I followed her down into what looked more like a bunker than a basement. It was cramped, barely lit, with no overhead bulbs—just the soft glow of a few display cases. What was inside made my spine go stiff. Not antiques or old, useless clothing. Weapons. Guns with engraved barrels, knives shaped in forms no human should be holding. Some of it looked ancient, holding on to stories that would send a chill down your spine.
And that’s when I saw her, who I could only guess was Manic. A streak of violent red hair, blazing like fire in the dimlight. She had someone, some guy, lifted off the ground as if he were nothing. Just… held there, one hand around his throat, legs dangling. He looked half-dead already, face twisted in panic, clawing at her arm. But she wasn’t even straining, just standing there. Steady and effortless.
No one’sthatstrong.
I almost didn't notice Misfit’s hand on my arm, pulling me toward the wall. My heart was pounding in my chest, not from fear but from witnessing something impossible unfold before me, and I instinctively knew not to ask questions. I pressed my back against the brick beside her, swallowing hard and trying to keep my face unreadable. But my eyes remained fixed on the scene, glued to the car crash before me. Misfit lit a cigarette as if it was just another Tuesday and handed the pack to me without looking.
A man peeled himself away from the shadow’s casual as hell, smoke curling from his mouth as if he was at a bar, not standing five feet from someone getting crushed. He and Misfit talked, their voices calm, almost bored. Like this was normal. Likethishappened all the time.
What the fuck had I walked into?
When Manic screamed again, her voice rose into something feral.
“Oh, hi, Misfit. I hope you’re not here for your pay, ‘coz this fucker’s gambled it all, haven’t you, Jay? CUNT.” Her hand slammed the guy into the display case, the shatter of glass exploding across the room. He collapsed into the shards, a broken shell. Manic stood over him, panting like a wild animal.
My brow knitted into a deeper confusion when I caught a glimpse of her eyes—burning towards her handiwork—glowing red.
Not a trick of the light.
Not a reflection.
Fucking glowing.
I stared, too stunned to pretend I hadn’t seen it. My stomach turned. I was utterly oblivious to the conversations around me. My brain scrambled for something, anything, that made sense.
Contacts, lighting, drugs, maybe?
Some staged intimidation show. I could feel Misfit tense beside me. She knew what I’d seen, and I knew she was already preparing to lie about it. The silence that followed was brittle, charged.
“I think that might be the cue to stop her fun.”
The man stepped forward as if he were accustomed to dragging lions off carcasses.
“Come on now, manic, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t smash the place up.” My mouth was dry, my hands tight on the cigarette.
I just stood there, watching the cracked remains of the world I thought I understood splinter a little more. But no one else even fucking blinked. Manic turned from him and started walking toward us, and I swear, every part of me tensed like prey sensing something that shouldn’t be there in the same room. I straightened instinctively, squared my shoulders, trying to act unbothered, but my nerves were on fire.
“Hello, you.” The smile she now wore was warm and familiar, too familiar. I’d just seen her destroy a grown man. And now she was gliding over like it was all a joke, as if she hadn’t crushed his windpipe and shattered a goddamn display case without breaking a sweat.
She plucked the cigarette from Misfit’s lips with practised ease, her fingers brushing against her lips like this was some routine dance between them. Took a long drag. Exhaled slowly. Calm. Almost flirtatious. I could still hear Jay wheezing behind her like roadkill.
“Where have you been hiding? Haven’t seen you for a couple of weeks,” she asked Misfit. Her voice was light and teasing.Then her gaze slid over to me. A full-body scan. Those eyes, no longer red like smouldering coals, had transformed. Now, a subtle sage green, fixed on yours truly.
“Ah, I see.”
She grinned wider, as if she’d just solved a puzzle I didn’t know I was part of.
I forced a nod, kept my expression flat. My hands were in my jacket pockets, clenched into fists.
“Did quite the number on Jay, didn’t you?” Misfit said, her voice trying to pivot the conversation. Manic barely glanced over her shoulder and shrugged.
“Shouldn’t piss me off.” She replied. And then she leaned closer to Misfit, dropped her voice into something soft and conspiratorial. I didn’t catch all the words, but I caught one. One that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end like static.
Veil.
It wasn’t just a weird turn of phrase. The tone changed. Misfit stiffened, nodded too quickly, said something quiet, but the panic in her eyes screamed louder than anything she could’ve said out loud. I watched her glance at me, then back at Manic.
Her smile faltered, just a flicker. Her head tilted slightly as she looked between Misfit’s barely contained panic and my rigid confusion. Her expression shifted into something calculating, and a spark of understanding flickered behind those eyes. She knew, holding on to an odd amusement at my lack of understanding. I felt it hit the air like a pressure drop in a room, the moment the truth teetered on the edge of being said out loud. The kind of truth that couldn’t be unsaid.
