4. Nowhere to Hide #2
Aradia willed her last ounce of strength to shoot up from the water, gasping for air.
Her fist collided with the man’s chin. She gasped at the pain shooting down her wrist at the impact.
Her hand slid into the sink’s water as she tried to rise.
Her fingers brushed against a butcher's blade and she gripped it.
Without a second thought, she wedged the blade into the side of his thick neck. She pushed against him, slicing the blade deeper, hoping to end the gods-awful scream ripping from his thin lips.
He clamored backward, grasping at the counters and knocking down pots and pans. His eyes widened with disbelief as he looked at her. He fell with a deep groan. His hand weakly raised toward the hilt in a useless effort to take it out.
She fell to her knees in front of him, holding onto the hilt with shaky hands. Blood pooled onto her knuckles and slowly dripped down her fingers. Soapy water dripped from her hair and down her forehead.
“Who sent you?” Her voice shook.
She had just killed a man. The spray of blood was still warm across her face. It did not matter if he would have killed her. It did not matter if it was defense. She would never forget this. She wasn’t a fighter and she certainly wasn’t a killer.
The man choked on his blood as a rumble came from his chest. A chuckle.
“They … come … for you,” he rasped. “Nowhere … to hide.”
“Who!” Aradia’s anger took hold as she shook the man. His dead weight barely moved him. “Who’s coming? Answer me!”
A sigh escaped the man as he coughed up blood and the last sign of life.
She pushed him away with a sob, sliding backward. His lifeless body thumped on the ground. She rocked back and forth in the mess around her, staring at him.
Someone was coming. Someone wanted her dead. If this assassin had almost succeeded, she couldn’t imagine who the next one would be. She was certain of one thing, though, she would not be here when they came again. She rushed to the sink and dipped a rag into the water.
Scrubbing her face and combing through her curls with her fingers, she tied her hair tightly into a low bun. Wet tendrils slicked around her face. The movements forced her to focus on breathing properly. She was alive. For now.
The nude apron was now soiled with the assassin’s blood.
She tossed it into the fire and dragged the assassin to the back door and to the woodshop.
She’d have to deal with him later. She ran back into the kitchen and scrubbed the floors with a vehemence only fueled by adrenaline.
She dumped the bloody water out the back window and collected herself in the kitchens, breathing heavily.
Oh gods, help me!
The front door jingled and Aradia jerked at the noise.
She ran behind the kitchen door. Sweat coated her hands making the iron pan she grabbed once more slick between her fingers. The footsteps were light and shuffled back and forth before pausing as if they were confused.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice. “Is anyone here?”
Aradia relaxed slightly. Just because it was a woman didn’t make her less dangerous.
She made for the kitchen door and peeked around it.
A hooded figure took a seat at the counter, looking around slowly.
A delicate hand pushed her hood back, revealing beautiful, golden hair.
Sharp eyes as calming as a sunny day scanned the tavern before landing on Aradia.
“Oh, hello,” her voice dripped like honey.
Aradia stepped forward. “Hi.” She cleared her throat awkwardly, afraid the vibrato in her voice pitched too high to be considered normal. She stepped behind the bar. “Apologies, I-I … Well, there was an animal in the kitchen.”
A perfectly arched brow lifted. “Oh dear, I was hoping this tavern would be clean.”
“Oh. No, no, I mean —” Aradia placed her hands on the table in emphasis and mentally kicked herself. “It’s great, completely clean. I-I …”
The girl’s smile was as warm as the fire roaring in the pit. A mischievous twinkle glinted in her eyes as she placed her right hand on top of Aradia’s.
“I’m only jesting. I’m sure this establishment is wonderful. I heard raving reviews from a few folks in town. Do you own it yourself?”
Aradia squirmed underneath her gaze. There was something off —fake — about her smile.
As if the girl was hiding her true intent behind sickly sweet questions.
If her life hadn’t been threatened moments ago, perhaps she wouldn’t think anything of it.
But now, her mother’s voice clamored through her like a warning bell.
Never trust and never forget.
“No, I just work here,” Aradia said.
“Hmm,” the girl hummed as if filled with a secret only she was privy to. “Well, I am positively starved. Any suggestions, Miss?” she pursed her lips and held out her left hand. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
She’s just a customer. A very nice customer.
“Um, Aradia.” She placed her left hand in the girl’s waiting palm.
Her hand tightened in a surprisingly strong grip as she shook Aradia’s hand with a smile too wide. “Pretty ring.”
She had turned Aradia’s hand up during the handshake. Aradia felt the sudden unease and tried to break free from the girl’s grip. It only tightened and Aradia noticed the slight roughness of calluses against her palms. The girl flipped their hands so hers was now on top.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered with a wink. “I have one too.”
Aradia offered a small smile but froze at the rubied jewel shining in gold-plated loops. Her heart beat against her chest and she ripped her hand away.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “What did you say your name was?”
The girl offered a sympathetic smile and tilted her head to the right. “Where are my manners? My name is Calia, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”