Heart of a Traitor

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  The doors to the carriage were opened, revealing Marcos Faust, his presence powerful and confident. Behind him stood Louie and Carmen, their eyes like ice as they looked at her. Behind them stood a dozen bodyguards, weapons drawn.

  “Betti Geheimnis...” Marcos began, taking a slow draw on his cigar as he eyed the necklace around her neck. “I have not yet had the pleasure.”

  Nariko stepped out and straightened her outfit. She bowed deeply and named the heads of all six-branch families from memory.

  “She was always good at that part,” Louie groused.

  “...I ask only to stay at your son’s side, nothing more,” Nariko said, finishing the traditional oath.

  Marcos grinned; smoke escaping from his parted lips. He put out his hand to receive her, his skin dotted with painful-looking black boils.

  He must have handled the stone directly.

  Nariko reached out to place her hand in his, but Marcos pulled away.

  “Do you have any idea who it is you have blithely brought with you today?” Marcos asked Brannon frigidly.

  “She is my fiancée,” Brannon answered, almost withering before his father’s gaze.

  “Just a few days before the most important transaction in our generation, this woman appears out of nowhere and practically throws herself at your brother...”

  “Clumsily...” Carmen spat.

  “Clumsily throws herself at your brother, then turns her sights on you and you simply accept that at face value?” Marcos asked.

  “I sought her out,” Brannon insisted, taking her hand. Nariko squeezed it back to embolden him.

  “Did you now?” Marcos repeated, taking another long draw on his cigar. “Louie, what is the first rule of business?”

  “Always know who you are doing business with,” Louie stated.

  “We are not detectives, Miss Geheimnis,” Marcos said as he raised his arms. “We are a family. And the foundation of family is trust. Simply put, we cannot yet trust you.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Nariko asked, half-stepping behind Brannon for effect.

  Marcos stepped in closely and looked at her with his frosty eyes. “We are going to give you an opportunity to earn our trust, of course.”

  Louie came forward, holding a thick metal collar.

  “Sweetie, what are they doing?” Nariko asked, resisting the collar being placed around her neck.

  “It’s a blood ritual,” Brannon said, regretfully. “If you pass, then you acquire his trust.”

  The collar was affixed and chimed to life. Louie held up the detonator menacingly.

  They’re even using a dead man’s switch, they’ve thought of everything.

  “You cannot acquire without taking risks, young lady,” Marcos said, in an almost fatherly way. “That is the second rule of business.”

  “If you fail...” Carmen said, licking her lips. “Well, even your kind can’t live without a head.”

  Stay calm. You can still do this. Just pass their test and complete the mission.

  “I won’t fail,” Nariko said, unyielding.

  The next few minutes was an onslaught of humiliation as the bodyguards searched Nariko from head to toe, with Louie and Carmen watching viciously while Marcos and Brannon spoke off to one side. These men were professionals and managed to find every piece of equipment that Nariko had hidden on her person. Her perfume bottle containing a powerful paralytic, her hairpin containing a dose of neurotoxin, the throwing knives hidden in the lining of her corset and the retractable blade in the heels of her shoes. They even found the monofilament wire hidden in the hem of her dress.

  Nariko waited patiently for a possible opening to strike, but none came. The other men were smart and kept their distance, never lowering their guard or their weapons for a second.

  Stripped of all her weapons and gear she was led into the screening room, where a man laid gagged and tied at the wrists and ankles.

  “Miss Geheimnis,” Marcos explained. “You were introduced to our organization by Isidor Nikta. When you began Feierliche we naturally pressed him for further details as a matter of course. Under pressure, he admitted to us that he had done so because his gambling debts had been paid off by his brother-in-law, Don Kielter.”

  Louie kicked the bound man and he rolled over, revealing his bruised and bashed face. It was Don Kielter. Marcos looked coldly into Nariko’s eyes searching for any sign of recognition, but Nariko gave him none. Inside, however, her heart beat wildly with panic.

  “Except according to all records Don Kielter died several months ago when his privateer ship was destroyed.”

  “I don’t know this man; I have never seen him before!” Nariko insisted. “You wanted to buy some ships and I had some to sell, it was as simple as that.”

  “So you can imagine how our interest was piqued when an hour ago we spotted that very same man watching this hot-room from a nearby rooftop and when my men moved in to question him, they were attacked by several people wearing civilian clothes,” Marcos explained.

  There was a muffled explosion and room shook slightly.

  “And it looks like more fighting is going on out there as we speak,” Marcos observed

  Nariko felt like screaming, but she held herself in check.

  “I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation why...” Nariko began, but Marcos only held up his boil-covered hand. “Explanations are for police and lawyers. I am neither of those. I want you to show me.”

  A pistol was produced and placed into Nariko’s hands.

  “Maybe you really are just a business woman who fell in love with my son, in which case this man here means nothing to you. Or maybe you are a plant who used this man to get close to my son and twist his heart into a knot just to get in here. Like I said, I want you to show me. Kill this man and you will earn my trust.”

  Nariko stood there, frozen in place. Don Kielter stared back at her, his bruised face rising and falling as he attempted to breathe through the gag.

  “Maybe she’s not a killer, dad,” Brannon pleaded.

  “Did you not see the pile of weapons we just pulled off of her? How stupid can you be?” Marcos rebuked.

  “It would be unwise for a woman as lovely as her to not carry at least some defense,” the bodyguard Lucius pointed out.

  “Which brings us back full circle,” Marcos declared. “She will now show us who she really is.”

  Nariko fought with her own body. It wanted to tremble, but she forced herself to stay still. It wanted to fold over, but she willed herself to remain standing. Don Kielter was breathing raggedly. Every cell in her body wanted to reach down and comfort him, to kiss him and to hold him, but every eye in the room was upon her. If she gave even the slightest indication that she knew him, she would be killed and the mission would fail.

  “Miss Geheimnis,” Marcos said slowly. “Either you kill him, or you die. Please choose quickly.”

  No, not this, anything but this...

  Nariko fingered the weapon loosely, as if she didn’t know how to hold it properly. Her mind tried to fight past the panic and find a way out of this, but she couldn’t think of anything. She ran hundreds of scenarios, but could not find one that would work. They had her trapped and she knew it.

  Out of the corner of her eye Nariko could see Carmen holding the silver case that no doubt contained the Eagalo Stone.

  If I don’t get that stone back, my people will never be free of the curse.

  Nariko could still feel Don Kielter’s kiss on her lips. She could also feel the burn of the seal hidden on her shoulder blade. They both wrestled for her attention, a battle of sweet and sour within her. Nariko kept her face still, but inside she was terrified.

  All of my friends, I will be condemning them all to an eternity of damnation.

  Nariko gripped the gun tightly, her heart screaming inside her chest. She had sworn no oath to Don Kielter, but she felt a loyalty to him she couldn’t explain and it felt stronger than steel.

  Bu
t, if I shoot, he’ll die.

  Nariko willed her arms to move, but they would not. Beneath controlled and dispassionate lips, she ground her teeth. If her mission was to succeed, her will would have to be stronger than steel. Slowly, she raised the barrel and pointed it at his face. He didn’t seem afraid, he only looked at her blankly and all she could think about was the way he made her laugh and how when she was with him she didn’t feel alone.

  Everyone dies. Whether by disease, injury, or old age. No matter what I do he will die someday. All I am doing is trading a few of his years to save an entire race of people. It’s his own stupid fault for getting caught anyway.

  Nariko inhaled sharply. She had been holding her breath. Slowly she used her thumb to release the safety.

  Looking sideways, Nariko could see Louie fingering the detonator in anticipation.

  If I don’t shoot, they will kill me.

  Nariko was losing control. The emotions were far stronger than her will could ever be. She could feel her eyes moistening, tears forming at the corners. The barrel of the weapon began shaking in her hand.

  Don Kielter looked at her tenderly and then leaned forward, touching his forehead against the tip of the barrel. His expression seemed to say, ‘save yourself, save your people.’

  Nariko began squeezing the trigger and the hammer pulled back to fire.

  He’s my...

  Nariko’s lips quivered. Her red eyes shook back and forth. Her knees shivered. Her hands were slick with sweat. Her heart throbbed so hard in her chest she felt it tearing apart. Every nerve in her body was alive with pain.

  My...

  The gun trembled in her grip, the hammer holding on the edge of releasing.

  I can’t do it...

  The gun fell out of her hands, clattering on the floor and Nariko dropped to her knees and completely broke down. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she embraced Don Kielter, pulling him close to her and crying into his neck.

  “Nari, why didn’t you just do it?” Don Kielter lamented through the gag.

  “I couldn’t,” Nariko sobbed, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight.

  As Nariko wept, Marcos stepped forward and picked up the gun off the floor. He squeezed the trigger and the weapon clicked without discharging.

  “It’s empty,” Marcos revealed as he rolled his cigar thoughtfully in his fingers. “I am afraid you failed the test, Miss Geheimnis.

  Brannon stepped forward, his handsome face twisted by grief. “You know,” he began, “when we first met you told me you were from Correll and I...I thought it sounded so strange I looked it up. There we no files on it anywhere. I thought it must have been some sort of mistake; I actually convinced myself that I must have the spelling wrong or misheard, so when you were sleeping, I checked your ident-card and everything said you were from Fridricks. I knew that was not what you had said, but I ignored it and do you know why?”

  Nariko shook her head slowly as she whimpered and sobbed.

  “Because when we were together. I thought there is no way this can be fake. No one could be so heartless as to make me feel this way and not feel it in return.”

  Brannon sniffed, his lip trembling. “Was any of it real, Betti? Was it all nothing more than a lie?”

  Marcos closed his eyes and placed his hand on Brannon’s shoulder, sympathetically.

  Between gasps of breath, Nariko finally forced herself to speak. “It was nothing personal, okay? I was only following my orders.”

  Brannon buried his face in his sleeve to hide his own pain. Louie and Carmen clucked their tongues in disgust.

  Marcos puffed his cigar and nodded approvingly. “That is the first honest thing you have said, Betti.” Marcos took a moment to roll the cigar in his fingers. “I can see that for you nothing gets in the way of business. Believe it or not, I find that an admirable trait.”

  Louie lifted up the detonator to the collar, a wicked grin on his face.

  “What are you doing?” Marcos asked, eyebrow cocked.

  “I-I was just going to finish her off...” Louie answered, growing unsure.

  “Like that? In this little room? You’ll get blood everywhere. We’re all about to go into the hot-room, what are they gonna say if we’re all covered in brains?”

  “Sorry, dad.”

  “It’s all right, just think next time.”

  “No, really, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not a problem, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

  Marcos took another draw on his cigar and Louie pulled out his weapon.

  I’m sorry Keiko.

  Louie aimed the ion pistol at Nariko’s head.

  “If we had met under different circumstances,” Marcos mused, “I would have gladly accepted you into my family.”

  I’m sorry Sakurako.

  The power cells in the pistol came to life with a whirr.

  “A woman as beautiful and cold as you would have been a true asset to my organization.”

  I’m sorry Michi.

  “Wait!” someone screamed.

  Marcos looked over. It was Brannon who had yelled.

  “Let me do it,” Brannon insisted, his eyes puffy and red with indignation.

  Marcos was impressed and with a nod of his head, the pistol was passed to Brannon.

  I’m sorry, everyone.

  Brannon stood tall and straight over her, the hate in his eyes a mere shadow of the hate she felt for herself.

  “Goodbye Betti,” Brannon said, pulling the trigger.

  I failed.

  Nariko heard the shrill whirr of the weapon firing, mingled with the muffled sound of a man yelling. Nariko found herself being pushed aside. Looking up she saw Don Kielter jumping up, placing himself between her and the blast.

  The weapon struck Don Kielter square in the chest. His body collapsed to the ground before her, his hands outstretching through the pain and convulsions. As he writhed in agony he rolled over, facing her. His eyes became dull and lifeless and just like that, he was gone.

  For a moment all was silent.

  Nariko shrieked in horror. Her heart died inside her, splintering into a million shards of anguish that pierced her very being. Her world crumbled apart around her. Her ability to move, her ability speak, and her ability to think all shattered inside her mind. There was nothing. Nothing but a wretched misery that swallowed her whole. Time and space unraveled before her. She existed in a universe filled only with suffering. It had no height, no width, and no depth. It stretched out in all directions for eternity. Suffering without beginning and without end. The person that she was simply ceased to exist, withering into ash and scattering before the throes of her pain.

  “What a waste!” Brannon said, disgusted and fired a second shot. This time he hit Nariko square in the temple and her body crumpled to the ground dead.

  The readout above the hallway chimed, indicating that the other party had arrived and was ready to enter the hot-room. Marcos patted Brannon proudly on the back as the Faust family walked down the hallway.

  They left Nariko’s body where it had fallen, her lifeless hands half reaching out toward the body of Don Kielter, his cold hands half reaching back for hers, but never touching.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Metamorphosis

  To ascribe a sensation as painful depends entirely on how it compares with accustomed levels experienced. One who exists under constant pressure does not notice the prick of a finger. One who exists under continual agony does not notice the bite of a blade. Before you seek to be strong, understand that this is the path and the way of strength.

  -Book of Cerinţǎ, Chapter 1, verse 1

  Marshal Rochestri leaned nonchalantly against the wall of the screening room. Outwardly he appeared serene, but his staff knew him well enough to recognize the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

  “The local police have managed to fight off the attackers outside,” his oracle reported. “Things seem to have quieted down for the moment.”
/>   “They’re not dead?” Rochestri asked, his dissatisfaction clear.

  “They are shockingly well armed,” the oracle explained dispassionately. “The local authorities appear to be outmatched.”

  Rochestri turned to his soothsayer. “You’re positive the Fausts have brought the genuine article?”

  “Without a doubt,” the young woman affirmed. “I can sense the Eagalo Stone clearly.”

  “This stinks of a trap in every way,” Rochestri grumbled as he clutched the oathstone underneath his long coat tightly. The aggression was stronger now, but it was still blunt and unfocused. If it weren’t for the oathstone’s reassurance that no one meant him harm, he’d simply walk away. Doubt began to nag at him for the first time in centuries, but this was too important to back out on without something more definite.

  “I can’t believe Molotop let those suspects escape,” his adjunct complained. “He should be flayed for his incompetence.”

  “Rein in the flaying, kid,” Rochestri cautioned. “I didn’t deputize Molotop for no reason. The nature of our work requires powerful individualists. People that brim with intuition and initiative, not mindless drones who swallow orders. If Molotop had stayed put and awaited word he never would have caught them in the first place.”

  “But a whole organization of such people, each with limitless authority, is just a nest of vipers,” his adjunct observed.

  Rochestri tipped up the brim of his hat and looked at the young man. It took balls of brass to denigrate the Marshals in the presence of one. Rochestri respected him for it. “That’s why we have the second council, kid. To watch over the other Marshals and keep their infighting in check.”

  “But who watches the watchers?”

  The readout above the hallway chimed, indicating that the other party had arrived and was ready to enter the hot-room.

  The opposite door opened heavily and the heads of the Faust family entered with their wives and fiancées. Through the stone, Rochestri could read their thoughts and emotions effortlessly. The oldest son cared nothing for his fiancé, while his uncle was completely loyal to his wife. Most of the bodyguards were unsure of this situation, except for the head guard who brimmed with confidence. Rochestri knew that he would need to watch that man carefully, for men without fear were always the most dangerous to him.