Bloodlines

The day was wasted on functions of the crossbow. Sebastian had skill, no doubt, and a confidence to match. A key element in any sort of bow was confidence. Confidence in the user. Confidence in the bow. Confidence in the arrows. Confidence that the arrow would strike its target. That’s why Aimée was so terrible at it. Her faith in her bow, even the crossbow, was lacking. Tomás was somewhat in between. The collapsible bow Ridley trusted was years from being within their range of skill. Still they were determined to learn how to use it as well as her.

Ankh was warming herself by the fire in Ridley’s room while the huntress was rummaging through the fully stocked walk-in closet in her room. Clearly it was stocked by Dominique. Ankh felt Ridley shrivel to herself at what she saw; bright colours, sheer, lingerie and all sorts of skimpy wear.

“I don’t suppose you have any styling advice,” Ridley directed to the grey wolf. Ankh snorted then trotted into the walk-in closet. Her ten centimetre paws gentle against the carpet.

The wolf sniffed the air before backing away from her huntress. “Urg! You smell funky!” Ridley rolled her eyes then shook her head. “You’ve been spending way too much time around Earnest! The vanilla is so overwhelming.”

The huntress hummed her thoughtfulness then voiced, “it’s weird. He doesn’t act like what you would expect from the Source. Do you think he’s ever had a god complex?”

“I don’t know. Do you think he knows if that messed up ritual would have turned Renee immortal?” Ridley froze. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay,” she replied. “It’s a valid question but... when do you ask valid questions? You’re a wolf. Not to undermine your intelligence.” Ankh huffed then flicked her tail at Ridley. “I’m just saying, I didn’t think it was normal for wolves to...” her own gasp cut her off. Ankh looked over her shoulder at Ridley, only to see the huntress’ eyes glowing gold.

“Um, Ridley?”

The huntress blankly walked to the full length mirror. The grey canine shook her head repeatedly, unable to feel their psionic link. In place of a distorted woman’s voice, there was only a series of barks and growls that bounced off Ridley’s deaf ears.

Mindlessly she made for the mirror while everything around her was blurred nothingness. The reflection that looked back, wasn’t the face of Ridley Axel. It was Earnest’s. Inside the mindscape, there was nothing that separated the two from each other. Just a small space of light surrounded by bottomless black.

“What is this,” the huntress questioned, looking around. Hearing only inaudible whispers around them.

“We call it Comatose,” the Source replied. Behind him stood three other men. Blurry shadows that didn’t have any distinguishable features. “The space where your mind travels when you’re unconscious. I hope you will excuse us possessing you. Verbal communication has its downsides. Eavesdropping, to be precise.”

The figures behind Earnest stood out more when their eyes started glowing with the same gold hue as Earnest’s. The past Sources said nothing and only stood there, motionlessly. Ridley focused on the present Source, though she had a chill from his predecessors. “What do you want,” she asked cautiously.

Earnest sighed while the whispering around them grew more prominent. “We shouldn’t trust her!”

“She’s not our people!”

“Her range is unmatched. She could prove useful.”

“I trust her,” Earnest stated, silencing his formers. “I came to inform you,” he directed to Ridley. “Julien Bassé is an ally of the Source before me,” he began, gesturing to the set of gold eyes to his immediately right.

“He’s Vanguard.”

“Correct,” Earnest replied squarely. “Despite his appetite for tricks, Julien Bassé is dangerous.”

“Can’t you just give me another sample of your blood?”

“If we wanted him to kill you, yes. Playful as he may be, he is... how you say... a ‘sucker for the rules’. The rules of the Vanguard are explicit. They won’t interfere with any of this but they will execute everyone who suspects them of this.”

“Unlike Wu Delun.”

“Exterminate him!”

“Have this venerer take him.”

“Don’t mind them,” Earnest voiced. “They are... outdated.”

“So what was the Renaissance, vintage?”

“A foul tongue.”

“The modern woman has no respect.”

“Now is not the time! Warn her of the six.”

“A fourth group of goldbloods involved in the Source search?”

Earnest gave a small smirk. “No. Luckily not.” His wavy hair gave him the splitting image of Marcus. The Sinclair brothers both had a sheepishness to their smirks. “The table of six are the Consortium of Ancients’ leaders. Descendants of the Ancient World.”

“Mesopotamia and Jordanian.”

“Egypt and Greece.”

“Tenochtitlan.”

“The sixth leader, none of us can see. He’s... hiding from us.” Earnest stepped closer to Ridley while the shadowy Sources hovered into a circle around her. “It should not be possible for any vampire to hide from us. Though, clearly he or she has found a blind spot.”

“A blind spot only one other can hide in.”

“The huntsman-vampire mongrel.”

“You.”

“With that being said, it is quite unlikely that the sixth would be perfectly halved as you. You, yourself, are the first perfect blackblood. Also, the sixth would have been executed in a heartbeat if any were to know they were not a goldblood.”

“Use her.”

“No,” Earnest roared angrily, making the three shadowy figures waver. “Ridley may be able to hide from our second sight, that does not mean she can find him like an ajar slave.” Slowly his gold eyes looked back on her. “Julien initiated an investigation among the First Generation for the identity of the sixth chair.”

“And?”

“Everything the Vanguard knows about the Consortium is in Julien’s possession. The easiest one to find is on a Universal Serial Bus he keeps locked in the desk in his private study. Third floor, hidden behind the Ming Dynasty vase. Bottom drawer, underneath the portfolios of his house models. Be careful. Tonight he has added security guards.”

“Sounds like one of Clarke’s adventures during high school,” Ridley commented while folding her arms. “I’ll be fine.”

“Not under these circumstances.”

“Prideful little one, is she not?”

“Nobody’s allowed to bring weapons onto the property. There are metal detectors and everyone is frisked. Thoroughly.” Ridley sighed. “I don’t advise you to use your fists or your eldritch either. Julien prides himself in being a ‘one of a kind’ illusionist.” Earnest clasped his hands together. “Please, do not get hurt.”

The former Sources faded away while the gold in Earnest’s eyes dimmed out. The blackness around also grew distant. “That’s like asking ice cream not to melt. It comes with the territory.”

“I do hope nothing goes astray for you tonight.” The Source too started fading away. “I almost forgot,” he added as he vanished from her physical sight. “The passcode to the study is Janus. That was his name back when he was Roman.”

Black engulfed Ridley before she gasped for air and saw her own frazzled reflection in the mirror. She saw the gold fade from her eyes while Ankh was angrily growling at her and nipping at her ankle. The huntress stammered into the pillar of the closet with a disorientated groan.

“Janus. Third floor. Hidden behind the Ming Dynasty vase. Bottom drawer. Underneath the portfolios.”

“Ridley,” Ankh roared. “Tell me, you can hear me.” The huntress sighed then cupped her head. “Ridley! Answer me!”

“Yes, I can hear you! Why?”

The wolfed caved onto her belly in relief. “Thank God,” she sighed. “Didn’t you feel that,” her distorted voice went on. “If felt like our link was broken,” Ankh said worriedly. She leaped to her hind legs and buried her face into the grade twelve’s chest. “That was terrifying.” After a gag, Ankh leaped away from Ridley. “Urg. That explains it! Overwhelming vanilla speaks volumes. Ow, I think my nose is broken.”

Ridley sighed then leaned back into the pillar. “The good news is that I know where Julien keeps his information. I know how to get there. I know where everything is.”

“But...?”

“I’m not the partying twin. Loud music, sweaty gyrating, spiked food. Ryan was better at that. I’ll stick out. Not to mention how I scraped through the Christmas ball. The only reason I didn’t go bat shit crazy is because of Na’ailah.” Ridley sank to her knees while Ankh sat before her. “Sayeed’s sister. Oh, wait, you know her.”

“Yeah, Na’ailah. Hm. Nice hair, incredible body. Not to mention her brains. Wait, what? What did she do?”

Ridley combed her hair back. “To be honest, she looked really frail. I didn’t want to scare the shit of her. Even if Calista did say she’s more than capable. Sayeed didn’t have faith her and... if you ever tell him I said this...”

“My snout is shut. Promise!”

“I trust Sayeed’s judgement. Sometimes I think his is better than anyone else’s. Maybe that’s because he’s older than Clarke and has more life experience or whatever, but yeah. Although now that I think about it, he seemed more worried about Na’ailah being around us than in actual danger.”

“Well... y-you and Dane are ruffians!” Ridley scratched her head with a sigh while Ankh surveyed the closet around them. “Dude, we need to find you something to-”

“I thought as much,” Dominique cut in. “Your hopeless style was proof enough. Get up,” she ordered while scanning over the racks in the closet. “Have you ever seen Blade, ma bichette? Wesley Snipes’ poor excuse of a blackblood hunter.” Ridley didn’t answer. “In the first movie, there is rave. A dimwit human gets the fright of the century when blood starts pouring from the sprinklers. A Julien Bassé Bacchanalia is exactly the same.”

“I’ll pack a raincoat.”

Dominique hummed a humourless chuckle while rummaging through a rack of skirts. “The only way you stand a remote chance of getting Julien’s attention is show a great deal of sexual desire.” Ridley rolled her eyes. “A bacchanalia is mistakenly known as a sex party, after all. The Roman Empire has Julien to thank for that.”

“I hate to say it makes sense,” Ridley voiced defeatedly. “I heard he has house models. Keeps their portfolios in his private study.”

“Hm. That pour chair must be soaking a great deal of time. Ah, perfect!” The Mesopotamian woman held up the ensemble for Ridley to see. The Monteirian huntress paled at the sight. “Come along,” Dominique ordered while unzipping the leather corset dress. “There’s still your hair and makeup. God alone knows how long that’s going to take.”

A scoff was the huntress’ only reply as she snatched the clothing from her aunt. “I’ll manage.”

“I doubt that,” Dominique commented under her breath as she left.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Ridley voiced while stripping off the black hoodie. “I thought what I wore to the Christmas ball was bad but this is just blasphemous!”

Ankh turned away from her while she changed and the wolf returned to her spot by the fireplace. The corset had lacing down the front, adding to how the corset pronounced Ridley’s breasts. The lacing went down to her waist, making the dress look like a two piece. The boots Dominique handed Ridley narrowly didn’t touch the dress’ hem.

“Blasphemous,” Ridley echoed when she saw herself in the mirror. After signing off her virtues she looked out the closet. “What do you think, Ankh?”

“Er... Switzerland?”

Ridley sighed then shook her head. “I’m going into enemy territory without a weapon.”

“What about your eldritch?”

“Earnest thinks that’s a bad idea. Geez,” she groaned. “Nobody can know I’m hunter, nobody can know I’m a halfritch, and nobody can know that I’m trying to steal information for the Order from the Vanguard that’s about the Consortium. What could wrong?”

“On the bright side, if there’s any ajar or psionic activity, I can warn you from the comfort of this fireplace.”

Ridley picked out her leather brace to cover her gradus while she made for downstairs. Tomás wore a black mesh shirt with his jeans and was spellbound in disgust at his sister. Ridley endlessly tugged at the dress to pull it down. “This is ridiculous,” she whispered to herself.

Sebastian walked up to them, pausing behind Tomás. “Whoa,” he commented.

Tomás looked over to his human friend then huffed distasteful in reply. “Sebastian, you will do well to keep your eyes above my sister’s neck.” Ridley side eyed Sebastian, who looked away at the grand staircase. “If you’re not comfortable, you don’t need to come.”

Yes, you do.

“Yes, I do.”

The Source needs you to do this.

“The Source needs m-me to do this.”

Sebastian and Tomás exchanged worrying glances. “What did he say?”

Tell them nothing.

“Sister?”

You’re going to be late.

“We’re going to be late,” she stated then made for the garage.

Good, good. Earnest may not have been entirely faulty in entrusting you. I find your mind to be quite resilient and docile. Not at all common. You have a strong mentality, Ridley Dominique. Unlike your sister. She was weak.

“She was weak.”

She made her decision.

“She made her decision.”

“Sister?”

“It’s nothing,” she stated then slid into the limousine. She sat away from Tomás and Sebastian. She shifted away from him. “Ankh,” she whispered.

She’s not in here.

“What are you?”

I am Ninsun. The second Source.

“Ninsun? Sumerian.”

The oldest known civilisation. Smart girl. Now, Earnest won’t approve of me meddling but I advise some violence. We all know Julien’s mind. We are quite unanimous when it comes to meddling in affairs of our dependents however, this time requires some exception. Julien enjoys a woman of... dominance. A woman of strong will and brute strength.

Earnest failed to mention as much simply because he values your virtue too much. I, on the other hand, know well enough that one such as you would do anything for the greater good. Even something so frivolous. Do with the information as you wish. I am merely an informant.

Ridley sighed then shook off the shiver that came from Ninsun. The second Source felt more intrusive in her mind than Earnest. It was as if Ridley were naked. The skimpy skin-tight leather dress she wore was no help in that feeling. The huntress ironed the skirt with her hand, reassuring herself that she was not naked.

Underneath the low lights in the limousine, she turned to her brother and his friend. Sebastian had his jacket cast over his lap, revealing his bare chest. Barely visible was a scar along the side of his torso. The leather pant he wore went against the pessimistic brooder he was. Next to him, Tomás was stiff with his eyes on his sister.

Ridley’s eyes latched onto his and Tomás could force a wry smirk at her. “I understand now why fathers would not dare let their daughters out of the house dress scandalously. I know you’re capable of handling yourself. That doesn’t ease my fear,” he chuckled nervously.

Ridley nodded once then looked back out the window at the darkness outside. “My father doesn’t care how I dress.”

“I find that hard to believe, sister.”

“He trusts me with a knife. He trusts me with a man in my bedroom. He doesn’t care how I dress.”

Tomás’ eyes went wide and he looked to Sebastian, hoping he misheard. “You’ve hosted men in your room,” lord du Luq questioned fearfully. “Is your virtue intact?”

Ridley beamed softly to herself, thinking about the times Dane had been in her room. Esmeralda and Clarke allowed her to close her door whenever he was around. Despite that, Ridley never allowed herself to think about sex. It was out of the question for hunters who didn’t have the complete Nonentity series and the Mana gradus.

“I don’t have time for petty shit,” the huntress replied. “And this man... he’s the only friend I have.”

Relief was awash on the French nobleman’s face as he caved into his seat. Sebastian patted his knee reassuringly. The drive to Cannes was matched with little conversation from Ridley. Mostly Sebastian and Tomás discussing the runnings of Chateau du Luq. The duties of the Master of the House. The duties of lord Tomás du Luq of Nice.

“I don’t need to warn either of you not to cut yourself,” Tomás stated. “This is strictly a goldblood-only party.”

“You do realise that my veins are black,” Ridley voiced, showing him her wrist. “Thanks to your Marie-Antoinette-cosplay of an aunt, I’m showing more skin than a Playboy Bunny.”

“Not to mention just as much underwear,” Sebastian joked.

“It is all right,” Tomás stated. “I’ve got your back, sister. As well as your front. Just blend. Sebastian and I will handle Julien.”

“You’re sidelining me?”

“Why yes. You’re a woman,” Tomás replied casually. “We need you for your visual stimulations. As a matter of fact, you might want to tighten your lacings, just there,” he stated gesturing to her passage. “And Dominique keeps makeup set in that compartment by your feet. You may want to do a-”

“No.”

“Sister, I would never undermine you nor your capabilities but tonight is serious business. The Order doesn’t need some little girl playing with fire,” Tomás stated. “Don’t worry your pretty little head and leave the heavy work for...”

Sebastian cut in, “Tomás.” The brief silence that followed was thick. “You’re going to piss her off.” The Englishman turned from one Renee du Luq lookalike to the next. “What he means is that we will use wit and wile to con our way inside while you must be bold and brave to keep eyes on you and not us.”

Ridley looked away from them coldly, knowing full well she wasn’t going to go with their plan. Strangely the huntress felt Ankh seep back into her mind. Underneath her annoyance at Tomás, Ridley felt Ankh was docile. Still huddled by the fireplace.

Their driver cruised into a grand mansion so grand that it had its own sign. ‘Le Palais Vénitien’, it read. Only upon reading it did Ridley notice that they weren’t along the coast anymore. The route they had taken was parallel to the Mediterranean Sea but even in the dark, it was obvious the beachline wasn’t in sight.

Their limousine cruised to a round-about that had a huge fountain in the centre. The house had lights outside to illuminate its grandeur. Their driver came to open the door. Tomás and Sebastian were the first ones out while Ridley was still fuming.

Rough she stepped out of the limo, ignoring the driver’s hand to aid her out. “Calm yourself,” Earnest ordered. Ridley gasped at the sight of the Source in a driver’s uniform. “It’s the mentality of his time.”

“Three centuries later? Bite me.” The huntress exhaled her fluster. “Why’re you here?”

“I’m one of few people who have a valid license.” Ridley raised a scrutinising eyebrow at him. Earnest too wasn’t buying his reason. He cleared his throat lightly. “I will be parked in the southeastern garden. Don’t do anything deadly.”

“That’s an occupational hazard,” Ridley commented with a small smirk before following Sebastian and Tomás.

The mansion was grand! At the front door was a metal detector, just as Earnest foretold, along with security guards. “Tomás du Luq and co.,” lord du Luq stated to the guard with a tablet. Hanging over the foot of the grand stairs was an enormous crystal chandelier.

The guard nodded to his colleagues and stepped aside to let them search the Order. A goldblood man took great pleasure in running his hands all over Ridly’s body. A shameless grin was plastered on his face when his hands searched her breasts and hips. Tomás could only watch in disgust as his sister was violated. The guards nodded at each other before letting the three in. Ridley felt naked when she habitually reached for her karambit that wasn’t there. The guards watched them join the sleezily dressed people.

Some people didn’t have clothes in at all. There were two women wearing gilded masks and pearl necklaces and nothing else. A waiter brushed passed them with champagne flutes of red blood. He wore a black mask and a bow tie, leaving his bits to dangle freely.

“I hate to tint you with all this incontinence, sister, but...”

“Just do what you have to,” Ridley cut in coldly then went on her way.

Electronic dance music with boosted base boomed through the speakers that were strategically placed throughout the house and in the back garden. Bright colourful lights blinded Ridley as she stepped into the rear garden. After adjusting to the bright lights around her and the less bright lights in the pool, the huntress took in the sight.

An outdoor bar was to her right and blue outside lounge sofas to her left. More naked people were dancing carelessly about. Some were polite enough to wear lingerie. The gargantuan swimming pool was awash in colours from the lights in it. Purple, blue, yellow, red, green, orange.

Above the party, on a second floor balcony, was the VIP section. Goldbloods more elite than the ones below. Among them, was Julien ‘Great Depression’ Bassé. His mugshot was in Dunon Academy’s history textbook, in the Great Depression chapter.

The black and white photograph had its differences from the real-life counterpart. Namely, gone was the long wavy hair. Replaced by a decent shave. He was lounging in his seat among three stiff men in stiffer suits. All four of them were taking in the party and pointing out whatever caught their attention.

The huntress followed a finger to a naked girl grinding against the deejay’s table. When she caught sight of them pointing at her, the man who pointed at her beckoned her to join them. The deejay grabbed her hand at looked up at the balcony. The girl shrugged her apology at the balcony before returning to grind against the deejay.

A server paused next to her offering her a flute of blood. “Thanks,” Ridley replied then took a flute. She completely overlooked his black Calvin Klein underpants and his black rabbit mask. After taking a small sip, she spat the blood out. It wasn’t 100%.

“Over there,” she heard Sebastian declare.

“Dearest,” Tomás called as they hurried to her side. “Don’t drink that!” He grabbed the flute from her and threw it aside. Nobody was fazed by the glass - or blood - splattering on the floor. “That’s laced with ketamine. You’ll be hallucinating the whole night.”

Sebastian had his jacket on but his nipples were visible, as well as the scar running from his central chest to his ribs. Ridley licked her top lip that had remnants of blood. “Did you find what you were looking for,” she asked.

Tomás sighed defeatedly while Sebastian replied, “we might have. Julien won’t be talking to anyone who asks for him, only people he invites. We’ll get his attention, don’t worry.”

“Keep your eyes peeled for an opening.” Ridley folded her arms then looked over to Tomás. “I need you to stay out of the firing line. If Sebastian and I are caught, you must be safe.” She shook her head lightly. “Blend in and only drink if it comes in a body. Glasses are dangerous!”

Sebastian hummed while taking in Julien and his associates on the balcony above. “I have a plan,” he stated. “Come. Quickly.”

Sebastian led Tomás off deeper into the melee of partygoers. Ridley shook her distaste at him. “Ankh,” Ridley called softly. “Anything?”

“Nothing,” the wolf replied as clearly as if she were right there. “Is it bad that I can still smell Earnest on you?”

Ridley headed deeper into the party, carefully scanning the people around her. “Probably not. He’s here,” she admitted. “Meanwhile Tomás and Sebastian are still on the women objectification bus.”

Ankh purred then rolled over. “Oh, right there! Ooh, ooh. Watch the nipples!” Ridley furrowed her eyebrows while Ankh cleared her distorted voice. “Sorry. Aimée is giving me the best belly rub, right now! Whatever Mesopotamian massage technique she mastered, I hope she passes it on to you.”

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Ridley whispered then settled on a rattan dome chair, partially hidden in the shadows. The rattan enclosed the chair above her while the white cushion behind her were easy to sink into.

The party took off into the pool while the deafening music continued. Sebastian and Tomás were wondering around aimlessly through guests while Julien and his three men were now leaning against the white wood barricading and watching.

Ridley followed their fingers to where they pointed, taking detailed note of what each one was interested in. “Earnest,” Ridley whispered while watching them.

Ridley? What’s wrong?

“Those men with Julien. Who are they?”

The Source was briefly silent before he hummed. The red head is earl Randall Milton of Inverness. Serious dislike for the English; typical Scot. The Jap? Ryo Tachibana. Peasant tangerine farmer from the Tokugama clan during the Sengoku period. That Spaniard is Angel Cortez. He’s five years older than you. They’re all just looking for easy pleasures.

“Anything particularly useful?” Another server, a woman this time, offered her a flute of blood. ”Non, merci," she replied and the server - in a thong that didn’t hide her fresh Brazilian wax - modelled off. “Something like what they’re looking for now.”

I advise staying away from Milton and Tachibana; they have appetites that are never satisfied. Not just the sexual kind. It’s a barbaric thing to drink from a likeblood so recklessly. They’re so-

“Focus.”

Cortez is your best bet. He’s the Dorian Gray to Julien’s lord Henry Wotton. Ridley hummed. His taste, so far, is limited to anyone who can give him a... how you say... boner. Ridley stood up and took in Angel Cortez. Trust Julien Bassé to make loose living so... so...

“Easy?”

Precisely.

“Are the guards ampyra, by any chance?”

Yes. Why do you ask?

“Keep watching,” was all she said. Scanning the crowd for Sebastian, in particular. Under the patio, parked at the outdoor bar, he was sipping a glass of whisky. “Dance with me,” she ordered over the booming speaker right behind him.

Before the human could reply, he was being dragged towards the pool. Unashamed, Ridley set her platformed foot into the water, confusing Sebastian. “What are you-” she pulled him in and crossed to the bright green hued water for the island in the heart of the pool.

She ushered the human ajar up first then ducked under to soak herself. While making her way up, the huntress shamelessly shoved naked and partially covered partygoers into the water to clear a view to the balcony.

“Ridley...”

“Relax. It’s a party. I’m blending,” she purred into his ear.

The Englishman tensed up while the blaring music still surrounded them. Ridley effortlessly shoved another guy off the island. Sebastian sized her up fearfully while she unlaced the corset’s front. She spun around and pressed her back into his front before dropping into a split.

The people in the pool started cheering lightly as Sebastian pulled her to her feet. After that, Ridley Axel pulled out her sixteen years of gymnastics and eighteen years of hunter training in an elaborate display of handsprings, back bends and exotic flips.

Her wet crowd grew more wild while Sebastian was stiffly statued and blazing red. Ridley gripped him by the lapels before dipping backwards. She flipped her hair making droplets splatter across his face. Once she was sure she had the entire swimming pool on her, she singlehandedly flipped Sebastian onto the floor.

She settled on top of him, making her audience absolutely crazy! “R-Ridley...”

Her eyes darted upwards to the balcony to see the four gentlemen watching her. “Put your hands on my neck,” she ordered.

“W-wha...?”

“Do it!” He obeyed and Ridley looked back up the four men. Cortez was pointing straight at her. She smirked then looked back down at Sebastian. “Blended.”

She stood up and made for the balcony, re-soaking herself in water. Over the thunderous music, a light applause followed her from other party guests. Incredible. Esmeralda would be proud.

“Don’t get too excited,” Ridley whispered while a fake grin plastered on her face for Cortez above. “I still have to get rid of them.”

The bathroom excuse is the oldest in the book. Still effective. Ridley shook her head lightly. Do you still have everything?

“Third floor. Hidden behind the Ming Dynasty vase. Password: Janus. Bottom drawer. Underneath the portfolios of his house models. It’s not rocket science.”

Does not hurt to sure.

Her plastered grin grew broader when neared the top of the stairs. “Gentlemen. Good evening,” she purred.

Angel Cortez wrapped his around her waist. He wore an off-white suit and a blue breezy shirt underneath with the top buttons undone. ”Estuviste espectacular,” the Spaniard commented. “Not many are brave to take a plunge in January.”

“So only my bravery impresses you?”

“Monteirian,” Julien pointed out. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

Ridley combed her drenched hair out of her face. “Pay him no mind,” Angel ordered then tilted Ridley’s head up to his. “The last time he had any real fun, he bankrupted the United States, Germany and Britain.” The huntress wiped her nose and sniffled. “You just be freezing by now. Here,” he stated and handed her the towel that was on his chair. He sat down an beckoned her to settle on his lap. “I never caught your name.”

“Artemisia,” Ridley lied after seeing a snipet of the Italian artist’s piece inside. “Artemisia le Roux.”

“Really,” Julien asked. “I swear you look just like a du Luq.” Ridley maintained her composure with a shrug. “You’ve never heard of them?” He chuckled menacingly to himself.

“Lucky girl. A family of self-righteous traitors,” Randall stated while combing out his ginger curls. “Wouldna turn away a dyin’ hunter on their doorstep!”

Julien waved him off coolly. “The du Luqs are France’s last noble family. They narrowly escaped the guillotine. The two women, Dominique and... the wallflower... they raised their sister’s bastard. Made him head of the estate. He’s perhaps the biggest traitor among them.”

“That idiot hasn’t recovered since his wife and daughter died.” Ridley swallowed her surprise from the revelation. “Beheaded at the guillotine. Two humans.” The four men gagged at Ryo’s words.

“Enough trash talk, gents,” Angel ordered. “Don’t taint my lady.” He looked back at Ridley, cupping what he could of her behind. “Tell me, Artemisia, tell me about yourself.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Ridley replied. “I’m only twenty-two.”

“Well, I’m twenty-five,” Angel stated. “I graduated from INSA Lyon. Bachelors of aerospace engineering. I’m starting an apprenticeship at the Smithsonian, in America over the summer. I’m originally from Albarracín. It’s an invisible little town in hills. I’m in France for the culture and the women,” he purred as his hand trailed lower. “Now your turn.”

“Born and raised in the big city of Corde,” she lied. “Screw university. That’s it.”

“What brings you to France?”

Ridley slouched slightly then clutched the towel around her tighter. “Truth?” Angel nodded while his friends were back to women hunting. Ridley sighed defeatedly then felt herself go. “I ran away from home. My sister died before Christmas and... it was my fault. My parents don’t get it. I thought coming here would help me but... I met people who loved me after knowing me for two minutes. I try not to let them get to me and yet... it’s... it’s hard not to.”

“The French are a colourful people,” Angel confirmed with a nod. Ridley gave him a small smile, despite the cold brush against. “Well, Señorita Artemisia, shall we take this inside before you become an icicle?”

“I’d love to,” she purred. Angel gathered her bridal style and cradled her inside. Over his shoulder, Ridley saw how Tomás and Sebastian were watching her in fearful disbelief. “So, where are we going?”

“Julien has graciously allowed me to make myself at home in his humble abode, while I await the summer. I guess you could say I’m hibernating,” he joked. “You know, most animals hibernate in pairs?”

Ridley smirked up at him. “So we’re going to sleep? During a bacchanalia? That sounds like a terrible idea.”

Still Angel stepped into his bedroom and laid Ridley on his bed. He settled beside her and she combed through his dark hair. “Sleep isn’t quite what I was thinking,” he whispered seductively as his hand trailed down the corset’s laces.

He leaned his face close to hers. Behind him was an acoustic guitar on the stand, signed by Elvis Presley. “Is it true all Spaniards play guitar?”

“No,” he replied softly. “But I’ll strum yours if you let me.”

“I’m not a fan of fingers,” Ridley countered.

Angel pinned her to the bed and rested his weight on top of her. “Hm. So you’re the ‘look mama, no hands’ type? I can work with that.”

His lips pressed against hers and Ridley clenched her first to hold back. Angel’s fingers started at the laces while she peeled him out of his jacket. The goldblood trailed kisses down her neck and into her lacing. She hummed at the feel of how soft his lips were. His hair was equally soft from her fingers combing through it.

He pressed his lips deep into her neck, making her gasp for air. Angel chuckled into her chest and she matched his humour. His hands laced into hers while he bit into her neck. Ridley moaned uneasily then freed a hand. “Wait,” she pleaded.

Angel looked down at her with black and gold blood dripping from his lip. A drop of her blood dripped onto her chest, catching his attention. “What,” he asked himself while taking in the black merged into gold. His eyes raised to Ridley’s who braced herself. “That’s cool.” He leaned in closer. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

His lips captured hers again. She hummed then relaxed but her eyes flared open. “No,” she began then cupped his cheek. “You’re not... you’re not Dane.”

“Dane?”

“I’m sorry, Angel.”

She planted her knee into his loin then shoved him off her. She grabbed the nearest pillow and smothered it over his face. The goldblood frantically jerked beneath her in vain. He slowed down before he passed out. Ensuring he was still among the living, Ridley took her exit cue.

“Where’s Sebastian and Tomás,” she asked the silence while modelling down the hallway.

Tomás is trying to convince a guard to let him up to the second floor. Sebastian is searching for a different way to you.

She nodded to herself then took to the stairs to the third floor. “Third floor. Ming Dynasty vase. Bottom drawer. Janus,” Ridley stated. “Janus. Janus. Janus.”

On the third floor where two guards. One atop the stairs and one further down the walkway. ”Arrêter,” the guard at the stairs ordered. “The party is downstairs,” he stated firmly.

"Désolé, monsieur,” she replied. “The bathroom?”

“Down there,” the guard stated. “On your right. It’s the door with...” she punch him in the jaw.

The man towered over her but still stammered backwards. Along the walls were famous weapons from history. As the first guard recovered and the second came charging for her, Ridley grabbed hold of the maul hammer.

She swung it into the second’s head and swomped it under the first’s feet. She stabbed the second with the sharp end. She bashed in the first’s head with the hammer. She hammered the second in the head, knocking him out. She bashed at the first repetitively before kicking him into a wall. She smashed the hammer over his head.

To her right - at the end of the wall - was a Chinese vase. With a huff, to blow her hair out her face, Ridley discarded the maul. You better hurry! Security is already on the second floor. She ran for the vase. The table it was on slide aside with ease from the rack and pinion between the vase and the wall.

Behind the vase was a keypad. 5-2-6-8-7. Also spelled as ‘Janus’. The vault-like door hissed before the bolts unlocked. ”Arrêter,” the wave of guards roared. ”Arrêter!”

Ridley ducked into the study and slammed the door shut, locking herself inside. “Third floor. Ming Dynasty vase. Bottom drawer,” Ridley retraced. She rounded the desk and pried open the bottom drawer. “Underneath the portfolios of his house models.” She unpacked the files of nude and explicit photographs. “Universal Serial Bus,” she concluded, taking out the USB.

“Get Tomás and Sebastian to the car.”

They’re on their way. Just you. The window behind you leads to the tennis court. I’m just passed there. I’d hurry; Julien is pissed off with a gun coming for you.

Ridley grabbed the desk chair and flung it through the window when it wouldn’t open. She looked out the window at how far below the ground was. “Did not think this through,” she stated. She dove out.

White flames spewed out of her palms, slowing down her decent. She took off sprinting towards the tennis court. By the faint light that seeped from the house, she could barely make out Tomás scrambling into the limousine. She cramped in beside him while Sebastian was pouring himself water.

“How did we do that,” he directed to Tomás. “What was that?”

Tomás instinctively looked at Ridley while their limo cruised off. “Don’t look at me. I know shit.”

“We knew to come here. How,” Tomás pressed.

“Like I said," Ridley persisted. "I. Know. Shit.”