Tabby gazed into the mirror in Steiner's guest bedroom. It was like coming out of a dream. She traced the lacy curves of her half mask, trailing her shaky fingers along its spirals. The candlelight threw monstrous shadows across the room, across her face. Tremors raced through her body, hot and cold all at once.

She was splattered with blood from head to toe. She reeked of death. The scent clung to her like flies to a dead horse. She'd seen plenty of them keeled over in the streets before the watchmen could get someone to haul the bodies away. It wasn't something she could escape, death. Perhaps not ever.

What had she become? The very thing she abhorred? The very thing she sought to destroy?

Behind her, the door opened. Steiner's movements were cautious. "I disposed of the body and the carriage," he said at length, watching her. She turned to him then, but said nothing. Perhaps if she blinked enough, she would wake up at home, in Elias's loft, safe and warm, with the sounds of metalwork pinging away below.

Steiner stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, still studying her. He didn't look like a Spect at the moment. In fact, he looked like she remembered, before she'd learned what he really was. "Who was Clora?" he asked. She flinched. "Someone you loved?" His voice was soft, hesitant.

"Someone I loved...?" she whispered, repeating it back to him like a question. "Yes."

"Not now, but someday, I would like to hear about her." He covered the remaining distance between them, stopping short of her. Candlelight danced over him, lending an otherworldly appearance to his handsome features. "I can take care of our other marks. You've done enough."

"I..." Her body trembled harder, betraying her. She lifted her hands, stained with blood, and saw how they shook. He noticed too. Surprise caught in her chest as he took them in his, so warm and steady, and squeezed. She should have flinched at the contact. Instead, she gazed at him, seeing but unseeing. "What do you need?" he asked, dropping them at last. "Tell me."

She swallowed. "I...don't know."

"How about a hot bath? And some tea? Something to help you sleep?"

"I never sleep." The words came out strangled.

"I can't say that I do either."

"Do you...do you ever dream of it?"

"You mean the things I've done? The training? The box? Everyone I've ever killed?" He cocked his head to the side, calculating. She nodded. "Every night," he said, exhaling. "The first night you came here, when you told me what Spects are subjected to, I nearly lost my composure...from remembering. What you said—"

"The Spectrum breaks us so no one else can."

He closed his eyes before looking back at her. "Yes. No matter what comes of this, I don't think we will ever be all right. I wasn't just referring to you that night at the ball. Perhaps there isn't enough light in Candela to save either of us. We aren't simply clockwork contraptions with loose cogs that can be wound and adjusted." He grunted. "Now that's an analogy you can surely appreciate."

A dark laugh escaped her lips. But he was right. She shuddered. "We...we're doing the right thing, aren't we? Destroying the Spectrum?"

"I'd like to think so."

"I feel more of a monster than ever before."

"I know..." His movements were slow, the way one might approach a frightened cat. He brushed her cheek with his thumb, grazing the bottom of her mask, sliding over it's outline. Her skin tingled at the contact. A frown pulled at his lips. She held still as he reached around and pulled at the tie. The mask fell away, like an identity, shed and discarded. "I'd like to think that when this is all over, we might find some way to make up for what we've done," he said. "Looking towards the horizon reminds me that I'm fighting for something worthwhile, and not just for myself, but for others. It is for others that I do what I do."

She nodded, but glanced down. He held her mask, crumpled in his fist. She wasn't sure she wanted that one back. Not now—not that one.

They stood gazing at each other. Silence stretched out before them. Ever so slowly, her breathing settled and her limbs stopped shaking. "A bath sounds like a good idea, actually," she said at last.

"Good." He stepped around her into the washroom, bending over the copper tub's faucet, testing out the temperature of the water as it was drawn. He opened a bottle and poured. Bubbles. Her heart fluttered at the unexpected but welcome sight. Luxurious compared to the bathhouses.

"I'll be back with some tea." He left her standing there. She gazed after him for several long moments. When he returned, she was already submerged under a sea of bubbles, eyes closed, head leaned against the lip.

"Clara is resting. I gave her a powerful sleeping sedative. She has questions. I told her nothing of your identity."

"Thank you," she murmured, unable to so much as open her eyes.

He put a bath tray before her and set about pouring her tea. "Sugar? Cream?"

"Both, please," she croaked. There were tea cakes, she noticed when she cracked an eye open, and her stomach growled.

"The serving staff should be back any minute. I'm going...out. Is there anything else I can get you before I go?"

She didn't have the energy to ask where. And perhaps she was a little afraid to know, knowing they still had a few marks left. "No. Thank you." When she next opened her eyes, he was gone, silent as a ghost.

Nit offered to keep watch over Steiner's house, posting up on the roof, and promised to wake her should anyone suspicious appear. No one did.

***

Conrad let himself in to Albert Whitlock's manor, stealing through the darkened hallways and up to his study. Whitlock lived on the fringes of Chroma, far enough from the city's center to keep away from its chaos, but close enough to be of service to his friends, should they need him. He was a lord, after all, being second in line for the throne, next to Edwin.

Conrad tapped on Albert's study door, the sound nearly impossible to hear. Albert's face appeared moments later. "Ah. There you are." He opened it wide.

"I was delayed."

"That much I guessed." Albert crossed the room and busied himself at the liquor cabinet. "What news?" he asked over his shoulder.

Conrad snapped his fingers, much the way Tabby did, though perhaps with less finesse. Thinking of her brought a smile to his lips, though he quickly forced it away. He sent a shield of violet light to blanket their conversation. "We've eliminated three thus far, but still nothing on Ghost. Felix Lane was our latest—the reason I am late."

Albert nodded, handing Conrad a glass of gin. "She...she's been the one to..." He looked suddenly uncomfortable.

"Torture them? Yes." He took a sip.

Albert's mouth flattened into a line. "I see. And I take it she still has no idea of...?"

He gave a tight shake of his head. "No. I will tell her when she delivers on her end of the bargain." He hesitated. "Things are escalating quickly. The Spectrum assigned two more technologist marks to her with a Wednesday deadline. The bees are working well, perhaps too well."

"Two more? On top of me? Light." Albert stalked over to the sofa, lifting his coat tails before sitting down. "I suppose we could always stage my death. Send me to Ipsum, just until things calm down."

"Your cousin would want that—don't give it to him. He'd want to see you running, tail tucked between your legs. With the vote two days away, we've got a real chance at winning here. Think of all the change, of all the good this bill will do."

"Which is why you must keep our Technologist allies alive and well. Thank Light for those bees..."

"Indeed."

Albert grunted, leaning back. "Rather brilliant, if you ask me."

A smile pulled at Conrad's lips. "She is ever full of surprises. It's why I chose her."

Albert grunted. "That...and other reasons. What of your plan for the last three marks?"

"We don't know Reaper's identity. But there's still Chester Bates and Daunte Saunders." Albert appeared to consider this, then nodded. "I must hope that one of them will know."

Conrad did, too. He hated to consider the alternative. But Albert voiced what he didn't wish to when he next spoke, "If they die without giving up Ghost's identity?"

"Then we will need a new plan. And quickly."

"I trust you to manage this appropriately, as you always have."

"I will." He finished his gin, bid Albert farewell, then disappeared into the night.

***

Tabby was late to rise at half past ten, but so it seemed, was everyone else.

"They're downstairs having breakfast," Nit informed her, clicking their metallic wings with their beak as if pulling bugs from their feathers.

She freshened up and made her way to the dining room, but flinched when she found Clarabel sitting at the table, chatting casually with Steiner. He stopped mid-sentence to look at her.

"Tabby?!" Clara jumped to her feet, chair sliding out from behind her. "What...what are you doing here?"

She crossed the room. Perhaps she could play it off, pretend she had only just arrived. "Clara. Are you...okay? Steiner said you had some kind of run-in last night." She softened her voice, made it sound more natural.

Clara was too quick for such tricks. Too smart. Her eyes darted over Tabby's figure. "It...it was...no...no, it can't be..." Clara collapsed into her chair, breathing hard, eyes darting back and forth.

Tabby took a seat opposite Clara, with Steiner on her left. "I wouldn't have harmed you, surely you know that. Were it any other Spect, you would be dead. I care about you—" Her voice choked with emotion. "I couldn't...I won't...you'll have to go into hiding."

Clara squared her shoulders and her voice hardened. "My life is here. I'm indentured, remember? I have a debt to pay."

"Your debt will be paid. I'll see to it." She'd pay it a thousand times over if it meant Clara's freedom.

"No."

"What?" She studied Clara, trying to understand.

"I don't want your charity. My debt is my own to work off."

Her jaw dropped. "But you'll never work it off. That's how indenture works. You'll be paying for the rest—"

"My debt is my own," Clara repeated, silencing her.

"Please, you have to let me do this for you."

"It is only temporary, Clara," Steiner drawled. "I will ensure your safety."

"Are you one of them too, my lord?" Clara turned to Steiner, her gaze accusing. "One of those...things?"

Tabby flinched, but she deserved it.

"I am. And we're called Spects, not things."

"I know what you must think of us," Tabby said, trying to regain control of the conversation.

Clarabel's lip curled. "What did you do with...? Did you...did you kill him?" Clara was breathing hard now.

"Felix wasn't what he seemed, Clara. I am sorry that you were tangled up in this."

"No! You made me...you involved me. You made me call the coach. Made me bring him here to be, to be..." Her face turned a sickly shade.

"You had no hand in his death, believe me. We alone are responsible."

"How could you?!" Clara began to shake. "How?! All these years. You deceived me all these years."

"Felix was one of us, Clara. He was a Spect. Please do not think of him as innocent in all of this."

Clara made a choking sound. "I'm beyond that! You deceived me, Tabby. You were my friend and..." A strangled laugh escaped her chest. "That explains all the weapons." She shook her head. "I may be a whore, but I'm not worthless. I thought that you..."

She flenched at the use of the word she hated so much. "I care about you, Clara. Surely you know the truth would have gotten you killed, sooner or later."

"And now?" Clara huffed.

"Now? The game has changed. Steiner will hide you. Please forgive me for dragging you into this. It...was not my intention."

"I suppose I should be grateful that you didn't kill me." She wouldn't look up from her plate now.

"Clara..."

Steiner cleared his throat. "Perhaps I should leave you two to discuss—"

"Yes, good id—" Tabby began to cut him off right as Clara said, "No!" and shot to her feet. Then added, "Tabby and I have nothing to discuss. And I'm quite finished with my breakfast. I'll be in my room."

They waited for her to disappear.

"That went rather...well."

"Oh, shut up," she hissed, turning her focus to the food on the table. She poured some coffee and set about eating, but the food went down all wrong.

"She'll come around," Steiner said, voice low. "Give her time."

"I've got training with Midnight this afternoon," she managed through a mouthful. "I'd like to return to the workshop first, pack a few of Elias's things to send along to him. Plus, I've got a few projects there I'd like to work on."

Steiner nodded. "I don't think the Spectrum is suspicious of you yet, but as soon as the council receives word of your activities at the precinct and learns of another missing Spect..."

Oh. Right. That. It felt like a long time ago, but it had only been two days. "When will they know? Will they tell you?"

"Word gets around. I'm sure it will reach me soon enough. Tabby...be on guard."

"Right. And what are you going to do today?" She eyed him.

"Have a deeper look into our dear friend Daunte Saunders's private life." She nodded, pleased that he was doing some of the work for once. "I can't promise I'll take him today, but I'd like to scope out his residence, comings and goings, all that. Any tips?" He lifted an eyebrow.

"Ha-ha. Very funny. You're a full mask. You don't need tips from me." A sudden thought came to her. "My black prism. You used white at the precinct. Am I to guess that you can also use black?"

He leaned back in his chair, eying her. "No," he said at last. "I am not so fortunate."

"Which is why you had no problem handing it over." She chewed on that for a moment. "Perhaps Elias was right."

"About?"

"He thinks I'm Light Touched." She snorted. "As if Light—in its right mind—would ever grant me such abilities after all I've done."

Steiner shrugged. "One never knows. Some say Light is a fickle being. We cannot begin to understand its—"

"Oh quit with the supreme-being bullshit."

Steiner laughed then. "Just trying to lighten the mood." He drained his coffee and stood. "Be careful with Midnight, Tabby. I do not know what side of the spectrum he falls on." A smile at his own pun stretched across his face.

"The wrong side, I'm sure."

"Don't be so quick to judge him. He might surprise us yet. Did you know—" He hesitated. "Midnight was offered a position on the council once, a few years ago?"

"What?!" She sat up straight. Midnight had never revealed this to her. All this time she'd assumed he was passed over for Reaper.

"As you can imagine, he refused. I always found that...interesting. Don't you? That he'd refuse something so...prestigious? Other Spects wouldn't dream of declining the offer. In fact, to my knowledge, no masker has ever refused such an honor." With that, he gave her a nod and strode from the room, leaving her to grapple alone with her surprise.