The hotel seemed an indeterminable amount of miles away with a drunk Jace in tow. Blake had finally let go but was now doggedly leading the charge back up the street, always six or seven paces ahead. Keil found himself trapped in a jovial shoulder-hug by Jace. His breath stank and he was pushing down hard, and Keil disliked how chummy Jace was now he had a significant amount of alcohol in his bloodstream. Miki, who had followed Keil out of the library, was now bouncing along on Blake’s shoulder.

“Hey Genius,” said Jace conspiratorially, stage-whispering into Keil’s face, “what do you reckon ol’ Moon-Head and the library hottie were doing after hours, eh?” He nudged Keil sharply in the ribs and winked. “Eh?”

Keil twisted his mouth and tried to shift Jace off his arm, but the more he wriggled, the heavier Jace became. Jace glanced at Blake and continued.

“I mean, between men and all, you can tell us. It’s probably nothing I’ve never done, anyway.”

“You are a disgusting being, did you know that?” Keil said. Jace frowned, mock-hurt.

“It isn’t my fault I’m irresistible.”

“Nobody needs to know about your exploits. Right, Blake?”

But Blake was not listening and could offer no support. His attention seemed fixed on something else. He stopped and craned his neck, tilting his head back towards the library.

Keil shoved Jace off him and tapped Blake tentatively on the shoulder.

“Blake?”

Nobody was walking, now. The street they had turned onto was narrow and there was no other sentient being around. Only a couple of orb lights lit the doorways and the shadows were long and hungry. Keil turned, but he could see and hear nothing. Jace sighed dramatically.

“What’s the hold up now?” he said.

“Shh,” said Blake.

All Keil heard was silence.

Then, in the near distance, a whirring, rotary noise, like a tiny helicopter. Keil had never heard a noise like that but Blake, suddenly, was rigid, like the sound struck abject terror into him. Jace opened his mouth to speak but Blake clapped a hand right over it and glared at him meaningfully. Miki covered his LED eyes.

There was a green glow, by a piece of architectural frill.

Keil gripped Blake’s upper arm and did not turn his gaze away.

“B-B-Blake. Blake, look,” he whispered.

Blake looked in Keil’s direction. He saw it, too. Nobody moved.

Only the rotors of the round, black bot whirred. The green eye was trained directly on the men.

“What do we do?” Keil whispered.

Blake blinked; Jace struggled under his hand.

“We run,” said Blake.

They did not need telling twice. Blake bolted, followed swiftly by Keil who was surprised his legs reacted as fast as they did. Jace, still drunk, stumbled over his own feet at first and then gained pace. Keil did not turn around but he knew by the change in the noise that the robot was in hot pursuit and not slowing down.

Blake darted down a side street. Keil noticed a touch too late and in the hurry to change direction, he fell head over feet across the cobbles.

He felt his glasses fly away and the scrape of the stone on his hands and arms, and he heard feet pound past him, the owner not noticing that Keil was down. The green light increased. The robot was nearly upon him. Keil couldn’t see, but he did not want to be left at this machine’s mercy, so he lifted a hand to the disappearing figures of Blake and Jace.

“Wait!” he screamed.

One of the figures turned. Without a second’s hesitation, it ran back towards Keil and dug a hand into its pocket.

Keil watched as the figure pivoted above him; he heard the impact of metal on metal. The sentry bot slammed into the wall to Keil’s left, rotors whirring and eye sparking, unable to manage flight. A hand reached to Keil’s and hoisted him up; Miki swiped up the glasses. They did not wait. They started running again.

The events of the evening had shaken Clara awake. She had been stumbling in a dream that was not hers, trying to finish work she had not started. Now... now there was something hers alone.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

She cleaned up her books and turned off the lamp on her desk, and she was certain all at once that she heard a weird whirring noise.

She frowned and turned, taking the ribbon from her hair.

“Hello?” she called. Nothing answered.

But there was an acid green glow disappearing from the end of the shelving.

“Blake?” she said, going towards it. “Is that you?”

By the time she got to the end of the shelf, the noise and the light were both gone. Clara shook her head and blew out a deep breath.

“Seeing things,” she whispered. It was understandable, considering.

She tied the ribbon on top of the one that held her notebook closed, tucked the notebook into her back pocket, steadied her selection of books in her arms, and headed to the lobby so she could go home for the night. As she left, she locked the door; she passed the security bots and gave them a little wave to show them she was safe.

Clara was some way from the building when she felt uneasy in a way she never had on Star’s Reach’s streets, and when she turned and saw a shadow on the wall that was not hers, she understood that she had been right to feel afraid.

Then a hand grabbed her mouth and her books fell to the floor.

Jace reached the hotel room first. He only stopped when he saw the bed and knew he was safe, and then he put his hands on his knees and panted until he felt like he was not going to throw up. Some time later, Blake and Keil stumbled in and slammed the door, and Blake immediately whirled on Jace.

“You are such an asshole, you left him!” he shouted.

Jace pulled a face. “Left who?”

“Keil!”

Keil leaned against the door, his face all scraped up, wheezing.

“I thought he was right behind me -” Jace said, but Blake got right up in his face and shoved his shoulder.

“Well he wasn’t!”

Jace was surprised. He had never really seen Blake animated before, only still and certain, but there was a blush in his cheeks and tears in his eyes and his hands were shaking. On his right hand, his Scopic Gauntlet was extended.

“He wasn’t in any danger,” said Jace.

“How do you know?”

Blake’s eyes were doing the thing, again. The radiating, silver waves. The same thing Jace had seen in Keil’s workshop, and again in Wyvern’s bridge.

In his fear of Blake’s odd powers, Jace became more defensive.

“If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t be in any danger!” he said, pushing Blake back.

“And where would you be if he was? By his side?”

“Of course!”

“Bullshit! The only person you care about is -” And Blake jabbed a gauntleted finger into Jace’s chest, “- you!”

There was a knock on the door.

The argument froze. Jace held his tongue, which was a feat even when he was sober; Blake heaved in deep, calming breaths. Keil blinked, bit his lip. Jace glared at him.

“Say something!” he hissed.

“Um...” Keil cleared his throat. “Who’s there?”

Through the door there was the ‘arr-pap-pap!’ of Miki.

Everyone sighed with relief. Keil opened the door and the robot hopped in, Keil’s glasses in hand. He held them up towards Keil, who seemed surprised.

“Oh, thank you!”

“Arr-pap-pap!”

Keil put his glasses on. They were a little more lopsided than they were before, but at least he could see.

“Now,” he said, “if you two are done arguing -”

“You’re bleeding,” said Jace, his eyes on Keil’s scraped hands. Blood seeped from his left trouser leg, too – doubtless he had cut it when he fell. Jace forcefully nudged Blake out of his way and went to do what he was meant to, which was stem the bleeding.

“He’d be bleeding a lot more, out of his brain, if I hadn’t gone back,” Blake fumed behind him.

“Triple suns, give it a rest!” Jace sat Keil on the end of the bed and rolled up Keil’s trouser leg. Sure enough, most of the skin on his knee was gone. “It wasn’t about to kill him -”

“You don’t know that,” said Blake firmly. “Those things are armed.”

“What was it?” said Keil timidly.

It was quiet, then. Jace was glad. He wasn’t sure he could hold his temper any more than he already had done. Focusing on cut skin and blood was calming. He had trained for that. He was not trained for whatever this charade with Blake was.

The only thing available for Jace to dab the blood with was the duvet, so that was what he used. He had already paid for it, after all.

“He asked you a question, Moon-Head,” he snapped at Blake.

But all of the fire was gone out of Blake. He stood at the window, closed the curtain and turned back to the bed.

“It was one of King’s Eyes,” he said.

Keil’s eyes widened. Jace frowned.

“Then... then -” Keil started.

“Then he knows I’m here,” Blake murmured.

And he darted for the door.

“Blake, where -?” Keil demanded, but the door slammed.

Blake ran towards the library, with much more urgency than he had before. He ignored the carcass of the sentry bot at the street corner and pushed himself harder than he needed to. If King knew he was at Star’s Landing, then -

He skidded to a stop. There were two books, scattered on the street.

Carefully, Blake lifted one. It read, Songs of Innocence and Experience – William Blake. The name made his stomach swirl, like something he had long forgotten.

“Clara,” he whispered.

He scooped up the second book, tucked them both inside his jacket and hurried on, towards the library. He did not get very far, however, before he heard a piercing scream.

He turned. To his right was an alleyway. Shapes moved in the shadows.

“Get off me!” the voice screamed.

Blake’s eyes narrowed. He slipped his gauntlet back on. He could see, now, what he had not seen before. Clara was struggling between two large men, pulling as hard as she could to get free.

There was another silhouette, though. A female one.

“Tie her up nice and tight,” said a silky, dangerous voice.

A voice Blake knew.

He felt it, boiling his blood – the silver in his eyes was hot and it hurt and he knew it was going to take him over again. This time though, he would not back down and he would not fight it.

“One,” he whispered.

“Stop squirming, bitch!”

“Two.”

But before he could finish, before he could even activate the gauntlet, there was the cry of, “Oi, bastards!”

He stared, astonished. The scuffle stopped. At the other end of the alleyway, grinning cockily, was Jace.

“You wanna fight?” he said, raising his fists. “Then let’s fight.”

The female silhouette turned. “Oh, please. Boys, leave him, just -”

When she turned back, her men were unconscious on the ground, and Blake and Clara were nowhere to be seen. The other man had also vanished.

“Bollocks,” she whispered.