Kaelen didn't wait for the Baron's answer. He drew his blade, the silver steel singing as it cleared the scabbard. "Someone's on the balcony."
The Baron fumbled with the vial, his toad mask tilting in confusion. "Impossible. The Ivory-Quartz would have alerted—"
The French doors didn't swing open. They simply ceased to be closed.
A gust of cold night air flooded the room, extinguishing the candles on the Baron's desk. In the sudden gloom, the only light came from the moon and the faint, toxic-violet glow of the Fox Mask standing in the doorway.
Kaelen's heart did a slow, painful somersault. He recognized that posture. He recognized the way the air seemed to "thin out" around the figure.
"You..." Kaelen's voice cracked, the memory of a sewer-boot in his mouth flashing across his mind so clearly the taste returned.
