My house was cool and empty, undisturbed by the thunderstorm still laboring above the valley in the late evening hour. I sat on my sofa, worrying the loose threads of my grandmother's quilt between my bruised, aching fingers as ponderous silence ate at my thoughts. It sat upon my body like some clingy gremlin, his knobby hands clenched on my shoulders as it tried to force me down. I welcomed the distant rumbles of thunder disturbing the night and my mind.

Darius hadn't returned. I didn't know where the Sin had gone or if he was okay, if he was coming back.

had killed Gregor Eoul. Our best chance at information about the Exordium was dead because of me.

The briefcase Darius had bled upon and nearly died for was on the table. I hadn't opened it for fear of the disappointment lurking inside.

My gaze kept roving over the busted front door. I hoped the Sin of Pride would come strolling in and gift me with his usual pithy, antagonistic remark. "Awake, girl? Afraid of the big, bad demons in your dreams?"

Truth be told, yes. Yes, I was terrified of the things lurking within my subconscious, the things that came crawling to the forefront of my mind when I succumbed to my nightmares. I was terrified of literal demons: Balthier was out there, and his threat was more real than it had ever been before. I had called Amoroth and had begged her to destroy my employee file, which meant my address was no longer drifting upon the wind—but the murderous creature had my name. How hard would it be for him to find me?

My heart began to beat faster. Unsettled, I rose from the sofa and paced for the seventh time that night, all while Tara's cat—strange, flighty creature that it was—watched from his place across the room. All my wounds were painful, but none so much as the bullet wound or the injury in my side. The former was bundled in clumsy bandages, and the latter was swaddled by a small towel. I had taken the final little white pain pills lurking in the bottom of my purse and was fully expecting to lose myself in a muggy cloud of hydrocodone ignorance—and yet I paced. And worried.

I sat again with a moan. I snatched the red quilt into my hands and shouted, "Where is that idiot Sin?!"

The blanket, nor my house, had an answer. The thunder rolled.

Frustrated, I buried my face in the blanket's worn fabric and inhaled, trying to forget the pain, the uncertainty, and the gut-wrenching anxiety. The scent of my orchid conditioner still lingered in the fibers—but so did the headier smell of sandalwood, ash, and earth. I remembered Darius was using this blanket whenever he slept as I pulled the quilt from my face. Not that I'd ever seen the creature sleep. I imagined he had to do so at some point, however.

"Please be okay," I whispered to the quilt as tugged upon the loose threads again. My ministrations were ruining the embroidery. "Please...."

I fell asleep. I didn't remember doing so, but I could only surmise my liberal dose of pain medication had finally worked its way through my system to numb my mind and body. The next I was aware, I was slumped upon the sofa's cushions snoring like a grizzly bear. A shadow stretched above the sofa as a blurred figure blocked the wan morning light waiting outside the window. The figure sucked air through his teeth in a displeased 'tsk' sound.

"Sleep in your own bed, idiot." The figure flicked the middle of my forehead, and I sat up with a yelp.

Darius—red-eyed and frowning—sat upon the edge of the coffee table with his hands folded between his spread knees. The Sin wore a fresh pair of black jeans and a red cotton t-shirt. He was glaring at me, and I had never thought I would be so glad to see that creature's scorn. "You're alive."

"Of course I'm alive," the Sin scoffed as he scratched his freshly shaved jaw. He must have managed to bathe and groom himself at some point last night. His gaze drifted over my rumpled hair, disgruntled face, and wrinkled Klau uniform before settling upon my wounded arm. He sighed as he reached across what little space separated us and began to unwrap the crooked bandages. "It's a wonder you've survived this long without me, Sara Gaspard."

I shrugged as the Sin swiftly reworked the wrappings. He concentrated upon his task, his fingers moving with a delicate finesse my own injured hands hadn't been able to manage, and I stared. "I was worried," I grumbled, turning to face the sunny window. No trace of the injured Sin I'd seen in Imor remained. This was the Darius I was used to, the one I had been living with for weeks.

"I know." The Sin's hands hesitated, slowing their motions. "I was in no danger. I did not lie when I said nothing Eoul possessed could possibly stop me. That includes cut-rate wizards."

"But Eoul said—he said Emerson, that mage, has killed a Sin in the past, and you were—." All but dead, helpless upon the floor, covered in his own blood and bile.

Darius snorted. "Just because they are not human does not mean men like Emerson don't lie, Sara. Mages are notorious blowhards. Osamu Tachibana, the Sin of Greed before Danyel, did not die at the hands of Emerson Blue-Iron. He...devolved, and was put down by Balthier."

Devolved?

"But only the Sins—and now you—are truly aware of Osamu's fate. Emerson was simply the first mage who became aware of the transition between Greed Sins and claimed to be the originator of the change. None amongst the Terrestrians can prove differently, so he has ridden that claim for years, earning himself a nice, tidy position within that despicable mage prison. Vile little men. The wizard claims to be over one hundred and twelve years old, which is absolute nonsense. Very few mages have ever managed to extend their lifetimes past what is typical for their kind. They live longer than humans, but not longer than witches, and no more than a blink in the eyes of an immortal."

I was content with listening to the creature speak. I didn't ask questions—a feat of near miracle proportion for me. Darius was usually more reticent to share the history of the Sins. I appreciated the lesson, however brief it may be.

Darius finished redoing my bandages with a final tug. "My grievances with the mages aside, I...." His brows came closer together as the Sin frowned and his upper lip curled above his white teeth. "I was in a great deal of pain. I will not describe what Emerson's spell was doing, precisely, but it was...unpleasant. You sparred me from horrid torment, and you—you believed you were saving my life."

I met the Sin's gaze. He stared for a minute, not saying a single word as his hands returned to their previous position between his knees. I imagined Darius was searching for something, trying to decipher a fact about me he had not known before. I did not think that fact sat well with him, as the creature seemed unable to comprehend its meaning and come to proper terms with its existence. "You continue to...surprise me, Sara. I may appear young, but I am not and I am not easily surprised. In my years, I have accepted that humans act within certain patterns of behavior and I have not witnessed many accounts where they vary from those patterns. None, in fact.

"But you...you defy my expectations. I am unable to predict what you will do next, what you will say, what new aspect your character will gain or shed. The sensation is disquieting, but not altogether unwelcome."

Was that a compliment? I wasn't certain, because the Sin of Pride did not sound pleased. He was an ancient thing, a creature hearkening of a bygone age when the realm was young, the skies were clear, and the stars had first bloomed. I doubted many things ever changed for the Sin. He had seen far too much in his unending life to be surprised, and yet....

I surprised him?

Uncomfortable with his unblinking gaze focused upon me, I decided to change the conversation. "I, uh, killed Eoul," I said as I inspected the new bandages on my arm. I brought up my murder without transition, wincing at my own bluntness. "Accidentally."

Darius blinked as the corners of his mouth twitched. "Did you, now?"

"I was an accident. I think I bashed the man's head into a wall when I threw us down the stairs. Not that he didn't deserve to have his head bashed in, but still." I bit the cut in my lip I had received when I fell down the aforesaid stairs. "What a waste."

Darius rose and proffered his hand. "Come along, little killer. I've a surprise for you."

Wary, I nonetheless allowed the Sin to help me stand and lead me toward the restroom, of all places. Darius swept his arm out in silent invitation and I entered the dark bathroom before him. I stood on the spongy rug as I clicked on the light.

Gregor Eoul, trussed up in enough duct tape to strap a stallion to a barn door, was wriggling in my bathtub as he tried to get free.

"How—?!" I gasped, taken aback by the CEO's appearance. I had thought him dead. Hadn't he been dead? But, come to think of it, I hadn't stopped to check the man's pulse or his breathing after I had rolled down the stairs with him. I hadn't cared. I had hurried to Darius.

The Sin of Pride leaned into my ear, and his cruel smile curled against my skin. "It takes more than a one hundred and ten pound woman falling atop a man to break his neck," he whispered. I swatted the Sin as I fought to keep my face placid. He chuckled but nonetheless straightened.

Eoul's bulging eyes stared at the two of us as if he would like nothing more than to crack our skulls. Dried blood streaked his paunchy cheeks and shiny forehead.

"Why is he in the bathtub? My bathtub." I asked as Darius stepped around me to approach the CEO. Former CEO, I should say. Eoul wasn't going to be presiding over any board meetings in his future.

"Do you have a better place to stash your unwanted garbage?" Darius retorted as he knelt at the tub's side. He hoisted Eoul into a sitting position with one hand. Eoul's pricey loafers scuffed the tub's fiberglass coating as he kicked his bound feet. "Are you ready to begin, Mr. Eoul?"

Eoul garbled two seemingly uncomplimentary words into the bundled cloth stuffed into his mouth. On closer inspection, his gag appeared to be a pair of my socks—which I did not appreciate in the slightest. Darius yanked the socks free, then shoved his hand into Eoul's mouth before the balding man could take a breath. The Sin flexed his fingers and the CEO squealed as Darius yanked free the false molar and the cyanide capsule.

"When your life requires you to walk around with poison in your teeth," Darius observed as he flicked the tooth and capsule into the open toilet. "You should probably reconsider your life choices."

Eoul tried to scream, but Darius squeezed his face and hissed, "Be silent."

The CEO's lips continued to flap, but not a peep rose from him. Darius leaned upon his fist and watched Eoul blither with jaded, hungry eyes.

"I'm a busy Sin, Gregor, so it is within your best interests not to toy with me. I'd rather not rip your fingers off one by one with my host present."

No, that was not something I wanted to witness or have any part of—but judging Darius' irked expression, I knew the recalcitrant Sin wasn't above breaking a few bones for sport.

"Answer all my questions immediately and truthfully. Emerson threw us a briefcase. What is inside?"

Eoul pursed his swollen lips and tried to stay silent, but the words rushed from him like air being deflated from a balloon. "The names of the Exordium's members." Darius nodded; I guess Eoul had told the truth if only to bluff and catch Darius off-guard. It was a hell of a gamble that did not pay off for the man.

"How many?"

"Thirty-five."

Darius tapped his fingers against the bottom of his chin as he considered the information. "Is that all the names?"

"Yes."

"All of them?"

"Yes!"

The Sin tilted his head from one side to the other. His usage of the Tongue of the Realm flushed his face with exertion, but Darius used the coercive language with a light, dexterous touch. For someone who was typically so maladroit in finding information, Darius handled interrogations well. "I would assume half your members are already dead, then. Why risk putting the names together and handing us that information?"

"We figured the truth would make it easier to ensnare you than a bluff. Emerson assured me you would not survive," Eoul growled as he tried again to free his hands. "I hope you killed him, the lying bastard."

"Unfortunately, no. By the time I removed your sorry carcass from the burning facility and returned, the mage had disappeared."

That was news to me. Problematic news. Would the mage make good on his threat to sic the mage syndicates on me and the Sin?

"Who in Imor Advances are the cult members?"

Air whistled through Eoul's pursed mouth, but yet again the information was unwillingly yanked from him. I knew Darius' will was almost impossible to resist. "The advertisement department."

"Why the advertisement department?"

"It was the simplest way for us to launder money."

Darius smirked as I fumed and smacked my fist against the sink. "Advertising?! Please tell me Martha's a member. Is she a member? That woman is absolutely vile!"

Eoul didn't respond, so Darius rapped him alongside the head. "Answer her as you would me."

"No. Martha is not a member of the Exordium."

"Dammit."

Darius brought Eoul's attention back to the Sin. "Why did you choose my host as your sacrifice? Why did you pick Sara Gaspard?"

"It had absolutely nothing to do with your dimwitted host." Eoul delighted in saying this information. A rude grin spread his dry lips, exposing his tobacco-stained teeth. "That woman there meant absolutely nothing to us. She was just impressionable enough and gullible enough to serve as a good lure."

"A lure?" Darius plucked the word from Eoul's brief diatribe and held it aloft before the balding wreck of a man. Eoul clammed up again, realizing he had said too much. "A lure for whom?"

Eoul said nothing, though the effort to keep himself quiet had sweat beading upon his brow. I knelt next to the Sin, curious to hear this information as well.

"I said a lure for whom, Gregor?"

Darius forced more energy into the words, and Eoul shouted in his need to divulge the answer as quickly as he could. "Her sister! Her sister. We contracted Derek as our middleman to find sacrifices. He works as a hitman for outside clients, and together we enjoyed a mutually beneficial relationship. Two birds, one stone, and all that."

At first, I didn't understand what Eoul was saying—then I gawked, horrified. Tara?! Someone—someone wanted Tara dead?!

"Ah," the Sin softly uttered as some of the color leached from his eyes. "That was why you became so silent when we asked about the money. You weren't the ones who paid Mitch—or, as you name him, Derek."

I was quiet as I stared at Eoul, then at Darius. The Exordium had killed my sister, but they weren't responsible for her death? Someone else was. Someone who wanted Tara, my beloved, easygoing, well-liked sister, dead.

"You mentioned my host was a convenient lure. Was Mitch paid to take her life as well?"

"No." Eoul glared—and abruptly spat in my face. I fell from my haunches, grimacing at the hot spit dripping across my brow. "No. In fact, Mitch's client was pissed when they learned we supposedly killed the mark's sister."

I was at a loss for words. The cult had tried to kill me for...for nothing? Just because? A bonus sacrifice?

"What's the client's name?" the Sin insisted.

"Don't know." Eoul grinned as his fat tongue probed his swollen lip. "Can honestly say I'm glad for that, now."

Darius grabbed the man's jaw. Eoul's smug expression fell as terror overcame him. "But you know something," the Sin hissed as thin cracks began to appear on his hands. Eoul couldn't see them, but he must have been able to feel the heat of the growing flames threatening to burst into creation. "What do you know?"

"A-an address!"

"Tell us the address."

Eoul did. He rattled it off twice in quick succession. I didn't have a paper or pen, obviously, so I wrote the address for a street in one of the city's neighboring hamlets, Weatherly, with lipstick on the floor. It wasn't my lipstick. It had been Tara's.

Darius was exhausted from questioning the cultist. His eyes were black again as the countenance of a pissed off Absolian began to press its alien features over the Sin's. Darius flung Eoul away from himself, and Eoul smacked his head against the tile backsplash. The CEO slumped, dazed by the blow.

Sighing, the Sin leaned on the wall at the tub's side, stretching out his long legs. I joined him, though I kept my shorter legs folded so I wouldn't touch the written address. I stared at the blurred letters and numbers until they were imprinted on the inside of my eyelids.

"Well," Darius said as he nodded toward Eoul. "What would you like me to do with him?"

I didn't look at the CEO. Instead, I stared at the yellowing bruises on my knees and the fresh scrapes on my knuckles. Then at the address again. "I don't care. But don't kill him here. Not in my house."

Sensing his end, Eoul began to squirm in earnest, opening and closing his mouth in silent objection. It seemed if he wasn't answering one of Darius' questions, the man couldn't speak. His wriggling dropped him lower, where he rubbed the blood on the side of his face over the once clean surface of my tub.

"As you wish."

Darius got to his feet and retrieved Eoul from the tub, lifting the whimpering man onto his shoulder like an ungainly sack of flour. The Sin angled himself around the lipstick mess on his way out. He paused in the hall and swiveled to find me. "Sara."

I looked up from my knees.

The Sin pointed at the smeared address. "Get changed and wait for me. We'll go as soon as I return. I have a particularly cruel fate in mind for this worm, but I will not be long."

"Okay." I returned to scrutinizing the hem of my skirt. "Be safe, Darius."

The Sin went to leave. Eoul began screaming, shouting my name as he begged for me to call off my dog. The sound was cut short with the barest whisper of displaced air, and I knew Darius was gone. I knew I'd never see Gregor Eoul again.

* * *

Amoroth was in Klau's empty employee lounge, berating a misbehaving coffee maker and its leaky carafe. The Sin did not require caffeine—no, the stimulant worked its way out of her bloodstream much, much too quickly for it to have any actual effect—but she did love the taste of it, and the memory of how the drink had once perked her tired human mind sometimes had the desired placebo influence upon the Sin.

She was bloody tired. Amoroth had not slept for two nights. Not since speaking with Gaspard in the assessor's storage.

Amoroth's frazzled mind felt the Realm ripple with someone's approach. She flung herself against the wall, gasping for breath as the carafe slipped from her hand and shattered upon the stone floor—but only Darius appeared from the Realm's brume. Well, Darius and an additional tag-along.

Amoroth exhaled. "What are you doing here?" she demanded as she laid a hand upon her chest to feel her panicked heartbeat. Her eyes landed on the fat man wailing on the older Sin's shoulder. "And what, by Kings above and below, is that maggot