The Assassin's Folly
Chapter One
Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, illuminating the park for a brief second. Sitting on top of a picnic table was a young woman with fiery red hair and grey eyes. She sat with her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand. Her left foot was tapping impatiently.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement and spun quickly.
A tall, thin man was coming out of the trees. He seemed to glide rather than walk. His hair was white and his skin very pale. When he saw her, he grinned, showing a pair of fangs.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, pulling his cloak tighter around his body. “I was… held up.”
“I’m sure you were,” she said coldly. “We had an agreement.”
The man let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh yes. A murder for a life. But first I must ask you: why do you want to give up this wonderful life?”
“This isn’t a life,” she snapped. “Keep your end of the bargain, Damien!”
He smirked. “There’s one last thing I need you to do.”
She balled her hands into fists. “We agreed-”
“Hush,” he growled. “It’s very unladylike to interrupt a man when he’s talking. Now, as I was saying, there’s one last person that needs to be eliminated.” He handed over a folder wrapped in plastic to keep it safe from the rain. “You do this, and I will restore your humanity.”
She glared at him for a few moments before snatching it from his hand. She looked at the blood red folder and clenched her teeth.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” she said but, when she looked up, he was gone.
-
Zarah was 22 years old when she received the bite. Damien had been lurking in an alley near her home and snatched her as she was leaving for work. At first he was going to let her die but took a strange pity on her and took her to his haven. There she met other young vampires that he had turned and was trained in the ways of an assassin.
That was nearly 30 years ago and she resented each kill. Fifteen years ago, Damien had promised that he would restore her mortality if she served him faithfully and made 99 kills. She should have known that this would be the outcome of such an ‘arrangement.’
She walked back to her apartment – one she had purchased with the money she received for each kill – and cursed Damien. Of course he would do this to her. She was looking forward to being a normal member of society again. It had been many years since she last contacted her family; they all believed she had been kidnapped or worse.
Well, they’re a little right, she thought as she unlocked her apartment and flipped the lights on.
She wrapped her hair up in a towel and put some water on to boil for tea. She threw the folder on her table and opened her fridge, pulling out a can of cat food. On cue, her cat, Dimitri, jumped up on the counter. He was a tabby with brilliant gold eyes and an incredibly snarky attitude.
“So, how did it go?” he asked, stretching. Zarah dumped the cat food into a bowl with a sour look on her face. “That well, huh?”
“You were right,” she said bitterly, sliding it over to him. “He gave me another contract. He claims this will be the last one.”
“I told you he couldn’t be trusted.” Zarah sighed heavily and threw herself into the chair. “Why do you want to be human again, anyway?”
“I’m tired of killing people,” she muttered, taking the towel off and wringing out her hair. “Plus, it gets lonely with only your ass to talk to.”
“So go out more often,” he advised, licking up the last of the food. “And, for goodness sake, get me better food next time.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” she retorted. “You know why I can’t go out.”
“How many times do I have to tell you: You’ve controlled your blood lust!”
“But what if it gets out of control again?” she whispered and the cat sighed.
He jumped up onto the table and licked her hand. “You can’t keep killing yourself over that. It wasn’t your fault.”
Zarah scratched him behind the ears distractedly.
“So, who is the lucky 100?” he asked and she pulled the folder over.
It was thick which could only mean one thing: It would be a difficult kill. She gave another irritated sigh and flipped it open. Clipped to the front page was a picture of a very handsome young man. He had short brown hair with bangs that fell into green eyes. His smile suggested an easy going, laid back personality.
“His name is Jareth Adams,” she read, scanning his personal information. “He’s the heir to a multi-million corporation; oh great. Age is 24 and has two siblings, one of which he has a bad relationship with.”
“I wonder if it’s the sibling that arranged this.”
“It’s possible.” She ran her finger down the list of possible ways of killing him. “Classic Damien: he wants me to shoot him, poison the tip of an arrow, or slit his throat among many other things.”
“Are you going to go with your signature?”
“Most likely,” she said slowly. “But it’s going to be hard. His father’s health is failing so he’ll be protected.”
“Finally!” Dimitri said and she frowned at him. “This is an excellent opportunity for you!”
She blinked. “You can’t be serious. Toy with his emotions? This is exactly why I hate this business,” she growled and threw the folder onto the table where it flopped open to his picture.
“Why not?” the cat asked, walking over and tilting his head at the picture. “He’s handsome, isn’t he?”
“What’s the point when I can just infiltrate and slip some poison into his morning coffee?”
“Do you remember what got me in this wretched body?” he asked. She rolled her eyes. Here we go. “I got bored. I got sloppy. It would be a pleasant change, don’t you think?”
She looked at his picture. Dimitri was right, Jareth was very handsome. And winning his affections would be an easier way to slip him some poison than having to avoid cameras, security guards, and traps.
The kettle whistled and she poured some water in a mug, sliding in a tea bag.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
“That’s my girl.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement and spun quickly.
A tall, thin man was coming out of the trees. He seemed to glide rather than walk. His hair was white and his skin very pale. When he saw her, he grinned, showing a pair of fangs.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, pulling his cloak tighter around his body. “I was… held up.”
“I’m sure you were,” she said coldly. “We had an agreement.”
The man let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh yes. A murder for a life. But first I must ask you: why do you want to give up this wonderful life?”
“This isn’t a life,” she snapped. “Keep your end of the bargain, Damien!”
He smirked. “There’s one last thing I need you to do.”
She balled her hands into fists. “We agreed-”
“Hush,” he growled. “It’s very unladylike to interrupt a man when he’s talking. Now, as I was saying, there’s one last person that needs to be eliminated.” He handed over a folder wrapped in plastic to keep it safe from the rain. “You do this, and I will restore your humanity.”
She glared at him for a few moments before snatching it from his hand. She looked at the blood red folder and clenched her teeth.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” she said but, when she looked up, he was gone.
-
Zarah was 22 years old when she received the bite. Damien had been lurking in an alley near her home and snatched her as she was leaving for work. At first he was going to let her die but took a strange pity on her and took her to his haven. There she met other young vampires that he had turned and was trained in the ways of an assassin.
That was nearly 30 years ago and she resented each kill. Fifteen years ago, Damien had promised that he would restore her mortality if she served him faithfully and made 99 kills. She should have known that this would be the outcome of such an ‘arrangement.’
She walked back to her apartment – one she had purchased with the money she received for each kill – and cursed Damien. Of course he would do this to her. She was looking forward to being a normal member of society again. It had been many years since she last contacted her family; they all believed she had been kidnapped or worse.
Well, they’re a little right, she thought as she unlocked her apartment and flipped the lights on.
She wrapped her hair up in a towel and put some water on to boil for tea. She threw the folder on her table and opened her fridge, pulling out a can of cat food. On cue, her cat, Dimitri, jumped up on the counter. He was a tabby with brilliant gold eyes and an incredibly snarky attitude.
“So, how did it go?” he asked, stretching. Zarah dumped the cat food into a bowl with a sour look on her face. “That well, huh?”
“You were right,” she said bitterly, sliding it over to him. “He gave me another contract. He claims this will be the last one.”
“I told you he couldn’t be trusted.” Zarah sighed heavily and threw herself into the chair. “Why do you want to be human again, anyway?”
“I’m tired of killing people,” she muttered, taking the towel off and wringing out her hair. “Plus, it gets lonely with only your ass to talk to.”
“So go out more often,” he advised, licking up the last of the food. “And, for goodness sake, get me better food next time.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” she retorted. “You know why I can’t go out.”
“How many times do I have to tell you: You’ve controlled your blood lust!”
“But what if it gets out of control again?” she whispered and the cat sighed.
He jumped up onto the table and licked her hand. “You can’t keep killing yourself over that. It wasn’t your fault.”
Zarah scratched him behind the ears distractedly.
“So, who is the lucky 100?” he asked and she pulled the folder over.
It was thick which could only mean one thing: It would be a difficult kill. She gave another irritated sigh and flipped it open. Clipped to the front page was a picture of a very handsome young man. He had short brown hair with bangs that fell into green eyes. His smile suggested an easy going, laid back personality.
“His name is Jareth Adams,” she read, scanning his personal information. “He’s the heir to a multi-million corporation; oh great. Age is 24 and has two siblings, one of which he has a bad relationship with.”
“I wonder if it’s the sibling that arranged this.”
“It’s possible.” She ran her finger down the list of possible ways of killing him. “Classic Damien: he wants me to shoot him, poison the tip of an arrow, or slit his throat among many other things.”
“Are you going to go with your signature?”
“Most likely,” she said slowly. “But it’s going to be hard. His father’s health is failing so he’ll be protected.”
“Finally!” Dimitri said and she frowned at him. “This is an excellent opportunity for you!”
She blinked. “You can’t be serious. Toy with his emotions? This is exactly why I hate this business,” she growled and threw the folder onto the table where it flopped open to his picture.
“Why not?” the cat asked, walking over and tilting his head at the picture. “He’s handsome, isn’t he?”
“What’s the point when I can just infiltrate and slip some poison into his morning coffee?”
“Do you remember what got me in this wretched body?” he asked. She rolled her eyes. Here we go. “I got bored. I got sloppy. It would be a pleasant change, don’t you think?”
She looked at his picture. Dimitri was right, Jareth was very handsome. And winning his affections would be an easier way to slip him some poison than having to avoid cameras, security guards, and traps.
The kettle whistled and she poured some water in a mug, sliding in a tea bag.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
“That’s my girl.”