Trickskin

by Amelia R. Moore

  Apparently his message had not been clear enough.

  No matter. Loken would paint it in blood, and whomever inherited Rossi’s empire would hopefully possess more self-preservation.

  The guards were smart enough to search him for weapons—he even made them obvious to give them a false sense of security—but they foolishly kept his daggers on their persons as they escorted him to Rossi’s office. It was an extravagant room, decorated with expensive and gaudy items. Gilden though his office might be, it was no more impressive to Loken than a studio apartment. He’d come from wealth, and this display was akin to a pauper playing prince.

  Ilario Rossi sat behind his desk like a king might a throne. He was a bulky man, but his build was far from the physique of a warrior. A slate grey suit completed his businessman persona, complimented by a red tie, full beard, and calculating eyes that completed the regal veneer. Then, Loken saw it. The twitch of his hand, likely seeking the comfort of his weapon. For all of his composure, Loken was now certain that Rossi was apprehensive of him despite his four guards. A valid assessment, but he’d not been wise enough to leave Loken be.

  “Where are the children?” he asked, completely dismissing whatever Rossi might have been planning to say.

  The twitch of his lips betrayed his irritation, but Rossi turned it into a smile. Like the one given to a petulant child. He waved his hand, and a guard herded two tear-streaked children into the room.

  Five and six years of age, the boy and girl were all that remained of Mrs. Naiara’s late-daughter, and she loved them to pieces. They were the center of her world, and Loken would do everything in his power to return them to her unscathed. It was the least he could do to repay her.

  He remembered being astonished when Mrs. Naiara left them in his care at the bookstore, on more than one occasion, while she rushed off to do an errand for the business. She trusted so boldly, accepted so completely, that she’d surpassed Loken’s defenses in no time at all. Her kindness was a painful echo of his mother’s.

  Loken viciously shredded the thought. He had no mother, and he needed no one’s care.

  “Shall we talk business, Mr. Locke?” Rossi asked, shattering the silence.

  Loken gazed unflinchingly back at the use of his false name, keeping his expression pleasantly neutral as he looked to the children once more. “Are you alright?”

  Sora nodded her head and sniffled, arms wrapped around her younger brother, Darby.

  Rossi continued, “With your...abilities, shall we say? You—”

  “Pardon the interruption,” Loken said, veiling his looming vengeance behind the courtesan he was raised to be. “But if I may speak plainly, I was having the most satisfactory of nights until your courier arrived.” Not particularly true, but his night had been infinitely better before this intrusion.

  Rossi feigned a smile, apparently willing to join him in this game of false politeness. “A regretful occurrence, but now you’re here. We should—”

  “‘I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel. I will bandy with thee in faction. I will o'errun thee with policy. I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways. Therefore tremble and depart,’” Loken quoted, continuing to smile as though unaware of the tension in the room.

  Although some of the men looked confused and uneasy, they did not act. Did these fools not recognize a predator’s leer?

  “I suggest you stop interrupting me,” Rossi growled, losing the pretense of civility.

  Loken had given them the option of retreat. It wasn’t his fault they hadn’t understood it. “Sora, Darby,” he addressed the children. “Do you remember how to play hide and seek? Close your eyes, cover your ears, and count to fifteen. I’ll hide.” He’d played this game with them no less than a week ago and was satisfied when they both did as he bid and began to count.

  “One...” They chanted in unison.

  Rossi was not at all pleased with being ignored. “I don’t think you understand the position you find yourself in—”

  “Two…”

  Loken was already in motion.

  “Three…”

  Speed had always been his greatest advantage, and he was far faster than any human. He’d retrieved one of his daggers before the goon ever reacted and buried it hilt-deep in his skull.

  “Four...

  Ripping it free, he liberated his second dagger, and rounded on his next target.

  “Five…”

  Crimson-coated metal flashed, dripping molten droplets as he moved.

  “Six…”

  By the time gunfire joined the battle, he’d created a clone of himself, making it dodge and duck the bullets as if they could actually harm the illusion.

  “Seven…”

  He dispatched the second man the same way he’d done the first.

  “Eight…”

  He slit the throat of the third, and as he choked and gasped, Loken whipped a dagger into the heart of the fourth.

  “Nine…”

  Knocking aside Rossi’s gun, Loken seized him by the throat, lifted him up until his feet dangled, and dispatched his duplicate. “Did you think I would be impressed by a man who hides behind babes?”

  Rossi attempted to reply, but Loken wasn’t interested in hearing his excuses. Without ceremony, he snapped the man’s neck and tossed him aside. After retrieving his daggers, he looked to the children who’d finished counting and were now looking at him with wide eyes. He knew what they saw. Their aunt’s friend, splattered with gore and in the midst of a room filled with bodies.

  And he’d enjoyed every second of it.

  His hands curled into fists, biting back the torrent of self-deprecating thoughts. He gathered Darby into one arm, took Sora’s hand, and walked them out of the building.

  He headed to the hospital. Though still riding the high of battle, he had the presence of mind to cleanse the blood from his clothes with magic before asking after Mrs. Naiara at the front desk. With two children at his side, they were all too willing to direct him to her room. Mrs. Naiara was either asleep or still unconscious, and Nora was resting in a nearby chair. Her aunt looked uncharacteristically delicate and still. That, combined with the bruise that blemished her face, enraged him. Perhaps he should have killed Rossi slower, he mused, as he ushered the children towards their grandmother. They climbed into bed with her, and just as he turned away, Nora’s voice cut through the darkness.

  “You’re not leaving, are you? What if they come back?”

  Why is that my problem? He bit back the retort when he turned to face her, silenced by the open fear in her eyes. “They won’t be,” he said instead, hoping the finality in his tone would end the discussion and soothe her.

  She narrowed her eyes, and he teleported to escape the scrutiny in her gaze. To his surprise, he’d merely returned to his apartment instead of fleeing across the country. He should pack and leave, he knew, but concern for Mrs. Naiara gave him pause. There was nothing he could do for her if she was unwell, but he couldn’t leave until he knew her condition. Humans were frail and short lived. It was foolish to get attached, but it was too late. He meticulously cleaned his daggers and then teleported to Mrs. Naiara’s home.

  Loken would wait until they returned from the hospital, until he knew they were alright, and then he would leave. He occupied his time cleaning up the house, removing blood and shattered glass, erasing all trace of the ordeal. Over an hour later, his right hand ghosted over his dagger when the front door creaked open.

  Nora eyed him before ushering the children to their rooms. Sora blinked at him cautiously as they passed, and Darby avoided his eyes. Fifteen minutes later, she emerged and came to stand across from him in the kitchen.

  “They’re okay,” she said.

  “They’re frightened,” he said flatly, keeping the bitterness out of his voice.

  “Yeah, but they know you saved them. That’s what matters.”

  Is it? He wondered how things could be so black and white for her. “And if I
massacred the men that took them?”

  She hesitated, and he waited for the horror to follow, feeling no satisfaction that he’d managed to shock her at last. He felt only self-disgust that he’d frightened someone who’d only ever foolishly helped him.

  “I can’t say I agree with it but...” Nora said at last.

  Loken gave her a skeptical look.

  “I’m an idealist. Not naive,” she snapped.

  He’d argue they were one in the same but, for once, he had no desire to prod her just for the sake of prodding her. “Mrs. Naiara?”

  Nora’s face twisted with anguish. “She has a concussion. One of those assholes hit her so hard…” She took a breath. “Her wrist shattered when she fell. She’s having trouble staying awake, so they’re keeping her overnight for observation. After that, they’ll schedule the surgery for her wrist. I have to...I’m going to have to see if my boss will let me have time off to look after the store…”

  Telling her that he planned on leaving seemed tactless in the face of her overwhelming dismay. Was slipping off without a farewell better? While it was true that they might still be in danger, it was unequivocally probable that his presence would ensure danger. They’d been after him. If he removed himself from the equation, these women would be safe.

  It was his fault they’d gotten caught up in all this.

  He turned to leave, at least for the night.

  “Lyall! Wait.”

  He ripped free when she grabbed his arm and whipped around to face her. She stumbled from the force, and he ignored the pang of guilt. It had been weeks since he’d underestimated his strength when compared to his human companions.

  As usual, his heated glare did not cow her. “This wasn’t your fault,” she said. “You know that right?”

  Loken met her piercing gaze, finding his apparent transparency alarming. Regardless, he sneered in response, as if the very notion he’d thought so was ridiculous.

  She didn’t buy it. “Stay the night?”

  His fight or flight instincts had always been quite healthy, and currently they were telling him to run. To go and never look back. Every day was another strand tying him to these humans. He’d been called worse than a coward.

  (Liar, cheat, kinslayer.)

  Nora didn’t look at him as a fabulist. She’d believe him if he said he’d stay. Did that make lying harder or easier? “You’re merely trying to coerce me into babysitting in the morning.”

  She smiled tiredly. “Caught me red-handed.”

  Loken took the ridiculous saying as a peace offering, knowing she’d used it on purpose, and gave a long-suffering sigh.

  Nora whacked him, and he dramatically winced in pain.

  She ignored him. “So?”

  “I’ll keep watch.” He let her infer what she would.

  She seemed to assume it meant he’d stay, and after bidding him goodnight, she retired to the guest room.

  Loken waited a half an hour, laid down a spell that would alert him of anyone entering the house, and left.

  He teleported to his apartment and quickly began to pack his meager possessions, burning with the need to leave. No matter where he went, he reasoned, he could teleport to Mrs. Naiara’s home in the blink of an eye if danger arose. His magic would alert him. Of course, that defeated the point, didn’t it? Physical distance only provided the illusion of space. To him, it was miniscule.

  Gathering the trinkets and books, most of which had been gifts, gave rise to guilt. Leaving now would be easiest, but how could he do so when Nora and Mrs. Naiara could still be in danger? Staying one more night with them would solve nothing. He needed to ensure that whatever remained of the Romans understood that they were off limits.

  He owed them that.

  Closing his apartment door for the last time, he made the return journey to the house on foot, giving himself time to plan. After dropping off his possessions, he would start with checking out the restaurant, he decided. There was always the chance that the bodies hadn’t been discovered. If so, he could search the building for information. It felt like a fool’s venture, but it was the only lead he had.

  Rather, that was his intent before he noticed he was being followed. It wasn’t obvious at first. In a city, it wasn’t unnatural for someone to be walking in the same direction, but he was just the right amount of paranoid. His potential stalker, he noticed, was obviously experienced. They weren’t blatant in their pursuit, pretending to be looking for some street or another. Loken wasn’t fooled. To test whether the person across the street was indeed tailing him, he turned into an alleyway, veiled himself, and waited.

  The stranger paused at the entrance of the alley, and Loken waited with predatory satisfaction. Drawing a gun, they entered the alley step-by-step, gaze sweeping.

  Pity they wouldn't see him coming.

  Loken struck like a serpent. He seized the stranger by the throat and slammed them into the wall, reigning in his strength so he didn’t kill them outright. Her, he realized, surprised to find his stalker was a slim woman. Though it was rare for Evoir women to be warriors, he supposed he didn’t know if the same was true for humans.

  “Wait,” she gasped, hands clasping his wrist. “You’re the man that took out Ilario Rossi.”

  He released her but not before he’d ripped her gun from her hand and tossed it further into the ally. He’d managed to survive this long without being shot, and he had no plans on finding out if bullets could hurt him. “Am I?” he said instead of admitting to anything. “And you are?” Either she was here for revenge or she was working for yet another organization he’d need to avoid.

  The woman pulled down her hood, revealing short, blonde hair and a soft, round face. She was lithe and far shorter than him, but he didn’t dismiss her as harmless. She’d managed to tail him for an undetermined amount of time, after all.

  “A potential ally,” she said.

  He snorted derisively. “I’m not interested.”

  She gave him a flat look. “You should have considered that before you went Rambo on the Romans.”

  Another earthen saying he didn’t know. He gave her an expression overwrought with boredom.

  “You just undermined a five month investigation. I just need to know if you’re going to tuck tail and run or if you’re going to get in my way again.”

  Loken laughed mockingly. “Implying I might be a coward? You must think me easily manipulated.” So, this woman was an undercover agent of some kind. A master of deceit. Like him. Despite—no, because of their similarities, he felt only weariness.

  With an inscrutable mien, she stared back at him. Then, suddenly, her expression turned pensive, and her light blue eyes widened as if she’d found something interesting. Trepidation flooded him, the irrational fear of being discovered. No, it wasn’t possible that she’d seen a hint of his true nature. His Evoir form was flawless. So flawless that it’d fooled even him.

  So, then, what had she noticed?

  He smirked, burying his unease by going on the offensive. “At least give me the honor of your name before you continue to insult me. I’m Lyall Locke.”

  “Amanda Smith.”

  “An alias? I’m wounded.” A stab in the dark.

  Amanda snorted. “You’re one to talk.”

  “A valid point.” There was no reason to deny it. “So you’ve come all this way to scold me for making your operation harder?”

  “I came to profile you.” She surprised him with honesty. “You’re a variable. I don’t like variables when I work.”

  Loken leered at her. “And did you learn anything?”

  An undecipherable emotion flickered in her eyes, but she said nothing. “I’ll let you know.”

  Oh, she was positively amusing. “How about a trade? You say I’ve ruined your investigation. Perhaps I can be convinced to help remedy that.”

  This woman might have information he could use if she’d truly been investigating Rossi. If she could help him, he could ensure Nora and Mrs.
Naiara’s safety quicker. Regardless of her admission, he wasn’t concerned with what she might know of him. He could disappear at a moment’s notice.

  She raised a brow. “Doesn’t sound balanced. Feeling altruistic?”

  “Don’t presume to know me or my motivations. If you’d like my aid, I suggest you speak before I grow bored and depart.” Loken wasn’t sure if she believed his harsh tone, but he was a master liar. Heartless wasn’t a hard mask to don.

  (It's your natural state.)

  She gave a calculating look before saying, “I’ve been undercover for months. The restaurant isn’t their main base, and Rossi wasn’t the kingpin. A man that calls himself the Archangel is. Few know his location, but I think we have a way in. There’s a second base across town.”

  Loken was no fool. There was a reason she was being so forthcoming, but he would bide his time. Play along. It wasn’t as if she was a true threat. “And I take it you know where their second base is?”

  “I do.”

  “Oh, this is going to be fun.” Loken smiled deviously. He might be able to eliminate his enemies and ensure the safety of Nora and Mrs. Naiara in one night.

  “According to Rossi, the Archangel wants you, and after today, he’s going to want you even more.” She ignored his innocent look. “I don’t know what you did to get his attention in the first place, but we can use it to our advantage.”

  “Oh, I so like it. Tell me, what is your plan? Do you think if you tell them you have my location, they’ll be so impressed that they’ll tell you where to find this Archangel?” He taunted her with a laugh, letting her know just how unclever he found her.

  Amanda smirked. “Not exactly.”

  Fifteen minutes later, he was handcuffed in the trunk of Amanda’s car, scowling at every bump in the road. He despised cars, but her plan was solid. She was going to bring him in, pretending to have captured him when he returned to the scene of the crime. After all, their enemies had no way of knowing how hard he was to subdue. The handcuffs were for show; he could snap them with little effort. Of course, Amanda didn’t know that, and he intended to keep the element of surprise. If she sought to betray him, she’d not find him an easy mark.