The demon’s vessel looked at him, smiling an unnaturally wide smile.

“I was hoping to run into you,” she said, this time out loud and not in Ethan’s head. “Let’s sit down.”

Not waiting for any kind of response nor confirmation, she pulled Ethan towards a small table at the far end of the bakery. Her grip was so strong, he felt she might just rip his arm off if he didn't follow.

He looked around, trying to assess the situation. It was around lunchtime, and quite a few people were milling around the bakery, getting their baked goods, sandwiches and coffee. If the demon decided to do something dangerous, there could potentially be a lot of casualties.

She dragged him to the corner of the bakery, where already a cup of tea and a piece of honey cake was waiting for her. In this corner, the only person within earshot was a tired looking, elven woman a table over, her eyes glazed over as she absentmindedly stirred her own drink time and time and time again.

The demon sat down and motioned for him to do the same.

“Have you had their honey cake? It’s the best thing I’ve had in half a millennium,” she smiled.

“Was there a lot of other cake in the book?” asked Ethan despite himself.

The demon laughed. “Not at all! That’s why it’s so funny. Because I haven’t had any cake in five hundred years?”

Ethan sat there flabbergasted, and the demon sighed. “You’re not a funny one. Shame.”

“I’m… sorry to disappoint?”

“Apology accepted. Wow, you’re wiggling about like a kid at Winterfeast, looking for a reason to get up and leave. Rude. I thought we’d have plenty to talk about.” She took a bite out of her cake.

“Then let’s talk. What do you want to talk about?”

The demon smiled, and Ethan tried to take in as many details about the vessel Dreamweaver was inhabiting as possible. She was young, maybe about the same age as him, maybe a little older. She was a half elf with features that were more striking than beautiful, with sharp cheekbones, and downturned, violet eyes that seemed just a bit too big for her face. Her hair was short and messy and black, and everything about her seemed bony and angular, like someone who forgets to eat on a regular basis. There was a speck of strange, shimmering blue dust on the sleeve of her blouse.

“I’m going to be honest with you, I was really bored out there in that book,” she said. “I could barely see anything, hear anything. Sometimes I could gather enough energy to awaken my consciousness fully, if only for a little bit at a time… only to see snot-nosed children wiping their boogers on the glass cover, or tour guides in the museum talking about Sepulchre’s achievements! All the great things he could never have done without my help!” she waved her fork in the air to indicate just how upset with that turn of events she was.

“Uh-huh,” said Ethan.

“Enslaving the souls of hundreds, making his enemies cower in fear as he conquered half of Valinas, all the riches and pleasures of the flesh the realm could provide - which he never could’ve done himself! None of it!”

“Yeah, so about why you want us to talk…”

She blinked. “But we are talking? Aren’t we?”

Two other women arrived at the bakery and sat down with the absentminded elf one table over, the area erupting in “Oh, it’s been ages! Oh you haven’t aged a bit!”. Ethan hoped the ladies were not in the habit of eavesdropping on the nearby conversations.

“Let’s start small,” he ventured. “What should I call you? Dreamweaver is… not a usual name.”

“Oh, easy. You can call me Sen, detective.”

“Is that your name, or that of your vessel?”

“Mine, of course. The poor thing has a name nowhere near as pretty as mine. Also, I was thinking, and I don’t really like calling her my vessel. It just sounds so… awfully formal. Stiff. And a bit rude. We’re roommates.”

Roommates!

“Do you pay rent?” blurted out Ethan.

“No, but I grant her great power and privilege. I know how to keep my roommates happy,” Sen proclaimed, sipping on her tea. She squinted, then added three sugar cubes to her cup.

“How much say does she have in what you do to her body? Is she home right now?”

“You’re sounding very accusatory right now, detective,” she grimaced. “She can do whatever she wants whenever she’s awake. I just take over whenever she’s asleep.”

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Ethan took out his pocket watch. “It’s five minutes past noon.”

“Yes, yes it is. Very astute, detective.”

“No, I-” Ethan couldn’t help but squeeze the bridge of his nose. “Why is she asleep at noon?”

“Oh, she takes at least four naps a day.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah. And she always gets her full eight hours. Usually ten. It’s really nice. You don’t tend to see a lot of that anymore in the modern world.”

“I see,” there were far too many questions going through Ethan’s mind. Questions like how dangerous is it for her body to be controlled by an eldritch being for 12 or more hours a day and get no actual sleep? Instead, he asked, “So, Sen. Now that you’re… free, what are you planning to do?”

“Right now, eat honey cake. Later? Who knows.”

She sounded sincere. Ethan relaxed a bit. Maybe the demon wasn’t going to be a bloodthirsty beacon of the apocalypse after all, and that was just the cult’s wishful thinking.

“I really enjoy having warlocks, they’re fun. I was thinking about taking a few of them on, people who would be more loyal than Sepulchre was. So a lot depends on what the warlock will want to do - world domination? Killing all their enemies? Establishing the new great dynasty in Valinas? I’ve had a great many kings as my warlocks,” she said dreamily.

“Does your… roommate count as a warlock?”

“Of course. But we have a special relationship that goes beyond that.” Sen put down her fork, a sure sign she was about to say something very serious. “Detective, do you want to be my warlock and secondary roommate?”

“I- excuse me?”

“Okay, listen. Listen to me, detective. This is absolutely a great idea, I promise you.” her eyes shone with excitement. “My current roommate would still be my primary roommate. Her body is just more my style. More comfortable than yours looks. But you? There’s something about you. You’re different.”

“Bet you say that to all your potential vessels,” he grumbled. He resigned himself to taking his own baked goods and eating them here instead of at home, reading Pori’s guide to magic! (practical guide to safe magical practices for children aged 3+).

“No. Well yes, but only because they are special. I wouldn’t consider them as ves- I mean, roommates otherwise.” she crossed her arms. “Alright, I can tell she’s about to wake up soon, so I’ll make it quick. You feel… different. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but you do. And you’re ambitious. Determined. There’s things you want to do, but they’re out of your grasp. It might take you years, if at all, am I guessing right?”

“Well-”

The mind manor. God, if I could only break into this stupid mind manor…

“Of course I’m right. I have a nose for those things. But what if you could forget all those pesky steps in the middle and jump straight to the finish line? Whatever you wish, it’s yours. Power and knowledge at your fingertips.”

“For the low, low price of… occupying my body whenever I’m asleep and doing god-knows-what?”

“Well, not every time you’re asleep. Only when I want to give my poor roommate a break… or I need your body for something.”

“That’s a… tempting offer,” lied Ethan. “But I think I’ll pass.”

She grabbed his arm, her violet eyes shining unnaturally. She leaned closer. “You’re determined now, but sooner or later, your resolve will fade. You’ll be helpless and lost and the world will be crumbling around you. There are things at play here, things you have no hope to possibly understand, things that will leave you broken and helpless and gasping for air. And when that happens, detective, just close your eyes and allow yourself to dream. And I’ll answer, and I will weave a new reality around you.”

Ethan realized she had not blinked once in the past minute.

“I’ll keep it in mind. But it won’t be necessary.”

“Sure, you think that now. But I’m in a good mood, because this honey cake is to die for - I’ll even give you something for free.”

“How generous of you.”

“It all boils down to one thing in this world, detective. It’s all about fear.”

She slumped back in her chair, and the vibrant purple of her eyes went away, replaced by a deep cyan. She looked around confusedly, as if taking in the scene for the first time: the empty plate in front of her, the bakery, Ethan himself.

“Oh,” she said, her voice softer than before. “I’m sorry. I think I have to go, uh… sir.”

“Wait,” said Ethan. “You’re not Sen, are you?”

She looked at him with an anxious expression, like a kid who got in trouble with the teacher. She shook her head.

“I can help you,” he said, hoping he’s right. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do, actually,” she looked down, avoiding his gaze. “I… I have to go now. Really.”

She walked briskly towards the door.

“What’s your name?” he called out after her. To his relief, she turned around.

“I’m…”

A chair at the table next to Ethan turned over, the elven woman sitting in it writhing in pain, foam coming out of her mouth. Her eyes were open wide, her hands grasping at her throat.

“Maerith? Maerith!” the two women sitting next to her jumped up in their seats. A coffee cup toppled over, spilling all over the tablecloth and the woman on the floor.

The fiend at the front desk rushed into action, in one fell swoop jumping over the counter and towards Maerith.

“Is there a medic here?!” he bellowed, performing CPR with hands bigger than the woman’s head.

Nobody answered. Several people turned back, leaving the store in a panic or to look for a healer. Some moved closer to have a better look.

Ethan caught a glimpse of Sen’s vessel leaving in a hurry, taking advantage of the panic.

“Maerith? Maerith, honey, are you okay?” another woman, a dwarf in a sharp pantsuit, was crying loudly. The other woman was frozen in panic, clutching onto the dwarf’s shoulder.

Maeirith was motionless on the floor, her eyes open wide, her lips stained purple.

“She’s not breathing,” the fiend said softly, his loud and booming voice quiet with shock. “She’s dead.”

The other two began sobbing even louder, their cries filling the entirety of the bakery. Ethan moved closer.

The foam, the purple lips…

“She was poisoned,” he said grimly. “Close the shop, there was a murder.”