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“How is your plan going, by the way?” Geoffrey asked.

‘Well, Prince Gabriel has been cooperative, though he doesn’t know the full extent of our plans, of course. The King, though, has been resistant. To his credit, he didn’t concede any ground until Desmond ripped his arm off.’

“Ooh! Can I have the arm?!”

‘Um. I’m not sure what we did with it. Sorry.’

“Aww.”

‘If you’d stayed, you could’ve torn it off yourself.’

“There is no need to rub it in.”

‘I’m pretty sure we’ll have to kill the King sooner or later. You can still come back and be a part of that, you know.’

“Hmm. Let us find Mr. Colt quickly, then.”

They visited the diner first but found no useful information. Geoffrey immediately wanted to kill the last person they talked to out of sheer disappointment, but Moss hoisted him over his shoulder and left the diner.

It would be some hours before they finally found a candidate. The elderly receptionist of a ratty motel paused to think a moment when Geoffrey asked about a man with two babies.

“Hmm.” The man smirked. “Perhaps if I had something to refresh my memory...” He tapped the wooden counter in front of him.

“That will not be necessary.” Geoffrey looked at Ozmere, who nodded. He grinned as the red shade poured forth.

The man’s scream died in his mouth, and his eyes hollowed out into flaming shadows.

Geoffrey could see the memories. An entire life--dimensioned and complicated, sad and happy, regretful and grateful.

It bored him.

He searched for the face he wanted to see, as simple as if the memories had been his own. “Ah!” said Geoffrey. “Hello, Mr. Colt.”

‘Do you know where he went?’

“I know who to ask next.”

‘Lead on, then.’

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Hector made it to the end of the school day. He was anxious about carpentry club, as he figured it to be the only other place where his absence might have been noticed.