An exhausted Damien landed in the warehouse yard. He found an empty crate and slumped down on it. He didn’t even have enough energy to conjure a comfortable chair. This was the first time he’d wielded Lizzy’s power in a fierce battle. Using it exhausted him far more than just drawing on his own. He didn’t know why that should be. It seemed like using someone else’s energy instead of his own would be easier not harder.

Marie-Bell rushed out of the warehouse and ran over to him. “Are you hurt? I felt that monster die. It must have been a terrible battle.”

“Yeah, but I’m fine, just tired.”

She moved around behind him and pressed her hands against his back. Warmth and energy flowed into him. A few seconds later she moved around to the front. “Better?”

“Yes. That’s wonderful. A man could get totally addicted to your touch.”

She blushed and looked away.

He winced. “That didn’t come out the way I intended. Thanks for the boost.”

She turned back, but kept her eyes lowered. “You’re welcome.”

Eager to change the subject Damien said, “Did the prisoners give you any trouble?”

“No.” She finally met his gaze. “I studied them with soul sight. In general they’re less evil than I expected. They’re not saints by any means, but I don’t think they’ve done anything really horrible yet either.”

“Isn’t watching an innocent man be murdered horrible enough?” Giovani Blackman walked over to join them. He’d liberated a mismatched set of pants and tunic from the warehouse inventory. Damien hadn’t even noticed the man standing in the shadow of the warehouse. That showed him more than anything just how tired he was.

“Oh, yes,” Marie-Bell said. “But just watching something vile doesn’t stain your soul the way participating does. I don’t say this to excuse their actions, just to explain. I don’t especially understand why it works that way, it just does.”

He nodded, not seeming especially mollified. “So what happens now?”

“Now we wait for my sister to return with the city watch. I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you as well. If you don’t mind telling your story twice, I’m curious how you came to be in the possession of the cult.”

His angry sneer turned into a rueful smile. “My own stupidity mostly. I wanted to find my cousin, to ask him why he left us behind like so much trash. We all loved that boy. Anyway I figured the easiest way to find Connor was to join the Horned One’s cult.”

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Giovanni was right, that was stupid. So stupid Damien wondered if he was lying. The flow of soul force in his brain didn’t indicate it, but Damien slipped the psychic block in anyway. “Let me guess, they were less than forthcoming about Connor’s location.”

“Yes. The truth is I doubt the evil buggers had the least idea where my cousin had gone. The more time I spent with the cult the clearer it became to me that they wouldn’t be of any help in my search. Finally I decided to quit and find another way to locate him. The leaders didn’t take that well at all. They locked me up and tortured me for weeks. I received just enough food and water to keep me alive. I can’t for the life of me figure out why they spared me for these many weeks instead of killing me right off.”

“How long has it been?” Marie-Bell asked.

“I’m not entirely certain. They locked me up in the middle of winter. What month is it anyway?”

“July,” Damien said.

“Wow. I guess it’s been about five months. Seemed like longer to me.”

“I’m sure.” Damien stood up and stretched. Jen was close so he wanted to wrap up their conversation. “To answer your question, I suspect the reason they didn’t kill you was fear of what your cousin might do. If Connor still felt kindly disposed toward you he might have taken vengeance on the cult for killing you.”

“Then why sacrifice me now?”

Damien patted him on the back. “The cultists probably finally figured out Connor was just using them. No doubt their anger overrode their caution.”

Lights were coming down the street. Damien went to join his sister. He hadn’t gone a step when Giovanni grabbed his hand. “Have you seen Connor? Is he okay?”

Damien pulled his hand free. “I haven’t seen him face to face. As to being okay, Connor traded his soul to a demon lord. I think it’s safe to say he isn’t okay.”

Jen entered the yard with a small army of watchmen in tow. Each man carried an armload of irons and they set to work binding the cultists. The sun was coming up when the twenty watchmen finished replacing the soul force bindings Damien had used with regular wrist and ankle irons. Three enclosed wagons with iron bars pulled by four-horse teams clattered into the warehouse yard to transport the prisoners back to Watch Headquarters. Across the street some of the locals had gathered to gawk. They stood in little knots, muttering amongst themselves.

Damien was too exhausted to care what they were saying. He sat with Jen and Marie-Bell on a conjured couch and watched the men do their work. None of them offered any help beyond Marie-Bell removing the soul force collars one at a time.

“What have you done now?”

Damien turned his head toward the angry voice. A short, barrel-chested man in a disheveled uniform strode toward them, his hands waving and his face red.

Damien turned back to his sister. “Tosh?”

She nodded, not bothering to stand up.

Tosh stopped in front of the couch, hand on hips. “Well? Answer me.”

“Your job,” Jen said. “If you spent half as much time working as you did chasing skirts maybe you would have noticed a demon cult operating in your city.”

“How dare you!” Tosh sputtered in his anger.

“How dare I what?” Jen asked. “Tell you the truth? I know you don’t hear it much from your toadies, but I promise it won’t do you any permanent harm. Now why don’t you go pester someone that cares what you think?”

Tosh snorted and stalked off to bark orders at a group of watchmen who were busy loading one of the wagons.

“He’s a real charmer,” Damien said. “I don’t suppose you know a good inn? I could sleep for a week.”