The walk from the police station to the market district was a blur as Helena tried to make sense of what had happened. “I can’t believe you agreed.” She peered at him. “You don’t look like a shapeshifter either.”

Kilduff closed his eyes and grimaced. “Strains my mind as well girl. But since I won’t be able to get the captain to hire a proper priest, I might as well get his money’s worth. Especially since the man’s likely as not to take the funds from the pension.”

She shook her head and turned her attention to the riot of people around her. She had a lot to think over, and worrying about the barbs the Inspector would throw at her wouldn’t help.

The market was the most cosmopolitan part of the Immigrant Realm. There were smaller markets all over the city, but this was the place where people from every realm in existence could meet and buy items from across reality. The crowded streets were filled with people, humans and other creatures, and the stalls were filled with all sorts of wares. A woman selling Sumerian beer called out to them before getting distracted by a couple of tourists from the Ganglands. The smell of cinnamon and saffron drew Helena’s attention towards a centaur’s stand, but she dismissed the stall when she saw the spells keeping the aura of spices circling the air. If his produce was worth it he wouldn’t need to fake the scent.

Kilduff tapped on her shoulder. “So what unholy ritual are you going to be using to find the murderer?”

Helena slipped around a hooded kishi who was trying to use his charm to sell some kind of snake oil elixir before replying. “I’m going to walk around and talk to people. If I had a name or some object linked to the killer or the mage I might be able to track them, but blind divination is a complete waste of time and money. We need more information.”

The policeman’s sour expression lightened. “While I appreciate that we’ll be sticking to normal policing for a bit, ‘asking a few questions’ rarely gives answers. The type of folk who will admit to seeing an undead abomination against the Lord hopping down the street while covered in blood are the type of folk who call for help. Everyone else will be explaining how they ‘didn’t see nothing’ even if we had a photograph of them walking next to the damned thing.”

She considered that. Fear of dark magic and the undead did seem reasonable. And Helena wasn’t going to convince anyone who was scared of retribution that she could keep them safe. “I see. But there’s another trick in my hat.” Helena looked up at the man. “As you repeatedly pointed out, I do know how to make a jiang-shi. And I know the type of materials a Taoist trained magician would need. Which means I can try to find out where the man is buying his supplies.”

“That’s a dead end,” Kilduff said. He paused then shrugged. “A useful dead end though. If there’s a Chinese monster hopping about, the Triads have to be guilty as the devil. Which means they’ll have bought their supplies through the black market. Proving that will force the Captain to get me the search warrants on some shadier businesses.”

“I’m glad I could help.” She hadn’t been expecting much off today’s investigation, but the Inspector’s off-hand dismissal still annoyed her. There were probably forty people in the city that had her knowledge. It had to be worth something more than that.

The smell of roasting meat hit her nose, and reminded Helena she hadn’t eaten yet. A quick turn brought them to one of the streets that hosted food vendors so the shoppers and merchants could grab a meal in between deals. It was day, so most of the sellers were aiming for human and human-like customers, though there was a troll grilling rats and raccoons for the more monstrous shoppers. Sausages in cheap bread were the most common food items, but Helena dismissed those. She gave the carts roasting meat for tacos or with pots for rice a closer look but nothing really called to her. Then her eyes fell on a stall just past the intersection, it’s sign bearing Hermes sigil.

Helena pushed past a crowd of men arguing over fish prices and waved off a smiling jaguar man selling chocolate before arriving at a large stall. She approached the young woman standing there, knowing the man running the stall wouldn’t help her. As the woman bowed Helena let her voice slip back into the familiar Greek of her home city. “An order of kykeon, with honey and cheese.”

“Ah-” the woman seemed surprised to be addressed in a civilized tongue, but she recovered fast. After a look over her shoulder to see if the man running the stall was watching she said, “That will be six cents.”

“Done.” Helena was overpaying, but not too much. And she had a sneaking suspicion about the other woman’s position in the household. As she pulled out the coins she casually asked, “So what is your name?”

The young woman hesitated and glanced over her shoulder again, before saying “Melita.” She pulled out a jug and filled a hard paper cup with the thick mixture of barley and water that Helena had ordered.

“Thank you,” Helena said to Melita, slipping another penny into the woman’s hand. The lack of a city told Helena everything she needed to know. The woman was a house slave, probably one of the few the man owned. The spark of hatred that ignited burned brighter than Helena remembered, but she had long experience forcing her distaste down. And right now she wanted to focus on her meal. She sipped the kykeon, savoring the taste.

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“What is that?” Kilduff asked with wide eyes. “Looks like that sludge the folk over the river drink for that ‘healthy living’ nonsense.”

“It’s kykeon. It’s fairly good if you season it properly.” She smirked and held the cup towards Kilduff. “Interested in some?”

The inspector shook his head. “I found my own food,” he replied before biting into a tamale. Helena couldn’t fault the man. Her beverage was an acquired taste. And the Puerto Rican vendors were probably a better choice for anyone who hadn’t grown up on the bland foods of the Hellenic realms.

“Um.” The two turned to find Melita holding out a basket. “Perhaps you would like some figs as well?”

“Thank you ma’am, but I’m fine,” Inspector Kilduff said.

Helena shook her head. “I shouldn’t splurge any more.”

“Then you can move along.” The flicker of rage flared up around Helena’s heart as the stall owner walked over to shoo her off. “We do not need women who dress like prostitutes here. Though I suppose a prostitute at least remembers her home.” Melita flinched away from the brewing storm.

“I would not think it easy to mistake a priestess for a prostitute,” Helena snapped back. “But I suppose a pig from Eretria might have a hard time telling the difference. After all they are one and the same there.”

The man turned bright red at the insult. “Big words from a drunken Theban harlot! Alexander did us all a great favor grinding your city into the dust, and the gods erred when they rebuilt it! Obviously Dionysus got them drunk before their decision. Just as you get drunk before lying down with lions.”

Helena drew herself up to her full height and reached out the dark miasma around her. Darkness took form at her call and she reveled as the small minded merchant cringed away. “I serve Hecate, barbarian. And you should choose your next words carefully, lest you find the wealth you gained from the work of others given to them threefold.”

For a moment she thought the small minded merchant might beg her for mercy. But then his eyes flicked back toward Melita and his pride reignited. “My mistake,” he spat. “You whore with dogs instead of lions.”

The curses around her thrummed and she reached for her wand. A few days as a sow should remind him not to insult the gods, or their chosen….

A heavy hand slapped down on Helena’s shoulders. “What’s all this shouting then?” Inspector Kilduff said. The store owner flinched back again, and even Helena felt some of her fury abating. She wasn’t going to get away with turning the man into a pig now.

But she let her rage cool. The inspector’s presence gave her another method of attack. A much better one. “We were having a discussion about how he speaks around his slave.”

The harsh glare of the law turned on the now wide eyed stall owner. “That can’t be right, because slavery is illegal.”

“That’s… that’s right! The lying witch, insulting my assistant like that,” the man sputtered. His recovery was fairly good. It would probably be enough to deflect most police inspections.

But she wasn’t done yet. She instead gave her most cutting smile. “Oh? I misjudged? Then she has the ability to quit and find better work whenever she wants.” Helena grabbed three heavy silver dollar coins and walked to where Melita had been quietly cowering.

With a quick gesture she sketched a rune of guidance on the top coin with her left hand and made a prayer to Hecate to aid the bearer, then slipped the stack into the woman’s hand. She leaned over and whispered, “This will lead you to a friend. Tell him Helena Aoede sent you. And go with Hecate and Hermes’ blessing.”

Melita looked at the coins, trembling. The hateful glare of her ‘master’ promised dire retribution, while Helena’ offered only uncertainty. For a moment Helena worried that the woman’s spirit had been cowed by abuse and fear. But then a smile flitted onto the woman’s face. “I shall take my leave then, Laios Euboea of Eretria,” she shouted before running off into the crowd. Helena’s own smile softened as a small dog followed after the fleeing woman. It seemed Hecate had heard her prayer. The stray would lead the woman to her friend Petros’ shop. The old man was certain to at least offer a waitress position.

The shopkeeper Laios looked fit to burst at his slave’s escape. “A curse upon you Theban! May Apollo’s arrows of disease and pestilence strike you down along with all you hold dear!”

The weak curse flowed from the man into a sticky cloud that rushed Helena. With her left hand she caught the cloud and crushed it, banishing the miasma into nothingness. “I hope not. That’s a crime in this city.”

“Now now laddie,” Kilduff patted the man on the shoulder, none too gently. “You shouldn’t waste your time yelling at crazy ladies. Best put your efforts to finding new help. If you offer a solid wage people will line up for a job.” Kilduff turned and shooed her off. “Git girl! You’ve stirred up enough trouble. If I’m to play babysitter to you I want you to be doing the job you’re hired for.”

“Right.” Helena turned and started down the street. Kilduff followed, leaving the merchant to bewail his ill fortune. It was less than the man deserved, but a good down payment.

She would use his name to curse him properly later. A promise was a promise.

“I can’t say I like being used as your weapon in a fight,” Kilduff remarked as they walked along. “But I can’t fault anyone who frees a slave. Most people from your realm aren’t so kindly.”

“Slavery is terrible. If I could wipe the practice out I would.” Helena shook her head. “You’d have thought the people of Thebes would have learned…” Memories bubbled to the surface. A broken pot. A darkened mine. A shallow grave. All seen through a crystal across the murky waters of time.

She shook her head to clear it and sighed. “You can’t save everyone in the end though. Not even the gods can do that.” There were only so many friends she knew that could offer freedmen jobs.

Inspector Kilduff looked down at her then turned back to the street. “Mayhaps you should consider following the God who can do that.”

“If that god saved those people in this life instead of the next I’d consider it.”

Kilduff shook his head sadly, but he didn’t reply.

As they walked out of the market towards Chinatown Helena sipped her kykeon slowly, savoring the thick pottage. She wasn’t likely to find a place to buy it again anytime soon.

Still she didn’t regret her actions. Slavery sickened her to the core. And there was no way she could let an insult to both her city and her goddess go unmentioned.

In the end, it was just another piece of home she’d cut herself off from.