Shadow Serpents: The Ordinary

Chapter 25: The Unveiling of Secrets

~ Dawn Next Day ~

<Clary's POV>

We ditch the car and ran through the city till we come to a narrow ally where Leo is waiting with Percy and Xymara, who had gotten out when Marcus had set up the bombs. He drove us back to the Bungalow. 

Now here we are in the dining room, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb dangling from the ceiling, bore the weight of secrets. Our team had meticulously unpacked their cache of espionage gear, transforming the space into a clandestine workshop. Here's how it looked:

The scarred wooden table dominated the center of the room. Its surface bore the marks of countless blade sharpening and chemical spills. Papers, blueprints, and photographs lay scattered—a patchwork quilt of intrigue.

The flickering candle on the table cast elongated shadows against the peeling wallpaper. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the dangerous secrets whispered within its walls.

Against one wall stood a series of weapon racks. Marcus' personal dagger collection gleamed—each blade with a history etched into its steel. Silenced pistols and M16s rested nearby, their mattes absorbing light like a black hole.

Next to these, a glass case showcased their spy gadgets. The poison-tipped umbrella lay open, its delicate vial glinting. Next to it, the insectothopter's blueprint was pinned, wings outstretched. Coat button cameras dangled like forgotten ornaments.

An antique umbrella stand nearby held more than rain shields. Here, the poison-tipped umbrella nestled among its mundane companions. Sofia wondered if the unsuspecting guests at the ball had ever noticed its deadly secret, as she watched the mansion fall to the ground by a camera right outside the gate.

The opposite wall displayed oddities. A framed photograph captured a pigeon with a camera strapped to its chest—a relic from WWII. Nearby, the tooth transmitter sat in a velvet-lined box, its tiny antenna peeking out.

The room's worn floorboards concealed hidden compartments. Mattheo lifted a loose plank, revealing a cache of microfilm canisters. Marcus adjusted a painting on the wall, revealing a hollow space for encrypted documents.

On one wall, a String crisscrossed a large map pinned to the wall. Red threads connected faces—Luis, Anton, Mr. Kaspersky. Ale traced the lines, mapping betrayal and loyalty.

In the corner, a worn armchair faced the window. Luis had sat there, sipping wine, his eyes darting between Clary and Marcus yesterday morning while the others were out either shopping or tracking. Now, it remained empty—a ghostly reminder of shifting allegiances.

Shards of glass still littered the floor near the shattered window. The explosion had left its mark—a jagged hole through which moonlight spilled, illuminating chaos and triumph.

As we stood amidst their arsenal, they knew this room held more than gear. It had their past victories and future uncertainties. The walls whispered secrets, and the air tasted of adrenaline. They were spies, dancers in a deadly masquerade, and this room was their backstage—a place where shadows converged, and betrayal lingered. Now we just must wait for his daughter's birthday. The 31st of July for our final face-off before returning.

Outside, the city of Seville continued its oblivious existence, unaware of the battle unfolding within these four walls.

~Two Days Later~

Me and Marcus sat with with the rest around a paper-filled table, in the dimly lit safehouse. The remnants of their last mission—the gadgets, weapons, and secrets—were neatly stowed away. But the shadows of betrayal still clung to their skin.