As the team stepped into Perchance's parlor, their silence spoke volumes. The air was heavy with what they had endured—Tabo's near-death, the slaughter, the escape. But something else immediately stood out.

The parlor was... different.

Gone were the rat droppings, layers of grime, mildew-stained walls, and dangling, broken light fixtures. Instead, the place had been transformed into a surprisingly cozy refuge. The mismatched furniture had been rearranged with a sense of purpose. Clean blankets were draped over the old couch, incense lingered faintly in the air, and for the first time ever, the room felt like a home.

Sitting cross-legged on the now-functional couch, a lit blunt between her fingers, was Astrid. White smoke curled lazily above her head as she looked up, red-eyed but calm. She exhaled slowly, then smiled.

"Welcome back," she said casually. "Hope you like what I did with the place."

Edel's eyes swept over the room, then back to Astrid. Her expression remained guarded, her exhaustion barely masked.

"Edel, are you okay?" she asked, concerned. "You look—"

"You touched my weed!?" Perchance interrupted, incredulous. He threw his hands up. "Do you have any idea how hard that is to grow properly? This is artisanal—boutique quality!"

Astrid gave a half-apologetic shrug, her voice muffled with weariness. "Sorry. I just needed something to take the edge off. Watching my friends get killed by crazy mask-wearers kind of kills the vibe, you know?"

"Yeah, well, same here. Tabo got domed right in front of us before some creepy shadow sorcerer brought him back from the dead," Perchance muttered, rubbing his temples. "Whole place almost went up in flames. Literal magic and mayhem. Anyway..." He held out a hand. "Pass that."

Astrid smirked, handing him the still-lit blunt without protest. Perchance took a long drag and collapsed onto the cushion beside her, smoke trailing from his lips and he took a long sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Astrid. I like what you did to the place," he said as he blew out another puff. "'Preciate it." Returning to a clean space with someone who shared his enjoyment of recreational drugs was a welcome relief.

Astrid hummed in acknowledgment before standing and approaching Edel. Her smirk disappeared as she gazed at Edel's face—pale and strained, her eyes reflecting recent pain too raw to conceal. Astrid embraced her friend and lover in a comforting, tight hug.

"I missed you," she whispered.

Initially silent, Edel allowed herself to be embraced. After a moment, she reciprocated, holding back her emotions as she pressed close to Astrid's neck, inhaling the delicate floral scent. While Edel struggled against tears, Astrid murmured soothing words in her ear.

Tabo sat down slowly beside Perchance, his posture rigid, hands resting on his knees. Though alive, he looked like a man still carrying the weight of death.

Perchance, already half-sunken into the couch with the blunt between his fingers, glanced over. "You want a hit, amigo?" he offered, tilting the blunt toward him.

Tabo shook his head, raising a hand politely. "No... I think I'm okay."

He paused, eyes distant, before adding, "Can I tell you something?"

Perchance adjusted his position, his casual slouch tightening ever so slightly. "Ask away, my friend," he said, trying to keep his tone light.

Tabo took a slow breath. "When I... died—at least, I'm pretty sure I did—I heard my mother's voice."

Perchance's hand froze mid-air.

"I couldn't see her clearly. Just a silhouette. But she said something like, 'Your time's not up yet. You're not ready to see me.'" He looked down at his hands. "I don't know what that means. Maybe it was just my brain coping with the trauma, but... it felt real."

Perchance swallowed, the smoke in his throat suddenly catching. A bead of sweat traced the side of his face as guilt stirred in his gut.

He managed a crooked smile. "Well... I guess that means you've still got things to do down here, huh?"

Tabo nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Yeah... maybe."

But Perchance couldn't meet his eyes.

"I don't want to die," Tabo said quietly, then straightened, his voice firming. "But if it meant saving you all... I'd do it again. No question."

Perchance let out a dry chuckle, the edge of emotion tugging at his voice. "Still the fighter, huh? Gotta respect that."

Across the room, Charlotte sat quietly, her gaze fixed on Tabo. After everything, she owed him her life—literally. But her eyes kept flicking to Astrid, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach. It felt too convenient, too clean. Ever since Astrid appeared at the parlor, everything had gone sideways. Charlotte couldn't shake the sense that something was off.

Suspicion sharpened her focus as she scanned the parlor. The once-grimy space had been transformed under Astrid's hand—too perfectly. Charlotte moved from corner to corner, inspecting the walls, light fixtures, and even behind the furniture. She wasn't just admiring the makeover—she was searching for anything hidden. Bugs. Cameras. Anything that might explain the gnawing feeling in her gut.

Yet, she found nothing out of place. Maybe her eyes weren't sharp enough to catch anything subtle, or maybe Astrid was just that careful. Still, Charlotte made a mental note to confront her—just not yet. She'd wait until Astrid had her moment with Edel.

Even so, something else nagged at her. The hug between Edel and Astrid had lasted a little too long, lingered a little too close. It didn't feel like the kind of embrace shared between just friends. Charlotte narrowed her eyes slightly, a quiet storm building behind them. Whatever was going on, she intended to find out.

Edel wasn't invincible—Charlotte knew that now. Seeing her beaten, bleeding, and leaning on others shook something loose in her. She'd always thought Edel carried the weight of the world on her own. But maybe she didn't have to anymore.

And if Astrid was going to be part of that picture, Charlotte would make damn sure she deserved to be.

Eventually, having pulled away from Astrid, a temporarily relieved Edel addressed the room. "As you know, I've lost nearly everything. They'll be searching for me, so I can't stay in one place for long. I need to contact someone, and I don't know when I'll return."

She retrieved a thick stack of cash from the windowsill and placed it on the desk. "This should cover things for now," she said, activating a hidden burner phone. Charlotte looked surprised, unaware of more hiding places.

"Wait a minute!" Perchance exclaimed. "You had all this cash hidden and didn't tell me? I could have used some of that!"

"You'll get your cut soon. Besides, you'd have spent it all on edibles and ayahuasca."

"Well..." Perchance muttered, glancing away. "That's not entirely wrong."

"I expect you all to use it wisely while I'm gone. Split it however you see fit—but don't waste it," Edel said firmly, already turning and stepping into a quieter corner of the room. She raised the phone to her ear and began dialing.

Perchance reached for the cash with both hands, eyes gleaming—only for Charlotte to slap them away with a sharp glare.

"Don't even think about it," she warned.

Perchance groaned in defeat. "Greed is a sin, you know."

Charlotte folded her arms. "Says you!"

"Hey, let's not fight," Astrid interjected, her tone calm but firm—surprisingly composed, which caught Charlotte off guard. "Edel trusted us with this, so let's not mess it up. We should use the money for essentials—food, supplies, maybe even a burner vehicle. And if people are hunting us, we'll need to stay mobile."

Charlotte narrowed her eyes slightly but said nothing for a moment. Then, with a reluctant sigh, she muttered, "Fine. Whatever."

She still didn't trust Astrid—not entirely. But now wasn't the time to spark an argument, especially not with Edel still in the room.

On the other side of the room, Edel had already begun her call.

"Hugo, I need your help. I've been compromised."

A deep, gravelly voice answered on the other end. "By who?"

"The mafia."

There was a pause. Then, calmly: "Where are you?"

"Santa Monica. I barely got out alive. They burned through what I had—cash, guns. I'm down to scraps. I need help."

"You need cash, weapons, and assistance? That's not a favor, Edel. That's a Tuesday," Hugo replied dryly. Despite the sarcasm, there was a flicker of relief in his voice—he was glad she was still breathing.

"I'll call a ride. Don't stay long in one place. And Edel?"

"What?"

"It's good hearing from you again."

A slight smile curled up Edel's lips. "Likewise, Hugo."

She ended the call and turned to face the group, her expression worried but resolute.

"I have to go," Edel said, her voice steady. "I'm trusting you to hold things down while I'm gone. Stay armed, stay alert—assume an attack could come at any time. Don't let your guard down."

Her gaze passed over each of them, pausing a beat longer on Astrid... then Charlotte.

"I believe in you. I'll find you again—when I'm ready."

Astrid stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a hurry. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Edel's cheek. "Stay safe out there, babe," she murmured.

Charlotte's eyes widened in shock, her mouth slightly open. She hadn't seen that coming.

Edel gave a curt nod and turned to leave, slipping out the door without another word—silent, swift, and gone before anyone could spot her.

"You two are dating?!" Charlotte blurted, staring at Astrid like she'd just grown another head.

"I predicted that ages ago," Perchance said smoothly, puffing on the blunt like a clairvoyant. "I'm never wrong about these things."

Astrid shrugged, playing with a strand of her hair. "I wouldn't call it dating... not exactly. But we're definitely more than friends."

You two fell in love in a day?!" Charlotte exclaimed, her voice sharp with disbelief. "How does that even work?"

There was a hint of something more beneath her tone—skepticism, maybe even a touch of jealousy. Her arms were crossed, her eyes narrowed at Astrid. Something about it didn't sit right with her. Things that moved that fast never ended well... at least, that's what she heard.

Astrid met her gaze calmly. "Trauma bonds move fast, I guess," she said with a half-smile, unflinching. "We connected through what we've been through. It's not exactly implausible."

Charlotte crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "Who are you, really? Because something doesn't add up. You show up, and then we get ambushed, kidnapped, almost killed? That's a hell of a coincidence."

Astrid's smile faded. "I'm just a student from UCLA. I saw my friends die. I had no one left, nowhere to go. I wanted to help. And... I fell for Edel. That wasn't planned. But once I felt that, I couldn't just go back to my old life."

Charlotte studied her carefully, scanning her face, searching her eyes for the smallest flicker of dishonesty. But Astrid held her gaze—steady, open, and unreadable.

"Convenient story," Charlotte muttered.

"It's the truth," Astrid replied softly, almost mournfully. "Believe it or not... I'm on your side."

"Charlotte, I believe her," Perchance chimed in, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. "She's not giving me any bad vibes. Besides, I knew love was going to show up in Edel's life sooner or later. And look at this place!" He gestured around the room. "She cleaned it up, made it livable again! And finally—finally—I have a friend who appreciates good weed."

Charlotte shot him a glare. "Perchance, you're just saying that because she's pretty."

Astrid's smile vanished. "So you're saying I only got this far because of pretty privilege?" Her voice was sharp now, the room thickening with tension.

Charlotte's cold gaze hardened, causing Tabo and Perchance to step back, having never witnessed her so agitated. "Maybe. What do you know about real class? About the world Edel and I live in? You're just some poor student who stumbled into this mess. You don't belong here. I bet you're just using Edel—for her money, for her connections, for whatever it is." She regarded Astrid with more than mere suspicion; a subtle disdain reserved for those she considered inferior colored her gaze. Driven by an unsettling feeling about Astrid, Charlotte sought justifications for her dislike.

"That's enough," Astrid said, voice low but steady, her green eyes glaring into Charlotte's. "Say what you want about me, but I'm here to help, and Edel was the one who personally brought me here. If you want to kick me out, fine, but good luck explaining that to her."

The room fell heavy with silence. Perchance gulped awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably where he stood, but then took a breath and stepped forward to defend Astrid.

"Okay, whoa. Let's cool it," he said, raising his hands like a referee. "Charlotte, I get that you're protective. We all are. But this isn't some high-society debutante ball where you get to screen people based on their background. Astrid's been through hell just like the rest of us. She didn't have to stay—she chose to. That means something."

Charlotte scoffed. "You like anyone who smokes weed with you," she murmured.

"Hey now, I like people with other qualities too!"

Perchance continued, gesturing to the transformed room. "You think someone with an agenda would spend time scrubbing mold off the walls and making this dump feel like a home? Nah. You don't have to like her, but give her a damn break. We've got enough enemies without turning on each other."

Astrid didn't say anything at first, just looked at Perchance with a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. Then she turned her gaze back to Charlotte—not angry now, just tired.

"I'm not asking you to like me," she said quietly. "But don't punish me for where I come from. I didn't choose my life any more than you chose yours."

Charlotte said nothing, jaw tight, but her arms loosened slightly from their crossed position. The silence remained, but now it buzzed with unresolved tension rather than outright hostility.

Perchance sighed. "Man, I miss the days when all we had to worry about were rats and health code violations."

------

As Edel settled into the plush leather seat of the chauffeured car arranged by Hugo, she leaned her head against the cool glass of the window, watching the city blur past in streaks of gold and neon. Los Angeles at night was always a performance: vibrant, loud, alive. But beneath the streetlights, she began to notice the somber scenes—makeshift memorials of flowers and flickering candles, tragic reminders of the lives lost in the chaos she'd narrowly survived.

She exhaled slowly, trying to ease the tension that had coiled tight in her shoulders. There was still so much left to do.

She still had to strengthen her family's spirit in the world—and maybe even bring them back in the flesh with Perchance's help. She also needed to strike back at the mafia now that she finally knew their headquarters, and prepare to face the Maskers with Iscar's aid. A pang of regret gnawed at her for not going after the mafia the moment she extracted the intel from the henchmen she had narrowly escaped from; getting kidnapped had never been part of the plan. She was grateful for the self-destruct mechanism in her laptop that saved her life—but without Iscar, she wouldn't have made it.

Too much was happening all at once, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm. Enemies were closing in from every side, and she was racing against a ticking clock—her family's souls slipping closer to the afterworld with each passing moment.

"We've arrived, ma'am," the chauffeur announced as the car pulled up in front of a weathered building nestled in the heart of Little Tokyo, downtown LA. The four-story structure housed a quaint Japanese pharmacy on the ground floor, with offices occupying the upper levels.

Edel offered a small nod. "Thank you," she replied, easing the door open and stepping out of the sleek black sedan.

The sidewalk was littered with crumpled fliers and yellowed newspapers, their pages fluttering softly in the faint breeze. Edel paused beneath the pale glow of a streetlamp, her eyes scanning the deserted block. Shadows pooled in alleyways and under the faded awnings of closed shops—nothing moved.

She slipped inside the building, stepping into a narrow, claustrophobic hallway. The faint, flickering light of a single overhead bulb cast long shadows on damp, peeling walls, the air heavy with the scent of mildew from a leaking pipe nearby.

She took the stairs two at a time, the worn steps creaking beneath her boots as she ascended. When she reached the fourth floor, she was met by a heavy metal door equipped with a number pad, a security camera, and a weathered doorbell. Edel pressed the bell and fixed her gaze on the camera lens. After a brief moment, a buzzer sounded and the door clicked open, granting her entry.

Inside, Edel was greeted by her long-time ally—lawyer, accountant, fixer, and occasional armorer—Hugo Lacroq. Towering and broad-shouldered, his muscular frame seemed to fill the small room. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back with meticulous care, complementing a neatly trimmed beard that framed his weathered but sharp features. Hugo wore a tailored maroon pinstriped suit that spoke of understated power, and a hefty silver watch glinted on his wrist.

The office was a blend of old-world charm and quiet sophistication—filled with the scent of aged leather-bound books, a faint trace of whiskey, and a subtle hint of expensive cologne. Soft jazz melodies drifted through the room, wrapping the space in a calm, almost nostalgic atmosphere.

"Hello, Hugo," Edel said, her voice calm but evidenced with fatigue as she stepped inside, trying to settle herself in. It had been years since she'd last set foot in his office. She lowered herself into a plush maroon leather chair made of polished blackwood, positioned near towering shelves lined with dense law tomes and locked cases of old files.

"Edel," Hugo replied with a nod, his voice smooth and gravel-toned. "Drink?"

"Sparkling water, please. Thank you."

"Down to scraps, huh?" Hugo remarked dryly, pouring himself a measure of aged whiskey from a cut-glass decanter. He settled into the chair beside her, the soft leather creaking beneath his weight. Swirling the amber liquid thoughtfully, he took a slow sip, his sharp eyes fixed on Edel. "So, tell me—how did that happen?"

Edel exhaled, setting her glass down gently. "My program's been more active than ever lately. It flagged a pattern, and I followed it... right into the hands of the mafia. Long story short, I disrupted one of their operations—got a little too close to the truth—and they kidnapped me. Tortured me." She kept her voice steady, though her fingers twitched slightly against her knee. "I barely made it out alive, thanks to some unexpected allies."

She leaned back, eyes darkening. "They stripped me of everything. But I got something in return—names. I know who ordered the hit on my family."

Hugo let out a low whistle and set his glass down with a soft clink. "That's a hell of a trade. Your assets for answers. Good thing you still have your inheritance tucked safely in that Swiss account. What they took was just a drop in the bucket."

Edel nodded, but her expression remained tense. "What's more: My program's been flagging Masker attacks before they happen. I've been trying to stop them, but no matter how early I catch them, I'm always a step behind."

She exhaled slowly, frustrated. "I'll admit—I haven't been as diligent with maintaining the program. It's given me false readings lately, glitches I haven't had time to fix. But one thing's become clear: the mafia and the Masker cult have a symbiotic relationship. The Maskers supply them with dark magic while the mafia provides manpower and dirty work."

She shifted forward in her seat. "Despite that, I've managed to gather a few allies. They're not the most technical, but they've pulled their weight. I even enlisted a Masker defector—someone named Iscar. He's powerful, no question. I've seen what he can do. He saved our lives."

Hugo raised an eyebrow. "A Masker defector? That's a gamble."

"I know," Edel replied. "I don't trust him, but he hasn't asked for anything... yet. He claims he wants the Maskers gone too."

Hugo leaned back, thoughtful. "And the others? Who are these allies of yours?"

Edel leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting toward the crystal glass in her hand. She swirled the sparkling water absentmindedly before answering.

"There's Charlotte Liadon," Edel said, watching Hugo's reaction closely. His eyes widened with surprise.

"She's still alive? I thought her family was long gone," he said, disbelief coloring his voice.

"Yeah, I thought the same—until I found her working in a grimy nightclub. She's not much of a fighter, and violence isn't really her thing, as you can probably imagine. But she's become the glue that holds us together."

"There's Tabo," Edel continued. "He's a homeless orphan, so that makes three of us with troubled histories, I guess. He's a good fighter. He proved his loyalty by sacrificing himself to save us... and then coming back to life, thanks to Iscar's magic. He gets the job done without saying much."

She hesitated, then added more softly, "And then there's Astrid. She's a student from UCLA—survived one of the attacks. She's been getting... close to me."

Edel bit her lip, unsure of how much to reveal. "She brings a kind of comfort I didn't expect. But I'm not sure what to do with it."

She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Then there's Perchance—a quirky fortune teller. Rhiannon brought him in to help with my mission. My family's spirits... they exist now as ghosts. I've even encountered them in their spectral forms. Their hold on the physical world is slipping, but Perchance claims he can bring them back."

Hugo raised an eyebrow, swirling the amber liquid in his glass thoughtfully. "Ghosts, huh? That's a new one. I can't say I've ever seen one myself, but I'll take your word for it. Sounds like you've got a lot on your plate."

Edel nodded, her voice tense. "Yeah, but I'm running out of time. So much is happening at once, and if there's any chance of bringing my family back, Perchance will need to tap into some huge source of energy—wherever that might be. For now, all he can do is strengthen their connection to the physical world, which means visiting their graves."

Hugo's expression softened. "Their graves, huh? That reminds me... Karina's been visiting yours quite often. She misses you."

Edel's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Karina's name, a sudden pang tightening in her chest. She swallowed hard, touched by the thought of Karina's care. "Karina... how is she?"

"She's been doing well, last I heard," Hugo said, his tone turning gentler. "Top of her classes at USC, joined one of the most prestigious sororities, and has somehow become quite the influential figure on campus. But she's never stopped talking about you. Her father's worried she'll never move on."

He paused, then added with a small, knowing smile, "But honestly, I think it's admirable. Sweet, even. That kind of loyalty... it's rare."

Edel lowered her gaze, the glass in her hand now still. A quiet ache stirred in her chest, guilt and longing knotted together like tangled roots. "I never wanted to hurt her," she said softly. "But the path I chose... I... I couldn't bring her into all of this."

"She would've followed you anyway," Hugo replied. "Still might, if you gave her the chance."

"That's exactly what scares me," Edel murmured. "If she does... I don't think I could ever let her go again." Her voice thinned with emotion. "But people around me get hurt. Or worse."

She exhaled, her fingers tightening slightly around the crystal glass. "She deserves a normal life. To go to college, design clothes, make friends, live out her dreams, be happy. Safe."

Her eyes drifted to the window, to the city glittering like a million promises she couldn't keep. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't deserve her."

She paused, jaw tight, then looked back at Hugo with a flicker of anguish in her eyes. "I could've died, Hugo. I nearly did. And I dragged others into it—my friends. They almost died because of me. I won't do that to her."

Hugo leaned back in his chair and let out a deep exhale, the old leather creaking under his weight as he studied her in silence for a long moment. The jazz music in the background hummed softly, an uncanny counterpoint to the seriousness of the situation.

"Look, Edel," he began bluntly, "your friends... they don't strike me as the most capable or highly trained. Sure, they've proven useful in some situations, but dragging them into every dangerous mission? That's a liability you can't afford."

He paused, letting the words settle before continuing.

"Charlotte Liadon? Last I knew, she was a reckless brat. And Tabo—homeless orphan or not—you don't have to take in every lost puppy you find on the street. You need allies who can actually hold their own."

"If you want to survive this," he continued, "you need to be smarter about who you trust. Who you drag into the crosshairs with you. You want allies? I can get you ex-military. Mercs with discipline. Experience. Veterans who know the ins-and-outs this business like the back of their hand. What I don't understand is why you insist on doing this your way—with barely any backup. You're brilliant, no doubt. But today proved it—you've got limits like anyone else."

Edel didn't answer right away. Her fingers tightened around the glass in her hand as she stared down into the untouched water, watching the way the light refracted through the crystal. The silence hung thick for a moment.

"I know what they are," she said finally, her voice low but firm. "They're not soldiers. They're not assassins or tacticians. But they've stood by me when they didn't have to. When they had every reason to run."

She looked up, locking eyes with Hugo.

"I don't need mercenaries to fight my battles. I need people who believe in the cause, not just the paycheck. Because I'm not backing down. The mafia, the Maskers, every last person who killed my family and hurt the people I love—I'll take them down. With my own hands. With my own choices. I'll be the nightmare that keeps them awake. And their executioner."

Hugo exhaled slowly, swirling the whiskey in his glass again. "Loyalty's nice, Edel. But loyalty among a group of ragtags? You're playing a high-stakes game with dark magic cultists, mafiosos, and hundreds, if not thousands, of them are trying to take you down. Sentiment doesn't keep you alive."

"I'm not being sentimental," Edel said, her tone sharpening. "I'm choosing people who've proven they'll bleed for this. Tabo literally died for it. Charlotte might not fight with her fists, but she's held this group together in more ways that matter. And Perchance—he's weird, yeah—but he knows things I don't understand, something we'll need if I want to bring them back."

She took a breath.

"I've come to accept that I can't do everything alone," she said quietly. "But with the mafia still hunting me, I know they'll come after the people I care about. I need time to recover, rebuild what I've lost, and fix my program before it spirals further out of control."

Hugo nodded once, rising from his chair with a purposeful air. "The armory's been fully restocked with the latest gear—cutting-edge weapons, surveillance tech, even a few prototypes you might like. Help yourself."

He crossed to a drawer and pulled out a sleek black envelope, sliding it across the polished desk toward her.

"I've secured a safehouse for you in the Hills. Quiet. Off-grid. Reinforced and fully stocked. If you want to disappear and regroup, it's ready."

Edel reached for the envelope, her fingertips brushing the thick matte paper. "I'll need a new transport vehicle too. They torched my van."

"Already ahead of you," Hugo said, pouring himself another finger of whiskey. "No registration, no trackers, no paper trail. Modded to be high performance, too. I'll have it delivered to a location of your choosing."

She let out a slow breath and met his eyes. "If I take this offer... I disappear. I go dark. No contact. That means leaving Charlotte, Tabo, and the others exposed."

Hugo's pursed his lips. "Sometimes the best way to protect others is to make yourself the sole target. They're mainly concerned with you, after all."

The weight of it all settled in her chest with all the dangers and the choices she must make. A part of her longed for the quiet, the control, the ability to rebuild everything in the shadows. But the thought of leaving her team—of not knowing what would happen to them—gnawed at her.

She looked out the window again. The city lights blinked in the distance, alive and indifferent to her inner turmoil.