Lawrence awoke slow. He sat on the rough ground. His back was against a pole. His wrists were tied behind it and his ankles together. Someone had thrown a bag over his head. He tilted his head. He tested his bindings.
“Don’t move,” a female voice said. A finger hooked under the bag and slid along his skin. The string loosened. The finger lifted. Someone drew the bag off him. Lawrence blinked. The world was dark. Someone lit his lantern. Lawrence saw several tall figures, most of them humanoid. All were indistinct blurs.
“Do you remember us?” someone held up the lantern. Light illuminated demonic faces.
“I can’t see without my glasses.”
“Oh. Hey, redhead. Give him his glasses.”
“Here Lawrence.” Lily’s red hair swam into view. Up close, Lawrence could make out the features of her face. She wore a light jacket and had a technicolor parasol under one arm. She pulled his glasses from their case, opened the bars, and carefully placed them on his face. They slid down his nose. “Better?” Lily asked.
“You smashed the nosepieces,” Lawrence said. “And there’s finger smudges on the lenses. I may as well still be blind. They must be cleaned. I have a cleaning cloth in my pocket. The special spray is in my bag of holding.”
“We can’t let you out yet,” Lily murmured.
“Why not?”
“Because we don’t trust you, yet,” a cool female voice said. A diminutive woman with auburn hair and a camouflage uniform entered his vision. She wore a handgun on her hip opposite a steel nightstick. “You need to Contract with us. At least two, per the rules, but I’m requiring four. Me, Larissa, Kat, and Hyene. Fifty-strength. Each.”
“What do I get if I do?”
“You get to be a member of Parasol Parade,” the woman continued. “We need a faustian, and Lilith says you’re pretty good. You get friends who’ll watch your back. A stable job, money, food, water. Humans to hang out with. You know, people who can keep an eye on you.”
“What makes you think I need anyone keeping an eye on me?”
“Because you’re just a kid,” the cool female said. “The demons might not think you need a guardian, but I do. You almost got yourself killed as soon as you wandered away from your friends. Somehow you survived—we still need to talk about how, but right now, you need to Contract with us.”
“Parasol Parade,” Lawrence whispered. “And if I don’t?”
“Infernal Innovations has this new thing called a portable torture palace,” the woman continued in the same cool, indifferent tone. “You’ll get shelled and ground into a wastrel, left to regenerate in some cell, then the whole thing starts all over. It is torture. It will hurt. And you’ll be damned. So, no escaping off to heaven or something.”
“I’ll do it,” Lawrence said without hesitation. “I’ll join you.”
“Repeat after me…”
Lawrence closed his eyes. He felt like he was signing his life away.
“I, Doctor Lawrence, enter into this contract of my own free will, without coercion, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.”
“You have to say the whole thing,” the cool female said.
“Blah blah blah. I contract with you. Blah blah blah.”
“That’s not how it goes.”
“Skip.”
“You need to—”
“Skip.”
“Listen kid—” the voice snapped.
“You want me to contract,” Lawrence shouted. He opened his eyes. A diminutive soldier-woman stared down at him. The two vertical bars on her shoulder and helmet signified she was a captain. Lawrence registered this as he looked her in the eye. His mouth threw his brain in the backseat and plowed ahead. “I contract. It’s done. Now get me out of here.”
“You can’t just skip the contract, kid.” The captain said. Arms crossed. Face flushed. Drill sergeant voice engaged. “That’s not how it works.”
She cussed at him for a long time. Lawrence found it hard to look her in the eyes. It was much easier to look at her belt buckle. While she yelled, the other demons shuffled their feet. Lily looked uncomfortable. More than one demon stuck his head through the tent flaps, looked around once, then made a hasty retreat.
After a long time, the captain ran out of steam.
“IS THAT CLEAR?”
“Yup-puh.”
“IS. THAT. CLEAR?”
“I heard you the first time,” Lawrence’s mouth moved on autopilot. “Cupcake.”
A vein pulsed in the captain’s forehead. Lily covered her face. Behind the captain, one of the demons scratched the back of his or her neck.
Lawrence stared at the wall of the tent as if he could bore a hole through it with his will. Hey, waitaminute. He had Irresistible Current of Will. He could force his will, shape it, generally use it to dominate others. The corner of his mouth quirked.
He leveled his gaze at the screaming woman. He slammed his will into her like a battering ram. The effect was similar to a 200-lb man decking her. Lightning shot outward from the space between them. The captain’s head snapped back and sideways. She spun around and collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
“Uhhgh,” she groaned. She got to her feet. “Whuh? What… happened?”
“He hit you with a blast of something,” one of the demons said.
“Did he now?” the captain focused on him. “Is that true, kid?”
“I don’t appreciate being screamed at, lady.” Lawrence gathered his will.
“Article 90 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice states that attacking or disobeying a superior officer is punishable by ten years in prison, dishonorable discharge, and forfeiture of all pay and allowances, but usually just a demotion.” The captain rubbed her jaw. Already a big ugly bruise blossomed. “If you apologize…”
“I’m not apologizing,” Lawrence said. “I said I would join, no resistance no strings attached no articles of surrender no nuthin’. Instead I get screamed at.”
“You need to complete the binding words,” the captain said. “Otherwise the contract is null and void.”
“The Contract isn’t null and void just because I skipped part of it. I’m giving my word. If you knew anything about Contracts you’d know that’s how it works. Some demons interpret the letter. Others, the spirit.”
“I don’t trust halfbreed demons any more than I trust demons.” The captain squatted down to his level. She spoke in a forced, even tone. “Now you listen to me. You say the words, and I’ll let you out of there. But if you hit me again…” her hand strayed to her hip.
Lawrence let her have the full blast of his gathered will right in the face. The shockwave blew out the tent’s sides and made Lawrence’s lantern—hung overhead from the pole to which he was tied—shake, and force everyone present take a step back. The captain flew across the space of the tent. She was saved from breaking her neck by the cat-demon behind her, whose hair and tail stood on end.
Lawrence waited for the captain to rise, but she didn’t. The blue lady jammed two fingers against the captain’s throat.
“She’s alive.”
“Oh good," Lawrence said sarcastically. "Is someone gonna get me outta here?”
“Miss Lilith?” the blue lady said.
Lily crouched behind Lawrence. He heard steel slid on leather. She cut the bindings from around his wrists. She moved around to his ankles to cut their bindings. She glanced furtively at his face and away.
“Just to be clear,” the blue lady said. “You agree to join us? For a fifty-strength Contract?”
“Yup.” Lawrence rubbed his wrists. Now he was free, he took out his microfiber cloth and cleaning solution. He first bent his nose-pieces back into place, as best he could, then he cleaned his lenses. “I just don’t like getting screamed at. That military stuff? She needs to check her attitude. I don’t appreciate it.”
“She might want to kill you when she wakes up,” Lily said. She didn’t look at him.
“If she does, I’ll blow her head off. I still have a few bullets left. I agreed to join your team but I’m not agreeing to get yelled at. Or quarter-decked.”
The demons looked at each other.
“What’s a quarter deck?” the hyena guy asked.
“It’s a raised area behind the main mast of a ship,” Lawrence explained with a weary air. “In modern times it’s an area of the barracks where marines get sent to do lots of physical exercise, often as a punishment. Marine term.”
“Captain Ferguson is an Army Officer,” the hyena-guy said.
“I know. The uniform gives it away. Doesn’t matter. The word might be Marine Corp, the concept exists across all branches. Commanding Officers like to use physical exercise as punishment for offenses, especially in training, which is what I assume she’ll think I’m in since I’m new. No thank you.”
“You don’t like training?” the blue lady stepped forward. She offered a hand to help him up. “I’m Larissa, by the way.”
“I don’t like exercise. Running, lifting weights, and stuff.” Lawrence took the hand. He frowned. “I thought your name was Commas?”
“It was. I had it legally changed.” Larissa shrugged. “Wasn’t a good name anyway. Larissa is much better.”
“Lily?” Lawrence turned to the red-headed half-infiltrator. “Is your name really that of an ancient Babylonian sea demon who ate men?”
“Yes, and it was males, not men.” Lily folded her arms. Her expression was neutral.
“So… was I just food? A hog you were raising until I got big enough to slaughter?”
“You were never food.” Lily’s voice was neutral. “We were friends. I could have killed you at Nimue’s Tower. I didn’t. I could have done it any number of times. I didn’t. Face it, Law. You wouldn’t be alive today if not for me.”
Lawrence shut his mouth. His cheeks burned. He looked at the floor.
“Come on, kid.” The blue lady took him by the hand. “There’s something you need to see.”
“I can walk myself.” Lawrence took his hand away.
Larissa shrugged. She led him outside. Lily fell into step beside him, followed by the other demons. Outside the tent, Lawrence saw more tents. It was a cluster of tents here and there where important demons did whatever business they thought important. Between the tent-islands lay a vast, swirling sea of demons. It seemed every demon had a job. None sat around napping.
Lawrence saw servants mixed among the monsters. He saw humans and a few aliens: the Greys, orcs, even a mermaid—she wore levitating pool floaties on her upper arms, and little else. Her mistress, a statuesque woman with a huge witch’s hat, pulled her through the air with a collar and short leash.
“Over here,” Larissa said. She stopped at the edge of a depression.
Boom.
Lawrence jumped. A pile driver sat nearby, hammering the ground. Lawrence saw no stake being driven, just a heavy weight being repeatedly slammed into the ice and rock. He felt the shockwave reverberate under his feet. He hadn’t heard the noise with all the camp’s background chatter, but now it was unmistakable.
“Is that a thumper?”
“No, thumpers attract ice worms. That is a restrictor. It repels them. The shockwaves drive them away.”
“Vibrations attract, shockwaves repel. Got it.”
“Down there is the dungeon.” Larissa pointed. The depression sank fifty feet into the ice. Down at the bottom sat a pair of towering double doors decorated with reliefs of many-legged creatures.
“Those look like spiders,” Lawrence said.
“Some of them have more than eight legs,” Larissa said. “I wanted you to see it before they open it. We’ll be part of the first wave. You’re staying back here for now. Ferg wants you to see something.”
“Okay.”
“This way.” Larissa led him to another section of camp. The tents here had rich colors: red, purple, dark blue, black, emerald. Fiends stood at attention everywhere. Imps and avians flitted overhead. Larissa led him into a cavernous, dark tent.
It was a bar. A circular table filled most of the space. The bartender on duty was an alien with purple skin covered in green spots, enormous black, pupil-less eyes, two heads, six arms, and three-fingered hands. Demons, aliens, and human mercenaries lounged around tables. Larissa picked one of the unoccupied tables along the wall and put her back to the room.
“Sit opposite me, Lawrence.”
Lawrence sat. Lily took the seat on his right. Hyene stood behind Larissa as if guarding her. Kat prowled in a circle before standing on her hind legs. And Wrench hopped onto a chair.
“Pay attention, kid, because this is your future. Our future.” Larissa lowered her voice. She jerked her head to the side. “See those guys in black robes over my shoulder? Black Licorice. The faustian group allied with Thug Swarm.”
“Okay.” Lawrence looked straight at them. They had elaborate, flowing robes with deep hoods and spiky shoulder pads like Jafar from Aladdin. Most of them kept their faces covered, even in the tent’s darkness. “Why do they call themselves after a candy?”
“One of their specialties is sugar-based spells. They’re important because we were originally members of Thug Swarm. We still are, but that may change. Our leader’s been assassinated; our Contracts are voided. Black Licorice is always looking for new apprentices, and they offer a fast track to power. They’re popular with young faustians, and they make the hellkin feel fear.”
“How is that?”
“Most faustians don’t like upsetting the status quo,” Lily interrupted. “There are several big orders. Each has a different view of morality. House of Merlin founded Nimue’s Tower, then it broke into the Merlin League and the Order of Merlin. The League studies sorcery for its own sake. Most of their towers are on Emptiness or hidden places on Tempest.”
“You’re offering me a choice of which faction to join,” Lawrence said.
“Exactly.” Larissa smiled. “Black Kat is more of a movement or ideology than a formal organization. They embrace corruption for the power and hate the hellkin.”
Lawrence reflected if he had Access, he could easily see himself falling into Black Kat. He wanted arcane power, and embracing corruption was the quickest path. Furthermore, most hellkin were, well, not much better than animals.
“Order of Goetic Science dislike the hellkin and study sorcery for its own sake. They’re usually hunted as terrorists.” Lily looked up at the ceiling, remembering a document she saw or wrote. “They hide in the Free Cities. Maybe a dozen members. Hecate’s Daughters is female-only. And the other important one is House of Magnus.”
“Gnat told me about them. Them and the Order of Malefice are allied with Infernal Innovations, right? House of Magnus is made of alien mortals, regular mortals, and half-demons. Lots of work, lots of resources. I.I.’s resources are stretched. Lots of opportunity.”
“We want you to join Black Licorice,” Larissa said. “We are part of Thug Swarm, as are they.”
“Doesn’t House of Magnus have their own House Mutation Skill?” Lawrence asked. “Corruption Manipulation, Sorcerer’s Will—which is a huge bonus to generating SOL units... and lichdom?”
Larissa smiled condescendingly. Lily smirked. Hyene’s expression mirrored Larissa’s. Wrench’s mechanical face showed no emotion. Kat looked unimpressed. Lawrence looked from face to face, helpless. It was Lily who took pity on him.
“Those Skills are part of the Faustian Job,” Lily explained. “Corruption Mutation is one of the earliest ones. Most faustians use it to increases their corruption past fifty for a day, then use Fruits of Blasphemy to gain a new mutation. Conversely, they can lower their Corruption under fifty for a day, then ride a Hellgout to leave.”
“Oh.”
“Which you would know,” Larissa lowered her voice below a whisper. Lawrence had to read her lips to know what she said next: “If you had Access.”
Lawrence froze. Cold fear settled in his gut. The demons suddenly looked a lot bigger. All of Parasol Parade looked at him. Lawrence felt like a mouse on display at an animal shelter filled with cats. He gulped.
He took a step back, but the wall of the tent blocked him. He looked over his shoulder at the door. Lily put a hand on his arm, firm, and did not let go.
“Remain calm,” Lily said. “They—we—mean you no harm. Everything still stands. You’re still a member of Parasol Parade. You’re still contracted to us, and us to you.”
“I am not reassured,” he said. The clammy touch of her hand chilled him. It felt like a corpse grabbed him, but Lily was an infiltrator. He tried to remember Mom’s lessons on infiltrator breed Skills. Mesmeric Gaze… Possession, maybe? “What d’you want?”
“There’s a woman here,” Larissa said. “Her name is Josephine. She’s the mistress of a company called the Delightful Choir.”
“I remember. Cannibal- and sex-themed, right?”
“Right. Well, we’ve learned her on-staff faustian is a weakling. Gnat told us. Good job contracting him, by the way. His information is solid.”
“Thanks. I didn’t have much choice.” Lawrence looked at the bar. “Isn’t a waitress gonna come take our order or something?”
“Not that kin’a bar,” a grumpy female voice said. A five-foot-zero woman with auburn hair, blue eyes, and captain’s insignia marched up. She forced her way between two arguing fiends, earning growls of murder and growling right back, elbowed aside Kat, earning a yowl from the beast-succubus, and, in true demonic fashion, claimed a seat at the table. “Hullo, punk. Don’t ever hit me again.”
“Don’t ever yell at me again,” Lawrence retorted.
“Don’t ever yell at me again, sir.”
“There is no need to call me ‘sir,’ madam.”
Lily’s fingernails dug into Lawrence’s arm. Captain Ferg bared her teeth. She rose from her chair as if ready to fight. Larissa hooked a finger into the back of Ferg’s jacket and pulled her down.
“Enough,” the blue lady said. “Captain Ferg. You are not allowed to treat Mister Lawrence like one of your enlisted. He’s a kid, and he hasn’t been through Basic. Mister Lawrence? You are not allowed to disrespect Captain Ferg. She’s kept us alive and led us on several successful missions without mage support. You will address her as ‘captain’ or ‘ma’am.’ Clear?”
“Crystal,” Ferg said.
“Yeah,” Lawrence muttered, looking at the table, and not using the word Ferg did, just to be difficult. Ferg looked like she wanted to smack him. Larissa shut her down with a look.
“We’re going into the dungeon, tonight,” Larissa continued. “Doors open soon, if they haven’t already. People’s [Danger Sense] hasn’t gone—”
The entire tent shifted. One in ten demons and most of the mortal mercenaries sat up straight as if they’d been kicked in the butt. They all turned their heads in the direction of the dungeon entrance. They looked ready to fight or flee. The unaffected ones took notice.
“—off,” Larissa paused with the disturbance. Demons and mortals began filing out the door. “Dungeon’s opened. Must be something bad inside.”
“We’re part of the first wave,” Captain Ferg said. “We better get moving. Doctor, you and Lily will stay behind. She’ll introduce you to Black Licorice. Getting in shouldn’t be too much trouble. Since you don’t have… you know… the membership benefits are all resources. You won’t get any Company Skills, but you will get money and a better set of robes. More bullets.”
“Got it. And Josephine?”
“Find her. Track her. Try to impress her. I don’t know how. This is Lily’s domain. She’ll get you inside, but it’ll be your job to impress the Lady enough she hires you.”
“And why do we want her to hire me?”
“Funding,” Lily explained. “Thug Swarm has opportunities, but we need an exit in case this dungeon doesn’t work. Things are tense as it is. Blood Well and Thug Swarm are at each other’s throats. Add I.I. and their two minions. And Delightful Choir. It’s a hot mess. Something bad is going to happen. If—when—this goes south, we need an out.”
“Black Licorice and Lady Josephine.” Lawrence thought for a moment. “You should write that down. Otherwise, I’ll forget. I also want to check out Order of Malefice.”
“Why?” Lily sighed.
“I summoned the goat-demon Caster.”
“He’s not a goat,” Kat said. “He’s a Hebridean sheep.”
“Whatever.”
“It is not ‘whatever,’ mister Lawrence.” Kat turned her half-lidded cat’s eyes toward him. “Beasts are picky about what animal they choose to embody. You are a beast, are you not? Isn’t there a specific beast you wish to embody?”
“I’m not a beast yet. I don’t. I haven’t.” Lawrence pressed his lips together. “Fine. It doesn’t matter. Sheep. Goat. I don’t care. The point is, he had a ritual I haven’t seen. I need to know more about it.”
“Then summon him and torture it out of him,” Wrench put in. “We don’t have time for this. He’s a weakling. Get what you need and kill him. Use the torture palace if you must; some of the rooms are soundproof. Then get on with the plan.”
Lawrence looked at Lily, who shrugged.
“Fine.”
“Any other questions?” Ferg looked from face to face. All she received were blank stares. “Break.”
The demons hopped off their chairs. Lawrence followed Lily outside.
“Good luck, kid,” Larissa said. “Josephine has a bit of a reputation. Be careful.”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
The demons walked away. The shifting crowd swallowed them. Lawrence followed Lily to one of the black tents near I.I. The Order of Malefice kept their members in cliché black with a skull motif. White skulls on their robes, on their signs, on their tents, on their artifacts, on their port-a-potties. Lawrence walked past a line of plastic, box-shaped houses, from which emanated a peculiar odor. Most were the same color, PVC green or light gray, but a few had been customized by their owners. Order of Malefice painted skulls on theirs.
The door to a larger, horse-sized port-a-potty opened. A black sheep with four horns exited, followed by a mortal servant. A chain connected the servant’s neck to the sheep’s. The servant was a damned. His eyes were blank and his clothes nonexistent, his anatomy like a plastic doll, but he shuffled after Caster with an alertness the damned did not usually possess.
“I don’t believe it,” Lawrence murmured. He hid behind a giant while the little beast passed. “Lily. Why is the soul not trying to escape?”
“Most souls are keen on helping if it means their entire existence isn’t just torture. Slaves paid by withholding punishment.”
“Fun.”
Caster marched past the line of tents toward a steel-walled building assembled from a converted airship. Screams emanated from the windows. Lawrence and Lily followed.
“Are you certain you wish to go in there?” Lily hissed. “It's a torture palace. Most mortals are traumatized from seeing it. They might shell you and throw you in a machine.”
Lawrence slowed. Caster was getting away. The demon did not appear to have noticed them.
“Is there another way to read their spellbooks?”
“Follow me.” Lily led the way through the crowd. Not after Caster, but toward Malefice’s tents. She walked with purpose. Lawrence went a little slower. He kept staring at all the demons and mortals. It wasn’t just the legions of hell. It was human and alien adventurers of all stripes. He saw wealthy, poor, experienced, newb, noob, s-rank, gold-rank, whatever-rank. Space Marines, wizards, enchanters, sword-mages. Hulking axe-wielding barbarians, sexy half-elven druids, edgelord dual-sword-wielding fighters. Assassins with cowls and black leather, dashing rogues with flamboyant berets and silk shirts. Bards, swashbucklers, witch hunters—those two were an old man and younger man. They slowed as Lawrence passed. They looked at him the way policemen eyeballed a shifty-looking, emaciated, red-eyed twitchy guy who needed a fix.
Lawrence’s heart skipped a beat. He looked away first. Both witch hunters wore long dark coats, capotains with prominent buckles, buckles on their coats and pants, silver and steel rapiers, revolvers, bandoleers filled with stakes, holy water, shotgun shells, and more. They were armed to the teeth for monsters. The witch hunters slowed.
Lawrence glanced at them and then away. Both men looked at him, memorizing every detail. The back of his neck prickled.
“There you are.” Lily stepped out of the crowd. She frowned like she wanted to scold, but at the last moment she appeared to change her mind. “We should hold hands.”
“Okay…” Lawrence held out his hand. She interlaced her fingers with his. She tugged him through the crowd. It was much easier to keep track of her this way, and he got to hold hands with a girl. Not just a girl, but a pretty girl he liked. Lawrence let Lily lead him away from the Witch Hunters. He glanced over his shoulder. He swore he saw two capotain hats with big buckles, but there were a lot of people.
“Pay attention to where you’re going,” Lily told him. She led him through a narrow gap between two tents. The hustle and bustle of the camp faded. They stood in a little cluster of Malefice’s tents, though the area was deserted. “Help me look.”
“What are you looking for?”
Lily did not let go. She dragged Lawrence to the first tent. She ran her fingers across the material lengthwise, which he doubted was safe. No doubt they were enchanted, or the motion would alert whomever was inside. She did not answer.
“Uh, Lily?”
“Hush.”
She moved to the next tent. Lawrence looked through the gap. He saw two big black hats with wide brims, flat tops, and metal buckles.
“Um, Lily.”
“Just a second, Lawrence.”
“There are two witch hunters coming this way.”
“They’re after cultists. Depraved mortals often increase their Taboo alongside their Corruption.”
“Then this might be a bad time to tell you I have over a thousand Taboo.”
“Aha, found one.” Lily opened a hidden flap on the back of a tent. Lawrence saw a dark interior lit by candles. A mortal faustian sprawled on the floor, his attention on the slave riding him, a magic circle nearby harvesting the emotions in preparation for a spell. “Wait, what?”
Lily’s head snapped around so fast Lawrence heard the bones crack. She winced and rubbed her neck. Her forehead creased. Her eyes widened. Under her breath, she swore.
“Language,” Lawrence said.
“Pardon my Black Tongue.” She jerked her head at the opening. “Come on.”
Lawrence hopped inside behind a curtain wall. Lily followed and closed the flap after them. She left it cracked. She leaned against the wall, silent. One eye peered out. Lawrence heard two pairs of heavy footsteps stop walking outside the tent. They paused. Lily’s fingers tightened. Lawrence heard two voices muttering.
A long minute passed. The witch hunters left. Lily relaxed. She leaned away from the hidden exit. She put a finger over her lips and beckoned. Lawrence nodded. She took her fingers out of his. She put on a pair of gloves. She drew a dagger and a green cloth. She wiped the dagger with the cloth and put the cloth away. She held the weapon out, careful not to point it at him. Lawrence heard the slave cry out someone’s name. The faustian yelled.
Lily moved out of hiding. Lawrence looked behind the curtain. Like a ghost, she moved up to the couple. She slashed the throat of the man. The woman shrieked as blood flew.
“Some young dame in the throes of love,” a voice outside the tent joked. Multiple men laughed.
“Quiet.” Lily put her weapon against the woman’s throat. “Lawrence. Do whatever you need and let’s go. You. You’re a slave, right? Do you want to come with us? If you stay here, they’ll punish you.”
Lawrence came out from behind the curtain. He looked around. Scarlet blood oozed from the wound. The faustian wasn’t dead yet, but he was dying. He made gurgling sounds. He waved his arms, until Lily kicked him. Lawrence stared at the scene. The guy’s eyes fell on Lawrence. Lawrence saw the moment when he died.
“Lawrence,” Lily hissed.
Lawrence shook himself. He opened all the drawers in the faustian’s desk. He found a collection of papers, but with no time he couldn’t say how valuable. He went to the mage’s—aha. The spellbook. It was black, with a skull on the cover because duh. He also found a long black stick topped with a polished skull, which he thought was a staff, a sack full of precious gems, another of silver and bronze coins, a short black stick tapering to a point, which he thought was a wand, a buckler thrumming with power, two sets of black robes with the aforementioned skulls, a carved skull mask painted white, a chalice thrumming with power, several unusual weapons, a collection of rings thrumming with power, several books made with real paper and genuine human hide covers, a couple bottles of Agony—
“Lawrence,” Lily warned.
“Almost done,” Lawrence muttered.
“We need to go.” Lily watched the tent’s ‘door.’ It was a piece of material, no more than a curtain, and it had no lock. The voices outside got closer.
“You all done in there, Tersk?” someone called. “Come on, we need to get to the meeting.”
“Lawrence.”
“I know.” Lawrence shoved everything into his bag of holding. “Okay. I’m done.”
“Listen girl,” Lily told the slave.
“Help,” the girl yelled. “Help me.”
Cursing, Lily slammed the butt of her knife into the girl’s head. Lawrence took one of the lit candles and held it under the curtain.
“Did you hear someone shout?” a man asked.
Lily rose. She hopped over behind the curtain where Lawrence hid by the rear exit. Not a moment too soon. The cloth rustled as someone pushed it aside. Lawrence held the candle along the outside wall.
“Fire,” someone shouted. “And murder. Call the guard.”
Lily seized Lawrence’s wrist. She hauled him out the back door. Lawrence held on to the candle. To their immediate relief, they didn’t meet anyone. Lily dragged him back the way they came. Lawrence pressed the candle up against the tents as they passed.
“What are you doing?” Lily demanded.
“Causing a distraction,” Lawrence said. “And kicking the competition in the gonads.”
“Put it down before someone sees,” Lily ordered. She dragged Lawrence across the aisle into another cluster of tents. These had Infernal Innovations’ symbol: a geometric summoning circle on a regular circle, covered inside, outside, and around with decorative yet nonfunctional glyphs. Lawrence dragged the candle the breadth of the biggest tent, which must surely be home to a demon of great import. He dropped the candle in the alley, where it continued to burn.
Behind them, smoke billowed. Shouts of fires rose. Lily made a ninety-degree turn. She dragged Lawrence down a different path, as if to throw off pursuers. Lily’s grip tightened as she moved into a public street. Demons raced overhead with water-, saliva-, and piss-producing mutations. The demons cloistered around their specific tents but let everyone else’s burn. The fires continued to grow.
Lily left I.I.’s area and headed to the adjacent cluster of tents. A picket line surrounded them, but it wasn’t guarded. The Usurpers had little in the way of organization. Thug Swarm’s section was a ramshackle collection of whatever materials could be scavenged to make a dwelling. They didn’t have access to the nice things Malefice did. Thug Swarm used whatever was available. Nothing went to waste.
Lawrence walked past a poster someone had put on a plywood wall. A torch stood on either side. The plywood alone was stupidly expensive in this place, but Lawrence saw why. Thug Swarm’s symbol sat on the poster, a stylized stick-figure fiend in the bottom corner where a ‘copyright’ symbol would sit. The text of the poster said this:
OUR ENEMIES SURRENDER TO US
BECAUSE THEIR CEO QUIT
AFTER THEIR BOARD MEMBERS REFUSED TO FIGHT
SINCE THEY DON’T FEEL SAFE IN THE FIELD
BECAUSE OF AN EMBARASSING LOSS
WHEN OUR SUPPORT DRAGONS ATTACKED
WHILE THEIR MAIN AIR FLEET HESITATED
DUE TO BAD RECONAISSANCE
AFTER THEIR STALKER WAS KILLED
BECAUSE HE COULDN’T RUN AWAY
SINCE YOU HAD HIM BOUND.
EVERY DAMNED COUNTS.
Be part of something BIG, even if you’re small. Join Thug Swarm today!
“…Wow.” Lawrence stared at the poster. “Who made this?”
“I dunno,” Lily said. “Thug Swarm’s current CEO is a damned named Asher. His rise was meteoric. He died, he came to Hell, then he started a rebellion. A damned rebellion became a thorn in Blood Well’s side. Damned don’t need food or water or air or rest, so their logistics is nonexistent. Asher was a pain in Blood Well’s butt in his rise to power and now he’s a disaster to them since he’s in power. Thug Swarm was always more of an ideology, a collection of a thousand independent Companies standing up to the great Corporations. Under Asher’s Thugwaffe, well.”
They walked past another poster, this time featuring a honeybee wearing a WWII green US Army helmet and smoking a cigar, captioned:
BEE ALL YOU CAN BEE. Join Doomed Militia.
* No mandatory overtime
* No requirements
* No drama
* No wars
* No tax rate
* Ever wondered what you can do without war? Mining, production, hauling, bounty hunting, sorcery, scavenging, sewing, smithing, machining… and so much more.
* This universe is yours to conquer.
“Well they know how to appeal to people,” Lawrence said. He felt his face threaten to break from grinning. “For want of a nail, and such.”
“Thug Swarm is fast becoming the biggest Corporation. Not the strongest—yet. But the most popular. If you get results you get nice things.”
“What’s the catch?”
“The catch is,” Lily looked around. She lowered her voice and pulled Lawrence into another alleyway. She kept moving toward a cluster of black tents a little apart from the rest. She pulled Lawrence close and whispered right in his ear, “The leadership are jerks.”
“Okay?”
“Their leader behaves like a creepy cult leader when people try to leave. Lots of guilt, gets nasty, peer pressure, sleeping with young girls, that sort of thing. All dialed up to eleven because we’re in Maelstrom and not the mortal world. Then there’s all the stuff some of their leadership said about sexual orientation. They encourage mortals to damn themselves and then commit suicide to join their special Company, Doomed Militia. I compiled a long list of war crimes they’ve committed, mostly in the name of trolling anyone who isn’t them because why the fudge not? Recruitment is high, leadership is douche. Toxicity is mislabeled as passion, falsehood as insight, ignorance as strength. As an organization they’re earning all the hate the rest of the Storm gives.”
“And I’m guessing… they have lots of spies?”
“Like you would not believe,” Lily whispered. She wrapped an arm around him to keep him close. She lowered her voice further. “I heard they assassinated one of their top generals because of a rumor. Some of the stuff I’ve heard their scientists do is bizarre, and Lawrence, I have seen things you would not believe.”
“Okay. Wow. So we stick to the plan? Get in, get rich, get out?”
“Great plan.”
“Cool.”
“We’re here.” Lily stopped outside a plain black tent guarded by two damned. Both wore medieval-style Germanic plate mail, notable for having one giant pauldron and more overlapping plates on their shield arm, and a smaller pauldron on their weapon arm. “We have come to see the leaders of Black Licorice. This is the business of the King.”
“You know the watch words. You may pass,” one of the knights said.
Lily and Lawrence passed between them. The tent opened to a space no different from an office. A woman, a human mortal with many ranks in the Intelligence mutation sat behind the desk. She wore plain black pants, a dark shirt, and an open robe. No skull motifs anywhere, but instead a simple brooch of hardened, glossy black licorice stamped in the shape of a castle. Per her corruption, her brain swelled so much it broke through the top of her skull and swelled up like one of the aliens in Mars Attacks!
“Hello. Welcome to Black Licorice’s temporary headquarters,” she looked up from her clipboard. “My name is Candi with an ‘I.’ Yes that is my real name. Yes I see the irony. Yes my brain is bigger than my head. No you may not touch it.”
“My name is Lily, independent Opener.” Lily took a step away from Lawrence but kept her fingers interlaced with his. “I have an appointment with the hiring supervisor?”
“Lily.” Candi-with-an-I looked down at her clipboard. “Yes I see. You’re late.”
“We got lost,” Lily lied.
“No matter. The bosses already went down. It’s about your Faustian, right?”
“Yup.”
“I see.” Candi-with-an-I lifted her chin. She closed her eyes for a moment, visualizing something. “Cambion male, fifteen years old, beast heritage. High-level Faustian, completed a formal apprenticeship under an Auric Cat witch-beast named Diana. Powerful witch, by the way, the supervisors were impressed. No formal education or college. Under the circumstances, understandable."
“I graduated Nimue’s Tower,” Lawrence said.
“No you didn’t.” Candi-with-an-I opened her eyes. “The masters are connected to different Orders, and Miss Lily has a reputation in the underworld as a reliable info broker. You went there as an experienced student, equivalent to a fifth-year, but left after assassinating the local lord, a Ranked Up avian named Winter. Winter was no saint, but he wasn’t as bad as other lords or faustians, or faustian lords. Your action in Nimue’s Tower has made it vulnerable. Again.”
“Really?” Lawrence frowned. “Can’t the mages protect themselvvvesss…?” He realized how stupid he sounded even as the word left his mouth. Could Weatherly defeat anyone in a duel? Could the students protect the school? Could the masters?
“I will be brief—and by the way, my name is Candi. Not ‘Candi dash with dash an dash ‘I’ period. Just Candi.”
“You’re a telepath?” Lawrence blinked.
“Yes.” Candi leveled an even stare. “In summary, Nimue’s Tower was recovering. It was a beautiful thing in its golden age, it suffered a horrible schism, it came under attack by Infernal Innovations. It was raided and sacked by mortal barbarians. Some new independent mages rebuilt it and Blood Well protected it. Then Lord Winter declared himself its ruler and took steps to start a faustian Renaissance. Now, you've killed him.”
“He would have stolen my body and possessed me and left me to die.”
“I am not arguing the case for morality, boy.” Candi folded her arms. “I am stating a fact. Winter is dead. Blood Well is gone, conquered by Thug Swarm. The Usurpers see the need for a faustian training ground, but not an independent one. If Nimue’s Tower is ever discovered…”
Lawrence looked at the floor. He didn’t feel shame or regret. He wasn’t sure what to think.
“The tower is vulnerable. Again. It may never recover. You went there, and now the students and masters huddle in fear. Food still comes from the Gluttons, but the defenses are gone. They lack knowledge of how to make powerful wards. Then you went to Blood Well’s fortress; it is now conquered. Then you went to Dalheim. You were there less than a day before killing its ruler, Lord Gulosus, and the living fortress, the giant of giants. Now you have come here. Sensing a pattern?”
“Wherever I go,” Lawrence said. “Bad people die.”
“We’re all bad people here.” Candi leaned forward. “There are no heroes in Maelstrom. No happy endings. It isn’t ‘okay’ to have hope. It seems to me you have a hero complex. Drop it. We don’t need heroes at Black Licorice, just people who can bind demons and erect defenses, or summon something out of its fortress. Understand?”
Lawrence looked away. He felt Candi’s will emanating from her like pressure in the air. Lawrence shielded himself but made no other move. He noticed Lily looking at him, but he couldn’t interpret her expression. She squeezed his hand.
“Your application was approved,” Candi snapped. “Against my judgement. I’m not impressed. It’ll take more than the deaths of a few demons to prove yourself. Your new robes and badge are on the table. You also have a starter wand and a simple shield bracelet. The wand will let you cast non-ritual spells, if you can’t. Instructions for the bracelet are included. The equipment is yours to keep. If you lose or break it, or it gets stolen, you’ll need to pay for replacements.”
“Thanks.” Lawrence moved over to the desk. He pulled away from Lily, but she tightened her grip. He had to open his bag of holding with his thumb and scoop the rest of the stuff into it with his free hand. “Uh, what about a spellbook?”
“Lily said you already have one. A notebook with genuine paper.” Candi picked up a quill. “My spellbook is made from parchment. Trees with regular wood are not common in Maelstrom. Besides, you have the one you stole.”
Lawrence froze. His heart skipped a beat. He gulped.
“My lips are sealed, boy.” Candi stared him down. “But my eye is on you. Theft is not tolerated among any Faustians, mortal or otherwise. Ignorance of the Faustian Code is not a defense. Before you ask, I included a pamphlet with your wand. Obey it. Or die young. The supervisors’ instructions were for you to stay out of the way or stay out of trouble. Until they get back, you’re dismissed.”
“Come on, Lawrence.” Lily tugged him toward the door. Lawrence fished out the scrap of parchment Candi mentioned. He waited until they were outside before speaking. “So…”
“Not here,” Lily said. “Spies, remember? They could be anyone, anywhere. If it can wait, wait until we’re alone in my office.”
“Okay.” Lawrence raised the scrap. He alternated between reading and watching where they were going.
“I need to visit the enchanter first, then we’ll get to Lady Josephine’s. This way.” She led him into a stone tent guarded by two armor golems. Both suits of armor were cobalt and covered with runes. Both carried greatswords longer than Lawrence was tall and their helmets under one arm.
The tent was bigger on the inside, much bigger. The space stretched to a wide living area. A room for living quarters sat at the back, curtained off. Other rooms sat adjacent. The central area comprised the workshop and sales counter. The enchanter was a humanoid alien with purple skin and lots of extra fingers, opposable thumbs, and a tauric body. He also had corruption, evidenced by the same big brain mutation as Candi and a crown of bone spikes jutting from his skull. The crown made Lawrence instinctively want to kneel.
Lily made Lawrence sit in a molded plastic chair and promise not to go anywhere. Then she greeted the enchanter with a warm smile.
“Lily,” the alien beamed. “Always a pleasure.”
Lawrence tuned them out. The Faustian Code.
1. Any of mortal-blood who can summon and bind a demon is considered faustian, regardless of species, origin, nature, or beliefs.
2. You shall not attack the books or ritual tools of another faustian.
3. You shall not attack another faustian without first informing them the two of you are at war.
4. You must take at least one apprentice during your lifetime. For the duration of the apprentice’s training, he or she is under the protection of this code, even if he or she is unable to complete Rule #1.
5. If you bind a demon, you must keep it bound or otherwise place it in chains; do not allow a demon to go free with anger in its heart.
6. A faustian may call upon his fellows for aid. They are not bound to give aid, but must hear and consider his pleas.
The Faustian Code is designed to preserve sorcery and our positions, Candi wrote. Although we are recognized as honorary demons, most demons still regard us as arrogant enemies who deserve to be brought back down and crushed under their cloven hooves. Any missteps on our part will strip us of status and see us crushed.
Demons are wary of wizards causing chaos by shattering Contracts and binding Lords. Our Orders lack the resources of great Corporations, but political sway is our advantage. A single faustian may be assassinated. Kill one of an Order and his fellows will retaliate. Orders allow us to share lore and standing. Enrich the Order and you will be rewarded.
Lawrence copied the rules and reasons into his journal. He read the rules over and over, committing them to memory. When he was done, he went through the spellbook. He knew most of the rituals, but a few stood out. He found Caster's ritual. The demon could make a ward behave like a trap, then draw power from the pain it caused. The ritual had imperfections, flaws. Lawrence identified several ways to improve it. He added the ritual with his corrections to his journal. The other big ritual to add was Binding 5, which would allow him to steal mutations from demons. It would kill them, and it would steal a piece of their mind, subjecting him to possession attempts, but he accepted the cost. Binding 5 was better for stealing mutations than Cannibalism Empowerment. Fewer stat and Skill gains, but better for his digestion.
“Lawrence,” Lily placed a hand on his arm, startling him. “Did you read the Faustian Code?”
“Yup-puh.”
“Good. I read it once a long time ago. Main thing to remember about power in Maelstrom is it’s balanced on a point, not a plane. You’re already on the path of the faustian. Do it more and you’ll get strong.”
“I figured.” Lawrence looked up. Lily looked radiant. She wore a new coat: chocolate brown, made of leather, with pouches and pockets on the inside, a short cape, and a Kevlar lining. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders like a river of fire. She pinned it back with a jade brooch decorated with a blue lily, no doubt enchanted.
“The enchanter is ready for you.”
“You make it sound like a doctor visit.” Lawrence leaned away. “What did I do?”
“Let’s find out.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “Come on. We’ll find out together. Show him all the stuff you,” she cleared her throat. “Acquired.”
“Ohhh.” Lawrence stood. Lily tugged him over to the bar. The enchanter wore a jeweler’s eyeglass. Lawrence smiled, a little uncertain. “Hello.”
“Lily says you’ve got some things for me to identify.” The alien gestured at the table. “Put them here and we’ll get started.”
Lawrence took the pilfered objects out of his bag one by one. There were a lot of them. The enchanter examined each one at a time, making notes on a scratch pad. He said little, but hummed as he worked. Lawrence looked over his shoulder at the tent’s opening.
“The area is secure,” Lily told him. “No one gets in without permission. We caught him at a good time. Just be cool. Let him work.”
“So you two know each other.” Lawrence looked between them.
“Before becoming an [Opener], I was a [Fence]. We see many of the same customers.”
“Uh huh.” Lawrence watched the enchanter work. Lily readjusted her fingers interlacing with Lawrence’s. She put a hand on his arm.
“Jealous?”
“Me? No way.”
Lily smiled.
“All done,” the enchanter said an eternity later. He threw down his pen. “Wow. You have a lot. I’m just gonna go down the list, here. My name is Fortasse, by the way. It’s easy to remember. Fort. Ass.”
“Nice to meet you, Fortasse.”
“This creepy spellbook belonging to a faustian from Malefice.” Fortasse held up the black book. “I’m guessing he’s dead now. Not my business. It has a limited number of spells in it, nothing fancy. However, he does know every summoning, binding, and warding spell up to level five, which is the max. It’s bound in human skin with soulshaped damned as the paper. It isn’t sentient, thank heavens, but it does exude Corruption. Your COR skill increases by a couple points every minute you have it. Since it’s soulshaped, it’s resistant to damage, self-repairing. I wouldn’t hold onto it too long. Traces of the owner can still be felt.”
“Market value?” Lily prompted.
“I’d give you twenty-five gold for it.” Fortasse shrugged. “It’s a great price for a great item. I’d say… a Rare quality book.”
“I’ll think about it.” Lawrence laid his hand on it. He already had the rituals. Having it increased his corruption over time, which was never good. It was evidence he'd stolen it. He pushed it across the table. "I'll sell it. Twenty-five gold. INext?”
“Next is the faustian’s staff.” Fortasse held up a length of carved black wood topped with a polished skull. “The wood is holly, which is notable for being popular with mortal-world Druids. Holly wood wands can banish or bind demons and spirits. Thus, this staff provides a plus fifty-point bonus to both skills, which is a lot. As I’m certain you know, summoning is on a one-to-one ratio for Species Job Level to SOL units required.”
“So the staff is super-good.”
“Oh it’s better.” Fortasse gestured at the polished skull. “Genuine human, from a pure mortal: the staff works on damned too, humans and non-humans. One other thing, holly wood is white. Painting it black marred the spell focus. You won’t be able to use Program spells with it, just Faustian Sorcery. Something like a Fireball or Prestidigitation is off-limits. Market value… two hundred gold.”
“I could take a vacation,” Lily mused.
“These aren’t worth much.” Fortasse spilled the sack of gemstones. “Each one has a distinct magical effect. If you’re using them to augment arcane focuses, then they’re good. By themselves, they’re worth silver. Most mages use them for other things, or embed them in enchanting. Market value is about ten gold for the lot. I’d be willing to take one or two and embed them into your equipment in exchange for the rest. I made a list of their effects.”
Fortasse slid a paper across the table.
“None of them are diamonds,” Lawrence observed.
“Diamonds are like batteries. They can store energy or mana and you can release it later for free instead of paying the cost to a spell. This guy may have been into enchanting.”
“I’ll think about it.” Lawrence scooped them back into the sack.
“What are you going to do with them?” Lily asked.
“As with the rest of the stuff, if I can use it I will. If not, I might keep one or two as a bauble. We’ll see if anyone we know wants one, and then donate the rest to our Company. Anything we use to empower the group builds favor, right?”
“Maybe.” Lily looked unconvinced.
“A sack of silver and bronze coins.” Fortasse pushed it across the counter. “Currency. Moving on.”
“The short black stick tapering to a point?” Lawrence held it up.
“Yeah, that’s a wand. Ebony wood, unpainted. Ebony is a hardwood. It’s extremely strong, durable, resistant to termites and insects, and stable. Because of its density it is hard to work with, especially with hand tools. Ebony wood is great for defense, protection spells. In this case, wards, but you could also use it to cast general barrier spells, if you know any. It gives a plus-thirty bonus. Wards are also layered, therefore if every layer is drawn with the wand, the bonus stacks.”
“Keeping that.” Lawrence tucked it into a pocket. “Defense against demons is paramount. The staff, not so much.”
“The staff has a skull on the end,” Lily said. “Everyone knows about Malefice’s skull theme, and they just got robbed. We’ll donate the staff or sell it. But yeah, keep the wand. We can use it.”
“The buckler is just a regular buckler,” Fortasse held his magnifying glass over it. “But it has a one percent chance negating spell damage. Novice-level enchantment. I recommend letting me strip it for reagents and paying you for them.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Lily said.
“No.” Lawrence shook his head. “It goes in our donate pile. Someone will use it, even if they ignore the enchantment.”
“You don’t even want to know how much it’s worth?” Fortasse raised his eyebrows.
“Nope. Next item. The robes, right?”
“Yes. Both skull sets increase your WIS by ten points. The mask hides your face and provides a flat 5-point boost to KNW. The chalice is a focus for blood-based spells. Valuable, but requires those rare and deadly blood spells to work.”
Next were assorted rings with basic stat increases, a few bottles of Agony, Lily claimed one for herself, nonfiction books on Maelstrom history, politics, geography, the various Heresies, Mysteries, and open secrets, which was all good information but not useful, and finally, several unusual weapons. Almost all were enchanted, with usefulness and power on a spectrum.
“I want the Dancing Dagger,” Lily said.
“It has an Animus Blade enchantment.” Fortasse handed over the sheathed, normal-looking knife. “Say the command word, and it’ll defend you. It’s controlled by your will. Some people take the Animator Job and animate their clothes, or entire armories of weapons.”
“Wonderful.” Lily strapped the dagger to her hip.
“There are a lot of useful items here,” Lawrence observed.
“I see you eyeing the Lionfish Fan.” Fortasse picked up a short, nine-tailed whip. Each ‘tail’ was a pale, fleshy tendril ending in a blunt tip, with bands of red encircling the length. “It’s a short whip. Applies lionfish venom on-hit. If you flex it such it’ll stiffen into an iron fan, which you can use to slash enemies.”
“I’ve always liked the versatility of whips,” Lawrence said. “But I don’t have the training required. School taught us sabers and guns, not exotic stuff. I want the Jade Claw.”
“This thing?” Fortasse held up a brass knuckle made of gold. An emerald Chinese Lung dragon encircled the band. Three hooked blades protruded from the knuckle part. Fortasse passed it to Lawrence, who put it on his right hand.
Lawrence clenched his fist. A haptic buzz covered his hand and wrist as a shimmering green illusion covered his hand. It had the shape of a tiger paw covered with fish scales, but the claws extending from the illusion were real. The illusion flashed once and then faded, leaving behind a smell like the air after a rainstorm.
“It generates three claws you can use to rend your enemies. A basic weapon, primal,” Fortasse explained. “The illusion isn’t armor, it won’t protect you, but the claws are real. In Claw Mode, it increases your Skill by 3. In both modes, it increases your Power by 1, provides plus one Skill Level to Rending Claws, plus two Skill Levels to Natural Weapons: Claws, and provides a two-percent chance to inflict Bleed on-hit. One problem: this item is damaged. It needs to be repaired.”
“Let me guess,” Lawrence said. “The repair stuff is in the dungeon.”
“Not exactly. I need to disenchant another claw-based item for the reagents. Since this is the only one I’ve got, you’re stuck until I find another, or you find the other half. Claw weapons are often made in pairs. If you can find the other half of this one, uniting them may repair both.”
“What does it do when it’s damaged?”
“It looks pretty and the steel claws are sharp, but no oversized, illusory claws, no Skill boosts, and so on. You get the stat boosts from equipping an enchanted item, but not the special, glittery stuff.”
“Pick a different thing, Lawrence,” Lily ordered.
“I'll take it.” Lawrence slipped the claw into his pocket. “And several cases of bullets. The rest of the stuff we can donate.”
“It would be better to sell it,” Lily said.
“We don’t need the money,” Lawrence said. “Our party can take what they want, then Black Licorice can have the rest. I have what I want.”
“Which is?”
“The spellbook—for now—the wand, the money, the mask, the books, and the claw.” Lawrence stuffed everything into his bag of holding.
“I don’t have any bullets for sale. Go see the armorer.” Fortasse pocketed the change. “Good doing business with you. Please. Come back any time. Goodbye Lily,” he blew her a kiss.
“Goodbye Fort.” Lily leaned forward, letting him get an eyeful. Lawrence realized she’d been leaning forward this whole time, only now she looked close to jumping out of her shirt. She leaned away and pulled Lawrence out the door.
“Old boyfriend?” Lawrence asked after they began walking.
“Yes,” was Lily’s curt reply.
Lawrence let the subject drop. Josephine was next, and Lawrence had no idea what to do.