The Relic Guild by Edward Cox

of run-ins with the police in her time, but never had she gained the attention of the captain.
    Jeter slipped Clara’s medicine tin from his pocket and rattled the tablets inside before placing it on the table with a crisp snap. He then took a seat while the policewoman remained standing beside him.
    ‘Peppercorn Clara,’ he said. His voice was low, soft almost. ‘You have quite the reputation.’
    ‘So I hear,’ Clara said as casually as she could.
    Jeter offered a small, cold smile. The policewoman simply stared at Clara, almost certainly contemptuous of her profession.
    Jeter tapped the medicine tin with a finger. ‘Would you mind telling me what these tablets are for?’
    ‘My prescription,’ she said. ‘I have … seizures.’
    ‘Really?’ His tone was dry, unconvinced.
    Clara looked up at the policewoman, and then back at the captain. She had to be careful. It was obvious that Jeter didn’t know she was a changeling; if he did, she would already be dead. But Charlie Hemlock had somehow discovered she was a magicker. It would probably only be a matter of time before Jeter did, too.
    ‘The remains of a man were discovered,’ the captain was saying, ‘in a house on the east side of town. This man was a known associate of Charlie Hemlock, and he had been … well, to say brutally murdered would be putting it mildly. And what remained of his body had been stripped naked, Clara.’
    Jeter paused to make an obvious show of studying the over-sized clothes that Clara wore; the rips and tears and dark stains that decorated them. ‘You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?’
    ‘No,’ she lied quickly, instinctively.
    ‘Are you sure?’ The captain’s face was stony; his dark glasses like hollows in his face. ‘You had no reason to run from the police?’
    Clara shook her head and kept silent.
    Jeter sighed. ‘We know you were sold to Charlie Hemlock, and you’ve been missing for three days. But why sneak back to the Lazy House? Why not go straight to the nearest police station?’
    There was no way Clara could answer that honestly. She stared down into her lap.
    ‘Well?’ Jeter snapped.
    Clara flinched. ‘I-I panicked, I suppose. I just wanted to be somewhere familiar.’ It was mostly the truth, but even to her the words sounded unconvincing.
    ‘I see.’ Jeter looked up at the policewoman, who was still glaring at the prisoner.
    ‘I’m easily bored, Clara,’ Jeter continued. ‘So let’s try coming at this from a different angle. Fat Jacob sold you to Charlie Hemlock, but Hemlock has never been the brains behind any operation. So for whom was he buying you?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ Clara said truthfully. ‘He never told me who he was working for.’
    ‘All right – I’ll believe that for now. For what reason were you purchased?’
    Clara opened her mouth, but no words came out.
    Charlie Hemlock was a sick bastard. There was nothing he wouldn’t dirty his hands with for money. But Jeter’s question was a good one; Clara had never discovered the specific reason why he wanted her.
    With a quick glance at the milky eye watching her from the grey wall, Clara shrugged at the police captain. ‘Perhaps you should ask Fat Jacob.’
    ‘I’ll be sure to do that.’ Jeter stared at her for a moment, and then he picked up the medicine tin, rattling it once more. ‘So when did you last see Charlie Hemlock?’ he asked.
    Clara licked her lips. Her mouth began to work, but again she dared not answer.
    ‘You whores should really learn when to help yourselves,’ Jeter said with a sigh. ‘I have a murder victim, Charlie Hemlock is as elusive as ever, and his mysterious employer has purchased a whore. You are the one link that connects them all, Clara, yet you really believe you can convince me that you know nothing?’
    He leaned forwards and clenched his teeth. ‘It’s a ridiculous belief – especially as you were seen tonight, emerging from the Great Labyrinth.’
    Clara’s breath