Fur and claws flew around Benedict as he darted between two of the werewolves. He fired as he passed, striking the beast in the shoulder and prompting it to pull away, then he shoved the muzzle directly onto its skin and squeezed the trigger. It growled and screamed, flailing its arms about and striking Benedict in the chest, then stopped moving completely.

  Amalyn landed next to him, fresh blood along her glaive’s blade, and stared at the masked man. “Is your name Fandal?”

  The masked man used his bell again. Benedict spun on his heels, firing on instinct. Every shot missed, and a claw slammed him into the wall.

  “Is Fandal here?” Amalyn pleaded while thrusting her glaive through another werewolf.

  Wild, constant rifle fire pushed a werewolf back, gripping its chest where the multitude of bullets struck. Another series of shots mauled its arms and gave Benedict the opening he needed. With a kick off the wall, he darted toward Amalyn. A werewolf slammed her to the ground and roared. Benedict drew the cross and threw it. Conjured blades ripped through the flesh on the monster’s neck.

  Without waiting to see the result, Benedict pivoted to the masked man. Not fast enough. An energy bolt spanned the space between them in an instant, slamming into Benedict hard enough to push the contents of his stomach into his esophagus. He rolled, and his rifle flew away from him. Another bolt flashed past, followed by a werewolf diving onto him. It didn’t expect the sword that plunged into its chest.

  Amalyn screamed. Two werewolves held her down, one closing in with its open maw. Benedict called the cross back and reared back to throw, but the wounded monster pinned his arm and torso under its claws. There they stayed, under the monster’s hateful glare, yet it refused to finish him off.

  “You’re the ones who almost killed Luca,” the masked man said, voice low and gruff.

  Benedict cursed under his breath. That must have been the bell ringer in the alley. It escaped Celica’s spell, after all.

  The masked man continued. “I must admit, I didn’t expect only two of you to put up such a fight. Milady would be pleased to have you with her instead”

  “We’ll never have anything to do with her!” Amalyn spat.

  “You don’t know what she can offer you, young lady.”

  “Poison! That’s all anyone like her can offer!”

  He bent down near Amalyn and moved her hair aside to examine her face. Benedict tried squirming and pushing against the werewolf’s grip. It kept him pinned so tight its claws dug into the stone beneath.

  “I see the resemblance now,” the masked man said.

  “Tell me where he is right now!” Amalyn demanded.

  “You’ll see him if you join us.”

  “Never!”

  “I am under no obligation to tell him his sister is dead.” He raised the bell. “Just a single command, woman, and you either die or walk free. Walking free ensures you will see your brother again.”

  Amalyn wasn’t looking Benedict’s way. Maybe a little dose of Morighana’s power would help—just enough to get the werewolf to back off. He tried maneuvering for a better position.

  “Move further and I kill her anyway,” the masked man growled. “You certainly don’t want that, do you?”

  With all that Morighana’s power helped him do, Benedict was sure he could use it to accelerate himself fast enough to kill the masked man first. He just had to figure out how to do it.

  Light flashed above, followed by a crack of thunder that left Benedict’s ears ringing, but the pressure on his body let up. He didn’t wait to see what was happening. His rifle was a few steps away. Slipping a boot into a crack, he pushed off hard right toward the weapon. Fingers wrapped around the rifle’s grip. A werewolf dove on him with claws extended. Bullets blasted into its face and chest.

  Then Benedict turned his attention back to the masked man. Bullets impacted the walls, and his quarry retreated. Benedict continued firing. Blood spray stained the wall before the masked man turned the corner. Chaos reigned around Benedict as everyone—Astei’s party included—fell upon the werewolves. In just over a minute, the last of the monsters lay in the street, none of them whole any longer.

  Amalyn charged past, darting around the corner where the masked man had turned. Benedict followed, ready to give her any support she might need. He lowered the rifle when he spotted their quarry on the ground, slumped against the wall. The bell lay many feet away, unstained by the blood slowly pooling around the body.

  “Tell me where he is!” Amalyn shouted, holding her glaive to the man’s neck.

  “I think he’s dead, Amalyn,” Benedict said.

  With a single kick, the body flopped over like a sack of meat. One of Benedict’s bullets sliced right through the carotid. Amalyn yanked the mask off. The man couldn’t have been older than Benedict, yet odd cracks ran across his face.

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  “It’s not him,” Amalyn whispered, relief in her voice.

  “How can we tell your brother from the others?” Benedict asked.

  Tears welled up in Amalyn’s eyes. “I don’t know. Not without pulling the mask off.”

  Benedict grabbed the coffer on the body’s hip and checked inside. Not one healing or stamina potion, but multiple strange tools. He drew one out—a handheld lens—and examined it. When he held his thumb over a tiny gem in the handle, the world through the lens changed. Dark tendrils like some ancient, dangerous magic came out of an surrounded a spot on the wall. He put the item back. That was suspicious, but Celica should have a look first.

  “The formula in this bell is insane,” Celica said.

  The others had arrived. Kirion gave a healing potion to Benedict while Ordra consoled Amalyn.

  “Does this happen every time one of your party goes off alone?” Astei asked.

  “Only sometimes!” Celica shouted before going back to the formula.

  “This seems like a wealth of information, however,” Shiyo said.

  Benedict held up the coffer. “And a good number of tools.”

  “I believe that means Celica has more work to do,” Ordra said.

  “This could take hours.” Benedict shook his head as Celica snatched the coffer and bounded away.

  “Go on without us,” Ordra said to Astei.”

  Back in the tavern, Celica drew out every tool from the coffer—two dozen in total. All Benedict could do after that was wait and stand guard with the others. When Celica had figured everything out, she’d tell them.

  Night fell, and Celica still wasn’t done, despite having looked through every tool’s formula at least twice. A notebook lay before her, along with three different thaumaturgical reference books and several of the tools, each of the latter with their formulas floating above them.

  “This is hopeless!” Celica complained as she flopped her head on the table.

  “That looks confusing,” Amalyn said.

  “At least a quarter of these runes just don’t exist in any of my books. For example, this is the part of the formula marking the Source. There are standard markings here that I recognize, but those are mainly structural. Everything else is a complete mystery. How can there be a Source that no one knows about? The College released their compendium last month with everything updated, and nothing on a new Source. Then there’s this section, and this, and…”

  Celica continued pointing out entire sections of formula she didn’t know. Thaumaturgical theory came through her lips so fast that no one could follow her. They probably wouldn’t have been able to follow her anyway, but the speed of her speech didn’t help matters.

  Finally, Benedict placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, maybe you should take a break. Get a drink and some food. The tools won’t run away from you.”

  “I have to know!” Celica retorted.

  “Get some rest,” Ordra ordered.

  “You’ll do better with some distance from the problem, dear.” Shiyo rubbed Celica on the top of her head.

  Celica’s stomach rumbled. “Maybe I could use some food.”

  “I’ll find you something,” Kirion said as he walked to the counter.

  “The situation hasn’t changed, so we’ll continue with our original plan,” Ordra said to Benedict.

  “We may have bait now, though.” Benedict rubbed his chin in thought. “If one of them checked around and happened to, say, find the body of a comrade, they would certainly want to take it back to their lair. Am I wrong?”

  “Or they’ll revive it.”

  “If so, we’ll work from there.”

  “I like this idea!”

  A large hand slammed into Benedict’s back. He stumbled forward, barely managing to stay on his feet.

  Ordra walked past him as if nothing happened. “Benedict and Amalyn have given us a great opening. Instead of running around the city looking for our quarry, we’ll use the body of the man they encountered as bait. More likely than not, a friend of his is sure to retrieve him, showing us exactly where we need to go.”

  Shiyo looked at him with a skeptical eye, then at Benedict. “You want one of us to lay low near a body to see if his friends come by? As if they wouldn’t be wary?”

  “I’ll be the one doing the watching,” Benedict said.

  “You won’t do it alone. I’ll go, too,” Kirion said.

  Ordra nodded and spread a map before him with each word, he inscribed directly onto the parchment. “Under normal circumstances, your worry would be correct, but the adventurers don’t come here at night. If they’re used to it, there’s no reason to expect a trap. Everyone will spread among the rooftops. One will watch over the body while the others watch for anyone who might spot us. No need for us to let our guards down.”

  The opening of the front door interrupted everyone. Astei walked in with his party trailing, all sporting some level of gore on their faces and clothing. It was likely the hunt had been kind to them. They likely had quite the amount of spoils in their coffers.

  “How goes your hunt, friends?” Astei asked.

  “Nonexistent,” Amalyn said.

  “Did Celica figure anything out?” Daena asked.

  Celica shook her head. “Nothing substantial.”

  “Maybe tomorrow will bring hope.” Astei produced a monster’s horn from his coffer. “You missed a big score today. Come. Night falls. We need to get back to the canopy.”

  “We aren’t going,” Ordra said.

  “You what?”

  “We’re staying here tonight,” Benedict replied. “An investigation.”

  Tirra looked over the group. “Are you all in agreement?”

  “We appreciate any insight into what goes on after nightfall,” Ordra said.

  Astei grit his teeth. “You’ll have no way to get back to the canopy in the event of trouble, and the dangers multiply here at night beyond losing sight.”

  “What can we expect?”

  “Something that can destroy your entire party in mere moments.”

  “If you can be more specific, I’d appreciate it. We know already that you don’t come here at night, and we believe our enemy might be using that time to revive monsters.”

  “If they are, that would explain the assassins,” Daena said.

  “Assassins?” Amalyn asked.

  “At the start of this problem, multiple parties did go out at night,” Tirra said. “They consistently came back with at least one dead, and there were nights we lost entire parties.”

  “Dangerous times,” Klugen groaned.

  “I lead the last night expedition,” Astei said. “I was the only survivor merely because I was able to fight the assassin off. He was strong and fast, faster than I ever would have expected. I was fortunate to escape.”

  “Initial rumors spoke of the assassins possibly being Wraiths,” Tirra added.

  “Is there any truth to that?” Shiyo asked.

  Astei shrugged. “I didn’t see anything to indicate that. Not even I would survive a Wraith by myself.”

  “Special assassins… they truly are hiding something that happens at night,” Kirion mused.

  “It’s too dangerous to continue with this fool plan. Anyone who doesn’t want to die can come with us back to the canopy.”

  “We took down a dreadlord together,” Shiyo said.

  “I have all the confidence in the world in my comrades,” Ordra said.

  “You all head back. We’ll bring our report in the morning,” Benedict said.

  Astei’s growled. “I’m not subjecting my party to such danger.”

  As they exited the tavern, Tirra turned back and flashed a V with her fingers and a small, worried smile with her lips. Then they were gone, disappearing into the waning light. Benedict went back to the table and grabbed a pencil. Assassins needed to be accounted for, along with their possible angles of attack.