The Spy In You (A Sokeefe Spy AU)

CSDL teaser

Chapter 1

Sophie 

“This looks like the Paris hideout.” 

She knew her sentiments were echoed even before her companions had responded. The remaining crystal they’d raided from the last hideout had leaped them somewhere seemingly deep underground. 

Balefire sconces on the walls lit up in the rough, unevenly hewn tunnel as they passed. 

Their group was small, only the absolute necessary on their quick trip. Mr Forkle had assured them that the Black Swan’s dwarves had scouted ahead, that it was all clear, and they only needed a few people to sweep the scene to ensure that they truly got everything they needed to. 

Sandor led the way, sword out, cautious as always, followed by Mr Forkle, then Sophie. Keefe followed directly behind her, a hand on the small of her back (because he’d insisted she was going to trip at least twice. She did. Three times.), and Ro trailed behind him. 

The first thing she’d noticed was that the air in the tunnel was not stale, despite them being underground. The ground was also worn and smooth, suggesting that this was a frequently used hideout that had been worn by feet passing over countless times. 

“Something just touched my arm,” Keefe hissed in a stage whisper. It echoed down the hall. “It better just be the wall.” 

Sophie let out a quiet laugh. “I highly doubt there would be any creepy crawlies on the walls. In any case–” 

“Stop!” Sandor held out a hand, stopping so abruptly, they all almost crashed into each other. 

“What’s wrong?” Sophie whispered. 

Mr Forkle must have been spreading out his consciousness to sense for anyone in the area, because he responded the same time Sandor and Ro did. 

“There’s someone else here.” 

~ 

Keefe 

“We approach slowly,” Gigantor warned, slowing in footsteps and unsheathing his sword. 

“It’s a weak consciousness, but there,” Mr Forkle told them, much more calmly than any of them probably was. “Likely not much of a threat. Maybe one of the Neverseen’s forgotten prisoners.” 

“That doesn’t make anything better,” Foster mumbled under her breath, and Keefe felt inclined to agree. 

They entered a room illuminated by electric lights. It was surprisingly furnished with old, but clearly well used couches and desks. The desks were piled with scrolls, gadgets, maps, and other things that might’ve been of interest had they not been looking for whoever was here. 

The space actually looked liveable, far more comfortable and nicer smelling than any of the hideouts Keefe had been in during his time with the Neverseen. It looked like a living room. 

There were adjacent rooms that they instantly split up to search, which was very much against Gigantor’s warning to stay close. 

But something drew Keefe to the room furthest from where they’d entered. 

He walked over, and a few steps away from the doorless entrance, he was hit with a tidal wave of an emotion he hadn’t been expecting. 

Agony. 

And then a rough, wheezed cough sounded from inside the room, and everyone whirled around, already making their way to him. 

But Keefe got there first. 

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. 

But it certainly wasn’t a small bedroom, just a few times larger than a closet, with nothing but a cot and a nightstand with a glass of water on it. 

Neither was he expecting a lean frame– a young woman– half lying on the bed, hunched in the space between the nightstand and the bed, coughing dry wheezes that sounded like they hurt. 

He froze. 

He couldn’t see her face, because her long hair– so blonde it was almost white– shielded it from view. But she leaned heavily on the nightstand, weak fingers reaching for the single glass of water on it. 

They barely brushed against the glass, and sent it crashing to the ground in an almost earsplitting shatter. 

The sound broke him out of his stupor. 

He stepped forward, to do what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe to help her back onto the bed, maybe to clear the glass, but she stiffened at the sound of his approaching footsteps, and he halted. 

Slowly, she looked up, and it clearly took a lot of effort to do so. 

The breath knocked out of his lungs when her sharp gaze, contrary to her weakened state, locked with his. 

Those were the same eyes he saw every time he looked into the mirror. 

Those very eyes widened, and the emotions between them wavered. 

Shock. Grief. But most of all, fear. 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she rasped, frozen. 

Her voice… there was something he couldn’t place about it. Something oddly comforting and painfully familiar. 

And then he felt that old sensation of an erased memory clicking into place. A name. 

Veralin. 

He must’ve said it out loud as well, because she flinched. 

“You’re not supposed to remember me either,” she whispered. 

And then the world went black.