Aveline (5 page)

The assassin in all black leapt into the
carriage and closed the door. He sat down across from her and
peeled off the skintight mask.

“Karl!” she exclaimed, startled to see her
father’s most trusted advisor.

“Avi,” he replied curtly. With dark hair and
green eyes, the middle aged man was leaner and faster than most new
members to the Guild. His ruthlessness had earned him a position at
her father’s side and his trust as well. “The news of your father’s
death has left me speechless.” He bowed his head in honor of her
father.

Aveline smiled, touched by the
thoughtfulness of the assassin she considered to be an uncle. He
had been around her entire life, faithful to her father until the
very end, and often took the time to train her.

“Thank you, Karl,” she said. “You can’t know
how shocked I was.”

“We recovered his body,” Karl told her. “We
will see it buried, outside the city, where no scavengers can find
it.”

Her eyes misted over, and she ducked her
head to prevent him from witnessing her tears.

“I came to discuss a different matter,” he
said.

Aveline waited.

“The man who hired you. What has he
revealed?”

She looked up, surprised. “How do you know
about him?”

“Before he came to you, he came to me. I was
suspicious, and for good reason. Soon after the man in black
approached me, a second man did, this one without a mask. He wanted
to sponsor a murder, to which I was more than willing. But he would
only deal with the blood of the devil.”

Her face grew warm. Karl had known the
family secret longer than she had. However, the second mention of
her curse within a twelve hour period, when she had not spoken
about it in years, left her uncomfortable.

“He wouldn’t say much at all,” she said,
perplexed. “I’m supposed to protect someone. That’s all he would
reveal.”

Karl nodded. “You agreed?”

“He saved me from the brothel,” she hemmed,
not wanting to upset someone she admired by admitting she had
accepted employment before she was a real assassin.

“I understand, Aveline. I am not upset,”
Karl said.

She released the breath she did not know she
was holding.

“I am here to convey a message, from both
the Guild and the benefactor I spoke of earlier,” he continued.
“You have no sponsor for your final trial?”

She shook her head.

“I will sponsor you, if you kill the person
you were hired to protect.”

Aveline blinked, her initial excitement
fading. “But I gave him my word. Wouldn’t I be breaking the Guild
laws?”

“You aren’t a member of the Guild yet, Avi,”
he reminded her gently. “The oaths you take before you enter are of
no consequence, once you pledge your loyalty to the Guild.”

It was not exactly what her father had told
her. He insisted all oaths had to be fulfilled, for integrity was a
key requirement of an assassin’s personality.

When she hesitated, Karl spoke again.

“I may be able to negotiate Rocky’s release
as well.”

“Rocky?”

“He was captured by the Shield last night
when they were trying to find you. He was very brave. He refused to
tell anyone where you were,” Karl explained. “My benefactor will
pay for his release, once the kill he commissioned has been
committed.”

Not Rocky.
Her heart began to pound hard in her chest. Her
closest friend did not deserve to be tortured because the men last
night found him instead of her. Guilt fluttered through her at the
thought of Rocky in pain. She had helped nurse him back to health
after his first encounter with the Shield that left him scarred.
She had already lost her father; she could not handle a second loss
so soon.

“I don’t want to see Rocky hurt any more
than you do. He’s suffered enough, and it’s not fair to him that he
was captured because you chose to run instead of fight, as your
father would’ve wanted,” Karl said. “My sponsor will ensure he
remains untouched, as long as you agree. Once the job is done, he
will pay for Rocky’s freedom.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll do anything for
Rocky.”

“The two of you are similar to your father
and me,” Karl said approvingly with a faint smile. “You will make
an excellent Guild leader some day, and Rocky your right hand.”

Aveline could not smile in return. Knowing
Rocky was in danger, and she had put him there, left her feeling
sick to her stomach. Betraying a man who would not show his face
was surely forgivable by her father, if it meant saving Rocky.

Integrity.
The voice of her father was in her mind, and she
recalled his lecture on honoring every oath. The man she had
promised to serve had saved her life, another consideration the
Guild took very seriously.

She had never heard her father require an
assassin to break an oath, and her father would kill any assassin
who failed to honor a life debt. But Karl would never ask her to do
something her father would disapprove of, would he? At least,
before this moment, she had not considered he might.

What was so important about her target? And
why would only the Devil’s blood be able to either protect, or
kill, this person?

What were Karl and the masked stranger
keeping from her?

Did any of it matter, if Rocky’s life was on
the line? Aveline studied Karl, troubled by the request and just as
concerned about Rocky. The night that started as the worst in her
life had turned into a morning more bizarre than any she could
remember with two men asking her to perform actions that ran
counter to her training.

“My sponsor will contact me when he wants
the murder to take place. I believe it may not happen until
spring,” Karl said, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “This will give
you time to earn the trust of those you need to in order to isolate
your target.”

She nodded.

“Your father would be pleased to know you
will soon become an assassin. It was his deepest desire for you to
follow in his footsteps.”

Some of her doubt melted. “It’s all I’ve
ever wanted,” she admitted.

“I believe, once a new leader is chosen for
the Guild, I might be able to convince him or her that this task
should be considered your final trial.”

“You would do that?” she asked, startled by
the offer.

“My …
our
benefactor will be swept away with
gratitude. His money will support the Guild for years. In honor of
your father, it only seems right that such a task is rewarded in a
way benefitting you as well,” Karl said.

Aveline smiled. “I’d be forever grateful,
Karl, if you can speak to the new Guild leader about this. And …
please take care of Rocky.”

“My pleasure.” Karl bowed his head again.
“Consider this a sign of good faith.” He pulled the strap of the
satchel he wore over his head and handed it to her. “Standard
assassin’s tool kit, awarded upon acceptance into the guild.”

Aveline accepted it. “Thank you, Karl,” she
whispered, starting to tear up once more, this time out of
gratitude edged by exhaustion. Her father had made her a kit when
she was younger and taught her how to use the herbs, poisons,
weapons and other tools of the trade within.

“I must leave before they notice I’m here.
I’ll contact you through the standard Guild methods in two to three
weeks. Rest assured I’ll speak to our benefactor immediately about
Rocky,” Karl said.

She nodded eagerly.

Karl pulled his mask on and opened the door,
exiting the carriage the same way he had entered.

Aveline closed the door behind him and sat
back down, her mind whirling with everything that had happened. Her
father’s death, her narrow escape from the brothel, Rocky’s capture
… and the promise of becoming a full assassin. The events of the
past twelve hours were some of the worst, and potentially best, of
her life.

All she had to do to turn her life around,
to make her father proud and take her place in the Guild, was break
an oath to a stranger.

As the long ride out of the inner city
continued, she sank into thought once more. Karl had been as vague
as the masked stranger. What kind of person had one wealthy man
willing to spend untold amounts of money to protect him and another
to see him dead?

I’ll do anything for
Rocky.
She was somewhat relieved to know
her agreement would protect him while he was imprisoned. It did not
quite seem like enough, but she trusted Karl to protect her friend
when she could not.

Aveline focused on her numbed leg, on making
her father proud, on how incredible she would feel when she became
an assassin, on saving Rocky’s life … on anything except the
whisper in her mind warning her that something was wrong, if Karl
was asking her to break two sacred Guild rules.

“Your father should have burnt you at the
stake alongside your mother.”

“Yes, Matilda,” Tiana replied stoically.
With her eyes on the floor, she dared not wince as the woman behind
her wrenched a brush through her tangled hair. Fingers laden with
expensive rings containing brilliant gemstones flashed by her face
as Matilda leaned forward to grasp another handful of wavy
hair.

“I was not born to be a slave to a freak! My
father is the …”

Tiana zoned out, accustomed to the lecture
that came whenever her stepmother had to help her prepare for a
ceremony. The events requiring her attendance were few and far
between, numbering four annually. Somehow, each one this year only
seemed to make Matilda angrier, and Tiana began to think her father
was souring on his wife of seven years. Matilda was too determined
to remain in the family for Tiana to understand what might have
happened. In front of her father, Matilda was sweet, doting, and
perfect.

In private, her stepmother’s frustration had
recently exploded into an increase in violence and ranting.
Matilda’s usual resentment had taken on an unusual vehemence.
Tiana’s father never saw what happened in private, and she never
spoke a word of it to anyone except her brother.

Tiana traced her fingertips along the scars
crisscrossing the soft skin of her inner forearm. Her latest cut
still stung, though not as much as her eye, which was rendered
black during another of Matilda’s temper tantrums. She was
accustomed to physical pain, too, to the blows and cuts and
bruises.

Matilda flung the brush onto the vanity and
stomped towards the wardrobe, a flurry of anger and tinkling sounds
emanating from the bells on her slippers and layers of pearls sewn
into her gown. The heavy gold necklaces around her neck glimmered
with jewels, and even more gems had been braided into her hair.

Tiana released her breath and peeked towards
her stepmother, a beautiful woman with pale skin and blue eyes. At
twenty five, she was closer to Tiana’s age of seventeen than to the
husband twenty years her senior.

Matilda’s fingers trembled as she yanked a
gown from the wardrobe. She studied the different lengths of silk
before selecting a veil featuring fantastical animals Tiana had
embroidered into the silk. Her nose was red, a sign she had been
using the medication she stashed in Tiana’s room so no one else
would find it.

Warmth bloomed within Tiana. As miserable as
Matilda made her, she could find only pity for the woman who had
dealt with her and her father for so many years. To be a member of
this family was to wield great power – and to be confined by it as
well. That Matilda had learned a slave’s duty of dressing her was
more than Tiana’s previous two stepmothers had done for her.

“Do not look at me with those ghoulish
eyes!” Matilda snapped. “One could never guess your mother’s family
bred with those creatures. Your father burnt every last Webster in
the city after he saw your crippled little body, and rightly so.
”

Everyone but my brother and
me,
Tiana corrected her silently and
returned her eyes to the floor.

“You should be ashamed to bear the mark of a
Hanover!” Matilda continued.

Tiana reached back instinctively to feel the
raised tattoo on her shoulder. Every Hanover born was etched with
the symbol of a diving eagle, the family crest.

Matilda gasped. “Cease this display. Now!”
she snapped.

Her stepmother was pointing at the pillows
floating three feet in the air above Tiana’s bed. It took effort to
undo what she had not felt herself do. Tiana willed the pillows to
return to the bed. They obeyed and dropped in place, where they
belonged.

Matilda cursed at her then snatched slippers
from the wardrobe and slammed it closed. “Be quick. Your father
does not forgive tardiness. I will deal with this incident
later!”

Tiana stood and closed her eyes to shield
Matilda from the most repulsive of her deformities. She tugged off
her sleeping gown and then lifted her arms. Matilda pulled the
ceremonial gown over her head with gentleness she never showed
Tiana, careful not to wrinkle any of the layers of silk, lest she
earn the displeasure of Tiana’s father. The green sash and metal
insignia, marking Tiana’s position as a colonel in the Shield – an
honor bestowed upon the children of the city’s hereditary leader –
went on next. The last piece of her ensemble was the most important
one: the translucent layer of silk preventing the public from
seeing her deformity.

Matilda’s long nails grazed Tiana’s skin as
she maneuvered, tucked and pinned the veil in place, skillfully
covering Tiana’s face and neck while leaving her hair exposed. The
wrapping of the veil was a privileged art only select members of
the city were permitted to learn, and it was one of Matilda’s
duties to approve which women from wealthy families were allowed to
display the veil. The trend was started by none other than Matilda
as a simple solution to the dilemma Tiana’s father faced on Tiana’s
thirteenth birthday. He was required by the laws of the elite to
present his debutante daughter. Doing so would have revealed her
deformity and seen her burned at the stake, alongside everyone else
who knew of the deformed girl.