Thirty-four seconds after the Archangel surrendered her vigil, Sebastian entered her domain. Slipping between the weave of here and there, he arrived at a manor gate in Iris.

He did not wish to be seen. Thus, he was not. His presence slipped from the guard’s minds like a passing fancy, and he entered the estate of Esmerelda’s family unheeded.

Passing through the richly decorated halls, he mused, “Grace and Fortune. One a blessing that they need not concern themselves with the meddling of foolish Powers. The other that they might be free of the chains of destiny.”

Unburdened by the sight of the road ahead.

He knocked at the door to the lounge, interrupting the drinking within.

“What is it?” demanded Ezra, brother of the Maiden, with all the pomp of a northern Lord. “This had better be good!”

A young woman, his current favorite, opened the door. “Ezra isn’t taking visitors right now. Go away.”

“Alas, I must deliver news,” the angel apologized.

Ezra sat up from his divan, wobbling a bit with his drink, and belatedly recognized him. “Oh. You.”

Sebastian stepped into the room. Crossing to the table, he pushed aside a pile of Jungle narcotics to make room for his delivery. “Yes. The delivery in Greenport has been compromised.”

The young man jerked upright with a swear. “How?!”

“Our aldersman has reneged on his agreement. He fears the Tempest’s gaze.”

Quite reasonably.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“After all we paid him!” Rising, Ezra snapped up the papers. “The bastard should know better than to double cross me!”

“What should we do?” Sebastian inquired.

He knew, of course, but petty kings only accepted their own judgements.

“Do I have to do everything around here?!”

“You are the boss,” the angel agreed.

The architect and benefactor

The embodiment of this evil

The one who sold the temple girls – none other than Esmie’s elder brother!

An outrage and a betrayal.

One more necessary step along the road.

“Get to Greenport and burn everything!” Ezra ordered, following that most primal of criminal instinct: burn all the evidence.

“As you command,” the angel of Witness agreed.

***

Once that creep left, Ezra slumped back to the divan. His girl came over to rub his shoulders, pressing her breasts into his back.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. They’ve got nothing on you.”

“Damn right they don’t.”

Ezra smirked to himself. Every time he saw that sow of a Tempest, it was all he could do not to burst out laughing. Dumb broad ran all over the world looking for the big bad boogey man, and here he was under her nose!

His family had sold one dancing girl to put food on the table. What were a few more? Most the girls he pushed were lost causes anyways; just think what would have happened to Esmie without him!

And was it really his fault the temple was still buying? Under the table now, sure, but they were the ones demanding a product. He just followed supply and demand.

If they didn’t like it, the girls could just run away for all he cared…once he’d been paid!

It’d be a better life anyways. Just ask his snot-nosed sister.

Whiny little moocher almost ate us out of house and home

We finally found a use for her and she had to go get tangled up in some god-story!

Morons think she’s some kind of immortal because she can turn a trick!

He flipped through grudges like well-licked pages of a book, the truth burning in his gut unspoken.

Should have been me

Well, he had plans. Soon as he had a bit more cash. Soon as his contacts in the Jungle could set up a few more things.

Ezra was going places, and he’d leave that sow of a Tempest and his whiny brat of a sister in the lurch.

Just wait and see!