The Price of Life

by T. M. Nienaber

  “What are you doing?” Kristopher didn’t bother moving but he was annoyed it took Lucian a mere few seconds to discover something it took him and his men days to find. He was even more annoyed when Lucian opened the door without any kind of a struggle. “How did you do that!”

  “Oh, the same way most people open locked doors. With a key, Kristopher. So tell me, what do you think of this? Serious enough for your constituents?” Lucian swung the doors open wide to reveal a space which could have belonged to Faust himself. It was the kind of place Kristopher had expected to see when Lucian brought him to his first cult meeting. There were symbols and words in strange languages chalked on the ground. The room smelled like death and blood. A smell that had soured with age. Kristopher choked on the air as he walked in.

  “Lucian! How did you know this was here?” Kristopher was ashamed at how amazed his voice sounded. The last thing he wanted Lucian to think was that he was impressed. The room was perfect though, he couldn’t have designed a better place.

  “Didn’t I mention it before? I used to live here. This was my father’s house and this is his laboratory.”

  “No, you didn’t mention it. In fact, I’m positive this is the first time you said anything about having lived here as a child. Any reason you’re just telling me this now? Do you have any idea how long it took me to find this place? How many run down shacks I had this real estate agent try to scam me into buying with the promise of ghosts and supernatural activity, only to find out that you could have pointed me in the right direction all along! Don’t you want this plan to work, Lucian! Are you trying to make my life difficult?”

  “Shh.” Lucian glared and waved Kristopher’s mouth shut. He entered the room slowly, walking around the edges and eyeing over everything carefully and respectfully. He walked up to a shelf of books, softly tracing the spines and clearing away some of the cobwebs. He treated every object with a careful reverence, making sure everything was in its place, the same place it was in when he was a child.

  “Lucian, where is your father?” Tactless to the last, Kristopher started thinking maybe the father would be better to work with than the son. Why the apprentice when you could work with the master.

  “Dead.” Lucian looked up, no longer in his trance.“He was a good man. He was never offered the deal by the things on the other side any of the times he died. Eventually he got old enough to stop wanting to be alive. He skipped his kill for the day and turned into ash almost instantly. It was tragic. And bad luck for you I’m afraid.” Lucian grinned and Kristopher walked out of the room, furious Lucian had managed to read his mind once again.

  “I do understand how much you need to publicize us to do what you need to do, Kristopher, but no one is allowed in here unless they’ve been approved by me. You’ll have to agree to that if you want this partnership to move forward. And no cameras either, certain things aren’t meant to be caught on film.”

  “Of course, Lucian.” It was a small concession and one he wasn’t planning to make for long.

  “Well now, is it time to start thinking of a plan and talking strategy?”

  “Well past, Lucian. Things have already been started. From what I’ve learned there will be negotiations today between our fearless leader and our supposed enemy. I have men in place to kill them both and anyone else who may happen to show up and get in the way. I wanted Miriel for this job, she’s the only assassin I would have trusted for this assignment, but that obviously isn’t an option anymore. Anyway.” Kristopher moved on after making sure his comments had the appropriate effect on Lucian. “Once that has been done there will be pressure to elect someone else who’s willing to take a more active and offensive approach to war. It’s our job to make sure people’s emotions don’t cool down. We introduce you and what you can offer. Someone kills me and I come back to life right before their eyes, on live TV and in front of an audience. That’s when I make my speech about what it is you can do and what I can offer the citizens if they elect me. Then we have another demonstration. We call a soldier up from the audience, a plant of course, it will really be one of your men, preferably one who can handle the resurrection process as painlessly as possible. We’ll have him shot and you’ll raise him up. People don’t think too much about the things they want to be true. They’ll assume we can make it so all of our soldiers are immortal and once they’re blinded by hope I’ll be elected without too much of a problem. Then the fun can really begin.

  Just think what we can do, a personal army of immortal soldiers. They’ll never be able to get me out of office and the majority of people won’t want me to go. After we have their votes and their confidence we’ll bring in the fine print, introduce your fee for people who aren’t members of the cult or my supporting party, and all those other little details that seem to keep cropping up. I’m sure they’ll go along with it. There’s no way they can say no.”

  “And what do we do while we wait for your great plan to be set in motion?”

  “Well, is there a TV in this house somewhere? We’re bound to see something on the news. I really wish I’d had more time to get the place ready. I need an office somewhere that has modern electricity running through it.”

  Lucian’s eyes narrowed but he started walking to the stairs. “We have a TV up on the second floor if it hasn’t been stolen by now. That won’t really help if you forgot to have the power turned back on. It’s the first step to getting modern electricity running through the place, you know.”

  “Of course I had the power turned back on, Lucian. I was simply commenting on the fact that this house hasn’t exactly been kept up to date. If I’m going to work here I’ll need an updated office space.”

  Lucian walked ahead of Kristopher and had no interest in what he was rambling on about. The second floor was more closed in than the first, meant for use by the family only. The hallway branched off at the top of the stairs and Lucian went left although both sides seemed identical with the same number and type of doors. Lucian opened the door to the last room in the hall and Kristopher followed him inside. It didn’t seem like a child’s room. There were no posters on the wall or toys and comic books piled up in a mess on the floor. It looked more like a monk’s cell, very sparse with coarse sheets on the bed. The desk was covered with old books, now made even older by a thick layer of dust. There was one small window right above the bed without a shade or curtains. There was, however, a TV sitting awkwardly on the only empty corner of the desk. Lucian looked around for the plug and switched it on, trying his best to clean away the dust with the sleeve of his shirt but there was still a layer of grime over the screen that wouldn’t come off.

  Kristopher was right. There was live news coverage on every channel already. The whole thing had been handled about as well as it could have been. Large men in black suits attempted to keep the cameras away from the bodies without much success. It was a media frenzy. There were four casualties but the shooter hadn’t gone outside or fired at the civilians waiting to hear the results of the peace talks. Our fearless leader had been the first one down, excellent work, one clean shot and no one heard a thing. The other three bodies weren’t as important but they added to the overall terror of the scene. One of them was the leader of “enemy number one”, who was probably the most important body in some other country. The other two were just there to make it look like an even bigger affair of state, although no one seemed to know who they were or what they were doing there. No matter how hard security tried to push people out, cameras found their way in and the whole gory scene would be seen by everyone in the country. The clips on the internet were going viral. The news was out. No one was safe.

  Lucian had to applaud Kristopher’s efforts. If he could go public by tomorrow no one would come close to beating him. People were scared of death. Not just for their own lives but for the lives of their loved ones, especially those serving in the military, now that the war wouldn’t be over anytime soon. Anything could happen now. The war had finally hit home and in
a big way. When those emotions were the strongest, when devastation and death were the key things on everyone’s mind, Kristopher would swoop in and create the perfect storm. It was even easier to manipulate people who were in an emotional state and desperate for a solution than those who felt safe but were dumb. All you had to do was promise a quick and easy solution, little to no work involved on their part, and they were all yours.

  “What now, Kristopher?”

  “We wait for tomorrow. I have a network ready to shoot us live, not here yet, can’t come on too strong. We’ll be going on camera like we talked about but I think it’s a good idea if we don’t look too connected to each other so you’ll have to look more like a hired consultant. I’ll have to stay away from this house for a while, but you know I’ll be coming back soon to introduce you to the world as the partner you are. We’ll wait for people to get the message and then, well.” He grinned. “Everything takes care of itself from there.”

  “We need to find you someone to kill quick then don’t we?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you’re going on live and you’re going to be shot to prove a point. I think it would be a good idea to make sure you got back up. Don’t you?”

  “It won’t be too much over a day and there’s so much to plan now. There has to be some kind of grace period.”

  “Kristopher, your political career is no longer the first thing you answer to. Not if you want the immortality you came to me for. You answer to that first. No matter what other pressing matters you have going on I assure you this is the one you need to deal with first. Now, we can find you someone to kill, or we can let you die on live TV in front of an audience. Which would you prefer?”

  “Oh, this is just ridiculous. I have more important things to deal with than the rules of your little cult and its rituals.”

  “Kristopher. If you want to survive, you’ll go find someone to kill, you’ll have your day reset, and you’ll do it with a better attitude.” Lucian stood up and swung the door open wider, a cue for Kristopher to get out.

  “I hope you know we’ll have to find a better way to do this.” Kristopher stood up and started walking down the hall.

  “There is no better way, Kristopher. You don’t get options. You do this our way or you die. End of story.”

  “Alright, well, we’ll see about that,” Kristopher spoke under his breath, hoping Lucian wouldn’t hear him and get upset.

  “Why don’t we go introduce ourselves to the neighbors? I’m not sure I like having people living so close anyway.”

  Lucian nodded and followed Kristopher outside. It wasn’t a good idea to kill anywhere near the place you lived but he wasn’t in the mood to give his partner another lesson on practicality. He could do what he wanted and if that got him in trouble then Lucian could go back to the life he knew and loved without Kristopher interfering.

  11. Miriel And William

  “How are you feeling this morning, dear?” Madame Perkins blew into Miriel’s room opening windows and pulling clothes out of the closet, all while Miriel lay buried under covers pretending the woman’s shrill voice wasn’t enough to wake her. “Come on, dear.” The term didn’t sound too endearing coming out of her mouth. Her voice was harsh and rough, apparently pleasantness was only for company and eligible bachelors.

  “Umm, mhmm,” Miriel muttered and rolled onto her side, winced, then flopped on her back, opening her eyes wide enough for Madame to know she was awake.

  “Up!” She yelled, opening the windows wider to let in outside air and more light than Miriel could block out with her pillows.

  “I’m still hurt,” Miriel muttered weakly, but Madame Perkins simply pulled off the covers and pointed at the floor. Miriel nodded and started to slide out of bed, making sure she gave the back of Madame’s head a cold glare before standing up completely. The wound on her side had started seeping some time during the night and the thin cotton nightgown she’d worn to bed was stuck to the spot with hardened blood.

  “Damnit,” Miriel muttered, grabbing scissors from the top of the dresser by her bed and starting to cut some cloth from the bottom of the dress to replace her cotton bandage. She had even gotten so far as to try and stitch the wound back up using an embroidery needle and thread before Madame Perkins flew to her side screaming things like ‘improper’ and ‘unladylike’.

  “Honestly.” Madame smacked Miriel’s hand away from her side. “This is a perfect reason to get the doctor over here. Besides, you can’t possibly be seen doing something like this to yourself.”

  Miriel threw her hands in the air. “And who’s going to see me! Are there people outside looking up just waiting to see if I attend to my own injuries! You know what, I’ll make a deal with you, I won’t tell if you don’t!” It wasn’t that Miriel was ungrateful to be alive, but she’d only been in the house for one day, arriving almost dead should have given her at least a few days to sleep uninterrupted. Not to mention plan how she was going to get outside and start playing the game William had been so generous as to let her be a part of.

  “Get dressed!” Madame barked, her tone and attitude neither improved nor declined after her guest’s outburst. “I’ll send word for the doctor to come, the sooner the better.”

  “Why do I need to dress if I’m just having things re-stitched? I’ll have to take off at least six layers before that’s even a possibility.” She wasn’t done being difficult yet.

  “Dress.” Madame threw a pile of clothes at her, then closed the door and stomped downstairs, presumably to send word to William that his newest patient needed a new seam. Or make tea. The two were of equal importance in this house.

  “Fine, fine. Crazy old bat,” Miriel muttered to the closed door but she did start getting dressed. The corset bodice actually worked as well as a tourniquet and she would survive without a doctor as long as she stayed dressed. Somehow that didn’t strike her as very ladylike though.

  Miriel paused to look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t blend in well here, something made her look dangerous, even to her own eyes. This would make things difficult. Not to mention the town was enclosed, people easier to find and more likely to stick out in the first place. Not a good combination. She couldn’t believe these thoughts hadn’t crossed her mind before. She needed William, even more than he needed her. Miriel would have to relearn everything she’d ever known about fitting in, blending in, and not being caught. She looked over the books Madame had left on the nightstand: Victorian Tea Service, Victorian Architecture, History of England During the Industrial Revolution, and England Under Queen Victoria. These would be her lifeline now, she’d have to become a good student and shed every visage of her world outside these walls so she could go back to blending in with the scenery.

  Everyone thought the key to being a good assassin was having this grand personality, powerful and untouchable with a deadly skill to keep people in check. It worked for some people, usually the assassins who only killed other killers, but Miriel was a higher class than that. She worked for the unblemished rich, the ones who wanted money, power, and revenge without the reputation of winning by killing off the competition. Then the great, truly great, assassin needed something else. They had to know how to blend into the background, observing every detail of every unspoken social construct just enough to blend into whatever scenery they had behind them. It wasn’t about having a cover, a cover required roots, relationships, and staying in the same place most of the time. Covers might work for monsters and serial killers, but assassins required transience. Their role in life was like that of an extra on a movie set, they might be seen and heard, but never really remembered, never personalized, never given a last name. Now things would have to change. There was a whole culture to be learned before Miriel could do her work the way she was used to. It was like starting from the beginning again, except this time she hoped to make fewer mistakes.

  “Elle, dear, the doctor’s here.” Madame Perkins knocked on the door shortly after s
he’d opened it, her lips slipping into a thin smile of approval as she found Miriel sitting at her desk reading and taking notes on a book describing the correct way to manage a Victorian household.

  Miriel nodded tightly and stood up, making it obvious she was more concerned with straightening her skirts than the open gash in her side. Madame gave another of her tight-lipped smiles of approval.

  “Doctor.” Miriel held out her hand, but not palm down, which caused Madame to frown again. A woman wasn’t supposed to shake hands with anyone. William amended the situation by taking her hand and kissing it politely.

  “I hear you’ve been having trouble with your side?” He asked as if he’d come in response to a bad cramp and not the reopening of a near fatal knife wound. Miriel had to bite her tongue to keep from commenting about the subpar stitching from the quack that’d helped her in the first place.

  “Yes.” Madame Perkins intervened as she saw Miriel’s eyes darken. “We had some problems with it this morning, wanted you to take a look at it before we did anything to jeopardize the healing process.” She glared at Miriel, apparently their little discussion that morning hadn’t been forgotten.

  “Of course, of course.” William sounded almost jolly, Miriel could have slapped him.

  Miriel sat down in her chair, held her side, and gave the best fake pout she could. “All the stitches broke.” She made sure her tone sounded disapproving. She could deal with blending into the scenery when she wasn’t leaking.

  “Must be all that strenuous activity, haven’t been forcing her to serve tea for you already?” William’s eyes flashed but the rest of him stayed perfectly composed. He even managed to share a quick laugh with Madame Perkins as they looked at Miriel with shared derision.

  “It was so nice of you to come so soon.” Madame tried to ooze graciousness, as if it might make up for Miriel’s sudden rudeness.