Alister
Stanley's mansion soirée will take place on the evening of May 15th.
The fact that we'll only need to infiltrate in disguises, locate the Healer's goblet, and quickly get out means we won't be staying in the city for long. The distance from Seattle to Spokane is roughly 4 hours. While we might not need to stay for the night on May 14th, we do need a short rest when we reach there before preparing for the party.
That meant booking a hotel for a few hours to "freshen up," as Zach put it—though he hadn't even driven because of his poor skills, and I didn't want to risk my car crashing before we even reached the city.
If it were up to me, I would have driven straight there, arrived just in time for the party, and left without a pause—anything to avoid staying under one roof with…someone annoying.
Yet, as I stand, balancing a cloaked birdcage in one hand and Clara's shopping bags in the other, staring up at the red gates of the hotel a few feet away, glinting in the afternoon sun, I realize my petty worries about close proximity were secondary at best.
The main problem...is getting these imbeciles inside the building.
"Alister! You have to try this!" Steph exclaims, coming out of another restaurant with something new in her hand. I'm starting to wonder if this is her first time eating food. Because we arrived here 20 minutes ago and she keeps stopping to try everything.
A flash of a camera brings my attention to Clara, who is in the middle of striking a pose with one hand cinched over the belt of her rose-printed, flared skirt, and the other perched atop her straw hat. Colourful shopping bags hanging on her arms. Simon, as her designated photographer, turns in awkward angles to get the best shot.
But this isn't even the worst...
The crow in the cage moves again. Just as impatient as me.
"Hold on for a few more minutes." I snap at it. Besides Simon, none of them knows anything about him other than the fact that I'm using his ability to control crows. While killing it would have been the safer choice, I can see potential in it as my pawn. It already proved useful in Clara's kidnapping.
I've wanted to stay discreet, in case we grab the wrong kind of attention. The crows swarm me wherever I go, forcing me to always have a mask on. Even now in this crowded place.
"Thank you, beautiful people! This song was a favorite of my late mother's! God bless her soul!"
And of course, the reason for this crowd is Zach. This was absolutely no time to join a bunch of street performers and start singing just to relive your old highschool days.
"I'm going in now. Do whatever the hell you all want." I bellowed, voice cutting through the street noise. The words barely left my mouth before I realized: yes, I hated this. The feeling of being a reluctant shepherd, dragging along a herd of insufferable idiots who refused to follow instructions, was exactly as unpleasant as I had imagined.
If only we were alone and I could pull out my knives on them.
"Wait! Wait, we're coming!" Steph calls out, and I hear the sound of footsteps behind me, joined by Simon's uneven stride.
The two surge ahead, laughing over snacks. Zach waved off his latest group of admirers before sprinting to catch up with them.
"Try to loosen up a little. There are still hours before the party and we're already prepared for everything."
I glance down to see Clara walking beside me, with an easy smile. A direct challenge to every instinct I had cultivated to keep her at arm's length. I try not to focus on the thick amount of foundation on her right cheek, where I know she's hiding a mark. My suspicions were correct when Lily confirmed it.
I'm not sure what argument ensued between her and her parents when she announced she'd be going to the Stanley's party as her family's representative, since it didn't happen in the study room where the listening device is, but it seems those bastards really will come up with anything to hurt her.
"So, listen," she starts, snapping me out of my thoughts before I reach the point where I want to strangle someone. "I wanted to buy these cool friendship rings for everyone, but they only had two left." She hands me a delicate rose-gold ring engraved with a crescent moon. My eye catches a similar one on her ring finger. One with a sun engraved in the same style. "You can have the second one." she says softly, offering it like it's nothing, but I can feel the weight of the gesture.
It's a miracle I don't trip, because my head suddenly feels light. Does she take me for a fool? These are clearly couple rings.
I want to call her out on it. To snarl at the sheer audacity, to demand she explain herself. But my mouth feels dry, and a lump in my throat, along with a realization, stops the words from coming out; If I protest, she might take it back and give it to someone else.
"What is it? You don't want it? Are we not friends?" The liar asks with her brows knitting in concern as she bats her lashes at me.
But the slight twitch of her lips wanting to smirk, wearing the same infuriating shade that will forever scar me, betrays her. She knows exactly what she's doing and is playing innocent again.
"It's fine. You already bought it." I mumble, letting her win.
"You're too easy." Leora whispers into my ear. Shut up, witch.
"Hey," Clara begins, clasping her hands behind her back as she leans in to whisper like she's about to tell me a secret. I already have a hint of what's about to come out of her mouth from that look in her eyes. "What would happen if there aren't enough beds? like how it happens in books and movies when two people are forced into one."
You little creep.
"Oh, you don't need to worry about such…inconveniences," I reply with a smirk, walking through the hotel gates. The others are already at the elevator, chatting and holding the key card. "I double-checked everything. Made sure it's comfortable and…accommodating for all of us. Everything is separated by gender, so you don't stress about it."
Her lips now press into a tight line. "Crisis averted, huh? Aren't we so lucky to have you." Her eyes narrow as I try not to laugh. she crossed her arms, silently scolding me for crushing the little daydream she'd just allowed herself.
◇...........🗡........◇
The suite smelled faintly of polish and stale air freshener, like the staff had sprayed too much to mask whatever lingered before us. Two bedrooms branched off from the main space—one with a pair of neat twin beds, the other lined with three narrower frames.
The carpet was plush but worn in places, and a coffee table sat in front of a flat screen bolted to the wall. I pulled the brown curtains shut on the windows. Privacy first. Always privacy first.
Simon dropped onto the couch with a grunt, his oversized backpack landing like a sack of bricks. He looked exhausted after being ordered around by Clara.
"Simon, find a place where we can get the staff uniforms," I say firmly, leaving no room for his usual whining. His groan drags against the air anyway.
"Zach, order us takeout. And Steph—"
The words died on my tongue as a violent flapping shatters the calm. The crow in the cage starts beating its wings aggressively against the bars.
"What's wrong with it?" Clara asked, her brow furrowing. All of them stared at the cage as though the bird's panic might explain itself.
I clicked my tongue and pulled away the black drape. Even as a bird, it glared at me with those beady grey eyes. Around its leg, the attached device blinked red.
The lid clicked open under my hand, and the creature didn't hesitate. It shot upward in a dark blur, wings slicing the air as it searched for an escape that didn't exist.
Everyone ducked, swearing, with arms over their heads.
I fished into my pocket, pulling out the circular controller Simon had built. The device whirred as I pressed a button and the red light on the bird's leg froze into a steady crimson.
He dropped like a stone. Hitting the carpet with wings jerking, and its body wracked in ugly spasms in a pathetic state.
Clara rushes and sinks to her knees beside it. Hair falling forward as her hands scoop it up with a gentleness that felt painfully misplaced. Staring at it with the worry he does not deserve.
"Why would you do that?" She snaps, staring at me in disbelief as she holds up the creature. "You gagged it for hours, and now you electrocute it?"
The crow lifts its head with visible effort and, as if purposely adding to my frustration, presses the side of its head against her palm, gently nuzzling.
Manipulative little parasite.
"Clara, that's a grown man." I finally reveal.
She drops the bird like it burned her and stumbles back, distancing herself from it. Steph practically doubles over, choking on laughter.
A sharp gasp breaks from Zach as the crow begins to move. They all take a collective step back as the creature twists in place, limbs unfurling where wings had been. Legs bend, arms stretch, and the body warps into human proportions in a grotesque, seamless ripple.
Within seconds, kneeling on the floor, is a man.
Tangled black hair pours down his shoulders and back. His body, olive and damp with sweat, is covered in faint scars. The silver choker clings to his throat, and the device still clamped to his ankle flashes red. The gag hasn't vanished either. Instead, it's grown with him—now stretched tightly around his mouth, the dark leather biting into his cheeks.
His grey eyes shoot me a murderous glare like he wants to rip me apart, then he fumbles for the gag. When I don't stop him, he yanks it off with a breathless grunt and throws it away.
The moment it's gone, he catches Clara staring—and grins devilishly.
"Hello, sweetness."
The way his grin vanishes and he clenches his teeth while his muscles tense makes me realize I've accidentally pressed the button again.
Clara simply blinks, then smirks as she looks up at me. "So this is what you've been up to? Chasing naked men down the streets?"
Steph's lips curl. "Gorgeous men, you mean." Her eyes drag slowly over the man, and he rolls his eyes, like this is nothing new.
I drag a hand down my face, patience wearing thinner than the carpet under our shoes. "Can you not say it like that?"
The man lifts his chin and flashes a sly smile. "He didn't just chase me. He even—"
His sentence cuts off into a strangled cry as he collapses to his side, body spasming violently. The ankle device lights up as I press the button again. He never learns. Or maybe he wasn't kidding about telling us he enjoys pain.
"Quiet, Lev." I warn.
He trembles trying to sit back up and glares up at me through strands of his hair. "It's Crow."
"Your name," I answer coldly, "is whatever I call you." In all honesty, I don't care about naming things, but Lev being short for leverage seemed very fitting. Disposable utility.
The man—Lev—doesn't argue. Instead, he slowly turns his face back towards Clara with another look that makes my blood boil.
"Possessive, isn't he?" He whispers amusingly.
A laugh erupts from her mouth before she presses her lips to suppress it.
I try not to let it bother as I step forward, sliding the device back into his pocket. "You may have already guessed. He's part of the artifact hunters. An enemy."
Lev doesn't flinch at the label. He just lies there. Idly dragging a finger through the floor like he's doodling.
"We will use him. As you saw, he can order the other crows, like their leader." I continue, ignoring the raised brows around me. "While he might not give us details about his organization due to everyone working there being bound by contracts, he can still help. Clear the way when needed, create distractions, keep watch from above—basic support work."
"But why get him involved and risk everything?" Zach asks, leaning against the wall.
My gaze flicks back to Lev, watching him. "I'm keeping him as a sort of tool or leverage."
I then explain that I believe someone has been secretly observing us. Not the group of men that captured Clara, but an old acquaintance of Leora's, affiliated with the organization but working alone. He has shown up at key moments, like with the robber Keith when he stole away the gems and sold them to the blackmarket dealer and Samuel, the dealer's younger brother, who ran away with the gems and sold them to an antique owner. How I suspect the man is waiting for us to fail or die from the gem curse so he can swoop in and take the artifacts for himself. I believe this person might try to interfere with the missions—either by sabotaging them or slowing them down.
"And with his ability, we might be able to smoke out the stalker before he ruins everything—or delays us long enough for the curse to finish the job."
Steph scoffs. "So what, you really trust him to behave himself?"
My eyes drift towards Lev. "If he values his life, he will."
He knows better than to test me. If the dead bodies of his comrades—both the human kidnappers and the crows he commanded against me—mean nothing to him, then survival is all that matters to him. A man like that can be bent, as long as he believes the cost of resistance is his own skin.
At that, Lev shifts slightly. His hand drifts to his side, and though his hair veils most of him, I catch the glimpse of red where his fingers clutch his skin.
Stitches.
Clara notices it, and I can see the shock and horror in her eyes as the implication dawns on her and predictable questions swirl in her mind.
Something like, did he really place an explosive inside him? Could he really do such a thing? I thought I knew him better.
"There are a million ways this could go wrong." She mutters reasonably. Well, if her mind has reached that point, I'm sure it'll be a matter of time before she understands what I'm trying to do.
One can never be too prepared for contingencies.
"Listen to her." Leora voices again. "There are far more disadvantages to keeping him alive. It won't take long for him to think of a way to trick you."
"Not to worry, everything will go as planned." I answer to everyone before picking up the cage again. "Now that this is over, transform back and get in."
Lev's mouth twists as if he's about to bite into a lemon. "Absolutely not. Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that gag is? I've been stuck like that for hours. My jaw's still sore. Honestly, isn't this animal abuse?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Back. In. The cage. I won't ask you again."
He sighs dramatically, as though I've just ruined his favorite game, but starts shifting anyway into that unsettling bird form.
And that's when I notice Clara watching me. Her eyes narrow, sharp with suspicion. She's already pieced it together—that I don't really need him gagged when we're indoors, not when there's no one else around to hear.
Unless there's something I don't want him to say. Which means, once again, she's wondering what I'm hiding.