Distraction and Observation (Manifesto)

[Nesrin Aziz]

Nesrin enjoyed his escort for the same reasons she had enjoyed Wicked ushering her safely from the house party. She liked the power of it, the singular attention, the sense of someone content to wrap themselves around her fingers. But the briefest misstep was like icing on the cake. His surprise was adorable. Watching the small curl of his flattered smile burned a scandalous flame in her chest, but if his reply was the most inciting invite to coax him to some delightfully sinful distraction along the way, she refrained. At least for now.

After the heat and light of the club, the freezing chill of outside hit cold as sharpened knives. She found more thrill than dismay in the way it shivered through her, clouding her breath under the streetlamps. The Archivist’s revelations were still churning in the back of her mind, to be unpacked and considered properly later, but there was also a sense of euphoria in the escape. Even if the Jackal lost interest, the Archivist’s stamp would almost certainly open other doors. Before the week was out she’d have gotten rid of the Key, and Bode’s name would burn in notoriety on the dark web; all before the Emissary ever had a chance to track her down.

Nesrin wasn’t entirely sure what happened, then, except darkness smudged the edge of her vision, and she was suddenly aware of power. Her eyes flared wide, and she saw little of the altercation, beyond that she was shoved back from it. Her shoulder hit against a wall, a stinging scrape, and she braced to catch her breath, tense and ready to run.