I actually felt like I had been making progress for a change. After the previous few days it felt like an unexpected bonus. At last the two cases were meshing together. Or at least I believed so. The worms had hired the Hive to capture the box. They had failed to get it but had taken Hanes instead. Then they had turned to me to recover the box. Now they planned to use Hanes to lure out Miss White so that they could unlock the power of the otherworldly jewellery.

I hoped that the Hive still had Hanes. If I could recover him before the worms’ plan came to fruition then it would hopefully scupper it, stop it dead in its tracks. Of course, it wouldn't exactly end the threat and more likely than not would just make a bigger target of Hanes, Miss White and myself. The worms didn't strike me as the type to take a set back with any type of grace.

First things first though, I had to actually rescue him. Only then could I worry about the retribution of enraged creatures out for blood.

I didn't actually have much to check up on prior to confronting the Hive as I had told Sharky. To be honest I felt in no right condition to tackle them until after I had rested up. After the amount of time that Hanes had already been away, one more day wouldn't make that much of a difference. At least that was how I tried to rationalise it.

The truth was I felt too bone weary to be doing anything. It wouldn't help Hanes at all if I stumbled in half off my feet asleep, bleary eyed, worn out and unable to think straight.

No, sleep had to come first and then I would try and get him back. With Sharky's help.

His offer of assistance had come as a surprise to me at some level. I guess that he didn't like being made a fool of any more than I did, and that he felt some form of payback was in order. Unless I was totally misjudging his character that was. It wouldn't have been the first time, as my encounter with the Kochaks had shown. He looked and acted like a street thug, and it was thus I had seen him as at first.

Still, having him at my back rather than behind it would prove useful when confronting the Hive.

I did not relish that prospect, not one little bit. The Hive were a nasty bunch. Not when taken individually, mind, except that you never ran into them individually. Always they worked in swarms, and like any swarm, they had an instinctive understanding of where each other was, and what they were doing. The term hive mind gets thrown about a lot. In this case almost appropriately. They were individuals still, just ones with an instinctive sixth sense about each other. And that was what made them dangerous. They worked together in perfect synchronicity, a team with few weaknesses.

On that cheery thought, I retired for the night, managing, despite that, the first decent sleep I'd had for a while.

With the following morning, I headed for my office, to prepare for the encounter with the Hive. I didn't want an incident, not with them. It could be tricky to arrange, but it could be done. Just as long as my companions kept their nerve and their senses. At the heart of the nest was of course the Mother, one who I would rather negotiate with than have to confront. In case things did go sour, there were options available to me if I planned for the worst case scenario.

Approaching the door to my office, I noticed that it was slightly ajar. My sense of trouble reared at the sight of it. I knew that I had locked it up last time I had been in it and no one else should have had access to it. Yes, I had many things on my mind and many distractions, but I would not have made so fundamental a mistake, surely.

With utmost caution I approached the door, drawing my revolver from my coat and readying it. Using it to crack open the door a touch more, I took a surreptitious look inside.

Mister White sat at my desk, in my chair. He had his polished shoes propped up on the desk. In his mouth he had a cigar, the smoke from it curling up around his head to the ceiling as he exhaled.

"Do come in, Mister Stone," he said, removing the cigar from his mouth.

"You've made yourself at home," I told him as I stepped into the office. Stowing my revolver, I made my way across to the desk.

"Merely making myself comfortable while waiting for you." He swung his feet down from the desk and sat up straight.

"And to what do I owe this unexpected visit?" I asked. I folded my arms across my chest as I faced Mister White across the desk.

"We need to talk," he stated. He set the cigar down in an ashtray and placed his hands on the edge of the desk, leaning forward. "It would seem that, contrary to my warnings, you have been digging away in places that you really should not have been, uncovering that which should have been left well alone."

"The dead you mean?" I really didn't have time for this. So close to finding Hanes, or at least where he was being held, and Mister White had to make an appearance? I should have expected it. Given previous interactions with him, I had to take this carefully if I wanted to get out in once piece. That meant a little bit of diplomacy. Not exactly my strong suit. "It is the nature of the business, I am afraid," I told him. "The truth comes out."

He kept a steady gaze on me for a moment before a sigh escaped from him. "It can't be helped, I suppose."

"If it makes you feel any better, I did not set out to do so, and it has proved valuable in my search. I am near to finding Mister Hanes. If I am lucky, it may even be today."

"That is for the well, but there remains the question of what to do with you. You know our secrets."

"Not all of them."

A wry smile came from Mister White, fleeting its way across his pale, stretched face. "No, which is for the good. We have many secrets, some of which it really would not do for any to discover."

"Those that I know are safe with me," I promised him. I had to hope that he believed me. If not, well, that didn't bare contemplating.

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Mister White tilted his head to one side as he studied me with his dead eyes. It was a very appraising look, and one that made me feel a little unsettled. It made me feel like a bug beneath a magnifying glass, not knowing my fate. "I believe you, but will others?" He shrugged. "That is the question."

"Too many questions, not enough answers."

A faint, dry laugh came from Mister White. "Yes, indeed. Still, we will let it rest for the moment."

I relaxed. A touch. It seemed I had been granted a reprieve for the moment. Unless I found Hanes, it would only be a reprieve though. "I am not crazy enough to cross the Westlers," I assured him.

"There are those that are," Mister White said. He leaned back in my chair once more, picking up the cigar as he did so. "But you know who we are, and who, or what, Miss Westler is." He tapped ashes into the ashtray from the cigar and went on, an almost wistful tone to his voice. "She was the Old Man's only daughter, the jewel of his eye. He understood, though did not necessarily approve, of her decision to try and make a life of her own, independent from the family, an opinion he felt was validated upon her murder. He took that hard, as you may well imagine. The loss of a child is never easy. When he found out, well, we upturned Spire looking for the one responsible. I was there when he was found, brought in and questioned." His eyes narrowed at the memory, pale flesh pulling taut across his face. "All that we found out was that he was after her jewellery box. He never revealed why or where it ended up."

"It appears that it has been moving around ever since, causing trouble wherever it goes."

"It would seem so. That didn't matter to the Old Man. Only his daughter did. Her returned as one of the Departed, well, that did not make it any easier for him. It just reminded him of what had happened. It was felt that in time he would recover. He never did, though time did lessen the pain to a degree. He turned his attentions solely to seeing if he could find a way to cure her."

"Is that even possible?"

"I doubt it. There are stories, always stories, but never the evidence or proof. The Old Man chased them all down though, and spent a fortune in doing so, trying to verify them. His distractions led to a schism within the family, one that ripped us apart. Those that stayed loyal felt in time he would get over it. The others, well, they were not willing to wait that long."

"I had heard details of the schism, but never a reason for it."

Mister White's lips pursed tight. "It would not be good for business if people did know, really. Even so, it was a bad look and many of our competitors took advantage of the schism, muscling in on our business and districts. If they had known the truth of it, they could only have made it worse."

"Miss White seemed to think it was related to the missing jewellery box, that the curse and the blessing upon it had in some way caused the schism to occur."

Mister White shook his head. "A curse? Hardly. Such matters are little more than gossip and tales, an amusing family folklore without merit to it. No, this was of a more mundane origin, of an old man and his pain. In truth, I fear that she in part blames herself for all that befell the family. If she had not sought a life of her own, she would not have been murdered and none of this would have happened."

"I rather got the feeling that Miss White - Miss Westler - is still rather independent in her ways, despite all that has happened."

"Oh, she is. I still watch over her for the good of the family, and from time to time she does get some assistance, such as on the day that she visited you, but she tries to make her own way in the world." Mister White's eyes took on a distant look before he shook his head to clear it.

"Does Mister Hanes know of what she is?"

"One of the Departed?" Mister White looked up at me, all trace of his previous expression gone. Once more the penetrating gaze stared through me. "Yes. Does that surprise you?"

"I must admit that I do find it a little difficult to understand."

"He is a good man, Nathan Hanes. He has the Old Man's blessing, even if he has never met him. I do not know if he is even aware of Miss Westler's background. But the fact that she is a Departed? No, that has not bothered him in the slightest."

A better man than me, that was for certain. I am not sure I could have done what he had. "Even if it means no children and that she will not age as he will?"

"I can not speak for them, but I am certain that they can figure it out on their own. It is of no concern to anyone but them."

"You have a sentimental streak, Mister White."

He laughed at that. "Best not to let anyone know about that. Besides, it is only by that streak you remain here today."

"That is comforting to know," I replied drily.

"I am not a cruel man, Mister Stone. I do what needs to be done but I do not take any pleasure in it." He rose up from my seat, cigar in hand. "Results are all that matter to me. Find Mister Hanes and reunite her with Miss Westler. If you manage that, all will be well. Fail, well, just don't."

"One question before you leave. Why Mister White?"

"Why?" Another long penetrating stare followed.

"Yes. I would guess that it is not your name, but why choose the same one as Miss White?"

He tilted his head to one side for a moment and then smiled. "I will let you figure that one out for yourself, Mister Stone." He touched a hand to the brim of his hat. "Good day to you, Mister Stone. I can find my own way out."

With that, he walked out of my office.

I let a long breath out upon his departure, feeling some of the tension I felt leave me. Some, but not all. I had been backed into a corner with few escape options available to me. On one had the worms and the Hive, and on the other the Westlers and Mister White. It was less than an ideal place to be stuck in. To be honest, I almost preferred the Hive. Mister White was polite, calm and urbane and yet that only made the implied threat and danger all that much more ominous. He was not a man to cross or get on the bad side of, as I did not doubt that for a moment he would hesitate in his duty or to carry through on his words.

His comments on the name he had chosen intrigued me though. He hadn't given me an answer, simply telling me to work it out myself. Which implied he felt I could do so. If he had adopted it after she had, it would indicate a familial relationship. Family, that was the key

He was Old Man Westler.

The thought struck me like a thunderbolt from out of the mists. The whole time the head of the family had been speaking to me, watching over his daughter, and I had never realised it. A man that you did not cross. A man that brooked no mistakes, if rumours could be believed. And yet he had given me a chance.

Sentimentality indeed.

His appearance as one of the Departed, if I was correct in my summation as to who he actually was, now that was a puzzler indeed. Not even a whisper of a rumour had come to me indicating that he was one, but then Old Man Westler was known to be a secretive type. Had he become one to understand his daughter's affliction, in an effort to find a cure for it, or was it merely a disguise, some form of masking, except in reverse to that of his daughter's.

Or I could have been overthinking it. It wouldn't have been the first time, yet I often found that my first instinct was the correct one.

I fished out a bottle from my desk, along with a glass, and poured myself a healthy shot. The day may have only just begun but after a shock like the one I had been through, I felt the need for a stiff drink to settle my nerves down. I considered a second one after draining the glass, but rejected the idea. I would need all my wits about me to deal with the Hive. Setting the bottle aside, I delved into the desk and the filing cabinet, removing a number of items that I felt might come in use when dealing with the Hive, if worst came to worst.

With the done, my next stop was to be downtown, to collect Sharky and his crew, before heading on down to the Hive's nest. Now that was a course of action I would never have once considered possible. It just went to show the craziness that I had been caught up in.