Killer

by Francine Pascal

  Of course, that all changed when Gaia discovered that Mary had a coke habit. Mary wasn’t the happy-go-lucky, carefree girl Gaia had thought she was but a troubled addict struggling with demons Gaia couldn’t even begin to imagine. But with Gaia’s help, Mary vowed to give up cocaine. And she would have, too—if it weren’t for Skizz, her old drug dealer.

  If it weren’t for me, Gaia thought, swallowing.

  Skizz had hounded Mary over an old drug debt, threatening her life. And in turn, Gaia had hunted Skizz down and beat him so fiercely, she nearly killed him. She should have killed him. Not killing him had been a big mistake. Because Skizz retaliated by hiring an assassin to kill Mary. It happened in the park. Gaia and Ed had only been a few yards away when Mary was shot. She’d died in Gaia’s arms.

  Every single day Gaia had to battle with the painful memories of losing Mary—the things she should have done differently to keep her alive. Every single day Gaia dreamed about how different her life would be if Mary were still around. Sometimes she got pissed at Mary. Other times she just felt sorry for herself.

  And now ... now she just felt rage.

  Yes, the numbness began to fade, replaced by a stinging mixture of anger and grief. The winter air was very cold, but her skin was hot. That deathly figure in the doorway wasjust another Skizz—a vampire that sucked the blood of the living. A foul creature who enslaved poor kids like Mary and these two idiots who’d robbed the blind guy. Gaia broke into a sprint.

  It was too late to do anything for Mary. But it wasn’t too late for these two.

  Almost there . . .

  Before any of them could react, Gaia barreled between the boy and the girl and hurled herself at the drug dealer, raising her left leg in a powerful jump kick. The dealer’s dead eyes widened. His thin blue lips twitched in surprise as Gaia lifted herself off the ground. The next instant the bottom of her boot made solid contact with the underside of the drug dealer’s chin. His skull smacked against the back of the brownstone’s door. His jaw went slack. He crumpled in a heap on the stoop. Gaia landed on top of him and nearly fell down. She grabbed the door frame to keep her balance, breathing heavily, filling the air with frozen white vapor.

  The kids just stared at her.

  For a moment the three of them were silent. Gaia glanced down at the dealer. He was out cold but breathing. A thin trickle of blood dribbled down his chin.

  “What the hell did you do that for?” the boy cried, still holding the bag. He thrust his finger at the dealer’s pallid face. “You could have killed him!”

  Gaia shook her head, gasping for breath. Luckily a single jump kick wasn’t enough to drain her completely—unlike an extended combat. “You’re getting mixed up in some bad stuff,” she managed to choke out. “And you don’t even know it.”

  The girl’s face twisted in sneering contempt. “How do you know?”

  “I’ve seen people get killed over it,” she shot back.

  “Over Pokémon cards?” the girl demanded.

  Gaia blinked. What the—

  Without thinking, she snatched the paper bag out of the boy’s hands and peered inside. Holy shit. Part of her wanted to laugh. Another, much larger and more irritated part wanted to scream.

  And there was a third part, too . . . the part that suddenly felt very sick and ashamed that she had knocked a guy cold over ten brand-new packs of Pokémon cards.

  “Well . . . well, how was I supposed to know?” Gaia sputtered. She shoved the bag back in the kid’s hands. “I mean, why did you buy them from him?”

  As if trying to answer, the guy on the ground moaned.

  “He gets them wholesale,” the boy spat, as if Gaia were the biggest idiot on the planet. “Bigger profit margin.”

  Gaia realized something at that moment. Ella was probably meeting Sam at the restaurant right now, and here she was talking about the finer points of Pokémon trading with a couple of kids. Which meant that the boy was right. She was the biggest idiot on the planet.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you stole money from that guy at the farmers’ market.”

  The boy snorted. “He doesn’t even know it’s gone.” “ I know it’s gone,” Gaia growled. “So if you don’t want to end up like your friend here, you better put that money back in the guitar case by the end of the day.”

  He smirked, but she could see the fear in his face. She wasn’t surprised. New York City kids always tried to act a thousand times tougher than they really were.

  “And if we don’t?” he asked.

  “Then I’m coming after you both.” Gaia stared him down. “I’ll find you. And if you don’t believe me, you should. I never lie.”

  The girl rolled her eyes and grabbed the boy’s sleeve. “Come on,” she said with a groan. “Let’s put it back right now. We got the cards, anyway.”

  For a few seconds Gaia stood on the stoop, watching as the kids trudged back to the farmers’ market. She didn’t even know what to feel. Embarrassed? Sorry? Pissed? Maybe she shouldn’t try to think about it. She’d done her good deed for the day. It was time to move on.

  IF THERE WAS ONE THING PEARL hated, it was causing a scene.

  Enemies

  She was beginning to see why Loki wanted this foolish woman dead. Oh, yes. People at the restaurant were starting to stare. And who could blame them? Here was Ella, slumped over a glass of red wine at one o’clock in the afternoon, bawling like an infant. “I’m so tired of being who I am,” she kept sobbing. “I’m so tired of pretending. I just want to erase it all and start again. Can I do that? Can I start over?”

  No, Pearl answered silently. But I can certainly put you out of your misery.

  It was a shame, really. When they’d first met, Pearl had to admit: She’d been intrigued by Ella. Of course, professionalism prevented her from ever feeling anything more than mild contempt for her victims. But she could at least appreciate Ella’s beauty. That is, when the woman’s mascara wasn’t running. Pearl leaned away from her in the small booth. It was time to finish this job. She reached into her Prada handbag and pulled out a clean tissue.

  “Shhh,” she soothed in a whispery, seductive voice. “It’s okay—”

  “I want to be just like you,” Ella blubbered.

  As if, Pearl thought, struggling not to sneer. Now the situation was getting out of hand. People might overhear this. “I think you’d better go to the ladies’ room and clean up your face,” she murmured with a perfectly plastic smile. “We wouldn’t want your college friend to see you looking like a raccoon.”

  Ella nodded, sniffling like a sulky little girl. A few stray teardrops fell on Pearl’s boiled wool jacket as Ella clumsily maneuvered out of the booth and fled to the bathroom. It took every ounce of Pearl’s strength not to lash out at her. Loki might have been upset that Pearl had botched the first attempt, but she’d make damn sure he paid for the dry cleaning.

  Others in their profession trembled before the mighty Loki. Not Pearl. She trembled before no one. No terrorist could ever instill fear in her. Terrorists, too, were clouded by emotion. Pearl was sublimely void of feelings or attachments. Except to money, of course. She allowed herself a quick smile. And that was what made her such a success. She could be out of the country and in a dozen places with numbered bank accounts before Loki ever tried to extract some misguided revenge for failure.

  Not that she had any intention of failing. Last time was nothing more than an unfortunate aberration.

  Once Ella was completely out of sight, Pearl reached for the antique hair comb tucked into her French twist: an exquisite, sterling silver piece with three prongs and a fan across the top. In the center was a large pearl. It covered a hidden compartment. The comb had served her well over the years by not only being incredibly convenient but also adding just the right touch of class in the right circumstances.

  Style was paramount.

  Loki appreciated style, too, of course. He had that going for him.


  Pearl tilted the comb over the wineglass and pressed the clasp. She took an instant to scan the restaurant. Nobody was looking in her direction. The pearl swung open, spilling an ultrafine white powder into Ella’s wine. It was a perfect poison. Its recipe was over a thousand years old, in fact, developed in the kuji-kiri school of ninjitsu: tasteless, odorless, completely untraceable, and highly toxic. After one sip the victim’s veins and arteries began to swell—severely choking off the blood supply until a vein or artery burst. In other words, the symptoms mimicked an aneurysm. Exactly. And there was no way to prove otherwise.

  Pearl took out her cell phone and dialed Loki’s number.

  “Is she dead yet?” he asked immediately.

  She decided to ignore his poor manners. “In about ten minutes,” she whispered.

  “Make it five,” he ordered. The line went dead.

  SAM GLANCED AT HIS REFLECTION in the glass doors of La Focaccia and smoothed a few windblown ginger-colored curls away from his face. He looked okay, didn’t he? Relatively calm? His heart was pounding so loud that he was certain Gaia would be able to hear it.

  Bogus Message

  Relax, he ordered himself. He had to keep a cool head. He should look at this encounter . . . well, like the way he looked at all potentially dangerous or stressful situations: like a game of chess. He had an opportunity here. He had to strike first. He had to make things right with Gaia. Period. Failure was not an option. He took a deep breath and marched through the door.

  Inside, the restaurant was filled with stuffed shirts and other stodgy business types . . . but there was no sign of that gorgeous blond tangle of hair. His heart continued to rattle. So she’s a little late, he told himself. No reason to panic just yet. It was to be expected. Gaia wasn’t exactly the sort of person whose life was ruled by timetables.

  The hostess greeted him with a cool smile. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m meeting a friend,” Sam said.

  The woman’s eyes seemed to narrow. “Is your name Sam Moon?”

  He blinked in surprise. “Uh ... yeah.”

  “Your friend is already here,” she said with a smile. “Right this way.”

  A faint sigh of relief escaped Sam’s throat as he snaked his way through the tables. He didn’t want to admit it, but for a minute there ... no. It didn’t matter.

  The hostess motioned toward the back corner of the room. “Right over there, in the booth.”

  Sam’s eyes followed her direction. Then he gasped. His legs nearly gave out from under him. He was suddenly paralyzed, turned to ice.

  No, no, no . . .

  It wasn’t Gaia in the booth. It was Ella— easing herself down beside some well-dressed blond woman who looked like she’d materialized right out of the society pages.

  He whirled to face the hostess. But she was already gone.

  This was impossible. What was Ella doing here? Had she tricked him somehow? She must have. She must have used Gaia’s account to send him a bogus message. . . . His mouth went dry. His throat burned. He felt like his stomach had been drop-kicked down an elevator shaft. In a way, he should have seen this coming. Ella was capable of anything.

  Anything—

  All at once, his rage vanished. It was replaced instantaneously by a chill of terror.

  Ella was capable of anything.

  Which meant that Gaia could have sent the message. But Ella had somehow found out about it. And decided to do something about it.

  I have to get out of here. . . . Sam backed away slowly against the wall, avoiding any sudden movement that might attract her attention. Sweat poured down his back. His shirt stuck to his skin. Memories flashed through his mind of the bar he had gone to just before the new year. The bar where he had met Ella for the first time. If only he could’ve lived that night over again . . .

  Gaia might be in some kind of danger. Now. Because of that. It was absurd, insane.

  For Christ’s sake, the whole ridiculous chain of events started when Sam heard that Heather had cheated on him with Charlie Salita. How crazy was that? He could barely even remember what Heather looked like. Even then he knew he was in love with Gaia and not Heather. But his ego had been bruised. So he went to the park to play a little speed chess with Zolov and get his mind off things. That’s when Zolov told him Gaia was in love with him....

  And that’s when Ella entered his life. She’d answered his phone call. She’d told him that Gaia was out with her boyfriend. And when he’d idiotically decided to drown his sorrow in a bottle of vodka, that mysterious redhead had appeared before him. Looking beautiful. Seductive. She’d brought him back to a hotel room and—

  “Mr. Moon, are you all right? Did you not see the booth?”

  Sam flinched. The hostess had returned. He shook his head violently, unable to speak.

  All at once the hostess smiled. “Oh, I get it,” she whispered. She winked at him. “This is a blind date, isn’t it? I bet you don’t even know what she looks like. I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear about which table was yours. Here, let me show you.”

  This couldn’t be happening. It was some bad comedy gone awry, some nightmare from which he would awake in a matter of seconds. He had to make a run for it. Yes, if he bolted out of the restaurant, he would surely wake up....

  But at that moment Ella looked up and greeted him with a carnivorous grin.

  “That’s your table,” the hostess said brightly, pushing him forward. “Enjoy.”

  Not One, But Two

  “WELL, WELL, WELL,” ELLA MURMURED, her eyes roving up and down every inch of Sam’s body. He’d actually dressed up for the occasion. Amazing. He was wearing khakis, a pressed shirt, a jacket, even. He wasbeyond sexy; he was priceless. Even more amazing was that the emotional breakdown she’d just experienced was already forgotten—a thing of the past, a trivial episode to be swept under the rug. Sam was here. All was right in the world. She didn’t even want to finish her wine. There was no need. She didn’t want to be numb. She wanted to be wide awake, here, in the moment.

  But . . . why did he look so upset? He kept staring at his shoes. He wouldn’t even sit.

  “He is delicious,” Pearl whispered shamelessly.

  Ella nodded. It pleased her that Pearl approved of her choice. It vindicated her. She cleared her throat and made some room for him. “Sam, this is my friend Pearl. She just stopped by to say hello.”

  Sam didn’t respond. He stood as rigid as a sign-post. Maybe he was feeling shy. Who could blame him, though? Here he was, confronted not by one but by two beautiful women. Older women. Sophisticated women. Every boy’s dream. Anyway, after dealing with Loki’s aggressive, arrogant personality for so many years, shyness in a man was definitely a turn-on.

  Pearl slid out of the booth and stood. “Pleased to meet you, Sam,” she said with a polite smile. She extended a hand. “I was just leaving, actually,” she said, sneaking Ella a quick wink.

  Sam didn’t take Pearl’s hand. In fact, he stared at it as if it were some kind of poisonous snake.

  Hmmm. Ella frowned. Her initial contentment was beginning to falter. Why was he acting so weird? This wasn’t shyness. This was rudeness.

  “Maybe you two should have some wine,” Pearl suggested teasingly, nodding toward Ella’s glass. “A little merlot might help break the ice.” She blew Ella a kiss and headed toward the exit. “Bye, dear.”

  Ella waved. “I’ll call you soon....”

  Pearl gave Sam one last glance over her shoulder. “Nice meeting you, Sam,” she called.

  He didn’t say a word.

  Okay—clearly something was very wrong. She grabbed Sam by the wrist and tugged him down into the booth. “What’s the matter with you?”

  That seemed to break the spell. Finally. Sam fixed her with a hard stare.

  “Where’s Gaia?” he demanded.

  What? Ella’s face shriveled in disgust. What did she have to do with anything? Mentioning Gaia’s name to start the conversation was more than a littl
e surprising—considering he was the one who arranged this rendezvous to begin with. She reached for her wine, then suddenly slammed it back on the table, overcome by anger.

  “Nowhere near here,” she spat. “I can assure you.”

  “Then where?” His voice was flat, his gaze unblinking.

  “I have no idea, Sam,” she stated, desperately struggling to control herself. “Gone.”

  “What did you do with her?”

  Ella’s eyes blazed. “Not a damn thing. Gaia skipped town this morning of her own free will.” The words rolled off her tongue. She was surprised at the pleasure she could take at seeing Sam’s hurt expression. But he’d get over it soon enough. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she was on her way out of the country by now,” she added.

  He swallowed. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You want proof?” Ella laughed without humor, then draped her arm around his neck. She could feel his muscles tense. She ignored the rebuff. “Her room’s all cleaned out, and her stuff is all gone,” she whispered in his ear. “I scared that girl so badly, she’s probably halfway across the Atlantic. I don’t know why you’re all hung up on her, anyway—we’re here to talk about you and me. Trust me, Sam. It’s just us now. We’re free.”

  drinking that wine

  It was funny how fear suddenly disappeared when you had nothing else to lose.

  SO HERE THEY WERE. IN THE FLESH. Just as she’d always envisioned.

  Mission of Pain

  Gaia couldn’t believe how much this actually hurt.

  Her insides churned, bathed in bitter acid. She knew she would confront this very scene. She knew it. Sam and Ella—together. Those four words had been branded upon every moment of her consciousness like a neon sign that was never turned off. But somehow to actually see Ella’s slimy tentacles wrapped around him . . . it wasn’t just revolting. It was a scene that approached grossness of astronomical proportions.

  Gaia’s chest rose and fell quickly. Her pulse increased. A lump welled in her throat. She’d never be able to forget this. She knew it. Even seconds ago a tiny and irrational part of her had been clinging to the wild hope that this could have all been some huge misunderstanding. That the e-mails were somehow fake. That Ella had made everything up. But no. God . . . what she wouldn’t give to trade fearlessness for an inability to love. At least being fearless had a few perks. Falling in love never paid off. Ever.