The Reluctant Assassin Boxset

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  He hovered his finger over the ten button in the elevator. What if it was up there? He'd almost worked himself up to press the button when the elevator lurched into motion. He almost convinced himself that he'd accidently pressed it until he realized he was moving downward.

  Zayn had a strong suspicion this was not going to be good. The ride to the bottom seemed to take forever. Feeling like a dog in a cage, he prepared to bolt out the door on faez-speed.

  When the door opened, he was faced with a group of people blocking his way. There were at least five security personnel, and not the wimpy door clerk kind. He was also staring at a thoroughly disappointed Mrs. Kettle, who had her arms crossed and a frown on her face that made Zayn feel like he'd murdered her first child.

  But none of these were what kept him from leaping out of the elevator in an attempt to escape. Because he was staring at a tall blonde woman with high cheekbones with an air one only saw in royalty, or in those rich and powerful enough to think they were. It was the woman from the mural on the side of the building.

  Celesse D'Agastine.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Varna, April 2010

  The Lady's plantation in the daytime

  Doing stupid things without planning had been a habit from Zayn's earliest years, and had nearly gotten him killed more times than naught. One such time was when the Goon had brought him to the Lady's plantation on an errand.

  The towering oaks and verdant lawn looked almost welcoming in the daytime, a far cry different than the shifting pools of shadow at night when Zayn came with his family for the Ceremony. Zayn leaned against the porch column as the Goon rang the buzzer. The door opened far too fast for someone not to have known they were coming.

  A Watcher stood in the opening, wearing her dark sunglasses like a mask. Zayn pulled himself away from the column and straightened his shirt, feeling like he was about to be inspected.

  "I need to see her," said the Goon in an aggressive tone that made Zayn flinch.

  "She's busy," said the Watcher in a passive voice that still managed to sound threatening. "Come back tomorrow."

  "Tell her I'm here and she'll see me. I have something for her," said the Goon.

  The Watcher looked over the Goon's shoulder to Zayn. He had the sudden urge to run until the Goon let out a sharp laugh. "Not him. He's with me. I have information."

  "Tell me and I'll pass it along," said the Watcher without a trace of inflection.

  "No way," said the Goon. "That ain't how I work. I only talk to her."

  The Watcher looked annoyed, which was like saying that a brick wall was annoyed, but that's what Zayn sensed.

  "I apologize, but you cannot see her today." The Watcher paused as if she were unsure how to proceed. "But you may be of help with another matter."

  "Go on," said the Goon, laughing. "Spit it out, or do you only spit from your backside?"

  The easy and condescending way that the Goon spoke to the Watcher appalled Zayn, not because he didn't despise them also, but because they were the Lady's enforcers. That the Goon didn't fear the Watcher gave Zayn a deeper understanding of his position in Varna.

  "I will explain if you step inside," said the Watcher with another glance towards Zayn.

  The Goon shrugged and followed her inside. Zayn wasted no time as soon as the door shut, and cupped his ear against the door.

  "...the Lady is unhappy with"—the name was garbled—"and needs him to be reminded of her expectations."

  "What did he do this time?" asked the Goon.

  "It wasn't what he did, but what he didn't do. He's as fragile as an insect's wings."

  "How reminded should he be?" asked the Goon.

  "There should be no doubt about the message," said the Watcher.

  A foot scuff warned him that they were returning outside. Zayn threw himself against the column, hastily taking up a casual position, then once again straightening himself as the Watcher's gaze fell upon him.

  But the length of time she stared at him twisted his guts a full three turns until his forehead broke out in sweat.

  The Goon sensed the attention, and with an amused chuckle added, "There's something about him, ain't there?"

  The Watcher slanted her lips crossly at the Goon. "There will come a time when your cleverness catches up with you."

  When they hopped into the Fireball, Zayn asked, "What are they?"

  The Goon glanced out the window as if they might hear. He waited until the Fireball was headed on the highway away from the plantation to explain.

  "They're the kids Varna sends to the Hundred Halls," said the Goon.

  "I...I know that," said Zayn, though he'd never heard anyone actually say it. It was one of those things everyone knew but no one discussed.

  "Another reason you'd be better off working for me," said the Goon. "The Lady does something to them."

  A whole host of thoughts flew through Zayn's mind, like a flock of ravens taking flight. They rode for another mile before Zayn spoke up. "I want to do the next job for you."

  "What did you say?"

  The Goon's hand went towards his hip holster.

  "I listened at the door," said Zayn. "I know it was stupid, but I didn't like the way she was acting, like she was going to do something to you."

  "And you were going to somehow stop her?" asked the Goon, raising an eyebrow.

  "Maybe help you, or something," said Zayn.

  "There ain't no fighting the Lady, or her Watchers for that matter. You might have heard my rough talk, but that's just a way that I gauge where I'm at in the Lady's graces. That I'm still allowed to speak that way lets me know where I stand. People in town think I'm untouchable, and I am, to everyone but her. But I only stay that way as long as I'm valuable to her. That works the same for you. And while I appreciate the sentiment about coming to my rescue, putting your ear to the door was dumber than painting a fence with a chicken sandwich."

  Despite the Goon's gentle reprimanding, he seemed to hold the news of Zayn's new allegiance with appreciation, ending with a short nod.

  The Fireball arrived at a small neighborhood behind the Castlewood trailer park. Aunt Lydia always said they built the neighborhood in spitting distance of the trailer park so the poor sons of bitches had someone to look down on in their shitty ranch homes.

  "Alright," said the Goon, motioning towards a house on the other side of the street. It was one of the nicer homes, a sign of someone on the move. "That's the house."

  "What do I need to do?" asked Zayn.

  "You need to put the fear into 'em," said the Goon, and his face turned mean and old, as if he were something else entirely. The veins on his forehead seemed to writhe, and his mouth, normally full of teeth, seemed suddenly toothless.

  Zayn recoiled into his side of the car, and then the Goon broke out laughing, and the horrible visage was gone.

  "Was that magic? I thought you didn't have any?" asked Zayn.

  "I don't," he said. "But it helps if you look like the kid from Deliverance banged Elmer Fudd. But you need to let them know about the Lady's displeasure in a permanent way, while not impacting their ability to still do the Lady's business."

  The Goon unstrapped his revolver and handed it over. Zayn put his hand on the grip and gently pushed it away, receiving a glare from the Goon.

  "I'll do it my way," said Zayn, holding his hand out and letting electricity crackle over his fingers. He'd been practicing the Five Elements in the woods behind the Stack when no one was watching.

  The Goon watched the display of magic with hunger. "God, that is the sexiest thing ever. It is a cosmic injustice that the Lady's poison protects us from faez, and yet I have not a drop in me. You're like Emperor Palpatine."

  Zayn let the electricity fade. It was more show than sting, but the Goon didn't have to know that.

  "Go get 'em, boy," said the Goon, as if Zayn was a bloodhound on the hunt. Before Zayn could slide completely out of the Fireball, the Goon grabbed his arm. "And don't forget
what I said last time. I'll know if you screw me on this."

  As Zayn marched away from the vehicle, he glimpsed the Goon holding the amulet on his chest beneath his shirt. After some research on the internet at the school library, Zayn had come to the conclusion that it was a Betrayer's Lock. It sensed betrayal by reading the intentions of those around the wearer and it was supposedly foolproof.

  As Zayn approached the home, he took a good look around to figure out who lived there. For personal safety, Zayn had always stayed out of the neighborhood, so he didn't know from his own experiences. Pounding his fist against the door, Zayn hoped that it wasn't someone his family had good relations with.

  Angry steps approached and the door swung wide, revealing a surprised Mean Clovis.

  "What the ever-loving—"

  The words died on Mean's lips as he glanced to the cherry-red Fireball GTX up the street. Everyone knew the Goon's car, and it was evident that Mean knew who Zayn now worked for.

  In the years since the Clovis brothers had beaten him and Keelan out back behind the Varnation Garage, Mean had doubled in size and somehow looked like he'd packed in four times the weight. In town, there were rumors that Mean was good enough to play football professionally, though he'd never be allowed because he was from Varna. Under different circumstance, Mean Clovis could break Zayn with one good punch, but these weren't those circumstances.

  With electricity crackling over his outstretched hand, Zayn backed Mean into his house.

  "I didn't do anything," said Mean, his forehead creasing with confusion.

  "It's not you that failed the Lady," said Zayn, making the connection. "But your dad."

  "He's not here," said Mean, hopeful. "Nobody's here. It's just me."

  "I'm sorry," said Zayn, slowly advancing, sparks jumping from his fingertips. "Then you'll have to relay the message."

  As big as Mean was, the threat of the Lady's vengeance turned him into a blubbering idiot. His voice cracked as he said, "But I didn't do anything."

  Zayn knew how it must look to Mean. The biggest Clovis brother had roughed up Zayn and his cousin on more than one occasion, and now the tables were turned with the Goon waiting in the wings in his Fireball GTX, and the Lady's word backing the both of them.

  It was a lot to handle for Mean Clovis, as he genuflected to one knee, holding his hands up. Zayn grabbed him by the wrist. His hand looked like a child's on Mean's arm.

  "Your father is in big trouble with the Lady." He screamed into Mean's face, making it loud enough he could be heard outside. "And after I'm done with you, you're not going to be at school for the next week."

  There was nothing but white in Mean's eyes. Zayn could have knocked him over with a breath. Zayn turned towards a knickknack shelf with a row of porcelain figurines lined up along the edge. They were collector figurines of the Hundred Hall patrons. Zayn recognized the towering figure of Invictus on the end.

  He kicked the shelf over. Half the figurines shattered as they hit the linoleum floor.

  Mean stepped forward with fists at his side. "Those were my momma's."

  That truth hit Zayn squarely in the gut, but he didn't have time for second thoughts. "Remember that you're not going to be at school for the next week."

  The twin emotions of confusion and rage had taken over Mean's face from the display, a little spittle hanging at the corner of his lip.

  "I don't understand," he quivered.

  Zayn shocked Mean. His arm recoiled against his chest.

  "You're not going to be at school for the next week, and your father is going to fix whatever he did, beg the Lady's forgiveness, whatever he needs to do," said Zayn.

  "I...I will," said Mean.

  "Do you! Do you!"

  Zayn pushed Mean over. The big kid landed on his side with his hands still up, forehead writhing with confusion.

  "You're not going to be at school the next week," said Zayn.

  "I'm not?"

  Zayn kicked him in the gut, not hard, but enough to get his attention. "You're NOT going to be at school next week!"

  The moment Mean's eyes went wide with understanding, Zayn shocked him again, to hide his own complicity in the subterfuge. He didn't know how specifically the Betrayer's Lock worked, but he assumed it had to do with intention. Magic could make miracles out of mist, but it never worked exactly as people expected. Zayn hoped to exploit that.

  "Scream if you understand," said Zayn.

  When a weak cry came from Mean's trembling lips, Zayn said it again.

  "Scream!"

  Zayn shocked him again as the cry came out, twisting it into a tortured wail.

  "Do you understand!"

  With tears in his eyes, Mean nodded his head. Zayn marched out the door before his mind might recognize the big guy's expression.

  When he got back into the car, he was shaking. The Goon had his hand on the locket beneath his shirt. He was studying Zayn as if he didn't believe what he saw. When the Goon's hand went to his revolver, Zayn's heart stopped cold.

  But when he reached out, the gun wasn't in his hand, but a bottle of water. A straggled cry caught itself in Zayn's throat.

  "I bet that felt real good after what that sonofabitch did to you on the day of your uncle's funeral," said the Goon, breaking into a grin as he handed over the water.

  Zayn found himself fighting back tears. "It did."

  "It's tough the first time, making a person know you mean it like that, but it gets easier, I swear to you," said the Goon.

  "I bet it does," said Zayn, chugging the water to hide his anger.

  "I heard his screams from here. You must have put a real licking on him. I wanted to see it myself, watch you shock the piss out of him, make him cry like a bitch, but I didn't want to get in the way of it. His daddy is gonna remember that," said the Goon.

  And at that, Zayn understood that the Goon had sent him up to the house, knowing that Deputy Clovis wasn't at the house, and that it would be the oldest son, Mean. What better way to teach someone how to do your dirty work, than to add a bit of revenge.

  When the Goon dropped him off that night, he had a wad of cash in his pocket. Zayn didn't bother counting it—he was going to give it all away. Instead, as he walked the path back to the Stack, he made a promise to himself that one day the Goon would pay.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Second Ward, March 2014

  Learning the art of being alone in jail

  It took two days of waiting in the city jail with faez blockers snapped to his wrists before anyone came to see him. He'd expected questions about why he'd broken into the D'Agastine Cosmetics building, or if he was working with anyone. No one even asked his name, which at first he thought was odd, until he remembered that this was the city of sorcery, and there were mages who could find out anything about him without ever having to speak to him.

  When he'd asked about his one phone call, the jail clerk had laughed at him and told him Hall students didn't have the same rights. As the only magical university in the world, the Hundred Halls had a special deal with the United States government, so the city of Invictus was in some ways a separate entity, much like Vatican City in Rome.

  Zayn spent the time hunched on his bed with his arms around his knees. At least they'd given him his own cell. But this was a curse as well, because if there'd been someone else in the room, he could have at least distracted himself with idle conversation.

  He didn't regret what he'd done, only that he'd gotten caught. It wasn't like he'd made a mistake. Mrs. Kettle had decided to come into work that day to get ready for her trip back to Tokyo. When the security guard went to issue her a new badge, he noticed the recent swipes. Once they saw Zayn on the upper floors, they called the real security, who notified Celesse D'Agastine.

  The jail clerk banged on the bars. "Time to go."

  Zayn thought he was getting moved to another facility, but the clerk unlocked the suppression cuffs and led him to the front.

  Instructor Allgood was wai
ting for him, gripping his clawed staff so hard that his scarred knuckles were white. The clerk tried to get the instructor to sign the clipboard. Instructor Allgood growled and the clerk wisely scurried back to safety.

  After two days of silence, Zayn couldn't help but ask a question as he followed Instructor Allgood down the sidewalk.

  "What's going to happen to me?" asked Zayn.

  A rumble like distant thunder came from Instructor Allgood's chest. Zayn buttoned his lips together, but kept an eye out for signs of what was going to happen to him.

  They took the red line to the outer city. Instructor Allgood sat silent and impenetrable, leaving Zayn to feel like a dead man walking.

  Instructor Allgood brought him to a crappy hotel in the eleventh ward and paid the clerk with a wad of bills.

  Instructor Allgood shoved the room key into Zayn's chest. "Don't try to tell me why you were in the D'Agastine Cosmetics building, because I don't care. You're too dumb to follow directions and that's all that matters to me. But the patron is out of the country on business, so we're stuck with you until then. When she returns, she will decide your fate and you will most likely return to Varna, and I don't give a crap what the Lady does to your dumb ass.

  "I don't know how long she'll be gone, so you stay here. There's a deli up the street, I'll pay them in advance for your meals. You can be here or there. If I see or hear about you going anywhere else, using magic or your imbuement, I will come back and deal with you my way, and then you won't have to worry about what the patron or the Lady will do."

  When Instructor Allgood stormed out of the front door, the metal handle bent in his grip. Zayn turned around to find the hotel clerk had fled.

  By the time Zayn made it to his room, he was completely numb. It felt like he'd fallen out of himself, that he was in some weird alternate world where nothing made sense. He curled up on his bed, clutching his fists against his chest, waiting for someone to come back and tell him it was a joke. But no one came, eventually the numbness wore off, and he was left with complete desolation.