Martin quickly made his way across town to the designated warehouse. He and Jacques had wasted little time scarfing down a quick meal of meat and bread while hashing out the final details of the plan. The faceless servant would bring the corpse directly to the warehouse and return to another safe house. Martin would proceed directly there, place his dagger in the corpse’s hand, and then make his way to the second floor where the door controls were located. Jacques, meanwhile, would begin tailing the servant of the Beautiful Goddess and would act if she went off path or somehow found the chapel.

  The warehouse was just one of many scattered around the city. As Martin approached, he could see it was a bit more worn down than many of them, with a couple of windows broken and weeds popping up here and there on the path. Despite this, with the giant steel shutter down, it looked as secure as if it had just been closed earlier today and was waiting for the break of the new day to open up for new business. A smaller, human-sized door was located just to the right of the main entrance. As Jacques promised, it had been left unlocked. Martin took a quick look around to ensure no one was watching before entering.

  The remaining traces of daylight filtering in through the windows cast shadows throughout the nearly empty warehouse. There were a few barrels and crates pushed against the walls. Jacques had told him that this warehouse was used by the Faceless for storage of some larger or less valuable goods, but hadn’t elaborated on what. Martin turned to look up and behind him, and saw the trap Jacques mentioned. It was a solid steel gate, designed to stop robbers. With a flip of a switch located on one of the second-floor platforms, it would come crashing down, keeping any would-be thieves from escaping through the front. He turned back to look at the far side of the building, and he could vaguely see something slumped against the wall. He took a few deep breaths.

  Elisia. Elisia.

  Proceeding warily, he made his way to the other side of the building and found the corpse that had been left for him. He was some kind of vagrant, judging from the looks of him. His clothes were dirty and threadbare, and even though caked with blood, he could tell it had been a long time since he had a proper wash or shave. The entire left side of his skull was caved in, and already the flies were gathering. Martin didn’t want to think about how the servant had managed to acquire this body, or how he managed to get it to this particular spot.

  Martin muttered a quick prayer for the deceased and summoned his Faceless dagger.He took one more look around, half afraid the police would be bursting in to catch him red-handed, before crouching down to place the dagger in the dead man’s hand. He hurried away quickly to find the ladder near the door. Once he made it to the second-story walkway, he hoisted the ladder up after him, preventing anyone from following him. Jacques mentioned there was a second way out—an escape to the roof somewhere in the corner from here—Martin would take that as soon as he pulled the switch.

  Navigating quickly in the rapidly fading light, he found the control box Jacques had described and entered the key he had been given to unlock it. A single metal switch reflected the dim light. With a flick, it would bring the gate above the door crashing down, locking Jacques and the woman hunting them in the dark. The gate wouldn’t open again until there was a second corpse on the floor or Jacques had made his escape.

  The remaining daylight finally slid away, and Martin could hear the lamplighter pass by on the street, igniting the lamps. If he noticed the door of the warehouse was ajar, he didn’t care. His job was the streets only, and those were dangerous enough without inviting trouble from other areas. Gradually, the faint light from the stars that was still visible between the smoke of Alderbridge’s factories and the gaslight of the lamps began to appear, just enough to illuminate the door.

  Martin sat there for hours watching, watching, and breathing.

  Elisia. Breathe in.

  What if something had gone wrong? What if Jacques was already dead and the chapel on fire?

  Elisia. Breathe out.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  No. Jacques was a veteran of these kinds of skirmishes. He wouldn’t be foolish enough to get caught. Surely there was some other reason for the delay.

  Elisia. Breathe in.

  But what could it be? Did the woman have backup? Had they been betrayed by someone? Why had she come to Alderbridge in the first place? What if she knew the location of the chapel all along?

  Elisia. Breathe out.

  No, no. Jacques had stressed more than anything that this was just a small thread of a far larger tapestry than Martin could make sense of. Surely there was not that level of machination going on here in a small chapel in one of the largest cities on the planet. Jacques would be here, and soon this hunt would be—someone was here.

  The door creaked open, and a massive shadow was visible. It was human-shaped, but it was by far the largest human Martin had ever seen. The shadow took a step into the warehouse and stopped. It was wearing a dark trench coat that draped down to the floor. It wore a wide-brimmed hat, perched atop black hair that fell in a flat bob ending just above the collar. In the dim light, Martin couldn’t make out the face, but it looked like it was staring straight at the corpse. There was no movement for a moment, but then the shadow began to move its head, looking around the warehouse.

  It started from the left and slowly scoped out the entire place. Eventually, its whole body twisted as it looked behind it, looking up and locking eyes with the security gate. From there, it followed the chain up to the second-floor walkway and then, inexplicably, to where Martin sat in the dark, huddled next to a switch that suddenly seemed less like a trap for a killer and more like a switch to his own execution.

  Martin held his breath. Silence reigned for a few more seconds, and then, a feminine laugh cut the silence.

  “Quite the welcome this is,” the shadow said, her voice low and deep, penetrating every corner of the warehouse with a deep bass that seemed to shake Martin to the core. With a speed that defied her size, she jumped what had to have been at least ten feet, grabbing the bottom of the security gate. With inhuman strength, she brought the whole thing down with her. Martin sprang back away from the mechanism as the whole thing was ripped away as the chain was dragged down with it. The gate crashed down, twisted and bent, but still strong enough for its intended purpose—keeping everyone inside. Unfortunately for Martin, that meant him and the woman inside, and Jacques out.

  Martin wasted no time scrambling to his feet and making his way to the skylight exit Jacques told him about. He made it about three steps when he stumbled as the entire walkway shook. He glanced back to see that the shadow had made it halfway up the ladder in a single leap and was about to clear the rest of the height in her next jump. He turned and resumed running. The platform shook again, even harder as the woman landed on the platform, but Martin didn’t stop to look back. He rounded a corner and made for the opposite corner. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman make another leap, this one carrying her clear from the right side of the walkway to the left side. She was clearly intending to cut him off, and would likely succeed if the walkway didn’t collapse first. The impact from her landing was enough to knock Martin to his feet again, and he could hear the groan of the steel stretching from the impact and the sharp pop of rivets being propelled from their sockets. The woman seemed to sense this too, as she refrained from another leap and started to leisurely walk toward the corner of the warehouse Martin was headed to.

  Left with no other choice, Martin struggled back to his feet and began to run again, hoping desperately he could at least outrun her on foot. The woman made no effort to increase her speed but instead began to reach for something in her jacket. Just when Martin thought he was about to make it clear, a sudden flash of sparks ignited in front of him as something hit the railing and the sound of a gunshot split the air. Martin stopped immediately and turned to look at the woman. She still hadn’t changed her pace, but now she was clearly holding a revolver aimed at Martin’s head. It looked comically small in her oversized hands, but Martin had no doubt a blow from that would be enough to end him.

  “There’s a good lad,” the woman said. “I do hate toys like these, but they do have their uses. Inquisitors get curious if I smash a skull with my bare hands. A bullet to the head, however, and nobody asks any questions.”

  The woman gradually rounded the corner, and for the first time, the light illuminated her face. She had small eyes—far too small for the amount of face she had—and her smile seemed absolutely fake. It reminded Martin of Dillion’s, but somehow far worse and far more unnatural. His mind instantly began to conjure up images of the kind of monster that would be capable of such feats of speed and strength, yet still be able to crawl inside human flesh and masquerade as a woman. He tried to stop himself from going down that inescapable rabbit hole and cast around for a means of escape.

  The woman stopped several feet in front of him. The pistol, having served its purpose, was put away.

  “Now, faceless rodent. Let’s have a chat about which hole you crawled out from.”