“I have a car.” Kristopher rolled his eyes. He sounded more like a spoiled teen than a man planning a hostile revolution and government takeover.
Lucian didn’t fail to notice that and turned around without stopping his pace. “Everyone who goes joins or dies. No cars, no tracks, no drivers waiting outside and getting in the way.” He turned back around without missing a step and Kristopher lapsed into an almost adolescent silence. Miriel just walked.
Kristopher tried a few times to start a conversation but Lucian only glared and walked faster. Miriel ignored him while trying even harder to keep up with Lucian. Eventually he gave up and just settled on muttering to himself. The muttering didn’t last long though, five more minutes and Lucian finally stopped.
“Are you ready.” It wasn’t really a question because he pushed the two followers through the doorway before they had time to answer.
Kristopher grinned and Miriel shrugged.
The first door led them into a maintenance alcove. There were tarps and paint cans in one corner, ladders and flashlights in another. The floor was covered in sawdust and grass clippings, not exactly what you’d expect to find in the lair of a secret cult, but Lucian didn’t stop here for long. He walked over to another door, presumably the one they’d go through for the real fun to begin, peeked in, and then opened it gesturing for Miriel and Kristopher to go in as he flipped on the lights.
Miriel had to slap a hand across her mouth to keep from giggling aloud, something she hadn’t had occasion to do since she left home and started killing people for money. Kristopher’s mouth dropped and it took a few minutes before he could manage any expression at all.
“Is this it?”
The three stood in a gymnasium, but not just any gym, the kind you find in grade schools that multi-functions as gym, cafeteria, assembly hall, and theater. There was even a kitchen in the far back corner, one that just had to be stocked with pudding, fruit cups, and French fries. There were no blood stains on the floor, no occult signs on the wall, no deep, dark stairwells to walk down into the darkness, no unholy alters with backwards Bibles and an upside down crucifix. It was as innocent as a room could possibly be, it even had a lost and found in the corner, filled with tennis shoes and gym shorts.
“We’re just renting it.” Lucian tried halfheartedly to defend it. Miriel couldn’t stifle her laughter anymore and Kristopher went from pale to green to red in about ten seconds.
“Are you joking, Lucian!” Kristopher bellowed once he remembered how to use his mouth. “Are you just using me for your amusement? We had a deal! If this is how you make alliances I can tell you you’ve made one hell of an enemy!”
“It’s not a joke,” Lucian sighed. “Compose yourself please, Mi.”
Miriel nodded and took a few deep breathes, wiping tears from her eyes but finally silent.
“I thought your name was Elle?”
“Because most assassins you know do business using their real name?” Lucian mumbled sarcastically before walking around the gym to make sure all the doors were locked and the windows were covered. He normally didn’t behave so immaturely, but he was insulted by his guests’ reaction to his cult’s current home.
“What is your real name?” Kristopher tried to act nonchalant but he was upset about not having Miriel’s trust the way he thought he did. Which meant he didn’t have Miriel in the position he thought he did.
“To you? It’s Elle.” Miriel smirked as she walked over to the partially folded up bleachers and perched on what looked like the most stable part. “Now, Lucian, are you going to tell us exactly why your dark, magical cult is based out of a grade school? Or are you just brainwashing them early now? Giving back to the community? No child left behind?”
“Shut up, Mi.” Lucian scowled right as Miriel was about to start laughing again. She mumbled a rather lame apology and stayed quiet, but didn’t look like she was taking anything seriously.
“Joking aside, Lucian, I would like to know what the fuck we’re doing here.” Kristopher did an excellent job of keeping himself partially under control.
“It's not a joke. Things haven’t been too good for religions these last few years and even worse for the obscure ones you can’t use to take things off on your taxes. We weren’t able to hold on to our old building. A nice dark warehouse. Smelled like death, people crossed the street when they came to it. Perfect. People just don’t tithe like they used to. This was the only place we could afford. As a prayer group we’re able to get the space a few times a week, jammed between PTA meetings and basketball practices.” Lucian visibly shuttered. “You wouldn’t believe the effort that goes into cleaning up the place when we’re done. We pay well and the school is as desperate for money as we are so they don’t ask many questions. We religions have to stick together. At this point it’s really more about faith versus no faith than it is about religion versus religion. Feel free to leave if you want to.”
“This’ll have to change. I’ll buy you a nice run down mansion, something right out of a Poe story. Once we start campaigning appearances will be everything. We need people to think you’ve got a pit and a pendulum hiding somewhere in your basement.”
“You’re right. Let’s let the voters think you’re working with Vlad Tepes, all the Anne Rice fans who bothered to register to vote will be thrilled.”
“You’re going into politics, Lu? As what? You hate people. And organizing things. And running people’s lives.”
“We’re taking over the world, Mi. Haven’t you figured that much out yet?”
“Of course you are,” Miriel scoffed and almost started laughing again.
“If we’ve wasted quite enough time, we should get started, Lucian. Before it’s time for P.E. or an assembly of some sort?”
Lucian glared, but nodded. Kristopher was probably right. He gestured for Miriel and Kristopher to come to the center of the room. He looked like he was finally about to start something.
“Don’t you need a robe or something?”
“This isn’t a Halloween party, Kristopher. Exactly what are you expecting here? I can assure you, whether it looks right or not, things are very real.”
Kristopher nodded, but Miriel noticed his face go a shade paler.
“Mi, you finished a job today?”
“Yes.” She looked at him and started to worry Lucian was trying to get her too involved.
“Good, we can get you taken care of first.” He turned to Kristopher. “For the ritual to work the candidate needs to have killed someone within 24 hours. We’re not so ritual oriented that it has to happen during any specific rite, in a particular way, or in front of witnesses, but since you aren’t as experienced as Miriel it might be better for you if it is. Just to get you started.”
“Lu?” Miriel tried to interrupt.
“It’ll just work better this way.”
“Lucian!”
“What, Mi?”
“I’ll help you find a body for him but I’m not getting sucked into any kind of ritual.”
“Mi, please.” Lucian pulled her over to a corner as far away from Kristopher as possible while still keeping him within eye sight. “Mi, you have to do this. With what he’s planning,” Lucian dropped his voice, “Mi, even if he doesn’t come after you it’ll be a lot better for you if you’re one of us.”
“One of us? You’re working with him? He’s a good client, sure, and he pays well, but Lucian. Working one job for him and working with him. You have to see how different that is.”
“Mi, something was going to happen soon anyway. If he manages to pull this off I won’t have to run my religion out of this, how did you say it, ‘fucking grade school.’ Do you realize how humiliating this is. My father was a lead necromancer for over 200 years, not once was our art as difficult to maintain as it has been under my leadership. I can fix it, but I need Kristopher.”
“Your art, your religion? Lu, you kill people and steal their lives. And 200 years! Just how old are you! How many other assassi
ns have you trailed behind to get fresh victims from?” Miriel spit the last sentence, more of an accusation than a question.
“Keep your voice down.” Lucian glanced at Kristopher, who was obviously enjoying the show, then back at Miriel, his eyes blazing red and his lips curling into a snarl. “Take it all back, Miriel, you have no idea what you’re insulting.”
“Really, Lucian? Because from what I can tell you’re just another in a long line of power hungry men too afraid to die.”
“Shoot me. I’ll prove to you this isn’t just a hoax.” Lucian grabbed at her arm, eyes flashing between desperation and anger so quickly even he wasn’t sure what he felt.
“I never said I didn’t believe you, Lu, I just said I think you’re afraid to die. You, of all people, afraid of death.” Miriel gave a half-hearted smile before she turned towards the door. As she started to walk away Lucian’s eyes finally decided on an emotion.
“Kristopher, it looks like we won’t have to take you out after all. Kill her,” Lucian snarled again, eyes burning into Miriel’s back before she turned to face him one last time.
“Fuck you, Lu.” Then she ran.
Lucian never intended for Kristopher to kill her. He’d never have been able to succeed even if he tried. If there was one thing Miriel was better at than killing people it was keeping other people from killing her. Lucian chuckled as Kristopher ran to follow her and eventually Lucian followed. He wouldn’t admit Miriel had wounded his pride a little. He just focused on the fact she was now a liability.
“Don’t bother, Kris.” Lucian placed a hand on his new partner’s shoulder. “We just need her to run.”
4. Still Three Years Before the War (Miriel)
After twenty minutes Miriel stopped running at a full sprint and jogged back to her apartment. She knew Lucian wasn’t going to chase her around the city but the threat itself was still real. She had said the wrong thing to someone who would eventually have the power to do something about it. It was time to leave.
Miriel never stayed long enough for anywhere to be considered ‘home’, it was another occupational hazard. No matter where she went, Lucian showed up on the couch a few days later. It was uncanny. It should have occurred to her that one day it would be a problem, that someday she’d need to go somewhere he wouldn’t be able to track her. Of course, the increase in the number of suspicious deaths in the area must have been a clue, so staying out of the killing game might help her a little. She wouldn’t be able to stay in any of the major cities, being the best at what she did meant people would try to seek her out. Not to mention Lucian’s cultists cleared the crazy line, number one in devotion. All he had to do was say the word and she was dead. The more she thought about it the more she realized what kind of an enemy Lucian made. If she’d realized this before she might have just kept her mouth shut and taken his deal.
Miriel’s apartment was still dark and locked when she finally got inside, but she didn’t want to waste time checking for anything Lucian might have hidden. She walked to her room and pulled a duffle bag out from under the bed. It was kind of like an emergency kit, the ones that, if you remember to pack the right things, will keep you alive during earthquakes, floods, tornados, blitzkriegs, or zombie apocalypses. Except this was more of a ‘game over time to change your name and move to a different country’ kind of bag. Instead of water and canned food there were bank account numbers, cash, clothes, and passports. The accounts and passports were useless, Lucian had set them up for her. If she went international during the war a paper trail would be too easy to track, especially if Lucian was going to have political power. Changing her name and city would work for a while, but if Lucian really wanted to find her it wouldn’t take too long before he did. Miriel had no doubt Lucian would try to track her down, even if it wasn’t any time in the near future, the day would come. It wasn’t even a question of finding somewhere he wouldn’t be able to track her, it was finding a place that would take him the longest to get to. She’d have to go totally off the grid, no paper trails, no electronic footprint, and no names in any searchable systems.
Miriel actually shivered when she realized what her best, and maybe only, option was. She would have to change sides completely. The thought alone was enough to make her physically sick. Lucian might be the head of the most dangerous cult out there but it certainly wasn’t the only one. Not too long after the war started to get big enough to scare the people at home, small rural communities started to spring up and offer a better life. They were cults in their own right. Once you agreed to go in there wasn’t a way to get out. These villages didn’t believe in any kind of contact with the outside, not even to swap recipes and trade finely crafted furniture. They functioned like communes or real life Smurf villages. Everyone had a job they did for the community and they grew everything they needed to survive. Bringing things in from the outside was unthinkable. Miriel and Lucian had made fun of them for months after they were first discovered and now they seemed to be her only option. Miriel was almost sick again. They were purely pacifists. You couldn’t even kill a damn fly without going to trial in front of the elders. At least that’s what Miriel assumed. Hunting for food was nothing like hunting for kill. Sure, Miriel wondered if she’d made the right choice to live the way she did. She’d never been able to get rid of all the remorse the way Lucian did, but she did know that if you weren’t prepared to kill something the chances of it killing you doubled.
This brought up another interesting question. Eventually Lucian would find her. Was she prepared to kill him?
The question was pushed back down almost as quickly as it was raised. Miriel would have more than enough time to ponder it while sewing hemp dresses and eating tree bark. The thought made Miriel shiver yet again. A life of saving rodents and nursing sick birds, giving people the benefit of the doubt, choosing the not killing people path in life. It all sounded awful. It would give her a chance to reevaluate her life. Maybe she could consider it a mid-life crisis. At least that’s how she’d explain it to, to who? Lucian was the only person she could talk about her life and her work with, not that the two were different. It was cathartic to talk things out with someone who understood her path in life. Lucian had killed more people than she had, he understood what it was like, she didn’t have to spend hours explaining things or defending herself. He just knew, so he listened. Miriel felt something coming up in her chest, but she’d spent so many years pushing emotions down they no longer knew how to stay. This was the closest she could get to feeling her assassin’s heart break.
Miriel gave herself a sad smile and dropped the bag. She wouldn’t be allowed to take anything with her if she made it to one of the small communes. She’d have to let go. She’d have to start saying her real name out loud and start hearing people other than Lucian call her by it. She’d have to start telling someone else her story. Once she got through all the gory explanations and justifications maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. After all, everyone loves a reformed sinner, she could be something of a novelty, even an example. But now it was just time to run.
Miriel took her time locking the front door and said a little goodbye in her mind. It had been a pretty cheap apartment but it was also the place Miriel had stayed the longest. It had one meshed together living-dining-tiny kitchen-room, and a bedroom with an attached bathroom. There wasn’t a lot of room for “stuff” but Miriel always lived lightly. The size was a good excuse for not having any pictures or knick-knacks lying around or whole shelves dedicated to vacation souvenirs and trophies from middle school. It was a purely functional living space, a perfect match for Miriel. She felt more frustration than sadness at leaving. This place had been a perfect fit: low key, easily over looked, entirely functional, and familiar. Losing it would mean another long and drawn out search to find something else and modify it to be what this place already was. Such a waste of time. She wasn’t just moving on again this time, she was hiding from Lucian. She wouldn’t be able to find a place that fit her, she would have to
find a place that was the exact opposite. Knowing that made leaving even harder.
Miriel turned away from what used to be her door and took the stairs down to the first floor, glancing around for Lucian but not expecting him to be there. The lobby was empty and only a few innocent cars drove by on the street outside. She thought about trying to call for a cab but not knowing a final destination would make that difficult. Besides, cars were easy to track and required stops for gas. Not to mention there were only so many places you could take them and most of those were subject to traffic, roadwork, road conditions, and all sorts of other unpredictable hassles. This would become a pilgrimage of sorts. Miriel would pick a direction and walk until she either felt she was in the right place or was too tired to keep looking. Being alone with your thoughts is never pleasant at first but it does wonders to get you through a midish-life crisis if you’re willing to listen. Miriel decided to go east, if only because whenever someone ‘set out’ anywhere they normally went west. It was a rather hallow fuck you to the world of the contemplative journey. It was also another way for Miriel to keep herself moving. It was always easier to get motivated when you had someone to be mad at and something to prove.
Miriel walked through the almost deserted city and started to wonder exactly what was going on with the rest of the world. The war outside was starting to creep inside very subtly. The streets and sidewalks were totally deserted more often than not as people started to prefer spending their time at home with family and loved ones. Stores no longer sported ‘now hiring’ signs on their windows and that was if they managed to stay open at all. It wasn’t that money was actually tight, it was just that people seemed to be preparing for the inevitable. Everyone was stocking up on non-perishable necessities like the apocalypse was right around the corner. No one wanted any extras and the things they did buy they bought sparingly and with as many coupons and discounts as possible.
The Price of Life Page 4