Griffin
I twist the knob slowly, easing the door open on its slightly squeaking hinges. It falls open the barest inch under my touch, light from the hall cutting a slice out of the darkness beyond.
The sliver of illumination falls onto Kalista where she lies on the bed, her eyes closed, newly darkened hair cascading across the pillow behind her.
At the disturbance, her breathing hitches ever so slightly, her body sensing the change in the room. Her mouth opens, an unspoken question on her lips that draws my eyes directly to them. It’s only a second before the rise and fall of her chest normalizes, though.
Definitely asleep.
I pull the door quietly shut again, smiling to myself at the thought of her prone form.
Despite what the movies show us, most people aren’t attractive when sleeping. There are drawbacks to that level of comfort.
Kalista, on the other hand, looks every bit the fairy tale princess.
It takes all my willpower not to go in and steal a kiss. Her lips, like the rest of her, seem to draw me like a magnet. I stand for a moment, imagining the way my hands could slide across her, the things I could do to her exquisite body.
Instead, I let my hand fall from the doorknob and turn away, walking quickly down the hall and back towards the front door.
We’ve situated ourselves in an upper level pied-a-terre. Shortly after arriving, Kalista found her bed and drifted off. After the day we’ve had, I was more than tempted to join her.
Even more so now.
I groan slightly as I head out the door, images of her sprawled across the bed heavy in my mind.
Duty calls though. I force my thoughts back to business as I descend in the elevator, making a mental checklist of the things I need to do.
Two minutes and I’m on the street outside, striding quickly along the sidewalk.
The bar at the end of the block shines brightly out at me, looking especially inviting in the late evening gloom.
I make a beeline for it, feet slapping against the cement.
The moment I walk through the door, I’m assailed by the heavy odors present in bars the world over. Thick, cloying smells wash over me in a wave—stale cigarettes, whisky, a faint undertone of desperation.
It’s almost comforting, really.
No matter where you go, the local watering hole always feels just like any other.
I take a deep breath of the lingering scents as I make my way inside, my eyes roving quickly across the space.
I spot my table immediately, its residence sticking out in the crowd.
I raise a hand in greeting as their eyes find me, walking through the fog of intoxicated people.
“You’re late,” Janus says, eyeing me speculatively.
“Sorry,” I scurried, taking my seat. “It’s been a long day.”
He pushes a drink in my direction, dark beer glistening in the glass.
“Tell me about it.”
Janus, better known as “Janus the Jackal,” is an expert forger…among other things. Smuggling and disguises, he runs the gamut of the underground, which naturally makes him one hell of an ally.
I nod in thanks as I pick up my glass, the tangy liquid burning a path down my throat.
“Well, what’s all the fuss then?” the man to my left asks.
I turn towards him, The Leviathan, first class hacker. I don’t think there’s a firewall in creation that this guy can’t scale. Moreover, he makes it look damn easy.
“I need some information,” I tell him.
The three of us are old friends. We’re members of the Gentlemen Brotherhood and each one of us have our own specialty. Together, we’re quite the force to be reckoned with.
“What is it?” Leviathan asks, leaning forward onto his elbows.
“I need to know if there’s any chatter online about an attempted kidnapping.”
He raises an eyebrow in question.
“Kalista von Knopf. Yes. That one was almost abducted. I need to know if anyone’s talking about it.”
“Looking for anything specific?”
“Outside of an admission of guilt?” I joke. “Not really. I’ll take anything you can give me. Try to get a lock on who did it, but any leads will help.”
“Consider it done.”
I turn my attention back to Janus, who sits with an expectant grin on his face.
“Yes?” he asks.
“I’m gonna need documents, papers, and ID. Von Knopf is a bit too recognizable.”
He nods once. “Got it.”
“Thanks.” I say, draining the last of my beer.
“Anything else?” Leviathan asks mischievously.
“Nothing, for now.”
“Okay good. So, while we’re here, let’s set something up for Marrakesh.”
Marrakesh is a big job we’ve had in the works for a while now. We could work out the details right now, but as it happens, we’re short a member.
“Right, let’s rendezvous again when we have everyone.”
We talk in hushed voices, arranging a meeting for the near future. By the time we’ve finished, we’ve each ordered and drained another beer.
As I stand to leave, I’m feeling the subtle effects of the drinks.
“Alright, sounds good,” I announce, pulling my jacket from the back of the chair where I left it. “Let me know when you have the papers and that info Janus.”
I nod towards Leviathan.
“Sure.”
“No problem,” Janus pipes up.
“Okay, until next time.”
I give a small salute, turning to head for the door.
All in all, not a bad meeting. If I can get Kalista her new documentation and get at least one lead on the kidnapping, we should be okay.
I step back into the crisp night air, now feeling confident about this whole mess.
With the Gentlemen Brotherhood on it, this should be a cakewalk.
The combination of beer and a situation well in hand wash over me as I begin to walk back towards the pied-a-terre.
By the time I’ve gone a few feet, I’m whistling.