Klein and Melissa exchanged a look, then stepped out one after the other.
The building in front of them was an elegant standalone villa — smaller than the Hall family townhouse by quite a margin, but the two floors still gave it a generous amount of space.
"For the next three days, we'll have plainclothes officers positioned around the property. You're free to request anything you need, but we'd prefer you not go out."
Klein raised an eyebrow. "Prefer. Which means going out is actually allowed?"
"Technically, yes. We do need to maintain the appearance that your lives are continuing as normal."
"Respectfully — you've put us both in the same place. You don't seriously think the serial killer is stupid enough not to notice that, do you?"
Ikanser smiled slightly. "It's not particularly intelligent. But it's not particularly stupid either."
"It?" Klein caught the pronoun. "You mean the killer isn't human?"
"Of course not. Normal people don't hollow out the internal organs and eat them."
Ikanser didn't elaborate. He made a gesture. "Please, both of you."
He led them inside, narrating: "Downstairs has two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a sitting room. Upstairs has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a study."
"But I'd prefer you both stay on the ground floor — it makes our positioning considerably easier."
He pointed to the two doors on either side of the hall. "Have a think about who takes which room."
Melissa looked at Klein. "You choose first, Miss Kleya — I'm fine with either."
Klein walked left. "I'll take the left."
"Right side for me, then."
Klein pushed open the left bedroom door, turned back to Ikanser: "Is there anything you need us to do right now, or can I get some rest?" He yawned, not entirely performatively. "You came knocking before I'd even properly woken up."
"Your time here is completely your own."
"Then I'm going back to sleep."
Klein walked into the bedroom and put the latch on. He crossed quickly to the window and made a fast survey of the surroundings — a rough sense of the layout — then pulled the curtains and threw himself face-first onto the bed.
"This is noticeably more comfortable than the hotel mattress."
He lay there with hands folded behind his head, staring at the crystal chandelier overhead. "I wonder if Stephen quietly followed us here…"
"What—"
Klein shot upright.
"I've just been put under official Beyonder protection for the next three days. That means I paid 1,500 pounds for a bodyguard I no longer need!"
Hmmm.
In the same instant, a barely-audible sound reached him — a very faint hum, the kind that made something inside you immediately sharpen. He looked toward the source and readied himself for Flame Jump or a Paper Substitute.
"Is that — the dressing mirror glowing?"
There on the top of the mahogany cabinet across from him: the dressing mirror was emanating a faint, hazy light — clearly visible in the dimness of the curtained room.
Klein's nerves drew tight. He hesitated between throwing the door open and shouting for help immediately, and the possibility that this was his bodyguard Stephen doing something strange.
He wavered. Then drew a slow breath, kept a careful distance, and edged two steps closer — just enough to see what was in the mirror.
At that moment, the dressing mirror gave two slight trembles — and white words materialised on its surface:
"Your faithful and most humble servant Arrodes is at your service."
"???"
Klein stopped. Totally blank. Servant? Arrodes? What on earth is this?
The mirror's surface shimmered again. The text changed:
"You are in grave danger! Thanks only to your humble servant's clever manoeuvring, the danger has been temporarily averted."
"But the danger has not passed. You must urgently—"
Szzzt.
The mirror fractured into static — like a television set catching interference — and the words broke apart into fragments.
"Danger… danger… approaching… your faithful servant must temporarily withdraw…"
"I will… find a way…"
The faint glow winked out. The words vanished. The mirror returned to being an ordinary mirror, as if nothing had ever appeared on its surface.
Klein stared at it, brow tight, and murmured: "What on earth was that?"
...
While Klein was having his first encounter with the sycophant mirror, Melissa in the room next door was propped on the windowsill table with her chin in her hands, looking out at the garden — deep autumn, everything but a few hardy evergreens reduced to dry brown.
This time last year, I was still going to school every day, coming home in the evenings to have dinner and talk with Klein and Benson. Life was plain. Sometimes it was hard. But having all of us together — that really was something.
Now I've touched a far bigger, wider, stranger world. But the price was leaving Klein and Benson behind. And it might be a very long time before any of us are in the same place again.
"I wonder how Klein and Benson are doing," Melissa said softly, tilting her head up at the grey, foggy sky. "Is Klein still with the Nighthawks? Is Benson getting close to his exams? Are they alright?"
"Do they… still miss me?"
"Pfft."
Medici's dismissive snort came from behind her. The Evil Spirit had manifested at the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other. "Oh, so you're just a little girl who mopes about things."
Melissa wrinkled her nose. "I'm literally sixteen."
"Tch. Here I was wondering if you were some ancient soul reborn."
"Thanks. Personally, I wouldn't mind being ageless." She turned around to look at Medici in his bloodstained black armour. "What are you doing out here?"
"That woman called Kleya," Medici said, "has a problem."
"What kind of problem?"
"Heh." His expression settled into something knowing. "I caught Cheek's scent on her." He raised one eyebrow. "The moment I saw her, I almost mistook her for Cheek herself. No wonder last night, when we crossed paths with her, something felt off."
"But that can't be right, surely—"
Medici was still muttering when Melissa raised a hand. "Wait, Teacher — would you mind explaining who Cheek is first."
"..."
Silence. "You don't even know who Cheek is?" He tilted his head with a look of infinite condescension. "Who would I explain things to if not you, then? Cheek is what you'd call the Primordial Demoness — the deity the Demoness Sect worships."
"Ohhh."
Melissa nodded, connecting the dots. "So — you mean Kleya is a Witch?"
"Yes, with some sort of connection to Cheek."
Medici pinched his chin and frowned slightly. "Though there's also an… incongruent quality to him."
"Pfft."
Melissa laughed.
"What are you laughing at?!"
"I just think — " she said, smiling — "what a coincidence. They put me and her in the same place. One with connections to the Primordial Demoness, one with connections to the Red Angel."
Medici's eyes narrowed. "Idiot. Why are you laughing? Do you think a 'coincidence' in the mystical world is something to be amused by?"
Adam. Could this be you, meddling from the shadows again?
To be continued…
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