Above the Grey Fog, in the ancient and magnificent hall.
Klein's figure materialised abruptly at the head of the long, mottled table. He sank back into the chair with a knitted brow, the woman's contemplative expression surfacing in his mind again and again.
His spirituality instinct told him: when something feels wrong, there's almost always something wrong.
The reason he'd dared to attempt the raid tonight in the first place was precisely because he could self-pray above the Grey Fog — praying to himself, answering himself — which gave him the ability to cancel a Spirit Body projection at almost any time, bypassing virtually any interference. Even if that high-sequence woman had moved to engage him point-blank, he could simply pull himself back here. Which was exactly what had happened — she couldn't stop his return. But then — why had she looked at him like that?
Had she seen through something?
Klein gripped the chair's armrests, a wave of frustration moving through him. All that effort tonight, and he'd come away with nothing — and nearly made a serious mistake in the process.
Right. He wasn't out of danger yet. He needed to get back to his body and get away from that area as fast as possible.
He wrapped himself in spirituality and returned to reality. He moved quickly — snuffed the candles, ended the ritual, cleared everything away, dissolved the spirituality barrier, and let the rushing air sweep away the remaining traces.
Then he produced the master key he'd gotten from Bishop Utravsky at the Harvest Church and got out fast.
Tapping his cane to maintain his orientation, Klein moved at pace, using the master key to pass through door after door, wall after wall. Even so, before long he found himself losing track of his own position.
"Typical Beyonder item drawback. Used divination-cane the whole way without stopping, and still managed to get lost."
He muttered this under his breath, decided to pass through one more building and then put the master key away.
An invisible wave of water rippled outward as he passed through a high wall into the alley on the other side. His footing hadn't even settled when a powerful smell of blood hit him in the face.
He looked up.
A woman lay in a pool of blood, her chest and abdomen carved open — a massive hollow where her organs should have been, nothing visible inside. Eyes wide open, fixed in the expression of someone who died unwilling. On the ground beside her stood a figure that was short and appeared, somehow, female.
"The serial killer!"
Klein had been reading about these serial killings with his morning coffee for weeks now. Every report left him reflecting: in a world with divination abilities, a serial killer who kept striking and evading justice had to be a Beyonder. And not one of low Sequence.
In Tingen, the Captain would have had the whole Nighthawk team locked onto this. In Backlund, though, this kind of thing — while not exactly common — wasn't going to occupy every official Beyonder in the city. Because the alternatives Klein and Leonard were dealing with were the kind of disasters that killed hundreds or thousands at a stroke.
And now, here he was — stumbling directly into the crime scene while it was happening.
He'd already spent the night projecting a Spirit Body to the museum, then used the master key and shadow-jumps to get back here. His spirituality was more than halfway gone. Fighting someone who was almost certainly a higher-sequence Beyonder — the odds were too low.
The figure saw Klein appear out of nowhere, reached out a hand and stepped toward him. Klein didn't hesitate — several rapid Air Bullets fired from his fingers, then he stepped back and faded into invisibility, used shadow-jump to put distance between them, and shouted at the top of his lungs:
"Help! Murder! Somebody come! Help!"
"Oh? You—"
Melissa dodged the Air Bullets and watched the person vanish, a look of mild indignation crossing her face. "They can't seriously think I'm the killer."
She'd heard the commotion and come running — only to find a large black dog tearing at the corpse. In the time she'd spent with her teacher, Melissa had seen a fair amount of things that would have made ordinary people recoil. But this level of blood and brutality was new.
"Let's go."
The black bracelet on Melissa's wrist flickered. Medici's handsome head inflated out of it like a balloon, dead-fish eyes staring. "If you're just standing around with nothing to do, go take me to find that Lumian."
"My teacher said to stay in Backlund and wait for news."
"What news? From who?"
Melissa took off her outer coat and draped it over the dead woman's face. "Something to do with the Intis side of things. I don't know who from."
"And how is that my concern?"
"I never said it was. I was just answering your question."
Medici's eyes sharpened. "Then take me to find that damned Lumian right now."
"First tell me what Emperor Roselle actually hid in that mausoleum."
On this point Melissa was thoroughly annoyed — she'd already told Medici about the Red Priest's future. And Medici had wriggled out of his end of the bargain.
"You think you can threaten me? Try me — I'll possess you. You'll be begging to die."
"Go ahead," Melissa said flatly.
It wasn't bravado. Medici couldn't do it. Not because of her teacher — but because of what remained in Melissa's body: the seed the Hidden Sage had left behind during the Old Neil incident. The descent had been interrupted, but the seed hadn't disappeared. The threat of a Hidden Sage descent still resided in her.
In Medici's full strength, that level of "seed" would have been irrelevant. But right now He was only a cobbled-together remnant soul — an Evil Spirit — and the risk simply wasn't worth it.
"Why do you want to find Lumian?" Melissa asked, stepping out of the alley. "Is it because he's the future Red Priest and you want to get rid of him before he rises?"
"Why would I kill him?" Medici said flatly. "I just want to see what the future 'Red Priest' looks like."
"But…"
Melissa hesitated. "Why do you believe me? All of that was my teacher telling me what to say. I don't even fully understand it myself."
"Because…"
A brief pause. "This isn't the first time I've heard that name."
...
The next morning.
After washing up, Bernadette took out the Black Emperor Card. "Do you need me to bring this into the Nation of Disorder so you can study it?"
"How did you know I—"
"Heh. You've been pushing me to bundle up all the bookmarks and take them from the very beginning. If I can't deduce what you're thinking from that, I'd have to be an idiot."
"Was it that obvious?"
Bernadette didn't pursue it. "Go into the Nation of Disorder. I'll sacrifice the Card to you."
"Alright."
Vincent let his mind settle and stepped into the Nation of Disorder's palace. After a moment, the ancient Scale began to pour golden mist.
He immediately raised his hand and flooded spirituality into it. Above the old Scale, the flow of spirituality dragged open a shimmering golden door — a rushing torrent of spiritual force poured through its seams, shaking everything in the hall.
Rumble.
When the spirituality pouring in hit its peak, the hazy golden door crashed open. Through the translucent gateway, Vincent could see Bernadette in the physical room beyond, holding the Black Emperor Card in her hands —
And the Magic Wishing Lamp beside it.
To be continued…
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