What's All the Fuss About?

EMERY

Only Losers Live in Glass Jars

She’d been a Huntsman more years of her life than she’d been without, and even still, she fucking hated the smell of musty basements; full of mold and decaying flesh.

After twenty-one years of hunting the worst Blackspire had to offer, just once she wanted a writ that took her to the Green. At least they had flowers there. Fairy lanterns and ghost orchids had always been her favorite. But no. Not without a writ that granted her crossing. The Green was off limits otherwise.

Emery held her all black pistol loosely in her hands. The weakened stairs groaned, and she de-scended deeper into the basement. If Elijah was doing his job, he’d be entering the basement from the outside cellar doors, and they would meet in the middle. If he hadn’t been distracted by some-thing. Her brother was a skilled hunter, but at twenty-nine he still acted like a child sometimes. She couldn’t even be mad at him about it. Given how their own childhoods had been ripped away from them.

No need to think about that now.

When she came to the last step, she paused. The basement was shrouded in darkness. The writ could be hiding anywhere. With her eyes straight ahead, her left hand roamed the wall, looking for a light switch. There wasn’t one. Great. 

Her pulse quickened in her neck as she took the last step off the stairs and onto the tightly compacted dirt floor. She pulled a thin flashlight from the pouch strapped to her thigh. Holding it securely in her left hand with her gun in the right, she crossed her wrists so she could keep both arms raised. This way she could see and shoot whatever the fuck tried to surprise her.

This should have been a quick and easy writ. That’s why Emery had agreed to it when it was sent out. Homunculi were relatively non-threatening. No more so than an average human. But this one seemed to have separated from its maker and went on a rampage, killing ten and injuring anoth-er seven all within three days. It was difficult to track through the sprawling expanse of the city, but they were finally able to pin it down. It wasn’t making it out of here alive. The writ had been altered from bound to broken. That didn’t bother Emery. The pay was the same, regardless.

The first room was small and empty, so Emery pressed forward down a stone hallway so nar-row her shoulders brushed either side. She’d never been a fan of tight spaces, but then again, who was?

The incessant darkness was too quiet for a creature to be lurking within it, made more apparent by her silent footsteps. If the homunculus was in here, it was doing a very good job hiding itself. The hallway opened into a large room.

Emery swept her arms side to side slowly, the beam of light from her flashlight glinting back at her. She stepped closer and groaned. The room was filled with shelves upon shelves of glass jars. All different sizes and shapes. Rule one when dealing with homunculi: destroy their vessel. She could easily send all the jars smashing to the ground, but it would give the homunculus more time to slip away. Besides, it more than likely was safeguarding its vessel.

Before she could decide what her next move was going to be, something slammed into her from the side, sending her into the nearest shelves. It toppled over from the weight, and they crashed to the floor, jars shattering around her, bits of glass digging into the exposed skin of her arms and face. The flashlight was lost somewhere in the room, its errant beam of light shining back at her. Luckily, she’d managed to keep her gun.

Something grabbed her ankle and jerked her backward across the floor through the shards of glass and metal shelving. Her ribs erupted in pain, and they dug into every edge. Hands flipped her over and within the shaft of light, came face to face with the homunculus.

Time ticked away in endless seconds as she stared up at it. Smaller than she had imagined it, no bigger than a ten-year-old, with the muscles and frame of a much older man. The head was de-ceptively childlike and deformed. Half of the face was the silhouette of the boy, face frozen in ter-ror, while the other side was grotesque; stone features carved into hatred, razor-sharp teeth begging to sink into her flesh. 

“Emery!” Elijah shouted from the other side of the basement, voice thick with worry.

Time stabilized for Emery, and she angled her gun between the two of them where they lay locked together on the ground. She fired once, and the homunculus jerked back, screeching. The smell of dust and blood floated through the air, coating the inside of her nose. Emery went to fire again when a fleshy wing swept her arm to the side, bullet discharging and breaking several more jars. 

Emery knew she had to move, had to get out from under it. Forgetting she needed to kill it for the moment, she scrambled to her left, trying to distance herself from it. The creature pounced on her chest, one leg straddling either side of her body. The wings came up in a move she almost couldn’t see and then shot down, sharp bones protruding from the edges of the wings driving into her shoulders, pinning her to the floor. Emery screamed and kicked her legs to buck it off her.

Around her, the darkness was punctuated by glass breaking.

Elijah.

The homunculus roared in anger and ripped its wings out of her arms and stalked toward Eli-jah. Emery gasped around the pain. 

Move, Emery, get up, she commanded herself. 

She rolled onto her stomach and stiffly came to her knees. The homunculus half ran, half flew through the labyrinth of shelves, having no care about the ones he knocked over. Elijah was dodg-ing it, shooting at it when he could. She knew when he was successful; the creature shrieked in pain, but still, it kept after him.

And that’s when she saw it. She had been so focused on getting it off her that she’d missed it. As the homunculus dashed across the beam of her flashlight, something hanging from its waist glinted in the light. It was its vessel. So, it was keeping it close.

Rising to her feet, she moved to the nearest shelf and aimed the gun with her right hand. 

“Hey!” she yelled, pushing over the shelf.

The homunculus whirled, flicking its wings open, roaring so loud she felt as though her ear-drums were going to rupture. It cocked its head at her, smirk gracing its morbidly crafted face. Em-ery met it with a smirk of her own, lowered her arm a fraction, and fired.

Her writ’s smirk faltered, hubris replaced with confusion. The human side of its face giggled while the stone side wailed in agony, dropping to its knees on the hard earth, before slumping for-ward, unmoving.

Emery let out a shaky breath and slipped her gun into the holster in the small of her back. 

Elijah side stepped the homunculus and grabbed just under her shoulders. “Are you all right?” 

She winced. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I didn’t think the wings would have bones sticking out of them.”

He released her and stood over the homunculus, using his foot to turn it over so it lay on its back. “So, correct me if I’m wrong, but this doesn’t look right, yeah?” He ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. 

Emery squatted down on the other side of the body. Elijah was right; this wasn’t right. She wasn’t extremely versed in homunculi, but what she did know about their creation was that their appearance was tied to that of the creator, sharing similar attributes. With most cases. There were several instances where a homunculus differed from its creator, but those were typically the result of a botched creation. 

But this…

She reached out and touched the stone side of the face. It was smooth, cool to the touch, and blended seamlessly into the human, flesh side. 

“If I didn’t know any better, from this half of the face and wings alone I would have thought this to be a gargoyle. But I’ve never heard of a gargoyle being in this state.”

“Well, luckily, we don’t get paid to figure out what weird shit is going on in Blackspire. Come on, let's seal it and get it over to Ashen House. And then get you looked at.”

She sighed. “Yeah, the sooner we can get out of here, the better.”

Emery pulled a small scroll from her pouch and unrolled it, spreading it out over the homuncu-lus’ chest. The scroll was decorated with ancient black symbols covering the paper. Bright light shone out from the page of the scroll, blinding them. When it dimmed, the homunculus’ body was gone, having been transferred onto the page itself. It still baffled Emery how the magic worked, but she didn’t question it. She rolled it up and stuffed it back into her pouch.

Elijah stood and offered her his hand, which she graciously took. Her side ached, and she knew her ribs were either broken or, at the very least, bruised. All right, maybe she did need to go see someone. 

But first, she needed to turn in the writ.

—

The only silver lining taking writs from Ashen House was that it was close to home. Initially, the summons had been requested by the Crimson Court; a vampire was the first victim. But once the body count rose, it was transferred to the Ashen Chapter. The deadlier the writ, the more likely it would end up in the hands of Ashen; they governed demons, hellspawns, and cursed relics.

As with all the Nine Houses, Ashen House was an old, Victorian style home. It sat on a large hill with a curving stone staircase that followed the hill's incline. The hill was paved over with cob-bles, and a steel door was set into the side of the hill. Emery wasn’t curious enough to venture be-yond that door. More like she wasn’t brave enough to want to venture beyond the door.

Moonlight lit their path as they ascended the stairs. “Just keep quiet while I turn in the writ, okay? I won’t have them throwing you into a vault because you mouthed off.”

“You don’t always have to watch over me, Em. You know that, right?” His tone was defensive. 

Emery glanced over her shoulder at him. She was the older of the two; she was nothing but protective. It was her job to keep him safe. The one time she hadn’t been watching close enough, well, those weren’t memories she liked to think about often. She had to remember it enough every time she looked in the mirror. Which was one reason her apartment didn’t have any mirrors.

Elijah pulled the door open for Emery, and she stepped inside. 

All at once she was hit by a wall of heat. It was preferable to the chilled air outside, but this was almost suffocatingly hot. Like hell itself was trying to make its home here. 

The foyer was all dark gray tile and black wallpaper; thin, red line art of demons and hellish creatures climbing the walls. Emery did her best not to look at them. 

They walked up to the metal bars separating the foyer from the rest of the house. Ashen House took security seriously, and no one was allowed in without their express permission.

“State your business,” a man sitting in a lavish chair on the other side of the bars said. He wore black jeans and a black button down with a crop of unruly hair. He glanced up from his book, showcasing eyes that were a deep amber, face freckled with dark gray specs.

“Hemlock’s. Turing in a summons, broken, as requested,” Emery replied.

The man sighed, standing as gracefully as a marionette, and stuck his hand through the bars. “Licenses.”

Emery pulled her license from her pouch and handed it over. Elijah, on the other hand, ran his hands over his pockets, looking for his own. Emery rolled her eyes. And he said he didn’t need any protection. Can’t even keep track of his license.

“Oh, for fuck's sake, Elijah, come on!” she scolded.

“I got it. I do. Swear.” Finally, he displayed it and gave it over. Emery elbowed him in the ribs hard. Why did he always have to be this way?

“And you have the writ?” he asked, handing their licenses back. Emery passed it between the bars, and he took it, running his hand down the length of it. Seemingly satisfied, he unlocked the gate and allowed them entrance. “I’m sure you know the way?” 

“Naturally,” she murmured, taking back the scroll.

Emery practically fled the foyer and the man, his eyes burning into her back as they walked down a long hallway. Gooseflesh rippled along her skin. She really did hate it here.

The hallway had the same eerie black walls with red images depicting demons. The ceiling vaulted in a high arch; a metalwork chandelier hung above them; pieces expertly bent in the form of a human falling into hell. Evenly spaced along the wall were doors that alternated between red and black. Emery knew that there were different forms of hell behind those doors. Not the vaults; those were hidden deep under Ashen House. No, these doors held unspeakable evils in which people and other creatures willingly took part. If it was consensual and taking place within Ashen House, it wasn’t illegal.

Emery set her jaw tight and continued without stopping, Elijah following close behind. Cap-ping off the far end of the hallway was a large set of golden double doors. They pulled out their licenses once more and pressed them picture first against the intricate accents on the door. After several long seconds, the lock clicked, and the doors sung inward.

This room was exceptionally large, given it only held one antique looking wooden desk. Something about it always made Emery’s skin crawl. Like there was more in this room just out of eyesight. It wouldn’t surprise her. All of Blackspire was hidden inside a barrier magic, keeping it out of sight from those who lived in the Green. But why go to the trouble of hiding something in your own House? What could they need to hide this out in the open?

“Ah, Hemlock’s, it’s good to see you again.” Naera appeared behind the desk, blinking into reality. 

Emery shifted on her feet. She’d always felt inferior any time Naera was present, demon or no. She was, in its simplest terms, fucking beautiful. Naera was tall, statuesque, the perfect combination of long lines, narrow waist, curving thighs, and midnight blue eyes. Her hair was spun gold. Emery had found herself fantasizing about wrapping it around herself on more than one occasion. 

Things low in her stomach tightened and she braced against it. Naera was the embodiment of lust, and no one was immune to it. 

“We’re here to turn in the writ for the homunculus,” Emery said after a few seconds of trying. 

“Of course, it would be the two of you to settle.” Naera grinned. “Bring it here, please.”

The room was suddenly hot, hotter than it was in the foyer. Emery took a step forward, and the room lurched sideways, edges of her vision blurring.

“Em?”

“It would appear your sister is bleeding on my floor.”

Emery looked down, two pools of blood forming under her. Funny, she didn’t think she’d been that badly injured. She took another step and her knees faltered, sending her to the floor, fall-ing through an endless void of blackness.