Chapter 19 One by One
One by One
I enter Sanctuary and scan the taproom, signaling for a drink before moving to an empty table in the far corner.
Sitting with my back to the wall as usual, I wait for my contact.
Emilio facilitated this introduction, and I requested the face-to-face meeting to get a measure of the person I’m supposed to trust with my life’s mission.
As my drink arrives, so does my contact.
The newcomer is diminutive, moving agilely through the tables directly for me.
Right-handed. Two visible daggers. Without a doubt, there are more weapons secreted on them.
They move confidently, gracefully, and are very aware of their surroundings.
Definitely lethal. I can’t tell much more about them with a cloak masking most of their features.
They approach and stop a few feet away. “How is the wine?” It’s a feminine voice.
Getting the preset identification phrase, I gesture for them to take a seat.
“It’s better in Oht.” As they sit, they push back their hood.
My Durov contact is a fair-skinned, petite, female-appearing person with long red hair woven into a thick braid that disappears under the collar of her cloak.
Her bright green eyes appraise me as I openly assess her.
I gesture to my glass. “Would you like some? It’s not like home, but it’s decent enough.
” She nods, and I signal for the barkeeper to bring a second cup.
He comes over himself, setting it in front of my companion before retreating behind the bar.
She raises her cup to me, indicating her thanks. “Elanil.” I raise an eyebrow at her quizzically. “My name. It is Elanil.”
I dip my head slightly in her direction. “Elanil, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Not, I’m sure, as pleasurable as it is for you to meet me, but few things are.” I flash her my best smile.
There’s a slight tug at the corner of her mouth, but that’s the only reaction I get. She takes a sip of the wine. “What do you need my help with, Master al-Qadir?” She says it quietly enough but makes her point. She knows who I am and why we’re here. Right to business. I can appreciate that.
“There are eight targets. Each must be terminated, and because they’re so interconnected, there needs to be a delay between each to avoid alerting the others. I’ll take care of them myself.” My tone leaves no room for negotiation. I’m not giving anyone else the pleasure of these kills.
Elanil seems puzzled. “Then why do you need me?”
“I need someone to help determine their patterns and schedules. I don’t have time to follow all of them.
And I need to know about changes to their routines immediately.
It might mean they know they’re being followed.
Or it could give me an opportunity to eliminate them.
So you’ll be my extra pair of eyes. Your help will be invaluable in bringing each of them the end they deserve. ”
“Names?”
I appreciate her directness. “For now, we’ll start with Leonardo Santorini, Aadan Hawa, and Simon Brown—all Protectors in the Onyx Guild—and Benedito Sousa and Rhys Bowen, both legal council in the Diamond Guild.
The rest I’m not willing to mention yet.
” Her expression blanks, most likely as she commits the names to memory and connects what I’ve said with what I haven’t.
There’s a clear moment when she glances at me and decides she doesn’t want to know who the other targets are.
With a nod, she stands. “I will contact you through a mirror if I have any news to share.” She pulls her hood over her flame-red hair and leaves.
Two days later, the small mirror in my pocket warms, and I activate the spell. Elanil appears, and before I can say anything, she does. “Tomorrow night. Segnature Coven House. A diamond in the rough.” Her image fades as the spell is dropped.
Well then. Tomorrow night it is.
I watch from the shadows as Benedito Sousa climbs the stone stairs to the front of the coven house and opens the massive wooden doors.
All yesterday I scouted the building, noting the possible exits he could try to flee through.
It’s how I discovered the rarely used door at the rear of the building, which will be my way in and out.
I boost my cloaking spell and approach the entrance, checking for traps.
Finding none, I slot my fingers into the gap between the door and the building and feel for the latch, pressing hard once I find it.
Effortlessly, the door swings open. I slip through, quietly shutting it behind me.
There are a few lanterns shedding enough light to see that I’m standing on a raised dais or altar.
To my right are five long, intricately carved wooden shelves lining the wall.
Each is filled with a well-organized assortment of gems in varying sizes, likely for ceremonial focus, and bundles of dried lavender and sage, for cleansing afterward.
Spread out in front of the altar is a cavernous room with row upon row of wooden benches arranged in two sections, separated by a main aisle.
With this many seats, the coven is either very well attended, or planning to attract a larger following.
Low voices drift from a doorway in the far-left corner of the room, so I take the left side aisle, silently crossing the offering circle carved into the floor. The onyx in my palm thrums to life, and I cast Listen, amplifying the murmured conversation.
“With Guild Master Vitorio dead, there has been fighting among those in House Vitorio, and it is not much better in the Onyx Guild. The Guild is a problem for someone else. There is no clear successor in either case. However, as I can claim lineage with House Vitorio, I have an opportunity to assume that position. But there is no guarantee that I have enough support to achieve my goal. If the coven backs my bid, it would add additional legitimacy to my claim. And I, of course, would owe the coven a debt, Prima Alicia.”
So, Benedito wants to rule House Vitorio. Unfortunately for him, he’ll never get the opportunity.
Prima Alicia’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “What form would repayment take?”
A chair creaks, and I imagine Benedito leaning forward conspiratorially. “It could take any number of forms. A tithe to the coven, a favor owed, to be paid at a later date; whatever you suggest.”
There’s a long pause, followed by the scraping of chairs and shuffling of robes. “You have the coven’s backing for a favor to be named in the future. Our formal endorsement will not happen until I have your oath for this favor in writing, with the Vitorio seal firmly stamped on the document.”
I want to laugh. Prima Alicia is no pushover. I admire her thoroughness.
Benedito answers, relief in his voice. “You will have it by tomorrow evening.”
I duck into an alcove to stay hidden while I wait for Benedito to exit the office.
Not long after, he stalks right past me.
Dark hair, brown skin, slight build. He’s right-handed and the dagger at his belt is all but ceremonial.
I easily haul him into the alcove, and before he can do more than grab my wrist and reach for his own weapon, I slip my knife between his ribs, puncturing his lung.
He tenses, then sags in my arms, gasping for air.
I twist the blade as I press my lips against his ear.
“For Kas.” As the words leave my lips, I withdraw my dagger, plunging it into him again, puncturing his other lung for good measure.
I let go, dumping his body on the floor.
“May your spirit rot in the void between worlds.” I wipe my blade on his sleeve and resheathe it, then pull my hood low over my face and step over the body, careful not to walk through the seeping blood.
Glancing into the now empty casting room, I hurry toward the altar, silently leaving the way I came.
Seven more to go.
Not long after, Prima Alicia discovers the body of Benedito Sousa in the alcove where I left him.
After an investigation by the Protectors, his death is blamed on an unknown assailant.
It doesn’t stop the rumors that claim he was killed by a rival within House Vitorio.
Still others have joined those blaming The Revenant.
I’m happy to let some unknown person or spirit take the credit for his death. For now.
Three days later, Elanil makes contact again.
As before, her image appears, and she speaks.
“Change in pattern for Rhys Bowen. Opening procedures start in two days for his case proposing to send the non-magical back to Earth. He will be staying in town for the next few days.” The mirror goes blank, and I rub my temple.
For the next few days. That doesn’t give me much time. Should I take advantage of the change in routine or wait for it to return to the usual pattern? My gut tells me I should strike now, when he’s preoccupied with the trial. And I have the perfect lure.
I am sorry, but I could not help myself.
I had to write this note to say how stunning you are.
So incredibly handsome and intelligent. You probably are complimented frequently and have your pick of suitors.
But I need to tell you that your commanding presence in court took my breath away.
I would love to meet you privately and hear more of your ideas.
I will be in the Panah City bathhouse steam room tomorrow night at midnight. I hope you will join me.
I send the note via a courier, arranged by House Durov.
Rhys’s reputation for fucking anything willing, and thinking with his cock, makes his appearance likely.
A midnight meeting should ensure the baths are empty.
Occasionally, innocents die during assassinations of primary targets, but if I can avoid unnecessary deaths, I will.
Though I’m not going to miss an opportunity because of it.
Prior to meeting Nico, I might have shown up myself and indulged in a bit of fun with Rhys before killing him.
But that holds no interest for me anymore.
Instead, I gather what I need to kill him in a most uniquely painful way and hole up in my ramshackle room at the inn, waiting for the designated time.
Close to midnight of the next evening, I make my way to the bathhouse.
As I approach the marble-pillared entrance, a few stragglers exit the building.
I wait in the shadows for another few minutes before going in.
This late, all of the attendants are gone, and the usually boisterous place is quiet.
Moving silently, I check the bathing room, the showers, and the heated pool before continuing to the cold pool room, ensuring each is empty.
Finally, I move to the steam room, and after checking that no one is there, I sprinkle a concoction of dried herbs on the currently cold stones.
When Rhys casts a heating spell on them and adds water to create steam, the mixture will become an aerosol that will melt the skin and lungs of anyone who inhales it.
The herbs will burn off quickly and the vapor will dissipate within half an hour.
Hopefully no one else is planning a late night assignation in the bathhouse.
Reinforcing my cloaking spell, I exit the baths and retreat to a hiding spot to wait.
A few minutes later, Rhys approaches. Brown hair, average build, light skin.
Left-handed. Unarmed. Idiot. He enters the building grinning, and as much as I’d love to, I don’t wait around.
Instead, I use the time to get as far away as I can from what will hopefully be a death scene.
It doesn’t stop me from imagining Rhys checking through the bathhouse to see if anyone is there, hopefully assuming he’s arrived first, disrobing, and entering the steam room.
At some point, he’ll add water to the hot stones. I just need to be patient.
A blood-curdling scream echoes through the quiet streets before abruptly cutting off. Grinning, I slip down a side alley and disappear into the night.
Only six left.