Vincent kept her guard up the entire walk back, right hand never far from the revolver tucked under her arm, ready for anything.
Fortunately, she made it back to the restaurant without incident.
"Your Majesty. You're home."
Vivienne appeared at the bedroom doorway the moment Vincent reached it, having clearly waited up.
"Mm."
Vincent slipped into the Bernadette manner — cool and measured — and gave a neutral nod.
"I'll prepare hot water for you."
"Go ahead."
This was something Bernadette had addressed in her note: a normal bath and a change of underclothes was permissible. After sprinting through the streets in a cold sweat, it was more than called for.
"What are you staring at?"
Vincent noticed Vivienne still standing in place, gaze fixed and unmoving, something strange and almost liquid moving behind her eyes.
Vivienne startled — as if woken from a trance — and backed away at speed. "Right — right, I'll go."
"???"
Vincent stepped into the room, puzzled, and promptly peeled off the outer jacket and the binding underneath. She sank back onto the settee with a long exhale, finally letting the evening's tension uncoil from her shoulders.
She turned over the object in her hand — a small, badge-like thing, roughly the size of a thumbnail — which the man who'd been run down had thrown clear as he fell.
Vincent hadn't planned to touch it. But since they'd already come after her, there was no reason not to have a look.
With the aid of the Prying Eye, she identified it in moments: a tiny slip of paper had been concealed within, covered in writing so fine it resembled insect legs:
MI9 has been abusing its authority to traffic human beings — manufacturing mass disappearances in the East District and the Docklands. An unforgivable crime. The magnate Cavin is one of their proxies.
"MI9. Human trafficking. Cavin."
I recall… wasn't the human trafficking ring something the Loen Emperor was running himself? MI9 is the Crown's private bloodhound. Of course they'd be involved.
And I've gone to all this trouble for a 'secret' I already knew.
Vincent shook her head. She'd half-hoped for something genuinely scandalous.
And even if she hadn't known — what would she do with it? The Loen Emperor's ascension to the Crimson Monarch had the tacit approval of the deities. Reporting it to the Church would almost certainly go nowhere. A few convenient scapegoats would surface, take the fall, and the whole matter would be quietly buried.
Vincent scattered a handful of powder over the badge and the note and burned them both to ash, then performed a counter-divination.
Shortly after, Vivienne returned, a white silk bathrobe draped over her arm. "Your Majesty — the water is ready."
"Mm."
Vincent padded barefoot into the steam-filled room. At its centre was a bathing pool large enough for several people, the air thick with fragrance.
She turned and said, "You can go now. I don't need you to—" She stopped. "What are you doing?!"
Vincent snapped back around. Vivienne had already undressed, standing without a shred of self-consciousness.
It wasn't that Vincent was a paragon of propriety — it was more that she had no desire for Vivienne's completely inexplicable behaviour to give Bernadette the wrong idea about anything.
And besides: I'm a woman right now. My spirit is entirely willing and my flesh is completely unable.
"I — I only wanted to assist Your Majesty with—"
"That won't be necessary. I'd like some privacy."
"Ah. Yes. Of course."
There was an unmistakable note of disappointment in her voice as she gathered herself and retreated from the bathing room.
"Good Lord. What is happening."
Vincent scratched her head, thoroughly bewildered. "Vivienne of all people… this isn't like her at all. She wouldn't just change like this out of nowhere…"
Her eye caught the ring on her finger — fine as a strand of hair, practically invisible.
The penny dropped. "…I think I finally understand why Bernadette said the enhanced charisma was a negative effect."
If even Vivienne — an Extraordinary — was showing effects this obvious, the mind boggled at what might happen walking down a busy street.
Well. To be fair, it was also possible that Vivienne's existing admiration and reverence for Bernadette had been amplified and warped by the ring's effect into something altogether different.
Keep a wide distance from everyone from here on out.
With that resolution firmly made, Vincent undressed and stepped into the pool, settling against the side with a quiet splash. The water was white as milk.
"The water really is very—"
She shook her head. She was just about to close her eyes when her spirituality gave a sudden leap, and a crisp, clear chime rang through her awareness.
That sound. The sound of grey crystals landing on the Scales in the hidden room.
And the amount — it was far more than an entire night of dealings at her gathering had ever produced, over the past two days combined.
Vincent's first reaction was pure delight. Her second was pure confusion. But why?
Her spirituality fed back the answer: her broker potion had just digested nearly half its remaining volume in one go.
She sat bolt upright in the pool. I just took a bath. How is that connected to the Scales being fed and the potion digesting? What on earth is going on?
Meanwhile.
The Cathedral of St. Hilland, Church of the Steam and Machinery God, Backlund.
The Extraordinary teams of all three Churches had converged in the great hall, waiting for Executioner Bernard, Deacon of the Mechanical Heart.
They had not joined the raid on the Aurora Order. Direct orders from the upper echelons of their respective Churches had redirected them entirely — their mission was to track down and identify the anonymous "informant" who had desecrated three cathedrals and made a mockery of God's sacred houses.
Moments later, a man with a head of wild brown hair emerged from the depths of the cathedral. In his hands he carried an ornate silver mirror, ancient patterns traced across its surface. On either side of the mirror's face were two decorative eye-like insets — deep black gemstones that gazed back at the observer with an unsettling depth.
Executioner Bernard swept the room and let his gaze settle on the Storm Church's Deacon of Punishment. "Mr. Roy, since this investigation was initiated by your Church, I'll leave the privilege of questioning Arrodes to you."
The Deacon, who wore a modified captain's cap at a rakish angle, snatched the ancient mirror without ceremony and scoffed. "I've heard you Mechanical Heart people have this particular sealed item and won't let anyone near it. Today I intend to see what all the fuss is about."
Executioner Bernard took two careful, unobtrusive steps back. The other Mechanical Heart members followed at once.
The Deacon of the Night Watch Church, Sost, caught it immediately. He made a swift gesture and the rest of the gathered group stepped back as well.
"Hah. Cowards, all of you."
Roy gave a contemptuous snort, pressed his right palm to the face of the silver mirror three times, and asked in a flat tone, "Arrodes — my question is this: who was the informant who attacked the three great cathedrals tonight?"
The darkness around them thickened, took on a strange texture. The surface of the mirror rippled like disturbed water. Then an image began to form: a small, near-transparent figure, wrapping a piece of paper around a stone and hurling it with tremendous effort at a cathedral wall.
The moment the stone landed, the creature darted through the spirit realm, reappeared at a second cathedral, and repeated the action.
Roy's blue-tinted eyebrows pulled sharply together. "This is a spirit realm entity? Does anyone know what this creature is?"
Before anyone could answer, a line of Old Fusak script appeared on the surface of the mirror:
By the principle of equivalence, it is now my turn to ask a question.
If your answer is incorrect, or if you lie, punishment will follow.
The word punishment glowed red as blood — as if the letters themselves were still dripping.
The Deacon of Punishment looked at it and smiled. "You want to ask me something? Go right ahead."
The mirror's surface shimmered. A new line appeared:
Are you already aware that your wife has been unfaithful to you — that the child she bore is not yours — and have you nevertheless chosen to forgive both her and the man she lay with, resolving to raise that child as your own?
To be continued…
Advance 50 Chapters are up on my Patreon!
pat reon.com/AlphaSenatus