Unfortunately, I can’t just jump into a frantic, enthusiastic investigation of Church nonsense. No, the detectives have to call in constables to watch the vault, get a room set aside to speak to the guards; all the things proper investigators with paperwork should do. It leaves me with idle time and little to do with it.

  While there are no chairs for tailed people like myself, there’s a very comfortable armless chair in the lobby. Perfect for stewing on today’s happenings.

  So, a Mage is coming in and maintaining the wards. Or, was maintaining the wards, at least; the tether healed itself when I fueled it, so I can assume the Mage hasn’t tried to fix anything since the break-in. That, then, flows to the second mystery and a new question.

  Did the guards break the tether? Or did our thief do it? If the guards broke it, the arm should’ve gone off, unless the wards were already disabled. If they weren’t disabled, the arm would’ve gone off, and from what I saw it should’ve at least alerted the priest— though the arm for the vault proper probably would alert more than just him.

  Given there’s a Gods-damned secret passage into the vault? Feh. Maybe the thief hid in it, waiting for a perfect opportunity. I press my chest further into the chair back, feeling the pressure mount and spread.

  Someone clears their throat. I ignore them.

  ...Have I ever spent this much time in the rectory, before? It feels wrong to be here. It's the same feeling as stepping into an ancient Imperial Temple, and feeling the cold gaze of the dead Sun Emperor upon me. I am not welcome, nor do I wish to be.

  And yet, here I am, helping detectives solve a crime and catch a thief.

  “Ivy?”

  My tail flicks, curling through the air like a snake through sand. I’ve said it a thousand times in my own head— I’m not a detective. But now that my teeth are sunken deep enough to draw blood, to taste this prey? I quite like it, and it's more than enough for me to stay.

  “Um. Ah, hello?”

  I rise from my thoughts in a burst, drawing my focus to the present and snapping it to the speaker. Messy brown hair, fttering tan blouse, pretty blue skirt, bright green eyes that waver under my gaze—

  “Oh. Hello, Helena.” I blink, refocusing and softening my expression. A tension winds in my chest, a heavy blend of cynicism and caution at the presence of someone I’ve found can’t truly be trusted. “What do you want?”

  “To, ah.” Helena looks away, hands csped in front of her. I watch silently as she works her jaw and chews her lip. “I want to help. Um, to help you.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Now that’s a surprise.”

  A burst of heat rises to her face, a glimpse of the fury I’d seen in her before our Delve. “Don’t be mean about it!” Helena snaps, her harsh expression already fading away. “I— um, you...”

  My lips quirk upwards. There it is— the fire that got me in so much trouble to begin with. It’s a rather pin reminder of why I walked away, but I can’t deny that I enjoy her presence.

  “You’ve used me and you’ve lied to me, Helena,” I say pinly, arms crossing over the back of the chair. “But I guess my words got to you, didn't they.”

  “They did. I'll help. I can, because it was...” Helena trails off, looking around the lobby. She takes a long, deep breath, chest rising and falling. “I’m sorry, Ivy. I hurt you and I’m sorry. I-I know you can’t trust me, but... I can help.”

  “Can you tell me who’s maintaining the wards?” My reply is immediate but measured— her eager expression and the potential for knowledge weighs heavy against her past mistakes. Against my mistakes, too.

  “The wards are maintained? Um, do you mean they’re fuelled?” Helena blinks, brow furrowing. If my words wound her, she doesn’t show it. “No, that doesn’t make sense, there’s no other Mages in the congregation that I know of. And he’s already upset at me, why would there be...”

  I cut off her rambling with a wave of a hand. Gd to see someone’s just as confused as I am. “There’s another Mage in your Church, yes. If you don’t know who it is, there’s not much you can do.”

  Her fists clench, her jaw tilts, and her eyes lock with mine. “Don’t... no, I can help! Look, Ivy, I’ve talked to Ain and I made him agree to talk about what we’re doing. The truth. So, um, I’d like for you to be there?”

  I take a moment to process her words. They’re not a plea for another chance, they’re an insistence that she will help. Me being there might taint the whole thing, and that’s where my thinking hits a stumbling block. “Why would I want to go in a room with my least favorite Church member? I’m hardly a detective, Helena, and my opinion of him can only go so low.”

  Helena huffs, running a hand through her hair while the other twitches. “Um, yes, one of the detectives would be good...”

  “Clearly. But you want me to be there?” I raise an eyebrow, filling the air as she trails off. From the way her expression shifts, I assume I’m right. “I don’t think I follow, and I know I won't be following you around. It’s not just because you lied to me, I assume?”

  She winces, takes a breath, and nods. “You know more about magic than anyone else around here, Ivy. It’s, ah, important that someone understands what we're saying.”

  My tail sweeps along the ground, the thicker middle part dipping down to rest on the carpet. “I won’t bite him unless he tries it first... probably.”

  “He said he’d tell, and I need to tell the truth too. I should.” She nods, satisfied, then shakes her head. “Wait, um, no. Yes, don’t bite him.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Please? Swear on the Rest— on, um, Adamantine?”

  That'll do. “He’d taste awful and stringy, and Adamantine doesn't take kindly to murder.” I shrug, slowly cmbering out of my chair. It’s a good, light set of words to fill the air while I think, genuinely think about this situation.

  A fascinating blend of shock and amusement breaks across Helena’s face, carried in her low yet wavering tone. “Ivy! That’s a terrible joke.”

  I give her a lopsided smile. “Really? I think it's quite good.”

  We stand there quietly for a moment. Am I really about to follow Helena as she drags me off somewhere? After drawing my line so clearly? No, I won't be dragged, not this time.

  “Feh. I’m going to get Gelson, and we’re going to have this conversation with her in the lead.” I y out my pn, simple as it is, and give her a nod. “Thank you.”

  “It will,” she says with absolute certainty, tilting her chin. “I promise it'll at least give you some evidence.”

  Gods. Every conversation with her is just... weird, somehow.

  Pulling Gelson out of whatever she’s up to is rather easy, actually. They’re in deep discussion with some constables, speaking fluently in the ink-and-boredom nguage of bureaucracy. I shut their words out the moment Tracer mentions a “Ninety-seven Eye” form and do my best to not think about it. Paperwork draws paths more winding than anything Mireise's godly wandering ever could.

  Gelson’s even a little eager to go, actually. There’s genuine expression on her face, spreading like cracks in porcein around her eyes and lips. Happiness, maybe. Hopefully.

  Regardless of whatever’s going on in Gelson’s head, we make our way over to Ain’s office with Helena, and Helena lets us in without knocking.

  “Um, Ain? I brought them.”

  “Them? Don’t tell me you brought her.” Ah, now there’s something entirely comprehensible. Abject disdain, a pleasantly mutual feeling given it’s coming out of Ain’s mouth.

  “Helena wants me here. Also, your key.” I just shrug, striding into the room. I’m not even going to try and sit on any of these flimsy-looking chairs. I pull it out of a pocket and toss it onto the desk.

  We all watch as it utterly fails to go anywhere, instead thudding onto the wood and sticking. A shame, given I was angling for a slide and drop onto the floor.

  Ain has the audacity to smirk. “And Helena’s wishes supercede good practice? You’re a disruption, Dame Crawford, and having you here will taint whatever follows.”

  I just raise an eyebrow, curling my lips back to bare teeth.

  “Ain!” Helena says sharply, much to my surprise. Her voice softens, but she remains straight-backed as she seats herself. “Please stop provoking her.”

  Ain shuts his mouth with a click.

  “Ahem.” Gelson clears her throat before Ain can respond. “I was told you both wish to amend your stories. We can begin now.”

  Ain looks at me, then to Gelson, then to Helena. His shoulders droop, his jaw squares, and he lets out an irritating sigh. “Very well. I felt this was not relevant to the investigation, or rather that it was not your business. But now...”

  He frowns, drumming a hand on the desk. “I have had reason to suspect someone wanted to steal the puzzle box. I am unsure why, but I can only assume it holds more Crawford nonsense.”

  “Crawford nonsense?” I repeat, snorting. “Don’t pin this on me. Feel free to return it, if you can't manage.”

  “Absolutely not. That box will be returned to us, not you.” His response is immediate and venomous.

  A glib response hangs on my tongue, but I pull it back in. Gelson's hand is twitching, Helena is downright grimacing.

  “I have questions. Go on.” Gelson takes that moment to lean in, her voice utterly devoid of inflection.

  Ain tilts his head, lips curling. “I... ugh. So much is Church business, not to be told to outsiders. Where do I even begin?”

  I bite back a sigh. I'd hoped that Helena's promise meant these two had their stories in order.

  “I’ve been enchanting the puzzle box!” Helena blurts, shooting out of her chair. Her hands sm onto the desk, hair falling around her face.

  Dead silence. Gelson’s pen stills above parchment. I watch Helena’s expression shift, taking countless turns I don’t recognize. The steel in her eyes, however, needs no examination. This is why she wants me here, and I find myself disappointed but unsurprised. Lies and secrets within the Church abound.

  “I’ve been enchanting it,” she says again, quieter, voice even. “Because Ain was worried someone inside the Church might steal it.”

  “Helena!” Ain’s reprimand is sharp and venomous. “I was getting to that. Don't rush ahead.”

  “No, Ain! It’s important!” Helena’s arms go wide, spreading and punctuating her words. “It’s important because they think there might be a Mage in our Church, and this makes sense!”

  I can see the gleam and grit in Helena's eyes, and Ain's offer a bitter reflection. There's a joy in watching the Church squabble, but...

  “I—”

  We have work to do.

  For the second time in a week, I call Wind to my fingers and snap, a howling crack that silences the room. I hold Helena’s eyes, waiting for her to take a deep breath and calm down.

  “Are we done?” I sigh, fingers still raised, the spell structure still ready for another shot. Flesh has melded to scale, and Wind still swirls eagerly. “Yes? Good. Gelson, expining the finer details of enchantments versus wards would take a while, so just assume they’re the same for questions.”

  “Thank you,” Gelson states, inclining her head. “Ain. You were entering the vault with Helena to enchant the box, I assume?”

  Ain’s brow twitches.

  “That’s correct,” he says eventually.

  Gelson’s pen scratches against the parchment. “Why?”

  “Because I suspect someone in our Church of being... less than pure of intent.” An utterly useless answer. The whole thing is rotten.

  Gods, if it's just those damn guards fiddling with the box that set this off, I'm going to need to punch something. Several somethings, ideally monsters.

  “Eborate.” Gelson seems to agree with me, in part.

  “Church business,” Ain says slowly, eyeing me. “I’m under no obligation to say anything about it. I have concerns, and I acted upon them.”

  My growl fills the room as much as the snap did earlier. My chest thrums with the sound, my tail flicks across the joining of wall and floor. The books hidden in Ain’s desk, ones he may have taken from the vault, even. “And you had Helena enchant the box. Secretly.”

  “I did. I can’t, um, do wards,” Helena cuts in, pausing for a moment. All eyes are on me again, and I reluctantly ease up on the growl. “I made a trigger-arm system that I can feel as long as I’m nearby.”

  “And what’s the trigger?” Trigger-arm enchantments aren’t that complicated, but I’m still a little impressed. “I assume it wasn’t picking up the box.”

  Never mind that this whole situation is absurd. I didn’t expect that out of Helena, though I suppose it makes more sense than Ain helping someone out of the goodness of his rotten heart.

  Helena’s eyes are glittering with a familiar bookish excitement. “Oh! Yes, the circle gets completed when someone leaves the vault. I, um, it took a few tries to set it up without it grounding out immediately, but it should go off whenever anyone takes it out of the vault. I ran a few tests, and once I was able to enchant it with raw magic—”

  She stops herself abruptly, heat rising in her cheeks. “Sorry.”

  My lips twitch upward, in defiance of my own instruction.

  “There are already wards and arms on the vault.” Gelson states softly, her attention directed at Ain.

  “Church business,” Ain says bndly, waving a hand. Is he asking for a tongue-shing?

  I lean forward, taking care to curl my scaled hands around the edge of the desk corner. “Don’t give me that. You want the box back, we want it out of a thief's hands.”

  He can’t hold my gaze. Not when he’s pinned by it, with my tail wrapping around the side of his desk and poking at his boot.

  Helena makes a noise I can’t quite figure out, something between a sigh and a gulp. “He’s, um, just worried what’ll happen if Priest Dongbaek is far away when the wards trigger.”

  Ain looks like he just bit into something sour. I will treasure this memory, because Gods it's hirious looking. “I— yes. Yes, Helena is correct.”

  “Thank you. Was that so hard?” I let my teeth show.

  “I see,” Gelson cuts in, nodding. She leans in, just slightly, and her eyes lock on to Ain. “Please proceed with your testimony. Helena, do not interrupt.”

  Watching Helena slump doesn't bring me nearly as much joy as I'd hoped.

  “Of course, detective,” Ain says evenly, eyes flicking to Helena. Is that a hint of empathy I see in his eyes? Bleh. “I was unsure where to begin before. My apologies for the cmor, and I assure you Helena means well. She's one of the best of us, after all.”

  After a pause, a moment filled only with the sound of a pen scratching parchment, he sighs and begins to speak once more. “I instructed Helena to lie about who sent her to check on the box. She must have forgotten to continue the lie after.”

  Helena's staring at me now, green eyes wide. Her lip is caught between her teeth, her hands dig into the sides of the chair—

  Doesn't matter. She used me, then lied to me in the name of a Church I loathe. I can't trust that. I keep my gaze trained on Ain.

  “My intent,” Ain says, throat bobbing, “Was to limit awareness of the enchantment. If only Helena and I know of it, perhaps a thief would think Dongbaek's departure is a safe time to steal the box.”

  “When was the box taken?” Gelson pushes onward, pen scribbling. The sound is almost rhythmic, strings of long and short notes with a chorus of punctuating taps.

  “Helena?” Ain gnces at Helena, then to me, then back to Gelson.

  “Um, about the 11th hour by the Elm clock.”

  Gelson's pen stops. “I see.”

  Silence. Murmuring carts on the distant street, the wash of chatter, sounds of footsteps in the halls.

  And then, “Thank you, Ain, Helena. Dame?”

  “That's it?” Ain's eyebrows shoot up. “Not that I'll compin about getting that reptile out of my office.”

  “Half-reptile,” I correct, entirely unhelpfully. “Maybe try something actually insulting next time, if you're trying to get tossed out a window?”

  Helena covers her face, and Ain turns an amusing shade of red.

  Gelson taps her boot, gncing at me. Rather than get involved with whatever that is, I follow Gelson out... but not before giving Helena a nod, and scraping my tail along the doorframe as loudly as possible. The door shuts with a click, leaving us with only the company of a softly ticking Elm clock down the hall— the one just outside the library.

  “So, the time's important?” I say eventually, working my jaw.

  The new information changes things, sure, but... the puzzle still doesn't fit together. Assuming Helena and Ain aren't lying— which they've done before, I wouldn't put it past them to do it again— we know when the box was taken. But by whom? Not a clue.

  “It is,” Gelson agrees, in typical Gelson fashion.

  Boots tapping behind me— three pairs, or at least, six boots worth of footsteps, accompanied by the low and rough voice of detective Tracer.

  “How'd it go, Gelson?”

  “Perfectly, Tracer. What did you find out?”

  I turn around to face Tracer. There's a ssh of a grin on his face, a smug and open wound of excitement on an utterly dour visage.

  “You were there for our big moment, Dame, but we found hidden hatches to the second floor and basement. Took us a bit to spot. Seems like we've got ourselves a method of entry.”

  Which is, of course, when the door to the office swings open. A short blur of messy brown hair lurches out, and if not for my quick reflexes, it would've collided directly with my side. Instead, it trips over my tail— ow— and resolves itself into a tangle of Helena on the floor.

  “Um. Hi,” she says from the floor, pausing just long enough to groan. She smiles awkwardly. “I overheard you talking about the passage, and, um, wanted to say that Ain and I used it once or twice. Sorry. Ah, I didn’t know we could get to the basement that way, though...”

  Gods, I hate this damn Church.

  Origami_Narwhal