James paced in the corner of his room. More like a prison cell, as there was no personal touch. No books on the bookshelves and no paintings hung on the walls. They would only remind him of home, anyway. Of the life he'd destroyed.

I had to, he reminded himself. Too many lies. But the more he tried to justify that night, the more he came up short. He'd tried justifying his actions to Hope many times. She'd never accepted.

"I did this for you. All of this, for you!" he'd cried.

"If you'd wanted to do anything for me, then you should have moved on. You should've left the past where it was, behind you".

Now she'd gone – vanished to the library and left him all alone. In this horrid, horrid room. His benefactor had chosen the house, not him. Never him. Until the order in the back of his mind – kill her, kill your sister – had deserted him, he was to remain here. Waiting for that Wolfie to do her job. Easier said than done. If only He would let him leave this house; he could've killed Alexa days ago. Right when she'd first awakened. Maybe He was still angry for the deception. For burying Alexa and hiding her body in that coffin instead of destroying her outright. James had tried to tell Him that in the end her death would be sweeter. More painful. But He never listened. Another minute went by and nothing changed. No news, no Hope. Not even a lowly Vaskel came. Until one of them did. He looked ruffled – his hair stood on end – and he was sporting a stab wound to the abdomen. Not that Vaskels had proper human organs. Just parodies of them. He didn't even know what he had. Was he just an empty shell? He had lungs certainly, but were they solid dust? Wax in his chest? He had a heart, but did he have a soul? Not anymore. The Vaskel stammered an apology about his sudden entrance. Blood seeped from his jacket.

"Who did this? What is going on?" James asked. He tested out his counterfeit soul, searching for any sign of sympathy. He found none.

"You assigned me to investigate the branch of The Empire in Toronto, my Lord," the Vaskel stammered.

"Yes. A few of your comrades from the higher Vaskelian Dynasties had gone missing. As had some in Shang Hai and Tokyo. As well as London". A pattern was building. Someone had been working their way through the pillars of his Empire. The last pillar being here in New York.

"I went to investigate who was currently in charge and... It was one of hers," he said and trembled. At that James's eyebrows flew up.

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Its lackeys – her lackeys – got me before I could leave. She's been planning this, hasn't she? Hasn't she? You should've killed her when you had the chance!" All at once, the Vaskel found the blood dripping from his wound intensifying.

"Sir," he croaked. James shoved his hand deeper in the gauge, putting pressure on his frozen stomach and spleen.

"Don't tell me what I should or shouldn't have done!"

You should have moved on. You should've left the past where it was, behind you.

"Sir please"— He let him drop and wiped his hands on the cloak. The fabric stained too easily.

"Let the job of bringing her in fall to East. You know how much he loves the hunt," he paused. "Tell Him – when He comes – that I have another engagement and that I'm still waiting on my sister's arrival". The Vaskel nodded, then limped out of the room. For a moment, James just stood there. Taking it all in. Wolfie. Wolfie was behind this. He could've kicked himself for not realising it sooner. Who else would have the gall to try and bring down his Empire? It seemed obvious now he knew. The Vaskel's mention of one of her creations almost made him want to vomit. More and more of those abominations, those rejects. He wondered which of the flock had been infecting Toronto. His mind transitioned back to the boy. To his mother. He was sorely tempted to speak to her again, to try and scratch information out of that clever brain of hers. In fact... He walked over the chest of drawers, pulled out a Wayward Crystal.

"Send someone up here with the keys to the Kingdom," he said. The name was meant for irony, though he doubted any of those filthy Vaskels could tolerate jokes. Even the boy's mother had understood. As he was just about to return to pacing, another Vaskel scuttled in. A set of keys jingled in his hand. Right on cue. James strode past him, snatching the metal from his hand.

"My Lord?" he called after him. James feigned deafness and carried on. Part of him secretly wished for Hope to appear. He could picture the look on her face even now.

You wanted to get to know him.

Maybe she'd been right about that. Maybe he had been a little curious. Now though, the boy didn't matter. No, the boy had never mattered. Like Alexa he wouldn't get the chance to come of out this alive. Or unscathed. James headed down the back steps and towards the cellar. The manor had been built in the prohibition era and there was a huge area that had been used solely for storing alcohol. Now it stored a different kind of poison. When he reached a small door, he slid one of the keys into a lock and turned. Blackness greeted him. The trickling of water. She'd short circuited the lights. A hard thing to do with her hands tied, he gave her that. Her intelligence definitely hadn't dulled, even after all these years.

"Come now, Miss Green," he soothed. "We both know that even if you escape, you can't guarantee your son's protection. I can". A bluff. It was a lie and unfortunately for him, she knew it too. Reaching slowly for the fuse box, he felt a rush of air surge next to him. He spun and he could sense Emma's hands and what felt like broken glass close around his throat.

"Now, is that anyway way to treat your host? We both know this needs to happen. It's been set in stone since day one. You can't change fate," he said. The glass bit deeper, but it didn't hurt.

"I could kill fate; how does that work for you?" Her grip hardened. Blood started to run down the cut on his throat, before the skin immediately knit back together. Emma's hands shook, so much that all he had to do was twitch and the glass smashed onto the stone floor. He edged them both over to the fuse box and placed his hand over the wires. Even though he could see reasonably well in the dark, he preferred living in the light. As the electricity particles moved toward the fuse from his hand, Emma tried to grab his throat again. Instead he ducked and slammed her back against the generator, hard enough that light suddenly flooded the room. The boy's mother's cheeks were streaked in dirt – and a little blood. That had been the Vaskels doing. Her green eyes were just like her son's.

"You can't stop this. I want my freedom," he snapped. "I need my freedom".

"What about Jake's freedom, my son's freedom? Did you ever think of that?"

"I own him. I own you"— Her hand connected with his face and he fell back. He nearly felt pain.

"We're not your property!" He shrugged.

"Yet you are under my control and under my roof. I don't understand," he continued after a moment's pause. "I've given you all the comforts". He gestured to the mattress on the floor and the untouched tray of baked goods from the minimart. Despite living through three-hundred years of history, he'd still missed a lot. All because of Him. But it was worth it. Hope was worth anything.

"You can't deny my charity Miss Green," he said. She clenched her fists and swore at him. For a single mother she had quite the mouth.

"I'll deny everything from you until you give me back my son". Dark Matter was beginning to itch up his arms. The Blott Rye had already burst its banks so there was nowhere for the power to go and he could only use it to summon the Chainlinks. It was trapped inside of him, until Alexa was dead.

"Don't make me do something I'll regret Emma," he snarled. The use of her name surprised both of them.

"Then do it". She squared her shoulders. Death, she wasn't afraid of. Life, even less so. Torture, pain, none of that would work. But he knew how to break her. He'd known her long enough. After all, he broke everything and everyone he touched, didn't he? What was one more?

"I thought I'd find you out here". He turned, half expecting to see Emma poised on the balcony with another shard of glass in her hand. The pain in her eyes as he— But it wasn't her. It was Hope.

"Yes, well, here I am," he said. Dark Matter tickled his finger nails.

"You went to see her again". He moved to contradict her, soon realising there was no point. She could sense his lies like her mind was a homing beacon for them.

"James, what did you do?" she asked.

"Something to ensure that she's no longer a distraction".

"You didn't kill her, did you?"

"Of course not! Besides," he added. "Why would you care if I did?" Hope scoffed and threw her arms up in the air.

"Well I guess I'm just a heartless as you are then," she snapped. James realised his mistake all too late.

"I didn't mean it like that".

"Sure, you didn't. I'm not your Queen of The Empire James. I'm who I always was: your Hope. Your friend. And at this rate, the only person who really knows you at all," she said. He couldn't really argue with that. With every visit from Him, he felt like he knew himself less and less. Every thrum in his mind that said, kill her, kill your sister, made him stop and wonder just how much of the real him there was left.

"You're right," he sighed. Hope feigned shock.

"I'm sorry. What was that?" He chuckled.

"I said 'you're right'. I won't say it again. It's rare enough as it is".

"Oh, you mean when you invited me out into the woods for a picnic because you said there wouldn't be a snowstorm? I said there would be and who was right?" she pressed.

"You," he relented.

"Exactly". They smiled and moved closer, but kept their hands out of touching distance.

"Hope," he began. "I am sorry it had to be this way". He knew it was the wrong thing to say even before it slipped out. Her face contorted and she backed up a few steps.

"It had to be this way? Nothing had to be any way, James. You could've left well enough alone and you didn't. You killed your family," she hissed.

"To save you!"

"I didn't need saving. You could've waited – you live forever for god's sake – and you could've found someone else to fill that hole deep down inside you," she roared. Dark Matter filtered slowly into his lungs and he struggled to force the words out. He could barely move his lips.

"I'd never been in love before. You were my everything"—

"And you were mine, but... You can't build a relationship like this. With all these lies. When Alexa is dead, we're going to have to start over. You're going to have to prove to me that you can be a better man..." she trailed off and bobbed her head in recognition of their visitor. Yet another Vaskel. He was sick, so sick of seeing them. So sick, so sick—

"Sir, apologies for the interruption but," its eyes flashed orange. "It's Wolfie".

"What in Halve's name has she done now?" he growled.

"Her job". The world stopped, realigning into something much brighter than before. 

He could finally kill Alexa.