Vixen © March 2024 E. C. Hibbs
No rays from the holy Heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently--
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free--
Up domes—up spires—up kingly halls--
Up fanes—up Babylon-like walls--
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers--
Up many and many a marvellous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently--
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free--
Up domes—up spires—up kingly halls--
Up fanes—up Babylon-like walls--
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers--
Up many and many a marvellous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
8 years before...
Melissa strode down the corridor to her office, her cap under her arm. Her pistol swung from one side of her belt, and her knife from the other. She made sure to bring her feet down firmer than normal, so the sound of her boot heels bounced off the walls. She wanted the men to know she was coming.
She opened the door, and stood there for a moment, taking in the scene. Three officers were sitting in chairs before her desk: their wrists tied to the arms, their ankles to the legs. A couple of other officers stood in the corners, waiting to pounce as soon as she gave the order.
But Melissa didn’t say anything. She just walked across the room, pulled a cigarette from her vesper case, and lit it.
The men glared at her. One was her age, in his early twenties; the other two were older, hardened by years of work on the streets. But what truly united them was their uniform — the same dark blue which Melissa wore, with the same red circle on the left breast — and the bruises covering their faces.
The sight of those brought a smile to Melissa’s lips.
“You look rather sore, gentlemen,” she said. “No, wait. I should refrain from addressing you as such, shouldn’t I? No gentlemen would partake in the behaviour I saw last night.”
“Any man would, you bitch,” the younger one spat. “She was nothing! Who would care if she gave us a bit of fun?”
“I’m sure she would,” Melissa snarled. “As I would have. And you bear the evidence of what happens when you try to force me.”
She leant back against the rim of her desk, sucked in a lungful of smoke, and blew it out through her nose.
“So, since I am not only a witness to this, but also your Chief Officer,” she said, raising her voice a little, “let’s address this formally. I find three of my officers — Circulus officers, no less — attempting to assault an innocent woman. First, I order you to cease. You ignore that order. And when I intervene, you attempt to do the same to me. To… How did you phrase it? Put me in my place? The place which, need I remind you, outranks all of you combined?”
One of the older men spat at her feet. “You are not my Chief Officer. You just had bloody luck on your side.”
Melissa smirked, motioning to his split lip. “Bloody luck, indeed.”
The man growled in frustration, testing the ropes around his wrists, but they held firm. Melissa had given clear instructions that they were to be tied well. They needed to be, for what she had planned.
“I’m afraid luck cannot be said for your situation now. So let’s start with the lighter part of your punishment, shall we?”
The third man snorted. “As if you think we’ll listen to you, Vixen? How many times did you slip into Chief Charrington’s bed to make him call you successor?”
Melissa didn’t drop her smile for a moment. If they sought to insult her, they would have to do better than spitting out her nickname like a bullet. Unlike them, she had never seen it in a derogatory light.
“As I was saying,” she continued, “you will be stripped of duty for a month. You’ll be useless to me for at least that long, anyway. You’ll need time to recover.”
“Recover?” the second officer scoffed. “From what? A couple of bruises?”
Melissa looked straight at him. “Believe me, bruises will be the last thing on your mind.”
She drew in another drag of her cigarette, then rested it on an ashtray, and unsheathed her knife.
“I find it very disturbing that anyone under me isn’t able to control their hands,” Melissa said. “We do, of course, need those for other, more important things, don’t we? So I’m going to make it a little easier for you. You can keep your hands. But you’ll certainly need to invest in prosthetics of other kinds.”
She glanced up, at the officers in the corners, and nodded. At once, they sprang forwards, and held the men by their shoulders. And without so much as a grimace, Melissa slammed the length of her blade across the knuckles of the youngest one. His blood splattered her jacket, and his fingers fell to the floor.
The other men stared in horror. But before any of them could react further, Melissa repeated the action, one by one. She felt the metal popping the bones apart; slicing through the flesh like butter. She had ensured the blade was specially sharpened, just for this.
The mens’ cries rang in her ears; the chair legs scraped as they struggled and writhed. Not once did she hesitate. Within seconds, three sets of fingers lay at her feet.
The men whimpered and shook, staring at their hands. The only digits left untouched were their thumbs.
Melissa held the knife under the third man’s chin. He gaped at her in terror.
“Like it or not,” she snarled. “I am your Chief Officer now. If I say jump, you ask how high. If I say you’re stripped of duty, you count your blessings. And you will never disrespect me again. Do I make myself clear?”
His cheeks turned pale. “Y-yes, Madam Spectre.”
Melissa nodded once, and glared at the other two.
“Yes, Madam Spectre,” they muttered, their voices thin with pain.
“Very well, then,” she said.
She laid her knife on the desk, placed the cigarette between her teeth, and picked up three fingers from the floor. From each, she removed a ruby ring, and slipped them into the mens’ breast pockets.
“You’ll still be needing those,” she said. “After all, I am not the only one who demands your loyalty.”
She turned her eyes on the other officers. They had known what was coming, yet even they looked stunned. Melissa knew why. She had proven herself, rising through the ranks with furious speed, becoming the youngest — and first female — Chief Officer in the City’s history. But she was still young, still a female, in the most dangerous and male-dominated place. She was the opposite of every pretty little girl they had seen, and now, they truly saw just how much.
“Get these three to the infirmary,” she ordered. “And ensure everyone knows about this. Not just the Circulus, but the regular Constabulary as well. I don’t want a single officer doubting what I expect from them.”
She opened the door, and stood there for a moment, taking in the scene. Three officers were sitting in chairs before her desk: their wrists tied to the arms, their ankles to the legs. A couple of other officers stood in the corners, waiting to pounce as soon as she gave the order.
But Melissa didn’t say anything. She just walked across the room, pulled a cigarette from her vesper case, and lit it.
The men glared at her. One was her age, in his early twenties; the other two were older, hardened by years of work on the streets. But what truly united them was their uniform — the same dark blue which Melissa wore, with the same red circle on the left breast — and the bruises covering their faces.
The sight of those brought a smile to Melissa’s lips.
“You look rather sore, gentlemen,” she said. “No, wait. I should refrain from addressing you as such, shouldn’t I? No gentlemen would partake in the behaviour I saw last night.”
“Any man would, you bitch,” the younger one spat. “She was nothing! Who would care if she gave us a bit of fun?”
“I’m sure she would,” Melissa snarled. “As I would have. And you bear the evidence of what happens when you try to force me.”
She leant back against the rim of her desk, sucked in a lungful of smoke, and blew it out through her nose.
“So, since I am not only a witness to this, but also your Chief Officer,” she said, raising her voice a little, “let’s address this formally. I find three of my officers — Circulus officers, no less — attempting to assault an innocent woman. First, I order you to cease. You ignore that order. And when I intervene, you attempt to do the same to me. To… How did you phrase it? Put me in my place? The place which, need I remind you, outranks all of you combined?”
One of the older men spat at her feet. “You are not my Chief Officer. You just had bloody luck on your side.”
Melissa smirked, motioning to his split lip. “Bloody luck, indeed.”
The man growled in frustration, testing the ropes around his wrists, but they held firm. Melissa had given clear instructions that they were to be tied well. They needed to be, for what she had planned.
“I’m afraid luck cannot be said for your situation now. So let’s start with the lighter part of your punishment, shall we?”
The third man snorted. “As if you think we’ll listen to you, Vixen? How many times did you slip into Chief Charrington’s bed to make him call you successor?”
Melissa didn’t drop her smile for a moment. If they sought to insult her, they would have to do better than spitting out her nickname like a bullet. Unlike them, she had never seen it in a derogatory light.
“As I was saying,” she continued, “you will be stripped of duty for a month. You’ll be useless to me for at least that long, anyway. You’ll need time to recover.”
“Recover?” the second officer scoffed. “From what? A couple of bruises?”
Melissa looked straight at him. “Believe me, bruises will be the last thing on your mind.”
She drew in another drag of her cigarette, then rested it on an ashtray, and unsheathed her knife.
“I find it very disturbing that anyone under me isn’t able to control their hands,” Melissa said. “We do, of course, need those for other, more important things, don’t we? So I’m going to make it a little easier for you. You can keep your hands. But you’ll certainly need to invest in prosthetics of other kinds.”
She glanced up, at the officers in the corners, and nodded. At once, they sprang forwards, and held the men by their shoulders. And without so much as a grimace, Melissa slammed the length of her blade across the knuckles of the youngest one. His blood splattered her jacket, and his fingers fell to the floor.
The other men stared in horror. But before any of them could react further, Melissa repeated the action, one by one. She felt the metal popping the bones apart; slicing through the flesh like butter. She had ensured the blade was specially sharpened, just for this.
The mens’ cries rang in her ears; the chair legs scraped as they struggled and writhed. Not once did she hesitate. Within seconds, three sets of fingers lay at her feet.
The men whimpered and shook, staring at their hands. The only digits left untouched were their thumbs.
Melissa held the knife under the third man’s chin. He gaped at her in terror.
“Like it or not,” she snarled. “I am your Chief Officer now. If I say jump, you ask how high. If I say you’re stripped of duty, you count your blessings. And you will never disrespect me again. Do I make myself clear?”
His cheeks turned pale. “Y-yes, Madam Spectre.”
Melissa nodded once, and glared at the other two.
“Yes, Madam Spectre,” they muttered, their voices thin with pain.
“Very well, then,” she said.
She laid her knife on the desk, placed the cigarette between her teeth, and picked up three fingers from the floor. From each, she removed a ruby ring, and slipped them into the mens’ breast pockets.
“You’ll still be needing those,” she said. “After all, I am not the only one who demands your loyalty.”
She turned her eyes on the other officers. They had known what was coming, yet even they looked stunned. Melissa knew why. She had proven herself, rising through the ranks with furious speed, becoming the youngest — and first female — Chief Officer in the City’s history. But she was still young, still a female, in the most dangerous and male-dominated place. She was the opposite of every pretty little girl they had seen, and now, they truly saw just how much.
“Get these three to the infirmary,” she ordered. “And ensure everyone knows about this. Not just the Circulus, but the regular Constabulary as well. I don’t want a single officer doubting what I expect from them.”
*
The Tower clock struck twelve. It was far away, but the tolls still reached Melissa’s ears as the carriage bore her higher and higher. She sat stiffly, her long black hair pulled into a bun and powdered until it was grey. That, she could bear, but she looked with disdain upon the sleeves of her jacket. It was the same shade of dark blue as her everyday one, but longer, with a fancy lace trim around the hem and cuffs.
At best, it was frivolous; at worst, it was dangerous. The more fabric one wore, the more difficult it could be to move. She had learned that the hard way, and it was why, even when lunching with the Potentate, she refused to wear a dress.
At least she still had her belt. It was concealed beneath the jacket, but she refused to go anywhere without weapons.
She had learned how to handle them early. As a child, in the cesspit of an East Quarter orphanage, she had carried a sharp metal shard in her apron, to frighten off the boys who tried to steal her food. She had imagined herself keeping it through the years, for when she was older. All the girls had been forced into the local brothels, and she knew the same fate awaited her. Perhaps, if she was quick, she would be able to fight her way free, before anyone could hurt her.
But that moment never came, and there was never any need for the shard. When the orphanage mistress tried to drag her away, Melissa had shoved her down a flight of stairs — so hard, her neck snapped.
Melissa remembered standing over that body, watching the life leave its eyes. At first, she had been terrified, but then a peculiar calmness descended, as though she were viewing the scene from outside herself. That body looked so small. Smaller, even, than her, and she was only ten years old. It was harmless now, and she had made it so.
Within the hour, she was running through the streets, a knapsack over her shoulder, containing a meagre loaf stolen from the orphanage kitchen. Nobody had been there to see her with the corpse. She had vanished like a ghost.
It was strange to think that was almost thirteen years ago. Thirteen years of training, policing, and carrying secrets upon secrets. She had forged her own path, and ended the paths of others along her way. Able to sneak silently through the dark crevices of Forest, she had garnered a reputation as a formidable assassin. It had ultimately been the keystone to her promotion, now overseeing the very force she had found refuge in.
Nothing could turn her stomach now; nobody could ever frighten her. She had seen the worst, and become worse still, but such was the price for the greater good.
The carriage trundled on, bouncing over cobblestones and past clusters of buildings, all leaning against each other for support. Even the rooftops sprawled close together, and despite the sun streaming down on them, the streets below relied on lighting mechanisms for anything to be seen. This was the Second Level: a prosperous area, but space was a premium. Forest was, after all, in the shape of a giant pyramid, and the greater the height, the smaller the area.
Soon, Melissa reached the private InterLevel leading to the Pavilion, and the driver connected it to a long metal chain. The entire vehicle tilted backwards as it was cranked up the dark shaft, travelling the final ascent to the highest place in the City.
After several long minutes, the grounds appeared, filled with fountains, sculptures, and winding paths of black and white stone. The Pavilion itself sat in the middle: pure white, decorated with stone vines, painted green to mimic the nature which could never grow. There wasn’t a tree in sight, nor a flower or weed. All references to plants were fake metal ones, coiling around mechanisms to disguise them, or trailing from the oriel windows like curtains. A sea of spires stretched into the sky, and if Melissa followed them with her eyes, she saw the Tower itself, rising through the centre of the building. The giant clock faces were only fifty feet above the roof.
She tried to imagine the Keeper standing up there, turning lever after lever, winding countless mainsprings, to ensure that everything remained running below. She had never seen him — she had no authority to go into the Tower — but her position did award her knowledge of him. Aside from the Potentate, he was the most important being: the eternal heart from which all else could beat.
Melissa stepped out of the carriage, and was led up the steps, into the Pavilion foyer. She had been here before, but all the same, she would never not appreciate the beauty. This was the place where the Carter family had overseen the City of Forest for almost three centuries. Everywhere she looked, she saw history and opulence: mirrored walls to catch the light; portraits in gilt frames; vases of scented paper flowers; chandeliers dripping in diamonds.
It was a riot of colour and detail, but scattered among it were objects which truly showed prestige. Here and there stood wooden furniture: tables, chairs and chests, carved into the most intricate designs. And atop them: green. The paper flowers were inked with it; the cushions were embroidered with it. Green was the colour of power. Its pigment was notoriously expensive to produce, and it was the colour of the trees which had once flourished. As for the wood, that could only be specially grown, under artificial suns, for those who could pay for it.
There was no wilderness left anymore, but that was the price of progress. And if progress held no weight, then Melissa knew she wouldn’t be walking these halls, with her life turned around, and finally able to enjoy it as much as possible. There were, she reasoned, far worse prices to pay.
She was shown to the dining room, and the butler announced her before she stepped through the door. At once, Potentate Carter sprang forward to greet her.
“Good evening, Sir,” Melissa said.
“And to you, Madam Spectre,” he replied. “You look lovely. Please, come and sit.”
He guided her to the table, and indicated that she was to sit opposite him. The honour of being seated in such a place wasn’t lost on Melissa. She lowered her head in respect, but still took care to acknowledge the young couple either side of her: Daniel on the left, and Elisabeth on the right.
Sitting there in a huge pastel dress, her hair concealed beneath an intricate wig, Elisabeth reminded Melissa of a decorated cake. The two of them were the same age, but Elisabeth looked much younger. There was a mousy meekness to her features, but a strange kind of quiet intelligence in her eyes.
Then Melissa glanced at Daniel. He had grown into the spitting image of his father: tall, toned, perfectly suited to the lush tailored clothes which hugged his frame. He held himself firmly, with his back straight and his lips pinched into the tinest inoffensive smile.
He turned his eyes on her. There was an element of his father there, too. They were leafy green, with a sharpness deep within them. They reminded Melissa of absinthe: expensive, delectable, beautiful, but all too able to endanger.
It called to her like a song, yet she was careful never to answer. Not even in her fantasies.
“It’s a pleasure to have your company today, Madam Spectre,” the Potentate said. “How are you finding your new position?”
Melissa smiled. “Educational.”
“For yourself, or your officers?”
“Both.”
The Potentate chuckled. “I did hear about the… incident. I’m glad you weren’t harmed.”
“It will take much more than three reprobates to harm me, Sir,” Melissa said. “And please don’t worry about the men in question. They have been disciplined accordingly.”
“Yes. So I understand,” the Potentate said, not looking away from her. “Well, it’s not my place to dictate to you how you should conduct the police. They are yours. We can hardly maintain the necessary controls when our own law enforcement feels it can do as it pleases. Things have become far too lax in recent years. I really think you shall be a breath of fresh air, indeed.”
“You’re too kind,” Melissa said. “And although I am now the Chief Officer, my original skills remain sharp. Give me the order against any threat, and I will gladly give you their head.”
Elisabeth squirmed in her seat. “May we please… well… talk on other matters?”
Daniel reached across the table and patted her hand, but it was a superficial motion, as though he wasn’t paying much attention.
Silence fell as the soup course was brought out. Melissa glanced down at it: tomato, with a sprinkling of herbs on the top. She inhaled deeply. It might be simple at first glance, but this kind of food had been the stuff of dreams when she was younger. Even now, when she was no longer living on the streets, the idea that it was only the first course would never be lost on her.
“Actually,” the Potentate said, “I invited you here for more than to congratulate you, Madam Spectre. It seems we’ve had another disturbance in Faunatown.”
Melissa nodded. “I’m aware. It’s under control. I’ve already dispatched officers.”
“I would like you to do more than that. The lunafauna have always given us grief, but it seems that lately, Lady Feline is partaking in her vices a little more than normal.”
Daniel cocked an eyebrow. “More than normal? She’s always drunk.”
“Not always,” the Potentate said. “If she is incapable of keeping the fleabags under control, then I want you to do something about it, Madam Spectre. I know they won’t take kindly to a human in their area, but needs must.”
“Of course,” Melissa agreed. “But, begging your pardon, I think there might be a better way to manage this, than by simply using force. If you raise their taxes, it will hit them where it truly hurts. And if there are any more troubles, I’ll be more than happy to tread on a few tails.”
“You’ll only raise their taxes?” Elisabeth asked pointedly.
“They’re the only ones causing trouble, my dear girl,” the Potentate said. “It’s a good point.”
Elisabeth sipped her wine. “But won’t that victimise them all the more?”
“They aren’t victims,” Daniel said sternly. “They are the ones who are causing the trouble in the first place.”
“But you can’t raise taxes without good reason,” Elisabeth protested. “They will hate you for it!”
“The lunafauna already hate us,” the Potentate said, with a flippant wave of his hand. “They always have, and always will. But if you insist on a reason, I’m sure we can put it towards your anniversary celebrations. Daniel, what say you to a party?”
Daniel licked his lips. “Very well.” He glanced at Melissa. “And you would be very welcome to attend it, Madam Spectre. The Chief Inspector is always present on Presentation Days, so I think this is just as apt.”
“Yes,” intoned the Potentate, “if only we also had a Presentation Day to look forward to.”
He shot an icy glance at his son, and then at Elisabeth.
“We have time,” Daniel muttered, a slight red tinge in his cheeks.
Melissa quickly dipped her spoon into the soup. Daniel and Elisabeth had been married for almost three years, and the Potentate had made no secret of his impatience for a grandchild. However, after all this time, there had been nothing.
Daniel shot a glance at Melissa. She kept her composure, but behind her ribs, her heart thrummed.
His eyes really were stunning. They were the first thing she had noticed about him, when she had been inducted into the Parliamentary’s secret society: the Cor Aeternum. She bore the mark of it, not only in the red circle of her jacket, but also the ruby ring on her finger. The Potentate wore one too, and Daniel. Both of them had been there to swear her in; had looked on as she promised to uphold the City’s deepest secrets and maintain the status quo.
And then, just a few months later, she had looked on, during a ceremony of a different kind. She had stood sentinel during Daniel and Elisabeth’s wedding, helping to protect the Pavilion as the young heirs were bound together. She and Elisabeth were only sixteen at the time, and Melissa had felt a shred of pity for the girl. The concept of marriage, of being forever tied to another in name and deed, was Melissa’s idea of a nightmare.
However, Melissa had quickly noticed that Daniel wasn’t thrilled with the situation, either. There was never any secret that it was an arranged union, but throughout the entire ordeal, he had looked ready to burst into tears. At every veiled opportunity, he had glanced up, straight past his bride, and into Melissa’s eyes.
That night, her dreams had been filled with him. It was impossible, of course, and especially after she had witnessed his wedding. Yet it had never truly left her: the way he had always gazed at her, when nobody else was looking.
Marriage might be a nightmare, but to know that kind of connection, deeper than any other, sang a curious silent tune through her bones. She had always been alone. That was how she had become so adept at her work — the work which meant she could sit in the Pavilion now.
And yet…
Melissa pushed the thoughts aside, and focused on her soup. It was beautifully smooth, stirred with fresh cream. Even the bread rolls on the side were perfect.
For a moment, she was reminded of the men she had punished; the sight of their pale, severed fingers, lying in a pool of blood. That was better. That was something familiar: a flawless, albeit gruesome, demonstration of why she was here.
A smile traced her mouth, and she washed down the soup with a sip of wine.
At best, it was frivolous; at worst, it was dangerous. The more fabric one wore, the more difficult it could be to move. She had learned that the hard way, and it was why, even when lunching with the Potentate, she refused to wear a dress.
At least she still had her belt. It was concealed beneath the jacket, but she refused to go anywhere without weapons.
She had learned how to handle them early. As a child, in the cesspit of an East Quarter orphanage, she had carried a sharp metal shard in her apron, to frighten off the boys who tried to steal her food. She had imagined herself keeping it through the years, for when she was older. All the girls had been forced into the local brothels, and she knew the same fate awaited her. Perhaps, if she was quick, she would be able to fight her way free, before anyone could hurt her.
But that moment never came, and there was never any need for the shard. When the orphanage mistress tried to drag her away, Melissa had shoved her down a flight of stairs — so hard, her neck snapped.
Melissa remembered standing over that body, watching the life leave its eyes. At first, she had been terrified, but then a peculiar calmness descended, as though she were viewing the scene from outside herself. That body looked so small. Smaller, even, than her, and she was only ten years old. It was harmless now, and she had made it so.
Within the hour, she was running through the streets, a knapsack over her shoulder, containing a meagre loaf stolen from the orphanage kitchen. Nobody had been there to see her with the corpse. She had vanished like a ghost.
It was strange to think that was almost thirteen years ago. Thirteen years of training, policing, and carrying secrets upon secrets. She had forged her own path, and ended the paths of others along her way. Able to sneak silently through the dark crevices of Forest, she had garnered a reputation as a formidable assassin. It had ultimately been the keystone to her promotion, now overseeing the very force she had found refuge in.
Nothing could turn her stomach now; nobody could ever frighten her. She had seen the worst, and become worse still, but such was the price for the greater good.
The carriage trundled on, bouncing over cobblestones and past clusters of buildings, all leaning against each other for support. Even the rooftops sprawled close together, and despite the sun streaming down on them, the streets below relied on lighting mechanisms for anything to be seen. This was the Second Level: a prosperous area, but space was a premium. Forest was, after all, in the shape of a giant pyramid, and the greater the height, the smaller the area.
Soon, Melissa reached the private InterLevel leading to the Pavilion, and the driver connected it to a long metal chain. The entire vehicle tilted backwards as it was cranked up the dark shaft, travelling the final ascent to the highest place in the City.
After several long minutes, the grounds appeared, filled with fountains, sculptures, and winding paths of black and white stone. The Pavilion itself sat in the middle: pure white, decorated with stone vines, painted green to mimic the nature which could never grow. There wasn’t a tree in sight, nor a flower or weed. All references to plants were fake metal ones, coiling around mechanisms to disguise them, or trailing from the oriel windows like curtains. A sea of spires stretched into the sky, and if Melissa followed them with her eyes, she saw the Tower itself, rising through the centre of the building. The giant clock faces were only fifty feet above the roof.
She tried to imagine the Keeper standing up there, turning lever after lever, winding countless mainsprings, to ensure that everything remained running below. She had never seen him — she had no authority to go into the Tower — but her position did award her knowledge of him. Aside from the Potentate, he was the most important being: the eternal heart from which all else could beat.
Melissa stepped out of the carriage, and was led up the steps, into the Pavilion foyer. She had been here before, but all the same, she would never not appreciate the beauty. This was the place where the Carter family had overseen the City of Forest for almost three centuries. Everywhere she looked, she saw history and opulence: mirrored walls to catch the light; portraits in gilt frames; vases of scented paper flowers; chandeliers dripping in diamonds.
It was a riot of colour and detail, but scattered among it were objects which truly showed prestige. Here and there stood wooden furniture: tables, chairs and chests, carved into the most intricate designs. And atop them: green. The paper flowers were inked with it; the cushions were embroidered with it. Green was the colour of power. Its pigment was notoriously expensive to produce, and it was the colour of the trees which had once flourished. As for the wood, that could only be specially grown, under artificial suns, for those who could pay for it.
There was no wilderness left anymore, but that was the price of progress. And if progress held no weight, then Melissa knew she wouldn’t be walking these halls, with her life turned around, and finally able to enjoy it as much as possible. There were, she reasoned, far worse prices to pay.
She was shown to the dining room, and the butler announced her before she stepped through the door. At once, Potentate Carter sprang forward to greet her.
“Good evening, Sir,” Melissa said.
“And to you, Madam Spectre,” he replied. “You look lovely. Please, come and sit.”
He guided her to the table, and indicated that she was to sit opposite him. The honour of being seated in such a place wasn’t lost on Melissa. She lowered her head in respect, but still took care to acknowledge the young couple either side of her: Daniel on the left, and Elisabeth on the right.
Sitting there in a huge pastel dress, her hair concealed beneath an intricate wig, Elisabeth reminded Melissa of a decorated cake. The two of them were the same age, but Elisabeth looked much younger. There was a mousy meekness to her features, but a strange kind of quiet intelligence in her eyes.
Then Melissa glanced at Daniel. He had grown into the spitting image of his father: tall, toned, perfectly suited to the lush tailored clothes which hugged his frame. He held himself firmly, with his back straight and his lips pinched into the tinest inoffensive smile.
He turned his eyes on her. There was an element of his father there, too. They were leafy green, with a sharpness deep within them. They reminded Melissa of absinthe: expensive, delectable, beautiful, but all too able to endanger.
It called to her like a song, yet she was careful never to answer. Not even in her fantasies.
“It’s a pleasure to have your company today, Madam Spectre,” the Potentate said. “How are you finding your new position?”
Melissa smiled. “Educational.”
“For yourself, or your officers?”
“Both.”
The Potentate chuckled. “I did hear about the… incident. I’m glad you weren’t harmed.”
“It will take much more than three reprobates to harm me, Sir,” Melissa said. “And please don’t worry about the men in question. They have been disciplined accordingly.”
“Yes. So I understand,” the Potentate said, not looking away from her. “Well, it’s not my place to dictate to you how you should conduct the police. They are yours. We can hardly maintain the necessary controls when our own law enforcement feels it can do as it pleases. Things have become far too lax in recent years. I really think you shall be a breath of fresh air, indeed.”
“You’re too kind,” Melissa said. “And although I am now the Chief Officer, my original skills remain sharp. Give me the order against any threat, and I will gladly give you their head.”
Elisabeth squirmed in her seat. “May we please… well… talk on other matters?”
Daniel reached across the table and patted her hand, but it was a superficial motion, as though he wasn’t paying much attention.
Silence fell as the soup course was brought out. Melissa glanced down at it: tomato, with a sprinkling of herbs on the top. She inhaled deeply. It might be simple at first glance, but this kind of food had been the stuff of dreams when she was younger. Even now, when she was no longer living on the streets, the idea that it was only the first course would never be lost on her.
“Actually,” the Potentate said, “I invited you here for more than to congratulate you, Madam Spectre. It seems we’ve had another disturbance in Faunatown.”
Melissa nodded. “I’m aware. It’s under control. I’ve already dispatched officers.”
“I would like you to do more than that. The lunafauna have always given us grief, but it seems that lately, Lady Feline is partaking in her vices a little more than normal.”
Daniel cocked an eyebrow. “More than normal? She’s always drunk.”
“Not always,” the Potentate said. “If she is incapable of keeping the fleabags under control, then I want you to do something about it, Madam Spectre. I know they won’t take kindly to a human in their area, but needs must.”
“Of course,” Melissa agreed. “But, begging your pardon, I think there might be a better way to manage this, than by simply using force. If you raise their taxes, it will hit them where it truly hurts. And if there are any more troubles, I’ll be more than happy to tread on a few tails.”
“You’ll only raise their taxes?” Elisabeth asked pointedly.
“They’re the only ones causing trouble, my dear girl,” the Potentate said. “It’s a good point.”
Elisabeth sipped her wine. “But won’t that victimise them all the more?”
“They aren’t victims,” Daniel said sternly. “They are the ones who are causing the trouble in the first place.”
“But you can’t raise taxes without good reason,” Elisabeth protested. “They will hate you for it!”
“The lunafauna already hate us,” the Potentate said, with a flippant wave of his hand. “They always have, and always will. But if you insist on a reason, I’m sure we can put it towards your anniversary celebrations. Daniel, what say you to a party?”
Daniel licked his lips. “Very well.” He glanced at Melissa. “And you would be very welcome to attend it, Madam Spectre. The Chief Inspector is always present on Presentation Days, so I think this is just as apt.”
“Yes,” intoned the Potentate, “if only we also had a Presentation Day to look forward to.”
He shot an icy glance at his son, and then at Elisabeth.
“We have time,” Daniel muttered, a slight red tinge in his cheeks.
Melissa quickly dipped her spoon into the soup. Daniel and Elisabeth had been married for almost three years, and the Potentate had made no secret of his impatience for a grandchild. However, after all this time, there had been nothing.
Daniel shot a glance at Melissa. She kept her composure, but behind her ribs, her heart thrummed.
His eyes really were stunning. They were the first thing she had noticed about him, when she had been inducted into the Parliamentary’s secret society: the Cor Aeternum. She bore the mark of it, not only in the red circle of her jacket, but also the ruby ring on her finger. The Potentate wore one too, and Daniel. Both of them had been there to swear her in; had looked on as she promised to uphold the City’s deepest secrets and maintain the status quo.
And then, just a few months later, she had looked on, during a ceremony of a different kind. She had stood sentinel during Daniel and Elisabeth’s wedding, helping to protect the Pavilion as the young heirs were bound together. She and Elisabeth were only sixteen at the time, and Melissa had felt a shred of pity for the girl. The concept of marriage, of being forever tied to another in name and deed, was Melissa’s idea of a nightmare.
However, Melissa had quickly noticed that Daniel wasn’t thrilled with the situation, either. There was never any secret that it was an arranged union, but throughout the entire ordeal, he had looked ready to burst into tears. At every veiled opportunity, he had glanced up, straight past his bride, and into Melissa’s eyes.
That night, her dreams had been filled with him. It was impossible, of course, and especially after she had witnessed his wedding. Yet it had never truly left her: the way he had always gazed at her, when nobody else was looking.
Marriage might be a nightmare, but to know that kind of connection, deeper than any other, sang a curious silent tune through her bones. She had always been alone. That was how she had become so adept at her work — the work which meant she could sit in the Pavilion now.
And yet…
Melissa pushed the thoughts aside, and focused on her soup. It was beautifully smooth, stirred with fresh cream. Even the bread rolls on the side were perfect.
For a moment, she was reminded of the men she had punished; the sight of their pale, severed fingers, lying in a pool of blood. That was better. That was something familiar: a flawless, albeit gruesome, demonstration of why she was here.
A smile traced her mouth, and she washed down the soup with a sip of wine.
*
By the time the lunch had concluded, with its three full courses, Melissa fancied she wouldn’t eat again for a week. The sheer amount of food still stunned her. How could anyone, highborn or not, consume such an amount every single day?
She shook her head softly as she sipped her post-dessert tea. Even that was creamy, sweetened with sugar. She would never forget the first time she had tasted sugar.
How far she had come. There were certainly those who resented her for it, but she didn’t care. Even their nickname for her raised a sneer. Vixen. Cunning, determined, focused.
However, deep down, she was as human as the rest of them. Still proud and passionate about the things she held dear, and still unable to believe that it wasn’t all a bizarre dream. This was certainly one of those days.
She thanked her hosts, and allowed them to walk her through the Pavilion hallways. The Potentate threaded her arm into his, while Daniel followed behind, with Elisabeth. Even their gaits were different: his, strong and controlled, and hers delicate, like a porcelain doll given life.
Melissa kept her eyes fixed ahead. No matter the circumstances, she hadn’t been this close to Daniel in years, and even the sound of his breath made her heart race.
They reached the foyer, and stepped out into the cool spring air. Melissa adjusted the collar of her jacket, then buttoned the front closed.
“Chilly today,” the Potentate remarked. “Thank you so much for your company, Madam Spectre. I look forward to receiving you again.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Sir,” Melissa smiled. “I bid you a good afternoon. You too, Mistress Carter, Master Carter.”
Elisabeth inclined her head, and Daniel extended a hand. Melissa shook it, the ghost of a smile on her lips. Were she any other woman, any Lady of the aristocracy, he would have kissed her fingers. But she wasn’t, and that was something she wore with as much pride as the ruby ring.
She bowed one final time. But no sooner had she bent her knees, a gunshot split the air.
She looked up, just in time to see the Potentate stagger away, a gaping hole in his chest. Blood sprayed onto Melissa’s face; all over Daniel and Elisabeth. They shrieked in horror, Daniel rushing forward to catch his father.
“No!” he cried. “No! No!”
At once, a cold mist settled over Melissa’s mind. She spun around, her eyes scanning the Pavilion grounds. In the distance, she caught the unmistakable movement of a fleeing figure.
Guards bolted towards them from all directions.
“Get them inside!” Melissa barked. “Fetch medics! I need five of you with me now! Head towards the West Quarter!”
Without waiting for acknowledgement, she sprinted away, snatching her pistol from her belt. She could just make out the figure, disappearing into the InterLevel tunnel. She tore after him, and flung herself onto the slope, sliding down as swiftly as she could manage.
“Freeze!” she shouted.
The figure ignored her. She did, however, hear a metallic clatter at the bottom of the shaft, and when she reached the lower Level, she spotted a discarded rifle in the gutter.
Of course. Nobody would have been able to shoot that far, with any degree of accuracy, with anything less. She had a mind to take the rifle, but decided against it. She had no intention of letting her mark gain that much distance.
She locked her eyes onto the figure. Already, he was fading into the streets, but Melissa kept calm, and instead turned her attention to the rooftops. There was more than one way to chase.
The five guards from the Pavilion reached the bottom of the tunnel. She quickly directed them to follow the figure, then shoved her pistol back into its holster, for just long enough to scale a nearby drainpipe. Within moments, she was on the roof. She ripped off her jacket and ran.
The tiles slid and shattered under her boots. The heavy food churned in her stomach, but she didn’t pay it any mind. She could be sick later, when this was dealt with. The most important thing was to concentrate.
Her plan was working perfectly. The little coward had heard the guards, and wasn’t paying attention. Even if she did lose sight of him, Melissa knew she could find him easily, just by following the alarmed cries of crowds as he tore through them. The middle of the day might have been good for his own visibility when he held the rifle, but it was the worst possible time to flee. Every single street was filled with people.
Melissa drew closer, and then she saw him in detail for the first time. Beneath the flap of a long coat, she spotted a tail, and on either side of his head, two floppy ears.
She ground her teeth. A lunafauna. Of course.
She readied her pistol. Then she leapt across an alley between two buildings, took aim, and squeezed the trigger.
The flintlock exploded in a burst of light. The figure crashed to the ground, yelping in pain. Melissa had hit exactly where she wanted: in the leg.
She slid down to the ground, pistol still in hand, and approached the lunafauna. Blood spilled across the cobbles around him. A pitiful whine rattled from his throat.
The crowd shied back as Melissa approached. She kicked the lunafauna over, so he was looking up at her with a pair of wide black eyes. He was a canine: in his humanoid form, but with paws instead of hands and feet, a snout, and a dusting of light brown fur over every inch of skin.
The guards appeared behind Melissa, and trained their guns on the lunafauna. He sighed in defeat, and held up his front legs.
“I did it for the greater good,” he said coldly.
“And you will regret it very much,” Melissa snarled.
She pulled off her belt, stripped the knife and holster from it, and used the leather to bind the lunafauna. Without handcuffs, it was the best she could do.
“I can manage this,” Melissa said to the guards. “Go back to the Pavilion. Make sure there aren’t any more of them, and check the Carters.”
The nearest guard hesitated. “But—”
“That’s an order,” Melissa said, venom dripping from every word. “Go back. Now.”
She wrenched the lunafauna to his feet. He roared as she moved his leg, but she ignored him, and marched him away.
“This was for us!” he shouted frantically. “Towards better things!”
“Shut your mouth!” Melissa growled.
“Piss off, you bloody—”
Melissa smacked him on the muzzle with the butt of her pistol. He whimpered with pain, but didn’t speak again, and she forced him down a twisting maze of backstreets, until she came to a manhole cover. She stomped on it until it slid back, and an officer appeared.
“What happened?” he exclaimed.
“The Potentate has been shot,” Melissa said.
“What? Is he dead?”
“I don’t know yet. Stay here.”
She threw the lunafauna into the chamber below, then followed, pausing only for long enough to seal the entrance behind her. Then she dragged him through the network of subterranean tunnels, until she reached the gaol.
She barked at two officers to accompany her, flung the canine into the smallest cell she could find, and drew her knife.
“Time to talk, fleabag,” she snapped.
“Talk,” the canine snarled. “I’m stunned you’d want to take the time to talk to me at all. Being a fleabag.”
Melissa held her blade against his sensitive nose.
“Do you really think you’re in any position to be smart with me? Why don’t I bring Lady Feline down here? You can listen to her screaming until you co-operate.”
“You can’t kill her.”
“No, but she can survive limbless, I’m sure. Do you want to put your precious Phoebe through that?”
A flash of fear shot through the lunafauna’s eyes, and Melissa forced herself not to smirk. The animals adored their drunken little leader too much to jeopardise her.
“Well, that’s a start,” Melissa said dangerously. “I don’t want to know your name. It doesn’t matter. Was Phoebe Feline involved in your little plan for the greater good?”
He shook his head. “She didn’t know a thing.”
“Are you sure?”
“I swear. I acted alone.”
“I’ll check that,” Melissa snarled. “And in your actions, what did you possibly hope to achieve? There is no coming back from this, and you know it.”
The canine bared his teeth. “Then why don’t you just kill me now and get it over with? One assassin to another?”
At that, Melissa did smirk.
“Don’t flatter yourself. How many do you count? Just the one? I’ve lost count, boy. And I was never caught.”
She dragged the knife over his throat and pressed. The canine arched his head back, unable to keep his fear in check.
“But the one which does count,” he insisted. “Alastair Carter never cared about us. They never have. Sitting there on their throne, while we scratch about in the gutter, paying for their strawberries and cream!”
The other officers muttered behind Melissa, but she ignored them.
“And you think that in doing this, you’ll make things better?” she said. “Quite the contrary, believe me. This will be the beginning of your end. Do you understand? You have stopped nothing.”
She slapped him as hard as she could. The canine cried out, and lay on the floor, shaking all over.
“Get a medic to come here and bandage his leg,” Melissa ordered as she left the cell. “And watch him around the clock. I need him alive.”
“Yes, Madam Spectre,” mumbled the closest officer. “If I may ask, Madam… what did he mean? About the Potentate?”
Melissa turned to them. “He’s been shot. I’m going back now, to find out what’s happening. You’re not to speak of this to anyone else, until I say otherwise.”
Without another word, she stormed along the corridors. Hidden behind a composed face, her blood boiled with anger. Nobody had ever assassinated a Potentate. Not once, in the entire history of the City. And to have such a crime committed in broad daylight, in the Pavilion grounds, by the lowest of the low…
She kept her eyes fixed ahead as she climbed a concealed staircase. The constant curl of the shaft was a comfort, in its way: monotonous, perfectly spaced. There was nothing to distract her, or water down her rage. She needed to hold onto it, vicious and sharp as it was, until she was certain the situation was under control.
At last, she emerged through a hidden doorway inside one of the Pavilion chambers. She had been shown the secret entrances by her predecessor, Chief Officer Charrington, and was the only member of the Circulus authorised to use them. All the same, she locked the door behind her, hurried to the nearest guard, and ordered that the other doors be secured. The last thing she wanted were more lunafauna trying to storm the First Level when she wasn’t looking.
“Where’s Master Carter?” she asked.
The guard beckoned her down the corridors. Melissa glanced at her reflection in one of the mirrors. She was streaked with dirt and blood, her hair half-fallen from its bun.
No matter. She was alive. And most importantly, so was Daniel.
She reached a door flanked by five more guards, all armed. At a single glance from her, they let her through, into a windowless room. Daniel and Elisabeth were cowering in the centre, dishevelled and terrified, but in one piece.
“Are either of you hurt?” Melissa demanded.
Daniel shook his head. His eyes locked onto her, so wide, she could see all around his irises.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“I’m fine. How’s the Potentate?”
Daniel’s face turned even paler. “He’s… He’s…”
The word trailed off into empty air, and tears rolled down his cheeks.
A stone dropped through Melissa’s stomach. The wound had been a horrific one; she had doubted that it was survivable, but now, this truly did change everything.
“Please tell me you caught the bastard,” Daniel breathed.
Melissa nodded. “He’s secure. He claims there are no others, but I’ll personally follow that up. Right now, you must stay safe. Forgive my brashness, Sir. I need you both to remain inside. Do not go near any windows.”
Daniel stared straight through her. Melissa had never seen anyone look so shaken. And Elisabeth seemed incapable of even speaking. Everything about her had crumpled in on itself. Whenever she glanced down at herself, her lip trembled at the sight of the blood on her dress.
“W-what…” Daniel stammered, then swallowed, and tried again. “What are you going to do now? To him, I mean?”
“That’s not my decision to make,” Melissa said carefully. “In matters such as that, I may only act on your order.”
Daniel hesitated. “My order?”
“Yes, Sir. You are Potentate now.”
The clocks struck the hour. The Tower boomed overhead as the bells rang.
Elisabeth sank down into a chair, clutching at her chest. Melissa, however, didn’t look away from Daniel, in case his legs folded and she would need to catch him. His hands curled into anxious fists at his sides; his breath came short and hard as he struggled to process what she had just said.
His eyes turned skyward, as though the Keeper might run down and console him, but of course, nothing happened. The Keeper would never leave the Tower for something like this.
Melissa had seen her fair share of violence, but even she shuddered. This was completely different. And not only had she witnessed it, but she was now partly responsible for whatever happened next.
However, this was what she was good at. The ability to tidy up terrible situations had been one of the reasons she had become Chief Inspector. She could do it as silently as a shadow, or make an example of it, for all to see.
So she breathed steadily, and waited on Daniel’s word.
She shook her head softly as she sipped her post-dessert tea. Even that was creamy, sweetened with sugar. She would never forget the first time she had tasted sugar.
How far she had come. There were certainly those who resented her for it, but she didn’t care. Even their nickname for her raised a sneer. Vixen. Cunning, determined, focused.
However, deep down, she was as human as the rest of them. Still proud and passionate about the things she held dear, and still unable to believe that it wasn’t all a bizarre dream. This was certainly one of those days.
She thanked her hosts, and allowed them to walk her through the Pavilion hallways. The Potentate threaded her arm into his, while Daniel followed behind, with Elisabeth. Even their gaits were different: his, strong and controlled, and hers delicate, like a porcelain doll given life.
Melissa kept her eyes fixed ahead. No matter the circumstances, she hadn’t been this close to Daniel in years, and even the sound of his breath made her heart race.
They reached the foyer, and stepped out into the cool spring air. Melissa adjusted the collar of her jacket, then buttoned the front closed.
“Chilly today,” the Potentate remarked. “Thank you so much for your company, Madam Spectre. I look forward to receiving you again.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Sir,” Melissa smiled. “I bid you a good afternoon. You too, Mistress Carter, Master Carter.”
Elisabeth inclined her head, and Daniel extended a hand. Melissa shook it, the ghost of a smile on her lips. Were she any other woman, any Lady of the aristocracy, he would have kissed her fingers. But she wasn’t, and that was something she wore with as much pride as the ruby ring.
She bowed one final time. But no sooner had she bent her knees, a gunshot split the air.
She looked up, just in time to see the Potentate stagger away, a gaping hole in his chest. Blood sprayed onto Melissa’s face; all over Daniel and Elisabeth. They shrieked in horror, Daniel rushing forward to catch his father.
“No!” he cried. “No! No!”
At once, a cold mist settled over Melissa’s mind. She spun around, her eyes scanning the Pavilion grounds. In the distance, she caught the unmistakable movement of a fleeing figure.
Guards bolted towards them from all directions.
“Get them inside!” Melissa barked. “Fetch medics! I need five of you with me now! Head towards the West Quarter!”
Without waiting for acknowledgement, she sprinted away, snatching her pistol from her belt. She could just make out the figure, disappearing into the InterLevel tunnel. She tore after him, and flung herself onto the slope, sliding down as swiftly as she could manage.
“Freeze!” she shouted.
The figure ignored her. She did, however, hear a metallic clatter at the bottom of the shaft, and when she reached the lower Level, she spotted a discarded rifle in the gutter.
Of course. Nobody would have been able to shoot that far, with any degree of accuracy, with anything less. She had a mind to take the rifle, but decided against it. She had no intention of letting her mark gain that much distance.
She locked her eyes onto the figure. Already, he was fading into the streets, but Melissa kept calm, and instead turned her attention to the rooftops. There was more than one way to chase.
The five guards from the Pavilion reached the bottom of the tunnel. She quickly directed them to follow the figure, then shoved her pistol back into its holster, for just long enough to scale a nearby drainpipe. Within moments, she was on the roof. She ripped off her jacket and ran.
The tiles slid and shattered under her boots. The heavy food churned in her stomach, but she didn’t pay it any mind. She could be sick later, when this was dealt with. The most important thing was to concentrate.
Her plan was working perfectly. The little coward had heard the guards, and wasn’t paying attention. Even if she did lose sight of him, Melissa knew she could find him easily, just by following the alarmed cries of crowds as he tore through them. The middle of the day might have been good for his own visibility when he held the rifle, but it was the worst possible time to flee. Every single street was filled with people.
Melissa drew closer, and then she saw him in detail for the first time. Beneath the flap of a long coat, she spotted a tail, and on either side of his head, two floppy ears.
She ground her teeth. A lunafauna. Of course.
She readied her pistol. Then she leapt across an alley between two buildings, took aim, and squeezed the trigger.
The flintlock exploded in a burst of light. The figure crashed to the ground, yelping in pain. Melissa had hit exactly where she wanted: in the leg.
She slid down to the ground, pistol still in hand, and approached the lunafauna. Blood spilled across the cobbles around him. A pitiful whine rattled from his throat.
The crowd shied back as Melissa approached. She kicked the lunafauna over, so he was looking up at her with a pair of wide black eyes. He was a canine: in his humanoid form, but with paws instead of hands and feet, a snout, and a dusting of light brown fur over every inch of skin.
The guards appeared behind Melissa, and trained their guns on the lunafauna. He sighed in defeat, and held up his front legs.
“I did it for the greater good,” he said coldly.
“And you will regret it very much,” Melissa snarled.
She pulled off her belt, stripped the knife and holster from it, and used the leather to bind the lunafauna. Without handcuffs, it was the best she could do.
“I can manage this,” Melissa said to the guards. “Go back to the Pavilion. Make sure there aren’t any more of them, and check the Carters.”
The nearest guard hesitated. “But—”
“That’s an order,” Melissa said, venom dripping from every word. “Go back. Now.”
She wrenched the lunafauna to his feet. He roared as she moved his leg, but she ignored him, and marched him away.
“This was for us!” he shouted frantically. “Towards better things!”
“Shut your mouth!” Melissa growled.
“Piss off, you bloody—”
Melissa smacked him on the muzzle with the butt of her pistol. He whimpered with pain, but didn’t speak again, and she forced him down a twisting maze of backstreets, until she came to a manhole cover. She stomped on it until it slid back, and an officer appeared.
“What happened?” he exclaimed.
“The Potentate has been shot,” Melissa said.
“What? Is he dead?”
“I don’t know yet. Stay here.”
She threw the lunafauna into the chamber below, then followed, pausing only for long enough to seal the entrance behind her. Then she dragged him through the network of subterranean tunnels, until she reached the gaol.
She barked at two officers to accompany her, flung the canine into the smallest cell she could find, and drew her knife.
“Time to talk, fleabag,” she snapped.
“Talk,” the canine snarled. “I’m stunned you’d want to take the time to talk to me at all. Being a fleabag.”
Melissa held her blade against his sensitive nose.
“Do you really think you’re in any position to be smart with me? Why don’t I bring Lady Feline down here? You can listen to her screaming until you co-operate.”
“You can’t kill her.”
“No, but she can survive limbless, I’m sure. Do you want to put your precious Phoebe through that?”
A flash of fear shot through the lunafauna’s eyes, and Melissa forced herself not to smirk. The animals adored their drunken little leader too much to jeopardise her.
“Well, that’s a start,” Melissa said dangerously. “I don’t want to know your name. It doesn’t matter. Was Phoebe Feline involved in your little plan for the greater good?”
He shook his head. “She didn’t know a thing.”
“Are you sure?”
“I swear. I acted alone.”
“I’ll check that,” Melissa snarled. “And in your actions, what did you possibly hope to achieve? There is no coming back from this, and you know it.”
The canine bared his teeth. “Then why don’t you just kill me now and get it over with? One assassin to another?”
At that, Melissa did smirk.
“Don’t flatter yourself. How many do you count? Just the one? I’ve lost count, boy. And I was never caught.”
She dragged the knife over his throat and pressed. The canine arched his head back, unable to keep his fear in check.
“But the one which does count,” he insisted. “Alastair Carter never cared about us. They never have. Sitting there on their throne, while we scratch about in the gutter, paying for their strawberries and cream!”
The other officers muttered behind Melissa, but she ignored them.
“And you think that in doing this, you’ll make things better?” she said. “Quite the contrary, believe me. This will be the beginning of your end. Do you understand? You have stopped nothing.”
She slapped him as hard as she could. The canine cried out, and lay on the floor, shaking all over.
“Get a medic to come here and bandage his leg,” Melissa ordered as she left the cell. “And watch him around the clock. I need him alive.”
“Yes, Madam Spectre,” mumbled the closest officer. “If I may ask, Madam… what did he mean? About the Potentate?”
Melissa turned to them. “He’s been shot. I’m going back now, to find out what’s happening. You’re not to speak of this to anyone else, until I say otherwise.”
Without another word, she stormed along the corridors. Hidden behind a composed face, her blood boiled with anger. Nobody had ever assassinated a Potentate. Not once, in the entire history of the City. And to have such a crime committed in broad daylight, in the Pavilion grounds, by the lowest of the low…
She kept her eyes fixed ahead as she climbed a concealed staircase. The constant curl of the shaft was a comfort, in its way: monotonous, perfectly spaced. There was nothing to distract her, or water down her rage. She needed to hold onto it, vicious and sharp as it was, until she was certain the situation was under control.
At last, she emerged through a hidden doorway inside one of the Pavilion chambers. She had been shown the secret entrances by her predecessor, Chief Officer Charrington, and was the only member of the Circulus authorised to use them. All the same, she locked the door behind her, hurried to the nearest guard, and ordered that the other doors be secured. The last thing she wanted were more lunafauna trying to storm the First Level when she wasn’t looking.
“Where’s Master Carter?” she asked.
The guard beckoned her down the corridors. Melissa glanced at her reflection in one of the mirrors. She was streaked with dirt and blood, her hair half-fallen from its bun.
No matter. She was alive. And most importantly, so was Daniel.
She reached a door flanked by five more guards, all armed. At a single glance from her, they let her through, into a windowless room. Daniel and Elisabeth were cowering in the centre, dishevelled and terrified, but in one piece.
“Are either of you hurt?” Melissa demanded.
Daniel shook his head. His eyes locked onto her, so wide, she could see all around his irises.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“I’m fine. How’s the Potentate?”
Daniel’s face turned even paler. “He’s… He’s…”
The word trailed off into empty air, and tears rolled down his cheeks.
A stone dropped through Melissa’s stomach. The wound had been a horrific one; she had doubted that it was survivable, but now, this truly did change everything.
“Please tell me you caught the bastard,” Daniel breathed.
Melissa nodded. “He’s secure. He claims there are no others, but I’ll personally follow that up. Right now, you must stay safe. Forgive my brashness, Sir. I need you both to remain inside. Do not go near any windows.”
Daniel stared straight through her. Melissa had never seen anyone look so shaken. And Elisabeth seemed incapable of even speaking. Everything about her had crumpled in on itself. Whenever she glanced down at herself, her lip trembled at the sight of the blood on her dress.
“W-what…” Daniel stammered, then swallowed, and tried again. “What are you going to do now? To him, I mean?”
“That’s not my decision to make,” Melissa said carefully. “In matters such as that, I may only act on your order.”
Daniel hesitated. “My order?”
“Yes, Sir. You are Potentate now.”
The clocks struck the hour. The Tower boomed overhead as the bells rang.
Elisabeth sank down into a chair, clutching at her chest. Melissa, however, didn’t look away from Daniel, in case his legs folded and she would need to catch him. His hands curled into anxious fists at his sides; his breath came short and hard as he struggled to process what she had just said.
His eyes turned skyward, as though the Keeper might run down and console him, but of course, nothing happened. The Keeper would never leave the Tower for something like this.
Melissa had seen her fair share of violence, but even she shuddered. This was completely different. And not only had she witnessed it, but she was now partly responsible for whatever happened next.
However, this was what she was good at. The ability to tidy up terrible situations had been one of the reasons she had become Chief Inspector. She could do it as silently as a shadow, or make an example of it, for all to see.
So she breathed steadily, and waited on Daniel’s word.
*
Melissa stood with her arms at her sides, her back straight, her expression like stone. Her belt of weapons hung around her waist, and a rifle was slung across her shoulders for good measure. Officers flanked her on both sides, equally armed: an unbroken wall of perfect blue uniforms. Some bore the red mark of the Circulus, with ruby rings shining on their fingers, and others were part of the regular Constabulary, called out to make up the numbers.
It didn’t matter. They were all answerable to Melissa, and they knew it.
Behind them, a raised dais had been assembled in the middle of Marius Square: the largest public space in the Second South. Traditionally, new Potentates made their first appearance on the balcony of the Pavilion’s Great North Suite, but Daniel had insisted on showing himself here. The Second Level, where his father’s killer had been apprehended, and the South Quarter: the one which contained, lower down, the sprawling ghetto of Faunatown.
It might be a break with tradition, but that was the only change which the assassination would bring. The news had spread like wildfire: headlines were plastered on every wall, bearing drawings of Alastair Carter and the canine who had shot him. Now, Daniel wanted them to see him. He intended to stand in plain sight, to send an even greater shockwave through the City.
And aside from him, Melissa was the only one who knew how strong that wave would be. She had only told her officers to prepare for it.
The Lord and Ladies of the aristocratic families were waiting on the dais, but Melissa didn’t look at them. She trained her eyes on the crowd below, stretching as far as she could see: humans of every creed and and class, dressed in the best, with wigs on their heads, waving red Carter flags in a show of support.
At the back, she noticed some lunafauna, howling and hissing in disgust. There were more of them than Melissa had expected.
“Keep watch over there,” she said to the officers beside her.
They nodded. “Yes, Madam Spectre.”
A fanfare sounded. Upon hearing it, Melissa raised her voice.
“Constabulary, attention!”
The synchronised stomp of boots filled her ears, and Melissa turned, climbing the steps at the side of the dais. At once, the officers swept in to fill the space she had left. There could be no room for error today.
She glanced at the Lords and Ladies. Compared to the crowd, they looked like dolls, surrounded by all manner of lace and ribbons; their wigs so white, they could have been sculpted from snow. Every single one of them wore two armbands: black on the left, red on the right. Mourning and celebration, side by side.
Only one of the aristocrats was out of place, in every possible way. At the very end of the line stood Lady Phoebe Feline.
Even from here, Melissa could smell the alcohol on her, but her eyes were as sharp as needles, burning with fury. She was in her humanoid form, in the old-fashioned dress which she always wore to formal gatherings, to scorn the others around her. Her scarred face was creased with disdain, and pointed ears protruded from her hair, one pierced with a ruby ring.
Her tail thrashed as Melissa drew close. She crossed her front paws over her middle, as though to prevent herself from leaping forward.
“What are you planning, Vixen?”
“Nice to see you too, Lady Feline,” Melissa replied, not looking at her. “Claws in. We’ve had enough drama from your people. But I’m glad you’re here. This must be a welcome change for you, watching a new Potentate from somewhere different.”
Before Phoebe could speak again, the fanfare blew once more, and the crowd roared as Daniel and Elisabeth stepped out. There wasn’t a delicate pastel colour in sight. Instead, both of them were dressed head to toe in black, trimmed with the brightest of red ribbons.
A tiny smirk formed on Melissa’s lips. Daniel had never looked so formidable. He knew exactly what he was doing.
When the cheering subsided, Melissa withdrew her pistol, raised it into the air, and pulled the trigger. At the sound of the shot, all the aristocrats bowed to Daniel and Elisabeth.
“I follow Potentate Carter,” they said, one by one, passing the words along the line like a children’s game. When it was Phoebe’s turn, she hesitated only for a moment, her ears swivelling against her scalp. Then, just like the others, she submitted.
“I follow Potentate Carter,” she growled. “Yet again.”
Melissa smiled. She might be a Lady, but that title was only to keep the lunafauna in check. Beneath those stupid frills and sharp tongue, she was no better than the rest of the animals.
Daniel turned his eyes on Melissa. She looked straight back as she stood in front of him, and lowered her head.
“On behalf of the Constabulary,” she said, “I follow Potentate Carter.”
Daniel didn’t move. Melissa’s mouth turned dry. How long was he going to stare at her?
At last, he motioned for a voice amplifier, and Melissa stepped down, but remained on the dais. Her work wasn’t done yet.
“Thank you all,” Daniel said, his words echoing around the square. The amplifier hid his mouth, but that didn’t matter. “The circumstances of my ascension have been terribly unfortunate, and in due course, we shall lay my father to rest. But I wish to take this moment to address the circumstances themselves. Just three days ago, I never would have expected to be standing here now. I was happily enjoying a meal with my family. And then, in a heartbeat, I was named Potentate for the first time.”
He paused, his lip trembling. Elisabeth squeezed his arm, trying to comfort him, but he didn’t pay her any attention.
“I knew it would come,” he continued. “I dreaded the moment it would. It has begun in blood and discord, and I will not have my tenure marked by further violence.”
He glanced at Phoebe, and his tone lowered. “However, I will also not have the guilty go unpunished.”
Phoebe stepped forward. “Sir—”
Melissa didn’t hear what she said. The crowd roared again as the canine was brought onto the dais, his shoulders held by two officers. Elisabeth gasped as he was forced to his knees, looking up at Daniel.
Phoebe’s pupils dilated in horror.
“No…” she gasped. “No, don’t!”
Daniel raised the amplifier again, drowning her out.
“This is the lunafauna who murdered my father. The one who scaled the walls of the First Level, with a rifle in hand, aware of exactly what he intended to do. He is the reason we are here today, not I.”
The onlookers shouted in support. The noise washed over Melissa like cold rain. She could feel their disgust and their hatred, heavy in the air.
“You can’t keep us under your boot!” the canine shouted. “We are not the problem! You are! Let justice be done though the sky falls!”
“Let him go!” Phoebe cried. “I’ve already spoken with you! Don’t do this!”
Daniel ignored her, turned his eyes on Melissa, and nodded.
It was the order she had been waiting for. Without a moment’s hesitation, she placed her pistol against the back of the lunafauna’s head. The sun caught the ring on her finger, like a drop of crystallised blood.
“Ad maius bonum,” she whispered, and took the shot.
For a moment, all Melissa heard was her own steady breathing. Then other sounds reached her: the cries from the aristocratic Ladies; the cheer of the crowd; Phoebe’s horrified shrieking. Daniel slipped an arm around Elisabeth as she trembled with shock.
“This was for the greater good,” he said to her.
Melissa glanced at the gathering. Most of the humans looked shocked, but pleased to see a punishment befitting the crime. The lunafauna at the back, however, were screaming in protest.
“Get over there,” Melissa said to the officers.
They obeyed her at once. A line of men broke from the dais and hurried into the streets, their weapons drawn in warning.
Phoebe stormed towards Daniel, but Melissa leapt between them. At once, Phoebe’s eyes snapped onto her.
“How could you?” she hissed. “I know he wasn’t innocent, but you assholes behave like this?”
“There will be none of that,” Melissa snapped, and twisted her hand, to draw Phoebe’s attention to the pistol.
Phoebe, however, only let out a dry snort.
“You’ve still got a lot to learn, Vixen, if you think you can frighten me.”
“I don’t need to frighten you, Lady Feline,” Melissa replied coldly. She raised a finger towards the crowd of lunafauna. “I would hope, after today, you know that. And you will also know to keep your people on a shorter leash, or I will do it for you.”
They glared at each other, neither blinking nor moving. Phoebe’s fur stood on end and her tail whipped back and forth. Melissa could tell she was fighting every urge to leap forward and scratch her eyes from their sockets. But instead, she let out a low growl, and backed away.
Melissa nodded once, just small enough for Phoebe to see.
“Wise decision.”
The canine’s body was dragged off the dais, leaving a trail of blood behind. Phoebe trembled with anger, but Melissa ignored her, and instead looked at the lunafauna crowd at the edge of the square. Her officers had reached them now, and were forcing them down the side streets, out of sight.
Melissa smiled, then bowed to Daniel again, and stepped down. Even with her back turned, she could feel his eyes on her.
It didn’t matter. They were all answerable to Melissa, and they knew it.
Behind them, a raised dais had been assembled in the middle of Marius Square: the largest public space in the Second South. Traditionally, new Potentates made their first appearance on the balcony of the Pavilion’s Great North Suite, but Daniel had insisted on showing himself here. The Second Level, where his father’s killer had been apprehended, and the South Quarter: the one which contained, lower down, the sprawling ghetto of Faunatown.
It might be a break with tradition, but that was the only change which the assassination would bring. The news had spread like wildfire: headlines were plastered on every wall, bearing drawings of Alastair Carter and the canine who had shot him. Now, Daniel wanted them to see him. He intended to stand in plain sight, to send an even greater shockwave through the City.
And aside from him, Melissa was the only one who knew how strong that wave would be. She had only told her officers to prepare for it.
The Lord and Ladies of the aristocratic families were waiting on the dais, but Melissa didn’t look at them. She trained her eyes on the crowd below, stretching as far as she could see: humans of every creed and and class, dressed in the best, with wigs on their heads, waving red Carter flags in a show of support.
At the back, she noticed some lunafauna, howling and hissing in disgust. There were more of them than Melissa had expected.
“Keep watch over there,” she said to the officers beside her.
They nodded. “Yes, Madam Spectre.”
A fanfare sounded. Upon hearing it, Melissa raised her voice.
“Constabulary, attention!”
The synchronised stomp of boots filled her ears, and Melissa turned, climbing the steps at the side of the dais. At once, the officers swept in to fill the space she had left. There could be no room for error today.
She glanced at the Lords and Ladies. Compared to the crowd, they looked like dolls, surrounded by all manner of lace and ribbons; their wigs so white, they could have been sculpted from snow. Every single one of them wore two armbands: black on the left, red on the right. Mourning and celebration, side by side.
Only one of the aristocrats was out of place, in every possible way. At the very end of the line stood Lady Phoebe Feline.
Even from here, Melissa could smell the alcohol on her, but her eyes were as sharp as needles, burning with fury. She was in her humanoid form, in the old-fashioned dress which she always wore to formal gatherings, to scorn the others around her. Her scarred face was creased with disdain, and pointed ears protruded from her hair, one pierced with a ruby ring.
Her tail thrashed as Melissa drew close. She crossed her front paws over her middle, as though to prevent herself from leaping forward.
“What are you planning, Vixen?”
“Nice to see you too, Lady Feline,” Melissa replied, not looking at her. “Claws in. We’ve had enough drama from your people. But I’m glad you’re here. This must be a welcome change for you, watching a new Potentate from somewhere different.”
Before Phoebe could speak again, the fanfare blew once more, and the crowd roared as Daniel and Elisabeth stepped out. There wasn’t a delicate pastel colour in sight. Instead, both of them were dressed head to toe in black, trimmed with the brightest of red ribbons.
A tiny smirk formed on Melissa’s lips. Daniel had never looked so formidable. He knew exactly what he was doing.
When the cheering subsided, Melissa withdrew her pistol, raised it into the air, and pulled the trigger. At the sound of the shot, all the aristocrats bowed to Daniel and Elisabeth.
“I follow Potentate Carter,” they said, one by one, passing the words along the line like a children’s game. When it was Phoebe’s turn, she hesitated only for a moment, her ears swivelling against her scalp. Then, just like the others, she submitted.
“I follow Potentate Carter,” she growled. “Yet again.”
Melissa smiled. She might be a Lady, but that title was only to keep the lunafauna in check. Beneath those stupid frills and sharp tongue, she was no better than the rest of the animals.
Daniel turned his eyes on Melissa. She looked straight back as she stood in front of him, and lowered her head.
“On behalf of the Constabulary,” she said, “I follow Potentate Carter.”
Daniel didn’t move. Melissa’s mouth turned dry. How long was he going to stare at her?
At last, he motioned for a voice amplifier, and Melissa stepped down, but remained on the dais. Her work wasn’t done yet.
“Thank you all,” Daniel said, his words echoing around the square. The amplifier hid his mouth, but that didn’t matter. “The circumstances of my ascension have been terribly unfortunate, and in due course, we shall lay my father to rest. But I wish to take this moment to address the circumstances themselves. Just three days ago, I never would have expected to be standing here now. I was happily enjoying a meal with my family. And then, in a heartbeat, I was named Potentate for the first time.”
He paused, his lip trembling. Elisabeth squeezed his arm, trying to comfort him, but he didn’t pay her any attention.
“I knew it would come,” he continued. “I dreaded the moment it would. It has begun in blood and discord, and I will not have my tenure marked by further violence.”
He glanced at Phoebe, and his tone lowered. “However, I will also not have the guilty go unpunished.”
Phoebe stepped forward. “Sir—”
Melissa didn’t hear what she said. The crowd roared again as the canine was brought onto the dais, his shoulders held by two officers. Elisabeth gasped as he was forced to his knees, looking up at Daniel.
Phoebe’s pupils dilated in horror.
“No…” she gasped. “No, don’t!”
Daniel raised the amplifier again, drowning her out.
“This is the lunafauna who murdered my father. The one who scaled the walls of the First Level, with a rifle in hand, aware of exactly what he intended to do. He is the reason we are here today, not I.”
The onlookers shouted in support. The noise washed over Melissa like cold rain. She could feel their disgust and their hatred, heavy in the air.
“You can’t keep us under your boot!” the canine shouted. “We are not the problem! You are! Let justice be done though the sky falls!”
“Let him go!” Phoebe cried. “I’ve already spoken with you! Don’t do this!”
Daniel ignored her, turned his eyes on Melissa, and nodded.
It was the order she had been waiting for. Without a moment’s hesitation, she placed her pistol against the back of the lunafauna’s head. The sun caught the ring on her finger, like a drop of crystallised blood.
“Ad maius bonum,” she whispered, and took the shot.
For a moment, all Melissa heard was her own steady breathing. Then other sounds reached her: the cries from the aristocratic Ladies; the cheer of the crowd; Phoebe’s horrified shrieking. Daniel slipped an arm around Elisabeth as she trembled with shock.
“This was for the greater good,” he said to her.
Melissa glanced at the gathering. Most of the humans looked shocked, but pleased to see a punishment befitting the crime. The lunafauna at the back, however, were screaming in protest.
“Get over there,” Melissa said to the officers.
They obeyed her at once. A line of men broke from the dais and hurried into the streets, their weapons drawn in warning.
Phoebe stormed towards Daniel, but Melissa leapt between them. At once, Phoebe’s eyes snapped onto her.
“How could you?” she hissed. “I know he wasn’t innocent, but you assholes behave like this?”
“There will be none of that,” Melissa snapped, and twisted her hand, to draw Phoebe’s attention to the pistol.
Phoebe, however, only let out a dry snort.
“You’ve still got a lot to learn, Vixen, if you think you can frighten me.”
“I don’t need to frighten you, Lady Feline,” Melissa replied coldly. She raised a finger towards the crowd of lunafauna. “I would hope, after today, you know that. And you will also know to keep your people on a shorter leash, or I will do it for you.”
They glared at each other, neither blinking nor moving. Phoebe’s fur stood on end and her tail whipped back and forth. Melissa could tell she was fighting every urge to leap forward and scratch her eyes from their sockets. But instead, she let out a low growl, and backed away.
Melissa nodded once, just small enough for Phoebe to see.
“Wise decision.”
The canine’s body was dragged off the dais, leaving a trail of blood behind. Phoebe trembled with anger, but Melissa ignored her, and instead looked at the lunafauna crowd at the edge of the square. Her officers had reached them now, and were forcing them down the side streets, out of sight.
Melissa smiled, then bowed to Daniel again, and stepped down. Even with her back turned, she could feel his eyes on her.
*
After the cacophony of the day, the night felt like a void. All manner of mechanisms ticked around Melissa: clocks, lighting fixtures, even the Tower far above, but none of it was enough to break through her thoughts.
She sat in one of the spare rooms in the Pavilion, carefully unpicking her braid. After the ceremony, she had been invited to dinner with Daniel and Elisabeth. It felt so strange to be sitting in the same room, at the same table, eating the same three courses, but without Alastair Carter at the head. His empty chair had lingered in everyone’s periphery, like a hole torn through the air. Daniel hadn’t been able to bring himself to sit there. Instead, he had remained in his original place, across from Elisabeth, and they had all eaten in subdued silence.
The shockwave was over. Daniel would find space for his grief as he cautiously stretched himself into his new role. Phoebe Feline would be curled up in her corner of Faunatown, licking her bruised ego with an alcohol-soaked tongue. The lunafauna would know better than to even think about taking action.
For now, at least, the status quo was upheld. The danger was passed. Melissa had done her job.
That was enough.
The Tower struck midnight. Everyone else, save for the guards, would be in bed now. It was time she rested, too.
She combed through her hair with her fingers, and began unbuttoning her shirt. But then she heard footsteps, and a knock at the door.
On instinct, she snatched her knife.
“Who’s there?” she called.
“It’s me.”
Melissa’s breath caught in her throat. Daniel.
She quickly unlocked the door, and he slipped inside, as though pursued. Melissa peered into the corridor, but there was nobody in sight.
“What’s the matter?” she hissed.
“Nothing,” Daniel replied. “I just didn’t want anyone to notice I was here.”
Melissa went to ask why, but stopped herself. He was dressed only in his shirt and trousers. He had discarded his black and red jacket, as well as his wig, revealing a full head of sleek auburn hair. She hadn’t expected it to compliment his eyes so well.
She glanced at her knife, and laid it on the nightstand, using the movement to put some distance between herself and Daniel.
“Do you always sleep with a weapon?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Not always. But old habits die hard,” Melissa replied. She turned to face him again. “Forgive me for asking, Sir, but if there’s nothing amiss, why are you here? Talking to me?”
Daniel gestured towards her, as if she had just answered her own question.
“Well, I enjoy your company, Madam Spectre. And since we’re both awake…”
“You knew I was awake, or you supposed?”
“I didn’t know. But I was walking by, and heard you moving about.”
“I see,” Melissa said carefully. “Where’s Lady Elisabeth?”
Daniel massaged the back of his neck. “Sleeping. I didn’t think she would, to be honest. She was very shaken after today.”
“And you weren’t?” Melissa asked.
Daniel sighed. “Well, hence why I’m not asleep. I… haven’t slept a full night since.”
Melissa nodded softly. “I understand. I was the same after I first witnessed death.”
“But not now?”
“No.”
“I could never do that. I admire you for it.”
Melissa’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off her.
“Admire?” she repeated. “No. We endure. It’s amazing what anyone can endure, if they must. I dare say you understand that in your own way, Sir. You did it today. You’re doing it right now.”
A mirthless smile curled Daniel’s lips. Melissa glanced at them, then back up.
“To do the right thing is always taxing,” he said, moving closer to her. “Always being watched and judged, knowing others are whispering about you. How much they doubt you and underestimate you.”
Melissa’s heart thrummed in her ears. She knew that feeling, too. The yearning to let the mask slip from her face. It was made in her perfect likeness, painted with blood and danger, and the reality of how formidable she could be. But it also hid how she was a woman in a world of others, touching but never quite joined with it.
“Well,” she said softly, “if today is any indication, nobody will be in a hurry to underestimate you.”
“Likewise,” Daniel said.
He rested a hand on the bedpost as he passed it. Melissa stood still, breathing deeply through her nose. She had never been this close to him before, alone. She couldn’t look away. His eyes held her like hooks, his pupils huge, the green irises practically shining as he passed the lamp. Its light spilled over his shoulder in a golden stream, tracing the curve of his jaw; the point where his neck disappeared under his starched collar.
“I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done,” Daniel continued. “My father was… hardly the best of men. I know that better than anyone. But he was still my father. No matter the things he did, he did them to save me. And you caught that bastard who took him from me. You oversaw all the proceedings so wonderfully. Your predecessor in this role would have insisted on a full trial.”
“Edmund Charrington was a fine man,” Melissa agreed. “But he never had to face the reality of an assassination like that. He was never an assassin himself. This is my reality.”
“Yes,” Daniel said. “You are very good at it.”
“Not good enough to prevent your father’s death in the first place.”
“And yet good enough to prevent mine. I owe you so much.”
“All the same,” Melissa said, “I apologise, Sir.”
Daniel shook his head. “Don’t.”
He stopped in front of her. Melissa’s heart rose into her throat. She tried to swallow it down, but her mouth refused to co-operate. She was rooted to the spot — by stubbornness, but by something more; something warmer and softer, creeping up her legs like water.
“Don’t what?” she asked, barely above a whisper. “Apologise?”
“Call me Sir,” Daniel replied.
He took her hand. Melissa felt her skin chafing against his: toughened by years of scaling walls and shooting guns. He had never known combat in his life. They were so different. From her first sight of Daniel, she had admired him, but it was a distant kind; safe in the knowledge that it was unattainable.
He was a Carter, destined to rule the City and marry a beautiful woman. She was a nobody, who had battled her way from the gutter to the stars. An impossibility, by its very nature.
But here he was. He had sought her, in the middle of the night, hidden from all the world. And as their eyes danced, she saw the same dark light reflected back at her.
His fingers slid to her wrist, then up her arm, to rest on her waist. His breath ran, hot and heavy, over her ear.
“Say my name, Melissa.”
“Is that an order?”
“No. But this is. Keep as quiet as you can.”
“Ah,” Melissa smiled. “We’ll see, Daniel.”
Their lips clashed together. Melissa held him as tightly as she could, snatching at his shoulders, seizing handfuls of his hair, as they both fell onto the bed. He fumbled with her shirt buttons, unfastening the first three, then drawing away for just long enough to pull the entire garment over her head. Melissa reached for his belt and ripped it out of his trousers.
Their breaths entangled as Daniel moved on top of her. He buried his face in her neck, ran his tongue over her skin, and bit. Melissa gasped. It hurt, but it was a wonderful pain. She had known much, much worse.
Distant nerves clawed at her stomach. She forced them back. It didn’t matter that this was wrong. It didn’t matter that nobody could ever know. So be it. She would carry this delicious secret, and take him deeper into herself than she had allowed anybody.
He was her equal in every way. And for the first time in Melissa’s life, here was something which felt not only right, but made for her, in all its terrible and wonderful forms.
She sat in one of the spare rooms in the Pavilion, carefully unpicking her braid. After the ceremony, she had been invited to dinner with Daniel and Elisabeth. It felt so strange to be sitting in the same room, at the same table, eating the same three courses, but without Alastair Carter at the head. His empty chair had lingered in everyone’s periphery, like a hole torn through the air. Daniel hadn’t been able to bring himself to sit there. Instead, he had remained in his original place, across from Elisabeth, and they had all eaten in subdued silence.
The shockwave was over. Daniel would find space for his grief as he cautiously stretched himself into his new role. Phoebe Feline would be curled up in her corner of Faunatown, licking her bruised ego with an alcohol-soaked tongue. The lunafauna would know better than to even think about taking action.
For now, at least, the status quo was upheld. The danger was passed. Melissa had done her job.
That was enough.
The Tower struck midnight. Everyone else, save for the guards, would be in bed now. It was time she rested, too.
She combed through her hair with her fingers, and began unbuttoning her shirt. But then she heard footsteps, and a knock at the door.
On instinct, she snatched her knife.
“Who’s there?” she called.
“It’s me.”
Melissa’s breath caught in her throat. Daniel.
She quickly unlocked the door, and he slipped inside, as though pursued. Melissa peered into the corridor, but there was nobody in sight.
“What’s the matter?” she hissed.
“Nothing,” Daniel replied. “I just didn’t want anyone to notice I was here.”
Melissa went to ask why, but stopped herself. He was dressed only in his shirt and trousers. He had discarded his black and red jacket, as well as his wig, revealing a full head of sleek auburn hair. She hadn’t expected it to compliment his eyes so well.
She glanced at her knife, and laid it on the nightstand, using the movement to put some distance between herself and Daniel.
“Do you always sleep with a weapon?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Not always. But old habits die hard,” Melissa replied. She turned to face him again. “Forgive me for asking, Sir, but if there’s nothing amiss, why are you here? Talking to me?”
Daniel gestured towards her, as if she had just answered her own question.
“Well, I enjoy your company, Madam Spectre. And since we’re both awake…”
“You knew I was awake, or you supposed?”
“I didn’t know. But I was walking by, and heard you moving about.”
“I see,” Melissa said carefully. “Where’s Lady Elisabeth?”
Daniel massaged the back of his neck. “Sleeping. I didn’t think she would, to be honest. She was very shaken after today.”
“And you weren’t?” Melissa asked.
Daniel sighed. “Well, hence why I’m not asleep. I… haven’t slept a full night since.”
Melissa nodded softly. “I understand. I was the same after I first witnessed death.”
“But not now?”
“No.”
“I could never do that. I admire you for it.”
Melissa’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off her.
“Admire?” she repeated. “No. We endure. It’s amazing what anyone can endure, if they must. I dare say you understand that in your own way, Sir. You did it today. You’re doing it right now.”
A mirthless smile curled Daniel’s lips. Melissa glanced at them, then back up.
“To do the right thing is always taxing,” he said, moving closer to her. “Always being watched and judged, knowing others are whispering about you. How much they doubt you and underestimate you.”
Melissa’s heart thrummed in her ears. She knew that feeling, too. The yearning to let the mask slip from her face. It was made in her perfect likeness, painted with blood and danger, and the reality of how formidable she could be. But it also hid how she was a woman in a world of others, touching but never quite joined with it.
“Well,” she said softly, “if today is any indication, nobody will be in a hurry to underestimate you.”
“Likewise,” Daniel said.
He rested a hand on the bedpost as he passed it. Melissa stood still, breathing deeply through her nose. She had never been this close to him before, alone. She couldn’t look away. His eyes held her like hooks, his pupils huge, the green irises practically shining as he passed the lamp. Its light spilled over his shoulder in a golden stream, tracing the curve of his jaw; the point where his neck disappeared under his starched collar.
“I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done,” Daniel continued. “My father was… hardly the best of men. I know that better than anyone. But he was still my father. No matter the things he did, he did them to save me. And you caught that bastard who took him from me. You oversaw all the proceedings so wonderfully. Your predecessor in this role would have insisted on a full trial.”
“Edmund Charrington was a fine man,” Melissa agreed. “But he never had to face the reality of an assassination like that. He was never an assassin himself. This is my reality.”
“Yes,” Daniel said. “You are very good at it.”
“Not good enough to prevent your father’s death in the first place.”
“And yet good enough to prevent mine. I owe you so much.”
“All the same,” Melissa said, “I apologise, Sir.”
Daniel shook his head. “Don’t.”
He stopped in front of her. Melissa’s heart rose into her throat. She tried to swallow it down, but her mouth refused to co-operate. She was rooted to the spot — by stubbornness, but by something more; something warmer and softer, creeping up her legs like water.
“Don’t what?” she asked, barely above a whisper. “Apologise?”
“Call me Sir,” Daniel replied.
He took her hand. Melissa felt her skin chafing against his: toughened by years of scaling walls and shooting guns. He had never known combat in his life. They were so different. From her first sight of Daniel, she had admired him, but it was a distant kind; safe in the knowledge that it was unattainable.
He was a Carter, destined to rule the City and marry a beautiful woman. She was a nobody, who had battled her way from the gutter to the stars. An impossibility, by its very nature.
But here he was. He had sought her, in the middle of the night, hidden from all the world. And as their eyes danced, she saw the same dark light reflected back at her.
His fingers slid to her wrist, then up her arm, to rest on her waist. His breath ran, hot and heavy, over her ear.
“Say my name, Melissa.”
“Is that an order?”
“No. But this is. Keep as quiet as you can.”
“Ah,” Melissa smiled. “We’ll see, Daniel.”
Their lips clashed together. Melissa held him as tightly as she could, snatching at his shoulders, seizing handfuls of his hair, as they both fell onto the bed. He fumbled with her shirt buttons, unfastening the first three, then drawing away for just long enough to pull the entire garment over her head. Melissa reached for his belt and ripped it out of his trousers.
Their breaths entangled as Daniel moved on top of her. He buried his face in her neck, ran his tongue over her skin, and bit. Melissa gasped. It hurt, but it was a wonderful pain. She had known much, much worse.
Distant nerves clawed at her stomach. She forced them back. It didn’t matter that this was wrong. It didn’t matter that nobody could ever know. So be it. She would carry this delicious secret, and take him deeper into herself than she had allowed anybody.
He was her equal in every way. And for the first time in Melissa’s life, here was something which felt not only right, but made for her, in all its terrible and wonderful forms.
Next story: Alchemy - 5 years before
GENERAL RELEASE: JUNE 4TH
MONTH-EARLY PATREON RELEASE: MAY 4TH
WEEK-EARLY NEWSLETTER RELEASE: MAY 27TH
MONTH-EARLY PATREON RELEASE: MAY 4TH
WEEK-EARLY NEWSLETTER RELEASE: MAY 27TH