Chapter 8

“The Legal District is currently under lockdown. Any unauthorized individuals are to be considered suspicious and confronted with lethal force.”

David curses and hunkers down lower in Melusine. Not that anyone could see him now, but he feels especially naked without the owner of the boat present. Joan had spotted a stray guard on their way in. Hanging out near the entrance to the sewers, smoking down a cigarette. They had been able to pull in and hide Melusine a few yards down, but they’d have to pass him to get to the streets. Joan wanted to take care of him on her own.

Now she’s out of time. David’s feet splash in the six inches of water under the skiff, and he Blinks to the sidewalk.

Rounding the corner, David freezes at the sight of Joan creeping up on the unsuspecting guard. She grabs the side of his head and shoves her blade into his ribs in one smooth motion, then gently lowers him to the floor without making a sound. His head lolls to the side. Gives one last shudder. He didn’t even have time to scream.

David blinks, and the scene disappears in a flash of white. The guard is upright again, standing and watching the river. He flicks the butt of his cigarette into the water.

Joan springs upon in an instant. Her cleaver is out, but it stays clean. She wraps her other arm around the man’s neck. He gets out one strangled gasp before he goes limp. Joan nearly crumbles under his weight.

David Blinks across the water to help her, but she’s already got it under control. She looks up at him as she lays him on the ground. “Give him some of that knock-out shit, will you?”

The guard’s eyes are already starting to flutter, but he relaxes the instant he inhales the fumes from David’s bottle. Joan lets his head drop to the floor.

“There. He’ll snore for an hour.” Her mask is on, but David can hear the smile in her voice.

They walk to the edge of the walkway as David tucks the bottle back into his jacket. “I’m surprised you didn’t kill him.”

“Should I have?” Joan turns to him. “Was easy enough. Figured we’d leave some fuckers alive so your boy still has a City Watch after all this.”

The image of Lizzy’s blade reddening with the guard’s blood, of it dripping down and staining her hands burns in his mind. David shakes his head to rid himself of it. “We’re wasting time,” he grunts.

They sneak up the steps, keeping low to avoid being spotted from the streets. David doesn’t know the Legal District well. He never had much reason to visit. The occupants were rich enough to attract him during his thieving days, but they were also well-guarded to the point that it wasn’t worth it to steal from them. Sabrina never had much reason to travel here. Legal representatives travelled to her . He looks around for a notice board, something that would have a map. Above them, a speaker crackles and spouts off something about the ‘weeper’ count for the last month. David can only assume that was the term they’ve been using for late-stage plague victims. Somehow it seems disrespectful, dehumanizing. Like they were monsters instead of citizens.

“Scout up ahead,” he whispers to Lizzy. “I’m going to see if I can dig up a map.”

Joan doesn’t respond, only disappears in a cloud of black. David nearly smiles. She’s taken to his powers like cats to cream.

The riverfront is deserted, and David Blinks in front of a nearby bulletin board. He stares intently at the map posted there, trying to commit it to memory.

After a moment, however, his eyes gravitate to the right side of the board, where notices for wanted criminals are posted. Two in particular, really. Side by side, with charcoal renditions of their iconic masks. Nobody’s ever seen their faces.

The Crow Queen, and her Rat King.

They’ve come to the Empress’s attention before. Notorious around Dunwall, they dealt in blood and secrets. But little could ever be directly attributed to them, and even the Spymaster had problems tracking them down. They left no evidence in their crimes. Everyone would always know it was them, but nobody could concretely prove it. They were...evasive like that.

She was the leader, the so-called Crow Queen, named for the beaked masks her and her witches wore. Queen Jasmin, or the ‘Black Empress’, some called her. As if she was comparable in any way to Billie. Like controlling the criminal underworld of Dunwall was anything like running the Empire. The Crow Queen’s influence was felt far and wide, true. All across the island of Gristol, down to even the southernmost shores of Serkonos. They even had some contacts at work in Tyvia. But it wasn’t the same.

Nobody knew how the Crow Queen got her information, but it was said that there were no secret in Dunwall you could keep from her. The moment she laid her beady, bird’s eye on you, she knew the weight of your heart and the contents of your soul. That was what the common folk said about her, anyway.

David, however, didn’t normally believe such nonsense. The Crow Queen was a witch, yes. But he had a hard time believing she could read minds.

The King was her shadow, her second-in-command by pure definition. It didn’t seem right to pin him as her subordinate, though. From all accounts, he was given such a long leash that he practically worked on his own. He was more...hands on than his Queen. His trail was just as untraceable as hers, his actions just as silent. All but invisible. But he left bloodier footprints when he was done.

David can’t remember if the Rat King title predated the plague, or if it was given to him after the rats were already synonymous with death. He remembers him being referred to as ‘The Raven’ before, but that had eventually come to describe two separate witches in the group. Their coven. The Black Cardinal.

David knew of a few specific, high-ranking members that had their own appropriately avian titles, but he wouldn’t know how to identify them. No one knew where they were based. David imagines them gathering in the rooftops of all the abandoned buildings in Dunwall, of looking up and seeing nothing but black coats and beaked masks perched in the rafters, their beady red eyes bearing down on everyone below.

He reaches out and runs his hand over the Crow Queen’s picture. If only he had known. If only he had known that she would set her eyes on Sabrina one day. That her Rat King had the power to...to force David to stand there, and make him watch like that. He’d have emptied the city coffers to pay the bounty on her head then. Would have hunted her down himself. If he had known she would become Billie’s killer.

‘They did it for Dunwall.’ Billie’s whispers are soft like the wind at his back.

David’s tongue sticks to the top of his mouth. “Dunwall has gone to the Void without you.”

She says nothing to that. David looks down to the bottom of the poster, but he already knew all the information listed there. Both their bounties had tripled in the last eight months, though. Odd. Delilah would know they were the Empress’s true killers, but she had a vested interest in selling the idea that David had killed Billie. She should be removing their bounties to keep them from talking. Unless that was her intention, to shut them up for good. Lydia had said the Crow Queen had been inactive lately, though he supposes the Rat King could have always done something to garner the higher bounty.

Peering the the side, David spots one more poster. For a reward of fifteen-thousand coin, the same as the Crow Queen and the Rat King, the body of the supposed ‘Dunwall Butcher’.

David leans in to get a closer look. The rendition was unhelpful at best, with no identifying features or anything that could be somewhat distinctive. Just a slight, smudged figure in a coat and boots, like most of Dunwall wore in this age of industrialization. A drawn hood. Their estimated height and build is listed off to the side. The killer is taller than David. He scoffs. Figures.

“Hey! Hey you, this area’s supposed to be clear!”

David freezes. Footsteps behind him, and quickly gaining. Only sounded like two of them, but still. They would recognize David the moment he turned his head.

He has no time to think about it. He turns, and sprints.

The two guards jump back in surprise at both seeing the Protector-turned-traitor there, and seeing him make a mad dash straight towards them. David takes the opportunity. He slides, kicks one guard’s feet out from under him. The guard gasps, the breath momentarily knocked out of him as he lies on his back. David shoves his sword into his chest to knock it out permanently.

He’s still getting to his feet, and the other guard is staring at him, slack-jawed. But the moment passes, and the guard closes his mouth, pulls his gun from his hip.

It’s not even something he thinks about. David just holds up two fingers, points to a spot off to the side.

Joan appears in a flash of smoke. She shoots off one bolt on her own wristbow and it catches the guard neatly in the shoulder, sending him over the railing and into the water.

She holds up her blade to her face. “Bitchin.”

David nods grimly as she sheathes her sword and Catspaws back over to him. “Dude, how’d you do that? I just felt, like, this pull to you.”

“Don’t know,” he says, gruffly. He stares at the map of the Legal District again. Fuck, he’s wasted precious minutes standing here, thinking. Minutes that brought them closer to General Turnbull’s arrival, when he’ll spirit Anthony away and hide him somewhere David will never find. And he still has no fucking clue where he’s going.

Joan is still chirping away in the background. “I mean, good. You can call on me whenever your ass needs saving.” She comes up behind him. “There’s a wall of light about a block from here, but I found an easy way over. You find out how to get to Timsh’s place yet?”

“I’m trying. ” David rubs his eyes, trying not to lose patience with her, but then the solution hits him like a barrel of bricks. He can just take the map with him. Duh.

He snatches the map from the board, folding it up and ignoring the torn edges where the tacks had been. He shoves it into his breast pocket without explanation and turns back to Lizzy. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Great. Before we fuck off, I need to tell you something.” She grabs his arm, and David resists the impulse to elbow her in the face. “There’s a guy who wants to meet with us.”

“Who the fuck even knows we’re here?” David snatches his arm away.

Joan shrugs. “I just had a chat with a wild Hatter. Mentioned we had business at Timsh’s, and he said a guy would be wanting to talk to us.”

“We don’t have time to waste, Lizzy.”

“Okay, well, he also told me that the access point is locked up tight.” That makes David stop. Joan crosses her arms. “Yeah, Watch fucks managed to lock themselves out of the Legal District proper. Real force to be reckoned with, there. They know a way to get us through, though.”

David sighs and pushes a hand through his hair. “Fine, fine. Whatever gets us there faster.” He goes to turn away again, but Joan Blinks in front of him. He can’t help but swat at her in annoyance. “Do you mind not doing that?”

Joan reaches up to grab his chin. “We’re gonna have to cover you up. These guys aren’t going to be so jazzed to see the guy who killed their Empress.” With that, she stalks off. David rounds on her.

“I didn’t kill her .”

“Yeah, I know that,” Joan says, digging through a Watch checkpoint. “But these are ‘shoot first, ask questions never’ kind of guys. They’re blaming you for the situation with the Regent, how fucked the plague has us. Doesn’t help that a lot of them had the hots for Her Majesty.”

David rubs his nose. He really could have gone without hearing that. “Okay, fine. Give me your mask.”

Joan pokes her head back out. “Bitch, you’re the one who didn’t want the mask!”

“You just said I couldn’t show my face!” David hisses. “They already know you! I’ll give it right back!”

“Sooo, yeah, here’s the thing.” Joan returns with a handkerchief in hand. “So these guys know who I am. But they don’t know who I am.”

David raises an eyebrow.

Donning a fancy new handkerchief around his mouth and nose, David aims his Blink over the wall of light. Joan tried to push a scarf on him to wrap around his head, but he declined. It felt too Zhukov-like, and he never thought he’d be using that term to describe clothing styles. It had been awhile since his hair was short like this anyway, and he’s been noticing some greying at the roots. His eyes shouldn’t be too recognizable. It was fine. It would be fine.

Holding his breath, David Blinks to the roof over the wall of light. And overshoots.

He falls.

David curses to himself as he falls forward, one hand on the ground to steady himself. Fuck, he felt that in his teeth. And now his calf hurts.

A guard turns his head at the noise, and only has an instant to startle back before David Blinks to him and slits his throat.

Well, stealth didn’t work. David hauls the corpse over his shoulder as Joan appears. She stifles most of her chuckle, at least. “Come on. We’re headed to Treaver’s Close. You’ll know it by three white-washed skulls.”

David grunts under the weight of the guard. “Like, real skulls?”

“I don’t fucking know, I’m just repeating what I was told.”

They duck down an alley. David tenses up when he hears voices, but Joan just straightens up and runs towards them.

“You can all die happy now; the Queen has returned.” Joan announces. David trails in behind her, meekly shoving off the body into a pile of weeds. Joan stops short and points behind her. “And I brought another one, too.”

“Very funny.” David remembers then that he needs to be disguising his voice. A lot of people knew his raspy-ass tone. Fortunately, the Hatters don’t seem to be paying much attention.

“Nice to finally meet you, Eliza.” One of the Hatters Catspaws forward. They smack their hands together, pull each other in and slap a hand on each other’s shoulders.

There is indeed a mural of three skulls drawn across the brick wall at the back of the alley. A few Hatters sit on the roof above it, dangling their legs over the edge and raising their pistols in greeting. A chair sits in front of the mural, and on it, a man in a mask rises.

“So this is her, then?” he asks, approaching the two. His clothes are far too fancy for their current company.

The Hatter next to Joan nods. “Yep, this is old Hat’s daughter. She’ll pull us back from the brink, mark my words.”

“Oh, fuck off. I got better shit to do than babysit you pussies.”

David takes the moment to step up, clear his throat. “We’re busy with some of that shit right now ,” he says, making his voice so low it hurts.

The masked man waves his hand. “Oh, I heard. Arnold Timsh. Half the city wants him dead. You have the opportunity to make yourself a lot of gold today.” He leans forward then, holds up his hand like he’s telling them a secret. “We can strike up a similar deal right now.”

“I’m not interested in coin.” David says plainly. The masked man just laughs.

“Well, that’s good, because I have none of that left! Timsh took it all. No, I’m giving you a new way to ‘take care’ of Timsh.”

“I already have a way of taking care of him,” David growls. He pulls out his sword. “And her name is Billie.”

“You named your sword after the Empress?” One of the Hatters says. “Aw, how cute. Yeah, I was in love with her too. Fuck David, am I right?”

David just shakes his head. “Whatever you’re offering, I’m not interested, and we’re short on time. Let’s go, Eliza. ”

“You’ll hear me out if you ever want to make it past the blockade!”

At that, David stops in his tracks. He grits his teeth, exchanges glares with Lizzy. Then he turns back around.

The man’s mask has the face of a skull, carved in intricate patterns not unlike the fake skulls used for decoration during the deathday festivals down in Serkonos. It might have once been white, and David can tell that the markings are supposed to be colored. But a layer of grime turns it all to shades of gray. David can practically see the smug look under it all as the man puffs up.

“Arnold Timsh,” and he’s already gearing up for a monologue. “Had my wife sent to the Flooded District, seized all our assets and our home. Now I am a ruined man. And I want revenge, to do him what he did to me.” He stalks forward, closer to David. “I want him homeless, a victim of one of his own eviction documents. I’ve prepared one, complete with the forged signature of the Lady Regent. He’s not married, unfortunately, so I can’t take his one love away like he did mine.” He sniffs, crosses his arms. “A pity.”

“Yeah, because nothing says justice like someone getting murdered because they opened their legs for the wrong person.” Joan snatches the paper from the man’s hands.

The masked man just fluffs his collar. “The whole plot and the means to carry it out are at my old apartment, in the buildings to the right of the Timsh estate, though I doubt you can get in from the streets anymore. Timsh and I used to be on...neighborly terms, but with the plague, people are all too eager to shoot their best friend if it means getting a leg up. I had payment ready for the person who originally took the job, so you’re welcome to help yourself to that.”

“Thought you didn’t have a coin to your name,” Joan scoffs, scanning over the document.”

“I don’t. I deal in bone now.”

David’s head snaps back up. “We’ll give it some thought.” Later. Once Anthony is safe and he can afford to dawdle on this bullshit. “Now tell us how to get over the blockade.”

“Oh, you’ll need to find the key for that.” The man turns and flounces away. Or tries to, as David quickly seizes the back of his collar and levels his sword with his nose. “Oh, calamity! I know where it is, don’t worry!” He waves his hands in a manner not unlike flopping fish out of water. David releases him, but continues to glare. “It’s just-right past here, through that window up there.” He points to the rooftop above the skull mural, built into the side of another building. “The Friar, the key is somewhere in there. Then you just go up Pudding and you can stroll right through the barricade.”

“What he’s not telling you,” one of the Hatters jumps down from the roof. “Is that we abandoned that hideout for a ‘raisin. Milly and the boys, they’re weeping. Not because they’re sad or nothing, I mean in the plague sense.”

“Fuck.” Joan pulls up her mask just enough to spit on the ground. “I guess we’ll just be getting on that. Can’t promise your boys won’t end up as collateral.”

The Hatter just shakes his head. “No, kill ‘em. If ya can.” He looks away, his eyes shiny for just a brief moment before he turns back. “Better than just leavin’ em to suffer, you know what I mean? We just...we couldn’t do it ourselves.”

“Just make it fast,” another pipes up, then slides his toe in the dirt. “Please. Don’t make ‘em hurt any more.”

Joan straightens up. “Yeah. I’ll do my best.” She says, unusually somber.

David holds up a hand and pretends not to notice how the masked man flinches. “Wait. You said you and Timsh were neighbors before-did you or anyone else ever see a boy in there?”

“A boy?” The man cocks his head. “Like a child?”

“A teenage boy.” David clarifies. “Not related to him.”

The masked man appears to think for a moment. “Well, there was that one red-headed girl...but no, no boys. I didn’t think Timsh was into that kind of thing.”

He better not fucking be, or David’s going to part him with a few other things before his life. “Can you think of any place he would keep someone against their will?”

The man just shrugs. “The basement, perhaps? That place always gave me a strange vibe.”

“Oh, another thing!” One of the Hatters calls to Lizzy, who’s already scaling the rooftop. “You can’t go that way. We kind of booby-trapped it.”

“Fucking Hatters, and their fucking...fuck!” Joan rants as they Blink from rooftop to rooftop. The loudspeakers crackle to life, as if mocking her.

“Any citizens belonging to or offering aid to the criminal organization known as Hatters will be met with lethal force.”

“Fuck your goddamn order!” Joan yells. David Blinks behind her and pulls her back from the edge of the roof.

“Can you calm your tits for a second?” David hisses, pulling his handkerchief down. Joan just shoots him what he supposes is supposed to be a glare, but the effect is lost through the mask. She does seem to deflate, at least.

“I just...fuck, there are reasons I don’t deal with them.” She adjusts her coat. “Bunch of babies, running around blind without a leader to wipe their asses for them.”

David turns away, crouches to take stock of the streets. They’re swarming with Watch, but there’s plenty of low rooftops. He and Joan should be able reach the blockade without the Watch even knowing they were there, provided they stay above their heads.

Joan plops down next to him. “So. Billie, huh?”

“You can fuck right off.”

“I’m not making fun of you. Fuck, I named my pistol Annabelle.” She takes out her cleaver and examines the edge. “Wonder what I should name this bad boy? Maybe after one of the girls back at base. We’ll see whose pants I get into first.”

“We’re wasting time,” David grunts, pushing himself up. “We need to make our way down Lackrow Boulevard. I’ll take the left side, you take the right. Make sure the way is clear. I’ll meet you at the Hatter outpost.”

Joan grumbles, but she Blinks away without complaint.

David Blinks across rooftops, examining the officers below. They were making their base out of what looked like a bar, and David Blinks to a balcony above the entrance. Fortunately, the bar was out of eyesight of the blockade, and there was a giant building between them and where the outpost supposedly was. With any luck, they could stay quiet and avoid having to take on the brunt of the Watch.

Expelling a long breath, David turns into the room the balcony is linked to, intent on leaving by the window on the other side.

And he’s immediately greeted by a Watch Officer’s belly.

The guard has just rounded the corner, not even paying attention to where he’s going. He hasn’t even seen David yet. But David is startled, his sword already in hand, and it’s too simple, too quick to shove in the cavern between his ribs. The guard’s eyes go wide, and he looks down at the sword in his stomach with an expression of absolute confusion before his knees give out.

David curses as he catches the man, hauls him up on his shoulder. Stupid, stupid. He should have used his Void Gaze to clear the room before landing here. The guard could have spotted David first, attacked or summoned more guards. David could have avoided-

No. He wasn’t going down that route. The man’s dead, and there’s no point in wondering if he didn’t have to be. David can’t waste time trying to avoid casualties.

He drops the guard’s body in a sideroom, closes the door. Hopefully no one would have reason to come up here until after David has left the district.

David goes to exit out the window, but his eyes are drawn to a poster at its left. He glances out the door, listens carefully for footsteps, but he returns to the image of Billie’s face, printed in black and white.

She’s not the only image on the page, he notices. His own face graces the top, accompanied by a bounty of 30,000 coin. It goes on to describe his murder of the Empress. Billie’s picture is only there to paint her as his victim.

She’s wearing that dumb fan collar. David remembers how much she hated the thing, how she felt like a turtle ducking into its shell. How much it itched. Her hair was also longer when this was drawn, her curls combed out and hidden in an upwards twist. David’s hair is longer too, but it hangs from his face, matted and greasy. His mouth grimacing, and his eyes empty. His skin also appears to be more tanned, though David might not have the best reference. His skin is paler than ever now from his months in Coldridge. He looks back to Billie’s picture. It might just be because of the greyscale, but they made her far lighter than she was in life.

There’s the sound of a cracking bottle, and a group of men laugh somewhere downstairs. David turns away from the poster. What the hell is he doing? He’s running out of time. He needs to focus on Anthony , who he can actually save. Sabrina is beyond his help now. No amount of moping will bring her back.

A stack of posters lay on the table, ready for distribution and David’s always been a stickler for self-punishment. He folds one up and sticks it in his coat.

David brings the Talisman out as he Blinks down the boulevard. He needs to hear her. “Talk to me, Billie.”

‘There was a story once. A sailor, caught forever in a fog. She sails blindly in it throughout all the seas. I am that sailor.’

She had always wanted to be a sailor. Maybe she’s dreaming of it.

Joan greets him at the entrance of the hideout, hiding in the rafters above the courtyard. “Think there’s five in there,” she grunts, pointing towards the building. “Way up Pudding is clear, so once we get the key we should be in the clear until we hit the plaza.”

“Good.” David takes a swig from his waterskin. “How do you want to do this? Probably best to avoid, you know. Touching them.”

“Doesn’t your Mark protect against that sort of thing?” Joan points.

David shakes his head. “Maybe. But I’d rather not take the chance. Do you?”

“Good point.” Joan hauls herself up. “That fence right there looks like it’ll go down with a few swings. If we break that, the weepers might just haul themselves out. Let the Watch do our dirty work.”

‘We promised their friends we’d make it fast. And we’d just be trading out one enemy for another.” David purses his lips. “We’re killing time. Figure something out, Lizzy.”

She fiddles with her wristbow. “Well, weepers will come to investigate noise, so…” She shoots a bolt into the door. “We’ll just get them nice and clustered together...”

There’s groaning from further into the house, and the sound of feet on the floorboards. Joan shoots another bolt to get their attention.

The first weeper stumbles out the back door. There’s blood on his shirt, torn at the sleeves and frayed at the bottom. His skin grey and hanging off his bones. Blood staining his cheek. And the smell. Nothing could prepare David for the smell. Like rotting flesh and fresh blood, garbage and feces. It’s overpowering.

David pulls the handkerchief back over his face on instinct. Joan keeps firing her bolts, herding the rest of the weepers into the alleyway. They’ve all lost their hats. Joan was wrong: there’s six of them. There’s one female Hatter in the mix, and her reddish-brown hair is matted to the back of her head. David doesn’t know if it’s blood or something else.

“What do you think?” Joan whispers. “If our aim’s good, we can get bolts in their skulls before they know what’s happening. Or we can use something with some splash damage.”

“Let’s just get it over with,” David says between gritted teeth. “You got a grenade? Might be messy, but it’ll only hurt for a second.”

There’s the sound of Joan rifling through her coat. “I got a molotov. Everything in this damn city is coated in oil. Should go up like tinder.”

She readies the cocktail, and David watches the group mill around, aimlessly. He knows the plague chews on the part of the brain that handles reason, that these people don’t even understand why they wandered out here. They focused on the noise, the only thing that got through their addled senses. And they’ve likely already forgotten why they came out here in the first place. Now they just shuffle around because they can’t remember how to do anything else. Starving, groaning, bleeding. Suffering.

The girl turns her head up to look at them. Cloudly, discolored eyes, just like ones David saw under that man’s mask. Bloody streaks down her cheeks. She’s wearing a purple blouse underneath her suspenders. And David is suddenly struck by a vision of Thalia Timsh, her lavish outfit streaked with dirt and blood, her face gaunt and her bones sticking out. Her eyes bloody and weeping.

‘It doesn’t have to be like this. We both know it.’

Joan throws the cocktail. The courtyard erupts into bright orange flames. David feels the heat on his face from twenty feet in the air. Dancing figures scatter in all directions, but they collapse mere feet away. There’s the sound of choking, of crackling flames, and though their voices only continued working for a half-second, their screams still fill their air.

He jumps down before the last of the fire dies out. Joan lands beside him. “Well, it wouldn’t be the end I’d prefer, but at least it was fast,” she says.

David doesn’t say anything. He just pushes the door open with his foot and continues on his search.

There’s one already dead Hatter in one of the bedrooms upstairs, and it’s next to him that David finds the key. It’s not obvious how the Hatter died-flies were starting to swarm the body, but even at this stage David can tell that he wasn’t a weeper. No wounds either. Maybe starvation. He pockets the key and turns back to the stairs.

Joan is waiting for him at the bottom. “I should double back, let them know their friends are out of their misery.”

“I’m not stopping you.” David grunts. He hoists himself over the fence and continues on his way. Joan does the same and runs to keep up with him.

“Keep the door unlocked, will you? I’ll find you at the plaza, and we can make our plan from there.”

David nods. “That guy in the mask, he has the plague. Should let them know.”

Joan cocks her head like she’s about to retort, but David’s head snaps to the side before she can get anything out.

Without explanation, he’s off. The hum is at his ear, and once he’s heard it he can’t unhear it. Void Gaze shows him the way, where the bone is pulsing, throbbing, singing out for him.

“Aw, fuck, you’re doing that creepy thing with your eyes again!” Joan complains, but he barely hears her. The bone is close. It’s down below his feet, down by the water.

David makes a break for the end of the road, looking out over the river. He doesn’t stop when he reaches the fence. His feet barely touch the rungs as he climbs up, jumps over. Then he falls.

The water is cold, but David pays it no mind. He pulls himself out and shoves his way into the little workshop set up by the dockside.

Joan appears while he’s rooting around. “Okay, what the fuck?!” She Catspaws towards him with her arms outstretched. “What are you, suicidal? We’ll get your boy back, don’t worry!”

He ignores her. David tears through the shelving at the back, until his hands finally close around it and his head is blessedly silent.

“It’s fine. This is what I was getting.” David holds the rune up. Joan takes off her mask and stares at it for a long minute, and David thinks she might be putting it all together. The magic, the bones, the Mark. How it all worked. How David needed these runes. Maybe she would hear their call too. Maybe she would understand.

But Lizzy’s face just dissolves into something dark, and she gives David a dirty look before putting her mask back on. “Anthony is waiting for us.”

And with that, she’s gone.

David makes his way up Pudding. He can see the blockade, but he can also see the little checkpoint set up, the guards that have wandered over since he last checked the area. He Blinks to a lamppost above them. Two guards near the barricade itself, one inside the checkpoint, bent over a logbook or something. They were well out of the way enough that the other guards shouldn’t notice their deaths, unless their patrols brought them over.

He Blinks to the top of the checkpoint and carefully pulls the top grate open, silently thankful that the checkpoints were new enough that they didn’t squeak. He hooks his knees over the edge and falls back.

Being upside-down like this brings up memories of Coldridge, of hanging by his ankles while all the blood rushed to his head. He remembers it getting harder to breathe, his eyes hurting, his legs going numb. All to get him to say he killed Billie. But he had stayed silent then, so he can choke it down now. He needs to get to Anthony . And to do that, he needs to get rid of this guy.

The guard hasn’t noticed his presence. David lines his wristbow up with the man’s temple and pulls him back by the hair. One flick of the wrist and his bolt enters the man’s skull at a deadly speed. The man flops forward, onto his logbook. David returns the half-extended bolt into his wristbow with a click .

He Blinks back to the lamppost. The shorter of the two guards turns to the other. “Sir?”

“What is it?”

“I just want to say...congratulations on getting your own squad.”

Leaping into the air, David fires a bolt at the taller guard. He lands on the other and seizes the back of his head. David slams it to the ground once before he shoves his sword through the man’s neck.

“By the Outsider!”

David curses. The other guard was hit, but it wasn’t deadly. Not immediately, at least. Red blooms out from his chest, his eyes wide as he tries to sit up. David had barely missed his heart. He Blinks over to the guard and takes care not to miss it again when he thrusts his sword down.

That was taken care of. David leaves the bodies where they fell. Hopefully no one would stumble upon them. He was running out of time.

David hits the rooftops again as soon as he’s past the barricade. He can see a wall of light up ahead, so he’s more than happy to avoid the streets. No guards around, he can’t tell if that’s a good sign or not. It makes life easier for him now, but there might be reasons for the light guard presence over here. And David doesn’t want to think about what that might imply.

He sees it as soon as he turns the corner. Arnold Timsh’s massive mansion, dominating the plaza.

Every inch of him screams for him to move. To run, to disregard the guards and burst through those doors. To strike down anyone who gets in his way. And for a moment, it plays out. Dodging bullets, returning fire with his own bolts. Watching as each one finds their mark in an officer’s skull. Putting his sword through the hearts of Timsh’s lawyers. Cutting down maids who didn’t step aside fast enough. Then, and only then, would he find Anthony , and he would kneel before his new Emperor trailing a river of blood as wide as the Wrenhaven behind him.

It’s only the most disciplined part of himself that drags him back and reminds him of his promise to Lizzy.

There’s no blood on his boots. None on his gloves. If there’s any on his coat, he wouldn’t be able to tell. The vision was just that, a vision. But it was real enough that David still feels the creak in his knees, his pants getting wet as he knelt for Anthony in blood.

‘There’s an equipment stash on the roof nearby.’ Sabrina sounds quite bored. ‘You’re not the only one with a grudge. Just the first to finish the job.’

Works well enough for him. David Blinks to the roof and spots the tray. Darts, mines, elixir. A key. David pockets everything he has room for, then sets aside the rest for Lizzy. Then he crouches at the edge. And waits.

Anthony is somewhere in that mansion. He’s so, so close. Soon David will see him again, be able to touch him and hear his voice. He won’t have to be afraid of Timsh and his men anymore, won’t have to sit and wonder why David has ignored him all these months. He would be safe. And David will never, ever let anything happen to him ever again.

David watches the plaza. There’s a few guards milling about, but judging by their demeanor and posture, they haven’t heard anything about murders from the waterfront. Turnbull hasn’t shown up yet. There was still time. David waits and mentally yells at Joan to hurry up.

She appears behind the billboard. “Hatter fucks gave us some coin, in case you wanted to know.”

“Keep it,” David says without taking his eyes off the mansion. He motions to the tray with his head. “There’s some equipment, if you need to top up.”

“Sweetness.”

There’s the sound of rummaging, and Joan plops down next to him. “So. Timsh is in there, huh?”

‘He’s in the bedroom with his maid. Top floor.’ Billie’s voice is thick with disgust. ‘Don’t make me describe what’s happening.’

“Uh-huh.” David doesn’t tear his eyes away.

“So how do you want this to go down, boss?” Joan asks. “You want me to take care of Timsh while you look for your boy?”

David stands up so abruptly he might have lost his balance and fallen off the roof, if it weren’t for the quick reflexes the Mark provided. “No,” he says. “No. I’m going to do this myself.”

He looks to Lizzy, who’s still just sitting there, one leg dangling over the side. “Can you find me even when I’m not-when I don’t summon you?”

Joan shrugs. “Kind of, I guess? I can feel you, and not in the creepy sense. Like I got a David compass built into my chest.”

“Never use that phrase ever again.” David shakes his head. It was useful to know, at least. He could feel Lizzy’s presence too. Wasn’t perfect, but it meant they could find each other easily. “I’ll go in alone. Just-stay in the general area, okay? I’ll Summon you if I need you, and you come find me if General Turnbull shows up. Alright with you?”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.” Joan draws up one of her knees, drapes her arm over it and continues surveying the plaza.

“That’s not my name.”

“Just...go find Anthony .”

The streets were easy enough to avoid. The real hazard came from all of Timsh’s balconies. Guards wandering out to get some fresh air, standing at the third and fourth stories. Heights that David should be safe at.

He watches the mansion as he Blinks over the balconies of the apartments that lined the plaza. The masked man’s apartment was around here, but really, did David have any intention of sparing Timsh’s life? Delilah could easily reverse getting his arrest or eviction. No, it was better to take care of him for good. Thalia might have been happier with an alternative outcome, sparing her uncle’s life, but he didn’t really like Thalia anyway.

Timsh’s mansion backed one of the district walls, which meant there was no view. There wouldn’t be balconies or windows at the back. And that’s where David would slip in.

Passing by one apartment, David stops short as the familiar hum of bones reach his ears. His feet don’t know where to go at first. Their song draws him in, so strong, so beautiful and jarring, but David steels his shoulders. Not now, not when he’s so close. He can’t . He’d come back.

The bones continue to clamor for him, as if begging him to come back, to take them with, and asking why he was leaving them behind.

One of the mansion’s balcony doors opens, and David aims and Blinks so quickly he loses his footing. He falls, and the Outsider’s Mark crackles as he desperately tries to find another location to lock onto, to Blink to, but the magic fizzles in his hands and goes dark.

David hits the ground.

He can hear his leg bones crunch, his elbow bending in a way it is certainly not supposed to when he uses it to break his fall. There’s a burning sensation as he gasps for breath, and David only hopes it’s just the breath that got knocked out of him and not a broken rib poking his lung. He can literally see red at the edge of his vision.

There’s a guard back by the wall, near the automated doors that lift to let through rail cars from district to district, at least when there was power. The guard startles at the noise of David’s body meeting the asphalt and whirls around.

David doesn’t think. He Blinks forward and slashes the man from shoulder to hip.

Fuck, he’s hurting now. He can feel his pulse at his eyeballs, and he can’t get air into his lungs. Every breath sends a new wave of red-hot pain through his side. David wipes his forehead just in case the red is actual blood, but his hand comes away clean.

David pulls the guard off to the side and sits down next to the corpse. He opens a vial of red elixir first. It wouldn’t work miracles, but it would work hand-in-hand with his supernatural healing, help put his muscles back in the right places. At the very least, it would give him the strength to finish this before collapsing. Then he drinks a vial of blue, because while Rose’s charm did allow him to tap into the magical properties of water, it wasn’t enough.

It’s not perfect, but it gets the job done. After a minute, David stands up and hoists the body over his shoulder, drops down into the alley behind Timsh’s house.

He stashes the body in a dumpster and slips over to the back entrance. The masked man had suggested Anthony might be held in the basement, so that would be the first place he looked. David jiggles the door. Locked, but the key he swiped from the weapons cache fits perfectly. He silently thanks whatever asshole was planning on murdering Timsh before him.

The back door leads into a storeroom, connected to a tiny kitchen. David activates his Void Gaze to check for hidden rooms, secrets trapdoors that led down to a sub-basement, but there was none. Just two women going about their business in the kitchen. David turns to leave, but the voices drift out from the open doorway.

“And he’s taking the boy, right?”

David perks up. He shuffles towards the doorway, standing by the side to keep from being spotted.

Cutlery squeaks on a table. “Yeah. One less mouth to feed, at least.”

“He doesn’t seem to eat much. Have you ever seen him?”

“Honey, nobody’s seen him except the guards. Timsh keeps him locked up tighter than a virgin’s snatch on Fugue.”

Well, that was one saying David’s never heard before.

There’s the sound of pots being knocked together. “Who do you think he is?”

“Mmm, Melissa seems to think it’s his bastard son. But she’s probably just repeating what the old bag told her.” She pauses for a moment. “I think he’s a relative of the Regent. Her nephew or something. She’s probably trying to cover her own back, make sure she won’t be betrayed by her own family when she becomes Empress. So she doesn’t end up like the last one.”

“Do you think she will? Become Empress, I mean. Shouldn’t it go to the old Empress’s brother?”

“Have you seen any Emperors being crowned lately? It’s been six months. That poor kid’s dead. Eh, Parliament will probably put up a fight, but who else is going to take the throne?”

Fuck, he doesn’t care about Delilah and her stupid face. The crown wouldn’t even go to her in the event of Anthony ’s death: a fact Delilah certainly knows, or she would have just had him killed too and crowned herself. The line would go through pretty much every noble family and all their possible heirs based on their degree of relation to the Lurks through blood or marriage, and the Kaldwin family was something like thirtieth in line. David thinks the Carmines were one of the families ‘next’ on the list, but there were also about six others that were technically of equal relation, and there would be fighting if it came to choosing one to rule. The damn Crow Queen was probably higher up in the line of succession than Delilah was.

There’s the sound of running water, which swallows up the next few words, much to David’s displeasure. “-but he should be here within the hour.”

“Fine by me. Means I don’t have to send an extra tray up to the top floor twice a day.”

The top floor! There it was. Anthony was being kept somewhere on the top floor. Now all David needed to do was get himself up there.

“Anyway,” the same maid says. “I’m going out back for my smoke break. I’ll see you in ten.”

David waits for the maid to fully descend the three steps down to the storeroom before springing on her, dragging her to the side while waving his poppy tincture in her face. She crumbles in his arms. He pushes her on top of some wine barrels so the rats won’t get to her and doubles back for the other maid.

She’s standing at the stove with her back turned to David, so it’s easy enough to repeat the same process. There’s no place else to really put her besides on top of the other maid, so David just apologizes in his head and hopes they awaken with a newfound affection for each other.

David stands in the kitchen, mulling over his next move. He could just fight his way up four flights of stairs, true, but that could very well cause Timsh to panic and hold Anthony hostage. No, there had to be a better idea. He could always enter from the outside-but now that he’s in here, David notices a dumbwaiter built into the wall.

Recently built, he can tell because the paint around it doesn’t match perfectly. They were fairly new contraptions in the first place. The Tower cooks had begged Sabrina to sign off on one, eager to play with a new toy. David doesn’t remember if it ever got installed.

There was a sign next to the waiter warning people not to ride in it. Which was practically a suggestion to do so. David slides in backwards and twists the dial to the fourth floor. The dumbwaiter creaks under his weight, but it ascends. He tucks in his legs to avoid getting his pant legs caught in the machine.

There’s a ding when he reaches the top floor, and David winces as he slides out. But nobody comes to investigate, so this area must be clear, at least. David looks around with his Void Gaze.

A guard in the hallway, staring at the wall with his hands clasped behind his back. Two people in what looked like an office, talking. A woman with an apron, and a man wearing one of those obnoxious frilled collars. Probably Timsh himself.

The floor is otherwise empty. No, that can’t be right. He looks down, but all he sees is an office with a few guards milling about. Anthony has to be up here somewhere. Maybe his Gaze was just cutting off before he could find him.

David moves into the corridor. The guard stationed there paces away from him, and it’s all too easy for David to sneak up and shove his sword into the fleshy bit of his shoulder. He stows the guard away in the bathroom and goes back out the the hallway. He tries Void Gaze once more, and while he does find a room he didn’t see before, there’s no Anthony there either. No, the only thing in that room is one figure, oddly still while giving off the yellow aura that all living creatures do. David shakes his head and moves on. Not Anthony . It didn’t matter.

The only place he could think of would be beyond Timsh’s office. Timsh himself is staring into his fireplace, with his maid several feet behind him. David opens the door and Blinks to a bookshelf the moment he has a straight shot at it.

Timsh turns his head and the maid startles back. “Sir, I think your house is haunted!”

David rolls his eyes. The bookshelf itself is very low, low enough that the two could see him if they were looking anywhere near it. He Blinks to the chandelier instead.

“That’s nonsense, Melissa,” Timsh croons, his voice like grating sandpaper.

Melissa just shakes her head. “Sir, with the paintings and the woman’s voice from your studio, and the footsteps in the attic?”

The attic! David activates Void Gaze and turns it upwards. There, not five feet from his head, a person sits crossed-legged on the floor. Anthony !

“And now the doors?” Melissa continues. “There’s something going on here. You should call in the Overseers.”

“No, no, there’s no need to that.” Timsh takes a drink of something on his mantle and makes a face. “In fact you should stay with me tonight. I’ll show you there’s nothing to be afraid of here.”

Now how in the world to get up there? David can’t see a staircase or ladder with Void Gaze, so it must be on the other side of the house. Fuck, he’d have to wait for these two to finish yapping before he could leave. And something would almost certainly be locked, wouldn’t it? It always was. He’d need a key. Probably one of ones on Timsh’s belt.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. My husband will be waiting for me.”

“Oh?” Timsh walks towards his desk. It’s then David notices that enormous, tacky painting of Delilah that took up half his wall. “I forgot to mention, the carriages aren’t running tonight…”

He could just kill Timsh now. But one of his guards might come up to search for him. That’s why he wanted to wait until after Anthony was safe.

Well, that and he wanted to see first-hand how much Timsh had hurt him. So he’d know how slow to make it. Savor it.

“But I live out past the outer walls!” Melissa steps in Timsh’s direction. “That’s why I needed the carriage to take me home!”

“Oh, I knoooow, dear. That’s why I’m worried. Plague’s been moving out that way, heard of weepers on Market Street. Not a place for young women like yourself.”

Snake. Filthy, slimy little snake.

“I’ve changed my mind, sir.” The maid is stiff, her face emotionless. “I’d be glad to stay with you tonight.”

“Good, good.” Timsh croaks. He stares up into the chandelier lights, and for one heart-stopping second, David thinks he sees him. But Timsh just smiles, his beady little eyes wrinkling with glee. “I think I’ll start the evening with a bath. But I have other matters to attend to in the meantime. You’re off-duty, for now.”

‘People like him praise the law when it suits them. We should teach them what law truly is.’

“I think I need a drink.”

Timsh turns around and strolls away. As he’s opening the large double doors to the hallway, David fires off a single sleep dart into Melissa’s shoulder. She gasps and stumbles, but Timsh doesn’t even hear. David Blinks to the door, reaches out and snatches the keyring from Timsh’s belt, withdrawing his hand right as the door swings closed. He Blinks again to catch Melissa before she hits the floor.

He could put her in Timsh’s bed, but-no, he’s not going to do that. Even though she’ll wake up with all her clothes on, she’ll still probably be traumatized. David drags her into Timsh’s desk chair and lays her head on his desk. Less comfortable, but it’ll work.

It’s in the little hallway where he first entered that he spots it. Registers as something weird built into the ceiling in Void Gaze, and when he returns to normal view he can see the outline in the ceiling tiles, the chain connected to an inactive light. David pulls, and a hidden staircase comes down with it.

Huh. The steps were flimsy, unbearably short in width. There’s a trapdoor at the top that only opens downwards, so Anthony wouldn’t have been able to push the staircase down from his side and escape. Smart. Bastards.

He only prays that nobody comes back up here for a while, because he has no idea how to put these stairs back up.

There’s a single locked door up here. David kneels down and peers into the keyhole. His view is obstructed by upturned furniture, but he can see a pair of legs extending from behind the bedframe. David flips through the keys until the lock clicks, the knob turns and the door opens.

“I told you, I’m not going to Brigmore! You’ll have to kill me too!”

David stops. It’s him. He’s here.

“Anthony ,” David says, and his voice wavers as he steps into the room. “Anthony .”

There’s a stir. The legs retract, and a mop of blond hair appears above the bedframe.

“David?”

And then Anthony scrambles out from his hiding spot. Practically vaults over the sign that made up the other half of his barrier, his eyes wide and his hair sticking up in all directions. “David, it’s you!”

“Oh, Anthony . ”

David overtakes him. He crumbles the second Anthony is in reach, wrapping his arms around him and sinking to his knees. Anthony presses his face into David’s shoulder and David squeezes, his hands digging into Anthony ’s shirt. He presses his nose to the back of Anthony ’s neck and just inhales . He’s alive. He’s here.

Anthony is alive. And for a moment, David can forget that Sabrina is dead. That the city is withering from plague, that Delilah exists. For a moment, he forgets and basks in the joy of finding Anthony alive. For a moment, everything is perfect.

“How did, they told me, I-your heart! They said she took your heart out of your chest and ate it, and...” Anthony pulls away just enough to see David’s face. “you were dead, like, like...David, are you crying ?”

David shakes his head. “No,” he says, and he pulls Anthony back in for another hug so he doesn’t see David wiping his eyes. “I’m here. I’m here.”

Anthony squeezes him back, and David presses his lips into his hair, smoothes it out with his hand. Fuck, he’s dirty. Had they let him bathe?

“But you’re not…” Anthony exhales as he draws back. “You’re not dead, and that means we can escape!” He smiles, jittering in place, just as he’s always done when he’s excited. “We can go back home!”

His forearm is still wrapped, a thick splint tied to the underside. It’s been six months since Anthony was stabbed. He should have healed...more, by now.

David has to shake his head. “No, we can’t go back to the Tower yet.” Anthony looks down for a moment, crestfallen, and David touches his cheek to turn his attention back. “Listen, I have some allies with...there’s a safe place for you. I’m getting you out of here.”

“You’re coming with, right?” Anthony asks, and the question catches David off-guard.

“Of course.” David wipes his nose and pushes himself up. “Is there anything you need? Do you have shoes?” Fuck, that was a stupid question. Of course they didn’t give him shoes. “Never mind that. Just…”

“Just a second.” Anthony gets to his feet and retreats behind the upturned bed. He seems to have fashioned a makeshift barrier made from repurposed furniture, chairs flipped upside down and paintings and signs leaned up against them. David peers over the bedframe that hid Anthony ’s sleeping area from view. His mattress was on the floor, surrounded by books of all shapes and sizes. Anthony has shorn the case from his pillow and is shoving papers in, notes with scrawled handwriting. David catches something shiny as Anthony shoves it into his pillowcase.

“Do you have anything warm?” David asks. All Anthony is wearing is a wrinkled, long-sleeved shirt and stretched pants that looked like something David would work out in. He’s wearing socks, but those would be wet and useless the second they stepped outside, and his left shirt-sleeve is permanently shoved up to accommodate his splint.

And, fuck, it was freezing up here. No fireplace or stove. Anthony ’s mattress was pushed up against the chimney, which would have to be the only source of heat in the attic. How could they justify making the Emperor of the Isles live in this?

There are no windows up here either. Anthony had been taken away at the beginning of summer. The heat would have been stifling then.

Anthony ties his pillow-sack to his belt and, grinning, draps a knitted afghan over his shoulders and ties it together in the front. “Good enough, right? It’s practically a coat.”

It would work. They’d be back at the mill before nightfall-Anthony wouldn’t be in danger of freezing, at least. David just didn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

“Good enough.” David motions for Anthony to follow. “Come on. We’ll find Lizzy.”

“Who?”

“Friend of mine-you’ll like her.”

They make their way down the rickety stairs-David helps Anthony descend, though Anthony protests it. Then there’s the question of how he’s going to get Anthony out of here.

He doesn’t want Anthony to be there when he kills Timsh. He doesn’t want to have to worry about guarding him, and he especially doesn’t want Anthony to see it. He’d prefer if Anthony saw as little blood as possible today, really. He didn’t really have a problem with Anthony knowing David had killed for him-he would have to find out, eventually. But David would like to keep specifics out of it.

There was simply Blinking him down, but that wouldn’t do for one reason.

David didn’t want Anthony to know about the Mark.

He had talked about it with Lizzy, after making her promise to keep the Mark and the Bond a secret. The repercussions involved. He was branding her a heretic just by her association with him, never mind using black magic herself. And that wasn’t something he was willing to bog Anthony down with. He didn’t need to worry about David. He didn’t need to add the Abbey finding out about David’s branding to his list of concerns. He didn’t need to know about the Outsider.

No, Anthony would ascend and his rule would be clean. Unassociated with witchcraft and untainted by heresy. Even if David was found out, he would ensure Anthony would stay innocent by association. The less Anthony knew, the better.

“David?”

Anthony blinks his big blue eyes. David’s thoughts wander to the way he chose to enter.

“We’re going to do something a little weird here, Anthony .”

David goes back over to the dumbwaiter and opens the compartment. He curses when he sees that the tray is gone.

“It goes back down to the bottom floor when you’re not using it,” Anthony explains. David curses and slams it close.

He wanders out into the hallway, rubbing his face. Anthony trails behind him. “What’s your plan?”

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking.” David sighs. “Do you know of any other secret staircases or shit?”

Anthony shrugs. “I haven’t been below this floor. Well, I suppose I have, but I was unconscious.” He turns his eyes to the side room, where the strange still figure David saw earlier sat. “ Don’t go into that room.”

“Why not?”

“Lady Kaldwin.” And Anthony looks pale, ill at just the sound of her name. “I can’t explain it-it’s a statue, but it’s her. She can take over it. Talk to you.”

David has never heard about that before. He frowns and turns on Void Gaze, examining the top floor and the floor underneath, taking care not to let Anthony see.

“Even Arnold stopped going in there-David?”

David blinks. “Okay, I have a plan.” He turns around, straightens his shoulders. “Go wait by the dumbwaiter. I’ll send it up again, and you get on and ride it to the bottom. If anyone comes up, hide .”

Anthony nods, and before David can pull away, Anthony throws his arms around him.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, his face buried in David’s coat.

David gives himself ten seconds to pat Anthony ’s shoulder. To return the embrace. Then he pushes Anthony away. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Timsh is down on the third floor, in his office, and David knows that taking the stairs down will have him pass right in front of him. The whole mansion seems to have been built by a goddamn fitness instructor, all the staircases on opposite sides of the house. You had to literally do laps around the house to get up to the top floor. So going down like a normal person wouldn’t work. David opens the side balcony and swings his body over the edge.

He raises his hand to Blink, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. He’s frozen, midfall, as he concentrates on where to land. David Blinks to the balcony below, and the world returns to normal. Odd.

But it gets him to the other side of the mansion, and the stairs to the second floor are right there.

There’s a sort of indoor balcony thing that overlooks the main entryway, where a single guard stands. David creeps up behind him and grabs his shoulder. Turn him around, put a sword in his heart, and catch him before he hits the floor. David stashes him under the staircase and takes his previous spot.

Two of Timsh’s lawyers are in the entryway, bitching about how long the maids were taking bringing them wine. David thinks it might have something to do with them both being unconscious currently, but he doesn’t say that.

He glances over the rest of the lobby. The main staircase is backed by a massive, truly ugly painting of Timsh, that could have only be done by Delilah herself. David is no art snob himself, and he liked the few alternative pieces Sabrina had commissioned that weren’t really in the typical upper-crust Dunwall style. But this was too much .

A guard rounds the corner across the lobby, and David Blinks down to the one door on the main floor that doesn’t have a plaque attached to it before the guard can put together what he’s seeing. Fortunately, the door does lead th the basement.

David taps the command into the dumbwaiter and waits impatiently as it moves. He worries the dumbwaiter won’t be able to hold Anthony ’s weight-though it handled David’s just fine, and even in this state, David definitely weighed more than him. His fears are unfounded though, as the dumbwaiter descends and Anthony pops out none the worse for wear.

“Okay, that was terrifying,” he says. David reaches out to steady him as he steps down. “I’m never doing that again.”

“Probably for the best,” David says. Then he grabs Anthony ’s hand and they’re off.

David drags him through backdoor, veering left this time. They dart up the stairs and over the street, keeping low to avoid attracting the guards attention. Or at least David stays low. He tries to pull Anthony along fast enough that it doesn’t matter.

Anthony looks around when they get to a good hiding spot, nestled in between a boarded-up building and a staircase. “Are the rail cars running again?”

“No. Joan has a boat. We-I have to go take care of Timsh now.” David says quickly. “Hide here.”

“You’re leaving?!”

David rushes to shush him. “Watch the noise! I’ll be right back. Give me fifteen minutes.”

Anthony nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. He has bruises in the shape of fingers on both his wrists. Even the one still in a splint.

“Anything you want to impart to Barrister Timsh before he goes to the Void?”

That gets his attention, but he doesn’t look happy about it. Something dark flashes across Anthony ’s face. “Make him afraid.”

“Of course.” David runs a hand through Anthony ’s hair. “I’ll be right back.”

David doesn’t want Anthony to see him Blink, so he runs to the other side of the mansion. He Blinks up to the balcony where he heard the bone chimes, and ducks when he hears a door open. A guard in protector-blue strolls out onto the fourth story balcony attached to Timsh’s dining room, apparently unaware of the corpse in the bathroom not twenty feet away.

Before he really thinks about it, David aims two fingers next to the dining table and the guard is almost immediately hit with a bolt to the head, his body tumbling over the side and silently falling to the ground. Behind him, Joan waves.

David waves back and turns into the apartment. The stench of death is thick in here. David bats the flies away as he passes the bodies. Joan follows in behind him.

“Dude, how cool was that?!” she exclaims. Then she seems to notice their whereabouts. “Oh. Well, fuck.”

“Yeah. Plague swept through here.” David says emotionlessly.

‘Dunwall is being eaten alive. Does anyone believe it will be habitable again?’ Sabrina asks. Then, ‘What are you prepared to do to save us?’

He would have done anything to save her. And she would have saved many others in turn. But that’s not what happened. He can do nothing now but hold Delilah responsible for it all.

“Something fucked happened here,” Joan yells from the other room. “Some witch wrote little rhymes about these bags of bones. I don’t think I want to know.” She rounds the corner into David’s line of sight. “You find Anthony ?”

“I did.” David grits his teeth, pushes on the bookcase. “He’s hiding right now.”

“That’s good. Uh, can I ask what you’re doing there, big boy?”

The bookcase crashes to the floor. David steps through and lets his eyes be bathed in purple light.

“Holy fuck.” Joan ducks through the opening. “I usually stay away from these shrines, but you-you can actually hear Him, can’t you?”

David doesn’t answer. He walks closer, trying to avoid the urge to grab the runes. He knows he’s going to have to speak to Him. But he doesn’t want to.

Joan Blinks to his side. “I can’t help but wonder,” she says, facing the shrine. “What does He smell like?”

That makes David turn to her. “What?”

She shrugs. “I mean, the Void is kinda like the sea, right? So, does He smell like the ocean? All rainwater and brine?”

David just stares, then shakes his head. “Lizzy. That’s weird.”

Sabrina pipes up. ‘The Outsider is of the Void. He smells of the cold and moon dust, and blood on the wind.’

“How the fuck do you know that, you don’t even have a nose,” is what David wants to say, but instead he grits his teeth and hisses “No one asked you.” Then he turns back to Lizzy. “You can’t ask me dumb shit like that.”

Joan just shrugs. “Can’t blame me for being curious.” She motions to the shrine. “Well, go have a chat with your black-eyed boyfriend. I’ll just be watching.”

David gives her the finger, then turns back to the shrine. No point in putting it off now. He takes a step forward and snatches the runes from the table.

Immediately, the wood starts to hiss. The molding wallpaper disappears in chunks, and the floorboards beneath his feet pitch and waver. And the Outsider materializes in front of him.

“David,” He says, smiling without moving His lips, as He does. “You did it. Bravo. You saved your son and with him, your daughter’s Empire. Are you ready to celebrate? No?”

David only glares. If the Outsider cares about his lack of response, He doesn’t show it.

The Outsider teleports besides David, far too close for comfort. “Nobody ever saw you for the threat you were, did they? The Actor never thought you capable of holding a grudge so hard, of biding your time and striking out when he was most vulnerable. Delilah never anticipated you being a problem. You were a piece on the chessboard, something to be manipulated and eliminated when she had no more use of you. Even now, as she sleeps in Billie’s bed and wears her jewelry while imitating an accent to mock her, you don’t even register as a concern. No one’s watching you, David.”

He leans back, smiling in that way. “Except me, of course. I see everything. And right now, I see a man walking a tightrope over a sea of blood. The Empress is gone, and the water’s rising.”

Where the fuck is Lizzy? David looks around, but he can’t see her. Maybe some weird Void bullshit. Better be. The Outsider reappears by the window, staring into the deep purple that emitted from the panes. “I have to wonder, what will history saying about young Anthony ? Will they tell of how a mountain formed from the corpses of degenerates rose from the sea, and how an assassin named David carried the brother of a murdered Empress up and sat him on the throne at its peak? Will they say that a boy king took up his sister’s crown and, through cleverness and patience, saved Dunwall and pulled the Empire back from the brink it’s been so precariously perched on for decades? Or will it simply be said that little Anthony the First came to power in a time of violence and corruption, and that he did his best in a world that is not kind to Child Emperors, or Empresses?”

He turns to David then, His hands behind His back and a blank expression on His face. “I’d decide quickly, if I were you. You’re running out of rope.”

Joan is leaning over him. “You okay? You were in a daze.”

He pushes her away. “How long was I like that?”

“Only half a minute, if that.”

‘I hope it was enlightening,’ Sabrina says.

Joan crosses her arms as she watches David paw through Timsh’s desk. “And you said he’s in his downstairs office?”

“The third-floor one.”

“Fuck, how many offices does he have ?”

David shrugs. “Three, I guess.” He closes the last drawer. “The will’s not in here. We’ll have to check the others.”

“Fine with me, I’ve already nicked everything valuable from here.” Joan turns to the portrait of Delilah. “And that painting is fucking creepy.”

‘The artwork’s hopeless,’ Sabrina sniffs. A far cry from what she used to say about Delilah’s work, but he shouldn’t say it.

David frowns and steps forward. With two swipes of his blade, Delilah’s arms and head are severed from their body as he carves as X into her figure.

“You want to know something really creepy?” David turns back to the desk and shoves an audiograph card into his pocket. “There’s apparently a statue of Delilah here that she can possess. That’s what Anthony said.”

Lizzy’s head snaps towards him. “Wait. So she’s actually a witch?”

“Apparently.” There had been rumors for years. Nobody could prove anything, and Sabrina hadn’t cared, but recent events all but proved it. David’s not surprised. It all fit.

She shakes her head. “That’s crazy…” Then she perks up. “I kind of want to talk to her.”

David narrows his eyes. “Even I can tell that’s a bad idea.”

“Oh, come on. Aren’t you curious what she’ll say?”

David doesn’t say anything, and Joan pulls on his arms. “You stand out in the hallway and listen, and I’ll keep my mask on. She won’t know shit. We’ll be fucking with her so hard!”

“Anthony is waiting for us,” David spits.

“Anthony will be fine for two more minutes.”

Joan sprints into the hallway before David can protest, her feet slapping against the floorboards. He follows her just in time to see the door swing shut behind her.

David kneels down and peeks through the keyhole. There’s the statue. Delilah, hewn in white marble and covered in colorless flowers. Joan Catspaws in front of her and makes a show of standing there with her hip out and arms folded.

“I know you’re there, bitch.”

Delilah comes to life. David knows it’ll happen, but he still has to bite back a startled gasp.

“And here you are.” Her voice is just as sickly sweet as the last day he saw her. It makes his blood boil. “And just who are you, I wonder? Have you come to admire? Or to merely sate your curiosity? I understand that. I’m strange.”

“There’s a lot of words I’d use to describe you, and ‘strange’ doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“Oh, you brat.” A cloud of white dust rises from wherever Delilah moves, but she never seems to crack. She extends one smooth, white finger at Lizzy. “Are you working for David? Has he drawn you in with lies of his love for the Empress? Have you fallen for his sob story? Don’t believe anything he says.”

He hates her. He wants to run in, confront her and scream down her throat. Throw a grenade and destroy the statue. It’s the logical part of his brain that keeps him on the other side of the door, hidden, where Delilah won’t know he’s recovered and ready for her.

“David is dead,” Joan says flatly.

“Ah, good. I’ve heard snakes often go off to die on their own.” Her arm rises almost mechanically, the motion separate from the rest of her body. “My Empress will find peace in this, knowing her murderer no longer walks the world.”

David grits his teeth. He thinks of Billie, trapped in her Talisman. Could it be because Delilah was still alive? Would killing Delilah put her at rest?

“I’m not stupid, Fuckwin.” Joan points her finger. “It took more than one person to organize the Empress’s death. David didn’t act alone.”

“He didn’t? Oh, little cuckoo. You have no idea what the social politics of Dunwall Tower were like. The Empress was my love. My muse . She told me of the things he said to her, the things he did to her. His jealousy drove him to kill her. Nothing else. It was simply that if David couldn’t have her, no one could.”

David’s feet are frozen to the floor, his mouth dry. The lies had come out too fast. Too easily. Not just Delilah’s, but Lizzy’s too.

“I don’t believe you.” Joan holds up her hands. “But it doesn’t matter. I could care less about Empresses.” She draws her blade, pointing it at the statue. “I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done to Dunwall. You have a lot to answer for.”

“Do I?” Delilah cocks her head. “If you were someone else, I’d have my sisters descend on you the moment you stepped outside this mansion, but I like your spunk, little whaler. So I’m going to let you off with a warning.” She sweeps her stone hand through the air. “Stay away from me. There are great changes coming, and I expect you not to interfere.”

“I’ve never been good at doing what’s expected of me.”

“You’d be wise to do so this time. I have influences in places you won’t expect.” She turns to the side, resuming her original pose. “But as for Arnold Timsh? Do what you must. I won’t hold a grudge. I’m done with him.”

“Good thing I wasn’t asking for your approval,” Joan bites back, but the statue is just that again. A statue.

Joan slams through the door, yanking off her mask as it swings closed behind her. “Fuck, she’s such a goddamn bitch,” she huffs. She shakes out her mask, turning back to David when he doesn’t say anything back. “David?”

He just stares at her, wide-eyed, the understanding flowing through him.

Joan approaches him. “Hey, are you mad because I didn’t defend you? I just thought-she doesn’t have to know you’re alive, so if-”

“You think I killed her.” And David’s voice is quiet, emotionless.

Joan doesn’t meet his eye. And that confirms it more than anything she ever could have said. “You loved her. I know you wouldn’t-”

“You think I killed her .”

David grabs her wrist and pulls her in. He doesn’t want to hurt her so much as tear away her layers, remove the part of Joan that so clearly believed him to be a monster. Believed he would ever lay a hand on Billie. Leave him with the Joan he thought he knew.

Joan pulls her hand back. “We thought the Regent contracted you for the hit, okay?” Her voice is barely under a yell, but she reigns it in. “And then double-crossed you to cover her tracks. At least me and Edgar did, I can’t say for the others-you were literally standing over her corpse with a bloody blade, you have to know how that looked!”

“I wasn’t! And you know why?” He gets up in her face. “Because she wasn’t dead yet! Because they tore her from my goddamn arms and drowned her because she didn’t die quick enough for them!”

“Okay, okay.” Joan pushes him back. “I know that now. And I changed my mind after I met you. I know you weren’t the one to kill her now, but…” She pushes back her hair. “Fuck, David. It’s not personal. We didn’t know what to believe.”

David inhales deeply, trying to get his breathing under control. “If you thought I killed the last Empress,” he starts. “Why would you break me out to save the new Emperor?”

Joan shrugs. “We figured your relationship with the Empress was...complicated. But you would want your son on the throne, so obviously-”

“Anthony isn’t my son,” David says curtly.

“David. Seriously?”

David just huffs and turns around. Joan runs behind him, scrambling to put on her mask.

“Are we killing Timsh now?”

“ I’m killing Timsh. You’ll stay out of my fucking way if you know what’s good for you.”

And David darts off, leaving Joan in the dust.

‘Are you killing his Lordship?’ Billie’s voice is harsh, angry, dripping with poison and glass on the wind. ‘Take me with you. I’d like to watch .’

For her? Anything.

There’s blood in the air, red in his vision. And David is sure that if Joan pops up in his face again, he won’t be able to stop himself from killing her.

Five guards in Timsh’s office, and Timsh itself. David doesn’t bother planning it out. He rounds the corner and shoves his blade through the back of the first blue coat he sees, extracting his sword and shoving the body forward with his boot on its back.

Men gasp. One guard readies his gun. He takes aim, and David Pulls another guard to him and lets him take the bullet to his chest. He dodges another, sending a bolt into the foot of the guard who shot it.

David steps towards him. He takes one swing with his sword, beheading the man where he stands. Before he even swings the sword back, he shoots off one bolt into the brain of the guard closest to Timsh, Blinks to the guard that fired the first shot and gets him with the backswing.

It’s then he rounds on Timsh. The terror is written clear across his face, his back pressed up against the wall, clawing at the wallpaper.

“David?!” Timsh shakes his head, scrambling for his gun. “Here? You’re supposed to be dead! She said-”

He’s still on his hands and knees, trying desperately to cock the gun from the floor. David kicks it out of his hands. And Arnold Timsh slithers to his feet like the snake he is, backing away and screaming for help that will never come in time.

David seizes him by his stupid collar, turning them around so Timsh’s back is to his desk. He thrashes around until David gets his blade under his chin.

Timsh shakes his head, his eyes wide and pleading, and he mouths something David can’t discern.

David swipes his blade and silences it forever.

He comes to after a moment. The Barrister is pale and dead, lying on his back across his desk. Blood streaked across the papers. His head overshoots the back of the desk, so his neck lolls back and his eyes gaze emptily towards the glass balcony.

Joan is already going through the drawers.

“You back with us?” she asks, not turning around. “The will isn’t here either, but at least Timsh is dead. Hope you’re satisfied.”

‘It’s always satisfying. Killing a rich bastard like Timsh. Isn’t it?’

There’s a noise outside. Joan runs over to investigate. “Fuck,” she says. “Turn-bitch is here.”

David finds his feet enough to make his way over there, listening as Joan cracks the door open.

“I thought Timsh would at least be waiting for me!”

“I’m sure he’ll be down soon, sir. There’s been a bit of a hiccup in the plans, due to some Hatter-”

“I don’t care about the goddamn Hatters! Where’s your commanding officer?! Do you have any idea how important our task is today?!”

“Well, the will is naturally in the last fucking office we check.” Joan turns to him. “You wanna nab it real quick and get out? This is gonna go to shit real fast when the army starts finding your bodies.”

David turns away, facing the bloodied office. “In a minute.”

He approaches the desk where Timsh is laying, his dead eyes staring at everyone who passes by. Anthony ’s face flashes through his mind. His fear. His request to make Timsh feel the same way.

David digs two fingers into Arnold Timsh’s bloody slit, feeling the still-warm muscle squish under his fingertips. He runs out a few times, but bodies have so much blood, and it paints on wallpaper so well. It only takes a minute, and it will be the first thing they see when they step into the room.

THE

CROWN KILLER

IS

WATCHING.

Delilah would know fear. She would live her last days bathed in it.

Joan stares, and David doesn’t know if it’s in awe or shock until she shakes his head. “You’re real fucked up, aren’t you David? Good thing I am too.”

They split up the bottom offices, Joan taking the left as they came down the stairs, David with the right. One of Timsh’s lawyers is standing in there, smoking, and David slaps his hand over his mouth and shoves his sword through his chin.

He finds the will in a chest, along with a few other pricey items he shoves into his coat. Joan is still rifling through her room when he pokes his head in. Another lawyer lies on the floor, red blooming from his chest.

“I found it.” David holds the paper up. “Never trust anyone with handwriting this neat.”

“By that logic, doctors are the most trustworthy people of all.” Joan wipes her gloves on her pants as she stands up. “Well, I found a pack of tarot cards, so it wasn’t a complete waste.”

“Why the fuck do we need tarot cards?”

“Because we need to have something to do when we get wasted, so we don’t look like a bunch of drunks.”

David goes to lead her down to the basement, but Joan stops short. “Wait.”

“What?!” David is past trying to mask his impatience.

Joan points. “I’m going to burn that stupid fucking painting.”

“Seriously?!”

“I haven’t blown anything up all day! Let me have this, David,” she pleads. “Look, it’ll distract the army. Go wait with Anthony while I set this up.”

“You know what, fine.” David turns away with a wave of his arm. “Don’t blow your legs off. I’m not coming back for you.”

He steals out the back door and beelines for Anthony , who’s still crouched in the bushes, probably freezing his ass off.

“That was definitely more than fifteen minutes,” he says, and David playfully bats up over the head.

“Quiet, you.”

“Where’s Lizzy?”

David leans out to peer down the street. “She’s coming. We’re waiting for her signal.”

They’re not waiting long. There’s a pop and a bang, followed by smoke wafting from Timsh’s front door. The guards all converge on it. Joan jumps down next to them. “K, let’s go.”

“What did you do?!” Anthony yells. David grabs his hand.

“Explain later. Run.”

They run through the alleyway beneath the homes and the square. One guard is half on the stairs, and he takes the half step into their path, his mouth open to yell for back-up.

David strikes him down without a halt in his step. Anthony clutches his coat, but doesn’t pause.

“The dock’s blocked off,” Joan barks. “We’re going to have to backtrack down Pudding.”

“Seriously?!”

“Are we gonna argue, or are we gonna go?”

David pulls Anthony out of the alley and they dash across the street, under a bridge and past the Watch checkpoint. There’s a yell, and David looks over too late to see a Watch officer rush out of the checkpoint, aiming his gun.

“Oh, FUCK no!”

Joan is on him in a second. She swipes her cleaver across his face, but it doesn’t incapacitate him. He gets the shot off. Joan stumbles, pressing an arm to her side. Then she rises up again and separates the officer’s head from his shoulders with one fell sweep.

David turns to run towards her, but Anthony is already pulling him that way. “Lizzy! Are you okay?” He breaks free from David’s hold to sprint the last few steps.

Joan shoves him away. “I’m fine, squirt. These coats are armored like crazy.”

“Can you walk? David asks. Joan smacks his hand away.

“You don’t need to carry me, dad . I’m fine. Let’s go.”

David looks down the street. The wall of light is still up, fuck. And they can’t use Blink with Anthony here.

“Stay here,” he commands, and darts away before they can argue.

There’s no way to climb straight to the balcony where the whale oil canister is being kept, so David scales a stack of crates to the building across the street from it. There he backs up a few feet, springs to the edge and jumps off. He can hear Anthony stifle his shocked panic.

But his hands catch on the railing, and he pulls himself up. David pulls out the tank and hurries them through.

The bodies of the guards David killed at the barricade are squirming. Or, more accurately, the rats squirm as they feast on the flesh. Anthony gasps, and Joan pushes him along. “Don’t look, kid. Just don’t.”

"Be advised. A dangerous individual is currently at large in the Legal District and or Waterfront areas. If seen, inform an officer of the Watch immediately."

Fuck. They really need to get out.

Whether Joan is truly okay or not, she’s trailing behind. David doesn’t doubt her armor kept the bullet from ever touching her, but still. There was enough brunt force behind a gunshot to fuck someone up. She’d have to be looked at once they got back to base.

Her skiff was still blocks away, beyond another wall of light that they never bothered to deactivate, now that David thinks of it. Joan was wavering. She wasn’t going to last much longer on her feet, whether she liked it or not. Anthony is already out of breath. His stamina has to be shot from sitting in an attic for months. They would not make it back to their starting point. But there was a dock at the very end of Pudding.

Three guards round the corner, their guns already drawn.

David sprints ahead. He’s already pulling out his canister of choke dust, aiming for their feet. The canister bursts and the guards stop in their tracks, coughing and momentarily blinded. David converges on the first one and slashes. The guard is flayed open, falling where he stood, and David rounds on the second and thrusts the tip of his blade into his throat. The last is just beginning to recover, so David kicks his legs out from under him and stabs him through the eye when he’s down. Then he turns back. Grabs Anthony ’s hand and pulls him down to the end of the street.

“Wait down here,” David says as he peers down the chain that leads to the dock. “I’ll bring the skiff around.”

Joan just weakly nods. Anthony goes first, expertly sliding down the chain and only stumbling a bit at the end. He helps steady Joan as she comes down, and David knows she’s in a lot of pain when she doesn’t yell at him for it.

Getting back to Melusine is so much simpler, faster when he can just use Blink. David has to take a moment to learn the controls, having not paid any attention whatsoever when Joan was piloting the thing, and he hopes she doesn’t get too angry at the two dents he puts in it accidentally steering it into the wall.

Joan has her mask off by the time he comes back around, and her face is positively green. Anthony helps her step into the boat, at which point she starts shooing David away from the controls.

“Move. My boat, my rules.”

“You sure you won’t pass out at the wheel?”

Joan holds up one finger, but her reply is lost as she suddenly lurches to the side and loses her breakfast into the water.

David rolls his eyes and pats her back. “This is Lizzy, by the way.”

Anthony smiles, actually smiles. “We did our introductions while you were gone.”

Joan pushes herself back up, pushes his hand away. “Okay, okay, I’m fine now. Or I will be when I get a bottle of whiskey in me back at base.”

David sits down, and Joan steers the boat clear from the dock. Anthony stares over the water nervously. David removes his gloves and squeezes Anthony ’s fingers as they watch the Legal District disappear behind them.