 
### The Stone Unturned

A STEAM Novel, Book 1

Ashlee Hart

Published by Ashlee Hart

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2020 Ashlee Hart

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### Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

About, Discover, Connect

###

### Chapter 1

"This is entirely unacceptable," Augustus professed.

"Agreed brother," Pascal echoed, pausing. "I fear dark times are upon us."

An image of two elderly men reflected off the glossy eyes of the corpse sprawled before them. The stiffness of death had locked a wild expression on the dead man's face and, like a surrealistic painting, exaggerated his unmoving features in a snarled and unsightly grimace. A knife stood vertically in his back.

"That's putting it mildly." Augustus stared at Marcus's outstretched body on the floor.

"It will be the third murder this month," Pascal added.

"Entirely unacceptable I tell you."

In the morning hour, gentle beams of sunlight filtered through the half-opened shutters of the quiet room. The polished alabaster walls and floor basked in the glow. A single wooden desk and chair filled one corner of the small space. In another sat a solitary cot, neatly made and undisturbed. The simple furnishings spoke to a cloistered and simple hermitage.

The two men skirted the pool of blood that had formed where Marcus lay, staying close to each other as their untrained eyes scanned for clues indicating what might have befallen their brethren. They lifted their ceremonial robes as they moved, careful not to misstep and contaminate the scene.

Pascal raised his voice, "Whoever's to blame is quite persistent."

"Vile heathens," Augustus spat, turning away to relieve himself of the horrific sight.

Pascal backed away from the body and turned to his equal.

"What can we do?" Pascal questioned, raising his shoulders.

"Pascal, it's not what we can do. It's what that damn Police Guild can do. They're the ones responsible for figuring this mess out!" The anger in Augustus's voice hissed through his words.

Pascal considered Augustus's point. For the consistent string of murders sweeping through the Spirit Guild, little progress was being shown for it on the investigatory side. Augustus, Pascal, and other senior members of the guild had been denied details to the case soon after the authorities came in to examine the first of the bodies. The police explained their reasoning for the stonewalling as it being an escalated case, an unusual series of crimes at a particularly high-profile guild. But in the police's silence, the Spirit Guild was left questioning.

As for Pascal and the other guild leaders, they believed the police investigation simply hit a dead end. They were certain the case was stalled, covered up with the convenience of bureaucratic procedure.

"I say the authority's efforts have been less than enviable," Pascal responded.

"Agreed, and at this rate the entire leadership of our guild will be wiped clean." Augustus bowed his head.

Pascal looked on and raised a hand, gesturing in front of him. "Perhaps our time is nigh. Worldly kingdoms are not to be envied, as the scriptures dictate. You know this Augustus. And even the mightiest must fall, if the powers will it."

Augustus snapped his head up and stared at his friend. "Spare me the sermon Pascal. No amount of dogma will calm my nerves today. And, I assure you, I'll be the last to die. God or otherwise, my time has not yet arrived. I quite like being alive, thank you."

Silence filled the room as the men kept each other's gaze. With a sigh, Pascal broke away. "Marcus was a good man," he said.

Augustus nodded, concern still etching his brow. He whispered, slowly metering his words, "If our killer is willing to put to rest a defenseless, old Elder such as this man, who's to say what might happen next."

Pascal responded in the same hushed tone. "May his soul rest in peace."

From beyond the locked door, the sound of a heavy keyring rang out. Augustus and Pascal looked up from their meditation. Metal clicked against metal as a key seated into its place and turned. The bolt hissed, steam draining from its pressured housing, and the portal unlocked. In front of Augustus and Pascal a cleanly robed man opened the door inward and looked up.

The scene greeted Jacob like a punch. Here, two of the church Elders stood unrushed, looking on, while a third lay in a broad pool of blood ahead. The stillness of the whole affair emphasized its odd nature. Shouldn't everyone be thrown into a state of chaos?

"My God!" Jacob rushed to Marcus's side, careful not to upset the body. "Wha- what happened? Someone, please, call a medic!"

Augustus and Pascal stood silent, considering Jacob's words. Reaching a hand forward, Pascal started calmly, "He has passed my son. It is too late."

Augustus followed, closing the door behind Jacob, "And I recommend you don't touch his body lest you want to add yourself to the suspect list."

Jacob looked up, speechless. Wild spins of emotion took hold as he pieced together the recent happenings in the Spirit Guild. "Another one, so soon?" he asked, incredulous that death was pervading as holy a place as the Citadel.

"Yes, we are as distraught as you, child." Pascal joined Augustus in his calm demeanor. "There is a pox upon our house. This much is obvious. One not easily dislodged I'm afraid."

Augustus eyed Jacob. "What say you young one? Your opinion about this matter?"

Jacob assessed the situation. He was as aware as the other Archbishops in his ranks that murder had gripped the Spirit Guild – a place of holiness, belief, and faith – with a tight fist. The Spirit Guild's place in the city of Magna, as in the other cities of the continent, sought to provide refuge for those seeking divine reflection and peace. To think that the flock of this massive parish should be terrorized by forces unknown wrenched at Jacob's being.

"I truly have no answer." Jacob responded, desolate. "Marcus wasn't a harm to anyone. He had retired from his churchly duties, mostly."

Pascal questioned, "So you're saying we should sit here and do nothing then?"

"That's not what I mean," Jacob retorted.

Augustus chimed in, "You're the most senior of the Archbishops Jacob. You and your rank stand to succeed us Elders as we fall you realize."

"We put much faith in you Jacob," Pascal added.

Jacob took a deep breath and composed himself, "What has the police said about this... tragedy?"

"The police have not yet been alerted." Augustus shot back.

"What! They must be!" Jacob cried.

"Must they?" Augustus raised an eyebrow in rhetoric. "And how effective have the so-called authorities been thus far?"

Jacob narrowed his eyes. He knew just as well the difficulty his guild was having with the police in their investigation, "We toe a fine line here. You understand the risk we incur every moment this goes unreported."

Pascal waved off the young Archbishop's remark. "Of course, Jacob. We aren't old men of wisdom for no reason."

Augustus finished the thought, "Consider our circumstances. This is the third death we've seen and without results from the Police Guild. How many more murders should we let run under our nose and stand to do nothing?"

Pascal added, "We face extinction at this rate young man. What would collapse of our guild look like to you?"

Jacob thought again about the population the Spirit Guild served. From Jacob's initial post of Priest through his ascension to the youngest Archbishop in guild ranks, he kept a close affinity for his fellow man. Jacob's ability to connect, whether with another priest, a follower, or a stranger was what had made him successful in his rise through the church.

Pascal finished his words with stern expression, "The clergy is in a state of fear. The faith of our followers has been shaken. We can't sit idly by waiting anymore."

It was clear the two men across from Jacob cared as much as he did about the wellbeing of their guild. However, Jacob disliked the idea of going vigilante in attempt to gain traction against their problem. Settling himself, he looked to the two Elders before him.

"So, what do you propose?" Jacob asked.

Augustus lowered his voice, "It's not what we propose, it's who we propose."

Of all the guilds in Magna, the Watcher Guild held the most mystique. Relatively small compared to the bevy of other disciplines found in the city, the Watcher Guild was filled with an assortment of the most talented citizens from across the continent. As a constituency, the Watchers were called upon to solve complex and nuanced tasks within the city – administrative, judicial, structural, criminal, or otherwise. Watchers often worked alongside other guilds in the need for unequivocal savants.

"The Watcher Guild?" Jacob asked.

"Yes," Augustus hesitated. "But not just anyone from the Watcher Guild."

Pascal followed, "In fact, no Watcher at all."

Jacob understood.

Remy Stone. A prodigal member for the Watcher Guild, stories of Remy's travails were something of intrigue across Magna. From the time she was inducted into the guild Remy had turned into an enigma. She often worked alone, focused and unhindered. Her unorthodox methodologies gave rise to a reputation both appreciated by those she helped and disliked by those who didn't understand her. Remy stayed out of the spotlight as best she could, but even the careful aren't immune to pain.

Remy's pain was exile – banishment from the guild system altogether – where she was now denied access to any guild membership and their associated services. When the news of her trial had been released months ago, a quiet murmur bubbled across the city. Accusations about corruption had been whispered and pleas for innocence had fallen on deaf ears. In Remy's case, she had been charged with the capital crime of treason, the finality of the verdict coming when the Governance Guild specified no appeals or retrial. In addition, the details of the case had been marked confidential and kept unreleased from public record, making the ordeal all the more unusual.

For all her clout, Jacob couldn't help but see Remy as a risk. Her recent removal from the Watcher Guild had shocked all those who believed she could do no wrong.

"She's in exile," Jacob responded bluntly. "She's, untouchable."

"All the better." Pascal was quick to interject. "She is our best hope you understand. Possibly our only hope."

"And if she doesn't want to help?" Jacob asked.

"Provide the offer of our resources." Augustus looked to his side and continued, "Pascal and I have discussed this. Give her access to the Vault and tell her we may be of service in unraveling the mystery of her exile."

Jacob shifted, surprised. The implications of Augustus's offer were far-reaching. Only a select few of the Spirit Guild's senior clergy had authority to access the sacred space mentioned. Jacob went on, "to allow her as audience to the Vault is against our order's way, you realize this Elder?"

Pascal answered for Augustus, reaching an arm out and resting it on Jacob's shoulder, "Considering the situation, we don't believe we have much choice. If I were Remy, I'd stay clear of this whole matter. But we need her help. We need it desperately. For these reasons, we must make an exception and offer her an incentive she hopefully won't refuse."

Jacob shook his head and looked again at Marcus's corpse. The man with whom Jacob was learning to tend the guild's most sacred objects was now the catalyst for their exposure to the outside world. Fate had a funny way of being cruel at times, Jacob thought.

Scanning Marcus's body, Jacob noticed his simple garb. It was fitting that such great responsibilities befell such an unassuming man. Even the necklace found around Marcus's neck belied his true ascetic nature.

The necklace. It was gone. Jacob's heart sank as he scanned Marcus's neckline, then the room, then Augustus and Pascal for any indication where it might have gone.

Jacob started, "Marcus's necklace. Where is it?"

The two Elders glanced at Marcus, then each other, then at Jacob.

"We'll tend to it," Pascal said unalarmed, as though he and Augustus shared the same thought.

Jacob shook his head, "You know as well as I that necklace must be found."

"We'll tend to it," Augustus reiterated, maintaining his stoicism. "Now go."

In a final, complicit breath, Jacob prayed across Marcus's body, ushering him into the afterlife with love and apology. Without addressing the Elders, Jacob turned on his heels and bowed his head as he exited Marcus's chambers. There was no time to argue.

### Chapter 2

The smell of eggs and coffee spilled out of the kitchen and into the front room of the small apartment. In an oversized shirt and striped panties, Remy tended breakfast. Atop the stove, bacon spat and crackled. Flicking a spatula in the pan, she moved the food around to cook.

In the bedroom, Arthur stirred from his heavy slumber. The scent of breakfast wafting through the air made its way to his nose and enticed him to get up. Propping himself on an elbow, he wiped the sleep from his eyes.

Remy could hear the man in the next room. Taking two plates from the cupboard, she placed them on the small dining table. From the drawer beside her, she fished out silverware and set them on checkered napkins beside the plating.

Arthur stumbled into the kitchen, boxer-clad, and walked up to Remy, kissing the back of her neck. She smiled and continued to stir the breakfast. Moving to the table, Arthur pulled out a chair.

"Whatever it is you're doing in here, it smells delicious," he said, sitting.

Remy kept her head down, working. "Didn't your mom ever teach you to cook?"

"Well, yes, but my cooking isn't quite as good as when you make it."

Arthur was flattering her, Remy knew, but she took the compliment all the same. It wasn't often the two of them woke up together. It was even rarer that she cooked breakfast for her unusual guest.

"I was hungry. Don't get too comfortable," Remy chided, making sure Arthur understood this wasn't a typical treat.

"Sure, sure," he said, chuckling. "Last night, by the way." He trailed off.

Remy shook her head. As was often the result of meeting for a few very late drinks, Remy and Arthur's bout of intimacy the night before had been spur of the moment and fiery. They'd stumbled out of the bar next to midnight and before the twelve o'clock hour were both naked with each other viciously making love. It was enough to distract Remy, but with Arthur there seemed to be a part of her left unfulfilled.

Neither were the image of relationship material. Both were self-indulgent in their own personalities. If they weren't so consumed in the business of their lives, Remy thought, there might be a chance. But it wasn't something she pursued either.

"Last night was nice," Remy responded, keeping it short.

Arthur looked Remy over, "What? You don't agree."

"Of course I agree." Remy paused, resting her hands on the edge of the range and looking at the wall ahead. "I have things on my mind."

Arthur thought back to their impassioned conversation at the bar the night before. They had stayed long enough for Arthur to expose some details of his current work. He had done what he could to dodge Remy's unending questions, but he knew he'd given away more than he'd liked.

"It's the case I was telling you about, isn't it," Arthur said.

"Yes," Remy replied.

This was the problem of dating a Sergeant in the Police Guild. For a woman with Remy's amount of unquenchable curiosity, another unsolved mystery was the perfect excuse to be lost in thought. And Arthur often came through with material, inevitably bringing his work with him on their brief trysts together. Remy wasn't sure her excuse for sex with Arthur was more instinct or the part of her brain she couldn't turn off, the part continuously searching for adventure.

"You always do this." Arthur's tone came out flat.

Remy lifted her voice, agitated, "Always? That's a bit strong. You know as well as I that I was raised to seek, to find."

The Watchers had instilled in Remy a serious sense of duty – it was true of all recruits brought into the specialized guild.

"Yes, but seriously," Arthur quipped.

Remy thought for a second, waiting for the agitation to subside, then continued, "If you didn't want me to know, you wouldn't have mentioned it."

"That wouldn't have mattered. You'd have found out anyway." Arthur sounded exasperated. Even in Remy's exile, she had proven she had access to communication and resource channels considered off limits. Although disconnected from the Watchers, Remy was still a formidable force on her own. Part of Arthur didn't want to know how she maintained her intel and personal armory, even as a police officer. His lack of prodding was an unspoken rule in their relationship, he imagined. Remy provided him off-the-record help and he, in turn, offered a blind eye to her law-skirting methodologies.

"True." Remy gave a smug grin. "Have some coffee. Food's done."

Arthur stood and moved to the coffee machine. It's copper gearing whirred as the heating element kept the liquid warm. Pressing a button, the device clicked and released its clasp around the steel vessel. Grabbing a few cups from the drying rack Arthur gripped the spun metal handle of the coffee pot and poured two drinks.

"This case is big," Arthur said, a dark expression clouding his face.

"You mentioned." Remy took plates from the table and plucked the bacon from its pan. She followed with eggs and arranged them neatly together on the dishes. "Spirit Guild. The senior clergy are starting to meet their makers."

Remy slid the plates onto the table and pulled her chair to sit down.

Arthur chimed in, "That's one way of putting it. So far there have been two deaths. All well known and high-ranking clergy. Our current information is very, uh, limited. And whoever is responsible is thorough, thorough enough to elude traces. We're having a rough time at the precinct figuring this one out."

Remy popped a piece of bacon into her mouth and chewed. The savory, rich flavor crept across her palette. Unfazed by Arthur's remarks, she went on, "You're a big boy. I'm sure you can hash it out."

Arthur brought a bite of eggs to his mouth and paused, "Tess is with me on this one."

"Who?" Remy scanned her memory, trying to connect a face to a name. She drew a genuine blank, surprised.

"She's primary investigator on the case, my right-hand man-, I mean woman. Sorry."

"Never heard of her," Remy confessed.

"I'm not surprised. She's out of Central, one of the homicide task force units. The whole case has been escalated. She comes highly recommended. We seem to be working out together so far."

"If you say so." Remy kept her expression in check. For the most part, she didn't care about who worked on the cases at the precinct, insomuch as they didn't make her work more complicated.

Familiar with most everyone on the police force, Remy had an awareness about the workload the officers could handle. Magna's Police Guild was an excellent group, in Remy's opinion. Hearing Arthur tell her the police were coming up short was enough to make Remy wonder.

Arthur continued, "It's not like I have a choice. I may be a Sergeant, but I'm not in charge this time, I don't get to pick my crew."

"They'll put anyone as a lead investigator now, won't they?" Remy laughed, smirking.

Arthur shrugged off her playfulness. "Lee's calling the shots on this one."

Remy hailed back to the times she had worked alongside the Chief of Police. A short, grisly man, flecks of white and gray in his hair showing of recent, Lee was the quintessential career man. "That old dog? Can't bring himself to leave his post, eh."

Years of servitude as protectorate of the city had hardened a man Remy wasn't sure ever began as soft. Lee's deep brow lines showed the story of a thousand wrapped cases. His crisply pressed shirts and slacks, replete with obligatory suspenders, reminded Remy of the typecast actors destined to play the same roles their entire lives. In Lee's case, among the difficult decisions and procedural hell wearing him into the rock he was today, Remy could still see the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes that came from a job well done.

If there was anyone Remy wanted at the top, it was a man like Lee.

Arthur shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of coffee, "He won't retire and he won't join Central. Here until he dies, I guess."

"It's his life's work. You don't need to prove your worth to anyone but yourself. Lee's done a good job and I think he knows it. It makes sense to me."

"Well, if I were him, I would have moved on long ago. With the amount of time he's been with the police he could be a Superintendent at Central by now!" Arthur's enthusiasm showed, his thoughts turning to the lifestyle afforded by the upper echelons of the guild system.

"I'm just saying, some people know where they're needed," Remy chimed.

"Well, I think if you get a chance, and I mean a good one, you take it."

"Maybe," Remy said mindfully. She could see Arthur's excitement at the prospect of promotion.

There was a distinction, Remy considered, between those who were confident and comfortable in their work, and those with the restlessness to move on. She couldn't help but see Arthur as the latter, trying to fill a hole dug deep with time. For Remy, progressing through the guild ranks was one way to measure success, but not the only. Rather, Remy understood the sense of joy that came from staying focused and mastering one's work in time. This was a topic on which she and Arthur wouldn't see eye to eye.

Remy continued, "But maybe it's a case like this that keeps Lee coming back for more?" She thought for a moment then continued. "Why is he leading this case anyway?"

It was uncommon for Lee, or any Chief, to be tasked with a case on the ground.

"Did he finally get wind of your competency?" Remy laughed.

Arthur looked at her. "Ha. Ha. Funny. Like I said, this one is serious, very high profile. The Spirit Guild is the biggest guild in Magna! Commands on high have issued a gag order and no public disclosure."

"So, Lee has to put himself out there. Poor guy."

"Central's orders."

"Of course. At least you have a man with experience by your side. Good thing Lee hasn't off and gotten another job, right?"

Arthur felt the sting of Remy's comment. He'd put his foot in his mouth. Swallowing his words, he went on. "I'm glad he's with us."

Remy took a long sip from her cup and put it back on the table. "Let's hope your new recruit stands up to the test."

"Tess?" Arthur felt the need to defend his companion. "She's no Watcher, but she's good. Let's just say whoever we're tracking is hard to follow, to say the least. Tess has picked up the few pieces they've left behind."

"Like what?" Remy challenged Arthur. Constantly test what you know, that was the game.

Arthur looked up from his breakfast, nearly finished, "You know I can't tell you that. It's classified."

"You've practically turned state's evidence, don't hold out on me now," Remy leaned back in her chair and let out a raucous laugh. Arthur bowed his head, frustrated by Remy's indignant nature.

Remy played, "Ah, c'mon Arthur. Tess may be good, but you know who you're talking to."

"I do, which is why I can't say anything," replied Arthur. He'd let slip enough details already about the investigation.

"Harsh." Remy looked to the side, over the sink counter, and out the small window to the city beyond. From the fourth story she could see just above Magna's various districts to the horizon beyond. Below, the maze of piping that lined the shops and buildings pumped with life, gauges and valves peppering their twists and turns. Although skyscrapers cut through the view, jutting into the clouds, Remy could make out the faint blue of the distant ocean and its salty haziness. "I wish you guys the best of luck. Sounds like you might need it."

Arthur finished the rest of his plate, "We'll be fine. Besides, if I could bring help in, I would. We both know you're out of bounds."

"Excuse me?" Remy was jolted from the conversation by Arthur's comment.

"You know what I'm saying, I don't make the rules. The Police Guild can't contract with non-guild members anyway. And you are, well, you know..."

Arthur stopped short and sat up at Remy's scathing glare.

"Don't bring that up with me." Remy snarled.

"What? Your exile? Everybody knows." Arthur backed into his chair, throwing his hands up in a show of blamelessness.

"So, you think this is some trivial thing?" Remy raised her voice, putting her fist on the table. She couldn't believe Arthur's insensitivity. Even if he didn't understand her position, Remy wasn't going to tolerate his casual nature on the subject. He had no privilege to talk about her trauma in a manner like this, and in her house no less. The more she thought about it, the more she became livid.

"No. I- I-." Arthur stumbled over his words. He knew he'd struck a deep nerve.

Remy spoke loudly, "Wait until you get framed, thrown in jail, then removed from everything you know and love! It was my life Arthur! My life! And now I can't go back. In fact, I can't go anywhere. Do you know what that feels like?"

Arthur didn't. Exile was a cruel punishment, but he couldn't speak from a place of understanding. He searched for words of support, finding none.

"I can't go anywhere!" Remy stifled the tears forming at her eyes, angry that a man she didn't even care that much about could touch her so personally. "I'm banned. I have no status. I have no recourse. Guilds can't accept me as a member. How about you give it a try for a while, then we can talk about what everybody knows!"

"Look, I was just saying-." Arthur tried to salvage what little he could from the fast deteriorating conversation.

"You have no idea what you're saying. I thought you'd at least be more aware. More sensitive to the fact. Clearly not!" Remy realized she was standing over the table and yelling. With a deep breath, she paused and composed herself. Taking a seat, she ran a hand over her hair and crossed her legs.

"I'm sorry Remy. I didn't mean to hurt you." Arthur's words traveled through the room, searching for a place to land.

"You can think about that on your way out." Remy said nodding to the front room.

"Remy," Arthur looked at her in forgiveness.

Remy pointed to the door, finished.

"Fine." Arthur wiped his mouth with the napkin and threw it on the plate, kicking back his chair in anger. Walking to the bedroom, he threw on his shirt and slacks. Tying his shoes, he stood up and flung his blazer over his shoulder. He snatched his guild-issued pistol from the nightstand and holstered it at his chest.

Arthur looked at Remy one last time as he paused by the front door. She looked beautiful with her lightly curled hair tousled about her shoulders. The oversized shirt Remy wore fell over her slender frame, only enhancing her femininity.

Arthur was pissed he'd made her unhappy, watching as she stared coolly into the distance. But he couldn't console Remy now, not on this issue. The scope of it was too grand, too fresh to fit into this morning's conversation. With Remy's passion, especially on important topics, it was important to be careful. Arthur shook his head.

The door slammed shut and Remy sat pensive at the table, alone.

### Chapter 3

After the morning fallout with Arthur, Remy cleared her mind and turned her attention to the disheveled living space. Her apartment was a mess. Clothes from the night before blanketed the bedroom. Dirty dishes were fast accumulating in the sink and, above all, Remy needed a good, long shower.

Sashaying around the tiny quarters, she set to task. Pulling at the linens, Remy folded and tucked the bed neatly into place, crisping the lines and flattening the wrinkles. Throwing the last of the clothes in the hamper, she considered the kitchen, then instead settled on a good rinse.

Remy cranked the shower to hot. At the sink, she plucked her toothbrush from the countertop and squeezed a thick line of toothpaste from its aluminum tubing. A nice, refreshing cleanse, then the day was hers. Remy began brushing, white foam growing at the edges of her mouth.

'Ding-dong!' The doorbell rang out through the apartment.

Damn it! Remy thought. Arthur had the nerve to come back so soon, that dog? She spat the paste into the sink and swished water to clear her mouth. Turning, she paused at the running shower. Letting out a sigh, Remy turned the water off. She didn't have time to deal with Arthur's inconsiderateness, but limits were limits. Striding to the front room, she flung the door wide open.

Before her, in full clerical robes, a man Remy had never met before stood with his hands clasped together hidden beneath the long cloth at the front of his garb. White and yellow colors intertwined the length of his wardrobe and an eight-sided mortar board hat of similar pattern covered his short, hazel hair. He wore an expression as metered as his crisp attire.

On the other side of the doorway, Remy stood half-dressed, still in the oversized tee and underwear from the night before.

"Oh my God," she started.

Jacob kept Remy's gaze.

Remy stuttered, "That's not what I meant!" Bringing a hand up to her mouth, she hoped her embarrassment wasn't obvious. Nothing like nakedness and blasphemy to start a morning conversation with a priest.

Jacob continued smiling, staying calm. "Don't be alarmed. I assure you I am not offended."

"I'll be right back. Just a minute." Remy excused herself and shut the door, leaning her back against the cool wood once it closed. Goodness, she thought.

Running to her bedroom, Remy threw off the shirt and fished for a bra and top. Bouncing around the room she bolted into the closet for pants. An old pair of jeans would have to do. Pulling them up, Remy skipped back to the door to open it.

With patience, Jacob continued to stand just outside her apartment.

"I'm so sorry. Please come in Father." Remy offered, moving to the side.

"Thank you. My time as a priest was long ago, however. I haven't led mass for years. I'm more of an executive now for my guild, you might say." Jacob moved into the entryway of Remy's apartment.

"I see." she said, rubbing her chin. "So, what should I call you then?"

"My name is Jacob. Jacob Faraday, one of the sitting Archbishops for the Scholaric Order in Magna's Spirit Guild."

Jacob smiled, a row of brilliant white teeth showing between his full, parted lips. The kindness in his face was refreshing and calm. Bright, green eyes shone from below his gentle brow. Remy noted the small, almost imperceptible wrinkles lining his forehead and the gentle dimple of his chin.

Shutting the door behind Jacob, Remy waved her arm toward the pair of facing brown leather couches in the front room. "Please, take a seat," Remy gestured.

"Thank you." Jacob moved to the sofa and sat down. Removing his cap, he rested it on the low glass-topped table between the furniture. Jacob noted the antiqueness of Remy's quarters. Earthy hues and a worn, broken-in façade gave the space a comfortable, lived-in feel.

Remy clasped her hands and gestured toward the kitchen. "Would you like anything? I've just made coffee."

"I appreciate it, but no." Jacob smiled though his voice trailed off. "I'm in a rush unfortunately. Please, will you come join me?" He gestured to the seat opposite his.

Remy eyed her guest, trying to discern his purpose for being here. Though the nature of Jacob's visit wasn't clear, his serene manner did well to convey no ill-intent. Still, Remy was cautious. She settled down onto the couch and adjusted on its smooth surface, coming eye to eye with the Archbishop.

"I-, I hope I didn't surprise you there, at the door," Jacob offered.

"I should say the same. You know, with temptation and all that." Remy joked as she gestured to herself, making light of the first impression.

Jacob appreciated her directness. "Many in my order have taken a vow of chasteness, but such a choice is not dictated by the church. Most believe men and women of my guild are bound by structure. In fact, it is of our choosing whether or not to avoid certain-."

"Worldly pleasures?" Remy couldn't help but interrupt Jacob's thought, even if it wasn't the direction he was steering the conversation.

Jacob let out a soft chuckle. "Let's just say I find great strength in the freedom of making my own choices."

Remy's wrinkled her nose. "I wouldn't consider the church the first place to go if it's freedom of choice I'm looking for." The words came out on their own and Remy hadn't intended to be offensive, even if she believed what she said. "I'm sorry Jacob. I didn't-."

"Not at all." Jacob waved off the comment with his hand. He noted how often many people misunderstood the Spirit Guild and its design. At least, they didn't see it the way he did.

The Spirit Guild was as diverse as any other guild in Magna and housed a wide array of faiths. From Hermitics to Scholarics and every belief system in between, the guild sought to accommodate the broadest forms of spirituality. This being the case, there was no singular spiritual practice deemed an official representation of the church. Indeed, the Spirit Guild honored the notion of many gods to many followers. It was the egalitarian existence of multiple belief systems that allowed the Spirit Guild to succeed where many disparate houses of faith before had fallen.

Peering at Remy now, it wasn't the first time Jacob had met a skeptic. He'd seen the steely edge of reason rear its shiny blade against his life's work many times. But it was difficult to convey, at least in a single meeting, that any member of the Spirit Guild could seek for themselves whatever it was spirituality meant to them. Today though, this wouldn't be the topic of conversation.

"How can I help?" Remy offered.

"I'm not sure how to put this delicate matter." Jacob's face clouded.

"It'd be tough to shock me Mr. Faraday. If you're here, I assume it's for a reason. Please, go ahead." Remy sat back and rested an arm over the edge of the couch. The shiny copper studs around the perimeter of the workmanship felt cool against her skin.

"Murder," Jacob said bluntly.

Remy's thoughts immediately wheeled back to her and Arthur moments earlier in the morning and the ongoing case they'd discussed. Remy dug deep into her memory, doing her best to pull the details she knew about the Spirit Guild together. Sitting forward, she said under her breath, "Murder is quite a delicate matter. Go on."

"Marcus, one of our most revered Elders and my mentor of sorts, was found this morning with a knife in his back, dead in the middle of his small Citadel apartment. And, I will confess, he's not the first to meet his fate. This is the third of our senior clergy killed this month."

"I see," Remy responded. Jacob's words were a revelation. Clearly Arthur, Lee, and Tess were struggling to piece this matter together. Here, a member of the Spirit Guild was bold enough to visit Remy at her home on a guild matter. She continued, "And why are you giving me all this information so freely?"

"Please, you must listen. There is a police investigation underway, but it has been exceedingly quiet. The Police Guild issued a stay of silence to us senior guild members and we are not permitted to speak about the case. In fact, coming to you is already a breach of our cooperation with this investigation. But the problem lies in the lack of results. So far, the Police Guild have produced nothing for their work! And yet we in the Spirit Guild stand idly by watching our brothers and sisters die."

"And I'm a way around that," Remy shot back as soon as Jacob finished.

Keenly aware of Remy's exile status, Jacob responded. "Yes, I'm afraid. We mean to put you in no jeopardy."

It would've been an easier conversation if Remy had the flexibility to work outside the confines of the citizen population. Her exile, as with all others exiled, put her at the very bottom of the Magna's system. If castes existed, Remy would be at the lowest, both untouchable and unable to receive guild support.

And guilds ruled Magna. Like all other cities on the continent, Magna was no exception in the significance of its guild system. Guilds equaled life. They pervaded society like habits pervaded one's existence. They were part and parcel of everyday routine, created millennia ago as the formative transformation between barbaric townships and civilized megacities.

From bakers to gear forgers, mail workers to steam manufacturers, each group of individuals with a specialized task was in some way represented by their respective guild. Guilds allowed access to resources, social networks, and education not afforded those citizens who didn't or couldn't possess guild membership. And entry into guild membership typically meant a simple test or application.

One exception to the rule of application came from the Watcher Guild. For most, the notion of joining such an elite group would best be forgotten. The Watcher Guild held no reviews or entrance exams. They accepted newcomers by invitation only. You were selected, you didn't select them.

And alongside the presence of guilds came those citizens who fell outside the system too, individuals like Remy. If a citizen wasn't inclined or perhaps unable to join a guild, their livelihood was almost always diminished. Jobs for the guild-less were menial and repetitive at best. Some subsistence living support came from the Central Guild, the city's governing body, but those resources were inconsistent and bundled with their fair share of bureaucracy.

Yet, as tough as times could be, Remy had carved a niche for herself. She was too capable, too strong, and too determined to fall by the wayside. She had built a practice serving the guild-less like herself, providing personalized investigative services under the legal radar. It was an extension of who she was, something not easily given up, and it carried her now as it had before. It was something she could rely on. She had, in her own way, defied the odds exacted by exile. She needed food on the table at the end of the day anyway.

But Remy wasn't without her sense of street smarts. As illegal as it was – and it meant significant jail time should she be caught – she took the odd guild job. There were those in guilds, like Jacob, who understood Remy was a worthy investment.

Always working under the table, the odd job helped Remy acquire the things she couldn't get her hands on otherwise including tools, personal contacts, and perhaps most importantly, information. The guilds Remy worked with knew she was off limits, but she was and continued to be a prodigal Watcher, an attractive resource. Her problem solving went unparalleled and both Remy and the guilds who sought her out delicately skirted the law in their dealings. It was one of the reasons she had become so close to Arthur. Arthur's vague awareness and willingness to turn a blind eye were paramount to Remy's ability to conduct off-the-books aspects of her business.

But some jobs were too much a thorn to take, Remy imagined. Murder or not, the Spirit Guild would have to find someone else to pick up the police's slack. Remy wasn't interested in the risk.

"I'm sorry, I truly am. But a case like this is hot. Too hot. With the Police Guild breathing hush orders down your neck and keeping this under heavy wraps, I'm not keen on getting stuck in the middle," Remy resolutely announced.

Jacob continued looking at her in anticipation.

Remy could tell Jacob wasn't ready to budge. She continued, "If you've come to me, you should know my involvement with guilds is forbidden. I didn't ask for it this way, you realize. It comes with the territory."

"Your position is of no consequence to my house. The threat of death, not just of my brethren, but of my entire guild, grows closer every day. We know who you are Remy and we need your help."

"As much as I like a good mystery Mr. Faraday, I can't do it. And if you'll pardon me saying, I don't think you'd consider me a woman of the cloth." Remy moved to continue her tidying, hoping to encourage her guest to take his leave.

Jacob dropped his hands. He lowered his voice and spoke slow and direct to Remy's turned back. "If you help us, we can help you."

Remy let out a soft sound of exasperation. "Help me?" she said. "I need a lot more than help, let me tell you."

Jacob continued with the same resonating tone. "We can help you with your exile."

The hair on the back of Remy's neck stood. What could this messenger of the church do to help her? He was just a holy man, she imagined. Miracles couldn't be bought. Nonetheless, the hint of redemption caught Remy's attention.

"Go on," Remy said.

"We have access to information I believe you need. Information that will shed light on your exile, undoubtedly. Information sacred to the Spirit Guild and, in honesty, unavailable elsewhere."

What was Jacob talking about? Remy knew this town like the back of her hand, up until her imprisonment. Perhaps this was a bluff, but if Remy had learned anything from her time on the beat it was never leave a rock unturned. It just might shelter the clue she was looking for.

"Is that so?" she said.

Jacob went on. "It is forbidden to mention this much to anyone outside our inner sanctum, let alone a person in as unfortunate a position as yours. Very few have access to what I speak of and my brothers and I are willing to share this with you, if you can stem our bleeding."

"And all I have to do is come with you?"

"Yes, we have no choice."

"How do I know what you're offering is worth the risk?" Doubt coursed through Remy's being.

"You must have faith."

### Chapter 4

The Citadel stood near the city center, a towering white monolith reaching far into the heavens. White alabaster sheathed the building's every surface, save for few balconies scattered about. Tucked away into the folds of the architecture, Remy noticed copper piping and fittings integrated into the design. Without these pieces of steam tubing, the Citadel would be rendered powerless.

Remy's small equipment satchel swung by her side as she entered the Citadel's grand foyer. Great oak doors, several stories tall, sat propped open giving a grandiose, omnipotent feel to the already massive proportions of the building. A variety of exotic plants and flowers lined the entrance hallway as it led forward to the first of a series of large antechambers. Underfoot, the slick flooring had been polished to a shine reflective enough to see muted colors of aging frescoes on the ceiling above.

Impressive, Remy thought. An intriguing mixture of the contemporary and historic. She wondered how much money it took to fund a place like this.

To her side, Jacob walked a few steps behind, trying to keep pace with the focused detective. His stride was broken at times to bid hello to the parishioners who occupied the area, shaking hands and waving.

"Popular, aren't we?" Remy quipped.

"They are my flock. I can't ignore them." Jacob returned.

The two continued toward the antechamber, turning right down a hall before reaching its broad opening. As the passageway narrowed, the bright sunlight that had filtered in through the front doors was replaced by the soft yellow lighting of incandescent bulbs. Remy could hear the rush of steam running through the exposed piping and turning the small elements that powered the fixtures overhead.

Remy and Jacob continued until finally arriving at a set of elevators. A switch pad mounted between them gave the option of either up or down.

Jacob turned to Remy. "The murder. Please help us Ms. Stone, if you can."

Remy looked back at Jacob, "We'll see. Let's keep going."

Jacob punched the up switch and a rush of steam ran through the walls.

Remy and Jacob traveled for what seemed an eternity before arriving at the fifty-second floor. "Everything fifty and above belongs to the senior clergy," Jacob explained as they'd entered the elevator. He'd fished a small set of keys from his pocket and clicked one of them into a lock in the elevator door before pressing their floor number.

Now, the two jogged down a long circular corridor lined with doors to living quarters on one side. On the other, long slender windows filtered in sunlight and Remy could see the city extending out far away. The buildings below appeared like shoots of grass, small edifices growing in a variety of heights. Remy tried recalling the last time she'd seen the city from such a striking vantage point.

"Here," Jacob said as they slowed, approaching one of the unmarked doors. Again, he fished out his keys. A whoosh ran through the interior of the door as he undid the lock. Somewhere deep within, Jacob braced for the scene he'd left not much earlier in the morning.

Marcus's body lay there, face down, his head turned to the side. The open-mouthed, wide-eyed expression suggested fear, or perhaps surprised disbelief. Hands and fingers had turned to tight claws giving the appearance as though the corpse was crawling away, some ghostly threat encouraging it onward. With one arm stretched above his head, the man's white robes were now mostly red from the amount of blood he'd lost. Remy noted the broad knife buried deep in Marcus's back.

Standing on the opposite side of the room looking acutely affected, two elderly men also in full church regalia - one significantly more adorned than the other – noticed Jacob and Remy's entrance.

Spurred by instinct, Remy rushed without thought to the body's side and set her satchel down. Time was always of the essence in dealing with the dead.

"What happened here?" Remy asked, not looking up.

"We don't know," said the elder in the ornate attire. Remy glanced up noticing the man's many gold rings, jeweled robes, and cap.

"And who are you?" Remy shot back. Releasing the clasp, she flipped back the leather casing of her satchel. Unfolding like a book, the bag exposed an assortment of many fine tools and implements. From its contents, she slid out a magnifying glass from its holster and brought it to her cheek.

The man Remy questioned spoke. "I'm Augustus. My colleague beside me is Pascal. We are Elders."

Remy leaned far over the pool of blood. It was almost dry. Running the magnifying glass over the extents of the corpse's arms, Remy noticed the telltale purple lining of lividity on the skin. Blood had settled, drawn down by gravity, and turned the color of the skin. Remy also noted a bluish tint in the corpse's hands.

"Elders?" She asked.

"Yes. We, amongst our other brothers and sisters, run this guild."

"How many are there in your position?" Remy continued pouring over the body.

Augustus observed Remy's deliberate scanning, "There is one Elder for each religious sect represented within our guild. But that number varies from city to city. Here, in Magna, we have quite a few sects and thus have many Elders."

Remy considered Augustus's words. In this small room, alongside her, two senior Elders and a young Archbishop stood over an unreported murder. From the relatively calm congregation downstairs Remy concluded the parishioners weren't aware of the gory scene high above the antechamber. And, according to Jacob, only certain Spirit Guild Elders were being targeted in the murders.

Remy returned the magnifying glass to her bag and took a long, thin metal pointer mounted beside it. "When was the body found?"

"Early this morning." Augustus' tone was derisive and annoyed. Impatience played in his fidgety movements as he crossed his arms and turned away.

"By who?" Remy held the fine rod like a pencil and placed the end of it under one of the corpse's hands. Gently she pushed against the insides of its fingers, trying to work them open. The tension against the rod was firm, making it difficult to uncurl the fist.

"By me." Augustus turned back and looked down at Remy.

Setting the metal tool on the ground, Remy reached into her satchel and pulled out a tiny bound notebook. She unwrapped the string clasp and opened its cover, taking the pen from a holder within. Quickly, Remy glanced at her watch and wrote: 'Current time – 11:45AM. Time of death between four to eight hours earlier. Rigor mortis in early to moderate stages. Lividity and bluing of extremities present.'

The victim looked to be in his mid to late seventies. A small man in stature, Remy estimated him to be no more than five-foot six-inches or so. Thin and frail, he didn't appear as someone to fend off an attacker. Then again, it didn't look to her like there was much of a fight. She pulled a vial and small collecting spoon from her bag.

"And how did each of you know this man?" Taking the small utensil, Remy scraped at the drying pool of blood and clinked it back and forth into the glass tube.

Pascal broke from his silence. "Marcus was a very dear friend. A man who dedicated his life to the servitude of others and very respected in his sect. I have known him for years."

Jacob nodded and followed Pascal's comments. "He was one of the eldest leaders, quiet and shy, but extremely diligent and unfaltering in his details. He was a threat to no one. And for all intents and purposes he'd retired, except for a few duties around the guild."

With Remy's head down, Pascal and Augustus shot Jacob a menacing glare.

"What duties were those?" Remy continued to focus as she collected blood samples.

Jacob backpedalled nervously. "Just simple tasks, you know. Some advisory work to show his continuing participation in the church. Sometimes he'd review our religious documents."

"I see." Remy picked up on the timorous uncertainty in Jacob's voice. She reminded herself to come back to him about it when she had the chance, when the two of them had a moment to be alone. She looked to Augustus and Pascal, "Did Marcus know anyone that would try to hurt him?"

"Absolutely not." Pascal announced.

"He didn't anger anyone recently or make any enemies?" Remy returned.

"I don't know a soul who would say he'd ever been in their bad graces. He was a loved figure by all."

Remy furrowed her brow and put her hand to her chin, staring at the scene before her. This wasn't a quiet murder, the vicious impalement of the victim and grim aftermath a clear sign of it. But by the same logic, the kill was done with certain grace. To the untrained eye it would seem a vicious, thoughtless stabbing, but Remy saw more.

To her, there was no sign of struggle, nor was there any indication the body had been tampered with after the attack had been committed. Marcus's body lay square in the middle of the room, as though he had known it was coming, anticipating his horrendous fate, and succumbing to it.

Remy put away the vial and returned the notebook to her hands. She wrote, 'No sign of struggle. Large knife set two-thirds up and into victim's back. Appears to have penetrated between ribs. Heavy loss of blood. Probable cause of death: aortic rupture - puncture of main artery to the heart.'

If Remy's hunches were right, whoever had set the blade into Marcus's back was expert. The large pool of blood indicated severe arterial disruption. The victim most likely had bled out rapidly having no time to move from where he had been assaulted. Should her suspicions be correct, only a deft and strong blow of incredible accuracy could be cause for a death of this type and with this weapon.

For a man who had no enemies and had never hurt anyone, this certainly wasn't the way Marcus was meant to die. A message was clearly being sent. Remy shut her notebook and tied it closed. Standing, she scanned the configuration of the dead body. "And the Police Guild?"

"Nothing, the bastards." Augustus looked at Pascal and huffed.

Remy noted the Elder's gruff manner and turned to him, "I hope you realize I'm not here with great interest. In fact, my very presence at this scene jeopardizes my position, as it appears you all know. Yet Jacob said you can provide me something of personal interest for help wrapping this case. Look, I'm not here to make friends, no offense. But please understand without your cooperation, my job gets a lot harder."

Augustus narrowed his eyes and spoke, begrudgingly. "We understand young lady."

Remy quickly followed. "And remember, I can leave anytime."

Pascal interrupted, hoping his words didn't fall on covered ears. "Let the woman work Augustus. We called her here for a reason."

Marcus's body, splayed on the floor as it was, appeared to Remy like a man in need of closure. His curled hands suggested movement, an attempt at grasping something beyond his resting place. Remy followed the line of Marcus's posture. It reached across the barren room and ended at the desk sitting in a corner. Moving around the body, Remy headed toward it.

Moments like these, following the trail into the unknown, raised Remy's pulse. Working with citizens was one thing – the basic nature of a stolen knick-knack or an unwanted solicitation more mundane than exhilarating. But working among guilds was a whole other animal, the sheer scale of adventure exponentially greater. Remy could feel the purposed, trained duty of a Watcher guiding her like a dog on the scent of prey. As cautious as she needed to be, excitement still teased at her belly.

Remy arrived at the desk, a simple writing stand with four wooden legs and a thick top. She noticed a single drawer fixed below its surface. The chair next to it sat cocked to the side as though someone was either just sitting or rising from the spot. Digging into her jacket, Remy pulled a pair of fine leather gloves from inside and slipped them on.

The drawer opened smoothly, fine craftsmanship apparent in the silkiness of the movement. Expecting to find an abundance of contents, Remy was surprised that only several spare pens and few hand-written pieces of paper lay inside. All appeared untouched. Pushing the pens away, she slid the papers between her fingers and carefully took them from their resting place.

Fine penmanship ran the entirety of the expertly crafted documents. Briefly scanning the contents Remy noticed the legal nature of the language. At the bottom of the final page beside a large wax seal were a set of words in a language she'd never seen before; _Ostex Xostm_. They appeared scrawled as a hasty afterthought or notation. The scratchy ink didn't match the metered, deliberate words lined out and written on the rest of the pages.

"And these?" Remy asked still facing the desk and holding the papers up over her shoulder.

Jacob walked across to the room and stopped by her side. He reached up and gently pulled the papers from her hand. Looking them over he shook his head.

"They look to be contracts. We use them in our partnerships with other guilds and Marcus helped us tailor them when we needed changes made. Is there something of interest?"

Remy plucked the papers back out of Jacob's hand and returned them to the drawer, careful not to draw attention to the scribbled phrase she'd noticed.

"You should be thoughtful about what you touch. You wouldn't want to become a murder suspect now, would you?" Remy smirked.

Jacob glanced at Remy's gloved hands, then at his bare ones, and swallowed hard.

"My goodness, you're right," Jacob breathed in with a sharp hiss and shifted uncomfortably.

Remy chuckled under her breath and turned to face the two elders in the room who stared at her, waiting. Augustus's impatient movements juxtaposed starkly against Pascal's composed and measured manner.

Walking up to the opposite side of Marcus's body, Remy folded her arms and scanned the men. Their differences in appearance were as obvious as their demeanor. Pascal's darker, muted robes folded into themselves, soft colors full and supple. The simple dark blue and yellow sash knotted at the waist kept the material from billowing forward and falling to the ground. Remy noted the uniqueness of Pascal's appearance came from the way the heavy cloth was expertly and purposefully tucked away. It reminded her of an intricate origami figure.

By contrast, Augustus's neatly pressed robes were overflowing with gilding and accents of all kinds. Gold, purple, and red threading seemed interwoven into all aspects of his garb. Even the shoulder epaulets weren't spared in their decoration as intricate designs poured forth and down the sleeves, accenting Augustus's fine features. Rings and bracelets of extravagant metals flashed in the light as he rapped his fingers at the crooks of his elbows. The emblem of a large gem was displayed prominently on his similarly adorned hat as it sat cocked to one side on his head.

Remy broke the silence. "Augustus, tell me, you like fine things I see."

"That depends. If it's my appearance you're referring to, my clothing is purely ceremonial. It's part of my house's way."

"I see. Well if that's the case, why is your friend here wearing such a unique necklace and you aren't?" Remy gestured with a nod toward Pascal's neck. The exposed locket, held by a thin golden string, sat amongst the folded robes of the Elder. Its intricate pattern encircled a sunken inner design with small jewels inlaid throughout. It appeared hand-made and Remy imagined the time it must have taken to carve.

Augustus's face turned a bright shade of pink as he narrowed his eyebrows. His impatient composition was quickly turning into visible agitation. The words sputtered as they left his mouth. "Have you any idea to what you're referring? You don't! It's not part of my obligations to wear such a sacred object. I don't wish to carry the responsibilities to which my fellow clergy men have dedicated their lives in that necklace."

Remy stood unfazed as she watched the Elder breathe in heavy exasperation. Remy was here to help solve a murder, not participate in whatever infighting might be brought upon by this piece of jewelry. She looked Augustus in the eye and continued, "Meaning what?"

Pascal spoke up and answered for Augustus, "Meaning necklaces such as these are passed on to a special few. Those who have volunteered to protect the Spirit Guild and keep the essence of our faith alive."

"Very romantic," Remy quipped. "But that explanation doesn't provide the kind of information I need to make progress on a murder case. No offense, but I need things to be a little less abstract."

"No offense taken. However, I speak the truth. These are tokens of great responsibility and I wear mine proudly."

Remy glanced between Pascal and Augustus checking their faces for signs of something she might have missed. But the expressions gave nothing away, hardened from decades of practiced stoicism. The two Elders were stonewalling, Remy knew it. They were keeping her at an arm's length. She stowed her dissatisfaction and bent down to look once again at the dead body.

"I highly recommend you contact the police as soon as possible. The longer you wait, the less information they'll have to go on. They can cover more ground than I can." Remy said coolly.

"Yes, yes," Augustus grumbled. "We have every intention of notifying those Police Guild slugs."

"The sooner they get here, the better the evidence they'll have. I'm only one person."

"But you are who we need," Jacob broke in, looking Remy square in the eye. She could see the desperateness in his gaze, the silent pleading he conveyed in a glance. Remy understood his message. The Police Guild was a team, but Remy was a force. Jacob saw through her modesty. Somewhere within her a compassionate chord struck. She turned away from Jacob's stare and began to put her equipment back in her satchel.

Remy heard as Pascal and Augustus turned to each other and whispered in punctuated tones. Watching the Elder reach into one of his pockets, Remy saw Pascal fish out a coin and slip it into Augustus's hand.

Augustus turned and walked to the door in the room, unlocking the deadbolt. As the steam exited the mechanism Augustus turned his head once more to the scene behind him and spoke.

"I hope our decision to contact you was the correct one. Right now, I'm not so sure."

Carefully, Augustus cracked open the door and slid out. Hissing once more, the door's internals clicked about as the lock reengaged.

Standing, Remy threw the satchel's band over her shoulder and settled it by her side. Taking a moment to survey the room one final time she steadied her sight upon Pascal.

"This is a scary time for your guild, to be sure, but I'll be in contact. Have patience." Remy offered.

"Indeed. Thank you," Pascal nodded.

"You're welcome." Remy turned toward the door. "Jacob, will you show me out?"

### Chapter 5

_Ostex Xostm_.

The words played in Remy's mind as she and Jacob walked down the curving ivory corridor. Of all the information she'd gathered during her investigation, those words haunted her most. The phrase's ephemeral nature teased at the recesses of her lexical knowledge, eluding capture.

Perhaps it was a sub-language of Latin? Remy wondered. The words had a similar feel but were disjointed and broken like sharp edges of glass. Some deconstructed regional dialect perhaps, if in fact it was a language. Remy's loss at its meaning bothered her.

To her side, Jacob walked with an even stride, staring ahead and appearing lost in thought, unaware of his surroundings. His clasped hands were concealed in front of him, covered by the long sleeves of his robes. Remy wondered what distant thoughts fleeted through his mind. By any measure, she knew the murderous threat to the Spirit Guild was a difficult prospect for such a prone and underequipped group of people to handle.

"Ugly case. I'm sorry Jacob."

Remy's words cut through Jacob's fog and he stopped walking, pausing for a moment. When he finally spoke, his calm composure took Remy by surprise.

"Fate and faith have a funny way of being tied together Ms. Stone." Jacob replied, his gaze unwavering, locked on some far-off place. "But if it were at all possible to shelter my people from this evil, I would gladly sacrifice myself for their safety."

"Of course. You have an obligation."

Jacob responded without hesitation, "It's not obligation that would see myself a martyr. It's care and concern. I would give myself unconditionally to stop whatever madness has gripped my house. I believe it in my core. It is not about duty, it is about compassion."

Jacob's pained expression struck Remy. Here was a man ready to die for his belief, not because he must, but because he wanted to. In Remy's work, not many she encountered were willing to put their life on the line for their principles.

"Be careful what you wish for Mr. Faraday. Those who desire ruin upon your guild would be more than happy to see your offer through."

Jacob nodded slowly in agreement then opened his mouth, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

"And what do you think, Ms. Stone, about the gruesome scene back there in Marcus's chamber?" Jacob turned his head, gesturing back the way they'd come. "I can't imagine you left empty handed. You must have some ideas as to what happened."

Remy turned his words over. As benign as Jacob and his intentions appeared to be, it was always good practice to be guarded about how much of one's personal details to reveal. Remy's hasty conscription into the Spirit Guild's business had already set off instinctual red flags. Perhaps this could be an opportunity to draw out more information if she provided some of her own. Remy considered how best to start through Jacob's question.

"How about this. I'll humor you if you humor me." Remy began.

Jacob turned an eye up at her, "And what can I do?"

Remy smiled, "Show me around your guild and I'll tell you what I think. I'd like to get a sense about what a murderer might want within these four walls. And you'll have to pardon my lack of knowledge about your guild. Let's just say my church attendance is low."

Jacob raised a hand and waved off Remy's finishing remark. "It would be my pleasure. Another prospective member is always welcome."

Remy chuckled at the thought.

"No matter what you may think about the Spirit Guild, we are always open and welcoming." Jacob smiled at Remy's amused expression, then continued. "Let us move on and discuss. If it helps bring better understanding between both of us, it is time well spent."

The two turned forward again and continued walking through the curved, white-washed halls. Heights never bothered Remy and looking out the windows from her position, the city below looked stunning. Like grains of sand running through an hourglass, cars trickled through the streets. Above rooftops, white puffs of steam evaporated into the sky. From her place near the top of the Citadel, Remy imagined how a feeling of grandeur could be brought on by such an expansive point of view.

"So, you'd like to know what I think," Remy spoke as her gaze followed the horizon beyond the windows.

"You seem to me a woman who is always thinking."

"Always. And to be honest Jacob, the crime scene didn't surprise me." Remy worked to bend the truth. "Not to downplay its severity, but this type of incident isn't exactly uncommon."

Jacob scrunched his nose and drew a puzzled look over his face. Remy hoped her remarks were enough to lead his suspicions astray.

Remy continued, "That said, I did notice a few things that piqued my interest. Your colleagues, they appeared a touch... fidgety."

"Are you suggesting Augustus and Pascal are suspects?"

Remy turned, "You have to understand something Jacob. If I ruled out possibilities this early on, I wouldn't be a very good detective, now would I? Augustus and Pascal, men of the cloth and highest order, seem dedicated to their traditions. This much I understand. Yet I find it concerning that their churchly resolve might be a roadblock to the investigation."

Jacob turned away and thought back to the room. Augustus had been terse, although not more than Jacob was familiar with. And Pascal was keen on standing his ground with Remy's questions. It wasn't a wonder why Remy might, in some way, find them culpable through their stubbornness. Jacob considered the two men, those who had mentored and supported him in all his growth within the Spirit Guild. Finding them guilty for such a heinous crime was simply too difficult to imagine.

Remy went on, "Take, for example, the necklace Pascal wears, the one Augustus was so keen to upset himself about. Pascal's explanation about its importance was far from helpful. All that business about protecting the guild and essence of faith. It's a spiritual notion at best. It doesn't help me, someone grounded by facts, get much closer to the truth."

"You may be correct. The two Elders are nothing if not set in their archaisms. They come from an older time with a different interpretation of the church's values. Pascal means no disrespect Remy, I promise. He is only concerned with the sanctity of this sacred place. To him, the less we divulge about the guild's sensitive inner workings, the more we save ourselves from influence, evil or otherwise."

Jacob paused, as if discontent with the affirmation, "But I agree. Their lack of willing to be forthcoming may not be the best approach."

Remy appreciated the candor in Jacob's voice and raised a hand, gently touching his arm, "What I mean is that any barriers you and your guild put up against me, or the Police Guild for that matter, causes nothing but tougher problems to solve. You could do worse than give an ally useful information on which to hunt."

Jacob nodded slowly in agreement. As they walked the corridor opened into a large, expansive space filled with sunlight drawn from an opening in the ceiling high above. In front of Remy and Jacob, members of the Spirit Guild filled the generous theater. Concentric circles of graduated seating provided a place for most of the small groups inhabiting the space to sit and convene. Among the crowd, discussions were in progress, documents were exchanging hands, and other church duties were underway. Remy couldn't help but imagine how similar it all seemed to the Governance Guild's debate forums where policy and law were the topics of debate instead of religion.

Passing by its perimeter, Jacob and Remy made their way around one side of the large forum and toward the other where the corridor continued.

"This is the Sunwell. It is where the upper echelon of the Spirit Guild congregates to conduct business and exchange ideas," Jacob stated bluntly.

He lowered his head and continued in a whisper. "The guild's most sensitive information passes through this place. I expect it will be abuzz once the Police Guild is here to claim Marcus's body."

Jacob unclasped his hands and returned the waves of his compatriots before he and Remy passed clear of the crowd. Once in the quieter hallway beyond the Sunwell, Jacob took a deep breath.

"Follow me," he said.

Remy tailed Jacob as he led them quickly down the hallway, then around a corner and toward a small side alcove. Their path lead to a set of doors looking onto a balcony high above the city. Jacob unlocked the doors and pushed them forward. Just beyond, a small patio sat surrounded by a finely worked iron railing. Birds of paradise, roses, daffodils, and chrysanthemums filled the balcony's perimeter providing a small, personal space in which only a few individuals might fit.

In the center of the patio sat an old and gnarled wooden bench. Its age appeared ancient as the expertly carved wooden slats curled into an arching, bucketed shape. Jacob gestured to the seat. "Please, sit down."

Remy glanced again at her surroundings. The small and privileged nature of the place suggested a private area to talk and Remy wondered why Jacob had led her here. Cautiously she stepped out onto the platform and took a seat.

Gently, Jacob closed the doors behind them and threw the locking clasp. Walking to one of the many flowering bushes Jacob reached down and cupped a large red bloom in his palm.

"Marcus loved this place." Jacob's metered words exited his mouth in somber tone. "Cultivation. That may well have been his final testament. A man who tended and cared."

Releasing the flower, Jacob raised his head and moved to the empty spot beside Remy. Sitting, he turned to her and raised a hand in gesture.

"Pascal spoke to the importance of his necklace. Do you remember?" Jacob's arm twirled in a circular gesture, indicating his and Remy's surroundings. Looking cautiously at her, his words lingered.

"I do," Remy responded quickly, aware that Jacob's keen glance was less about recollection of the past and more a test of her awareness.

"Then I shall speak to that." Bowing his head, Jacob drew his voice close and went on. "There is more within this guild than meets first glance Ms. Stone."

"I'll admit I'm at a loss when it comes to spirit guild jewelry. You'll have to enlighten me." Remy returned.

"This jewelry, it is a key to an old and grand relic."

Remy shot Jacob a quizzical glance, unsure what to make of his revelation. "A relic?"

"Yes," Jacob replied, "A guild artifact which is to remain protected. It is of great significance to our Elders."

Remy's mind skipped about. Of course, Marcus's murder was far from usual. The ongoing string of high-profile deaths, the precision of the latest kill, the mysterious message on Marcus's documents, and the less than compliant witnesses in Pascal and Augustus. Each were causing Remy's gears to click. At least with some certainty she could now begin formulating a motive behind the manslaughter. Maybe Remy should have been attending mass at the Spirit Guild after all.

Jacob continued, "It came under our possession centuries ago. It not only gives our senior clergy hope but serves to protect us as well."

"And you're concerned with it being stolen. What happens when this relic falls in the wrong hands?"

"I do not know Ms. Stone. But I suspect its use would be less than honorable. With its loss, we lose a great many more things than a simple object." Jacob's honesty brought Remy back and she redoubled her focus on what he was saying.

"And one of the keys to access this object has just gone missing?" Remy was putting the pieces together.

"I fear as much." Jacob wrung his hands.

Remy's assumptions were being confirmed. A missing key and now a valuable guild item. Remy hoped the relic Jacob spoke about was simply a rare gem or old book. After all, she thought, the Spirit Guild would be the last place to find a weapon. Still, Remy's concerns were mounting.

She pressed on, "What makes this relic so contentious?"

"The relic itself isn't dangerous Ms. Stone. It's what the relic allows us to do that I'm worried about."

"Go on."

Jacob turned his head and pushed himself up from his seat. "I'm sorry, I cannot say."

Removing his mortar board hat, Jacob tossed it on the bench and walked to the edge of the balcony. Gently pushing aside the heavy vines wrapped around the patio's metal lattice-work, he exposed the vast city beyond. Wind forced its way through the plants and Remy felt the midday heat rush across her neck.

Standing, she moved to the flower where Jacob had first paused and caressed the billowy, red bloom. "You _can't_ say what it does Jacob, or you _won't_?"

"It's complicated. As my tutelage with the Elders continues, I am only privy to so much information at a time." Jacob's hair tossed in the breeze as his words carried across the patio.

"I need more than that Jacob. I'm here to help." Remy's soft gaze disarmed Jacob.

Noticing the tension in his shoulders Jacob drew a hand to his neck and massaged the taut muscles below. Taking a deep breath, he turned his attention back to the city beyond. "As far as I understand, our relic is a conduit for information. The Elders have whispered about its use of Aether, that this artifact is in some way connected to that speculative, scientific grail. Again, I only know what I've been told."

Jacob's words, like Pascal's, were cryptic. Aether, as Jacob had said, was a fringe topic of scientific study. Experts in the field contended that Aether, if in fact it did exist, had far reaching and groundbreaking implications. While observations and experiments were currently underway across the guilds of Magna to tease out such a prized development, the fabled resource had yet to be uncovered.

Nonetheless, it served to raise Remy's curiosity. Not only did Remy have a motive, but now she was faced with increasingly odd news about the artifact Jacob had revealed.

"I must see it." Remy's ultimatum came out stronger than she'd meant it, but she wasn't concerned if her remark came across as offensive. The sooner Remy had the information she needed, the sooner she'd deliver on her promise to help the Spirit Guild and be clear of the matter. Yet underneath it she couldn't shake the prospect of learning more about her exile.

Still staring out over the extents of Magna, Jacob uttered his response. "I am sorry, but you may not."

"I insist!" Remy retorted. "You realize the answer to your problems are wrapped in this object. I'm concerned as much by its theft as I am by the death toll it's exacting on your leadership."

Jacob shot back as fast as Remy had responded, turning from the railing and moving to meet her by the door, "That may be true, but the time will come for what I speak about to be revealed, if the fates allow. You must have faith, please Ms. Stone. For now, the relic is secure. It must not be disturbed."

Remy suppressed her unhappiness. She didn't have a stake in the way the Spirit Guild conducted their affairs. She'd only just been summoned to help. Certainly, it wasn't worth her time to be upset. Remy was startled to think this case might affect her on an emotional level, one deeper than she'd expected. She tried her best to separate work from pleasure, hoping the man before her wasn't the cause of her growing discordance. There were already enough problems with complicated men in her life.

Jacob took Remy's hand in his and covered it. Her fist felt small in his large, soft palms. The serene expression on his face appeared to Remy an unspoken apology he couldn't be of better service. He spoke with a calm, culpable tone, "As I have been instructed, the time will come, I promise you."

Releasing her hand, Jacob bent to the bench and gathered his cap, reseating it atop his head.

"Come, let's continue back down. I will show you my most respected place here in the Citadel."

Jacob walked to the door and pushed it open. The cool air from within was a change against the warmth outside and Remy's eyes adjusted back to the darker confines of the building's interior.

"You'd like to know what else I saw, back in the room?" Remy humored Jacob as the two made their way toward the set of elevators located near the interior of the citadel.

"Very much."

"I saw omission Jacob. On what Marcus's role was here, when I asked you about his duties." Remy strode forward with purpose.

Even in their hurried movement back through the corridors, Remy could sense Jacob's discomfort with her observation. She hadn't meant to question his honesty, only to point out that there were yet open ends in her search.

Remy pulled back the accusatory approach and continued, "I don't believe it's your fault. You curbed what you said because you were doing your job, like I'm doing mine. My guess is you weren't supposed to be liberal in talking with me anyhow. At least that's what I imagine your superiors were trying to accomplish. It's a predicament. I have a hunch you feel stuck somewhere between what you know as right and what needs to be done."

Jacob chuckled, "Isn't what's right always what needs to be done?"

"I don't think so. Sometimes our hands need dirtying if we want to get anywhere. Even if it's wrong."

"And are you suggesting I dirty my hands as well?"

To Remy, Jacob sounded rhetorical rather than literal in his remark. She responded, "If need be, I don't doubt it. Being of the cloth may dictate a clean mind, but don't tell me you weren't the slightest bit unhappy with how Pascal and Augustus have been treating the incident back there. That part of your mind, the uncivil, unclean part buried beneath practiced pleasantries and refinement, sometimes it creeps forward. I'm not ashamed of it. So what if we let a little malice in? If it motivates us and doesn't overcome who we are I don't see how discontentment is a bad thing. We're human after all."

Jacob was quiet as they approached the elevators. Remy waited for the doors to open before continuing their discussion. Hopefully there would be enough time to get additional information before they were brought back into the public space.

Remy went on, "What about Marcus couldn't you say in front of Augustus and Pascal?"

As the car descended, Jacob clasped his hands together, "Marcus was a good man. He was an educator, a mentor, a person who our clergy looked to for guidance."

"And what about his work?"

"Marcus had retired from public duties. Yes, of late he'd focused on internal affairs, looking to enrich our guild through a variety of good faith relationships with other organizations."

Remy harked back to Jacob's comments about Marcus's contract reviews.

Jacob went on, "Because of the wonderful contributions in his work, he was a natural fit to be assigned as one of the beneficiaries of the keys, the necklaces."

Remy continued Jacob's thought. "So, we know he was a keeper of a key. That would be enough to put a bullseye on his back. But why not go after Pascal or another of the Elders with a key?"

Jacob shifted, "There are only two necklaces."

Remy widened her eyes. Jacob's statement heightened her senses and sent a chill down her spine. She raised her voice in disbelief, "So only Marcus and Pascal have a key?"

"Yes."

Remy waved her arms in disbelief, "You should have mentioned this earlier. Who else knows about the significance of these necklaces?"

Jacob cleared his throat, "The other Elders, me, and now you."

Remy thought about Arthur and the Police Guild. It was no wonder they weren't making any progress. The tight-lipped nature of the Spirit Guild was doing nothing to help the authorities. If Arthur was privy to what Remy knew, perhaps more support and better protection could be provided to those in danger. Remy understood why the Police Guild was flying blind.

In a moment of realization, Remy turned, "Pardon the bluntness, but what makes you so unique that you should be entrusted with information about these necklaces and not any of the other Archbishops?"

Jacob and Remy looked above the copper doors at the backlit numbers as the elevator began to slow. There wasn't much time. Remy turned back to Jacob as he continued to speak.

"Unbeknownst to the other Archbishops, discussions have arisen about my candidacy as an Elder. It is likely I am next in line to take a senatorial seat for my sect in our guild. It seems to me the fact that several of our Elders have already been slain only accelerates this notion."

Remy's eyes darted around the small car, "Yes, but that doesn't explain why you should be aware of the truth behind the necklaces. You would still need to be given the Elder title to learn about their nature, am I correct?"

"Let's just say Marcus and I were close friends."

Remy turned over Jacobs words in her mind. She didn't buy it, the convenience of Jacob's explanation. But her interrogation would have to wait. With a soft dip, the elevator came to a halt and its doors opened to a large, main mezzanine. Inside, muffled echoes of footsteps and chatter bounced across the walls. Groups of congregation members and priests moved through the large hall as Remy and Jacob exited the elevator.

Before being noticed by the milieu, Jacob ushered Remy to a small alcove to the side near a great set of carved, wooden doors. Away from view, their conversation marched on.

"But still, why Marcus? Why should he suffer a wrath instead of Pascal?" Remy pushed.

Jacob stared into Remy's eyes. She was astute, he thought, and not one to take no for an answer. He appreciated her rough, direct style. It made sense why she was known for results. Jacob couldn't help but think her brashness was in some way related to the circumstances surrounding her exile, like a brightly lit flame.

Jacob answered Remy's question, "Pascal is a tougher man to reach. He is cautious. A serene individual, but careful as a result of his being an Elder for quite some time. Marcus was more, available."

"Fair enough. Marcus looks to have lived quite a modest life in that Spartan room. And I didn't see much indication he was being guarded."

"I fear Marcus trusted too much. He welcomed everyone and turned away none, never forgetting his clerical roots. Perhaps that's why the two of us got along so well."

Peaks of laughter broke the concentration between Remy and Jacob. Behind them a priest was doing his best to entertain a group of fellow churchgoers. Their guffaws echoed off the polished chamber. In a final nod, Jacob led Remy from their hiding place and headed toward the large doorway.

"One last question Jacob," Remy spoke.

"Yes?"

"What was the purpose behind the coin I saw Pascal hand Augustus?"

Jacob smiled, "Ah, those. Each Elder receives a personally minted coin when they ascend to their post. The coins are used as a currency within the Guild. They're meaningless outside these walls, aside from the value of the metal."

"Like a calling card." Remy concluded.

"I never thought of it that way, but I suppose that to be true."

"And they're currency you mentioned. So, what did Pascal pay Augustus for?"

Jacob again smiled, this time laughing, "Very observant Remy. Pascal gave money for a prayer remembrance, as is customary for all Elders to contribute when one of the others passes on."

It wasn't her place to judge, but Remy considered the pomp and circumstance behind the gesture a wasted effort. To her, mourning the fallen should be done by shedding tears, not exchanging money for tokens. "Touching," she said wryly, dismissing the act.

"It is touching," Jacob shot back, raising an eyebrow and measuring her. The two of them stopped before the giant, open doors. "I sense you have lost a great deal."

Remy stared at him, "More than you know."

"Not only here in our physical world, but I sense loss from a place inside as well. One deep within the soul, governed between logic and emotion." Jacob balled his hand into a fist and laid it against his chest.

"I assume you're referring to my exile?" Remy looked blankly at Jacob, remembering her conversation with Arthur earlier. Among the halls of the Spirit Guild, Remy didn't feel the heat of defensiveness wash over her like she had earlier in the day. Remy credited Jacob's tact for helping her feel at ease.

"In fact, I am not referring to your exile Remy. Instead I am speaking about loss, the humbling aspect of life to which, at times, we must all pay tribute."

Loss. A powerful concept for such a small word, Remy thought. Jacob was right, there was a part of her that needed reconciliation. Remy's meteoric rise in the Watcher Guild only made her imprisonment and exile more poignant. There were many things unfinished over which she thirsted for closure.

To his credit, Arthur had helped. He had been there when no one else was, jeopardizing his job and guild membership to lend a hand after the verdict had come down. Remy was struggling for semblance, trying to regain her life after abandonment by her guild and the rest of the system. The hope of better understanding her situation was what attracted Remy to Jacob's offer in the first place. For a sleuth like herself, Remy thought, the possibility of breaking her case open couldn't come soon enough.

Jacob sensed Remy's contemplativeness and motioned, "Come, let me show you where lies our greatest conduit for processing loss."

Jacob and Remy passed through the giant, archaic doors beside which they had stopped. Remy could feel the great heft of the portal and the old smell of wood lingering as she and Jacob moved through the opening and into the space beyond.

Built like an elongated dome, the massive oval hall pushed far above and forward from where Jacob and Remy entered. Small, cloistered sanctuaries jutted off along the edges of the giant arena. The walls, an unending, circular sweep around them, rose upward in great, curving arcs. Stained glass covered the ceiling as it rained down a saturated array of colors. Remy noticed how the light slowly moved over the modest pews lining the center of the room.

At the front of the chamber, a giant stone slab sat embedded in the earth. A naturally occurring altar, it was covered partially in fine white cloth gilded by gold. Large, tall candles encircled the stone's sides. Lit and flickering, small flames danced with the gently shifting air. An embossed, cubic design adorned the face of the altar. Behind it, covering the full extent of the far wall, a painstakingly embossed and sculpted fresco watched over the empty pews. Remy noticed the images of good and evil portrayed across the fresco's face as they fell together in an abstract battle scene. At the top of the fresco, in an image of hope, a globe threw its rays over the war depiction.

Jacob studied Remy's inquisitive expressions. He spoke quietly, "This is my guild's greatest offering to those who visit here – the Grand Chapel. It is a place of refuge and warmth. A place for happiness and a place to contemplate life's pain. Here, many find resolution against those tempestuous memories haunting us."

"It's quite impressive." Remy turned and looked out over the sparsely attended seats as she and Jacob walked down the center aisle toward the altar. Mass wouldn't start until later and now the chapel was open to the public for personal use. The few parishioners who inhabited the long benches sat hunched over, praying to their respective gods.

Remy and Jacob stopped at the end of the aisle where a set of steps led up to the apse. From where they stood, the fresco towered, overwhelming. It dwarfed the altar and pulpit below.

Jacob smiled, "The Grand Chapel has stood for centuries, erected before the Governance Guild, the Police Guild, even before your Watcher Guild. It is a testament to our cradle for those seeking answers, the fortunate and unfortunate alike."

Continuing to scan the ethereal scene on the wall, Remy replied, "And which am I Jacob, fortunate or unfortunate?"

"I am not one to judge." Jacob leaned his head to the side, "But by the same token you intrigue me. You have strength and insight. You do not pity yourself but are conflicted just as well. I do not see fortune or misfortune in you, rather a person seeking answers. Indeed, if every parishioner in my fold had the qualities you possess, we would be a very different, perhaps stronger, church."

"I assure you; you wouldn't want parishioners like me. I don't exactly conform to the religious standard."

"Perhaps. However just because your faith wavers does not mean you are lost." Jacob turned to the chapel's pews and waved his arms across them.

Remy turned to Jacob and moved her finger between the two of them, "The difference between you and me is not how strong our faith is. The difference is where our faith lies. You may have God on your side, but I have me. Faith in myself is enough."

Jacob let out an audible laugh and turned back toward the altar, pointing high up above the carved sphere in the fresco to a large, decorative banner. On it, words were sewn in thick cords of golden thread.

"Fidemus Tenetia," Jacob read the phrase aloud. "It means 'hold the faith.' This is the dictum of the spirit guild."

Remy read the words to herself, moving her lips in silent pronunciation. They had a good weight. Even without religion, she would do well to remember them, a simple reminder to fight on in the face of adversity, she thought.

Jacob shifted his gaze to the woman standing beside him. The fire in Remy's eyes was undeniable. In them Jacob saw himself – an eager pastor looking to help his church, a young man lauded by his peers, and an ambitious individual propelled into the highest ranks of his guild. Here, in Remy, was someone who shared a passion for the belief in one's life calling. Even without a guild, Remy was a feisty spirit.

"Maybe you and I aren't that different after all," Jacob mused.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Either way I can see why you're preferred to ascend as an Elder. Charm and compassion suit you well. If you're not careful it could get you into trouble." Remy's coy smile made Jacob blush. He could feel his cheeks warm and turned away.

Remy adjusted her satchel and spoke again, bringing Jacob's attention back, "Look. I need to run some tests on what I've found, but I'll be in touch. And promise me something."

"What's that?" Jacob asked.

"Stay safe."

Remy glanced briefly once more at the monolithic fresco. Smiling, she turned and walked back up the aisle toward the large doors through which she and Jacob had come, and left.

### Chapter 6

"Another one!" Lee barked as his fist came down like a hammer on the desk. Tess and Arthur winced at the sound and shifted uncomfortably. Within the confines of Lee's large office, Arthur couldn't help but feel the walls closing in around them.

"That makes the third body this month!" Taking large, heavy breaths, Lee's face had turned red long ago and showed little signs of fading. "Zero for three. That's a losing streak for anyone!"

Tess broke the silence she and Arthur had been keen to keep during Lee's vehement diatribe, "I agree sir. This case has proven particularly difficult. My team has poured over the evidence trying to make some meaningful connections. Needless to say, we're in the dark here."

"You're telling me." Lee shot her a chilling glance. "If it were any more obvious we'd be pushing daisies ourselves."

Picking up the solitary, thick file laid in the middle of his desk, Lee rifled through a set of papers and fished one out, laying it down so Tess and Arthur could see the writing.

"Here's the statement. Given just minutes ago via wire," Lee grumbled.

Arthur knew trouble was brewing as soon as Lee had opened his office door and shouted above the loud din of the precinct, quieting it immediately. As Arthur and Tess had rushed from their desks, their exchanged looks said it all. Another break in the Spirit Guild file. Now, bent over the document on Lee's desk, Arthur saw without a doubt that the case was only going to present itself a bigger problem. Augustus, one of the witnesses, had signed the transmission.

Lee continued in his discontentment, "You know what this is, don't you?"

Tess and Arthur looked at each other with uncertainty as Lee continued.

"This is a direct result of our failure. Another man dead because we couldn't get our act together in time."

Arthur hung his head while Tess leaned away from the chair over which she was perched, tapping her arms.

Lee lowered his voice and put his fists on the desk, trying to sound calm, "Listen. I understand the pressure. We've all been there as peacekeepers. Sometimes a case is as vaporous as the air around us. But we've got a big problem on our hands. This isn't a bunch of nobodies someone found in a street alley. Our victims here are top dogs in Magna's largest guild. And we stand to get slapped with some real sanctions if we don't start seeing progress."

"Yes sir." Arthur nodded his head as he looked at the floor. It hurt him to see his boss so agitated. Arthur couldn't remember the last time Lee had reason to get this upset and it unnerved him. There was a lot at stake. With Central being called in, the status of this incident was critically elevated. However, Arthur had faith that Lee's longstanding record for results was acknowledged higher up. While Lee and the quorum from Central didn't always see eye to eye, if the men up top thought Lee could take care of this himself then Lee was the man to do it.

And Arthur was aware of the substantial gain he stood to receive by helping bring the pieces together. With aspirations of a Central position like the one Tess occupied, it wouldn't hurt to be part of a successful investigation. But here they were, the three individuals most responsible for cracking the Spirit Guild's murder code, and unable to do so.

"Tess," Lee interrupted Arthur's thoughts.

"Yes chief?" Tess walked to the front of Lee's desk where he was still bent over.

"Before you and Arthur visit our friends at the Spirit Guild today, tell me, what's going on out there. Why the hang up?" Lee's question trailed off. Arthur could hear the clear sound of resignation in the chief's voice. It was an attempt at asking for the sum of their investigational difficulties packaged into a neat, one-sentence response.

Tess raised her shoulders, "We're pulling teeth sir. Our contacts at the church aren't cooperating. It's one step forward, two steps back. Whether it's fear or pride, I can't say, but certainly they're being tight lipped about this one."

"And our evidence?"

Arthur pushed himself up from his chair and moved to Tess's side, "Whoever's responsible for these murders knows what they're doing. The murders are stark, obvious acts, but meticulous all the same. The evidence is mounting, but there isn't enough yet to give us a suspect. And I'm sorry to say, but our leads are drying up."

Lee flicked his eyes between the two police standing before him. "Well that's not good enough. I don't care if you have to start all over again. Central's livid and I'm not in the mood to see another grisly death anytime soon. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir," Tess and Arthur chimed together, standing at attention.

Lee turned to Tess and lowered his voice, "Central put you under my direct command. If there's anyone who's expertise we're counting on, it's you. We need movement here. No questions. Got it?"

"Understood sir," Tess responded unmoving.

"Good, now go get me some results."

Tess turned to leave, Arthur following her. Flinging Lee's office door wide, Tess walked out brisk and bothered.

"A moment Arthur?" Lee's deep voice caught Arthur just before he exited the office. Arthur turned back and stared at his boss.

"Look," Arthur began, "I want to tell you how personally sorry I am about how this case has been handled."

Lee interrupted, a troubled expression on his face, "It's not that Arthur. Sit down."

The sergeant scanned his boss for a read. Finding nothing, Arthur moved back to the desk and sat again in one of the chairs.

Lee moved from his place behind the desk and closed the door to his office. Taking a seat beside Arthur, he continued, "Ms. Stone's been brought in."

Arthur felt electricity course through him. It prickled his skin. Damn it, he thought. Why'd Remy have to go and get herself mixed up in this one. The stubborn woman wouldn't quit. Remembering the conversation they'd had over breakfast earlier that morning, it dawned on him that Remy's curiosity was getting the better of her. Arthur was at the same time upset and impressed by the speed with which she'd become a part of the case.

Arthur wasn't about to let on to Lee that he had, in some way, slipped Remy information. But if Lee guessed it, Arthur wouldn't be surprised. Even though she was a Watcher, Remy had been a precinct darling. As far as Lee was concerned, he was as much a father to her as anything. Lee knew Remy had a tough time keeping her nose out of police business. The fact that she had proven a fantastic ally didn't make it easier to turn her help away either.

"Remy's part of this now, yeah?" Arthur said with reservation.

Lee shook his head, "I love that girl, but mark my words, she'll be the root of my retirement before this is all over."

"Can't keep her nose out of the business," Arthur let out a low laugh. "Even in her situation."

Lee looked up from under his furrowed brow, checking Arthur. "And I assume you don't have anything to do with this?"

Arthur jerked his head, stumbling for a moment over his words, "Of course not chief."

Lee could tell Arthur was lying. Arthur and Remy weren't without their history and Lee knew the two of them still saw each other. Invariably Arthur had given out something about the case, Lee sensed it. Remy's presence here, as usual, was both a blessing and a curse. Without anyone her peer, she had the skill to make headway when none other could. By the same coin, her state of exile made her an extreme liability. If word surfaced that Remy was aiding the Police Guild, Central would make sure heads rolled.

The simple solution, as always, was denying Remy's involvement if her actions came to light. Since exile, so far, Remy had been as careful as they came, keeping her distance and not upsetting Lee's applecart. She'd been there for the small cases, the ones that no one cared about, but on the periphery and as helpful as ever. Lee was grateful for that.

The Spirit Guild murders were a different animal. Word had spread within the precinct like wildfire once the first murder came to light. How could those of importance, in a long-standing and esteemed guild, be the target of such cruel injustice. Central had stepped in immediately. Then, with the coming of the second murder, Tess had been deployed. And Lee had been directed to keep a lid on the case.

The potential of knowledge surfacing that Remy was seen on the case troubled Lee. He could do only so much to protect Remy and the last thing he wanted was to have to put her behind bars again, or worse. And yet, he knew she was an invaluable asset all the same.

Lee rubbed his chin, "Listen Arthur, we've both known Ms. Stone for a long time."

"As long as I've been on the force," Arthur agreed.

"Between the both of us, you know as well as I that she can be a valuable part of our team. Even if we can't publicly acknowledge it."

Arthur nodded, pleased that Lee wasn't completely dissatisfied with the prospect she was entwining herself in their investigation.

Lee went on, "But we've got a big one on our hands with the Spirit Guild. I don't want to see that girl get hurt again. And I don't want her interfering with our investigation. She may be brilliant, but she's putting herself in a dangerous place."

Arthur agreed and nodded his head.

Lee finished, "See if you can't reason with her, ok?"

"Yeah chief, I'll try." Arthur got up to leave and paused, thinking. "Something's bugging me though, how do we know Remy's involved?"

"It was an anonymous tip."

"Anonymous?" Arthur was surprised.

"Just before the transmission about the murder came in." Lee reached into his shirt pocket and pulled a small piece of ticker tape from within. He handed the paper to Arthur and continued, looking on. "The transmission came in unsigned."

Arthur tried making sense of it, wrinkling his nose. "You got this before the transmission about the murder? From who?"

Lee shook his head, "We don't know. The originating code isn't from the Spirit Guild."

"And where did it trace?" Arthur furrowed his brow.

"It's a ghost signal, there was no confirmation about its origin. It could have been from anywhere."

"What?" Arthur wasn't sure what to make of this newest revelation.

"I'm just as concerned as you. It takes a lot of effort to disguise a wire transmission. My guess is whoever's behind the tip has it out for our woman."

Arthur nodded. The two men looked at each other for a moment, then Arthur stood and walked to the door. As he reached for the handle, he spoke, "Thanks for the heads up."

"Be careful out there," Lee replied.

Tess jerked open her locker, its force making a clanging sound as it swung wide, smacking against the adjoining metal stalls. Grabbing her kit inside, she bowed her head and sighed. It wasn't enough that Central had sent her to Magna on a case with bad news written all over it. Now she had been chewed out by an inferior precinct chief for problems beyond her control.

Even in the absence of evidence, who was Lee to criticize her efforts, Tess wondered. The chief may as well be blind, pent up in his office commanding from on high. Progress was made on the ground level where she, Arthur, and the rest of the investigatory team had been working their tails off. Lee was anywhere but close to them.

"It looks like you're as unhappy as I am," Arthur startled Tess out of her thoughts as he stood at the end of the long row of lockers.

"How long have you been there?" she asked, unappreciative of his silent appearance.

"Long enough to know you're not happy."

Tess let out a quick breath and went back to her preparations, searching through her detective kit and making sure each implement was accounted for. Arthur moved past the benches which ran the length of the aisle and separated one bank of lockers from the other. Opposite Tess, he approached his locker and punched a code into its mechanical keypad. With a click, the piston lock gave way and the metal container peeked open.

"I don't need to be happy," Tess said. "What I need is for us to get our work done."

Arthur wanted to respond, to defend himself and the efforts everyone in the precinct was making on the case, even if progress was only trickling in. But Tess was right, they needed to accelerate their work, get ahead of who, or whatever, was responsible.

At the same time, Arthur couldn't deny he had someone standing next to him who offered a window into a place he longed to be. Tess was a Central operative and highly lauded. If Arthur ever had a chance to see Central from an insider's point of view, now was the time.

"We have work to do," Arthur agreed with Tess's ultimatum and pulled his gear from his locker. "Tell me, is this a typical case for Central to be involved in?"

Facing away from Arthur, Tess raised her head. "Yes and no. Central intervention is called for murder cases every now and then. They don't usually revolve around notable figureheads though."

"What do they revolve around?"

"I can't refer to cases, confidentially speaking, but our workload typically includes espionage, counter-insurgency, security details and a few other matters. We're not all cloak and dagger though."

Arthur knew as much from his own inquiries into the Central application process as to what Tess was saying. But now hearing the words from the mouth of his commanding officer, a Central agent, it doubly piqued his interest.

Even with the bevy of information available to prospective Central applicants, to the unaffiliated there was still much to know about the guild's inner workings. Arthur tried containing himself as he talked with Tess.

"I've done research," Arthur confessed. "Your guild's acceptance rate is very low. And depending on an applicant's background and motivations, Central may be more discerning in accepting some more than others."

"You're right." Tess affirmed Arthur's suspicions in her simple response.

"If you were me, which Central department would you say might be the best fit for a prospective application?" Arthur didn't mean to encourage Tess on, but he was genuinely interested in any advantage he could get. Information about Central came at a premium and having Tess as a captive audience brought about a little selfishness in Arthur.

Tess picked up on Arthur's question, chuckling to herself as she thought back to long ago when she was finally granted entry into the Central Guild. The warmth she had felt then, standing there with her fellow inductees, saluting the flag, and congratulating each other in wide grins and pats on the back, floated across her stomach now too.

She turned around, facing Arthur, and eyed him head to toe.

"I don't know," Tess said questioning, "From where I sit you might be a candidate for our bathroom cleaning division, or maybe grocery boy."

Arthur frowned as Tess let out a raucous laugh. She needed the levity. Composing herself, she continued to speak, "I'm just kidding Arthur, but you should see the look on your face."

"Ha. Ha," Arthur said flatly.

Tess went on, "In all seriousness, I could see you in the First Reach department."

"The special tactics division?" Arthur's discontent washed away as he imagined the heavily geared assault teams and their cavalier escapades, the pictures of which showed up every so often in the daily papers.

"Potentially. From what I've observed, you're the kind of person who'd get a kick from it. Hell, you might even be good at it." Tess massaged Arthur's ego. Men were quick to hurt. Managing their sensitivity was as thankless and constant a job as it was important.

Arthur laughed as Tess went on.

"But in all seriousness, whether you go First Reach, Forensics like me, or any other department, none of them are going to be any easier than the rest. So, if you're looking for a quick way in I suggest you reevaluate your strategy."

"No, that's not what I meant." Arthur continued gathering his things as they spoke.

Tess continued, unfazed. "And if you are accepted, you'll probably enter as a Melee, one of the grunts in a waiting pool. Then it's Central's discretion where they want you to go, not yours."

"And what about you? How long did it take before you went to Forensics?"

"I skipped Melee actually. Went straight to Forensics. Let's just say I was an exceptional candidate." Tess narrowed her eyes as she looked at the man opposite her.

Arthur breathed a heavy sigh and looked away. Tess's frankness sobered him. Whereas he had been interested in the conversation when it began, now seeds of doubt were creeping in. Arthur didn't want to think about what would happen if he didn't make the cut for Central. Maybe he wasn't going to apply anytime soon, but it shook him all the same.

The two turned back to their respective bags and went on sorting their tools. Finalizing his gear, Arthur zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulders. Reaching into the back of his locker he placed his hand on the smooth wooden handle of the revolving pistol mounted there and pulled the implement out.

The gun's silver construction, set off by its fine, snaking gold inlay, gleamed in the light. It's dark, polished handle felt good in Arthur's hands and he appreciated the gun's heavy weight. If there was any word to describe the weapon, Arthur thought it would be respect – respect for the pain and devastation such a device could wield.

Arthur spoke as he holstered the sidearm, "It's good only a few of us get to carry these things."

Tess noticed Arthur gesturing to his gun and replied, "I agree. Imagine what it would be like if every guild were allowed to have these." Tess secured her gun at her side.

"I'd rather not find out."

Tess pulled her pack from the bench and closed her locker, "Let's get this son of a bitch."

Remy held the test tube containing Marcus's dry blood up to the lamp in her darkening apartment. With nightfall approaching and the setting sun disappearing beyond the horizon past her windows, Remy would need more light soon. She peered into the translucent vial and at the ridges formed by the dry platelets adhering to the glass. Backlit by the fading light of the sun, a deep red color glowed from the tube.

Remy looked down and across her overflowing desk. Covered in textbooks, notebooks, architectural plans, hand-scrawled lists, solutions of various colors and sizes, and myriad other projects, her workspace was reminiscent of a busy mind. Setting the test tube next to a compact microscope, she shuffled papers aside revealing a bank of small liquid filled glasses. Each vial was securely closed with an eyedropper stop.

At her side, Remy bent to a drawer and pulled a box of microscope slides and a pipette from within. She laid the tools before her on the desk and reached back for the test tube with Marcus's blood, careful not to disturb it.

The pipette made a telltale clinking against the glass tube as Remy pulled a small portion of blood from within. With practiced care she gently dropped the sample onto the center of an empty slide. She repeated the process until each slide had a portion of the blood Remy collected earlier in Marcus's chambers.

Grabbing the first of the liquid filled bottles from their bank, Remy drew its contents into an eyedropper. Leaning far over, she laid a single drop over the first slide. The solution bubbled as it soaked down into the sample. Remy returned the eyedropper to its home. Using a different solution each time she again repeated the process for the slides.

Sitting back, Remy observed her work and nodded. A few minutes of saturation and she would review her tests. With any luck one of the samples would reveal something, though Marcus's death and the knife in his back seemed straightforward.

Remy spun on her stool and stood up. It was time to unwind, to attempt the nightly ritual of decompression and calm. The day had been full enough to make her reflect and seeing a dead body always left an impression, no matter how jaded you were.

On her way to the kitchen Remy flicked on the lights, brightening the apartment as the last beams of sunlight burned away. Fishing a glass from a cabinet she set it on the counter and took the half full bottle of red wine from beside the stove.

With a pop, the cork relented, and Remy tipped the bottle. Music may soothe the savage beast, Remy thought, but wine soothed the tired soul. She filled the glass halfway and moved back to the living room, leaving the bottle out to air.

The words Remy had seen in Marcus's quarters, _Ostex Xostm_ , continued to run over her mind and she walked to her bookshelf. Scanning its contents, Remy ran her finger across the varied colors and textures of the compendiums she'd amassed in her collection. With a wide selection of books on endless topics there must be something here to help, Remy thought.

She stopped her finger on a dark, hardbound book entitled, 'Lexicological Antiquities, Sources and Meanings of Language Through Historical Context.' Grabbing its spine, Remy pulled the heavy tome out. It slid from its housing and dropped into Remy's open arm as she juggled the wine glass in the other.

The book took up a sizeable portion of Remy's desk as she flipped through its pages and waited for the microscope slides to settle. Cutting to the Latin section, she studied the passages, looking for some linkage between the strange phrase on Marcus's documents and her hunch about its roots.

She flipped the pages searching for definitions. Combing to the ' _O_ ' section she slid her finger down the page, tracing words. Where the word ' _Ostex_ ' might have been found, no entry existed. Continuing, the same was true for the word ' _Xostm_.' Neither of the two appeared to be Latin. Remy continued scanning, trying to find similar entries.

Remy noted several Latin words appearing similar to the strange writings in her hunt. ' _Ostendo_ ' and ' _ostium_.' Together the words meant ' _show the door_.' But why the cryptic spelling of these? Furthermore, what did 'show the door' refer to if, in fact, it was its meaning?

Remy sat back in her chair and looked at the ceiling, swirling her wine in its glass. If possible, she thought, she would like to get back into Marcus's chambers to review the words again. Or, at least, find a way to cross reference them with other Spirit Guild materials. Perhaps she had seen the language elsewhere in her work and travels, but never those words.

Leaning forward Remy set her wine glass down and pulled the first slide toward her. The mixture had coagulated just as she'd anticipated. Remy flicked on the microscope's tiny incandescent bulb and settled the slide under its metal holders. Peering through the viewer, Remy could see the mixture. Its green color indicated no presence of the compound for which it was being checked.

Sample after sample, Remy's test came up negative for matches. Nearing the end of her mixes, she slid one of the final samples under the viewing element. Remy shot up in her seat. The match was positive, she was sure of it. Remy scrambled for a small, worn notebook at the edge of the desk and flipped opened its pages.

The hand drawn image of a cell sat squarely in the center of the page. Remy's expert hand had captured the undulating curves of an amoeba-like object, its flagella fingers lining the perimeter of the cell body. Remy looked back into the microscope, then again at the journal.

The object in the microscope was similar, but not identical to the one she'd drawn. In the microscope, the object's interior had the same telltale globules swimming around and bouncing off each other. But the exterior of the cell was smooth, not covered in the same finger-like appendages as the one she'd sketched in her book.

Remy scanned her work. The similarities between what sat on the slide and what she'd recorded in her notebook bore too close a resemblance to not be related. In her cursive, amongst observational text underneath the image in the small folio, a string of words sat underlined – 'Interrogation Drug.'

It made sense. Marcus had been one of two keepers of a sacred artifact. He would have specific knowledge not commonly found among the Spirit Guild Elders. In so being he was a target for his unique knowledge.

For that reason, Remy wanted to rule out Pascal, the other keeper of the relic, as a possible suspect. Augustus was a much better candidate in this case. Augustus had professed his unwillingness to carry the burden of the key, yet it was a decent ploy to avoid blame should something happen to the artifact. Marcus and Pascal would be first to bear responsibility if it were missing, destroyed, or otherwise.

And yet perhaps Pascal had administered the drug to Marcus merely to cast suspicion away from himself. Why would Pascal have reason to interrogate Marcus? Surely, they knew the same information about their charge. And in so doing Pascal could eliminate his equal with little suspicion.

But it didn't explain why Pascal would want to kill Marcus or, for that matter, the other Elders who had fallen before. In any case, the expertly sunk knife, Marcus's death blow, was still left unexplained. Remy couldn't believe either Pascal or Augustus capable of such a precise act.

Then again, as was apparent in her work, nothing could be ruled out. At least whatever drug Marcus had been administered wasn't common. By Remy's best guess it was from a unique source. The drug was different than the one she'd seen used by guilds that had access to such means. Perhaps it had been purchased on the black market, Remy thought, but its sophistication seemed too specific for something any common criminal might get their hands on.

A resonating bang at the door shook Remy from her thoughts and she jumped in her chair. She wasn't expecting guests and the force of the knock unsettled her. Carefully she walked from her place at the desk and peered through the small spherical glass viewing portal.

Arthur. Damn it. Of all the random people who could have stumbled down the hallway and bumped into her apartment tonight, why did it have to be him?

"I know you're there Remy," Arthur's muffled words sounded loud even with the door between them. "Let me in. We need to talk."

Remy sighed. She couldn't well leave him outside, though she would have liked to. Remy knew Arthur for his persistence as much as anything and even leaving him on her doorstep wouldn't be enough of a deterrent. She peered back through the portal then spoke, exasperated, "Just a second."

Rushing to her work desk, Remy whisked open a drawer. As carefully as she could she gathered the test slides and arranged them atop the contents in the shallow opening. Delicately grabbing the drawer's handle, she slid it closed. Switching off the microscope Remy flipped the small notebook face down with her findings.

Arthur pounded again.

"I'm coming!" Remy yelled, irritated at his impatience.

Walking back to the door, she swooped up the wine glass where she'd left it on the table. Nothing was coming between her and a glass of wine tonight. Not even Arthur.

Remy unlocked the door and slowly began to open it. Without waiting, Arthur pushed it aside and marched into the room. His heavy brown duster swung behind him as he strode to one of Remy's large leather sofa's and threw his bag against it.

"You've done it now," Arthur grumbled turning to Remy who stood shocked next to the open door. "You have a knack for being nosy, don't you?"

Remy was silent, her mouth half open, almost ready to rush her unwelcome guest right back out the way he came. She was both startled and confused. Before having a chance to respond, Arthur spoke again.

"I'm pretty sure you aren't aware of your actions sometimes."

Remy shut the door and narrowed her eyes. She didn't understand Arthur's meaning, but being insulted in her own home was simply intolerable. Remy lowered her voice and approached Arthur. "Don't insult me or I'll kick you out as fast as I did this morning. If you want to tell me something, be a man and say it. It's one thing to start a discussion, but another thing altogether to start a fight. Which is it going to be?"

Arthur scanned Remy's brooding face. She meant business. He paused a moment, then cleared his throat and checked his temper. Remy was right, as disturbed as he was with the matters at hand, he couldn't be brusque and overstep her boundaries. He was supposed to be here to reel her in.

"I-, I'm sorry," Arthur said in a hushed tone.

"I should hope so," Remy spoke up. She walked away from Arthur to the opposite end of the sofa and took a seat. "Now, do you want to calm down and tell me what's going on?"

He shot her a glance. Sometimes Remy's words stung. It didn't help he had walked into it with his brashness. Taking a deep breath, Arthur shrugged off his coat and laid it across the back of the sofa. Sitting beside his belongings he stared across the open space between him and Remy.

"Listen, we have a real problem," Arthur raised his palms in supplication. "What were you doing sniffing out trouble at the Spirit Guild?"

The hairs on the back of Remy's neck prickled and her heart skipped a beat. How did Arthur know she'd been to the Citadel? Was he serious or bluffing, seeing if she'd take the bait in revealing her visit? She and Arthur had talked about the case that morning, but she'd made no indication, nor had the intention, of getting mixed up in things.

"I'm not sure I follow," Remy attempted to sound convincing, doing little to conceal herself.

"I'm serious Remy," Arthur had known her too long to be deceived so simply. "The chief is worried. I'm worried. Though we'd rather not, the Police Guild can handle dealing with your involvement. It's deniability. The Police Guild won't be there to support you if things go South, you know that. Think about what it means. With all due respect, I don't think you can afford to be on this one."

Remy's mind spun. The only reason she'd followed Jacob to the spirit guild in the first place was on his certainty he could provide insight into her exile. And here she was, caught between the need to help and exposure that might trigger her condemnation yet again.

"You're supposed to be low key, remember?" Arthur went on. "In fact, you're not supposed to be doing any detective work at all. Even as much as the precinct might like it." Arthur averted his eyes.

Remy shook herself from her daze, "And if I didn't, how would your guild's success rate look? How many cold cases would have gone unsolved?"

Arthur shifted uneasily in his seat, "Your help is always appreciated Remy, you know that. We're just looking out for your safety."

Remy knew as much. Lee and Arthur had always been her champions. Though, in their authoritative capacity, they had little choice but to follow the letter of the law. Remy understood well enough the deniability of working with her to which they must adhere. As helpful as Remy could be, she was no longer a Watcher and her presence with this case, on any level, was far from legal.

"I know," Remy continued. "Tell me Arthur, precisely how do you know I'm with the Spirit Guild on this one?"

Arthur sat back and folded his hands. "Lee. He received an unidentifiable wire transmission. It came across right before the latest murder was reported this afternoon."

"An unidentifiable wire transmission? That's rare." Remy ran her hand through her hair and flipped it to one side.

"Believe me, we're just as baffled. If it's any consolation, we have no intention of releasing the fact that you've been identified to us."

"I would think not. Deniability, right?" Remy looked at Arthur, a small smile at the corners of her mouth.

Arthur chuckled, "Right. The thing that bothers me though is why someone would report your involvement in the first place, anonymously or untraceably."

"What did the message say?" Remy raised her wine glass to her lips and took a sip.

"Lee showed me the wire. It read, 'Remy is playing a dangerous game visiting the Spirit Guild. Leave no Stone unturned.'"

Remy swirled the wine while she looked to the side, "It doesn't come across to me as threatening."

Arthur moved his head from side to side in partial agreement. "All I know is that someone out there, possibly the one responsible for the murders, is aware you've been working with the Spirit Guild. They're willing to address it directly to the police too. If that doesn't scream red flag, I don't know what does."

Though Remy didn't like it, Arthur had a point. She frowned and stood, heading to the kitchen to refill her almost empty glass.

Arthur rose too, beginning to meander around the apartment for distraction.

"Would you like some wine?" Remy's voice carried from the kitchen into the front room. She hadn't intended on sharing, but after Arthur's news Remy appreciated having someone here with her.

"Thanks, but no." Arthur passed by the bookshelf and inattentively glanced across its contents.

"Suit yourself." Remy finished pouring her glass and walked back from the kitchen.

Arthur passed the work desk and looked over the book Remy had used for her language hunt moments before he'd arrived. The scribbled words were foreign as he scanned the lines of unintelligible text. Arthur shook his head, wondering what Remy did in her spare time. He imagined reading archaic languages wasn't what the majority did for fun.

Remy spoke up from her spot on the sofa, "Arthur. I know you think it was my curiosity that brought me to the Citadel today. Believe me, it sounded interesting enough when we spoke about it last night. But I didn't go on my own."

Arthur looked up from his casual snooping. "Is that so?"

"A member of the Spirit Guild stopped by. He made me an offer. I accepted."

Arthur made his way around the far end of the room and back to the sofa. "They came to you?"

"Yeah."

Arthur felt a twinge of guilt settle in his stomach. Here he had barged into Remy's home and accused her of seeking out trouble. He'd chastised her and nearly gotten himself thrown out. Though Remy shouldn't have accepted the Spirit Guild's call, Arthur could only imagine what their request looked like. He felt ashamed.

Apologizing, Arthur moved the small distance between the two sofas over to Remy's side. "I'm sorry. I thought. Well, I guess I didn't think. I just figured you'd gone out looking after our talk this morning."

Remy smiled. It was nice to see a side of Arthur he often didn't show. She wasn't mad. It was true, Remy shouldn't be mixed up in the Spirit Guild's business, but in exile the pursuit of redemption was an ongoing priority. Remy would give anything to clear her name. She didn't expect Arthur to understand.

Remy leaned toward Arthur and softened her voice. "It's ok. How could you know?"

Instinctively Arthur put his arms around Remy and pulled her to him.

Remy didn't resist. For a fleeting moment, she thought over the day's events and Arthur being here. In a heartbeat, her world had gone from status quo to the edge of danger, everything turned upside down.

Arthur's warm embrace felt good, melting away concern. Remy didn't know if it was his being a policeman or otherwise, but Arthur's presence helped give her the feeling of safety, protection. She looked up into his eyes, inches away, and pressed her mouth forward.

Arthur's lips felt soft as Remy drove herself against him. Stubble tickled her cheek and she felt Arthur's warm breath quicken as she ran her hands over his broad back, digging in her nails.

The tightening of Arthur's arms around her felt good and Remy thought the thickness of his muscular frame only served as a monument to topple. She leaned forward and forced Arthur to fall back against the couch. Laying on top of him, Remy kissed his neck and fumbled for his shirt and pants. Arthur met her and unbuttoned her leather vest.

Remy's mind burned as Arthur lay there, beneath her, naked and tense. The trials of the day melted from her consciousness like snow unseated from it's heavy mountain perch. Relinquishment avalanched forward, replaced by the euphoric knowledge that life wasn't always pain. In it, moments of utter pleasure existed. One only needed to allow for it.

Remy arched her back, her body shaking at the sensation of her and Arthur moving in unison. His hands ran the length of her, sending tingling sensations everywhere he touched. Together they moved, gripping each other in unrelenting embrace. The strength of both, forceful and driven.

Remy closed her eyes, drifting away until she could take it no longer. Letting out a cry she collapsed onto Arthur's chest and buried her face against his. Waves of warmth washed across her as she felt his caress. In it there was no danger and there was no exile. It was only the sun and the moon and the embrace of an endless sky filled with a million stars. And whether Arthur knew it or not, for a moment heaven existed and Remy was there.

### Chapter 7

Pascal was certain he was being followed. From the time he'd left the Citadel until now an uneasiness strode alongside, matching him step for step as he walked through Magna's winding streets. Being in the crowded thoroughfare did little to calm his nerves.

Marcus's necklace and the implications of its loss weighed heavily on Pascal's mind. How was it that whoever was responsible for the deaths of Pascal's peers knew about these keys? And, even more troubling, understood the importance about their use.

Pascal knew it was only a matter of time before the killer hunted for Marcus's sister necklace. It stood to reason that if Marcus's death was the result of a hunt for the key, then dark forces knew the need to possess both.

Moving through the throngs, Pascal entered the city's large market square. Lined by shops and street vendors, the colorful assortment of Magna's people gathered to eat, exchange goods, and socialize. At the center of the market square a large tower stood watching over the crowd below. Upon the appropriate hour, giant steam pistons drove against the massive bronze bell contained in the edifice and signaled a call to prayer at the Spirit Guild.

Pascal glanced behind him, peering back the way he came. Between the crowded streets Pascal imagined he glimpsed a hooded figure slinking forward amongst them, slow and steady.

My mind is playing tricks, Pascal thought, an unfair game when all I need at this time is peace of mind.

Cutting to the far end of the square, Pascal made his way into the galleria, an intricate maze of stalls and shops hidden below makeshift, canvas overhangs. Ahead would be his destination, the cobbler's. Its shelter would provide relief from the haunting isolation Pascal couldn't shake, even among the citizens around him.

Snaking his way through the stalls, Pascal sashayed between vendors and street-goers until the row to the cobbler lay before him. The telltale brass and silver sign hung above the door not far from where he stood. Moving quickly, Pascal walked toward the opening.

From behind an adjoining stall, Pascal's hooded figure walked into view, pausing between the Elder and the shop ahead. Pascal stopped in his tracks. Was this real or had the stress of recent events fractured Pascal's fragile state? The figure's heavy leather hood and cape obscured Pascal's ability to identify the wearer. As Pascal watched near him, the figure pulled back its cape to reveal a thick, glinting blade.

Fear coursed through Pascal's veins. Real or not, now wasn't the time to argue with ghosts and Pascal turned and ran. Crashing through the galleria's stalls, Pascal's unwieldy robes bounced about, making it difficult to run. Rounding the final corner of the covered bazaar he shot out into the square and made for the tower in its center.

Over his shoulder, the figure jogged a distance behind, doing little to draw attention to the pursuit. Pascal reached into the breast pockets of his robes and pulled a set of keys from within. Rounding the tower, Pascal saw the access door recessed into the wall flanked by large stone statuary. Fumbling for the lock Pascal jammed the key into the door and wrenched it open.

The door popped from its seat and swung wide. Jumping into the dark interior of the base of the tower, Pascal reached back and pulled the door handle as hard as he could. With a confirming thud the door closed, locking in place. In this empty structure, Spirit Guild property, the Elder would be safe.

Pascal lay prone on the floor, breathing large gulps of air and trying to regain his senses. The sprint from his far destination to the tower was exhausting and he wondered how many of the square's patrons had witnessed his mad dash. Even though he was alone, Pascal was glad to be inside the safety of the bell tower.

Looking up, Pascal could make out a winding spiral staircase affixed to the interior of the stone walls and extending upward its full length. At the top of the tower a false wooden ceiling sat as a cover. In it, a small opening where the stairs exited toward the belfry let through a solitary pillar of light.

Pascal pushed himself from the ground and stood, dusting his robes. Surveying his surroundings, he wondered how long he might be stuck in this small and vacant place. Perhaps he could wave down some help from the belfry above.

As though Pascal's thoughts had been heard, the sound of a key sliding into the locked access door resonated through the empty chamber. Pascal stared at the wooden slab and held his breath.

As surely has the door had unlocked for Pascal, so too did it unlock for whomever stood on the other side of it now. Pascal watched as the handle slowly twisted downward and the door opened.

Like a bad, unshakeable dream the darkened silhouette of the figure stood before Pascal. The figure's cloak shrouded their appearance and the hood was still drawn low enough that the individual wearing it remained anonymous.

Before Pascal could raise his voice for help, the dark figure slammed the door shut. A small smile crept out from under the hood. Again, terror ran through Pascal's body and he scrambled backward to the bottom of the spiral staircase.

"Flee far from here vile heathen!" Pascal screamed as loud as he could, hoping his voice would carry outside over the loud din of the street fare. Stumbling at the steps he fumbled over his robes and careened to the ground.

Pascal had dismissed the idea that the Spirit Guild should concern itself with the fall of the senior clergy, one by one. If the end must come, then so be it. But now, facing down his own mortality, Pascal regretted his sentiment. He wished, more than anything else, he could have retracted what he had said while he had stood over Marcus's dead body beside Augustus. Life was indeed precious and the guild was in palpable danger.

The figure slowly moved forward, cutting off access from where the two had come and forcing Pascal up the stairwell. Quiet laughter lilted from under the figure's hood. From beneath the cape, muted yellow light reflected off a tightly gripped blade.

Pascal scrambled back to his feet and fled up the stairs, yelling as he went. "Who are you and what do you want!?"

In silence, the figure followed Pascal, ascending the staircase.

"Have the decency to speak devil! What have I done to harm you?" Pascal frantically continued climbing, nearing the opening to the belfry above. If he could wave someone down from atop the tower, perhaps he'd have a chance to stop the string of murders and catch his pursuer at the same time.

Pascal looked down the spiral staircase. Faster than he could believe, the figure sprinted the length of the stairs, making up the large distance between them in a matter of seconds. With sharp force, the figure crashed into Pascal and knocked him hard against the opening in the wooden ceiling.

The edge of the steps cut into Pascal's side and he winced in pain, letting out a yelp. The figure walked over Pascal's curled body and into the belfry. Without warning, Pascal felt a strong hand against the neck of his robes as he was dragged out onto the open-air platform.

High above the square, the wind cut through the belfry in vicious, whipping gusts. Even from his bent over position, Pascal could see across the square and toward the skyline of surrounding buildings. Aside from the extension of the bell tower's four corners up and over to where a giant bell hung, there were no walls to contain Pascal or the figure on their perch.

Pascal looked up once more, "Who-. Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter who I am," the figure's voice came muffled from under the hood. "It only matters what you have for me."

The figure lunged down on top of Pascal and ripped the robes over his shoulders and down to his waist. Pascal's torso sat exposed, the body of a man too aged to fight the strength of his oppressor.

The figure stared at the Pascal's chest then let out a bellowing cry, "Where is it! Where is the key!"

"Safe from evil. May you be smote from the heavens!" Pascal spat at the ground. Defying all guild law and special duty, Pascal had made the decision to hide the necklace away. Its absence had haunted him since removing it, but he'd hoped his choice would make a difference, protecting his guild and buying precious time in revealing the origin of this calamity. Any punishment Pascal would receive for consequences of his actions seemed paltry as he looked up into the exposed eyes of the figure above him.

"But you-." The fist came down before Pascal had a chance at another word. Its dull impact cracked him hard across the brow and he stumbled back, nearing the edge of the tower's platform.

"It has been decided. Now is the Spirit Guild's time to fall." The figure approached Pascal with outstretched hands and pulled him to his feet.

In his stupor, Pascal tried to understand. What did this person mean? The message didn't make sense. Looking into his assailant's eyes, groggy, Pascal spoke with as resolute a tone as he could muster. "Then you shall have to kill us all."

"My pleasure," the figure's cool voice slipped out and with a firm push Pascal was hurtled back.

Pascal's vision was a blur of colors as he fell spinning from the precipice of the tower. In his confusion and disorientation, life reflected in a kaleidoscope of images. He hadn't imagined death this way, a frenzied fight to the finish. Instead he thought he would have liked to greet death warmly, in his bed, accepting it and with friends by his side. Instead, below, the stone ground lay like a cold tomb pulling him down toward it with icy fingers.

Pascal's body lay lifeless amongst the screaming and scattering crowd. His half-worn robes strewn about encircled him like a carefully placed deathbed.

At the top of the tower the figure, hidden, watched the scene unfold. Then satisfied, and as calmly as the hunt for the Elder had begun, the figure turned away, made their way back down the stairwell, out the door, and disappeared into the amassing crowd.

### Chapter 8

Remy's transmission box clicked furiously as the wire message came across, printing on the thin white ticker tape. Alone in her apartment, bent over her workstation, she looked up at the machine and reached for the paper. With a gentle tug the message tore away and she moved it into the light of the afternoon sun.

'Death reported. Center square. Suspected suicide.'

Remy monitored the police wire from time to time. However, since being brought in by the Spirit Guild, she had tuned to the police channel non-stop. Looking at the paper she wondered how long it had been since the body was found.

A suicide in broad daylight. It was uncommon in Magna. And if the victim were in fact a Spirit Guild member, it meant Remy needed to act fast. If she had any chance of gathering evidence, now would be the time, before the authorities arrived and certainly before Arthur and Tess were called in. She had to leave immediately.

Throwing on her jacket and snatching her satchel from its place on the coat rack, Remy jetted from her apartment.

The narrow streets whipped by as Remy ran darting through the crowds. Past lampposts, around overflowing sidewalk cafes, dodging horse-drawn carriages and steam vehicles alike, Remy shot toward the center square, not far from where she lived. She estimated getting there would be faster on foot than any other mode of transportation.

Squeezing through a final alleyway, the open-air marketplace peeked out just beyond the shops. Sprinting the last stretch of the way Remy moved to the edge of the public square.

At its perimeter, the square's shops and social areas were cleared. No one sat at the restaurant tables or browsed the various stands. Inside, businesses looked deserted. It was in the middle of the square, at the base of the tall bell tower, that a large crowd had gathered. As though the entire public contents of the square had been moved to that small area, the swirling mass of people looked enormous.

Peering around, Remy didn't see signs yet of the Police Guild on scene. It would be now or not at all that she would have her chance, Remy thought. Firming her satchel against her side, Remy jogged the short way from the edge of the square to the tower.

A loud cacophony struck Remy as she fought her way through the swarming collective of people. Murmurs, hisses, and arguments clashed together from the crowd. Remy dug through the throng until, at last, the scene unveiled itself.

Pascal's body lay on the ground in a gruesome spectacle. Considering the extent of bodily damage Remy concluded he fell clear from the full height of the tower. Remy coughed at the carnage, shook her head, then opened her satchel and grabbed the small notebook and a pen.

She began writing, 'Extensive cranial trauma. Right parietal and occipital fracturing. Broken mandible and right arm. Abdominal rupturing. Heavy blood loss. Body appears to have fallen from a great height, landing on right side.'

Remy continued to scan Pascal's body. Although he appeared to have fallen to his right, the faint hint of injury also seemed to show up on his left side. Remy wrote, 'Bruising on left jawline. Inconsistent with fall. Possible blunt force trauma. Was victim struck? Indicates possible attack.'

The urge to comb through Pascal's belongings was strong, but Remy knew any interaction with the body would spell trouble. Undoubtedly someone would identify her, and the time spent gathering information would be for not. She'd have to settle for observation alone. Remy craned her neck, peering over the crumpled robe to get a better view of Pascal's exposed upper body.

She continued writing, 'Victim's clothing appears forcibly removed from the waist up.'

At that moment Remy realized the necklace she'd seen Pascal wearing when they had first met a few days before, was missing. The fact solidified in her mind, this was an intentional and calculated murder. The word of the necklace's loss must be given to the Spirit Guild.

Moving around the inside periphery of the circle formed around the corpse, Remy shifted positions, trying for a different perspective. Treading slowly, she moved against the raucous crowd when, underfoot, something pushed against her sole.

Lifting her boot, a thick gold coin piece appeared where she had been stepping. Augustus's guild coin, it was unquestionable. The intricate gem design matched the one she'd seen on Augustus's hat when they'd first met. So why, now, was Augustus's token laying at the crime scene of Pascal's murder?

Remy bent down and pretended to fumble with her shoe. Discreetly, she slipped her hand under sole and plucked the coin from the ground, placing it in a pocket of her satchel. Tampering with a crime scene was against the law, but Remy didn't care. The Police Guild might find a use for the coin, Remy thought, but it meant more to her than it would to them right now.

From outside the crowd, Remy heard the telltale sirens of the police. Packing her notebook back into her bag, Remy hurried around the interior of the crowd and made her way out the other side. Striding away from the scene toward the edge of the square she looked back over her shoulder.

The police cruisers encircled the masses. Coming to a stop, small jets of steam exited from under the cars, their brakes engaging. Remy could see the police officers streaming out from the vehicles, ushering the crowd to the sides and cordoning off the scene with yellow tape. As the final police cruiser pulled forward, its doors opened and Arthur and Tess stepped out onto the square.

Arthur looked regal in his trademark duster. It flapped in the wind as he surveyed the chaos below the bell tower. To his side, a woman Remy didn't recognize lifted her badge and waved her arms at the crowd, settling them down. She too, like Arthur, had a gun holstered at her side. Remy concluded she must be the woman from Central who Arthur had spoken about.

If Central was brought in though, Remy considered, why had such little progress been made on the case. While she was instated as a Watcher, Remy remembered a competent and diehard Central Guild. Now, three murders had gone unsolved with a fourth just committed. Remy wanted to feel bad for Arthur and the others in the Police Guild. To her however, with the addition of Central, the incompetence of the authorities made Remy mad more than anything.

For now, Remy needed to make her way to the Citadel. And as she walked through Magna's streets she rubbed her hand over the thickness of the coin buried in her satchel's pocket.

Tess and Arthur surveyed the scene. Of all the days to be on the beat, this was a tough one, Arthur thought. The mangled corpse added stark poignancy to an already palpable tension in the air.

Arthur glanced at Tess and took a deep breath, shaking his head.

"This is bad," Arthur let out a long sigh.

Tess scanned over the milieu and nodded replying, "Let's secure a perimeter and get to work. These people have to go."

Tess raised her voice over the din of the crowd and yelled, "Listen up. I need everyone's attention."

The crowd quieted, and all eyes turned to Tess.

"This is now a police investigation. We're cordoning off the area." Tess nodded to one of the officers at her side and pointed in a circle around the body. "If I hear anyone so much as raise their voice again, they'll be held for questioning. There'll be order or I'm going to start making arrests. Is that clear? Now make room for my men and women."

A quiet murmur bubbled over the spectators and they moved back as the policemen made their way in a large arc around where Pascal's body lay, placing barriers as they went.

"And everyone, please stay here. We'll be taking statements and witness reports shortly." Tess walked back to Arthur and folded her arms.

Arthur spoke, gesturing with the pencil he had pulled from his trench coat, "It's Pascal."

Tess leaned over and peered at the mangled body, "You're right. But damn it's hard to tell."

"We'd just talked to him yesterday. Marcus's chambers in the Citadel. What the hell?" Arthur couldn't hide the agitation in his voice. He and Tess were backlogged on the case as it was, fresh off Marcus's murder. Now, days later, a key figure was lying dead in broad daylight. "Lee's going to have a heart attack."

"Yeah." Tess looked up the side of the tower and at the platform where the bell hung. "He might."

"Grisly death." Arthur began walking around Pascal's body. "I can't imagine him taking his own life though."

"I agree. Based on our prior discussions with him, I'd have to rule it out." Tess looked back down at Pascal's body and followed Arthur's path.

Arthur thought back to his and Tess's meeting at the Citadel in Marcus's quarters. Pascal had been more forthcoming at that point than any time Arthur could remember. He had impressed upon the two detectives that he feared, now, gravely for his own personal safety.

Pascal continued by confiding he had access to church items he was certain the killer was interested in. Though Tess and Arthur coaxed him for specifics, Pascal only went so far as to indicate they had great value.

At least for he and Tess, Arthur thought, the information gave them a better insight into the killer's motives. If there were particular Spirit Guild valuables the murderer was set on taking, they might lead to better profiling of their suspect. As was expected, however, Pascal had ultimately been uncooperative. Arthur had felt ready to charge him with obstruction of justice.

Looking back to Tess, Arthur questioned, "So what do you suppose he was doing out here all by himself?"

"I don't think the question is what he was doing out here, but what he was doing up there." Tess pointed to the top of the tower.

Arthur looked up to where Tess's finger suggested. The large brass bell shone in the sun, polished clean. From where he stood, Arthur could only see the edge of the open platform above and the support structures at the corners of the building which suspended the bell.

Arthur moved his glance back to Pascal's body. "Considering the extent of sustained injury, I'd say that's a very good question. These towers are Spirit Guild property. Prayer bells if I'm not mistaken."

The flash of a firing camera bulb flicked across the crime scene as the police photographer snapped his shots. At the edge of the police tape, officers scribbled in their pads, taking information from the onlookers.

"One way to find out," Tess walked a short way to the tower entrance, toward its recessed opening. Grabbing the handle, she shook the door. "It's locked."

Arthur met her, trying the handle as well to no avail. "Let's open it up."

Tess reached to the ring of keys at her side and singled one out, setting it into the lock and opening the door. The coolness of the tower's interior struck her and Arthur as they moved into the dim space, their eyes adjusting.

"Look." Arthur waved a hand over the floor. Across the silt covered ground Tess and Arthur saw fresh, sweeping marks cut into the dust. Their trail led to and stopped at the staircase on the far wall. Further inspecting the evidence Arthur noticed handprints, widespread and settled into the dirt.

Arthur continued, "Someone was on the ground here. And the direction of the hands look like the person was backpedaling perhaps. See how they face away from the stairs?"

Tess noted Arthur's observation. "That makes sense."

"What about up there?" Arthur cocked his head back and nodded toward the top of the tower.

Tess skirted the evidence and started up the stairs, "So beside Pascal, who would have access here?"

"I imagine any Spirit Guild members with the right clearance. Likely any clerical priests responsible for the tower's maintenance. Perhaps the guild guards, but that may be untrue. And anyone with an important role in the church too I suppose."

"Does that tell you something?" Tess's question seemed methodical, as though waiting for Arthur to realize something she already knew. The question irked Arthur. He didn't like thinking he'd missed something.

Arthur thought back again to the conversation he and Tess had with Pascal. Augustus had been there – unhappy, impatient, and trying to control the conversation. His gruff and premature exit had alarmed Arthur. Here, in this confined and private tower Arthur could see how a set of churchly circumstances might have turned to potent death, "Damn. You're right."

"I think we need to have a little chat with our friend Augustus." Tess said, affirming Arthur's thoughts.

Augustus had rubbed Arthur the wrong way when they'd first met. Sharing the thoughts with Tess now helped solidify Arthur's doubts. A policeman couldn't make an arrest on gut feeling alone, but it helped.

Exiting the stairwell into the belfry, Arthur and Tess walked out on to the platform. An uneasiness surfaced in Arthur's stomach as he peered out over the edge and over the square. Being up this high engendered a healthy respect for heights, Arthur thought, and he moved to the center of the wooden floor.

Tess breezed to the end of the open area and bent down, squatting above the edge of the tower. "Look. Here." Where Tess gestured, a small blood pattern was sprayed against the flooring and up one of the four corner support columns.

"An obvious struggle I'd say," Tess went on. Pulling a leather glove from her waist pocket she slid it over her hand and snugged it down. Gently she put out her index finger and dabbed it into one of the red pools. Bringing it just in front of her face she padded it with her thumb. The blood appeared recent, sticking between her fingers as she pulled them apart.

"Fresh." Arthur mused. "We'll have to run samples, but it appears we have another murder on our hands."

"However, this time we make an arrest," Tess replied.

### Chapter 9

Remy stumbled into the Citadel, her legs tired as she had run the full distance from the center square to her destination. The cool interior of the building felt wonderful against her body, relief coming swiftly as her sweaty brow began drying.

Readjusting her satchel to her side and straightening her vest back into place, Remy moved forward into the wide foyer. Approaching a group of priests in the lobby, she cleared her throat, getting their attention. "Excuse me. I'm looking for Jacob Faraday, Archbishop. Can you tell me where I might find him? It's urgent."

The small collective of priests widened to accommodate Remy's presence. One of them began, "And what business do you have with Father Faraday? He is a busy man. He doesn't take members of the flock as audience anymore I'm afraid."

The priest's condescending tone surprised Remy and she sidled up to him, stopping a hand's width from his face. Reaching, she grabbed his collar and pulled him toward her, his nose inches away from hers.

"Look Priest. You may have your so-called protection from evil, but you sure as hell don't have protection from me. I'm the woman who's absolving your guild of those pesky murders you've been having. And if I can't talk with Jacob, and I mean right now, they're going to keep happening."

The group of priests looked around, shuffling amidst each other. In Remy's grasp, the priest grimaced in discomfort.

Remy continued, "I suggest you be good and fetch me my audience with Mr. Faraday before you're responsible for the next misfortune. Isn't that fair?"

"Uh, yes miss. Right away," the priest wriggled in Remy's grip, flicking his hand and motioning to his peers to search for Jacob.

Remy let go, pushing the off balanced priest away and crossing her arms. "And for the record, I'm not a member of your flock. You can keep your Gods. I have me."

The priest nodded, looking at the ground.

Faster than Remy expected, the group of priests returned, Jacob amongst them. As they crossed the floor, Remy felt the need to sigh. It was nice to see a man who had some grounding and principle, a stark contrast to the errant priest she had just handled. But the gravity of the situation resonated in the back of Remy's mind and she couldn't release her breath.

Jacob raised his arms to meet Remy.

"How are you?" Jacob's voice sounded warm and inviting. He took Remy's hands into his and gently shook them. "I have been told you request my urgent presence."

Remy raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders. The look on Jacob's face indicated he understood her presence meant difficult news. He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips.

Remy started, "I'm okay Jacob. Can we talk somewhere private?"

"Of course, of course. Let us walk to the arcade. We should have privacy there."

"Can we run instead?"

Jacob looked at Remy's stern expression and replied. "Very well, if you insist."

Giving a small bow, Jacob thanked the priests around him. With haste, he and Remy jogged off down a side hallway. In short time, the two of them came to a set of glass doors leading out onto a short veranda that overlooked one of the many small courtyards within the Spirit Guild. As Jacob closed the doors behind them, he scanned the grounds. Although a few church members walked about the courtyard, Jacob surveyed for a place to speak in quiet. He gestured to an empty corner of the small garden and walking over, found an unoccupied and secluded bench.

"So what news have you brought me?" Jacob inquired.

Remy shook her head. "I'm sorry Jacob."

"For what?"

Remy checked herself, looked up, and began, "Within the hour your guild will be notified of another murder."

Jacob stared at her, shocked. The only thought running through his mind was how this tragedy could happen again.

"It was Pascal," Remy said apologetically.

Jacob shook his head slowly, "No. Please no."

"It came across on the police blotter. I picked it up at home, then went to check for myself."

Arching forward, Jacob bowed his head.

Remy continued, "It wasn't until I made it to the scene that I knew it was him. I'm so sorry Jacob."

From his hunched over position, Jacob whispered, "We have lost so much blood."

Remy reached her hand out and touched Jacob's shoulder. She could feel the heat of his body emanating from beneath his robes. And though she wasn't sure, she thought she felt a slight trembling, anger or sadness perhaps, coursing through his body. Before Remy had the chance to decide, Jacob raised his head and with practiced calmness quietly looked across the courtyard.

"What will they think," Jacob gestured over the area. "My people. They are here to be saved Ms. Stone. I see them try, every day, to overcome their fears and difficulties. They pray to their Gods and they seek the guidance of the guild. But how can they find the light when such terror decides it should be snuffed out? Faith is not perfect. It does not protect from everything. And even in the most devout it can be broken."

Remy squeezed Jacob's shoulder, "Listen Jacob. Now is the time, I need your help. The Elders called me here to aid you all. And if you want to stop this madness, you'll work with me now."

A welling grew in Jacob's stomach as he listened to Remy's words. She was right. What could be done against an invisible enemy if the Spirit Guild stood divided? For a woman who lacked a belief in God's grace, Remy was proving to be one of the most devoted people Jacob had ever met. He nodded his head.

Remy continued, "With that said, there's more information you should know."

"I'm ready," Jacob said with redoubled firmness.

Remy dug into her satchel and pulled Augustus's Spirit Guild coin from its pocket. Holding it in her palm the metal piece felt solid and heavy. Its brilliant gold reflected in the sun. Jacob reached down and grabbed the coin between his thumb and index finger. Raising it, he looked at it in the light. Remy could see Jacob's mind working, processing what it meant to be holding Augustus's token in his hand.

Remy spoke, "I found it beside Pascal's body, on the ground. There were too many people to do any real forensic work, but I was able to take this without being noticed. I suppose Augustus didn't pay for Marcus's passing then, did he?"

Jacob looked past the coin at Remy, "He very much did. Which means-."

"I'm not sure what it means," Remy interrupted the Archbishop. She didn't want him heading down a wrong line of conclusions. "It could mean any number of things like, for instance, a payment of debt or a calling card or maybe just happenstance. I'm not jumping to conclusions. Yet."

"I don't think it was, as you said, happenstance. These coins are valuable and always accounted for within our guild. But, I'm not sure what it would be used for as payment in this case if not for the passing of a church elder. Transactions like the one between Augustus and Pascal rarely occur between Elders. They are usually paid to the church directly as offerings."

Remy rubbed her chin, thinking, "Well, like I said, the information isn't conclusive."

"Yes, but Remy, I believe it is beginning to make sense, as much as I don't want to believe it. You know now, as well as I, Augustus has all the information he needs to pillage our guild. It would be easy for him to accomplish whatever malicious deeds he might have in mind, considering his status."

Remy continued rubbing her chin. She didn't buy it. Why would Augustus go to the trouble of clandestinely murdering his fellow clergymen only to leave a calling card? Even though both necklaces were missing, Remy was still hard pressed to point a finger. She remembered the research she had done the day before. The drug she'd found in Marcus's blood wasn't consistent with Augustus's potential motive. Why would Augustus have needed to interrogate Marcus with a truth serum?

Remy spoke up, "There's something else I need to tell you. It's not going to sound good and it certainly doesn't put Augustus in any better a light."

Jacob lowered the coin, "And what is that?"

"Pascal's necklace is gone. It wasn't on his neck when I saw him."

Jacob shot up from his seat. "This isn't so!" he exclaimed.

Remy stood up quickly after him, "I could be wrong about him having it somewhere else, maybe it was lost in his robes, but my intuition tells me it wasn't on his person."

Scratching his head, Jacob's eyes darted around. "This isn't good. This isn't good at all."

"I need to see Pascal's quarters," Remy commanded, trying to leverage Jacob's tenuous state. "Anything that might point us in the right direction is critical now."

"Follow me." Jacob turned and paced back the way he and Remy had entered the courtyard.

High in the Citadel, an air of innocence floated through the halls. Less than a mile from the Spirit Guild lay a dead member of its congregation. And without news of the recent affairs having made its way this far yet, Elders and priests walked the corridors continuing in their daily business blissful and unaware.

Jacob's walk had turned to a brisk jog as he and Remy entered the top floors of the building. As when Remy had been ushered to see Marcus, so too were they now headed to another Elder's chambers with purpose.

Approaching Pascal's room Jacob spoke, "I admit, I have not seen Augustus in the last day. It is unusual considering the committees he attends. I often see him roaming the halls with his colleagues before and after meetings."

"Let's see what we can find," Remy urged.

Approaching Pascal's quarters, Jacob tried the handle on its door. To his surprise it swung open with little resistance.

"Odd," Jacob said, concern obvious in his voice. "This should not be unlocked."

Remy moved past him into the living space. Pascal's room had a similar aesthetic to Marcus'. Its modest appeal spoke about someone who lived a minimal existence, unburdened by the opulence of worldly objects and focused on prayer without distraction.

On the walls, a multitude of paintings hung. Oils on canvas, charcoal on paper, and pencil sketches all graced the room's vertical surfaces. Remy recognized some of them as masterful works from Magna's most famous names, artists like Achille, Odilon, and Roparzh. Getting one's hands on an original from any of these individuals was a difficult task and highly prized. Remy was impressed to see the valuable assortment in Pascal's tiny quarters.

Looking around, Remy took in the feel of the room. On one side, under a large spanning window, a wide desk sat propped against the wall. It appeared more a tool of function than form, built of sturdy construction and plain in its heftiness. Its unpainted finish echoed that of the flooring and dressers.

From bed sheets to drapes, muted colors dominated the linens. Everything in the room seemed to point to a subdued and unassuming lifestyle. Remy imagined living in this small space. It reminded her of what eating the same unspiced and bland meal over again might be like. Without flavor, she couldn't do it.

Jacob began to walk the perimeter of the room, doing his best to appear like he knew what he was looking for. Remy turned and started her own scan of the room, standing where she was. Like Marcus's room, the scene looked lived in, but not unnaturally disturbed. The papers on the desk looked ruffled through, though not bent or displaced in a manner that alarmed Remy.

The same was true for the bed, slightly unmade, but not tossed about or turned over. If anything, it looked like Pascal had been interrupted in the middle of his daily routine, chores unfinished, having to leave his quarters in haste.

Remy pulled her gloves from her satchel, slid them on, and walked to the clothes dresser. Opening its drawers, rows of neatly folded garments peeked out from within. She ran her hand under the length of each compartment, feeling for unevenness or inconsistencies in the surface that might indicate a secret compartment or taped message.

Coming up empty handed Remy moved to the desk. Unlike Marcus, Pascal's paperwork was filled with personal prose. Poems, stories, and sermon preparations filled the pages. Remy scanned the words for anything informative but, like the dresser, nothing unordinary stood out.

"It's strange," Remy spoke out loud. "I get the feeling the killer never had contact with Pascal here. Even if Pascal knew who the person was, I don't see evidence of their presence."

"Pascal and Augustus were good friends, albeit polarized in their personalities. Perhaps in some warped sense of ethics, Augustus could not bear to see Pascal die in his own home," Jacob mused, forlorn.

"Again, that's assuming Augustus did it," Remy tapped her foot, concerned about Jacob's growing certainty that the Elder was responsible.

Jacob shook his head and continued his topical search around the room. Remy turned and walked back to the center of the living space. If there was any clue Pascal left, she thought, where would he hide it?

Looking back and forth around the room, the inconsistency struck her like a shock. Remy had seen it all along. If anything were out of the ordinary, it was the excessive art. The walls were filled with it.

"Jacob, would you come over here?" Remy pulled a handkerchief from her bag and tossed it to him. "We're going to look at a few of these paintings, but I don't want you contaminating the scene."

"Hmm, alright," Jacob stared at the white cloth in his hands.

"Don't worry, it's not used," Remy joked.

The look on Jacob's face had unamused written across it.

Remy continued, "Not funny, I know. Can you help me pull up a few of these paintings? Lift them back so we can get a look behind."

Jacob nodded and moved to the opposite end of the wall. The two worked toward each other, gently putting their hands beneath the framed pieces and doing their best to peer underneath. Remy wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she knew that at times artists might wire messages or envelopes to the back of their canvases. It was a place to store attributions or, otherwise.

As they approached the last few images, Remy's hopes grew thin. Overturning every piece of furniture, clothing, and surface wasn't an option. And there wasn't much else she and Jacob could do to investigate Pascal's room. Stopping the murder spree and retrieving the necklaces still felt as far away as when Remy had begun. The thought didn't settle well.

And given that Arthur had chewed her out on being involved with the Spirit Guild, Remy couldn't go to him for further developments. Arthur and Tess had full access to Pascal's body and the center square murder scene. Remy hoped things would start turning up for the police.

Distracted, Remy jolted the heavy framed piece of art in her hands. From behind the painting, a crumpled piece of paper dislodged and fell to the ground with a thud. Putting the image back in its place, Remy bent over and fished the paper from the ground.

"It's heavy," Remy noted. The thick beige paper felt as though it contained a bulk within. "I think something's inside."

Peeling the paper open, Remy revealed a coin. In the blink of an eye Jacob thrust out his hand and grabbed it.

"Another one!" Jacob exclaimed. "That bastard."

Remy looked at Jacob's hand. As shiny and as similar as the one Remy had given Jacob in the courtyard, another of Augustus's guild coins rested in Jacob's palm.

On the unfolded paper, two words stood out in scrawled handwriting. Remy silently mouthed them as she read.

_'Only Augustus._ '

The message was damning. If Jacob needed any further evidence to believe wholeheartedly his superior was guilty of murder, here it was. Holding the message up within Jacob's line of sight, Remy handed it over so he could read it.

Jacob scanned the words, playing them over and over in his mind. When he finally spoke, Remy heard Jacob's carefully masked agitation start to crack, "I realize your unwillingness to place blame helps you think objectively Remy, but you must surely think now something is amiss. I implore you to consider us turning Augustus over to the Police Guild for questioning as soon as possible."

Remy couldn't deny the evidence in her hand. Deferring judgment on Augustus at this point might provide disastrous. At the very least, with Augustus in custody, he would be safe from any attempts on his life. Remy had seen witch hunts before, and she didn't want an innocent person taken down.

"Alright, I'll compromise. This note and the coins are evidence enough. If I were you, I'd notify the police as soon as we leave the room. If I weren't subject to arrest just for being here, I'd do it myself." Remy scoffed at her last words and continued, "But until Augustus is found there's not much we can do."

"Yes Ms. Stone," Jacob slowly moved his head in agreement. It was nice to see Remy coming around. Considering the revelations of recent, Jacob was hard pressed to understand why Remy hadn't made the decision to implicate Augustus sooner. "Let us leave so I may send word about this finding and strengthen the guild's security."

Remy handed the note to Jacob and they moved away from where they stood by the wall, heading back out the entrance of Pascal's living quarters. In the upper corridors of the Citadel Remy and Jacob were confronted with the continuing sounds of naive discourse and footfall. It appeared word of Pascal's passing still had not yet reached the Citadel, Remy thought. She didn't mind the lull before the storm.

At the elevators, Remy turned to Jacob and held his gaze, "I'll return after you're finished with the police. Just send word. I'd like to find out what those crack shots at the precinct think about this most recent turn of events."

It was nice to have an ally on her side, Remy thought. It was an occurrence, beside Arthur, that hadn't happened since her exile. Looking at Jacob, she smiled, relinquishing into the small happiness that touched her.

Smiling back, Jacob put his hand on Remy's arms. "That sounds fine. I look forward to your returning. Go safely Ms. Stone."

### Chapter 10

Arthur and Tess walked purposefully through the precinct as the desks flew by. The day had brought a flurry of events, punctuated by the murder scene in the center square. And even yet, there was more to finish before the sun set. With Jacob's wire to the Police Guild, additional fresh evidence had recently presented itself and was welcome news.

"Tess, I'll be damned if I don't put this guy behind bars in a hot minute," Arthur barked. "Imagine your superior on a crime spree against Central! It's a tough thought and it doesn't sit well."

"Well we don't know what bringing in Augustus will lead to, but I'll say I'm looking forward to grilling him." Tess lifted her eyebrows and rolled her head to the side. "Fighting blind hasn't quite made me a star performer back at headquarters."

Arthur understood Tess's frustration. Arthur's longing for a shot at Central Guild hinged upon his good and dutiful conduct as a policeman, as well as closing cases. Being left out on a lurch with the Spirit Guild, he imagined his otherwise good track record must be somewhat challenged by now.

Arthur affirmed, "Let's review our report with Lee and strike while the iron's hot. If we can get our warrants approved right away, we'll be in good shape."

"I don't think Central will have a problem fast tracking our request. They're already grinding their teeth on this one."

Passing the final set of desks, Arthur and Tess moved in front of Lee's windowed office. Arthur raised a fist and lightly banged his knuckle on the glass. Looking up from his documents, Lee waved the two policemen in.

"Shut the door you two," Lee's gruff impatience indicated he wasn't in the position to waste time. "I'm reviewing your reports now."

Tess closed the door behind her and Arthur as they entered, each taking a seat before the chief. Silence hung in the room as Lee looked back down at the files on his desk. Arthur and Tess exchanged glances.

"Sir?" Arthur cleared his throat.

"One second Arthur," Lee shot back just as quick as the policeman had spoken. Lee continued to move his head back and forth reading the lines of printed text and flipping between photographs.

Arthur sat back and crossed his fingers.

Still looking down, Lee raised his voice, "I should really be chewing you both out for this murder. I told you both I didn't want any more dead men on my watch. You remember that, right?" Lee raised his head and gave a disdainful look at the two public servants sitting across the desk.

"Yes sir," Tess responded. "This was. Unexpected."

"It certainly was," Lee said, looking down his nose.

"Tess, you realize you're an expendable commodity, correct?"

Tess shifted uncomfortably in her chair, "That is true sir. Central has a bank of officers like me ready for deployment. My recall could come at any time considering the nature of what we're dealing with here."

"And Arthur," Lee turned his head to meet Arthur's uncertain gaze. "You and I have worked together for a long time. But would it be fair to say a certain amount of incompetency deserves removal and review from specific duties?"

Lee's words made Arthur's stomach turn. The last thing Arthur wanted was to be taken off the case, especially with the recent breaks. He and Tess were just making headway. Arthur knew being removed would be a significant blow to his future assignments and promotional prospects.

"So, let's just say I'm not very happy about this latest development." Lee spoke coolly and direct. "That said. I have reviewed your reports and am pleased to see your recommendations for an arrest."

"Without hesitation sir." Arthur gritted his teeth and pushed aside his uneasiness. "We have strong reason to believe Augustus, an Elder of the Spirit Guild, needs to be brought in. Additionally, we've received notification of sufficient evidence to hold the suspect in custody."

Lee perked up in his seat. "What evidence are you referring to?"

Tess broke in, "Jacob, an archbishop from the Spirit Guild found a note referencing Augustus by name in association with what he described as a guild coin. A calling card you might say."

Lee responded, "Is there any way we can link this note to Augustus? By handwriting or something of that nature?"

"That's what we'd like to find out." Tess replied.

Arthur opened his hands and leaned forward in his chair. "If we can get a search or arrest warrant wired, we'll bring Augustus in tonight."

Lee sat back and looked again at the papers on his desk. "Depends. I'd grant them right away, but Central's a little pickier." He reached for a photo and flipped it around.

The soft pattern of a boot, etched in dust, sat framed in the picture. Tess noted how the police photographer had done a good job of lighting the image. The same boot print had appeared much more obscured in the darkly lit bell tower in the center square, almost unnoticeable where she and Arthur had spent time reviewing the scene.

"You feel confident this is the mark of a shoe worn by someone in the Spirit Guild?" Lee quizzed Arthur.

"We've run the print across our records. It matches the only cobbler in Magna which shoes the Spirit Guild. Granted they don't make footwear exclusively for the church, but I am confident the case can be made for implicating our errant Elder. It's a traceable pattern." Arthur said confidently from his chair.

"And what do you think?" Lee turned his attention to Tess.

"I think we need to see Jacob's evidence and get our hands on a pair of Augustus's shoes. If we want to put a nail in this guy, it's going to take more than conjecture. We need those warrants and we can't wait."

Lee set down the photo and wrung his hands, staring up at the ceiling. For a long moment he thought about what Tess and Arthur wanted. He couldn't grant them authority to arrest Augustus, that would come from Central, but he could grant them a temporary search injunction. If Tess and Arthur only needed to gather the right evidence, Lee wouldn't be too far out on the line. The two policemen could get started while Central processed the issue.

Sitting forward, Lee lowered his voice, "Central might come back with the search and arrest warrants tonight. They might not. I say if we don't get in there now, we'll be sorry."

Arthur lit up at Lee's words. He knew the chief would be ready to make a move when the opportunity presented itself.

Lee continued in his softly spoken tone, "I'll send your reports forward with the notification of preliminary evidence we'll be providing. In the meantime, I'm issuing a cordoning off of Augustus's living quarters in the Citadel. Just lock it down for me over there, will you? And if you happen to catch a glimpse of Augustus's shoe size, I'm sure no one will notice."

Tess stood up, excited, "Contact Jacob about our findings and a full lockdown on Augustus's living area. You got it sir."

Lee rose from his chair to meet her, "Just one more thing."

"What's that chief?" Tess asked.

"This is the last chance you're taking. If anything else goes upside down on this case, you're both out."

Arthur raised himself from where he was sitting and leaned forward on Lee's desk. "The final straw Lee. I'll take myself off this case if we don't find anything. I promise it."

Lee raised an eyebrow and nodded, "You'd better be ready. Now get me my suspect."

### Chapter 11

The sight greeted Remy like a careening truck as she opened her apartment door. From top to bottom, her house looked as though a tornado had touched down and collected its contents, flinging them with violent force in every direction.

Standing in the empty hallway, Remy wondered how such chaos could have occurred while she was gone. She had only been away for a few hours and during an unusual sort of business. It struck her as odd that whoever was responsible for the destruction before her had the foresight to know she would be gone and for enough time to cause this extent of damage.

Examining the door's lock, Remy didn't see signs of forced entry. No pry marks, broken handles, or splintered wood. Either the transgressor was an expert at picking locks or, worse yet, possessed a key to her apartment.

Looking to her left, then right, down the hallway where she stood Remy stepped inside her apartment and shut the door, wisps of fear touching at her awareness.

The living room, a usual place of sanctuary and general cleanliness had turned into the ruins of a war-torn battlefield. Lamps and half-height drawers lay toppled over the glass-strewn floor where a battered coffee table sat in hefty, gutted chunks. Shelving had also been tossed aside, broken objects of art in equally destroyed disarray. Even Remy's plants hadn't been spared, uprooted with the dirt from their pots peppered about.

Avoiding the glass, Remy moved into the apartment and threw down her bag. As her gaze traveled to the back of the room, beyond the living space to the adjoining work area, she could see the extent of the upheaval continued.

Remy darted past the large leather and brass billeted couches toward her workstation. The desk had been wiped clean, her books, journals, and microscope thrown clear of the surface and smashed upon the ground. In addition, her wire messaging box and its shiny brass housing sat demolished, smashed into a barely recognizable pulp of a machine.

Beside the desk, Remy's carefully organized bookshelf was a pile of texts on the ground. Though not torn apart, the books sat in a mound of parchment and binding, loose note papers which had interspersed the pages were now strewn everywhere. Remy imagined how long it would take to reorganize things and shivered.

Whoever was responsible for the ransacking had done an exceptionally thorough job, Remy thought. It appeared more a statement than a random act. And the efforts were executed with a sort of order, albeit blunt force and rudimentary.

A pit of anxiety tightened in Remy's stomach and she rushed to her bedroom. It too was the victim of the careless and destructive assault. Her mattress lay overturned and bed stands thrown aside. Clothes blanketed the landscape.

Remy rushed to a bank of closets on the far side of the bedroom. Sliding the doors aside, she rummaged past storage bins and stacked boxes. The fact that they were unmoved was a good sign. Just behind, Remy poked her fingers at the bottom edge of the wall. Falling forward, it came away as expected. Fumbling with the handle of a small, hidden cabinet concealed behind, she opened its door and reached back, pulling its contents onto the floor.

Remy's heart sank. The hidden safe sat unlocked and open. Where Remy's illegal revolver and ammunition should have been secure away from the world, nothing remained. A generous hole had been bored through the safe's locking mechanism, rendering it useless.

Remy sat back, her mind ablaze with questions and conjectures. Someone had known about the placement of the safe!? They had to. How otherwise could they have known to find it in as an innocuous and secured spot as where Remy had hidden it away? Beyond that, the perpetrators had the foresight to put back the wall and reassemble the boxes and bins, obscuring the fact that the secret hiding place had been compromised.

Worse still was the fact that the gun and bullets were purchased off the black market. Remy had done what she could to keep the weapon safe, but that wouldn't shield her if word got back to her friends who'd sold her the firearm. And if the weapon was fired and bullet traces matched, it would point an incriminating finger at Remy's connections.

Though the theft of an unmarked and illegal weapon made sense, the purpose for it was elusive, Remy thought. If the person responsible were interested in a weapon, they could reasonably skulk around the dark recesses of Magna to find one.

While the gun itself was unremarkable, Remy considered, her circumstances weren't. Recently exiled. Mixed up in a string of high-profile murders. Closer to Arthur and the Police Guild than she should be. The list went on. If anyone wanted Remy's weapon, they had plenty of reasons to use it. Remy was the perfect scapegoat.

Remy walked back to the living room and surveyed the scene. Looking over the sea of debris, she locked onto the smashed messaging box and the realization struck her. How was Jacob supposed to get in touch with her now that their means of communication was severed?

Picking her bag up from where she'd left it among the rubble, Remy hefted it across her shoulder. Although she didn't know where to start, sorting the apartment's mess would have to wait. Breathing a final sigh of disbelief, Remy opened the door and slipped out into the early evening once again.

### Chapter 12

Having roamed the bustling streets of Magna before returning to the Citadel, Remy gave herself ample time to avoid the police, those who would be finished responding to Jacob by now. Indeed, as Remy approached the church there was no sign of a police presence – personnel, vehicles, or otherwise – and the little apprehension she harbored about heading back to Jacob disappeared.

The burnished sun, closing in on the horizon, lit the Citadel like a fiery beacon. The building's white facade reflected oranges and reds with a radiant brilliance and Remy imagined herself entering a great furnace, fueling its flames as she walked through the archway doors.

The business at the interior of the Citadel died down at this time. Although the church's Grand Chapel remained open, the rest of the edifice would soon be shut off from any further congregation or visitors. The night hour brought with it a staunch vacancy and as Remy approached the large entryway, she saw its emptiness.

Entering deeper into the expansive foyer Remy wondered how she was going to find Jacob. Without the presence of church officials now, it would be more difficult to send word. Thinking, she set off toward the elevators.

The Citadel's directory hung against a wall opposite the bank of lifts. It's huge list of church officials went on, covering what Remy imagined was most of the guild staff. Remy picked out Jacob's name from among the exhaustive index, noting his floor but finding no room number.

Calling the elevator, Remy dug into her pouch. Turning her head to make sure she was alone, she fished out a small set of torsion wrenches and a hook pick. When the lift doors opened, Remy quickly slid in and hit the 'close' button.

Jacob was located on the administration levels, high into the reaches of the Citadel where Marcus and Pascal's quarters were. The area was unreachable without proper access, as Remy recalled. She punched in the button for the top of the building and held her breath. The machine hissed into movement.

Nearing the upper, inaccessible reaches of the Citadel, Remy reached down and clicked over the 'stop' switch in the elevator, bringing the lift to an abrupt halt. Kneeling, she brought the single keyhole in the call bank to her eyes and examined it. The apparatus was a typical cylinder lock set flush into the elevator's keypad.

Without hesitation Remy flew into action. Setting a torsion wrench into the lock's vertical slot she gently pulled against it. Sliding the hook pick in beside the wrench, she began to carefully flick the small metal rod up against the pins. Little by little the pins found their seat as the lock tumbler turned ever closer to its open position.

A commotion from the other side of the elevator pulled Remy out of her concentration. She could hear muffled voices beginning a confused dialogue.

"I don't know, the thing isn't working. I've pressed the buttons already. It's stuck," said the first voice.

A second voice piped up, "Well, call somebody. I can't remember the last time this elevator broke down. Is someone in there?"

The muted, disembodied words floated through the crack in the steel and brass doors like a warning siren. Remy looked back at her work and hurried to finish.

As the final pin slid into place the lock clicked open and Remy let out her breath. Flicking the 'stop' switch back off, she jammed the button for Jacob's floor. The elevator reengaged and started again in its upward trajectory as the sounds of knocking fists from outside the lift slowly faded into silence.

The hallways on the fiftieth floors, like the Citadel entrance far below, had emptied out. Though some priestly figures roamed the corridors, Remy found herself mostly alone. Her brief nods as she walked past groups of twos and threes seemed enough to allay concerns that she might be some unwelcome guest. It wasn't a wonder someone with malicious intent could walk these halls unnoticed.

But Remy still faced the problem of finding Jacob. Without his room number she didn't have a clear direction. And she wasn't keen on risking her presence near the top of the Citadel. Instead, Remy thought, where would Jacob go to reflect if not in his personal chambers. A place quiet and elusive, providing the type of privacy needed to mourn a loss.

Remy hastened her pace toward the Sunwell. If Jacob was anywhere, perhaps the small patio garden where she and the Archbishop spoke earlier was her best guess. Skirting past the circular forum, Remy kept her head down. She did her best to quiet the footfall of her boots as she made her way to the end of the Sunwell's open area and back into the corridor, not looking up to see how many clergy might be staring at her odd presence.

Remy made up the rest of the distance between her and the glass patio doors with a small jog. Taking a deep breath, she balled a fist and gently tapped on the paneling. From somewhere beyond the obscured doorway a figure stirred. Remy prayed she hadn't made a mistake.

Jacob's solid presence was a welcome sight. Having shed his clerical robes, he now stood in a simple short sleeved, collarless shirt and a pair of modest fisherman pants tied at the waist with a sash. Taking up most of the doorframe, Remy hadn't noticed his large stature which, until now, had been mostly covered.

Looking into Jacob's eyes Remy gave a tired smile. Mirroring her sentiments, Jacob smiled back, understanding their shared exhaustion. Yes, their adventure wasn't over. A killer still roamed, uncaught and menacing. But at this moment, the two of them were here together, safe.

Remy started, "I'm glad to see you."

"You as well." The light in Jacob's eyes told Remy this much was true.

"I-. I-." Remy paused. She wanted to tell Jacob about the violation of her apartment but thought to wait. "Did the police come by?"

"They did." Jacob's voice was warm and assuring. "There was a full work up of Augustus's quarters."

"Was anything found?"

"I'm unsure. Nothing was said to me." Jacob looked away for a moment then back at Remy. "But Augustus's room was taped off, inaccessible now."

Remy considered the restriction. "All the same. If the police think they have enough evidence to go after Augustus, that's what they'll do. When he's found, we'll have some answers. And that's better than what we have at the moment."

Jacob nodded then tilted his head and spoke, "What were you going to say? Before you asked about the police?"

"Oh." Remy falsified a laugh and averted her gaze. The thought of the apartment's destruction sent chills across her body. "It's nothing."

"It does not seem to be. Your look belies the truth. Even if you do not believe in a priest's confidence, at least consider me a concerned friend."

Remy brought her eyes back to Jacob's piercing gaze. Here was a man who could listen and comfort. Through years of practice he had honed his ability to support the journey of his congregation. And in truth, Remy didn't want to be alone. There could be worse things than confiding in a holy man, Remy thought, though perhaps not much.

"My apartment. It was overturned." Remy quieted her voice. "I found it that way when I left here earlier." She crossed her arms and bowed her head.

"I'm sorry," Jacob's words came soft and comforting and before Remy could react, she felt his arms around her in a gentle embrace.

Where she might have been offended by a hug in any other circumstance, Jacob's embrace was genuine and welcome. Remy understood his touch held no expectation, unbridled from manipulative intent. She sunk into his arms unthinking.

"Thank you, Jacob."

For a moment they stood there, Remy in comfort and Jacob providing solace. Finally, Remy lifted her head and broke the hold. She continued, "Do you mind if I stay here, in the Citadel tonight? I prefer not to go home this evening."

Jacob looked down and smiled, nodding. "Of course."

"Thanks," A wave of relief washed over Remy.

Jacob thought for a second, then raised his voice, "Let us walk. I want to show you a special place. Not many individuals get to see it. I think you might appreciate it."

Remy looked inquisitively at the youthful man, "Okay. Impress me."

Jacob laughed. Closing the patio door behind him he put a hand on the small of Remy's back and guided her forward. "This way."

The private staircase they'd taken stretched for floors upward into a small, tight well culminating in a single, large door. To Remy the space felt confined and she wondered what she might find on the other side of the portal so high in the Citadel. Sensing Remy's apprehensiveness, Jacob moved in front of her and put a key into the handle.

"I would prefer if you closed your eyes. It might enhance the experience," Jacob proffered.

He'd gotten her this far, Remy thought. Why not? She humored him and rested the palms of her hands against her face. In one motion Jacob turned the handle and pushed open the heavy door. Remy was nearly pushed over as a warm burst of air confronted her.

"Steady," Jacob called out, putting a hand on her shoulder and anchoring her. Together they walked forward into the heavy gale. As they progressed the wind's strength died, replaced by an eerie silence punctuated by the occasional call of a bird. The air around Remy felt nice and she wondered where it was Jacob had taken her.

"Okay. You are welcome to open your eyes," Jacob released his arm from around Remy and she dropped her hands.

Remy and Jacob stood atop the Citadel on an elevated and wall-less platform. Punctuated by large, abstract concrete slabs and fixtures from where plants grew, the artistic use of open space was reminiscent of an abstract painting. Aside from the door through which she and Jacob just entered, there were no obstructions of the near endless view afforded by the exceptional place.

Estimating the platform at about thirty feet across, Remy noted she and Jacob were higher than any other construction across Magna's grand landscape. They were both hidden by height, unnoticeable from any lower vantage point and, at the same time, completely exposed in its open, borderless construction. The contrasting nature of the space tickled Remy's stomach and she felt a smile cross her mouth. "It's exquisite."

"The highest place in the city in fact. I thought you would like it." Jacob walked to the opposite end of the platform, crossing his arms. "Just be careful about the sides." He motioned his head toward the lack of reinforcement at the edges.

"What is this place?"

"You might say it is an offering. Long ago, before guilds and when our practices were more archaic, elevated spaces represented a place to supplicate the gods. Grain, meat, wine, these types of things were offered in an appeal for the infinite kindness and blessings of our creator." Jacob peered over the city, focused. Remy wondered if Jacob's innate need to tend his flock extended beyond the Spirit Guild and out over the entirety of Magna.

Jacob continued, "Today, as a guild, we encompass many religions and many beliefs. While we no longer exercise some of our practices literally, this platform lies above the reaches of even the mightiest artifices in Magna. It stands as our memorial and connection to the spirits beyond this world. We come here to pay homage to our history, our present, and our future."

Remy looked out over the horizon shimmering in the evening heat. Similar to the mountains that framed the horizon, the blurred line of buildings in the far distance rose and fell. As her eyes traveled downward and closer to where the Citadel stood, the ethereal visage of the city far below became clearer and more vibrant. It was difficult to imagine everything sitting below wasn't a dreamscape, Remy thought. It certainly appeared so.

"Tell me, why religion for you?" Remy broke the silence hoping she wasn't too blunt.

Jacob moved closer to the center of the platform, passing between the large concrete installations growing from its surface. "I think you misunderstand Remy. To me religion is a way to connect to that which we may not understand or fully comprehend. Religion refers to a power greater than us."

Remy rubbed her arms as the warm air coursed up against the edge of where she stood. "Yes, but in that case aren't you just making excuses? Why not search for the truth with your bare hands? I put my head into books and microscopes to make sense of the world around me. It seems that you are content with the mystery of the unknown, chalking it up to some fictitious being who may or may not provide you answers."

Jacob smiled and looked at the trellised vine beside him. Taking a leaf between his fingers, he felt the smooth waxiness of it. "Consider this plant."

Remy turned away from the platform's edge and looked at Jacob.

Jacob continued, "We understand how it grows, how light aids photosynthesis and the formation of new cells coaxes it to reach ever higher toward the sun. But there are things about this plant I do not know. For instance, what might this vine look like in a year from now? Or, how long might it live? In fact, we may ask the same questions about ourselves. It is in my faith that I find comfort in those things which are not explained."

Remy stared at Jacob, processing his words and playing it against her inborn prejudices. After a moment, she addressed him. "Then in that regard, I am not one of faith Jacob. I don't need a mysterious energy to fill the void created by a lack of knowledge. My comfort is in knowing there is much to learn, and I choose not to be scared of the unknown."

Jacob nodded his head. "That I am sure of Ms. Stone." Releasing the leaf, Jacob walked to a large, low-slung concrete slab and sat. The wind tussled his short, dark hair. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and peered out at the setting sun, squinting his eyes.

Remy watched the young, patient man at rest on the stone. For someone without age to story him, he was resolute and reflective in his years. Granted, she wasn't much older than he, but Remy felt an affinity for Jacob's pensive and doting nature. Remy couldn't help but think she and Jacob were similar creatures.

Uncrossing her arms, Remy moved to the area where Jacob sat. "Look. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend."

"You have not offended me Ms. Stone. I can see you are as steadfast in your views as I am in mine." Jacob continued to peer out toward the sky beyond. "Beautiful sunset though, don't you think?"

The clouds, now warm pastel hues of reds and oranges blanketed the sky. Radiating from beneath them and touching the horizon, the sun bestowed its light across the bottoms of their puffy masses. Remy had truly not seen a sunset like this in quite some time. Certainly, never from this height.

"It is," she said looking out. Then, chuckling, conceded, "Maybe in another life a sunset like this could make me believe in God."

Walking to Jacob, Remy sat. With a deep breath, she leaned against Jacob's side and dropped her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. "But, just because I don't believe in God doesn't mean I don't believe in humanity. I imagine humanity as the last bastion of hope even in all the ugliness it offers, its dark humor and its carelessness."

Jacob turned his head to look down at Remy. The smell of her hair filled his nose with an earthy, natural scent. It reminded him of the incense often burned in the Grand Chapel to indicate mass. Jacob was surprised to feel a surge of adrenaline course through him.

Remy went on, "I believe in humanity's warmth too though. It doesn't happen all the time, but when it does that's enough. When I see the human spirit triumph, I'm happy. And, in that, I don't need anything else. I'm content." She turned her head and opened her eyes. Jacob's face stood inches away.

Remy could see the smooth flawlessness of his skin. Jacob's chiseled features were in stark contrast to her softer curves. Unthinking, Remy raised a hand to Jacob's cheek. The clean-shaven smoothness under her fingers felt different than the more rugged appearance of the men whose company she usually took. In front of Remy was a person unusual in companionship – warm, comforting, inviting – and it stirred something deep and unmoved inside.

Without thought, Remy moved her mouth to Jacob's and took his lips in hers. They were every bit as soft and supple as they had looked, gently parted before her. Though Remy wasn't sure how Jacob might react, to her surprise he closed his mouth and returned the gesture. For a moment, time sat suspended and they shared relief from the world around them.

Pulling away, Remy opened her eyes and saw Jacob's long stare. Hesitantly, she approached what she imagined crossed both their minds. "Your priestly vows?"

"Do not preclude me from a partner's touch," Jacob finished Remy's thought. "But I must say, it has been a very long time." Having denied such primal urges for as long as he could remember, Jacob's feelings were now awakened and raw.

Returning Jacob's gaze, Remy again pushed her mouth against his. In her gesture she imagined she was taking a stand. Damn those responsible for destroying her apartment. Damn her exile. Damn life's unfairness. Remy only wanted the world around her to melt away, to forget the injustices exacted against those who didn't deserve it. She wanted to return to the simplicity of life before disarray and confusion. And in Jacob's tender embrace, Remy saw herself let go.

### Chapter 13

The morning sun cut through the blinds like a blade, catching Remy's closed eyes in its path. Slowly stirring awake, she peered from under groggy eyelids into the gently brightening room. Against her naked body, the copious down comforter felt like a cocoon, deliciously warm.

As her vision slowly adjusted, the contents of the modern space formed around her. Rich brown and beige tones composed the base colors of the interior décor. Soft grays and whites accented the small room's borders and nooks. For a moment Remy couldn't put a finger on where she was until, looking to her side, she saw Jacob's large, unclothed frame peacefully asleep.

Oh. My. God. The events of last night began rolling into consciousness. Her destroyed apartment. Meeting Jacob in the Citadel. The views from the crow's nest high above the city. And the sex. The wonderful, enlightening, liberating sex. Remy shook her head, wondering if she'd dreamt the whole thing.

Looking again at Jacob's built, muscular body, Remy smiled. It most certainly hadn't been her imagination. The fiery night they'd spent together, enraptured in each other's arms, was proven by the spent man lying beside her.

And what time had they fallen asleep? Remy recalled, albeit fuzzily, showering before collapsing into bed. Putting a hand to her head, her hair still felt wet. She and Jacob must have lasted late into the night.

Jacob shifted on his side. Remy smirked, imagining what kind of moral quandary he'd be confronted with when he woke up. To her, the events of last night felt effortless and natural. In her mind, there was no doubt that what they'd shared was profound and right. If Jacob found himself in an uncomfortable or compromised position, that was his to bear. Remy wasn't going to apologize for it.

The fog of sleep thinned as Remy surveyed Jacob's quarters. It was modest in size, similar to the Elder living spaces. While it could have been drab and unexciting, Jacob had done well to make the apartment a warm and inviting place. Sleek, handcrafted furniture married against the stark, hard lines of the paneled flooring. A simple variety of flowers and ficus plants punctuated the corners of the room. On each wall, ornate woven tapestries hung protected behind thick glass, each lit from below by small accent lights.

Stirring, Jacob opened his eyes. He paused a moment, taking in the view of Remy's slight, taut body sitting up in bed. She appeared angelic and innocent covering the front of her torso with the comforter and slowly reviewing his living quarters. The slender curve of her back and bottom encouraged Jacob's smile and he shook his head.

"Good morning sleepy," Remy said, still scanning the room.

"It is a good morning," Jacob agreed.

"So." Remy paused. She didn't want to breach the subject of having slept with a holy man, but here he was, lying right next to her. If there was anything Remy could do to prevent an awkward and remorse filled morning, she'd try. Perhaps, somewhere in hell, if there was such a place, a special seat was reserved just for her. "How was last night?"

"Last night was..." Jacob turned his head toward the window and thought. "Last night was wonderful."

Remy sighed in relief. Hearing Jacob validate their intimacy felt good, in a way that would make the rest of their time together on the case much easier. And, on the flip side, being scorned by a lover was never a good thing.

"I'm happy you think so." Remy shifted in her seated position and angled her body toward Jacob. Curiosity got the better of her. "Let me ask. Are there any repercussions I should be aware of from our actions last night?"

Jacob looked Remy in the eyes, "No, sex is not looked at as sin in my sect. While chastity is lauded, we are not prohibited from engaging in worldly endeavors. Though I will say my streak of abstinence has been broken."

"Oh, has it?" Remy furrowed her brow.

Jacob smiled in reassurance, propping himself on an elbow. "Let's just say I wouldn't be where I am today if there weren't a few non-churchly related experiences to shape me along the way."

"A few?" Remy chided, the temptation to kid Jacob was too sweet.

"I wasn't always as, excuse the immodesty, righteous as I am today. As you would say, I'm still human, aren't I?" Jacob gestured to himself.

"Undeniably." Their tryst last night was overwhelming evidence, Remy thought.

"And maybe we'll exchange stories someday. I'm sure we could learn a few things from each other's backgrounds."

For a moment Remy's mind shot to her exile. What could Jacob possibly tell her that she might learn from? If he knew her story, Jacob might not have made such a statement. But it was innocuous all the same. Maybe Jacob knew something she didn't, and Remy accepted his offer. "Yeah. Maybe someday we'll share stories. But we've got a few other important things to sort out in the meantime."

Jacob nodded, acknowledging Remy's attention to present concerns.

Dropping the bed covers, Remy reached above her head and stretched, exposing her small breasts and flat stomach. The room was warming, and the sun felt good against her skin.

Remy continued, "I've been thinking. I can't shake the message we found in Pascal's room. If Pascal thought Augustus was to blame, why wouldn't he have just approached your guild's council and called for Augustus's detention? Why the clandestine nature instead? Besides, Pascal's note is too literal for my taste. I can't imagine him implicating Augustus in such a small way."

Jacob turned Remy's words over in his mind. "I guess it is plausible that Pascal could have called for Augustus's detention by council."

"That makes more sense to me than beating around the bush with cryptic messages hidden behind paintings."

Jacob imagined Remy's point, but his focus on Augustus as prime suspect was strong. The Spirit Guild needed someone, anyone to pursue. And, although Jacob had known Augustus for decades, Augustus's irritable and gruff demeanor only made it easier in pointing a finger.

Moving the covers off her legs, Remy swung to the side of the bed. The floor was warmer than she expected, and she wriggled her toes against it. Leaning forward with firm commitment she rose to her feet.

The light silhouetted Remy's body, turning her into an ethereal, glowing visage. Jacob's heart jumped a beat and he was surprised to find that subduing his desirous impulses was harder than he imagined. The simple image of her backlit outline elicited in him a vivid response. He swallowed hard and worked to push the feelings aside.

Remy moved to the desk chair and bent over, snapping up her underwear. With poised grace she slipped them on and walked to the window, opening the blinds. The light fog blanketing Magna in the early morning hour obscured the rooftops and filled the streets. Soon it would burn off, she suspected, replaced by telltale puffs of steam powering the city's activities.

Remy continued as she looked out over the city, "What it all comes back to, Jacob, is the reason why we're here. The motivation for all these crimes."

Jacob shifted his gaze, still propped up and laying under the sheets. He cleared his throat and stayed quiet.

Remy turned, changing the focus of the conversation. "Tell me, what does your beloved Spirit Guild artifact look like?"

Jacob struggled in his decision to give Remy the information she was looking for. Only a few individuals within the Spirit Guild would ever be privy to the true importance of their guild relic. He harked back to Remy's words when she had informed him of Pascal's death. She had impressed the importance of them working together as a team.

Relenting, Jacob bowed his head and quietly prayed for absolution and forgiveness in his next actions.

"There." Jacob said, looking up and pointing to a large tapestry against the far wall.

In splendid detail an oddly familiar cube-like shape was woven abstractly into the wide length of a cloth. Soft, wispy edges seemed to flow away from the object's otherwise solid-looking construction and out toward the edges of the weaving. The fine, colored threading gave the cube the appearance of heavily undulating surfaces, rife with ridges and valleys. Between the peaks and falls, small embroidered rivers of blue ran in outward, spiraling directions.

"You mean that?" Remy pointed incredulously at the beautiful, yet strange piece.

"It is an artist's rendering, but yes. That is the object with which we find ourselves so highly concerned. That, Remy, is the Codex." Jacob continued to look away, unhappy that he had betrayed his covenantal bond to keep knowledge about the Codex in strict confidence.

"How odd." Remy mused walking to the image. Crossing her arms, she craned her neck and studied its intricacies. "A codex?"

"Yes." Jacob pulled the covers across his body and slid out from underneath. His boxer shorts lay at the edge of the bed and he reached to grab them.

"But a codex is a tome. Or a book." Remy trailed off. At first blush, she thought, it wasn't apparent why a manuscript or document would be so important. So much so it warranted a string of high-profile murders. Remy considered the Codex's information would need to be of significant value for such a hefty price.

"What could possibly be worth the lives of your fellow clerics that would drive someone to such ends?" Remy mused to herself. In that moment, she cocked her head to the side and realized, "Wait. I've seen this before."

The reminiscence of the image began to form in her mind. Remy was struck by the memory of her and Jacob walking through the Grand Chapel after they'd first met, days prior. They'd passed through the entrance of the large room and headed down toward the base of its altar. There, embedded in the hefty, monolithic stone was a cube similar in shape and design to what Remy was looking at now.

"The Grand Chapel," Remy whispered.

"Indeed." Jacob rubbed his hands against his face, clearing his head. "The altar houses a depiction of the Codex. You are correct."

Remy turned, looking inquisitively at the man with whom she shared the room, "The members of your guild, do they know about this Codex, its importance?"

"No Remy, they are only aware of it insomuch as a religious symbol in our guild. The congregation, priests included, see it as a symbol of unity and faith – a stamp to embody the realm of heaven you might say. They do not realize its true importance. Any idea about its actual purpose has been quickly dispelled. The Elders do what they can to conceal the true nature of the Codex." Jacob looked away, ashamed.

Remy eyed Jacob suspiciously. "But wait. If you know this... thing... is so important, it means you're involved just as deeply as your Elders. You know far more than you're letting on. And you lied to me earlier when I asked about your involvement in this mess. What else don't I know?"

If there was anything Jacob had difficulty doing, it was concealing lies. He had struggled with omitting his connection to the case from the beginning. The guilt spread across his face like the dawning sun.

Jacob began, "Listen. What I'm about to tell you, I hope you understand, is in the strictest confidence." Jacob looked up from under a heavy brow. "You must promise me it does not leave the confines of these four walls."

Remy saw the gravity of his expression and the seriousness with which he comported himself. It was a stark contrast to the gentle man she had shared the throes of passion with last night. Remy wondered what kind of person Jacob might be, priest or not, if he ever exceeded his limits. She hoped she wouldn't need to find out. Remy nodded her head, accepting Jacob's offer.

Jacob continued, "Marcus tended contracts for the church. That much I've told you is true. What you do not know however is what his other, primary role in the Spirit Guild was."

Remy moved back to the bed and sat down beside Jacob.

Clearing his throat, Jacob went on, "The Codex is not a book Remy. It is a vast store of information. Tremendously large. And Marcus's charge was chief architect of its maintenance."

"What kind of information are we talking about exactly? A list of finances? A blacklist perhaps?" Remy stared at Jacob, wondering.

"No. It's more than that. The Codex is an ever-growing volume of activity. A recording of things happening around us, in our city."

"I don't understand. Do you mean like a census? We have guilds tracking those things already."

"Not quite. It's much more." Jacob turned to Remy and put his hands on her arms. "Do you remember what you were doing before I first arrived at your apartment?"

A dim melody of emotion played through Remy as she thought about the night before Jacob arrived, her time with Arthur, and breakfast the next morning. "Yeah, your point being?"

"The Codex provides access to that information, to seeing what happened during that time. Well, not seeing exactly..." Jacob trailed off.

"What?" Remy stared blankly at Jacob.

"And what happened to Pascal in the square." He continued holding Remy's gaze. "It has that information as well."

Remy took a moment, looking away. She couldn't comprehend what Jacob was telling her. Yes, she heard what he said, but it wasn't making sense. If Jacob were joking or worse yet, lying, Remy wasn't sure yet what she was going to do. Already what Jacob was saying belonged beyond her realm of reason.

Remy looked back at Jacob, "Okay. Let me get this straight. You're telling me your guild has a device that tracks things happening in Magna? Including you and me, right now, this conversation?"

Jacob understood Remy's incredulity, "Yes. And it was Marcus's job to maintain this object, to interact with it, to read it. He was there to ensure its continuity."

Remy shook her head, unable to believe Jacob's words. If what he was saying was true, how could such a device exist? And beyond that, to Remy's scientific mind, how might such a thing even function?

In a sweep of emotion, thoughts of Remy's exile returned to her mind. Jacob's words were tantalizing enough to fuel dreams of vindication, but they didn't make sense either. If anything, they served to hurt as much as help. Unsure why Jacob would resort to misleading her, Remy responded, "I'll believe it when I see it, but for now I think the events of recent are taking its effect on you."

"You may think so and, to be fair, you are not to blame. I was as doubtful as you when I first learned. But I promise, such an object is real."

Remy had so many questions it hurt to think. She shot up from her seat and blurted the next thought that came to mind, "But-. But- that means, if this thing is recording the city's activities, it's holding on to who has been behind these murders!"

"Conceivably, yes." Jacob reached to the floor and gathered his pants. "The Codex is perfect in many ways. But the information it collects cannot simply be retrieved. For those who have access, the contents held within the Codex are an interpretation. It speaks to each person individually. Marcus gave his life practicing this divination. And, subsequently, toward the end, trying to extract the identity of the killer from this relic."

Remy continued standing in the middle of Jacob's room, disbelieving. The thoughts kept rushing in and Remy found she was without a filter. "Okay. So, let's say for argument's sake this Codex does exist, as you say. Tell me, how the hell is something like that supposed to work?"

Jacob smiled. He could see Remy's mind trying to make sense of what he was telling her, unable to leave it alone. Jacob began, "Marcus spoke of an impressive feat of engineering, something irreproducible by even today's greatest alchemists. He believed this ancient object harnesses Aether and, in some way, connects to the energy around us."

"Aether?" Remy interrupted. "But Aether is just a notion, an alchemical grail which many of our best thinkers have only theorized about."

Jacob continued. "True Remy. Marcus believed, in some way, Aether sits at the very core of the Codex's operation, the way it collects its information. I guarantee this object is real, and it can be used for great evil."

Remy was as intrigued at Jacob's words as she was doubtful. Tapping her foot, she shot back, "Okay, I'll play along, but I'd like to know exactly how an Archbishop got an audience with a front row seat to this relic. You said Elders were the only ones with clearance to such a thing."

Jacob's shoulders bucked in a short laugh. "Remy. You don't know the type of guide Marcus was to me. Nor do you know the attendant I was to him. We were each other's champions, and good at it. He fostered me into the Spirit Guild when I was in need and broken. In return, I saw Marcus's special nature and his respect within the Citadel and supported him at every turn, to my great benefit. We were, in a sense, salvation to each other and for that, I admit, I was privy to information I otherwise might not have been."

Jacob continued, "And is it not enough that my confirmation as an Elder is fast approaching? I was in line to succeed Marcus and to helm the Codex. This guild needs help and Marcus instilled the idea that individuals like me, those who've endured challenge, would be its future."

Hanging his head, Jacob sighed. He could only do so much in explaining himself and the unbelievability of the situation. Whether Remy had the will or compassion to believe him was up to her. And he hoped she saw it the same way he did.

Remy listened to Jacob's words. For the few days she'd known him, she'd picked up on Jacob's constant sincerity. Even now, Remy didn't sense malicious intent in his voice. And, with exile as the harshest teacher, Remy understood the weight of false accusations on one's shoulders. Remy moved to clothe herself, searching the room for the rest of her garments.

"Okay," Remy began. "So, let's go back in time. Where is the Codex from? Did your guild make it?"

Jacob adjusted the pillows on the bed, smoothing them out and placing them neatly beside each other. "We didn't create it. It was a gift to the guild long before my time as a priest. I cannot say how long ago, but quite some time. The Spirit Guild was instructed to keep it safe and protected."

"By whom?" Any glimmer of information that might help find the missing necklaces was welcome. Remy hoped Jacob knew enough to be of assistance.

"Another guild perhaps? I don't know. The truth is the Codex's origins died with Marcus and Pascal. It hadn't yet been passed to me." Jacob said as he unfolded the comforter and spanned it out across the mattress. Remy bent over and helped tuck in the sides of the bedsheet and straightened the corners of the fabric.

"Yours?" Jacob smiled, holding up Remy's cotton bra.

"Yes, thank you." Remy said, taking the undergarment from him. Deftly grabbing the clasp, she secured it behind her back and snapped the thin elastic bands over her shoulders.

If what Jacob was telling her was indeed true, the gravity of an object such as the Codex was increasingly apparent. The implications of what this device meant for the people of Magna and those beyond as well were obvious and staggering. Remy imagined the chaos that might be wrought if the Codex was exercised in the wrong hands.

"Do you realize the storm you'd unleash if the public knew this object might be used against them?" Remy exaggerated her words as she spoke.

"Of course. I, as well as the Elders, we are well aware of the repercussions. Which is exactly why we have kept it safe for as long as we have. It is not our intent to incite panic. And I did not ask for this responsibility either. You understand my hand is forced here. Please, you must keep silent. For the good of the order."

Conflict raged inside Remy. On the one hand, an unprecedented development presented itself. The potential for positive change for Magna through an object like the Codex was palpable. And on the other hand, in the wrong possession, the Codex meant serious damage. Remy knew keeping it protected was essential, but did it have to be kept a secret? The question burned in her stomach. So many could be helped. And Remy was in exile. If anyone yearned for equality, it would be the downtrodden and the stricken like her. Realizing the potential liberation afforded by this revelation gnawed at Remy's moral being.

"I know what you're thinking Remy." Jacob could see the tempest in her eyes. "The people should know. And I must say, I agree. Perhaps that is why Marcus entrusted me so heavily in our work. I believe he knew a day would come when the Codex could no longer be concealed."

Jacob faced down Remy's fearsome gaze and continued, "But that day is not today. The people are not ready. Maybe you are, but they are not. I believe you know this as well as I. For as long as the Codex has remained here, secured in our archives, we have been safe. Until now."

Standing, Jacob walked to Remy and stood before her. "This lapse in security is why I believe you are here." Reaching up he brushed her hair aside.

Remy turned away from Jacob, still confused and fighting to make sense of what they were discussing. Maybe she was a savior in Jacob's eyes, but she didn't feel like it. She was just a woman in search of truth, trying to find a way back into society and a life without tempest.

"And the Codex? Does it have the truth of my exile in it as well?" Remy asked, certain she knew the answer already. She fought to ignore the pain. The pain that, buried somewhere within the confines here in the Citadel, her clemency sat idly by, languishing away as part of some occult church toy.

"Yes, perhaps. If it can be read." Jacob said solemnly.

Remy's tears came unexpectedly. Before she had a chance to catch herself, Remy was crying softly into her hands. "This whole time. You knew what happened. And you simply watched?" Remy was overwhelmed with the simplicity of the situation \- that the expunging evidence to her exile was no more than an arm's length away and no one had done a god-damned thing about it.

Jacob turned his hands up in appeasement. "We are neither judge nor jury. It is never our position to interfere with the machinations of the world around us. This you must know. Many have felt unfairness in life whether the Spirit Guild could intervene or not."

Jacob pleaded with Remy, shame and guilt flowing across his psyche like a river in flood. In the sincerest sense Jacob was sorry.

Remy went on, speaking through hushed sobs, "And how many other people could you have helped? Hundreds, thousands?" She shook her head. "Why the Spirit Guild of all places?"

Jacob made his way around the bed and put his arm across Remy's shoulder. In one motion, she shrugged him off and stepped away. The emotional welling was too much, too raw, and she didn't want to be touched. Walking to the other end of the room, she tried to catch her breath.

Here was a guild dedicated to relieving those who suffered. At the drop of a hat they could change the plight of so many and yet, with all the power and influence at their disposal, they chose to do nothing. It felt unfair, improper, and flawed.

But Jacob was right. Not just about being unable to help, but also that the public wasn't ready. The pursuit of the Codex had already claimed the lives of a handful of the Spirit Guild's upper elite. She shuddered imagining what chaos might ensue if the masses tried getting ahold of such an item.

Remy willed herself to be calm. It wasn't the time to lament. Not here and not while the threat of danger still loomed. As she heaved the last of her stilted breaths, Remy closed her eyes, blotting out the feelings of betrayal.

"I'm sorry." Jacob said. He was at Remy's side again, this time offering a tissue and keeping his space. "I truly am."

She looked at him through stinging eyes and nodded. Taking the tissue, she dried her cheeks and wiped her nose.

"It's-. It's not your fault." Remy quelled her anger and confusion, reducing it to a fading simmer. "It's unfortunate. You don't understand what it has been like, in my position."

"I would dare not try." Jacob meant well, trying hard to appreciate Remy's sensitivities. He was alarmed that he'd thrown her off balance and wanted desperately to right the situation.

Remy tilted her head up and sniffled, working hard to sound composed and continue the conversation. "So. Why was the Spirit Guild entrusted with the Codex?"

Jacob cleared his throat, "Again, I don't know, though we were expected to keep it safe."

"And what about getting information from the Codex? With Marcus and Pascal gone, who can do that now?" While the Elders appeared to have done little with the relic, Remy imagined the things she might be capable of if she was given access.

"I may be able to help though I have little teaching. But we need the keys. The keys are our gateway. Without them, we have no access to the Codex and there is little we can do."

"Those are, quite clearly, gone." Remy flicked her eyes back and forth, rubbing her hands together. Even if the Codex was a lie, she needed to treat the situation as though it were truth. Someone or something out there believed in the potential of the Codex as much as Jacob and the trail of dead bodies confirmed it.

"I'm afraid so," Jacob concurred.

The two of them moved around the room, collecting the rest of their clothes and readying themselves. There would be no time to lose in the pursuit of Augustus. And Remy wanted to gather any further information before it made its way through the cracks.

" _Ostex Xostm_ ," Remy said aloud as she snugged her jacket across her back and cinched her belt. "Are you familiar with those words?"

Jacob's eyes widened. "Where did you hear this?" he shot back, impressed as he tightened his sash against his waist.

"I found them in Marcus's chambers. They were scrawled on one of the documents I pulled from a drawer. I'm having trouble making out their meaning."

"The words are an archaic and ceremonial language from Marcus's sect. Just as Latin was once used by Catholic clerics, so too was this language used amongst Marcus's kin. It has been a long time since I've heard it however."

"Then you can tell me what it stands for?" Remy questioned. Looking at Jacob's reflection in the mirror, she braided her hair against her neck.

" _Ostex Xostm_. It means 'Our guest is enemy.'"

Jacob and Remy looked at each other. It was an uncertain and tentative stare. Remy believed the phrase only cemented Jacob's thoughts about Augustus. To her, though, 'guest' seemed like an odd word to implicate someone who had a significant presence in his guild.

Remy spoke ahead of Jacob, "So, the question becomes who is the Spirit Guild's guest?" She tried hard to break Jacob's stagnant thinking.

Shaking his head, Jacob seethed. The signs pointed all too well in a direction he was certain was correct. Maybe Remy couldn't see it, but he could.

A vicious knock on the door broke Jacob and Remy's concentration. Patting his hand in the air, the Archbishop indicated Remy's presence in his room was not an issue.

"Your grace!" a voice barked as Jacob opened the door. A Spirit Guild guard stood before the Archbishop, out of breath and in visible disarray. Concern and hurriedness overwhelmed the soldier's face and Jacob reached out putting an arm on the man's shoulder to calm him.

"What is it?" Jacob returned.

At the mirror, Remy looked at the reflection of the two men standing behind her. A pit of concern settled in her belly as they exchanged words.

"It's the vault," The guard spoke through spattered breaths. "There's been an unauthorized access."

"What! When?" Jacob fired back at the man.

"Not more than a few minutes ago."

"And who has broken in?" Jacob barked.

The guard shifted uncomfortably, "The vault appears to be tripped by Elder Pascal's key sir."

Jacob's mind raced. This wasn't supposed to happen, a breach of the vault and with a dead man's key no less. He'd asked for increased security after leaving Marcus's chambers days ago to protect against just such a thing. And yet, the sacred area had still been compromised. Was this Augustus returning to deal a final blow to the guild?

The unprecedented entry meant any number of things, but the thought of the Codex being removed from the Citadel scared Jacob now more than anything else. "And where is Augustus? Surely he has been seen of late considering this turn of events."

"I can't speak to that your grace. There were no signs of entry from outside, simply that Pascal's key was used."

Remy stepped between the two men and looked at Jacob. Enough was enough. Putting a finger square in the middle of Jacob's chest, she tapped him. "It's time to show me your little secret."

Jacob looked down at Remy, then at the guard. Pursing his lips, Jacob shook his head, exasperated, "Well, it seems this is your chance."

### Chapter 14

Remy, Jacob, and the guard ran through the halls, pounding at the marble flooring on their way to the elevators. Around them, in startled droves, fellow clerics jerked their heads to follow the trio's speedy course. Choruses of hushed voices rose from the priestly groups as the three hurriedly passed.

Arriving at the lifts, Jacob mashed the 'call' button and cursed under his breath.

Remy thought over the words exchanged between Jacob and the guard. An unauthorized access, likely through some key identification system, and with a dead Elder's credentials. But no one was seen entering. She looked at Jacob. "How many entrances are there to the vault?"

"Just one." Jacob looked up at the numbers above the elevator door. The car was almost at their floor.

One way in and one way out, Remy considered. In a sense, it made the problem less complex, but a solitary entry and exit point meant whoever used the key would have undoubtedly been seen. "Is it conceivable the door could have been tripped even if it wasn't opened?"

As the elevator arrived, the guard spoke up, "If our system were accessed in another way, I suppose it's possible."

The three walked into the elevator as the doors shut quietly behind them. Jacob jammed a key into the wall paneling and jerked it to the right, then the left. Without pressing a button, the elevator began a swift descent.

Remy turned to the guard. "What have you and your fellow men found?"

Jacob cut in, answering for the man. "Nothing. They are not permitted in the vaults. Few are."

The guard nodded.

Jacob continued, "Penalty of transgression is anywhere from dismissal of duty to guild banishment. You are an exception in this case Remy."

She watched as the guard stood silent, staring ahead at the brass doors. His poignant stoicism impressed her, and she raised an observing eyebrow.

"Well then," Remy said. "Looks like we'll be going it alone."

The expediency of their downward trip was punctuated as the elevator doors opened into a cool, singular hallway extending into the distance before them. The temperature in the corridor was far different than the warmer air they'd left behind high in the Citadel. Remy had observed the elevator's floor numbers fall away in their descent then simply stop as they continued well past the ground level. She had no idea how far underground they were, but the subterranean environment felt crisp, chilled, and buried.

Rubbing her arms, Remy stepped out onto the metallic floor. The sides of the long hall were bare and unfinished, solid stone twisting in craggy formations and giving the area a cave-like feel. Overhead, long brass piping was bracketed to the stony ceiling in parallel rows. Remy could hear the hiss of steam whooshing past as she, Jacob, and the guard walked beneath.

Ahead at the far end of the corridor by a solitary, iron door, a handful of guards spoke in muffled discussion. Seeing Remy, Jacob, and their companion approach, the group of men quieted and stood at attention, settling down.

From the rank and file, a guard raised his voice and spoke in the same frenetic tones as the one at Jacob's quarters. "We're sorry your Grace. We aren't certain how the vault's alarm was set off. There has been no sign of entry or exit. Word was sent as soon as we were alerted."

"Thank you." Jacob waved off the guard and gestured to Remy to follow him through the flanks of men. Pausing at the large door, Jacob turned, "You are to keep post here and await further orders. No one further is allowed on this floor."

Nodding, the guards fell back in line.

Remy sidled up to Jacob and watched as he flicked through his key ring. Of the many implements, Jacob chose one gold and ornate. The key's polished, angular surface looked more decorative than functional, but Jacob swiftly singled it out and threw it into the vault's single lock.

Above the lock, a mechanical keypad sat exposed. It's bank of buttons, where Remy imagined numbers should be, were instead covered by unrecognizable symbols. Jacob turned the key in its lock then reached to the pad. Each button made a firm 'click' as he punched in his code.

In a long, protracted gesture, the sound of exiting steam resonated deep within the monolithic door. The hissing went on while the system slowly depressurized. As the noise trailed off, it was replaced by a steady grinding sound of metal against metal, like some medieval drawbridge in acceptance of visitors.

With a final surety, the last metallic sound echoed across the small corridor and the door slowly swung itself outward. Remy stepped back as the finely machined monolith swept past her and came to rest against the rock wall.

Before them, a wooden staircase led down. Its tight, sloped ceiling obscured where the stairs ended, but Remy could see a faint light glowing from around the corner at the end of the hall extending below.

"Come," Jacob said in a lowered voice, removing his key from the lock. The two entered through the doorway and onto the small platform at the head of the stairs. Turning to a similar keypad on the interior of the vault, Jacob entered a code and the door behind them slowly swung shut, seating itself back into position. Remy and Jacob were now sealed off from the guards and the rest of the world. Remy couldn't help feeling entombed.

The brief stairwell took little time to descend. Reaching the bottom, Remy noticed, a large wooden slab came into view, obscuring what lay ahead. It jutted from the middle of their path like a giant obstacle, giving Remy and Jacob pause one last time before committing to the interior of the vault.

"Listen," Jacob said. "This sacred place is for our eyes only. Please keep what you see here in confidence, as with what I've said about the Codex. I trust you Remy, please."

Remy smiled and, in agreement, nodded her head. "I promise. I think it's in both our best interests to be observers right now. Let's see what all this is about."

Jacob and Remy circled each end of the wooden barrier and met once more on the opposite side where a great expansiveness greeted them. Remy moved to the edge of the railing overlook and stood, poised on a second story level. From her place she could see the endless troves of antiquities that played out before her.

In the suspended incandescent lighting, extending farther back into the distance than Remy could make out, an intricate maze of bookshelves, rooms, and walkways branched outward like an ancient, gnarled set of roots. Before her, stacks of boxes and papers undulated in a sea of catalogued knowledge. Remy wondered how far into history the items spanned.

"It's unprecedented," Remy said, drawing her breath.

"An accumulation and preservation of the world around us." Jacob looked over the multitudinous archive.

"A modern-day library of Alexandria," Remy muttered. The extent of the collected material stretched endlessly before them. If only she had enough room in her small apartment to house even a fraction of what greeted her here, Remy imagined. For a moment, she harked back to her upturned apartment and sighed.

"Alright Jacob, onward." Remy turned and started down the final set of stairs before them, eager to put her hands on the trove.

Jacob smiled, noting Remy's unabashed enthusiasm. Here was a woman unafraid of the darkness, bounding into the great unknown with abandon. Clipping his key ring securely to his belt, Jacob started after Remy.

Descending into the vaults felt like entering a body of water, Remy thought. Around them, the air was still and cool. On the bottom floor, she was submerged in the research around her. Remy imagined the high, dimly lit ceilings above to be the surface of a great ocean and below it she and Jacob were among the ruins of a past age.

Jacob motioned for Remy to follow and they veered from their corridor into a maze of artwork and display cases. Remy again noticed works by many of the city's great artists adorning the walls and cases of the labyrinth. Peppered among the paintings and sculptures were varieties of archaic mechanical devices on display as well. Remy smiled as she ran her hands across the glass window protecting a set of ancient astrolabes. For a moment she imagined the vault must go on forever.

"Granted your Codex is the heart of your guild, but there is so much more here than a magic box." Remy's voice trailed off as she continued peering at the curios contained in the windings of the passageways. Ahead, Jacob hastily ushered them along, doing as best he could to keep Remy's attention.

The further they wandered into the stacks the harder it was for Remy to remember the path they'd taken. Jacob hadn't broken pace as he deftly navigated the complex interior of the vault. The time he'd spent here in this intricate maze was apparent. Jacob was privileged to be in this space as an Archbishop, but he was being groomed to assume the role of an Elder soon just as well. His presence here was indeed punctuated by the loss of Marcus and Pascal.

Coming to a narrow corridor, Remy noticed how the bookshelves gave way to a slight clearing. At its center, a small, sunken room sat constructed in the floor. Where Remy stood, she could see intricate, flowing patterns running across the staircase leading down into the stone. Where the steps ended, two lit torches were affixed to the walls on either side of an ajar door.

Jacob gasped.

Rushing from his position at the edge of the clearing, Jacob sprinted to the stairs. Remy followed close behind, surprised by Jacob's sudden change in spirit.

"Where are we?" Remy asked over her breath, the two of them rushing down the tiny stairwell.

"As you said, the heart of our guild," Jacob responded, flinging the door wide.

Remy saw the full extent of the interior space. Wrapped around the perimeter of the space, the same carvings as those on the staircase arched across the walls. From the corners of the room, at the ceiling, four embossed wooden beams extended out toward a pedestal. On top of the pedestal, Remy saw a recess where an object might be placed. Beside it, a worn piece of paper sat folded.

Jacob took a stride into the center of the room and looked back.

"This is the Codex room and the Codex, is gone," he said sternly, shaking his head.

Remy walked up to Jacob and plucked the paper from its place. Unfolding it, she made out the design. The only markings, imprinted in a fine stamp, were the sweeping lines of the Spirit Guild's crest. Jacob leaned in to make out the delicate image. Realizing what was printed on the paper, Jacob looked at Remy.

"Is this enough evidence for you, Ms. Stone?" Jacob let out.

Remy paused to take in Jacob's comment. She reminded herself that he came from a place of different experience. He was a man of the cloth; she was a woman of investigation. This was Remy's area of expertise. The missing Codex and the document in her hand were linked, certainly. And Remy knew to treat each incident with its own set of circumstances. Yes, evidence may connect dots down the road, but to find those connections, one needed to turn on their investigative mind.

Remy traced the spiraling lines of the Spirit Guild crest on the paper with her eyes. The dark ink ran over the page in fine traces. Lifting her finger to the parchment she felt the roughness of its weathered surface. As she moved her touch across the stamp, she was surprised to find some of the printed lines were raised more than others.

"Look," Remy gestured to the crest.

Jacob furrowed his brow and tried to make sense of what Remy had noticed. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Some of these lines, they're heavier than the others." Remy closed her eyes, her brain whirling. Something about the twists and turns of the crest resonated with her and she pressed herself to make the leap between the patterns on the page and her foggy memory.

"A common occurrence in transcribing with ink." Jacob spoke, distraught.

Remy continued to keep her eyes closed. Without warning, her mind drifted to her time as a Watcher. She thought about the variety of cases she had supported and the many paths she had gone down to help those in need. Even in exile, with her side work, she wasn't afraid to commit herself completely to her passion.

Remy opened her eyes, knowingly, "They're not lines, they're a map."

"A map? Of what do you imagine?" Jacob asked.

"The steam tunnels," Remy recalled, having had cases lead her into the unquestionable bowels of Magna. Used as both service corridors and gateways to power the city, the steam tunnels were the arteries of the great metropolis. Without the network of interconnected pipes, Magna would cease to function.

With her memory clearing, Remy followed the winding pathways of the crest's ink to a corner of the image.

"We're here," she said, nodding and pointing to the paper.

Jacob turned his head to Remy, inquiring about her claim, "And where does this map lead exactly?"

Remy scanned the crest again, tracing its finely drawn lines, until her gaze stopped abruptly at the document's edge. "It looks, unfinished. My guess is it might put us out somewhere under the center square."

"Back at the scene of Pascal's death," Jacob continued.

Remy and Jacob shot each other a glance.

"This way Jacob," Remy said meeting his gaze. Pivoting on her feet, she turned to face the staircase out of the Codex room. Jogging up the entryway, she studied the subtlety of the crest's secret. If her interpretations were right, the map would lead them from their place at the Codex room to a point near the perimeter of the vault, then inexplicably beyond into the steam tunnels. It bothered Remy that Jacob affirmed only one way in and out of the subterranean archive. If Remy's calculations were correct, there had to be at least one other way to access the vault.

The two pushed deeper, running as they approached each indicated turn on the map. By now, Remy wasn't certain she could make her way back to the entrance without Jacob's help. He had been a solid companion, one that she could count on as things went from bad to worse over the course of the last few days. It felt good to have his reassuring presence by her side.

Remy slowed as she and Jacob rounded a final turn, approaching the far reaches of the vault. At the end of the thin passage, between towering dusty bookcases, a stack of old canvases and drop cloths piled up against a dead end.

"But-," Jacob shook his head in disbelief.

Remy dismissed Jacob's comment and approached the stack of materials. In the dim light, she inspected it's many, forgotten pieces, craning her neck as she moved in a semi-circle before the debris.

Jacob spoke up again, "Perhaps we were more ambitious than we thought. Augustus has done well to divert our attention. While we should be in the streets of Magna hunting a killer, instead we are in the bowels of my guild, stuck at an impasse. Now Augustus, the keys, and the Codex are missing. What do you make of this Ms. Stone?"

Remy let Jacob's words run past her as she continued her inspection of the art supplies. From somewhere far away, the sound of rushing air quietly cascaded out and Remy perked up. Furrowing her brow, Remy leaned in closer, trying to pinpoint what she was hearing. As she reached to pick up a drop cloth, she was surprised to feel air moving across the back of her hand. Whereas the air in the rest of vault was stiflingly still, here by the canvases Remy could feel movement.

In an instant Remy was grappling the fabric and pulling down stacks of artwork. Jacob straightened up as the materials tumbled to the ground, surprised by Remy's willingness to throw such ancient artifacts in disarray.

"Help me with these," Remy yelled over her shoulder. "There's something here."

Jacob shook off his surprise and rushed to Remy's side, helping to deconstruct the tall pile of supplies. With each additional piece removed, the whooshing of air became stronger. Remy could feel the warmth of it across her skin. She and Jacob worked in unison to move away a large, final piece of canvas.

Before them, a small door sat open in the wall. In the darkness beyond, Remy could make out the curvature of the interior space, illuminated by the low, yellow light coming in from the vault behind her. Fishing her flashlight from her satchel, Remy flicked the device on and leaned into the opening.

The warmth of the air caught Remy by surprise. As she looked both ways down the tight corridor, the beam of her flashlight bounced off the moisture-soaked walls. In front of her, a fine layer of water covered the floor. In the air a mist hung as far as she could see.

Remy leaned back out and wiped her brow, "The map was right. By my guess, this looks like it's tapped from a maintenance tunnel off one of the main lines. Whoever made it punched right through the wall too, expertly. And by my guess, it's been here for some time. Whoever made this map knew a thing or two."

Shocked, Jacob gestured his hand toward the opening and stammered, "I didn't know this existed."

"I'm not surprised. This part of the vault looks fairly forgotten," Remy ran a finger over a nearby bookcase to reveal a thick layer of dust. The haphazard array of materials around her reminded Remy of a temporary storage place. Someone had done well to take advantage of the abandoned nature of this corner of the vault.

Remy continued, "Jacob, I need you to contact the Police Guild. Notify them about this breach. It's time to give them some information they can use."

Jacob stood silent, contemplating.

"Well?" Remy leaned in, tapping her foot.

"I'm sorry Remy, I can't." Jacob's dark expression clouded his features. He leaned against a bookcase and braced himself as though he'd assumed a burdensome weight. Putting his palm on his forehead, Jacob looked down and began to sob. "I'm sworn to protect its secrecy."

Remy saw a hurt man. The immensity of the past twenty-four hours was written across Jacob's face. His logic seemed to be suffering, prodded on by the trauma of the continuing murders in his guild. If he had been in a healthier place, perhaps he would have seen what Remy saw and welcomed police reinforcements. In any case, she realized it would be up to her to press on.

Remy let out a deep breath, "Okay Jacob. Take a moment. I'm following the crest. If I'm not back in a few minutes, you must go to the police."

Jacob nodded and smiled, "Thank you Remy, I will be here."

Remy didn't have time to argue and Jacob was in no shape to accompany her in a brief search. Instead she flipped her flashlight in her hand and pointed it through the opening. With deft movement, Remy ducked out of sight from the coolness of the vault and into the dark warmth of the steam tunnels.

### Chapter 15

The interior of the corridor was small enough that Remy could touch either sides with her hands if she extended both arms. Its length was covered in a brushed stainless steel from wall to ceiling, diffusing the flashlight's beam in a soft, yellow light. At the ceiling, bolted in clusters to the steel, brass piping ran parallel with the corridor. Deep within the walls, the quiet, ever-present hum of steam resonated.

Below, where she had stepped, the thin layer of water made the surface slick and tenuous. Remy shone the flashlight at the ground. The stone flooring underfoot looked as though it had been cut fresh from the rock. The smooth surface reflected the brass fittings affixed overhead.

"I'm ready," Remy said bolstering herself. Cinching her satchel tight against her back she patted herself in one final check and proceeded to follow the hidden map in the crest.

This wasn't the first time Remy had ventured into the steam tunnels, the underpinnings of Magna. As she traversed her path, she was brought back to her time as a Watcher when the intrigues of her work brought her below the city. A whole world existed here, under the great metropolis, unbeknownst to most above ground. Granted, every citizen of Magna knew what the steam tunnels were, but only a few were brave, or foolish, enough to venture in. And even more so to those who called it home. And Remy knew all the characters.

Remy's Watcher work meant learning the city, every part of it. With her status in the Watcher Guild, Remy was afforded access to nearly every area of the city, if she so chose. Able to enter even the seediest places meant ultimately befriending the destitute, respecting the guild-less, and even falling into company with some of the most notorious in Magna.

Each of those relationships Remy forged in that capacity were gold. She imagined she learned more from the so-called questionable characters in her life than what she attributed to any schooling or bureaucracy. And nothing truly compared with the electric energy that came from a check-in with some local black-market denizen.

It occurred to Remy that although she was familiar with the steam tunnels, the area she was in now was a place she'd never been. For one, it was much deeper than she remembered the tunnels being. Riding the elevator down earlier into the vaults plummeted her far within the reaches of the earth. Any series of corridors this far down would need to be from a different set of tunnels altogether, Remy thought. She wondered what documentation about this area, if any, could be found high above in the city's Governance Guild.

Clearly enough, the sweeping curves of the tunnels aligned against the map Remy followed, accurate and well executed. Had these tunnels been built before the Citadel, Remy wondered, or after? If built before, the tunnels must be ancient, predating one of the oldest guilds in Magna. If built after, the Spirit Guild must have had a major impact on the tunnel's design, something that would take significant permitting and approval under traditional channels. Remy wasn't sure which was the case.

The clean nature of the corridors suggested at least some upkeep, but Remy didn't have time to consider the implications of such a strange discovery. Pausing, she looked again at the map, tracing the crest with her finger. So far, it hadn't led her astray. Each turn was predicted just as it should be. Memorizing the final lengths of the map, Remy folded it away back into her vest.

The sounds of a struggle echoing across the metallic hallway startled Remy from her thoughts. She wasn't alone! Remy's stomach twisted as she whipped her flashlight back and forth across her path searching for the source of the commotion. Finding nothing, Remy bolted forward and pushed through the mist toward the next corner.

As Remy approached the turn, the noises abruptly ceased. Remy stopped on her heels, unsure what to make of it. She clicked off her flashlight and stepped against the wall. Reaching across her waist, she fished a small kit from her beltline. Flipping it open, she held an exposed mirror at the corner and leaned her hand out.

In the faint light of the overhead bulbs Remy made out the shape of a figure hunched against the adjacent wall. The subtle movements of their shifting appeared as though they were crawling. Remy panned the mirror, but didn't see anyone else.

Determining the coast was clear, Remy stepped from behind the corner and came into view of the body slumped on the ground. Augustus lay there badly beaten. Remy rushed to his side. Augustus's ornamental robes were soaked in blood. He coughed as he made attempts to grasp at Remy's arms, confused and scared.

"Who did this to you!?" Remy gasped, trying to contain the adrenaline coursing through her body. She noticed the large gash in Augustus's side. The knife wound was deep, made in such a way as to mortally wound the defenseless Elder.

"I-. I- don't know," Augustus said, wincing in pain. The words were feeble, short breaths wheezing as they came. Grunting, he brought his hand to his side, reaching beneath his robes. Remy threw her satchel over her head and threw open the clasp. Digging into it, she fumbled for a set of eyedroppers contained in a small wooden box. Pulling the box from the bag, Remy freed the top of the case.

"Open your mouth, Augustus," Remy said looking at him.

The old Elder tilted his head back and parted his lips. Remy squeezed a few drops from an eyedropper onto Augustus's tongue then replaced the vial in her satchel.

The effects were immediate. Augustus relaxed as his pain ebbed away. The warm sensation that filled his body quelled the discomfort and he closed his eyes in relief.

"I don't know who did this to me," Augustus said, his words still coming labored and short. "But things are not as they seem."

Remy sat and took the old man against her side, attentive to his fading energy, "Go on."

"You have been misled Ms. Stone, deceived from the very start. We were only trying to protect ourselves," Augustus wheezed. "After the first of the murders, Marcus entrusted me his necklace for fear he might be next to pass. Indeed, it was so. The day you first came to visit us, after you left, Pascal too gave me his necklace."

Remy blinked. This new information was causing her mind to spin. She had believed the keys were stolen by the killer with each progressing murder. How could she have been so wrong?

"So, you have the keys?" Remy asked.

"Had them," Augustus coughed, blood rising to his lips.

Remy looked over his significant wounds. The medication she had given him was only enough to stop the pain. Augustus still appeared to be losing blood and the pallor on his skin told Remy he didn't have much time.

Augustus continued, "We tried to fool them. I was on my way to hide the keys, but they found me here. That's why I tripped the vault alarm. And you came Remy, you came."

Remy smiled to fight back tears and rested a hand on Augustus's shoulder, "I did. Where are the keys now?" Remy asked.

"They've been stolen. I was powerless to stop my attacker."

Remy wrinkled her nose. She had been so close to helping Augustus. It wasn't like her to be one step behind the guilty. And she hated losing the innocent in her cases. Remy was familiar with death, but it hurt all that much more when those she tried to protect became the target of malice.

Augustus continued, "We couldn't tell you we hid the keys. We were too scared. Granted you have found me like this as a result. It was old men's folly that kept you at arm's length during your investigation, but please understand we never meant ill will."

"And what about the Codex and this map?" Remy pulled the paper from where she'd tucked it away in her vest.

"I placed the map a day ago. The Codex is... safe," Augustus hunched over and winced, letting out a sharp breath. Remy was surprised the pain was continued to cut through the solution she had given him.

"Where is the Codex!" Remy burst.

Augustus slumped to the side, eyes closed.

"No! No!" Remy exclaimed, catching Augustus and pulling him back up to her. She placed a hand near his mouth. Still breathing, she thought. "Please Augustus, help us."

The tears came without warning, and Remy looked into the void around her. Here she was deep underground somewhere below the city, in a labyrinth in the dark, and with a dying man. She felt small and alone. The gravity of the situation struck her as she put a hand on Augustus's chest and whispered, "Please."

" _Fidemus Tenetia_ ," Augustus's words came out weak. "Hold the faith, Remy."

Through teary eyes, she looked down at Augustus's serene expression. He had parted his eyelids enough that Remy could see the gentle gaze he cast back. His lips were upturned in a tired smile.

In one, final breath, Augustus's chest fell and the last of the air left his lungs. Remy could feel the telltale sign of life passing from one realm to the next and Augustus fell back into her arms, his head slumping down against her chest.

Remy's tears continued to come. She didn't fight them. In the transient time between life and death, she had always considered the respect necessary in processing pain. Sometimes the situation to give pause to the dying didn't present itself, but in these dark tunnels Remy afforded Augustus as much time as she could allow.

Shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet, Remy gathered the cloth around Augustus's chest and pulled him up against the wall of the tunnel. Laying her hand against his brow, she closed his eyes in a final gesture of rest.

The last of the Elders Remy had met were now dead. Augustus, a man who had been a potential suspect moments before, instead gave his life to protect his guild. Remy had long taken issue with the zealous fervor of religion, but seeing the absolute commitment Augustus showed in protecting his guild touched Remy at her core.

' _ZING!_ ' The bullet ricocheted off the steel walls just above Remy's head like an overcharged pinball. Startled out of her thoughts, she whipped toward the direction of the gunshot and scrambled to her feet. Far off through the mist, an obscured figure moved quickly toward her. No time, Remy thought.

Spinning on her heels, Remy sprinted the few feet back to the corner she'd come from and dashed down the curved hall. It was that far to the Spirit Guild vault, Remy guessed. If she made it back to the tunnel entrance in time, she might be able to protect herself. Surely Jacob would come forward to the Police Guild about the Codex and keys after knowledge about Augustus's murder. If not, Remy would do so herself.

The halls of the steam tunnels clicked by as Remy ran at a break-neck speed. She could feel the rawness of her breath against her throat and beads of sweat trickling at her brow. Underfoot, her boots slipped and squeaked as she tried desperately to keep traction. Looking behind her, Remy couldn't see her pursuer. Beside Remy's frantic sprint, the hallway seemed empty and quiet.

Turning the final bend toward the makeshift door to the vaults, Remy stopped in her tracks. Before her, the shadowy figure stood cloaked in cape and hood. The rugged boots, close-cut leather pants, and utilitarian breastplate gave the oppressor an appearance of a purposed assassin. A series of weapons sat clasped to their belt. Amongst the lethal instruments, Remy's gun sat holstered in plain sight. What the hell was it doing in this person's possession? Remy wondered.

Even in this moment of fear, Remy was putting the pieces together. Whoever had overturned her apartment now held on to a fragile part of Remy's existence. Guns were illegal in Magna and Remy wasn't eligible for a license to carry one. It seemed whoever was responsible for the murders in the Spirit Guild could have taken Remy's life at any time. Instead, they appeared more content to torture her. Remy had to get her hands on the firearm.

"What do you want!" Remy shouted, hoping her words reached far enough down the tunnel to make its way into the vault.

Without hesitation, the figure reached to their side hunting for the firearm. Remy jumped behind the wall from where she'd come and out of harm's way. The sound of footsteps echoed through the chamber, approaching Remy. She reached to her belt and unclipped the tool by her side.

The polished metal rod glinted in the low light as Remy cradled it. At one end, the tool was wrapped in a worn leather grip. At the other, a series of adapters on an adjustable wheel rotated as Remy spun through them. Finding the adapter she was looking for, Remy jammed the tool against a large bolt embedded in the copper piping next to her on the wall.

With all her weight, Remy fell against the tool. A sharp, metallic ding sounded across the emptiness as a valve broke free from its seating. As the valve opened, it sent a giant plume of steam jetting into the corridor in a lethal veil between the two figures.

The heat was immediate as Remy jumped back from the dangerous cloud. Across the heavy white mist, she could see the outline of the ominous figure come into view. Go ahead, try to walk through that, Remy thought. Melt away for all I care. For a moment, Remy and her aggressor stood walled off from each other by the steam. Then, without warning, the mysterious figure turned away and disappeared down the hall toward the vault.

Damn, Remy thought. She needed to get back to Jacob. How long could she wait in the steam tunnels before it was too late? And there was no guarantee for her safety. Whoever had killed Augustus knew the corridors far better than Remy. Replacing the tool by her side, Remy closed her eyes and thought.

Jacob leaned against the bookshelf and tapped his fingers against his arms. He hadn't moved from his post at the small, uncovered door and it had been quiet since Remy left. Jacob was grateful for the few moments of rest. However, the sounds now of someone approaching just beyond the door alerted Jacob. Remy's company would be welcome, he thought, and he pushed off against the tall case where he stood to receive her.

"Hi Jacob," Tess said coolly as she emerged from the steam tunnels, unfurling her hood. Brandishing Remy's gun, Tess trained it on the Archbishop. Behind her, she sealed the door and spun the wheel lock closed.

Electricity ran up Jacob's spine as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. What was the lead for the Police Guild's investigation doing here!? And where was Remy? Jacob's heart sank, and he swallowed hard against the notion he may never see the Codex, or Remy, again.

"B-But?" Jacob stammered, the gravity of the situation setting in.

"Don't worry, all this fuss is almost over," Tess waved her open hand at the air in empty gesture. "What a shame though, I was just getting started."

Tess's glinting smile shone between her parted lips.

"Where's Remy?" Jacob asked.

"That bitch? Oh, we'll take care of her," Tess laughed. "She's been a nuisance from the very start."

"From the very start?" Jacob pried. He knew not to push the woman before him, someone he suspected to be a vicious killer, but he couldn't help it. If these were his last moments, he needed to stand up for himself and the Spirit Guild in search of answers.

Tess looked Jacob up and down, bothered. "Let's move." Tess motioned toward the interior of the vault with the gun.

"You'll never get away with this," Jacob sneered, starting back toward where he and Remy had entered the vaults. "We have guards at every post. You won't make it past the vault doors."

"That is, if the guards are there," Tess quipped.

Jacob shot a glance back over his shoulder.

Tess continued, "So much you don't know Jacob. So much you'll never know."

The two made their way through the far-reaching stacks and into the expansive center of the vault. Passing the empty Codex room, Jacob felt a longing well deep from within. Perhaps, he imagined, it was better to endure the physical pains of the world than sit idly by watching the dismantling of his guild. The emotional upheaval he'd sustained felt overwhelming.

Finally, the staircase leading up to the vault entrance came into view. Jacob could see the sloped entryway at the top leading toward the stone corridor where he and Remy had arrived not long ago. Perhaps if he took Tess by surprise, he could overthrow her. Jacob stood at least a foot taller. The successful scenario flashed across his mind.

Approaching the stairwell, Jacob wheeled around and threw himself against Tess. Instead of grappling her to the ground, as he'd imagined, Jacob found himself instead turned upside down and falling. Tess had deftly sidestepped out of reach while wrapping her arm around his neck. Cinching tight, Tess secured her grip and swung herself onto his back.

The impact with the ground was sudden and intense. Jacob could feel the weight of his and Tess's bodies come down square against his shoulder and he yelped in pain. Constricting, Tess locked Jacob in a choke hold and waited.

"I'll let go when you stop struggling," Tess said unfazed.

Jacob could feel the tightness of Tess's arm against his windpipe and the sharp pain now emanating from his arm. Jacob tried to breathe, but his air was cut off. Panic raced through his mind.

"I need you alive Jacob. At least for a now. Augustus didn't give me everything I needed. But I'll give the old man credit for holding out as long as he did."

Jacob squirmed at the statement. Tess's grip was a vice and she pulled against him tighter as he moved. Finally letting go of his struggle, Jacob relaxed.

"That's better," Tess giggled. She eased her hold and released Jacob.

The air rushed back into Jacob's lungs and he reached for his arm. Trying to move, he winced. Either his shoulder was dislocated or broken, Jacob thought. In either case the damage was done.

"The Codex. Where is it?" Jacob gasped through breaths.

"Let's find out," Tess replied as she drew both Codex keys from the chain around her neckline.

So, Tess wasn't in possession of the Codex after all? She may have the keys, but if she'd known where to find the Codex neither of them would be in this position. Tess would have certainly taken the relic given the chance. There was hope yet, Jacob imagined. He looked up at Tess and smiled, "So, you don't have it? Oh, how the mighty shall fall."

"That's enough out of you," Tess growled. She raised the butt of the gun in her hand and cracked it hard against Jacob's temple. "Take me to the Grand Chapel."

Jacob reeled, the blow sudden and sharp. There would be no mercy, he thought. Pushing off from his uninjured arm, he moved to his feet and stood. Staring at Tess in silence, he did his best to calm himself, taking slow, metered breaths. From here on out, he'd have to comply. At least the guards above would help. Turning, Jacob and Tess ascended the stairs.

At the vault entrance, as Jacob had done when he and Remy entered, Jacob punched his code into the door's keypad. The whoosh of steam in the walls gave way and the giant portal opened into the corridor before them once more.

Jacob stood in front of Tess in the empty stone hall. Where the guards had been at their posts earlier, now stood vacant space. Jacob felt the barrel of the gun against his back and he started forward into the empty hallway and the elevator at the far end.

"You see Jacob? We have our ways. A little Archbishop like yourself and that thorn, Remy. Just pawns. Now let's go find that Codex."

### Chapter 16

Only minutes had passed since Remy decided it was safe to close the gushing steam valve. In doing so, she dispersed the protective barrier that had separated her from the cloaked figure and made the path back to the vault accessible once more. Sensing calm, Remy moved the short distance to the hidden door she'd taken into the tunnels to find it locked. Her assailant was also nowhere to be found.

Remy took a moment to pull up her memory for the steam tunnels. Perhaps there was a relation between the tunnels she suspected far above and the ones she traveled through now. Surely if Remy was below the main tunnels as she believed, there might be a few places of overlap with where she now found herself. And at those intersections, there might be a way up, and out.

Jogging back again toward where Augustus lay, Remy inspected the route for hints of alcoves or hidden passages. As with the map, she ran her hands across the surfaces of the hallway corridors where she suspected there might be a concealed entrance.

Finding an imperfection in a patch of wall, Remy noted the accessways built to allow service people to pass back and forth through the tunnels. She hoped this was one of them. Remy fished under the exposed paneling and pulled it aside with an assured grip. As suspected, before her a service ladder stretched far up into the distance, each rung anchored to the rock slab behind it.

It's worth a shot, Remy mused. The sooner Remy could make her way to the surface, the better. She'd have to go up at some point anyway. There was no way she could bring Augustus's body with her and the best she could do now was find a way out. Taking a breath in, Remy put her hand over the first metal rung and began to climb.

The slick surfaces of the small service tunnel made Remy's ascent slower than she liked. Instead of racing toward the tiny pinpoint of light above, she ensured each grip was solid before progressing to the next. Falling from this height would be more than a bad thing. And it gave Remy time to think.

There was a sophistication in the killer's methodology. The elusive compound Remy had found in Marcus's blood was an interrogation drug, and a nuanced one. Remy hadn't been able to find a match in her records. But even then, no typical woman or man had access to that kind of resource. Only a few guilds would have the specialized ability to manufacture such a drug as well. Remy made note of the potential places she might visit after this case closed to find out more, given the chance. She would have to call on a few friends.

This was coupled with everything Remy had learned about the Spirit Guild from her observations and time with Jacob. The Elders played a critical role in how the guild was governed. They held executive level responsibilities, provided guidance, and stood as figureheads of their respective sects. In Marcus and Pascal's case, their special duties surrounding the Codex made them of even greater importance. It stood to reason that interrogating these senior clergy might produce the sensitive inner workings of the guild.

With Jacob being groomed to take Marcus's place, he too must now be in the crosshairs. Although still an Archbishop, Jacob had proven pivotal in his link to the Codex. Among other things he had granted Remy access to her requests.

And Remy didn't want to see Jacob turn up like the senior clergy around him. She appreciated Jacob's company and the stark differences between him and Arthur. Where Arthur was hot around the collar, Jacob had a much calmer, reflective demeanor. Arthur ravished, while Jacob confirmed. In either case Remy didn't judge. Both men had their places, she imagined, and both made her smile.

Remy carefully reached for the next rung in the polished ladder as she scaled the long vertical distance of the service tunnel. Above, now visible, light filtered in through the circular crack of the tunnel's hatch like a thin halo. Remy noted how it looked like a tiny ring aglow in the darkness, slowly growing as she made her way toward it.

Remy continued her thoughts. It wasn't right to think about Jacob becoming a statement piece like the Elders who'd fallen around him. Jacob had the air of a good leader. His care and compassion drew love from members of the Spirit Guild. Losing him would likely be a great blow to the guild, Remy mused. Objects were replaceable, people weren't.

Remy drove forward up the ladder. As she approached the hatch, she thought again over Augustus's final words, _Fidemus Tenetia_ , hold the faith. She'd seen them inscribed gloriously above the Grand Chapel's fresco. The text had been written out expertly as it bordered the top of the portrayal of good and evil towering over the altar and pews below.

Remy's mind wandered to Jacob's room and she remembered the abstract painting of the Codex hanging on his wall. The soft edges and blue glow of the artwork had caught her attention. In a burst of realization, she knew where to find the ancient relic.

Remy stopped climbing as she approached the hatch and placed a hand on its handle above. Forcing the handle aside, she unlocked the round portal. The door opened with a hiss, exposing the bright interior of a private Spirit Guild aviary. Looking around, Remy noticed she was situated between the high-rising walls of the Citadel. Among the trees and bushes in the small space, the hatch sat hidden away, camouflaged in its surroundings. The aviary itself was remote and inaccessible aside from a solitary service door set off to the side.

Remy pushed herself up onto the grass. Automatically, the hatch began to close. Remy reached to stop it, but the mechanism wouldn't budge in its trajectory and seated itself once again, locked securely into place. Running her hand atop the grass, Remy couldn't make out a seam. The construction was tight, and the door had all but disappeared into the landscape around it.

Checking her surroundings, Remy stood and made her way to the service door. Tapping her chin, she eyed the keyhole. Nothing a little brute force couldn't fix, Remy thought, and she raised her boot to the door.

Tess pushed Jacob down the empty aisles of the Grand Chapel. To their sides, the pew seating swept in great arcs, stretching to the far ends of the expansive hall. The massive interior stood quiet except for Tess and Jacob making their way toward the altar. The patrons that once sat praying among the sanctimonious space were gone.

"Let's go," Tess kept Jacob close in front of her. "Augustus muttered something about the chapel under his cries for mercy. I'd appreciate if you could shed some light."

"Augustus! You've seen him, but I don't know what is meant. The Codex is lost," Jacob labored. Even if he did know where the Codex was, Jacob wouldn't tell Tess. Giving this zealot any further piece of his guild would die with Jacob, if it came to that, he thought.

"Insubordination just won't do," Tess placed her heel against Jacob's back and kicked, sending him hurtling forward down the aisle. Catching himself, Jacob grunted at the pain shooting through his side. It was a difficult realization that he was helpless, unable to fend off his aggressor. He felt entirely at Tess's whim.

"Maybe we need to be taught a lesson?" Tess chided.

Jacob glanced over his shoulder to catch Tess's malevolent grin.

"I'm looking," Jacob said, continuing toward the interior of the gigantic space. Before him and Tess, the fresco loomed like a shadowy monolith, lit only by the soft midday sun cutting across stained-glass images high up in the windows.

The shared collective of the Spirit Guild agreed upon the fresco's depiction of opposing good and evil forces as an acknowledgement of dualities in life. While not all sects within the guild shared dualistic dogmas, each had determined that the images portrayed on the towering slab were appropriate enough to represent their creeds. If not duality, then the presence of light and dark were there, concepts transgressing the guild's many religious denominations. Within the details of the fresco, pain and joy were represented by the expressions of those captured in the abstract scene.

Jacob realized that without giving Tess some information, any information, his life was on the line. If his captor found no value in his presence, Jacob was sure he was as expendable as his Elder brethren. Moving to the fresco, Jacob began to make his way over its surface, scanning for clues. In desperation, he tried to appear as though he knew what he was doing.

The doors to the Grand Chapel burst open with a crack. Jacob and Tess whipped their heads toward the sound and stared. In the doorway Remy stood with her hands before her and a fiery expression in her eyes.

"I thought we cleared the area," Tess said under her breath.

Catching the words, Jacob shot her a quick glance. He had noticed the Spirit Guild eerily vacant as he and Tess had made their way from the vault to the Grand Chapel. Who was Tess working with that they had the capability to influence the flow of traffic through the guild?

Tess continued, "Well, well. Look what we have here." Waving the pistol, Tess motioned for Remy to join her and Jacob at the base of the chapel.

The hair on the back of Remy's neck stood. The telltale craftsmanship of the gun glinted in the light as Tess moved it back and forth, just as it had glinted in the steam tunnels. Remy knew now that Tess was the figure she'd encountered far down below.

"I see we've gone a little outside our jurisdiction, haven't we Tess?" Remy threw her hands up in submission and began making her way toward the fresco.

"You know why I'm here." Tess smirked and trained the gun again on Jacob. "Maybe I can get some leverage with this friend of yours."

Remy hastened her walk, keeping her eye on the pistol in Tess's hand, "It's not that I care about that man. I care about everyone." Remy hoped to buy a few moments with her words before arriving at the altar where Tess and Jacob stood.

"Is that so?" Tess cocked the hammer on the pistol.

"Wait!" Remy raised her voice. "I'll give you the Codex."

Tess lifted an eyebrow, "I'm listening."

Remy made her way before Tess and Jacob, "It's here."

Walking the few final steps to the front of the Grand Chapel and up to the altar, Remy reached a hand forward, touching the front of the cool stone slab. The etchings, like the ones on the fresco, created undulating surfaces that ran under Remy's fingers. Remy swept her touch across the altar's surface until coming to rest on the geometric figure at its center.

The soft depiction of a cube sat as a relief in the surface of the stone. Around the edges, where the shape was recessed into the altar, Remy could make out a fine gap. Reaching both hands on either side of the figure, Remy gave a firm pull. Like a perfectly fitted steam pipe, the cube slid against the polished stone. With a final whoosh of air, the box released from its seat and fell into Remy's hands.

"Here's your Codex," Remy growled. In one motion, she cradled the device and flung it high into the air toward Tess and Jacob. To Remy, the Codex didn't hold the weight it held for the two individuals before her. Death and darkness swirled around her association with the Codex. Yes, it had brought Remy and Jacob together. And perhaps it would bring answers to Remy's exile. But in this moment, Remy wasn't concerned if the Codex survived or not. Until recently she hadn't been aware of its presence altogether. If the Codex was destroyed, so be it, she thought. Certainly, it would help put an end to the murders, Remy imagined.

The Codex flew in its awkward trajectory across the space between Remy, Tess, and Jacob. Remy had hurled the device out of reach, but not by far.

"No!" Jacob and Tess yelled in unison as the gray cube began falling toward the ground. Throwing Remy's gun to the side, Tess lunged for the Codex. Similarly, Jacob hurled himself into the air, ignoring the pain in his arm as he reached out to grasp the object.

In attempt to save the Codex, Tess and Jacob collided, both stretching forward. Just before finding its finality against the floor, the Codex bounced out of Jacob's palm and clanged against the ground, coming to rest a few feet away. Tess sprung up and lunged for the metallic cube.

Remy saw her chance.

Leaping, Remy fast made up the empty space between her and Tess. Coming down on Tess with all her weight Remy could feel the blunt force of her blow. With a shoulder planted firmly against Tess's chest, Remy knocked the air out of Tess's lungs and the two rolled down the stairs to the base of the altar. Somewhere from within the folds of Tess's garments, Marcus and Pascal's necklaces worked themselves loose and clanged against the ground.

For a moment, Remy was stunned by the impact. The fall had disoriented her, and she shook her head. Looking up, Remy saw Tess crawling toward the Codex, gasping.

"You don't understand," Tess choked between breaths. "It's the order of things. It must be this way."

Remy reached her hand from where she lay sprawled and grabbed Tess's collar. "Why this carnage? Why not peacefully?"

Tess continued breathing laboriously, "The Spirit Guild shall pay!" Reaching to her boot, Tess drew a fine stiletto from its cuff. Its polished silver blade glinted as Tess raised the weapon above her head and thrust downward at Remy.

The blade skimmed past Remy's face as she dodged, nicking her on the cheek. Too close, she thought. Throwing her grasp over Tess's outstretched arm, Remy tightened it against her side. The force of the hold straightened Tess's arm, overextending it. Tess winced in pain, dropping the knife. Balling her other hand into a fist, Tess threw an uppercut hard into Remy's stomach.

Although Remy flexed, the punch landed without mercy. Tess's strength suggested someone with fervent training and expert strength. Her ability to respond to Remy's hold through pain and without panic showed the composure of a killer and skillfulness in hand-to-hand combat.

"Stop! I'll shoot!" Jacob's voice echoed throughout the Grand Chapel. Surprised, Tess and Remy stopped their struggling and looked at Jacob from their position on the floor. From nearby, Jacob stood holding the gun with two hands, training it as best he could on Tess. Letting go of Tess's arm, Remy lifted a boot and pushed herself out of harm's way.

"You don't have the guts," Tess snarked.

Remy rose to her feet and raised a hand, "Don't Jacob! She wants you to shoot."

Jacob's mind spun with uncertainty. Before him was a scourge upon his house and he had the chance to do something about it. Revenge, its sweet enticement, reached through Jacob's being. He blinked his eyes and brought his free hand to wipe his brow. Could he kill someone? Though his heart raced in his chest, Jacob's clerical training kept his temper at bay. He continued to hold the gun uneasily in his hands.

Remy noticed Jacob's hesitation and stepped in, "Think about it, Jacob. Tess is worth more to us alive than dead. She has information we need. You think your guild's problems will be solved by killing her? Tess is just the beginning."

Jacob shifted his gaze between the two women.

Tess broke the silence, "She's right. We are everywhere, and we are ready. Kill me and we'll still come for this house. And for you, Remy."

Remy looked at Jacob, pleading with her eyes. Jacob wanted the Codex and Remy wanted the gun. Reaching down, Remy picked up Tess's stiletto. Keeping the blade trained on Tess, Remy moved around to where the Codex still lay on the polished floor and picked it up.

Remy stared at Jacob, "Look, the police will be here soon. I sent a wire out on my way to the chapel from the tunnels. I'll trade you. Please." Remy lifted the Codex to eye level between her and the Archbishop.

Jacob took a deep breath, going over the scenario in his mind. As much as he wanted to put an end to the tyranny before him, Jacob understood there were better ways to solve the problem than fight fire with fire. An eye for an eye made the whole world blind, Jacob mused to himself. There was no need for more violence.

Both he and Remy kept their weapons trained on Tess as they circled her and met. In exchange, Jacob handed Remy the gun while they exchanged the Codex. Relief flowed through Jacob and he was thankful to be relieved of the firearm.

"It doesn't have to be this way Tess," Remy said as she reached down to pick up the loose necklaces off the ground. Reaching into her satchel, she fished out a pair of handcuffs and handed them to Jacob. "Lock her up."

### Chapter 17

Lee, Arthur, and a waterfall of the Police Guild special forces team poured in through the opening to the Grand Chapel. It had taken a matter of moments after they arrived to secure the area, searching the interior of the chapel itself while cordoning off a perimeter outside and working through the rest of the Citadel. Remy could hear the shouts of the policemen and women as they cleared each nearby section, poking behind the various nooks, crannies, and estuaries running against the interior of the Grand Chapel.

In his usual broad swagger, Lee's compact frame strode down the center aisle toward Remy, Jacob, and Tess. Behind Lee, Arthur followed in step. Approaching the altar, the two police officers glimpsed Tess sitting cuffed to a nearby pew.

Arthur stopped in his tracks. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. His lead officer, an envoy from Central who he'd grown to appreciate and trust, sat before him bound and under surveillance. Lee didn't break stride as he continued past Tess and stopped in front of Remy.

"I got the wire," Lee's gruff voice echoed throughout the chamber.

"I see that. Good timing." Remy smiled at the authoritative figure before her.

Arthur approached Remy and Lee, frustrated, "Tess isn't talking."

Remy interjected, "She hasn't said anything since Jacob cuffed her." Remy turned to the man in robes who stood surveying the Grand Chapel and all its movement. Noticing her gesture, Jacob moved toward the small circle and introduced himself.

Remy continued, "Jacob was critical in helping break this case."

"That so?" Lee scratched his chin.

Jacob shook his head, "Thank you, but I believe I could have done more. There are dead men on my conscience. Perhaps my actions were not as they needed to be. I only did what I believed was right."

Remy bowed her head, unhappy at the news she was about to bear. Lifting an arm to Jacob's shoulder, she addressed the small group, "There's something else. Augustus, one of the guild Elders..." Remy paused. "He didn't make it."

Jacob looked up into the chapel before him. The weight of the news was crushing, but there were no tears left to shed. Remy's words fell over him like rain on Magna's streets, awash in heaviness. Jacob had no more to give, his demeanor flooded by the full reality of the situation. It was difficult to acknowledge he would be, in part, one of the many responsible for reassembling the wide fracture in the Spirit Guild. There were other Elders who would help, but with the loss of Marcus, Pascal, and Augustus, so too did Jacob lose his friends. He imagined he would need to look inward to the guild for support in this time of need.

Remy continued, "I found Augustus in the steam tunnels. He's in a location I wasn't aware existed. I believe it was Tess who chased me off," Remy gestured to the woman at the pews. "But I can get us back."

Lee and Arthur were alerted at the news. Arthur began, "Another body?" He shot his gaze at Tess who sat in focused repose. In her stoicism, she appeared to be at ease with the mayhem.

Lee chimed in, "You said a part of the steam tunnels you aren't familiar with?"

"Yes. I thought I had a thorough pulse on the city, but I've never seen the tunnel system like the one underneath us. They appear to be well maintained and I'd like to see if any record of its permitting or construction exist at the Governance Guild," Remy offered. "I have my doubts."

"We'll look into it, Remy. Stay out of trouble." Lee grumbled.

Remy looked Lee over, "You know the records are public domain."

Lee scrunched his nose and shifted his attention away from the group. He hadn't seen Remy for quite some time, and he didn't need to be scolding her.

Remy glanced at Jacob. She could feel him trying to keep pace with the vastness of all that was happening. Here was a man who'd been stripped of the things he loved. And now his life was on display as the Police Guild was beginning to tie up the investigation. Remy imagined Jacob might have an understanding about how exile felt. Remy had been paraded about like a circus act in her own right, powerless to stop the bureaucracy around her from collapsing inward. She felt compassion for Jacob.

"There have been a few other revelations," Remy directed toward Lee. "Tess spoke of being part of a group, a larger entity."

Lee turned his attention back to Remy.

"The Conclave," Tess broke her silence.

The group turned and faced Tess. Before anyone could cut in, she continued, "I am just a messenger, but we keep balance. I may be a pawn, but do you see how one person can cause such chaos?"

The group stood silent, taking in Tess's words. Turning to Remy, Tess continued, "And don't be fooled my friends. We can exile anyone, just as we exiled her."

Remy's heart skipped a beat. The unchecked part inside of her wanted to lash out and attack, but Remy knew better. She'd learned over the years to stay impulsive, but with control over how she carried it. Instead of letting her emotions overwhelm her, Remy took a deep breath. There would be time to ask the questions that needed to be asked. For now, the violence had quieted itself and Remy appreciated that terror was being brought to justice.

"Alright," Lee raised his voice to Tess. "Let's save it for the station."

The warm interior of Lee's office was a welcome respite from the cool remoteness of the Citadel. Tess had been booked as soon as the police convoy made its way back to the station. Heavily armed special forces then escorted her from processing directly into maximum security holding. Lee wasn't taking any chances. Twenty-four-hour surveillance doubled up, he'd yelled.

Remy felt the stares as she walked between Lee and Arthur through the precinct. Many of the officers she knew sat at their desks or moved about in their fervent work. Conspicuously, they craned their necks as Remy strode confidently past on the way to Lee's office. Remy knew her acquaintances wondered what she was doing here. Since her exile, Remy's presence had been minimized throughout the city. She had lost access to many of her legal constituents. Most had been instructed to avoid contact. Remy was in exile, she thought, but she wasn't contagious for goodness sake.

Remy imagined the liability she created kept her at an arm's length from even those she considered close. Those like Arthur and Lee. They were good people. Jacob too for that matter. All these men had helped Remy in their own way. In Arthur and Lee's case, they had continued to provide a sounding board, even if it was more clandestine than before Remy's exile. Jacob had been a nice change of pace for her in a time when she needed comfort more than excitement. And Jacob's intimate knowledge of his own guild had served Remy well.

Now in the confines of Lee's office, with the blinds drawn, Remy, Arthur, and Lee gathered away from the prying eyes of the station.

"This hasn't been easy," Lee spoke, his voice filling the oaky interior of the small space. He turned to Remy, "Pardon the expression, but we hit a dead end without you."

Remy smiled and bowed her head.

Lee went on, "I understand it now. I have to believe Tess did everything she could to suppress this investigation. It's a matter of time before she talks. We'll get answers, however I'm afraid these walls have ears. It's hard to know who's listening." Lee gestured into the air.

Arthur and Remy nodded. Their concern came out in a shared sigh. Remy broke the pause, "Speaking of talking, I found an interrogation drug in Marcus's blood. It's the first time I've come across the compound, but it looks familiar. I know Central uses similar drugs. It didn't match with anything I have in my records though."

Arthur responded, "Well we don't use interrogation drugs here in the Police Guild. If it's not something that belongs to Central, then I don't know where it's from."

"I'm thinking something designer," Remy continued. "Which supports the existence of the Conclave Tess talked about. If they can place people like Tess in Central, they can certainly take things out too. It's plausible the Conclave got their hands on some of Central's resources. But I'm not clear why they would alter an interrogation drug other than to disguise its use."

Lee cut in, worried, "I'll reach out to my contacts at Central. I've already wired over word about the outcome of this afternoon. If a full inquiry is initiated, you'll be sure I follow it closely. We already know Central is compromised. If what Tess is saying is true, we're looking at a deep problem. This isn't just about the Spirit Guild."

The three looked at each other for a beat, then broke their gaze. Remy knew Lee was right. The revelations about the Conclave put the institutions in Magna on shaky ground. Tess had been adamant about how pervasive her secretive group was entrenched in the city. Going forward, Remy knew she would be relying less on the guilds and more on the individuals in her life that stuck around. Individuals like Arthur and Lee.

Lee continued, "And Remy, if what Tess has said about the Conclave's participation in your exile is true, we have a brand-new world ahead of us."

Arthur looked at Remy and smiled. Even if he hadn't been the most eloquent with Remy over the last week, Arthur knew the prospect of absolution made Remy's heart sing. The command for her exile had reached the upper echelons of both the Central and Government Guilds. Knowing that her situation was not only rectifiable, but an illegal act in the first place was a welcome revelation.

Remy nodded. She was happy to see Tess in custody. The validation of the belief that her exile was done under false pretenses made Remy eager to know more. A familiar, curious warmth that had long since gone quiet began to burn, once again, in Remy's core.

### Chapter 18

The air streaming in through the Citadel's foyer felt crisp and clean as Remy took a deep breath and checked her surroundings. Being back in the Spirit Guild brought with it mixed emotions. On one hand Remy was happy to be in a familiar place, waiting for a familiar person, and with a familiar purpose. On the other, Remy was hard pressed to think over the Spirit Guild investigation. Its pain and loss still stung. Though, with the guild on the mend, Remy was excited to connect with Jacob again, especially today.

Over the quiet crowd gathered in clusters among the foyer, Remy could make out Jacob's telltale mortarboard hat. As the groups parted, he came into view. Jacob looked good. The regal quality of his step had returned, and he seemed taller than she remembered. Certainly, the smile on his face gave away his returned charm. Remy folded her arms and threw a hip to the side as he approached.

"You've gotten your color back," Remy smiled.

Jacob extended his arms and brought Remy in for a hug. The embrace was welcome and warm.

"And your shoulder, it's better?" Remy continued.

Jacob rotated his arm in its place, showing the range of motion, "Like new." Smiling, he brought his arms out to his sides, "Just as our home is becoming too."

It was good to hear the surety in Jacob's voice. On her way to the Citadel, Remy wondered what to expect. She hadn't been in contact with Jacob since the day of Tess's arrest. It wasn't that Remy was avoiding him. Instead, she was busy in her own right, addressing her needs and loose ends and waiting until the timing was right to reach out.

Jacob went on, "There have been new Elder assignments. You may have already guessed, but I've been appointed as such. There are others that will take Marcus, Pascal, and Augustus's place, but I am tasked with leading this reinvigoration. Much attention has been paid to solidify our house once more."

Remy smiled back at the newly minted Elder.

"Shall we?" Jacob gestured with his hand toward one of the many side halls splitting from the foyer.

"Yes," Remy smiled back. She was ready to make good on Jacob and the Spirit Guild's promise to give her access to the Codex. The two turned from their position and headed toward the elevators.

Remy went on, "And how has your work with the Police Guild gone?"

"Well. We've been cooperative in all their inquiries moving forward. A different approach than how my forefathers handled their affairs. Seeing the police so involved again is a great departure from the toothless guild they seemed to be not long ago."

Jacob's look turned stormy, "But there's something I have to tell you."

Remy noted the serious tone of Jacob's expression.

The newly appointed Elder lowered his voice, "We have been forced to give the police access to the vault as a consequence of Tess's work. The same may be true for the Codex I fear."

Remy stopped and turned to Jacob. She had thought over the inescapability of the Codex's presence. Remy couldn't see how Jacob might keep such a desirable object away from the outside world. The Codex was a flashpoint and introducing it to the Police Guild as evidence only made its existence that much more potent.

Judging by the look on Remy's face, Jacob thought, it would be best to continue. Jacob turned and motioned for Remy to walk with her as they continued toward the vault.

"Instead of turning the Codex over to the police however, I made a deal. The Spirit Guild will allow the Codex to be studied instead of it being locked away in an evidence room. I've already been in contact with the Science Guild and we're coordinating our efforts. The alternative to my not providing the Codex was incarceration, I'm afraid. I owe it to my guild to be here, to help rebuild. And I realized that if someone is willing to kill in the name of this object, it should be made less dangerous, more known. The world deserves to know."

Remy blinked, "That's a far departure from your last point of view."

"Facing death has made me reevaluate my life's position. We are given full appreciation for what it means to be alive when we face the option of non-existence. I have always chosen to live my life in a noble manner. What is more noble than sharing the bounty of our riches with the rest of the world?"

Remy laughed, "Amen."

Jacob continued his far-off stare, lost somewhere in the visions he was describing.

"Let's go," Remy continued. "I want to see what all the fuss is about."

The coolness of the Codex room played against Remy's skin, giving her goosebumps as she and Jacob stood in front of the center pedestal. The only light present was cast from the outside torches and Remy noticed how the entire space took on a hushed tone. Above, the four wooden beams hung at the ceiling. Wall etchings cast eerie shadows and subtly flickered about. Remy felt the awe of the sanctimonious space.

"Here," Jacob said. Reaching a hand from underneath his robes, he exposed the metallic, cube-shaped Codex in the palm of his hand. It's matte finish and swirling patterns looked like the painting that adorned Jacob's wall.

"Place it in the pedestal," Jacob continued.

Remy reached out a hand and delicately grasped the metal object. Like the room, it too was cool to the touch. On its surfaces, Remy could make out the finely crafted etchings. She rubbed her fingers across its ridges and felt a longing for something nostalgic deep within. Turning to the receptacle at the center of the room, Remy extended her hand and seated the Codex into the recess.

"It's time," Jacob's voice came from somewhere outside of Remy's vision. She felt him grasp her wrist and bring it above to where the Codex lay. With his other hand, Jacob revealed a small blade. "Breathe."

Remy took in a sharp breath as Jacob brought the tip of the knife to her palm and made a small cut. The pain was quick and biting, and Remy watched the few drops of blood fall across the Codex and absorb into its peaks and valleys.

Jacob stepped back and left Remy at the pedestal alone.

The pain subsided and Remy's concern turned to intrigue as she watched the Codex begin to glow. Moving her hand away, the growing blue light bathed the room, shining over the beams above and illuminating the walls in bold patterns.

Slowly, Remy's surroundings dissolved around her. Where she was once in tight confines with Jacob, now Remy floated on an iridescent turquoise dreamscape. From somewhere far away, Remy heard Jacob's voice.

"What is it that you'd like to know?" his words sounded miles away. "Hold that question close to you. The Codex will show you what you need to see."

Remy thought over her exile once again as visions began playing across her mind.

###

About Ashlee Hart

As a writer, my philosophy revolves around love and how it plays part in our relationships. From family and friends to lovers and the like, somewhere buried deep beneath these complex and often inextricable connections, love has its place. Sometimes it stares us in the face while other times we truly have to dig. But in every case, when we form bonds that matter, love finds its way inside.

When I tell stories, I try to reflect this idea of love intertwined. It might play out as a flirty intent, a candid whisper, or a full-on love scene. It drives action and gains weight with each characters' gesture, pushing them into ever complicated relationships. Granted, the players don't always act with good intentions, but it's usually love driving them to such heights or valleys in the first place.

Thank you for taking the time to read. If you enjoyed my work, please leave a review or comment. I'm ever grateful.

Love,

Ashlee Hart

Discover other titles by Ashlee Hart at Smashwords.com

In The Rain (short story)

A Clandestine Affair (short story)

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