An Assassin's Deception

by A. K. Koonce

  The scream that rips from Scarlet is the same ear-shattering, depressing sound that Derek had made when her assault started, and she’s gripping her head as if she’s trying to pull her beautiful red hair out. A shield of snapping white energy wraps over Derek and he forces it out from himself, knocking Scarlet clear across the room and into another bookshelf with a sickening crack. Jameson rushes to her side and seconds pass as I stare at her. Waiting.

  Her eyes never open.

  Derek stands. Blood saturates his clothes as he glares down on me so hard I feel the weight of his stare.

  “Armond and I arranged your entire existence, Alexa. I helped make you. Your mother was nothing until I found her. And you would be the same way without me. But you're so fucking withdrawn from society you’d rather hide away with a group of misfits than rise to your true calling.”

  The breath hitting my lungs burns from how rapidly I inhale and exhale. Tylin looks from Derek to me and then back again.

  “And just what is my calling?” My jaw clenches closed the moment I’m able to force the question out. I hate that I’m playing right into his ruse. Into the never-ending confusing string of questions and statements he always leaves me with.

  Derek takes a step closer, his legs shaking with visible weakness. The moment he moves forward, Tylin cuts him off. His palm grips hard against Derek’s upper arm.

  A strange look of pity shifts into Derek’s gaze. It’s so out of place right now that it throws me off guard. It nearly distracts me until another rumble of power rattles the dozens of towering bookcases. The sound of the building shifting clatters through the room and still, I stare at him.

  Derek’s image flickers and before anyone can stop him, he teleports. He lands with a wafting breeze right in front of me. His power flickers all around me, but it’s too strong for me to latch on to. The guy seems to have a plethora of skills, and I can't grip the base power he holds. The teasing energy snaps against my skin but it’s painful to touch. I can’t siphon it no matter how hard I try.

  “Your calling is to be my predecessor, Alexa Hart. You have a talent for absorbing power. If you let it, that energy would build into something all-powerful.” His words hum through the room like another tremor, and his speech only fuels my rage as I fist my hands at my sides and force myself to wait for the rest of our team. I’m barely listening to things he spews until he says the one thing that rips away everything I ever thought I knew about myself. “I know what that power is capable of because that’s the one trait I passed on to you as your father.”

  My jaw clenches. I feel like I’m in some Star Wars moment. The bizarre look remains in his eyes. I want to claw that look right out of his head and never set eyes on him again.

  “What did you just say to me?” My words are clipped. Rising anger stings my tone and my calm is hanging on by an unraveling thread now. I reach immediately for Vale’s power that still swirls inside of myself, and I let it loose.

  Bursts of color fill my vision, but the only one I’m paying attention to is the one that spans between Derek and myself. That green snap of energy that thinly connects us. And as it sizzles, I see the underlying golden amber color, and my stomach drops straight out of my body.

  “I said, what I’ve said all along. I made a source of unimaginable power. I made you, Alexa. And it’s time you start acting like it.”

  All the aggression churning inside of me comes pouring out in dangerous energy that covers the sick, retching feeling my stomach is clinging to. It wrecks through already unstable bookcases. The solid wood of the shelves tumble down, clacking against one another as they domino one on top of the other. They hit hard on the back wall, and the wind that tears around me carries books, papers, and lamps. The items rip through the room in a tornado of reckless power and it isn’t until the back wall crumbles away entirely that I realize I’m not alone.

  Bricks thunder down to the first floor in a cacophony of swirling dust and fuming smoke. I don’t have to look back to know the forceful power tearing through the room is a mixture of mine as well as Rory’s.

  The building itself is torn open. Cold winds collide with our mass of intermingling power. It sweeps all around us, the frost-kissed weather chilling our flesh and bones.

  Everything is pure destructive chaos.

  And still, I just stare at the man who says he’s my father.

  It’s a disgusting lie.

  It is.

  I thought I knew who he was. I thought I knew who she was. I thought I knew who I fucking was. If he’s telling the truth, everything about me is a lie.

  But then, it doesn’t matter.

  Bright, white hot electricity strikes past me. The energy sears across Derek's bloody face before he ever sees it coming. Smoke fumes a charred gash along his cheek. A groan sounds through the anarchy and I can barely see Derek’s features as he looks over my shoulder, but I know the moment his eyes lock with Jameson’s.

  And I won’t give him time to react.

  My hand's fist at my sides and I send every ounce of my unleashed power thrashing into his chest. His feet rise off the ground and his body lifts high into the air. My power rages from me into him, and then I pull it back just as quickly as I summoned it forward. And he lands—hard.

  Without missing a beat, Derek’s hand is already raised before he even fully hits the floor.

  Sparking colors of blue and white beam out of his fingertips like a shield of energy. The disk of power grows and takes course, aimed directly at Jameson, and thusly Scarlet. My friend’s jaw is still held tight with anger and vengeance. He barely has time to leap away from the deadly power before it hits.

  Jameson leaps. The gleaming blue and white energy bursts against the far wall. The power crawls over every brick before dissipating.

  I can breathe again.

  A bookshelf, three times my size, lifts itself from the mess of the floor and Rory drops it hard on our attacker. The sound of cracking wood sounds through the space. The clattering wood chips settle ons by one, and then silence drops. My chest heaves as I stare at that spot for a long moment. I refuse to blink. My heart even quiets as I keep my gaze locked on the place where Derek was just standing.

  It’s almost serene. The silence.

  Like the calm before a storm. Or the eye of a hurricane.

  Because then, the room explodes with flying papers and slicing shards of wood. My cheek is slashed in the onslaught of debris as Derek’s translucent body leaps from the floor in a whirl of striking white light.

  Tylin rushes him the moment Derek’s body materializes and solidifies. His roar is deafening as his shoulder collides with Derek's chest, but before he drives him into the ground, our enemy disappears once again, leaving Tylin’s momentum to propel him into the far wall.

  A cold, rough hand grasps my wrist before I ever lay eyes on him. Derek holds me roughly, his eyes blazing with anger and power. Pure, unadulterated energy rises up inside of me.

  I latch onto the essence of his power and pull. There are so many mixed energies pulsing inside of him, but I don’t have time to think about that now. I just siphon his energy with everything in me. I know I can’t hold even a fraction of the power he seems to possess, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try. If I don’t find some way to kill the son of bitch. Father or not.

  And then pain sears through my veins. It's like every single nerve within me is on fire. The world flashes before me. Violent energy tears at my skin. I feel like I’m being shredded piece by piece, limb from limb.

  And then I can breathe again. I blink, the cold air hitting my lungs as I realize we’re at the library door.

  He teleported me. Not far, but he did.

  Before I can even catch my breath, another wave of slicing pain tears through every inch of my body. I think it’s ripping me apart from the inside out. I’m caught in a silent scream. When the world settles once more, I’m downstairs.

  My scream finally materializes as actual sound. My legs give out. Chunks of b
roken concrete tear through my jeans and ruin the skin at my knees until blood runs down into my boots. And still, he pulls me mercilessly.

  “Get. Up.” His biting tone barely registers as he drags me. But I don’t stop pulling at his energy, letting it fill me to the brink.

  Every time I think the pain has reached a new high, I’m wrong.

  Because that soul ripping energy starts right back up.

  The room disappears and I’m falling into crisp white color. Blinding pain radiates through me. Even my fingertips throb.

  I’m already screaming when the night sky comes into focus. I cry out hoarsely at the moon and curse every one of the stars. I’ve never experienced such agony before. Gravel digs into my raw knees. Broken and bent steel support rods grate against my skin as he yanks me farther. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t relent.

  I dig my nails into his wrist, too spent yet shaking with the overflow of energy I hold to even think straight. Primal instincts well within me, and I claw at him like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do.

  I’m alone. In pain. Hope is lost.

  But fuck him if he thinks I’ll go willingly.

  Skin and blood sink into my nails, and I don’t stop until his hand lashes out as he strikes across my face.

  “Stop. Fucking ungrateful woman!” Another snap of his hand stings against my face as he backhands me.

  And then suddenly he releases me.

  I crumple against rough concrete that seems to be a chunk of the roof.

  The sound of rocks grinding against metal fills the night air. My head feels heavy as I look up. The muscles of Mason’s arms flex as his hands tighten around Derek’s throat. A terrifying look of rage fills the sweet dark eyes I love so much. His jaw clenches as does his fingers.

  “Allison, fucking do it.” Mason doesn’t look to the young girl at his side as he continues to strangle the life out of the man with his bare hands.

  With big doe eyes, shining with fear, Allison stares at them.

  I realize then the mistake we made in our plan.

  Allison was always too innocent for the Lifeless League. Even with her deadly, soul wrenching power she’s clearly too innocent to assassinate someone. Least of all her leader.

  Derek’s fingers twitch at his side the meager movement sends a burst of adrenaline right through me.

  There’s no more disappearing. We’re done with that trick.

  My fingers lock around a thin cold object. I shove off the ground. My body lands hard against theirs and my arms swing down even harder. I channel Rory’s power to help move the heavy rod as I hit my mark and lodge a steel bar of rebar right through his chest using all the power I possess. Energy rises and crashes out of me. Lashing lightning strikes down the bar, burning right into him as I pull at the last remaining vestiges of I have of Jameson’s electricity.

  Screams of agony carry into the dark night that surrounds us.

  The light of my power highlights the way his face contorts with pain, and I don’t blink once as I watch his eyes change into pure emptiness.

  That was for me. For my mother. For all the lives he’s ruined with his precious, twisted Lifeless League.

  The energy in me fades; exhaustion takes its place. Mason and I are quiet as we both stare down on him.

  I should feel triumphant. I don’t. All I feel is weak.

  My fingers tremble as I pull the bar from his body with a slick sickening sound. Red coats the bottom of it and I toss it away, letting it clatter to the cold concrete. Mason squeezes my hand hard. I think he does it more to stop my fingers from trembling than to actually calm me.

  We did it.

  We destroyed every single part of the League.

  I almost smile as I look down into Derek’s empty, lifeless eyes.

  Almost.

  Because then his body flickers.

  And then he disappears from right underneath me.

  Thirty-One

  Game On

  Steam billows out of the bathroom as I open the creaking door. I’ve already lingered much longer than I have an excuse for, and by now they’ll know I’m hiding.

  Tylin’s hard gaze falls on mine when I force my focus from the scratched hardwood floors of our loft to take in the four glowering assassins standing in various poses around the loft. I don’t cross the room. Instead, I lean my back against the hard wooden frame that makes up the bathroom door and fold my arms over my chest in challenge.

  My chin tilts up a fraction as I keep my self-righteous air. I have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to feel bad about. I repeat that mantra in my mind as I stare down my fearless leader.

  “Has anyone heard anything from Vale?” It’s a simple question. One I know they will answer. It’s a good start to opening the lines of communication between us. Better yet because it doesn’t draw any focus onto me personally.

  Vale was called as soon as the fight was over. The way his green eyes scanned Scarlet’s prone, still body still haunts me. The flood of emotions I saw on his face coupled with the mixing colors of the thread that twists between the two of them left me with more than a few questions about the status of their relationship. Blue, green, and red tangled together in a confusing mix, but Jameson trusted him enough to allow him to whisk his sister off to be healed by Mars.

  My heart throbs painfully in my chest as I worry about my friend's health, but I hold onto the fact that her chest was rising and falling steadily, if not shallowly.

  I’ve seen Mars heal before. I know he can do it again.

  “She’s responding well to Mars’ healing.” It’s Jameson who answers me, and his voice is tinged with emotion. I know he loves his sister. Seeing her hurt had to be hard on him. I want to move toward him, take him in my arms and offer him comfort. But then the hardened mask clouds his features once more and his golden eyebrows draw together.

  Before anyone can so much as speak a syllable, I throw out another question.

  “And Allison?” She’s not in the loft that I can see, unless she’s resting upstairs.

  “She went home to her parents.” Mason informs me gently, and all my attention snaps to him. Out of all the guys, he’s standing with the least amount of tension and stress.

  “Is she coming back?” She hadn’t even said goodbye, and it hurts to know she just walked out without a thought. I didn’t realize until this very moment how much I want to get to know her.

  She and I are two broken people with more similarities than I ever thought I'd share with a single person.

  And we will find out what happened to our mother. What I thought I knew about her was all wrong. Her memory deserves more than the half truths that I have.

  “She’ll come back when the Anti-League is ready. It won’t be safe for her to simply slip back into her normal life until we know what happens next with the League. Derek may be dead, but there are a massive amount of assassins out there now without any direction. It’s imperative we move quickly. You’ll see her again soon.”

  The words Derek and dead circle on a screaming echo in my mind. The way his body vanished is all I think about lately.

  All those times the women in horror movies think that they're finally rid of the monster that haunts them hits a little too close to home right now.

  I nod and swallow, glad that I’ll see Allison again soon, and torn how she fits into my life.

  But right now, that concern is pushed to the background as I stare down four pissed off assassins, even though some of them are being more polite than others.

  “What the hell was that back there?” Tylin growls, anger flashing in his dark eyes.

  And the inquisition starts.

  “What? Me trying to help all of you?” It’s not the smartest move to sass back at an already pissed off Tylin, but fuck it.

  “It was reckless. And stupid.” He begins to scold, and I bit my lip—hard—as I try to hold my tongue.

  “It was a risk you shouldn’t have taken.” Rory’s deep voice r
umbles through the room gentler than I had given him credit for. Oh, he’s angry with me all right, but he also looks like he understands.

  “I didn’t want any of you to get hurt. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. I wanted to strike first. Weaken him before you all joined in the fight.”

  “And you thought going in alone was the way to do that?” Tylin seethes and scrubs a large hand down his face. His footsteps thud against the hardwood floor as he starts pacing, creating a rhythm as he walks. “What the hell about you? Did it not even cross your mind that he could have killed you? Before we could even fucking move?” The vein in his neck is popping as he grits his teeth, the muscles working under the scruff covered skin of his jaw. He hasn't shaved in weeks and it's really starting to show.

  “Not really, no.” I throw my hands up in exasperation. “All I was thinking about was that I couldn’t let anything happen to the people in my life that I actually give a shit about. I’m sorry that you have a stick up your ass because I didn’t follow your precious rules.”

  “Rules that are in place for a reason!” He turns briskly and starts heading my direction.

  “He wouldn’t have hurt me.” My voice falters under the onslaught of his raw emotions. His face is full of stormy rage, and while I’m not afraid of Tylin, the intensity I see behind his eyes makes me drop my hands from waving in front of me as I push back against his ridiculous argument.

  “No. He has no issue with hurting you. He just won’t fucking kill you. Not the same thing, Alexa.” The rough quality of his voice almost reverberates through me. “And you call this not hurt?” His gaze slides down my body as he takes in the red, scabbed patches on my knees and shins. “What the fuck about this?” The warmth of his palm cupping my cheek feels so good that it’s an actual effort not to allow myself to cave and snuggle into the rough, calloused skin of his hand.

  The deep scrapes on my knees hurt most but I’m not going to mention that right now. Tylin’s thumb smoothes slowly over the darkening bruise that covers my cheek, compliments of the bastard who hit me. The asshole I killed. Uncertainty tinges that thought as I remember again how Derek disappeared right before my eyes. But I take solace in the fact that his chest was obliterated. There was no air gracing his lungs. He wasn’t alive. There was no way he could have survived all of that.