I stepped forward, setting the point of the Spear against Ira’s heart.

Futilely, he tried to lean away from it. “Wait, don’t you dare--hnn!”

As soon as I made contact, his whole body stiffened. The point glowed brightly where I touched his chest.

This close to him, the true sight revealed what he really was. Every person, even the uninitiated, has flashes of their Spark visible sometimes, especially in high-stress situations. A human chained to a chair would have lightning-spikes of anxiety running all over their body.

But Ira’s was gray, like a desaturated photograph. It rippled like smoke. A shadow, not a light. How had I ever wondered if he was really Damned? The evidence was so obvious.

“What’s your name?”

“Ira Greer,” he spat through clenched teeth.

“...Your real name.”

“I-I,” he tried to fight the Spear, but ultimately the truth came out in a rush. “Illya Rurikovich of Ray House.”

Triumphantly, I grinned down at him. “And how old are you, Illya?”

“Twenty-two.”

I stifled a sigh, pressing the point harder into his chest. “How old are you, really?”

“Twenty-two!” He exclaimed. “Sorry we can’t all be ancient, self-loathing, and brooding.” He snapped his mouth shut, grinding his jaw.

“That’s not possible,” I said. “How can you be pre-centennial with the ability to hide your eyes?”

“My line is strong,” he growled. “My bringer is the Primus of our House.”

“A Primus is like a king, right? I believe we’re in the presence of royalty, guys,” I said to the others. “Forgive me if I don’t curtsy.”

“I’ll never forgive you,” he vowed, and with the point against his heart, I knew it was true.

“Well, shucks,” I said, then moved on to more pressing concerns. “How many people have you killed?”

“None,” he said, emphatic.

I gave him a skeptical look. “You’ve never taken a single life?”

“I don’t need to.” For the first time he seemed almost haughty. “The humans of my House see it as a great honor to provide for us.”

“I’m sure they do,” I mocked.

“What about you?” He shot back. “How many of us have you killed.”

“Seven hundred and eighty-eight,” I said cheerfully. “Though I suspect, in the very immediate future, that number will be 789.”

“Seven hundred…” he trailed off, like I’d honestly shocked him.

The Spear wavered, the blade almost sucking in the spiral, and I had to refocus. Asking Ira--Illya--questions while I kept the Spirit spinning was harder than igniting the technique in the first place.

“Careful, Seth,” Espy chided. “Don’t get overconfident. Balance and peace, only.”

I cleared my throat. “Who knows you came to see me today?”

A fine tremble broke out over his whole body, like he was fighting Ithuriel with everything he had. “My mom and Zo.”

“Are they both vampires?” I asked.

Venomous, he said, “Just Zo.”

“Wonderful,” I said. “Did you damn her?”

“I brought her into the night,” he said. “If that’s what you mean.”

“So you have killed, then,” I said. “You killed Zo.”

“She didn’t stay dead,” he protested. “And now she’ll live forever.”

“If you can call it living,” I said. “Lurking in the shadows of the world, preying on the innocent.”

“Very few humans are innocent,” he said. “And I’ve never fed on anyone who didn’t want it.”

“I know a little about the ‘Great Houses’,” I said. “You raise humans like cattle.” He didn’t reply, but I didn’t need him to. “They spend their whole lives thinking of themselves as stock, not people. So how could they honestly want it, if they’ve never been taught to want anything else? If they can’t say no, how can they really say yes?”

His mouth worked, but he didn’t say anything. Apparently not knowing the answer didn’t count as a lie. Interesting.

“We’re not here to give a lecture on consent,” Evan called. “Find out what he knows, and let’s get this over with.”

“Fine.” Focusing back on Ira, I asked, “How are your victims chosen?”

“I don’t have victims.” He replied too easily, not even fighting the Spear. “I told you, I’ve never killed anyone--”

“Two people are going to die tonight.” I cut him off. “Who are they?”

“I don’t know.”

“How are they chosen?”

“I don’t know.”

The Spear flickered again and I had to breathe away the frustration.

“Let’s try something else,” I said. “You don’t know who the victims are or how they’re chosen, is that correct?”

“Yes.” Even in the grip of Ithuriel, his answer seemed a little smug.

I smiled. “Who would?”

Snapping his mouth shut, his whole body started to vibrate. I could physically see the effort it was taking him to resist.

“Who would know the answers to my questions?” I twisted the Spear against his chest, not enough to draw blood, just enough so he got the point.

“M-many people!” He finally gasped, chest heaving though he didn’t need to breathe.

“But not your people,” I said. If Illya’s bringer was the Primus of his cult, there’s no way he wouldn’t know something about it. “This Ray House of yours isn’t behind these murders, is it?”

Eyes wide, frantic, he groaned, “N-n-no.”

“Who is?” I didn’t allow the thrill of victory to disrupt the Spear, not when I was so close. “Who is behind the murders that happen every decade?”

“I can’t say,” he huffed. “They’ll kill me!”

“Illya Rurikovich,” I commanded. “Tell me who they are!”

“The v-v-v--”

And then something impossible happened. Even in the grip of vanadium chains, Ira’s eyes turned black and his body dissolved into smoke.