SOLUS. PEACOCK IN HELL

SOLUS

by Anton Strout

“Pixies! ”

The word echoed across the elevator on tiny wings of hope. Something had to kill the awkward silence between me and the man assigned the Herculean task of keeping me alive these days.

Connor Christos’s attention shifted from counting the passing floors. He gave me a sidelong glance meant to shut me down.

“No, ” he said.

Short. Curt. The pit of my stomach sank, and it wasn’t because of the motion of the rising elevator car. Breaking through to him was quickly becoming my personal pastime, my quest, the windmill-giant task to my question-jousting Don Quixote, but I fought to shake off my mounting failure.

“Gnomes? ” I tried next, undeterred. These damned Department of Extraordinary Affairs stuffed shirts would like me, dammit.

Connor’s eyes went back to the numbers on the wall, the display rolling through the seventies. “Uh-uh. ”

“Beholders? ”

My mentor paused for a moment before he answered and scratched his head, which only mussed the lone gray streak that ran through his otherwise sandy sea of hair.

“Not even sure what that is, ” he said. “But probably not. ”

“It’s from the Monster Manual, ” I offered.

He shrugged, the shoulders of his tan trench coat rustling in the silence of the elevator. “If that’s a new training pamphlet going around the office, I must have missed it. ”

I shook my head. “Not quite, ” I said. “It’s from D and D. ” Then, catching his blank stare in the mirrors of the door, “Dungeons and Dragons? ”

“Ahh, ” he said, his eyes lighting with recognition. “Well, don’t believe everything you read, kid. ”

His eyes shifted back to the ever-fascinating crawl of numbers as silence once more fell between us.

I took it as a small victory, if not a bitter one. I had hoped to impress. One of the perks of being a psychometrist was absorbing knowledge that I would have normally written off as useless. When I came across a used Dungeons & Dragons book a few weeks back, it gave me a chance to show Connor I had at least taken an interest in versing myself on a whole paranormal world I was unfamiliar with. As a new recruit in Manhattan’s Department of Extraordinary Affairs, I thought my initiative might earn me a pat on the back, but apparently not.

Frustration filled me right down to my nerves. How else was I supposed to learn the truth from pure fantasy out there on the supernatural streets of New York City anyway? So far in these first few days of partnership with Connor, the only thing I had learned was how to brood. If the Department quizzed me on how to be barely tolerated by a mentor, I’d easily have an A++.

I bit my tongue for the next several floors. It was clear Christos came predisposed to hating on me for reasons I could not fathom, and given my fruitlessness at finding out why, I instead took a moment to regain my composure before going back to my previous line of questioning.

“Mermaids? ” I asked, pressing my luck.

He sighed, turning to face me for the first time during our entire ride. Although his face didn’t look much older than my twenty-three years, his deep-set eyes held a lifetime of otherworldly horrors in them that aged him considerably when he met mine.

“Unconfirmed, at least not since early sailor records we keep down in the archives, ” he said. “Most agents write them off as the delusions of old-timey hard-core drinkers, victims of long-seabound scurvy, or possibly those stricken with a bit of syphilitic madness from their adventures when in port. If I were you, Mr. Canderous, I wouldn’t worry about those fishy ladies of the sea. You’re better off, though, assuming all fantasy creatures are real. ”

“I am? ” The idea that I’d need to memorize the totalities of the Monster Manual drove a mind-numbing spike straight down into the center of my brain.

Connor nodded. “One of the prime tenets of working for the Department of Extraordinary Affairs is Believing is seeing. Don’t rule anything out, because that’ll be right about the time that ruled-out monster eats your disbelieving face right off. Trust me on this. ”

“Okay, ” I said, paling at the thought, wanting to move the conversation on. “How about zombies, then? ”

“Also real, ” Connor said with a shudder. “You haven’t taken Shufflers and Shamblers yet? ”

I shook my head. “The department isn’t offering it until next month, ” I said. “Although I suppose I’m encouraged that they think I’ll survive on the streets until then. ”

“Typical Department of Extraordinary Affairs, ” Connor said, shaking his head. “Where keeping agents alive is job two. Or three. ”

“On-time training alone would cut the Incident Reports paperwork in half, ” I said.

Connor glanced over at me, annoyed again. “Are you trying to apply logic to our line of work, kid? ”

Kid. Did being twenty-three technically count as being a kid? Hell to the no, I thought, especially when coming from someone I guessed was in his mid-thirties. Before I could cut into him, my stomach lurched as the elevator slowed to a halt and its doors opened.

Wind. Strange that I could feel it as we stepped out, but it became clear immediately: we were on the very roof of the building itself. A set cobblestone path lay at my feet, and as odd and out of place as the stonework looked, it was nothing compared to the multispired stronghold that stood off across the vastness of the roof. If I were looking at a photo in front of me, I would have laughed at the cut-and-paste job of slapping an entire medieval structure onto the top of a modern Manhattan skyscraper, but seeing it there for myself struck me with awe instead.

“We have castles? ” I asked, trying to keep cool and mask the sheer wonder in my voice.

Connor nodded. “Where there’s money, there’s eccentricity. . . and castles. ”

My position as part of Other Division presented challenges every damned day, but processing an elaborate Disney-style castle jarred me in a way that the rooftops of Manhattan usually didn’t. Standing upon them often brought a strange comfort to my soul, or at least to the soul of my criminal past, anyway: casing joints, finding convenient escape routes. . .

Black, tarred weather sealant or concrete ruled the usual places I frequented. Stately sights such as this one rarely entered the picture.

“How do you even know about places like this? ” I asked, trying not to lick my lips at the promised opulence of it all. The criminal opportunist might be suppressed these days, but he definitely wasn’t dead.

“We’re the Department of Extraordinary Affairs, Simon, ” he said. “Dealing with places like this is the new norm. Extraordinary is right there in our name, and I think you’ll agree this fits the bill, no? ”

I nodded, a wicked grin spreading across my face. “I can’t believe this is my job. ”

“Technically, it isn’t, ” Connor said as he started walking away. “We’re off the clock on this one. ”

“We are? ” A tension released in me that I didn’t realize I had been holding in, and my shoulders relaxed. Trying to impress my partner/boss-of-me on the job was one thing, but knowing this wasn’t actually work helped take a real load off me. “Then why are we here? ”

“This? ” Connor said, stopping to point at the castle. “This is just a spot of fun. A bit of paying it forward, if you will. Consider it field training. Plus, if you screw up, we won’t end up generating an avalanche of paperwork back at the office. ”

“Such a vote of confidence, ” I said. “I’m touched. Really. So, again, why exactly are we here? ”

“You’ll see, ” Connor said, and continued off in the direction of the castle once more. “For now, just keep quiet. ”

I was all for paying it forward. Lord knows I had been selfish enough with my psychometric powers over the years—to the point of near jail time. Doing good for goodness’ sake felt like a calming bath meant to wash away the sins of my past, and my step lightened as the two of us crossed the roof.

The scale of the castle against the New York skyline made it seem deceptively close, but getting to it felt like forever. Only when we were near the stone steps leading up to an enormous set of dark wooden doors did I spy any signs of life nearby. A lone woman in a houndstooth suit sat next to a row of tree-lined planters at the top of the stairs, and only when our footsteps were in earshot did she look up from a laptop precariously balanced on her knees. The ponytail of her severely pulled-back black hair bobbed nervously as she fumbled to close her computer, shoving it into a hideous gigantic handbag sitting at her side.

She stood as we ascended the stairs, meeting us by the doors as she pulled her suit coat and trim of her skirt into a less wrinkled state and gave a nervous smile to Connor.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr. Christos, ” she said, almost at a whisper, her voice tinged with a little Brooklyn or Long Island.

“Of course, Bev, ” Connor said. He rapped his knuckles against the solid stone archway of the door. “Time is of the essence and all that. I know how precious your commission is to you. ”

“Hey! ” she said, with a little mock offense to it. “That hurts. ”

“The truth usually does, ” Connor said as he looked up at the building. “I can only imagine what state the place must be in for you to have called. ”

The woman nodded. “The Sedgwick Estate is a landmark catch for any Realtor, carefully brought here by the family nearly a century ago from England and painstakingly reconstructed. There is little like it in all of New York, I assure you. The estate sale of one Agatha Sedgwick was going well until. . . ”

The Realtor stopped herself as words failed to form on her lips and her eyes drifted from the doors to the ground. Just what the hell had happened here?

After a moment, she regained her composure and smoothed down the lapels of her suit coat once more. “Still, there’s enough damage already to bring the value down considerably. As it stands, the repairs will be astronomical. I mean, you can’t just look up castle construction with the District Council of Carpenters. ”

“So this is actually a real castle? ” I blurted out. “Does it come complete with a dungeon? ”

The woman’s face screwed up, and she looked over to me for the first time.

Connor’s gaze shot daggers, killing any further questions. I reminded myself to listen next time when my mentor told me to stay quiet.

“Sorry about my partner, ” he said, his face softening as he turned back to the woman. “Beverly Rodell, this is my new partner, Simon Canderous. ”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Ms. Svenson is retired, then? ”

Connor’s face went blank, a familiar coldness in it. “Something like that. ”

Had this Ms. Svenson been his previous partner? Getting anything personal out of him had so far proven harder than finding a cab at one minute past five, and it seemed Beverly Rodell’s mention of the woman caused him to shut down the way he often did with me. The same sort of silence I had experienced alone with him in the elevator fell over the three of us. I needed to break its spell.

“So, is this place a real castle, and does it have a dungeon? ” I repeated.

“Yes, it’s real, ” the woman said, looking relieved that we were back on track with solving whatever her problem was. “And yes, there’s a dungeon. Racks and all. The Sedgwicks may have been eccentrics, but they were detail-oriented ones at that. A prominent New England family. Some of the New York–based clan took their pride more seriously than others, it seems, and moved their ancestral estate from England to here, stone by stone. ”

I couldn’t help but smile at that, which only drew another look of disdain from Connor.

“Forgive Simon, ” he said. “He’s a bit excitable. . . in a new-puppy-about-to-pee-on-the-floor kind of way. ”

“I’m mostly house-trained, ” I countered, unable to stop myself.

Connor turned with the same glare on his face, but the woman touched his arm, drawing his attention back to her.

“He can be whatever he likes to be, as long as you can take care of, ” Beverly said, gesturing to the Sedgwick estate, “all this. ”

Connor waved her toward the door. “Then by all means, lead on. ”

The woman shook her head, her face going a sickly shade of green usually reserved for cartoon witches. “I’d rather not. I barely believe in this hoodoo of yours in the first place, but I don’t think my heart could bear to watch this place destroyed any further. I was nearly beaten to death in the main library by a flurry of books flying from the shelves. Thankfully, I didn’t escape through the kitchen. The scullery would have left me in bloody pieces on the floor. ”

“We’ll keep damage to a minimum, ” Connor assured her, then glanced over at me. “Well, at least one of us will, anyway. ”

I fought the urge to protest, and instead pulled my jacket closed over the retractable bat that hung from my belt within. I had no plan to draw it unless absolutely necessary.

“See that you do, ” the Realtor said, and headed down the steps toward the elevator off on the far side of the roof. “I’ll be at the bar across the street, awaiting the damage report. It is highly unlikely that I will be sober. ”

The sound of Beverly’s heels rang out as she carefully descended the castle stairs, but once on the open roof, her feet quickened to the point that I thought she might break out in a full-on high-heeled sprint for the elevator leading back down to street level.

Once the Realtor was gone, I turned to Connor, suddenly unable to control a burst of anger I found welling up inside of me.

“An estate sale? ” I spat out while also breaking into a sweat. “You brought me, of all people, to an estate sale? ”

Connor stared, nonplussed, his eyes burning through my head. “Is that problematic? ”

I nodded so hard I feared my head would fall off. I imagined it rolling across the roof, bouncing over the edge, and falling down into the streets of Manhattan. “This entire place is going to be brimming with psychometrically charged material. Estate sales always are, more so, I imagine, in a friggin’ castle! ”

“So? ”

“Not sure I can handle going into such a place, ” I admitted, though it pained me to do so. I was pretty sure telling your superior that you couldn’t quite hack it in the paranormal-investigation business was the opposite of impressing him. In fact, it felt a hell of a lot like failure in my ongoing struggle to fit in with the department’s Other Division. Maybe if I could make him understand. . .

“Old landmarkish places like this are always filled with a psychometric energy that matches their rich history, ” I explained. I wiped the sweat of my trepidation from my brow. “A place like this is the atomic bomb of power drains. Sorry. ”

Connor’s eyes fell upon me, and much like Frodo under the gaze of Sauron, the judgment and disappointment in them was almost too much to bear. To my surprise, however, he gave a skeptical half smile. “Were you ever a Boy Scout? ”

“What? ” I asked, thrown. “What does that have to do with anything? ”

“Plenty, ” he said. “You could learn a lot from them, you know. ”

“Aren’t I Boy Scout enough, just being part of the Department of Extraordinary Affairs? ”

“Fine, then, ” Connor said, holding up one finger. “What’s the Scout motto? ”

I stopped and searched my mind with the random turn the conversation had just taken, struggling for a moment until it came to me. “Be prepared? ”

“Be prepared, ” Connor said with a nod. “Well, are you? ”

“For what? ” I asked with building frustration. “I didn’t even know where we were going! ”

“That shouldn’t matter, ” he said, adopting a bit of the training tone his voice took when he attempted to drill something into my brain. “This is New York City. It’s an old town, relatively speaking. Everything here is potentially charged with rich history, right? So I can assume you’ve loaded up on Life Savers to keep your sugar up, yes? ”

“To a point, ” I said, my nerves creeping into my voice. “But come on! You brought me to a castle. You think I’m prepared for that level of potential power use? Maybe if I stuffed my pockets full of Life Savers—hell, even wore bandoliers of them—”

“You still think you’d probably drop from the blood-sugar drain of your psychometry going out of control in there? Really? ”

I sighed as I thought out how to best explain it to someone who hadn’t had to live with my power. “Half the reason I joined the Department of Extraordinary Affairs was to avoid situations like this, Connor. I can’t always tell when or if a psychometric vision will kick in when I touch an object, and when it does, the preternatural price my body pays to do so is high. It’s not a hypoglycemia-inducing condition I can really talk to a normal doctor about, you know? How the hell do you expect me to keep it in check in this place? I’ll lose control. ”

Connor shrugged, turning to take in the massive doors in front of us, silent sentinels guarding the mysteries within.

“Then don’t lose control, ” he said with a tight-lipped smile. “Simple. ”

I sighed, a sharp, staccato exhale. “You’re supposed to help me, you know, ” I reminded him, “not kill me. ”

“Think of it as tough love, ” he said. He examined the iron rings that hung from the doors themselves.

I shook my head. “Worst. Teacher. Ever. ”

“That’s Other Division for you, ” he said. “Trial by fire. ”

My mentor pulled the iron ring, and the door gave a long, slow creak as it cracked open. He let go of the ring and headed in.

“Other Division, ” I grumbled as I watched him disappear into the darkness within. I resisted my knee-jerk urge to tell Connor in a swear-laden fashion what I really thought of being assigned to the office equivalent of the Island of Misfit Toys.

I followed my mentor/partner into what looked like the King’s Landing feast hall set from Game of Thrones. By Manhattan standards, its area certainly beat most loft spaces and one-bedrooms easily, by a factor of at least a thousand. Spacious to the nth degree, fit for either a festive dinner or competitive jousting.

Tapestries depicting unicorns in all manner of poses covered almost every inch of the walls. Medieval weapons of every size and shape hung alongside. Suits of armor—some mounted troops, even—sat displayed around the vast open space. Our footsteps echoed throughout the great hall, as if in a museum.

“Quick follow-up from the elevator, ” I said when I could finally take my eyes from the mythological-beast tapestries. “Unicorns. Real? ”

Connor held out his hand and waggled it back and forth in a gesture of uncertainty. “Not officially, ” he said. “Not on the books, anyway. The archives have been trying to reclassify the existence of creatures documented before the past century. Might be a while before they confirm their existence. You know how much paperwork the DEA generates, so who knows? ”

I took in the grandeur of the room, struck with an awe and reverence for the lives of all those who had passed through here over the centuries, long before this structure had been transported to Manhattan.

“So what the hell are we actually looking for? ” I asked.

“You tell me, kid. Why do you think we came here? ”

I shrugged, my eyes drifting back up to the tapestries all around us. “I dunno, ” I said. “Zombies? Ghouls? Taking down a unicorn fight club, maybe? ”

Connor’s face went stern, his brow furrowed, and then he pointed at his forehead in what I thought was a gesture for me to use my brain, but I discarded that notion when my eyes fell on the gray streak in Connor’s sandy brown hair.

“Ghosts, ” I said, acknowledging the sure sign of his having been touched by one previously. “We’ve got a ghost sitch here, don’t we? ”

Connor touched the gray streak itself, acknowledging with the gesture that I was indeed right. “There’s hope for you yet, kid. ”

“Not for getting a streak of gray all my own, I hope. ” It had been an adjustment learning how to handle the types of spirits Connor took in stride as his area of expertise. Years of training had built a callus over him, one that made him impervious to the plights, pains, and restlessness of these earthbound souls, but for me it was hard to ignore. Maybe it was years of psychometrically exposing the intimate details of other’s lives—experiencing them firsthand—that left my empathy dialed up to eleven, but there was little I could do to change that about myself. The knob on my emotional amplifier had snapped off years ago, stuck there. Instead, I worried about the things that I could hopefully control, and ran my fingers though my jet-black hair as I wondered how it would look with a ghost stripe like Connor’s.

“Just don’t let any of the deceased clan Sedgwick pass through you, ” he said as if reading my mind. He moved into the great hall to scope it out. “Remember your training. If a ghost passes through you, it’s going to feel like your entire body is being pressed through a sieve, leaving you unconscious after you scream in pain and pass out. Who knows what’ll happen once they have you down? ”

“Are you sure I don’t get to punch the time clock on this? ” I asked, fanning off to the far side of the hall. I couldn’t hide the nerves in my voice. There was so much stuff here in the way of antiques, so much potential for my powers to go into overdrive.

“Relax, kid, ” Connor’s voice echoed out. “This should be good for you, especially with your particular skills. ”

“It’s easy for you to relax, ” I said. “You touch something in here and you won’t end up flopping on the floor like a goddamned fish gasping for breath. ”

“You’ve got your gloves on, ” Connor said, pointing to my hands. “So I stick with my initial statement: relax. Besides, you might score something. ”

I stopped and cocked my head at him, unable to ignore the hint of disdain in his last sentence.

“Excuse me, ” I called out after him, “but what the hell was that about? ”

Connor stopped and looked over at me, his face a blank mask. “What? ”

“I might score something? ” I said, repeating back to him as I locked eyes and refused to look away.

Connor broke eye contact first. “Just don’t touch anything—okay, kid? ”

I stopped, holding up my right hand. I waggled the black leather fingers of my glove at him. “Yes, sir. I didn’t realize we had a problem. Sir. ”

“Just keep your hands to yourself, ” he repeated, this time with open toxicity in it.

I couldn’t hold back. “What’s this all about, Connor? What’s your problem with me? ”

“The Inspectre told me all about you and your past, ” he said.

My stomach clenched. “He did? ”

“You think I’m going to partner up with someone new without knowing the score? ” he asked with a laugh. “A former art thief is still an art thief in my book, kid. ”

“So that’s what this is all about, ” I said. “My criminal past. First of all, it was more of a personal hobby than a career path, really. . . . ”

“Hobby, eh? Just a patron of the arts, then? How noble! ”

I felt the blush of red rising in my cheeks, and hated how I felt I needed to justify my past to him. The lack of trust and compassion knotted my stomach, a sensation I was more than familiar with after years of social awkwardness while sorting out how to control my power.

“Listen, ” I said. “You don’t grow up with a power like mine and not fall in love with arts and antiques, okay? Especially in New York City. And I admit that knowing the secret histories of their creation is a delicious drug all its own. ”

“I’ll bet, ” Connor said, disapproval thick in those two words. “A city like this? A veritable gold mine when it comes to them, right? Entirely understandable. ”

I wanted to shake the condescension out of him. “I’m no saint, ” I admitted. “Sure, I may have occasionally helped myself to a nugget or two, but I wouldn’t call that being a habitual recidivist. People can change. Show some compassion. ”

“Right, ” he said, drawing the word out, but there was no conviction in it. “Look. I need to know I can trust you, especially while we’re trying to hash out what is happening here that’s got Bev so spooked. For now, just keep your hands to yourself. ”

“You do know what the word former in former art thief means, right? ”

I locked eyes with him, then slowly stuck out my hand in defiance and rapped my knuckles hard on one of the nearby suits of armor.

Connor started for me in a straight line across the room. “You do know what the words don’t touch anything mean, right? ”

“I am former, ” I shouted at him as he got closer. “Criminal-wise, short of using my power to nail some choice antiques for my apartment. One too many brushes with the law and working with other, unreliable, bat-shit-crazy thieves will do that to a guy, you know? ”

Apparently, he didn’t know, and kept charging me. I refused to back down.

His hand clamped over mine as he pulled me away from the armor. Even as covered up as I was by my leather jacket and gloves, the gesture exposed my wrist, and the electric crackle of my power kicking in slammed hard into my mind’s eye before I could stop it.

Psychometric flashes from an inert object were one thing, but direct contact with a living person was another, the pained mental equivalent of forcing a bowling ball through the pinhole of my mind. My eyes and brain felt physically sucked out of my body and slammed into those of my partner; flashes and glimpses of his past flickered in bursts among my own thoughts. Driven by the agitation and trust issues he clearly had with me, I bent my focus toward anything connected to his own personal issues.

The narrow halls of a dark, abandoned school filled my mind’s eye, all of it through Connor’s perception, as if I were piloting him. While he had often refused to even mention his previous partner in Other Division, the woman in her late forties or early fifties who stood at Connor’s side amid a sea of what looked like the living dead was no doubt her. Because I was Connor, her name came to me. Evelyn Svenson.

Her wild mane of graying hair swung around as if in its own personal hurricane while she fought off a horde of zombies at his side in the close quarters of the school halls. Connor was holding his own, using a child’s tiny school chair to stave off the attacks, but it was clear the numbers were against the two of them.

Evelyn sensed their looming doom, as well. As the vision’s time rolled into slow motion, she slid her leg behind Connor’s, forcing him to the ground as she stepped past him and ran down the still-clear hallway behind them.

“Sorry, ” she said with a grim smile. “Svenson’s rule thirty-four of the zombie apocalypse: I don’t have to be the fastest runner to survive. I only have to be faster than you. ” She turned and, without a second look, left Connor to the zombie horde descending upon him.

My mind’s eye flickered as the undead closed in, reality forcing its way back in through the vision. Given my usual difficulty in pulling myself out of such visions, it surprised me, but what I found even more surprising as the real world took hold of me once again was the violence with which I was being slapped around.

“Snap out of it, kid, ” Connor called out, his open hand connecting with a sharp sting on the side of my face.

“We’re in a slap fight, are we? ” I said, weak from the short but intense psychometric burst.

“I’m not fighting you, ” he insisted, grabbing me by the lapels of my jacket. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry. ”

“Fish? ” I mumbled, still in a haze. I reached for the Life Savers in my pocket to reduce my vision-induced blood-sugar loss.

The vision. I shuddered, recalling with perfect, horrifying clarity Connor’s betrayal by his old partner.

“I’m sorry about using my power on you, ” I said, apology thick in my voice. “I didn’t mean to. How did you escape those zombie hordes? ”

Connor’s face went awash with shock, either from the toll my vision had taken on him or from having his past poked and prodded straight out of his private thoughts.

“You can thank New York’s shitty building codes for that, ” he said. “Condemned building, that many bodies converging in on one section of the hallway. . . The floor gave out. I barely got out of there alive. My partner, not so much. Her treachery and escape didn’t go quite as planned. ”

“No? ”

Connor shook his head. “She didn’t make it out of the building, ” he said. “Next time I saw her, two floors down, I had to chop off her head when she tried to tear my throat out. ”

I paused, fighting to find words of apology but unable to. For invading his mind, for my behavior in the face of his trust issues.

“I’m sorry, ” I finally managed to get out, but Connor was already backing away from me across the width of the great hall.

“Save it for later, ” he said. “Let’s just see how you fare keeping us alive. Hopefully a lot better than my previous partner, anyway. ”

“Huh? ” I asked, shaking the last of the cobwebs of fuzziness off my brain.

A cacophony rose from somewhere in the great hall, but at the moment, all I could barely manage to focus on was Connor.

He spread his arms, indicating the rest of the hall, and I managed to finally shift my attention to it.

All around us the room had sprung to life. Or, rather, all the inanimate objects had. Suits of armor shook and clanked on their pedestals. The tapestries all around the hall fluttered with the wind of an unseen force, the weapons on display twisting and swirling around on their wall mounts.

I shook my head at the spectacle of it all. “Effing ghosts, ” I muttered.

“Effing ghosts is right, ” Connor said. “Probably a whole lineage of familial haunts or else disquiet victims of the owners of this damned castle—I’d bet my reputation on it. ” Connor looked out into the center of the chaos, cleared his throat, and addressed no one thing in particular.

“Attention, ” he shouted. “I’m Connor Christos, a registered member of Other Division of New York City’s Department of Extraordinary Affairs. I’m ordering you to cease and desist with any and all supernatural operations that may endanger myself or my partner, one Simon Canderous. ”

When the crazy around us faltered and died down, relief filled my heart, but only for a second.

Much to my great personal dismay, the cacophony rose again, redoubling as the agitation in the room became more and more palpable. At the far end of the great hall, the terrifying whinny of a horse echoed. My eyes darted in its direction just in time to catch sight of the disembodied armor of a grand steed rearing up on its hind legs, a mounted knight astride it with lance raised to the heavens. The steed’s invisible hooves came down with a thunderous crack on the stone floor of the room, followed by a shuffling canter in a half circle as it decided which of us to charge, which didn’t take long.

Me.

Of course.

“Thanks for pointing me out to the dead guy on the horse, Connor, ” I called out. “You’re a real pal. ”

“Think nothing of it, ” Connor said, stepping further back from me. “Just trying to vest you with the authority of your station. Try not to die. Think of the paperwork it would cause me. ”

Whether he was kidding or not, I welcomed the distraction of his banter in the heat of the battle. A little levity went a long way in our line of work, if only for sanity’s sake.

“I know death is always an option, ” I said, not sure which way I should dodge, “but I never considered jousting as the way I go out. ”

The armored steed trotted in place for a moment, invisible legs working behind the armor strapped to them. The knight upon it spurred his mount forward with the metallic clank of his heels. Like a terrifying medieval tank, it charged forward at a breakneck pace. Sheer fright overtook me, but luckily the first rule drilled into me during Other Division training kicked in.

When in doubt, run.

I turned and my legs pistoned into action, carrying me down the length of the hall, the space so massive that I could really give it my all as I tore off. Faster and faster I pushed myself, legs burning, but with every step the sound of the charge grew ever closer. I didn’t dare chance a look back. All I could hope for was to keep going to the end of the hall. By then it would be too late for my foe to course correct, overcommitting the horse’s hefty weight to forward momentum.

I threw myself against the wall in front of me, spinning around at the last second so my back took the blow, pain exploding across my shoulders.

The knight loomed even closer than I had imagined, leaving me little time to react. My pulse rose in my throat as if my heart were trying to escape. With few options in mind or at hand, I gave a quick, desperate roll to my right, crouching myself as tightly as I could in the corner of the room.

The point of the lance pierced the wall where I had stood nanoseconds ago, sticking there like a giant dart as the horse and knight plowed hopelessly into the wall itself. The suit of armor remained intact, collapsing to the floor like a rag doll, but the components of the steed’s armor did not, and flew off in every direction like so much shrapnel from a war movie. With barely time to take the scene in, I raised my arms just as a large piece of the barding slammed into me, and I tumbled back onto the pile of disassembled horse armor behind me.

“You okay, kid? ” Connor called out from the far side of the room.

“Think so, ” I said as I tried to right myself, and checked for damage while stumbling my way noisily out of the piled pieces. “Nothing feels broken, if we’re talking bones. Only thing really hurt is maybe my pride. That was a bit less than graceful. ”

“Grace is overrated, ” Connor said, walking over and offering a hand to help me out of the armor at my feet. “You’re alive. I’d call that a win. ”

Clanking arose behind me, the sound like that of a car crashing. Pieces of the now-lifeless horse armor were being shoved aside from beneath as the dismounted knight rose from the pile. A weary sigh escaped my lips and I turned back to Connor, looking for some guidance.

“Hey, mentor, ” I said. “Start menting! ”

“That’s not a word, ” he said, and reached into his trench coat, searching within. His hand emerged a moment later with a stoppered vial in it. Pulling out its top, he wound up like a pitcher on the mound and aimed directly where I stood.

“Get down! ” he shouted.

Even though it meant throwing myself back onto the pile of armor, I did as Connor instructed. As the vial lobbed overhead and hit its target, the smell of patchouli filled my nostrils, gagging me as a noxious brown cloud spread out and swirled up around the figure of the knight. Once enveloped, the creature struggled against the invisible confines of the containment cloud, but his efforts were in vain.

Connor gestured toward the containment cloud. “Care to do the honors? ”

“Batter up, ” I said with a nod, and stood, pulling the retractable bat from my belt. I keyed my password sequence into its button pad and it snickted to extension, assuming the size and shape of a full-sized bat. I cocked it back into a stance Babe Ruth would have been proud of, and swung for the fences at our captured foe. The bat hit with a clatter, then went through the figure. The knight came apart on impact, his helm rolling across the great hall like a disturbing runaway gutter ball at a bowling alley.

“Huh! ” I said, and gestured at his scattered but clearly empty pieces. “Nobody home. ”

“Don’t be too sure, ” Connor said, pointing past me.

I turned, hoping the armor wasn’t reassembling itself, which, to my relief, it wasn’t. In fact, everything looked normal behind me, much of the earlier chaos having died down.

That was, until I noticed the walls. Subtle at first, they shivered with movement as the weapons along them shook and clanged, struggling to break free from their mountings. Pops and snaps of metal tearing free from the stone echoed throughout the great hall, drifts of powdered castle walls wafting down onto the floor.

“I suggest we find less dangerous quarters, ” Connor said as he took off, but not before grabbing my arm and dragging me along behind him.

Blades and blunt instruments tore free and shot after us. I pulled free from my mentor’s grip, fell in step next to him, and bolted past. Score one for youth!

Scanning the great hall, I changed my course. Most of the doorways leading out were arched, but only one housed heavy wooden doors, and that was now my new target. Connor followed as I ran for it, ducking and lurching out of harm’s way as various weapons flew through the air after us.

Once through the open doors, it took all my strength of will to not slam them shut before Connor caught up, even more so with the variety of deadly projectiles chasing after him. I stood at the ready, watching as Connor—trench coat flapping out behind him like a superhero’s cape—ran, dove, and slid into the room. Several of the pursuant weapons shot overhead, thunking into the heavy doors as I slammed them shut.

I turned and threw my weight against it to hold them closed, while Connor scrambled to his feet.

“Might want to rethink that, kid, ” he said.

The doors were thick, but how thick I hadn’t been sure, and, as if to prove Connor’s point, a dull pain pushed against my back at a singular point. Pulling away, I spun, craning my neck to see the leather of my jacket torn where it had acted as armor, stopping a blade tip that now poked through the door.

I spread my arms wide and pressed my hands against the door, cautious of any other blades that might work their way through.

Connor joined me, taking over one of the doors.

“We need answers, ” he said. “Now! Trying to contain one of those spirits didn’t lessen our problem. ”

The sounds of attack on the door increased, as if a thousand hands were pounding away at it.

“The Sedgwick family is pissed, ” he continued. “And if we can’t wrap our minds around the why of it, we stand little chance of releasing them. So, gloves off, Simon. ”

In my haste to exit the great hall, I hadn’t taken in my new surroundings. As I turned, brightness blinded me. The noonday sun and the New York skyline greeted me through great glass walls that made up a sizable open atrium. Glass shelves lined every wall all the way to the highest heights of the ceiling. On every last one of them were hundreds of tiny glass animals of every size and color.

A single animal, I realized.

Unicorns.

Connor whistled, taking in the collection from where he held the door shut. “Jesus. This isn’t just the last unicorn; this is all the unicorns. Creepy. ”

“No, ” I said, something familiar sparking inside of me that I couldn’t quite place. “This is an obsession. A true collection. ”

I needed to know more, and before I had completed the thought, my gloves were off. Every piece had a distinct look, an odd charm all its own, but it took no time to spot the most prized item. A raised pedestal at the center of the atrium held a piece that clearly occupied a place of honor. I approached it, my hand not even touching it yet, and I could already feel the crackle of psychometric power radiating from it.

I scooped it up. Rearing up in motionless beauty, the carved glass figure, its mane and tail awhirl in flowing waves, was coursing with exquisite action.

I focused on the unicorn in my hand, and the world around me fell away as my mind’s eye flooded once again with the images of another.

I expected to see the family Sedgwick, but instead flashes of a lonely blond girl filled my brain, a mix of shyness with the childish enthusiasm of a ten-year-old. Books of fantasy lined the shelves of a vast library I had yet to see inside this castle, all of them lovingly pored over through the years by this girl. The exuberance of her love for the fantastical shone out into every aspect of her life—images of her costumed as elves, knights, and wizards flew through my mind’s eye, the girl taking on all the roles from those fantastical tales.

The vision shifted into a fast-forward of the young woman’s life. She aged from a girl into a teenager, but this love of hers never waned, not even when trying to socialize herself into a public-school setting. Instead, her fixation only drew stares and whispered insults that snaked their way into her ears.

Hagetha, they called the young Agatha Sedgwick, a name not welcomed, a dark spike in an otherwise beautiful, fragile heart.

A blackness filled her, a slow and silent rage wormed its way into her, her family choosing to educate her at home away from the taunts and jeers, making this only child more and more the shut-in, her only lonely solace taking form in her collection of glass, one of the few things she allowed herself to find joy in. Here, in her menagerie of unicorns, there was a comfort, and as I watched through the vision as she aged into an old woman, her collection grew, but so too did her loneliness.

The bittersweet sorrow of her soul filled my own heart with a great and swelling pain.

As the psychometric vision died, the profound pain didn’t, and I awoke experiencing what riding a mechanical bull must feel like—or a real bull, for that matter. My very being seemed stuck in my own personal earthquake as I struggled to shake off my postvision haze, unable to fathom just what the hell was going on around me.

It was possible—as my mind cleared a bit—that it might have something to do with the long glass spear sticking out of my chest.

My heart raced as I feared being run clean through, but the very fact that my heart could race was proof positive that I probably hadn’t been.

I had been impaled, though, but only through the soft area of my jacket, in the space between my torso and underarm.

I pulled it out and slumped to the floor. Already I was fishing for the Life Savers in my pockets, cramming half a roll in my mouth at a time to counter my shaking dizziness.

Somewhere off behind me the crash of breaking glass filled my ears over and over while I waited for my sugar to rise. I managed to roll myself over like an infant, only to discover Connor holding my bat at the ready and going toe to hoof with what had impaled me.

Most of the shelves in the atrium were now bare, their contents joined together in one multicolored, one-horned creature that was larger than life.

“Great, ” I managed to croak out. “No one told me we’d be dealing with enchanted battle unicorns. ”

“Unicorns aren’t so cute now, are they? ” Connor called out, bringing my bat down on it. A section of the creature’s neck tore off, its component pieces flying away. Even as they hit the floor, the unicorn’s neck started to re-form, many of the damaged pieces flowing back to rejoin the creature.

“Stop hitting it! ” I shouted after a quick assessment. “You’re only giving it more broken and jagged pieces to jab at us with. ”

“So, what? ” Connor asked, annoyed. “We just let family Sedgwick run us through with their pet? ”

Focusing on what I had psychometrically seen and all I had felt from the vision, I tried to piece together the puzzle of Agatha Sedgwick from what I knew.

“It’s not the whole family, ” I said. “It’s just one person, and I don’t think she’s trying to kill us. ”

Connor backed away from the glass creature and handed my bat back to me as he helped me up off the floor, jabbing a finger at the torn hole in my jacket.

“You sure about that, kid? ”

He let go and started off across the atrium, giving the glass monstrosity more than a single target to choose from.

I nodded. “I think so, ” I said. “I think we’re dealing only with the most recently deceased, Agatha Sedgwick. Killing us is just sort of an inadvertent by-product of her intent. ”

Connor looked back to me with both eyebrows raised. “Meaning? ”

“I think she’s throwing a tantrum. It’s just a mix of the rage, frustration, and confusion she felt from her life. ”

“That might make some sort of sense, ” Connor said. The unicorn turned its newly re-formed horn in his direction. “Lingering feelings from the living can get a bit amplified after death. Ghosts have a tendency to go over the top. The question is, What’s she so angry about? ”

The horn jabbed at Connor. He shrugged his trench coat off his shoulders and brandished it at the unicorn like some sort of urban matador.

“Whatever its motivation, ” he continued, “it’s too pissed off for me to contain it or ghost-whisper it out of crazy time. ”

Legs still shaking, I moved toward the creature. Fighting every instinct I had to flee, I tapped my bat on the tiled floor.

“Hey! ” I shouted, hoping to draw the creature’s attention. When it didn’t respond, I chose a different tack. “Hey, Hagetha. ”

It whirled around so hard that pieces flew from its formidable form. The cold, dead eyes of the creature found me as it briskly stomped its way across the room toward me. I raised my bat, simply to have something between the two of us to calm my nerves.

“That’s what they called you, isn’t it? ” I asked. “Those who mocked you. ”

The creature stopped, hesitating as it shuffled in place with a great grinding of glass.

“That was life, Agatha, ” I said. “And that time is over. No one can hurt you now. ”

The glass unicorn cocked its head at me and, lowering its horn in my direction, the tip catching the very end of my extended bat, slowly circled the whole of it as if we were fencing and she were doing an envelopment.

“I understand you, ” I said. “I really do. I get it. ”

I raced the words out as fast as I could. Hopefully, I could finish before the creature changed its mind and decided to ram its stabby end through me.

“I get you, ” I said to her. “Because I’m your kind. I’ve spent my life alone, always on the outside. ” I held my hand out to the creature. Moving with care, it inched closer to my touch, and just as the crackle of my power began to kick in, I pulled my hand back. “I’ve seen your life, Agatha. I know your loneliness. This ‘gift’ of mine has been more a curse than a blessing. It’s who I am, and I can barely control it. It’s done nothing but ruin every relationship I’ve ever tried to have. Every person I’ve ever tried to get close to has had their secret histories revealed to me almost against my will. I know awkward. If my life’s been anything, it has been nothing but. ”

I slid my gloves back on and stepped toward the massive glass animal.

“They called you Hagetha, ” I said, running my gloved hand down the creature’s neck. It pressed back against me gently. “Just like they called me a criminal. But I’m more than a word. One word does not define me, nor does it define you. Let your spirit rest, Agatha. Let yourself go. There will be a better place, where you’ll be among your kind. Whatever there is out there, I have to believe it is a better world than this, one filled with like-minded souls who love what you love, with just as much passion and with the openness that you craved in life. Me? I’ve found my tribe. ” I looked to Connor, who watched me in stunned silence. “My partner here and the people we work for are the kind who can help me. You can be with yours too. ”

Connor turned away. Maybe he felt a little bad about browbeating me as a criminal earlier, but I wasn’t worried about what he thought at the moment. This was about Agatha.

I dropped my hand from the unicorn’s neck and picked up the original unicorn I had scooped up earlier. I hesitated as I watched the light of day shine through it. It would be easy enough to simply slip it into my pocket—a memento of this kindred spirit’s soul—but after lingering a moment longer on it, I strode across the atrium and returned it to the pedestal at the center of the room.

“Go, ” I said again. “It will be better. It has to be. ”

The piecemeal creature stood to its fullest height, an impressive display of pride. Sunlight shone through it like a prism, filling the room with a thousand shafts of multicolored light going off in every direction. Then, one by one, the menagerie came apart, its pieces falling to the ground.

Glass tinkled like chimes on the wind, a euphoric sound, but as the last of them joined the rest in the pile on the floor, a bittersweet ache filled my heart.

I stood in silence before Connor edged toward the pile, gently prodding it with the tip of his shoe.

“This house is clean, ” Connor said, in one the worst little-old-lady-from-Poltergeist impressions I had ever heard. “Good job, kid. You reminded me that this isn’t just about busting ghosts. Didn’t know you felt so strongly about a heaven. ”

I shrugged. “I don’t know if I do, ” I said, “but I know there has to be somewhere better to go for a spirit like her. ”

Connor nodded, then gestured toward the doors, pulling one of them open to reveal swords, spears, and knives sticking out of it like pins from a cushion.

“Let’s hope so, kid, ” he said.

I gave the broken menagerie one last, lingering look, tried to settle my soul, and headed out the doors. “So where do they go? ”

Connor shrugged as he stepped into the quiet of the great hall. “We’re bound to find out, ” he said. “And being Other Division, probably sooner rather than later. ”

“At least we won’t die from paperwork on this one, ” I said, trying to shake off my melancholy mood.

I knew there was clear proof of hope for me and my powers, a chance to fit, to redeem myself, to be less of an outsider. But what the hell did I know of the afterlife I had promised Agatha?

“Score one for freelancing, ” Connor said.

I stopped in the middle of the great hall. “But seriously. . . Where do we go? ”

“The poet Robert Louis Stevenson once said ‘To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, ’” Connor said, leaving me behind as he headed toward the doors leading out. “The version of the great ever-after you sold Agatha on sounded nice to me. What’s wrong with that one? ”

“But what’s the real answer? ”

“Does it matter? ” He turned back, some of that old, familiar annoyance on his face again. “Like I said, we’ll find out soon enough. The lifes pan of the average Department of Extraordinary Affairs agent is at least seven years shorter than that of the average New Yorker. ”

He turned and walked off. I sighed, starting after him, hoping I’d fare better than the average agent, if only to prove to him that, like Agatha, I was not defined by one word, that there was a chance for me to find peace among my own.

Although looking at the rampant destruction of art, armor, and tapestries all around me, I wanted to cry.

“Sometimes I miss my life of crime, ” I muttered to myself, and headed off after Connor.

I guess the things we were—the things we are—never truly die. I had to believe it, and I held to the tiny winged hope that I had sent the last occupant of this castle to a place where it was true. If not for her sake, then at least for mine.

PEACOCK IN HELL

by Kat Richardson

They’d fled into a cul-de-sac where a wall built of eternally tormented bodies of the damned moaned and writhed on three sides, rising toward the billowing fire of the sky for at least thirty meters. Peacock turned back with her knives at the ready, but the only thing still behind her was Lennie Redmayne. He was as dark skinned and blood covered as any hellhound, but he was the spoils, not the spoiler. She flicked smoking ichor off her baneforged blades, and they gave off an eerie green glow before she sheathed them. Then she pushed against the wall to test its stability.

The wall shrieked from all its mouths as she touched it. Redmayne jumped and spun in panic, his thin dreadlocks swinging and spattering gore against the rampart and Peacock. “The bloody hell is that? ” he croaked. His voice hadn’t recovered much yet—years of screaming in agony weren’t repaired in an hour.

“Lost souls, ” Peacock replied. “Just the garden variety—nothing fancy like you. Pile up like garbage here. ” She ignored the blood now streaking her messily cropped blond hair and disappearing into the surface of her red leather garments as she studied the barrier for a moment. “We’ll have to climb. ”

Redmayne goggled at her. “Climb. . . that? It’s undead bodies as far as the eye can see! ”

Peacock shrugged. “It’ll be a little slippery, but there’re plenty of handholds. Not too bad, unless you put your hands or feet in their mouths—that could get messy. ”

“Fucking hell, ” Redmayne muttered.

“Where else did you think you were? ”

“Smartarse. ” He was healing quickly—his voice more South London gutter and less advanced case of throat cancer now.

Peacock grinned. “Sometimes. Up you go, ” she added, and crouched, offering Redmayne a leg up. He was a few years older and nearly a head taller, but he was thin and couldn’t weigh much in his current condition, though physics didn’t always function normally here.

He glanced between her and the wall with his singed eyebrows raised in horrified bemusement. “Me? ”

“Unless you’d rather be tail-end Charlie. We stay down here, those hellspawn will find us. I don’t see any other way out that doesn’t put us back where we came from. Frankly, I prefer the climb. ”

“Bugger, ” Redmayne grumbled, and put his bare foot into her open hands.

His naked and savaged groin was uncomfortably close. Peacock closed her eyes and turned her head aside. “Don’t get any idea that I’m enjoying this, ” she said as she hefted him upward with a mild grunt. “The view’s not spectacular. ”

“Sod off. ” He sank his hands and off-side foot into the wall’s bleeding flesh. “It in’t you who’s had his skin peeled off in strips every day for eternity. ”

“Don’t be melodramatic. It’s only been eight years. ”

“I’d tell you to go to hell, but as we’re already here. . . ”

She chuckled as she pulled the crimson hood over her light-colored hair and then scrambled up below him. “Think brutal thoughts, Redmayne—it keeps me going. ”

“I am. I’m just thinking ’em out loud. ”

Peacock rolled her eyes.

The damned shifted and howled as Peacock and Redmayne hauled themselves upward until the noise became background. They climbed for unmarked hours wrapped in the stink of blood and bones and brimstone. Their motions became mechanical—tug from one hand- or foothold, sink into the next, and on and up, on and up. . . .

Teeth bit into Peacock’s foot, and she jerked free to drive her boot heel into the dead thing’s head. As she glanced down, Redmayne’s foot flailed past her face. She jammed her toe into the wall, anchored herself deep in unseen flesh and bones with one hand, and looked up. “Careful, ” she said while grabbing his loose heel with her free hand. “You don’t want to fall now. ” She pulled in tight against the grotesque wall to keep her hold and didn’t flinch as teeth gnawed at her leathers.

“What? You think it would hurt? I’m fucking dead, mate. ”

She held steady until he got his foot planted in the grim cliff again; then she pulled loose from the hungry dead and continued upward. “You know that there’s worse can happen. Only hellspawn and lords can die here—for fairly weird definitions of ‘die, ’ that is. ”

“And you know this how, Miss Peacock? ”

“I’ve been here before. ”

“You’re dead? ”

“At least mostly dead—pretty much the only way to get here. ”

She remembered falling. She even remembered hitting the ground, though some other details were fuzzy now.

Run. . . Just run like hell. She’d bolted across the rooftop, vaulting the vents and dodging behind any available cover. They’re back there and gaining.

She’d glanced over her shoulder as she’d run and spotted the men behind her. Holy shit. . . That can’t be. . . . Her recollection was foggy, but the roof’s edge had been coming up and she’d burst desperately for it. She’d dug her toes into the graveled surface and pushed off. . . .

But she’d stumbled, or the parapet was slippery and she’d launched wrong. She’d flailed and smashed against the next building with her full force. Pain bloomed in her chest and back. Then she’d slid down. . . .

The giant terra-cotta faces around the upper story had projected her out into empty air, and she’d tumbled down without control. Only three stories, but enough to smash her like a ripe plum.

“Answers how you got here, but not why. ”

Peacock shook off her memory. “What? ” she asked.

Redmayne kept climbing, but called down, “I’m asking why you, in particular, are pulling my raggedy arse out of Hell. ”

“Because Peter Fiore wanted you filched out of Hell, which would take the best thief in the business. And that’s me. ”

“You? Work for that bastard? ”

“Whether I like it or not. ”

“He heads up the Directorate of Occult Incursion Control now, yeah? ”

“Thaumaturge in Chief, ” Peacock replied. “But that begs the question: What does he want with you? ”

Redmayne scoffed. “Couldn’t just call him Lord High Inquisitor, could they? Right. So. . . I’m an artificer—was at any rate. Worked with him at DOIC back in the day. ”

“Jesus. . . ”

“Watch it. ”

“Things must be worse than I thought if he’s fishing guys like you up from the pit. ”

“Guy like me—singular. No more left, living or dead. That’s my ‘get out of Hell free’ card. ”

“Free I can’t manage—Fiore owns me, ” she added, bitterly. “I’m taking you straight to him as soon as we’re on the other side. ”

“Well, that’s proper fucked, in’t it? ”

“Proper as it comes. ”

They climbed in silence a while.

“Hey, you got any other name? ”

“Peacock. ”

“A first name, wisearse. ”

“Why do you want to know? ” she asked.

“As you’re half-dead and I’m all dead, and we’ve both worked with Peter Fiore, I was thinking we might have a few other things in common. I’ll trade you a bit of magical blackmail for it. ”

“I already know your first name, so that’s not gonna wash. ”

“Nah, this is better—secret about me no one but me mum knows. C’mon. . . it’s worth it. I promise. ”

Peacock considered the offer for a couple of meters. “You ever call me by it, I’ll shove you back down this cliff and let you make your own way up. ”

“Deal. ”

“It’s Emily Anne. ”

“Peacock suits you better. I’m Lennie. ”

“Yeah, I know. ”

“Lennie Redmayne must be retrieved. I can’t send an army into the Nether to get him, so it’ll have to be done by stealth. Which is exactly the sort of job I hired you for. ”

“One of which got me killed. ” Peacock looked at him askance. “Thanks for the reminder. ”

Peter Fiore was a big guy, bald and white-bearded, and he was good at intimidation, but Peacock wasn’t having any. Once you’ve been dead, your shit-taking limit drops way down, even with master mages.

Fiore narrowed his cold gray eyes at her. “Don’t blame me for your mistakes. I had to scrape you off a sidewalk, Peacock, so I don’t see where you have much cause to complain. I gave you that power—”

“I already had the veil talent. That’s why I’m the best thief in the country. ”

“Best in the worlds, now, ” Fiore added. “And that you do owe to me. Along with the fact that you’re up and breathing. ”

Peacock snorted. “Breathing. . . in a manner of speaking. ”

Fiore shook his head. “Don’t get bitter, Emily. Would you rather I’d abandoned your broken body in that alley? I don’t leave my assets behind—even if I have to raise them from the dead. ”

“Asset. ” You smug bastard. Time to change the subject, before she gave into her continual urge to throat-punch him. “This Redmayne—he’s one of yours? ”

“One of us, ” Fiore corrected, and glanced away. He wasn’t capable of embarrassment, so it might have been remorse. “And yes, he was. ”

“I notice you didn’t raise him from the dead, O mighty necromancer. ”

He cast a glare back at her. “I didn’t have that option. ”

“What’s so important about him that I have to go to Hell to get him back? ”

“That’s not something I can tell you. You know how this works. Just remember: There’s a reason he is where he is and you can’t trust what the damned tell you. ”

Peacock rolled her eyes. Like we aren’t all damned. Fiore was laying it on thick, but she couldn’t refuse; he was the only person who had the literal power of life and death over her and, bitching aside, she’d rather have the former than the latter, even if it required putting up with Fiore.

“All right, I’ll go get him. Where am I gonna find your tortured soul? Hell’s a big place. ”

“Are you familiar with Dante? ”

“Not really. ”

“Good, because he only got close. ”

“Is this secret what got you sent down here? ” Peacock asked.

“No, I— Oi! I think we made it! ” Redmayne kicked and disappeared over the cliff top, as if he were swimming away into the cinder and flame of Hell’s sky. Then he choked back a scream.

Something nasty up there. . . Peacock hauled herself over the last of the damned and onto the upper surface. Her left palm sizzled on something hot, but there was no place else to put her hands. She sucked her breath through her teeth and endured the searing until she’d cleared the drop-off. Then she got to her feet and searched for Redmayne.

Beyond the crumbling edge, the land was as black and gritty as an ancient stovetop. Intense heat and the reek of burning iron rose from it. Peacock spotted Redmayne a few meters away. He whimpered in pain as he stumbled toward a line of low gray mounds and scattered rubble nearby, leaving burned footprints on the dark surface. Peacock’s leathers and boots smoked as she jogged forward and grabbed him. She wasn’t strong enough to carry him, but she could tug one of his arms over her shoulders and get him to cooler ground quicker.

She dumped him on rotting stone in the shadowed slope of a chalky mound. Then she crouched near him and studied the area.

Redmayne crawled away from the heat of the iron ground and huddled on his backside, watching her. “Your cheek’s burnt, ” he said.

Peacock held up her palms without turning her attention. “Yeah. These, too, ” she said. “But not as bad as you. I think we’ve got a little breathing room now, so long as nothing flies by and spots us before we’re healed up enough to move. ”

Satisfied with what she saw, Peacock sat back against the stones and turned to Redmayne. “How are you doing on that score? ”

He glanced down at himself. “Major bits are coming along, but the surface is still a bit tatty. Burns didn’t help. ”

Peacock just nodded.

“You think we’re safe? I mean. . . don’t you think that outfit stands out a bit? ”

“Have you noticed the color scheme around here? We blend right in. And red’s a short wavelength. The hellspawn don’t see in color, so it just looks gray to them—same as most of this place. You’re dark to begin with, and with those wounds you look like any other forsaken soul out here. Now, if a lord passes by, that could be a problem, but only for as long as it takes me to kill it. ” She paused, thinking. “Actually, that might be a good thing. Since lords aren’t he or she, they just wear armor and draped cloth. You could wear the cloth like a toga or something. ”

Redmayne lay back against the dusty scree and closed his eyes. “Well, there’s a silver lining to everything, in’t there? ”

Peacock chuckled.

“Glad someone’s finding humor in this, ” Redmayne grumbled.

“So far, you’re the most amusing thing I’ve ever stolen. And you owe me a secret. ”

“Yeah, I do. First I gotta ask, you work for Fiore voluntarily? ”

“No. It was supposed to be one contract. It turned into. . . something else. ”

Redmayne looked her over and tugged thoughtfully on one of his locs. “So, the thing is. . . I got this funny talent—”

“Artificer. ”

“Not just that one, ” he said, and held up two fingers.

“You’re bi-talented? Well, that’s not so rare that I’d call it ‘funny. . . . ’” She trailed off as he shook his head.

“I’m a mimic, ” he said. “It’s not something I want most people to know about. Jealous bunch, Talents. Don’t like other people borrowing their stuff. ”

“How does it work? Clearly you don’t just touch somebody and get their powers. ”

“Yeah, it’s not that simple. There’s got to be blood contact, see, and I only get a copy of the other person’s magic for a little while. But it’s still like having it full power, so I get the downsides just as hard. Magical Engineering doesn’t play well with some talents—’specially not death and destruction. It’s like coupling matter to antimatter. ”

“That would suck. But you haven’t picked up mine, and we’ve certainly passed blood contact by now. ”

“It don’t work here. No one changes in Hell—trust me, I tried. You can cast an illusion—”

“But they don’t work on ’spawn or lords. ”

“So, you have talents. ”

“Just the one—I can veil—but mostly I rely on my regular skills. Best in the business. ”

Redmayne sat up and studied her. “A true veil, not just a light-bend? ”

Peacock shrugged. “Sure. I can look like someone else or I can look like nothing at all, but it’d be a waste of energy here. ”

“You act like it’s nothing, ” he said, looking astonished. “Veil’s rare and can’t be duplicated in any sort of artifact. ”

Just like an engineer—always thinking about the toys. She rolled her eyes, then glanced around and shifted her weight onto her feet again. “We’d better get moving. It’s a long way to the exit. ”

“Something wrong? ”

“Nothing specific, but you talk too much, and we’ve had too much grace. ”

“Expecting the next shoe to drop, yeah? ”

Peacock nodded. “Uh-huh. ” She picked up a handful of incinerated stone and crumbled it. The dust stuck to her burned skin.

Redmayne winced at the sight as he crawled to his feet. “Whyn’t you wear gloves or something? ”

“Can’t feel through gloves. Besides, all damage heals here. That’s how eternal torment works—you grow back together so they can take you apart over and over. ”

“Yeah, I noticed. ”

Peacock started forward without further comment.

After a few steps, Redmayne said, “With your talent, you could lose me anytime you like. ”

She sighed. “Why would I come down here and pull you out of a pile of flesh-tearing hellhounds just to dump you? ”

Redmayne offered a bitter smile. “It’s all about the torture, in’t it? And what’s worse than hope? ”

That was almost amusing, and she let go of half a smile. “’Spawn can’t anchor a talent, so. . . what? ” She drew the mental veil over herself, formless and reflective, and flickered out of view. He gaped, and she chuckled from within her illusion. “You think I’m a hell lord in disguise? ”

A shadow moved over them with a thunderclap. Peacock let her talent fall away, and they both dove for cover as a lord descended. It was three or four meters tall, human in form, but winged and monstrous. The crown of Peacock’s head would have barely come to its sternum if they stood toe-to-toe. The lord’s incomplete black armor didn’t reflect the fiery sky, and its crimson drapery flowed in the air like blood in water.

“Fucking hell, ” Redmayne cursed.

“Secondus, ” Peacock said, and drew her baneforged knives. “Could be worse. Run diagonally from its line of attack and stay out of the way. ”

She stood tall and faced the lord with both the eerie green blades held low. She wasn’t an assassin, but she’d picked up a few tricks.

“Fugitive souls, ” the hell lord rumbled. It wheeled and folded its wings, rushing forward with the momentum of its fall.

Redmayne fled toward a nearby pile of rock.

Peacock ran toward the lord and ducked. She swept the blades outward as it passed over her. The knives jerked in her hands, and she dug in against the backward drag as blades cut moving flesh.

The hell lord roared and flipped a wingtip, pivoting to keep Peacock in sight as it landed. Ichor sprayed from its wounded backward knees, and it staggered left, its foot twisting a little. Got you! Peacock danced aside. The lord swiped at her, and she slashed. The creature jerked back a hair too late. A talon as long as her hand clattered to the iron ground and slid toward Redmayne. Not so fucking invincible against these, are you? The lord raised its sliced hand in surprise.

Peacock leapt at its weak side. She planted one foot hard on its injured knee and vaulted upward. She reversed the near blade and shoved it toward the lord’s armpit with a downward swing. The creature twisted and swept its elbow down, knocking Peacock aside.

She rolled across the searing ground as the hell lord screamed; then she flipped to her feet and faced it. Her blade stuck out below the mark, sunk only half its length into the lord’s side. Smoking ichor poured from the wound, but the monster was still on its feet.

Peacock’s cheek was blistered from the heat, and her remaining blade steamed with gore. She spotted Redmayne scuttling onto the burned earth to snatch up the severed claw. “Leave it, you idiot! ” she yelled. Gonna be the hard way, I guess. “Back me! ”

The lord turned toward Redmayne, and Peacock threw herself forward. The creature whirled around, snapping out a wing with taloned tips that raked across her chest and throat.

The blow spun Peacock into the air, and blood fanned from the slash across her neck. She hit the ground and sprawled onto her back in a twisted heap, carmine blood running across the black plain in wide swaths. The wounded hell lord bounded toward her. Redmayne started after it with the dismembered claw clutched in his hands.

Her memory was much more clear now: She had glanced over her shoulder as the roof edge loomed, and maybe it was the action or maybe it was the sight of familiar faces that had made her miscalculate the leap. . . .

But Peacock figured it was the bullet that had been shot into her back.

The lord bent unsteadily over Peacock, laughing in spite of its running wounds. It drew back its uninjured hand to strike.

Redmayne leapt onto its back and stabbed it with its own severed claw. The talon didn’t sink in deep, but it did pierce the lord’s armor, and a narrow stream of ichor squirted into the air. The lord shrieked and shook out its wings to dislodge Redmayne, sending a gust of hot air booming forth.

Peacock spasmed, her head lolling and wobbling as the wound in her throat began to close. She rolled to her knees and flipped her blade upward, then lunged, shoving it hilt-deep into the hell lord’s gut below the edge of its breastplate. She pushed with both hands until the pommel rang against the metal, then ripped sideways and down with the weight of her own falling body. The blade tore through the hell lord’s hide to the scarlet sash that wrapped the mailed kilt around its hips. The infernal creature collapsed as its guts spilled out onto the smoking field.

Peacock lay trapped under the dead hell lord, gasping and blinking. Damn, but it stinks.

Redmayne danced from one burning foot to the other as he shoved the creature aside. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, ” he said as Peacock wriggled free.

Her exposed skin was crisply blackened by the time she reached the nearest rocky ridge, and her leathers were badly singed. She flopped into the crumbling stone and coughed on pain and dust as her wounds closed and her skin resolved from ash to flesh. Redmayne hunched nearby with the hell lord’s claw in his hand. When she caught her breath, Peacock beckoned him to her.

Redmayne crept close and bent down, and Peacock punched him in the face. “You set me up. ”

He landed on his back. “No! ”

Peacock knelt over him. “Bullshit! You’re an artificer. You knew my drawing the veil would send out a ripple. A hell lord won’t attack another of its own kind without provocation. You really thought I was one of them! You figured that one would fly on by—”

“That’s a bloody-minded assumption you’re making, sunshine. ”

“It was a lousy trick to pull on me, sunshine, ” Peacock spat back. “I ought to leave you here to scream your guts out for the rest of eternity! ”

Redmayne scowled. “Fiore wouldn’t like that. ”

“Don’t you lecture me on what that scheming bastard would or wouldn’t— Oh. . . damn it all, ” she added, winding down in disgust. “I need to get you out of here, or I’ll never get a shot at him. ” She rested on her heels.

Redmayne struggled to sit up. “Who? Fiore? He’s betrayed you, hasn’t he? Bloody good at that, he is. ”

She peered at him. “He screwed you over, too. ”

Redmayne avoided her gaze. “Let’s say we didn’t part friends. ”

She studied at him a minute or so longer and then sat down, crushing handfuls of fragile, baked stone and rubbing the dust into her oozing skin.

“Why d’you do that? ” Redmayne asked as he watched her intently. He was less eviscerated, but still a bit flayed and gnawed.

“I don’t like to drip. And, crazy as it sounds, it seems to speed up healing. You could use a little yourself. ”

“Should take some out of here with us, then, ” he said, but he didn’t follow her example.

“It’s tricky getting native things out of Hell. You’re going to have to leave that. ” She pointed at the claw.

“Hah! You barmy? This, my stealthy friend, is pure artifact gold and worth what it took to get it. ” He waved the talon. “I’d rather stay here and dodge hellspawn than leave it behind. ”

“Seriously? ”

“I’d take my chances, ” he replied, his expression grim.

“Why? ”

He gave her an odd smile. “You ever seen one of these things in the breathing world? ”

“No. ”

“Useful, these are—at least if you’re someone like me. Almost indestructible out in the world, and, since it’s hellbound, it has a positive yen to return from whence it came, or send other things in its place. ”

“Literally? ” she asked. Redmayne nodded. Peacock glanced at the gutted hell lord and shuddered. “Good thing it’s dead. ”

“Who says they stay dead? ” Redmayne asked.

“I jammed a foot of baneforged steel into its guts. I’ve never seen anything get up from that. ”

“How many lords have you killed? ”

“That makes two—but I admit I didn’t stick around the last time. ”

Redmayne’s smile was sly.

Peacock scowled at him and growled, “There goes my exit plan. ”

“You really had one? ”

“Of course. I never go in without having at least two exits. But neither of my escape routes accounted for bringing anything along besides you and me. Even my blades were gonna stay behind. ”

“There’s other doors between the worlds, if we can find one down here. ”

“It’ll have to be a wide one, which means the hellborn probably already know about it. I’ll have to check the map, ” Peacock said, and dug into a pocket hidden under one of her scabbards. She drew out a wisp of gauze that gleamed with tiny points of colored light.

Redmayne gaped at her. “You have the Liminal Map? ”

“I have part of the map. I stole it. ”

“You’re a fly one. ”

“I’m a thief. ”

“Where’d you enter? ”

“New Straitsville, Ohio. There’s a coal mine that’s been burning there for more than a hundred years. Closest superposition to where I found you. Easy in, but it’s a flesh lock on the way out. Now shut up and let me look—this thing’s hard to see. ”

Redmayne put out his hand. “Let me. ”

Peacock wasn’t sure she could trust him, but he couldn’t get far without her—and the hell lord’s clothes—so she handed over the bit of ethereal fabric.

“This looks familiar. ” He glanced down at his still-ragged body. “That’ll do. ” He laid the map against a strip of raw flesh on his chest. The map dissolved, and Redmayne sucked his breath through clenched teeth.

“What the—” Peacock started.

“Hang on, ” he gasped. “It’s coming. . . . ”

The map gleamed into sight as a tattoo of living silver sparked with tiny gems. It was as clear as printing, and when Redmayne moved, it adjusted its north by his position.

“Well, fuck me, ” Peacock murmured.

“Likes a bit of flesh and blood, this thing. ”

She grinned. “How’d you know? ”

Redmayne cocked a sarcastic eyebrow. “Artificer. How’d you think? ”

“You made this map? ”

He scoffed. “Nah. Nobody made it. Compiled over centuries. Happens, though, that I did work on this bit right here, ” he said, and poked one glittering portal marker. “Never used it, but should be a good door—unless a lot more has changed than I imagined. ”

The broad portal was closer than Peacock had feared and less protected. The Netherworld was riddled with caves here, and she crouched with Redmayne in the mouth of one while studying the landscape.

“You sure this is right? ” she asked.

“Course it’s right. The map can’t lie, and we’re”—he pushed aside the tunic they’d made from the dead lord’s blood-red draperies and pointed at the bright star that seemed to shine on his chest—“right here. Practically on top of it. ”

Redmayne had bound his feet with more cloth and made a sort of pack from armor parts; he’d filled it with the lord’s claw and other things he deemed useful. While he’d never pass as a lord on visual inspection, he certainly smelled like Hell.

Peacock shook her head. “There’s no sign of a guard, aside from a couple of wandering ’spawn, or that the portal’s in use at all. I can’t even see it. ”

“It’s there. Trust me. ” He squinted in pain. “This little bugger burns. ”

“It’s just. . . something’s funny. You’re certain? ”

Redmayne heaved an exasperated sigh. “Look, mate, I want out of Hell as much as you do. I count m’self bloody lucky it’s you got sent to retrieve me, and I’m not gonna ditch you. I used to be on the side of the angels, and Fiore always thought whatever he did was justified if it kept the darkness back, but it’s not. Some things are evil, simple as that. It’s no accident I’m down here—I damned m’self. I did things and knew I’d end right here—”

Peacock raised a hand. “Hush! There, by that steam fissure in the hillside, there’s a gleam, ” she whispered. “See where that ’spawn’s digging? ”

“Yeah. That’s the liminal point. It’s a transverse. ”

“A what? ”

“Passes through Limbo and changes orientation. Nasty trip, but it’ll get us out in one piece, and the lower orders of hellborn can’t follow. Must be a bit of odd there. ”

“Probably why that ’spawn’s so interested. Have to get rid of it before it attracts attention. ” She checked position of all the ’spawn in view. “All right. You need to be close, so follow me until I turn, then wait. ”

“Wait—” he started.

She ignored him and slipped out into the shadow.

She tucked tight and ran along the wall’s base. She avoided the hellspawn’s sight until she reached its blind spot. Then she turned sharply, keeping directly behind the creature, and dashed across the open space toward it and the crevice. She spotted a few more ’spawn wandering farther out on the plain where it flattened to hot iron. They might not see her, but they could hear and smell better than any dog. They’d come running if the hellspawn by the portal howled.

Peacock timed her leap and came down on the hellspawn’s back with one blade out, sweeping forward and under its elongated jaw. She sliced through its throat before it could make a sound and fell on top of it.

She breathed a long sigh of relief and glanced back. Redmayne was right where she’d told him to be. She waved him forward and turned her attention to the other ’spawn. They hadn’t turned toward the rock face. At least not yet.

Redmayne tiptoed a path to her side and crouched. She reached for the portal’s gleam, and he snatched her hand away. “No. We’re not done here. ”

Peacock growled at him.

He released her hand. “Tried to tell you earlier. Soon’s we’re through that door, things change. You have to cut this bit of the map out of me chest first. It’ll want to stay there ever after otherwise, and I’d not like that. ”

She was appalled. “You’re kidding. ”

“Wish I were. Now, quick, before that lot takes note of us. ”

“Have you got anything sharp and stabbity in that pack? ” she asked.

“Whyn’t you use your knife? ”

“Baneforged. Wounds don’t heal. ”

“Right. Bugger. ”

Redmayne unslung the pack and rummaged through it until he found a sharp bit of armor scale. He handed it over to Peacock and cast a nervous glance toward the hellspawn. “Just nick the edge and tear it out. That’ll have to do. ”

Peacock winced. “That’s gonna hurt. ”

“No doubt. ”

She’d been able to hear him from a long distance before she’d found him. “We’d better be ready to jump, ” she said.

“Put your back to the cleft—that’ll be easiest. ”

She turned, and the portal leaked a cold wind along her shoulders. Redmayne gripped his pack with both hands, squeezed his eyes shut, and grimaced in anticipation. He was silent as she sliced the edge of the Liminal Map free and caught it in her fingers. She yanked.

Redmayne shrieked, arching in agony.

The hellspawn turned as a body and raced toward them, raising a clatter on the iron ground like a hailstorm. Something roared and Peacock shot a glance toward it. Clouds seemed to boil both overhead and across the searing plain. Monstrous faces resolved from the fiery sky and rushed into shape as they fell upon the two fugitives. Lords and hellspawn by the hundreds.

She threw herself back against the portal.

It resisted.

“Shit. Redmayne—”

He lurched forward, the pack falling into her lap as he bowed over her and thrust his hands into the rift. Blood spattered and ran onto her face. Amid the howls of incoming hellborn, she could barely hear him spit out a word that shook the rock face behind her.

They fell though the portal and the screams of Hell’s fury cut short in suffocating silence. Redmayne twisted and caught one hand in the closing portal.

Limbo was a luminous gray nothingness. Two streaks of light—one red, one gold—showed in Peacock’s vision as she glanced side to side.

“D’you hear that? ” Redmayne asked.

“I don’t hear anything. ”

Redmayne flickered as he crouched beside the thin red line. “Bloody hell. Fiore, you bastard, ” he whispered. His voice was hoarse and trembling.

“Holy crap, Redmayne, ” Peacock muttered. “What are you doing? ”

“Bleeding and holding on. ”

She reached for the infernal rocks in Redmayne’s pack. “You’re not gonna heal like you do in Hell. ”

“Don’t! ” He slapped her hand aside. “We’ve only got minutes before we’re back in the lion’s den. Could you put a finger here? Any one will do perfectly fine. ”

Peacock flipped him the bird, and he shoved her hand into the fiery light. It burned against her flesh and seemed to gnaw on her digit.

“For the love of everything, don’t move, ” Redmayne said. “Open your suit and give me one of your blades. ”

“Over your dead body. ”

Redmayne snorted. “Later, mate. Look, I know these are the worst of circumstances, but you have got to trust me. Fiore’s a right bastard, and he doesn’t mean either of us any good. You don’t imagine he’s dragging me back to play tiddlywinks, do you? ”

“No. ”

“Then listen. Back in the day, I didn’t just work with Fiore; I was his boss. The ambitious little prick didn’t like that, and had plans to put me under his boot same as you are. We needed a necromancer and I couldn’t get rid of him, so I damned m’self, and took a hard way down so he couldn’t drag me back by blood and fire. With my funny talent, you can imagine how that would have gone. Fiore wants to make this homecoming hurt, and I’ve a mind to deny him that pleasure, but Limbo’s the only place my plan can work. Straight truth: I need you or we’re neither one of us coming up for air. So, what’s it gonna be? Time’s almost up. ”

She grinned, and Redmayne shivered at the sight. “Oh, I’m in. ”

The carmine light whirled away and she tumbled through the nothing. They were torn apart, tossed, and spat out.

Peacock lurched into a smoking cavern and sprawled on the floor. Both her knives, the map, and the pack’s contents were scattered around her, but Redmayne was gone. She yanked up her suit zipper and gathered the junk Redmayne had collected. She didn’t even consider running—there was nowhere to go that Fiore couldn’t follow, except Hell itself, and she wasn’t ready to return to that venue just yet. She had other things to do.

She hiked out and found a retrieval team waiting for her in the fuming bowl of a West Virginia hillside—another unending coal-mine fire. And there was Redmayne, held by two goons, bound in silver and still wounded. Pallor turned his dark skin gray where it wasn’t abraded or lacerated scarlet, and he was so gaunt he looked ready to shatter. But he snarled and fought every attempt to stanch his wounds until his captors gave up and left him to bleed.

“Hurt much? ” she muttered, keeping clear of him.

“Like hell. ”

They were delivered to Fiore’s office. Their escort had already patted her down and confiscated her knives as well as the pack. At least he didn’t make me undress, the creep. He marched them to the desk where Fiore stood, handed over the pack, and left. The soundproof door shushed closed behind him.

Fiore smiled. “Nice job, Em—bit slow, but no harm done. ” He turned his attention to Redmayne. “Welcome back, Lennie. ”

“Fiore, you blackhearted, murdering sod. ” He didn’t even sound angry.

“Oh, come on, Redmayne. You were never really director material, talent or not. And it was so good of you to—”

Peacock stepped between them. “You shot me, you son of a bitch. ” She whipped one hand out for his throat.

Fiore grabbed her wrist and wrenched her hand aside. “I always knew you’d get wise. ” Fiore glanced at Redmayne. “Did you tell her? ”

Redmayne scoffed weakly. The wound on his chest was still oozing blood. “After my time, mate. Think she couldn’t figure it out herself, you silly, fat bastard? ”

Peacock jerked her arm against Fiore’s hold and he yanked her farther sideways with a snarl. She propelled herself into the motion, jumping and sliding onto the desktop to ram her near foot into Fiore’s gut. He dropped his grip, and she rolled off with a gratuitous kick toward his face as she passed. Fiore reeled back and shook his head clear.

The pack fell and spilled rocks and bits of black armor across the rug. Peacock dove and snatched the sharp bit of scale she’d used on Redmayne.

Fiore took a step and kicked her in the side, rolling her hard against the wall.

Peacock flipped and used her legs to thrust herself upright. Fiore closed the distance, and she slashed at him, back to the wall.

He snatched for her hand and caught her forearm, crushing his weight against her. He rammed her into the plaster. “Temper, temper, Emily, ” Fiore murmured. “I figured I’d have to scrub you soon, but with Lennie back, I won’t miss you that much. ”

He started muttering under his breath. She felt like she was unraveling around the edges, but the necromancer would have to cut her throat to finish it, and right now his hands were busy. She rammed a knee upward. It was feeble, but enough to cut off his breath for a moment. C’mon, Redmayne. . . .

“You set this up from the beginning, you rat bastard, ” she snapped. “Hired me, killed me, drew me back up so you could run me. You sent me to Hell for your own amusement—”

From his knees, Redmayne heaved his bound weight upward against the desk, and it rocked into Fiore’s back.

Fiore twisted a furious glare over his shoulder as Redmayne staggered. Peacock seized the opening and slashed Fiore with the sharp bit of armor. It grazed his ear. Fiore whipped around, snapping Peacock’s wrist with the motion. The blade dragged down her cheek as he flung her toward Redmayne.

Peacock ducked into a ball, and her cut cheek slapped hard into the bleeding wound on Redmayne’s chest.

Redmayne vanished and Peacock collapsed to the floor in his place.

Fiore strode over and dragged Peacock to her feet. He held her by the throat and shook her as she hung stiffly from his hands.

“Lennie! ” Fiore shouted. He glared around the room. “Come out! You know how I’ll kill her, and you don’t want to watch that. ”

There was a rough hiss near Fiore’s back, and Peacock choked in his grip. She muttered, “You can fucking try, mate, but it’ll be a bloody good trick when she’s behind you. ”

Peacock’s appearance melted away and revealed Redmayne snarling in Fiore’s grip.

Less than a foot from Fiore’s spine, Peacock herself, her leathers unzipped to the waist, yanked a long needle of the hell lord’s claw from a slit in the skin below her breast. She jabbed it an inch into her boss’s back.

Fiore twitched and dropped Redmayne. A black cloud erupted from the floor beneath Fiore and engulfed him. The dark smoke swirled and writhed to his screams, binding him within its coil, then flowed away again like ink down a drain and dragged the necromancer with it. Only an echo and the stink of hot iron lingered to mark their passage.

The air was thick and still with anticipation. Then the desk groaned and toppled. Peacock jumped back from it with a startled hiss.

Then she laughed and flopped down next to Redmayne in the soundproof silence. Fiore’s guys knew better than to interrupt while he was working, so she could afford a moment to catch her breath. She picked up a hell-baked stone and crushed it in her grip so she could rub the dust into her broken wrist and scatter the rest onto Redmayne’s chest. Blood ran down her cheek from the cut she’d put there, but she ignored it. “Well. I wasn’t sure about that hell lord’s claw, but it seemed to work. Where do you suppose it sent Fiore? ”

“You can’t guess from the reek? I’d lay odds he’s having a natter with the original owner about now. ”

“Aww. . . and I didn’t even get to say good-bye. ”

Her wrist straightened with a sound like popcorn exploding. “Ow, ” she yelped. She shook out her hand and wiggled her fingers, then zipped her suit closed, and helped Redmayne into a sitting position. “I have never been so glad for stupid men. The guy who frisked me was too busy copping a feel to notice that damned needle. ”

“To be fair, it was rather small, and you’ve got some nasty scars to hide it under, ” Redmayne replied, and squirmed. “Could you get these shackles off me? Right irritating, they are. ”

Peacock pulled a couple of picks from the seams of her leathers and started on the lock.

Redmayne watched her work. “I’d not count him out entirely yet. Necromancers don’t just walk back out of Hell, but he’s still alive down there until something kills him, and he’ll be looking for a way out. ”

“Like you did? ” she said, opening up the restraints.

“Ta, ” he said, rubbing at his arms and wrists. “Nah. I started by looking for a way in, but I’d never been to Hell and I had to guess a lot and go on theory. Then I had to find the right liminal point and make sure I had someone I could trust to get rid of my remains. Had to figure out exactly how black and which shade of damnation my soul had to wear to land in exactly the right place. Had to leave bits of intrigue behind that only I could solve for him. I knew he’d have to send someone for me eventually. Bit of luck it was you. ”

“Luck? ”

Redmayne nodded self-consciously. “Yeah. I didn’t have much of a plan for when I got out. It was chatting you up made it come together, but Fiore laid the ground himself. If he hadn’t bent you over, you’d have had no cause to throw in with me. ”

Peacock gave him a cynical look. “You had no plan at all? You didn’t know I was coming, didn’t trick me into attracting that lord’s attention so you could get its claw? ”

“Maybe the claw, I did. The rest was mostly the happenstance of you being you and saving my arse. I’m not so bleeding clever, or I’d have come up with some way to avoid the whole thing. At the time, we couldn’t run the Directory without a necromancer, and Thaumaturge in Chief didn’t have the kind of power that Fiore’s built up since then. And I’m not good at killing people—all that—”

“All that blood, ” Peacock finished. “You’re a twisty bit of work, Redmayne. I’m still wondering what happens to me now that Fiore’s gone. I’m surprised I haven’t dropped dead already. And how much better off are you? I mean, technically you’re—what? —some kind of hellspawn now? ”

Redmayne shrugged and grimaced. “Well, hellborn, yeah—bit of an affinity after walking out. This body looks the same as what Fiore murdered—or it will when I’m not portal-sick—but I’m not sure yet on the functional details of living in this world in flesh created in Hell. ”

“I guess we’ll find out. ”

“I guess. ” Redmayne gave her a crooked smile. “Think I can get me old job back? ”

Peacock started scavenging in the wreckage for weapons. “I’m willing to help you try. ”

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