Heroine? Or Villain? That Is the Question.

"Myna," Jamie breathed, "You're still alive."

"No," the girl in front of him said, "Myna is dead. Call me Shadow, or Zillah, or Tora, but Myna is dead," she said with a sneer.

"But," Jamie began, "You were Myna when we were young. Why are you not now."

"Poor Jameson," Shadow said, "You do not understand. You always did have such a lovely life," Shadow sneered. "You had your mother to depend on, and such a reliable name. It means 'Son of James.' Pretty self-explanatory. Myna though? Would have ended up dead by 15, or a whore. Those were my options, I knew that when I left. And the name. Myna. The name isn't even real. Something my bitch of a mother made up. I hated that name. Now do you understand why I refuse to answer to it Jameson?"

"No, I don't," Jamie answered bravely. "It might not have been a real name before, but you could have made it one. And besides, what's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"What's in a name he asks," Zillah sneered. "Did you hear that Barsad. What's in a name indeed. And as for me making it a real name, bullshit! I was nothing up there, nothing! And that's what I would have been when I died. But here, well I am something more. How would you describe me Barsad?"

"Powerful," was the first word out of Barsad's mouth. "You are strong, quick, one of the most proficient killers that I have ever seen. A bit temperamental, but isn't everyone at times?"

Jamie's blood ran cold when Barsad had said that Myna was one of the most proficient killers he had ever seen. The girl was right. If she was a killer, she wasn't his Myna anymore. Myna would never have hurt a fly. Then Jamie realized that Barsad spoke without fear. He had practically insulted, what was it Barsad called the girl? Shadow? Barsad had practically insulted Shadow and she hadn't so much as flicked a finger at him. Perhaps she wasn't as strong as Barsad insinuated.

"So this is how you are described?" Jamie asked. "As a killer? If that is what you truly are, then you're right. Myna is dead."

Shadow smiled at this.

"But," Jamie said with an eyebrow raised looking Myna, no, Shadow straight in the eye, "How am I to trust the word of a man who keeps me prisoner. I need proof before I believe."

Shadow's eyes grew stormy. "You want proof?" she asked, producing a knife from somewhere, Jamie had no clue where. "I'll give you proof." she raised the knife to strike him. Jamie closed his eyes, hoping the blow would kill him instantly.

He waited, but the blow never came.

After a minute he opened his eyes and looked at Shadow. A hand had grasped her wrist. The biggest hand Jamie had ever seen. The hand was connected to an arm, the arm to a torso. When the picture finally came together as a man, Jamie couldn't believe his eyes. It was the biggest man he had ever seen. He looked like he could crush Shadow's wrist in a heartbeat, but instead he grasped it gently, as though all he really needed to stop Shadow was a finger. Yes, the man was large, almost clearing seven feet and at least two feet across, though he was not fat. No, he was pure muscle. But his largeness was not his most distinguishing factor. Oh no. That prize went to his face. Or rather, what covered his face. It seemed to be a mask of some sort. It covered his nose and mouth and continued behind his head where it fastened. It wasn't the sort of thing that came off easily. Or ever.

Then the man spoke. His voice was deep and raspy. "Pet of mine, I thought you wanted to keep him around. Would you really kill him so easily?"