There was another small strip clearing outside the far end of the orchard, but beyond it were more bushes beneath the dining hall windows. Lita considered that a break. After paying all directions a cautious glance, she bolted across that clearing and into those bushes, barely making a rustle. She was quickly slipping back into her old ways.
Rising, she placed a hand on one of the intricate mullioned windows and gave it a push. She frowned when it would not budge. The file had said one of these would be left unlocked. If Jonas had misinformed her, she was going to bloody his face. Sidestepping, she moved to the next one over and tried it. Still nothing. This was fucked. There was no way she could break one of these without attracting guards.
Shaking her head, she stepped over to the third and last window, biting the inside of her cheek worriedly as she pushed on it. It swung open freely and she breathed a sigh of relief. Jonas was lucky.
After silently entering the dining room, she closed the window and crept to the left side of a long oak banquet table. As she pulled her turtleneck down and banished her stocking cap to a pocket, she idly wondered how spending a good number of her younger years crouched down had not left her with a bad back.
Taking in her surroundings, she developed an immediate distaste for this room and wished to exit it as quickly as possible. Besides the fact that the arched, vaulted ceilings reminded her of a cathedral, the combination of acoustics and hardwood floor caused even her gentle footfalls to echo. She hurriedly made her way to the small service door near the back of the room and carefully pulled it open, peering inside first with her gun, then with her eyes.
The service kitchen was vacant, and it took her but a moment to traverse its small space to the door on the other side. She opened this one with the same care as the last.
The glow of the moon through the windows illuminated the kitchen well enough, but did nothing to cast light up into the tight, winding staircase behind this door. She fished out her small flashlight and flicked it on, then slipped into the cramped stairwell and closed the door behind her. Handgun in her left hand, flashlight in her right, she crossed her wrists to turn the beam of light into a moving target. Carefully, she crept up the old wooden steps, aiming her gun high up the whole time.
Lita was by no means claustrophobic. She had spent plenty of time hiding in tight spaces, waiting for just the right moment to spring out and end the life of an assigned target. However, she did not like this stairwell one bit. Had she been detected at any time since her arrival, the guards could have waited to trap her in this spot and come in at her from both sides. She wouldn’t stand a chance.
As she reached the top of the stairs, she shook the notion out of her head. She told herself that no one had seen her, that no one ever saw her. That helped some.
There was light coming from the under the door atop the stairway, so she shut off her flashlight and pocketed it. Leaning against the doorframe, she opened the door just a crack, grateful for its well-oiled hinges as she peered out to see what lay beyond.
The door opened into a second floor hallway, right at a corner junction. To her left, it ran about fifty feet before turning another sharp corner, and she saw no one down that way. Looking to her right, she narrowed her gaze and lowered into a half-crouch as she saw a guard approaching. As Lita watched, he stopped at a door and gave it a knock. A muffled response came from within and the man opened the door halfway, sticking his head inside.
“Just stopping in to say goodnight, Ms. Lamoureux, and to see if you need anything,” the man said.
Lita tightened her grip on her handgun. He was talking to her target, and if she had been a few minutes earlier he would have walked in on them. She had gotten lucky.
“Just for you to call me Amelie, Christopher,” a young voice replied from inside the room.
Christopher chuckled. “Any day now, little miss. You sleep tight.”
She wished him the same and Christopher closed the door, then headed back the way he had come.
Lita waited a moment after he was out of sight around the corner, then gave the other direction another cursory glance before slipping into the hallway. She hurried down to Amelie’s door, trying to keep her footfalls light but quick, feeling exposed out here. Once there, she turned and rested her back on the doorframe, pulling her gun close to her chest. She stole a brief moment to close her eyes, take one deep breath, and give herself a quick nod. When her eyes snapped back open, that familiar cold had settled into her sharp green gaze. She spun around, turned the door handle silently, and crept into the room.
Amelie was sitting at her vanity, her back to the door. She hadn’t heard Lita come in, and her mirror was angled such that it didn’t reflect the door from her vantage point. She just sat there, brushing her shimmering auburn hair, lost in countless thoughts that had nothing to do with her impending assassination.
As Lita fully entered the room, she raised her weapon and narrowed her eyes, aiming both at the back of Amelie’s head. As her finger began to tighten on the trigger, her free hand moved to close the door behind her.
However, some slight error in calculation made her misjudge how hard to push the door, causing it to slam shut with a small bang.
Amelie jumped and spun around, her hand freezing mid-brushstroke. As her eyes landed upon her assigned killer, her mouth fell open.
But she was not the only one. Staring across the room at that young woman, Lita felt her own limbs seize up. Her heart began sprinting in her chest and her gun-wielding hand started to tremble, then lower inch by inch. She took a shuddering breath, and then spoke in the tiniest of whispers.
“…no.”
Amelie lowered her hairbrush to her lap as her shaking lips formed a single word of their own.
“You…” she said, her eyes quivering at the sight of the woman who had murdered her mother.
NINE
I
“If this is a joke, it’s not fucking funny,” Lita said at last.
“I agree,” Amelie said shakily. But what her would-be assassin had just said put her slightly at ease. Had she been intent on following through with the murder, she’d have done it already. She shifted in her seat, turning to better face Lita.
“Stay still,” Lita snapped, raising her gun and taking aim once more.
Amelie did as she was told, but asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you the same question,” Lita replied.
Amelie cocked her head questioningly. “I…live here.”
“No. No no. You live in some little cottage a hundred miles from here. You’re some little farm girl with a—”
“Dead mother?”
Lita shot her a look. “Don’t fuck around with me, kid.”
Amelie sighed. “I used to live in a cottage, years ago. My father sent my mother and me there after he’d received threats against our lives. He thought we’d be safe there. When you ki—” she paused, eyeing Lita. “When she died, he brought me back here.”
Lita lowered her weapon. The girl wasn’t going anywhere. Even so, she went to the door and locked it, then leaned her back against it and looked down thoughtfully. Her eyes darted back and forth as she went over things in her head. Why? Why would Jonas contract her for this job? Why would he think she’d actually do it?
“You didn’t answer my question,” Amelie said after a while.
“The person without the gun usually isn’t allowed to ask any,” Lita said sourly.
“Even if it’s pertinent?” Amelie shot back.
“What is it?”
“Why are you here? Why would—”
The door handle suddenly rattled violently, followed by a loud pound on the door. Lita jumped and spun around.
“Amelie? Amelie, open up!” a voice boomed from outside.
“Christopher!” Amelie gasped and covered her mouth.
Lita took aim at Amelie again. “You say a word and you’re both dead,” she hissed, then backed against the wall next to the door. J
ust as she did, she heard the sound of a key being slid into the handle and watched the latch turn. Christopher barged in right after, a large-caliber revolver in hand. His eyes went to Amelie before he scanned the room. Idiot move, Lita thought.
“Amelie, is everything alr—” He stopped short when a boot to the back of his knee dropped him to a kneel. The next thing he knew, a gun barrel was pressed against his temple and his own weapon was being yanked from his grasp.
“Get over by her. Stay on the floor. Move slowly,” Lita said as she took a step back and closed the door with her foot. Guns in both hands now, she aimed one at each of them.
“Who the hell are you?” Christopher demanded as he moved to rise. Amalie started from her chair towards him as well.
A startling pop and the splintering sound of a bullet lodging into the front of Amelie’s vanity just six inches to her left silenced them both.
“Does nobody fucking listen in this house?” Lita barked. “You, big guy, stay on the fucking floor and go sit by her. You, little shit, stay in your goddamn seat. And both of you shut the fuck up for a minute.”
They both did as they were told, Christopher rubbing Amelie’s arm and giving her a reassuring nod. Lita stuffed Christopher’s revolver into her belt but kept her own weapon trained on them as she went back to leaning against the door.
“Okay,” Lita said after a time, “I think everyone in this room can agree that this situation is fucked. So let’s try to straighten some shit out. How much you two help with that will determine whether or not you walk away from this, understood?” Amelie nodded, but Christopher gave no response. He only stared at Lita, and she knew he was waiting for his chance to act.
Lita looked to Amelie. “Five years ago, I killed your mother.” Christopher blinked, looking up to the young woman as well, but she just nodded solemnly. “It wasn’t anything personal. I was just doing my job. I didn’t know a damn thing about you two. Hell, I didn’t even know your age, let alone that you were the Daughter of Chicane.”
“Alright,” Amelie said, “I get you. That’s why you took this job. You didn’t know I was the same girl.”
“Right, but it doesn’t make any fucking sense. Why would someone hire a hitter to do a job they had already botched?”
“Maybe your employer didn’t know,” Amelie suggested.
Lita shook her head. “If my employer is who I think it is, he knew damn well.”
Amelie quirked a brow. “You don’t know who hired you?”
“Didn’t ask,” Lita said matter-of-factly.
“Assassins don’t ask questions,” Christopher said with a scowl. “All they care about is the money. The rest is just details.”
Lita turned her gun on him. “I don’t remember saying a goddamn thing to you.”
Amelie was fiddling with a lock of her hair as she stared thoughtfully at the floor. Suddenly, her eyes snapped up. “What if you were set up?”
Lita glanced to her, then back to Christopher. “That’s an excellent point. One that brings me to you. What exactly made you come barging in here?”
“I’m not telling you anything,” Christopher said. “And why are you helping her, Amelie? This woman murdered your mother, and she was sent here to kill you.”
Amelie touched Christopher’s arm. “Yes, but if you haven’t noticed, she hasn’t yet. Nor did she years ago when she had the chance.”
“And that makes it okay to help her?” he whispered forcefully.
“‘Judge not lest ye be judged’, Christopher. Jesus himself said to forgive those who know not what they are doing. This woman is clearly lost and our guidance may help her find her way.”
They both looked to Lita, who was staring at them incredulously. “Is the prayer circle over, or did you two want to sing a few hymns? I need an answer to my question. Now.”
Christopher stared at Lita for a long moment, then finally said, “A guard came to me and said he had seen an intruder entering the east dining hall window. I came to secure Amelie while he went to guard her stepbrother. Hardly conspiratorial.”
“Oh?” Lita said doubtfully. “So is that your standard procedure for guards who see someone breaking into the place? Don’t try to stop them, don’t sound any alarms, just come looking for you to report personally?”
Christopher cleared his throat. “No. They are trained to engage the threat and make as much noise as possible.”
“Uh huh,” Lita went on. “And this guard, was he assigned to watch that particular area of the palace tonight?”
“No, actually,” Christopher said, his brow furrowing. “He’s the head of Michael’s entourage.”
“Henrik?” Amelie asked. Christopher nodded.
“Who’s Michael?” Lita pressed.
“Sorry, Michael Calderwood. Amelie’s stepbrother.” Christopher said.
“Right,” Lita went on. “So this Henrik guy comes to you out of the blue to warn you that I’m here and you come running straight here without wondering why it went down that way. I’m gonna go ahead and guess that was probably a pretty predictable move on your part, right? You see where I’m going with this, big guy?”
Christopher nodded gravely. “And there’s no way Henrik is behind this. He’s a good guard, but not very bright. Which mean only one thing.”
“Fuck,” Lita whispered, rubbing her temple with her free hand.
“What? What does it mean?” Amelie asked.
“It means Michael is the one who put a price on your head. Only he could have ordered Henrik to watch that window knowing that she’d be coming through it,” Christopher explained. “Then Henrik sent me to kill the assassin before she got out. No loose ends, no investigation, and no one to pay.”
Lita, pacing now, kicked the bedpost. “God dammit!”
“You’d do well to keep it down,” Christopher warned, “I didn’t alert any other guards, but there are some posted nearby.”
Lita sighed and began to chew on the inside of her cheek. Her weapon was lowered now.
Christopher turned his attention to Amelie, who was staring down at her hands, her eyes trembling. He placed a comforting hand on her knee. “I know this is frightening,” he said softly, “but now is not the time to be afraid. You’re not safe here. We have to get you away, then work things out from there.”
“B-But, there’s no telling how many guards are loyal to Michael. How can I get away without…” Amelie suddenly looked to Lita. “You! You can take me with you!”
“What?” Lita and Christopher said in unison.
“You got in here without anyone noticing, right? You can get me out just the same.” Amelie’s eyes pleaded with Lita, but she was unmoved.
“Fuck that. I’m the hell out of here.” She turned toward the door.
“You leave that way, you’ll hit guards. The rounds are due to come by here any minute.” Christopher said. Lita stopped, sighing as she looked back their way. Christopher turned to Amelie. “What are you talking about? What makes you think you can trust this woman?”
“Christopher, who I can and can’t trust has just been completely turned upside down. The two things I know about her are that she’s deadly and that she won’t kill me. I’d say that works out in my favor, wouldn’t you?”
He considered this for a moment, then they both turned their eyes to Lita.
“It’s not fucking happening,” she said.
“Then I suppose you have another way to get out of here?” Christopher asked.
“I could just shoot you and hold her hostage.”
“You really think you’d get very far?”
“Farther than having a scrawny little girl holding me back.”
“I could pay you,” Amelie chimed in.
Lita scoffed. “Oh? Should I send Daddy a bill?”
Amelie narrowed her eyes and suddenly rose to her feet. Lita raised her gun defensively, but the young woman stood her ground. “Now you listen to me. My father is in poor health and will pass any day. Who do you think the p
ower of this city goes to when that happens? Would you rather the Lady of Chicane owe you a favor or be enraged that you left her for dead?” Christopher blinked in surprise and looked to Lita, trying to suppress the grin that wanted to turn up on his face.
Lita chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully as she stared at Amelie, teetering on the verge of decisive action.
“I remember saving your life,” Amelie added quietly.
Lita sighed heavily. “I can take you as far as a couple of people who might be more interested in helping you. That’s it. Now put on some dark clothes and move your ass.”
Without hesitation, Amelie bolted for her closet.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Lita muttered, then looked to Christopher. “So are you going to do anything to facilitate this or just sit there on your ass?”
Christopher pushed himself to his feet. “I’m not sure which way you came into town, but we need to get you out of here without any checkpoint guards seeing you.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?” Lita asked.
“Head west from the palace until you reach Stonewall Road, about a quarter of a mile from the checkpoint. Turn left. As you go along, the road will get closer to the tree line. Once you reach a bridge, take a left off the road and it’ll loop around and underneath, then lead you onto a path into the woods. It’s almost impossible to see from the road, but it’s there. That path will let you out about a mile up Maple City Highway. Just keep your headlights off in the forest until you’re well clear of the city.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Lita said, nodding, “but that assumes I can get the two of us out of the palace.”
“I can send the guards in the wrong direction, buy you some time and a clear path.”
“What about the ones loyal to her brother? Will they go for that?”
Christopher sighed. “They will if it looks like you attacked me and took off with her. I’ll need you to—”
The Crimes of Orphans Page 13