"Isn't the Academy neutral political ground?"

  The question came out flat, stripped of the polite tone I'd been using. My facade had crumbled the moment that knife came out. I didn't see the point in conversing politely with someone who had no intention of reciprocating.

  Dean Ashcroft nodded, moving toward a cabinet built into the wall behind her desk. "It is. Since the Inquisition and the Church clash so frequently on matters of doctrine and authority, the Old Emperor, blessed he be, decreed the Imperial Academy sacred and neutral ground. A place where learning could flourish without political interference."

  She pulled out a wine bottle - expensive by the look of the label, something with a French-like name I couldn't read from this distance - and produced a corkscrew from a drawer.

  The cork came free with a soft pop.

  "But this place was violated centuries ago." She poured dark red liquid into a crystal glass with practiced precision. A smile played at her lips - the kind that suggested she found the entire situation deeply amusing. "Did anyone truly believe the Inquisition wouldn't establish its own networks within these walls? That the Church wouldn't have its hands in the Academy as well?"

  She settled into the chair behind her desk, wine glass cradled in one hand, and fixed me with a look that made my skin crawl.

  "Neutrality is a beautiful fiction we maintain for public consumption."

  I sighed, still kneeling on cracked stone with gravity holding me in place like an obedient dog. Every second that passed made me just that much more pissed off.

  "What do you need? I'd rather you get to the point if possible."

  Her expression didn't change. The smile remained fixed, pleasant, utterly devoid of warmth. Finally, after staring at me for a while, she decided to speak.

  "I should mention this now, but I dislike you. To some extent, at least. So I may not be very nice in the future. I tell you this so you know to try very hard to change the fact."

  My strained poker face cracked. My face went blank.

  "...Huh?"

  "Since we'll have a student-master relationship from now on," she continued, swirling wine in her glass, "I thought I ought to make the conditions of our contract clear from the start. Transparency prevents... misunderstandings."

  I opened my mouth to respond-

  "But ah." She raised a finger. "You already have a master, don't you? One who must be very annoyed I secured this position." The smile widened fractionally. "Unfortunately for him, I have connections as well. Quite extensive ones, in fact. One's even he can't manipulate."

  Understanding crashed over me like cold water, causing my right eyelid to twitch uncontrollably.

  This woman...

  There's no fucking way.

  "So you only became the handler of my cell to piss him off."

  She raised her glass in a mock toast.

  "Correct."

  The gravity restraints vanished.

  I gasped, collapsing forward onto my hands. Blood rushed back into compressed limbs. My knees screamed where they'd been forced against stone.

  Everything hurt. More than I'd dare let show on my face.

  "Are you caught up to speed now?" Her voice carried casual interest, as if she weren't using me in some personal vendetta as some pawn.

  "Sort of."

  "Just to reiterate." The smile vanished completely, replaced by something cold and sharp. "I dislike you. Not only are you his lapdog... But you're far too similar to him as well. The mannerisms. The way you look. It's... unpleasant, to put it mildly."

  Seeing how quickly the woman in front of me switched from a smiling expression to one utterly devoid of warmth, I couldn't help but feel that she was afflicted with an un-diagnosed case of bipolar, or worse, schizophrenia.

  I kept blinking, trying to clear the spots from my vision as I struggled to even reply.

  Stolen story; please report.

  "Trust me, I don't take that as a compliment nor a fact."

  My eyes grew sharp.

  "I am not anything like that man."

  She only kept the same mocking smile, as she sipped at her wine.

  "Only time will tell, then."

  My usual listless expression returned.

  "So. Why am I here?"

  "You've got your first mission."

  Of course I do.

  I couldn't even pay these people to give me a break.

  "Since the Nightlurker plague has yet to rear its head again," she continued, leaning back in her chair with the relaxed posture of someone enjoying themselves all too much, "you've been tasked to investigate a series of suspicious deaths in the meantime. Something relatively straightforward and low priority. Nothing too challenging for your new cell."

  I nodded my head, arms crossed as I noted it down in my head.

  "Three men died around the same time. All in the same district. All under identical circumstances."

  "Each was found in their bed, aged beyond recognition. As if they'd lived another forty, fifty years overnight. Completely drained of moisture - skin like parchment, eyes sunken, bodies desiccated."

  "Usually," she continued, "such matters would remain under the jurisdiction of the city guard - even with its more heretical pretense, its too small of a scale. But one of the victims was a noble. Viscount Devereux." The French name rolled off her tongue with perfect pronunciation. "His family formally lobbied the Emperor for Inquisitorial assistance. And since the Emperor himself decreed such help be given..." She shrugged. "I requested this case be assigned to us. Good training ground for rookies. Low stakes. Clear parameters."

  She set down her wine glass and fixed me with a pointed look.

  "It'll be good bonding experience as well." Her tone shifted to something almost cheerful. Though I doubted its authenticity, "You and your cell members. Those two may be quite strong, but they're equally distant. Their files describe them both as profoundly antisocial. Especially the girl."

  She delivered the observation with a casually analytical tone - almost as though they were nothing but numbers.

  I nodded slowly. "It's only natural."

  My eyes thinned as I looked at her directly.

  "The Inquisition only chooses such troubled children to join its ranks. Not like you have much of a choice if you've been groomed by the Inquisition since your youth,"

  She didn't bat an eye. Just sipped her wine, utterly unbothered by the accusation.

  "It happened to me, it's happening to you, and it'll keep happening as long as there's threats to the Empire. Children raised by the Inquisition prove to be the most loyal, after all."

  She reached into her coat and produced a thin file - brown paper bound with string, official seals stamped on the cover. She tossed it across the desk. It landed on the edge, half-hanging off.

  "Details are in there." She gestured at it with her wine glass. "Do you know how to contact your cell members?"

  My face went blank.

  Ah.

  I should have asked that.

  "No," I admitted.

  She laughed - a short, sharp sound devoid of genuine amusement. "Fortunately, I've included their schedules in the file. The boy - Leonard - is part of the War Department like yourself. You'll find him easily enough. The girl - Alice - is enrolled in the Academy of Noble Arts. Music, painting, theatre, exetera."

  I grabbed the file.

  "Understood. I'll find them."

  "Make it quick." Her tone shifted to something more businesslike. "If you're smart, you'll start your investigation tonight. The Inquisition can't keep the incident sites sealedfor long without drawing unwanted attention. The city guard is already getting impatient. Various nobles are asking questions. I wanted to keep the crime scene fresh, just for your team."

  She took another sip of wine, eyes tracking me over the rim of her glass.

  "You have two nights until the sites are released back to civilian authority. After that, evidence gets contaminated. The trail goes cold."

  I turned toward the door.

  "Oh, and Damian?"

  I stopped, glancing back.

  Her smile had returned - that same cruel amusement from earlier.

  "Do try not to disappoint me. I'd hate to report to your master that his prized experiment failed at something so simple."

  The emphasis on 'master' carried enough venom to kill.

  I didn't respond. Just opened the door and walked out, file tucked under my arm, knees still aching from where gravity had pinned me to the floor.

  Behind me, I heard the soft clink of crystal on wood as she set down her wine glass.

  The administrative hallway felt quieter than before.

  Or maybe I was just too annoyed to notice the noise.

  I walked back toward the stairs, mind churning through everything that had just happened. Dean Ashcroft was my handler - the senior Inquisitor chosen to guide and keep a cell in line.

  My handler hated my 'teacher'. Therefore my handler therefore hated me by association. And now I was trapped in some power play between two people with capabilities far beyond my own.

  Perfect.

  This is going to be a pain in the ass in the future.

  I pulled out a cigarette as I descended the stairs, not bothering to light it yet. Just rolled it between my fingers, feeling the familiar texture, using the repetitive motion to calm the frustration building in my chest.

  The Inquisition only chooses the damned and cursed to join its ranks.

  Leonard. Military-precise, noble-born, turned into an experimental test subject for a new version of the serum that allowed Inquisitors to weild the elements without divine blood. What had they done to him to make that work? What had he endured in the name of advancing the Umbra Formula?

  Alice. That empty expression. Those lifeless eyes that looked through me rather than at me. I knew I would have trouble with her. The lightning around her seemed to be the only thing that allowed light to reach her face. What had she gone through to cause such an empty expression?

  And me.

  Dual pathways. Divine blood from two different sources. Adopted by a madman who saw potential in a bleeding child and decided to turn him into a tool.

  The damned and the cursed.

  All of us.

  I reached the bottom of the stairs and pushed through the double doors, nodding once to the guards who'd checked my ID earlier as they gave it back to me. They barely acknowledged me, already focused on the next student approaching with paperwork.

  The War Department hallway stretched ahead, still filled with brown and grey and black uniforms moving with military efficiency.

  I need to find Leo.

  My pace quickened, leading me outside as my nerves seemed to reach an edge. The ciggerete in my hand twirled around my fingers with increased intensity, as my senses started to play tricks on me.

  But first, I need a smoke.