30 March 1686 of the 6th Era, Ledavia Prison

  The door once again slammed shut, making Antony wince at the unpleasant sound, but he immediately forgot about it. Mr Brook sat down in front of them, looking even more haggard since their last visit. And even more desperate.

  “Please tell me you have good news,” he said the moment the guard left the room. “I was told that my trial was being postponed, but they still refuse to release me.”

  “We’re steadily on the trail,” Charlotte replied, “and have made substantial progress, but I’m afraid there is no way we can put an end to this if you don’t talk.”

  “I told you everything I know.”

  “Please, Mr Brook. You’re not even trying to sound convincing,” Charlotte reprimanded him. “You very well know that you withheld information on the day we first met. That you withheld information from your fiancèe. That you tried to divert my attention by claiming that Lord Welz’s morning coat was all buttoned up.

  “There’s no need to try and disprove my claims. What I want you to understand is that your silence is sentencing hundreds of thousands to an untimely and tragic death. You can continue your game, and I will be forced to look for answers elsewhere, but by the time I get them, it might just be too late.”

  “What do you mean by hundreds of thousands?”

  “This entire city,” she made a broad gesture with her hand.

  “But… How can that…”

  “Mr Brook. Whatever you think you’re entangled in, it is by an entire magnitude larger. What documents did you deliver to the person you refuse to name a few days before 22 January, and why exactly were you trying to flee the country?”

  Mr Brook grasped his head with both hands, staring at the deep cracks in the crude wooden table that stood between him and his two interrogators. His facial muscles twitched, and he mumbled something under his breath, as if debating with himself.

  Neither Charlotte nor Antony moved or said anything, waiting for him to come to his senses.

  “It was Lord Welz’s will, and I took it to Lady Rose Upcher,” he finally replied hoarsely. “She’s the daughter of Lord Richard Upcher, brother of the late Lady Welz.”

  “Why did she want to see it and not, say, have you simply provide her with the required information?” Antony couldn’t contain his curiosity.

  “She wanted to make sure there was no hidden text, at least that was her pretence. Well… It turned out that there was, indeed, something else entirely written on that paper, but I didn’t get to see it. She refused to return it, too, and her father conveniently returned home ‘early’, saw me, and in no uncertain terms told me to leave. Threatened me when I tried to explain the situation.”

  “That being?”

  “Listen, I know where your mind went,” he looked at Antony, then at Charlotte. “I didn’t cheat on Laureen, though granted, the girl’s name fully reflects her appearance. She approached me a few months ago during some social event, quite distraught. One innocent question led to another, and then another, and then suddenly those weren’t innocent questions at all. She told me that she believed Lord Welz killed his wife, her aunt who she loved dearly, as the woman was like a second mother to her. I was shocked by that bold statement. Demanded to know where she got the information from, and if she had proof. While I couldn’t believe a single word she said, there was something about the way she said it that… I didn’t walk away. I didn’t want to work for someone with blood on his hands, lest I be held responsible. After all, a personal secretary is privy to all sorts of secrets, and if it comes to light that their employer did something heinous, they’ll inevitably get dragged into the mud with them. I had enough of that for simply being Nakaran.”

  Mr Brook drew a long breath, lowering his head even further, so that his voice became rather muffled, “Turns out she did have some evidence. They had hired a private detective a few years ago to look into the matter, and he indeed dug quite a few disturbing facts on Lord Welz and the Northern Star, as well as on Lady Welz’s declining health. Once she presented those to me, I, too, remembered finding it weird how poor her health was one day, and how lively she seemed the next. And she was always, how should I describe it?.. There was always this air about her, as if she was constantly afraid of her own shadow. She also obeyed her husband’s every word, not daring to contradict him, even though I knew that their views were the polar opposites of each other. I was crushed to hear that she had passed away suddenly after yet another bout of sickness. But now I cannot help but wonder… Just a few days before she fell ill, she had a quarrel with Lord Welz. Something about a charity event she really wanted to attend. If she was being used to fuel some vile ritual Lord Welz was conducting…”

  “He was one abhorrent piece of shit,” Antony murmured under his breath, adding a few more choice swear words to the pile.

  “Obviously I asked Lady Upcher why she didn’t present any of that to the officials, and she explained that the detective tried to contact the Nightmare Poets regarding the matter, but his request was declined.”

  “Not declined. Lost in the bureaucratic machine,” Charlotte corrected him. “Though now I am beginning to wonder if Lord Upcher has any influence or his own people in the branch.”

  “How should I know,” Mr Brook scoffed. “Either way, her innocence and sincerity won me over, and if those weren’t enough, the information she provided sealed it. I promised to look into it for her. First, I ascertained that the necklace was indeed exchanged. Mrs Greeves once described it to me as a beautiful piece with pearls and an emerald in the shape of a star. No such thing was stored in Lord Welz’s safe. Furthermore, I found evidence that he had sold the original Northern Star some years prior, though I’m not sure when. Obviously a private collector, and I wasn’t involved in the transaction in any way.

  “What I saw there was a stone similar to a ruby, attached to a golden chain. Exactly the same as the artefact that Lady Upcher had described to me. As I dug further, I noticed a few more patterns. Whenever Lady Welz fell ill, something happened to one of Lord Welz’s competitors. Mishaps, accidents. Sometimes lethal, other times just enough to get them out of the race for whatever he was coveting. Too much of a coincidence, I thought, and Lady Upcher agreed with me. Then… I don’t know why she got the idea that there had to be something more to Lord Welz’s last will, but she was convincing enough in her arguments that I just obeyed without much thought.”

  “That sounds like a charm spell,” Charlotte observed.

  “Why didn’t you go to the authorities?”

  “With what?” Mr Brook looked at Antony. “It’s not illegal to sell a piece of jewelry that belongs to you, buy another piece and pretend it is the one you had sold. Who cares if it’s a different gemstone entirely. And everything else… Conjecture at best, wild fantasies at worst. Besides, I’m from Nakara, remember? Do you really believe someone would have listened to my ramblings?

  “Hey guys, I think this ruby looks like an artefact from the Eastern Archipelago that I heard about once many years ago. No, I’ve never seen it, but this ruby is definitely it! No, I’m not an expert exorcist, nor a history expert, why?” His voice was shrill, almost broken.

  “You could have told all of this to the investigation team when you were arrested, or told us when we visited last time,” Antony shook his head. “Even if you had no evidence, I would have listened at least, and so would–”

  “There’s one more question Mr Brook is refusing to answer,” Charlotte quietly interrupted him. “The one he refused to answer during our last meeting, too. Why did you run, Mr Brook?”

  He remained silent, not daring to look at either Antony or Charlotte.

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  “Mr Brook, do you know which goddess I serve?”

  Antony half-turned to look at her, hearing how strained her voice was. Charlotte put her hand to the locket on her neck, a single red lily in the middle of a depiction of a silvery full moon.

  “Lady of the Dead Moon,” he finally uttered.

  “And do you know what every cleric serving her is exceptionally good at? Even the ones who can barely cast Mending?” She closed her eyes, and her voice became soft, akin to a mother singing a lullaby to a child. “Mr Brook, we see dead people for what they are.

  “I thought I was hallucinating the last time we met. You seemed completely normal, no signs of decay or vampirism, or traits typical for a werewolf. Mr Levy here, too, was unable to discern anything being amiss. Yet, I felt this characteristic smell, and I still feel it, even stronger now. Though I guess it’s not exactly a smell, but an aura that I am able to discern.”

  “I still neither feel nor see anything,” Antony confirmed, his body stiff. No, his eyes were not able to discern anything wrong with Mr Brook no matter how carefully he looked. Whatever Charlotte was seeing, it was indistinguishable even with True Sight.

  “You do remember that I wondered how Mr Brook managed to survive the attack, don’t you? I don’t quite recall when we had this conversation. If it was before or after I realised what kind of creature we were dealing with. Nor does it matter. My experience with Undeath has taught me that there are no survivors in this kind of attack. If someone has survived, they are either in cohorts with the attackers, or they are victims, just that they don’t know about it yet.

  “Mr Brook, you were running away because you hoped to get help in Nakara. Only to realise that the further you got from Ledavia, the weaker you became. So weak, in fact, that when you were stopped for questioning you couldn’t utter a single coherent sentence, drew the attention of the borderguard, and it escalated from there.

  “You didn’t survive the attack. You were murdered, and then brought back to life to feed the creature inside the artefact. Every time it manifests, it steals your lifeforce, whatever years you have left to live. Thankfully, you’re a member of a long-lived species, so ten years here or there doesn’t make that big of a difference, but… But still.”

  “Wait,” Antony felt a chill run down his spine. “Lord Welz gave everyone a day off. Everyone but you. Does that mean that…”

  “When he realised I was the one who took the will out of the safe, he confronted me. I tried to explain to him that Lady Upcher tricked me into showing it to her, pretending to be investigating her aunt’s death, and one thing after another… He seemed to have calmed down a bit,” Mr Brook finally looked at them, sobbing. “I thought we came to an understanding, but there is none to be had with that man. He does not tolerate nor forgive anything even remotely resembling betrayal. You might have wondered why most of the staff are recent hires. The moment he so much as suspects disloyalty or dissatisfaction, he lets people go. He also fired everyone but Mrs Greeves back when he became head of the family because one of the maids had the nerve to utter something suggesting his father was a better man than him.

  “I thought that was just a horrible character trait, but didn’t realise what it meant for me. That dreadful night when I finished writing letters for him and was about to leave the study, he overpowered me. I didn’t know a man of his age and stature could have that much strength in him still. When I came to my senses, I… I…”

  “No need to explain. I understand.”

  “That was when Lord Upcher came into the room. Turned out Lord Welz wanted to get rid of him, too, and invited him to discuss Lady Welz’s demise. Welz wanted to set that thing onto Lord Upcher, but something went wrong. Instead, it attacked him, killing him on the spot, and then stood to attention next to Upcher. I… I hoped I was being saved, but he just grinned and said I did well, then told me to go to bed and that my life depended on me staying silent about all of this. That Laureen’s life depended on it.

  “The last thing I saw was him wrestling the ruby from Lord Welz’s hand, which had gone surprisingly stiff. The rest you know,” he lay on the table, dragging his finger across one of the cracks in the wood. There was no hope in his voice when he continued, “I guess this is it for me?”

  “Not yet,” Charlotte clasped her hands together in deep thought. “I can break the link that was created between you and that thing, while also not allowing you to cross to the afterworld. But the latter part will depend on you and your desire to live.”

  He sat up, staring at her, unable to believe the words he just heard. If Antony were to guess, for the first time since that dreadful day Mr Brook felt a tiny ray of hope shine through the grates, warming his tired soul and body.

  “However, there’s an issue,” she continued. “The moment it happens, it is very possible that Lord Upcher will know that his game is up, and he might attempt something incredibly stupid. The ghoul will probably still be under his control, but it will require blood to sustain. Do you know why he might have wanted the thing in the first place? I doubt that he simply used the opportunity. The fact that the thing changed allegiances means that he had ample time to study everything he could find on it. If anything, he agreed to this meeting in the dead of the night precisely because he found a way to retrieve it.”

  “My best guess would be an assassination attempt,” Mr Brook said after some consideration, looking directly at Antony. “Surely you’ve heard the rumours.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “What did you forget to tell me?”

  “It’s beginning to make sense now. Lord Upcher really wanted to become a member of the council at the RAS, but Lord Blackwater and Lord Welz both strongly opposed his nomination. Damn it. I’m really sorry, I should have realised much sooner.”

  “There’s our missing link. And don’t apologise, Mr Levy. We both made mistakes. I suggest you find a way to warn Lord Blackwater that his life might be in danger. And use a Sending spell to inform Lady Sayles that she has the full cooperation of the Church of the Dead Moon in apprehending a dangerous criminal. Cardinal Whitesand should contact her shortly, too.

  “Now… Mr Brook, are you ready?”

  “Don’t think I’ll be more ready than now,” he straightened up, not quite knowing what to expect.

  Charlotte stood up and leaned over the table, and, to the astonishment of both men, simply touched Mr Brook’s hand.

  Time stopped. A drowsy fly that was woken up by the deceitful March sun hung in the air, motionless. A drop of water that fell into a puddle on the floor from the leaking ceiling sent ripples, but they never reached the edges.

  Charlotte’s entire body changed. From the tips of her fingers to the very last hair, she was woven of starlight, as bright as the sun, but at the same time as dim as the tiny specks adorning the firmament at night. It was unbearably cold, so cold that a thin layer of ice quickly spread around her, threatening to cover everything in this room, both alive and inanimate.

  Mr Brook sat, unmoving, staring at the table, with his face frozen in surprise, fear, and the faintest shimmer of hope, and around him, slowly formed the figure of the ghoul they had previously fought.

  “Away with you,” the voice belonged to her, but somehow also… didn’t.

  The ghoul screeched, but this time it was not a sound that made one’s heart skip a beat in fear. No, this time, the ghoul was the one that feared what was coming, as a pitch black portal appeared behind it and a myriad of translucent hands grabbed it, dragging it inside.

  The apparition disappeared, and the room returned to normal. Mr Brook took a deep breath, then another, then quietly laughed.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “It is my duty,” Charlotte smiled in return. “Though I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here a bit longer. Until Lord Upcher is apprehended at least.”

  “I’ve stayed here for this long already, what’s another couple of weeks.”

  ******

  The large metal door closed behind them with a thud, dividing the world of the free from those incarcerated and awaiting trial. Antony closed his eyes, enjoying the warm sun caressing his skin.

  “I can’t say I like visiting prisons or morgues,” he said after a bit of a pause, “but it is… exciting in a way. Unnerving, but exciting. Will you be alright after all of this? You–”

  “Provided I don’t get dragged into fighting more powerful ghosts. I think I overdid it a bit with the exorcism,” she elegantly stretched, trying to get rid of the unpleasant feeling in her shoulders. “Don’t think Lord Upcher can hurt anyone with that artefact anymore.”

  “You broke it?” There was a mixture of disapproval and admiration in his tone. “While I understand why you did it, it’s still an important artefact, a piece of history.”

  “You people and preservation of heritage. I didn’t destroy it, just neutralised its main function. I warned you just now, but I think my fears were ungrounded. He won’t know something’s wrong until he tries to summon the creature.

  “Which is for the better. We don’t want him to actually go and do something stupid, like try and get rid of the evidence, do we now?”

  “That would be a lot of time wasted,” Antony agreed. “What now?”

  “I think they can apprehend the man without my help,” she shrugged. “All I want now is a proper vacation, Mr Levy. We can begin with a walk down that wonderful promenade near the riverbank, and continue from there.”

  “What about the case that the Nightmare Poets–”

  “A proper vacation, Mr Levy. No more cases. No more burglars, murderers, necromancers, would be necromancers, or cursed artefacts. Only walks, books, and stargazing, in no particular order.”