Alister
The elevator chimed as it opened onto the quiet hallway. My shoes hit the carpet, triggering the motion-sensor lights overhead. They blinked on one by one, stretching a path of fluorescence to my apartment door like a spotlight on my growing irritation.
The pictures Steph had sent me flash into my mind. Her, sprawled across my bed. Zach, helping himself to snacks from my kitchen. Smiling. Relaxed. Feeling right at home.
The keypad glowed as I punched in the code, the soft beeping of the pad mocking me.
I swing the door wide open. The air was heavier with a familiar citrus perfume.
"Ah, look who's back." Steph drawled, her voice practically dripping with amusement. She was lounging on the couch in her plum hoodie, with one leg lazily thrown over the armrest, a smug grin on her face.
Zach, dressed in a white shirt, stares in confusion while sitting on the floor with the cat, scratching behind its ears.
I stop in my tracks. "What the hell are you two doing in here?"
She simply yawns in response. "You really need to stop locking your door so tight, Alister."
Zach, ever the one to try to smooth things over, grinned awkwardly. "We just came to see the cat, man."
The traitor, upon spotting me, springs up from his lap and trots over like nothing was wrong in the world, brushing against my shoes and purring. I closed the door behind me, pulse hot in my ears. I wasn't in the mood to forgive anyone today—not even the furry ones.
"And that reason justifies you breaking into my house and touching my stuff?" I demanded, locking eyes with Steph.
Zach froze, his expression shifting from confused to horrified. He turns to face her, brows raised. "Wait—did you lie about Alister being okay with us hanging out in his apartment while he was gone?"
She pops a chip into her mouth, chewing leisurely before responding. "He is cool with it. He just likes pretending he isn't. "She looks back at me. "thinks it adds to his appeal or whatever. Oh to be young."
My hand drops the satchel by the door with more force than necessary. She thinks she can say and do whatever she wants just because she's a year older than me.
Zach starts rising to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, dude. I had no idea. I'll—"
"It's fine," Stephanie interrupts, waving him down with one hand. "He's just—"
I don't let her finish. I cross the room in two strides, grabbing her firmly by the arm, and yanking her off the couch. She let out a small yelp, but I'm already dragging her towards the hallway.
"Give us a moment, Zach."
I don't wait for a reply before pulling her into my bedroom and shutting the door behind us.
"Just what do you think you're doing!?" I snap at her.
She plants herself against the dresser, arms folded. "Calm down. Zach said he missed the cat, and since you weren't home, I figured we'd just hang for a bit. What's the big deal?"
"I never gave you permission to do that. And I meant the picture, Stephanie! The one with the bag of knives. Did you seriously open all that stuff in front of him? I know you're childhood friends, but are you insane?"
Her smirk vanished like a flipped switch. "Do you really think I'm an idiot?" she snapped. "I didn't flaunt it in front of him. I took everything out, snapped a quick photo for you, and put it all back exactly how it was. Zach didn't see a thing."
I sigh and drag a hand down my face. "All I wanted was some peace and quiet."
Steph scoffed like I'd just complained about a champagne shortage. "Relax. It's not like we were throwing a rave." She started counting off on her fingers. "We fed the cat and the snake. Vacuumed. Ate some chips. Had some—wait!"
She calls as she sees me leaving, my hand on the doorknob, ready to get away from her nonsense.
Her eyes drop to the side of my shirt.
"Where were you?" she asks. "Your shirt's torn."
I glance down, and there it was—just a faint rip near the seam. A leftover from the fight in that basement.
"I was nowhere." I say flatly. "And that's all you need to know."
She just stared at me, her lips pressed together in a tight line.
"You've been very secretive these days. More than usual. And you're not really focused on our work either." She leaned in just a bit. "You won't even tell me what you've been up to."
Her eyes flickered with something sharper now. "It wouldn't be hard to get someone to follow you, you know. Find out exactly what you've been doing when you're 'nowhere.'"
She takes another step forward. "The only reason I'm not doing that is because of our friendship—oh, I'm sorry," she says sarcastically. "partnership. Isn't that right?"
I hold her gaze, my own expression hardening slightly, unwilling to give anything away. "Yes." I say, "That's right."
I turn and walk out of the room, while she follows me behind. But the moment we step into the living room, my blood runs cold.
Zach stood beside the snake's tank, flipping through the artifact book with far too much curiosity. My satchel lay open on the floor, two knives spilling out.
He looks up at me with that crooked grin he always uses when he is about to die and doesn't even know it. "Okay, so, before you yell—hear me out. The cat was clawing at your bag. I was trying to save your stuff. Thought it was just notebooks or maybe snacks." Steph was already moving, curiosity tugging her forward like a leash. She looks at the book too.
He glances back down as he continues. "But then I saw this, and now I'm wondering… what the heck is this, Alister?"
My entire body stilled like the moment before a wire snaps. Then, I took a step forward. And another.
"And what about the knives?" He adds, eyes narrowing just as he gestures toward the satchel.
"Put it down."
Zach's grin falters as he looks at me. Steph looked between us, sensing something had shifted. "Alister?"
I stop just short of the couch. My shadow stretched across the floor. "Give it to me. I'll tell you about it."
Zach looked from the book to me, his fingers hovering near the cover. "This seems… really precious to you." He says thoughtfully.
Steph's eyes sharpened with that spark I'd seen a hundred times before—mischief laced with challenge. In one smooth motion, she snatched the book from Zach's hands, stepping back with it like she'd just pulled the pin from a grenade.
"Stephanie." I warn her.
She holds the book close, cocking her head. "Are you willing to fight for it?"
Worry flashes in Zach's eyes. "Oh, please don't start going at each others throats again."
"I am in no mood for your games." I reply coldly, eyes locked on hers.
She catches the look I give her—the unspoken one. Don't do this. Not in front of him. Don't make me do what I always do.
"Hand it over." I say again, quieter this time. "And I'll explain everything."
But I could already see it on her face—that hint of bitterness curdling under her smile. Our conversation from earlier still lingered like smoke in her mind. The one that gave her the impression that she won't be receiving any true answers from my lips. Only deflection and lies.
Her fingers tightened around the spine like she was daring me to try something. I keep my voice even. "It's just something I found at an abandoned house."
Stephanie cocked her head, her smirk returning with cruel delight. "Geez, I wonder what you might be doing there. And with whom specifically, seeing as I can practically smell her off of you."
I suddenly hear Helena's voice from behind me before I can even reply. "What are you doing!? Get it from her. Before that crazy one does anything."
My jaw tightens, and I glare at her.
She sees it. And her smirk widens like she had just won a game she hadn't even been playing.
I move toward her.
She raises the book slightly like a shield, and then, in one swift move, she turns and tosses it.
"Catch!" she calls to Zach.
He blinks in surprise as he's holding the cat. The book heads straight for the tank behind him. Ready to crush Finch under it.
Time fractured.
I didn't think. My hand came up instinctively, power humming through me like a snapped circuit. My nails glowed silver—so did my eyes—and the book froze midair, inches from the glass.
Zach stumbled backward, nearly tripping as the cat dropped from his hands. Even Stephanie stood frozen.
No one spoke.
Both of them were staring at me like I'd just pulled my face off to reveal something alien underneath.
I slowly place the book on top of the refrigerator, far from careless hands and idiotic reflexes. My eyes didn't leave Zach's—until I saw movement in the corner of my eye.
"You…"
Stephanie's voice was low and feral.
I turned just in time for her to crash into me. The impact knocked the breath out of my lungs as my back slammed hard against the wall. One of my knives—the ones from my satchel—was already at my throat, the tip slicing into skin and drawing a thin line of blood.
"You're one of them, aren't you?" She hissed, eyes locked like a predator's. "Say it. Say you are."
"Stephanie! What did I just say!" Zach shouts, rushing forward.
"Don't!" she snaps, eyes never leaving mine. "Stay back! He's one of those people I told you about. The ones that disappear into the dark. The ones that make others disappear."
Zach freezes mid-step. His gaze flickers between us, between the blood at my throat and the madness in her eyes. "Steph, what—?"
"He's going to kill us!" she yells. "We found out, and now he has to make sure we stay quiet!"
"What... what are you even—" I start to say, until I felt the blade dig deeper.
That gleam in her eye—that glint—wasn't fear. It wasn't defense. It was delight. The same glimmer I'd seen in murderers. In predators. In myself.
Power coiled beneath my skin. Another knife sailed into my hand from across the room.
And then I slammed my forehead into hers.
She reeled back a step, dazed, and the blade left my throat. I drive my blade up between us, holding it out like a warning.
But Steph didn't hesitate. She swung her weapon again, and our blades clashed, steel shrieking against steel. Her grin split her face. That sound was music to her.
"Get ahold of yourself!" I shouted, anger seeping through.
"It makes sense now!" she yells. "Everything! You, your secrets—"
I clicked my tongue and braced against the wall. I pulled my leg up, driving my foot square into her stomach. The air rushed out of her lungs as she staggered back, doubled over, but never lost the blade.
She looked up again with wild eyes. Her grip tightened on the handle like it was the only thing tethering her to earth.
"Oh." She whispered. "So now you fight."
"This is insane." I start stepping toward her, blade raised in defense. I need answers right now. "What did you mean when—"
But she doesn't let me finish.
She bolts at me again, knife high.
I raise mine to meet hers until Zach throws himself between us.
He tackles Steph to the ground, the sound of their bodies crashing into the floor rattling the air. He yanks the knife from her grip and pins her down with an urgency I'd never seen in him before—knees dug into the carpet, arms shaking as he held her still.
"Enough!" He shouts. His voice tore through the room like a whipcrack, freezing the moment in place. Stephanie blinked up at him, startled—not by the force, but by him.
His usual soft-eyed warmth was gone.
Replaced by a chill that cut deeper than any blade we'd just drawn.
"What the hell is wrong with you two!? You're acting like wild dogs." Then he stood. Slowly, breathing like he'd just sprinted through a nightmare.
Steph scrambles up after him, face flushed, chest rising and falling with rapid breath. I lower my blade but don't let go.
"You two…" His voice trembled—not with fear, but with revulsion. "You two are disgusting." His lip curled as he looked at us like we weren't people anymore—just things. Filthy, broken things.
Which honestly wouldn't be far from the truth.
He lets out a breath and runs a hand through his thick brown hair.
"You're going to sit down." He says. "You're going to talk, like human beings. No more blades. No more lunging at each other like psychos."
He turns sharply to Steph. "And if it's violence you want, then fine. Fight. But fight on safer terms. No weapons."
Zach's knuckles tightened around the knife. "But then I'll be in it too." he adds darkly.
He stared at it—at the same blade she'd held to my throat—and without another word, he grabbed both ends and bent it.
The metal groaned under pressure, then snapped clean down the middle. A harsh, ugly sound. Like bone breaking.
He drops the halves onto the floor. "Do I make myself clear?"
It wasn't a question. It was a warning.
How irritating...
It would only take a flick of my finger. One twitch, and a blade could drive itself clean into Zach's throat. Two seconds, tops, and all that self-righteous bravado would spill out with his blood. Did he really think he could intimidate me?
Still, I exhale and let the tension slide from my fingers. "Fine." The knife clattered to the ground as I dropped it, but my eyes stayed locked on Stephanie's.
I could feel it crawling under my skin—the urge to kill them both and be done with it. Clean. Efficient. But… they might know something. Something useful. And depending on what that is… maybe they could be used.
Steph's gaze dropped. Her fingers uncurled from the air like she'd just realized how tightly she'd been holding them. She gives a small nod.
That's how these two have always been from what I've seen. If not for Zach stopping her from acting out all the time, this delinquent would be in jail.
Then, as if a switch had been flipped in the back of his skull, Zach claps his hands together.
"There we go!" He says with a blinding grin. "See? No need for knives or glowing eyeballs. We just talk. Communicate." He turns on his heel toward the kitchen. "I'm gonna make us some green tea."
"I want beer." Stephanie muttered.
"I don't have any." I remind her.
"I brought my own." She walks to the fridge, yanking the door open and grabbing a can from inside. After that, she flops down onto the couch, taking a long sip.
I grab tissues from the counter and press them to the cut on my neck.
Are you ever going to give me a chance to patch you up, too?
I try to ignore those words, followed by images of warm hands touching my neck as I walk to the couch and slump down next to her.
Feeling the cat brush against my leg, I reach down and push it away. "You can eat my corpse when I die, but not today."
Stephanie rests her feet on my clean coffee table. She sees me glaring, rolls her eyes, and puts her foot down. "What did you mean… one of them?" I ask after a moment.
Her eyes flicker up to mine, sharp again. "You're really not?"
I shake my head.
She stares at me, searching, like she doesn't believe it. Then she sighed and looked down at the can in her hand.
"Years ago," she begins, "when I was just a kid… I saw something I shouldn't have. Something no kid should've seen." She pauses. "There were people. A group of them from some organization. All dressed differently, but they had these… things. Strange things. Objects that let them do things. Magical things."
"Artifacts." I say under my breath.
She shrugs. "I suppose. One of them looked like something from that book." She glanced at the refrigerator, as if the book were still visible. "They were attacking a man. He had something they wanted—some kind of key, I think. He didn't want to give it up."
"And they killed him."
"Yeah. Just like that. Took it and walked away like it meant nothing. I was hiding, trying not to scream. I thought they'd leave…"
She takes a swing of her drink. "But one of them saw me. While the others were distracted, this guy—he was wearing a fox mask—looked right at me. I thought I was dead. But he just knelt, put a finger to his lips, and motioned for me to stay quiet."
"He let you go?"
Her hand clenched the can a little harder. "Yeah. Never told the others. Just… let me go. I ran and never looked back."
Why would he let her go?
The thought lodges deep in my mind like a splinter I can't quite reach. It doesn't make sense. If they were willing to kill a man in cold blood for some kind of key, why not a child who saw it all?
Witnesses are still liabilities. Children grow up. They remember.
If I were in his place, I would've silenced her. But he didn't.
Loose ends get tied up. That's how these kinds of people operate. Unless… maybe he wanted her to live. Maybe he wanted her to remember.
A warning, dressed as mercy.
Whatever it was, they never came back for her. Never checked to see if she kept her silence. That almost unsettles me more.
"Sorry about your neck, by the way. I got carried away." She smiles innocently, batting her lashes. "I just saw an opportunity to fight you, and my body instinctively followed."
I keep my face blank as I look away, not caring the least bit about her half-baked apology.
"Alister!" Zach calls from the kitchen. "It's your turn."
I close my eyes for a second. Of course it is.
Steph leans forward. She looks like she already knows what I'm going to say, and she's just daring me to try spinning it any other way. "And don't even think about lying," she says. "I'll follow you for sure now. I'll get the truth myself if I have to."
She would. She will.
I groan, already feeling the weight of the conversation before it even begins. "If I tell you everything, will you leave me alone?"
But I know the answer.
Stephanie doesn't let things go. Not when she smells something rotten under the surface. And now that she's caught the scent, she won't stop. She'll dig. She'll assign someone to watch me. Someone smarter than she lets on. Someone I might not see coming.
And if they find out what Clara and I have been doing—if they learn what we've done…
Steph raises her can like she's toasting to something. "I swear it."
Like that makes her trustworthy.
It doesn't.
But I nod anyway.
◇...............🗡...............◇
I've sat through stakeouts in broken-down cars during snowstorms. Been locked in a closet with a corpse for an hour because a certain maniac partner forgot the extraction signal. I've fought off drunk guys twice my size outside a run-down bar. I've been held at gunpoint, only to talk my way out by convincing the guy that I was the one who had the money.
I've been in many absurd situations. None of it fazed me. None of them made me second-guess my next move.
But if someone had told me I'd ever end up in this situation, I wouldn't have laughed. I would've broken their nose.
And yet—here I was.
Perched on a thick tree branch like a fool. Fingers curled tight around the wet bark, trying not to slip on it as I brace one knee against the ledge. The branch groans under my weight, and I narrow my eyes at the pale curtain behind the glass.
Things wouldn't be this uncomfortable if the goal was just to murder.
Maybe there was another way. A less...unconventional method. But this is the best time and safest way to get it over with.
I adjusted my grip and knocked. But no movement.
I knock again, harder this time. And finally, a warm glow lights the edge of the curtain. A lamp, probably.
I knock once more to confirm my presence.
Stay focused, Alister. You have one goal here, and you need to carry it out perfectly.
Curtains rustled. Then, finally, they slid aside, and the window creaked open with a reluctant sound.
Stay focused...
Wait...On what, exactly?
It seems whatever I was supposed to be focusing on burned away like paper in flame.
Sleep-warm and half-awake, she blinks in surprise and confusion as if still caught in a dream. Which in her case are usually nightmares. Rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, her hair cascaded down past her waist in a wild tangle of gold. The red silk camisole she wore along with matching shorts that ended at her mid-thighs, shimmered faintly in the lamplight behind her.
Her voice, when she finally spoke, sounded like it had been dipped in warmth and sand.
"…Alister?" She blinked at me like she wasn't sure if I was real.
Honestly, I wasn't sure either.
My eyes dipped for a second, maybe less, before I forced them to her bare face and glued them there.
Which wasn't any better, as the glare on her very awake face could've cut glass.
Clara stood there, arms against the frame, blocking the entire entrance, refusing to move, and now I didn't know where to look. I was running out of safe directions.
"Wanting to enter a girl's room in the middle of the night, not informing me you were coming, not even bothering with a text or telling me what you were planning," she says, unimpressed. "All that I can forgive, but…" Her lips curled into an amusing smirk.
"You didn't even dress like a vampire. How disappointing."
My brain lags half a second behind her words until I cleared my throat. "Move. It's urgent."
She raised a brow, like I'd just said something deeply offensive. But, with an exaggerated sigh, she stepped aside and gestured toward the room behind her.
I climbed through the window, landing on the plush carpet that muffled the sound of my shoes. I pause just to regain some composure.
Everything was soft, gleaming, and utterly cluttered. White furniture trimmed with gold detailing lined the walls—curved vanity table, a dresser stacked with jewelry boxes, and the tiniest glass perfume bottles of different shapes and colors. There was a painting of a crown and a marble rabbit statue perched on the coffee table.
Her bed was a massive thing, velvet pillows and fluffy throws spilling everywhere in layers of cream, blush, and lilac.
There was something so aggressively… her about all of it. Every inch of this space screamed Clara in full volume.
It made my skin prickle and my stomach twist. I need to stay level-headed. There was a reason I came here.
And I need to focus on that.