Final Curtain

Nate's POV

Planning an assassination took time. Careful study of the person you were targeting. Was he/she a creature of habit? Did they have pets? Problems financially, at work, or otherwise? Were they married? Live alone?

I used to run a whole background check on my kills, see if they were dirty or just unlucky bastards.

Elaine fell on the poor-saps category. A true case of 'wrong place at the wrong time' sorta thing. Back in the Hive I would've turned down this job. The people I'd killed under contracted deserved it.

But this time... I didn't get to say no and go on with my fucked up life.

This time I hadn't studied my vic. Neither had Aric. All we knew was in the file that bastard handed over.

We were standing in an alley by a piled-up dumpster, casing the house for movement. Elaine had already gotten off work when we drove there, hoping to at least get a good look at who were going to execute. We'd come here—to her street—right after.

Aric apparently had some contacts in NY because he'd managed to hook us up with an old Ford. Old cars were better for getaways, not to mention easier to ditch afterwards. With no GPS it would be impossible for them to track it. And we were planning on taking it to a junkyard and burn the old ugly thing, just in case DNA traces like hair, blood, etc, got on it.

"We better go through the back," he whispered shifting the leather jacket left, covering his gun.

I pulled on my dark hoodie, tucking the blond hair from sight. Aric was lucky to have dark hair. Mine was always a beacon for trouble when spotted.

"Best locking picking skill?" I asked looking at the light shinning through a second floor window—the bedroom. I'd seen her undressing minutes ago, well, her silhouette. The curtains were all drawn.

"Well," Aric's uncanny eyes side-glanced me. "I used to be a thief."

"Okay, you do it." I trusted my skills, I knew ever lesson I'd been taught inside and outside the Hive, bit the I did today... the less guilt I'd feel when I looked into Mel's eyes ocean eyes. No matter how I looked at this situation, no matter how much I told myself this was for a good reason—to save Melissa—it didn't make it right. And she'd say that.

Aric and I waited in the smelly back street for more than an hour, clock was almost rounding midnight when the street quieted it to a safe pace. House and apartment lights had gone out long ago, including Elaine's.

Taking a deep breath, I slipped outside the shadows keeping my head down and avoiding street lamps as o walked for the crosswalk. Ironically, I was more worried about being hit by cars than about being booked for a murder attempt.

Aric was coming up behind me, covering our backs as we progressed. I was the first to go around the house and jump over the wooden fence, I actually felt my muscles pull and distend—like a machine that's been shut down for too long.

Great. On top of everything else, push-ups and sit-ups weren't doing the trick. One more thing to add to a growing list:

- Keep in shape

Of course first thing on my list was 'kill Nolan. For real this time'. Okay—it was 'kiss Melissa and every inch of her skin'. But still, killing him was second.

The back door was very similar to the front one, only this door was all glass from its middle up. The lock looked easy as hell to pick, though.

The garden was small, a few potted plants here and there. The ground was all grass, which was good—dirt would've left footprints.

I moved to the door once Aric jumped. He dug a picking lock set from his back pocket, kneeling on the single marble step, putting his face level with the lock.

My eyes kept darting to the neighbor houses, my ears listened for any tiny sound telling us to lay low—but there was nothing. Not in the small time gap my half-brother took to make the door 'click'.

Looking down, I saw a private smirk. He was proud. Rolling my eyes, I tapped his shoulder pointing two fingers into the inside. There was no time to waste. Two AM was fast on approaching. I needed evidence the woman was dead before then.

Aric pushed open the door, a wide enough opening for us to slip in.

The kitchen was clean-smelling, the dishwasher was working, flashing a tiny red light into the blackness. Using the small lantern I'd bought at a convenience store, I flashed it so we wouldn't bump our way though the whole place. Stirring clear of the stools and really small table, we entered the hall/living room.

A squeaking sound squeezed the air out of my lungs.

Aric mumbled a curse under his breath.

We waited.

Nothing.

Feeling my foot still on top of something squishy, I flashed the light down. Under my boot was a rubber clown.

I blinked once. Twice.

No way, I thought. But as I surveyed the rest of the living room, I saw it was true. Action figures were scattered across the floor, even Xbox was set up by the TV.

This woman... She had a kid. A son, by the looks of it.

Fuck me.

Inside my head I heard my parents' voices saying "this is why you plan and study first, no nasty surprises".

"Come on," I heard behind me, just a whisper.

This... It changed things. Right? I couldn't go through with killing an innocent woman while knowing she was a kid's parent, I couldn't leave the kid an orphan... I... I couldn't be Vincent. I couldn't do what he'd done to me. Because for all I knew his Dad was dead or didn't know he existed, on the file it said Elaine was single.

Had Nolan known? Was this some kind of sick test to see how far I'd go for Melissa?

"Nate," Aric hissed. "We have to get this over with before..."

For a minute, I thought my glare shut Aric up. Then, I heard wood creak from ahead, where the stairs were, and my veins ran icy-cold.

On the fourth or fifth stair—I didn't really care—was a boy. Couldn't be more than six or seven. He'd reach Mel's hip, so not very tall, and he had messy dark hair. Plus the kid looked very sleepy, half-rubbing an eye, half-eying us.

"Who are you...?" The lantern almost fell from my hand when he slurred.

Aric kept quiet, standing in the shadows. I couldn't come up with anything—what would I say? We've come to kill your Mother? Why? Well, because some bad people have my girlfriend and, you know, her life is more important to me—sorry.

I couldn't see that going over very well with anyone, least of all a...

"Aric...?" I didn't say his name often—not sure why—but this time I hadn't time to stop myself.

"Shut up," he ground, aiming the gun he'd pulled free. In the darkness I still saw the extension of a silencer—couldn't have people hear us. "Nolan doesn't joke around. He'll kill her—or worse."

That's when the shot rang out.

I heard it, because silencers didn't make guns that much more silent—they helped in many other factors like reducing a shooter's fatigue, the accuracy of the bullet—but shooting in a small space could also permanently damage hearing, so, the silencer masked the gunshot enough that people wouldn't identify it as one.

The thump was much more audible. More than the shot, more than the boy's wheeze of pain before he fell, rolling down the stairs like a potato sack. He stopped inches from our feet. There was nothing I could except stare. The flashlight was aiming at him, blood was pooling under the boy's unmoving body.

It... it was such a small body.

I shrugged the hand on my shoulder, pointing the light at Aric's face.

"How could you just... He was a kid, Aric." My voice faded out. "Jesus..." I rubbed the side of my face. He was a kid—a perfectly healthy kid, with a perfectly normal life.

"What did you want to do? Kill his Mother and leave him alive—alone? Because that would've been so much smarter, especially when he saw our faces."

"I..."

Sarah had been the only innocent I'd killed. An accident. This... I'd never done this.

"Come on," he repeated, voice gentler. Reminded me of Mel's. "We need to finish before she waked up and calls the cops."

Now that was a party I did not want.

Breathing in and clenching my jaw, I lifted a foot over the small body. Aric did the same, watching out for the spreading blood. Heart still hammering, I went up the stairs spotting an open bedroom. It was—had been—the kid's.

Aric moved past it fast, not even looking inside. Smart choice. I followed him as he pushed the door at the end of the hall. Elaine had dark hair just like her son, she was sleeping deeply on her side. The bedroom was a square with a queen bed in the middle, a dresser was close to the window where she'd undressed in front of. Besides an arm chair and what looked like a walk-in closet, there was nothing more.

Aric glanced over a shoulder. I felt like a complete idiot amateur standing at the entrance.

"Go get Carter ready and bring him in. I'll take care of this."

My gut twisted. Pride wanted me to stay, see this through myself because Melissa was in danger and I would kill this woman for her sake, but... another part of me, a part Mel had touched and grew over the last couple of months wanted me to let Aric do this.

Wanted me to walk away.

My gloved hand gripped the threshold.

Stay or go?

I let out a long exhale glaring at the ceiling. She would want me to walk away.

So, I did.

***

Making sure no one was out on the street, I ran toward the alley where our old car was. Carter was in the trunk, totally out of it. Carter was going to be our human-decoy. He was between me and Aric in height, same shoe size—which was why we were wearing matching boots we'd purchased at Walmart.

I hadn't been about to let Carter go. He'd taken Melissa. So, since we needed to get rid of him, why not set him up? Make it look like he'd killed those people. The cops would write it off as a burglary-gone-wrong. Junky was looking for money to pay off debts, buy more drugs, it was solid.

I opened the trunk.

Carter looked bad. Like shit, really. I could smell sweat and death wafting from the car, not to mention the bruises under his eyes.

Aric had injected enough heroin to write the dude's obituary. He was close to ODing.

I haled his ass outside, throwing one arm around my shoulders and another around his waist. As we crossed the street I fought the urge to let him fall flat on his face, maybe be hit by a car? I threw him over the fence none-too-gently. Once on the flip-side, I carried him in.

Aric was down in the kitchen, arms crossed. My eyes flinched against the harsh light.

"Point that thing away," I growled. With a soft, humorless chuckle, Aric lowered the flashlight. "It's done?"

"Done. Already took a photo and sent it to Nolan. Already deleted said photo." Good call. "This was all the money and cards she had on her. There was no jewelery." Aric showed me two cards and a few twenty and fifty bills.

I took them from him, planting the goods on Carter. The bastard let out a gurgle. I rolled my eyes, shoving the dumbass into the table. With no balance, he fell and stayed there. Aric walked over placing the gun he'd used near Carter's reach.

"There," he breathed. "Everything is set. We can leave."

Just like that, it was done.

He'd killed a child and a woman and incriminated a druggie, and it was done—so fast.

My eyes followed to the living room, where I knew the boy's cold body was, bleeding. Dead.

"Lets go, little brother. We're done here."

He slipped around me, I let him, before snatching the lantern off the counter and leaving. We left the backdoor open, since it was supposed to be a break-in and Carter hadn't made it out.

At the black ford, my muscles relaxed.

You shot a kid in cold blood, I wanted to say, but there was nothing coming out of my mouth, so, I shut it. Aric was driving us to a junkyard in Queens, a guy he knew left the gate open for us and gasoline so we could torch this baby.

Every minute I spent driving away from Manhattan was hell. I wanted to turn the damn car around and speed to Mel's apartment. If Nolan didn't keep his end of the bargain I was going to hunt him down, gouge his little eyes out and put them in a jar.

The wiry gates were open, just as promised. Aric made a left and we found pieces of cars laying around, half-burned tires, washed up car doors—it was a real cemetery. We got out, and soon, we had the Ford coated front-to-back with gasoline. All that was left was for me to lit a match—

I did.

The whole thing went up in flames in a matter of seconds and no matter how interesting it would be to see it explode, we started making our way to the exit. There were booms as we left.

I pushed down the bitter reminder of my Mustang being blown to bits and pieces.

We walked a couple of blocks—a lot of blocks—until we reached Aric's place. I changed out my dark hoodie and jeans, replacing them with a clean navy shirt and faded jeans. I tossed everything—boots included—into an industrial bag. We'd have to take care of that too.

"Anna's meeting us at your place," Aric called as he came down the stairs. He'd changed into a gray sweater and tailored jeans. No one would say we'd been out murdering people. "Aw, don't you look all doled up."

"Fuck you." I walked for the door, feeling two hot spots on my cheeks. I might have shaved.

"Don't be so defensive. I'm sure Melissa appreciates your soft side." There was a smirk as he walked to the driver's side. "And you were looking gruff, little brother. I'm not sure if a full beard suits you."

Whispering prayers for self-control, I shoved myself into the cramped space of Aric's viper.

Normally, I walked around with a little stubble. Mel liked that. But ever since she'd been taken... I hadn't bothered with my look. In almost three weeks, I'd grown a big ass beard.

Aric turned on the radio.

I feel irrational,
So confrontational,
To tell the truth I am
Getting away with murder!
It isn't possible,
To never tell the truth...

The blaring lyrics made my eyebrows climb my forehead. He changed stations fast.

...I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire
Don't touch me I'm a real live wire
Psycho Killer!
Qu'est-ce que c'est?
fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away
Psycho Killer...

"You've gotta be kidding me." I muttered hitting the shuffle button again.

Oh, oh, you're a loaded gun
Oh, oh, there's nowhere to run,
No one can save me
The damage is done—

I would've punched the damn radio if Aric hadn't shut it off.

"I'm good with silence," he said, sinking his foot on the accelerator. A small grin twisted my lips.

***

If I wasn't already claustrophobic, I would've become one tonight. The elevator ride to our floor was the longest ever—longer than when I learned she'd been taken.

My legs were a shaking mess. All I wanted to do was bust into our apartment, find her there safe and sound, wrap my arms around her and never let go.

When the doors parted, I ran out, fishing the keys out of my pocket and shoving it in the lock—twisting.

The whole world fell away the second I stepped inside—because there—on the couch, was her. She was pale, dark smudges painted her face and her clothes were all wrinkly. But it was her. My chest heaved with massive relief.

I literally fell on my knees beside the couch.

Somewhere behind me I heard the door closing, but all I could see was Melissa. Her eyes were closed tight, there was a little wheezing in her breathing—reminding me of when Aric shot the boy, I winced.

My eyes got hold up on her wrists.

Frowning, I reached for her delicate hands, tugging back the sweater's sleeves.

On each wrist were two pink lines—scars. They went all around her arm, like a burning cord had been wrapped around them. They were as wide as my index finger.

Rage swept me up.

These looked like second degree burns. It would never disappear—the best she could hope for was for them to look like sunburns, deep sunburns.

I threaded our fingers, lifting her left wrist to my mouth. I kissed it. I did the same with the other. Scars didn't bother me, Melissa would always be beautiful to me, nothing could change it. A body was a body. What matter was the inside.

But I wanted to put Nolan through a wall for hurting her—for daring to touch her.

"That looks bad," Aric whispered from behind me. "The apartment's clean. No one but us."

"Nolan's a dead man when I get my hands on him."

"You can bet on that."

My eyes dove from the scars to her face. She was twitching.

Breath catching in my throat, I cupped her face in my hands. I felt the starts of a smile...

Mel's blue-green mixed eyes fluttered.

Yeah, I was totally smiling now.

"Hey, princess," I whispered, knocking a greasy russet hair off her cheek. "I missed you..."

Her eyes had been tired, sleepless and dull. But when I inched closer she... she went ballistic. Melissa shoved at my shoulders so suddenly I lost balance, rocking back, landing flat on my ass.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she exploded in a hoarse voice that sounded strangely sexy.

Not that her face stated anything fun. Mel looked like a pissed off lioness.

"Melissa, calm down. You're home," Aric stepped in. "Nolan made a deal with us. You're safe."

Mel blinked up at her brother. Her hand was curled tightly on a pillow.

"Nolan?" she shook her head. "I don't know a Nolan! I know him!" She pointed accusingly my way, leaving me more and more flabbergasted. "He's a... a killer! And a kidnapper. He... Oh my God..." Mel backed herself into the couch, a look of horror crossing her face. "He killed... You killed my parents. In the kitchen you... you killed them and we were—I woke up..."

Her head darted back and forth, taking the apartment. All of her body language screamed afraid. And I... I didn't understand.

I got up, shooting my hands to her shoulders. She stilled like a statue.

"What are you talking about?"

In a flash, a small, powerful fist beat against my chest.

"Get your hands off me...!"

"Mel," the begging in that three letter word—her name—made me weak in the knees. "Melissa..."

She didn't listen. She kept beating her fists against me, my shoulders, my chest—one fist actually hit my chin.

"Let go of me! Help—this man killed my parents—help!"

Aric came out of his stupor, racing from the couch's side towards us. His hand clamped over her mouth. My brother shoved me away, wrapping a free arm around Mel's lithe waist, tipping their bodies so they'd fall on the couch.

I was... I didn't know what I was.

"Mel?"

Russet hair whiplashed Aric's face, covering hers as she struggled. It was a losing fight. She was so weak, so frail, so pale, her hair so badly nourished.

"Melissa," he tried to sound even. "Do you know me? Do you know who I am?"

Mel stopped, eyes trained on Aric. Their stare held for so long I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Slowly, Aric lifted the hand off her mouth.

"Do you know me?"

Swallowing, she shook her head, "No. I don't." The air left the room. Or maybe it was just life punching me in the gut.

"What about him? Do you know his name?"

Her eyes didn't even move to me as she spat, "Yes."

"Who is he?"

"I just told you—he's a killer. He killed my parents and he... I woke up in his car. But now... now we're here again..."

"Melissa," I took a step forward.

She jumped to the far end of the couch, away from Aric. From me. She was running from me. Scared of me. I could see it in her eyes, it was the same type of fear she'd regarded me with the first day we'd met.

That's when everything she'd been saying clicked.

She didn't know Nolan.

I was her parents' killer.

She didn't know Aric.

She'd woken up in my car...

Slowly, I felt it. A steady ache taking up my chest, clawing my heart into a thousand pieces.

"Melissa," Aric asked gently, obviously noticing I'd only now understood. "How old are you?" Melissa's hair fell forward, hiding her expression. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you—neither will he. I promise. No one will hurt you."

"He murdered my parents..." she sniffed.

Good God.

Why not just stake me?

"Anna is coming over, okay? She's going to... explain things to you." She frowned. "Just tell me how old you are?"

She sighed.

"I'm twenty years old. Why?"

Twenty had been her age when we met, almost six months ago.

She'd turned twenty-one two months back, which meant...

Aric shared a long meaningful look with me.

It meant she'd forgotten the last months of her life.

Everything.

Including us.