The morning started closer to ten o’clock. Sunlight pierced through the curtains and hit my face, shining through my closed eyelids. My body demanded another hour or two of sleep, but my mind cruelly flashed an image of vampire brains splattering in all directions.
“Bollocks!”
I was awake now, though I had no desire to get up. Problems and tasks poured into my heavy head, grinding gears of intellect into motion. My brain could have used a bit of lubrication in the form of a strong cup of tea. I should’ve bought some yesterday now I’d have to settle for chamomile tea again. And I needed to clean myself up, swing by the bank… Damn trifles. Better to deal with them now, before they rolled into a massive snowball and crushed me.
While I’d been snoring, the Sparrow brothers had already started their new duties. They lacked skill, but they certainly had enthusiasm. Knuckles was trying to sweep the floor in the hall, but his overly sharp movements had kicked up a cloud of dust. He grumbled but stubbornly kept swiping the broom.
“Good morning,” I greeted, yawning wide and stretching contentedly.
“Morning,” Knuckles muttered, fully focused on the dust.
I could’ve offered him some advice – Grandpa and I used to clean the house ourselves – but that was clearly not what the boy needed. He’d figure it out on his own. It wasn’t hard, and he’d get a taste of honest work along the way.
“Where’s Harry?” I asked.
“Locked himself in,” Knuckles said, nodding toward the door where I’d once seen the chaos of elemental forces. “Doing magic.”
“And the kid?”
“Scrubbing frying pans. There’s breakfast for you, but it’s cold now.”
“Thanks.”
Breakfast consisted of oatmeal and a couple of boiled eggs. While I ate, I watched Cap struggle with a thick layer of black soot on a pan, scrubbing it with sand. That gave me a simple idea.
“You won’t scrape that off by tomorrow. Want to make a deal?”
Cap eagerly agreed. Harry had shown them around the estate first thing in the morning, familiarizing them with their duties, and all I needed was a proper bath. Harry’s plumbing had been shut off along with the water supply, so despite the mansion’s two luxurious bathrooms, Harry himself used the servants’ bathroom because it was easier to fill and drain manually.
For his help with the bath, I gave Cap half a vial of universal solvent. A few drops cleaned the pan instantly, and the boy cheerfully moved on to a filthy pot.
After changing into a fresh shirt, I first recharged the empty stones and my Stone Skin ring. The Stone Skin bracer turned out to have a scratch right across one of the runes, making it unsafe to use anymore. I didn’t notice when it happened. The sleeves covering it were untouched, so I suppose it must have occurred when I jumped out of the window in the slums. I probably caught on some glass shards while sliding down the rope.
The mansion’s Place of Power hadn’t yet formed, but there was still enough energy lingering in the air for free use. I inspected my cash. Out of more than three thousand, I had two thousand seven hundred eighty-four left. And near a hundred at Finella’s. I split a hundred eighty into smaller bills and tucked them into various pockets. For another sixteen hundred, I made a hidden pouch out of scraps from an old torn shirt and tied it around my waist under my clothes.
The remaining thousand, along with a note asking for safekeeping, I left with Harry. After all, I wasn’t immune to being robbed either. I didn’t leave a note in my room since the boys would likely get to it while cleaning, so I handed it straight to Knuckles.
“Give this to Harry. If all goes well, I won’t be back here anytime soon.”
Knuckles nervously swallowed, staring at the wad of cash that could guarantee him and his brother at least four year of comfortable living.
“Not afraid?” he asked.
“You gave your word,” I replied, barely suppressing a laugh. It was the same kind of joke my grandfather used to make. Only now did I understand it. Clearly, the old man had about as much faith in me back then as I have in Knuckles now.
The thing is, circumstances mostly force Knuckles to act honestly. There are traps all around the mansion, and the city is no safer for them. Let him think his actions are really about keeping his word – It’ll help him get used to holding onto it. He isn’t completely rotten yet. Look how tightly he clings to his brother.
“Uh, all right, uh…” The boy’s hand was visibly trembling as he took the money and note.
I left the mansion gates with my travel bag in hand, making sure to wave it conspicuously toward the house where I knew observers were watching. Then I gave them a friendly wave and headed to the nearest taxi stand.
Surprisingly, they didn’t try to stop me, though they did set a tail on me. I noticed another cab trailing mine all the way to the Duthigh Royal Bank branch in Pubset. After depositing sixteen hundred pounds into the care of such a reputable institution, I felt much calmer.
The decently dressed older gentleman waiting for me outside the bank didn’t raise any alarms at first.
“Young sir,” he said, doffing his hat. “My name is Henry Taskwich, a representative of the law firm Queens & Co., acting on behalf of Lord Fairburn. Could I trouble you for a moment of your time?”
“It would be a sin not to spare a moment for such a polite man,” I replied. “Magnus Loxlin.” The name was becoming more natural each time I used it. “But perhaps we should choose a more pleasant setting? A tearoom or a restaurant?”
“That is exactly what I was about to suggest. Would you agree to meet Sir Augustus at the restaurant across from the bank? Queens & Co. guarantees your safety. It will be merely a conversation.”
He thinks I should be afraid. How should I play this? Should I act scared, or… No, I’ve already shown his family’s goons that I’m not.
“No need to keep Lord Fairburn waiting, Mr. Taskwich.”
“Ah… Sir Augustus is the son of Lord Fairburn.”
“Ah, my apologies for the oversight.”
I didn’t bother to watch Taskwich’s reaction too closely. Let him think I truly didn’t care.
Augustus Fairburn immediately struck me as an arrogant and vain man. A real man wouldn’t wear such thin little mustaches, let alone waste time grooming them. Augustus, however, looked as though he’d just stepped out of a barbershop. His manicured hands were adorned with expensive rings, his crisp white shirt sported oversized jeweled cufflinks, and his entire demeanor screamed that this restaurant was beneath his status.
I had half a mind to do something crude and vulgar just to spite him. But the only thing I allowed myself was to sit down before being invited to.
Taskwich had already introduced us, but the dandy continued to glare at me with a stony expression.
“My apologies, sir,” I said. “Shall we begin? I have a busy day ahead. Waiter!” I called out. “Take a seat, Mr. Taskwich.”
“Oh no, I’ll be at that table.” Taskwich smiled and gestured to a table by the wall, already occupied by two burly men in respectable suits. “Enjoy your meal, gentlemen.”
“How may I serve you, gentlemen?” the waiter chirped as he approached.
I couldn’t resist a small act of mischief. No matter how much Grandpa tried to beat the silliness out of me, some of it remained.
“Do you have haggis?” I asked, taking satisfaction in the disgusted grimace that flashed across Augustus’s face. A direct hit. Coarse, rustic food made from sheep’s stomach and liver couldn’t possibly appeal to someone like him.
“Will you have haggis, Sir Arthur?” I added.
“My apologies, gentlemen, we don’t have haggis,” the waiter replied, cutting me off.
“Tea. No milk,” Augustus blurted out quickly. “That will suffice.”
“What about blood sausage? Black pudding?” I pressed, unwilling to give up so easily.
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“Nothing of the sort!” the waiter snapped. He didn’t call me “sir” or “mister,” showing his own lack of respect. Fine, no tip for him.
“Well, if you don’t have it, you don’t have it. I’ll have tea too, no sugar. And a few rolls with butter and jam. Now, what did you want, Sir Augustus?” I asked before the waiter could leave. “I’ve rented a new house and moved out of Harry’s. What else is there to discuss?”
“Last night, you brought him two men and delivered a certain… package.”
“A package? Ha! That’s one way to put it. I brought him meat and grains. After you lot boxed the poor man in, he’d been living on nothing but potatoes.”
August blinked in surprise.
“You’re not afraid to make such claims?”
“But it’s true. I’ll say it again if I need to. You really shouldn’t push him.”
August blinked again, clearly taken aback, but I continued.
“I’m not getting involved in your squabbles anymore. And I suggest you stay out of my business as well.”
“Clearly, no one ever taught you manners, young man.”
“Our ideas about manners differ, it seems. Say what you came to say, and I’ll be on my way. I’ve got things to do.”
August ground his teeth, clenched his jaw, then placed a small box on the table.
“I want to make peace with Harry. Will you deliver this?”
“And what’s inside?” I pulled the box closer and unceremoniously opened it. “A bomb?” I asked, pulling out a steel sphere the size of a large apple, inscribed with runes and adorned with energy-storing gemstones.
“It’s just a universal energy storage sphere!” August snapped irritably.
“Sure it is. Looks exactly like a bomb. Why don’t you deliver it yourself?”
“Let’s assume I can get past the traps. He’s mad, though. Who’s to say he won’t whack me with an air hammer before I even get the chance to talk? Anyway, just tell Harry that I’ll shield him from my father if he shields us from His Worship. I’m not promising a lovefest – just peace.”
“I’m not getting involved in your mess,” I said, waving dismissively. Whether he was lying or telling the truth, lugging this thing to Harry was the height of idiocy.
“One hundred pounds,” August offered.
I needed to update my wardrobe. It was unclear who people thought I was based on my current attire. Though there were advantages to that – Fairburn clearly didn’t suspect I had an education. If this sphere was a trap, it was crucial to him that I deliver it to Harry. It would need strong idiot-proofing, so it probably wouldn’t just explode on its own. Might be worth examining.
“Three hundred,” I countered. “And I’m not taking it right away. I’ve got other places to visit first, so I’ll deliver it closer to evening.”
Fairburn laid three crisp hundred-pound notes on the table. I took them along with the box, stuffed it into my travel bag, and set off to find a place in town that served haggis. And, of course, to check if I was being tailed.
Surprisingly, there was no visible surveillance – or if there was, it was far more professional than before. Or perhaps the sphere itself was acting as a tracker.
After lunch, I found a bookstore and bought three books on runes and artifact crafting, which I remembered included information about complex, multi-layered storage devices. For an extra couple of pounds, the shopkeeper promised to tell anyone inquiring about my purchases that I’d been shopping for women’s romance novels.
With this haul, I headed to St. Paul’s Cathedral, on the border of Rapsy and the Old City, and asked for Vicar Max. He wasn’t there, so I followed the directions the priest gave me to his home. Max Hamish Wood lived on the third floor of a typical four-story red-brick building five blocks from Harry’s place.
I knocked on the door.
It was opened by a man in a rumpled pajama set, with the face of a boxer and the hands of a laborer. There wasn’t a whiff of piety about him, but the smell of cigarettes and cheap whiskey was unmistakable. His expression clearly conveyed a strong desire to tell me to go to hell.
“Mr. Wood?” I asked.
The vicar didn’t reply. Instead, he leaned toward me and loudly sniffed the air.
“Having trouble with spirits?”
“With one, yeah. But I’m here about a vampire problem.”
“Heh, now I’m curious. Come in,” the vicar said, opening the door wider.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t look like a grieving relative, boy. So, what’s got you interested in those creatures damned by God? And why come to me? I’m more of a specialist in the incorporeal. There’s no tea – I had a sleepless night – so get to the point. You can sit there.”
Wood gestured to the only chair by a round table piled high with theological books and very scientific-looking studies on lesser etherial beings. Alongside the books were an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, an empty gin bottle, and a lone glass.
“You’re a Coulier, and I happen to know one of yours.”
“Not much of a reason.”
“Fair enough, but I need information,” I said, settling into the chair and setting my travel bag down beside me.
“Planning to take a couple out?”
“Not if I can help it…”
“You said that like it’d be easy for you... Though…” The vicar leaned forward and sniffed me again. “Already did, huh? Good job! Just don’t get cocky. Taking out the older ones is much harder. How’d it happen?”
“Pardon me, what are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb. The etheric mark might mask the vampire scent, but your subtle body still reeks of its death. Spill it!”
The vicar disappeared into the next room, returning with a chair and a cigarette between his teeth. Digging through the books, he found a pack of matches, struck one, and took a deep drag with obvious relish.
“You’ve heard about the bloodsuckers running rampant in the slums?”
“They always have, but yeah, they’ve really gone wild lately. Heard the Righteous Hand is planning a raid.”
“Last night, I ran into one.”
“Don’t feed me that. If you’d just run into one, we wouldn’t be talking right now.”
“The bandits started putting kids in cages as offerings. I set up an ambush.”
“And now you’re wondering what the fallout will be?”
I nodded. The vicar exhaled a stream of smoke toward the ceiling.
“It’d be a sin not to help a man after such a godly act. I’ll cleanse your aura, but that’s all I can do. Everything else depends on how many tracks you left behind.”
“Can you tell me about the nests? Mostly about the parents.”
“Sure. We’ve got three of them – everyone knows that. Two fathers and one mother. Noah Valentine and Nina Gratch are the old ones; Lukas Lindemann is a bit younger. His predecessor got a bit too full of himself and lost his head,” the vicar grinned, “literally.
“All three of them are absolute pillars of the community, shining examples of piety. Feed the hungry, heal the sick, even donate to the church. Though not in person, of course – their arses burn just stepping onto holy ground.”
“And do they single out any humans?”
“Not sure what you mean.”
How do I ask about Simon without raising suspicion?
“Do they have humans who are especially important to them?”
“You mean as food or as servants? Because all that feeding and healing isn’t out of the goodness of their hearts. Livestock needs to be healthy. As for servants…”
“No.” Simon might be a jerk, but he wouldn’t lower himself to servitude. “I mean favorites. People who can control vampires.”
“Control them? Never heard of that. It’d ruin a parent’s reputation and stir up trouble in the nest. But yes, they do have favorites. How could they not? Nina parades a new boy around town every week. The men are more cautious – they only mess around with female bloodsuckers to avoid tearing someone apart in a moment of lust. They’re only functional after a meal, after all.”
“You said Nina brings them out. Where to?”
“Out into society. But if you’re asking for specific places – well, theaters, the opera, clubs. Most often, she’s seen at The Golden Tear. I wouldn’t recommend going there. Seriously, don’t show your face there.”
“Is it a private venue?”
“Why would it be…? It’s open – If you’re a pretty girl, a walking moneybag, or some bastard with a title. The souls of some regular patrons there carry more sin than the bloodsuckers themselves.”
Sounds like the kind of place Simon would love. I absolutely have to check it out! But not before cleansing my aura… and figuring out this sphere.
“Sir, would you mind if I used your table a bit longer?”
“For what?”
“Someone asked me to deliver this little trinket, and I’m afraid it’s not what it seems.” I pulled the box out of my bag and opened it.
The vicar didn’t stand on ceremony. He grabbed the sphere and sniffed it.
“It reeks of death. Not directly, mind you – ether, iron, and earth are the dominant elements – but underneath it all, there’s death.”
“That’s about what I expected. If I may?”
I pulled out my notebook, copied down the runic engravings, applied the ointment to my forehead, and started examining the sphere again, this time noting the hidden symbols. That gave me two formulaic chains from the sphere and one from the box. The box’s rune was just a tracking mark, easily recognizable without calculations. The first chain from the sphere took me about half an hour to decipher.
It confirmed that the sphere indeed charged empty storage units for earth, metal, and ether, but nothing more. The second chain took me another half-hour to crack. It overloaded storage units. I couldn’t see any trace of death energy, but I doubted destroying the storage units was the sphere’s ultimate purpose. With this device, you could easily conceal two or three additional layers of engravings and a few large energy reservoirs – say, made of opal. The result would be a massive destabilizing energy release. Something like this wouldn’t kill Harry, but me? Easily. What a playful little trickster that Augustus Fairburn is.
I quickly jotted down my conclusions in the notebook. So, what could I do right now? Should I deal with the Fairburns later? Either way, I’d deliver the box to Harry – they needed to see that I kept my word.
“Sir,” I said to the vicar, “this thing really does seem dangerous. Could you pass it on to Inspector Sunset at the Pubset station?”
“Do I look like a courier to you?”
Finella had mentioned he’d recharged firestones for her brother, so he likely used similar tools in his work. And with his frequent dealings with spirits, he probably relied heavily on ether. I rummaged through my supplies and pulled out a topaz filled with energy.
“Well, if it’s for a godly cause, why not help? Let’s just hope I don’t end up behind bars for too long.”
“I’ll write a note – It’ll be fine.”
In the note, I described the facts, my suspicions, and even suggested that His Worship might be quite pleased with this little device. If he gave that family a good shake, I certainly wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.