Banksy took a deep breath as the carriage pulled up to the manor. Cross and Romeo had arrived earlier. Under Lexi’s orders, they were to work under the pretense that they were strangers. It was probably a good idea, showing up as a trio would only arouse suspicion. Considering Servilia had forged all of their backgrounds, well, all of their backgrounds except Romeo who was, in fact, a noble, the last thing they needed to do was draw unnecessary attention to themselves.

“Right, right, right. I’m supposed to be here. I am a noble. I am rich and powerful. My dad can pay off any trouble I get into. I pretend that I have worked hard to get where I am when really, I can’t actually fail. Right. Come on, Banksy. You can do this. You can do this.”

The clothing he was wearing suddenly felt very suffocating and he tugged at the collar. It offered him no relief as he felt the driver move from the driver’s seat and move around to the door. He sucked in a deep breath and put on his most haughty face as the door opened. With a curt nod to the driver he stepped out into the night air.

It was cold. It felt good against his almost feverish skin. The manor was large. No, that was an understatement. It was one of the largest buildings he had ever seen that wasn’t owned by the Crown or the Church.

“Sir?” An attendant appeared in front of him. “May I see your invitation, please?”

“What?” Banksy blinked. “Oh, yes, of course. Here.”

The invitation itself was not a forgery. Servilia had ways of getting what she wanted and Banksy never really felt the need to question her. Still, Banksy’s anxiety ratcheted up another notch as the attendant stared at the paper.

“Very good, Mr. Bank. Please, follow me.”

Banksy gave what he hoped came off as an aloof nod of his head and followed the attendant into the manor proper. His freshly polished shoes clacked almost too loudly against the marble floors as the attendant led him deeper into the manor. Banksy used the time to begin his mental map of the building. It seemed to follow a classic symmetrical pattern often found in Voy architecture. That was good. He would be able to make some assumptions about the layout already.

“The others are waiting in here. Please, make yourself at home,” the attendant said as they reached a great pair of doors. With a short bow, he opened the door for Banksy. Banksy stepped in and nearly flinched as another man on the other side suddenly barked out his name.

“Presenting Nathanial Bank!”

Suddenly many unfamiliar eyes were upon him. Banksy kept his face passive as he ran his eyes over the assembly. All men, just like Lexi had said. Standing somewhere in the middle, with a glass of Champaign was Romeo. He looked bored.

Off to the side, Cross was almost hidden in a corner. He eyed the rest of the assembly with barely hidden contempt.

“Well, no surprises there,” Banksy sighed to himself as the occupants of the room quickly grew bored with the new intrusion and returned back to their earlier conversations or silence. All save one, who glided across the floor towards Banksy.

“You there, Bank, was it?” he tilted his head. His accent was barely perceivable, but Banksy could still tell he was from Dumas.

“Yes?”

“Bank. Bank, Bank, Bank. I don’t believe I have heard of your house.” He ran his eyes up and down Banksy’s form. “Gorin, I take it?”

“Yes.”

“Must be a rather small house.” He sniffed. “Though, most houses of Gorin are small, aren’t they?”

Despite not actually being a noble of Gorin, Banksy found the slight quite annoying. With effort, he managed to keep his face neutral. “I don’t believe I know your name. Perhaps I have not heard of your house either.”

“Oh, I very much doubt that. My name is Paul. Paul Fabron. I trust you’ve heard of us.” He gave a wide smile.

“Fabron, of the Fabron Security company?”

“Ah, so you have heard of us.”

Now it was Banksy’s turn to smile. “Oh, of course. Fabron Securities. The number three… oh wait, no, the number five ranked security company. My mistake, you’re only ranked number three in Dumas.”

Paul’s smile thinned. “Rankings can be quite political, you know.”

“Oh, of course, of course.” Banksy lifted a hand to his chin. “Though, forgive me if I am wrong, you recently put out the Diament series safes, right? Supposedly the best, most secure safe ever created. That was quite impressive with the whole reveal and competition. At least, it was, before someone managed to crack it in less than five minutes.”

Paul was no longer smiling. “The Cracker used methods outside of the rules.”

"Rules?” Banksy snorted. “If your safe needs rules in order to function properly, then it might as well be a lump of scrap metal. There are no rules in security. It either works, or it doesn’t. And yours didn’t. But don’t worry, it’s like you said, it’s all political. If it wasn’t, you probably wouldn’t even be ranked top ten.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Now you listen here-”

“Hey, hey, hey, let’s all just calm down, yeah?” Paul went silent as Romeo suddenly appeared next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “You need to relax, Fabs.”

“Lovejoy,” Paul greeted evenly. “I am simply having a discussion.”

“Well, it’s not a private one. If you get any louder, the Widow Black is gonna hear. It’s not very becoming of a Dumas noble. So, why don’t you go ahead and shut up, alright?” Romeo leaned down and dropped his voice. “Because when one noble from Dumas look’s bad, we all look bad. And if you make me look bad, I’ll break your legs.” Romeo beamed. “We all good?”

Paul looked as though he very much wanted to speak, but with Romeo’s much larger arm around his neck, he only nodded. Still smiling, Romeo released him and gave him a small shove. As he mingled back in with the crowd, Romeo turned to Banksy.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Bank. I’m afraid there is still some bad blood between Dumas and Gorin. But please no, I harbor no such feelings. No, I only hate those that deserve it. Like this rather simple, short moron I know who starts fights for no reason.”

“I’m sure there is a reason. Like perhaps he knows a rather excitable idiot who enjoys ruining things because he fails to think them through completely.”

“He sounds like quite the man.” Romeo snagged another glass of champagne off a passing waiter and downed it in a single gulp. “This part is quite lame, you know. You can't have a good party with just dudes. The service is pretty good, but still, you'd think that at least one of the servers would be a woman."

"I don't think the Widow Black really cares about your distaste for the guest list.”

"I'm not the only one though, "Romeo protested. "Look at all these sad lonely bastards trying to work their way into the Black family. Not one smile among them. This is more like a funeral than a party."

"We're not here to enjoy the party,” Banksy said quietly. “We’re not even supposed to be talking."

“It’s fine.” Romeo waved his hand. “I’ve created a natural connection. Besides, it’s more obvious if I don’t talk.”

Banksy couldn’t argue with that. A quiet Romeo was a dangerous Romeo.

The sudden sound of a trumpet brought their conversation to a halt, and a well-dressed butler stepped into the room.

“Sir Christian Cross, if you would be so kind.”

xXx

Cross reached up and rubbed his temple. There was a small pressure in his head that he was having trouble dispelling. It wasn't sharp, which usually indicated imminent danger, but more of a soft, dull pain. Almost like someone was pressing their finger against his temple and pushing down with increasing pressure. Not enough to cause true discomfort, but too much to be completely ignored. Forcing his hand back to his side, he continued to follow the butler on a silent, winding tour through the manor before coming to a stop and opening door.

“Please.” The butler bowed deeply.

The room inside was dark, the only light coming from the last embers of a dying fire. The butler gestured for Cross to enter. Though Cross got the feeling he would rather not, Cross thanked him and entered the room.

It took his eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness and realize that he was not alone in the room. Seated at a small table just off from the fireplace was her.

The Widow Black.

Even in the dim light cast by the fire it was clear to Cross the photo had not done her justice in the least. Her skin was smooth as porcelain, and just as pale. Her thick black hair hung long, framing a smirking face with large, inquisitive eyes that were focused on Cross. She lifted her hand and beckoned him forward with one, long finger.

"You must be Christian," Lilith said. Her voice was deeper than Cross had expected. Thick and husky, it reminded Cross of smoke spilling out from a raging inferno. He felt a small twinge on the edge of his mind. He forced a polite smile onto his face.

"My Lady," Cross said as he gave a small bow as he stopped in front of her. "I am Christian Cross. It is an honor to meet you."

Lilith smiled. "Oh, you're a polite one, Mr. Cross."

"Cross is fine, ma'am.”

"Then you may call me Lilith, if you would like."

Unsure of what else to say Cross glanced at the fire. "Would you like me to stoke the fire?"

"Oh no, I don't think that will be necessary. I find the light to be rather romantic, don't you?"

"I suppose so," Cross said, though he would have preferred more light. He couldn't shake a feeling of unease that continued to creep on the edge of his conscious as Lilith stared at him patiently.

"You're a clairvoyant, are you not?" Lilith said suddenly.

"Oh, yes."

"So, tell me, Cross. What is in my future tonight?"

Lilith stared at Cross and a small smile crept on to her face. Cross found himself stuck, unable to look away until she finally tilted her head expectantly. Cross mentally shook himself.

"I'm afraid my talents as a Seer are rather limited," said Cross.

"That isn't what I heard," Lilith pressed. "While I sadly have no children myself, quite a few of my… I suppose friends is the correct word, have children that spoke very highly of you.”

“Children have a tendency to exaggerate.”

“Perhaps, but they often tell more truth than adults. Though, I do wonder if they were speaking of your skills as a professor, or your appearance. Perhaps both?"

Cross moved closer to the light of the fire. "You've done your research on me."

"And you haven't done the same? Knowledge is indeed power, Cross. I enjoy having both." Lilith laughed. "Though I do admit, I have a tendency to take a more than personal interest in those that come to visit me. At least, those that might be interesting."

"And am I interesting?"

"That is yet to be seen," Lilith said as she stood. "Do you dance?"

Cross blinked. "I'm sorry?"

Lilith spun around slowly, the skirts of her black dress flowing around her. "Dance. Do you?"

Cross suddenly became acutely aware of the soft sound of a string quartet flowing into the room. Before he could even begin to think about where the music was coming from Lilith had slipped her hand into his. On instinct his hand moved down to her hip and he fell into the rhythm of the music.

"So you do dance," Lilith smiled but it quickly faltered as they began to sway to the music. “I’m glad. Who taught you?”

“My mother.”

“How sweet. My mother taught me as well. A memory I will always cherish.” Lilith sighed fondly. “Family is so important, is it not? A treasure that is completely worthless yet priceless all the same.”

Cross didn’t answer for a long time as faces flashed through his mind. Jiana, Servilia, Alice, Lexi, Romeo, Banksy, Makina, Galen. All of the guild.

“You’re right. It’s the most important thing."

She smiled at that. “Do you want children of your own?”

“I haven’t really thought about it.” Cross answered honestly, not expecting the question.

“So the clairvoyant isn’t looking into his own future. How amusing.” Lilith laughed. "But that still leaves me with my original question unanswered. Just what exactly do you see in my future?"

Cross shook his head. "I'm not sure there is much I could tell you that you don't already know."

"Really?" Lilith's movement slow until they were standing still. Cross once again found himself staring in her eyes. They were dark water and Cross found himself drowning. "Do you want to know what I see in my future?"

"Yes." Cross managed to choke out.

"Nothing," Lilith whispered and her eyes changed. Cross couldn't be sure how, but suddenly he found himself free from her gaze as she pressed her head against his shoulder. "I see nothing. There will be nothing in my future, Cross. Nothing but pain and death, and no one will come to save me."

Cross pulled away from Lilith but she was already smiling again, her eyes once again drawing him in and keeping him trapped.

"A joke," she laughed, but the noise rung hollow in Cross's ears. "I'm afraid it was in rather poor taste. But speaking of taste…" Cross's eyes went wide as Lilith leaned forward and breathed in deep through her nose before pressing her lips against his cheek. Dumbfounded, Cross simply stayed as he was until she pulled away, sliding back and out of his grasp. She lifted up a hand and gently patted him on the cheek.

"I'm afraid you're not as interesting as I had hoped. Just not the right… flavor. How unfortunate. You may leave."

Without another word she swept out of the room and Cross was left blinking slowing in the dying embers of the fire.

xXx

Makina rolled back and forth on the bed, her head dangling off the edge and her hair waving back and forth as she moved. When the movement failed to amuse her longer than a few minutes she let out a soft groan of annoyance. Then another, and another, until the room's other occupant finally took notice. Sitting in a chair near the window, Lexi shot Makina a warning look that Makina promptly ignored as she let out another groan.

Lexi sighed. "Yes, Makina?"

"This is so very boring," Makina said, a whine creeping into her voice. "I do not see the point of our presence."

"We are waiting in the reserve. If something were to go wrong then we will move in to assist. Furthermore, as I am in charge of this mission, I will be giving guidance to Cross, Banksy, and Romeo if they need it. It will also be my responsibility to record and interpret any information they report."

"That's so… so boring," Makina moaned. "I do not understand why you do no simply sneak into the manor. You are more than capable of doing so."

"Not so many years ago I would have done that very thing. Well, more likely I would have simply kicked in the doors and attacked anyone in my way," Lexi said with a small smile.

"Oh?" Makina sat up, her eyes lighting up with interest. "What changed? It seems that strategy would be more fitting for you than sitting here waiting.”

Lexi laughed softly. "While there is still merit in that course of action, it's not the only course of action. It took me far longer to learn that than I would care to admit…”