She stood over the sleeping vagrant, cleaver raised like a guillotine. Not a bad way to go, really. The Nix knew that firsthand, which is why she’d tried to cajole Agnes from the start to change her method, but—

“I’m ready,” Agnes repeated.

“Yes, yes.”

The Nix concentrated on pouring her demonic strength into Agnes’s arms. That was all the woman required from her. When it came to resolve, she was already overflowing with it.

The blade swung down, and the vagrant’s head rolled to the side, eyes still closed. Hadn’t even woken up. What was the fun in that? But that was one reason Agnes insisted on beheading—it was quick and merciful.

Agnes set about working on the body.

“This time they will pay attention,” Agnes whispered aloud.

“As I’ve said before, if you want them to pay attention, you have to kill more than petty criminals and vagrants, Agnes. Now, if you took a nice girl from a wealthy family…maybe the daughter of the mayor or the head of—”

“That is not the point,” Agnes snarled. “The point is this…”

Her hand swept across the festering wound that was the landscape surrounding the Cuyahoga River. Blast furnaces and mills squatted like ogres, belching black smoke. The stink of sulfur was so strong the Nix knew she’d be smelling it on Agnes for days, long after she’d returned to her little house and scrubbed the filth of Kingsbury Run from her skin.

“It’s a disgrace,” Agnes said, as she gestured toward the rusted shacks of Hobotown. “A national disgrace. They come here from everywhere, lured by the promise of work. They leave their homes, their families, because they want a job, to work hard, make a living, and contribute to society. And how does society treat them? Tells them there are no jobs. Grinds their self-worth into the dust. And then, when they’re too humiliated by failure to return home, it gives them this—this hell to live in.”

The Nix started to respond, but Agnes was on a roll, her audience forgotten.

“They leave them here, in conditions not fit for dogs, in the very shadow of that.” She pointed to a skyscraper that rose above the squalor, sparkling in the moonlight. “The Terminal Tower. One of the tallest buildings in the world. Such an accomplishment.” Her lip curled. “A monument indeed—to the greed of America, lording it over these poor souls, forever taunting them with what they will never have.”

The Nix waited another moment to make sure Agnes was done. “But still, killing them doesn’t seem to be helping.”

“It will. Mark my words. Soon the blind shall see. Even that arrogant boy shall see.”