William Stocks, known to practically everyone as William and to one annoying coworker in particular as Will, had been very much looking forward to sleep at the end of a long day. He’d been working steadily on the Trebira file when Davis poked his head into his office and asked for his help tracking down the vehicle that had transported the Alpha project from Eingopher’s lab. The timing from when William encountered it at the lab to when it showed up at the edge of central district was far too fast for it to have gotten there on its own, and it was exceedingly unlikely an Alpha in that state could have simply called a taxi. It should have been a simple exercise, but apparently departmental squabbles between Records, Audits, Security, and the municipal Transportation Bureau had made a mountain out of it. Between Davis working through Security and William and Four working through Records, they’d managed to identify it as autonomous company car 47b-026, which had since mysteriously vanished from the vehicle fleet, and by that time the artificial moon was lit and it was well past William’s designated clock-out time.

  Which was to say, when he got a text from Inspector Auditor Chloe Sharp mere steps away from his front door reading ‘Assistance required,’ he at first tried to ignore it. It was quickly followed by ‘Look up’, then ‘Down the street,’ then ‘Blind idiot.’ He wondered if all auditors were this charming – he didn’t interact with them all that regularly but surely he’d remember if they were all this abrasive? As he approached Sharp and the two Samaritans helping her limp along the road, he swallowed any observations about how nice it must have been to be out for a jog while he was still in the office poring over vehicle licenses. One knee was scraped bloody, and there was a red streak along the side of her hip as well. From the red stain on the shirt of the girl helping her stand, her hand must be in rough shape, too. “Auditor Sharp, you’re looking rather worse for wear.”

  Any apprehensions about being called out just as he was nearly home vanished after two words from the Auditor: hunting sprite. That was a very genuine emergency, since even if Sharp had somehow escaped, hunting sprites didn’t stop at one victim. When Sharp made the very reasonable call to head to Office 38’s containment office, William felt a very specific sense of relief. There was still a hunting sprite loose, of course, but unlike Davis, Sharp wasn’t leaving life and death decisions to William while she ran off with an emergency response crew, and unlike some of the other on-call managers of Office 87, she wasn’t so indecisive as to hem and haw and review procedure before ultimately asking a nearby android what they thought and going off whatever generic recommendations it came up with. After calling an autonomous taxi, William reflected that it might be inconsiderate to leave Sharp in her leisure wear if they were going to an office. He figured the handkerchief set he’d bought but had never found a practical use for would also make for passable makeshift bandages. When she warned him there would be blood on the pants and jacket he brought down from his house (one of 4 identical sets), he was relieved he’d decided to skip the button up shirt and tie.

  Then, of course, came the other shock – one of the Samaritans from the park just so happened to be the Priestess of the Eclipse. Her dignified portrait was a recurring character in the annual staff safety training review, and while most of the training dealt with broad categories – rogue Alpha projects, hunting sprites, fairies, and so on, she was a category of one. Or rather, one of the few potential dangers they covered that wasn’t a category at all, but a single individual. Sitting in the same taxi as her was surreal. The advice from the safety briefings was also confounding - avoid contact as much as politely possible. Politely? What counted as ‘polite’ to an entity like the eclipse? And why was the other Samaritan in the car with them as well? Then said Samaritan opened her mouth, and suddenly William remembered where he’d seen her before – she was the unemployed girl (funny how that word stuck in his mind!) from the Eingopher Alpha case. “Is this normal for you? Like, do people regularly bow and say ‘priestess help us’?”

  The priestess sighed, a very image of pristine neatness, “I wish they wouldn’t, it’s honestly very embarrassing. And no, it’s not regular at all.”

  Sharp seemed to take that as a subtle admonishment, “I apologize, but I’m certain the only reason the hunting sprite left before I was dead was because you were there. And I suspect it will return as soon as you’ve left – they don’t like giving up on their prey.”

  “So does that mean you’ll have to keep Alice at your side from now on to keep the hunter sprite away? That sounds like a lame movie plot.” William wondered if the unemployed girl (what was her name again?) was interested in that lame movie – she certainly seemed more curious than opposed to the scenario.

  At this point Sharp was leaning back in her chair, sinking into the soft padding. She didn’t seem interested in answering the priestess’s companion, so William helpfully explained: “We’ve had counter-measures for hunting sprites for thousands of years - at least. A few common materials and some basic symbology will keep them away, and it doesn’t take much more than that to bind them for good. All we need from the priestess is a short taxi ride and maybe a few minutes more in the office while we ready the counter-measures. Then she’ll be free to go, and theoretically, the hunting sprite should return to its chosen prey, and we can safely seal it away when it does.”

  William held himself back from asking the girl why she was coming along for the ride (he was certain she’d mentioned her name the last time they’d met!). Her voice, her mannerisms, her attire – practically everything about her made it difficult to take her seriously, but she’d helped Sharp when she was injured, and was sticking protectively close to the priestess. Perhaps she was a devotee? Type white consciousnesses gathering a cult of followers was hardly unheard of, and there was a convenient shrine deep within the park grounds, although to William’s knowledge it had been abandoned for decades at this point. It was rude to assume, and William supposed he could just ask. She may well have just been a random passerby out for an evening walk after work. After all, Sharp had also been in casual wear and at this time of the evening it was normal enough – but something about her still seemed to repel the idea of gainful employment.

  The ride was quite short, and before William could bring himself to ask the girl about what kind of work she did for a living, the taxi pulled up to Office 38. In the center of the five-storey entrance lobby was a massive, ornate water fountain, and the lobby’s perimeter was decorated with colossal marble statues and polished silver accents along the walls and ceiling. It was a dramatic contrast to the similar-sized lobby in Office 87, which had a small grove of living bamboo at its center, bronze perimeter statues, and gold accents for the walls and ceiling. Past the lobbies, though, the buildings were nearly identical. The same office chairs, the same laminated pseudo-wood desks, the same door handles. Even the android models all looked familiar. For a moment he thought he saw Four walking with purpose with a bundle of papers in her hand, but Four’s eyes were softer and her face was more expressive – the android just shared the same model. Although she was wearing the same non-descript black dress as Four. In fact, now that he was paying attention, most androids wore practically identical clothing - perhaps Four could use some variety in her wardrobe. Suddenly self-conscious that he and Sharp were also currently wearing identical double-breasted jackets, William reflected that perhaps he should consider adding some variety to his own wardrobe as well.

  The androids directed them to the fourth floor, where they finally encountered another human. James Locke from Office 38’s Containment division was a gloomy conceptual toxins expert, and not surprising given the time of night, he wasn’t in an overly conversation mood.

  “Yes?”

  “Hunting sprite. Targeting me.” Sharp didn’t seem to be feeling particularly conversational either.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “You’re certain?”

  “I ID’d it. Three rooted rotations. Three orbs.”

  “Hmm.”

  After receiving a few short answers to his few short questions, he left the main office area, disappearing into a side room labeled ‘rm404 - Ritual Room’. After a brief wait, the door re-opened. He ushered Sharp into the ritual room, and ushered everyone else out. When confirmation came that everything was set to seal away the hunting sprite when it returned, the priestess and her unemployed disciple were given a thumbs up that they were good to leave, and William figured he might as well return home as well. It was well past midnight, and tomorrow was, of course, another workday. He sent a message to Four to make sure coffee was ready for him in the morning. It had been a shot of excitement, but he expected this was about the end of it.

  He was waiting for the elevator when the door to the ritual room slammed open – Sharp was standing there, a pure white scarf embroidered with archaic symbols layered over his loaned jacket. She had gotten to the door under her own power, which was hopefully a good sign her knee wasn’t broken, at least. “Where’s the girl? Not the priestess, her friend.”

  Her urgent tone immediately had William on edge, “They left shortly after I confirmed our preparations were complete.” They could hardly trap the hunting sprite if it was avoiding the area because the priestess was still there.

  Sharp was pale white, and leaning heavily on the door. Her next words were forced out through gritted teeth. “The sprite isn’t here. The girl had my blood on her.”

  “Blast.” William breathed, remembering the red smear on her pink sweater. That might have been enough for the sprite to lock onto.

  “Fuck.” Sharp agreed.

  William had already brought up Four on his phone. “Who’s the on-call manager tonight? Never mind, call Davis. It’s an emergency situation and we need surveillance drones over here as soon as possible. Everywhere from my current location to my house, ping anything moving.” She lived somewhere a few blocks down from his house, that was one thing William did remember.

  “Will, what’s up?” Davis came through in seconds, although he was missing a shirt and so was the blue-skinned android pressed against his arm that hadn’t quite escaped the edge of the screen.

  William spared a moment to second-guess calling Davis instead of whoever the active on-call was, then decided he had no more moments to spare. Davis was reliable, but more importantly he was decisive, and right now William didn’t feel like rolling the dice with a random Security manager. A thump behind him came as Sharp slid down the door, and was now sitting against it. She was somehow even paler than before. Perhaps her knee injury wasn’t so minor after all. After briefing Davis on the situation in as few words as possible, drones were up and flying within minutes. Once the drones had established their patrol pattern, it took mere seconds to find what they were looking for – a fast-moving heat signal along the park-side road leading to William’s apartment. Davis, in audio-only now that he was en-route to the scene, whistled appreciatively. “She’s in a call with the priestess, and she’s making a beeline for her apartment. Sounds like the priestess is on the street and moving to meet her. That’s impressively quick thinking.”

  “Keep the priestess away.” Sharps voice from the door was ragged. “We’ll lose the sprite again.”

  William was quietly grateful Davis was the one to patch into the girl’s call, since he summed up their position in far fewer words than anything William could have come up with, “Turn at your next left. Go the priestess and you’re safe, follow my directions and everyone’s safe.”

  There was nothing but ragged breathing from the girl’s phone, but the red heat dot William could see on his phone monitor immediately turned left. William quietly found his respect for the unemployed girl growing as loud, frantic sounds banged out behind him as the containment specialist gathered the necessary equipment – which ended up being some small stones with symbols carved on them, and an unpainted clay urn. Sharp was again standing and trying to walk to the elevator – did she not see the dozens of androids? William commanded one to help her to the elevator, and was quietly grateful when instead of merely lending Sharp a shoulder to lean on, it gently picked her up and carried her. Sharp was scowling, but William figured she could live with the momentary indignity of being carried like a princess. Long seconds later, the elevator let them out into the lobby, and they were off to the street. “Davis, how close are we?”

  “Don’t bother moving, just set up there.”

  As if on cue, the girl appeared around the corner, running frantically as if her life depended on it – which to be fair it did. William waved and pointed at the urn and elaborate pattern of stones the specialist had just finished laying out. As she ran past them, it was as if she’d just crossed the finish line of a marathon, sputtering to a stop, then dropping to her knees, breathing heavily. William raised an eyebrow at the specialist, who nodded. “I’ll run some tests to be sure, but as long as that urn doesn’t break, that should be the end of our troubles from that particular sprite. I’d still recommend burning anything that’s got Miss Sharp’s blood on it. And keep Containment pinned in your contacts - for at least the next week or two.”

  He hummed as he started cleaning up the rocks, placing them gently into the urn one by one. Sharp had waved off her helper android, and was lying back on the broad stairs. As the specialist and an android assistant carried the now rock-filled urn back up the steps to the office, he called to Sharp and said she could keep the scarf, as a souvenir if nothing else – it was quicker and easier to have the embroidery machines sew a new one than bother trying to reuse Sharp’s. William wondered if he’d get his suit back. Davis’s armoured car screeched around the corner and he came to a stop a short distance from William and the girl, who was still on her knees and still breathing heavily. “Hey, Olivia, right? (So that was her name!) Sorry we keep meeting like this. That was some fantastic work under pressure - I know seasoned Security men who wouldn’t react as smartly as you did.” Davis sounded genuinely impressed.

  “Please be quiet, I’m doing my best not to throw up here.” The girl’s cartoonish voice and acidic personality were at least consistent with William’s memories. Hopefully he could keep ‘Olivia’ fixed there as well.

  “Sorry for the late call,” William greeted Davis.

  Davis didn’t even stop walking – he merely clasped William’s shoulder as he passed. “It was the right call.”

  The words sounded like honest praise, and they lit a warmth in William’s chest. Davis passed him and kept walking until he was standing straight over Sharp, greeting her in a familiar but somehow more stilted manner than usual – did he know her? Mere seconds later, he picked her up, and much the same as the android had, although less gracefully, started carrying her down the steps towards his car. There was a hospital nearby, so William could at least count on Davis getting Sharp there to get looked at and cleaned up. As the car disappeared around one corner, the priestess appeared from another. She was walking steadily, not running, and her expression was almost terrifyingly cold. A bitter, distant cold that blossomed into warm relief as she saw the girl she had parted with not even a half-hour before was still very much alive. William suddenly realized the weight of what had just happened tonight – Sharp had said Olivia was a friend of the priestess. Not a devotee, not a supplicant, a friend. If that was the case, and Olivia had died… That would have been a personal catastrophe for the priestess, which would have very possibly turned into a general catastrophe for everyone. William suddenly felt a bit unsteady, and was doubly grateful Olivia had been smart enough to run in the right direction.

  Olivia and the priestess were talking, both smiling despite the obvious weariness in both their faces, and with Davis, Sharp, and the Containment specialist all out of sight, William again felt the creeping need of sleep beginning to make itself felt. It didn’t feel right to just walk off, though, so first, to Olivia, he said: “Thank you for everything tonight - you very likely saved multiple lives. This is Security’s number, and this is Davis’s personal number, which may be more reliable. I’d suggest keeping calls to audio-only, his life outside of work can be a bit… colourful. Have a good evening, and I hope to never see you again. Unless we end up in the Square Mart at the same time.”

  William had thought ‘I hope never to see you again’ would have been a cool parting line, until he reminded himself they did both live in the same neighborhood.