“You look good.”

  Amalia grinned at Clytemnestra. Her feet carried a bit of bounce as she posed like a fashion model on London’s high end runways. The brown lace on her sleeves and neck was perfect, as were the small dark green puff sleeves. The butterfly-esque veil completed the ensemble, along with the heavy dark green dress.

  Of course, as she knew, behind that transparent veil were pale yellow eyes. The same as hers.

  “I look just like you, don’t I?” Clytemnestra chuckled.

  The real Amalia was sitting on a grey chair, carefully examining both of them. “My hair is much darker than what you have, Clytemnestra.”

  She shifted the hair colour, watching as it darkened to a rich oak brown.

  “The dress is wider?” Amalia spread her hands apart. “I don’t know much about fashion, but the lace pattern is wrong. You have it as a series of interlocking circles, but it’s more like interlocking rhombuses. Like your trousers.”

  Clytemnestra changed it on instinct. “Anything else?”

  “The shoes are black, not dark grey. Otherwise, no significant flaws.”

  “And me?” ‘Amalia’ smirked.

  “You’re a perfect copy of me.” Which is unnerving, but there are no bounds to futuristic technology. “Except the eyes. Can neither of you change your eye colour?”

  “Nope.” Helen changed her shape from ‘Amalia’ to a girl with yellow twintails in a white blouse and skirt combo. “We can’t change our eye colour. Why do you think we have these polarized sunglasses?”

  I had assumed you bought them so you don’t get blinded by Chiara.

  “Some sunglasses can hide yellow eyes.” Clytemnestra was envious of Helen’s ability to seamlessly blend between people’s thoughts and a verbal conversation. “Especially since Castor can change her eye colour by transforming, I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  That was the driving principle of Amalia Wald: “Why?”

  Everyone had one, even Clytemnestra. For Amalia, the acquisition of knowledge was hers. She saw it every time Helen explained something about their powers. How her eyes lit up and the visible shift in her posture, straightening up more than she normally would.

  When they first met, Clytemnestra was trying to pry information from her. Being in a small bus for the better part of three weeks had gotten them acquainted. Clytemnestra learned that Amalia liked to stay healthy. The traditional Swiss five-meal course was good enough for her and, with planned stops, Amalia had slowly regained her vitality through regular walks in nature. Sometimes, Amalia vented her frustrations about the time they had raided a warehouse for food, but they were on a tight budget. Amalia even said that! When she wasn’t theorizing about the limits of her amulet, she was constantly pestering Helen about her past.

  “You mentioned that the amulets act as energy conduits, but where is the source of the energy?”

  “Tell me more about the connection between the Gates and the Houses. Is it a symbiotic relationship, a parasitic relationship, or a different type?”

  Today started because Amalia wanted to probe the limits of shapeshifting. Her rationale for choosing herself as the model was that she could easily point out any flaws. As Amalia eagerly jotted down notes, Helen exhaled softly.

  For once I’m better than you.

  Clytemnestra scoffed. You had centuries of experience with shapeshifting. I’ve had three weeks.

  A month.

  Practically three weeks!

  Amalia was amenable, pleasant, and more than happy to do anything Clytemnestra required of her. Now if only she could say the same of Chiara—

  The door to the cargo hold burst open and a bright shining light filled the room. “Good morning Clytemnestra, Helen, and Amalia!”

  “Chiara, please give them a few minutes of notice before you walk into a room next time,” added Dana

  Can she turn herself off for a few minutes? The King is one of those that I didn’t want to meet again.

  Clytemnestra instinctively shielded her eyes. “Good morning to you too.”

  Amalia already flipped on her sunglasses. “Good morning Chiara.”

  “Are the glasses working for you, Amalia?” Dana peeked from behind the narrow door frame.

  “Yes.” Amalia tilted her head, which meant she was trying to make eye contact with Dana.

  Chiara dimmed herself, flashing her radiant smile to everyone in the room. “I talked to a flock of seagulls. The fabled ports of Ireland are near now! We’ll be landing shortly, in a few minutes time! The sights we will witness, the journey we will undertake, all will be revealed under my light!”

  She was…certainly in high spirits. Before they had departed, Helen had talked about modalities. Gemini and Virgo were mutable signs, so they were more pliable and more readily agreeable. Fixed signs, like Leo, were stubborn and dead set on their ideals and goals.

  Considering how stubborn Chiara was in bringing her lion to Ireland despite it flying in the face of aviation and general travel safety, Clytemnestra was inclined to agree.

  Chiara walked up to her and squeezed her tightly in a hug. Clytemnestra had long figured out that it was how she showed affection to everyone. The small peck on the cheek was common among Italians too. With a bounce in her step, the budding actress skipped out of the creaking cargo hold and onto the ladder, eager to seize the day.

  And Dana…

  Dana didn’t trust her or Helen. Based on what Clytemnestra gleaned from her mind, it had something to do with attempting to beat her up, running over several people, and Helen’s half-botched surgery on her girlfriend. Chiara held no ill will to either of them and she’s alive, so Dana should be comfortable with them.

  Clytemnestra waved at Dana before slipping through the cargo door—and coming face to face with the snarling visage of Augustus.

  “Hi Augustus.” She couldn’t read the minds of animals, so she set up a subsonic sound that only lions could hear. He instinctively moved to the source of the sound, leaving her free to escape to the deck.

  The fishing boat they were on swayed gently in the wind. After having learned that Chiara would not budge on letting her lion accompany her to Ireland, they had to change their plans. Rome was a bustling port, but it took a while to find a boat to service a long trip to Galway. Amalia had complained that Helen shouldn’t have paid off the captain for his boat. Her explanation was that as a fishing captain, his livelihood depended on owning and maintaining his boat in order to fish. Clytemnestra had read his mind though, and it was clear as day that he wanted out of the fishing business. That, and the way his eyes shined when she offered him a thousand Euros for him to lend the boat to them.

  Land was in sight as Clytemnestra glimpsed foggy crags and a lone lighthouse to her left. Based on the old paper maps enclosed in the captain’s quarters, the Aran Islands should be on the left—and mainland Ireland on the right. The fog was thick enough that Clytemnestra couldn’t see anything, but her hearing greatly magnified the waves lapping against the boat’s dull grey hull and the engine quietly plodding at the back.

  We’re almost to Galway soon. Helen appeared on the deck and peered over the sea. Dana, are we there yet?

  Ten minutes! Dana mentally shouted. Everyone had decided that Dana would be captaining the ship for safety reasons.

  Good. Helen leaned on the bow of the ship, her eyes drifting to some point over the horizon.

  She had been different ever since they’d swerved past Gibraltar. At first, it had been a few bouts of lethargy: she sat down more often than standing and slept for more than twelve hours. It had progressed in a listless ennui and twitching hands by the time they’d stopped for supplies in Brittany. When pressed, Chiara had admitted to seeing the twitching hands after the Coliseum. Probing her mind couldn’t help because Helen had blocked off parts of her mind to Clytemnestra’s reach.

  The best she could do at the moment was watch. Helen’s twintails were billowing in the wind, daffodil yellow on a foggy white. Clytemnestra took up leaning on the opposite side.

  Are you alright—

  Did I ever tell you about the time we stole the King’s crown from the Fifth House? It’s a pretty fun tale, it all happened because you—

  She always did this whenever Clytemnestra asked about her health, weaving stories or teaching her new techniques. Sure, it was nice to know many, many ways to shapeshift, but the tremors were getting worse.

  As she listened to Helen spin her stories, the little ship drew closer and closer to the coastline. Soon, she found that the boat had already docked, and Amalia and Chiara were tying up the boat at port.

  “Clytemnestra! The taxi will be here in five minutes! Do you have everything that you need?” Amalia asked.

  She nodded.

  “That’s good to hear, but we shouldn’t be late. The self-driving taxi services in Ireland only permit a one minute grace period before they won’t let you into the taxi.”

  By the time Clytemnestra and Amalia reached the taxi, Chiara was at the driver’s seat with Dana on the passenger’s side and Helen was sitting in the back dozing up. Clytemnestra took the middle seat and Amalia found herself in the left seat. They had requested a large Jeep, so Augustus was sleeping in the trunk with the windows rolled down slightly.

  “Taxi! How long is the trip?” asked Clytemnestra.

  “About two hours and thirty minutes. Calamity forecast is minimal.”

  “Thanks,” she responded as she settled in for a long trip.

  After thirty minutes, everyone except Amalia and Clytemnestra had fallen asleep. Helen seemed to be getting a good night’s rest judging by the way her mouth curled up in her sleep. Once Clytemnestra was sure everyone was asleep, she pulled out the laptop.

  “Ready?” she asked Amalia.

  Amalia flipped up her veil. “Ready.”

  The laptop opened to a black screen with electric blue tidbits of code floating about. At a rapid fire pace, Clytemnestra typed over thirty questions to the mysterious helper behind the screen. Everything from their age to where they lived, their real name, and whether they could provide another list of auctioneers and who bought what. Amalia supplied her own questions as well, like asking about how long they had been watching her, how they learned how to hack, and whether they could provide further information on the Seven Sisters.

  Exhausting all questions, the two of them waited for a response—which came five minutes later.

  “These are bank details—for a private account at a Lemurian bank.” Based on preliminary research before they departed, Clytemnestra knew that Seven Sisters Investment Holdings had dealings in Lemuria.

  “The transaction history shows that the most recent transaction was a deposit of ten million Euros into the account from an unknown IP address. The one before that was a withdrawal of twenty million Euros from another unknown IP address.” Amalia tilted her head. “I’m not sure what they want us to do with this information.”

  “Whose name is it under?”

  “Europa Kriti.” The name was familiar to Clytemnestra, but she couldn’t place it.

  The rest of the questions were left unanswered. Clytemnestra kept poking at the screen and demanding answers until she was locked out of the laptop. By that time, the sun had fully set over the hills of rural Ireland. Looking at the stars, she wondered if she could see Gemini at this time of year. She wasn’t much for stargazing, but the desire to learn more burned strongly within her. She went over her cover identity before she took a much needed long rest.

  “We’re here.”

  Chiara was shaking her shoulder with a constant smile on her face. Helen, Dana, and Augustus were stretching out, clearly having just woken up, and Amalia was using the laptop.

  “The main entrance should be four metres away from us.” She pointed past some small bushes.

  For a financial company close to Dublin, there was a lot of shrubbery and greenery. Clytemnestra found that she had to tiptoe to peer over the bushes.

  Helen grinned. “We should all detransform. We wouldn’t want any bystanders to get suspicious do we?”

  Clytemnestra took her silicon amulet and whispered. “Silence me, for I understand everything now.”

  The amulet followed her commands and transformed her back to her old self. She felt all too aware of the creases, the wear and tear that her skin showed. Chiara and Amalia were both fixing their hair and clothes. Dana and Augustus were both staring at the front entrance.

  “It’s probably best if Dana and Augustus wait outside. Lions aren’t allowed in most public buildings and Clytemnestra and Helen can’t read animal minds. If anything happens to us, you two need to be our backups.” Chiara stated to Dana and Augustus.

  Dana nodded. “It’s a banking firm, right? They can be slimy, but not physically dangerous. Don’t worry, we’ve got your back. Just let us know when.”

  The building was surprisingly traditional. It looked like an old brick and mortar building Clytemnestra would find in a seventy year old movie. Green was the motif here, between the emeralds in the stained glass and the hanging plants over the entrance. She was surprised that a banking firm would have this style of decoration. The amount of pink roses would have led her to believe this was a florist’s boutique, but the address was right.

  Looking around, Clytemnestra knocked on the door. The website she’d found had said you could enter if you had an appointment. Hopefully they took walk-ins.

  Someone jiggled with the doorknob. When it opened, Clytemnestra was greeted with a surprise. A young woman wearing a dark green cotton hoodie was standing in the doorway. In her right hand, she was clutching a clipboard. A holographic light green screen blinked into existence over her right eye.

  “Can I help you?” She asked with a tone reserved for dealing with annoying customers.

  Clytemnestra sized her up. It was common to encounter companies and businesses that wanted a more ‘retro’ design, but not common to mix up the two decades. The attire the woman was wearing was more common in Silicon Valley businesses during the mid to late 2010s than the mid to late 1980s. Not to mention that her dress pants were hanging from the tip of her pelvis and not significantly higher than her waist line. Her hoodie was covering her head, which was strange. Even the most laid back workplaces required that employees dress for business casual. This barely qualified as ‘business’, yet the countenance of the woman suggested that she was used to dominating any room based on the weight of her gaze and the self-assured posture. Clytemnestra will keep an eye on…Siobhan according to the name tag. Taking a deep breath, she thought about her cover: Iris Thompson. If she had to conceal herself, she might as well make a concerted effort.

  “Hi, I’m here because I found out that my husband had died recently. While I was taking inventory, I noticed that he had an account with Seven Sisters.” Iris affected a mild sigh, waving her hand over her mouth. “I’ve never been one for financial matters. I barely passed my A-levels in mathematics, so I was wondering if I could speak to someone who knows more than me…?”

  Siobhan’s eyes glazed over Iris. “An English woman. I can take you to the head of our banking services. Who are the women with you?”

  “Oh!” Iris sighed again. “These are my in-laws. They’re helping me…with everything right now.”

  Siobhan had a heart of stone judging by her lack of a reaction. “Right this way.”

  Iris looked around. Where had Helen gone?

  All three of them followed Siobhan through the building. Again, Iris noted that the building interior did not match the outside. It looked modern compared to the attire sported by the employees typing hastily on their computers. The ground floor was the main area, stocked with rows and rows of tiny cubicles and phones ringing off of each desk. They descended a flight of stairs past concrete columns with a rose motif and turned right into a glass-paneled office. Iris read off “Aoibh O’Leary, Head of Financial Services” off the glass door.

  “Ms. O’Leary? These three need to speak with you,” Siobhan stated to an older redheaded woman in a larger green cloak.

  “Send them off. I don’t have an appointment with them—”

  “We’re here about the auction in Geneva,” Chiara interrupted in Italian.

  Evidently Aoibh knew Italian based on the way her eyes widened in surprise. “Siobhan, inform everyone that I will be occupied for the next hour. Don’t let anyone else into the building.”

  “Yes Ms. O’Leary.” Siobhan quietly shut the sliding door.

  Aoibh glanced outside before immediately placing her hands in a steeple position. “How do you know about that auction?”

  Chiara looked at Iris…Iris who spoke English but knew Italian from her late husband. Chiara’s knowledge of English was lacking.

  “I’ll translate for her,” spoke Iris.

  “The man who died was a friend of ours and we wanted to find his possessions,” Chiara explained.

  Aoibh’s grass green eyes glimmered at the word ‘possessions’. “I see. Did you want them back?”

  “We’re looking for a specific item. We’ve asked a few buyers, but they didn’t have it.”

  “Do you know what it was?”

  Chiara blinked and pulled Iris aside. “What was the item?”

  This was something Clytemnestra should have known…but had never been told. “Keep fishing for information.”

  Chiara turned back to Aoibh. “My friend bought it as a surprise for me, but died first.”

  “How did you find us in the first place?”

  “Because we found your business card in one of the buyers’ houses.” Amalia handed the business card to Aoibh. “He said that two women in dark green cloaks visited him. Identical to yours.”

  She held the business card and fixed all of them with a determined stare. “Who are you?”

  “Like I said, we’re friends of the deceased.” Chiara smiled.

  “What do you know about us?”

  Iris scanned the room. Very few personal decorations, except for the emerald encrusted objects, two grey filing cabinets—and a small bull statuette.

  “That you’re a banking firm renowned in both Ireland and Lemuria, that your C-suite is one of the most reclusive groups in the world, and that the image you present doesn’t match what you are,” Iris concluded. “You all act like a high ranking financial group, yet no one here dresses like it, not even the senior employees.” She stared at Aoibh and her incredibly large hoodie. “If I took that off…what would I find underneath?”

  In one fluid motion, Iris pulled off Aoibh’s hood—revealing red cow ears and two pale curved bull horns. Amalia’s shock was immediately overshadowed by Chiara’s dramatic gasp.

  “A cow?” Cow, green, emeralds…Taurus?

  “Tell me a very good reason why I shouldn’t press this button and lock down the facility.” Aoibh flipped open a small switch on the side of the desk.

  “Because I’m the King,” answered Chiara confidently in her best English.

  Aoibh looked at Chiara. “And how are you going to prove that?”

  “By transforming in front of you.”

  It was Iris’ turn to state at Chiara with a blank face along with Amalia. “We shouldn’t—”

  Chiara was already holding onto her golden amulet. “The rays of the Sun shine upon me in all of my glory. Bathe me in majesty and establish my rule here.”

  The amulet burst forth, shedding radiance in the office—and blinding everyone in the process. Iris clutched her eyes in pain as the light enveloped her field of vision. Once the light receded, she observed scattershot dark spots in her vision. Amalia must have gotten her glasses out beforehand since she wasn’t clutching her head in pain like Aoibh. A hand reached out in front of Iris. Taking it, she came face to face with Chiara’s white leaf-like uniform.

  “Are you fine?” Chiara asked.

  “Yes.” Some of the dark spots were disappearing.

  Aoibh managed to stay standing, her red hair covering her eyes. “So it’s true.” She scanned Amalia and Iris. “Are you the King’s attendants then? None of you have leonine ears.”

  Chiara looked at Iris, who immediately started translating for Chiara. Chiara’s eyes visibly brightened at the mention of attendants.

  “We’re looking for the Key he had before he died,” Amalia stated. “We know he died under suspicious circumstances. It would be the Key to the Third House. We were wondering if you had it.”

  Iris detected a hint of recognition in Aoibh’s face, but the calm face slowly settled in. “I’m not sure what you are talking about, and if we were interested in the duplicitous tricksters and the impure object they enchanted for their Key, we would not blatantly advertise it.”

  Iris felt a wince of sympathy as Amalia continued on. “You do know something about the auction. If you have it, can you give it to us?”

  Aoibh’s dark green eyes glimmered. “If you’re willing to pay an initial price.”

  Amalia looked at Iris. “Do we have any money?”

  There was that bank account…though it could be the company’s bank account. Who was Europa?

  Amalia shook her head as she thought it over. “We don’t have enough money to give without cutting back on necessary food and any money we need for shelter.”

  “How about we negotiate for a price?” Chiara butted in.

  Amalia sighed. “That works too, Frau Agosti is charismatic enough that we should find a price optimal for both parties…and where is Helen?”

  Good question, thought Iris. For some reason, Helen was adamant on wearing a headscarf when they visited and making sure that Iris wasn’t involved with the Third House in any way. Given Aoibh’s reaction to the mere mention of it, Helen had a point.

  Iris translated between Chiara and Aoibh, before her mind started to wander. Where was Helen?

  “Let’s talk outside.” Iris motioned to both Amalia and Chiara.

  Leaving the office, Iris asked in Italian. “What was the starting price?”

  “Ten thousand Euros,” answered Chiara.

  Amalia drew a sharp breath. “Most travellers don’t carry a thousand Euros, let alone ten thousand Euros. How are we supposed to get that much money?”

  Again, Iris thought about the Lemurian account. “She knows about the Key. I saw it in her eyes. If we can find more information, like about the green cloaked people, we can use it as leverage to negotiate for a fairer price. If we learn where the Key is, even better.”

  “I don’t think we should start with blackmail. She would be more willing to deal with us in good faith if we’re more honest,” replied Chiara. “Besides, I have a sword in my heart. Nothing bad will happen.”

  “Are you talking about Ms. O’Leary?” another accountant asked, her hoodie slipping to show off some cow horns and long black hair. “I know she likes to squeeze profit out of everything, but if you’re from the Houses, we should be helping you.”

  “We are,” Chiara puffed herself up. “Do you have the Key of the Third House in your possession?”

  The black haired woman stared at her. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian.”

  Iris was about to translate when she heard someone yelp and a mild commotion off in the distance. “Does anyone hear that?”

  There was someone yelling—Iris and Amalia peered over behind the wall to check.

  Helen was sprinting at a record pace, her headscarf almost coming off at the speed she was running and her shirt packed with a large amount of small square objects. Behind her were five security guards all yelling in an unknown language.

  “We need to get out of here now—noy yah!” Helen tripped over Amalia’s foot, landing with a sprawl as she slammed into a nearby concrete wall.

  All of the objects she had been carrying in her shirt scattered across the ground. There were a few sturdy vials, a small crate, but many of the objects were small felt-covered boxes. Amalia picked up a dark green box and opened it.

  “These look like medications.” Amalia handed it to Iris. “Can you read them?”

  Iris stared at the writing. This was a script she had never seen before. It reminded her of the time she visited Crete for a photo-op and she had visited the Minoan temples at Knossos. The strange writing there almost reminded her of this.

  “I can’t.” She began to collect more of them off the ground.

  “You’re working with her!?” Aoibh stepped out of her office. The accountant muttered something in Irish Gaelic and slipped away.

  “I can explain—”

  Aoibh looked between a groaning Helen and Iris. “The two of you—”

  “Oh she’s a random human I found.” Helen grinned. Was it just Iris, or was Helen’s hair turning grey? “She was kinda funny, so I decided to bring her along for the ride.”

  “Do you know these people?” Amalia asked Helen.

  “Relax, the Third House and the Second House have had their differences, but I’m sure time has healed any and all wounds.” Helen clasped her hands together. “Now, as you can see, this looks bad right now, but I can explain. I was trying to find something I lost a while back and—”

  “You said this when you tried to steal the Keeper’s prized roses, you used the same excuse when you decided to try and cut off the Pleiades’ horns, and you said that again when you were caught trying to get the Sage to change the House into your personal swimming pool.”

  “Alright, so this might still be on your mind, but all of this is for a good cause.” Helen’s bright yellow eyes glittered. “Trust me.”

  “I will not hear any more deception coming from your mouth, Weaver of Lies,” retorted Aoibh, her own green eyes brimming with malice.

  Amalia’s eyes darted towards Helen. “Weaver of Lies…?”

  Helen shrugged, looked at all of the pills and boxes she was holding—and threw half of them at Aoibh and took off running.

  I’ll explain later, she telepathically shouted. For now, start running!

  “What were you doing—?” Chiara created a hard light wall between the security guards and her. “We need to get Helen back! Clytemnestra, Amalia, transform now!”

  Amalia placed her soundproof headphones over her ears as she recited her transformation phase. Dropping all pretenses, Clytemnestra grabbed her own silicon amulet.

  “Hear my voice as I connect with the world’s stories!”

  The amulet heard her voice and enveloped her in yellow light. She felt her plain brown hair revert back to the bright yellow of her youth and her eyes take on the same hue as Helen’s. When she opened her eyes, multiple plants were entwined with the concrete, while some of the beige walls showed signs of cracking. Based on the sounds of grunting and yelling, the employees were busy trying to get through the barricade, so Clytemnestra started running away.

  The walls transitioned from an earthy beige concrete to a smooth, blemish-free metallic surface. Her voice echoed more often than not, each hallway was more winding than the last, and she lost track of Amalia. Stopping behind a crevice, she reached out with her mind.

  Is this Clytemnestra or Helen? …what did the two of you do this time?

  Clytemnestra. She tried to connect to Helen, but her twin was unreachable. Dana, we’re holed up in an underground facility. It’s practically a maze. Amalia, Chiara, and I are trying to locate Helen. Once we get out of here, we’ll meet you and Augustus—

  They’re over there! The security guards?

  Clytemnestra peeked out of the crevice—before noticing the long cattle prods crackling with electricity. She sprinted ahead. The further away she was from the cattle prods, the better. Her mind called out to Chiara and Amalia.

  Why, why, why, why are there cattle prods? You’re with people, you’re with people, you’re—

  Eh!? They keep coming even when I cut them in half? Let’s show them what a star can do!

  Based on their thoughts and reactions to their immediate environment, Clytemnestra was not the only one with multiple pursuers. Around a corner, she sharply turned and let her cords inject her inner voice into the ground. The resulting shockwaves broke up the concrete floor and made jagged cracks in it. That should give her enough time to run the rest of the length—

  “Castor!” Helen shouted. “There you are!”

  “Where the hell have you been? What were you carrying around? What are those things?”

  “I’ll explain when we find a safe place.” Helen sounded extremely out of breath.

  “Dana and Augustus should exfiltrate us—” Something was wrong. She tuned into Chiara and Amalia’s mental frequencies. Nothing. “Can you hear—”

  She felt the electric zap of the cattle prods as she watched Helen be electrocuted from behind.

  She wasn’t the first to wake.

  Her head was throbbing now. That would be Chiara’s fault, whose prone body was splayed over her torso. At around 1.8 metres tall and the weight to match it, Chiara wasn’t the lightest person in the room. Clytemnestra groaned as she and Chiara tried to prop themselves up. Helen was unconscious and Amalia had curled up into a ball. The floor was a metallic grey and shaped like a hexagon. Three bright green tubes were surrounding the ground. She knocked on the equally metallic grey walls. Solid. She checked the other five sides. All solid. No hint of a hidden hollow compartment.

  A sob escaped Amalia as she dug her hands further into her dress. Clytemnestra picked up on the ruffling of multiple layers and her carbon amulet being fidgeted with.

  I’m in a cell again, I don’t know what’s going on, I’m trapped in here, I’m not going to escape—

  Amalia. Clytemnestra began. We’re going to be alright. Everything will be fine, we’ll find Dana and Augustus, we’ll be out of here in no time.

  …do you have a plan?

  Of course we do. Just like in Geneva.

  Amalia shuffled forward. I trust you. What has been done so far?

  None of the walls are hollow. Can you detect any flaws?

  No.

  Chiara was standing again. Light shone from her palm as she summoned a hard light rod.

  “Let’s see if you can withstand this!” Chiara swung her pulsing rod at the tubes—which upon contact shot an intense bolt of energy at Chiara, flinging her to the ground.

  “Frau Agosti, you’ve tried this more than once. None of your attempts worked,” Amalia stated. “We should do something else.”

  “There has to be a way out.” Chiara summoned a pillar of light to push the ceiling upwards. It was gaining ground — before it shot back with the intensity of a shooting star. Purple-tinged electricity fried everyone’s minds.

  Once Amalia regained consciousness, her face contorted into that of an exasperated school teacher. “We’re pursuing other options. At this point, you’re only going to injure yourself and everyone else.”

  “One of these is going to work.” Chiara raised her hand to create another construct—only for her to be suddenly contained in a barrier. “What—”

  “I’m taking preemptive measures.” Amalia flicked her wrist, expanding her shield to its full size. The face on the shield looked vaguely familiar to Clytemnestra.

  As Chiara struggled to free herself from the airtight sphere, the veiled girl started analyzing the room they were in.

  Helen is still unconscious. I estimate the height of the ceiling to be four metres tall based on Chiara’s height when standing. Touching the walls appears to incite an electric current. There are no apparent flaws within the design of the room…I can’t be trapped again. I have to find a way out. Frau Agosti tried attacking it but—no that would still touch the walls. Any way to remotely disable—no potential path there. Clytemnestra would have read someone else’s mind by now, which means we’re alone. I can’t stay here. If—

  Amalia was clearly spiralling—and the sphere was rapidly shrinking around a rapidly panicking Chiara. Amalia was hyperventilating, judging from her harried breathing. Helen hadn’t awakened despite being shocked. Clytemnestra had persuaded people before. As long as it was a reasonable suggestion, she should be listened to.

  Amalia, Chiara, you’ve been electrocuted twice. Why don’t both of you calm down?

  Amalia seemed to visibly relax, slowly exhaling—while Chiara slashed through the shield with her sword, quickly breathing in and out. Was that supposed to happen?

  “What was that for? I couldn’t breathe in there!” Chiara shouted.

  “I just needed some time to myself, especially since you weren’t contributing much.” Amalia noticed the sword. “Can you put that away?”

  “No. Did you figure a way out yet?”

  “I’m trying to think of one, now if you can please let me think in peace—”

  “Maybe instead of being snippy towards Chiara, we can pool together what we know so far?” Clytemnestra pointed out. If she wanted to listen to petty infighting, she would’ve gone to work or listened to the minds of the people at Westminster.

  Both of them turned to her.

  …you of all people should not be lecturing me on when to not be ‘snippy’ to others.

  Did you try to use your powers on me?

  They weren’t pleased. Amalia was glaring at her and Chiara looked disappointed with her arms crossed. “There is a time for talking—and I guess the time is now. Now what do you—”

  “What was your sister doing?” Chiara asked with a sharp intonation. “Was she trying to steal from them?” She wasn’t immediately hostile based on her body language.

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  “I noticed your sister was gone too. I thought she stepped away for a second, but Frau Agosti is correct: what was she doing? Clearly, the actions she took were not justifiable to the banking firm.” Now Amalia had her arms crossed.

  “Look, I don’t know why she did what she did, or why they were chasing her.” She did want to know though. “If we can all—”

  The entire room erupted into bickering. Clytemnestra suppressed the urge to sigh at everyone’s thoughts. So far, it hadn’t escalated to blows, only Amalia swiping jabs at Chiara’s chest and Chiara getting increasingly frustrated.

  “If we can contact Dana and Augustus—”

  “They don’t know what we are facing, and your plan has too many flaws. I say we—”

  “Both of your ideas are half-baked. I say we—”

  Chiara raised her golden sword and Amalia faced her with her shield.

  Clytemnestra sighed. “Can you both not—”

  “Only when she learns her place!” Chiara shouted.

  She swung down her sword as Amalia met her with her shield—only for a white and yellow pen lance to obstruct the two from meeting.

  “By the Muse, can you all. Please. Stop. Arguing.” Helen struck her pen lance into the ground as she stared at everyone. “Your thoughts are giving me a migraine.”

  Chiara moved to speak, but found no words came out of her mouth. The astonished look on her face made Clytemnestra giggle.

  “Regulus, your ego knows no bounds. You might be favoured by the Muse, but you were never goddess chosen.”

  “Well then—” Amalia started.

  “Spica, your strictness and endless perfectionist tendencies are going to be the end of us. Just because you have the ability to see the flaws in everything does not mean you have to nitpick everything.”

  Amalia was about to reply, but her mouth made no sound.

  “If she saw us now, she would be disappointed.” Helen started laughing. “Look at us, languishing in an underground maze at Debaran’s whims.”

  I did not significantly critique any strategy prior to today, Amalia thought.

  Who is the Muse? Chiara asked.

  Helen stared at them. “You—you don’t know? We owe our lives to her, her face is on Spica’s shield, and you—you can hear her.” She reached out to Clytemnestra. “Castor—”

  Her eyes abruptly bulged.

  Before Clytemnestra could move, Helen collapsed to the floor, coughing out dark viscous globs.

  “Helen!” she shouted.

  All three of them abandoned what they were doing and rushed to help Helen to her feet. She looked especially pale, Clytemnestra thought.

  “Her pulse is faint,” reported Amalia. “And her breathing is incredibly shallow.”

  “We need to revive her.” Chiara turned to Clytemnestra. “Read her mind. She’s been acting off for a while. If she knows what’s afflicting her, we can treat it. Otherwise, I can try to get Amalia to help diagnose her.”

  “I’m not a diagnostician—”

  “At the moment, you are the only person present with the ability to accurately measure her health. Unless Clytemnestra knows anything?”

  “I know CPR.” There had been a mandatory session at work. It had come into play too many times for Clytemnestra’s liking. “She’s still conscious.”

  The pen is always mightier than the sword?

  Why did you faint? Clytemnestra shivered as she felt Helen’s cold skin. What’s been going on? I know you’ve been hiding something from me. Tell me please.

  Helen opened her eyes. We call them Perils. The one in Rome…I’m not used to fighting one-on-one. We relied on each other…I wasn’t expecting it to deploy its fangs underwater.

  She must have been stealing medicine to cure her condition.

  I would call it procuring for a good cause. Said good cause being my health and wellness. The Second House has always been too greedy. Those pills were made by the Alchemist and are the only cure. You need to get them for me—

  Helen leaned over and coughed out even more black matter mixed with a silvery liquid.

  Are there no flaws in this room at all? Clytemnestra asked Amalia.

  No, but I was not in my right mind. I can try again if needed.

  I want to try something first.

  Amalia stuck her fingers in her ears.

  Chiara, mind if I test a theory?

  Sure, but what is it?

  I’m going to see if this repels our powers and reveal any passageways in or out.

  Chiara formed noise cancelling headphones over Amalia and herself. Clytemnestra identified the top of the ceiling—and channelled her voice. She noticed the ceiling bend—before the echoes reverberated back, slamming everyone to the ground.

  With her head pounding, she asked Amalia. Anything new?

  Amalia tapped the wall. It’s likely that our powers would be rendered ineffective by the room. I did sense a small panel on your left.

  Good enough.

  She procured the white and gold pen lance and traced the wall where Amalia pointed…still nothing.

  “Even if our powers rebound on us, surely Morning Glory won’t fail.” Chiara hefted her golden sword and swung it at the wall.

  In spite of the odds, the longsword cleaved through the wall like butter. Clytemnestra immediately spotted the small alcove hidden in the back of the wall. Taking apart the panel, there was a tiny bronze lock, so small that Clytemnestra had to squint to see it.

  No one was looking at her, were they? Chiara and Amalia were busy strategizing over what to do next. Thankfully, both of them were approaching this with cooler heads. She had some shapeshifting practice with Helen, but that relied on impersonation rather than the fine details. In theory, she should be able to transform her fingers. Clytemnestra pictured it now. Her fingers into ribbons of quicksilver, identical to her tools at home—there!

  All ten of her fingers became basic flesh coloured lock picking tools. Clytemnestra touched one of them—and felt a recoiling sensation. They were still fleshy, so she probably couldn’t yank them too hard or she would dislocate it. She inserted her right index finger into the lock, but couldn’t reach inside. Every finger on her right hand didn’t get far in depth. Eventually it was her left pinky finger that wasn’t turned back by the lock. She felt every crevice, letting her finger fill the necessary space. She was surprised at the low-tech security used by the Seven Sisters.

  Her finger was fully inserted into the lock. With a gentle twist, she twisted the lock counterclockwise. Behind her, interlocking rectangles started to disappear before revealing a passageway forward.

  Clytemnestra shouldered Helen’s prone body while Amalia formed shields around all of them.

  “This is quality manufacturing,” she exclaimed. “Look at how each component fits seamlessly with each other. The perfection of these pieces—what’s this?” Amalia examined a small marking on the metal door. “I recognize this…I don’t know why.”

  That’s the Chinese character for chicken, Clytemnestra wanted to add—before the faraway sound of an alarm caught her attention. “Either Dana and Augustus found their way here, or they know we’ve escaped.”

  Chiara held her sword in a fighting stance and manifested a hard light golden shield in front of them. “Get behind me.”

  Amalia held up her own shield while Clytemnestra picked up Helen’s pen lance with her free hand. It was surprisingly light for something the same size as her. Helen never taught her how to use it, but like her coworker used to say, the heat of the moment is the best teacher.

  Amalia had switched to the back of the group when they were ambushed. Chiara’s sword sliced through several of the cattle prods as multiple beams hit bull horned humans. Amalia was using the shields and enclosing people in them, leading to the amusing sight of horned men and women desperately trying to escape from them. She readjusted Helen’s head on her shoulders.

  Wow, there’s a lot of them! Chiara thought.

  It looks like a tactical strike team. Amalia analyzed the hallways. We are boxed in if we’re being attacked from both sides.

  Clytemnestra heard some footsteps from the other end—though given how Chiara was in the middle of dueling a masked cow woman, she wasn’t in the best position to help. Amalia had zero direct combat experience. She was good at supporting and her book smart knowledge was generally good in a pinch, but Clytemnestra wouldn’t trust her to fight lots of people at once. Helen was ill and barely alive, judging from her laboured breathing. She relayed her thoughts to both of them.

  We should split up. Chiara added after blocking a swing and knocking the cow woman with the pommel of her sword. I’m an amazing fighter, I should be able to hold them off. Helen needs her cure, and we need someone to meet with Dana and Augustus.

  Clytemnestra looped Amalia into what Chiara said.

  If we split up, the reduction in numbers could mean a reduction in strength. I don’t think I have the skills necessary to engage in combat beyond defensive manoeuvres. Clytemnestra is hindered by having to look after Helen—

  They’re getting closer! The rise and fall of intrepid footsteps were increasing in volume. If I don’t move now, I have to do it alone—

  Too late. They were upon them in an instant.

  Amalia yelped as her shield met unexpected resistance. Were the workers here trying to charge her shield? Clytemnestra would’ve asked Helen about the Second House, but she was still listlessly staring into space. The swift swing of Chiara’s golden sword clashed with a bronze warhammer wielded by one of the security guards.

  There’s too many people. Amalia looked at Clytemnestra. You need to run. Chiara and I can hold them off. You have a unique set of powers that should allow you to evade capture. Find Dana and find a cure for Helen.

  She watched the fight between Chiara and the security guards, awaiting an opening. Amalia’s entire strategy relied on not creating an opening, so making headway through her side wasn’t an option. Chiara had been dealing severe blows to the security forces though—there! One of them was moving to attack Chiara on her left side while she was engaged with a horned man, leaving his side open. During the ensuing sword fight, something fell out of his ear when Chiara landed a blow against his head. Clytemnestra linked her mind to his.

  I think you should relax. You’re surrounded by allies, you can let your guard down.

  Once his shoulders relaxed and his grip on his taser loosened, Clytemnestra seized the moment, dashing through and using the cords to stun the dazed security guard.

  She continued running, only stopping to make sure Helen was still with her. Clytemnestra decided that a piggyback was the best way. It shouldn’t be too uncomfortable for her. With Helen’s long twintails framing her face, she carried onwards.

  She had found a few stunned guards in the various hallways. Clean cuts and slices into the wall denoted where Amalia and Chiara had been. At one point, she passed by a long slash through the wall that could have only been made by Amalia. Why had Amalia tried to attack the wall? Helen was falling off, so Clytemnestra readjusted her. Her hands were cold and…slippery? It was strange to not hear Helen’s voice in her head. She had to cure her condition—and soon. Helen’s fingers were starting to turn silver.

  Retracing their steps wasn’t helping her find an exit. Clytemnestra recalled her passage through the labyrinth. No doors, no windows, and the few markers were useless to guide her way. All there was was cold hard concrete and the echoes of conflict far away. There were the minds of the security guards. Clytemnestra concentrated on their minds, but couldn’t read their minds. They must have a telepathic blocking device, she reasoned. Since there was no immediate danger, she set down Helen on the floor. Again, the lost connection they shared unnerved Clytemnestra. Something about Helen’s presence set her at ease.

  Got you.

  Clytemnestra had barely enough time to activate the pen lance before blocking a strike from a greatsword. Bright yellow eyes locked onto pale green eyes before both of them disengaged from each other.

  “So you’ve decided to escape from your rightful imprisonment,” Siobhan grunted out. Two small yellow horns and cow ears adorned her head, and no hoodie disguise was in sight.

  “Listen, she just needed it to treat her injuries.” She readied the pen. “I don’t understand why you all threw us in prison. We didn’t know anything about it—”

  “Lies.” Siobhan pointed her sword at Clytemnestra. “You three were a distraction for her. She had always coveted the riches of the Second House for herself and you: now that you all led her here, why wouldn't she take that chance?”

  Clytemnestra wanted to object to her statement, but that look in her eyes and the heels digging into the floor screamed stubborn and obstinate. Persuading her was a lost cause. The best she could do was block her attacks and contact Dana. She tilted her head forward when Siobhan decided on a decapitating strike. Without a suitable weapon, the most she could do was treat this like a game of dodgeball—except the ball was a sharp sword that kept leaving cracks in the wall. Clytemnestra regretted her lack of extensive self-defense as she narrowly avoided being stabbed by Siobhan.

  Dana?

  Clytemnestra! Me and Augustus are trying to head downstairs! Where are you?

  In this maze in the basement. Clytemnestra ducked to avoid a slash from Siobhan. I’m a bit tied up at the moment, can you hurry?

  We’re trying. This harpoon works like a charm. Augustus…is Augustus. He’s not killing anyone. Where is Chiara? What about Amalia?

  They’re very busy fighting security. Clytemnestra jumped up to avoid a low hanging slice, the sword embedding itself into the wall. I’m trying to get back to the surface, Helen’s unconscious.

  What!?

  I’ll tell you later.

  Augustus and I are coming in, hold on!

  Siobhan had freed her sword from the concrete and was going for the next swing. She scanned over the pen lance. Helen had thrown it and retrieved it, right? She looked at her bracers, especially at the agate gem. No time like the present to try new things.

  She let her mind open to any frequencies and sounds, channelling them to her mouth. When Siobhan charged forward, Clytemnestra let out a sonic scream, sending Siobhan across the room. Just for good measure, she threw the pen lance into her knee and pressed on her agate gem. The pen lance shot towards her—and past her waiting arm into the concrete wall on the other side.

  The cow woman was charging forward, somehow.

  At the speed Siobhan was running at her, Clytemnestra couldn’t deploy the cords in time to stop her advance. Out of sheer panic, she grabbed the nearest blunt object—and whacked Siobhan with Helen’s prone body.

  Siobhan collapsed instantly, her head hitting the concrete with a hard thump. Clytemnestra slumped onto the wall next to her. She had been exceeding her daily steps these days—but hadn’t she always had to push her limits at her job? The next time Clytemnestra saw her boss, she’d be demanding a raise.

  Clytemnestra checked Helen again. No injuries incurred, and it looked like she hit her with Helen’s legs. The legs didn’t have anything vital to being alive, so Helen should be fine. It wouldn’t hurt to assume Siobhan’s identity either…

  She woke Siobhan up, read her mind, and then knocked her unconscious again.

  Allowing herself to transform, she tried to connect with Siobhan—unfortunately, she could only glean surface level thoughts. Something caught her eye—the black book that Helen gave to her. Picking it up and retrieving Helen’s pen, she shrunk it down and wrote Siobhan’s name in the empty pages.

  Black ink descended from her name, filling in every single detail of Siobhan’s life. She wasn’t born in the Second House, she was born in Ireland, and her favourite food was Caesar salad. She liked to play golf with her co-workers, was seeing a man named Callum, and she was a portfolio manager. Clytemnestra immediately scribbled in asking for all of the accounts she managed, and found out the exact numbers and money in them.

  Apparently, the exit to the maze was the spot where Amalia was trying to attack. The code was 0207 and it was biometrically locked.

  Her transformation complete, Siobhan headed to the door and unlocked it. Inside was a lift with buttons for each floor. It was gaudily decorated, being studded with jewels with a bronze interior, but it strangely worked. Siobhan pressed the second floor button, which lit up green.

  While she waited for the lift, she opened the book to a different page and wrote the name ‘Aoibh O’Leary’ into the empty page.

  Nothing. The words stayed for a moment before disappearing. She reasoned that it only worked with people she had met in person.

  The lift dinged. The bronze coloured doors opened into a cubicle-filled room. Inside, many horned people were rushing in between desks. Everything was in either emerald green or rose pink. She quickly swiped sunglasses from an inattentive worker before someone nearly crashed into her.

  “Siobhan! I was just looking for you! You forgot the telepathic blocker!” She waved a blinking yellow device. It looked small enough to fit into her ear.

  Siobhan cautiously accepted it. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome! We need to be careful, especially since the twins are masters of deception. That they were brazen enough to steal medicine that rightfully belonged to the Taurus…” The young dark-haired woman leaned in. The same one that Chiara had been talking to earlier. “I’m glad we developed this before— Hey isn’t that one of the twins?”

  At that comment, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at Siobhan, who was still holding Helen by her shirt. Siobhan noticed that the same device was in the woman’s ear—and everyone else’s.

  “Yes. I’m taking her to Aoibh.” She held up Helen’s arm.

  The other woman laughed. “You don’t have to call her Aoibh here. It’s not like there are any humans here. I know that you are stuck on formal protocol, but you should rest someday.”

  They had fake names here? “I’ll take her there myself. I can’t let her escape.”

  Siobhan trudged forward, guided by the directory mounted next to the stairs. Aoibh O’Leary was listed…upstairs. Her job title in the directory was Head of Financial Services. She dragged Helen upstairs, her feet knocking against the wooden steps. Siobhan would have carried her, but that might have been suspicious to the hundreds of eyes on her.

  Oddly when she looked at the directory—there were no listings of where the C-suite was. Even though it was a directory of the entire building. Her only questions only mounted when she encountered the door to Aoibh’s office.

  “‘Aoibh O’Leary….Chief Financial Officer’.” Second House, second floor for the C-Suite, Siobhan assumed.

  She knocked on the door hard.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Siobhan.” She held up Helen’s arm. “I have one of the twins.”

  “...wonderful. Come in. The door’s unlocked.”

  Siobhan turned the doorknob with her free hand. Inside was Aoibh working away at a laptop. The exact same desk greeted her, but now it had more decorative flourishes. There were quite a lot of photos. Aoibh with what looked like a sister in a meadow, Aoibh proudly presenting a significant financial donation to the Seven Sisters from the Irish government, Aoibh with a group of six other women all sharing her green eyes—and Aoibh with a young teenage girl with dark auburn hair. Both of them were smiling for the camera, and they were holding—something? Siobhan couldn’t tell what it was.

  “Which twin is it?”

  Siobhan was snapped out of her thoughts. “The one with bunches?”

  “Pollux then.” Aoibh sighed. “I sent a communication to Security. They should be here in a few minutes. Subduing the Leo and the Virgo is taking longer than expected.”

  Siobhan suppressed any visible reactions to that. “I see. Anything else you need?”

  “If you can find the other twin, that would be helpful.” Aoibh scanned Siobhan. “A woman and a lion tried to invade the basement. We’re still looking for them.”

  “More allies of theirs?” Siobhan looked at the safe next to Aoibh. “Do you know what they were looking for? I heard something about a Key, but I had to attend to my workload immediately after the commotion.”

  “They’re looking for the Third House Key.” Aoibh stopped typing. “Unfortunately, Asterope and Merope were unable to acquire it in the auction. Someone managed to bid higher than us, somehow.” Her tone turned acrid. “If we had the computing power of the Eleventh House, we could have found the location of the person who stole it from it, but the Aquarius has chosen to steal from us rather than recognize our boundaries.”

  Siobhan thought about the mysterious benefactor and the Lemurian bank account. “Why would others steal from us? Like with the pills?”

  “Because our superiority is such that others want to take what’s ours, even if they don’t deserve it.” Aoibh shut off her laptop. “I want to show you something. Sit down.”

  Siobhan did as she was told. She watched as Aoibh got up and unlocked a nearby cabinet. 0513 was the code, Siobhan quickly memorized.

  “Have I ever shown you my prized possessions?”

  …she hadn’t read the whole page. Had Siobhan seen them? “I don’t think I ever had the chance to see them, ma’am.” Hopefully, that was the correct answer. She adjusted her glasses.

  Aoibh flashed a smile that cut deep into Siobhan’s spine. “All seven sisters have a few. Merope has her warhammer, Asterope has all of her collection, Taygete has her umbrella and mask, and mine…well I keep mine locked up in a closet for a reason.”

  Aoibh opened the cabinet. The first thing she noticed was the sheer amount of bejeweled artifacts. The second thing she noticed was the lacquer chessboard at the bottom. The third thing she realized was that she recognized the instrument Aoibh and the young girl was holding in the photograph.

  A very well-maintained black whip and set of torture instruments were staring back at her.

  Helen was finally stirring and moving around in Siobhan’s grasp. Her eyes widened as she gazed upon Aoibh’s cabinet. “Alcy—”

  A mad glint entered Aoibh’s eye. “Take off your glasses.”

  Siobhan shrugged. “The lion hit me with one of her attacks and blinded me—”

  “That wasn’t a question. Take off your glasses.” Aoibh started to take down the whip.

  Siobhan gulped. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I do have a lot of things to accomplish today.”

  Aoibh walked up to her and slapped her in the face—and ripped off her glasses, revealing confused yellow eyes.

  “I knew it.” Aoibh grabbed Siobhan’s upper arm. “Trying to trick me again, Castor?”

  Siobhan changed back into Clytemnestra and screamed into Aoibh’s face, knocking her into the wall and denting the safe. While the other woman was still dazed, she opened a drawer and grabbed all of the little dark green boxes. Activating Helen’s pen, Clytemnestra prepared to defend herself—only for the whip to immediately knock it far out of her hands. Aoibh was smiling with a maddened look as she drove Clytemnestra backwards. She tried to defend herself with an empty drawer, but that was quickly ripped away from her hands. The woman lived for this, Clytemnestra realized, to hurt and to torture those she believed wronged her.

  She was not going to win any protracted fight with this woman.

  One look at Helen was all it took for Clytemnestra to hoist her sister on her back and bolt out of the room. After housing Helen onto her back, she vaulted off of the stone balcony to the astonishment of a blur of onlookers and immediately pivoted to the rooms beneath the C-suite offices. In the distance, she heard Aoibh jump off the steps and call security.

  She wasn’t sure how long she was running for, but eventually she came to a stop at a square room. Clytemnestra opened Helen’s mouth and popped some of the pills in. They looked completely round with little swirls in them. Her twin gagged a little, but a little colour was slowly seeping into her hair and skin.

  Thank you…I hear them approaching. I’m telling Dana that we’ve escaped—let’s dive into this room!

  Seeing as she couldn’t see any other rooms, Clytemnestra rapidly opened up the door and shoved Helen inside, locking it. The room was the same bronze colour as much of the walls in the building were…but incredibly smooth. Helen seemed to be interested in the small headset sitting in the middle of the room. She put it on—and the room lit up in shades of yellow. She watched in awe as daffodils populated the room as far as the horizon reached. In the distance was some kind of building and the planet Mercury hung above them in the morning sky with a smattering of bright stars. Colourful butterflies started hovering over her and Helen, a light green one landing on her nose. A slight breeze ruffled the flowers, sending a small wave across the field.

  Where is this? It looked beautiful.

  This is the Third House. Helen blew on the butterflies, causing them to flutter away. They’re cute, aren’t they? We’ve tried to make nets, you and I. I think the last time you caught thirty of them, I caught a measly five. You’re very good with animals, Castor, and the Horse always liked you better than me. She smiled. I want to take you to the library there. I can’t describe it to you…you have to see it with your own eyes! There’s floors and floors of books…stained glass windows taller than you or I…there’s so much more…I wish we could go there now.

  Clytemnestra put her hand on Helen’s shoulder. We’ll go there one day, when we find the Key, wherever it is.

  Helen tried to stand up—only to stumble and fall. Clytemnestra leaned down and started supporting her on the shoulder. Looking around—there was no other exit other than how they entered. Clytemnestra whispered softly, letting her voice echo throughout the room, pinpointing a small maintenance door. Perfect, she thought, here was their escape route—

  A solid thunk ended her train of thought.

  The sensation of cold entrapped her wrists. Clytemnestra opened her eyes to a sterile grey room. Her wrists and ankles were strapped to the wall. Overhead was a vent, but it was too far for her to reach. She tried to speak—only for her voice to come out in muffled peaks and grunts. There was a solid round object in her mouth—and a gag on her face.

  “You’re awake.” Aoibh’s voice carried throughout the room.

  Clytemnestra tried to reply, but was immediately shocked. Wait—there were two other voices next to her. She reached out with her mind, but was met with extreme resistance—and a searing pain in the back of her head.

  “Let me be clear.” Aoibh flashed a wicked smile. “I seek to punish you for what you and your sister have done. Your offenses cannot stand to be unaddressed. To think that you two would come here and desecrate our rightful possessions is a sign of your callousness.”

  That didn’t explain why Chiara and Amalia were imprisoned with her. She could hear them moaning and straining against their bonds. Probably in another cell. Aoibh was surrounded by a few horned men and women, all working at various machines. Likely to control the prisoners. She reached out again—and her mind was left numb from the striking pain. No telepathy, otherwise she would be shocked. Why did this woman have so many issues?

  “Your lies have no place here.” Something about Aoibh…Clytemnestra felt like that wasn’t her true name. “But I unfortunately need you. Rip that gag off of her, I’m not taking any chances with her contacting any other sneaks we don’t know about.”

  A metallic arm stripped her of the gag. “What do you want? And where is my sister?” Aoibh’s eyes were the colour of fresh grass…why did they look so familiar?

  A screen popped out of a nearby panel and turned on. To her surprise, Helen was strapped to it…only she wasn’t doing as well as Clytemnestra had hoped for. Her once bright yellow hair had faded to near transparency, and parts of her cheeks were visibly sagging. She could barely keep her eyes open and Clytemnestra noticed something dripping off of Helen’s outstretched arms.

  “Did you do this to her?” Her voice was laced with a hint of fear.

  “No.” Aoibh was stroking her whip now. “When I swore my service to the Keeper, part of it was that I couldn’t harm any of the vessels of the Gates and the Houses. I’m sorely regretting that part, but I have to remain true to my oath…considering none of you do to your own.”

  Helen was barely breathing. Chiara was healthy and currently resisting against her braces based on what Clytemnestra could hear. No signs of life from Amalia, but she made coherent noises earlier, indicating that she was not grievously injured. That meant if they were to escape, Helen needed special attention—wait.

  Clytemnestra stopped her racing thoughts.

  No lion’s roar. Judging from what little she could see…there were four people here.

  “You want to know where the woman and the lion are.” Dana and Augustus must have evaded security. That gave her some hope.

  “If you are smart enough to know what I’m looking for…then you’re smart enough to know where they are.”

  “And what if I don’t want to answer?” If only she could read Dana’s mind.

  “Then your allies will suffer the consequences of your disobedience.” Aoibh shot Clytemnestra a manic smile. “I have so many fun ideas planned for you all…”

  “Torture doesn’t produce any results.” She’d had this discussion with her coworkers before when they were bored in the dreary London weather.

  “Who said I was doing this for results?”

  Clytemnestra froze. Torture for the sake of pleasure…persuading this woman would be tough, especially since she couldn’t give her what she wanted. Looking at her maddened expression, she deduced that Aoibh was a woman who lived for causing as much pain to others as she could. It didn’t matter if Clytemnestra surrendered their locations…she might hurt them all anyways—

  Remember…Taurus…

  She tried not to show visible movement, but she remained deep in thought. Helen had taught her about all twelve constellations and their mythology during their trip. There was a famous star cluster named the Pleiades…and seven sisters. Aoibh mentioned having sisters named Merope, Asterope, and Taygete, all of them were stars in the Pleiades. The only question was which sister? Helen…Helen had said someone’s name in the room.

  “I’ll tell you where they are…if you’ll promise to free all of us and heal Helen.”

  Aoibh lounged on the table in front of Clytemnestra’s cell, her red hair flowing over the left side of her face. “And why would I agree to that when I have you in my grasp?”

  “You’ll do it Alcyone, or do you want me to drain the rest of the Keeper’s finances?” Clytemnestra grinned as Aoibh—Alcyone’s composure slipped. “You see, we had a little bit of help. Do you know what two electric blue waves represent?”

  “The Aquarius is working with you!?” To be honest, Clytemnestra was bullshitting that part…but it’s working.

  “Dana left the building already. If I give her the signal, she has my permission to drain Europa’s bank account. Given how it’s also likely the company’s bank account and the likelihood that the account is tied to multiple shell companies that would inevitably be tied back to you, I would say that even if you had multiple bank accounts in the event of this happening, Dana would be able to find it immediately.” Alcyone’s reddening expression sealed it. “And if you want to torture me and the others, I can still tell Dana to wipe it. You might be the one controlling the machines, but can you do it faster than a single thought? It only takes one to reach her.”

  Alcyone was ready to push a lever before stopping herself. “That you would stoop so low as to threaten what is rightfully ours was never out of the question, considering your sister’s heinous crimes. We can…discuss terms.” It sounded like Alcyone was forcing out those words. “That you told me the Aquarius’ location is a benefit—”

  Helen’s eye twitched on the screen—before she ended up vomiting a mix of silvery-grey liquid and black coagulated solid matter. Her arms suddenly disassembled into a viscous silvery-grey liquid before restructuring themselves. Clytemnestra heard Amalia shrieking and Chiara yelling for someone in the background.

  Alcyone’s green eyes narrowed in visible terror. “Lock down the facility! Don’t let anyone in or out! And you!” Those eyes burrowed hard into Clytemnestra. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

  “What do you mean? What’s happening to her?”

  Alcyone’s eyebrow twitched. “You don’t know!? That you…by the Muse, seal those vents! It’s trying to get in!”

  Clytemnestra glanced at the edges of the screen. The black parts of Helen’s vomit were…moving towards the now sealed vents. Helen herself was still coughing up egregious amounts of it, expelling it on a continuous basis. For some reason, Clytemnestra felt a primal chill crawl up her arms. The fact that Alcyone was scared of whatever was afflicting Helen wasn’t promising.

  “Retrieve them!”

  The metallic platform below her abruptly fell downwards, sending her two long locks flying upwards. Once the platform was settled, Clytemnestra was dragged from the contraption and freed of her ankle restraints. Two horned men hauled her in front of Alcyone and dropped her on the floor. Clytemnestra pushed herself up from the floor to face emerald green eyes full of hatred.

  “Get up.”

  A strong arm yanked Clytemnestra up—and her neck was immediately grabbed and hoisted upwards.

  “How long has she been sick?” Alcyone’s twisted face was proof that she wasn’t playing around.

  Clytemnestra tried to respond verbally but her throat was currently being obstructed by the woman asking the questions. “Not long?”

  “Long enough that Pollux’s losing control of her form. You’re coming with me.”

  There were two doors off to the left. Alcyone opened the second to the left, shoving Clytemnestra into the room. Sterile, she noted, with a distinct scent. A sweet smelling gas started seeping in the room. Decontamination gas with a signature scent of rose petals and green apples. Most of the time, decontamination gas was unscented to prevent any allergic reactions…but Alcyone probably didn’t care about that considering past interactions.

  Once the decontamination finished, Clytemnestra stepped into the wider room. Helen was strapped to an operating table in another room and oscillating between screaming until her voice became hoarse and her body dissolving into ribbons of the same silvery-grey liquid. Some of it was sticking to the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and some of the surgical masks. One of the globules managed to inch its way past the protective gear of one of the surgeons, causing a convulsive fit in them. She watched all of this in horror as the surgeon spasmed against the glass window. Alcyone was seemingly unfazed, but her eyes twitching said otherwise.

  To her surprise, Amalia was sitting in the corner of the room wearing a surgical mask and gloves, her fear evident by her widened eyes and shrunken posture.

  “What are you doing to her!?” Clytemnestra sprinted towards Helen, only to be shoved aside by one of the attendants onto the floor. She leaned on the wall until she could stand. “What’s going on? Why is Amalia here?”

  “When one of you has been infected with the void, this happens.”

  “Is there a cure? Like the medicine you’ve been hoarding?”

  “We cull anyone who’s been infected,” Alcyone coldly stated. “We can’t kill your sister, so we need to approach it differently. The Servant is here for the purification process. We’re going to first inject liquid mercury into her lungs to stabilize her condition, and then drain her.”

  The glass window must’ve not been soundproof, because Amalia immediately looked at the two of them.

  “Liquid mercury in the concentrations she’s expecting will kill a human being. Directly into a vital organ would almost certainly expedite a person’s death.” Amalia stared at the window.

  Clytemnestra was in agreement with Amalia. “Wait—liquid mercury would kill Helen.”

  Alcyone stared blankly at her and Amalia like they lost their minds. “...she’s made of liquid mercury. It’s the same as a blood transfusion for a human.”

  As if to prove Alcyone’s point, Helen’s arms turned into liquid mercury, spraying it across the room. One of the surgeons plunged a heavy-duty syringe into Helen’s chest and squeezed on the plunger while the black blobs started to eat away at the glass window. Alcyone took out a small jade green aerosol can and sprayed it, causing the blobs to…shriek in pain.

  Clytemnestra barely had any time to comprehend this as Helen’s twintails became longer in length and crashed into the white walls before slowly rescinding. To Clytemnestra’s delight, colour was returning to her previously colourless body.

  Hmmm…while this was all happening, she might as well try to be an escape artist today. Clytemnestra morphed her ten fingers into various shapes and started working on it.

  “The void matter inside of Pollux should have been rendered inert by the procedure. Bring them closer.”

  Clytemnestra was prodded along and made to sit on a pink chair. She continued to work on freeing herself. Helen’s chest cavity was mixed between her normal skin tone and liquid mercury. She watched as the surgeons removed her lungs, half infested by the black solid matter. It looked like the mercury was…attacking it?

  “Virgo.” Alcyone commanded. “Purify her.”

  Amalia visibly shrank. “Ummm…I don’t think that I should try anything. I’m not a surgeon. Anything could go wrong. Helen’s condition could be aggravated by my intervention, we don’t know the exact properties of what’s infecting her—”

  “Stop talking and purify her. The longer she remains like this, the more likely it will kill us all.” Alcyone’s voice shook Amalia out of her ramblings.

  Clytemnestra had an idea. “Wouldn’t it be like what you did at the Coliseum? It’s the same principles of restoring something to its original condition, only it’s my sister. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” It felt natural to call Helen her sister.

  The veiled girl took a deep breath and summoned a small vine. The vine slithered in a controlled manner to Helen’s rapidly expanding and contracting lungs and made contact on the left lung. A sepia pulse emanated from the vine, spreading over the rest of the lung. Amalia gasped as her vine met resistance along the lung, with the black matter pushing against it. Clytemnestra managed to free her left hand. Now all that was left was her right hand—

  …Clytemnestra?

  Dana! Where are you? They didn’t prepare this room ahead of time, did they?

  I can see this room filled with horned people…and they have Chiara tied up and unconscious. One of them is talking about a contamination hazard and that they needed the Virgo to help with it…is that where you are?

  Yes. Do you see a redheaded Irish woman with white horns?

  They were talking about how one of the Pleiades is taking control of the situation in the room next to this one and that they need to make sure the Leo doesn’t escape.

  Wait above the room, and wait for me to tell you when to drop in.

  Eventually, Amalia pushed out a substantial amount of the black matter. Some particles were still inside of Helen judging from the dark specks in her body, but none in her lungs. Amalia tilted back and forth, until she crashed onto the floor unconscious.

  “Amalia!” Clytemnestra shouted before being made to forcefully sit down.

  Least thankful Irish people she’d ever met, and that included the Limerick girl who openly challenged her to a fight at a local pub.

  A soft moaning sound came from Helen’s mouth. Her fingers started to wiggle and Helen’s yellow eyes returned to normal. She slowly got up—and spotted Clytemnestra. Helen’s beaming smile was infectious and Clytemnestra returned it.

  I feel better. Spica…Spica’s unconscious isn’t she?

  It took a minute for Clytemnestra to remember that she called Amalia by that name back in that room. Yes she is. Dana and Augustus are in another room. Likely another room considering Augustus’ size. There is one exit into a decontamination space. Chiara is being held prisoner in another room.

  Helen stared blankly with half-drained eyes. …please get me out of here.

  Dana. Clytemnestra reached out. Let’s go.

  Ready—and make sure Amalia is safe, okay? I’ll deal with those assholes holding Chiara.

  Clytemnestra picked up the unmistakable CRASH of a ceiling and Augustus’ signature roar emanating from the room. She finally unlocked the restraint on her right hand—and tested to see if the windows were soundproof.

  They were decidedly not.

  Alcyone was quickly surprised by Clytemnestra flinging every single surgical instrument at her, but managed to duck the majority of them. A lucky few dug into her arm, but she remained standing. Clytemnestra rushed at Alcyone and used her fingers to open the locked door on the other side. Lockpicking was a useful skill to dedicate six weeks of her life to. Take that James! The door was promptly kicked in by Chiara and a snarling Augustus.

  “You’re completely surrounded, there’s nowhere to run.” Chiara aimed her sword at Alcyone. “Surrender now, and I’ll promise to treat you fairly.” Her love of theatricality had completely infected her psyche, Clytemnestra ruefully reflected.

  Alcyone hesitantly raised her right hand—before her left hand reached and grabbed her whip at record speed. Clytemnestra screamed at the whip, breaking the window glass more and a massive dent in the floor. Two of the orderlies tried to grab them but Augustus tackled one to the ground, earning the unfortunate orderly a roar in his face while the other was encased in a protective shield. Amalia waved weakly from the other room.

  “It’s over Alcyone.” Clytemnestra retrieved some zip ties and restrained Alcyone with it. “You should let us leave. For your sake—”

  “And for Róisín’s sake.” Helen was leaning against one of the open doors, her colouring shifting from silvery-grey to Clytemnestra’s skin tone. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice who exactly required numerous iodine medications for her thyroid gland?”

  Alcyone’s face blanched.

  “Oh, and I want my pen back.” Helen wiggled her fingers. “I could recall it…but I don’t think you want this building more damaged than it already is. And considering the harm you inflicted on my sister, I can take the whole company as payment.” She winked. “What do you say?”

  Dana was frowning at Helen from the door frame. Sometimes, I question why Chiara wanted to travel with these people.

  Alcyone was brimming with rage. “After what you’ve done, you think you deserve payment!? Do you need a reminder about what we’ve lost!?”

  Helen stopped smiling. “I don’t need one.”

  Whatever Alcyone said calmed Helen down significantly. Clytemnestra wanted to ask what happened between them, but Helen kept brushing her off.

  Alcyone had given them permission to leave the building. She also had supplied them with Helen’s pen, a longer list of auctioneers, and five thousand euros. Clytemnestra swore her eyeball was going to burst out of her eye socket when she wired Amalia all of the money.

  “So let me get this straight: How did this all start?” Dana asked. Augustus also chomped down his third large chicken and flicked a bone in the direction of Clytemnestra and Helen in the middle of eating. Everyone was forever grateful for Chiara convincing the lion to not eat the “beefy” staff members.

  Both of them weaved a beautiful story, with Clytemnestra filling in the gaps where Helen was completely unconscious.

  “Is the reason why your lungs are important the same way as Frau Agosti’s heart is also important?” Amalia interjected while leaning on her shield. Purification took a lot of energy out of the young woman.

  “Well, yes and no. It’s special, but I can’t stick my pen inside my lungs, nor can Castor stick her book inside her lungs,” Helen answered.

  “So what I’m understanding about this…is that it’s your fault this happened.” Dana sighed. “Do you ever listen to anyone?”

  Helen’s gaze drifted from Clytemnestra to Amalia’s shield before settling down into an easy grin. “Not particularly.”

  The next item on the agenda was to decide on a destination. Clytemnestra decided to let them talk amongst each other, while she took a detour. Spying a small knife, she snatched it—before nicking her finger on the blade.

  Red blood. Not silvery-grey.

  Clytemnestra decided to rejoin the conversation just as they made a final decision.

  “Let’s go to England! It’s home to one of the most prestigious royal families, it’s nearby, and it’s on the auction list.” Chiara put her hand over her heart. “It’s two mice with one stone!”

  “Two birds with one stone,” Dana corrected.

  “Maybe not.” Imagine if her workplace found out she was in town…she could picture the look on her boss’ face when she found out Clytemnestra was in London… “We should ask the computer.”

  Dana hefted up the laptop and typed in Clytemnestra’s question. “It says it prefers England for our next destination. Also, it wants Clytemnestra and Amalia to apologise for invading its privacy.”

  Once Clytemnestra translated what the laptop said, Amalia deeply apologised for the intrusion. The laptop accepted her apology—and did not accept Clytemnestra’s statement. Why would she apologise to a computer for wanting to know who was behind the screen?

  “It’s obvious then. We must go to England! The computer wills it!” Chiara was set on England…for no reason.

  “Why don’t we explore other options?” Amalia chimed in Italian. “What about Poland? I think we should be further away from Ireland considering our recent interactions with its residents. The auctioneer from Poland also has among her collection several items listed under an unknown category. That could mean that the twins’ Key is among them. It’s a probable lead, since the English auctioneer only has an antique teacup set listed on here.”

  After thirty minutes of discussion, Chiara and Augustus were persuaded on the merits of Poland. Dana managed to legally charter a fishing boat for their use out of the port of Dublin and Clytemnestra and Helen were left to their own devices.

  “Are you—?”

  “Fine? Yes.” Helen popped a lemon tart in her mouth while her pointer finger involuntarily moved. “Never been better. My arms feel sore, but as long as none of the void matter is in my lungs, I should be fine.” That was a lie. Clytemnestra could tell it in the way her hands still shook and her eye involuntarily twitched.

  “Yeah, especially with that expert exfiltration.” Clytemnestra grinned.

  Exfiltration…?

  Dana was peeking out of the hatch. Clytemnestra waved, but Dana only slinked down into the hold. She’ll warm up eventually, Clytemnestra concluded.

  The Aquarius though…Helen warned her that she could pry open any digital archive.

  She hoped that they wouldn’t use those skills against her in the future.

  For now, Clytemnestra could only look at the sun rising in the distance, and her twin beside her whole and healthy…for now.

  Castor, did I ever tell you about what happened when the Sage fell to Earth? So what happened was that the…

  She knew it was a lie, but she didn’t care, as long as Helen was alright. Clytemnestra smiled wearily and listened to Helen’s stories as they sailed out of the harbour…past the Emerald Isle…past the British Isles…past any reminders of her past identities.