The run home was comfortable. Nomi kept to the rooftops, moving parallel to Rinerva’s stumbling form on the street below. The cold rain soaked through her leathers, soothing the heat of the combat and washing the blood from her hands. She paused on a gable, her eyes turning up to the dark gray sky.

  They were close. She could feel it. This nightmare was finally ending. A shiver ran through her, but it wasn't from the cold. It was the lingering, electric ghost of the sensation of sinking her knife into the Witch’s chest. The sheer joy of it hadn't faded yet. She flexed her hand, remembering the resistance of the flesh.

  It should have been lethal.

  If Carmilla were human, she would be dead. But Nomi had been rushed; she had struck for center mass instead of severing the head. If she’d arrived a second earlier, she could have finished the job properly.

  Next time.

  She looked down at the street, watching Rinerva limp through the mud. Everything was a mess. Lillik was a wreck, holding onto sanity by a thread. Talos was recovering from a breakdown where he nearly killed her. Agon was dead.

  Nomi took a deep breath of the rain soaked, rot-scented air.

  She was alive.

  They had been in Spindlegrad for some time now, but even here, in this rotting city, simply being outside was intoxicating. The cold rain on her skin. The bite of the wind. Spending time in parts of her country that weren’t sterile, hemmed in laboratories. And… the killing. Nomi’s lips pulled into a small, tight frown as she leaped to the next roof. It was all she was good at. Her Handlers had possessed an eye for talent, but they had also sculpted her body to ensure it. She was fast. She was quiet. She was lethal. She was designed for the hunt.

  No way for redemption. No.

  She spat the thought out, it wasn’t true. Back then, she didn't have a choice. She was a tool held in someone else's hand. But now? Now things we're different.

  She killed monsters. She killed sadists. She killed the things that would hurt Lillik, or Agon, or Talos. She was still a weapon, yes. But she was a weapon that chose its own targets. She had value. She had to believe that.

  Otherwise, I'm just a knife with a heartbeat

  She lingered on the rooftop for a moment longer, listening to the rain drumming against the slate. Then, she slipped over the edge, landing silently in the alley below and slipping through the back door of the Inn. She arrived a few minutes before Rinerva. Nomi hesitated in the hallway, peering into the common room. Lillik’zeil and Talos were sitting at a table near the hearth. Neither had noticed her yet.

  Talos was talking. His deep voice was low and steady, discussing some pointlessly specific sword technique involving leverage and fulcrums. He wasn't talking because he cared about the technique; he was talking to fill the air. He was keeping his mind busy, and more importantly, he was providing a wall of sound for the Spider while she worked.

  Lillik was mixing something—an accelerant, by the smell of it. Her hands moved with mechanical precision, but her eyes were hollow. Seeing that vacant, thousand-yard stare in the Spider’s eyes made Nomi’s heart throb painfully.

  I did that. I let that happen.

  But she couldn’t have done it the other way. If she had wiped out the crowd in the lower city—if she had slaughtered them all to bait out one woman—she would have proved the Witch right. She would have proved that she was nothing more than the weapon crafted by the Spindlegrad for a war that already ended. She had said no. And the price of that "no" was Lillik’s trauma.

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  It was a terrible trade. But she knew the alternative.

  If she had snuffed them out like in Rhal, she never would have come back to Talos. She would have stayed in the dark, opening throats, lost to the Whisper forever. She took a breath, shook the rain from her hair, and stepped into the light.

  "I'm back," she said softly. Talos looked up mid-sentence. His dark eyes softened, and the corner of his mouth ticked up. It made her feel guilty just how happy she was to see that little smile. She crossed the room and joined them at the table. Talos shifted to make room for her, his arm brushing against hers. He picked up his explanation right where he left off, droning on about leverage points in a parry, while Nomi went to work on his coat. She found a loose thread on his sleeve and began to weave it into a knot. It was a nervous tic, a way to keep her hands busy without holding a knife. Occasionally she would chime in with a detail or a nod, but mostly, she just breathed. She sat in the warmth of his presence and enjoyed the moment.

  The peace lasted around three minutes.

  The front door swung open with a heavy thud. Rinerva stumbled in from the rain. She moved with substantially less grace than Nomi, her boots dragging on the floorboards. Blood was drying on her forehead, matting her white hair, and her skin was pale as ash. Talos stopped talking. Lillik stood up immediately, the medic instinct overriding anything else. Rinerva didn't wait for a greeting. She limped straight toward the Spider, clutching the edge of the table for support.

  “We confirmed it,” Rinerva rasped, her voice tight with pain. “It’s her eyes. That’s how she puts you in the illusion. Eye contact is the trigger.” Lillik pushed Rinerva down onto the bench. She didn't ask for a needle. She simply raised a finger, pulled a glistening, translucent thread of spider silk from her spinneret, and began to stitch the wound shut. The Spider tensed for a moment. Her multiple eyes fixed on the fresh, bright red blood welling on the mage’s forehead.

  Click.

  A low sound rattled in her throat. It was the sound of mandibles twitching. Nomi’s entire body went rigid. Neither Rinerva nor Talos noticed the sound, but Nomi heard it. She saw the hunger flash behind the Spider’s eyes. The moment was gone as quickly as it came, buried under the medic’s discipline, but the afterimage remained.

  Nomi subconsciously pressed closer to Talos, sapping as much of his body heat as she could. The cold of the rain still clung to her skin, but he was a furnace. A furnace who didn’t mind her making his clothes damp with rainwater.

  “Carmilla is on the back foot right now,” Rinerva continued, wincing as the fresh silk stitches tightened through her skin. “We’re going to crush her in the morning and free ourselves from this hellhole.”

  Lillik tied off the knot and snapped the thread with a sharp fingernail.

  “We’ll assault the Coven’s nest at dawn,” Rinerva instructed, sitting up and rubbing her gritty eyes. “Nomi will kill Carmilla. She will sneak in through the citadel’s upper windows while the rest of us press into the fortress through the main gate. We draw the forces out. Many of them will be thralls, so we only need to survive long enough for Nomi to slaughter the Matriarch.”

  Nomi stared at the wood grain of the table. An assassination mission. It felt… unclean. It felt like she was returning to her roots. Like she was just a tool being pointed at a target again.

  I am killing monsters.

  She wasn't doing it for a handler. She was doing it for her family.

  “Alright,” Nomi said, looking up. “I can cut her wings. She didn’t turn into a monster when I stabbed her last time. Let’s see if she does something new when I saw off her head.”

  She leaned forward on the table with a little, sharp smile, resting her chin in her palms. Talos’s hand moved under the table. He rubbed her thigh supportively, his calloused palm warm. It sent a little fuzzy jolt of comfort through her nerves, anchoring her in reality.

  “Talos will have to take the Vanguard. Since he can drink potions again, we’ll need the heavy stuff to hold the line.” The warmth on Nomi’s leg stilled. Talos’s hand stopped moving.

  His expression darkened. The silence stretched for a beat too long.

  “Alright.” He paused, taking in a breath of the rain soaked air. “When we’re done this, I’m done with accelerants. We have to find a real tank, I’ll use healing potions and that’s it.”

  “...Fine. Once we leave Spindlegrad, you can detox. But for tomorrow, I need you at your peak.” She stood up, wincing as her movement pulled at the fresh stitches. “With that resolved, get some sleep. Nomi, can you take first watch with Lillik?”

  Nomi hesitated. She looked at Talos, seeing the grim resolve settling behind his eyes. She wanted the warmth. She wanted the quiet grumbles and the banter. If this was their last night before the end, she wanted every scrap of attention she could get.

  “Mm. Can we swap?” Nomi asked, her voice soft. “You take second watch with Lillik? I’ll take first with Tal.” Rinerva paused. She looked between the Fox and the Swordsman, her blue eyes calculating but not unkind. She recognized the need for what it was. It wasn't tactical; it was sentimental. And for once, she didn't care.

  “...Yes,” Rinerva murmured, turning toward the stairs. “I suppose that works. Wake us in four hours.”