Khaos

by Louise Manson

  ‘Impressive,’ said a voice behind Khaos. She was surprised to hear a real voice, expecting the one in her head to have awakened once more. She turned slowly, realising that during the fight they had got closer and closer to the door, and were now within a few yards of it. Light was streaming from the open doorway, and a figure was standing there. In the gloom and shadows, Khaos could only make out her light-coloured hair and willowy frame.

  ‘Would you like to come inside?’ said the figure in a soft, inviting voice.

  Khaos approached the doorway wondering why, when she had just killed someone in her garden, the host was being so welcoming.

  Up close, Khaos saw that she was an extraordinary looking young woman. She was tall, at least as tall as Khaos herself, with an amazing shock of thick, white blonde hair, styled into the most perfect asymmetrical bob. She wore a smart pinstriped skirt and suit jacket, and killer black heels. But it was her eyes that were the most striking; they were the brightest ice blue colour, penetrating Khaos’s grey ones with an intense, unblinking stare. This was not the face of either of the sisters, so Khaos guessed that she was some sort of assistant.

  ‘Come in,’ said the woman again, opening the large double doors invitingly. She did not introduce herself or shake her hand, though Khaos was hardly expecting her to act on ceremony when she had just killed a colleague in the front garden.

  Khaos entered a long, opulent hallway; huge black glass chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings at intervals, thick champagne coloured carpets covered the floors, and large print textured wallpaper on one side and the sheer glass outer wall on the other. The white haired woman gestured for Khaos to walk in front.

  ‘My Mistress and I were very impressed with the swift way you executed my colleague, Russell.’

  ‘Uh…’ Khaos was lost for words.

  ‘We saw the whole thing on the security camera, you see. Miss Portabello was most entertained.’

  ‘Entertained?’

  ‘She has a taste for the macabre.’ The woman’s voice was as soft as silk, and somehow familiar. But Khaos was much too confused by her current situation to try to think where she had met her before.

  A metallic jab between her shoulder blades swiftly sent her back to reality.

  ‘Just in case you try to pull another stunt like the one in the garden, my sharp little friend will be the last thing you will feel,’ the woman whispered over Khaos’s shoulder, her mouth inches from Khaos’s ear. She was so close Khaos could smell her skin. Khaos cleared her throat nervously, feeling those eyes on her and not daring to turn and meet them. She considered, knowing that she was invincible, whether it was worth trying to fight at this point. But she recalled the slicing, burning sound of the sword cutting through her last victim’s flesh, and she opted out, repulsed. The last thing she wanted was more blood on her hands. The less of that the better. Besides, she was in the house, and something told her, despite the weapon she was currently being quietly threatened with, that she was not in trouble for the assassin’s death.

  ‘Here,’ said the silk voice, gesturing to an open double door. Within was a large living room, a plush green L-shaped sofa dominated one corner, and dotted around the room were several matching individual seats. One wall was an enormous floor to ceiling bookshelf, the rest were glass, again, with what must have been a great daytime view of the garden. Now it was pitch black, and the dark windows loomed ominously.

  ‘Wait here.’

  And with that, the white haired woman marched to the door and left Khaos abruptly.

  Left to her own devices, and wondering what her fate was to be, Khaos stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, eyeing the security camera above the door. Were they going to call the police? It didn’t seem likely, somehow. Khaos wandered over to the bookshelf, browsing idly, noticing that it was in no particular order and the themes ranged from thick, intellectual volumes such as War and Peace and Paradise Lost, to simplistic fairy tales; Snow White Cinderella The Little Mermaid. Khaos fingers brushed over a leather-bound King James version of the Bible, and she hesitated. ‘Do I get a mention?’ she wondered to herself. She pulled it out carefully and flicked it open at random. It fell open at a page with a woodcut picture Khaos was drawn to; Christ on the cross, complete with his crown of thorns. The footnote read: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

  ‘A keen reader, are you?’ said a voice by the door.

  Khaos jumped, taken by surprise, and bundled the book back onto the shelf, turning to see that another woman had appeared noiselessly by the door. She knew by the photographs she had seen in the paper, that it was one of the sisters though she could not remember if it was Carmen, or the other one. Marta? Maria? Marion? She recognised the long dark hair, salon-styled into perfect waves, the dark, beautiful, long eyelashes, eyebrows perfectly shaped, dark brown eyes. Even at this time of night, she had a full face of makeup. Her amazing figure was complimented by a black and white patterned kimono that was probably designer-made and worth a fortune. Behind her were two heavy set men in dark suits with earpieces. They looked like they did not have a sense of humour at all.

  ‘I was just admiring your collection,’ said Khaos, trying not to sound so nervous.

  ‘Oh really? Are you sure you weren’t looking for a secret door?’

  Khaos stared at her in confusion. Was she joking?

  ‘Because of course, all oversized bookcases have secret doors, you just have to find the right book?’ she continued, approaching her slowly, her face deadpan. She reached for a book very close to Khaos - Paradise Lost and pulled its corner down dramatically. The book fell onto the floor, harmlessly, and nothing happened.

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ she laughed.

  ‘Ha…ridiculous… Yes…’ Khaos nervously chuckled.

  ‘Wrong book! My mistake!’ the Portobello sister said through a fixed, toothy grin, and reached for Snow White There was a click, and a section of the bookcase swung inward. Khaos caught a glimpse of the room within, small and almost empty, except for something tall under a cloth. Khaos thought she felt a twinge of pain… her headache seemed to be returning…

  ‘I just love showing people that,’ said the sister, bringing Khaos back to reality. She clicked the book back and the door swung shut again. ‘I’ve always wanted a secret door in a bookcase, like in one of those old horror films, you know? I’ve never even read any of these books!’ She laughed enthusiastically at her own joke. Khaos joined in awkwardly; there was something underlying, hidden, beneath this woman’s smile, that seemed menacing. All the time her eyes flickered over Khaos face, taking everything in and calculating.

  ‘So aren’t you going to say your line?’ Her face was once again, deadpan.

  ‘My line?’ Khaos asked once again, completely thrown.

  ‘I’m sorry; I thought we were in some sort of clichéd film… You’ve tried to break into my house, killed my excellent assassin body guard, snooped through my bookcase looking for a secret door… The next line is “What are you going to do to me?” or “why are you keeping me here?” if you prefer.’ She looked dramatically at Khaos for a response.

  ‘Uh… Well I was actually wondering if you had called the police…’

  ‘Oh, you’re no fun. Fine, since you won’t play along, let’s discuss this normally, shall we?’ She smiled another completely false smile. ‘My name is Marla, Marla Portabello.’ She extended a hand.

  When their hands made contact, Khaos felt that pressure build again behind her eyes, and that sick dizzy feeling came over her once more, as it had when she had touched Abel’s hand in the desert. She closed her eyes, and opened them onto the grey world. She saw Marla’s life flashing before her in a series of images: Her birth into her rich, successful family. Her younger sister being born, Marla only a few years older, barely managing to hold the baby on her lap. Their every desire catered for, they never wanted for anything. But as the two sisters grew older, everyone noticed her sister Carmen, and how pretty
she was, while Marla was in her shadow. Their parents pass away in a plane crash and Marla takes the reins of the family business. She works hard, but no one seems to appreciate it. Meanwhile Carmen gets even more media attention. All the time, throughout the memories of her life, Marla’s aura gets darker and darker. Power goes to her head, people who disagree with her start to go missing. Her aura was dark and dim, just like the blackness she had seen surrounding Cain. But, there was something else in the periphery of Khaos vision. A hint, just a suggestion, of darkness. A mere shadow gathering behind the bookshelf, in the room she had just glimpsed?

  She opened her eyes and was back in the room. Colour spilled around her, normalising everything. Marla was still talking, and didn’t seem to notice what had happened.

  ‘…I presume you know that we’re always in the media, my sister and I. That’s why I’m so strict about my privacy, that’s why I hired someone to hide in the garden, in case of trespassers. What is your name?’ she looked into Khaos face expectantly.

  For several seconds, Khaos’ mind went blank. It had not occurred to her that she would need an alias, yet ‘Khaos’ sounded too weird. Desperately trying to think of an ordinary name, and remembering Carmen, the other sister’s name, she rolled it around in her head over and over, though she knew she couldn’t use it. Finally, she blurted:

  ‘Carm…Ca… Cam.’

  She mumbled, her eyes alighting desperately on the security camera in the corner above the door for inspiration. ‘Yes, sorry, it’s Cam.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ Marla murmered, obviously not fooled, but for some reason not pressing any further. ‘Well Cam, what brings you to my house? Are you a journalist? A pap, perhaps? Though, I’ve never seen one with a sword before…’

  ‘No, I’m not a journalist or anything, and I just want to say I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to kill him…’

  ‘Don’t be coy, Cam. It looked pretty deliberate when your sword went straight through him…’

  ‘I’m sorry…’ Khaos was shaking, partly with dread at her own doing, partly remembering the sound it had made.

  Marla’s smile became triumphant. ‘Though personally, my favourite part was when you got shot in the head, and miraculously survived.’

  ‘You saw that…?!’

  ‘Darling, I saw everything! It was all on the security camera! I must say, it was very entertaining. Better than television!’ Her eyes were so wide Khaos could see the madness, brimming in them.

  ‘But I killed him…’ Khaos wailed through her hands, covering her mouth.

  ‘I think you misunderstand me, Cam, so let me put things to you in plain English. Sit down.’

  Khaos felt the cliché line rise to her mouth before she could stop it. ‘What are you going to do to me?’

  ‘Sit down.’

  All of a sudden, the joking was gone and Marla’s tone became intimidating. Khaos obeyed, sitting down hurriedly on the edge of one of the individual seats. Marla herself sprawled confidently on the L shaped sofa opposite. ‘In answer to your previous question, no, I’m not going to call the police. I don’t usually involve them in my affairs. And you are not in trouble. At least, not at the moment. I am impressed with what I saw tonight, genuinely. You fight like your sword is alive, and as for the shot to the head…’ she raised her hand to silence Khaos, who had nearly tried to speak at this point to explain herself. ‘Spare me the bullshit. I know you will try to lie to me, but I know what I saw. I’m sure the truth of what you are will become plain soon. For now, it is sufficient for me to know that you have a gift.’ She smiled. ‘You know, Russell, the guy you killed, used to boast that he was invincible?! Can you believe that! People really shouldn’t go around saying stuff like that, should they?’ She looked at Khaos calculatingly again. ‘It’s only going to make someone want to challenge them, isn’t it?’

  ‘What do you want from me?’ Khaos whispered.

  ‘Hmm. What do I want?’ She gazed thoughtfully at Khaos, hand on her chin, tapping her pretty mouth with her forefinger. ‘I think I want to keep you. I need a replacement, now that you’ve dispatched my assassin.’ She pretended to be looking at her non-existent split ends. ‘Of course you might try to escape, but I’m sure you won’t get very far. You’ve met my lovely assistant, Loka?’ Marla gestured toward the door, where Khaos saw the white haired woman was waiting, watching them. ‘She has amazing vision. Like a hawk. And she never misses.’

  Khaos gulped. Even if she couldn’t actually die, she still didn’t want to be tracked down and probably tortured by that cold, cruel woman with her unblinking stare. There were some things worse than death.

  ‘Or one of my heavies here will bring you down,’ continued Marla reflectively. ‘Or I will call the police. Then you will be wanted for murder! Ha ha!’

  ‘You’re blackmailing me?’

  ‘I suppose so! Or I could torture you, that would be fun. I know you can feel pain.’ She smirked knowingly, almost reading Khaos’s previous thoughts. ‘So you have no choice but to stay here, until I think of a way I can use you. Loka?’

  ‘Mistress?’

  ‘Haha. Mistress. I love that,’ laughed Marla to herself. ‘You know I ask her to call me that? She’s so severe isn’t she?’ The joke suddenly switched to a threat again. ‘She also doesn’t sleep. So don’t think about snooping around after dark, either.

  ‘Loka, take her to the servants’ quarters, I believe there is a spare room now Russell is gone.’

  As Khaos was led out, once again at knife point, Marla followed them and touched Khaos arm sympathetically. ‘Oh don’t look so sad, Cam. Do you believe in fate?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, so do I. I think fate brought you here for a purpose.’ She smiled her false, cold smile again. Khaos smiled grimly as she was led away.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Loka led Khaos in silence down to the end of the corridor, where there were another set of double doors, leading out to a courtyard garden with a pretty carved marble fountain bubbling away in the middle of it. They went outside, crossing the courtyard, and entered another, smaller stone building opposite. It was long and low-ceilinged and seemed decidedly older than the glass structure next door. Khaos wondered if it was possibly an original outhouse or stable that had been converted, it certainly looked that way. The sharp blade pricked once more into her back, and her concerns suddenly returned to her current predicament.

  ‘Is that necessary?’ she risked a glance into that ice gaze. ‘You know you can’t kill me.’

  ‘I’d still give it a try though. Just give me the chance. Only one step out of place. So just try it,’ Loka threatened softly.

  Khaos was ushered through the second door inside the low building and into a fairly simple, small room with a single bed pushed up against one wall, a small chest of drawers, and a single built in wardrobe. The belongings, or what little there had been, of her predecessor, had already been removed, leaving only a layer of dust on the chest of drawers in a circular mark, as if a cup had once been there, as a reminder of the other person’s brief existence here.

  ‘You will stay here tonight, until the mistress decides what she wants to do with you.’

  ‘Where’s your room?’

  Loka shot her a glare. ‘It’s at the end of the hall, right by the door. So if you try and sneak past, you’ll have bullets in your ankles before you even reach for the handle.’ She smiled a threatening, feline smile. ‘Sleep well, “Cam”.’ She said the name as if she knew it was false. She turned abruptly and slammed the door in Khaos’ face.

  Shocked and confused by this strange farewell, and the chilly reception Loka had given her, Khaos sat down on the end of the bed, exhausted by the events of the night. First there was the awful, bloodthirsty fight with the assassin in the garden – she could still picture his look of horror and pain as the flaming sword had cut through him like butter, the flames burning his flesh and clothes, the smell…

  She shook herself, trying to dismiss those
thoughts. ‘The sword, it was the sword,’ she muttered to herself again, like a mantra.

  Then there was the beautiful but clearly insane Marla, delighting at the death of her employee, completely out of touch with reality. What sort of person hires assassins and revels at death and gore? Khaos could still picture the gleam of excitement as Marla had looked at Khaos, the cogs in her head turning with insane thoughts.

  And what had she seen in that hidden room? She had felt strange when she saw it, it was a different sort of darkness to Marla’s and Cain’s. Theirs had been a desolate grey-black, whereas the evil in the secret room had been more of a dark purple, like a bruise.

  And what was with this assistant, Loka? She made her dislike of Khaos obvious. But she also seemed slightly awkward, as if she could not bear to be around Khaos for too long. Was it because she had killed her colleague? Or was there something more to this? Khaos could still not shake the feeling that she was familiar, though you would think a white haired young woman with a love for small sharp knives would be memorable.

  Khaos’s shoulders itched again, as they always did when she thought too much. She scratched at them unconsciously, her chain of thought uninterrupted. Both Marla and that Loka woman seemed intent on making her feel prisoner, but Khaos was not planning to go anywhere. They had actually created a perfect situation for Khaos; she needed to get access to Marla so that she could get to the demon, and now all she had to do was wait.

  As Khaos was thinking about this, a feeling of dread built in her stomach at what was to come. How was she going to know that the demon had manifested? How would she know how to kill it when the time came? She wished the voice was awake, or Nyx was here to reassure her. But Nyx was somewhere outside; would he know where she was? And the voice was silent for the moment, coming and going like a fever. But she had still been able to see into the spirit’s world when she had touched Marla’s hand… Khaos recalled what she had seen there. Surely it was possible for her to control it? She closed her eyes, trying to see that grey world again, but nothing happened. She gave up, and lay back on the bed, trying to quieten her thoughts and drift off to sleep.