David grabs Lizzy by the throat when she comes to shake him awake. He releases her quickly and mumbles an apology, not looking her in the eye. Lizzy rubs her throat resentfully but declines to comment. “Breakfast is ready, asshole. Bosses want to talk.”

“I’ll be down.” David slides his legs out from under his covers and rubs his neck. “Give me a few.”

Lizzy shrugs and departs. David remembers that he wanted to ask her if Zhukov had returned.

His attic bedroom is too large. It’s all too easy to imagine it breaking apart, again, disappearing piece by piece into the Void.

The Void.

David holds up his left hand. The Mark is still there, like an ink splotch staining his skin. He clenches his fist, and it glows like dying embers.

So it wasn’t a hallucination. The Outsider really did speak to him. Called him into the Void. And gave him…

The Talisman forms from an inky black mist, right into his waiting palm. David hunches over and gags.

The nausea passes, but the thick feeling of dread doesn’t. David chokes it down and gives the Talisman a half-hearted squeeze, in a way of saying good morning.

‘You are like the whaler,’ Sabrina whispers in her sweet, sweet voice. ‘Casting your nets, harnessing the power of the deep. Taming beasts far greater than man was ever meant to be.’

The Talisman disappears once he releases his hold on it. He leans down, pushes his feet into his shoes, laces them up and stands. He stretches for a moment before he realizes something.

He feels great.

There’s no soreness in his joints, no pain from the various cuts and bruises he sustained the day before. Even his older marks had ceased to pain him.

He should be sore. He’s a swordsman, sure, but he spent the last six months sitting in a cell and getting absolute minimum exercise. His muscles were not used to the things he was forcing them to do yesterday. They should be screaming at him now, berating his activity for the day before and demanding he stay in bed, give them a break.

But he’s fine. More than fine. He feels refreshed, rejuvenated in a way he hasn’t felt upon waking up in a long time.

It’s like he’s in his twenties again. His body springs back into shape in an instant.

David clenches his fist again, and he shoots across the room.

It felt...better. He could still feel that strain, though. Feel it in his chest, his stomach. Some deep part of him that he couldn’t identify.

Reed Copper is sweeping the landing when David walks down. He stands at attention, and-Outsider’s balls-fucking salutes him. “Good morning, sir!”

“Morning.” David scratches his chin. “Breakfast is ready, kid.”

Reed blinks. “We already ate.”

Right. Of course. The servants would have eaten already, would have been up first and taken their meal before preparing their employer’s.

What time was it? David is usually up with the sunrise. He normally eats breakfast by himself, if he bothers to eat at all, and nurses a coffee a few hours later while Sabrina and Anthony eat.

Fortunately, there’s windows built into the main factory, slim and high up, but they let in the daylight. Mid-morning, then. David had been more tired than he thought.

“David ,” Thalia Timsh says from the table, at her usual place at the head. “Come sit down and eat. We have some things to discuss.”

Everyone’s already eating. If this were Dunwall Tower, David might take it as disrespect. But they aren’t constrained by those rules here. And he’s always thought they were silly anyway.

‘Listen,’ Sabrina calls out to him. ‘I can hear their every thought.’

He waits, but Sabrina doesn’t elaborate further.

David slides into his seat between Lizzy and Galia, who are both digging into their breakfasts with differing degrees of decorum. Rose places a plate in front of him, then scurries off back to the kitchen.

‘They look on you with anticipation. There is death in their dark eyes.’

David scrambles to hush the Talisman-though how he could even begin to do that is beyond him. He lets it form in his hand without thinking, then tries to hide it under the table. Nobody seems to notice anything amiss. Can they not hear her?

‘The people around you cannot see me,’ Sabrina admits. ‘I am here, and not here when you need me.’

At the moment, David supposed he should be grateful for that. Instead he just feels drained. He looks down at his plate.

They somehow managed to get Serkonan sausage. David pops a piece into his mouth and waits for the spices to explode on his tongue. Perhaps time has dulled his sense of taste. Or maybe he’s still in shock, and that’s why everything tastes like unsalted mashed potatoes.

“I hope everyone had a pleasant sleep,” Thalia states. It’s an empty sentiment. A way for her to gather people's attention. She doesn’t care how anyone slept. “Now it’s time to get down to business. And I’m afraid I have some bad news for you all.”

“Zhukov is missing,” Galia blurts, conveniently looking away from Thalia, not noticing her glare. “He’s been gone for two days, and our spy at Holger Square tells us that the Overseers have someone fitting his description in custody.”

“What kind of description did they give?” Edgar scoffs. “Big as a lamppost, looks like a bug? Speaks like he’s forgotten half his language?” He’s cut off by what sounds like Lizzy kicking him under the table.

Thalia purses her lips, but otherwise her face betrays no emotion. “Well, regardless. He hasn’t returned, and the last place we knew him to be going was the area around Holger Square. So it would be a safe bet to say that he is the captive they are talking about, and if not, then he’s most likely dead.”

“Zhukov’s not dead!” Galia says indignantly.

“You have spies at Holger Square?” David says at the same time.

Paul holds up his half-eaten sausage. “This sausage is bangin’.”

Thalia looks angrily to the people on her right. Both Edgar and Lydia, who has a book open on the table and has just been quietly trying to eat her breakfast, shrink into themselves under Thalia’s cold fury. Paul continues eating without even looking up at her.

“Well, whether Zhukov is dead or not,” Thalia closes her eyes and rubs her temples as if everyone’s mere presence is causing her mental strain. “Somebody needs to go after him. Even if he’s been killed, the Overseers can’t have his body. Who knows what kind of incriminating evidence he has under that coat?”

“Like his dick?” Lizzy mumbles into her porridge. Edgar dissolves into giggles, and David suppresses one of his own even though he doesn’t find it particularly funny.

If Thalia heard, her face doesn’t betray it. “David ,” she turns to him. “I wish we could give you a few more days to recover, but I’m afraid that doesn’t seem to be in the cards right now. We need you to go after Zhukov.”

“And conveniently, he was staking out our first target,” Lizzy announces, swiping her napkin across her mouth and throwing it down. “So we might as well take care of that while we’re over there.”

“Who’s our first target?” David asks, turning to Thalia.

“Luca Abele. His affair with the Lady Regent is well-known. Supposedly they plan to announce their engagement when the plague officially meets its end.”

Doubtful. Delilah had to remain single-officially, at least. That way she could marry Anthony once he was on the throne. And eighteen, though that was only a few months away. And that assumes Delilah had the morals not to marry a child.

“You want me to kill him?”

Thalia looks grim and nods. “Yes. He’s close with the Regent and has considerable pull in their social circles, not to mention his influence over the Duke and Duchess of Serkonos. He has to go.”

Edgar pipes up from the other side of the table. “We also think he knows where Anthony is being held.”

David head snaps to the side. Luca was as good as dead already-he’s wanted a good excuse to put the bastard out of his misery for a while, and him being the one who first broke in with the lie when Sabrina was murdered didn’t help endear him to David .

But if he knows where Anthony is? David will make him beg for death to pry that information from his lips.

“We think Luca is privy to that knowledge, yes.” Thalia clears his throat. “He gets dossiers regarding the official business of the Lady Regent’s inner circle, and we’re certain that somewhere in those documents lies Anthony’s location.”

David could float. He has an actual lead on where Anthony is now. He’s getting closer.

And yet, with this information comes a new desperation. David needs to get up now, head out now, find those papers and find Anthony before the information goes bad. Because David might be closer to finding Anthony, but Anthony is not any safer for it.

“When do we leave?” This is addressed to Lizzy, who looks almost startled by the question. David crams more sausage into his mouth and waits for her answer.

Lizzy blinks. “Uh. Well, our coats probably aren’t finished. And it would be smarter to wait until nightfall.”

“It’s imperative that we move as soon as possible.” Thalia brings her fork to her mouth and chews as if she had been discussing her latest party plans.

The Talisman comes to life in his hand. ‘The world is a stage and its people her audience for one Thalia Timsh. She acts the part that’s expected of her, faking relations with her family and friends. They are dolls to serve her own petulant will.’

Lizzy has a mouthful of something too, but she still frowns and talks with her cheeks bulging with food. “No. We need to fucking wait. Why would we purposely make our jobs harder?”

“Why would we give the Overseers more time to extract information from Zhukov, more of a chance to kill him?” Thalia is too polite to point with her fork, but David can’t help but feel it’s implied. Galia slaps her hand down on the table.

“Zhukov is not going to let a bunch of Overseers kill him!”

David startles and leans away from Galia, who is nearly panting with anger. Her eyes narrowed, trained on Thalia. David has never seen her like this.

‘Galia Fleet looks up to you, and believes in your cause,’ Sabrina tells him. ‘But she craves power. She will do anything for those who promise it. Her lust for it encompasses her being, and competes with her loyalty. One day she’ll have to choose.’

Edgar puts down his fork. “Dusk will give David and Lizzy some cover. Let 'em wait. The Distillery District is right across the river. Only take them an hour or something to get there.”

“Fine.” Thalia resumes picking at her food, ignoring Lizzy’s grumbling of that’s what I just fucking said.’“But I want Abele dead tonight. And you two back by dawn, with Zhukov. Or his corpse.”

“Understood.” David drinks from his water glass, kicking Lizzy under the table when she opens her mouth.

She glares, but all that comes out is a quiet, syrupy-sweet “Yes, mother.”

“Well, anyway…” Paul leans back in his chair. “Compliments to whoever got their hands on this sausage. It fucking rocks.”

“It’s rather spicy.” Lydia Boyle says without looking up from her book.

Paul rolls his eyes. “You people don’t know good food. I’m from Karnaca, and we like our food with a little heat.”

“Maybe food’s not supposed to set your mouth on fire.” Lizzy says as she shoves her spoon into her mouth. “Leave that to the whiskey.”

“Why not both? David , aren’t you a fellow Serkonan? Are you from Karnaca too?”

The Talisman shivers. ‘Paul Blanchard feels as if he was born into the wrong life, the wrong body. He resents Thalia for her coddled upbringing, her disregard for others, among other things. He is not working for her for typical reasons.’

David swallows. “I moved around a lot. Lived in a couple different places. Karnaca wasn't one of them.” Or if it was, he doesn't remember. He hopes Paul doesn’t have more questions.

But Paul seems satisfied, popping another piece of sausage in his mouth. “But you still have those Serkonan taste buds, right? You don’t think this bland shit they call food is real food.”

David has to smile at that, and raises his remaining sausage in agreement. “I’m with you on that one.”

“Traitor,” Lizzy mumbles under her breath.

With his face freshly shaved, David almost feels somewhat human. Maybe. That beard was driving him crazy.

He leans over and presses the wet towel to his face. He’s always hated facial hair, thinks it looks stupid and feels itchy. He grew out a mustache once just to see if he might get used to it. Sabrina threatened to write an Imperial degree to make him shave it off by the third week. It had still itched then.

David strips off his clothes, thinking a quick scrub-down might be in order. The others might be okay with only bathing once a week, if even that, but David was enjoying being clean.

He’s surprised to find that most of his cuts and bruises are completely healed. A few have turned yellow where they were a deep purple yesterday, which shouldn’t happen for another few days. He presses down on them, and finds that they don’t ache.

The scars left on him by Delilah’s tortures have set into his skin. They don’t hurt either, they don’t even itch-they’re just marks now. Marks that will never fade.

David gets dressed again.

Ricardo bursts in as David buttons up his shirt. He starts wiping things down, moving bottles and books banished to the side of the toilet. David looks towards the door. “I was just…”

But Ricardo just waves him away. “Esci, esci.” He continues on as if David isn’t there.

David backs out of the bathroom, keeping one eye on the cleaning madman. Sabrina awakens in his hand. ‘There was a girl. His...daughter? No. He met her when she slid her tiny fingers into his back pocket, in search of his wallet. There was no one he ever loved more.’

If David had an ‘okay person’ list going, it now numbered at two people and Ricardo just made it.

The factory is deserted when he comes down from the bathroom, but Lydia Boyle is descending the steps on the opposite stairs. She seems startled, but then smooths her shirt out. “Oh, David . I thought you’d be resting, in anticipation of tonight.”

“I’m supposed to go see Jerome, get my equipment in order.” David shoves his hands into his pockets. “Where are you off to?”

Lydia looks around, as if expecting somebody else to appear. “There’s a bookstore in the mall…”

“I’ll walk you there, then.”

She seems a little nervous at the prospect, but she nods her head. Really, David would have preferred walking alone, but he doesn’t want the people here afraid of him. And Lydia will be Anthony’s tutor, so he'd rather not intimidate her any more than necessary.

“So you said you’ve taught your niece,” David leads in, hoping Lydia will pick up at that.

Fortunately, she nods and begins talking. “Yes, Maria is her name.” She begins to smile then, at the mention of her niece. “She’s very young, but she’s intelligent. I’ve been teaching her basic things, reading and arithmetic.” She clasps her hands together, looking down at the ground. “I realize teaching is well below my family’s station, but Esma doesn’t think she needs a governess yet. And I’ve found I quite enjoy it.”

“That’s good.” David holds the door open for her as they exit the mill. “Is you niece with her mother?”

Lydia frowns. “Yes. My sisters are still at home. We had a...falling out.”

David nods. He knows better than to pry.

‘Lydia is the middle Boyle sister, younger by six minutes and older by two years respectively,’ Sabrina states plainly. ‘Esma has always been the better conversationalist, and Waverly wears their face better. But Lydia has the greatest secrets of the three.’

David looks at Lydia and thinks the face comment is a little harsh. Her sisters wear make-up and do up their hair, while the blemishes on Lydia’s face are plain to see and her hair pulled up in a knot. Her nose sits slightly long, but other than that, David would be hard-pressed to tell the three apart.

After a moment of walking in silence, Lydia raises her head again. “So you know young Lord Anthony best. Tell me about him.”

“What about him?” David is craving a cigarette. He hasn’t had one in months and it hadn’t bothered him before, but now he’s finding himself wanting to return to his old habits.

Lydia finally looks over to him. “Well, for starters, what was he studying? Did he enjoy his studies?”

“Oh, yeah. Anthony is a giant nerd.” A ghost of a smile plays on David ’s lips. “You know, when we first moved to the Tower and Sabrina had to be tutored, he would sneak into her lessons and hide in the drapery. He was about six at the time.”

Lydia throws her head back and laughs. “Did he understand any of it?”

“More times than not. A lot of it was stuff Sabrina had a hard time grasping. She would be furious.”

“That’s amazing.” Lydia throws him a genuine smile.

David finds himself nodding. “He’s a bright kid. Talented.”

“He’ll make a great Emperor.”

There’s silence between them for a second. David coughs. His fingers instinctively curl and call Sabrina to his hand.

‘Lydia Boyle is one of the finest musicians in the city,’ she presses. ‘When she’s alone, she plays the harpsichord. She much prefers the company of strings and ivory keys to that of men.’

“What is your lesson plan? For Anthony, I mean.” David watches her out of the side of his eye. “Government? Strictures? The arts?”

Lydia seems to visibly perk up at mention of the arts, but reigns herself in. “Well, I’m certainly not qualified to instruct him on matters of ruling. He probably already knows more than I do about that, as the Empress’s brother.” She fingers one of her shirt buttons nervously. “I can teach math, natural philosophy, literature. The sort of things I was instructed on myself, growing up.” She turns her face to him, trying to look casual. “What does he like? Does he enjoy art? Music?”

Anthony is impartial to music, but David doesn’t want to burst her bubble. “A little. He especially likes to read, though.”

That was an understatement. Anthony’s love for books was voracious at times. It started as soon as David taught him how to sound out words-he wanted to read everything, from the streets signs to graffiti to the copy of The Young Prince of Tyvia that David had stolen and had lying on the floor, intending on re-selling on the black market. He had been over the moon when they were shown the royal library at Dunwall Tower, and he was told he could read any book he wanted. He would often retreat to Billie’s study with a book in hand, and David was quite fond of the quiet afternoons that afforded, Sabrina scratching away at some Imperial order at her desk and Anthony sprawled out on the couch, lost in a book.

But Lydia just claps her hands in delight, snapping David out of the picture. “Oh, another reader! We’ll have plenty to talk about, then.” They’re in the mall proper now, and she points down the hallway. “I’ve been raiding the bookstore in here as of late, collecting things for lessons and my own use. It’s not as extensive as my family’s library, but then, I’ve read everything we own already.”

“I didn’t know there was a bookstore in here,” David mumbles. He casts a glance to his right, where Jerome’s workshop is located. Lizzy is already in there, probably playing with their new weapons and annoying Jerome.

Lydia is walking away, but she turns backwards to talk to him, a smile on her face. “Feel free to grab a book anytime you get bored! I can recommend one!”

David holds up his hand in farewell, and departs for Jerome’s workshop feeling a feather lighter.

“The waist is still too loose,” Lizzy remarks boredly, sitting up on a table and kicking her legs as she watches. She’s ornery because Jerome won’t let them smoke in the workshop. Too much whale oil in there, enough to send the entire building straight into the Void. Lizzy still pouted.

“I’m working on it,” The Dressmaker cuts back, pinning David ’s coat for the fifth time. “Your actual measurements are so different from what the official records say.”

David rolls his eyes and ignores it when the Dressmaker jabs him in the side. “Sorry, I guess I should have eaten more rats in prison to keep my bulk up.”

The Dressmaker puts his tools down and sighs. “That’s not...I didn’t mean…”

“Make it too tight and he won’t be able to breathe,” Jerome says, motioning with the stick of meat he’s snacking on. “How’s he supposed to slit Abele’s throat if he can’t talk without gasping?”

“Well, we aren’t talking Abele to death.” Lizzy throws a button at him. Jerome shrugs.

“You know what I mean.”

“It’s not going to be that tight.” The Dressmaker pushes himself up, motioning for David to take the jacket off again. “I just need it so it won’t shift around while he’s moving, or get in the way.”

“Calm down, I’m just teasing.” Jerome takes the jacket from him with one hand and shoves the remaining food in his mouth with the other, then sits down at the sewing table. “Would be nice if we didn’t have to rush this.”

“You can blame Zhukov for that.” Lizzy slaps her hand down on her thigh.

“Among other things,” Jerome mumbles under his breath. David cranes his neck to watch his sewing, how his brow furrows in concentration. He gently squeezes the Talisman.

‘He’s thinking about his brother. Something’s wrong with his brain; he’s grown, but has the mind of a child. Jerome put him on a ship bound for Alba when the plague first broke, kissed his forehead and said goodbye. He’s hoping he found their aunt’s shop.’

“And if I can just see your sleeve…” The Dressmaker tentatively reaches out to Lizzy.

She bats him away. “I’m fine. Fits perfect. David ’s the one who looks like a Tyvian prisoner.”

Hardly. Tyvia put their prisoners to work, so they at least had muscle.

David would gain it back, he supposes. He tried to limit what he ate at breakfast, but his stomach seemed bottomless now. Odd. He had little appetite in Coldridge. He never felt full, of course, but he couldn’t have eaten much more than his daily bread ration even if it had been provided for him. He never felt hungry. Just...empty.

He still doesn’t feel hungry. But he can eat. Can’t taste it, but he eats.

Jerome throws down his needle and stands up, looking triumphant. “There. Done. Now try this on and hope to the Outsider that this is it.”

David slides the coat back on. The waist had been cinched to make up for all the pounds he’s lost, but it fit snugly for now. They’d trimmed back the sleeves a bit so it didn’t catch on his wristbow. He thinks the long coat looks almost like a dress, coming down to his knees, but he doesn’t pay it much mind. Lizzy would just make fun of him if he pointed it out, brought it to her attention.

“It’s perfect.” Jerome’s face fills with relief.

“Good, good.” He rests against the table, crossing his legs at the ankle. “There’s a little practice range out in the hallway. Go try your gear out, get a feel for it.”

“That’s what that garbage is?” David mutters under his breath.

Both Jerome and the Dressmaker follow them out, Lizzy already taking a few experimental swings with her new cleaver.

The mall is empty save for Reed Copper, who is hiding under the stairway and peeking out between the steps. The others don’t seem to notice him. In another life David might have winked at him, let him carry on with the knowledge that he needed a better hiding spot. He holds up the Talisman first.

‘His sister tells him it wasn’t his fault. But he still wonders if he had just been quieter, done something different, been someone better, if maybe his mother would have loved him then. He’s too young to understand why she didn’t.’

David turns away.

“Try to hit that bottle at the top there.” The Dressmaker points to a large bottle of Old Dunwall. David frowns and wonders who the hell was buying that much booze at once, to need that oversized bottle.

He peers down his wristbow and fires. It goes wide by several feet. David loads another bolt in, fires again. It hits the wrong bottle.

“It’s not meant to be aimed down like a real crossbow…” The Dressmaker looks nervous, as if David is going to shoot him in the gut. “You can fire it from the hip. It will go where you want it.”

“I’ve had one of these things before,” David snaps. He leaves out how his was literally made from garbage, how the dispersion was so much looser, the aim just a little off. The fact that he never used it for anything other than short distances because he’s not a fucking sniper. And it had been over a decade since he used it.

The wristbow is fairly heavy on his arm. His muscles should already be getting tired of the weight, yelling at him to drop his arm, but he feels fine. Was this the magic flowing through his veins? The Mark is covered, a layer of black fabric bandages wound around his left hand. But David can feel it there. Pumping magic and strength and who knows what else into his body.

The Outsider must have had a reason to Mark him. He wouldn’t have bothered if David really was too old to snap back, wasted away too much to be of any use. Or maybe he would. Maybe it was amusing to watch an old man fail.

The thought makes David grit his teeth. He keeps firing until the brown bottle explodes, his bolt stuck to the wall behind it.

Once he gets a feel for the bow, David ’s aim is impeccable. Shattered glass falls to the floor as he hits one while moving sideways, backwards, over his shoulder. When he shoots one off out of a somersault is when Lizzy scoffs.

“Now you’re just showing off.”

David has to smile at that. Lizzy walks over to him as he stands, punching his shoulder. “You’re more spry than I thought you’d be, old man. Surprised your knees can take it.”

He rolls his eyes and pushes her back. “I’ve been doing this since before your mother got herself knocked up with your ass.”

Lizzy grins, showing off her golden teeth. “Joke’s on you, I was birthed from the sea and raised by river krusts.”

“That explains a lot…” Jerome mumbles. He walks over to the end of the range, glass crunching beneath his boots as he surveys the display. “Outsider’s ass, it looks like you threw a grenade.”

“It’s a shooting range, did you not want me to hit anything?” David folds his arms. Jerome just shakes his head.

“I’m not angry or anything. I’m impressed.” He shrugs. “We have a pretty expansive supply of empty liquor bottles anyway, thanks to Lizzy here.”

“Hey, you can’t throw shade on me and leave out Edgar and Paul’s work.”

Jerome just shakes his head and retreats back into the shop. Lizzy taps David ’s shoulder. “Hey, I’ve always wanted to see how I measured up to the fearsome Royal Protector. Let’s have a spar, shall we?”

She puffs herself up and puts on a haughty accent, trying to look regal. David takes a quick look around. Reed has been coaxed from his hiding spot and is watching them openly, but the Dressmaker is with him, head bent in conversation. Reed talks without tearing his eyes from David and Lizzy. He should be fine, though, as long as he stays where they can see him.

David pulls out his sword. “Ready when you are.”

Joan Catspaw was one hell of an opponent, he’d give her that.

She was opportunistic. Relentless when it suited her and patient when it didn’t. Crouching, waiting for one missed step that would put her at advantage. What she lacked in poise she made up for in brutality. There was a power behind her swings that David would not have expected from someone so small and bony.

It all would have been scandalous in court duels, and disgraceful for a Navy officer, but they didn’t have the luxury of knowing they’d keep their lives if they lost a fight. People like them dueled to the death, and everything goes then.

Lizzy beats him the first time. David sits there, blinking, while the cold of the stone flooring seeps through his pants. Lizzy leans over to offer a hand, more to smirk at him than actually help him up. David accepts and resists the urge to pull her down.

Draws seemed to be the only way their fights resolved from then on. Neither could knock the other down. They’d end up with their blades at each other’s throats or positioned over their hearts simultaneously before they conceded and stepped away, mopping the sweat from their brows and downing some water before returning to it.

Their sparring had drawn a crowd, as it was. Jerome came back out of his shop to watch, leaning over a pile of abandoned boxes. Lydia had finished with her book browsing and was sitting on the steps with one open in her lap, blatantly ignoring it in favor of the match. Edgar and Galia stood off to the side and, if David wasn’t mistaken, seemed to be taking bets.

David figured he could beat Lizzy using his magic-but that felt almost like cheating. Wasn’t he supposed to be the best there was? That’s why he was trusted to guard the Empress. If some young officer just kicked out of the Navy could beat him, then he had no business trying to repel assassins.

Besides, it was smarter to keep the Mark under wraps. Both literally and figuratively. He had a feeling Lizzy wouldn’t care, but someone else in their group might. And even if they didn’t care enough to report him, word might get out. He would not taint Anthony’s ascension and rule with whispers of witchcraft and heresy. This was his own fight, and he’d win it on his terms.

“Fucking...David …” Lizzy pants, bent over at the waist. David is in a similar position, bracing himself against a crate to catch his breath.

Across the room, Edgar cups his hands. “Oi! You can’t stop yet! There ain’t no winner!”

Lizzy rises to her full height and gives him the finger. “You come over here and I’ll show you a winner!”

Edgar puts his hands up and backs off at that. Lizzy rolls her eyes and turns to David , a grin stretched across her face. “Let’s just call it a draw so we can go get some lunch. I’m starved.”

“Yeah. Sure.” David ’s not hungry, but he could use a break. He sheathes his sword and falls into step beside Lizzy. Their spectators all seem to lose interest, Jerome stubbing out his cigarette and returning to his shop, Lydia packing up her pile of books. David looks around to see if Reed and the Dressmaker were still watching, but his eyes are drawn in by a ragged coat and a fur collar.

It must have been nice once. Long hem, quality fabric. That style had been popular once, maybe a decade ago. (He’d learned far too much about coats while sitting in on the Empress’s meetings with her tailor) But now it’s in tatters, the fine layer of dirt it’s accumulated probably holding it together better than the fraying stitches. The fur trim is matted with something David doesn’t want to think about. The coat is positively worn ragged.

And dressed in it is an old woman, her hair in a fine updo and her bony wrists held up to her chest. Eyes pale and blind.

The same woman from the Void.

David stops in his tracks. Lizzy pauses then, following his gaze to the old woman, rolls her eyes.

“Right. Forgot about her yesterday.” She grabs David ’s elbow and pulls him over. David feels the overwhelming sense that he should dig in his heels and not get a centimeter closer.

The woman raises her head as they approach, which Reed looks relieved by. She had seemingly cornered him. David wonders where the hell the Dressmaker went and why he left him alone with her, and why he was considering the Dressmaker the ‘safe’ person to be around in the first place.

“Don’t be a pussy.” Lizzy pushes him forward. “It’s just old Granny Rags.”

The woman settles her blind eyes in their direction. David swallows. “Your...grandmother?”

Edgar bursts into laughter while Lizzy blows a stray brown hair out of her face. “By the Outsider’s hairy ass…”

“Come now, there’s no need for such language.”

Granny Rags’s voice is stronger than one would expect, articulate and harsh. She holds up one bony finger to wag in Lizzy’s general direction. “Elizabeth, dearie, you can be such a nasty woman at times.”

“Oh, I can show you nasty, alright.” Lizzy leans back on her heels and folds her arms, turning to David . “Naw, she’s not my grandma. She’s nobody’s grandma. She’s just old as fuck.”

Behind them, Edgar takes an obnoxious sip of something in a brown bottle. “Now that wasn’t very nice.”

Granny Rags tsks. Literally says the word, shaking her head all the while. The only person David has ever seen do that was one particularly stuffy governess of Anthony's who lasted all of a month before she was fired, much to the relief of David ’s nerves.

“Rubbing it in.” Granny Rags sighs. “Granny’s dear husband can’t give her children, no no no. Oh, but I have my birdies to keep Granny company. Or I would, if Reed stopped shooing them away.”

“They’re rats, Granny.” Reed protests while holding his broom across his chest. “They’ll get us sick. They’ll get you sick.”

Granny pats Reed on the head, and he visibly shrinks under her hand. “Oh, Granny doesn’t get sick. My husband takes very good care of me, don’t you see?”

“Your husband’s fucking dead, Granny.” Lizzy grabs David ’s hand. “Come on. We’ll have enough crazy around when we find Zhukov’s ass. We don’t need this.”

“Wait!” Granny Rags bursts forward, latching onto David ’s arm so quickly he nearly shoves the old woman back out of surprise. She pulls on him, and Lizzy pulls back, and for a moment David wonders if Lizzy and Granny Rags have begun an impromptu game of tug-o-David .

Lizzy, thankfully, drops his hand with a huff. David stands there with Granny Rags hanging off his other arm. She wets her lips. “You’re going to the Distillery District tonight, aren’t you?”

David takes a glance back at Lizzy, who looks equally confused. “How did you-”

“Oh, I hear everything.” Granny slaps his bicep with enough force to make David wince. “Granny has ears everywhere. And a little birdy told me what you and Miss Elizabeth are up to tonight.”

“Cut the crap, Granny, how do you always find this shit out? You disappear for days then act like you’ve been sitting beside us the entire time. It’s fucking unnerving.” Lizzy crosses her arms.

Edgar pops up beside her. “Yeah, only three of us knew who our first target was before this morning. You’ve been gone all day, how the fuck do you keep finding this stuff out?”

Granny pays Lizzy and Edgar no mind, going so far as to turn David in the opposite direction and begin leading him away. “I used to live down on Bottle Street, did you know? Quaint little apartment. Oh, but Slackjaw and his men have made such a mess of the place.”

“Uh huh.” David digs in his heels, trying to gently pry Granny Rags’s iron-grip from his arm. She doesn’t even seem to notice.

“I didn’t want those louts getting their hands on my heirlooms, no, so I stashed them. You seem like the type who would appreciate such lovely treasures, dear.”

“He doesn’t want you old jewelry, Granny.” Lizzy is getting impatient. David would tear himself away, but Granny Rags turns over his arm and pats the back of his hand. His left hand.

‘She’s a crazy bitch, that’s for sure. But the last thing she is is harmless. Be careful.’

David swallows.

Granny’s decrepit smile doesn’t fade. “You remember my doctor, don’t you dear? Doctor Galvani, who lives in that big house on Clavering? He has a secret room in his lab, hiding behind his words, those doctors types, where he can hide his crimes. That’s where I hid them!”

She releases him then, her hands dancing around each other. David quickly takes a step back. “I’ll keep that in mind,” He gets out, turning around.

Lizzy loops her arm in his, pulling him away. “Have a good night, Granny!” She yells. Edgar hurries along behind them.

Granny Rags still stands there, smiling. Her eyes trained on people she cannot possibly see. “They’re yours if you want them! You don’t even have to share!”

They pass by Reed, and Lizzy darts out and grabs him by the wrist. He yelps, dropping his broom as he’s dragged along. “Lizzy!”

“What, do you really want to be left alone with Granny Crazy-Pants?” She hisses. Reed shrugs.

“I have chores…”

“You can take a break. Come on, let’s find your sister.”

David gives her a look. “Just Granny Rags, huh?”

Lizzy shoves him. “She’s harmless in the sense that a rat with a butter knife could probably take her, but isn’t there that thing about hags eating children?” She pulls Reed closer to her. “I sure as fuck ain’t taking any chances.”

“Aww! Lizzy loves Reed!” Edgar teases.

Reed yanks his hand away from Lizzy, wrinkling his nose. “Ew.”

“So why is she here?” David interrupts, trying to prevent any unnecessary stabbings.

“Your guess is as good as mine, pal.” Edgar keeps pace with them now, on the other side of David , and the line-up makes David think of Tyvian dolls. Largest to smallest.

“I don’t even know how she got in here,” Lizzy says as they exit the mall. “She just showed up one day and started strolling around, being her batty self. For whatever half-baked reason, Zhukov won’t let us kick her out.”

“What did Zhukov do?” Galia had been waiting for them outside, evidently. She stubs out her cigarette and pushes herself away from the wall to meet them.

Lizzy waves her hand. “Won’t let us get rid of crazy old Granny Rags.”

Galia crosses her arms. “I’m sure he has his reasons.” She huffs.

“What? What fucking reason?” Edgar groans. “She doesn’t do anything. Just wanders around being creepy all day. We just had to save a small child from her clutches!”

At the other end of the line Reed protests. “I was fine! I had a bunch of aunts who are weird like that. I’m used to it.”

“You got a weird-ass fucking family, kid.” Lizzy pats his head affectionately.

Galia turns back to Edgar. “So, do you owe me a drink?”

“David didn’t win shit, Fleet. They both pussied out.”

Lizzy returns to her own quarters after lunch, intending on taking a nap. She advises David to do the same.

He does go upstairs and lay down, but sleep doesn’t come to him. He knows he’ll need the sleep. They will very likely be out until dawn.

But David ’s never been a nap kind of person. Sighing, he pushes himself out of bed.

What could he do? Sparring would make him tired. He doubted he could quiet his thoughts long enough to read a book. He couldn’t really think of anyone he knew well enough to talk to-there was Galia, but David wasn’t sure he could trust her. He really couldn’t think of anything he could say anyway.

There were those things that helped him escape from Coldridge. Powers, gifted by the Outsider. Those were worth exploring before he left.

Blinking is simple enough-aim somewhere, think about it, and let the magic take him there. There's a temporary strain after using it, but if he concentrates, he can feel it ebb away after a few short seconds. If he was patient, allowed himself to ‘recharge’ a bit after every use, he could avoid being completely drained by it.

Next he tries utilizing that ‘Pull’ power he used to break a bottle. He stands at the one end of the room and focuses on his pillow. It was something light, quiet if he dropped it and wouldn’t break. He raises his arm, feels the tingle of his magic through his muscles, and wills the pillow to move.

It does so, but the tingling in his arm increases in severity until it's absolutely unbearable. David drops his arm, sore and heavy, and the pillow falls to the floor.

Right. So that usefulness was limited. Unless he found a better way to deal with the mana drain it caused.

The only thing left he hadn’t tried was his black-vision power, whatever the hell that was. Possibly there were other skills, other powers hidden away in the Mark’s symbols, but he didn’t understand how to unlock them. Perhaps they would present themselves to him. In time.

He closes his eyes. Focuses. When he opens them again, everything is the same.

He tries again. Same results. He tries to call back to those moments at Coldridge, the desperation and fear. No, he pushes those down. He was calming himself at the time. Trying to bite down the panic, focusing on his task. He was looking for something. He doesn’t have anything particular to look for now, but he still thinks on it.

David opens his eyes. Before him is a sea of black, all unimaginably dark and deep. Yet, somehow, he can tell one shade of black from the next.

He sees the inner workings of the walls, the beams and insulation packed into the tiny space. Sees the tree branch that brushes along the side of the mill. The picture fades away before it meets the tree-there’s a limit to his sight, and beyond that, everything is just grey.

David looks down and is slightly startled by the activity. He can see right through the floor, see the moving figures of black, shimmering grey outlining their details.

Below him, A woman with her hair cut into a bob sits at the dining room table, head bowed. Probably reading a book, as it can only be Lydia. Galia is the only other woman with that haircut, and David can’t discern a sword or her bulky jacket from the figure. He can see Rose walking around the room-he can tell it’s her, with how huge her hair is. Two men in the kitchen, one obviously Gerald by his height and posture. The other is taller, skinnier, so could reasonably be either Ricardo or Paul. David can’t see a mustache, which would make it Paul, but that might just be a limitation of his power.

There’s more grey as David tries to extend his power further, see down to the first floor. He concentrates, thinking the sight might come into focus then, but there’s nothing. His vision is clear, until there’s nothing.

Except...what was that?

David blinks. The dot, the pulsing orange that he saw lingers on his retinas. That was...something. He didn’t know what, but he intended on finding out.

His eyes feel strained now, like after a couple hours of reading and arguing with Sabrina that he didn’t need glasses, he just liked holding the paper this far away from his face. It fades after a few blinks. This power is weird. Like looking at the world through the filter of the Void.

One eye on the world, one on the Void. David wills the Talisman to his hand. To his surprise, it’s humming with a strength he only felt when it was first pressed into his hands.

He moves his hand, and it quiets. But only slightly. He moves it back and it increases again.

Ah. It's responding to the...whatever he saw, with his vision aided by the Void. Another reason David has to go looking for it.

He goes to make his way down the stairs but then he thinks. This would be a perfect opportunity to practice. If he screwed up tonight there would be dire consequences, but the worst thing that would happen now would be someone looking at him oddly as he fell from the ceiling. And there were worse things in life than that.

He crouches on the top step and aims for a nearby beam. Looks. Focuses. Blinks.

It’s easy enough to grab onto the beam as it comes at him. He grins, looking around the the nearest suitable beam, crossing the ceiling like some sort of arcane monkey.

Lydia is still at the table while he swings from beam to beam above the factory floor, but she’s not focused on her book. She’s talking to Rose, who is busying herself around the table.

“There hasn’t been much cause for singing lately, I’m afraid.” Rose bites her lip as she organizes a table's worth of books and loose papers. “I might be a little out of practice.”

“But you can get back in practice easily.” Lydia waves her hand, looking very animated but pointedly not turning in her seat to face Rose. “Perhaps you should join me some night. I’ll play the harpsichord for you, and you can sing for me.”

“Hmm. Perhaps I shall.”

David cranes his neck to peer into the kitchen. It is indeed Paul in there, with Gerald at the stove. Paul is telling some sort of story about fighting a flock of geese with his bare hands, complete with punching the air. Gerald just nods and continues his work.

Lydia and Rose have turned their conversation hat pins, and David makes his exit before his arms give out.

He holds the Talisman out again when he reaches the storeroom, the approximate area where he saw the glow. It pulses with an even greater intensity with proximity, leading him on. David jumps onto the top shelf and creeps along until the Talisman nearly vibrates right out of his hand.

It’s a spool of fabric, exactly like all the others left in the storeroom. David runs his hand along the top.

Something clatters to the floor. Something white, and black. David picks it up.

It’s bone.

He’s seen bonecharms before, of course. Used a few himself. Nearly everyone did, despite what the Abbey said about them. Most considered them harmless. And they were-mostly. But they made people stupid. When David , Billie, and Anthony were still living on the streets, a teenage boy they occasionally split rat skewers with got ahold of one and claimed it made him bulletproof. His friend shot him in the stomach and David had to get Sabrina and Anthony to sleep that night with the sound of his pained moaning and crying filling the cold air. He was dead by noon the next day.

David had gotten rid of his bonecharms after that. Not because they made him uncomfortable or anything, but because he forbade Sabrina from having them lest she do similar extremely dumb things and he didn’t want to be a hypocrite. Anthony wasn’t allowed them either, but he had been properly terrified by the event and was too young to think being an idiot was cool, so he wasn’t the one David was concerned about.

There’s a crack in the bone, blackened a bit around the edges. Did that mean it was no good? There’s still magic hiding in its etchings-David can feel it thrum in his hand. But was it less powerful for the imperfection?

David slides the charm onto his belt. He figures Sabrina can sputter and call him a hypocrite all she wants from the Void. She’s earned that.

He Blinks out of the storeroom. The Talisman is sensing something else, in the direction of the mall. Another bonecharm, maybe.

Getting around outside is a different challenge, but there are enough steel beams and tall objects to suit him. He Blinks himself over to a dormant tree, holding onto the barren branches and leaning out to take stock.

The mill is deserted save for Ricardo, who is sweeping back leaves from the sidewalk while singing a little song himself. His voice is low, quiet, and David has to strain to hear the lyrics. He doesn’t understand the words, but he can tell it’s meant to be sad.

There’s a certain beauty to winter, he supposes. He’s always thought of it as a dead season, with plants shedding their unnecessary parts and curling up within themselves, cold seeping into coats and houses and people. But it is a time where things are quieter. Still, and silent.

‘I knew this world. Parts of me remain, but the world seems...strange.’

It was strange. David can barely believe it’s the same world he had a year ago. To him, he supposes, it wasn't.

Blinking over to the outbuilding Lizzy and Edgar used, David notices a skylight on the roof. He crouches and looks in, cupping his hands around his eyes to see past the late afternoon light.

Lizzy is fast asleep, half-sprawled off her cot. David considers knocking on the glass and scaring the crap out of her, but then he’d have to explain how he got on the roof. Another time.

From there, David can Blink straight up onto the roof of the mall. He crosses the top, taking great care to stay on his toes and not freak out everyone inside with his footsteps clobbering over their ceiling. The Talisman leads him to the end of the roof, where a bird has woven their nest. There’s no sign of the bird, and it’s too early for eggs, so David doesn’t feel too bad about disturbing it.

He can’t tell if it’s the stupidest bird on the world or the smartest, weaving a bonecharm into its nest. Could birds use magic? Smart if the bird recognized it. Stupid because now David wants it.

This bone is immaculate, no cracks or chips aside from the ones intentionally carved into it. This one felt...different, in a way David really can't describe.

There’s something else, down by the water. After quickly checking to ensure the canal is deserted, David Blinks down. He cautiously approaches the water, holding out the Talisman to guide him.

It’s stuck in the reeds, a thing of stark white bobbing in the water, tangled with brown. He’s close enough to hear it sing now, bouncing around in his ears like soft screams. David grabs it out of the water, shaking the dead kelp and seaweed free.

He recognizes the Outsider’s Mark, but other than that, he’s not sure exactly what he’s holding. A piece of carved whalebone. He was given one in the Void, but the memory seems hazy now, aside from a few snapshot moments. Like he had been held underwater during the entire ordeal. He’s seen one of these before. What was it? A walk on the beach. The Emperor actually spending an hour of his time with his daughter, David lurking behind and keeping watch. Sabrina had been drawn to something in the water and had waded out to get it, despite the Emperor complaining about her ruining her shoes and his own Protector darting about the shoreline like an anxious cat, like a wave would come crashing down any second she was out of reach and take their precious heiress with it.

She had been so excited about her find. Thought it was so cool, and she begged to be allowed to take it back, to decorate her room. The Emperor and his Royal Protector had exchanged nervous glances, and told her to throw it back. Sabrina had pouted the entire way back to the Tower.

A rune. That’s what the Outsider had called it. A heretical artifact that could get a person taken away by the Abbey if they were found in the possession of one. A poor person, that is. The daughter of an Emperor would have been immune to such treatment, so David wasn’t entirely sure what they had been worried about.

The Talisman shudders in his hand, and Billie’s voice startles him.

‘Death. I feel only death from the one who watches you.’

Watching him? There was no one out here. But Sabrina could see things he couldn’t, that much he knew. David tucks the rune into his shirt and takes another look around. The canal and the streets around it are still empty. Silent. Still as the Void.

He makes short work of Blinking back up to the rooftop. He continues to watch the streets, trying to detect any sort of movement. Sabrina stays quiet. Finally, he sighs and lets his muscles relax. He didn’t know what that was, but it had to be gone now. Perhaps just a passerby.

David turns around and is nearly startled back by black feathers and beady eyes, standing on the remnants of the nest. A little black crow. Watching him.

For a moment, David doesn’t breathe. The crow is still, examining him with knowing eyes. Then the crow cocks its head at him, lets out one shrill caw and flies away.

David spends the rest of the afternoon in his attic, checking and double-checking his equipment. Ensuring he had extra ammo, that his gun and wristbow hadn’t suddenly ceased to function. Paul had slipped him some extra elixir, claiming Thalia had enough to keep her plague-free for a decade, so he now had seven vials of the stuff slid into little pockets sewn into his coat. He had room for twenty, though half of them were a bit more narrow. Jerome explained to him there was another elixir on the market, cheaper than Sokolov’s but still worked quite well.

He also has pockets now. David is relieved about that.

David took it upon himself to make his way to the canal when the time came. He didn’t feel like having to deal with a servant fetching him, having Thalia fuss over the details and ordering him around. David didn’t exactly dislike Thalia-but she was an aristocrat, and a teenage one at that. She was only older than Anthony by a few short months. She had no idea how jobs like this worked, what people like him were capable of. She was best off staying out of it.

He keeps an eye out for Granny Rags as he makes his way through the mall, but he can’t see her. Just as well. He slips out the door without a fuss.

Lizzy is already in the skiff, her face halfway between bored and annoyed. She’s arguing with Rose, who’s standing on the dock with her hands on her hips. David approaches cautiously.

“And I’m just telling you not to manhandle my little brother!” Rose yells, leaning over the water. “You’re always so rude to him. What in the Void did he ever do to you?”

Lizzy sticks her pinky finger is her ear. “Outsider’s ass, all I was doing was getting him away from crazy Granny Rags. I was trying to help him.” She takes her finger out and rubs it together with her pointer, flicking the crud into the water.

“Well, don’t. We can take care of ourselves.”

David decides it’s safe enough for him to appear now. “Something wrong, ladies?” he asks as he approaches. Lizzy rolls her eyes and looks away. Rose, as predicted, straightens up and clasps her hands together in front.

“David ,” she says, eyes big and nervous. David still can’t tell if she’s enamored with him or afraid of him. Maybe a little of both.

Lizzy audibly cracks her neck. “Well, sun’s going down. David and I have to get going. That’s your cue to leave, Rose-garden.” She ends with a pointed look in Rose’s direction. David solemnly nods and turns to get in the boat.

“Wait!”

He pauses. Rose looks to the ground, her hands finding one of her dreadlocks and tugging on it nervously. “I-I know you don’t have any reason to listen to me. And you’ll have other things to worry about tonight that fulfilling my request, I just, I-”

“Spit it out.” David says gruffly.

Rose blinks, hands dropping from her hair to clasp together at her chest. She meets his eye then. “You’re going to kill Luca Abele tonight, at the Captain’s Chair.”

“Or he might be at the Golden Cat,” Lizzy adds from the skiff. Then, in a lower voice, “He’ll probably be at the whorehouse.”

Rose nods quickly. “Yes. I heard the briefing. But I didn’t tell Thalia and Edgar this, and I doubt they would know otherwise.” She rocks back on her heels for a moment. “My brother will most likely be with Luca.”

David blinks. “Your brother.”

“My other brother,” Rose corrects herself, quickly. “My twin. His name is Joshua. He’s been...working, for Luca for the past few months.”

“Oh.” David doesn’t need her to elaborate. “I see.”

Rose hurries herself along. “He’s been keeping constant company with Abele since he was sold off. But he's not loyal to him, nor the Regent, believe me.”

“You want me to rescue him.”

To David ’s surprise, Rose shakes her head. “No. Joshua can take care of himself. We made plans, in case we were separated, so he’ll be okay on his own. I just, I beg you-” Rose raises her hands to her chest. “Just don’t kill him. If you can get him out of the Captain’s Chair, he can slip by the guards and disappear. You won’t need to worry about him squealing on you. Just, please, please give him a chance.”

David places his hand over her own, pushing them down. He locks eyes with her for a long moment. She’s still fearful, and there’s still a despair in her eyes that David can relate to. But there’s also a hope he could never dash.

“I’ll do what I can,” He promises.

Rose instantly relaxes. "Thank you.” She steps backwards. “Joshua was just a tad taller than me last time I saw him, but you should see the similarities. If you see a guy who looks like somebody put a pair of spectacles on a grasshopper, that’s him.”

She turns and runs then, scampering away so quickly her shoes kick up dust. David waits until she makes it back into the mall before jumping down into the skiff.

Lizzy is looking at him oddly. David scratches his nose. “What.”

She shakes her head. “Nothing,” she says, starting the skiff. “You’re just really not what I expected.”

David leans back, scanning the sky for the stars that will make themselves known at any moment. “I get that a lot.”