It was late afternoon as Conrad strolled through Silver Hill, his sights set on Willow Lodge. Saunders had been an easy kill. Conrad didn't need to spend days trailing him. He'd already done that for years as part of his research. He found Saunders pouring over documents in his home office, completing paperwork. The butler was an unfortunate casualty, but such was the way of his job.

Bates wouldn't be so easy. As captain of the guard, he was surrounded most of the time, and lived within the palace's staff house. Of all the names he'd discovered over the years, Bates had been the trickiest. But he knew Bates's patterns, knew he got time to himself in the late afternoons, knew liked to whore around.

He snuck in the back and crept up behind Claude, glancing over his appointment book, scanning the names. Most patrons used fake names, the same fake names each time they visited. Willow Lodge was a favorite among the richer clientele and they liked to remain anonymous.

Seconds later, he found what he was looking for and disappeared, Claude none the wiser. On the second floor, he stood outside the assigned room, contemplating. He needed Chester Bates alive, but no so for Evan, who was in there with him. But Tabby liked Evan, he recalled. She'd visited him on occasion, from what he'd seen in the appointment book. While he knew it was part of the job, he hesitated. Damn. She was rubbing off on him and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He frowned.

From the pouch at his belt, he took out a two darts, one marked with red and the other marked with blue. The red one was his own concoction. A mix of khixide and stolax. One to cause a few days of amnesia and the other to temporarily paralyze. The blue he would use on Chester Bates. It merely caused paralysis. He wanted Chester's memory in tact.

He waited, listening to the sounds within, his smile growing wider, more feral, at the obvious pleasure he heard. It was almost mean. But there weren't many other options. And hadn't Tabby recently done the same? Summoning a burst of violet light, he unlocked the door. The sound was muffled against the moans now coming from within.

Blowpipe to his lips, he slipped into the dimly lit chamber, eyes quickly adjusting. Neither of the males noticed his entry, too wrapped up in each other. Chester had Evan bent over the bed, his back facing the door. The carelessness of his actions irked Conrad. And Chester called himself a Spect!

He edged around the a chaise lounge and fired. The dart stuck dead in the flesh of Chester's shoulder. His back arched. He cried out and whirled around, giving Conrad a clear shot at Evan, who gazed at the scene wide-eyed.

Chester didn't fall immediately. He lunged at Conrad. They grappled, falling to the ground. Evan just scooted away. Perhaps he should have made the darts stronger. He held Chester against the floor, counting down from ten, watching as his victim stopped struggling, then lost all movement entirely. Evan was sprawled across the bed now.

He looked about the room, then back at Chester's naked body. "You could have kept some of your clothes on, old fellow. Would have made my job easier. No matter." He wasn't about to haul a naked body about. Tabby and Midnight would meet him in the alley soon. He glanced at the clock before getting to work.

Not longer after, he had Chester's limp form over his shoulder. He took the back stairwell and emerged out into the alley, squinting into the darkness. He spotted the cart and two figures, their silhouettes stark against the light pouring into the alley from the open street beyond.

Midnight jumped from the cart to help him load Chester's limp body in the back. They covered him with a canvas. "Any trouble?"

"None at all. I'll follow behind on foot, in case anything escalates."

Midnight nodded before hopping back up onto the seat to take the reins. As they plodded back out onto the street, he followed behind, noticing the close proximity of Tabby and Midnight's bodies.

***

"Where are we going to put him?" Midnight's voice broke through Tabby's focus. She was far above in Nit's mind, soaring over Chroma's buildings, watching their cart plod along through traffic. At night, grayscale vision wasn't much different than normal vision. The glow of the gas lamps appeared as white blobs, and everything else was cast in various shades of black and gray.

"Him? Oh, Flint. The basement beneath Elias's workshop, where we used to hide things." She hesitated. "He punched me and broke my nose, you know. When they brought me in."

Midnight went still beside her, forced to recall her torture. "You want to talk about it?"

She shrugged. "Not much to talk about. They did the usual stuff. Whipped me—you saw my back. Took fingernails. Things like that." She said they because she didn't want to say Reaper's name.

"Despite all he did, you didn't shatter."

"No. Does that surprise you?"

"Yes, actually. It does," he said. She peered up at him, trying to read his expression. "The full masks you tortured. How many of them shattered?"

"All of them."

He nodded in answer. "But not you," he said and his shoulders slumped. "I shouldn't have lost control on the rooftop with the other Spects. Not in front of you like that. Not after—"

"You already apologized for it." She bumped her shoulder against his. "You gave me the option to leave. Besides, you've never treated me like fragile glass before, so don't start now."

"Right. Even still." Silence, and then—"What was going through your mind during the heat of it? When you were in the Temple?" He hesitated, then added, "You...you don't have to answer that."

She considered. "There wasn't much room for thought beyond the pain. Most of me was consumed by my hate for Reaper. When I first regained consciousness, I started having flashbacks to Clora's death. He put me in the same room, you know. The room he killed her in." Her voice cracked.

Midnight swore. "I han't thought of that."

She grunted. "He knew it would bring back memories. The pain kept me occupied, mostly. I always thought it would take powerful thoughts to avoid shattering, but really, the best thing I did for myself was embrace what I felt. Accept it. That I deserved it. It was punishment for everything I'd done, every life I took." Midnight stayed quiet. And on the ground, walking beside them, she was certain that Steiner strained to listen. "It made it easier to bear, you know. Knowing there was no avoiding it. The hardest part was being alone. I..." Her voice died on her lips. Midnight was stock-still beside her. She swallowed. "I realized how alone I was, how alone I felt. There was no one. No one was coming for me, to save me. Why would they? Who would come? Elias? Nit?" She glanced at him, found his jaw working.

"You didn't think I would come for you." Not a question.

She exhaled. "No. Not after what you'd said."

"Fuck." He ran a hand through his hair, keeping the other tight on the reins.

"I thought of Beast and his apprentice. Of how a master and apprentice ought to be." She shook her head. "And then he nearly shattered me—Reaper." She shuddered at the thought. Midnight ran his hand down her leg, squeezing. He didn't move it after that, kept it there like a reminder. A reminder that things had changed. That he was present.

The horses continued to plod through the city, following the painfully slow flow of traffic. "I almost gave up Steiner's name," she admitted. Behind her, she heard Steiner grunt. "But Reaper said something...something about Clora. Just hearing him refer to her. It was the strength I needed. I pulled myself back from the brink. And then..."

Midnight hung on to every word. "And then, what?"

"You came. It was like waking from a dream. Like the first time I was tortured when you kept Screamer from taking a finger. I...I didn't want to believe it was real."

"I would have come for you no matter what," he whispered against her ear so Steiner wouldn't hear, kissing her there. The feel of his lips sent chills skittering across her skin, warmth budding in her chest. She was well aware that Steiner was watching them. She should have cared that they were in full view, but she didn't. Not now. Not like this. Not anymore.

"No matter what happens," he added, "I'll always fight for you. You are the only thing that has kept me from turning, all these years. After everything..." He might as well have paralyzed her with those words. For someone who had never offered their feelings, here he was saying things she'd never expected to hear from him. "You're all I have," he added. "You know that, right?"

"I...I know."

"And you can stop calling me Midnight, if you'd like. I know I said...before."

She barked a laugh. "Yes, I remember what you said."

When she learned his real name, Theodore Carter—she'd tried to use it. He took their sparring to an extreme that day, sending her away with more bruises than she could count, including a black eye so swollen she couldn't see from it. "Call me Theo again," he'd warned, "and I'll be more brutal next time." He'd always been a man of his word, after all.

Yet, she hadn't believed him, so she'd tried it again. He didn't give her any more bruises directly. But he made her do roofs every time thereafter when he caught her using it, which was all of two more times. She'd learned quickly, though it hadn't keep her from slipping up occasionally.

And anyway, he'd always been Midnight to her. She was rather fond of the name now, even if it carried a bad connotation. He called her Tabby because he'd always called her Tabby. He'd demanded her name in lieu of using her number. He'd known her before she made her first kill, before she became Tempest. So it was different.

***

They pulled up in the alley behind Newton's Mechanicals twenty minutes later. Steiner appeared from the darkness and collected Flint's body, hauling him in through a side door she'd left open. Midnight was back to his guarded self. She opened the hidden door and led both of them down into the basement. Let them tend to their new prisoner. She'd stripped enough victims down, didn't want to be involved if it wasn't necessary. Instead, she went upstairs and brewed some coffee, setting it out with a plate of biscuits. Better to snack now. She wouldn't have the stomach for it when Steiner and Midnight got started. Once the screaming started.

She smiled to herself, sitting at the table alone, thinking over her conversation with Midnight...Theo. Aside from saying his real name during sex, she wasn't sure she'd ever break herself of the habit. Or maybe she'd use Theo on special occasions, like when she was angry... and when they made love.

"What's got you grinning like a puppy." Steiner appeared.

"Nothing." Her smile vanished. "And I didn't realize puppies grinned. Where's Midnight?"

"Still in the basement prepping Flint. Tabby—"

"I know what you're going to say." She crossed her arms, gazing at him. "I know you saw us."

"Is that what you think? That I'm going to lecture you?" She simply gazed at him. "Far be it from me to judge. After all, I've never agreed with a Spect's way of life. He is a Spect and your master. But..." She snorted, waiting for it. "But you've got a good head on your shoulders. Moreover, he's lucky to have your affections—anyone would be." She stared at him, mouth gaping. That certainly wasn't what she'd expected. "Just...be careful, hmm?"

Midnight chose that moment to poke his head up from the stairway. His eyes landed on them, darted between them. "He's ready."

"I've got coffee, if you need." She held Midnight's stare, as if trying to tempt him to prolong the inevitable.

He grunted with a, "Maybe later," then disappeared again.

Steiner stood. "You going to be okay up here?"

"I...I'll be fine." She hated the way both he and Midnight treaded carefully around the subject of torture. She was a Spect, damn it. She hated that they felt it necessary. That she was weaker for it. That her ordeal had changed her. "I think I'll go up to the roof and keep watch with Nit." She grabbed her cup of coffee.

Steiner nodded, hesitated, then said, "It's not weakness, you know." She froze, her back to him. "Not being able to stomach torture. It's not a weakness."

"Right, then what is it?" She glanced over her shoulder, arched an eyebrow, waiting for some profound wisdom to tumble from his lips.

He shrugged. "I suppose it simply makes you human. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"I..." She frowned. Was it? "Whatever." She shook her head and turned on her heel. Perhaps she didn't know what she wanted. Not anymore. And perhaps she never would.