hand was small but strong and tough as stone.


    The bigger brother was slower. Even his name came out more deliberately, despite being only three letters long.


    ¡°Yan,¡± he said, offering his large, soft hand.


    ¡°Not to be rude,¡± I began, ¡°but who are you, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Your security, kid,¡± Roger replied, though he wasn¡¯t much bigger than me.


    ¡°Not what I meant. Spirits?¡±


    ¡°Badger,¡± Roger grinned.


    ¡°Bear,¡± Yan rumbled.


    Not bad. This pair complemented each other perfectly, covering each other¡¯s weaknesses. These two could definitely turn a few bloodsuckers into dust.


    By midnight, we were at the Golden Tear. We boldly skipped the line, drawing a chorus of protests from the partygoers, and approached the bouncers guarding the entrance.


    ¡°Not so fast, boys!¡± one of the bouncers said, blocking our path with a hand on John¡¯s chest. He wore a flawless black suit and was a massive brute, though he still looked a bit outclassed next to Yan. The bear stood half a head taller and had broader shoulders.


    But Yan trailed at the back, while John led the way. It was John¡¯s chest the bouncer¡¯s hand now pressed against.


    ¡°This is an elite establishment,¡± the bouncer sneered. ¡°Not for ragged riffraff. I suggest you change out of those rags into something more presentable and try your luck at the end of the line.¡±


    ¡°I have an invitation,¡± John said calmly, shoving a badge right under the bouncer¡¯s nose. The guard had to lean back and squint to get a look at the tin crown.


    ¡°My apologies, sir. I¡¯ll inform¡­¡±


    ¡°Yan,¡± Sunset interrupted.


    The bear shifter stepped forward, reaching for the bouncer¡¯s tie with his massive hand. As soon as he grabbed it, his hand sprouted coarse fur, his eyes gleamed yellow, and fangs appeared in his mouth. He yanked the guard closer and growled right into his face:


    ¡°We¡¯re going in.¡±


    But the bouncer wasn¡¯t as simple as he looked. His eyes glinted in turn, revealing sharp wolfish features. In an instant, a revolver appeared in his hand, its barrel pressing firmly against Yan¡¯s chin.


    ¡°I¡¯ll inform¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going in!¡± Roger said, grabbing the wolf by the throat with his massive clawed left hand while his right hand trained a pistol on the other guards.


    ¡°Looking to spend the night in jail?¡± Sunset barked at the security team. ¡°I¡¯ll have you out of those suits and into prison uniforms in no time! Stand down!¡±


    The guards backed off. Yan moved the revolver away from his chin and snatched it out of the wolf¡¯s hand, while Roger released his grip on the guard¡¯s throat. His bear brother gave the man a shove, sending him stumbling back onto the pavement. The guard landed gracefully on his feet, straightened his tie, and glared at us with blazing yellow eyes.


    ¡°What kind of badge are you hiding behind, heroes?¡± he snarled.


    ¡°Why complain?¡± Roger replied. ¡°That badge is the only thing keeping us from killing your kind on sight.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± John ordered, stepping through the door first.


    This time, the club wasn¡¯t blaring music. A lone trumpeter on stage played mournful notes, and the dance floor was sparsely occupied. However, there was no shortage of fake smiles and glitzy glamour. The clinking of glasses was louder than anything else ¨C in the brief moment I took to look around, two champagne corks popped, and a single glass shattered.


    Sunset didn¡¯t linger and made his way straight to the center of the room. This vampiric matriarch clearly loved being the center of attention; the electric lights and diamonds ensured she could shine.


    I didn¡¯t recognize Nina at first ¨C having only seen her in photographs ¨C but I easily identified her lover, Kettle, and from him, deduced who the vampire was.


    Gratch was dressed in a long yellow gown with a blue sash, blue gloves adorned with rings on every finger, and a necklace whose value I couldn¡¯t even begin to estimate.


    She looked young. Definitely older than Ellie but probably younger than Finella. However, there was far too much womanliness in her girlish appearance, and no hint that she was a centuries-old killer with more than five hundred years of experience. From the tips of her blue heels to the ends of her jet-black hair, Nina exuded elegance, and she knew how to flaunt it.


    I might have believed that the scoundrel Kettle hadn¡¯t noticed us approaching because he was so captivated by his lady. But the idea that she didn¡¯t notice us as we purposefully crossed the room toward her? Not a chance.


    I was right. We were just a few steps away when two men from a neighboring table silently moved their chairs and joined the couple. This clearly puzzled the baronet.


    A familiar voice suddenly called out:


    ¡°Duncan!¡±


    I flinched and looked up.


    A fiery mane on the balcony immediately caught my attention. Finella waved enthusiastically.


    I¡¯d suspected I might run into the red-headed wild card here, but seeing her seated at the same table as Ellie and Kate Lindemann? That, I wasn¡¯t sure how to process. I rarely curse, but this time I borrowed a few choice words from Knuckles¡¯ vocabulary and quickly pressed a finger to my lips. Too late. The girls had been noticed. I suspect they were noticed much earlier. Kate wore less jewelry, but her bright red dress stood out, and the people in her company were always worth noticing. Now, however, Finella had drawn a direct connection between me and their company.


    ¡°Duncan!¡± Simon called out. ¡°Finella!¡± He waved toward the balcony. Then, something seemed to click in his alcohol-clouded brain, and his demeanor grew more serious. ¡°Detective,¡± he greeted.


    ¡°Detective Sunset,¡± Nina purred, throwing a fleeting glance at the balcony. She¡¯d noticed the girls. ¡°It¡¯s been a while. What am I being accused of this time? I won¡¯t offer you a seat; as you can see, all the chairs are taken.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, my lady!¡± Roger smiled. ¡°We¡¯ll clear some space for you. Though it¡¯s odd ¨C feels like we¡¯ve already tossed this trash out before. Right, Yan?¡±


    The bear nodded solemnly.


    ¡°Johnny, what are these unruly pups you¡¯ve brought along today?¡± Nina asked, taking a sip of champagne.


    ¡°The same ones,¡± Roger said loudly, ¡°who dragged your face across the floor two years ago. Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve forgotten?¡±


    The stem of Nina¡¯s glass cracked in her hand, but miraculously, the pieces didn¡¯t fall. She managed to hold them steady. Her eyes filled with blood, her fangs emerged, and the air around her was so thick with murderous intent that even Kettle flinched in surprise.


    ¡°Are we going to play word games, or are we actually going to talk?¡± John asked.


    ¡°If you want to talk, summon me to the precinct,¡± the vampire replied. ¡°But right now, kindly leave and stop ruining my evening.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s already ruined,¡± John said flatly. ¡°We¡¯ll either talk now, or I¡¯ll take your toy away.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Nina blinked, not understanding.


    ¡°Not what. Who.¡±


    ¡°On what grounds?¡± the vampire dismissed the suggestion.


    ¡°Suspicion of the murder of Valerie Lindemann.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re delusional!¡±


    ¡°Sir Kettle,¡± John said, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll be spending the night in a cell.¡±


    Nina shot to her feet, and the vampires at her table stood with her in perfect unison ¨C along with two other pairs from nearby tables. Whatever Harry said about staying calm, I wasn¡¯t taking any chances. I pulled my pistol, and it made me feel a lot better. Especially since the magazine was fully loaded with fire apples.


    The shifters armed themselves as well. Roger wielded a revolver in each hand, while Yan pulled out a cleaver and a sawed-off shotgun. Only John remained unfazed.


    From the balcony, Ellie jumped down, and Finella ignited flames in her hands.


    God, where are you two doing!?


    ¡°If you don¡¯t leash your dogs,¡± Sunset said, ¡°then we¡¯ll talk tonight ¨C on entirely different terms.¡±


    Nina regained her composure, donning the mask of a carefree beauty, and waved her hand. The vampires sat down in perfect synchronicity.


    ¡°I¡¯ll remember this evening, Johnny.¡± She looked each of us in the eye, then glanced at the girls on the balcony and at Kate before turning back to Kettle. The vampire pulled him close and kissed him passionately. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll get you out of this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so moved I might cry,¡± John muttered. ¡°Let¡¯s not waste time.¡±


    Simon hesitantly stepped around the table and held out his hands. Sunset clasped the cuffs on his wrists and gave him a pat on the back.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    We turned to leave, letting the shifters keep the situation under control. They didn¡¯t lower their weapons.


    ¡°Frank,¡± Nina called out, her voice sharp. ¡°Find out who those little bitches are with the red.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t hold back this time. Her words were clearly aimed at us ¨C a veiled threat if I¡¯d ever heard one.


    I turned back.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother too much. The last bloodsuckers who got curious about them didn¡¯t end well.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Nina said, feigning calm. ¡°Frank knows how to be careful.¡±


    ¡°Valentine and Lindemann thought so too,¡± I replied, wiping the smirk off her face. ¡°Good evening.¡±

 Chapter 12

    We slowly made our way toward the exit. Kettle, the idle baronet, seemed to be in a daze. Handcuffs weren¡¯t new to him, but this was the first time they¡¯d been slapped on for a murder charge. Not that I cared about his feelings ¨C my own worries were plenty.


    ¡°John, I need to stay and help the girls,¡± I said, trying not to turn around but barely watching where I was going, my gaze flickering toward the balcony.


    ¡°They don¡¯t need your help ¨C they need a whipping!¡± Sunset hissed quietly but with fervor. ¡°Kate will take care of them, assuming she¡¯s got a shred of sense left.¡±


    ¡°And if she decides to double down and paint them as accomplices instead?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s already done that. Staying here longer will only put the girls in more danger.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly why I must¡­¡± My words were cut off by the sight of a hulking figure in an expensive suit ahead of us.


    ¡°Ah, bloody hell¡­¡± Sunset muttered just as August Fairburn greeted us with excessive cheer.


    ¡°Gentlemen, what a group! Simon, you¡¯re moving up in the world. Usually, it takes less effort to drag you into a cell!¡±


    But it wasn¡¯t the loudmouth who caught my attention. He was like a purebred dog that barked a lot but rarely bit. The real danger was the mass of muscle and magic looming behind him. Bolaji, the fucking Lengai.


    ¡°August,¡± the baronet replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, ¡°feeling particularly bold today, aren¡¯t we? What brought it on? The handcuffs or the ape standing behind you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it speaks!¡± Fairburn feigned amazement. ¡°Not all the brains pickled away, I see. Careful not to puke all over the cell, will you? Good day, gentlemen. Bolaji,¡± he called, taking a few steps to the side, though the black man stayed put, narrowing his eyes dangerously.


    ¡°Ape?¡± Bolaji repeated.


    "Yes," Simon spat out, his voice trembling with nervous defiance. "Big, dumb, and black-assed ¨C just like you!"


    Oh, I could argue over who the real dumb was here, but the time for talking ended the moment the fool finished his insult. Bolaji struck with his right arm, launching it forward like a battering ram. Sunset and I dove in opposite directions simultaneously. I rolled out of the attack line, pulling out my pistol in one motion, but the warlock wasn¡¯t aiming for me. His target was Simon, and that blow would¡¯ve knocked the baronet out cold ¨C if not for Roger¡¯s inhuman reflexes.


    The shifter lunged forward, intercepting the warlock¡¯s massive fist, though he couldn¡¯t fully stop its momentum. The blow connected anyway, smashing into Simon¡¯s face and twisting his nose to one side. Kettle stumbled backward into Yan¡¯s chest and only managed to stay upright because of it. Everyone involved cursed in their own colorful ways.


    ¡°You black-assed bastard!¡± Kettle roared, wiping the blood streaming from his smashed lips with his sleeve. Using Yan¡¯s chest for leverage, he pushed himself off and thrust his cuffed hands forward. In an instant, a burst of crackling lightning erupted from his palms. Roger tried to intervene again, reaching out, but half the bolts eagerly latched onto him while the other half slammed into Bolaji¡¯s chest.


    Roger¡¯s body convulsed as the shocks rippled through him, causing the pistol in his other hand to discharge. The enchanted bullet tore through the air like a fiery comet, embedding itself in the floor and scattering a shower of burning splinters across the nearby brawlers.


    Bolaji took the blast full-on. His white shirt charred black instantly, his jacket caught fire, and the warlock let out a feral roar. He conjured a long spear from thin air, its blade broad and leaf-shaped, and aimed to drive it straight into Simon¡¯s chest.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Sunset, Fairburn, and I shouted in unison, but only the shifters acted. Yan yanked the baronet backward by his collar, dragging him out of harm¡¯s way, while his smaller brother latched onto the spear just below the blade, forcing it to veer off course.


    The tables around us emptied in an instant.


    Now relatively out of danger, Simon resumed his antics ¨C in other words, firing off more lightning. The distance between him and Bolaji was only a couple of meters now, but the spread of the bolts had widened. They forked and scattered in a broad arc, and with Bolaji being as massive as he was, none of the energy went to waste. The fiery tendrils shredded his expensive suit, turning it into smoldering rags.


    Bolaji roared again, wrenching his spear free and shoving Roger in front of him like a shield. Simon ceased his assault, trying to step aside for a clear shot, but Yan held him firmly by the collar. That was until he took two quick blows to the backs of his knees, delivered by Gratch¡¯s vampires. Twisting Yan¡¯s arms behind his back, the bloodsuckers shoved his face hard against the floor. But holding him was another matter entirely. Yan roared like a bear, his body partially shifting as he assumed its form. With an explosive twist of his wrists, he broke free from the vampires¡¯ grip and drove their hands to the floor¡­ or rather, through the floor. The enraged grizzly rose to his feet, two bloodsuckers dangling helplessly in his grasp. With a powerful swing, he hurled one of them into the floorboards, the crash reverberating along with the sound of snapping ribs. The second vampire was flung into another attacker, sending them both sprawling.


    Sunset was shouting profanities, ordering everyone to drop to the ground. I stood there, frozen, my gun wavering between one threat and another. It was easy for Harry to say, don¡¯t get involved, but a vampire knocked down by Yan landed right beside me. I had no idea if he meant to attack me, but I didn¡¯t wait to find out ¨C I pulled the trigger. The fire apple tore clean through his right collarbone. I fired again, this time into the left, to keep his hands from flailing.


    One of the vampires made it to Simon, slashing through the chain of his handcuffs with a short blade. But before the bloodsucker could retreat, Yan¡¯s kick sent him flying.


    Bolaji raised his spear into the air and spun it like a propeller, trying to shake off Roger, who clung stubbornly to it. Out of nowhere, Nina appeared directly in front of the black warlock. The tiny figure in yellow struck him with a burst of blood and death magic, but Bolaji was quick to counter. He caught the spear with his right hand and summoned a long, oval shield with his left ¨C woven from what looked like leather and vines. It held against the magic effortlessly.


    Then Bolaji swung his spear downward ¨C Roger still clinging to it ¨C and aimed the badger shifter straight at the vampire woman. Roger tucked his body mid-air and crashed into Nina feet first, sending her flying through a path of overturned tables and chairs.


    Bolaji let out a frustrated roar, but it was drowned out by the enraged bellow of the grizzly bear now buried under a heap of vampires ¨C and, apparently, security guards. At least one of them, a wolf-shifter, had his jaws clamped onto Yan¡¯s wrist.


    Roger was distracted by his brother¡¯s plight. Bolaji yanked the spear back, its tip now pointed at the badger¡¯s chest, and thrust upward, aiming for the smaller shifter¡¯s head. But Roger refused to play along. Instead of letting go, Roger braced his left hand against the shaft of the spear for leverage, then jammed the barrel of his pistol onto the tip of the blade. The maneuver gave him just enough stability for a brief moment as Bolaji¡¯s strength lifted him into the air again. Suspended at the spear¡¯s full extension, Roger twisted his body, pulled the pistol off the blade¡¯s tip, and fired a shot aimed squarely at Bolaji¡¯s head. The black warlock raised his shield, deflecting the fiery bullet into the ceiling.


    ¡°Ho!¡± Bolaji exclaimed, clearly pleased with the outcome. Even this seemed to amuse him.


    Roger hung suspended in mid-air, the spear¡¯s tip a hair¡¯s breadth from his chest. Then a blast of compressed air shot from the spear, throwing the badger backward. He flew across the room, crashing into a massive crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.


    The hall was plunged into near-darkness as the chandelier shattered, its crystal fragments scattering like glittering shards across the floor. But the dimness was short-lived. A stream of fire erupted from Bolaji¡¯s spear, its searing light illuminating the room as it engulfed Roger, who remained entangled in the twisted metal frame of the chandelier. The flames danced wildly, casting chaotic shadows across the walls, while the sound of crackling fire and falling glass filled the air.


    As soon as Bolaji rid himself of Roger, Simon launched another attack, but this time, his lightning bolts were drawn into the warlock¡¯s shield, leaving no scorch marks or damage whatsoever.


    Meanwhile, the vampires and a pair of shifters had wrestled Yan to the ground. Sunset pulled out his revolver and shot one of the attackers cleanly off the pile. Without thinking, I fired at another, my bullet finding its mark.


    Behind the wolf savaging the bear¡¯s arm, a petite figure emerged ¨C Ellie, her face partially transformed in shift. Without a moment¡¯s hesitation, she delivered a sharp, calculated kick, driving her heel into the wolf¡¯s head. I could only hope she hadn¡¯t killed him. The wolf¡¯s body went limp, and Yan flung it off his arm with a violent motion, nearly striking Ellie in the process as he mistook her for yet another attacker.


    Bolaji lunged toward Simon, advancing behind his shield and raising the spear for another strike. Before he could bring it down, Nina reappeared, this time behind the warlock. Her shredded yellow dress hung in tatters as she drove her claws into his back, right where his kidneys should have been.


    Bolaji let out a howl of pain, his defenses momentarily dropping. Simon seized the opportunity, rushing forward with bolts of lightning aimed directly at the warlock¡¯s face. His fingers nearly grazed Bolaji¡¯s head, but then Kate tore Nina from the warlock¡¯s back.


    The two women ¨C one in red, the other in yellow ¨C became a whirlwind of clawing, biting, and tearing. Jewelry flew, hair was ripped out, clothing shredded, and teeth sank into exposed flesh. They were consumed entirely by their battle, leaving their children to leap into the fray, eager to defend their mothers.


    With no one holding him down now, Yan was finally free. But with no other targets for his rage, he turned on Ellie instead. Thankfully, the Goat was much faster than he was, dodging his every swing with ease ¨C for now.


    High above, Roger, tangled in the chandelier, was no longer burning, though he looked worse for wear. Spotting his brother attacking Ellie, he raised his pistol. How he hadn¡¯t dropped it yet, I couldn¡¯t tell.


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    ¡°STOP, YOU IDIOTS!¡± I screamed. But what did I expect? No one was listening, not even Sunset, who had given up on reason and was stringing together a tirade of curses so elaborate it somehow combined the Crown, mothers, a brothel, and a noose.


    From the balcony, Finella, forced to watch the chaos unfold, fired back at Roger. A bright yellow beam severed the chain holding the chandelier. With a deafening crash, Roger and the massive crystal fixture plummeted to the floor below.


    At the last moment, Bolaji deflected Simon¡¯s hands with his shield and jabbed the baronet in the stomach with the spear¡¯s tip. A golden flash erupted as Simon¡¯s amulet shield activated. The spear didn¡¯t pierce him, but it sent him sprawling onto the floor. Bolaji pressed his boot against Simon¡¯s stomach, forcing him to curl up like a pretzel, and raised the spear for another strike.


    The blade began to glow with the dark red energy of molten magma, and I realized the next strike would be Simon¡¯s last.


    Damn it!


    Three quick shots. Three fiery bullets hurtled toward the spear. I¡¯m a decent marksman ¨C Grandfather made sure of that ¨C but hitting the blade itself was a shot from the realm of fantasy. Not that it mattered; I missed anyway. The first two bullets whizzed past the wide steel tip, and the third struck the shaft. A normal spear would¡¯ve snapped in half, but the warlock¡¯s weapon merely shuddered, and the blow missed Simon¡¯s head by inches. Instead, the long leaf-shaped blade drove deep into the floorboards.


    Acting on reflex, Simon grabbed Bolaji¡¯s leg and sent a surge of lightning into it. Bolaji roared again and retaliated with a sharp blow from his shield, slamming it against Simon¡¯s already broken nose.


    Yan finally snapped out of his battle rage, realizing that the suspect he was guarding had almost been sent to the other side. Letting out an outraged roar, he turned his fury toward the warlock. Bolaji raised his spear once more, now imbued with the flowing power of water, but he didn¡¯t get the chance to strike.


    The bear¡¯s massive paw crashed down on Bolaji, forcing him to raise his shield. To my surprise, the warlock and the bear were roughly the same size ¨C and even more shockingly, their strength was evenly matched. Bolaji shoved Yan back and drove the spear into his chest. The tip pierced through muscle but lodged against bone. Yan roared again, this time in pain.


    That agonized roar seemed to jolt Roger back into action. The chandelier¡¯s rings began to rattle and clink with crystal as they shifted. From the shards of glass emerged Roger¡¯s scorched, bloodied face, his orange eyes burning like embers. His pistol rose with him, trailing a fiery plume as he fired.


    The enchanted bullet struck Bolaji square in the head, causing him to stagger.


    There was no flash, no visible shield, no sign of magical wards or amulets activating. And yet, Bolaji didn¡¯t fall. For a moment, his spear and shield drooped as he shook his head. Then he steadied himself and prepared to attack again.


    How?! How the hell is he still standing?


    Bolaji struck the spear¡¯s shaft against the floor, and the air filled with the deafening sound of hundreds of drums. The vibrations weren¡¯t just heard ¨C they were felt, as if my head had become one of those drums.


    The warlock swung at Yan again. The bear managed to intercept with his paw, but the spear pierced clean through it and became lodged in his hand. With his other paw, Yan grabbed the shield.


    By now, Roger had disentangled himself from the chandelier. He fired another shot before jumping to help his brother.


    Meanwhile, the Nina-Kate whirlwind of violence had transformed into a full-on brawl of vampires. Gratch bloodsucking boys overwhelmed the Lindemann girls, with Nina herself gaining the upper hand over Kate. For some reason, Simon dove into the fray, delivering generous doses of lightning to Kate¡¯s fighters.


    Damn it! The fight had long since crossed the point of no return and now threatened to spiral into a full-blown massacre. The drums tore at my nerves and spirit, and my strength was draining fast. Meanwhile, Bolaji only seemed to grow stronger. Even together, the Kilworth brothers couldn¡¯t slow him down.


    ¡°Fin! Ellie!¡± I shouted. ¡°We¡¯re leaving! John!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me!¡± Sunset shot back, reloading his revolver with almost gleeful precision. ¡°Our witness is right over there!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving!¡± I barked, grabbing the detective by the collar. I didn¡¯t give a damn about the witness ¨C not when John and the girls were in danger.


    Suddenly, the entire hall was engulfed in mist.


    ¡°Police Special Squad! Cease fighting immediately!¡± boomed a commanding voice, cutting through even the pounding drums. ¡°Face down on the floor!¡±


    ¡°Do it!¡± Sunset ordered. ¡°Now!¡±


    I quickly shoved my face to the floor. The last thing I wanted was to argue with the Kilworths¡¯ colleagues ¨C especially when they were angry. And they would be angry once they saw the state of their men.


    ¡°Fin, Ellie, do it!¡± I barked at the girls. You never knew what to expect from those... women.


    ¡°I said STOP!¡± the voice ordered again. ¡°Silence the drums!¡±


    The drums ceased, and suddenly it was easier to breathe. But the sounds of clashing steel, hissing vampires, crackling flames, and surging lightning still broke through the mist.


    ¡°Suppression,¡± commanded a calm voice.


    The sound of two submachine guns easily drowned out the chaos of the brawl, forcing anyone still standing to drop to the floor. Everyone except Bolaji. Through the haze of mist, I could see the glint of his spear.


    ¡°Listen here, blackface,¡± barked the voice again. ¡°We are the PSS! Police Special Squad, in case you missed the memo. I represent the law. If you don¡¯t put down that spear, we¡¯ll shove it so far up your arse. And just to make sure, we¡¯ll twist it three times for good measure!"


    ¡°Try it!¡± Bolaji roared in defiance.


    ¡°Execute pattern eighteen.¡±


    The mist swirled violently as a gust of wind tore through the room. The crackle of submachine gun fire filled the air, followed by the flash of ice, a burst of swampy sludge, and the echo of two heavy strikes.


    ¡°Stop!¡± came the same commanding voice. ¡°Either you surrender now, or we¡¯ll take you down for good.¡±


    ¡°I surrender!¡± Bolaji growled angrily.


    ¡°Restrain him.¡±


    ¡°Bertram,¡± Sunset called out. ¡°Can we get up yet?¡±


    ¡°Not just yet,¡± replied the unit commander. ¡°Let¡¯s secure the big guy first¡­¡±


    ¡°John, the girls¡­¡± I whispered, but the unfamiliar Bertram overheard me.


    ¡°That one with you, Sunset?¡±


    ¡°Yes, be so kind,¡± the detective replied.


    ¡°Just a couple more minutes. Now, listen up, gentlemen,¡± Bertram addressed the room, his tone sharp and unyielding. ¡°I¡¯m lifting the mist, but that doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re free to resume your brawl. Even if your opponent ends up within arm¡¯s reach, I strongly advise against making any sudden moves. Our guns are loaded with armor-piercing rounds capable of cutting through a wide range of shields, and the boys have orders to aim for the head. Got it? Good.¡±


    The mist began to dissipate, revealing the destruction left in the wake of the battle. The only ones still standing were the men in black vests marked with the crown, the letters PSS, and their police-issue helmets. Their arsenal was a mix of weapons: four Thompsons, an army-grade pump-action shotgun, a frost-enchanted axe, a versatile staff, and a pair of magical rods. And that was just the visible gear ¨C each fighter seemed armed for an entire war.


    I didn¡¯t notice at first, but Bolaji, now covered in frost, was still standing. However, his lower half was submerged in a makeshift sandpit that had replaced part of the floor. Two operatives shackled his wrists with heavy-looking cuffs, etched with seals and equipped with energy reservoirs. Only after restraining him did they pull him free and immediately lead him away.


    ¡°Ladies!¡± Bertram¡¯s voice rang out again. A tall man with graying temples and neatly trimmed mustache stepped forward, exuding quiet authority. ¡°Care to let each other go? While I¡¯m still being polite?¡±


    ¡°That bitch started it!¡± snapped Nina.


    Kate, unable to retort with her fangs buried in Nina¡¯s shoulder, yanked them out with a wet pop.


    ¡°You¡¯re the bitch!¡± Kate hissed. ¡°Trying to steal your lover right out from under the cops¡¯ noses!¡±


    ¡°Ladies!¡± Bertram barked, his eyes flashing with a shifter¡¯s golden glow. ¡°I don¡¯t care. Someone else will deal with this mess. Now separate. Quickly!¡±


    The vampire women grudgingly obeyed. Kate released Nina¡¯s hair and arm, while Nina withdrew her claws and fingers, which had been embedded under Kate¡¯s ribs all the way to the palm.


    ¡°Stand up,¡± Bertram commanded.


    The vampires complied once again, albeit reluctantly. Nina¡¯s lace lingerie-clad backside was on full display, her lower dress having been torn away in the fight. Kate, on the other hand, had lost the upper half of her dress, exposing an impressive bust marred only by four puncture wounds beneath her ribs.


    ¡°Do you need blood?¡± Bertram asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll manage!¡± Kate barked, more out of pride than practicality. The officer didn¡¯t press the issue.


    ¡°Shackle their hands, cover them with tablecloths, and get them out of here,¡± Bertram ordered. ¡°Dick, blood!¡±


    The man with the shotgun pulled a flask from his belt and tossed it to the commander. Bertram crouched beside a vampire I¡¯d shot earlier, the one with the twin gaping wounds in his chest. Helping the bloodsucker sit up, Bertram unscrewed the flask himself and pressed it to the man¡¯s trembling lips.


    ¡°Get up, detective,¡± Bertram said, taking the flask back and tossing it to his subordinate. ¡°That¡¯s enough for you,¡± he told the vampire, before adding, ¡°Take this around ¨C someone else might need it.¡±


    Sunset got to his feet, brushing off his pants. I gave him a questioning look. He gestured toward the commander, who nodded, granting me permission to stand as well.


    ¡°You don¡¯t go easy on my guys, Sunset,¡± the shifter remarked, glancing at the Kilworth brothers. A petite girl in a PSS vest hovered around them, treating their wounds both inside and out with a mix of potions and ointments.


    ¡°Well, I did request a squad right away!¡± John retorted indignantly. ¡°You know how these bureaucrats are.¡±


    ¡°I do. That¡¯s why we were patrolling nearby instead of sitting at the base.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Sunset said. ¡°You made it just in time.¡±


    ¡°What started all this?¡±


    ¡°That idiot over there,¡± John said, pointing at the baronet. ¡°He called the black guy an ape.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s his type?¡±


    ¡°Lightning sorcerer.¡±


    ¡°Mind if we have a little chat with him?¡± the officer asked.


    ¡°Be my guest, just make sure he¡¯s in a state to answer questions afterward.¡±


    ¡°You wound me. We¡¯ll be gentle.¡±


    Bertram snapped his fingers and gestured at Simon. Two operatives grabbed the baronet unceremoniously and dragged him toward the exit. I asked for leniency for the girls, and they let us go, though John stayed behind to speak with the club owner. It turned out that the PSS had saved us just in time ¨C the bouncers had been on the verge of grabbing enchanted ammo for their guns.


    I didn¡¯t make a fuss, but I did promise the girls that I¡¯d report everything to their families. Another scolding wouldn¡¯t hurt them.


    Pointless.


    The girls threw a fit, accusing me of ingratitude and every earthly sin imaginable. I was saved by John, who put his foot down and sent the heroines home in a police car.


    ¡°That went poorly,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°They¡¯ll survive,¡± Sunset said dismissively.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking about the girls.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯re even more wrong!¡± Sunset argued. ¡°Everything turned out great! Nina and Simon will be much easier to deal with now. And as for Bolaji, we¡¯ve got a reason to keep him behind bars while you sort things out with the Fairburns.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of which, where¡¯s August? I didn¡¯t see him in the fight.¡±


    ¡°He left for home ¨C right at the beginning.¡±

 Chapter 13

    I got home just before dawn, collapsed into bed, and woke up closer to noon ¨C but not so late as to bother waiting for a proper lunch with the others. Besides, a couple of cold toasts and fried eggs were waiting for me in the kitchen. With a hot cup of tea laced with a drop of milk, they went down easy enough.


    Once my body¡¯s basic needs were dealt with, I went looking for Harry. His office was empty. It seemed he¡¯d either put off dealing with the problem of the arch or hit a dead end. There was nothing new on the sheets of paper stuck to the walls and floor, so I headed to the hall.


    Behind the closed doors of place of power, Harry was tormenting Cap, making him draw ghost traps in chalk on the floor. I nodded instead of greeting them.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get distracted!¡± Harry barked at the kid when he tried to say hello. ¡°Your skills are nowhere near the level where you can multitask. Finish the drawing first, then greet people!¡±


    Cap hung his head like a condemned man and went back to carefully sketching runes at the corners of a triangle inscribed within a circle. There were twice as many runes as in Harry¡¯s own seals. I made a face of protest.


    ¡°What?¡± the wizard asked, confused.


    ¡°This is way more complicated than what you let me do!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s ritual magic. Or are you telling me that your bullet-enchanting circles are less intricate?¡±


    ¡°Well, no, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Then shut up and don¡¯t interrupt.¡±


    Cap stuck his tongue out in concentration, carefully finishing the last lines of the drawing before glancing uncertainly at Harry.


    ¡°Why are you looking at me?¡± Harry grunted. ¡°You had the diagram. If you did it right, it¡¯ll work. If not, the ghost will break free.¡±


    The boy¡¯s eyes widened in terror as he stared at the seal on the floor. He looked like he wanted to disappear. I took the opportunity to whisper to Harry.


    ¡°Was it really necessary to scare him like that? He¡¯s already¡­¡±


    Cap looked up and silently watched us. The kid wasn¡¯t much of a talker to begin with, but now, fear had completely robbed him of speech.


    Harry, however, ignored me completely and declared in a firm tone, ¡°Your seal, your ritual. I made it clear from the beginning ¨C I wouldn¡¯t interfere!''"


    Despite his rough life in the slums, Nathan was still just a child. He couldn¡¯t decide which frightened him more ¨C the ghost or his strict teacher. Fear slowly morphed into despair, and his eyes filled with tears. Harry, of course, didn¡¯t seem to notice.


    ¡°Can I step in?¡± I asked cautiously. A spark of hope lit up in Nathan¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°No! This is his task. Activate the damn trap already!¡± the wizard ordered.


    Cap flinched. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he sniffled and slowly extended a finger toward the white chalk line. He barely touched it before jerking his hand back. A small blue spark flared at the point of contact. For a moment, it looked like it might die out, but instead, the seal began drawing energy from the air. The white lines and runes glowed with ether, transforming into a complex version of the traps Harry used. Though Harry, of course, never needed chalk.


    Cap was so terrified that he began backing away until he hit the wall.


    We waited a few seconds. Then a few more. Finally, Harry lost patience and approached the chalk drawing.


    The lines are a bit uneven, but within acceptable limits. The angles are precise, and the runes are correct. Congratulations, you did it. The only thing you did wrong was crying about it.


    ¡°Then where¡¯s the ghost?¡± Nathan asked uncertainly.


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t manifested yet. We¡¯ll try again tomorrow. You¡¯re done for the day ¨C go rest.¡±


    Cap bolted out of the hall like a bullet, as if Harry might change his mind.


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t manifested?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "It hasn¡¯t manifested?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Did you see him? The kid nearly shit himself just working on the seal. The last thing he needs right now is a real ghost. The ones that were here, I sealed in vials before the ritual. We¡¯ll try it with a proper specter the day after tomorrow. Oh, and by the way, one of my theories was confirmed."


    ¡°Go ahead, make my day.¡±


    ¡°Simon isn¡¯t tied to the place of power.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m thrilled! Words can¡¯t describe how much. But wasn¡¯t that obvious from the moment he appeared at the Wilcox house?¡±


    Not entirely. He could have been drawing power from here. Not the worst possibility, despite an access to a free source of power. But in that case, I would¡¯ve been able to reach him.


    ¡°But you can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t without you!¡± Harry corrected. ¡°You¡¯re his anchor in the world of the living.¡±


    ¡°So, have you come up with a surefire way to kick his arse?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Harry admitted. ¡°This damn arch is melting what¡¯s left of my brains. You¡­¡±


    A telephone rang beyond the door. By silent agreement, Harry and I left the place of power. But by the time we reached the phone in the hall, it was too late ¨C Cap had already answered it from the second-floor extension. When Harry picked up the receiver, the call had ended, but he managed to catch Nathan before he disappeared.


    ¡°Who was it? ... Him only? ... Understood. Consider it passed on,¡± Harry said, hanging up. ¡°Sunset needs you. He told me to tell you to dress properly ¨C he¡¯ll be here in ten minutes.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Hell if I know. Nathan says he didn¡¯t say.¡±


    Ten minutes later, Harry and I were waiting by the gates as the inspector¡¯s car pulled up.


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re here too,¡± John said with a hint of relief when he spotted Harry. The detective looked worse for wear ¨C his shirt rumpled, dark circles under his eyes, and a tie that looked like it had doubled as a napkin. ¡°Here, take this!¡± he said, shoving two thick folders into Harry¡¯s hands. ¡°Everything I could scrape together on the Archmaker from other precincts. Consider it the most complete collection you can find.¡±


    Then he turned to me. ¡°Get in. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    "Where are we going?" I asked as I climbed into the seat next to the driver."


    ¡°To court. Chapman has questions. I don¡¯t know much more than you, but his tone wasn¡¯t exactly friendly.¡±


    We shut the doors, and Harry leaned toward the open driver¡¯s window.


    ¡°Why are you dragging Duncan along? To stop His Honor from yelling too much?¡±


    ¡°As much as I¡¯d love to use him as a scapegoat, that¡¯s not it. The judge specifically demanded his presence.¡±


    ¡°So, no good news, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Why not? Last night, I checked the mouths of every Gratch and Lindemann ¨C at least the ones on record. All their teeth are in place.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s good news?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all I¡¯ve got.¡±


    This time, the secretary didn¡¯t delay us or try to play games, though he still attempted to act as though he were some grand, important figure. But his performance fell flat ¨C he looked more like a peacock strutting around than anything else. If the Chief Justice himself had interrupted court proceedings to summon us, what was the point of this secretary puffing up like that?


    We were escorted almost immediately to a familiar office, where Clive Chapman was waiting. But this time, his father, James, was there as well. And before any of us could greet each other, the old man pounced.


    ¡°Tell me, John, what the bloody hell do you think you¡¯re doing dragging that young man around with you?¡±


    What¡¯s his problem? And why is he fixating on me, of all things? If it were about Simon, I¡¯d understand ¨C hell, I was prepared for that and even had a few answers ready.


    Sunset visibly bristled, rubbed his stubbled chin, and shot back in the same tone, ¡°Tell me, old man, what the bloody hell are you doing interfering in police business? Did we have another reform I missed?¡±


    ¡°Impudent whelp! You¡­¡± the old man growled, slamming his cane against the floor as he stood up.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Father!¡± the judge interrupted firmly. ¡°I allowed you to sit in, nothing more. One more outburst, and I¡¯ll throw you out myself.¡±


    ¡°You!¡± James Chapman started again, but his son cut him off.


    ¡°I am the Chief Justice, and you are a professor of history! No detective in the world is obligated to answer to you. At home, you can chew my ear off all you want, but here, keep yourself in check!¡±


    The old man gritted his teeth, puffed out his mustache, and sank back into his chair, radiating wounded pride. But what was he so offended by? Why had he inserted himself into this case in the first place?


    The judge, meanwhile, maintained a stony expression, as unbothered as if nothing had happened.


    ¡°My apologies, John, my father had no right to ask such questions¡­ But I do. And the fact that Sir Harry is helping you with the arch is a weak explanation.¡±


    ¡°The vampires are afraid of him,¡± John replied.


    ¡°And why would that be?¡± the old man asked, clearly baffled. He looked ready to press the issue further, but his son¡¯s stern glare silenced him.


    ¡°Now I believe it,¡± said the judge. He was likely one of those who knew the real story behind my arrival in the city ¨C or at least part of it. The old man, however, clearly didn¡¯t and threw me a mix of confused and suspicious looks. That¡¯s all he managed, but I was sure he¡¯d pepper his son with a barrage of questions after we left. And knowing the judge, he might not keep silent if his father started guilt-tripping him about being a bad son. Aunt Mary used that tactic on Logan and me often enough, and it rarely failed.


    The judge smoothed his mustache before asking his next question.


    ¡°Simon really is¡­¡± he began. John pretended not to understand, forcing Chapman to finish the question. ¡°¡­involved in this.¡±


    ¡°Of course he¡¯s involved!¡± John exclaimed. ¡°The whole fight started because of him¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about that, Sunset! And you know exactly what I mean!¡± the judge snapped, beginning to lose patience.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe¡­¡± John¡¯s voice rose as he continued, ¡°If I didn¡¯t have to rush off to report to a history professor, if I¡¯d been allowed to sleep after a night of interrogations and a full day on my feet, if I¡¯d been given the chance to do my job without constant interference¡­¡± He jabbed his index finger toward the judge. ¡°Maybe, Your Honor, then I¡¯d have this case figured out!¡±


    ¡°And yet here you are, still trying after¡­ how long has it been?¡± the old man interjected. ¡°Eighteen months? Two years?¡±


    ¡°Three years, old man. The Archmaker¡¯s been killing for three years ¨C eleven victims. But you don¡¯t care about them, do you? You¡¯re only interested in one particular criminal.¡±


    ¡°Gregor isn¡¯t a criminal!¡± the old man roared, standing again.


    ¡°Oh, and who would he be if your son hadn¡¯t gotten him off?¡±


    ¡°Detective Sunset!¡± the judge shouted, his voice rising to match the chaos, but John responded with an equally snide growl.


    ¡°Yes, Your Honor? The model of honesty, nobility, and perfection? What do you want to say? Something new? Something I haven¡¯t heard over the last eighteen months? Because back when the Archmaker first started, you couldn¡¯t have cared less about him from your ivory tower!"


    The conflict was spiraling out of control, and neither side seemed ready to back down. I remembered Harry¡¯s advice not to interfere, but what difference did it make now? If the judge really was complicit, then angering him would only worsen my chances. The Fairburns could push any decision through the court, and that was exactly where this was heading.


    ¡°Gentlemen!¡± I raised my voice.


    ¡°Shut up!¡± the old man barked. What the hell was his problem with me?


    ¡°You should be doing your job!¡± the judge yelled at John, ¡°instead of sitting around on your arse!¡±


    ¡°Oh, and you would know everything about police work from your high seat, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± John shot back.


    ¡°Thieves and bribe-takers, no better than the ones you chase!¡± declared the judge.


    ¡°Degenerates and parasites,¡± added his father, pouring oil on the fire.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± I shouted, drawing my pistol. I aimed it at the old man ¨C not at the judge, because that would¡¯ve been too risky, and firing at the ceiling might¡¯ve caused unnecessary damage. The old man immediately raised his left hand, materializing a large, round shield of fiery steel, while gripping his cane like a mace. Its head glowed with frost.


    John also drew his pistol, but pointed it at the judge, who hadn¡¯t expected such boldness and just stared, wide-eyed. For a moment, the room fell into silence. I seized the opportunity to build on it, demonstratively holstering my weapon.


    ¡°Gentlemen, if you know how to catch the Archmaker, perhaps you¡¯d like to share that information with the police? Or would you prefer to catch him yourselves? I¡¯m sure Detective Sunset wouldn¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand a damn thing, boy!¡± the old man shouted, shaking his cane. The shield remained in place, ready for action.


    ¡°Then explain it! Teach me!¡±


    I signaled to John to lower his weapon. Everyone noticed the gesture, but only John complied. The old man kept his shield raised, still shaking the cane, as if waiting for the slightest excuse to strike.


    ¡°You think this is some kind of game, smart guy?! Playing detective, are you? I demand that professionals handle this case, not amateurs!¡±


    ¡°Feel free to submit an official complaint to the police,¡± I replied calmly, watching as the old man turned crimson with rage.


    ¡°You¡­ I¡¯ll¡­¡±


    ¡°Father! This has gone too far,¡± the judge interrupted. ¡°Put down the cane.¡±


    ¡°But he¡­ he¡­ That boy¡­¡±


    ¡°Is right.¡±


    The old man grudgingly lowered his shield and thumped the floor with his cane.


    ¡°You think I won¡¯t do it, you little whelp?!¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯d better stop calling me that. I¡¯ve been giving you a pass because of your emotions, but another remark like that, mister, and you¡¯ll have to answer for your words!¡±


    ¡°Father!¡± the judge roared before the old man could retort. ¡°Leave!¡±


    ¡°But!..¡±


    ¡°Leave, I said!¡±


    James Chapman puffed out his mustache in indignation and stomped out of the room, his cane echoing loudly against the floor. The judge stared at John and me for a moment, his eyes hard, clearly weighing his next words.


    ¡°Lord Loxlin, I apologize. Our behavior was unacceptable.¡±


    It absolutely was.


    ¡°We may have overstepped as well,¡± I replied on behalf of both myself and John. He looked ready to protest, but I cut him off before he could speak. ¡°I, at least, managed to get some sleep. The detective has been on his feet for over a day, with an entire night of interrogations behind him. That¡¯s enough to wear anyone¡¯s nerves thin.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± the judge said, though the lack of sincerity in his tone was glaringly obvious. Still, formalities were observed, and now it was John¡¯s turn to make a move toward reconciliation. He hesitated, clearly reluctant.


    ¡°Returning to your question about Simon,¡± I said, gently nudging the topic forward but leaving the answer to John. The detective sighed in frustration and finally relented.


    ¡°He¡¯s definitely not the Archmaker. If he¡¯s involved, it¡¯s unintentional.¡±


    ¡°Your certainty is based on your latest theory that the Archmaker is a vampire?¡± the judge asked. ¡°But what if the vampire is just an accomplice?¡±


    Does he not know about the attack on me? John must have kept it under wraps. But why?


    ¡°Not just that,¡± John replied. ¡°One of the first attacks occurred on a night Simon spent behind bars. We only confirmed it yesterday, but we¡¯re in no rush to let him go. There¡¯s a chance Nina used him as an unwitting pawn. And that bitch is tough to crack. She¡¯s got experience ¨C prison experience ¨C from a less humane century. She knows how to keep her mouth shut.¡±


    ¡°So, in other words, you still have nothing concrete?¡± the judge asked, sounding thoroughly disappointed. The comment nearly pushed John over the edge, but this time, he managed to hold himself back.


    ¡°I¡¯m working on it. And you, Your Honor, should know how our work goes, yet you act like a civilian demanding a miracle!¡±


    ¡°Young man,¡± the judge turned to me, ¡°a lawsuit has been filed against you.¡±


    What a surprise! I wonder who it could be.


    ¡°Fairburns!¡± I blurted, barely stopping myself from cursing. There it was ¨C the move we¡¯d been expecting, and we didn¡¯t even have a lawyer yet. Well, why not? Last night, I saved the baronet¡¯s precious hide. Let Moody earn his keep. We¡¯d head straight to him after this.


    ¡°The accusation states that you provoked a fight with Sir August¡¯s bodyguard and had him thrown in jail under the guise of police connections.¡±


    The judge gave John a pointed look, clearly alluding to which connections were meant.


    ¡°Ridiculous!¡± John snapped. ¡°It was Simon who called him a dumb ape. And this isn¡¯t a matter for the courts. Accusations like this fall under the prosecutor¡¯s office.¡±


    Chapman nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll hand the case over after a thorough review.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s it?¡± I asked. ¡°Where¡¯s the scale? The resonance?¡±


    ¡°It reached your teacher.¡±


    ¡°And what does Harry have to do with any of this?¡±


    ¡°Oh, there¡¯s a custody lawsuit, all right. But Sir Harry is implicated in it as a slave owner and accused of using compulsion spells on children! Naturally, such actions disgrace the title of a Knight of the Empire, and with so many parties involved, the case could drag on for years.¡±


    Well¡­ they weren¡¯t playing around. I¡¯d better grab some newspapers ¨C who knows, they might already be running the story.


    ¡°Bastards,¡± Sunset muttered under his breath.


    ¡°I see the accusations didn¡¯t come as much of a surprise to you,¡± Chapman observed.


    ¡°Did they surprise you?¡± I asked in return.


    ¡°Not really. I was more surprised when Vincent Fairburn introduced me to Wimbush and asked me to help him with the guardianship case ¨C altruism isn¡¯t exactly his style. After that statement, though, everything fell into place.¡±


    I tried piecing together the fragments of this conversation into a coherent picture, but it only left me more confused. The old man¡¯s strange aggression, the judge¡¯s unexpected favor, and what could only be interpreted as a veiled warning ¨C it all felt disconnected, yet somehow tied together.


    ¡°As you can see, John,¡± the judge said with a bitter smirk, ¡°I¡¯m not entirely clean myself. I do use my position for personal interests. But don¡¯t bother running to the Chief Prosecutor ¨C I¡¯m playing golf with him tomorrow.¡±


    His sarcasm didn¡¯t seem to amuse Sunset, whose expression darkened further.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a week at most,¡± Chapman continued, his tone turning serious. ¡°That¡¯s how long the papers will take to pass through the clerks¡¯ office. Tomorrow¡¯s Saturday, but I¡¯d advise you to spend the weekend working ¨C crack Nina, follow the thread from the attack on Lord Loxlin. I can¡¯t stall this any longer.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really!¡± Sunset scoffed. ¡°Should I remind you of all the cases your ¡®champions¡¯ didn¡¯t even bother to take to trial?¡±


    ¡°There was nothing to latch onto,¡± Chapman countered sharply. ¡°The cases will proceed officially; anything else would look suspicious. After that, your collaboration with Sir Harry could become very complicated. I don¡¯t want the case falling apart over small mistakes¡ªespecially now that you seem to be on the right track. My father, on the other hand, thinks you¡¯re going to ruin it. He still has far more faith in my infallibility than you do, John. But I¡¯m ready to take a risk ¨C including with my position. We¡¯ve spent too long as mere bystanders in this case. Bring me the head of that bastard who took my son from me. And if breaking a few rules is what it takes¡­¡± The Chief Justice paused meaningfully, then gave a slow nod. ¡°¡­And if you can¡¯t, at least give me a name.¡±


    John raised his hand slightly, signaling a question. ¡°Just one thing. Who?¡±


    ¡°Who, what?¡± Chapman asked, puzzled.


    ¡°Who leaked the information about the attack on Duncan?¡±


    ¡°There are sources,¡± the judge replied with a thin smile.


    "A bloody gossip mill, not a precinct!" John cursed.

 Chapter 14

    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± I asked Sunset as soon as we left the building.


    ¡°Eggs with bacon and beans, a glass of gin, and a good, long sleep.¡±


    ¡°Then skip the gin.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I need, trust me on this,¡± he replied with the confidence of someone who¡¯d tested the theory many times.


    ¡°If we stop by Kettle¡¯s solicitor first, lunch is on me.¡±


    John shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t bother trying. I¡¯m ready to fall asleep right here on these steps.¡±


    The conversation with the judge had wrung out the last of the detective¡¯s energy. He¡¯d still been holding his ground back in the office, but now he looked like a seriously ill man.


    ¡°Hand over the keys,¡± I said. ¡°The last thing we need is you dozing off at the wheel. As Chapman said, we wouldn¡¯t want a small mistake derailing the investigation. Where do you live?¡±


    ¡°Near the railway station.¡±


    I gave John a surprised look. That was an odd choice, as if his salary didn¡¯t allow him to rent something in a nicer part of town.


    ¡°You like the constant rumble?¡±


    ¡°The neighbors are decent,¡± he countered.


    The place he directed me to turned out to be a cheap hotel, not just near the station, but in a neighborhood just one block away. However, it wasn¡¯t the polished, respectable front side with its fountain square, shiny taxis, clock tower, and heavy police presence. The buildings here barely maintained a veneer of decency thanks to a couple of pedestrian bridges over the maze of tracks and a cluster of railway workers¡¯ housing. But the area lacked any outward gloss. It was just the kind of place for someone with a tight budget and no lack of wits.


    John actually fell asleep during the ride. At first, I thought about not waking him, maybe trying to carry him inside. But I quickly realized that would do him no favors ¨C it would only undermine his authority in the eyes of the other guests and the staff. So, I had to wake him.


    He was very reluctant to come to. I doubted he¡¯d be frying up those eggs anytime soon.


    ¡°Already?¡± he asked, yawning so widely I thought he could swallow a football. ¡°You¡¯ll want to head that way, toward the bridge over the tracks. It leads straight to the station ¨C you¡¯ll figure it out from there.¡±


    ¡°Not even going to invite me in?¡± I said with mock offense.


    ¡°Get lost,¡± John muttered, yawning again. With a lazy wave of his hand, he shuffled into the building, whose very name cast a shadow over the whole neighborhood. The sign above the double doors read: ¡®The Last Decent Place.¡¯ Not the most confidence-inspiring slogan.


    Personally, I headed straight for the bridge.


    A few minutes later, I was back at the station. I called Harold Moody and arranged a meeting in an hour. Left with some time to kill, I started reminiscing about my first encounter with this city. Back then, a vulgar cabbie mistook me for a clueless country bumpkin with a fat wallet and handed me over to a gang of teenage thugs. Oh, what a mess that was¡­


    On a nostalgic whim, I hailed the same kind of cab, but this time I warned the cabman that I¡¯d been to my destination before and that I was armed. He seemed thoroughly spooked by what he probably thought was a lunatic, and I felt a bit guilty for scaring him. I tipped him a couple of extra fivepences to make up for it.


    I arrived at the office well ahead of the appointed time, leaving me with a few free minutes. I spent them over a cup of strong tea with milk at the nearest caf¨¦. How wonderful it was to just sit and not worry about vampires, ghosts, warlocks, assassins, or any other abominations. To simply enjoy the small pleasures of life¡­ If only my family were here to share it. Aunt Mary not lecturing me, Uncle Gordon cracking jokes, Logan making that serious face of his, and the little brats ¨C my nieces ¨C causing chaos. Grandfather¡­ Well, Grandfather wasn¡¯t coming back.


    What¡¯s wrong with me? I wiped at my damp eyes. The last thing I needed was to start sniffling now. Get it together, you fool. No weakness before battle!


    I rubbed my face, straightened up, and checked my watch. Still early. Well, so be it.


    This time, the entire Moody family was at the office. The junior partner, Harold¡¯s son-in-law, was busy with a client in his office, while Harold¡¯s daughter, who doubled as his secretary, was flipping through some papers in the reception area.


    The daughter bore all the family features but didn¡¯t share her father¡¯s drab appearance. She had a fashionable haircut, flawless makeup, and bright lipstick ¨C everything a good secretary should have. And considering that the second lawyer in the firm was her husband, even the boss-secretary romance box was checked.


    "Lord Loxlin," she greeted me politely. "Please, come in. Mr. Moody is expecting you. Tea? Coffee?"


    A cup would¡¯ve been a welcome excuse to stretch the time and mask my expression, but after the caf¨¦, I didn¡¯t feel like drinking anything. So, I declined, along with the offered biscuits.


    This time, Harold remained at his desk, gesturing for me to take the chair opposite him ¨C he must¡¯ve realized this conversation was going to be business-oriented. Nevertheless, he started with a thanks, offering me what felt like a hefty credit of trust.


    "Thank you for Simon. I heard you saved his life."


    Interesting. I wondered where he¡¯d heard that.


    "I spent this morning at the precinct," Moody said, answering my unspoken question. I nodded, accepting his explanation.


    Perfect. Now I could ask... but only for what was necessary. Simon¡¯s case was one thing; dealing with his lawyer was another. I hadn¡¯t saved Harold¡¯s life, which meant this so-called credit was fake, and his gratitude was likely a ploy to mislead me. After I¡¯d overplayed my hand, he¡¯d surely present a hefty bill.


    I caught myself smiling at the thought ¨C It probably looked odd. Replacing my expression with a more serious one, I decided not to expect too much and tried to set the boundaries of our discussion immediately.


    "Mr. Moody, you said I could turn to you if I needed help."


    Harold nodded. "I stand by my word."


    "Excellent," I said. But my case wasn¡¯t why I¡¯d come. I could handle that on my own; even the judge had called the accusations nonsense. The real issue was getting him to take Harry¡¯s case. "Are you familiar with my teacher?" I began, testing the waters.


    "Sir Harry? Only by the reputation."


    "Recently, he took on two apprentices: myself and¡­" I paused. "Is this conversation confidential?"


    "Of course!" Harold assured me. "Not a word will leave this office."


    "Myself and another ¨C an orphan, who suddenly found himself with a relative from the Dominion. And now I find out this relative has filed a lawsuit against my teacher, accusing him of magical compulsion and slavery. Will you take the case?"


    "Lord Loxlin, I told you I¡¯d help you..." Harold began, predictably hesitating before countering with his own terms.


    "A shame," I said, rising from my seat. "I¡¯ll have to ask my uncle to send a lawyer from Avoc."


    "I¡¯m not refusing," Harold said quickly.


    "I see. You¡¯re trying to up your price and force me into helping you with the baronet¡¯s case."


    "I¡¯m doing everything for the client. You could at least appreciate that."


    "I¡¯m not your client."


    "You could be..." Moody tried his fishing line again.


    "Do you know where I was an hour ago?" I asked, sinking back into the chair. "In Chapman¡¯s office. He was very interested in Simon¡¯s role in this case."


    Moody feigned interest but refrained from asking questions.


    "As I warned you, he doesn¡¯t like Simon," Moody remarked.


    "That¡¯s true," I confirmed. "He wasn¡¯t satisfied with the answer ¡®nothing¡¯s clear¡¯ and started demanding personal impressions and hypotheses."


    "As expected," Harold replied. I didn¡¯t engage further, and silence filled the room. He was waiting for me to continue, and I was waiting for him to make an offer. I finally gave in. We could play this game forever, but I didn¡¯t have that kind of time.


    Stolen story; please report.


    "You either take the case on my terms, without conditions or side deals, or we¡¯re done here."


    "What did you tell Clive?"


    "Not me ¨C Sunset said Simon isn¡¯t the Archmaker, but he might have been used unwittingly."


    The silence returned. Harold lowered his gaze, furrowed his brow, and seemed deep in thought about the implications. At first, I decided to wait, but after a few minutes, it felt like we were slipping back into the same old game. Disappointed, I sighed and stood up...


    "I¡¯ll take your case," Moody said unexpectedly.


    "A few minutes ago, you didn¡¯t even consider it mine."


    ¡°Let¡¯s leave it at that. I¡¯ll take the case. No ¡®additional¡¯ arrangements, as you put it. But it won¡¯t be free.¡±


    ¡°Understood. Any work deserves payment,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°I¡¯m not cheap,¡± Harold warned. ¡°Plus, there may be expenses for non-legal services.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, feigning interest.


    ¡°Bribes, detective services, search rituals, protective wards, concealment spells,¡± Moody explained, immediately adding, ¡°And don¡¯t ask unnecessary questions if you want me to use this arsenal for your case.¡±


    I nodded hastily in agreement.


    ¡°Very well. Let¡¯s head to Sir Harry. I¡¯ve got a few hours before I need to return to the precinct.¡±


    We took a taxi back to Harry¡¯s place. Moody pulled out a simple silence amulet and, wasting no time, began asking me about the situation, taking notes in a thick notebook. I gave him a condensed version of my encounter with the Sparrow brothers. Harold grumbled irritably about how I should have disclosed the number of children upfront. That wouldn¡¯t be the last time he grumbled, though.


    He wasn¡¯t thrilled to hear that the Fairburns were behind it all, but what upset him most was the news that I was also being sued. It wasn¡¯t the fact of the lawsuit itself that got to him ¨C it was that Simon had been the one to start the fight that caused it. The only thing that seemed to console Harold even slightly was my attempt to seek help from the clan.


    ¡°You could have sent the children to Bremshire immediately. I¡¯ve heard those forests can hide anyone.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, the Bremor Forest is no place for a game of hide-and-seek,¡± I assured him. ¡°We decided that the Fairburns were expecting us to do that and would¡¯ve used it against us, claiming we knew which children they meant and were trying to hide them as far away as possible.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± the lawyer agreed. ¡°Or maybe they just wanted to intercept the children en route and use them to blackmail you further.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem to think very highly of that family,¡± I remarked.


    ¡°When you¡¯ve spent your whole life in my line of work, you hear quite a lot of... unsavory rumors,¡± Moody said, refusing to elaborate further. Instead, he returned to the matter at hand. ¡°You played dumb, pretending not to understand what they were after. That¡¯s not enough. We need to prepare a counter-move. Wimbush is accusing Sir Harry of compulsion; the court will demand an evaluation, and they¡¯ll send someone who will, without a doubt, confirm the accusations.¡±


    ¡°You think the Fairburns have prepared for that too?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely. Otherwise, none of this makes sense. We¡¯ll need another specialist. Someone from outside the area, reputable, and unconnected to Wimbush, the Fairburns, or Smith.¡±


    ¡°Do you have someone in mind?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Moody said. ¡°The Earl of Bremor.¡±


    ¡°Bryce?¡± I asked in surprise. ¡°My uncle doesn¡¯t have compulsion magic.¡±


    ¡°But he has the right connections to find someone who does. Or¡­ we can circle back to those ¡®additional¡¯ measures.¡±


    I sighed. My obligations to the clan kept growing, but better that than the alternative Moody was proposing.


    ¡°No, thank you. I¡¯ll call my uncle.¡±


    ¡°Better yet, give me the contact for one of your clan¡¯s representatives. I don¡¯t need the number of Bremor¡¯s chief legal advisor, but two lawyers will understand each other better without intermediaries.¡±


    We had to pause the conversation as we arrived at ¡°The Anvil.¡± I warned Moody about the invisible traps and asked him to follow my steps exactly; otherwise, he might find his feet incinerated ¨C or, conversely, frozen to the bone. Harold took the precautions seriously, but the building itself failed to impress him.


    ¡°Does Sir Harry have the funds for my services?¡±


    ¡°Inside this battered building is a place of ether power,¡± I reminded him.


    ¡°Fair enough. But I¡¯d still prefer pounds over ether.¡±


    I¡¯d expected Harry to meet us in the foyer. Our arrival certainly wouldn¡¯t have gone unnoticed, but instead of the wizard, we were greeted by Cap. Tucked under the boy¡¯s arm was a large jar inscribed with seals ¨C the one Harry had used to trap the ghost of the rat.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I asked after the boy greeted the guest on behalf of his teacher.


    Nathan sighed and showed me the jar, inside which a tiny blue spark flitted about the bottom.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t get it... Wait. This isn¡¯t the same seal that was on the rat jar. Yes, this one¡¯s for containment, and that one¡¯s for stabilization.¡±


    ¡°Ahem!¡± Moody cleared his throat loudly and deliberately.


    ¡°Apologies, got carried away,¡± I said, turning to the boy. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°A ghost ant,¡± Cap muttered with the most miserable expression I¡¯d ever seen on his face. Yet there wasn¡¯t a trace of fear in him. How on earth had Harry come up with this? ¡°Please, Mr. Moody, follow me. Sir Harry will be down shortly.¡±


    Nathan led us to the sitting room where I¡¯d first spoken with Lucas Lindemann and offered tea. Moody declined, just as I had earlier. I pulled the kid aside and asked quietly:


    ¡°What¡¯s going on with Harry?¡±


    ¡°About half an hour ago, he started shouting and swearing. I nearly dropped the jar. Knuckles came running with his submachine, but it turned out Harry was just¡­ excited.¡±


    ¡°The arch?¡± I asked hopefully.


    ¡°Yeah, but I didn¡¯t understand what exactly,¡± Cap replied.


    ¡°Mr. Moody, excuse me for a moment,¡± I said.


    I left the room with a deliberate air of importance, but as soon as I hit the stairs, I flew up them without caring about appearances. If Harry had figured out the system behind the arch, this changed everything!


    I didn¡¯t bother knocking.


    Harry was standing by the wall, enthusiastically painting over runes on the arch model. He was using a large brush, dipping it occasionally into a jar of white wood paint. When he saw me, he simply hissed irritably and continued his work.


    I examined the arch and noticed that a good third of the formulas were already gone. At least one chain was now clear to me ¨C restrictions on the magical field. And down there, there was a universal link-converter. A mirrored version of it should be on the other half of the floor diagram.


    He really was starting to make sense of it?!


    ¡°Is this genius at work or madness?¡± I asked cautiously.


    ¡°I remembered your little stunt in the library. You made a few mistakes there.¡±


    ¡°And how did that help?¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t the arch work? So many symbols... Maybe he made mistakes too? I started looking. Carefully, I eliminated one symbol here and another there. At first, I was convinced the error lay in another, missing part of the diagram. But the Archmaker always left a burned wall behind him, and here we have half the ritual scheme intact. What criminal would leave without covering their tracks? He must have sabotaged it, and he did!¡±


    ¡°By adding extra symbols.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. None of this made sense because it wasn¡¯t supposed to work!¡±


    Harry feverishly painted over several more symbols and stepped back.


    ¡°Roughly like this. Look, it¡¯s starting to take shape. Now I need to check the chains themselves, compare them...¡±


    ¡°Harry,¡± I interrupted. ¡°There¡¯s a solicitor sitting in the living room, ready to take our case.¡±


    ¡°What case?¡±


    Harry¡¯s thoughts were clearly elsewhere, and I hadn¡¯t told him everything yet.


    ¡°Guardianship,¡± I reminded him. ¡°And you¡¯re being accused of compulsion and slavery.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± the wizard asked in disbelief.


    ¡°Harry, focus,¡± I said, trying to reel him back in. ¡°Get your head in the game.¡±


    ¡°The Fairburns!¡± Harry exploded.


    ¡°Let¡¯s keep emotions out of this. Wash the paint off your hands and let¡¯s head downstairs. He doesn¡¯t have much time, and I need to call home to ask for help.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll handle it ourselves!¡± the angry wizard snapped.


    ¡°As you say,¡± I agreed, though only outwardly.


    By the time we made it downstairs, I had warned Harry that Moody would likely try to rope him into helping Simon.


    ¡°And why would we want him on our side?¡± the wizard asked.


    ¡°Well, for one, he¡¯s definitely not working for the Fairburns,¡± I replied.


    ¡°But he might be working for the Archmaker.¡±


    ¡°The Archmaker is a vampire,¡± I reminded him.


    ¡°Not necessarily. Didn¡¯t you notice anything from studying the arch?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± I admitted.


    My answer came as we approached the sitting room, but I wasn¡¯t about to continue this conversation in front of Moody, and Harry blocked the doorway. Clearly, he didn¡¯t think so either.


    ¡°Sunset and I assured the judge that Simon isn¡¯t the Archmaker.¡±


    ¡°That was reckless,¡± Harry said flatly.


    ¡°Not funny. Spill it ¨C what did you mean?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a system for extracting energy. At least, that¡¯s what I think.¡±


    ¡°Like a sacrificial altar?¡±


    ¡°Something like that. This device could function as one too. And do you know how sacrificial altars affect cultists?¡±


    ¡°They change them ¨C make them faster, stronger, less sane. And if the spirit they¡¯re feeding reaches a higher tier, it can even grant them magic,¡± I said.


    ¡°And the cult¡¯s high priests become warlocks, even if they didn¡¯t have a developed spiritual heart beforehand,¡± Harry added.


    I frowned at his statement. Cultists with powers didn¡¯t automatically become warlocks.


    ¡°Well, by then their hearts are usually developed enough,¡± I countered. I¡¯d delved into this topic a bit when I was looking for ways to remove my seals. It was a deeply unpleasant subject. ¡°Developed but warped by the energy of sacrifices. And that energy ¨C it takes a lot. The Archmaker hasn¡¯t killed even a hundred people, while cultists send hundreds to the grave in the name of their rituals.¡±


    ¡°There are gaps in your education,¡± Harry remarked. ¡°Cultists work in groups. He operates alone. And his energy-gathering formulas are far superior. But even so, he¡¯d still need to remain within the ritual¡¯s zone of influence.¡±


    ¡°The energy could have changed him,¡± I realized. ¡°Given him fangs, for instance. But you¡¯re still wrong.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Kettle is a sorcerer. Strong, but limited in his techniques. I watched him fight at the club. Aside from one lightning attack, he had nothing else ¨C not even when Bolaji nearly pinned him to the floor with a spear. No one could fake it in a situation like that. Instinct would make you use every ability you¡¯ve got.¡±


    ¡°Fair point,¡± Harry agreed. ¡°But it wouldn¡¯t hurt to check him for abnormalities.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m all for it,¡± I replied.

 Chapter 15

    Harold Moody stayed with us a bit longer than he had initially planned. He started with Cap while Harry and I were descending, easing into his questioning of the lad about the jar with the spark. Later, I asked Harry if it really was an ant¡¯s ghost, to which the wizard only raised an eyebrow sceptically. But the boy believed it, and that was enough. It was clear that the lawyer wasn¡¯t interested in the jar itself ¨C he was merely trying to win the boy¡¯s trust, as a lad brought up in the slums wouldn¡¯t open up to a stranger so easily. Moody also questioned Harry and me, but we managed to keep quiet about half of what had happened concerning the arrival of the street kids at the house. The Lindemanns I had killed weren¡¯t exactly a secret.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± Harold said, noticing our omissions, ¡°a lawyer is much like a doctor. Without knowing all the symptoms, I cannot make a diagnosis.¡±


    By then, I¡¯d had enough of all this dodging and skirting around the truth, and I lost my temper a little. Not enough to reveal the full extent of Lindemann¡¯s schemes and Simon Feron¡¯s involvement, but enough to give him a bit more than I¡¯d intended.


    ¡°The Fairburns tried to blow up the manor, sending me with a bomb that was supposed to activate on-site and later poison the nascent place of power with death. What more do you need to understand?¡±


    ¡°When you decided to assist Detective Sunset, I ran a background check. Clint Sparrow¡¯s name appears in the files on Noah Valentine¡¯s case.¡±


    ¡°Bloody hell!¡± I swore. Damn it, John had been right: it wasn¡¯t a police force, it was a gossip mill! ¡°There¡¯s no point giving the lads different names, is there?¡±


    ¡°None,¡± Moody agreed. ¡°You¡¯d be caught in a lie soon enough, and possibly for forgery as well. I don¡¯t know how far you¡¯ve taken this.¡±


    The solicitor bombarded us with another dozen uncomfortable questions, managing to get answers to a few of them. Then he sent me out of the parlour to make some phone calls. It took me four numbers to get through to anyone. My uncles weren¡¯t home, not even my cousin Evan was around, but I eventually found him at Sally¡¯s house. Evan was babysitting his grandson. According to Sally, the young grandfather was causing more chaos than the child and exhausting everyone far more.


    The battle-hardened warlock took a while to switch back to business mode after all the ¡°coochy-coos¡± and ¡°goo-goos.¡± For a good three minutes, he had no idea what I was asking of him, but he eventually wrote down Moody¡¯s phone number and promised to handle the matter by the end of the day. I returned to the solicitor empty-handed, but he didn¡¯t seem to have expected an immediate resolution anyway. Taking advantage of the fact that he and Harry had finished their conversation, I burdened him with another problem: land issues.


    ¡°Just buy it?¡± Harold didn¡¯t quite understand.


    ¡°Acquire it in Smuggler¡¯s Bay slums,¡± I clarified. ¡°Most of that land is divided between His Worship and the Duke. Only small patches remain in private hands.¡±


    ¡°I take it the value of that land is likely to rise soon?¡± Harold probed.


    ¡°What makes you say that?¡±


    ¡°I see no other reason for you to want to buy it.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ Yes,¡± I admitted, ¡°but the timing of this ¡®soon¡¯ is highly uncertain.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d delegate this matter to my daughter. She¡¯s good with paperwork, and that¡¯s exactly what you need, isn¡¯t it? To locate the owners and offer them the lowest possible price?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°What sort of finances are you working with?¡±


    ¡°Right now ¨C just over two thousand pounds.¡±


    Moody raised an eyebrow in surprise.


    ¡°Not much for any serious dealings, even considering the cheapness of contaminated land.¡±


    I hurried to add, ¡°I¡¯ll be receiving another fifteen hundred soon, and I¡¯ll gain access to a bank account inherited from my grandfather. Unfortunately, I forgot to ask how much was in it¡­¡±


    At the time, Simon had been of far greater interest to me.


    ¡°That was rather careless of you,¡± Moody remarked. ¡°I¡¯ll have my daughter research the prices and begin the search. But you must understand, free land in a city is practically unheard of. In the City proper, a couple of business towers stand on the Duke¡¯s land. The owners are merely leasing it for a hundred years. The slums are far from the City, but don¡¯t expect owners to sell their land for pennies. As for our fee, we¡¯ll set a fixed rate per acre instead of a percentage of the purchase price. Does that work for you?¡±


    ¡°Well, it depends on the fee,¡± I said.


    ¡°We¡¯ll determine that after assessing the market and your available finances. Good day, gentlemen.¡±


    Harry and I hadn¡¯t even had time to exchange thoughts before new guests arrived. Flower showed up, and he¡¯d dragged Sheridan along with him. We greeted them at the door.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to pin everything on me again,¡± I muttered to Harry, and I was right. The blind face of the sorcerer, now up close, expressed nothing short of extreme irritation.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t even start!¡± I barked first, hoping Harry wouldn¡¯t let him fry me on the spot. ¡°I didn¡¯t know the girls would be at the Tear!¡±


    ¡°The fact that you were there was enough to send everything to hell!¡±


    ¡°And whom do you see in me?¡± I shot back.


    ¡°What?¡± James frowned in confusion.


    ¡°You clearly think I remind you of someone ¨C someone who¡¯s really pissed you off. Do we have the same name? Where does this bias come from?¡±


    James fell silent. Strangely enough, for the first time, he didn¡¯t know what to say. I¡¯d actually managed to shut him up! But not for long.


    ¡°You¡¯re spouting nonsense!¡± Flower snapped back after a brief pause.


    ¡°He¡¯s got a point,¡± Sheridan rumbled in his deep, measured voice.


    ¡°Hal, not you too! Fine, let¡¯s set aside emotions and stick to the cold facts,¡± James said, though each word dripped with bile. ¡°Think about it: he met the girls, and they went off hunting vampires. He went to the Golden Tear with Finella ¨C roadside shootout. He moved into our neighborhood ¨C vampire attack. Went back to the Tear ¨C fight, and the girls nearly got hurt.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m just a bloody menace, aren¡¯t I? And what exactly were our lovely ladies doing at the Tear?¡±


    ¡°Having fun,¡± James replied sourly. ¡°What else would those steel-headed fools have on their minds these days?¡±


    ¡°Sitting at the same table as Kate Lindemann?¡± I asked.


    James opened his mouth and then shut it again.


    ¡°Now, that¡¯s something I¡¯d like to hear more about,¡± Hal interjected. ¡°Because we had a vampire lurking around the district all day until I yanked out his fangs. Tough bastard, didn¡¯t say a word.¡±


    ¡°A man?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    ¡°Of course, it does. Kate only keeps women in her nest. If it was a man, then the bloodsucker must have been from Gratch¡¯s nest.¡±


    ¡°Or,¡± Harry added, ¡°the Valentines are back in the game.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope not. I think Kate¡¯s just trying to secure her position.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t follow,¡± James admitted.


    ¡°She¡¯s trying to show she¡¯s on good terms with anyone of note, so Nina doesn¡¯t crush her nest.¡±


    ¡°What exactly do those two airheads bring to the table?¡± Flower retorted, more to show his attitude than out of genuine curiosity. I didn¡¯t even need to correct him ¨C Sheridan handled it himself.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Nothing. But one of them has a brother who helped wipe out another nest. And I, despite my peaceful profession, have a bit of a reputation myself. Makes sense, doesn¡¯t it? Ah, my poor daughter, my belt is crying for you.¡±


    ¡°Shall we step inside and discuss this over tea?¡± Harry suggested.


    Thanks to Hal, the conversation remained civil, though I suspect it will have unpleasant consequences for the girls. Hal even openly suggested James should finally give his sister a good thrashing since no other method seemed to work. He regretted sparing Ellie, he said, and now he regrets it even more.


    I spent the rest of the evening on the phone. Harry¡¯s long-distance bill will likely be miles long, but at least I managed to track down Logan. I gave him the code to Granddad¡¯s safe and told him to wire me whatever cash was left inside. The bank account, however, proved to be much trickier. It turned out I hadn¡¯t even formally claimed my inheritance yet, and to do that, I¡¯d have to visit the Royal Bank of Avoc in person. That meant tracking Logan down again and ordering him to check the safe for any relevant documents. Surely there must be something there.


    Harry, meanwhile, spent his time more productively, devising a scheme to examine Simon¡¯s subtle body. Still, he didn¡¯t consider his knowledge absolute and wasn¡¯t above using physical diagnostic methods. Why waste a ton of energy when the baronet had a broken fang? It might¡¯ve been worth nudging Sunset to get a dentist involved, but the bloodsuckers had already been checked, and a renewed interest might tip someone off. We already knew the precinct leaked like a sieve, so any element of surprise would have been lost.


    That¡¯s when I remembered that Sheridan was also rather skilled with teeth ¨C he could restrain a patient with one hand and, if necessary, snap their neck with it too. Hopefully, the baronet¡¯s honour wouldn¡¯t suffer too much from being examined by a vet, especially since Sheridan agreed to it with great enthusiasm, particularly after learning that the fight at the Golden Tear had been the ¡®patient¡¯s¡¯ fault.


    In the morning, we startled Sunset by showing up unannounced at the station. Clean-shaven, freshly scrubbed, but still gloomy and clearly not well-rested, the detective immediately straightened up and tensed. We hadn¡¯t warned him, after all. Leaving Sheridan in the hallway, we locked ourselves in his office and dumped a pile of information on him ¨C first about the arch and the cultist theory, then about the magical-dental plan for inspection. Upon hearing that we¡¯d made progress on the arch, John was ready to let the baronet be a test subject, let alone have his teeth checked.


    The problem, however, was that Kettle wasn¡¯t being held at the percinct; he was at the Special Squad¡¯s facility in Castle Rock. The conditions there were better suited for containing gifted criminals: thicker bars, stronger spells, and an entire building full of sharp-toothed guards. Literally sharp-toothed, considering how many shifters worked there. Still, it wasn¡¯t an issue; the detective had been granted broad authority for this case.


    We were quickly given an empty interrogation room with a metal chair bolted to the floor. With its abundance of straps and restraints, you could conduct surgery without anaesthesia in it, never mind an inspection. I made this observation to one of the constables assigned to accompany us.


    ¡°Come now, my lord!¡± the constable exclaimed in indignation. ¡°Next you¡¯ll say we beat people here! It¡¯s all for show. Suspects get so frightened they spill all their secrets straight away. We don¡¯t lay a finger on them.¡±


    Harry approved of the room, but some of the restraints had to be removed because they were enchanted for durability and could interfere with the examination spells. While the constables worked, we waited in the hallway. When they were done, they brought in the baronet.


    Despite looking like a raccoon ¨C thanks to two purplish shiners under his eyes and a swollen nose ¨C Kettle hadn¡¯t lost his spirit, even if his speech was nasal and slurred.


    ¡°Gentlemen!¡± he greeted us thickly. ¡°How on earth did you end up here?¡± The constable opened the door for him, and Kettle caught sight of the chair. ¡°Not again!¡± he shouted, planting a foot against the doorframe. ¡°I¡¯ve already confessed everything yesterday!¡±


    The second constable gave Simon a gentle tap in the kidneys and dragged him into the room.


    ¡°You said you don¡¯t beat people?¡± I asked the first constable.


    ¡°Perish the thought,¡± he replied indignantly. ¡°It¡¯s against the law!¡±


    I glanced at Sunset, but his expression gave nothing away. It seemed such minor details didn¡¯t concern him.


    Once the baronet had been secured, we entered the interrogation room, which was now so crowded it felt claustrophobic. Sheridan set his bag of tools on the floor, pulled out a pair of thick leather gloves, and slipped them on.


    ¡°Is this really necessary?¡± Simon asked nervously. ¡°I swear, I¡¯ve already confessed everything!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, young man. I¡¯m not going to hurt you,¡± Hal said, pulling out a pair of pliers big enough to pull a bear¡¯s teeth. "Let¡¯s have a look inside, shall we?"


    ¡°Mm-mm!¡± Simon shook his head furiously, but Sheridan had his own opinion on the matter. He gripped Simon¡¯s jaw firmly and pressed his thumb beneath the ear. The baronet¡¯s mouth opened involuntarily, and the vet promptly stuck the pliers inside. I¡¯d thought they were for teeth, but Hal grabbed Simon¡¯s tongue instead and yanked it out. I¡¯d never realised it was that long! Nor did I know that sorcerers could channel their element through it. Simon¡¯s tongue sparked and crackled, and the pliers were clearly under some kind of current, but Hal¡¯s thick gloves kept him well protected.


    ¡°So he doesn¡¯t bite,¡± Sheridan explained. However, he didn¡¯t actually use his hands to inspect the teeth. Instead, he pulled out a small mirror on a bent handle and slipped it into Simon¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°Sir Harry, if you¡¯d be so kind as to provide some light.¡±


    Harry quickly traced a rune of light in the air, infused it with energy, and sent it floating towards the vet.


    ¡°Thank you... Ah, yes... Mhm...¡± Sheridan turned the mirror, tapping it against the teeth with the handle before putting it aside and lifting Simon¡¯s upper lip. ¡°Ordinary human teeth. In good condition, as far as I can tell. No chips or cracks in the canines. Shall we let him go?¡±


    Harry nodded. Sheridan released Simon¡¯s lip and tongue, and the baronet immediately yanked his "flapper" back in and attempted to swear. It came out emotional but utterly unintelligible.


    ¡°Am I done here?¡± Sheridan asked. ¡°I¡¯ve got a cat castration scheduled in half an hour.¡±


    Whatever Simon had been planning to say, he swallowed it, clamping his legs together instinctively.


    ¡°We won¡¯t keep you, Mr. Sheridan,¡± Harry said, shaking the vet¡¯s hand, though a constable interjected.


    ¡°Do you charge much for that? We¡¯ve occasionally got a few stray toms ourselves¡­¡± He glanced sideways at Simon. ¡°We can discuss it outside.¡±


    Sheridan left the room with the constable. Sunset sent the other copper packing as well, then positioned himself in the corner behind Harry. I took the other corner. Once we were in place, Harry retrieved his spellbook. The diagram he copied from its pages was clearly inspired by the Archmaker. At least in form. The entirely ethereal arch also featured a ring studded with runes from various elements. A second ring, distinct from the arch itself, hovered over Simon¡¯s head, while a third, simpler arch without figures ¨C just a dozen runes ¨C appeared in front of him.


    ¡°Um¡­ Gentlemen, what exactly is happening?¡± the baronet asked, eyeing the magical figures nervously. Naturally, no one answered him.


    The arches didn¡¯t cost Harry much, thanks to his personal ether place of power, but the ring above Simon¡¯s head ¨C infused with various elements ¨C drained a significant portion of his reservoir stones. If Harry had been billing Sunset for the effort, the police department would surely have declined the service. Fortunately, Harry had taken on the task under different terms, and his scientific curiosity was piqued.


    Following the wizard¡¯s gestures, the ring above Simon¡¯s head began to spin, glowing brighter and brighter with every rotation. The baronet glanced up nervously and made another futile attempt to test the restraints. Sparks flew from the chair, but Harry ignored them, extending his right hand to focus on the second ring behind Simon. That ring also began to spin, its runes blurring into luminous lines. Soon, the two rings matched speeds, and Harry clenched his left hand into a fist. A column of multicoloured light shot down from the top ring. Simon jerked and tensed. Harry clenched his right fist, and a burst of ethereal light bloomed behind the baronet, illuminating his form down to the bones.


    Harry¡¯s arch shimmered, and then the image of a human on the chair was replaced by a vivid picture of his subtle body.


    I could have seen something similar with my third eye if I¡¯d simply focused. Harry, however, could perceive far more, though even gifted individuals of his calibre could easily mask their true nature. Take Flower, for example. In the subtle planes, he looked only slightly stronger than his sister, but in reality, he was a fire-breathing monster. The ritual Harry had initiated left no room for such deceptions.


    ¡°Well?¡± Sunset finally broke the silence.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious too,¡± Simon added nervously.


    The image was remarkably clear: torn patches of aura typical of a reckless drinker, a faint layer of grime, a dense violet orb in the elemental source, and matching channels running through the subtle body. His spiritual heart was completely sealed, and a blue spark of ether glimmered in his third eye.


    Unable to hold back, Sunset stepped closer and pointed at the patch of grime.


    ¡°Is that it?¡±


    ¡°No. He just needs to stop sleeping with vampires,¡± Harry replied. ¡°The grime is superficial. If it were the kind of darkness we discussed, it would be embedded deep within the body, like these channels.¡±


    ¡°For goodness¡¯ sake, would someone tell me what¡¯s going on?!¡± the baronet snapped, his perspective clearly offering him a very different view.


    ¡°I¡¯ll call a constable,¡± Sunset threatened. ¡°He¡¯ll explain it to you ¨C and it won¡¯t be pleasant.¡±


    The baronet fell silent, and Sunset sighed, visibly disappointed.


    ¡°Another dead end¡­¡±


    Harry dispelled the magic. After the vivid illuminations, the room plunged into near darkness.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter with you?¡± I asked John. ¡°You didn¡¯t believe he was the killer anyway.¡±


    ¡°Well, now we¡¯ve got proof. We¡¯ll have to let him go. Moody¡¯s been banging his hoof and head against high office doors since yesterday.¡±


    ¡°What are you waiting for, then?¡± Simon grumbled. ¡°Take off the cuffs!¡±


    ¡°I might just call the constables again!¡± Sunset repeated his threat.


    ¡°You¡¯ve still got vampires to deal with,¡± I reminded him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any vampires left,¡± Sunset muttered. ¡°Would you believe it ¨C they have no complaints. The owner of the Tear has no complaints. And this one¡­¡± He gestured at Simon. ¡°None. Bolaji suddenly ¡®no under stand Duthigh¡¯ well enough, and his solicitor claims his client got upset due to a language barrier. The patrons saw nothing. Only me and the PSS guys are making claims!¡±


    ¡°Claims?!¡± Simon protested. ¡°Who¡¯s got claims after last night¡¯s brawl, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Constables!¡± Sunset barked calling.


    ¡°I was joking!¡± Simon backtracked immediately.


    ¡°This one¡­¡± John trailed off and sighed. ¡°Let him go.¡±

 Chapter 16

    I was heading home without Harry. The wizard had stayed behind with Sunset to discuss cultists, sectarians, maniacs, and other lunatics. It was possible that before the arch came into play, our killer had been using more primitive methods, but the police had failed to link those crimes to the current ones.


    Knuckles dropped me off at the porch and drove off to park the Royal in the makeshift shelter that had replaced the stables after Harry and James had spectacularly demolished them. I entered the house, determined to make the most of the day improving my magical defences and knowledge.


    For some time, I¡¯d been toying with the idea of creating a ghost-repelling ring. I hadn¡¯t decided yet whether it should serve as a shield or an offensive spell capable of destroying an ethereal body. I had already jotted down formulas against ethereal entities in my journal, which for now served as a makeshift spellbook. I had to be realistic: I wasn¡¯t ready for a proper one yet. I could have started a small notebook for a dozen spells, but I was still in the process of forming that dozen, having shamefully delayed Harry¡¯s task. Unfortunately, spells weren¡¯t something I could rely on in a critical moment, whereas a ring on my finger¡­ At this rate, I¡¯d end up decking myself out like a cheap harlot. Still, better that than dying at the hands of a ghost.


    I glanced into the library, grabbed a few books, and swiped another reference manual from Harry¡¯s desk. A chill ran down my spine. I turned sharply, my eyes locking onto the arch. It seemed as though a few papers on the floor had stirred.


    A draught?


    I instinctively opened my third eye and spotted an ethereal shadow seeping through the floor. What was this filth wandering about in the house? What was below us? I mentally mapped the house¡¯s layout. It seemed to be an empty sitting room ¨C possibly the same one we¡¯d used yesterday.


    I darted into the hallway and bounded down the stairs, nearly knocking Cap over in the process.


    ¡°Watch it!¡± the boy yelped, clutching the jar with the spark he was holding under his arm. He managed to save the jar but fell onto his backside, sliding down a few steps in the process.


    Ignoring him, I rushed on, taking a detour through the kitchen, as the most direct route went through the hall, and I had no intention of barging into the place of power without Harry. He¡¯d set up some kind of elaborate protection system there that shielded the rest of the house from the ether. It still seeped through, of course, but not as much as it could have.


    The sitting room was empty. Either I¡¯d miscalculated the layout or the shadow had already moved on. Stepping into the adjacent room, I immediately spotted a blue stream of ether near the hall wall. The shadow was trying to reach the source, but Harry¡¯s defences were holding it back. It crept further, leaving no trace of the ethereal mist that usually seeped through the barier. A ghost or a spirit ¨C whatever it was, it was feeding. The shadow thickened, taking on increasingly human-like contours.


    Damn it, how inconvenient! I couldn¡¯t gauge how much energy this leech was consuming or how much damage it was doing to the defences ¨C if it was doing any at all. Was it dangerous, or could it, conversely, provide a couple of vials of ectoplasm and a handful of other ingredients worth thousands of pounds?


    The shadow quickly slid to the corner and slipped through the wall to the outside of the building.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Cap asked, finally catching up to me. He hadn¡¯t managed to see the ghost.


    ¡°Nothing. Go take a walk.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re hiding something, Duncan!¡±


    The lad had grown bolder. He used to only call me ¡°Lord.¡±


    ¡°Get out of here!¡± I ordered, throwing open a window and leaning out to peer along the wall. The figure seemed to walk through the air, half of its body outside while the other half remained embedded in the wall. The ethereal entity hadn¡¯t even finished circling the hall, yet it had already grown a discernible arm.


    I glanced back. Through the hall wall where the shadow had passed, ether was once again beginning to seep. At this rate, it would soon regenerate a full body. And then what? It was entirely possible I was witnessing the birth of a spirit. It wouldn¡¯t necessarily turn out evil ¨C that would largely depend on its first encounter with humans.


    Harry, Harry, damn you to hell ¨C I don¡¯t even know where to find you!


    Running outside was pointless; the thing would just crawl back into the house again, passing through another couple of walls before ending up near the hall doors, where the ether concentration was much higher.


    Cap ignored my order to leave and froze in the doorway, watching nervously. Perhaps that wasn¡¯t such a bad thing after all.


    ¡°Call the police immediately and ask for Harry. He¡¯s either with Sunset, at the Fourth Precinct, or at the Special Squad base. Tell them we¡¯ve got an emergency involving the place of power. Go!¡± I barked.


    Cap flinched, nearly dropping the jar with the spark, then bolted for the phone. Meanwhile, I returned to the hall to wait for the shadow by the door.


    ¡°Use the phone on the second floor!¡± I shouted after him.


    I wasn¡¯t lacking in manners, really ¨C I just preferred to stay prepared. Besides, my tone and demeanour were persuasive enough to send Nathan scurrying upstairs with his jar in hands.


    Pulling my journal from my satchel, I flipped to the page with the ghost-banishing spells. Writing them between ordinary notes had turned out to be a terrible idea. Somehow, both spells had ended up crammed on a single page, with notes about the Archmaker on the reverse. Well, the shadow definitely wasn¡¯t the Archmaker.


    I tore the page from the journal and carefully ripped it in half to separate the spell diagrams. Placing the pieces on the floor, I touched them with my fingers and began charging them with ether. At least I was good at this. Especially near a place of power, where I didn¡¯t have to worry about conserving my personal reservoir ¨C it would replenish quickly here.


    Each page had just one rune left to charge when the figure emerged from the wall. Its body was still indistinct, but I immediately noticed the hole in its translucent head.


    ¡°Simon?!¡±


    The spectre froze, turning its head toward me. I felt a tingling under my fingers. The spells had taken their final shapes, sparking with power. They seemed to solidify, but they were on the verge of exploding from the force within. This was the moment Harry had warned me about ¨C when you¡¯re supposed to rip the spell off the page.


    Driven by a sudden impulse, I willed the diagram beneath my right hand into action and yanked it upward. The spell shattered like glass, scattering waves of ether in all directions. For Feron, it was a signal ¨C he lunged for the door.


    Cursing, I grabbed the second page and raced after him.


    The ghost reached the door first, slamming into it and spreading across its surface like a liquid against the barrier Harry had constructed. Symbols and runes I¡¯d never seen before flared to life on the wood. The spirit couldn¡¯t get through, but the ether seeping from every crack and seam quickly mended its body, restoring its usual form and colour.


    I raised the page, ready to strike, aiming the spell at the spectre¡¯s weak point ¨C the gaping hole in its head. But before I could bring it down, the ghost suddenly turned its head 180 degrees, twisting its left arm in the same unnatural motion, all while continuing to claw at the door with its right.


    A phantom hand grabbed my wrist just as the page was mere centimetres from the hole in its head. The grip was so strong I couldn¡¯t even budge my left hand. Instinctively, I swung my right fist at its insolent face, fully aware that my hand would pass straight through it. And, of course, it did.


    With no other options, I activated the spell.


    The page flared with blue-silver light, and it burned the ghost¡¯s face the way morning rays scorch a nestling vampire. Except, where a vampire¡¯s skin would blister, the spectre¡¯s hand and face simply vanished, dissolving into a blue weave of pure ether.


    Simon didn¡¯t make a sound, but my head felt like it was going to split apart from the scream echoing inside it. The ghost recoiled, spreading like a smear across the door, only to peel off, shoot straight through me, and vanish into the wall at the second-floor level.


    Damn it! That¡¯s¡­ I had a rough idea where.


    I dashed upstairs, startling Cap at the side table with the phone, and bolted into the room, kicking the door open. The ghost hung near the ceiling, both hands shoved elbow-deep into what was left of its face. Something was happening to it. Its colour had faded slightly, paled, but there were no patches of pure ether left on its body.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    I poured another generous dose of ether into the spell page I¡¯d grabbed, and Simon felt it.


    The ghost jerked to the side, sharply pulling its hands away from its face. Both its face and hands were still far too transparent, but Feron was recovering ¨C that much was obvious. And I wasn¡¯t even close to finishing recharging the damned spell.


    Simon grinned. I thought he was about to grab my throat again and braced myself to endure it until the spell was ready. But he made a smarter move ¨C he fled again, diving back downstairs.


    Damn it! Straight to the doors radiating ether! If that bastard feeds, he won¡¯t just strangle me later ¨C he¡¯ll shred me into ribbons.


    Run? That wouldn¡¯t help. The spectre wasn¡¯t tethered to the place ¨C it was bound to the killer, and that meant me. I could teleport to the other side of the world, and it wouldn¡¯t make a difference. Though if that option were available, I¡¯d gladly use it to cut him off from his source of sustenance.


    I bolted out of the room and raced back down the stairs.


    Simon was feeding at the door. He repeated his head-turning trick, only this time, his mutilated face was twisted into a smirk of mockery and disdain.


    I glanced quickly at the spell page. It needed a few more seconds to charge. Simon followed my gaze but only smiled wider.


    I quickened my pace, sensing the worst. The ghost twisted his left arm again, aiming to intercept my strike.


    Not this time, you bastard. Not this time!


    I raised the page, feeling the tingling in my fingers, but Simon smirked and suddenly shot upwards, disappearing behind the opposite wall on the second floor this time.


    ¡°Oh, come on!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t keep this up forever. An eternity of chasing him? Out of the question. My stamina isn¡¯t infinite, and ghosts don¡¯t tire. They only lose power ¨C and even that doesn¡¯t happen when there¡¯s a convenient source of ether for them to feed on.


    I bounded up the stairs and gave Cap a brief nod as if to ask, ¡°Well?¡± He shook his head, still chattering into the phone.


    What a life Harry has, I thought. The one time in a hundred years he goes out into the city, and he risks coming back to a house full of corpses. Maybe¡­


    ¡°Get out of the house,¡± I ordered. ¡°Take Knuckles and go to Sunset at the station.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± Cap started to object.


    I waved him off bitterly and darted into the room where Simon had vanished. The ghost was waiting for me. He gave a little wave and floated backwards through the far wall, the one opposite the hall.


    I ran into the corridor and stopped dead in my tracks.


    Liar! There¡¯s nothing there for you!


    I spun back toward the stairs and didn¡¯t bother counting the steps. Instead, I vaulted over the banister and landed directly by the doors to the hall. As it turned out, I was faster than Simon this time.


    The ghost emerged from the wall on the first floor, saw me, and narrowed his eyes in annoyance.


    ¡°Clever little rat,¡± he hissed.


    ¡°Talking about how I tricked you as a kid?¡± I asked, forcing down the first signs of breathlessness. ¡°Or is it the hole in your head?¡± I didn¡¯t care either way. Stalling and annoying him worked in my favour ¨C I¡¯d catch my breath, and he¡¯d waste time fuming.


    It worked. Feron had always been quick to anger, and this time he clenched his etherial teeth so hard that his jawline sharpened, though there hadn¡¯t been any flesh beneath it for a long time.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± he sneered, ¡°how long you last.¡± Then he drifted backwards through the same wall he¡¯d come through, clearly enjoying his new trick.


    I was supposed to follow. Snatching up the page with the other spell from the floor, I began channelling ether into it. Simon could still gather crumbs of ether under the walls while I stood guard near the main breach. I couldn¡¯t let that happen. Every second he was focused on me was a second he wasn¡¯t feeding.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s!¡± Cap stammered in terror.


    I snapped my head up to see Nathan standing frozen at the second-floor landing, just above the doors to the hall, where the wings of the staircase met.


    ¡°Yes! Grab Knuckles and get out!¡±


    Simon must have heard something because his head popped out of the second-floor wall. He looked at me, then at the boy, and his face spread into a satisfied grin.


    ¡°And who¡¯s this frightened little thing?¡±


    Cap¡¯s eyes widened like saucers, but he didn¡¯t run. Instead, he adjusted the jar under his arm, straightened his cap on his head, and, in a voice high-pitched from fear but still proud, declared:


    ¡°A wizard¡¯s apprentice, ectoplasm! I think you¡¯d make a fine couple of vials!¡±


    To say I was stunned would be an understatement. My jaw dropped. I lost my focus completely! The spell on the first page shattered, dissolving into ether. Simon didn¡¯t miss it. He hadn¡¯t seen me pick up the second page, but instead of coming for me, he went for the easier target.


    ¡°Run!¡± I shouted.


    Cap screamed like a pig in a butcher¡¯s grasp, hurled the jar at the ghost, and bolted in whatever direction his eyes happened to be pointing ¨C which, conveniently, was away from Simon, down the corridor.


    Simon didn¡¯t consider the jar a serious threat and didn¡¯t bother altering his trajectory. That is, until it smacked him right in the face. Of course! The jar had restraining seals meant to hold the spark! Had being the key word.


    The impact triggered a flash of light and a crackling burst of etheric discharges, throwing a disoriented Simon into a spiralling trajectory that ended with him vanishing into one of the walls. The jar, meanwhile, did what jars do best ¨C it crashed onto the floor, shattering into large shards of glass.


    ¡°Cap, not that way!¡± I bellowed. ¡°Get to the garage with Knuckles! MOVE!¡±


    I vaulted up the stairs, reaching the landing, ready to fend off the ghost¡¯s next attack. Nathan, meanwhile, had made it to the corner where the corridor turned deeper into the house. He hesitated, looking back at me.


    ¡°That way!¡± I barked, jabbing my finger toward the stairs leading down. ¡°Quickly!¡±


    I added some aggression to my voice, and that did the trick. The lad spun around faster than he¡¯d been running before and dashed down the stairs, through the hall, and toward the kitchen to cut across to the garage. He made it just in time ¨C no sooner had he disappeared than Simon¡¯s snarling face emerged from the wall.


    The second spell was fully charged. I sprang toward the wall and slapped the paper against it. Simon pulled his head back just in time, and the page hit the wall instead. The spell activated involuntarily, and Simon¡¯s pained cry was my reward.


    Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t get to see the results of the spell to compare which had worked better on Feron.


    I rushed into the room the ghost had vanished into, pouring ether into both scraps of spell-covered paper at once ¨C only to realise, to my horror, that I was completely drained. Completely drained.


    Lucky for me, Simon hadn¡¯t noticed.


    The cracks spidering across his face suggested the spells had done some damage. His vision wasn¡¯t impaired this time, but it was clear he wasn¡¯t feeling too great. He¡¯d grown even more transparent, his face frozen in a grimace of pain as the cracks emitted wisps of etheric smoke.


    A loss of energy? That was excellent!


    But Simon wasn¡¯t done. He was trying to gather ether with his hands ¨C and damn it, it was working.


    ¡°Ha!¡± I shouted triumphantly and leapt straight at the ghost, holding the spell page high above my head.


    Simon took the bait. He grabbed another gulp of ether and dove into the floor, spreading out across the parquet like a stain.


    Below us was the hall, and Simon slammed into the defences. He quickly reoriented and phased through the wall. I, however, stayed behind. Simon had just given me an idea.


    I stepped into the etheric breach and started pulling energy into myself. My third eye ached from the sudden influx, tears streaming from my physical ones, but within moments, I was fully recharged. The remaining wisps of smoke were enough to refresh my spells as well.


    The balance of power had just tipped in my favour.


    I peeked into the next room but saw no sign of the ghost. A quick check of two more rooms and a return to the hall yielded nothing either. Simon had changed tactics and slipped away.


    As I debated myself whether to stand guard by the door or run around the house like a madman, a crash sounded from the direction of the kitchen, and Knuckles burst into the hall ¨C naturally, with a Tommy gun in hand.


    ¡°The same one?¡± he asked, clearly referring to the ghost. I nodded.


    ¡°Ghost,¡± I reminded him, gesturing toward the Thompson.


    ¡°Ether rounds in the drum. And if you mean what happened last time, when it grabbed hold¡­¡± Knuckles tapped the forward grip, showing me a carved rune and a tiny reservoir embedded in its centre.


    Well, I¡¯ll be damned. Better prepared than I was. I felt a pang of envy, though it was probably for the best.


    ¡°Harry¡¯s work?¡±


    ¡°Built it myself, following his instructions,¡± Knuckles replied, quickly adding, ¡°He tested it.¡±


    I barely had time to nod before Sparrow raised the barrel and fired a burst into the wall on the second floor, through the balcony. When I looked up, Simon was already gone ¨C just holes in the plaster where he¡¯d been. Pity. After Nathan¡¯s jar, Simon had grown more cautious. I would¡¯ve liked to see how Clint¡¯s rounds tore through his etheric form.


    Simon darted out of a nearby wall and fled into the ceiling. Knuckles fired another burst but missed, and the ghost reappeared from the ceiling ¨C this time behind the shooter.


    ¡°There!¡± I shouted.


    Knuckles spun around, but he didn¡¯t even have time to fire. Simon shot like a bullet toward the floor, vanishing beneath the floorboards, only to pop back up behind Clint and grab his arms, the ones holding the tommy gun. A flash erupted, and Simon recoiled with a curse, raising his etheric stumps, from which smoke billowed.


    I seized the moment, lunging forward and thrusting the spell paper into the hole in his translucent head ¨C the same spell that had ripped his face off earlier. Another flash blew Simon¡¯s head clean off, but his body didn¡¯t disintegrate. Instead, it somehow evaded my follow-up spell, phasing through me to escape.


    ¡°Get down!¡± Knuckles barked.


    I dropped to the floor, and the hall exploded with the roar of automatic fire. Several rounds punched fist-sized holes into the ghost¡¯s form before the headless body gave up and dissolved into smoke. Knuckles, ever thorough, kept shooting until the last wisps were shredded.


    The front doors were suddenly blown off their hinges, and Harry stormed in, his spellbook hovering by his left shoulder and his staff raised like a spear.


    ¡°Right on time,¡± I remarked.


    ¡°What the hell have you lot been doing in here?¡± the wizard demanded sternly.

 Chapter 17

    The usual Anvil residents¡¯ meeting was held, as always, in the kitchen. Knuckles and I were explaining the new collection of holes in the hall¡¯s interior over cups of tea with milk, while Cap was supposed to report on the smashed jar with the ether spark. However, he decided to keep his mouth shut, sitting there frozen like a statue and not drawing attention to himself ¨C not even crunching on a biscuit, or occasionally sipping his tea.


    I told the whole story, and once I finished, I moved on to my grievances.


    ¡°Harry, how is it that Knuckles has a submachine gun warded against ghosts and a full drum of ether rounds? You said you didn¡¯t have time for nonsense!¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t nonsense,¡± Harry objected. ¡°The lad doesn¡¯t have magic, yet he¡¯s constantly dragged into trouble with you. He needs a way to defend himself. Besides, stressful situations push sorcerers to grow. You catch fleeting sensations and end up doing things you couldn¡¯t before.¡±


    ¡°You know, I think I¡¯ve had one of those sensations,¡± I recalled.


    ¡°Oh? And how did it go? What happened?¡±


    I¡¯d been waiting for that question and answered with feeling:


    ¡°Nothing good! I charged the spell, but it shattered the moment I pulled it from the page.¡±


    ¡°Do it again,¡± the wizard demanded.


    ¡°Harry¡­¡±


    ¡°I said, do it again.¡±


    Reluctantly, I pulled one of the spell sheets from the table and started pouring ether into it until my fingers began to tingle. I shot Harry a questioning look, but he just shrugged. Carefully, I tried to pull the spell off the page, and the ether lines shifted aside, revealing the ink beneath, before cracking and scattering.


    ¡°Something like that,¡± I said sourly, though I felt a strange satisfaction in the failure ¨C like I¡¯d just proved something to Harry. Then again¡­ maybe I¡¯d done it on purpose, out of frustration?


    ¡°One more time,¡± I said, this time pushing my emotions aside and focusing completely on the spell. I charged it, pulled¡­ and it broke again. ¡°Shame.¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Harry countered. ¡°I¡¯d say there¡¯s progress. Strange that you missed it.¡±


    ¡°Go on!¡± I said, intrigued.


    ¡°You did pull the spell off the page. It only broke afterwards. Try using less energy so it doesn¡¯t crackle under your fingers.¡±


    ¡°But you told me to do exactly that!¡±


    ¡°I told you to feel it. A light pressure is enough, but you¡¯re overloading it until it bursts from the inside. It¡¯s like steel ¨C the harder it is, the more brittle it becomes. Also, you¡¯re pouring all the energy into one spot. It¡¯s not critical when using a couple of runes or a circle, but in shapes with corners, it creates imbalances in tension.¡±


    ¡°So how do I¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t overthink it. Only trouble comes quickly; good things take years of practice. Just try to use less energy. That should make the spell more elastic.¡±


    ¡°Well, progress is great and all,¡± I said, ¡°but what I really need is a couple of rings enchanted with these spells ¨C long-range ones, not contact-based.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Harry replied flatly.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I forbid it.¡± Harry wagged a finger at me. ¡°As your teacher, I forbid it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to doubt your teaching abilities. Next time, he¡¯ll twist my head clean off, and you¡¯ll be one student short!¡±


    ¡°Master the spell,¡± the wizard said dismissively. Before I could argue again, he turned to Knuckles and pointed at him. ¡°Explain your actions.¡±


    ¡°What, like why I helped?¡± Knuckles asked. ¡°He was trying to snuff Duncan, so I stepped in.¡±


    ¡°Did Nathan relay Duncan¡¯s order to leave?¡±


    ¡°He did,¡± Knuckles admitted, puffing out his cheeks before quickly brightening. ¡°But, see, Duncan¡¯s not my boss, sir!¡± He grinned. ¡°You said so yourself.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Harry conceded. ¡°But you left your brother behind.¡±


    ¡°Harry,¡± I began, but the wizard raised his fist at me, signalling that the boy needed to answer for himself.


    ¡°Well, uh¡­ There was a ruckus in the house. I mean, the sounds of a fight were coming from inside. No one was chasing the kid, and he could¡¯ve left the estate on his own. Meanwhile, Lord Loxlin might¡¯ve needed my help. And you, sir, had ordered me to look after him.¡±


    ¡°So you believe you acted purely out of logic when you ran back into the house?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Knuckles snapped to attention and barked his reply proudly.


    ¡°Lies!¡± Harry shot back. ¡°Think it over and give me the proper answer.¡±


    Knuckles frowned, his brow furrowing.


    ¡°Well, I, uh¡­ got a little scared at first. But then, when I grabbed the gun¡­¡±


    ¡°You felt powerful, confident,¡± Harry prompted, and Knuckles flushed pink with embarrassment.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ yeah, that¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°The next time that happens,¡± Harry said, ¡°use your head.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d still have had to run,¡± Clint objected. ¡°Back to the house. Duncan wouldn¡¯t have managed on his own.¡±


    ¡°You only know that now,¡± Harry countered.


    Knuckles scowled again.


    ¡°Speak up,¡± Harry encouraged him. ¡°I can see you¡¯ve got objections.¡±


    ¡°Just a second.¡± Knuckles took a moment to collect his thoughts, then answered clearly, without a single stammer. ¡°I couldn¡¯t know what was happening inside the house, but I did know it was a ghost, and I had a weapon to fight it. It would¡¯ve been stupid not to use it.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s true!¡± Harry agreed. ¡°But is that what you were thinking about when you rushed to help Duncan?¡±


    Knuckles frowned even deeper, his face practically contorting. He clearly didn¡¯t like this line of questioning.


    ¡°If I¡¯d stopped to think that much, I wouldn¡¯t have moved a muscle until evening!¡± he blurted out, then quickly added, a little nervously, ¡°Sir.¡±


    ¡°Also true,¡± Harry chuckled. ¡°Being able to make quick decisions will serve you well in life, but at least try to consider the most obvious consequences.¡± Then the wizard reached into his pocket, pulled out a wallet, retrieved a ten-pound note, and laid it on the table in front of Knuckles. ¡°A bonus. You earned it.¡±


    His gaze then shifted to Nathan, who shrank back into his chair.


    ¡°So, why did you smash the jar?¡± Harry asked.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Cap mumbled.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for an apology,¡± Harry said gently. ¡°I asked why you did it.¡±


    ¡°I got scared,¡± Nathan admitted.


    ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± Harry replied with a dismissive wave. ¡°I would¡¯ve been scared too.¡± That earned him a doubtful look from the boy, forcing Harry to clarify. ¡°At your age. Well?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± Nathan muttered gloomily.


    ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate!¡± Harry said. ¡°If you¡¯d known, you¡¯d have earned a bonus.¡±


    ¡°But I smashed the jar,¡± Cap protested.


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    ¡°Do you really think a piece of glass matters more to me than an apprentice?¡± Harry waved the thought away. ¡°You acted on instinct, and you acted correctly. The problem is that you didn¡¯t understand what you did. Look: you didn¡¯t have much of a chance against the ghost, so you decided to run.¡±


    ¡°Duncan ordered me to. But I could¡¯ve run with the jar.¡±


    ¡°It would¡¯ve slowed you down,¡± Harry dismissed. ¡°And besides, you didn¡¯t just drop it on the floor ¨C you threw it at the ghost. A week ago, you¡¯d have panicked at the sight of a rat ghost, so this is progress. But you don¡¯t get a bonus this time. Learn to analyse your actions. Let¡¯s leave it at that. Anyone else have business or new tasks to hand out?¡±


    ¡°Harry,¡± I began, ready to cast another line about those rings. But the wizard seemed to know exactly what I was about to ask.


    ¡°Duncan, when are you going to finish that first list of ten spells?¡±


    ¡°Almost done,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°You¡¯re already a week overdue,¡± Harry grumbled, downing the last of his tea in one gulp. ¡°Clean up here and get to it.¡±


    Unbelievable. He doesn¡¯t mind the kid smashing an intricately enchanted piece of glass, but he won¡¯t even give me a simple piece of metal that¡¯s easier to enchant. And he¡¯s way better with metal! Fine, let¡¯s assume the great Harry Smith actually has his reasons for acting this way. Either way, I clearly need to devote a few hours to practising spells ¨C and thinking up some new ones. Time to finally finish that list.


    Harry took Cap with him to hunt ghosts, Knuckles headed off to clean his tommy gun and prepare more ether rounds, and I cleared the table before retreating to my room to sort through the books I¡¯d borrowed from Harry earlier. As usual, my plans for peaceful study didn¡¯t last long: Moody called, promising to arrive in half an hour ¨C with his daughter in tow.


    I set the books aside and began making calls home to figure out the state of my finances and other matters. First, I rang Logan, who was supposed to have raided Grandpa¡¯s safe, but instead, I got Uncle Gordon on the line.


    ¡°Hello, Duncan,¡± Gordon greeted me. ¡°Care to explain why you need money? And that much, at that!¡±


    ¡°If only I knew what kind of sum we¡¯re even talking about,¡± I grumbled. Uncle Gordon could go on for hours about money ¨C its care, its value, its relationship with profit, negotiations, deals, contracts, and every other topic connected to the merchant¡¯s profession.


    ¡°If you mean what grandfather left you, it¡¯s a hundred and twenty-two thousand pounds.¡±


    My jaw practically hit the floor. I was still busy picking it up when Gordon repeated his question. I¡¯d known Grandpa had left me a hefty inheritance, but that much? A working man¡¯s average wage was near twenty pounds a month, and my Cooper cost seven hundred if you were talking about a brand-new one. But, as Moody had said, urban real estate wasn¡¯t like farmland. Even farmers preferred not to sell their land, leasing it out instead. And in the city, a single plot for construction could cost ten times as much as a full acre in the countryside.


    ¡°Duncan, are you there?¡±


    Gordon blew into the receiver twice, leaving my ear ringing but snapping me out of my daze. That kind of money was unheard of by current standards, but if I kept spending the way I was now, I¡¯d¡­ I¡¯d burn through it all. And I still had clan debts to pay off, not to mention leaving something behind for my kids. If I ever had any, that is.


    ¡°Duncan!¡± Gordon barked.


    ¡°Sorry, Uncle, I¡¯m here. Look, here¡¯s the situation¡­¡± I told him everything I¡¯d come up with.


    ¡°Damn it, Duncan!¡± Gordon growled. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you consult me earlier?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this scheme going to be profitable?¡±


    ¡°Profitable? Hell, yes, it will be! You should¡¯ve started this right away! Bloody hell, when¡¯s your meeting with the solicitor? I¡­ I can¡¯t leave right now!¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ well, you wouldn¡¯t make it anyway. It¡¯s in twenty minutes.¡±


    ¡°God, no one in this family knows the value of money!¡± Gordon exploded. ¡°Alright, here¡¯s how it¡¯s going to work: you do not negotiate the rate per acre! I doubt the plots even add up to an acre. Negotiate per square yard instead. Now, first, you settle on the rate, then the budget. Absolutely not the other way around! Ask them to name their price. Say, ¡®How much do you want?¡¯¡± He paused, then cursed again. ¡°If you¡¯d told me sooner, I¡¯d have a better idea of the numbers! Fine. Start low. One pence per ten square yard. You can go up to one per one if neded, but a pence per two yards is your target. If they push back, tell them they¡¯ll still make money from the paperwork alone. And offer them a bonus. The bonus is essential because no one busts their arse for just a salary. But the bonus should work in our favour ¨C it should be tied to savings. Take the lowest price they offer, then add ten percent of the savings as their bonus. Got it?¡±


    ¡°Not quite. How am I supposed to withdraw money without being in Avoc?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the money, don¡¯t worry about that. The budget will be a quarter million, but in return, I get half of the land you buy up.¡±


    ¡°Deal,¡± I agreed immediately.


    ¡°God, at least pretend to haggle!¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t cheat your own nephew.¡±


    ¡°Now that¡¯s the right pressure point, well done. Once you settle on the price with the lady, give her my number. I¡¯ll handle the fine details. Tell her to call me around seven. And you ¨C report back to me before then so I know what I¡¯m working with.¡±


    Gordon grumbled a bit more, alternating between scolding me and offering useful advice, before hanging up.


    I put the kettle on and headed toward the hall, intending to knock on the door, but Harry stepped out first. The wizard looked pleased with himself, and Cap practically glowed.


    ¡°What¡¯s got you so cheerful?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I caught a ghost!¡± Nathan declared proudly. ¡°And I banished it! And I even collected ectoplasm!¡±


    I ¡°put on a face¡± and politely nodded, acknowledging my fellow apprentice¡¯s accomplishment, though my gaze slid toward the shiny new ring with a large amethyst on the boy¡¯s finger. Really, Harry?


    ¡°Well done. Moody¡¯s stopping by soon. I¡¯ve put the kettle on ¨C could you brew the tea? Harry and I need to discuss a few things.¡±


    The kid bolted to the kitchen, and we followed him with our eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be joking,¡± I said to my teacher.


    ¡°He¡¯s a child; he gets a pass,¡± Harry replied, clearly understanding my frustration. ¡°But you ¨C stop relying on crutches.¡±


    We greeted Harold in the same sitting room as before. The solicitor had brought an entire briefcase full of papers, and so had his daughter ¨C though her briefcase was a bright red one. Moody introduced her as Sophia Potts and insisted I deal with the land matter as quickly as possible. As he put it, that would only make sense if I had at least a couple dozen thousand to spend.


    I promptly assured him I did and proceeded to follow my uncle¡¯s advice.


    "Given that the plots not owned by the duke or the mayor are scattered across the slums in tiny fragments, I think it would make more sense to set the price per square yard rather than per acre. I doubt there are many acres to be had."


    ¡°There is, actually,¡± Sophia corrected, flipping through her papers. ¡°A little more than a thousand.¡±


    ¡°Where did that much come from?¡± I asked, surprised.


    ¡°Some of the land is only nominally owned by the city. For example, heirs haven¡¯t claimed it after the owner¡¯s death, or take this curious case: a bank seized some land for debt repayment, then sold it to the city at an inflated price. There are some questionable transactions here, and if you pull the right strings, you could secure these plots too.¡±


    ¡°I like your approach, Mrs. Potts.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. But as I understand it, we only have enough money for a couple of plots, and you prefer the cheapest ones.¡±


    ¡°Not quite,¡± I said. ¡°How much do you want?¡±


    "A thousand pounds would be enough for everything," Sophia joked. "Here are the recent sale prices in Smuggler¡¯s Bay. I wouldn¡¯t recommend relying on them, though ¨C the price drops sharply as you get closer to the slums, and beyond a certain point, land doesn¡¯t sell at all. Even so, no one has sold for less than¡­ Per yard, it¡¯s¡­ three pence. No one has sold for less than three pence. I also looked into land in the City ¨C there, it goes for more than four thousand per acre. A pound per yard."


    "And did you check Rapsy, for instance?" I asked. "This land will never get anywhere close to the City¡¯s prices."


    "No, but in Deep, it¡¯s two hundred," Sophia replied.


    I had no idea where Deep was. Probably one of the outskirts. But even so, the profit promised to be astronomical. I quickly ran some calculations in my head and realized I had more than enough money, though my uncle had brazenly claimed half the profit for himself.


    Alright, to be fair, I wouldn¡¯t have gotten my hands on that money so quickly without him.


    "You¡¯ll get a thousand," I said, noting the spark that lit up in Sophia¡¯s eyes. "We¡¯ll settle at a penny per ten square yards."


    "I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s an error in your calculations," Harold interjected. He meant that it would amount to more at that rate."


    "There isn¡¯t," I replied. "I¡¯m going to buy everything; you can have a fair share. By the way, if the price comes in lower than the stated minimum, you¡¯ll get a bonus ¨C say, ten percent of the savings. But you¡¯ll need to discuss that with my uncle since he¡¯s financing everything."


    I wrote Gordon¡¯s number on a sheet of paper listing the plots and handed it to Sophia.


    "Do these terms work for you?"


    Sophia hesitated, unsure of what to say, and threw a questioning glance at her father, who conspicuously ignored it.


    ¡°And if the price is higher?¡± she asked. ¡°What if the owner digs in their heels?¡±


    ¡°Work with those willing to sell first. We¡¯ll deal with the stubborn ones last. And try to keep things quiet ¨C don¡¯t stir up unnecessary attention. My uncle will brief you on the details. Call him after seven tonight.¡±


    We wrapped up with Sophia quickly; Moody immediately sent her back to the office, and we moved on to the main agenda. The solicitor opened his briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers. He handed two of them to us.


    ¡°This is all I was able to find out about our Cavalier,¡± Harold said. ¡°It¡¯s not much, but the official information paints him as a man of honour with an impeccable reputation. If this goes to court, he¡¯ll have the upper hand.¡±


    ¡°And is there a chance it might not go to court?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Young man, you seem unfamiliar with our judicial system,¡± Harold replied with a faint smile. ¡°Take it from an old solicitor ¨C more than half of all cases never reach trial.¡±


    I nodded, still unsure where he was going with this. Then Harold handed each of us a sheet with another name: Lucius Joseph Asquith.


    ¡°Director of an orphanage, member of the city council, philanthropist, benefactor,¡± I read aloud. ¡°Are you suggesting we negotiate with him?¡±


    ¡°Asquith has a certain reputation. Those who need to know are well aware that he¡¯s made a tidy profit from that orphanage. And along with him, so have certain other members of the city council. He¡¯s a man who knows how to make deals. From what I¡¯ve learned, the recent audit didn¡¯t uncover anything illegal in the orphanage¡¯s paperwork. Moreover, the Sparrow brothers¡¯ funds were frozen immediately after their escape. The orphanage knew about the audit long before the directive was issued.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ unexpected,¡± I remarked.


    ¡°On the contrary, young man, it¡¯s very much to be expected,¡± Harold countered. ¡°And to answer your earlier question ¨C yes, the Fairburns have already come to an arrangement with him. The odds are not in our favour, which is why I must ask: have you considered the possibility of reconciliation with the Fairburn family?¡±

 Chapter 18

    I thought Harry would kill him. Right then and there, smash him into the ground. Peace with the Fairburns ¨C who could even come up with such an idea? But Moody¡¯s expression was unshakeable, and Harry displayed an unexpected restraint, limiting himself to a curt:


    ¡°Bloody hell, no!¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯re left with escalation. We¡¯ll have to play dirty. I¡¯ve already had to spend two hundred pounds on spies. And don¡¯t look at me like that ¨C it¡¯s not cheap, but it gets results! I¡¯ve identified someone who can confirm the use of compulsion on the children: Professor Madigan. A blood sorcerer, an inventor, and artificer. He teaches medicine at Farnell¡¯s Royal College. He¡¯s been collaborating with the Fairburn family for ages. They buy reservoirs from him and make healing amulets based on his designs. Of course, the Fairburns will have other specialists at their disposal, but Madigan is the most prominent, and he¡¯ll be the easiest to target.¡±


    ¡°How do you plan to do that?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a bribe-taker. We could start with a smear piece in the papers, but I¡¯d go further and fund a full-fledged enrolment for a student applicant. Fortunately, entrance exams are coming up soon. I reckon it¡¯ll cost another three or four hundred pounds altogether."


    ¡°Do it,¡± said Harry without so much as a wince at the price, and I had to agree with him.


    Moody nodded and moved on to the next item.


    ¡°Thanks to the Earl of Bremor, we¡¯ve found someone who could replace the professor. Dr Oliver Sugar, a baronet. A well-known and rather scandalous figure.¡±


    ¡°I know him,¡± Harry muttered. ¡°And he¡¯s quite an unpleasant character. A wizard who specialises in illusions. He got his baronetcy for them, by the way.¡±


    ¡°For illusions?¡± I asked, surprised.


    ¡°These illusions can quite literally rip your legs off. Something secret for the Crown.¡±


    ¡°And the baronet is rather strapped for cash after yet another divorce. If he also keeps losing publicly at cards in Farnell, I¡¯d bet the Fairburns wouldn¡¯t hesitate to hire a man of his talents.¡±


    ¡°Wait ¨C will he be working for us or for them?¡±


    ¡°Lord Bremor assures us it¡¯ll be for us, but the Fairburns won¡¯t know that.¡±


    ¡°I like it!¡±


    A beam of light shimmered on the horizon through the clouds.


    ¡°By the way, thank you for Simon,¡± Harold said. ¡°Your investigation has cleared most of the suspicion from him.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t overdo it,¡± Harry waved him off. ¡°If we¡¯d found even the slightest clue, your client wouldn¡¯t have left the cell.¡±


    ¡°Still, thank you.¡±


    We saw Harold to the door, and as it closed behind him, I asked:


    ¡°What do you think ¨C do you reckon Moody¡¯s weaving intrigues for Kettle as well? Against us?¡±


    Harry pondered for a moment, tugging at his beard.


    ¡°I¡¯m absolutely sure of it. And he¡¯ll present the bill at the worst possible moment.¡±


    ¡°He promised he wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t trust lawyers!¡± Harry declared and strode off to his study to tinker with the formulas from the arch.


    All in all, the evening turned out to be calm and even somewhat productive. I finally felt like I was making progress with studying the spells, and thanks to Harry¡¯s advice, I even learned to hold them suspended in the air for more than two seconds. Eventually, I managed to lift a spell off the sheet, though I couldn¡¯t move it. Removing the sheet from beneath the spell after I¡¯d grabbed it was easy enough, but shifting the schematic a few millimetres left or right was beyond me. The clarity of the lines would disintegrate, the runes would distort, and the spell would dissolve into raw ethereal smoke.


    I became so fixated on simplifying the process that I ended up drawing a simple circle on a sheet and trying to manipulate that. Perhaps I could have made some real progress ¨C I was fully immersed in training. My mood couldn¡¯t have been better, but then Sunset called.


    He said the bloodsuckers and Boladji were being released. On direct orders from the Chief Constable himself.


    My mood sank. So much for training.


    In the morning, after breakfast, Harry presented me with a pair of narrow boxes.


    ¡°What are these for?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Every time Simon shows up, the first thing he does is try to grab more power before attacking you. I¡¯ve solved that problem inside the house, but outside¡­¡± Harry gestured at the boxes. ¡°You¡¯re always lugging around loads of reservoirs. So I shielded the box.¡±


    ¡°And how did you fix it inside the house?¡±


    ¡°Created a sort of lightning rod. Tweaked the configuration of the hall¡¯s wards a bit. I¡¯d left the old intrusion protection out of habit, but it¡¯s not really relevant anymore. Back in the day, the Fairburns could have tried to destabilise the magical flows to drown us in death energy. But after the stabilisation, that won¡¯t work anymore. You said the ghost couldn¡¯t get inside, right? Well, now the hall will suck him in and break him down into ectoplasm. The seal is autonomous, so no more rat-hunting required. It¡¯ll do as a temporary measure.¡±


    ¡°Why only temporary?¡±


    ¡°Because it doesn¡¯t care what it¡¯s breaking down, and I¡¯d rather not have spirits turned into ectoplasm. You lot out in the woods are barbaric enough, shooting down earth elementals for sport. Me, I¡¯d put them to work.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine, don¡¯t get all worked up. Thanks for this. Maybe you could make me a ring too?¡±


    ¡°No! Where¡¯s the spell list?¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine, no ring,¡± I gave up instantly.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the list?¡±


    I was saved from having to answer by the sound of the phone ringing. It was Baronet Kettle inviting me over.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± I asked Harry, immediately adding my own opinion. ¡°I think I have to go.¡±


    Harry scowled, tugged at his beard in irritation, and pulled a ring from his pocket.


    ¡°Here.¡±


    ¡°This¡­ this is definitely a combat amulet against ghosts! You¡¯re a saint, Harry,¡± I said, brightening up.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get too excited. When you get home, you¡¯ll hand it back.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯ve set a trap,¡± I reminded him.


    ¡°It¡¯ll catch the small fry,¡± Harry agreed.


    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®small fry¡¯? What about Simon?¡±


    ¡°During the day, he¡¯s no stronger than a small fry.¡±


    ¡°And at night?¡±


    The wizard smirked into his beard and turned to leave.


    ¡°Harry, what about at night?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll give you some motivation to learn the spells.¡±


    ¡°Harry!¡±


    ¡°Take Knuckles with you,¡± my mentor advised as he walked off.


    I approached the baronet¡¯s house alone. Knuckles stayed in the car, where he¡¯d left his tommy gun alongside a couple of spare cartridges on the seat next to him.


    Kettle himself opened the door, ignoring the disgruntled butler standing stiffly by his side. The baronet looked refreshed ¨C his nose had been straightened, the bruises under his eyes were gone. And, oddly enough, he seemed genuinely glad to see me.


    ¡°Duncan!¡± he exclaimed cheerfully. ¡°Come in!¡±


    I was grabbed by the shoulder, pulled into the house, and given a nudge forward to direct me along. Kettle acted like an old friend with no concept of personal boundaries.


    ¡°Excuse me, sir¡­¡± I began, objecting to such familiarity.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be like that,¡± Kettle waved dismissively. ¡°Carver, we¡¯ll be in the barn,¡± he called out to the butler, continuing to steer me toward our destination. Irritated, I shrugged his hand off my shoulder.


    ¡°Perhaps you¡¯d care to explain what¡¯s going on, sir?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t like me,¡± Kettle laughed, clapping me on the shoulder. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll explain everything.¡±


    This time, he didn¡¯t touch me, walking ahead instead. We exited onto the back courtyard, passed a short orchard of two rows of young apple trees, and entered what looked like a storage shed. Though, in truth, it only resembled a shed from the outside.


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    Inside, it was a proper gymnasium. To the right of the entrance hung a punching bag; to the left were racks of kettlebells and barbells. In the far corners were gymnastic apparatuses, racks of melee weapons, and training dummies. At the centre of the room, between four thick wooden pillars, was something resembling a boxing ring.


    What¡¯s more, the ¡®barn¡¯ had a second level ¨C a balcony lining the interior walls. It held several couches, tables, and chairs, but the main feature was the rows of shelves and racks filled with ranged weaponry: bows, staves, rods, rifles, and everything in between.


    Opposite the balcony, mounted on the far wall, were targets. A clever system of belts and pulleys allowed them to be moved closer or further away.


    ¡°How do you like it?¡± Kettle asked, gesturing broadly around the room. For the first time, I noticed that, despite his reputation as a layabout, he had a good build ¨C no excess weight ¨C and moved with surprising ease.


    I tilted my head as though taking in the room, unbuttoning my jacket to make it easier to reach my pistol, and reached mentally for the protective rings on my hand.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect this,¡± I admitted honestly.


    ¡°No one ever does.¡±


    ¡°Then why reveal your secrets?¡±


    Kettle waggled a finger at me ambiguously before rummaging through a cabinet containing firearms. I tensed, ready to activate stone skin the moment he made a sudden move. Instead, Kettle pulled out a polished black box and placed it on the small table beside us.


    ¡°Open it,¡± he said, turning it towards me.


    I hesitated, extending my senses towards the object. Outwardly, the box looked ordinary, but inside, it brimmed with death, fire, ice, ether, water, sand, air, and steel.


    ¡°Better you do it,¡± I said, not daring to touch it.


    Kettle sighed and quickly flipped the lid open. On the red velvet lining lay a blackened revolver, gleaming with a sinister matte finish. It was an exact replica of the one left behind by Simon Feron. I couldn¡¯t hold back ¨C stepping sharply back, I drew my pistol and aimed it directly at the baronet¡¯s head.


    ¡°What the bloody hell is this?¡± he shouted, raising his hands in surprise.


    ¡°It¡¯s a gift, you lunatic!¡±


    ¡°Where did you¡­¡± I swallowed the end of my question, unsure myself what I even wanted to ask. My mind immediately linked the revolver to Feron, but it could just as easily have been a coincidence.


    ¡°I bought it two years ago. Thought I¡¯d take up shooting seriously, but it¡¯s clearly not my thing. It¡¯s a good weapon; it¡¯s just sitting there going to waste.¡±


    This weapon wasn¡¯t just ¡°good.¡± Looking closer, I could see it bore far more enchantments than Simon¡¯s revolver ever did. And the accompanying bullets? They must have cost nearly twenty pounds apiece ¡ª perhaps a little less, as the enchantments on them seemed somewhat drained.


    ¡°And why the generous gift?¡±


    ¡°You saved my life! I might not be the epitome of honour, but I do know what gratitude means.¡±


    I lowered the barrel and looked into Kettle¡¯s startled eyes. Was he being sincere, or was this all an act? The baronet lowered his hands as well but didn¡¯t move until I returned my pistol to its holster.


    ¡°Last time,¡± I said coolly, ¡°someone tried to kill me with a gun just like that one.¡±


    ¡°Well, sorry! How was I supposed to know?¡±


    ¡°Is that all? You called me here just for this?¡± I asked calmly.


    ¡°No, of course not! I was also planning to confess my love,¡± Kettle snapped, his irritation boiling over.


    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary, sir,¡± I said, simply to say something.


    ¡°You know, you¡¯re just a bloody snob! I thought you were an idealist, but no! You¡¯re just like all the other sons of rich, titled fathers, except you flaunt your principles instead of your money or status, you self-righteous prig.¡±


    ¡°An interesting way to thank someone who saved your life,¡± I replied, striving to keep my tone even. But I couldn¡¯t help it¡ªit struck a nerve.


    ¡°Get¡­ out,¡± Kettle hissed, sparks practically flying from his eyes.


    Damn. Word by word, he was working himself up into the same state he had in the club when he¡¯d insulted Boladji.


    ¡°Remind you of anything?¡± I asked, playing the role of the icy statue while something inside me was starting to burn.


    ¡°What?¡± The baronet frowned.


    ¡°The club. When you insulted the Maasai.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re comparing yourself to him? You¡¯re not just a snob¡ªyou¡¯ve got an overinflated sense of self, boy!¡±


    His casual familiarity and unbearable idiocy were starting to grate on me.


    ¡°I¡¯m talking about how easily you create conflicts out of thin air.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you want a conflict? Come on then¡ªstep into the ring.¡±


    Kettle vaulted over the balcony railing with a showy leap, landing effortlessly beside the ring. He climbed through the ropes, turned to face me, and spread his arms wide.


    ¡°Come on. I barely ever use it. It¡¯s rare to convince someone to spar with me.¡±


    If he honed his elemental skills on the mat, it would explain his limited techniques. Sure, in the ring, it¡¯s enough to hit harder by channelling an element into your fist, but that¡¯s no use in a real fight. And it already hadn¡¯t helped him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to,¡± I said, descending the stairs.


    ¡°Ooooh, the fearsome Lord Loxlin is scared?¡±


    ¡°Sir, in the ring, you¡¯d easily best me. But in a real fight, you wouldn¡¯t get within a few metres.¡±


    Simon darted toward me suddenly, leaping over the ropes. I didn¡¯t even bother drawing my pistol¡ªjust swung my hand and raised a shield from the ring on my finger. Kettle ran straight into it, full speed, smashing his face against it. His nose burst open as he recoiled, falling onto his backside.


    ¡°All the best to you, sir,¡± I said, before the furious young man got any ideas about using the arsenal from the balcony on me. I turned and headed for the door.


    I really need a spell for watching my back¡ªsomething to keep an eye on enemies without turning around. Judging by the sound, Kettle had gotten up again. Damn it. Quick footsteps echoed behind me. I veered to the side, spun sharply, and raised my shield just in time.


    But Kettle didn¡¯t charge into me. Instead, he dropped to the floor, reached out, and fired a lightning bolt. A thick bundle of searing tendrils tore across the floor, leaving scorched trails in its wake. Most fizzled out with a loud crack in the air, but a couple reached my leg, slicing through my trouser fabric and embedding themselves in my calf like needles.


    None of my protective amulets activated¡ªexcept the cufflinks, which began to heal the wound only after the damage was done.


    A spasm seized my leg as I jerked it back. I lost my balance. Kettle, like a snake, twisted himself upright and kicked me in the other leg. I managed to activate stone skin just in time, so it didn¡¯t hurt, but it didn¡¯t save me from falling.


    The baronet didn¡¯t even bother to stand up. He grabbed my leg, and that¡¯s when I realised¡ªstone skin was a terrible defence against lightning.


    The world jolted as if it were Doomsday, and my body felt like it had been tossed straight into hell. Pain mixed with blinding flashes of light and sound. The world flared like a sunburst, and I screamed.


    Kettle said something angrily. The white-hot brightness dimmed just enough for me to make out a blurry figure above me.


    ¡°... weakling¡­¡± Simon said. Something banged loudly, distracting him.


    And then, before he could react, a large shadow struck his head. With a heavy thud, the baronet collapsed beside me. A red-clad figure leaned over me instead.


    ¡°Hello, Duncan,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve developed quite the bad habit, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Kate,¡± I groaned, realising how far I¡¯d sunk¡ªI was actually glad to see a vampire.


    ¡°Get up,¡± she said, extending a hand to me.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Gratefully, I took her hand, blinking away the haze and looking at the unconscious baronet, who was now being tied up by Kate¡¯s girls. Alive, thankfully.


    ¡°What did you use on him?¡±


    Kate nudged a small leather ball with the pointed toe of her red shoe, flipping it into the air and catching it with her hand.


    ¡°Sand,¡± she said, tossing it to me. ¡°Guaranteed knockout.¡±


    I weighed the soft core in my hand. Just a bit denser, and it would¡¯ve crushed the baronet¡¯s skull.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you showed up, though Sunset won¡¯t be pleased.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t need to know,¡± Kate pouted.


    ¡°He does,¡± I corrected her. ¡°Wait! What were you planning to do?¡±


    ¡°Just get some answers,¡± the vampire batted her eyelashes innocently.


    I glanced at Kettle¡¯s limp body. Sure, he was an unstable bastard, but Kate¡­ Vampires, in their thirst for answers, would push all the way to the bitter end without hesitation. I didn¡¯t want another stain on my conscience.


    If the Lindemanns kill him, I¡¯ll be an accomplice¡ªand, damn it, I¡¯ll either have to keep silent or lie about what happened. Because I have no intention of ending up in a penal colony. And honestly, I wasn¡¯t even sure Kettle was guilty. Feron? Him, I could¡¯ve killed without trial or investigation.


    But this Simon? He was different.


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Let John handle him.¡± That way, I¡¯ll do something nice for Sunset and keep Moody happy. Almost forgot about the latter¡ªsomehow I think the death of an old client wouldn¡¯t improve our relationship.


    ¡°Duncan, my darling boy,¡± Kate said, her lips black as night. A shadowy puff escaped her mouth, twisting through the air toward me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t even try,¡± I said, waving her off.


    ¡°Do you think you¡¯ve solved the problem?¡± she asked, her lips now tinged crimson.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    Kate laughed, giving my shoulder a patronising pat. Then she jabbed her finger against my chest, tracing a path down to where my amulet was hidden under my shirt. I jerked back, but her nails¡ªno, claws¡ªshot out from beneath her manicured fingers. She was faster.


    The claws tore through the fabric, slicing the skin beneath. The amulet ended up in her hand, and with a merciless tug, she yanked it away. The fabric ripped, blood splattered, and the sturdy cord dug painfully into my neck before snapping.


    ¡°Go home, Duncan!¡± Kate commanded.


    The world darkened in my mind. A heavy buzzing noise filled my ears, like the effect of too much whisky, and soon my thoughts condensed into one singular ¡®drivehome.¡¯


    I left the barn and walked through the house. The butler, stunned, asked me something, trying to stop me, but I silenced him with a punch to the teeth. He backed off. The car. A surprised Knuckles. The door. The back seat.


    ¡°Home.¡±


    ¡°What the hell¡­?¡±


    ¡°Home!¡±


    ¡°Duncan, what the¡­ bloody hell is going on?¡±


    ¡°I need to go home!¡± When I realised Knuckles wasn¡¯t moving fast enough, I started climbing over into the front seat.


    ¡°All right, all right¡ªsit down!¡±


    Knuckles shoved me back by the forehead, and I collapsed onto the back seat. I immediately scrambled back up and tried to climb forward again, swatting at Knuckles¡¯ hand as it tried to push me back.


    ¡°All right, we¡¯re going, we¡¯re going, dammit!¡±


    The car finally started moving, and I allowed myself to be shoved back onto the seat again. The road blurred in my mind. Home. Home. Drivehome.


    The blood drained from my head, my vision began to clear, the drumming in my ears quieted, and my thoughts slowly sharpened.


    ¡°Kate,¡± I muttered, pushing through the splitting headache that struck the moment I tried to focus on anything other than going home.


    ¡°She did this to you?¡± Knuckles asked.


    ¡°She did. Compul¡­shhhhh¡­¡± The pain in my head exploded.


    ¡°Compulsion. Got it.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll kill Kettle!¡± I blurted out. ¡°Phone. Sunset.¡±


    ¡°You sure you can handle this?¡±


    ¡°Phone,¡± I repeated, barely able to speak.


    Knuckles pulled over at the nearest phone booth and jumped out of the car. Meanwhile, I collapsed into another fit of convulsions.


    It was getting easier, though. The pain wasn¡¯t as sharp, but it hadn¡¯t stopped tormenting me. Drivehome still pounded in my ears like a relentless drumbeat. I couldn¡¯t take it anymore. I climbed into the front seat and slammed my foot down on the accelerator.


    ¡°Duncan!¡± Knuckles shouted.


    ¡°Sunset!¡± I shouted back, the words escaping me in a surge of relief as the overwhelming compulsion started to lift.

 Chapter 19

    By the time I reached The Anvil, I felt clear-headed enough for the compulsion to nearly vanish from my mind. I could finally think straight. Logic told me that no compulsion could last forever, but the power of a master vampire was not to be underestimated. Better to drive the remaining hundred metres than to try turning back and risk collapsing from the pain. Only now did it dawn on me: I¡¯d become so attached to these ruins that I truly considered them home. And good thing, too! The last thing I needed was to haul myself all the way to Avoc¡ªacross four counties¡ªin torn and bloodied clothes.


    Knuckles, what a clever lad! Knows how to think when it matters. He¡¯d even had the sense to warn Harry. The wizard was waiting for me at the gates with a fresh shirt and jacket. Hovering above his right shoulder, three multi-element spell constructs burned brightly in the air. The main color was green¡ªblood! Oh, what a fool I am! Drawing blood from the reservoirs¡­ No it wouldn¡¯t have helped anyway. The cufflinks were drained. Ether and earth were still holding on, but all the blood was gone. Maybe it was thanks to that last bit of blood that I¡¯d been able to give Knuckles the order to drive me here.


    I stopped the car and felt a wave of irritation rise inside me. The command Kate had planted was still pulling me forward, urging me into the building, but I had just enough strength to resist. I opened the door and stepped out.


    Harry flicked his fingers, and one of the glowing multi-ray stars¡ªwoven from ether and blood¡ªcompressed into a blinding spark as bright as the sun and shot straight into my third eye. The world wobbled and exploded with light. I grabbed onto the Cooper¡¯s door just in time to stop myself from collapsing onto my arse.


    The dazzling light vanished in an instant, as though it had never been there, and a perfect stillness settled in my mind.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said to Harry. ¡°And what about the others?¡± I gestured at the two remaining spells.


    ¡°We¡¯re heading back. They¡¯re for healing and temporary protection.¡±


    The diamond-shaped spell, a construct of earth, water, and blood, slammed into my chest, forcing a growl of pain from my throat. The wound on my chest began to close before my eyes, but the sensation was as if my skin were being torn apart all over again.


    The second spell, a series of rings covered in glowing runes, hovered above me before plunging downwards, wrapping my body in a thin film of invisible protection. Or invisible to most, anyway. My magical vision distorted the colour into shades of blue.


    ¡°Get in the back seat and change,¡± Harry ordered, handing me the clothes.


    ¡°You¡¯re driving? Maybe I¡¯ll change after we get there?¡± Harry was a terrible driver, though he¡¯d never admit it. In his eyes, with his years of experience, Knuckles and I¡ªjust a couple of snot-nosed kids¡ªcouldn¡¯t possibly be better than him. And while his coordination wasn¡¯t an issue, he simply didn¡¯t have enough practice behind the wheel, always claiming he didn¡¯t have the time.


    ¡°Get in the back!¡± Harry barked.


    Thankfully, he didn¡¯t plan on driving the whole way. As soon as we picked up Knuckles, he moved to the passenger seat. In the meantime, I managed to wipe the blood and scabs off my chest with my torn shirt and replaced it with the fresh one. I reattached the cufflinks and charged them with blood from a reservoir in my satchel. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t have time to recharge the stone skin ring¡ªwe¡¯d arrived.


    The scene outside the baronet¡¯s house was bustling. Half a dozen constables stood in a perimeter, a police truck with the royal insignia parked nearby, along with four unmarked cars. No coroner¡¯s van or ambulance in sight. Excellent.


    Harry was the first to jump out of the car. I followed, tugging my jacket into place. The sight of my pistol in its shoulder holster caused a bit of tension among the constables.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± said the sergeant, stepping forward, ¡°you¡¯re not allowed past this point.¡±


    The number five on his lapel marked him as part of the local station, which meant negotiating would be difficult. But before I could reply, a petite woman in civilian clothes standing by the porch called out:


    ¡°Sarge, let them through.¡±


    The sergeant grumbled something unpleasant and stepped aside. I recognised the woman¡ªshe was part of the special unit. Last time I¡¯d seen her, she¡¯d been wearing a protective vest and dosing victims with potions.


    ¡°Madam,¡± I greeted her politely.


    ¡°Sir Harry. Lord Duncan,¡± she replied. ¡°Wait here. I¡¯ll notify the detective.¡±


    She turned to go inside, but the roar of engines cut through the air, and two black roadsters screeched to a halt at the perimeter, tyres squealing. The woman clicked her tongue in annoyance and opened the front door.


    ¡°All right, boys, let¡¯s get to work!¡±


    From inside came the sound of shouting, with at least one voice belonging to the younger Kilworth brother. He was also the first to step out.


    ¡°Who the hell else has shown up?¡± barked Roger, the elder Kilworth, as he threw the door open. This time, the badger shifter was wearing a PSS vest, bristling with enchantments and carrying two combat rods. He spotted me instantly. ¡°Duncan, are you causing trouble?¡±


    ¡°Hello, Roger,¡± I said, gesturing towards the roadsters, from which three men in expensive suits and a woman in a wide-brimmed hat were climbing out.


    ¡°I was starting to think they wouldn¡¯t show up!¡± Roger said gleefully. ¡°What do you think, Yan? A good day after all!¡±


    Yan Kilworth didn¡¯t share his brother¡¯s enthusiasm. And I understood why. Four ragged claw marks ran across his face, stitched up with fresh sutures.


    Roger stepped out of the doorway, letting his brother pass, followed by two unfamiliar fighters. One was a sharp-featured man armed with sabres, while the other was a stocky figure hefting a Browning machine gun. Judging by the molten glow in its magazine, he was ready to turn this meeting into a fiery one.


    The old sergeant stepped in the path of the woman in the hat. He didn¡¯t flinch, but she, her eyes blazing red, charged forward like a bull seeing a red cloth, growling, ¡°Out of my way!¡± before flinging him aside with ease.


    A thin thread of fire shot out from Roger¡¯s rod. Had it not been for her enhanced reflexes, the vampire woman would¡¯ve been left with a hole in her head. Instead, her hat flew off, catching fire as it hit the ground.


    ¡°Assaulting a police officer in the line of duty!¡± Roger commented with smug satisfaction. ¡°You never learn, do you? We can arrest all of you, or just you. Your choice.¡±


    ¡°What about Simon? If that bitch laid so much as a finger on him¡ª¡±


    Roger¡¯s grin turned nasty as he interrupted her.


    ¡°Oh, she had a fine bit of fun with him!¡±


    Bloody hell, why did he have to say that?


    I raised my left hand, the one with the shield ring. Harry, too, started tracing patterns in the air. Even though I couldn¡¯t see anything in the subtle layers of magic, I was certain he was preparing a spell.


    ¡°Now be a good little girl,¡± Roger continued, ¡°and put your hands out for the cuffs.¡±


    ¡°Forgot who you¡¯re talking to, mutt?¡± Nina snapped.


    ¡°Remember how I knocked you flat in the club?¡±


    The vampire couldn¡¯t hold back any longer. She shrieked, and waves of death and air magic, tinged with sickly hues, erupted from her lips. A crushing fatigue hit me, as though I¡¯d spent a full day unloading freight cars without a break, but it passed the moment Harry placed his hand on my shoulder.


    I drew my pistol, but a voice as clear as day rang out in my head: ¡°Don¡¯t you dare!¡± It was Harry¡¯s voice, and I could swear no one else heard it.


    The man with the machine gun opened fire. The BAR spat out five dark red fireballs, aimed directly at the vampires. Yan fired a shot from his sawed-off, Roger unleashed a beam from his rod, and even the sharp-featured man swung his sabres, releasing arcs of sand-charged crescents.


    But the combined assault slammed against an invisible steel-tinged barrier set up by two male vampires, shielding their group. One of them casually pulled a grenade from his pocket, leapt up, and hurled it over the shield. The throw was so powerful and precise it might as well have been fired from a cannon.


    Roger tried to intercept it mid-air with a beam from his staff. He missed the grenade but sliced the vampire¡¯s hand clean off. The grenade barely missed us, exploding half a metre short in a plume of dense fog, so thick even subtle magic couldn¡¯t penetrate it.


    ¡°Fog!¡± I said to Harry.


    The wizard muttered something under his breath, and the veil became semi-transparent. Magical energies were now far easier to see than mortal bodies.


    From a window in the house opposite, a burst of light¡ªether and steel¡ªflashed. The head of one of the shield-holding vampires burst apart in a spray of black sludge. Their protection failed.


    Nina, surrounded by a dense vortex of death magic, caught two enchanted bullets in the chest and was thrown backwards into a roadster.


    The man with the sabres closed the distance to a vampire so quickly I could have believed it was teleportation¡ªif not for the faint trail of sand magic left on the ground.


    The sabres struck at the vampire, but he blocked them effortlessly with his hands. He wasn¡¯t fast enough to stop the second bullet from the same window, though. It struck the back of his head, shattering it as easily as it had his companion¡¯s.


    Wait¡ªwhat was that?


    The entire street was littered with small but dense patches of sand and steel. Beyond that, full magical schematics were visible on the ground.


    ¡°Harry?¡± I asked, pointing to the nearest marker. By that point, I no longer cared about how they finished off the last vampire or how they restrained Nina.


    ¡°It¡¯s a trap,¡± the wizard explained.


    The woman beside us, who hadn¡¯t participated in the fight, let out a surprised hum of acknowledgment.


    ¡°I¡¯d ask you not to spread this around.¡±


    ¡°Think Nina won¡¯t figure it out?¡±


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    ¡°I couldn¡¯t care less. She just lost her best fighters.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡± I asked.


    ¡°For balance. The Lindemanns and the Gratches used to counter the Valentines, but with Noah and Lucas dead, the whole system went to hell, and Nina got carried away.¡±


    ¡°Then why not just get rid of her?¡±


    ¡°Vampires are more like wolves than birds, even though they call their groups nests. They need a strong leader, or things fall apart. And it¡¯s too early to take her out. After all, she still has a few questions to answer, doesn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°Liza!¡± Roger called out.


    ¡°Excuse me, gentlemen, time to work.¡±


    The girl quickly ran over to the Kilworth brothers, who were in the process of tying up Nina. She easily leapt over the body of a dead vampire and stopped near the roadster. Yan grabbed the vampire by the hair, pulling her head back, while Roger pressed on her cheekbones and forced her jaw open. Liza pulled a vial out of her pocket and poured its contents into Nina¡¯s mouth. Roger immediately clamped her jaw shut with his hand to make sure she couldn¡¯t spit it out.


    For a couple of minutes, Nina thrashed around like a stubborn mare, but soon her strength began to wane. Her movements slowed, and eventually, she went limp. Yan threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the house.


    ¡°Can we come in?¡± Harry asked Roger, who was walking ahead.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask,¡± the shifter replied. He held the door open for his brother, waited until Yan had carried Nina inside, and then, before stepping in himself, turned to Liza and said, ¡°Liza, don¡¯t linger.¡±


    The girl was busy tending to the injured sergeant, giving him some kind of potion. She soon ran past us as well.


    ¡°Are we being polite?¡± I asked Harry.


    ¡°Polite as can be,¡± the wizard confirmed.


    ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Because something bloody strange is going on.¡±


    ¡°But usually, when something bloody strange happens, you¡­¡± I mimed Harry casting a spell with a dramatic gesture.


    "And whom would you suggest targeting here?" Harry gestured at the constables.


    ¡°Agreed¡ªleave them alone,¡± I nodded, just as the door opened.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Roger said.


    We passed through the house, and on the back patio, we ran into the butler, who was pressing a towel with ice against his jaw, accompanied by a couple of angry-looking men in civilian clothes.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± said a rather unremarkable brunette whose only notable feature was his large, protruding ears. ¡°Who are they?¡±


    ¡°Freelancers,¡± the shifter replied coolly, holding the door open to the barn-turned-gym.


    ¡°That¡¯s Lord Loxlin!¡± the butler objected as we walked in. ¡°He hit me!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d have killed you,¡± Roger replied, shutting the door behind us.


    ¡°Smith. Kinkaid,¡± Bertram nodded at us. I wasn¡¯t sure what rank he held within the special unit, but judging by his demeanour, he was in charge here. His casual disregard for our titles spoke volumes about his authority and position. Harry, however, didn¡¯t seem to care and greeted him just as curtly, by surname.


    ¡°Vixley. Hello, John,¡± Harry nodded at Sunset before turning to look at Kate, who was tied to one of the gym¡¯s columns.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself,¡± the detective said, stopping him. ¡°We¡¯ve got an understanding here, more or less.¡±


    Kate nodded reluctantly. Her face was a mess. Vampires don¡¯t bruise easily, but her swelling was impressive. Her eyes were puffed up, and her lips were swollen like minced meat. Still, she looked better than after her fight with Flower. At least this time, her hair was intact, and her clothes, while riddled with holes, weren¡¯t burned off completely.


    Her red jacket bore punctures from blades, bullets, and even claws and fangs. Kate¡¯s three sisters were sprawled unconscious on the floor, displaying a similar collection of injuries, though to a lesser extent.


    ¡°Questions can wait,¡± Bertram cut in curtly. ¡°Liza, start.¡±


    The girl pulled a piece of chalk from her pocket and quickly sketched a ritual circle on the floor, filling it with runes and figures. The purpose of the ritual eluded me, but Harry showed immediate interest and stepped closer. Within seconds, he had pulled out a book and extracted a different spell from its pages.


    ¡°I suggest we use this,¡± he said.


    ¡°I¡­¡± The girl squinted at the symbols. ¡°I won¡¯t work it out that quickly. It¡¯s far more sophisticated.¡±


    ¡°And far more stable.¡± Harry reassured everyone.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have any containment factors.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a meditative circle. And we already have plenty of containment factors,¡± Harry replied, gesturing at himself, Bertram, and the Kilworth brothers.


    Still, she hesitated to make the decision herself and looked to her commander.


    ¡°We do have enough containment,¡± Vixley nodded. ¡°The rest is up to you.¡±


    ¡°Then, if you would, sir,¡± Liza said, gesturing to the floor.


    Harry waved his hand, and the chalk marks vanished, replaced by the completed spell. Yan immediately laid Nina on top of it, and Liza poured another potion down the vampire¡¯s throat, then nodded to Harry. The wizard adjusted Nina¡¯s limp body with telekinesis, positioning her so that none of her limbs extended beyond the inner, rune-free section of the circle, and activated the seal.


    The steel and earth runes darkened, embedding themselves into the floor as though eating through it. The ether, blood, and water runes released columns of light, each matching their respective element. Harry moved his fingers, and the columns swayed, bending until the energy from the runes flowed into Nina¡¯s head, directly into the blackened spot on her forehead¡ªwhere a human¡¯s third eye would be.


    Harry glanced at Liza, who reached into her pocket and pulled out another vial. Did she just carry these, or was that a dimensional pocket?


    ¡°Who¡¯s going to ask the questions?¡± she asked, looking at the commander.


    ¡°We agreed already!¡± Sunset snapped, snatching the vial from her hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s disgusting, but there¡¯s no backup!¡± she reminded him firmly.


    John poured the contents into his mouth, visibly struggling to swallow it as he fought back a grimace.


    ¡°Foul stuff. When does it ki¡ª¡± His eyes lit up with ether. ¡°Ah¡­ I see. Ready to start asking?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Just make sure to keep your eyes on her. Preferably, make eye contact,¡± Liza instructed.


    Harry tilted Nina¡¯s head with telekinesis so that John could follow her advice exactly.


    ¡°Did you kill Valerie Lindemann?¡± Sunset asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Nina replied flatly.


    ¡°Do you know who did?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Bitch!¡± Kate hissed.


    ¡°Do I tie her mouth shut?¡± Bertram asked rhetorically.


    ¡°Who?¡± Sunset continued.


    ¡°An Archmaker,¡± Nina replied with the same detached tone. That made sense; the whole city had been buzzing about it already. Vampires valued rumours and were adept at distinguishing truth from fiction. It was one of the pillars of their survival.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Sunset cursed. ¡°I¡¯d hoped¡­¡±


    ¡°Stay calm! You¡¯ll break the connection,¡± Liza warned.


    Sunset took a loud breath in, exhaled, and steadied himself.


    ¡°Do you know the Archmaker?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Bloody hell!¡± Sunset snapped. Nina flinched noticeably.


    ¡°Detective!¡± Liza chided.


    ¡°Where were you on the night of the murder?¡± Sunset pressed on.


    ¡°At the Golden Tear first, then at my nest.¡±


    ¡°Were you alone?¡±


    ¡°With Simon.¡±


    ¡°He was with you all night?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Damn it!¡±


    Nina twitched again, the light in her eyes went out, and her body arched violently, spilling almost-black, undigested blood into the ritual circle. The blood runes immediately boiled away in green vapour, the pillars of light dispersed, and the structure of the seal collapsed into smoke. Harry let go of the vampire, and she slumped into her own vomit.


    ¡°I warned you!¡± Liza said sharply. ¡°Be careful with your emotions!¡±


    ¡°How am I supposed to keep calm?¡± Sunset shot back heatedly. ¡°We¡¯re screwed, and we¡¯ve got no leads!¡±


    ¡°She had to be lying!¡± Kate exclaimed.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t jump to conclusions,¡± Bertram said, turning to Liza and pointing at Sunset. ¡°If I¡¯m not mistaken, we¡¯ve still got a few minutes.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t subjugate the same vampire twice,¡± Liza replied.


    ¡°But you do have another submission potion, don¡¯t you? What about her?¡± Vixley asked, nodding toward Kate.


    ¡°What?¡± Kate asked, looking startled.


    ¡°This way we can also test whether it¡¯s possible to lie under the potion¡¯s influence.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ Fine. Just keep the questions to this case,¡± the vampire agreed.


    ¡°Get on with it!¡± Bertram ordered.


    Liza hurried to administer the potion to Kate while Bertram told the Kilworths to untie her.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need,¡± Harry interjected. ¡°Duncan, I need blood and water reservoirs.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m out of water,¡± I said, pulling a box from my satchel.


    Vixley slipped a ring from his finger and tossed it to the wizard.


    ¡°Will this do?¡±


    Harry nodded, holding the ring¡¯s gem to the page of his spellbook, repeating the process with a bloodstone, and pouring in ether. The spell was restored even before the potion began to take effect on Kate. Harry lifted the spell from the page and flung it onto the floor, positioning the column with Kate at the centre.


    The process repeated itself, though the glow in Kate¡¯s and John¡¯s eyes took longer to ignite this time. Sunset asked the same questions and, to everyone¡¯s frustration, got the same answers. Except, instead of spending the night indulging herself, Kate had spent it working on paperwork and survival plans for her nest.


    Annoying. It really was a dead end. But this time, John kept his emotions in check and managed to ask a few more relevant questions. For example, why had she attacked Simon? That¡¯s when the answers started getting uncomfortable for me.


    The special unit suddenly learned that Kate was deeply concerned for my safety and had assigned round-the-clock surveillance to me. More than that, she herself had been performing most of the protective duties since most of her sisters weren¡¯t qualified for the job. The only time she left me unsupervised was when I was at The Anvil or under the protection of stronger fighters, like the Kilworths or Harry.


    And here I thought all of that was in the past. I hadn¡¯t noticed any surveillance for a while, but there hadn¡¯t been any until Kate reinstated it after the Archmaker¡¯s attack.


    John also asked about the girls¡ªhow they ended up at the Golden Tear¡ªand confirmed his suspicions about James¡¯s reputation. Kate was terrified of Nina¡ªnot of Gratch herself, but of the possibility that her nest would destroy what remained of the Lindemanns. She lacked her father¡¯s diplomatic talent and was desperately searching for allies.


    Overall, the interrogation clarified the broader picture of recent events, but none of it shed any light on the Archmaker or Valerie Lindemann¡¯s murder. John kept questioning Kate until the spell¡¯s effects wore off. By then, Nina had regained consciousness, but no one paid her any attention. She was left to observe the proceedings.


    ¡°Where did you get the heart?¡± she croaked suddenly.


    I shot Harry a questioning look, and he mouthed the word ¡®ancient,¡¯ then mimed drinking a potion. He meant an ancient vampire¡ªa grandmaster, perhaps even a prince¡ªand there was no chance he¡¯d given it willingly.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Vixley said dismissively. ¡°How much did you hear?¡±


    ¡°From the part about surveillance,¡± Nina replied.


    The shifter nodded and sat down across from her.


    ¡°She believed you were involved,¡± he said, ¡°but now she knows you¡¯re not. I suggest you girls arrange a temporary truce¡ªespecially now that you¡¯ve lost your trump cards.¡±


    The vampire bared her fangs and hissed, but Bertram growled in return, baring his teeth as his eyes gleamed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t lose your head,¡± he growled. ¡°Or that will stop being a metaphor.¡±


    Nina composed herself.


    ¡°Simon?¡± she asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s inside,¡± the shifter replied with a grin. ¡°You know, usually it¡¯s the boys who die because of you. I like this one. What a mess he got you into¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Nina snapped.


    ¡°Not literally,¡± Bertram clarified. ¡°But if he hadn¡¯t started that fight with Duncan, Kate wouldn¡¯t have stepped in, and you wouldn¡¯t have shown up here.¡±


    ¡°He has nothing to do with this,¡± Nina said dismissively. ¡°This is you. You¡¯ve been holding a grudge against us for years. Mostly against Valentine, but he was out of your league. If it weren¡¯t for Lucas¡­ Don¡¯t tell me you planted this stupid idea in his head?¡±


    Bertram tapped his forehead with a finger.


    ¡°Lucas,¡± he said simply.


    ¡°Lucas,¡± Nina agreed. ¡°He was always scheming anyway.¡±


    Kate had fully regained consciousness by then, and Vixley put the question bluntly:


    ¡°So, ladies, will there be peace in the city, or are we about to have three new parents instead of one?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been officially named,¡± Kate reminded him.


    ¡°You know what I mean.¡±

 Chapter 20

    The vampire women agreed to Vixley¡¯s proposal. Vampires would agree to anything when their lives are at stake, and they''ll even keep their word¡ªas long as circumstances demand it. But afterwards, they always sought revenge. Bloody, cruel, and with a distinct touch of cynicism. As Sunset explained to me, however, the Special Squad had existed long before the vampires struck their deal with the duke, allowing them to establish nests in the city. Originally a division of the city watch, the Squad had quickly evolved into something more. After a series of reforms, it¡ªalong with other Units across the Empire¡ªwas absorbed into the police force, though it retained its proud traditions.


    Members of the Squad never forgot their own, even if those ties stretched back generations to descendants who no longer had any real connection to the group. And just like vampires, they knew how to exact bloody and ruthless vengeance. During such times, the rest of the police force would conveniently look the other way.


    This time was no different. Vixley explained it all away as a ¡°misunderstanding.¡± After all, what else could you call a shootout in the middle of the city that left three vampire corpses and not a single suspect in custody? Everyone who survived was let go, and no charges were even considered. The deaths of the vampires were simply chalked up to the ¡°rights of the mother.¡± That is, Nina acknowledged that her children hadn¡¯t exactly been the most upstanding members of society and forgave the police for their deaths.


    It reminded me of how Lucas Lindemann had ¡®forgiven¡¯ me for the deaths of his children. But in the end, that still hadn¡¯t turned out well.


    John and I left Sleepgarden as night began to fall over the city. Harry and Knuckles had departed earlier, but I stayed behind, wanting to talk privately with Sunset. I waited until we were alone in his car.


    There had been an opportunity earlier for John to ask Kate some uncomfortable questions. He could¡¯ve asked how Lucas and Noah died or probed into my role in those events. But he hadn¡¯t. Too many people I don¡¯t trust already know that secret, and yet¡­ I trust John.


    ¡°You asked how Valentine and Lindemann died,¡± I began.


    ¡°And now, out of the blue, you¡¯ve decided to tell me?¡± Sunset smirked, turning the steering wheel as we reached a junction.


    ¡°Valentine was killed by Bryce, and Lindemann by Evan.¡±


    ¡°I already knew about Valentine. What about Lindemann? And don¡¯t give me vague nonsense¡ªI know his sins outweighed my yearly salary in pennies. Be specific.¡±


    ¡°For his scheming. He kidnapped Finella Flower and set James and me against the Valentines.¡±


    ¡°Hm, I see.¡± He nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Since we¡¯re having a heart-to-heart, one more question¡ªwhy did you come to Farnell?¡±


    Now that was a question I hadn¡¯t intended to answer. But once you start telling the truth, it¡¯s hard to stop. It¡¯s such a relief, really¡ªnot having to keep secrets, being able to speak honestly. I must¡¯ve felt like a criminal spilling everything during interrogation.


    ¡°I was looking for a traitor of the clan,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Did you find him?¡±


    ¡°I did.¡±


    ¡°And¡­?¡± Sunset ran his thumb across his throat in a slicing motion. ¡°No, wait! I don¡¯t want to know. Consider the topic closed. I don¡¯t know who your traitor was, and I don¡¯t care to find out. And as for the vampires, I definitely won¡¯t be missing them!¡±


    ¡°He was an assassin,¡± I said with a grin. ¡°A hired one, working with Valentine. Just to ease your conscience a bit.¡±


    ¡°That does help,¡± John admitted, perking up slightly. But then his mood soured as he sighed and muttered, ¡°If only someone would deal with the Archmaker¡­¡±


    ¡°I take it you figured out I wanted to talk to you about him?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t keep you long.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not driving you home. You can catch a cab at the station. Or we could grab a bite at Mo¡¯s instead?¡±


    ¡°Why not,¡± I agreed. I had no complaints about the Sparrow brothers¡¯ culinary talents. I could cook, sure, but the food at Mo¡¯s was better. Especially their black pudding and blood sausages, which I adored.


    John parked the car in front of the station. The cops¡¯ favourite caf¨¦ was almost directly across the street. He flagged down a constable and sent him inside to let the duty officer know where to find him in case of anything.


    Lunch hours were long over, and even dinner time was nearing its end, so the caf¨¦ was nearly empty. John ordered lamb with garlic and a pint of lager, while I went for the sausages I¡¯d just been thinking about, along with tea with milk and a rhubarb and almond pie.


    What should have been a few minutes of waiting stretched into half an hour. My sausages arrived almost immediately, but they took their time with the lamb. John didn¡¯t mind; he just sipped his beer.


    ¡°By the way!¡± the detective suddenly remembered. ¡°Fogan called this morning. He heard back from his friends in New Freeland.¡±


    John paused dramatically.


    ¡°Well?¡± I asked. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me our gallant gentleman never left the island?¡±


    "That would¡¯ve been ideal, but no, he did. He¡¯s got massive financial problems."


    "How can we use that?"


    "And why would a man with financial problems adopt two dependents?"


    "Guardianship, not adoption," I corrected. "He won¡¯t get access to their assets. So, how do we use it?"


    "Well, theoretically, whether it¡¯s adoption or guardianship, it has to be reviewed by a commission. They assess risks and rule out unsuitable candidates."


    If the commission is made up of orphanage staff, it¡¯s a dead end. Moody checked¡ªtotal solidarity. They cover each other¡¯s arses better than the Royal Bank protects its money.


    ¡°They¡¯re working with the Fairburns?¡±


    I nodded. John took a sip of his beer, and we both fell silent for a moment, thinking.


    ¡°But surely he¡¯ll try to settle it in court?¡± John suggested. ¡°Any case, no matter who¡¯s handling it, will end up going through Chapman.¡±


    ¡°Who doesn¡¯t think much of us either.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not you he doesn¡¯t like,¡± John corrected.


    ¡°It¡¯s me his father doesn¡¯t like,¡± I said. ¡°Got any ideas why?¡±


    Sunset shook his head, drained his pint, and signalled the waiter for another.


    ¡°The day isn¡¯t over yet,¡± I reminded him.


    ¡°But my shift is,¡± John countered, ¡°and this day is already irreparably ruined.¡±


    As often happens in rotten situations, John was wrong. The waiter had barely poured his second pint when an unfamiliar constable burst into the caf¨¦.


    ¡°Inspector, sir!¡±


    ¡°What is it, Watkins?¡± John asked, already resigned to the fact that he wouldn¡¯t be finishing his beer in peace.


    ¡°Special Squad called¡ªthey asked me to let you know: Baronet Kettle has been attacked.¡±


    ¡°By whom?¡± Sunset asked, though without much enthusiasm.


    ¡°An Archmaker, sir. They¡¯ve requested you to come to Sleepgarden.¡±


    John¡¯s expression shifted immediately. He rolled up his sleeve and checked his watch. I really should get one myself¡ªmy pocket watch make me feel like I¡¯ve stepped out of the last century. No, focus! I already knew where this was headed. Time to finish the sausages.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± the detective asked while I hurriedly stuffed my food into my mouth. ¡°It¡¯s a bit early for him, still more than two hours till midnight.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what they said,¡± the constable shrugged. His job was to deliver the message, and that¡¯s where his responsibility ended.


    ¡°Are you done?¡± John asked, watching as I finished off the last sausage with impressive speed.


    ¡°Mm-hmm,¡± I nodded, washing it down with tea to make swallowing easier.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Then you¡¯re driving,¡± the detective said, grabbing his plate of lamb. ¡°I¡¯ll return this,¡± he told the waiter. ¡°Put it all on my tab.¡±


    And so we drove off: I was behind the wheel while John ate. By the end of the drive, he¡¯d even taken off his tie and used it as a napkin.


    Outside Kettle¡¯s house, the scene was different this time. A new perimeter had been set up, and alongside the police vehicles were bright red fire trucks, an ambulance, and the coroner¡¯s van. For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, the Archmaker had been taken down. But I immediately crushed that thought¡ªit would¡¯ve been too much of a win.


    A young constable, completely unfamiliar, tried to stop us, but John shoved his badge in the lad¡¯s face. The boy looked like he wanted to bolt, but the detective stopped him.


    ¡°Where to?¡±


    ¡°The back yard, sir. There¡¯s a barn, but it¡¯s not exactly¡­¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± John waved him off.


    As soon as we walked through the house and opened the door to the back yard, we were greeted by quite the scene. In just the few hours we¡¯d been gone, plenty had changed at Kettle¡¯s.


    First of all, there was the body, lying under a white sheet, right on the path leading to the barn. A bloodstain had spread across the sheet in the chest area.


    The damage extended further¡ªa shattered window in the house, a burned-down apple tree, shrubs cut down to the roots, and the barn itself with charred beams instead of a roof and massive, head-sized holes burned through the walls. It was as if this wasn¡¯t a clash between Kettle and the Archmaker, but rather a full-scale dispute between Flower and Harry. Though in that case, I¡¯d be surprised if the barn had survived at all.


    John walked straight over to the body and pulled back the sheet. It was the butler. Guilt pricked at me instantly for that punch to his face earlier. I hadn¡¯t even had the chance to apologise, though what could I have said? Sorry, I¡¯ve got serious issues, and any hypnosis knocks me flat?


    The old man¡¯s chest had several closely grouped bullet wounds.


    ¡°John!¡± Commander Vixley of the Special Squad called out to the detective.


    He was standing near the barn wall, with a soot-streaked but alive Kettle seated in front of him. A medic was busy bandaging the baronet¡¯s arm, while Simon sat there silently, staring at the butler¡¯s body with tears streaming down his face. He didn¡¯t make a sound.


    We walked over, waiting until the medic finished wrapping Kettle¡¯s arm and stepped away. The baronet reeked of alcohol and burnt hair. His hairstyle had a noticeable gap where it had been singed, and his shirt bore clear traces of soot and blood.


    ¡°He¡¯s not himself,¡± Bertram said. ¡°Could be shock, could be the booze. One word every half hour at most.¡±


    ¡°The Archmaker?¡± John asked.


    Vixley nodded.


    I glanced between the corpse and Kettle. Who was the old man to him? I remembered how he¡¯d forced Kettle to eat oatmeal when he was hungover, and Kettle had listened. Ordinary servants don¡¯t get to order their masters around like that. And people don¡¯t cry over mere staff members¡ªnot unless you¡¯re a weepy lady, and Kettle didn¡¯t strike me as that type.


    ¡°My condolences,¡± I said before John could open his mouth.


    Kettle stirred, as if surprised to hear a dog start speaking in human tongue, and looked up at me.


    ¡°You don¡¯t even like me,¡± he muttered, shaking his head.


    ¡°To hell with that,¡± I replied deliberately roughly, adding a sharper edge to my tone. ¡°Whatever you might think of me, I¡¯ve lost people close to me too¡­ My condolences,¡± I said again, this time much softer.


    Simon met my gaze, clearly torn between snapping at me and thanking me. In the end, he just nodded and dropped his head.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to try and get revenge?¡± I asked.


    Kettle lifted his head again.


    ¡°How do you take revenge on the dead?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± I said, pointing at the corpse. ¡°Are you saying he was the Archmaker?¡±


    ¡°No, you idiot! That¡¯s Gregor!¡±


    What did my grandfather have to do with this?


    ¡°Your half-brother?¡± Sunset asked.


    Right! The guy¡¯s name was the same as my grandfather¡¯s. Either Simon had drunk too much, or his brother had risen from the dead. Which wasn¡¯t impossible, considering the kinds of things that visit me. Speaking of which¡ªit¡¯s night now.


    I reached for my anti-ghost ring, just in case.


    ¡°You saw a ghost?¡±


    ¡°You could put it that way,¡± Kettle chuckled drunkenly.


    ¡°Not a trace of ether in the air,¡± Bertram commented. ¡°Fire, ice, death. And gunpowder! .45 calibre casings everywhere. Most likely a Thompson. Anyone ever see a ghost firing a submachine gun?¡± he joked, and I suddenly remembered Simon grabbing Knuckles by the arms while holding an automatic weapon.


    ¡°I have,¡± I said. ¡°But that¡¯s clearly not the case here. Sir Bertram, would you kindly stand him up and hold him steady?¡±


    With a sharp tug, Vixley hauled Kettle to his feet while I pulled a detox potion from my satchel. Bertram raised an eyebrow but grabbed Kettle firmly by the nose and jaw.


    The baronet retaliated with a weak burst of lightning. Vixley grimaced, then slapped him hard enough¡ªwith the strength of a shifter¡ªto disorient him just long enough for me to pour the potion¡¯s contents down his throat.


    ¡°Now we¡¯d best step back,¡± I warned.


    They let go of Kettle, and he slid down the wall, cursing under his breath. For a few minutes, we watched as he started to shake, then politely turned away when the retching began. We only returned once the sounds of vomiting and garbled swearing gave way to coherent speech.


    ¡°You¡¯re a bloody bastard, Kinkaid!¡± were the baronet¡¯s first clear words.


    ¡°Says the pot to the kettle,¡± I retorted. ¡°Instead of helping us catch the bastard who killed someone close to you, you went and got drunk out of your mind.¡±


    ¡°I got drunk earlier,¡± Kettle shot back.


    ¡°So who was it?¡± John asked.


    ¡°I already told you¡ªit was Gregor bloody Chapman.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, a ghost¡­¡± Vixley added sceptically.


    ¡°In the flesh.¡± Kettle turned to glare at me. ¡°Damn it, Kinkaid, how much longer is this going to keep shaking me up?¡±


    ¡°Another two hours, but you¡¯ll feel better in a couple of minutes. Now focus.¡±


    ¡°He showed up right after you left. At first, I thought it was a hallucination¡ªthat I¡¯d drunk myself silly¡ªbut Carver saw him too.¡±


    Kettle paused to suppress another wave of nausea, but John, like a hound picking up a scent again, prodded him along.


    ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°He offered me a drink.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± We were confused.


    ¡°Am I speaking Martian?¡± Kettle snapped. ¡°He pulled a bottle of whisky out of his rucksack and offered me a drink.¡±


    ¡°A big, black one?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No, just regular whisky.¡±


    ¡°I meant the rucksack!¡±


    ¡°No, just a normal camping bag.¡±


    ¡°And how was he dressed?¡±


    ¡°Same as usual¡ªgrey hat, jacket, trousers, brown coat, old shoes. Nothing remarkable. If you passed him in a crowd, you wouldn¡¯t give him a second look¡­ except maybe for the limp in his left leg.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you so sure he¡¯s the Archmaker?¡±


    ¡°Because he bloody well told me so! Maybe if you stop interrupting, I can actually explain what happened?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re all ears, sir!¡± Sunset interjected before I could respond.


    ¡°He came in and said, ¡®Long time no see, brother. Fancy a drink?¡¯ By that point, I¡¯d already started drinking, so I didn¡¯t see the point in refusing. The world was going to hell anyway¡ªI figured Judgment Day was just around the corner, and it was too late to play the righteous man. So we drank¡­ Sat down¡­¡± Kettle gestured toward the shattered window. ¡°Three shots back to back. He was laughing¡­¡±


    The baronet¡¯s gaze landed on the body under the sheet again, and his eyes filled with angry tears.


    ¡°That bastard,¡± he hissed. ¡°He said it was time for a family reunion¡­¡± Kettle¡¯s voice grew hoarse and raspy, likely a side effect of my potion. It dried the throat worse than whisky ever could. ¡°Give me a drink,¡± he croaked.


    Vixley signalled to a constable loitering near the house.


    ¡°Water!¡± he barked.


    A minute later, Kettle took a few gulps and cleared his throat before continuing.


    ¡°I was completely plastered¡ªmore than ever before¡ªbut my mind stayed sharp, like my body and brain had split in two.¡±


    ¡°The bottle¡ªstill in the house?¡± John asked.


    ¡°Think it might¡¯ve been poisoned?¡± Kettle asked in return. ¡°Maybe. Yeah, it¡¯s in the house.¡±


    ¡°You drank without gloves?¡±


    ¡°What kind of question is that? Of course I¡ªoh¡­ Gregor was wearing gloves.¡±


    ¡°Then we can¡¯t count on fingerprints,¡± Sunset sighed. ¡°Still¡­¡± He called the constable over and gave him instructions to collect specific evidence. ¡°Carry on.¡±


    ¡°I asked him what he¡¯d been doing all this time since his death. He said he¡¯d been searching for power... and he found it. Then he started talking about how he¡¯d always envied my gift, saying I never deserved it. Somehow, the conversation shifted to how I stole his childhood, his father, and destroyed his mother. Me! As if I was the one who sent her to the grave!¡± Kettle lifted his head and looked at me. ¡°You may not like me, but him¡­ He hates me. He said he¡¯d wanted to end it back then, in the club, but he wasn¡¯t ready yet. So, instead, he took it out on the vampire bitch. He said he absorbed her power easily, though not without consequences¡ªwhatever that means.¡±


    ¡°Vampirism or a transformation akin to it,¡± I explained.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t have fangs, and his eyes looked normal. Still, his strength and speed were beyond anything human.¡± Kettle paused. ¡°When Gregor started raising his voice, Carver asked him to leave the house.¡±


    I glanced at the shattered window and the body on the path, already piecing together what must have happened next. And, as it turned out, I was right. Gregor¡ªthe Archmaker¡ªhad thrown the old butler through the window. But Carver wasn¡¯t exactly helpless. After today¡¯s earlier incidents, he¡¯d wisely armed himself with a rod from his master¡¯s collection. The old man hadn¡¯t hesitated to use it, and Gregor responded with a burst of fire from his submachine gun. He¡¯d kept the Thompson hidden under his coat and used a flat magazine to keep it concealed. Seemed he¡¯d taken a liking to the same machine Knuckles had used earlier.


    ¡°So the old man caused all this?¡± I asked, pointing at the scorched barn.


    ¡°No,¡± Bertram replied. ¡°That was the police unit the old man called. The officers heard the window shatter just as they were arriving. The call had come in much earlier¡ªhe must have sensed trouble coming and called ahead.¡±


    ¡°But it didn¡¯t save him¡­¡± Kettle said bitterly.


    ¡°It saved you,¡± Bertram pointed out.


    ¡°And who cares?¡± Simon laughed darkly.


    ¡°Make it matter!¡± I snapped. ¡°Otherwise, his death really will be meaningless.¡±


    ¡°And what can I do? Announce that my ¡®dear brother¡¯ is the Archmaker? My father and granddad would have me locked in an asylum faster than I could blink. Their precious boy, the son they¡¯ve mourned for years, couldn¡¯t possibly be a bad person!¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t believe you,¡± John agreed.


    ¡°Do we believe him?¡± Vixley interjected. ¡°Alcoholics are highly susceptible to illusions and suggestion.¡±


    ¡°The grandfather¡­¡± I said, turning to John. ¡°Remember how aggressively he reacted to me?¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡± John frowned, not following.


    ¡°It was the day after the Archmaker tried to kill me.¡±

 Chapter 21

    Last night, we didn¡¯t manage to decide what to do, but we did have plenty of time to argue. Most of the arguing was directed at Kettle, who barked back with enthusiasm, even managing to shift the blame first onto me and then onto Sunset. Vixley caught some of the fallout as well, though his stance on the matter was rather odd: apparently, an Archmaker doesn¡¯t meddle in city politics or cause mass destruction, so it was none of his business. For those words, he got an earful, but he didn¡¯t so much as bat an eye.


    ¡°First, you lot need to decide,¡± he said, ¡°what exactly you plan to do. Because I seriously doubt you¡¯re considering shaking down Professor Chapman. If you do, the shit that¡¯ll come pouring out will drown everyone.¡±


    ¡°There are ways to shake someone down,¡± I countered.


    ¡°And reveal our hand?¡± The shifter raised an eyebrow. ¡°No. If you¡¯re going to do it, then do it so thoroughly that the bastard¡¯s drowning in the muck straightaway.¡±


    ¡°Daddy dearest¡¯s reputation won¡¯t survive that kind of blow,¡± Kettle said.


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll have to protect it,¡± John concluded with a note of irritation. All of us looked at him curiously. I knew full well that he wasn¡¯t opposed to dunking Chapman headfirst into all that muck. Kettle was thinking God knows what, Vixley seemed to approve of the plan, and I still hadn¡¯t made up my mind.


    ¡°We¡¯ll observe. Can you spare a couple of people?¡±


    ¡°For what?¡± Bertram asked.


    ¡°To keep an eye on the drunkard, so he doesn¡¯t get up to any more mischief.¡±


    ¡°Better yet, give me a barrel of whiskey and lock him in a cell for a week,¡± Kettle suggested.


    ¡°No,¡± Sunset decided. ¡°You¡¯ll be the bait until I come up with something better.¡±


    ¡°As long as there¡¯s enough booze,¡± the baronet waved it off. The risk to his life didn¡¯t seem to trouble him in the slightest.


    ¡°My potion has completely purified your blood,¡± I reminded him. ¡°You could use the opportunity to quit.¡±


    I expected him to brush the suggestion aside again, but to my surprise, Kettle paused, lost in thought. He didn¡¯t say a word before we left.


    The second Simon¡ªdead Simon¡ªnever showed up. Either the last time had taken too much out of him, or there wasn¡¯t enough ether nearby this time. In any case, I kept the ring at the ready for nothing, and as soon as I returned home, Harry took it away.


    Sleeping without the ring was a bit nerve-wracking. Simon had already thrown a card under my bed once, so I painted protection runes on the backs of my hands. The one on my right hand didn¡¯t turn out great, but it should work.


    And again, it was all for nothing. By morning, I¡¯d nearly scrubbed my hands raw trying to remove the ink, but it was still better than meeting an angry ghost unprotected. Between one thing and another¡ªbreakfast, tea, discussing problems, and taking on tasks from Harry¡ªwe had visitors.


    A woman arrived with two constables in tow. They didn¡¯t even stop at the gate but brazenly marched straight up to the house. Harry looked puzzled until the first constable stepped into a swamp trap and began sinking into the gravel path. The second tried to rescue him and promptly triggered a fire ward. The sound of a burning man screaming and a woman swearing like a dockworker brought some life to the estate grounds.


    ¡°Shall we go take a look?¡± I offered. Harry didn¡¯t need to¡ªhe could see everything perfectly well, but I had to make do with his recounting of the scene.


    ¡°Why bother?¡± the wizard asked. ¡°The spectacle¡¯s already underway.¡±


    ¡°Precisely! They might accuse you of assaulting officers or something. We ought to find out who they are and what they want.¡±


    ¡°Fine. You¡¯ve convinced me.¡±


    We approached the visitors just as the scorched constable was dragging his partner out of the squelchy, mud-like gravel. The constables didn¡¯t appear too badly hurt. Their protective amulets seemed to have done their job. But as soon as they spotted us, the scorched man pulled a revolver, and his companion raised a rod.


    Harry didn¡¯t stand on ceremony. With a flick of his hand, the weapons leapt from their grips and disappeared into the swamp trap.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± the wizard demanded sharply.


    ¡°Daphne Tetrivale!¡± the woman declared with a mix of pride and indignation. Just moments ago, she¡¯d been cursing like a sailor, but now she smoothed her austere black dress, adjusted her heavy horn-rimmed glasses on her long nose, and added in the tone of an imperious duchess, ¡°Headmistress of the Saint Alaric Orphanage! I demand the return of my wards to the orphanage!¡±


    Fearless old hag. And by the look on her face, a rare kind of harpy too.


    ¡°Madam, this is the first time I¡¯ve ever laid eyes on you, and yet you¡¯re already making demands,¡± Harry replied calmly. ¡°I¡¯m starting to suspect you know a great deal less about raising children than I do.¡±


    ¡°You dare¡­¡± the woman began, her voice rising in fury. Truly unhinged, I swear. But before she could finish, Harry snapped his fingers, and Daphne¡¯s lips fused together, muffling whatever insult she had been about to hurl. Losing her primary weapon, the woman went completely mad and swung her handbag at the wizard. I couldn¡¯t help but be intrigued. Whoever sent her here¡ªdid they do it on purpose, knowing she¡¯d act like this, or were they simply out of better idiots to send?


    Harry made a few more gestures, and the handbag stuck to the air, along with the lady¡¯s hand. Two hastily drawn seals now shimmered on her: one on her lips, the other on the hand clutching the bag. The headmistress was no longer causing any serious trouble, though she was still flailing her free limbs about.


    ¡°And who might you two be?¡± Harry asked, turning to the constables.


    ¡°Third-Class Constable Darren O¡¯Hara.¡±


    ¡°Second-Class Constable Carl Pringle.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°The sergeant told us to accompany the lady and follow her orders,¡± Pringle replied grimly.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t know this was your house, sir,¡± O¡¯Hara added. Pringle shot his partner a dark look. O¡¯Hara felt the need to elaborate. ¡°Sir Harry.¡± Pringle¡¯s frown deepened. O¡¯Hara rolled his eyes. ¡°Sledgehammer! Apologies, sir.¡±


    ¡°Sledgeh¡ªohhh!¡± Pringle¡¯s face lit up with recognition. ¡°It was the sergeant, sir.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll deal with it,¡± Harry promised. ¡°Duncan, call the police. I imagine the Fourth Precinct will have some questions for their colleagues in the Second.¡±


    The constables visibly deflated. It was only now that I noticed the ¡°2¡± insignia on their lapels and cursed my own inattentiveness. I¡¯m no expert on police interrelations, but I had a hunch that working on another division¡¯s territory without permission wasn¡¯t exactly kosher. And judging by their faces, they definitely hadn¡¯t gotten permission.


    I dashed inside the house and quickly dialed Sunset. Luckily, the detective was in.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s very interesting,¡± he said. ¡°Now call the duty officer and request a squad.¡±


    ¡°I called you. Can¡¯t you send one over yourself?¡±


    ¡°Forgot about the second accusation already? Remember the Fairburns accused you of using personal connections and me of abusing my authority? Call the duty officer. The sergeant needs to log the call in the ledger. In the meantime, I¡¯ll track down Mallory. He¡¯s a decent fellow. A bit odd, but he knows his job.¡±


    What followed was a circus. First, two constables arrived. I recognized one of them from the sleepless night after the Archmaker¡¯s attack. The new arrivals mocked their Second Precinct colleagues and asked Harry to unseal Daphne¡¯s lips. They listened to her profanity for about a minute before begging Harry to seal them again.


    After a half hour of unproductive wrangling, the constables concluded that the situation was ¡°a gray area¡± and outside their jurisdiction. So, we called the station again and requested a detective.


    Enter Mallory. Thin as a rake, all bones and stooped shoulders, wearing a jacket that hung on him like it belonged to someone twice his size. But he had impressive blond mutton chops that made his head look comically wide. The mockery ritual repeated itself almost step-for-step, even down to enduring Daphne¡¯s tirade for less than a minute.


    The only difference was that Mallory maintained an expression of genuine concern throughout. Instead of asking Harry to silence the woman, he requested her release. Whether this was a miscalculation or a calculated gamble on the detective¡¯s part, I couldn¡¯t say. But as soon as Daphne was free, she started kicking and swinging her handbag again.


    The first blow was aimed at Harry¡¯s head, but the wizard had prepared for that. The bag ricocheted off his magical shield and smacked the nearest constable squarely on the skull. Unfortunately for him, he wasn¡¯t wearing a helmet and nearly passed out. Judging by the weight of the swing, the bag must have contained lead ingots for ¡°self-defense.¡±


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    Subduing the furious woman was impossible, and she was eventually dragged out of the estate in handcuffs, cursing fluently all the while. The neighbors from across the street peeked out of their windows to watch the spectacle.


    The Second Division constables weren¡¯t cuffed, but they tried to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible.


    ¡°Well, that was fun,¡± I said to Harry after the police car finally drove away.


    ¡°I agree,¡± the wizard replied. ¡°A nice little distraction. What do you think the Fairburns were trying to achieve?¡±


    ¡°That you¡¯d burn the old harpy on the spot,¡± I guessed.


    ¡°No, burning isn¡¯t my style. I¡¯d have crushed her. You know, just flattened her¡ªif I hadn¡¯t suspected it was all a setup.¡±


    ¡°God¡¯s work,¡± I muttered. ¡°Imagine if she treats the kids like that.¡±


    ¡°Horrifying!¡± Harry shuddered.


    ¡°Alright, enough joking. I¡¯m in for the procedure.¡±


    ¡°What procedure¡­? Oh, I see. Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°As experience shows, an amulet isn¡¯t much of a defense.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have let the vampiress take it off.¡±


    I shrugged. He was right, but what else could I have done? Fight her to the death?


    ¡°And what were my chances? Better think about how to make it so I can train resisting while using that thing. That would be ideal.¡±


    ¡°You know, that¡¯s not a problem. I can do that. But you should know, during the procedure, you¡¯ll have to stay conscious. No anesthetics, nothing.¡±


    ¡°I was trained to endure pain.¡±


    ¡°Your choice. Go meditate, then.¡±


    I meditated until evening, sitting in the hall inside the octagram Harry had prepared, channeling streams of ether through my body. Harry came in a few times to take measurements from my forehead, attach reservoirs, and fiddle with some bizarre contraptions of his own making. When the time came, I was called out.


    The procedure was to take place in the much-abused hall, with the doors to the meditation chamber left open to maintain a suitable etheric background. Not long ago, the floor here had barely been scraped clean of the blood of chimeras, so Harry had prepared better this time: he laid down a large sheet of canvas and placed an old, sturdy chair on top of it¡ªone with a high back and armrests.


    I took stock of the setup and silently stripped down to my underclothes. No need to ruin my clothes. Head wounds, even minor ones, bleed like a slaughtered pig.


    Little Sparrow was sent off to another room, while the elder one stayed behind to assist Harry. It was Knuckles who fastened my arms and legs to the chair with makeshift leather straps. My chest was bound to the backrest with rope, and my head was secured with another strap that crossed over my eyes. There was a hole in the strap in front of my left eye, so I could see a little of what was going on in the room¡ªnot that there was much to watch. More than anything, I worried about the chair holding up; it creaked suspiciously under my weight.


    ¡°Is this thing going to hold?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll reinforce it with earth,¡± Harry promised. ¡°But try not to thrash around.¡±


    The wizard summoned a book and began casting spells. The world around me burst into the vibrant hues of the elements, then dissolved into an etheric haze.


    ¡°We¡¯re starting,¡± Harry said. ¡°Open your mouth.¡±


    I obeyed, and the wizard shoved a piece of wood, wrapped in cloth, between my teeth. His finger pointed at my forehead, and I felt a prickling sensation on my skin. It instantly transformed into sharp pain. Harry didn¡¯t drag things out or hold back, and for that, I was grateful.


    My grandfather had taught me how to deal with pain. Don¡¯t ignore it, and don¡¯t lie to yourself by pretending it doesn¡¯t hurt. The key is not to fear it. Fear magnifies pain a hundredfold. Pain needs to be accepted; let it hurt, if it must.


    The problem with this approach is that it requires a clear mind to work. Right now, fresh out of meditation, I was in the right headspace.


    It felt like Harry was tracing a pattern of searing-hot iron across my forehead. That was the etheric blade making its incision. He was cutting a line from my hairline to my brows, parallel to the ground, then back up. I could feel warm drops of blood gathering on my brows. Then, with a single motion, Harry pulled the skin back, flipping the flap onto the top of my head.


    Tears streamed from my eyes, and stars exploded in my vision, dancing chaotically. Acceptance? To hell with acceptance!


    I bit down on the wood so hard it cracked, and I roared. My limbs tensed involuntarily, the straps creaked, and the chair groaned ominously, but it held, just as Harry had promised. Forget my grandfather¡¯s teachings¡ªin the midst of the head-splitting pain, I focused on simply reminding myself that I had willingly signed up for this torture.


    Harry was saying something, but his voice sounded distant, unrecognizable, and I couldn¡¯t make out the words. Something pressed against my forehead. There was only pressure; bone doesn¡¯t feel. Through the tear in the strap covering my eyes, I glimpsed a pair of etheric flashes through the haze of tears.


    Harry tugged on the skin again, this time pulling it back into place. Now, though, he smoothed it down, sealing the edges with a spell. Blood from my brows trickled onto the strap and into my eyes.


    For a moment, I thought I¡¯d gone blind.


    ¡°Mother of God, that hurt!


    The chair creaked, wobbled, and groaned as the straps¡ªand possibly my tendons¡ªstrained to their limits. My left arm suddenly lost its restraint and shot upward. The chair held, but the buckle on the strap had snapped. Harry cursed under his breath, and I quickly brought my arm back down, gripping the armrest tightly. Harry resumed stitching up my forehead, and I resumed growling through the pain.


    And just when it seemed like it was all over, the wizard delivered the final blow¡ªcasting a healing spell. The pain intensified to the point that it stopped being pain and simply ceased to exist.


    ¡°Duncan. Duncan!¡± Harry¡¯s voice broke through the fog as my lead-heavy head jerked up, and my body nearly slumped over.


    ¡°Uuugh,¡± I groaned, clutching my head.


    ¡°Stop sitting around. Go wash up, or that blood¡¯ll dry, and good luck getting it off.¡±


    I stood up automatically, trying to piece together the moments I¡¯d clearly missed. When had they untied me? My left leg buckled unexpectedly, and I would¡¯ve hit the floor if Knuckles hadn¡¯t caught me. Sparrow helped me make my way to the bathroom.


    In the mirror, I caught sight of my reflection. What a sight I was. My forehead was clean, but everywhere else there were streaks of blood. My face was completely soaked, like I¡¯d dunked it in the stuff.


    The bathtub was already filled, and I climbed in without even bothering to remove my underclothes. Not because I was embarrassed in front of Knuckles¡ªI wasn¡¯t even thinking about that at the time. I splashed water on my face and asked Clint, ¡°Why are you standing there?¡±


    ¡°Making sure you don¡¯t drown,¡± he replied.


    Out of habit, I wanted to snap back with something sarcastic, but instead, I just massaged my forehead. The sensation wasn¡¯t pleasant, but it was nothing compared to the pain that had split my head and mind earlier. I felt nauseated more than anything. I decided to postpone a more thorough self-inspection until later.


    Besides, the silver membrane Harry had used to create the protective seal was much thinner than skin and might not even be noticeable by touch.


    I quickly washed the blood away, checked to make sure I felt alright, and sent Knuckles off to fetch me some clothes. Harry had said there wouldn¡¯t be a scar, but when I examined myself in the mirror, I managed to spot a faint, thin strip of fresh pink skin if I looked closely enough.


    After the bath, there was terribly sweet tea and a plate of pancakes slathered in butter¡ªHarry¡¯s orders. He claimed it was perfect for a quick recovery. Honestly, I didn¡¯t realize how ravenous I was until the plate was empty.


    ¡°Well, are we going to test this thing?¡± I asked, tapping my forehead.


    Harry extended his hand, palm up. ¡°What do you see?¡±


    At first, nothing but his hand. I opened my third eye and immediately clutched my head as a wave of echoes from the earlier pain washed over me. When the pain ebbed and my vision cleared, I was no longer holding my head but gripping the edge of the table like it was a life preserver.


    Harry patiently kept his hand extended, a small flame of ether flickering above it.


    ¡°Ether,¡± I said.


    ¡°The shape?¡± Harry asked. The flame stretched and twisted into a spiral.


    ¡°A¡­ spiral?¡±


    Harry didn¡¯t respond, just held the figure steady. Then, slowly, the etheric flame began to darken, turning into steel. I told Harry what I was seeing, and he promptly dispelled the figure.


    ¡°I think we¡¯ve pushed you enough for now. Let¡¯s wait until tomorrow. Besides, we¡¯ve got guests again.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess, the woman from the orphanage?¡±


    ¡°No, Sunset and Moody.¡±


    ¡°What? Together? Are they even allowed to meet? People might start talking again.¡±


    The lawyer and the detective were clearly tipsy and practically hugging each other. We met them on the porch¡ªboth of them had pass amulets, so they weren¡¯t worried about the traps.


    You wouldn¡¯t guess John had been drinking¡ªhe looked his usual composed self¡ªbut Harold was a different story. The man was practically glowing, bursting with emotion, and somewhere along the way, he¡¯d shed the grey, lifeless demeanor he usually carried.


    Each of them held a bottle. Moody was the first to present his:


    ¡°Chateau P¨¦trus, 1899,¡± he declared with pride.


    ¡°Scotch, uh¡­¡± John said, glancing at the label. ¡°This year. Fresh.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s the occasion for drinking?¡± Harry asked.


    ¡°Simon¡¯s been cleared of suspicion,¡± Moody announced cheerfully, pulling a rolled-up newspaper from the inner pocket of his jacket and handing it to Harry. ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s issue. I must apologize¡ªthe front page cost a bit extra. But I figured the photograph was worth it.¡±


    Harry unrolled the paper. The headline read: ¡°THE PRICE OF KNOWLEDGE TODAY: BRIBERY IN THE ROYAL COLLEGE.¡± On the front page was a large photograph of a thoroughly astonished man holding a fan of ten-pound notes in his hand.


    ¡°What the hell is this?¡±


    ¡°Madigan,¡± Harold confirmed with a smug grin. ¡°Told you, the photo was worth it. And the writer managed to mention the Fairburn estate¡¯s connections multiple times in the article.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps this calls for a little celebration,¡± Harry decided, turning to Sunset. ¡°And you¡­ why are you grinning like that?¡±


    ¡°Oh, we had our fun with your Daphne. The entire precinct got in on it.¡±


    ¡°What did you do to her?¡± I asked, suddenly suspicious.


    ¡°We put her in the cell next to the same journalist who wrote your article,¡± Sunset explained, barely containing his laughter. ¡°Women like her are always making our lives hell. The guy documented her every tantrum. He¡¯ll have something written up by tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°And who¡¯s paying for this?¡± Harry inquired.


    ¡°You are,¡± John replied with a grin. Then he couldn¡¯t hold back anymore and burst into laughter. ¡°No, no¡ªit¡¯s free. But the important thing is, I¡¯ve figured out how we¡¯re going to take down the Archmaker.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve figured it out,¡± Moody corrected him.


    ¡°We,¡± John conceded with a nod.


    ¡°Come on in and tell us,¡± Harry said, gesturing toward the bottle of whiskey. ¡°We¡¯ll start with the fresh stuff, then I¡¯ve got a liter of moonshine stashed away.¡±


    ¡°With your permission, I¡¯ll stick to wine,¡± I said quickly, catching on. The last thing I wanted was to deal with a hangover potion tomorrow¡ªI¡¯d seen what it did to Kettle just yesterday, and the image of him retching was still fresh in my mind.

 Chapter 22

    Grandfather would¡¯ve said I should be proud of myself. And honestly, I think he¡¯d be right¡ªwhat seventeen-year-old manages to stay sober at a drinking party? I did, and I count that as a serious achievement, especially when you compare it to the state Sunset is in right now.


    That trio¡ªHarry, John, and Harold¡ªstarted last night with cheap, strong whiskey and moved on to even cheaper, stronger moonshine. They offered me a couple of shots, but I stubbornly stuck to wine, sipping it drop by drop, savoring every sip. As a result, Harold stumbled into a taxi around dawn, John stayed in one of the guest rooms and now serves as a living example of the wretchedness of drunkenness, and Harry... well, Harry tried to cast a purification spell on himself, managing to activate it only on the third attempt, and then spent the morning vomiting and cursing louder than Kettle did after trying my potion. He wasn¡¯t far off from matching Daphne, our fiery headmistress, either.


    While the struggle of these drunken fools occupied some space in my mind, they weren¡¯t exactly the main focus. Still, they were hard to ignore. Of course, I couldn¡¯t resist the opportunity to deliver a few remarks about age, brains, and self-restraint¡ªwhen else would I get a chance to lecture people twice or three times my age?


    But even in their alcohol-induced haze, the trio had been brimming with ideas last night. Most of them were utter nonsense, but one working plan did emerge: a way to get to the Archmaker through his patron¡ªdear old Professor Chapman.


    Nothing supernatural, just a classic break-and-enter with a bit of distraction on the side¡ªa diversionary provocation. And the more I thought about it, the more I started to believe it could work. Chapman didn¡¯t strike me as a patient man. The issue was the chosen executors of the plan: one alcoholic and two mentally unstable bloodsuckers.


    After giving John a teacup filled one-third with tea and two-thirds with sugar, I got straight to business.


    ¡°So, what part of last night¡¯s nonsense do you actually remember?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t lose my memory,¡± the inspector assured me. ¡°Are you saying it was all nonsense? I left with a clear impression of simplicity and brilliance.¡±


    ¡°You tell me,¡± I pressed. ¡°Where does a law enforcement officer get such a strong desire to break the law?¡±


    ¡°Well, fine,¡± John conceded. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s not the most brilliant idea, but I like it. It¡¯s time for decisive action!¡±


    ¡°Two days ago, you were saying the opposite¡ªyou were afraid of Chapman. He doesn¡¯t know yet about the attack¡­ the son attacking the stepson, does he? Or has he already called you in for a scolding?¡±


    "Well, about that¡­" John pulled a face so sour it was almost impressive. "He did call me in¡­ yesterday. Harold and I had already started drinking, and I might¡¯ve¡­ told him to bugger off. Just a bit."


    "¡®Just a bit¡¯ bugger off?" I asked.


    "Alright, maybe more than a bit¡­"


    ¡°Well, that explains a lot,¡± I said. It explained things but also disappointed me. As if the fact that the Archmaker is the judge¡¯s son wasn¡¯t bad enough, John had to go and ruin their already shaky relationship with His Honour. Not that it was ever good, but at least last time we managed to de-escalate things to neutral ground.


    ¡°How much did you tell him?¡±


    ¡°Nothing case-related. But I did explain in detail just how much he¡¯s been pissing me off.¡±


    ¡°Great. Let¡¯s head to Kettle¡¯s place. Maybe we¡¯ll catch him sober.¡±


    ¡°No need. Give him a few more hours.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    "The funeral. I have a couple of constables watching him. They¡¯ll call once the burial¡¯s done."


    Poor Carver was buried before ten in the morning. There were about ten familiar faces at the church service, and only one cook showed up for the wake. Carver¡¯s son served in the colonial army somewhere in India, his daughter had married and moved to America, and the rest of his relatives had long been resting in the city cemetery.


    We found the baronet in a foul mood, but stone-cold sober. Simon sat in one of the chairs in the drawing room, spinning a glass of gin in his hands and glaring hatefully at the untouched snacks on the table. The constables had nibbled on a few, as was traditional, but for the most part, the food remained untouched.


    I¡¯ve never known what to say in these kinds of situations. Public speaking has never been my strong suit, and Grandfather taught me more about action than words. But I had to say something, and luckily, John saved me.


    ¡°My condolences,¡± he said, and I parroted him like a trained bird.


    ¡°Gentlemen, give us a moment,¡± John added, addressing the constables. He waited until they left, then grabbed a clean glass and poured himself a shot of gin from the bottle beside the baronet. With a heavy exhale, he downed it in one gulp and quickly followed it with a slice of ham from the table.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea. You in?¡±


    Kettle stirred slightly, slowly raising his eyes and setting his glass down. Then, in a voice dripping with bitterness and self-irony, he said:


    ¡°I¡¯ve given up drinking. What else is there to do?¡±


    ¡°Pick a fight with your grandfather.¡±


    ¡°What for?¡±


    ¡°Inspector,¡± called one of the constables from the door, ¡°you have a visitor, sir.¡±


    ¡°Let her in. And the other one, too, when she arrives.¡±


    The first visitor was Kate. As always, the vampiress was dressed in red, though this time the shade was so dark it was hard to tell if it bordered on disrespect for the dead. Of course, she couldn¡¯t care less about yet another corpse¡ªshe¡¯d made plenty of those herself, enough to make the gallows cry for justice. But she¡¯d managed to stick to decorum. Almost.


    Her voice was cold and devoid of emotion.


    ¡°My condolences, Sir Simon,¡± she said before taking a seat in the corner by the window. On her way, she plucked a grape from the fruit bowl and popped it into her mouth.


    The second guest arrived a minute later. She was dressed in black, and her voice radiated genuine care and concern.


    ¡°How are you?¡± Nina asked, touching Kettle¡¯s shoulder before perching herself on the armrest of his chair and wrapping an arm around him.


    Kate let out a disdainful snort and popped another grape into her mouth, presumably to keep herself from spitting venom.


    ¡°Not great,¡± Simon admitted honestly. ¡°I have a burning desire to drink and kill someone.¡± He then turned his gaze to Sunset. ¡°What¡¯s all this about?¡±


    ¡°Do you know who attacked the baronet after you left this house?¡± John asked the vampiresses.


    Nina was the first to answer, her eyes narrowing slightly.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t confess.¡±


    Kate shook her head in the negative but feigned interest nonetheless.


    ¡°The Archmaker,¡± the detective said.


    The vampiresses immediately tensed. Kate reacted more sharply, demanding details, but John wasn¡¯t in a hurry to oblige.


    ¡°We all have a score to settle with him. But I can¡¯t trust everyone with this. The ladies are too headstrong, and Sir Kettle has a tendency to lose control.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever it takes!¡± Simon assured him with utmost seriousness.


    ¡°Only if I decide what ¡®whatever it takes¡¯ means!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget,¡± Simon countered, ¡°I know as much as you do.¡±


    ¡°Oh, not even close! And the little you do know, you wouldn¡¯t use properly¡ªyou¡¯d botch the whole thing and let him get away.¡±


    ¡°That is, if he hasn¡¯t gotten away already... Fine. You¡¯re in charge! Happy now?¡±


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    ¡°No, sir. This isn¡¯t a game. I don¡¯t want you to lose your temper and screw things up like you always do.¡±


    ¡°I get it already!¡±


    John held the suspense a little longer, letting his stern gaze sweep over the vampiresses until they gave their reluctant nods of agreement.


    ¡°The Archmaker is Gregor Chapman,¡± Sunset finally revealed.


    Both vampiresses frowned in unison, then shifted their gazes to Simon. Nina even pulled back slightly to do so. John waited patiently as the women worked their way through the stages of acceptance and digestion of this news. He answered their questions one by one but omitted the details of how we¡¯d connected the elder Chapman to his grandson.


    Once the questions stopped, Sunset handed out his orders. ¡°I want the vampires to break into Professor Chapman¡¯s residence, make a mess, and drag all his dirty laundry into the open before the police arrive.¡±


    ¡°You need an excuse to arrest him and search the premises,¡± Kate surmised. ¡°In that case, it¡¯s best to stage a corpse¡­ or two¡­¡±


    John blinked rapidly, caught off guard by her suggestion.


    ¡°Have you completely lost your mind, suggesting something like that? Think about who you¡¯re even saying it to!¡±


    ¡°It works!¡±


    ¡°Should I remind you what happened to Lucas the last time he tried that?¡± I asked. That sobered the vampiress up slightly, though it didn¡¯t stop her from arguing.


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll have to act blindly. And what if we find nothing?¡±


    ¡°Then turn the house upside down,¡± Sunset replied.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t require many people,¡± Nina said, glancing at Kate. ¡°You called both of us here. I suspect there¡¯s more to this.¡±


    ¡°There is,¡± John admitted. ¡°As Kate pointed out, there might not be anything in the house, and as Simon mentioned, the Archmaker might already have fled the city. I need someone to keep an eye on the old man. After their argument, he¡¯s bound to contact his grandson to warn him.¡±


    ¡°Why not use your usual flatfoots?¡± Nina asked.


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t care if you lot get hurt,¡± Sunset replied. Vampires might believe such a blunt answer, though the real reason was more pragmatic: the station was leaking information. Someone was tipping off Judge Chapman, and planning an operation involving a potential mole would¡¯ve been reckless. Then again, trusting the vampires wasn¡¯t exactly the pinnacle of wisdom either.


    ¡°All right, who¡¯s doing what?¡± Nina asked Kate. ¡°I¡¯d prefer the break-in. Any objections?¡±


    ¡°Hold it!¡± John interrupted. ¡°I already said I don¡¯t trust you.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± The vampires didn¡¯t follow.


    ¡°You¡¯ll work in pairs.¡±


    ¡°What kind of nonsense is this?¡± Kate protested.


    ¡°My boys will tear her girls apart,¡± Nina muttered.


    ¡°Who¡¯s tearing whom apart? You lost your masters last night!¡± Kate hit Nina where it hurt, pointing out her vulnerability. Vampires can endure a lot, but maintaining the illusion of invincibility is often their highest priority, even at great personal cost.


    Nina sprang to her feet. Kate bared her claws and fangs, I reached for my pistol, and Simon started to rise¡ªbut only John kept a cool head.


    ¡°Shut it and sit down!¡± he barked. ¡°You!¡± He pointed at Kate, then gestured to the chair against the wall. She¡¯d been standing the entire time. ¡°And you two!¡± He turned to Simon and Nina. ¡°Back in the chair! Now! No more chaos. Your nests are roughly equal in power right now, and continuing this feud will guarantee the destruction of both.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the foundation of your plan?¡± Nina asked.


    ¡°Yes,¡± the detective admitted. ¡°You¡¯ll keep an eye on each other, and you¡¯ll be only too happy to snitch to me if the other tries to betray you.¡±


    ¡°And what are you going to do about it, flatfoot?¡± Nina sneered.


    ¡°Vixley still owes me a favor.¡±


    At the mention of the shifter from the Special Squad, Nina¡¯s fangs slipped out involuntarily.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare mention that slippery freak in my presence!¡±


    ¡°Sit down or leave.¡±


    Nina cast a quick glance at Kate, who had already taken her seat and was chewing on another grape. Nina¡¯s thoughts must¡¯ve been running along the lines of John¡¯s right, damn him, and I can¡¯t leave this witch alone here. With a light shove, she pushed Simon back into the armchair and perched herself on the armrest. I holstered my pistol as well.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Sunset said. ¡°The plan is simple. You¡±¡ªhe pointed at Kettle¡ª¡°go to your grandfather and tell him you plan to kill Gregor. Say you¡¯ll spare no expense and that the slums are full of people willing to take the job.¡±


    ¡°The slums aren¡¯t credible,¡± Kate cut in.


    ¡°What about The Noose?¡± I suggested suddenly, recalling the place where the other Simon used to take his first contracts. Both the detective and the vampiresses nodded approvingly.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Kettle asked.


    ¡°A joint in Smuggler¡¯s Bay,¡± Nina explained. Kate added:


    ¡°Where you can order bad booze and a good hitman.¡±


    Strange¡ªKnuckles once told me the booze at The Noose was perfectly decent. Though, to be fair, he only knew that from hearsay. Kate, on the other hand, might¡¯ve actually been there as a customer. Especially since John confirmed the information with a nod and continued speaking.


    ¡°But our main leverage will be the vampires. Tell your grandfather they¡¯d be more than happy to take a bite out of anyone who laid a hand on one of their own. Show some emotion, but don¡¯t linger too long, and don¡¯t say more than necessary.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s just one thing I don¡¯t understand,¡± Kettle said. ¡°How did I figure out my grandfather was involved?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m wondering that myself,¡± Nina added.


    John and I paused, both lost in thought. Logic alone wasn¡¯t going to cut it here. I¡¯d linked the professor and the Archmaker through the raw, seething hatred the old man had displayed after my clash with Gregor. I still didn¡¯t fully understand why he¡¯d attacked me, and while the information about the attack had leaked from the Fourth Division, Kettle couldn¡¯t possibly know all the details¡ªor draw the right conclusions. Hell, I wasn¡¯t even fully confident in my own conclusions. Mine were based more on instinct than logic, and emotions are terrible advisors.


    ¡°Emotions!¡± I said aloud, turning to Kettle. ¡°When your brother disappeared, was your grandfather upset?¡±


    ¡°Well, they didn¡¯t think much of me back then, so I wasn¡¯t really in the loop. But he seemed angry¡ªhe was constantly arguing with the cops.¡±


    ¡°Did he shed a single tear?¡±


    ¡°No, but he¡¯s not the emotional type. He¡¯s... stern.¡±


    ¡°And what about your stepfather? How did he react?¡±


    ¡°Hm. Yeah, father was crushed. Nearly started drinking.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s your angle,¡± I said. ¡°Tell him you remembered how strange that was.¡±


    ¡°If he has any skeletons in his closet,¡± John interjected, ¡°he¡¯ll fill in the blanks himself. Watch his reaction closely. If he reacts strongly, it¡¯s a sure sign. Start the argument at the college, toward the end of the day. According to my sources, the professor¡¯s teaching until five today.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re planning to pull all this off today?¡± Kate asked in outrage. ¡°With no preparation? We need at least a day to coordinate!¡±


    ¡°The longer we wait,¡± John countered, ¡°the slimmer our chances of catching the Archmaker¡ªand the greater the chances that you two will conspire together.¡±


    ¡°Us?¡± the vampiresses exclaimed in unison. I think their surprise was genuine, but in this situation, I sided with John. Vampires would happily strike a deal with the devil if it promised them an advantage¡ªespecially if they thought they could betray him later.


    Sunset ignored their protests and continued his briefing.


    ¡°While Kettle¡¯s creating a scene, two pairs of vampires will break into the professor¡¯s house and turn the place upside down. If they find anything, they¡¯re to drag it out into the open, call the police, start some shooting, and then get out.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Sungarden,¡± Nina reminded him. ¡°First Division territory.¡±


    It turned out that the professor¡¯s address wasn¡¯t a secret to Nina. While they lived in the same district, they weren¡¯t exactly neighbors; a few blocks separated Gratch¡¯s Nest from the professor¡¯s modest house.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Sunset said. ¡°That¡¯s why the Kilworth brothers will just so happen to be patrolling nearby. They¡¯ll be the first to respond to the gunfire, but they won¡¯t find anyone inside.¡±


    ¡°And what if we¡¯re lucky and the Archmaker is there?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you want him taken alive,¡± Kate growled.


    ¡°God forbid! Kill him on the spot, just leave enough of his face for identification. But let¡¯s not kid ourselves¡ªour luck isn¡¯t that good. The professor isn¡¯t stupid. He could¡¯ve prepared for this and already cleared out the house. That¡¯s why one pair of vampires will also search his office after the confrontation, while another team tails him. He might visit somewhere¡­ interesting.¡±


    ¡°The club,¡± Kettle suddenly recalled.


    ¡°And why don¡¯t I know anything about this club?¡± John asked rhetorically.


    Kettle shrugged. ¡°He used to spend a lot of time at the Naturalist¡¯s Club with other scholars.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll add it to the list. Do we have enough bloo¡ªvampires for this?¡±


    The bloodsucker ladies exchanged tense glances, hesitant to lay their cards on the table, though they were already well aware of their competitors¡¯ positions. Nina was the first to crack.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have enough burglars,¡± she admitted.


    Kate confirmed this with a nod.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need that many,¡± John said. ¡°The second person is there to keep the first in check. Mix and match.¡±


    Over the next half hour, we ironed out the details of this reckless scheme. There was plenty of time left¡ªenough for Nina to draft a fiery monologue for Kettle and for Kate to scout out the Naturalist¡¯s Club.


    With nothing more required of John or me, we stepped out onto the porch, where the constables were stationed. One of them was lounging on the steps with a newspaper but quickly jumped to his feet the moment the door opened, rolling the paper into a tube.


    ¡°Is that the Farnell Daily?¡± I asked, holding out my hand.


    ¡°Yes, my lord. It was on the porch,¡± he replied, handing it to me.


    I unfolded the newspaper and stared at the unfamiliar front page featuring a photo of Headmistress Daphne. Her face was twisted with rage as she clung to the bars of a jail cell.


    ¡°WHAT ARE OUR CHILDREN BEING TAUGHT? How an Orphanage Headmistress Ended Up Behind Bars.¡±


    What the hell? I flipped through a couple of pages, looking for the photo of Professor Madigan clutching his fan of pound notes. Reaching the end, I went back, checked the date, and started over, this time scrutinizing the headlines more carefully.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Sunset asked.


    I split the paper, handing him the front page after a quick scan of the back text, and continued searching through the remaining insert.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± John remarked when I finished. ¡°Didn¡¯t find it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I replied. ¡°I should probably head back and make a call.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead. I¡¯ll wait here. Afterward, we¡¯ll head straight to him,¡± John said, clearly referring to Harold.