Save Me in the End

by Rea Winters

  “Oh really? That’s a bit troubling. We’re fine, thankfully. I hadn’t even noticed what with all the commotion out there and in here.” She chuckled, maintaining a perfect easy-going smile.

  “We apologize again for any inconvenience. We rarely experience system breakdowns after the storms, but rarely isn’t never,” he said in a singsong.

  “It’s quite all right.”

  “Will you and Ms. Pryce still be joining us for a tour of the reception hall?”

  "Certainly. Would tomorrow morning be all right? I know it’s short notice, but we'll be out on the town all day today, last minute shopping for me, business meetings for her. The usual.”

  "Yes, of course. Ms. Pryce did mention last week that there may be some slight changes of plan over the course of this busy weekend. Not to worry. We will see you tomorrow morning.”

  "Thank you."

  After closing the door, Rosie’s façade melted along with the last bit of her nerve as she leaned against the wood and took a long deep breath, letting the props fall to the floor. Xara turned off the shower and came to the middle of the room.

  "That was—oof!" She had begun to praise her quick thinking, but found her words cut off when Rosie crashed into her in a crushing hug.

  Xara enclosed her arms around her girl as their racing hearts found each other’s rhythm and began to beat in sync. A semblance of peace enveloped them like a warm blanket in the cold storm that was this hellish misadventure. The assassin looked down at the heiress and she up at her. Without words, they knew what the other wanted and declared with a single kiss that whatever came next was worth fighting or losing to have it.

  19.

  A seabird’s sharp squawk jolted Perry Pryce from her slumber. The pungent stench of raw seafood and saltwater cleared her grogginess in seconds. She blinked and as tears filled her dry eyes, the towering figure of a lanky woman came into view. Confused, she shook her head and tried to move her arms and legs with no success. She moaned through the bitter cloth gag in her mouth and twisted her wrists and ankles against the ropes binding them to a chair. Her forearm began to sting and burn, alerting her to the IV protruding from her vein, just as the draft hitting her nether region made her sorely aware that she was in nothing but a hospital gown.

  She flinched at the screech of metal legs scrapping against the floor. The tall skinny figure sat on a stool across the little fold-out table between them. She wore a black ski mask, a dark thermal sweater, oversized rubber pants, and a dark skullcap to match. But apparently wasn’t bothered about the flaming ginger braid hanging over shoulder like a snake. In one of her hands was a curved blade for gutting big fish and in the other, the slate she was using to sharpen it in quick even strokes.

  "Hayden Industries. Rings a bell, right?” The tone of her scratchy Irish voice remained indifferent, perhaps even slightly annoyed if not just utterly bored. The stranger decided to take Perry’s wide-eyed stare as a yes and went on.

  "Welp, it’s like this. Some people high up the food chain over there asked me to have a little chat with you about some things."

  The stranger placed the blade down, then opened up the folders on the table. Folders with files and pictures stapled inside of them. “Let’s see what we got here. Bribery, drugs, solicitation of underaged prostitutes and victims of sex trafficking, and uh…oh, a handful of dinner dates with convicted—supposedly reformed—embezzlers, your treat. Look familiar?”

  Perry jerked against the ropes and bargained for her life through a series of groans and muffled swearing.

  “I thought so. Needless to say, whatever plans you had about using a certain someone's inheritance to fund your new business ventures - they're over."

  The stranger slid that file off to the side, opened the one next to it, then placed her blade next to the pen on top of the first page. Perry’s heart dropped, her nails scratching at the armrests as tears formed in her eyes. Her mystery captor grabbed a thermos from the floor by her feet and took a couple sips.

  "Uh, looks like you've got two options here,” the Irish fisher continued, scratching her neck. “Smart or stupid. My advice? Save us both the trouble, hey? Don’t be stupid."

  20.

  Red and white candles lining cobblestone walls bathed the small church in a warm golden hue.

  Fastening the blazer buttons of her all-black suit, Xara smoothed out her red tie and knelt. With cold holy water coating her fingertips, she crossed herself from chest to head and across the shoulders, then walked down the stony aisle to the confessional. On the outside, her stride was smooth and her expression neutral as she kept her gaze straight ahead. But inside was another story.

  Hanson stood in front of the confessional like a guard. Knowing her better than anyone, he patted Xara on the shoulder to ease the unnoticeable clench of her jaw and the hammering of her heart. The young assassin appreciated the gesture, though it did very little. She knew her handler wasn't there for moral support and his only job wasn't to guard the door. She knew that Hanson was prepared to either drive her back to the airport or help discard her body. And which duty he would be given depended solely on whatever decision was minutes from being made.

  Xara entered the confessional and bent at the knees facing a dark window. Though she couldn't see it, she knew there was a gun with a silencer aimed at her heart on the other side of the thin panel wall. The screen through which a priest would speak to his parishioners was darker than normal, blackened by thicker netting to keep invisible even the silhouette of those who sat in the power seat.

  Still, the deep and worldly voice of Upstairs came through loud and clear. The physical man behind the screen was only one of a few, or perhaps many, who represented the vigilantes of yesteryear who founded The Order. Though they had been briefed on the situation, Xara was still required to report the events in person before a final verdict was made.

  "Knight of Vengeance.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you end anyone it was not your design to end?"

  "No, sir."

  "Did any bystanders come to witness any incriminating behavior?"

  "No, sir. No innocents met their ends on this job, not even the one I was hired to end."

  "Innocent. Is this why you did not do as you were contracted? You believed your charge, Miss Roselyn Hayden, to be innocent?"

  Hearing her name roll off the tongue of a superior made Xara’s heart drop, but she solidified her nerve and spoke her truth.

  "To end her…it would've been to end a part of myself."

  A long silence followed her declaration and the knots in her chest grew ever tighter.

  "You love her."

  Open acknowledgment of that conclusion caught her by surprise. "I do, sir."

  "Do you trust her?"

  "With my life. As she trusted me with hers. She won’t expose my past and she knows nothing about The Order to expose."

  "Should your faith in that ever change, you know what you must do?"

  Xara balled her fists. "I do, sir."

  "For your sake, I pray it does not come to that."

  Another surprise, which caused her fingers to slowly uncurl from her palm. "You do, sir?"

  "Our hearts are not made of rock. You are not the first to stray from The Order because your soul became consumed by another flame; a sweet and calming flicker that calms the deep-seated fury which rages within us all. Though you broke several rules, it was due to your miraculous show of restraint where it most counted that your unauthorized decisions did not endanger us. Though we empathize with the soul's call to love, it is purely by the grace of that restraint and the disasters avoided because of it that your story will not have the ending you fear."

  Xara paused, holding back a sigh as waves of relief rolled through her stiff body.

  "The Rookery has addressed your Perry Pryce problem. Pryce will be monitored until we are most certain she will not be a liability. Should the day come that we declare her such, you will be summoned to end her yours
elf as a final act of fealty and atonement.”

  "Understood, sir."

  "Compensation for the resources used to tie up these unsanctioned loose ends has been taken from your reserve. Remaining funds have been transferred into a temporary account. Your handler will provide you the details."

  "Understood, sir."

  A black card with a large white dot in its center slipped through a slot under the screened off window.

  "Xara Lemieux Mercer. You are hereby released from Knightage to The Order."

  The young assassin accepted the paper and tapped the circle to her forehead.

  "It ends with us," she recited.

  "With us, it ends," Upstairs finished.

  Leaving the church, Xara's stride slightly quickened as her collar soaked up the beads of sweat rolling down her neck. Only when the thick double doors closed behind her and a gust of crisp autumn air hit her face could she freely breathe.

  "That wasn't so hard, was it?" Hanson asked with an amused half-grin. He stood cool as a cucumber with his hands tucked in his pocket, admiring the serene forest before them and the midnight sky above.

  "So, you’ve proven me wrong, ey? For now, at least. What's next, boyo?"

  Only one thing came to Xara's mind and it put her rattled nerves right at ease.

  Epilogue

  Country: Orelancia, The United Regions

  Region: Jameshire (NE)

  State: Furst York

  Province: Aerie

  City: Wildir

  Date: May 2018 LR

  Aromas of cinnamon and glazed apples wafted through the sunny May air. The movers put the last pieces of furniture and boxes of decorative knickknacks in the appropriate places. As reward, they received iced tea and freshly baked dessert while they rested.

  Dressed down in shorts and a plaid button up, Rosie tied her long curls up in a tail, then assisted a temporary staff of maids with the light labor of adorning bare walls with decorations and adding sheets to all the beds as the day toiled on into late evening.

  The estate she had grown up in was a place of cold and terrible memories, a prim and proper prison. She hadn't wasted more than a week behind those walls when she returned; packed up as much as she could carry, invited Nani to join her, and found them a temporary stay until she could finalize a new home.

  Nearly a year later, she had secured that new home thousands of miles away from the old one on the eastern side of the country. It was a haven of her own design, purchased with her rightful inheritance after it was returned to her sole possession. And she wouldn’t have the vast land all to herself, either, nor would the one she escaped go to waste. With the help of a team of lawyers, she had successfully petitioned the state to convert her old property into a Support Shelter for impoverished families. In another year’s time, she would start the process again to see her new home secured as a haven for orphaned children.

  "And just where are you headed at this hour, little miss?" Nani asked. She came in carrying Rosie’s dinner, only to find the lady of the house smoothing out the hips of a flowy maroon dress and securing a matching headband over her luscious flowing hair.

  Squaring her shoulders, Rosie proudly announced. "I have a date."

  "Ah, I see. Is it with the mystery ladda you meet on the island? The one who has been sending you the letters?"

  The official story was that Perry had dumped Rosie the night before their rehearsal dinner, went on a trip overseas and didn't come back for weeks. Broken up Rosie had to cancel all the plans at the hotel and apologize to the few attendees who had flown in early for the wedding all by herself.

  To recover from the humiliation, she took a plane to a Canadian island and stayed there for a month. In that month, Perry had resigned as Proxy Chairman of the late Senior Hayden’s corporation and removed herself as his daughter’s conservator, allowing the heiress to properly restart her life upon her return.

  After being told the full truth about Pryce, Nani hadn't been surprised that Rosie was happy to be free of the brute. Though, her grandmotherly intuition had also sensed something extra about the unusual amount of confidence and optimism the younger girl displayed. So, Rosie had fed her a little white lie about meeting a nice strong woman on the island who inspired her; who helped her realize being alone was nothing to fear. Not long after, letters from the island began to show up in the mail and Rosie’s nights became much less restless.

  "Good for you, dearie. You look lovely."

  Nani pecked her on the cheek, helped fasten her mother's necklace around her neck, then headed back to the door with the dinner tray in hand. "I won't wait up," she teased with a wink at Rosie's reflection.

  The heiress sat on the edge of the bed to fasten on her shoes, then paused to admire a framed photo of her mother, father, and herself as a little girl perched on the nightstand. A gentle smile came to her lips.

  "We made it,” she told them.

  "Rosie!" Nani called up. "Your driver is here!”

  Rosie slipped on a leather jacket that was two sizes too big for her and headed out, biting her bottom lip as she grinned.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  "Enjoying your fresh start, Miss Rosie?" The driver asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror between turns.

  "I am. Soon, I'll be entering a new world – the corporate one. I've spent the past eight months taking tours of all my father's buildings, visiting labs, reading a thousand-word examinations until my eyes crossed. It hasn't been easy – in fact, it's been downright nerve-wracking and yet...I'm as excited about it as a girl at her first amusement park."

  "Is there no one you can trust to guide you?"

  "There are a few. They're all members of the Board, people who have expressed the utmost respect for my father's legacy and excitement over their own contributions. Some have eagerly offered to act as my new Proxy, to make decisions on my behalf, but I declined. Even though change still frightens me and I feel as if I have so much life to catch up on, I don’t want anyone speaking for me anymore just to make things feel easier. I want to trust people, to be able to ask for help when need be, but not be solely reliant on anyone ever again. That's the balance I'm striving for. Not everyone believes I’m fit enough for the task, but I aim to prove them wrong. And perhaps, silence my own doubts, as well.”

  "How inspiring."

  Rosie caught the driver's eye in the rearview mirror and pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. The car rolled to a stop in the parking lot of a roller-skating rink and the driver got out first to open her door.

  "My lady."

  The heiress accepted the driver’s hand, though not without rolling her eyes, and then removed the hat from her head.

  "Hey, my disguise," Xara protested with a chuckle.

  "You don't need one," Rosie said. She stood up on her toes and blessed her knight with a kiss on the cheek, then straightened her wavy tousled hair with the gentle comb of her fingers. Xara kissed her hand, then took hold of it and walked her inside.

  The building was empty, but the skating floor already lit by a swirling pattern of white spherical lights as slow and romantic doo-wop music played from the DJ-less booth above.

  "I couldn't decide between roller skating or the prom for our next reclaiming adventure.”

  Rosie chuckled. "I love it.”

  Xara held her close as they swayed in the center of it all. As the first song faded into the second, Rosie raised her head from Xara’s chest and looked her in the eyes, working up the courage to ask a very important question.

  "Did we cause a lot of trouble for them?"

  "No. You have nothing to worry about."

  "I'm not worried about me."

  The ex-assassin flashed a gentle smile. "I joined The Order to be an officer of balance. It's a principle The Order lives by, one I believed in, but also a sense I always lacked inside myself, like most of us do. Until the day you found me and the moment I decided to never let you go. Those above, they understood this. Understood me." Xara pau
sed, brushing Rosie’s cheek with her thumb. "There is no more need to worry. I promise."

  Her touch and the fierce sincerity of her gaze set the small girl’s heart ablaze, melting those last vestiges of fear inside her. She returned her head to Xara’s chest, to feel their hearts beat as one as they danced the night away.

  "You love me,” she declared.

  “You love me, too.”

  The End

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  Author Note

  If it’s not obvious by now (she says jokingly), the story you just finished takes place in an alternate reality (alternate universe) where queer things like homosexuality, fluidity in gender expression, and sex changes are completely a part of the norm. This is due to homosexuals and genderqueers from different backgrounds playing major roles in the rebellions and revolutions that liberated the land over the course of a Fifty-Year War.

  This detail is basically what gave birth to this unapologetically homo-fied world inside my head, but despite my research and extensive notes on the worldbuilding, I don’t trust myself to write proper historical war fiction with an alternate twist, so I decided to fast forward to modern day and just tell love stories about different complicated individuals who grew up in this world.

  This tale is the first of many contemporary lesbian/wlw dramas to be told in Orelancia. My aim is to create a lot of queer-leading fiction in a queer-led world one story at a time.