The early afternoon sun streamed in through the locked window despite the cool breeze they were longing for inside. In this corner of the manor, far away from the roving duties of the family, servants often sat in the sunlight for a moment of rest before hurrying along. It was almost like clockwork, which worked to the thief's favor as he watched a washing woman scurry past from his spot in the garden, concealed by overgrown plants.

If anyone had waited around to hear it, there would have been the faint sound of a click as his picks made easy work of the lock, slipping between panes and undoing it with a flick of his wrist. His gloved palms slid the window up until the hole was wide enough for his hips. He slipped through the new entrance, his feet connecting soundlessly with the wood floor, and although his dark cloak wasn't useful in the bright light coming in through the window, Nathan preferred to keep his face hidden in case his intel was wrong. For the time being, the manor was silent, but he wasn't going to take his chances waiting for that to change.

Several days ago, he'd made his way through the low town and the bustling crowds to The Pregnant Lady, a casino which was as rich in coins as it was in patrons. He forced his way through men crowding the entrance, undoubtedly kicked out for making a ruckus Nathan guessed, since they were deafening him as he slipped between their shoulders. They were calling bets to some of their friends who had been allowed to stay inside. Once he forced between them, Nathan wrestled with his instinct to keep his hood up and try to slip between the working girls unnoticed. Instead, he took in a shuddering breath and let it fall around his shoulders so the Mothers would recognize him before they slipped a knife between his ribs.

As he worked his way through the bustling interior, he nodded at the dealers and staff who went to block his path and then drew away as they recognized him. He tried to ignore the way they picked him out so easily, reminding himself that he wasn't trying to hide as he pushed through a door to the staff quarters. He was on a job, or he would be, as soon as he found Jaide.

He snaked through the building, taking staff doors and narrow passages downward, until he broke into the real operation happening under the noses of patrons upstairs. There was a haze of cigarette smoke in the air and spell-lit lanterns casting red light. Women of every kind lounged around him, talking hushedly around drinks, hiding their lips with fans, and eyeing him dangerously as he slipped between the crowd. There were a few men around, and people who fell in between, but they were as rare as an honest deal in the Mother's Den. Nathan almost had the mind to turn around and leave as he felt a shove on his shoulder, ignoring the growing whispers as eyes lingered on him.

The same kids who got swept up by the Brotherband had been finding refuge with gangs like the Mothers more frequently in the last few years. Nathan tried to be as discrete as possible, but these women should've been able to recognize him by now, he thought. It's only been, oh, several years running errands for you all, Nathan thought bitterly to himself, but the anger kept his face neutral as he weaved between pillars of women.

Finally, he reached the back of the den and found the door he wanted, knocking harshly and putting his back to the wall. Eyes found him everywhere, but this way, he wouldn't be surprised. After a few counts, the door opened, and he was ushered inside by a tall, dark woman with shorn hair.

He shook off his nerves and stood waiting for her to reveal the plans. Jaide's office was a small, dark room with schematics plastered all over the walls. He was convinced they were exclusively decoration, but there was a story painted in the blueprints she'd put on display. Nathan knew she had thousands more in the Den's library for when lackies like him needed them, and these ones acted as trophies of her victories.

Jaide sat down at her desk, leaning back and eyeing him before opening her mouth.

"How are things down in the sewer?" Nathan felt his nerves double.

"Horace executed another rat. He's on a rampage." Jaide grunted in agreement, studying the wall.

"Dangerous time to be a Brother, huh?" Nathan didn't feel the need to respond, watching her eyes flick to him to catch his reaction. He couldn't find the energy to humor her. "I have a job for you."

She laid out the plan, pulling schematics from her desk and leading him through them. They had records of guard patterns, servant staffs, habits of the nobles within, everything a shadow like him might want to know to stay out of sight. She pointed out the target and he furrowed his brow.

"That's it?" he asked.

"If you question our bosses, I can have someone with bad news knee-deep in water by the end of the night." Nathan bit back his betrayal, but she threatened to out him nearly every mission debrief. If he ever learned to keep his tongue in his mouth, he might live to twenty.

"Consider the goods secured," Nathan forced out, clenching the hem of his cloak.

"Same payment as usual?"

"Obviously." Jaide cast him a dark glare, but he pretended not to see it. Nathan never accepted money from the Mothers, that's how rats like Samuel got caught and hung. They had their own deal, but if Jaide was going to taunt him, he wasn't going to waste time being respectful. He made his way to the door as she snapped back at him.

"Tell your dancer that Mother says hi." He slammed the door in his wake.

His soft boots slipped silently through the manor, Nathan taking his time but moving with confidence. His time with the schematics had been brief, but he'd ironed them into his mind already. The servants did regular circulations, there were a few hired guards but nothing too impressive. The noble family was out of the house today, and all he had to do was make it to the bedroom on the north wall before he could relax.

Nathan ducked into a closet as someone appeared at the end of the hallway, waiting for a few minutes until he knew the coast was clear. As he left the exterior walls, there were more shadows and he let himself slink between them, glad for conservative nobles who made their staff walk through dim light while they were away. Light was fuel was money, and unless you owned the hospital, there was no such thing as too frugal.

He stalked into a long hallway, hurrying down the corridor as he felt his internal timer on the edge of alarm. He just managed to slip into the bedroom as the next servant rounded the corner. They continued on none the wiser.

Nathan turned to face the room and was only mildly intrigued to notice how barren it was. It was the Nattiens, after all, he'd heard about their poor luck in the paper and from Brothers eager to make a cent off of it. Still, this was the kind of sparse you saw in servant's rooms, not one of the family's.

But he wasn't here to inspect furniture, he was here for a job. He stalked forward, keeping his footsteps silent although he didn't have to remind himself to do so. There was a bookshelf along one wall, stuffed full of books and curling calligraphy. Nathan cursed at pretentious academics as he struggled to read them, but he could pick out enough to know which titles to ignore. He plucked two books and stuffed them in his pack. He'd come for three.

He moved to the desk beside it, sorting through loose papers littered over top. Curiously, he skimmed through them and found himself taken aback. The names penned in in neat handwriting were unusual – "Trial by Hellfire", "Frozen Fingers", "Salt lacerations" – and the word "devil" so often Nathan thought he was seeing double. He tried to shake off his curiosity and continued rummaging through drawers.

Alas, there was no book there. He shuffled around the desk and kicked a leather bag on the floor beside the chair, surprised that he hadn't noticed it sooner. Nathan crouched down and dug around until he found a big book. It was half-filled out and had no title, so he returned it. Then he pulled a slender black book from the bag, flipping open the cover to read the title written more legibly: "Lords of Hell". He let a smile split his face as he slipped it into his pack.

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Nathan was half a step away from the door to the bedroom when he watched the knob twist and push inward. He froze in surprise, watching as a kid in blue and yellow stopped in the doorway, a cup of coffee in his hands and eyes widening as he revealed the scene inside his bedroom. They stared at each other for an eternity of a second before Nathan drew his knife.

He flashed forward and drove the hilt into the kid's stomach, not waiting to watch him double over as the cup fell from his hands. It shattered on the floor a second later, but Nathan was already out in the hallway, turning to run back the way he'd come.

There was a sputtering sound behind him, and he assumed it was the noble doubling over until one of the curtains from the wall flew at him, wrapping around his face. Nathan fought it off of him deftly, but it was a waste of precious seconds as he heard the kid start to shout.

"Thief! I need guards!" Nathan spared a glance behind him and made out the noble leaning on the wall, a hand on his stomach where he'd been jabbed. Should've used the pointy end, Nathan chastised himself, watching the kid raise a hand again. Magic, of course he has magic.

Nathan reached in his pack quickly and found a ball bearing, hurling it at the noble as he began an incantation. It hit his wrist as Nathan turned to keep running, and he judged it had worked to interrupt the spell since he made it around the corner without being assaulted by more furniture.

He fought to remember the layout of the manor as he cursed Jaide in his head, ducking into a side room he hoped had another exit. The family was supposed to be gone today, that was the whole reason he'd been told to enter the bedroom, sure he wouldn't be interrupted. And yet here he was, dodging through a doorway and softening his footsteps as he worked out a path, very interrupted. He'd had the foresight to look at the schematics outside of his route, but not anywhere near the same depth. Now he was moving slowly, listening for footsteps and shouts, if the noble boy ever found a servant.

Nathan peaked his head out of a doorway and found himself on one end of the windowed hallway, the opposite side from where he'd crept through to the bedroom. The hall was clear and so he pushed past the door, making to a window silently.

His ears picked up a whisper and he let himself peak over his shoulder before breaking into a sprint. He only had to catch sight of the yellow waistcoat before committing to the run.

Suddenly, with strange words thrown into the air, Nathan lost his balance and tripped, tumbling to the ground. He hit hard and slid across the carpeted wood, feeling his arms bound against his chest and fighting to breathe as something wrapped tightly around his body.

As he slowed to a stop, he could see the glowing white rope wrapping around him, shrinking tighter and pushing painfully against his thin body. At the end of the hallway, the kid stood with his hand in a fist in the air, panting. He stalked forward as Nathan thrashed in the rope.

As the noble approached, Nathan looked up to find his eyes were on something past him, and he turned to see the books he'd nabbed scattered on the ground after his tumble. The noble knelt down and picked up the black book, the ropes tightening as Nathan gasped for air.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding–" Nathan started, but the noble cast him a deadly glare as the ropes cut against his body.

"Why did you want this book?" he asked, shoving it towards him. Nathan blinked past his confusion and panic.

"I don't know, I was just told to get it."

"Do you know what's in this book?"

"No! Please, I can't breathe–" The noble leaned back, his face inscrutable as he looked down at the thief. Suddenly, the ropes gave him a few inches of room, and his panic waned. As Nathan caught his breath, fighting off the image of Samuel's blue face forced into his mind, he watched the noble look around the hallway like he was a child about to steal a cookie. Nathan was afraid that he'd nailed his expression on the head when the kid raised his fist and Nathan was pulled upright.

"We need to have a word in private, I think." He pulled him through the hallways and back to his room without interruption.

Nathan hadn't been interrogated before, but he was fairly sure sitting in an armchair, unthreatened except for the tight magic rope around his arms and ankles, was a poor strategy. The noble – was his name George? Nathan couldn't remember – stood in front of him like a disappointed parent, arms crossed over his small chest.

"Let's make this easy on both of us, you will only tell the truth," he said, but Nathan wasn't looking at him. He was giving his bedroom a second glance, hoping to figure out what had happened to put him here. Why was the noble home?

"Did you hear me?" Nathan felt a soft grip on his chin and suddenly he was looking into the boy's chocolate brown eyes. "I command you to tell me the truth." Nathan found himself blinking as he studied George's eyes, like something had crawled from his brain into Nathan's and was making a home there. He felt like he was waiting for something, but he didn't know what.

"Why did you want my books?"

"I'm on a job," Nathan blurted, and he clamped his mouth shut. George's eyes narrowed and he leaned back, his fingers dropping from his chin.

"For whom?"

"The Mothers– please stop."

"Why these books?"

"They wouldn't tell me why." Nathan wished his mouth would stay shut, but he couldn't stop answering his questions. A spell, Nathan thought, but he didn't know which one. It's not like magic had ever been taught to him, he could barely even read. "They're going to kill me if they know I talked to you."

"Why don't you worry about making it out of my house alive, first, hm?" Nathan bit the inside of his cheek, but he couldn't stop himself from responding.

"I'm not worried." George turned an eye to him, but he must've sensed the spell had forced the words out of his mouth, and Nathan thought he saw the barest hint of a smile pull at his lips.

"What do you know about me?"

"You're a Nattien kid. George? You weren't supposed to be here today. You know a lot about devils." George's face contorted in surprise, and then his eyes flashed to his desk. He walked over but Nathan caught the edge of panic in his movements as he lifted up papers and reminded himself of what he'd left on the tabletop. He reread the same words Nathan had – salt, hellfire, frozen, devil. He set the papers down and closed his eyes as he thought. Nathan felt like an ounce of his control had returned.

"Why . . . do you want my books?" the noble asked.

"I already told you, I don't know. If you let me go–"

"This is the one book I need, and someone told you to steal it. Out of the hundreds I have on my shelf, you found the one I need." Nathan hesitated before he answered, hearing the edge of rage in the noble's voice.

"You need a book on devils?" George cast him a glare over his shoulder.

"I need the poem inside. You can't take this book, it might end the world." Gee forced himself into Nathan's head, but he ignored it.

"What do you mean? It's just a bunch of paper and ink, that's not what ends the world."

"And what does, since you know so much?"

"People do. And my world will end well before everyone else's if I don't leave with that book."

"Three out of my whole collection," George mused, ignoring him as he opened the black book and read the page silently. "How did they know it was in this book?"

"You don't seriously suspect some gamblers want to end the world?" Nathan retorted, and George turned his attention back to him. The dark look in his eyes made Nathan hesitate for a second.

"What do you think?" Nathan went to answer quickly but found his tongue fighting against him. If the paranoia laced into his visits was any hint that he didn't trust the Mothers, this was the nail in the coffin.

"I'm not sure. They haven't showed me any kindness."

"No? Do tell." Nathan could feel the spell pulling his will away from him, but he tore it back as he forced his mouth shut. He grimaced against the pain and fought to keep his heart rate low as it soared in his chest. George narrowed his eyes as he watched him fight the spell.

"I wouldn't tell you that if it killed me," he growled. Suddenly, the noble waved a hand through the air and Nathan felt the suffocating urge to spill his secrets vanish, like a massive weight had been taken off of his chest. George took a seat in his desk chair a few feet in front of him.

"This book has the words in it that will save my world, too. If you don't trust your gang, trust me when I say this is more important than the both of us. Maybe–" George paused in thought, his eyes searching the ground between their feet. "Maybe I can keep you safe until then."

"Why would you do that?" George's eyes rose to meet his.

"I'm feeling sentimental. What sort of skills do you get from being a thief?" Nathan considered if he should respond, but this was the first time he hadn't been compelled to answer as he picked his own words.

"Being quiet."

"Been on the road much?"

"You could say that." George leaned back in his chair, his halo of brown hair curling softly around his face as he considered something. It might have been a nice sight, Nathan thought, if he wasn't still a hostage.

"I'm going to give you the two other books. I hate to part with them, but I want you to understand the severity of our situation. My group is going to meet tonight, we're looking for help and maybe that's how I can keep you safe. Until the world isn't going to end."

"I have my own world," Nathan said quickly, his cheeks flushing as he thought of Gee. "I can't leave him."

"Do you think he'd be interested in saving the world?" Nathan could almost laugh as he nodded. "I'll see both of you there, then."