Convergence

Little Tokyo, Los Angeles, 2025

POV: Naga

Shelby pushed the door of the restaurant open like she belonged. She walked in with the kind of confidence that almost looked like recklessness. Not many humans were like her. I'd yet to meet many of them from this era, but I just knew.

“Mr. Specter sent us,” she told the man behind the counter. It looked like he was just getting ready to close up shop.

The words froze him. Chopsticks stopped halfway to his mouth. His eyes flicked from Shelby, and then to me, like he’d just remembered something he didn’t want to.

“Wait here,” he said, before vanishing through the beaded curtain at the back.

Shelby leaned an elbow on the counter with a casual grin. “See? Told you it'd work.”

“Or he'll come back and shoot us,” I said.

The incident with Mr. Specter was still fresh in my mind.

She smirked. “Then I guess we'll rot together underneath a dusty ramen shop.”

We waited. My shadows stirred under the stools, twitching like restless animals.

Above us, the floor groaned. Voices, muffled. Then a door slid, and then closed, followed by silence.

The owner came back, drying his hands. His face was flat, careful. “Upstairs,” he said. “They’ll see you.”

The stairs were steep, worn from decades of shoes, each step groaning under Shelby’s sneakers. Mine were soundless, but I felt the air change as we climbed.

At the top of the stairs, Shelby slid the door open with a rattle.

The room was small, perhaps the kind of space meant for storage. A single bulb swayed from a cord, its swing carving restless shadows into the walls. In the middle sat a low table, cluttered with papers and what looked to be diagrams, names, and circles drawn so dark the ink bruised the pages.

Three sets of gazes peered up at us from three different angles.

The one at the table was tallest. He had a lean build, rigid posture and dark hair that fell to his eyes.

By the wall leaned a girl, smaller. Her arms were crossed, staring daggers at us as if she'd already decided that she disliked us.

At the window sat a boy with narrow shoulders and a frail frame. His cyan hair caught the bulb’s glow, pale eyes drifting between Shelby and I.

The tall one spoke first. “Specter sent you? I told him he'd get his cut after we get Malice.”

Shelby stepped in without hesitation. “Huh? We're not here for that." She pointed at herself. “Shelby Chen. I'm an occult researcher.” She jerked her thumb at me. “And this is Naga. He's a bit harder to explain.”

The pink-haired girl snorted. “Get to the point.”

Shelby grinned, not bothered. “I'm about to, relax.”

The boy at the window stared from a distance, as if distance was his armor.

Then the tall one’s eyes shifted to me, and back to Shelby. “Why did Specter send you?”

“We gave you our names. I've yet to hear yours,” I said.

He studied me, then clicked his pen shut, sharp as a trigger. “Makoto.” His hand flicked toward the others. “Aki and Haru.”

Aki didn't seem happy when her name was given out. Haru only gave us a small nod.

Shelby crossed her arms. “Good. Now that we’re introduced, here’s the pitch. Specter says you’re looking for someone involved with Malice. So are we."

The word Malice tightened the air. Makoto’s jaw clenched. Aki shifted off the wall, eyes narrowing. Haru turned his full gaze on me, pale and steady.

I looked at the papers. The same word carved into them, circled until the page nearly tore.

“I caught her scent here, in this city,” I said.

Makoto’s voice sharpened. “Whose.”

“Haneul’s.”

The bulb hummed. Makoto raised a brow.

“Who's that?” Aki asked.

“An angel,” I said. “She's the one I'm looking for. Yesterday I caught her scent for a moment out on the streets. Angel blood. Her blood. And if this Malice trades in it, then I need to find them.”

Makoto’s stare sharpened. “You expect us to believe you can track angels by scent.”

“You can believe what you want,” I said. “I don’t need your faith. I need information.”

The silence was heavy.

Aki scoffed. “How are we supposed to believe you?”

I loosened the lock inside me. Shadows spilled from my ankles and wrists, thin at first, then thickening as they spread across the floor like ink in water. They crawled under the table, and climbed the walls until the small room was engulfed in black.

Aki dropped into stance, fists curling. Haru jerked away off the sill, wide-eyed. Makoto’s hand twitched over his pen, every tendon drawn tight, but he held steady. They weren't nearly as surprised as Shelby when she first saw it. That made me wonder what it is they've already seen.

I let the shadows linger for a moment, then drew them back in. I just hoped I wouldn't have to keep pulling out this trick just to get people to believe me.

“There,” I said. “We both want the same thing. You've been at this longer than us and have information we need. I have a keen sense of smell that you three lack.”

Makoto didn’t blink. “If you’re lying, we'll kill you.”

“But if I’m right,” I said, “it gets you closer to Malice than you’ve ever been.”

Shelby stepped in, steady as ever. “That’s the deal. You’re out of leads. We’re not. He caught her trail once already. Put him on the streets and he’ll catch it again.”

Makoto’s eyes moved from me to her, then back. Then he looked to his companions with a look that was almost resigned. “We’re running out of options.”

Aki muttered, “How do we know he’s not Malice?”

“Right. Can you explain how you have these powers?” Haru asked softly, his gaze drifting to me.

Between him and Aki, Haru seemed like the more reasonable one. I noted that.

I let my shadows curl tight around my ankles, leashed. “I was an angel,” I said. “A long time ago.”

Shelby stared at me in silence. I’d figured she’d already worked that one out herself.

The room had gone still after my words. Makoto didn’t blink. His stare was steady, weighing me the way a scale does, indifferent but cautious. Haru leaned against the sill again, but his eyes didn’t drift away this time. They stayed on me, sharp and curious.

“So that’s that,” Shelby said, tapping one of the ink-soaked papers on the table. “You’re chasing a secret company with no trail to follow. That’s where we come in.”

Aki scoffed. “Remind me what you bring to the table again.”

Shelby pouted. “I’ll show you when I need to.”

Makoto’s gaze flicked to Shelby. “You call yourself an occult researcher.”

“Well it’s not a real job on the books but,” she said, “I’ve spent years collecting records people pretend don’t exist. Old manuscripts, church scraps, even police reports that got buried. About vampires, demons, the lot of them.“

Vampires? I’d heard of them from Haneul’s stories, but I didn’t think they’d still be around. And demons were a whole other set of problems on their own.

“So do we have a deal?.”

Her words settled. Not gently.

I let my mind go back to yesterday night, my first night in the city of Los Angeles. I’d wandered streets that meant nothing to me, every sound foreign and every scent layered too thick to parse. And then it had cut through.

Not a body, not her. Just a trace. A thread of her presence. It was slightly off, but it was hers all the same.

That was how I knew. Specter had given us a name to follow, Malice. But I didn’t need the word to recognize the truth. Someone in this city had her.

“You expect us to gamble on your nose,” Aki snapped, cutting me from the memory.

“You’re already gambling on less,” I said. Even after a year of digging, they didn’t seem to be getting anywhere near Malice. A little disappointing.

Her jaw clenched. Haru spoke before she could answer.

“Our friend Vinnie,” Haru said quietly. “They have him.”

Makoto didn’t turn his head, but his eyes flicked to him.

“Help us,” Haru said. His gaze returned to me. “We’re not leaving this city until we have him.”

For the first time that night I saw a fire lit behind his weak gaze. And it wasn’t just him. All three of them shared the same look.

Aki exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Makoto, what’s the call? We working with them?”

Shelby stepped forward, her tone sharp. “Worst case, this doesn’t work and you’re exactly where you started, nowhere. Best case? You finally have something real.”

Makoto’s stare returned to me. “You said you smelled this… Haneul.”

“Yes.”

“Describe the smell.”

I let the silence stretch, then answered. “Like air before a storm, but sweeter.”

Aki’s lips parted, but no words came.

Makoto’s face didn’t shift, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “And you can find it again?”

“Yes,” I said. “If it’s here, I’ll find it.”

Makoto leaned back slightly, his fingers drumming once against the table. It was the first sound he’d made since setting the pen down. The room seemed to hold its breath with him.

“You’re asking us to risk the whole operation by letting you in,” he said at last. “A stranger. A thing we don’t understand. You’ll forgive me for not being eager.”

“I’m not asking,” I said. “I’m telling you what it takes. We can't find Malice on our own, we don't know where to look. And you haven’t had any luck finding them without us.”

The words dropped heavy. Aki’s eyes flared, ready to spit fire. But Haru spoke instead.

“Makoto,” he said softly. “We’ve got nothing else.”

Aki turned on him. “You’d trust him?”

“I’d make a deal with the devil if it meant we get Vinnie back,” Haru said.

Ironic.

Shelby crossed her arms, leaning into the tension. “You don’t have to like us. You just have to use us.”

Makoto’s gaze returned to me. He studied me long enough that the bulb swayed twice, shadows crawling like nervous things across the walls. Finally, he nodded once.

“Tomorrow night, nine o’clock,” he said. “We’ll meet at Club Envy. It’s too conspicuous if we meet here. I also have to verify with Mr. Specter. That you’re who you say you are.”

Aki let out a breath and Haru lowered his gaze again, but his hands stayed braced on the sill.

“Fair enough,” I said as I turned to leave.

As we cut into the stairwell, Shelby waved at them. “We’ll see you then.”

And with that, I was one step closer to finding her.

No, maybe only half a step.

But I knew the next time I caught Haneul’s scent, I would follow it until the city burned.

Or until I did.