“Why’s it so bloody dark down here?” a voice said from the hall.

Gunnar’s heart pounded as they backed into the room, which bore a similar layout to the room they’d entered by. They knelt in the corner of the room by the chaise lounge.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” said a female voice. “The lamps must’ve run out of oil.”

“What sort of low-grade operation is Sykes running around here anyways? Never mind, that was a rhetorical question. Just give me one of these rooms. I won’t be falling on my arse, roaming around in the dark.”

Gunnar: Shit.

Em: Get on the sofa.

Gunnar: What?

Em: Make it convincing.

Em offered no more explanation. She leapt up, grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him on his back onto the chaise lounge. She threw back her hood, whipping her red hair around, and proceeded to climb on to his lap.

The door handle jiggled, and Gunnar understood just in time what she’d meant.

He let out a muffled moan. But he barely heard it himself. His mouth had gone completely dry in an instant with Em straddling him. Her hands pressed against his chest, and she arched her back in a remarkably sexy manner for someone dressed in a full cloak.

Em: I said, convincing!

The door creaked open.

There was a rip and a sharp pain in Gunnar’s chest, and he let out a loud and very real cry.

“Oh my god!” bellowed the man at the door.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl whispered. “I didn’t know this room was occupied.”

Em kept her back to the door, and still wincing at the pain from her claws, Gunnar turned his head away. The girl at the door wasn’t Jiselle, but it was certainly possible it was someone from the Mermaid who could recognize him. Acting oblivious to the intrusion, Gunnar let out a couple more moans as Em leaned forward and pressed her lips against his neck and began tugging at his skin with her teeth and sucking loudly.

They held this position until they heard the door latch behind them, and the muffled voices of the two walking away to find another room.

Em rolled off of him, and they both slumped on the sofa, chests heaving.

“Damn, that was close,” Gunnar murmured. He glanced down at his chest to find a long rip down the front of his shirt and a light seepage of blood. “Thanks for that. Your claws are too sharp for your own good.”

“It worked, that’s all that matters.”

“Is it, really?”

Em ignored him. “There’s more traffic than I thought in here.”

“Not ideal, that’s for sure.”

“Speaking of which…”

Footsteps returned down the corridor outside, heading toward the main hall. Gunnar braced to resume their positions as another set of voices approached.

“Mmm, Lord Tindal. That was delightful.”

“Heh heh, well, I’ve had a few years of practice, haven’t I?”

The woman chuckled in what seemed to Gunnar to be obvious patronization, and said, “Your skills were not lost on me, milord.”

“Nor yours on me,” the man said.

Their voices faded down the halls, and Gunnar cringed at how slimy all these old lords sounded.

“Okay, I’m escorting you out,” Em said, grabbing his hand. “Keep your hood up.”

While he’d been paying attention at the door, Em had swiftly slipped out of her ninja getup and into her gown from the theater the other night.

Gunnar shook his head, impressed. “That was fast.”

“Just seizing the moment.”

“Weren’t worried they’d come in here?”

“Nah, they were coming from the wrong direction for that. You good? No unanticipated half-masts?”

Gunnar glared. “I’m way too jittery for that.”

Em grinned and opened the door, pulling him after her. “Oh, thank you for that, milord,” she practically purred.

“Mmm, I am good, aren’t I?” Gunnar said, deepening his voice. “Most say it’s because of the size of my—”

Em elbowed him in the ribs.

“Well, you already know exactly what I mean, don’t you,” Gunnar finished.

Em stifled a literal snort.

Em: God, don’t make me laugh!

The hall was empty, and still dark. They strode swiftly along the runner of red carpeting and reached the door. They each took a breath, and Em opened it.

The room was cast in a dim light from across the dining area. A door across the room swung closed as the latest client was escorted out, leaving the vast hall empty.

They quickly ducked into the shadows in the area near the mermaid tank. Chairs were stacked legs-up on top of tables, and the floor looked to have been swept and mopped, small streaks of lingering dampness still lining the floors. Soft voices echoed from beyond the entrance, but no one came in.

It was strange to be back here. Gunnar had spent most mealtimes at the Mermaid his first few days in-game. And in a moment, everything changed. Sykes and Kohli betrayed him, and now, they were basically arch-enemies.

He wondered what had happened to Kohli after his failed attack on the crypt. Probably Sykes’s had sent him packing, the way Sheira had been ditched by her own guild. The thought of Kohli scrounging for XP on the streets brought no pity. The thief had made his choice. And he’d got what was coming to him.

And as far as Gunnar was concerned, Sykes would get what was coming to him too.

He and Em scoured the dining hall for signs of a trap door or something, but there was no such luck.

Gunnar: Would have been too much to ask for an easy entrance, I suppose.

Em: The back then?

She pointed toward the kitchens, which appeared completely dark. But Gunnar shook his head and pointed to another door behind the bar. The one Sykes had always come out of.

Gunnar: I think Sykes has an office back there. I’d guess that’s our best bet.

Naturally, a thin line of light shone from the space under the door. Hurrying as best they could in a crouched position, they crossed the room and ducked behind the bar. Bottles of liquor lined a shelf below the bar top, and a strange conglomeration of smells filled his nostrils—spilled liquor and soap and general restaurant grime.

He activated Dragon’s Breath, and beyond the door, he could sense the warmth of lapping flames from two sources. He reached for the nearest flame, dimmed one almost to the point of winking out, and listened for a reaction on the other side. It was utterly quiet. He compressed the flames until they extinguished, waited again for a reaction, and when there was none, he took care of the second flame.

Em shook her head with jealousy.

Gunnar just winked and moved over to the door. He took a deep breath, then carefully pushed the door open and stepped into the back room.

Hall was more like it. There were several doors extending down a long, wide corridor. Light emitted from the edges of the nearest door, and there were soft voices beyond it. Gunnar guessed it was Sykes’s office. Best he could tell, the other rooms were unoccupied, though it would have been nice to have some sort of listening spell.

But Em possessed some enhanced ears as a chimera, which might get the job done.

Gunnar: Hear anything in the other rooms?

Em: Hard to tell with those voices right by us. Don’t think so, but pretty sure there’s something below us. Bet you’re right about a staircase back here somewhere.

Gunnar: Well, let’s hope so. Guess we start checking doors.

They ventured down the hall, cracking open each door as they went. The first few led to storage rooms for food and liquor, and one led down another hall that smelled of greasy food, which probably connected to the kitchens.

There was a large door around the corner near the end of the hall, and cool air seeped from the seams of the doorframe.

Em: Must lead back to an alley.

Gunnar: Good to know.

It was bolted shut, but looked like a door that only latched on the inside.

They passed two more store rooms, then found a door that was locked with a thick iron mechanism bolted into the frame. Gunnar produced a pair of lock picks from his Inventory.

Em: Should I do the honors?

Gunnar: Hey, my lock picking skills are improving.

Em: I think Lord Dravingdel’s cages would beg to differ.

Gunnar: I was rushed, and there was mayhem going on up above.

Em: And you’re—what?—totally zen now?

Gunnar ignored her and concentrated hard. He’d learned a trick since Dravingdel’s. It’d helped him on the slaver ship, and he saw no reason it wouldn’t work now. He cast Mindful Moment and focused his Mana on the lock, zeroing in his focus as he slipped the lock picks inside. There were several mechanisms within, and as he shifted the steel rods, he could sense vibrations from the metal. Once he was certain he’d got it right, he began to twist the rods.

Snap!

“Dammit,” he murmured out loud.

“Just let me do it,” Em whispered.

Obstinately, he produced another set of picks and set to work again. These mechanisms were larger than any lock he’d picked before, and the picks seemed to be more sensitive. Carefully, he set them again, and began to turn, this time even slower than the last. Vibrations shot up the picks at the tension. He shifted slightly and turned further. Shifted again, and—

The lock gave, and Gunnar pushed the door open, offering Em a defiant look of triumph.

“Proud of you,” Em said sarcastically as she slipped past him and headed down a winding set of iron stairs. Gunnar followed after.

The staircase was old, and creaked and swayed with their movements, no matter how softly they tread. The stairs wound down what Gunnar estimated to be at least two flights.

But before they reached the bottom, a voice hollered from below.