18: The Eyes in the House

The next afternoon, the grand foyer of the Sterling mansion felt… theatrical. Susan Sterling, dressed in an elegant cream-colored dress, fluttered about with a nervous energy, ensuring the lighting was soft and the ambient music was set to a soothing chime. She was a woman clinging to any semblance of control after the traumatic “gas explosion,” and today, that control came in the form of a man who called himself Master Valerius.

When he arrived, Valerius was everything one would expect from a high-end spiritual guru. He was tall and slender, with silvering hair tied back in a neat ponytail and eyes of a startlingly pale blue. He wore a flowing, dark silk robe embroidered with subtle silver symbols that seemed to shift in the light. He carried a polished wooden box and exuded an aura of serene, ancient wisdom. It was a masterful performance.

Jack and Catherine stood on the mezzanine overlooking the foyer, watching the scene unfold. To Susan, Valerius was a savior. To them, he was a viper being welcomed into the nest.

“He’s good,” Catherine murmured, her arms crossed tightly. “Look at my mother. She’s hanging on his every word.”

“He smells wrong,” Jack said, his voice a low growl. It wasn't just a figure of speech. To his heightened senses, underneath the cloying scent of sandalwood incense that clung to Valerius’s robes, there was a faint, sharp odor. It was metallic and bitter, almost like burnt almonds. It was a scent that put every nerve in his body on high alert. “He’s carrying something. Something not of this world.”

Down below, Valerius was beginning his “assessment.” He pulled a device from his box—it looked like an ornate, brass compass, but instead of north and south, it was marked with arcane symbols. He held it aloft, sweeping it slowly around the room.

“The energy in this home is deeply disturbed,” he proclaimed, his voice resonating with a carefully practiced gravitas. “There is a lingering shadow… a vortex of negativity, born from the recent trauma. It has settled in one particular area, poisoning the very heart of the house.”

He began to walk, the compass needle quivering dramatically in his hand as he moved through the ground floor. Susan followed him, her expression a mixture of fear and awe.

From his vantage point, Jack’s golden eyes narrowed. He focused on the compass, his vision piercing through the mundane. He saw it not as a solid object, but as a collection of intricate parts. And hidden within the brass casing, nestled among the gears and magnets, was something else entirely. A tiny, sophisticated piece of modern technology. A micro-transmitter, pulsing with a frequency so high it was undetectable by any normal means. But Jack could feel it, a faint thrum against his senses, like an insect buzzing just beyond the range of human hearing.

Valerius ascended the grand staircase, his movements slow and deliberate. The compass in his hand seemed to pull him inexorably towards the second floor, down the hall, directly towards Jack’s own room.

“It is here,” Valerius declared, stopping before Jack’s door. “The concentration of negative energy is strongest here. This room is the source.”

Susan gasped. “My son-in-law’s room? But… why?”

“Often,” Valerius said smoothly, “a place of great strength can also attract great darkness. We must purify it immediately.”

This was the trap. Jack understood Kael’s plan in an instant. This charlatan wasn’t just a spy. He was here to plant a device, a mystical-looking tracker or suppressor that would make Jack vulnerable within his own sanctuary. It would turn his home into a cage, with Kael holding the key.

Jack and Catherine exchanged a look. It was time to intervene.

They descended the stairs, their footsteps echoing in the suddenly silent hall. Jack adopted an air of polite curiosity, while Catherine’s face was a mask of cool neutrality.

“Master Valerius,” Catherine said, her voice smooth as silk. “I hope my mother isn’t troubling you too much. We appreciate you coming on such short notice.”

Valerius turned, a serene smile gracing his lips. “Not at all, Ms. Sterling. It is my duty to restore harmony. Your home is in great peril, but fear not, for I shall cleanse it.”

“Fascinating,” Jack said, stepping forward. He gestured towards the various pouches and tools hanging from the man’s belt. “I’ve always been interested in these ancient arts. What are these powders for?”

Before Valerius could answer, Jack’s hand moved with deceptive speed. It was a perfectly executed feint. His left hand reached for a small pouch, drawing the man’s attention, while his right hand, holding a glass of water he’d picked up from a side table, “accidentally” stumbled.

Water sloshed from the glass, drenching the hem of Valerius’s expensive silk robe and splashing onto his shoes.

“Oh, clumsy me!” Jack exclaimed, his face a perfect picture of apologetic concern. “I am so sorry, Master. Let me help you with that.”

As Valerius sputtered in indignation, Jack knelt down, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. Under the guise of dabbing at the man’s soaked robe, his movements were a blur of calculated precision. With one hand, he pressed a tiny, button-sized listening device—one of Elara’s toys—under the heel of the man’s shoe. With the other, he used a sleight-of-hand maneuver learned from a system skill he’d acquired,【Sleight of Hand】, to deftly pluck the micro-transmitter from its concealed slot in the brass compass, replacing it with a small, inert metal disc of the same weight. The entire exchange took less than three seconds.

He could now smell the powder on the robe up close. The scent was stronger, sharper. Silver nitrate. Not enough to seriously harm a werewolf in this quantity, but more than enough to irritate his senses, to act as a beacon. The compass was designed to react to it, a parlor trick to legitimize his “powers.”

“There,” Jack said, standing up with a smile. “No harm done, I hope.”

Valerius, though visibly annoyed at the damage to his attire, quickly regained his composure. “It is of no consequence. The spiritual work is what matters.” He turned back to Jack’s room, holding up the now-useless compass. But this time, the needle didn’t point. It spun aimlessly.

Valerius stared at it, his eyes widening in confusion. He shook it discreetly. Nothing. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. The serene mask was beginning to crack.

“It seems…” he stammered, “the negative energy is… fluctuating. It is fighting back.”

“Or maybe,” Jack said, his voice dropping its friendly tone, becoming as cold and hard as winter steel, “the batteries in your little toy ran out.”

He held up his hand. Resting in his palm was the tiny micro-transmitter.

Valerius’s face went white. The color drained from his cheeks, leaving behind a pasty, terrified grey. The charade was over.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he blustered, but his voice trembled.

“Don’t you?” Catherine said, stepping forward. She held up her phone, her expression one of utter contempt. “Perhaps this will refresh your memory.”

She pressed a button. A voice, tinny but clear, filled the hallway. It was Valerius’s voice, recorded by the bug on his shoe just minutes earlier when he thought he was alone in the driveway.

“…Yes, I’m inside,” the recording of Valerius said. “The old woman bought it completely. I’m heading for the target’s room now. I’ll plant the Lunar Beacon. Once it’s active, Kael will be able to track his every move, and the beacon’s frequency will dampen his healing. He’ll be a sitting duck in his own home.”

Susan Sterling let out a horrified, strangled gasp. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with betrayal and humiliation. The man she had trusted, had welcomed into her home, was not only a fraud but a conspirator in a plot against her family.

“You… you liar!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. The fear and stress of the past few days erupted in a wave of pure, unadulterated fury. Her eyes darted around, looking for something, anything, to throw. Her gaze landed on a large, amethyst crystal geode sitting on a pedestal—a ridiculously expensive item Valerius himself had sold her last month, promising it would “absorb negative vibrations.”

With a cry of rage, Susan snatched the ten-pound crystal from its stand. “You told me this would bring me peace!” she screamed.

Valerius, seeing the look in her eyes, turned to flee. He didn’t get two steps.

With surprising strength, Susan hefted the amethyst geode and hurled it. It flew through the air in a glittering purple arc and struck the fleeing “master” squarely in the back of the head with a sickening thud. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, landing in an ignominious heap at the bottom of the stairs, a trickle of very real, very negative blood running from his scalp.

The foyer was silent, save for Susan’s heavy breathing. She stood there, chest heaving, clutching a throw pillow she had apparently grabbed next, as if ready for a second volley. The absurdity of the situation—a high-society matriarch felling a supernatural spy with an overpriced piece of new-age decor—was not lost on Jack. It was a perfect, ridiculous end to a tense standoff.

Later, after Marcus had arrived to quietly remove the unconscious and now-gagged Valerius for interrogation, the three of them sat in the study. Susan was wrapped in a blanket, sipping a brandy, her face a mixture of shame and lingering anger.

“I was so foolish,” she whispered, staring into the fireplace. “I put you all in danger.”

Catherine went to her mother’s side, putting a comforting arm around her. “You were scared, Mom. He took advantage of that. It’s not your fault.”

Jack watched them, a flicker of warmth in his chest. But his mind was already on the information from the recording. Lunar Beacon. Dampen his healing. Kael wasn't just trying to watch him; he had weapons specifically designed to counter his kind.

After settling her mother down, Catherine joined Jack by the window. The grounds outside were peaceful, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun.

“This house… this family…” she said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “Without you here, Jack, we would have been devoured. We wouldn't even have seen the teeth.”

He turned to look at her. He could see the strain of the last few days etched around her eyes, but also a new strength, a new hardness. She was being forged in this fire, just as he was.

“You’re a part of this now, Catherine,” he said softly. “You’re a guardian of this house too.” He reached out, his hand gently covering hers where it rested on the windowsill. “And there are things you should know. Ways to see the world as I do.”

For the first time, he began to explain. Not the full truth of what he was, but the practicalities. He taught her how to spot the subtle tells of a supernatural being trying to pass as human—the slight shimmer in the air around them, the way their eyes don't quite reflect light properly, the unnatural stillness they can possess. He was giving her his eyes, sharing the burden of his perception. She listened, not with fear, but with an intense, focused curiosity, absorbing every word. The Queen was learning the rules of a new, more dangerous kingdom.

Hours later, Jack received a call from Marcus. The interrogation of Valerius was complete.

“He talked,” Marcus said, his voice grim. “He wasn't part of Kael’s inner circle, just a human on the payroll with some minor psychic talent for reading emotions, which made his con more effective. But he overheard things. Important things.”

“What things?” Jack asked.

“It’s about why Kael is so obsessed with the estate. It’s not just about territory,” Marcus explained. “There’s a legend, a story that circulates among the older werewolves in this region. They believe that the Sterling estate was built on sacred ground. And that buried deep beneath the foundation, somewhere in the bedrock, is a fragment of a ‘First Progenitor’s Bone’.”

Jack felt a jolt, a primal thrum of recognition at the words. The system had mentioned the First Progenitor’s legacy as his ultimate mission.

Marcus’s voice continued, low and serious. “According to the legend, the bone is a key. A catalyst. They say that whoever possesses it can unlock a power that has been dormant for millennia. Kael doesn't just want to kill you, Alpha. He wants to excavate your home. He believes there’s a god sleeping under your feet, and he wants to be the one to wake it up.”

The stakes had just changed. This was no longer a simple turf war. It was a race for an artifact of unimaginable power, and the finish line was located directly beneath his feet.