INSIDIIS MURES

DELPHIE

Delphie Murinae was a murid, a mouse kemo. They were not exactly a very organized culture, but they did have one warlord: Delphie's sister.

Like Delphie, she still looked baseline, with long brown hair tied up in an elegant bun. She was taller than Delphie by a good foot, which put her a little above average, with the same chocolate-colored eyes as Delphie. But unlike Delphie, she always had an unflinchingly serious look on her face, as though she were doing the most important thing in the world.

She was dressed in furs and leathers—mouse furs, which were a lot harder to stitch together nicely than you'd think. Some people didn't even realize it was clothing at first, she wore so much of it. But that wasn't what marked her as the Alpha of the Murids.

Sitting lazily in her lap was a lean and dangerous rat, six feet long with a tail of equal length. He was currently curled up in a ball, asleep, but Delphie knew he would be awake in seconds if his mistress was in danger. Unlike his wild brethren, his fur was clean and groomed, but he was not pampered. He had to catch everything he ate, he was just well-trained enough not to overeat like most of his kind. Combined with his buffs, the result was a creature with whip-like muscles and unbreakable teeth that could kill a baseline bear without any difficulty.

Like Delphie, her sister had internal pheromone buffs that let her control rats and lesser rodents. Unlike Delphie, she used hers to recruit and train an army of animal companions.

The Queen-Mother of Fevered Day smiled at them from where she stood before Delphie's sister's chair. “So why have you called me here, Plague?”

Delphie's sister had a real name, which Delphie thought was quite beautiful, but she disagreed. She insisted on being called the Lady of the Plague, referencing her power base—dangerous, disease-carrying rodents. She didn't seem to notice how pretentious it sounded.

She answered the fey instantly. “We need to get in touch with the Composer.”

She hadn't gotten to be warlord by being polite and gentile.

To her credit, the fey just raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Interesting. May I ask why?”

“You should know. Weren't the fey planning to join him?”

Fevered Day grinned. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Either way, I doubt you want to become an amhránnaí or caoin. No, you want to become like the Paladins. A cainteoir.”

Delphie's sister stroked her rat behind the ears. “If that's what you want to call it.”

“Well, unfortunately, we have had very little luck finding the Cumadóir. Whenever we think we might be zeroing in, it moves.” Fevered Day shrugged her naked shoulders. “I am sorry. We had a number of questions we wished to ask it as well.”

“I really thought you would already know. My spies tell me the burners were looking for Killing Sparrow.”

“They didn't find her.” The fey did not elaborate.

Delphie's sister closed her eyes. “Please don't be difficult. I don't see a reason why we cannot work together towards a common goal here. We both want to meet the Composer. We can do that, if we share information.”

“I remember what happened last time we worked together,” Fevered Day said with a giggle. “I put you in a toy box, stuffed you with enough buffs to become a warlord.” Her gaze, no longer friendly and happy, turned to Delphie. “And in exchange, your sister took enough fertility drugs to let a corpse give birth.” She grinned cruelly. “Which reminds me... how are those triplets of yours doing, dearest?”

Delphie bristled. “You know I'm staying out of their lives.”

Fevered Day shrugged. “Understandable. Though you should know, little Melanie recently decided she wanted to be an Alpha when she grows up.” The grin came back, and her eyes flicked to Delphie's sister. “Interesting, don't you think?”

Delphie stalked forward, but her sister grabbed her arm before she could do anything too rash. It didn't stop her from talking, though. “You stay away from them. If I hear you've so much as touched them—”

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Fevered Day rolled her eyes and waved her hand, dismissing Delphie's threats as empty air. “You don't even know where they are. What are you going to do? Ask MC to search for every three-year-old in the city?”

“She can narrow it down by birthdate, and the fact that they're triplets will make it easier too.”

The cruel grin returned. “Who said I put them in the system under their birthdates? Or kept them together, for that matter?”

Delphie ground her teeth together. “You crazy—”

“Stop,” her sister said, and she did. “You gave them up. Deal with it.”

Chastised, Delphie nodded. Her situation was hardly normal, but she had made her choices. And teenage parents who put their babies in orphanages were common enough that she didn't really have a right to complain in normal company.

However, when one of the people she was talking to was her sister, who had children nearly as old as Delphie, complaining was just plain stupid. She was a better mother than Delphie could ever hope to pretend to be.

Fevered Day's gaze turned to Delphie's sister. “That reminds me. How are your little ones? Your son is... eight?”

“Ten,” she corrected. “Gwenyth is eight.”

Fevered Day nodded. “Right, right. Knew one of them was eight.”

Delphie's sister had never been one for small talk, and this was quickly straying into forbidden topics. “Is there a point to this, Crone? If you can't help us find the Composer, I think this meeting is over.”

Fevered Day shook her head, her long black hair becoming mussed. “So impatient... tell me, Dame Plague, why exactly do you want to find the creature who is stalking your streets?”

“I told you. We want powers.”

Fevered Day scoffed. “From an unknown, insane zombie lord? Please. You're far too careful to trust your fate to anything you don't understand.” She leaned forward. “So why don't you tell me what you're really after.”

Delphie's sister didn't speak for a few moments.

“The toy maker,” she said finally, “was the most important advancement the human race has ever made. Clarke and Butler leveraged it into essentially owning this city.” She narrowed her eyes. “And now we have superpowers running around.”

Fevered Day grinned. “You want to be the Cumadóir.”

Delphie blinked at that. It was beyond what she had expected. Her sister had always been ambitious, but this was a bit of a leap, even for her.

“Whoever the Composer is, he doesn't know what he's doing. In his position, I would use and dole out these powers far more responsibly.”

“Somehow I doubt that, sweetness. I also doubt you'd have a chance against it. It has eluded Necessarius for some time now, which speaks volumes. And I'm sure you've heard the rumors.”

Delphie's sister rolled her eyes. “Yes, that he's an immortal body-jumper from an ancient civilization that destroyed itself in its own hubris. I heard.” She waved her hand airily. “But if he was immortal, he wouldn't be bothering with the whole show—he'd be fighting on the front lines.”

“And that last part is clearly a ripoff of the Atlantis myth,” Delphie said.

Delphie's sister nodded. “That too. The rumor mill is spinning his reputation out of control, but that's nothing new. I'm sure you remember the rumors from right after Orcus died.”

Fevered Day chuckled. “Oh, yes, those were entertaining. I especially liked the ones about him returning as an undead prince bent on vengeance.” She grinned. “There were some people who really got into it, too. Read anything under the name 'Tenebrous' and you'll see what I mean. They're very entertaining.”

“Back on topic,” Delphie's sister growled—literally. “Can you help us or not?”

Fevered Day grinned. “Not. And honestly, I wouldn't even if I could. You have little to offer me.” She rose to go.

“Wait.” Delphie's sister looked pained, but she spoke without hesitation. “If you help us, I'll give you Heather's body.”

Delphie felt like her heart had stopped in her chest. She couldn't actually be thinking...

Fevered Day's grin seemed to split her face in half. “You'll actually give me your daughter's body? No strings attached?”

“Heather's body,” she insisted. She had another daughter to worry about, and with the fey you had to be specific about that kind of thing. “Payment upon delivery of the information. Deal?”

Fevered Day paused, thinking, then shook her head. “No. That could be months. She's been dead for days already. Payment now or no deal.”

Delphie's sister ground her teeth. “Fine. She's stored in the Warren of the Unforgotten. I'll let the gravekeeper know you're coming.” She reached for her phone in her pants pocket, but her rat squealed slightly in protest.

“No need to hurry,” Fevered Day said as she rose. “I don't quite have time right now anyway. Just make sure you call before the end of the day.” She brushed her hair carefully. “One of my other homunculi is escorting a package, and I need to keep my attention on that.” She winked at Delphie slyly. “Thank you for the hospitality, girls. I'll show myself out.”