Though the ghost’s words might have been uncharacteristically wise, given Edmund Adianoeta’s penchant for having skewed views, Nikola found sleep eluded him. Perhaps it was the place—despite his newfound ease with moving in the darkness, the empty house was objectively unwelcoming.

Under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed being within such an old building, really—far from vintage, it had outright remained abandoned for much time, and it was remarkably well-preserved.

Nikola considered exploring, instead of resuming the aimless endeavor of trying to fall asleep. The ghost had gone to set some of his plans in motion, or so he’d claimed—Nikola had the house to himself.

For now, at least.

He stood slowly, afraid bits of the old chaise’s fabric would cling to his clothes. They’d long since dried, but a thin film of discomfort lingered on his skin beneath them. He couldn’t help the admittedly spoiled desire that rose in him, that he might have been afforded a nice warm bath during these hours.

The two-story house was caked in dust, most of the furniture covered in thin white sheets. Some of it, however, had been cleared out before his arrival—whether it was Edmund’s doing, he did not know.

Washed-out wallpaper adorned each wall, different depending on their direction. One of the patterns, that of flowers and thorns next to a cornucopia of fruit, reminded him of some of the accents in the kitchen of the townhouse he rented. He stayed in that room, on the second floor, staring at it for an indeterminate amount of time.

A manner of nostalgia flowed through him.

Until this day, his life had been ordinary—mundane, and not in a good way. Nikola felt he’d been little but a gear in the great machine that was society, working to live and living to work. A part of him—a shameful part—found he had been enjoying this turn of events.

Not the events themselves, obviously, but the fact that they had transpired at all. He’d gotten a break from the monotony of his life in the worst possible way and found he was not particularly inclined to wish for it to return to normal.

That might be a problem. Nikola shook his head at the thought, the sentence oddly pointed as it formed in his head. There’s no need to return to normal, is there?

Again, he shook his head. He truly did need rest, but he was resigned to the fact that he would go without it already. It wasn’t too different from when he needed to spend the night working on a particularly difficult project, or finishing the work assigned to him in lieu of the worktime he was actually being paid for.

He’d been overjoyed when The Adianoeta Gazette, with all its prestige, had actually taken him in. It wasn’t a lack of skill that had held him back for most of his life, but his mother’s identity. She was not the most beloved of people, being an activist of some renown. Even in a relatively evolved place such as their hometown, as she would have phrased it, there were always those who disliked her, and, by extension, her so-called fatherless children.

Nikola was young, still, and not yet thirty. He’d never found himself in any rush to do anything about his situation, even after his mother and brother had moved away. Writing for the paper was enough—on the rare occasion he actually got to work on his own column, in any case.

Do you think you’re worthless, just because you’ve yet to achieve anything? Consider you’ve never been in a position to do so. Until now.

That was the matter, was it not? Nikola knew not why he’d been feeling so pensive as of late. This night alone, he’d found himself pondering things he doubted he would have ever considered otherwise. He did not feel worthless so much as, when faced with a break in the patterns of his life, he suddenly found himself struggling to decide what his next steps should be.

Precisely because he could decide. A long since buried, rebellious part of him wondered if he could do without assisting the ghost. Fixing their fountain was not something he even wanted to do, but complacency kept him from speaking out, even now.

Go in. Somehow rescue Benjamin. Cooperate with Edmund’s plan. That was all.

So why did he still feel as though he should do anything but?

His greatest concern lay on how he was to avoid the Adianoetas if he chose to flee. Their patriarch’s ghost had at least promised a measure of protection, if he cooperated. The more he thought of it, the more he understood he could attribute certain traits of theirs to their state as people changed by the occult. Their seeming agelessness and ability to command mortals with a word were likely only the start of it.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

They weren’t something he could see himself fighting against. Nikola was the type of young man that could lose a fight against his own shadow.

Do you really think they’d just let you go? Doubts rose through him anew. You’d be naught but a loose end alone.

Nikola grit his teeth. His skull was beginning to pound, discomfort worsening.

You should leave.

He gasped—for the first time, he had no doubts about just how foreign the thought had felt. Thinking back to Edmund’s question, as to whether anything had spoken to him. Stupidly, he asked: “Is anybody there?”

Obviously.

His heartbeat picked up, hammering in his ears within the second. “You are a… a piece of a demon. He did not lie, did he?”

You think we can be broken into pieces? The distinct sound of a hiss tore through his head, making Nikola wince. A fool is what Adianoeta is. Words do not suffice to name his transgressions.

His mind was reeling—what was he to do? Nothing in this world could have prepared him to know how to act in such a situation. What was he even supposed to say?

Nothing in particular, unless you like the sound of your own voice. What you should be doing, however, is leaving—you had the right idea earlier.

“Why should I listen to… you?” Nikola addressed it as he might a person, for lack of knowledge as to how else he should, and to avoid disrespect in that sense. He was not particularly eager to listen to the thing behind the Adianoeta’s actions, even if Edmund’s actions had been his own.

Because their actions are indeed their own. Did the man himself not tell you of our bargain? The end of which, I might add, he never fulfilled? Think what you will of us, the demon hissed. But I did not demand that blood be spilled for my sake. My appetites are sated by much finer things.

“Yet you are still a demon.”

Please. Everything that is alive requires sustenance to continue to be so. We are not that much unalike, and if nothing else, I would argue our diets are more sustainable than yours, even if all starvation does to us is cause us pain.

“Oh, yes,” Nikola—more than a bit giddy—let a snort out. “The sustainable diet of human sacrifice and the torment of souls.”

Again, it is not something I need, but that which they chose to provide against my wishes. And I would very much prefer for that not to be the case again. There is a reason why I waited for the warden to be gone before I voiced my needs. Flee, boy, for both our sakes.

Somehow, Nikola got an impression of… earnestness. From a demon’s words, of all things. He got the impression that it was genuine in its desire to be as far from Edmund as possible. He supposed he couldn’t blame it—being trapped for centuries would likely do that to any being.

“Did he not say you were but a piece of the demon that fled?”

Does a lock of hair cease to be yours because you cut it off? No. Regardless of what happens, it continues to be what it was. With us, that is the case for the whole of us. I am free, wandering the void as immaterial demons do when none summon them, and I am here, still bound to this world.

“What do you want, then?” Nikola struggled to pinpoint the thing’s motives. “For this piece of you to be freed as well?”

Not in the slightest. I haven’t a realm—no, I would very much rather bring the rest of me over.

“I’m not helping you with that.”

Yet you would help the warden?

Was it speaking of Edmund? Nikola felt the assent within, wordless yet clear. “I do not desire to aid Edmund Adianoeta, but I have little choice. And something tells me he wasn’t lying when he claimed remaining a vessel would warp me.”

I had never heard of a living thing being used as a vessel, true. But I doubt it would be terrible, and few things are beyond my power, if you would like recompense for any consequences.

Nikola blinked, his shock growing. “I must be misinterpreting this—you would offer a favor for it?”

Recompense, not a favor, the demon insisted. I believe—

The mental voice stopped abruptly, and Nikola experience a full-body shiver. Quiet.

He heard footsteps coming from the first floor, then, despite the ghost being an incorporeal thing. Yet it was Edmund’s voice that he heard. “The stage is set! I hope you’ve rested. We need to move, now!”

Nikola did as the demon said, remaining still. The footsteps spread out, and once again, the ghost shouted. “Where did you choose to sleep for the night? I cannot seem to find you, and we’ve little time!”

Get inside that closet.

Turning, Nikola examined the room he was in. He could indeed make out a wardrobe near the window, wooden and shrouded in cobwebs. Get in! Now!

Against his better wishes, he did as ordered. Not only did such a noise not belong to a ghost, but they were certainly the footsteps of more than one person. Taking the advice of a demon was even more questionable a decision than listening to the ghost had been—yet unbelievably, Nikola found he was more inclined to believe it than he had Edmund.

He set the wardrobe’s door shut as quietly as he could manage, barely fitting inside among old, dusty dresses, and his entire world became a sea of pitch black.