Young Writers Society

Authors Note ~ Hi everyone, glad you've decided to check out this piece of my work. I'd just like to point out that this is a rough draft. I have not yet looked it over but I just wanted to know what you all think? If it's good enough to continue and so on - because I have another chapter I'll be putting up but I need opinions. Don't go pointing out every single flaw - i'm sure I'll find them when I reread my own work but if you must then RIP IT TO SHREDS.

~~ Written.

Chapter One : First Blood

She scanned the impenetrable darkness before her, straining to hear any sign of movement or humanity that lurked within that wall of black but there was nothing. Her hand brushed away the strands of brown hair that were swept from her bun by the strong breeze. The woman was tall, her figure lean and agile, her stance not at all uncertain but carried with an air of formality and tension. She wore nothing other than a long billowing gown that she had put on earlier for one of her many façades. Tonight, however, was a night where her façade was lost - lost among a sea of truths and lies.

She remembered the look on his face, the look of recognition that flitted past his emotionless mask before it was replaced with a cold and calculating smile. She had run then, run towards the balcony whose french doors swung open like a tantalizing haven for her to rid them of their discoveries. She had rushed, her feet pounding the carpeted flooring of the owner’s household and then she was on cement, rushing towards the railing that bordered the balcony’s edges.

It took her a moment, a quiet breath before she jumped - the air holding her up in it’s sweet, shivering embrace. It left her to float down to the ground, down to where she knew she would find the end to the truths they had uncovered from her face. When she opened her eyes it was to see the ground rushing up to greet her with a bitter kiss - a kiss that she would forever remember as she so often did afterwards.

She heard the shouts, the cries of people from above who saw her now crumpled body laying on the pavement. A pool of blood seeped out from the wound in her head and dripped down into the cracks and crevices of the cement. It was time for her to leave - time for the huntress to prey on another poor, poor soul.

***

“So you’ve not found her yet?” demanded the man whose right hand was wrapped tightly around his cane. The elder calmly paced back and forth across the room, all the while keeping his gaze on the younger of their kind who stood patiently, the visible spark of fear in his eyes, waiting for the punishment that was sure to be delivered.

“N-no, sir. We’ve no leads!” he said indignantly, and he bit down on his tongue as he registered his mistake.

The cane whirled through the air and cracked against the young man’s flesh, causing him to cry out and land on his knees. “You fool! A child was killed the other night; jumping off the balcony three stories high! What more of a lead must you have?” he roared, his outrage ever present in his heartless brown gaze.

The man bowed his head, “No more, sir. I understand, sir.” he responded resignedly. “I will have the men check into it, sir.” and he hurriedly rose to his feet and scurried from the room with his hands tightened into white knuckled fists.

The elder paced about the room, the silence not at all welcome for it gave him a chance to think. The old man did not enjoy the company of his own thoughts for they gave way to doubt and doubt was only a means to get killed.

The crackle of the fire was all that he heard as he seated himself in the worn, old leather chair nearest the flame. His wrinkled hand released the cane he held and he slowly leaned back, pressing his aching back into the back of the chair. He had just closed his eyes when a soft knock sounded on the door and he groaned, raising back to sit at full attention.

“Come in.” he called, turning his attention to the fire and prodding it so as to burn the oak wood that had not yet caught.

The door was pushed open, and it swung freely on it’s hinges before an older looking woman stepped into the study. Her grey eyes were narrowed, a raptor’s gaze in themselves, her black hair was pulled in a bun and her tailored suit showed nothing but a well-working woman who prided herself on her neatness. He knew better than to assume such a preposterous thing; a woman like her prided her on not her neatness but her swift delivery of death.

“Kenya.” he greeted her with a warm smile, knowing that his eyes were devoid of any warmth.

The woman gave a curt nod, “Joseph.” she returned his greeting with cool disinterest, her eyes roaming the study with the habitual narrow-eyed gaze that scanned every possible threat but she merely did it once rather than her usual four times.

Joseph rose with the aid of his cane, his slippered feet whispering across the wooden panels on the floor. He looked up at her, the woman was tall without the aid of her four inch heels but nevertheless he tapped the back of her knees twice with his cane.

Kenya sighed and seated herself in the small wooden chair that was nearest the door, and she clasped her hands in her lap; waiting for him to begin explaining why she had been called to his studies if he wanted nothing other than to chastise her stance or bicker with her about her methods being too sloppy.

“Your last killing, the eighteenth, was an elderly woman; was it not?” he asked her calmly, not the slight bit thrown off by her ignorant display of emotionless.

“It was.” she answered him curtly.

“This elderly woman was supposed to have been carrying the soul within her?” he asked her with a small glint of interest within his usual blank stare.

“She was.” her reply came slowly, a drawl of suspicion.

“Did you manage to ensnare the soul?” his voice now had hardened with pressing demands for knowledge.

“I did not.” Kenya answered as she slowly rose from her seat in the wooden chair.

“If that is all-” Joseph’s cane came cutting through the air and cracked against her flesh, she gritted her teeth against the pain and glowered spitefully.

“Sit down, you fucking disappointment!” he snarled at her, rising slowly to tower over her once she had seated herself back down.

“Were you not ordered, specifically, to ensnare the damned soul and bring it back to me?” he raged, his white hair in a disarray matching the turbulence of rage he felt at the moment.

Her lips twitched before she raised her eyebrows, “No. I was ordered to kill the creature bearing the soul and bring it back to you.” she told him with a sneer. “Not very specifique, so I accidentally brought you the woman’s corps and not the soul you may have wanted.”

The cane came down on her knee and she flinched, but returned his cold glare with one of her own.

“You will be sorry you’ve ever disappointed me, Kenya.” he whispered as he leaned in towards her ear, his lips grazing her flesh and causing her to shudder in disgust.

Kenya licked her lips, and pulled away but the old man entangled his hand in her black mane of hair; pulling her forward to meet his waiting lips.

Joseph kissed her forcefully, his lips moving on hers before pushing his tongue against her teeth; letting her understand that demands that he was making.

Kenya struggled vainly but Joseph was much stronger than he appeared and after a moment of futile writhing she finally submitted, unclenching her teeth and letting the man have his access. Her mind spun dizzyingly as his tongue danced with hers, tasting her, testing her.

Joseph loosened his hold on her hair and Kenya saw her chance, she reached out blindly and grasped the ashtray that rest on the small table next to her before slamming it down at the base of Joseph’s skull.

The man froze, and Kenya opened her eyes to see the shock that was written on his face before she rose from the seat she sat in gracefully; toppling the man over to fall on his back unconscious.

She nudged him with the toe of her boot before wiping her mouth on the back of her red leather sleeve. “No, sir. It will be you who will regret ever being disrespectful to me.” she murmured thoughtfully before exiting the room with a grim smirk in place.