Yoko—Oh no?

I leaned back in the angular chair behind my desk—a thing that molded itself to my form with the eager compliance of wet clay. The days since our return had blurred together like watercolors in rain; I counted them only by the number of times I had surrendered to sleep in that peculiar, gelatinous bed. The way my body sank into its embrace reminded me, with uncomfortable clarity, of settling into a velvet-lined coffin.

The comparison was not entirely unwelcome. If vampires were creatures caught between life and death, perhaps such furnishings were merely honest about our nature. The banshees spoke of a "second death"—that final dissolution that could claim even the undead. I wondered if my current existence was merely a prolonged intermission between two more definitive states.

Had that first encounter with the ghosts in Seraphina's boutique truly constituted a case? The memory felt almost quaint now, a minor prelude to the symphony of failure that followed. I recalled the drowsy comfort of riding upon the serpent-woman's broad back, the rhythmic swaying that had lulled me into dreamless sleep, only to wake in the kitsune village surrounded by the keen wails of bereaved mothers—who they themselves were washed in blood, as the fey, much to my predictive imagination, had launched a terrible assault in our absence.

The residents' grief had pressed against us like smoke from a funeral pyre. Xiao Ru bore the worst of it—shoulders turned against her, voices falling to whispers when she passed. The Matriarch alone had shown us grace, her expression holding neither blame nor false comfort as she spoke of recovery for the survivors. "Some rescued life," she had said, "is preferable to none."

Yet the arithmetic of loss gnawed at me. So many small forms left in those pools of blood and veins… In my exhaustion, I had not pressed the serpent-women for details about where those veins led, how deeply they burrowed into the earth beyond the butte. Whatever we had allowed to escape into this endless world might even now be taking root in distant soil, but if the Makai is an infinity, it might yet not matter at all. Perhaps that was a terribly ignorant and selfish thought to bear.

The door's membrane shivered and parted, admitting Xiao Ru's familiar warmth. She entered with the determined cheer of someone practicing happiness, Ashley trailing behind her like a reluctant shadow made flesh.

"Mei-Ling!" Xiao Ru's voice carried the agleam brittleness of cracked porcelain as her tail wagged decidedly. "I thought we might pay you a visit."

The sound of Xiao Ru's voice cut through my brooding. I looked up to find her leaning across my desk, her smile bright enough to shame the phosphorescent glow of the city's trees. The sight of her chased away the lingering shadows of my melancholy—I had not seen her since our return, the village's mourning rituals having drawn lines I was not permitted to cross.

"Mei-Ling," she said, and there was something in the way she spoke my name that made it sound like a prayer answered. But then her expression shifted, foxxy eyes narrowing with concern. "Are you lonely, living like this? And when did you last eat properly?"

Before I could protest, she had leaned over the desk and was pressing her palm to my forehead, her touch warm against what must have been the marble coldness of my skin. The gesture was so tender…

"I managed to procure some blood pills," I said, gesturing vaguely toward the corner where I had placed the familiar lacquered box. "From one of those… dispensing mechanisms the Lady Seraphina had installed… Though I confess I simply reached through the barrier and took what I required."

The sound of Xiao Ru's palms striking my desk was sharp as a gunshot. Her tail, which had been swaying with gentle contentment, now bristled with indignation.

"That is not a meal!" she declared, her voice rising to a pitch I had never heard from her. "No wonder you appear so wan and weary!"

I let out a breath that might have been laughter had it contained any mirth, resting my cheek against my palm, especially considering the wanton nature of my skin was due to my vampireism. "You may have identified the source of my malaise," I admitted. How like her to worry over such things when she had her own grief to bear.

Behind us, Ashley's yawn echoed through the room. Without ceremony, she began her ascent up the musical stairs, each key producing a soft, melodic hum under her boots. Sleep, it seemed, called to her with more urgency than our conversation.

Xiao Ru's hands found mine across the desk, her fingers intertwining with my own as she leaned forward with renewed purpose. "You should apply for proper lodgings," she said, her voice dropping to something more intimate. "This office serves its function, but it is no place to truly live." She paused, and color bloomed across her cheeks like spilled wine. "Though… until such arrangements can be made, you could stay with me."

The offer hung between us like a bridge waiting to be crossed. I thought of how swiftly this office had materialized from the Nexus's bureaucratic ether, and wondered if Xiao Ru's invitation stemmed from practical concern or something more akin to loneliness.

"I would be honored," I said, and watched as her entire being seemed to illuminate from within.

The membrane at the entrance chose that moment to ripple and part, accompanied by the cheerful chime of the small bell I had installed. The serpent-woman from our recent adventure slithered through.

"Ah!" Xiao Ru's voice rang with delight, her tail giving a particularly enthusiastic swish. "This is Yoko—she was with us at the castle. I took the liberty of inviting her to assist with the office when you are absent."

"A secretary?" I mused, the word feeling oddly mundane in this world of impossibilities.

The serpent-woman—Yoko—coiled nervously upon herself, her scales catching the room’s dim light like scattered coins. She executed a bow that was both graceful and apologetic, her voice carrying the tremulous quality of one who expects rejection.

"It is an honor to meet you properly, detective," she said, her words tumbling over themselves in their haste. "I hope you will find my services acceptable. I have some small experience with correspondence and record-keeping, and I promise to maintain the utmost discretion regarding your affairs…"

Her nervous babble continued for several moments, each word wrapped in such earnest hope that I found myself oddly moved. Here was a creature who had faced down shadow-wraiths beside us, now reduced to anxious supplication over the prospect of filing papers. Or well, I hadn’t seen any papers in truth, but the general idea remained.

"I see no reason to object," I said, cutting through her litany of qualifications with what I hoped was reassuring brevity. "The position is yours, should you want it."

The transformation was immediate and complete. Yoko's entire form seemed to brighten, her nervous coils relaxing into something approaching confidence. A smile spread across her features—the first genuine expression of joy I had witnessed from her.

"You will not regret this decision," she declared, her voice now steady as stone. "I shall prove myself worthy of your trust."

And then— The membrane burst inward like a soap bubble meeting flame, and through it tumbled a creature that had clearly made intimate acquaintance with violence. The pixie—my former captive from the phantom's nest—collapsed upon the threshold, her form painted in arterial crimson. Where once delicate wings had carried her through shadowed corridors, now only ragged stumps remained, weeping fresh blood onto the grey tiles.

I tilted my head, studying this wreckage as Xiao Ru rushed to her aid. The small creature's sobs came in hitching gasps, her tiny frame shuddering with each breath. Water dripped from her hair and clothes, carrying with it the metallic tang of the Makai's peculiar precipitation.

Rain, I mused. Did the sky here weep the same clean water as my distant world, or did it shed something more sinister? The question flickered through my mind like a moth before the pixie's voice shattered my contemplation.

"D-d-detective!" she wailed, the title torn from her throat with such desperate need that something twisted uncomfortably in my chest.

Xiao Ru settled her onto one of the yielding chairs with the care one might show a broken bird. "I shall fetch water," she murmured, disappearing toward the back of the office.

I rose and perched myself upon the edge of my desk, close enough to study the damage without crowding her terror. "What happened?" My voice was flat. "Why are you covered in blood, Ms. Momo?"

Momo’s breathing gradually steadied into something resembling coherence. "My wings," she whispered, touching the mangled stumps with fingers that trembled like autumn leaves. "Something in the forest… it cut them off. It stole them…"

The irony was not lost on me—a thief become victim of theft. Yet the savage precision of the mutilation spoke to something far more disturbing than simple robbery. "Tell me about this creature," I said. "What did you see?"

"Metal tools," she gasped, her voice gaining strength as Xiao Ru returned with a glass of that peculiar, luminescent water. "It moved through shadows like they were doorways, striking from darkness. I fell into a ravine—felt the blades pierce my wings at their base." Her hands moved to demonstrate, and I saw how her fingers shook with remembered pain. "I had to choose… struggle free or let it take my skull. So I tore them loose myself."

From above came the soft shuffle of Ashley's feet as she abandoned all pretense of disinterest, peering through the geometric balusters.

Behind me, Yoko had produced some manner of translucent recording device, her stylus gliding across its surface. She had anticipated the need for documentation without instruction—a promising trait in a secretary, though I wondered what other initiatives she might take without consultation. I also wondered if I would be able to read anything she wrote.

The pixie's account painted a picture of methodical violence, surgical in its brutality. Perhaps the wings served as a trophy for a would-be killer.

I withdrew into the cool chambers of consideration, weighing the pixie's request against the practical demands of investigation. The scene she described warranted examination—evidence had a way of vanishing if left unattended, and whoever had committed this particular brutality might well return…

"Can you guide us to the location?" I asked.

The pixie nodded with the eager desperation of a drowning woman offered driftwood. "Yes, but…" Her voice faltered, and she motioned weakly at her mangled form. "I lack the strength to walk such distances. And I can no longer take to the air."

Xiao Ru's tail gave a thoughtful twitch as she surveyed our unlikely party. "You could ride with Yoko," she suggested, her tone gleaming with the sort of helpful enthusiasm that usually preceded complications.

Yoko's scales rippled in what might have been surprise or alarm, coiling slightly as she processed this unexpected development. After a moment's hesitation, she offered a smile that trembled at its edges but held genuine warmth.

"I would be… honored to assist," she said, though her voice carried uncertainty.

And so our small procession took shape—vampire detective, fox priestess, wounded pixie, and serpentine secretary, bound together by the strange mathematics of circumstance that seemed to govern all affairs in this twilight realm.

The membrane parted before us as we departed the office, Ashley's voice drifting down from above with studied disinterest: "Do try not to lose any more appendages while you're out."

The streets of the capital stretched before us, leading toward whatever shadows waited at the forest's edge.