Chapter Thirteen
I always knew it would come to this moment but I never imagined how many people would fall by my hand. The few weeks of bumping into people on the street, Cyrus in my ear whispering commands while he hid out of sight, watching my every move by hacking into city surveillance, wasn’t the real thing. It was simply preparing me for the looming task ahead. I didn’t even want to know how Cyrus got into the city surveillance with a few strokes of the keys. He was just full of surprises.
Vivid images of people bursting into flames and crumbling to cinders played on a loop in my mind. I began to regret asking Cyrus what the poison did to its victims. It would be permanently stuck with me, just as permanent as the antidote swimming through my veins.
I understood why Cyrus injected me with an antidote. The weapon he had given me was a ring. The gem was filled with the poison. It was nothing but a casing but it could easily be mistaken as an emerald, due to the facets and the vibrant green colour. There was a switch on the side of the ring that controlled a thin, retractable blade. The blade was like a needle. It was subtle but had a nasty habit of pricking my finger if I wasn’t careful. I just prayed that Cyrus’s antidote was legitimate or else I would meet a very sticky end. It was funny just how much I trusted him even though I knew how ruthless he was. He always had my back, even if he pretended otherwise.
Today was the day where I started my body count. It was overcast, nearly threatening to pour down with rain. I was standing out in the open, balancing on the balls of my feet, no shelter. People strolled past me as I gazed up at the skyscrapers. I didn’t stick out from the crowd. I just looked like the average teenager, innocent, not lethal. The black jacket I was wearing was lined with knives in case something went wrong and I had to change my game plan. The jacket was simple and elegant. No one would know I was hiding weapons.
“Nod once if you can hear me,” Cyrus said through the comms. “Remember what I said about raising your hand and speaking to me. We aren’t doing that today. You need to give me subtle signals if you understand my commands. Got it?”
I nodded once in response, letting my hand drop to my side after scratching my head. I had almost spoken into my comms. Scratching my head was a cover-up. Totally nailed it.
“Good. I’m just scanning through the surveillance now to see if anyone is close by,” Cyrus said.
Was it bad that I was kind of hoping I’d have to walk a fair way? It gave me time to think. It gave me time to breathe and relax. I wasn’t freaking out. Okay, that was a big fat lie. I was but I wasn’t letting it show. My hands weren’t trembling, my composure wasn’t crumbling, the fear was all in my head. I had every reason to be afraid. I was going to kill a lot of people today and praying I wouldn’t get caught out so soon. Cyrus was confident I’d do just fine. He killed people for a living so he was the expert. I couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
“Head into the convenience store a few blocks down. That’s the closest. Straight ahead.”
I let out a calming breath through my nose and started to walk straight ahead, as requested. I passed several shops along the way and walked ahead of smokers. I didn’t appreciate having the blow back or having to smell that disgusting plume.
The city was buzzing with people. Most were preoccupied with their phones and not looking where they were walking, ears blocked with earphones. Others chatted with each other and laughed at stupid jokes. A handful looked up at the sky hoping it didn’t rain and ruin their hair. I wouldn’t mind if it rained. I loved the rain. It had nothing to do with the fact that Cyrus’s power felt like rain splatters, honest.
“The guy in the baseball cap at the counter buying smokes. If you time it, you can knock into him on his way out the door. I’ll tell you when.”
If I put myself in a mindset where I was still doing practice runs, I wouldn’t choke. I just had to remind myself that this was the first person, the first of many, who were going to die by my hand. At least I wouldn’t see the final result. I just had to hold my head high and carry on.
“Go,” Cyrus urged.
I discreetly tapped the switch on my ring and walked through the door the same time the guy was going out, running into him. I knew the blade made contact. I didn’t see it. I felt it. A faint hiss of magic crawled up my hand.
The guy pushed past me with a sharp shove, knocking me back. “Watch where you’re going, kid,” he muttered, not glancing back at me. He just continued on his way. I never saw his face.
“Did you feel the faint magic burst? Nod once,” Cyrus said through the comms.
I nodded once and walked out of the doorway, back onto the street. Pretending this was still a practice run made it a lot easier. The vivid images of people burning into a pile of ash weren’t plaguing my mind, mainly because I was lying to myself. If that’s what got me through today, I would continue to do so.
“Good. That’s one down. Plenty more to go. Continue down the street. I’ll tell you where to go from there.”
I wasn’t speaking from experience but it was much different killing people like this instead of using a gun or knife. For starters, the targets didn’t know they had been poisoned. If I used a gun or a knife, there would be a confrontation and I would be fighting for my life. There would also be a lot of blood. Poison was discreet. This form of poison wouldn’t be something I’d want to use again. I didn’t do torture. The idea of making people perish in their own flames and disintegrating into dust made my stomach churn with disgust. Yet I was carrying on with this mission, jabbing unsuspecting gang members in the city one by one. It was the only way I could kill them without getting caught.
I listened to Cyrus’s instructions without question. It felt like I was sleepwalking. I had a studded bracelet that took responsibility for the sharp prick if anyone complained. As soon as they laid eyes on the studs they just kept walking. No one saw the blade. It retracted instantly when it made its mark. I could kill the entire city if everyone who was around me happened to be immortal. You couldn’t tell the difference, only if an elderly human walked by. Every other Tainted Being could blend in with the younger generation. It was a scary prospect that I could kill anyone. They were safe if they weren’t my targets.
As the day dragged on, I lost count of how many people I had poisoned. I had walked for miles and had taken busses when I finished a section of the city. Bus trips gave me time to snack on the nuts I had stashed in my pocket. I also had a small bottle of water. I took leisurely sips. It had to last the whole day. Cyrus didn’t want me to waste any time and made it quite clear I had to make my supplies last.
I covered the city in sections, moving forward each time. That minimised the risk of having my targets burst into flames in front of me, should I wander back into the territory I had already covered. Moving forward was the best thing to do. I wanted to avoid seeing the finale of the poison. A part of me felt sorry for the people who would witness the horror. I shoved that pity aside in a small box. I didn’t need to feel sorry for anyone.
The mood of the city changed when it hit the evening. Reports of people bursting into flames and leaving behind a strange mark in their ash remains spread like wildfire. The bodies were unidentifiable so the authorities hadn’t made the link, only that the people dying were suspected to be immortal. Everyone panicked because it wasn’t confirmed. There was no solid evidence, only cinders. Cars packed the streets at a standstill. People were stocking up on supplies and fleeing to the safety of their homes, treating the poison as an epidemic. Fear made people do stupid things. It wasn’t a contagious sickness. I was cleaning up the trash on the streets. I was putting an end to drug trades and every other awful thing the gangs had control over.
I slipped into any alleyway, glancing back to make sure nobody followed me. When I was positive I was alone, I raised my hand to my comm. “How many left?”
“There’s only one gang with roughly twenty remaining members. They’ve taken sanctuary in their safe house. They’re all grouped up in one place.
You’ll have to infiltrate.”
“We didn’t plan for this.”
“I know. I’m moving my current position so I’ll be closer. Traffic is hideous so I’ll get there when I can. I’m probably going to end up running to the other side of town, it will be faster. Don’t wait for me. Remember your Russian lessons and you’ll be fine.”
“This is crazy. I’m freaking out!”
“Calm down and keep your voice down. Continue down the alleyway. Second to last bend take a right. Go straight ahead and then turn left. There’s a guard at the door. Say you’re seeking sanctuary from the storm. That’s the password. Russian. Speak fluent Russian. All you need to do is blend in and take them out discreetly one by one. They’ll have enough vodka in their system to not feel a pinch.”
“I don’t want to be there when they all go up in smoke.”
“There was always a possibility that this would happen. They don’t know what’s causing the deaths. They won’t hold you responsible. Relax. You can do this. You’re good at pretending.”
“Don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. Why would they allow a stranger into their safe house?”
“If they ask what business you have tell them Nikolai sent you.”
“Care to elaborate who Nikolai is?”
“One of my aliases. Go. You’re stalling.”
“What do I do if they won’t let me leave after I finish the job?”
“Hang tight. I’ll be there when you need me. They’ll pat you down for weapons. Don’t resist and let them take whatever they find. You might want to hide a knife in your shoe for safekeeping.”
“I’ll do that now,” I said, slipping my hand into my jacket to remove a knife.
I skimmed my fingers across each row to find a smaller knife that would fit in my shoe. I had nearly a dozen knives. I had come prepared. I found a decent sized one and took off my shoe, placing the sheathed blade inside before slipping my foot back. It was uncomfortable but I’d rather have a backup than nothing at all.
“You still there?” I asked. It had gone awfully quiet.
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m on my way. Remember the directions?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“I’m keeping the line open. I’ll hear everything and give you prompts if I feel like you need them. Make your way there.”
“Alright, thanks,” I said, beginning to walk further down the alleyway.
“Nikolai also has a ruthless reputation. If they pick a fight with you, show them what I passed down to you. Don’t hold back but don’t kill them. Let the poison do its job.”
“Got it.”
“Remember what I taught you. It will keep you alive long enough for me to get you.”
“That’s comforting,” I muttered under my breath, taking the right turn on the second to last bend.
“No more talking. You have this under control. You’re almost done.”
“M’kay,” I said, dropping my hand from the comm.
I had multiple butterflies in my stomach. I felt their wings tickle the underside of my skin. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm down. I did that several times. I could do this.
The guard was posted outside of the safe house. Cyrus never specified if the guard was one of my targets. Better safe than sorry. The guard was dressed in black. His skin was fair and his blonde hair was slicked back. Tattoos crawled up his arms and neck, patterns I couldn’t make out from where I was. The skulls on his shoulders were easy. The rest not so much. He was tall and rather muscular, like he played whack-a-mole with humans, leaving them trapped in the dirt.
“What do you want?” he asked me in English, his accent heavily coated with Russian. Those brown eyes stared into mine. They were so dark that I could see my reflection.
“I’m seeking sanctuary from the storm,” I replied in Russian, answering fluently and with the correct accent.
“Who sent you?”
“Nikolai.”
Fear paled his eyes and skin. His muscles tensed at the sound of that name. “We do not shelter strangers.”
“I’ll call him and tell him you turned me away. I’m sure you wouldn’t want him to come down here. You will take the full brunt of his displeasure. Let me in,” I said.
The guard took a moment to make a decision. Hesitation smothered him. He flexed his fingers and uneasily shifted his feet, never dropping eye contact with me.
My posture never faltered. I remained confident and tall, giving the best mean face I had. I wasn’t sure if that would be good enough. I looked far too innocent. Nobody would know I had been trained to kill.
“Hold up your hands. I need to search you for weapons.”
“Give him your jacket,” Cyrus murmured in my ear. I had almost forgotten he was still listening.
“My jacket has everything. Take it,” I told the guard.
I shrugged off the jacket and handed it to the guard, trusting Cyrus’s judgment. I flicked the switch on my ring at the same time. The blade nicked the guards hand when his finger touched one of the knives lined in the jacket. I got lucky. He had flinched but didn’t suspect foul play from me.
“I still need to pat you down.”
“Go ahead,” I said, holding up my hands.
It was clear to see I had nothing left to hide. I was wearing a tight singlet that would have exposed any hidden weapons, the same with my skinny jeans.
The guard did a brief check, patting me down. I was grateful that he didn’t ask me to take off my shoes. I would be entering a building full of criminals unarmed otherwise. That knife in my shoe made me feel a little safer even though I had a million fighting techniques up my sleeve.
“I’ll take you through,” the guard said, pushing open the metal door with a sharp shove.
He held the door open, waiting for me to go first. My jacket was slung over his shoulder. I got the impression I wasn’t going to get it back anytime soon. His posture was rather relaxed and nonthreatening, which was a bit hard to pull off considering how huge his arms were. I trusted him not to knock me out or kill me once he was no longer in my line of sight. I wouldn’t let my guard drop, though, not for a second.
The door clanged shut behind us. There was no turning back now.
All the gang member’s eyes were on me as soon as I entered the building. Cyrus said I was good at pretending. That may be the case on the outside, but in the inside my mind was screaming in protest. Get out. Get out now.
The safe house was a large warehouse. Chains dangled from the roof, rattling in the breeze of the whirling air conditioning. There were a handful of closed shipping containers scattered around the room. I wasn’t sure what was stashed inside those containers. I didn’t want to know. All I could smell was the stench of alcohol, my guess vodka. That wasn’t coming from the containers.
Everyone was sitting down at the table playing poker. Smoke from cigarettes swirled around them. Money, chips and glasses of vodka were sprawled across the table. No one had made a move since I walked in, not even a shuffle of cards.
“Kristof, who’s this?” the man at the head of the table asked in Russian, releasing a puff of smoke. Grease slicked back his dark hair. Black stretchers extended his earlobes. His lip, eyebrow and nose were pierced with silver hoops. He flicked the buildup of ash into the ashtray, never dropping eye contact with me. His eyes were colder than Cyrus’s, an icy blue, enhanced by the eyeliner he was wearing.
“She knows Nikolai,” the guard, Kristof, replied.
The table laughed in disbelief and continued with their poker game, losing interest in me. The man sitting at the head of the table never touched his cards and kept his attention on me.
“That princess knows Nikolai?” the man asked, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray with a few twists. I was beginning to think he was the leader, judging by his position at the table and how everyone else never said a word.
“I’m not a princess. I’m one of Nikolai’s disciples,” I snapped, ange
r bubbling in my voice. I was sick and tired of people calling me a princess.
The table roared with laughter. Someone actually spat their drink across the table, causing them to laugh louder. They refilled his glass and clunked them together, cheering. They were all loud and drunk.
“I’ll be quite happy to prove it,” I added, folding my arms across my chest. “Unless none of you wish to be beaten by a girl.”
“I don’t even need to give you prompts. If you’re not given a choice of who it is you’ll be fighting, at least pick a weapon,” Cyrus murmured quietly through my comm.
“Kristof–”
“That’s hardly fair,” I interrupted the man at the head of the table. There was no way I was getting into a fist fight with Kristof.
“Nikolai would jump at the challenge. Clearly you are not one of his disciples,” the man said after sculling back his glass of vodka.
“Choose a weapon,” Cyrus said. “All you need to do is last. They’ll take you in if you do.”
What happens if I don’t last? I couldn’t ask him that question. I was hoping he would answer it without a prompt. I wasn’t that fortunate and only had silence in my ear. I guess he didn’t need to tell me. It would only be bad news.
“What are you waiting for? Show us what you’re made of, princess,” the man at the head of the table said.
I was going to wipe that smug expression off his guy-liner face.
“Kristof, hand me my jacket. We will be using those knives. I don’t fancy my chances in a fist fight with you,” I said, glancing over my shoulder and holding my hand out behind me.
Kristof gave me my jacket with no questions asked. I took out two knives, one for each hand. My thought process was if I lost one, I’d still have another. I handed Kristof the other two knives from my jacket before letting it drop to the floor. I could have used it for protection but I wanted to have less restriction on movement. Going up against someone this massive, I needed to be quick.
“He is one of the best knife wielding fighters in our group. That was a bad move on your part,” the leader spoke, lighting another cigarette. “Your funeral.”
“Kristof is a jack of all trades. It didn’t matter which weapon you picked. Viktor set you up to fail but I taught you better than that. You’ll manage,” Cyrus said, sounding confident. He couldn’t see how large Kristof was in person. A photo didn’t give his physique justice. “Don’t overthink it, Joan. You have had hours upon hours of training with the best of the very best. You can do this.”
“All in on Kristof,” one of the men at the table spoke, pushing all his chips and money to the centre of the table.
Everyone followed suit, saying the exact same thing. It was natural instinct to pick the strongest looking person when it came to winning a fight but sometimes it was better to bet on the dark horse. Cyrus being confident in me made me believe it was possible to last. He never said I had to win. I just needed to prove myself.
Kristof moved to a clearer space so we had more room to work with. He spun the knives in his hands so quickly that they blurred. I could hear the air being sliced to shreds. A gulp got trapped in my throat. I wasn’t going to run away. I was going to show them I wasn’t a princess.
Kristof looked surprised with how I was standing. The flawless stance Cyrus had drilled into me happened without a thought, muscle memory. Kristof knew I meant business. Concern touched his face for just a moment and disappeared before anyone else caught it. That made me feel a little more confident.
“All in on the girl,” Viktor said, pushing his contribution into the centre of the table. “Just to humour you, my friends.”
The group laughed. That laughter would turn into shocked silence, mark my words.
Cyrus taught me to always make the first move. I needed to, especially with an opponent of this stature. I needed to be fast, fierce and stubborn. If I got sliced to shreds, I needed to ignore the pain. The cuts would heal. That was the good thing about using knives. Slices healed almost instantly. The same couldn’t be said for a blade stuck in muscle or bone. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.
I lurched forward to strike. Kristof blocked my first blow but was a little slow on the follow up block. He didn’t expect me to be so fast. A long gash appeared on his arm. I was the first to spill blood. I could already hear the shocked silence.
I didn’t have time to watch his wound heal. We were too busy attacking each other, blocking, slicing, and spilling blood. He caught my face. Blood filled my mouth. I spat out the blob onto the floor and ducked to avoid another high hit.
I was too little to knock him down with force. I had to be smart with my game plan. I just kept blocking and broke through to attack when I could. I threw in punches and kicks for good measure, putting as much force behind my strikes as I could. It didn’t get me anywhere.
I knew guys had an ultimate weak spot. It was the one spot desperate people went for. In a situation like this, I was pretty desperate. I’d be able to hold out for a little longer but Kristof was strong. If I didn’t break out the move I had in mind, he’d knock me onto my ass sooner rather than later.
I disguised my idea with a flurry of strikes to the chest region before driving my blade into the unmentionables. Kristof howled like a banshee and fell to the ground simultaneously. The pain was so much that he passed out. I felt the whole room cringe.
I yanked the blade out, dropped it by his unconscious body and held up my hands when I heard several clicks. I rose up from the floor gradually and turned around just as slowly. The entire table had their guns on me, shotguns, handguns; a vast variety I couldn’t quite count. Adrenaline made it difficult to absorb everything around me. My breathing was sharp and I could feel my hands tremble while I held them in the air. I was covered in blood, my own and Kristof’s. I was glad my stomach became hardened while training with Cyrus or else I’d be losing the entire contents.
“You fight dirty,” Viktor said, the only one at the table who hadn’t stood or raised a gun against me.
Viktor had watched the fight so intently that the majority of his cigarette was piled with ash. He gave it a quick tap and puffed the last of it, twisting the bud in the ashtray.
“I like dirty. What’s your name?” Viktor asked.
“Give them your real one. They’ll be dead before the day ends,” Cyrus murmured, sounding pleased that I won. If only he knew what I had been forced to do to win...
“Joan. My name is Joan,” I replied breathlessly.
My emotions were so heightened it was crazy. I left my hands up in the air because the guns were still on me. I couldn’t do anything else but look defenceless.
“Lower your guns. She’s proven herself. You’re just upset that you lost all your money,” Viktor said, heaving the entire haul to his side of the table. “Go shake her hand and give her the proper greeting. She’s earned it.”
They all put their guns on the table one by one, apart from one man who looked like he was a relative of Kristof. They shared the same facial features and eye colour, a brown so dark it looked black.
“She stabbed Kristof in–”
“He’ll live. I can’t say the same thing about his dignity,” Viktor said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Gun, down, now.”
The gun went down on the table with the rest. The relative dropped his weapon reluctantly and kept those hostile eyes on me.
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, Joan, but this is the perfect opportunity to strike them all at the same time. Poison them when they shake your hand. Then it’s over,” Cyrus reminded me.
It’s not over because I’ll be stuck here until you pull me out.
What was I supposed to do until then? I’d play the waiting game and pray it didn’t kill me.
Everlasting Flame Page 13