Page 22 of Dark Shaman: Eternal Hope (The Children Of The Gods #100)

CAROL

C arol surveyed the penthouse dining room one last time, checking that everything was in place for the first real training session of her spy team.

The cameras were positioned at multiple angles, notebooks and pens laid out at each seat, and she'd even set up a small area near the windows with various props—hats, scarves, different styles of glasses, things they'd use later when Eva arrived.

When the doorbell rang at precisely nine in the morning, she opened it to find all five women standing there once more, looking ready for battle.

"Morning, ladies. Ready for today's lesson?"

"Ready as we'll ever be," Marlene said, striding in with confidence that looked innate rather than a mere facade. She'd dressed more practically today—dark slacks, a simple blouse that wouldn't restrict movement, and low kitten heels that were comfortable but still looked fashionable and polished.

Carol approved.

They filed in and took the same seats as before, which told Carol they were already creatures of habit. That would need to change.

"First rule," Carol said, remaining standing. "Never sit in the same place twice. Patterns make you predictable, and predictable makes you vulnerable."

Teresa immediately stood and moved to a different chair. The others followed, some more reluctantly than others.

"Better," Carol said, taking a seat herself—not at the head of the table this time, but along the side.

"Today we're focusing on observation. It's the foundation of everything else you'll learn.

You can't become someone's ideal woman if you don't know what they're looking for, and most people never say what they really want.

Sometimes they don't even know that themselves, but you will learn to puzzle it out by observing their behavior. "

Grace raised her hand. "We did observation exercises last week."

"That was just for demonstration. This is the real deal." Carol pulled out a tablet and tapped the screen. "I'm going to show you a thirty-second video. Watch it once, then tell me everything you observed."

The wall-mounted screen came to life, showing what appeared to be a coffee shop. A man in a business suit sat at a corner table, typing on a laptop. A woman walked past with a dog. Two teenagers argued near the counter. A barista called out an order. Then the video ended.

"What did you see?" Carol asked.

"Man working on his computer, probably a businessman based on the suit," Marlene said. "The woman with the dog was wearing designer clothes—wealthy neighborhood."

"The teenagers were arguing about money," Teresa added. "One claimed that the other owed him twenty dollars, but the other was saying that he's already repaid it."

"The barista called out an order of soy latte with extra foam and caramel," Grace contributed.

Regina spoke up hesitantly. "The man kept touching his wedding ring. Twisting it."

Carol smiled. "Good catch, Regina. What else?"

Greta, who'd been silent, finally spoke. "The businessman wasn't typing. His fingers were moving, but if you watched the screen's reflection in the window behind him, it never changed. He was pretending to work while watching the woman with the dog."

"Excellent," Carol said. "What else did everyone miss?"

They looked at each other, uncertain.

"The teenagers weren't customers," Carol explained.

"Neither had drinks or food. They were there for another reason—probably dealing drugs based on the quick hand exchange that happened when one 'bumped' into the other.

The woman with the dog? She was casing the place.

Her eyes swept every corner and noted the camera positions.

The dog was a prop to make her look harmless.

And the businessman? He wasn't wearing a wedding ring.

Regina saw what she expected to see based on his demographic, not what was actually there. "

Regina flushed. "But I saw him touching?—"

"It was his class ring. Different finger, different meaning. He was nervous, yes, but not about infidelity. Watch again." Carol replayed the video, and this time they all saw what she'd pointed out.

"This is what I mean by observation," Carol continued. "You need to see what's actually there, not what you expect or assume. Your targets will be powerful men who've spent their lives learning to hide their true intentions. You need to see past their masks."

"How do we learn that?" Teresa asked.

"Practice. Constant, deliberate practice." Carol switched to another recording. "I recorded this earlier on the street below. Pick a person and tell me their story—not what you imagine, but what you can actually observe and reasonably deduce."

"There." Marlene pointed. "The woman in the red dress. She's walking fast but checking her phone constantly. She's late for something but expecting an important call or message. The dress is wrinkled on one side, so she might have slept in her car or someone else's bed."

"Possible," Carol said. "But look at her shoes."

"Flats," Grace observed. "She's carrying heels in that bag."

"So, she changed shoes for the walk, which suggests planning, not a spontaneous overnight. The wrinkles could be from a long flight. The phone checking might be waiting for an Uber. See how the story changes when you notice more details?"

They spent the next hour watching clips of random people that Carol had recorded at different places doing everyday things.

She was pushing them to look deeper, to question their assumptions.

Regina, surprisingly, began to excel at it.

Her natural anxiety made her hypervigilant, and once she learned to channel that into observation rather than worry, she caught details others missed.

"That man is favoring his left side," Regina pointed out about a pedestrian.

"Old injury, probably military, based on his bearing.

But he's trying to hide it, which means he doesn't want to appear vulnerable.

It might be something that is innate, or he's going to a job interview or an important meeting where he needs to project strength.

I would need to observe him in different situations to know which is true. "

"Good," Carol said. "Knowing when you need more clues is just as important as observing what you can at first glance."

When the doorbell rang, Carol stopped the recording. "That must be Eva."

The female didn't require introductions as everyone knew her and was familiar with her work.

When Carol opened the door, she found her carrying two large cases and wearing all black, which wasn't her usual style. Eva preferred flowy long skirts and pretty blouses that made her look feminine and obscured her ruthless nature.

"Let me help you with that." Carol reached for one of the cases.

Eva gave her a haughty look. "I can manage. Where to?"

"The dining room."

"Ladies," Eva greeted as she set down her cases. "I'm here to teach you the art of disguise. You will learn how to become someone else and how to be unrecognizable."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Grace asked.

"Not at all." Eva opened the first case, revealing an array of products. "Becoming someone else is psychological. Not being recognized as yourself is physical. They require different skills."

She studied each woman in turn. "Marlene, your cheekbones are your most distinctive feature.

We'll need to minimize those. Teresa, your eyes are beautiful, very memorable.

Regina, your nervous habits are more identifying than your face.

Grace, you have perfect posture, which is rarer than you think.

And Greta..." She paused. "You've done this before. "

"A long time ago," Greta admitted.

"The bones remember even when the mind forgets." Eva pulled out what looked like a simple makeup compact. "This is theater putty. With this and some basic contouring, I can age you twenty years or take off ten. Change your race, your social class, your entire presence."

She demonstrated on herself first, adding subtle shadows under her eyes, changing the shape of her nose slightly, and adjusting her jawline. Within minutes, she looked exhausted, older, beaten down by life.

"But makeup only goes so far," she continued, wiping it off with a makeup-removing towelette. "True disguise is about changing how you move, how you hold yourself, how you occupy space."

"Show them the walk," Carol suggested.

Eva smiled. First, she walked across the room with her natural gait—confident, smooth, slightly predatory.

Then she adjusted something in her posture and walked again.

This time, she seemed smaller, hesitant, her feet barely making a sound.

A third pass and she strutted, taking up space, her heels clicking authoritatively.

"Same shoes, same clothes, same person," Eva said. "But would you recognize me as the same woman if you saw these three versions on the street?"

"No," Regina said, looking fascinated. "The middle one especially—you seemed to shrink."

"That is why some women complain about being invisible," Eva explained.

"When you make yourself small and unthreatening, your presence doesn't even register.

It's extremely useful for a spy who wishes to be overlooked, and you should practice this until you master it.

The opposite is true when you need to command attention and respect. "

She had them practice walking, adjusting their natural gaits. Marlene struggled at first—her confidence was so ingrained that making herself seem meek was difficult.

"I can't," she said after her fifth attempt. "It just makes me depressed. It feels wrong."

"Because you're doing method acting and trying to think of yourself as small and insignificant. That can work for some, but not for you. Think of it as choosing to be underestimated. There's power in being overlooked—you see everything while no one sees you."

That reframing helped, and Marlene's next attempt was better.