Fred laid out the details of everything that had happened to him the previous night. The more he spoke to Damien about the encounter, the more Damien’s brow furrowed. When he mentioned the light-haired necromancer Damien became very preoccupied with his mug of coffee.

  He was hiding something.

  This was nothing new. Damien would shut down or deflect when topics of his past were brought up. He was especially cagey about the years before Fred came into his service. That unfortunately was something Fred could relate to. Some scars could never be healed, but this was for the case. If he knew this Necro then it might be a lead to something more.

  “What do you know?”

  “What do you mean?” Damien rotated around to the coffee pot by the sink and began to refill his mug with more cold coffee.

  “I mean what do you know about this Necro? She an ex-girlfriend? She someone at O.S.A.?”

  Damien’s shoulders slumped as he finished pouring the coffee. “I think it’s someone extremely dangerous.”

  “That’s fine. We’ve dealt with dangerous. You remember that cult last Harvestide? Those guys—”

  “It’s not the same, Fred. This … this woman. If it is who I think it is, then she’s with the Inquisition.” Damien turned back and met Fred’s eyes.

  An Inquisitor? They were boogeymen. Parents told stories of the Inquisition coming in the dead of night to take unruly children from their beds. It was mostly a fabrication. Fred knew the Inquisition existed as did everyone else. It was more comforting to hide in the stories rather than deal with what they actually did.

  “Myths,” Fred said.

  “Not entirely.”

  “Go on.”

  “The Inquisition is made up of some of the most talented casters, manipulators, and killers in the world. They get contracted out by the Council for certain … operations.”

  Fred narrowed his eyes. “You were one of them.” Damien’s jaw tightened. His eyes were dark. Intense. “What did you do?”

  “Don’t pretend like you’re innocent. I did what I was told.”

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  “Damien … the Inquisition? The things they do. I would hope they aren’t real. What would Edi think—"

  Damien pulsed energy into his hand and grabbed Fred’s arm holding it up. “Let’s not pretend like we are both innocents.”

  Fred pulled his wrist away. “I didn’t steal babies from their mother’s arms.”

  “We’re done with this conversation.” Damien stomped toward the door.

  Fred had a biting remark but held his tongue. Damien only lashed out when things hit too close to home and Fred knew how painful some memories could be. Once again it was up to him to be the bigger person. Fred started toward the door, but noticed Damien had left his mug of coffee behind. He felt a surge of anger and knocked the mug to the side. He felt his hand connect with the mug and sent it sailing into the sink. Frigid coffee dripped from his hand onto the floor. Fred breathed in and out rapidly and watched the coffee drip down the front of the counter. He looked down at his hands. The coffee eventually dripped through his hand onto the floor. That felt … amazing. What else could he do? Could he open doors? Could he choke someone? The sound of the door closing and the lock clicking into place sent a jolt through his thoughts. What was that? Was he losing it? He pushed through the wall and out into the hallway behind Damien.

  The two of them made their way out of the apartment and into the streets of Windcrest. It was through the sheer luck of the Gods that they avoided Florence on their way out of the building. That was one odd ghost. What had she said? Something about azure clouds and frozen depths? Fred shook his head.

  “Something on your mind?” Damien said. He kept his attention on the ground as they walked.

  Fred let out a sigh. “I just hope one day I don’t go crazy like some of these Wanderers,” Fred navigated around a cluster of children drifting slowly passed.

  Damien looked in the direction of where the ghostly children had gone. He closed his eyes and with an inhale he opened them. Both of Damien’s pupils had gone a stark white blue. A faint bit of mist rose from each eye and dissipated upward as if he were crying in the wrong direction. He could see into the Ethereal.

  The children passed through two living Elves that were hunkered down against the cold. Each of the Elves noticeably trembled. For a moment Fred and Damien stood in silence and watched the children move down the street and out of sight. Damien blinked again and exhaled. The solid white-blue color of his pupils faded back to their normal green. The Elves gave Damien a wide berth and moved quickly away from them down the sidewalk.

  “Fred, I won’t pretend to be perfect. Neither of us are. I don’t know what kept you here, bound to the Prime. I can only hope that we at least try to be better than our pasts. Maybe then you could move on. Go to someplace … better.”

  “I doubt it. Besides … I don’t think I am going anywhere better,” Fred held up his hand and showed the wounds on his wrist. He felt that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach again.

  They started down the sidewalk once more. As they passed by an alley, Fred could see several of the living hunkered beneath boxes. It seemed that living was a lot more like surviving nowadays. Most had pink crystals growing from the corners of their mouths or over their eyes. Signs of heavy Fate use.

  “Anywhere is better than here sometimes,” Damien said turning away from the alley.