Chapter 252: Relief mission

A raven, its feathers black as the abyss, pecked frantically and insistently at the glass. This was no ordinary raven.

Wednesday crossed the room, opened the window, and let the messenger in. The bird landed on her desk, a letter tied to its leg, sealed with the Council’s emblem.

Enid stepped up behind her as Wednesday broke the seal with a single finger. The raven watched them in silence, as if it knew the message it carried was no ordinary one.

Wednesday’s eyes moved line by line, her usual expression hardening even further.

“Is it a mission?” Enid asked, though she already knew the answer.

Wednesday nodded.

“A mid-level psychic family. The Marlowe. Not among the most powerful, but with enough lineage to be a nuisance to the Spellmans,” Wednesday replied. “Apparently, a group of hooded figures showed up about thirty minutes ago, wearing masks and demanding allegiance.”

“They refused? Are they still there?” Enid asked, her shoulders tensing.

“According to the last message the Council received from them, they’re likely still ’negotiating’ on the property. They need reinforcements before the intruders lose patience and detect even the slightest hint of doubt or resistance,” Wednesday said.

Enid frowned, “Negotiating? I’d call it a threat.”

Wednesday didn’t answer immediately. She folded the parchment carefully and tucked it into her coat.

“What’s wrong?” Enid asked, catching the flicker of unease that crossed her friend’s face.

“It’s strange that the Marlowes were able to send a distress signal without the Spellmans, or their lackeys, noticing. This tactic isn’t new. They always follow the same pattern: surround the house, cut communications, and demand loyalty. If they don’t get an immediate yes, they act fast. Killing everyone…”

“Mmm, that’s true. It’s odd. Every time they use this tactic, by the time we arrive at the family’s home, it’s too late,” Enid murmured.

Wednesday nodded. “Exactly. When we get there, the family is already diminished, dead, kidnapped, or with someone being used as leverage. But even if this is a trap, then we still have something just as valuable.”

“A direct fight,” Enid said, understanding. “Against the Spellmans or their dogs.”

“Yes,” Wednesday replied, a cold gleam in her eyes. “And if we’re lucky, we could capture one. That’s more intel than we’ve had in weeks.”

Enid crossed her arms, “And what if they really did manage to send for help? If they actually did outsmart the surveillance and are waiting for someone to save them?”

“Then we can’t let them die just because it smells like a trap.”

They stared at each other in silence.

Within five minutes, they were ready to leave.

However, they wouldn’t be going on this mission alone.

Given how delicate the situation was, and the very real possibility of an ambush, others had been assigned to join them.

Three Nevermore professors, all with lethal abilities and real-world field experience.

Wednesday and Enid joined the professors. They were already familiar, not just from classes, but because the two of them had gone on missions with them before.

One of the professors was Alecto Kassaris: tall, with an imposing presence and Hellenic beauty. Her hair was made up of delicate dark serpents that hissed softly when she moved, always alert. Alecto belonged to one of the Four Great Gorgon Families.

The second professor was Charles Faulkner, a psychic and direct descendant of Nevermore’s very founder. His surname was one of the Great Six, on the same level as the Addams and the Spellmans.

Charles wasn’t the head of his family, but his reputation preceded him. Slim, elegant, with perfectly combed-back silver hair, he always wore dark gloves, and his lilac eyes held an intensity that seemed to read thoughts without asking. His tone was always polite, and he was known for being incredibly patient, one of the best professors at Nevermore.

Finally, Professor Reina Howlett arrived. A werewolf of short stature but powerful build, with defined muscles and tribal tattoos running down both arms. Reina didn’t come from any prestigious family, but she had earned her place at Nevermore through sheer merit. Her reputation as a fighter was flawless.

The Marlowe estate lay roughly 300 kilometers to the north, in an area between the Vermont mountains and a forested valley where several mid-level psychic families had long established their homes.

Traveling by vehicle would’ve been a waste of time.

Wednesday activated her black aura, and her body became more agile, denser, and more precise. She couldn’t fly, but her endurance, speed, and leaping ability far surpassed that of any human. She also used her shadow travel to move much faster. Enid, in her hybrid wolf form, was easily her equal.

Alecto and Reina were even faster. Alecto glided through the trees like an icy shadow, while Reina ran on all fours when it suited her, growling through clenched teeth with each stride.

Charles, on the other hand, didn’t have a body built for speed. As a telepath with a blue aura, his strength lay in his mind, but he was far from slow. At forty, he had trained his gifted body to its limits and hadn’t neglected his physical conditioning.

In about forty minutes, they covered the first 200 kilometers. The final stretch of the journey took them through a rocky gorge flanked by trees.

“What do you know about the Marlowes?” Wednesday asked suddenly, without slowing her pace.

Charles was the first to answer, his voice resonating clearly though he didn’t raise it, “A mid-level psychic family. They have an interesting history, though far from the legacy of the more ancient bloodlines. Their lineage has weakened over the years. They maintain a fairly traditional family structure, focused on discretion and neutrality.”

“Neutral ideology?” Wednesday asked without turning her head.

“Yes. They’ve never wanted to align themselves with pro-normie ideals, but they also don’t subscribe to supremacist views that fully hate normies either,” Alecto replied, her serpents gently stirring the air.

“Do they have children?” Enid asked.

“Yes. Two,” Reina answered. “They studied at Nevermore years ago. Graduated, spent some time abroad… last I heard, they came back, but didn’t do much of note.”

Alecto turned her face toward Wednesday, “Of course, they’re not much if you compare them to your boyfriend, Luke. There’s no real comparison,” she said with a half-smile.

Wednesday looked at her for just a second, but it was enough. Her face didn’t change, but in her eyes, a dry spark of restrained pride flickered to life.

She knew why Alecto said it. Everyone knew about the incidents Luke had been involved in since his first year at Nevermore. The attack at the Poe Cup, the Blood Moon event the following year, killing Crackstone and Dolores Spellman, and then the Sunnyvale incident…

And considering he had three auras, something not seen in decades, maybe longer, he was certainly hard to ignore.

“Three auras…” Alecto continued, “Though, if we’re being honest, there are rumors he has a fourth. And if that’s true, we’re no longer talking about comparisons. We’re talking about a biological exception.”

“That’s not official,” Charles murmured softly, though it didn’t sound like a denial, more like a diplomatic warning.

Rumors had already begun circulating that Luke possessed a fourth aura. Especially after he survived Sunnyvale, where he fought Elliot. And, as always, it later came to light that he had eliminated Mortimer: a demonic elder, and a mid-level demon.

Many thought it was madness, and claimed he had a fourth aura just to fan the flames. After all, if he had three, why not four?

“I know,” Alecto said, shrugging.

Enid, who had been listening in silence, felt her heart quicken. Pride. A warm emotion that had become forbidden to her. For a long time, she’d avoided thinking of Luke with that kind of intensity. Every time she remembered him, it hurt. Too much.

But now… now something had changed.

For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to feel that pride without guilt. Without needing to suppress it. Because there was hope. Because, even if the idea was new, strange, and still unanswered by Luke, Wednesday had reached out a hand. Had opened a door.

A real possibility.

She glanced at Wednesday from the corner of her eye. She was still moving swiftly, her expression monotone, as if nothing had happened.

As if she hadn’t just shattered the entire board with her proposal. But Enid knew her. She knew how hard it was for her to give up even an inch of emotional control, and what it meant that she had offered that to her.

She wasn’t just her best friend. She was… something more. A partner. Not in the romantic sense, but in the essential one. The only person she could share something as twisted, complex, and visceral as their love for Luke.

And for the first time in a long while, Enid didn’t feel the need to run from what she felt. There was nothing to hide. No shame.

Only one truth: she still loved him. And she no longer had to pretend otherwise.

They continued moving until they finally arrived. The group stopped atop a hill. Half a kilometer below stood the Marlowe estate, dark, old, Victorian in architecture. The lights were on. No screaming. No fire. And that only made it more unsettling.

Charles narrowed his eyes, his lilac gaze glowing faintly. His mind expanded like an invisible web, stretching toward the estate with surgical precision.

“I can clearly sense eleven presences,” he said at last. “Three are in the backyard. The others inside the house.”

“Can you recognize the Marlowe?” Wednesday asked.

“No… I’m not a clairvoyant, unfortunately. But I can feel four minds in a weakened state. Given that it’s a family of four, it’s likely them. Their psychic signatures are scrambled, suggesting severe physical pain or extreme stress. But they’re alive. And conscious.”

“So they did manage to send a signal,” murmured Alecto, her serpents hissing in unease.

“What’s strange,” Charles added with a slight frown, “is that they’re still alive. That’s not the Spellmans’ style. Once they detect hesitation, they act. Swiftly. They execute. And it’s been over forty minutes… of talking.”

“Could it be a trap?” Reina asked, arms crossed tensely.

“It could. But if it is, the Marlowes are truly suffering. This isn’t an illusion. You can’t fake that level of mental trauma,” Charles replied. Then, in a colder tone, he added, “Either way, we can’t walk away. If it’s a trap, we’ll need one of the Spellmans alive to interrogate. And if it’s not… we have to stop the family from being murdered.”

“If there are four Marlowe, that means there are seven enemies,” said Wednesday.

Charles’s brow tightened. “Yes. Three in the garden. Four inside. I can sense them. Dark. Steady. Their thoughts are shielded, and if I go any deeper, they’ll notice me. But one of them is extremely powerful, might be a Spellman.”

A heavy silence fell over the group.

Wednesday took command naturally, “We enter from the east. Fast. Quiet. We take out the ones in the garden first, before they can raise the alarm. Then we move inside. If any of them is a Spellman: top priority, capture them. If we can’t…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.

“Good,” Reina growled, rolling her shoulders. “Let’s move before they decide to execute the entire Marlowe family.”

The group descended the hill, vanishing into the night.

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