Ed gently patted the heads of Lilywen and Gwen. He spoke to them in a soft soothing tone, his voice like the gentle crooning of a dove — laced with psychic power. Their soft blue eyes moist and brownish-orange curls unwashed. Tear streaks were visible on their cheeks and irritation on their skin — from constantly rubbing their eyes. Ed was weary, consoling the twins was not easy. He barely had time to console himself. McCarthy had said that she was still in critical condition… But dammit if she dies. Ed nearly clenched his fists out of reflex, but noticing the curly hair in his fingers he held back. Ebenezer still wants me to kill Deloris… depending on how it goes with my wife… We’ll see McCarthy… We’ll see.

“Papa… where’s Mama…” Lilywen’s voice was anxious and it cut through the haze of Ed’s jumbled thoughts. The two twins were in Ed’s bed with him, they wouldn’t let him out of their sight. They panicked, as if he could disappear at any moment. They couldn’t even sleep alone. The house which seemed so warm and safe was now dark and foreboding. Since that day, that day when they had fallen asleep in the middle of the day, since that day, the day that Oz had screamed, such a bloodcurdling sound… they hadn’t seen their mother. Oz had changed too. He didn’t look at them anymore, he stared off into the distance. Mumbling something to himself over and over. Ed had tried to talk to the boy, but he was closed off. His eyes desperate. Haunted. But Ed’s hands were full with just the twins, he had to leave Oz on the back burner.

He amped up the psychic energy in his voice as he gently shushed Lilywen, stroking her hair softly. But he was cautious. Ed couldn’t use too much psychosis… it could permanently damage the twins — they were too young — or even create a slave complex between him and them. But his power was all that was keeping them from going hysterical. He could feel it, in their minds, the instability, the wildness. He himself wasn’t in a good emotional state, if the twins were too emotional it might break him. He had to be careful. Edna was everything to them, her warmth, her food — it was what had made this place home.

Lilywen’s voice came again, resisting his volleys of psychic energy, “Papa… where’s Mama…”

“Little lamb… Mama’s fine… she’s just away on a trip.”

Lilywen wasn’t so easily persuaded, “Why didn’t she take us?! Mama promised she’d never go anywhere without us! She promised!” Lilywen’s tiny hand clutched Gwen’s underneath the blanket.

Gwen’s lower lip jutted out, though she didn’t speak like her sister she didn’t need to for Ed to understand. The quivering lip and barely contained sobs was more than enough. Gwen whispered, “I want Mom…”

Seeing her sister’s bravery, Lilywen increased her protests, “Papa Mama promised! She promised!”

As if the cries of a child could undo the hand of time. Ed was weary and cynical… he mustered a weak response, “Hush Lily, Papa’s still here…” Ed fumbled in his mind for an excuse, for a reason, for anything to placate them. An idea! “You remember how Oz is sick?”

The twins nodded gravely.

“Now Mama left to —”

“Is Mama sick?!” Lilywen gasped.

“Er… no… I’m saying —”

“Mama’s sick…” Gwen’s whisper made Ed break out in cold sweat.

“Mama’s sick!”

“Lilywen… listen…”

“NO!”

The shrill scream of a child on the verge of a tantrum grated Ed’s ears. Then, a soft nasally whisper came to his ears, a nasally voice that was no longer quite as annoying to listen to as it used to be.

Hey Ed!

It was Ebenezer.

The crying of the twins was making it difficult to hear him. Ed gathered the twins into his arms. They flailed and struggled crying out “Mom!” Ed buried his own sorrow deep within himself and comforted his girls, rocking them back and forth. Gently shushing them. He amped up the psychosis just a little over safe levels, for a little bit it wouldn’t do any damage. He focused his mind, blocking out their sobbing, he reached for their minds. Touching them gently.

Hey Ed!

He slipped. Gritted his teeth and tried again.

Hey Ed!

“All pricking hell…” Ed mumbled under his breath and stroked the twins’ consciousnesses tenderly.

ED DAMMIT!

Ed almost lashed out with his mind at the damned apothecary. Ebenezer’s last whisper was a shrill sound, a very shrill sound. Maybe that nasally voice was just as annoying as it had always been.

You’re going to make me wait eh?! Not if I break down the door!

Ed contained his anger and shot back a whisper. I’m busy dammit! The twins are crying, just wait!

Oh… I’ll wait then. Would it have killed you to say that from the get go…

Ed tried to stifle the urge to murder Ebenezer and returned to the task at hand.

Almost an hour had passed before the twins were finally sound asleep, all cried out. Ed carefully squeezed his way out from between them. Using a layer of psychic energy to make his movements soundless and invisible he exited the bed and made his way down the stairs and stood in front of the door. There was a note pegged there. He took it and opened it. It was from McCarthy, it read:

Ed. Edna will get better. You have my word. I promised to protect your family and that includes your children. I’ve left one of my avatars in your house, she’ll always be listening. Her name is Lucy, she’s my second strongest. Know that I’m always watching, keeping you safe.

Joseph McCarthy

Ed crumpled the note and let his eyes dart around the house. Trying to catch the wisps of McCarthy’s so-called “protector”. More like a guarantor of his loyalty, now if Ed ever went against the damn man his children could be murdered in an instant. He floated the note to the fire and placed his hands on the doorknob and peeked through the eyehole. His whole body was trembling, his boney hands rattling like shivering teeth. He saw Ebenezer, impatiently stomping his feet — it was comical. He allowed himself a slight grin.

“Old coot! You wanna come in?” His voice was louder and shakier than he had intended. The exhaustion was taking a toll on him, this day was full of trouble. Too many troubles in one day.

“Dammit open the door!” The apothecary was rather pushy.

Ed tried to inject some playfulness in his voice, “Like I’d trust you in my house yah swindler. You can say what you want from out there.” The shaking in his body lessened.

Ebenezer grated back, “This is how you treat your friends eh? You trust me to dig around inside your skull but not your living room?”

Ed felt his body relax. Friend… that’s a new word to me…

Ed pulled himself together and masked his inner turmoil, letting the façade of a grumpy old man settle over him.

“Fine, fine, fine!” With mock sullenness and feigned grumbling Ed opened the door, muttering under his breath at the impropriety of a late-night visit.

Ebenezer stepped in pompously, and after scrutinizing the room intently he spotted a chair, not just any chair, the only chair on the table with no rickety legs. He dashed. His musty and patchy hooded-robe billowing out as he moved. Like a wild man he laughed as he cantered to the chair. Ebenezer plopped himself down loudly and leaned back regally — as if in his own home. He flashed Ed a toothy grin and twirled his long scraggly beard in his hand.

Ed was flabbergasted at his behaviour, his troubles no longer superficially at the back of his mind. Confusion at Ebenezer’s behaviour had taken their place. Ed just stared at Ebenezer.

The eccentric apothecary pulled back his hood, revealing his wild white hair. Ebenezer gestured expansively, “Come sit my friend, make yourself at home!”

Ed mumbled obscenities under his breath and sat down on the rickety chair opposite the apothecary, fuming on the inside. It is my damn home ain’t it?! Bloody prick… a damn fine bloody prick.

Ed looked up grumpily. The wily medicine man tossed him a surly wink and produced three items from his robe with a flourish. A clear glass bottle from his robe. A small package. And a small green glass bottle. Each of them he held in place briefly — so Ed could get a good look — before placing them on the table with a resounding smack.

Ed was curious now, he leaned forward and extended a hand to the bottle. Ebenezer smacked his hand away like an angry grandmother protecting her sacred cherry cobbler.

“What gives you ornery old man dammit!” Ed almost shouted but reduced it to a muffled whisper after remembering the only recently sleeping twins. He snapped his fingers and an ethereal blue bubble engulfed them. He was now free to shout as he willed, “DAMMIT OLD MAN!”

Ebenezer wiped the spittle off his beard nonchalantly and extended one crooked finger, “One, you can pick one of these.”

Ed opened his mouth to speak, but the one finger turned into an open hand.

“Wait, wait, wait. Let me tell you what these items are…” Ebenezer leaned in salaciously, like a carnie at a fair, he gestured to the clear corked glass bottle. “The first item, drum roll please!” He deadpanned when Ed didn’t comply and settled for an exasperated sigh before continuing. “… Is Emaciated Vodka! Down your sorrows in a luxurious 184 proof beverage, and made from The Divine Heavenly Plums to boot! One swig of this and all your troubles will be forgotten, you might even find your cultivation has advanced — and perhaps you will even have a gap in your memory and your body might have weird marks on it, but what have you? Such is life! This is the first item!”

Ebenezer took a quick glance, noticing that Ed was treating this matter very seriously he smiled to himself. This vodka was exceedingly rare and considered to be one of the finest vintages available! Of course, the apothecary now had Ed’s full attention. Ebenezer continued, “Now this here is a package of Nine Stem Tobacco the Adherable Orange edition!”

“Wait, that’s a limited-edition leaf!”

Satisfied with Ed’s outburst, Ebenezer continued smugly, “All the carcinogens have been cleaned out and of course only the highest grade Nine Stem Tobacco leaves have been used — saturated with psychic energy! Not only do you not need to fear the scalpel — for the excising of that lung cancer — you will feel refreshed and rejuvenated. Also, with the luscious orange scent there’s no need to even freshen up with mints or anything! No one will know you have an addiction and are a slave to a vice! Rather, they will be enraptured with your smell!”

Ebenezer took a deep breath, his moustache flailed about as he gulped in air. Ed waited for the apothecary to catch his breath, this was a good night now. It was a very good night.

Ebenezer’s rambling resumed, “Our last item — and by no means our least item (all these items are damn expensive after all!) is a special formula. Made from Magenta Grade Herbs!” Ebenezer waited.

Ed’s eyes went wide with shock at the appropriate time. But who wouldn’t? Herbs of the second highest grade, they would be worth hundreds of thousands of stones! Ed concentrated, he didn’t want to miss a bit of this.

“Sleeping pills designed for children! Most medicinal pills have too high potency for children! That’s what you’ve been told right?”

Ed nodded solemnly.

“Well who told you this? I’ll tell you who! Stupid people! The problem isn’t with the potency of the medicine it’s the potency of the impurities in the medicine! Any formula made from exceedingly high-grade herbs is safe for children! Ohohoho! But not for your wallet…” Ebenezer emphasized the statement by shaking a finger. “These special edition Sleepy Time Pills dissolve in water, milk — you name it! With a light minty aftertaste and superb cleansing powers your children don’t even need to brush their teeth before bed. Our slow acting formula ensures that the child will not suspect a thing! And the timed release ensures that they won’t wake up for eight hours — guaranteed!” Then quickly under his breath, “If used consecutively for more than 100 days consult a physician, especially if signs of addiction occur. This pill is not intended to be a substitute for a good sleeping schedule and should only be regarded as a temporary measure.”

Ed blinked. He thought he had caught every word… he was pretty sure.

Ebenezer exhaled and sat back, looking even more haughty and pompous than when he had first come in. He swept his hand over the three items, “Choose wisely! This is a one time offer!”

Ed leaned forward and closed his eyes. Carefully touching each item with his mind to ensure their authenticity. He was startled at Ebenezer’s generosity, it was unexpected, so unexpected one might consider fraud. But Ebenezer was no swindler when it came to his wares… though in everything else his personality inspired… doubt. The old apothecary expected Ed to verify the products, he was not offended by his prodding in any way. But instead, with every inspection — and Ed’s growing surprise — his chest swelled more and more with pride.

“I’m shocked.” Ed began. Ebenezer’s face shimmered with arrogance. Ed continued, slowly, “Truly shocked… but this isn’t a difficult decision for me.”

Ebenezer crooked a wrinkly eyebrow with scattered hairs. Ed leaned forward and took the pill bottle unceremoniously. Ebenezer’s face was inscrutable. Ed rubbed his bald head and turned the bottle over in his palm, checking the ingredients again. His weathered face seemed to sag with age and weariness.

“I…” Ed rubbed his head a bit more. “I… I’m a father Eb. I’m a father. Wine is nice —”

“It’s vodka.”

Ed waved his hand, “Fine, alcohol! Whatever! As I was saying. Wine is nice, beautiful women are nice, tobacco is nice… vices are fun. But a sobriety is better, a wife is better, and good health is better, because virtue and good health are needed for family. And nothing beats family.” Ebenezer’s face was still blank. Ed looked over to the apothecary and smiled, “If my kids can sleep at night, then I can sleep at night. That’s all that matters to me.”

Ebenezer’s grainy skin went tight, his lips curled in a small smile, “Well done old man… you’ve moved my heart! Have them all.” With a flourish Ebenezer produced two glasses. With a pop the cork came out and a silky clear liquid was poured into the glasses. Before Ed could object an ornately carved wooden pipe was tossed at him. The Psyker scrambled and managed to catch it.

Ed sucked in a sharp breath, “Heavenly Mahogany?! Dammit, how rich are you!”

“Heh! Put away that crappy pipe you’ve got, this pipe purifies the smoke and enhances the flavour!” He grinned and tore open the paper package, “A good pipe needs good tobacco!” Ebenezer pulled out a pipe of his own, one that matched his wooden skin tone and grainy appearance. Pinching some tobacco in his fingers he stuffed the pipe with some black leaf. Then he gently patted it down, fished in his pocket for a moment, and pulled out a match.

Ed was aghast, “You smoke?!” Then in a much quieter whisper, as if hesitant, “Isn’t the tobacco plant… like… a cousin?!”

Ebenezer harrumphed with a sound only a pompous old fool can make, “You like steak?”

Ed nodded solemnly.

“Aren’t cows mammals?” Ebenezer retorted as he cautiously lit a fire in his pipe and began to suck on the stem contentedly. Orange tinted smoke billowed out as a soft smile danced across his face.

Ed surveyed all these items, the value of just one was incalculable, let alone all three. He timidly spoke, as if afraid to spoil the moment , “I don’t understand…”

Ebenezer raised a hand, “Friendship isn’t something you understand old man, it’s something you do.”

“Yer older than me dammit!”

“That’s why you need to respect me!” Ebenezer grabbed the cup in front of him and drained it. He folded his arms in derision, “Your senior commands you to drink!”

Ed looked at the glass, then looked at the man. Yeah… a friend… what’s a friend dammit, in this world of cultivation. I guess he’s a friend… hell, he’s my only friend in the whole world. Frig, don’t think about that too much. Ed downed the cup before his thoughts made him depressed. He coughed painfully. “GAH!” the old black man shouted and rubbed his throat, “That’s the good stuff.”

“Heh!” Ebenezer poured him another glass, “Every good thing should be done twice!”

A cough and a sputter later Ebenezer called out again, “Third times the charm!”

Soon the two old fogies had filled their little bubble of energy with smoke, song and a few dances — if that’s what you could call a senior having a laughter induced seizure. They exchanged stories. Chatted about loves lost and loves gained. Edna came up many times. Ed’s eyes had become bloodshot. So had Ebenezer’s. They were cultivators so both had lived long lives. Both had much to share. But they were still human, so they had suffered much, many lifetimes worth. Unbeknownst to the two burgeoning comrades, upstairs — while doctor Ebenezer was doing his house call — a small boy was shivering in his room.

Oz’s body was drenched with sweat, he was feverish. He sat upright on the bed with his quilt wrapped around his body. He kept seeing two faces over and over again. One was a woman with soft black skin and hazel eyes, her hair curly and bouncy, Edna. The other was a woman with fiery red hair and green eyes, her skin white and creamy, Katherine. Over and over again both of them were destroyed before his eyes by the yellow-eyed man with a wolfish grin. He saw the hands with the black nails. He heard the sickening crack. He heard himself scream. Those fingers had clawed through the images of the people he loved over and over again. Sometimes it was the twins, but most of the time it was Katherine and Edna.

Power.

He needed power.

He had woken up almost as soon as the battle between McCarthy and Lee had started, McCarthy’s command to sleep had barely affected him. Eyes wide he saw them fight. McCarthy’s kicks. Lee’s screams. He had seen it all. McCarthy had minced the source of his nightmares into a red mist with just a word. That was power. His little mind was filled with regret and pain.

“If only I was a cultibator…”

The phrase was repeated over and over again in the darkness. His hair greasy and black. His eyes brown and blood shot.

“If only I was a cultibator…”

He hadn’t slept since the attack. He excused himself, telling his family he was sick. He definitely looked the part… maybe he was sick. Those smiling faces tormented him. The women he loved. That he could never bring back. He knew, something inside him knew that Edna — that Mom — was dead. That she was gone forever. Papa said she was away on a trip, but Oz knew she was never coming home. He looked to the side of the bed. His bottle of liquid was gone, Ed had hidden it after he had coughed blood from the vial. Apparently, Ebenezer had messed up the formula. Oz didn’t care. That bottle was the key to being a cultivator, it was the key to power! He needed it… he needed it badly. His heart went to his sisters, Gwen and Lilywen. He couldn’t bear it if they died, if something happened to them. He balled his little fists and got up from the bed, grim determination had cleared his red eyes.

In the pantry… it’s probably in the pantry.

He snuck down the stairs. Careful to avoid the creaking step and to let go of the rail when he reached the spot where it wasn’t attached. He looked at the kitchen. A light orange fruity scent hung in the air and a whiff of plum was mixed in with it. Ed and Ebenezer were fast asleep, their faces splayed out on the table. They had had a good night.

Oz wrinkled his nose in disgust, the nose could not be fooled by these cheap parlour tricks. His lower lip quivered with a righteous indignation! These fiends! Did they think he was a child?! That his eyes and nose could not discern the difference between a fruit sundae and conglomeration of debauchery?! He would have words — er… — glares! He would have many a glare for Papa dearest when he woke up. Ox turned up his nose with a huff, then as his holy fury subsided he sighed. He had always hated tobacco. He didn’t know why. But now was not the time to dawdle. He gathered his courage and crept by the doorway and made his way to the basement. He opened the pantry door and after rummaging around he found the bottle. It was still almost full. He tucked it under his shirt and snuck back into his room and closed the door. He rubbed the bottle softly with his thumb, as if expecting a genie to burst out. His eyes shone with greed, desire and passion. Power. He needed power. This bottle might as well be a magic genie that would grant his wishes, for he had one wish. Not revenge… his mind could not handle such a complex thought process yet. He wanted to be strong. Just strength was all he wanted. He gripped the bottle with his only hand and set his teeth to the cork.

He opened the bottle.

A rich earthy scent wafted out. Oz’s nose wrinkled in confusion. The usual concoctions had a different smell to them, a putrid and foul smell. This bottle smelled nice, in sharp contrast to the immense pain it caused. It didn’t smell like this the last time he used it. Maybe… something had happened to the bottle? Oz looked down at his hand, it felt stronger. He felt stronger… and different. Ever since the day he had woken up, after drinking the old farmer’s blood, he had felt weird. Oz shuddered involuntarily. That was a very painful experience.

What if it happens again?

His little hands trembled at the memory. The blood. The retching. The hurt. But the yellow eyes. The wispy blonde hair. The black nails. The wolfish grin. Now, the resolve. Ebenezer had said that though the bottle was incredibly painful, it was also incredibly potent. It should have cleansed Oz’s body, strengthened its structure on a microscopic level. At this point, Oz’s body was probably tough enough to intake the medicine directly. At least that’s what he told his five-year old self. Oz steeled himself, then drank.

He chugged it.

The whole thing.

It tasted like dirt.

He felt dizzy.

This probably a mistake…

A pretty big mistake…

Papa… need to go to Papa…

His thoughts were a jumbled mess. The world was spinning as he pressed himself on the door. Sluggishly and after fumbling he managed to turn the knob and open the door. He took a step and blinked.

All of a sudden, he was in front of his bedroom… this medicine was powerful stuff. When did he walk up the basement stairs? When did he walk by Ebenezer and Ed? When the frig did he walk up the stairs to his bedroom? Confusion like a heavy mist clouded his brain.

Ah? How’d I get upstairs… Need to find Papa… Need help. He was feverish, beads of sweat had drenched his clothes, his sense of time and space was dilated and warped. Somehow, he made it to the top of the stairs. It was strange, though his mind was muddled… it felt more clear… like he was remembering things long forgotten.

“Pa…pa…” His groggy voice called out.

But the only answer he got was the snoring of two old men.

He took a step.

Eh?! That’s strange… why is the floor jumping at me?

“Ed! Help me out!”

His voice was deeper, it felt like it wasn’t his voice… Who’s Ed? But the floor reached him before the answer.

With a resounding smack! Oz was plastered on the floor and crashed down the stairs landing in a heap on the bottom. His body had definitely hit that squeaky step and the rail was now more loose than ever.

“Huh? What was that?!” Ed bumbled awake, his mind operating in a thick haze of intoxication. His bleary eyes focused on shape. The shape had a white shirt. Black pants. It was missing an arm. His eyes went wide.

“OZ!”

“EH?! WHAT?!” Ebenezer jumped awake his eyes sharp as if ready to strike.

“Dammit not you, my boy! Frig!” Ed tried to walk forward, but stumbled off his chair, still drunk from the potent brew.

Ebenezer noticed Ed’s struggle and darted over to Oz’s still form. Ed staggered to his feet and made his way over to his son, his hands flailing as he walked, in an attempt to stay upright.

“I drank too much…” The Psyker mumbled to himself.

Ebenezer bent down and turned the boy over. He opened his mouth and the old man’s crooked nose sniffed a couple times. He pursed his lips thoughtfully and stroked his beard. He shoved a finger in Oz’s throat and scooped out some saliva mixed with a greenish-black liquid and rubbed it between his fingers. He hummed and hawed as Ed finally managed to stumble to them.

Ed’s bloodshot eyes stared at the opaque goop. “Dammit… my boy! What is it Eb?! Is my boy okay?!”

Ebenezer sniffed the liquid. Then popped the goop in his mouth — fingers and all.

Ed shouted.

Ebenezer swallowed.

“What kind of —” Ed began, but was cut off by a resounding “Shush!” from Ebenezer.

The apothecary frowned, “Strange… the mixture is different — significantly — this time around and —”

“What of my son?” Ed grabbed Ebenezer’s robe and pulled him close, both men almost falling to the ground because of Ed’s drunkenness.

Ebenezer flicked the Psyker’s hands off with ease, “The boy is fine.”

“How can you tell?”

“I tasted.”

“… Never speak of this moment and never do this again.”

Ebenezer nodded his head and flashed a wry toothy grin, “I must examine the boy! Come come!” He paused and looked at Ed’s uncoordinated state, “I suppose I need to help… heh!” Ebenezer’s eyes glowed green, and his body creaked and groaned like an old tree bending in the breeze. His woodish skin turned completely wooden and his nose drooped long and low like a sagging branch. His wiry white hair turned to a cascade of weepy willow branches and his hunched back straightened out.

Ed rubbed his eyes. Then his head. Then his eyes. Then his head. He opened his mouth to speak but decided to wait until his was sober — a surprisingly sober decision in and of itself.

As the transformation winded down a voice like the rustling of the leaves swooned out, “Ego lignum.”

Ebenezer grinned, his skin splitting like bark as rows of wooden teeth were revealed, stained a dark brown. His green eyes burning with life and vitality. “Shall we?”

“Ummm… I —”

“HEHEHE! Who said you have a damn choice? I’ll tell you who!” Ebenezer reached and swept Oz and Ed in his arms as if they were as light as a feather, “NOOOOOOBOOOOODY!” He then dashed out the door, faster than Ed thought possible.

Within a few minutes they had arrived at the apothecary shop and Ebenezer had tossed Ed and Oz onto the floor in the back room and stomped off to rummage around for his Bloodreader.

Ed sat up. His drunkenness almost cured because of Ebenezer’s abnormal behaviour, “What’s gotten into him?” He mumbled and tugged his leather jacket closer to his boney frame.

“It’s my gel!” Ebenezer’s voice was loud, but it was back to normal. “I should have examined that bottle of liquid, why didn’t I think of that?”

Ed rubbed his temples in agony, “Soooo loud…”

“You know, I’ve been trying to improve my formula — the one for Oz.” The apothecary reappeared in the room, his metal barrel of a machine in tow, his eyes excited and almost jittery with glee. “I think I found the missing ingredient!”

“Sooo loud…”

“Hehehe! This formula… perhaps… perhaps this will solve my problem. Maybe… dammit… just maybe —” Ebenezer’s delightful cackling and reminisces stopped. The Bloodreader rolled forward and bumped into the table where Oz lay. Ebenezer didn’t care, his body was taunt, and his still green eyes burned with an uncanny intensity. Ed’s face almost exploded with fear — the drunkenness eradicated by his primal instincts. He flooded his mind with psychosis.

There was someone else in the shop.

No, there were two people!

One stepped out of the shadows.

He had dark brown — almost black — hair and blue eyes — piercing, almost hard as steel. His hair combed perfectly straight and arranged like a model. His face cleanshaven. A three-piece suit. Deep navy-blue jacket and pants, and an orangish brown vest. With a deep navy tie. He was missing a finger on each hand. The ring finger on the left. The middle finger on the right.

It was McCarthy.

“Evening fellows…” His eyes wandered to the Psyker then the apothecary, he seemed oblivious to their empowered states, or uncaring. Rather his attention was focused on a dark corner of the room. His blue eyes sharp as a sword. It was the fourth person in the shop.

The darkness seemed to cloak him, hiding his presence. Then it gently washed away. He looked like a farmer. His back was bent and hunched over, and deep scars raced across his forehead. His beard was wispy and white, some places thinner than others — as if hairs had been torn out. A woven straw hat was on his head and grandfatherly hair peaked out from his brows. The wrinkles of age around his eyes contrasted with the vicissitude of life that seemed to almost bubble out from exuberant brown eyes — eyes that seemed to dance with life and glitter with gold. His plain dusty white tunic was open at the chest, revealing more scars as some white curly hair peeked out. A rope was fastened around his waist, deep brown leotards on his legs, and straw sandals completed his outfit. He moved and walked forward, as if favouring his right side, like it was permanently wounded.

It was Piers.

He smiled at Ebenezer, his eyes were neutral towards Ed. But his gaze at McCarthy was inscrutable, too many emotions were held within.

McCarthy noticed one emotion and his hackles were raised like an enraged wolf, “YOU DARE PITY ME?!” He snarled like a wild animal, disgust and rage lacing his every word.

“I pity everyone who isn’t me.”

McCarthy nearly lashed out, but the soft and heavy voice seemed to calm his emotions. He saw the playful smile dance across the wounded man’s face. He felt disarmed. His anger simmered. He absently kicked a stone, then looked at Ebenezer. “You can’t fix the problem… people who cultivate elements… we take on the characteristics of our element and our immortality is found when we turn into our element. One day… I will be the wind, sweeping through the earth.” He pointed a finger at the apothecary, “You will be a tree… old man… you’re old even compared to me. It’s our fate, humans were made for oblivion.” His eyes turned to Ed, “No one knows the fate of Psykers, but something tells me the end is insanity… there’s always a price for this so-called immortality… life isn’t free after all.”

Ebenezer simply huffed, “You don’t visit me in a few hundred years and all you’ve got to say is negativity! Go back to your damn office!”

Ed balked. Who the frig is this tree-man…

McCarthy waved, “Don’t mind me.”

“I mind, why are you guys in my shop?!”

McCarthy’s lips tightened, he reached for a cigarette, but then stopped. His eyes fell on the farmer. It’s not good to show weakness in front of the strong. McCarthy didn’t think that Piers was as strong as him, but a thousand small cuts could kill a man, he had enough enemies as it was. But one question settled in the Chancellor’s mind.

Who is he?

That was something to consider later. He turned his head to Ebenezer and shrugged, “I have eyes everywhere...” He cast a subtle glance towards Ed, “It’s not everyday you reveal your meagre power. I was curious. That’s why I’m here.”

They all turned to Piers.

McCarthy regarded the farmer, suspicion in his eyes. Ed and Ebenezer fixed their gazes on this enigmatic old man. The old farmer looked at them all. His eyes fixed like steel, unwavering and solid. McCarthy clenched his fists. Ed and Ebenezer tensed up. Was he a friend or a foe?

The farmer flashed a toothy grin, “I just walked in here because I felt like it.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Then maybe you should —” Ebenezer began but stopped when a gnarled old black hand with stitch marks around the wrist, rested on his shoulder.

“He saved my boy’s life…” Ed’s voice was low and soft.

Ebenezer shrugged, “Whatever.”

McCarthy perked his ears in surprise, he wasn’t truly concerned about this old man. There was almost no one on this planet that could defeat him. The old man was enigmatic, but he felt like a mortal. McCarthy looked at the many scars and obvious injuries he nursed. But the fact that he helped Oz was interesting — obviously self-interest wasn’t a motive, the boy was useless ,and Ebenezer and Ed were novel, but hardly worthy allies — a cultivator of any kind of generosity was rare. Perhaps he was incredibly powerful, but it looks like he was on the losing side of an unfortunate battle. Maybe he wants to curry favour? Help speed his recovery? McCarthy soon put the thoughts from his mind. He whispered to the wind, his voice like the song of a crawdad. If anything happened, he was ready.

Seeing the Chancellor wasn’t going to reject — and Piers wasn’t going anywhere — Ebenezer plugged the boy up to the machine and waited. Nothing happened. He cursed. Ed grinned. Ebenezer flicked the on switch. Gaskets whirred, steam hissed and the small glass screen on the steel dome lit up. The men watched the animation of the hourglass with fascination.

“When did you make this?” Curiosity was evident in McCarthy’s voice.

“None of your damn business.” Ebenezer crossed his arms and hmphed, like the caricature of a small child.

Ed shook his head. He understood less and less as time went on about the weird apothecary and his weird store and his weird inventions and his weird connections with the Chancellor. He scratched his bald head and thought of the gem in his skull. He thought of his mission to kill Deloris. Nothing added up. He felt the gem throb for a moment, almost like it was wriggling against his brain matter. He needed to get that looked at.

McCarthy pressed Ebenezer, “When did you make it?”

The apothecary, still pouting, replied curtly, “Not too long ago.”

“It’s your latest model?”

“Yes.”

McCarthy’s fingers twitched as if they itched to grab a cigarette. He controlled the urge, sparing a sidelong glance at the old farmer. He asked Ebenezer patiently, “Is it more accurate?”

“Almost double.”

“How much?” There was a sparkle in the Chancellor’s eye. A machine that was twice as accurate as the latest Bloodreaders, this was a godsend for a man whose profession was to find young geniuses and nurture them.

“It’s not for sale! Especially to a Philistine like —”

“100 000 spirit stones.”

“Deal.”

A handshake and a bag toss later, McCarthy was grinning, Ebenezer was cackling, Ed was dumbfounded, and Piers was impassive. As if on cue, the machine reminded everyone of its presence and its very important task.

“Congratulations human overlord! Your overall talent rating is Average, you have a normal talent for cultivation! May your enemies fear and tremble before you, the worlds shake in your wake!” Its robotic voice intoned. The screen lit up with the machine's findings.

Potential Ratings

Abnormal Energies

Present???

Atmospheric Energy Affinity

Abysmal

Psychic Potential

Abysmal

Elemental Affinity

None

IQ Potential

Abnormal???

Longevity

Average

Muscular Potential

Average

Soulish Affinity

Abysmal???

Current Vigour

Average

Current Vitality

Average

“EH?”

Everyone was shocked. It was unheard of to have potential improve. Not to mention so fast…

“It’s my damn hair gel!” Ebenezer exploded with jubilation as he clutched his fists in victory, tears streaming down his face.

McCarthy was incredulous.

Ed almost fainted.

The farmer was still impassive.

“What abnormal energy does he have?” Ed’s eyes had ran over the list over and over again. The boy was so average it was frightening. But a welcome fright, it was better than the kind of “exceptional” that he was before.

The apothecary stroked his beard thoughtfully, “Dunno, let’s find out!” He hopped to the back of the machine and twisted a bunch of knobs and dials. Soon a paragraph of information appeared in a language Ed could not understand. Ebenezer was in front of the screen before the Psyker could say anything. Ebenezer’s eyes devoured the information, his eyes twinkling with delight.

“Well,” McCarthy’s interest startled them all, but he continued unperturbed, “What’s it say?”

“Wood!” Ebenezer licked his lips, “The boy potentially has Genius affinity with wood. Hehehe! He’ll really have to call me Grandfather…”

“Prick me,” Ed sighed.

McCarthy’s interest faded, it was replaced with pity. He straightened his suit and started walking out, calling out as he went, “It’s a damn shame is what it is… wood’s not even a real element. Eleazer won’t even want to look at him. Not after seeing the disappointment you became.”

“You pricks don’t know anything! So what if wood isn’t the best?! It’s better than nothing!” Ebenezer’s face was red and his tone hot. “That damn Eleazer thinks he can run my alchemy department, half his recipes are mine! So what if I can’t advance passed Major! WHAT DOES IT DAMN MATTER!”

McCarthy turned around, “You and that boy are consigned to a life of mediocrity together. Your longevity is spent old man. Perhaps a student is what you need.”

“Whoa whoa, who said —”

“Ed… there isn’t a better wood cultivator around,” McCarthy’s tone was almost sad.

“I still think the boy could be a body cultivator! Or a martial cultivator! He —”

McCarthy’s slow headshake shattered Ed’s last-ditch hope, “No Anatomical or Body Cultivation manual can shine in the hands of Average potential, it would be a waste of resources… Martial Cultivation is a maybe, but the boy is missing an arm...” McCarthy’s eyes lit up, he pulled a bag from his jacket, put some books in it and tossed it to Ed, “In this bag are five books, each suited for someone with one arm. Let fate guide the boy. Having a Wood Cultivator with only one arm excel is only possible as a quirk of fate.”

Ed looked at the manuals inside the bag. They were all ungraded. His eyes were heavy as he looked at McCarthy. As if asking why their quality was so low.

The Chancellor shrugged, “Manuals that can be used with only one hand don’t get gradings, the boy’s balance is especially bad because he’s missing a whole arm. These manuals aren’t designed for someone with one hand, there’s no such thing. These manuals merely can be used by someone with one hand.”

“Perhaps he can train a regular manual, just adapt it —” Ed began, but this time Ebenezer cut him off.

“It’s better to start with a manual more suited for someone with one arm. Then depending on how he develops and his interests. Then he can perhaps find a graded manual and adapt it, but if he has no skills, what’s there to adapt?”

“Dammit! Piers, what do you…” Ed turned to find the old farmer, but he was nowhere to be seen. They were all shocked, no one had seen him go. McCarthy’s eyes narrowed a bit, even he didn’t notice Piers go. That would require some investigating.

Ed sat down on a chair and leaned forward. He rubbed his bald head. Very hard.

McCarthy waved. Ed gave a weak wave back. The Chancellor nodded and then just walked out. It was Ed and Ebenezer again.

Ed looked up, “God of the Green Hills have mercy… at least when he was Abysmal I didn’t have any expectations to be dashed. But now, now that his future is set. Maybe we can feed him more of the liquid?” Ed’s voice was hopeful. That damn McCarthy didn’t think of that did he!

Ebenezer shook his head, “The reason the boy passed out is because the medicine has become poisonous to him, it’s too full of impurities. He will not grow anymore unless I come up with a more advanced formula.” Ebenezer looked at the boy, “I will experiment, but I doubt I’ll have one ready for a couple decades… and it will be very expensive to get the ingredients he’ll need. Even for me.”

Ed’s face sagged. That elf-skin of a Chancellor knew this! Frig… it’s just not fair…

Ebenezer rested a hand on Ed’s shoulder, “Hey, it’s better that it happened sooner rather than later! The boy can start cultivating years before we predicted! I can wake up the boy, tell him the good news.”

Ed sighed, “It’s only relatively good… wake up the boy.”

Ebenezer bounded up to Oz and popped a pill in his mouth and started shaking him violently. Soon the boy’s eyes opened. He saw the two old men; his expression was puzzled but soon he sat up and looked at them quietly. A new wisdom was hidden within his eyes. Ed looked at his son, his face heavy. Ebenezer sensed the atmosphere. He pulled a tome from his robe and handed it to Ed, he then nodded and walked out of the room — leaving Oz alone with Ed.

The silence stretched on.

Ed scratched his chin.

Oz didn’t move.

Ed began, slowly at first, “Boy… I know you saw… I know you saw what happened to Mama.”

Oz’s fists clenched, his knuckles white.

Ed continued on, “But McCarthy told me she’s still alive… there’s still hope.”

“He’s always been a liar.”

Ed’s eyes went wide. Oz’s mouth was open in shock ­— as if he couldn’t believe what he just said.

“What you say boy?!”

“I… I…”

“Stop stuttering and speak up!”

“I don’t know!”

“Yah don’t know dammit?”

“It… just came out!”

“Came out of my wrinkly nut sacks it did!”

“I —”

“Don’t ever say anything bad about the Chancellor… ever! Especially after what he just done for you… be damned if I know how you think he’s ‘always’ been a liar!” Ed’s tone was harsh, and he was confused, but he was too tired to pursue this. He had adopted a weird boy. The boy spoke as if he had known the Chancellor for years. Ridiculous!

Ed rubbed his bald head, “Now… as I was saying… with Mama away… you and me are in charge of this household — until she gets back — it’s you and me in charge. I know you dun wanna be a cultivator —”

“I want to be a cultibator!”

“DAMMIT BOY! Everyone keeps interrupting me! Frig… now he wants to be a cultivator.”

“I want to —”

“I get it!” Ed held up his hands in surrender and just wished he could return to the days when the kid didn’t talk to him. This was becoming one of the most stressful days of his life. “Now… we just tested you and you have an affinity to wood…”

Oz mouthed the word to himself softly, he seemed neither excited nor sad, just determined.

“… That’s what you get for rubbing that damn liquid on you when I wasn’t around. Vomiting blood like you was, you gotta be careful. You didn’t let me inspect the bloody bottle before you slathered it on!”

Oz hung his head in shame.

“Now…” Ed resumed his discourse, his wrinkly black skin giving it a sense of wisdom, “It’s not all bad… you could say it’s better than we thought. Ebenezer has volunteered to take you as a pupil. You will learn alchemy —”

“I never said I’d teach him that!” A wheezy nasally voice interrupted Ed’s speech.

Ed felt the veins in his temple throb. He was about to burst.

“My alchemy is top notch! It can’t be learned by a one-armed —”

“DAMMIT YOU OLD SWINDLER! First you poison my boy with your shotty skills and now you turn him into a damn cultivating shrubbery like you and you’ve got the gall to not take responsibility?! We was shooting for Anatomical Cultivation, that’s why we got all those damn blood ingredients!”

There was quiet. Then a small abashed voice responded, “I don’t turn into shrubbery…”

Ed thundered, “DETAILS! Shut up! Anyways… boy you’ll be sucking that damned elf-skin dry of any valuable knowledge he has as recompense for his crimes.”

“What did Grandpa Eb —”

“I’ll be damned if I let you call him Grandpa in my presence.”

Oz shut his mouth.

Ed pressed his fingers to his temple and massaged it gently, “Now boy… here’s a book for you from him, it’s called…” Ed bent down and looked at the cover, struggling to read the scrawling script. “I am a Tree… It sounds… very… powerful…” Defeat was in Ed’s tone he handed the book to Oz who squealed with childlike glee when he grabbed it. Ed’s eyes were full of pity. It’s better to have no power than to have not enough power… at least there’s no false hope. He looked at the bag full of manuals. Well… there might be still hope.

Ed held out the small bag to Oz. The boy put the book down and readied himself for the next present. The stoic façade replaced by the expression of an excited child.

“In this bag are five books, pick one… I think…” Ed rummaged through the bag for a moment, nodding to himself, then said, “Four of them are Cultivation Manuals. If you get one of these you’ll be a dual cultivator! The other one… is just a Martial Arts Manual, no cultivation technique… the difference doesn’t matter right now… it’ll all be more clear when you’re older.” Ed proffered the bag, a twinkle of hope in his eyes as he considered the possibility of dual-cultivation. “Here… pick one.”

Oz stared at the bag, his gaze intense.

Ed huffed and wagged the bag, urging him to grab a book.

Oz reached.

He pulled out a thin dusty volume. Ed’s eyes visibly drooped with sadness, “Ah… the Martial Art Manual…” He looked regretfully at the bag, contemplated telling Oz to redraw, but decided against it. “Let’s just call it destiny… we Cultivators are a superstitious lot, if it doesn’t work out you can return it. But stick with it for now.”

The young boy was oblivious to Ed’s tumultuous emotional state, he was simply bursting with glee. Oz squeaked with delight, “Papa, what’s it say?”

Ed took the manual and read it out, his finger tracing every word, “A Manual for the Arts of the Gentleman: Starting with Tea, Disciple and the Cane.”

The little boy oohed and aahed, “It sounds strong!” His eyes glazed over with confusion, “What’s it about?”

“Well… it’s about fencing… I think… it’s suited for you.” Ed eyed Oz’s flapping sleeve, devoid of its arm. “It’s a weapon technique that only requires one arm.”

Oz’s eyes brightened, they then clouded — as if recalling something unpleasant. All bubbliness and eagerness had vanished from his face and he looked sullenly at the two tomes now in his lap. He looked at his adoptive father, his brown eyes glittering, almost shining with what seemed to be flecks of gold. He spoke, his voice soft and sorrowful, “Papa… how long will it take to be strong?”

Ed thought for a moment and then sighed, “Give it twelve years or so… something like that. You’ll be seventeen by then. If these manuals haven’t worked out by then… we’ll try something else.”

Oz nodded his head and clutched the dusty old volumes to his chest. Ed produced a spatial bag and stuffed the books in there and handed it to Oz.

“When I go home, I’ll stitch this bag to a nice white shirt I’ve got… the shirt is enchanted, it’ll fit you no matter how much you grow. It’ll be your training robe, wear it on top of your regular clothes from now on.”

Oz nodded solemnly, sensing the seriousness in Ed’s tone. But little boy’s face wore a questioning expression, “You mean ‘we’… right Papa?”

Ed gave a half-hearted smile to his son and looked to his friend… Ebenezer. The apothecary nodded at him. He nodded back.

“You’re going to move in with… Grandpa Eb… he’ll be training you everyday now.”

Oz gasped and turned to regard Ebenezer with adoration. Ed ruffled the boy’s hair. Ebenezer smiled.

“Visit often,” Ed finished quietly. Then stood. Then walked out the door.

Oz bounced up and down with excitement, for now he wouldn’t miss his father. There were too many things happening at once and an aged presence seemed to be awakening within him. His soft brown eyes oscillated between childishness and a bizarre maturity. For the next twelve years he would cultivate. Grow. Learn to fight. Face many dangers. But all was to be done in secret, only when he was seventeen would be sufficiently advanced in his cultivation to take the entry test for the Sect of Sagacity. His innate talent was too low to apply when he turned fourteen — as was the typical age. He would have to wait until he crossed a certain threshold of power. Only after that, would his life of cultivation truly begin. For now, it would be the basics and homeschooling with schoolmaster Eb, day in and day out. The sound of Ebenezer’s chattering and explanations of the tome drifted out to the street, the dingy old medicine shop was more alive now than it had ever been.

It was now the morning, Ed had wandered around for hours, reflecting on how he could help his son in the future. Hesitant to make his way home, but the twins would probably wake up sometime soon. Ed slowly closed the door to his house. The twins were still sleeping. He snuck up the stairs and put a few drops from Ebenezer’s elixir in each of their mouths, he didn’t have time to console them. He had a lot of things to think about right now. He sat down on his favourite wooden chair at the table. He started thinking about ways to acquire items to boost Oz’s Wood Cultivation. He pulled out his new pipe. And the Nine Stem Tobacco. He stuffed it, gently patting down the leaf. He lit it. He sucked in a breath of smoke and let his mind relax. So he sat for hours. His face switching between ponderousness and contentment. Occasionally he would let his pipe run dry, he’d walk upstairs and check on the twins. Then walk back downstairs and light his pipe again. Soon morning had turned to noon. The mid-afternoon sun was streaming through his windows, gently falling on his skin, warming him, making him sleepy. He turned an eye to a shadowy corner of the room and smirked.

“Come on out Jannes, your face may have changed… but you still smell like a stinking rat.”

A red-haired man with freckles, brown eyes and supple skin seemed to melt from the corner of the room. He wore a black three-piece suit and a white shirt. He confidently strode up to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. Not at all like he had been caught red-handed.

The traitorous Psyker leaned in, his red locks of hair falling around his white freckled face, “So how’s Edna?”

Venom dripped from his snakish tone. But Ed was like a stone. Unmoving. Unperturbed. Wisps of smoke billowed around Ed as he puffed nonchalantly, not as if he was currently facing one of the most powerful Psykers in the world. Not as if the man had just attacked his greatest weakness.

Jannes grew irate.

“Why are you so damn calm!” He hissed, vexation dripping from his tone.

Ed twisted his pipe, chewing the stem thoughtfully, his brown eyes twinkled as he replied, “McCarthy told me he’d leave one of his avatars to guard my children… I think he called her Lucy — said she was one of his strongest. I know she’s around here right now, I can’t really sense her though. You probably tried to enter the children’s rooms eh? Didn’t realize you were outclassed and probably thought it was just some sort of talisman… or item. So now you’ve come here to blackmail me personally…”

Jannes’ knuckles turned white and his face went red with anger. “Stop acting so tough then, if you cut off your own hand I might forgive you and only kill one of your kids!”

“You know,” Ed continued, as if unaware of the Psyker’s growing rage and his indignant remark, “I once thought you were someone impressive… I really almost wavered, I almost stopped being a double agent for McCarthy… almost. But you know why I didn’t?”

Jannes relaxed, he was genuinely curious about this question.

The black Psyker gave a casual laugh, “Don’t worry, I was gunna tell you anyways.” Ed leaned in and bared his pearly white teeth, “You’re weak!”

Jannes’ face twitched, as if someone was whispering in his ear.

Ed cocked an eyebrow in surprise, the expected outburst of rage didn’t occur.

The uninvited guest tugged at his shirt and straightened his cuffs. His voice was oily and seductive, laced with psychic energy, “Ed… today I didn’t come for you or your kids. Today I came on behalf of my master.”

Ed looked surprised, “Paderborn?”

“Yes… his name is L. T. Paderborn, a gentleman of the finest class.” Jannes tapped his fingers as he spoke, his calm expression betrayed by the nervous tick, “I have a message for McCarthy.”

“So you came here, because you were afraid to see him yourself?”

Jannes nodded, “It’s hardly something to be ashamed of, who isn’t afraid of your psychopathic boss?”

“Just say the message, McCarthy’s listening anyways, it’s not like there’s much of a difference.”

Jannes’ eyes went wide, “Wait, he can hear me?”

“He’s probably on his way now.”

As if on cue the dull clack of leather dress shoes sounded in the house. There was no sound of a door opening. Nor the creak of floorboards. McCarthy had entered quietly. His blue eyes were aglow with light as with electricity, the bright glow of his eyes offset his dark blue jacket, pants and tie. And he was spotless, not a speck of dirt on him — like his clothes had been freshly laundered. His orange vest and white shirt were immaculately pressed and clean. There wasn’t even any dirt was on his shoes, as if he had flown here. Black hair combed back perfectly. He walked up to the table. Ed pulled back a chair with his mind. McCarthy gave a slight nod and sat down on the chair.

Jannes pissed himself.

Ed was inwardly shocked. Damn… how’s he get in like that? I never sense him!

McCarthy pulled out a cigarette. It was black. He lit it and drew in a deep breath and exhaled it directly on Jannes. His lips quirked playfully at Jannes’ stiff reaction, “Buck up scum, you’re not dead… yet.”

Jannes was shaking.

“Oh…” McCarthy’s tone was soft, almost caring, “You seem nervous… how about a glass of water.” A wind brushed by them. A tap turned on in the kitchen. A cupboard opened. A cup floated out of the kitchen and a stream of water followed, filling it in mid-air. The tap turned off. The glass was set on the table with a clink, and gently slid over to Jannes.

Jannes stared at the glass like it was the avatar of death itself.

McCarthy looked at him, his eyes still aglow, “Drink it.”

“No thank —”

“It wasn’t a suggestion.”

Jannes shakily took the glass and began lifting it to his lips.

“HEY — Hold on.”

Jannes froze, his eyes darted to McCarthy, startled at the outburst.

McCarthy pulled out a small black bottle from his pocket and uncorked it. He stretched out his hand, letting lit lazily brush under Jannes' nose. The Psyker twitched. McCarthy smiled and gently tipped the bottle over, slowly. He let a couple drops fall into the cup, the water turned a deep black.

McCarthy tucked the bottle away and smiled softly, “Sorry, I almost forgot the flavouring… you may drink now.”

Jannes eyes were wide with horror, “You can’t kill me! I’m Paderborn’s right-hand man!”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re that stupid,” McCarthy condescendingly replied.

Jannes sputtered with no response.

“Let me break it down for you… Paderborn knows it’s just a matter of time until I find him. So, he’s given you as a peace offering… something for me to chew on for awhile.” Like lightning McCarthy reached out and grabbed Jannes face and pulled him close. The Psyker screeched with fear, but found he was unable to even mobilize the slightest bit of resistance. His eyes darted about in confusion.

McCarthy sneered at him, “It was an airborne anti-psychosis agent… I only needed to add some water to it and let you breathe it in. What’s the matter? Can’t feel your Psychic powers?! Hehehehe!” Jannes’ jowls jiggled as McCarthy’s grip threatened to tear his face off. McCarthy stared into Jannes’ fearful eyes, “I know you’re watching Paderborn! This isn’t enough of an offering! I’m not satisfied! I’m still coming for you!” Bones in Jannes’ face creaked and cracked under McCarthy’s grip, McCarthy’s face went violent, “I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!”

McCarthy shook the Psyker violently and Jannes’ foamed at the mouth, his eyes rolled back so that the whites were visible. McCarthy dropped him. Jannes tumbled to the ground like a sack of meat, his body limp from the abuse.

“Find him! Find his trail! Find where he came from and where he went! Find out everything about him!”

Ed nodded solemnly. McCarthy didn’t even look at him. The Chancellor kicked the unmoving body of Jannes, with a smack it flew into a wall. His face warped into a savage grin, “Elderweiss and I will find all the secrets his body is hiding… don’t worry… we won’t kill him.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

McCarthy turned on Ed, his expression savage. Ed backed up. McCarthy’s eyes, which were wild with anger, slowly softened as they fell on the wedding ring on Ed’s finger. His voice now gruff and hoarse, he spoke, “For reasons that are none of your damn business, I forgive you. I forgive you for thinking of betraying me. You have fifteen years to find out who is connected to Jannes in this school… then… then I will do a purge… then that damn Melankomas will burn… him and his department of traitors.”

Ed nodded stiffly.

McCarthy tossed his cigarette. Floated Jannes’ body and walked out.

Ed sank into his chair after the door shut, his face sagging with wrinkles of worry and age, “There’s not enough time… there’s never enough time… there’s never… enough… time.”

He sat at the table smoking. For hours. The mid-afternoon sun had turned into the setting sun, then the setting sun to the sunken sun and soon the moon was out. Every time his pipe was almost empty he stuffed more tobacco inside. But this time he didn’t, the tobacco was almost out, he sucked an extra deep breath of smoke. Tugged his leather jacket around his body and dusted off his denim jeans. He got up. His body tired. His mind exhausted. His everything wearied. He went up the stairs and put a few more drops of liquid in the twins’ mouths. He walked down the stairs, his steps shaky and unsteady. He stopped at the front door, and looked back, too hesitant and shaky to leave his house — to leave his kids in the protection of a monster. He tugged at his black leather jacket and ran a wrinkly hand along his exposed boney chest. His collarbone felt delicate and fragile. He flexed his reattached hand and slipped it into the pocket of his navy-blue denim jeans. He lit another off his black leather shoes and let the moonlight caress his black skin. He sucked deeply on his pipe and pulled himself together, stole a glance up the stairs to where the twins were sleeping and whispered under his breath, “Papa will be back… soon.”

He tapped his pipe on the door, letting the ash fall to the floor. He stored it in his pocket. Stashed his tobacco and walked out into the night.