Amoroth's apartment was the penthouse of a shining complex nestled on the concrete bank of the aqueduct. As Darius and I strolled through the polished lobby and out the revolving door, I took a moment to glance behind me. The building we left was suave and modern, its frame woven with steel that gleamed in the late afternoon sun. The avenue was freshly paved and the planters burst with bunches of heather and lilac. There were only a handful of cars parked alongside the curb, and they were all obscenely expensive in make and model.

Darius and I walked, and the cityscape morphed and changed around us. The expensive high-rises gave way to shorter, blockier structures as we roamed southward toward the lingering vision of Klau Tower. The trendy apartments dwindled into commercial lots as the skyline began to rise again. The street congestion increased and the perfumed planters were replaced by billboards, benches, and traffic lights. The commercial buildings became less flashy and more streamlined as we neared Verweald's industrial heart.

Darius stopped and I collided with his solid back. "There." He jabbed a thumb across the avenue. I followed the gesture, spotting a dumpy brick structure slid between two metal and glass compounds. The front of it was heavily cracked and the stones beneath the windows were streaked by rust and grime. The flat sign above the double doors read "G&R Supplies and Distribution."

"How—how did you know that was here?" I sputtered as Darius turned to observe the buildings behind us. Whatever he was looking for he found, as the Sin soon bobbed his head and grabbed my wrist.

"Here." He tugged me around the corner into a slender passageway allowing access to an office building's side entrance. "Wait here, out of sight."

"Darius—?"

"I remembered it," the Sin said, cutting my question short. He released my arm and ran the pad of his thumb across his fingertips as if to dispel the lingering pressure of my touch. "While searching for the den, I canvased this area of the city. My memory is...exceptional. I recalled seeing the building when you mentioned the name."

That Darius could remember such a meaningless detail boggled my mind. It was yet another peculiar intricacy, a facet of information that meant so much more than I could perceive. The Sin had lived thousands of lifetimes—had witnessed a million dreams, nightmares, wars, and resolutions. To be able to remember it all with such exacting detail....

Darius left without another word. He crossed the road without bothering to check the flowing traffic. A Buick swerved to avoid him, horn blaring as the Sin ignored the irate driver and disappeared into G&R's ugly doors.

Exhaling in defeat, I sat in the shadow of a covered dumpster and leaned upon the office building's plaster wall. Heat radiated upward from the dark concrete, soaking into my sore muscles and the thick material of my Klau uniform. "Stupid demon," I grumbled, prodding a piece of crumpled newspaper away from me. "'Stay here, do this, do that.' I'm not a dog."

I loathed to admit it, but Darius had a point. Misfortune hounded me like a spurned suitor. I found myself in far too much trouble for being such an ordinary human woman. Perhaps, for now, it was a good idea for me to make myself scarce.

The dumpster exuded a noxious smell in the summer heat, and I cringed as I covered my mouth and nose with my sleeve, hunkering down into my hiding spot. I lamented the deplorable turn my life had taken as I shut my eyes. Forced to hide behind dumpsters from murderous cultists. What's next? Swimming through the sewers to escape mages? Honestly, I'd better take that thought back before it becomes reality.

I waited for Darius to return, praying the building wouldn't suddenly erupt in a pillar of flame. As the minutes ticked by and I became increasingly more impatient, an unsettling chill began to creep along my spine. Considering it was well over ninety degrees in the shade, it was preposterous for me to feel cold—but the prickling numbness continued to grow more prevalent. It was...familiar, and yet...and yet....

"Darius?" I whispered as my eyes fluttered open. It couldn't be the Sin. Not from this distance. The strange shadow in my mind that perked up whenever Darius was near hadn't stirred. In fact, the shadow lay so still, it was as if I'd imagined the sensation to begin with. Uneasy, I pressed my cheek to the plaster to peer behind the dumpster.

It was difficult to see between the metal container and the wall, but a section of the passageway's mouth was visible. A lean man stood there, his face and body cloaked by the dipping sun and the expanding shadows. By his posture, I knew the man was facing my way, his body tilted in such a manner as to convey his intention of continuing on the main street, but something had grabbed his attention. He paused and studied the alleyway.

The cold settled around my heart like a steel trap. I tightened my arms about my legs and held them to my chest.

A minute passed. I heard shoes scuff the pavement. I peeked behind the dumpster again as my teeth chattered, and the man left, shaking his head as if lost in thought. Warmth returned, and I slouched as the heat sank into my bones and reminded my weary body of its well-earned lethargy. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep and forget today—forget the last couple of weeks, but then I would have never known Darius, and I would have never come to understand the true nature of this world. I wouldn't have valued my life.

I couldn't help but scoff when I realized I would regret never meeting the Sin of Pride.

Darius returned in another half an hour. The doors to G&R swung open and he strolled out, moving with purpose as he tucked a bulging folder into the inner fold of his jacket. He sprinted across the busy street, dodging cars with surprising grace before he ducked into the passageway with me. Not a full minute passed before two men spilled out of G&R, heads whipping about in a frenzy of motion as they both took off running toward opposite ends of the avenue.

"What did you take?" I asked as I watched as one man disappeared at the end of the block. The other was pirouetting in place, obviously searching for Darius.

The Sin smirked as he unzipped his jacket enough to tug the folder free. He handed it to me and I took it, surprised by the unexpected weight. "Employee registry."

Clever. If we had the registry, we could see a small profile on every person working for G&R as well as their company identification photos. If the cultist was in fact working there, Darius and I would be able to find him with ease.

"You didn't kill someone for this, did you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes!" I hissed, swatting his arm with the bulky folder. I hadn't wanted the information badly enough to sacrifice the life of some poor underpaid secretary. "Yes, it does matter! I did not tell you to kill an innocent person!"

"Lower your voice. By the Pit, I didn't kill anyone."

I stuffed the banded folder into my battered purse as the irritated Sin dipped his hand into the rear pocket of his jeans and withdrew a slim smartphone. I gawked as he began tapping out numbers.

"Hey—whoa, what?!" I said, yanking on the demon's sleeve to gain his attention. Darius's brow rose, his baleful eyes falling upon my own. He really hadn't liked that I thought he'd killed someone. "When did you get a phone?!"

His lips quirked as he lifted said phone to his ear. "Why?"

"What do you mean why? Because, when my life is in mortal peril, it would be much easier to call than it would be to summon you via sketchy supernatural means!"

My chosen verbiage had the creature rolling his eyes. "'Sketchy supernatural means.' What an eloquent statement, girl. My, why ever would your species earn such inimical disdain?" He flicked my sore side when I opened my mouth to argue. "It's not mine, idiot."

"Your sarcasm isn't appreciated," I wheezed as I hunched, nose wrinkled with discomfort.

"Danyel." Darius's voice cut across my griping. The Sin started walking and I followed. He kept our pace hurried but cursory, fast enough to pass the slower Verwealdians without drawing undue attention to ourselves. The remainder of the Sin's conversation was drowned out by the burble of voice and revving vehicles. I caught the drifting words "car, right now," and "don't care."

We circled the block once, watching for the G&R men. The phone met an unfortunate fate in another reeking dumpster. On our second circuit, a glossy town car dived across two lanes of traffic to pull alongside a stretch of red curb. The rear door came open, issuing a low strain of pop music from the interior. I thought little of it until Darius took me by the arm and shoved me inside.

"Get off—!" I snarled, gifting him with a solid kick to the thigh before realizing we were not alone in the car's backseat. Daniel Fairchild sat on my other side, his ankle propped on his opposing knee, dressed in ripped jeans, a black blazer, and far too much eyeliner. He smelt of sweat and a liberal dousing of cologne. His brown hair was distinctly rumpled, framing his winsome face. He was also going to great lengths to avoid touching me. As Darius shoved me over to create enough space for himself on the bench, Fairchild—Danyel—crammed his body into the corner so his leg would not touch mine.

The car started moving again. "I was busy, Darius," Danyel muttered, resituating how the blazer's buttons lay across his middle. There was no shirt beneath the jacket—and I grimaced when I realized what the Sin had been busy doing. I leaned closer to Darius, wrinkling my nose. "This had better be important."

The Sin of Pride's expression never shifted; he eased his arm behind my shoulders and snatched a handful of Fairchild's silky hair. He slammed Danyel's head into the rear window, the thick thud echoing through the private backseat of the town car.

"Ouch! Fu—!"

"I could call you across realms to do nothing more than kiss my feet," Darius intoned, tightening his fingers until Danyel whined. "And it would still be more important than whatever you were doing."

"Yes, my lord. My apologies."

Darius released Danyel and settled into his own corner of the vehicle. I don't think he noticed the way the younger Sin's hands formed white-knuckled fists atop his knees. I wondered how old Danyel was, and what his sin was. He was young enough to lick Darius's boots but undoubtedly much older than me. Judging by the unveiled fury in his eyes, I knew the Sin was old enough to feel the sting of indignation.

Danyel's driver took us home. If Danyel wondered why Darius needed a ride or what I was doing there with Pride, he didn't ask. After his initial greeting, he only spoke to Darius with utter deference, the momentary spark of fury quelled into the somber color of his eyes. They spoke in a language I could not understand—Mandarin, if I was interpreting the varied cadences correctly.

I caught Envy's name twice. Each time it was uttered, Danyel lowered his gaze to the car's floor.

Evergreen Acres awaited our return in the same liminal silence we had left it in. The town car halted before my quiescent house, and Darius and I exited the vehicle without a word. Likewise, Danyel said nothing as the door slammed closed and the car sped away.

Darius and I went inside. As I turned on the light, the Sin gathered my strewn mail from the table to clear the surface. He tossed the mail onto the counter and held out his calloused hand, expectant. I stared at it in confusion for a moment, then removed the registry from my bag.

"You know," I told him as Darius opened the folder and dumped its contents. I caught a few of the more vigorously tossed pages, setting them atop the messy pile as the Sin began the tedious task of spreading each profile out on the cleared table. "You should be nicer to Danyel."

Darius paused, a look of disdain creasing the plains of his austere face. A chill danced upon my nerves, forcing a shiver from me. It reminded me of what had happened in the alley. What had that been? "You want me to be...nice?"

"God forbid, the universe may implode." I touched one of the sheets, tracing a fingertip along the border of the black and white photo printed there. It was of a woman I did not recognize. Was it possible she, too, was a part of the cult? She had a lovely smile. Could people who smiled like that kill others when the camera wasn't pointed at them? "Sometimes I think your...your pride can blind you," I said, shoving aside the brief dossier of the unfamiliar woman. "Danyel hates you."

Darius continued to sort the loose pages, his gaze returning to his work. "I do not live in your world, Sara. Kindness is not a boon among the Sins."

"Apparently I don't live in my world, either. I live in yours." I discarded another worthless sheet, allowing it to flutter to the floor. "The saying goes 'you can catch more flies with sugar than with vinegar.' Don't you think Danyel would cooperate with you more if you showed appreciation for his regard or obedience?"

"Danyel can hate me all he pleases. It does not matter, and I do not care. I am the only mentor to whom the little parasite can cleave. The others would not take him. If not for me, he would not have survived a day beyond the Realm—and if he wishes to continue surviving, Danyel will do as I say without complaint. My kindness would teach him nothing. If anything, it would get the fool killed." Darius spoke in a bored voice, clearly distracted by the issue at hand. He hesitated as he lifted one of the pages from the assortment. "This one. He was the driver of that van I crushed." He found another page. "And this one. This was the one that killed himself."

I took the pages. I did indeed recognize the latter as the cultist who had tried to stick a switchblade in my throat. The dossier stated he was named Edgar Cline, and the man had been a janitor for G&R. I snorted, holding the paper so tightly my hand had begun to tremble. "Janitor. No janitor is able to afford clothes as luxurious as his."

"He was a cleaner...of sorts." Darius snatched the page from my grip. "He and his counterpart were sent to kill you, to clean the mess you're creating for them."

Frowning, I peered at the strewn papers. There had to be nearly a hundred profiles cluttering my table. "They can't all be cultists. There's too many of them."

Darius nodded as he rubbed his jaw and the line between his brows deepening to a shadowed furrow. "The company itself, G&R, is most likely innocent of any duplicity. A handful of the cultists may be using its facilities or resources to further the Exordium's goals. The misdirection is fairly simple but ultimately effective." Darius laid the two dossiers of the known cultists side by side, then dropped a loose handful of unknown people in front of them.

I straightened the pages as I thought about what the Sin had said. The dossiers Darius had thrown overlapped the cultists, nearly hiding them from view. "It's like a...human shield."

Again, Darius nodded. "The best cults of history traffic in illusion and misdirection, Sara. They are magicians who cannot afford to show their hand. But with this—." Darius lofted the empty folder. "We've dispersed the smoke and revealed the mirrors. No member of a cult is singular; he will have inexorable threads leading toward the masterminds of this...farce."

He dropped the folder on the untidy pile, pushing more pages to the floor. I hated how the demon had such little concern for items when he was cranky. Food, books, plastic wrap, paper, plates—it all landed on the floor when Darius was in a cross mood. Sighing, I bent at the waist to gather the dossiers again. The top one was rumpled by my grasp, but the familiar face printed there had my lips parting to suck air through my teeth.

Tara's murderer stared back at me.

Darius was behind me. His hand grasped mine with unwavering strength, raising the dossier to the Sin's eye-level. "Ah, John Pier," Darius said as he leaned his weight forward. His breath touched my ear. "Such a simple pleasure," the Sin whispered, his voice roving like unclipped talons across my skin. "Putting a name to the face of your vengeance."

The heat of the Sin's presence dwindled as he withdrew, trailing his fingers across the back of my hand as he left.

I stared at the dossier, unflinching. More dossiers fluttered to the floor—more unknown people raining from my table, all of them seemingly innocent and yet all completely capable of such heinous, heinous deeds.

"The devil is not as black as he is painted." I shut my eyes and exhaled.

Yes, it really was such a simple pleasure.