The night deepened, the tavern's rowdy heart beating on as Adrian and Greaves waited out Liora's final set. Her voice wove through the air again, softer this time, drawing the room's attention like moths to a candle. But Adrian barely heard the words — his mind was fixed on the whisper she'd left him with.
When the applause came, it was shorter, less frenzied. The crowd was thinning, sailors stumbling out into the damp streets. Liora descended from the small stage, her gown now shadowed in the dim light. She moved toward the back, glancing once at Adrian — an unspoken signal.
Greaves started to rise, but Adrian stopped him with a hand on the arm. "Stay," he murmured. "If I'm not back in twenty, come looking."
The hallway behind the tavern smelled of old wood and perfume gone stale. At the end was a door with peeling green paint. Liora stood there, one hand on the knob, the other holding a small brass lantern.
"Come in," she said.
The room inside was barely larger than a closet — walls lined with cracked mirrors, a vanity cluttered with powders, jewels, and scraps of paper. Liora set the lantern down and shut the door, the lock clicking softly.
"Coin first," she said, holding out her hand.
Adrian placed a pouch in her palm. She weighed it, then tucked it into a drawer without counting.
"Now," she continued, lowering her voice, "you're not the first to come to me about the Widow. But you might be the first who isn't already a corpse by morning."
"Encouraging," Adrian said dryly.
"She walks where the fog touches — always near water, always after midnight. They say she wears white, but I've only ever seen the glint of her eyes through the mist. And those eyes…" Liora shivered slightly. "They're not human, detective."
Adrian leaned against the vanity. "If she's not human, what is she?"
"A bargain," Liora said simply. "She offers something you want most in the world. You take it, and she takes you. It's never quick."
He frowned. "You've spoken to her."
Liora met his gaze without blinking. "Once. She asked me what I'd give to be remembered forever. I told her I wasn't that desperate. That's when she smiled and said, Not yet."
The lantern's flame sputtered, shadows stretching long across the mirrors.
"You're going to find her," Liora said, voice almost a whisper. "But she'll find you first. When she does, remember this — never answer her question. Walk away, no matter how sweet it sounds."
Adrian straightened. "What question?"
But Liora only shook her head. "You'll know when you hear it."
A sudden knock on the door made them both jump. Greaves' voice came through, low and tense: "Adrian. You need to see this. Now."
Adrian opened the door — and the smell of salt and cold rushed in. Fog was spilling through the open tavern doorway, thick and unnatural.
Somewhere inside it, a woman's voice was humming.