Assassins: Target

by J Chen

  “Where is she? Who has her? Did you send that disgusting message to my family, or was it your people?”

  I tried to gather as much information from his words and the situation as possible, noting that he must be someone important to Genevieve, maybe family or some type of bodyguard. She had been taken so suddenly that I had barely gotten a glimpse of the perpetrators; but a single detail remained steadfast in my mind.

  “Where is she?”

  He growled again and I forced my right eye open, watching as his fist reared back in order to take another hit.

  “Wait! Wait! The men who took her...they...there was a tattoo on the right wrist of one of them! A fist gripping a dagger and veiled with a thin black cloth. The work was intricate. I've...I've never seen anything like it!”

  It had been a lie, because I had in fact seen it once before, but the man released me immediately and stepped back, and the confusion on his face was clear. I struggled to my feet again, and only then did I become aware of the way he was dressed: his face and body cloaked in the dark clothing atypical to any garb worn by the locals. His eyes were a stunning, swirling green; and I felt myself shake slightly at the intensity in them that was directed towards me.

  “Why did he let you live?”

  I was confused at the question, but remembered that after Genevieve had been taken, the man stood over me with a weapon drawn, but an unexpected procession of royal guards had come marching down the road before he could strike. I had been able to scurry away from him, falling face first into the ditch as he growled after me, the anger in his eyes at being unable to take my life something I would never forget. Was this the man they had now sent in order to finish the job?

  He was built like a tank, tall and solid and fast; his body language making it very clear that I shouldn't dare to so much as move another muscle. As I watched his eyes carefully, I felt a strange tingle that began at the base of my neck and traveled down my spine, causing me to shiver involuntarily as he took a sudden unsteady step away from me.

  What the hell was that?

  Before I could open my mouth his hand came flying out again, striking me in the temple as the world around me went black. It was moments later that I awakened; though now we were off the roadway and underneath a cobbled bridge, the smell from the filthy water that I lay in making me gag as I struggled to a kneeling position.

  "I'm going to ask you a few simple questions, and you are going to answer them, Varga."

  So, he knew who I was, though I couldn't even see him. I knew his voice was coming from just behind me and to my right; leaving an opening just ahead of me that I contemplated fleeing through, just as his blade touched my neck.

  "Don't even think about it. I'll drop you before the sunlight touches your face."

  I swallowed thickly, fear beginning to creep into my psyche as he cut me slightly, only to pull the blade back and plunge it into my side, just below the rib cage. I bit down a yell, my teeth drawing blood as he twisted the knife slightly, sending a shock of pain throughout my entire body. The tingle was suddenly gone, obliterated by the waves of pain that pulsed from the wound, and I was absolutely certain that I was about to die.

  “Where is she, Varga? What was all this talk about sending her back a small piece at a time? If you hurt a single hair on her head-”

  He struck me again, the world swimming as I finally came to terms with the position I was in. I was going to die here under the dirty bridge, my corpse left in the excrement filled water to be consumed by the rats that owned the city's underworld. At least, I surmised, I would see my family again soon, but the fear of the pain to come made me want to cry and cower.

  But I wasn't raised to be a coward. I had not shied away from the death's of my parents, and I would not shy away from my own. My only regret was having lost Genevieve, but something in me told me that the man who had captured me wanted her safe return as badly as I did. I just had to try to convince him to trust me.

  “Genevieve...please, we have to find her.”

  I looked up at him with pleading eyes, and it was then that he pulled the cloth away from his head, revealing a face that, under different circumstances, would have made me stare openly and far longer than what would be considered appropriate. His face was strikingly similar to Genevieve's, from the chiseled cheekbones and striking eyes, though he was much more masculine than she, with his unshaven face and strong jaw He was the very same man from my sensual dream hours earlier, though I had never seen him before and could not explain how my mind and body seemed to know him so well.

  He had to be Genevieve's older brother, Octavian. I had heard so much about him from his sister, and I could easily see how the two were related as I watched his movements in the shadows. Just like her brother, Genevieve had been cunning, ruthless, and dangerous; the fact of which did not deter her peers from flocking to her side, myself included.

  Even if I hadn't been repeatedly warned against a friendship with the daughter of the great leader of the Romanian Dragos clan by my late father and his herald, Luca, I would have found myself at her beck and call; though failing in my duty to protect her proved all the more painful as the girl had grown very dear to my heart, despite our forbidden friendship.

  “I will not ask again.”

  He was intimidating, certainly, but I sensed underneath his anger that his desire for the truth would be my key to survival. I tried to remain calm, but the pain had faded from where the knife was still plunged into my side, and the tingle that ran along my spine had returned. I was unnerved at the strangeness of what I was feeling: even as he threatened to kill me, I only wanted Octavian to come closer.

  “I don't know who took her! I told you everything I know, believe me! Please, I can help you find her! I want to help!”

  I was near tears, choked by the emotion of losing the one person who understood me, and certain that I would die before getting a chance to save her. I tried to dig through my memory for more clues, suddenly remembering the strange merchant that had been watching her far too closely. If we could only return to the market...

  “There was a peddler at the market, and he was watching her far too closely for it not to be related to her kidnapping. He had a scar across his face, from above his left eye to the bottom right side of his chin. I had never seen him there before, and he stood out to me in the crowds even before we passed him by.”

  Some sort of recognition dawned in Octavian's face and he snarled in the dark, lashing out at the piles of debris that had been discarded around us. I winced as a wooden box flew just past my face, though it was nothing compared to a moment later when Octavian returned to my side, his hand on the hilt of the dagger he had plunged into my side.

  “One twist and you're dead, Varga. You've already told me what I needed to know, and I have no further use for you. Vivat, Dragos!”

  I could feel his grip tighten around the weapon as he made his war cry, and realizing my final moments were upon me, I let out a final, whispered prayer to the wind, hoping it would carry my words to my dearest friend, wherever she was.

  “Please forgive me for losing you, Genevieve. I will find a way to watch over you, my friend.”

  I bowed my head as I waited for him to finish me, but his hand wavered and I sensed a moment of hesitation. The tingle flared for a moment, and my eyes were drawn to his; and he remained still, the dagger poised to strike but his breathing coming in short pants.

  He was watching me closely, and I was reminded of the dream in which he came to me, his clothed body momentarily replaced by the beautiful, naked version of him that had come to me as a lover in my own mind. My body reacted unexpectedly, and increasing my embarrassment, Octavian certainly noticed.

  I was not bound, and I contemplating pulling my own dagger free and ending him, but what then would become of his sister? I remained silent and hopeful instead, my eyes never leaving his and my ears focusing on the sudden sound of approaching footsteps, but I knew it was far too late to call out for he
lp now, as it would only get someone else killed.

  Without warning, Octavian removed the dagger from my side with a tug and silenced my cry with a finger pressed tightly against his lips; his green eyes boring into me and daring me to make a sound. The pain was flaring again, but there was something desperate in his eyes that forced the connection between us to remain. He was worried, but he didn't want it to show as he pushed me further into the shadows and approached the unwelcome arrival.

  “Is it done, Dragos?”

  A voice called from just beyond the overhead bridge, and Octavian moved forward with purpose as the bloodied dagger hung low at his side. I could not see the other man from where I was, but something about his voice unnerved me.

  “It's done. Let's move.”

  I could hear Octavian's retreating footsteps as they echoed away from me, though the stranger's own did not follow him. Instead I heard them venture further under the bridge where I still knelt, silently, but in full view if he were to move forward but a few more steps.

  “Let's move, Marius.”

  There was no mistaking the authority in Octavian's voice, and the man who had previously disobeyed moved quickly to catch up to him, their retreating footsteps fading as I released my breath and contemplated my next move. I knew I had to find my way back home, where my friend Luca was waiting and would no doubt know exactly what it was I needed to do.

  ~~

  Chapter 2

  The pain from my side was less than I expected, and I was able to move fairly quickly through the streets, though I was careful as I made my way back home; covering and retracing my footsteps as I tried to avoid anyone who might follow. Finally arriving home at some point close to midnight, I entered the expansive grounds, only to be greeted unexpectedly by Luca; the older man staring towards the door as I arrived, as if he knew I would enter.

  Though Luca was only my senior by two years and had been my friend for nearly a lifetime, the older man's body had been toned and developed in a way that made me feel a pang of jealousy, though I was quick to tamp down the other, nameless emotion that tried to bubble to the surface every time I was in his presence. He was shirtless as he approached, having been training in the courtyard before my arrival and concern was written all over his face.

  “What in the devil happened to you, Laszlo? Are you alright?”

  Luca rushed to my side as I shrugged him off, limping the final way into the house and collapsing in the kitchen as the fear of what had happened that evening finally caught up with me. I reached to my side to where the dagger had been, pulling the fabric away to reveal the flesh had completely healed, though the blood that stained my clothing let me know I had not been imagining things.

  “I don't understand. I was stabbed...”

  Luca did not seem surprised in the slightest, but before I could question him, he spoke.

  “You are able to heal, Laszlo. You haven't ever had a need to find out until now. Please tell me what happened, my friend.”

  I looked at Luca with a blank expression on my face, wondering if I had heard him correctly, but knowing I was running out of time.

  “Genevieve Dragos...she was taken by the Brotherhood, I'm certain of it. One of the men had a tattoo on his wrist, one that I've seen before in father's books. The Black Book, to be precise. Luca, I know I wasn't supposed to be with her, but its only by chance I escaped with my life!”

  Luca's face went pale at my confession, but he still helped me to my feet, knowing he wasn't going to stop me from tracking down everything I could on the men who took my Genevieve. He helped me to the Library, and to my father's desk; left untouched save for Mathilde's careful weekly cleanings, the old woman certain Andres would return home any day now, despite what everyone else had told us.

  Despite the fingers we had received in the post.

  I shuddered as I took the key from the pocket at my left breast; the brass heavy and cool as I placed it in the lock and turned the latch. Pulling the book from the drawer carefully, I shared a look with Luca before using the key again, though this time to open the latch that held the book bound tightly and away from prying eyes.

  I had done this a hundred times before, but each time I had read through the thickly bound volume, I had believed the tales within to be stories and fairy tales. Tales about men shifting into wolves; of wars fought in secret between near feral warriors; of Assassins and Kings. Stories about fated connections and undying loves. Stranger stories about sex rituals and coupling rights that seemed animalistic in nature. I had never thought I would be searching through the book for something I had seen with my own two eyes.

  Luca turned from me, but I knew I needed his help.

  “I need you to stay with me on this Luca. I need your help to save her.”

  He gritted his teeth and a strange rumbling sound began to emanate from his throat, though it was quickly gone and replaced with a frustrated grunt. I could tell he did not like Genevieve, but my families insistence on avoiding her never made any sense to me.

  “Help me understand Luca! Why does my family hate her so much? Why do you?”

  The question caught him off guard, and he stuttered as he watched me carefully. I could see the way his throat worked as he swallowed thickly, and his eyes darted away from mine as if he were trying to hide something.

  “Her life is at stake, Luca. Please.”

  Luca's face went blank, but there was a strange air about him, as if his tumultuous emotions were writhing just beneath the surface, threatening to break free. He was angry, though determined to see me through whatever trials I might face. I could always count on Luca, even when his honesty was an unwelcome seed of doubt that made me question everything I had ever known.

  “Is it? Or is that what she wants you to believe? Genevieve was not to be trusted for a reason, Laszlo! Her family, the war, this shaky, untrustworthy alliance; I never believed in any of it, but for your father's sake and his desire to end the fighting, I did as I was told. Look where it got him. I will not risk losing you to the same family your father mistakenly put his trust in.”

  Just what the hell did he mean by that?

  “I've told you a hundred times that the Dragos Clan are not to be trusted. The Black Book holds all the secrets you seek, Laszlo.”

  I was pissed that Luca was dismissing what had happened so lightly.

  “A book of stories isn't what I need, or are you trying to tell me that her brother Octavian was mistaken in believing her in danger as well? He blamed me, Luca!”

  Luca bristled at the mention of the Assassin, and a darkness came over his face as I spoke.

  “You faced Octavian? You faced him and lived?”

  I was confused at his fear and anger, though both were clear to me as his emotions came at me in slight waves. Though they were not as clear as the emotions I sensed from Octavian, I was aware that the feelings were not my own. Something was happening to me that I could not explain, but I had no time to dwell on that now. Genevieve needed my help.

  “He couldn't take my life. There was...something stopping him. I can't quite explain it, but it was almost like a connection between us. My soul felt drawn to him in a way I couldn't ignore. I dreamed of him hours before he arrived and accosted me, and my body needed him in ways that were almost embarrassing. Not to mention inappropriate. I was being tortured by him, for God's sake. What is this, Luca?”

  I blushed at my admission, unable to ignore it now that I had put it in words. Luca, for his part, looked broken, though he only let his vulnerability show for a fraction of a second. When he spoke again, he was quiet and would not meet my eyes.

  “Why has your soul chosen the enemy, Laszlo? Why does it not call for your brethren? For the ones who would die for you instead?”

  I didn't know how to answer him, but in that moment I knew that Luca wished I had chosen him instead. My mind went back to our lives together, intertwined from the beginning as Luca's own father had been Andras Varga's Beta; similar, yet different to
the way my own mother had been. It had been expected that, despite the end of The Hammer, Luca would always remain by my side.

  I did not quite know what that meant as a child, but I wondered now at the closeness between my father and his. Could it have been more than friendship? Was that what Luca had expected to happen between us? His eyes never left mine despite the silent way in which I regarded him, so much on the tip of my tongue that I wanted to say, but he spoke before I could.”

  “I would have loved you, Laszlo. I would have been at your side even if you had chosen someone else. But this...a Dragos? You have no idea the pain and torment they have caused everyone around you. Please, think carefully on this. Once the two of you have mated, there will be no coming back from the rifts it will cause in your life.”

  Luca was pained at the thought of Octavian and I being intimate, and I could no longer look at him. Instead I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that it was him, my lifelong friend, who came to me in the dark instead. His naked body was wholly different from the Romanian's, but it excited me just the same.

  I held no doubt in my mind that Luca would have loved me, but every fiber of my being nearly screamed for Octavian, a dangerous man whom I had just met. Opening my eyes again, it was to Luca's concerned one's, bringing me back to the present situation and the danger Genevieve was in.

  “I need to know more, Luca. I need to find a way to save her.”

  “Read the book, Laszlo. Read it carefully. There is so much more truth within those words than I can ever show you. Just know that the Dragos Clan...they are our enemy. Now and Forever. Even if she were in danger, Genevieve's fight is not, and should not, be our own.”

  Luca stepped away, his head bowed in respect of the secrets that were not meant for him, though I desperately wanted, no, needed his help. I would not betray my father his one rule, however, and set out to find my answers alone as he had instructed. The Black Book was for Andras, and beyond that, only me. Opening the pages of the book and flipping through carefully, I stopped suddenly as I recognized the image on the page, the hand gripping a dagger, and draped in a thin veil of black.