"Enough, Gertrude." The demon encased in a rat's body protested my nonchalant attitude. The cursed thing hadn't let me be since I ended her previous owner's life.

I assumed it was a she, with a name like Gertrude and all. Not that I'd sexed the rat or anything.

Compared to her agitated squeaks, I took an opposite approach. In response, I poked at the dying fire in the central hearth of the dilapidated inn that now served as my home.

My gut ached, much in the same way as it had every day since I took out the wizard who I didn't know was a wizard. It felt like I was bleeding, ever so slowly, and dying without dying. Despite the coldness wracking my body, blood stilled pumped through my veins, and my lungs still drew in air. In my pain, I envied the fire and its ability to cease being if not nourished.

I hated wizards. Have I made that point clear yet? And I loathed their hexes, not to mention their demon servants.

The infernal rodent stared at me in the creepiest way possible, waiting. I was far too familiar with that look, and I despised it. No, despised was too kind of a word. To describe the loathing of that wretched beast seething inside me with such a simple term would not do my animosity justice. I abhorred that abominable thing and did so with a revulsion that plowed through my mind like wildfire stampeding through the forest in the driest days of summer.

And I was pretty damn sure the rat felt the same about me.

Even so, she was ready to give me another target. If you asked how I knew, I would say to you I could just tell. After all this time, I'd become rather adept at deciphering her unspoken, ratly clues.

Don't get me wrong, I welcomed the opportunity. On the inside, I was downright giddy. I just really hated that damn rat.

Gertrude squealed, depositing a hunk of round metal on the dirty floor. As the object clunked on the wood to my left, she began pacing around it.

Picking up the bobble, I noticed it was more than any ordinary ring. A rounded plate on top bore an official seal, signifying this was not a trinket belonging to any common person. This one belonged to the city's chief tax collector, Hayman Goodfellow.

The name was a supreme misnomer if ever there was one. He was about as far from being a "good fellow" as one could get. A real jackass of all trades, actually.

A week ago, a local bar wench had gone missing. Everyone had seen her with the tax collector leaving the Wide Yawn, a mid-level establishment on the west side of the city. Also, a place known for its ease in picking up a prostitute. And not just any old hooker either. But one fairly certain to be clean of at least the more disgusting diseases floating around.

No one had seen the woman since. Until two days ago. That's when her body turned up.

She'd been bound, hands and feet behind her. A dirty, oil-soaked rag shoved in her mouth, her shoulders and hips had been dislocated. And by the looks of things, someone had a very good time at her expense.

I don't know. Maybe she enjoyed it too? Perhaps she was into that sort of thing? Minus the being killed part of the whole tryst, of course. Odds were she probably died from asphyxiation before the entire episode ended. Possibly before it even began.

It was all a guess on my part. But I knew a thing or two about strangling people. Rape, on the other hand? No. Rapists and pedophiles were about as low on my list as you could get. Some might add murderers to their own inventory of the worst of the worst. But not me. That description suited me far too well, after all. So I needed to make sure that, at least in my own mind, there were people worse than me on the spectrum of bad persons.

"Twenty-eight," I said for Gertrude's ears only. Giving the embers of the fire a final shove, I sent sparks flying.

She just hissed again.

"What are you going to do when you don't have me to order around anymore?" I asked.

Another hiss.

Familiars, I always heard, had to return to wherever they came from when their masters died. Somehow, this one found a means of sticking around to make sure its previous owner's curse was being fulfilled. Or maybe my information was faulty. Wouldn't have been the first time.

"I'm always glad when we have these talks," I said to my newest best friend. "Most stimulating conversation I've had in years."

Yet one more hiss.

I kept thinking Gertrude was actually trying to talk to me. But I didn't speak demon rat. Not one word of it.

With a sigh, I figured it was in my best interest to get this latest assignment over with. Then I could move on to number twenty-nine. And then number thirty after that. Just as soon as this accursed beast saw fit to bless me with them. Gods, how I detested being told what to do.

But I resigned myself to the task now at hand. Placing the ring into my pocket, I rose. Sheathing my blade, I made my way for a secret exit and stole out into the night that had become my sole comfort in death.