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Augustus slid his young legs carefully out of bed, slowly traversing the room in the nude, brushing hands over furniture that felt familiar. Half it was surely because he remembered his own dorm room, if not related to these people in his life. But half of it was familiar in a way he couldn’t put a name to. 

There was the bed, a bookcase, a wardrobe, and a writing desk with a gramophone on it. A quick glance at the bookcase just showed the sort of research books that he’d expect, along with a few novels and cylinders for the gramophone, a gas burner, a pitcher, a teapot, some tins of tea. Augustus turned his attention to the writing desk, carefully sliding a drawer open.

The first thing he found were stacks of letters from Vii’s family; Vii had a large family, and they clearly loved him dearly. Or perhaps, Augustus thought as he skimmed them, it was a combination of that and needing to maintain some kind of control even at a distance. Augustus saw constant reminders of their expectations for Vii as a magician, references to him being the future of the family, gushing declarations of love that wrapped up reminders that he needed to do their best for him.

He moved those aside; beneath them was a little box, which he opened. He felt his heart flutter as he looked into it. There were love tokens in there, and while he couldn’t recognize the context, Augustus knew they were from him: a lock of hair, a drop of blood dried in a bottle, a necklace with an ornamented symbol on it he recalled to have been one a lover gave to another in a book that he’d read. That they both must have read. There were letters beneath these, and he carefully opened one to find it a passionate declaration of eternal devotion, written in his own handwriting.

Well, he had clearly made that a lie, he thought with an unusual stab of regret.

The rest of the letters in there were the same: love letters, reminisces of the time they’d shared. Mentions of a picnic, of a play they attended, of a time they went skinny-dipping in a river nearby and wrestled a nix into laughing submission. A description of a meal that they’d shared which he’d clearly loved. He smiled a little to himself and flipped through them to the last one. This one was a love confession letter, but it was from Soren rather than himself, written in a stilted tone and nearly an apology. It didn’t have much detail, simply saying that Soren cared for Vii, and that he knew his affections may not be welcome, but he wanted to offer them nonetheless, and that he knew that Vii’s heart lay with Augustus and that he meant no harm toward that.

The letters were all only the incoming correspondence, of course. Even when Augustus was just trying to prompt his own buried memory for details, it would make no sense to see the responses here, as they clearly would have been sent. And while he could guess what Vii’s responses to his own letters were based on the fact he’d just woken in bed with him, he did not know how Vii would have written back to Soren. Perhaps it didn’t matter. He closed the box and it snapped shut, locking. Interesting.

In another box in a separate drawer were Vii’s personal papers, his identification and certificate of birth. Things someone would access if anything happened to Vii, Augustus thought somberly. On the top of this box was a new letter, recently folded and crisp. It said:

If you’re reading this, what we’ve tried to do has gone horribly wrong. I do not want to get into detail, as I want nobody to be blamed except for myself.

I, along with a few close friends, am going to attempt to summon something nobody has ever summoned before. We have access to the nearby planes, but we intend to reach something inaccessible. If Conjuration is surgery into a body that is across from ours, we intend to tear open the space between our bodies instead and invasively remove something.

I do this because I need to know. I need to see what’s out there. I need to look beyond me and thee and see what lies between, and what lies beyond. I am so tired of dichotomies, of good or bad, of myself and other, of filial duty and personal responsibility. I want to see if there’s a third choice. I want to see this by violating planar dichotomy. Whatever happens to me, it is my own fault for doing the things that we are not supposed to do.

I do this without knowing if I’ll live or die, physically. I do not know if my soul will remain, be taken, or be destroyed. I don’t care. I need to know. I need to see that there’s more than what I’ve seen so far. If all goes in a mediocre manner, neither well nor poorly, you will never read this letter. But if I do something incredible, or something terrible, I’m sure you will.

I love you, Olivia. Be well, but do not be as well as me.

-Violin.

Augustus folded that and put it back, turning almost automatically to the wardrobe and searching there instead. It was mostly clothes that looked like the sort Vii would certainly wear, though he found a few pieces of clothing he knew were his own. It made sense that he’d store things here to wear after staying over, though of course he knew he had his own dorm room as well. This was just the evidence of another person’s life after they had made room for sharing it with someone else.

Augustus closed the wardrobe door and crumpled for a moment, crouched, breathing hard, one hand splayed on the floor, the other on the wood of the closet. He couldn’t remember grief, wasn’t sure when he had stopped having grief, but this was the closest he’d felt to it in such a very long time, because he was suddenly desperately aware of having once had something incredible, something that he’d lost and hadn’t even realized he’d lost.

There was movement in his hair, and a small, iridescent beetle dropped to his shoulder, skittering across his skin, settling in the dip of his collarbone. It buzzed, but didn’t say anything. Augustus didn’t say anything back either, though he raised a finger and lightly stroked it down the beetle’s back. What could he even say to this? Enmity was simply seeing what Augustus was seeing, processed through his own mind. Enmity would know Augustus loved him regardless; would likely not even consider otherwise, given the shape of their relationship. Besides, Augustus had sworn himself to him, handed his soul over in exchange for a ring, as he understood was the way things should be in a marriage. They were each other’s, regardless of the past. The brutal grip of realization and old promises had little sway in the face of things he had built for himself since.

He rose again, feelings under control, and returned to the bed. He carefully put the beetle down on the bedside table, and gently nudged Vii’s shoulder. “Vii, wake up.”

Vii let out a groan and turned over, scrunching his face up and wrinkling his nose. “No, I don’t think I shall.”

Augustus let himself indulge and leaned down, giving Vii a lingering kiss. It was desperately familiar. Vii kissed back sleepily, with a muffled laugh, draping an arm around Augustus’s shoulders. “Already?” he murmured. “I don’t know if I can—” 

“No,” Augustus murmured, pulling back a short distance, reluctant. “Since things are going to happen so soon … I want to talk, Vii.”

“Ugh.” Vii shifted back too, slowly sitting up, propping his bare upper back against the wall. “I hate those words.”

“Nothing bad,” Augustus promised. “I just … I’m scared, I suppose. Or intimidated, more accurately. Everything may change soon, right?” He felt like he was roleplaying a self he could no longer remember, but that was fine. It was all in his own mind anyway. What was key was trying to tap into a core of emotional honesty, so he could get the same in return from his own mind. A brutally unfair thing to ask of himself, really. “So I want to make sure that I know everything there is to you. So that whatever happens, we have more of each other to hang on to.”

Vii let out a startled laugh. “Damn. Well. All right. Shift over.”

Augustus did, giving room for Vii to get up if he wanted to. “Why did you never introduce me to your family? I know they’re very attentive and love you a lot, so—”

Vii swung his legs out of bed; this time it was his turn to pace the room, naked, lanky. Not a bad sight, Augustus had to admit. He had no reason to force himself to keep his eyes on Vii’s face, so after a moment, he stopped forcing himself to.

“It’s complicated,” Vii said. He grabbed a cylinder from the shelf and put it into the gramophone; something light and airy began to play, a galant-style song. He got the gas lit on the burner and began to make tea. “My family is … yes, they are attentive. I can say that. They’re a large family, merchant class. For a long time, nobody had the knack for magic, but some grandparent or parent or whatever must have had some latent ability that got picked up when new folks married in, because my generation has been producing some magicians. They’ve made a lot of their merchanting life, and they view us as their chance to improve their lot even further. Allowing the Spiders to spin our webs wide, they say.”

Augustus made a face that made Vii laugh again. “So?”

“They put family first and expect everyone else to as well,” Vii said, shrugging. “Not uncommon, I know. But they don’t really get personal freedoms. Right now, you’re something that’s just mine. You’re mine. If I introduced you to my family, they’d all have an opinion on it and they’d expect that their opinions would carry weight. I just … I just want the freedom to be in love.”

“Ah,” Augustus said.

“I mean,” Vii said hurriedly, “obviously we plan to stay together. So depending on what happens with the ritual, I’ll have to introduce you to them someday. But then, it’d be nice to bring you to them with the strength of years behind our relationship.”

That faint ache was back again. Augustus tried to ignore it. “Are your siblings like that as well? Surely that level of demand at least gets split among you.”

“Some of my siblings and cousins have the knack, most do not. My twin does, of course. Olivia. You know about them! I’m very proud of them. She knows who she wants to be, and however changeable that is, she wants us to embrace it. Olivia got all the charisma between us, of course.”

“Liar,” Augustus said.

Vii finished pouring the water over the leaves and turned the burner off, then smiled at Augustus, pleased. “Well, no, they didn’t. We’re both feral little creatures our parents despair of and worry about the way a collar worries about a dog. But Olivia has better figured out how to get people to like her, and is willing to take those steps.”

“‘A collar’ is pretty harsh.”

“Not a choke chain. One of those nice leather things with the dog’s name on it, tied nicely to a stake outside a doghouse so the dog can be comfortable and warm.”

Augustus didn’t have to fake a wince. “Aren’t you worried about what Olivia might think or do if something goes wrong with our ritual?”

“Hah!” Vii was staring at the pot, as if willing the leaves to steep faster. “No, I don’t worry about things like that. If it were Olivia doing this, she’d worry about what I’d think or do. Olivia has a mind like a trap and always tries to think through every detail. That’s why even though they have the knack, they’re studying law, not magic. She’ll make an excellent lawyer. A far cry from when we used to break into the neighbors’ homes together and rifle through their stuff while they were out. Nope, I don’t care what she thinks or feels about it. I hope not to cause them suffering, of course. But it’s not about them.”

“You’re not worried about what’ll happen?”

“Of course I am!” Vii said. He put a hand against the teapot and Augustus watched his fingers redden, but he left it there as long as he could before pulling it back. “I don’t know what’ll happen. But I hope … I don’t know. It’s half the desire to discover something. To be the very first to see something. To share that with other truth seekers. You and Soren. Maybe it’s just escapism.”

“I’ve noticed that you’re not happy,” Augustus ventured. It was a guess, but frustrated discontent seemed to be radiating off Vii. Happy people didn’t break the laws of Conjuration.

Vii’s shoulders sagged. “I try to hide it from you. I love you! I don’t want you to think it’s because of you! I’m just …” He sighed. “Wrong, I guess. Why do you want to do this?”

Augustus thought. He didn’t know why the him back then would have wanted to, of course. But he knew himself well enough to guess. “It seems fun,” Augustus said. “And I want more. I’m a hungry, greedy person who wants the world to pay attention to me. I conjured something when I was young, you know? When my knack developed.” Why was he saying this? Had he said it back then? Was it just nice to have an audience who didn’t exist? “It hunted my family down. It was only luck that I survived. And if I could do that, what else could I conjure? Why would it even let me live if it wasn’t for something? If my life is pointless, what would I even do! So it can’t be. I’m just—I’m just like every other Conjurer. We all learn really fast that everything that makes us up is a bartering chip to the things we can call to us. Identities to the fey, souls to the demons, breath to the elementals, blood to the dead, thoughts to uncanny creatures. Hearts to whatever we want, I guess. If we exist only as a collection of tokens that can be broken up and spread among the things we conjure, then what are we? Can their desire for us not mean something? Why not take control over them? Why not demand their attention and live knowing we’ve captured them?”

The beetle shifted, turning to watch Vii pour the tea. Augustus tried not to look at him.

“Maybe it’s something like that,” Vii said. “With my family, every moment of my day was so controlled. And then my knack showed, and that was even better for their needs. They decided I’d go to school, so I went to school, and every day we take classes on how to control it, how to confine it. Wards, protections, contracts, the rules of conjuration and summoning, the things one simply does not do. I’m so hungry to make my own choices, even the bad ones. Especially the bad ones. I’m so tired of being good, the perfect little Spiders child.” He was crying a little now; though he was trying to speak normally through it, the tears were running down his face. “I just want—”

There was a knock at the door. “It’s time,” Augustus heard through it. Soren’s voice. “Go separately, one at a time. Don’t draw attention. We’ll see you there in an hour.”

“We didn’t even have time to have the tea,” Vii said. He put the cups down, came over, took Augustus’s face between his reddened, overheated hands, and knocked his head against Augustus’s. “I love you,” he said, choked. “I love you. No matter what’s wrong with me, know that’s true.”

Augustus’s vision swam, and for a horrible moment, he thought he was crying too—but it cleared, and he realized he was outside in the woods, dressed properly for walking, right outside a cave that had a fire lit in it. He glanced down, recognizing one of the outfits that had been in Vii’s closet, and seeing the beetle on his chest. “I love you,” he whispered to Enmity. “I need you.”

“Who’s there?” someone called from the cave urgently, so he turned his attention to that at once instead of waiting for an answer, walking in.

Someone had drawn a fantastic array all over the cave. In the middle of one of the looping swirls of sigils was a bowl, with a few things in there already, a lock of hair, a puddle of what looked like semen. Soren relaxed when Augustus came in, then saw him looking at the bowl and looked away, a severe expression crossing his face that Augustus realized took the place of embarrassment.

Vii was sitting on a rock in his shirtsleeves, one rolled up, a knife in his hand but his skin as of yet unpierced. “You’re late,” he said, grinning, the firelight flickering uncannily across his features. “Slowpoke.”

“We were told to come separately and attract no notice,” Augustus retorted.

Soren cut into their banter. “Sorry, but things are already starting to congeal. We shouldn’t dawdle. What do you want to put in there, Augustus? What kind of essence as an offering?”

It could be anything, of course. Different things appealed to different creatures. He could breathe, bleed, come, cry, offer symbolic representations of other elements of himself, whatever. Maybe better not to double up too much; a collection of different options would be a good idea if they were trying to appeal to something the nature of which they didn’t know, and it looked like only a few of the options had already been offered.

Augustus wondered what he would have given back then; if he could figure it out, he might understand his own intentions a little better. But more important than that might be the chance to study their setup, or question Soren, before the memory moved on.

[What should Augustus do?
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No, Augustus decided. Forget telling Soren ‘anything’—it was time to tell Soren everything. At this point, the information Soren didn’t have was hampering them both, and Soren’s own memory gaps were something he must be struggling desperately to fill. It would be nice to have someone in the same situation on his side when they dealt with this, and maybe, if he had enough information, he’d have better insights. So everything it was.

Well, except maybe telling him about Augustus’s husband being a demon lord. That one wasn’t really Augustus’s to disclose anyway, when he thought about it. If he were a demon lord, and his husband went around telling people without permission, he’d be pretty offended. 

The ritual to summon Enmity through physically was significantly simpler and faster than their regular calls, simply because Augustus didn’t need to set up a buffer of voidspace and define it as separate and overlapping to the real world. The issue was the planar definitions, as he’d long believed. If there was this plane and the other planes, then by forcing something of another plane into this world, this plane would protest. By building adjacent space, it avoided conflicting with this plane’s definitions-of-self. 

A physical summoning was somewhat different. He set the candles, built the magic circle, and summoned Enmity of the Dark Phlogiston through.

For a moment, his husband was standing in front of him in his true glory but also bodied, real and physical and present. Augustus ached to step across the lines of the circle and touch him—but doing it too quickly would cross the line of traditional summoning ritual and would make the planar definitions put up their guard too fast.

Instead, Enmity transformed, wrapping his essence in human flesh, his human disguise. He was still a little uncanny, too-pale: Tall, white-haired, wearing a white suit, his flesh icy pale, his eyes so light a blue they appeared to be gray. White was all visible colours at once, and thus bore some secret similarity to the iridescence of his actual form in a way that he couldn’t otherwise express through a normal human body.

Once that was in place, Augustus scuffed out the protective circle, letting Emmet Darkfire step across the line and dip him to kiss him.

Reality protested briefly, and then fell into line, fooled by the human disguise—for now, anyway. It would only be a matter of time, a few days at most, before the planes caught wise again and would force Emmet out. It would then reinforce its boundaries against him, leaving him inaccessible for a time. And so it would be until the nature of the planes changed.

But for now, he was all Augustus’s.

Augustus broke the kiss reluctantly, with a sigh. “Ah, darling, I have so much to tell you,” he said and summarized the last day: the research in the library, the almost-certain connection to Olivia Spiders, the multiple blackmails, his tenuous alliance with Fitzfleming. “And now Soren’s coming over, and I think I should simply be transparent with him. Tell him everything we’ve learned. We know that Olivia befriended him; he might have information we need.”

“Mmm.” Emmet slid a possessive arm around Augustus, guiding him up the stairs to his townhouse proper, shutting the door to his basement workroom behind them. “I agree, we might as well.” Emmet always talked so normally when he was Emmet instead of Enmity, Augustus thought a little crankily. He had to; every part of him was a disguise right now. But it was no good at all. “Keep in mind that it’s risky, though. Soren doesn’t know that he previously lost someone, or whatever part he had to play in it. We can’t account for human emotions.”

“We can’t, but I think it’s better that we help him be the one to find out about it than be people withholding it from him at the time he does find out,” Augustus pointed out.

“I’m not arguing, sweets,” Emmet said. He went into the kitchen and turned on the gas so he could get some tea on. “Get some food started for me, I want to taste things while I’m here. Anyway, beside that, you might want to withhold—well, me, especially if you hope that I can do a proper divination on you both. You can tell him what I am if you decide you want or need to, but keep in mind that you and I are in a precarious position here, and we will have to kill him if he’s going to end up panicking over it. Can’t afford to have him telling people before we’re ready.”

Augustus nodded. That was reasonable. “Yes, let’s withhold it for now. If we need to explain your powers, we can use the usual excuse.”

As Emmet had asked him to, and since he needed to eat anyway, he got dinner on, and fed Emmet occasional spoonfuls from the pot as he finished up the chicken and basil pasta. Emmet spiked his tea and sat contentedly at Augustus’s kitchen table, hands wrapped around the mug as he watched Augustus work.

When the knock at the door came, dinner was about ready. Well, they might as well eat while they talk, Augustus decided.

He thankfully beat Emmet to the door, answering it with a smile. Soren had clearly dressed up, wearing a marbled suit that seemed to glisten as if it were made of stone itself, and he was carrying a small bottle of wine with the anxious attitude of someone who had picked between that and flowers and was hoping he hadn’t made the wrong decision. “Good evening,” Soren said, shyly. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Me too,” Augustus lied; he’d been far too busy to look forward to it one way or another. “Please come in. I have someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

He let Soren in and shut the door behind him, then turned to see Emmet lounging insouciant against the wall in the entryway. Soren was staring at him, both a little jealous and absolutely gobsmacked, which was a fair reaction to Emmet even in his less-impressive human form. “Or perhaps he’d like to introduce himself,” Augustus said dryly.

“No, no, go ahead, darling,” Emmet drawled.

“Soren, please meet my husband, Emmet Darkfire.”

“Oh—I knew you were going to talk to him, but I hadn’t realized …” Soren put the bottle of wine on the side table and stepped forward, offering his hand.

Emmet took it as if to shake, then turned it over and kissed the back of it. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

Soren’s complexion didn’t show blushes well, but if his expression were anything to go by, his heart must be pounding and his face warm. “Ah, the feeling’s mutual.”

Oh a threesome was absolutely on the table, Augustus thought absently. Probably not now, and it’d be improper to do if he didn’t give more accurate information about Emmet, but in terms of possibilities? Yes, absolutely. And Soren must be thinking the same thing, given the last thing they talked about.

Augustus cleared his throat. “Soren, I’ve made dinner, and if you’re hungry you’re welcome to have a plate. I’d wanted to get the time to know you properly here, but—with what’s been happening, I’m not sure I have the time.”

A series of complicated expressions crossed Soren’s face. “What do you mean?”

“Come and eat,” Augustus invited. He served plates to all three of them, then sat, and as he ate he began to explain.

As he’d planned to do, he told Soren everything that mattered. He told Soren about coming back with the lock of hair and having Emmet help him divine into their pasts; he described the scenes he encountered in as much detail as his memory would allow him to summon. Soren went pale about halfway through and put his fork down, and Emmet interjected a quiet, “You should probably eat, if you can. You’ll need the strength for the time to come.”

Augustus didn’t let that interruption stop his flow of words, however.  He finished the description of the divination, though he left out his suspicions that one or the other of them had sabotaged the ritual; even if Soren had, it had happened so long ago, and besides, Soren couldn’t remember it—things had changed since then, no matter what, and it wasn’t fair to bring up a theory simply to hurt Soren with it.

He moved on from there to the morning after: his investigations in the library, his discovery of Vii being Violin Spiders. Soren put up a quick protest then, a, “There’s no way that Liv is related to this,” that Augustus cut off with a wave of his hand as he pushed on. He described his own suspicions of Olivia and watched Soren sit there with thin lips, just listening. And then the blackmailing—the multiple blackmailings, though he left out what either of them were being blackmailed for out of deference to their own deeply personal situations.  

“And so,” he concluded, “someone has been stealing from me, someone is targeting me specifically for my research at the least, and that someone has been blackmailing people around me to try to do this. And Olivia Spiders is most likely associated with Violin Spiders. Olivia Spiders has been working on a paper that I’ve heard is somewhat similar to mine, even though that’s not their usual field. I’d like to know more about your relationship with Olivia and what you’ve told them.”

Soren had managed to finish most of his plate, at least, though not all of it. He sat pushing what was left around with a fork absently. “I don’t … remember Vii at all,” he admitted. “I knew there was another person, and your description matches the little I recall, but you telling me didn’t make me remember more of him. I feel kind of… upset by that, honestly. I feel like I should know him.”

“You may yet still, if we divine again,” Emmet murmured.

“It didn’t jog my memory either,” Augustus said. “I remember only what I saw in the divination itself. It seemed as if we’d been together a while, but it’s all gone now.”

Soren nodded once, jerkily. “As for Olivia … I don’t want to think the worst of her, you know. I don’t want to think that our friendship was a lie. They welcomed me when I first came here, and we spend time together after work quite a bit. But they do know about my memory loss. From what I could tell, we talked about this and that until it simply came up naturally. And if they’d looked me up after the … incident … then they’d have known I had that problem and could have steered the conversation around to making me be the one to bring it up.”

“Indeed,” Augustus murmured. He hadn’t had similar conversations with Olivia, but then, he had been left out of the article he’d found. Olivia might not have initially known that Augustus been involved. Not until Soren had told her about his vague scraps of memory and his own sense of knowing Augustus. 

But had Vii really never written to his family about his relationship with Augustus …? Not impossible, of course, but these were the questions he had to ask himself.

“It does make her paper more suspicious, given your stolen research,” Soren admitted reluctantly. 

“Can you tell me more about the paper?”

“I haven’t yet read it,” Soren said. “Olivia said that however close we were, they couldn’t have a peer read her work, it was too risky if someone else published something similar. Ironic, if they were stealing your work. The paper’s title, though, I got. It’s ‘Outside the Planar Influence: Why Spiritual Definitions Need Redefining.'”

“Oh, she’s absolutely stealing my work, then,” Augustus said, trying to rein in his sudden fury. “Absolutely, Olivia’s the one blackmailing people and having them steal my shit. That’s exactly what I’ve been working on. Specifically.”

“They told me they knew something was out there, and as researchers, they needed to find out more so that contracts could be redrawn appropriately to cover these ‘edge cases’,” Soren said helplessly. “She never implied she had a personal stake in it.”

“Outrageous,” Augustus declared. He looked to Emmet and found Emmet grinning at him with his pearly-white, flat, human teeth showing. “It is!”

“Darling, I know. But at least you can ride coattails, even if you can’t lead the way.”

“No, it’s mine.”

“I know, darling.”

“They never blackmailed me,” Soren interrupted. “Or haven’t yet. I suppose there’s no need to, since I’m new, but—I have to agree. What you’ve said seems to be more than simply wanting to publish first, if they’re related to Vii. And if they were just stealing your research for the academic credit, why blackmail someone for your ambrotype as well?”

Emmet said, “Sounds like maybe she wants to do divination too. It’d be harder for them to do than for me, of course, so a picture of you might do a good job to give something to build off of. That or she has suspicions of our relationship, darling.”

“But why not steal one of my pictures, then?” Soren asked.

“She’s needed you on her side, right?” Augustus suggested. “Maybe that’s it. If they found out from you I was somehow involved in the incident, then targeting me keeps their relationship with you ‘clean’. And they were targeting me for my research anyway, so why not steal more while they were at it?” 

Soren nodded slowly, reluctantly. “Speaking of divination. Emmet, you said that you did the last one? And that it’s easy for you? Because I think we should use my physical presence here for a more powerful divination. But is it really so simple? I know divination is unreliable at best …”

Emmet draped an arm behind Augustus’s chair. “Don’t go around telling anyone this, as it could certainly hurt Augustus’s flawless reputation, but I’m a diabolist. So I get some magical perks others don’t.”

Augustus was a conjurer; he could summon any number of spirits from the other planes, including demons—from other locations in planar space, he reminded himself, if he were to redefine planar reality he’d have to start with himself first. He was also a diabolist, because he’d made a contract with a demon. A diabolist was simply someone who was in some way involved with demons in a way that gave them some access to that demonic power. Augustus kept his magic as straight spellcasting with all its terms and agreements, generally, but he certainly had access to powerful demonic magic if he needed it.

A diabolist may not be as formally trained as a magician was, but conjurers and diabolists obviously often moved in similar circles. Many knew each other, so it was a half-lie with plenty of things that could back it up. And Emmet, well, wasn’t a human who had made a contract, but was certainly involved with demons. As it were.

“I see,” Soren said. He gave Augustus a curious expression, but if he’d put things together yet, there was no sign of it. “Will it be harmful?”

“Not at all. There’s some demonic edge to it that you might pick up if you feel me there, but don’t fight it if you do,” Emmet said. “I swear to you, I can make it so this demon will not harm you in the course of the divination. But I’ll need to be present and watching along as I do the divination, because some of the things in there mess with your ability to process your memories. Probably why you can’t actually remember it. I’ll need to split myself and watch you both, especially since your memories might diverge—not all the scenes I see will necessarily have you both together.”

Soren was silent for a long moment. “I see. I’ll give you my trust in this. I don’t see what else I can do.”

“Come with me,” Augustus said, offering Soren a hand. “We should get comfortable. We’re essentially going to be unconscious, so we’ll need to lay down.”

Soren’s hand slipped into his, faintly clammy; he was nervous. Augustus, impulsively, gave that hand a reassuring squeeze as he led Soren to his bedroom—his actual bedroom, not the bed downstairs in his workroom, since that still had all the setup of demon summoning in it. 

They lay down together on the bed, and Soren shifted uneasily, staring up at the ceiling. “This wasn’t exactly how I imagined being in bed with you,” he said.

Emmet barked a laugh. The metaphysical wind began to swell around them. “Well, it’s not going to be as fun, but we’ll see what happens later.”

Augustus opened his mouth to scold Emmet, and then he realized he was somewhere else.

It was the school dorm room that he remembered from before—Vii’s room. There was a warm lump of blankets next to him, and he sat up slowly, turning over and tugging the blankets back to look.

Vii was sleeping deeply, looking content, smiling and curled up, lashes heavy on his cheek, the nape of his neck bare. Augustus felt the sudden absurd urge to kiss that exposed part of his neck, but didn’t do it.

He could wake Vii, he knew. But it would be harder to look around the area if he did, since Vii would be up and interacting with him. He felt like he perhaps had more freedom to explore than he’d had in the last divination. Perhaps due to the better materials provided, he was more able to interact as his current self, instead of just being along for the ride. He couldn’t change the past, one way or another—he was in his own head, rather than back in the past—but it might give him the freedom to see things from angles he hadn’t let himself notice in the past, or ask questions and see if his own suppressed memory could tease out the answer for him.

Soren wasn’t here, he noticed. It was just him and Vii in Vii’s room.

[What should Augustus do?
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Well, he needed to question Fitzfleming. Augustus was sure of that. Just taking her to Ethics might stop the robberies, but if she was being blackmailed, it wouldn’t get to the root of the problem.

He turned and looked at Yujin. “Skylar?”

Yujin and Skylar both seemed surprised that the spirit was being addressed directly. “Yes?” Skylar asked cautiously, through Yujin.

“Can ghosts sense magic? I want to know if Fitzfleming has any stored spells on her person, since that rather helps determine the risks here.” 

Yujin’s head shook, a short, jerky motion that wasn’t characteristic of them. “No, I can’t. Maybe a magician’s ghost could, I don’t know. But I’m just a spirit. I’m not magic at all.”

That was a matter of theory, but he didn’t want to get into it with her right now when he was on such a schedule. Drat. He was going to have to assume Fitzfleming was potentially armed, in that case.

Augustus made eye contact with Yujin and firmly grasped their shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. “Here’s what I need you to do, Yujin. I need you to get away from here and get safe. You weren’t seen here by Fitzfleming or anyone else, and you wouldn’t be expected to be here. So if anything happens to me, you can go to the top with what you know. The Dean or the board. And if nothing does, and I decide to take it to Ethics, I can have you as a witness.”

“But if she’s a thief and blackmailer, shouldn’t you bring her in right now?” Yujin asked.

Shaking his head, Augustus said, “I don’t believe she’s the blackmailer. I suspect she’s also being blackmailed. If she could just blackmail you into taking things from me, why would she break in herself? So I need to assume there’s information I need to get. I can decide what to do after that.”

“Okay,” Yujin said softly. 

“So I can’t tip my hand to the blackmailer yet. You get it? That being the case, I need you to pretend you didn’t come to me with their attempts to blackmail you. I need you to pretend as if you were too afraid of the truth coming out to talk to me.” He squeezed again. “Go to your meeting tomorrow and see if you can find out what they want from you. Hopefully I’ll get information from Fitzfleming that will let me put things together with whatever you learn. I trust you, Yujin. The fact you came to me means so much to me. I know you won’t betray me, so know that I won’t betray you. When I leave this office, I’ll rap on your door once when I pass by if everything’s fine and you can go with this plan I just laid out. I’ll knock twice if there’s a change in plans and I need you to come with me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Yujin said again. Their eyes had welled up a little but they looked … better than Augustus had seen them in a while. Confident, calmer, relieved. “It’s a plan.”

Augustus squeezed their shoulders one last time, then released them. “Go.”

He locked up after Yujin when they left. The last thing he wanted was for anyone else to walk in on this.

The rest he did in a hurry. He tied Fitzfleming quickly, using the lengths of cord for tying his curtains back, though he was confident enough in his experiences with rope to be sure that she wouldn’t be able to get the knot undone herself. He rifled through her pockets quickly—he was neither boorish enough to search more thoroughly nor did he have the time even if he were comfortable crossing that line—and found nothing except another note. This one read, I have another job for you. Fetch me the ambrotype of Pennywright and his husband from his desk. Leave it in the usual spot Fourthsday morning. If you are unable to acquire it, leave an explanation as to why.

That was particularly telling, then. Fitzfleming was simply someone’s catspaw. Augustus turned her to face away from the desk to make it harder to target him with any stored spells she had, and then he ducked back behind the desk again. It made him feel a little silly, a little small, but a shield was a shield.

Then he waited.

When she began to make shocked, outraged sounds, he knew she could hear him. He spoke up. “Good afternoon, Fitzfleming. Shame to have to meet again this way. You can only listen for now, so please listen carefully.”

She fell silent, breathing hard. He nodded to himself. “You need to know I’ve already informed someone else that you were here, and I have told them not to tell anyone else—yet. But if anything happens to me, you will immediately be brought before the board. Make one sound to indicate you’ve heard and understood me.”

Fitzfleming said, clear and brief, “Hn.”

“Good,” Augustus said. He tried to fit more comfortably under his desk than his larger frame was really capable of. “I know what you were looking for, and I know you were being blackmailed to get it. So again, unless you want to get dragged right to Ethics and take the sole blame for what is happening here, I need you to tell me everything you know. I may let you go if you do. I can hardly blame you for being used by someone else.”

The next sound was odd, and it took him a moment to realize that Fitzfleming was crying very softly. It didn’t last long—only twenty seconds or so, he thought—and given the emotional strain she had recently been under, it was understandable. Especially since it was one of the few things she were capable of right now.

But it made him uncomfortable to listen to. He listened nevertheless, eyes closed.

She did get it under control quickly, though, and by the time she had control over her tongue back, her voice was calm and remote. Almost normal for her. “You’re right that I never wanted to do this. I would have normally thought myself above these things. Stealing ideas is already something I’ve frowned on. Actually stealing from a colleague even more so.”

“It did seem a little uncharacteristic, for all that we’ve never exactly been friends.” Augustus drummed his fingers on the floor beneath his desk. “Go on.”

“There is an … incident in my past,” she said. “Long enough ago that I didn’t think anyone would ever find out about it. But apparently someone did. I was told that my secret would be revealed unless I acquired certain research materials that you were hoarding. I presume so that this person could use them. It happened very recently; it’s been less than a week.”

“I see,” Augustus said. That fit the timeline as he understood it. “Why did this blackmailer want the ambrotype?”

“Their note didn’t say,” she said. Which he knew already, as he was holding onto it; he’d hoped she might have met her blackmailer in person. But that was seeming less likely. “I have theories, of course. I’d already been unsuccessful in acquiring biological material from your office when asked to try to find some along with the books. I presume that the blackmailer is a fellow magician, and wanted some kind of hook into you. Or into your husband, I suppose, since that would then also provide a reason for you to do whatever they want.”

Imagining someone trying to hold his husband hostage almost drew an actual laugh from his throat, but he swallowed it down. Better to give nothing away at all. “Have you met your blackmailer in person? Do you have any idea who they are?”

“I don’t know,” Fitzfleming said. She let out an aggravated sigh that was so typical of her that Augustus found himself torn between annoyance and sympathy. “They left notes and a drop-off location for the goods, which was accompanied by further notes. Whoever it was must be very good at digging up information on other people’s pasts, obviously. Someone with a mind for details and strong skills at spotting gaps or inconsistencies. I’ve been trying to figure out why I was targeted, and have a few thoughts on that as well. I’m not in the same department as you, so I’m more likely to avoid immediate scrutiny—or would at least be a good distraction. I also recently wrote a paper similar to the one you’re said to be working on, though obviously my goal was to discredit your ideas before you could even publish yours. You’ve been looking into redefining planar concepts; I wrote about forcing a strict distinction in definitions between natural and unnatural spirits.”

“Yes, you did,” he said flatly. He wasn’t exactly pleased to hear that she’d published at least partly to get ahead of his work, but interdepartmental rivalries could be like that.

“Finally, of course, I had a secret that was strong enough that I could be used. It’s possible that the blackmailer hadn’t found another person like that yet.”

Yet. But then they found out about Yujin, somehow. “And what is that secret?”

“You think I’d tell you?! I did all this specifically to avoid it getting out!”

“Yes,” Augustus said patiently. “And if you were really just being used, I need proof of it. If you have a life-destroying secret, then I am compelled to believe you’d act to protect it, and perhaps do not need to drag you in front of Ethics, the board, and your peers. If you do not have one, though, then I have no evidence that you’re not spinning another lie now. I want to be able to let you go, Fitzfleming. We’re colleagues, and I have no love for whoever’s using you to try to get to me. But if you don’t help me, I’ll ruin your life.”

A long, long silence. Long enough that he worried that he’d misjudged the situation. Then:

“About twenty years ago, my sister decided to leave her spouse due to how he was treating her. I came over to help her move. He tried to prevent her leaving, and had an accident. Officially. The blackmailer said that they had checked the grave and found lingering spell evidence on the corpse that matches what I know happened. They could have the authorities also check it for evidence of tampering.”

Oh, that was juicy. He whistled, low. Unpleasant, but fair, too. He had no family any more, but in a similar situation, he’d likely also have acted to do what was necessary. And murder accusations would certainly take away everything Fitzfleming had earned here as a tenured academic.

So what was he to do with it? It actually didn’t take much debate this time. “All right. I’m willing to believe you. And now that I know that, you especially don’t want to be reported to Ethics.”

“Yes, I thought you might blackmail me as well when you knew,” she said grimly. “But given that you already have evidence of a crime, things aren’t going to be going well for me either way.”

“Saying that it’s blackmail is awfully harsh,” Augustus protested. “I’m simply reminding you that there are stakes here, but once this is all over I’m happy to forget it. Ivory, I’m not actually your enemy. I’d like it if you were on my side as well. This blackmailer is hurting both of us.”

“… Yes,” she said. “They are.”

“So here’s my plan,” he said. His plan, too, was the same with Yujin. Take the people who were being blackmailed, and put them under his own wing. “I will let you go. You should act normal. Act as if we never talked about this. Write your explanation, as the note said. Say you couldn’t find the ambrotype, and I appear to have hidden it. This is the truth, after all. When the blackmailer contacts you again, tell me what they say and what they want. I intend to take this blackmailer down, and keep your secret safe. I’d like your help in this.”

“And you have, as you said, a witness I was here.”

“The witness will only act if I tell them to—or if something happens to me. I’m going to release you, Ivory. But if you attack me, I’ll fight back. And my witness and I will fight dirty.”

“Understood.”

Augustus didn’t trust her, of course. But he was confident that what he’d said was compelling, and that she had more reason to side with him than with the person who was blackmailing them both. Still, he was tense, ready to run, ready to fight. He brought his desk scissors with him to defend himself with if she did anything as he untied her.

She didn’t fight, though. When freed, Fitzfleming stumbled unsteadily to her feet—the last of the paralysis was still wearing off—and stared at him, calm, even, cool. “Well,” she said.

“Well,” he agreed. “Partners for now, then?”

“Yes,” she said. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Oh, I think we can both say that,” he said. “I’m going to keep an eye on you until the paralysis is fully off, and watch you leave. And then I’m going to go off and try to figure out next steps. Let’s bring the bastard down.”

That earned him a faint smile. “I don’t always love your work, Pennywright, but I have to admit you always have sound research.”

He smiled back, and waited. Soon enough, she turned and left, and he put everything in his office back as it should be, and then left as well. 

It had been a bit of a bluff, but he hadn’t been able to see any other paths forward. Starting a formal investigation into her behavior now would definitely tip off whoever was doing this, and he couldn’t afford that, not when he was only just beginning to get an advantage due to Yujin having decided to come to him. And besides, he didn’t have enough time today to deal with all that. He had plans to bring his husband home, and he had plans to meet Soren.

Augustus hurried home to go prepare the ritual, taking the time to knock once on Yujin’s door as he passed it, not otherwise stopping. It was probably a good time to bring Em in—between Yujin and Fitzfleming, a lot was going to happen with the blackmailer tomorrow, so he assumed his timeline for whatever was happening was going to be over the next couple of days. And this way, he could have Em interact directly with Soren.

Though, he had to admit, he didn’t know what exactly he was going to tell Soren. What should he do when Soren got here this evening? What should he say or not say? Should he let Soren in on anything he’d learned, and what, if so? Or should he just try to dupe Soren entirely, and use him for more divination…?

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He had to hide, Augustus decided. It would at least give him the chance to get some idea of what the intruder wanted.

Was there anything left out on his desk that the intruder might use against him? He remembered the mug he’d stolen from Soren and grabbed his own coffee cup quickly, then ducked under the desk with Yujin, pushing the chair out a little to shadow their hiding spot further. Yujin made eye contact with him, expression wild, but nodded without Augustus having to say anything to them. Clearly, they understood this part of the plan, at least.

It was impossible for his anxiety not to spike as he hid under the desk with Yujin, the two of them huddled together listening to the intruder trying what sounded like several different keys. It brought him back to his childhood, his mouth dry, knowing that something was out there hunting for him, still not knowing what had happened to the rest of his family, if they had lived or died. He reached out and squeezed Yujin’s shoulder reassuringly, and Yujin let out the faintest breath at that. 

He had to focus up; he was a full-grown adult man, just this side of middle age, not a child afraid of monsters in the dark. And he needed a way to get some kind of view of what was happening.

Augustus released Yujin’s shoulder and hurriedly dug in one of his pockets, finding his grooming kit. Carefully, he flipped it open—no need to accidentally send a razor flying on top of everything going on here—and angled it, trying to use the gap between the bottom of the desk and the floor to get at least a small view of the room with his shaving glass. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

And he kept careful control on the paralyzing spell. He could wish he had more failsafes, but hindsight was perfect, after all. If it were his home or his workroom, it would be much easier to defend, but people avoided putting too many defenses on their offices on purpose. People, students included, were meant to be able to come and go safely here. And he wasn’t exactly a combat mage, especially without having prepared materials in advance. He simply had the paralysis spell stored, and he’d have to make it count.

The door opened finally—or so it felt, though he knew it had been a matter of seconds still—and then shut behind the intruder. A dim light was activated, and began to move from the doorway to his desk. Through the angle of his shaving mirror, he could see very little; women’s boots disappearing into the bottom of a professional tweed dress, moving toward his desk, stopping in front of it. The intruder was standing on the rug that he had the spell trained on, at least, though now those boots blocked his view entirely, directly in front of him as they were.

He found himself fantasizing that a beast wore them, rather than a person, looming over him and his assistant, his charge, unseen. He forced his breathing to slow again, and made eye contact with Yujin under the desk again, seeking … something. Yujin bit their lip, but held themself very still. Their hair was still floating ominously around their head as if they were underwater. The ghost riding them was clearly still fired up and ready to take action.

“Fuck,” he finally heard from nearly directly over him. A human voice. Fitzfleming’s voice, actually, which wasn’t a surprise, though she didn’t generally swear like that. “Where is that ambrotype of his?”

The picture he kept on his desk was now safe at home, though he wondered for a moment what she wanted with it. Certainly, an ambrotype could be used for all sorts of purposes, as it captured a moment in time of a person. And it could be used for that for anyone in it, so it could also reveal certain things about his husband if the magic were strong enough and probed deeply enough. It had been risky to have had Em pose for it, perhaps, but generally speaking there was really no need to go examining a man’s disgustingly sweet couples picture. He had never, he thought, made enemies who would particularly try to target him. He was a teacher, for crying out loud.

“Did he take it home? Damn. If I don’t get it … no, maybe it’s still here “

Home. He thought longingly about the plans he’d made for after this. He wanted to go home, invite his husband over properly, and then receive Soren and talk to him directly with Em’s help. He didn’t want to have to waste time here interrogating someone. Plus, Yujin’s situation still needed dealing with.

The feet began to move, and he was abruptly out of time to think about such inconsequentialities. Fitzfleming was going to come around the desk to investigate the drawers and see if he’d just put it away; it’s what he’d do. Besides, she was about to step off the rug.

So he triggered the paralysis spell. It launched with a loud crackling sound and a visible flash of light, and she went down.

She hit the desk on the way down, too, which he couldn’t feel dreadfully sorry about.

Augustus surged to his feet, pulling Yujin up at the same time. He had about five minutes now; five minutes in which she was totally insensate, stunned and unable to process the world around her. No more than that. The spell worked in fives: zero to five minutes, she’d be completely out of it. Five to ten minutes, aware of the world around her but incapable of any movement beyond breathing. Ten to fifteen minutes, able to speak but not move her body more. Fifteen to twenty, movement but lacking good coordination. Beyond that, she’d be back to normal. 

He could use her lack of awareness afforded by those five minutes and just … leave. Or even search her and then leave, so long as he put her pockets back to rights after, and she’d be none the wiser. She wouldn’t even know he’d been here; he could let her think that she’d triggered an automatic defense. If he did this, he wouldn’t get to question her, but he’d know she was the culprit and she wouldn’t know that he knew.

Or, he could spend that time tying her up. He could wait, then interrogate her. It would mean he could ask questions, but he couldn’t guarantee answers, and it was possible she had some spells stored up as well somewhere on her. Those didn’t require movement to activate, so they were a real risk. He didn’t have any stored Mage Eye spells left to confirm what kind of magics she might have on hand, either. Ironically, he’d used the last one breaking into her office.

Which should he do? He stared down at her, still clutching Yujin’s hand. Whatever he decided to do, he was going to have to do it in front of Yujin, who was clutching the edge of the desk with their free hand and looking extremely alarmed by all this. So there had to be a moral limit to his actions here.

At least he had a witness if he wanted to take this to Ethics, Augustus thought. There was an edge of hysteria in the thought, but only just an edge.

[What should Augustus do?
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