Sharon let out a big huff of air. Answered Gabe. "As I'll ever be." She looked him up and down in his new clothes. He cleaned up nice. Almost a whole new man in the fine clothes. She offered a smile. A meek one, as the nebulous feeling of inevitability came more and more into focus in the back of her mind. "You look good too, Gabe."
Charles motioned his head to the staircase. "Then let's go."
And before they left, they stowed their weapons and payments in their personal stashes on the first floor of the estate.
Go time.
Outside, as they made their way across the walkway of the front yard, Charles said to them, "Remember, keep your cool and get the mission done quietly at all costs. Niraya is the fucking hornet's nest. The neighborhood itself is bad enough, and it's crawling with Deegan's men. If this goes loud, we're dead."
Earnhardt stood by the open gates of the estate. A large, two-horse drawn passenger carriage was waiting. An expensive ride. The stuff of nobility. It projected power, or at least, the power that money could buy. Enough to intimidate the locals of Niraya that any attempts made against this particular carriage would be unwise.
Earnhardt watched them approach. "The driver will take you straight to Charles' drop-off point, and then to the mill and back. I expect nothing but good news upon your return."
And he started back toward the estate, his hands held behind his back.
Charles opened the door for them. A spacious, six seat interior awaited inside. Cushioned red seats. Actual glass windows. A masterpiece of Connlaothian craftsmanship. Another pinnacle of luxury.
Charles glanced at Jorge and Gabe. "Do whatever you have to do to get McMurray out of there unnoticed. I'll be outside the mill, blending in. Get him to me, I'll get him out of Niraya, you all get back in the carriage when Sharon's done, and then pick me and him up on the way out, and we all ride back here. Easiest job in the world—"
"—if we just keep it cool," Jorge finished for him.
A half-smile broke across Charles' face. A small token of encouragement. For them, and Sharon.
Jorge climbed into the carriage.
As did Sharon.
Despite herself, her heart raced. Slammed against her ribcage in protest. The anticipation was killing her from the inside out.
She held her right hand with her left after she took her seat. Clutched it tightly. The bones of her left hand forming nervous ridges against the skin.
* * * * *
The textile mill was one of the larger buildings in the impoverished Niraya neighborhood of Reajh. Long and rectangular. Looms of various sizes and the seamstresses operating them lined the ground floor. Beams of daylight from the windows caught specks of dust in their gaze, highlighting their wayward motions through the air. Just another quiet day of work in Reajh. Nothing to see.
But underneath the mill, in a lower level the size of the ground floor building, lurked another world. One abandoned by the daylight.
A single lantern hung from the ceiling of the dark room. The air down here was old. Humid. Suffocating. Vile.
A wooden trough was in the center of this room. Four men were on their knees before it. Hands tied behind their backs. Gags in their mouths. Their necks resting on the edge of it. Pigs to the slaughter.
The door to the room opened, and Jessos Rains entered.
Her dirty blond dreadlocks fell to her shoulders. Her eyes an intense yellow. Dark brown pants tucked inside dark brown boots. A heavy leather belt with pouches and pockets and metal hooks and rings that
clinked with each step. Only a tight X-shaped chestwrap covered her breasts. Multiple jagged scars marred the flesh of her exposed skin. The entire left side of her face was tattooed—a chaos of black swirls and spikes, spirals into madness. The tattoo ran down her face, the left side of her neck, her left shoulder, and her entire left arm. And, prominently featured on her left shoulder as part of the tattoo's pattern, a familiar symbol: the snake eating its own tail.
Devon McMurray was at the far end of the trough, but he could still see the light of the lantern reflected by the hatchets Rains held in each hand. Mounting terror forced him to bite down hard on his gag.
Rains stood behind the first man at the trough. Said in a low, breathy voice, "Name and deed."
Another man, an associate of Rains', had entered the room with her. He stood by the door and read from a rough piece of paper, "Kennin Ferro. Snitching. Caught trying to give information to the Connlaothian guard."
Kennin yelled something into his gag. His muffled desperation was of no use.
Rains swung. The blade of the hatchet sliced clean through Kennin's neck, digging into the wood of the trough. Kennin's head dropped away from his body and rolled to an abrupt stop at the bottom of the trough. Blood spurted out from the neck to the rhythm of the dying heart inside the body. The stream soon slowed to a mere trickle.
Rains moved to the next man, the metal attached to her belt clinking menacingly. Stood behind him. Said again, "Name and deed."
Her associate grimaced, and answered, "Geoffry Metik. Rape. Caught him after he had beaten and raped one of Mr. Deegan's working girls. He wanted a freebie, but she refused."
Rains furrowed her brow. The lantern illuminating the hatred in her eyes. "The working girl. What is her name? And is she alright?"
"Valoria Clearview. And...her injuries are pretty severe, boss. Doc says she might not make it."
Rains tilted her head back. "Take one of the potions from the stash. Give it to her. Tell her that she also has two weeks off. With pay—take it from the stash as well. She deserves it."
The associate made a note of it. 'The stash' was Rains' personal property. A sacrifice on her part.
Rains turned her attention back down to Metik. The floor beneath him was slick with urine. He pleaded into his gag. A pathetic, disgusting creature.
"With regards from Valoria."
Rains swung. Again, the hatchet severed the head cleanly, and it rolled next to Kennin's. Blood hit the wood of the trough in rhythmic
thumps until Geoffry's heart gave out.
Devon's breathing quickened as Rains stood behind the next man. Time was running out. But the other man was handling it much worse than Devon. He moaned and cried into his gag. Flailed his shoulders. Panicking as the funnel of his life drew closer and closer to its last point.
Rains said, "Name and deed."
The associate answered. "Cantos Hume. Stealing Mr. Deegan's property. He's got a bad Crystal Vane habit, boss. Got caught stealing a whole crate of it from the mill. No idea how long he's been at it."
Cantos turned his head as much as he could. Looked up to Rains with wide, desperate eyes. Screamed a muffled scream into his gag until his voice broke and his body shuddered and tears poured down his face.
Rains stared down at him. Let her breath slowly escape her lungs. She placed her boot on Geoffry's body and shoved it out of the way. Collected both her hatchets into one hand. She crouched down next to Cantos. Grabbed a lock of his hair and pulled his head back, his neck off of the trough. Touched his chin with her index and middle finger. Turned it to face her.
"You're afraid..." she said quietly, "because you think you are in control. Because you think you have choice. Because you think you could have averted this. That your life could have been some other way." She shook her head. Smiled. Bared some of her teeth. "This is foolish. The moment you were born, you were here. Every step you took wasn't yours to take. Because there is only one path for you, and you belong to it. And that path...has led you here..."
Rains gently pulled down his gag. Cupped her hand to his cheek. She leaned in. Kissed his lips. He kissed her back, as if doing so were his only escape from the room. She held him there for a long moment before she drew back. She stroked his cheek.
"...to this. Rejoice, and love your fate. Embrace the chains that bind you. Samsara is the gilded cage for all who live and die. And all share it. Together."
Rains put the gag back into his mouth. Carefully pushed his head back down. Laid his neck back on the trough. He was quiet now. Calm. She ran her hand through his hair and stood.
"You'll be here again. Soon enough."
Rains swung. A bit of blood splashed on Devon's face as Cantos' head rolled next to Geoffry's. Cantos' final moments poured down his neck and into the trough and mixed with the blood of the other men. Diluted in the lake of red pooling at the bottom of the trough.
Devon bit down into the gag until his teeth ached. His breathing ran wild.
Rains was behind him. He could
feel her. Her presence. The heat from her body. Her legs brushed up against his back. He shuddered. Her scent clawed its way into his nose. Sweet and venomous. A pungent perfume. Like a poisoned fruit. The herald of death in many folk tales.
"Name and deed."
"Devon McMurray. Another snitch. Caught consorting with a known street informant of Mr. Winters. We're just waiting on another sighting of the street informant to take care of him too."
"Good...Very good." Then her voice. Right in his ear. He felt her breath tickling his skin. "You've found yourself on the losing side of this war, Devon. But you need not fear. Rejoice, for this has always been your path."
She drew back. And Devon knew it was coming. Could feel it. The blades of a thousand phantom hatchets tore through his neck as his mind raced and anticipated its own end. He let out his last breath—
"Boss! Word about the safehouse in Crescent Square," said another man who burst into the room.
Rains looked to him. Lowered her hatchet down to her side. "Speak."
"All the boys there are dead, and that courier, Cassimetra, is gone. No sign of her. No sign of the letter you were waiting on either, boss."
Rains' throat rumbled with a low growl. She slipped the handles of both her hatchets through two large metal loops on her belt, holstering them. "Leave. It will be dealt with."
"Yes, boss." And the messenger left as quickly as he had come.
Rains turned her attention back to Devon. She crouched down. And started unlacing her boots.
Her associate at the door smirked. He knew what was coming.
One boot done. Then both. She took off her socks. Laid them carefully on her boots. Stood on the dark floor in her bare feet.
She placed her right foot on the edge of the trough. Her big toe touching Devon's cheek. His eyes were at the corners of their sockets, gazing in fear and bewilderment at her naked foot.
Rains leaned forward, her hands on her right knee. Said in that low, breathy, baleful voice, "When the time comes, you will kneel before these feet. You will bend over, and you will kiss them. And you will beg them. Beg for a reprieve from the end. And as you beg, you will hear these words: 'But this is not the end. Rejoice, for it is only one of a thousand more ends. And a thousand more. And still a thousand more. And thus unto the everlasting eternal of Samsara.'" Rains took her foot off the trough. Put on her socks. Her boots. "Only then, will you come to love your fate. And then you will be granted a swift death. A small mercy. For your faith."
Rains turned her back to him. Her slow and methodical bootsteps marking her leave from the room. Her associate looked to Devon, snickered, blew out the lantern above the trough, and left the room, closing the door. Locked it from the outside.
Devon was left in the pitch black. The smell of death and Rains' sinister perfume his only company.
