The Soho acid rain stung his thighs and back. The stench of gutter water mixed with soot and cooling steam settled heavy in his throat. Gavin Calloway spat. Thick and crimson."Still breathing, you bastard?" Gavin muttered to himself.His ribs felt like they were about to puncture his lungs. Inside his chest, the Magic Core once worshipped by the Calloway Clan was reduced to nothing more than sharp shards that pierced his internal organs with every breath."I'm sorry, Gavin. Your clan is finished. Besides, Cassian is way more useful in bed than a crippled wizard like you."Arabella Vane's voice still echoed clearly in his ears. Complete with a spoiled, breathy sigh and Cassian Montgomery’s gleeful chuckle the exact moment that rune-engraved dagger was driven straight into Gavin's chest.Twenty-four hours ago, he was a noble. Now? Just scrap metal crawling over Soho's cobblestones, slick with cheap synthetic grease.Gavin groped the brick wall beside him. His hands trembled, torn and s

Behind the dust-coated glass window of No. 13 Blackfriars, Gavin Calloway stood buttoning his black vest."Your magic core is stable at five percent," Abraxas’s voice droned lazily from the chandelier. "But don't go celebrating just yet. At midnight tonight, this shop will collect 'rent' for your life. If you don't have a fresh transaction in stock, it'll start leeching your own blood.""I know," Gavin replied shortly.He stepped toward the mahogany desk. Atop it, the Soul-Ledger slid open quietly. The fine black rune lines on Gavin's right arm pulsed softly—the subtle residual effect of the Shadow Step Level 1 skill now bound to his bloodstream.The door hinges groaned softly. It wasn't a violent slam like Division 9 or Vespera the night before. This was a hesitant tap, followed by the quiet rustle of a small body slipping through the crack in the door.Gavin leaned his shoulder against the counter, his eyes narrowing.A young boy in threadbare clothes slipped inside. His leather jac

The rented heartbeat from the Soul-Ledger drummed with a quiet rhythm. The veins in Gavin's right arm were dense, thick with the residual absorption of Kargas’s necromancy from the night before."A noble," Abraxas called out lazily from the crystal chandelier. "The scent of white roses mixed with pureblood. But her chest carries a foul curse."Gavin didn't look up. "A Vane?""No. The aroma is far too clean for the Vane dogs."The silver bell chimed.A hooded figure in deep blue parted the mist at the doorway. Her gown was draped in a long cloak embroidered with silver thread. Wet mahogany leather boots stepped soundlessly across the wooden floor.Red text blazed in Gavin's vision:[Name: Tamsin Rhys ][Status: Noble of the Rhys Clan / Curse-Breaker ][Problem: Erotic Soul Curse ][Condition: Blistered Mana Pathways, Severe Lust-Fever ]The woman halted in front of the cash desk. Silk-gloved fingers gripped the edge of the mahogany wood. Her breaths came in short, shallow hitches, brin

A stack of empty crates bearing the trade logo of the East India Mana Company made both Gideon and Gavin halt in silence."Warehouse number seven," Pip whispered through a gap beneath the timber pile, his finger pointing to a fifty-meter corrugated iron building made of concrete straight ahead.Four double-wicked oil lanterns hung from the corners of the structure, swaying in the sea wind. Through the veil of moisture, two thick-skinned men holding enchanted rifles loaded with black-lead shot paced back and forth on the wooden gantry in front of the main iron doors."Ten inside, two out," Pip said. "The back door's secured with a Rank 3 Rune-Lock. Force it, and the alarm bells at the Montgomery estate in Mayfair will ring instantly."Gavin tilted his head. Invisible silver needles in his vision dissected the warding mesh weaving around the rear door. Silver veins from the Soul-Ledger pulsed faintly beneath his shirt, mapping the mana currents tied to the alarm."Gideon," Gavin murmure

The residue of Tamsin Rhys’s white rose oil still lingered on the edge of the counter. Gavin wiped the remaining gray fluid from the silver needle onto a dull cloth, then stacked fifty Sovereign gold coins stamped with the Division 9 seal onto the scratched mahogany surface.Gideon sat on a wooden bench near the weapon rack. His calloused hands dragged an oily rag along the blade of the Greatsword of Radiance. Old rust and dried blood from Pendelton’s soldiers slowly peeled away, revealing a cold, gray metallic sheen."Mayfair isn't Soho, Boss," Pip said, tossing a high-collared black wool suit onto the table. The fabric was fine, smelling of mothballs from an old tailor shop in the financial district. "The people over there can smell the mud of Blackfriars Lane from fifty meters away."Gavin pulled off his tattered coat and changed into the black wool suit. It fit his shoulders perfectly. The muscle-repairing effects of Kargas’s magic made the expensive cut of cloth drape seamlessly