Li'l Blue

Madcap Motorcabs was proudly emblazoned on the spinning sign affixed to the top of the three-wheeled motorized rickshaw barreling down the narrow cobblestone streets of Dragon's Gate, tilting precariously as it rattled and skidded around corners. Mallory had her hands on the railings, halfway out of her seat to both minimize the impact on her body, and to shift her weight against the little death trap's perilous turns. The driver, a copper-scaled kobold wearing a bowler hat and a Hawaiian shirt under his little faux-fur parka, cackled with glee as they came bouncing to a fitful stop in front of Dragon's Gate General Hospital, landing on the sidewalk between a parked ambulance and three very startled smokers sitting on a bench.

The witch paid in silver, watched the driver speed off, and said a few words for her luck, that it might find her a saner driver to take her home. Then she shifted her backpack onto her left shoulder, took a deep breath, and made her way inside.

It was a hospital. Most people were happy to ignore her, so she had to find someone sitting behind a desk to pay her any mind. "I'm here to see Jewell Ravenlock? I'm Mallory St. Martin, I uh, I work for her."

"Hey yo, witch girl!" The House of Summer Girl, a pretty freckled blonde named Lavanya, waved to Mallory before the woman behind the desk could begin to question her. She quickly excused herself with a touch to the arm of the homely doctor she had been flirting with (she was sure he would be handsome with the lights off and he was likely good with his hands at least!) and crossed the hectic lobby of the hospital.

"How goes it? You here to see The Empress? She's not really conducting business these days. Unless it's an emergency?" Her nose scrunched up a bit. She really hoped it wasn't an emergency. She?d promised the doctor she'd grab lunch with him in the cafeteria.

"Hey, um -- hey," Mallory smiled at Lavanya, having either never heard her name or completely forgotten it. She ruffled her fingers through her hair, looking away, then back at the girl. "No, I mean... not really? I just wanted to touch base and see how things are. I've been... kind of in the dark since everything went down, and I'm back on my feet again, so..." She trailed off. She'd barely had an understanding of her function within the House, and the neighborhood at large; even her end of the contract itself had been very vague. Jewell and Ishmerai were her only two ways of defining her role. Her hand, rubbing the back of her neck, stilled as better questions occurred to her, and she looked back at Lavanya: "How is she? and Ishmerai?"

"Oh, sure. Empress is... well, she's alive. So that's good, you know? Come on." Lavanya was one of the more affable women in Jewell's employ. She hadn't become jaded from her time in the brothel Jewell had eventually rescued her, finding herself equally suited for meting out pleasure and pain. She gestured for Mallory to follow along as she started down one of the hallways towards a bank of old fashion elevators. "She?s been pretty quiet, I guess. Glad Sapphire is here to manage her because she's a little..." She hesitated, grinned, and decided: "Strong-willed? Yeah. Let's go with that."

She happily chatted Mallory's ear off as they waited for the elevator and then got on. "Haven't seen Ishmerai yet. Word is he'll be back from Faerie soon, but you know how time is there. Third floor, please," she paused in her running dialogue to instruct the elevator operator. "So yeah, they say soon but soon for them could be a few minutes or a few years here."

"A few years? Mother of God," Mallory huffed, leaning against one wall of the elevator, watching the numbers go up. "I don't think I've heard of Sapphire," she admitted. She hadn't heard of most of the House's people, really. When the elevator dinged and the doors rolled open, she followed Lavanya out.

"We're really hoping it won't be that long! Can you imagine? She'll be intolerable." Lavanya waved and greeted the nurses and hospital staff as they headed down the hallway towards Jewell's room. "I think you'll like Sapphire," she stated confidently, as if she and Mallory were old friends. "She's Jewell's daughter... kind of. It's weird."

She held her hand up when they reached the room. Another House of Summer girl was slouched in a chair outside the door, but Lavanya poked her head right in. "Hey Li?l Blue. She's got a visitor."

Jewell's voice, sounding less than pleased, could be heard out in the hallway. "Enough, Lavanya! I told you all to stop acting -- "

"See, there you go again. The doctor told you to stop yelling at people." There was some shuffling going on inside the room. "Come on. Lie back. Breathe. You can do it. Take a moment and breathe."

The words sounded strange to Mallory as they reached her ears, Jewell sounding so normal, and the witch hesitated near the door.

Lavanya stepped back, grinning sheepishly at Mallory to set her at ease. "She gets upset when we talk like she's not right there. You can go in, though."

Sapphire was standing at Jewell's bedside when Mallory came in, not quite a mirror image of The Empress but close enough. The faerie was sitting in her hospital bed, propped up by a pack of pillows. She had her eyes closed for the moment, focusing on breathing. She likely looked better than the last time Mallory had seen her: thinner, paler, but the bruises on her face had faded away and the iron burns were mostly gone as well. The room was cheery, full of sunshine and get well cards everywhere.

It wasn't until Mallory laid eyes on the faerie that the weight of it all struck her. There, a little lesser and paler but a great deal more alive, was the woman whom she'd dueled nearly to the death not two weeks ago. Her eyes were shut peacefully, not cold and predatory and fixed on her destruction. The hands that had skewered her and tossed her away like nothing were still, folded on top of a hospital blanket. The witch had barely made it into the room when she stopped, struggling to making sense of what she was seeing and remembering the night of the ritual all too vividly, and all at once.

Jewell opened her eyes, saw Mallory, and wished she hadn't. "Oh." In that small word was all her dismay, pain, and guilt. Coming face-to-face with the young witch was coming face-to-face with what she had done and what had been done to her. Her fingers curled into a death grip on the blankets covering her. The heart monitor at her side started beeping faster.

"Uhh..." Sapphire looked nervously from Mallory to Jewell to the machine keeping watch on Jewell's heart before taking the situation in hand with the grace of the Faerie who had raised her. She stepped towards Mallory, hand extended: "Hey! I'm Sapphire. Don't think we've had the chance to meet yet. Nice to see someone other than old ladies hanging around here, though."

Mallory curled a hand around Sapphire's reflexively, but she was barely registering what was being said to her. That glimpse of Jewell's eyes made it worse for the witch as well. "Hi... do they... coffee?" she said, gesturing with her thumb over her left shoulder. Downstairs. The cafeteria. Anywhere, away from here.

"Yeah." Sapphire glanced over her shoulder at Jewell. The faerie had found something interesting on the wall to stare at, but the teen could see that she had also grabbed the little dagger pin off the table and was fidgeting with it again. She sighed. With a light hand on Mallory's shoulder, she guided her back out into the hallway.

"Samantha, go in there and sit with her until I come back, okay?" The brunette with pink streaks in her hair didn't even say anything. She just hoisted herself off the chair and shuffled into the hospital room.

* * *

The cafeteria was back downstairs. It had a wall of windows overlooking a small, snow-covered courtyard. "Sit." The young woman commanded Mallory before she wandered off, returning minutes later with a tray containing two steaming cups of coffee and two huge slices of cake: carrot and red velvet.

Mallory responded mutely to Sapphire's command, but this time less from the shock of seeing Jewell, and more from the embarrassment of succumbing to it. She was running her fingers through her hair, frowning as she fussed with it, and stopped when the other woman returned with coffee and cake. "Thanks," she murmured, and dragged her coffee a little closer, letting her fingers feel the warmth through the ceramic. She looked up from it at Sapphire; she could feel the heat of shame on the back of her neck. "Sorry about that."

"Nah, nothing to be sorry about." Sapphire dropped onto the chair opposite Mallory, unaffectedly at ease. "You're the witch, right? Heard you guys really had it out that night." She grabbed a fork, stabbing a huge piece of red velvet cake. "Must have been crazy. Heard you did pretty well against a crazy sidhe. That's pretty ****ing awesome." Then she shoved the cake into her mouth and tried to continue talking: " 'prized yur 'live."

"Me too," Mallory replied quietly, and sipped her coffee. She blew out a long sigh, and huffed a quiet laugh and shook her head. "****. I'm not like this -- wound up like some uptight -- I don't ****ing know." The carrot cake looked good. She cut off a back corner, getting a generous portion of frosting with it. "I guess I did kick a lot of ass, huh." Nom. "I don't remember much about the end of the fight, though. Demons... fire..." Burning priests, screaming as Mallory?s fire consumed them. "Gets kind of hazy around there. It'd be a lot easier to brag if I remembered it better," she added as she cut off the other corner.

"Should just make it up," she grinned as she scooped up another portion of cake. "Shame though. I've been collecting details of the night since she won't really talk about it. Rand filled in a bunch for me. Issy too." That easy smile faded a little, "Jewell won't say a word, though."

The cake was sitting on the edge of her fork, just waiting to be devoured. It suddenly wasn't as appetizing though. Still, she ate it, washing it down with some scalding coffee.

Mallory needed a moment, and it turned out so did Sapphire. She cleared her throat and changed the subject: "So, you're her daughter?"

Sapphire made an affirmative sound. "I'm only her daughter kinda sorta. Different Jewell. Different dimension. But here I am."

"I've lived in the dead center of the Multiverse long enough to find that only a little weird," and Mallory grinned a little before her next sip of coffee. It clinked against the saucer as she set it down. She took a deep breath. Better out than in.

"I know a few things about? that night... I know they were pumping something into the air upstairs, get everyone riled up. RhyDin's clubs can get a little wild... but the pink haze in the air, and someone getting their ***** licked in the narthex tipped me off. I figured they might do that, so I brought a gas mask -- and Sanctuary's too kinky for anyone to find that weird." Her gaze drifted to the middle of the table, and she drummed her fingers slowly.

"I saw a bunch of mercs guarding the back stairwell, but something must have happened, because they ran off to check it out. I slipped into the cellar... saw Jewell reduce one of the Temple's goons to mist," she said, and her gaze ticked to Sapphire's face, searching for any sign of response or reaction to the more gruesome information. "She pulled the water from the blood, trapped some guy in a water vortex and crushed him. I tried to kill the Namekeeper." And a soldier died in his place, strangled to death by her magic. "Jewell tried to kill me... I tried to make the water in the room harder to work with, turning it into blood, but she just turned the blood into spikes and started flinging them at me. I spat blinding venom in her eyes, but she drew it away, like it was nothing... tossed me aside just as easily, too. I, uh... attacked one of the priests," she said, blinking rapidly for a few moments, as she recalled (and tried to set aside) a vivid mental picture of the priest skewered with an iron spike, choking through his last breaths with his eyes locked on hers. "Jewell was going to kill me, but then... some guy showed up. Handsome, early middle-aged."

Mallory shook her head. "That's around the time the demons started showing up. That's when things get fuzzier, but that's the last time I remember seeing Jewell."

Sapphire nodded along as Mallory recounted her version of what had happened in Sanctuary, melding the facts together with what she had already learned. She was apparently undisturbed enough by it all to continue eating her cake with little trouble, not even faltering when the witch described Jewell reducing some goon to pink mist. Her blue eyes did harden at that last bit: handsome, early middle-aged guy showing up.

"Kalamere," she supplied, setting her fork aside. The cake was not done but she was. She had just been trying to take some of the attention off of Mallory as she spoke. "That's the guy that stopped her. She's in love with him and he stabbed her in the heart. With iron. Apparently they made some deal beforehand, ?cause she knew what was gonna happen." The teen slouched back in her seat. "Still seems like a **** way to treat someone, right?"

"****," Mallory breathed, running her fingers back through her hair again. She shut her eyes for the count of three, and when she opened them, they'd settled on the snowy courtyard outside. "Iron, right through the heart of a fae. She's lucky." And the irony of a mortal betraying an enamored fae was not lost on her, either.

Sapphire shrugged. "I guess it is lucky. Doesn't seem like she thinks so though. Maybe she does. I don't know." She frowned. She had watched Jewell heal over the last few days but still struggle with whatever was going on in her head.

"What about the Temple? Are they gone? And..." Mallory worried her lip. "...is anyone gonna have... questions, about what I did down there? legal questions?"

Sapphire shook her head. "From what I know of these people, they're not really gone. Gone from RhyDin maybe? For now. Couple people from the CPA," she paused, twisting her coffee cup around a little, "that's the Council for Preternatural Activities? They came by the other day. She kicked me out of the room to talk to them. They said they'd be back, but I wouldn't be worried or anything. I mean, like it was all self-defense, right? Besides, you got Jewell on your side. Maybe if she was dead there'd be issues, but who wants to mess with a sidhe even if she can't walk more than a few feet without getting winded right now?"

Who wants to mess with a sidhe. Mallory's scattered thoughts clarified on that point, and the buffer of the Court standing between the witch and the consequences of her actions. "I'm... I left the house for the first time yesterday, but I'm better. Maybe not well enough for a 5k or a screw, but well enough for magic. What do you guys need right now?"

Sapphire's charm was in her million watt smile. Jewell affected sweetness. Sapphire was sweet. And sassy and obnoxious. But sweet. "You're so nice! I should be asking you that, honestly. Should have checked in on you at some point. Sorry about that. I've kinda let a few balls drop, you know?" She leaned forward, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup. "Not quite as good at this running an empire thing as some people," she rolled her eyes. "But I think we're doing okay. You should probably just focus on feeling better yourself. Not feeling well enough for a screw is a serious problem."

"I wouldn't know the first thing about it. **** -- I meant empire-building!" Mallory added hastily, her cheeks going pink. At least her color had returned. She laughed at herself as she took out her phone. "Alright. But, if you need anything hexed or warded or scried, or need any sooths said, hit me up?" She typed out her phone number and swiveled it around to Sapphire. "I won't pretend the money isn't good, either."

Sapphire was snickering as she pulled out her comm device. It did not look a typical cellphone. It was some technomagic piece of her own creation, but she was still able to add in Mallory's number with ease, smirking at the shop talk. "Got it. Hexes and wards. Hey, you know, I may want to pick your brain on a project or two I'm working on." She tucked her comm device away again. "And maybe when you're ready, she'd probably like to see you and actually chat you know? When you have time," she added that last part on as tactfully as she could.

"Yeah. Yeah, time I've got plenty of," Mallory said, snapping her phone shut. "Let me know about those projects."

There was more she wanted to know, more she wanted to hear, but those were things that would have to come from Jewell. The conversation felt at an end. "Thanks for talking to me, Sapphire. It feels good just to know what's going on," she said, but it was a half-truth.

It was a rare time that closure, not knowledge, mattered more to the witch.

A Knight's Word

Lanuathen Sieldar looked a little out of place in Dresden Run, but that look put him in good company. There were a few other physicians like him, skipping town after evidence of malpractice came to light; once-wealthy socialites cut off from their parents' purse strings, on the run from the mobs that ran casinos and employed loan sharks; suits from Stars End whose fraudulent plans had just blown up in their faces; and others, the wealthy and formerly-wealthy scattered among the mercs, smugglers, and low-lifes that populated one of RhyDin's seediest edge-realms. Dresden Run coiled around the city like a symbiotic parasite, funneling the worst souls away from RhyDin and occasionally choosing one to devour.

So far, Sieldar had survived. Mercs relied on back-alley doctors at least as much as their own luck, and his fae healing magic was an uncommon commodity in these derelict alleyways. In the span of the six weeks since fleeing Sylvan Springs, he'd found a bar called the Mermaid's Legs, charmed the old owner and pushed him into an herb-induced coma, and taken over the establishment as a makeshift clinic.

Two women in burned and blaster-scarred armor hobbled out together, still sore and a great deal poorer, but no longer threatened by a lethal cocktail of punitive neurotoxins in their systems. "Thank you; come again!" he trilled after them, and began clearing his vials of alchemical supplies from the table he'd used to treat them. This wasn't Sylvan Springs, no, but he was alive, and this would do for biding his time. He rolled up the sleeves on his fine silk tunic and whistled as he wiped down the tables.

"You are sure he is there?" The fae knight brushed Janel's hair back behind her ear, murmuring the question with his lips against her neck.

She giggled coquettishly, her words a low rumble of desire. "Oh yes. I'm sure."

"Good. Then I will meet you back at my place, hmm?" He pulled back, tapping her under the chin before discreetly passing her a handful of money. A downpayment perhaps for whatever deal they had just made. The Finder girl sent him a sultry look, pausing to press a kiss against his jawline, before disappearing down the street.

The knight turned, adjusting his dark, leather jacket. There was a flash of silver knvies lining the inside that deterred the one young man approaching him. Ishmerai sent him a sharp-toothed grin before approaching the entrance of Mermaid's Legs, fingering the tegaki styled weapons on his hips. His hands would slide so easily into them if needed. When needed.

He pushed open the door and adopted a drunken stumble inside, "Barkeep! BARKEEP! Your cheapest ale!"

Lanuathen narrowed his eyes at the new entrant, and his bright gaze darted to either side, checking seemingly empty space at two tables near the front door. He cleared his throat over the faint scuff of wood in the room and shook his head at someone unseen. He was fairly sure he could handle a simple drunk by himself.

"I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place for the cheapest ale," the healer said, affecting a toothy smile as he approached, hands open, genial and welcoming even if his words were anything but. "The Mermaid's Legs is under new management," he continued, glancing at the floor to allow himself a soft laugh as he drew closer. "Mr. Dutch put me in charge after he fell ill, and I felt it best to... change the selection. Top shelf only," he said, raising his gaze to Ishmerai and his apparently drunken state, his smile a thin veneer over his disdain. "Top."

Two. By the door. The knight turned drunk paid them no mind. Not yet. Instead, he tripped over his own boots, clapping Lanuathen on the shoulder like he was an old friend. "Congratulations are in order then, friend! Top shelf it is! Round for everyone!" He glanced around, noting that the place was empty, and laughed. "Or maybe just us, huh?"

Lanuathen's eyes went wide when the drunk stumbled closer and set his hands on him. He gave one of his unseen companions a significant look, a head jerk toward Ishmerai, and peeled away from him with a smile. "Top shelf it is," the healer said, and paused by the bar break to narrow his eyes, assessing the other man. "On the house," he decided, and stepped behind the bar to secure a bottle of fae wine. One of a few he'd decided to take with him, purchased from the Empress' enterprise in Little Elfhame.

"You should know that we are a house of healing, too. Tell me... is there anything that ails you? Say... blood-born illnesses?" The wooden floor creaked not three feet behind Ishmerai.

He followed Lanuathen towards the bar without even a glance over his shoulder. "Healing, is it? Can't say I need that. Healthy as an ox." He thumped himself on the chest then eyed the bottle he had grabbed. "Bet there's good money to be made in these parts with healing." There was the glint of greed in his eyes.

"Oh, my dear, sweet, very drunk friend," Lanuathen sighed, and gave a smile over Ishmerai's shoulder that glittered with malice. "You don't know the half of it."

One figure became visible, the glamour dropped once his arm swung with deadly intent: a musclebound human swinging a silver axe at Ishmerai's neck, with a black dagger ready in his off hand. Lighter footsteps pattered nearby, his still-concealed comrade scurrying in to flank the fae knight.

The knight turned, ducking as he did so, before the glamour had even fully dropped, his hands sliding into the familiar tiger-claws at his side. As he moved, the scales the lingered on the corners of his face and in a dappled pattern across his skin grew to cover his entire body beneath the black leather. He locked his left hand around the human's forearm, redirecting the one-handed axe blow into the bar while his right ripped across his lower stomach with the three blades of his claw.

Leaving the blades engaged in the man's body, he spun him towards the hidden, incoming foe.

A gurgling cry sprayed blood out of the disemboweled man's mouth as he spun to face the rogue, now leaping backwards, her glamour dropping as two fine throwing knives flew through the air. One thudded into the dying human's torso, the other tore through Ishmerai's leathers and emitted sparks as it slid off of his scales.

The now-visible halfling woman beheld the scene and the rapidly changing odds for only a split second before she raised an empty hand. "Peace!" she cried as she darted away, trying to put tables between her and the knight on her way towards the door.

Her life wasn't worth this. Her employer could deal with the deadly stranger on his own.

He carelessly shoved the dead man's body away from him once he served his purpose, not stopping to check any wounds he may have sustained or to pursue the retreating woman. The smile on his face was much more vicious now when he turned to face Lanuathen. He planted his hands on the bartop, hoisting himself up and over. Despite the weight of his leathers and weapons, he moved gracefully. A predator stalking his prey and enjoying it.

"L-l-listen, I d-d-deeply apologize, okay?" Lanuathen sputtered as he backed away from the fae knight; a streak of the now-dead mercenary's blood coated his cheek, and he suddenly noticed the heat of it, wiping it away with his long fingers. He looked at them in horror, and again at Ishmerai.

"Now I know, I know I shouldn't have put her healing house's reputation at risk, I know I should have told you about my side venture," he said, and glanced over his shoulder a little too late to stop himself stumbling backwards through the break. He fell, catching himself against a table, and held out a hand for Ishmerai to stop.

"But! But. It was a very profitable side venture, and, ah -- and, ah -- I am sure the Empress would be very interested! Magical mortals, turned into the perfect slaves while retaining their powers!" He pushed off from the table, sliding between two of them to give himself a little more cover, and opened his hands to Ishmerai again. The gesture lacked the same confidence. "Soulless, perfectly pliant, perfectly incorruptible, and they will do anything you ask of them without even thinking of refusing. They can't!" he laughed incredulously.

Then he pointed at Ishmerai: "I could set you up with one! Back in RhyDin, I had to leave one behind, awaiting my orders! She could be yours!"

On the knight stalked, apparently in no hurry to finish his business and letting the healer dig his own grave. He paused at the final offer though, brows raising. ?My own?? Perhaps he was not as incorruptible as he appeared. His vows had been broken when Jewell died. He was not truly beholden to her. ?Tell me more about this one. The Empress is unlikely interested, but?? he left that hanging there.

Lanuathen?s eyes widened; a nervous smile, a thin facade, slipped over his obvious terror, as it appeared the fae knight could be negotiated with! ?Well!? He clapped his hands together as he faced Ishmerai, no longer backpedaling. ?She answers to Safiya -- o-o-or, whatever you would like to call her!? he added with a nervous titter. ?Has some wizarding talent, can inscribe circles and manipulate the elements? um? Good figure! Kind of tall, but slender, and losing her soul has made her no less graceful. She is at a safehouse in Dockside, which??

His eyes light up. ?I could give you! I have the key, um,? he ducked a look between Ishmerai and the door with an Employees Only sign, ?around here somewhere. A bachelor pad,? he laughed again, holding his hands out to Ishmerai imploringly, ?for you and your new apprentice.?

?Only one?? Ishmerai stroked his chin, still plated in scales, contemplatively. ?I will need more than one if I will break free from her hold. You know she is not to be trifled with.?

?She is the only one, but! If I return to RhyDin, I could get you? more?? He leaned forward, smiled at the knight. ?The ritual has a? nearly perfect rate of success, and I am sure the next suitable candidate I find would give me no trouble. I could break someone for you in two or three days, at the most.?

?And what of Mallory, hm?? He ventured to name her. ?What of that one? There is such potential there.?

?Potential for trouble and a splitting headache,? Lanuathen scowled at the witch?s mention. ?Bitch?s soul clawed its way back from the Void -- a mortal soul, after a fae deemed banishment a fitting fate! And you would not believe the way she screamed when she fell. Like a harpy.? He felt his lips curling in disgust, and smoothed out his expression to something more businesslike. ?But, if we could find a more private place in which to break her, I?m sure we could see her broken like the -- ?

Ishmerai had heard enough. He backhanded the healer across the face. The blades on the tiger-claw were double-edged and kept incredibly sharp. He stood over the fallen healer, his blood dripping from the three claws on his right hand. ?You should not have crossed The Empress.? He adjusted his tegaki styled weapons. ?And you should not have touched my friend. I wonder if you will scream like a harpy as well??

Lanuathen let out a gasping cry as the claws ribboned the smooth flesh of his face, and a cascade of hot blood soaked his tunic. There was no magic he had that could avail him here, no ritual that could save him. He let out an anguished scream as his fingers felt what had become of his face, the loose movement of a cleanly split upper lip. Then he saw the knight advancing. ?M-m-mercy,? he begged, holding his bleeding wounds so he could speak. ?P-please?!?

The knight bent down, leaning closer to him, his voice a low growl. ?Try it again.? Starting at the shoulder, he ran the left claw in a set of three, shallow, diagonal cuts to his hip. ?That did not sound like a harpy.? And then another run across his belly. Each cut shallow. Each cut precise. Each cut meant to make him bleed and to cause pain. But not to kill.

Not yet.

He groaned, teeth grit, eyes clenched shut, when the too-sharp claws scraped along his hip. But when they sliced through the soft flesh of his belly? He began to scream.

He began to fight tooth and nail with what little was left in him, as Mallory had when he had cast her out of Faerie; his hands scrabbled and squeezed and clawed at Ishmerai?s scaly flesh, trying to force the claws away from him and hold them at bay.

?No, no, no?! Please?!? he managed, but his words gave way to screams again when the claws slid through his skin.

The knight grinned, ?You are correct. That is a rather annoying noise.? He brushed away the feeble attempts to hold him back, as he would a child grasping at his knee, and the next lazy strike was across the throat to make him stop screaming.

After that, he could finish his work in relative silence as Lanuathen gurgled and choked on his own blood.

A quick search found the keys for the Mermaid?s Legs dangling from the dead man?s belt, slick with the blood now pooling around his waist. It opened the Employees Only door into the kitchen and attached storage room, containing a cot where Mr. Timothy Dutch lay in an induced coma, along with the elixirs to put him under and awaken him in a locked chest.

A pocket staircase led to the bedroom and office, containing a small desk with what appeared to be the bulk of Lanuathen Sieldar?s research into soul-banished slaves -- as well as the paperwork and keys for an address in Dockside...

((Adapted from live play with Ishmerai's player!))

?No. Absolutely not. No no no.?

?But Mira--?

?No! I don?t trust her, Merai. I know that you do for some crazy reason, but I don?t. She is not to be involved in our affairs any longer.?

The knight growled low, frustrated. ?But she saved herself from him. She could probably save this girl!?

?Maybe,? Jewell scoffed.

?If not her, then who??

?Someone else.?

?Who, Mira? Do you think you can do it??

The faerie hesitated. ?Maybe? I don?t know.? She ran her hand back through her short hair. ?It?s not something I?ve ever done before. I guess technically, I should be able to, but what if something goes wrong? I?m not exactly at peak performance these days. And if I **** up, then I **** her up even more. I don?t know if I can live with that.?

The knight leaned back against the kitchen island. He did not want his lady to attempt this thing. Returning the girl?s soul was no easy task (even finding it could prove difficult). He had no doubt that Jewell was capable enough and could do anything she set her mind to accomplish, but he did not want her to have to do it. It had taken her the entire walk back from Dockside to compose herself after briefly seeing the trauma inflicted upon Safiya, and she was still visibly trembling. What harm would it do if she assisted the girl?

?We cannot leave her as she is, Mira.?

She snapped at him, ?I know that! I?m not suggesting that we do. I just--? Jewell sunk down onto one of the chairs at the table. ?I don?t trust her.?

?But you think she could do it?? She shrugged. ?Let me go to Mallory. I have to show her the body anyway, but you need not concern yourself with the matter at all.? She made a noise of annoyance. ?Mira, she can be trusted in this. I do not think she will let the young woman suffer any longer if she can fix it.?

Jewell worked with chalk in one hand and a half-eaten brownie in the other, standing a few feet off the ground on nothing but air as she drew and empowered another circle on the ceiling.

?Mira, how many of those have you had already??

?Just two,? she mumbled, shoving the rest of the second one in her mouth and brushing some crumbs off her shirt as she touched back down on the ground and turned to face the knight.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. ?I think that is enough for now. You need to be able to perform.?

She wiped her hand off on her jeans, chewing quickly and swallowing the delicious, chocolate confection that was laced with pot. ?I?ll perform just fine, thank you. They?re keeping my heart rate down enough without making my brain too foggy.? It was a necessity. Just being in the presence of the soulless Safiya made her lungs constrict. She thought about The Namekeeper locking away her own soul deep inside her so all she could do was watch as they--

?Mira??

Jewell blinked, returning to herself and then frowned at the crushed piece of chalk in her right hand. ?Shoot. I need another piece. I?m almost done.?

?Okay.? Ishmerai moved into the kitchen to get another piece of chalk for her.

While his back was turned, she grabbed a third brownie from the plate on the coffee table. ?You almost ready, Mallory??

?Rm-hrmf!? came the brownie-muffled reply from the witch. She finished inscribing the third concentric magic circle above the water-filled tub, perched precariously on top of a bar-height chair. She stepped down onto a rung for a better perspective on her handiwork. The chalk was mundane for the moment, but the linework was perfect: with the proper invocation, the water in the tub would become a thin place to the Veil.

She slid the chair into the corner, hauled her backpack onto it, and slid out one of her spellbooks. Then she traipsed out into the rest of the apartment, looking between the circles inscribed on her journal pages, and Jewell?s work on the floors and walls. ?The, uh? gate? It?s ready,? she said, squinting at the circle the faerie had just finished. ?Could one of you bring Safiya in? I just need to check a few things??

?Merai, get the girl. I?m going to finish the last circle.? She moved over to the far wall to touch up the necessary markings while Ishmerai moved into the bedroom without complaint. He knew Jewell didn?t want to touch Safiya.

She was sitting on the edge of her bed, staring off into space, a blank slate. ?Come with me, Safiya,? Ishmerai instructed kindly. He took her hand, guiding her out of the bedroom. She shuffled behind the knight, compliant and unresisting, as he lead her into the bathroom. ?Where do you need her, Mallory??

The witch looked up from her spellbook, fixated on the blank stare and utter compliance of Safiya. Then she smiled and told her, ?Don?t worry -- I?ll have you back in one piece in no time.? Safiya didn?t need reassuring, but it felt no less necessary to say, for Mallory. ?Put her in the tub. As low as she can get without drowning. It?s the only way her soul will take.?

She paused by the bathroom door, craning a look back at Jewell, assessing her from a distance. Can I depend on her, just for this? There was no easy answer, and quietly, Mallory resolved that she would have to be as ready as ever to depend on herself.

She stepped into the bathroom, put her book away, and took a knee to untie her boots. ?Should?ve added a swimsuit to that list, earlier,? she muttered, stacking boots and striped socks together underneath the chair.

The knight grinned over his shoulder at Mallory as he helped Safiya into the tub. ?There is no shame in nakedness.? He was teasing her in his formal, factual tone of voice, waiting long enough to see her blush before returning his attention to Safiya. ?There you go, just move down a little more. Keep your chin above the water. Let your head rest back.? The simple, straightforward instructions seemed to work best with the girl who complied without ever noticing she was fully dressed.

Jewell lingered at the threshold, refusing to cross and join the party in the crowded bathroom. She had a brownie in hand; it only had one bite taken out of it, but she wasn?t really feeling so hungry now. Not with what they were about to do. She dried her free hand off on her jeans once more, smudging the chalk dust there, and contemplated the tin of pills in her back pocket as her heart race increased. The faerie wanted Safiya to get the help she needed, but there was a good reason Jewell had relented and let Ishmerai ask Mallory for help. She did not want to be running this show.

She also really didn?t like taking orders from the little witch either.

?We?re all good whenever you are.?

Mallory gave Jewell little more than a glance this time, her assessment already made. ?The thread between body and soul should appear as soon as I cross over. Please hold onto it -- the tighter your hold, the brighter our path home? and the sooner we can get this over with.?

Now was not the time for games. Jewell slid easily around Ishmerai and went up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Mallory?s forehead. It was not a gesture of comfort. It was not a reassurance. Her lips were warm with the touch of her magic, forming the connection between them that would illuminate the way home. ?It will be the very brightest.? Then the faerie retreated, scooting her butt up onto the narrow sink counter where she could swing her feet above the floor, contemplate shoving the rest of the brownie into her mouth in one shot to get her heart to stop racing, and wait for the (hopefully) uneventful show to begin.

Mallory frowned curiously at the strange sensation of Jewell?s magic as she slid into the tub opposite Safiya, bracing her hands on the edge as she eased herself in. There was a shudder from head to toe and her teeth briefly chattered, despite the water?s warmth, and she grit her teeth to suppress it.

Part of her yearned for comfort to assuage her growing terror, reassurance that this journey through the Veil would be just fine, but there was no comfort for her to seek outside of the confidence in her own abilities, and her resolve to show that she could see this done.

She settled her shoulders against the back of the tub, sinking until her chin touched the water, and dipped her head back. Her three concentric magic circles looked down on her. ?Sleep, hound, for the day is long,? she whispered, and her eyelids fluttered drowsily. ?Let me follow Orpheus? song?? She felt another shudder come from deep within her, a coldness in her chest as she felt the precipitous gravity behind the door she was opening; she took a deep breath, and soldiered on.

?...and if it please the ferryman, do not keep me long.?

Blackness.

((Adapted from a scene with Jewell and Ishmerai!))

An hour passed.

Safiya?s expression had returned to something more serene; Mallory?s was grim, lips and eyelids moving as if she were struggling through a nightmare. Their fingers were pruny, but the water was cool, not cold; both women?s complexions looked no different now than when the witch?s journey had just begun.

For the sake of their safety, Ishmerai had banned Jewell from eating any other brownies for the time being. Fortunately, Sapphire had packed other snacks for this little adventure. Jewell was working her way through a bag of cheesy corn chips, back pressed up against the mirror. She twirled a chip around, admiring how much cheese was coating it. ?Take care of that, will you?? she asked the knight before popping the chip into her mouth.

?Wha--?? he glanced over his shoulder to her before looking back at the tub and the wraith that was materializing into the physical plane over the two girls lying in the cool water.
Even off-kilter, the knight reacted quickly. His hands slid into the tiger-claws at his side, and before the wraith could reach out and touch Safiya, he had grabbed it by its solidifying shoulder and ran the triple blades across its throat to remove its head. Ectoplasm fell onto the girls as he shoved the spirit back through the doorway.

He frowned back at Jewell. ?A little more warning next time, please??

She shrugged.

* * *

Something changed in the mist behind Mallory, enough to turn her head and squint back at the flickering light of the green star, now all the more distant. Glimmering spirits floated from one cloud to another, chilling her to her core every time one of them phased through her thread. Either she had passed into a new domain within this vast and empty expanse of the netherworld? or something had changed about the doorway between there and here.

?Fucking remnants,? she said to herself, and with a burst of speed she rocketed through the next eerie cloud bank, breaking out into the first thing resembling a vista since the beginning of this journey.

Below her, or above, or ahead, was a massive slab of sculpted basalt, smooth edges erupting into twisted spires of thorny vines that arced across the space like stone cages. There were a series of raised daises, enough to suggest a pattern to them but not enough to confirm it, each ringed by the remains of benches -- and their occupants -- that had crumbled into piles of rubble, bones and rags.

Limited as the scope of her Sight was, the fact that she could not see the edges of this place beyond the shroud of darkness filled her with a sense of awe at its vastness.

It was only when she drew closer that she saw her quarry.

Mounds of mummified flesh and bony limbs were heaped under the stone archways, unmoving bodies that held no glimmer that she could discern, but in among them was the flickering silver light of a familiar form. ?Safiya.?

The lost apprentice lifted her eyes when the strange witch approached, her pale gaze wide and widening at what she beheld. ?Wha -- who are you?? she said, and startled herself that she could still speak, so long after she had given up begging her tormentors to stop.

?A living mortal,? Mallory replied as she floated down to land on the stone before her, ?who?s come a long way to return something that?s yours.? She held out her hand, opening it to reveal the severed thread tied into her ring, resting in her palm. Safiya moved to draw back, eyes narrowed at Mallory, suspecting a trick, but the witch implored her: ?Please come back to RhyDin with me. We don?t belong here. We should hurry.?

After a thoughtful pause, and a wide-eyed search of the misty void above them, Safiya made her decision. She plucked the ring from Mallory?s hand, slid it onto her finger, and gasped when it melted into her soul, anchoring itself to her wrist. Features that had been faint, eyes that had been little more than a pair of white marbles, suddenly regained their finer details as her soul recalled the body it belonged to.

The mage?s eyes settled on Mallory?s, but there was no time for the warmth of a smile, nor the suspicion and doubt of a frown. There was only the urgency to return. ?We have to hurry. He is coming!?

* * *

Safiya?s back arched, her arms braced along the tub, her wet hair spilling out of the back and pouring a puddle of water onto the tile floor, tinged with ritual sea salt and ectoplasm. She had a light now like Mallory?s, as bright as the witch in Jewell?s sight, and her lips parted as she spoke the first words of her own choosing in many months:

?No? no, no? he?s coming? he?s coming?!?

She grimaced and clenched her eyes shut as her entire body tensed, struggling with the restored connection while her tethered soul still lingered with Mallory?s, out across the vast expanse of the netherworld.

Experience dictated the knight?s movements enough that he did not reach out to the distressed young woman in the tub. Instead, as the water spilled over the side, he turned to Jewell. ?What happened??

The faerie pointed a cheese stained finger at Safiya, ?Look yourself, if you want. Mallory found her soul.?

The knight did look, but quickly shifted his gaze back to the physical plane. He was there to handle any threats that made it through the door, the ones not deterred by Jewell?s blinding presence. His teeth ground together, tightening his jaw. ?Who is this ?he? she spoke of?? The faerie shrugged, unconcerned. ?Mira,? he growled out, frustrated with his lady who was not taking this seriously.

?How the hell am I supposed to know??

?I am going in after them. They need my help.?

Her grey eyes narrowed, suddenly firm and cold. ?You will do no such thing. You are staying here.? Where she could see him. Where she could watch him. Where her knight couldn?t possibly get hurt because she was there too.

Ishmerai exhaled his frustration through his nose. ?What can we do then? They have been there too long.?

?I?ll give the connection a little tug. Otherwise? Nothing.?

The knight crossed his arms across his chest, turning to face the tub once more as Jewell pulled on the thread linking her to Mallory, trying to call the girl home.

((Adapted from a scene with Jewell and Ishmerai!))

Across the netherworld, Safiya and Mallory struggled and clawed against the Collector?s grasp, each pinned to the basalt floor, each examined in turn by its beady black eyes, flecks of blood and flesh sloughing away as it swiveled its long head between them.

Both gifted in the dark arcana in your own ways, both such excellent soldiers to add to my ranks... It growled and snapped its teeth through the last word, spilling a gout of hot blood onto Safiya?s throat.

?****ing bastard,? she managed, grimacing as the edge of a claw pressed down on her neck.

And you. The black gaze focused on Mallory. One of her hands flapped and scrabbled against a twisted spire of stone-wrought ivy, but it paid her desperate efforts no mind. There were more interesting things about her? This courtly mask, you will need it no more, it snarled, shredding through Jewell?s glamour as if it were paper, baring Mallory?s horns and goat-like eyes to this being. This mark of a fiend? you are his no more.

The creature swept its claws up through the void, and Mallory screamed as her horns split and crumbled, screamed as her eyes stretched and tore and reknit themselves back into their former shape, screamed as new skin stretched and slithered over the two diminishing bumps shrinking back into her brow.

You are mine now. And you will --

Silver-white light erupted across the stonework, and the Collector shrieked as hooked chains erupted from a luminous magic circle now hovering in front of Safiya?s outstretched hand, tearing through its flesh and wrapping around its twisted ribcage. It clambered up into the archways to tear the tightening bindings loose, releasing the two mages from its grasp.

?Safiya!? Mallory cried, pressing her hand into the spire until blood erupted from her palm -- far too much of it to seem real, its volume and potency amplified by her connection to the Veil. Safiya scrambled to the witch?s side as she began to turn in a circle, using her own blood to draw the first ring as an inversion of the center ring inscribed above Safiya?s tub an entire world away. ?Concentric circles, in, out, in. Hurry!? she cried.

Safiya slathered her hands in Mallory?s arcane-infused blood and continued her grim work, encircling them in a magic circle of increasingly complex design.

Free?! Chains rattled, their length whipped across the archways and broken links skittering across the ancient stonework as the Collector?s awesome strength finally broke Safiya?s bindings. Free to take you? free to join you on the other side! it snarled, winding its way through the massive archways, leaping down them towards the pair.

?Now!? Safiya screamed, and Mallory slapped her bloody hand into the center of the magic circle. The lines bubbled over their boundaries, spreading until they grew into a single red pool -- and Mallory and Safiya fell through.

* * *

Two slick, slippery red bodies gasped and sputtered for air as they erupted out of a tub now brimming with blood, falling onto the tile floor, slipping and struggling to stay on their hands and knees as they coughed to clear their lungs.

?Glad you made it,? was the dry greeting they received from the faerie sitting on the sink, lifting her feet up and away from any splattering blood. She spared them a glance, but what she was really staring at was the door they had come through while she displayed expert hand-eye coordination by feeding herself more chips.

?Safiya, you okay?? Mallory asked, crawling over to the other woman to check on her. Writhing tentacles wriggled through the gaping hole in the wall and slapped against the tile floor. ?Jewell, what the **** is that sound?!?

?Ishmerai?s doing a thing.?

?Mira!? the knight shouted from the kitchen as he splashed a bucket of holy water into the beak and tentacle monster?s face. The thing screamed, chilling him to the bone. ?The door!?

?Yeah,? she said through a mouth full of chips, unconcerned. ?I know.? The Collector was approaching the doorway to cross over. She could See it, this creature which had severed the link she had created with Mallory so easily. The spirit which had ripped Jewell?s glamour away from the witch. It could see her, but the presence of the sidhe did not deter it. It was strong.

That was fine. Jewell was stronger, and feeling insanely calm in the face of the nightmare coming towards them.

?Do something about it!? Ishmerai insisted as he withdrew one of his longer, curved daggers and slashed at Beaky as it came at him again, head melting away and dripping ectoplasm everywhere after the encounter with the holy water. Several of the tentacles tumbled to the floor as the knight hacked at it relentlessly, trying to force his way through to get to his lady.

?Uhuh,? she held the bag of chips up. Nothing but crumbs! ?In a second.? The portal?s bloody surface bubbled forebodingly. The Collector would soon emerge from within. Jewell tipped her head back and emptied the crumbs into her mouth.

?JEWELL!? The knight withdrew his other dagger, gutting the creature in front of him and then shoving it aside. He stormed towards the hole in the wall that lead to the bathroom, the struggling young girls, the high as hell faerie, and The Collector.

Jewell crumbled the bag up, tossed it in the sink, and brushed her hands off on her pants. Then she waited another moment, watching the spirit?s form coalesce as it pulled itself out of the crimson portal, one long gangly limb at a time. Safiya and Mallory slipped and scrambled, backing up to either side of Jewell. The witch plucked an amulet from within her soaked shirt, flames leaping from between her fingers as she gripped it; beside her, Safiya worked furiously, trying to draw a circle in the air when all she could focus on was the nightmarish form of her captor and tormentor rising out of her bathroom tub.

Each limb was a combination of spurred bones and bloody tendon, unfolding one after another, pulling itself upright until a long, grinning head emerged, followed by the twisted length of its spiraling, cage-like torso. Its beady eyes ticked over the beings it pursued here, and then the two strangers. Then it took in the alien features of the cramped studio apartment, and realized it had arrived in the land of the living.

?Freedom!? it crowed, stepping onto the slick bathroom floor.

Easily switching her Sight over, the faerie finally moved. Holding her right hand out in front of her in a ?stop? gesture, her fingers curled down into her palm as she seized control of every ounce of liquid in the creature?s now physical body as it reached one spidery, clawed leg out towards the girls.

It froze. She grinned.

With a sweeping gesture towards the showerhead, she yanked the liquid from The Collector?s body. The fluids burst through its tissues and tendons in every direction, spraying every inch of the smallbathroom as its physical body was torn asunder, leaving behind the swirling black mass of its sadistic spirit.

?Ghour fi dahya!? It sounded less like a spell and more like a swear, but when Safiya completed the circle and closed her fist, a column of air wrapped around the spirit and slammed it straight down. The spirit went screaming through the portal as the force of the spell continued right through it, shattering the tub with the impact.

Blood erupted outward, splattering across the ceiling, the walls, the floor, and the apartment?s four unlucky inhabitants.

?**** me running,? said Mallory.

Jewell?s brows knit together as she tried to wipe some of the blood off her face. All that really accomplished was to smear it around. ?Hrm??

?Is everyone okay?? Ishmerai, the only responsible adult, asked.

?Think so.?

?Five by five.?

?Who the **** are you people??

((Adapted from a scene with Jewell and Ishmerai!))

The witch went looking for Ishmerai at the Mill.

She didn?t stand out as much as her first visit nearly a year ago, with her underfed look and her ratty clothes, but even with a steady paycheck and food in her belly, luxury still made her feel like a stranger in a strange land. There were curious looks, and while only a few were hostile, most seemed to say outsider with the up-and-down scans, the attention to her short hair and boyish clothes, her too-many tattoos. None of it was enough to get her hackles up; it just made her that much more aware of the space she occupied.

The staff didn?t give her the same pitying looks this time, but they were still polite. A short, smiling question received a short, smiling answer: ?Mallory St. Martin, here to see Sir Ishmerai -- Lady Ta-Neer?s knight.?

She stood by a cluster of armchairs, leaning on a pillar, reading an old green book with faded golden letters and yellowing pages, a copy of the Physiologus in its Greek and Armenian versions. Her middle finger had paused on an image of an ancient, tentacled sea monster, breaking a trireme in two.

A green haired fae, in a stylish business suit that was somehow complimented by her hairstyle of choice, accompanied the receptionist back to the desk. ?Ms. St. Martin?? she looked to Mallory expectantly. ?Today is Ishmerai?s day for training. You?ll actually find him across the street at the gym with the girls.?

That she would not be alone for her questions provided small comfort to the witch, but she managed a polite smile and a thank-you for the two fae who?d helped her. She didn?t bother putting the beanie back on for the quick jog across the street, clutched in her fist as she approached what did not look like a gym from the outside. There was only a simple warehouse with two old steel doors, and a Latin motto etched into the brickwork around them. The sight made her hesitate.

So did her nerves.

?Nihil obstat,? she chided herself aloud, and pushed in through the doors, entering a well-lit, cream-colored hallway that seemed to stretch the length of the building. She saw several doors on the right, a single stairwell, and large double doors on the left that, from the clanging of weights and weapons, she guessed was the main part of the gym. She could hear several women?s voices, calling out encouragement to each other, and she wrung her beanie in her hands as she picked her way into the larger room, seeking out the fae knight and his charges.

?Hey-yo! New recruit,? one woman called out before planting her foot in her opponent?s chest and sending her to the ground. It was enough to capture the attention of the more than half dozen women of Summer in the room and their leader, who had been weaving his way between them, offering advice, tips, and criticism.

Ishmerai glanced towards the door and switched course away from the set of twins sparring with whips, ?Get back to work, ladies!?

?Yes sir!? one shouted mockingly, a young girl with a long red braid, laughing as she saluted the fae knight. There were a few other echoes of the same, and one juvenile twitter of, ?Ooo-oo Merai?s got a girlfriend!? as the knight approached the young witch.

?Mallory, this is unexpected. Is everything all right??

Mallory worked very hard to finish biting back all the snickering laughter that threatened to escape, and fully compose herself, by the time Merai reached her. ?Yeah, I?m fine,? she said, initially surprised by the question, shaking her head at him. ?Am I really in trouble that often??

He blinked once. ?Yes.?

The girls of Summer calling out at and about her hadn?t flustered her, but his flat answer made her ears burn. ?Oh.? She realized how much she was pulling at her hat and forced her fingers to loosen, trying to relax her arms. ?That?s? kind of why I?m here.? She glanced around at the girls, then back at him, silently debating how private she should make this conversation.

There was a hint of amusement in the corner of his mouth. It curled ever so slightly. ?Because you are in trouble again?? He quickly offered, ?We can go upstairs to speak if you would like.?

She nodded her assent, falling in behind him as he led the way out of the gym, casting a few curious looks back at the sparring partners behind her as they left. Only one made a kiss-y noise after them.

As soon as the door shut behind them in the ?club? area upstairs, the noise from downstairs was muffled even though they could still see the action through the windows. ?Would you like something to drink?? he asked as he moved over to the magically managed fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. He offered her a second one.

?Thanks,? she said, unscrewing the cap reflexively, though all the drink did for now was cool her hands. She studied his face for a long, quiet moment, taking time to choose her words carefully. ?I didn?t want to say anything, in front of,? she tipped her bottle at the windows and the recently-jeering girls below, ?but? Thank you. For having my back. I didn?t see you at that club,? she added, still leery of saying Tartarus aloud in case the wrong ears heard, ?but I didn?t need to, to know you were out there. I?m lucky to have friends I can rely on? and I hope you know you can count on me, too,? she finished, and turned away quickly with another look at the windows, tilting her bottle back for a long drink.

He smiled, understanding. ?The girls are very? mischievous, as befits the lady they serve.? He took an unneeded sip of water before responding to the latter. Her thanks. Her offer. The disciplined knight wasn?t exactly sure how to feel about any of it. ?There is nothing to thank me for, Mallory. I am just glad that you are safe, and I hope you did not suffer too greatly while you waited for our aid.?

It didn?t feel good to lie, but it felt at least as bad to dwell on what Samuel Adder had done to her, over the course of her captivity or her whole life. So she didn?t. ?I don?t?? She stopped, breathed a sigh, refocused. ?I don?t think? the kind of **** I?ve faced this year will ever just? go away. I?m a witch. There?s power in my blood? I can speak to the dead, and open doors between worlds, and snatch glimpses of the future? I?m from a place and a family I know nothing about? and I?ve made enemies with devils, and allies with demons and fae.?

She tore her gaze from the windows, and the women sparring on the main floor, to look back at him. ?I want to know how to fight.?

That was unexpected. ?Excuse me??

Mallory did not seem at all dissuaded by his shock. In fact she stepped up closer to him, putting her empty hand out imploringly. ?Teach me how to be quick on my feet. How to avoid a hit, or take it better, and get back on my feet so I can put my fingers in their face and hurt them before they hurt me.? Her eyes widened, flaring slightly as she took him in.

?Ah,? understanding crossed his face. ?Yes, you are rather tiny. But do you see this girl?? He stopped just short of putting his hand on her shoulder to turn her around, nodding to the window as he stepped closer and pointed out one of the women below. She was half-elven at most, petite, her dark hair pulled back in a long braid. ?That is Almast. The girls call her Ally. She is perhaps the smallest, but she can take out a man twice her size with a few quick blows. The other girls do not like to fight her.? He looked down at Mallory. ?This is what you want to be able to do??

She followed him slowly to the window, watching Almast as she moved quickly across her sparring square, her rapid flurry of blows coming up just short of her opponent but still sending her tumbling backwards off the edge of the mat. ?My physical blows will never be that strong? but if you can teach me how to avoid a succubus? lashing tail or a demon?s swinging claws while I move my body and my hands to where they need to be?? She looked down at her left hand, open but tensing, claw-like. ?My magic can take care of the rest.?

?I can teach you these things if you would like me to,? he paused, ?as long as it does not disrupt my other duties.? He turned from the window, ?We can make you strong. Perhaps even strong enough to take down a fae knight.? Mallory?s eyes widened at the prospect of facing him, but Ishmerai only smiled faintly back at her. ?That is the real test.?

((Adapted from live play with Ishmerai, with thanks!))

?Wait?? Jewell rubbed her pointer and middle finger roughly into her temple, massaging it against a budding headache, ?explain it again. We don?t have to do some crazy surgery after we find a suitable heart??

They were sitting around the kitchen table now with steaming mugs of very strong coffee in front of them. Except Jewell. ?No caffeine for you,? Sapphire had ordered, setting down a cup of herbal tea instead.

The coffee had a sobering effect on Mallory, and she seemed a little more herself as she set the mug down -- or at least she was not displaying her darker impulses so openly now. ?No,? she said, and drummed her left ring finger on the cover of the ancient green tome sitting on the table in front of her. ?Instead we do things the old-fashioned way -- the very old-fashioned way. Legends hold that the old gods of the forest did not always have the cunning illusions and mutable flesh the fae are known for,? her gaze ticking from Ishmerai, to Sapphire, back to Jewell. ?The illusions? that doesn?t matter. What we?re after is the flesh.

?The old gods deceived and betrayed each other like they still do, but they used magic like the Rite of First Equinox to murder each other and steal each other?s essence. They could do it the same way you shape the water, or I conjure fire and shadow, but none of us have that kind of power? so we need a piece of the old gods, or something they valued dearly, something they touched, to complete the ritual -- ?

Mallory drew her hand away from the ancient book, a subtle whisper from within its pages drawing her gaze with the temptation of forbidden knowledge? but she looked away, opening her hands to the others at the table. ? -- and replace your heart with that of a fae equal to your power. Behaving as it always did within their own body, yet also as if you had always had that heart.?

?This is very dark magic, Mallory.?

?Who cares?? Sapphire snapped at the knight. ?It?s what we were looking for, isn?t it? Better than the surgery Auntie Eva suggested with all the drugs and limitations. Mallory says it will behave like her own. That?s what you want, isn?t it mama?? She looked at Jewell, who just nodded.

?It may be better, but?? Ishmerai conceded unwillingly, ready to issue a warning.

Sapphire carried right on over him. ?And there?s probably no chance of her body rejecting the heart, right? No weird side-effects. None of that. What more could we ask for??

Jewell didn?t speak up right away. Her thoughts were racing, fighting furiously against the mix of drugs she had taken to help her sleep in an attempt to understand, to see the matter clearly, and make a good decision because Ishmerai was right: this was very dark magic Mallory was talking about. Dangerous magic.

The knight and the blue haired wonder were still arguing when Jewell finally addressed Mallory, ?We would need a heart of equal value, you said. Of a faerie equal to me?? Her smile was wry and a bit regretful, ?Not to ruin this plan or speak too highly of myself, but that will not be easy to find or obtain. Where do you propose that we find such a heart??

All the wind went out of Sapphire?s sails at that and she sunk back in her seat, quiet.

?I?m not too keen on killing another family member. It?s already gotten me into quite a bit of trouble with the High Court in the past, you know.? And then some. To kill a sidhe equal to herself was costly. The death of Conventina had stripped her of her magic. To become capable of taking Muirenn down, she had sacrificed her name. Jewell had very little left to sacrifice. Nothing she was willing to give up. And who was there left to kill anyway?

Mallory had taken up her coffee again, trying very much to focus on its heat and on the substance of everyone?s arguments and not the way the old book seemed to look at her. She hummed thoughtfully as she took a slow sip. She did not have intimate knowledge of Jewell?s history, but knew enough to gather that trouble with the High Court had kicked everything off with the Temple and the CPA.

She shook her head faintly at Jewell, a silent admission of I don?t know, and fell deeper into her own thoughts as the silence weighed heavily around them. There were so many pieces to this puzzle: the jackal; the feather; Iustitia with her sword; the crumbling heart; the intricate rivulets of blood; the ivy throne?

Jewell swirled the spoon around in her tea, mixing in the liberal amount of honey Sapphire had added. Lyre could work, but she wasn?t so sure a man?s heart was equal to her own. No, she was sure that it wasn?t. That of a fae equal to your power. She would not touch Lorelei. Lorelei was probably more powerful than her anyway. She ran her hand through her messy, white hair, frustrated. Who was her equal? She turned to look at Ishmerai, the question on her lips, and saw Mallory staring intently at her face when it clicked. Oh.

?Belladonna,? the witch whispered, appearing surprised at herself, and looked around at them. ?Will anyone give two ****s if we murder her??

?My own heart,? Jewell said softly, tempering the sudden excitement that had swelled up inside of her. ?Of course.? She looked at Ishmerai eagerly.

?It could work,? he admitted.

?It could.?

?It will not be easy to best her a second time,? he warned.

?No,? Jewell agreed, ?she is stronger now.? Her heart constricted painfully when she realized what she must ask of him: ?And we will need the relic too.?

Ishmerai?s hand found hers beneath the table and squeezed it. No other words were needed between them.

Meanwhile, the conversation between the two younger girls on the other side of the table had carried on without them, with Sapphire hugging Mallory tightly and proclaiming her the best and brightest ever. Now she leapt up out of her seat, intent on making a giant stack of pancakes in celebration, heedless of the details being worked out between the adults. ?All right! Let?s kill that bitch and steal her heart!?

((Adapted from live play!))

The catwalk where Moriko stood as bait, clutching her wounds and shivering feverishly, was blood-slick and scattered with the remains of the fae reaver, his serrated silver cleavers laying at her feet. Somewhere down below them in the darkness the sluagh lay where it had fallen, its ghoul-like form letting out its last panicked shrieks as Mallory?s blood-conjured wolves sundered its rotting flesh.

And the witch herself had placed herself between Moriko and a fae knight, clad in armor of hard black chitin and shimmering red scales, wielding a barbed staff of wood and bone. She grinned unkindly at the mortal girl, seemingly undeterred by the fact that she?d already dispatched the unhinged sociopath and the undead beast that had barreled blindly into an ambush.

?It?s only your Third Eye she needs,? the knight hissed through her interlocking fangs as she stalked up the stairs to the catwalk. ?The others, I?ll be taking to remember you by.?

Mallory said nothing. Her hands were empty, but for the vines that curled around her left arm and pierced her palm with their thorns. Her gaze was not on the fae knight, but on the heavy chains that dangled near the top of the stairs, and the crucible that hung from it. She waited until she heard the sound of the staff slicing through the air, and curled her right hand around an invisible hilt.

Merciful luck, lend me a blade.

The witch let out a sharp cry as the staff came down on her shoulder as a mantle of shadows flared out to protect her neck, and the weapon bruised and bit deep into her flesh, deep enough for the knight to try to rip it out; deep enough to keep her rooted in place, as one of the heavy chains snapped, the iron within called into Mallory?s outstretched hand.

There was no time for so much as a scream, as the crucible tipped a shower of molten steel onto the fae?s head first. It cracked away her armor, burned through her flesh, and heated the stairs until, white-hot, they gave way beneath her weight. What remained of her body, and almost an entire curcible of hot metal, fell to the floor below where they glowed like a massive bonfire.

A whip of iron links dangled from the witch?s hand, glowing orange and yellow and white where they had passed through the shower of steel. There were more of them out there -- she could hear singing in the darkness around her, someone mocking her -- and she growled out a warning:

?Come and taste it, you bastards.?

?Mallory!?

Moriko?s warning cry came a split-second too late, as the witch turned to face a pair of knife-like bolts of magic flickering out of the darkness. One just missed her, grazing her chin as she whipped her head away from it; but the other hit her center mass, wracking her body with searing pain as it coursed through her like electricity. She coughed violently and held onto the railing to keep herself on her feet, hauling herself backwards towards Moriko.

Nimble feet, clad in soft black leather, alighted on the catwalk with a gentle metallic echo, and Old Jack rose up from his crouch to loom over Mallory, his silver teeth and silver claws glowing by the light of the molten steel. ?Where ya goin?, girlies? Headin? for the door so soon?? he hissed, his dark and gleaming eyes watching his quarry limp down the catwalk away from him. In one fluid motion he scooped up a cleaver from the fallen reaver, running his tongue along the back of the blade. When it touched the tip, his tongue bled black, and he curled a smile at the pair of them.

Fire erupted from the witch?s right palm, and she curled her flame-licked fingers around the glowing chains at the end of her whip, setting her feet wide to stand her ground against the advancing eladrin. His smile only grew.

?So good of you to stay an? dance with Ol? Jack.?

With a flick of her wrist and a sharp cry of anger, Mallory released the end of the whip from her fiery grasp and lashed out at the eladrin, striking him across the face. He gasped at the precise blow and glowered across the short distance at her, cradling the deep iron burn along his jaw with his palm. His skin was ruptured and torn, exposing his back molars in an exaggerated grin.

These weren?t the clumsy, desperate moves of the witch he?d met at Samhain. Someone had been teaching her.

He was ready for the next strike, deflecting it easily with the silver cleaver and countering with a clean slice that bit through the outside of her thigh. She stumbled away from his follow-through, avoiding his reckless attempt to slash open her belly, but when she turned to flee, she paid for it when he raked his claws across her lower back.

She fell into the railing and the whip dropped from her hands, slithering off the catwalk and into the darkness below. Find your feet. Even outclassed by this eladrin assassin, Ishmerai?s lessons guided her steps, and she whirled to face Jack as she backed towards Moriko again, blowing a long breath through the fire leaping from her fingers. It billowed out into a hot, searing cloud, but the eladrin merely hung back to avoid its sting before he continued his inexorable advance.

It bought them seconds, but they needed more than that. She had so little blood to spare, and they were running out of catwalk.

Eri?s glowing eyes fixed on the sight of Jack pursuing and attacking Mallory as she extracted herself from beneath the bloody mass that had been the Phouka. Their lantern glow flashed brighter as a loud hiss issued from her mouth. She?d already fought with the eladrin once before, and seen his speed and agility in action, so she held back the instinct to charge, instead moving forward in a quiet trot with the spike held up in an icepick grip.

When he hung back to avoid the fire billowing from Mallory?s fingers, Eri struck.

She aimed her spike at the junction of Jack?s neck and shoulder, but the sadistic fae?s quick reactions saved him from that likely fatal strike, hearing the half oni?s approach in time to take the blow to his shoulder instead. The acute steel point gouged his flesh and cracked bone, and he choked back a scream behind his sharp silver teeth. ?One? at a? time!?

He retaliated with a swift swing of the cleaver, burying the serrated weapon in Eri?s upper arm.

The shock of the metal striking bone jolted the spike from Eri?s grasp, but the cleaver was too deeply embedded in her arm for Jack to retrieve. Toe to toe now they grappled at each other, pushing and grasping in a desperate bid for the upper hand. His claws ripped at Eri?s back while her teeth locked onto the fae?s defending wrist with tenacity.

?Girlie, that?s my favorite hand? I like that hand!? he snarled, as building magical power cracked and burned between his fingers, turning slowly in Eri?s jaw to push in towards her face.

Moriko grabbed onto his arm from behind, and he tried to turn to snarl at her? and found the movement stopped by the witch?s long, slender fingers gripped tightly around the back of his head. ?You?ll burn for hurting her,? she hissed in his ear.

There was nothing to do but scream as the magical fire spread quickly through his hair, clawing desperately at his scalp with one hand and struggling to pull the other one free from the oni?s jaws, tearing tendon and scraping bone with the effort.

When Jack released his claws from her back to claw at his burning head, Eri?s hands were swift to grab the eladrin around his neck. As she held him aloft, she saw the second crucible, dangling off to the side of the catwalk and filled to the brim with molten steel. She bared her misaligned canines once more in a cruel grin, and the delinquent gave Jack one final shove over the railing.

The eladrin?s final moments were spent with his eyes locked onto the eerie yellow glow of Eri?s gaze, his burning face twisted with malice. He didn?t scream when he landed in the crucible, and in seconds his flesh was consumed by the rising flames, leaving his teeth and claws to melt away into the steel.

?**** that guy,? Mallory said, joining Eri at the railing to peer down at what little remained of the sadistic eladrin. Then she looked at the thorny vines winding their way around her arm, biting deeper into her skin as she willed it, and breathed a long sigh. There wasn?t much left in her tanks? just enough to get them home.

?C?mon. Let?s -- ? She stopped, blinking at her girlfriend. ?Eri.?

Eri looked up from the surface of the steel in the crucible to meet Mallory?s eyes. ?Hm?? she asked, looking concerned.

The witch gestured incredulously at the massive cleaver still sticking out of her: ?Eri, your bloody arm.?

Eri looked horrified, her eyes and teeth returning to normal as shock replaced the anger of the fight. She wrenched the cleaver free and dropped it with a grimace, complaining in a whiney, nagging tone: ?Owww.?

Mallory sighed sadly at Eri?s pain. Thank Fate she can regenerate. She reached out one bloody hand to Eri?s shoulder and the other to Moriko?s, shut her eyes, and willed her bloodflow to quicken --

-- and in a flash of black smoke and crimson light, they vanished.

* * * * *

Only one fae made it out of the foundry alive. He cowered on his knees before Belladonna on the cobblestone streets of Dockside, his skin lashed and burned with iron.

?What do you mean they got away??

?I?m s-s-sorry, my queen, but the witch? she did her Veilstride again and--?

Belladonna?s shriek of rage drowned out whatever else he planned to say. She wrapped her hand around his throat and lifted him up to his feet, shaking him with every word: ?How. Could. You. Let. Them. Get. AWAY!?

His response was a gurgled, rasping attempt at a defense. She clearly didn?t like what she heard because Belladonna kept squeezing until he couldn?t say anything at all. Couldn?t breathe either. She enjoyed the feeling of his life ebbing away and grinned as he clawed at her forearm in a desperate bid to live.

?Mmm,? she sighed as she let him go. It was no use seeking the witch tonight. They had likely made it back to Kabuki Street already.

That was fine. They would just have to play another day.

((Adapted from live play with Eri and Belladonna!))