By the time we reached my apartment, the horizon had begun to bleed across the pocked stone steps leading up to the front entrance. Elena could barely stand, exhausted beyond measure and forced to lean almost completely on me in order to trudge lifelessly inside. Still unused to my own strength, I slammed open the door hard enough to make the inlaid glass rattle ominously. My attention was more preoccupied with the mail boxes than the door though, as someone unfamiliar stood before them, staring at me with wide eyes.
Had the PRT tracked us even here? I tensed, every muscle in my body ready to lash out at the first hint of trouble. “Who the fuck are you?” [Rotlimb: Another night wasted.]
“Your new neighbor? We’ve met.” The unimpressed delivery was enough of a departure from what I expected to give me pause. I did vaguely recall meeting a new tenant two doors down a few weeks ago, right before I became like… this. “You nearly broke the door, guy.” [Footloose: You said it, Four! Weeks without getting laid! Weeks!] [Belial: You mean to tell me you didn’t derive even a hint of pleasure from that interrogation, Rotlimb? Color me surprised.]
“Right. Sorry,” I grunted as I helped Elena forward. It was effortless to bear her weight, but she needed to lay down before— [Footloose: Twooooo, why are you such a creeeeeeep!] [Rotlimb: Well sure, but that’s just a blip on the radar. The rest of it was a total loss. I don’t give a flying fuck about Seven’s kid.]
“What’s up with her?” my neighbor asked, their expression and inflection cold enough to make it clear exactly what they thought was happening. [DZ: That’s because you’re a prick, Rotlimb.]
I floundered for a moment, trying to put together a believable assurance that no, I had not roofied some woman at a bar and dragged her semiconscious body home. Blessedly Elena spoke up first. “I am his sister, and I have had a long day. Klaus, if you’d please?” [Rotlimb: Heh, listen to the mouth on you, kid. Better watch out, or mommy’s gonna scrub it out with soap.]
I waited just long enough to see the light of recognition dawn in their eyes, likely having just noticed the familial resemblance, then I finished hauling Elena into the decrepit old elevator I ordinarily avoided in favor of the stairs. Whether Elena could have handled four flights of steps was not a question that needed answering. Eventually we made it into my apartment, and I was forced to acquiesce when she veered towards the couch instead of the hallway to my bed, where I had been trying to steer her. We sat, the groaning creeks announcing for all the world to hear the weight on our shoulders… also, how badly I needed a new couch.
“All of that,” Elena murmured, despondent. My eyes slid shut, a futile attempt to block out the memory of exactly what we’d done to that PRT officer by the time we were done. “All of that, and all we know is they were in the PRT building.” [Butcher: If that was enough to turn this bitch’s stomach, then just wait ‘til big bro starts seeing things our way.]
“It’s more than we knew yesterday.”
“We knew nothing yesterday.” [Rotlimb: Wow. Just wow.]
“Right. And now we know something.” [DZ: Uh… Klaus?]
Elena rubbed at her eyes, her movements slow and deliberate—pained. [Footloose: Shushola, DeeeeZeeee! I’m watching the trainwreck!] [Rotlimb: If you’re gonna do fucking pep talks, can they not suck ass?]
The color commentary left me grimacing. I had no idea how to handle this; what to do, what to say. I had done everything in my power to keep myself insulated from this world. I’d been thrown in feet first, and without Elena’s help to get my bearings and stay afloat, I’d have drowned beneath the waves. Trouble was, we needed me to be far, far better than that. Elena was incredible, but she needed rest. I didn’t—not anymore. That meant I had to pick up the slack, that meant I had to—
Belial spoke, his words like a knife to the heart, cutting me down to my very marrow. [Assemble the Teeth.]
“Excuse me?” [DZ: Ah fuck.] [Butcher: Heh.]
“What are they saying?” Her gaze met mine, and I swore she was looking straight through me at the unwanted tenants in my mind. The weariness wasn’t gone, but something else, something hard, had taken its place and left me transfixed. “Tell me.” [DZ: Be careful, man, Belial is dangerous.]
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Elena, it’s Belial, you know he’s—” [Rotlimb: Eat a dick, Three.] [Butcher: Listen to your betters.]
“Klaus.” Undeniable, officious. Almost against my will, my mouth shut with a click. “Alexia and William are missing. My partner and son are gone, and all we have from a week of our constant, concerted efforts is confirmation of the PRT’s involvement.”
[You wish to save your nephew, Klaus? The child you brought into this world?]
She was more than running on fumes, burning the candle at all angles as she had been, but the same words could aptly describe her stare, its intensity rivaling the fiercest of flames. A laugh bubbled out of her, not of humor but of hate—for herself, most of all, I had no doubt. The sound of it washed over and through me, carving out a piece I knew I would never see again. The air shifted, stiffening into steel, a cold crown upon her brow. Genuine tears took the place of the faux blood she had been painting herself with. I couldn’t decide which was worse.
[Tell me, how will you retrieve the mother and child if they are locked away behind the PRT’s walls? How will you find them if they are secreted away to some unknown corner of the city? Of the world?]
“Have I not already dressed the part to his satisfaction? Blood and bones were his vision of couture, after all, not the Butcher’s. Tell me what advice Belial affords us, and I will accept it, no matter how small. Tell me what cost he demands, and I will pay it, no matter how great. If I must deal with the devil himself, then so be it. I will find my family.”
[You need more than an army of two, tireless though you yourself may be. You require manpower. You need the Teeth.]
For once, the other voices held their tongues. A welcome mercy. Elena’s proclamation and Belial’s attempted manipulations demanded my sole attention. She was hysterical—understandably so!—but appealing to Belial was a step too far. She needed rest. Honest to god sleep in a bed, not the short naps she had been taking during our stakeouts on whatever surface was available while I held the watch, Footloose denying me the pleasure of ever dreaming again, his death and his power haunting me in equal measure.
“What he’s suggesting is madness, Elle! This is how he draws you in, don’t you get it? He promises you your heart’s desire, and all you need to do is just one more thing. He’s a goddamn psychopath! A manipulator who’ll use you like a thing instead of a person and discard you just as easily!”
“If you are this adamantly against his suggestion, then you must find it abhorrent. He’s suggested your death? Appealing to the PRT directly? No…” The light in her gaze shifted from questioning to considering. “The Teeth. Yes, I see the wisdom of it.”
[Clever girl.]
The couch groaned as I pushed myself to my feet. I needed to cut her off before she could pick up steam. “You don’t need Belial’s advice, you need sleep. C’mon, let’s get y—”
I stilled, half bent over to give her a hand up, a blade at my throat. A sea of swords took shape, snaring me in a death trap. If they didn’t do me in, then the spears I knew must be already falling from on high would when they pinned me to the floor like an insect in an entomologist’s collection—a presence unfelt but not to be questioned. Father had named her Iron Rain for a reason.
“This is not a negotiation. This is not a request. This is a demand, and you would do well to heed it, Brother.”
Oh god.
Elena rose, weapons in hand and with more coalescing by the moment, whirling like the cogs of some great and terrible machine. A week of desperate searching punctuated by stolen moments of fleeting rest had left her gaunt and weary, and I could see the strain controlling this much was putting on her, but I had no doubt she could strike me down. My power might be proof against a normal man’s bullets or knife, but I couldn’t bend the keen edge at my throat to my will, and I had little reason to suspect the rest of what she brought to bear would be any different.
“Even were the Empire not the inception of this state of affairs, they would sooner slit my family’s throats than rescue them. No, Belial is right. The Teeth may have tried to kill us before, but they answer to the Butcher.”
I had six more to choose from, but she had been forged in the fires of Father’s Empire. More than that, I had watched her mastery flourish since Alexia convinced her to go rogue. While Alexia had certainly done her best, it had been mostly Elena’s overwhelming skill that saved them from pennilessness. No, to treat Elena as anything less than an angel of death, primed to strike the head from my neck would be a grave mistake.
My words came out barely a whisper, the edge eating into my throat too much to do more, “I’m your family too.”
If anything, my plea for a return to reason made matters worse, her expression hardening. “Make a scene. Show them you will take charge, and they will follow.”
“… and if I refuse?”
The steel around us seethed and swelled, and blood trickled down my neck. “Then I will do so myself.”
My eyes slid shut, a futile attempt to pretend this wasn’t happening. Had Belial planned this? Had he counted on my attempts to talk her down and her threats in response? Had he wanted her to become the next Butcher, or had he wanted to force me to assume the mantle?
Would I ever know?