The Fletchers lived in Downtown Rayview, in the more obstinate penthouses on the ocean front. The elevator trip up to the front door was the longest one I'd been on in my entire life.
Mallory fussed with her thick brown hair in the mirror of the elevator, debating whether she should toss the bulk of it to the left or the right. She sighed and abandoned the task all together, unbuttoning one of the buttons on her crisp white uniform shirt, just revealing the hem of her lacy black bra (at which point I decided that I probably needed to avert my gaze) and pushing the sleeves up to her elbows.
It was a truly fascinating ritual, one that I hadn't ever seen displayed before me in real life. Mostly because my only friend was Sofiane, and his idea of getting ready was spraying himself with copious amounts of deodorant and asking if he still smelled.
Oh, Sofiane. That big, dumb idiot. If we failed, and Miss Kelly...stayed true to the deal...I don't know what I would do with myself.
"Hey."
I was startled slightly by the sound of her voice, but her tentative smile soothed me, if only slightly. Rebecca.
I turned to face her, leaning the majority of my weight onto the elevator wall. "Hey."
She bit the inside of her cheek as she looked at me, her green eyes carefully studying my face. She bumped her knee into mine. "He's going to be okay, Cassandra."
I smiled down at my knee, at the patch of skin her own had christened. I was feeling bashful all of a sudden. Tired. I simply did not have the energy for the usual Cass Bullshit. "How do you know that though?"
She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. "The power of positive thinking?"
I snorted.
"Seriously. I'm here. I know you like doing things alone. And after what happened earlier today, I'm probably not...not your favorite person right now but," She reached out and placed a warm, soft hand on my wrist. "I'm here for you if you want me to be."
I opened my mouth, about to tell her that she could not imagine the extent to which I wanted her to be here when the elevator dinged and the purple holographic above the door changed from the usual run of numbers to a Times New Roman P.
"It looks like we've arrived, ladies." Mallory observed. She turned to us. "Are you ready?"
"Uh—"
"Yup!" Rebecca straightened, and her hand fell away from my wrist so quickly I was hardly sure it had ever been there in the first place. "Or, at least I'm trying to manifest readiness."
"Yeah. I'm sure you are. Cass?"
"Well, I mean..." I looked from Rebecca's deflated posture to Mallory's raised eyebrows and suddenly felt pressure once more to be Big Scary Cass with Scared Cass energy. Still, I rolled my eyes and pushed myself from the wall. "Are you ready, Mallory? Sure you don't need to touch up your lipstick before we go in?"
"Oh!" She exclaimed as the doors hissed open. She walked into the party with her head down, digging through her purse. "Thank's for reminding me."
I frowned at her, but my silent judgment was soon cut off when I saw the pandemonium that was Max Fletcher's Post Game Mixer.
The expansive, ridiculously expensive space before me was not the image that came to mind when I thought of apartments, and not the Las Vegasian display before me when I thought of high school house parties.
There was a proper DJ set up on the far wall in front of one of many floor to ceiling windows, the music reverberating through the polished, hardwood floors. Floating orbs bathed the teenaged (although, they didn't all look like teens to me) bodies below in shifting hues of purple and green and blue. And there were people everywhere. By the elevator, on the "dance floor," on the staircase, and some even on the ceiling and walls.
That was the most exciting part to me, the magic that hummed through the air. I could feel my own magic begin to perk up, a non existent wind ruffling my hair.
Mallory must have noticed, because she glanced over at me and chuckled. "Try not to get too excited, Landry." She looked forward and crossed her arms, her eyes scanning the crowd. "We are on a mission here, after all."
"What's the plan?" Rebecca asked.
"Well," I started, quieting my magic. "If I stole the last remaining Old Stone in existence, I probably wouldn't keep it in my underwear drawer. A guy like this, with his own personal army, he's going to have some sort of high security safe, warded up the wazoo."
"So not only do we need to find the lock..." Rebecca started.
"We need the key." I finished.
Mallory nodded. "Great. So I'm gonna go find Max?"
"Is your boyfriend seriously the only thing you have space in your head for?"
She frowned at me. "What?"
"Going to see Max when we are in the middle of heisting an ultra rare, largely non existent artifact doesn't seem, I don't know, a little bit off to you?"
"Mm. Interesting question can I...can I pose one of my own? I get Rebecca's deal but are you...willfully obtuse, or do you just stumble into stupidity on accident?"
I squinted down at her. "Willfully. Mostly. Sometimes. What does that have to do with anything?"
She rolled her eyes, only it incorporated her whole body. "We need the password or whatever, right? Max is probably our best bet at getting it."
I blinked at her.
"That makes a lot of sense, Mallory." Came Rebecca, meek and hesitant.
"I know." She said. "I've got Max, and you guys are looking around for where the OS might be hidden, k?" She was already backing into the crowd.
"OS? What does that mean?"
She winked at me. "Old Stone, darling. Try to keep up, yeah!" She was gone before I could think up a retort to that.
I swallowed and looked back to Rebecca, who I was both delighted and terrified to find was looking at me just as intently. I took a step back unconsciously, thought that felt a bit rude, and took a step toward her. Was this too close? I could smell her...some sort of fruit scented hygienic product. I put my hands in my pockets and tried and failed to get my brain to shut up.
I coughed. "So."
She nodded. "The OS."
"Yeah!" I laughed (too loud? Not long enough?) "Uh...let's get looking I guess."
She nodded again, and together we dove head first into the crowd. I looked on at a group of kids stood around a chair they'd just animated, giggling uncontrollably as it stumbled around the pocket of space they'd carved out for it. My magic flared up again, cool air grazing my skin, raising the hair on my arms.
Rebecca shivered beside me.
"Sorry..." I mumbled, trying once more to regain control of my magic.
She shook her head. "No, it's not you, its just...Mallory just get's to me, you know?"
My heart dropped when I saw her face. It was the kind of face reserved only for times when you wanted to up and disappear. And I would know. It was kind of my resting expression. But for someone as bright and as kind as Rebecca...it didn't make any sense on her features. "I'm sorry about her. She—"
She shook her head, crossing her arms. "No, I know. I shouldn't listen to her because that's just giving her exactly what she wants but—" She shuddered when she tried to breathe, and her bright green eyes were turning pink with the threat of tears.
"Hey," I pulled her into myself (a bit awkwardly being as she was taller than me) and rubbed her arm. "It's alright, Rebecca. You..." Fuck. I was way out of my lane here. How do you deal with crying girls?
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be...we need to focus. Dr. Alvarado...Miss Kelly...your friend..."
"We have a minute." I said, glancing over at the ornate clock on the wall beside us. Seven oh three. More than a minute, but not by much. I ran a hand through my hair, looking over the chaos of the party, trying to decide.
My eyes landed on Mallory. She was across the room with her back to the wall, smiling. Smiling up at Max, who stood in front of her, close (very close). She was playing with the zipper on his jacket, and he was bending down to whisper something in her ear. I swallowed and looked away.
There was also a hallway quite a ways from that image, sitting dark, empty, and ominous amongst the festivities, one of the few places the neon lights that flooded the house didn't touch. My hand slid down to Rebecca's. "Come on. Over here."
She sniffed. "Huh?"
"It looks quieter over there. We can talk."
"Cass..."
"Plus, I don't think the OS would be hidden out in the open."
She nodded slowly and didn't fight me as I led us through the crowd, looking back every once in a while to make sure she was still with me. Her eyes glowed yellow, pink, green in the flashing, and the honey gold of her hair played with the colored lights so beautifully I myself almost felt like crying. And I knew that if Sofiane had heard those thoughts, or even seen the way I was looking at her, I would never hear the end of it. I walked faster, used my elbows to force my way through, but I felt as though I was moving even slower than before.
We finally reached the seclusion of the hallway, and throwing no more than a glance over my shoulder I pushed open the first door I saw.
Rebecca switched on the light as I pressed the door closed behind us. I turned around and was greeted by the sight of a bedroom that reminded me a lot of a hotel. Inoffensive sheets pulled taunt over a mattress, a bare desk pushed into the corner facing a wide window. There were even towels folded on top of the dresser drawer, and two unopened water bottles beneath it.
I chuckled. "What do you think? An alien's impression of a guest room, or is this house listed on Air BNB?"
Rebecca started to full out cry.
Oh crap.
I forgot.
"Uh...hey, sit down, yeah? Um..." I guided her to the bed and pushed her shoulders gently to sit her down. I stood in front of her awkwardly as she continued crying. "I'm sorry. I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not really good. At. This."
She shook her head, her shoulders rising sharply. "It's okay. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Rebecca, really. I'm the one that should be sorry. I'm the one that...caused all this."
"That's just it, Cassandra." She looked up at me, her face puffy and red and wet. "You didn't cause any of this. I did. It's my fault."
I laughed, shaking my head. "What? No, Rebecca, you didn't—"
"Yes, Cass, I did." She wiped her face with her sleeve, trying to compose herself, to control her breathing. "Dr. Alvarado is dead because of me. I killed her."