He grabbed the cat with his human hand and walked inside, petting the orange creature with his dark claw. The cat seemed interested in the changed arm, sniffing the skin and licking with a textured tongue.

  Two girls, rubbing their eyes, exited from the room in the back.

  They are identical!

  Their dark hair was the same length, matching pajamas and mirrored drowsy expressions. They couldn’t be older than twelve.

  “Jonna, Jenni.” Astrid said and gestured to him. “This is Wretch. He is waiting to meet your father. He is blessed just like me and Elenya.”

  “Good morning!” They said in unison.

  “Don’t get used to him. He is not on the team!” Elenya said, patting her pocket as if looking for something.

  With lightning speed, Wretch zipped a hand out of his own coat and placed her stolen coin purse on a table. The giant mumbled something and Wretch took a few steps away.

  “We will see! Do you mind getting the breakfast ready?” Astrid said to the twins and gave Elenya a harsh look, who refused to meet her gaze.

  “There it is.” She exclaimed, bursting from the sofa. She ripped the cat from his grasp, grabbed the coinpurse and threw the bundle of clothes to him in a whirlwind of movement. She sat down again, petting the creature in defiance.

  She’s strong, but not that attentive, maybe she was hit in the head as a child?

  “You can change in there,” Astrid said and pointed to a door. “And take a shower first. No offense, your outfit looks rather…. tarnished.”

  Wretch did a more proficient bow.

  “Thank you so much. It is more than I deserve.”

  He walked to the door but froze at the entrance.

  “How does a shower work?”

  A long sigh came from the sofa.

  Astrid raised an eyebrow. “There is a handle to the left for water-pressure and another on the right for temperature.”

  “Thanks,” Wretch said and stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him.

  Shit, I shouldn’t have asked that last part.

  After a shake of his head, he took in the room. It was exquisite, at least for his standards. Worn wooden floor, a simple steel-frame bed, and a cupboard. A few rays of sunlight trickling in through a window without curtains. He skulked forward, opening another door that led into a bathroom with the rumored shower.

  He pulled his various belongings from his coat’s many nooks, The strange glowing rock, the worn book and some colorful pieces of glass he liked. Laying them all down on the bed with care.

  He removed the many layers of cloth that made up his clothes and stepped into the shower and turned a valve.

  A yelp escaped him.

  It was icy-cold and he stumbled out, sliding across the ceramic tiles. After collecting himself he reached a hand out and turned another valve. This time the water went from absolute freezing to boiling.

  “Saint be damned, these things are dangerous.” He said.

  Finally he found a comfortable temperature and stepped into the water in earnest. It was hot, but not scalding, soothing an ache he didn't even know he had.

  The collected soot and smog darkened the water running down his skin. He stood there in bliss for a few minutes.

  All right. Showtime.

  He dressed himself in a pair of black pants and a white shirt. Even with the belt pulled as far the notches allowed, they still hung loose around his waist.

  Using his clawed hand as a comb, he tried to tame the wild mass of hair atop his head. Then he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror.

  It had been years since he’d seen himself in anything more than the reflection of a stained window. Raising his human hand, he traced the scars lining his cheek. His face looked thinner than he remembered. Sharp cheekbones, eyes wide and orb-like.

  This is how I look, huh?

  He raised his clawed hand and flexed his fingers in the mirror.

  Scary. Remember that. You’re scary.

  As he stepped out of the bathroom, he paused with his hand on the doorframe.

  You got this. Just hold it together. We have to find him.

  Then he opened the door.

  And the scent of fresh bread and seared meat slapped any sense of planning out of his head.

  In the kitchen, the twins were shuffling food and pans with fervent energy. The smell of sausages, eggs, and freshly baked bread was overwhelming. Wretch had to restrain himself from lunging forward and grabbing a handful after surviving on scraps for days.

  Elenya sat at the table, clutching the orange cat named Whisky in an iron grip.

  A loud rumble from his stomach broke through the cat’s purring and the sizzling from the stove.

  “Judging by that noise, and the belt barely holding your trousers, you want some breakfast, don’t you?” Astrid said, nudging up her glasses from her spot on the sofa, a book open in her lap.

  “Great. A freeloader,” Elenya muttered.

  “What was that?” Astrid asked sharply, turning her head.

  “Oh, nothing. I was just talking to Whisky,” Elenya said sweetly, lifting the cat by its front paws and making it walk across the table like a marionette. “A weak little boy wants to eat my sausage,” she said in a baby voice.

  The twins giggled. Astrid sighed as they all took their seats at the table. Wretch might’ve blushed, if hunger hadn’t taken full control.

  The others dove into their meals without hesitation.

  Eat slowly, he reminded himself, even as every fiber of his being screamed to devour everything in sight and throw himself off the balcony.

  He lifted a piece of hot, moist bread to his lips.

  Slowly.

  He placed it in his mouth, then swallowed it whole.

  Shit. Forgot to chew.

  He glanced around. No one seemed to notice. Elenya was chewing on a sausage held in her bare hand. A hot breath escaped him.

  Whatever happens, at least I got a decent meal out of it.

  Fifteen minutes passed in a blur of chewing, laughter, and warmth. Then came the sound of a door opening below, followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs.

  Wretch’s heart leapt. He offered a quick prayer to the Saint, the Flame and even the suns just for good measure.

  From the staircase emerged a tall, broad man in a formal suit, a long coat, and a rounded hat. His hair and eyes were dark, and his face looked carved from stone a little too roughly.

  He tossed his coat and hat onto a nearby rack, pausing mid-step as he noticed Wretch.

  Then his expression softened as he looked at the twins.

  “If you two tried to sneak your first love into the house without telling me,” he said in a deep voice, “he’s in for an uncomfortable interrogation. You have my word.”

  The twins giggled.

  “He’s here to apply for the company,” Astrid said, slicing a piece of fruit with surgical precision. “He’s Blessed.”

  “Cap, he’s not strong. Frail like a bird,” Elenya chimed in, inspecting a fork. “Could barely open the door.”

  Astrid cleared her throat.

  “Also,” she added without looking up, “Elenya nearly threw him off the balcony.”

  “Did she now…” Edmund said, narrowing his eyes at the back of Elenya’s head. Her cheeks took on a hue from her ginger hair.

  After a moment of silence, Edmund gave a smile.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Oh well. You look to be in one piece, young lad,” he said, taking a seat at the table.

  Elenya let out a breath like she’d been holding it for hours.

  “Welcome to the Richters!” the man said warmly. Gesturing outwards as wrinkles gathered at the corner of his eyes.

  “My lovely daughters, if you’ve finished breakfast, please head to your room so I can have an earnest conversation with this young man.”

  The twins scurried off without protest as Edmund Richter sat down and poured himself a cup of black, bitter smelling liquid.

  “Coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” Wretch replied, a knot tightening in his stomach at the man’s presence.

  Just give a good pitch. You’ve survived worse.

  “I presume from the arm, you’re an Ember?”

  “That is correct sir, I am good at a lot of things, like running and climbing,” Wretch responded, focusing his eyes on a spot behind the captain’s shoulder.

  “We’ll get to that. And drop the sir, call me Edmund.”

  He took a sip from his cup, then looked at Wretch from across the table.

  “What’s your blessed name, kid?”

  A jolt went through his body, a tingling sensation from his feet that traveled up to rest in his stomach.

  Well, it was a good try at least.

  “It’s Wretch, Wretch the Rat-Eater,” he said, keeping his voice steady.

  Astrid and Elenya stopped chewing.

  “Oh, come on captain. We can’t have a guy like that. That’s disgusting,” Elenya said with a mouth full of food.

  The captain shot the massive girl a meaningful look, and she snapped her face down to inspect her plate.

  “I figured you would be the last to judge someone by their Blessed name, Elenya.” The captain said, tapping a finger on the table.

  He turned back to Wretch.“ You speak well for a kid from the Lows. Are you from a rich family?”

  Wretch could feel his gaze on him despite not meeting his eyes.

  “Far from it. I worked for a Blessed and… visited the Spires often.”

  “I won't pry, at least for now.” Edmund said with a nod, “how’d you get Blessed?”

  “I got trapped in the sewers down in the Lows. A beast killed the Blessed I mentioned. I fell, then crawled for days. No food, no water. Just darkness. And rats. So I ate them.”

  “That’s how you became an Ember?” Edmund asked, with a raised eyebrow “It’s rare to ascend without violence, though Astrid here is proof it’s possible.”

  Wretch shook his head.

  “I found a chamber with a ladder leading up to a drain. But something lived there. Something Blessed. A rat-beast-thing.”

  “And you escaped?” Edmund asked.

  Wretch looked up and finally met his gaze.

  “No…” he said without fear. “It bit my arm off. Then I killed it. Took a few bites out of it too. That’s when I became Blessed.”

  The room went still again. Edmund held his coffee midair, halfway to his lips.

  “You killed it?” he said, more to himself than to anyone else.

  Wretch sat still.

  “Astrid,” Edmund continued, eyes narrowing slightly, “how many non-Blessed men does the Bureau recommend to hunt a beast of Ember rank?”

  “Minimum twelve in optimal conditions, captain,” she replied calmly.

  Elenya stared at Wretch, mouth slightly open.

  “Wait a minute, no way he killed something like that,” she said, leaning over the table.

  Edmund stroked his chin thoughtfully.

  “He could be lying, of course.”

  Wretch’s face turned red, his fingers tightening on the edge of the table while his claw left deep scratches.

  “I’m not a liar! I’ve got the scars to prove it!”

  “Let’s be civil,” Edmund said firmly.

  Both Wretch and Elenya sat back in their chairs at his words. His tone was certain, as if he was completely convinced they would follow his command.

  Edmund continued.

  “Did you find anything after killing the Ember beast?”

  Wretch quickly ran through his memories, sorting through the few items he still carried.

  Wait. The stone.

  “I found a strange rock inside it. It’s warm. Glows a little.”

  “A coal,” Astrid said, looking at Edmund.

  “Indeed.” He nodded. “Do you still have it?”

  “I do! Wait here,” Wretch said with a grin.

  In a flash, he leapt from his seat, darted across the room, and disappeared behind a door.

  “He wasn’t lying about being quick on his feet either,” Astrid remarked, adjusting her glasses.

  Edmund stretched his neck, eyes trailing to the empty plate where Wretch had sat.

  “First impressions?”

  “Weak… but persistent.” Elenya said in a reluctant tone.

  “Curious, and polite." Astrid filled in.

  Moments later, Wretch returned holding the black rock. A faint orange glow pulsed from within, casting shadows down his fingers.

  Astrid took it from him, her eyes narrowing as she studied the object.

  “Certainly a coal. Ember grade is my guess, maybe low Fireling,” she said while taking in the strange rock from every angle.

  “What is it?” Wretch asked, sitting back down at his seat.

  “That’s a coal from an Ember,” Edmund explained, setting his coffee cup aside. “When Blessed die, we leave a coal behind.”

  He glanced at Wretch. “These coals are valuable and useful, you can draw out the flame to kindle your own.”

  “What do you mean, kindle and what exactly is an Ember?” Wretch asked, glancing over at Elenya who was massacring an unfortunate egg on her plate.

  “It’s not strange that you don’t know. This knowledge isn’t exactly public,” Edmund said. “Astrid, would you mind?”

  Astrid straightened, pushing her glasses up once again.

  “We’re all Blessed,” she said, gesturing to the four people huddled around the table. “But the favor of the Old Flame can grow.”

  “You’re an Ember now, so are Elenya and I. It’s the first tier of the Blessed. Everyone starts there with two Blessings,” she said with a lecturing tone.

  Wretch gave a series of nods, etching each word to memory.

  “So my flame can grow stronger?”

  “That’s right,” she answered. “Every time you kindle, your fire strengthens. At a certain point, any significant challenge can facilitate an ascension to the next tier, Fireling.” Astrid explained with exaggerated hand movement.

  “Firelings are stronger, tougher. They develop new blessings and hold more flame.”

  “You get a name change too!” Elenya added, finally looking up. “Edmund is a Fireling.”

  “You’d be lucky to reach that in a decade,” Astrid said. “Most die long before that. The third tier is Blaze, but that’s very rare. What exactly changes at that level… well, no one shares that knowledge freely.”

  Wretch leaned forward with a hard expression.

  “How do I get to a higher rank?”

  “That's where the coals come in, you strengthen your own flame by taking theirs. It’s a one-time use and the coal will turn to ash. But as you grow, you’ll also kindle naturally. It’s like a flood of flame. Using the coals will get you closer, but not over to the next Blessed stage,” Edmund said. “That step into a new tier has to come through an appropriate challenge.”

  Wretch looked inside the dark space within him. The tiny crackling fire and a lone prostrating beast reflecting the light. The knowledge was there.

  Times Kindled: 0

  “There’s no record of anyone reaching Fireling without kindling at least ten times,” Astrid said. “Closer to fifteen, usually.”

  Edmund reached for a piece of bread, tearing into it slowly.

  “Well, we know you can fight when you have to,” he said between bites. “What else are you good at, Wretch?”

  Remember the pitch, he thought.

  “Um…I'm great at running, climbing, and I have really sharp claws. I can heal fast too, that’s how I got my arm back. Oh, and I can change my body… make it more like the rat-beast I killed. That’s why my hand looks like this,” he said quickly, raising his left hand. He tugged back his sleeve to reveal the ashen-skinned claw. Flexing the dark finger.

  Edmund pushed the plate away and stared at him. Clearly deciding his fate.

  “On this team, I’m the shield,” Edmund began. “Elenya, as you’ve probably guessed, is the sword. Astrid is the reason we make it back alive.”

  Wretch glanced between them.

  “What we’re missing,” the captain continued, “are eyes and ears. Someone who can track. You say you can change into that beast and heal?”

  Wretch nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ve got two Blessings. Regeneration, and… something called Flesh Stealer. The second one lets me take parts of the creature I killed.”

  “A versatile skill set with a lot of potential,” Edmund said, rubbing his chin. “Good timing, too. I just got a contract this morning.”

  Wretch snapped his head up.

  “Companies like ours are under the Bureau of the Hunt,” Edmund said. “We’re privately run, but centrally sanctioned. We take work from civilians, sure, but most of it comes from the city through the Bureau. Hunting down things the officers can’t.”

  He leaned back in his chair, then gave a friendly smile that made wrinkles appear again at the corners of his eyes.

  “Last question. Why become a hunter? The coin? Revenge?”

  Wretch met his gaze.

  “My father was a hunter, I want to find him."

  Edmund raised an eyebrow.

  “What is his name?”

  “No idea.” Wretch answered with a shake of his head. “I last saw him ten years ago.”

  “That will be hard, but certainly not impossible. All right, back to business, you’ll join us for this next mission. Call it a trial. A chance to show what you’re made of. That includes your skills but also judgement.”

  “Remember, we need a scout. And under no circumstances should you burn the last of your Ember’s flame. You’d go mad if you do, understand?”

  Wretch breathed out, slumping in his chair. “I won’t disappoint."

  From across the table, Elenya let out a similar sigh. “Great. Try not to die right away.”