Ethan chuckled nervously, hoping that he seems more convincing than he feels.
“It’s nothing, really. It’s… not even worth talking about!”
“Bullshit.” said Lysandra, crossing her arms. “You’ve been nervous. You’ve been unsure. You, Gilbert, the most self assured mage I’ve ever met. You ask questions you already know the answer to, as if questioning reality. You’re harboring an undead in your apartment, and just a month ago, you never would have hesitated to hand Tila over to the Guard. And you barely even use your magic anymore!”
She paced around the office as she listed all of these, then turned and pointed an accusatory finger at Ethan as she said the last thing - as if not using magic was the most out of character thing for Gilbert Shadowveil.
He sighed, ready to come clean, ready to explain he is not Gilbert Shadowveil and that he is a fraud, a lost cybersecurity student who is freshly out of a job and is now like a fish out of water and the real Gilbert didn’t even have the decency to leave his mental mansion unlocked-
“You’re sick, Gilbert, aren’t you?”
He blinked.
Huh?
She came closer now, and her accusatory look softened into one of concern.
“What is it? Veilrot? Hollowheart? Or something more like Mage’s Blight? Look, I don’t want to pry into your personal life or medical issues - but if it is something that is going to somehow have an impact on our job, like if your mana processing receptors are fried by Mage’s Blight, I think I should know so I’ll know what I’m dealing with.”
Ethan blinked again. He didn’t think - he tried, but the engine was busted.
“I…”
Lysandra nodded encouragingly.
“You’re right. I am sick,” his mouth said as his brain was booting up. “It’s like I’m not myself anymore.”
He tried telling himself that it wasn’t a lie; whatever he’s going through should absolutely qualify as a sickness.
“It’s not terminal, is it?” asked Lysandra softly.
“What? No, no it’s not. It’s just… there’s a lot of new things I’m getting used to right now. I know I haven’t quite been myself, and I’m… not sure if I’ll ever be.”
That part, at least, was very real.
Lysandra nodded in understanding.
“I won’t pry for more, I just have one more question.”
He nodded.
“What do you need from me, Gilbert?”
He thought for a moment.
“Do you have any books on memory and mind palaces?”
Lysandra raised her eyebrows, taken aback. “It’s not my area of expertise, but I have some recommendations. I’ll write them down for you, you should be able to get them at the Athenaeum.”
As they sat down at their desks, Ethan began to think. The pieces of the case were still dancing around his mind.
“What is going to become of the souls bound to the pages of the Codex, now that the demon is gone?” he asked. Lysandra seemed to know a lot about the Codex.
“I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted. “It is up to the Museum if now they will try to release those souls or not - I think it should be easier to set them free now, but I’m no expert, just an enthusiast. It is likely the Magister of the Arcane will intervene and make her final decision on behalf of the Crown.”
“And the demon - that’s also not our problem anymore, right?”
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Lysandra laughed.
“You’re welcome to take a few days off, Gilbert. But I do think that they will likely want the best detective in Arcalis looking for the demon and their vessel.”
He thought about it. He wanted to continue this life - as long as he could. But he’ll need some time getting acquainted with the world, first.
“I think I’ll take the week off to gather myself, then,” he decided.
Lysandra gave him a slight smile from her desk. “Go ahead and go home, then. I’ll handle writing the report.”
“Oh yeah, about home. What shall we do about Tila?”
“I mean, despite what she’s done, she was a member of a cult. I think getting her to the proper authorities is the only way, they’ll know exactly what to do with her - and she might know more about the demon that was set free. She’ll probably get sent to Saint Capricornus, that boarding school for special cases, you can’t exactly keep a child assassin at your apartment forever. And it’s not like she’ll get executed at the age of 7.”
At least that’s a relief.
“I’ll bring her over, then.”
“Good. I’m sure Cole will be thrilled to no longer be on babysitting duty.”
He bid Lysandra farewell, and left for his apartment.
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An apartment that was turned upside down by Tila.
“I don’t wanna!” He heard a high pitched scream from inside the apartment before he even opened the door. “It’s nasty!”
“It’s the only thing in here… for some reason,” answered Cole dryly.
Ethan opened the door and coughed.
“Having fun, are we?” he asked.
“This dead man wants me to eat nasty things!” Tila said in an accusatory manner, pointing at a bowl of witch dog cheesy ramen.
“There are over 50 bowls of these in this apartment and not much else,” Cole said, disapprovingly. “This is not proper nutrition.”
“Yeah, I haven’t cooked in forever,” said Ethan. “Tila, do you want to get that ice cream?”
“Yes!” exclaimed Tila, momentarily forgetting about the ramen transgressions. “I want ice cream, and an ice cream sandwich, and I want an ice cream float. And spaghetti.”
“With ice cream?” joked Ethan.
“Spaghetti doesn’t go well with ice cream. That’s nasty. You’re nasty.”
Tila got up to her feet, then in a blink of an eye, appeared standing right out of Ethan’s shadow.
“What happened to my brother?” she asked.
“Your brother, uh… got dumped, and didn’t take it very well. That’s why you’re spending the afternoon with me,” Ethan tried to sound as cheery as he could. He couldn’t think of a nicer way to say ‘he summoned a demon who rejected him and he got arrested’.
This explanation, however, was more than enough for Tila. She nodded thoughtfully.
“Okay. I’ll put my shoes on now, and we go eat ice cream. I’m hungry,” she informed Ethan in a tone that made it clear it was all his fault.
As she disappeared to put on her shoes, Ethan turned to Cole.
“I am not entirely sure how capable the Guard here is, but I would imagine the clues will lead them to your warehouse sooner or later,” he warned. “You may want to go get your computer before they do. Don’t wanna lose all that Solitaire.”
“I’ll go right away, then. I imagine they are currently busy with bigger problems?”
“You have no idea. What are you going to do next, Cole?”
“Keep a low profile for a little bit, move my things to a new location. And you? Are you planning to keep this charade up?” Cole gestured widely at all of Ethan - all of Gilbert, rather.
“I think I do, yes. In a strange way, this… feels right.”
Cole nodded and put on his hat. “I’m certain we’ll see each other around then… detective.”
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The afternoon came and went, and so did the evening. Ethan and Tila had ice cream together, which came in flavors both mundane - good old vanilla and chocolate - and some rather… eccentric. Tila made him try an ice cream that tasted like a cold scoop of thickened sriracha, and Ethan felt his eyes water after a single bite.
It wasn’t until the next morning that he dropped Tila off, trusting that Lysandra knew what she was talking about. He promised Tila he’ll come and visit her, and meant it; Tila asked if he can bring her brother when he comes. He said he’ll do his best.
He spent his week off studying what he could about Arcalis; in addition to Lysandra’s recommendations for books on mental palaces, he bought a small library of educational children’s books and used them as his starting point. He figured it was the only source he’ll be able to find that will make no assumptions about his prior knowledge. After all, he didn’t even understand the local calendar!
He finally put down “Baby’s first Calendar!” and “Little Sir Rufus learns incantations!”, confident that he at least has the world understanding of a 3-year-old, and feeling damn proud of himself.
He went to a local bakery, HELL’S BAKES: Best baked goods in this plane and the next!, ran by an 8-foot-tall fiend whose name Ethan still struggled to pronounce - but when it was written down, he could’ve sworn it looked vaguely Polish.
“Mister Shadowveil! Your regular?” boomed the fiend.
“You know it!” he said. He couldn’t help but smile - for the first time in a long, long while, he felt like things were going alright. Freshly baked goods, the smell of coffee, a week-long vacation…
A cold hand grabbed him by the arm. The fingers were long and thin, but the grip was that of steel.
Dear mortal, said a reverberating voice inside of his head, we meet again.
The demon’s vessel stood behind him, smiling and not letting go.