“I lost the priest,” was the first thing Ash said when he got back, disheveled and slightly frazzled.

Faith lounged back in her beribboned chair, the epitome of elegant ennui. “That’s all right,” she drawled, waving a hand listlessly as if she just couldn’t muster the energy. “The Church will probably execute or Hollow him.” At the thought, she suddenly perked up and started gesticulating enthusiastically. “There’s a basement in the Sanctorium where they keep the fallen. You can hear their screams ringing off nearby buildings!”

“There’s a what?” yelped Ash, appalled by the Church’s transgressions. “It’s unacceptable to keep people in eternal torment!”

“I agree,” said Faith with a twist of her lips. Sinking back into her chair, she trailed a languid hand over the armrest. “It was driving down property values, so the Church has added soundproofing in the past few years.”

“We can’t just leave them there!” cried Ash.

Bored again, Faith shrugged. “Oh, don’t worry, the bodies decay eventually. It’s only the ghosts that are stuck there forever – or at least until Doskvol falls. And then the Sanctorium will collapse, and specters driven mad by too much faith and too much drugs will be released to wreak havoc on the city. They will take revenge upon and possess everyone, humans and demons alike.”

Now that just sounded like wishful thinking. No demon I’d ever heard of could be controlled by a mere ghost.

In perfect agreement with me, Ash gave Faith a reproachful look. “How about something that doesn’t take ten millennia?” he proposed drily. “We can target the Immortal Emperor.”

Ironically, I reminded him, “Who’s going to pay us?”

“All those who stand to benefit,” Ash replied immediately. He seemed to have put some thought into the matter already. “But for now, I want to blow up the wards around the Sanctorium and free all the possessed people.”

Faith yawned widely without bothering to cover her mouth. “That would be bad for property values. Are you long or short?”

“Short, of course,” Ash retorted. “What do you take me for?” Turning to me, he inquired, “What’s your take on the Church?”

Promptly, I replied, “It’s not big in U’Duasha. If it leaves me alone, I leave it alone.”

“Except that it doesn’t,” Ash said, somewhat nonsensically. (Given our activities tonight, it was really more the other way around.) “We should check on the ghost that’s possessing the priest.”

“You mean the mad ghost?” Faith drawled, arching an eyebrow as if she were edging towards interested.

“What does that have to do with us?” I protested at the same time.

With infinite sweetness and patience, Faith explained, “Because, Isha, we should make friends with people who have the same level of social aptness and mental instability as ourselves. It’s important to befriend our peers, and if they happen to be mad ghosts, then we should grow to accept that.”

I didn’t even know what to say.

More practically, Ash pointed out, “A high-ranking contact in the Church will be helpful.”

After tonight, probably – except that I wouldn’t exactly call the priest of a church in Charterhall “high ranking.” I objected, “What good will he do us if he’s just going to be caught and disintegrated?”

Faith opened her mouth, but Ash quickly forestalled her sermon on the utility of possessed priests. “A more competent ghost might not get caught. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to do more research. There has to be a way to block ghosts from being scried on and identified when they’re possessing humans, even within the Church of Ecstasy.”

The next morning, one of Ilacille’s acolytes reported to me that Ash had paid a visit to the priestess to inquire if she drew power from the gods.

“What did she say?” I asked, curious in spite of myself.

The acolyte shook her head. “She said that one doesn’t serve the gods for power. One serves them because they are there. And then she added that if he’s serving for power, he will have a short career.”

We both winced.

“How did Ash respond to that?” I had a guess, but I wanted to hear it confirmed.

The acolyte shook her head again. “He asked if That Which Hungers would accept anything less. And the priestess said that he’s chosen his god well.”

I could have told her that.

What I couldn’t have told her, however, was what Ash inadvertently let slip.

Without preamble, he demanded, “What do you think of these two Hollowed bodies with ghosts?”

Completely confused, I asked, “What Hollowed bodies?” I thought the entire point of arranging the overdose for Skannon was so that no one got Hollowed.

Matter-of-factly, Ash rattled off, “Chime and the priest, although I suppose technically the priest isn’t Hollowed, just possessed – ”

I interrupted in a shrill voice, “Chime? What do you mean, Chime? We didn’t Hollow Chime!”

Ash gave me a look as if I were being particularly dense or unreasonable, and he didn’t have time to figure out which so I’d better cut it out. “Of course we Hollowed Chime. What did you think happened to him?”

“We never said anything about Hollowing Chime! Faith would never do something like that!”

“Faith?” Now Ash was genuinely shocked. “You think Faith wouldn’t do something like that? Isha, do you know anything Faith wouldn’t do – well, once anyway, and then she’d get bored?”

I had no better argument than: “No! She wouldn’t do such a thing!”

“What do you think all the screaming was?”

“She was recreating a Bluecoat interrogation! She was torturing him! Of course he was screaming!”

“Yeeees, and then when she was done torturing him, she Hollowed him.”

“That’s not true!”

“Isha, look, either way he was going to end up dead and we were going to end up with a body. This way, we could sell it to Nyryx afterwards and make some money.”

“No! Our crew doesn’t do things like that! That’s not who we are!”

After a certain point, Ash gave up on whatever he’d planned to ask me and left me to my shrieking.

I did calm down in time to tail him to Catcrawl Alley in the Docks, where he leaned casually against a wall and scanned the Menagerie with detached interest until Nyryx arrived. (When I saw her, I shuddered, thinking of how she’d literally bought Chime’s body, knowing the torture and desecration that had created it.)

The Reconciled swayed up to Ash and asked in her – or rather, her possibly-Hollowed body’s – husky voice, “You were looking for me?”

Ash got right to the point. “We have shared enemies. There is no easy way to upset the order of the Church, but someone – a Reconciled someone – high in its hierarchy could work wonders. It will be difficult, but it may be possible.”

Neither Nyryx’s face nor tone gave anything away. “So…I’m still listening.” A group of dockers staggered by with angrily rumbling crates, and she leaned in close as if to proposition Ash. “We’ve considered this ourselves, you know. There are still logistical details.”

“I’m working on them,” Ash assured her, so focused on his goal that he barely registered her proximity. “Obviously there’s a price, especially for those performing the ritual, but we have a lot to gain.”

The Reconciled pulled away and probed delicately, “So you’re trying to set the Church against the Emperor? All of Faith’s plans didn’t seem good enough?”

There was a startled silence in the alley. For once, Ash’s Slide instincts failed him.

Nyryx’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you and Faith were working together.”

He tried to recover. “Yes, we are,” he insisted. “On the ritual.”

She gave him an odd look but conceded, “It can work. I can find volunteers.” She hesitated, then warned, “I will point out, though, that we have all the time in the world. It’s only the living who are impatient.”

“Yes, yes, I know that,” said the living dismissively, effectively proving the Reconciled’s point.

As proof that some humans could be patient (and persistent and pretty darn courageous too), I slunk off to the Sensorium to check on my archivist even though I was no longer certain that I wanted to know what Faith was up to. I caught him locking the back door before he headed home for supper. Without a word, I fell in beside him.

He squeaked.

“Keep walking,” I directed in a low voice. “Act normal.”

Although he cast a fleeting glance at the nearest government office, as if debating whether to dash for it, he obeyed. Side by side, we trotted east across the district until the cupolas of Six Towers loomed above the mist.

Mother was right: Some agents really did require more prodding than others. “We’re almost home.” His home, that was. “What do you have for me?”

The archivist cringed and craned his neck conspicuously, checking the street for anyone who might overhear us. I suppressed a sigh. “She came in two days ago,” he stage-whispered. “She asked for a memory of the Charhallow Conflagration.”

I’d never heard of such a thing. “What’s that?”

He sniffed. “I don’t keep track of doings in Charhallow.”

I quelled him with a flat stare. “All knowledge is useful,” I reproved him. Mimicking Mother’s silky tone, I elaborated, “For example, if you’d had knowledge of what happened during the Charhallow Conflagration, you might have made yourself useful to me.”

The archivist’s eyes bulged like a devilfish’s. “I am useful, miss! I know it had something to do with a sermon! Because Madame Keitel said that she had both the conflagration and the sermon that led up to it!”

I nodded approvingly. “That’s better, but still not all that informative. What else do you have?”

“Mistress Karstas was involved somehow!”

Why did that not surprise me? “Oh?”

“Yes! Madame Keitel asked if she – Mistress Karstas, I mean – were feeling nostalgic! Then she asked if things were extra good or extra bad right now.”

Now I was curious. “And what did Mistress Karstas say?”

“She said she wasn’t entirely sure.”

Huh. Was she having second thoughts about Hollowing Chime? No, that wasn’t the sort of thing that would bother Faith.

“Then Madame Keitel said that it’s been a long time since she saw Mistress Karstas like this.”

“What did she mean by ‘this’?”

The archivist shrank in on himself. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “She didn’t say.”

I sighed and waved him on. I might have been more gentle, but I wasn’t in the mood. “Go on. I don’t have all night, and neither do you. I’m sure your family is waiting.”

The archivist gulped. “Mistress Karstas said that things are more chaotic and violent, that they’re different, that it’s a nice change of pace from Setarra.”

“Setarra? What’s a Setarra?”

The archivist flinched. “I don’t – ”

“Know,” I finished for him. “Fine. Keep going.”

“Madame Keitel asked, ‘Are you involved with demons again?'”

“What?” I yelped, completely forgetting to keep my voice down. “Did you say demons?”

The archivist started to panic. “Yes? I think that’s what she said? I think I heard right? I think I remembered right?”

“Demons,” I repeated numbly. “Mistress Karstas is involved with demons.”

A black crystal spire rose in my vision, half-obscured by wisps of smoke, and Grandfather’s voice echoed, Child, all you have to do is….

The Patriarch’s eyes glowed with malice as he watched my cousins duel to death before his throne.

Claws clamped around my legs, dragging me down, down, down into the depths of the canal. I couldn’t breath – I was choking, drowning –

Wait, wait, calm down, Isha. Ash is part-demon. Maybe Faith was involved with Tycherosi in the past as well.

The archivist’s next words allayed my fears. “She said, ‘Yes, although the demon in question would be insulted to be called such. You’ve met my Tycherosi friend.'”

See, Isha? Nothing to worry about, nothing at all to worry about.

“And then she said, ‘And the girl too. She’s not a demon, but she’s tainted, although it’s not clear she knows it yet.'”

I froze.

That could only be me.

But tainted? By a demon? How? All these years, I’d been so careful to reject Grandfather’s corruption. I refused to listen to him, refused to let him help me, refused to allow him past my defenses.

Except – except when I did.

When I lay bleeding in an alley in U’Duasha and he advised me to flee to Doskvol. When I was dueling Ronia Helker and couldn’t hope to win and he lent me strength. When I was drowning in the canal and he drove off the water demon. What had he roared then? You can’t have her. She’s mine!

She’s mine.

I’m his. I’m his. Oh gods, I’m demon tainted and Faith knows it and never told me.

No expert at reading body language, the archivist was still babbling away. “And then Mistress Karstas said, “But now I’m exhausted. That was too much truth for one month.’ And Madame Keitel removed some memories from her and they told each other, ‘I love you’ – ” the archivist looked as if he weren’t convinced Faith was capable of love, and I was sure my expression echoed his – “and then Mistress Karstas left.” He looked at me hopefully, like Sleipnir begging for a pastry. “That’s all I have, miss.”

Dully, I replied, “That’s very good,” passed him the promised slugs, and escorted him to his front door.

Cutting through Charterhall University on my way home, I caught a glimpse of a familiar ruffled dress in the distance. For a moment I wavered, but then I reprimanded myself, “All knowledge is useful.” Changing directions, I followed Faith all the way to Six Towers, to the bridge where we’d attacked the Helkers’ carriage. Translucent and glowing a faint blue, Tocker sat forlornly on the railing where I’d thrown Ronia and myself into the black waters. Nearby lurked Cricket, thin and diffuse. I huddled in a doorway to observe.

Ignoring Cricket, Faith traipsed right up to Tocker. She propped her unpowered lightning rod against the railing and hopped up to sit next to him. After a moment, she said, “Hi” in a remarkably subdued voice.

Tocker didn’t even glance at her. “I’m waiting for my wife.”

Faith hesitated, then said gently, “I’m really sorry to say this, Mr. Helker, but your wife is no longer here.”

Tocker didn’t bat an eye. “I will wait. She will come.”

Faith lifted one hand as if to pat him on the arm, but let it drop. “I’m sorry, Mr. Helker, but this path you’re taking – ahead lie only madness and despair. It won’t end well for anyone.” Her voice sounded infinitely weary and wise, the way Grandfather’s did sometimes, and perhaps it was that compassion that finally got through to Tocker.

Morosely, he addressed the water. “Then I will wait until the wardens come.”

At the end of the bridge, Cricket drifted a little closer, watching alertly.

Faith sat with Tocker for a few more minutes, watching the moons’ reflections sway across the waves. “Do you have any messages you want to convey?” she asked finally.

He shook his head. “I just want to make sure someone takes care of the children.”

Faith nodded with complete sincerity. “It will be done,” she promised. “I’m sorry, Mr. Helker.”

And then she slowly picked up her lightning hook, charged it to crackling, and dismantled his soul. Tocker never uttered a word, never even took his eyes off the water. To the end he gazed into the canal, waiting for his wife to come.

At last it was done, and Faith lowered the rod and stood in silence with her head bowed, like one saying farewell at a funeral. Cricket drifted forward as if aimlessly and hesitated. When Faith didn’t acknowledge her, the little ghost floated even closer. “Seems like a waste, doesn’t it?” she chirped.

Without looking at her, Faith explained quietly, “His death was a waste, but his undeath was also a waste. There are some ghosts that are able to survive, to hold on…. Tocker didn’t have the personality.” Then she snapped out of her reverie and smiled impishly at Cricket. “But you, my darling – you have done a good job,” she said in a reasonable facsimile of her usual flippancy.

Cricket pouted. “I could have eaten him.”

“There will be others,” Faith assured her. “You’re doing well for yourself.” Stretching out a hand, she petted Cricket’s ghostly tummy. “You know, if you’re hungry, you can do extra things for me….”

Cricket cocked her head to a side, considering. “They do say Whispers can be useful when they’re not trying to kill you.”

Faith adopted a mock-wounded expression. “I’m offended! I’ll have you know that I’m useful even when I’m trying to kill you!”

Cricket just giggled and whirled around her.

Faith gave her directions to the railcar and offered, “Find me if you ever want something to do.”

“Will do!” Cricket cried and zipped off in search of a ghost she could consume.