I waited for some time at the cave entrance, meditating and restoring myself to top condition. Only after about an hour did I go back inside.

The stone chamber was silent as before, but there was a change in the air. The atmosphere had calmed, as if a great tension had dissipated.

I went to the center, covered the three bodies with white sheets, and carried them into the hidden room outside the tomb.

Once back inside, I looked around curiously, now without the corpse staring me down from the throne. And I had to admit, I faced a dilemma: I didn't know where to go first—the library or the laboratory. If I could, I would have split myself in half and seen both at once.

But finally, after great internal conflict, I decided to go to the laboratory.

The tables were cluttered with many ancient tools. Anything not made of alchemical materials had rusted and would break apart on contact, but some properly secured things were still usable. What I immediately noticed was that nothing there was labeled. Getting the lab equipment to a usable condition was going to be a nightmare, I realized after looking through many tools.

Walking along the tables, I also noticed something else: there was a spot where most of the soul-oriented tools were lying. They were thrown all over the table, accompanied by many empty soul crystals.

This must have been the place where Sally—now my familiar, as yet nameless—was created. When he said he didn't remember what creatures he used, he might have been lying, I realized. Looking at the overall chaos of the place, I was leaning more and more toward the idea that he wasn't sure what souls he used…

I groaned, thinking about the deal, but it was made—no use crying over spilled milk.

I was sure something had barked happily at me, but by now I was used to my new auditory hallucinations, so I ignored the sound. 'Any self-respecting dark mage should be hearing voices, of course,' I told myself, and went on with the tour.

Aside from several well-preserved alchemical ingredients of unknown origin, the net haul from the laboratory itself was pretty impressive.

One full container of powdered mandrake. An entire set of high-grade alchemical ingredients related to souls, including the heart of a fully grown banshee and a few that were considered extinct.

To my absolute delight, the ingredients were accompanied by hibernated seeds for them, which meant I would need to get an alchemical garden for my mansion. That was the kind of additional task I liked to have.

A set of tools for soul manipulation and for creating golems and undead, many of whose purposes I didn't even know.

Around a thousand obols stuffed in the corner of the lab.

And… something. In the corner stood what appeared to be an unfinished machine of some sort, the purpose of which I wasn't sure. It was reminiscent of mechanical models of a solar system one could see in historical movies, but it wasn't finished.

Once happy with my tour—and done cackling like a proper maniac—I set my sights on the library and dived into the ancient tomes.

And there was much to dive into.

Aside from a lot about the basics of magic and the previously mentioned history and poetry, there were the Butcher's journals and those of his family, as well as a few grimoires of soul spells and rituals, primarily focused on undead and golems. One, titled Art of True Death in the Arcane, looked to be a war manual for soul mages.

As I was going over the books, I stopped on one in particular. It looked to me like a part of Hygromanteia, also known as the Magical Treatise of Solomon. The strange thing was that it didn't look like a later forgery but the original, actually written by Solomon. It was just a fragment about astrology and the use of herbs. I went back to cackling like a maniac, poring over the ancient tome—so much so that I almost forgot about the one sealed by the Butcher.

With a titanic flex of will, I pulled myself away from the pages and went to unseal the one written by the man himself. Once I whispered the password, I could sense the seal give way.

I then slowly opened the book to the first page and started skimming through it. It was half grimoire and half research journal.

Noticing a drawing, I raised the open book in front of me and looked at the laboratory. It was undoubtedly the unfinished machine, but drawn in its completed form. I frowned and tried to read about what it was supposed to be, but it was like opening a story in the middle—I had no idea what the book was talking about, some of the nomenclature being completely foreign to me.

Sighing, I closed the tome to study it later and then looked over the whole place. The soul-numbing solution in the vat should also be usable, I realized, my thoughts going to Peter.

After taking one last glance, I went outside and started organizing transportation to move all of it to my storage, although the place would be barely walkable once that was done. There was a space-related spell over the entrance, but I didn't know what it was and didn't have time to check now.

I then called Cuddles and told him he could come and bury his ancestor in the tomb, as he wanted, but only at the entrance.

The cat came pretty quickly, and with the help of his last undead creature, he buried the bones. I could see the same greed flash across his eyes as he looked at the corridor leading inside, but if he'd had a chance before the fight with the mutant, now it would be suicide, and he knew that. His greed immediately disappeared the moment he met my eyes.

After a quick prayer to Anubis, he left the place.

I stayed around, deciding to spend the time on research before the cats arrived with transportation. But before diving into the tomes, I dug two graves and buried the Butcher and his wife in the forest behind the tomb, and then borrowed the pumpkin farmer's pigs to get rid of the guy who killed Camila.

Once done, I went back to the tomb to focus on the research.

Just like that, three days passed in a blur of old pages lit up by illumination magic.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Apparently, the transport took longer because the cats were dealing with a runaway wendigo near Hudson Bay. The entire organization was put on high alert after the initial case was presented as a skinwalker sighting. It still killed five people before being caught and returned to the reservation.

The delay didn't bother me at all—to be honest, the atmosphere of the tomb was charming, and the gloomy library provided a perfect place for research.

It was around noon on the third day when the cats finally arrived with a larger vegetable truck, apparently getting a deal with the farmer to pick some of his pumpkins as a cover.

I saw Q'Shar walk out of the white van, accompanied by Bakari, who immediately hid inside the cave before greeting me.

"How's your grave-robbing?" asked the cat.

"Great!"

He stopped, looking at me with clear suspicion. "Why are you so happy?"

I smiled at him even wider.

"I got a gift from the Butcher himself. Why wouldn't I be happy?"

"The Butcher himself?" The cat's tail froze in place. "He was alive?" He looked at me with clear suspicion.

"Well, that's a long story. He was, but also wasn't. Anyway, I got some books, ingredients, tools, a machine, journals, a dog, soul crystals, obols—"

"A fucking what?"

"A machine, but I'm not sure—"

"Not that, you idiot," hissed the cat. "You got a dog?"

"Yes."

Silence descended between us.

"For fuck's sake, can you be a massive cunt some other time and explain?"

"Sure. There was this corpse on the throne, and he was like, 'Ohhh, you want my stuff, get a dog.' And so I got a dog."

I could see the muscles flex as the tip of Q'Shar's tail started to twitch from side to side, accompanied by a murderous glare he was giving me.

"Okaaaay. And where is this dog now?"

"That's a secret. I'll show it to you when it becomes real."

"So it's not real?"

"No, it is—the dog just isn't YET."

"What? You know what—forget about it." The cat just sighed, seeing my smile widen more and more. "I forgot how annoying you can be."

"I'll tell you all the details when we have some time," I reassured him as we walked inside the cave and met the tiger.

"Bakari," I greeted.

"Sam," he nodded back.

We made our way through the tight corridor with me leading the way. As we walked in, I could feel the tiger's eyes staring holes into my back to the point it was becoming uncomfortable. Once we finally arrived in the cave before the tomb, I almost took off my robe to check for something strange. But, not sensing anything weird on me, I turned around, meeting the massive cat's eyes.

"What is it?"

"What is what?"

"You've been staring holes into me the whole way."

I could see the tiger grow slightly awkward.

"Well… I was wondering if you have it on you."

"Have what?" I asked, confused.

"You know… the Hook," he said, almost whispering the last part.

"Yes… I do," I answered awkwardly.

"Can I see it?"

I shrugged and pulled out the weapon. I could see the tiger go slightly tense, as if preparing for battle. The artifact gleamed with a metallic shine in the light of an illumination spell used by Q'Shar. It looked majestic, but that was it—a well-taken care of piece of metal covered with runes, currently lying dormant.

It took Bakari a few seconds to break the silence. "Is that it?" he asked, clearly confused.

"What else did you want? It's a hook."

"I don't know. I mean, it's THE Hook. I was expecting… more?"

"It can do some amazing stuff—pull someone's soul out, or tear it, or injure it. I'm pretty sure there's much more hidden. That's pretty impressive."

"I get that. But I don't know… it was the stuff of legend. My mother scared me with tales of the Butcher coming to take my soul. It's a bit underwhelming. Can't any soul mage rip out a soul?" he asked, unsure. "I mean, the sabbath is coming, and this investigation took a lot of resources for a vague search. I don't get it—why bother before the sabbath?"

I frowned, but then it came to me. Souls were a rare topic, considered by some a lost art in the modern age. Most just knew they had a spark, and that's all.

"You know about dealing with sacred beings, right?" I asked, to which the cat nodded. "Okay—how do you think you get a soul for it?"

"You kill someone and capture it?"

"No. You can't just brace with your leg and pull out a soul like you would a nail. You kill someone, the universe pulls back their spark. The spark lies deep in the center of the soul, so the soul leaves with it. What the sacred beings are interested in is that very center. They want all your experience—and the more important it is, the closer it lies to the spark. If you try to keep the soul in this world, it will usually tear, and the 'most appetizing' bits will leave. The ritual to pull out the soul of even a non-magical person and then separate it with minimal loss is extremely complicated and power-consuming."

"But didn't the warlocks sacrifice living beings in front of demons?"

"That's the other option. Instead of pulling and storing souls, you summon whatever it is you want to deal with and let it do the job. Sacred beings are much better at dealing with souls than we are, so you let it do the hard work. But it can't fight a spark either. It will either try to feed as much as possible before the soul leaves, or guide it outside our plane and try to do a better job there, or guide it to its god. Since the spark must leave this dimension anyway, that is usually the easier option."

"So why not just do that?"

"One: the being did the hard part for you, so you won't be getting a good deal. Two: there's no telling how much it can feed. And third: the spark is within the soul—if you try to do that to someone proficient with his spirit, there's a good chance they will fight back once in their astral form. Of course, you could try to break their spirit by torture, but once again, you can instead cause resentment. You kill them, they spiritualize on the spot and turn into a ghost obsessed with killing you. You're fucked either way."

Bakari started to look ahead, beginning to understand the idea.

"Let's say you want to sacrifice a family for a pile of cash. So you get the sacrifices, summon the demon, you kill them, and tell it to feed. The demon gets pissed because you summoned it and it's doing the hard work. It takes time between kills, so maintaining the ritual requires massive power. In the end, you killed the people, the demon leaves angry, and all you get for your effort is a set of counterfeit dollars that get you straight into federal jail the moment you use them. That's actually the source of most of the stories warning about dealing with demons. Amateurs without knowledge try it and get fucked over. Buuuuut…"

As I spoke, I changed my voice to a jovial tone and presented the Hook between both my hands.

"Use this bad boy—pull out complete souls for the bargain—and you'll get that crisp money straight from the press, nicely packaged and laundered just for you."

"Can you please stop presenting the Hook like it's an infomercial? You're making my skin crawl," Q'Shar whined.

"Party killer," I whispered. "Anyway, the Hook allows you to do just what I described. You actually can brace with your leg and pull out a soul like a nail. There are conditions, it still injures the soul and will destroy much of the mind, but it's fast and easy," I said with a smile, and then looked to my broker with raised eyebrows. "All you need is a list of targets whose souls are an offense to existence—and you're set. You could even let's say… build yourself a massive mansion for cheap."

The cat groaned. "I hope you can keep smiling like that," he said, looking at me seriously this time, "Bakari was right about the sabbath. A Vatican envoy was asking for a meeting just yesterday."

"Party killer," I sighed, letting the smile drop from my face.

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