Harry guides us East, to a place called End Rail, Silver tells me.

I’m not exactly paying attention to her, or our surroundings. I’m kinda mired in self-disgust right now.

I almost killed someone back there. I wanted to kill her. If Helen hadn’t stopped me, I’d have committed murder. What does that say about the kind of person I am? I’m pissed at this city, at the world, at Rich, at me. I’m tempted to find Xander, shove the journal in his hand and go home. Put this horrible experience behind me. Tell my dad he was right, that the world is a horrible place and that I’m sorry for leaving and that I’ll never do that again.

Fuck, part of me even wants to tell him I’ll become a carpenter like him, so I never, ever run the risk of losing control like that.

If I wasn’t so pissed at Xander, I think I’d do it. But that guy put a price on my head. He’s basically paying people to kill me, and you know what? Him, I think I’m justified at being angry at. So I am sticking with this until I’ve taken what he’s after. Hurt him in a way I think will hurt the explorer that he is more than anything else.

But I am so fucking done with Detroit.

“Welcome to End Rail,” Harry announces. “Home of the Railers. Worse gang on this side of Detroit.”

We’re standing before what’s left of a stone wall of some sort. It’s been gone a long time. The parts of the foundations marking it have been smoothed over by the weather. Beyond it, there’s a dip that leveled onto a large expanse of trash mounds. Beyond that, is a large building, maybe two stories tall, but spreading over what has to be two city blocks. It’s caved-in in places, in others, it looks like there’s fortification on the roof.

“Is the place named after them, or did they name themselves after it?” Silver asked.

“Fuck if I know,” Harry replies.

“According to his contact,” Silver says, “Brandon came here the day before yesterday and hasn’t come out yet.”

“Normally I’d say he’s dead,” Harry says. “The Railers don’t take kindly to anyone stepping onto their grounds. But Brandy’s a tough son of a bitch.” He grins. “I don’t put good odds on you making it to him, though.”

“How about you make introductions, then?” Helen says. “Seems like you know some of them.”

“That’s not happening. This is as close to the place as I’m going. Unlike you and Brandy, I am not suicidal.” He turns. “Anyway. I did my part. I’m heading to club to take my payment. It’s been great knowing you.”

“You’re not going to help?” Silver calls after him.

“Not. Suicidal!” he replies without slowing.

“Dennis, I think you should talk to him. You can—”

I head for the building. I want out of here. That means I need to get Brandon. Which means I need to get in there.

Helen sighs, then mutters. “Bran’s a bad influence.”

“What’s the plan?” Silver asks, nervous.

“Get in, find Brandon, get out.”

“And you think it’s going to be that easy?” Helen asks.

“No.” I don’t like how gleeful I am at the idea of kicking all their asses. I guess that if I can’t kick mine or Xander’s, theirs will do.

The first pile of trash is hollowed out partway, with wooden and metal boards in place to keep them from falling-in. As is the second and third and fourth. Maybe they’re defenses against attacks? When we pass one with people in them, they don’t register until Silver says.

“Dennis? We might have a problem.”

I turn and face the two of them. One holds a sword, the other a club. One of metal board, the one they were working on, I’m guessing, hangs crooked.

“You’re trespassing,” the sword holder says.

“We’re heading over there.” I point to the building over my shoulder. Helen takes a step back and Silver stares at me.

“We can’t let you do that,” the sword holder says before she can comment.

I step toward them, sword appearing in my hand. “I would love to see you try to stop me. I have had possibly the worse day in my life, short of when Rich threw me down a hole. She kept me from killing someone already, so tell me, what level are you? What class? You have anything to heal with on you?”

I doubt being covered in barely wiped blood is having much of an effect on them. They don’t look that much better. But the one holding the club is backing away as I approach. The other’s lost just about all his confidence. And his sword vanishes as he raises his hand.

I keep mine as I stop before him, smiling. I pat his cheek. “Good boy. How about you get back to work? I’m sure that whoever’s still standing by the time I’m done is going to appreciate your diligence.”

I turn and head for the building again.

I’m to the next pile of trash before Silver rejoins me. “What’s your intimidation skill?” she whispers.

“I don’t have one.”

She looks over her shoulder. “Then what was that?”

“It was them being smart enough to know when they are in front of someone looking forward to making their lives painful,” I answer.

Helen’s sigh is filled with disappointment, and I don’t care.

We pass fewer and fewer hollowed out trash piles as we get closer to the building. When I make out a door, I angle toward it. We also don’t pass anyone else.

Most people are probably smart enough not to mess with them that they don’t need guard out here.

The door’s metal in a wooden frame. There’s a rectangle at eye-height that’s got a cover from the inside. I bang on the door and it slides open. Eyes surrounded by green skin look at me, surprised.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to get Brandon out.”

The eyes flick left and right; at Silver and Helen. “Fuck off.” The plate slides shut.

I bang on the door again, and again.

“I told you to fuck off,” he says before the plate’s fully slid open.

“That’s not happening. I’m going in.”

“You want me to come out and fuck you up?”

I grin as I step back. “Please do.” I don’t have to. The hinges are on the inside. He slides it shut.

The door doesn’t open.

I study the doorframe before stepping to the door again. It looks old, wasn’t put in place properly. Pressing on it, the wood’s softer than it should be, no matter what kind was used.

I bang on the door, and I’m ignored.

“Look. I’m coming in that you want me to or not.”

“I’d love to see you try it,” he says.

“Okay. You’re going to want to move out from behind it.” I walk away.

“I can blast it open,” Helen says.

I shake my head. I can deal with this. It’s going to hurt, but that’s fine. I deserve pain after what I’ve done. I’m over two hundred meters away when I turn to face the door. When I run, I put everything I have in it.

I’m reminded of a movie I watched. And yes, it would be hilarious if he opened the door before I collide with it.

I feel the pain in my legs as I put my shoulder down. Then it explodes with stronger pain as I hit the door. I get broken bone notifications, as I fall in along with the door.

The problem I’ve put myself in hits when I can’t push through the pain to get up. I’m inside, which means there’s at least one person who doesn’t want me here and might do something about it. So I can’t stay down here.

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Half my willpower vanishes as I grunt and push up.

A quarter more gets me to my feet and I turn and face the stunned orc.

Another problem. The shoulder I put down to take the impact is the one for my sword arm, which means I can’t fight until I’ve healed. Before that becomes an actual problem, Silver swings something into the orc’s face hard enough he hits the wall and drops.

The shape of what she used registered.

“Your violin!”

She grins and bangs the case against the metal door. It rings metallic too. “I upgraded. One of the traveling bards I met said I should if I’m going to travel too. Never know what’s going to hit it, so the harder, the better. I’m going to look for magical protection for it.”

“Do you realize how stupid this was?” Helen asks as I eat a healing bar. Two left. Going to have to be careful with them until I get more. “What if the frame had held?”

“Son of a carpenter, I know enough to know bad workmanship and wood that’s looking for an excuse to fall apart.” I look at the orc while the bar does its work, then tie him up.

“You don’t even know where Brandon is,” Helen says when I head deeper into the building.

“I’ll ask for directions.”

She mutters as she follows.

The building is surprisingly empty. Most of the rooms are set up with weapon racks, but they’s no one in them. There’s a sense that this is a defense position. Where they can hold back any attackers who make it this far.

When I hear people, I ready myself for a fight, but don’t equip my sword. There’s six of them in a room that could be a kitchen. Counters, wood stove, table. Three of them are playing cards while eating.

I tense when one of them looks at me.

“You’ve had a bad time,” she says. And I look at the dried blood on my armor.

“Yeah.” I wait a second in case they’ll do something and to settle my nerves. I wasn’t exactly expecting to actually get to ask anything. “I’m looking for the guy who kicked a door in a few days ago.”

“You want a turn at punching him?” one of the card player asks without looking up from them.

“Roy’s got him strung up in the butcher-room.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re going to have to take a number,” she calls as I walk away. “It’s not often we get someone tough enough, we might all get a turn at him.”

When I look over my shoulder, there’s anger in Helen’s eyes. I shake my head. Now isn’t the time to start something if we don’t have to. There aren’t as many people as I thought would be here, but we can’t win a fight against too many of them.

“So,” Silver whispers. “Where’s that butcher-room?”

“I don’t know.” And I can’t ask. The way she said it made it clear it was a place they all know about. “But I figure we’re going to know it when we hear the punching and grunting.”

When we come across people, we don’t even draw gazes. I’m surprised and concerned at first, until I realize that even Helen looks like she belongs in Detroit. Her robe is cleaner than I or Silver, but it’s clearly hand washed. It’s the sewing isn’t great where it got ripped.

“You don’t have magic to clean and repair your clothing?” I ask when we’re alone in a corridor. I’m pretty much lost at this point, walking until I don’t have a choice to turn.

“I never needed that. Joan has a service and they live two houses down.”

“Going to get those spells?” Silver asks.

“No. Because once we’re done with this, I’m never leaving Toronto again.”

I go to express the same sentiment, but I hear grunting in the distance. We exchange a look and head for that. It comes again, then I make out the sound of a fist hitting flesh and more grunting.

“That’s enough,” a man says.

“We done?” Brandon replies, the words slurred.

“Hardly. You owe me far too much. Your work as punching bag will last years.”

Brandon chuckles. “You let me go and I’ll get the money to pay you back. Working on a good score right now.”

“Do you ever stop lying, Brandon? You got me to front you the money because you promised you could get me the spear. Then, it’s two years before I see you again, without it.”

“You should see that ruin,” Brandon replies. “It’s one of the toughest one I’ve ever come across.”

“Is that why you still don’t have it? That you showed up in Detroit without anything to justify the lack of result.”

“I was still working on it, but you made sure I’d stop.”

“I made sure I’d recoup my losses.”

“I pay, and you return it.”

I’m by the open door at this point, so I can hear the whispered response.

“You really think you’re going to survive this, Brandon?”

I grab Helen’s arm before she passes me and shake my head. I pull her back.

Dennis. Let me handle this.

She glares at me.

Helen. That’s my brother they’re beating up.

Dennis. It’s Brandon. He’s probably enjoying himself.

Helen. I’m not letting him go through that.

Dennis. If I can’t stop this, you can act. Deal?

Helen. Fine.

I step into the doorway.

The room’s maybe seven meters deep, half that wide. At the far end is Brandon, who is tied to a hook connected to the ceiling, a rough-looking man holds him in place with a hand. Another is before Brandon, looking about to punch him, and one is against the wall. He makes me think of the mayor’s clerks back in Court, with the pad and pencil.

The only one looking in my direction is Brandon. Although that doesn’t last.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, and they all turn.

“You need to wait your turn,” the one I’m guessing is Roy says. Then he narrows his eyes. “Do I know you? How come I don’t remember you as one of mine, but you look familiar?”

Before I can reply, the clerk runs to him holding a paper. I have a good idea what it is, and the grin confirms it.

“Is he what you’re working on to pay me back?” Roy laughs. “I knew you were a bastard, Brandon, but selling someone off for money, really?” he hands to paper over. “Too bad he offered himself up to me. Because that means I don’t have to count it as you paying me.”

“What are you doing here, Dennis?” Brandon asks, as if Roy hasn’t said anything.

“Getting you out. And just so you know, friends ask each other for help instead of leaving the team.”

“This didn’t involve you, Dennis.”

“Someone needs to explain the concept of friends to you, Brandon. All you had to do was ask for my help and I’d have dropped everything.”

“What the fuck did you do to get him to think you’re worth being his friend?”

“Dennis, go back to the club. Okay? I can deal with this.”

“Not without you. So whatever you needed to happen to pull off your escape, how about you do it so we can leave?”

And, as the people close to him step well away, I see the worry in his expression. Whatever hope I’d latched on as I listened to him talk, that he’d planned for all this to it happen, drops.

He might actually be in trouble.

Okay, then I’m here to help. I equip my sword.

“Don’t do this, Dennis,” Brandon says. “Just walk away.”

“I don’t leave my friends behind.”

Helen mumbles something that I actively ignore. I don’t need the distraction failing to understand the words will cause me.

Roy laughs. “Kid, you are way more of an idiot if you think you can take me on.”

“Then,” Helen says, stepping being me, “How about I do it?” The next word makes my brain go sideways as I don’t have a choice but hear it, and can’t make it mean anything, but the heat that follows quickly brings me back to the situation.

I glance up and her hand is covered with fire.

“So,” she says. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to let my brother down, we’re going to leave, and I’m not going to burn this whole place to ashes. How does that sound to you?”

Brandon looked annoyed; everyone else is clearly afraid. I guess they didn’t plan for a sorceress. Roy gets over it, then has a small crossbow in his hand. Before he can fire it, a jet of flame engulfs it and his hand. The clerk hurries to ratchet Brandon down. As soon as his feet touch the ground, he gets his hands out of the hook and offers them to the guy who hurries to cut them free.

Instead of joining us, he goes to Roy, who’s wrapped his hand in a cloak.

“Brandon, we don’t have time for revenge,” I tell him.

He punches the man, then searches him. Sighing with relief when he takes something out from inside the jacket. “Overconfident as always, Roy.”

Then he joins us, slamming what he took in Helen’s hand before continuing on.

She looked at the necklace. “Mother’s…”

“Maybe next time you’re going to believe me when I say that I’m working on it.”