In the heart of the redlight district, Kashana Casino appeared busier than any of the others I’d passed to get here. People crowded together at tables in the front of the faded red stucco building, and couples lingered on the verandas on the second and third floors with a cocktail glass or a cigar in hand.

I pushed through the casino’s glass doors and passed through an opulent foyer suffocating in red flower petals into a lavish entrance with glossy white marble floors. A noisy lounge to the left clashed with the din of poker and blackjack to the right, flanking a grand staircase where, unfortunately, I found Helas waiting for me.

With Callas perched on her shoulder, she beckoned me over with purple eyes open. “We’re heading up.”

“Wait,” I protested as she grabbed my arm. “Just ten minutes?” My tongue wanted to follow the taste of rum on the air, but my nose wanted to chase the smell of the sweat of liars more.

“Yes, I’m quite aware a place as ridiculously over-the-top gaudy like this is the perfect trap for your favorite type: easily fleeceable fools. Absolutely not.”

Even five minutes would be enough to have a little fun. “Listen—”

“No.” She tugged my elbow in emphasis, and so I let her win this one.

There was always time later.

I followed her up the grand staircase and answered her questions about the application. While she wasn’t particularly enthused about my intention to study demons, she seemed confident I’d be invited to sit for the first exam and encouraged me to study.

With what time? I’d wanted to ask, but I’d been her apprentice long enough to know her answer. I’d have to find some.

On the second floor, Helas led me to a second set of stairs guarded by two muscular women who both gave Helas a welcoming smile before looking at me like they wanted to break me in two. On the third floor, Helas brushed aside a set of black curtains and led me into a room hazy with cigar smoke.

This room looked by far the most lavish in the casino, but that made sense for the office of a crime organization boss. Gold chandeliers glowed with harsh blue light that had to be burning off some magical potion. In vibrant contrast, the red walls reflected the hue of pooled blood against the intricately embroidered rug and the couch wrapped around the front reception area like open arms welcoming us into a den of danger.

In the middle, a broad-shouldered man sat with a pair of beautiful people to his left and right, each of them gifting us with cursory glances as they sipped from fluted glasses. Three more people curled up at his feet; one of them offered to hold his cigar as we entered. They dressed in a wide assortment of colorful tunics, robes, and trousers.

“Andreges,” Helas greeted the boss of the Triam Drana with a wide, almost conniving smile.

“Helas.” He had brown skin similar to Helas and short gray-black hair. The blue lighting above him cast his face in a sinister mock of a grin. He stood to give her a hug and finished it with a belly laugh. “And this is… Therzin?”

His golden eyes found me, striking beneath his thick black eyebrows. How much had Helas told him? Knowing her and that smile, probably much more than I wanted him to know.

I nodded. “That’s the name Grandma gave me.”

Helas scoffed, and Andreges chuckled.

“I’m Andreges Nololto,” he introduced himself. With two fingers, he gestured one of a half-dozen others drifting around the office with trays of fresh fruit and refreshments, and one of them came over Helas and me to present us with two rings. “Wear this. Necessary precaution.”

“Is it?” Helas mumbled but obliged.

We both took one and slipped it onto one of our fingers.

【NOTICE】

You have equipped an item: Ring of Veiled Tongues [Uncommon]

This ring is part of a set that obscures the conversations of its wearers within ten arm spans, rendering the words unintelligible to others.

“Welcome to Kashana Casino, Therzin,” Andreges said, gesturing at us to sit with him as he reclaimed his spot on the couch.

Helas shoved me to one side and sat next to me.

He continued, “It’s a shame to have met you in these circumstances, but if you’re family to Helas, then you’re family to me. Let me introduce you to my daughter as well.”

The person who’d brought us the rings stiffened. “Dad…” she growled.

“This is Rila,” he said and flashed his teeth in a proud smile. “She’s about your age. You’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other from now on. She’s a great fighter.”

“Dad!”

Now that I looked at her, the family resemblance became impossible to miss. With half her head shaved, Rila had thick black hair with an unruly wave to it, brown skin and fierce golden eyes, a prominent nose and a body that looked built to take damage. Whether she was a great fighter, I’d find out eventually.

“What?” he asked her, eyebrows raised in innocence as he outstretched his arms and shrugged. “I guess you don’t like me bragging about how good you are at kicking ass? My very own daughter? Who I raised up so well all by myself?”

“Dad, please…just not in front of me…” Her voice was husky like her father’s, but the growing redness of her cheeks seemed like a trait they didn’t share. She backpedaled as though hoping it’d help her disappear, but he only laughed.

They seemed very close. What would it have been like if Mother hadn’t died when I was young? Would we seem this close? Would she tease me in front of guests as well?

“Name’s Therzin,” I said, surprised how easily that came out of my mouth. Since it was our first time meeting, I put a hand to my heart and bowed slightly. “Nice to meet you.”

She reddened more, returning the greeting with a scowl. “Yeah, sure, same.”

A roaring laugh ripped out of Andreges. “I know you want to run away, but if you sit with us, I’ll get you that big sword you’ve had your eye on a while.”

Her eyes brightened, a grin was just like her father’s replaced her frown, and she marched to the section of the couch across from Helas and me. “Anything for family.”

I turned to Andreges. “So should I call you my uncle?”

Helas made a show of rolling her eyes. “The kid's not great at the whole family thing yet,” she said. Not like she could blame me when she knew what had happened to mine. She was all I had now. “He uses the word as an insult. But you know I vouch for him so just cut to the chase.”

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“We’ll win him over,” Andreges said as he set his gaze on me again. “Families help each other. You help me, I help you, yeah? You need more information about demons.”

“And you need help with Magazzinàre,” I said. “I’ll call you uncle then. Helas told me a bit about them.”

His features tempered. “Fine, call me Uncle Andreges.” He relaxed back on the couch with a low grunt and crossed his arms over his chest. He reached for a cigar. “Yes, that’s right—Magazzinàre. Rila?”

“About two years ago,” she picked up for him as he started smoking, “all the potion shops in the arts district started getting their supplies from them exclusively.”

He grumbled, and the person on his right held up a short glass with two fingerfuls of rum. He took an impressive gulp. “Never heard of such a thing. Exclusive. What happened to competition?”

Helas interrupted him. “I’m sure it’s been inconvenient, but—”

“Very inconvenient, yes! Rila?”

“After they made deals with all the potion shops in the arts district,” she continued, “they did the same to the potion shops in the merchant district. Locked them in as their exclusive supplier with what seemed to be incredibly low prices. Monopolized the market in just a few months.”

“That’s how I’d do it,” I said.

“Then, of course, raise the prices,” Helas added.

“That’s why they’re very, very inconvenient,” Andreges said. “Once they had hold of the market, they started adjusting the prices of some the most common of ingredients. Say there are shortages. When everyone knows ancient sage grows like grass in the midlands?”

I’d seen the prices myself thanks to Helas’s errand. The cost of a small healing potion were easily three times more expensive here than in Noveden and five times as expensive than in Sørgentsen. The nobility may not have trouble paying that, but the people who needed healing potions the most would probably go without and end up dead in a dungeon.

“You didn’t say that you made an exclusive deal with them,” I noted.

“We haven’t,” Rila said, folding her braceleted arms over her chest.

Andreges gave a low chuckle. “We said no, but when they drove off all the other suppliers, we’ve been left with no other options.”

“You’ve tried negotiating the prices down?” Helas asked.

Rila shook her head. “They’re not interested.”

“Did you try violence?” Helas asked, shifting her gaze to Andreges.

“That’s what we’re planning right now.” Andreges took a long draw of his cigar. “A few brothels under our care have already shuttered their doors because they couldn’t get their hands on enough drouges to satisfy their most loyal customers. We’ve been able to find new placements for everyone, but it’s getting very, very, very inconvenient.”

“Also,” Rila added, “they seem protected by the Royal Guard.”

“Ah,” I said, “the stench of nobility.”

“That was my guess,” Helas said.

“And mine,” Andreges said. He cracked open a one-sided smirk. “Except for one detail. The assholes made it hard to track down the origin of the first shipments but not impossible. We've narrowed it down to three potential places.”

“You’re hoping it’ll lead you to them?” I asked. “Where are they?”

Rila answered, “One warehouse in the merchant district and two in the slums.”

“Lead us,” Andreges corrected me with a reprimanding look. He’d really meant that family thing, hadn’t he? “We’ll run some reconnaissance together first. Make sure we know what we’re getting ourselves into first.”

Helas released the softest, sweetest laugh I’d ever heard from her. “Oh, Andre, you’re still so protective. You know there’s no Souled Being who can stand against me. Give us the locations, and we’ll go tonight.”

“I want it to be that simple,” he answered, “but my gut’s telling me there’s something bigger going on here, something that we’re not prepared to handle. I want us to exhaust all our avenues of information before we go in.”

These two could not be any more different in their approach. I hadn’t met someone yet who didn’t fold under Helas’s bravado. Let alone because of a gut feeling. It made me like the man a little.

“I wasn’t arguing,” Helas said lightly. She glanced between Andreges and Rila. She must like them more than a little. “It’s a trait of your family’s that I love.”

Rila shied from her gaze, tucking some hair behind her ear. Andreges returned Helas’s fond look, but there was a tightness to his jaw, a stiffness in his back. There was a story here, and they were sharing something quietly in this moment.

It reminded me that I didn’t know that much about Helas after the two years we’d spent together. She’d told me next to nothing, trusted me with nothing more personal than her name and address. What little I knew—that she was a dragonkin, that she’d taught at Tairayat before—I’d found through my own research.

With that, Andreges grinned at his daughter. “You’re free now, little butterfly."

“You really, really want to push this family thing.” Rila stood, face red, but she was working hard to manage her facial expression by the tautness of her casual expression. To me, she said, “You should definitely call him Uncle Andre.”

“…I probably deserve that,” Andreges said as he watched her head downstairs. He took another drag of is cigar, and he pointed at me with it while he exhaled. “You must call me that when she’s here. It’ll make her happy. Now, you need more information as well, don’t you? Tell me about Duke Vulros and then I’ll share with you what I know about demons.”

When I glanced at Helas, she nodded. She must’ve told him everything, so there was no reason for me to withhold any information. He’d sent Rila away because she didn’t know yet, and a foreign sense of appreciation rippled through me.

I told him how my demon-possessed father killed me in my dorm room in Bolstaor a few days ago, how he’d taken his cane to my head a couple times. I told him how he’d killed my mother, how she’d revealed herself as a Slayer when I was killed by a demon that he’d summoned and given me its core to save me.

“Two painful ways to die,” Andreges reflected.

“Hoping the third’ll be the charm,” I said with a scoff.

“Did he see you die this last time?”

I let my mind return to the sound of his footsteps walking toward the door, down the hallway… My head ached in response, my stomach twisting, my heart hammering like it was afraid it might stop again.

“No,” I said, “he didn’t stay long enough to see me struggle against death and win. He was confident enough to leave me to die, and so that’s what he’ll believe until he’s confronted with enough contradictory evidence to convince him otherwise. That’ll take a while.”

As I answered, Andreges motioned to one of the people seated on the floor near him. They stood, grabbed a gold tray from a corner of the wraparound couch, and present it to us. On one side sat an open box of cigars and an ashtray, and on the other hand a couple of glasses upside down beside a decanter of rum.

“So it’ll take a while for him to believe you’re even alive,” he said as Helas treated herself to a cigar. “That’s good. Do you think he’ll suspect you’re a Slayer?”

“If he sees me.” I poured a drink for Helas and then myself.

“You’ll get an item for that once you summon your patron god,” Helas said. “I think he’ll suspect anyway. If he was confident enough to leave you to die, then he won’t believe you could’ve survived any other way.”

“Like your Loveless Cloak?” I asked, focusing more on the first bit of what she said.

Andreges’s thick eyebrows raised into the wrinkles on his forehead as he peeked at Helas. She sighed and closed her eyes. They spoke a language of expressions that I didn't know yet, but I was beginning to be invested in learning.

“Yes,” she said, “and he only knows the name.”

With that, Andreges muttered a summoning spell, and a pair of reading glasses and a notebook appeared in his hand. He put them on, addressing me again.

“He’ll come looking for you eventually,” he agreed with her, “but we have some time to prepare for him. Ezrenad is only half of the equation. He’s not only a Cored Being anymore—not anymore than you being only a Souled Being now. It matters how strong the demon is, but it also matters how strong the duke was when he was possessed.”

Helas held up a hand. “While that’s true, how a demon comes to possess a soul and how we tether to a core is different. Reversed, almost. Demons are already tethered to their core, just like we’re born with possession of our souls.”

Andreges nodded. “Demons must work to take possession of someone else’s soul, just like it takes work for Slayers to tether to a core. They remain dormant while they take possession—for months, for years even. Then when they do, not only do they come to possess a soul, they gain access to the system.”

“Why do you know so much?” I asked as the question came to mind. Helas hadn’t mentioned demons before I’d led one to her in Bolstaor a few days ago, and she probably never would’ve told me she was a slayer if I hadn’t become one. Andreges might be someone she considered family, but that didn’t account for his knowledge.

“What?” he asked. “You’re not the only one who has a demon in their family. The younger brother of my great-great-grandfather just happened to take notes.” He licked a finger to quickly flip through the pages. “Ah, yes, here we go.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Arabat Nololto,” Helas said. Of course, I recognized the name. “In his private writings, he conjectured that while demons don’t have access to a system, they must be compatible in some way, or nothing would change after a demon completely possessed a soul. The system is forced to account for the possession. And that’s where the difference matters most.”

“How does the system account for it?”

“For weaker demons,” Helas said, “they might end up stronger than they were before in their previous form, like the demon you fought in Bolstaor. That demon had an Epic core, and the human was probably Level 14. I’d guess that the human’s stats ended up at least doubled.”

“Here.” Andreges handed me the notebook opened to a double page spread.

My eyes took in the scribbles about affiliation, titles, cores and their responding multipliers and limitations. Arrows and question marks branched between terms, none of which had a working definition on the page. In a corner, a status screen was roughly sketched out with stats like constitution and willpower.

When I went to study it more closely, Andreges said, “Take it with you.”