Raven Blackwell hated her tie.

  If she wore it too tight, she choked herself. If she wore it too loose, her mother gave her a killing stare until she tightened it up again. Never mind her being able to breathe. That came second to a good sense of fashion.

  Raven was seated at the front of the auditorium, having been forced by her mother to take a break from her very important investigation to attend the welcoming ceremony for the new police commissioner.. Kareva had claim that his was more important, as unbelievable as that seemed. People’d notice if she were gone, she said. That would lead to questions, she said. And questions were the last thing they needed.

  Speak of the devil, there she was now. The sixty-three year old woman looked twice that age, limping by with a cane. Her entourage of servants guided Kareva to the reserved seat next to Raven. Her coconut perfume assaulted Raven’s nostrils. The girl forced back a gag. She’d take Terran’s odor — the unnatural corpse that he was — over this any day.

  Kareva sat down. “You’re late.”

  “The event doesn’t start for another five minutes.”

  “You should be here fifteen minutes beforehand,” Kareva said. “Your father always managed to keep to that schedule. And your brothers. Even Delov.”

  Raven looked around to make sure nobody else was listening. The bureaucrats and commissioners and all the other important people in the rows behind them were lost in their own conversations. None would be eavesdropping. Still, she lowered her voice, “Just for once, I’d like to have a conversation without you mentioning them.”

  “How can I not?” She asked. “Their legacy rests with you. It’s not like I’m having any more children. You're the last of our branch right now, Raven. That makes you very special.”

  “I know,” Raven said. “I know…”

  “You’ve got a legacy to uphold,” Kareva went on. “For some of us, that’s not important. But I know it is for you.” She was looking towards Karl’s seat with disgust. Though Raven did not see the point in being angry. Karl not coming was as inevitable as the moon rising. His visit to Blackwell manor was a fluke, an act done out of necessity and not actual care.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Blackwell.” A tall man approached from behind. Raven recognized him. His name was Gavriel. He was the CEO of a major fashion company, which he had inherited from his father. This was, of course, after he had inherited that oil company from his mother. Gavriel looked at Raven,“Would you mind if we talked?”

  “About what?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said. “I’ll be quick: we’re trying to reinvigorate our marketing, and I believe you would be the perfect fit. I’m thinking we call back to the monarchs of old. You in a throne, wearing some of our latest. Really show people that Blackwell power, you know?”

  “That is an interesting idea,” Raven said. “But I have much on my schedule today. Do you mind if I contact you about it later?” Of course, there was never going to be a later. Even her mother would agree that calling back to the monarch days was a dumb idea. But Raven’s cadence hinted at a mild interest. Just enough that Gavriel wasn’t left disappointed, but not so much that her forgetting to follow up wouldn’t be surprising.

  “I look forward to your call,” he said. “We can talk details then.”

  Gavriel strode off to talk with someone else, vanishing into the crowd. Kareva leaned towards Raven and whispered. “I think he could be a good candidate.”

  “Mother,” Raven said. “He’s thirty-four.”

  “Relax,” Kareva said. “I was only teasing.” She let the slightest of smiles slip, but Raven still could not tell whether the woman was serious or not. It was always hard to tell with Kareva.

  “Could I have everyone’s attention?” said a man on the front stage. From the front row, his voice was unnaturally deafening. The man didn’t even need the microphone. Everyone grew silent. “Thank you. Alright, I suppose we should get right into it. Our new commissioner’s got quite the speech for you. Quite the speech…heh. So, uhm, it is with great honor that I welcome our newest police commissioner…Remus Blackwell.”

  Applause erupted as Raven’s cousin stepped up to the podium. The twig of a man looked so out of place in his overly large orange suit, which clashed horribly with his bronze commissioner’s badge. Remus casually shoved the man by the podium aside before leaning into the microphone.

  “Thank you,” he said, voice distorting into an ear-splitting wail due to the feedback. Remus cringed, stiffening. “Sorry about that, everyone. Guess the microphone wasn’t ready for my tough, cool voice.” He paused, as if it were supposed to be a joke, but nobody laughed and Remus’ voice became small. “Okay, I suppose it's best we get started… at the beginning.”

  Remus began his speech, first with condolences and next his grand plan of how he was going to eradicate all crime forever. Raven felt like only she knew what he was getting at. Not because the plan was complex (It was, in fact, a gross oversimplification) but because he mumbled into the microphone. Remus had practiced the speech in front of Raven and others. She had been the only one to call it for the rubbish that it really was. Yet the yes-men won out, so here they were, listening to Remus’ fantasy about how by coming together and acting as one they could solve all crime in Diveky. As if that were a radically new view to have.

  It should have been her on that podium, not Remus. She was Gifted, after all. Her strength and speed far exceeded everyone. Only she knew what vinye truly was. Not in a clinical sense. No, she knew what it felt like to transfer your strength. To let it flow through you like water in a river. If Remus had to fight Terran, that monster would tear him limb from limb. His involvement was not needed. Raven could save this city. If this was her initiation ceremony, Terran would be sinking the iron within a week.

  Someone cried in the audience. Little Mae Blackwell, Remus’ daughter, bawled her eyes out two rows back. “Daddy has scary voice,” she cried into her mother’s arms. “Daddy has scary voice.” Remus stopped his speech, looking at the girl. He smiled, putting the whole city on hold because of his crying daughter. Mae cried for a good minute, and Remus just stood there, a dopey frown on his face, as he waited for her to stop.

  Raven looked at a clock. It had been ten minutes. And they were only on page one of twenty-six. So much time wasted, when she could have been on the streets, finding Terran once again. Sighing, Raven stood up to make her leave. Kareva tugged at her blazer. “Where are you going?”

  “To find Terran,” Raven whispered. “Someone has to.” That was another stupid thing: how Remus insisted the vast majority of the police force showed up to his ceremony. The streets were near barren now.

  “No one has heard of him in weeks,” Kareva said. “I’m starting to think you killed him.”

  “No,” Raven said. “He’s still out there, I can feel it.” She broke free of her mothers’ grip and made her way out of the auditorium. Kareva did not follow, but Raven knew she’d be in for it when she saw her again. Not that she cared. Raven just needed to get out. At her locker, Raven threw off her tie and blazer and replaced them with her leather jacket.

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  Her motorcycle was waiting out front. Raven sped off without looking back, away from the newly refurbished police station and towards the distinctive but decrepit Historical District. Only after speeding past two blocks did Raven stop to consider where she was heading. Was delving further into the Historical District a good idea? Sure, most Terran sightings had happened there but she had combed through those streets so many times. Even her brief stints into sewers had proven fruitless. The only thing of any note was the scholar Derik and his girlfriend. While they were nice, they were as far from this case as one could get.

  Perhaps closer to the Flaming Valley, then? Terran would be a fool to return there, but a decaying corpse didn’t strike her as being capable of rational decision making. The man inside that armor had died long ago, leaving behind a feral creature chasing the husk of a dream. As if killing random passersbys in the dead of night could restore the old Empire.

  Raven turned the corner, and was met by traffic. No accident, it seemed. Just a longer than usual red light in the busy afternoon rush hour. Cars honked at each other. People shouted out of their windows. It was a mess. Raven came to a stop. More waiting. Just what she needed. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long.

  “Hey, are you-”

  A little girl leaned out of the car to Raven’s left, stars in her eyes. Her parents were arguing up front, oblivious of Raven’s presence. The girl said, “Your Raven right? Raven Blackwell?”

  “Sure am,” Raven said. The response was a bit too blunt, but her caidance was chipper. Chipper was always good when dealing with kids. “I’m guessin you’ve heard of me.”

  “You know it,” the kid said. “Like that one time… you took on all of Tvarlato’s men at once. My brother told me that was just an exaggeration though. Said papers exaggerate all the time.”

  “Really?” Raven said. “And where is this brother? Lemme tell him what's what.”

  “You can’t…”

  “Why not?” Raven asked. “Is he busy?”

  “Guy mugged him two years back,” the girl said. She sighed. “He’s dead now.” At that, the girl looked off to the opposite window. She trembled. The parents continued to argue up front. They were shouting right in each other’s face. The father said something about money.

  Raven bit her lip. Heat swelled in her chest. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a ten thousand kreva note and a used napkin. She wrote her office number on the napkin, then handed it over. “Here you go. Money’s for tonight. The number’s for if you want to talk about something.”

  “Like what?”

  “I dunno,” Raven shrugged. “Stuff.” That was hardly an answer, but it was the best she could come up with on the spot. The girl took her napkin and money, then looked away once again. Raven tried saying some stuff to lift her spirits, even attempted a joke, but the girl remained stoic. Traffic cleared and the car sped ahead.

  Raven stayed put. A honking car forced her to continue. She tried looking for the little girl’s car. But it was too late. It was lost to the sea of traffic. She continued on, hating herself. Why’d Raven have to ask about her brother? That was stupid of her. Very stupid! The girl would be depressed this day and the next. Throwing money at the problem wouldn’t fix it. That should not have been a problem. Raven was a Blackwell. People respected her. They liked her. Comforting that little girl should have been a sitch…

  Police chatter started on her motorcycle’s radio. The name “Terran” came up. Raven throteled the microphone and held it close, still steering the motorcycle with one hand. “This is Raven Blackwell,” she said. “Did you mention Dark Lord Terran?”

  “Affirmative,” a voice said. Raven did not recognize the man, but he sounded youthful. Probably just a new recruit. “Witnesses spotted him by the textiles factory near the northern Hero Statue.”

  “Say no more,” Raven said. “I’m heading there now.” She sped ahead, weaving between the rows of cars despite the surge of angry protests. It wasn’t like anyone was going to arrest her. Not with everyone watching Remus.

  She made a sharp left without losing speed. More traffic, so she swerved over the sidewalk. People leapt out of the way, parting as Raven sped by. She did not slow down. She could not slow down. Terran was a flighty bastard. She must finish the job this time.

  The traffic cleared as Raven neared the Flaming Valley. She soon passed the statue of her ancestor. The textiles loomed in the distance. A sole figure stood on the roof of the northern building: Terran, alone and vulnerable. He made no effort to keep himself hidden. Raven smirked. Even the universe itself wanted her to catch him.

  What was he doing there anyhow? Eh, it didn’t matter. The zombie was probably looking for another victim to slay. Though it was early for him to be out. Perhaps this was a trap then. A trap for her. Raven decided to spring it anyway. She wouldn’t capture Terran from the ground.

  There was a ladder on the southern end of the textile factory which led to the roof. There’d be some distance between her and Terran, but Raven would be able to close it fast. The fight from there would be quick. They’d exchange a few blows, then Raven would push him to the ground. She’d force him to land on his back. Whatever unnatural forces kept Terran alive would not help him survive a hundred foot fall unscathed. A shot to the head would do the trick then.

  Once at the ladder, Raven Blackwell transferred vinye into her arms. Not much, just enough to help her hoist herself up that much faster. The rungs passed in a blur. Wind rushed through her hair. The ladder trembled at her great speed. Yet she pushed on.

  Raven only paused when at the top. She patted her belt — only to realize she did not have her gun. Kareva had forbidden her from having it at the ceremony. She’d been in such a rush leaving that she hadn’t even stopped to grab it. Curses, Raven thought. Guess I’ll have to take him through strength alone.

  That shouldn’t be too big a deal. Raven was Gifted after all. Terran would not be using a gun. This would be an outright brawl. One good sneak attack would send the zombie hurtling to his death. Yes, stealth would be the key.

  Raven jumped up, but found that Terran was now facing her. He was twenty feet away now, near the center of the platform. The breeze carried his putrid stench towards Raven, and it took much effort to keep from vomiting. He smelled like a bad egg left in the sun. No, worse than that. It was as if the egg itself had been dropped into a corpse. “Greetings Terran,” she said. “I can see you still haven’t discovered soap.”

  “I know what soap is,” Terran said. “I’m not that ancient.”

  “It’s called a joke,” Raven said. “Good to know that you’re from a time before humor.” She stood tall, fist clenched. She’d been waiting for a reason to use that one. But more jokes would have to wait. There was something odd about this current Terran. “You have new armor. Who did that for you? The books never mentioned you as a metal worker, so I doubt you did that yourself.”

  “Foolish girl,” Terran said. “You can’t learn everything from books.”

  “Is that a holster?” Raven asked, pointing to the thing fused to Terran’s side. Indeed, it housed a gun. This beast was armed. Raven wasn’t. But that was no reason to retreat. She could goad him into a bad attack, make him sloppy, knock him off. “Looks professional. Who made it for ya? I'm dying to know.”

  “You’ll join him soon enough,” Terran said.

  He charged. Raven did the same. She aimed to hit at his right, but Terran dove beneath her punch. Both skidded to a stop. They had traded places, but no blows had been dealt. “Look to the horizon,” Terran said, gesturing towards a distant bridge. “It should happen any moment now.”

  Raven charged again, but Terran dodged as fast as before. They both stood on the edge, each one good blow away from a fall to death. “I am going to finish this,” Raven said. “You aren’t getting away this time.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Terran said. He clenched his ancient fist. “Even if you did kill me, it's far too late. It’s inevitable now…”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  BANG!

  The sky turned orange. The ground shook, and Raven lost her balance. She brought her arms out wide to straighten herself, before recovering. Four fireballs had erupted in the distance, destroying all the bridges into the city. Great fires now covered the horizon. Terran…that monster…he had…

  “H-how?” Raven squeaked, voice now small.

  “And the next,” Terran said, looking behind him. Another explosion rocked the city. This fireball was the height of the factory. Metal groaned as the textile factory swayed in the wind. That couldn’t have been more than a few blocks away. But the only thing of note so close was…

  The Dark Lord’s laughter filled the air. The realization hit Raven like two tons of bricks. The detective rushed for the ladder, sliding down. The jeering Terran was forgotten. Raven’s panicked mind had room for but one thought: Mother.