The Nightingale, a formidable duo of mind and brawn travels to Manila to find the infamous Lazarus coin. A journey of love, crime, and temptation begin.
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When Night offers you a deal, you take it. Not unless you want to clash against Gale. Throug...
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Gale fell on the king-size bed, pulled by the swift drowsiness that came from his countless sleepless nights. Despite remaining untouched inside the wardrobe, the blankets smelled like nectar and sweet detergent, and so did the sheets and pillowcase.
For Gale, it was a grueling battle to stay awake. It didn't help that the birds sang lullabies by his window and that the breeze from the groves caressed his skin like cold kisses from Mother Nature.
He sank, about to fall into slumber until the door grated against the jagged wood. The sound of it sent Gale gasping for air.
"Night!" he screamed. "It's just you." He rubbed his arms and felt goosebumps drawn on his skin.
"Can't sleep again?" The young boss asked while he pivoted the door's lock. "And what the hell are you thinking? You can't call me Night."
"We're the only ones here, but I suppose you have a point." Gale sighed.
"The exorcists could have wiretapped everything, and we wouldn't know," Night whispered. "You should inspect the bathrooms. Maybe they hid a camera in there." He chuckled, strolling toward his friend. "Well, I already checked mine, but there's nothing."
"And you're disappointed, of course." Gale rose from the bed to skim through his luggage. "Anyway, aren't you supposed to be helping outside?"
"I was, but the strange old housemate arrived."
Gale pulled a fresh, white shirt, messing up the neat heap of clothes he arranged a while ago. At this point, the perfectionist alarms in his head were too tired to do anything. "You mean the Romulo person? I find it suspicious that they didn't mention him at all."
Gale peeled off his clothes with the energy of a sloth. The sunlight laundered his body with its warm lusters. The man was a spotless porcelain doll, his every tendon chiseled with care—no scar nor mark tainted his flawlessness. To think that not too long ago, bullet holes covered him—the Devil of Wrath preserved its host well.
"Don't you worry, the man's a dinosaur. His can't even kill a fly with his arthritis, I'm sure." Night turned his eyes to the window while his friend undid his belt.
"You're right. The twins are the problem," Gale said and pulled up a fresh pair of pants. "Fortunately, we're still on their good side."
"And we will remain on their good side," said Night, "as long as we know how to manage the two."
"Leroy is not difficult to handle. Just give the man a few flattering words, and he'll be all over you. It's his sister that we need to worry about."
Night nodded, smiling while staring far into the woods. "The woman's an enigma. But thankfully, her brother is there to keep her spontaneous behaviour in check. Still, we can't be sloppy around her."
