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an instant warmth toward the woman, who seemed pleasant enough—much too pleasant to be in a place like this, surrounded by so much grime and darkness, nowhere near the bounty of nature.

“You must be the little cherubs!” she cried in a crisp, clear voice. “My name is Agatha Spjut, and I am delighted to meet you all. What brings your angelic faces to my door?”

“We need your assistance, Agatha,” Demeter explained. “We’re going in search of hidden essence, and we need good minds to help us map out the prison, so we don’t keep looking over the same old ground.”

“How exquisitely adventurous of you all! I love a spot of bravado.” She grinned more widely, clapping her hands together. “Delighted to offer my help, dear ones, absolutely delighted! I might look ancient, but this mind is as sharp as any you’ll find. Are we roping in old Forcier?”

Demeter nodded. “I was just about to knock.”

With that, the professor knocked on the second door down, bringing the arrival of Demeter’s second friend, though he didn’t make quite the same first impression as the pleasant, hippie-like Agatha. In fact, at first glance he was quite alarming. The skin of his face was paper-thin, a network of blue veins running visibly beneath the pale surface, connecting from pallid lips, across sunken cheeks, and up over a high forehead into a hairline of silvery gray. The man looked startlingly emaciated, his clavicles protruding from beneath a black waistcoat, leading to a thin neck that barely looked capable of holding his head up, like the stick of a lollipop. It didn’t seem to bother him, however, as he moved fluidly from the room.

“Vincent, my darling!” cried Agatha, rushing past the others to embrace the strange figure.

“Agatha, dearest. Good day to you all—I was not expecting so many visitors. I am Vincent Forcier. It’s a pleasure to make your various acquaintances.” The man’s voice was soft, bordering on eerie, yet somehow strangely hypnotic. “Did I hear someone mention a spot of bravado?” he asked, his mouth pulled tight in what Alex presumed was meant to be a smile, but the effect was disconcerting on the man’s unnaturally pale, almost transparent skin, giving him a slightly manic look.

“We need some help finding the Kingstone essence, and Demeter has told us you’d be willing to help,” Alex explained, finding his voice.

“A remarkable task, one that I would be honored to assist with, in any way I can,” Vincent replied. “You don’t mind if I take the lead?” His impossibly large, black eyes, completely devoid of white, surveyed the group.

“Lead the way,” Alex said.

Vincent strode along with assured, knowledgeable footsteps, pointing out rooms to avoid and corridors to keep out of, due to the unsavory characters within. It was like being led by a tour guide, Alex thought wryly.

“It is truly a shame you had to be present for such a thing,” Vincent said quietly. “An awful way to begin—you must all have been so frightened. I know it passes, but still, it’s a terrible thing.”

Alex realized he was talking about the nightmare fog, though it had taken him a moment to tune in, he was so mesmerized by the lilting, soothing cadence of the words upon his tired and aching soul.

“Were it not for the recollection of feeling a little strange, I might never have known it happened. I trust it is the same for you?” Vincent asked the group.

Natalie nodded, clearly as mesmerized as Alex was. “I can hardly remember it now, and I cannot recall what I saw.”

“That is the way of these awful measures Caius has put in place—they last just long enough for us to fear and remember and never want to experience it again. The details don’t remain, but the feeling does, am I right?” Vincent asked, his piercing black eyes staring intensely into Natalie’s.

“That is exactly right. I could not have put it better myself!” she piped up.

“Even the most powerful among us fear the wrath of Caius,” Vincent admitted. “He has an inexhaustible arsenal of tricks, and I’m certain I have experienced a thousand or more in my time here. It’s what keeps us compliant. Fear is a potent weapon, when wielded correctly, and Caius is the greatest marksman I know.”

There was a bitterness to the unnatural man’s words that resonated with Alex, and, looking around, he could see that the rest of the group were just as hooked upon Vincent’s every feeling. Where Demeter’s presence made Alex feel calm, Vincent’s presence had already made him feel a whole spectrum of emotions, in a short span of time.

“What did you do? To land yourselves in prison, I mean,” asked Jari eagerly, his gaze flitting between Agatha and Vincent. It was the question Alex had been too polite to ask.

Vincent smiled his peculiar smile. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing toward Agatha.

She blushed. “Oh, no! You go first, Vincent.”

“Very well,” he acquiesced with a delicate wave of his hand. Every movement he made seemed deliberate and exquisite, like macabre cabaret. “You wish to know my story?”

The group nodded, and Alex found himself nodding too.

“Well, young ones, I am afraid to say I was placed in here for necromancy. As you no doubt know, necromancy is frowned upon among our kind,” he began, his voice like honey.

Unless you’re a noble, Alex thought, remembering what the Head had done to Malachi Grey and had been encouraged to do again with Renmark.

“I admit that I moved in shadows, and I was duly punished for it, although I sought discovery of the darkest arts for a pure purpose. My heart was in the right place, as they say. You see, I am not like other necromancers you may come across, though I hope you never meet another—the other necromancers held within these walls are here for good reason. They are cold and cruel and unnatural and should never be permitted to feel daylight upon their faces again, for the acts they have committed,” he seethed, his dark

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