The page was an interior one, part of the society column. It was a section of the paper that Mortimer normally skipped because on the few occasions that he had looked, it had seemed like a rather tawdry excuse for gossip.
Mortimer’s eyes scanned over the text pieces, trying to seek out whatever he was meant to see:
Socialite and adventurer Samantha Grace was spotted around town with her good friend Morgan Watts. Rumors about a potential romance appear to be nothing more than wishful thinking so all those suitors for Miss Grace’s hand should continue their efforts!
The mysterious Doc Daye will be hosting a charity ball this Saturday, with proceeds going to the Sovereign City Orphan’s Fund. Invitations have been hand delivered!
Mayor Rainsford Byles may have recently announced that he won’t be seeking another term next year but for now, he’s still our leader… so why is he spending so many weekends at his out-of-town vacation home? Insiders are wondering if he isn’t spending his nights on the couch, if you understand what we mean…
Mortimer paused. He had missed the announcement that Byles was going to be leaving office. Politicians had never been among his favorite people but he knew how important it was to have someone honest in a place like this. Sovereign had been damned from the beginning, with evil seeped into the soil like fertilizer. Having first arrived in the city not long after its founding, Mortimer knew that better than almost anyone. The city needed more than just a paper-pusher, it needed a crusader; someone who would be willing to go to the line against graft and corruption, both natural and supernatural.
He suddenly realized where his thoughts were going. Was he seriously entertaining the notion of running for public office? He was a virtual unknown in this community, with no prior experience. And yet, he would have the backing of Cedric, whose pockets were rather deep. He might also be able to call upon the support of people like the Emersons and, by extension, Kelly’s boyfriend Lazarus Gray. Those weren’t guaranteed, of course, but he bet that he could schmooze them properly.
Flush with excitement for the first time in ages, Mortimer sat down on his bed and grinned.
“Mayor Quinn,” he whispered. “I could get used to the sound of that.”
PANDORA PULLED ON the form-fitting garment, admiring the fabric and the way it allowed for complete ease of movement. It had been Locke’s idea to counter Gravedigger by outfitting herself in something similar. Thus, after arriving in Sovereign via train, which had proven slightly easier to manage than her planned route of flying, Pandora had broken into a Halloween costume shop. She had found a black bodysuit with a red panel that ran all the way down the center, giving her an almost mirrored appearance to how Gravedigger dressed. She was unable to find a full facemask but she had found a domino-style version that she had put into place with spirit gum.
With her sword around her waist, she really did look like some bizarre variation of her enemy. It seemed right somehow.
“How do you feel?” Locke asked, the phantom voice sounding so loud in Pandora’s head that it was like having someone shout in her ear.
“Can’t you tell?”
“Not really. I can’t feel anything. I can see out of your eyes but that’s all. I think I’ll go crazy if I stay like this for much longer. I need physical sensation: human contact, food, smells, something!”
Pandora reached up and tied back her hair, leaving it in a ponytail. “You’ll be fine. It’s amazing how much the human spirit can endure.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“No. I speak from experience. What do you think it was like for me in that Silver Skull? I was dimly aware of the world around me but I was even worse off because I couldn’t see. I was locked away from everything for so very long with nothing but my memory and my guilt to keep me company.”
“I’m sorry,” Locke said and Pandora sensed that she meant it. They were united by the similarity of their experiences. After a slight pause, Locke asked, “Do you think there’s any chance that you would give me back my body at some point? Or at least let me take control? Just for a little while?”
Pandora’s response was quite calm and very cold. “No.”
“But why not?” Locke, in contrast, sounded strained and desperate. “I’m helping you! I told you how to use my information to buy a train ticket! I helped you find this outfit…”
“I’m grateful. But this is my body now and you have to accept that. Embrace your new role and I will try to accommodate you as much as possible but I can’t risk you doing something stupid while in possession of our form. I have a mission.”
“You’re insane,” Locke hissed. “You can’t destroy Sin! It’s in every man, woman and child! There’s no such thing as real innocence.”
“I don’t blame you for thinking that. You were born and raised in a world tainted by the demons I unleashed. It wasn’t always so. Before I gave in to curiosity, the men and women of earth were better. They were not always without fault but when they made a mistake, it was out of ignorance or poor judgment. Now… now the demons take root in your souls and twist your view of everything to their whims. It is because of them and, ultimately, me that you seek to drown your fears and sorrows through power over others or through the consumption of physical goods.”
“You’re going to get us both killed.”
Pandora smiled ruefully. “Sometimes I think oblivion would be a blessing. There were times over the centuries when I contemplated suicide but in the end, I wanted redemption. I wanted to strike down all the evil in the world and then stand for judgment.”
“That’s how Hiroshi described The Gravedigger,” Locke pointed out. “She’s been given a certain timeframe in which to fight evil. If she fails, she’s punished by being sent to Hell or something.”
“And if she succeeds?”
“Then she’s freed and her soul is redeemed.”
“Then I envy her.” Pandora placed a hand atop her sword. “And just this once, I’ll let jealousy have free reign over me. Because I need to hate her so that I might find the strength to kill her.”
Chapter XII: The End of Everything
It was late in the evening when Charity gathered the entire team in the study. She and Mitchell had pulled all the furniture back, leaving the center carpet free. Using salt, they had drawn a pentagram, along with several protective wards.
“Are we doing a séance?” Cedric asked. Clad in a suit and tie, he looked almost out of place at the mystic ritual. Li, in her Oriental dress, seemed exotic enough to fit in. Mitchell and Mortimer both radiated enough familiarity with the occult that it didn’t matter how they looked: they were obviously at home with the ritual.
Charity, with her mask and hood pulled back, approached the center of the pentagram with spell book in hand. She stood over two weapons that lay on the floor; a short sword with many nicks in the blade and a small knife, both of which looked quite old. “Not quite, Cedric. I’m going to perform a small ritual that should allow us to figure out where Pandora is hiding.”
“Are you going to get a vision or something?”
“I’m not really sure.”
Cedric glanced over at Li and whispered, “Seems like the kind of thing I’d want to know before I started spouting magic-speak.”