1
Witch, outcast, deadperson—according to official records, anyway.
I’m a lot of things.
Including directionally challenged.
That’s really biting me in the ass right at this moment in time.
I’m so close to being done with my job for the day, I can almost taste sweet, sweet freedom. I skid to a stop at my planned exit... or at least I think it’s my planned exit. I jiggle the door handle, ready to get the hell out of here before anyone notices my presence.
Nothing happens. The damn thing is locked.
Dammit. I’ve been in the Moonshadow coven’s house for over an hour already, casing the joint ready for my job tomorrow. So far, I’ve managed to avoid seeing another person the whole time I’ve been here. I’ve had to keep myself cloaked with a thick glamor the entire time. My scent, my image, my damn aura are all blanketed in a thick layer of magic, so I won’t trip any of the wards. The last thing I want to do is trigger them. I can’t afford to alert anyone to my presence, since I’m not supposed to be here.
I pull and push at the door before trying to force a little magic into the handle. I’m hoping that it’s just stuck and maybe a bit of elbow grease will have it flying open any moment.
No such luck.
This particular wood and iron monstrosity does not budge an inch.
Yeah... it’s definitely the wrong door.
Shit.
My heart is pounding already after running around this place. The Moonshadow coven is a mid-tier coven with its residence right in the middle of Arcanum city center, and my mark for this week’s bit of larceny. My client has requested two of the magical artifacts the coven has currently sequestered away. Today’s job is a bit of prep work and reconnaissance before my actual mission. Good thing too, or I’d currently be struggling to get out of a locked door while cloaking the magical signatures of two very powerful objects.
Apparently, the coven used to be larger before it broke in two. When they split, the coven Mother took both artifacts. My client has tried talking things out, but that didn’t work. So here I am with this gig, to find and retrieve the artifacts.
Lucky me.
I’ve got a sweat going since I’ve got my hood pulled all the way up. My armpits are clammy and I can feel sweat dripping and pooling at the small of my back.
No one ever said this job was glamorous.
I can’t afford to mess this up. Things are always tight at home. But after an incident involving me trying to retrieve an illegal dog-slash-chimera mix that had been stolen from its owner, and a fire escape, I sprained my ankle and I’ve been unable to do any hands-on work for weeks. Instead, I got relegated to the boring busy work which doesn’t pay nearly as well.
I need to get out of here. I reckon I have about twenty minutes before my magical batteries go flat. I’m already going to be in desperate need of sugar and caffeine to get me home without passing out on a park bench.
Been there, done that, got pooped on by a pigeon for the privilege.
“Hey, Ember?” I send the thoughts through to my buddy, my pseudo-brother, and fellow outcast. He’s a telepathic whose family kicked him out as soon as they realized the powers he’d manifested. He was ten at the time and spent an entire year on the streets before the rest of us found him. Unsurprisingly, he hates his powers and rarely uses them.
Well, tough titties for him. All of us outcasts and weirdos have a complex relationship with our powers. They’re the reason our society shunned us all.
But right now, I really need him.
“Ember, man. Buddy, ol’ pal, I need a little help here.”
I’m the only person we know who canpushmy thoughts into Ember’s head. I know he hates it when I do, so it’s not something I’ll force him into unless I have to.
“Silver.”His voice growls inside my head and I let out a huffed breath of relief. “You in trouble?”
“My exit is blocked. I need Rook to come up with another route out of this place. Is he with you?”
“Locked door tripping you up? That’s not like you, Silver.”His raspy chuckle is right in my ear, like he’s standing beside me and I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “You sure you didn’t get confused between upstairs and downstairs again?”
These guys might be my bodged-together family, but that doesn’t stop them from being assholes. It’s a running joke that I can do absolutelyanything. I’m a jack-of-all-trades most of the time and my skill set is pretty... diverse.