Lorelai watched the wolf-woman work. The simmering clockwork ticking in silence. Marshal’s back bare, the red hue of scared flesh merging with titanium.

  And seeing it up close, a real bio-engineered demon, her tail curled. He really was an Inquisitor, wasn’t he? A supposed soulless machine, built for war.

  She had tweaked some of his circuits, a crude bite to organise that mess, but…

  Marshal inhaled, his body creaking with mortal bones.

  She hesitated, glaring directly at each hole drilled in his skin, the hollow metal burned into his body.

  Did he really lack a soul? An Inquisitor Monarch? A machine ruler of a kingdom. A Demon with scars.

  She had so many questions, ones he had never answered, ones she would find out. It wasn’t something he could avoid now.

  Then, not feeling gentle or maybe out of spite, Serena forced a modified intravenous line into the slots. A hiss of pain oozed from his body, muscles ready to move, a stutter of Consciousness.

  A spark of Voltite ignited in his veins, the green hue zapping all along his arms, a charge amping up to blast.

  “Serena?” Lore asked, ready to step back.

  The woman said nothing and punched the machine she had set up. The hum of the generator rumbled, purred, then, at last, Hemarite flowed.

  The wire connecting man and machine pushed the liquid out. The hot crimson entered Marshal’s bloodstream, and like that, he calmed. Lulled by molten glass, his skin warming up to heal over bone, the thump of his core slurping every drop it could.

  It was shocking how fast it was: cell connected to cell, protein chains regrew from crystalline material, and the diamond clicked back into place.

  She had looked in awe at such things, but now.

  They were right. Inquisitors were monsters—a bio-engineered predator in the demon food chain. Who said she could press this weapon for information? Did he even speak mortal? And did she even want him, too?

  She told herself it was curiosity. She told herself it was caution. But even now, staring at that monstrous body slowly knitting itself back together, she couldn’t look away.

  How did it work? How could she do that?

  And—

  Why did he bite her?

  Serena glanced at Lore, the flicker of blue still lingering… a tell-tale sign of a Neurweaver.

  The she-wolf had just read her mind.

  Lore straightened her face.

  “How long had you been—”

  “Since you started eyeing him like meat,” Serena said.

  Lore scrunched her tail, “I have not—”

  “So you bit him and he bit you?” Serena asked.

  Lore flushed, “No! It’s not like that.”

  “Well, according to the ceremony imposed by our ancestors,” Serena paused, scanning Lore and Marshal back to back. “Does that make you—”

  Before she could finish, Lore stood, “Listen to me, I know what it looks like.”

  Absently, Serena tapped the pipe to Marshal back, almost like she chose not to listen. Then, with a swing of her fluffy ears, she frowned.

  “I thought inquisitors were sterile.”

  Lore choked, coughing up a lung.

  “What!”

  Serena tilted her head, like she didn’t understand at first.

  “Sterile? As in smooth, clean, a snip snip.” She explained. “I was just wondering how a mated pair like you two could, you know… actually fuck.”

  Lore looked away, her face so hot she could feel the steam, “Like I said, it’s a misunderstanding.”

  Serena gave her a look of doubt, the action an irk, as Lore would know who and how she had become intimate with. And that pissed her off even more.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “We’re not mated.” Lore stated, “There were Exceptional circumstances to those bites.”

  Serena sighed, “Not sure why you’re trying to convince me.”

  Then the woman tossed a syringe at Lore. The glassy canister flopping between fingers before she finally caught it. And inspecting it, it was of similar design to Inquistor slots, but with a handheld needle that could be used anywhere on the body.

  “What’s this?” Lore asked. “I’m not an Inquisitor.”

  “Inject it close to the heart for the best effect,” Serena said.

  The woman tidied up her tray, packing up her tools in a single emergency bag. Then stood up.

  “Wait, you still didn’t answer my question,” Lore demanded. “Why would I inject a random liquid into myself?”

  Serena pushed the syringe at Lore, not taking no for an answer.

  “And what loony would put her face on a shotgun?” the she-wolf said.

  That stopped Lore, the visible bursting blue of Serena’s core flooding her veins.

  “I gather you can borrow my clothes,” Serena said, “meet me on the deck after you tossed those rags in the furnace.” She scrunched her nose, “we can talk when you don’t smell like shit.”

  And like that, the furry woman walked out. Lore left alone, stinky, and unable to form words. That bitch, did she really have to be so rude about it. She couldn’t be that bad.

  Lore sniffed herself, and the fume made her eyes water, the stank strong enough to strip paint. Regret welling up in her nostrils.

  “Fine. Suppose a change of clothes won’t kill me.”

  She glanced back at the half-dead man, still dripping red crystal through his sockets. His breathing had steadied.

  She should go. Change. Leave.

  He was asleep, right? Her tail wrapped around her leg. Did she have to get changed here?

  Instead, her feet didn’t move. A galloping beat rising out of her chest.

  She would make it quick, rags off, dress on. Simple. And forming a mental plan, she shuffled to the wardrobe. But her face faded pale as she saw what clothes Serena had in mind.

  More stuffy boots, trousers and belts.

  “Great, next thing I know I’ll cut my hair and be one of the boys.”

  She grimaced at the drab, grey, brown and charcoal—the next more dull than the last. And yes, she had no room to complain smelling like a fermented dumpster, but still. Was taste so hard to come by?

  Flicking through tomboy cosplay, she thought it would never end until a slight crinkle pressed her touch. Plastic. The kind that you use to keep fancier wear protected from oil, dirt, and water.

  The shape was long, the poly bag dusty, from forgotten use.

  And suddenly Lore’s tail wagged. She had found something interesting after all.

  Zipping it open, she was blasted with stale air from god no’s when. Her eyes inspected her loot with a glitter that shone back.

  Serena may have hinted at her so-called noble family, and this… this confirmed that.

  Blacker than obsidian. Smooth like breathable silk. Laced with silver edges and adorning a single slot for a jewel. Plucked off the fabric like a thief with a knife.

  Why would anyone stop at the gemstone? The dress itself was worth more.

  Her fingers wrapped it like a web, her eyes spinning the thousands of threads that could have woven this. She hadn't worn anything like this since... since she was someone else.

  Then Lore smiled, dark, greedy, as she etched her fingers deeper.

  “Well, let’s hope she won’t mind me borrowing it.”