Paris - Alexander

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" she giggled, her voice teetering on the edge of a manic high, as if my very presence was the punchline to some joke only she understood. 

 "You said you needed people?" I shot her a crooked grin, raising one eyebrow. "I've got what your boss needs." 

 Her eyes widened in mock surprise, and she let out a loud, theatrical gasp, clutching her chest as if I'd just confessed my undying love. Then she burst into laughter, tossing her head back so violently her two pigtails smacked against her face. "Oh, really? And what makes you think you've got anything Clockie wants?" 

 I couldn't help but smirk as she ripped open a packet of salted licorice pastilles, spilling half of them on the table. She shoved a handful into her mouth, chewing with a grotesque enthusiasm that reminded me of a rabid animal. 

 "Why him?" she muttered, spraying crumbs across the table. 

 "Your boss is powerful."

 "Pfffft!" She made a sputtering sound, nearly choking on her candy as she smirked with her pale blue lips smeared with lipstick. "More powerful than your current babysitter?" Her grin stretched wider, almost unnatural, her eyes glittering with amusement. 

 It was hard to believe this unhinged little Harley Quinn wannabe was somehow essential to the mighty Clocksworth. But the spark of chaos in her eyes made me think twice. Casually, I swirled the wine glass in my hand, the liquid spinning like my thoughts. I knew I had her, but I had to tread lightly—she was the kind to detonate just for fun. 

 "I suspect so," I replied smoothly. 

"...And? There are tons of those kinds out there," she said, spinning her half-empty glass with one finger, her gaze darting between me and the bartender like she was planning three crimes at once. 

 I shook my head, letting my sharp grin flash under the dim light of the tealight, shoved haphazardly into a greasy old wineglass. "None like him." 

 She slammed her hands down on the table, rattling the glasses. "Ooooooh! Mysterious!" she sang, rocking side to side in her chair like a kid on a sugar high. "Now you've reeeeally got me curious." "Give me details," she said, her voice suddenly dropping an octave as her grin disappeared into a cold, predatory smile. "And maybe, just maybe, we'll see what Clockie thinks." 

 "Not a chance," I laughed, leaning back as if her sudden shift hadn't thrown me off. "I want to see him face to face." 

 Her eyes narrowed, and for a second, I thought she might lunge at me. Then, just as quickly, her expression flipped into delight, and she clapped her hands together. "Oh, I like you. You've got guts! Probably not a lot of brains, though." 

 She slid out of her chair and strolled over, her hips swaying exaggeratedly, before plopping herself sideways across my lap. She pulled a cracked phone from her pocket and slammed it onto the table like it was a game show buzzer. "Fine, cowboy. You'll have to settle for a call." 

 She pressed a button and brought the phone to her ear, her lips twitching with excitement. Her gaze locked onto mine, and I could see her suppressing the urge to giggle as someone picked up on the other end. She leaned forward, straddling me now, her hair brushing against my face as she murmured some indecipherable nonsense into the phone. 

 "Alexander Masson?" 

 "You heard right," I replied, trying to sound confident, even though my pulse was hammering in my chest. Everything depended on this. 

 She let her fingers trail along my throat like she was tracing a dotted line for a knife, then leaned closer, her breath smelling of licorice and something faintly metallic. "How many?" she whispered, her voice dripping with mock curiosity. 

 The line was silent, but I knew he was there, listening. "A hundred and fifty," I said quietly. 

 She tilted her head and grinned, her black-painted nails trailing up my arm. Then, just as I reached to steady her hips, she jerked back, snapping the phone shut and tossing it onto the table with a dramatic flourish. Her nails grazed my jawline as she leaned in close, her lips brushing my ear. "Nice try, lover boy," she purred before pulling back with a laugh that echoed like breaking glass. 

 "What did he say?" I asked, still trying to get my bearings. 

 "Pack your bags, chérie," she said, spinning around and prancing toward the door like she was on a runway. "We're heading to the countryside."  

Dominic

"Loyson, this is insane! You have to get over here, man!" 

 "I'm on my way, Max, calm down," I sighed, holding the phone away from my ear. I couldn't tell if he sounded excited or distraught, but something was going on, and I had a sinking feeling it wasn't good. 

 Lighting a fresh cigarette, I glanced over my shoulder. Somewhere back there, Magnus was still lying in bed after a long, grueling night, and I'd give anything to crawl back under the covers with him. But Alex was like a brother to me, and I'd ignored him long enough. I'd holed up at home for months, refusing to leave the house. At first, he'd left me alone, but then came the messages and all the missed calls. 

Today, I'd finally given in and told him I'd meet up. Deep down, I knew I was done—done with this shitty life, I thought, taking a drag from my cigarette. Whatever had happened didn't matter anymore. I had no obligations left, and I wasn't about to tie myself up in something new. As I got closer, I saw all three of them standing outside the house, waiting for me. Something in their faces told me I could kiss any hopes of a quiet life goodbye. Something was up. 

 "Where the hell have you been, Nico?!" Mass snapped, pacing restlessly outside the house. 

 "I'm here now," I muttered. 

 "Several damn months too late!" 

 I ignored Masson and turned to Maximilian instead. "So, what's going on?" 

 He snatched the cigarette out of my mouth, taking a long drag that made the ember glow red against his fingers. "Calvos wanted to get rid of that new guy. For good this time." 

 "Clocksworth," Œil added. 

 "Yeah, him," Max continued. "They set a trap in one of the southern villages. An ambush. They'd stationed themselves around the square, ready to gun him down before he even got out of the car." 

 "Sounds like something Calvos would do," I muttered, unimpressed by his cowardly tactics.

 "What choice did he have?" Mass whined. "All his best men are dead." 

 I stared blankly at Masson, raising an eyebrow. "Because you killed them. Or have you forgotten?" 

 "No! Of course not!" he snarled back. 

 "I'm guessing Calvos failed?" I asked, snatching my cigarette back from Max. 

 "Apparently, that clock-guy's powers are off the charts. He killed them all." 

 I frowned, studying him intently. "All of them?" 

 "I think so. No one's heard from anyone."

 "Calvos is alive," Mass muttered. "I'm sure of it." 

 Max got up and stepped so close I could feel his breath against my cheek. "Masson's creator is dead, though. He's been acting like an idiot ever since," he whispered, casting a nervous glance at the younger guy. 

 "Who the hell are you calling an idiot?!" Mass shouted, spinning around with a gun aimed at us.

 "Damn it, Mass, knock it off!" I barked, stepping in front of Max. "Pretty soon, there won't be a single soul left willing to save your sorry little ass, so think twice before you point that thing at any of us again." 

 Grudgingly, he uncocked the gun and tossed it in my direction. "Lower your voice and quit being so damn cocky," he muttered sourly. "I've sorted out our future while you've been off baking cinnamon rolls with Mufasa." 

 "Sounds terrifying," I sighed, stubbing out my cigarette. 

 "I've been talking to someone." 

 "Who?" I asked, picking up the gun from the ground and tucking it into my waistband. 

 "A girl who works for him. She says we're welcome there."  

"So, what's the plan, Mass? Do you really want another master to serve? Isn't there more to life than violence and blood?!" I sighed, throwing my arms out in frustration.

"Rumor has it they're decent, Loy," Œil mumbled. "Fair, even. Supposedly, they're trying to clear out all the small gangs from the streets." 

 "Not a chance," Max laughed. "I've heard that Clocksworth guy is ruthless." 

 "What do you expect? All leaders are power-hungry," I said, shaking my head. "What makes you think he's any different?" 

 "Then what are we supposed to do?" 

 "Live?" I snapped, irritation bubbling up inside me. "There's a whole world out there, full of opportunities. Why the hell do we need to work for some ruthless wannabe prince with creepy powers who lives in a freaking castle?" 

 "Get a grip, Nico! You're a damn vampire!" Mass snarled, glaring at me. "Stop living in your fluffy pink fantasy world." 

 "Or what?" 

 With a scowl, he slumped down onto an old, overturned flower pot, muttering sourly, "I'm going to the castle, anyway." 

 "And then what?" 

 "Then you can decide if you're coming or not. But damn it, Nic, this is our chance for a better life." 

 "Keep telling yourself that," I sighed, turning on my heel to head back home. 

 "I'll call you later!" he shouted after me. 

 "Sure," I replied over my shoulder. "Drive safely." 

 "You know I will!" he laughed, and despite myself, I couldn't help but smile. 

 The rest of the evening dragged on, and the night was even worse. The blanket felt too warm, some annoying clock ticked way too loudly, and for some inexplicable reason, the light slipping through the blinds drove me insane. I couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning, I finally gave up, sitting up in bed with a jolt. This isn't working, I thought, getting up and heading to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. I stood there for a while, feeling like my life was falling apart again, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. 

 "You planning to share what's on your mind?" His voice was like balm for the soul, his presence the best kind of drug. But today, his question made me want to bolt out of the house and vomit.  

"I didn't mean to wake you," I murmured, my voice trembling as I felt his arms wrap around me.  

"Talking about it usually helps." 

 I closed my eyes tightly and leaned my head back against his shoulder. "But it hurts," I replied softly. 

 I felt him rest his face against the top of my head, breathing in deeply. "But it usually hurts more to keep it all inside.

I nodded, bolstered by his calm presence and warmth. "Masson has a plan."

"That sounds ominous," he teased, kissing my temple. 

 "It's a big deal."

"Isn't it always?"

"Yeah, but this could change everything."

His arms tightened around me, his voice steady as he prompted, "Explain."

"You know about Prince Anthony," I began, and Magnus nodded. "He died, but now his heir has returned." I turned to face him, meeting his gaze. "They say he's fair, decent. A good leader."

"Clocksworth?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

 "You know who he is?"

He chuckled. "I know who everyone is, love."

I nodded thoughtfully. "I forgot. So what do you think? Are they right?"

He ran his fingers through his beard, thinking for a moment. "He might be your chance to put an end to all the rivalry."

"Mass said the same thing," I sighed. "Everyone's so sick of selfish leaders who only care about themselves."

He cupped my cheek, his smile soft. "So what's the plan?"I avoided his gaze as I continued 

"Mass already talked to him."

"Okay," he said calmly. 

 "He wants me to go with him next time," I said, searching his face for a reaction. 

 "And then?"I ran my fingers over his bare chest, watching as his skin prickled at my touch. 

"Then we help the Clockmaster take the throne."

He nodded slowly. "So it's already decided?" I bit my lip, lowering my gaze. "Go, Dominic. Go do what you have to do," he whispered in my ear before pressing a kiss to my cheek.

"I'll come back," I whispered just as quietly, resting my forehead against his shoulder. "I promise."

"I know," he replied, his voice full of love as he held me even tighter. "I know."