What little remained of the warehouse's wall exploded in a cloud of charred cinders after one well-placed kick from Darius. Debris rained upon my head as I clamored over the foundation into the adjacent alley, and I coughed into my sleeve, squinting through the sweltering plumes as I tried to figure out which way to go.

I didn't know where we were. Police crawled over the scene like a swarm of locust, and I hadn't the vaguest idea where we'd abandoned my car. The sirens and lights continued to coruscate in every direction.

A shape approached through the smoke, and I was blinded by a headlamp. "What are you people doing here?!" demanded the uniformed firefighter. Darius' fingers formed a vice on my upper arm as he jerked me away from the man, placing his smoking palm upon firefighter's yellow helmet.

"Forget us and return," Darius snapped as he hastened into the obscurity. I had a brief glimpse of the melted handprint left on the helmet's hard casing before I chased the demon. Each breath came in choking, dusky gasps, but the floating nebula of clay-colored debris provided opportune cover for us to escape in. Twice I nearly collided with officers weaving through the smoke as they sought the arsonists, and Darius kept just ahead of me, a hazy illusion flitting through the thrashing fog.

"Darius," I rasped in a bid to slow his relentless pace. My hands stretched into the drifting haze— and I touched warm metal, yelping. My fingers slowly formed over the delineation of a twisted chain-link fence. I stepped over a curb. "Dammit, you brimstone-spitting egoist, slow down—!"

My foot descended—and kept descending. I stepped into nothingness and began to fall. My surprise came out in a rugged exhalation as my legs folded under my weight and scraped along the length of a solid, sloping embankment. I tumbled downward in an ungainly somersault, grunting as the concrete scratched my exposed skin and ripped my cardigan.

The embankment leveled out, and I landed in a sooty, swearing heap. Squinting, I peered through my singed hair to see that I'd managed to skid down a concrete causeway, and the unclean waters of the aqueduct lapped at the levee near my head, spitting cool drops onto my scraped face. Though bruised and battered, I'd fallen below the wafting smoke now and could finally draw a clean breath.

Darius stood unperturbed by the levee. His head swiveled in all directions, assessing the area, calculating unknown possibilities and strategies. One of his hands still smoldered, and the demon crouched at the aqueduct's lip, hissing as he doused his burning limb. Steam rose from the water.

Voices echoed from above, lost in the din. Darius glanced toward the blackened sky. "Hurry. This way."

We ran again, quickly traversing the slim allotment of concrete separating the embankment from the coursing river. We followed the waters north-east, climbing the sharp incline as the aqueduct rose toward Verweald Lake's vicinity, and the projects dwindled into the distance, the land beyond the government fencing became more untamed. Out of breath and bleeding, I paused at the crest of a hill to look at the valley below. Verweald was a somnolent giant, a deadly mire with flashes of fool's fire delighting in the destruction awaiting any who traversed the giant's vale. Southward, the black trails burning the sky were lightening in color as the firefighters stemmed the blaze.

"What about my car?" I asked as I kneaded the stitch in my side and turned my back on Verweald. Darius gave an irritated huff as he wrenched a new opening in the chain-link fence.

"That is hardly important. I will retrieve it later when the area is not swarming with police." He bent a panel of the fence aside. "Come."

I went. "It's going to be important when we have to return home," I muttered. A small culvert bordered the fence, forcing me to either wade through the filthy muck or jump it. I chose the latter, struggling to catch the brittle branches of a sagging pepper tree so I wouldn't topple backward into the gaping ditch.

Darius hopped over with minimal effort. It was difficult to discern the extent of his injuries in the diluted light of the gloaming hour—but for half a moment, the Sin's skin became lambent as his energy overran the night. Blood and bruises were briefly illuminated before disappearing into the dark. Darius grunted.

"Are you...all right?" I asked, unsure of how I should phrase my question. Darius was impervious to most injuries, but I had never seen him fend off a pack of sharp-toothed blood drinkers, either.

The withering glance he gave was enough to answer my inquiries.

"Get away from the aqueduct. I didn't kill all of them; one may be stupid enough to follow our trail."

"Trail?"

Darius flicked his hand toward the concrete. Confused, I looked—and found a sizable blob of blood. I didn't know if it was mine or Darius', but the splotches dwindled into the distance. Great.

We walked deeper into the scraggly wilderness neighboring Verweald Lake. This area was contiguous to the city and, if memory served, extended for a number of miles into the high desert before dissolving into the rocks and sand. It was federal land, a nature preserve, and was off-limits to civilians. Darius and I were unlikely to run across another person here.

After ten minutes of stomping through sage bushes and ducking below the untrimmed boughs of oaks, I sat on a rock and refused to budge. My side leaked, my injured nose throbbed, and my head swam with dizziness. I lowered my weight onto the rock and sat, deciding that I did not care if the demon continued off into the unknown and left me here. I simply panted and prayed I wouldn't pass out.

Darius didn't wander farther. He stopped when I did and found a thick tree to lean upon. He crossed his arms, spat ash on the undergrowth, and stared into the distance. The spotted moonlight sifting through the leaves brought into focus the multitude of slashes and puncture marks marring his clothes, his hair a briary mess of congealed liquids and flakes of char. The Sin's eyes were reptilian, hooded with hunger, fatigue, and a morass of recondite musings.

"Why couldn't I go through the Realm?" I asked, overcome with palpable guilt. Darius' plan had counted upon his ability to leap through the Realm, but he had been unable to do so with me. I couldn't exist within the Realm.

Darius shrugged. "I have not had this problem personally, but I have been told it happens with hosts who are fading." His fingers came together to tap one another in a tired, ceaseless rhythm. "To be blunt—dying. Your soul is weak. It cannot move into the Realm."

I had nothing to say in return. I was dying. Balthier's wound was killing me, injuring my very soul. What could I say to that? "You recognized the name," I said instead, breaking the idle quiet that had formed between us. "Exordium Insaniam. You've heard of them before."

Darius nodded in a gradual manner, as though he were unsure. "Yes. I have heard of them. However, your cult cannot be them."

Startled, I said, "You're saying the vampire lied to me?"

"Would it matter if he had?" The creature's answering grin was unkind. My gun was tucked into his waistband, visible only as a small protrusion under the jacket's hem. "Your lethal proclivity is a lovely surprise, by the way. However, we can't very well extort information from a dead witness."

I blanched and wrung my cardigan's dirty sleeves.

"No. I do not believe the vampire lied to you. It would be far too fortuitous for him to know the name, as lacking and uneducated as his kind are." Darius leaned off the oak tree and began to pace. The bracken cracked and smoked beneath his shoes. "This collection must be...a copy-cat?"

"Why so? Why can't they be the real Exordium?"

"Because, Verweald would have a very, very dangerous dilemma on its hands." The Sin paused at my side and sat upon the rock as well, grim-faced and irritable. "The Exordium is more mythical than anything, really, and they do not operate in Terrestria. They are from the Vale. Your cult must have discovered their legend and thought it the perfect moniker, never realizing the Exordium is—for all intents and purposes—real."

I bit the inside of my cheek as I dredged through my tired thoughts. "So...they're operating under a pseudonym, of sorts. Perhaps they aren't....established?"

Darius nodded. "I would venture that this cult is not a cult at all, but an organization playing at cabalism." The Sin rubbed his face. "An alias is a start, though it was a foolish choice on their behalf. I've told you before names have power. King's breath, the utter peril these imbeciles court by masquerading under that name...."

Exordium Insaniam. The Beginning of Madness. An apt name for a collection of killers and their sycophants. It was unfortunate my murderers couldn't even be original. Whatever information Darius or I would be able to scrounge concerning the Exordium would have to be checked against the identity of the legendary Valian cult. We would have to separate fact from myth, and there was a possibility that the cult wasn't a cult at all, but an organization pretending to be something they're not....

"Darius...." I began. The Sin's black eyes centered on mine. "Have you ever heard of the Gray Arcanum?"

"Yes. They're a syndicate in Los Angeles." His gaze narrowed. "How do you know of them? Does this have something to do with the gun I happen to know was not in your possession before today?"

"How do you know it wasn't?"

"I searched your house."

Ah, so the Sin was nosy as well as free-loading. "Oh, well, that's not—." I coughed into my hand, shifting. "Important. Is it possible they could be behind the cult?"

Darius' hand rotated in a lazy circle. "It's possible any of them are behind it. The Gray Arcanum, Blue Fire, the coven you're so fond of. But it is a potentiality. Such violent chicanery is common for the mages, as everything they do or say is with tongue-in-cheek. They are Terrestria's 'authority,' after all." The Sin hooked physical quotation marks around the word. "They are fully capable of policing the realm to uphold their moral standards while they discreetly sacrifice pretty women in the name of the evil they wish to vanquish." He spat upon the earth again.

The wind rose from the west, bringing with it the distant scent of the coast and strains of heavy smoke. I coughed again to clear my lungs, cupping my aching side. Was it possible my demise had been concocted by mages? Was my sister's death just a cog in their byzantine machinations? Was all this violence and death nothing but simple chess maneuvers to a heretofore unknown player?

My hand was sore from firing the pistol. The muscles and tendons of my wrist and arm throbbed from the powerful recoil. "I killed that vampire," I whispered, curling my fingers to form a battered fist.

"You did," Darius said, his tone casual as though I had stated the time or commented on the weather.

I unclenched the fist and stared at my palm as if it were not my own.

"You said before you would do anything to see your sister avenged." The Sin lifted my hand and turned it, displaying the knuckles I had scarred by punching the cultist. "Or was that just the typical mortal grandstanding?"

"It wasn't grandstanding." I jerked my hand back and cradled it to my chest. "I don't regret what I did. Belief and action are two separate things. I could fully believe I have the capacity to do something, and yet be unable to perform when action is required. I just...never knew I was capable of doing something like that. I didn't know I was capable of such violence."

Darius laughed. The sound of his amusement echoed in the trees and slithered the underbrush like dark, unseen snakes. Heat rose into my cheeks. For all the dangers in this world, I sometimes forgot Darius was one of the biggest threats of them all. On the outskirts of America's City of Blood, the immortal Sin of Pride lounged with me in an agrarian wood, laughing. We were covered in ash and bits of vampire, and we had left destruction in our wake.

I should have been afraid. Good little humans are supposed to be frightened of men who can eviscerate others with their bare hands. I wasn't frightened. For the first time in weeks, I felt oddly...safe.

"Ah," Darius chuckled, ruby color leaking into the ink of his eyes. He leaned back upon his arms, peering at the ugly sky. "You have sin in your soul, girl. I like that spark of malevolence in you."

I didn't think that was a compliment. "Hmph." I rose and began to dust off my shorts—before remembering I was covered in filth and a bit of greenery clinging to the seat of my pants made no difference. The Sin looked up at me, smirking. "Let's get out of here. Do you think Saule does house calls?"

There was an access road not far from the patch of trees we rested by, and I waited there alone in the brambles while the Sin "borrowed" a car, seeing as mine was still entrapped by the swelling police line. He returned with a low-slung, purring model of foreign flair. I wondered at his choice of vehicles, until I got into the passenger's seat and recognized the faint, citrusy perfume.

"This is—this is Amoroth's car," I said as Darius shifted gears with little regard to the vehicle's integrity. The Sin nodded his assent as he revved the engine and the tires dug ruts in the dirt road. I winced as pebbles pinged off the undercarriage and against the windows. One of the headlights was busted as if Darius had swerved to hit something on his drive over. God, I hoped it wasn't a pedestrian. "I am so going to be blamed for this...."

Darius drove the car like—well, he drove it like he stole it, which he had. He directed us eastward, onto the long and desolate byways that flanked the lake and the federal lands. I stared out the window toward the large, placid body of water engrossing the high edge of the valley. My right hand would occasionally open and close, forming a fist.

While attending university, I had taken a seminar on philosophy. It hadn't been one of my favorite subjects as I found the subject too ponderous and pretentious—but at this moment, as I watched the light of the moon waver upon the lake and saw my own bloody reflection in the window, I thought of a passage by Socrates that I'd skimmed through. In it, the old philosopher stated: "It is not right to return an injury, or to do evil to any man, however much we have suffered from him."

I agreed with the passage at the time, and perhaps I'd been naïve, or simply bored with the class, but I remember writing a brief paper expounding on the importance of doing unto others as you wished done unto you. I recalled certain lines of the paper where I had bluntly stated that those who inflicted injury upon others, regardless of circumstance, were evil. I now knew those ideas had been trite musings, stupid regurgitations of the human conscience.

I had killed the man—the creature—who had held my sister above that basin and allowed her life to spill from her veins. Perhaps my actions were wrong. Violence had a certain inherent cruelty to it, required a measure of malevolence in a soul, but did that make me evil? Was I evil for killing a man who had helped kill my sister and me? A man who had undoubtedly killed others and would have killed again?

Was I evil?

Darius slid the tires alongside the curb outside my house. I got out of the car and groaned at the excessive damage he had inflicted upon the poor thing. The bumper hung askew from the front, and finger-thick scratches gouged the side, while the hood buckled as if Darius had taken the opportunity to leap upon it when he first retrieved the vehicle.

"She's going to kill you," I told the Sin as I fumbled for my house keys, only to remember Darius had them.

"She can try," he said as he tossed the keys at me, they bounced off my chest. I glared as I knelt to retrieve them—which was how I managed to avoid the fist crashing through the door.

Splinters struck my face as I tumbled from the first step, skinning my palms on the concrete. Darius grabbed the wrist belonging to the balled fist and yanked—hard. The sound of splitting wood filled the night like a gunshot as my front door was cleaved down the middle. The Sin of Lust came snarling through the remnants, her eyes violet with unguarded fury.

"You absolute ass!" she shouted as the two of them collided and toppled. Darius landed on the path with enough force to shatter the bricks as Amoroth's seemingly delicate hands throttled him. "You stole my car?! People saw you! You blithering—!"

"You broke my door!" I accused, gesturing helplessly at the sagging hinges. Half of the door had landed on the lawn and the deadbolt had ripped through the frame, cracking the siding. The impetus that the woman could muster with a single punch was terrifying.

Amoroth's gaze flicked to me. Blackness swam in her irises. "You."

I backed up until I bumped the ragged frame.

The Sin of Lust took a breath, her brow furrowing. Darius took this opportunity to shove her off of himself and rise. Unperturbed by the grass stains on her cuffs, Amoroth straightened her cobalt jacket, lip curling as she took in my ragged appearance. "You look like shit."

"Thank you." I felt horrendous. Having Amoroth point out that I looked horrendous after breaking down my door was the apogee of my awful mood. "It's been an eventful night." Across the street, lights flickered in my neighbor's house, and the dog next door howled at our adjoined gate. "Can you two go inside before my neighbors call the cops? Please?"

Their strange eyes roved over the neighborhood before the two Sins obliged. I slammed what remained of the door. A piece fell to hit the floor with a clatter.

"Did you two have fun tonight?" Amoroth sneered as she perched on the sofa's arm. She jabbed a thumb toward my dusty television. It was turned on. The volume was muted, but the news broadcast was accompanied by a bolded title: Warehouse burns, arsonists at large.

"How do you know it was us?" I demanded, hands at my hips.

The woman scoffed as she crossed her arms. "Don't insult my intelligence." She waved her hand from my feet to head. "How do you even do this? I thought you were so determined to protect your host?"

The latter end of her statement was directed toward Darius. The Sin of Pride stalked the length of the living room until he could perch on the armchair. He was nearly lost in the shadows but for a bar of artificial light spilling in from the street lamps. I wondered what Amoroth had been doing inside my house. Tara's cat remained on the sofa, snoozing, and wholly unbothered by what happened around him.

Darius pressed his hands together, lowering his chin. "We were indulging in a favorite pastime of mine; disposing of worthless pieces of garbage." The stare he gave Amoroth was pointed.

"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes as she adjusted her hair. "So, you finally found the vampires? I guess I should be thankful. Eradicating them from the city's slums is always problematic." Amoroth patted her pockets, searching for her cigarettes. "Doesn't explain why you thought it was a good idea to bring the girl along."

Darius didn't move, though his head did shift with a slight tilt like a wolf's as it observes its dinner. "Essence," he stated, drawing in a light, quick breath.

"Ah."

Ah? Amoroth understood? "What does that mean?" I asked, still standing at the entrance as I was unwilling to walk past Amoroth to reach the hall. "How did you recognize the vampire without me saying a word?"

Darius grunted as he dropped his feet to the floor. He opened his mouth but Amoroth was the one who spoke up. "The soul creates mana and when mana burns it exudes essence. Like mana itself, essence carries various personalized signatures, and those signatures are affected by emotion. Sins are capable of drawing that essence into themselves and, with practice, are able to distinguish—to some degree—emotions."

"Such as recognition," Darius drawled. "It was never about whether or not you would recognize the vampire; it was about him recognizing you."

That was unexpected. I wished Darius had told me this before, then I would have stopped badgering him with my misgivings—but trust was paramount with the Sin of Pride. I should know that well by now. I kept questioning him, demanding information and results, but it had been my own miscommunication that nearly got us—well, me—killed this evening. I hadn't told him about my trouble with the Realm. If I had, the difficulties we faced tonight wouldn't have happened. I wouldn't have had to kill that vampire.

I stared at my hand, unsure of what exactly I was looking at. "Fix my door," I muttered, leaving the inimical Sins in the cold living room. I was at the bathroom's threshold when Amoroth called out.

"You'd best be at work tomorrow, Gaspard. Continued absences won't be...tolerated."

I shut the door so hard the lights flickered.

* * *