Fisher didn't approve of the Sisters. They were dangerous. Like a rose with poisoned thorns. In her time as a Guard, Fisher had seen men entrapped by the Sisters and betrayed by their own weaknesses. They lost all strength and dignity, giving up on everything except the object of their obsession. They threw away their jobs, alienated their families, and sold everything they could lay their hands on to make donations to the Sisters. By the time the Sister concerned had sucked them dry, it must almost have come as a relief.
Fisher folded her arms and leaned back against a church wall, staring thoughtfully at the house of the Sisters of Joy. What the hell was Buchan doing here? It wasn't at all in character for the great romantic she'd heard so much about. Of course, she if anyone had good reason to know that people weren't always what their storied personas made them out to be. But still… What if there was something else going on here? Something… deeper. Fisher pushed herself away from the wall and unfolded her arms. Whatever Buchan was mixed up in, she wanted to know about it. There were too many secrets in this case. She checked her sword moved freely in its scabbard, marched over to the Sisters' door, and knocked loudly. There as a long pause. Passersby looked at Fisher in various ways. Fisher glared at them all impartially.
The door finally opened a few inches. Fisher put her shoulder to the door and shoved it all the way open. She stalked in past the astonished Sister she'd sent flying backwards, and looked around her. There was an understated elegance to the hallway, with delicately fashioned furniture and a deep pile carpet. An ornate glass-and-crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the air was scented with rose petals. It was actually quite impressive in a quiet way. Fisher had been in country mansions that looked less refined. Until you took in the obscene murals on the walls. Fisher had never seen anything like them. She felt a blush rising to her cheeks, and looked quickly away. The Sister had recovered her composure, and took the opportunity to bow respectfully to Fisher. She was very lovely, in an open, healthy way that owed nothing to makeup, with curly russet hair and a heart-shaped face. Her long flowing gown was spotlessly white and hugged her magnificent figure in all the right places. She couldn't have been more than nineteen or twenty. Fisher felt decidedly battered and dowdy in comparison, which didn't do a thing for her temper.
The Sister bowed again, showing off her cleavage, and smiled widely at Fisher. "Welcome to the house of pleasure and contentment, Captain. In what way may we be of service to you?"
"I'm looking for Buchan," said Fisher flatly. "Where is he?"
The Sister shook her head, still smiling. "We guarantee complete anonymity to all who come here, Captain. Within this house our patrons are free to adopt whatever names or characters they wish. We ask no questions, demand no answers. We offer comfort and security to all who come here, and we protect their privacy. Whatever your business is with the man you seek, it will have to wait until he has left these walls."
Fisher scowled. She knew a set speech when she heard one. "All right, we'll do it the hard way." She reached out, took a handful of the Sister's gown, and pulled her close so that their faces were only inches apart. "I'm Captain Fisher of the city Guard. I'm here on official business, and I want to see Charles Buchan right now. And if you or anyone else gets in my way, I am going to bounce them off the nearest wall till their ears bleed. Got it?"
The Sister never flinched once. She met Fisher's gaze calmly, and when she spoke, her voice was mild and even and unafraid. "Kill me, if you wish. My Sisters will avenge me. The secrets of this house are not mine to tell, and I will die rather than divulge them. No Sister here will tell you anything, Captain. We will not betray those who trust us."
Fisher swore briefly, and let the Sister go. She felt obscurely ashamed, as though she'd been caught bullying a child. She had no doubt the Sister meant what she said. Her voice and face held the unquestioning certainty of the fanatic. Probably brainwashed. Or under a geas' compulsion. Or both. She sighed, and stepped away from the Sister. When in doubt, be direct.
"Buchan!" she roared at the top of her voice. "Charles Buchan! I know you're here. Either get the hell down here and talk to me or I'll go out into the Street and tell everyone I see that you're in here. What do you think would happen to your reputation as a member of the God Squad if word got out that you were a sister-lover? Buchan! Talk to me!"
There was a long pause, and then a second Sister appeared from a concealed doorway. She wore the same white gown and was equally lovely, in a cool aristocratic way, but she was nearer Fisher's age, and though she smiled and bowed respectfully, her eyes were cold and hard. "There's no need for threats, Captain. The person you seek has agreed to see you. Even though he was assured he didn't have to. And Captain; if he hadn't agreed, you would not have got any further in this house. We have spells to ensure our privacy. Very unpleasant spells. Now, if you'll come with me, please…"
Fisher gave the Sister one of her best scowls, just to make it clear who was really in charge here, and then followed her through a series of stairs and corridors to a plain anonymous door on the second floor. The Sister bowed deeply and left her there. Fisher knocked once, and walked straight in without waiting for an answer. The room was luxurious without being overbearing, and the furnishings had the understated elegance of old money. Fisher wondered fleetingly just how old the Sisters' establishment was, and then fixed her attention on Charles Buchan. He was standing stiffly beside a chair on which sat a beautiful young woman, a pale willowy blonde barely into her twenties. Is that it? thought Fisher. All this secrecy, just because he's fallen for a girl young enough to be his daughter? And yet… there was something wrong with the scene. She turned and pushed the door shut, to give herself a moment to think. Buchan's attitude; that was what was wrong. As soon as she turned back, she recognized what it was. Buchan didn't look ashamed, or indignant, or obsessed with the girl; he looked protective toward her, as though all that mattered was protecting the Sister from Fisher. If he cared at all about being found out, he was doing an excellent job of hiding it. He met Fisher's gaze unwaveringly.
"Captain Fisher. I should have known you'd find us out, if anyone would."
Fisher shrugged. "I don't like secrets. I take it personally when people hide things from me. Particularly when it affects a case we're supposed to be working on together."
"There's no connection between this and the God murders, Captain. You have my word on that. Annette, I'd like you to meet Captain Fisher, one of my colleagues on the God Squad. Captain, this is Annette. My daughter."
Annette smiled at Fisher, who just stood there, completely thrown.
"Why don't we all sit down?" Buchan suggested. "This is going to take some explaining."
"Yes," said Fisher. "I think it is."
Buchan pulled up a chair beside Annette, and Fisher sat on a chair facing them. Buchan took a deep breath and plunged straight in.
"Annette's mother was a young Lady from a rival Family. The heads of our Families weren't talking to each other, and there had even been a few duels. Nothing unusual, but it was all very tense, and the worst possible time for us to meet and fall in love. But we were young and foolish, and nothing mattered to us except each other. We were going to run away and be married secretly. We even had some naive hopes that our marriage would bring the Families back together again.