The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 39: House of Lies

“My eyes… why doesn’t he have my eyes? YOU! YOU SLATTERN, WHAT DID YOU DO? WHO DID YOU SLEEP WITH!

Grafling Louon, please! She’s just given bir-AGH

SHUT UP! SHUT UP, SHUT UP! Wha-Father? What are you-

Boy! Be calm; this is what we hoped for. That is your son and the future of our house. Leave and let me speak to my daughter-in-law. We have much to discuss.

My liege… she’s exhausted, the birthing was difficult, surely this can wait.

No, it cannot.” - Memories of a Midwife.

Healers, Priests, and guards swarmed into the clinic, checking the unconscious patients, making plans for their care and protection. Leaving Cole sitting on a bench near the charity-house, a bored Cat-eyes next to him. Iron-teeth was helping coordinate the various responders, something that was clearly stepping on his Karlhof counterpart’s toes. A large man with a pugilist’s face and hands who wasn’t pleased to have his territory impinged on.

Sucking in breaths of the cold winter air, Cole focused on recovering after his earlier expenditure. The effort hadn’t used much of his power, but channeling a God's will was never easy. How little it taxed Cole’s soul actually shocked him. He’d been miserly with his Paladin abilities until relatively recently. Doubt and angst trammeled him until sheer necessity forced his hand. Now facing these greater challenges and responsibilities, Cole was forced to rely more on his divine gifts. Gifts that were steadily but consistently growing in potency, variety, and efficiency with use.

Watching as another gaggle of healers arrived, Alia Cat-eyes asked. “So what now?”

Cole shrugged. “We wait a little longer; our next step should be clear shortly.”

Alia leaned back on the bench and sighed. “I assumed we’d just leave here and go fuck up the Louons, not sit around for what, half an hour now?”

An amused breath escaped Cole. “Believe me, I’d like that as well, but I want to check something first.”

They sat in silence for a little longer before Alia said. “So…. I heard some crazy shit happened at the ball. Is it true Natalie ate someone, and you miraculously recovered from being paralyzed?”

A deep groan of annoyance escaped Cole. “She fed off the two Vampires that attacked, letting us capture one and forcing the other to flee. As for me, well, I heal quickly.”

Alia raised an eyebrow. “When I saw Mina this morning, she seemed really spooked by you. Sure, there isn’t more to it?”

Mina didn’t know about Cole’s nature, but she was smart enough to notice the oddities. He wondered if she’d eventually discover the truth. “There is more to it, but I’m not going to tell you. By the way, how is it going with Mina?”

Cole was picking up some tricks for verbal sparring from Natalie and figured if Alia was going to pry, he could answer in kind. The Catblood shifted slightly and shrugged. “It’s… it's too early to tell, but… I think it's good.”

Nodding, Cole said. “Good, I’m glad. Thank you for winning me the bet.”

Alia snorted and remarked. “Oh yeah? What did you win from Natalie?”

A rueful smile split Cole’s face, and Alia just stared at him as dawning comprehension. “Fire-in-iron, did I help you take a tumble?”

Cole shrugged a little sheepishly. “More you decided the details of said tumble.”

Cat-eyes balked at that and shook her head. “So… what’s it like… y’know, with a Vampire.”

Cole just looked at her for a long moment before saying. “Alia, I consider you a friend, but not that good of a friend.”

She snorted in amusement. “Fair enough.”

The clatter of hooves and crunch of boots caught both their attention then. A troop of soldiers led by a mounted knight was marching down the street. Each soldier wore chainmail covered by a gold-colored tabard. The knight had fine plate armor and an ornate helmet shaped like a snarling lion-head. His mount was a Hippogryph, the huge beast’s wings twitching as it walked, clearly eager to fly.

Getting up and unsheathing Requiem, Cole rolled his shoulder and started walking down the street. After a moment’s hesitation, Alia got up and joined him. They’d been expecting a Louon response to the nurse’s message, but this was a bit… much.

Cole stopped maybe twenty paces from the column of soldiers, twenty house guards, and their commander. The knight raised his visor, revealing the hawkish features and golden eyes of a Louon. In a sharp voice that carried, the knight barked. “What is the meaning of this False-Paladin? Why are you here, and what is going on?”

Rolling Requiem in his palm, Cole said. “I know what your family was doing at the Saint Eustace clinic. Soon the whole singing city will know as well. Would you preserve what honor you have, Sir Knight, and help me end this madness?”

The Knight’s eyes flashed with anger. “I know not of what you speak, False-Paladin. What madness has your undead harlot poured into your mind now? What slander do you hope to smear on my house now?”

Ignoring the taunt, Cole answered. “Taking those infected by a Demon's corruption and using them to create loyal servants. That takes a particularly twisted mind to even imagine, let alone do. Are you merely stupid enough not to notice this festering evil, or were you party to it?”

The house guard shifted slightly at Cole’s words, more than a few looking past Cole to the crowd of carriages, wagons, and healers surrounding the charity house. It occurred to Cole then that maybe some of these soldiers had family within the clinic. Putting their minds at ease would be the right thing to do and might be tactically prudent.

“The clinic's patients are no longer in danger. The illness effecting them was a product of the Demon beneath the city. I destroyed it and broke the lingering power. House Louon has kept these people hostage, treating their sickness but not curing them. That ends today; the Pantheon burned away the last remnants of the Demon’s corruption, and now they can truly heal.”

Uncertainty, confusion, and doubt showed in some of the soldiers; seizing on this, Cole brandished Requiem at the knight. “So answer me! Did you not know what your House was doing, or were you culpable in this evil?”

The Knight answered. “You truly are deluded; you spew nonsense and pretend the gods act through you. No one will believe your slander.”

Shaking his head in disgust, Cole said. “I think people will. I think they will listen to the truth and stand with me when I tear down your House and expose it for the mire of twisted insanity it is! Tell me, knight, do you fear middle age? Do you lay awake wondering when your mind will betray you? Or has it started too already, and that is why you play along with this madness? Your mind already warped by the curse of Dragon and Dragonslayer?”

The Hippogryph Knight unsheathed his sword and charged Cole then. Six hundred kilos of furious beast and rider galloped towards the Paladin. An act that shocked Cole; he’d not expected the Louon Knight to attack. Or at least not attack with such brazenness; trampling a Paladin in front of a street worth of witnesses isn’t the sort of thing a House trying to be subtle would condone.

Cole quickly extended Requiem into a halberd and braced it on the ground. But before dwarven-steel could meet monster flesh, the hippogryph spread its wings. The charging hoofbeats were drowned out by the whoosh of giant pinons. The hippogryph leaped forward and into the air, its hooves lashing out for Cole’s head. Ducking quickly, he and Cat-eyes dropped to the city street as the monster flew over them.

Getting up and spinning to look, Cole watched as the hippogryph took to the air and flew up above the buildings of Karlhof. Its huge wings frantically pushed it to the sky. The monster banked in the air once it was maybe thirty meters up and soared towards the city center. Heading for the noble districts and their manors.

Cat-eyes also watched the fleeing noble and spat a glob of phlegm in his direction. “Fucker could have killed us!”

Cole nodded. “I think he hoped to. No matter, we can add that crime to the tally. I think he’s heading to the Louon estate, probably trying to warn the rest of his family.”

Alia frowned. “Will that be a problem? They could destroy evidence or get the story straight?”

A bitter laugh escaped Cole. “What story? That a powerful family with magic, money, and connections discovered evidence of Demonic corruption and did nothing? At best, they could plead ignorance and say they were stupid enough not to notice a literal demon infection in people under their control. As for the evidence, that is a valid concern but at this point… not as much as it could be.”

Stepping towards the shocked soldiers who seemed uncertain what to do, Cole scanned them, peering into the Aether and looking for familiar signs. He’d spent much time looking at Black-tongue and Big-nose in the Aether. While he was poor at recognizing spells, he was familiar enough to see the magic of house mark geases on maybe five of the twenty soldiers. Letting his power dim, Cole saw the soldiers looking at him with undisguised fear.

“House Louon will fall today; that isn’t a threat or speculation, but a fact. The question is will the lot of you fall with them? I know some of you are under a Geas and cannot tell me what I need to know. But it's within the power of my Temple to remove those spells. Work with me and I will see you are treated with mercy and maybe even clemency depending on the situation.”

None of the soldiers responded, each wary of being the first to speak. Finally, one in the back asked. “Can ya cure werewoofs?”

Other soldiers winced, and a few gave the speaker dirty looks. Pushing past his fellows, the soldier in question came to stand before Cole. He was young, barely out of his teens, with buck teeth. Nervously he came before them and asked. “Tah curse of the Wolf, can it be cured?”

Cole shook his head but elaborated. “Completely? No, it cannot. But the Werefolk have long learned to manage and live with the curse. They have spells and potions that dull the beast and let a person survive the initial transformation with their mind intact. The wolf's blood may be a curse, but it is no death sentence.”

The speaker’s jaw tightened, and he swallowed hard. Pulling off his helmet, he tossed it to the ground and stalked toward Cole. Scratching his scraggly beard, he said. “Me brother was bit, and the Louons… they said he would become a monster. They… they killed him.”

One of the other soldiers lunged forward, sword ready to end the speaker, but Requiem knocked the strike away. Grabbing the attacker, Cole knocked him to the ground and kicked him in the gut, forcing him to gasp in pain, revealing the tattoo on his tongue. Cat-eyes got some strong rope and bound the house-marked soldier while Cole turned his attention back to the speaker.

“What’s your name?” he asked the very nervous-looking man.

Stepping away from his fellow soldiers, many of whom were looking at him with derision or confusion, the speaker said. “Lam, me name is Lam. Me brother was Ian, and we fought for the Louons; we… we thought we were fighting for the city.”

Placing a strong hand on Lam’s shoulder, Cole asked. “You were in the riot, weren’t you? One of the soldiers who fought the Werefolk.”

Glancing back at his fellows, who seemed caught between fear and duty, Lam answered. “Yeah, a lot of us were. They said if the people had any chance of driving out the monsters, they needed good steel backing them. Or… well, silver in a lot of cases.”

Lam seemed to get lost in memories for a second, his eyes unfocusing, and tremors started in one hand. Recovering himself, he said. “We fought the monsters, but we didn’t protect nobody. It was no fight, it was butchery. My brother was bitten by a wolf, and I dragged him away from the fight. We… we felt your light but I was looking away from you, I was trying to bandage my brother.”

His words came faster and less certain as if Lam was trying to rush through the memories, unwilling to stay on any particular one for long. Giving the house guard a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, Cole turned to the rest of the soldiers. “Work with me and help get justice for Vindabon and yourself. The Louons used you all and have discarded you. Your officer’s flight illustrates that much. The House of Liars has shown you no loyalty; why should you give them yours?”

By now, Iron-teeth and other guards had broken away from the charity house to figure out what was happening. Cole gestured to them and then at the soldiers. “Take these men into protective custody. They can tell us much of Louon’s dealings, or at least the smart ones will. Also, send a runner to the Eighth Temple and ask if anyone is skilled enough to safely remove lesser Geases.”

The soldiers of House Louon looked uncertain at this, and Cole offered them a cold glare. “You are all victims in this mess, but you are also perpetrators. I am offering you the chance to make things right, do not refuse it.”

Twenty armed men trained for war quailed at the Paladin’s wrath and let themselves be disarmed and collected by the city guards. As this happened, Cole went to Iron-teeth, who was directing the mass arrest and said. “I’m borrowing Cat-eyes for what's next; I’ll send a message when it comes time to take Louon Manor. But other things are required before that.”

Iron-teeth raised a bushy eyebrow. “What is coming next? I’ve done as you requested, Cole, but I’d like to know more. I could understand your woman’s theory about the Demon corruption among the servants. Still, I’m confused about what you are doing now?”

Cole nodded in acquiescence. “The faith you’ve shown in me is appreciated. I found where Liam Louon lives, an apartment in Weinstadt. We couldn’t search it until we had a proper cause, which this whole mess here gives us. But now that House Louon is realizing everything is collapsing, they might try and destroy any evidence. Before that can happen, I need to investigate, preferably with the help of a skilled tracker vested with the city’s authority.”

A hard smile showed behind Iron-teeth’s beard. “Clever, alright, go ahead and find something we can use to hang the bastard.”

It didn’t take long for Cole and Alia to arrive back in Weinstadt; they were both fast and knew the city well. Finding Liam Louon’s apartment didn’t prove particularly difficult either. Weinstadt wasn’t exactly overflowing with luxury buildings suitable for an heir to a powerful noble house. In fact, it had exactly one building meeting those standards. The Prinzhof was a miniature palace built by a rich merchant for himself and his fellow low-born plutocrats. Despite this origin, it had apparently attracted a few members of the old families wanting lodging outside their traditional territories.

Cat-eyes told Cole all this as they approached the building. Despite her laid-back attitude, she was surprisingly knowledgeable about the Thirteenth District’s minutia. Which Cole realized was honestly to be expected for a City-warden. Arriving at the doors of the Prinzhof, the duo was met by a surly looking watchman who probably had some Orc in his ancestry judging by his underbite.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” he growled, setting down a well-worn pipe as he did.

Alia held up her badge and explained. “I’m City-warden Cat-eyes with the Watch, and I need to see the apartment belonging to Liam Louon.”

The doorman exhaled a cloud of smoke and said. “Come back with permission from the Court, Council, or the Louons. Till then, kindly bugger off.”

Looking at Cole, Alia said. “Your turn.”

Silver light started to pour from Cole’s eyes. “I am Paladin Cole, sworn to Master Time, and I need to see that apartment. House Louon has been hiding Demonic corruption, and everything belonging to them is suspect. Let us pass, now.”

The doorman started to bridle at Cole’s attitude, but as the Paladin’s words made it through the doorman’s thick skull, he paled and stepped aside. “Uh… its… it's on the third floor. I don’t have a key.”

City-warden and Paladin entered the building and started for the staircase. Barely noticing the extravagance of the surrounding building as they did. Alia was focused on the hunt, and Cole had had more than enough aristocratic conceit.

As they climbed the stairs, Alia asked. “So I’ve jumped into this mess willingly, but now that it's getting messier, could you answer some questions?”

Cole nodded and said. “Ask away.”

Running a finger along an immaculately polished hand railing, she said. “So the Louons are sick with some kinda mind-breaking illness that is probably caused by them being half Dragonslayer, half Dragonblood right? And this madness is why this Liam-fuck has been killing people since he was an eight-year-old?”

Cole bobbed his head in confirmation as he glanced around, wary of any traps or tricks. Scratching her head, Alia continued. “And because we don’t have enough evidence that doesn’t rely on a Vampire or your weird magic, we need another way to catch the Heartstealer. Which was using their connections to the Demon to basically call a hunt down on them? Since it's pretty much anything-goes for dealing with Demonic corruption and all that terrible shit.”

Again Cole nodded. “Do you have a question, or are you just trying to ensure you’re follow along?”

Alia snorted. “Yes to both. I was getting to asking if the Louons knew about a Demon beneath the city and were willing to use it; why didn’t they make a deal with it to cure their illness?”

A bitter laugh escaped Cole. “Everything the Louons have done has had a logic to it, a cruel psychotic logic, but there has been a tangible benefit. Mad as they may be, there is no benefit in consorting with Demons. Any help it might provide would come at a steep cost and certainly not be what they wished for. The Demon is a poison; they used it to ensure loyalty and probably dispose of people, now that I think of it. But they wouldn’t use it on themselves, or at least I doubt they would.”

Accepting that, Alia added. “So Liam Louon is probably double-crazy because of his mother, and that's why he’s been terrible since childhood? So why is his family protecting him instead of I dunno locking him up or getting rid of him? If I were the head of a powerful family that couldn’t give a rat’s ass about morality, I’d smother the little shit and be done with it?”

Cole frowned and looked at Alia with a slightly worried expression. She shrugged. “Just in theory, putting myself in the enemy's boots and all that.”

Shrugging as they reached the third-story landing Cole said. “I don’t know, possibly because he’s the heir? There might be other reasons. Hopefully, we learn them here.”

Alia cursed as they arrived at the apartment door. “Jag-me-stupid, this is too complicated. Not even including the attempted framing of the Moonmoot and the stuff with the riot. I can’t wait to go back to cut purses and street gangs.”

Cole grunted in agreement. If he was being perfectly honest, he’d much prefer simple ghouls or even a feral Strigoi out in the wilderness than this morass they’d gotten caught up in. At the door to Liam’s apartment, the two looked for locks or traps. Cole peered into the Aether and Alia finessing the lock. No spells or tripwires were apparent, so Alia picked the lock and swung the door open.

The glow stones of the apartment activated on their entrance and shed cool light over a bizarre scene. Liam’s home was simultaneously one of the single most clean and messy places Cole had ever seen. The main room was a large rectangle centered around a dining table and parlor of sorts. The floors were polished to a mirror finish, and the wooden furniture practically sparkled. But the main table was heaped with garbage. Filthy clothes, old dishes encrusted with stains, a collection of ill-treated books, and interspersed between all this was a hoard of knick-knacks. The stink of garbage was contrasted by a nauseating smell of perfume, neither scent quite canceling out the other, simply adding to the discordance of the room.

Alia spoke for both of them as she glanced around the room. “What the fuck?”

Stepping over to one wall, Cole found a bookshelf, its volumes were placed poorly, and it looked like half-a-dozen texts would tumble out if someone sneezed. Reaching up, he ran a finger along the top of the bookshelf; not a speck of dust was to be found. Alia covered her nose with a handkerchief, trying to ignore the morass of contradicting smells. Muttering, “How didn’t we notice that through the door?”

Cole answered. “Air-cleaner spell attached to the door and every other one I saw in the building. Just another amenity to add to this place's appeal.”

Alia walked over to the table and peered at the books. A snort of grim amusement escaped her as she checked them over. “I’ve got a text on Werewolf attacks and another on soporific medicine. If that isn’t telling, I don’t know what is?”

Making a noise of agreement, Cole went over to the fireplace and crouched down. A few hunks of ashen wood sat on the log set, but the actual stone hearth was shockingly clean as if it had only seen one or two fires since its last scrubbing. The mantelpiece, by contrast, was covered in junk, the various accreta of life placed without care. In the middle of it was a small statuette of a lion. Quickly, Cole grabbed the palm-sized statue and crushed it, reducing the figurine to pebbles.

Alia turned at the noise and raised an eyebrow at the act. Dropping the statue into the fireplace, Cole shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

Resuming her search, Alia went over to what passed for the apartment’s kitchen, little more than a series of cabinets and a sink. The cabinets held salt, spices, and other necessities of dining. Except for the actual food, there was no ice box or anything resembling a pantry.

Noting this, Alia said. “You think he just ate elsewhere or what?”

Cole shrugged. “Maybe he had food delivered here; seems like something a noble would do.”

Looking at the sink, Alia bent down and looked below it. The wash basin was built over a storage space that reeked of whatever perfume the apartment was infused with. It didn’t take her long to find an uncorked bottle of perfume in the cabinet. Corking it with a noise of disgust, Alia’s sensitive eyes caught something else deep in the space. Reaching in, she pulled out a small purple bottle.

Returning to Cole, she held up the half-filled bottle. “Dream-sap, probably what was used to drug the victims”

Making a noise of disgust, Cole said. “Good work; let's check the bedroom next.”

The sleeping space was much like the rest of the apartment. Heaps of clothes and refuse sat next to a perfectly made bed, its sheets crisp and clean. Leaning down, Cole sniffed the sheets and nodded. “Same soap as used at the Laundry yard; he probably had been watching Antony even before the Gryp game.”

Taking another breath, Cole frowned; he caught two other scents beneath the soap. The first was sweat tinged with arousal and fear; the other smell was dried blood. Disgusted, Cole followed the scent. The sweat was clearly coming from the actual bed, but the blood was from below it. Pulling on the mattress, he found his target, an old leather belt. It was frayed beyond belief, and the buckle was rusted. The stink of blood, both fresh and old, oozed off the belt. Cole carefully held it with two fingers; even for a Knight used to fighting walking corpses, something about the belt felt distinctly unclean.

Setting it on the floor, Cole felt a slight coldness in his chest, his power reacting to something in the belt. Alia looked at it, her nose wrinkling as her own animal instincts set off by the strip of leather. Rubbing his jaw, Cole looked at her and said, “If I pass out, throw some water on me; if the water freezes, go get help.”

She looked at him strangely, and he shrugged. “If this thing is so emotionally charged, we can both sense it, then it's going to be bad when I peer into the Aether.”

Alia rolled her shoulders and cursed. “Fuck….”

Cole snorted in grim amusement. “Pretty much.”

Then before he could doubt his choice, Cole dived into the Aether and stared at the belt. The first thing that became apparent is there was nothing magical about the belt. No spells had been weaved upon it, neither had it witnessed any great arcane feats. The closest magical thing to it was how long it had been in proximity to someone with arcane potential and how much of that person's blood had soaked into it. The second thing that became apparent was how much pain the belt had caused.

The Aether was soaked in suffering; a lifetime of torment and horror was infused into the belt. So much so that flashes of events danced around it. Currents of pain forming pantomime shapes. Focusing on the aetheric projections, Cole tried to decipher them. As the metaphysical backlash struck Cole, he regretted the decision.

*A naked child on his knees, a middle age woman screaming at him*

*The belt cut young skin, its whip-crack accompanied by high-pitched screams.*

* Hands raw from scrubbing, back flensed by leather, mind broken by fear *

* The woman lies dead, hand clutching her chest, eyes bulging with a final scream*

*A knife drips with blood. It is held in small hands. A hunk of meat lies on the floor, a stolen heart.*

*A maid screaming at the child, the knife finds her flesh, and she dies in pain.*

*A washerman lies against his tub, drunk; he barely feels the blade part his skin*

*The belt in the child's hands, now a teenager. The belt does as it always has, no longer prompted by an external voice*

Reality returned to Cole as cold water splashed onto his face. Spluttering, Cole realized he’d fallen to the floor, and Cat-eyes had dumped a hastily filled pitcher of water on him. Blinking away the visions, Cole felt nauseous. He’d touched many tragedies in the Aether, but this… this had to be the worst.

Sitting up, Cole groaned, and Alia helped him to his feet. Concern writ large on her face, she asked. “What happened?”

Tongue leaden, mind foggy, Cole grunted. “Liam Louon is a lot more damaged than we thought.”

After a few long breaths, he explained what he saw in the Aether, and Alia’s tan face lost a few shades. “That…. that’s horrible,” Shut muttered, a nauseous look on her face.

Cole nodded. “It certainly explains some things. I don’t think Liam had a chance, even without the family curse. That sort of abuse is…”

Pausing, Cole looked down at the blood-stained belt and frowned. Something that Natalie said floated back to him. How Liam’s blood didn’t have the sweet rot in it like his cousin did. Leaning down, Cole grabbed the belt and folded it gently, thoughts working through his head. Glancing around the apartment, he tried to assemble all the pieces. Something was nagging at his mind, but he couldn’t understand it, so he laid out the situation.

“Liam was killing noble servants, people he saw as bad caretakers. Reenacting his trauma with Michelle Stine over and over. Then something happened; he was probably found out. But instead of getting him help or disposing of him, his family moved him to Weinstadt. Protecting and caring for Liam while also keeping the House at a distance. So he moved onto murdering people in Weinstadt, timing his new killings to the Moonmoot as a cover.”

Frowning, Alia asked. “You think his nanny was the one who beat him with the belt? Why didn’t anyone notice or stop it?”

Cole shrugged. “His parents both died violently in an incident that nearly ruined the House. I wouldn’t be surprised if Liam was just handed off to a nanny and ignored while the family tried to right the ship. But that is just a guess; maybe someone under the effects of the curse hoped to punish Liam for his father’s failings.”

Shaking her head, Alia looked at the belt in Cole’s hand and muttered. “I… I almost feel bad for him.”

“That proves you are a good person.” Responded Cole, before adding, “I think it's probably why the Gods have been so unwilling to interfere in this, only acting once the threat became bad enough. The Gods have difficulty with moral complexity, and this situation is anything but clear. House Louon is effected by a curse none of its members deserved, driving them insane and to terrible acts. Liam suffered a nightmarish childhood and is a product of that trauma. The Gods have difficulty assigning blame in cases like this.”

Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Alia snapped. “That’s ratshit! These fuckers had every resource and advantage at their disposal. My people deal with an inherited curse, and we don’t protect our kin if they go bad! We make sure they can’t hurt anyone; we take that responsibility onto ourselves.”

Cole nodded soberly. “Yes, which is why mortals decide these things, not Gods. They’ve given us guidelines of morality, and it's up to us to interpret them. House Louon isn’t just cursed; it is a curse upon this city.”

Cat-eyes grimaced at that but nodded in agreement. “So, did we find what we needed here?”

Glancing around the apartment, Cole answered. “I’d hoped to find more adamant evidence, but what we found will do. Understanding our enemy is important, and I think we know what led to the Heart-stealer’s existence. Let's check the other rooms and then move on.”

There was a bathroom and a storage space also in the apartment. Nothing about them was abnormal aside from the contradicting cleanliness and filth. The storage room, in particular, was a mess, filled with the debris of life in great piles of old paper, mementos, and other forms of junk. As Cole was ready to leave the room, Cat-eyes stopped her search and stared at one of the walls.

Without saying anything, she left the room, went into the hallway, and then the bedroom. The storage room and bedroom were next to each other, separated by a wall. Cole followed Cat-eyes and watched as she stared at the opposite side of the wall and then returned to the storage room.

Looking at him, she gestured at the wall. “The storage room is missing space. I think there's a hidden room.”

Frowning, Cole went over to the wall and put a hand on it. Now that she’d pointed it out, Cole could notice the discrepancy. “Good catch; how’d you notice?”

Joining him in looking for a latch, Alia explained. “I’ve known many criminals who’ve used stuff like this. Spotting fake walls and drawers is a skill you pick up.”

Shutting her eyes, Alia let her hands trace along the wall. It was paneled wood and was spotless, so when Alia’s sensitive fingers caught on something, she smiled. Fitting a sharp fingernail beneath the discrepancy, Alia flipped open a hidden latch and exposed a keyhole. Pulling out her lock picks, she started working on the hidden door. Cole pulled out his amulet and used it to shine a light on the project as Alia worked.

Finally, with a click the lock opened and a handle popped out of the wall. Cole grabbed it and pulled, sliding part of the wall into its fellows like an eastern folding screen. As the paneled wood slid away, the stink of chemicals poured out of the hidden room. It stunk like a mortuary and as Cole’s summoned light poured into the space, the comparison became even more apt.

A large set of shelves took up the hidden room, shelves filled with glass jars. Jars holding pickled human hearts. As Cat-eyes and Cole stared at the grotesque display, the City-warden muttered. “Well, how is that for evidence?”