I'm riding this motivation train until it runs out of steam, no matter how much I need to fight autocorrect to do it. Who knows how long I'll be able to keep this streak up.

Also, quick shout-out to L. J. Heywood for the support and constructive commentary. Your remark on my latest one-shot actually sparked my motivation to finish this chapter: you mentioned wanting to see Unbound Pinhead and Kirsty in action, and that was actually the idea behind this fic! Not as much in this chapter, but rest assured that it's coming. ;D

Be kind and stay spooky, everyone.

-Inky


"Kirsty Summerskill, you are a wonder woman."

Kirsty smiled; she'd talked the guard into letting them in a full half-hour early, only slightly relying on her pink-lipped grin and the flutter of her dark lashes. Joey had taught her the tenets of being persuasive, but Kirsty was a natural and surpassed her adopted sister effortlessly.

Now she and Joey were walking to the artist's main office, through the back; outside the two could hear the clamor and chatter of art enthusiasts at the museum's entrance.

"So run by me one more time what this guy's famous for?" Kirsty asked, looking around. It was all architecture, but something about it sat uneasy with her. Something about the gilded gold, silver, and black; something in her stirred from the dark corner where it'd slept tucked away. Get out, the restless impulse whispered in her ear, get away!

"It's modern buildings, mostly," Joey said, looking around herself, "but apparently he comes from this long line of creative types." She seemed more relaxed, even in her professional poise, and it helped put Kirsty at ease. Joey just had that way about her; she always seemed to have a plan, or just know what to do. Kirsty hopes she could be that confident one day.

In the meantime, she was fighting the impulse to reach for her sister's hand as they advanced towards the office. She felt like their were eyes hidden in the designs, all gazing at her.

Finally they approached a glass door, and Joey knocked on the metal frame. The man inside looked up; Kirsty glanced at his name on the door, John Merchant in polite silver letters.


"Two more is all you'll need, then?" The Prince resisted the impulse to sigh; Angelique was looking at him with a skeptical pout, and he found himself distinctly unimpressed with the Princess he had succeeded. He had heard such stories of her machinations, but it appeared the Earth had softened her touch, simplified her means.

Seduction, pah. He could seduce someone if he wanted. So could anyone with the aims and know-how, and some even without.

"Leviathan's Power is stronger since your time, Princess," he spoke, "two souls is more than enough to restore my true form. Then we can proceed." He would admit her plan had potential; while her potential may have grown dull, her mind had not, and if this truly was where the LeMarchand descendant could be found, then they could begin tearing the veil between worlds in no time at all.

Oh, the freedom from his previous restraints was exquisite. Why he had spent so long keeping his ambition in check was beyond his comprehension.

"Ah, a child of Leviathan," Angelique said, "I suppose the Labyrinth has not replaced me as its favorite, then." She stepped forward, red nails tracing over his pinned and stony cheek. "So tell me, Son of Leviathan, shall we find the two lucky souls to bring the beginning?" The prince smiled, despite that she was touching him without permission.

"As you wish, Princess."


John Merchant was a man who clearly did not sleep. Kirsty could relate; she was already on her second espresso from his personal coffee machine, and she would felt guilty if he wasn't on his third since the interview started. He seemed happy to talk to them after they explained who they were; and thank goodness, because they didn't have a backup story if they'd gotten kicked out.

"Just one more question," Kirsty said as she scratched away at her notebook with her fountain pen that made her feel important, "What influenced the designs for this particular exhibit? They're quite distinct from your usual work." Which she only knew because she'd looked up some of his designs while pretending to text the camera crew outside. John Merchant smiled, half asleep and half proud.

"They're passed down through my family," he said, shuffling through some papers. "They were actually created by my great-something grandfather, Phillip LeMerchand, when he designed a toy. I've been trying to track it down for years; it's a one-of-a-kind puzzle box."

"What?" Kirsty whispered, and the lights went out.