The high Kaelen felt wasn't like the warm, buzzing intoxication of stealing a memory. This was colder. It was sharper. It felt like her veins had been replaced with piano wire and someone was tuning them until they were ready to snap.
She stood on the edge of the cathedral roof, the gargoyle beneath her boot slick with rain and soot. Below, the plaza of St. Aethelgard was a churning sea of madness. The Sleeper agents—bakers, smiths, guards—were throwing themselves against the heavy brass gates, their bodies creating a mound of crushed velvet and broken limbs. They weren't screaming in pain. They were humming. That same discordant, vibrating note that had shattered Lector Halloway's crate on the pier.
"We can't go through the front," Valerius said, crouching beside her. He was wiping the grime from his silver-headed cane. "And the stained glass is reinforced with warding sigils. If we break it, the Cathedral's automated defenses will roast us."
"I could eat the wards," Kae suggested. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears—distorted, like she was speaking through a fan.
Valerius looked at her, his grey eyes filled with a mixture of fear and clinical assessment. "You've ingested raw Arcane Dreg, Vance. You are currently a walking reactor core. If you try to consume a holy ward, the collision of energies will detonate you."
"I feel fine," Kae lied. She looked at her hands. The black veins that had erupted after she swallowed the pollution were pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
You feel magnificent, the Voice whispered, sliding across her mind like silk over a razor. You feel like the end of the world. Why don't you jump? I bet we could fly. Or at least... bounce.
Kae shook her head, dislodging the thought. "The time, Inquisitor?"
Valerius checked his watch. "11:48 AM. We have twelve minutes before the Black Queen's appointment."
"Then show me the side door," Kae said. "You Luminaries always have a way to sneak your mistresses in."
Valerius didn't rise to the bait. He pointed toward the eastern flank of the massive structure, where a narrow bridge connected the main cathedral to a smaller, domed building—the Chapter House. "The Bridge of Penance. It's used for the condemned to walk to their trials. It's unguarded because usually, no one wants to go in."
They moved along the slate tiles, the wind whipping Valerius's coat around his legs. The altitude made the air thinner, but the smell of ozone and copper was inescapable. The city was burning, and the smoke was rising to meet them.
They dropped down onto the stone bridge. It was narrow, barely wide enough for two men abreast, suspended fifty feet above a courtyard filled with statues of weeping angels.
Valerius took the lead, his pistol drawn. Kae followed, her hand drifting to her pocket where the bone chess piece lay. She couldn't feel its warmth anymore. Her fingers were too numb.
"Valerius," she whispered. "My mother."
He stopped, glancing back. "What?"
"I can't remember her face," Kae said, the realization hitting her harder than the wind. "I know she had blue eyes. But the shape... the nose... it's gone."
Valerius's expression softened, just for a fraction of a second. "The Dreg eats the vessel, Vance. It's acid for the soul. Hold on to what's left. We're almost there."
He turned back to the heavy iron door at the end of the bridge. He pressed his hand against the lock, murmuring a phrase in High Obolus. The door didn't open.
"Changed codes," Valerius cursed. "The Cathedral is in lockdown. High Inquisitor Caligari must have initiated the Protocol of Silence."
"Step back," Kae said.
"Vance, no blasting," Valerius warned. "Stealth."
"I'm not going to blast it," Kae said. She stepped up to the door. She didn't use the Dreg power this time. She used the older, darker skill set—the one she was born with.
She placed her palm on the cold iron. Hello, she thought, projecting her mind into the metal.
Inanimate objects didn't have memories, not really. But they had echoes. They held the psychic residue of everyone who had touched them. Kae closed her eyes and sifted through the phantom sensations of a thousand hands unlocking this door. She felt the fear of prisoners, the arrogance of judges, the cold duty of guards.
She found the most recent imprint. A hand, trembling, entering a code just minutes ago.
Click. Turn. Three. Left.
Kae's physical hand mimicked the motion of the ghost. The tumblers inside the lock clicked.
The door groaned open.
"Useful," Valerius muttered, though he looked disturbed by the ease of her intrusion.
They slipped inside.
The interior of St. Aethelgard was a shock of silence. The roar of the riot outside was cut off instantly by the thick stone walls. The air here was cool, smelling of beeswax, frankincense, and old parchment—a stark contrast to the rot and sewage of the Sump District.
They were in the gallery overlooking the main nave. Below them, the rows of pews stretched out like a wooden army. The altar at the far end was dominated by a massive, golden sunburst—the symbol of the Purging Light.
But the nave wasn't empty.
Standing in the center aisle, perfectly spaced, were twelve figures. They wore the crimson robes of High Clerics. They were kneeling, facing the altar.
"The Council," Valerius breathed. "Why are they praying? They should be organizing the defense."
"They aren't praying," Kae said. The Dreg in her blood heightened her senses, allowing her to see the faint, shimmering aura of heat rising from the figures. "Valerius... look at their shadows."
Valerius leaned over the railing. The gaslights cast long shadows on the marble floor.
But the shadows weren't kneeling. The shadows were standing up. And the shadows were holding knives.
"It's a tableau," Kae realized, her stomach turning over. "Like the theater. Like the mirror."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The sound came from the altar.
"11:59 AM," Valerius said, his voice tight.
"We need to get down there," Kae said. She vaulted over the railing, ignoring Valerius's hiss of protest. She landed in the aisle with a heavy thud, her knees protesting. Valerius took the stairs, descending rapidly to join her.
They approached the kneeling clerics.
Kae reached out to touch the shoulder of the nearest one.
"Don't," Valerius warned.
Kae ignored him. She poked the crimson robe.
The cleric collapsed. He didn't fall like a man; he fell like a pile of dust. The robes crumpled to the floor, empty. A cloud of grey ash puffed up, swirling in the draft.
"Ash," Valerius whispered, horrified. "They've been incinerated. Instantaneously."
Kae looked at the row of empty robes. Twelve piles of ash. Twelve souls burned out of existence in a blink.
"Who could do this?" Kae asked. "This much power... it would take a sun."
"Or the fuel," Valerius said, looking toward the altar. "The Purging Flame."
They ran toward the golden sunburst. Resting on the holy table, right where the sacramental wine should be, was a chess board.
It was exquisite. The board was made of obsidian and ivory. The pieces were carved from bone and blood-glass.
The Black Queen—Kae's piece—was missing from the board.
But the White King was there. And the White Queen.
And sitting on the throne behind the altar, usually reserved for the High Inquisitor, was a man.
He wore a suit made of white silk, identical to the one Kae had seen in her vision in the Ossuary. But this time, his face wasn't a blur.
He wore the mirror mask.
"You made good time," the Killer said. His voice boomed through the empty cathedral, amplified by the acoustics. "I was worried the traffic on the rooftops would delay you."
Valerius raised his shotgun instantly. "Step away from the altar!"
The Killer crossed his legs, looking relaxed. He held a chalice in one hand. "Inquisitor Valerius. So loud. So predictable. You really are a pawn, aren't you? Only capable of moving one square forward at a time."
"Where is the High Inquisitor?" Valerius demanded, advancing down the aisle.
"Everywhere," the Killer said, gesturing vaguely to the air. "He's in the ventilation system. He's in the dust motes. He was very... flammable."
Kae felt the Dreg inside her flare up, reacting to the Killer's presence. The Voice in her head began to applaud. Encore! Encore!
"You wanted me here," Kae said, stepping in front of Valerius. She pulled the bone chess piece from her pocket. "I brought your Queen."
"My Queen?" The Killer laughed, the sound wet and gurgling. "Oh, no, Kaelen. You misunderstand the game. You aren't my Queen."
He stood up, placing the chalice on the altar.
"You are the board," he repeated the words from Halloway's memory. "The Queen... she has yet to arrive."
He pointed a gloved finger at the great stained-glass window above the entrance—the Rose Window of St. Aethelgard.
"But she makes a striking entrance."
Boom.
The stained glass exploded inward.
It wasn't a rock that broke it. It was a body.
A figure smashed through the multi-colored glass, raining shards of red and blue down onto the nave. The figure landed in a crouch between Kae and the Killer, the impact cracking the marble floor.
The intruder stood up slowly. She was tall, dressed in a tattered, grey asylum gown that had been ripped to shreds. Her feet were bare and bleeding. Her hair was a matted curtain of black tangles.
But when she raised her head, Kae stopped breathing.
The woman's eyes were sewn shut with silver thread. Her mouth was a ruin of scar tissue.
But the psychic signature... the taste of the mind...
It hit Kae like a physical blow. It tasted of lavender and warm milk. It tasted like safety.
"No," Kae whispered, stumbling back. The memory of the face she had just forgotten rushed back, vivid and screaming.
"Mother?"
The blind woman tilted her head, sniffing the air. She let out a low, animalistic growl.
The Killer spread his arms wide.
"Kaelen Vance," he announced, his voice dripping with theatrical delight. "Meet the White Queen. I believe she's been dying to see you."
Valerius looked from the woman to Kae. "Vance? That's... that's a necrotic construct. That thing isn't alive."
"She is to me," the Killer murmured. He snapped his fingers.
The woman—the thing that wore her mother's face—shrieked. It was the Laughing Note, weaponized into a sonic lance.
She lunged at Kae.
Defend yourself! the Voice roared in Kae's head. She's not your mother anymore! She's the opening gambit!
Kae couldn't move. The Dreg in her veins turned to ice. She watched the woman she had mourned for ten years fly through the air, claws extended, aiming for her throat.
"Check," the Killer whispered.