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“Third floor, Room Forty-six.”

Just in case, I asked, “And who heads it?”

“Lymra.” The name was unfamiliar, meaning the Strigaix was either born after I devoted myself entirely to my research or we ran in different circles. Only time would tell which.

I smiled at the young Strigaix, nodding without so much as a thanks before heading towards the elevators. The opal crystal doors opened and I walked in. A little round orb jutted out of the right-hand side.

I put my finger on it and it pricked me, absorbing my blood, before it bubbled up and morphed into a screen. This floor and the first four were glowing, but the ones below the ground floor and anything over the fourth were blacked out. Unsurprising. The research center I worked in had a similar set up.

I pushed the number three and waited for the doors to reopen before stepping out. The next thirty minutes were spent navigating various signages until I finally reached room forty-six.

Before entering, I pinched the bridge of my nose. Was all this security really necessary for a census department? But it wasn’t my business. With my own research methodology, it didn’t exactly make sense to inquire about the ethical practices of other departments. That I even cared was just a byproduct of unregulated emotions. In time, my curiosity would fade.

The door opened to reveal a taller Strigaix with long black hair pulled into a singular braid and maroon eyes. He leaned down and gripped my chin, turning my face this way and that like I was one of my specimens at the lab.

“One of Zazdibod’s brood?” He yanked my face around some more, using two fingers to open up my eyelids a bit too wide. “Although you share his looks, there is no ice in your soul.”

Just as I was about to push him off me, he stepped back and fondled his chin. “Now why would the blood manipulator want to see me?”

A woman with pinned-up straight black hair and wide, circular spectacles—the eyes behind them the same shade of maroon as the Strigaix before me—poked her head out. “The blood manipulator is here?” she said.

“Yes, my dear.” As if I wasn’t here, the Strigaix crooned at her, “It really is quite the conundrum.”

I interjected, “Lymra, I presume?”

“Yes, that is my name?” He phrased it like a question.

I concentrated on regulating my blood pressure. “Are you or aren’t you Lymra?”

“It depends on who is asking and what you have to offer.”

“I lost my name long ago,” I answered truthfully.

He asked, “Is that why they call you The Incomplete?”

“Are you looking to die?” Maybe it was from dealing with The Shadow for so long, but it would seem patience had forsaken me in this moment.

“You won’t kill me,” he said. “I’m still a Strigaix, not one of those poor souls the Council gives you permission to do as you will with.”

I took a deep, calming breath, remembering that getting arrested when I was so close to my goal was not an option. “I’m looking for data.”

He reeked of sweat. “What sort of data?”

“I want to find another anomaly.”

He drew back his head and laughed into a few dry coughs he swiftly covered, then held out his hand. When I took it, he vigorously shook it up and down, our palms sticking unpleasantly. “Then you’ve come to the right place. I’m Lymra, head of data and research on Strigaix anomalies. It’s so refreshing to see someone interested in their own kind.”

I pulled away, recoiling several steps. “I’m looking for one kind in particular.”

“Oh?” His face fell despite a tight grin, eyes looking me up and down repeatedly. “And what kind would that be?”

“I want the name and location of a Strigaix who can create musical instruments that can make flowers weep.” As the words left my lips, it occurred to me how ridiculous they sounded, but someone had to have that power.

“Are you interested in music?” He cleared his throat with a meatier cough. “That goes against the data we have on you. My dear, make sure you update the blood manipulator’s file.”

“Already typing as you speak.” The woman’s voice was almost robotic.

Unwilling to be derailed again, I said, “I’m as interested in music as the average person, no more and no less.”