Xeno hadn’t spoken much since the task ended, and Gem found it hard to blame her. Crow had nearly leapt into the stage to fight the orc himself when she’d been left alone with it, and Gem had had half a mind to join him.

Even so, she’d won. And she’d done so by pulling out power no one had known she’d possessed. Even after seeing it herself, the way her magic had rocketed upwards was hard to believe.

A little scary, in fact.

Scary enough that it felt strange to see her sitting on their sofa, legs tucked in the way they always were.

“You won us the task.” Gem said, more for the sake of speaking than to say anything in particular. “Pit, forget the task. You were brilliant out there!”

“When I pinned the orc, you mean?” Xeno asked, quietly. There was something about the girl’s voice, or perhaps her face, that spoke of a deep and heavy grievance. The kind she wouldn’t tell Gem about.

Was she fearful that her magic would drive a rift between the two of them?

“I mean the entire task.” Gem replied, choosing the safe approach.

If she praised every part of Xeno’s performance, there was no risk of her accidentally under or over-fixating on her magic- whichever would be the blunder.

The fae shook her head.

“I was an idiot.”

“You were under pressure.” Gem corrected. “And you handled it pretty well. I saw the way you adjusted strategy while following it near the beginning, I don’t think I’d have thought of that much.”

That seemed to embarrass the girl, but a grin still crept its way onto her.

Even in her disheveled state, hair a mess, clothes torn, entire body covered in grime and skin marked by countless cuts and scrapes, there was a certain girlish energy to Xeno that made Gem want to hug her.

“It didn’t do much good, did it?”

“It doesn’t matter whether it did much good, it was very clever and there was every reason to assume that it would have. If you won’t take credit for smart plays that failed through simple chance, then you should at least be consistent and start bragging about how many times you got lucky when someone else started distracting the orc and drew it away.”

Xeno frowned at that, but it was good natured.

“I’ve met your father you know.” She said, “He twisted words around, too.”

Gem found herself grinning at that, then quickly hid her expression before it could sour as thoughts of Gilasev turned to his absence.

“But I still got a smile out of you, didn’t I?”

They shared a smile, and Xeno laid back. Her body seemed to relax slightly, though her face grew troubled and thoughtful.

“What does it feel like when you use magic?” The girl asked. Voice suddenly hollow, uncannily hesitant even with such a clear direction to its question.

Gem briefly considered lying, giving her the same cowshit she always did when asked such a question. The look in Xeno’s eyes killed any desire to do so.

“Like life.” She answered, truthfully. “More than that, even. It makes me more alive than life does. It’s as if everything is...more. Colours are more colourful, pleasure is more pleasurable, pain is more painful.”

She trailed off, struggling to put into words the sheer intensity of it. Thankfully Xeno saved her the trouble, seeming to understand regardless.

“Does it ever… frighten you? Make you worry that maybe you aren’t yourself?”

The question left Gem equal parts surprised and confused. It was so very different from any thought she’d ever had about the arcane that it took her several moments to fully process the implications.

Magic had never scared her, least of all her own. More than that, there wasn’t ever a time where Gem felt more like herself than when the supernatural was running through her veins and coiling in her lungs.

“Sometimes.” She lied.

It seemed the correct response, as Xeno nodded like she’d expected it.

“I’m not sure if I can trust my magic.” The girl murmured, voice so quiet that Gem strained to pick out her words. “Or, I suppose, I’m not sure if I can trust who I become when I’m using it.”

Not sure how to even begin answering, Gem decided, for once, to keep her mouth shut and her silver tongue tucked away behind her lips.

Apparently just as uncomfortable as Gem was, Xeno hurriedly spoke again.

“So, we’re not doing so badly anymore, are we?”

It was true, if only just. Third place was better than last.

“Do you suppose we’ve gotten unlucky the past few tasks, or just lucky this one?”

Xeno had probably meant it in jest, but Gem found it hard to take as such.

“Probability would dictate the latter.”

“Probability would dictate the team with the Gemini, an Eye of Analysis user and three more mystics above even the average of the Sieve would do far better than we have.”

Gem grunted at that, conceding the point.

“What do you think our chances are of winning?” She asked.

“Honestly? Not at all bad. With Amelia’s injuries, team Fate are going to need to exhaust their credits just to get her even close to fighting condition- and even then she’ll probably miss the next task. That leaves only team Triland and team Ra.”

It was more or less the same conclusion Gem herself had come to, though she suspected Xeno had raced to it almost the instant she was asked, rather than crawling over ten minutes of careful thought as she’d had to.

“Team Ra is the bigger threat.” Gem noted.

“They are, and frankly I don’t know if they’re one we can handle. Ra alone is such an overwhelmingly powerful enemy…”

Gem had been meaning to ask Xeno how she’d measure herself against the boy, assuming the same level of power she’d used to best the orc. After seeing how sensitive the girl was about that particular topic, she decided against it.

She could make her own guess though. And she didn’t like the result.

“What do you think about letting Crow have his way?” She asked instead. It earned a frown from Xeno.

“I thought it was clear that I’m entirely in support of it.”

“Well, you were. But that was before....”

Xeno’s eyes narrowed.

“Are you suggesting that I’ll suddenly decide against it now that I’ve already been allowed to do the same thing? Or that my performance will have changed how I view the matter?”

It was quite unlike Xeno to so brazenly ask whether she was being accused of hypocrisy, manipulation or self-centeredness. Gem supposed she could begrudge her that much, after the sort of day she’d had.

“Not at all.” She answered, half truthfully.

***

Karma’s teeth ached as she pulled her chin up to the bar, so tightly clamped down was her jaw by the physical exertion. Her wrists felt numb, as though they might suddenly let up without her even realising, and every fibre of muscle in her arms seemed to be begging for mercy.

She ignored the pleas, revelling in the satisfaction of the exercise.

It had been well over a week since Tamaias’ death, and the hectic effect it had had on Bermuda’s political climate had left Karma little time to push herself. Not the way she really wanted to.

Basking in her body’s burn was like slipping into a hot bath after a trek through one of Unix’s freezing nights. More than simply a welcome treat, it scratched an itch Karma could scarcely believe she’d lived with.

With a grunt, she pulled herself back up. Held her chin over the strip of iron, arms shaking, then lowered herself slowly.

Again, her tortured limbs screamed in protest. And once more Karma ignored them. They were part of her, not the other way round, and her body was hers to do with as she pleased. Now, if not before.

So invested in her routine was she, that the door’s opening barely even registered to her.

“Good evening lady Alabaster.” Spoke a familiar voice.

Karma was tempted to ignore it, to take the necessary couple of minutes and finish her joyous exercise. The notion quickly withered, and she lowered herself to the ground one last time before turning.

Pyrhic and Locke seemed worse for wear. The brown hair of Karma’s assistant had become clumped and greased by sweat, her smooth face pinched. Each of the lines, half of which had surely not been present when they last spoke, told her of just how much worry the past few hours had caused the woman.

Karma felt a sudden lump build in her throat, guilt and shame restoring all the pressure she’d spent the past half hour carefully purging with her exercise.

It was made a dozen times worse by the clear lack of bitterness or anger on Pyrhic’s face.

Locke seemed to have gotten the worst of things. His uniform, already disheveled, appeared to have gone through half a decade of wear and tear since she saw it last. Nylon hung loose, sagging from where the fibres had been stretched in places, and even revealing holes in others.

The man’s face, posture and eyes made the ruined apparel seem appropriate.

“Pyrhic, I trust you have much to report?”

She hated to treat her servant that way, hated to force the woman to go over a series of events that had so clearly troubled her. Yet there was no helping it.

“Yes, my Lady.”

As always, Pyrhic made her description fast and concise- touching on only that which was relevant. Karma listened keenly, only occasionally interrupting with a question. She found a frown creeping onto her face as the woman went over what she’d uncovered about the Guillotines.

“How certain are you that he was telling the truth?”

“I can’t be completely sure. However he didn’t seem to be lying, certainly, he had little motivation to. His fear of Olympus’ wrath seemed… considerable.”

That troubled Karma.

People did unpredictable things when threatened. Some would believe the one threatening them to be irrationally powerful, capable of smelling any lie and seeing through any trick. Others would find their spine and sense of self-grandiosity inflated by panic, having just as much foolish confidence in their own abilities as the cowards would in their enemy’s.

The problem came from the fact that it was extremely difficult to differentiate between one kind and another. Even without the handful who responded rationally.

Nonetheless, Pyrhic had threatened an Immortal. Centuries tended to dull the edge of passion and instill a level of clinical pragmatism in people. Betting that the man was speaking truthfully, having logically come to fear Olympus more than a gang of mercenaries, would be safe- even if not guaranteed.

“If I might make a suggestion, I believe furthering our investigation and focusing on the Guillotines themselves would be the best course for us.”

Karma nodded. It was, after all, their only lead.

“Have you learned of anywhere in particular to go to for such information?”

“The Guillotines have many enemies, and few friends. I can think of several places to search for information on them.” Pausing, she continued more hesitantly. “Though it would be best to bring some… incentive.”

“How much do you think is necessary?” Karma asked, understanding immediately what her assistant was suggesting.

“From what I saw of the various gangs’ wealth, I believe five thousand stars would be necessary to make any sort of compelling offers.”

Karma’s stipend was only thrice that, however she still found herself surprised at its cheapness.

“Are there no Immortals among the ones you’ll be getting information from?”

Pyrhic understood her silent question instantly.

“There are, however, those who find themselves involved in street gangs rarely do so while having any other options. Regardless of power.”

In Olympus, there were a thousand stories of disgraced Immortals. Noble families sacked and robbed of their power, men and women with great magical aptitude but trifling intelects who ruined their own opportunities.

There could be many reasons even an Immortal might find themselves ostracised from the powers of the world.

She supposed it made sense that they’d end up with the rats.

“Very well then. Though I shall not be giving you solid money, instead you can take several letters of credit to be paid out at the expense of Olympus itself.”

Carrying thousands of stars in any form would be inconvenient, to say the least. Even disregarding the logistic issues of transporting dozens of kilograms of gold, possessing enough wealth to purchase a frigate would make her an impossibly alluring target for thieves.

Karma didn’t doubt Locke’s ability to protect her from gangers, not with his new arcstock crystals, but it was better not to tempt fate on such matters.

“When shall I depart, lady Alabaster?”

She briefly considered telling Pyrhic to do so immediately, or the first thing next morning. However a single glance at Locke, and the barely contained hatred hidden behind his forcefully smoothed features, reminded her of the deal she’d made with her bodyguard.

“Tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest. I have need of Mr Locke’s assistance, and shan’t be sending you to interview criminal Immortals without as much protection as he can offer.”

Pyrhic nodded, not asking for any further explanation. Karma dismissed her with a wave, and was surprisingly relieved to see Locke follow wordlessly.

I’m scared to be confronted by a damned Wrathman because I know he has a point.

As the door shut, Karma turned back to the pull-up bar set into her wall.

She gripped it again, inhaling and preparing to resume her interrupted exercise, yet not expecting to find any of her previous peace.