Chapter 148: Next Step
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Sekhmet reached the Dawn House gate with the same calm face he used in the market, in the alley, in every place where showing weakness invited teeth. The streetlamps behind him threw long shadows across the stone path, and the iron bars of the gate looked almost gentle from a distance.
Up close, the gate was still a warning.
Sekhmet lifted a hand and knocked, once, controlled.
A guard inside opened the small viewing slit, then froze when he recognized the silhouette.
"Young master," the guard said quickly, voice turning respectful in a heartbeat.
The gate began to open. The hinges groaned, old metal complaining about being asked to move in a world that never rested.
Sekhmet stepped in.
The courtyard greeted him with the familiar smell of trimmed plants, damp stone, and old money trying to pretend it was not stressed. Lanterns glowed warm along the walkway. A servant in the far corner paused mid sweep and bowed so hard it looked like his spine might crack in protest.
Sekhmet did not slow. He walked as if nothing had happened.
But his coat was torn at the shoulder. The fabric along his ribs had been ripped open twice. His shirt beneath carried stains that the night tried to hide, but lantern light did not lie. The blood had dried in places, turning dark and sticky. It did not look like a noble drama. It looked like business.
The poison still crawled inside him.
It was not the violent burn of the first needle anymore. That had been drowned in warm blood and brute will. Now it was a quieter thing, like a thin wire wrapped around his organs. It tugged when he moved too quickly. It cooled his veins whenever his chaos energy dipped for a moment. It did not stop him yet.
Yet.
And that word, that single silent threat, sat in the back of his mind like a rat waiting to bite.
He crossed the main hall threshold.
The warmth of the house hit him at once. The air was cleaner here. The floor was polished. The curtains held the scent of lavender, because Elena had decided lavender was a weapon against stress and would wage war with it until the world surrendered.
Then something small and fast struck.
Bat Bat.
She came out of nowhere in human form, hair messy, wings half unfurled, eyes bright with the confidence of a creature who believed she owned the world and had paperwork to prove it.
She sprinted straight toward him and stopped one step away, staring up at his ripped clothing like it was a fascinating new art style.
"Master," Bat Bat said, voice full of accusation and excitement at the same time. "You go out. You come back not hungry. You cheat."
Sekhmet blinked once.
"I cheated," he repeated.
Bat Bat nodded as if he had confessed to a crime.
"Yes," she said. "You have secret fun. You leave Bat Bat with letters. You come back with blood. That is unfair fun."
Auri came next and listened to everything. Her expression did not change, but the corner of her mouth twitched slightly. She had learned that Bat Bat’s logic was not a straight line. It was more like a snake doing gymnastics.
Sekhmet looked down at Bat Bat, then looked at the blood on his sleeve.
"You consider this fun," he asked.
Bat Bat’s eyes widened with sincere admiration.
"Yes," she replied. "Blood is tasty. Also battle is cool. Also the Master looks scary. Bat Bat likes scary Master."
Sekhmet stared at her for a moment, then spoke in the same dry tone he used when negotiating prices.
"Scary master is expensive," he said.
Bat Bat gasped.
"How much," she demanded immediately, because Bat Bat did not understand many things, but she understood commerce.
Sekhmet’s voice stayed flat.
"One hundred pages of handwriting practice," he replied.
Bat Bat froze.
Her face turned pale in a dramatic way that would have impressed a theater troupe.
"No," she whispered.
Sekhmet stepped past her, moving deeper into the hall.
Bat Bat followed instantly, wings twitching, still offended.
"You are evil master," she muttered.
Sekhmet did not deny it.
Then Elena appeared.
She did not run. Elena never ran. Elena moved like a storm that had learned patience. Her steps were calm, but the air around her sharpened as soon as she saw Sekhmet’s clothes.
Her eyes landed on the ripped fabric. Her gaze moved to the dried blood. Her expression tightened like a drawn string.
"Young master," Elena said.
Her voice was polite.
That was the problem.
Elena’s polite voice was the one she used when she was about to do violence with words.
Sekhmet met her gaze steadily.
"Elena," he replied.
Elena stepped closer, eyes scanning him the way a medic scanned a battlefield survivor.
"Whose blood is that," she asked.
Bat Bat answered before Sekhmet could.
"Master bite people," Bat Bat announced proudly. "Master drink. Master, get strong."
Elena’s eyes snapped to Bat Bat. Something was better not knowing. So he doesn’t want to know, yet.
Bat Bat immediately stiffened.
Her wings slowly folded.
Her mouth closed.
Bat Bat had learned one important survival rule.
Elena could be scarier than Master.
Sekhmet spoke calmly.
"It is not mine," he said.
Elena did not relax.
"That is not what I asked," she replied.
Sekhmet exhaled slowly. He did not like lying to Elena. Elena was the kind of person whose disappointment could cut deeper than knives because it came from love disguised as duty. But telling the truth was worse.
He chose a careful slice of truth.
"Someone attacked me," Sekhmet said. "It is their blood."
Auri’s posture shifted slightly, as if confirming the statement without speaking. She did not add details. She did not need to. Her silence alone told Elena this was not a small matter.
Elena’s jaw tightened.
"In the city," she asked.
"Yes," Sekhmet replied.
"Elena," Bat Bat whispered, trying to be helpful. "Master did not die. Master is okay. You can stop being angry now."