The Price of Life

by T. M. Nienaber

  The mistress was sound asleep, picture of her soon to be ex-married-lover facing the bed. It was sad the man had been the one to get to Miriel first. The assassin was convinced she would have had much more fun killing him. Apparently he was ending things because his wife was dying of cancer, or maybe it was the dog that had cancer and he was just a dick. Miriel had to admit she wasn’t paying attention to the explanation he, and most of her other clients, felt inclined to give. She used to, but it was too difficult to be both the judge and the paid off executioner. Once she got a name and cash she tuned the rest out. The woman stirred in her sleep as Miriel was pondering. The assassin paused for another second to entertain the thought she was burned out with her job, but brushed the thought off. Maybe she was just getting old. Miriel sighed, shrugged, and turned her attention back to her job. The girl was now resettled and peacefully out of it. Time for Miriel to get back to work. Daydreaming could wait for the walk back home.

  This kill was trickier than most, it required some presentation. Miriel couldn’t just kill her and leave because only one person would have a reason for wanting her dead. The lover was always the one the cops went to first, especially if the lover was married, and he would definitely give up the hired gun if brought in for questioning. Any staged suicide would be tricky because the girl would have to be restrained and that would be easy for even the simplest of cops to figure out. So few options and so little time.

  Miriel looked around the studio apartment for something lethal. It wasn’t a good business strategy to ‘wing it’ with this kind of work but it was so routine the assassin couldn’t bring herself to plan beforehand or worry over it now. Sort of like a teacher who’s gotten so use to teaching the same lessons over and over again she stops planning and just shows up ready to go with it. Not that the teacher would end up with a classroom of dead students, but you could always hope.

  It didn’t take long to see where it was. Almost everyone has a vice that can be used to kill them and it looked like the mistress was no different. Morphine, almost certainly gotten illegally -- unless it was the mistress who had cancer, Miriel really needed to start listening -- and a syringe were laid out on what Miriel assumed was supposed to be a kitchen table. Too perfect.

  It was easy after that. Miriel had been faking overdoses long enough to know, just by looking at the mark, what the smallest possible lethal dose would be. Miriel filled up the syringe and injected the toxin into the sleeping victim, who didn’t wake up. Once administered Miriel waited until the breathing slowed to a stop then wrapped the woman’s arms around the picture of her former lover. Miriel made sure to leave the needle in her arm, an overdose victim wouldn’t have had the chance to clean up after death. It was quick, painless, and simple. Not even five o’clock and work was done for the day.

  Miriel swung out the window onto the fire escape and started her walk home. She remembered when she used to shake so badly after a job she had to sit for hours on some deserted park bench before she could think about walking home. Miriel looked down at her hands now. Nothing. She thought that must be the kind of revelation most people find unsettling, but all she felt now was hunger and boredom. It was amazing the change time and repetition could work in people.

  The street was deserted now. Most of the joggers had finished their round of this neighborhood and were moving to designated paths in parks and subdivisions. There were a few cars on the road but most of the drivers were concentrating so hard on staying awake behind the wheel while juggling coffee cups and breakfast sandwiches they didn’t notice the lone pedestrian.

  Miriel made it back to her apartment without any suspicious looks or annoying pangs of conscious. As she walked through her door she was overwhelmed by the smell of garlic and onions. Not that it was an unpleasant smell to come home to, but it was unexpected.

  “You can’t possibly be making omelets, Lucian.” His near death turn-arounds always freaked her out more than his actually looking like he was about to die. There was a time Miriel thought she’d imagined him stumbling onto her couch looking like he’d just gotten back from the front, what front she wasn’t sure, it just seemed like an expression that fit. It happened so often after the first time she had to start believing it. There was a lot about Lucian she had to get used to but his recovery time was almost as bizarre as how he got so beaten up in the first place.

  “Sit.” He handed her a plate and shoved her towards the table. “How was work?”

  “Someone died. But it’s all worth it knowing I have such a wonderful house wife to come home to.” Miriel glared, as if that way of looking at him would give her some sort of new insight. It didn’t.

  “Always a plus when it’s them and not you.” He ignored the house wife comment. “We need to talk about tonight.”

  “What about it.” Miriel became instantly disinterested with the conversation. Too much work talk already for this early in the morning.

  “I know Kristopher’s contacted you for another meeting. I don’t want you to go.”

  Miriel raised an eyebrow in disbelief, part of her wondering if some of the damage from whatever Lucian’s night included had left him partially insane.

  “Please don’t argue with me, Mi. I know what Kristopher wants. I don’t think it’s a bad idea, not necessarily, but he doesn’t get to use you as leverage. So you’ll stay here.”

  “Like hell I will.” Miriel kept her voice level but her eyes were quickly filling with anger. “I don’t need protecting. You’ve never treated me like this before, and --” Miriel was cut off before she could finish whatever rant she was starting.

  “Then shouldn’t that tell you just what kind of threat Kristopher really is?” Lucian looked at her hard, not blinking until he felt things were starting to sink in.

  “You get to reimburse me then. Kristopher might be a creep in your book but he pays well in mine.” Miriel got up and took the omelet to her bedroom and shut the door. She’d had no intention of meeting Kristopher since the day Lucian recognized him. Some things you don’t get involved in and Lucian’s insane excuse for a religion was one of those things.

  Lucian let out something like a sigh of relief. He would meet with Kristopher but not the way Kristopher wanted him to. Kristopher was good, how he found out about Miriel Lucian still couldn’t say, but good as he was Lucian was still better. Three phone calls and he had Kristopher’s home address, social security number, religious and political affiliations, and place of work. Now the real game would begin. Lucian left his sometimes partner to sulk in her room and made his way to an address in a neighborhood so enveloped in money they’d probably not yet heard there was a war going on outside. While the rest of the world’s civilians went on with their daily lives, constantly waiting for the dam to break, these citizens’ only worry was that they had to water their lawns before the grass turned colors. When you can afford gates and a private army there was good reason to believe you had nothing to worry about.

  Lucian wasn’t sure if he should have more or less respect for a man who lived in this environment. Networking must be a lot easier, but no true creature of the underworld would be able to survive. Lucian had an idea of what Kristopher wanted him for and it was starting to look like this man was one of the few who could get away with it. Very few things worried Lucian, but this man did. The problem with immortality was that you needed enough mortal souls to pay for it. It couldn’t be handed out as a political favor. Unless you were planning to take it away without warning.

  “I have an appointment with Kristopher.” Lucian had contemplated sneaking into the gated neighborhood, but since he wasn’t planning to kill anyone decided the effort wouldn’t be worth it. Besides, it made more of an impression being able to get in the right way through the right channels.

  “Kristopher who?” The man in the gatehouse barely glanced up from whatever magazine he was ‘reading,’ although Lucian had a feeling he’d been sleeping. He couldn’t blame the guard, sunrise hadn’t been that long ago and this
wasn’t the most interesting of jobs.

  “Kristopher with a ‘k’, not a ‘ch’,” Lucian said sarcastically, chuckling to himself. He had to give Kristopher credit for pretention.

  “You do know him then!” The guard roared with laughter and Lucian got the impression the man would have slapped him on the back if he hadn’t been enclosed in the guardhouse. “Go on through.” The guard pushed a button which caused the gates to swing forward and as Lucian walked through he could still hear the guard laughing and mumbling, ‘with a K!’

  The guard would be on his radio any minute now, relaying the story to all his fellow guards, “And then I say, Kristopher who…” While his anonymity might be gone he had learned how popular Kristopher was with the people protecting him. Not one for inspiring loyalty. Lucian smiled to himself. It was getting easier to see where he fit into this picture.

  Lucian knocked loudly on an obnoxiously large oak door attached to an even larger house. The doorbell might have made more sense but Kristopher should have been expecting a visitor at anytime from anywhere. If he wasn’t then he obviously didn’t deserve to be doing business with Lucian and Miriel.

  Kristopher didn’t disappoint. The door swung open just seconds later and the politician did an excellent job of concealing his shock at seeing Lucian on the porch. Lucian wasn’t sure if the shock was because Kristopher honestly thought he was better at the game than Lucian was or because he thought Lucian would do something a little more dramatic than knocking on the front door.

  “You’re better than I thought.” Kristopher opened the door wider and gestured for Lucian to come inside.

  “You’re the only person to say that who stayed alive this long.” Lucian chuckled. “You want to work with me, I’d advise you not get into the habit of underestimating what any of us can do.”

  “Work with? I have no…” Kristopher trailed off, as if his brain finally got around to telling his mouth this was the time to go straight to business. The games were over for now.

  “Something to drink first?” Kristopher walked into a large kitchen, the kind with appliances that looked like they’ve never been touched and wine racks built into the center island. Everything looked spotless and new as if it had been cleaned by a team of maids and never even heard of the word food. Lucian distrusted it immediately, the whole thing was far too much of a showpiece and totally inefficient.

  “Absolutely not. If you have something to ask, ask now, or I’m walking out.”

  Kristopher sighed but didn’t argue. Self-possessed as he was he didn’t seem to know quite how to handle Lucian. Kristopher was a man who knew how to bend the truth and get his way with people like him: good, upstanding citizens who made lots of money by never doing anything wrong…at least not themselves. Lucian was a different breed. He didn’t fit this world. There were no ulterior motives to read or bribes to be given. You either impressed him or you were dead. “Well, I’ve been thinking of going a little deeper into politics.”

  For the first time that day Lucian was impressed. Instead of leading him into another, equally intimidating room that served as an office after the offer of a drink was passed, Kristopher just pulled up a seat at the center island and started talking business. “I wouldn’t think now’s the best time for that.” Lucian joined him at the center island, still curious about the angle but starting to like him a little more.

  “Not yet, but it will be. It’s an election year and this war is getting closer to home. With your help I can win more than just a four-year term. People are scared, desperate, and afraid to die. They’ll be willing to give up every trace of personal freedom they have to get it. I could have a whole country at my feet. I think you can figure out where you would come in.”

  Lucian nodded, his guess had been right. Not that he doubted it. The problem now was trying to decide if it was a good idea or not.

  “You want me to help you make a campaign promise no one can come close to matching.”

  “Not just that. I want you to let me on the inside. This is a deal that means nothing if I don’t have a certain amount of, well, let’s just call it staying power. You’re just the man to get it for me.”

  “I can appreciate the maniacal bid for world domination. I can even sympathize with it. But I’ve never been very civic minded and if the rest of the world wants to wallow in political dysfunction that’s alright with me. So at the risk of sounding melodramatic. What’s in it for me.” Lucian leaned back in his chair, if he’d had a drink now would have been the time for him to hold it in one hand and spin the ice while staring down Kristopher. Since he had no drink he just settled on staring down the man next to him.

  “Well, of course.” Kristopher smiled, finally feeling back in his element. This was now a negotiation. He knew just how to handle those. “You want to know you’re getting something for your trouble. I can completely understand that.” A typical politician’s smile followed, just to drive the point home. Lucian kept his mouth shut, lips giving not so much as a twitch in return. Lucian had never been involved in politics but he’d been around long enough to resent being treated like a simpleton constituent. He kept his mouth shut only because he didn’t think Kristopher knew how to act differently.

  “You’ll be the power behind me with license to make political decisions, just not publicly. It took me years to track down a way to find you, I think you’ve made it pretty obvious how much you like your anonymity. I’ll give you a world of new followers, living sacrifices just waiting for you to say the word. I’ll catapult you from the underground, make you the leader of more devout followers than the pope himself!” At this point in his speech Kristopher got out of his chair and stood next to Lucian, arm around his shoulder. His other arm was stretched out in front of them, motioning ahead as if this magical future was going to materialize in front of them, right there in the kitchen.

  Lucian’s lip curled in disgust, he shook off Kristopher’s arm and walked to the door. “We’ve been fine this long, I don’t need virgins flinging themselves into a pit or idiots kissing my feet without knowing exactly what it is I do. You have money, buy your way into power,” Lucian shouted over his shoulder as he closed the giant front door behind him.

  Kristopher was standing stunned in the kitchen. It took the slamming of the door to bring him back to reality and notice the necromancer had stormed out the door. Politician to the last, Kristopher wasn’t about to give up. Lucian was harder to read than most people, more animal in his motives and more than fond of Miriel. Kristopher smiled. He’d known how to play this all along. He was ashamed of himself for not realizing it sooner.

  “Lucian!” He called from the doorway. Lucian hadn’t made it too far past the front lawn. “What about the hunt? Think of all the moral opposition there’ll be to you and me, all those nonbelievers you can hunt to keep up your quota. No sacrifice, just a game. It’ll all be a game. And Miriel, she could work with us. A personal assassin. I know, initially, I needed her to get to you but she really is the best. Just as good as you.” Kristopher smiled one more time but this wasn’t his appeasing political smile, it was one of total triumph. Now he had Lucian.

  If the hunt was the idea that made Lucian stop, hearing Miriel’s name was the thing that got him to turn around and walk back. “Miriel and I work together. And neither of us works for you.”

  “Well then. We’ve got a lot to work on together then. Why not start now? After all, I heard it takes close to 48 hours to complete that pact you’re so secretive about.”

  “Follow me.”

  ***

  Miriel thought she was going to spend her time alone pacing the room and going over all the ways Lucian could be screwing her out of a customer. The more she tried to think about it the more she realized she didn’t care, which was a surprising revelation. Instead of wasting time she decided to catch up on sleep, a decision made even sweeter knowing Lucian would be furious she hadn’t been awake and anxious to know what business he’d had with Kristopher.

&nb
sp; “Really, you’re based in an apartment complex?”

  Lucian glared as he forced open the door. It probably wasn’t a smart idea to bring Kristopher to Miriel’s apartment, but she hadn’t been answering her phone when he’d called her on the way over and Lucian didn’t want her alone if Kristopher tried anything after he’d gotten what he was after. The only way to keep the playing field level was to take Miriel with them and make sure Kristopher couldn’t get to her later.

  “Mi!” Lucian walked from the kitchen to the living-dining room, starting to worry Kristopher had already gotten here somehow. There was no reason to think that as Miriel very rarely told him where she was going or when she’d be leaving. “Mi!” Lucian knocked, then pounded, on the bedroom door.

  “What.” Miriel opened the bedroom door looking less than amused. She was still alert and prepared, as every good assassin should be, but there was an aura of grogginess around her, and the crankiness that goes along with it.

  “Are you dressed?”

  “Unless you’ve gone blind I should think the answer to that is pretty damn obvious, Lu. Should I be dressed for any special occasion? Like the prom,” Miriel muttered and glared at Lucian, making absolutely no attempt to move. Lucian didn’t care. He acknowledged the statement that it was obvious to anyone with eyes Miriel was wearing clothes by nodding, then grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door. Kristopher stood in the doorway and chuckled to himself until Lucian pushed his way through and slammed the door shut.

  “It’s business. Straighten up and walk on your own.” Lucian spoke more firmly than necessary considering Miriel hadn’t had the chance to walk on her own since Lucian grabbed her arm and drug her out the door. Miriel gave him a look of confusion, anger, and concern all pushed together, but one backwards glance at Kristopher was enough for her to keep her mouth shut.

  Lucian walked briskly and Miriel gave up trying to stay by his side. He threw glances to her every few steps to make sure she was following. This wasn’t something Lucian did very often, bringing outsiders to the inside. He wasn’t sure what it meant. Not knowing was a feeling he didn’t get often and it worried him when he did.