KNOCK—KNOCK—KNOCK.
Three sharp raps struck the door, precise and merciless—like knuckles carved from bone.
Voss's voice slid through the wood, thin and needling.
"I can hear you in there, boy. The gauge doesn't lie. Pressure's spiking on your line. Open up, or I'll fetch the wardens."
Merlina's hazel eyes widened in the weak lamplight. She grabbed Zhang's sleeve, fingers trembling.
"Leo," she whispered urgently, "don't let him in too long. He always pokes where he shouldn't. Last time, he went through Mom's things."
Zhang's mind raced.
First real test.
Screw this up, and everything collapses.
He knew Voss from the novel: nuisance at best, snitch at worst. Leonard usually handled him with cold efficiency—few words, a handful of coins, door shut.
But Zhang wasn't Leonard.
Not fully.
"Stay in your room," Zhang murmured. "I'll handle it."
Merlina hesitated. "You still look… off."
"I'm fine."
The lie tasted bitter, but he forced a nod, drawing on Leonard's stoic shell.
She slipped away, silent as a shadow.
Zhang straightened the black suit jacket—rumpled now from stress—and opened the door a crack.
Voss loomed in the hallway.
Taller than expected. Gaunt. His frame hunched beneath a threadbare coat, skin stretched tight over sharp bones like old parchment. His eyes were milky, clouded—yet unsettlingly alert.
In his hand: a brass pressure gauge, runes etched into its face glowing faint blue. Tubes and valves dangled from it like exposed veins.
"Master Leonard," Voss drawled, mockery dripping from the title. "Finally awake. Been two days since I saw hide or hair of you. Thought the veil had claimed another."
Zhang kept his face blank. "What do you want, Voss?"
"The flow's disturbed." Voss lifted the gauge; the needle twitched wildly. "Spike right here. Your floor. Could be a burst pipe… or something bleeding through."
Bleeding through.
"Let me in," Voss continued. "Won't take but a minute."
No choice.
Zhang stepped aside. "Make it quick."
Voss shuffled in, bringing with him the smell of rust and damp earth. His gaze swept the apartment—kitchen, hallway—then lingered on the study door.
"Still hoarding your mother's scribbles," he rasped. "Dangerous things, journals. Words have weight. They pull."
Zhang shut the door behind him, pulse hammering. "Just check the pipes."
Voss chuckled. "Pipes it is."
He moved first toward the washroom, gauge held out like a divining rod. Zhang followed closely, angling his body to block the study wall.
The bloody message had faded—now only faint pink stains ghosted the plaster.
Please. Stay hidden.
In the washroom, Voss knelt, twisting valves.
SPUTTER—HISS.
"Brown again," he muttered. "Impurities."
He glanced up sharply. "You look different tonight, boy. Eyes sharper. Like you've seen beyond the veil yourself."
Zhang's stomach clenched.
Does he know?
"Bad dreams," Zhang said flatly.
"Dreams," Voss echoed, rising. "Your mother had those. Said the veil was thinning here. Old building. Built on a fracture. Water carries echoes."
He tapped the gauge. "This reads more than pressure. It reads bleed-through."
Echoes.
Zhang swallowed. "You mentioned strangers earlier. Coming through?"
Voss's eyes fixed on him. "Aye. Faces that fit. Steps that don't. Voices with the wrong echo." His head tilted. "Yours carries a new one tonight. Distant. Like from very far away."
Zhang forced a shrug. "Headache. From the odd job."
"Ah, yes. Guild errand." Voss drifted into the study room.
Zhang tensed—and followed.
The gauge swept the air. As it passed near the wall, the needle jerked, spinning full circle.
"Here," Voss murmured. "Strongest spike."
The stains darkened, glistening faintly—but Voss didn't comment. He knelt, pressing the gauge to a pipe.
"Burst seal," he said smoothly. "I'll tighten it. But mark me—impurities build. Your mother's bloodline attracts them."
Bloodline.
Zhang's fingers brushed the rabbit pin. Warm.
"What do you know about her bloodline?" he asked.
Voss straightened slowly. "Enough. She paid me to watch the flows. Warned me when cracks widened. Then she stepped through one herself."
His voice softened, almost regretful.
"Didn't come back."
A faint sound in the hallway.
Voss's head snapped up. "The girl?"
Zhang stepped forward. "Rats."
Too late.
Merlina emerged, basket clutched tightly. "Evening, Mr. Voss."
Voss's demeanor shifted—less predatory. "Little Merlina. Growing fast." His eyes lingered on her bracelet—the pink rabbit charm. "Charms stirring too, are they?"
"Just pretty," she said quickly.
"Keep them close," Voss murmured. "Veil's fraying. Dark Castle collectors sniffing around. Rent's overdue."
Zhang pressed a few coins into his palm. "For the fix."
Voss pocketed them, gaze lingering. "If the dreams worsen, come find me. Some echoes can be sealed."
The door closed behind him with a dull click.
Zhang exhaled shakily.
Merlina hugged him. "You did good. Better than usual."
Because I'm not him.
She frowned. "He talked about Mom again?"
"Yes."
She swallowed. "He says she stepped through instead of… dying."
Zhang guided her to the table. "Tell me what you remember. About the veil."
Merlina twisted her bracelet. "The world has layers. The veil's the stitch between them. This building—it's thin here. Mom was guarding a crack."
Her voice dropped. "She said something big was coming."
The pin burned hotter.
"She went to the basement," Merlina whispered. "Never came back."
Zhang opened the journal. Fresh ink glistened.
A sketch of the rabbit pin.
When it warms, the bloodline answers. But whose blood calls? Watch the gauge—it reads souls as well as flows.
Merlina gasped. "Leo… your pin."
Red light pulsed.
Thin crimson ribbons unspooled, coiling around Zhang's wrist.
A cup shattered.
Merlina stared. "That's Mom's light. Red divine threads. You haven't manifested since you were little!"
"I didn't mean to," Zhang whispered.
Night deepened.
Dripping echoed from the washroom.
Blood pooled in the sink—then vanished.
The mirror warped.
Leonard's face overlapped his own.
No escape.
Pipes groaned.
Merlina woke screaming. "Mom's calling. From the basement. The tear's open. Someone came through wrong."
Zhang grabbed the journal.
"We go down," he said.
The gas lamps flickered out as they descended.
The pipes hummed—alive.
Something below had already noticed them.