Page 101 of Quiet Burn

This stuff is good to add to the arsenal, so I take a few pictures with my phone, then replace everything exactly as I found it. The cabinet was mildly interesting, but there has to be more to keep my idiotic blackmail victim on the hook. I’ve been using bluffs up until now. That won’t work forever, and this trip is meant to find physical or digital shit I can hold over the pompous fuckwit indefinitely.

Rubbing my hands together, I open the laptop on the desk. I’m not bad with tech because of my skill set, but I learned a long time ago that getting help from the truly gifted is much easier than fumbling on my own. To that end, I pull out the flash drive Zav made for me in middle school that is chock full of viruses and codes that work to unlock computer systems. Sliding it into the port, I wait for it to begin the sequences, then turn my attention to the desk itself.

“Pretty fancy looking furniture for a professor.”

My magic skims over the surfaces of a design that I’m fairly certain is made by some hoity-toity name in Hell. Annie would know who made this without pause, but I’m less concerned about labels on things like furniture than him. Jewelry and such—that I know easily because I’m often asked to steal that sort of pocketable shit. Assessing value is important to priceconsideration; demons love to lie when your fees are based on item resale value and complexity of the job. Knowing my worth is what fills the coffers of my personal and family accounts.

A soft whirring sound tells me the hard drive for the computer is being engaged and I smile as I drop to my knees so I can check out underneath the desk. The saturated stench of sex fills my nostrils and I rear back, making a face at the obvious implications of that discovery. Wormwood is playing at being a big deal with this little fantasy and that knowledge is also quite valuable. It’s fresh enough to be noticeable , but not so much that I pick up exactly which boys or professors he’s managed to squeeze into that small space.

“Randy fuck is probably taking blowies for grades,” I mutter as I inhale a breath of clean air then dive back under while I hold it. The space is tight and there’s definitely stains on his Berber, that I wish I weren’t touching, but after a minute of searching, I don’t find a hidden compartment. When I pull back, I let the breath go and suck another moderately clean one in. “Damn that sucked. I need to bring a fucking mask with me if I have to come back.”

I crawl out from behind his big chair, moving along the outside of the thick wooden furniture. My fingers dance over the surface as well as my powers, searching for the catch that isboundto be here somewhere. I know there’s a spot because demons love this kind of shit, butalso, the damn dimensions of the thing are off in comparison to my mental calculations. Even factoring in drawer spaces and hardware, I know this piece of shit is hiding a secret treasure in his seated pleasure palace.

After a few minutes of crawling around like an imp, I finally find what I’m looking for in the curvature of a flourish on the front panel. Grinning wickedly, I activate the release and sit back on my haunches when the entire front opens like I said ‘sesame’.Obviously, the space for legs underneath is so tiny because of this interesting little cabinet. Scooting closer, I mutter an incantation to make certain I’m not tripping a magical security spell by touching the contents. It fizzles immediately and I snort.

What a fucking idiot. Wormwood teaches casting classes and doesn’t protect even his hidden shit with magic.

“No wonder this dickwaffle is stuck teaching at a university. He’s as useless as tits on a minotaur.”

Smirking at my own clever insult, I examine the objects in the cabinet. There are a few jars that I assume have potions, gases, or salves in them. They aren’t labeled and I’m not stupid enough to open them to find out what they contain. I can come back for this shit later when I have gear to protect myself from falling victim to whatever their intent is. I doubt they’re more than shitty love potions or ‘stay hard’ creams, but I’m not betting everyone’s safety on this fucker being a perv.

I squint at the objects on the opposite shelf, studying them with both my physical senses and mystical ones. The statue of the King seems harmless enough, but if it were strictly for ass-kissing it would be on his desktop. It’s stored here for a reason, so I snap a picture of it before continuing to the next item. The crystalline sculpture is adorned with real jewels and precious metals, but I don’t recognize the subject of the piece. It’s very primitive and rough, so the features aren’t distinct, nor is the style. This, I believe to be important, so I take more pictures that I can give to the group. The vibes emanating from it are disconcerting, which is a good indicator of trouble.

The last object is a ring, and the closer I get to it, the worse my gut clenches. It’s filled with symbols I don’t recognize, and the aura is not from Hell. This thing wasn’t made or infused withpower in this realm for sure. I don’t know what it is or does, so again, I snap away for future reference. I’m not sure if any of this will turn out to be blackmail worthy, but I damn sure won’t ignore shit that could bite us in the ass later. It would be irresponsible and I’m far too greedy for the knowledge to be lazy with this job.

One thing remains, and I frown as I consider how to handle it. It’s a book, and to find out what is inside, I’ll have to touch it. Doing so is a gamble, even with the gloves in my pocket. Much like the jars, the damn thing could have spells woven into its construction or use that will sear the presence of my magic into its core, or even harm me for not being the owner.

But no one hides a small, black book inside of a secret compartment that isn’t full of shady shit.

I consider simply swiping it for a moment, but there also could be barrier spells. Magic is extremely specific, intent-driven, and able to hide when necessary in the demon world. I know that my checks could fail when the curse, hex, spell, incantation or any number of vehicles were written by someone with enough knowledge of demon magic to embed traps. That’s why I disassembled the damn camera rather than just destroying it.

“This could tell me what Wormwood is up to with Kit, or even something bigger. Ican’tleave it here without knowing what’s inside.”

Closing my eyes, I murmur a cloaking spell, weaving the skill of my family line into its creation. This works for a great deal of my assignments, but I know it may not accomplish its intent here because I lack the typical prep on a target I would have elsewhere. Once it pops into place, I take a deep breath and grab the book, opening to the first page.

Here goes nothing…

Creep

Kit/Kat

Xerxes gapes at me, but Slash merely grunts. Neither of them stop moving towards the building where Dank’s office is located as I wait for someone to say something. My anxiety spikes and Dottie chitters to get my attention so I don’t fly off the rails. As we climb the stairs, X looks around carefully, then looks at me seriously.

“Kit Kat, youdefinitelycanneversay that to anyone outside of our caliphate. Not even if you’re angry or scared. It’s really important,” they say urgently.

Frowning, I tilt my head, hoping Slash will put in his two cents. He doesn’t, so I address Xerxes. “I haven’t learned anything about that power so far—even in my personal studying.”

“The Fates do not approve.”

The shark shifter’s comment makes me swallow hard. “Because that can undo their… tapestry thingy?”

X nods, then shakes their head. “No. Yes. No. Well, sort of, KK. Those with chronomancy are as rare as necromancy in every species where the skill is possible. The hags aren’t fond of eitherpower as it screws with their shit and fucks with seers. But it’s so much worse if it occurs in someone with demon lineage. It’s basically illegal in Hell.”

Just fucking marvelous—I’m not just a fraud in this school, but the entire realm.

“Would explain why he was hidden.”

Turning to look at Slash, I wrinkle my nose. “Yeah, I suppose so. Not that I give a shit about anyone who abandoned me to that bullshit for my entire life.”

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