Raven

by Heather Atkinson

  The overwhelming urge to get out of the house descended on her, to escape the scent of Aidan still on the bed and his presence, which permeated every room.

  Throwing aside the duvet, she leapt up, pulled on her clothes, jacket and walking boots and set out across the moor, half-stumbling as tears filled her eyes. The isolation that she so loved about the moors became overpowering, the pain of loneliness filling her heart. Why had she allowed herself to believe that this time they might actually be able to remain together? It had only made their separation so much harder.

  She kept walking until the barn had disappeared altogether, where there was nothing around her but moorland, not a person or building in sight, which only made her feel even worse. What did she have left to look forward to except waiting for the phone to ring, to hear his voice? That was it. There was nothing else.

  She was drawn to a massive outcrop of sandstone that had stood here for thousands of years, etched into what appeared to be a face by the unrelenting weather on the moor. Raven stood atop it, gazing down at the steep drop, which she calculated must be at least fifty feet onto the jagged rocks below. In her pain and loneliness, those rocks reaching up to her looked almost welcoming. Was here somewhere she belonged?

  She stretched out her arms, the breeze picking up, whipping her hair about her face, her tears falling freely, dripping onto the ancient stone. Slowly she took another step towards the edge, then another. Just a few more steps and the pain would stop…

  A caw drew her attention skywards and she looked up to see the ravens above her. They flew in a straight line across the chasm, to the other side where stood a figure, coat swirling about him in the breeze, tousling his dark hair.

  “Aidan,” she breathed.

  They were too far away to talk but her phone beeped. Pulling it out of her pocket, a message popped up on the screen.

  ‘Don’t you fucking dare. I only survive my time away by knowing you’re here, in our home. Now get out there and show them who they’re fucking with.’

  Raven smiled and brushed away her tears, the pain draining out of her as she realised she was never alone.

  Taking one last look at that dark figure across the chasm, she trudged back to the house. Looking back over her shoulder she saw he was still there, watching, making sure she didn’t do anything stupid.

  Her phone beeped and she opened up a message, on which was a single love heart. When she turned back round, he was gone. Despite her pain, his words had filled her with fire. Enough feeling sorry for herself. There were a couple of people who needed teaching a lesson.

  Marcus sat in the office of his pub, swigging whisky. Raven was coming for him, of that he had no doubt. The anticipation was the worst, wondering when. She was a subtle woman so he was fully expecting a stealth attack at night when he was in the shower or asleep, not that he’d managed to get much sleep lately wondering when she was going to finish him off. At least here he was safe with his men in the main bar. Raven wasn’t the type to make a full-on assault. Still, this knowledge did nothing to ease his nerves.

  He went rigid, the glass halfway to his lips when he heard yelling from the bar. No, she wouldn’t, it wasn’t Raven’s style. But he wasn’t about to take any chances. He leapt up and ran for the back door, frantically yanking at it but it wouldn’t budge.

  “Help,” he yelled, bashing his fists against it as the noises in the bar grew in ferocity.

  Raven stood outside Marcus’s pub, glaring at the frontage, psyching herself up. She’d been watching the pub since it opened and knew there were no more than seven men inside, plus a couple of regulars who were part of the local underworld but who would give her no trouble. It was now or never. She’d already padlocked the back door shut from the outside so Marcus, the little worm, wouldn’t be able to escape that way.

  Pulling on her sunglasses, she stepped inside, counting seven of Marcus’s thugs ranged about the room. The barman - who she recognised as Jamie, Ginger’s lover - made eight. Judging by the way he regarded her with horror, he remembered her. No doubt he thought she was here to reveal his dirty secret.

  The chatter died away, the men regarding her with hostile glares. The two men who weren’t employed by Marcus attempted to slip past her to the door. Raven was gratified when they looked to her for permission to go through it. It seemed her reputation was back on the up.

  “On you go,” she said.

  They nodded their thanks and shot out the door, Raven bolting it behind them.

  She turned back to face the seven men, who were gathering together to attack her in one group. “Sorry about this boys.”

  She threw down one of One Eye’s devices. There was a blinding flash when it hit the floor and the seven men recoiled, hands clamped to their eyes, squealing in pain. This device was a little different to the previous ones One Eye had made as its effects were permanent.

  Striding across the room, she shoved two of the blinded men aside, who fell to the floor, groping for assistance, all calling for help. She turned to look at the barman, who had crouched behind the bar, only the top of his head visible. “Jamie?”

  “Yes,” he squeaked.

  “You want to be with Ginger?”

  He glanced nervously at Marcus’s office door before nodding.

  “Then you’ll be pleased to know her husband won’t be coming home tonight.”

  Jamie beamed, ducking back down behind the bar when she produced a gun from her pocket.

  Taking aim at the office door, she shot the lock off, the door pinging open, stalking inside to find Marcus frantically rooting around in his desk drawer for a gun.

  “You don’t keep weapons here, remember?” said Raven before firing, the bullet silently embedding itself in his right arm.

  Marcus fell back into his chair, hand clamped over the wound, blood trickling through his fingers.

  “You’ve been very stupid,” she said, closing the door behind her.

  “So have you,” he glowered. “My men will be in here any second to tear you apart.”

  “Your men won’t be able to find the door.”

  “What have you done to them?”

  “Blinded them,” she said casually.

  “Blinded? That’s despicable.”

  “So you think it would be better if I’d killed them?”

  “Yes…no…I don’t know, that’s just fucking cold and sneaky.”

  “I’m an assassin. Everything I do is sneaky. What I did to them is better than what I’m going to do to you. And I can’t have them coming after me in retaliation.” She cocked her head to one side. “Why did you do it? I would have left you alone if you’d left me alone.”

  “You would have come for me eventually. My rivals are closing in, they want my guns. They would have hired you to kill me.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Course they would. You’re number one in the city, they would have turned to you.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not but we’ll never know because you’re going to die here and now. I’m not going to enjoy this.”

  “Liar.”

  “Alright, maybe a little, but only because you’ve put me to so much trouble.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why isn’t Aidan here?” He chuckled when her face turned to stone. “Don’t tell me he left again? Can’t stand to be around you for long, can he?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “It’s exactly like that. He came back to dig you out of the shit then he left before you got on his tits. I bet you’re a right fucking harpy to live with.”

  “Coming from the man engaged to Ginger.”

  “At least I like spending time with her but Aidan can’t wait to get away from you… Jesus,” he cried when she shot him in the other arm.

  “Finished stalling for time?”

  “You’re a fucking bitch.”

  “You never were very original Marcus.”

  “Well go on then, get on with it.”

  “You’re not getting a
way with it that easily,” she said, shoving the gun into her coat pocket.

  “Lost your bottle?”

  “You sound hopeful Marcus. No, I haven’t. I’m going to make an example of you.”

  Marcus thought of the example that had been made of Dexter and swallowed hard.

  She produced the knife from her pocket, a slow smile stretching her lips. “Brace yourself Marcus. This is going to hurt.”

  Patrick waited for the lift to appear in the lobby of the office block he owned. Usually coming to this vast glass and steel edifice with all its security made him feel powerful, invincible. But not today. His instinct was telling him something was wrong, that his normally neat and orderly world was about to be shaken.

  The lift door pinged open and he stepped inside.

  “Pull yourself together,” he told himself when unease crept up his spine. He was alone and that made him feel vulnerable. Why hadn’t he brought a security guard with him? Because he didn’t want to look weak and afraid, that was why.

  He was grateful for the distraction when his phone beeped. Taking it out of his jacket pocket he saw he had a message.

  “Jesus,” he gasped when the most appalling thing he’d ever seen popped up on his screen. Who he thought was Marcus Moore was sprawled in a chair, head lolling backwards, sightless eyes gazing up at the ceiling in horror, face splattered with blood, throat cut wide open and what appeared to be his innards poking out of his stomach.

  Patrick stared at the horrific image, mesmerised, his stomach churning. It wasn’t so much the fact that Marcus had been killed that was so horrible but rather that the whole thing was so damn messy. He hoped someone had cleaned it up by now.

  His phone pinged again and his hand shook slightly as he opened the second message.

  This is what happens to people who fuck with me.

  When the lift doors opened on the fourth floor and two men got in, he shoved the phone back in his pocket, feeling queasy. Although no name had accompanied the message he knew it was from Raven. He’d allowed himself to forget he was playing with fire with that one because she was so pretty. He’d forgotten that beneath the very pleasing exterior beat the heart of a killer. He hadn’t messed with her, not really, not like Marcus had, which was why he supposed he was still walking around with his insides where they belonged.

  “Are you okay Sir?” asked one of the two men. He looked vaguely familiar and Patrick was aware he was one of his employees, but he had no idea what his name was or his position in the company.

  “Fine,” he replied, straightening his tie. He stared at the man until he looked down at his shoes. Patrick smiled inwardly. Even when he was afraid he was still able to make other people afraid, which was very gratifying.

  When the lift came to a halt the two men scurried out, leaving Patrick to his thoughts as it continued its ascent.

  The doors didn’t open again until his floor and he stepped out into the silent hallway, coming to a halt when he saw a figure clad in a long black coat and heavy black boots lying in wait. Immediately he turned to get back in the lift, but the doors had already slid shut, the lift descending. He jabbed at the button but nothing happened.

  “I get the feeling you don’t want to talk to me,” said Raven.

  He turned back round to face her, putting on his most charming smile. “I always look forward to seeing you Raven.”

  “Not today. I wonder why?”

  “Alright, I admit I am a little nervous but that’s what happens when people send me disturbing images.”

  “So you got my message then? Excellent. In that case, we can dispense with the preliminaries. Fortunately for you, Jeremy said you were nothing really to do with setting me up, although you did toy with the idea. And your contacts did come in very useful, which is why you’re still alive.”

  “So why are you here? You going to beat me up because you might be unaware of the fact that I’ve been taking karate lessons from a very proficient instructor…oof,” he grunted when she slammed her fist into his stomach.

  Patrick crumpled to his knees, attempting to catch his breath and failing. When she knelt before him and reached into the depths of one of her pockets, he flinched, making her smile.

  “I think it’s the first time I’ve seen you truly nervous Patrick.”

  Her smirk infuriated him. “I…am…not…nervous.”

  “Yes you are.” She produced a small airtight tub and opened it, the stench making him flinch.

  “What…?” he gasped, unable to get out any more words.

  “You mean what’s this?” she said, wafting it before his face. “This is a piece of liver. Marcus’s liver to be precise.”

  Patrick gagged, forcing himself to swallow the bile back down.

  “The liver is a big organ,” she continued, her voice cold and clinical. “I couldn’t fit it all in the tub, so I just took a piece. It’s not like he’ll be needing it anymore. I’m no doctor but it didn’t look too healthy to me. I suppose that’s what comes from spending all your time in a pub.”

  “You…you’re sick.”

  “Yes I am sick Patrick. Sick of men thinking they can mess me about because I’m a woman. Jeremy and Marcus learnt the error of their ways. Now I need to know that you have too.”

  “There’s nothing for me to learn because I didn’t do anything to you. I’m an innocent pawn. For God’s sake, I was arrested.”

  “And you know full well with all your power and influence you’d never be locked up for long.”

  “I was nothing to do with it Raven, I swear. Please put that tub away.” Its disgusting juices had coated the inside of the plastic and he was unable to bear the sheer messiness. All he could think about was putting it in a dishwasher to make it clean.

  With a smile she put the lid on and slipped it back into her pocket. Patrick was almost relieved when she took out a knife instead. That was preferable to pieces of dead Marcus.

  “Alright, I believe you.”

  “Thank you,” he said shakily.

  “Marcus told me about the special item he acquired for you. He held out at first but it’s amazing what someone will give up when you’re pulling out their intestines.”

  Patrick grimaced. “There’s something wrong with you.”

  “Perhaps. You wanted to produce your own secret little poison, so you wouldn’t have to hire me anymore. It seems Rottweiler, one of Pitbull’s men, was actually a very talented chemist. Sadly not as talented as the chemist who makes my potions because he couldn’t produce anything untraceable, which is why you continued to use my services. I played right into Marcus’s hands when I asked him for a target to lure out my rival. Pitbull had wanted to be number one for a long time, so he set Jeremy up to take out Terry, conveniently providing himself with a scapegoat in the form of myself. In return, Pitbull was going to provide Marcus with back-up against his rivals.”

  “Alright, I admit wanting my own little poison but then I realised how wrong I was. I never betrayed you. When they approached me, I refused.”

  “But you failed to warn me. If you had, I could have taken care of this long ago.”

  “I thought you would kill me.”

  “I wouldn’t. I would have been grateful to you. But I’m considering killing you now.”

  He swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t dare. My death would be investigated. The police already know we have a connection. You’d be their first suspect.”

  “You’re right of course. I don’t want to kill you Patrick, we’ve always worked well together. But if I ever suspect you’re plotting against me, I won’t ask any questions. The first you’ll know about it is when I’m slitting your throat. I’m back on top in this city. It’s not those with the power who count, it’s the ones willing to get their hands dirty to help men like you keep their power who matter. Without people like me, you’re nothing. You’d be wise to bear that in mind.”

  His gaze was cold. “I won’t forget.”

  “Then we shouldn’t have a pr
oblem.” The knife vanished into the depths of her coat and she got to her feet. “See you soon Patrick,” she added before disappearing through the door leading to the stairs.

  Patrick attempted to get to his feet, groaning when his stomach ached, so he remained on the floor.

  The door to his secretary’s office opened and Karen wandered out clutching a mug. “What are you doing down there Sir?”

  “I felt a bit…sick,” he said, blanching when he thought of Marcus’s liver in the tub.

  “Can I get you anything? I was just going to make myself a cup of tea.”

  “No thanks, I’ll be fine,” he said, hauling himself to his feet, standing tall and straight despite the ache in his belly.

  “You do look awfully pale.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he snapped, smoothing out his scowl when her eyes widened. “I apologise Karen.”

  She melted immediately. “That’s quite alright Sir. We all get a bit tetchy when we’re unwell.”

  “You’re very gracious. Actually, a cup of peppermint tea would be divine right now.”

  “I’ll get it right away Sir.”

  “You’re an angel,” he said, relieved when she finally left him alone.

  Patrick limped into his office and sank into the large, comfortable leather chair, stroking his tender stomach. It said a lot for how hard Raven could punch that he was still hurting. His ego had taken a battering lately, what with being a murder suspect, getting arrested and spending the night in prison. Those things his wealth and influence could overcome but Raven’s visit had shaken him to the core. A professional assassin hell-bent on revenge he could not stop. She’d shown him today how easy it was for her to get around his security and if she could get in here she could get into his home, at night, when he was asleep and vulnerable. Was it wrong that in a sick and twisted way he found that a turn on? But if Raven Gallagher did ever decide to break into his home at night, the last thing on her mind would be sex. She would make good on her threat to slit his throat and she would get away with it because she was a ghost and after today, she was back on top.