The beginning of the end for me started with a simple job and a rude witch named Walinda.
“This one should be easy,” the witch said, as she gathered ingredients from the shelves in her small hovel. “Prince Thornton, he’s not that bright.”
Her skin was radiant, almost glistening, and her gorgeous hair spilled down her shoulders, perfectly positioned. She looked to be maybe twenty years, but I was fairly certain it was a spell responsible for her stunning beauty. Her eyes were critical as they stared me down. “Well?”
“20 crowns?” I confirmed. Vils often lied and cheated, even when they needed something. This one knew what I could do, so the chances of her trying to screw me over were slim.
“You’ll have your money when he’s dead.” She waved me off. “Go, get it done. Be gone with you!”
I shot her a look. It wasn’t not like I was going to stay for tea, but she didn’t have to be a jerk about it. I left without another word, fighting back the urge to flash a hand gesture in her direction. Powers or not, pissing off witches was just a bad idea. Hexes are forever.
Artemus was smart enough to wait for me outside, and he rejoined me on my shoulder when I emerged from the witch’s creepy little home. He squawked his hungry cry, so after picking up some bread in town, we headed for the river. I took a swig from my canteen and wiped the cool water off my lips. Artemus always flew above, watching the trail ahead. I was so grateful for his company, and that my power didn’t affect him. I don’t know why he stuck around—I figured it was the supply of bread and occasional pastry, but if I allowed myself to be delusional, it was more than that. He was my only friend in the craziness that was my world, the only thing that made sense.
I gathered some branches along the way to make a fire. At the river, Artemus went to work fast. Watching him fish was fun—the unexpected descent and plunge into the water, the helpless fish flapping vainly and finally the gulp. He was able to swallow fish that appeared larger than his beak, which I found oddly fascinating. The really large fish he carried over to me, dropping them next to the campfire. My job was always to debone and cook the fish over the flame, then afterwards we would share the meal. He seemed to enjoy the cooked fish as much as the raw fish, which I could tell by the odd purr sound he made as he chomped it down. That and the nuzzling—he would nuzzle my cheek with his head, a move beyond cute that I simply adored.
But today he was unusually alert. After he finished eating, he flew out to the adjacent woods. At the sound of a twig snapping, I understood his nervous behavior.
“Someone out there?” I grabbed my fish gut-covered knife and joined him. I looked around but didn’t see anyone. Artemus flew high above the forest, scanning the trees and ground for movement. He cried out and swooped down near a patch of trees in the distance.
A man dressed in black tried to shoo him off, unsuccessfully. Artemus hovered over the spot where the man hid, cawing and snapping at him.
“Are you following me?” I called to the stranger.
No response.
Artemus swooped down and his beak made contact with one of the man’s fingers.
“Owwww!”
“He’s not going to stop that, you know,” I said, as I cautiously approached his hiding spot. “He’s got a bit of a stubborn streak.”
The man bolted out of his hiding spot, careful not to show his face. He ran away without another word. Artemus gave chase for a while, but then returned to me, landing on my shoulder.
“Who was that guy?” I asked the bird, as I stroked his head. His eyes closed and that strange purr resurfaced. “Thanks for running him off.”
***
Prince Thornton of Gloud. The very image of prince charming himself – chiseled and gorgeous, blond and courteous, a testament to blue blood refinement. He was courting Azura, the fair princess of Weston, and their marriage had been foretold to end the grisly Trading War between Weston and Gloud. The witch who was my employer simply couldn’t have that. She had a line of spices selling at obscene prices because of the war. With both sides in agreement, her business would cease to exist, for who would pick a price-gouging witch to be a supplier, if given a choice? With the prince out of the way, it would at least buy her some time.
I took a couple of days to study the prince’s routine. It was always easier to not have to infiltrate the castle and needlessly kill other coms. So, when I noticed he went for a daily ride around the outskirts of the castle, I found the best place to intercept him. A place beyond the guard’s patrol, so we could be alone and uninterrupted.
The next day, a royal decree announced the engagement of Princess Azura to Prince Thornton. The whole kingdom was rejoicing—kids were dancing in the streets, singing to music that wasn’t playing. Talking about true love and how you could tell by the way they looked at each other, nothing would ever keep them apart again.
It was just weird.
I decided that afternoon was as good as any to bump him off. I waited in the woods near the trail, far enough away from the castle to not be seen, but close enough for him to hear my distress cries. Artemus sat perched in a nearby tree, high up enough to be camouflaged in the branches. I heard galloping in the distance and as I peeked up to look, my heart immediately sank.
Two horses approached.
By the Wise One, those kids were right! Beautiful Azura sat atop the second steed, riding side-saddle like the elegant little flower she was. To my horror, they stopped on the trail near where I was hiding.
The two of them dismounted, giggled and held hands, and then ran toward the very spot I sat crouched and waiting.
I gulped. This wasn’t part of the deal. I’m only supposed to kill Thornton. That witch was not getting a two for one special.
I let out a breath only after they turned and arrived at a large oak a few yards away. As I watched them make out, I realized they had the same idea as I had. Well, about the not being seen part anyway.
“I love you, my prince,” sweet Azura said, a little breathless as she broke away from the kiss.
“And I you, my love,” the prince predictably returned. “I can’t wait until the day I call you my wife.”
She shrieked a lovesick giggle. “Mrs. Thornton Addler. Has quite a ring to it, don’t you think?”
He kissed her neck, making his way down to her perfectly displayed cleavage, no doubt suspended in place by a painful corset. He nuzzled her breasts, and she let out a soft moan.
“Ooh, you’re making me so hot!” she gasped. “If I return to the palace with flushed cheeks, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I want you,” the prince said, his voice a low growl, his face still submerged in her breasts. “All of you.”
If I believed in werewolves, this would be the part he would turn into one. But as interesting as that would’ve been, it’s not what happened.
“And you will have me,” she murmured, as she lifted his head to be level with hers. “On our wedding night.”
He kissed her fiercely, shoving his tongue in her mouth. It seemed to take an effort for her to push him off.
“You know the scandal it would cause…”
“I don’t care!” He groped her breasts with considerable force, and it just looked painful. “You’re mine.”
She took his hands in hers. “I am yours, my love. Always.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled. Her words seemed to defuse him somehow.
“Only a few more nights,” she said, as she rested her head against his. “I’m as eager as you are, you must know that.”
“I need a moment,” he said. “Being so close to you, and not being able to take you, it’s driving me crazy.”
“I’ll return to the castle. If anyone asks, I’ll say I got winded, and had to cut the ride short.”
He nodded. I understood his frustration; while his behavior seemed a bit dark on the surface, I’d experienced that kind of frustration before, myself. That was of course prior to the discovery that my touch was the reason
all my boyfriends mysteriously died after short (too short) make-out sessions.
She mounted her horse in that dainty princess way of hers, accepting assistance from her noble prince.
He kissed her hand. “I’ll be back with you shortly.”
“I shall count the seconds.”
I wanted to vomit, but that would’ve given me up. If she rode off and he stayed, I could still pull this off. The Wise One knows I couldn’t handle watching another interaction between these two.
He watched her disappear on the trail, then took a deep exhale. I caught a glimpse of his enormous erection as he turned and faced the woods. No wonder he needed a moment. Riding with that would probably be dangerous.
“Grandma, little children, babies, puppy dogs…” he muttered to himself.
It’s now or never, I thought. I can’t go with my original plan of acting hurt, he’s going to wonder what the hell I was doing creeping in the bushes. Screw it, I’m going to go for it… Witch said he was dumb, let’s see how dumb he is…
“You know, I can help you with that,” I said, as I stood. “No one has to know.”
“Where the devil did you come from?” He frantically scanned the woods around me. “And just who are you?”
“No one of consequence, just a com.” I smiled as I approached, positioning myself uncomfortably close to him. I motioned to his crotch. “It seems to me you could use a release right about now.”
His erection hadn’t faltered, not even a little. It was hard to argue my point. The question was whether he would be loyal to his so-called true love.
“Well, I’m not married yet.” A sadistic grin appeared on his face.
Chapter Two
Ifound it amusing how easy it was to distract him–a simple brushing of my hand against his crotch, even over his clothing, was all it took for him to stop asking questions or pause to wonder why a woman ready to have sex just appeared in the forest. He really wasn’t that bright.
It was these little observations that made it easier to justify my work. With someone like that, it’s not a stretch to speculate that the kingdom would be better off without him running the show.
“You like it rough, don’t you?” I whispered in his ear. His response was to yank my hair back and bite my neck.
Justification #2: Saving poor Azura from a painful, most likely unfulfilling sex life. Maybe after his death, she could find someone with a disposition more suited to her own.
He kissed me hard, shoving his tongue so deep in my throat I would’ve sworn he was searching for my tonsils. I sucked on his tongue as I kissed him back, which only made the fervor worse.
He unbuckled his pants and shoved mine down so quickly I hardly had time to register what was happening. I was grateful that their brief make-out session, coupled with that sloppy kiss we just shared had manage to turn me on a little, so I wasn’t bone dry. Still when he penetrated me, it hurt at first. It had been awhile, and like the good prince, I too needed a release. The pain quickly turned to pleasure as I wrapped my legs around him and groaned in ecstasy, willing the orgasm to come. He backed me against a tree, continuing to thrust. Just a few more and I would be there, I was sure.
But then he faltered. He lowered himself to the ground, and even as death started to consume him, he motioned for me to mount him. On the brink of release, he didn’t have to ask me twice.
“Hold on, hold on,” I whispered, as I climbed on top of him. But it was no use, his erection disappeared as he grew more and more pallid. I sighed.
It had occurred to me before that this was some kind of penance for my crimes. Like the myth of Tantalus and the grapes just out of reach, I would never know release.
Poor Azura. Though I saved her from a lifetime of bad sex, I knew she would be devastated. She couldn’t handle a scandal on top of the prince’s death, it might kill the girl. So as gross as it was, I carefully redressed him, eliminating all clues as to what had actually transpired there. At least her memory of him wouldn’t be stained with betrayal.
Artemus followed me home, keeping his distance in the sky above. I always got the feeling he was making a defiant statement, a disapproval of my profession. Sometimes I would rationalize it to him, like today, explaining about the prince. He didn’t seem to care and would only rejoin me on my shoulder the following day.
I always believed that people should embrace their strengths. With a power like mine, how else would I use it? It’s not like I was mass murdering people or killing for the fun of it. I had a system. Sure, it was flawed, and getting paid for contract hits by vils—I could see how in some people’s minds would make me a vil myself. But I’m not the mastermind, I’m just the means to an end. Vils seek me out when they can’t do it themselves. It’s no different from an executioner clocking in another day of work when he tightens the noose around someone’s neck.
***
The next day I met up with the witch again at her hovel. News of the prince’s demise had doubtless made its way to her doorstep, it was all anyone spoke about. Whispers of a man they called ‘black death’ swirled around like leaves on a windy autumn afternoon.
I know, I know, it’s a stupid name, but I wasn’t the one who came up with it. The authorities in Excelsia weren’t particularly creative when it came to naming criminals. My power deteriorated the skin, leaving black traces behind, so that’s the brilliant moniker they made for me.
The witch didn’t bother with an appearance illusion spell this time—her real and unadulterated self was there on display. So, so many warts. Some with hairs. Others with smaller warts growing on top of them. If I stared hard enough, I could make out constellation patterns. But I didn’t dare. Staring at witches really pisses them off. And you know what happens then.
Her smile only contorted the warts, making it even harder not to stare at them. “20 crowns, as promised!” She tossed the bag of coins to me and cackled giddily.
“Thanks.” From the weight of it, I could tell the amount was right. Showdown with creepy witch averted.
“Your work is stellar, my dear.” She clapped her hands together. “Oh! I’ve got someone who could use your services!”
She rummaged through a makeshift desk in the corner of the room. With her back turned to me, I got a view of the exposed part of her shoulders and there I saw the most impressive collection of moles I’d ever seen. Some of them looked hard, as if the warts and moles had procreated to produce that horrific offspring.
“Here it is!” She handed me a card. It read in bold letters, “Gerod Smith, Potions and Amulets.”
“Thanks, again,” I said. “I’ll just get out of your hair now…”
She cackled again, a great big hearty witchy laugh. “You surprised me, dear. I figured you to be just another one of those idiots. Call themselves killers and then end up dead or in jail.” She eyed me as if she were sizing me up. “But you, you got the job done!”
I had to admit, it was nice to see her upbeat for a change, and getting another job lined up was an unexpected bonus. As a contract killer, jobs were sometimes scarce, and it wasn’t like I could go around calling myself ‘black death.’ It sounded lame even thinking about it.
On my way out of the hovel, I noticed a man staring in my direction from across the way. He hurriedly looked away, which of course only made me more suspicious of him. I kept him in my peripheral vision as I left town, Artemus seated comfortably on my shoulder.
The man was following me, and not too covertly either. It was almost laughable, catching him duck behind trees in the distance when I turned around to look. I was 99% sure he was the same guy from the other day, the one Artemus chased off at the river.
I had another couple of miles before I made it to the address the witch gave me. There was no way in hell I was going to let this dipshit follow me there. Random strangers tagging along to prospective clients’ houses was just bad for business.
I stopped walking and turned around. “What’s your deal?”
He darte
d into the woods, but I could still see half of his body.
“You’re not fooling anyone.” I folded my arms against my chest. “I’m just going to sic Artemus on you.”
The man cleared his throat. “Please don’t.” He stepped out into the open and then approached me.
Half of me wanted to punch the guy, but the other half was a bit more cautious. I mean, I did the same thing to my targets—scope them out first. But if this guy were trying to kill me, I would think he’d be a little more discreet. Then another thought occurred to me… what if he’s my competition, trying to get in on my next job?
“If you don’t start talking in the next five seconds, I promise you will regret it.” Not for very long, but still…
Dreams of Darkness: An Anthology of Dark Fairytales Page 11
