Getting past her awakening day had been the last mountain to climb before Ivy could truly feel at ease in her old home. With it now behind her, she could…relax. Kind of. Save for the emergence of the demon, it had gone by rather uneventful. Sure, it had been pretty awful, but she now knew she could handle it. The awakenings of the past were no more.

And so when she strode through the front door of the Bloody Flag with a smile on her face, her mood was infectious. The men and women of the guild house greeted her with equal cheer, calling out her embarrassing alias as she passed. Many offered up mugs of wine and ale, eager to coax some coin out of her over a game of cards or dice. She had many times fallen to temptation before, and even now pondered the taste of the wine that the guild had most recently procured, but she’d have to abstain for now.

The appearance of the demon had thrown her off with regards to her power, and she itched to express her strength in a way she could control—as much as she could control the witch world, at least. She needed a job. A distraction.

When she reached the second floor, more cries of “Dragonfly!” assaulted her ears. Like before, they lured her in with the promise of alcohol and laughter, but she really did need to flex her witchy muscle today. On the third floor, Marris was waiting in the hallway beside the Prince’s office. He was one of two of the Prince’s assistants who were never too far from their master. Marris also happened to be the one that she had met the same day she had first surprised the Prince in his office. Ever since then, he had grated on her nerves.

When he saw her striding down the hallway toward him, he made no effort to conceal an exaggerated exhale of breath. He might be the only person in the whole guild house that she suspected didn’t like her. Or at least didn’t pretend to. With a hundred rumors going about—the foremost of all being that she was the Prince’s lover—pretty much everyone tried to get in her good graces. That combined with Ivy’s thought that she was generally enjoyable to be around made her question why this man disliked her so. He was quite different than the others, never taking part in the gambling or drinking that had assimilated her with the rest.

“Marris,” she said, once within a few paces.

“His highness is busy,” he said, not bothering to greet her.

She made for the door and reached out to the handle, but Marris stepped in her way, grabbing her wrist.

“Did you not hear me?” he asked.

Ivy let only her eyes shift down to look at the offending hand touching her.

“Are you sure this is the way you want to go?” she said. “You know I can get inside whenever I want. What makes you think you can stop me?”

The creases around Marris’ mouth deepened, and the exposed scalp atop his head began to turn a shade of pink.

“Yes, how do you do that?”

“Magic,” she said, before immediately cursing herself.

“Are you telling me you’re a witch?”

Agh. This was exactly the kind of thing Rose had warned her about. About her being careless and stupid and feeling untouchable.

“If I was, perhaps you should let go of me,” Ivy said, “before I set you ablaze with the flames of hell.”

Finally, he backed off, causing Ivy to smile. His gaze fell to her waist.

“Why do you carry a blade if you never intend to wield it?” he asked.

“Would you like to find out?”

She didn’t wait for an answer and swung open the door to the Prince’s office. Before she could take a step through it, Marris had one last thing to say.

“I don’t know how you seduced his highness, but I will find out.”

Sure you will. Ivy told herself the man was no threat, but she had been pretty dumb in front of him. She stepped in and slammed the door shut. The Bloody Prince was sitting at his desk, slumped over, his cheek flat against its surface. He didn’t so much as twitch at the sound of the door closing.

“Marris wasn’t lying,” Ivy said, “you are busy.”

“Dragonfly,” he said, still unmoving, “perfect timing.”

“Oh?” Ivy rose an eyebrow. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen him…worn out.

The Prince rose from his desk to rest his body against his high-backed chair. His stare drilled a hole through her.

“I have a job for you.” Oh, that did sound perfect. “I need you to kill someone for me.”

“Ah,” Ivy said, then processed what he had just said, “wait, what?”

“Don’t tell me all of that attitude from when we met was all just talk?”

“Well…”

“Have you ever killed someone before, Dragonfly?”

“I have,” Ivy said, remembering the night of her awakening and the thugs who had killed her friends, “but that doesn’t mean I will at your order.”

The Prince let out a raspy huff.

“So you refuse?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said, surprising herself by not outright saying no, “what did he do?”

“Do?”

Ivy made her way to the couch without a word and flopped down on it. She laid down lengthwise with her legs dangling over one edge. Huh. This one wasn’t so bad. It was the fourth replacement within the last year, Ivy having never been satisfied. For once, it might just do. She grinned, and found a matching expression on the Prince’s face for just a moment before it disappeared and he continued to gaze at her with a stoic intensity.

“You know, some people might deserve it,” she said, swinging her legs over the arm of the couch and reclining into the plush cushions, “executions are a thing after all.” She once again thought of the man she had killed and how much he had deserved it. And how much the other two who she hadn't killed still deserved it.

“Is that so?”

“You didn’t think I’d kill someone just because he got in the way of whatever mysterious plan you have with your maps and hidden wealth, did you?”

He stood.

“Fine. Return in a day and I’ll have evidence of his crimes if that's what you need.”

Ivy nodded.

"Oh, and one more thing while you're at it," she said, "I need you to find someone for me. Two someones."

Ivy did as the Bloody Prince asked, returning to the guild house on the eve of the next day. She had zero desire to run into Marris again, diligently guarding the Prince’s office, and instead called to the power lying dormant at her core. It took only four heartbeats this time before slipping into the witch world. Despite not going for cover beforehand, the chances of anyone seeing her in the darkness were low, if that even mattered in the first place. After her conversation with Rose, Ivy suspected she could vanish right in front of a crowd and they’d remain oblivious.

The dizzying, colorless angles of her new perspective swirled around her, threatening to break apart her mind from all sides. She spun on her heel, eyes shut tight. When she opened them, it wouldn't be there. It shouldn't be there. It had no reason to. What did it gain by watching her? Her hopes were crushed just like every other time she entered the witch world since her latest awakening day. A chill ran down her spine the moment she dared to lift one eyelid. The demon's blank, bottomless gaze and toothy smile was there as always.

Unlike everything else, it held a definite form under Ivy's lens of power. It never spoke, never moved, just stared, watching. Constantly watching. Ivy glared back, though her resolve was quickly fading. The demon's regard made her crawl underneath her skin, made her believe everything that the church said was true.

No. No! She blinked a few times, clearing from her head both the image of the demon and the clutter of curving lines before her. It had no sway over her. It didn't even do anything. She had come for the Bloody Prince's job, and she wouldn't let some immaterial shadow of a creature stop her.

All she needed to do was locate Mister Couch’s cousin in the Prince’s office and follow whatever path opened up to her. Lately, she had been learning to identify doors and windows as well, as she thought the two could be useful. The only problem was the things were everywhere. They were also all different enough to give her a headache if she tried to single one out.

For now, she squinted, searching both high and low. The couch being on the third floor of the house didn’t mean much in this twisted landscape. Still, she found it quite readily. The shape had become like an old friend to her in the otherwise broken world. The Prince’s latest model could almost be said to be comparable to Rose’s and even in the witch world, its similarities were evident.

Ivy walked along the path open to only her, traveling up and through the air in the real world, yet just following the gnarled lines of her own. In less than the time it would take to walk from her room in Rose’s home to the front door, she had left the street and now stood in front of the Prince’s couch. Its surface covered with a forest of short, protruding tentacles, it didn’t appear to be anything she’d ever want to rest on.

Turning, she saw the grotesque wriggling form of the Prince at his desk. His spindly little appendages combed over a set of innumerable overlapping circles all settled amongst a sea of alternating spines. She had watched him obsess over his maps and documents before, but every time it struck her how strange such a mundane thing could appear under the lens of her power.

Not deigning to give the demon a final glance, she let go of the witch world and sank into the cushions behind her, snuggling her body into the perfect position. These days, the transition between her altered sight was less jarring, and she sat back, studying the prince without a sound, color and reason coming back to her. After a few minutes he still had not noticed her, and she continued to wait.

Eventually he cursed, slammed a fist against his desk, and shoved a stack of papers to the ground. When he looked up from the mess, his eyes found Ivy and he jerked upright.

“Problems?” Ivy asked.

The Prince deflated somewhat, sagging back into his chair. He let out a audible breath before speaking.

“You know, at first I thought your obsession with my sofa had something to do with how you get in here.” Well, he wasn’t wrong. “But I’ve searched a thousand times. There’s nothing there. No trapdoor hidden beneath, no secret passageway behind. It’s just a place to sit.”

Ivy patted the cushion to her immediate left.

“Comfy, though,” she said.

“Right. Well, I’ve got what you asked for.” He gestured to his desk. “Somewhere around here.”

She eyed the sheets of papers strewn about.

“Why don’t you just tell me. Why should I kill someone for you?”

“You should kill him for yourself,” the Prince said.

“Is that so?”

“He abuses his wealth and power. Hurts people. Girls.”

Ivy didn’t like the way he emphasized that last word. She scoffed at his reasoning.

“You have men in your own guild who do the same.”

“You’re probably right. You’ve drank and played dice with them most likely.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Are you telling me to slaughter your own people as well?”

Her question only spurred him on. He rose from his seat and sauntered over to where she lounged. His massive frame hung over her as he leaned his torso forward, looking down at her. Did he think he could frighten her? What a joke. She had a demon watching over her. What was a large man in comparison?

“But you see,” he said, “this case is different. Me, you, my people…we get caught and punishment comes to us. This man I speak of? Everyone knows his crimes, yet nothing is done. Doesn’t that just aggravate you?”

Based on his clenched jaw and the sound of his grinding teeth, it probably aggravated him, at the very least. Though, Ivy couldn’t deny it either. In fact, just proof of the act would have been enough for her, guild mate or otherwise. This was just icing on the cake. Except she had never eaten cake before. Then...the blanket atop the couch? That sounded better.

The Prince's torso was still arched over her and she chuckled. “Why are you hovering over me like a creep?” she asked.

The Bloody Prince frowned, and then backed away.

“You are a strange girl,” he said.

“You’re a strange old man!”

“Old man?”

Ivy rolled her eyes. This was the second time he had reacted like this. The description was accurate as far she was concerned, but his reaction was a bit much. His mouth hung half open, standing there completely still. She tapped a finger on her knee waiting for something more, but nothing came.

“What’s wrong with you?” she finally asked.

The Prince closed his eyes for the length of a single deep breath, and then regained his composure, shaking his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said, “the job?”

Ivy had known for a while what her answer would be, but there was more to talk about.

"Do you have what I asked for?" she said.

"It's all there on my desk."

"Good. I'll do it."