Raphael walked in slowly. His gaze settled on the short man for a moment. Something nagged at him, a sense of familiarity he couldn’t resolve.

The corresponding memory had been lost in the rebirth, and the details wouldn’t come back.

He pulled the door shut behind him, looked around at the gloom, and let the contempt settle naturally into his voice.

"Do all vampires prefer this kind of lightless atmosphere? I understand the sun issue, but I didn’t realize incandescent bulbs were this offensive to you."

He couldn’t even make out the face. The figure looked like a vampire well enough, but there was something off, nothing like the composed arrogance of the one he’d met at the black market.

The energy was different. This one felt defensive.

"How dare you? who gave you the nerve to speak like that in someone else’s space?

Watch your words. Retract that contemptuous tone, or don’t expect me to show restraint. And don’t accuse me of making a fuss over nothing, you’ve just insulted the Noble Vampire!

Human. If you hadn’t completed your task, you would not be walking out of this room tonight!"

Raphael’s frown deepened. Not intimidation, something was wrong.

The vampire from the black market had been arrogant, yes, but with the ease of someone who’d earned it and didn’t need to perform it. This one was sputtering.

This one sounded like someone whose idol had been insulted.

He kept his tone exactly where it was.

"My sincere apologies for wounding your delicate and frankly rather pitiable sense of pride, honored vampire sir. And, what was your name again? You mentioned it at the black market but I didn’t retain it."

The fist came down on the desk. The figure lurched upright as though a nerve had been struck.

"Watch your attitude! Wretched human! Say one more contemptuous word and I will make sure you don’t leave here in one piece tonight!

My name is Blitz Jestan! Remember it! Blitz Jestan! The true heir of the noble Half-Moon Count!"

He was almost snarling. The man on the sofa shot him a single flat look, and the fury deflated immediately.

Then there was the vampire who called himself Blitz, but was clearly not the real Blitz, sat back down with a heavy thud and a bitter click of his tongue.

"This once, I’ll overlook your rudeness. I am, after all, the larger person in this situation. Now put the item on the table. Gently. That is the Half-Moon Count’s family badge."

This one has the faintest lisp, Raphael noted privately, and he acts like the Count’s bloodline is a personal achievement. Hard to see what connection he actually has to any of it.

He reached into his hidden pocket, withdrew the Half-Moon Badge, and placed it on the desk.

Vampire hand shot forward to take it. Raphael’s came down over it and slid it back.

"What exactly do you think you’re doing?"

Raphael glanced around the room with a mild expression.

"Let’s discuss payment first. That castle was not a simple errand. I’d like to confirm the terms before the item changes hands. A wealthy vampire surely has no trouble honoring what was agreed."

Vampire said nothing immediately. His head tilted slightly, that subtle movement of someone listening to a voice no one else could hear.

The black robe shifted. Just barely. But Raphael caught it.

The corner of his mouth moved.

So the Shadow of Alp is already here.

It appears that Alp assisted an ordinary vampire, enabling him to impersonate Blitz and deceive the others present.

"I remember the terms. Fifty thousand Colin in cash, or two magical items, you choose one. But before anything is handed over, I need to verify the authenticity of what you’ve brought.

You’re human, I’m sure you understand. Deception is something your kind excels at. I need to be certain."

He turned toward the sofa.

"We’ll ask a neutral party to assess it. What do you think, Mr. David?"

The short man on the sofa stood. His gait was wrong, stiff and bent, moving as though something made straightening difficult.

He took the badge, turned it once in front of his eyes, and shook his head.

"I’ll need proper instruments to verify this properly. Gentlemen, a moment please."

He pushed through the door and left.

Raphael’s instinct moved to stop him. Then he thought about Miguel waiting in the corridor, and considered the arithmetic, and let it go.

He sat down on the sofa under Blitz’s hostile gaze, crossed one leg over the other, and appeared to wait.

Internally, he was working through something that had just come into focus.

David.

A short man with a pronounced stoop. That particular walk.

The name and the image connecting.

David, one of the D-Brotherhood assassins from the night that had killed him.

The Malevolent Spirit who had possessed him during the fight, who had screamed about Spirit Oil from inside his body, who had fled when Jasmine cut the compulsion.

An evil spirit that normally wore a black cloak, but in a compact physical form.

This was him.

Raphael took a long, controlled breath.

Two targets. Both here. Under other circumstances this would be exactly the opportunity he’d been waiting for, the chance to close both accounts in a single night.

He couldn’t take it.

Going after the spirit here meant abandoning any possibility of helping the people imprisoned in this building.

Once IFSA entered the picture, assuming they weren’t already being managed by the same officials providing the nightclub’s cover, the outcome for the captives became entirely unpredictable.

The people with standing to obstruct, delay, and quietly redirect would have every reason to do exactly that.

He could pursue David later. He would pursue David later. Right now, later had to be enough.

He looked at the clock.

Four in the morning. Exact.

---

In the corridor outside, Miguel had watched the door to booth 04 open and someone emerge, and had followed at a careful distance without sound.

The man walked directly to another booth at the far end of the corridor, entered, and locked the door behind him.

Miguel observed from a distance, made a brief assessment, and turned toward the public restroom just beside it.

Inside, he looked at the cameras, soaked a wad of tissue under the tap, and threw each one with practiced accuracy until every lens was covered.

He decided not to worry about hidden cameras, there wasn’t time.

He opened the gilded wooden case he’d been carrying. Inside, resting in fitted cloth: a silver short-sword, forearm in length.

Beneath it, several sheets of aged parchment covered in runes and magic circles.

He selected one bearing an abstracted human face, pressed his fingers against it, and it ignited, a sourceless flame that consumed the parchment entirely without touching his skin.

He closed his eyes. His voice dropped into something humble and unhurried.

"Great Empty Eye. Voice of the wind. God of the sky."

The invocation finished, and he shifted into a different language, older, simpler in form but foundational in a way that made every other language feel like a translation of it.

The parchment activated fully. The magic circle split in two: one half rose and merged into the left side of his face, the other passed through the wall.

On the other side of the wall, the left half of Miguel’s face appeared, growing from the surface as though the wall had grown a partial reflection of him, invisible without attention.

Inside the booth, David had completed his examination with a large precision instrument and was speaking into a phone.

"Confirmed. It’s the Half-Moon Badge. Which means the castle’s illusions have been dissolved."

The voice on the other end of the line, the real Blitz, faint but recognizable:

"Good. Bring it to me. I’ll be waiting at the castle. The sacrificial preparation is complete. The ritual can begin."

David made a low, satisfied sound.

"That concludes our arrangement then. The thing you promised me, the Blood Spirit’s Heart, you can tell me where it is now, yes? And Alp’s compensation as well."

On the other end of the line, Blitz made a dismissive sound.

"The matter isn’t finished yet. Already anxious for payment? Don’t worry, I know how important that item is to you.

The upgrade from malevolent spirit to blood spirit is significant. The reward is coming. As for the Heart specifically, I can tell you it’s in the 22nd District, under the care of a highly-placed transcendent.

I’ll give you the rest of the details once the ritual is complete."

David’s expression darkened.

"That wasn’t what we agreed. I don’t recall the terms including a guarantee of ritual success before payment clears.

Gathering this many people while keeping it contained was already more than enough. Don’t push it, vampire. Don’t forget where Alp and I come from."

Blitz’s voice carried a studied indifference.

Raphael frowned slightly, sensing something was wrong. This vampire... didn’t seem to be the real one.