By day, the Ibisz Cafe was a subdued shadow of what it became by night. Its day facade was an intellectual haven, a warm, studious ambiance for posers and scholars alike, but, as the clock neared 11:23 PM, it underwent a metamorphosis: the comforting warmth was replaced by a cold electric buzz, fluorescent affluence and designer drugs. Neon tubes replaced warm bulbs, and the silent symphony of thoughts gave way to discordant techno-classical tracks. Iris almost surgically concocted intoxicants for the sharply dressed, with an obsessive precision for a crowd that embodied trust-fund extravagance. Bel, the archivist, wasn't one to stay past hours, but today was different. As 11:23 PM hit, she glanced at a patron’s smartphone and watched as the date rewound from 2023 to 2018.

As the rising tide of suits, jewellery, and whispered status filled the room, Bel saw Kailey by the faux-leather seats, surrounded by mirrors and suitors.

"Care for a drink?" It sounded more like a command than a question. Kailey's laugh, sharp and sudden, was silenced. She scanned Bel, from her auburn hair to her loafers. Bel spoke again.

"Vodka Redbull, chilled. That's your poison, isn't it?" Kailey shifted, as a panther might, eyeing her prey. "Observant," she purred, the tilt of her empty glass a challenge. She moved her hips, then her shoulders, towards the intruder. "Fetch."

As Bel approached with the offering, Kailey scooted to the side and tapped the now empty seat next to hers. The atmosphere thickened as Kailey, snake-like, leaned in. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, roamed over Bel. "You've studied well," she whispered, her demand evident in her poised glass. Bel took a sip, and the laughter that followed had an echo of cruelty. "Alright, you do seem to know me," Kailey murmured, her voice a blend of menace and mirth. "Show me."

"You're Kailey Azize," began Bel, infusing her voice with a nonchalance she didn't feel. "With 'Wolf', right?"

With an annoyed wave, Kailey scattered the horde of men that surrounded her, much like pigeons in their monochromatic outfits.

"I *am* Wolf!" she hissed. Bel shook her head. "You've been doing your own thing. I don't think wolves like *crows* very much."

Her laughter, pointed and calculating, froze time. The predatory way she sized up Bel was palpable.

"They do! Wolves kill big prey for crows to feast on the offal."

"On the carrion," Bel gently corrected her. "You're playing a dangerous game, distancing yourself from them. You're alienating some very powerful... individuals."

Kailey's reply was a low, venomous whisper. "They've given me no choice." Her manicured fingers circled the air. "Look around, honey. The Wolves? Not a single one in sight. Except for that bartender, Iris, mixing her cocktails like they're going out of style. And Sam? His idea of fun? It's tedious at best..." she trailed off, before catching herself. "But tonight, the hunter's a no-show." She sighed, bringing the glass to her crimson lips, moreso to punctuate the silence than to quench her thirst. The tension grew stronger, their surroundings almost muffled by the electricity that flowed from Kailey's gaze to Bel's clenched fists.

"I had a question about this." Bel reached for her back pocket, then slid a polaroid towards Kailey. "Have you seen this man?"

Kailey's brow furrowed in recognition, then looked up at Bel again. "Maybe, but tell me more about him. He looks -" she leaned towards the picture "- cute... in this pic'."

"His name is Dorian, but he's known around these parts as Khronos," Bel gravely stated, pressing her back against the cushions. "There's another picture of him wielding a scythe. He wears an 'oni' mask in most of his outings. I'm trying to figure out if-"

"A scythe?" Kailey clapped twice, then pointed behind Bel. "I knew I saw his mug somewhere. Is that him in this painting, with the wings?"

Bel pivoted slowly, in nauseating dread, only to confirm the unsettling reality of what she was seeing. "That's him, all right. That painting was not here before."

The painting in question depicted a scene straight out of some Renaissance interpretation of the garden of Gethsemane. Three angels were under a massive olive tree, except the angelic figure in the center bore an unnerving resemblance to Dorian. He held a scythe, his wings spread wide, casting a shadow over the other celestial beings.

As Bel turned around, Kailey was now handing her a book. Its black cover looked iridescent under the neon lights, and its bloodlike edges made it look like a grimoire. Kailey gave her a smirk.

"This will be of use to you..." She set the book down and leaned towards Bel, then, with the predatory grace of a runway model, moved one hand to the stunned archivist's chest, tugging at the buttons of her linen shirt. "You never gave me your name."

But the archivist rose with the book, leaving Kailey looking like a disgruntled cat moreso than a panther with a frustrated snarl curling her lip. "It's getting late."

"Oh, come on!"

"Thank you for the book." As Bel made her way to the bar, wallet in hand, Kailey chased after her, her heels clicking angrily on the marble floor as she trailed Bel.

"Ugh- wait! Will I see you again?"

Stopping, Bel turned and gently grasped Kailey's hand, her lips briefly touching it. "Time will tell, sweet Crow."

As Bel disappeared in the crowd of suits and leather, Kailey looked at her hand, now adorned with a silver ring. In its centre, a ruby was lifted on four prongs. With a satisfied smile, Kailey plucked a Marlboro cigarette from a stranger's pack, and almost instantly, multiple Zippos appeared, offering her a light.