by Laura Taylor
“Does that bother you?” she asked, trying to goad him into some sort of reaction. She’d faced many opponents before, and each one had always given her a hint of what they were planning to do next. This one had yet to give himself away.
The boy shrugged. “I have no problem with you killing Miller. I’ve thought about killing him myself, actually. But see, the problem is that it wouldn’t just be Miller. You’re a Satva Khuli. And that means you wouldn’t stop until everyone on this estate was dead.” He raised his lip in a hint of a snarl. “I like some of the people here. So that makes it a little more complicated.” Seeming distracted for a moment, the boy looked up and down the tree, from the branch she was perched on, to the ground, and back up again. Then he began walking around the tree in a slow circle.
Li Khuli watched him closely the entire time. He was contemplating how best to attack her, searching for a good angle or an easy vantage point. But she had spent days planning how to kill someone if they happened to find her in this tree, so she already knew the boy wouldn’t have any luck in his ill-advised plans.
He circled back around to the front of the tree – insofar as trees could have ‘fronts’ – and eyed the branches on either side of her. Then, in a smooth motion that would put even a Khuli to shame, he launched himself up the tree, wiry limbs hauling his slight weight upwards with startlingly little effort. Li Khuli braced herself, drawing a knife as she prepared herself to...
The boy landed on the branch opposite her, settling himself quickly and easily into a curve that made a comfortable seat. Li Khuli already knew it did, from having spent several hours sitting in it. The boy glanced over at her and smirked at the knife in her hand. “Oh, for goodness sake, put that away. You’re not going to kill me.”
“How do you know that?” Li Khuli demanded. She didn’t like people telling her what to do – her master notwithstanding – and she didn’t like people assuming they knew what she was going to do next.
“Because you’d have done it by now.”
Li Khuli sat back, startled and baffled by his reply. No, it wasn’t his words that were shaking her confidence. Plenty of people in the past had told her they didn’t think she was going to kill them, quaking in their boots the whole time, and invariably they had all ended up dead about thirty seconds later. No, the thing that was making her so off balance now was the boy’s utter confidence in his own statement. He sat on the branch, legs dangling, calm and relaxed, watching her watching him like he hadn’t a care in the world.
Li Khuli looked him over again, once more getting the strong impression that there was more to him than met the eye. This one was no assassin. He had perfect balance and a lithe, clean way of moving, but at the same time, he lacked the refined grace of the few assassins she’d seen in the past. There was something wild and uncultivated about the way he moved... though it was nonetheless efficient and effective. So, not an assassin, but...
What the hell did he think he was doing, sitting in a tree with her?
“What’s your name?” she asked, not expecting an answer.
“John,” he replied, a sassy smirk on his lips, and she couldn’t help a wry smile of her own. A ridiculously common name, here in England, and no doubt a fake one. But it was something to call him by, something to think of him other than ‘the boy’, so she would work with it. “What’s yours?” John asked, his expression saying he, too, held little expectation of a real answer.
“Li Khuli,” Li Khuli told him. “All of us are ‘Li Khuli’. It’s the only name I’ve ever known.” Why had she just told him that?
“You were raised by the Noturatii, right? An assassin once told me that you lot begin training when you’re about five years old. It that true?”
“What’s it to you?” Li Khuli felt uneasy. Why was this boy refusing to behave like a normal victim, scared, throwing out acts of bravado, trying to run away and tell his friends about her? In a week when she had broken so many rules herself, having someone else break them even more effectively than she had done was unnerving, to say the least.
“I’m curious,” John said, looking her in the eye, the unwavering stare of a predator.
“I’m not telling you anything about my training that might give you an advantage,” she told him sharply. “I don’t know why you’re sitting in my tree, but we are not friends, and we are not going to share secrets together like ridiculous politicians plotting an election.”
John tilted his head again, and Li Khuli got the impression it was something he did fairly often. “Well, that’s good,” he said, after thinking it over for a moment. “Because I’m not going to tell you anything about this estate, or the people in it, that might give you an edge. But what I asked isn’t secret information. I’ve already been told you start training young. I’m just asking you to confirm it.”
There was some trap here, Li Khuli thought. But to spring it, perhaps she would have to take some of the bait. “Yes,” she said finally. “We’re chosen when we’re four or five years old, and we begin training straight away.”
“How old were you when you killed your first person?”
What was the point of these questions? “Ten.”
“Hm.” John looked away, seeming to be calculating something in his head. “I think I was older than that. I don’t actually know how old I am, but at a guess, I would say I was... maybe twelve? I ripped his throat out.” His expression couldn’t quite be called a smile, but there was an unmistakable glee in his eyes. “How did you kill yours?”
“I smashed her head against a rock until she stopped moving.” Some unknown force compelled her to continue. “That wasn’t my first kill. Just my first human. I killed a chicken when I was five. A sheep when I was seven. I think there was a cat in between somewhere. And then after I killed the other girl, they made me fight dogs. I’ve killed a lot of dogs.” It wasn’t a boast; just a simple fact.
Shadows appeared in John’s eyes, and he nodded slowly. “Yes. I know all about killing dogs.” He had a far-away look, and Li Khuli wondered just where he’d wandered off to. She felt the world sway slightly beneath her, in a way that had nothing to do with sitting in a tree.
“Who are you?” she asked quietly. “How did you become so familiar with death and pain?”
The momentary reverie vanished, to be replaced with a sly sort of pride. “I, Madam Khuli, am just like you. Raised as a Noturatii slave until I was able to break free of my shackles.”
That was it. That was why the way he moved was so familiar. He didn’t move like as assassin. He moved like her; like a Khuli.
“You were not raised as a Khuli,” she said, derision thick in her voice. A Khuli would never lower themselves so far as to become a shifter!
“Not as a Khuli, no,” John said. “As a captive in a Noturatii lab. An experiment, if you want to call it that. A toy for their sadistic curiosity to play with.”
A pause followed. “Interesting,” John said, when Li Khuli made no attempt to fill the silence. “You’re quick to denounce the idea that I could have been a Khuli-in-training, but say nothing at all about the idea that you’re a slave to them.”
Li Khuli shrugged. “I am a slave. This isn’t the first time that has occurred to me.”
John raised an eyebrow. “But maybe they don’t have as firm a grip on your leash as they think they do. That was certainly the case with me.”
“Why do you not fear me?” Li Khuli snapped suddenly, unable to stand this strangely baffling situation any longer. “I could kill you in a heartbeat if I so chose.”
John had the audacity to laugh at her. “I’ve just told you I was raised in the same level of hell as you. But if that’s not enough, then let me tell you this: you’re not the first Khuli I’ve met.”
“And you lived to tell of it?”
“An assassin was there at the time. He killed her. Otherwise, no, I probably wouldn’t be here today.”
Li Khuli felt her eyebrows rise, an unexpected thrill coursing through her
. “You saw the assassin kill the Khuli? What was it like?” she asked, her excitement getting the better of her. “How did they fight? Was it a close match? How did she die?”
But rather than reply to her question, John’s eyes narrowed and his body tensed ever so slightly. “The assassin? Not an assassin? You know what happened, then.” He glanced out of the tree and over the wall. “You know a lot about this estate by now, I’d reckon.”
Li Khuli shrugged. “Your assassin is the reason I haven’t killed Miller yet. I know he killed one of us, and I have no desire to add my name to a list of failures.”
“I’m not going to tell you anything about the fight,” John said firmly. “Nothing that would give you an edge, remember? But I can tell you this; from the moment she set foot in the room, there was never any doubt about her intentions. She was going to kill us, or we were going to kill her.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Li Khuli asked. “This says nothing about why you don’t fear me.”
John smiled, a slow, sage look. “You’ll figure it out,” he said simply, and then, without any warning, he dropped lithely out of the tree.
“I’m not going to tell anyone you’re here,” he called, as he backed away, heading towards the gate. “So long as you stay on your side of the fence, that is,” he added. “But consider this: the scuff marks on that tree say you’ve climbed up and down it at least a dozen times in the past week or so.” He raised a sardonic eyebrow at her. “A whole week and you haven’t managed to kill even a single one of us? I’d be reviewing my career options, if I were you.”
A moment later, he was once again in wolf form, leaping effortlessly over the gate, and then he was gone, loping gracefully off into the trees.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Caroline parked her motorbike neatly against the curb and took off her helmet. The street was relatively busy, and to any unsuspecting passer-by, she looked like just another party-goer heading out for the evening. She made a fuss of fixing her hair, peering into the small wing mirror of the bike, and checked in the process that her earpiece hadn’t been dislodged by the helmet.
Nope, all good.
“Approaching the building,” she said softly, as she hooked the helmet on the side of the bike and set off down the road. Her heart was pounding, and she took a few discreet breaths to calm herself. She was more than familiar with both danger and violence, but subterfuge was a little more off the radar for her. She prayed she could pull off her role in tonight’s charade well enough.
“I’m in position.” Andre’s voice came through her earpiece clearly, his tone calm and in control, and she relaxed automatically, knowing that he was going to have her back. Being in a public place, there was a minimal risk of any of them ending up in a fight, but given the nature of their enemy, Caroline wasn’t willing to take anything for granted.
Down the street, Baron was sitting with Alistair in the Den’s car. In the opposite direction, Silas was sitting in a pub nursing a beer and generally minding his own business. And stationed a couple of streets away, Raniesha and Kwan were chatting idly while they sat on their motorbikes, apparently shooting the breeze while they listened in on the conversation, ready to provide fast and mobile back-up in case anything went wrong.
Caroline reached the bar, a small but popular spot, and went inside without the slightest hesitation. That in itself was a drastic break from routine. Usually before entering a building, she would know the location of at least three potential exits, check that the street was clear of her enemies and once inside, she would lurk near the door for half a minute, using the excuse of blowing her nose or searching through her wallet while she checked out the occupants of the room.
God, she thought, as she deliberately ignored the rest of the patrons and headed for the bar. What did it say about their world that she routinely had to make such an effort just to walk through a fucking door? By Sirius, she couldn’t wait until this damned war was over.
“Bacardi and coke,” she said to the bartender when he came over, handing over some cash to pay for it. As a general rule, she drank either beer or whisky in preference to almost everything else, and far more specifically, she hated Bacardi with a passion. But her target was particularly fond of the drink, so she ordered one, on the off-chance that someone might notice, and she could use it as a conversation starter.
“Head over to the wall to your left,” Andre’s voice came through her earpiece. “Take a seat and wait.”
It would have been nice to hear some light-hearted quip from her lover, as she made her way through a room that she knew full well contained a Noturatii operative. That, too, was an unusual part of this evening. Usually when one of those showed up, every shifter in the room started heading for the door. But there were no words of affection from Andre, no reassurances that he’d happily dismember anyone who got in her face. He was in mission mode, Caroline knew, a cold and total focus on his objectives, and until their task was complete, she’d get more personality out of a toaster. It was both a heartening reminder that he would go to extreme lengths to protect his pack, and a cold acknowledgement that there were parts of her boyfriend that she couldn’t reach, and likely never would.
Moving carefully through the crowd, she claimed a stool in an out-of-the-way spot and turned to face the room, settling in for a wait of indeterminate length. Aside from the inherent danger of baiting the Noturatii, Caroline had cause to be unsettled; setting up this meeting had been no small task, taking days of careful manipulations and research, moving piece after piece on the chess board until everything was arranged perfectly, and even then, the whole thing had only come together because of a significant amount of luck. She dreaded the idea of being the one to fuck it up now, after so much effort had gone into planning this.
“Chu is on the far side of the room,” Andre reported. “Elisa is currently in the bathroom.” Caroline felt her heart kick up a notch and deliberately took a slow breath. Why the fuck had they chosen her for this assignment? She was no actress and an even worse conversationalist. But given what they’d had to work with, there had been little choice.
“Elisa’s out of the bathroom and talking to her friends. She’s sitting at a table to your right. Don’t go anywhere, but see if you can spot her.”
Looking deliberately bored, Caroline glanced idly around the room. There were the usual players you’d find in a place like this; groups of eighteen-year-olds trying to look cool; handsome men in tight-fitting jeans trying to get laid; middle aged women either trying to reclaim their lost youth, or well past giving a fuck and just out to get a night to themselves. And there, at a table to her right, just as Andre had said, was Elisa Graham, looking exactly like her photograph. Thirty-two years old, five-foot-seven, short, pale blonde hair. From stalking her various social media accounts and hacking her computer, they also knew she had an interest in motorbikes, dubstep, and headstrong women. Hence Caroline was chosen for this role. Sitting with Elisa were three ordinary-looking men and one woman whose hair was pulled back so tight it made her face seem distorted.
Finishing her slow sweep of the room, Caroline tried to spot her other target for the evening: Steven Chu, Noturatii operative. But she couldn’t catch a glimpse of him without making it look obvious, and subtlety was absolutely the highest priority for this assignment. It was imperative that the Noturatii not have the slightest suspicion they were being played.
Time dragged on, and out of sheer boredom, Caroline slowly sipped her drink. Bleh. She wished she’d brought some mints to get the taste out of her mouth.
“Stare at the table,” Andre’s voice suddenly came through her earpiece. “Don’t look up.”
Caroline did, working hard to keep her body relaxed. She fiddled with the straw in her glass, just for something to do with her fingers, knowing she’d never manage to ‘act natural’ if she just sat there like a stone.
“Chu’s seen you,” Andre reported a moment later. “He’s gone back to the far corner. Elisa’s
moving. Head for the bar to order another drink. You can ‘bump into’ her there.”
Fuck. It was game on, and Elisa had kindly given her absolutely no time to recover from the fact that Chu had seen her and therefore there was absolutely no way to back out of the rest of this façade. Shit, shit, shit...
“Bacardi and coke,” Elisa Graham told the bartender. “And a Corona, and a glass of house red.”
“Bacardi and coke,” a voice said beside her. “A woman after my own heart.”
Elisa looked up, not knowing whether or not she was going to have to put some over-confident arse-wipe in his place. The voice had been neither high nor low, and there was no waft of either cologne or perfume to give her...
Oh. Well, then.
“Indeed,” Elisa said dumbly, as she took in the sight before her. Leather trousers, lean body, tight black t-shirt and short black hair. The woman’s face was nice enough, high cheek bones lending her a classical look, but her eyes... Oh, those eyes were just bottomless, flecks of gold spinning in them like stars in a constellation. And the wry almost-smirk gave the impression that she was silently laughing at the rest of the world.
“Or am I mistaken, and the wine is yours?” the woman asked, when Elisa didn’t say anything else straight away.
“What? Oh, no, the Bacardi’s mine,” she said quickly. “The wine’s for my friend Dave. Sitting over there in the obnoxious t-shirt.” The woman glanced around, easily spotting Dave, who had decided to ‘blend in’ tonight with a fluorescent lime-green shirt. “He keeps telling me it’s illegal for anyone over the age of twenty-five to drink Bacardi, but I say fuck him.”
“Damn right,” the woman said. She slapped a ten pound note on the bar as the bartender set her own full glass in front of her. “Sorry if this lacks originality, but I’m not much of a one for small talk. So… do you come here often?”