"Put some clothes on, my dear," said Reverend Smith. "The moon is full. It's time to prepare for the ritual.

  "Carl, Bob, please gather up our guests and bring them up to the chapel."

  Carl and Bob entered. Sam wasn't sure which was which. One of the men, the one with the hat, grabbed her roughly, one hand by the hair and the other by the back of her shirt. He hauled her to her feet.

  The bald one picked up Missy, who was now crying. They brought them out into the long hallway and upstairs into a ruined chapel. The very one Sam had seen in the vision granted by the Spirit of the City.

  The Reverend was already there. The chapel's altar had been cleared away, leaving an empty space. On the raised dais, the Reverend began to draw a sigil. Sam did not know enough about sorcery to interpret any of the symbols, nor did she understand the language in which he muttered. The two burly men held Sam and Missy close to the circle. Sam felt the same unnatural strength from the man holding her as she had from Louisa and the Reverend. She gingerly tried to pry herself free from the man's enormous paw. It did not give.

  As if sensing her struggle, the Reverend spoke up: "No use trying to free yourself now. You'll find both my servants quite well equipped to deal with one as scrawny as you." The man stood up, twirling his white mustache in his fingers as he turned to face her. "You got a little while before the ritual, I suppose. I can give you some context. I would not want you to die wondering who this nefarious bastard was who took your life! You see, I wouldn't want your ghost to haunt me trying to solve the mystery. That said, at the end of the evening, the soul with which you would haunt me will be swallowed up.

  "You see, I'm gonna sacrifice you. I'm gonna take the blood and soul of you. I'm gonna offer it up to the being who gave me all of my blessings and all of my gifts. And with that bargaining chip, I'm gonna free myself from the restrictions on our deal. Now, it is true I could have done this at any time. But it was unnecessary. Recently, however, my plans and ambitions have changed. Whereas in the past I was content to merely live out my eternal existence here on my family's ancestral land, now I do wish to take a more active role in local politics.

  "See, I wish to be the mayor of this parish. I wish to rule over this city and make judgments with regard to the goings on here. I have felt myself stymied of late. It seems old powers have returned to frustrate my efforts. Long have I kept a suitable flock for myself to feed upon. I tend to them, I house them, I ensure they are fed.

  "Yet, lately it seems the city itself stands against me. Sudden wealth reaches my community. Strange investigators begin poking their filthy noses into my business. Like you, Miss Fontaine.

  "So, I have decided to up the ante, as it were, and become a more influential member of society.

  "I have noticed you seem uniquely favored. Tell me where you got those talking rats. Such magic is strange indeed! I find myself curious."

  The man waited for Sam to respond. When she only glared at him, he looked over her head and said, "Carl, please see to the talkativeness of our guest."

  So the one with the hat was called Carl, Sam noted. The man released her, stepped in front of her, and lazily backhanded her across the face. It felt like being hit with a sledgehammer. Her teeth cut the inside of her cheek. Blood filled her mouth, which she swallowed. She didn't want to give her captor the satisfaction.

  Louisa Jones strolled through the door as if she were holding royal court. She wore an evening gown. It shimmered green in the light of the full moon, and contrasted with her dark skin.

  "Well, hello, my dear," said the Reverend, "thank you for joining us. Don't you look lovely?"

  Louisa walked over to the Reverend. They shared a deep kiss. Their embrace lasted a long moment, until the Reverend broke away and returned his attention to Sam.

  "Now, Miss Fontaine was just about to reveal the identity of who sent her to chase after us. We all wait with bated breath."

  "Go fuck yourself," said Sam.

  "Language, my dear. I am a preacher after all. You would not want to say such things in my presence.

  "Bob, please instruct Miss Fontaine as to why she should answer questions politely."

  Missy cried out in pain as Bob twisted the girl's arm behind her. Sam glared at the little girl's mother, who stood watching the scene with a placid smile.

  "You gonna let him treat your kid like that?" Sam asked Louisa.

  Louisa's lips curled into a smile. She said, "It won't matter."

  The child continued to whimper in pain. Relenting, Sam said, "Fine, I'll tell you."

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  "I came on my own. Missy, the girl, hired me to try and find her lost dog. When they weren't home, after I found the dog, I came looking. Need I remind you that it was you all who absconded with me?"

  "I can't help but think your story has a few missing details! In fact, I distinctly recall asking where you got those talking rats. Such magic is exceedingly strange!"

  "I..." Sam hesitated. "They came to my apartment one night. They told me you were going to capture Missy and hurt her. I don't know where they came from."

  "Bob," said the Reverend. At his insistence, Missy cried out in pain again.

  "I'm fucking telling the truth. I don't know where they came from. Maybe they're fucking ghosts, or they're possessed, or cursed. Who gives a shit?"

  Sam wanted to keep the nature of the rats secret. Where they had come from. Why they had spoken to her. She felt letting this man know anything about the Spirit of the City would be dangerous in a way she didn't fully understand. Always one to trust her gut, Sam kept quiet.

  "Well, it does rankle against me to not know the answer to such an interesting mystery. However, you do appear to be stubborn in nature. I suppose now would be sufficient time to reveal to you my own nature."

  With that, the man's eyes turned red as the whites filled with blood. He opened his mouth wide, and there, the teeth grew to fangs. His skin took on a pallid hue, paler than before.

  "You see, Miss Fontaine, some time ago I did make a contract. This contract required great sacrifice. My own mother and father gave their lives and their souls so that I could live forever. For over two hundred years, I have existed here in this city.

  "This city's nature is hunter and prey. There are the haves and the have-nots, and I have so much. However, the demon was clever. I said I wanted eternal life and the power over my enemies, and I was transformed into the regal being you see before you. I can even pass on my blessings. A bit of my blood and you'd be as strong as Carl there. A bit of my blood is a delicious temptation, which I have fed to dear Louisa.

  "However, I cannot walk in the sun; it does burn my skin. The nighttime has become my sanctuary. Furthermore, and this condition I must confess I have fewer qualms with, I must, upon the full moon, consume the blood of a virgin woman. Therefore, you see, young Mississippi here has joined us.

  "When midnight comes on the full moon, I will eat this little girl. I will devour her blood, and her soul will be sacrificed to my benefactor.

  "But in order to exert a greater influence upon my city, I must renegotiate, and that is where I have chosen you, Miss Fontaine. I feel your soul would make a sufficient offering. I need to walk in the sun."

  Sam once again turned her rage upon Louisa Jones.

  "You're going to let him sacrifice your little girl?"

  Louisa shook her head and frowned.

  "Well, you see," she said, "I have given up so many things to be a mother. I feel it is time now for my daughter to give up something for me. I have raised her. I have kept her fed. I have kept her clothed. And what does she do? She willfully disobeys me at every turn. I have got to have something of my own for life. I cannot simply be a mother every day. And the good Reverend, a man of the Lord, has offered to lift me up to be his equal. He wants me to be his wife! Can you imagine that? Me! A preacher's wife!"

  "It's true!" said the Reverend. "A politician must be seen to have certain things. I must be seen to have a wife. Even one of the darker-skinned variety. It would not look well upon me if I were some single man no woman could tolerate. And what a great impression it does give to the poor folk. Mingle my blood, as it were, with one of the darker-skinned women."

  "Well, I do think that's enough conversation for the evening. Now that everything is explained, the ritual is prepared, and everyone is squared away with their role in the evening's festivities, I think it's time to get things underway."

  The Reverend, humming now, returned to his task, seeing to the ritual circle. Sam's mind raced as she tried to plan some way of escape, some subterfuge by which she could convince the man to set her free. She could think of nothing. All her tricks and plans had been played or thwarted. She could appeal to no higher powers. Even the Liar's Eye, inert in her eye socket beneath the leather patch, had remained undiscovered by her captors. Undiscovered and useless.

  At last, the Reverend's labors were complete.

  "Bob, bring the girl to the center of the circle," he said.

  Bob lifted the girl, who now squealed in fear. She kicked her little legs, trying to save her own life now that everyone nearby had let her down. The Reverend began to intone his incantation.

  "O great Prince Sitri," he began.

  "Foul villain," interrupted a tiny voice from outside the chapel, "thou wert warned."

  From the front door of the chapel, a tiny rat appeared. Trashwater had returned. The brave little beast drew himself up, as if to deliver a proclamation.

  "Thy vile existence ends now. Thou hast profaned the Great Mother. Thou hast defiled her fair land.

  "And thou hast killed my brother." The rat's voice shook as he spoke.

  "Oh, the little rat has returned. Just in time. Hello, little rat. Make yourself comfortable. I shall see to you as soon as I am done with young Mississippi here."

  "Thou couldst have fled. Thou couldst have fallen upon thy knees and repented. But now, nothing will save thee.

  "Face the justice of the rats."

  From the ruined door of the chapel, Sam heard scratching and scrambling. A great wave of rats flooded through. Rats poured in from every crack in the walls. Rats crawled through holes in the ceiling and fell from the rafters. Rats climbed on top of each other. The stained glass of the windows behind the dais showed silhouettes of rats in the moonlight, scrabbling at the glass. As one, the windows burst. Rats flooded in their thousands. Their screaming voices spoke no words she could understand. But their faces were filled with rage. They streamed in like a furious flood. Their black eyes fixed on the Reverend.

  They ran straight to Reverend Smith. His smug smile washed away, replaced with a sneer.

  Louisa screamed. She struck at rats climbing up her dress. Sam was released, while Bob and Carl also fended off the rats. But not a single stray tail touched Sam. Nor did any rat approach Missy. The stampede instead flowed around them, though Missy cowered before the thousands of creatures who now swarmed towards their enemies.

  The great wave reached Reverend Smith. He stomped his feet and struck out with his hands, and rats did die. For every one he managed to kill, hundreds more took its place. Enraged, the rats climbed him like a tower. His shouts of anger turned to cries of pain. He fell to his hands and knees. The rats washed over him.

  The rats swallowed up Louisa. Bits of shredded gown flew from the pile of rats covering her. Her screams turned wet and then she screamed no more.

  Bob and Carl lasted longer. Their bulk kept them standing until they, too, disappeared under the swarm.