Timothy was still shaking by the time Gora got him settled at her table inside the pub and stepped away to have a quick word with the barkeep.

In Grailmane, it was common courtesy to let the proprietor know about any corpses you leave behind near their establishments. It both gave them time to clear them away before the smell drove away business and gave them a leg up on emptying its pockets before selling it off to the first necromancer that passed by.

“How you holding up, Cuz?” Gora asked, making Timothy jerk in surprise as she dropped a mug of beer in front of him.

“I… I’m okay I think,” he stammered. “I just… I just can’t believe Dalton’s… he’s…” Timothy leaned in closer, speaking quietly. “I can’t believe you just killed him!”

Gora sat down and sipped her own beer. Not her first one for the day, either, which might have been why she’d acted a little rashly. She’d been waiting for Timothy for a while. Hence the trip to the bathroom where she’d heard him scream.

“Sorry, Cuz, I thought he was just picking on you. Was he… a friend of yours?” she asked carefully. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d accidentally hurt or killed someone she shouldn’t have.

“What? No! I hated his guts!”

Internally, Gora breathed a sigh of relief. Arrow dodged. “Right. What’s the problem, then?”

“The problem is I can’t believe you just…” he began, before stopping and lowering his voice. “You just killed him and now you’re sitting here and drinking beer like nothing happened!” he hissed, just barely loud enough to be heard.

Gora looked at him, puzzled. Her cousin was acting rather strange.

“Well, what am I supposed to be doing?” she asked, frowning.

“I don’t know! Covering our tracks? Cleaning up the evidence? Figuring out what we’re going to say? Getting rid of the body?” he whispered frantically.

“Oh!” Gora exclaimed. “I gotcha. Don’t worry, I already took care of it,” she replied, jerking a thumb over to the barkeep.

“You… what?” Timothy asked.

“I took care of it,” Gora repeated. “It’s taken care of.”

“Gora, you literally have bits of his brain stuck to your boots!” he exclaimed. “You haven’t taken care of anything!”

This made several of the other patrons look over to see what the fuss was about and Timothy quickly sunk down in his seat in embarrassment. It only made him look even more suspicious.

Then Gora lifted her leg to inspect her still gore-encrusted boot and suddenly everyone had other business to be concerned with.

Bits of skull were still embedded in the sole.

“Ah, shit, you’re right. This is gonna be an absolute bitch to clean,” Gora grumbled.

“PUT THAT AWAY WHAT IF SOMEONE SEES YOU?” Timohty hissed as loudly as he dared, his eyes wide and his knuckles white as he gripped the table.

Gora lowered her leg back down and and looked at him in concern. “You sure you’re okay, Cuz? You’ve been acting kinda wierd,” she asked.

“Me?” he whispered. “I seem to be the only sane person between us! Any moment now the Watch are going to be barging through that door, looking for Dalten’s murderer and you’re just sitting here, drinking beer and not even trying to hide the fact that your boots are covered in Dalten’s brain juice… what’s so funny?”

Gora was laughing and shaking her head. “Sometimes, I forget you were raised in Silkhaven, Cuz.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Timothy demanded, whispering loudly. “Someone is going to stumble over Dalten’s body at any moment…”

“Timothy,” Gora’s voice rumbled, “there’s no Watch in Grailmane.”

“There’s… what?” Timothy said, his voice returning to normal in surprise. “Then who keeps the peace?”

“The peace?” Gora replied, casually sipping her drink. “Well, that’s different. That’s the Magelords. And the Academy. Depends on the district you’re in. But they aren’t gonna give two shits about some kid showing up dead in an alley. That’s not disturbing the peace, that’s just private business.”

Gora could see in Timothy’s eyes that he was struggling to wrap his head around this concept of barely constrained anarchy that was Grailmane’s social structure. Despite living in the city for a couple of years, he’d never really walked the streets too much, she realized. He’d been living in a bubble on Academy grounds, too focused on his studies to get out and see how the world worked.

Probably for the best. He’d always been a bookish nerd. Even back when Gora’d babysat him for his mother, before his family had moved to Silkhaven, he’d been more interested in sitting in one place playing with his blocks or looking at his picture books than running around screaming like most other toddlers. It had made babysitting a breeze, but probably hadn’t been doing his social life any favours.

“But he was a student of the Academy,” Timothy tried to protest. “They’re not going to just ignore that you murdered him! They can’t!”

“No, they won’t ignore it, I suppose,” Gora agreed, sighing, “but those assholes tried to ambush us in a delver supply wagon outside the city a couple of days ago. Fuck ‘em, I say. If anything, we’re even now.”

“They did what?”

Then, to Timothy’s surprise, Gora raised her mug. “To Joseph! May you rest in peace, you ornery old bugger!”

To Timothy’s surprise, several other patrons similarly raised their mugs, acknowledging the toast.

“What was that about?” he asked, once the noise had settled down and Gora was wiping her mouth from downing about half of her rather large tankard.

“Joseph was the driver of the supply convey. Some mage bastard slit his throat while he was kept paralyzed with magic.”

Timothy gasped, his hands pressed to his mouth in horror. “Oh, Gora, I’m so sorry,” he muttered awkwardly, not really sure what to say.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, Cuz. Wasn’t your fault. And the fuckers who did it got themselves offed by a Mitlan Inquisitor shortly afterwards anyway, so justice was served I suppose.”

“What?”

At Timothy’s urging, Gora found herself telling an abridged version of what had transpired; how they’d been travelling back from Triskellion and the Academy had tried to entrap and kill them using a magically enhanced carriage.

“Oh man, they rolled out one of the Trapper-Wagons for you?” Timothy said. “They are priceless artifacts.”

“Well one of them was a priceless artifact,” Gora retorted coolly, sipping her beer. “It’s a scorched wreckage now.”

“Ouch. The Academy isn’t going to be happy about that,” Timothy replied, wincing.

Gora shrugged. “I don’t really give a flying fuck about their feelings. They murdered a friend and tried to kill me. If they lose a shiny because they botched their murder attempt that’s their loss.”

“I know, I know,” Timothy said placatingly, “I just mean, the Dean was probably livid. He loves his magical toys.”

“Hope he gets a heart attack,” Gora muttered under her breath before slamming down the rest of her beer.

After that, there was a lull in the conversation as Gora ordered them a new round of drinks, despite Timothy barely having touched his.

“So this is just it? You kill Dalten and just walk away? There isn’t going to be any consequences?” he asked, eventually.

Gora snorted. “Of course there are consequences, Squirt. Everything in life has consequences. The Academy is probably gonna be raising a stink about this with the Guild, but you don’t have to worry about that. Duncan might yell at me a bit, but in the end it’s just going to be a bit of politics.

“No, what we need to worry about are his friends and family. They’re probably gonna be looking for revenge.”

Timothy, swallowed nervously, suddenly looking even paler than he had been before. “Oh,” he said quietly. “That might be a problem.”

Gora raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“He was involved with one of the Cults. And so were those two friends of his that you sent running off.”

“Hmm,” Gora hummed, “knew I should have killed them too. That could be a problem. Some of the Cults can be real psychos, especially the desperate ones. Which one?”

“Huh?”

“Which one was he involved with?”

“Oh, something called ‘the Cult of the Abyss’, or something,” Timothy replied.

“Never heard of ‘em. From the name I’m guessing they’re involved with demons somehow?” Gora asked.

Timothy nodded. “Yeah. I heard him brag that he could dominate demons without using contracts.”

Gora snorted out a laugh. “Not bloody likely. That would give him the power to undermine the Diabolism Institute’s entire power base and steal Triorbus Square’s independence right out from under them and… what? Neither of them mind? I find that a bit hard to believe. If he could really do that, he’d have been strapped to chair in the basement of the Institute, answering some very pointed questions at the ends of some very pointed objects.”

For some reason, Timothy looked a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, when you put it like that, it does seem a little unrealistic, doesn’t it?”

“Nevertheless,” Gora went on, “I suggest you keep your head down a bit. I’m the one who did the deed, so they’ll probably come after me, but with the Cults, who knows. They’re all crazy. I doubt they’d try anything on Academy grounds, though, so try not to go too far for the next while, okay?”

Timothy sighed. “Shouldn’t be too hard. Not like I’ve got a roaring social life, you know? I’m basically going to be stuck in my dorm until the exams are done anyway.” Then he added: “what about you, though? Will you be okay?”

Gora just laughed. “Oh, I can take care of myself, don’t you worry, Cuz.”

After a delicious dinner and a couple more drinks, Timothy finally started to relax a little. There really was nothing like alcohol to help you get over seeing someone get brutally killed in front of you.

Truth be told, Gora hadn’t even meant to kill the little idiot. Sure, he’d been bullying her cousin, but to flat-out kill him for that was a little harsh, even for her sensibilities. She’d just planned to scare the little toad, maybe break his other arm to drive the lesson home before chasing him off.

But then he’d gone and tried to use magic on her. Big mistake. When someone drew magic on you, that left you with only two options: trust that you could survive whatever it was they were trying to do to you or strike first and hard enough that they were incapable of continuing to cast.

Gora might have overreacted a teensy bit, but then, she’d been used to hardier and more capable fighters than some snot-nosed kid. The little love tap she’d given ‘Dalten’ or whatever his name had been wouldn’t have done more than piss most of them off.

“As nice as it was to catch up again, and as thankful I am that you bailed me out there, Cousin, I get the feeling that inviting me out here wasn’t just a social call,” Timothy eventually said, after he and Gora had spent some time chatting and exchanging family news.

Gora gave a loud belch and stretched. “You got me, Cuz,” she said, grinning. “I actually got in touch because I got a favour to ask of you.”

Timothy paused. “A favour? From me? What could you possibly need me for, Gora?”

“Well, I find myself in need of a demon for a rather sensitive task, and I need a solid contract to keep it in line.”

“And you come to me?” Timothy asked, laughing. “You do realize I’m still a student, right?”

Gora shrugged. “Well, how many other decent Contract Mages do I know that I can trust?”

“What about your mother?” Timothy tried, but Gora shook her head.

“You know my mom’s not actually a contract mage, right? She always had other people do the actual paperwork. Besides, she’s the one that suggested you.”

“Really? Mrs. Blackwood said you should talk to me? Doesn’t she have, like, contacts back at the Institute?” Timothy asked. “Surely they’d be better candidates for this than me.”

“Sure,” Gora replied, “but she doesn’t trust any of them as far as she could throw them. Nah, you’re family, Cuz. And that means something.”

Yeah, that meant something, alright. Nepotism. Timothy still wasn’t sure he was up for more contracting right now, especially given how badly he’d messed up his last one with Ixxy. But he supposed hearing her out couldn’t hurt.

“What’s the job?” he finally asked, after thinking it over for a bit. “I’m not getting involved in anything dangerous.”

“Nah, Cuz, nothing like that,” Gora rumbled, a grin on her face. “I just got a specialized job that only a demon could do and I need a handler. Someone who knows how to keep the damn thing in line and and prevent it taking advantage of some unusual circumstances.”

“Alright, what kind of job did you have in mind?” Timothy asked, already trying to think what kind of demon would be a good fit for the job. A Blade Devil was a decent pick if you needed some reasonably intelligent muscle, but Gora could likely take care of anything like that herself. Otherwise, demons came in all shapes and sizes.

“Just a bit of soul work,” Gora replied cryptically.

“Demons aren’t allowed to mess with people’s souls without their consent, though,” Timothy explained patiently.

“Yeah, I know,” Gora replied.

There was a moment of puzzled silence. Then Timothy’s eyes widened. “Wait, you want a demon to mess with your soul? Are you crazy?”

Gora shook her head, laughing. “Of course not, I’m not dumb.”

“Thank the gods…” Timothy muttered, taking a sip of his beer.

“It’s for a friend of mine.”

To Timothy’s credit, he he didn’t spit out his beer in surprise. He did almost choke on it as it went down the wrong hole, but after a bit of coughing and spluttering he finally managed to get his voice back under control.

“And your friend is okay with letting a demon mess around with his soul?” Timothy coughed, aghast. “Do they know how dangerous that is?”

The irony of that sentiment wasn’t exactly lost on him, he being the one that had been beating himself up for falling for a demon. It wasn’t quite letting her muck with his soul, but it wasn’t far from it.

“Yes,” Gora replied calmly. “And it’s her soul. But look, it’s for medical purposes, alright? She has a soul-related medical issue, so she needs a demon to take a look at it. Simple as that.”

“Are you sure it’s soul related? Has she been to see a doctor?”

Gora nodded. “Yes, the doc back at Triskellion took a look at her. He’s the one that suggested getting a demon to take a look.”

Timothy eyed Gora sceptically. “Then perhaps a second opinion is in order? Because if your doctor’s advice is going to a demon for medical help, I’d shapeshifter-check him right there.”

“Dammit, Cuz, will you help me or not?” Gora asked, slamming her fist down on the table hard enough to make their mugs jump. “All I need is a demon I can trust not to fuck my friend up.”

Now that was easier said than done. The phrase ‘trustworthy demon’ was an oxymoron. Intellectually, Timothy knew that. And yet Ixxy had popped into his head the moment Gora had said she needed a demon.

Ixxy had been occupying his thoughts ever since the day before, so how could he not think of her? But just because he thought he might have fallen in love with her just a teensy, tiny little bit didn’t mean he actually trusted her. She was still a demon, and he’d sat through too many repeated warnings and cautionary tales about how dangerous they were when you let your guard down over his several years of study to just ignore that fact.

Yet at the same time, the entire point of his diabolism course was that they could be worked with, despite the danger. It was just — giving one free reign with your soul sounded exceedingly dangerous.

Even if that demon was Ixxy.

Especially if that demon was Ixxy.

Gora was family, and revealing that he knew a Pleasure Devil was going to be quite embarrassing. But the real reason he didn’t want Ixxy for this job was that it gave her the opportunity to betray him in a way that would really hurt him.

It would shatter the illusion that there was something special between them and force him to face the truth that he secretly knew deep down inside; that she was just a demon and he was just a convenient schmuck.

But at the same time, he really wanted to see her again.

“Alright, I’ll meet your friend,” Timothy finally conceded. “And then we’ll see. I’m not making any promises, though.”

“That’s fine, Cuz. You’ll love Rita, you’ll see.”