“Meeting her does tend to affect one in profound ways.”
“Very true.” Aradel hesitated on the steps, turning as if he longed to return up above. He held himself back. “The question I had earlier remains. We’ve got an immortal killer out there, potentially trying to overthrow the government. How in Preservation do we fight something like that?”
“You don’t,” Marasi said. “Lord Waxillium will handle the kandra. We should focus on keeping the city from exploding.”
Aradel nodded. “I want you to do something for me.”
“Sir?” They still stood in the stairwell, lit by a solitary electric light above them.
“You mention Lord Ladrian,” Aradel said. “He seems to trust you, Lieutenant.”
“We have become good friends over the last year.”
“He’s a wildcard, Lieutenant,” Aradel said. “I appreciate the work he does, but his methods … let’s just say I wouldn’t mind having a little more information on what he’s doing and when.”
“You’re asking me to spy on him.”
Aradel shrugged. Another man might have been embarrassed to be confronted with it so bluntly, but he didn’t seem so. “I won’t lie to you, Colms. I think you can be a resource for this department in more ways than one. It’s my job to see that the law in this octant is served, and I’ll feel a hell of a lot better if I know what Lord Ladrian is doing. If only so I can get the proper warrants—and if necessary, apologies—ready.”
“I see,” Marasi said.
Aradel waited for something more. She could practically hear the implication. You’re a constable, Lieutenant. This is your job. Do as you are assigned.
“You could just ask him,” she said. “He’s been deputized. He is technically under your jurisdiction.”
“And you don’t think I’ve tried? He always promises a report. If I’m lucky, that consists of a letter telling me where he left a suspect hanging by his ankles—do you remember that one?—or a quick rundown at a party of something he’s hunting, if only so he can ask me for the loan of some resources. I don’t mean to turn you into his chaperone, but honestly, a little more information would be wonderful.”
Marasi sighed. “I’ll write you a weekly report. More frequently if an investigation is ongoing, as it is now. But I will inform him that I’m doing so.”
“Great. Fantastic.” Aradel started down the stairs again, stepping quickly and speaking almost as fast. “Get to the governor’s place and tell him I need an executive order for martial law tonight so I can clear the pubs. Suggest he send one to each of the octants. Then check in on your friend Ladrian and tell me anything he’s learned about this immortal who thinks she can bring down our city.”
He reached the floor below and strode out into the main chamber, shouting for a report on the number of constables they’d been able to call up for duty this night. Marasi followed more slowly, legs feeling like they bore hundred-pound bracers.
You can be a resource for this department in more ways than one.…
She reached the ground floor and walked out the precinct’s back door. She’d always known that her involvement with Waxillium had helped her obtain this job. If she hadn’t joined his hunt for Miles Hundredlives, she’d never have gained enough notability. That said, she’d assumed her understanding of historical crime rates, her letters of recommendation, and her interview had been more important.
Was that even the case? Had Aradel given her the job instead of someone like Reddi because she knew Waxillium? Did her studies even matter?
She settled with her back against the wall, waiting for MeLaan. Rusts … did everything always have to be about Waxillium? Of course, thinking that made her feel like a child, jealous that someone else had more blocks than she did.
MeLaan strolled into the alleyway a short time later, disturbing the mists. “Well?” MeLaan asked. “How did I do?”
“We shall aid thee in thy desperation?” Marasi asked.
“Hey, it’s what he expected.”
“Not what I expected.”
MeLaan sniffed. “I can be divine when I need to be. I’ve had a long time to practice.”
“Then why don’t you use the act around me and the others?”
“Who says this isn’t the act?” MeLaan said. She met Marasi’s eyes. “Perhaps my duty as one of Harmony’s servants is to show people what they need to see, whatever will bring them the most peace.”
Marasi felt cold, suddenly, a shiver running through her. Not at the words, but at the look in MeLaan’s eyes, which had faded to a faint translucence. As