The Queen's Champion

Chapter 16

“How many people can you fit on this thing, anyway?”

Vasco peers nervously over the edge, as if hagfish were gathered below the hull and licking their lips in anticipation.

Joan sets down her third cigarette of the evening. “I dunno, ten? If you don’t care about it still floating, that is.” She turns to veer the skiff towards the canal entrance. “It’s meant for two, but I’ve fit four in before. And one of them was Edgar, so that’s like an extra half a person right there.”

“But coupled with you, Catspaw, probably evened it out at two people.” David turns his body to blow his smoke out onto the water.

She laughs. “Yeah, true. I guess I’ve always had to balance out his extra rice portions.”

Joan still manages to eat almost as much as Edgar, despite being about a third of his body mass. Was like that before getting the Bond, too. It goes to her wiry muscles or it just goes through her. David can’t imagine how her mother kept her fed growing up.

It makes him a little jealous too. David’s never eaten much, but he gets pudgy right quick if he doesn’t adhere to his workout routine. He lost weight in prison, but then, he had nearly been starved to death.

He nudges Vasco with his knee. “The boat will be fine. And we’re almost there, anyway.”

“I know.” Vasco nods, peeking over his shoulder once again. “I just can’t swim very well.”

“Don’t worry, kid, I can swim fine while carting around David’s dead weight. So even if we go down, I gotchu.”

It doesn’t seem to placate Vasco much, but he shuts up about the topic.

“So when we get back to base,” David leads in, flicking his cigarette butt into the water. “You’re going to have to explain what happened. But the things you saw us do there…”

“The magic?” Vasco raises his eyebrows. “You have the Mark of the Outsider, don’t you?”

David grits his front teeth before answering. “Yes.”

Vasco’s eyes flicker between him and Joan. “Both of you? Because I’ve seen some of Kaldwin’s agents do that sort of thing, and they don’t have the Mark…”

“David’s the Marked fuck.” Joan doesn’t turn her head back. “He can give me, like, some of his powers. I dunno how it works. He did it for two of our other friends.”

“But they’re the only ones who know about it.” David leans in, practically bumping his knees against Vasco’s. “Nobody else knows I’m Marked. I don’t want anyone else to know.”

Vasco nods quickly. “Sure, sure, I can keep quiet about it. I’ll leave out some details.”

“I mean it.”

‘He is loyal only to his own heart. But...it is a good heart. One that sees the good in yours.’

What good? David’s heart is a blackened husk.

“I mean it too.” Vasco glances down at Hypatia’s sleeping form, her head tipped against his calves. “You didn’t have to save her. And you didn’t have to get me out of there. So I owe you.”

David leans back in his seat. “Well, keep it a secret and we’ll consider ourselves even.”

It’s a secret he’s willing to kill to keep. But there’s no point in scaring the kid now. Sabrina tells him, in her own weird way, that Vasco is trustworthy. And he believes her over everything.

“So who all are your allies?” Vasco asks as they duck under the gate that leads into the canal. “You mentioned Emperor Anthony being there? So he is alive, after all?”

David’s heart does a little skip in excitement as he hears Anthony’s new title being used, but he maintains his straight face. “Yeah, we rescued him a few weeks ago. Didn’t you know Delilah was holding him?”

“I mean, I figured that much, but she never told us.” Vasco shakes his head. “But, yeah, about a month ago she started ramping up the search. Even Hypatia couldn’t find him, and she can smell out anything when she’s, you know. Like that.” He toes her unconscious form. “The best I could figure was that whoever she had entrusted to hold him had accidentally killed him and was trying to cover it up, to be frank.”

Wouldn’t that be a shitstorm.

“Nah, we murdered old Timsh is his house,” Joan snorts. “He was just your regular brand of incompetence though , not that stupid.”

“Thalia, the Timsh heiress, is part of this,” David tells him. “And Lady Boyle.”

“Which one?”

“Lydia.”

Vasco makes a face. “I thought she ran away with some seamstress? That’s the gossip I overheard, at least.”

Joan bursts out laughing. “Well, I’m sure she’d love to, but no. She’s teaching kids and generally being weird as f**k. She’s the only noblewoman to date I like.” She pumps a lever. “Besides the Empress. Didn’t meet her, but from everything I’ve heard, she was a cool motherfucker.”

“Don’t think you’d know any other names,” David derails. “Besides her uncle, that is.”

“Yeah, she’s mentioned her uncle. But she said her entire family died of the plague?”

He supposes Hypatia has reason to believe that. It’s all true apart from her uncle, and the Dressmaker had virtually dropped off the face of the planet after moving in here. Delilah could have very well lied to her as well.

He almost doesn’t recognize the dock right away, considering this is the first time they’ve returned from a mission during the night. Well, he supposes it was dark by the time they got back from Slaughterhouse Row. But David was actively dying at that time.

Now he bends and scoops up their current unconscious occupant and ignores how his back muscles protest at it. The pain has been easy enough to ignore thus far. Adrenaline and physical work, it’s kept his mind off it. His back is healing, at least. But this has been the most physically taxing night he’s had since the explosion. He has a feeling he’s either going to need to get off his feet or start in with another round of painkillers very soon.

No one’s waiting for them outside the mill, which is good. Though the night just got a lot safer, he thinks, with the Butcher in his arms.

“Glad we turned the water back on,” Joan says as she moors the boat. “Would have been nice when I had to park it and hike half a mile upriver with your ass slung over my shoulder.”

“Why would you have to do that?” Vasco blinks at them innocently. “Could he not walk?”

“He got hurt on our last mission, kid. Real bad. Burns up the ass and his back is completely f****d up. Thought he was gonna leave us for a spell there.”

“I almost did,” David mumbles under his breath.

“Oh! Well, I know I’m not a real doctor yet, but maybe I could be of some help? You don’t want to put back injuries on the back burner.”

David didn’t understand that phrase for an embarrassingly long time. It wasn’t until he moved to Dunwall Tower and saw their fancy, state-of-the-art cooking stoves that he realized that stoves did indeed have more than one burner. Most he used didn’t even have a cooking range.

“That’s real sweet of you, kid, but we already had…” Joan snaps her fingers. “Yeah, no, actually. You’re probably way smarter than Trimble.”

“Trimble?” Vasco’s voice goes up. “You mean William Trimble?”

“How the hell do you know him?” David asks, curling his lip. He’s not sure when Trimble left the Academy, but it’s probably been a few years. Vasco’s only eighteen-he can’t have been a student for very long.

But Vasco shakes his head. “Well, I don’t know him, just of him. His duel with Piero is legendary.”

“Trimble got himself involved in a duel?” Joan makes no effort to hide her laughter. “Holy f**k, you have got to tell me this story sometime.”

“It’s more ridiculous than anything else.”

“Which is why I need to know! Anyway, David, you should take your shirt off for him sometime.”

“Joan…” he groans.

He lets Joan press the intercom and give the password, shifting Hypatia in his arms. She hasn’t so much as stirred since the...since he knocked her out. David considered tying her up, but she’s completely limp, the only movement coming from the rise and fall of her chest. She’s fully out. Will be until tomorrow.

Jerome opens the door, eyes sweeping over the group and colored in confusion as they settle on Vasco.

“We had to bring him along,” David says, as Jerome steps to the side and allows them entry. “Delilah would have killed him.”

“I can help out wherever you need me.” Vasco looks at the ground as he passes the threshold. “And I don’t eat much.”

Footsteps echo across the plaza as Jerome locks up behind them. David turns to see the Dressmaker barreling towards them, Paul following close behind.

“Alex?! Alex, are you…” He blinks as he looks around, and David sees the moment he realizes who the lump in his arms is. His eyes widen, and his feet still. Mouth open with unsaid questions.

“She’s alive.” No change. “We just had to knock her out.”

“But she’s alright?” The Dressmaker opens his arms to accept her, and it’s then that his expression breaks. “Oh, Alex, thank the Void.”

David has to help him sit as he refuses to put Hypatia down, and though the Dressmaker is relatively strong for a man of his age, Hypatia nearly mirrors him in height and undoubtedly has at least fifty pounds in pure muscle mass on him.

“What the hell happened?” Galia comes up on them, hands on her hips. Edgar, he sees, is snoring away in the corner, and Reed is trying to shake awake both Anthony and Rose, fallen asleep on a bench with their backs up against each other. “You took forever. And you guys look like shit.”

“Thanks, Gails. I always feel appreciated when you’re around.”

“Hey, you’re back.” Anthony stretches out with a yawn. Rose narrowly avoids getting an elbow to the face and looks extraordinary pissed off about it.

Paul is still standing in the middle of the plaza, looking rather confused. “So...I take it this is Vasco?”

“Indeed!” Vasco brightens up.

“What the f**k?” Rose has apparently fully woken up now, and is staring at Vasco with repugnance. “Is your face okay?”

His face looked bad enough in the dying evening light and the dim oil lamps at Sokolov’s old safehouse, but the mall is lit by bright floodlights that put Vasco’s bruising in high definition. There’s little swelling in his eye, but the bruise covers roughly a third of his face. Mottled purple and black, faded to green in some areas. Too large to be from a single strike.  

Anthony is the one who sweeps over, hand hovering at the side of Vasco’s cheekbone. “Did Delilah do this to you?”

And David has to make a fist and physically hold himself back from wondering why Anthony jumped immediately to that conclusion.

“Um. No.” Vasco looks sheepishly in Hypatia’s direction. “She did.”

A scandalized noise emits deep from the Dressmaker’s throat.

“How dare you!” The Dressmaker pulls Hypatia in, glaring at Vasco with venom. “You’re a lying little wretch is what you are! Alex wouldn’t harm a bloodfly!”

“I mean, you’re correct, sir, but-”

“There’s more to it than that.” David puts his hand up to quiet Vasco before he does more damage. “We have some things to tell you. And you’re not going to like any of it.”

The Dressmaker looks up at him, fearful, blinking his eyes rapidly while holding Hypatia all the tighter.

Then Reed’s dumb tophat bounces around in his periphery, and David turns to see the kid looking at Hypatia with a tilt in his head.

“She smells like dead people.”

“She was working on…” The Dressmaker’s lips form words, but nothing comes out, and he just shakes his head and looks back to his niece.

Anthony steps up behind Reed and gently pulls him back. “So what happened with her?” he asks, turning to David. “What happened to you? You look-”

“I’m fine.” David waves him away.

“He probably killed a bunch of people,” Reed remarks boredly.

Joan steps away from Jerome long enough to yell over to them. “Hey, we didn’t kill anyone tonight! Give us some credit!”

Yeah. No one died. Not even the people who deserved to.

“No one?” Anthony raises an eyebrow at him, then pokes him in the side. “So this is what, decorative blood?”

David hides the wince that comes with Anthony aggravating the knife wound the Crow Queen opened on his side. “That’s my blood,” he grits.

“It’s your-”

“Anthony, shouldn’t you be in bed or something?”

Anthony looks to the floor, then turns his head when he realizes Rose isn’t next to him. Indeed, she’s still hovering near the bench she’d been sleeping on. Stiff and staring at Hypatia with apprehension.

“I had a dream last night,” Reed continues, his face a strange mixture of animation and complete detachment. “We were all trying to paddle Joan’s boat down the Wrenhaven but the river was filled with blood. Every time we tried to dock the shore would turn into rats. You were there-” He points to Galia, who just stares at him with a perturbed expression. “But we had to throw you overboard so we didn’t sink. And then Paul turned into a flying gecko and flew away with David.”

“There are geckos that can fly?” Paul snaps his fingers. “That’s awesome.”

Galia smacks him over the head. “Don’t encourage him!”

“Reed, maybe you should start drinking the tea I showed you how to make before you go to sleep,” the Dressmaker says tiredly. “It’ll help with the nightmares.”

Reed just shrugs.

“So what did happen here?” Galia points to the patch of slightly darker red on his coat.

Anthony crosses his arms. “You should go wake Trimble.”

He should. It probably needs stitches. “I’ll be fine until morning.”

That wasn’t a lie, technically. He would be fine. And by morning, he’ll have healed enough that there would be no point in visiting Trimble.

“Did you run into much trouble with Delilah’s forces?” Galia wraps her arms around her midsection, dwarfed in her large coat.

“A…” He considers. “Bit. Getting Alexandria to...come along, that was the hard part.”

“Did she kill someone?” Reed asks bluntly. “There’s blood on her fingers.”

The Dressmaker gasps and picks up on of Hypatia’s limp hands, and David seizes Reed by the shoulder and turns him away with a little more force than necessary. “Okay. It’s time for bed for you.”

Reed twists out of his grip. “My sister said I could stay up!”

“Listen to David, Reed.” Rose just looks blank. David’s eyes swing to Anthony, standing next to her.

“It’s the middle of the night, why is he still awake?” He waves them off. “All three of you. Bed. Now.”

Reed turns his chin up and scrunches his nose. “I want to listen to your story!”

“And I’m saying no.”

“But I don’t want-”

“Well that’s too bad, because you’re the child and I’m the adult, so sometimes I have to choose for you!”

“Ooh.” Anthony grimaces. “The ‘I have to pick for the both of us’ line. Been a while since I heard that one.” He holds out his hand, waggling his fingers in Reed’s direction. “Come on, Reed, let’s take you back to the mill.”

Reed stomps his foot. “You’re not my brother!” He whirls on David, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest. “You are not the boss of me!”

“No, I am.” Rose seizes his arm and pulls, hard. “And I told you to go to bed,” she says through gritted teeth. “So you’re going to get your ass up there without any more whining and go the f**k to sleep, because you’re going to be apologizing to a lot of people tomorrow.”

Reed pulls his arm away and shoots his sister a venomous glare. “Mother wouldn’t make me!”

“Mother never made you do anything because she didn’t care about you! She probably doesn’t remember you exist!”

“I hate you!” Reed pushes her, hard. “I wish Heather had caught you instead of Joshua!”

He runs off as Anthony kneels to help Rose back up.

“Um…” Joan leans forward to glance down the hall. “Can we get him, like, a chill pill? Or maybe a therapist?”

“He’s just being a kid. He’ll get over it.” David presses his lips together as he watches the door slam. Reed’s eleven. All eleven-year-olds are little bitches. Even Anthony had been considerably difficult during those years, and while he didn’t technically meet Sabrina until she was twelve, she was a little s**t then and he can only imagine she had been every bit the brat she was a few months prior.

Still. This aggression is uncharacteristic of Reed. And David feels responsible for setting that example.

“I’m so sorry.” Rose says it to both him and the Dressmaker, but she keeps her eyes from wandering near Hypatia’s form. “I don’t know what his deal is lately.”

“It’s alright. He’s probably just tired.” David motions her away. “Go get some rest. You can stay in the attic if you want. I’m probably not going to get to bed before dawn.” He catches her look of confusion and clears his throat. “The door locks.”

It elicits a smile: a small one, but genuine. “Thanks, David.”

“We’ll talk more when you get up.” Anthony pins him to the floor with his look. It’s not a question. David rolls his eyes and ruffles Anthony’s hair.

“Yeah. I’ll give you all the details.” And he almost wants to lean in and hug Anthony good night, but there’s too many people around. Too many eyes. “Now go the f**k to bed.”

Anthony nods, then he turns and takes Rose by the hand. “Come on, let’s go have a slumber party.”

They watch the two leave, and are quiet until the door swings shut behind them.

“Did…” Galia turns her head. “Did Edgar really sleep through all that?”

Joan frowns and, without hesitation, marches over and stares down at Edgar’s snoozing form, slouched in his seat and his neck bent backwards to rest against the wall. Then she pinches his nose shut with one and and uses the other to cover his mouth.

As expected, Edgar wakes quickly, waving his arms and nearly falling out of his seat. “What the f**k? Catspaw!”

“We’re back, loser. And you missed David’s ‘Ultra-Parenting Mode’ activate.”

“You’re just gonna let them sleep together, David?” Jerome motions, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you worried?”

“They’re both gay and Rose is already pregnant, what the f**k would I be worried for?”

“Anyway.” Joan turns and walks back towards the group. “We really should get started, uh...we need to restrain her.” She motions towards Hypatia. “Preferably soon.”

Vasco quickly checks his watch. “Well, we have roughly about fourteen hours before the tranquilizer wears off, but we do need to figure it out because she is quite hard to contain.”

“How?!” The Dressmaker leans away from her. “What the hell did you give her?! Why does my niece need restraining?!”

“We told you,” David tells him, shoulders square and hands in his pocket. “You’re not going to like this.”

When he’s finished, everyone is silent for several long beats. Galia and Paul exchange strange glances with each other. Edger looks beyond confused.

The Dressmaker just sits there, Hypatia’s head in his lap and softly running his fingers through her hair.

Vasco shifts awkwardly as he sits back down. “I’m really sorry you had to find out this way-actually, I’m sorry there’s a reason to tell you at all-”

“Please don’t talk,” the Dressmaker says softly. “I believe you and I’m not angry. I just...need a moment to absorb this.”

“What in the world was in this original serum?” Galia asks with her mouth still gaping open. To her side, Edgar raises his hand.

“Or, maybe she’s a werewolf!” he says excitedly. “Maybe the medicine thing is just a coincidence!”

Joan smacks the back of his head so hard his hat tumbles into his lap. “f**k off, Edgar, this is serious.”

“You know, I actually have considered lycanthropy.” Vasco taps a finger at his lip. “I know relatively little about it-werecats are more talked about in Serkonos, where I’m from, and I never believed in any of it before. Until I saw all this. But it wasn’t like I had much literature on the subject available to me, so I wasn’t able to research the condition in an academic setting.”

The phrase ‘research lycanthropy in an academic setting’ would normally be humorous to him, but David finds himself agreeing. He never thought true witches existed-his mother had been one, technically, but she dealt in bonecharms and poisons. If she utilized any real magic, he never saw it. But Delilah and her coven are classic witches, something straight out of a children’s story. He practices magic, and Sabrina is a goddamn ghost. Who is he to say that werewolves can’t exist?

...Werewolves have always terrified him. He used to have nightmares about turning into one. If he finds out now that they’re real, he will never sleep again.

“Well, we can worry about the technical terms later. You know, when we’re not in danger of her ripping our faces off.” Galia rubs her temples.

“As much as I hate to say it, Gails is right.” Galia gives Joan a dirty look, who continues talking as if nothing’s amiss. “Vasco’s little neutralizer will wear off around noon, and I say this as someone who’s been on the end of her claws. You do not want to be on her bad side when she’s like that.”

“Well, she might not be ‘Grim Alex’ when she awakens,” Vasco says, still stroking his hairless chin. “Of course, she might be too. She’s awakened both ways.”

Jerome sighs and gets to his feet. “So we’ll need to secure her somewhere, then. Buddy, I know you had your heart set on her staying with you…”

“It’s fine,” the Dressmaker says quietly, never tearing his eyes from Hypatia’s slumbering face. “Vasco can have the bed I made up for her.”

“So where’s the best place to park her, then?” Jerome’s eyes scan over the crowd. “We got a few options.”

Joan juts her hand into the air. “I nominate Trimble’s place! Plenty of rooms he’s not using, and if she escapes she’ll eat him first. No loss there.”

“Take this seriously, Joan,” David chides, then turns back to the group. “Not in the mill itself. She’s a risk and the Emperor must be protected. Not to mention the rest of the kids who sleep there.”

“That’s fine, because I was going to suggest the mall anyway.” Jerome shrugs. “We’re only using three of these shops and they all have the big metal storm doors.”

Vasco raises his hand. “What are the walls made of?”

Jerome blinks. “The...walls.”

“Yes. You see, there’s a reason Sokolov’s safehouse was selected as our prison. Hypatia is extraordinary hard to contain. Given time, she can claw through plaster. But the metal exterior of the safehouse proved impenetrable.”

It clearly wasn’t to anyone with half a brain, David thinks.

“So you’re saying…” Jerome holds up his hands, blinking and staring at Vasco with a very tired sort of incredulity. “...that walls won’t stops her. Walls. She’ll just break through them.”

“Well…yes.”

“We could just keep her tied up,” Galia remarks, looking over to Hypatia’s unconscious form.

“She’s stronger than ropes.”

“Chains, then.”

“To what? She can tear anchoring hooks out of the wall.”

“Where the f**k are we gonna find shackles for that anyway?” Joan raises an eyebrow. “Unless someone here is into the really freaky shit.”

Galia throws her hands into the air. “I’m just trying to help!”

“We’re going to need to keep her secure for several months. We’re not going to leave her tied up for that long,” David says tiredly. He was kept chained up in Coldridge, and if he thinks on it too long he can still feel the weight of the shackles on his wrists and ankles, cold and dirty and always just loose enough that wiggling out of them seemed possible but he never could. He usually wasn’t restrained tightly enough to restrict his movement, at least. That was a torture in and of itself. Not that David really had to energy to scratch and move and push his hair back from his face, but nothing physically impeded it.

Then he looks around, scanning the faces. “Where did Paul go?”

Everyone’s heads pivot, like David is just bullshitting them.

“f*****g hell, where could he have run off to?” Joan grumbles. “Everyone’s asleep.”

David waves his hand. “Just leave him for now. Can’t have gotten into too much trouble in here.”

“So what I’m getting is,” Jerome leads in, still dead-eyed staring at Vasco. “We need a room, but she’ll tunnel her way out of anything we put her in.”

“Unless it’s metal.”

“What about brick?” Galia leans over and knocks on one of the walls.

Jerome shakes his head. “The exterior walls are all brick, but the interior ones are drywall.”

“Drywall’s easy to punch through,” David says.

Vasco just continues nodding to himself, eyes trained on the tiling of the floor. “Yes, brick might hold her. But that’s a big might, and if she broke through an exterior wall she’d be free to roam all of Dunwall. Even Lady Kaldwin knew that wouldn’t be wise.”

“You know, the engine room has that metal grating on the floor!” Edgar says excitedly. “And on the ceiling! The walls are brick, but it’s all underground!”

“Except you locked us out of the damn engine room, Wakehole. Remember that?”

“Oh, yeah…” Edgar’s shoulders slump.

A door slams. “I’m ba-a-ack!” Paul throws open his arms as he comes around the corner. “What’d I miss?”

“Where have you been?!” Joan stands up with a fury. “David was worried sick about you!”

“I really wasn’t.”

“Calm your balls, guys. I just went out for a smoke.” He plops down in between David and Jerome, and David takes one whiff before leaning away. He doesn’t know what Paul was smoking, but it wasn’t a cigarette.

“Long-ass smoke break.”

“I needed one after that. So.” Paul crosses his legs, leans forward with his elbows braced against his thighs. “Fill me in.”

They settle on a cage.

Though, as this is a shopping mall and not some sort of kennel, there are no cages available for use. They’ll have to build one.

Jerome draws up the plans quickly as the rest of the group breaks off, scouts out the mall for suitable prisons. The Dressmaker continues to sit there, cradling Hypatia’s body. David sneaks to the back where Jerome keeps a hidden morphine stash for him.

“I’m sorry, man.”

Jerome doesn’t look up from his work, and neither does the Dressmaker when he responds.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

David ducks down under the counter.

“I didn’t know Fleet was gonna take your letter. So I’m sorry for that, at least.” Scratching at his paper. “f**k, I really thought we were finally going to have a happy reunion for once. This entire group’s just been f****d five ways to Fugue. Thalia with her grandma, Paul with his best friend, the Copper kids with their ma and brother…”

“David found Anthony,” the Dressmaker points out.

“Yeah, but his little girl is still…” Jerome scoffs. “It just sucks, that’s all. Shitty luck.”

“One day this will all be behind us.” The Dressmaker blows out a shaky breath. “That Vasco boy will be able to cure Alex. We’ll put an Emperor on the throne and the plague will be over with, and you’ll be able to send for your brother.”

“I know.” Jerome smiles, laughs a bit. “Just hope our aunt hasn’t turned him out on his ass.”

Morphine pills in hand, David creeps out from behind the counter.

“You said he can perform basic tasks, yes?”

“Yeah, but he gets distracted real easy. Can’t really pull his weight.”

David Blinks away as silently as he entered and catches up with the rest of the crew, makes up some lie about having to piss when Joan asks him about it.

The plans for the cage are simple enough-fifteen foot square, ten feet tall, all welded shut so Hypatia can’t manipulate the locks. They could pass s**t through the bars, and they’d have to cut her out once they had a cure or it came time to move her. Simple, crude, but it would work.

As for material, there’s plenty of steel platforms and railings around the district that no one’s using. Jerome has a welder in the back of his shop, for some reason, despite not knowing how to use it. Paul apparently knows how to weld, while Jerome claims to have read a book about it once and ‘understands the theory’.

Joan and Galia volunteer for material collection and shoo Edgar away when he offers to come. He mopes next to David as they wait for the girls to bring back the scrap metal, him being banished to assembly due to nobody wanting him to f**k up his back even further. David mostly ignores him and chats with Vasco until Paul fires up the welder and yells like he’s riding into battle.

And David backs away until his heels hit the wall, he sees the metal spark and turn red and glow and it sizzles against his flesh and the witches laugh-

And Jerome gently takes him by the shoulders, Paul pushing up his helmet in concern, and Vasco suggests he goes to help the girls.

He catches up to them quickly, on the rooftops as he suspected. Blink making this job remarkably simple. Galia gives him an odd look when he joins them, but David makes a comment about making sure they don’t kill each other and Joan tells her to shut up.

The work is easy but physically taxing. David sets his mind to unwinding the screws, focuses on the burn in his muscles as he picks up each load. If the boys find their speed odd, they don’t comment on it.

They work in silence, for the most part. David breaks it as they survey the canal, searching for the last bits of scrap they’ll need.

“Can you get into the archives?” David keeps his face straight and set on the ground, but he still sees Galia blink at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Like, the Royal Archives?”

“No, just the city ones. Or the national. It doesn’t matter.”

“I mean, I can’t, but I know people who can.”

“I need a forensics file.” His fingers itch for a cigarette, but not now. Not yet. “Anything related to the murder of Catriona Kaldwin.”

“Who?” Joan’s voice comes from the other side of the rooftop.

“Delilah’s sister,” Galia tells her, then turns back to David with a funny face. “That happened, like, ten years ago though, wasn’t it? And didn’t they catch the guy?”

“It’s relevant. Trust me.”

“Why?” Galia continues peering at him curiously. “Do you think Delilah arranged that too?”

“I’m sure she did, but I have questions about how.” He’s actually not carrying any cigarettes. Damn Anthony, stealing his weapons and then his cigs. He’ll have to tell David sooner or later where he hid his back-ups, and then he’ll find his smokes. “I need the reports, autopsy results, everything. The whole murder book, if you can get it.”

Galia nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I can get my hands on that. Give me a few days.”

They finish right as the sun begins to peak over the rooftops. The floor and one side of the cage made from the grates that made up the various walkways and platforms across the city, the other sides and the top hewn from the railings, metal beams welded in sideways and longways. All bolted into the floor.

Edgar mentions Old Hat had an arc pylon and goes to dig it out of storage. He and Joan quiet David and the Dressmaker’s protests, saying that he bought it back when Sabrina was still alive. When her laws regarding the use of lethal technology were still enforced. The arc pylon physically couldn’t put out enough of a shock to kill. Then David questions whether it would even be effective against Hypatia, as she didn’t seem to respond to pain, but Vasco gives them all an impromptu lesson and explains that the pylons work by overloading the nerves and muscles and some other bullshit. Even if she’s not rendered completely unconscious, she’ll still be dazed. Give them time to deal with her. They put up a privacy screen near the cage and set up the pylon behind it, attaching the whale oil tank and the wiring panel to the wall next to the entrance. David locks both and pockets the key.

They give her a straw mat to sleep on, just something to keep out the chill in the metal. Joan has to point out the need for a chamberpot, and Jerome has the decency to look embarrassed when she reminds him that ladies can’t piss into bottles. Not easily, at least.

It’s all assembled, aside from the last panel. David approaches the Dressmaker and drops to his knees.

“It’s time. We have to put her in now.”

“Already?” He blinks, eyes scanning Hypatia’s new living conditions. “Is there-shouldn’t we give her a blanket or something? It gets cold.”

“I didn’t think we should give her something to, you know…” Jerome closes his hand around his throat, and looks away with a shadow to his face when the Dressmaker just stares at him. “Hang herself with.”

“You think she’d-”

“She’s not in her right mind, sir,” Vasco says in a soothing voice. “This is for her own good.”

“I understand.” The Dressmaker nods, but he makes no move. Instead he just looks back down, continues rocking and combing Hypatia’s hair with his fingers. “I know you probably think I’m crazy. I know the way I’ve been acting is mad. She’s a grown woman. I know.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” David whispers.

The Dressmaker shakes his head. “I lived with my sister when her children were young. She never took much time from work when she gave birth, so I cared for them. I was the one who got up in the middle of the night with them. Slept in the nursery so I could hear when they cried.” He smiles down at her sadly. “So tiny then. When you hold a little baby in your arms, you don’t think about this kind of future. You don’t imagine a world where they’re dead and you’re still alive. You’re not meant to see their beginning, and their end. You’re not meant to see them die. It goes against the natural order of things.”

David stays quiet. He holds up a hand at whoever steps up behind him. The Dressmaker doesn’t even seem to notice them.

“I would have given my life to save my nephews,” the Dressmaker says in a low voice. “But it doesn’t work like that. Should. But nothing works the way it should be.” He shakes his head, his eyes shiny. “I thought you were safe, Alex, but now I’m finding out you’ve just been living another nightmare. And I can’t bear it for you. All I can do is help you wake up from it yourself.”

Then the Dressmaker gets to his feet and marches forward.

Hypatia is a boneless weight as he places her on the mat, her neck lolling and her hair splaying against the surface, straight with static. The Dressmaker bends and kisses her temple. Then he backs out.

Joan awkwardly pats his back as they watch Paul and Jerome seal it up, tugging on the bars experimentally. David just stands and watches with him. There’s nothing he can do or say to make this any better.

“David and Joan should go get some rest,” Jerome finally says, shucking his gloves. “We all got some napping in while we were waiting, but you two haven’t slept since yesterday.”

“Probably send the kid off to bed too,” Galia says with a yawn.

“I’m fine. I can wait until Hypatia wakes up.”

But Vasco is dead on his feet. Probably hasn’t had a good night’s rest in months, and the excitement of the last twelve hours can’t be helping.

The Dressmaker shoves his hands into his pockets, never tearing his gaze from Alexandria. “I’m not going to be able to sleep now. I’ll stay with her. You guys can take my bed.”

They pull Vasco away and show him the cot meant for Hypatia. David threatens Joan with bodily harm if she doesn’t take the Dressmaker’s bed, because he knows his manners.

Vasco is asleep almost instantly. David plops down on the couch and stares at the ground, wondering if he should take his boots off. Joan vaults herself over the back and sprawls out over the remaining space, shoving her bare feet into his lap.

“Hey.”

David grimaces. “Is there a reason your dirty-ass feet are in my face?”

“f**k you, they’re clean as a whistle. I wore those boots you got me all night.”

“Did you want a medal?” David rolls his eyes. Joan crosses her ankles. “How come your toes are only webbed on one foot? Your other one’s fine.”

Joan shrugs. “Just born that way, baby. Ma used to call it my duck foot.”

“Huh. That’s kinda cute.”

“Nah, just weird. So.” She shifts, sits up straighter. “You didn’t mention running into Crow Lady and her man slave. How come?”

David pokes her pinky toe. It’s webbed together with her fourth, but only at the base. Her index and middle toes are joined up to the knuckle. He wonders if it hurts. Maybe that’s why Joan prefers not to wear shoes.

“David.”

“Your feet are f*****g freezing,” he grumbles, sweeping them off his lap and shifting them under his thighs, both to warm them up and to get them away from his nose.

“f**k your foot fetish. I’m serious, David.”

He stares at the wall, committing the pattern of the flaking paint to memory.

“Did you want to keep it a secret or something? I will if you want me to, but I think our allies should know. They tried to kidnap you. Like, twice. I mean, they’d probably give you back once they realized how annoying you are, but…”

“They weren’t trying to kidnap me.”

Joan c***s her head. “No, they were trying to kidnap us both this time. They put a sleep dart in me too. So now it’s my business now.”

She’s right. They tried to knock her out, held her hostage in order to get him to stand down. He hates them for that. His hate for them is a boiling lake, rivaled in depth only by his hate for Delilah, and bringing Joan into it has only launched his hatred to new levels he’d previously thought impossible.

David stares her down. “I wouldn’t have let them hurt you.”

“Look, I got your back and I know you got mine, but don’t f*****g get a protector complex with me.” Joan rolls her eyes. “I can handle my own.”

“I know you can.” Sabrina could too. “But that’s my job.”

Her feet dig into the underside of his thighs as she shifts.

“I know.” She breathes out, eyes far away for a moment, then snap back to him. “So if they weren’t trying to spirit us away to their evil bird’s nest of doom, what were they trying to do? You believe they really were there just to talk?”

“No,” David growls. “I don’t believe a word that came out of that witch’s mouth.”

“Then what-”

“I don’t know why they were there, Catspaw. I don’t care.”

Joan pinches her lips up in displeasure, but she looks off to the side instead of responding in turn.

Sure, David wonders why they tried to kill Hypatia, who put a hit out on her. He wonders how the hell they keep getting information on him. He wonders about that little girl, about the circumstances that led to them working for Delilah.

He does not wonder why they’re interested in him now. He doesn’t wonder why they’ve avoided killing him or informing Delilah of his survival. The reasons they made the choices they did don’t matter. He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care why they killed Sabrina.

All David knows is that they will die for those choices.

“You can tell the others if you want,” David says, staring at his boots. “But don’t...let me break it to Anthony.”

“But you will tell him about it, right?” Joan raises her eyebrows, leaning forward. “It was his sister. And you’re his-he deserves to know, is all I’m saying.”

“I know. But it’s a conversation we need to have alone.” He exhales through his nose, closing his eyes. “I lost my s**t in there.”

“Yeah, you did. I think anyone would.”

“I put both you and Vasco in danger.” He rubs his eyelids. “I’m as bad as you are with apologies, but I shouldn’t have acted like that. You shouldn’t have had to see me like that.”

“Oh, f**k, quit it with the noble bullshit already. You haven’t done s**t to be sorry for. I lost it at them too.”

“Still,” he mumbles.

“Anyone would have lost it at them. They killed your…” Joan mumbles, leans back a bit, and breathes out. “Are you ready to, like, talk about her now? The Empress?”

“I don’t talk about Sabrina with anyone but Anthony.”

“Well, maybe you should? Like, I fully get wanting the f***s who killed her dead, but you just f*****g stare at her picture whenever you see it. I was joking when I told Vasco that you have no facial expressions, but you seriously just look blank when you’re not around Anthony.” She shakes her head. “I’m no Trimble, but your head’s f****d, man. I get that it hurts, but you’re just picking at the wound.”

“I’m not unloading all my bullshit onto you, Catspaw.”

“Fine, fine.” She extracts her feet and sits up. “When you swallow your pride, I have a bottle of whiskey set aside with our names on it. I won’t even remember what you blathered about the morning after.”

“This isn’t a pride thing, and I don’t drink.”

“Well, you should do that too.” She picks up a folded afghan from a nearby chair and chucks it at him. “I’d say you’re welcome to come cuddle in Dress-dude’s bed, but you’ll probably turn down that gesture of goodwill as well. So don’t freeze your d**k off out here. Night.”

Footsteps outside the door. Heavy, clacking metal, voices calling out to each other.

David backs against the wall and holds Sabrina tighter.

Footsteps or his own traitorous heart? He can’t tell. They’ll hear from outside. They’ll hear and they’ll storm in and no lock will keep them out.

Sabrina squirms in his arms.

“David!” she hisses. “Let me go!”

“Quiet!”

She attempts to kick him in the knees, but he doesn’t falter. Her little fingers at his forearm, wrapped tightly around her waist. He wraps his other arm around her midsection and pins her elbows to her side.

A bang. Not loud enough to be a gunshot, but sure sounded like one. Would they shoot her? They want her alive. They want a doll to dress up and put words in her mouth. A pretty corpse whose death will stand for anything they want it to. Perfect.

“David! Put me down!”

She twists, but David only holds her tighter. Digs his nose into her hair and watches the sliver of light that seeps through the crack of the door through the filter of her flyaway curls.

He won’t let them touch her. She’s too little, too young to protect herself, not from something of this magnitude, so David has to do it. He has to stand in front of her, take the blows meant for her and show her how to do it for herself when he’s gone.

They won’t let him. If they find her, they’ll take her away and won’t let David near her. She’ll be vulnerable and confused and people will take advantage of that and she shouldn’t have to live like that in the first place. They’ll put her in pretty dresses and wire her mouth shut so they can speak out of it like a puppet. She won’t understand what’s happening. David is the only one who can see them for the vultures they are. He’s the only one who can protect her.

Sabrina thrashes harder. “David, that hurts!”

“Be still! They’ll hear you!”

“No! Let me go!”

But David just grips her tighter, and Sabrina whimpers. He can feel her bones crunch under his arms, but it doesn’t deter him. They can’t hear her when she yells, but they will if her feet touch the ground, he knows. If she breaks free of him, they’ll find her and grab her and they’ll be able to do anything to her then.

David holds his hand over Sabrina’s mouth. It comes away red with her blood. She yells and demands- commands him.

“Let me go, I am the Empress!”

Yes, and Empresses are just pieces on the chessboard. Meant to be played and used and sacrificed to win the game. Empresses can sometimes die.

Out of his control. Out of his protection. He can’t. He just can’t.

“If you go with them,” he hisses into her ear. “You’ll be signing your own death warrant!”

Sabrina shudders and beats her fists against his arm all the more furiously.

Outside their hiding spot, the Spymaster’s agents run back and forth. Yelling to each other. They’ll snatch her away and tear her away from David and they might just kill him for trying to keep their princess from them but he doesn’t care.

“David!” There’s tears in her voice, gasps of pain as he presses her into his chest and crushes her lungs. “David, stop, you’re hurting me! Let me go!”

He can’t.

“David, please, I can’t breathe!”

He can’t.

She thrashes. She cries tears of blood . David only holds her tighter.

“Let me go, David, please that hurts you’re hurting me let me go David just let me go.

David wakes up to something hitting him in the face. He grabs for it-a spool of thread. Green. In front of him, Vasco stands with a palmful of colored spools.

“Afternoon,” he says with a smile.

David grimaces and sits up. Six more spools clatter to the floor.

“Yeah, I’ll put those back now…”

Vasco gathers up the threads and trudges back to wherever the f**k he got them from in the first place while David brings his hands up to rub his temples. “What time is it?”

“About half past noon. Joan’s in the bathroom.”

“Has Hypatia woken up yet?”

“Most likely. I haven’t heard anything from the shop-which can be good news or bad, depending on how you look at it.”

Joan Catspaws out of the bathroom with her eyes half closed, and David wonders why the majority of them were sharing one bathroom in the mill when every one of these stores had their own. “You good, Catspaw?”

“Dropped my pants and it looked like a goddamn murder scene,” she grumbles, opening her eyes. “Like the universe is rewarding me with all the blood I didn’t spill last night.”

David has to stifle a smile at that. “Sorry. Can’t relate.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t rub it in. You gotta piss before we visit Doctor Strange?”

“If you’re having trouble with symptoms,” Vasco pipes up from the other side of the room. “I can make some fennel tea later, Joan.”

“You’re one of those people who just has to be helpful, aren’t you?” Joan rolls her eyes, then turns to David and points in Vasco’s direction. “I like this kid. We’re keeping the kid.”

“We don’t really have a choice.”

“You know, I’m usually not a big tea person, but that would actually be really nice,” Joan says as Vasco returns to them. “But I’ve never heard of fennel helping with cramps.”

“Oh, my mother swears by it.”

Vasco and Joan discuss moon teas as they trudge over to the store designated as Hypatia’s holding cell. It’s quiet, which David takes as a good sign.

A good sign that dissipates the moment they lift up the door.

“I smell blood! Familiar blood! My weaseling little assistant!”

So Grim Alex is awake, then.

Vasco freezes up for a moment, only until Joan gives his shoulder a pat and David pulls the door down behind them. He nods, balling his fingers into fists and steps forward.

There’s a clang, and Alex is clinging to the side of the cage like a tree frog as they round the partition. Snarling, gasping. Inhuman.

“Alex, it’s me!” The Dressmaker yells from his place on the other side of the cage. “Uncle Eugene! Don’t you recognize me?”

“His name is Eugene?” Joan whispers to Jerome, who’s standing there with his arms crossed. He only shrugs. “You’ve known him for how long and you don’t even know his name?”

“He went by the title even before we met. It was on his mailbox!”

Thank the Void, David can only think, he can finally stop calling him the Dressmaker.

“I mean, it fits,” Joan mumbles. “He look like a Eugene.”

“Like a complete nerd.”

“Yup.”

“You’ve really done yourself in now, dear Vasco.” Alex stares him down with a grin, but her eyes are wild. Angry. “Dug your own grave. When I get out, I’m going to tear open your chest and dine on your still-beating heart.”

“Wow.” Joan nods. “Edgy.”

Alex throws herself against the side of the cage. It dings with an echo, but doesn’t budge. The walls are holding true. Which is good, considering David will likely have to kill her if she escapes now. Without another tranquilizer and another place to put her, they couldn’t hope to hold her.

The Dressmaker- Eugene wrings his hands. “Please, Alex-”

“Hypatia isn’t here, you fool!” she screams, whirling on him. “I put her to sleep as I please, and she wakes when I allow it. And you?” She cackles. “I will never allow her near you! You’ll never see her again!”

“Fascinating.”

It’s then that David notices Trimble. Most of the furniture in the store has been cleared out, looted for necessities in the weeks prior or dumped unceremoniously out in the hall to clear the room for this. Trimble occupies a single chair shoved up against the wall, one of the only pieces of furniture left in the room. He hunches forward and scribbles in his dumb little book.

“So, in your mind, the identity of Alexandria Hypatia is more than just a mask you wear to blend in with society. She’s her own persona, separate from yours.”

“Alexandria is her own person!” Eugene cries. He motions to Alex in the cage without looking her way. “This is...some sort of growth. A sickness of the mind.”

“Oh? And how can you be so sure that she’s the remnants of your lovely niece and not myself? Hmm?”

“Fascinating, fascinating.” More scribbling, Trimble nodding along to himself. Next to him, Paul gives the stink-eye.

“Dude.”

“Don’t refer to me in that crude manner, Pablo.”

Paul raises his hands and looks to David with a face that expresses both confusion and incredible annoyance.

“Where’s Edgar and Galia?” David inches closer to him, keeping his eye on Alex all the while. Paul seems more than happy to step away from Trimble.

“They’re giving the deets to the rest of the assholes who weren’t here last night.”

“So...Thalia?”

“And Lydia.” Paul nods, still thinking. “And maybe Zhukov’s back. I don’t actually know.”

“I’m going to shove that book of yours down your throat,” Alex growls. “No bars can hold me. When I break free of this prison, I am going to tear you all open!”

“This isn’t like you.” Eugene shakes his head. “You’ve always been so quiet. So gentle. Alex, I know you’re in there-”

“I am Alex!”

“No!” He backs away. “You’re...you’re some sort of possession! Some spirit from the Void Delilah summoned to possess my niece!”

“I am you niece.” Alex stands off, staring at him with her eyes aglow. “I’ve been here. I’ve been watching through the eyes of my sister, tied together since our birth. I was there when she bit the heads off her dolls as a girl. I was there when she stabbed her brother’s hand with a fork for stealing off her plate, and I was there when she punched a schoolboy for looking up her skirt! I’ve always been here. You all just chose to ignore me!”

‘A dark place in her mind has overgrown,’ Sabrina whispers as Alex pounds her fists on the bars. ‘In that jungle, no empathy exists. No doubt. Only the most basic, primal instinct.’

Eugene’s eyes are wide and shiny, but he doesn’t blink. “You’re lying. I don’t believe you. She’s in there somewhere.”

“She is. In a prison, much like this one. Buried deep.” She laughs coldly. “But when I get my hands on you, I’ll dig her up and let her watch. She’ll see through our shared eyes while I take you apart, dig my hands into your lungs and rut against your red skull!”

“What the fuck.” Joan blinks. “Seriously, what the f**k? I’ve heard of eating fetishes, but this? Oh my f**k, Trimble, stop writing this down!”

“It’s cannibalism, Elizabeth.” Trimble’s pen doesn’t so much as pause. “It’s not a fetish if she doesn’t gain any s****l pleasure from it.”

“Oh, I do.” On cue, Alex snakes her hand in between her legs with a smile.

Joan waves her hand. “Okay, stop. Stop! We’re not doing this!”

David sees Jerome step over to Eugene, backed against the wall with his fingers curled against the plaster. f**k it, Joan can deal with Alex. David follows, taking Eugene’s other arm and leading him out. Vasco follows soon after.

“It can’t be true.” Eugene holds his head in his hands as Jerome gently pushes him into a seat. “That isn’t her. It can’t be.”

“I’m really sorry, man.” Jerome claps a hand on his shoulder.

Eugene shakes his head. “She did do that, though. Bit the heads off her dolls. She was always chewing and biting strange things. We all just thought it was a teething thing…”

“I mean, it might be.” Jerome shrugs, looking to David. “Don’t all little girls go through a ‘torment my dolls’ phase?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Sabrina never liked dolls.

“And I remember her getting in trouble for beating up a boy,” Eugene continues. “It was out of character, but she was a teenage girl! They do strange things!”

Vasco purses his lips, looks around with a worried expression. “I wish I could tell you she’s lying. And I’m no psychologist-my major is in pediatrics, but my theory is that the persona was formed from backed-up anger that Alexandria never felt comfortable expressing. Everyone has that sort of shadow self, the part they hide from others. The serum gives form to that.”

David shudders to think about what he’d be like under the same effects.

“How the hell is that supposed to make him feel better?” Jerome squints.

Vasco flushes. “Well, I...that’s just what I think, I can’t lie to him…”

“Hey!”

Anthony waves as he rounds the corner, followed closely by Lydia and Rose. He breaks into a light jog as he approaches, sticking his hands into his coat. “Galia filled us in. Is...is everything alright?”

“No,” Eugene says glumly.

“Hypatia isn’t in her right mind right now,” David tells him. “What exactly were you told?”

“That she’s sick, and has some kind of split personality disorder.”

“Edgar said something about a werewolf?” Lydia’s caught up to them now, smoothing her ponytail out over her shoulder. “I couldn’t really follow him.”

Rose walks around and leans over Eugene’s seat. “Are you okay?”

Eugene shakes his head again, but then he drops his hands and makes to grab at her arms. “Dear, don’t try to kneel, you can’t…”

“They said that Hypatia is the Butcher,” Anthony continues. “Is that really true?”

“Unfortunately.”

He glances in Lydia’s direction. “Is she the one who…”

David turns to Rose, still gripping Eugene’s hands. “Rose. You recognized Hypatia last night.”

She stands up straight, staring at him with big eyes.

“Don’t deny it.”

“I did…” She nods, and begins tugging on her dreadlocks.

“Where have you seen her before?”

“When I lived with my mother.” Her mouth set, eyes hard. Clammed up.

‘She’s hiding many things, but only because she’s afraid. She will tell you what you need to know. Her respect for you outweighs her fear.’

So she is still afraid of him. David can’t exactly blame her. He’s afraid of himself sometimes.

He’s not going to force it out of her. Sabrina says it’s not important, so he’ll earn that trust. It can wait. The rest of this can’t.

“Was she the person who attacked you and Lydia?”

Rose bites her lip. “I don’t know,” she answers.

“It was hard to see,” Lydia pipes up. “But she...they spoke. I might be able to tell from the voice.”

“Let’s go, then. Rose, you can stay here with Eugene if you don’t want to-”

“Eugene?” She raises her head, confused.

Eugene raises his hand.

“You have a real name?”

“Is that okay, that we call you Eugene?” Jerome leans over. “I’ll call you whatever you want, but…”

“Did you...did you people really not know my name?”

Everyone looks away and shuffles their feet. Anthony speaks to the floor.

“You never told us what it was.”

“I assumed Jerome told...I thought it was an inside joke, calling me that.” He turns to Jerome. “You didn’t know my name?”

Jerome swings his hands by his side. “Dude, by the time we became friends I’d known you too long to ask.”

“My parents always referred to you as ‘The Dressmaker’,” Lydia says with a blush. “My sisters and I tried to remember what you name was, but we couldn’t.” She ducks, hides her face in her hands. “I’m sorry!”

Eugene sighs. “It’s fine. Call me whatever strikes your fancy; I’m not picky.”

“Hypatia says she used to call him Uncle Gene,” Vasco helpfully supplies.

“Oh!” Rose perks up. “Can I call you that? I have a couple uncles, but I don’t know when I’ll see them again.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Eugene tells Rose, gripping her hand in his. “We can send Lydia in first. If she can confirm…”

Rose shakes her head. “I’m not going to wimp out now. Lydia’s doing it. I can handle it.”

On her other side, Lydia draws her black sweater tighter over her chest. “It’s okay. We’ll be safe with David right here.”

She has far too much faith in his skills. His and Joan’s wounds are evidence of that.

“Just don’t stress yourself too much, honey.”

“Will you quit it? I’m fine.”

David holds the door for the group. He has half a mind to hold Anthony back, but it’s pointless to try and shield him from this. He’ll be dealing with other grisly s**t soon enough, and it’s not like he won’t find out what’s going on anyway. He ducks under the door, leaning over and whispering something to Vasco while David closes up behind them.

“Should I be insulted by that?” Joan’s voice echoes across the room. “I happen to like chicken.”

“And I wonder if the meat off your ribs tastes like it.”

“What the f**k are you even talking about now?” David steps into the light. Paul gives a sigh of relief.

“David! Thank f**k, I was going mad here with these three.”

“Why are you lumping me in with these kooks?” Joan motions to Trimble, who hasn’t appeared to move aside from his writing hand.

David turns. Lydia is stuck in place, her eyes wide and her legs trembling. Rose’s face is completely blank. He steps aside so the girls can approach the cage.

Lydia steps forward first, then pauses. Reaches out and links her hand in Rose’s, which snaps her out of whatever trance she’s in.

Alex notices and turns. Smiles, showing off her long canines. “Well, look at this. The wayward daughter, returned.”

“Are you talking about me?” Rose asks, forced inflection in her voice. “Or her? Because we’re both still very wayward.”

Alex growls. David steps in, just to put a body between them. “Was she the person who attacked you?”

Lydia nods without hesitation. “I remember that voice. I don’t forget a voice.”

“The eyes are weird-” Rose waves her free hand in front of her face. “-but I can see it. Makes sense.” She stares. “I wondered if it was you.”

“You’ve been looking over your shoulder, wondering when I’d be along to tear your limbs off and watch you wriggle like a worm.” Alex laughs. “Poor little mouse. They wrote you off.”

“That’s enough.” David waves his hand. “You girls don’t have to deal with her anymore. Thank you.”

To his surprise, Lydia shakes her head. “No. I want to know why she tried to kill us. I want her to look us in the eye and tell us why.”

He’s never thought of Lydia as being the assertive Boyle sister. David might have to rethink that.

“You heard the lady.” David turns back to Alex. “Why did you attack Rose and Lydia?”

Alex shrugs. “They were there.”

“Then why were you there? Did Delilah tell you to kill them?”

“Why would you try to kill me?” Lydia blinks her big green eyes. “Who wanted me dead? Why?”

“You aristocrats are so full of yourselves.” Alex’s lip curls in disgust. “Thinking everyone cares. Cares enough that you live, cares enough to spend the money to change that. I had instructions to kill a man at Draper’s Market. I did so. And you happened to cross my path as I took my leave.”

“One of the guys selling meat pies did disappear that week,” Jerome muses. “But no one ever found…” He catches sight of Alex’s grin. “Oh. f**k, I’m glad I didn’t buy any.”

“That’s disgusting.” Lydia raises her finger. “But there had to be a reason you targeted us. There are dozens of people living at the waterfront.”

“You were alone. I was hungry.” She licks her lips. “And you smelled tantalizing. I didn’t realize you had a witch following you.” She turns her gaze to Rose. “I’ll give you credit, little mockingbird, I didn’t realize it was you until I sunk my teeth into your meaty thigh. You’ve masked your scent, and that of everyone here. My mistress has been sending agents to Morley looking for the heir, and here he is. Right under my nose and I wouldn’t even be able to tell if I wasn’t seeing him with my own eyes.”

Anthony leans forward. “Is that what’s up with the perfume you made?”

“No,” Rose whispers. “I’ll tell you later.”

“My mistress will be told of all this,” Alex continues. “She’ll know of David’s survival, mark my words. She is not a woman who likes being proven wrong.”

Rose scoffs. “Then maybe she should try harder to be right.”

Alex growls. “I told her. She knows you got away. She knows you’re alive. And she told me to do whatever’s necessary to shut you up.” Her voice dips ever lower, and her eyes widen with perverse excitement. “I am going to tear your daughter from your womb, and you will listen to her cries as I dine on newborn flesh.”

David waves his hand. “Okay, this has gone on long enough. Somebody get her out of here.”

Rose opens her mouth to protest, but her face is ghost-white. He can see her bare knees trembling, under her skirts, and green veins pop from her clenched fist.

Vasco steps forward and winds his arm in hers. “Let’s go. You should sit down.”

“Yeah, that...I should.”

They wait until they hear the door roll shut behind them, Alex grinning all the way. David is mildly surprised that no one else chose to follow, but everyone is riveted. Grim Alex is like a train accident. Gory, horrible, and you can’t look away.

“You’re not going to get your hands on her.” Eugene stands tall, hands shaking but balled into fists at his side. “You’re not going to touch anyone here. We’re going to cure Alexandria and you, you will never hurt anyone else ever again.”

Alex cackles. “And who’s going to stop me? You?”

“David and Elizabeth fought you once, and they’ll beat you again.”

“Ha!” Alex turns. “They were helpless without the aid of dear Vasco and his needle. And even then, they couldn’t take me on their own!”

“I think it’s time we get down to business,” David says with more confidence than he feels.

Alex sets her hungry eyes on him and smiles. “Oh, why? Do you not like to be reminded of it? How you had to rely on the sweet black queen to save your life? How it took all four of you, working together with your Empress’s murderers, to match me?”

Anthony’s intake of breath makes David’s chest clench painfully.

“David,” he says, his voice wavering. “The Crow Queen? She was there?”

“And the rat.” Alex waves her hand, still grinning. “If it weren’t for them, you’d both be chained to my floor, helpless as I gnawed on your fingers.”

“And if it weren’t for us, they would have killed you,” David states. “I could have let her put a bullet in your skull. I’m the one who saved you.”

“No. You wanted to save Hypatia. If it were possible to kill me without her dying, you would have gladly stepped aside.” She smiles and tilts her head. “Think about it. You owe your pathetic little life to the same pair of hands that gutted your pretty Empress and spilled her entrails all over the floor. Doesn’t that just kill you?”

“Okay, you know what?” Joan cracks her neck. “We’ve been running around for weeks, getting our asses blown up and paddling old men through f*****g hellfire water, all for one f*****g name. So let’s get it out of her so we can move the f**k on with our lives.”

“Oh?” Alex perks up. “So now you want something, from little old me? And I thought you were just playing the kind hostess.”

She grins, showing off all her teeth. David takes a step back on instinct.

Joan stares her down. “What’s the name of the witch Gardenia?”

“And what makes you think I’ll tell you?”

“Because Kaldwin locked you up too,” Joan states factually. “You weren’t her ally either. You were her tool, used whenever she needed people afraid and put back in the toolbox when you weren’t needed. You can’t be loyal to her.”

“Who used who, really?” Alex laughs. “What could she have given me? Power? Money? No, no, I had everything I wanted. Blood under my fingernails and the taste of flesh on my tongue.”

“There’s nothing they denied you?” Paul tries. David jumps when the voice comes from over his shoulder-Paul is just walking back in. He didn’t even see him leave. “Nothing they said no to?”

“They never said no to me,” she hisses, then turns on her heel. “But they are liars. Lying, filthy liars. Oh, how I long to tear their tongues from their skulls!”

Eugene jumps back at the outburst, but Joan is undeterred. “What did they lie about?” She presses. “What did they promise you?”

“HIM!”

She whirls around and thrusts her fingers in David’s direction with such spontaneity that David physically recoils.

“She promised me him! He was the hangman, the one who’d take the fall!” She grips the bars, her weird blue eyes dead-set on David. “The pieces were already in place for when he returned, the witnesses and the evidence planted in his room. To show everyone that David didn’t really go to beg for aid. That he stayed in Dunwall, where no one expected him to be, murdering for the honor of his precious little Sabrina!”

She laughs, and all the hairs on the back of David’s neck stand up.

“The circumstances would close around his neck like a noose, and the Empress would have no choice but to convict her beloved bodyguard.” She throws her head back and cackles. “How betrayed she’d feel! How stupid for believing him all these years! And then my mistress would be there, the rock in her ocean, and she would be by her side as she sentenced the man who raised her to death. My mistress would be free to instill one of her own as the new Royal Protector, and aside from the boy, there would be no one to stop us from putting her under our spell. There wouldn’t be enough of her mind left by the time I went to claim my reward, to care when all that was left of David was a puddle of blood and a pile of gnawed bones on the floor of his prison cell.

“But she ruined those plans!” Alex snarls, turning away. “My mistress had the Empress wrapped around her finger, doubting her most faithful servant, her lovesick bodyguard. Oh, how she wondered about you!” She grins at him, her eyes alight with malice. “Does that hurt? To know your sweet Empress had second thoughts about you? How she wondered if there were ulterior motives to your actions, whether you wanted more from her than she was willing to give?”

“If you have a story to tell,” David says, his arms crossed and his teeth grit. “Then tell it.”

Alex laughs like a hyena. “Oh, don’t you worry. She didn’t stray for long.” She pushes away from the bars, disgust in her face. “She wouldn’t believe her, my mistress, when she told the Empress her suspicions. No matter how the cards were played, she refused to believe you were the Butcher. Didn’t think you had it in you anymore. You’ve proved her wrong, though, in the past months. Shame she isn’t here to see it.”

David clutches the Talisman a little tighter.

“She trusted you more than she trusted my mistress. And just like that,” she flicks her wrist. “Sabrina Stark was more trouble alive than she was dead. Oh, I begged to be the one to kill her! To take her apart, to savor the taste of her heart and the sound of her screams, to give all the Empire a show! And they denied me! Said they had grander plans! But they told me, promised me that when it was done and you were in Coldridge, then I could have her! Then I could taste royal flesh!”

She curls her fingers, as if clawing at the air. “But they lied. They lied. They threw her to the hagfish instead. Let them have her meat and chew the marrow from her bones. She wouldn’t die! She was making such a horrible fuss, and he had to panic. And then my mistress said it was better for her to rot in the river water for a few days anyway, let her bones soak in all the tears of Dunwall. Oh, they pulled her out when she was nice and ripe, put her in a box, but it was wrong.” She shakes her head. “It was all wrong!”

The room echoes with silence. Then Joan clears her throat.

“So, uh, obviously Delilah’s no friend of yours,” she says with a confidence in her voice that David certainly wouldn’t be able to fake. “So why not give us Gardenia’s name? Let us f**k their s**t up a bit.”

She laughs and drops to the floor. “Why bother? It’s much more fun to watch you flop around like fish out of your bowls.”

“But you…” Joan raises her hands. “You just gave us, like, a fuckload of information! Why would you tell us all that, if you don’t want to work with us?”

At that, Grim Alex smiles. Slowly, pulling back her lip and baring her teeth. “My love, what good was that story to you?”

David dips out after a while, knowing they’re not going to get anything out of Alex for the time being. Maybe after a few days, wearing her down with idleness. Or from Trimble’s voice.

Joan follows, looking more rattled than David would have thought possible for her. Anthony and Lydia take their leave as well, Eugene coming with them to check on Rose.

“What were they there for?” Anthony asks as they step outside, his eyes wide in concern but anger coloring his voice.

“I wasn’t about to play twenty questions with them.”

“But they were there for Hypatia.” Anthony presses his mouth into a thin line. “They didn’t hurt you?”

David sighs. “No, Anthony. They didn’t hurt me.”

“They said they just wanted to talk.” Joan shrugs. “Dunno if I believe that. Rat guy got his hands on me, tried to do a dramatic hostage standoff, but he didn’t account for my teeth.”

“You bit him?” Eugene stares, repulsed.

“Yeah...in light of all this, that does seem kinda gross.”

“She got him to drop her.” David rolls his eyes. “That’s all that matters.”

Joan nods. “Hope he gets his rabies shot. I don’t have rabies, but those things hurt like a motherfucker.”

“They just let you walk away?” Anthony turns back to David. “With Hypatia?”

David coughs. “They were the ones who walked away. More like ran.” He meets Anthony’s eye. “I tried to follow them, but they were too fast.”

“That’s good.” Anthony nods. “David, they’re like, witches or something. You can’t fight them on your own.”

He has no idea.

“I’ll find a way to smoke them out,” Anthony continues. “Have a team of agents apprehend them. Just the two of you, they’d slaughter you.” He turns back to Joan. “I’m just glad you were able to think on your feet and get away.”

“I’m glad the Rat King is built like some demented spider with arms too long for his sleeves,” Joan mumbles. “You’d think with how much coin they make they could afford some quality tailoring, but no.”

This is why David wears gloves that go over his sleeves, practically to his elbow. No exposed flesh for darts or acids or sharp teeth to find.

“The guy’s brown, by the way.”

“Brown?” Lydia blinks in confusion.

“His skin’s brown. Not like, Empress or Vasco level dark, more like Reed’s skin color. He ain’t Gristolian, that’s for sure.”

“He had long hair too,” David mumbles, though he’s not sure why he’s adding to the conversation. If his suspicions are correct, he won’t need anyone else’s help figuring out the Rat King’s identity.

“Might be Serkonan or Tyvian,” Anthony muses, then shakes his head. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Weren’t you kidnapped by them?” Lydia asks, tilting her head. “I suppose they didn’t reveal their faces to you.”

“I was out cold. The only time I even got a look at...at her, was when…” Anthony trails off, his face going pale.

“They’re not going to touch you ever again,” David says to him. “I won’t let them get close to you.”

“I know.” His eyes flash. “I’m not worried about myself. I’m not the one they’re focused on.”

“Joan and I can handle ourselves.”

“Against witches?”

“Delilah is a witch! What did you think was going to happen when it came time to take her out?”

“They killed my sister!” Anthony’s chest heaves.

“And I couldn’t protect you then,” David finishes quietly. Anthony shakes his head.

“That’s not what I was going to say, David…”

“But it’s what you were thinking.”

“Don’t put words into my mouth.”

The others have scooted away, looking anywhere but David and Anthony while they fight. David can’t exactly blame them, nor summon the energy to care about putting them in this awkward situation.

“I know I failed you and your sister that day.” David closes his eyes, breathes out.

“You didn’t-”

“I did. But things are different now.”

“How?!” Anthony folds his arms. “You keep beating around the bush and avoiding my questions-I’ve known you my entire life, David, but apparently I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”

“You know me.” David’s voice breaks, traitorously. “You know who I am with you. You don’t need to think about the person I am out there.”

Anthony doesn’t say anything, only balls up his fists and stares at the floor.

Joan coughs and steps forward. “Well, we should probably go make sure Rose hasn’t, like, spontaneously miscarried from dealing with the f*****g demon spawn of the Outsider. Surprised nobody had a goddamn heart attack.”

“Yeah.” David nods, and reaches out to touch Anthony’s shoulder. “Come on.”

Rose is sitting on a bench with Paul’s pipe in one hand, the other clutched in Vasco’s.

“Hey,” she says flatly as they approach. “Did you find out what we need?”

“I wish,” Joan sighs as she drops herself onto the bench opposite her. Eugene takes the seat next to Rose and wraps his arm around her, pulls her into his chest.

“Don’t think too much about it,” he says with his nose buried in her hair. “You’re safe here. She won’t be out of that cage until we cure her.”

“I know.”

“She’s actually a very nice person,” Vasco says, with a smile too bright for the circumstances. “You know, when she’s not like this.”

“We’re all safe in here,” Anthony says as he and Lydia sit down next to Joan. “And as soon as we kick Delilah out, we’ll be in Dunwall Tower. It’s the safest place in the Empire. As long as you don’t try sliding down the bannisters, that is. I chipped a tooth doing that.”

Rose giggles, though the dark look in her eyes doesn’t completely abate.

“Oh, and I guess congrats on having a little girl?” Joan sits up straighter. “If she’s actually right about the genital selection of your fetus, that is.”

“I think she might be able to smell it?” Vasco shrugs. “I don’t know how you’d differentiate gender, but I know she’s able to detect pregnancy.”

Rose clicks the toes of her boots together. “I think she’s right. Ricardo said he can always tell, and he told me I’m having a girl too. If two people say the same thing, there’s probably some truth to it.”

“Well, girls are much easier to raise.” Lydia smiles, and David does his damndest not to scoff. “You must be relieved.”

“Not really. I was hoping for a boy.”

“Ew, why?” Joan wrinkles her nose. “We can teach her to punch things and fight the patriarchy. I mean, I’m not mom material, but if I had to I’d rather have a girl.”

If David had his own kids, he probably would prefer a girl too. Mostly because he was raised by women and has no father figure worth drawing from, and for some reason that felt more important with a boy. Not because girls were any easier-anyone who said that clearly never met Sabrina. He always felt like he ‘got’ Sabrina better than Anthony anyway.

“I mean, it’s not a big deal,” Rose says. “I love them either way. I’m their mom. That’s my job.” She sits up straighter, a small smile gracing her lips. “Reed’s already jazzed up about having a niece.”

“Well, of course he is!” Lydia claps her hands together. “Babies are exciting!”

They are. David finds himself sort of looking forward to the birth. He’s never going to hold that baby, but he can be excited for the rest of them. And it’s still a few years away, but it’ll be nice to have a kid scampering around Dunwall Tower again.

“Hey, one quick question.” David holds his hand out. “Then you guys can gush about baby names and s**t to your heart’s content.”

“You gotta be a killjoy, don’t you?” Joan dramatically sighs.

David ignores her and focuses on Rose. “How did you hide our presence from Alex? Is it a bone charm or something?”

“Oh!” She perks up. “No. Well, sort of the same idea. I drew runes in the corners, all around the perimeter here. Oak bark and palm ash...it neutralizes the energies within the circle-or whatever shape this makes. If that makes sense. You might not even be able to tell people are living in here.”

“I’ve never seen any runes or s**t in here.” Joan squints.

“They don’t have to be that big.” Rose shrugs. “And I’ve been burning juniper and evergreen. Patchouli, when I can get my hands on it.”

“That doesn’t grow outside of Serkonos,” Vasco says. “I can’t imagine it’s very easy to find here, in the middle of quarantine.”

“It’s not. The salvage guys over at the market have had a bottle exactly twice. I ration it, because it’s really good for warding. Not perfect, obviously, but clearly well enough.”

“Can they do that?” David’s mouth is dry. “The other witches. Can they sense people with a spell?”

Rose wrings her hands. “It’s complicated. Detection spells don’t hone in on your body, really, but your spiritual energy.”

“Like, a soul or some s**t?” Joan raises an eyebrow.

“Not really a soul. More like...an aura, I guess would be a closer term? It’s a collection of energies that you carry in your body. Some people are so attuned to this energy that they can see them with the naked eye. For others, they’ll need a spell to reveal them.” She motions as if mimicking waves with her hands, as if they understand what that means. “My runes work by scrambling our energy outside the threshold. So a witch with a detection spell might not be able to see anything past my runes, and Delilah wouldn’t be able to hone in on anyone in specific. That’s probably why she thinks Anthony is in Morley. She can’t detect him in the city.”

Probably why she was so quick to assume David was dead as well, he thinks. f**k.

“But I’ve gone outside since you guys brought me back.” Anthony looks at her inquisitively. “Wouldn’t she be able to sense me then?”

Rose coughs. “Well, yeah. But I help with the laundry. Some pine needles and mugwort in the water…” She shrugs. “It’s not as good as my runes, but it’ll mask your energy. Works for a short period of time.”

“Right, the scents!” Vasco snaps his fingers. “I was wondering how the runes would work on Alex, but that’s it. It’s the incense and the herbs that drive her away.”

“I think so. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really sure if it would work on her.”

Very...interesting. But all that said, David has even less of an idea how the Crow Queen and her coven kept finding them.

“That’s f*****g brilliant, Rosie.” Joan raises her eyebrows. “You’re one hell of a witch.”

Rose just glares at her. “None of that is witchcraft. It’s just plants.”

Joan heads off to sleep some more, while David bathes and changes. He spends the afternoon helping to prepare dinner, which he spends dodging questions about their encounter with the Crow Queen and ignoring Thalia doing her damnedest to annoy the f**k out of Anthony.

Anthony avoids looking at him. And David’s in no mood to deal with him, so he lets it lie.

He helps wash up after dinner, focusing on the uncomfortable wrinkling of his fingers to keep his mind off the twinge in his back. It gets worse when he’s low on sleep, he’s noticed. Or maybe he just notices it more.

“Mr. David?”

David turns to see Reed standing off to the side, his hands behind his back and his eyes on the floor. He actually hasn’t seen the kid all day-figured he was off being moody. David wasn’t going to worry about him if no one else was, so he didn’t pay much attention to his absence.

“Hey, Reed.” David turns back to the dishes. “Something on your mind? I’ll be done with these soon.”

“I just…” He drops his hands to his side and draws in a huge breath. “I’msorryforyellingatyoulastnightandbeingmeantouncleGene.”

David watches him carefully as he picks up a towel. “Reed,” he says slowly. “Are you apologizing because you’re sorry, or because your sister told you to apologize to me?”

Reed doesn’t answer. David dries his hands and taps him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go have a chat.”

He grabs some paper and the packet of crayons he found in the mall, because he was going to give them to Reed anyway, and leads them outside. It’s almost warm out, and it’s been so cold lately that it seems a crime not to enjoy the brief respite from winter.

The sun is just setting, bathing the world in orange. David sits crossed-legged on the asphalt outside the mill and sets the paper and crayons down.

“You like to draw, don’t you?”

Reed nods without looking him in the eye. He selects a brown crayon and starts working. David does the same with a black one.

They work in silence for a little bit. David hasn’t drawn with crayons in forever-not since Anthony was younger than Reed is now. Anthony was never really the artistic type, but David used to try and make time to do something with him. He spent so much time with Sabrina, he didn’t want Anthony to feel ignored.

Sabrina never liked to draw, period. The Emperor had her tutored in painting, one of the skills all good ladies had to learn, but she was so hopeless that he actually let her quit. Her hands were not meant for delicate work with watercolors and charcoals.

David sets his mind on the ship he’s drawing. The hull and the mast, a little wheel at the front. Finally, he speaks.

“You know why we tell you to do things, Reed?”

There’s no hesitation, no looking up from his paper. “Because you’re bigger than me and you can.”

“...No.”

“Because you like bossing me around?” He raises his eyes then, peeking through his eyelashes.

David shakes his head. “No. Nobody likes yelling at you, Reed.”

Reed just stares at him blankly.

“Look, people like me and your sister…” David presses his lips together, trying to organize his next words. “We tell you to do things for your own good. We were your age once, and we did stupid things too. And we paid for it. Then we learned better. We’re trying to let you skip right to that last step.”

Reed looks back down to his paper. “My uncle said not to listen to adults just ‘cause they’re adults. ‘Cause sometimes they’re not good people.”

David crayon catches on a pebble under his paper, warping the line. “That’s...true too.” He puts the crayon back in the pile. “You have a smart uncle.”

Purple for the sails. Ships were almost entirely motor-powered now, but in the age of sail, the Crown exclusively was allowed to use purple dye for their sails. Sabrina had told him that. David selects the purple crayon and gets to work.

“Reed, I’m going to tell you about...something.” David wets his lip. “When I was a little younger than you, someone took me away from my mother.”

Reed nods along, taking the now-unclaimed black crayon. “My sister took me away from our mother too.”

“No, not like that. He was an older man. I didn’t know him.”

“Your pa?” Reed blinks up at him, eyes wide and innocent.

David almost laughs at that. It sounds ridiculous, looking back at it, but at the time he had wondered the same. David had asked the man if he was his father. The Actor had just laughed at him.

“No. He was a bad person.” David blows the air out of his nose. “He...collected kids like me. Had us pick pockets and steal for him.” Among other things, but Reed doesn’t need to hear the details. “So I understand that not all adults are good people. And sometimes you don’t know which ones are going to look out for you and which ones just want to use you.”

It was easier, for him, to just assume that they all wanted to use and hurt him. But even David knows that wasn’t true. And it wasn’t what Sabrina needed to think, not what Anthony needed to think, and it’s not what Reed needs to think now. They deserve to be protected and cared for, to know they can rely on the people around them. They deserve better than what David got.

Reed swaps the black crayon out for a grey one. “I know you won’t hurt me,” he says with a degree of confidence in his voice that surprises David.

David blinks. “I’m not,” he says, even though he doesn’t think he’s the best person for this kid to rely on.

They continue to draw in silence for a while. David adds rigging to the sails, likely completely inaccurate, which Sabrina would certainly point out if David let her see the disgrace to boats everywhere he’s drawing.

“Your uncle’s smart for telling you that,” David starts in again. “Because the adults aren’t always right. And you shouldn’t be afraid of saying no.”

“Then why’d you get mad when I said no?”

“Because there’s a difference between not wanting to do something because it’s wrong, or...or because it makes you uncomfortable, and just not wanting to do it. We just told you to go to bed. You can’t say no just because you don’t want to do it. If I told you to, say, go steal some of Lady Thalia’s jewelry, you can refuse because stealing is wrong.”

“My brother and sister stole food all the time.” Reed blinks at him.

David sighs and rubs his eyelids. He sucks at these kinds of talks. He should have asked someone else to do it.

“That’s...okay, that’s different, and an entirely different topic. My point is,” He sucks in breath. “People like your sister, they tell you to do things for your own good. If it’s not for your own good, then you can say no.”

Reed is quiet, but then he nods and selects a red crayon. “Yeah, okay. That makes sense.”

“Good. Now, can I ask why you pushed your sister down?”

“Because she made me angry,” he says robotically.

He is so not the right person for this talk, David thinks. “Do you think that was right of you? Your sister’s having a baby. Your niece or nephew could have gotten hurt too.”

Reed screws up his face, wrinkles his nose and blinks his shiny eyes.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t hit people, because sometimes you have to.” If they ever find their mother, this woman is going to f*****g murder David. “But you can’t hurt people just because they made you angry. You made Eugene really upset yesterday and he didn’t hit you, did he?”

It’s then that Reed bursts into tears. He drops the crayon and brings his hands to his face. “I miss my brother,” he says into his palms.

David nods, though Reed can’t see it. “I know.”

“I want to go home.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” David begins shading in the ship with the brown crayon.

“You don’t know!” Reed points his fists on the ground. “You get to go home!”

“Reed, did you sister tell you what I did for your brother in the Distillery District?”

Still wiping away tears, Reed nods.

“So you know he’s going to be okay. When this is over, your sister is going to come work for me and Anthony, and your brother will come live in Dunwall Tower with you two.” He levels a stare in Reed’s direction. “It’s not perfect, I know. But it’ll be okay.”

“I hate this,” Reed mumbles, wiping the back of his hand across his nose. “Don’t you? Anthony said you’re a stoneheart or something. S’why you never cry about the Empress. Why you never look like anything until you’re mad.”

“I don’t like to cry in front of people.” Technically true. “I get angry too, so I understand how you feel. But I don’t hit Anthony and tell him I hate him. He doesn’t deserve that, and neither does your sister.”

“I know,” Reed hiccups.

“I’m not asking you to apologize,” David tells him. “Though if you’re sorry, you should let her know. I’m asking you to keep in mind that your actions have consequences. The things you say, the things you do, they can hurt people. So just think about it before you act.”

Reed nods, tears dripping off his nose.

“Sometimes I think this plague is just going to go on and on,” he says, bringing his arms around his knees. “Until everyone ever dies and it’s the end of the world.”

David presses his lips together. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Or everyone will all kill each other.”

David is silent. Reed just shakes.

“I’m scared,” he says in a whisper.

David reaches out to swipe his thumb under Reed’s left eye. “I know you are. But I’m going to protect you.”

“From everything?” Reed looks at him through his lashes again, bitter and sad. David nods as a tear drops from his chin and onto his drawing.

David looks down on instinct, actually looks at Reed’s drawing for the first time. Three blind rats, black holes where their eyes should be. Torsos inflated with muscles and long claws, teeth sharp. Muzzles red, red dripping from their empty eye sockets. Weeping blood.

The nightmares wake him again.

All blood and bones, viscera and lung tissue laid out on the pavement. Joan’s webbed toes severed from her foot, Lydia Boyle’s scream echoing through the air. Sabrina’s dead eyes, staring forever at the sky.

David is exhausted, but he’s not desperate enough to go back to sleep.

He shoves his feet into his boots and grabs his pistol, left on the shelf above his bed next to his candle and bottle of aspirin. Tucks it into his waistband, just to make him feel better.

Anthony and Rose had been giggling with each other in the hour before bed, and apparently she never left. They sleep military style, heads at opposite ends and sharing the blanket. Anthony curls his legs slightly, likely to avoid shoving his large feet into Rose’s face.

They’re both motionless. No terrors. No panicked whispers, no thrashing about. They’re completely out of it. David is almost jealous.

David sits on a chair and keeps watch.