The realtor had warned Nuncio that buying the country house would cost a fortune. Renovating it to accommodate his mother’s needs would cost another. Getting a phoneline would add up to three fortunes. Nuncio hadn’t even flinched upon seeing the price tag. His father had been a monster, but he had known how to make fortunes. Just letting them collect interest in a bank made sure he never had to worry about money again.

  But all that money made him feel adrift.

  There was nothing left that needed doing and Nuncio could just spend his days in leisure. The last time he’d had to do work was when he helped renovate his new home. He was from a family of carpenters, and he was relieved to see that he could still use a saw and a hammer. Grandfather would have been proud.

  But now the house was finished, and it felt like he was just taking up room.

  A week could go by without him leaving his quarters and he usually only did so at his mother’s urging. He tried to keep himself busy with music and he had started composing his own work, but it never went anywhere. The piano and the violin no longer offered the comfort they once had. Most of his time was spent staring at an empty paper and trying not to think of the road that had brought him here. The ringing phone was an unwelcome distraction and for a moment Nuncio thought about ignoring it but finally not answering became the bigger chore.

  “Nuncio Capello speaking.”

  “Hi, Nuncio. Its Jenny.”

  Nuncio smiled and leaned back in his chair: “Jenny Glamour. Good to hear from you. How’s Abigail?”

  “Me and Gail are doing good. I just found myself thinking about you. How’s the country pumpkin life treating you and your mom?”

  “We are both doing good. If you’re worried about us, you are always welcome to visit to check up on us. Abigail too. We have plenty of room.” Nuncio said.

  “That sounds lovely, but you know me. Busy, busy, busy. Fashion never stands still. Nor does Artie. He’s worried about you too.”

  Nuncio bit his lip and gripped the receiver tighter: “How is Arturo?”

  “Hard at work. Possibly literally. His premiere is coming up and… well… that’s kinda why I called. You funded this thing almost singlehandedly and he would want you to be there for the opening night. Your mom too.” Jenny said before adding with some pride: “A genius designed the outfits so it’s worth seeing just for that even if the writing blows.”

  “I… would have to think about it.” Nuncio said.

  “We could see if Perry is available too. You two seemed to hit it off. He should return from his little expedition soon enough.”

  “Jenny…” Nuncio sighed.

  “Nuncio… I miss him too, but it’s been over a year.”

  Nuncio bit his lip: “I know.”

  “I loved him too. Not the way you did but… I knew him since we were babies and… we grew up together… until we were six and… well… Sal’s dad… he didn’t do any of us favors by taking Sal with him…”

  Jenny’s voice had grown wet like she was about to start crying. Then she blew her nose.

  “Okay.” Jenny said with new resolve.

  “Jenny?”

  “You wanna do this the hard way? Fine. You’re on, bitch. Guess what? I’m taking you up on that invite. Me and Gail are gonna crash there like a fucking asteroid and we ain’t leaving until you remember what it’s like to smile.”

  Nuncio allowed himself a weak chuckle: “I’d like that, Jenny.”

  “You better, bitch boy.” Jenny said and sighed: “Blessing of the Wild upon your journey, Nuncio.”

  “And blessing of the Balefire upon yours.” Nuncio said.

  After hanging up, Nuncio stared at the black phone for a long time. When he got up, the hems of his bathrobe dragged on the floor. He walked over to his piano and started playing. It had taken a long time for him to get used to the new piano since the old one burned with the Grey House. For the longest time the keys had felt like they were in the wrong place. But he had gotten used to it. You could get used to a lot but… he was tired of getting used to things. He was so tired all the time. He wished that the entire world was contained in this room. The thought of returning to Leoden… made him tremble. He could not bear the memories.

  “Sal… I miss you.” Nuncio said.

  Whenever he thought of Sal, he remembered the confidence of someone who believed they would live forever. A man that commanded any room he entered. They had known only for months so… why did it hurt so much? Sal was the one love he had known and thanks to Pietro Capello, he had little to offset it. No other happiness to cling to. He didn’t even have a sister to rely on anymore. Mom had insisted that Elysa got her own room too, but it remained empty and… Nuncio suspected it would always be empty.

  A knock on the door halted Nuncio’s playing.

  “Lord Capello? Can I come in?”

  “The door is open.” Nuncio said and closed the piano lid.

  When Emilia had worked for Cassio, she had been a mousy thing who even at fifteen looked closer to twelve. Living in the countryside had made her flourish. It was like in just a year she had caught up on all the maturing she had not done under Cassio’s roof. Her brown hair was longer and thicker. Her eyes were brighter, and a tan had done wonders for her skin. She no longer seemed to be swallowed by the maid uniform she wore. If anything, she was growing out of it.

  “I am sorry to bother you, lord Capello. I just wanted to know what kind of wine you wanted with dinner.” Emilia said.

  Nuncio bit his lip. Why did just deciding what kind of wine to drink feel like an insurmountable feat?

  “We had fish tonight, right? White wine. Dealer’s choice.” Nuncio said.

  Emilia nodded and then hesitated: “Lord Capello? Can I speak freely?”

  “You may.” Nuncio said.

  “When bad things happen… when you lose something… or someone… you can’t stay still. You must keep going. The pain will weigh you down otherwise and you’re stuck.” Emilia said and squeezed her arm: “You know what happened to me. I lost everything too. I… am probably the only person to know what it’s like… aside from your mother and… sister.”

  Nuncio bit his lip. He was a grown man and… a girl of sixteen was acting more like an adult than him.

  “How much do you remember of your past? Before Lord of the Hunt?” Nuncio asked.

  “Not much. Just that my parents… weren’t nice people and my siblings were always scared. Sometimes I dream and…” Emilia said before laughing nervously: “When I dream of my childhood… for some reason I’m always dressed as a boy. Even though I’ve always been a girl. I mean… I think I have.”

  “Girlhood suits you.” Nuncio said.

  Emilia smiled and did a small curtsy: “Thank you, my lord.”

  Nuncio stood up and decided he needed a bath and a shave.

  “Emilia, could you arrange train tickets to Leoden and inform lord Corvo that I will be attending his play’s opening night?”

  Emilia smiled like she had seen a flicker of life in a dead loved one: “It will be done, my lord.”

  When Nuncio washed off, he was shocked how pale and thin he was. If Emilia hadn’t been bringing him food regularly, he would have probably starved to death. His hair was greasy from lack of washing and his stubble had nearly turned into a beard. Sal had always liked playing with his hair when they’d been in bed. He had always liked how smooth his face was.

  Nuncio spent the next ten minutes crying on the bathroom floor.

  It had been so much worse on the first week when anything that reminded him of Sal had made him sob to the point, he had been unable to leave his bed. He wondered if the crying fits would ever go away fully.

  Clean clothes were waiting for him, and he had just enough time to make himself presentable to welcome his mother home.

  Once she had grown strong enough to go walking on her own, mom had picked up the habit of going on long marches with her dog Amadeus. A mixed breed that Sal had gifted her a lifetime ago. She could walk freely now without the help of a rollator, but she still carried a cane just in case. She was dressed in a black dress, hiking boots, and a bowler hat. She had regained most of her former beauty but there was still a fragileness to her. Her skin was unusually pale, and her hair was grey as the moon. Almost like a ghost of the mother he remembered.

  When he got a caught a whiff of him Amadeus ran to greet him, and Nuncio let the dog lick his face.

  “Someone’s popular.” Mom said while hanging up her hat and cane.

  “Such is my curse. How was your walk?” Nuncio asked while petting Amadeus.

  “Never long enough for my liking.” Mom said and scratched Amadeus’s head: “I had to carry this lazy bum part of the way.”

  “Did she know?” Nuncio said cast a judging look at Amadeus.

  “It was a good warm up. I still need to lift some weights. Doctor’s orders.” Mom said.

  “Just don’t overdo it.” Nuncio said.

  “Welcome back, lady Capello.” Francesca said.

  Nuncio flinched when Francesca appeared behind him. At first glance Francesca looked gangly, but she could move without a sound and Nuncio had seen her lift sacks of potatoes most men would have struggled with without any visible effort.

  “Thank you, Francesca.” Mom said.

  “Dinner will be done in ninety minutes. Would you like any refreshments in the meantime?” Francesca asked.

  “No thank you. I will do my weight training before dinner.” Mom said and smiled at Nuncio: “It’s also good to see you have made yourself presentable again.”

  “I will see that Amadeus will be fed.” Francesca said but when she approached Amadeus, the dog hid behind mom and growled.

  “Naughty boy. Francesca is a friend.” Mom said.

  Mom’s tone was playful but… there was suspicion in her eyes.

  “I’ll do it. Lord knows I don’t have enough to do around here.” Nuncio said.

  Nuncio took Amadeus to the kitchen and filled his plate. He made Amadeus sit and wait before giving him permission to attack his plate with great enthusiasm.

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  “What do you see that I don’t, Amadeus?” Nuncio said to the dog while it ate.

  He could never place it but something about Francesca always gnawed at him. She had run Cassio’s household and had run it well. Hiring her had been an obvious choice… after the fire but… she made him uncomfortable. There were brief glimpses she gave him… occasional tension in the jaw… that made him think of a leopard ready to bounce.

  Suddenly Amadeus stopped wolfing down his food and growled. Nuncio almost jumped out of his skin when he realized that Francesca was standing behind him.

  “… Francesca?”

  “Lord Capello. I was just wondering if you wanted something for dessert. Ice cream perhaps.” Francesca said.

  “… no. Just tea, thank you.” Nuncio said.

  “It will be done.”

  Nuncio shivered when Francesca was gone, and Amadeus kept one eye at the door even while eating in case she came back.

  Mom had a rinse before dinner, and they ate alone. Nuncio had never felt comfortable sitting at the head of the table even though it was his place as the man of the house. The seat had always been reserved… for his father and Pietro Capello had never parted with anything willingly. Nuncio pushed the thought away and concentrated on eating and ignoring Amadeus who was begging for food at their feet. The grilled fish, sweet potatoes, mushrooms, and vegetables were excellent, as was the wine Emilia had picked.

  “Lord Corvo has invited me to attend his premiere.” Nuncio said and stared at his food: “I’ve… decided to go.”

  Mom smiled: “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “If you want to…” Nuncio said.

  “I think you’re old enough to go out without your mother.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “I mean… you won’t get lonely?”

  In response mom patted Amadeus’s head: “Amadeus will keep me company. Emilia too.”

  “And Francesca?”

  Mom leaned ever so closer to him and spoke in a hushed tone.

  “Walls have ears.” Mom said before continuing eating: “You should go and have fun.”

  “… fun…” Nuncio said.

  Mom looked at him worried: “Nuncio? Are you…?”

  Before he realized it, he was sobbing. Amadeus whimpered and rested his head on Nuncio’s lap and mom put her hand on his shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?” Mom said.

  Tears and snot were running down his face and made it hard to breathe: “… why… why does it have to hurt so much?”

  “Nuncio… my boy… I didn’t want to pry but… is this about Sal?” Mom asked.

  Nuncio could only nod and buried his face in his hands. He was too scared to face his mother and see what kind of judgement she would pass on him.

  “… please… please don’t hate me.” Nuncio cried.

  “Oh, Nuncio… my baby.” Mom said and hugged him: “How could I ever hate my baby boy? How could you even think that? I could never hate you.”

  Suddenly he was a child again crying in his mother’s arms. She had never fully recovered from what father had done to her but at that moment she felt stronger than all the evils in the world.

  “I’m sorry you had to find out like this but… pain… true pain is always the shadow of love.” Mom said.

  Mom held him until he had no more tears left and then helped him clean his face. He was so tired and drained but for the first time in a long time he could see himself feeling better one day. A day would come when he didn’t feel so… miserable. He tried forcing himself to eat but even then, he had to return most of his meal to the kitchen and mom assured Emilia the food had been lovely. After dinner mom escorted him to his room and poured him brandy.

  “Try to get some rest. If you need to talk, just knock. I stay up late these days.” Mom said.

  “… got it.” Nuncio said and hugged his mother: “Goodnight, mom.”

  “Goodnight, Nuncio.”

  Nuncio sat by the window while sipping his brandy. Mom… had not turned away in disgust even though she knew. Then again… when had mom ever given him reason to think she would have? She was an entirely different creature from her late husband. Why… had he kept this from her so long? All he had done was torture himself with doubt. His musings were interrupted when there was a knock at his door.

  “It’s open.” Nuncio said.

  Francesca stepped in carrying a sandwich on a plate and placed it by his desk.

  “I am sorry to bother you, but Emilia insisted you have some food near when you get hungry.” Francesca said.

  Nuncio looked at the sandwich and then bit in. Between the bread was mayonnaise, mustard, turkey, pickles, lettuce, tomato and a sprinkle of salt and pepper.

  “It’s good.” Nuncio said.

  “Those were lord Lionheart’s favorite. He was obsessed with what he ate. He designed his mansion’s menu personally.”

  Francesca showed no sign of leaving and she was too intimidating for Nuncio to ask her to go.

  “Really?” Nuncio said.

  “Really, really. He would always have an omelet made of egg whites and a bowl of berries for breakfast. For dinner? Vegetables, mushrooms and what he called lean meats. I thought it was all nonsense, but it worked. He must have had the fittest household in all Garuccia.” Francesca said: “It was only on Saturdays or when we had guests that we would indulge.”

  Nuncio hesitated before reaching for the brandy: “Francesca, would you like some brandy?”

  “You’re asking me to join you, lord Capello?”

  “I… Francesca… could you please not call me that? At least when we’re not alone. I hate it when Emilia does it. Please?”

  Francesca gave him a wry smile: “If you insist. Nuncio.”

  Nuncio poured Francesca a glass and refilled his.

  “What did Sal like to eat?” Nuncio asked.

  “He loved fruit and boiled eggs. He also preferred fish to meat. I guess it explains how he stayed so lean despite his… drinking habits. Because… my gods… I have never seen a man put away that much booze. He would have probably lived off brandy and cider if he could have.”

  “Yeah. I noticed.”

  Francesca stared at her reflection in the glass and the shadow of melancholy fell over her face.

  “He would sometimes ask me to join him for a drink like this.” Francesca said and looked out the window at the night sky: “He also loved the stars.”

  Nuncio sipped his brandy: “What about you? Did you… love… the stars?”

  Francesca gave him a strange look: “Not a very polite thing to ask from a lady. Even if she’s just a maid. But you did pour me a drink. He never asked me to marry him, but we did raise Emilia together. Take that how you will. Emilia… adored him. Do you know what it means to adore someone?”

  “You… like and love someone a lot?” Nuncio suggested.

  “Unconditionally. You love someone unconditionally. Sal could do no wrong in her eyes.” Francesca said and shook her head: “A terrible thing. You only set yourself to fail by adoring someone.”

  Francesca’s face grew colder.

  “I did not love him. Nor did I worship the ground lord Lionheart walked on. I saw them too clearly. Cassio was… a spoiled brat who thought that it was his right to rule the world and Sal… he sold his soul to serve a man like that.”

  Nuncio bit his lip and stood up. Francesca was a tall woman, but he was ever so slightly taller than her.

  “Sal lost his leg to my father and risked everything to save my mother. He was far from perfect, but you will not talk about him like that. Not while I’m here.”

  Francesca was taken aback by the steel in his voice and seemed to adjust her opinion of him: “I am sorry.”

  “It’s… fine. It’s fine.” Nuncio said.

  They drank in silence for a moment.

  “Nuncio?”

  “Yes?”

  “You are a good man but all this? It will corrupt you too eventually. It certainly corrupted Sal. This system… it changes you. It will happen so slowly you won’t even notice it.” Francesca said: “You lived under House Neri’s boot. Is this system really worth protecting?”

  Nuncio poured them more brandy.

  “How would someone fight against it?” Nuncio asked.

  Suddenly Amadeus started barking and Francesca looked out of the window. Nuncio peered out as well and could make out a figure approaching the manse.

  “Who is that?” Francesca said.

  “Maybe they’re lost.” Nuncio said.

  Francesca reached under her dress and pulled out a small revolver: “Or a bandit.”

  Nuncio bit his lip at the sight of the gun. Just looking at it made him think of the copper he had shot. The cop might have been an evil man, but he hadn’t wanted his blood on his hands. Nuncio picked up a lantern and headed to the hallway.

  “Let’s go see if they need help and please put the gun away.” Nuncio said.

  There was a knock at the front door and Emilia peeked out of her room dressed in a nightgown, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

  “… lord Capello?” Emilia said drowsily.

  “It’s okay, Emilia. Go back to sleep.” Nuncio said.

  Amadeus kept barking even after mom tried to calm him down while Nuncio and Elysa got to the lobby and Nuncio unbolted the door. When he opened the door, he was shocked to come face to face with Prospero de Ferro… and he saw half of his face being covered in fresh burns.

  “Prospero?” Nuncio said incredulously and stared at the burns: “What… what happened to you?”

  A cruel sneer that did not suit Prospero’s face spread on his lips and his eyes glowed yellow. Francesca pulled him away from the stranger wearing a friend’s face and emptied the revolver at their chest.

  ***

  Elysa lied on an operating table while Vincent the Curious tried to close the gaping wound where her arm had once been. One of the caveats that being a vampire was the ineffectiveness of painkillers. The best that could be done was to have someone get drunk on as much laudanum as they could muster and then have Elysa feed from them. The sensation that followed was much like being drunk but it faded fast.

  “Stay still if you would.” Vincent said while sewing her wound shut with the stretched-out skin.

  Elysa simply bit deeper into the piece of wood that had been given to her and suppressed the urge to cut Vincent open with her talons. Vincent the Curious… Vincent the Bastard. A monster that had almost killed her brother years ago and now a twist of fate had placed them on the same side. From what she had gathered, Vincent was past sixty but did not look a day over thirty. Like most Osetarians, he had blonde hair and beard. Travelling all over Garuccia and Osetaria had left him toned and muscular. His tan brought out the blue in his eyes but also made it difficult to hide how dead they were. The price he had paid for a piece of a high god’s power and knowledge. Once he was done, Vincent stepped back and admired his handiwork.

  “I have never operated on a vampire. It was very curious. Thank you.” Vincent said.

  Elysa spat out the block of wood that she had bitten almost in half: “Piss off.”

  “Could both of you shut up?” Livia snapped from the bed next to hers.

  Vincent had applied his skills to her first and sewn shut the cut in Livia’s stomach, leaving behind a scar that made it look like she’d had a cesarean section. Her broken teeth were already growing back, and she was using brandy to numb the pain.

  “I just left behind my lover and an entire garrison of my family’s soldiers.” Livia hissed at them and her forked tongue slipped out between her lips: “So you both better believe me when I say this. I am not in the mood for this shit.”

  Elysa bit her lip before reaching out to Livia and put her hand on her shoulder: “We’ll get him back.”

  “If Zagan’s reputation is true, Crow will already be dead. As will your family’s soldiers.” Vincent said while lighting a cigarette.

  Elysa and Livia shared a look and neither of them had ever agreed on anything harder than they did on Vincent at that moment. They shot the united power of their glare at him and Elysa was shocked that he didn’t catch fire on the spot. One of the many tattoos on Vincent’s skin started moving and a ghostly dog jumped out of his arm, ready to defend its master.

  “There, there, Cinder. I am sure my patients meant me no harm.” Vincent said and rubbed the head of his eerie familiar.

  Elysa sighed and then offered her hand as a sign of peace. Cinder hesitated for a moment but then started licking her hand. She did not know what ghosts bound to wizards were made of, but it tickled when one of them licked her.

  “If he’s dead then I will rip out Zagan’s heart through his throat.” Livia hissed.

  “I’ll help.” Elysa said and looked at her stump: “How long until this grows back?”

  “Until you bathe in the light of a full moon. That will fix you right up.” Vincent said.

  “My father could have done it sooner.” Elysa said.

  “Your father never hesitated to drink people down to the last drop.” Vincent said.

  Suddenly the door to Steelfort’s infirmary flew open and Cinder let out a whimper. Her Vicious Majesty had arrived. The skin she wore had belonged to a woman with black skin who had once sailed the seas as a pirate. She was tall and powerful and the sword hanging from her belt suited her well. The only sign of age on her was her grey hair and even in her human form, she could not hide her divinity. Her eyes burned bright and even a master vampire had difficulty meeting her gaze. Vincent kneeled when she entered.

  “My queen.” Vincent said.

  “Vincent.” The tiger queen said and looked at Elysa and Livia: “Niece.”

  “Auntie.” Livia said and tried to stand up, but the pain proved too much: “… son of a bitch… summon your armies. If Zagan wants war, I will give him war.”

  The tiger queen sighed and then turned her attention back to Vincent: “How is Viktor?”

  “He was distraught when he heard what happened to lord Ferro. I gave him some opium to help him sleep. He needs to also be careful with his leg.” Vincent said.

  “Good. I will…”

  “Auntie!” Livia screamed.

  The tiger queen closed her eyes and seemed to be praying for patience.

  “Yes, Livia?” The tiger queen said slowly.

  “Crow! The fucker has Crow! And I will get him back! If not him then his body! War!” Livia yelled.

  “We are not ready.” The tiger queen said.

  “Then get ready! Or I swear by the Wild that I will go to Oberon and…!” Livia yelled before catching herself and falling silent.

  The way the tiger queen was looking at her would have made the sun hide. She seemed to grow bigger until she filled the entire infirmary and Livia looked no more than an ant waiting for the boot to come down. Elysa bit her lip while Vincent kept smoking his cigarette, curious to see what would happen next.

  “… wait… auntie… I… the pain and the brandy… I didn’t mean to…” Livia whispered.

  “You dare to threaten me? You dare to risk a plan I have been working on for centuries? A plan that might be the only way to save Katarina from Gehenna? And you would throw all that away?” The tiger queen growled.

  Livia whimpered and Elysa forced herself to her feet. Even the act of getting out of bed with just one arm was a struggle. With just one arm, she stood between the tiger and the snake.

  “Your Vicious Majesty, she’s hurt, drunk, and scared. She would do anything to save Crow. Just like you would do anything to save Katarina… and the Baron.” Elysa said.

  The tiger queen didn’t say a word but seemed to shrink back to her normal size.

  “Well spoken.” The tiger queen said and sat heavily on one of the chairs in the sickbay.

  She took out a cigar, cut off the end with a knife and let Vincent light it for her. She took a few deep puffs before blowing out a smoke ring and looking at them.

  “I understand you, niece. Better than you know but never again threaten me.”

  Livia looked at the tiger queen sheepishly before nodding.

  “… yes, auntie.” Livia whispered but then her voice grew firmer: “But I will not abandon Crow. Not again.”

  “We can’t afford to abandon him.” Elysa said: “We would lose the Bone Flock Tribe and with them any chance of convincing the other goblins.”

  “I think that losing lord Ferro has been a heavier blow.” Vincent said.

  “This has been nothing but a cascade of fuck ups, hasn’t it?” The tiger queen said and blew out a dark cloud of smoke: “The only upside is that Oberon hasn’t caught on but if we keep losing allies like this it won’t matter.”

  “What do you suggest we do?” Elysa said.

  “I have been palavering with Karloff.” The tiger queen said.

  “The Baron?” Elysa said.

  “Yes. He came to me in a dream.” The tiger queen said and took Livia’s bottle and poured herself a shot of brandy: “He has a plan. One that involves you.”

  “Me?” Elysa said.

  “Yes. He has tasked you on dealing with Zagan.” The tiger queen said.

  “He wants me… to deal with Zagan?” Elysa said and bit her lip while pointing at her stump: “Did you see what he did to me?!”

  “He believes you have quite an incentive. Zagan has gone after your family.”

  The cold hand of dread reached into Elysa’s stomach and twisted her guts: “… what?”

  “Your brother is my fox nephew’s mate. Revenge by proxy.” The tiger queen said.

  “Was! Sal is dead! What the hell does he think this proves?!” Elysa screamed.

  “Zagan is the Infernal Emperor’s son. Cruelty is in his blood.” The tiger queen said: “I will task you with going after him. I recommend you start at Leoden.”

  “I am going too!” Livia said.

  “After threatening to expose us? I think not. I think you will stay here and earn back my trust.” The tiger queen said and looked at Elysa: “Get rest and meet me at night. I will see to it that you have everything you need.”

  The tiger queen nodded at Vincent who followed her like a loyal dog. Elysa and Livia were left alone. Elysa fell back on her bed and red tears filled her eyes.

  “… I… if I had been there… they wouldn’t have…”

  This time Livia reached over and squeezed her hand: “Go to them now. I know what it’s like… when your brother needs help and… thank you. For standing up for me.”

  “I guess that makes us even.” Elysa said and almost managed to smile.

  “Elysa Capello… you do this for me… save Crow and Perry… and we will be more than even.”

  When night came, Livia had managed to finally knock herself out with brandy but even then, she slept uneasily. Elysa threw an extra blanket on her and left the room. She could smell the tiger queen waiting for her and she was not someone you kept waiting. When they came face to face, the tiger queen nodded.

  “Follow me.”

  The tiger queen led her through the labyrinthine Steelfort, and they kept rising higher and higher until the air grew thin.

  “I understand your fear. I have lost much to devils.” The tiger queen said.

  “Then why… did you have to spook Livia like that?”

  “She needs to learn respect and restraint. She is too much like her fox cousin. Wild and excess incarnate.” The tiger queen said.

  “I’ve spotted some… similarities. What is it about goblins that drive skin-changers crazy?”

  “I would not know.” The tiger queen before looking at her over her shoulder: “You will learn one of the greatest secrets and I want you to swear solemnly that it will remain a secret.”

  “Okay?”

  “Swear it.”

  “I solemnly do swear by the Dark not to speak of this.”

  “Good.”

  The tiger queen took her to the highest tower in Steelfort, God’s Eye, where the Baron had built his altar centuries ago. An iron cradle made from broken swords and stones taken from conquered castles. It had always reminded Elysa of a hatched egg of some monstrous bird. Vincent was waiting for them and was dressed in a thick, fur-trimmed cape for warmth. He bowed at the tiger queen as a greeting, and she nodded at him.

  “Lie on the altar.” The tiger queen said.

  “Do I have to?” Elysa asked.

  “We need you whole and stronger.” The tiger queen said.

  Elysa glanced at the sky: “The moon is not full.”

  “It will be soon.” Vincent said.

  The tiger queen caressed the altar lovingly: “One day I will lay my Baron’s bones here and tear open the sky. Then he will live again.”

  ***

  Francesca lied in rubble and had to constantly press on her stomach to stop her intestines from spilling on to the floor. Only the Ratking’s Court’s training stopped her from passing out from the pain. She imagined the flaming hot center of her injuries and sealing it inside her fist. Her clothes were drenched in sweat, but she was shivering from a cold that reached to her bones. Amadeus lied dead in a pool of its own blood and the demon that had killed it had placed his foot on the dead animal’s ribs.

  “I thought this week was ruined but what do I find here? The fox prince’s baby sister and not one but two of his lovers.” The demon said before grinning: “Although you have seen better days. That’s what you get for putting up a fight.”

  Francesca spat bloody snot at the demon: “… let… Emilia… go.”

  “And not desecrate the last of the fox prince’s memory? I think not. I have been much wronged, witch.” The demon said and spread her legs with his foot: “You might not be much use for anyone in that state, but you have more holes than the one in your gut.”

  “… lay…a hand on me… or Emilia… and my death curse… is on you… curse of the Mountain upon you…”

  Threat of a death curse was enough to give the demon pause: “You think some hedge witch can threaten me?”

  “… you will… never again… take your… pleasures…”

  The demon stared at her and then lit a cigarette. To Francesca’s surprise he planted the cigarette between her lips.

  “The hedge witch drives a hard bargain. Fine. You gave me some entertainment. I grant you the honor of bleeding out alone.” The demon said and drew his scimitar: “Enjoy the rest of your life.”

  The demon slashed into the air with his scimitar and opened a way to the Portal System. The gateway closed behind him and once Francesca was sure he was gone, she concentrated on everything she had not to pass out from the pain when she stood up. The cigarette slipped out of her mouth, and she could feel her intestines moving. Trying to fall out. She kept pushing her insides back in while she limped one torturous step at a time to Nuncio’s study. To his phone. The mansion had turned into a battleground when she had used all her magical skills to stop the demon from taking Emilia… and the others. Against a lesser demon… she might have been able to win but against a devil… the highest rank of demonkind… her powers had not been enough.

  The phone was stained with blood when she dialed the number, and her insides coiled like snakes. The receiver weighed like a boulder in her hand when she held it to her ear.

  “… help… Capello manse…”