VIII
Leora gritted her teeth as the sharp pain in her abdomen radiated outward. She pressed her hand against the wound, feeling the warm, sticky blood seeping through her fingers. She had been careless, rusty even, and the Trickster had taken full advantage of her lapse.
"Surprise!" the Trickster whisper-shouted, his voice oozing mockery. He stood a few paces away, his knife still gleaming with her blood. "Sorry, I lied."
Leora's body shimmered as she transformed into a burst of photon particles, disappearing just before he could strike again. She reappeared on the rooftop above, stumbling slightly as the effort to reform herself left her lightheaded. Her hand pressed harder against her abdomen, attempting to stem the bleeding.
The Trickster followed her effortlessly, leaping onto the roof with a casual grace that belied his lethal intent. His smirk widened as he landed, his hands spread in mock surrender.
"Where is the boy?" he asked, his tone light and teasing, though his eyes gleamed with menace. "Oh, introductions! I almost forgot! I am sooo rude~! Loki. Please, call me Loki~!"
Leora straightened, meeting his gaze with a cold smile of her own. "Loki," she repeated, her voice steady despite the pain coursing through her.
Loki tilted his head, studying her with feigned curiosity. "Why are you smiling?"
"Because," Leora began, her tone teasing despite the ache in her side, "my husband is really smart. Can you imagine it? A hunter like you outdone by a mere mundane."
Loki's grin faltered for a split second.
Leora took a steadying breath, her smile unwavering. "You're wasting your time," she said calmly. "I assure you, you'll never find him."
Loki's expression darkened, though the smirk quickly returned. He wasn't so easily shaken. "Off-grid, huh? That's fine and all. I'm not exactly trying that hard," he said with a shrug, as if her defiance was nothing more than an inconvenience.
He leaned forward slightly, his posture relaxed but his gaze piercing. "But you know, Bright, I could help you protect your family. Good deal, right? Why not join my Troupe? Dedicated trackers are a pain to deal with, even for someone like you."
Leora's eyes narrowed at the word. "Troupe?" she echoed, her voice low and disbelieving.
"Ah, yeah, you heard me right," Loki said, clearly relishing her reaction. "Not a Guild, not a Clan, and definitely not the Hunter Association. Too stuffy for my tastes. No, I'm building something better. A Troupe. A group of people united by intersecting personal interests."
He gestured grandly, his movements theatrical. "I'm still workshopping the name, but I'm leaning toward The Undead Troupe. Catchy, right? And our motto? 'We never tire of work!' Get it? Because we're relentless."
He chuckled at his own joke, his laughter light and carefree, though his eyes never left hers.
Leora remained silent, her poker face masterful. Her mind raced as she calculated her next move, the throbbing pain in her abdomen a constant reminder of her mistake. She couldn't afford to let him gain the upper hand again.
Loki took a step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Think about it, Leora. Join me, and I'll make sure no one ever touches your precious son. Refuse, and... well, let's just say dedicated trackers aren't the only problem you'll have to deal with."
Leora's breath steadied, her eyes narrowing. "I don't need your help," she said coldly. "And I don't take orders from clowns who name themselves after gods."
Loki's sharp eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Leora's stoic expression. "Come on," he urged, his tone oozing false sincerity. "Think about it. You're strong, smart, and clearly capable. Your family could use some... insurance, you know? Protection from the bigger fish out there. All I'm asking is for you to join my Troupe."
Leora clenched her jaw, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She knew his game. He wasn't offering protection—he was preying on her fears, dangling the illusion of safety before her while setting the trap. Fury simmered beneath her calm exterior, but she didn't let it show.
"I'd rather die than join you," she spat, her voice cold and laced with venom.
For the first time, Loki's mask of charm slipped. His grin faltered, and a flash of irritation crossed his face before he recovered, his smile turning sharp and cruel. "Well," he said, his voice tight, "that's a damn shame."
He took a step back, raising a hand in a casual gesture as though brushing her off. "Buh-bye then! Thomas, kill her."
Leora's instincts screamed at her, and she whirled around, realizing too late that Thomas had somehow crept up behind her. She barely had time to register his looming presence before—thud.
Thomas crumpled to the ground without a sound, his body hitting the pavement like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
Leora blinked, momentarily stunned. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, her mind racing to make sense of what had just happened. The oppressive weight of her situation lifted for a split second, and she knew she couldn't waste the opportunity.
There was no time to question, no time to wonder what—or who—had intervened.
Her aura flared to life, wrapping her body in a protective sheen of light. The air around her seemed to hum with energy as she activated her Seeker abilities, sharpening her senses to the edge of human perception. Without hesitation, she turned and bolted, her form blurring as she vanished into the labyrinth of the city streets.
The wind roared in her ears as she pushed herself to her absolute limit. Buildings and alleys melted together into a streak of shadows and neon lights. Her boots barely touched the ground as she weaved through the urban maze, every muscle in her body screaming for her to stop, but she refused to slow down.
Behind her, Loki's voice echoed faintly, tinged with frustration and disbelief. "What the hell just happened?"
Leora didn't look back. She didn't dare. Her only focus was escape, and ensuring she lived to protect her family another day.
A few minutes later…
Leora stumbled to a halt outside a dimly lit convenience store, her chest heaving as she struggled to calm her racing heart. The night air felt heavy, thick with the remnants of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She scanned her surroundings, the neon glow of the store's sign casting flickering shadows across the deserted street.
Her instincts prickled. Someone was there.
"Come out," she called, her voice low but firm. Her senses, honed by years of hunting, caught the faintest ripple in the air—a presence carefully suppressing their aura, almost undetectable.
A figure stepped forward, rising from the darkness as though materializing from her shadow. He was a tall man in a sharp black suit with white pinstripes. Despite the night, he wore dark shades that obscured his eyes, and beneath his left eye was a small black diamond tattoo.
Leora's hand instinctively brushed the hilt of her knife, her fingers twitching as she studied him. He didn't move to attack, merely stood there with a calm, measured air that put her on edge.
"It was you, wasn't it?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tension in her muscles. "The one who saved me back there?"
The man inclined his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Call me Jacob," he said, his voice smooth and composed.
The name meant nothing to her, but his presence was enough to tell her he wasn't an ordinary bystander. Every movement he made was calculated, precise. This was someone who knew how to fight, how to kill.
"Why?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "Why help me?"
Jacob didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small strip of paper, holding it out to her. Leora hesitated, her guard up, before snatching it from his hand.
Her eyes scanned the slip, confusion knitting her brow.
"It's from your favorite author," Jacob said, his tone light yet carrying an undertone of seriousness.
Leora froze. Her breath caught as her mind processed the words. She looked up sharply at him, her chest tightening. "What?"
Jacob gave a faint smile, almost imperceptible. "He said he's the most handsome guy in the world and you couldn't resist him. Banana."
Heat rushed to her face. Banana. The safe word. Her safe word. The word they used whenever they felt like being playful in private.
"Banana, my ass," she muttered, the blush on her cheeks betraying her annoyance. "I'd have known if he just said Butterfly…"
Butterfly. Reynard's safe word.
For a brief moment, Leora's hard exterior cracked. Her hand trembled slightly as she clutched the paper, emotions she had buried threatening to rise to the surface. She forced herself to hold it together, even as memories of her husband flashed through her mind.
Her eyes darted to the number scrawled on the slip. She didn't need long to memorize it, but seeing it made her heart pound. There was no mistaking it—it was him.
Leora shoved the paper into her pocket, her expression hardening as she turned back to Jacob. "Why are you doing this?"
Jacob shrugged, his demeanor unshaken. "It's a job from the Author. He has something I want. Talk to him."
Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of Reynard. Doubt crept into her mind. Reynard—the steady, predictable Reynard she thought she knew—had always been the rock of their family. Or so she had believed.
Now, uncertainty gnawed at her. Reynard's voluntary disappearance two years ago had been the final layer of protection for their family, a decision they had agreed on after the incident. But Leora had always assumed she knew the full story.
What if she didn't?
Her grip tightened on the phone as she stared at the number. She hadn't spoken to Reynard since he left. Trusting him to stay hidden, to keep their son safe, had been her way of coping with the separation. But now, Jacob's words cast doubt on everything.
What if Reynard had been involved in something dangerous all along?
She unlocked her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen as she debated her next move. Calling him might bring her the answers she needed, but it could also pull her deeper into the shadows of his secrets.
Jacob stood silently, his patience unnerving as he watched her.
Leora took a deep breath and dialed the number.
The line rang once. Twice.
Then she heard it.
"Leora?" Reynard's voice was calm, familiar. As if nothing had changed.
But to her, everything had.
"Reynard," she whispered, her grip on the phone tightening. "We need to talk."
The phone crackled softly as Reynard's voice came through, calm but with a touch of suspicion.
"Password?" he asked.
Leora blinked, confused. "W-what?"
Reynard sighed on the other end, his tone patient but firm. "Butterfly."
Leora let out an exasperated sigh. "Banana."
There was a brief pause before Reynard's voice came back, laced with amusement. "How does it taste?"
Leora's cheeks flushed crimson. "Are you serious right now? You want phone sex right now?"
Reynard chuckled softly. "It's the only foolproof identity verification method I could think of."
Her voice dropped to a whisper as her embarrassment deepened. "It tastes delish, s-sensei… Do you like it? Or do I like it?"
Reynard's tone turned teasing. "I would have been fine if you just said sensei, you know?"
Leora's frustration boiled over. "Stop teasing me, idiot! If you wanted to verify my identity, you should have just asked me where my hidden mole is!"
The mortification burned brighter as she remembered why she always called him sensei when doing the deed. It wasn't her proudest habit, but one that had stuck over the years.
Still flustered, she stammered, "This is unfair… I also need to… v-verify your identity."
Reynard's tone shifted to a mock-serious one. "How do you want to do it?"
Leora inhaled sharply. "How do I like it?"
Without missing a beat, Reynard replied, "Missionary."
Her face burned hotter. "No hesitation at all!"
For the first time since the call started, Leora's attention flickered to Jacob. He stood nearby, utterly silent, his unreadable expression hidden behind those ridiculous shades.
"…"
Leora cleared her throat, her voice sharp as she forced the conversation back on track. "Let's meet."
"Time and place," Reynard replied, his tone steady and businesslike now.
Leora didn't hesitate. "The place where we first met. How about a week from now? Or two weeks from now? I have some… cleanup to do. I was ambushed, and I need to cover my tracks."
There was a pause on the other end before Reynard's voice dropped an octave, his tone laced with concern. "Is it the Undead Troupe?"
Leora's breath hitched. "H-how did you know? Yes, it's them."
"They're more dangerous than they appear," Reynard warned, his voice grim. "Especially their leader. Never engage them. Not the way you are now. So, the guy who gave you my number… Is he still with you? Wears shades, little diamond tattoo under his left eye?"
Leora's gaze flickered to Jacob, who remained as composed as ever. "Yeah… What is his deal?"
Reynard's voice turned thoughtful. "He still owes me two favors after giving you this contact number. Use him if you must—bodyguard, distraction, whatever you think he's worth."
Leora frowned, her instincts pushing back against the idea. "No," she said firmly. "I think I'll dismiss him."
"Good," Reynard replied, approval evident in his tone. "The fewer attachments, the better. Two weeks, then—March 17. I'll meet you there. "
The call ended with a click, leaving Leora holding the phone in silence.
Jacob finally spoke, his tone neutral. "Well, that was… illuminating."
Leora ignored him, her mind racing as she slipped the phone into her pocket. She had two weeks to prepare, two weeks to untangle herself from the web of threats closing in around her family.
And two weeks to figure out just what secrets Reynard had been keeping from her.
~008