Looking around the room, Lortum frowned. Had he taken a wrong turn? This was supposed to be the mission informant's office, but it looked like a long-abandoned storeroom for stacks of documents... Actually, it looked more like a tornado had blown through said abandoned storeroom for stacks of documents.

  Last time, he had found the mission document neatly waiting on Oz' desk, likely a task the veteran agent had intended to complete after his last one - although he'd never get the chance now that he's dead. But now, Lortum had no choice to seek out an actual informant to claim commissions and new assignments.

  As the Jinn waded through the stacks of paper, he couldn't help but quickly inspect their contents. Old case files, mission reports, half-scribbled notes, torn envelopes and a receipt from a 'Penny's Pizza'… The image of the neat, intelligent informant he had imagined on his walk here was quickly falling apart.

  A soft thump. A muffled curse. Another, louder thump.

  Then-

  A head popped out.

  Neck-length black, wavy hair. One visible dark-blue eye. A medical eyepatch over the other. Ink smudged across his cheekbone like war paint.

  "…Ah." The young man blinked at him owlishly. "Agent Oz, right! Sorry - sorry, just… give me a second."

  He disappeared again behind the stack.

  Several more thumps followed. Something collapsed. Possibly the man.

  Lortum stared.

  After a few moments, the informant emerged from the mountain of rubbish spouting a new pleased look on his face.

  "Mr Verdandi!" Said the informant, using Oz' surname with great whimsy. "I'm glad to see you active again, I haven't even had the chance to apologise for the faulty intel..."

  Lortum said nothing. So, this was the informant who had given the late Agent unreliable information and dropped him off in a Jinn nest, it was surprising he had managed to keep his job. But then again, to everyone else Oz had come back after only a few days of leave, so there hadn't been any real harm done. Of course, Oz Verdandi had died.

  "Yes, but I'm doing much better now." Lortum paused before adding, "I feel like a brand-new person!"

  He chuckled at his own joke, and the young man joined in politely, although he obviously didn't get it.

  "It's not like you to kid so much, Mr Verdandi, usually you're more stoic." The informant laughed, running a hand through his messy fringe to get his hair out of his eyes, "Be careful, or I might just assume you've been possessed by a Jinn! Hahaha."

  Lortum smiled thinly.

  "That would be quite the assumption," he said. The informant didn't mean it, obviously, but Lortum took the advice to heart. He hadn't been properly capturing the persona of Oz Verdandi, and it was beginning to be obvious to people. Gosh, he really was rusty at this whole possessing malarky.

  "Yes, well, you'd be surprised how many agents come in acting different after a mission. Trauma, stress, emotional breakthroughs, humans are unpredictable creatures," the informant went on, dusting off a chair with the sleeve of his wrinkled white button-up. "Would you like to sit? I think this one is safe. The others have… structural uncertainties."

  He pressed his palm on the backrest. It wobbled violently.

  "Relatively safe," he corrected.

  Lortum chose to remain standing.

  The informant shrugged and plopped down into the unstable chair, which groaned like it resented his optimism. He sifted through the topmost pile on his desk, then another, then the same one again. Paper avalanche number one began to crest.

  "So," he said lightly as several documents slid off the desk and fluttered to the floor around his boots. "I heard you and Agent Shadoll handled the… ah… warehouse incident."

  He said the words with far too much casual interest.

  Lortum narrowed Oz' eyes.

  "How did you hear that? It only happened this morning."

  "Oh, you know. I keep my ears open." He tapped his temple. "And my eyes... Wait, aren't ears always open? I think I got that phrase wrong."

  The Jinn paused, glancing at the nameplate on the informant’s desk. Adler Leere, he noted. Well, despite accidentally sending one of the Courts best agents to their death, this man did manage to do his job when it came to gathering intelligence.

  Rummaging through his desk, Adler produced two letters.

  "Here we go, Mr Verdandi." Said the man, his one good eye hinting at a smile his mouth didn't show. "There's yours and Agent Shadoll’s commission for this mission, I split it pretty much down the middle, I'm sure you worked together to handle the Jinn after all!"

  Lortum accepted the envelope with a curt nod, slipping it into Oz' coat pocket. Adler placed Lupe's envelope on a mostly flat section of desk, patting it like a proud parent who had absolutely not lost it five times already.

  "Well then," Adler said, brushing his hands off as if he hadn't just created a second paper avalanche. "Mission complete. Good work, Mr Verdandi. And please tell Agent Shadoll I'm glad she wasn't seriously injured. It's… good she's alright."

  There was a subtle strain in his voice at that last word. A flicker of something that passed across his expression too fast for most humans to notice. Lortum caught it easily.

  Concern.

  Deep, genuine concern.

  The Jinn filed it away.

  "I will… pass along your wishes," he said.

  Lortum turned toward the door, glad to be free of this baffling man. Adler Leere was tough to read, he carried himself like a bit of a slob, but for some reason the Jinn got the vibe that he was wiser than his young appearance gave him credit for.

  He reached for the doorknob.

  "Ah, one more thing."

  The words froze him. Lortum turned his head just enough to meet Adler's single, dark-blue eye.

  "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, as nothings quite confirmed." The informant scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, "But that Jinn you two brought in, it's uhm... Well, it's human."

  Lortum feigned ignorance, "Yes, I thought as much, we saw the corpse before the dormant Jinn that had possessed it took over."

  Adler shook his head, confirming what Lortum had already guessed. "No. I mean that it's purely human. No trace of Jinn activity at all. It was as if a regular individual sudden mastered enough Goetry to mutate on the spot."

  He pushed a stack aside, revealing a thin clipboard he must have buried at some point. He flipped through the pages. "There were marks in the bloodstream. Faint. Almost burned away. As if whatever triggered the change happened quickly and violently. We do not know what substance caused it."

  "You're saying the transformation was some kind of drug?" Asked Lortum genuinely interested. "That grudge, an intangible energy, was turned into something with substance... And used to trigger an instant transformation."

  Adler blinked, "Well I didn't say anything like that. But yeah, that seems to be the situation... Were you always so quick on the uptake? you're starting to sound like one of those scientists down at R&D."

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Adler set the clipboard aside, then immediately lost track of where he'd placed it. His gaze drifted across the chaos of his desk. A quiet "ah, well" escaped him as he gave up searching.

  "Anyway," he continued, leaning back as the chair protested beneath him, "that's all we know so far. The medical lab will send a full report once they… once they stop arguing."

  "Arguing?" Lortum echoed.

  Adler nodded, lips quirking.

  "Some say it's a breakthrough. Others want to burn everything associated with it. You know how they are."

  He said it so casually. As if the concept of humans turning into monsters overnight was just an irritating footnote in his paperwork.

  Lortum folded Oz's arms.

  "And what do you believe it is?"

  Adler paused mid-thought. His eye, usually unfocused and flitting around the room, sharpened. A rare moment of absolute clarity.

  “..I think... the way it is now; the drug has no real purpose other than to cause mayhem." He said resolutely. Lortum picked up on what the informant was saying, 'the way it is now', meaning that Adler likely thought that its creation could lead to something better.

  Lortum narrowed his eyes, but Adler was already rummaging through another pile, as if the moment of clarity had never happened.

  "Well," the informant chirped, "I'll send you any updates that come in. Don't disappear on me again, Mr Verdandi. Last time you went dark I had three different departments yelling at me."

  Lortum made a mental note of that.

  Oz going "dark" had caused problems.

  "Oh, and once again, tell Miss Lupe I hope she feels better soon! Honestly, that loose cannon letting herself get beat up by a rank 3 equivalent Jinn, what a handful she can be." He sighed, shaking his head with a smile.

  "You care a great deal for her," Lortum said, watching him.

  Adler's shoulders tensed.

  Only for a breath.

  "Well, she's a young agent, practically my age." Said Adler, his voice suddenly a little nervous, "Most rising stars don't make it far... Y'know the saying about hammers and nails, right?"

  Lortum inclined Oz's head in a polite, noncommittal gesture and left the ruin of an office. As he stepped into the corridor, the door clicked shut behind him, muffling the distant sound of Adler tripping over something that clattered loudly.

  Walking toward the stairwell, Lortum lifted Oz's wrist to check the time.

  The watch face hung loose in the frame, the minute hand drifting aimlessly like a trapped insect. As he tilted the wrist, the hand slid to an entirely different part of the clock, offering a new and equally useless time.

  Lortum stared at it with silent outrage.

  "…Cheap human trinket," he muttered. "Of course it breaks the moment I rely on it."

  ---

  The tall, perhaps thirty-something, woman rested on her ornate blade. The odachi sword glistened with a blackness not unlike its wielders long, well-groomed hair. The sight was mesmerizing, and if the beautiful lady's face wasn't scrunched up with rage, then many an artist would have spent their time trying to capture this image.

  "I've told you again and again, Lupe," said the woman, "If you move around so much, you'll tire yourself out... And that makes it easy for your opponent to catch you off guard."

  The young Lupe didn't respond, and if the girl's eyes didn't flicker upwards, most would assume her to be either unconscious or dead. Her face was horribly bruised and bloody, her limbs were all twisted into unnatural angles, and furthermore, her shadow had a large hole where its heart should have been.

  The woman, dressed fully in black, looked positively furious.

  "Oh, oh my sweet daughter." Cried Lupe's mother, her angry visage suddenly shifting to concern and worry. "Don't look so sorrowful, oh my dear sunshine, you understand why I'm doing this for you… Don't you?"

  Obelia Shadoll, a Goetist with many shadowy rumours about her, crouched down to her daughter on the floor. With a gloved hand she wiped aside a non-existent tear that didn't roll down Lupe's cheek, despite the fierce beating she had just received, the daughter didn't flinch at her aggressor’s hand.

  "It will be your 11th birthday in a few weeks," Obelia said softly. "The elders will finally meet you. This is our chance to prove we are better than the main branch. You must be perfect, my sweet sunshine. You must."

  After waiting a few moments and not getting a response, Obelia's expression quickly shifted back into one of anger. But the, after noticing something, she laughed aloud in a manner that did not suit the otherwise stern Goetist.

  "Oh, your jaw is still broken, sorry sweet sunshine," She giggled, apologetic, "Here let me fix that for you."

  "Key of flame: Eden"

  With a golden light, Lupe cried out as her limbs begun to snap back into place.

  "Hmmm, how about I teach you a new key, my sweet sunshine?" asked Obelia as her daughter rolled around in pain. "It's a real weapon, dear daughter, use it well."

  Alone in an infirmary bed, Lupe startled awake, her face dripping with sweat. The agent looked around wide-eyed, scared that perhaps her mother was somewhere around, until she remembered that Obelia Shadoll was long dead.

  Hugging her knees, Lupe reassured herself, "Just a dream... Just a memory."

  Thinking too the last moments of that horrid recollection, Lupe's face turned grave, and a bitter resolve welled up inside of her. A key taught be her mother, and a powerful one at that. The last time she had been forced to use it was against that rank four Jinn Donner had raked her over the coals for, and she promised herself, that would be the last time she used it.

  "No mother," Lupe swore to herself for the millionth time, "I will not use it well, I will never use it again."

  It was only when the far door creaked open that Lupe snapped fully awake. She dropped her knees and shifted into something that passed for dignity just as footsteps crossed the floor.

  He stood in the doorway, hesitating.

  His dark skin looked almost grey under the hospital lights, the deep lines in his face and the old scars along his cheek standing out more than usual. His coat hung stiff on his shoulders, and his lips were pressed tight, like he was bracing for a conversation he already hated.

  She recognized him immediately.

  Oz. Temporary supervisor. Chronic problem. The man who needed help operating a phone.

  His badge marked him as senior, somehow, despite everything. One of those Court fixtures that never quite made sense but refused to leave.

  Lupe exhaled through her nose and forced her hands to unclench. She had no patience left for the Force or its politics. This job was a means to an end. Nothing more.

  "Hey," she said, tilting her head. "What happened? Get lost on the way here, maybe you couldn't figure out how the GPS worked?"

  Not bothering to respond to her jab, Senior Agent Oz Verdandi produced a sealed envelope from within his navy wool overcoat, before dropping it on the table to the side of her bed. He then took a step back, observing Lupe.

  She didn't pick up the letter immediately, first the field agent eyed Oz who was now looking at her with a certain intensity, was he... sizing her up? But she quickly dismissed the thought, if he was trying to assess her strength as an invigilator then it would have been done when she was at her strongest, not when she was hospitalised.

  "You're supposed to be resting," he said at last.

  Lupe snorted. "Why do you think I'm lying in a bed?"

  She reached for the envelope then, breaking the seal with her thumb. Commission. Clean, official, neatly itemized. It was slightly smaller than she anticipated, and Lupe assumed Oz had taken a cut despite doing almost no work.

  'Ah, Seniors,' She shook her head, 'They always think they're entitled to everything.'

  She let it fall back onto the table.

  "So," she said, looking up at him again. "You came all this way to play courier?"

  Oz did not answer immediately. He stepped further into the room, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft finality. For a moment he simply stood there, hands at his sides, his posture stiff like he was uncomfortable in his own body.

  "The informant wanted me to make sure you received it personally," he said. "He… worried."

  " Adler, right?" Lupe raised an eyebrow. "Not sure why that guys so nice to me, gives me the chills."

  Oz nodded, "From how our conversation went, I imagine the government will be going haywire soon, I suggest you recover fast... We'll find ourselves with more work than we know what to do with."

  Oz's gaze lingered on her longer than was polite. Lupe was about to make a crude joke with the intention of embarrassing him before the senior agent opened his mouth again.

  "Just before you were assigned to me," He started, "You subjugated a rank four Jinn with little to no injuries."

  Lupe's expression barely changed.

  "And?" she said.

  "And today," Oz continued evenly, "you faced something weaker. Something equivalent to a rank 3... And you nearly lost your leg."

  Lupe huffed a quiet laugh. "You came all this way to audit my bruises?"

  "Against this rank 4," he went on, "you employed a Key you have not logged since. A key supposedly stronger or at least a wild card that can give you an edge."

  Lupe's jaw set.

  "You reviewed my file," She shook her head, before dryly adding, "...Although you probably should have done that the day you got assigned to me."

  "Tell me,” Said Oz, his face twisting, "Tell me of this key."

  Lupe frowned. Senior Agent Verdandi no longer held the stoic expression she would have associated with someone of his rank, instead his eyes narrowed into thin lines, and even more off-putting... His mouth was now a high ear-to-ear grin. He looked like a mad scientist, or maybe some kind of horrible monster.

  The face returned quickly to his usual state, so quickly that Lupe thought she had imagined what it had been just a moment before.

  "No." said Lupe, resolutely, "Forget about it. I won't be using it again; I'd rather die than subject myself to their whims."

  Oz stared at the young agent for a long time, before huffing out a breath of exasperation and turning on his heel. Oz stopped at the door.

  For a moment, Lupe thought he might say something else. Demand an explanation. Issue an order. Threaten her with procedure or protocol.

  He did none of those things.

  "Then don't," he said quietly.

  Lupe blinked.

  Oz glanced back over his shoulder, his expression unreadable again, the strange intensity gone as if it had never existed.

  "But understand this," he continued. "The world doesn't care what you swear never to use. It only cares what you will."

  The door opened.

  "And Lupe," he added, already half gone, "...You won't amount to anything if you limit yourself with silly feelings."

  The door shut behind him. The last thing she saw was his deep blue eyes, and a gaze that spoke with a visceral intelligence rather than the usual logical one she had grown used to.

  Lupe stared at the empty doorway for several seconds before letting out a slow breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

  Her hands trembled.

  She clenched them into fists, nails biting into her palms, grounding herself in the present. In the sterile smell of antiseptic. In the hum of hospital lights. In the knowledge that Obelia Shadoll was dead and could not reach her here.

  "Still not using it," she muttered to the empty room.

  Even if it killed her.