"Are you certain? My friend was quite sure that, in fact, the serpent symbolism was related to the Rosicrucians. Now I would hate to tell them they are mistaken, and I do wish to learn more about your Order."

  Sam knew the man, Phineas Trimus, was lying about serpents being in some way connected to the Rosicrucians. She wasn't sure how. In a military interrogation, she would've just beaten the answer out of him. In a civilian interrogation, however, she had no reason to cause this man harm because he had not harmed her. Not that she knew of anyway.

  When someone lies, either in an interrogation or under any circumstances, there are only three options. You could ignore it and move on with your life. You could immediately call it out. You could hint you know they're lying and see if the pressure brings out the truth.

  Most people are uncomfortable with lying and, given the opportunity, would rather relieve themselves of the burden of maintaining the deception than double down and continue to lie. Unless they have a strong reason, people want to tell the truth because it's easier.

  "Yes, Miss Fontaine, I am quite certain," lied Phineas.

  "Alright, well, is there anything you can tell me about this dagger?" Sam pulled out the snake dagger she'd taken and carried on her person ever since. It had been used to make an attempt on her life. She held the blade such that Mr. Trimus did not feel threatened by the gesture. He still bristled and refused to take it from her hand.

  "No." This time, Samantha's eye remained blind. He was telling the truth. Curious.

  "Miss Fontaine, these questions are unusual, your presence is unusual, and I think you are not being honest with me. As I am tired of humoring you, please leave. We have no interest in two-bit sorcerers trying to plumb our secrets, especially in such a clumsy manner."

  "Sir, why did you lie about the symbolism of the serpent?"

  Sam affected an expression of anger and offense without actually feeling those emotions. In truth, she was the party doing wrong in this conversation. She had interrupted this man's day, asked pushy questions with a flimsy excuse, and now accused him directly of lying. Most people, even if they were lying, would take offense at the accusation. She decided to risk it because he had already kicked her out.

  "As I said, Miss Fontaine, you have no affiliation with our Order, and therefore I have no reason to reveal any of our secrets to you. Please leave."

  "Mr. Trimus, I do apologize for any offense given. I will take my leave. Thank you for your time. I do wish you and your Order better luck in the future, and again, I apologize. Have a good afternoon."

  Sam's guilt was genuine. Though the man had lied to her about the symbolism of the serpent, he didn't recognize the dagger at all. This meant he didn't know about the attempt on her life. Sam's working theory was that the Rosicrucians wanted to kill her. But this didn’t hold water. Phineas Trimus seemed like a decent enough guy, and he hadn’t recognized the dagger.

  There were any number of reasons why somebody would want to kill her. She had a long list of villains who wished her ill. She had stolen treasures from the Imperial Army, including a binding of one of the Kings of Hell as well as an artifact of considerable power. A lot of people would be happy to see her dead.

  Sam decided it was time to return home, then make her way over to Emil's house to continue her training in sorcery. She reminded herself to stop for a bottle of wine.

  Lisa Everson was enjoying the weather. She had never really appreciated the winter before. The cold seemed to affect her less, so she didn't need to bundle up as much. She didn't feel like she was being constrained. Lisa hated feeling constrained.

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  She had been feeling positively joyous since leaving her father's house. Moving into Samantha's mansion had been good for her. Why that woman didn't stay there she didn't understand. Lisa supposed she liked being nearer to work, which took her out most nights. Although even as the receptionist she didn't understand what the woman was doing every night. She hardly had any cases. Surely it couldn’t take that much effort to find out where a man with snake eyes came from?

  Lisa had prepared an effective, well-written newspaper ad. She just needed Sam to pay for it.

  She had returned to work after a few days. It struck her that, prior to leaving her father's house, she would have been terrified. But now she was feeling braver. She thought the independence was giving her confidence. The anger she felt at the attack far outweighed any fear. And when she did feel afraid, it made her angrier, which neatly took care of the fear.

  She was more offended that someone dared to break in and threaten her than she was afraid for her life. The way she saw it, she was gonna die one day anyway. May as well go down fighting.

  The young girl she lived with and cared for sometimes, Missy, barely needed any attention. The girl was independent and smart, capable of taking care of herself. It seemed she had been doing so for many years, so her new living arrangement wasn't strange. Except for the size and beauty of the house. From what Sam had told Lisa, Missy's mother had died somewhere on the grounds, but you wouldn't know from the way the girl acted. She cared for her dog, Rex, a cute little thing. The dog hardly ate anything. Missy took her out for walks, despite the cold weather and threat of snow. The girl spent time playing with her outside. Lisa thought it funny that the girl had given a female dog the name Rex. Missy had looked at her like she had two heads when she asked her to explain it.

  In the evenings, when Lisa returned home, Missy would have already returned from school. Most days Missy tried to start a fire. Some days she succeeded. Missy told her she liked looking at the fire more than she liked starting it. So today, Lisa decided she would start a fire for the girl.

  She went and gathered the firewood from outside. Again, she barely needed a jacket despite the frigid winter air. The logs seemed light to her. Barely weighed anything. She set the logs down in the fireplace, gathered up some kindling, and found a pack of matches Missy had set carelessly nearby.

  The girl was wonderful and mature, but still a child. She could be clumsy or careless. Lisa reminded herself to mention the importance of moving the matchbook away from the burning flames.

  Lisa also loved Missy's fires. The look of it, the heat from it, the comfort of it. How it always changed, yet it was always the same.

  And lately it had started to remind her of the dreams she'd been having about a strange man. Lisa wasn't the type to have such inappropriate dreams. She simply wasn't that kind of girl. Not that she was prudish, by any means. Just that dating and men weren't much of a priority for her.

  Her life had been getting better and better. She was looking forward to going to school. She was looking forward to work. And now she was even looking forward to going to sleep.

  She'd be damned if she was going to let the occasional demonic possession, charred corpse, or snake-eyed burglar keep her from enjoying life. That would be ridiculous, especially when she had so much going for her.

  But the anger still burned in her heart. She'd come to hate her own father for his outbursts and the way he casually ignored everything important to her and her mother. She hated her mother's weakness for not standing up to him. She hated the way she had to find someone to walk her home at night. She hated the way men treated her and the way they stared at her without seeing her. The anger burned hot in her belly, so hot sometimes she thought she'd burn up from it.

  She hated being weak. She hated being afraid. She hated being contradicted and objectified and demeaned. She hated how her uncle Albert started talking about her dresses when she turned thirteen. Her father said he was just giving her a compliment, but she could see the way the man looked at her.

  She arranged the logs for the fire and tried to calm herself. Getting angry at her own imagination while she was safe and warm wasn't going to help anything. She was starting classes soon and would learn the science and sorcery necessary to build the future she wanted. She'd make important discoveries and learn how the universe worked. Then, nobody could stand over her.

  She struck the match. It lit easily and she watched the tiny flame. She thought about how a tiny flame from a match could start a roaring fire or burn down a city block. She wanted to be like that tiny flame and burn away all her limitations.

  Lisa stared into the fireplace. She watched the flame take to the logs. As the fire flickered, she thought she saw the face of the man from her dreams take shape, staring at her from inside the glowing warmth.