Dextros found the compass in a wicker crate of trinkets labeled ‘Witchcraft’. He flicked open the silver plated cover which protected its glass face. He set it delicately on the windowsill and watched its needle flutter about like a flag in the wind. Dextros tried and failed to make sense of its erratic fidgeting. As far as he knew, this was normal for an oracular compass. It bore no visible damage, so he stowed it in his coat. Part one of his mission was complete.

Dextros dared not exit Sackary’s mansion the way he entered. The brigands downstairs had just lit an enormous bonfire in the living room hearth, and the light from its flume would project his silhouette on the street for all to see. Out of respect for Gaius’ authority, no one walked the second and third floors of Sackary’s manor alone. He would have to exit via the window. Dextros could think of no way to guarantee that an unlikely passerby would not see him clambering from the window. It was late at night, however, and the window faced Acorn’s north fields. It was an unavoidable gamble.

Dextros lifted the window’s bottom pane with both hands wrapped in benlinens, just as Mr. Peregrine had instructed him. He let it go just above the scuff mark that described its natural resting height. It made a tinny clicking noise as it settled into its open position. Dextros froze. The men downstairs continued their merry game. He slithered from the window, and set his feet lightly on the second story veranda. The North field was empty. So was market street. Dextros descended to the ground. He had done well, and all that was left to do was walk away. Escape would have been easy had Gaius not been so bored on this night.

“Hello thief.” Gaius addressed Dextros from the shadows of the manor’s north porch.

Dextros whirled to face him. Fear flooded his body and mind. He wet himself, and the flames of desperation burst to life in his chest. There would be no talking himself out of this. Gaius was too intelligent a man to fool. There would be no fighting, either. Dextros stood no chance, even if both of Gaius’ hands were tied. There would be no running either, for Gaius could outrun even the swiftest of men. There was only one way to go - back into Sackary’s manor.

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Dextros darted to the manor’s west porch. Gaius had not bothered to run after him, so he composed himself as he opened the front door. Two men crouched at the far end of the living room, shuttling Sackary’s personal collection of historical texts into a roaring hearthfire. They flinched as the door opened, peering over their shoulders in hopes of seeing anyone other than the man under whom they served. Dextros saluted them, and they returned to their arson.

Dextros locked the door behind him. There was nowhere to go, and he knew that he was a dead man. There was only one thing he could hope for now; one part of his mission that could be completed after his execution. Gaius did not know what he had stolen, so he could pass the compass off to Mr. Peregrine. He had only to reach the jail alive. Dextros turned back to the door whose lock he had just turned. He peaked through a blood flecked window at the west porch. It was empty, meaning Gaius had entered the house through the north door. Maybe. Dextros knew little of the Alpha genus, but he did know they liked to hunt. If he tried to escape via the west door, and Gaius were hiding beneath the west porch….

“Oy! Dex!” One of the arsonists called from the hearth. Dextros ignored him. “Dex! What ye doin mate?” Somewhere nearby, Gaius was maneuvering. Valuable time was wasting. The arsonist’s words were illuminating his location and masking any noise Gaius might be making. There was no choice but to make a move.

Dextros threw open the west door and leapt onto the porch. Gaius was nowhere to be seen. He set off for the Boredone Barroom at a full sprint. The sharpshooter Ollie Oxford lounged in the rocking recliner on the Barroom’s front porch. Contrary to popular opinion, Ollie had a good heart, and Dextros was tempted to plead for his help. He decided against it.