"Strange." Alicia rubbed her chin, listening to Hamilton's tale, her turquoise eyes glowing faintly with surprise.
"And in less than a second, Immortal Hilda was gone," he concluded, still catching his breath.
"She showed you the golden feather?" Alicia asked, her mind racing to unravel whatever web that cunning Matriarch was spinning.
"Yes," Hamilton replied. Beads of sweat formed across his forehead the moment he noticed the genuine surprise on Alicia's face.
"Does that mean she faked it?" he thought. No… that couldn't be. No one but the Supremes had access to such a relic.
Unless—
The realization struck.
"Unless another Supreme gave it to her behind your backs..." he muttered.
"You truly had no idea about this, Supreme Alicia?" Hamilton leaned forward, rubbing his palms together nervously as he awaited her reply.
"I wouldn't be asking you if I did," Alicia replied flatly.
"Perhaps another Supreme sent her?" Hamilton raised an eyebrow, searching Alicia's gaze—a gaze that made her slightly uneasy.
"Perhaps," Alicia echoed, though she knew that was far from the truth.
"More like... she sent herself," she muttered under her breath. The very thought made her grind her teeth. It was already infuriating how Hilda gave orders from the shadows like some secret queen, and now it seemed she had completely disregarded her promise to stay out of the current generation's affairs.
"We never should've allowed her that damn alias," Alicia thought bitterly.
There was nothing the Supremes could do to stop their "Matriarch."
"I'm guessing that knife is of great value?" Hamilton asked, his voice shaking slightly at the sight of the emotion crossing Alicia's face.
"Yes," she answered, frowning at herself for not having thought ahead—what would Hilda do with such a blade?
"Some ancient myths say it has the power to resurrect a certain vampire queen."
Hamilton paled. The beads of sweat now ran like rivers.
"Blood Rose?" he whispered, as though speaking her name might summon her from the shadows.
"That's the one," Alicia sighed.
"Do not fret, child," she added, staring deep into Hamilton's suddenly withdrawn eyes. "Immortal Hilda was likely sent by Clyde to secure the blade."
"Right as always, my Supreme." Hamilton bowed deeply.
"That'll be all, then." Alicia stood up.
"Permit me to ask one last question, Supreme Alicia?" Hamilton raised a single finger.
Alicia rolled her eyes, already irritated. Every second wasted here gave Hilda more time to carry out whatever plan she had hatched.
"Sorry?" she blinked, surprised she'd spoken her thoughts aloud.
"Never mind." She waved the matter off. "Ask your question."
"I'm just wondering…" Hamilton chose his words carefully, "why haven't the Supremes made any statement about Superintendent Patricia's disappearance?"
"What?" Alicia's gaze darkened instantly, like a cloud passing over a sun.
"We're doing everything in our power to bring back our beloved Superintendent," she said, folding her arms—placing just enough emphasis on 'beloved' to make it sound sarcastic.
"I'm afraid the other mages see it differently."
"They do?" Alicia was quietly grateful she had placed Hamilton among her second eyes and ears.
"Yes. A few are even suggesting the Supremes are taking advantage of Patricia's disappearance."
"Taking advantage how?" Her voice was low now. Dangerous.
"To fight for her position."
"And who are these 'few' making such preposterous claims?" Alicia's fury was carefully concealed, but Hamilton would be a fool to miss the rising tension.
"A faction led by Immortal Rank Gyr," he whispered—though whispering inside Alicia's sound barrier spell was redundant.
"Gyr of yesterday," Alicia muttered. "Of course."
"How didn't I see this coming?" She sighed. "That bastard's always wanted to replace Wulfe."
A bastard replacing an even bigger bastard.
Alicia almost retched at the thought.
"Very well." She turned from him, her boots clicking against the polished floor as she dispelled the sound barrier and approached the white birch door.
"Truly grateful for your assistance."
"It was my pleasure." Hamilton bowed once more, his gaze lingering on the closed door—his emotions unreadable.
Elsewhere...
"As if I didn't already have enough problems," Alicia sighed, moving down the corridor with unnatural speed.
She had one destination in mind.
"You've got to be kidding me." Bethran frowned at the white slip of paper in his hand.
Ancient Myths and Mysteries by Hilda Locksworth
Page 45, Line 6.
"A book?" he scoffed, crumpling the paper in his fist as he headed for the only bookstore in Elyria that might stock something so rare.
One hour later...
Bethran stood outside a small bookshop owned by one of the few people in Elyria he could barely tolerate.
CLING!
The bell jingled as the door opened.
"Nice to see you, Bethran," said a short, brown-eyed man behind the counter. Gerald's toothy grin revealed a few missing spots.
"Never thought I'd see you in a room full of paper—let alone books," he chuckled, much to Bethran's irritation.
"Long time no see, Gerald." Bethran's nose wrinkled. There was a scent here...
"Someone from our Order was here recently," he said with a knowing smile.
"Yes," Gerald said too quickly. "Someone from the Claw."
"Claw?" Bethran raised an eyebrow. "Leo's from the Fang."
Liar.
Bethran didn't need a book to know Gerald was hiding something.
"Assassin business, huh?" Gerald deflected with a wave, trying to seem casual.
But Bethran's senses had improved greatly. Only the Midnights and Leo knew just how far.
"He's trying to hide Leo's visit." Bethran's sharp eyes didn't leave Gerald.
"Anything I can help you with?" Gerald asked with forced cheer.
"Yes," Bethran grinned. He'd probe deeper later.
"I need a certain book."
Gerald nearly laughed. Two assassins from the Order of Night had come looking for books in the same week?
Bethran, though, wasn't here for a favor.
"What kind?" Gerald asked.
"Ancient Myths and Mysteries by Hilda…" Bethran scratched his head.
"Locksworth," Gerald completed with a smirk.
"Yes, that one."
"A classic." Gerald launched into a monologue about historical myth authors.
"Hold it right there!" Bethran raised a hand before his ears started bleeding. "I never liked your lectures, Gerald. Not starting now."
"True." Gerald rolled his eyes. "Like the rest of them."
He stroked his beard.
"All you ever wanted to learn was how to gut a man—not what was inside those guts."
"Yeah, yeah." Bethran waved it off. "Just get the book."
"Sure." Gerald disappeared briefly and returned with a thick, brown volume.
"Here you go."
Bethran took it with a rare smile. Funny—he'd sworn never to touch a book again.
"Remember—pull, not push," Gerald chuckled.
"I still remember how to open books, thank you very much."
"Come back sometime," Gerald waved him off, the door closing behind Bethran with a loud thud.
"Finally." Gerald exhaled, glancing at his hand. "I honestly thought he came to check on Leo."
"I hope he's okay…"
PULCH
Gerald stared down at his bloodied palm, a flicker of fear in his eyes.
"For my sake, at least."