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Smoke lingered in the dead, still air. Across the gnarled wooden conference table, the Reaper impatiently batted at the wispy strands. "So why were we called here?"
Unnatural things moved in the darkness at the edges of all their visions, seemingly kept at bay by the dim light around the desk. Movement ceased when the Priestess spoke.
"There are whispers." A long pipe dangled from the treasurer's languid fingers. His attention fixed elsewhere, he continued: "Perhaps you've heard them, little one?"
"...Yes," was the hesitant response beside the Reaper. An expectant silence hung over the assembly, but the Apprentice did not seem forthcoming.
"Well, what is it?" The head of the table spoke. "I don't even know why I'm wasting my time here. Ten minutes pass and The Machine continues to march ahead of me. 2 billion and counting. I'm returning to-"
"You're not going anywhere!" Even sitting in the comfortable chair to the right of the head, only eyes and horns could be seen voicing their displeasure. "That little maneuver you pulled last week cost us 2% on the agreed investment. The Maid could not make it tonight because he had to answer to -his- shareholders for -your- stunt."
"And where has—"
"Wait," a voice came from the far end of the table. "Just in time," remarked the Priestess. The Warden stepped forward into view before taking a seat. "Someone is tampering with our passageways. Someone who knows what they're doing. Or someone who is being told what to do."
"The only ones who know the void are we," began the Reaper, "and—"
"The Investigator," finished the Apprentice, face ashen and fearful. The keen eyes of the Reaper did not miss his wife's expression.
"Bastard! He's on -your- leash, priestess, what's the meaning of this?" yelled the Reaper as he rushed to his feet.
A puff of smoke sailed across the table from the treasurer's lips. "Even he has to make a living, you know. Information is worth something these days to certain people. Isn't that right, little one?"
No response was forthcoming. The Warden sighed. "As loathe as I am to admit it, the Investigator is not our problem. Some other actor is."
"But what of these whispers?" asked the Necromancer at the far corner, pointed at the Apprentice. "What did they tell you?"
He shuddered at the words. "They... T-they..."
"What? What is he talking about?" The Reaper's full attention was now on his wife, who shrank back into his chair.
The room was more still than before. Void leeched into the already dim light about the conference table, obscuring all but the faces of those seated.
"—They want to take me away from you."
