Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Charles looks up from where he's been cataloguing all the weapons in his bag, just to look around at the quiet office, Edwin reading on the couch. It all looks satisfyingly right. But Charles is still a little on edge.

They've been back in London for long enough to get comfortable again. All their little routines are falling back into place. But at the same time, everything's changed. Being in the office has a sort of double vision quality; thirty years of history are all still here, but then something will happen and it will remind Charles sharply that their afterlives are now divided by a line, running squarely between before-Port-Townsend and after-Port-Townsend.

He'll reach into his bag for his cricket bat, and remember it shattering against that horrible magic snake in that horrible witch's house. The day they'd lost Niko.

He'd killed the snake, they'd dealt with Esther for good and rescued Edwin, and after that they'd worked together to get Niko back. But none of them are the same as they were.

Some things are better. Crystal and Niko are part of the agency now, and it's good to have living friends around, good to have their help on cases.

And some things… well, Charles isn't sure how he feels about them.

The conversation on the stairs up out of Hell. The way Edwin looks at him sometimes, now, fond as always but also wistful, maybe a little hungry.

There's nothing wrong with it, Charles will fight anyone who says different, but at the same time he doesn't know quite how to deal with it all. There's an uncertain feeling wobbling where Charles's gut once was, every time he thinks of it. Of Edwin, wanting him. Of Edwin, loving him.

Edwin's eyes flick up from his book, catching Charles staring. "Are you all right?" Edwin asks, a slight frown on his face.

"Yeah," Charles says quickly, looking down to try and remember what he'd been doing, finding half his arm in the bag of tricks. "Totally aces, 'cept I can't figure out what weapon I want to keep handy, you know, in the spot I used to keep the cricket bat before it got exploded by a bloody massive magic snake."

Edwin puts down his book and leans forward, telling Charles, "You are proficient with every weapon in that bag. I have no doubt you will make an appropriate choice."

Charles can feel his face twisting up in frustration. "None of 'em feel quite right," he complains. He half pulls out the sword he'd used to kill the snake in the end. "This one's there now, but the sword's not really my style, is it? Fencing's your game."

Edwin narrows his eyes slightly, opening his mouth to answer, but he doesn't get the chance before Crystal shoves the door open unceremoniously and rushes in.

It's not business hours, in fact this is one of the days off she'd insisted they all take when she joined the Agency, so they aren't expecting her. Charles shoots a glance at Edwin.

Normally Edwin would glare at her and give her a piece of his mind about not observing the niceties, but he's watching her with concern. Charles looks at her again.

She's trying to look unconcerned, but Edwin saw through it before Charles did.

"Niko hasn't been answering her phone," Crystal says, "have you guys seen her?"

Edwin looks at Charles. Charles shakes his head. "No," he admits.

"Do you think it would be too weird if I asked you guys to go over there and check on her?" Crystal asks. "It's only been half a day, and I know the Agency is closed today, but we were supposed to meet up and she never showed."

Niko might not be quite human anymore, but they're not exactly sure what she is, just that she's potentially immortal and has an energy to her that can interact with magic in unpredictable ways.

It doesn't make them worry any less about her. She's already died once.

Edwin doesn't look happy. He might be trying to talk himself out of worrying. Niko is a bit of a wanderer, someone who doesn't mind exploring London on her own.

"I'll just pop by and check if she's home, yeah?" Charles says, getting up and shouldering his bag. Edwin shouldn't have to worry if there's an easy fix.

"Thanks," Crystal says, sinking into Edwin's usual chair at the desk. "It's probably nothing, but…"

The silence after she trails off is full of things that they can all hear well enough that no one feels the need to fill it.

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The flat on the other side of the mirror is silent.

No music, no cartoons playing through tiny laptop speakers. Maybe she's reading or something, so Charles pokes his head into every tucked away corner of the oddly shaped little flat. No Niko. She must be out.

Then Charles spots the black rectangle of a modern phone on the table, next to an untouched plate of toast.

That's… not a great sign.

He reaches out to pick up the phone, and his fingers nearly brush it before he notices something else.

Or… something, somewhere, buried deep in the back of his brain, is telling him to freeze. He hasn't figured out what he's seen, yet, but he knows there's something.

A feeling to the air, maybe. A prickling, mental, magical, something, something Edwin-but-not.

Oh. There's been magic cast here. Very subtle traces of spellwork are clinging to the surfaces, table, chair, phone.

Charles feels a weight of dread settle over him.

He shoves his head back through the mirror. "Edwin?" he says urgently. "You need to come see this."

Edwin, who seems to have been pacing the room in his absence, rushes over.

"What?" Crystal asks. "Did you find her?"

"Back in a tick," Charles says without answering, because right now he can't. He just can't.

He pulls his head back to make way for Edwin.

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Edwin does not let himself show any of the turmoil he is feeling. Something must be terribly wrong, for Charles to call him through with no explanation at all. Time must be of the essence, so Edwin does not delay.

"I almost didn't see it," Charles is saying. "Almost touched it, before I realized."

He's gesturing at a small black object on Niko's kitchen table, and Edwin doesn't understand what he's talking about, until he steps closer.

An icy chill runs through his whole being.

"Well spotted, Charles," Edwin makes sure to say, although it sounds hollow, almost echoic, even to himself.

"Is it what I think it is?" Charles asks anxiously.

Edwin leans down, tracing the spider's web thin lines of spectral energy with his eyes. "Yes," he is forced to admit. "This is Fomorac's work."

"Fuck," Charles says very quietly. "What do we do?"

"We do not touch anything at all," Edwin says steadily, not feeling steady in the least. "We go back to the office, and we make a plan."

"Right," says Charles, nodding. "Do you think it's safe to get something for Crystal to read, or would that be too much of a risk?"

Edwin considers that.

"Let's not risk it yet," he decides. "We can consider our options."

His brain is screaming at him that they have precious few options, that this is Fomorac and they do not cross Fomorac for a reason. But this is Niko.

"All right," says Charles, not arguing for once. "Let's get back and figure this out." He nudges Edwin's shoulder with his own in a friendly way, but that friendliness does not stop Edwin from being far too aware of the contact.

Edwin has spent the time since their return to London holding himself back, being professional, being careful not to make Charles uncomfortable. Not baring his feelings to the newer members of the agency.

Edwin so badly wants to reach out.

Thankfully Charles doesn't hesitate to reach out as he always has. Nothing has changed.

A blessing, Edwin knows, though it does not always feel like one.

Today, it is absolutely necessary to his sanity. He knows that Charles will be by his side, a steady support.

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Crystal pounces on them the moment they return. "What's going on?" she asks. "Is Niko there or not? Is she okay?"

"So," says Charles, "we didn't find her. But we have some clues."

"What does that mean, clues? What kind of clues?" Crystal asks.

Edwin and Charles exchange a look, but it seems neither of them know how to break this news to Crystal.

"Talk to me," she pleads, "or I will go over there and break in to look for myself!"

"No!" Edwin and Charles snap in unison.

"It's too dangerous," Edwin tells her. "I absolutely forbid it."

"I can handle myself," Crystal yells in frustration.

"Too dangerous for Niko," Edwin corrects as gently as he can manage.

Crystal covers her mouth with a hand, and seems to crumple in on herself, collapsing onto the couch.

"We spotted one of Fomorac's spells there," Charles tells her. "There could be more. There are always more."

"What does that mean?" Crystal asks with a small, shaky voice.

"Fomorac is a mage who has been operating in London for far longer than we have," Edwin says, doing his best to maintain his composure. "And I believe he may have captured Niko."

"Well then we go and get her, right?" Crystal asks, looking between the two of them. When they don't immediately respond, she prompts them again. "Right?"

"You know how we said we don't like going up against witches?" Charles reminds her. "Fomorac is one of the reasons why we know it's a bad idea."

"But this is Niko," Crystal insists, voice breaking.

"Believe me, I am aware," Edwin tells her, a bit too sharply. He does his best to rein in his temper. "The first time we crossed paths with Fomorac, he made us watch as his pet thunder elemental consumed our client entirely."

"Said he'd let us off with a warning," Charles adds. "But that he wouldn't leave us to run around supernatural London if we interfered with his operation again."

Crystal takes a breath and looks up at them. "We have to try."

"Agreed," says Edwin. "But we must plan this venture with care. He is dangerous to all of us. His wards are subtle but well crafted and liable to snap shut on you, like a mouse trap."

"We need as much information as we can get about what he's been up to lately," Charles says. "And to restock our arsenal as much as possible, magical ingredients especially."

"Would it help if I read something of Niko's?" Crystal asks.

"I wouldn't recommend any of us returning to that flat unless we have no other choice," Edwin tells her.

"Okay, but." Crystal digs in her purse, and pulls out a pen with a fuzz of pink feathers attached to the end. "I, uh. Borrowed a pen from her last week. I haven't read it because it would've been a violation of her privacy. But I think it's one of her favorites."

"May I?" Edwin asks, holding out a hand for it. When Crystal passes it over, Edwin examines it closely for any sign of Fomorac's handiwork. And once more, to be sure.

Nothing.

"The wards I keep on this office would burn out anything as subtle as Fomorac's work," Edwin tells her with relief, "and the pen has not been tampered with. It should be safe to read it here." He hands it back to her.

"Right," says Crystal. "Here goes." And her eyes go silver-white.

When she blinks the mist away, she looks grim.

"What is it?" Charles asks her.

"I'm not getting anything," Crystal says.

"Nothing?" Charles asks. "Wait, when you tried to read her before, you couldn't, and I thought that was the sprites, but maybe it's just Niko?"

Crystal shakes her head. "That was different," she says. "That was… I saw static, in kind of… pastels. The same colors as the gunk the dandelion sprites made her spit out. That was the sprites, I'm pretty sure. But this was… quiet. Something still, almost… frozen."

"Is it because he's done something to her?" Charles asks cautiously.

"He undoubtedly has," Edwin says in answer.

In a hushed voice, Charles asks, "She's not… gone?"

"I don't think so," Crystal offers. "That's not what it usually feels like to read someone who's no longer on this plane." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry. I know that's not much."

"Thank you for trying," Edwin tells her. "It is something. And perhaps there are others who can tell us more." He takes out his notebook. "I am going to summon the Night Nurse," he warns the others.

"Right, good plan," says Charles, and backs away from the spot in the center of the room where she tends to appear.

Edwin puts his thumb over the sigil that's drawn in his book and speaks the word that will activate it. The Night Nurse promptly pops into existence in the usual place.

"Oh, what trouble have you gotten yourselves into now?" the Night Nurse asks, because the only time they summon her without warning is if they are more afraid of whatever they're facing than they are of her and her whole administration.

"Niko is missing," Edwin tells her. "We believe she was taken from her residence by the mage Fomorac. Any help you can give us in finding and retrieving her would be greatly appreciated."

The Night Nurse sighs and opens her book. "Disposition of the living is not generally my area," she tells them, "but we do have a file on her, created at the time of her first death, so I suppose I can take a look."

"Thank you," Edwin says. He is always scrupulously polite to the Night Nurse, now that they have a working relationship.

Lips pursed, the Night Nurse frowns down at her book.

"What is it?" Crystal asks.

"It appears that Niko Sasaki has been compacted," the Night Nurse says.

"Compacted? Like that thing Esther did to us, when she first captured us?" Charles asks, looking at Edwin. "I thought that only happened to ghosts."

"I was also under that impression," says the Night Nurse.

"Does that mean she's dead?" Crystal asks.

"No, apparently not," the Night Nurse says, narrowing her eyes at whatever she sees in her book. "It is just like a member of the Dead Boy Detective Agency to get yourselves into impossible trouble."

"So can you help us find her?" Charles asks.

"If I could track souls on Earth without a metaphysical signature to follow," she tells him pointedly, "I'd have caught up with you boys decades ago."

"Right," says Charles. "Never mind, then."

"Detectives," the Night Nurse says, "this is, in fact, exactly the sort of problem that I would refer to you, if it had come across my desk. So I suggest you get to work."

"Yeah, we will," Crystal agrees. "Of course we will."

Edwin gives the Night Nurse a nod. "Thank you for your time," he says.

And the Night Nurse vanishes.

The three detectives look at each other.

"Damn it," Crystal says, and sniffles. "Niko's in so much trouble, and we're just… sitting here, spinning our wheels!"

"That is not true!" Edwin snaps.

"Well it sure feels like it right about now!" Crystal returns. Her eyes are streaming with tears.

"We don't have time to waste on this sort of outburst," Edwin tells her pointedly.

"Oi! Stop that," Charles says, shooting Edwin a look. "We're all on the same side, yeah? You know she's doing her best." He goes to sit beside Crystal, putting an arm around her. "We're all gonna do our very best, you know that, right?"

Edwin tells himself firmly not to begrudge her the affectionate contact that she so clearly needs more than he does, at the moment.

"Yeah," Crystal admits, giving Edwin an apologetic look. "It's just. It feels like a lot of dead ends."

"I assure you it is not," Edwin tells her. "Even if it were, it would have been worth exploring those avenues, for the sake of eliminating them. But we learned something from both. From your reading, we learned that there is a psychic barrier between Niko and the outside world. From the Night Nurse…" He picks up the magic eight ball from the shelf and turns it over absently in his hands. "That there is a physical barrier as well, that she has been physically neutralized in one of the most effective ways possible."

"Is that why Crystal can't read Niko?" Charles asks. "Because she's been compacted?"

"It seems likely," Edwin agrees.

"What would this guy, Fomorac? What would he want with a compacted immortal?" Crystal asks, wiping her eyes and clearly making an effort to be attentive.

"There are a number of things a mage could use such a tool for," Edwin tells her. "None of them strike me as particularly likely for Fomorac to utilize himself. Not his style. Which leads me to hope that she will remain in her current condition until Fomorac can sell or trade her to another caster."

Crystal winces. "Right. So what next?" she asks. "What's the plan?"

Edwin raises his eyebrows at Charles; he does not think he is the best person to suggest anything to Crystal right now. Charles nods, acknowledging that.

"Next, you eat something," Charles tells her, softening the words with another squeeze around her shoulders. "Try to get some rest while we go out around town and see what useful intel we can get hold of."

"No," Crystal says, straightening in her seat. "I want to help."

"Being invisible is helpful for this part," Charles explains to her with a lopsided smile.

"Besides," Edwin adds. "We need you fresh tomorrow. We will work through the night to find out more about his current activities, and then the true planning can begin." Hopefully, he does not add aloud. Crystal does not need more reason to doubt that they have things in hand for the moment.

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Despite the unhappy reason for their excursion, Charles is clearly enjoying having a reason to be amongst living humans, to listen in on the private conversations of those who cannot see them and exchange words with those who can. The gossip is interesting, but nothing solid on Fomorac so far.

These are places with supernatural connections, but not the Agency's usual haunts. Nothing like the charming corner pub with a bartender or two in the know where they usually go for gossip.

The tavern they are in now is somehow both more upscale and more seedy than that, with sleek dark lines and dramatic lighting and full of watchful eyes in obscure corners. If Fomorac does business at a place, that usually means someone is being exploited in an ugly way for a great deal of money.

This particular place has a backroom which might yield some interesting intelligence, if they can talk their way inside — breaking the wards would not be wise at this juncture, and one of the bartenders seems to be keeping an eye on them.

"I'm looking to purchase something a bit particular," Edwin tells the bartender. When the man only looks at him, eyes narrowed, head slightly cocked, Edwin continues, "We have cash."

The man inclines his head, and turns to walk to the back room.

Edwin has been in this room exactly once before, and that was before their first run-in with Fomorac. He's tried to avoid it since, but it is the only place in the world he's been able to find freshwater mermaid scales for sale.

Charles hasn't been here, and so he's looking around with interest now, too cautious today to touch anything even with his gloves on, but Edwin can read every little twitch of his fingers when he sees something he's curious about.

Some of the selection Edwin can see is the same as he remembers, and some is new. Some are things that make him uneasy to even be in the same room with. Volatile, cruel, cursed things that even the pragmatic Tragic Mick would have had nothing to do with.

Spotting another such example, an ugly blood curse laid on an iron shackle, Edwin represses a shudder.

Last time he'd visited, he'd been in and out as quickly as possible, but their goal today is a good look around.

Edwin asks about the quality of some of the more interesting spell ingredients on offer, and takes in all the information he can, hoping to find something relevant, but this place is, in the end, its own business, and not necessarily connected to any of Fomorac's other current enterprises.

Then Charles says, "What's this, an auction catalogue?"

Edwin's eyes snap over.

Too eager, perhaps, but why would the two of them be here, after all, if not to obtain arcane rarities?

"Take a look if you like," the bartender says, sounding bored.

Charles looks to Edwin, who gives him a small nod. Charles picks up the catalogue and flips through it, frowning down at the pages. "What do you think?" he asks Edwin.

Edwin steps over to have a look.

At first glance the catalogue seems to contain perfectly normal items (exceptional, perhaps, but in a non-magical sense), but then Edwin stops.

There's a faint hum of magic coming from the pages.

Edwin does a brief mental calculation, and removes one of his gloves. Charles raises his eyebrows, but doesn't argue.

Running his fingers across the glossy color images on the page, Edwin catches the trick. There is a second layer to the catalogue, such that only magic users can access magical information. He triggers the spell on a picture of a sapphire diadem, and suddenly he is holding an illusion of the thing in his hands, complete with a simulacrum of its attendant curses.

"Clever," Edwin remarks, to hide his disgust at the contents of those curses.

"Can I have a go?" Charles asks, looking intrigued.

Edwin flips the page, seeking another item, and spots an antique battle axe. He touches the page, and gives the magic a little tug to draw out the illusion.

It's a sturdy piece, reinforced and resistant to most spells. Its purpose is violence, but there's nothing inherently wrong with any of that.

"Try that," says Edwin, dropping the illusion and tapping its image on the page.

Charles tugs off his glove and lays a hand down on the page, and the illusory battle axe pops up again. He grins, hefting it. "Oh, that's a bit trippy, innit?" he says. "I can tell it's not real, but it seems pretty real."

He steps back and gives the battle axe a couple of good swings, face filling with glee.

"Are you having fun with the enchanted axe?" Edwin says, raising his eyebrows.

"It's pretty tempting," Charles says, but the way he keeps eye contact for a moment longer after he says it tells Edwin the rest of what he would say if there weren't eyes and ears on them. (Charles would want it, but only if things were different. If it didn't mean dealing with Fomorac. If Niko's freedom wasn't at stake.)

Then Charles gives the axe a thoroughly showy spin, right back to gleeful.

Oh, Edwin loves him. It's a glow in Edwin's chest, a lightness that makes him want to float away.

No. They must focus.

Edwin turns back to the catalogue. Surely Fomorac wouldn't actually be so brazen as to place an advertisement declaring a compacted immortal for sale? He flips through the remainder of the pages, telling himself it's unlikely.

But then a large, colorful harlequin opal set on a chain catches his eye.

It couldn't be.

Could it?

Edwin touches the page, holding the illusion in his hand — a colorful little gemstone, packed tightly with magic.

A glowing core of it. A well of power too deep to be anything but a soul.

Edwin wants to examine it in depth, immediately, stop everything and learn, if this is her, what's been done to her.

But the longer they linger here, examining a single item in the catalogue, the greater the danger that this will get back to Fomorac.

Reluctantly, Edwin drops the illusion and closes the catalogue. "I'd like to be able to study this at more leisure," he tells the bartender. "Do you sell copies?"

They do sell it. The price is steep, but nothing they cannot afford, especially given that they now have Crystal's promise to help fund the Agency in an emergency. Edwin takes the opportunity to refresh his stock of freshwater mermaid scales, as well, and even haggles just a bit. He is not in the mood for such a delay, but it would be suspicious if they didn't haggle at all.

Charles retrieves the money, then tucks the purchases away in his bag. He doesn't say anything until they've gotten through a mirror and back to the office.

"What did you find?" he asks immediately, digging the catalogue out of his bag.

Edwin flips to the page with the opal and tugs the illusion out again, holding it in his hands carefully, as if it is her and not merely an illusion. The colored patches seem to gleam at him.

"This is her," Edwin says, slightly breathless. "Niko, compacted. In a form that makes it quite easy to utilize her energy."

"Are you sure?" Charles asks.

Edwin looks up at him. He cannot afford to be anything but absolutely certain.

"No," he admits. "I'd need to hold the thing itself, not merely an illusion."

Charles looks grim. "We need to find out where they're keeping her, then," he says.

"The auction house makes the most sense," Edwin realizes. "We can begin our search there. And the possibilities are limited."

"Great!" Charles says. "How do we rescue her?"

There are so many possible avenues, so many ways they could go wrong. But they must choose something and pursue it, or they will never succeed.

"We are going to need to make a duplicate of this opal more convincing than the illusion from the catalogue," says Edwin.

"Right. What do you need?"

They'll need to obtain all the ingredients Fomorac would have needed to produce such a thing, without attracting his attention. Fortunately, they already have the majority of them. Tragic Mick, as a non-local source, is their go-to for the rest.

Edwin makes a list, and Charles digs through his bag for what he has in there, and then takes the rest of the list on an excursion to the States while Edwin prepares what he can.

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As Edwin sets the rest of the ingredients in their places, Charles leans against the desk, looking thoughtful.

"How much do you think he already knows?" Charles asks warily. "Did he just happen across Niko, or did he know she's part of the Agency now?"

"I have been wondering about that," Edwin admits. "If he already knows, all we can do is work as quickly and quietly as we can, which we would have done in any case."

But it's a worrying thought all the same. Which is unfortunate.

Edwin's eyes flick across the objects on the surface of the desk, trying to account for everything. Physically, everything is in place.

But this kind of magic requires focus, and he is anything but focused right now. The reminder that Niko is in danger is ever-present. The magical object he is preparing to assemble will be, in as many respects as possible, identical to the tiny prison where she now resides.

Edwin feels utterly scattered.

Then there's the warmth of Charles's hand on his shoulder.

"You all right, mate?" Charles asks.

The panic settles a little.

"I'm fine," Edwin answers, and it is more true than it was a moment ago, but not as true as it needs to be.

"We're gonna get Niko back safe," Charles assures, squeezing Edwin's shoulder, rubbing against it with his thumb. "Again."

Well. At least Edwin feels scattered in a more pleasant way, now.

He takes a breath. "Yes," he agrees. "If I can get this to work."

Doing his best to banish it all and still his mind, he begins the spell.

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Visually, the resulting stone is a match for the one in the catalogue, and the containment spell's outer layers are indistinguishable.

It's not quite the same without its contents. There is none of that glowing core of power that comes of the original stone containing a soul.

"It looks brills," Charles says. "Just like the illusion one."

"Looking identical may not be enough," says Edwin. "I wonder… perhaps I should do more research."

"Right. Meanwhile, I'm gonna do a little recon around the auction house, yeah?"

The auction house is not tangential to Fomorac's operation the way the tavern where they'd gotten the catalogue is. It is one of perhaps four or five places that are central to his territory.

Edwin cannot stop Charles from doing his job, but he can catch him by the arm, look him in the eye, and say, "Be careful," in the most serious voice he has.

"I will," Charles says back, just as solemn.

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Charles returns just before Crystal does, so she's there when he explains what he found out.

"The guard on the evening shift can't see ghosts," Charles tells them with a cocky smile. "I followed him to his girlfriend's place. Confirmed he's gonna be on again tomorrow night. Also said he's gonna try and pick up a little extra cash somewhere so he can take his girl out somewhere nice."

"Are you suggesting bribery?" Edwin asks. It's not a bad thought. It is risky, but that is true of any plan Edwin can think of, as well.

"Worth a try, I think he'd go for it," Charles says.

"Just tell me if we need more cash," Crystal offers.

"Thanks, we might need to take you up on that. What about the wards on the auction house," Charles asks, turning back to Edwin. "How much do we know?"

"I haven't dared examine them closely firsthand, so we will need to rely on what I've gleaned from the experiences of others we've encountered, informed by the spells of Fomorac's I have been able to dissect." Edwin makes a face. "Secondhand information at best, but it will have to do. So. In general, Fomorac's wards react to magic and other active stimuli specific to the individual ward, but magic that has already been cast tends to pass through without a problem. From what I've heard, the wards on the auction house are triggered by lies. Also, they won't let bodiless spirits through, so we'll need our disguises. The ward likely isn't active enough to tell the disguises from living humans."

"Likely," Crystal echoes. "Maybe this part should be done by a living human?"

"Crystal," Edwin says, as gently as he can manage, "even when you are not actively using your powers, you radiate enough magical energy to set off all of Fomorac's wards, fourfold. The same has been true of Niko, since she returned from the Neitherlands. It must be us. And in any event, until I can be in the stone's presence, I cannot be completely certain it is her. It would be a shame to go through with the swap and then discover we have the wrong trapped spirit in hand."

Crystal sighs. "Yeah," she agrees. "That'd suck." She purses her lips, thinking. "So the plan is to swap it out? You've got some way of doing that without anyone noticing?"

"Good old fashioned sleight of hand," Charles tells her. "The other kind of magic trick. And Edwin's got the stone ready to swap it with, right?"

Edwin blows out a breath, picking up the facsimile opal and staring into its glimmering depths.

"I've done my best to replicate the stone itself," he tells the other two, "and the outer structure of its spellwork, but I cannot create the kind of energy well within it that is Niko. It will pass only the most cursory inspection from a magic user acquainted with what it should be. That will limit the time we have before Fomorac realizes it is a fake and pursues us."

Crystal's gaze is fixated on the little thing. Edwin assumes at first that it's the emotional weight of seeing how small Niko's current prison is, the reality of the situation bearing down on her as it had on Edwin when he'd created the thing.

But then she says, "Hang on. I have an idea. Can I hold it?"

"What do you intend?" Edwin asks.

"Well, you just told me the problem with that copy. I think I can fix it. I promise I won't break it," she adds, as Edwin continues to hesitate.

"You cannot create a soul by magic," Edwin reminds her. "No one can. Even with all your power."

"I'm aware," she says. She holds out her hand for the opal.

Edwin fights the tendency to distrust Crystal's skills. It isn't constant anymore, but the fact that they're dealing with Fomorac is bringing Edwin's need for control back, full force.

He makes himself take a breath, makes himself place the facsimile in her hand.

Her eyes go white.

It feels like an age, but is more likely only a minute or two later when she returns, shaking herself out of the trance and handing back the stone. "What about now?"

Edwin's magical senses prod the stone, which he made and should know inside and out. And this is his work. Identical to Fomorac's, except…

But no, there is… something. Inside its little cage. A glow of concentrated, focused… life.

"That…" Edwin blinks down at the thing. "That may just work."

The seed of energy within Edwin's stone is tinged with the energy of the afterlife. Just as Niko's likely would be.

Edwin is not sure if he wants to know where Crystal obtained a compacted soul with the touch of the afterlife on it. Or something that could fool Edwin's magical perception into thinking it was.

And then it occurs to him what the spark might be. He narrows his eyes at it.

"Are you certain it's a good idea to put power like that in the hands of an enemy?" he asks Crystal.

"Oh." Her eyes widen. "I don't know. But didn't you need this thing to be dangerous? Wasn't that the point? So that if he tests it, there's a spark in there to channel. So it works like he built it to."

"Yes," Edwin agrees grimly. "It will indeed buy us time. But at what cost?"

"What?" Charles asks. "What did she do?"

"I just took a problem, and turned it into a solution," she tells him breezily. "If it turns back into a problem, we'll deal with it then, right?"

Edwin thinks about Fomorac, with this addition to his arsenal.

What a terrifying thought.

And then he thinks about Niko, and how much he would sacrifice to get her back safely.

"Indeed we will," he says.

"Great, that's settled," Crystal says. "Now, show me your disguises. You're gonna need to look rich enough to pull off whatever bribe can tempt this guy to betray his super dangerous boss, and still go to an auction later."

Charles puts together a quick variation on things their usual disguises have worn before. They both don the disguises, which are dressed up a little more than usual, but Crystal eyes them critically.

"What?" Charles asks, the voice of his usual disguise comfortably gruff and familiar in Edwin's ears. "I thought they were pretty good."

"You look like you're going to a wedding," Crystal tells him with the barest edge of a smile.

"Yeah, I figured we ought to break out the good clothes, yeah?" Charles says.

"Yeah, but there's a difference between 'fancy' and 'posh,' right?" Crystal says. "You should look like yourselves, you should look comfortable in your clothes. You don't have to wear anything in particular to look rich."

"So this should be fine," Charles says, changing out his suit for jeans with a gesture.

"No," Crystal says, looking him over. "That's just regular casual."

"I don't get it," Charles says.

"Like, you don't have to wear slacks instead of jeans, you could wear either, but the fabric has to be good quality and the fit has to be flawless."

Crystal goes over a thousand little tiny details with Charles, and they tweak his clothes until Crystal is satisfied.

And Charles does look different, after.

It might be his disguise, but it's Charles, Edwin can recognize his gestures, the way he moves, and that's him. Clothed in disguise and then clothed again in tailored, rich fabrics that flatter that shape.

Somehow he looks more like himself, more fitted into the right shape, more ready for whatever comes their way.

"You're staring, mate," Charles tells Edwin. "Is it really that different?"

"Crystal does good work," Edwin says with a nod. "You look… you look superb."

"Superb sounds good," Charles says with a lopsided smile. "Your turn now, eh?"

"I suppose so," Edwin agrees, looking at Crystal warily.

Somehow, although Charles's disguise is fully dressed, he looks more… exposed, more visible, and Edwin is not sure if he wants to shine through his own disguise that way.

"Don't worry," Crystal says, watching him with knowing eyes. "We're going for comfortable. We're going for whatever little thing you would want to be wearing if you could have every detail just the way you want it, because you can. Because you're rich, and you're going to bribe a guy a lot of money just so you can look at a thing you're going to pay a lot more money for in an auction later."

"Right," Edwin says cautiously.

"Now, here's a trick," she tells him conspiratorially. "Modern machines can knit, but they can't crochet. So one really subtle way to look wealthy is to wear something that's crocheted, really thin yarn, you know? Lots of little stitches and all hand-done. Maybe something with beading."

Ah. Crochet. Now that is a subject Edwin can warm to.

"Fine crocheted lace," he says, nodding thoughtfully. "I see. But with a more modern sensibility. Will you help me find some appropriate photographs?"

After a time spent searching through images of modern styles of crocheted garments, Edwin has an idea of what he would like to put together.

The entire outer layer of the dress is crocheted lace. Deep blue with a starry sparkle of beads and a fade to a brighter blue and then a pale green at the hemline.

Crystal's expression as she looks it over is promising.

"Oof, I want that," she says. "That looks incredible."

"I take it that will work?" Edwin asks, just a bit smugly.

"It's a start," Crystal says, pushing back against that tone. "Let's talk hair and accessories."

As they work through the details, Edwin notices how Charles's eyes linger. Not just fond, but… something more. Something… wanting.

No. Well. Perhaps. However.

Edwin dismisses that; it's irrelevant to Edwin himself. It's probable the femininity of the disguise is responsible for the interest on Charles's face.

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"I still hate that I can't come with you guys for this part," Crystal says. "I want to be there for Niko."

"You are," Edwin tells her. "You will be. You are sending us off with money to spare, excellent disguises and a remarkably good facsimile of the object we are trying to retrieve. You have more than done your part."

She wishes them luck, and they start off, going over their strategy once more as they head through the mirrors to a place close, but not too close, to the auction house and don their disguises.

"So the wards will trigger if we lie," Charles repeats. "So the strategy is to let the disguises do the talking?"

"Exactly," Edwin agrees. "The guard will make assumptions about what kind of people we are and why we wish to see the opal."

"Just like with the Case of the Terrible Triplets," Charles says, nodding. "So the last thing we want to do with this guy is make him think too hard about any of this or question anything, so whatever he thinks about why we want to see this thing, we roll with it, right?"

"Indeed."

Their disguises on, they walk to the auction house, getting there just before the guard is scheduled to go on shift.

Charles spots him as he's coming around the side of the building. Edwin recognizes the gleam of a gold watch on his wrist; one of Fomorac's wardpasses, he thinks. That could simplify matters.

"Hey, do you work here?" Charles gestures with a thumb at the auction house.

"Might do. What's it to you?" the guard asks, taking a rough and gruff 'I can and will beat you up' posture.

Charles just smiles brightly. "Could you get us in to see some of the auction stuff early? I know it's not normally allowed but. Hey. We could make it worth your while?"

The guard looks them over, eyes their very carefully selected clothing and the thick roll of crisp bills that has just appeared in Charles's hand.

"Right," he says. "Go round the corner, wait for the last guy to leave, I'll let you in. Five minutes."

"Oh, thank you," Edwin says, and they obediently slide out of sight until the man on day shift has passed by.

The guard lets them in the back door, leads them down a hallway and to a small room with well lit work surfaces, perhaps for examination and authentication. He holds out a hand, and watches as Charles slips bill after bill into it. Finally he folds a good chunk of them together.

"This'll get you a peek at one item of your choice," he tells them. "You damage it, and I will take it out on your hides, tell the boss you broke in."

"Perfect," Edwin tells him, ignoring the second part. "There's a harlequin opal we'd love to get a closer look at before the auction."

"Oh, right for the rare gems. Spoiling your girlfriend, then?" the guard asks Charles with a grin.

"Partner," Charles corrects without missing a beat. "My partner wants something, nothing I won't do to get it, is there?"

"And she wants this opal? It is a lovely thing. A bit overpriced, you ask me."

The guard doesn't know about the magical dimension of the auction, Edwin realizes. He believes the opal is a mere bauble.

"Nothing else will do," Charles says, shrugging. "Anything for my girl."

There's a moment where Edwin is awaiting the worst, for the wards to trigger because Charles slipped. But nothing happens.

Edwin is lost for a moment before he realizes. 'My girl' didn't mean Edwin. Charles was talking about Niko.

Does Charles have feelings for Niko? She is lovely, there is no doubt, and Edwin could not possibly fault him…

That's not important now.

The guard leaves the room briefly and returns with a small box, opening it up to reveal the large, colorful harlequin opal set on its chain. "Right, you lovebirds will want to see how the colors look against her skin, or whatnot? That's what my girlfriend is always going on about, complains I've got the wrong season for her skin tone, or something."

"All too right," Charles says. "Gotta have it in hand to know if it's exactly what we're looking for."

He picks up the opal by its delicate chain. "Shall I put it on you, love?" he asks Edwin.

There's just a beat too long before Edwin manages, "That would be perfect."

He watches Charles closely for signs of discomfort at the intimate position they find themselves in as Charles fastens the chain at the nape of Edwin's neck.

"What, have I got something on my face?" Charles asks quietly.

"Is this too much?" Edwin asks. A gesture towards the opal implies, but does not outright say, that he is speaking about the gemstone's price.

Charles just shakes his head, grinning. "I told you you’re stuck with me," he says. "Told you we've got forever, and I meant it. Still do."

He leans in closer, kissing Edwin on the cheek. Although they're in their disguises, and everything is felt at something of a distance like this, that kiss is somehow warmer than the Cat King's skin against his ever managed to be.

"Now take your time," Charles says. "We want to be sure it's right."

"Oh, yes." Edwin takes a breath, and looks down, focusing on the opal. Feeling for the flavor of the energy that sparks at its core.

It's Niko.

Edwin lets the breath out. Smiles. She is within reach.

"So is this the one you want?" Charles asks hopefully.

"Yes," Edwin agrees.

Charles starts being distracting, asking questions about the auction policies and technical things. Edwin slips a hand in his pocket, palming the replica before reaching up to remove Niko from his neck. Cupping them both in his hands before dropping Niko into his pocket and 'returning' the replica to its case.

The guard looks it over, nodding. "Pleasure doing business with you," he says. "I'll see you out."

"You've been very helpful," Edwin tells him. "You have our thanks."

They slip away into the night, with the original harlequin opal.

"Did you get it?" Charles asks. "Did we save her?"

"We have her," Edwin answers. "Removing her from the opal is another question. Dealing with the aftermath before Fomorac finds out and crushes us all is yet a third."

"Right," says Charles. "Well, one problem at a time."

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Charles barrels through the mirror into the office, home, and as soon as Crystal lifts her head, he bursts out, "Got the opal! It's her!"

A relieved smile flows across her features. "Really? She's back?"

Not knowing how to explain the rest of it, Charles turns to Edwin.

"Yes," Edwin confirms. "However, there may be an issue getting her free." He takes out the opal and sets it on the desk, sitting down in his chair.

"What do you mean?" Crystal asks. "You made a whole duplicate of that thing out of magic, right? You've got the skills to make it, shouldn't you have the skills to take it apart?"

"I have some talent at this type of spellcraft, yes," Edwin tells her. "Fomorac has far more. I know what I could find out about the construction of this stone without taking it apart; that was all I needed to know to make the duplicate. The duplicate should pass, to someone who does not know Niko as well as we do, because it is too valuable to unravel and examine the hidden spellwork inside."

"Come on," Crystal argues. "I put a spark in one of these. Let me try taking one out." She turns to look at Charles, wanting backup, but when it comes to intricate spellwork and especially Fomorac, Charles will always listen to Edwin.

Charles just winces, and Crystal sits back, jaw set.

"It's Fomorac's work," Edwin says. "We don't know what traps are built into the inside of the shell. How they might harm us, or Niko. We will see what I can do. Your powers are an absolute last resort in a case like this."

"He'll figure this out," Charles says to reassure her. To reassure them all, really.

"Let us hope so," Edwin says.

"Right," says Charles, clapping his hands to get their energy up. "What can we do to help?"

Charles watches Edwin gather himself and begin to focus, the wheels of his incredible mind beginning to spin.

"I'll need the small brown untitled volume on binding magic," he says, holding out a hand in Charles's direction. "And an adder stone."

Charles reaches a hand in his bag, and they're on their way.

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The evening drags on into night, Charles fetching a lot of books and spell ingredients and copying runes onto paper, Crystal reading through a compendium for any mention of compacted souls.

Edwin has tried three different spells.

"I thought that would work," Edwin says tiredly.

"Mate," says Charles, "you think maybe it's time Crystal had a go?"

"Please," Crystal agrees, "before I fall asleep on your horrible little sofa reading this twenty pound book."

Edwin looks down at the silent, colorful little stone.

He sighs.

"Do be careful with her," he tells Crystal, handing the stone to her.

"Yeah, I will be," she says, cradling the opal in both hands.

She raises her head, eyes going hazy.

When she blinks brown again, she shakes her head. "It's the same as the pen," she says. "I can't get to her. Like, I can feel the place where you're supposed to be able to access the power. But, I don't know, I feel like that would just be like… like turning on a tap and draining her a bit at a time. That's the last thing I wanna do."

"That was one of the things I was able to discern using the adder stone," Edwin tells her. "There is a limit on how much energy one can pull from the stone all at once. A failsafe, to prevent exactly what we are trying to do. Releasing the genie from the bottle."

Crystal presses her lips together and turns the opal over in her hands. "So if we both pulled energy as fast as we could…"

"The access would snap shut," Edwin says evenly, "if the energy inside dropped below a certain level. We would only hurt her."

"Well, we have to try something!" Crystal yells.

"Not that!" Edwin says with finality.

"God," Crystal tells the ceiling, despairing, "she's right here and we're both useless!"

"No," Edwin argues, "there has to be a way to unravel this spell. If I could just see what it looks like from the inside—" He pauses, and shakes his head at himself. "But only Niko could tell us that."

"Oh, that's real useful, then," Crystal says bitterly.

"Hey," Charles interrupts. "He's doing his best. We all are. Right?"

"Sorry. It just sucks," Crystal says. "Feels like we're getting nowhere."

"I can deduce a great deal from the outside of the wards," Edwin insists. "But not enough. The flow of magic through a spell is like a continuous thread in an embroidery. I know the shape they make on one side, and there are a limited number of ways they can be connected on the other. But with a spell of this complexity…" He covers his mouth with a hand, still staring at the opal. "There are too many ways it could be done."

Meanwhile, Charles is pacing the room restlessly. He doesn't have nearly the skills they have with magic, and this is not something he could hit with his bat—even if he still had it.

"Wish I could help more," he tells the others. "But. This is definitely another one of those 'smash the object, everything is ruined forever' situations then?"

"I'm afraid so," Edwin says with a nod.

"There goes my signature move, then," Charles says with as much of a smile as he can manage right now.

"It's a tricky situation, that much is certain," Edwin says. "And Fomorac could learn about our theft any number of ways. We don't have infinite time to figure out the trick of it."

He's right. The clock is ticking, though they have no idea how much time is left. Fomorac's organization is like an enormous machine, all gears and pendulums and delicately balanced traps. And they are all of them stuck inside of it.

Oh.

Charles has an idea. It might be a bad idea, in fact it probably is, but the other two have had their chances and in the end all it's gotten them is at each other's throats.

"So if you could talk to Niko," Charles asks, "you could figure out how to undo the whole thing?"

"Probably, yes," Edwin says, "but—"

Charles looks at Crystal. "So we could do, like, the trick from Indiana Jones."

"What?" Edwin asks.

Crystal seems to understand the idea. "Charles," she warns him, "I'm all out of spare souls."

"Well, I've got one. I mean, I am one. Use me."

Edwin frowns at them. "What are you on about?" he asks them.

Charles ignores him in favor of asking Crystal, "You think it'd be safe for Niko?"

"I think you're right that we need to keep trying new things," Crystal says instead of answering.

It's true. They're out of ideas.

"Come on, Crystal," Charles says, taking her hand, "you know you've both tried everything you can think of. Let me have my go at it."

Crystal looks down at her hands, the opal in one, Charles's hand in the other.

"Explain yourselves, now," Edwin snaps.

Charles tries to tell her with his eyes not to look to Edwin for permission, because Edwin is not gonna like this. Instead, he squeezes her hand and looks in her eyes steadily and tells her, "I'm ready, just do it."

Her eyes cloud over, and Charles feels a little tug, deep in his soul, and Charles—Charles just goes. No thought except Edwin needs his Niko.

"Charles," he can hear Edwin calling. "Charles, what — wait —"

And then he's gone under, the noises of the world gone silent like his head is underwater. Everything blank and sort of fuzzy.

It's like being stuck in Esther's orbs, except how it's nothing like that.

That was sort of like being half-asleep, tucked away for later like a bug wrapped in spider's webs.

This reminds Charles of being inside of a pastry bag, or whatever they're called, ready to be squeezed out in whatever pattern the baker desires.

And there are Fomorac's threads all around him, like the ones Charles had been terrified of touching in Niko's flat, weaving in and out of the little pocket where he exists, bodiless, helpless. Surrounded by the magic of their greatest enemy.

It's all right, Charles tells himself. He trusts Edwin, he trusts Crystal, and now, if everything has gone right, they'll have Niko's help as well.

All Charles has to do is wait.

Wait, and not drive himself mad worrying about what's happening out there. Whether Fomorac has figured it out yet and come after them. While Charles isn't there to watch their backs.

Ah.

No, it's fine. He's taken himself off the board so Niko could be there, and she's good at technical little things, Crystal is powerful, and Edwin is both, that's who they'll need out there with an experienced, subtle caster after them.

Not Charles.

He wasn't really contributing anything important.

It's his job to put himself between the danger and the others, and right now the danger is the glimmering threads around him. His job is to be here, so none of the others have to be.

But it's bleak. It's boring. And it's just a little bit terrifying.

They'll figure it out. They'll figure it out. They'll figure it out.

Or they won't, and they'll keep him safe. They won't squeeze the pastry bag and leave little bits of Charles smeared across the universe.

He's had worse. He's not hurting. He'll be all right.

Charles starts to drift in a sort of not-really-calm-but-pretending-pretty-hard sort of haze.

He wonders if he'll be in here for the rest of eternity.

Then there's another tug, and the blankness around him splinters in a burst of color, and he's standing back in the office, the others staring at him.

"We did it!" Niko cheers.

"You okay?" Crystal asks. They're both sitting on the couch, looking exhausted.

"Me? I'm aces. What about you, Niko?"

"I'm very glad not to be an opal anymore," she says.

"I cannot believe," says Edwin, breaking the celebratory mood with the hardness of his tone. "I am astounded that you would be so reckless, Charles!" He stands up from his seat at the desk, taking a step towards Charles.

"Hey, mate," says Charles. "Worked out, didn't it?"

"That is not the point," says Edwin. "You risked your very existence!"

"Oh-kayy," Niko says, standing up. "Thanks for rescuing me, I'm gonna go get boba."

"I'm coming too!" Crystal says, leaping up.

"We will be having words as well, Crystal," Edwin tells her before she escapes.

"I really am all right," Charles tells Edwin as his glare swivels back in Charles's direction.

"As glad as I am to hear that," Edwin says, "I wish you had not done that."

"You needed me to," Charles explains. "You needed to talk to Niko. Crystal had to be the one to help her through. I had to be the one to go in her place."

"It was not worth the risk!" Edwin cries, throwing up his hands. "For heaven's sake, Charles, you are not disposable!"

Charles knew he would be upset, but he'd thought Edwin would settle down about it pretty quick once everyone was safe. It was what needed to be done.

"Yeah," Charles says, "but if you'd lost Niko again? I remember how much that hurt you the first time."

Edwin grabs him by the shoulders. "You think it would be less painful to lose you?"

The desperation on Edwin's face sort of breaks Charles. The way his hands are shaking as they hold on to Charles just a little too tightly.

"Yes?" Charles answers, but that doesn't seem like a good answer. "No? I dunno, it wasn't about that, was it?"

He grabs Edwin's hands, to stop them from shaking, and because if Edwin is holding on this tight, Charles wants to cling to him right back.

Edwin sniffs. A sorrowful little noise. For the first time, Charles actually feels bad about doing what he did.

And as tightly as Charles is holding his hands, Edwin hasn't stopped shaking. Edwin is usually so steady, whatever danger they face.

"Why is this so different from usual?" Charles asks. "We do risky things all the time, we both do." He runs his thumbs across the backs of Edwin's hands, trying to ground him.

"Charles," Edwin says, and the wobble is in his voice, too. "I watched you step directly into one of Fomorac's most carefully laid traps. The most dangerous caster I could name. A prison I had already spent hours attempting to crack."

Well, when he puts it like that, it sounds bad.

"I couldn't just do nothing," Charles argues anyway, shrugging. "It was the only thing that made sense."

"I do understand the impulse," Edwin says quietly, "but never think I would wish you to trade yourself for Niko. You are both so precious to me, but when Niko died, I could go on." Edwin takes a breath. "Charles, if I lost you…" He looks Charles in the eye. "I would be done. Do you understand?"

"It wasn't bad in there," Charles says, but it sounds like a pathetic excuse even to him.

"It would not matter if you had been whisked away to heaven," Edwin insists, voice firm again. "I would be done."

And Charles thinks about that, about the two of them being separated forever.

There's something hollow, echoing in his chest when he thinks about it.

Oh, wait. Oh. That's what it means. The difference between loving and being in love.

"You have to understand," Edwin pleads.

And maybe he does, maybe Charles does understand, because playacting as a couple had felt easy. But that was just the beginning of it, really, wasn't it?

He can imagine it. Edwin safe but unreachable, gone to a calm place. Gone to the blue light, gone with Death to whatever afterlife would have been his if not for the technicality of his sacrifice.

And Charles, here without him. He'd have Crystal and Niko, he could still look in on his parents, but would that make it worth staying?

Would anything?

Eternity on Earth, but without Edwin.

Well.

His whole heart would be missing.

The meaning of everything he's been feeling about Edwin for, well, really, as long as he can remember, it all flips round. He curls his fingers around Edwin's, and there's the excitement of knowing someone as cool as Edwin, that impulse to be closer, same as ever, but they mean something else now. The dots connect to make a picture that Charles suddenly can't understand how he's never seen.

"I think I do," he says, and he leans in to kiss Edwin once, softly, on the mouth.

"Oh," Edwin breathes, all broken and feather-light, and he slips a hand around the back of Charles's neck, keeping him close.

Charles takes that as encouragement, and kisses him again.

This time Edwin kisses back, and everything changes once more; Charles's heart is full, brimming over, and he wants—

Oh, okay, he's not just in love with Edwin as a separate thing, he's, like, actually, properly queer.

He might have had a crisis about that if he'd noticed earlier, but nothing about Edwin being gay is bad, so this can't be bad either.

So he kisses Edwin a little more, savoring the feeling of it, maybe the best feeling in all his life or afterlife. He strokes Edwin's face, smiles at him softly, helplessly. Seriously, how did he not realize?

"Does this mean…" Edwin asks, and Charles realizes he hasn't actually said it yet.

"Figured it out," Charles tells him, grinning. "Finally. It was staring me in the face."

"What was?"

"What being in love feels like," Charles says. "How it's different than how I've felt about you from the beginning."

"How is it different?" Edwin asks, like he is ready to take notes.

Charles smiles at him, absolutely helplessly gone as he has always been. "It's not."

Edwin's eyes are bright, and he's looking at Charles so softly as he leans in to give him one more kiss.

"I love you desperately," Edwin says. "So can you please promise me not to do anything like that ever again?"

"Edwin," Charles says, "I can't."

"Charles," Edwin says despairingly, shaking his head.

"I can't," Charles continues, "and neither can you, don't lie, and believe me, that scares the shit out of me, but it's not gonna change anytime soon, is it?"

Edwin sighs. "I suppose not."

"But I'm always gonna come for you if you're stuck," Charles promises, "and you're always gonna rescue me, too. Hell couldn't keep us apart. You're gonna try and tell me some guy with a spellbook was gonna manage it?"

"You have far too much faith in me," Edwin tells him.

"Nah," says Charles. "Just the right amount."

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"We have a hard deadline," Crystal says, walking into the agency with a purposeful stride, Niko in tow. They are both holding enormous, half-empty cups of boba.

"What happened?" Edwin's head snaps up from his book to watch them as they enter.

"Niko figured out more of what the opal was supposed to be able to do." Crystal plants herself on the couch and looks expectantly at Niko, who settles herself beside Crystal before speaking.

"It says in the catalogue that the opal is supposed to boost powers of persuasion, right?" Niko says. "You had me describe what the inside of the opal was like, and you said it didn't quite make sense, but it must have been right, because it helped you get Charles out of the opal. So I started to think, maybe the persuasion was about more than how the opal was built, maybe it was about my powers, too."

"You have powers of persuasion?" Edwin asks, clearly fascinated.

"It's pretty subtle," Crystal says. "Nothing like the way I used to go about it. That's probably why we haven't been able to figure it out before, but it's just like a little nudge, and afterwards they have no reason to think it wasn't their idea."

"We tested it out a little bit while we were gone," Niko admits.

"And the copy isn't gonna be able to do that same mind manipulation thing it's being advertised for," Crystal points out, wincing. "I mean, the copy is powered by a manipulative little weasel, yeah, but that's not exactly the same thing."

"Right, and the auction is tonight and there's supposed to be a demonstration," Charles remembers. "Let's check through the catalogue again to see if anything's changed, the magic information updates itself, right?" He plucks the catalogue up off the desk. "Might as well give the other items a look over as well. Did you get the chance to see how it works?"

"No, Edwin just read it out for us," Niko says.

"What is up with you, Charles?" Crystal asks. "You're like a hyperactive toddler right now."

"Nothing, really." He tries to suppress a smile, and fails. "Not much."

Crystal gives him a skeptical look.

Even with the new danger, he can't make himself solemn right now. Not when every glance at Edwin comes with a new, joyful meaning.

They haven't had a chance to talk about whether to tell the girls. Probably best not to distract the agency with this right now.

But Charles is flying high. They rescued Niko again, and Charles figured out that he loves Edwin, and now he gets to kiss Edwin, which is pretty much the best thing. Yeah, they're still in the middle of a case, because they've been doing things that'll piss off Fomorac and they have to figure out what to do about that, but Charles can't help being just a bit pleased with the rest of it.

"We gotta get down to business if there's a time limit now, right?" He hands the catalogue to the girls and they open it, spread across both their laps where they're sitting side by side on the couch.

"You've gotta touch the picture and sort of pull up the second layer of the catalogue to learn about the magic stuff," Charles tells them, flipping again to the page with the antique battleaxe. "Watch this!"

He pulls out the illusion, spinning it a couple times.

"Lotta great stuff in this auction. What do you reckon?" He swings the axe a bit, testing the heft.

Crystal flinches. Niko's eyes widen a little.

Suddenly he's back in the Devlin house. Watching those poor girls and their mum get murdered over and over. Just sitting on the couch when an angry guy comes in with an axe and chops them all open.

And here he is, relishing the thought of wielding an axe. When he's got so much of his dad in him.

He drops it with a jerk of his fingers, and the illusion disperses.

"Right," he says. "Bad idea, me with an axe. Never mind then." But it's a poor attempt to laugh the whole thing off; his hands are shaking and he doesn't feel quite as solid as he'd like.

He should not be trusted with anything. He doesn't think enough before he acts. He forgets important things he needs to be careful about.

"Are you all right?" Edwin asks, suddenly close, suddenly with his hands on Charles, and Charles feels like Edwin shouldn't be touching him, he'll get Edwin dirty.

"Not really," he says, because he can't pull himself together enough to pretend right now.

"We can take a moment," Edwin says carefully.

"No," Charles shakes his head, "we really can't. We stole from Fomorac and there's going to be a pretty thorough demonstration of that tonight at the auction. We have the element of surprise now. Not later."

Edwin clearly wants to argue, but they both know Charles is right.

"He's going to be mad when the stone doesn't do what it's supposed to," Charles continues. "There's no stopping it now."

Edwin gets a thoughtful look on his face. "Yes. In fact, this might be the time to call in a favor or two. Ask for help."

That brings it home for Charles, how serious Edwin is taking this. Edwin hates bringing in other people on their cases! Case in point, Crystal! And yes, Charles knows this is bad, but this means it's really fucking bad.

"Who do you think?" he asks Edwin.

"Clarette," Edwin answers.

Ah. Yeah, if they're going to go up against Fomorac, it's probably time to call in that favor.

"She does owe us a solid," Charles agrees.

"Shall we pay her a visit?" Edwin asks Charles, and Charles doesn't know how to say yes, like he's ready to just go back out there and do his job like it's a regular day, but he can't exactly say no, either.

"I'm tired of being left out," Crystal says. "I want to come." When Edwin gives her a little frown, she asks, "What? Is she also super dangerous?"

"Yes," says Edwin, "but not to us, I should think, or anyone with us."

Niko raises her hand. "I'm also a little tired of being cooped up," she volunteers.

"She has a point," Charles says when Edwin frowns at her as well. "The opal was so boring."

He doesn't say anything about how the whole agency going together makes Charles feel a little bit less like he's falling apart.

"Fine," Edwin says with a sigh, "we can all go."

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Clarette's door, as always, opens on its own. When they step through into the empty hallway, they're whisked away to a cozy little room with no doors, a kettle on the hob and Clarette herself seated at a sturdy kitchen table.

She looks them over. "What's with the escort?"

"We're part of the agency now," Crystal tells her.

"Is it still the Dead Boy Detective Agency if it's half alive girls?" Clarette raises her eyebrows. "You are alive girls?"

"Most of the time," Niko tells her with a tiny smile.

"Well, times have changed, I suppose," says Clarette, raising an eyebrow at Edwin and Charles. "Speaking of which. When I promised you a favor, I thought you'd call it in sometime in the next few years. Not that I wouldn't see you for more than a decade after."

"It didn't make sense to use the favor for anything except getting an edge against Fomorac," Edwin explains, "but we've done our best to avoid him. He's just forced our hand."

Clarette's eyes go wide. "Oh, kiddoes. No."

"We've defeated powerful witches before," Crystal tells her.

"Not like Fomorac?" Clarette asks.

"No," Edwin admits. "But he has crossed a line, and we have fought back. We are past the point of no return. It's time."

Clarette gives the boys a look, as if asking them to reconsider. When they don't respond, she heaves a long sigh. "Okay, your funeral. So what are you asking me for?"

"The wardpass," Edwin tells her.

She stares at him for a moment. Then she seems to gather herself. "Right," she says. "I can do that. It'll only get you so far, you realize? He has to let you inside his personal wards. Fomorac doesn't trust anyone, not fully."

"That sounds like a lonely way to live," Edwin says.

"Maybe, but he's survived this long because of it," Clarette points out.

"No friends and many enemies?" Edwin counters. "I believe he's survived despite that, not because of it."

Clarette stands and rummages in a drawer, pulling out a small gold wristwatch. "You've changed, Edwin," she says. "You've grown up. And the Agency has grown. That's good."

"Yes, well. I hope Fomorac is not as perceptive as you, and he will continue to underestimate me because of my apparent age."

Clarette presses the watch into his hand. "Don't count on it," she says. "Don't count on anything. Even if you've got this lot of heavy hitters behind you, you have to know Fomorac is untouchable."

"No," Charles denies, "there has to be a way."

"His personal wards are impenetrable," Clarette warns them.

"There is always a way in," says Edwin.

"Not if he lets nothing, ever, in unless he's got it tightly under his thumb," Clarette says, looking a bit sick.

"One person cannot think of everything," Edwin says, "and we will find what it is he has forgotten to protect against."

Clarette makes a noncommittal noise. "Good luck, dead boys and new friends," she tells them. "You're gonna need it."

And a moment later they're standing in her empty hallway again.

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As they're heading back through the alley, Charles pats his shoulder, suddenly noticing the lack of the reassuring bulk of his bag.

"No," he murmurs, unable to process it at first, looking around them on the ground.

"What is it?" Crystal asks. Edwin turns back to look at them.

"My bag," Charles says, beginning to panic when he doesn't see it. "I don't remember putting it down." He turns back in the direction of Clarette's place, retracing his steps.

Edwin stops him with a hand on his shoulder and a gentle, "Charles."

Charles doesn't know if he can take that gentleness right now. "I'm all right," he says, and it sounds like a lie, even he can tell how obvious it is. He takes a breath. "I have to be all right, there's so much going on right now, I have to be on my game, and I know I suck at it right now, all right, I lost track of my bag, but I'll find it!"

"No, I'm afraid you won't," Edwin says, and his voice has gone slightly distant. Charles turns to look at him, and he's staring at the brick wall of the alley beside them.

"What?" Charles asks blankly.

"This is not your fault," Edwin says. "Fomorac is on to us. He has your bag."

"How do you know?" Niko asks.

Edwin gives Charles's shoulder one last squeeze and then walks to the wall, pointing to its surface. "Look at this spellwork," he tells the others, "but do not touch."

Crystal makes a little frustrated noise.

"You have thoughts?" Edwin asks her.

"Feelings, mostly," Crystal corrects. "I hate this case. Don't touch this, don't touch that, this is very delicate, I feel like I can't really do anything! And now this guy has Charles's bag? From what you've been saying about this guy, if anyone can figure out how to work it with limited time, it's him. So maybe it's time for speed over caution?"

"It's far too dangerous," Edwin tells her again.

"Fuck that," Crystal says. "You make him sound like some kind of untouchable monster. Like a god. And maybe you have to stop being afraid of him and just fight with everything you have."

Edwin takes a step closer to her, until they're practically nose to nose. "Not. Yet."

"Ugh!" she says, storming off in the direction of the office.

After taking a couple of quick notes, Edwin follows, and Charles and Niko trail after.

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The girls break off once they're almost at the office to pick up some food, so Charles and Edwin find a mirror and take the short way. Charles perches on the corner of the desk, looking out the window to see if he can spot the girls returning.

"Charles," Edwin says. "You've been off your game today."

"Thanks, mate, hadn't noticed," Charles says sarcastically, and then feels bad about it.

"I don't mean to keep prodding a sore spot," Edwin insists, "but I need to know if it has anything to do with what you said this morning — anything to do with us." Edwin gestures between them.

"No!" Charles says immediately, but it's not entirely true, is it? Because he has days like this, where he loses the plot and it's all turning to sand in his fingers, and he couldn't bear it if that happened to the beautiful thing that is him and Edwin.

"Would it be better," Edwin says slowly, "if we forgot about that for now, and focused on the case?"

"I don't want to forget," Charles says immediately. He pauses, just a moment, looking at Edwin. "Might be smarter, though."

He spots the girls walking along the pavement to the door, carryout bags in hand.

"Might not be the time to get distracted, and I wasn't thinking this morning, and I slipped up."

"No," Edwin argues. "You did not."

Charles knows that tone, and knows better than to disagree outright.

"All right," he says, "but I got distracted, I lost focus. Not great, is it?"

Edwin goes to reach out, and drops his hand again. Charles feels just a little bit sad.

"Are you afraid of having a relationship with me?" Edwin asks. "I have to admit, I have been intimidated for a long time about the whole prospect."

"Yeah," Charles admits softly.

"It doesn't need to change anything," Edwin offers. "And I am certainly not going to insist that you do anything you are not ready for."

"No, I know." Charles smiles weakly. "That's not it. That's not it at all."

"Then what is it?"

"I trust you," Charles says earnestly. "I always trust you. I don't always trust me. And I keep thinking what if I hurt you because I get angry or I don't think something through well enough and oh god, Edwin," he says, "I'm a mess right now, maybe you and the girls should go on without me, what am I gonna do against Fomorac without my bag, what if I just slow you down?"

This time, Edwin does reach out. He sits close beside Charles on the edge of the desk, and puts an arm tentatively around his shoulders.

"You are more," Edwin says, "so much more than what you can fetch and carry, I would hope you know this. You are strong and brilliant and brave."

Charles can hear the girls coming in, chattering to each other about their food and Niko's newfound talent.

"I don't feel brave right now," he admits.

"I wish I could make you realize that you are," says Edwin.

"Oh!" says Niko. "Now that I've figured out my powers, I might be able to help with that."

Charles and Edwin both turn to look at her.

"No dandelions this time?" Charles asks, remembering the advice from her dad that had gotten her in trouble that first time.

"No, just magic in your brain," Niko says. "Only if you want."

Charles glances at Edwin, but Edwin gives him a neutral look which says this needs to be Charles's decision.

"Yeah," he tells Niko. "Please."

She comes up beside him and looks him in the eye.

"I believe in you, Charles Rowland," she says with a little nod, "and you should, too."

Then she leans in and kisses Charles on the forehead.

He feels a little lighter.

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It's only minutes before the scheduled start of the auction when the four of them approach the auction house, and Edwin very much wishes they had more than the mere suggestion of a plan.

"Remember," he tells the others, "if you see Fomorac, avoid confronting him if at all possible. Attacking him directly will only worsen our position. His personal wards absorb most types of energy, and it will strengthen them."

Crystal sighs. "So what are we supposed to do?" she asks.

"You and Niko will be most useful in clearing the field," he tells her, "removing as many guards, underlings and potential hostages as possible from the premises. By persuasion, or by other means."

"We can do that, right, Crystal?" Niko says. "If I can't convince them to leave, you can put the whammy on them."

"Fine," says Crystal.

"Charles," Edwin says, "you have the wardpass?"

"Yeah," Charles says, holding out his wrist to display the golden band of the watch, "that's just about all I have."

"You had better also have your keen eyes and investigative mind," Edwin says. "I will need your help in getting the lay of the land and formulating a proper plan."

Charles nods grimly, and then holds out his hands for the others; they'll all need to be in close proximity to the wardpass to get through the outer wards without detection.

Edwin is on edge as they pass through the front doors, but the wards stay quiet and the guards don't immediately descend upon them, so the wardpass seems to have done its job there. And fortunately, Fomorac himself is not in the entrance hall.

"You know what to do," he reminds the girls. "Now, Charles, let us see what we can learn."

Niko and Crystal begin chatting with the people scattered through the hall. Charles and Edwin head deeper into the building, watching for Fomorac, seeking any clues that might be useful.

"You think my bag is here somewhere?" Charles asks.

"Let us hope so," Edwin says. "The auction house likely has the best facilities for storing valuable and power objects such as your bag." He turns to look at Charles. "We should head for the area where the auction items were being held."

They find their way to the room where they'd managed to swap the opal, and through the door where their bribed guard had gotten it.

The niches where the items rest are very heavily, very obviously warded. No subtlety here.

"You start from that end," Edwin tells Charles. "I'll take this end, and we'll see if the bag is here."

"Right," says Charles, and starts off across the room.

Edwin looks into each niche in turn on his end, and sees the items from the catalogue, but no bag. He moves on to the next, but before he can get far, he feels a tug of restraint close around him.

Subtlety, hiding among the flash. Of course. Fomorac must have made this one specially, it's got his personal trademark right on it. In fact, it's built like a protective ward — except the worst of the protections are facing inwards, and Edwin can't get himself out.

Edwin registers all this in a blink, and says, "Fuck."

Charles, of course, starts towards him. "What, are you—"

Edwin thrusts out a hand in Charles's direction, halting his motion. "Stay back, Charles!" he snaps. "One of us has to be free."

"It's one of Fomorac's wards," Charles argues. "Won't the wardpass take care of it for us?" He lifts his wrist to display the watch Clarette gave them.

"Not this one," Edwin says grimly. "It's a loop of Fomorac's personal wards. He'll be here soon to see who has tripped it."

"Well, I'm not leaving!" Charles says stubbornly. "Not when you're in danger."

"Hide, but don't go far," Edwin tells him. "I might have an idea. But I need time."

Reluctantly, Charles ducks back through the door where they'd come in.

From the other direction, Edwin can hear footsteps, and though it's been decades since he's been in Fomorac's presence, he recognizes that slow, even, confident step before the man himself steps into view.

He's holding Charles's bag.

"Edwin Payne," Fomorac says. "I had hoped you'd learned your lesson about getting in my way, but here we are."

"Here we are," Edwin agrees. "Because you crossed a line when you went after a member of the Agency."

"What, is all this about your friend's bag?" Fomorac lifts it. "I'll admit, it's a fascinating artifact. But really? A frontal assault on one of my strongholds just to get it back is a bit much, don't you think?"

So he doesn't know who Niko is. Doesn't know that the Agency has grown, that they've got new resources.

"I'll have that now," Edwin says, holding out his hand with a confidence he doesn't feel at all.

Fomorac laughs. "It is a bit tricky to use, isn't it?" he says. "I have to admit it's got me at a little bit of a loss. So come on, give me a hint."

Edwin smiles at the knowledge that Fomorac is frustrated enough to ask. "Have you had to regrow your own arm yet?" he prods. "Or did you use one of your underlings as a guinea pig and then dispose of them when they began to bleed too much?"

"Very funny," Fomorac mocks, and Edwin hopes he did lose his own arm to the depths of the bag. "Tell me how to use it," Fomorac demands, and the loop of wards closes tighter around Edwin.

"Charles is the only one who can use the bag," Edwin says, plainly truthful.

"Don't be silly," Fomorac scoffs. "You're the genius who duplicated my little harlequin opal masterpiece." He casually lifts the copy from its display and tilts it to one side and then the other, watching the colors shift. "Not… exactly the same, is it? But as close as you could come with… whoever you have stashed away in here." He laughs again. "I always thought you two were too soft, but you really went all out here, didn't you? You must really want the immortal I trapped." He gestures with the bag. "Come on, tell me how it works. Let me retrieve the real opal. Maybe we can come to another understanding."

Oh, he still believes Niko is trapped in the gemstone! Another point for the Agency.

"I told you," Edwin repeats, "I can't operate the bag."

"Lies," Fomorac snaps. "I know who I'm up against. You are the brains of your little agency."

"Should I be able to lie to you, in your own house, without you knowing?" Edwin asks.

"No," Fomorac says, "you really shouldn't, but it seems far more likely to me that you've somehow found a way around that, than that you don't know how to operate your little sidekick's favorite trinket."

"You underestimate Charles," Edwin says, low and angry. "At your peril."

Fomorac's laughter is far too confident. "I really don't think I'm the one in peril here," he says, and motions with one ringed finger, probably triggering a spell laid into the jewelry.

Edwin does his best not to flinch before he knows what the spell is going to do.

What the spell does is, apparently, not what it's supposed to be doing. Fomorac frowns, looking impatient.

"Where are they?" he mutters. Ah. Some kind of summons, then.

"Not everything is going your way, then," Edwin points out.

"You'll pay for that smart mouth," Fomorac snaps. "I'll be back to deal with you after I sort out some disobedient subordinates."

And those distinctive footsteps follow him out the door as he goes in pursuit of someone else to harass.

"You all right?" asks Charles, darting over from his hiding place sooner than Edwin might have liked.

"Yes, I'm unharmed," Edwin says.

"Right. How do we get you out of this?" Charles asks, gesturing at the glimmering lines of the ward.

Luckily, Edwin has been studying the structure of the spell ever since he stumbled across it.

"The wardpass will help you breach the wards that are trapping me," he tells Charles, "but only if you strike and break exactly the right part of the ward, here, between these two runes." Edwin points them out, although he cannot touch them himself. The loop of ward is inverted, turned to keep things in where the main ward is designed to keep things out. "You'll need a tool. A weapon."

"Edwin, I don't have my things," Charles says, shaking his head. "He's got my bag."

"The wardpass should allow you to pick up something new," Edwin says, and gestures to the battleaxe in the next niche over. "Those wards are far more standard."

Charles looks over at the axe, seems to register it and then closes his eyes, every part of him looking tight with tension and fear and panic.

Ah. This could be a problem.

"Charles," Edwin says carefully, "I know there is something about that axe that disturbed you when you were holding its illusion in the office. But I don't understand what."

Charles visibly swallows, and then he says, "Do you remember the Devlin house? The loop?"

"Oh," Edwin says. "Of course. You were drawn into that endless torture." He endeavors to sound reassuring as he says, "But an axe is just a tool, and Brandon Devlin is not here."

"No, it's just me," Charles says dolefully, hugging himself. "It's me I'm scared of. And I don't…" he breaks off, sighing. "You know, I keep thinking, his wife and his kids, they probably loved him, back before he killed them. In spite of everything he did. Like. A kid can't help loving their dad, sometimes. Even if they wish they didn't."

Edwin's heart is breaking for him, but they need to move. Fomorac could be back any moment.

"You are not their father," Edwin tells him. "You are not your father. I trust you."

"Maybe you shouldn't," Charles says. "I want to yell and hit and… do stuff that'll hurt people. All the time."

"You don't want to torture anyone," Edwin insists. "You just want to make them stop what they're doing. And that's not a bad thing."

"Isn't it?" Charles presses his lips together, looking very much like he is trying to keep from crying. "I want to believe you."

"Then listen." Edwin waits until Charles looks at him, and then he says forcefully, "There is no one I would rather see swinging that axe. And in our business, someone must. I love the work we do. The adventure of it. You're the brawn, and I love you for it, not despite it."

The look in Charles's eyes is hopeful, wide and longing. Then he smiles, small, but enough.

"Okay," he says. "Right. Love you too."

Charles sets his jaw, and he picks up the axe.

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As with every big event Fomorac has thrown in one of his strongholds, the wards have been pinging constantly with little falsehoods. A bidder assuring their partner that there's enough in the bank to cover whatever they might buy today and also that beach vacation she's been wanting; an insincere compliment; a promise over the phone not to be late for an appointment.

He's used to sorting through those without losing too much focus, but the moment the ward in the vault had tripped, he'd lost all interest in anything but the ghost of little Edwin Payne, caught perfectly in his trap.

He curses himself for the lapse. Things have been too quiet. Something is very wrong. There are no guards, no guests, anywhere; when he arrives in the main gallery, the room is empty except for two girls. One of them is the immortal.

"You've ruined my auction," he tells them, quietly cold. "What am I going to do with you?"

They look wary. The other girl steps in front of the immortal, which makes Fomorac chuckle.

"Well, I've got other business to take care of," he tells them. "How do you think I could capture you in a way that would actually take, little immortal?"

"We'll go with you," the immortal says. "You don't need to do anything to us to get us to come with you. We just don't want you to hurt our friends."

Fomorac narrows his eyes at her.

There's a sharp crack through his magical senses. His wards have been broken. Edwin Payne is free.

He needs to go, now.

"Fine," he says. "But if you don't, I will make you regret it."

He is accustomed to being feared. Fear does so much work all on its own to keep people in line.

These girls clearly know who he is and what he can do. He folded one of them into a magical trinket, for fuck's sake!

How did she even get out again?

There's an obvious answer, seeing as Edwin Payne is currently making himself an irritant in Fomorac's life. He'd had an undeniable talent at untangling magical problems set in his way, even all those years ago.

The girls follow Fomorac back to the vault with no trouble.

Payne and his friend are still there, studying the torn wards. That curiosity will cost them.

"You released the immortal from my opal?" Fomorac asks Payne.

"Yes," Payne agrees easily.

"You weren't after the opal to use it yourself?" he asks, raising his eyebrows. "It could have made quite the addition to your collection. I would have respected you more if you'd gone after that power."

"First of all, the last thing we want is your respect," Payne tells him. "And secondarily, Niko's power is no less available to me for having freed her." He smiles, as if he holds all the cards here, which is ludicrous. "Funny thing, if you make friends with someone, they'll come to your aid, no tiny prison necessary."

"Friends!" Fomorac laughs. "Oh, you are just as soft as I thought you were." He takes the duplicate opal out of his pocket, pondering it. "I wonder who you stuck in here and what their powers actually are. They must be very frightening if even you wanted them locked away."

A look of trepidation crosses Payne's face. Fomorac grins.

"Perhaps I ought to let them out and see."

He reaches in to unseal the duplicate opal.

"Wait!" Payne yelps, but it's too late.

As Fomorac guessed, the inside of this gem is designed for merciful sleep. He wakes the creature inside, wondering what they are, ghost or immortal or legendary beast.

Out crawls a demon.

Fomorac's blood runs cold.

He sets his jaw and steadies himself. He has layers and layers of wards, and the demon is only inside the outermost layer, the layer he uses and shapes for so many purposes.

"How the fuck did you compact a demon?" Fomorac snaps at Payne.

It's not him that answers. It's the second girl, the one who'd stepped in front of the immortal.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she says with a cold smile. "Hey, David. How's it going?"

The demon rolls his head on his shoulders. "Much better," he says. He turns his eyes on Fomorac. "Now, you're interesting. You've got skills, power, and oh, lots and lots of vices." He grins. "What a tasty treat. And he let me halfway inside his wards! Crystal. Is the girl I fell for back? Because this is a gift."

The girl, Crystal, apparently, crosses her arms and sighs. "Well, I have been getting annoyed with this crew, they won't let me do anything fun."

Fomorac is scrambling to get a hold on the situation, but here he sees a familiar, inevitable weakness in the enemy's strategy — they'd treated this girl like part of their agency, trusted her, and now she's turning on them.

There has to be a way Fomorac can use that rift to his advantage.

The demon laughs. "What kind of fun have you been missing, babe?" he asks Crystal.

"Wanna see?" Crystal asks. "Toss that magic bag over here."

The demon snatches the bag out of Fomorac's hand before he can protest, before the sentence is even finished.

"Oh, you got some mischief planned?" the demon asks, and throws the bag to her.

"Nope," she says. "Thanks for the assist, on behalf of the Dead Boy Detective Agency." And she tosses the bag over to Payne's partner.

A ploy, then? Damn.

"Tell me you guys have a plan," says Crystal.

The boy with the bag sticks his hand in, and pulls out a vial of shining silver liquid, handing it to Payne. "We do now," he says.

Edwin opens the vial, reaches down and makes two marks on the floor, reconnecting Fomorac's outer wards where they'd been torn open.

Why would—

And then Fomorac feels it. The difference.

The loop where Payne had been trapped was inverted. Made to resist escape, to hold in place, not to protect those inside.

Empty, reactivated, the loop snaps back into the main ward, only this time it doesn't revert to its usual orientation. It flips Fomorac's entire outer ward inside out.

Oh, hell.

His own personal wards, their strength turned against him. Fomorac is not prepared for this, but he has just handed Edwin Payne the tools, knowledge and motivation to pull it off.

"Payne," he snaps, "what do you think you're doing? You'll pay for this dearly."

The boy ghost pays him no mind.

"Crystal!" Payne yells instead. "It's time. Do your worst. Give it everything you have."

"Are you sure?" Crystal asks.

"Caution now, really?" Payne snaps. "Charles, a sword, please." He holds out a hand.

Charles pulls a sword out of the bag and hands it over, then hefts a familiar battleaxe himself. "Plan?" he asks.

"Attack with everything you have," Payne answers, and lunges, driving the sword point first into what would have been Fomorac's gut if not for the wards.

Sparks fly as the magic clashes. The axe joins in next, and then—

A huge amount of energy slams into the wards. Fomorac looks to see what happened, and it's the girl, not the immortal one, but instead this perplexing girl Crystal, her hand pressed against the boundary.

The wards snap into lockdown mode, reinforcing themselves layer by layer.

The immortal doesn't even have to lift a finger, or contribute her own power at all.

Who the fuck is this Crystal girl, how is she so powerful and if she's been part of the agency this whole time, why haven't they called her into play before now?

And then a question occurs to him that should have occurred to him long before.

Why are these detectives even here, if they'd already gotten the opal and done what they wished with it, freed the immortal? They should have run the moment they got their bag back, if not long before.

He'd taken the bag to keep them from running with the opal.

It never occurred to him that they were here to actually fight him.

How could they even imagine such a thing? He's far too well protected. This might slow him down, but he's taken every precaution. His inner wards are totally secure.

Aren't they?

The outer wards thicken and flex, as they were made to do under stress.

The power flow presses Fomorac's outer wards up against the demon with so much force, he's smashed into Fomorac's inner wards. Then, slowly, through, like garlic in a press.

It would kill a human, destroy a ghost. But a demon?

A demon, apparently, oozes through a bit at a time and then reforms inside Fomorac's inner wards. His skin crawls with the feel of it.

"Fuck," says the demon, as his head regains its shape, "how is this worse than being buried alive?" He grips Fomorac's shoulder to keep upright as his torso oozes through and re-forms. "Wish I'd never laid eyes on you, Crystal!" he yells.

"The feeling is mutual!" she yells back, from an outside world that sounds increasingly distant.

"What the fuck did you do?" the demon asks Fomorac.

Fomorac is currently asking himself the same thing.

These children tricked him! Trapped him, in his own house, with his own wards!

And they never once pinged the building wards as having told a lie.

The immortal's power wouldn't register as a direct attack to his wards if she never lied.

And the wards continue to thicken, to reinforce themselves. Fomorac knows how unbreakable they are. He built them himself.

He built them himself.

Someone will return, eventually, seeking his services or his permission or his money, and find him trapped here, perhaps try to free him.

But he's forgotten more than most witches ever learn. And his habit of secrecy is decades upon decades old, and firm.

Whoever comes for Fomorac will come because they need him for something. Will they even be able to free him?

"I doomed myself," Fomorac mutters.

"No shit," David says, and vomits on Fomorac's shoes.

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"That should hold for a good long while," Crystal says, "my family sure like it better than keeping David trapped up here." She taps her head.

"Fitting," says Edwin. "This is where Fomorac keeps dangerous and powerful things locked away."

"Poetic, innit?" Charles says, grinning.

Edwin wants to kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him. He only doesn't act on it because he remembers a moment too late that he is actually allowed now, and by then the conversation has moved on.

"We put them in a jar together," Niko is saying. "Like Kingham and Litty!"

"You're not going to call these two cute, are you?" Crystal asks.

Niko contemplates David and Fomorac thoughtfully.

"No," she says. "That's true, the sprites were much cuter."

"You detective kids are messing everything up!" Fomorac yells, muffled behind the thickness of the wards.

Niko smiles brightly. "This is just like the end of an episode of Scooby Doo!" she says. "Hey. What do you guys think about getting a dog for the agency?"

"Absolutely not," Edwin says without hesitation.

"Aww, but it'd work better this time, wouldn't it?" Charles says with wide, earnest brown eyes. "With alive people around to take care of it?"

"You won't wear me down," Edwin tells him.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do to convince you?"

Charles is smiling now, and the mischief in his eyes gives Edwin pause.

"Such as?" Edwin prods, against his better judgment.

Charles slides into his space, twining his arms around Edwin and leaning in.

Edwin gives in to the kiss, and he thinks perhaps there is actually nothing he can possibly deny Charles if he will just keep doing this.

"Wait," Crystal says, pointing at the two of them. "Did I miss something? When exactly did this happen?"

Charles gives her a crooked smile. "When you went out for boba," he admits.

"I told you!" Niko announces gleefully to Crystal.

"Yeah, all right, so I owe you dinner." Crystal shrugs, not looking particularly unhappy about it.

"Can we go get dinner now?" Niko asks.

The girls leave for dinner, happily debating between Italian and Thai.

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The boys take a mirror home.

Edwin lets out a gusty sigh and sits down in his chair.

Charles perches on the corner of the desk. "So. Case closed?" he asks.

"One case closed," Edwin tells him. "One very large can of worms opened."

"How do you mean?" Charles asks, tilting his head curiously.

"We've made ourselves not just well known detectives," Edwin muses, "but also perhaps the most prominent supernatural authority in the area, and that may invite problems."

"We'll deal with them," Charles says, his confident self again, or at least better able to pretend. "We always have."

Edwin knows him better every day, even after more than thirty years. Charles could be frightened, or angry, or sad, and he would still try to put on a brave face for Edwin, wouldn't he?

And this is big. There were many beings in Fomorac's organization that will have to find a new way to organize themselves. The Agency will be dealing with the fallout for a very long time. In ways Edwin is certain he cannot even begin to imagine.

"Everything is changing," Edwin muses aloud.

"That's not a bad thing, is it?" Charles asks, reaching for him, and where once he might have just jostled Edwin's shoulder in a friendly way, today he curls warm fingers around the back of Edwin's neck, and his thumb plays idly through Edwin's hair.

"No," Edwin says, thinking of all the good things. The relief that Fomorac is no longer out there, waiting to pounce the moment they make a wrong move. Without him, the possibilities of the future shape of supernatural London are limitless. "Not at all, really. But it is… intimidating."

Charles's hand stills. "Does that include me?" he asks. "Am I too much? Am I moving too fast?"

"Charles," Edwin says softly, reaching up to cup his cheek with a hand. "You are the one part of this I have no qualms about at all."

"None?" Charles is smiling, but there's something a little fragile about it.

"I never want anything less than all of you," Edwin tells him. "All of you. Bright, and angry, and brave, reckless, fierce, hurt, all of it. It all looks like love to me."

Charles's eyes are wide and shining, and he melts into Edwin, kissing him deeply, gently, hungrily, like a worshiper in both his fervency and his care.

Edwin pulls Charles the rest of the way into his lap, holding him, cradling him, like the precious thing he is.

Loving him.

In general, Edwin is wary of change, but anything that means he and Charles get to touch each other like this is more than all right with him.