While William was chatting with Milagros and Letecia, he didn't notice Kemar, Max, and Grace sneaking up behind him.

"Well, well," Grace drawled with a teasing smile, her eyes flicking between the two women. "You're not wasting any time, huh? New friends?"

"Dude," Max let out a low whistle and clapped William on the shoulder, "Did you win the lottery or something? Two beauties at once!"

Kemar scratched the back of his neck, glancing toward a free table.

"Uh, maybe we should sit somewhere else? Y'know… not crash whatever's going on here?"

"Haha, no, it's fine," William replied tightly, forcing a smile though irritation knotted in his chest. "They were just about to leave... right, ladies?"

His glance toward Milagros and Letecia carried all the subtlety of a flare gun — time to go before things get worse.

But instead of taking the hint, both women seemed even more invigorated by the sudden company.

"Now, William," Letecia said softly, her chin tilting upward with perfect poise, a coquettish glimmer dancing at the corners of her mouth. "Ain't that a mighty rude way of introducin' us? We haven't even met your friends proper yet."

She reached out a graceful hand toward Grace.

"My name's Letecia," she said, her voice lilting with a sweet Louisiana warmth. "And this here's my dear friend, Milagros."

Milagros only gave a curt nod — polite, but detached — her dark eyes scanning the newcomers with quiet, aloof curiosity.

"Will, man, you seriously gotta work on your manners," Max chuckled. "You can't just keep all the girls to yourself. Share a little, huh?"

A flicker of anger flashed in William's eyes; he shot Max a look sharp enough to kill.

You idiots. You have no idea who you're flirting with — I'm trying to save your lives.

Out loud, he said only,

"Right... sorry. My bad." He gestured between them. "Everyone, this is Letecia and Milagros. Ladies — Grace, Max, and Kemar."

"Pleasure to meet you," Grace said brightly, shaking Letecia's hand.

"Why, sugar, the pleasure's all mine," Letecia purred, holding Grace's gaze a beat too long.

They all sat down together. Deliberately — or by design — Letecia and Milagros took the seats on either side of William. He caught a whiff of warm perfume and exhaled, silently thinking: This is exactly what I was trying to avoid.

"So, how did you all meet?" Kemar asked casually, exchanging a curious glance with Max and Grace.

"Oh, it's quite the story," Letecia began, her accent thickening just a hint, her words slow and satin-smooth. "You could say fate brought us together."

"Fate, huh?" Max smirked. "That sounds suspiciously romantic."

Letecia leaned closer, and the air around her seemed to carry the sultry blend of spice and night-blooming flowers. Her gaze drifted toward Grace.

"Grace, honey," she said in a low, velvety tone, "you got yourself the most peculiar kind of aura. Tell me, you believe in a little somethin' beyond this world? Spirit talk and such?"

"Aura?" Grace blinked, raising an eyebrow. "Or do you just mean my shirt?" She laughed, pointing to the slogan stretched across it: My coven meets at three.

Letecia chuckled softly. "Maybe a lil' bit o' both, darlin'. But I can feel somethin' in you. There's an energy... somethin' special."

Her voice dropped lower, almost like a purr that hummed just beneath the café chatter.

William stiffened. His pulse picked up, hands curling into fists beneath the table.

"If you'd like," Letecia continued, her tone silk and smoke, "I could give you my address. We could talk — about things most folks wouldn't quite understand."

"Ooh, mysterious," Grace grinned, clearly amused and utterly oblivious to the subtle danger lacing the words.

Milagros turned to William, the faintest of smirks tugging at her lips. Her dark eyes locked with his, wordlessly taunting — Your move, hero. Let's see how you get out of this one.

William took a slow breath, every nerve on edge. More than anything, he wished he could just vanish — dissolve into thin air — before this strange, tangled moment spiraled into something far, far worse.

"Hold up a sec," Max said suddenly, narrowing his eyes like he was just putting the pieces together. "Wait a minute—you're that guru girl from the rooftop crowd, aren't you? I knew I recognized you! I talked to you, like, five times. Don't tell me you forgot!"

Letecia smiled — slow and knowing, the kind of smile a cat gives a bird it's already caught.

"Well now, sugar," she drawled, her voice honey-sweet and warm, "maybe you did come by. But bless your heart, I surely don't recall that li'l detail."

Max's grin froze, then slid away entirely. It was like someone had slapped him with a cold rag.

Great, he thought bitterly. Nothing like getting humiliated by a witch in front of your friends.

He had gone to those rooftop "spiritual gatherings" plenty of times — cheap wine, clouds of incense, girls humming to an out-of-tune guitar. Up there, under the city lights, he used to feel… free. Now, standing before Letecia's amused gaze, he just felt like a fool.

"So wait—Will," he said quickly, forcing a laugh to cover his embarrassment, "you did end up going to one of those rooftop enlightenment things after all?"

"Ha… yeah," William muttered, eyes fixed on the table. "Just out of curiosity. That's… kinda how we met."

Grace spun to look at him, incredulous. "You went to those rooftop druggies?"

"Now, now, hold on just a moment," Letecia interrupted with a voice soft enough to hush a storm. She leaned in slightly, her accent smoothing every word like velvet. "Ain't no need to use ugly words, darlin'. Those are just young souls lookin' for meanin' in a world that don't always make sense. That ain't no crime, sugar, now is it?"

Her tone was calm, hypnotic — her eyes gleamed with a gentle light that pulled attention without demanding it.

"Ain't nobody up there doin' nothin' terrible," she went on, with a shrug that somehow felt intimate. "Just a lil' herb to ease the mind, help you clear the noise. That's all."

"Grace, seriously," William said quickly, "I didn't smoke anything. I just… listened for a while."

Kemar snorted and took a sip of his Coke. "Big deal. It's just weed. Who hasn't tried it?"

"Kemar!" Grace snapped, then turned a sharp look on William. "Still, you shouldn't even be mixed up in that kind of thing. Don't start turning into him."

"Hey, hey," Max protested, throwing his hands up. "What did I do? I just go there to hang out, meet people — and, okay, maybe some really cute girls. That's it!"

Letecia watched the exchange with lazy amusement, the kind of patience that comes from knowing you're the one quietly steering the current. Her lips curved into a faint smile — a subtle promise to herself. She thrived in little cracks like this, where tension started to splinter trust.

"Now, y'all," she said at last, her tone shifting to that of a calm teacher ending a classroom squabble, "let's not get all riled up. It's all much simpler than it sounds."

Under the table, her hand brushed against William's leg — light, almost tender, but laced with something magnetic and dangerous.

"William and I," she continued sweetly, "have met only a few times. No 'drugs,' no funny business — just talkin', breathin' work, a lil' spiritual unfoldin', you might say."

William froze at her touch.

And then — something surged inside him. Like a spark jumping between synapses.

A voice, feminine and stern, ignited in his mind.

"Will, I'd advise you not to let your lamia lure that girl in. She'll drain her dry before you can blink."

He jerked his head toward Milagros. She sat perfectly still, as if nothing had happened. Only the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth hinted she was aware.

"Our connection's active already?" he thought, stunned. "How can you talk to me like this?"

Milagros' eyes didn't move, but he caught the barest nod.

"Almost active. My power lets me slip into your thoughts. You can't answer back yet — not properly. But you'll learn. For now, do one thing: keep Grace from going with her. If she accepts, Letecia'll drain her energy completely."

"You're serious—?" he started to think, but the flash in Milagros's gaze silenced him instantly. No time for disbelief.

Across the table, Grace was already laughing. "Maybe I should come up to the roof sometime — see what all the fuss is about. Figure out if you're all druggies or just plain weirdos."

Letecia's smile bloomed, slow and sultry as a magnolia opening under moonlight.

"Oh, honey, you should come. I've got a feelin' you'd take to it right quick. We could sure use a tender, open spirit like yours."

That did it.

William shot up so fast his chair scraped harshly against the floor.

"Alright—party's over," he said tightly. "We're done here. Let's go."

Max blinked, puzzled.

"Whoa, where are you off to, man? We just sat down."

"Yeah, well… I've got things to take care of," William cut him off, his tone clipped. Without waiting for objections, he grabbed Letecia's hand. "Come on, Letecia. We really need to go."

She looked at him with mild surprise, then turned that same gentle gaze toward the others.

"Well now," she purred, smiling faintly, "if the host of the party insists…"

They'd nearly reached the door — William even felt the faint chill of air drifting in from the hallway — when a voice called from behind.

"Hey, Will!" Kemar pushed back his chair halfway. "Oh, almost forgot — that exchange professor, the one from Arkham, he's here already. Think he's hanging around near the dean's office. You might wanna check it out — people say he's kind of… eccentric."

William stopped mid-step, half-turned, eyebrows rising.

"From Arkham? Seriously? He's already here?"

There was a note of intrigue in his voice — even excitement. A visiting professor from Arkham, that old, mysterious place whispered about in academic circles — its libraries, its sealed archives, its quietly unhinged scholars… That was something.

But before he could say another word, something shifted beside him.

Letecia — warm, animated, playful Letecia — went utterly still. The life seemed to drain out of her body in a single breath. Her smile faded, her hand went slack, falling from William's grasp. For a heartbeat, she was a statue carved from porcelain and tension.

"'Scuse me…" Her voice now was flat, quiet — like it was coming from far away. "Did you say… a professor from Arkham?"

Kemar blinked, thrown off by her sudden change in tone.

"Uh, yeah? That's what I heard. Is there a problem?"

The golden light that usually shimmered in Letecia's eyes was gone — replaced by a murky darkness that made her gaze look almost empty. She lifted her chin just slightly, as if trying to hold her expression together.

"Oh… no, sugar. Nothin' like that," she said softly, forcing a paper-thin smile. "Just a strange lil' coincidence, that's all."

Her eyes flickered to William. "We oughta be goin', darlin', don't you think?"

William frowned, noting the way her voice trembled at the edge.

"Letecia… are you okay? You know this professor or something?"

She shook her head — too quickly. Her gaze darted aside, refusing to meet his.

"No, honey. Don't know him. Don't wanna know him neither. Now come on, Will. Please."

Her hand found his again — this time sharply, almost desperate. Without another glance back, she pulled him toward the door with quick, purposeful strides.

Max let out a low chuckle as they disappeared down the corridor, but Grace didn't laugh. Her brows furrowed slightly as she watched them go — there was something off about Letecia now, something brittle under all that charm.

Out in the hallway, the air was cooler, the hum of distant voices fading behind them until the silence seemed to press against William's ears. He glanced at Letecia — the set of her shoulders, the tight line of her lips — she looked nothing like the breezy woman he'd first met.

"Letecia," he said quietly, his voice echoing faintly off the walls. "You know something. Why did that name — Arkham — shake you up like that?"

She stopped beside the wall and turned to him. For a moment, her gaze softened, but underneath, something sharp flickered — a glint of fear or fury, he couldn't tell which.

"Sugar," she whispered, her voice lower now, shaded with that smooth Cajun lilt, "sometimes it's best not to know who's comin' outta places like that." Her eyes gleamed — dark honey in dim light. "'Cause when you do find out, you might wish you hadn't heard a damn word."

Then, as if slipping on a mask, she smiled again — too fast, too bright.

"Now c'mon, chéri. This hallway's crawlin' with ears that don't belong to us."

She tugged him along before he could protest, her grip firm, her steps urgent and silent.

And as they disappeared into the echoing corridor, William couldn't help but feel it — a word like Arkham wasn't just a name anymore. It was a warning bell, faint but unmistakable, tolling somewhere in the dark.

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