Hair? In a slightly more subdued style. Makeup? At a minimum, to the point that the average man on the street would assume she wasn’t wearing any. Suit? Well, the suit was pink, but it was Balmain.
Ursa looked the part, if she said so herself. Plus, the blazer had pockets for her flashcards.
There were butterflies in her stomach, lured there by the fire in her chest. She opened the door to Brynner’s office.
The director sat at his desk with fingers steepled, in what had to be a deliberate “I am patient but I’m also your boss” gesture. He didn’t smile when Ursa entered, but that was more because he didn’t have a mouth.
She glanced down at the top card; flicked lint from her blazer. Fidgeted.
‘Ah, Ursa,’ said the director. ‘It’s rather a bout of serendipity that you asked for this meeting today; there is a matter I need to discuss with you. Of course, it can wait until we’ve been through whatever it is you’re here to discuss.’
Ursa breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth.
‘So,’ she began. ‘Both of our recent field missions have ended up connected. The recent incident with Laniakea was directly caused by Fae interference after the Ikea stuff.’
Bryneer offered nothing. She moved to the next flashcard.
‘While it was regrettable what happened to Montparnasse – and I really wish it could have gone another way – he was trying to kill us, or kill the human bystanders at the very least. Alkahest may have gone too far, but…’ Here she paused for effect.
‘His actions have greatly benefited the Institute. We got to take the bones for Emva and Merlin to study. You didn’t lose three field agents, which if nothing else must have saved on paperwork. We saved those people. And we saved even more people beyond that, because there’s not an Ikea that eats people now.
‘So, although we all wish that Montparnasse had been dealt with differently, we have to admit that he needed to be dealt with! I understand the Summer Court being upset, but they’re not proceeding in a civil manner. It’s only been a month, and they’ve resorted not only to crime, but dangerous magic in their attempts to catch him.’
‘Ursa,’ said the director.
‘They’ve literally gone against an ally of the institute,’ Ursa went on. ‘Well, not exactly an ally, but something close to it. And please keep in mind that our investigations and subsequent silence are the only things stopping Laniakea from starting a war against Mr. Pyrite? During which your agents were seriously hurt, and–‘
‘Ursa,’ said Brynner, again. His voice was not unkind. Ursa shucked at his solicitude as if it were a bluebottle wheeling by her ear.
The director’s steepled fingers had moved to where his nose would have been. ‘Ursa, what is it you’re going to ask me?’
His tone had become near pedagogical. “I can already tell what you’re here for, so get to the point”, he didn’t say.
Ursa fumbled with her cards. ‘Um. If allowed to continue, their actions will become more erratic. They may turn to worse or more dangerous magic. Yes, Institute members are supposed to clear up that kind of mess, but is it worth putting your teams in danger? Is it worth putting Middlemarch in danger?’
Brynner was looking at her now with… what? Not concern, but. Was that pity? The clockwork man was, as ever, difficult to read.
Her fingers tightened around the flashcards, crumpling them into a papery bezoar. ‘I’m sure you have a backup plan for whatever apocalypses might come, but do you seriously intend to let it get to that over one guy?
‘Ask the Summer Court to drop it, because otherwise they’re going to burn the city to the ground. And we’re not going to be able to stop them if they go that far.’
Brynner waited for a moment, making sure she’d said everything she wanted to say. He sighed; affectation. If he’d worn glasses, he would have taken them off.
This was off the record.
‘Look, Ursa. I understand. I really, really do. But the Caliber Institute, by the very nature of its founding, must remain neutral. My own signature is on the Inside Accords. We can’t take a side on this.’
‘You wouldn’t be taking a side!’ said Ursa. She tried not to let it sound like a protest. ‘You’d be asking another side to lay off!’
‘If Infernal society were to stand behind Azoth Alkahest against the Summer Court, perhaps then we could step in to try and mediate,’ said Brynner, finally unsteepling his fingers only to fold his arms. ‘But you have to understand that it isn’t the role of the Institute to stand in the way of any faction. What we do is empower each faction to keep one another in check.’
‘So, what, we’re arms dealers playing all sides? Is that it?’
‘Ursa, that’s an argument from analogy, and one with quite a degree of bias. If you’d like to go down that road, I’d prefer to be compared to a library.’ The director stood up and went over to the window. This, too, could have been affectation, or perhaps he was caught up in zealous theatricality.
‘The Caliber Institute is a repository of knowledge and resources, freely available to all who might ask; Draconic, Angelic, Infernal, or, indeed, Seelie Fae. If a representative of Demonkind were to approach us and ask for the Fae to… drop it, as you said? We would, of course, provide what we could for their argument.
‘In much the same way, should the Summer Fae approach us and ask for assistance in tracking down their villain, we would, of course, provide. And every single one of our employees would do the same, because they too are members of the Accords. They would be compelled to do so.’
Ursa had intended to stand as well, but her legs felt suddenly marathon-tired. Was Brynner saying what it sounded like he was, in managerial glasses-off circumlocution?
‘And… have they?’ she asked, voice a cinema whisper.
‘They’re about to. Cait-Sìth has been in touch. He wants to meet later today, and I suspect he’ll be wanting every scrap of information the Institute can provide. Much of which lies with you, Ursa. I wanted to let you know in advance.’
No, no, no. Not like this.
Ursa had been to the fucking safehouse where Alkahest was holed up. She’d be compelled by whatever arcane Geasery was in her terms of employment, and she’d tell that feline inquisitor everything.
‘Director Brynner, I don’t want to sell out Alkahest.’ This time the pleading was obvious. She didn’t care. ‘He’s… I… He saved my life.’
‘Oh, Ursa,’ said the director. The proverbial glasses were still on the table. ‘I understand how you must be feeling. And to be honest, I feel responsible. Sending a green new recruit out on her first mission, only to have a Demon like that waiting for you? It was irresponsible.’
The blue bulbs of his eyes met hers, and Ursa knew he wasn’t looking at her as he spoke. He was looking at an image of her he’d constructed himself, carefully overlaid across the real thing so as to cover it completely.
‘He’s manipulating you, Ursa,’ continued Brynner. ‘I know it hurts now, and it’s going to feel wrong, but once you’re on the other side of this you’ll see it clearly. You’ll be okay; I promise.’
He’d already made up his mind, and he wouldn’t listen to a thing she said now. He probably hadn’t been so far, either. Well, Ursa wasn’t responsible for others’ misinterpretations of her. She’d learned that years ago.
Of course, an erroneous mental image could make fantastic camouflage. There wasn’t even a trick to it; the observer did all the work like a quantum scientist.
Ursa let her frustration mount and flush out through her eyes, let particle tears become waves rolling down her cheeks. She could only imagine how it’d look with the plasters and bruises as pugnacious accoutrement.
‘Ursa, I, er, it really will be quite alright!’ said Brynner, the situation rapidly spiraling away from his comfort zone.
‘No, I, I know, I know,’ blubbered Ursa. ‘I just want it all to stop! I nearly died and it’s all so much and I want it to be over.’
‘It will be after this one little meeting. You’ll just tell Cait-Sìth where Alkahest is hiding and you’ll never have to think of him again, yes?’
Ursa took a deep breath, made a show of trying to calm herself. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Can I arrange a meeting then? With Cait-Sìth?’
‘Of course!’ Brynner actually sounded relieved. ‘When would you be willing to…?’
‘As soon as possible,’ said Ursa. ‘I don’t want to lose my nerve.’
‘Of course. I can have him here within a few hours, I’d assume.’
‘Not here.’ She saw him regard her, the real her, now that she was playing along with expectations. She sniffed loudly, laying it on perhaps a bit thick. ‘Somewhere public. I’m scared, okay?’
‘Ah,’ said Brynner, reaching for his telephone. The rotary dial took some time.
‘And you have to promise you won’t send anyone to listen in,’ added Ursa.
Brynner would perhaps have raised an eyebrow, if hair were a thing he experienced.
Ursa looked embarrassed. She was good at that. ‘Look, if I’m giving every detail, there are a few things I’d rather not have the rest of the office privy to.’
‘…Ah. Say no more. You have my word that the Institute won’t intrude,’ said Brynner, proper gentleman that he was.
Ursa waited for the meeting to be clarified. It would be in two hours, meaning she didn’t have a lot of time to get everything in order. Typical.
‘There we go,’ said Brynner, putting down his phone. ‘Now, is there anything else I can do to help?’
‘Actually, there is,’ said Ursa, tears already dry. ‘You can accept my immediate resignation.’
‘…What?’
‘I quit.’
Ursa turned and left.
⁂
Beanie? Properly angled back. Moustache? Waxed. Blood? Sufficiently caffeinated, but only just. Merlin didn’t want to get all twitchy.
He pushed open the door of the studio and took in the ambience; the swirling pentagram design printed on the wood floor, the burgundy walls covered in flash and prints, the somewhat dilapidated leather couches that functioned as a waiting area.
There was an odd sense of pride in Merlin’s chest. He felt no ownership of the studio, obviously, but he’d found the place on BlinkedIn. Which meant the owners and artists working here were all in on the Outside world. Because Merlin was here for a quite particular, magical design.
His site (BlinkedIn) had allowed a user (himself) to track down a specific business (this studio) that would provide a uniquely Outside service (a tattoo with arcane properties). He’d done it (created a website that wasn’t totally redundant)!
If BlinkedIn had been around for his parents, when they’d been trying to find new work? It would have made a world of difference for them.
He suppressed his grin as a sparkly little ball of light flashed up to him, exploding and explicating into a tiny winged woman.
‘Hey, hun!’ said the Pixie. ‘You got a booking?’
‘I’m Merlin,’ said Merlin. ‘We spoke online?’
The Pixie’s face lit up, this time in a non-literal manner. ‘Oh! The BlinkedIn guy! I’m Bianca. You’re a bit early.’
‘Well, I wanted to make sure everything in the design was clear. And if any changes need to be made, I thought it’d be best to have enough time to incorporate them properly. It’s more than just ornamental, after all.’
‘Hrmm,’ said Bianca, looking him up and down from her hovering vantage. ‘Well, you’re shorter than I was expecting.’
Merlin laughed, but apparently Bianca wasn’t joking despite her own tchotchkesque stature. She went on.
‘That means I’ll need to do it smaller, so you might lose some detail compared to what we’ve talked about already.’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Merlin. ‘It needs every detail or it won’t work. Can we just have it take up more of the canvas, so to speak?’
By the time Merlin got in the chair, the design stenciled on him took up both arms and a section of his chest. As Bianca got to work – sitting on his torso rather than hovering, presumably for stability – he found himself doublechecking the formulae that he’d worked with her to incorporate.
The idea had been to make himself a bit more adaptable. As a Wizard, if he wanted to cast anything worth more than a token effort, he needed his spellbook to hand. He’d thought himself very clever, writing a grimoire emulator on his laptop and having that serve as arcane focus, but while it was wonderfully camouflaged for urban workings, he’d begun to find it a little cumbersome.
Balancing the thing in one hand was, despite its sleek and ergonomic shape, awkward when firing bolts of lightning from the other. So Merlin had begun to research alternatives.
He’d seen phones and tablets, but none of them had the required computing power for use as a spellbook. He’d looked into more traditional methods, actual tomes and scrolls, but 1: they’d probably be just as unwieldy, and 2: hey just weren’t Merlin’s style.
Despite his nickname, he just wasn’t a very traditional guy.
So he’d moved on to more out-there choices; holographic projection (rejected – it was nigh-illegible when running for one’s life), a VR headset with a simulated library (rejected – going blind in battle would probably get him killed). He’d even conceived a complex method of roasting coffee to infuse the beans with particular spells, reintroducing them to the wizard’s mind when drunk through their complex flavours and aromas. He could fashion a kind of puissant cold-brew bandolier?
This he’d rejected on grounds of “speculated gastrointestinal tragedy”.
Some unsavoury magi, he’d found, had done extensive research into… alternative bindings for their particular tomes. It seemed there were five-star reviews from all manner of liches, plague-binders and literal geisterrufers: human(oid) skin was the choice de rigueur for powerful magicking.
Merlin reasoned that there was an idea worth pursuing there, and set aside the double-touchscreen design of glass and arcane code he’d been toying with (rejected – he’d need an almost godlike power source to get that to work).
Wizards out there were binding sheets of skin into books, and using those to contain their spells. Couldn’t he just cut out the ‘book’ part? The only tricky part would be getting to be editable, like a subdermal Etch A Sketch. And then–
‘We’re done,’ said Bianca. ‘Good job holding still! It’s like you’d gone into a zen trance or something.’
Merlin blinked at her as she struggled with a roll of clingfilm. ‘Oh. I was thinking about work,’ he said.
Bianca raised her eyebrows. ‘Right. You must really love your job, then, hun.’
Merlin left with a promise to get the studio trending on BlinkedIn, and went to look for some new shirts that would show off his ink.
⁂
Hat? Normal (black). Clothes? Normal (black). Expression? Aggravated (normal).
Nora was on her way to meet an “old friend”.
Well, it was less a “friend” and more “someone that had tried to kill her more than once”, but for Nora, that was practically family.
The bell above the door rang as she entered. She’d known that he’d retired a couple of years ago, gotten out of the game, as it were. That a reasonably powerful Fiend would open a bicycle shop upon his exit from a life of crime was odd, but not entirely surprising.
He was a Chain Devil, after all.
‘Draisine?’ she asked of the hulking figure by the counter. He was at that moment spinning the front wheel of an overturned bike, muttering about ‘scraping’, but looked up at the sound of his name.
‘Nora! As I rattle and rust! How’ve you been, you bastard?’
Nora gave a quick smile. She liked Draisine. He’d always kept things fair, and even when he’d been trying to choke her to death with a length of hoisting chain, she’d gotten the feeling that he wasn’t trying to have her head come completely off.
‘Not too bad,’ she said. ‘Busy. Currently working with some new recuits.’
‘Christ, Nora, are they still trying to get you babysitting?’ said Draisine, with a chuckle. ‘You’d think that ticking old man would have learned his lesson by now.’
‘Same as ever. Brynner’s patient, you know that. Anyway, how about you?’
The Devil shrugged and gave the wheel another spin, nodding in satisfaction at his work. ‘Good, actually,’ he said. ‘Business is a little slow. The independent retailer struggles in these days of e-commerce and medias social! But I myself am good.’
He paused, and added ‘Though, your arrival usually means things are about to fly over the handlebars.’
Nora laughed this time. ‘No, no, nothing like that today. I was actually hoping you’d have some info on a couple of people.’
‘I’m not a hunter anymore, you know,’ said Draisine.
‘I know. It’s just… I’m worried about someone. I want to know more about what she’s gotten tangled up in. Who she’s gotten tangled up in.’
‘Damn, Nora. Thought you said you were the same as ever?’
Nora ignored his incredulity, instead simply pressing on. ‘Did you know a Fae named Montparnasse?’
Draisine put a hand to his chest. ‘Not personally, but yeah. Taken from us too soon, you know?’
‘I don’t, actually. Everyone keeps saying that, though. Was he really that popular?’
‘Links and rivets, seriously?’ Draisine seemed almost offended, despite his ridiculous oath. ‘Montparnasse was practically a legend if you’re into those kinds of stories. A defector from the villainous Winter Court? Charming, funny? Possibly a consort of Queen Titania herself? ‘Course he was popular.’
This time Nora was the near-offended. ‘Piss off, seriously?’
Draisine nodded. ‘Lots of rumours about the guy. Almost all of ’em good, or entertaining at least. And the thing with rumours is they’re mutable, ain’t they? Rare powers, too. He was, uh, marketable.’
Nora grunted. ‘Well, I met him and he was a piece of shit. Don’t believe the hype.’ She moved onto her next query. ‘What about a Demon named Alkahest?’
The Chain Devil practically rolled his eyes. ‘Which one?’
‘Er… I think his first name was “Azoth”? I looked him up on the Institute’s books and there’s fuck all apart from him trying to assassinate Margaret Thatcher once.’
‘Oh, him.’ Draisine’s eyes dawdled mid-roll. ‘Opinions on him are what you might call “divisive”. Lotta Infernal folks hate him ’cause he’s trying to bring down the way we’ve run things for millennia. Then, a lotta Infernal folks love him for the exact same thing.’
‘What about you?’
‘I say “fuck that guy”. He’s a fuckin’ Marxist. Bet if he had his way he’d give away all my stock here for free… uh, but the Summer Court hate his guts especially because of deals he’s made with the Winter Court. They say Queen Mab herself owes him a favour or two.’
‘I wonder if that’s why Montparnasse was sent to keep him in check, then?’ Nora thought aloud. ‘Not that it worked.’
‘Is it really him that murdered Titania’s golden boy then? Shit, Nora, if you’ve got a friend mixed up in all that, you might want to ditch her.’ Draisine seemed to consider for a moment. ‘Mind you, killing a guy like Montparnasse is really more the other Alkahest’s style.’
This was getting out of hand, now. ‘There are two of them?’
‘Mhmm. The sister’s name is Panacea. She’s anti-monarchy, same as him, but she’s actually got ambition instead of the socialist bull he spouts. That, I understand. Anyway, Nora… you wanna buy a bike?’
⁂
Ursa had finished her work. She sat on a bench in a public park, solemnly tapping away at her phone.
Hey Mama, Tata, I’m having to do some stuff at work so I’ll be out of contact for a bit! Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything when I get back! Love you! ❤️️
She pressed send with the sort of stoicism reserved for generals consigning men to death. She’d been lying-by-omission to her parents for a while now, so this was only a step beyond that, right?
Hey Emva, I’m having to leave the institute, I just wanted to say I’m really glad we became friends and I’ll miss you and your baking.
Send. Next, Ursa swiped over to Merlin, and took a second to think.
Hey Merlin, some stuff’s cropped up so I’ve had to quit and I’m gonna be MIA for a bit. Don’t worry about the site and stuff. Thank you so much for being my friend. Play nice with Nora, k? 😉
Should there be more to it than that? No, she shouldn’t overthink it, or she’d never press send. (Merlin fished his phone from his pocket as he waited for the lady at the charity shop till to scan the shirts he’d picked. Seeing the message, he left the shop mid-purchase, and was already tracking the message’s location of origin by the time) Ursa moved onto Nora. She stopped and started a few times.
Hi Nora, just wanted to let you know that I quit ✌ Nothing to do with you don’t worry, just some stuff’s cropped up. I know we didn’t super get along but I do still think you’re cool, you just have like, major teamwork issues. I hope whoever replaces me, you give them a chance to be your friend, and I’m just sorry I wasn’t around long enough to get to do that myself.
Eventually, she nodded. It wasn’t quite everything she wanted to say, but it was enough. (Nora’s watch informed her of the message. She read it three times over. ‘Draisine, I gotta go,’ she said, backing from their conversation. What the hell had Ursa done? It had to be something major, with the finality of her message. She leapt onto her bike and gunned it, while) Ursa just had one final message left to send.
Alkahest’s picture in her contacts was a Belted Galloway cow. She almost chuckled at her own naïveté.
Hey, I pulled my string. It didn’t work. Long story short everything’s unraveled and not good. I know I just gave you that amulet but please, please lie low for a bit. They’re more on your heels than I’d realised.
I’ve got one last thing I can try. I can’t tell you what it is because I know you’d tell me not to do it. But I also know you’d do the same for me if our positions were reversed, so… yeah. I’m gonna be gone for a little bit.
(Absolutely gutted I won’t get chance to eat all those chocolates haha. The fact that you sent them, the fact you feel maybe the same as I do? Fucking wild. Blows my mind to think about. I never thought I’d fall so hard for someone, anyone??, let alone that they’d be as cool as you, LET ALONE you’d even like me back???? What the fuck, right?)
So um, yeah. You’re gonna worry – I know you will, and its gonna suck, so I’m so, so sorry for that but please trust me. I promise you I will sort all this shit out. I hope this is making sense. I don’t have much time, and it’s kinda starting to sound like a goodbye and I really don’t want that, because I am gonna work so fucking hard to get all this dealt with and sorted and you won’t have to worry. And then I’m coming back for you. Just hold on a tiny bit longer. ❤️️
(Alkahest watched as the messages scrolled up his phone screen. He’d gone very pale. ‘She wouldn’t,’ he mouthed.)
There was a presence next to her on the bench, patiently waiting for to finish what she was doing. A cat, all black for with a white spot on the chest. It watched her switch off her phone, and spoke. A burr, as opposed to a purr.
‘Hullo,’ it said. ‘I’m told you wanted to meet.’
‘Hi, Cait-Sìth. Are you, uh, doing ok?’
‘I have had better days in m’ life,’ said the cat. ‘I spent fucking hours submitting paperwork to your fucking Institute, only to be told that the one flirtin’ with our culprit quit that very morning.’
‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’ said Ursa. Suddenly, she just felt tired. Resigned.
‘Aye. That doesnae mean I didnae waste my time. Makes it worse, if you think.’
‘Well, let me make things easier. See, your culprit? It’s me.’
Cait-Sìth’s ears went flat. ‘You what?’
‘Yeah. I’m coming clean. It was me that killed Montparnasse.’
‘Fuck off, Ursa, your bum’s out the window. Why the fuck would you just hand yourself in now?’
Ursa wasn’t sure that was a real idiom, but she ignored it. ‘You were closing in on Alkahest. Turns out guilt is harder to stomach than I thought.’
‘And what are you feelin’ guilty for? The man’s head was bitten off, dinnae try tellin’ me you can get your mouth that wide.’
‘You sound incredulous,’ said Ursa. He wasn’t buying it. She had to change tact.
The thing about Fae – particularly those from further Outside – was that, as beings so close to Chaos, there was little by way of “natural laws” or “physics” that would keep them consistently real. Instead, to stave off devolution into a tangled mass of fractals, a Fae would define itself through a personal narrative.
Cait-Sìth had, despite his fur and whiskers, taken on the role of the pursuant lawbringer; a role with such luminaries as Inspector Javert and The Scarlet Pimpernel‘s Chauvelin. Cait-Sìth would stop at nothing to get his charge, locked in dogged chase despite his feline mien.
Ursa let her shoulders sag. ‘You already said you’d found traces of enchantment there. And I’d already stupidly admitted to that.’
‘Aye,’ said the cat. ‘You held Montparnasse in place, but Alkahest was the one who–‘
‘Wrong,’ said Ursa. ‘I’d charmed Alkahest. Dominated him, technically. The man’s got a lot going for him, but his brain is like a wet cake. He’s not a culprit, he’s a weapon; a weapon I used.’
Cait-Sìth’s back was up, now. Ursa thought she could hear engines getting closer.
‘What’s your fuckin’ game, Ursa? Why are you talking? I dinnae believe you just decided to come clean for no reason.’
‘You were closing in via the Institute,’ she said, hoping he’d buy it. ‘I wanted to do this on my own terms.’
Suddenly, there were shouts from either side of them, people diving for cover and hurling abuse as a motorbike and an electric scooter barreled into the park.
Ursa’s jaw hit the mantle. Apparently, Merlin had shared his notes with Nora, and the two of them had dropped everything to come for her.
But Cait-Sìth was upon her, claws digging into her legs. ‘I see your fuckin’ scheme! But oh, no, you ain’t gettin’ away, not now. You are nicked!’
The cat’s green portal opened, and the last thing Ursa saw as she tumbled through were her friends trying to save her.
⁂
‘Fuck!’
Nora let her bike crash to the ground, leaping from it to the now-empty bench. She booted the spot where Cait-Sìth had been.
Merlin, on his electric scooter, had gotten there a few seconds after Nora, and watched the warlock compose herself. She dropped into her hyper-competent work persona.
‘Right. So Ursa has decided to be an idiot martyr and sacrificed herself for the Demon. Who I couldn’t find and drag down here, because of some kind of warding keeping us out. So where to now?’
It didn’t seem like she was asking Merlin, more just thinking aloud. But Merlin still piped up, as one with a pathological inability to let questions go unanswered.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘There’s always that other Demon? We at least know where they live.’
‘Right. Strych is clearly able to contact Alkahest somehow. We’ll just have to convince them.’
Merlin’s voice was very cold; uncharacteristically so. ‘We’re going to get her back.’
‘You don’t have to reassure me, Merlin.’
‘I’m not. I’m just stating a fact.’
⁂
Alkahest closed the door to Strych’s house behind him and stepped onto the gravel. His swords were on his belt, his sawn-off shotgun concealed in his jacket. He’d helped himself to a couple of grenades from the box Strych kept in the basement, too.
He was going to get Ursa back, if he had to cut through or gun down every single Fae in the Summer Court.
Two figures were marching up the driveway. One was much shorter than the other, and they walked with purpose.
‘Is that–‘ Alakahest began, but was cut off as the arcing Witch Bolt crashed into him.
Merlin was near-berserk with incandescent fury, and Alkahest was a lightning rod. The Gnome held the Witch Bolt steady with murder in his gritted teeth.
‘Fuck! What the hell are you–‘ Alkahest tried again, but this time Nora sprinted up and twisted his arm into an agonizing lock.
‘Drop,’ she whispered.
The Demon growled and spun, throwing her from him but skidding to his knees under the arcane fulmination. Merlin’s new tattoos were already proving their worth, as without his laptop the Wizard put both hands forward to fully reduce his target to a stain on the drive.
By then, Alkahest had moved forwards to swipe at Merlin with a shadowy claw, but he was forced back by the lightning. Merlin hadn’t even blinked yet.
It was Nora that managed to deescalate. ‘Merlin. Merlin! What are you going to do if you kill him! We need to drag him to the Court to take the blame; we can’t do that if he’s dead!’
‘It’s his fault,’ said Merlin.
‘So let’s punish him and get Ursa back!’ shouted Nora.
Merlin, finally, closed his eyes. He ripped the Witch Bolt upwards, smashing the old Victorian chimney, stamping up to the kneeling Demon as masonry showered down around them both.
The slap rung out in the sudden quiet.
‘It’s his fault!‘ said Merlin again, hand still raised. ‘This only happened because she’s infatuated with him!’
Alkahest glared up at him, blood and shadow-stuff trickling from his nose. ‘You think she’s the only one with feelings?!’
Nora, watching from a few feet away, blanched. ‘Oh my god,’ she said. ‘I thought you were just… using her. But you’re serious, aren’t you? For fuck’s sake. Do you know how much that complicates things?’
Alkahest had the decency to look away. ‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘If you’re here, then that must mean…’
‘She’s gone,’ said Merlin, flatly. ‘Cait-Sìth took her.’
Nora explained why they’d come, though she omitted the part about Alkahest being a bargaining chip. That ship had probably sailed by now, anyway.
‘Okay,’ said Alkahest, dragging himself forwards. ‘If she’s gone to the Summer Court they’ll be holding a trial. They’re the good guys, after all,’ he added, sourly.
‘If anything happens to her, I will wipe your Demonic face off the surface of this world,’ said Merlin.
‘Get in line. Look, we need to get after her. They’ll probably be holding it on Montparnasse’s home world, you know, for drama – can we find out where that was?’
‘We did have a little card with it on, but…’ began Nora.
‘…But I gave his wallet back to Cait-Sìth,’ finished Merlin. ‘But he had a sister, didn’t he. We can find out from her.’
So it was that the three of them – blood-spattered Demon, furious Gnome, and addled warlock – ended up on a bench just outside Open Sky Capital. They’d decided there wasn’t time to go in and bluff their way to answers, instead electing to have Merlin ride the Wi-Fi to the company’s employee records.
Well, former-employee records.
‘How do we even get to whatever world it’ll be?’ asked Nora, watching Alkahest’s pacing.
‘There’s a portal just on the edge of town,’ said the Demon. ‘We can get to any world from there. It might just take some time.’
‘And how much time will we have?’
‘Don’t know.’
Nora was about to press him, but a call from behind her interrupted. ‘Oh, what the hell,’ she muttered.
Her sister, Ella, was waving at her.
‘Ella!’ said Nora, heading to her sister and trying to stand between her and her other companions. ‘What… are you doing here?’
‘Oh well!’ said Ella, in apparently stellar spirits. ‘You know how it’s been at work recently? And I’ve been looking for, uh, other options? Well, I’ve been headhunted by this place here!’
She jabbed a thumb towards Open Sky Capital.
‘It’s a big pay rise,’ she continued. ‘I’d be the PA for the CEO herself! Triple what I’m on now!’
Nora took a moment to come up with a nuanced, persuasive reason for her sister to give Open Sky, and its Draconic CEO, a wide berth.
‘Don’t,’ she said, lamely. ‘I’ve, uh, come across the owner of that place, and she’d treat you like shit if you mess up. You know?’
‘Aw, Nora,’ said her sister, mood uninumbrated. ‘You know I never mess up. Anyway, I only paid for two hours parking so I’ve gotta go! We’ll catch up later!’
Nora cursed beneath her breath, and moved back to the others. ‘Any luck?’ she asked.
Merlin held up a wait-a-second finger, then said, ‘London, UK, Earth#C0027.’
Alkahest nodded, filled with adrenaline. ‘That’s not too far. Let’s go.’
‘Wait,’ said Nora. ‘Merlin, before you log out… can you have a look at who’s in Laniakea’s HR team? Or recruitment? I’ll get you a coffee.’
Merlin gave her a quizzical look, but began to type out a search. ‘Looks like HR is basically nonexistant. Recruitment is all through Laniakea herself.’
Nora swore again. ‘Thought as much,’ she said.
‘Hey, can we get a fucking move on?’ said Alkahest. ‘We need to–‘
‘Actually, we’re going to grab some coffee first,’ said Nora. She said it with such a brusque finality that they’d sat down in the nearest café before the Demon even responded.
‘We’re losing time,’ he said.
‘I know. But we need to get our breath back, you and Merlin both.’
Nora had genuinely wanted to take a second for recovery. That, and she was aware Merlin had put a lot of work in for their current course of action, and she wanted to keep things going smoothly.
Give them a chance to be your friend, Ursa had said.
Nora clenched her teeth. The wire in her chest had begun to thrum, faintly.
Merlin was sipping at his flat white and glaring holes through Alkahest.
Alkahest hadn’t noticed. He was fidgeting, thumbing at his phone. Reading through all his texts from Ursa.
⁂
In a cage on a world not her own, Ursa wondered about her friends as a courtroom was assembled all around her. She hoped they weren’t mad. She also hoped they weren’t just fine with it, even if she suspected that might be the case.
It’s fine. Ride this out.
She watched as benches and podiums were erected, turning at a deep, sonorous clanging behind her.
A group of Fae were carrying in a massive, ornate bell. Ursa couldn’t help but remember the prophecy from Morta, below the Caliber Institute.
Your life comes to an end almost as loud as the crack in the bell.
But, she’d quit. Surely the prophecy no longer applied?
‘H-hey!’ she called to a passing attendant, who looked at her with mild derision. ‘Whats the big bell for?’
‘It is struck when a verdict has been decided.’
‘Oh,’ said Ursa. Her mouth was suddenly quite dry. ‘Maybe this wasn’t a very good plan after all.’
Roll History 