Will

Will swallowed the last of it, shivered at the bitter taste. "And the stimulants?" he asked, sucking his teeth in distaste.

"Are not recommended," Hacksaw replied, resting a protective hand atop his doctor's bag. "Liable to spring a leak in your brain or burn out your heart that way."

"None of your business, remember?"

"It's a waste of good medicine, is what it is."

Will soon had the doctor cowed and got what he wanted. Hacksaw's grin twitched violently as he watched Will empty three vials. Ginseng-based, going by the taste. Prepared, too—not as effective as the stuff he made himself, but good enough. He waved the Physician aside and went through the man's stock, taking a few items to refill his own satchel with, then sent him away so he could speak with Nyx and Serene in relative privacy.

The former prostitute was back to looking immaculate, wearing a mask of still beauty. "Guess I owe you some thanks," Will said to her. Suddenly full of energy, he resisted the urge to pace. "You turned out to be more reliable than I'd expected."

Serene arched a perfect eyebrow. Nyx did the same. Meeting their gaze felt a little like staring down a gaggle of popular girls in school. He didn't give them the satisfaction of letting his unease show.

"Not many brave enough to face down a man like Brimstone," he continued when his thanks went unacknowledged. "Even fewer smart enough to walk away alive."

Serene gave a smile that was equal parts restrained politeness and cold venom. "Don't feel too bad. It seems you have one out of two, at least."

Nyx laughed. Will couldn't help but grin himself. "I'm injured, you know. You have to be nice to me."

"You get exactly zero sympathy for tripping over your own shoelaces and then crying about it."

"The 'cold and unapproachable' act doesn't work on me—I invented that one. Just ask Sam."

"Do you think he's still delirious, most calamitous?" Serene asked.

"It's hard to say," Nyx replied, bare slender arms crossed, "but no, I think this is just his ambient level of silliness. Try to indulge him, dear."

"Very well."

"You're just two of a kind, aren't you?" Will observed.

The two women looked at each other, and some sort of hidden communication seemed to pass between them. Something along the lines of 'what an idiot', if he were to hazard a guess.

Understanding that their appetite for sarcasm was unlikely to be exhausted anytime soon, he decided to just power through it, and once more offered his sincere thanks for the rescue—for Serene's part in it, and the demon's as well.

"Henri did most of it," Serene argued with a half-shrug.

"And you had nothing to do with that famously limp-wristed fellow suddenly deciding to help? No touch of female encouragement?"

She snorted. "Oh, please. It would have been harder to have him not fall in love with me."

"Of course."

"Look, you're welcome, all right? I did it for—"

"You did it for Sam, not me. I get it."

"You're catching on."

"Mmhmm. Now, I hate to banish you to the children's table, but I need to have some words with Nyx one-on-one. You understand."

Serene rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

She headed for the door. Will could hear her talking to someone almost as soon as it closed behind her. Or talking to no one, more accurately. Bad habit, to acknowledge one's ghosts. He'd need to break her out of that habit somewhere down the line, before it became a problem. Assuming his line wasn't about to come to an abrupt end.

Nyx opened her mouth to spit out some pointless witticism, but Will got there first. "What do you know about a group called the Omen Bearers?" he asked.

The demoness brought her lips together; pursed them. "Nothing," she said at last. "I'm not familiar with any group by that name."

"No? What about Archangel Valeria? What do you know about her?"

"Very little that I am allowed to divulge without violating the terms of the First Contract."

"You aware that she's calling herself the Seraph of Vengeance these days?"

"No comment."

Will sighed. "How about a little cooperation here? The angels aren't exactly buddies of yours, are they?"

Nyx flashed sharp fangs, delicate nose wrinkling with rage. "Honestly, William, do get a clue. The First Contract is an ancient treaty that binds both my kind and the so-called Bright Ones. Its terms are enforced on pain of cosmic obliteration. It is a fate I would like to avoid—it sounds rather uncomfortable. And besides, my death would not serve Matthew's interests at all."

"Fine. But you know more than you're telling me."

Nyx stared blankly through her burning eyes. "Very little. And nothing that would benefit you at the moment. Let's leave it at that."

Will had no choice but to take her at her word. It wasn't as though there was anything he could do to force her to talk, as much as her refusal irked him. He couldn't tell if her talk about the First Contract was genuine or just a convenient excuse to avoid taking sides. In any case, Brimstone was the more immediate issue.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He told her, "I think I've got some idea of how Brimstone's build works. I still need some help to put it all together, though."

"Well, don't look at me, darling," Nyx said with a hand to her chest. "I'm no expert on all that Concord business. That's for you mortals to fiddle around with."

"Figured you'd say something like that. I was more thinking about the librarian—Fletcher. You know where he is?"

"I haven't the faintest."

"Great. Thanks for the help."

Nyx smiled. "Careful, dear. That almost sounded like sarcasm. A less charitable being might take offense."

Will didn't bother trying to get the last word in—he'd had quite enough of the demoness by now, and the fact that he felt like he had a hot coal burning through his stomach despite being juiced up to his eyeballs in painkillers hardly helped. He snatched Anathema from its spot propped against one wall on the way out, strapped the sheathed sword onto his hip, and sighed as he entered out into the hallway beyond Fletcher's bedroom, reckoning how to track down the man himself.

He could hear many voices echoing from downstairs. Fletcher would probably be as far away from those people as he could get without actually leaving the library. Then again, the top floors were apparently monster-infested. Somewhere in between, then.

Deciding that hunting for the little man seemed like a poor use of his time while there was a city on fire right outside, Will cast Detect [Fletcher Burroughs]. His AP was more dear to him than he'd like at the moment—he'd only recovered eleven since last night. The AP crystals he'd exerted were still dark, and would not recover for another two or three days at least. Another price of exertion that needed to be paid.

He found Fletcher on his hands and knees between two bookshelves on the fourth floor, hissing and poking with a cane at some papery bulbs that bulged from between the books, looking a bit like big hornet's nests.

"Good hunting?" Will asked, watching the little man work. He tried to lean against a wall, hissed at his bad shoulder, tried to cross his arms, found that just as uncomfortable, and finally settled for just standing straight up, feeling like a cripple with so many ailments to coddle.

Fletcher did not look up. "This is your fault," he muttered. "All your fault, you hear me? Bringing all these people… touching my books… women all over the place… And you haven't even helped me with these terrible vermin!"

"Sorry. In my defense, I was busy dying for a while."

"Yes, I know. You've been getting blood all over my bed. Very rude. I've had to sleep on the floor. Could hear the whisperwings all night long. Whispering, that is."

"Uh-huh. Listen, Fletch, I get that this is an emergency for you or whatever, but as you may have noticed, the city is on fire."

Fletcher didn't reply. Giving him the silent treatment.

"You see, I came across an interesting problem yesterday," Will said. "A clue toward figuring out Brimstone's build. I saw that he was using Rest for something—put himself into a trance. I think that's the key. If only I could figure out which abilities are interacting with it."

The librarian paused for a moment, hovering with his cane raised, its end coated in something sticky. He kept on prodding at the monster nest, then stopped again, let slip a mousey squeal of annoyance. "Remind me—what is Brimstone's Profession?"

"He's a C2-L1."

"Hm." Before long, Fletcher had discarded his implement and was sitting back on his heels, mumbling to himself. "Rest, you said?"

Will smiled. That didn't last long. As expected. The librarian couldn't resist a puzzle. "Rest, yeah. But that's meant to put the caster to sleep, isn't it? Only for Brimstone, it just made him look a bit droopy."

"Yes, well, I have a hypothesis. He's a Laborer."

"Yes?"

"So he may be using Tenacious to resist Rest putting him to sleep, thereby remaining in a semi-conscious state."

"While still gaining the benefits of sleeping."

"Exactly. And what are those, my boy?"

Will thought about it. "Well, AP regeneration is doubled during sleep. Complete AP recovery takes sixteen hours while awake, and eight while asleep."

"Correct. And Rest doubles regeneration again."

"Huh. Are there other abilities that benefit from sleeping?"

"Oh, undoubtedly. Come, my boy! We must consult the manual!"

His previous commitment already forgotten, Fletcher rushed to his feet and headed for the stairs. Will followed him down, gritting his teeth at every step jolting his wounds, and shielded Fletcher from the eyes of countless soot-covered refugees down on the first floor until the little man had scurried to safety in the undercroft.

It was dark and echoey down there. Fletcher used Illuminate to cast a chain of bright orbs the size of chicken eggs off into the air that lit the vaulted walls with stark blue light. They proceeded down a long passage with storage rooms on either side locked behind sturdy oak doors, at last reaching one at the end protected not only by its own door, but also a gate of steel bars in front of it. Fletcher unlocked both with a dismissive wave of his hand, and strode through into the cramped chamber beyond.

This was the restricted archive, where the librarian kept volumes of special value that the public could not be allowed to see. Will had never seen the inside of it before. His fingers itched to begin snatching books off the walls while Fletcher went about lighting candles. He resisted. They would not fit in his Inventory anyway.

Once the place was fairly lit up with warm candle light, Fletcher hurried over to one of the glass cabinets that held the rare volumes, and extracted a thick tome that he placed down on a desk at the end of the room with a heavy thump.

Will lurked at the librarian's shoulder, eyeing the pages greedily as Fletcher flipped through them. Unlike the sanitized versions that were endlessly reproduced and could be bought in any major Frontier settlement, this secret edition was maintained and added to by a small network of Scholars across multiple octants.

Much of what he knew about the Concord that was not simply common knowledge, he had learned from Fletcher's sparse recountings of the CSM. Divine vows, for one. The specific mechanics of semblance arts, for another. Other things more or less obscure.

Will would give every glory he had for a copy.

"Here are the mysteries that need solving," Will said. "One: how can Brimstone regenerate AP so quickly? Two: how was he able to accurately track me from over a block away without any of the relevant sensory abilities? And three: how is he able to keep his semblance up for hours at a time?"

"Yes, yes, I see," Fletcher replied, his fingers dancing eagerly across the pages. "Regeneration is already solved—Rest plus Tenacious. Multiple ranks in the former to double regeneration many times over while 'asleep', as it were. Combine that with a relevant vow, the doubling inherent from sleeping, maybe even a regeneration boost from his semblance, and…" He looked up for a moment. "Quick. Could be as high as 1 AP per minute. Maybe more. That solves your last question."

"It does?" Will asked.

"Yes!"

"How?"

"He's pouring AP back into his semblance to extend the duration."

Will frowned. "You can do that?"

Fletcher sped a vaguely disgusted look over his shoulder. "Of course you can. You didn't know that?"

Will sighed. "Fletch, why would I possibly know that? That's an extremely specific interaction, since popping a semblance drains all your AP anyway. Aside from Brimstone, who'd even be able to take advantage of something like that?"

Well, now that I think about it, maybe I could… someday.

That bright thought was quickly overtaken by a more urgent realization. "Wait. Does that mean what I think it does? If his AP regeneration is high enough, he could keep his semblance up indefinitely? Or, failing that, long enough to recover his SP and just cast it all over again?"

"That's riiight," Fletcher hummed cheerily, still scanning over neatly noted-down ability entries.

"God…"

If that was the case, Brimstone's only bottleneck would be skill fatigue, which he was obviously extremely resilient to considering that he had already been on a tear for several hours without slowing.

At least two more days before they could expect the cavalry to bail them out. How much would even be left of the city by then?

I have to do something about it. I have to...

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