Chapter 42

Gate Crackers are a tightly regulated, disposable pocket device. These one-time-use devices are designed to break locks. Laser Gate Crackers sever the latch of any physical key locks. Pulse Gate Crackers emit a close-range burst of tailored Distortion Myst to fry all internal circuitry of a lock and force it open. Gate Crackers of any kind are strictly granted to special divisions of law enforcement, military, and specialized Adventurers.

With a fist full of teleportation tags in a pouch on my belt, I was blinked back to the elevator. I rode that car up to the hospital, shifting my appearance as the box ascended. Just before the doors opened, I checked my appearance in their reflection. Sure enough, I appeared as a brown-haired and brown-eyed Human man in mint-colored nurse scrubs. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do anything with the heavy pack I was carrying.

The car gave a chime, signaling my arrival on the eighth floor, and the doors slid open. Beyond those doors was a smaller lobby, occupied by a nurse’s station just across the way from the wall of elevators. Two nurses were chatting at the desk; one was a female Ceangar, and the other was a male Human. They both looked at me as I entered the space, but instantly went back to their conversation without comment.

With a barely contained urge for haste, I stepped out of the elevator and looked around before pushing through a door labeled Laundry & Housekeeping. The room was immensely long and rather narrow, lined with washers and driers along one wall, some in mid-cycle. Large hovering laundry carts littered the space in varying states of mostly empty, mostly full, or overflowing. I grabbed the nearest laundry cart and jammed my pack beneath the mounds of fabric and rags.

I was about to turn and make my way out with the cart when I stopped and inspected a small nook beside the door that was full of cleaning chemicals of a wide range of sorts. From that quick skimming, I saw a few things that could cause trouble. I decided to cause some small degree of mischief before the show got started, by throwing twenty-some-odd open bottles of laundry soap into just as many vacant machines and setting each to ‘Long Cycle’ and ‘Heavy Load’.

The prank wouldn’t cause much damage or any real threat to life. What it would do was raise a bit of Armageddon with the staff on this floor, which would add another ingredient of mayhem in this chaos compound cocktail we were brewing with sinister intents. Anarchy was the word of the day, and the more confusion, the better.

I left the laundry room, pushing the cart with one hand and a tired gait. As I passed the nurses again, I let out a false yawn, half-covering my mouth absently with my free hand. They didn’t look at me twice as I made my way toward the freight elevators.

The crossing from one elevator lobby to another, larger lobby was made without incident. I stepped into the larger car, closed the doors, and dropped my guise. With deft hands, I loaded up my person with gear. Two utility belts full of all manner of small tools, a bandolier slotted with one-use elemental throwing knives, and two thigh satchels loaded with both kinetic and elemental munitions were only the start. Feeling through my hip pack where I kept my Lok-Links, I pulled and equipped several pieces. The Extractor Pauldron, Collapsable Shield, Wrist Launcher System, and Shock Byte Box all seamlessly merged with my artificial arm. These were all in addition to the Squid Hook, Mental Command Module, and Mimic Facade System, which were already installed, making my arm more than a bit heavy.

With my person armed for Armageddon, I popped the emergency hatch in the freight car’s roof and stowed the gear bag just on the other side. Once the evidence of my meddling was hidden well enough for a cursory inspection, I thumbed the elevator to take me to the party. As the car climbed the hundred-and-forty-plus floors, I started a group call on my therra with Kharmor and Ferris while equipping a new Mimic Facade. “Kharmor, Ferris, I need both of you to make your way to the manufacturing floors near the top of this rats’ nest.” I looked around the car for an identifier as the box picked up speed, pressing me harder against the floor. “Be sure to use freight car number 035-81. I left you a bag of party favors on the roof of the box.”

“This is the starting fires bit?” Ferris asked.

“In part. Ask Khar what you should put where for the biggest trouble. Once you both are done, get to the roof.”

“And what exactly will you be doing, pray tell?” Kharmor asked while I inspected my disguise in the reflection of the metal doors. “You did say that the plan was changing.”

“I’m going to help Oz and Nel with the party and info collection. If I get the opportunity, I’ll start a few more fires. I’ll set Nennel or Ozwald to prep an exit route for us. If one or both of you could prep a route to the hidden subfloors, it’ll make things go much smoother.”

“How exactly do you expect-” Ferris started to ask, only to be cut off when my transport box gave a chime of arrival, and I had to interject a hurried, “Gotta go.” before hanging up.

I stepped from the elevator straight into a chilled storage room for food. My skin tightened into goose flesh, and my breath rolled from my mouth in a vague cloud. I’d need to hold my breath if anyone caught me in the space. The fog would be a dead giveaway that I was wearing an illusion.

The clock was ticking, so I moved into the next room, holding my breath as I passed through a pair of swinging doors into a kitchen. The large space had white walls and sterile white light from one end to another. Every visible surface was clean and polished to a shine. I’d seen fresh-out-of-the-box cooking utensils look more shabby than anything in that room. The meticulous, immaculate state of the kitchen was a preternatural feat, given the bustling and shouting chaos of the space. Just from a brief visual scan, I counted nine cooks, thirty assistants, and one very intimidating chef.

With a quick glance at a wall rack of hanging pans, I double-checked my disguise. Dressed in an illusory copy of the same uniform of Platinum Platter Catering as Nennel and Ozwald, I appeared as a Coyote Primal, a head taller than I actually stood, placing my face at the image’s neck and jaw. I would’ve used a Rat Primal or Squirrel Primal, which were closer to my height at the time, but Rodent Primals had a reputation for sticky fingers and illicitly filled pockets. I didn’t need that kind of scrutiny on me. Canine Primals had a reputation for adhering to codes of honor and loyalty. Coyote Primals had a stereotype of breaking with honor when the need arose, but that mentality was expected of everyone attending the party. I’d more easily blend in among the partygoers if they thought I had a similar mentality. Additionally, if I vanished for a while, Nel or Ozwald could just claim I was sneaking a smoke break, which would fit the stereotype of my guise.

My double-check was interrupted when the large chef approached me with an authoritarian stride. The gray-skinned Orc was dressed in a dirty chef uniform, hat cocked at an angle, and buttons straining to hold in a bolder of a belly. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow to show hairy arms covered in a patchwork of scars. “You with the other two?” he groused, folding his thick arms over his thicker belly.

I grunted in the affirmative, injecting a note of embarrassment. One of my primary goals at the time was to speak as little as possible, to minimize the chance of someone noticing the discrepancy in the source of my voice.

“Well, you’re late,” the chef accused before unfolding his arms to point to a table across the room covered in serving trays. “Grab one and get on the floor,” he half-turned to walk away, when he paused to give one last instruction. “And don’t come back until the tray is empty. If there’s even a crumb left when you get back, I’ll crack your brain bowl and send you down the tower. That hospital bill will be all on you, Fuz Face.”

I gave a vigorous nod and grunt of understanding before hurrying to collect a tray at random before moving through another pair of doors leading to the party floor. I passed through the gates, and it was like an entirely different world.

The single massive space reached five floors up before being capped with a hologram mural-covered ceiling. I had no idea how large the footprint of the tower was beyond numbers on a page. 2,500ft long, 1,800ft wide, 3,200ft tall. On the page, those numbers were big, but seeing the visual values of those measurements was an entirely different monster altogether.

The space was expansive. An open floor of glass, spanning farther than several houses lined up, set atop an aquarium tank large enough to hold more than one massive sea monster. The tank was, in actuality, populated with rare and dangerous sea life ranging from sharks, a sea serpent, and even a giant squid. The perimeter of the space was wall-to-wall executive corporate offices, each with smart glass walls, like their own big fish tanks. Those offices were presently providing a stunning view of the setting sun and illuminating stars and moons over a carpet of smog that reflected the dying light with a purple-gray shimmer. The ceiling several stories up displayed a moving hologram image of rolling constellations framed within churning storm clouds. Every few seconds, a bolt of illusory lightning snatched out from the clouds to stop just above the crowd below. Occasionally, a comet shower painted the hologram to come swooping down and rain over the crowd like a shower of cold lights.

The room was jaw-droppingly stunning, but the awe was short-lived when I looked at the partygoers. I then knew what savanna-gala dress code meant. I also saw why Nel said I’d need to tailor the plan. Every single partygoer I could see was dressed in combat gear. Armors ranged from classic plate and mail to advanced power suits and PSGs. Weapons spanned the variety from razor blade daggers to at least one personal mortar cannon. The only thing in common was the colored armbands. One-third of the party wore red armbands, while the other two-thirds wore blue. It must’ve been an easy indicator of which corp a rat belonged to.

I walked through the crowd with a professional and dignified gait, offering what appeared to be some kind of quiche from my tray to random people I passed. The mingling was reserved and set to a social simmer. Of the eighty people I estimated in the room, only a few were doing anything more than discussing general news, the weather, or the political developments of other companies.

The last finger quiche was plucked from my tray just before I spotted Ozwald and Nennel. They were playing the same role as I. They both offered food to individuals with some stick up their ass and tried not to break cover every time someone made a snide remark.

I folded the tray under one arm and approached both Oz and Nel. While neither of them had entered with an illusion to prevent any alarms, they had put illusion covers on after they passed the checkpoint. Nennel looked like a normal Human girl with brown hair and blue eyes. Ozwald was looking like a young, pale-skinned man with black hair and brown eyes. I had specially tailored Oz’s disguise pin to minimize the chance of his mother identifying him.

Nennel caught sight of me first and let slip a visible moment of relief before putting the professional mask back on. With a subtle cock of my head and nod, I signaled Nennel to grab Ozwald and move back to the kitchen. She tapped our Human on the shoulder and whispered something to him. Oz gave her a nod before he moved left while Nel moved right, both casually making their way back toward the kitchen, offering food along the way. One at a time, we each stepped into the kitchen, doing our best not to appear like we were grouping. Each of us divested ourselves of trays and moved into the storage room in the back.

The moment all three of us were in the far back corner, I started with, “Well, I can see why you said changes would be needed. I wasn’t expecting every corp-rat to come armed and armored. What I expected was to have to check for traps, but there’s no hiding anything in that Leviathan fishbowl unless they’re planning on dropping corp-rats in the shark tank. But we’ll deal with that in a bit. For right now, what can the two of you tell me about what’s happening?”

Ozwald was the first to speak up. “Well, to begin with, not all of our targets are here. Three of our five are here. A Sun Elf, a Scarriane Human, and a Serean Dracose. They are currently guarding the deal maker for Vartex, a Human man named Collins. He has a briefcase chained to his person that likely contains their half of the deal. Collins is currently having a conversation with my mother. You won’t be able to miss her. Dark skin, pale hair, and she’s the only one not in combat equipment.”

“That’s all handy info. What do we have on the opposition?” I queried

“Trouble,” Nennel answered. “On paper, everyone here is either a paper pusher or security. In truth, every person in that room, other than Collins and Mz. Ozwald has combat experience. I might even guess most of them have an Adventurer class. This goes for both sides.”

“Fragging corp-rat back-stabbing on both sides of this fence. I think we were in the real shark tank, and not walking over one. So, are both sides angling to turn on the other? Vartex seems dangerously outnumbered if they’re going to ambush.”

“They’re unworried either.” Ozwald pointed out.

“I don’t like it.” I chewed on a knuckle in thought, likely appearing like my Primal guise was nibbling on air and holding a hand to his neck. “Either, A: Who Vartex brought has enough skill to outstrip twice their number. Or B: They have something else in their hand. Maybe both.”

“What could they be holding?” Ozwald asked with clear skepticism. “Their best option would be reinforcement in reserve. But it wouldn’t matter how many soldiers they brought as backup. Sieging this tower is a one-way ticket to the afterlife.”

“I agree,” I said. “We must be missing something.” Then, an idea wormed its way into my forethoughts. “Did either of you spot Thallos?”

“Your uncle?” Ozwald asked. “I have never seen the man before.”

“I saw him,” Nennel answered. “He’s in the back right corner on the other side of the room. He’s wearing fancy threads, but he’s sipping from a decanter of something strong, like a drunk on the side of the road.”

“The drunk?!” Ozwald asked Nel in shock. “That drunkard is the diabolical mastermind?!” He pointed toward the door as if Thallos were just in the doorway.

“Yeah,” Nennel answered simply, with a shrug.

I gave a groan as I massaged the bridge of my nose in exasperation. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Why do you want to know?” Nel asked me.

“I suspect Thallos has been doing more behind the curtain than simply orchestrating a deal. Both sides in that room have a sense of confidence. Like they both know they have the upper hand. I think I need to ask him.”

“You’re just going to walk up to the only man in the room who both knows you personally and wants you dead and ask him about his schemes?” Ozwald asked me as if I had lost my mind.

“Yup,” I answered simply. “I might be safer for you, Oz, to talk to him, since he doesn’t know you personally. But he won’t give up anything of value. I know how he thinks and acts. I’ll see if I can trick a hint or two out of him and piece it together.”

The other two argued against the risk I was taking, but they relented after realizing I would not budge on the decision. They both went back to serving and listening in while I carried a fresh tray through the crowd toward where Nel had spotted Thallos.

Where I found him was both convenient and dangerous. Thallos, dressed in a charcoal and scarlet dress suit, sipped on something amber from a decanter of shaped sapphire beside the rest of the notable figures for our mission. He bantered and joked with our targets, a Sun Elf woman, a Serean Dracose, and a Scariane Human. Not far from those three was their security charge, a crisply dressed human man in a smart three-piece suit of black and brown, square-frame glasses, and an armored-metal briefcase handcuffed to his left wrist. The middle-aged Human was holding a casual discussion with a woman who could only have been Ozwald’s mother.

Just like her son, Laina Ozwald had dark brown skin, pale hair, and frigid pale eyes. But there were noticeable separations between the two kin. Oz’s hair was pale gold-blond, and his eyes were azure sky gray-blue. His mother’s hair was silver-white and not with old age. The chilly-colored hair was worn in a complex braid running down her back. Her eyes were the shade of blue you would give, peering through arctic waters on a clear day into a crystalline iceberg, frigidly cold, sharply clear, and holding no embers of love or trust. She wore a slim, one-piece holo-fabric dress with a slit down one leg and the opposite shoulder bared. The dress was presently displaying a shifting pattern like sunlight dancing through a body of water.

Standing on either side of Laina Ozwald were a pair of Spliced bodyguards. To her left was a formerly Human man, displaying features like patches of red-tan scales and slit-pupil eyes with yellow irises. To her left was a formerly Elven woman with a nose and ears shaped closer to that of a mountain cat than a person and green-gold feline eyes. Both of these guards wore advanced raid armor designed to handle blasts, blades, and bullets. -Man, as I shall call the first guard, was armed with an automatic rifle slung across his back, two daggers at his back, and an elemental pistol at his hip. Cat-Lady, as I shall call the second guard, was equipped with enough Myst Blade weapons to assault a fortress. Six Myst Blade throwing knives on either caff, a bandolier with another eight of the same, two separate pairs of boot knives, a pair of short swords on the small of her back, four separate sheaths of shuriken on her hips, and I was willing to bet that she had more I failed to spot.

As soon as I was within earshot of the group, I caught the tail end of a story Collins was telling Laina, “-then her father raised the price just to spite me after I inquired about her face. I simply wanted to know if she’d suffered an accident, in case there would be additional problems. The man was offended when I raised the question; then he got more enraged when I told him I didn’t care how she looked, so long as she could work.”

“Parents always seem to set so much value in how their children look.” The hostess replied to Collins. “Every baby is a beautiful one, according to the mother. It seems so difficult to prove to these people that their children’s value is in their capacity for work output. Goals must be met after all.”

I blocked out that discussion in favor of listening in on the group of three targets, standing together like eggs in a basket, beside a hungry fox. With two swift strides, I stepped up beside the gathered cluster and inspected each person while listening in.

The Sun Elf woman gave a boisterous belly laugh at something Thallos had said. She was armored in black and gray ballistic armor with a name tag that read ‘Ember’. She gave Thallos a hearty slap on the back. “I gotta say, Judge, you know how to make even a stuffy party like this a wild time. Your stories are killer. It’s really a bummer that Jenkins didn’t come to this shindig. He’d av loved em.”

“Where is your Jenkins squad buddy?” Thallos asked innocently before taking a swig from his decanter.

The Human spoke up. “We could use the whole squad. But it’s just us lowly tools.” The man with short brown hair and tired brown eyes wore similar armor to Ember, but his nametag read ‘Seth.’

“What?!” Thallos drunkenly exclaimed in offense. “You guys aren’t tools.” My uncle threw an arm around the slender Dracose’s neck in comforting assurance as he continued talking to Seth and Ember. “I just know that you ALL are gonna get a stroke of luck tonight. You’ll have nothing to worry about tomorrow, I’ll promise you that.” Thallos was playing the happy drunk for appearances. However, I knew him better than that.

I noticed those hints he teased. I had yet to hear a lie drop from his lips, but his wordplay games were a weakness. He said they would have a stroke of luck. He never said it would be good luck. He claimed they’d have nothing to worry about tomorrow. It’s hard to worry when you’re dead.

The Serean Dracose was human-sized with dreadlock-like flesh tendrils for hair in place of horns, much like any other Serean. His cobalt-blue scales were dull, and there were heavy bags under his shamrock eyes. With a glance at his chest, I determined that the Dracose’s name was Greth. Greth looked to be in ill health and nervously held a drink in both clawed hands. He kept flitting glances at Thallos as if he wanted to speak but feared the aftermath.

“Excuse me, sir,” I addressed the Dracose with my own worried tone and expression. “Mister…Greth?” I spoke his name with uncertainty, as though I was only just reading his nametag. “You seem a bit… out of sorts, sir. Can I get you anything? Digestive aids, perhaps?”

“No, no. I’ll be fine. Thank you.” Greth turned down my offer. “Just a bit nervous for the event, is all. I’ve never been hunting in a forest so high above the ground before.”

“Hunting? Truly?” I wondered, injecting a note of awe into my questions. I pantomimed verifying the claim by looking to each member of the group with a shocked and disbelieving expression. They all gave silent nods of confirmation. “You all have my deepest apologies.” I pandered to the four. “I am still new with this employer, and I was sent to work this event as a last-minute stand-in. You all are telling me that this group of almost a hundred people is going to simply go up to the roof, and what? Shoot birds?”

“Don’t be a fool.” Thallos tipsily chided me. “There’s a whole forest/jungle place on top of this building. We’re all,” he waved his bottle hand in a gesture toward the entire room, “goin up there to hunt some game.” Thallos, still holding on to Greth leaned toward me and spoke in a mock-whisper. “I’m hopin they loose somethin that can bite back.” The Wild Elf took a long pull from his bottle, parting from the decanter’s spout with a dramatic sucking kiss before raising the bottle over head and proclaiming, “I’d better sober up before the deal. The Judge does need to pass his verdict like a professional… or was it passing a law?” Thallos mused on his own question as he turned and walked toward the exit to the room. I watched the bastard stagger away while a hot coal stoked in my chest.

I was shocked out of my vengeful brooding when the Sun Elf, Ember, spoke up, starting a new, but related, conversation. “It’s too bad we couldn’t get the rest of the team here,” she spoke with a sad tone and sadder smile.

“I can’t believe Jenkins bailed on us at the last second,” Seth complained. “He would’ve been incredible for a sport like this.”

“Yeah, if he didn’t burn down the entire forest in the process.” Ember retorted with a smirk.

“Where is the rest of your team?” The question fell from my mouth before I even knew I had a question to begin with. I knew full well what happened to her team, but I wanted to know how she was going to answer.

“Dead. Mostly.” Greth answered.

“I’m sorry, what?” I painted my question with a hint of distress, but not too much. “Was it a bad mission or something like that?”

Ember gave a snort of morbid amusement as she plucked a quiche from my tray. “Or something like that. Our team has had a string of luck so bad I’d think we’d been hexed. I checked that, though. I guess the gods have come calling on our karma tab.”

“Excuse our barbarian queen,” said the Dracose, Greth, with an irritated glare shot at the Elf woman. “Our security team was bigger, but we’ve suffered some… misfortune. We’ve lost several team members over the past few months to accidents.”

“It’s all suspicious, if you ask me,” Seth replied with a casual gesture of one hand while he picked up a quiche from my tray with the other.

“I’m sorry to hear such terrible things happening,” I muttered in a tone of awkward sympathy as I looked away.

“It makes me wonder why Jenkins backed out in such a hurry.” Said Seth.

Greth gave a noncommittal shrug as he responded. “The Sorc did say that he got tangled up in a debt problem with a ghost from his past. Must’ve been bad since he said he was wearing the executioner’s collar if he didn’t pay by the end of today.”

“The weasel has more ghosts in his past than a graveyard.” Ember groused after she washed down the last bite of her slider with something from a flask stowed in a pocket of her chest piece. She gave a hiss of pained satisfaction as she screwed the cap back on and continued her commentary as she returned the flask to its home. “Jenkins should’ve been a Trickster instead of a Sorcerer. With how often he tries to outplay card sharks, at least then he’d walk away with some clat instead of a barge of debt. You catch who it was this time?” She asked Greth. “Or how he’s supposed to pay them off to keep his fingers? He’s only got seven left.“

“Maybe?” The Dracose scratched the back of his head with nervous energy. “He was talking pretty quick when he gave me his excuses. Something about someone buying his debt from the Needle Eye gang and demanding he do something tonight to pay it off in full.”

“Do something tonight?” asked Ember. “Think you can give a bit more?”

“Not sure what else I can give.” Greth apologized. “The spoon-eared ape said something about collecting toys, or some nonsense, to deliver to some Alchemyst. But I could be totally wrong on that. He was talking pretty fast.”

“How much you want to bet that he bites it tonight because he didn’t come to this shindig?”

Ember folded her arms behind her head in a relaxed stretch. “I’ll take a piece of that action. Two gold says that he’s going to lose another finger, but he’ll live.”

“Oh, Yeah?” Seth goaded with a smirk. “Four gold says that he’s dead by the end of tonight. And if he does have a full drop to a short stop, I call dibs on his locker.”

I excused myself from the discussion under the pretense of work and moved to find an isolated spot to message Nel and Oz. I found myself in a corner of the party room, looking beyond the wall of glass before me. It would only take a few moments for me to type up a simple message with mental commands and get back to work before I drew any more unnecessary attention.

To Nennel & Jonathan:

Iver: Nel, we’re going to need you to sneak onto the roof and scout it out. I just found out that the party is planned to hunt some kind of game in the rooftop jungle. We need to know the kind of game will be loosed. We also should get a head start on understanding the terrain.

Jonathan: I agree with Iver. However, the standard method of rooftop access is several grav-platforms installed in this floor. There is a stairway for maintenance and gardeners just beside the kitchen entry in this room, though it will likely be locked and in plain view.

Nel: I should be able to crack the lock in a few seconds with one of the three Gate Crackers I’ve got. But I’ve got no way to hide what I’m going from a room this open with this many paranoid people in it.

Iver: Distraction?

Nel: Distraction.

Iver: Oz. How do you feel about some petty revenge against your mother?

Jonathan: You want me to use my own mother as a party-wide obfuscation ploy? Do you still hate me that much?

Iver: I don’t hate you, buddy. I might have some unresolved issues. But I don’t hate you. Come on. Do it for the team.

Jonathan: … I hate you. But fine. Let me go get a fresh tray.

I was accidentally engrossed in the text conversion hovering in my eyes. So, I failed to notice someone walk up beside me until he spoke. “This is certainly a view worth remembering.” I restrained myself from jumping clear out of my own skin, but just barely. Slowly, I turned to look at Thallos. The man had dropped his drunk-act and was staring out over the view I hadn’t even noticed.

Carefully, I buried my hate so deep it wouldn’t be seen glowing behind my eyes. He had noticed me and taken an interest. This was bad. This was very bad. I needed to be more than careful. I had to be meticulous in my acting or he would catch me, and everything we were working on would go straight to Pandamonium and a wrapped gift basket.

I locked eyes on the scene. We were just above the blanket of smog that choked the hive-city below. A rolling and churning carpet of foul-tainted cloud lit by the final cresting beams of sunlight before the day closed its final page. Surrounding the sun, the clear sky was painted in a wash of passionate reds and oranges that faded into rich purples and blues dotted with the white specs of stars.

Finally noticing the scene, my breath caught in my chest, seized by a sated longing I didn’t even know I’d had. I had not seen the sky once since I had come to Grimvale. I hadn’t even thought of anything past what the toxic cloud covered.

“You can’t get a view of the stars like this anywhere else in the city. It’s easy to forget that they exist when you live under a blanket of smog.” Thallos’s comment echoed my inner thoughts so closely that I flicked a worried glance his way, afraid he had actually heard my inner thoughts.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen stars. They seem brighter than I remember.” I spoke conversationally. Internally, my fury was clawing at the inside of my head. The desire to slip my Infusion Dagger between his ribs was almost overwhelming. However, I kept a firm grip on my emotions. I refused to be the reason that this mission went up in flames.

“The stars always seem brightest when the surrounding darkness is at its deepest.” Thallos sounded like he was conveying some deep wisdom, but he only sounded like a self-inflated ass blowing hot air. I still played along. “Torches of diamond locked in the Stygian void. They look so close to each other. But are actually separated by more distance than a mortal can fathom. It sounds… lonely.”

Thallos let out a huffing chuckle that was somehow heavy with deep sadness and amused. “Sometimes alone is best. You can’t get hurt by anyone else that way.” He turned to look at me. “How rude of me to drop such heavy thoughts on a stranger without introducing myself. I spoke with you and the guards before. Though I never gave my name.” He offered his hand in greeting. “ The name’s Reed Judge.” I hesitated for a moment before accepting his grip and providing my own introduction, “Vetos Cliffpaw.”

“Glad to meet you, Vetos. You just needed a moment to see the stars, right?”

“You could say that. Just needed a reminder that there’s more than what’s just in this room right now. What about you, Mr.Judge? You mentioned that you were part of this deal the party is set for. Though you were drinking like a fish earlier. Is this work or pleasure?” I asked.

Thallos slipped his hands into a pocket of his dress slacks and gave a casual shrug. “I’m hoping for both. I’m here to act as the middleman between the two companies.”

“So, Mr.Judge is playing judge for a business deal. Guess you’re living up to the name.” I said the lame joke just to reply with something that wouldn’t hint at my identity.

Thallos gave a hearty laugh as he turned, leaning his back against the glass wall we stood before. “You seem stressed about the night. Don’t worry. If everything goes to plan, we’ll all leave here with what we deserve.” He pushed off the glass wall as he said, “Well, I need to get back to our hostess. Need to wrap up a few things before the party really kicks off.” Thallos took one step before turning back to say one last thing.

I restrained the impulse to escape from the man as soon as possible. That impulse died when I locked eyes with him again. Something was different. There was a… liminal sense that charged the small space between us. An almost palpable feeling of being on the edge of something. Something unfolding. Something just beyond an unseen door. When Thallos spoke, it didn’t seem like the true Thallos. “Those diamonds in the sky. You said they must be lonely. Loneliness is something that eats at the heart until you’re hollow. Out there. In that dark between stars. There are things that have been hollow from The First. Hollow like a starving belly. There are things far worse than any villain or beast. A boy like you has never seen true monsters. Best keep it that way.”

I stared at the retreating back of my uncle as he stepped into the party crowd. What was that? What had just happened? I shook the confusion from my head. I had work to do.

After a quick visual scan of the room, I spotted Nennel almost lethargically walking toward the kitchen doors as if to collect another serving tray. I wondered why she was being so sluggish when I spotted Ozwald. I spotted our Human comrade just as he tripped over his own feet and flung an entire tray of food at his mother.

The party froze in an instant, everyone waiting with bated breath for the dramatic fallout after a flub of such scale. Laina Ozwald had been coated from hair to heels in a thick pinkish cream sauce, complete with a sprinkling of shrimp and clam meat. Several pieces of shrimp protruded from her platinum hair like fish hiding from predators in an anemone. The hostess’s dark skin flushed with anger, and her icy eyes pierced her concealed son with enough venom and scorn to wither a plant monster. Laina’s body quaked as she clenched her fists.

“YOU!” Laina Ozwald accused with a sharply pointed nail of one finger. “You buffoon! You worthless troglodyte!” she gestured to her ruined dress with both hands. “This masterpiece, alone, costs more than you and every other help staff in this room will make in five years. You ruined my dress. You ruined my party. You’ve shamed yourself in front of all of these people, and you’ve shamed all the staff. I must now dock the pay of everyone working this party. But I choose to revoke your entire pay for this event, you low-living, no-talent, joke of a man.”

While Laina Ozwald was verbally brutalizing her son, unknowingly, I checked Nennel’s spot beside the maintenance door to find her gone, and the door unmarked… mostly. My sister had thought ahead and slipped a spare illusion pin into the locking mechanism. The small tool would’ve gone unnoticed by anyone but me, who spotted the smiling cat design just poking through the crack in the lock.

Laina spat venom at Oz, choosing colorful, high-class slurs while he bowed and apologized. While the Human woman verbally blitzed her son, one of the Evea partygoers, a female Mage of some kind, cast a cleansing spell on Laina’s dress. The hostess exploded at Ozwald about ruining her dress even as the very dress was being magically cleaned. It was clear Laina Ozwald had a melodramatic streak. She jumped at the chance to flaunt power and supremacy. She also seemed to have a taste for irony. 

Our Ozwald had taken a hasty escape from his mother by fleeing through the kitchen. We had time to kill while Nel scouted out the roof, so I checked in on our Human. Even covered by a false face, I could see that he was troubled. His hurried exit from the spill was a natural response for a server who monumentally blew the goose. But this was more. Jonathan was hiding in the furthest corner or the storage room, his eyes on his hands while he fiddled with a knife disguised as a pen.

“Copper for your thoughts?” I gently teased.

“You mean like the chat board that got us all here?” Ozwald spoke bitter words with a brittle edge. I winced, realizing my mistake.

“Sorry.” I turned and leaned against the wall, beside the Human who was reflecting the struggle between boy and man. “You know, I could’ve been the one to cause the scene. You just had to tell me no.”

“No. You know the relationship I have with her. She’s a cold bitch. A heartless shark of a woman. But… Those were the most words my mother has spoken to me at once, at least since my brother’s passing. She even spoke to me with more than just frosty contempt.”

“I’m… Glad, for, you?” I asked with stuttering confusion.

“I don’t know. Should I be happy? Happy that she spoke to me with emotion? Happy that I could have a piece of petty revenge? Happy that she didn’t know who I am? Happy that she actually looked at me? Happy that we’re on our way to unravel her plans? Or should I be upset?”

“Why not both?” I asked with a light voice and casual shrug as I stared off into the distance. “Now, I don’t understand people all that well, and I’ve never spoken with your mother. But I do know that people are complicated. Who says that you're only allowed to feel just one? Hells, even right now, I’m a mess. Fear, hate, and regret are all churning in my guts. But I’m also feeling faith and hope.”

Jonathan gave me a quizzical look. “Faith and hope? For what? I never expected you to have faith in the Gods.”

“Faith in the Gods?” I scoffed. “Definitely not. I’ve got faith in our teams. I have faith that Nennel will think smart. Faith that Ferris has the drive to refuse to give up. Faith that Kharmor is ready for anything. I’ve also got faith that Zynna will keep a level head, and Demierra will beat anyone into a coma if needed.” I turned and locked eyes with Jon. “And I’ve got faith in you.”

“For what? Betraying the team? Keeping secrets that will get you killed? Attempting to kill everyone myself and pin you with the blame?” He spat each example with words of contempt and a derisive sneer directed at himself.

I leaned my head against the wall and looked at the ceiling. “Don’t get anything twisted. We started on the wrong foot, and you were gunning for me. If you had asked if I had any faith in you a month ago, I would’ve laughed. But you’re a person like anyone else. You’ve got a stained past. You went looking for help and got scooped up by an undead serial killer who got your brain tied in knots. That same spook commanded you to do some pretty unpleasant things, but you said no. That means you do have at least some good in you.”

“You failed to mention that so-called spook then threatened me into doing even worse things.”

“And?” I teased him while wearing my own self-hating smirk. “You got strong-armed into everything that caused trouble. What about me? I killed who-knows-how many people when I threw together a makeshift bomb. I killed who-knows-how many more when the Stigmagaunt got loose. Those were accidents of my own devising. I have no one to blame for those stains other than myself.” I prodded myself with an accusing finger. “I have absolutely zero faith in myself. I just don’t stop to think ‘what if’ when dreck hits the fan.” I prodded Jon with that same finger. “But I’ve got faith that you are doing everything in your power to prove to the rest of the squad and yourself that you deserve to be trusted.”

I peeled myself from the wall and slipped my hands into my pockets as I made my way toward the door. “Now, get that head on straight. I think we’re about to need to put on a show.”