After the first few dealers arrived at the apartment and received less that warm welcomes, they stopped showing up pretty quickly. It hadn’t taken more than a couple of days for word to get around that Brycen Galloway was out of business. He’d been able to question them, but he didn’t have the practiced hand that Brannoc did…or frankly the stomach for it.

  The best he could hope was that he’d scared them enough to get them to stop selling the stuff on the streets, but he doubted it. If his new palace of an apartment said anything, it’s that business was far too good to just walk away from.

  Four days after his fight with Brycen, it seemed the drug dealer well had run dry. Late into the afternoon, Greg activated a crystal near the wet bar to play some music and grabbed the book he’d been reading before collapsing on the soft leather again.

  Earth was wild, but recorded history on his planet was barely six thousand years. Etheon had been taking account of events five times that. He’d just started reading about some dictator named Vilrut that had conquered Etos, the continent southeast of Ashoria, when a light knock sounded at the door.

  He tilted his head, peeking around the cover to wait for the little slip of paper holding the order from the dealer to slide under the door. It didn’t. Thirty seconds later, they knocked again, this time just a bit louder. Maybe Maeve was finally coming by? He threw his legs off the couch and tucked the last drug order into the book to save his page.

  Grabbing Light Drinker, Greg moved over to the door and cracked it open. The silver messy bun and icy blue gaze was not what he was expecting on the other side.

  “No way, send her away.” Isabella growled in his head.

  Greg had half a mind to do just that, but there was a tiny bit of him that was curious. He slowly opened the door, but left his body in place to block her from the entrance. He raised one brow and waited quietly for her to speak.

  “You’re not dead.” Seraphae tucked in her bottom lip and glanced at the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it. I was busy with…”

  “I know what you were busy with.” Greg said flatly. If he hadn’t seen it himself, he would have heard it by now. Lux Noctis and the remainder of the crime families being taken out in one fell swoop was the talk of the town.

  “I’m sorry. Doran and I really didn’t want to do it. Kael was able to get a couple of visiting adventurers to go in with us, though.” She sighed before straightening up and steeling herself. “I came to apologize for the deceit and not being there when I told you I would be.”

  “You’ve done that.” Greg nodded at her. “That all?”

  “I..” Her light pink lips turned downward as her brow furrowed. “Have I slighted you some other way?”

  The corners of Greg’s mouth turned up just slightly in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you for the apology.”

  “I am…confused.” Seraphae shook her head. “You’re upset with me about something else?”

  Greg let out a little chuckle. “Apologizing doesn’t make anger disappear, Seraphae.”

  She looked down at her feet for a moment, then back up again at him. “You’re not mad at me.” The words slid languidly from her lips, tickling his ears like tiny butterflies.

  “Shut that hussy down now!” Isabella snapped at him.

  Greg’s eyes started to lose focus, but he blinked it off and shook his head. “And this will be the third time you’ve tried to mess with my brain.”

  She froze, eyes flicking back and forth between his. “You knew? How?”

  “Didn’t the first time.” Greg smirked and shrugged one shoulder. “Not gonna happen again, though. Thanks again, Seraphae.” He stepped back and tried to close the door.

  “Wait!” She stuck her foot out to block it. “That’s not how this ends. The Mother won’t allow it.”

  Greg laughed this time. A hearty belly laugh he’d only felt with Maeve on this planet. “Won’t allow it?” he reached up and scratched his chin. “Did the Mother Below tell you to go digging around in my free will?”

  Seraphae’s face scrunched up but she didn’t reply.

  “I didn’t think so. You tell your mother that if she needs a word, I’m right here. They won’t be coming from you anymore.” Greg toed at her boot with his bare feet until she moved it back and he slammed the door in her face.

  “Well done,” Isabella said. “Hopefully she stays away.”

  “I certainly hope not,” Greg said, turning and flopping over the arm of the couch. “She’s my only link to this god. Unless The Mother Below is gonna come up here for a chat, I’m pretty sure I’m going to need her.”

  “You’re guilt tripping her?”

  “Exactly.” Greg grabbed his book again and opened up to the page he’d stopped at.

  “Why? What can you possibly gain from her being in your orbit except for more attention from the gods?”

  “More attention from the gods.” Greg shrugged. “They’ve not been very forthright with their intentions, so if I dangle one of their kids out there maybe they’ll let me know exactly what they want.”

  “You’re insane.” Isabella countered.

  “You’re an errant soul that hitched a ride in what amounts to my corpse. I don’t wanna hear shit from you.”

  ###

  Removing one alchemist from the city did not seem to relieve her of the problem. If anything, as the days passed, Greg heard more and more tales of Frost kissed attacking Gifted. Rhobair was suffering, and as much as it made him sound like some cringe superhero, he needed to save her. Obviously he’d never say the words out loud, even alone. His piggyback soul would never let him hear the end of it.

  “This might be a stupid question,” Greg started, hopping the fence to the old park where Doran, Kael, and Seraphae had saved his ass from the horde of Frost kissed. “But why are these things such a threat? Just numbers?”

  “Numbers, sure. You also need to remember that not all Gifted are fighters.” Isabella said. “As much as sweet Maeve wants to believe the Gifted are all monster-killing adventurers, that’s not so much the case.”

  “Okay, but they’re Gifted. They’re still going to be more powerful than your average person.” Greg kept his voice as loud as he comfortably could as he walked through a dilapidated playground.

  “Certainly, but not all gifts are combat orientated. It’s like comparing Muhammad Ali to Julia Child.”

  Greg grinned and looked up, as if he was going to be able to see her loose soul hovering over his shoulder. “Earth reference. Nice. You don’t talk about it much.”

  “No, I suppose I don’t.” Isabella hummed, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. “To be honest, I don’t remember much. I lived here for two hundred fifty years. I was only on Earth for a few decades.”

  Eyes scanning the edges of the park, Greg grabbed the detached leg of what had once been a swing set and started tapping it against anything metal he walked by.

  “Did you have a family?”

  Isabella was quiet for just long enough to make Greg think he’d crossed some sort of boundary before answering. “If I did, I genuinely don’t recall.”

  “That’s…” Greg frowned, glancing down at the sand beneath his boots. Would that be him one day? Would he live for so long that he would forget Earth? Forget taco trucks? LA fires? The 2000s Baltimore Ravens defense? His Mother? His Brother? Autumn…?

  “Enough sad boy talk. You’ve got incoming.” Isabella pulled the minimap up and pinged a tiny red dot northwest.

  Bright blue mist flowed from the mouth of the approaching Frost kissed who stumbled with each step. As it closed the distance, the issue with its uneven gait became apparent. It’s left femur’s pointed edge jutted through the side of the right pant leg. With every stride, the bone pushed out and then sunk back beneath the filthy fabric. The thought of an injury like that made his stomach turn, but if it was in any pain, the ragged, hungry growls hid it entirely.

  Greg dropped the pipe into the sand and pulled Light Drinker from its scabbard. The soft squelching sound picked up as the ghoulish figure got within twenty feet of him. Somehow it picked up speed, despite its broken appendage, and lurched at him.

  Greg sidestepped and the already awkward Frost kissed tumbled to the ground. Its head snapped up without hesitation, sand falling through the gaps in its mostly toothless maw. Before it could push itself back up, Greg pushed his rapier into a hollow, shadowed eye. A jerk and twist later, the frost kissed laid dead at his feet.

  “Moment of truth.” He whispered as he reached down and touched its bald head and waited.

  Auto-loot: Enabled

  Looting…

  Added 35 copper obols to your inventory

  Added family photo to your inventory

  Added .01 grams of Frost to your inventory

  “Well…” Greg reached into his extradimensional space to pull out the family photo. “That’s depressing.” He used the Frost kissed’s grimy shirt to wipe the blood from his blade before flipping it onto its back with his foot.

  The man in the photo held a young girl in his left arm, his right wrapped around a young blond woman. The bright, kind eyes and warm smile had long been gone, but the general bone structure was enough to confirm they were one and the same. Greg let out a sigh, pushed his fingers through his hair, then tucked the photo under the Frost kissed’s ragged shirt.

  “I don’t mean to be crass.” Her voice was quiet in his mind. “But we confirmed it works. We should leave before the dinner party arrives.”

  “No.” Greg bent to pick up the pole he’d been clattering around before. The man’s image had seared itself into his mind.

  The glee on his daughter’s face.

  Little arms wrapped around his neck.

  His wife’s lips pressed to his cheek.

  “They don’t deserve this.” He placed the end of the pipe on what remained of the swing set’s A-frame. “I’ve got the tools now to help them.” He took a deep breath and waited. Part of him hoped that Isabella would argue. That she’d tell him it was just another of his dumb ideas.

  “Just promise me…if it gets too bad, you leave enough in the tank to get out.”

  A sad smile crossed his lips. He nodded and bounced his pipe between the three bars of the A-frame.

  The response didn’t take long. Soon enough the groaning guttural growl of the Frost kissed came from all around him. They shambled over remnants of fence and through patches of overgrown grass to meet him at the playground.

  It was a trickle at first. The bald form of a helior, its feline face missing the signature beautiful mane. A dozen humans, and then a lizardfolk, her scales fractured, exposing the pale white flesh beneath. He and Light Drinker danced among the once people, each slash an intentional stroke in his farewell letter to each and every one of them.

  As the corpses piled around him, flashes of his first night in this world played through his mind. He recalled how scared he’d been. How hard he’d tried to keep it under wraps.

  A notification box popped up in the periphery. He’d not had Isabella then to minimize them for him. She’d been a fractured soul. Funny how he’d not thought about that until this moment. Surrounded by death. She’d successfully made the trip, but she was in pieces. Had it been painful? She must have felt so lost.

  He’d never thought to ask her.

  Greg glanced to his side, vanishing from his place and appearing fifteen feet away. The horde was still coming, but he’d been conservative in his ability usage. Just enough to build up a few volatile steps to get away.

  He ran.

  Cutting through Frost kissed after Frost kissed, grazing each of the corpses with a free hand when he could to trigger his auto-loot. If any of them had keepsakes on them, he could try to return them to the families.

  “You’re going to have a mountain of random items to sort through. I’d stop while you’re ahead.”

  He vanished again, reappearing within a window on the second story of a nearby home. Dust and debris flew in all directions as he darted through the empty rooms to the other side of the house. One last volatile step and he was on the roof of the next house and still moving.

  They had no chance of catching him anymore. He continued to run until he reached guard tower seventeen, letting them know where he’d left the horde so they could send justicars to eliminate them.

  He didn't speak all the way back to what was now his apartment, lost in thought at what he'd just done. There were so many. He could have filled that park with their bodies and still had them flowing through the streets. It didn’t make sense. There was no doubt that Frost was plaguing the city, but the sheer number of the Frost kissed did not feel right. Something else was going on.

  Greg adjusted the duster on his shoulders, bringing the fur in to nuzzle against his neck. He knew it was cold, but the jacket kept him at the perfect temperature regardless of the weather. No, he just needed the comfort. The soft fur against his skin.

  “I’m sorry.” He finally said after a long, silent walk back to the apartment.

  “Sorry?”

  “Yeah.” Greg stepped through the door, easing out of his boots and hanging up the coat. “I think I have been taking you for granted. I owe you an apology.”

  “That’s wholly unnecessary, Greg.”

  “No, it’s not.” He stepped up to the bar and mixed himself a cocktail. “I’m going to do better at sharing my thinking with you and asking for your input. Not only are you stuck on this ride with me, you’re an invaluable resource.” He stirred the soft pink liquid and took a sip.

  “Thank you,” Isabella said after a long pause. “I’ll try my best not to belittle you.”

  “Ehhh.” Greg shrugged. “I’ve got a pretty thick skin. Not to mention I am a bit of an idiot.”