Secret Agent Man
Oriel
I ’m supposed to be in Mythology, but I’m skipping out. That’s not usual for me in a class that basic, and I don’t give a flying fuck if Darkstar has a problem with it. He can write me up if he wants or hell, even send bullshit to my parents. I’ll handle that just like I’ve been handling another problem quietly, because that’s what I do.
Lurking in the shadows and stealing things is what crows do best, and I’m one of the best thieves in Hell.
“Now to leave this in Wormwood’s office and scare the living shit out of that moron,” I murmur as I skate through the shadows, moving through the building carefully so any demons in my line don’t notice me.
Luckily, too much shit has happened since the classroom threat for Kit to realize that the dhampir hasn’t mentioned his punishment since that fateful morning. Every day, I think it’ll come up as we eat breakfast or meet for studying, but it doesn’t. I’m glad for that because I don’t want him to be anxious and worried, but I also know he’ll get prickly as hell about people handling things for him. His push-pull with allowing us to help him is adorable to me, but I know Kit Kat would demand to take the punishment he practically asked for with his words.
Salem was suspicious of how the magical asshole worded his edict and frankly, I’m not willing to risk yet another goddamn demon trying to do something sketchy to our friend. Besides, it wasn’t hard to find the pain points for the hybrid demon; Wormwood isn’t very bright and he’s definitely not smart about how he manages his private vices.
That’s how I was able to take this concern off our plates and I’ll continue to do so until it no longer works.
Pausing at the end of the hall, I watch carefully, then slip along the edges until I reach the Curses professor’s door. It only takes a few seconds to pick the rudimentary lock and I grin as I shut the heavy door behind me. My eyes dart around his space, checking for added security since my last visit. I don’t see any cameras or tiny eyes watching me; that means I’ll have to check for magical precautions. The dhampir isn’t even in the same realm of power as me, so if he has attempted to prevent me from leaving my new message, it won’t work. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy being amused by his fumbling tries, though.
A tiny spot of energy vibrates from the far corner of the ceiling and I snort. “Seriously, dude? A camera cloaking spell? Lame as hell for a fucking demon professor in Hell. I can’t believe he resorted to human tech thinking it would defeat me.”
Shifting to the crow form, I leave my clothes behind as I fly up to the corner where the magic is emanating. Tilting my head, I study it for a moment before flapping my wings to blow it away from the device with very little effort. Another light breeze from my wings has the components of the security device disassembling and hitting the carpeted floor within moments. I caw in victory, then swoop down to shift back to my humanoid form.
“Zav is going to have a field day playing with this before I bring it back,” I murmur with a smirk. I’d prefer not to involve anyone else in my subterfuge, but the techie kitsune will have this thing re-programmed and working for us before the end of the day once I ask. He’ll tell Jasper, of course , but I was only keeping this to myself so it didn’t get back to KK. Zav might actually have the stones to keep the Prickly Prince quiet, especially if we make sure he understands the stakes.
Being sent to anything referred to as ‘dungeon detention’ is not something we want for our brothers.
I tap into my other senses, including the deep greed that runs through my family lines. It’s what makes us top tier thieves as it applies to almost anything tangible or intangible, including information. Thirsting for knowledge drives me to examine the file cabinet first, easily picking the ridiculous lock before I flip through the files until I hit what I’m looking for—Kit.
Since he’s new to Hell, the file is as thin as I expected, though the gossipy notes about his relationships and speculation on his demon type shed some light on the dhampir’s motives. He’s obviously keeping close tabs on our little enigma and it’s more than what a professor should give a shit about. Demons are nosy by nature as they love to use flaws and weak points as weapons, but this feels like it’s more than that. I don’t know if it’s by Lucian’s decree or if someone else is pulling the strings; however, knowing he’s got someone pressing him for intel is useful.
I hum to myself quietly as I shuffle through the files on the rest of my caliphate, curious enough to wonder what the douchebag has to say about us. There’s a lot of garbage from our previous schools,—reports, grades, demerits, etc—and again, a lot of notes that are filled with rumors and intrigue. My eyes narrow as it details incidents that have happened since we arrived that are not part of disciplinary action; he’s got rats in the student body filling him in on events across the campus.
Jasper will be livid; I can’t wait to share that with him eventually—thinking about it makes me giddy.
This stuff is good to add to the arsenal, so I take a few pictures with my phone, then replace everything exactly as I found it. The cabinet was mildly interesting, but there has to be more to keep my idiotic blackmail victim on the hook. I’ve been using bluffs up until now. That won’t work forever, and this trip is meant to find physical or digital shit I can hold over the pompous fuckwit indefinitely.
Rubbing my hands together, I open the laptop on the desk. I’m not bad with tech because of my skill set, but I learned a long time ago that getting help from the truly gifted is much easier than fumbling on my own. To that end, I pull out the flash drive Zav made for me in middle school that is chock full of viruses and codes that work to unlock computer systems. Sliding it into the port, I wait for it to begin the sequences, then turn my attention to the desk itself.
“Pretty fancy looking furniture for a professor.”
My magic skims over the surfaces of a design that I’m fairly certain is made by some hoity-toity name in Hell. Annie would know who made this without pause, but I’m less concerned about labels on things like furniture than him. Jewelry and such—that I know easily because I’m often asked to steal that sort of pocketable shit. Assessing value is important to price consideration; demons love to lie when your fees are based on item resale value and complexity of the job. Knowing my worth is what fills the coffers of my personal and family accounts.
A soft whirring sound tells me the hard drive for the computer is being engaged and I smile as I drop to my knees so I can check out underneath the desk. The saturated stench of sex fills my nostrils and I rear back, making a face at the obvious implications of that discovery. Wormwood is playing at being a big deal with this little fantasy and that knowledge is also quite valuable. It’s fresh enough to be noticeable , but not so much that I pick up exactly which boys or professors he’s managed to squeeze into that small space.
“Randy fuck is probably taking blowies for grades,” I mutter as I inhale a breath of clean air then dive back under while I hold it. The space is tight and there’s definitely stains on his Berber, that I wish I weren’t touching, but after a minute of searching, I don’t find a hidden compartment. When I pull back, I let the breath go and suck another moderately clean one in. “Damn that sucked. I need to bring a fucking mask with me if I have to come back.”
I crawl out from behind his big chair, moving along the outside of the thick wooden furniture. My fingers dance over the surface as well as my powers, searching for the catch that is bound to be here somewhere. I know there’s a spot because demons love this kind of shit, but also , the damn dimensions of the thing are off in comparison to my mental calculations. Even factoring in drawer spaces and hardware, I know this piece of shit is hiding a secret treasure in his seated pleasure palace.
After a few minutes of crawling around like an imp, I finally find what I’m looking for in the curvature of a flourish on the front panel. Grinning wickedly, I activate the release and sit back on my haunches when the entire front opens like I said ‘sesame’. Obviously, the space for legs underneath is so tiny because of this interesting little cabinet. Scooting closer, I mutter an incantation to make certain I’m not tripping a magical security spell by touching the contents. It fizzles immediately and I snort.
What a fucking idiot. Wormwood teaches casting classes and doesn’t protect even his hidden shit with magic.
“No wonder this dickwaffle is stuck teaching at a university. He’s as useless as tits on a minotaur.”
Smirking at my own clever insult, I examine the objects in the cabinet. There are a few jars that I assume have potions, gases, or salves in them. They aren’t labeled and I’m not stupid enough to open them to find out what they contain. I can come back for this shit later when I have gear to protect myself from falling victim to whatever their intent is. I doubt they’re more than shitty love potions or ‘stay hard’ creams, but I’m not betting everyone’s safety on this fucker being a perv.
I squint at the objects on the opposite shelf, studying them with both my physical senses and mystical ones. The statue of the King seems harmless enough, but if it were strictly for ass-kissing it would be on his desktop. It’s stored here for a reason, so I snap a picture of it before continuing to the next item. The crystalline sculpture is adorned with real jewels and precious metals, but I don’t recognize the subject of the piece. It’s very primitive and rough, so the features aren’t distinct, nor is the style. This, I believe to be important, so I take more pictures that I can give to the group. The vibes emanating from it are disconcerting, which is a good indicator of trouble.
The last object is a ring, and the closer I get to it, the worse my gut clenches. It’s filled with symbols I don’t recognize, and the aura is not from Hell. This thing wasn’t made or infused with power in this realm for sure. I don’t know what it is or does, so again, I snap away for future reference. I’m not sure if any of this will turn out to be blackmail worthy, but I damn sure won’t ignore shit that could bite us in the ass later. It would be irresponsible and I’m far too greedy for the knowledge to be lazy with this job.
One thing remains, and I frown as I consider how to handle it. It’s a book, and to find out what is inside, I’ll have to touch it. Doing so is a gamble, even with the gloves in my pocket. Much like the jars, the damn thing could have spells woven into its construction or use that will sear the presence of my magic into its core, or even harm me for not being the owner.
But no one hides a small, black book inside of a secret compartment that isn’t full of shady shit.
I consider simply swiping it for a moment, but there also could be barrier spells. Magic is extremely specific, intent-driven, and able to hide when necessary in the demon world. I know that my checks could fail when the curse, hex, spell, incantation or any number of vehicles were written by someone with enough knowledge of demon magic to embed traps. That’s why I disassembled the damn camera rather than just destroying it.
“This could tell me what Wormwood is up to with Kit, or even something bigger. I can’t leave it here without knowing what’s inside.”
Closing my eyes, I murmur a cloaking spell, weaving the skill of my family line into its creation. This works for a great deal of my assignments, but I know it may not accomplish its intent here because I lack the typical prep on a target I would have elsewhere. Once it pops into place, I take a deep breath and grab the book, opening to the first page.
Here goes nothing…