Zenobia finally gave up on sleep around midnight. She got out of bed and padded back into Evin's study. She curled into his chair and continued to read the Lord Provost's journals, skimming quickly until an old friend's name jumped out at her.

The Shang Unicorn came to see me today. She's been on the hunt for the slasher for awhile. Apparently, the fourth woman he raped was a friend of hers. Her anger makes her dangerous. She had good information though. She's tracked down a few women who haven't come forward, and I've added them to my list. She's a hunter, and he's her prey. She'll kill him if she finds him. I just hope no one innocent gets in her way.

Zenobia reached for the list and found the fourth woman on the list. Anabell Serenia, caught along the river. As she read the name, she felt the familiar tug of her Sight. She flipped back to his journal for the week she was raped, but found nothing. He hadn't been tracking the slasher yet.

What could possibly be important about this woman? Did he know her? Did she see him? She wracked her mind, as her Sight continued to bother her, but couldn't remember anyone mentioning that name, or any Serenias who lived in the Lower City. She didn't remember the Shang Unicorn mentioning her or the slasher. Did she kill the original slasher? Was this a copycat? But he fit the pattern; they'd both started by the river and branched when patrols started up there. It had to be the same guy. But why would he have stopped and then started again two decades later?

She shook her head, trying to clear her Sight's annoying tugging from her mind and focusing again on the journals. She read through to the slasher's disappearance, and the Lord Provost's anger was palpable. He'd become obsessed by the end. His journal, which had early on detailed all sorts of different crimes, contained only information and speculation on the slasher in the last month that he was in Corus. Seven months after the first attack he wrote:

A month without the slasher taking another victim. The Shang Unicorn insists that she had nothing to do with his death, and I'm inclined to believe her. Perhaps he went after the wrong woman. The women of Corus are safe again, but I still wish I'd been able to get my hands on him.

Zenobia skimmed a few days ahead, but saw no more information on the slasher in her journal. Sighing, she put it aside, reading over the list carefully. With a jolt she realized she knew a number of these women. It had never occurred to her to consider those faded scars on their faces in conjunction. He wasn't exact in his markings. The length, depth and exact placement changed. But he always marked their faces.

Her Sight crept in again, drawing her eye back to Anabell Serenia. She sighed. Perhaps it was time to bring her Sight in to this some more. She crept out the door, careful not to wake Eliza. She walked quickly across the castle grounds and opened the big doors to Baylor's Needle. She walked quickly up the stairs and at the top the breeze hit her, and she breathed it in. It felt like home up here with the breeze. It wasn't bringing her anything, so she searched out again, and once again found that indefinable something at made her hair stand on end. Was that the slasher? Would she feel him like that? She could always sense troublemakers if she tried hard enough, but this was different. She tried using Numair's techniques, turning the wind back to find more, but she was unable to find whatever it was that she was sensing. The wind seemed unable to reach wherever it was, or whatever it was.

She felt her frustration grow. What was going on? What wasn't she Seeing? Who was Anabell Serenia? Who was the slasher?

She forced the unhelpful thoughts out of her head and sat on the balcony. The breezed bumped against her, and she laughed a little when she thought it felt apologetic.

"It's okay, old friend," she whispered. "We can't do everything."

She made her way back to her rooms, climbing in to her empty bed. She tossed and turned for awhile before falling in to a fitful sleep.

"Mama!" Zenobia sat up with a start, the cry lingering in her ears. A clinging feeling of fear and powerlessness wrapped around her, images of dark streets and strong hands wrapped around her wrists invaded her thoughts, making reality and her dream world seem indistinguishable.

"Mama!" The second cry woke Zenobia fully, and she got up and quickly moved to Eliza as soon as she realized the cry wasn't in her own mind.

"Eliza, Eliza," she crooned, picking the little girl up.

Eliza woke and wrapped her arms around Zenobia's neck, crying in to her shoulder.

"It's okay, sweet. It's okay." Zenobia carried her back to her room. She curled the up in the bed with her, rubbing her back until she fell back to sleep. Zenobia followed her quickly, sleeping more peacefully than she had before.

She woke shortly before dawn again, leaving Eliza slumbering and making her way out to practice weapons with the other women. She collected Eliza before her bath, and once they were cleaned and clothed, she made her way to the station. She oversaw training of the recruits, had lunch with the sergeants, keeping quiet and listened as they traded information, then went up to her study and began sticking pegs into the map, tracing old and new victims. She figured out three places he'd favored before and hadn't hit yet, and had guards sent to patrol those areas particularly.

In the late afternoon, she interviewed healers until she found two she thought would do well to supplement the healers they had focused on the guard. As the day guard came in, she talked to all of them, listening carefully and mentally cataloging the news they brought.

She called Eliza in and they rode back to the castle together. After dinner, Eliza and Daine and Numair's daughter made friends, while Zenobia wrote up a report for the King. Once she'd finished, she went outside to find Eliza. She and Sarra were happily playing with Tahoe, Onua's large hound. Zenobia smiled as Tahoe licked Eliza's face enthusiastically, making the little girl giggle.

"Thank you," she said to Daine.

Daine waived her off. "Don't be silly. Eliza's a sweet girl, and it's nice for Sarra to have someone close to her age to play with. Neither Numair nor I had many friends when we were children. It's nice to know that won't have to be true for Sarra."

Zenobia sighed. "I need to get that orphanage set up. The other street kids deserve to have a warm place to sleep and get food without feeling locked up. They deserve baths and get licked in the face by large dogs."

Daine squeezed her arm. "They do, but you can't do everything, Z. Just take it one step at a time. And if you want to leave her with us for the day sometimes, feel free. I meant what I said about Sarra having friends to play with."

"Thank you. I may take you up that while Evin is gone."

"Any word on her Aunt?"

"I honestly don't know. Evin said he would send word out, but I have no idea if he actually got to it before he left. We've hardly been able to talk since I started this."

"It's hard sometimes, running all over the place. Not seeing each other for days and hardly having energy to do more than crawl in to bed, let alone talk to each other. It'll get better. As you settle in, you'll have less work, and you'll learn that there is always a catastrophe, but that doesn't mean you have to feel guilty for taking some time to talk to your husband," Daine said kindly.

Zenobia smiled. "Alright Eliza. Time for bed."

Once Zenobia had Eliza tucked in, she pulled out a journal and began writing down everything she'd heard from her the guardsman, as well as beginning a summary of what she'd been working on with the slasher. Once she began reading the Provost's journals, she realized how useful it would be to track information as it came it, since she'd never know what would be important later. Once she finished, she got back in bed. She slept fitfully, old dreams of killing the guard entertwined with knew ones of a cloaked man with a knife awaiting her in alleys. Eliza climbed into bed with her a few bells before dawn, easing Zenobia's dreams some.

She woke up at dawn and went through the same routine of gathering information and taking care of administrative duties. Yet another woman had been attacked. Zenobia chewed out the two guards that had been supposed to be guarding the area before putting them on scut duty for the rest of their lives when she found out they'd been too busy taking a three-bell long dinner to cover the area. Once she was finished, she walked out to the area, the wind hitting her was tainted and sour, but she couldn't trace the source. It clung to her, that sour scent. It wasn't until she was home tickling Eliza into submission and forcing her giggling into the baths that she was able to shake the clinging sense of evil.

She and Eliza fell into a pattern together. Zenobia worked constantly, tracking down old victims and trying to think ahead of the slasher. No matter how well she placed her men, they were never able to track him. He was always one step ahead. He seemed to know where her people were placed and found small back alleys or little known clearings to grab his victims. Many were places that she'd hidden as a child, places where she would wait for the wind to tell her a fat purse was on the way and no guards were about. She shuddered to think that her safe spaces were no longer safe.

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I know. I'm terrible. I have three more weeks of finals, and then my updating should pick up quickly. I have this whole story plotted out, I just have to, you know, write it. This chapter is kind of a filler piece because it was something I could write quickly. Future chapters will be much meatier. We have one or two more of moderate action, and then stuff starts getting pretty exciting pretty fast, so hang in there. And, as always, REVIEW!