Chapter 15
V anya drew the hood of her midnight cloak over her head, gesturing for me to follow suit. My worn cloak was nothing like her opulent one, the threadbare hood refusing to stay in place even in the gentlest wind.
Drawing on my power, I pulled the hood up and coaxed the shadows to me, weaving them around my neck and lower face like a living, breathing cowl. Vanya's eyes glittered with interest as she turned to lead the way.
I followed my new mentor out of the little tavern, slipping out through a window. Our fingers found purchase on the wall like water flowing upward, our feet finding holds in the weathered bricks. In a heartbeat, we were atop the roof, leaping to the next with silent grace, our movements fluid as shadows dancing across moonlit stone.
Like whispers in the night, we ghosted as we made our way across town. Or so I hoped. The assassin could very well be leading me into a trap, and I would have to guess which direction was the exit. I tried memorizing our route, but after our third turn, I couldn't tell if we were moving East of the tavern or West. Every so often I would find a wet patch, my worn boots threatening to slip. I felt out of my element. What in the gods' names had I agreed to?
Vanya moved fearlessly with the grace of a cat, ready to strike her target. I, on the other hand, was like a fawn learning to walk, clinging to my newfound powers like a drowning sailor to driftwood. I shook my head, cleared my thoughts, and focused on the moment at hand. I could do this. This was how I would find the last man and rid this land of his evil.
Vanya crouched ahead. I crept behind her and mirrored the movement, scanning the silent streets and shadowed homes, desperate to catch a glimpse of whatever had caught her attention.
"Look there," she pointed towards a three-story structure, shadowed between two others down the road. The building loomed dark and foreboding, its weathered facade a testament to countless secrets. "That's the target. Towards the top window, there is an office of a man who has found himself on someone's list. Get in. Be discreet—they will alert the whole block you're there if they sense a threat. Kill him and get out."
I realized there was no "we" in that. This was my test.
I swallowed. "And if I get caught?"
Vanya gave me a predator's smile, "You'd be better off slitting your own throat. Don't get caught." I nodded, and she sat back on the roof, content to watch the spectacle unfold from her lofty perch.
I took a deep breath before I closed my eyes and pulled more shadows to me until I all but disappeared. Here on the roof, there was nothing above me to provide any coverage to make me completely disappear. Like death's own wraith, I imagined I must have looked like a nightmare given form, a creature born of shadow and starless night.
I stepped to the edge of our perch and started to slowly climb my way down, my fingers biting into the harsh brick of windowsills until I dropped onto the one below. Climbing trees with Ma?l when we were younger never served me so well.
Once I finally reached the ground, I was nearly invisible. Not a soul out at the hour, I cast a final glance in both directions before prowling over to the building Vanya had directed me to. It didn't seem unique, squat compared to its neighbors. The cobblestone of the street led up to simple stone steps that sat before a wooden door. As I drew closer, I noticed the door had an eye-level opening. Maybe this wasn't just someone's home.
Hearing laughter approaching, I melted into the shadows at the corner of the building, my fingers curling around the hilt of my dagger.
Taking stock of my surroundings, a man flanked by two women stumbled toward the entrance, their laughter betraying the slur of too much wine.
The viewing slot scraped open, though the door remained hidden from my view. The man murmured in hushed tones to the unseen guard until the snap of the latch echoed and they were granted passage. Perfect. More potential witnesses to complicate my mission.
Only after the viewing slot slammed shut and the lock clicked into place did I move.
The words became my prayer: Get in. Kill the man. Get out. Don't get caught.
My gaze darted between the target building and its neighbor, assessing my options. Three stories up sat my target's office. Not a terrible height, but the walls were maddeningly smooth. Whoever designed this place clearly valued security over aesthetics. The neighboring home loomed a good story higher. I could work with that.
Moving to the back of the property until I found a tree that lifted me halfway up the neighboring home. From there I was back to reaching for each windowsill, burning the muscles of my arms as I hauled myself higher. When I made it to the final windowsill, my hands were raw. The rough brick had shredded my unprotected palms.
Above me, the edge of the roof hung just beyond my reach. Launching upward, I grasped for the hard edge with bleeding fingers. My grip failed.
My feet scrambled for purchase on the now-treacherous windowsill. My right foot slid free, my heart thundering at the thought of falling three stories down.
A fall from this height would shatter bones if I was lucky, kill me if I wasn't. What use was a crippled assassin? Vanya's words echoed in my mind - getting caught or getting dead, same difference.
I slammed my knee against the ledge, pressing myself against filthy windowpanes. The impact surely alerted anyone inside. In desperation, I brought my foot back beneath me, gathered myself and used every bit of strength to leap towards the roof.
Shadows streamed from my fingertips as I reached, and for a heartbeat, I wished they could bridge the gap. Just as despair set in, I felt that too familiar rough surface.
I gripped it tightly and swung myself up, rolling onto the rooftop. For a moment, I just lay there, gasping and listening for any inquiring minds seeking the source of the commotion of my climb. Drawing more shadows around me before I rolled to peer beyond the edge. Not a soul in sight.
Focusing on my mission, I aligned myself to the office window and leapt through the frail glass.
"What in—" A burly voice bellowed from beside me. On the sofa sprawled my target, one woman kneeling before him in a compromising position, the other pressed against his side. The women screamed and fled. Cheap ale, sweat, and cloying perfume fouled the air.
I stalked toward him. His face reddened with every step I took.
"Gold! I'll give you gold, jewels, anything!" He scrambled backward, fighting with his trousers.
Shadows wrapped around me until I vanished. The man glanced around wildly as I moved behind him. Sweat beaded on his brow, his unwashed body reeking of fear.
He whimpered as I grabbed him by his limp blonde hair, my blade pressed against his throat.
"Please, I'll do anything," he begged, his body trembling beneath my grip. My silence terrified him more than words. His marked death would satisfy someone—at least he died true to form: a coward.
I drew my dagger across his neck in one clean stroke. His sobs caught in his throat, body slow to realize its fate. His eyes grew glassy and his chest stilled. Hearing footsteps thundering down the hall—I dove through the shattered window, leaping without another glance.
Rolling as I landed, I sprinted toward Vanya, cloaked in shadows.
Rounding the final corner, I spotted Vanya lounging against a wooden shed. I released my shadows and she gave me a slow clap.
"Not bad," Vanya purred, her feline grin gleaming in the darkness. "We'll work on your subtlety, but you're alive and uncaught. That's a win in my book." She clapped me on the shoulder, guiding me through the labyrinth of shadowy alleys.
The silence suited me. My mind wandered between memorizing our path and grappling with my first contracted kill. Shame gnawed at me—what would my grandmother think? She'd probably beat me with her favorite pan, if she didn't kill me outright for becoming this monster. If she were still alive, I'd be home with her instead of stalking the night for prey.
"What's next?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as the weight of my actions settled over me like a shroud.