Being a werewolf was once viewed as a sin, a punishment from Zeus for blasphemers. For centuries, werewolves and other shapeshifters had been hunted, beaten, murdered, and pushed to the fringes of society. Although discrimination is now illegal, shapeshifters still face a subtle bias if their identities are revealed. Restaurants often turned them away to avoid “offending” other patrons, and schools barred them from teaching to avoid parental outcries. Ironically, clothing stores are the only ones that truly welcome them, largely due to their high repurchase rate after messy transformations. However, even those who claim to be more open-minded, even if they date shapeshifters, their attitude is nothing more than “I think they are cool, but as long as my child isn’t one.”
“I was afraid to see you,” Hector said, his voice shuddering as tears tracked through his beard. “Not because I feared your reaction, but because I knew once I saw you, I’d never be able to leave again. I wanted to propose to you, Camila, but even if you said yes… what future do we have? We’d live in the shadows. Our children would be bullied, looked at like monsters. I wanted you to be happy, not to suffer this curse with me.”
“You’re overthinking this,” Camila said firmly, stepping forward to bridge the gap. She took his hands, her grip iron-strong. “Whatever happens, we’ll work through it. Together.”
“But I’m still in the early stages,” Hector said gloomily. “I can’t fully control the shift yet. I might hurt you.”
“Then we’ll find a way to control it,” Camila smiled, cupping his face.
The weight of the world seemed to lift for a moment as they leaned in, the two reunited lovebirds kissing as if the rest of the room didn’t exist.
“Ahem… sorry,” Trevor interrupted with a forced cough. “As much as I hate to break this up, we still need to identify the people in the temple before they decide to come back and try to kill you again.”
“I don’t know their faces,” Hector admitted, pulling away reluctantly. “Except for the two JackToy employees, and even then, I only saw their backs.”
“We have a lead,” Trevor said. “We suspect Will. After you vanished, someone who matched his height broke into your apartment and cleared out your clothes to make it look like you’d left of your own accord. He also conveniently ‘forgot’ to mention you two had lunch plans that day.”
“No way,” Hector said, shaking his head. “Will’s my buddy.”
“We’re sticking to the original play,” Trevor said, his voice dropping into a low, focused hum. “We leak the word that the two of you are bunkering down in this suite for the night. In reality, you’ll slip into the room next door. Spion and I will stay behind in this one to act as the lightning rod. We’ll be waiting to see exactly who comes through that door to collect the bait.”
“But now it seems this plan is too dangerous,” Spion interjected, his voice cold. “I think the scale of this is bigger than a kidnapping. We’re likely facing a coordinated team—possibly terrorists.”
The room went silent. Spion paced the floor. “It’s possible that not just the two JackToy employees are involved, but also staff from the Wounded Warrior Project and the Temple of Ares. This couldn’t be just an ordinary kidnapping and murder.”
“You’re right,” Trevor whispered, the pieces finally clicking into place. “They were waiting for a specific stage. The Soirée… it has to be the Cheval Blanc. It’s not just a party; it’s a concentration of power. Moguls, venture capitalists, and even rumors of foreign royalty. It would be the perfect target for a terrorist attack.”
“What do we do? Should we call the authorities?” Camila asked, her voice tight with anxiety.
“Without hard evidence, they’ll laugh us out of the bureau,” Trevor replied, his brow furrowed in thought. “Besides, the cat is out of the bag. Everyone knows Hector is back. Our only play now is to move forward and see who comes knocking.”
“I’ll contact Ali and have him double the perimeter security,” Spion added, his thumbs flying across his screen.
“I’m staying,” Hector said, his voice dropping into a low, steady register. “My leg is healed, and frankly, I’m more of a match for whatever is coming than any of you. Unless they’re carrying silver, I can recover from anything. In my other form, I’m faster and stronger than any human operative.”
“Don’t you two want a moment of peace after everything?” Trevor asked gently.
“We’ll have a lifetime of peace once this is over,” Camila said, meeting Hector’s gaze. He nodded solemnly in agreement.
A sharp chime echoed in the room. Camila checked her phone, her face pale. “It’s Goblinez. He’s asking if I’m okay and says the party is winding down. He’s offering me a ride home. How do I reply to this?”
“Mastermind or not, we keep him close,” Trevor said. “Tell him you’re staying the night here with Hector.”
After everything was arranged, Trevor escorted Camila to the room next door while the corridor was empty. With her safely tucked away, it was time for the next phase of the shell game. Originally, the plan called for Trevor to ditch his mask, head back to the floor, and “clumsily” leak Hector’s location to the crowd. But now, since the real Hector returned, he could need a wingman, so Spion joined.
The gala showed no signs of winding down. The air was thick with the hum of conversation and the steady stream of influencers broadcasting to their followers in real-time. At the bar, a thick crowd of socialites lingered over half-empty glasses, unwilling to let the night—or the gossip—fade just yet.
“There,” Spion nudged Trevor, nodding toward the bar. The two women he could never forget were chatting with the bartenders, Daniel and Bob. “They definitely speak English. Let’s go ‘leak’ some information.”
They slid into the vacant stools beside them. “Ladies,” Spion said with his most disarming smile. “Can we buy you a round?”
“Sure, we were just thinking of having a drink, and I never refuse a treat offered by someone,” the woman with the braids said. “A Chocolate Martini for me, and a Psycho Killer for my girlfriend.”
Spion offered a wry, knowing smile as he signaled the two bartenders. “Give us the same thing.”
“I’m Spion, and this is Trevor. We’re detectives,” Spion said by way of introduction. “What do you do?”
“We are hunters,” the woman said, exchanging a dark, amused look with her companion. She laughed, a sharp, silver sound. “I’m Merit, and this is Cleo.”
“Hunters?” Trevor interjected, raising an eyebrow. “Where are you from? What brings you to New Athens? Just passing through, or are you on a trap?”
“Alexandria,” Merit answered. “We’re just here on vacation.”
“I know someone from Alexandria,” Spion said, leaning in. “He actually works here.”
Merit’s smile widened, sharp and knowing. “I’m aware. Shemsu? He’s my cousin.”
The words hit Trevor and Spion like a physical blow. “No way,” they both froze. Their carefully maintained detective personas were crumbling as their jaws practically hit the floor in unison.
“He never mentioned he had a cousin this… striking,” Spion recovered quickly.
“So you’re friends of his?” Merit asked, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Strange. He’s never mentioned either of you.”
“Never?” Trevor looked genuinely offended. “I actually saved his life once.”
Merit arched an eyebrow. “Is that so? He always told me his life here was as quiet and normal as it gets.”
“Normal?” Trevor scoffed. “A witch broke into his apartment and drugged him just to get her hands on a dead professor’s diary. He called that normal?”
Merit laughed, a sharp, delighted sound. “Wow. It looks like I’m going to have to interrogate him properly tomorrow.”
The bartenders slid four glasses onto the counter. Merit lifted hers in a graceful arc. “Cheers. Thanks for the treat.”
“Our pleasure,” Spion replied, leaning back as he took a long pull of his drink. “This whole night has been wild, hasn’t it? The chocolate, the games. We saw you two dominating that mechanical bull, by the way. And then there’s the drama with that actress, Camila… do you know her?”
“Not really,” Merit said, trailing a finger around the rim of her glass after a sip. “Rumor has it she and her boyfriend staged the whole disappearance just to trend on social media.”
“I heard it’s darker than that,” Trevor said, sounding intentionally clumsy. He drained half his glass. “Word is they’re caught up in something federal. There was an FBI agent lurking around earlier… they’ve got them tucked away in a room, questioning them right now.”
Merit leaned in, her interest piqued. “You’re serious?” Even Cleo stopped drinking, her eyes shifting toward Trevor.
“We’re detectives,” Trevor bragged with a sloppy, lopsided grin. “Nothing stays hidden from us for long.”
“Which room was it again?” Spion asked, playing the part of the slightly-less-drunk partner. “I think we walked past it.”
“Room 233,” Trevor announced, his voice carrying just a bit too far across the bar.
“Right, right,” Spion repeated, equally loud. “Room 233.”
“But we didn’t listen in, though,” Trevor added, wagging a finger with exaggerated solemnity. “That would be… unethical. Highly unprofessional. So we came straight back down here for more drinks.” He gave a sloppy, lopsided grin, leaning heavily against the bar.
The girls laughed at the ‘drunken’ detectives. “I guess you two aren’t very good at your jobs,” Merit teased.
“Hey, we’re good enough,” Spion grinned, smoothly pivoting the conversation now that the bait had been set. He just had to hope someone nearby was listening. “And lucky enough to get a ticket to come here. So, did you also get your ticket in a chocolate box?”
“No,” Merit replied, her eyes sparking with amusement. “I’m here by invitation. My father is the primary cocoa supplier for Jack Goblinez’s chocolates.” She leaned back, enjoying the look on their faces. “I take it Shemsu never mentioned our family? Our grandfather is the wealthiest man in Kemet, and his father… well, let’s just say he practically owns Alexandria.”
For the second time tonight, Trevor and Spion’s jaws hit the floor.