Notice: For those wondering where the rest vanished to, I'm editing right now and I don't want any contradicting chapters up. So, I shall reload each chapter as I complete edits. Some shall feature new content and others will be quicker than others. I shall release a chapter weekly to bi-weekly for the rest of the year. There shall be 34 chapters in all.
Also, if you're from DeviantArt, please see what I placed at the bottom of this chapter!
Warning: I have no issues portraying violence, having sexual elements, exploring various ethical themes, featuring homosexual characters or romances, and so on that can be considered sensitive topics.
Prologue: It Takes a Thief
No one, not even Cassidy herself, ever expected her to step foot into Vedan's branch of The Temple of Yewel. She preferred black-tie events, casinos, marinas, and the like far more. Nevertheless, she was there. She had to be there. One of her rules as a thief, of which there were many, was to give anything she stole to those it rightfully belonged.
She shared the small room with an even smaller crowd, all of whom failed to notice that they worked in the same vicinity as the empire's own phantom thief. They didn't even notice that she was Cassidy Cain, the heiress to the Cain fortune and future Chair of the Cain International conglomerate. Like any decent criminal, she understood the value of disguise; she shrouded her red hair with a long caramel wig, concealed her green eyes with brown contacts and thick glasses, and traded her tailor-made power suits for a long-sleeved tulip-pink top, denim jeans, and shell-white sneakers which hid her figure. She even brought along a fake ID, not that she needed it. She blended in so well that nobody took stock of her until the man she requested to speak with approached.
"Miss Athena Whitwick?" a robust voice asked.
Cassidy glanced up from her book to a lanky man with sepia-toned skin, a craggy oval face, a clipped mustache, and bald head. Then she assessed the simple yet well-kept robe he clothed himself in. Finally, she thought as her muscles loosened. Finally, she had contacted her asset. Finally, she could conclude the job.
She rose from the pew in which she sat then bowed her head. "Good day to you, Mister…?"
"Gerard Turner," he answered, as she knew he would – she had studied him well before entering the church. "It is a blessing to meet you. How may The Followers be of service to you?"
"Actually, I'd prefer to assist you today." She drew out a baby-blue cloth which blanketed something large from her saddlebag. Her slender fingers gracefully untied it to unveil a tear-shaped diamond necklace.
Gerard's brows sprung up. "It can't be! Can it!?"
"It can and it is." She held the pendant out to him. "I return Adora's Tear to your people."
"I… but… h-how did you get this?!"
"It's a family heirloom," she lied. "I recently learned what it really is thanks to that whole mess with The Grandmaster of Theft and Narcissa Richmond. I've no idea how my family got it, but whatever. It belongs here."
Gerard gawked at the pendant for a moment before he shook his head. "We'll have to get it verified to prove it is the real thing. If it is, there's a five hundred thousand crown reward–"
She pushed the pendant into his hand. Her whole face spread into a smile. "I don't care about the money. Righting an injustice is a reward in and of itself."
His mouth dropped open. Then his eyes flew down to the pendant and he clinched it. "Thank you…" He returned her smile. "You know, people like you make me confident that humanity will eventually reach Yewel's dream."
Cassidy bit her lip, averted her eyes from his, and then said with a flat voice, "You're too kind."
Gerard's brows knitted. "Is something the matter?"
"No," she said before she reeled around towards the arched door. She began to step away, but Gerard lightly gripped her shoulder.
"If there's something you've done or plan to do which troubles you," he said, his voice warm, "the church is here for you."
"…Is it true that if there's something that someone wishes to get off their chest, The Followers promise absolute confidentiality about anything shared?"
"We won't betray your secrets. And I'm happy to lend my ear."
"I…" She dropped her head and sighed. "I'm really, really, really sorry, but can I have a moment?"
"Take all the time you need."
Cassidy crumbled back into the pew, clasped her hands around her head, and stared at the tiles. The clicks and clacks of the church's clock tower counted the minute in which she sat in that position. Then she poked up her head and said, "There is something I'd like to discuss, but is it alright if we do this elsewhere? In a few days from now?"
"Sure. But we'll need to register the meeting in our system and do a background check first. It's a safety measure. Are you okay with that?"
"Yes, that's no problem at all."
She acquired a piece of paper from a nearby table, jotted down a number, and handed it over. "Contact me when you're ready."
Cassidy left the building with her head held high. Everything had proceeded according to plan.
Three days passed after Athena exited the church, during which Gerard turned over Adora's Tear to their high priest. Their high priest contacted their HQ, who confirmed its authenticity then whisked it off to their main temple. After that, the church hired an outside service to inspect Athena Whitwick. She passed every test.
Gerard contacted her without any worries and they made a deal to meet at Acquiro's lounge bar Maleperduis. When the night came, Gerard pulled on dark blue jeans, buttoned up a light blue checkered shirt, laced up his boots, and drove his truck to the city.
Once Gerard pushed open the heavy door to the bar, a storm of babble struck his ears while colognes, spices, and beer assaulted his nostrils. A crowd of people packed the building; some huddled around the counter – where an attractive male bartender performed stunts – while others dined in front of the televisions mounted on the wall. Gerard traversed between the occupied booths, skimming each for Athena. She waited in none.
"Gerard Turner?" an aloof voice asked.
He spun around to a suit-clad man who bore light bronze skin, gray eyes, and crow-black hair which he had combed back. A pair of aviator sunglasses atop his forehead capped off his appearance.
Gerard squinted upon witnessing the man. Aside from his face appearing as smooth as marble, the man revealed nothing about himself. He wasn't particularly tall or short, muscular or thin, handsome or hideous. He just existed. Or at least, he existed as much as such an indiscernible man could exist.
"Gerard Turner?" the man repeated.
"Um, yes I am, sorry. And you are?"
"Here to escort you. Miss Athena is waiting in the VIP room." The man pointed towards a carpeted stairway. "You first."
With the black-suited man shadowing, Gerard hiked up the stairs. He cast a glance and forced a smile back partway through, but not a flicker of emotion surfaced on the man's face. His eyes exhibited nothing but a mechanical focus.
Upon reaching the hallway at the top, the suited man clutched onto Gerard's shoulder and said, "Wait." He passed by Gerard and positioned himself in front of the crimson padded double door which resided at the end of the corridor. "Athena has two requests before you enter. First, turn off your phone and leave it with me. You'll get it back when this is over. Second, you let me check you with this for any bugs."
His hand vanished into his jacket pocket before reappearing with a chrome block. He extended an antenna from the top of the device.
"Uh, if you don't mind me asking, why all the secrecy?" Gerard asked. "Her background check didn't say anything about all this."
"She'll explain everything inside. If you get inside. I can't let you pass until this is taken care of. It's your call if you go any further or not."
Gerard peeked back at the stairs. Would anybody blame him for backing out? None of this was a part of what they agreed on nor was it too late to turn back. Then again, he had given his word. And she had given them Adora's Tear, free. And even if she hadn't, she had asked for help. What kind of priest, let alone person, would he be if he turned away?
"That's fine." Gerard removed his cellphone from his pocket. "Do what you must."
The man collected the phone, ran the device up his body from toe to head, and then studied the results. "Alright, you can enter," he decided. "Just don't try anything."
With those parting words, the man stepped to the side, out of the walkway. Gerard trudged to the door, pushed it open, and crossed the threshold.
Silence and the sweet fragrance of strawberries replaced the blather and odors of below. Bright lights showered down from the ceiling to reveal a spacious room with a coral carpet, crown-gold walls, and framed silver television monitors which transitioned between various artworks, none of which he recognized.
The projected paintings weren't the only thing he didn't recognize. He also couldn't recognize the lady who lounged opposite the entrance in one of the beige club chairs that furnished the room.
She was as much a work as the paintings: she possessed clear creamy skin; a well-formed bosom; a diamond-shaped face; longbow lips; a long, straight nose; cat-like jade eyes; and lush ruby-red locks, which she had fashioned in a princess cut, that flowed over her slender shoulders and down her back.
Like her ally, she boasted a panther-black suit, hers showcasing a choker necklace, long-sleeved jacket, knee-length skirt, stockings, and heels. The sole articles of her presentation which weren't black were her swan-white blouse, cherry-red tie, and her lips and trimmed fingernails which she had painted a light shade of pink. The ensemble melded with her svelte figure as well as two interlocking puzzle pieces would one another.
"Good evening, Mister Turner," she said, her voice smooth and articulate. "I offer my sincerest apologies for the cloak and dagger routine. My circumstances force me to tread with caution. May I interest you in a drink? I can conjure up whatever concoction you desire, so long as it's non-alcoholic."
"You're… not Athena Whitwick…" he observed. She had a grace about her now. She sat with perfect posture, one leg crossed over the other, her hands folded on her lap. She wore a smile that could disarm an army.
"I am, depending on how you perceive things. Athena Whitwick is one of the guises I assume whenever I've fieldwork which requires anonymity."
"Then who are you really? And what do you want?"
She tilted her head and propped her chin on her palm. "You don't already know? Curious…" A tiny grin bent her lips. "Well, I suppose that has its benefits as well. At any rate, I am Cassidy Cain, heiress to the Cain fortune and all which lies within its reach."
Gerard's eyes bugged.
"As for what I seek," she added, "I've been forthright from the onset. I wish to speak with you in private and the church failed at offering me the same solace as this bar. Would you please take a seat?"
She beckoned Gerard in, but he remained still, his legs having locked up. His mind raced with all he had heard of her.
Socialite, high-stakes gambler, globe trotter, philanthropist – those words and more described her and the ventures she took part in. The fact that she was Cassidy Cain answered how she came to own Adora's Tear and why she didn't want the money. Of course, with that answer, came more questions.
"W-why did you need to disguise yourself?" he forced out.
"Anonymity, as I stated twenty seconds ago."
"But why? What's so different about this?"
A hand shoved against Gerard's back, thrusting him in. Gerard stumbled forward, caught himself, and then twisted around to spot the black-suited man drawing the double doors shut. They came together with a click.
Cassidy sighed. "I apologize, he can be… protective."
Gerard directed his eyes back to Cassidy, who pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Well, I pay him for his protection, so I suppose I shouldn't complain. Regardless, the seat is still on the table, so to speak." She gestured towards the armchair across from her. "I assure you it's more comfortable than standing in the doorway."
Gerard swallowed hard. She's no different from anybody else. He advanced into the room and eased into the seat. Its soft cushion absorbed him the second he touched it.
"See?" she asked, her voice honey. "I told you so."
"Y-yes, you did," he said as his back sank in. "So, uh, before we begin, is there anything you prefer I call you?"
"Seeing as my name is Cassidy, I believe that should suffice." She leaned in closer. Her lips edged into a smirk. Her voice sank to a whisper. "Or perhaps you can call me The Grandmaster of Theft. It's no less valid."
Gerard's mouth gaped and he did a double take. "Y-y-you're kidding, right? I mean, you're…you're still just a kid!"
She snickered as she melted back into the cushion. "I am by no means a child. In fact, I turn twenty in two months."
"That's still young to be a thief like The Grandmaster. Or a thief at all."
"If we're to go by statistics, my criminality shouldn't come as a surprise. It's far more common with those my age than it is older sorts. That and of my social standing, what with the lack thereof repercussions. Regardless, if you don't believe me, answer me this: What do I have to gain from sharing that with you if I am not The Grandmaster of Theft? I'm a busy person as is."
Gerard took her in as if she was an abstract painting. Although everything she said made sense, it didn't add up. The Grandmaster wouldn't just up and admit that she's The Grandmaster. It wasn't a very thief-like thing to do. Or was it? It's not like he knew her or how she thought. And the confessional did protect her from any danger. "I don't think you're lying, but how? How can you possibly be a master thief?"
"Many thanks for calling me a master, though I cannot say for certain whether I qualify yet. Truth be told, The Grandmaster of Theft is merely a title I conceived as a means of psychological warfare. As the saying goes, reputation precedes."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"That is where you're mistaken. It answers part of the equation. People perceive me as a master criminal, which in turn enables me to perform in ways I otherwise might not. If there is one thing I've learned well, it's that perception is power."
Gerard nodded along, giving audience to her words.
"Of course," she continued, "that alone isn't the sole source of my success. I'm fortunate in ways that extend beyond my, well, fortune. For instance, the man who escorted you here is one of my accomplices. His name is Augustus Wynn. Should you ever speak with him again, please address him as Wynn and Wynn alone. He's not particularly fond of being referred to by his first name. Anyway, on the surface, he's my bodyguard and chauffeur. In the criminal underworld, there are a number of names for what he does: heavy, muscle, hitter, enforcer. You can select whichever you prefer. The task is ultimately the same."
Gerard's stomach turned and his toes curled. So he's a thug, he thought, but wouldn't voice. Although rumors said that The Grandmaster didn't harm innocents, better safe than sorry.
"But why do you do it?" he asked. "How…"
The shivered that slivered up his spine dissuaded him from asking how she could stomach to hurt people as she did.
Cassidy frowned. "How…?"
His heart hammered, harder and harder. He had to choose his words carefully. "I just don't understand how you can bring yourself to do this. Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should."
"Why are you a priest? Why did you join The Followers?"
"To help people, of course."
"Then we have that in common. I too wish to help others."
"But why must you be a criminal to do that?" he asked. "How does being a criminal help anyone? If you want to help people, there are other options out there. Especially for someone like you."
Her lips puckered for a second before her smile reemerged. "How familiar are you with The Osion Purge?"
His brows rocketed up at that mention. Then he diverted his eyes from her gaze. "I know all about it…"
"So I needn't elaborate on how your people's beliefs in the sanctity of human life came into conflict with King Gregory's mandatory military draft and all that resulted in?"
"No," he forced out from between clenched teeth.
"Are you certain? I conducted a great deal of research on The Decimation of The First Temple of Yewel not too long ago, so it's fresh in my memory. I can discuss how Gregory outlawed the worship of Yewel, how he had your people slaughtered, your temple ransacked, and how the survivors fled. I can likewise discuss the aftermath. Have you read The Exodus of Tai Emmons? That one, in particular, caught my–"
"Stop! I don't need to hear anymore…" The story left a sour taste in his mouth even when he told it.
Tai Emmons, a priestess, fled with all thirty of Adora's Tears and her family. However, smugglers forced her to give five of them then sold the jewels off for their own fortune.
"I won't disagree that there are other options available to me," Cassidy went on, unflustered. "However, the same sadly cannot be said for those I aid. Case in point, how well were your people fairing at retrieving Adora's Tear without me? How accommodating was the Imperial government?"
His throat tightened. Of course, he knew how that played out too.
When The Followers of Yewel did try to retrieve one of Adora's Tears from a known owner, a media personality named Narcissa Richmond, she denied their claims. When they took her to court, she trounced them. Narcissa's elite team of lawyers delayed any progress until the statute of limitations for retrieval had passed.
There wasn't a single Follower who didn't resent that play on one level or another. There also wasn't a single Follower who didn't despise Narcissa for what she would do next.
"I'm willing to cut a deal with The Followers," Narcissa told them, "if you can get five hundred thousand crowns. Get five hundred thousand and I'll sell it to you."
And they did. It took months, but they did it. However, when it came time for the exchange, Narcissa's tune changed.
"You know, after thinking about it, I'm finding that I'm more attached to this than I thought. It's going to take more money if I'm going to sell. How about you get a million crowns? We can talk then."
Her stunt disgusted both The Followers and the public at large, though it changed nothing. She owned Adora's Tear. She could do whatever she pleased.
"I've found that doing what's conventionally considered good – being friendly, adhering to the laws, showing mercy, telling the truth – is not always enough to ensure that the right things occur," Cassidy declared, her tone bitter. "Sometimes the only options people are left with are to either yield to these tormentors, to allow them to prosper in spite of why they're prospering, or to do something 'bad' to set things right. It's when predicaments such as these arise that we become a factor. We're 'the villains' so people like you don't have to."
He tried to speak, but nothing came. If he could, he would have quoted a passage from Alucin Elua and said that he who walks the path of a thief, no matter their reason, taints both their soul and the world. But he didn't. She had helped.
That thought triggered tiny tremors all across his skin. She, a self-admitted thief, had helped. Even if he didn't acknowledge it aloud, he knew it and worse, she knew it.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think there's anything I can do for you." Gerard rose to his feet and his eyes flew to the door. Just a few steps and he'd get away from her siren song.
"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Turner," Cassidy said, her voice honey once more. "In fact, I'm in need of your assistance in particular. There's a role I wish for you to assume in my present operation."
He hastened to the door. "I will not be an accomplice to any crimes."
"I'm not asking you to. Quite the opposite: I wish for you to convince me to not commit a crime."
His stride faltered. "Wh-what?" He twisted back around to face her. "Why?"
"I once read that sometimes the best approach to overcoming a problem is to introduce someone who possesses an alternate perspective, who thinks differently from those already embroiled. They might possess an idea which would have otherwise gone unnoticed. I've such a dilemma and you see the world in a way I do not. Ergo, you might possess the answer I seek. So would you be so kind as to help me?"
"…I'll need to know what the crime is first."
"You're planning to murder someone?!"
Her smile broadened. "Although we are on a private level, I'd be grateful if you didn't shout such things," she said with a hint of venom. "And for the record, I've yet to actually plan the deed. I'm simply entertaining the idea."
"What's there to even think about? Why would you even think about it?"
"There's this… calling them a person is generous, but it'll suffice. I recently encountered a person who has forced me to contemplate taking their life. It's perplexing, to say the least. On one hand, I rather not kill anyone. These lives we lead are, to the best of my knowledge, all we have and will ever have. To take a life is to take everything."
"If you believe that, really believe that, how could you even consider killing someone?"
"…Because there are some things in this world which cannot and should not be tolerated or absolved." Her nails, which bit into her chair's arms, betrayed her otherwise composed outer shell. "Before I continue, allow me to make one thing clear: I will punish this person for what they've done. That is not open to debate. Do not squander my time with any attempts to persuade me otherwise or try to interfere with my operations. While I've no desire to harm you, I'll do what I must should you force my hand. Do you understand?"
Gerard needed that seat more than ever then as his legs jellied. It wasn't just the fact that she had threatened him, but the way she did it; her voice remained as sweet as ever, her face stayed as composed as when she welcomed him. If she was bluffing, how was he to know? Even if she was, she didn't seem the type of person to test.
"I guess it's a good thing you're trying to think of alternatives to murder at least… I'll do my duty as a priest." He returned to the chair. "So who is it you want to kill? And why?"
"You're going to wind up raising all sorts of questions if I simply tell you who they are and what they've done. What's more, I rather you understand why I feel as I do before you pass judgment. If I'm to do this any justice, I'm going to have to share with you all the details surrounding my latest caper from the beginning."
Author's Notes & Questionnaire
Welcome to The Confessions of Cassidy Cain, the first novel in The Grandmaster of Theft series! Thank you for reading the prologue.
As you'll notice, I leave questions that I am curious about at the bottom of each chapter. The reason I ask them is because it provides answers I use for revisions. The story is in its present state not just because of my imagination and research, but because of feedback. If you don't wish to answer questions, that's fine! All I ask for is a simple comment saying whether or not you like what you read. You don't even need to sign up.
Did this prologue draw you in? If so, what did it for you?
What is your first impression of Cassidy Cain?
How about Cassidy's right-hand man in Wynn?
How about Gerard Turner?
What about Narcissa?
Thoughts on how I presented and handled Adora's Tear?
Thoughts on the prose & pacing?
Any questions, comments, compliments, criticisms, or so forth?