The following morning, Charles was woken by a strange sound.

When his eyes fluttered open, it took him a moment to realize where he was: lying on the settee in the parlor, fully dressed from the night before. Only now, sun beams kissed his face and wove through the strands of his disheveled hair.

But the sound. Strange and off-tune and high-pitched...

He stood up and followed the noise, finding the source of the racket in the kitchen.

James and Juliette were cooking together, and making a great many things all at once: two pans of eggs were frying on the stove, various meats were roasting in the oven, cut up herbs and flowers were strewn about the counter, and a large pot of something orange was bubbling away over the fire.

It was the last item that seemed to have caught Juliette's interest, for the young mage was staring intently at the contents of the cauldron, stirring the mixture with a wooden spoon, and singing to it. And quite poorly, at that.

"Good morning?" Charles said, more of a question than a greeting.

James looked up from the eggs and smiled. "Good morning Charles! Hope we didn't wake you."

"You did, but I feel like I deserve that after last night. What are you doing?"

"Making breakfast," James said. "And Juliette's singing to a glamour potion."

The girl suddenly stopped her tune and turned to look at Charles over her shoulder. "'Morning Mister Abbot!"

"I didn't know you were versed in potion-making," Charles said.

The girl shrugged. "I'm not. I mean, I've read potion books before, but I've never tried to make anything myself. But I was curious how a non-mage could brew potions since the books always pair incantations with the recipes. So I asked James and he told me that it doesn't actually matter what you say, as long as you say something—that it doesn't have to do with magick at all but the vibrations in the air!"

Charles nodded; he remembered how excited James had been when he'd make that discovery a few years ago. "And so James told you his little secret: he likes to sing while he works."

Juliette nodded happily. "I bet that's why he makes the best potions in the city."

James blushed but didn't refute the statement. He just slid two eggs out of his pan and onto a plate.

Charles stared at the plate, his stomach churning. Although the breakfast smelled absolutely amazing, and he was pleased to see James and Juliette getting along so well, the feeling wasn't because he was hungry.

James caught his worried look. He cracked two more eggs onto the sizzling iron pan and asked, "What's on your mind?"

"A lot of things," Charles admitted as Juliette turned away to sing to the pot. "First and foremost, the way I treated you yesterday was inexcusable—"

His brother shot away his apology with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to you being a grump every few moons. That said, I'll happily accept any renumeration you'd like to provide. I've had my eyes on a set of cufflinks at the jewelers for a while now."

Charles cracked a smile. "I'll make a note of that."

James looked back to make sure Juliette was still engrossed in her task, then grabbed a dish towel and drew closer to his brother. "What else worries you?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"I guess... this conversation we're going to have today. With Lillian."

James looked confused. "I don't understand. Yesterday, all you wanted was for her to tell us what she saw."

"I know," Charles mumbled. "I just... I think I've realized that once we know the full story, we're not going to be able to turn back. Before, we had plausible deniability. Once she talks, we'll all be in this mess, including..." He tilted his head towards Juliette. "And what if Lillian tells us something so horrid that we won't be able to fix it? Or what if she doesn't know anything more than what we saw, and we're just stuck sitting around like ducks waiting to be attacked by some unknown enemy. Or what if—"

James interrupted him by placing a hand on his shoulder. "Charles, you're talking yourself in circles. However the conversation goes, we'll figure it out. You're not alone."

Charles groaned. "But that's one of the things that worries me..."

James walked over to his potion cabinet and opened the worn wooden doors. He winced at the bottles all toppled over inside and started righting them. "Wow, you left this a mess last night."

"Sorry," Charles mumbled. "I was angry."

As James tidied the cabinet, he finally plucked a tiny vial out from his collection and tossed it to his brother. Charles lifted the vial to the light, not recognizing the amber liquid inside. "What is this?"

"Tonic for the nerves. Have a sip and relax."

"Ooh." Charles' fingers hovered over the stopper, but in the end, he pressed the vial back into his brother's hands. "Sorry. I just don't think I should do that. I should probably deal with my anxieties the old-fashioned way."

"I think it's too early for bourbon."

Charles rolled his eyes, but his brother only laughed.

"I kid," James said, putting the vial back into the cupboard. "And I understand. Lillian said the same thing when I offered one to her."

Charles frowned. "When did you do that?"

"This morning. When she woke me up at 5am to check on her mother."

For a moment, Charles was alarmed that something had happened to Madame Bisset, but James brushed his concern to the side. "She's fine. Lillian was just worried because her mother still hadn't eaten—and also because she's in a new house with near perfect strangers. But she seems to trust us now—at least a little—because of the stunt you pulled last night."

"You were right, you know. Truth potions taste disgusting."

"Good. Now don't you ever tell me to slip one into my cooking again." James slid the newest eggs onto the plate. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Today is going to be fine."

"Aren't you nervous?"

"I keep myself too busy to be nervous."

Charles sighed. "Maybe that's what I should do: keep myself busy."

"That sounds like an excellent idea. Actually—thank you for offering to set the table!"

"I didn't offer—"

James held up a finger. "Renumeration, remember?"

Charles was about to protest, but James had already turned his back on him to flip some more eggs, and Juliette's singing was growing louder. And so Charles was forced to make a hasty exit with a handful of silverware in tow.

Breakfast was as jovial of an affair as could be given the circumstances. James and Juliette kept up a lively banter during most of the meal. Charles, unfortunately, found that he didn't have much to add and spent most of his time fiddling with his eggs.

Juliette took a gulp of freshly squeezed orange juice, then peered at the glass it was in. "Why are there so many cracks in this glass?"

Charles had been so out of it, he hadn't realized he had grabbed that particular set of glassware. And although Juliette was just a child, he still couldn't help but feel a touch embarrassed by them. "Sorry, I should have grabbed something different. My mind's elsewhere."

"We've had those glasses for... what, ten years?" James said, looking at Charles.

He nodded. "First glasses we could afford. Bought them back when we were first able to live in an inn after spending two months on the street."

"We dropped one one day," James explained, "and we didn't have enough money to buy a new set, so Charles went to the library, found a glass mending spell in a book, and patched it up."

"I didn't do a great job with the spell, hence the cracks," Charles said, shaking his head. "We should really buy some new glasses. They're embarrassing..."

"It's fine," Juliette said, taking another sip. "I don't mind!"

Besides that small interaction, Charles found he didn't have much to add, and he kept glancing at the staircase, as if expecting Lillian to arrive at any second. James had brought up a tray for her and her mother to have the meal in their room, and yet Charles couldn't help but wait with baited breath for her arrival. It was only at the very end of the meal, when Charles was helping clean and taking the final plate off the table, that he heard the creaking of stairs signaling the thief's arrival.

Lillian walked into the dining room looked frustrated. "I've tried everything, but she won't eat," she said, rubbing her neck. "James, do you have any potions that work through the skin? Maybe something I could rub onto her arm or stomach that would make her hungry?"

James paused from wiping down the table and shook his head. "Unfortunately the vast majority of my potions only work through the gut."

Lillian exhaled. "I don't know how I'm going to get her to eat normal food, let alone a potion."

Charles continued listening to them as he walked into the kitchen to drop off the stack of plates. He was surprised at their easy back and forth; Lillian spoke to James as if she had known him for weeks.

"I have another idea," James continued. "Does she have a hobby—something she likes to do in her free time?"

"She used to love embroidering. But her hands are so clumsy now." There was a pause, and Charles assumed Lillian was thinking. Then: "She likes to play cards. I had an old deck at one point and we'd play together at night. But between all the moves, I lost them."

"Perfect," James said. "I think we have a deck of cards around here somewhere. Maybe we can try to play a game with her later, see if it improves her spirits and her appetite."

"Okay."

Charles rejoined them in the dining room. Lillian suddenly turned to him, as if noticing him for the first time, and sighed. "We should get this over with," she muttered, taking a seat at the table.

It took Charles a moment to realize what she meant. "Oh... you want to talk... now?"

"Yes," Lillian said, looking back at the stairs. Her tone was mildly impatient. "I feel like I have bigger things to worry about."

Bigger than a child-sacrificing cult that's likely looking for you as we speak? Charles thought. But he didn't say anything out loud. Instead, he turned to Juliette, who had also taken a seat at the table.

"Umm... Juliette," he said, "why don't you run upstairs and catch up on some reading while we all talk?"

The ten-year-old paused, and Charles was surprised to see the incredulous look in her blue eyes. "Sorry, Mister Abbot. But I think I should be here. In order for me to protect you, I need to know what's going on."

Lillian's eyes widened, and Charles realized that she must have just realized that Charles had hired the child to be his bodyguard. He winced, feeling his cheeks flush with warmth. "Juliette, I meant to tell you this earlier, but you don't have to protect me anymore. You've completed the task I hired you for. So you can just... be a kid for a bit. I promise."

"Our contract doesn't expire for a full month, Mister Abbot. I'm staying right here." She clasped her hands and looked up at him, a stubborn set to her chin.

Charles looked at James who merely shrugged as he took a seat.

Charles tapped his hand on the table. Then, finally coming to terms that he was powerless to stop Juliette from listening to their conversation, he sighed and took a seat as well. "It's dark stuff we're dealing with," he warned her.

"I can handle it. I've seen things."

It would have been a funny statement coming from any other child. But the way Juliette said it, her words clipped and carefully chosen, Charles could tell that she wasn't exaggerating.

Lillian interrupted his thoughts by clearing her throat. "Listen carefully," she said. "Because I'm only going to tell you this once." And then she launched into her tale.

"It started two weeks ago. My mother and I had been staying in one of the abandoned buildings by the river. We'd been there for about a month, because it was quiet and close to the fish market. I could easily nab us food without leaving her alone for too long.

"The buildings near the dock are so close together that they're essentially connected. You can easily move between them without being spotted as long as you know the way. One evening, I was making my way through when I heard what sounded like a bunch of people gathered in one of the basements."

She paused for a moment, letting a breath out. "I was curious," she admitted, "because for the past month I hadn't seen anyone in those buildings. And I was worried that if there were a lot of people, my mother and I might be discovered. So I went to check it out. I followed the noise, snuck into the basement through a back door, and hid behind a curtain."

She looked at Charles. "I'm sure you saw some of this already, but the room was full of people—maybe 10 or 12—all wearing long black robes with hoods. I couldn't see their faces, but I could tell from their voices that there was a mix of men and women in attendance. The energy in the room was electric; they were excited about what was going to happen.

"At first I figured this was some sort of secret performance, like a mage exhibition or a group of traveling players. But then there was a hush through the crowd, and I heard... I heard a whimper."

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, and Charles, who had seen the memory, knew what was coming.

"I peered out from behind the curtain, and that's when I saw a pentagram drawn in blood in the front of the room. And the whimper was coming from a child, a little boy, probably nine or ten."

As she said this, her eyes fell to Juliette. Charles looked at the girl as well, wondering how she would react to this news. But Juliette's chin was set, her eyes fearless as she listened to Lillian's tale.

"His hands and feet were bound in thick ropes," Lillian continued. "I think they must have drugged him, because he wasn't moving. And then someone walked out onto the stage and started speaking to everyone assembled. He was saying how... how fortunate they were to have found this boy. About how his magicks were sure to be 'delicious.'" For a moment, she looked sick, pressing a hand to her mouth. "I didn't quite understand most of what they were saying, but I realized, pretty quickly, that they were intending to sacrifice the boy."

She fiddled with the gold bangle on her left wrist. "I can't quite remember what happened next. I think I was trying to get a better look at something, but my foot got caught on the drapes and I stumbled. One of the cultists in the back of the room saw me and started shouting... So that's when I ran. I knew the passages well enough that I was able to outrun them all. I found my mother, carried her out of there, and..." She shrugged, looking miserable. "That's what happened."

Charles exchanged looks with James, whose jaw was opened wide. But Charles wasn't surprised, considering what he had seen in her memory. "Thanks for sharing."

Lillian nodded.

He hesitated, then said, "When I took your memory, I saw some of what you described, but there were also moments missing. It was as if your memory was fragmented or incomplete. I've never seen anything like that before."

"I knew I needed to forget what I had seen if I had any hope of surviving," Lillian explained. "I sought out a potion maker the next day who said she could brew something that would help me forget, but it didn't work—it blocked out some things but not the rest. That's why I sought you out. I knew there was a mage in town who bought and sold memories. I was confident you could take the memory out in its entirety—and I was right."

Charles shook his head. And now we're all in this mess together. "Do you have any idea of why they wanted this boy?"

"They didn't say anything explicitly," said Lillian. "But they said he was delicious, so... I don't know if they wanted to eat him or if that was just an expression." She shook her head. "It didn't make sense and I didn't stick around to find out."

"And what about the people there? Do you have any sense of who they could be?" James asked.

Lillian hesitated, looking between Charles and James. "I can't be certain," she said slowly. "But the voices I heard all sounded pretty proper—no street slang at all. If I had to guess, these weren't lowborn folk."

"Rich people sacrificing children. Wonderful," James muttered. "Just what we need in this world."

"I haven't heard of any children going missing, though," Charles said, looking at Lillian. "Do you think this was the first time they were doing this ritual?"

Lillian shook her head. "It felt like they had done this before. I don't know how many times, but this wasn't the first."

"Where are they getting the kids from?" Juliette asked. "The streets?"

"It's possible," Lillian said. "I haven't heard anything about children going missing, but it's possible they're being discreet, or paying people off to keep things quiet. They could also be smuggling in children from out of town. Or maybe these people are corrupt enough to sacrifice their own children.... They could just claim they were sending their kid off to boarding school and no one would be the wiser."

Charles' stomach churned at the thought. Every possibility seemed worse than the one before. "Have you been back to those buildings? Do you know if they're still meeting there?"

Lillian laughed harshly. "God no. You could never pay me enough to go back there. But I doubt they'd use that place again anytime soon. They saw me. They know it's compromised. They've probably chosen a new location by now to carry out their dirty deeds."

"So we don't have any leads on where they could be or who they are," Charles murmured. "And they know they've been spotted, which means they're likely searching for you to shut you up. Maybe if I go to the docks, check out the space, I could find something they've left behind... maybe do a tracking spell to point us in the right direct—"

His words were cut short by a sudden rap on the front door.

Lillian jumped at the sound, and James sent Charles a look. "Are you expecting anyone?" he asked.

Charles shook his head, suddenly on high alert. He looked at Lillian and Juliette. "Go to your rooms. Lock yourself in. I'll see who it is."

"Sir, I should stay nearby—" Juliette started, but Charles cut her off.

"No. Go upstairs. Hide. Now."

At his command, Lillian and Juliette exchanged looks and darted up the stairs. Charles meanwhile locked eyes with his brother. "I'll get the door, you stay in the kitchen. If something happens, you can run out the back door."

"You have emergency potions in your pocket?"

"Of course."

James nodded, then withdrew to the kitchen.

Charles took a deep breath as the knock repeated, slowly walked to the front door. Could they hear us talking about them? he thought, heart pounding. Are they onto us already?

Hand in his pocket, fingers wrapped around a vial, he slowly opened the door... and let out a sigh of relief.

Standing on his doorstep was Cecilia, her fiery hair hidden by a bonnet. "Good morning, Charles," she said with a bright smile.

"Cecilia," Charles said, holding the door wider. "Come in." He looked behind her, at the carriage that was waiting out front. "Did Foote drive you over?"

"Yes. He's waiting with the horses. I just came over for a few minutes, to remind you."

"Remind me?"

She smiled. "Dessert tonight, remember?"

Charles nearly smacked himself. "Of course. The tasting... We rescheduled."

She reached up and touched his forehead, her fingers tracing his yellowed bruise. "Yes. Only now I'm the one who has to reschedule—or rather, change plans slightly. My father got some big news this morning about his charity work and he wants to celebrate. We're now hosting a dinner—and a decently large one at that. I know that throws a wrench in our dessert plans, and banquets can be quite tedious, but it'd mean a lot to him if you were there. James too."

"Uhh... Cecilia," Charles said. He had a distinct feeling that Juliette and Lillian hadn't gone to their rooms like he had requested and were instead eavesdropping from the upstairs landing. "I... I actually have some guests visiting from out of town," Charles made up. "Two cousins. They stopped by rather... unannounced."

"I didn't know you had any living family nearby?"

"Yes," Charles said with a false laugh. "It was a surprise to me too. So you see, I've been put in a bit of a predicament trying to host them."

"Have them come too!" Cecilia offered. "You know my father won't mind. The more the merrier to celebrate the news with."

"I really don't want to impose—"

"Nonsense. It will be fine. Plus, you owe me." She looked at his forehead pointedly. "You can't ask for a rain check twice in a row."

Charles struggled to come up with another excuse, but fell short. So instead he just nodded. "Okay. We'll be there."

Cecilia's features brightened, and with it, Charles felt a rise of warmth in his chest. She leaned in, kissed him softly on the lips, and said, "It's settled then. Tonight. 6pm. Wear the burgundy suit—you look so good in that one."

"Mmmh," Charles said.

"I will see you tonight, my love. I look forward to meeting your cousins." And with that, she was gone.