“Those zombies are likely-cf-likely weaker now that—” Ian’s voice broke off in a fit of coughing. The heat of the fire subsided a bit now that the flames had receded, but if anything the natural fire consumed more fuel, and produced more smoke, than the supernaturally-enhanced fire had.

  The vault was fairly large, and larger now that the darkness had fallen away and revealed the rest of the room. But it was still an enclosed space, underground, with approximately zero ventilation. And it was filling with smoke.

  “We need air!” choked Montague.

  A bubble of white force blossomed around the three adventurers. They all breathed again as Jamie repelled the smoke, but the Boy breathed especially heavily. “Save your energy,” said Ian, “we’re just going to need to open the door and fight. We may need…”

  Jamie’s eyes fluttered. Montague caught him as he wobbled unsteadily. The shield wavered.

  “Oh, never mind.” Working with amateurs was frustrating. “Without the demonic magic pouring out of that pit, they’re likely weaker. We should just let them charge in here and then—”

  “Run out and close the door?” suggested the Captain.

  “W-we can’t just leave them in here!” protested Jamie.

  “Sure we can!”

  “We probably can’t, said Ian.” They both looked at him, surprised. “I mean, it’s not like they’re going to run past us. They’ll come in clawing at us. You can’t really hide from zombies. Usually. Depends on the type. They’ll probably be able to smell us, or they might be drawn towards life, to strike out at what they want but can never have again.”

  “We can lure them in, then, and then run past?”

  Ian shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not sure that’s easier than just fighting them, anyway.”

  “Didn’t go so well before.”

  “They’re weaker,” Ian snapped, “I told you that!”

  “Y’said, ‘likely.’”

  “Well… true. I’m not certain. But you’ll also have more room to fight if we let them come in here.”

  “Ah, so fighting’s my job, then?”

  “Of course it is. It’s your fault we’re even here. I wanted to leave as soon as we had the crystal.”

  “Hey now, Mr. Blackwing,” said Montague, glaring at Ian and pointing an accusatory finger, “that’s entirely baseless, specious, and furthermore, well… true enough.” She laughed, then as the magical shield faltered again she choked, dropping into a crouch and wheezing.

  “Time’s up!” said Ian, “Everyone stay low. Captain, get your sword ready. Jamie, pull the door open and then back up.” They moved to follow his instructions.

  Jamie pulled the door open and then hid himself behind it, squishing into as tiny of a space as he could. The smoke let up a bit as it started to pour out into the hallway, clean air rushing in to take its place. The two lumbering bodies lumbered, as they did best, into the room as well. They paid no attention to the smoke or flames. Both of them grunted and groaned, raising their arms as they saw Montague and Ian behind her. They bellowed and lurched forward. Now that she had room to swing, the Captain sliced into them with aplomb. She removed the head from Sister Miranda’s corpse, dodging back from a swing of Brother Graham’s fist.

  In this room, more brightly lit than the hallway (at least while it was on fire), Ian took note of his scarf. “I see what you meant about the knitting,” he said. Conjuring just a touch more fire, he flicked the sparks onto the scarf. Zombies weren’t especially vulnerable to fire, but if he could aim properly he could catch that highly flammable garment. It worked, and it burst into flames. The zombie grunted and turned in circles, distracted by being on fire but lacking even the most basic of instincts or knowledge to have any idea what to do about it.

  Montague thrust her weapon into its back, then swiped it to the right and out of the corpse’s side. It did not bleed, but its top half wobbled. Montague stepped to the side and kicked it hard. With a snap, it fell into two pieces. They were still writhing around and reaching for her, but it was pretty ineffective.

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  Ian stepped up and stomped on the body to put out some of the flames, then patted the front of its shirt. “Ah ha!” He hooked a finger under the shirt’s collar and drew out a medallion. “Cut off its head, wouldn’t you, dear Captain?”

  Shrugging, Montague complied. The writhing and scrabbling stopped, and Ian stood with the medallion. “Surprised Taggart didn’t keep that.”

  “When would he have taken it?” asked Jamie weakly, “He arrived when Brother Graham left for his pilgrimage. Though I don’t know when he came back…”

  Ian ignored him. “We should get out of here.” A small chunk fell from the ceiling. The cracks were spreading. “Quickly!” He put his hands on Jamie’s shoulders and hurried him out of the vault. “Lead the way, kid.”

  “Mr. Blackwing,” said Montague curiously as they hurried through the narrow corridors, “y’said your magic wouldn’t work well against those things. What were you to do if it hadn’t had that scarf?”

  “Run out and close the door.”

  “Y’said that wouldn’t work!”

  “I said it wouldn’t work if you did it. It would have worked fine for me, while you were fighting them.”

  Montague looked betrayed for a moment, then guffawed. “Ah, I s’pose I would’ve finished them meself by and by.”

  “Probably,” said Ian, waving her off.

  “But I don’t understand,” said Jamie, hurrying along, “how Brother Graham could be dead, or why his body is here. He’s supposed to be on a pilgrimage!”

  “Taggart killed him,” Ian answered simply.

  “What? No! How would you know that?”

  “We don’t, technically, know it for sure,” Montague conceded, “but he definitely did.”

  “And tried some kind of diabolism, possibly with Sister Miranda’s help. He might’ve been trying to fake holy power.”

  “And…” The Boy hesitated, “And you’re a diabolist?”

  “I do prefer ‘mystic.’ But yes, I’ve dabbled.”

  “You shouldn’t traffic with unholy powers, Ian!”

  “You traffic with holy powers, what’s the difference?”

  “Literally everything!”

  “The lad does have a bit of a point, there.”

  “They’re opposites, Ian!”

  “Opposite sides of the same coin.”

  “No!”

  “Stop shouting, Jamie. We need to get out of here quietly.”

  “Not getting’ our pay, are we?”

  “I-you’re leaving?”

  “Jamie, Taggart is going to try to kill us when he finds out we’re still alive. Besides, the Captain and I have places to be.”

  “Aye, we do.”

  “He’s not going to—”

  “Of course I am, acolyte.” They had rounded a corner, their last approach to the stairs, to find Brother Taggart flanked by two guards blocking their way. “Really now, Jamie, working with a diabolist and a pirate? I’m very disappointed. Come over here now, child.”

  “…you hired him, Brother Taggart.”

  “I had no idea what he was, child.”

  “Then how d’you know now?” Montague asked shrewdly, “Ye’ve no new information, as y’weren’t down here with us.”

  “Th-the church has diabolist who are priests!” Jamie blurted, “Studying demonology doesn’t necessarily mean you work with them. Exorcists have to study demons, too!”

  “How’s that relevant? Blackwing is no exorcist.”

  “He just exorcised the demonic pit in the vault.”

  “…did he now? Well, that’s good.” Taggart pointed at the three adventurers. “This is going nowhere, though. Just kill all of them.”

  The guards hesitated, looking between each other and the high priest uncertainly. “That’s a temple acolyte, sir.”

  “One who’s been corrupted by demons, clearly.” Taggart shook his head sadly. “And Jamie was so promising. He was our only acolyte who had developed actual holy magic, but look at him now. Look how gaunt he is. And I bet you’ve lost your power entirely, haven’t you, Jamie? That’s because you’ve betrayed the holy powers.”

  “I-I’ve been down here for days!”

  Taggart shook his head sadly, clicking his tongue. “Spending so much time in the company of demons and undead. It’s truly tragic.”

  “You—you killed Brother Graham! I know you did.”

  “Lad, I did say that we didn’t actually…” Montague faltered as Jamie glared at her, fire in his eyes. “Oh. Well then. Have at it.”

  “I see you’ve been filling this Boy’s head with—” Taggart’s attention was diverted by a horrible crashing sound, a rumble that shook the building. “What? I thought you said you dismissed the demons?”

  “Demonic corruption infested the walls and ceilings before we did. And there was damage to the ceiling during our fight. And there is a fire, we were just coming to tell you that when you accosted us."

  "What’s directly above the vault, if y’don’t mind tellin’ us, sir?”

  “That’s—my-my room is above that.”

  “Quarters,” asked Montague, “or office?”

  “Could be either,” said one of the guards, as Taggart turned red and stomped his feet.

  “Now listen you,” Taggart began to snarl, but he never finished.

  Completely tapped of magic for the second time, Jamie simply ran at the high priest and slugged him in the face. It was hardly the most impressive punch Ian had ever seen, but the old man toppled over all the same. Jamie glared at the guards. “You’re not stopping us from leaving.” It was an order more than a question.

  “Us?” asked Ian.

  “You can’t leave me here?” Jamie protested, appalled, “Not now!”

  “I really have no interest in raising children.”

  “I have to contact the Matriarch,” said Jamie, “I have to travel with you.”

  “We’ve hardly similar aims, lad.”

  “But the same direction, and… and y-you need me. Need my help. You need a healer.”

  “Y’know, the lad does make a strong argument.”

  “Who even are you?” said Taggart from the floor, holding his sleeve over his bleeding nose.

  Montague bowed to him dramatically. “Captain Susanna Montague, at your service, milord,” she said with equal drama, “And do remember it, sir, for I won’t.”

  “fine, whatever,” said Ian as he started for the stairs, “He can come.” Ian hesitated and looked back at the Captain. “I… thank you, both of you, for your help here. I… didn’t really expect you to come back, Captain.”

  “We do have an accord, Mr. Blackwing. And you’re too fun, besides.” Montague beckoned along before her. “Come along now, lad.”

  JAMIE JOINED THE PARTY!