— 𝖎 𝖍𝖆𝖉 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖉 – 𝖜𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖘
"𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 to mingle after all," came Anthony's voice from behind her. Eden turned from where she had watched Penelope go and gave him a half-smile. He gestured to Penelope's retreating figure with his chin. "What did she want? What did she say?"
Eden shook her head. "Oh, just catching up," she fibbed. It wasn't a total lie, but also wasn't the total truth. She straightened her shoulders and brushed past him. "Now, come on. We've got a job to do."
They didn't need George's map—Eden was able to lead them where they needed to go. She managed to duck around corners and bring Anthony closer to where they needed to be without being caught by a partygoer or security team member. As they walked, Eden could feel Anthony glancing at her and could feel that he wanted to say something.
Finally, he did. "Did she ask you to come back?"
The auburn-haired girl stopped in her tracks. She glanced at Anthony, brows drawn. "How did you know that?"
"What I would've done if I were her," Anthony admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets, shifting as he stood there. "If I were you, I'd have bitten her hand off."
Eden tilted her head. "Why?"
He gestured to the building they were in. "Because I can't compete with this."
"I never asked you to," she reminded him. "I-I don't want you to."
Anthony let out a sigh and Eden stepped forward, head stooping low to try and meet his eyes, which were slightly downcast. "W-What's going on, then?" he questioned, dark eyes meeting hers.
She shook her head. "I—I have no idea what you're talking about," she told him honestly.
"Look, I saw you talking to Kipps earlier outside," Anthony stated, his face flushing slightly as he admitted what had been bothering him.
Eden sighed. "Oh."
"Yeah," Anthony muttered, looking at her expectantly. "So?"
The girl tucked her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before she blew air through her teeth. "Well, he . . . asked me to come back, too," she admitted, her throat suddenly immensely dry. "And asked me out for coffee."
Anthony's brows pinched together. "Coffee?" he repeated distantly.
"Yeah, like . . . ," Eden added with a small shrug of her shoulders, "hanging out, I guess?"
"Like . . . a date?"
There was a tremble in Anthony's voice, so undetectable but still so present. Eden fooled herself into thinking she'd heard it, because she didn't entirely think that Anthony would care so much. Of course, she wanted him to, but she could never read him. Often, it felt like her pining was one-sided and a waste of time, yet something always brought her back to him. Still, she wondered why he cared so much. "Would that . . . be so hard to believe?" she asked, swallowing thickly against her paper-dry throat. Anthony didn't respond, but his face softened. "I turned him down. I could never come back here. I realize now that there's too much concrete and no smell of burnt toast, which I've come to enjoy." Anthony laughed quietly as she smiled at him. "Portland Row is my home. You and George." She shook her head, keeping her eyes on his. "I'm not going anywhere." Anthony nodded, relief loosening the tension in his tense shoulders. She gestured down the hallway that they were in. "Now come on."
Eden grabbed his arm and continued leading him toward their destination, which was down by the elevators. She had never been inside the Black Library, but had heard Penelope speak about it on a few occasions. She had never questioned what was inside—she just figured it was high security storage, except now, she knew that answers to several of their questions lay behind closed, locked doors.
There were two steel doors—the one on the left was a normal lift, but the one of the right had a special keypad. Eden had always been told to tell people it was for the maintenance workers in the building, but she knew what was behind it. "Did George give us a code?" she asked Anthony as they walked up to the door. "Even if I did know it at one point, it would likely change all the time."
Anthony scanned the paper, then pointed with a slim finger. "Yeah, it's one-eight-eight-eight."
Eden punched the code in and waited. The door was silent for a moment, then beeped, the steel doors sliding open. She glanced at Anthony and raised her eyebrows, a clever smirk on her face. They stepped inside the lift as Anthony muttered a, "Nice one, George," as the doors closed behind them.
When the doors opened again, they opened into an ornate, but simple room. It was large, with leather couches in the corners around tables, silver-glass display cases holding what appeared to be relics, and a few shelves of books.
"Pick a place to start," Anthony said from behind her as the doors to the lift closed behind them. "I'll check the index."
He went off in search of the index and Eden moved slowly toward the display case in front of her. It seemed to be holding some sort of antique comb set, but what was most suspicious to her was the insignia on the box at the center of it all. "That harp . . . " she trailed off, remembering the same symbol had been on the goggles that George had stolen from Fairfax after Combe Carey Hall and on the boxes that DEPRAC had removed from the scene.
Never before had Eden seen it. Her stomach suddenly rolled with a dreadful twist. She feared that maybe there was something she hadn't been told while she was working at Fittes and living under Penelope's roof.
Something . . . sinister.
"I've got it," Anthony spoke, pulling her out of her thoughts. He was already heading toward the bookshelves. "C-four-fifty-two. Check the numbers on the spines." Eden glanced at the display case once more before moving over to the bookshelves. She ran her fingers across the spines, searching for the right book. The titles were in alphabetically order instead of the author's name. She moved down the row, her eyes scanning, when Anthony spoke behind her. "Gotcha." She turned, finding that he was holding a thin, hardcover book in his hands. "Let's see what she's got to confess to."
A sharp, loud clicking sound penetrated the air. Both looked over their shoulders and Eden released a surprised gasp as the lift started to hum to life. Anthony's hand flew to Eden's waist as hers reached for his arm, but there were no spots that they could hide in together. They jumped apart and stood with their backs to the sides of the two bookshelves as the lift opened.
"It'll be quieter in here," came Penelope's voice from somewhere in the room. "So, what have they been saying?"
"Some of the members are getting restless," a man's voice spoke in response. Eden held her breath and inched along the bookshelf, turning her head to glimpse who Penelope might have been talking to. "They feel you're not helping sufficiently with their work."
"Exactly. Their work," Penelope replied as Eden caught a quick glance of the man—he appeared young, dressed far too casual for a party, with long hair tied back into a bun. "If they're not up to the challenge, I fail to see how that's my problem. I'm not their nursemaid."
"Well, quite," the man responded. Eden straightened, turning her head to find Anthony pocketing the book in his breast pocket. "But you are their inspiration."
"They'd do well not to forget that," Penelope hummed. "But I do have something for you to pass along. Quell their complaining." Eden held her breath once more and peeked behind the bookshelf, watching as Penelope opened up the display case that she had been looking at previously. She handed the man the box with the harp insignia on it. "Repaired and tested. It's working again. You can tell them it's a token of goodwill. From their inspiration."
"Lucky them," the man muttered.
Penelope hummed. "I'm going back where I'm appreciated. I'd offer you a drink, but I'm sure you have somewhere more . . . exciting to be."
The man was the one to hum this time. "I'll hang back a few minutes," he spoke. "We don't want to set tongues wagging."
"Oh, quite," Penelope nearly scoffed.
She floated away from the man, toward the door. Eden waited for the man's footsteps to follow, but found that they didn't—they drew closer to where they were standing. Anthony was looking behind himself, watching as the man—who had something like a decked out rapier on his hip—walked over to the index. He retrieved the map that George had given him that Anthony had mistakenly left on top of the drawer.
Looking over at Eden, Anthony whispered, "We need to go."
Eden nodded in agreement.
The sound of the man drawing his sword caused Eden to jump the slightest. His footsteps began to approach and Anthony looked to the auburn-haired girl, nodding. "Now," he practically mouthed.
She slipped around the opposite side of the bookshelf quietly, slowly, as to not make any noise. And she had almost made it to the front of the shelf when she stopped dead in her tracks, watching as the man held his blade out in front of Anthony, who had clearly not been expecting it.
"In a hurry?" the man asked, the tip of it pointed right at Anthony's throat. Eden's heart jumped out of her chest as she quickly tried to devise a plan on how to stall time or get him out of the situation. "Easy, now. You wouldn't want my blade to slip. It's very sharp."
"And it's very nice," Anthony complimented, his voice low. "Is it real gold?"
The man was not impressed. "Who are you?"
"Just a guest of the party," Anthony stated with a short chuckle. "I got lost on my way to—"
"Didn't use your map?" the man interjected, holding up the paper George had given them.
Anthony pulled his best surprised face. "I've never seen that before in my life," he lied, rather convincingly, if Eden had to say.
"Whoever gave it to you worked here," the man continued, keeping his blade steady at Anthony's throat. He glanced beside him, at the book on display, and then back at the man. "Are you an agent?"
Eden took a breath. She'd made her plan, now she just had to hope that Anthony would follow through with it without knowing about it. She turned and moved back the same way she had come, crossing both bookshelves until she was behind the same one that Anthony had been hiding behind previously. She dropped her shoulders, pushed her cheeks into a cheeky smile, and put on her best floaty, giggling voice.
"My love?" she called out, her voice hushed but light. "Where are you?"
She came around the corner as Anthony turned his body so that he could still keep an eye on the man in front of him, but also watch her as she sauntered over to him. Her smile was wide, her face flushed, and he seemed to understand almost immediately what kind of distraction she was trying to pull. He let one of his arms curl around her waist as she neared him, pulling her into him.
"Just got a little lost, darling," he assured her and she giggled, sliding a hand up his chest.
"Well, we only have so much time now," she told him, her hand resting on his neck, "before people will start asking questions."
She giggled again, using her hand to pull him down to her level, planting her lips just mere centimeters from his own. She ignored the absolute frenzy that it sent her stomach into and kept reminding herself that it was for the illusion. Anthony let out a small laugh as she pulled away with a grin, running his opposite hand up and down her arm. The man had still not moved a muscle, and when it was obvious that Eden's plan of making him uncomfortable wasn't going to work, she knew she had to improvise.
Eden turned her head and pretended to notice the man for the first time. "Oh! I'm sorry," she apologized, letting her fingers play with the lapels of Anthony's jacket. "I didn't realize you had company."
"No worries," he stated, nodding back to the man as Eden rested her head on his chest. "I was just asking about the construction of his blade."
She gasped, hoping the man was buying her tipsy act. "Ooh, it's gold! Is it real?"
Anthony chuckled. "It must be some sort of alloy," he responded. Then, to the man, he asked, "Is it gold-plated? It's a bit tacky."
Eden hummed boredly, her fingers tracing shapes on Anthony's jacket-clad shoulder. "Tick tock, my love," she sighed, almost dreamily. "There'll only be so much time, now."
"Of course, darling," Anthony agreed, pressing his lips against her temple. Eden giggled, her face flushing automatically, and though on any other day she would have cursed herself, it added to the same illusion that they were harmless teens infatuated with each other. "We really should go, and . . . " He chuckled, glancing at her. Eden pulled her best mischievous smile—one that hopefully appeared to this man like they had planned some clandestine meeting in the midst of the party as to not be interrupted. Anthony returned her smile, the arm around her waist sliding down to rest along her lower back, his hand against her hip. "Well, we've something to do and little time to do it. We'll have to be back before her mother can't find her."
The man glanced at Eden, his brows pinching. Something like recognition crossed his eyes—she figured that he must have realized that she had ties to Penelope—and for a split second, he was distracted. Quickly, Eden pushed away from Anthony and he reached for the book on display right beside him, taking hold of it and smacking it into the man's blade.
Eden turned around and sprinted around the bookshelves, making her way to the other side of the room while the man swung his blade at Anthony, who only had the book to defend himself. He managed it fairly way, avoiding and ducking out of what could have been painful and fatal strokes, until he raised the book in front of his face in defense and the man rammed his blade clear through the book. The tip of it nearly touched Anthony's nose.
There was a small step ladder on wheels by Eden's feet. She kicked it across the room with all her might and watched as the man and Anthony jumped away from each other to avoid being hit with it. Her momentary distraction gave Anthony enough time to put some distance between him and the man. He threw the book he had been holding and though the man slashed at it, Anthony was able to turn and run, heading back the way that they had come in with Eden in tow.
The two ran, laughing in disbelief as they returned to more populated areas of the Fittes building, ignoring the blushes that were warm and prominent on both of their cheeks. It wasn't until they got back to the main party room and started to make their way down the stairs to get to the exit doors that Eden realized something was up. There were suited men standing at all of the doors, not letting anyone in or out.
"Fucking hell, they're onto us," she muttered. "They're blocking all the exits." The suited men only seemed to multiple and they looked rather menacing as they convened, likely discussing what plans to take. Eden's heart launched into her throat, remembering the times in which those same guards would trap her when she wanted to avoid going on a job. How they flanked her on all sides and dragged her carelessly toward the meeting rooms. "There's another four of them." Her chest started heaving as she realized they were trapped. She was trapped. Again. They were going to find her. Again. She turned to look at Anthony. "You haven't got a plan, have you?"
He glanced at her, resting his hand on the small of her back comfortingly as he turned to look at the wall behind them. "Well, I didn't, but now I do," he replied. "I think."
Leading Eden down the stairs, he swung around a bend and headed straight for the salt sprinklers that were built into the wall. He opened the door and pulled the lever, resulting in a fluorescent lavender hue to overtake the once warmly-lit ballroom. The guests around them gasped as the sprinklers began to rain salt. The public address system began to explain that guests should remain calm and make their way toward the nearest exit.
Eden looked over at Anthony, a bright smile on her face. Her heart had calmed from seeing the guards, but it only continued to race as Anthony looked back at her, a smirk on his face. He started forward and Eden followed, running down the stairs with him, careful not to trip on the skirt of her dress. It was chaos all around them, with the adults running and shrieking in terror at some wayward ghost possibly coming to haunt them.
As the two reached the bottom of the staircase, Anthony turned to the auburn-haired girl beside him, holding out his hand. "This party's dead. Wanna ditch it with me?"
Eden smiled, placing her hand in his. "Absolutely."
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author's note:
so i'm just gonna leave this here . . .
lol but tbh i decided to double post because this is the end of episode 6! thank you to all the readers, voters, and commenters! you make me want to just keep on writing!
the distraction/deflection scene was one of the first i thought of for this fic, even before eden was named and her story ironed out. i love scenes like that, and knew that this would be a perfect opportunity to write one of my own! so let me know how i did!