It was my first time killing someone. The way his throat gargled, begging for mercy as I slit his throat, the gash leaving an outlet for the gushes of blood to pool out, made me feel oddly annoyed; it was messier than I expected it to be. Not that I ever thought about killing someone before.
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I tried thinking of other things to make the process go smoother, but all I could feel was the blood dripping from the crevices of my hand as I strangled him to make sure he was dead. I couldn’t tell whose blood it was, mine or the man's, lying to the right of me. He put up a strong fight; I would’ve expected nothing less from a soldier of the Capital.
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At first, I felt no remorse. After all, a soldier of the King deserved no remorse from me, not after the Toll. Although this one seemed far too young to have been involved in that and a slight sense of guilt entered. It was because in the end, we were in fact the same, well, not anymore. After all, you are dead, but we were made of the same red liquid that flowed through our bodies. It would’ve been a quick and painless death, but you chose to lay your hands on me. This is only a consequence of your own actions. Do you understand?
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“Ma’am, are you okay?” The voice brought me back to the reality I was in. It has been a week since I killed the man, although the memory of the sick satisfaction it brought me still haunts me day and night, along with the cut that resides on my lower stomach.
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“Ah, yes,” I sighed, refocusing my attention on the boy in front of me, who appeared no older than I was, which was nearly not old enough to work at a Bar or, in my case, to be drinking at one. “I would like a Tequila Sunrise.”
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“Okay, ID, please?” he requested as he reached out his hand in determination.
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“Coming right up,” I put my hands into the coat pocket of a jacket I stole from another bar on the east side of the city, far enough from the current one I was in, that if she finally noticed her jacket and Id missing, she wouldn’t be able to find it or me.
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“Here,” I handed him the ID with my right hand, and secretly put on her identification bracelet on my left.
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“Aeriline Reyes,” he questioned while looking at the ID of a woman who was clearly older than me.
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“That would be me,” I smiled, while fluttering my deep blue eyes. That usually worked on most folks, I mean any man that worked in a Bar was only working in one because they had no woman to stop them from doing so.
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“Uh-huh,” he raised his eyebrows cautiously. “Identification Bracelet”
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“Oh, come on, now. Is that really necessary?” I smiled while gently touching the back of his hand.
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“I guess not,” he flushed while going back to prepare the drink.
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I took off the identification bracelet and shoved it in the pocket of my pants. I can’t risk losing this, not like the other one.
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“Here you go, Miss Aeriline,” the boy smiled, exposing the dimple on his right cheek, his chesnut hair falling perfectly in front of his face. For a bartender, he was more attractive than I thought.
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“Thank you, Mr…” I hesitated, forgetting that I had never caught his name.
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“Felvier,” he cleared his throat.” But you can call me Calix.”
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“So, Calix, how old are you?” I flirted while sipping from the Tequila Sunrise, my hand gently wrapped around the drink.
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“22,” he said, clearly lying from the way his eyes darted to the left, his nose twitching ever so slightly.
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“Me too,” I smiled, playing into the game. “What a coincidence.”
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“Yes, a coincidence indeed,” he scoffed lightly, his eyes slightly narrowed with suspicion.
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“Are you done, flirting boy, or should I fire you?” a mangly voice erupted. It was an older woman, about 5 decades old, and looked as if she had been smoking six packs of cigars each day, from her crooked, yellow teeth to her red, watery eyes.
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“Sorry, I’ll get back to it,” he apologized as he headed to another customer waiting in the corner. His eyes darted to me, and I gave an understanding smile. He was just trying to make a living, and so was I.
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I continued to sip my drink as my thoughts wandered back to the night.
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The body was easier to dispose of than I anticipated it to be. Just bury it, in a graveyard, even if they figured out, that he was buried here, the city, would protest the digging of the thousands of graves, and by the time they got permission, his body, would have disintegrated enough to the point where my fingerprints would no longer be covered all over him, and good luck to them finding the murder weapon, as it was on me at all times, cleaverly concealed in the bottom of my shoe.
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“Where is he, I had thought,” as I entered the same bar I was in today, waiting for a man to provide me with the payment for the life I just brutally murdered.
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All that awaited me that night was a note saying,
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We are in unexpected times.
Meet me in two weeks, and you will receive your payment then.
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- A
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“Fuck” I slammed the counter hard. All eyes were on my angry display of emotions. “I should’ve known better than trusting a bunch of assassins”.
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“Settle down, you don’t want any of these guys knowing you have just killed a soldier,” a voice whispered in my ear. “The bounty for your head is quite high”.
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I turned around sharply, my eyes widened in panic. But no one was there. Calm down, you’re losing it.
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“No, you’re not, I’m right here,” the same voice replied as I turned beside me to see a man about 3 decades old, in a black and white suit, waving to me.
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“Who are you?” I whispered, my eyes still wide from the shock. “How do you know about that?” I looked around the bar carefully, making sure that no one was eavesdropping on our conversation.
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“Don’t worry, no one can hear us,” he said as if reading my intentions exactly.
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“How can you be so sure?” I replied, keeping one eye on him and the other still surveying the people around us.
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“Too much to explain, right now,” he shrugged off my question and handed me a pamphlet. “Here, Take this.”
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“What is this exactly?” I answered while unfolding the pamphlet carefully. When I finished unfolding it, I was in shock. It was a beautiful, ancient-looking building that looked like a castle owned by one of the royal families, but older, more mysterious. “Why exactly are you showing me this?” I shrugged, putting the paper aside.
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“It’s you’re new school,” he said so nonchalantly that I thought it was a joke. “Dean, said we needed more first years, I chose you.”
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“Haha,” I chuckled awkwardly. “I think you need to go home and rest. You’re clearly not in the right state of mind right now.” I got up, preparing to leave, but a cold, hard grip prevented me from doing so.
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“I’m not joking,” he continued to grab my hand, my head turned to a cold, expressionless gaze in contrast to the lighthearted expression from earlier. “Tuition is free. An illiterate like you should be going on your knees, thanking me”.
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“What the fuck?” I shouted, pulling my hand away from his grasp, but his cold expression, still gazing on me, sent shivers down my spine. Be calm. He looks like he’s going to kill you if you don’t listen.
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“And what kind of school doesn’t require tuition?” I joked, pretending to buy into whatever nonsense this man was selling to me. I mean, I would choose listening to bullshit over getting killed any day.
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“This one,” he replied, his gaze remaining expressionless. “Meet me at this bar in one week from now.”
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“Okay, whatever you say,”. If it wasn’t for his god awful stare, I would’ve bolted for the door minutes ago, but my gut told me if I had, I wouldn’t be making it home tonight, wherever that was, anyway.
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But there was something beyond his deadly stare, a glimpse of genuineness in his expression. I mean, curiosity never did kill the cat, did it? Whatever this school was for, maybe it would help me find some purpose in my life. Roaming around, stealing items, and selling them for a living was getting awfully boring.
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Which is why I am back here, despite my best judgment, in Levard, sitting in the back of the bar, waiting for a man who was most likely a kidnapper or worse.
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“You came,” I heard a voice behind me. I shifted my head behind me, but just like last time, no one was there. Great, not this again.
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My expression flattened, my eyebrows furrowed, showing my clear annoyance with these little games. “It’s only cool once, you know.”
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“You’re just jealous,” he said in a mocking tone that didn’t match the bearded man I was talking to. He arrived in the same suit as before. “It’s almost time,” he said while looking down at the brown pocketwatch in his right hand.
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“Time for what?” I asked curiously as I took a look at the pocket watch; his eyes were so desperately glued to it.
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“Here,” he shoved a brown paper bag in my lap as he began tapping the watch.
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“You want me to snort weed?” I snorted while opening the paper bag to find nothing other than wet wipes inside.
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“Make sure, don't talk about drugs on campus,” he said sternly as he grabbed my hand. “It’s for vomit; first time teleportations aren’t so good on the stomach.”
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“First time tele-?” I stopped mid-sentence as my head began to spin rapidly. A lump in my throat formed, and nausea overwhelmed me. My eyes were fighting to stay open. Swirls of colors flashed over me. “What is going on?” I asked, but all that came out were jumbled, incoherent noises.
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“Just close your eyes, Aeriline,” he sighed, seemingly annoyed by the fact that I was fighting my godamn body to stay conscious right now. Right, I never told him my real name, maybe it was for the better. Or worse. In case someone was trying to find me, not that I had anyone who would look.
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My eyes finally shut, my body unable to resist the force. It went on for what felt like hours until I felt the wet feeling of grass underneath me. Ground, cold, hard, solid ground.
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“You can open your eyes now,” he informed me while checking his pocket watch once again. “Perfect, right on time.”
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I slowly opened my eyes, my eyes fixated on the ground below me. “Welcome to Alvia,” he announced proudly.
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“Look up,” He instructed, pointing to something in the distance.
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I followed his finger, and my eyes widened with shock. It was the building in the pamphlet. I can’t believe this place is real.
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“That’s Aldorch, School for Assassins, and your home for the next three years,” he smiled and gestured for me to stand up.
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“A school for Assassins, know that is something you don’t see every day. I shrugged my head in disbelief that I was actually believing this man. Although the idea of the school itself wasn’t so unbelievable if there were Assassins Guilds, who's to say there weren’t schools to train them? The unbelievable part was that I was recruited to be in one.
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I quickly grabbed my dagger from inside my boot, but as soon as I did, my body was pinned to the floor in an instant. What the hell is going on right now? “If this is some fucking sex trafficking thing, I assure you my services are not satisfactory, and it would save you a lot of money and time if you would just let me go,” I rambled, trying to push myself up, his knee still pressed hard against my body.
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“Too much information,” he laughed as his body shifted from the 30-year-old man I saw in the bar to a boy around my age. His body was fully covered with black leather and a hood wrapped around his head. A scarf wrapped around his mouth, covering his face to the point where I couldn’t even tell what he looked like.“Damion, Nice to meet you. Second year”
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“What just happened?” I screamed as I finally realized I was losing it. “How did you do… that?” I stuttered as my heart began beating rapidly.
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“This happened,” he dangled the pocketwatch in his right hand, but his knee was still pressed sharply against my spine. I have seen a lot of crazy things, but nothing as absurd as this. “Allows for recruiting to be a lot easier.”
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“Okay, I’m just going to pretend that I understand what that means,” I coughed, breathing for air. “Could you also get off of me, before you kill me?”
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“Right,” he released me, but pushed the dagger out of reach so I wouldn’t attempt another go, not that I would again after that embarrassment.
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“Okay, so, I’m not high and this is real,” I looked around in curiosity. My hands caressed the grass. It felt oddly firm to be another one of my hallucinations.
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“No, you are not high unless you took some sort of substance when I wasn’t watching you, although I hardly doubted that as I had my eyes on you for a while,” he responded while winking at me jokingly. For a so-called assassin, he was oddly happy with himself. Psycho.
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“Okay, so this was fun,” I smiled while getting up and patting the grass off my clothes. “I’m not really fit to be an assassin. I can barely read, let alone have the skills to assassinate people.”
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“But you have,” he responded excitedly. “You have assassinated someone before.”
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He was right, I had assassinated someone before. Although I hated cleaning the mess, the thrill of the fight haunted and consumed me, and to my disgust, I had enjoyed it. What would Mom think? I shook my head in disbelief that I was actually considering this.
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“And before you ask, when you become a second year, you start getting paid on jobs,” he grabbed my white dagger from the ground. The white dagger was uniquely curved and encrusted in gold. It was probably the most expensive item I owned, but I would never in a million years think of selling it. Mother said it was a family heirloom that was meant to protect us, and I really needed that protection right now.
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“Hey, give that back,” I launched at him with full force, making him fall backwards. I was hoping to knock him down, so I could quickly retrieve the dagger, but his arms wrapped around my waist, and my body lay on top of his. In that moment, the hood that wrapped around his head fell off, and for the first time, I saw his real face. Well, a part of his face.
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Compared to his cheery attitude, the scar that lay across his right eye bore the mark of a killer. He opened his eyes swiftly. His hazel eyes locked directly into mine. I could tell he was attractive from his eyes alone. I could’ve admired their mesmerizing nature for a while, but in an instant, he flipped me over, and my back slammed quickly against the grass.
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“Ouch,” I groaned as I saw Damion pulling his cover back on and tucking my dagger into his pocket.
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“First years don’t get their own weapons,” he reminded, as if I was supposed to know that. “Come on, or you’re going to be late to initiation.”He looked down at the brown pocket and sighed. “We need to go now,” he began to walk, but stopped as he noticed I was still lying on the grass.
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“Listen, you either come with me. Or I slit you in the throat with your own dagger and watch you bleed out like you did to the soldier,” he said sardonically while looking at me with the same deadly stare as he did when we first met. He was an assassin alright, a psychotic one.
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“Okay, I’m coming,” I sighed, knowing that I'd better follow before I die with the same dagger that was supposed to protect me. After all, this wasn’t such a bad idea: a roof, food, money, and most importantly, the skills needed to kill the Royal family of Malta. Perfect.
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and then Add to home screen.