Without delay, Raf and Morgan collected equipment and readied two horses for a day trip. They remained silent, barely acknowledging each other as they rode away from their castle home.

  Castle Moondial was built on top of a stone peak that islanders called the Gnomon. Going to Church meant descending the Gnomon, traversing the woods, and riding through Harbor. Riding horseback on a bright, beautiful morning lifted their spirits, and for a short slice of time, they were free. The ocean wind whistled over the cliff, and a buzzing insect danced in the breeze. Morgan was loath to break the spell of the moment, but it was the perfect opportunity to speak without risk of being overheard.

  "You've hardly spoken since Father said you're the Holy Ghost," she confronted the issue directly. "Talk to me. What's our plan here?"

  For a moment, Raf only stared forward resolutely. She was afraid he might not even answer.

  "Did you know?" he finally demanded, turning to meet her gaze. She winced but didn't look away.

  "Of course not. I figured you were the reason Rowan stayed with us, but I never guessed you were the Holy Ghost."

  He clenched his fists and then released. "Hm."

  The whistling wind sang on leaves in the trees not far ahead. Morgan couldn't stand the awkward silence any longer. She said, "Look, this is crazy. You didn't choose any of this, and I know you don't want war. Talk to me. What are you thinking?"

  Raf's eyes watered, but he didn't cry. "Rowan must have planned this before I was born," he shook his head. "Summoning my spirit into this body, uniquely positioned to get close to Adam one day. I suppose it's all going according to plan. If Adam makes me Steward of the Vulpen Islands, he'll come to anoint me personally. That's when Rowan strikes... It's simple. It could work. If we fail, Adam will kill us all, but I already knew that. Nothing has changed, really, except now I know the why of it. Right now, the most important thing is dealing with Timothy. He weirds me out. And this assignment worries me. It's like he wants us out of the castle. Even the mission makes no sense. Rowan is the only fae on the island, and they aren't killing anyone, right?"

  Morgan shrugged. "Far as I know. So either the fae and the killings are unrelated, or there's another fae we don't know about. What makes Timothy think the killer is fae, anyway?"

  "The files don't offer much evidence. Just the coroner's reports and records of tidal waves." Raf reached into his satchel and pulled out the scroll. "Here, give it a look," he said, handing the scroll to her. "Steady your stomach. The details are gruesome."

  They entered the forest and fell silent as Morgan read the reports.

  On their left, mountainous peaks formed the Spine of Crescent. A lush forest sprawled over the interior valley. Most crescenters lived near the waterfront, but many tribes dotted the woods and peaks, preferring to live in wild isolation. Thieves and bandits could be hiding behind any tree. Even the wildlife might be familiar spies. Morgan and Raf couldn't speak candidly anymore for fear of being overheard, so they kept a brisk pace in the woods, silent and alert, reaching Harbor by midday.

  The largest city on the island, Harbor was crafted on a platform of lumber, with houses built in the trees. Vibrantly tended gardens grew down and around the platforms. Flower petals fell like colorful snow from the canopy gardens above, carried away on the ocean breeze. On the wooden streets, people bustled along with places to go. Twice, someone recognized them and shouted congratulations on Rafael's victory in the Perigee festival. They waved and carried on. By the time they arrived at Church, the sun was high and the heat intense.

  Church was the only stone building in Harbor, a cathedral slab of marble overlooking the city waterfront, like a giant headstone in a forest. It was constructed with classic Garden overtures, towering archways, and stained glass portraits of the Holy Mother and Father. Adam had all the materials shipped in from Garden thirty years ago when the islands surrendered. Upon His 'discovery' of Vulpex, most functions of state, news, education, and medicine were consolidated at Church.

  Churchyard, the vast acreage surrounding Church, was razed and landscaped to resemble an oversized theater. The steps were massive and many, intended to double as rafters, so that when Adam visited the island, everyone could come to witness.

  They secured their horses and began the hike up and down the churchyard steps to the main entrance.

  In the past, Captain Reynard often took Morgan and Raf along on assignments, so they were already familiar with the area. Churchyard was grand and crowded with petitioners and faithful zealots, bustling back and forth with places to go. Exotic flowering trees decorated the paths and gaps between buildings. Churchyard's loveliness antagonized Morgan's simmering rage. She abhorred the church but smiled in case anyone was watching.

  The mortuary was in the basement of a white marble building with gorgeous stained-glass windows; images of God 'blessing' Adam were ubiquitous throughout Church.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  A dead-eyed receptionist waved them through to where the bodies were kept. Cold and dimly lit were the halls. The stench of death radiated off every surface. White flame sconces decorated the walls. On one side of the room were two stone slabs. A stiff corpse rested on one slab, partly embalmed. On the other side of the room was a single desk. The desk was made of marble, like the bookshelf behind it, like everything else in the building. Otherwise, the room was sterile, without decoration or evidence of human activity.

  "Hello?" Raf shouted down the hall. "Is anyone on staff?"

  From around a corner, they heard feet brushing against stone. Soon, an unusually tall man appeared in black robes. His hair was black, and his jaw was sharp. There was a coldness behind his green eyes, but his voice was a warm and comforting hum, like a song that sticks with you.

  "Welcome to Crescent Mortuary. Call me Shaman Kroeser. How can I help you?" Everyone in the Church had familiars. Kroeser's blackbird familiar was perched on his shoulder. It cawed a greeting to them both.

  "I am Rafael Avalyn. This is my sister, Morgan. We have orders from on high. Brother Timothy believes a fae murderer may be on the island. I'd like to see where the bodies are kept. If any unusual bodies have come in lately, please show me those first."

  Kroeser responded slowly as if he were considering their inquiry while preoccupied with something else. "A fae serial killer? Wow! You know, there is one body you might want to see. It came in only yesterday. Unusual... is one word for it. I finished the autopsy and put him on ice this morning. Follow me. I'll show you." With that, Kroeser turned and went back the way he came. Morgan and Raf exchanged glances and followed him down another flight of stairs and through a door. The air froze as they walked into an icy, rectangular room. Morgan started shivering immediately.

  It was a freezer with bodies on waist-high marble slabs like the room upstairs. Some of the bodies looked as if they had been frozen for a long time. Shaman Kroeser stopped in front of one corpse with dozens of circular purple welts along its waist and arms. Massive chunks were cleanly carved out of the neck and shoulder. The collarbone was severed, exposing the spine, ribs, and lungs. Ink covered the body, staining the muscle and marrow jet black. Morgan and Raf exchanged breathless, knowing glances.

  "Where was the body found?" Raf asked Shaman Kroeser.

  "On a riverbank downstream from a cave. It seems he was spelunking when he encountered something that leaves purple suction marks and cleaves through solid bone."

  The implication was obvious: cthulians. The oceanfolk were rarely seen off the island coast. The Land and Sea Treaty forbade them from ever touching land again or else war. Adam let them live because hunting them all down underwater would be almost impossible. Or at least time-consuming. But if a cthulian broke the treaty to kill a human, Adam might change his mind.

  Morgan spoke first. "It could have been staged. Tools could have been used to imitate the carving wounds. Even if the ink is genuine, someone could have captured a cthulian and extracted it from them."

  "This needs to be handled discreetly," Raf said with quiet authority. Rafael Avalyn was young, but his name, training, and unique magnetism somehow elevated him from an impetuous princeling to a formidable, imposing commander. "Morgan and I will investigate the cave he was exploring to look for tangible evidence. No sense involving the Holy Father without something concrete. In the meantime, keep the body on ice."

  "Have more bodies been found like this one?" Morgan asked. Shaman Kroeser looked at her and paused like he considered ignoring her question. Instead, he curtly responded, "No."

  Morgan took a step toward the shaman and spoke directly. "We're investigating a series of possible homicides. Your records describe six bodies that washed ashore over the last 3 years. Each with similar wounds, death by exsanguination, is that right? My brother and I would like you to show us those bodies, please."

  Shaman Kroeser's face contorted into a surprised snarl. His response was quick and breathless. "I can't show them to you. They couldn't be identified, so they were buried in unmarked graves behind the church."

  Morgan was stunned and confused. Kroeser's reaction was oddly suspicious. Did he have something to hide, or was he withholding information just to spite her? She feared anything she said might be met with derision by the shaman.

  Raf jumped in, "I'm sure you know that the church shares public records with the stewarding family. I'm sure there's no need to involve any church elders. Was any investigation conducted as to the victims' identities or whereabouts when they went missing?"

  Shaman Kroeser shifted his weight uncomfortably. Then he walked to a cabinet, opened a drawer, and fingered through scrolls until he found the one he wanted.

  He opened the scroll and seemed to skim its contents, saying, "One of the forensic brothers asked around. It seems one victim was known as Pika, a vagabond who slept under the docks and was known for thieving. No known origin or next of kin could be found, so the investigation was closed, quick and tidy. The brother concluded Pika was likely killed in retaliation for some theft or offense." Kroeser looked up at them with a charmed expression.

  "Would it be possible to exhume the body?" Raf asked.

  "As I said, the graves were unmarked, so you're welcome to dig out back, but there's no guarantee you'll unearth the right body." Kroeser tilted his head and blinked several times. "I fear there's nothing more I can do for you."

  Morgan felt rage erupting in her. She wanted to smash in Kroeser's smug face. Morgan wondered if it was Raf's rage or her own. He was about to react in anger, but Morgan had another idea.

  "Thank you for your time, Shaman Kroeser. If another exsanguinated body washes ashore, keep it on ice and alert us. We'll see ourselves out."

  Raf hesitated. His jaw clenched, but he kept his composure, nodded a farewell, and turned to leave. Morgan wanted to scream and punch something, but they kept calm, walking back to their horses. Once safely out of earshot, Raf said plainly, "Kroeser is hiding something. I assume you have an idea."

  "Either he's hiding something, or he's just an asshole, but yeah, I got a plan. Kroeser gave us a name and location. Let's ask around the docks if anybody knew Pika. Maybe it won't lead anywhere, but there's still a trail. Let's see where it leads."