She turned toward Vale, placed both hands on her hips, and frowned.
“I think we should leave sooner rather than later. I am not sure how we are going to drag him through the front door. Give me a moment to check the other end of the morgue. I have an idea, if this hospital has the same layout as...”
She cut herself off with a sigh, then walked away, leaving Sisyphus with both the briefcase and the unconscious man. It did not take long for her to cross the wide chamber and reach an ornate pair of double doors. She tested them, found them unlocked, and pushed into a hallway that faintly smelled of manure. The odor strengthened several steps beyond the threshold, carrying with it the warmer scent of animals and hay that contrasted sharply with the formaldehyde behind her.
“As I thought!” She grinned to herself and returned to Sisyphus, snatching up the briefcase. “Do you happen to know how to drive a carriage?” Her expression remained pleased with the discovery as she crossed the morgue toward him.
“Sadly, no. Horses are evil creatures by nature, and I think even they would be afraid of my pathway.” Sisyphus spoke in jest, then gestured toward the drawers containing the three recent corpses. “Besides, payday should be upon us.” The bandage wrapped around his injured hand had already begun darkening in places, though his attention remained fixed upon the metal compartments rather than the reopened wound.
“I will make this quick.” He moved a few steps closer and motioned for Evelyn to follow. The cabinet nearest him still held the first man he had killed, while the others had been arranged in neighboring compartments. His pace carried a slight unevenness from the injured thigh, difficult to hide now that the urgency of combat had passed.
“That is... evil creatures?” Evelyn sounded briefly confused before looking toward him again. “What are you doing?” She approached, still holding the briefcase.
“We are looking for anything odd or unusual. Something special. Glowing, perhaps.” Sisyphus pulled open the drawer containing the dead Assassin. Cold air escaped around the body while his gaze traveled over the man's clothing and exposed skin. Nothing unusual appeared until his attention settled near the head.
“Like this.” His gaze moved over the body before settling on the corpse’s ear. Black veins ran through it for no discernible reason. With a quick motion, Sisyphus summoned a blade of shadow and severed the ear with a single chop. He lifted it in his left hand.
Oh my God.
The thought rang through Evelyn’s mind at exactly the same moment that the other Evelyn reacted with similar horror. It took effort to silence not only herself but the voice sharing her mind.
“Is there a point to this?” She glanced at him, then back toward the body. Her eyes scanned the corpse. She saw little else that seemed unusual, though she prodded at the clothing in an attempt to find something.
“This.” Sisyphus shook the severed ear once for emphasis. His tone was that of a teacher demonstrating evidence in a forensic science class. “It can replace the main ingredients of the Assassin potion. It is worth about three hundred pounds.” The grotesque object apparently bothered him far less than the reopened injuries beneath his clothing.
“If you can find a buyer,” he muttered, loudly enough for Evelyn to hear. He pocketed the ear, slid the drawer shut, and opened the next. The rails gave a metallic scrape that traveled through the otherwise quiet basement, loud enough to remind them both that they were still inside an occupied hospital.
“Oh, I see.” Her answer was plain. Internally, however, she was beginning to understand just how strange and grotesque this world truly was. Perhaps she ought to become more serious about that fact.
“I assume this is part of the spoils checklist. I will keep the value in mind.” Her thoughts returned to the masquerade gathering and to Elephant’s earlier offer. “There may be a buyer at the Notary’s meetings.”
“I recommend letting Nox sell them. He is the broker I trust. He knows many people... and has a great many friends.” Sisyphus nodded. Something in the way he spoke of Nox carried the confidence of repeated dealings rather than casual acquaintance. His attention had already shifted toward the newly exposed corpse.
The next drawer opened, revealing the corpse of the man who had stolen an item from Sisyphus during the fight. Nothing immediately stood out to Sisyphus. The body looked disappointingly ordinary beside the Assassin's altered ear, with no obvious discoloration or deformation to indicate where its characteristic might emerge.
“There is a Law of Beyonder Conservation. The ingredients cannot be created or destroyed. Consume a potion... become a potion. Such is the cycle.” Sisyphus examined the corpse while he spoke, making the explanation uncomfortably literal. His good hand moved the dead man's coat aside before checking the exposed skin beneath it. Death had not destroyed what the potion had placed inside him, only changed the form in which it remained.
Evelyn, however, caught a small point of reflected light within the corpse’s mouth. One of his rear teeth shone gold, unnaturally so. She found herself moving before the original Evelyn could even react. An odd expression crossed her face as she pried the dead man’s jaw open.
“Tell me, is it improper for a lady to drive a carriage?”
The question was so abrupt that it bordered on absurd. Her fingernails pressed into the dead man’s gums as she tested whether the tooth could be loosened from its socket.
“One dressed like you? Yes.” The compliment remained unspoken but easily perceptible in his thoughts. “I can move the body with me through the shadows. We can take an ordinary carriage a street away.” Sisyphus watched Evelyn work but offered no assistance because she had not asked for any.
“These characteristics can also be turned into items that possess some of the potion’s powers, though they come with disadvantages. Nox knows an Artisan capable of doing so.” His attention lingered briefly on her hands before moving back across the room. The information seemed more important to him than the fact that she was presently extracting a dead man's tooth with her fingers.
Evelyn changed her grip and stared coolly at the corpse. After worrying the tooth loose as much as she could, she yanked it free with one sharp wrench.
“That is convenient. Moving things through the shadows makes this much easier.” She turned the golden tooth over in her fingers. “Are your wounds going to cause a problem?”
“I will manage. I will need to set him down once we reach a carriage. I cannot carry him all the way back.” Sisyphus shut the drawer. There was a slight defensiveness in his voice, born from the desire to perform well as a bodyguard. Another part of him wondered whether she was asking as his employer or as his newly made friend.
His good hand found the handle of the final drawer.
“The second secret I promised you is the Law of Beyonder Convergence.” He yanked the drawer open, revealing the man he had stabbed through the throat at the beginning of the fight. “Beyonders and items are drawn toward others of the same pathway. There is a desire to return to a single, collective whole.” His gaze moved immediately toward the corpse's face as the cabinet reached the end of its rails.
The characteristic on this corpse was obvious. The iris of his right eye held a mirror-like sheen that caught the light. Sisyphus’s hand reflexively touched his own layered coat, confirming that the eye he already carried in a glass tube remained in place. The small movement was unnecessary for practical purposes, yet the faint relief accompanying it was obvious to Evelyn.
Connections began forming in his mind.
“That certainly explains some things. I will keep it in mind.” Evelyn let out an amused huff and raised the golden tooth. “What is the value of this?”
“Apologies if I seem clinical right now. I am not accustomed to handling the dead.” Before he could answer, she paused and looked at him. The admission was brief, offered mainly to ease any discomfort he might have felt at her matter-of-fact behavior. Her fingers still held the tooth while she waited.
“Sequence 9 main ingredients usually sell for between three hundred and four hundred pounds. It is safer to assume the lower end.” Sisyphus considered asking whether Evelyn wanted the eye until it could be appraised and its value divided between them. He decided to wait until after removing it. Three hundred pounds remained enough money that treating any characteristic casually would have been foolish.
With the shadow blade and one precise motion, he plucked the eye free. He fished an empty glass vial from one of the many pockets containing his ritual materials, placed the eye inside, and offered it to Evelyn. The unnatural sheen remained visible through the glass whenever the vial caught the morgue's light.
“Until its value can be split.” He held the container toward her without attempting to decide ownership himself. Their earlier agreement made the division simple enough once Nox determined a proper price.
She accepted the vial, then looked down at herself and remembered, with immediate irritation, that a woman dressed as she was had no substantial pockets. The vial would not fit comfortably alongside the money she had already tucked away. A deeply displeased expression crossed her face, almost comical in its intensity.
She turned away from Sisyphus.
The vial disappeared.
“Are you ready to leave? I will Lurk near you.” Sisyphus closed the drawer and made no comment on where she had put it. Without the magical shadow obscuring his face, his words carried a different impression than usual. He glanced toward Vale.
“But only through shadows large enough to fit two men. I do not think it would be possible to fit both of us inside yours.” His gaze lowered briefly toward the darkness at Evelyn's feet, then shifted toward the rear of the morgue. The sun's position would matter more than the distance once they stepped outside.
“It should be easy. The sun is no longer above the hospital. It should be facing the front now, which means we can use the shadow cast by the building itself.”
“Tell me if anything happens or if you need assistance.” She turned toward the double doors at the back. The briefcase remained securely in her hand as she prepared to lead them through the quieter end of the hospital.
Sisyphus crouched over Vale and slowly pressed down against his chest. The oversized robe wrapped around the unconscious man was itself a mystical item. It possessed the same Lurk in Shadows ability granted by Sisyphus’s current Sequence. In combat, that allowed him to alternate between his own Lurk and the robe’s, effectively reducing how long he had to wait between uses.
Now, he intended to use it to bring another person into the shadows with him. The darkness beneath Vale deepened while Sisyphus adjusted his grip, his injured hand remaining held stiffly enough that Evelyn could see he favored it. The process looked slower than when he disappeared alone.
“It is going to be cold... and try to ignore the bad dream this will give you.” Sisyphus whispered the warning as he leaned closer to the unconscious Vale. He showed considerably more concern for the difficulty of the ability than for the comfort of the man receiving it. Vale remained limp beneath the robe.
Both forms splattered into black blood and sank into the shadows of the morgue.
A moment later, Evelyn noticed a broad dullness of color following her. She smiled faintly, having caught the whisper and more of his thoughts than she suspected she ought to be receiving.
With that, she stepped down the hallway and through a door leading into what appeared to be a stable. The passage was an uncomfortable fit, at least through the door she chose, but it also had the least light. For a moment she wondered what sort of stable had a door opening directly into one of its stalls.
“Ah, apologies... Just coming through.” She whispered to the large animal staring at her with enormous brown eyes. Her free hand stroked the horse’s face gently, then traced down its side in an almost ritualistic motion. “Horses are not evil,” she muttered with amusement.
She slipped through the smaller attached building and emerged into a courtyard. Just as she had predicted, the back of the establishment lay beneath the building’s heavy shadow. Her boots moved at a steady, unhurried pace over the stone toward one of the more public exits so that she would not appear to be leaving through a controlled-access area.
Within the weightless realm of shadows, moving Vale was surprisingly easy. The difficulty came from Sisyphus himself. He had to Lurk twice for every meaningful stretch of movement, and the fight had already drained him badly. Each transition required enough concentration that the broad patch of dull color following Evelyn occasionally slowed before catching up.
He focused on the simple fact that he needed only a few more transitions before they reached a carriage. The cold of the shadow realm had stopped bothering him long ago, but maintaining two bodies inside it while injured demanded far more than ordinary movement. His bandaged hand throbbed whenever his concentration faltered.
Evelyn quickened her pace slightly, though not enough to appear panicked. She wore a small smile, giving everyone around her the impression that she had received good news and was hurrying to share it.
When she reached the street, she raised one arm. A carriage arrived quickly. She opened the door herself and hesitated for only a moment.
As soon as the carriage stopped, a pool of black blood rose from one of the interior benches. It swelled into the shapes of Sisyphus and Vale before both materialized completely. The liquid darkness gathered into cloth, skin, and the rough folds of the robe before withdrawing into the ordinary shadows of the compartment.
The moment the Lurk ended, Sisyphus dropped onto the bench, lightheaded. He silently hoped the ride would give him enough time to recover before he had to move Vale again. His shoulders sagged once he no longer needed to maintain the concealment, and the strain he had kept buried during the escape became much easier for Evelyn to read.
Evelyn glanced at him, then at Vale. She leaned toward the small window and knocked three times. The driver immediately urged the carriage forward. It bounced as it traveled down the road, carrying them rapidly away from the hospital.
“You will have time before we reach the manor. I will have the servants drag him out when we arrive.”
Evelyn retrieved the uncomfortable vial she had hidden against her chest, set the briefcase on her lap, then placed both the vial and the golden tooth inside. The leather-bound case snapped shut before she clicked both latches into place.
“You can rest. I will handle the interrogation myself.”
“Many thanks.” Sisyphus massaged his temple with his right hand. His breathing had steadied, though the exhaustion beneath it remained obvious in the looseness of his posture. The carriage rocked beneath them while Vale remained motionless in the robe beside him.
“Will there be additional tasks like that before the end of the contract?” Several moments passed in silence before he spoke again. His voice contained a mixture of concern and greed. The haul had been extremely profitable even after being divided evenly.
He had noticed Evelyn emptying pockets during the fight, but compared with the Beyonder characteristics, ordinary money had seemed almost insignificant. Almost on cue, Evelyn reached into her pocket and produced the money she had taken. The envelopes were thick with gold pounds. She counted through them carefully.
It took some time, though the arithmetic itself came easily. When she finished dividing the money, she handed Sisyphus approximately five hundred and fifty-six pounds.
“Probably not. I am sure there will be more work in the future, but... not this week.”
“This was a... fruitful haul.” Combined with his savings, it should be enough for his next potion. Sisyphus accepted the money with considerably more care than his casual wording suggested. Satisfaction briefly cut through the exhaustion surrounding him.
He considered the possibility of purchasing a mystical item instead, or perhaps paying to have one made directly for him. He still needed to finish digesting his current potion first. For the moment, however, he was relieved. He would not be at full strength again for nearly a week.
Advancing remained necessary, but the process would be complicated. The money solved only one part of the problem. Ingredients, digestion, and finding a safe opportunity to advance remained separate matters.
“They were paid to kidnap a Beyonder. That is much more complicated than simply killing one.” Sisyphus shifted farther into the carriage seat. The statement carried the weary practicality of someone familiar with both kinds of work. Capturing a target meant controlling how much damage could be inflicted while still surviving whatever resistance followed.
Evelyn exhaled deeply and leaned back against the carriage bench, her fingers curling around the briefcase handle. “With how badly the last kidnapping went for them, I am not surprised the amount they were paid was generous.”
She glanced out the carriage window, if only to confirm that they were truly moving away from the scene. The gesture had become a small ritual that helped settle her back into reality whenever the voice within her mind became restless.
Sisyphus said nothing. He took the opportunity to rest and decided not to question their good fortune, even if it had nearly killed him. The regular sound of the wheels filled the carriage while the streets outside shifted farther from the hospital.
“I have no intention of prying... but I can relate to being treated as an experiment.” After some time, he spoke again. Sisyphus looked out of the carriage rather than at her. There was a story behind the admission. It was not one he was prepared to share.
“I see. Is this the Law of Convergence you were speaking of at work?” Evelyn made the observation lightly, not yet understanding the full weight of what Sisyphus had explained. Her voice adopted the casual, mildly amused tone of someone commenting on an unlikely coincidence. “What are the chances that we would have such similar stories?”
The carriage rumbled beneath them. Wooden wheels struck uneven stone in a steady rhythm, carrying the two of them and the still-unconscious Edwin Vale back toward the manor. Light passing through the window moved across the briefcase on Evelyn's lap before disappearing again whenever they crossed beneath the shade of taller buildings.
“Coincidences are often not coincidences...” Sisyphus smiled faintly and leaned farther into his seat. His eyes remained half-closed, deliberately turned away from Evelyn. His thoughts returned to the eye harvested from one of their attackers.
Then to the other eye he already carried.
The similarity bothered him.
The dead man’s abilities had aligned strangely well with those Vale had attributed to Evelyn. Now three separate things had intersected during a single fight: Evelyn, the dead Beyonder, and the characteristic Sisyphus himself had carried into the morgue. The Law of Convergence made dismissing the intersection as chance considerably more difficult.
Could all three belong to the same pathway?
Perhaps Evelyn belonged to the pathway associated with Psychiatrists.
The thought passed near enough to the surface for Evelyn to catch it.
“They probably still happen,” she continued, giving no indication that she had heard anything. “I would imagine the gods themselves delight in an odd occurrence every once in a while. Besides, would that not make for a rather boring tale?”
She had no idea whether Sisyphus read for pleasure. The attempt at humor was worth making regardless.
His expression changed. Sisyphus disliked hearing reality described as a tale. There was something dangerously romantic about viewing their world that way. The faint ease that had entered his face during the ride disappeared almost immediately.
“If a god could win in a boring manner, they would do so without hesitation.” He answered without looking away from the window. Whatever amusement he found in Evelyn's earlier comments did not extend to the intentions of gods.
A dreadful thought struck Evelyn. Her expression faltered.
“That...” She hesitated. “I am not going to be smote for assuming things about the gods and their proclivities, am I?”
The question sounded absurd as soon as it left her mouth. Unfortunately, this was a world in which absurd questions occasionally demanded serious answers.
“Gods are indifferent to us unless we pray to Them and invoke Their honorific names, interfere with Their plans...” Sisyphus smiled slightly beneath his hood. The image of a god descending from the heavens in outrage over the opinion of an insignificant mortal was amusing enough. His expression changed again before he finished.
“Or if They own our pathway.” His voice lost some of its amusement. He did not elaborate, and the shift was sharp enough that Evelyn needed no Telepathist ability to recognize the boundary.
His thoughts strayed somewhere they should not. For the briefest instant, something foul brushed against the edge of memory. Ramblings. Words belonging to the being connected to his own pathway. Whatever had surfaced disappeared almost immediately beneath a deliberate effort to think of something else.
Sisyphus recoiled internally and forced his thoughts elsewhere. Thinking too deeply about such things invited corruption. He knew better.
Evelyn’s gaze passed over him once more before the carriage finally slowed.