by C. G. Hatton
If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. “Then you know what I can do. If this is the Assassins, if they’re behind this, I know ways to get to them.”
He looked up, cheated and took that knowledge freely from her mind at the same time as she was cheating and calling in Martinez, hurrying her up to get her ass in here before NG took off by himself again.
‘How touching. They really care for you. It’s a shame they will all die. Sooner or later, Nikolai, they – all – die.’
He threw another handgun into the bag and grabbed a hooded sweatshirt from the bunk. He was cold, the fury inside turning to an icy chill.
He turned round to face Evelyn.
She was torn between furious and scared. “They’re doing this to get to you.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“NG, we’re the Thieves’ Guild,” she whispered harshly. “What happened to ‘no one messes with the Thieves’ Guild’?”
“I don’t care about the fucking guild, Evelyn. I quit.”
She was shocked. “NG, don’t.”
“Too late. I’m going after Devon. Don’t follow me and don’t send anyone after me.”
Brandon died quickly on a lonely hillside on some two bit planet in the Between. He was incapacitated before he realised NG was there and knew nothing worth the effort of keeping him alive. Ki was another matter.
Ki’s ego was almost matched by his talent as an assassin. Almost. Except there was too much at stake and he blew it.
NG kneeled on the guy’s chest, one hand squeezing his throat, rain pouring down on them.
“Where is she?” he murmured.
Ki blinked rain out of his eyes, every muscle tensed.
Thunder rumbled overhead and lightning streaked across the black of the sky, flashing off the buildings that towered over them on every side. The alley was deserted, broken windows and scurrying rats the only sullen observers to the sorry end of one of the Assassins’ best. An occasional arc of headlights passed at a distance, the city going about its late night business with no idea what was happening in its shadows.
Blood trickled down NG’s forearm, mingling with the raindrops as it ran down onto his hand. They were both breathing heavily, both bruised and both cut.
‘Let me kill him slowly.’
NG pushed his thumb down into the soft flesh of Ki’s throat. “I think I can manage,” he whispered to himself, out loud. He took the information he needed, and more, from the twisted memories of the assassin, increasing the pressure subtly and ignoring the twitching struggles as the guy began to realise there was no way out.
The Assassins’ Guild and the Thieves’ Guild had always had a special relationship, guarded, distant but respectful. No treading on toes. It was one he’d nurtured for a long time and it was over. Whatever had happened, whatever had prompted them to take the contract, there could be no turning back now.
He raked through Ki’s mind and took secret codes and meeting place coordinates, codenames and arcane signals, as ancient as the hills on Earth from before time and sacred to the Assassins, half of it not even in the guy’s conscious memory.
Ki was every bit the asshole Devon had described. He knew she’d been enticed back into the fold with a deception she couldn’t refuse, an offer to renegotiate the contract out on NG. Ki had been part of it and he’d taunted her.
He didn’t know where she’d been taken and he died in slow agony as the rain intensified and beat down around them in torrents.
Badger was waiting on the roof, standing on the edge of the parapet and watching the lights of the city below, drenched through, black hair plastered against his face, rain streaming down the black lenses of his glasses.
He didn’t move as NG approached but said, “Did you get anything?”
NG stood next to him, staring out over the skyline. Forks of lightning streaked down to freeze frame the skyscrapers in sudden silhouette. “He didn’t know where she is.”
“Damn. What now? You want me to find Farro?”
Badger was good, the best deep cover agent the guild had ever had, even displaced from his usual haunt as he was. By the time NG had caught up with him, he’d already tracked down two of the assassins on the list and to ask so casually if NG wanted him to find Farro, the head of the Assassins’ Guild, wasn’t arrogance, it was business as usual regardless of the dramas unfolding in every direction.
NG shook his head. He knew exactly where Farro would be thanks to his foray into Ki’s mind. And he could now read the note. He wasn’t about to admit it to Badger or anyone, but he knew exactly where Farro had Devon and where he had been so cordially invited to go.
Badger scuffed the toe of his boot along the rim of the wet stonework. “I heard that Zang is trying to make amends with some of his old adversaries,” he said softly.
I don’t care anymore, NG thought desperately but he said, “If you get anything on Zang, get it to the Chief and make sure it filters through to Pen Halligan on Aston.”
Pen was due his vengeance and would make sure the job was finished.
Badger nodded. “Ballack’s making a lot of noise. There are rumours doing the rounds that he’s setting himself up as some kind of peacemaker between Earth and Winter.” Where we used to be, he was thinking.
“Concentrate on finding Zang,” NG said, numb. Maybe once he was done with the Assassins, he’d go after the son of a bitch that had started all this.
Badger looked round. “Everyone’s trying to find Zang. Trust me, you’ll know if I even find out where his PA has been having lunch lately.”
Security around the old planet was tighter than ever. Still no match for someone with all the contacts and resources from a lifetime with the Thieves’ Guild.
NG stood in the shadows, hood up, head down, a bloodied knife in one hand and a silenced pistol in the other. He stood in silence, breathing in the cold damp air of the old city, mildew and moss creeping out of its stonework, corruption and intrigue seeping out of its pores. Old Earth decay at its finest.
The courtyard was lit sparsely by yellow lamps that cast pale light over the dark, grotesque statues that lined the winding pattern of stone pathways leading to its centre, twisted figurines with outstretched bony limbs of stone that seemed to reach and point. On every side, the crooked building of the Assassin’s headquarters loomed in darkness, nooks and crannies filled with leering gargoyles, eyes watching from every dark window and leaning roof edge.
The trail of bodies he’d left to get this far was an undisguised declaration of war. He hadn’t been subtle. Devon was kneeling, slumped, in the centre of a paved square, hands tied behind her back and a hood over her head. She was conscious but only barely, cold and fading. They’d pulled her out into the open as soon as he began his assault. They knew he was close but they didn’t know he was inside their walls.
NG glanced to his left and right. There was a body at his feet, blood still pumping from its throat. Three other figures were standing behind ornate columns around the rest of the covered walkway that edged the building, oblivious to his presence, weapons in hands, watching their former compatriot and the trap they’d set.
He walked, in perfect calm silence, to the first and slit her throat before she could react. He dropped her to the floor and moved forwards, a single silenced shot to the head taking out the next before he could give any alarm. The third assassin was turning, raising his gun. It took no effort, even at this distance, to throw him backwards, the man dying as synapses tore in overload, the sheer force of the mental attack hitting the soft tissue of the assassin’s brain.
‘Nice.’
NG didn’t miss a step, turning and walking along the path out into the open towards Devon. He sheathed the knife as he walked steadily and pulled out another gun, one in each hand, firing at the lamps and plunging the courtyard into a deepening darkness as each shot extinguished a pale arc of light. He didn’t stop for a second, glancing around as he walked, five more watching assassins dying at their
posts, brains fried, hearts stopped dead.
‘You’re almost beginning to impress me,’ Sebastian whispered, revelling in the death surrounding them.
It meant nothing.
NG walked up to Devon and knelt, weapons rising all around, mouths opening to shout, fingers tightening on triggers, as he hugged her shoulders and drew her close.
He took her to a forest and sat with her on a fallen tree, shafts of sunlight spearing through the canopy of green, warmth on their faces and the scent of fresh leaves in the air.
Devon turned to him, reaching a hand to touch his cheek, a light in her eyes that made his breath catch in his chest.
She smiled, a curious look of confusion crossing her face as if she was trying to remember something. She blinked slowly and reached out her other hand, studying it, turning and stretching every one of her perfect fingers.
“This isn’t real,” she said softly.
“Nothing’s real.”
She smiled sadly. “You can’t save me, Nikolai. I’m dying. Why are you here?”
“I…” And he couldn’t say it. He felt bereft. He couldn’t heal her enough as much as he tried.
“I thought I could speak to Farro,” she said quietly.
He’d never heard her sound so defeated and it hurt more than he’d ever thought was possible.
“I thought I could reason with him.” She laughed and it wasn’t harsh or bitter. Her eyes were sparkling in the sunlight, glints of silver and gold in her hair. “We used to have a code. No longer it seems.”
She smiled again, softly brushing his face with her hand. She thought she was dreaming, hallucinating, and that hurt even more.
Her gaze suddenly shifted to a spot behind him and she frowned slightly, curious again.
“I hate to break this up,” he heard Sebastian say, “but we don’t have time for this.”
The breeze suddenly had a cold edge. NG turned his head, following Devon’s look as Sebastian walked up to them. He could feel Sebastian trying to take control and found it surprisingly easy to stop him.
“I don’t understand,” Devon said softly.
Sebastian was the spitting image of him with the only exception being his eyes, a startling shade of bright blue.
“I’m not going to let you get me killed, Nikolai,” Sebastian said.
Devon turned back to NG. “You have a twin?” thinking it was bizarre, wondering why the hell NG’s brother would turn up in her hallucination.
Sebastian wasn’t impressed. “I’m not his twin,” he said, sounding disgusted at the thought, “and I’m not going to stand aside while you get me killed.”
“I don’t understand,” Devon said again, frowning.
“There are at least twenty assassins descending on this courtyard, sweetheart, and I, for one, don’t believe in noble sacrifices.”
“You’re not here,” she said.
“Unfortunately, we are,” Sebastian sneered, “and we’re not alone. What the hell are you doing, Nikolai?”
Devon stared back at NG, shaking her head, starting to comprehend. “What are you doing?”
“He’s giving up,” Sebastian said with disdain. “And there’s a goddamned assassin pointing at gun at his head, at my head. Fifty feet away and moving in.”
“I came to save you,” NG whispered.
She moved her hand to take hold of his. “Nik, it wasn’t the Merchants’ Guild that hired the Assassins.”
“I don’t care.”
“You need to care. Listen to me. It wasn’t Ballack. And the Order wants you alive. Zang has no reason to take you out of the picture. You need to think who else is in play here. Think. Why would someone want you dead?”
She was dying and all she could think about was him.
She moved closer, the sunlight catching sparkles in her eyes. “The biometrics they have on you came from inside the guild.”
“I don’t care.”
She squeezed his hand. “I came here to save you,” she said calmly. “Don’t let that be in vain.”
NG was desperately trying to temper down the desperation eating at his heart. “Devon, I’m not even real,” and he opened his mind, sharing with her everything the Man had said, everything Sebastian had taunted him with, the Order, the alien threat, the underlying truth behind the guild and the fact that he didn’t exist except as a creation of the Man’s twisted manipulations.
Whatever was going on in the real world, time here was different. He had control over it. The sunshine was bright and warm and he wanted to be with her forever.
“Thirty feet and closing,” Sebastian said.
Devon leaned in and kissed NG softly, nothing like the way she used to, that rough veneer of cold indifference gone. “You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met, NG,” she whispered, staring into his eyes. “You are more real than anyone I know. And I care for you more than I’ve ever been able to dare admit.”
He opened his mouth to argue and she stopped him with a finger to his lips. “I love you,” she murmured.
“Twenty feet.”
NG wrapped his arms around her, holding tight and burying his head into her shoulder.
“You are real and you have to finish this, Nikolai,” Devon whispered into his ear and he felt her slipping away. “For me.”
Reality snapped back with a chill. Devon was gone and he lay her gently down on to the cold stones, holding his hand on the back of her neck for a long moment before moving.
‘Ten feet.’
NG stood in a fluid motion and turned, both guns firing. He dived off to the side and rolled, lurching up into a run, jumping over the low ornate walls, and heading for the double doors that led to Farro. The anger burning inside was cold and it was his, not Sebastian’s.
He shoulder charged the door and ran inside, firing the guns until the magazines ran dry then he stood in the centre of the dark wide corridor, turning slowly, head bowed as he calmly slammed in fresh magazines, eyes glinting and glaring around with enough force behind them to send bodies flying in all directions.
He walked to the wooden staircase, deflecting thrown knives, darts and bullets with ease, feeling the assault increase as he approached the heart of their stronghold, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. The long corridor was lined with drapes and tapestries, centuries old. He paused at the door to Farro’s den and turned, dropping one of the guns and raising his hand, palm up. It took nothing to manipulate the energy that was burning inside him to spark the intense heat of a flame that he flicked into the drapes. They were engulfed in seconds.
He turned, flames roaring into life behind him, and pushed open the door to aim his sights between the eyes of the leader of the Assassins, leader of the guild he’d just annihilated.
Chapter 22
She was shocked. “The repercussions of this are vast.”
“He made it personal. That was a mistake.”
“How could he have reacted otherwise? You said, he takes care of his own. Did you know she was in danger?”
“No,” he lied. He took a drink. He had known and he had underestimated Nikolai.
She couldn’t read his mind but she looked straight through him, doubt in her mind. She considered questioning his reply but thought better of it and said instead, “The Order must be laughing in their gilded towers. The Assassins’ Guild and the Thieves’ Guild at war, and it doesn’t cost them a penny. Do you know who put up the five hundred million?”
He lowered the goblet. “No.” Honest answer that time. Someone had put this price on the head of his most favoured charge, and none of his investigations had yielded so much as a lead, none, and he had thrown significant resources at it, valuable resources from outside the guild. “Whoever it was,” he said, “has been very careful to conceal their identity. In all this, it is that contract that has caused the most instability.”
•
He woke in a cold sweat, disorientated and shaking. Soft sunlight was sneaking through a gap in shutters that took him
a moment to recognise but when he did, his heart rate settled and he relaxed back onto the crisp pillows.
Arturo had welcomed him with open arms and no questions. It felt like he’d been running through a nightmare forever and to wake in the midst of a warm, safe fortress was a relief that he knew was a lie.
Everything hurt. He was tired, more than tired, he was drained, and it was a while before he became aware of the presence in the room, a quiet, strong aura sitting patiently off to the side.
NG turned his head slowly, neck muscles complaining even at that slight movement.
The Chief didn’t stir. His face simply twitched into a half smile and he said softly, “Hey,” satisfied now that NG had finally come round. “No one messes with the Thieves’ Guild, right?”
It was a mantra he’d instilled in everyone and hearing it then was strangely comforting.
NG lay there quietly, drifting back under, thinking nothing, letting every muscle in his whole body relax. He’d lost people before, many times. But he’d never lost himself.
It was dark when he woke again. The Chief was still there, a quiet giant sitting vigil over him. It didn’t feel like he deserved such dedicated attention.
NG stared at the ceiling.
He was sore, stiff muscles protesting, cuts and abrasions stinging. He couldn’t recall picking up the deep gash on his forearm or the nicks across his knuckles. He did remember the slashing pain that had sliced across his throat as they’d piled in trying to overpower him.
They’d all died.
Sebastian laughed. ‘Do you know how much I enjoy watching you get hurt? You think you’re feeling miserable now that you know the ‘truth’? The truth is you’ve always had a masochistic streak in you, Nikolai. You’ve always been more than prepared to place my body in harm’s way to satisfy this bizarre need you have to play the hero, for people you don’t even care about. That’s the lie, ‘NG’. Right there. Face it. You don’t give a shit for any of these people. They’re ants scurrying around our feet, living and dying as we watch, generation after generation. We’re the next evolutionary leap and these scum will be like marauding peasants on a witch hunt if they even start to suspect how different we are. You should be racing to find Zang to ally with him, not fight him, you fool. Now haul your ass out of bed and find out what’s so urgent that your beloved section Chief has been twitching to wake you up for the past five hours. Unless you want me to handle it…’