“I'm not even kidding when I say that the st person I expected to see here was someone who works for the angels,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.

  “You know her?” Lenora asked.

  “From a very brief encounter we had with her bosses,” Lily said.

  “What are you doing here? Is this some kind of assignment the angels sent you on?” I asked, observing every single movement and gesture that Josie made. But there was nothing to catch in the sharp lines of her face or the rest of her unbothered body nguage.

  She just took a zy puff of her cigarette and blew some smoke. “We were waiting for you,” she said.

  “Me?” I frowned.

  “We?” Smokewell said.

  Josie nodded. “The angels knew that you were going to show up at one of these shrines,” she said.

  “There are more than one of these pces?” Lenora asked, agape.

  “Yep,” Josie said. “And the Malcolms sent me and their other foot soldiers to be on standby to meet you.”

  “No wait, why were the angels so sure I was going to come here?” I asked. “And why are they after me?”

  Josie gave a crooked smirk. “You are special after all,” she said. “You are the one who was chosen to bring a change, weren't you?”

  “Miss Elsa?” Lily looked at me in awe and admiration.

  “This idiot is going to bring a revolution?” Smokewell gawked.

  “Can we just go back to finding my brother, please?” Cynthia said desperately.

  “Who is that woman?” Josie pointed her cigarette at the Radcliff girl.

  Cynthia introduced herself.

  “You’re the one whose brother went missing, right?” Josie asked.

  Cynthia's face sobered. “Y-Yes…”

  “He came here.” Josie nodded. “And went over there.” She pointed her burning cigarette at a doorless entry at the end of the hallway.

  “He is in there?” Cynthia asked, her voice brimming with hope.

  “Not anymore.” Josie shook her head.

  All the optimism that had lit up Cynthia's face a moment ago shattered in an instant, repced with confusion. “What?”

  “Follow me and I'll expin to you your job,” Josie said and started walking, as if she was sure we were going to follow. She was right.

  “Let me be clear, we aren't taking any more jobs from the Malcolms,” I said as I quickly caught up to the muscur woman.

  “Yes!” Smokewell jumped onto my head and leaned forward eagerly. “We don't have time to waste on those crooked angels.”

  “Too bad, you don't have a choice,” Josie said indifferently.

  “Says who?” Lily asked.

  “If you want to get out of this shrine safely, you'll have to do what the Malcolms want you to do,” Josie said. “And luckily it also happens to involve saving that girl's brother.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I don't trust the angels one bit, I hope you know that.”

  “You don't need trust to do business,” Josie said.

  “Uh, I think trust is very important to do business with someone in the first pce,” Lenora said.

  “Wrong, you don’t need trust. You just need a good offer,” Josie said as we entered the room at the end of the hallway.

  This room was a lot bigger than the one downstairs. Because this one held a statue as big as a giraffe on one end. It depicted a male figure seated on a throne made of skulls, wielding a huge meat cleaver in one hand and a machete in the other. His torso was covered by a stone breastpte and his arms were protected by heavy gauntlets. And at his feet was a burial vault.

  Here lies Godfrey the Butcher, the head stone read with an eternal fme burning on either side of the vault. Even though the room was equal parts majestic and creepy, my attention was drawn to something else.

  On the wall to the right, three women were painting something. There were a few things that caught me off guard about those people and what they were doing. First, their painting was alive.

  No, really, I mean, they had painted a scenery of a gloomy ndscape where wind blew in shrill whistles that we could hear and crows were flying around and the branches of the bald trees shivered. Secondly, the women painting the piece had rge butterfly wings sprouting from their backs and they sang and flew around as they kept painting.

  Lily squinted. “Are those…”

  “Fairies,” Lenora said with a gasp.

  “Yep,” Josie said. “The Malcolms hired them because they are fast workers and never refuse if offered a job.”

  “What are they even doing?” Lily asked.

  “Painting the path to the dungeons,” Josie said.

  Dungeons? “Are these the same dungeons that the Malcolms sent us to bring the Eyes of Cornelius?” I asked.

  “Yep,” Josie said.

  I didn't know that a path could be painted to the dungeons. But I didn't ask about that. I focused on the more important question. “You said the Malcolms were offering us a job. What was the job?” I asked.

  “Simple, they want you to lift the curse off these shrines.” Josie shrugged.

  “There's a curse on this shrine?” Lily asked. “And there are multiple shrines?”

  “Yep,” Josie said.

  “You are making it sound too easy,” I said. “Did the Malcolms forget that Smokewell isn't a witch anymore? And she can't use her powers to lift curses anymore.”

  “Aren't you and that girl in gsses witches though?” Josie said with a casual puff of her cigarette.

  From what I had learned from old Elsa's memories was that Lily’s malice wasn't ideal for the job of cleansing curses. Her powers leaned into more physical skills. And I still didn't trust my capabilities all that much. “The Butcher King ascended to immortality after making this shrine,” I said. “If his death left behind a curse, I'm not sure I'll be able to cleanse it. Let alone cleanse the curses of multiple shrines.”

  “Wait.” Smokewell raised a paw. “Before we refuse, I would at least like to know what the Malcolms are offering in return.”

  Josie dug into her jacket and pulled out a scroll. “A contract that they've signed,” she said, holding it towards us.

  “Hah! We aren't falling for any of those again.” Lily folded her arms across her chest.

  “This one is different.” Josie opened the scroll and held it up for us to read from a distance. “If you do what the Malcolms have requested, it puts a binding on them to do whatever you ask them to do ter.”

  I kept my hands far away from the contract and gave it a read while Josie was holding it. Since it didn't have much legal jargon in it and was more of a decration signed by the Malcolms, it was easy to understand.

  I stepped back and pulled my companions into a huddle. “What do you all think about this offer?” I asked.

  “I think you should take it,” Smokewell said.

  I raised an eyebrow. “I wasn't expecting you to say that.”

  “It only makes sense for you to use this to strengthen your malice,” Smokewell said.

  “But we are talking about literal God level curses here,” I said. “And it must be a serious matter since the Malcolm's have come begging for help. Not to mention the deal they are offering is also a little too good.”

  “I already told you, you both will have to keep taking risks to advance up the echelons,” Smokewell said.

  “I'm in,” Lily said. “Because I trust Madam's judgement.”

  I frowned. “Before I make my own judgement, I'd like to know what I'm dealing with here. Not to mention that we still have to find Rownd.” I stepped back and looked at the Butcher King's statue. Then at the burial vault. I could jump straight to curse channeling but that wouldn't be reckless–that would be suicidal in this case. Right now what I needed was information, more than anything else.

  I carried out the liberation ritual on his grave. A vortex of bck mist formed in the air above us. And from the vortex, emerged the shape of a giant man resembling the statue of Godfrey the Butcher, complete with a machete and a meat cleaver in each hand.

  I looked up at the giant abyss. I remembered Yazara En. This was probably what the abyss of all immortal beings looked like.

  “How may I serve you, master?” the Butcher King asked.

  I gnced at Rownd's wrist watch. It was about half past midnight. “For the next twenty four hours, you'll do whatever I ask. That's your job until I liberate you. Understood?” I said.

  “Understood, master.”