Tonight was just not her night, the figure thought ruefully, feeling her muscles twitch with the strain of hard labor, arm twisting as the body pressed against her shifted. Or rather, perhaps it would be, if things went according to plan, but right now, 'right' wasn't exactly the word she would have chosen.
It had seemed like a simple enough assignment, really, when she'd taken it on. And truly, the night had started off fine; a waxing crescent moon had risen over the rum-drunk city of Cerenis, casting a pale light down the wandering wynds and streets of the port town, but giving a certain hint of thickness and shadow to the world. Birdie particularly liked cities found by the sea; not only were they usually rife with odd jobs for her to pick up, the gossip was good, the ale better, and no one noticed one more unsteady figure making its way home. Besides, drunk sailors often thought that any small lass was fair game, and Birdie really did love a good challenge.
Thinking to celebrate the easy - but lucrative - job she'd just come off of, she'd stepped into the nearest tavern, settled herself into a stool at the bar, and come close to finding the answers to life's problems - all at the bottom of a bottle, of course - when someone had slid into the seat beside her. No stranger to unwanted attention - mostly because she looked like an easy mark - she hadn't noticed much at first, until she'd realized that the newcomer was a man of medium height who only reluctantly put back the hood of a cloak, dark eyes shifty with guilt and supposed surreptitiousness. In hindsight, she should have ignored him, not even given him the time of day - but she had.
Which was why she was here, in a dark alley, with one arm locked viciously around the throat of her target, struggling with the larger man and trying to get her hand between her own hip and the blunt body pressed against hers. It had sounded so easy; for someone of her skill, the assassination had sounded like a cakewalk. A prominent merchant, the competitor of her client, typically guarded by two well-endowed but not very clever musclemen, heading home at this time of night from the tavern across the way. And honestly, the guards had been quite easy to deal with; she was quick enough to make short work of them. It was the actual target that had presented the problem, merely because he'd been a bloody mage.
But even fancy magical frippery couldn't beat cold hard steel, she thought grimly as her fingers finally locked around the hilt of the hunting knife strapped to her thigh. He'd blasted her stiletto out of her hand when she'd gone to punch it into his back, but she had the upper hand now, quite literally. Dragging the blade from between them, she drew it up and out from the sheath there, but right before she got it into position for a final blow, the larger man tore free from her arm, half twisting and flinging his fist toward her head. Birdie didn't hesitate, arm snaking out in a sharp jab, but felt the resounding thunk! of bone against bone when the knuckles crashed into her cheek.
Mildly dazed, she staggered back, hand pressing briefly against her cheek, eyes slitted against the bright stars that swirled behind her eyelids as warm liquid ran down her face. 'Oh, bloody hell, he's actually gone and made me bleed.'
Except that when she opened her eyes, there was a considerable amount of blood across the front of her cream-colored blouse, and a crumpled dead body on the stones in front of her, wicked-looking blade sticking out of the throat. She pressed her hand back to her cheek, swiping her fingers over the wetness and lifting them in front of her eyes. 'Dead man's blood,' she thought briefly, no shiver of distaste twitching over her features, then surveyed the alley with its considerable amount of evidence and three motionless bodies.
'Well, bother.'
