The Queen's Champion

Chapter 15

David has to scoff at that. Visitors to the city, yeah right. Everyone with a lick of sense and the coin to do so left Dunwall a year ago. If some fools had been visiting when quarantine was enacted, they might as well be permanent residents now. Dunwall will be their grave.

“So what can we expect up on the bridge?” Joan asks, watching the water as she steers. Her eyes dart to him when he doesn’t answer. “David?”

“Huh?” He blinks, fumbling with the new buttons on his coat sleeve. “I’ve never been.”

Really, it was amazing Jerome was able to salvage as much of his coat as he did. David can feel the stitching that joins the new fabric to the old, burnt-but-still-salvageable bits when he runs his finger over the outer layer. It had been a lot of work, but apparently less than it would be completely starting over, Jerome making him new armor from scratch.

He’d also used it as an opportunity to make some improvements. Boiled leather between the linings, something he called ‘moth-dust wrappings’ over the exterior. Jerome explained that it would absorb more light, making him harder to see. He also soaked the entire thing in a flame retardant, so David doesn’t almost burn to death again. More pockets. The coat’s heavier now, but David finds he feels more secure in it than weighed down. Jerome also added a hood, and wound a scarf around David’s neck before he left. David doesn’t think covering his face with a napkin will be much protection, but he supposes he has needed to conceal his identity a few times. Probably come up again in the future.

“You’ve never been to Kaldwin’s Bridge.” Joan stone-faces him, but then she shrugs and turns back around. “I guess you never had reason to, huh? Living up in that fancy Tower with the Empress and shit.”

“I spent fifteen years on the streets before I ever saw the inside of that palace, Elizabeth Catspaw. I know Dunwall.”

True, he wasn’t in Dunwall that entire time. David moved around a lot in his youth-some time in Baleton and Potterstead, that year he spent in Driscoll, even a six-month stint in Alba. (that was a mistake) He’d get the itch to move and be gone in a night. Roving Feet, the Abbey denounced it. David always figured it was the bit of his mother in him. She was always a wanderer.

But he always returned to Dunwall, in the end. Never knew why. He didn’t like Dunwall. But he knew these streets. Could lose himself in the crowds without getting lost. Dunwall wasn’t his home. But it was his.

“I guess. You did meet the Empress on the streets.” Joan rolls her shoulders back. “Sometimes it’s easy to forget she was born a gutter urchin. Noble f***s did a good job of making her theirs.”

Funny, because the nobles never forgot she was a streetrat. Never stopped reminding her that she would never, truly be one of them. Sabrina couldn’t win.

“Anyway. Kaldwin’s Bridge!” Joan sweeps her hand out, gesturing towards to large bridge spanning the width of the Wrenhaven. “Commissioned in 1807 by Euhorn Kaldwin, father of the f**k-ass Lady Regent. Holds factories, apartment buildings, and over a hundred individual upper-class homes, all suspended a hundred feet over the water.”

David raises his eyebrow. “And you, what, read about this?”

She shakes her head, a smile on her face. “Reed info-dumped me while I helped with the dishes, before we left.”

‘I smell blood beneath the stones, and bones in the pylons,’ Sabrina whispers. ‘Men died building this structure.’

Sabrina doesn’t have a goddamn nose to smell with, but her words make David shiver anyway.

“I think it perfectly describes Dunwall,” he says, leaning forward. “A miraculous feat of engineering, a structure that is both entirely unnecessary and uselessly extravagant.” And built, quite literally, on the backs of the poor. The people that lived on this bridge walked atop corpses.

“Couldn’t say it any better myself.”

Then, to David’s surprise, Joan begins steering Melusine to the right.

“What are we doing?” David asks. “Isn’t Sokolov’s apartment on the North End?”

For a moment, David wonders if he read the map wrong. The Bridge was labeled north and south despite the fact that the river, and thus the Bridge, actually spanned east and west. Which confused him greatly at first. He supposes the North End might be slightly more north than the Southside, but still. Like he said, unnecessary and more complicated than it needs to be.

But no, he’s sure he’s remembering right. Coming from the north, they should be docking at the left side of the bridge.

Joan just shakes her head. “You see those watchlights up there? We’ll be spotted.”

“So?”

“So? The place is under curfew. We might get in fine now, but it’ll be dark by the time we leave with Hypatia.” She guides the boat under one of the bridge’s arches. “Also I don’t know if they have a watchtower set up at the top there. We might be badasses on land, but we’re sitting ducks in the water, remember.”

David pulls out the spyglass that Jerome insisted on packing with him and examines the top of the towers. He sees nothing but steel beams and annoying, waving banners.

“A watchtower wouldn’t work from that height.” David rolls his eyes, retracting the scope. “But okay, fine. Guess we can ask Alex to meet us back here…”

But Joan shakes her head. “We just have to knock out the lights. Probably whale-powered, should be easy enough. Then we can dock the boat at the North End.”

“A solid plan if I’ve ever heard one from you, Catspaw.” David nods in appreciation.

Joan pulls up to a dock and shuts the boat engine off. David moves to get out of the boat.

Her fingers on his wrist. “David.”

“What now?”

“Only one of us has to go up there. The other needs to bring the skiff around.”

“Okay.” He nods, rocking on his feet. “No need to signal you, I guess. You’ll meet me near the safehouse?”

Joan stares at him dryly. And David gets it.

“If this is about my f*****g back, Catspaw-”

“It’s not-” She scoffs, pinching her lips together and looking to the sky in annoyance. “Look, I had to sit on my ass and wait for you during that whole deal with Abele, okay, you can sit one out too.”

“Then come, if you’re feeling left out. I’m not stopping you.”

“Okay, fine, I don’t want you to go!” Joan throws her hands up in the air. “Your back is f****d up, old man! You could barely handle delving through the sewers last week, and I-”

“I wasn’t...in my right mind then.” David looks away.

“I’m not even talking about that. You were in pain.”

“I can handle pain.”

Joan rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you’re tough. I get it. f**k me for not wanting you to die, I guess.”

David scoffs as she passes him by, jumping out of the boat. “I’m not going to-”

“You almost did.” Joan whirls around, her nose scrunching up before her expression goes blank. She folds her arms. “You were invincible one minute, cutting down Overseers and s**t, and the next I was fishing your body out of the river and wondering how the hell I was going to explain to Anthony that his dad boiled to death on my watch. Do you know what that stunt you pulled did to him?”

David is silent. Joan continues to tear into him, her voice becoming more uneven at every word.

“I wasn’t there when someone gave him the news, but I’m pretty sure he broke some record sprinting over to Trimble’s clinic. He yelled and invoked whatever Emperor-ly authority he has when Trimble told him to get out. He. Would. Not. Leave. Your. Side. Rose had to threaten to give him poppy tincture before he’d go the f**k to sleep.” Joan’s hands cut through the air, and her eyes flash. “And I swear to the Void, if you ever do that s**t to us again, I will-”

“Think you’re being quiet?!”

David sees a flash of blue up near the top of the stairs, behind the fencing that covers the topside of the bridge. Without hesitation, he grabs Joan by her jacket and pulls her down on top of him. Arm around her waist, the other at her back, flattening them both down in the boat. She bangs her lip on his sternum, responds with a hushed “f**k”, but that’s all the protest he gets. She presses her head into his chest and they wait.

“What’s wrong?”

“Thought I heard someone over here…”

David watches through Void Gaze. Just two of them, a normal guard flanked by an officer. He could take them out easily. But he might not have to. And Joan doesn’t have her mask on yet, her face bare to see.

“Might just be rats again…”

“It sounded like a lady.” The guard checks under the bridge arch, but mercifully chooses just to turn back when he sees nothing. “I dunno, what if it was a river mermaid? That’d be sexy.”

“More likely to be a damn ghost. There’s something weird about this river. The wife feels it too, says it just feels... sad.” They’re turning back now, ascending the steps. “Can’t wait until quarantine’s lifted, move back to Karnaca. No haunted rivers there.”

David doesn’t release Joan until he sees them disappear, and she spits blood into the water and rubs what’s left off her lip.

“Stay in the f*****g boat, David,” she says, not looking at him. “I’ll meet you at the North End, and we’ll go talk to Hypatia together. Let me handle this.”

“Joan.” She stops, her shoulders raised to her ears, but she listens.

David closes his eyes and breathes out. “A little challenge for you. No deaths on our conscience today.”

“You still on that?” She turns, and even smiles.

“We don’t need to run the river red, Catspaw. And you don’t need to kill people if you don’t get caught.” He leans forward. “Unless you’re not good enough to stay out of sight.”

“As if, old man.” She snorts. “I’ll keep my blade clean if you don’t f**k up my boat anymore.”

And she presses her mask to her face, disappears into the black.

David pops a cigarette and tries to calm his fluttering heartrate. Joan is more than capable-and now that’s he’s put it to a challenge, she’ll avoid starting s**t too, thinking she’s proving herself. She can’t get hurt if she doesn’t get into fights.

And if something does happen, well, she can Call to him. That makes him feel better.

‘The river ahead is thick with the dead.’ Sabrina’s voice is quiet, swallowed up by the sound of the waves. ‘There was no more elixir, no food or help after...when the Empress, when she?’ She trails off. ‘She’s not...I was there. I had no eyes, but I saw.’

David looks out on the water. He wishes he could help, have a real conversation with her, but he knows it’s no use. Sabrina is lost to him when she’s...like this.

David’s sorted Sabrina’s moods into three categories. There was the informative voice, whispering secrets and knowledge that shouldn’t be possible for her to hold into his ear. Those are the times she’ll make what passes for jokes for her now, philosophizes on whatever subject that has garnered her attention. That’s when she sounds like his Sabrina, the one he remembers.

Then there was the...rage. She still sounds like Sabrina then, but in a way that makes his stomach turn. Sabrina was always quick to anger, even as a child, but this is different. The fury takes her over. He tried so hard to keep her from that-tried not to engage with her when she was being combative, literally held her down when she got violent until she could calm herself. He didn’t want her to end up as bitter as him. Her angry moments, it’s like the worst of her meltdowns except she never runs out of steam, has to formulate words to express her anger instead of lashing out physically, and David has no way to restrain her. She sounds like Sabrina, but it’s the part of Sabrina he always wished he could shoulder for her.

And then there’s this. The confused. Like Sabrina is adrift in the sea, and David has no way of guiding her back to land. He hates it because she’s forgotten, because she has no way to express her own existence to herself, because she’s so clearly distressed about it all. He hates it because he also wishes she could stay like that. He never hears about it, but he knows that at some point, Sabrina has to remember. The confusion will end as she remembers that she’s dead, how she died, that David is exploiting her now. As horrible he feels for her in those moments, in the midst of her confusion, they have to be better than the moment it all comes back to her.

He lets the boat bob with the waves, smoking down his cigarette. His thoughts turn to her words on the plague victims, floating downriver. He knows that Delilah (or Lord Burrows, apparently, as it seems that she’s allowing him to run amok with his ideas for fighting the plague-she can’t be bothered to actually govern, of course) is sending the corpses to Rudshore, not too far south of here. Again, he doesn’t know why. There were plenty of abandoned lots and buildings across Dunwall now, it should be relatively easy to plot out places to dig mass graves. Easier still if they burned them. The Abbey had protested that, for whatever f*****g reason. Something about disgracing the dead and it not being true cremation.

Dumping them in Rudshore might put the problems out of sight, but they were far from gone. David highly doubts they were taking the time to bury the bodies once they were in the district. Besides the plague dead being infectious themselves, the biggest problem with the existence of the corpses was the fact that the rats ate them. An easy food source meant more rats surviving and going on to breed, more rats to spread the plague. Covering the corpses with dirt would impede the rats, if not completely stop them. Rudshore is likely a fertile breeding ground for plague rats by now.

That is, if it’s dry. He remembers when the dam broke, when Rudshore flooded. They were at court, and a servant had darted in and whispered the news into the Empress’s ear. Sabrina had gone completely grey and immediately dismissed court for the day, her legs so rubbery that she had stumbled trying to get to her feet. David had to help her stand. She had sat with her head in her hands as she was debriefed, her eyes far away and haunted. But there was nothing she could do, she had said, after her advisors had made their exit and they were alone together in her office. She stared out the window, out past her blank reflection in the glass and towards her city. Fixing the dam, draining the district, rebuilding, it would require manpower and tax money that just wasn’t available. All she could do was send out boats, help the survivors. Hope for the best. There was nothing more she could do.

Was the district completely underwater? Sabrina had wanted to visit, see it first-hand and help out, but both he and her advisors said no. Too dangerous, and her presence wouldn’t have helped matters much anyway. She knew that. But she still wanted to be there. That was Sabrina.

If the dead are spilling out into the river, that would indicate there was enough water for them to float, enough to put them at sea level. Dropping the dead into essentially river water, that would cause a host of other problems. The plague didn’t only affect humans-plenty of livestock had contracted the disease. Cats were extremely susceptible, for some reason. Which was very unfortunate because they could have kept the rat population down. They didn’t know if aquatic creatures could get it. Just what they needed, plague-bearing hagfish.

And, plague in the river water? You couldn’t drink the water from the Wrenhaven now anyway, but plenty of people still used it for washing. Boiled it first, but still. And wouldn’t it run the risk of contaminating the water table? David doesn’t really know s**t about groundwater and whatnot, but that sounds like it could be a thing.

There’s a slight sound, the smallest snippet of a word. David puts his smoke down and lets the Talisman take form.

“Did you say something, Sabrina?”

She speaks with several voices, all inaudible whispering bouncing off the waves. He listens intently, and he faintly makes out ‘Take me closer.’

“To Joan?” he raises an eyebrow. Joan’s not in danger-he can feel her, right on the edge of his being, feel her heartrate and her vague position if he concentrates. “Where do you want to go?”

More whispers. Like the archaic language he hears when he uses his powers, but in Sabrina’s voice. As if she can’t remember how to speak her mother tongue.

Then, ‘The water.’

“You want to go out on the water?” David starts the engine up again. Not like he has anything else to do while he waits.

David steers the boat out to the open river, glancing back at Kaldwin’s Bridge from the south side. Watchlights on this part of the river too. Though he’s far out of their reach, and it’s still dusk in any case. They won’t care about one lone boatman a quarter mile away from the bridge.

He shuts off the engine and lets the waves rock the skiff, leaning back and staring up at the sky. It’s still a little too bright for stars, but they’d be out soon. Maybe if Joan took a while, he could stargaze with her. One last time.

Fuck, Sabrina loved this s**t. Loved boats, loved being out on the open water. David took her out as much as they were able to, stealing early mornings before court and nighttime escapades away from her royal duties. On days with busy river traffic, Sabrina would point out all the passing ships and vessels and rattle off names and facts about them, and he’d listen and nod politely even though he could care less. Watching the excitement in her face, that was the real show. If there were no boats to prattle on about, they’d take their eyes off her city and watch the sky. Didn’t need to say much. These trips weren’t for talking.

When was the last time he did that for her? Did he take her a final time before he left on his trip, or was it before she asked him to go? He can’t remember when it was, what they were avoiding. How it felt. Would he have treated it differently, if he had known it would be their last time?

He feels odd, like there are eyes on him. He takes out his spyglass, scanning over the bridge until his eye rests on a shadowy figure at the very top of the bridge, in between the two towers.

Joan waves.

Well, she’s definitely gotten over her fear of heights, David thinks with a smile. He folds the spyglass back up and tucks it into his coat.

‘Closer.’

At that, David frowns and holds Sabrina up. “Did you want to go for a swim, or...”

‘No! I need to be closer!’

There, David feels it. A movement in the Talisman, unlike her throbbing and humming. A tug, urging him downriver.

David looks up at the spires of Dunwall Tower.

‘You’re too far! Take me closer!’

“Sabrina, I…” His mouth is open, but he can’t get the right words to compile, to give to her.

‘Lead me there! Take me back!’

He knows she’s not talking about the Tower. She had similar feelings as him regarding her palace-that it was a beautiful work of architecture, imposing and cold and not at all homely. She would have strongly preferred living somewhere else. Maybe a classy apartment overlooking the harbor or, knowing Sabrina, a goddamn houseboat. She had an estate out in the countryside, inherited from her father, that she loved. She never liked living in the Tower. She wouldn’t want to go back now.

But beneath Dunwall Tower is a large system of man-made caves, accessible only through a winding path down the cliffside from the Tower grounds itself. Reserved only for the Royal Family and their close friends, not open to the public. The Imperial Crypt.

David always thought it was creepy. Why would the Emperor want the bones of his parents so close all the time? How was Sabrina comfortable literally walking over her father’s grave? He could never truly determine how the layout of the tombs worked in relation to the Tower floor plan, so he was always acutely aware that at any given moment, he could be standing over Emperor Stark’s stupid face and not know it. He didn’t get why the crypt had to be literally right under the palace.

Now, Sabrina’s ruined body lies there. Where she rests, or is supposed to.

And that’s where Sabrina wants to be.

‘Give me back to her! Let me go back!’

“Sabrina, I…” His mouth is dry. He swallows, painfully. “I can’t.”

‘You must! This separation must end!’

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t go back now.”

‘No! I must return to the flesh! Get me closer!”

“We can get a little closer,” David says, even though he shouldn’t bait her like this. “But I can’t tonight. They’ll kill me before I reach you.”

And he can’t give up the Talisman right now. Not tonight. He’s not...he’s not ready. He needs time to prepare for that.

Sabrina is placated as they roll with the waves, but only momentarily. She starts up again once she realizes they’re only drifting in the vague directly of Dunwall Tower, not nearly fast enough. ‘You’re off your mark!’

“I just told you-”

‘Don’t you see? She is a shell with my face, feeding off the cracks in the world. She needs me! You must let me go to her!’

‘She’ is a corpse, far too rotted away to be of any use. David can’t exactly say the dead coming back to life is an impossibility-he literally holds her spirit in his hand as he performs a dozen impossible tasks, impossibility wasn’t a word-but even he can’t entertain that fantasy.

David shakes his head, and Sabrina’s voice wavers. Anger and sorrow, pain in every strain of her voice.

‘It hurts to be so near! Point me to her!’

He can feel her there, her energy focused and centered. Pushing on the walls of her prison. Banging her fists, clawing her way out.

‘This is a great perversion! I must be one with the flesh!’

“Sabrina, I’m sorry. I’ll take you there, but not until-”

‘Take me BACK! GIVE HER BACK!’

David is stunned silent. And then the bridge watchlight goes out.

He needs to...go. He starts up the boat again without another word.

‘No. No, this is wrong.’ Sabrina might weep, if David had ever known her to really do that. He just continues piloting the boat. ‘Please. Take me to her. Take me home.’

David says nothing. And Sabrina mercifully dissolves into the strange whispers and half-crying sounds he heard earlier as they drift away from the Tower.

As they near the bridge and Sabrina tapers off, David is forced to acknowledge that his suspicions were correct. Sabrina would have to be returned to her body in order to release her.

Why, he has no idea. The Empress’s tomb holds nothing but a bundle of bones by now. Sabrina has no flesh to return to-it was all blackened and dry, shriveled around her skeleton. Her muscles bloated until her skin split open, pink and raw and oozing with viscera, then discolored and cracked as seawater was wrung from her form, drying her out. She wasn’t even complete anymore. Her fingers had been nibbled at, and her eyes were missing. They had to hold her upper body together with gauze as they prepared the body for burial, because her joints came loose and part of her arm nearly fell off. The water had washed away bits of her with the tide and the pounding of the waves. He’s sure Sabrina would find humor in that-a part of her would always be in the sea. But those parts are forever out of David’s reach.

It wasn’t as if she could be restored. Her body held nothing for for her now-nothing of value to anyone except David.

Maybe that was the point. Maybe she needed to see that, know it before she could make peace with her death. Or something.

Maybe she never does remember. Maybe Sabrina doesn’t know she’s dead.

In any case, he would need to visit her grave. He promised Anthony their own little funeral, a chance to say goodbye, but David will never, ever tell him about the Talisman. He’d have to sneak down before they did that, visit her on his own. Let her go.

Would he...would it be enough just being in the room with her? How close did she have to be? If he had to actually return to her, he’d have to access the casket. Which was currently contained in a sarcophagus literally carved into the plinth it lied upon, under a slab of stone that weighed at least a ton. He’d have to...find a way to cut through the concrete that bound it, and obviously redo it afterwards. And he couldn’t lift the top off himself. Maybe with him, Joan, Paul, and Galia combined, they could lift it. But then he’d have to explain to them why he needed to disturb the tomb of his Empress.

And he doesn’t want to...open it. Doesn’t want to see her reduced to another body wrapped in a sheet, doesn’t want to cut open her shroud and disturb her.

Ridiculous. David’s seen bodies in all stages of decomposition. He knows, conceivably, what Sabrina must look like now. The witches had given him enough details to put the picture together himself. He conjures the images in his head, sees them in his nightmares, no matter how hard he works to banish them from his thoughts. He’d prefer not to see his Empress in that state. He’d rather remember her how she appeared on the last day of her life, skin smooth and all her body parts in their right place. Beautiful, intelligent, and strong. That’s what Sabrina was, and he knew she’d rather that be the image of her he held onto.

But that doesn’t matter. It it gives Sabrina peace, David will do it. And anyway, whenever he pictures her now, his thoughts immediately turn to her fearful, pallid face as she lied on the stones, how her blood stuck to his hands for days until they started submerging him in cold water as an interrogation technique. Disturbing her decrepit, lifeless corpse, living with that image burned into his brain, that was a small price to pay to set Sabrina free.

But he hopes it doesn’t come to that.

He guides the skiff back to the north side of the bridge before turning towards their meeting point, hoping it’ll keep Sabrina from demanding her return. This has been the closest he’s gotten to the Tower since he got her back-hopefully it was just the proximity to her old body that triggered it.

He doesn’t know how the hell he’s supposed to handle it when he returns to kill Delilah. Or if Ashworth is anywhere near the Tower District.

Regardless, Sabrina stays quiet. After a bit, David picks up again and starts talking to her, rambles on about the kids back at base and their drama. He feels her hum, but it’s a gentle thing. He can’t tell if she’s hurt or angry with him. But if she is, he lets her be.

Coming up on the drawbridge, David’s eyes are dragged to one of the buildings that look over the water. A balcony with its door thrown open, casting out a purple hue that leaks into the air. In his hand, the Talisman thrums a little faster.

Fuck, he doesn’t want to deal with this. He swears he sees the black-eyed bastard’s face in his nightmares almost as much as Sabrina’s, all sneering down on him and laughing at David’s misery. But he hasn’t actually seen Him since the day he rescued Anthony. He knows there’s a shrine down in the sewers, so David can technically go talk to the asshole whenever he wants, but he...doesn’t.

But the song of the runes catch on his ears, and David finds himself veering off his determined path.

He docks Melusine under the bridge, and has to sneak up the steps while keeping his head ducked as the guards above joke about their arc pylon killing Bottle Street gang members. David shakes his head. He can’t wait until Anthony gets rid of those things. Clearly, people couldn’t be trusted even with the low power module.

David walks down the backstreet in the direction of the purple apartment, listening closely for the hum of bone. No bodies half-heartedly hidden in the bushes, at least, which means Joan’s held herself to her promise.

“OUTLIVE ME?!”

David jumps, and hurries to hide himself off the path, but it’s unnecessary. The voice comes from above, grating and hoarse, screaming to the air.

“You will not outlive me!” the voice yells. “I will see the summer, and the winter after that! I will remember none of you! I will not remember any of you!”

If he was suffering from the plague, then he might live to see the Month of Hearths. But plague victims didn’t usually have the strength to yell out obscenities at random.

“I am the one! I am the one who sees it all! I see everything and you see nothing! Nothing!”

And the plague didn’t f**k with your brain like this. It attacked it, destroyed its logical functions, leaving its victims incapable of clear thought but fully able to feel pain. It did not induce delusional ramblings.

The man steps out onto the balcony above David, slamming his hands on the railing. "Look past me, moon. Look past me, sun. I am not your bride! You will not come to me today! I will be untouched!"

No, whatever this guy’s problem was, he had it long before any plague set in.

“The sun! It burns!” He turns and walks back inside, raving all the way. “Why does it burn? Why did we put the sun into a jar?! And then we broke it all over our little world…”

David Blinks to the balcony, standing behind the doorframe so to not be seen. The man paces in his apartment, dressed haphazardly and definitely too skinny to be healthy, but not weeper-like. To the side of the room, David spies the altar and the rune carefully places atop its surface.

“It has taken my water.” The man paces, shaking his hand and muttering. “It has taken my blood, it has taken my seed. Why will it not speak to me?”

...ew.

The air is rich with the stink of rot. David sees the corpse in the corner, blood on his chest and bugs swarming around. The mad man gravitates towards the other side of the room, to the balcony overlooking the streets.

“I will set fire on the hairs on their faces! I pull nails from their feet with my own teeth!” He pounds his fists on the railing. “I will taste their eyes against my tongue like the eggs of fish! I will set fire on the hairs of their faces!”

Okay, then.

There’s a bang as something solid hits the balcony. “Shut up, bleeder!”

“A great crack shall open in the earth and swallow the non-believers!” The man screams, pointing down at whoever protested his ramblings. “And they shall weep! Weep! Weep! Tears of salt and earth and dirt!”

A green dart pinches the man in his elbow, and David pulls him out of view as he stumbles.

Right. Hopefully he’ll wake up a little more clear-headed, David thinks as he props the man up against the wall. If not, well, it’s not really David’s problem anymore.

No point in putting it off any longer, he supposes. David turns and readies himself to face the Outsider.

The cracks come as soon as his hand touches the bone, just as David expects. Then the black-eyes bastard is there, sitting on the altar with His legs crossed, as if He’s always been there.

“I so enjoy watching history warp as words pass from the lips of one to the ears of another.” The Outsider is already grinning with too many teeth, gesturing with His long fingers. “Imperfectly formed, half understood, poorly remembered.”

“So you admit that you like f*****g with us?” David raises his eyebrow. “You like seeing the results of the chaos you cause.”

“Nobody ordered man to create war. They fight of their own accord, and I don’t choose who wins and whose body gets tossed into the river. I simply enjoy watching.”

David grits his teeth and stares.

The Outsider just smirks and fades from existence. When David’s eyes locate Him again, He’s standing with His back turned and His hands clasped behind His back, staring over the water.

“Can you stop doing-”

“Rivers change course over many lifetimes,” the Outsider interrupts. “And eventually all bridges come tumbling down. A thousand years ago, there was another city on this spot. The people carved the bones of whales and inscribed them with my Mark. Children still find them washed up in the river mud.”

“It may have gone by a different name,” David states. “But if people have lived here the entire time, it’s the same city.”

Dunwall wasn’t his home, but it was where he made himself. Where he met his streetrats. Where his Sabrina had ruled. It was always her city. It always would be.

“Really?” The Outsider turns, and c***s His head. “That’s a bold assumption to make, as a man standing in the death throes of a civilization. I’ve seen cities go bad before, and I’ve seen all of Dunwall’s futures. And I can tell you that if the appropriate steps aren’t taken, Dunwall will be a city of corpses and rats within five years.”

When David doesn’t respond, the Outsider shrugs His shoulders and returns to calmly gazing out towards the river. “Who knows? Maybe in a few centuries, people will have forgotten the ghost capital of the Empire, the city swallowed by plague, and they will clear away the rubble and the ruined buildings and start anew. Build another city atop the dead. Perhaps your Empress’s bones will wash up on the shore, and children will play games with her skull and witches will carve totems from her ribs.”

“That’s enough.” David’s voice shakes.

The Outsider just smiles, and passes David by with His nose in the air.

“I’ll tell you what I do see.” The Outsider waves His hand. “In the years to come, monsters like the Rat King and Crow Queen, the Dunwall Butcher and even the Crown Killer, their stories will be twisted and bent. Hammered like soft metal.” He grins as David perks up in interest at the names. “By some accounts, monsters that had to be put down. By others, victims of treachery. Saved because in the end, you found another way.”

There was no other way. They had to die. They all had to die.

“But what future comes to pass is not up to me. That choice belongs to you, David, my friend.” The Outsider holds his arms out. “Will your decision be immortalized by pen, written as a memoir years from now as you sit in the Tower gardens, reflecting as you watch your adopted grandchildren play amongst the flowerbeds? Or will it be scratched out on these crumbling city walls in red ink, drawing from your own vein when all the blood on your blade has run dry? What will be written in that final chapter, David? What happens to scary monsters, in the end?”

Then the Outsider is gone, and the room is whole and empty.

David breathes. Then he kicks the shrine over with a yell.

He listens for guards who may have heard his outburst, still breathing hard. But eventually his lungs relax and he’s able to uncurl his fists, and all is quiet outside.

David closes the balcony doors, wondering how this crazy asshole hasn’t frozen his d**k off. He toes the pile of driftwood, but leaves it alone. Not like the guy had a rune for his shrine, anyway. David slips out the front.

Now what? He doesn’t want to return to the skiff right away-he feels antsy, like his muscles are dancing and he needs a way to expend his energy. He checks-Joan isn’t at the North End yet, so he’s got some time to f**k away.

The streets are empty. David keeps an eye out for any patrolling guards as he Blinks down to check the wanted posters on the board. One for him is still up, and again the sight of Sabrina’s portrait at the side makes his heart clench, but the paper is already fading in places and the corners are overlapped by other posters. Same bounty. The wording has changed from ‘wanted dead or alive’ to ‘bounty will be paid out on forfeiture of him or his remains’, which is interesting. Delilah truly thinks him to be dead, then. Just as well.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, David recognizes the picture on the next poster as Joan’s whaler mask. The bounty notice lists the infamous Crown Killer as A) female, and B) taller than either Joan or David is. It makes no mention of magic use. Her bounty is the same as David’s has been sitting at for the past month, 30,000 coin. He doesn’t want to know how much the bounties would be if Delilah knew they were both for the same person.

Both the Crow Queen and the Rat King, however, their bounties have increased since David last saw their posters. 20,000 for each, 50,000 if they’re brought in together. f*****g Void, did she plan to have any money left to rebuild Dunwall? The Imperial coffers ran deep, but they were dry as of late. And it wasn’t like there was any tax money coming in to replenish it.

He climbs to the top of the apartment building and stares out at Dunwall. What he wouldn’t give to go for a run now. Jumping across rooftops, climbing trellises and gutter pipes to get higher.

Was it...true, what the Outsider had said? Five years. Five years for the rats to take over and for Sabrina’s city to crumble into dust and crushed bits of bone.

Anthony would insist on staying, on going down with the ship, because that’s how Anthony is. How Sabrina was, too. David would have to drag him out. He doesn’t really know why Dunwall is the capital of the Empire-he’s sure Sabrina learned the reasons behind it during her lessons, but David certainly doesn’t remember. In any case, circumstances changed. Laws could be as well. Some other city could easily be made the capital. Anthony could rule from anywhere.

“The Lady Regent has increased her reward for information leading to the discovery of our late Empress’s heir, her brother Anthony Stark, to fifteen thousand coin upon the recovery of him or his remains. Be advised, claiming the reward does not confer legal immunity.”

She’s getting desperate. Good.

The idea of abandoning Dunwall, abandoning Sabrina, doesn’t sit well with David either, but there’s no sacrifice too great when it came to Anthony’s safety. She would understand.

Unless the right steps are taken...but David has not a clue what steps are even available right now, let alone which of them would lead to survival.

Was bringing Alexandria Hypatia back to base with them a mistake? Delilah may not be doing much to combat the plague herself, but she is providing the resources for others to do so, even if it is just for keeping up appearances. And this Hypatia really seems like she might hold the cure that saves Dunwall. She could certainly continue her work in Draper’s Ward, but it wasn’t like Jerome could provide her with the same arsenal she has at her disposal here.

Or-what if she needs to be with her uncle? What if that’s what allows her to stumble across a cure?

Maybe Hypatia had nothing to do with the cure. Maybe it all hinges on another choice David made, one he couldn’t anticipate causing the problems it will. Or maybe it has nothing to do with him at all.

Fuck, if the black-eyed bastard could see all the paths and destinations, it would help if He told David where to turn.

Why couldn’t He give David, like, actual information? Even Sabrina’s half-stoned predictions were more helpful than the black-eyed bastard’s ramblings. He wasted all that time babbling about those murderers-why did He even bring them up? They have nothing to do with this. And David would rather not entertain the thought of them until he had to. It served no purpose but to raise his blood pressure and distract him from his mission. He’d deal with them in time. Later, when Anthony is on his throne and everyone he cares about is safe.

He’ll hunt them down...no. He’ll fantasize about it later. For now, he has s**t to do.

‘I see...the Captain at the Helm. Hypatia sees the Tusked Leviathan.’ Sabrina’s voice almost startles him. She’s been unnaturally quiet since her breakdown earlier, but now her voice is lighter. He can almost imagine her smiling, pointing to the sky. ‘What do you see in the stars?’

David looks up. Normally, the lights of Dunwall would make it impossible to see the stars until the sky was nearly black. But tonight, even though the sun is still melting into the water and casting its orange light over the city, there’s a glow from beyond the heavens. Faint, but visible.

Anthony has studied astronomy, more out of pure curiosity than any need. He knows what the stars and various celestial bodies are made of, how they were formed and how they move in relation to their world. David never f*****g understood any of it. Sabrina had taught herself to read star charts and could name what seemed like hundreds of different constellations, fantasizing about the sailing career she would never get to have. David never got how she could identify one particular star from another, among the thousands in the sky. They swim in front of his eyes and he could lose himself in them, if he allowed it.

He can’t afford that. He has to go meet Joan. But…

Soon. Joan is still making her way down the bridge. He has some time until he has to go to her. Not enough time to get lost, but enough to wander.

David takes a seat on the blue tiled roof, brushing away the dead leaves and ignoring the cold seeping into his pants. He takes Sabrina into his hands and leans back, looks up. And together they watch the stars.

‘This bridge used to be popular among poets and lovers,’ Sabrina remarks grimly as David guides Melusine through the water. ‘But with the advent of the plague, it has gained a darker reputation. Aristocrats and beggars, the healthy and the sick, all types gather and leap from its girders.’

He feels like there would be easier methods. A fall from the decking into the water wouldn’t be fatal, though there are a number of hagfish present. It would work if you climbed one of the towers, but there were plenty of tall buildings around Dunwall to throw yourself off of. Accomplish the same goal and much more accessible. If your goal was to drown, you could pick any spot on the Wrenhaven to sink yourself.

Firearms were also ridiculously common. Easy. Antagonizing the Watch would work. Though if David chose to, if he failed again and Anthony lost his life, he’d use his sword. Maybe that was cheesy, but it was the only method that felt right and fair. It would hurt. That was fine.

But then David shakes his head. What the f**k is wrong with him?

He docks Melusine under one of the bridge’s arches, pulling up his hood when he sees he’s not the only occupant. A man in a brown tweed coat leans against the wall, smoking, probably waiting to give a guard a ride home considering he’s not even trying to hide his curfew-breaking. He waves to David as he steps out of the boat. David gives a half-hearted wave back to keep him placated and turns his head as he walks away. Tweed-man looks old and is probably too far away to see his face, but just in case.

He sidesteps loose bricks and crumbled drywall as he ascends the steps, wrinkling his nose. Looking up, many of the buildings in this area are falling apart. Now why the f**k would that be? People were dying of plague, not earthquakes or regular bombings. As far as he knew, buildings couldn’t get sick.

Unless they were falling down due to lack of upkeep. What i***t engineer designed these houses then, if they’re literally crumbling to the ground after a few months of disrepair? This just reinforces his theory that Kaldwin was an i***t who liked to waste his money on useless things. Why was a bridge like this necessary? How was the amount of manpower needed to maintain it justifiable?

“Did you hear that?!”

David immediately ducks down, but Void Gaze shows him that there’s no guards nearby. There are three-no, two living people up top. Standing in what looks like a cage.

“Keep your voice down!” A female voice responds. “I heard. But what am I supposed to do about it?” she asks flippantly.

The front of the cage is unbarred, though on further concentration, David sees a whale oil port and a wiring panel off to the side. A wall of light, then. He can’t wait until Anthony bans those too.

“Don’t you get it?! We’re gonna die.” The man in the cage begins pacing, while his female companion just leans against the wall and watches. “That crazy Hypatia b***h is going to do some witch-doctor s**t to us! We have to get out!”

“Shh! You know better than to mention the W-word! If you have a plan, then I am happy to hear it.”

“Poor bastards.”

Without warning, David hauls back and punches Joan flat in the mouth.

“Fucking...goddammit, Catspaw.” David shakes his head as Joan removes her mask. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. You’re just unobservant as fuck.” Joan gingerly touches her already reddening lip.

David highly doubts that, but he just sighs and reaches out to brush her hair away, get a better look at the mark he left. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve had worse.” Though she winces when his finger brushes over the skin. “Seriously, David, quit mothering me.”

That’s not at all what he’s doing, but he drops it anyways.

“How was your trip over here?” he asks in a whisper, guiding them both further down the steps, away from the guard presence. “You don’t look any worse for wear. I take it you didn’t run into any trouble?”

“Kept above their heads, mostly. You’ll be happy to know I didn’t pick any fights.” She rolls her eyes. “Even though some of them really deserved it.”

“I thought we went over this.”

“We did. And I listened. Seriously, I had a Bottle Street fucker trick me into breaking him out of a cell only to have his buddies jump me. Coulda killed them all, but I just sleep-darted both his friends and put the fear of the Outsider into the guy.”

David folds his arms, nodding along. “They didn’t hurt you?”

Joan shakes her head. “Nah, I knew something was up and got above them. Two darts, told jailbreak-dude that if he ever pulled that s**t again I’d find him and break both his legs before dumping him in the river. Then I tossed him in a dumpster and left him crying for his mother.” She huffs. “I hate that s**t, you know? Preying on good people. If you’re gonna f**k someone’s s**t up, f**k up someone who deserves it.”

“Good. Anything else to report?”

“Uh, I saved one lady who was hobo-ing it up in a rat nest basement. And I nabbed some of those bone things you’re obsessed with.” She pops open one of her pockets, showing them off. “That’s about it. Am I done with the baby monitoring, dad?”

David resists rolling his eyes, glancing out at the water. “You didn’t kill anyone, right?”

“He was dead when I got there.”

His head snaps to the side. “Catspaw.”

“I’m serious!” She raises her hands. “That Pratchett eels dude, looks like he jumped off his top balcony.”

David groans. “When I said keep your blade clean, I meant it metaphorically.”

“Yeah, and so did I!” She folds her arms. “I’m not lying to you, David, he was lying there dead when I came up on his house. Probably offed himself. I would too, if my claim to fame was canned eels.” She shrugs. “I will admit, I robbed his house blind. But I would of done that anyway.”

He can never tell whether Joan’s lying to him or not. But there’s really no way to verify it now.

“So what’s the deal with Sokolov’s place?” David gestures. “You been able to do any reconnaissance?”

“A bit, but we’ll get into that in a minute. These fuckers,” Joan leans in, lowering her voice even more. “Are rounding up healthy-ass people for Hypatia to experiment on. Dress-dude’s pretty little niece is killing people with the plague.”

David nods. “And? How else is she supposed to conduct her research?”

Joan sputters. “Experimenting on citizens, David! Killing civilians?”

“If a cure isn’t found, they’ll be dead anyway.” David motions to the cage. “But this way, maybe everyone else won’t be.”

“Are you f*****g kidding me?”

“Have you ever heard of ‘the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few’, Catspaw?” David leans back on his heels. “Or ‘shelving hard decisions is the least ethical-’”

“I can’t believe you’re saying it’s okay to experiment on people!”

“I’m not-” David tips his head back and exhales through his nose. “I’m not saying it’s right,” he says in a harsh whisper. “But-look at our situation here. We can do what needs to be done, or we can keep our hands clean and let everyone die of the plague. Those are our options. We can’t do this the right way because there is no right way.”

“Did the Empress allow this s**t?”

She waits. David presses his lips together and stares back.

Joan scoffs and turns away. “Knew it. Of course you wouldn’t go against something she-”

“Don’t you f*****g finish that sentence. If you dare insult your Empress, Catspaw-”

“You’ll what? You’ll kill me?” Joan rolls back her shoulders and watches him down the tip of her nose. “She’s not even my goddamn Empress even more. She’s dead. And she clearly didn’t stand for people like me when she made that decision.”

“She was trying to save people like you! You think it was an easy decision?”

“Oh, sorry. I totally didn’t think about how some rich lady up in her tower might feel a little sad about literally murdering people.”

“It was a last resort. They weren’t even doing it yet when I left. She just...authorized it if all other avenues failed.” His breath shudders as it comes out. “She did it for Dunwall.”

Whether there is indeed another way, a better way, that David doesn’t know. But, feeling the hilt of his blade and thinking of all the blood that’s seeped into the metal, he thinks that he cannot possibly be the judge of that.

“These guards are acting like they’re animals.” Joan motions. “Overheard one of them calling them all pigs. Who cares about pigs going to slaughter? Not even human to them.”

“They’re trying to justify it to themselves.”

“Pfft. If you do shitty things, you don’t get to hide from it.” Joan kicks a pebble.

He’d like to ask her what was so different about her drinking habit, if it wasn’t about muting her thoughts and hiding from her conscience. David and Joan do plenty of horrible s**t. Necessary horrible s**t. He doubts she likes confronting it either.

But he gets what she’s saying. It was a dangerous slope to be on. But there was no other way to climb this mountain.

David sighs and, making sure his hood is secure, Blinks away.

Joan is by his side in a moment, crouching on the splintered wood of the second-story floor. “What are we doing now?”

“Don’t you want to free them?”

He gives nothing away in his face, but Joan looks relieved. For a moment, at least, until she slips her mask back on.

“There’s three guards patrolling the block.”

“We’ll take them out. Without killing them, Catspaw.” David cracks his neck. “You might think they’re bad people, but I guarantee you, they think the same about us.”

Joan turns to him, but simply stares for a long moment. “f**k, David, you’re some sort of philosopher bullshitter or something.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”

“I don’t know either.”

Joan falls on one of the guards and slams his forehead into the ground, probably giving him one hell of a concussion. She waves their little bottle of poppy tincture in front of his face (their only one, currently, as David’s was destroyed in the slaughterhouse explosion and Jerome was still distilling another batch-David did promise her the next bottle) and the man’s out. She creeps up on another while his back is turns and chokes him out, puts him to sleep. David Blinks down the street until he’s in position to put a sleep dart in the officer’s neck. They dump the unconscious bodies in the foyer of a nearby apartment building that doesn’t look particularly rat-infested.

Then David pulls his scarf over his nose. The top half of his scar is still visible, but with the shadows of his hood, it isn’t terribly obvious. Have to be good enough. David had refused the whaler mask Jerome pushed at him. He’s never covered his face. He tolerates the hood, the scarves and the handkerchiefs over his mouth, but that’s it. Never a mask.

Joan positions herself in front of the cage as David yanks out the tank powering the wall of light. The ex-subjects look up, startled, when it suddenly powers down and Joan steps forward.

“I take it he-” She motions to the crumbled corpse in the corner. “-is beyond saving, but you f***s probably have some living you want to get done.”

“I…” The woman gapes like a fish, her hands clutched to her chest. “I don’t know who you are, or why you’re doing this…”

“Lady, are you mad?” The man hisses. “That’s the Crown Killer! She probably just wants to kill us herself!”

Joan pretends to pick her fingernails. “No thanks, I’m good. Already ate dinner.”

The woman shakes her head and steps forward. “I don’t care who you are. Thank you. Listen, I used to work here-the building that used to stand here.” She points up to the tower of peeling drywall and collapsing floors behind them. “There’s a safe behind a painting on the third floor. I can give you the code.”

“I didn’t help you for the money. But I won’t complain.” Joan c***s her head in David’s direction. “Come on. My friend and I will get you out of here.”

They all follow David, who leads them down to the docks. It’s only when he selects a decent rowboat left unattended and ushers them in that he dares to speak.

“Head upriver.” David points. “South of here is nothing but death. Stay away from the Watch.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice…” The man rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“My brother and his husband live near the old distillery,” the woman tells her companion. “That’s where I’m going. You’re welcome to come, if you keep your trap shut.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the boss. I get it.”

The woman looks up at Joan, the oar laying across her lap. “Are you...really the Crown Killer?”

“How about I just say it’s complicated and leave it at that?”

“Hmm. Well, assassin or not, you’re one of the good ones.” She tips an imaginary hat. “Thank you. I hope I never cross paths with either of you again.”

“Same, lady.”

“Good luck.” David’s voice is small, but he’s still sure she heard him.

The woman locks eyes with him once as they begin to drift, then she immediately starts admonishing her companion. “No, pick up a damn oar. I’m not rowing both of us all the way to the Distillery District.”

“You’re a damn slave driver. Fine.”

They Blink away, Joan going to loot the safe, but David keeps an eye on their little boat until they disappear into the night.

Sokolov’s safehouse looks like a goddamn greenhouse, all glass and slanted roofs. Joan steers him to a rooftop overlooking the front door, wedged in between two taller buildings. They kneel and peer over the ridge, watching a Watch officer and an Overseer stand guard.

“I’m not asking to know what’s going on up there,” the guard scoffs, turning and walking towards the Overseer. “I was just asking if you’ve heard the screams too.”

The entrance is flagged by two long green banners, eerily familiar. David uses his spyglass and zeros in on the sigil. A bleeding heart flower, crossed with thorns.

‘You’d think an artist of her level would realize that red against green never works,’ Sabrina remarks dryly.

David realizes that this must be Delilah’s banner. The Kaldwin family has their own sigil, their banners a soft teal with double swans and their coat of arms. Apparently this wasn’t good enough for Delilah. She needed her own.

He much prefers the refined dark red of the Stark sigil, the orca done up in black and white circling a golden crown. More tasteful. And Sabrina looked good in red.

“Of course I’ve heard them.” The Overseer stands with his hands behind his back, looking everywhere but his Watch companion. “I would be more worried if there were no screams.”

“What’s that, a riddle? Okay, I’ll bite. Why would no screams worry you more?”

The Overseer sighs melodramatically. “Because, it is our job to look after Hypatia and ensure she continues her work. The screams are evidence that she is continuing her work. Thus, the screams are evidence that I have done my job.”

What the f**k were they doing to these Overseers over in Whitecliff, leaving them with no sort of empathy or emotion? David would assume they were all drugged out of their minds if he hadn’t inspected Overseer outposts himself in the past.

“...Our job.” The guard’s voice shakes. “The...screams are evidence that we have done our job.”

The Overseer turns to him, his mask betraying nothing. “You know, guardsman? I don’t care for you very much.”

David and Joan turn to each other, and it’s only when Joan adopts a low voice and whispers “buuuuurn” that David starts laughing into his sleeve.

“Okay, so-” He has to pause as a stray giggle passes his lips. “So tell me what you know about the safehouse.”

Joan swallows the last of her chuckles and scoots closer. “I wasn’t watching it that long, but it looks like a pretty tough nut to crack. Set it up like a fortress. No windows, or I guess the entire thing is a window. But even if we could break the glass, the slats are all metal. And even I’m not skinny enough to shimmy through those.”

“There’s an exterior door up on the roof,” David says, honing in on it with his spyglass.

“Yeah, that’s the greenhouse, I think. I don’t know if you can get downstairs from there.”

“If not, there should be another door with roof access.” David closes the spyglass and tucks it back into his coat. “Any obvious points of entry, besides the roof?”

“The front door.”

“Besides the place where twenty guards will be stationed, Catspaw.”

“You see down there?” Joan stretches over the ridge and points down to the water wheel. “Supposedly there’s an entrance to the wine cellar behind there. Some bozo got himself crushed swimming under the wheel, trying to steal the vintage I guess. Probably not even locked. Normal people can’t get in there without dying, apparently.”

The odd exterior of the safehouse had worried him at first-a detriment to invaders with abilities like David’s, and he wondered if the safehouse was specifically fortified against magic users. But while there’s an Overseer present, he doesn’t have a music box strapped to his chest. The buildings around the safehouse are perfect for Blinking and spying.

Of course, that could be intentional too. For Delilah’s witches to come check in on Hypatia’s progress.

He looks down, his eyes aglow. “That floodlight will give us away. There’s a team of guards right below us, watching the water.”

“f**k, seriously? Well, I guess it’s good you got that creepy-eyes power.”

David takes hold of her hand, picking up the nearest piece of crumbled brick. “We’ll have to be quick. We’re passing right in front of those two at the door, and the guards will only be distracted for a second.”

“I can be quick.” Joan nods to herself.

David waits until the Overseer at the front entrance has turned to look over the river, the guard facing the stairs. He throws the brick over his shoulder and listens for it to land, watches the guards below. When they startle and turn to the noise, they move.

David pulls Joan out of sight as soon as they’re past the water wheel, flattening them both against the wall. Joan giggles, a bit too loud for David’s comfort.

“f**k, being sneaky is almost as much of a rush as killing people!”

He checks the guards. They’ve already settled back into their posts. Didn’t see a thing. “Glad you’re having fun.”

True to Joan’s prediction, the door to the wine cellar is unlocked. Joan fawns over the barrels as David surveys the floor above them with Void Gaze.

“Now, this is my kind of mission,” she says, running her gloves over the labels. “Booze and chicks. Two of my favorite things.”

“You’re not drinking on the job, Joan.” He can’t quite make sense of his Gaze. He can see people and s**t, but it all seems weirdly...bare. No walls.

“f*****g spoilsport,” Joan grumbles, but he does spy her slipping one bottle into her coat. Fine. He supposes she deserves it. But if she falls on it or something, David reserves the right to make fun of her while he’s stuck picking glass shards out of her side.

David shuts off Void Gaze. “Stick close to me. We’re going to have to get up on the pipes.”

They jump and scale the security railing instead of climbing the second half of the stairs, quickly Blinking to the pipeline that stretches down the wall. The ground floor was indeed weirdly bare-completely open, half of the floor seemingly unfinished. The actual apartment appears to be above them.

There’s...a lot of rats scurrying around. Not swarm-worthy amounts, but close.  But David shakes his head. There are rats everywhere in Dunwall. It’s hardly relevant to their mission.

There’s a staircase right above the one they came in on, but they’d surely be spotted. Really, if someone was on the landing right now, they’d just have to turn to see David and Joan crouching right there. David’s eyes sweep over the room as he shuffles down the pipe.

Furniture dumped all over the asphalt floor, strange machines and tables with all sorts of wires and knobs and junk. David realizes that this is all of Sokolov’s old stuff. Moved down here, but not thrown away. As if Delilah planned on Sokolov returning.

Well, whoever’s s**t it is, none of it seems to provide good hiding spots.

“I don’t give a s**t,” one officer says, standing by a display case. “Hypatia never leaves the safehouse. And I will never get a squad that doesn’t question my every order.”

David grimaces as he hears their words echo. This place is too empty, too bare to be any good swallowing up sound. He won’t be able to talk to Joan without the guards overhearing.

A guard examining Sokolov’s table of doodads nods, stroking his chin. “I understand that, sir, but…” He stands up straight, walking towards his superior. “It’s just that the other night she went missing, and I still don’t see how she got out.”

Ah, so another escape artist then? Just like his Sabrina. He can’t blame her-blame either of them. He’d die if he was stifled up like this.

“Maybe we’re not clear on this. If anyone asks, the young lady never leaves the grounds unless it’s on official business for the Lady Regent.”

“Don’t you find it odd, though?” A third guard approaches, hands held out to the side. “Two squads round-the-clock to watch one woman?”

“She’s developing a plague cure, cadet.” The officer rubs his face.

“Yeah, but so are about three dozen other assholes at the Academy. I just don’t get what’s so special about Miss Hypatia. Er, Doctor Hypatia…”

The officer crosses the floor in a few short steps and seizes the guard by his shirt collar. “If someone questions it, just tell them that the Regent will have us flayed alive if anything happens to her!”

Is Hypatia one of Delilah’s lovers? It would certainly explain how heavily she’s guarded, despite Delilah investing very minimal effort into combating the plague. Obviously cares for her more than she ever did Sabrina.

“You saw those gallows she put up in front of the Tower,” the first guard says, his eyes wide. “Piss her off and you’ll find yourself up there right quick. Do you really want to end up like those Overseers? Like David?”

“David deserved it,” the other guard scoffs. “Did you guys ever meet the Empress? She was real cool. Could imagine hanging out and smoking a blunt with her.”

“The Empress was a goddamn b***h,” the officer mutters, fingering his mustache. “But she actually gave a damn. And she didn’t deserve what came to her.”

David turns back to Joan, pointing to the pipe and then making a circular motion, indicating they’ll need to go around. Fortunately, Joan seems to understand, and she just nods.

The pipe only extends to the next wall, so he and Joan have to drop to the floor and weave through iron columns and under giant tanks in order to cross the room. Thankfully, there’s another pipe set up against the wall perpendicular to the entrance, higher than the scaffolding around them. It’s no trouble at all to Blink up there.

Right away, David can spot two different points of entry that would have made their lives significantly easier. There’s a square cut out of the slats, right over the front door, and another one leading to what looks like the roof. He is so taking Joan off reconnaissance duty.

The Joan in question Blinks to the top of the...roof, it looks like, of the apartment proper. She looks at him oddly with her hands outstretched, but David takes a minute to survey the ground floor. Three guards and one Overseer, this one with a music box. No, four guards, including the one descending the stairs right under him. Probably more in the apartment.

...There’s trash everywhere. Rat droppings and scuff marks littering the floor. This place is a goddamn mess.

Sokolov’s dumping ground looks like if you crossed Jerome’s workshop with Delilah’s office during one of her painting binges. Ugh, just the memory of the smell of her paints is enough to turn his stomach. He can’t believe he left Sabrina alone with her. She liked watching Delilah paint. And he was stupid enough to think she was safe, alone in the Spymaster’s office.

David takes out his spyglass and zooms in on the painting set up on the easel. The backside of a woman, blonde hair pinned up in a bun. Yeah, that’s what he thought he saw. It takes a moment to focus in on the title of the painting, inscripted on the bottom of the frame. The Obtuse Arguments of Lady Boyle.

Ick.

Was that Lydia, or one of her sisters? He’d have enough trouble telling them apart even if he saw the face, though he does feel by now that he could distinguish Lydia even from her twin. White pantsuit-Lydia seems to favor black clothing. All three Boyle sisters have that same shade of blonde hair, and it’s pinned up so he can’t even judge by length. Lydia’s hair, in the rare moments she lets it down, is actually quite long.

Should he bring it up? Ask her if she knew Anton Sokolov painted a picture of her ass and that it’s displayed in the basement of his house? Ugh. Dozens of men would have seen it. David finds it creepy.

Joan is angrily motioning him over, so David pockets the spyglass and Blinks up to the roof.

Then nearly tumbles over into the dining room.

There is no roof. Just wall and about eight feet of empty space above it. Joan has to grab the back of his jacket to keep him from falling on top a maid clearing off the table below.

He internally rolls his eyes over the design as he and Joan walk the tightrope that is the top of the wall. This was definitely modern architecture. Airy. Cool. It would make sense in a place like Karnaca.

Dunwall is cold. High ceilings just allow all the heat to escape. He disliked the Tower for that reason, but Dunwall Tower had thick walls and was well-insulated enough that cold didn’t seep in as easily. It was still chilly in the wintertime, but not freezing. With partial walls like this, no amount of hearths and stoves would keep these rooms warm.

Though it actually wasn’t that cold in here. Maybe that was the reason for the weird slat-glass exterior of the house, allow the sun to heat the place. Everyone was still going to freeze their balls off as soon as night hit, though.

Dining room. Kitchen, second maid. Hallway with one guard patrolling. Security room, both entrances covered by walls of light, which would be more effective if the tops weren’t all open like this was a damn dollhouse. No Hypatia. David has no idea what the woman actually looks like-he just looks for someone looking like they’re doing medicinal stuff. Would be either her or Vasco.

Should they take Vasco back to base with them as well? He doesn’t have any sad uncles waiting for him, but he’s a kid. Just a year older than his Anthony. David doesn’t want to leave him in Delilah’s clutches. Especially if she’s angered over Hypatia’s disappearance.

He looks up and-Joan is gone. David whips his head around, but she’s not on top of any of the walls.

Fuck, she’s like Sabrina was when she was a kid. Blink and they’re off. David had to threaten to attach a leash to her belt to get her to stay in his sight while in public. Can’t exactly attach a leash to Joan. Not easily, at least.

Well, finding Joan now is at least easier than finding Sabrina when she slipped off. David feels around for her using the Bond and finds her not fifteen feet away, behind another wall. Looks like a study of some sort. Ah, he sees the entrance. A few steps up from the security room, a covered walkway. Sure enough, that’s where Joan materializes a minute later. She gestures for him to follow her.

They Blink down and hide under the staircase in the security room, waiting for the one guard present to wander out.

Then Joan turns to him, pulling up her mask so she can whisper without her filter getting in the way. “This place is weird. I don’t understand rich people.”

David shakes his head. “I’ve been saying that for years.”

“I mean, I’ve been in the Tower. Too fancy-shmancy for my tastes, but at least the freaking walls make sense.” She shrugs.

“What did you find back there?”

“Library. And a lab in the next room over. I don’t f*****g know where they sleep, but Vasco’s in there working on s**t. Didn’t see Hypatia.”

He checks the room with Void Gaze, but he can’t see that far. “How do you know it was Vasco?”

“I mean, he’s a brown dude. We got two targets so I made a smart guess as to which one he is.”

“An educated guess, Elizabeth.”

“...You’re purposely trying to sound like Trimble aren’t you?”

David can’t hold in his smile, and he looks away. Joan punches him in the arm.

“Quit it. Seriously, if you turn into Trimble I’m obligated to put you out of my misery.”

“Sorry. I meant you’re sure it’s Vasco and not a test subject?” David lets his smile drop.

Joan makes a face. “Looked like he was doing something with beakers and s**t. I dunno, he wasn’t wearing a nametag.”

Sabrina would know for sure. She’s been rather quiet, but David knows she’s always at his fingertips.

“So how do you want to do this?” He asks, leaning in. “Do you want to confront him now, or wait and see if Hypatia is willing to work with us?”

Joan bites her lip. “I don’t know. Honestly, either way I don’t think we should leave him here.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Yeah, Kaldwin’s going to be right pissed.” Joan nods. “I kinda want to get to him while he’s still alone, but Dress-man’s niece is the priority here. I don’t want to risk her getting hurt if s**t gets started.”

That was...incredibly mature thinking, coming from Joan. David nods and glances up. “So you want to split up, talk to them one-on-one?”

“If that sounds…”

They shut their mouths and press themselves against the wall as another guard strolls in, whistling a tune. David keeps a sleep dart ready just in case, but the guard wanders out again without even looking in their direction.

“If that sounds good to you,” Joan picks up again. “I can talk to Vasco. You should probably talk to Hypatia-even if you f**k that up, we’re for sure taking her back anyway. We’ll be able to question her again.”

“Are you implying I won’t be able to question her efficiently?”

“David, you’re cool and all, but you are a s**t interrogator.”

Hypatia must be in the greenhouse, they figure, so David doubles back. There was that one exit point onto the roof, at the other end of the building. He could get up there easily, then it was just a matter of checking for-

“Up here, lieutenant.”

David stops and crouches as a maid steps into the hallway. She motions to follow, her heels clicking together. A Watch officer steps into view.

A female Watch officer.

David blinks. The long red hair woven into a braid, the thin nose and smattering of light freckles. He knows her. He knows her. But where?

“Do you want Lady Alexandria to meet you down here, or…”

Then the woman holds up her hand. Opens her mouth. And David knows.

“No, don’t bother her. I’m just here to inspect her security measures.”

He recognizes that voice. The same high and sickly-sweet voice that sang to him, strumming a guitar.

It’s the girl from his dream.

She has company: a dusty-skinned man with pointed ears in a Lower Guard uniform, and a barrel-chested Overseer sans music box. They squeeze in behind her, shuffling into the dining room. The maid continues to stand at the doorway.

“So, I suppose I’ll leave you to it, then.” She fidgets with her apron. “Lieutenant, um…”

“Foster,” the woman says. “Lieutenant Foster. Just go about your duties, ma’am. We should be out of your hair within the hour.”

The maid curtsies and scurries away as fast as her little ballet flats can take her.

“An hour?” The Lower Guard groans, flopping onto a chair. “We have to be here that long?”

David almost worries for the guard’s life, but he’s cut off by Lieutenant Foster scoffing. “Why bother? We’ll slip out during the diversion. Fuckers probably won’t even remember us.”

“Can I start the fire this time?”

“Didn’t you want to try out one of those howling bombs you made?”

“Are you sure that attracting attention to ourselves is the wisest course of action?” The Overseer rocks on his feet, his voice husky and his accent heavily Morlean. “Might I remind you that, if my brothers discover who I am, they will kill us all?”

Lieutenant Foster is already at the bookshelf, running her fingers along the spines. “They won’t know s**t. Guards are stupid f***s, like flies caught in the light.”

“I’ll just feel much better once we’re out of here.”

“Then shut the f**k up and help me look, you dingdong.”

“Calm your t**s, Lee.” The guard stands up, holding his hands out to his side. “They’ll kill us if they find out who we are too, and we don’t get to hide behind masks!”

His accent is also distinctly non-Dunwall. Serkonan, definitely. Karnacan? Rulfio and Rinaldo have similar accents, but they’ve been away from Karnaca for nearly half their lives. Accents fade.

David leans in closer. These guys are clearly not actually Watch officers. Lieutenant-smart role to play. High enough in the order that most guards won’t question her, but also not high enough for her name to be well-known. But who was she, then?

Sabrina comes alive in his hands, almost startling him off the wall.

‘Oh, what are you doing, you silly girl?’ The smile in her voice is evident. ‘Getting into trouble, as always. My sweet Deirdre.’

David stares, slackjawed.

This was Deirdre? Sabrina’s Deirdre? But...she…

“Check the cabinets, fuckos.” Deirdre says, standing on her tiptoes to read the higher shelves. “Said it’d be in here.”

She’s supposed to be dead! That’s what David had always thought, anyways, though he never said it to Sabrina’s face. Sabrina had tried to find her. The Emperor even had Martin try his hand at tracking this girl down. Had sketches done- that’s why she looked so familiar then, he just didn’t recognize her all grown up-and had the Watch keep an eye out for her. Sabrina had wanted to bring her to the Tower. Give her friend everything they didn’t have on the streets.

And this girl, Deirdre never came forward. Let David think she was dead on the streets. Let Sabrina die not knowing what had happened to her.

And for what? To pursue a life of crime, apparently. b***h.

“Okay, I can’t reach this shit.” Deirdre points her thumb back. “Lee? You wanna give it a try?”

“Oh, I see how it is.” The guard-impersonator puts his hands on his hips as the Overseer- Lee steps forward. “You love me when you need someone to kill a guard without getting blood on their uniform, but when it comes to doing manly s**t, you ask-”

“Paolo, you’re like, two feet tall.” Deirdre deadpans.

A scandalized noise emits from Paolo’s mouth. “I am at a perfectly normal height!”

Lee speaks in an incredibly bored tone. “You are a literal midget.”

“Says the giant.”

“You’re only proving yourself to be an imbecile of the highest order.”

“Well...you’re a bag of d***s!”

“Oh my god.” Deirdre holds her hands to her temples. “Just f**k each other already and get it over with.”

“That is disgusting and I am insulted you had the indecency to say it.”

“Get f****d, you’re not fooling anyone in here.” Deirdre rolls her eyes. “This team might as well be called the flat and the fairies.”

...This woman could never meet Joan.

They rifle through drawers and shelves in silence, and David watches them curiously. He has to get to Hypatia, he knows. But he has so many questions. He takes Sabrina out in the hopes that she might hold some answers.

‘She’s spent so many years angry,’ Sabrina says when he aims her at Deirdre’s back. ‘Now she regrets the time they could have spent together. She’s forgiven. And...hopes she can be as well.’

What the f**k was she mad at Sabrina for? For not being able to find her after that street fight? For having an Emperor’s blood flowing through her veins? Sabrina tried to find her.

Apparently, Deirdre didn’t care to be found.

Who were her companions though? What were they looking for, cure research? The only criminal he knows of that would care is Slackjaw, so are they working for him? How did an Overseer end up in Bottle Street?

‘Ambition. That is what I sense in him. He could have been High Overseer one day.’ Sabrina laughs. ‘He sees the Outsider’s influence everywhere. Only lately has he considered that there are greater evils that threaten the people of the Empire.’

There really isn’t. And f**k if this is the day where David finds himself agreeing with Overseers.

Deirdre turns, grabbing a fig from a bowl in the middle of dining table and digging her thumb into the middle. She pops a piece into her mouth and tears apart the rest, scattering it on the floor. Paolo tosses a loose pen at her and tells her to quit feeding the rats.

The Serkonan boy, he can understand how he got twisted up in this more easily than the other two. Most Karnacan immigrants to Dunwall end up in the gangs, or occasionally as house servants. But he aims Sabrina at him just in case.

‘He’s clever. Someone who gets things done.’ Sabrina sounds appreciative. ‘Can be vicious, but there is a heart under there. Care for the common people. And a love for his best friend.’

He assumes that’s Deirdre, though Sabrina doesn’t sound especially jealous when she says it. Was this cruel? Asking Sabrina to crack open her friend’s skull and peer into her thoughts?

Sabrina doesn’t protest it, but David figures he should still put the Talisman away.

Deirdre stands up, fingers at her collar and her teeth worrying her lip. David goes to squeeze, to let the Talisman disappear into smoke.

‘I promise, I’ll make this all right.’

Deirdre gasps. Something pink falls from her fingers, jangling on a silver chain around her neck. And then her head snaps up, right to where David is crouching.

David wastes not a moment. He Blinks to the opposite wall before Deirdre’s eyes have fully settled on him.

“What?” Paolo stands up and turns around. “Dee? You alright? You saw something?”

Deirdre is silent. David’s hands shakes as he waits. But then she shakes her head.

“No, sorry. Guess I’m still f****d up. Was up all night-”

“Hello!” The group jumps to attention as a dark-skinned man strolls in, the blue of his coat complimenting the purple blotch that stretches across his left cheek and eye. “I’m Hypatia’s assistant. She’s a little busy at the moment, so she can’t come down to talk.”

Shit. Well, looks like Joan is going to have to wait to have her chat.

“Oh. That’s fine,” Deirdre says, her stiff accent taking over. “We don’t need to meet with her, or you really, you can...do you need some ice for your face or something…?”

Vasco shakes his head, his smile still pasted on. “Took a spill in the lab, earlier this week. You know how it is. I’m a bit of klutz!”

David slips out, crouching down on the rooftop. He’s still clutching Sabrina in his hands, too afraid to try and put her away, lest she comment again. And Deirdre hears her again.

“Do you mind explaining some things to me?” David asks in a harsh whisper. He almost adds ‘young lady’ at the end because he knows that pisses her off, but he refrains.

Sabrina is quiet. David grits his teeth and tries again.

“How is she alive? I saw her on that boat. She was there.”

‘As were you,’ she states calmly. ‘And is your heart not beating?’

That’s...true. Whether he likes it or not, he still wakes and moves and his blood is still warm in his veins. Despite the world’s best efforts, David is still alive.

But he shouldn’t be.

‘We are all of us caught between worlds. We dip our toes into the Void, only to be snatched away from the waters.’

So that was it? They were all supposed to be dead. He can’t say for Deirdre, or Sokolov, but David can agree with that judgement. He was supposed to be executed over a month ago. And the explosion, that fall, it should have killed him. It was only some weird anomaly that he was still alive. That they were all still alive.

Well, Sabrina is dead. But she is still trapped between worlds, in her own way.

“What were you trying to tell me?” David whispers, his lips close to the Talisman’s surface. “Why us three, specifically?”

‘I am the captain at the helm. I choose who boards my ship.’

“But you’re not...” He wets his mouth, trying to make sense of it in his head. “You’re not with them. You’re with me. We’re...”

‘You hold the beating heart of my essence. But my revival has left tears in this reality. Hollow places, people and objects, where my voice echoes through the cracks.’

David swallows. “So when you speak to me, they can hear you?”

‘No. I speak to all of you.’

David is quiet. Then he breathes out. Lets the Talisman disappear into smoke.

He needs to get what he came here for.

There’s one lone guard patrolling the walkway around the greenhouse. Watching the sunset. Not paying even a lick of attention. Why would he worry, when his post is seventy feet in the air? David fires a single sleep dart into his forehead and he flops against the railing.

He finds, yanking the empty dart out of the man’s head, that with every person he passes over, every life he spares, that voice is getting dimmer. The voice that asks him why he’s bothering, when his only goal is to eliminate potential threats. That killing them would accomplish the same end.

Good. Maybe one day, that voice will be silent. David almost laughs as the thought.

“I now turn my hopes to Formula 25, which has...potential, when used in conjunction with high heat therapy…”

Hypatia is too absorbed in her audio recording to even notice the door open, David slipping in and shutting it gently behind him. He crouches behind rows of planter boxes, peering at Hypatia’s back and her wispy, shoulder-length brown hair.

They’re alone in the greenhouse, aside from a woman in a cage at the far end, which David saw earlier through Void Gaze. The woman doesn’t stir, laying on a cot with a blanket thrown over her, but she’s alive. At the moment, at least.

“The high temperature should...hmm...what was it…” The sound of fluttering papers, Hypatia paging through her notes. “I wrote it down somewhere. I...can’t remember exactly what it did to the alkaline properties, but after the failure of Formula 12-17, the idea occurred to me…”

David slips closer, watching Hypatia carefully. She’s not a large woman, but not a small one either. His height, no, slightly taller. He hopes he doesn’t end up having to carry her out.

‘Is she a prisoner?’ Sabrina asks. ‘She feels trapped here, like she is under a microscope.’

Anyone would, with all these guards watching her every move.

“Studying Anton Sokolov’s notes, and more recently experimenting with Piero’s version of the elixir, I’m...close to something.” Hypatia turns, tapping her lip. “If only the Regent allowed me to return to the Academy, consult with my colleagues, I’m sure they could make advances where I’ve stalled. Vasco has been a godsend, but even his presence can’t make up for the black-outs…”

She shakes her head, running a hand through her hair.

“And every time it happens, whether I lose a few hours or a few days, that’s progress lost. Could I have finished the cure by now, if I could keep my thoughts straight? Every setback means lives lost.” She sighs. “Subject 312 continues to deteriorate at the expected pace. She should pass by mid-morning tomorrow, at the latest.”

There’s a click, and the punchcard rolls out. Hypatia makes a few notes while David creeps up behind her, wondering how exactly to initiate this. His scarf is up, so she won’t recognize him, but that hardly makes for a reassuring appearance.

“Hello?”

“Ah, good morning!” Then Hypatia turns, and David catches a glimpse of a wide smile on her face as she walks towards the cage. “How are you feeling, ma’am?”

David shoos a rat away from his boot. Rats, even up here.

“Awful...where am I?” The test subject sits up in her cot, her upper body curled around her stomach. “Who are you?”

“I’m Alexandria Hypatia, I’m...doing medicinal research here.”

“Oh, Void.” The test subject whimpers. “Do I have the plague? Please, ma’am, I-I don’t wanna die!”

“ No one should die of the plague,” Hypatia sighs.

‘She hurts for them. But she is ridiculed for her soft heart, tormented by her...sister? I’m sorry. It’s all mingled together.’

“You’re doing perfect,” David whispers, regarding Hypatia with a suspicious eye. The Dressmaker only has one niece. He’d mentioned nephews, both passed away now. Alexandria shouldn’t have a sister.

Unless she was talking about a witch. They called themselves sisters. Or...a half-sister, from her father. David feels a little silly for considering witches before infidelity.

“Why have you locked me up? Like I’m an animal?”

“The...cage is for my own protection. Others have tried to attack me, and my assistant...you understand, right?”

The test subject is silent.

“I’ll have my guards release you tomorrow morning,” Hypatia continues, smoothing out her vest. “Everything is going to be okay. And thank you, for you help.”

“But the pain. Can’t you give me anything for the pain?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t give you any painkillers of sorts…” She turns, rifling through a drawer. “It could skew my results. The strongest I can give you is a tincture to help you sleep. Just relax.”

A sleeping tincture wasn’t going to do s**t, if her goal was to help this woman pass away peacefully. David slides in another sleep dart and hits the woman in the belly while Hypatia’s back is turned.

Hypatia stands up, confused, as the test subject flops onto her back. David stands behind her, giving her several feet of space.

“Alexandria?”

“Yes?” She turns, eyes alert and blinking. David’s next words fall from his mouth.

He’s seen her before. The woman Luca Abele had been with. She had been at Dunwall Tower the day Sabrina died.

“Are you one of my bodyguards?” She asks, smiling sheepishly as she sets the bottle of tincture down. “I’m sorry...I-I-I should know that.”

“I’m here to help you,” David says, swallowing the lump in his throat. She may very well recognize his voice, but that’s not a concern. She’ll learn his identity soon anyway.

Hypatia steps forward and, without warning, brings her hands up to grab at David’s scarf.

“Do you-” He grabs her wrists and gently pushes them down. “-cover your face because you were hurt?”

“Something like that.”

“Injuries...far more common than anyone likes to admit.” She turns, pushing a stack of books off a nearby stool. They clatter to the ground. Hypatia doesn’t even flinch. “Avoidable. Most of them.”

“I’m not here for treatment.” David takes a knee, looking up at Hypatia’s dream-like expression. “Your uncle sent me.”

“My uncle?” She blinks.

“Yes. The one who makes dresses.” He really should have asked the guy what his name was, at some point. “Him and I have some...friends, that can keep you safe.”

It’s not the strongest, but David can see their resemblance. Alexandria has the same coloring as the Dressmaker, brown hair and warm skintone. Same eyeshape. Both even have hazel eyes, though Alexandria’s hue tilts slightly more blue.

“Oh, I’m...perfectly safe.” She laughs, moving off the stool and meandering away. “Too safe, sometimes. Feels like I can’t stub my toe without a team of guards swooping in to check on me.”

“We also need your help. We need information on Delilah’s coven.”

“Her what?” She pauses at the next table, blinking at him owlishly. “I assure you, I take no part in witchcraft...not that I’d judge anyone who does, it’s just...that’s not me…”

‘Tread carefully, Father. You are in great danger.’

Of course he’s in danger. He’s always in danger. But Sabrina knows that.

“You...know nothing about a coven.” David says carefully. “Does the name ‘Ashworth’ ring any bells?”

No one’s up here besides them. If witches saw him enter the greenhouse, why have they not descended on him already? Why let him get so close?

Was...was Sabrina talking about Hypatia? How could she be any threat to him?

Though it’s true that he can see the muscles of Hypatia’s forearms, well-toned and stretching the fabric of her sweater where she’s pushed her sleeve up. Shoulders broad, thighs thick, she’s in better shape than most natural philosophers. Probably due to the parkour habit she apparently has.

Still, though, she’s a natural philosopher. They weren’t fighters. Hypatia isn’t even armed. She shouldn’t be dangerous to someone like David in the slightest.

“That...does sound familiar…” Hypatia begins digging her bare hands into a dissected rat, blood staining her fingers. “I’m sorry, I’ve been...forgetting things. I feel like I should be able to help you…”

“It’s fine if you don’t remember right now. We’ll have time to go over it.”

Hypatia shakes her head. “I just...I feel like I’m constantly at the brink of something, like the answer is right there. Under glass, and I just can’t put my finger on it…”

She hands something to David without looking up at him, and David’s hand accepts it automatically. Whatever it is, it’s squishy and pink and gross. He deposits in on the side of the desk with a grimace.

“Maybe you’ll have an easier time clearing your head at your uncle’s.”

“Perhaps, I-” She whips her head around. “Is someone calling me?”

David’s hand on her forearm, pulling her back. “No. No one’s here except us.”

“I didn’t used to...lose things like this.” She laughs. “I’m sorry, something demands my attention…”

“Yes. Me.” David keeps his hold on her arm. She doesn’t take much force to redirect, as she seems to instantly forget she was walking away in the first place.

“Something’s...wrong,” she says, weighing her words carefully. “Here. My sleep is...disturbed, and I see a face in my dreams...like she’s painted my portrait, but twists my expression…” Hypatia shakes her head. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Who painted you? Delilah?” David leans in closer. “Alex, she’s hurting you. We’ll protect you from her.”

“No, she’s…” Hypatia opens her mouth, her eyes glazing over. “Don’t you know her? I can hear her...from down in a well. The killings, so much blood...so much meat…” She drops the viscera from her fingers. “Who is that calling me?!”

She moves away quickly, leaving David at a loss for words.

She’s...alright, disturbed. What was the term called for it? Hearing voices, delusions...Trimble would know. He’ll help her, when David brings her back.

“I wonder what she would say about this…” Hypatia rambles, moving around equipment at random. “Helping you. I...I like helping people.” She moves to another table, her back turned to David. “I thought I could help Dunwall...I keep telling myself it’ll all be worth it in the end, that the cure will save so many lives, but for now I just feel like a doctor of death…”

David readies the sleep dart. He’d hoped she’d come along willingly. He feels especially uncomfortable carrying around unconscious women, moving them against their wills. But she’ll see reason, back at base. He’ll apologize. She’ll understand.

“You said you were looking for your…” Hypatia says to the wall. “Who was it? Your niece? No, your daughter? I’m sorry. My memory is failing me.”

“It’s fine,” David says, and raises his wristbow.

“David!”

The door slams open. Joan sprints towards him, her mask off and her brown hair swinging wildly.

“What the f**k?” David hisses. Behind her, he sees Vasco step inside and closes the door behind him, a large syringe clutched in his hands. She’s baring her face and giving his name away, and David is pissed.

Joan seizes him by the elbow and pulls. “Get away from her. Now.”

“What?” David blinks as Joan steps in between him and Hypatia, casting a nervous glance back at her and letting her hand linger on his arm. “Why? Catspaw, I was just about to knock her out!”

“Don’t do that.” Vasco’s eyes are wide, hands shaking. “Outsider’s ass, thank the Void we caught you.”

Thank the Void that Hypatia is seemingly deaf to their conversation now. She’s continuing on with her fiddling and mumbling like nothing is amiss. Which, for her, might be accurate.

David turns to Vasco and pulls his scarf down. “Look, I know you don’t know us, but we’re not the bad guys here.”

“He knows.” Joan tugs on his arm again. “David, he’s on our side. He wants us to take Hypatia out of here.”

David blinks, staring between the two. “Then why…”

“Because Hypatia’s the goddamn Butcher!” Joan hisses.

The…

Huh?

David stands there, eyes locked on Hypatia’s turned back while his brain reboots.

“She’s the what now?”

“The Dunwall Butcher!” Joan throws her hands out. “You know, the one that’s been ripping apart Dunwall for the past year?”

“I know who you’re talking about, but...what?”

“It’s. Her.” Joan aggressively point. “But it’s not her. I don’t know how to explain it…”

“Maybe I can.” Vasco wets his lips before jumping into it. “Alexandria has...well, what I’ve been calling a ‘disassociated identity’. A second personality, a second person living inside her head.”

“That…” David leans back. “You do realize that sounds absolutely ridiculous, right?”

“I know! Trust me, I know! But listen to me.” His eyes flick over to her and back. “Whoever this person is, she’s always there. Riding along in her mind. Hypatia doesn’t know she’s there, but she sees everything and can take her over. Make Hypatia...sleep, for lack of a better word.” He pauses to suck in air. “Then this person, she commits these horrible crimes. And Hypatia has no idea. She thinks she has a fainting problem!”

That sounds even more implausible, but then, David talks to whale gods and dead Empresses and claims to be able to slow down time at will. So he’s not one to talk.

“So...why can’t I sleep-dart her?” David motions. “Because it seems like that would be the safest way to deal with her.”

“Because a sleep dart won’t work on her!” Vasco holds up his syringe. “I’m not entirely sure how this other personality is fed-it’s in part due to a prototype cure she developed long before this all began, but I’m positive that there’s witchcraft at play. I’ve tried knocking her out with chloroform, darts and tincture, everything. I’ve seen her take bullet and stab wounds to the chest.” He points. “Hurting her in any way will just awaken this other personality. And she can’t be brought down easily. I’ve developed this, a very strong tranquilizer synthesized specifically for Hypatia’s unique body chemistry. It’s the only thing you can use to subdue her.”

“And what happens when she wakes up?” David stares at him. “If she’s insane-”

“She’s not insane!” Vasco shakes his head. “She’s sick. Hypatia, she’s a good person. Really. She’s worth saving, and I’ve been working on a cure that will expel the toxins of the old serum.”

“And where is this cure?” Joan turns to him. “We didn’t get to that part.”

Vasco looks sheepish. “I haven’t...the current formula I have calls for the blood of a bloodfly-infested human-”

David shudders.

“-but, you know, those are in short supply in Dunwall at this time of year.”

“So.” Joan puts her hands on her hips. “Your plan right now is to knock Hypatia out, have us restrain her back at base somehow, and then wait a few months until you might be able to cure her? You know, if the bloodflies even migrate up to this rat hole this year?”

“Or I could go south and find a nest…”

“And break quarantine? What if Hypatia gets free? We’re hiding the goddamn Emperor, we can’t put him at risk like that! And-oh f**k, did you really not close the f*****g door?!”

“Sorry, sorry…” Vasco runs to close the door the entire way. Joan huffs and folds her arms.

“If that crazy b***h hurts any of my friends-”

David waves his hands to break up their argument. “Okay, so this is what I’m getting. Whatever the status of the cure is, we can’t kill her anyway. So why is this even a debate?”

“You really want the goddamn Butcher back home?” Joan stares at him. David checks over her shoulder, but Hypatia is still merrily working away. “Close to our friends? To Anthony?”

Well, no. He doesn’t want her anywhere near their base. Doesn’t want her near people he likes. Anthony, Thalia, Rose, and Reed are all underage too, and he hates the idea of putting four literal children in danger-five, if he counts the one in utero. And honestly, David doesn’t want to let anyone near Anthony most days.

But Hypatia is...she seems almost sweet, like this. Harmless. David knows that looks can be deceiving, but with Sabrina’s insight, he knows Hypatia to be genuine. The only danger comes from triggering the change. They can avoid that.

And if it puts him one step closer to Delilah’s throat…

“If we leave her here, she’ll just continue butchering people. And don’t forget, we made a promise to her uncle.”

“You mean you made a promise to her uncle.”

“And I keep my promises, Catspaw.” Alexandria is the only family the Dressmaker has left. There’s no way David can hurt her, knowing that. He turns to Vasco and holds his hand out. “Give that to me. I’ll get her knocked out.”

Vasco looks down at the syringe like he forgot he was holding it, while Joan huffs and bumps her hip. “f*****g bipolar asshole. I-”

Then Joan staggers to the side, sliding her feet apart to regain her balance. A dart of the faintest green sticking out of her neck.

In the same moment, a shadow falls on Hypatia’s form. David has no time to call out, even to blink, before the figure is on her. Pushes her to the floor. And Vasco screams “No!” as the assassin pulls Hypatia back by the hair and slides their blade into her throat.

Not even a second. The assassin still kneeling over Hypatia’s body, Joan blinking in confusion, her fingers just now coming up to feel for whatever’s pinching her. Simultaneous. Perfectly in sync.

“David.”

His sword already in hand, David whirls around. And the rest of the world falls away.

A woman in black. Gold on the clasps of her jacket. A mask with the face of a bird. The Crow Queen holds a crossbow in her left hand, another sleep dart already loaded in.

“We must speak with you.”

The stale remnants of his last breath slide out between his teeth, his lungs deflating like the slowest of balloons. Not even a blink. He is completely and utterly frozen, his fingers in a death grip around his sword. It’s all that exists. Him and her. Her.

Then there’s a scream. And a crash.

The sound of shattering glass breaks the illusion. It’s still just them, but also his sword and her sword and the floor between them. There’s sound and air and blood to be spilt. She’s all he sees.

And he moves forward.

“David, I-” Then she has to move, dodge the blade aiming down at her heart. She backs away, ducking to avoid having her head taken clean off. “David, listen to me!”

She raises her blade. The blade. The hilt white and inlaid with thin scripts of gold, clutched in her black gloves. The blade a gleaming silver.

It’s so clean he could see his reflection. How can it be clean? David knows the blood that’s seeped into the metal. That blade has been inside of her. Broken her skin and pierced her organs, drew her blood out. He sees it on the edge, soaked in it. Sabrina’s blood, glinting off the metal.

David brings his own down on it. She staggers, and Blinks away before he can slice open her chest.

He whirls around. There’s chaos here-flying objects and screaming and broken things, but it’s like rain on the windowpane. Him and her, their fight, that’s all that matters.

The Crow Queen is standing on a shelf, knees bent and the toes of her boots pointed towards him. She shoots off her crossbow, aiming at David’s leg. He avoids it and the Crow Queen melts away, appearing again a few feet in front of him.

“You must give us a moment!” she cries, parrying his attack. David yells, without words and restraint, and delivers another blow.

She kicks out, quickly, catching her foot in his side. David isn’t stunned for even a moment. He doesn’t feel the pain. There’s nothing but her. Her and the blood running beneath her jugular, her and her hands and her blade. And he can’t stop until it’s all cold, ripped apart and laid out on the floor.

The Crow Queen initiates this attack, jumping forward and flips her sword around in her fist, then lands a punch squarely in the side of his jaw. David sweeps his sword out to slice her midsection in half, but she turns to smoke.

He catches her out of the corner of his eye, descending on him with the hilt of her blade aimed down at him. He blocks the attack, and she’s gone again. There, dancing on the balls of her feet, brandishing her sword and holding her hand up, as if to halt him. “If you allow us to explain-”

With another yell, David stabs out at her. She sidesteps and parries another attack.

“We have mutual goals, you’ll want-”

He jumps forward. Strikes again, no rhythm or tact to his bladework. His skill is a mockery, no good to anyone anymore. All he needs is one strike, one good hit, and she will be just as dead. He can hear her words-but he doesn’t care. Her still-beating heart is a betrayal of all that’s good in the world, the fact that her eyes blink and her fingers bend and her blood flows warm while Sabrina…

The Crow Queen attempts to say something else, holds up her free hand in an attempt to talk him down. David strikes down with all his might.

“YOU KILLED HER!”

She staggers back. David brings his sword down again. She blocks it with the same sword she sheathed in Sabrina’s stomach, all those months ago.

She put that sword through her and let her warmth drain out of her, let her grow cold on the stones, they stopped her heart and let her die and they killed her they killed her.

The Crow Queen turns her head, and David takes the moment to reverse his grip and stab her through the chest. It gives and his blade cuts into nothing but air. Then there’s an arm around his neck, thin but strong, retracting and choking and

And David slams his head back with enough force to make the Queen stagger, and he whirls around and sweeps her feet out from under her.

Thrusts his sword down and it pierces the tile. Something glass hits him in the shoulder, shattering on contact.

“David, I understand your anger!” She ducks to avoid his blade. “I ask for only a few minutes! Please-” She twists and the tip of David’s blade cracks the plaster wall. “I am not the threat at hand!”

“You killed her!”

“And she will kill us all if-”

“You killed her!”

He attacks. She blocks. They fight and they fight and David knows nothing else because she killed her, she put a sword through his Sabrina and wouldn’t even let David hold her, didn’t give him the chance to say goodbye. She died young and cold and alone and David wasn’t able to hold her hand and make passing easier for her because they ripped her away and threw her in the ocean. They stopped her heart and ruined his and David will tear theirs out of their chests.

David raises his sword for another blow and-

And a train hits him. His heart speeds and his stomach turns and there’s Joan in his head screaming and Calling to him and David I am going to f*****g die because you’re a goddamn i***t.

The room comes back into focus. The tiles on the floor, the smell of soil and alcohol and disease. The broken glass, the upturned furniture.

And whatever possessing Alexandria Hypatia leaps over a table and knocks Joan onto her back.

“Not much meat on your bones,” she seethes. “Not enough to be worth it. Let’s play, little riverwoman.”

“How about no?” Joan crosses her blade in front of her chest, holding Hypatia off. “David! Help!”

But the Rat King is the one who stoops, wraps his arms around Hypatia’s shoulders and throws her to the side. Joan Blinks away and appears again, standing upright, on top of the table that Vasco has incidentally chosen to hide under.

David fits a bolt into his wristbow and sends it into Hypatia’s shoulder. She turns. And snarls.

Hair a tousled mess. Skin paler than a corpse. And ice-blue eyes that almost seem to glow.

“You two made up and joined the game, then?” She deftly weaves out of the Rat King’s reach, jumping forward. “Good. It was getting boring.”

Another bolt. This one misses, as does the knife the Crow Queen throws at her.

Hypatia pitches and moves towards the Crow Queen at an alarming speed, and she barely Blinks away in time. Hypatia growls and rounds on the Crow Queen in an instant.

“You smell like ink and parchment, but the scent of death clings to your boots.” Hypatia sneers, clawing out at the Crow Queen’s face. “You’ve waded through the dead waters, haven’t you? You dirty girl.”

The Rat King uses his wind power to knock her off balance, and the Crow Queen shoots off a sleep dart. David runs forward and slides, aiming to take Hypatia off her feet.

He succeeds, but slamming her head against the floor does absolutely nothing to stun her. She grabs his wrists, pulls herself up and smashes her skull into his with such force David actually sees stars. Then she pushes him onto his back.

“And you, my pup?” Her hands at his shoulders, pushing him down. “Hmm, you smell like…”

She digs her nose into the crux of his neck and inhales. “You smell of engine grease and new fabric. You carry the scent of flowers in your robes, and blood in your teeth. There’s children too, you’re around children…”

There’s a sound like wind whipping through a corridor, and Hypatia loses her grip on his lapels. David unfreezes and scrambles backwards.

The Crow Queen is holding her hand up, the Mark glowing beneath her glove. She’s...tethering Hypatia, much like David’s Pull ability, but by manipulating the wind. She looks over to David, then jerks her thumb up. “Off the floor!”

Hypatia doesn’t remain tethered for long. She breaks free, but David and the Crow Queen have both Blinked to different tables. Out of the corner of his eye, David sees the Rat King raise his Marked hand.

And the floor beneath Hypatia comes alive with rats.

Wriggling, chittering mass of fur and skinless tails. David is nearly startled right off his table.

How is he doing that? Stupid question. Why would he want to? Could he do that before the plague? Is that where the name comes from? What the f**k, and oh god, their tails are wiggling, that’s so gross and what the f**k what the f**k what the f**k-

The rats, though they’re disgusting, don’t seem to be interested in attacking Hypatia. She stands there and looks down at them in almost confusion.

“Bombs away, fuckers!”

David sees just a flash of the bottle as it arcs through the air, shattering against Hypatia’s forehead. A hazy cloud appears around her and all the rats go stiff. David has to nod in appreciation of Joan’s aim.

“I told you, you have to-”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard!” Joan drops to her knees, dipping her arm under the table and extending her fingers to Vasco’s cowering form. “Give it to me!”

Hypatia crosses the floor at a speed that should not be possible, and she leaps towards Joan and slams into her so hard she’s knocked clear off the table.

“You’re a delicious morsel…” Hypatia whispers into her ear.

David is still feet away, too far, too far when Hypatia is so close to Joan. But he raises his hand anyway. “Get away from her!”

He Pulls. But Hypatia is barely startled.

Joan tries to back away, but Hypatia grabs her ankle and pulls her back. “Aw, he cares for you, does he?” She breathes against Joan’s ear, loud and ragged and altogether insatiable. “You two can be my playthings. He can watch while I cut off your legs.”

“That’s too kinky for me!” Joan hits the side of her head. “Get off!”

David reaches them as soon as the Rat King does, and they both seize one of Hypatia’s arms. Haul her off Joan.

Hypatia kicks her legs, but they both hold fast. Joan jumps up and runs to Vasco.

“Hold her still.” The Crow Queen’s voice, followed by the click of a gun. “Got a clear shot.”

David whips his head back to protest, and Hypatia senses the distraction. She barrels into him, pulling her arm free from the Rat King and swiping it over David’s chest.

Something’s bleeding. He doesn’t know what, but it stings. David grips the side of a nearby table as the floor seems to pitch. Hypatia turns and throws herself at the Rat King, and he elicits the only sound David’s ever heard from him: a single, deep grunt.

“Serkonan spices and smoke, crayon shavings under your fingernails...and power.” Her fingernails actually tear ribbons into his coat, leaving the Rat King scrambling for his blade as she paws at his sleeve. “I smell magic in your blood, deep in your bones! They said I could taste the flesh of the Marked! They promised me!”

The Rat King shoves her away and disappears in a flash of blue. Hypatia turns, snarling, and the Crow Queen steps in. Raises her hand and Pulls with her strange not-Pull power.

As expected, it pewters out in a moment, but then David is there reciprocating with his own Pull. It takes over, Hypatia is off-balanced, if for only a split second.

It’s tiring, risky work, and it drains David’s mana like no other. He and the Crow Queen are nowhere in sync, so every time Hypatia regains her footing they just have to pray the other catches her in time.

Joan staggers to her feet, the syringe in her hands and a limp in her side.She’s far, far too far away to reach them in any timely manner. But her eyes light up when she sees Hypatia’s predicament, and she winds her arm back. “Rat dude, catch!”

And she throws.

“Inject it at the base of her neck!” Vasco calls from below the table. “At her spine!”

The Rat King catches the syringe with one hand and disappears in a flurry of blue. Then he descends on Hypatia for the second time, jamming the needle in between her shoulder blades and shoving the plunger down.

“No no no!” Hypatia screeches, collapsing in a heap and clawing at her head. Shaking as if having a fit. “Not back to sleep!”

But the convulsions end. Hypatia goes still.

Asleep.

The room is silent for five long beats.

Then David turns his cold eyes up to the Crow Queen, still staring at Hypatia’s unconscious body. “Well, that didn’t go as planned,” she says simply, turning her face to David. “But we’ve established that we can work together. Can we tolerate each other’s presence long enough to talk?”

David doesn’t say a word. He steps forward, blade still out but both his hands at his side. He looks her in the lens of her eyes.

Then he Blinks forward, grabs her by her stupid mask and sets his blade at her throat.

There’s a burning pain in his forearm, and he winces just long enough for the Crow Queen to disappear. He grasps at the bolt, pulling it out with a grunt and turning to stare down the crossbow hair of the Rat King.

“Wouldn’t it be easier just to hear us out?” The Crow Queen materializes again, holding her arms out to her side. “We can benefit from each other, we can-”

David is on her in a second. She Blinks, but so does he. The pounding in his ears have dulled, his mind clearer now. He can think straight. No distractions.

Just him and her blood.

Slow Time won’t help him. She’ll be immune to it and it would only serve to drain him. He doubts Pull will work on her-likely it’ll have the same effect as it had on Hypatia, disorienting but completely capable of breaking out of its grasp. And that’s fine.

David doesn’t want to hold her still. He wants to feel her struggle for her life. He wants the resistance. He wants her to fight back.

He wants to make this hurt.

They dance together, blades clashing and voices grunting in effort. She blocks one of his attacks so abruptly and effectively that David is actually stunned back, shaking out his arm to rid the painful vibration in his bones. The Crow Queen jumps away, bringing her pistol up and c*****g the chamber. David wonders briefly if they’re finally just going to kill him.

“No! Get off me!”

David whirls around with his heart in his throat. Joan is grasping at the Rat King’s arm, trying to wretch it away and clawing for her breath. Her legs kick into empty air. Caught in his chokehold, the Rat King is tall enough that Joan’s feet don’t even touch the ground.

“Put her down!” David raises his sword, though it’s for show. He’s too far away. And Joan is between them. “Don’t touch her!”

“Lower your weapons and we’ll do the same with her.”

The Crow Queen is a hot presence at his back, a malignant entity that permeates the room. She speaks lowly, methodically, as if drained of all emotion.

David can’t even consider disobeying. Joan’s voice is already going hoarse, muffled curses screamed into the Rat King’s sleeve. A gunshot won’t kill him, but he knows they’ll shoot Joan first. He can’t watch it. Not again.

But as he begins to raise his arms in surrender, Joan manages to torc her head to the side. She pulls on the Rat King’s sleeve, exposing the tanned skin underneath. Just a bit. But enough.

Joan sinks her teeth into it.

The Rat King yells. He drops Joan, and she scrambles to collect her cleaver and Blink away.

Now David is bearing down on him, aiming to split that stupid mask clear in half. The Rat King Blinks forward, kicking out as he lands and sending David flying through the air. But he only needs to Blink again to right his boots back on the ground.

“David, we mean you no harm!” the Crow Queen cries as he rounds on her once again. “Neither of you! It’s imperative that we-”

Concentrating, David executes the same Blink-kick move he witnessed the Rat King perform, knocking the breath right out of the Queen. Then the King joins the fray once again, and David must parry.

It’s not a fair fight, two on one, even with Joan dancing around the outskirts and trying to get in jabs as she can. He hears her screaming as well, obscenities and other s**t about revenge, but it fades under the downpour. She’s not their focus. Not his. David only knows to fight, and it’s all the King and Queen can do to hold even with him.

It wouldn’t be a fair fight, no, but David has rage to fuel him. His Empress’s fire alight in his veins, guiding his blade. He smells the smoke but it doesn’t slow him. He burns and he will spread her flames.

“He’s not listening to us!” the Crow Queen yells. The Rat King grunts as he weathers a particularly hard blow on the plates of his shoulders, dodging the next aimed at his neck.

“I see that.”

The Rat King’s voice is deep, gruff and even. As if he’s annoyed.

The Crow Queen waves her free hand, trying to motion something to her partner while blocking David’s attacks with her sword. “Enough! We did not come here to murder you, and-”

David moves in and back-hands her across the face. Brings his sword down on her armored sleeve.

Her sword falls from her hand. And David plants his boot right in the middle of her stomach, sending her to the stone.

She props herself up on her elbows, and the blank lenses of her mask peer up at him. Innocently. She doesn’t try to move, to escape. Her blade is feet away. She knows what’s coming. She knows David deserves this.

He clutches his blade and-

And then there’s the fingers, slid up into his skull and clutching his brain in its fist. Strings on his wrists, coaxing him to drop his blade, but David is stronger now. He pulls. The strings snap. He fights back.

They meet and David feels pressure, sees nothing but blue, and then there’s the worst swirl of emotions and thoughts pressing on him, choking him out. He feels the Rat King, not just under his skin but feels him, his love for the Crow Queen and his care for their coven, he sees David and he thinks of how he reached for her like grasping for his lifeline and he sees his dead-eyed stare as they dragged him away to Coldridge and the way he stared at the blood of his Empress covering his hands, he sees David and he thinks of Sabrina and he sees her as she bleeds to death on the roof of the water lock while the Queen directs the Cardinals still present and Sabrina grasps at his collar and stains it with her blood and demands they look her in the eye when they kill her, he looks at David and he thinks of Sabrina and he feels shame and guilt and he sees a little girl with a bow in her dark hair and how can he tell her and she’s holding a wooden sword with purple polish on her nails and Sabrina’s blood is under his and she covers one eye with her hand and she’s beaming at him and what if someone did that to EmilyEmilyEmilyEMILY-

David shudders as he breathes, contracting his muscles as if forcing a wound to bleed. The Rat King appears in a flash of blue. Stumbles.

“My head,” David heaves, turning to face him. “Is the last place you want to be.”

The Rat King doesn’t respond. He falls to his knees, hands to the ground. Then he pulls up his mask and vomits.

David adjusts his grip, stepping towards the Rat King with his blade out. His hood has been pushed back, revealing long brown hair and a glimpse of the back of his neck. Perfectly in position. David inhales and raises his sword above his head.

“No!”

David sees only the faintest glimpse of the Crow Queen holding out her palm, the glow of the Mark reflecting off her mask.

Then his gaze shifts over to Joan, who has dropped her cleaver. Literally dropped it. It clatters on the tiles, and she nearly trips over it as she moves, her eyes glazed and wide. It’s automatic, to turn and see what she’s looking at, and-

And there’s nothing. A warm glow fills him, and David feels his muscles relax. Endless brown, peels of laughter at his ears and a pleasant numbing feeling in his limbs. He’s sleepy, but not tired.

What is he fighting again? Why is he bothering? It’s so nice here. Was this always waiting right here, open for him? It’s been here all along. They’ve never left him.

And David never wants to leave. The burden of his thoughts are suspended and he’s wrapped in a bath of warm water, drifting free from worry. He feels peace. This is what he’s been wanting. Peace. Something about peace. Wanted it, grasped it in his hands. Give it to...her.

The thought grounds him. Makes him feel the ache in his fingers and tingling feeling arcing up his arm. He dips his toes back into reality and he falls through. It isn’t real. It never was.

David blinks. In front of him is some kind of blight on reality, all black and twisting in on itself. Beautiful and horrible, but he doesn’t allow his gaze to linger on it any longer. It’s nothing. It’s all it ever was.

Joan and Vasco stand near him, still trapped in the imaginary world it provided them. Hypatia lies still on the floor, her chest rising and falling with reliable timing. The greenhouse is otherwise empty.

No.

David scoops up his sword as he runs for the door. Joan and Vasco are still hypnotized, Hypatia is unrestrained and any of the guards can come up and see it all at any moment. David doesn’t care.

All he cares about is that the people who murdered his Sabrina are getting away, and he can not let them get away.

He feels their movement on the wind, some primal part of him guiding his path. David runs for the edge of the roof and leaps off the railing, trusting his Blink to carry him to safety on the other side of the street. He’s never Blinked this far and his leg hurts when he lands, but he pays it no mind. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

He sees them limping across the rooftops, the Rat King with one arm around his Queen, and her holding him up. They don’t hear him dash across the shingles, leaping over the gaps between buildings, until he’s nearly on top of them.

David flicks his wrist, sending a bolt into the leg of the Rat King. He goes down, as expected, and the Crow Queen wraps both her arms around his waist in an attempt to keep him upright. She turns her head back and catches glimpse of him, just in time for David to raise his Marked hand and Pull.

It only tugs on her for a moment, but it’s enough to separate the two. She’s pulled away and her arms reach out to take hold of him, and by the time she regains her footing the King has slipped out of her reach.

The Rat King falls, and he slides down the shingles. The Crow Queen raises her hands as his legs slip off the edge.

“Stefan!”

David stops short. Stefan. Stefan. Stefan.

It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.

But the Rat King finds a handhold, and his descent halts. He doesn’t pull himself up immediately, maybe he can’t, but he’s safe. For now.

David grits his teeth. He can’t afford any more distractions. He needs to end this. End both their miserable lives and figure the rest out later.

He turns and-the Crow Queen is on him, fighting back with a fury he hadn’t felt from her before this. Her blade catches on his side and he feels the bite, even through the layers of padding and armor, and he relishes it. The pain centers him and the blood fuels his blaze. Every cut, every blow she lands just makes him stronger.

David rushes forward with a speed she wasn’t expecting. He grabs her shoulder, pulls her in. And aims his blade straight for her heart.

And for the moment, he feels powerful. Triumphant. The Crow Queen stares at him in horror as he brings the blade in and he drinks in her fear. And just before his blade pierces her heart, he looks over her shoulder to see the Rat King staggering to his feet, his hands entwined in the long fingers of his Queen.

His blade meets her chest. And she pops like an overfilled balloon, erupts in a flash of sparkles and screams.

David coughs. Squeezes his eyes shut, hunched over, trying desperately not to lose his footing. Dark spots linger on his retinas when he opens his eyes, and the world seems to spin.

He looks around. Staggers. Blinks his eyes and waits for the dizziness to pass, then looks again.

Nothing but the rooftops, and the Wrenhaven beyond them.

“No…”

David moves. Blinks to another roof. Blinks higher, whipping his head around. Nothing. They’re gone.

“No!”

They can’t. They can’t be gone. David has to kill them. He can’t live knowing they’re out there, knowing they could hurt Anthony, knowing she still wields the same knife that ended Sabrina’s life. He can’t. He just can’t.

But the rooftops are empty. He couldn’t stop them.

Again.

David throws back his head and screams. It’s a deep, guttural thing that slaps his vocal chords together and creates a burning sensation deep in his throat. It echoes off the crumbling, dying buildings and disappears into the expanse of the sky. Swallowed up by the heavens.

David screams until there’s no air left in his lungs and his scream is cut off, and he collapses to his knees.

He searches some more, though he knows he won’t find them now. He knows, in the pit of his stomach, that they’re gone. And he has no idea when and where he’ll meet them next. Who they might threaten this time.

The sky turns grey and David has to admit defeat. He turns back. Trudges towards Sokolov’s safehouse.

He keeps above the streets, though he sees no patrols. Good. David will kill anything he comes into contact with right now. He wants the fight, wants to feel their blood cool against his skin. He wants the kill. But nobody seems to have heard the fight, or his scream. Or if they did, they don’t care enough to investigate.

Sabrina thrums in his hand as he sets his sights back on the safehouse, gentle and powerful. He holds her up to the moonlight and squeezes.

‘Why have they presented themselves now?’ She asks him, innocent and almost child-like. ‘Am I meant to forgive them for what they did?’

“No.” David’s voice breaks as he says it. “No, you don’t have to do anything.”

He strokes the surface of the Talisman, feeling her energy breathe, pulse, melancholy and pensive. That’s fine. That’s all fine.

He doesn’t want her to forgive them, but he also doesn’t want her to be angry. David will take that for her. He’ll feel all her anger and pain, take it so she doesn’t have to.

The sleep-darted guard is still snoozing away, though that’ll wear off soon. The roof is deserted, so at least their fight didn’t attract any attention from downstairs.

Joan and Vasco are sitting cross-legged on the floor when he returns, passing a bottle back and forth. Joan looks up at him with hopeful and strangely pitiful eyes.

David closes the door and looks to the ground. “They were too quick.”

“Oh.”

He leans against the door, his legs feeling too heavy to move on. His muscles are made of lead and his bones from solid iron. Joan wanders over and slaps a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll get them, David. Don’t worry.”

He knows that. Eventually, they’ll fall to his blade. But there will be no peace until then.

Enough. They have a mission to do. Or-finish, actually. David pushes away from the door.

“We need to get moving,” he says, glancing at Vasco down on the floor and Hypatia in a heap beside him. “How long will that tranquilizer last?”

“Oh.” Vasco’s eyes go wide. “Um, about eighteen hours. Roughly. So we have until about, um, noon? Tomorrow?”

“We need to GTFO like, now, though.” Joan stares down at him with her hands on her hips. “Someone’s going to try checking on you f***s here soon and I want to be as far away as possible when that alarm goes up.”

“Right, right.” Vasco gets to his feet. “Um...so did you want me to pretend I was sleeping, or…”

Joan stares at him. “Uh, no, you’re coming with us.”

“Oh, thank the Void.” Vasco lets out a sigh of relief. “Kaldwin is crazy. She’d probably kill me even if I really was asleep during Hypatia’s kidnapping.”

“That, and you’ve seen our faces. So you gotta come too, kid.” Joan shrugs and looks around. “I dunno, do you need to like...grab a bag?”

Vasco excuses himself to gather the most vital of his and Hypatia’s notes and possessions. David gives him fifteen minutes. They won’t leave without him, of course, but David will definitely throw him over his shoulder and carry him to the skiff if he needs to.

Joan busies herself with applying starch-white paint to her fingers and writing the fearsome words on the wall. There’s no bodies to serve as an example, but there’s enough blood splattered around the room that it should still make for an effective reminder. And a lack of bodies, two in particular, should be menacing in their own right.

David paces behind her. The test subject is still unconscious-will hopefully stay that way, until she expires-and the rats that the King had summoned are stiff and cold. David nudges one with his foot. It falls over with a clack. He finds the Crow Queen’s throwing knife, lodged in the side of a worktable. He pulls it free and slides it into his pocket.

The emotions swell and dive with every step, and he finds himself nearly stomping. Joan turns when he stops and gives one of the tables a half-hearted punch.

“What did the table do to you?”

“I just…” David shuts his eyes, shaking his head. “Just want to break something.”

“Then break something.”

David opens his eyes. “What?”

Joan shrugs, paint still clinging to her gloves. “Break some s**t. If it makes you feel better, then do it.”

He nods. Slowly. Then he grabs the table and upturns it, sends all its equipment to the floor.

David punches the glass cases, overturns shelves filled with beakers and tubes and other s**t he doesn’t know the purpose of. He just knows it’s glass and it shatters upon contact with the floor. He just knows that it breaks.

He destroys Hypatia’s audiograph machine. Knocks over furniture, dumps her planter boxes on the floor. Joan drags Hypatia onto a countertop, away from the destruction, and watches him lazily.

Vasco’s eyes widen when he re-enters the room.

“I had to break something,” David says evenly.

Vasco nods. “Um, okay. Better than someone’s neck, I guess.”

David carries Hypatia over his shoulder as they Blink down to the water, Vasco clinging to Joan and Joan whispering that she’ll knock him out too if his ‘girly squeals’ give them away. She starts up the boat while David and Vasco get Hypatia situated in the skiff.

“By the way, Vas-man.” Joan lights a cigarette, taking in a lungful before continuing. “Uh, yeah, this is the David. The Royal Protector one, you know, that everyone’s talking about.”

“I kind of gathered that.” Vasco smiles with his lips pressed together.

And he didn’t go running for the hills, so either he’s got balls or Delilah scares him so much that David is rather non-threatening in comparison.

“So, actual introductions.” Joan starts up the boat. “Joan Catspaw, a drunken dyke hailing from some f**k-ass town in Morley you’ve never heard of. David, an asshole who likes to pretend he’s everyone’s dad and averages about two facial expressions a week.”

“That is not true.”

“It so is.” She turns back to Vasco. “Ever see someone laugh with a completely straight face? It’s unnerving. Watch him. When he does smile, it’s that creepy serial killer grin without any teeth.”

“I meant that the former isn’t true, but if you continue to prattle on about it, I’d like to remind you that I know how to pilot your boat and out here, no one will ever find your body.”

“Oh, boo.” Joan rolls her eyes. “Anyway. We may be jerks, but you’re safe with us, kid.”

“I know. Thank you.” Vasco sits with Hypatia’s head in his lap. “You two are clearly very good at what you do.”

“We are very good. But don’t mistake us for the real assassins. David didn’t kill the Empress.”

“I deduced that as well. Considering how he was screaming at those two.”

“Delilah hired them,” David whispers. His fingers dig into his pant leg.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

“But we’ll get ‘em in the end. Them and Delilah both.” Joan blows out her smoke, the amber glow of the end casting shadows across her face. “They’ll all get what’s coming to them.”