New Warren University rose up before them like a cathedral carved into the stone itself—vaulted archways, spires blending seamlessly into the stalactites of the cavern ceiling. Students of all types milled about the campus grounds between classes.

  "You go to college, matchstick?" Buck asked as they walked towards the main building.

  "I did, but not here." Sparks answered, fussing with the new tracking collar around his neck. "Majored in finance with a minor in art. You?"

  "Nah. Joined the police academy as soon as I could."

  "I went here," chirped Krouri. "Got my journalism degree. I've been working towards my master's."

  Hazelnut smiled faintly. "I never finished school but I got my GED. Maybe I'll enroll when all this is over. I could major in photography. I love developing my own shots."

  They reached Professor Nooraym’s office. Spotty was already waiting in the hallway and waved them over. Inside, an aged barn owl sat behind a desk piled high with thick textbooks. The professor wore a tweed jacket and smart-looking spectacles that rested on the edge of his tiny beak.

  Spotty cleared her throat to get his attention. "Professor, these are the people I told you about. The ones with Eidolon experience?" she said as a way of introduction.

  He looked up from a massive tome sitting open on his desk. "Ah yes, welcome!" He gestured for them all to take a seat. "I understand you have some questions about Eidolons. Truly fascinating things. How might I be of assistance?"

  Krouri raised a hand. "Is it possible to sever a bond to an Eidolon?"

  The professor tilted his head quizzically. "In very rare instances, yes. Most bonds are voluntary—an Eidolon recognizes an affinity in a mortal. You can refuse, or starve the bond by acting against its concept…but severing an active bond is extremely difficult. Why do you ask?"

  "I was deceived," she said, voice steady. "I thought it was Order. It was Deception. I want it gone."

  Spotty gave a low, surprised whistle.

  "Then your best path," Nooraym said gently, "is to live in opposition to it. Reject deception in both word and deed." He offered a handkerchief as blood trickled from Krouri’s nose.

  "That has to be the first truthful thing you've said, princess," Spotty muttered. "All right—I'll talk to Paul about lending you some airtime. No guarantees though."

  Buck leaned forward. "Professor, what about forced bonds? Chemically induced?"

  The professor's feathers bristled as he rose from his seat and used a steaming kettle to freshen his mug of tea. "Not naturally possible. There are ways to heighten susceptibility to the Weave, but an Eidolon chooses its host, not the other way around. They're an ideal representation of a principle or quality. Like a Muse."

  "Could more than one Eidolon bond with a single mortal?"

  "In theory," the owl replied, "but you’d have to exemplify both ideals completely. Otherwise they’d tear each other—or the host—apart."

  He pulled an afghan from the back of his chair and placed it over his shoulders. "That reminds me of something I came across once. An old record that detailed the last sighting of the Eidolon of Ambition. Ambition was true to its name and its host sought ever growing power and prestige. So much so that another concept warred with it in the host’s mind. According to the record, this had happened once before but the author claimed an inability to stop it. Ultimately, the two Eidolons formed something so destructive, the host was completely obliterated. Mind, body and soul."

  The room was silent for a moment, the words heavy in the air. Sparks cleared his throat and asked, "Have you heard of Eidolons appearing on the material plane?"

  "I have," replied Nooraym. He rose from his seat once again and went to check the thermostat. "The recent burst of energy from Aethercorp has caused multiple sightings within the visible light spectrum. Or are you referring to complete and total manifestation?"

  "The second one," Hazelnut said as she produced a cone of incense and held it above Sparks' pocket. Kindling emerged and leapt after it like a ball of yarn, running across the desk. The professor scrambled to protect his many papers.

  "Gracious me! Please, no fire elementals on campus! They could—" He stopped himself and stared in stunned reverence. "By the Weave… The First Muse…"

  "This is Kindling, the Eidolon of Creativity," Sparks explained as Kindling rolled around on the desk, gnawing on the incense and kicking at it with its hind legs.

  The professor watched the two-tailed creature with overwhelming fascination. "The Fires of Creation. I never thought I'd see the day." Kindling finally noticed the owl and stopped playing with the incense, moving closer to the professor and placed a tiny paw on the professor’s beak. The firelight reflected off his spectacles with a dazzling rainbow of colors. The professor pulled away and began hurriedly rummaging through his desk drawers. "If I recall correctly, there was something about…ah, yes. Here it is."

  He produced an old notebook and flipped to a bookmarked page. "The First Eidolon. My record is incomplete but I was able to glean this much. It dates back to the Second Age. The First Eidolon wasn't a free floating concept. It was created or summoned into the world. Brought forth by mortals into being. Creativity is a much more continuous presence. The very embodiment of a Muse."

  As he flipped frantically through the pages, Buck exhaled—and saw his breath cloud the air. Frost crept across the window. Tiny clouds escaped Nooraym's beak with every word.

  "Anyone else feel that?" he asked.

  "It does seem to be a bit nippy in here," Sparks agreed. "Allow me." He concentrated for a moment and the room slowly started to warm up again. He turned to the window. "It's coming from outside."

  Below, Leo Thatch paced in the courtyard. Icy vapor rose around him with murder blazing in his eyes.

  "Friend of yours?" Buck asked.

  "More like a conflict long overdue. Excuse me." Sparks climbed out the window and slid down the building's wall using his claws to slow his descent.

  What followed happened fast.

  Leo charged. Sparks barely had time to raise his arms before claws raked down his sleeves.

  "Time to go," ordered Buck. "That damn matchstick has found himself some more trouble."

  Hazelnut dashed out of the office first and vanished out of sight. Buck and Krouri raced downstairs. A public fight with a known arsonist at a high profile location like the university was just asking to be reported on. That much activity pointed at Sparks this soon could ruin the plan to catch Fixer. They needed to end this, fast.

  In a twisted bit of luck, the brawl had cleared the quad of students. Sparks and the boy circled each other in a crater of torn turf and broken flagstones—the lingering shape of one of Sparks' containment spells. Leo moved like a shard of glass in a storm: blindingly fast, zig-zagging from side to side and leaving frozen footprints in his wake. Sparks stayed on the defensive, parrying each strike with a forearm or side-step. But the kid hit hard. One punch slipped through his guard and smashed into his ribs, sending him sprawling across the grass.

  "You can't hide away in your palace anymore, Sparks," the hamster called out. "I will make you pay for what you've done!"

  Sparks coughed and pushed himself up, teeth clenched. "I'm not going to fight you, Leo! This isn't going to go the way you think but if you insist, you'll have to deal with the consequences."

  "These days, consequences are all I'm about!" Leo roared, charging in with claws raised.

  He didn’t make it.

  A streak of red dropped from the sky and smashed him into the ground. Hazelnut landed hard with both feet, flipping away to reset her stance.

  "Give me your phone," Buck asked Krouri. "I'll call Zywrath for backup. Help Sparks."

  Krouri touched Sparks’ shoulder and a golden glow sealed the bleeding cuts across his arms. Sparks rolled his shoulders, exhaled once, and refocused.

  Hazelnut scattered a pouch of ball bearings and caltrops across the shattered turf—but Leo vaulted clean over them, eyes blazing blue, a trail of frost sliding in behind him. He blew past Hazelnut and dove towards Sparks, slicing ribbons out of his sleeves.

  "ENOUGH!" Sparks bellowed.

  One hand slammed to the ground—obsidian erupted like a geyser.

  Black chains burst upward, coiling around Leo’s limbs mid-lunge. He hit the ground on his knees, snarling and thrashing like a feral beast. Frost bloomed across the chains as he fought against them. Foam flecked at the corners of his mouth.

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  "KILL YOU—" Leo choked, tendons in his neck bulging as he strained against the bindings. "I’LL…KILL…YOU!"

  Hazelnut stepped in and brought a fist down hard—right behind the ear. Leo crumpled forward and went limp in the grass. Sparks closed his eyes and released the spell. The chains vanished in a hiss of cinders and vapor.

  Buck arrived a second later, breath clouding in the air. One knee in the kid’s back and the cuffs were on.

  "Anyone want to tell me what the hell that was about?" The voice was Spotty's as she stormed angrily towards them looking very pissed off.

  "I can explain," Sparks began. "but not here."

  "Yes, here," Spotty shot back. "I vouched for you and you start a massive fight on the quad? Who's the hamster and why does he want you dead?"

  "This isn’t the sort of thing to be discussed out of doors," Sparks pressed.

  Spotty scoffed and stepped closer to Sparks. "Fine. If you won't tell me, I'll find out for myself." Her eyes flashed white and Sparks visibly flinched. They seemed to engage in a psychic struggle, each grimacing in silence. After a moment, she gasped and took a step back.

  "You crossed a line, girl." Sparks snarled.

  "I need to know what’s going on," she replied, staring at Sparks but reaching out to touch Leo's head. Krouri swatted her hand away.

  "What do you think you're doing? You can't invade the mind of an unconscious person. There are consent laws!"

  "He tried to kill Sparks. You could have been next."

  Hazelnut joined Krouri’s outrage. "That doesn’t give you the right!"

  Zywrath arrived at that moment with a few patrolmen and Buck waved them over.

  Sparks gripped Spotty by the arm. "Buck, if you'd be so kind as to fill the lieutenant in. I'll explain to the others somewhere less exposed," he said as he ushered them all inside a now empty cafeteria.

  "Buck, what happened here?" Zywrath asked.

  "All I know is this one," Buck said, gesturing to the hamster. "Attacked Sparks with the fury of someone out for vengeance."

  "Damn it. How many enemies does that cat have? Everyone in the city wants a piece of him." Zywrath instructed the patrolmen to seat Leo in the back of the patrol car. "We can hold him for a while but Sparks will need to press charges if we are to keep him detained."

  "I'll let him know. Be careful. Pretty sure the kid is bonded."

  As Buck watched the police drive off, he considered the lieutenant's words. Sparks had certainly proven a knack for garnering hostile attention. Pazienza. Fixer. V. Even himself to an extent. He walked over to examine the shattered turf of their impromptu battleground. The remaining shards of ice were slowly starting to melt. That murderous look in the hamster's eyes was chillingly familiar. He himself had viewed Sparks with similar ire in the past but never to this degree. He just wanted answers. The kid wanted blood.

  The doors to the cafeteria slammed open. A very angry looking Hazelnut and sour-faced Krouri stormed out with Sparks in tow. "Spotty's not going to be of any help and frankly I don't want to work with someone so dismissive when it comes to matters of consent," Krouri said, smoothing down her ruffled feathers. "We're going to need to come up with a new plan."

  *  *  *

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze.

  Sparks declined to press charges against Leo, but asked Zywrath to keep the incident off the kid’s record and out of the public eye as much as possible. The lieutenant agreed, though he warned Leo could only be held for thirty-six hours without formal charges. Krouri and Hazelnut returned to the apartment complex and were stunned to find a sleek black limousine waiting outside. Iggy stepped out—alive, unharmed, and clutching a gift basket bigger than his torso. What followed was a blur of tears and hugs. The kind of family relief Hazelnut had almost forgotten how to feel.

  Buck, meanwhile, retreated to his office. Losing access to LBR was a setback, but the rest of his plan still held water. He just needed a new way to draw Fixer out. Several hours and two legal pads later, he called everyone together.

  Hazelnut and Krouri arrived first, settling into the chairs in front of Buck’s desk. Sparks and Zywrath followed soon after; the lieutenant stood near the door while Sparks drifted toward Sam’s empty desk. Buck’s glare alone was enough to make the tabbi rethink his choice of seat and he leaned against a filing cabinet instead.

  Buck steepled his fingers. "All right. Let’s address the firestarter in the room." His eyes found Sparks and didn’t move. "Who is the hamster—and why does he want you dead?"

  Sparks didn’t answer right away. He pulled a cigar from his breast pocket, clipped the end with a claw, and held it up. Kindling, perched on his shoulder, gave the wrapper a single head-bump and it lit with a tiny puff of blue flame. He stared out through the blinds. The slats striped his face like prison bars.

  "…I killed his father."

  The room fell silent.

  "One of my first major contracts after arriving in the city," Sparks continued quietly. "A business owner hired me to burn down his shop. His staff was trying to unionize and he wanted the insurance payout. Yes—scumbag. But I was young. Arrogant. I thought I could turn fire into art and have the whole city applaud. The fire caught faster than I anticipated. One of the workers had gone back in. I never saw him come out." He stared down at the cigar and tapped ash into the tray. "When the rubble cooled, they found him pinned under a collapsed beam. Both legs were broken. He'd died from smoke inhalation." Sparks inhaled. Exhaled. "He was holding a signed breakball. One from his son."

  Hazelnut pressed a hand gently to his arm, silent.

  "I…supported the family," Sparks said. "Quietly. Paid for the kids’ schooling. Bought groceries. I even funded Leo’s scholarship. Doesn’t matter. It’s never enough. It will never be enough."

  Buck, much softer now: "That’s why you saw the mole woman. Guilt was trying to bond with you too."

  Zywrath nodded once. "And why Leo thinks this is Justice." He stepped away from the door. "After hearing your side…I would say the scales are not as uneven as he believes."

  "Doesn’t stop the Spotlight from spinning this into a manslaughter broadcast," Sparks muttered. He set the cigar down and glanced toward Krouri. "However…there is another media outlet we haven’t approached."

  Krouri blinked—then grinned as the idea clicked. "An exclusive." She already had her notebook out. "A full interview. The Crimson Lotus in his own words." Pages fluttered as she started sketching out headlines. "We publish it in the morning edition. Set the record straight before Spotty goes live."

  Sparks huffed a half-laugh. "If I’m going down…I suppose I should be at the wheel."

  "It might do more than control the damage," Krouri said. "People like the Crimson Lotus. We get letters every day. This could be the moment you pivot."

  "Would not hurt your case with the prosecutor, either," Zywrath added dryly.

  "And you won’t be alone," Hazelnut said, giving Sparks’ hand a reassuring squeeze. "We’ll back you."

  Sparks squeezed back. "Thank you. And thank you—for earlier. Spotty needed to hear that."

  Hazelnut’s expression darkened slightly. "People want everything in clean lines. Right or wrong. Black or white." She shook her head. "She doesn’t see the grey."

  Buck froze. Eyes widening.

  "That’s it."

  He stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled. "The paper. Forget the radio—we use the Dispatch. Sparks calls Fixer out in print. Really hit his ego. The moment that issue hits the street, word of mouth will find him."

  Sparks smiled slowly. "Two birds. One stone." He tipped his head at Krouri. "No offense."

  *  *  *

  The group broke for dinner at Grenda’s. With the revised plan in place and a clear direction finally emerging, the mood around the table was lighter than it had been in days. Sparks even managed an unguarded smile when Grenda brought him a replacement for the coffee he'd missed the last time. Zywrath, for his part, demolished a short stack and three cups of coffee in near-silence.

  Then the radio over the counter crackled. At first it sounded like someone spinning the dial—static, snatches of orchestra music, an advert for a dental clinic—until a familiar voice cut through, warm and measured. Not Spotty’s.

  "Good evening, New Warren City. This is the Spotlight. Recent days have been filled with strife in certain parts of the city. As conditions in the Stairs worsen, violence rises—and several citizens have now been caught in the crossfire of the search for the Cremation Killer."

  All conversation in the diner faded. Even Grenda paused, coffeepot in hand.

  "Lieutenant Zywrath of the NWPD. Buck Piper. Hazelnut Bushytail. Sparks of Life. According to witnesses, the killer—using the handle Fixer—has revealed himself. Details are still being confirmed. As many of you know, we don’t peddle half-baked stories."

  Hazelnut and Krouri exchanged a glance. Sparks leaned forward, elbows on the table.

  "People aren’t only good or bad. Those you might hate are still just people, and more often than not, they’re trying to help just as much as you are. Evil flourishes when good people do nothing.

  Lighthouse Beacon Radio exists to protect the oppressed, the manipulated, the silenced. It’s easy to mistake that for antagonism. But that isn’t the truth, is it? Krouri Kukri, heiress to the most prominent media institution in the city—you’re trying to change this place for the better. We see that. We’d like to work with you."

  The station went silent for a breath.

  "In the meantime, to all those organizing protests tonight…be careful. Be safe. Support each other. Good night, New Warren City."

  The transmission ended. A hush lingered over the diner.

  "Sounds like an olive branch," Buck said.

  "Or a trap," Sparks countered. "One might argue it’s the exact tactic we’re planning to use on Fixer."

  Krouri frowned. "Then why is the dial flicking back and forth like that?" She crossed to the radio resting on the counter. The tuning needle was sliding back and forth by itself—77.6… 77.8… 77.6 again. Over and over. Krouri grabbed the dial and forced the needle to stop squarely at 77.7. A second of silence. Then the Spotlight’s voice returned, softer, clearer—as though the broadcast was now meant only for the diner.

  "This a good time and place?"