The Scumbags Guide to Enslaving Demon's

Somewhere beyond the shifting stalls, a clock started counting down. The sound came from every direction at once.

A single deep tick rolled through Kharos, followed by another, and with each one the black tokens in Austin Veyron’s group grew colder. Vessa looked up at the layered streets and said the market was reclassifying their debt, so they had until the clock reached midnight again.

”How long?” Rin asked.

”In Kharos? That question costs extra,” Vessa answered, and they ran anyway.

The Clock Court rose above the inner market, a narrow tower built from overlapping clock faces. Glass tubes hung along its outer walls, each holding a fold of darkness that pulsed like a sleeping breath.

Some faces had hands while others showed only blank circles. ”Stolen nights,” Nyra whispered, her grip tightening around the neutralized heart shard.

A bridge led to the tower entrance, where two debt guards armored in silver paper and brass stood beneath the arch. Their helmets had no eyes, only ledger slits, and between them stood a third figure in a plain gray coat with a black token pinned to her lapel.

Rin slowed and murmured that the one in gray was breathing wrong, so she was not a construct. The woman saw them approach.

She was an adult with a thin scar along her jaw and exhaustion in her eyes. ”Permit holders,” she said. ”Clock Court is closed to unpaid routes.”

Vessa stepped forward and said they were there under a redemption claim, and the woman’s expression did not change, though her fingers tightened around the token at her coat. ”Redemption claims require a replacement absence.”

”No,” Austin Veyron said. ”They require an unspent stolen night.”

The two brass guards shifted, and the woman lowered her voice. ”That is not what the court wants people to know.”

Rin had moved close enough to see that the token pin was engraved with a time rather than a price. ”She is a debtor,” Rin said, and the woman flinched.

”I was. Now I am a guard.”

Nyra asked whether the market had taken a night from her, and the woman’s eyes found Nyra’s collar scar. ”They took the night my son was born. I remember the morning before and the morning after, but everything between belongs to the market.”

Vessa’s face hardened as she asked the guard’s name. After a hesitation, the woman answered, ”Tala.”

”Do you want it back?” Vessa asked.

Tala laughed once, without humor. ”Wanting is not a legal argument.”

”No,” Austin Veyron said, ”but it is a place to start.”

One of the brass guards turned its ledger slit toward him and flashed UNAUTHORIZED EMPATHY DETECTED.

The bridge floor opened in black lines. Veyra drew her blade and said, ”That is new,” and the guards attacked.

Paper armor unfolded into long hooked arms, and the first swept at Veyra’s knees. She jumped the hook and cut into the brass joint, but the guard did not bleed. Its ledger slit opened wider and sprayed silver tags that tried to attach prices to her blade, until Rin’s arrow pinned them to the bridge rail and Sable’s crown shard made the silver words go blank.

The second guard came for Nyra and the heart shard, but Austin Veyron intercepted it. The brass fist struck his shoulder and drove him back a step.

The guard’s chest plate opened to reveal a little black dial and the words REPLACEMENT ABSENCE REQUIRED. DEVOUR stirred, but the temporal claim tasted wrong even from a distance. He could feel how much power was trapped inside the stolen nights around the tower, and one careless bite could take a memory that belonged to someone else.

”Target the replacement-absence requirement,” he said, ”and only that clause.”

Veyra and Sable answered together. ”Witnessed.”

Austin Veyron grabbed the guard’s chest plate, and DEVOUR opened. The clause fought him with images of empty chairs, missing conversations, and birthdays no one could remember.

It wanted him to believe every returned night had to create a new hole somewhere else, and it repeated REPLACEMENT ABSENCE REQUIRED. He consumed the lie, and the guard’s black dial shattered. The brass body staggered and folded into paper strips that blew off the bridge, while the second guard froze as its command network lost the claim that held it upright.

Tala stared at the empty space where the first guard had been. ”You broke a court rule,” she said.

”I broke a false price,” Austin Veyron said.

The remaining guard turned toward Tala and announced DEBTOR COMPROMISED. COLLECTION INITIATED. as silver tags flew at her throat. Tala moved before anyone else, tearing the black token from her own coat and flinging it into the guard’s ledger slit. The guard convulsed, Veyra struck its knee, Rin’s arrow hit the exposed dial, and the construct collapsed.

Tala looked at the broken token in the bridge dust. ”I chose that,” she said, as if she needed to hear herself say it.

”Then come with us,” Nyra replied, and the Clock Court doors opened.

Inside, the tower was larger than its exterior, with staircases curling around a central void filled with hanging glass tubes. Each tube contained a stolen night, whether a dark little scene, a whisper, or a fragment of laughter. Some showed first kisses, some showed deaths, and some showed people sitting alone in rooms they would never remember visiting.

Vessa stopped beneath one tube where a young woman was laughing in rain. Her face went still.

”My night,” she said.

Austin Veyron did not ask what it held, and he waited instead.

Vessa looked away and said, ”Later, not now.”

At the top of the spiral stairs, the timekeeper waited behind a desk made from stacked clock faces. They were an elderly-looking demon with white horns and ink-stained hands, and their eyes were clear and tired.

”Five permit holders, one courier, one attuned witness, and a former debtor,” the timekeeper said. ”An expensive group.”

Nyra said they needed an unspent stolen night returned, and when the timekeeper asked to whom, she answered, ”My sister.”

The timekeeper’s fingers paused over a ledger as they asked for her name, and Nyra’s mouth tightened.

”We do not use it,” Austin Veyron said. ”She can identify the night another way.”

The timekeeper looked almost amused. ”You have been taught the market’s first lesson, then.”

Nyra stepped to the central void, and her horn markings began to glow blue-black. She held the neutralized heart shard beneath the hanging tubes.

”My sister sang when she was afraid,” Nyra said. ”She tapped three beats on a table before she made a choice, and she had a scar on her left thumb from a glass cup.”

The tubes stirred, and one descended slowly from the upper dark. Inside was a night of rain, in which an adult woman sat on a balcony with a newborn wrapped against her chest, singing softly while she tapped three beats against the rail.

Tala made a choking sound. ”That is mine,” she said.

Nyra stared at her and asked, ”Your son?”

Tala nodded, tears running down her face. ”My night. They took it from me.”

The timekeeper watched the tube and declared the night unspent and valid.

”Return it,” Austin Veyron said, but the old demon shook their head. The original contract had to be voided first, or the market would simply take the night again when they left.

”What was the original contract?” Vessa asked.

The timekeeper opened a small drawer and removed a page written in silver ink.

The market had classified Tala’s night as collateral after a debt clerk recorded her acceptance of an emergency refuge loan. At the bottom was a stamped signature that was not Tala’s name but a line reading SILENCE CONSTITUTES AGREEMENT.

Austin Veyron felt cold anger move through him. ”The same lie,” he said.

”The auction master wrote it,” the timekeeper replied. ”The original ledger is still in the old auction hall, where every stolen night connected to the heart shard was indexed.”

Vessa looked down at the black tokens as the market clock ticked again. ”We just left the auction hall,” she said.

”And Vordessa’s fragment moved back there,” the timekeeper said. ”It is feeding on the time network now, so if you destroy the lie in the master ledger, the stolen night can be returned. If you fail, the Clock Court will collect a different night from all of you.”

The heart shard in Nyra’s hands pulsed once, faintly red, because the auction hall was calling it back. Austin Veyron looked at the hanging tubes full of stolen lives, then at the long spiral stair behind them.

”We go back,” he said.

The market clock answered with another tick.