Evantra sat upright in Caliburn’s medical bay.

  She experimentally flexed her right leg, and smiled slightly when she wasn’t met with excruciating pain burning a path up her thighs. She gingerly felt at her ribs and winced. Her eardrums were numb, but her acuity had returned after the treatment. Caliburn’s on-duty doctor had informed her that they would be tender for another one or two days.

  To her surprise, they had afforded her Panacea’s mid-level treatment upon returning from the raid. It seemed as if her potential value as a Ghostslayer candidate had shot up since returning alive after being stranded in the lost territories – albeit at a distance fairly close to the military boundary.

  “Evantra! How are you?”

  Clark Hallewell greeted her with as bright a smile as always, waving to her as he entered, trailed by Guinevere. The man laid a palm on her shoulder, offering a hand which she accepted to stand to her feet. It seemed like Clark had come away unscathed from the raid, likely having been overseen by both Lancelot and Galahad, knowing his eagerness to participate in a battle.

  She turned to Caliburn’s infiltrator, who was once again dressed in her casual attire. This time, Guinevere’s smile was just a teeny bit wider, as the woman nodded to her. Stephanie inclined her head towards her bandages.

  “Quite the adventure, I hear. Using a poltergeist’s territory to evade the Veilcreatures. Well, you won’t be getting out of training.”

  Evantra’s stomach dropped as Guinevere’s smile widened, and Clark began to laugh.

  ***

  She watched as Lancelot expertly mixed a cocktail from behind the bar in the Ghostslayer’s multipurpose hall. In the brief time she had been aboard the Spirit of Nimue, she hadn’t glimpsed the man in the Ghostslayers’ quarters – likely attending to whatever crucial business Caliburn had assigned their lead Ghostslayer to.

  Guinevere’s “training” ended up being more of a trial than anything else. She gulped as she watched Roderick – Lancelot – pour an obscene amount of alcohol into her glass in a deadly cocktail. She glimpsed Steve and Galahad chuckling deviously under their breaths, their eyes lingering on Evantra’s tall glass. Guinevere just graced her with one of her slight, serene smiles that Evantra could only hope to emulate one day.

  Cruel and heartless, every single one of them.

  Lancelot picked up his own glass after he finished garnishing her cocktail with a practised flick of his wrist. Unlike the other onlookers, his expression was noticeably more subdued, and Evantra wondered if the man ever allowed himself to let loose. This was probably as close as he came to it.

  Clark cleared his throat.

  “Ahem. We’re gathered here today to celebrate our newest recruit’s first expedition into the lost territories,” Clark stroked his full beard, his eyes alight with mischief. “Not only has she returned to us alive like none of us would have expected—”

  Evantra stared flatly at Clark as Steve erupted into uproarious laughter.

  “—she managed to do so after carving through the Veilwankers between the target site and the checkpoint. Brushing up against a poltergeist of all things. Give it up for Evantra Wraithmarked!”

  A spattering of clapping and a piercing whistle from Steve followed Clark’s words. Evantra felt her cheeks heat as her gaze lingered on Guinevere, who greeted her with a rare smile that she seemed to be relinquishing a little more frequently since Evantra's return.

  Evantra felt her guts twist at the woman’s expression, recalling what she had done during the raid. Seeing her injured, pursued by an enemy operative, and abandoning her to her fate. If she had to guess, Guinevere had managed to link up with Caliburn after stemming the bleeding and losing the strange figure that was tailing her. Invisibility did have its perks.

  Evantra greeted the Ghostslayers’ applause with a sardonic smile, ensuring that her expression betrayed none of her internal conflict.

  “No thanks to you lot. Leaving your recruit in the middle of the lost territories to fend for herself.”

  None of the Ghostslayers blinked an eye, Clark and Steve erupting into a second round of laughter. Even Lancelot let out a chuckle under his breath.

  “Trial by fire, lass! If you aren’t fast enough to keep up, you’re down and out for the count. That’s how megacorps move. For the record, none of us were worried about you in the slightest,” Steve gave her a hefty wink. “We knew you’d manage it.”

  Clark interjected, pushing forwards with his drink held high.

  “Now, in celebration of a successful raid, and in official recognition of our newest novice Ghostslayer, we christen our success, and grant her a pretentious nickname like the rest of you twats!”

  Clark and Steve roared with laughter with such fervour that Guinevere sitting beside them had begun to look embarrassed at her proximity to them, taking a quick sip of her drink. It was clear that the alcohol was getting to the pair of them.

  “Mordred would suit perfectly.”

  Elaine Hallwell’s voice cut through the din like a blade, the Ghostslayers rising to their feet at her appearance. This time, the woman was dressed in a shimmering white dress that flowed over her skin like water. It gave her the appearance of being eternally caught in the moment of emerging from a serene pond, the liquid pouring along the contours of her body, leaving nothing to imagination.

  Evantra couldn’t care less, her eyes latching onto the woman’s ears. Ears that had clearly undergone bionetic enhancement, which gave them an uncanny likeness to the features of the figure she had encountered.

  “Mordred, the betrayer,” Evantra stated matter-of-factly, watching the woman’s lips, now painted a dark purple, curve into a smile.

  “You are familiar with Arthurian legend, I see? I thought it was fitting. You certainly wheedled your way into my brother’s favour, along with the rest of our slayers. An orphan girl, of little value—”

  “Bugger off, Elaine!”

  Clark grinned at his sister, slurring his words ever so slightly.

  “I like it.”

  Elaine paused at Evantra’s words, a frown creasing her unblemished, pale forehead.

  “Ambition, cunning and the will to take what’s yours. Surely those traits align with Caliburn’s corporate values,” Evantra said, with a hint of a teasing smile.

  Elaine let out a bright laugh, this time, free of artifice. The woman seemed to relax a degree, gracing her with an expression that was a touch less anxiety-inducing than the usual. A smile of mischief.

  “Oh, I see why they’ve taken to you. I like you, girl. I expect big things, Mordred. But betray us, and the fate that awaits you will be as is told in our myths,” Elaine pursed her lips, her eyes sliding to Lancelot behind the counter. “Now, I wouldn’t want to hold you back from your reward,” Elaine looked at her expectantly as Evantra frowned in confusion.

  “Mordred, Mordred!”

  Clark and Steve had their hands around each other’s shoulders as they chanted, egging her on to take her drink. With a deep breath, Evantra seized the glass that Lancelot had prepared for her and chugged it down. She felt the intermingling of different spirits burn her throat, making her eyes water.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  She gently laid the glass down on the counter, smiling back at Elaine, who now wore a genuine grin on her face. Elaine gave her a nod. Steve and Clark erupted into cheers, and she watched Stephanie roll her eyes before returning to her drink.

  “Congratulations, Evantra.”

  A soft voice spoke from behind her. She turned to nod towards Roderick, behind the bar.

  “And welcome to the team.”

  ***

  “Now comes the hardest part,” Roderick said, seated to her right. Stephanie had taken a seat to her left, the woman’s eyes lingering on Steve and Clark who had absconded to the gym section and were now attempting to drunkenly bench press more weight than should have been humanly possible.

  “Your cybernetic speciality.”

  Evantra’s breath caught at the words, and her eyes widened.

  “So, there is something that fazes our little traitor,” Guinevere said dryly, a hint of a smile evident. “Don’t mind Elaine. The names are to embarrass us. Clark is right, they’re ironic, wouldn’t you say, Lancelot?”

  Roderick winced slightly before granting her a reluctant nod.

  “Little ribbing exercise, at least with Clark and Elaine. Arthur, their uncle, takes it a little more seriously.” Lancelot’s expression darkened, and Evantra got the distinct sense that Clark and Elaine’s uncle was a degree less grounded than the siblings were. Evantra listened on with bated breath at the mention of the patriarch of the Hallewell family. If his first name was anything to go by, it certainly seemed like he took the Arthurian codenames seriously, or at the very least, his parents had.

  “That aside, any ideas on which direction you’d like to take? Your first speciality is a big one, and defines your style given the expense.”

  Evantra hummed, tapping a finger to her chin.

  “Frankly… invisibility would be nice, although…” she trailed off, and Guinevere simply nodded her understanding.

  “It’s invasive. That’s putting it lightly. Of all the enhancements, it’s what changes your appearance the most dramatically. You don’t think about it twice until you’re on the surgeon’s table. We’re all attached to our appearance a little more than we think we are,” Stephanie trailed off, her eyes lingering on her forearms.

  “Even if you can mimic what you’d previously lost… it’s never the same again.”

  Evantra’s eyes widened in surprise at her understanding, and the lack of ridicule, even given that it had been the woman’s own choice of a cybernetic speciality. She watched as the black, cybernetic skin of her arms abruptly turned beige, effortlessly mimicking her skin tone, before returning to its original hue.

  I always thought that there was something limiting her from turning the other areas of her skin into her skin tone… it seems like she keeps it that way for a reason.

  Maybe it’s a reminder.

  “If it’s the infiltrator route you’re aiming to take, optics could be a good option. Even though you’re a good shot, you’ll see gains in practically every domain. Hand-eye coordination and reaction time gains. What do you think?”

  Evantra twisted her lips and considered Roderick’s words.

  “Or…” Guinevere began, turning to raise an eyebrow at Lancelot. “I’m sure Clark would help you get your hands on the real special stuff. That would shoot you up to [elemental] rank on your potential alone.”

  “Special stuff?”

  Roderick and Stephanie exchanged a look, and Evantra watched as the woman simply shrugged, before continuing.

  “How much do you know about the different types of cybernetics out there?

  “Not as much as I should…”

  Evantra frowned as she thought back to her encounter with Uriel. The pair of glowing optics that had somehow managed to wipe out an entire swarm of teethlings with a glance.

  “I know that they aren’t made equal.”

  Stephanie scoffed.

  “That’s putting it lightly. There’s a reason why not every Ghostslayer walks around with the cybernetics used by the big guys. There are, of course, concerns around the loss of humanity, empathy, or the self. The cognitive load that it imposes on them, which can drive people to insanity,” Guinevere said quietly, pausing to look down at her skin. “Not everyone is built equally.”

  Evantra waited patiently for Stephanie to return her attention to her before she delivered her question.

  “But surely that doesn’t account for the whole reason for their rarity. After all, people have sacrificed more for power,” Evantra winced as her words escaped, but Stephanie only greeted them with a nod.

  Stephanie and Rod exchanged a grin.

  “Why don’t you give us your hunch?”

  Evantra shifted in her seat, instantly regretting her curiosity.

  “Cost, that much is obvious.”

  Evantra stared at Stephanie as she took a sip from her martini before gesturing for her to continue.

  “The quality of the materials which go into their construction. Paying for the procedure of installing them. Compounded by resource scarcity caused by the Veilsurges…” Evantra shrugged, indicating her confusion.

  Stephanie picked up from where she left off.

  “Compatibility. The most complex and powerful implants necessitate special calibration. But even then, there are limits to calibration. Every individual is different, and some implants can only be calibrated and adjusted so far before it becomes impossible to match them to the individual. That is especially the case for the most onerous of implants.”

  Evantra watched Stephanie’s lips draw into a smile.

  “Unsatisfied with the explanation?”

  Does she have cybernetics capable of reading my mind?

  “Prohibitive material and installation costs and compatibility constraints… that doesn’t explain—”

  “The unique implants,” Rod completed for her. “The one-of-a-kind cybernetics so powerful that you would imagine that the corps would find a way to get around the limitations to produce them at scale, no matter the cost.”

  Evantra gulped, nodding amiably.

  Lancelot and Guinevere exchanged a smile. Stephanie continued.

  “Good, you’re thinking critically. Some of them are too powerful not to replicate. Whatever the true reason is… it isn’t privy to peasants like ourselves. But as I was suggesting… you’re Clark’s favourite. That’s an esteemed position to hold, and if you expressed your interest, he could see about finding a bespoke implant for you. One that isn’t usually on the menu, if you get my meaning.”

  Roderick nodded, standing to his feet along with Guinevere.

  “The most terrifying Ghostslayers aren’t those that do it for a living, Evantra. They aren’t career Ghostslayers. They’re the ruling class. The elite. The executives with ownership. Enough wealth to move mountains and megacities, to replace every part of their bodies with bespoke equipment,” Stephanie said, staring into her drink. “Irrespective of… alleged compatibility constraints.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if there were Ghostslayers of [seraphim] rank and above in our midst, far into the ghost ranks, who we are totally ignorant of. Silent monsters,” Lancelot nodded his agreement.

  Evantra nodded slowly at Stephanie’s words, mulling them over. It was true that Clark had provided her with a foot in the door and a great many opportunities.

  My abilities might negate any immediate need for cybernetics, and my finances certainly make them a distant possibility. Still… even if I have no intention on following through with Caliburn, I should speak to Clark about them.

  I have my suspicions about these ‘one-of-a-kind’ cybernetics they mentioned.

  And I know just the person to speak to about them.

  “In any case, you’ve got the next couple of days off. This little celebration was for you, but we’re holding a Barge-wide celebration for the successful raid in a couple of days. Until then, you’ve got the time to yourself. Mull your decision over in the meantime, I don’t think you’d have much success having a meaningful conversation with Clark right now,” Stephanie smirked, casting another glance towards Steve and Clark. The two men were now attempting to perform weighted squats while holding their drinks, and succeeding.

  “Go make yourself scarce until then. I’m pulling you into training if I catch you wandering around, got it?”

  Guinevere’s eyes bore into her, and Evantra returned an even nod.

  ***

  Evantra looked out over the junkyard as the shuttle carried her down towards the “ferry” terminal Caliburn had established. Her lips were turned downwards into a slight frown.

  She was confused.

  Something about the raid hadn’t added up.

  If their objective was obtaining the mistheart artefact that I consumed, why would they be celebrating a “successful raid”?

  Our assumption was that the ritual was fuelling their search for an artefact…

  Were they after something else in the ruins?

  The only alternative I can think of is that they’ve diverted in search of another artefact – that is – assuming that the artefacts are their objective. But they retreated too quickly for that to be the case. Not to mention, all the Ghostslayers were accounted for – so they couldn’t have split off from the group. At least, not while I was still with their detachment.

  Maybe all of our assumptions were wrong – and the trove seeker has some other purpose. In which case, our whole theory falls apart.

  Evantra’s mind hovered on the trove seeker catalyst notification she had obtained while in their office. Something about Caliburn’s goals wasn’t adding up. Then, her mind turned to Guinevere’s words to her.

  As much as she seems to have warmed up to me, it’s clear that she’s still keeping an eye on me. If she catches me sneaking around the barge on my days off, I’ll be in big trouble.

  It looks like the raid celebration will be my next big opportunity to investigate.

  I need to speak to Noelle about this.

  After a short walk to the entrance to the junkyard, she watched a small hatchback pull up by the curb. By the time she had cleaned up and had her initiation celebration, the morning had arrived.

  Carmen Alvarez yawned as she stepped out of the vehicle, hair tied in a haphazard ponytail.

  Evantra grinned, setting her thoughts aside for the moment.

  “Miss me?”

  “Actually, I’ve had a very relaxing couple of days. Stay on board, pain in my culo,” the woman muttered, before she ran up to her and enveloped Evantra in a tight hug.

  “I was so worried, Eva.”

  Evantra closed her eyes, arms tightening around Carmen as she fell into her embrace.