“Yes, actually,” Corrin says with outstretched hands. “The easiest way to make it big in Hallowbane is by being the best person to work for within the city limits. My people know if they get screwed, they’ll be paid for their trouble, orI’llmake sure someone pays.”
“A low bar, I’d imagine,” Alastor says. “But I’ll do it. Anything that gets us back home faster.”
“Excellent.” Corrin smiles and gestures to one of his security guards, who ducks out of the room. “He’s just downstairs in the back; I’ll have them bring him up.”
“You already have him here?” Alastor says, surprised.
“Of course. I don’t want to waste your time.”
Minutes later, a man is dragged bound and gagged into the lounge. Corrin’s security throw him down onto one of the couches. His eyes widen with fear as he takes in the crime lord and the assembled company.
“Remove his gag,” Corrin says.
“M-Mr. Wadestaff,” he stammers as soon as his mouth is free. “Whatever you’ve been told. It’s not true. I swear it. I’m being set up.”
Corrin’s sly smiles are gone, the showman replaced by…I’m not sure what. The executioner, maybe. “If only I could trust that, Jack. But Hester had her cart stolen last week, and she has the broken wrist to show for it. And then there was that unpleasant incident with the Hucksley brothers before that. You know Stanley lost his eye? People weren’t supposed to know about their little midnight runs, butsomeoneknew exactly when to find them, and where.”
“You’re making a big mistake,” Jack babbles. “It’s not me. I think it’s Milo, sir. He’s been acting very strange lately.”
But Corrin just tuts and looks to Alastor. “Ask him if he’s been leaking information, to who, and for what price.”
Alastor repeats the question to Jack, the fizz of his sensic magic filling the air. Jack stops wriggling in his bindings, his eyes glazing over.
“I passed on details about operations to Aldous Chalke. He said he’d pay me twice what Mr. Wadestaff does.”
Corrin nods grimly, as if this was what he expected.
“Fucking Chalke,” he mutters. “Ask him if he’d have continued, even if people kept getting hurt,” he prompts Alastor.
But the blond fae hesitates. “The magic doesn’t really do well with hypothetical questions. People can lie even to themselves when it comes to things they haven’t done yet.”
“Just ask him,” Corrin pushes, a sharp edge to his voice.
Alastor sighs and asks the question.
“Probably,” says Jack simply. “I have to look after my own first.”
“And I have to look aftermyown, Jack,” Corrin says with a sigh. He waves a hand at Alastor. “Alright, thank you. That’s all.”
Alastor’s magic fades, and Jack blinks. He starts fidgeting again, turning to Corrin.
“It’s Milo, sir, I’m sure of it. He can’t be trusted.”
A heavy silence fills the room. It’s clear Jack has no idea what he’s just told us.
“You shouldn’t have lied about it, Jack. You shouldn’t have done it in the first place, but you definitely shouldn’t have lied about it,” Corrin says. “Gag him, please.”
Jack starts to protest, but the security guards wrestle the rag back into his mouth.
“I can do the honors sir,” one of the guards murmurs to Corrin.
“Thank you,” Corrin says, his face somber as he pulls a shiny silver knife from within his jacket. “But I always clean up my own mess.”
As Corrin steps toward Jack, shadows stream across the room, shrouding the two in darkness. There’s a wet noise and a few moments of rasping breath. Then the shadows disperse. Corrin looks like he hasn’t moved an inch, but Jack slumps limply on the couch, the silver knife driven into his chest up to the hilt.
“An ugly business,” Corrin says, straightening his cuffs. “But I thank you for your help in dealing with it.” The security men promptly scoop Jack’s body up and start to carry him out.
“Now,” Corrin says brightly. “I can arrange your passage for tomorrow if that suits?”
