“If you hurt my dog,” I growled, blood still dripping from my nose, “I swear to the good Lord above, it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

  The woman responded with a tight-lipped smile, her expression as sharp as a razor.

  “Why would I ever want to harm your poor, sweet, precious pet?” she asked, raising a single eyebrow. “I know how much the beast means to you. I was merely trying to ensure it came to no harm during this... unfortunate altercation.” She gestured with a slender hand toward the carnage around us. The courtyard was now a butcher’s block, soaked in blood. “But since the danger has passed,” she added almost playfully, “there’s no need for such precautions anymore.”

  Her words were pure bullshit, and we both knew it.

  Croc didn’t need protecting—not from the Aspirants, anyway. She’d done this to prove a point. To show that she could do to us what she’d done to the Red Hands if she felt like it.

  With a casual wave, she released her hold on Croc. The mimic, suspended in the air, drifted to the ground, its bear-like hind feet touching down softly before the violet glow around it winked out. The same energy enveloping the woman vanished as well, leaving her looking pale, almost fragile. But after her little display, I knew she was more dangerous than any of the Aspirants we’d come to save her from. I wasn’t sure what kind of Relics she had, but clearly this woman wasn’t just dangerous—she was apocalyptic.

  A biblical plague wrapped in silk.

  “Croc,” I barked, never taking my eyes off the woman, “get back to the door. If I tell you to run, you run. Got it?”

  “But, Dan—” Croc started.

  “Just do it, okay?” I snapped, pulling my hammer free from my belt while simultaneously preparing to hit the woman with a concentrated geyser of Hydro Blast. She might’ve been tough, but I doubted she could shrug off 100,000 psi of scalding water.

  She raised her hands in mock surrender. “There’s no need for that,” she said calmly. “I have no intention of harming you or your friends. Quite the opposite, actually. Hard as it may be to believe, I harbor no ill will toward you. I come in peace.”

  Peace? Yeah right. I’d just watched her turn three Aspirants into meat cubes without so much as lifting a finger.

  Still, I held my ground. Running would only make things worse. This lady was a predator, pure and simple, and you never turned your back on a predator. Never. They could smell fear, taste weakness, and if I projected anything other than complete go-fuck-yourself-confidence there was every chance that she’d attack, despite her promise to the contrary.

  “This doesn’t look especially peaceful to me,” I said, gesturing to the corpses scattered around the courtyard.

  She tilted her head and smiled, though there was nothing even remotely friendly in the gesture. “Perhaps I should clarify—I mean you no ill will. These wretched creatures, however, were monsters. Less than human.” Something dark and nasty flashed behind her eyes. “They deserved their fate.” She paused and cocked her head to one side. “Surely you agree, no?”

  Her gaze darted toward the Aspirant I’d killed.

  It was impossible to miss the smoldering hole punched all the way through his chest. The flames had continued to burn, reducing him to a blackened shell.

  I hadn’t even gotten the guy’s name. I’d just murdered him where he stood.

  The thought hit me like a dull weight in my chest. And yet, I felt... nothing. No guilt. No remorse. Just a faint thread of relief. It wasn’t like when I’d killed Natasha—that had been messy, haunted by hesitation and regret. This was different. Cold. Clinical. That scared me almost as much as the woman standing before me.

  I shoved the thought aside, though. Emotions could wait.

  Right now, I had bigger problems to deal with.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t slap-chop ’em into stew meat,” I shot back, sounding more defensive than I liked. “What you did was just… excessive.”

  The woman shrugged. “You say excessive, I say efficient. Besides, the only reason you didn’t do it is because you lack the power. But if I gave you my Relic...” She tapped her nose knowingly. “Wouldn’t you have done the same?”

  Her words hit a nerve, and I hated that she was probably right.

  “It doesn’t matter either way,” she continued after a beat. “In the end, dead is dead. Whether it’s a meat cleaver, angle grinder, or a jet of supercharged water—the result is the same.”

  “That’s not true,” Croc interrupted, padding over to sit beside me, its voice firm and unyielding. “Sorry, Dan, but friends don’t leave friends behind,” the mimic whispered softly to me before turning back to face down the woman. “Intent matters. Maybe the end result doesn’t change, but why you do something does. You wanted to kill those people. I can see it in your eyes. You enjoyed it. But I’m not going to let you do that to Dan. He’s my best friend and if you want to hurt him, well, you’ll have to go through me first.”

  The mimic moved forward, positioning itself firmly between me and the woman.

  The move caught me completely off guard. But I was even more surprised when Temperance joined. Together, the two of them formed a wall in front of me. Well, they tried too. Temperance was all of five feet nothing and Croc was down on all fours, so it wasn’t much of a wall, but it was the sentiment that counted.

  “If I tell you to run, Dan,” the dog whispered, throwing my words from before right back in my face, “you do it. Think about all those kids up there. The ones playing with toys and eating Froyo. If something happens to me, it’ll be sad. If something happens to you, everything we’ve built will die. I can’t let that happen.”

  I’d known Croc long enough to tell that there was no reasoning with the dog. But Temperance was smarter than that.

  “Temp,” I urged under my breath, “you don’t need to do this.”

  She shrugged, her floppy bunny ears bouncing from the motion. “I won’t run from a fight.” She smiled and twirled her meat cleaver with a flourish. “Especially not one that promises to be so very entertaining.”

  “Adorable, truly,” the woman said, clapping softly. “But all very unnecessary, I can assure you. As I said, I have no intention of harming you. Surely you must realize that if I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done so already. Or do you doubt I have the power to dispatch the three of you just as easily as I dispatched the three of them?”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” I said, cracking my neck. “But we won’t go down without a fight.”

  “Why fight at all?” She asked, spreading her hands in welcome. “Why not extend a modicum of trust instead?”

  “Trust is in short supply around here,” I growled, “and you haven’t given us much reason to give you any. Hell, you haven’t even told us who you are or what you want. It’s like Croc always says, the number one survival rule in the Backrooms is to assume that everything, everywhere, all the time is both lying to you and trying to kill you.”

  “That is a good rule of thumb,” the woman replied, folding her hands behind her back, “and one, which you would do well to follow more closely in the future. You’re getting stronger, Dan, but that strength is already leading you to be overconfident,” she chided, sounding almost disappointed in me.

  “You made assumptions about me,” she continued. “Dangerous assumptions that could’ve gotten you killed in a most untimely manner if my intentions weren’t pure as the driven snow. You took one look at me on those security monitors and believed you were rushing in to help a wayward damsel in distress.”

  The words were a gut punch.

  I was positive this lady had never paid a visit to the store—the level cap alone would’ve kept her out—so how could she possibly have known about my security system? She was telling me, without using so many words, that she had eyes and ears inside my store. That she was watching me.

  “Admittedly, it was quite the heroic gesture,” she said, “but foolish all the same. You’ve made waves, Dan. And even though you are a tiny, insignificant minnow swimming at the top of a very large pond, I can promise you that the monstrous fish below have finally taken notice.” She paused and leaned forward ever so slightly. “And I’m not just talking about the Flayed Monarch. They are watching, Dan. All of them.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Moving forward, paranoia is your best friend,” she said, her tone cold and absolute. “Trust nothing. No one—except me of course.” She flashed me another cold smile. “Although it is supremely unlikely that any of the Dark Lords and Ladies will waste their time accosting you directly, believe me when I say they will dispatch agents of their own. And I’m not talking about buzzing gnats like these worthless creatures.”

  She spit at the gory remains of a very dead Aspirant.

  “They will send real emissaries with real power. You need to have a plan to kill everyone you meet and, if you value your life, always be ready to run.” She directed her stony gaze directly at Temperance. “Violence is admirable, but sometimes escape is the better part of valor.”

  “Is that what you are?” I asked, feeling more unsure of myself by the moment. “An emissary to some powerful faction?”

  She dropped her hands to her sides, lifted her dress, and gave us the smallest of curtseys.

  “Indeed, I am.” she admitted, inclining her head ever-so-slightly. “You may call me the Director. Unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to disclose who I serve, but suffice it to say, they are... formidable. You would be wise not to cross them. Not when you have already made so very many powerful enemies.”

  My gut twisted.

  “Formidable” was just a polite way of saying terrifying. In the Backrooms, power wasn’t measured by titles or words—it was measured by the ability to enforce your will and command the respect of others. This woman was scary and anyone who could command her allegiance was trouble. It could only be one of the Sovereigns who ruled over the lower floors, which narrowed the possibilities dramatically.

  From what I’d learned, there were seven Sovereigns, each with the powers of a small-g god. The Lord of Coin, Dark Geppetto, and the Iron Tyrant. The Sorority Queen of Kappa Nu Theta and Riot Roy, who ruled over the Badland Boys down on floor seven hundred and thirteen. And, of course, the Flayed Monarch of the Skinless Court and the Boundless Wanderer—who was the only Sovereign without a kingdom to call his own.

  The only question was, who did this lady owe fidelity to?

  It could’ve been any of them, even the Flayed Monarch—though that seemed less likely.

  “As for what I want,” she continued, her tone almost casual, “I’m here to help you, Dan. To prepare you for what’s coming.”

  “And what’s that, exactly?” I asked, not bothering to mask my skepticism.

  “War, of course. What else?” She answered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Great things are transpiring, Dan, and you happen to be a fulcrum. A turning point. As I said, you are a minnow, but one with the potential to grow into a shark. Perhaps even a legendary kraken. It seems you have acquired something valuable. Something that belonged to the Monarch.” Her voice was soft now, the words were hardly more than a whisper. “Something that has effectively crippled his empire.

  “Before your arrival,” she said, her eyes boring into my chest as though she could see right to my core, “the Monarch had a web of doors that connected his Kingdom to virtually every floor. It was one of the things that made him so very dangerous. But his web is gone, while yours is spreading.” She offered me a conspiratorial grin. She knew. Knew my secret. Knew about the Compass of the Catacomber. “Needless to say, his forces are coming for you. To take back what belongs to him. To restore the glory of his kingdom.

  “And although you have made some admirable strides, make no mistake, you are running out of time. Soon it won’t be level 16 Aspirants loitering on your doorstep, it will be level 60 outer disciples. Or level 100 court nobles. You won’t survive them. None of you will. Not as you are.” Her smile stretched wider, though it never quite reached her eyes. “But there’s a way to turn the tide.”

  “Let me guess,” I said dryly, fighting to suppress my own fear, “that way just so happens to align with whatever your boss wants?”

  “Exactly,” she said, unbothered by my sarcasm. “Mutual benefit, Dan. That’s what I’m offering. What my employer is offering you. You grow stronger, my employer’s enemies grow weaker, and everyone wins. Except, of course, for the Flayed Monarch.” She chuckled softly, as though sharing a private joke. “He will lose. And isn’t that what you want?”

  Her words sank in like jagged hooks that I couldn’t shake.

  As much as I hated to admit it, she had a point. That was exactly what I wanted. The Monarch was gunning for me, and I wasn’t strong enough to face him—not yet. But accepting her help meant stepping into a game I didn’t understand, one with rules written by people far above my pay grade. And in the Backrooms, pawns didn’t usually make it to the endgame.

  “Why us?” Temperance asked, her tone as sharp as her cleaver. “If this employer of yours is so powerful, why not simply handle this themselves, I wonder?”

  “Politics,” the Director replied with a sniff and a resigned sigh. “With these things, dear Temperance, the answer is always politics. Unfortunately, my employer cannot openly move against the Skinless Court. Not yet, at any rate. Which is why they must find proxies to do it for them. There is a tenuous balance of power between the Sovereigns and should my employer act openly, it could invite incursions and reprisals. But you, Dan?” She traced a fingernail along her bottom lip as she watched me. Appraised me. Judged me. “You’re a wild card, aren’t you? A variable no one accounted for. That makes you valuable.”

  “Or disposable,” I replied.

  “Perhaps both,” she admitted with a shrug. “But even a disposable tool can carve a path to greatness. A simple hammer becoming more than what it once was.” Her gaze darted to the tool in my hand. “The question is, will you do what is necessary to seize it?”

  I glanced at Croc and Temperance.

  The mimic was watching me with unshakable trust. Temperance, ever the cynic, looked ready to fight but willing to listen. Their faith in me was both grounding and suffocating. Whatever decision I made, it wouldn’t just affect me—it would affect them, too.

  “Okay,” I finally said, my voice firm. “Let’s say, just for the sake of argument, that I believe you. Let’s say I’m interested. What exactly are you offering?”

  “Information, first and foremost,” she replied. She slowly made her way toward my kiosk then rested a hand against the counter. “What do you know about these?” she asked. “About the kiosk network?”

  I shrugged. “I know they serve as trade hubs, and I also know they’re all owned by someone or something called the Franchisor.”

  “That’s more than most,” the Director said, “though far from the whole picture. As I mentioned, you have crippled the Skinless Court’s logistical capabilities. The Monarch cannot effectively move his forces—which is the only reason you’re still alive. Even for powerful Delvers, it takes a great deal of time to move from the 999th to the seventh. To make up for this painful shortcoming,” she continued, “the Skinless Court has been relying on the kiosk network to handle supply chain issues. The Monarch is using the Auction House System as his own personal trade depot, transferring vast stores of resources between floors.

  “That, however, is not the only thing the Court is using the network for. Although it isn’t common knowledge, the kiosk network is not just metaphysical in nature. It can also serve as a physical transit system, allowing individuals—or even whole armies—to quickly travel between floors. Although the Franchisor’s layer is on the ninety-ninth floor, the Network itself extends all the way to floor three hundred and fifty-five. The Monarch has allied himself with the Franchisor and is using the network as a way to move his forces. But if something unfortunate should happen to the Franchisor…” she trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken.

  “Then the Monarch would no longer be able to use the network to navigate through the Backrooms,” I finished, seeing exactly where this conversation was going.

  “Brilliant insight,” she said. It was impossible to miss her patronizing tone. “Now, it just so happens that it would also be in employer’s best interests if an accident were to befall the Franchisor, but once again politics prevent them from acting openly. The Franchisor is allied with the Monarch, but it also has ties to a Sovergin called the Lord of Coins. His Lordship has a tenuous truce with my employer and the Network has made the Lord of Coins an extremely wealthy man. As you might imagine, he would not be well pleased if my employer were to intervene directly. It could spark open conflict which would get messy for everyone.”

  “But if we do it,” I muttered, “then your boss has plausible deniability. We’re the fall guy.”

  “I never promised the path the greatness would be easy or safe, Dan,” the Director said. “Yes, going after the Franchisor is a risk. Yes, you are courting trouble with the Lord of Coins, but failing to act now is as good as a death sentence. When you find yourself falling off the edge of a cliff, you grab for whatever lifeline you can, even if that lifeline is serpent coiled among the rocks.

  “I am just such a serpent. Now, I won’t lie to you, killing the Franchisor will be hellishly difficult, especially considering your level. And you must act quickly if you wish to stop the Monarch’s forces before they are kicking down your door.” Something malicious twinkled in her pale eyes. “It isn’t impossible, though. You already have several advantages working in your favor.” She patted the kiosk. “I’ve also left several powerful items for you, including a map that will help you quickly reach the Franchisor’s lair using a series of spatial kiosk gateways.

  “Still, I must offer you a word of warning. The spatial gateways are guarded by powerful creatures, eternally loyal to the Monarch and the Skinless Court.” She paused and grimaced. “The Dweller who rules the twenty-fourth floor is a particularly insidious foe. Getting past it will likely prove to be problematic.” A grimace briefly flashed across her face. “Consider it a test of sorts. If you can survive what’s on twenty-four, you might just have a chance at surviving what’s to come. And, fortunately for you, my employer’s gifts should help—assuming you are bold enough to take my advice and expand your own budding kingdom by removing the Franchisor.”

  “And you mean to simply give these items to us?” Temperance asked, sounding as suspicious as I felt. “As a gesture of good will?”

  The woman’s laughter rang out like shattering glass.

  “What is astonishing to you,” she said, as her laughter subsided, “isn’t worth getting out of bed in the morning for someone like my employer. These are baubles, trinkets, and a very small price to pay when considering the potential return on investment. And if you chose not to pursue the Franchisor…” She paused and shrugged, apparently uncensored. “Well, it’s no skin off my teeth. Besides, I have faith that you’ll do the right thing, Dan. By which I mean the thing that serves your own self-interest. You’re both too smart and too desperate to do anything else.”

  Then, without another word, she turned on one heel, snapped her fingers and simply disappeared. I’d felt a strong pulse of mana, but there’d been no flash of light. No fancy portal.

  She’d been here one moment, then gone the next like a bad fever dream. Her disappearance was so abrupt, it was almost possible to think I’d imagined the whole thing.

  The cubed bodies disabused me of that notion.

  So did the items she’d left behind in the kiosk.