"Gaunt could have worked the transformation spell on the wine. He knew about the amulet, and he is both a sorcerer and an alchemist. But he also had a succubus, with all the power and abilities that granted him. If he'd wanted Blackstone dead, there were any number of ways he could have managed it, without any danger of it being traced back to him. He certainly wouldn't have committed a murder in his own house; an investigation might have discovered his succubus, and he couldn't risk that.
"Dorimant; I did wonder about you for a while. You were obviously very attached to the witch Visage, and jealousy can be a powerful motive. If you thought Blackstone was all that stood between you and her; but you know nothing about magic. You didn't even know how a truthspell worked."
Hawk turned slowly to Stalker. "It had to be you. Stalker. You worked your transformation trick on the wine once too often. Taking the alcohol out of wine was one thing. I might have overlooked that, but changing the wine to a sedative for Gaunt was a mistake. Once I'd seen that, a lot of things suddenly fell into place. I wondered why Blackstone had taken that last glass of wine, when he'd already said he wasn't going to drink any more because he had no head for wine. He took that final glass because you told him you'd worked your trick on it to take out the alcohol. Also, when Visage was killed on the landing, you were one of the last people to leave the parlor, which meant you had plenty of time to kill Katherine, while everyone else's attention was distracted.
"It was the lack of motive that threw me for a long time, until I discovered you were a DeFerrier. Blackstone's next main cause would have been a drive against child prostitution, and those who supported it. Fisher and I were working on just such a case before we were called away to go after the Chandler Lane vampire. The word was that we were called off because we were getting too close to one of the main patrons, an influential and very respectable man with a taste for abusing children. The DeFerriers had a thing about children, didn't they? We'll never know exactly how many children were tortured and killed in their black magic rituals. You were the patron, Stalker. You were the one who had us called off. And that's why you had to kill Blackstone. During his investigation, he'd discovered your obsession with child prostitutes, and he was going to turn you over to the Guard, as soon as he had some concrete evidence to use against you. And he'd have found it, eventually. Oh, you argued with him, promised him anything and everything, but Blackstone was an honest man. You couldn't buy him, and you couldn't intimidate him, so you killed him. You couldn't have let him tell the world what you really are. It would have destroyed your reputation and your legend, and that's all you've got left to live on.
"You must have put a lot of planning into Blackstones death, Stalker. After all, you were the one who first told Visage how to make the protective amulet. Ironic, isn't it? By wearing that amulet, he was unknowingly collaborating in his own murder. If it hadn't been for Katherine, you might well have got away with it, and your dirty little secret would have been safe. Adam Stalker, I hereby place you under arrest for the murder of William and Katherine Blackstone."
For a long moment nobody said anything, and then Stalker chuckled quietly. "I said you were good, didn't I? You worked it all out, from beginning to end. If it hadn't been for that bitch Katherine; I forgot how tough she was. She always could think on her feet, and she was one hell of an actress. If it hadn't been for her muddying the waters, you wouldn't have suspected a thing. But it doesn't matter. I'm not going to stand trial."
Hawk threw himself sideways out of his chair as Stalker suddenly lunged forward, sword in hand. Hawk hit the floor rolling as the sword slammed into the back of the chair where he'd been sitting. He was quickly back on his feet again, axe in hand. Fisher was also on her feet, sword at the ready. Gaunt and Dorimant watched, shocked, as Stalker drew his sword, kicked aside his chair, and backed quickly away.
"You've got good reflexes, Hawk," said Stalker. "But you still don't stand a chance against me. The only one who could have stopped me is Gaunt, and my sedative's taken care of him. In a few minutes the isolation spell will collapse, and I'll be on my way. The Guard will find nothing but a house full of bodies, and I'll be long gone. This will be just another unsolved mystery. Haven's full of them."
"You're not going anywhere," said Fisher, lifting her sword slightly.
"You think you're going to stop me, girl?"
"Why not? I've dealt with worse than you in my time."
Stalker smiled contemptuously and stepped forward, his long sword shining brightly as it cut through the air towards her. Fisher braced herself and parried the blow, grunting at the effort it cost her. The sword was heavy, and Stalker was every bit as strong as they said he was. She cut at his unprotected leg, and he parried the blow easily. Hawk moved in to join her, swinging his axe. Stalker picked up a chair with his free hand and threw it at Hawk. One of the chair legs struck him a glancing blow to the head and he fell to the floor, stunned. Fisher threw herself at Stalker, and he stepped forward to meet her. He quickly took the advantage, and Fisher was forced to retreat round the room, blocking his sword with hers as she searched and waited for an opening in his defense that never came. She was good with a blade, but he was better.
Sparks sputtered and died on the still air, and the parlor was full of the ring of steel on steel. Hawk got to his feet and shook his head to clear it. Stalker scowled briefly. He couldn't fight them both, and he knew it. He turned suddenly and cut viciously at Dorimant, who shrank back in his chair, unharmed. Fisher threw herself forward to block the blow, and Stalker spun round at the last moment and kicked her solidly under the left knee. Fisher collapsed as her leg betrayed her, groaning with agony. Stalker drew back his sword to finish her, and then Hawk was upon him, swinging his axe double-handed, and Stalker had to retreat.
Stalker and Hawk stood toe to toe, their blades a flashing blue in the lamplight. Sword and axe rose and fell, cut and parry and riposte, with no quarter asked or given. The pace was too fast for the fight to last long. Stalker tried every dirty trick and foul move he knew, but none of them worked against Hawk. In the end he felt himself beginning to slow, and grew desperate. He used the same trick once too often, and Hawk stepped inside his guard and knocked the sword from his hand. Stalker staggered back, nursing his numbed hand. He leaned against the wall, breathing hard.
"I said you were good, Hawk. Ten years ago you wouldn't have touched me; but that was ten years ago." He waited a moment while his breathing slowed and steadied. "It's not really my fault, you know. You can't imagine what it was like, growing up in this house, seeing the things my family did; What chance did I have? They were vile, all of them, and they tried to corrupt me, too. I couldn't stop them; I was only a child. So I ran away. And I became a hero, to help others, because there was no one to help me when I needed it. But still I was tainted, full of the corruption they'd taught me. I fought it; I fought it for years. But it was too strong, and I was too weak; I even tried to buy this house, so I could burn it to the ground and break its hold on me. But Gaunt wouldn't sell. It wasn't my fault. None of it was my fault! I didn't choose to be; what I am."
"I saw what you did to that girl in the brothel over the Nag's Head," said Hawk. "I would have killed myself before I did such a thing."
Stalker nodded slowly. "I was never that brave. Till now. I told you I wouldn't stand trial."
He drew a dagger from his boot, turned it quickly in his hand, and thrust it deep into his heart. He fell to his knees, looked triumphantly at Hawk, and then fell forward and lay still. Hawk moved cautiously forward and stirred the body with his boot. There was no response. He knelt down and tried for a pulse. There wasn't one. Adam Stalker was dead.