“I need your help to kill Guillaume.”

  Well, didn’t that come as a surprise.

  Faint crackles of static echoed in the back of the Harpy’s voice as it spoke the words that should have gone against Rule Number One of its mental conditioning. In spite of the debilitation it was currently facing, Henry got the sense that it was savoring those words to their fullest. While he could empathize with that, it left one very big lingering question.

  How? The whole thing shouldn’t even be possible.

  No. Wait. Walk that thought back. That very line of thinking only ever led one place. There were only ever a few constants in Hallow London, but any remaining survivors learned quickly to abide by one in particular.

  Expect the unexpected, or pay the price later. Being willfully ignorant was a great way to get yourself killed.

  So, ruling out this being impossible… means that what we’re dealing with is just unprecedented.

  Henry wasn’t sure if he liked that conclusion more or less than the previous one. Probably less. It didn’t take much to grow sick of surprises when each one could cost your life.

  So. Time to break this down to a point where he understood it. Exotic Domain magic, clearly, was the culprit once again. Just the same as probably every other phenomenon within the Shroud. Ill-defined as their boundaries were, there were points where one ended and another began.

  For instance, there was Layla’s devil magic. He was a little... hazy on the upper bounds of it, but from what he'd seen it was pretty self-explanatory. Wherever there was fog – so, practically everywhere – she had a degree of control over it.

  At first, survivors had been ecstatic. Common belief was that she might finally be the one that could open an escape route for the remaining trapped humans. In the few short nights after, she had gone from a semi-prominent figure among the folks working under the Landed Nobility, to something of a local legend. After all, if she could manipulate the fog around her, and the Shroud was at its core a ridiculously dense wall of fog, then logically it stood to reason that she could control the Shroud, right?

  In practice, not really. Sure, in testing she’d been able to skim a bit off the edges and use it just the same as the rest of the haze, but actually carving a path through it?

  You’d have better luck draining an ocean with a teaspoon. Something - likely another Exotic Domain - had visibly resisted her efforts each time she tried. And shortly after that, Henry had inadvertently discovered how his own magic protected himself from Guillaume's. So, as a working theory, Exotic Domains generally steered away from interacting with each other if at all possible.

  Perhaps that's what's happening here...?

  Could be, but best not to assume right away. Henry needed some answers.

  “Okay, as happy as I am to hear that from you… You’re going to need to clue us in a bit more on what just happened first.”

  “I don’t have time to explain,” said the Harpy. “I need to know if-”

  “I know you want an answer,” Henry interrupted. “But I need some assurances myself, too. Because, in the absence of a more complicated explanation that fits the current situation better…”

  Squatting down, he rested a hand on his chin. “… I have to assume this is some trick the old bastard put in your head before he left.”

  For a brief moment, the Harpy said nothing. Simply weighing the ultimatum against the urgency they were apparently feeling the squeeze from.

  Almost a foregone conclusion, at that point. If you need something done now to prevent something worse later, matters of cost tend to get thrown out the window. And his asking price was lower than most he’d had the displeasure of hearing when he was in the reverse roles.

  “…Fine. But all I have right now is my own guesswork, not anything concrete.”

  “No worries, that’ll be plenty for now. Out with it, then.”

  He made himself comfortable on the ground. The Harpy propped itself up against the tunnel wall, wings splayed wide. The occasional twitch still rocked through its system, but nowhere near as violently as before.

  “This is a… recent discovery, but… I think whatever magic that keeps Guillaume from controlling you is… what’s the word… transferable? No, that’s not quite it…”

  It hummed slightly as it pondered a proper turn of phrase. “The best way to describe it… is that it dampens it a bit over a short distance. If the source gets closer, the dampening gets stronger, but until now-”

  Huh. Guess he was on the right track after all. That didn't usually happen.

  Henry could see where this was going. “Until now, it hasn’t been enough to overcome it entirely?”

  “Quite. Though, even this feels like it will only be temporary. The, ah… system in place is currently trying to shout me back into line as we speak. And it’s getting louder every minute.”

  “...Okay... Circling back for a minute, is this what you were preoccupied with for that bit in the train?”

  “More or less. Though, it wasn’t until I had to airlift that copy of yours that I connected the dots myself. I don’t… move my own body, exactly. My thoughts request a course of action, and if Guillaume’s Domain magic finds no issues with the request, it executes it on my behalf. When that magic went silent for a brief moment, I nearly tripped.”

  Layla chimed in, trying to follow along. “So… what, because he was right next to you, it lost signal for a bit… and this is some sort of extreme version of that? Wouldn’t you have been closer to him before than you were just now, though?”

  Henry shook his head. “It accidentally prodded the crystal when it turned me around. Slightly different encounter, and nothing else was happening to it in the moments leading up. So, in all likelihood, that’s our culprit right there.”

  Layla hmmmed noncommittally. She tilted her head to the side, resting her cheek on two fingers as she gave the explanation some thought.

  As she pondered, Henry couldn't help but get a close look at her face, something he hadn't been able to do for months now. Some part of him couldn't help but jump on and point out the myriad little details as they were revealed, and while the thoughtful silence carried on, he found himself momentarily distracted.

  He’d seen a lot of faces in his time working for Randall. It was common knowledge by this point that over time, you learned to pick up on moods from people’s expressions. But less known was that that was only the tip of the iceberg. With enough practice, the baseline became just as telling as the looks they gave you.

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  How they carried themselves, what was on their mind, more subtle cues, they all pointed to their general current state of being. Layla was one of the faces he’d seen the most of, and because of this even the faintest sweep of his gaze would have painted a rather telling picture.

  There were as many differences as there were similarities. Staring into those blue eyes always brought back fond memories of the past, but now some of that shine was hidden under the recent addition of a heavy layer of cosmetic makeup.

  A mix of powder blue eyeshadow and glossy black eyeliner. He almost asked where she’d managed to find some, or why she’d changed her mind on it. Before the first Witching Hour, she’d often complained that she hated the way stuff like that made her face feel dirty all the time.

  Closer inspection showed that it wasn’t being worn as a vanity item, but instead to draw attention away from the eyebags that were still faintly visible beneath the surface.

  And yet, that wasn’t the most striking difference. Somewhere along the line, she’d picked up a facial scar, too. A thin streak like a cross that followed the contour of her jaw, terminating just short of her lips. Faded in a way that implied it was old, or perhaps healed in an accelerated fashion. But decidedly not removed completely.

  God, she looks like a whole different person... but...

  In spite of the weight of the world, she was doing her best to stay strong, if he were to guess. To be a leader, or perhaps a hero that the people around her wanted to see in her. Slowly burning the candle at both ends due the simple fact that she couldn’t be everywhere at once, that not everyone even could be saved.

  But those who depended on her didn’t know that. Couldn’t know that. For their sake, she’d hidden herself as best she could behind her title. Hidden herself behind The Shroudwalker.

  Part of him wondered if he could have done the same. He strongly doubted it.

  Finally, she stirred, and Henry hurriedly met her gaze again.

  Finished with her pondering, Layla brought up a second question. “Okay, then… that’s great and all, but didn’t Number Four here mention this was probably temporary? Wouldn’t that mean you’d have to be in contact for pretty much the whole time we’re down here until we get back? Otherwise, Guillaume would get control again and we’d be back to square one.”

  The Harpy shook its head, a sound reminiscent of a cough filtering through its rebreather. “No, that won’t be necessary. Matter of fact, it’s best if we don’t risk doing that. I don’t want to accidentally find out the hard way that my mental blocks have adapted to compensate for the interference, like I think it did earlier.”

  “So… what’s the plan, then?”

  “The controls don’t fight me unless they have to. So long as I can play along with the pre-programmed directives he’s given me, there shouldn’t be a problem. If you both play along as well, then we’ll be able to get close enough to the man to pull this trick a s-s-s-s-second time.”

  Its voice started glitching like a broken record. Evidently, time was running out.

  Henry took a quick look at Layla. “What do you think? Sound like a plan to you?”

  “Weren’t you the one that was skeptical about this at first?”

  “Well, yeah, but that was before I got the whole story. I’m feeling pretty confident that this is legit now.”

  “Does pretty confident mean absolutely certain or you might be wrong?” Layla arched an eyebrow knowingly.

  “Just… trust me on this one? Please. For old time’s sake.”

  Her brow furrowed at that particular remark. Might have been a bad turn of phrase, in hindsight.

  But, with a slight sigh, she moved past it. “It’s not a bad plan,” she admitted, “But I’m not quite sure how I’d be able to fit into it without causing problems. The Club and the Nobles aren’t exactly known for being friendly towards one another.”

  “That’s a simple m-m-matter to resolve,” the Harpy said, handwaving away the concern. “So lon-n-ng as you openly give out a surrender and behave like a pris-is-is-isoner, it will slip under the radar-r-r-r.”

  “Ugh…” Layla grimaced. “Even when he’s not here, he still somehow manages to be an absolute control freak…”

  “Feeling… mutual…”

  Its twitching began ramping up again, forcing both of them to take a step back to avoid being accidentally sliced by the wings. Painstakingly, the Harpy groaned with exertion, trying to maintain control for just a moment longer.

  “You… in… or… out?”, it managed to forcibly vocalize.

  Layla looked between the Club’s right hand and himself. Unsure of whether to follow along or not. She chewed her lip nervously, weighing the pros and cons of both. Looking back to Henry, it’s apparent that she’s still on the fence about the whole thing.

  “…Please,” he urged. “I owe them one, anyway.”

  She took a deep breath in, exhaling as she turned to face the Harpy, she gave her decision.

  “Fine… let’s do it.”

  It couldn’t respond, but as soon as it had heard her word it jerked to a standstill. Just like it had a few minutes before, it slumped down, entering standby as control was reestablished.

  Like the blip had never happened to begin with.

  “So… now what?”

  “Just, uh… stand back and wait, I suppose?”

  With no other obvious options, they did as he suggested, waiting for their ‘captor’ to start moving again. Layla moved to the far side of the tunnel and sat down in the gravel with a huff, seemingly questioning what she had just gotten herself into.

  Minutes ticked by slowly while they waited. Every so often, an odd movement could be seen from the frame of the Harpy, sort of like a knee-jerk reaction that encompassed the entire body. Jerky movements like stretching an arm out to the side, or the wings repositioning led to multiple false starts that Henry reacted to mistakenly.

  Fortunately, neither of them had to wait too long. With the sound of turbines roaring to life, it finally rose back onto its feet and flexed its hand in a repeating pattern. Like it was running diagnostics on itself.

  With a hawklike stare, its gaze snapped in Henry’s direction. “Report,” it commanded succinctly.

  Showtime…

  Henry cleared his throat and did as he was told, mindful that he probably needed to walk on eggshells a bit now.

  “Well, ah, good news first! We managed to escape the cursed Domain that train had. Ehhh, sorry about the rough landing, by the way…” he scratched the back of his head sheepishly as he admitted fault.

  A move that didn’t provoke even the slightest reaction. “Given the circumstances… your methods are acceptable, if not reckless. Now, what of after our arrival?”

  The question caused him to tense up for a moment. He had a suspicion as to why it wasn’t turning him to bloody strips for openly stating his intent to backstab them earlier, but it was best to confirm these things and not assume.

  “...You sure? I mean, uh, don’t you know more about it than I do?”

  “Apparently not. There is a… gap in my memory that cuts off shortly after our arrival. It is most disturbing.”

  His mind raced to determine a valid excuse. “Well, uh, no offense, but… You did get hit pretty hard by our prisoner here…”

  “Prisoner?”

  Henry stepped aside and gestured toward Layla. Her hood was back down on her head, and both arms were behind her back between the frame backpack and the tunnel wall.

  “Put up a tough fight, that’s for sure,” he elaborated. “But she’s being cooperative now. Didn’t have any restraints on hand, so, uh..”

  He patted the recently acquired holster on his hip. “I’m improvising a little.”

  His heart rate rose. As much as hiding a weapon appealed to him, he simply could not afford to cast any more suspicion than he already was. Better to fess up now before it caused problems down the line.

  A staredown ensued between the two of them. If the attempt was to intimidate him into confessing something, however, that just flat out was not going to happen.

  He was not going to let this one chance pass him by, now that it had shown up.

  Thankfully, the Harpy finally backed down. “Seeing as we are down a few more members than I would hope for… she will be your responsibility to watch over. Consider yourself lucky that capturing The Shroudwalker will go far to smooth things over with Mr. Dufresne."

  "I can't believe this..." Layla grumbled at Henry, only partly acting. "First working with the GC, then using me as a bargaining chip to save yourself..."

  He didn't respond to the jab. What could he say that wouldn't make things look worse?

  "Search the surrounding area," the Harpy commanded. "Find where the rest are. We’ll need everything we have to reach Liverpool Street from wherever we-”

  “Wait, Liverpool Street? As in, the station?”

  “Yes, why? I realize that it wasn’t mentioned earlier, but I thought you’d have figured it out by now considering who we’re likely to antagonize.”

  “No, I get that! But I scouted around a bit before the fight broke out, and it’s just down at the end of that tunnel. About two minutes walk, not even any traps!”

  “What?!”

  It spun around to look past the train, but the fog down that way was too dense to see the exit from where they stood. Whipping back around, it shifted its weight ever so slightly, unfurling its servo-arm in a not so veiled threat.

  “You better be correct about that.”

  “Dead serious. Willing to stake my life on it.”

  “That doesn’t mean much coming from you.”

  “True,” Henry openly admitted, “But I’ve got my own reasons to stay invested in this aside from the threat of dying, anyways.”

  He pointedly did not look in Layla’s direction as he recalled Guillaume’s threat for failure to play along.