Oh man, it feels good to be back in the fandoms! I have taken a VERY long time between stories and writing. Life got crazy… I'm sure we can all relate.
Anyway, shoutout to IssiHerondale for flipping a coin that I would convert this into a TMI story instead of a TID story… You guys have her to thank.
Also, if there are any strange names or details in here that don't make sense, please point them out. This story is originally written with normal characters that I converted.
I hope you all enjoy! Read and review :)
I stared up at the massive Italian mansion before me, taking in the architecture of the house. People brushed passed me; women in gowns and fancy cocktail dresses, and men in personal tailored suits and tuxedos. Everyone dressed to the nines… including me. I wore a floor length navy blue dress, with a low back that exposed all but my tailbone. The front was a deep V-neck, with a sleek illusion over the cleavage. The dress accentuated my waist with a pretty and simple beaded waistline. It hugged me just enough to leave something to the imagination. The only things holding the dress onto my thin, lean body were two thick straps over my shoulders. I had on no jewelry so as to not give anyone something to recognize me by, and I wore a pair of black stilettos that had felt on the bottom to mask the noise.
In other words, it was the perfect outfit for a fashion show in Milan, Italy. There was enough skin shown, yet not enough to make me stand out.
I pulled the strap out of my purse and set it on my shoulder, strolling to the main entrance of the grand mansion. I waited in line to show my invitation and then smoothly glided into the show awaiting me. Anyone who looked at me, anyone with an untrained eye, would think I was just another guest to this fashion show, but I was much more than that. In reality, I was going to be the downfall of the show. I just had to find my in.
I entered on a deep purple carpet that stretched from the mansion's front steps to the top of the grand marble staircase in the middle of the extremely large foyer. Above me was an intricate chandelier, complete with swooping and elegant droplets of crystals. I eyed it, speculating what I could do with it, before moving on. That could be too dangerous for the other guests.
I moved on from the main room, to a room behind the staircase. This is where the fashion show took place. It was crowded and dark, with strobe lights and confetti consistently falling. The music was loud and vibrated the floor beneath my heels. There was a large runway set up in the middle of the room. I walked down the three steps that took me to the pit right next to the runway, but it seemed that the fashion show wasn't to start for another hour.
I turned and decided to scope out other areas of the mansion that I was allowed to go to… not like the boundaries would stop me.
I strolled into the next room over, which was nearly empty. It was a large hallway that had its own exit outside into the gardens. There were a few people standing in front of a display that advertised the fashion show. A few famous models—one a female local who people thought of as a hero, the other a well-known American—were on large poster boards propped up against the walls. There was a couple standing in front of it, talking about the models and what the fashion show would be like.
"Ho sentito Kaelie Whitewillow è qui! Lei è davvero nella sfilata di moda," the girl said excitedly. Translated, it meant: "I heard Kaelie Whitewillow is here! She really is in the fashion show!"
Yes, I was fluent in Italian. And English. And German, French, Spanish, Russian, Greek, Irish, Icelandic, and Latin. My expansive knowledge of ten languages put me ahead of most people, and could make me an asset to any team in the whole world.
Too bad I was a freelancing Shadowhunter (also known as hitmen and hitwomen), not signed by any company or agency. I did my own work, and was sought by specific people. I had earned my own reputation internationally by my exceptional work and inability to get caught.
As I continued to listen in on the conversation, I began to notice that the couple was giving me strange looks. They were looking back and forth between the poster board of Kaelie Whitewillow and myself. I glanced at the poster board and could see why: she and I had a striking resemblance in physical features. She had the same bright red hair, curly, long, and layered like mine, though almost surely it was dyed, and striking green eyes… which were clearly contacts. Her pale skin and defined cheekbones were scarily similar to mine, and she also had a pointed chin. I simply flashed a smile at the couple and then nonchalantly turned away. I noticed a man in a very nice tuxedo—shiny black suit jacket and pants, white shirt, and a silver tie and vest—standing in the middle of the hallway, also looking at the poster boards, and uncomfortably pulling on his collar. He had short gold-blonde hair, gold eyes to match, and a strong jaw. For someone who was supposed to blend in, his physical features did the exact opposite. With that face, it was hard to believe he was hired at all.
Now, as I mentioned before, to an untrained eye, he would have looked like a normal man who was dragged to this occasion, or was forced to attend for whatever reason. He clearly wasn't comfortable in a tuxedo, or perhaps that was part of his disguise.
However, since I was trained, I knew exactly what kind of person he was as soon as I laid eyes on him.
Now, many people knew that Camille Belcourt and her partner—and rumored boyfriend—Raphael Santiago ran an illegal jewel embezzlement company. In fact, one might even go to say that hundreds of thousands of people knew about it.
Needless to say, a lot of people wanted the two of them gone. Arrested, killed, however you want to say it. Now, people like me, Shadowhunters, hitwomen, hitmen—assassins, if you will—are hired to get rid of people like Camille and Raphael. And that's exactly why I was here tonight.
So, as someone who lived this life every day, I could easily spot someone who lived a similar lifestyle. And that man, ladies and gentlemen, was a Shadowhunter. I wanted him gone. I could not let him screw this job up for me. If he interfered, well, my reputation may be ruined.
I squared my shoulders and walked right up to him. Judging by his fidgety manner, it was easy to tell he was American. "Excuse me, sir, but may I ask who you are?" I asked, feigning my best American accent.
The man trained his eyes on me. Could he tell who I was? "I don't see why it's any of your business."
I scowled before another idea bloomed in my head. I smiled and lapsed into an Italian accent. "I'm Kaelie Whitewillow. Are you here for the fashion show or the auction?"
The man smirked. "Come on, you expect me to actually believe you're Kaelie Whitewillow? The average person would certainly believe you, but me? I was thinking exactly what you were thinking before you came over here."
I narrowed my eyes at him and stepped closer, until our faces were mere inches apart. "Look, I don't know who you are or who hired you, but this is my job," I hissed, keeping my Italian accent firmly in place. If there was one thing I learned over the years, it's that you never leave someone with any clue to who you are. That includes any accent.
He chuckled. "That's cute of you to try to get rid of me, but I'm already here, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go do my job."
I grabbed his forearm to stop him. I had to know. "Did Ragnor Fell hire you?" I hissed. He was the man who employed me for this job. I had done a few jobs for him before, but I feared that he may not think I was capable of this job.
The man's brows furrowed. Looking at him more closely, he couldn't have been much older than me. "No, the Idris Shadowhunter Target Elimination Agency hired me."
My jaw dropped. "You're with IS-TEA?" I whisper-shouted.
He smirked again, and I was tempted to smack him. He leaned close to my ear, as if to kiss my cheek like the Italians would, and quietly said, "Surprise." Then he turned and strolled away.
My jaw tightened. I had to beat him to this. Then this could spread my name to IS-TEA, the largest contract agency in the world. If I could impress IS-TEA, then my name would be even more out there.
I glanced once more at the poster board with the model on it and made my decision. I had to find Kaelie Whitewillow.
Nearly thirty minutes later, I had located Kaelie Whitewillow. I had taken to hanging out right outside the makeup and dressing area, which was in a large ballroom. I had spotted her mingling with a few other models. She had already gotten her makeup done, but I could probably play it off. She finally walked through the large French doors in the ballroom that led out to the large pool, lawn, and gardens.
I turned and walked out a set of side doors to keep eyes on her. I spotted a technician crew working in a logistics trailer, but figured I wasn't allowed to be there, so I ducked behind some hedges and followed Kaelie. On the ground near a technician's station was a wrench. I quickly plucked it up off the ground and continued on Kaelie's trail. She looked around before stopping in a secluded area, with tall hedges all around her. She put her phone to her ear.
"Camille, it's Kaelie," she murmured in English, her eyes flicked to the canal on her right. "Catarina tells me you wanted to see me?" She paused, listening to whatever Camille had to say. "Alright, I will see you soon, then."
I leaped forward right as she hung up, tossing the wrench with just enough force to knock her out for a few hours. It hit the back of her head, and she crumpled to the ground. I quickly checked my surroundings to make sure I was clear. When I saw that I was, I quickly pulled her clothes off of her, stripped, and changed into her clothes. Then I dragged her body and put it between hedges and a cement railing that separated us from the canal.
I stood up and began strolling back to the mansion, plucking her phone up from the ground as I did so. Her wine colored dress brushed my ankles as I walked, the straps intentionally hanging off my shoulders. The dress was a bit tight and showed more cleavage than I was comfortable with, but it would have to do. As I walked, I summoned some tears and smudged my makeup. There. That should do it.
A stylist spotted me as soon as I walked through the doors, horrified. "Kaelie, my dear, what have you done?" he cried. In Italian, of course.
I responded in the language. "Oh, you know how Camille is," I said, hoping I didn't blow my cover.
His face fell. "My God, again? Come sit, I will fix your make-up."
I let him primp me until I looked just as the real Kaelie did before I attacked her. My rich red hair was no longer curled, but pulled into a severe bun at the crown of my head, and my eyes were a much darker green than before due to the dark make-up. When he was done, I thanked him and walked away, about to call Camille on Kaelie's phone, when another stylist pulled me aside.
"My my, Kaelie, why are you not changed yet? Get into the dressing room! You're on in ten!" she hissed before whirling away.
I sighed but did as I was told, changing into an extravagant navy gown with gems decorating the bodice. It was a strapless dress; exactly the kind of dress I hated. It had an ombré effect, too. The gems covered the entire top half of me and then gradually faded into a rich navy color, not unlike the one I was wearing earlier. The dress was very heavy, and no doubt the gems were real.
A thought flickered in my mind. So this was how they were smuggling gems into different countries!
Within the vicinities of the dressing room, I called up Camille. "Camille, I go on stage in a couple of minutes. But I forgot where we are supposed to meet," I said, imitating Kaelie's soft lilting voice as I did so.
An exasperated sigh came from the other end. "Damn it, Kaelie. Go to the second floor. It's a guest suite." She hung up.
I huffed and shuffled out of the dressing room, standing still as a stylist laced up the back of the dress. All of a sudden, I was being ushered back stage and into a line of models… except I was the last one. I realized then that I actually had to go on stage… in front of thousands of people. I did my best not to panic.
If I could kill someone without thinking twice, surely I could walk down a runway?
I took a deep breath as my turn came, closely watching what the other models did. As I stepped out on the runway, I froze. The lights were blinding, and the music was blaring. People were howling and whistling and clapping, and suddenly, still at the back of the runway, I saw someone…
That man. The guy who was trying to take my job. He was standing at the edge of the room, clearly trying not to laugh.
I fought the urge to grind my teeth and started strutting forward. The dress was heavy and felt like it was weighing me down, but I kept going until the end of the runway, where I stopped and did a few poses before turning around and walking back to the dressing room.
When I could finally catch my breath, I turned on my heels and started toward the main entrance so I could locate stairs. I thought the guards would stop me, but instead they just nodded and motioned me up to the second floor. At the top of the stairs, I took a random guess at which direction the guest room was. I went through a set of double doors and found myself standing on a balcony that overlooked the fashion show. There were several of these extended balconies around the second floor.
I walked out and turned left, through another set of large double doors. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw a bodyguard standing in front of a large oak door with a heavy-looking brass knocker and knob. I confidently strode up to him. He nodded and stepped aside.
"Miss Whitewillow," he said before opening the door.
"Thank you," I said, and walked into the room. I spotted Camille with her back to me, talking in hushed tones on the phone. Her hair was pulled up into a sleek ponytail, and she wore an elegant violet strapless cocktail dress. I patiently went and sat on one of the large, modern-looking couches in the center of the giant room.
Camille glanced over her shoulder and spotted me. She flashed a small smile and quickly hung up the phone. "Kaelie, my darling, you looked stunning on the runway."
I smiled smugly. My disguise was working and I was alone with her. "Thank you, Camille."
She sighed, smoothing down her dress as she sat on the couch in front of me. "Of course, your strides could have been much smoother. I realize the dress is heavy, but you certainly didn't have to make it look heavy. Models are supposed to walk as if it's effortless," she reprimanded, pinning me with a pointed glare.
I froze. Who did this woman think she was? "Excuse me?"
She laughed, her brown eyes twinkling. "My Kaelie, have you learned nothing from me?"
I clenched my teeth. How would the real Kaelie have reacted to this situation? I decided to play her game. "You are right, Camille. Next time."
She smiled at me, and then glanced at the dress. "It's beautiful, isn't it? The diamonds and crystals are priceless."
I looked down at myself. The diamonds really were beautiful. At that moment, Camille stood up. I started to search the room…
"Look, Kaelie, I called you up here because I wanted to offer you a chance to work for me. You know you're more than just a daughter to me, even if I am a tyrant sometimes."
My breathing stopped. Kaelie was Camille's daughter? "Sometimes I cannot tell with you," I said, as truthfully as I could muster. I was impersonating a model… whose mother I was about to kill. I never feel hesitant during a job, but how would Camille feel if her last thoughts were of her "daughter" trying to kill her?
"Your undercover job as a model has become more than a job to you. It's your career, and you're good at it. But you want you back here. I'll even introduce you to your father."
The brutal reality that this could be a confrontation between me and my parents broke me out of my tentative behavior. I waited until Camille turned her back again and crept up behind her. I placed a hand over her mouth, and snaked my other arm around her throat, squeezing tight. Camille struggled and clawed at my arm for a few seconds before she went limp in my arms.
I gently laid her down, as to not alert any guards, and searched the room. I could hide her in an armoire, leave her on the floor, or…
I dragged her body over to an open door that led into a bathroom. There was a shower in here. I laid her down in the tub and turned the water on quietly, then crept out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I nodded once again at the guard, and began to descend the stairs, when suddenly a blaring alarm sounded through the air.
My first thought was that Camille's body had been found and I was going to have to make a run for it. Upon closer inspection, I could see that guards were ushering guests down the stairs. It was an evacuation, and I was caught in the middle of it.
"Miss Whitewillow, Camille has requested that if an evacuation were to occur while you were in uniform that you be privately escorted back to the dressing room to remove the auctioned item," one of the guards said as he approached me.
Caught off guard, I nodded and followed him down a set of already-evacuated stairs. Two more guards fell into place behind me. In moments, I was back in the dressing room and the same stylist who put me in the dress earlier swept me away from the guards.
"Kaelie, you need to change quickly. We could all be in danger," she said hurriedly, untying the dress and half-shoving me into the dressing room.
I let the dress pool around my legs and changed into the red one I wore earlier. I peeked my head out and saw the stylist busy with another model, so I booked it out of there and made a beeline to the doors. I had to change back into my dress and escape as quickly as possible.
Just as I was passing the room I had hid in earlier to keep tabs on Kaelie, I saw a familiar face from the top of a set of stairs in the next room over.
It was the other Shadowhunter!
He made eye contact with me and winked, then trained his eyes on someone. I followed his gaze and my eyes widened. It was Raphael Santiago! Dressed so no one could miss him in a red suit and a white shirt with small black polka dots, unbuttoned at the collar. Completely Italian. Black hair slicked back, slight stubble decorating his jaw, and a pompous smile to match his strut.
He was so close to me, maybe twenty feet away, and I could kill him myself… but that would mean compromising myself and my cover.
Before I could think anymore, Raphael collapsed to the ground. People screamed and jumped away from him. I froze and shifted my gaze to where that man was standing, except he was no longer standing there. He had disappeared, much like I should have done moments before.
Without stopping to see what would happen, I raced toward the doors and to where I left Kaelie's body. Miraculously, she was still passed out. I squatted behind the hedges and stripped from her too-tight dress and yanked my dress back on. I took my hair out of its bun to reduce the chance of someone recognizing me, and nonchalantly strolled away from the beautiful Italian mansion that should have held a very illegal auction for some very priceless gems, disguised very cleverly on beautiful gowns.
I hope you guys like what you read! There will be more to come. Because if anyone knows me you'll know that I would rather write than I would do homework, haha. Please review this so I know any questions and all comments and thoughts!
Also, you may know me from Better Than Thyself, Miss Demeanor, The Fighter, etc. Those are all sort of in the making right now! If you want to know what those are, go to my profile and read them. I hope you like everything.
Until next time!
XO,
Caitlyn
