The rumor stopped being just neighborhood gossip on Tuesday morning.
Brittany arrived at Vivian's locker with her phone in her hand and a more serious expression than usual.
—My cousin texted me again. This time she sent more details.
Vivian closed her locker without looking at what was inside.
—What did she say?
—That the police did show up. That the dead guy had strange cuts. And that there was a smile on the alley wall… but it wasn't painted with spray paint. They say it looked like it had been made with dried blood. It still hasn't made the major newspapers, but nobody in the neighborhood is talking about anything else.
Vivian felt a brief chill run down the back of her neck.
—Then it wasn't just made up.
—It doesn't look like it.
That same afternoon, they had to juggle things around to inform the other two. Ana answered from her grandmother's house in Newton. Madeleine called afterward, with the sound of a television in the background.
The four of them couldn't meet in person that day. The distance between Morris and Sussex didn't help. So they talked over the phone, one at a time, passing along the same message.
When Vivian hung up for the last time, she remained staring at the wall of her room.
The pattern was repeating itself again. Violence. Mark. Disappearance.
And once again, they were behind it, piecing things together.
---
Ryan was bored.
He had spent the afternoon checking Nexum, answering a couple of support tickets, and looking at the ranking statistics. Everything was working. Slowly, but it was working. There were no fires to put out or Entities to hunt that night.
So he did what anyone with too much curiosity and too much power would do when bored:
He went to do a little spying.
He teleported to a rooftop overlooking Vivian's house. Not too close. Just close enough to know whether the girls were moving around.
He didn't need to hear every word. With a little magic, it was enough to pick up the tone, the tension, the way Brittany gestured while talking on the phone, and the way Vivian paced around the room.
They were confirming the Trenton rumor.
Ryan sat on the edge of the rooftop, his hands in his pockets, and smiled to himself.
—Of course they confirmed it…
He stayed there for a while, unhurried, simply watching.
And suddenly, without meaning to, he remembered the letter.
It had already been some time since he had sent them that absurd job offer. Balloons. Letters. "Congratulations, you've been hired." "No is not an acceptable answer." He had asked them to investigate the twins. He had paid them. He had even given them a way to communicate with him.
They had accepted—reluctantly, frightened, but they had accepted.
Ryan rested his elbows on his knees.
Now those same girls were investigating him without even knowing it.
The irony was delicious.
He ran a hand over his face.
He could appear. He could use the same voice, the same mask, even bring back the tone from those letters and speak to them directly as the Clown. He could sit with them one night and calmly tell them that the one who had "hired" them and the one they were investigating were the same person.
But no.
Not yet.
If he gave them everything on a silver platter, the game would be over. And the game was only getting interesting.
—Let them confirm it on their own first —he murmured. Let them reach the conclusions themselves. Then… we'll see if it's worth having a conversation.
He disappeared from the rooftop without making a sound.
---
The next day, the four of them managed to meet again at Vivian's house.
Ana arrived with dark circles under her eyes. Madeleine brought a small notebook where she had written down what her brother had heard from a friend in Trenton. Brittany placed her cousin's message on the table. Vivian opened the large notebook.
—So it's confirmed —Vivian said. It's not just gossip. There was a dead man. There was a smile. And the people in the neighborhood are scared.
Ana crossed her arms.
—It still hasn't made the major news.
—Because they're still treating it like some strange neighborhood murder —Brittany replied. But we know how these things start.
Madeleine flipped through her little notebook.
—And now what? Do we keep doing the same thing? Just listening?
Vivian nodded slowly.
—For now, yes. No going to Trenton. No looking for the alley. Just… stay alert. If something else comes up, we add it to the collection.
Ana looked at the open notebook, filled with dates and names.
—It feels more real every time.
—Because it is —Brittany said quietly.
No one argued with that.
---
That night, Ryan checked Nexum again for a while. Then he closed the computer and stared at the mark on his chest.
It still burned from time to time. It still reminded him that there were bigger things waiting.
But for now, he had an audience of four girls doing exactly what he wanted: thinking, connecting the dots, and getting scared in the right way.
He smiled in the dim light.
He had hired them once to investigate others.
Now they were investigating him.
And he, bored and curious, was willing to let them continue a little longer.
—Confirm whatever you want —he whispered. When the time comes… maybe I'll have another letter for you.
This time, however, the letter wouldn't come in a balloon.
It would come in person.