“Should’ve known as much,” Bramin said, pushing himself up from the dust and standing on wobbly feet. “No normal human could’ve taken a punch like that, and there’s not a man alive who could lay me out.” He reached up and swiped a hairy hand across his bloody lip. “Why didn’t you just say you were a Vigil, then? Would’ve saved us a whole mess of trouble, eh?”

“Stand there and tell me with a straight face that you would’ve talked to me if I had,” I replied.

Bramin considered it for a beat, then grinned and spit a fat, bloody wad of phlegm into the dirt. “That’s a fair enough point, I suppose. I wouldn’t have told you any more than I do anyone else outside of the Society.”

“But that’s not the only reason you were hiding your face, is it?” the woman asked, eyeing me from above the retaining wall of the fighting pit. “I have a keen memory for faces and I don’t recognize yours. Which can mean only one thing… You’re him, aren’t you? That new Vigil. The Inkarnate.”

Goddamned but news had a way of traveling fast around these parts. Considering the line of work these people were in, maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Could be,” I said.

The female spellcaster frowned and planted her hands on shapely hips. “Well, that’s a wrinkle I wasn’t expecting.” She sighed, clearly coming to some sort of decision. “Come on, Bramin, let’s get our new friend out of that damned pit. I’ll have Lysander put on the kaffkae.”

The man who’d been trying to cave my skull in a heartbeat before, helped me clamber out of the sandy ring, then pulled himself up with crazy gorilla strength. I’d pummeled him into a bloody pulp not but two minutes ago, and already he was looking better. The cuts littering his creased and worn face were knitting themselves closed. The guy might not have been a Vigil, but obviously, he had some powerful natural Steelborn abilities, including increased physical regeneration.

“No hard feelings,” he said, before waving me along. “Business is just business, you understand how it is.”

Together we followed the willowy female spellcaster down a short corridor and to a private office.

In the center of the room was a large wooden desk covered with maps, sheafs of paper littered with precisely scrawled notes, and used quills. An ornate bookcase framed in the back wall; decorating the shelves were a host of leather-bound volumes, many of which were obviously arcane tomes. She also had a sprawling stone-topped workstation which was covered with everything someone would need for alchemy: An oversized mortar and pestle, brass scales for weighing ingredients, clean glass vials, and oblong test tubes in metal racks, all filled with a variety of drab liquids I couldn’t put a name to.

The woman flopped into a padded leather chair behind the desk, primly crossed her legs, then adjusted her flowing robes. She waved me toward the only other chair in the room—a wobbly wooden stool that looked like it should’ve been pitched into a fire years ago. The stool was at odds with the finery of the room at large, but I saw through the ruse. It was purposely built to be uncomfortable, to leave those visiting the office constantly shifting in their seat. It also reinforced the power dynamics at play—this was her space.

Here, she was the boss.

Bramin posted up by the door, leaning nonchalantly against the frame. That was a ruse too. Having the hulking thug at your back, lingering just on the edge of vision, was another trick to unnerve anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves in this seat.

“The name’s Milonia Natalis and my partner there, is Bramin Otho. Now that all the necessary pleasantries are out of the way, I want to know why in the fuck you’re in my establishment.”

Introducing yourself wasn’t exactly idly chitchat and clearly this lady had a warped sense of what “necessary pleasantries” were, but she didn’t beat around the bush which I could appreciate.

“You were in here for more than two hours,” she continued without giving me a chance to answer, “and the only thing you consistently inquired about was the death of Akser Erdemir, one of our former members who had the misfortune of being ripped limb from limb by a Chaos Aberration. Bramin there”—she jerked her chin toward her partner—“is half brain dead from all his brawling and even he figured out what you’re looking into. Thing is, Vigil, I know for a fact that you’re not assigned to this bounty. You’re here of your own accord.” She leaned forward. “Why?”

“How do you know I wasn’t assigned the bounty?” I asked, letting Arcana bleed into my words.

She grimaced and rolled her eyes. “You’re new around here, so I’m not going to have Bramin break your fingers, but don’t try to ply your Honeyed Words on me, Vigil.”

That caught me off guard.

“Fair enough,” I said slowly, releasing my grip on the Arcana ebbing out from my core, “but for the record, I’m not scared of your buddy. I beat his ass once already and I wasn’t even using my full powerset.”

“Fair enough,” she replied in turn. “Let me rephrase, if you try to ply me with Honeyed Words again, I will personally break your fingers. You’re probably stronger than me, but do you really want to find out? And, be assured, I will know if you try to get inside my head again. In case you haven’t put the pieces together, I’m not some low-brow, self-taught, hedge-mage. I’m a first-generation sorcerer and a bloody powerful one. It would take a Vigil significantly more powerful and insightful than yourself to pull that dirty little trick on someone of my pedigree and caliber. Do we have ourselves an understanding?”

I mulled it over for just a second before nodding. Chances were good that she was bluffing about breaking my fingers, but I didn’t want to risk it. Especially since, if things turned south, I wouldn’t get the answers I needed.

There was a small commotion at the door as a mousy serving girl with short-cropped hair entered with a tarnished silver serving tray. Balanced on top was a black clay pot and wafting from the spout was the aroma of heaven. It was a scent I was sure I’d never smell again.

Strong black coffee.

The serving girl deposited the tray on Milonia’s desk, then slowly poured the steaming black liquid into a pair of small, oriental porcelain cups. Once the task was done, she silently bowed her way from the room, never turning her back on us, while simultaneously keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Milonia pushed one of the cups toward me, before pulling the other over to her.

“Sugar?” she asked, taking the lid off a small ceramic dish and spooning in a pile of brown, granular sugar.

“I’ll pass.” I pushed the cup of coffee away even though all I wanted to do was snatch the entire pot off the tray and upend it into my mouth. I didn’t, though, because a good rule of thumb is to never accept drinks from people who might have a vested interest in killing you.

“Oh, just drink the bloody kaffkae,” she said, exasperated. “You’re staring at the cup like you’ve just been reunited with a long, lost love. So drink. It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re thinking. Bramin and I are thieves, scoundrels, and occasionally killers, but we’re not barbarians. Kaffkae is a peace offering. Besides, it would be suicide to kill one of you lot, wouldn’t it? Having one Vigil crawl around in my business is bad enough—I certainly don’t want a Fist descending on me, picking through my affairs.”

Even without Honeyed Words, I knew she was shooting straight with me. I could read it in her face, in the tilt of her shoulders, and the angle of her body. It wasn’t poisoned and she wanted me gone, not dead. I was interrupting her business and that was costing her money.

“Fine.” I picked up the cup and took a sip. Hot, strong, bitter, and un-fucking-believably delicious. “You still didn’t answer my question,” I said, setting the cup down. “How do you know I wasn’t assigned to the bounty?”

“We’re information brokers, care to take a guess?” she replied, cocking an eyebrow. “We have eyes and ears everywhere, love, including more than a few inside the Citadel itself. I’ll tell you what you want to know, you tell me why you want to know it?”

The fact that they had informants inside the Citadel itself shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it did. Not only did the Citadel have top-notch security, but they also had a small army of wanna be Sherlock Holmes’ sulking around, who could spot a liar at a thousand yards. Not to mention, the people of this city venerated the Vigils themselves—surely spilling their secrets would be seen as a crime or, at the very least, some sort of betrayal of faith.

It just proved that people were gonna people no matter where they were.

“Okay,” I said, after weighing my options. “I get bounties direct from the man upstairs. He gave me the assignment and I’ve been told by the higher ups at the Citadel to leave it be. That doesn’t sit right with me. I know the team assigned to the mission and they’re good at what they do, but there’s got to be a reason Raguel tasked me with the job. So I decided to poke around and look for some answers. Simple as that.”

“Hmmm, very interesting.” She smiled and rubbed at her bottom lip. “So we have ourselves a rule breaker amongst the ranks of the Vigil Bound. That I can appreciate. And that you can bypass both the Keeper and the Exarch is icing on the cake. What exactly it is you’re hoping to find out about Akser Erdemir?”

“Well, for starters, what can you tell me about the thing that killed him?”

“Come dear, that is already common knowledge. I expected better. But I suppose, given your newness to our world, your ignorance can be forgiven this once. As I mentioned before, the creature that attacked our dear Akser was a Chaos Aberration. They are powerful beasts and quite cunning, too, though I will admit I have never heard of an Aberration hunting a city in the way this one has. And, if I haven’t heard of something happening, then it hasn’t happened.”

“If you don’t find Chaos Aberrations in cities, where is their normal stomping ground?” I asked.

“There is no typical for their ilk,” she said. “They are Aberrations as their name implies. I assume you have a working understanding of how Raw Essence bleeds through the Etheric Realm, and pools in areas rich in Affinity which, in turn, produces the plethora of Mortka that plague our land? Chaos Essence works very differently. Outside the Etheric Realm is another realm, a darker realm. Oblivion.

“It is a place of madness and endless shadow. Just as the Fae call the Etheric Realm home, there are powerful, wicked, twisted things that dwell in Oblivion. Under normal circumstances, the beasts of Oblivion cannot move freely between their realm and our own. Occasionally, however, extraordinary circumstances will open a tenuous rift that allows the creatures to pass through.”

“What kind of extraordinary circumstances?” I asked, leaning forward on my stool, forearms resting against my thighs.

“It is unpredictable,” she said with a shrug. “An astrological alignment of the heavenly bodies. Fresh battlefields were many have recently perished. The use of massive amounts of Arcana. The direct intervention of a deity of the Celestial Realm. That is the true reason Raguel does not interfere directly, you know. He is powerful beyond understanding, but his direct involvement in our world increases the likelihood of opening rifts and spawning Aberrations. Should a celestial open a big enough rift, it could even allow a Chaos Titan to slip through, which would be the doom of us all.”

Huh. Not only did these thieves know more than me, they were also surprisingly helpful.

“Is that why Raguel uses Vigils?” I asked.

“Indeed it is,” she replied with a nod. “And not only him, but other Celestials as well. They are powerful but they draw much of their strength from our realm. An invasion of Chaos Titans would hurt them just as surely as it would hurt us. Investing mortals, such as yourself, with a small portion of their power is a clever way for them to circumvent many of the restrictions regarding direct interference. It is also the reason why Raguel uses intermediaries such as Spirit Guides to communicate and pass along information. Loopholes. The Celestials are all master Solicitors at the end of the day.”

That explained so much. Still, as usefully as this all was, it wasn’t what I’d come here for.

“And you’re sure that’s what you saw?” I asked.

“Without a doubt. There is no telling what form a Chaos Aberration will take. Whenever they come through a rift, they bind with whatever material Affinity is at hand, which allows them to remain in our realm. As a result, each is unique but there is no hiding the miasma of Chaos Essence they release. I felt its corrupted presence firsthand. Me and four others also happened to witness the murder. I saw the beast with my own eyes, not but fifty feet away.

“The creature came for Asker at dusk, just on the street that runs in front of our humble establishment. A scaly, hunched creature with terrible fangs and leathery wings that looked like the night sky. It rushed him from an open alleyway and its bloody work was done in a matter of seconds. It took to wing and fled with a terrible screech before I could even try to cast a spell in retaliation. I can tell you, it was a precision strike, not a random killing. I’ve been in this business a long time and I know a hit when I see it.”

I grunted.

None of this made a lick of goddamned sense based on what I knew about Mortka. Why would a monster attack so brazenly and out in the open like that, especially with a host of witnesses who could easily identify it? That would only raise its profile and increase its chances of getting caught and exterminated. It also raised a lot of new questions. But it did tell me one thing, this wasn’t random. I wasn’t sure why Asker had been targeted, but clearly this thing had been carrying out some sort of agenda.

“Anyway it was a glamor?” I prodded, trying to think of other possible solutions.

“None. I’m a Sorcerer, not a fool. The creature was a Chaos Aberration as plainly as the nose on your face.”

“Can you think of any reason why someone might want Asker dead?”

She snorted and took another long sip of her coffee. “More than I could count. Asker Erdemir was a complicated and often infuriating man. There are likely two dozen or more nobles that would fancy his head on a pike just for the wives he’s slept with. He was also an extremely connected informant.” She paused, drumming her fingers on the tabletop.

“Recently, he was digging into something potentially lucrative, though he wouldn’t say what. But that’s normal in our line of work. Once a piece of sensitive information is widely known, it immediately loses its value. I can tell you that I had men trailing him—always good to keep eyes on the competition. I don’t know what he’d uncovered, but I can tell you he was spending a lot of time over in the Baker’s District.”

“Which is where they found the second victim,” I said. “The kid.”

“Just so,” she replied with a slight nod. “Whether there is the connection between the two, I cannot say for certain, but in my line of work I’ve found that there are rarely such coincidences.”

I drained the last dregs of my coffee and stood, the stool squeaking as it slid back behind me. “Thanks for the intel and the coffee, its much appreciated it.”

“I wouldn’t thank me so quickly if I were in your shoes,” she said, eyeing me from behind steepled fingers. “There’s one other thing you should know. You’re not the first Vigil to come poking around about Akser. Dogan the Shieldbreaker learned far less than you and it was still enough to get him killed. I’d tread carefully if I were in your shoes…”