Nethermore: A Necessary Evil

By J.M. Chambers

Before everything she knew went to hell, Nasmé was lauded as a hero, for few devils have made so great a contribution to the subjugation of nearly every species on Erebus as she. Centuries later, they're once again singing, "All hail the Angel Tamer, darling of the daemonic nation." It's the celebration to end all celebrations, yet no one wants her there any more than she wants to be. But she isn't given much choice; refusing an heir of darkness isn't an option for those who wish to remain amon

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781644248096

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Nethermore

A Necessary Evil

J.M. Chambers

Copyright © 2019 J.M. Chambers

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2019

ISBN 978-1-64424-808-9 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64424-809-6 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

And the light shone in the darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

—The Holy Bible

Chapter One

Isuppose you could call it a sign of the times. It wasn’t so long ago that a commoner would’ve been beaten near unto death for seating himself at a Prinsian’s table unbidden. However, as we were not in Dine Prinsa, I saw no harm in letting him stay—especially after he’d offered to pay for whatever I wished. The poor fool, he had no idea how much such an offer would cost him. In truth, I rarely turned away such offers there—or anywhere, for that matter. I had no need to.

Unlike nearly everyone I meet, I sensed only his desire to bed me. I would’ve said he was charming, but when I could sense no end to his complimenting my beauty, I began rolling my eyes—a borrowed human gesture, rendered completely ineffective by the complete lack of white in them. Nevertheless, I found myself smiling as if I were unaccustomed to such attention.

"I can’t be that bad, he said after challenging me to a drink more than he could, if that smile’s any indication."

I tend to smile a great deal, I replied, accepting his challenge with a nod. It usually isn’t an indication of anything good.

Ale flowed in abundance. And with ever-diminishing eloquence, my companion regaled me with stories of intrigue within the southern kingdoms whilst I remained unwaveringly tight-lipped about my travels in the north. He expected nothing less, it seemed.

By the time our twelfth round of drinks arrived, I was just beginning to feel the effects of the first. Our original barmaid had gone for the night, and we were being served by another lissome serpent girl who’d been staring at me since her shift began. Hers was a seldom-seen but pleasant face that took on a far more seductive quality the instant she bore her fangs at me. She then mouthed a most appealing invitation before slinking off toward her other patrons, her jewelesque eyes watching me even as she tended to their needs. Alas, it was an assignation I felt loath to ignore, though it was doubtful she’d spend the night alone. In that crowded room, beset with roaring flames in each of its four hearths, her sparkling bronze scales were all the clothing she required—a fashion statement that hadn’t gone unnoticed by anyone.

She seems quite taken with you, belched my drunken tablemate. Now, I believe this makes twelve.

Eleven, I corrected. You drank only ten. And with this . . . you’ve fallen even further behind.

He watched in silence as I drained another flagon of ale. Ah come now, he slurred. Show a bit of mercy, for Hades’s sake. It isn’t every night a sailor gets to tell his shipmates that he drank the infamous Black Comtesse under the table.

A distinction you’ll need to earn, I scoffed. Now, bottoms up, sailor.

With an exaggerated grunt of disapproval, he obliged.

As we drank our way into the next hour, my tablemate required constant reminders about the number of flagons we finished. And though he never got ahead of me, I had to admire his tenacity, as well as his bravery.

I had grown accustomed to losing my drinking companions whenever they learned my identity; most chose to walk away for fear that they’d be poisoned by someone who intended to murder me. I couldn’t blame them. It’s happened often enough to warrant such behavior. But if the seafarer felt even the slightest trepidation about keeping my company, he never let on. I liked him immensely for it.

He’d said his name was Grace, a somewhat lofty moniker for a common sailor, but one more in keeping with his manners than any highborn lord I’d ever met. And by the time he stumbled off to other affairs, I was sorry to see him go. However, his timing couldn’t have been more favorable.

The vibrating chronometer hidden beneath my bracer told me that the hour to meet with my client had come and gone. Though others in the netherworld relied upon the tolling of bells to keep time, I seldom found myself without the marvels of human technology to do so. It was through such innovations that I sought to obtain what I desired most. And obtaining what I desired most required that I occasionally step from the shadows into the sunlit world of men—a most unlawful act on my part. Nevertheless, having completed my mission on Earth, I returned to Erebus, and the powers-that-be were none the wiser.

To cross the Veil between worlds, one either had to be naturally adept at locating the ever-shifting rifts that lay within it or powerful enough to create new ones. I fell in among the former and often found myself contracted by the latter. However, funneling objects from one world to the next was risky, even under the best of circumstances. It required a great deal of skill—skill I had yet to master.

Considered a novice star drifter, even after centuries of drifting between the stars, I was barely able to transport my own clothes through the Veil—let alone my prized wristwatch. Youth, it seemed, had its limitations. But I’d have been damned indeed if I were to let a little thing like inexperience keep me from achieving my goals.

Not to place too fine a point on a rather trite axiom, but it truly is necessary—though extremely humbling—to recognize one’s limitations. Recognition of my own had given rise to the desire to supplement my gift for ending lives with a more . . . diverse set of skills.

It might’ve appeared to some that I’d already been given everything I would ever need to thrive amongst the denizens of my world, but when that world suddenly changed for the worse, I needed to adapt.

After the fall of my lord’s empire, survival within the shadows had become a constant struggle to exploit the weaknesses of stronger enemies. Fortunately, I found ways to smuggle, duplicate, and in many cases, create my own innovations—innovations that have often spelled the difference between being a predator and becoming someone’s prey.

Within the eternal gloom of my moonlit homeland exists an unending demand for every possible advantage one can acquire. And thus I provided, for a fee. It was the new path I had chosen for myself since the Great Fall. Difficult? Perhaps. But it was my choice and no one else’s.

On that night—the night humanity learned the consequences of harming those embraced by darkness—my client was running well behind schedule, a dangerous thing in my profession. It was unlike this particular client to be tardy, which doubtlessly meant he’d met with something I preferred to avoid.

Creatures in my line of work abide by a strict code of conduct in such situations: never wait. That night, however, I’d given myself every conceivable pretext for breaking that rule. At the time, I had no idea why I would do such a thing, but neither did I care.

I suppose, at that time, it was my familiarity with that particular establishment, coupled with a complete lack of foreboding that ultimately convinced me to stay. I told myself I could afford to lower my guard, if only for an hour or two. After all, I was seated in the Cudgels Reprieve. Known as the Cudgel to its regular patrons, it was an upscale tavern I patronized infrequently enough to avoid predictability in the eyes of my many enemies. It helped that the owner and I were once on intimate terms. She made sure my drinks were free of venom and alerted me if they were not. Not that it would’ve mattered if someone had slipped something into my wine. However, it behooved me to keep others ignorant of my abilities. Or so I believed.

Anyhow, there I was, carousing with passing strangers as if exposure to danger meant nothing to me. I should’ve been positioning myself between the kitchen and the privy, thus giving myself multiple escape routes should anything untoward occur. I did not. I should’ve ensured that my twin daggers, Lyf and Daeth, still rested securely within their sheaths. Alas, I did not. My every rule for survival had been given a reason to be broken, and I accepted them all.

As the hour grew late, I found myself trifling with a dapper-looking daemon couple seated at the bar. They seemed very interested in joining me. Since I felt no compulsion to remain seated alone, I waved them over. Before long, I was immersed in a conversation I couldn’t follow, finishing a drink I hadn’t requested, and watching a hand run up my thigh.

Venith and Regaldo were in the market for a bit of risqué and proving every bit the novices at acquiring it. They were slow starters by my standards, but I was in no hurry; I had all but forgotten my purpose for being there. My usual reticence amidst strangers had fallen to utter compliance, and yet, I didn’t care.

Returning from the wine cellar, another bare-scaled serpent girl flashed a pouty look and began murmuring something about my popularity as she delivered three glasses of very sweet Beaujolais—a favorite of mine—kept on hand to ensure my continued patronage. We drained our goblets and several more while our very public dalliance progressed.

Their slow start notwithstanding, both husband and wife showed promise as a pair of playthings, a notion I was none too shy about expressing when I insisted that they unburden themselves, then and there. Heedless of their surroundings, they did as I bid them to. As was often the case whenever someone pleasured another upon a tabletop, this rather boisterous display inspired many such spectacles around the room. Failing to see the strangeness in my own actions, however, I found myself purring about collecting a commission as Venith undid the laces of her husband’s breeches.

At some point during that mass unburdening, the buttons of my blouse managed to come undone, and breathless kisses ran from my neck to my bosom and back again. However, owing to an irreverent lust for humiliating the upper classes, my enjoyment began in earnest when my highborn companions’ enjoyment came to an end.

The lovely creature salivating on my neck was interrupted by the sound of her husband choking down a mouthful of wine. Apparently, the debonair young lord hadn’t bothered to put a name to his latest conquest before attempting to bed her. For this very reason, it was always prudent to kiss a daemoness’s palms upon meeting one. Not that my palms bore any markings of nobility. Nevertheless, much to his chagrin, he’d just discovered the silver chain wrapped about my waist. His reaction was well worth the intrusion.

Are you all right? I inquired, feigning concern. You look as though you’ve seen a Geist.

The blanched lothario stammered as he gently pulled my skirt over my thighs. Perfectly all right, mistress. I . . . I just remembered that we had a prior theater engagement.

Taking her husband’s lead, Venith’s golden eyes radiated dismay as she furtively sought a clearer view of my hands. Upon doing so, she immediately began to fasten the buttons on my blouse. Our sincerest apologies, she gushed, standing bare-assed and flustered. My husband can be somewhat of a dullard at times.

I couldn’t help smiling as I imagined that being the first time she’d ever done anything but sing her husband’s praises. Pity, I griped with an exaggerated pout. We were having such a wonderful evening . . . We all were.

Limited engagement, said he.

You understand, said she.

Of a certainty, I assured. Why not give me the name of the theater house? Perhaps I’ll meet you both anon.

Rattling off a litany of incoherent babble, the half-naked couple tossed a few coins to a passing barmaid, bid their adieus, and shivered likes abandoned puppies before rushing outdoors.

Anyone lose their pantaloons? someone shouted, holding the frilly breeches aloft. A moment later, patrons who weren’t immersed in their own lust-fueled trysts joined me in a round of devilish laughter.

That was considerably less reckless than usual, observed the copper-scaled daemoness kneeling beside my chair. Although, those two aren’t exactly nobodies. You may want to consider being a tad more discerning about your playthings.

Couldn’t resist a bit of sport, I replied, waving over another barmaid. Figured you’d come to join me, Levlin.

You’re incorrigible, she scoffed. We were nearly shot last time.

It isn’t sport without peril.

How could I forget? She sighed, twirling a finger through my hair. By the way, lover, the drinks are on me tonight.

Most generous, I replied, dangling a coin purse between us. But I’m afraid Regaldo beat you to it.

Plundered them as well. She chuckled before plucking the purse from my fingers. I swear, you’ve enough riches to buy every drop of ale on Erebus, but you’d rather pilfer every mouthful . . . Will you never tire of it?

"I should hope not. Where’s the sport in buying what I want?"

Always the deviant. Anyhow, the regulars seemed to enjoy your little . . . exhibition. It’s whet a lot of appetites and loosened more than a few purse strings. I’ll hold on to this for you. Consider your next few visits paid in advance. Come to think of it, what are we celebrating tonight? Did another monarch mysteriously throw himself from the ramparts?

Whatever do you mean? I’m simply seeking a night’s distraction.

Well then, she said, standing tall. Should you fancy a somewhat less hazardous distraction . . .

I know where to look.

Blowing a kiss over her shoulder, the exhibitionist-turned-proprietor disappeared amidst a growing crowd of partially clothed revelers. Shortly thereafter, a barmaid arrived bearing another bottle of my favored wine—and the hostess’s compliments: a very deep and very passionate kiss.

Matters had only ever boiled down to sex, mischief, and the occasional gunfight when it came to Levlin and her ilk. As exhilarating as those encounters were, however, she’d always wanted more. And though she knew never to require it of me, her increasingly possessive manner began to severely curtail the enjoyment of wandering in every so often. I imagine it was why I began wandering in less and less often. Ultimately, she began taking other lovers to her bed. But we remained cordial. I suppose it suited me to see her enjoying herself again, though she still tended to wear her feelings on her sleeve.

Despite our shared history, and her ability to handle herself in a skirmish, Levlin absolutely hated it whenever I used her establishment to conduct business. Which was why I never told her when I did. Nevertheless, she was bound to become suspicious, for I’d been there far longer than I ever had. But what else could I do? My payment had yet to be delivered. Normally, that was more than enough reason for me to be anywhere else. Yet I continued to tell myself that there was nothing I could do. It wasn’t as though I could rescind my services; they were called final solutions for good reason.

The thought that I’d been double-crossed did cross my mind. Daemonic nobility were always attempting to renege on their contractual obligations. This was to be expected, of course. It was merely part of the games we played to suit our nature. And as nature would have it, sometimes those who could afford the type of services I provided preferred to cut loose ends once an assignment was carried out. Fortunately, those seeking to have me killed were usually unable to find anyone capable of besting me at a price they’d be willing to pay. In the end, most realized it was a lot less costly to simply pay me and move on without attracting my displeasure.

I should have been very displeased that night. I should’ve been furious with my privileged twit of a client for keeping me waiting. And yet I found myself calmly reasoning with the notion of putting the issue of payment to rest. Considering that this particular payment meant everything to me, it could be said that I was definitely not in my right mind.

Prior to the fall of my lord’s empire, the life I led ensured I’d have little need of lucre. However, my current vocation demanded a compensation far more valuable than coin. My payment for breaking Seraphim law? Blood. For nothing less than blood could grant me the ability to go where I pleased, when I pleased, for as long as it pleased me. Not that I didn’t find the act of shedding blood pleasurable; I did indeed. Still, after centuries of shedding it for the sake of others, I decided I’d try my hand as a freelancer, one who could operate outside the Veil, permanently.

So I sought to create a curse capable of keeping my ethereal chains at bay, an incantation powerful enough to counteract a daemon’s overwhelming urge to return to darkness—to Erebus. In my strivings to free myself of that accursed land, I’d managed to weaken the link that bound me to it. But that only proved to be a temporary measure, one that merely whet my appetite for greater freedom. In time, I became driven, searching out stronger sorcerers who in turn required I bring them stronger components to complete the curse. As far as I knew, there was no more potent component on my world than the blood of an enlightened being—angel, if you’d prefer. And therein lay my dilemma.

Despite what many believed, I had no dealings with angels—or demons, for that matter. Nevertheless, it was my client who served as an intermediary for acquiring the specimens I required. Without his assistance, I would’ve had to take what I needed by force. And I was fairly certain the outcome of such a venture would’ve been less than desirable. Wanted or no, my title ensured that any action I took against the Divine Nation would have severe repercussions for the newly established daemonic regime, the newly founded Senate, and the recently rebuilt Republic of Shaden. In other words, the chance to make new enemies abounded.

That too became just another reason I remained where I was that night, flooding my body with spirits, flirting with strangers—and the idea of being free. In many ways, I suppose I was celebrating my emancipation. Eventually, I nodded off.

I’d been dozing with a glass in my hand when its contents came streaming down betwixt my breasts. Grumbling about why I never wore white, I opened my eyes. Perspiring merrymakers undulated a mere hands breadth from me, jostling the table as they danced. Strangely, I’d noticed nothing until my wine spilled. The air teemed with excited passions, but not a single dark one did I sense in the entire tavern. I thought, surely someone within this noisy establishment harbored a measure of ill will toward the drunken noble in their midst. The dancers answered that thought with raised glasses and open arms.

Not since the years before my baptism had my mind been so blessedly free of the crushing animus that accompanied the presence of other living beings. Considering it was how I survived, the glaring absence of that weight should’ve troubled me immensely; I imagine it did, on some level, but I was far too preoccupied with the sounds of revelry and the music that drove them to care.

* * * * *

Lady Never Fade!

I sighed as my lovely dance partners backed away. They were highborn daemons, but both held greater potential than my previous prospects. Thus, I had no intention of spurning them. And as they not so casually distanced themselves from me, I turned to confront the newcomer who then attempted to address me by my title, once more.

The tip of my hairpin knife pricked the newcomer’s throat, cutting her short. Oddly, there was something about the look in the creature’s eyes that told me she might’ve enjoyed the sensation. Nevertheless, there I stood menacing nothing more than a child. An image I felt certain did wonders for my reputation.

Forcing my way through the throng of partygoers, I spilled onto my seat and found the child standing beside me. She was what we Netherworlders referred to as a Madison—a living doll, to be precise—and a finely crafted one at that.

Lady Never Fade? she repeated.

I prefer not to be approached in such a manner, I admonished, replacing my hairpin. Such things have led to some rather nasty misunderstandings. As you can now attest.

"You are Lady Never Fade, are you not?"

Sapling, I slurred, it’s obvious you know who I am. Kudos for you.

The doll glared as though she were trying to determine whether or not she’d made an error in judgment. Her heavy sigh suggested she had. What’s more, I could’ve sworn she’d rolled her eyes at me; I would’ve wagered she had, if they were not as black as my own. This—whatever this was—was apparently beneath her.

Her porcelain skin, perfect teeth, and glossy white curls stood a striking contrast to the bawdy surroundings of the tavern. In fact, everything from the child’s pristine white gown, silver jewelry, and crimson ribbons practically screamed property of an aristocrat—although, to be fair, I’d never seen a living doll that wasn’t. Madisons were as unusual a species as one could find in the netherworld and, as I’d come to understand, quite costly to maintain.

Expensive mage-craft you’re using, I said, figuring she’d been following me. There aren’t many who can shadow me without it.

The child scoffed. I can assure you, I needed no magic to find you, my lady . . . It’s quite obvious you’ve grown careless.

I gasped. Careless are the pampered fops who let you wander off, child. Now, be gone before the ransom I demand for your return bankrupts them.

My attempt to shoo the child away earned a smile that neither matched the urgency in her eyes nor the way she kept glancing over her shoulder. I supposed she was trying to make nice with me. For what purpose, I hadn’t the foggiest idea. But this certainly appeared to be the case as she persisted until I finally agreed to hear her out.

We’ve little time, she cautioned, refusing to sit beside me. How feel you, mistress?

I’m fine, I replied, for lack of anything better to say. Though I find it unusual that I should divulge such a thing to a child . . . an odd child . . . a blurry child . . . an odd, blurry child.

Sighing once more, the silk-clad stranger placed her hand on my brow. Swatting it away, I then shrank from her. I understand your reticence, she assured, glaring at her reddening skin. But we’ve no time for proper introductions. I fear you’ve been poisoned, my lady. We must leave, immediately.

I knew her words were of the utmost gravity, but somehow I’d become increasingly less interested in them. I was, however, beginning to gain an interest in the child’s company—so much so I called for another round of drinks and asked that she join me.

Murmuring about forgiveness and propriety, the child pushed against the glass I held to her lips—just before striking me across the face. Swearing in an ancient tongue, I sat back and shielded my nose as my eyes began to tear up. Strangely, I was only mildly annoyed that I had yet to strike her in return.

I’m not the only one who knows you’re here, she huffed with a look of satisfaction. Now, come along!

Needless to say, I refused.

She’d begun pulling at my skirt and grumbling about the indignities of life when I snatched it from her grasp and pushed her to the floor. The doll didn’t so much as bat an eye as she leered up at me in disbelief. I imagine such a thing had never happened to her before.

It’s a night of firsts for us both! I exclaimed triumphantly.

Someone’s trying to prevent you from doing something, she warned, regaining her feet in a single fluid motion.

You’ll fetch a fortune yet, I threatened. Even without your hands attached.

Producing a kerchief from either hand, she proffered one and dusted her gown with the other. Or perhaps you’ve done something someone did not appreciate, she continued.

Everything I do can be described thusly, I grumbled before snatching the kerchief and dabbing my nose with it. Why the hell am I bleeding?

I pray you take heed, my lady. Lest more blood be spilled.

Now we’re talking. I snickered.

I would prefer not having to persuade her ladyship further . . .

After considering the amount of humiliation such a scene would cause, I begrudgingly told the doll to lead on. Vanity, it seemed, remained a powerful motivator, despite my almost overwhelming state of apathy.

Snatching the bloodstained cloth from my hand, the child tossed it into the nearest hearth before dashing through the crowded tavern toward the kitchen. And while following rather clumsily behind her, I could’ve sworn I saw a dagger embed itself in the doorpost as I passed by.

Unconcerned by my lack of coordination, I bowled through the kitchen, stumbling over cooks and a host of bare-scaled women trying to either avoid or impede me. Everything was extremely bright and exceptionally loud in this area, including the child who was shouting about the need to move faster; I might have done just that, had there not been someone dropping dishware in my path every few yards. Nevertheless, within moments, the child burst through the kitchen’s rear door. There she stood, grimacing against the wind as she held it open for me and cussing when she slammed it shut behind me.

* * * * *

Breathless and feeling as though we’d outsmarted someone, I marveled that the child didn’t seem to share my sense of accomplishment. After wedging something in the door’s edge, she turned to stare contemptuously at a darkened courtyard littered with refuse. It must have been a sorry sight indeed, for the child’s expression held more disappointment than I’d ever expect to see on a rescuer’s face.

The place to make our stand has been chosen for us, she groused, cutting her eyes in my direction. As it appears you can run no farther.

Even from a babe’s mouth, the call-to-arms was surprisingly potent. Talk of standing one’s ground was a vernacular my body understood—a language it spoke fluently. However, my mind seemed to be at a crossroads as to why such a pleasant evening should be ruined by the child’s troublesome suggestion. A moment later, I found myself seated atop an empty wine barrel, trading hisses with a rat and wanting naught but another drink.

From the look I was given, I figured the child wanted naught but my death—a look I knew well. I’ll attempt to draw them to me! she called when something heavy struck the door from within. "Do try to defend yourself, Dame Never fade."

There’d been an insult hidden in her tone. Of that, I was certain. Sadly, I was having a difficult time formulating a scathing retort. I’d just gotten it figured out when the tavern’s door burst outward, coughing forth a noisome assortment of steel-wielding hooligans.

The child stood between me and the flood of bodies that’d exited into the courtyard. Intellectually, I knew they were there to murder me, and I was quite sure I preferred they didn’t. Alas, barred from the outrage I would’ve normally shown at such a time, asking that they leave us in peace was the best I could do. Sufficed to say, this merely annoyed the child further and filled the courtyard with raucous laughter.

Without warning, the seething little girl became a blur of silver flashes, replacing the sound of merriment with cries of anguish and dismay. Creatures that were not engaged in combat with the whirling white duelist, sought to make their way around her. When one succeeded, it occurred to me that I should draw my daggers, but the pitiful lack of dexterity I displayed while doing so only served to embolden him further.

Kneeling to retrieve the blade I’d fumbled, I narrowly avoided being cleaved in two. Virgin steel caught my eye as the bearer brought his sword down upon the vacant wine barrel, lodging it there. Cursing me for a whore, my attacker then backhanded me across the face, knocking me from my feet.

As I lay in filth, fissures of rage reprimanded me. They reminded me that there were proper responses to what had just occurred. I hadn’t considered such responses when the child laid her hand across my face. As painful as that had been, I didn’t retaliate—not even at the sight of my own blood. However, she hadn’t laid me in squalor. I suppose that made all the difference. For it was reason enough to heed my body’s call-to-arms.

When my prey’s blade rang free from the empty barrel, my body chose the most appropriate course of action. With dagger in hand, I kicked the creature’s legs from beneath him, buried Daeth in his eye, caught his lovely sword, and gained my feet before his body touched the ground.

As my attacker lay lifeless, I realized he hadn’t offered a single indication of suffering upon his demise. My body still killed quickly, it seemed, though it lacked its usual sadism. I should’ve been disappointed, but I wasn’t; I’d gained a souvenir.

With said souvenir, I dispatched a second attacker in time to watch my silk swaddled savior continue her assault on multiple foes. It might have been the alleged poison wreaking havoc on my vision, but I marveled as a ghostly coryphée danced around a filth-laden stage, spinning and changing direction in midair like an enraptured humming bird, touching down every so often to extract blood from a captive audience. In a word, it was beautiful. It was death doled out in proper portions—without skimping on the suffering.

Alas, my appreciation for the girl’s talent was cut short when I was forced to drive my souvenir through the heart of an archer who’d taken aim at her. Suddenly overcome with dizziness, I then retched atop his body. Afterward, I stood to find that my actions had drawn the attention of another pair of brigands who’d had their fill of being bloodied by a child. Noting my sorry state, they rushed to cut me down instead.

The thunderous crack of canon fire echoed throughout the courtyard. As I wiped brain-matter from my eyes, I could barely make out the faces of the five shining figures shooting and loading muskets in the distance. I drew both daggers then, crossing them before me as my adversary’s lobotomized corpse fell at my feet; this left his much slower, and seemingly dull-witted, compatriot to rethink his own folly. He chose to advance.

When the thug’s sword stroke fell, I spun to avoid it, slashing the tendons of his sword arm in the process. Apparently the thug’s tendons worked differently than those found in the arms of most sword wielders, for he continued to attack, unscathed. I soon discovered that the creature also lacked a proper pair of knees, lungs, and any of the usual reproductive organs I’d come to rely on as easy targets. In the end, I was forced to make do with artless butchery.

The courtyard had grown quiet by the time my prey’s head thudded against the cobblestones, followed shortly by the sound of its corpse crumpling into a bloody heap. As I knelt, wiping my daggers free of gore, I turned to find the members of Levlin’s unclothed sisterhood leering at me. She’d been ushering the gun-wielding ladies through the splintered doorway when she paused to watch me as well. Moments later, after shaking her head in admonishment, the copper-scaled serpent slid indoors. With the sound of a heavy bolt falling into place came the realization that I’d soon have to repay her for her assistance. But she’d never accept money as payment. Not this time.

The child stirred in my periphery, her face had become a mask of disappointment once more. I figured she’d also seen me kill the lumbering half-wit and was none too impressed with what she saw.

While I can appreciate this not being my finest hour, I said, I appreciate the fact I’ve managed to remain among the living even more.

Disastrous, she mused, heedless of my assessment. Utterly disastrous.

Consider it a victory, however ugly . . . Now, off with you! I’ve matters to attend.

Forgive me, but this was no victory. Others have evaded us. I suggest we not tarry, lest they return with reinforcements.

"As I’ve said, child, I have matters to attend. You may be an innocent, but I doubt you’re an idiot. Now, go. I can handle things from here."

"With respect, my lady, you’re slow . . . in mind and body. Probably dying. We’ve failed to take any of these alive, so we’ll learn nothing from them. The adversary masses once more, sure to attack again, and the rotting flesh of their cohorts has attracted vermin both large and small. Need you more reasons to leave?"

With you? I think not.

Your life is still in danger, mistress. I can lead you to safety.

There’s no such place. I laughed. Besides, I’ve lived to drink my weight in every poison there is. This too shall pass.

I pray you’re right, mistress, but your enemies aren’t likely to wait for that to happen. Would you, if you were in their position?

Unalarmed by her words, I wondered how much she knew about my attackers’ plans; I wondered who sent her to aid me against them, but mostly, I wondered where she’d secreted the weapons she used to fend them off. When my curiosity had gotten the better of me, I reached for her and found myself stumbling past nothing.

"You are swift," I mused, preparing to corner her.

I do not wish to strike you again, she warned, slowly distancing herself further. I ask that you refrain. Although, I feel I should apologize in advance as your continued reluctance to flee this place will surely make doing so a necessity. And though I’ve never drank your weight in poison, my lady, I’m quite sure I can drag it, if need be.

The idea of being slapped into submission and shanghaied by a child was as sobering as it was novel. Only, I found no humor in the images it evoked. Given my condition, I had no doubt she was capable of rendering me unconscious. She’d already proved more than willing to do so. I still smarted from the first strike she’d given me, and I had absolutely no desire to explain to Levlin—who’d been surreptitiously watching from an upper window—why I couldn’t defend myself against a prepubescent debutant. I agreed to leave.

As if the lack of a head wasn’t proof enough, a final glance at the corpse being devoured by reaper mites assured me that we were, in fact, not going to learn anything from it. The unseen scavengers were once again going about their grim, yet efficient, business. They’d make certain there would be nothing left of my victims but clothes and weaponry. They always have.

You should feel more like yourself as we travel, the doll assured as we walked through the garden of mutilated bodies. I will try not to move too far ahead of you this time.

You’re an angel.

Without another word of warning, she was off and running. And I, for lack of a less humiliating reason to do otherwise, found myself stumbling through the lamplit streets of Yorn, like an amateur jewel thief from a heist gone awry.

Having given up on keeping pace with the child, I labored just to keep sight of her. At times I’d forget why I ran and slowed to a more accommodating stroll. Flustered, the child would then return to pull at my skirt until I was once again stumbling after her.

We soon reached the Harbor District, where we raced past the unending row of hovels that littered the city’s shoreline. Sadly, this was no stealthy escape; in fact, everyone I passed had something to shout about it. And every word I shouted in return added to what had to be the longest expletive ever uttered as I collided with peddlers and prissy about-towners loitering on the streets. Before matters could escalate from words to weapons, however, I’d be pulled away.

The child and I eventually turned toward the bay and ran along its moonlit pier, past massive merchant ships, trawlers, and a bevy of vessels that smelled as though my attackers had once been piled into them. Thus reminding me why I continued to run.

I soon caught sight of a small vessel flying no banners, looming in the distance. The ship was remarkable in that it boasted no crew and was the most elegant craft on the water. Assuming it was our destination, I slowed once more. It seemed my sense of foreboding when it came to traversing the deep could not be overridden, no matter what hellish substance swam within my body. It was then I began to realize that I didn’t trust the child, and I suddenly gave a damn about where she’d been leading me.

Having doubled back once again, the girl trotted impatiently. You mustn’t dawdle, she huffed. Our destination lies just over there . . .

I followed her pointing finger toward the glistening ship on the far end of the wharf and shuddered. That’s what I thought you’d say.

My lady? she puzzled.

I gave no reply.

I was swiftly losing my cavalier mood—and my patience. It appeared the child was fresh out of patience as well, something my awakening senses told me long before she began muttering obscenities. Still, I perceived she harbored me no ill will.

However, this was established only after I realized the gang of longshoreman who’d been forced to work their way around us harbored a great deal of ill will toward me. They were none too shy about expressing it either. And after