Chapter 256 – Floor 50: Part 2

  Mathew stepped into the Manager’s office, and the buzz of the nightclub below softened to a dull hum. The room was a world apart from the hustle and bustle outside, like a calm space in the midst of a storm. It was a functional yet stylish office that could be both a place of business and a place to entertain important guests from the Clan.

  Large windows stretched across the wall to Mathew’s right, offering a perfect view of the dancefloor below. He could see the lights flickering to match the bodies moving to the rhythm of the music.

  In the center of the room was a large desk crafted from dark, polished wood. Its surface was meticulously organized with the exception of an overflowing ashtray and a scattering of ashes around it. Expensive leather furniture filled the room, with a few sofas near the windows and chairs in front of the desk.

  There were paintings of New York landmarks on several of the walls, locations that Mathew recognized even though this wasn’t technically his world. A stone bridge, a shipyard and a few buildings.

  The room smelled like cigarette smoke and alcohol and, curiously, the faint scent of Aether. The spiciness was unmistakable, and Mathew paused for a moment to try to determine where it was coming from but couldn’t track its origins.

  The young woman, Isla, stood near the door as Mathew entered, and his eyes immediately found the person in charge.

  The manager was an older man in his late forties or early fifties. Tall and well-built, his age was betrayed by his neatly styled salt-and-pepper hair. Wearing a navy suit that fit him perfectly, he had matched it with a white shirt and a silk tie.

  When Mathew entered, the manager immediately stood, extinguished the cigarette he was smoking, and extended his hand with practiced ease. He seemed calm on the surface, but Mathew detected the nervous trembling in his fingers and the way his eyes flickered from Mathew’s face to the open door behind him and back again.

  “Vincent Donaghue. Everyone calls me ‘Vic.’ The Clan just called and told me to expect you. I apologize for not greeting you at the door.” Vic said smoothly. His voice was even and measured, but there was a slight tension there as if he were worried about offending Mathew.

  Mathew’s Aura was having an immediate effect, even on Vic, who had been in members of the Clan’s presence in the past. Vic’s hand hovered near the ashtray, his fingers already reaching for another cigarette.

  Unlike with the young woman who had led him here, Isla, as Vic called her, Mathew made no effort to ease ‘Vic’s growing nervousness. In fact, Mathew leaned into it. He subtly amplified the tension until Vic couldn’t even meet his gaze.

  The manager’s steel-gray eyes would flick anywhere in the room except at Mathew’s face.

  “Care for a drink? Vic asked, the pace of his speech too quick to seem casual. Without waiting for Mathew’s reply, Vic shifted his focus to Isla.

  “Isla, go get us a bottle of scotch and a couple of glasses. Not the cheap stuff, sweetheart.” The order was brisk and retained some of the manager’s accustomed authority. Before she could turn and leave, Mathew held out his hand.

  “Stay. I’m not in the mood for a drink, and neither is Vincent. Have a seat, both of you.” Mathew gestured for Isla to take a chair while Vic sat on his with such haste that it almost seemed he was falling into it.

  ‘Magnus truly was a useful thing.’ Mathew thought. To Vic, Mathew was a terrifying presence, while Isla took comfort in him. Mathew could feel his talent and skill with the ability growing, pushing towards a new Tier on the horizon.

  He just needed more experience with it.

  Mathew took his own seat, appearing to the pair as if he were a king taking his throne. Folding his hands in his lap, Mathew continued.

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  “You know why I’m here?” He asked, making the question almost sound like a statement.

  “You’re here to check the books. Look, I can assure you that everything is in order. I’ve combed through them several times today, and they are perfect. I don’t know why-” Vic stammered, only for Mathew to cut him off.

  “Show me.”

  Page Break

  Mathew, to be perfectly honest, didn’t have a single clue what he was looking at. There were rows of figures, page after page, with black and red numbers indicating profits and losses. There were bills to vendors, cash register receipts, and credit card statements. Piles of them for month after month.

  The first thing he realized was that the club Eden didn’t seem to like using computers. Vic claimed they were old school; everything was physical, with digital backups used later. In a way, it made it easier to obscure the Clan’s activities.

  Who was to say that the Club wasn’t turning in millions of profits every day? They had the receipts to prove it.

  But Mathew, who was trained to be a lawyer but had spent centuries, if not millennia, inside the Tower, didn’t have a prayer of finding a discrepancy. He wasn’t an accountant; he didn’t have a head for numbers.

  Vic, however, didn’t know that.

  So, Mathew acted like he knew exactly what he was looking at. He ran his fingers down the ledger and made sure his lips moved slightly as if he were counting or talking to himself. He flipped through the pages, checking one page against another.

  He piled ledgers on Vic’s desk, shoving aside the full ashtray to make more room. He asked Isla to turn on more lights so that he could see better. He did everything he could think of to make is seem as if he were conducting a throughout audit.

  And the entire time, Mathew was quietly increasing his Aura. He let it seep into the room like an invisible fog. The ability, Magnus, was working in full force to subtly enhance his presence.

  To Vic, this quiet young man from the Clan began to shift in his mind’s eye from someone to tread carefully around to someone whose very existence inspired dread.

  Vic began to unravel right in front of Mathew’s eyes. The manager’s hands trembled as he fumbled for his pack of cigarettes, and whenever he spoke, there was a slight edge in his voice that betrayed his fear. He avoided looking at Mathew altogether and had settled on looking out the large windows at the club below.

  By the time Mathew had flipped through the third ledger, he could see that Vic was about to crack. The man’s face had developed a twitch, and patches of sweat were beginning to show on his suit. Closing the ledger with a sharp, deafening slam, Mathew leaned back in his chair and glared at Vincent Donoghue.

  The sound made Vic flinch, and, for a brief moment, the manager froze.

  “Did you really think you could get away with it?” Mathew asked softly, his voice a whisper that sliced through the thick tension in the office. Each word was deliberate, precise, and merciless.

  Outside, Mathew’s face was expressionless and grave, while inside, he was curious about how Vic would react. He still had no clue if there were any evidence in the ledgers. He doubted whoever was messing with the club’s financials would be that careless.

  But Mathew didn’t need to know if there was a problem. Because Vic did.

  Vic swallowed hard, his composure unravelling even further. The question hung in the air; the accusation made his face pale, and his twitch worsened. Mathew didn’t need to say anything else; his aura alone was enough to force the truth.

  “I…I didn’t want to do it. They made me. You have to believe me!” Vic stammered, his voice cracking. The truth spilled from him like a dam bursting; whatever control he had was gone. He leaned forward, his hands clasped together in a pleading gesture.

  Isla, still seated on the couch in case Mathew needed her, gaped at the display from Vic. The calm, composed professionalism the manager always shown was gone, and a blubbering mess was left in his place.

  “Who?” Mathew asked grimly while being secretly relieved that it had been so easy.

  He didn’t know what he was going to do if it turned out that Vic had no idea what he was talking about. The club’s manager was really the only lead he had to go on.

  Now, he could get the answer and return to Adelaide for his reward.

  Vic’s hands trembled as his grip tightened until his knuckles were white. His gaze darted to Isla for a brief moment as if seeking help, but her shocked expression made him turn away from her. Slowly, he exhaled, his breath shaky.

  “The Eclipsed. I know they’re your enemies, but they…offered things that the Clan would never have given me.” Vic admitted softly. The confession seemed to wring something out of Vic, and the man almost deflated. His tall, proud stature had been diminished somehow.

  Once again, Mathew was at a loss. He had no idea who ‘The Eclipsed’ were, or why they were his enemies, but it seemed Vic expected him to know.

  Luckily, Mathew didn’t need to understand. There were benefits to being low on the ladder, something that he hadn’t been able to experience in quite a few Floors. He could just pass the problems on to someone else.

  Inwardly chuckling, Mathew pulled the phone out of his pocket and pressed the number for the only contact in his phone. Waiting until it connected, he passed it over to Vic with a serious expression.

  “Tell her everything.” Mathew ordered.

  He was pleasantly surprised when he heard a loud ‘ding’ ring out.

  Another Floor down.