by Nia Arthurs
Maveth doesn’t stand a chance.
I clear my throat. “It’s embarrassing how much I know about you.”
Maveth grunts in displeasure, but I carry on.
“Alistair spoke of how you murdered your own chief in cold-blood and got kicked out of the very league you wanted to lead. I’m guessing killing innocent people is in your DNA. No wonder you never got their approval.”
Fast as a flash, Maveth has my neck in his grip.
“You know nothing,” he hisses. Spittle hits my cheek.
Great, Kendall! Now you have his slobber all over you.
My hostage negotiation plans are crashing and burning like meteors. I guess this is why I pursued baking instead of psychology.
Maveth is really ticked. The reality of death sharpens as he chokes me. Black spots move before my eyes like an old film that’s been corrupted.
His hands move in tighter and tighter until the black dots become sparkling stars.
This is it. This is how I’m going to die. It’s a lot more violent than I’d anticipated.
And a lot nastier. I wish I could wipe his spit from my cheek.
My breath comes short. Wait… is this really it? A surge of energy snakes up my spine. I start smacking Maveth’s hands and squirming around to escape him.
He holds firm.
My strength is no match for his. I know I should have worked out at the Y when Courtney invited me instead of slacking off.
I lose energy quickly as the black spots start merging together.
I’m thinking of the best ways to convince St. Peter to let me through the pearly gates when the pressure lessens.
Suddenly, Maveth’s hold on my neck loosens and he stumbles backward. His face is pale.
Is he okay?
I hear the whistle of a knife being freed from its pouch, but I’m still too occupied drinking in big gulps of air to pay him mind.
When I find my breath, I glare at Maveth. That anger turns into fear when I catch a glimpse of the knife in his palms.
Maveth’s sharp dagger comes barreling down at me and I flinch, expecting my world to end.
Maveth’s knife reaches its target and something falls away I peek one eye open expecting to see my body on the other side of the room or something.
Instead I realize that Maveth has severed the ropes around my hands.
“Get up.”
I do so warily.
“You want to play? You think you can beat me?”
He’d have to clarify what game we’d be playing. I’m a boss at UNO. In fact, I’m pretty good at card games in general.
If it’s ‘Go-Fish’ or something, I’d definitely have a chance.
If Maveth’s referring to a game of Russian roulette with me as the target then the answer would be ‘no’ to both those queries.
I’m not delusional enough to believe that I can out-fight someone who’s been trained in combat for most of his life.
Assuming the game is UNO or ‘Go-Fish’ is wishful thinking. I don’t get the vibe that Maveth is a card playing kind of guy
The assassin is waiting for my answer, his expression fierce. Poking fun at his wounds was a seriously bad idea.
Now Maveth wants to see me suffer. Slowly. He steps forward and I cower.
Come on, Kendall. Think. What’s the likelihood of someone hearing me if I scream?
Unfortunately, I doubt that Maveth will allow me to yell my head off for long.
Screaming is probably the one option that will lead to certain death. The assassin could have a knife in my throat by the time I open my mouth.
I’m all out of bright ideas.
“Um,” I raise my hands like a student in a classroom, “you’re not talking about UNO by chance?”
Maveth slips his hands into his coat and extracts a dagger, positioning himself between me and the nearest exit.
“I really wish Thanathus could be here to see this.”
He crouches, as if he’s ready to engage in a real fight with a real assassin.
Yup, I’m gonna die.
I grab a pillow from the nearby settee as protection. Maveth trails my move with his dark eyes.
When the assassin realizes what I’ve chosen as my defense, he begins to laugh. The sound reminds me of that night when he faked his own death.
I didn’t like the ugly cackles then either.
But what do I know? If the roles had been reversed maybe I’d be laughing too.
There is absolutely no way I’m walking out of here alive.
Even if I hadn’t been spending most of my twenties eating Oreos and running from exercise, I could never beat an assassin in a fight.
To make matters worse, I have a dislocated shoulder and no weapon.
It sucks that I’ll die a virgin though. At least I got a kiss from Alistair, though his decision to tie me up for stealing his knife kind of taints the moment…
Wait… the knife. I have Alistair’s dagger!
The random thought is my first spark of hope.
Alistair didn’t take the weapon back when he tied me up. I sneakily run my hands down the waist of my back pocket. I feel the slight bulge.
Alright. Great, I have a knife. Now what do I do with it?
“Vivere gladio, Kendall.”
I tilt my head in confusion. Why is he quoting that? Are we talking now?
The assassin charges. Things become strikingly clear as he chases me down.
a. Maveth wants to fight.
b. I’m definitely going to lose.
Time’s up. Whatever plan is clinking around my head needs to be executed now.
The bad news is... I don’t really have one.
I panic and use my left hand to pry the knife from my back pocket.
Maveth extends his dagger and lunges toward me before I can free it from the fabric of my jeans.
The sharp edge of his dagger looks mighty painful. I realize in that moment, that I really do not want to die.
So I do the only thing that I can while fumbling for a good grip on the knife.
I toss the pillow at him.
Maveth’s already in motion so when the soft cushion hits him in the face, it doesn’t slow down his momentum.
It simply knocks him off balance.
The knife pulls free just as the large assassin comes barreling down at me with his knife extended.
I step to the side so that the point of the dagger doesn’t strike, but it’s too late.
Maveth’s weight slams into me. I fall backward as agony slices through my entire body.
The wave of pain is so consuming I know with all certainty that I’m seconds away from death.
My last thought is of my parents.
I hope they don’t fight at my funeral.
It’s the only sentiment I express before my world is eaten up by darkness.
Chapter 4
Alistair
I throw the door to the suite open. The silence is telling. Something terrible happened here.
My heart thunders in my chest. I have to get to Kendall.
My eyes sweep the room. Everything is as Damien and I left it. My gaze falls on the connecting door between our suite and Kendall’s.
The entrance is open. I freeze, staring at the door as the sinking feeling intensifies.
The door was locked when we left. I’m almost certain.
Slowing down my breathing, I listen for any signs of life.
The only sound that reaches my ears is the tinny exclamations of the characters on the television.
I sorely regret leaving that channel on now.
The hilt of my dagger rests in my palm.
I step lightly, praying that my gut feeling is wrong, that Kendall is in the chair with the ropes around her, that she yells and glares at me when I enter.
That she’s alive.
I pass through the door, hoping she’s there, but the chair is empty. I spring into action, rushing to check the other side of the room.
I near
ly stumble upon a dark figure on the ground.
The body is wearing the traditional robes of the league. His face is downturned, so I can’t pinpoint his identity.
Whoever he is, if he’s responsible for Kendall’s disappearance, I’ll…
“Oooh,” someone groans.
I stoop down and roughly grip the man’s shoulder, turning him on his side.
When he rolls over, I recognize him in the space of a second.
Maveth?
The assassin’s eyes are closed, his face fixed in a fierce scowl.
Red fluid flows like a river from below the knife stuck in his chest. The iron stench of his blood fills my nostrils and taints my fingertips.
The moan sounds again and I glance from Maveth to the woman beneath him.
My heart stops. Kendall lies on the ground.
She’s in the white dress from this afternoon, but the pretty fabric is now red with blood.
Her curly hair splays out beneath her, soaking in the red flood. Her eyes are closed and her shoulder is red and swollen.
“Kendall!” I panic, shoving Maveth completely off her.
She doesn’t make a sound as I cradle her in my lap. If the blood is hers, then I have to get her to an emergency room.
The questions and the prying eyes mean nothing in comparison to her safety.
I can barely breathe as I sweep my hands over her, but as far as I can tell, Kendall is unharmed.
“Oooh,” she moans again.
“Kendall!”
I lightly slap her cheek.
The relief coursing through my veins is unbelievably strong when she opens her eyes.
I can stare at those big brown eyes for the rest of my life and never get enough.
“Alistair?” she whispers. “Did you die and go to heaven too?”
Her words are so authentically Kendall that I smile despite the gravity of what has transpired here.
“No, honey,” I brush her hair away from her face. “This isn’t heaven.”
As if suddenly registering my words, Kendall shoots up. Her face twists in a grimace of pain and her gaze darts around the room.
I rise to my knees. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she presses a hand against her stomach and stares in astonishment at the blood. “Where did this come from?”
Now that I know she’s okay, I turn my attention away from Kendall to Maveth. The man hasn’t moved an inch since I entered.
This time, I am not fooled. Quickly, I use the severed ropes to bind him to the table and then I check his pulse.
There’s a faint fluttering there, but he’s lost a lot of blood. I doubt that he will survive.
My eyes stop at the hilt sticking out of his chest.
It’s one of my own knives. But how did it get there?
“Oh no. Oh no,” Kendall staggers backward.
I abandon my post by Maveth’s body and catch her as she falls.
“Kendall, you have to calm down.”
“No, no, no.”
I want to restrain Maveth properly.
I want to finish him off for laying a hand on this woman, but there are more important things to tend to.
Kendall is beginning to shake. Her body stiffens and her face pales. Her sweet eyes lock onto Maveth’s still form.
I check her pulse. It’s dangerously slow. I recognize the signs. Kendall is going into shock.
“Kendall, you need to look at me!”
She ignores my words and continues to stare at the pool of blood around the body.
“Kendall! You need to breathe. Look at me and breathe!”
I check her pulse again. My frantic instructions are falling on deaf ears.
Without a second thought, I scoop her into my arms and carry her away from Maveth’s body.
I deposit her in the shower and turn the faucet to the warmest setting.
The water spurts to life and rushes over the both of us. I continue to hold her close as the rain gently splatters against her dark hair and rushes down her brown cheeks.
“Kendall, breathe with me. You have to breathe.”
Her eyes clear and she focuses on me.
“Good,” I encourage. “That’s good, honey.”
“Alistair?” she chokes.
“I’m here.”
She glances down, taking in the sight of our bloodied clothing. Her gaze continues lower, to the tiled floor of the shower stall.
The water at my feet is red as it swirls down the drain.
“Is he dead?”
I know immediately whom she is referring to.
“Kendall, just focus on breathing with me. Okay?”
“Please,” she croaks, her eyes filling with tears, “please tell me the truth.”
This isn’t the time to discuss what happened. Kendall is a few seconds away from breaking down completely.
She comes first. She will always come first. Discussing what transpired in this hotel room tonight can wait.
“Come here,” I tuck her head into the crook of my shoulder.
Kendall nuzzles my neck with her nose and begins to cry. My heart rips in two.
This is my fault. If I hadn’t tied her up, if I hadn’t left, I would have been there to protect her. I could have stopped Maveth from hurting her.
The water continues to flow as Kendall cries. I hold her close, pushing the what-if’s to the side.
Focusing on my own guilt will not help the woman in my arms.
I hold her tightly, allowing her to weep on my shoulder until the water below us is no longer red.
“I’m okay now,” Kendall leans back.
“Are you sure?” I ask, refusing to let go of her.
I could have lost her tonight. Having her close to me puts me at ease.
But Kendall seems ready for some space, so I stuff my own needs aside and set her down.
I twist the faucet off. “We don’t have to go back in there if you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” she brushes away a stray tear.
I dip my head in respect of her wishes. She’s safe. No matter what has happened, this is all that matters to me.
Chapter 5
Kendall
I clutch the towel around my chest. The pain in my shoulder is gone. I think Maveth snapped it back into place when he fell on me.
Alistair is here. I’m glad he made it out of the fortress alive.
I want to tell him that I appreciate his presence, but I can’t. I’m wracking my brain, trying to piece together what happened only a few minutes ago.
“You don’t have to do this,” Alistair says.
I glance at him.
He’s wearing the white polo and black pants from this afternoon. His hair is a darker shade of brown than usual and sticks to his head in wet clumps.
His brown eyes are intense on mine. I can feel his concern like a physical presence.
I don’t know how to calm him.
I only know that I woke up in a pool of blood that did not belong to me.
I only know that Maveth was not moving.
I only know that a dagger was embedded in his chest. That I put the dagger there.
These facts consume me. They rob me of the ability to think.
The only image parading through my mind is of the large assassin, face first on the ground, in his own sea of blood.
Did I kill Maveth?
The answer is either a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. There is no in between.
“Open the door.” I instruct.
I have to know.
Alistair pushes the handle in and lets me past. The sight is gruesome.
My shoes squish as I walk. Alistair keeps me away from the perimeters of the blood on the floor. The red sea is spreading like wildfire.
I hold my hand to my mouth as tears crop up in my eyes.
A part of me was hoping that Maveth would have disappeared like the last time.
At least then I could rest in the knowledge that I didn’t kill him.
But he’s there, lying on the floor. So still.
“I’m sorry, Kendall. I need to check him over, but with this much blood…”
“Whoa,” a new voice interrupts Alistair’s grave forecast.
Damien stands in the doorway. His eyes search mine before they dip to the floor.
I know the exact moment that Damien recognizes the face frozen in anger.
“Damien,” Alistair helps me away from the body and leads me toward the doors connecting the suites. “I need you to take her outside.”
“Of course,” Damien grasps my fingers.
I feel cold all over, even though the shower Alistair and I took was warm.
Maveth is dead.
I can hear it in the words that the men refuse to say. I killed him.
I’m a murderer.
Taking a life is a little different than I’d expected it to be. Right now, I don’t feel angry. I don’t feel sad.
I just feel… numb.
I still can’t believe it. Any minute, I expect Maveth to rise up and start flinging knives.
I wish he would.
“Kendall, just be still. Okay?” Damien pulls me in for a hug.
I stay in his embrace, hearing Alistair’s instructions to breathe.
Inhale. Exhale.
If simply breathing in and out is supposed to be some magic elixir, I doubt it’s working.
Panic climbs up my throat and makes it difficult to even pull in drags of air.
This is a nightmare. It has to be.
Any minute now, I’ll wake up in my bed in Belize.
I’ll turn on my side and check my phone for messages.
I’ll close my eyes and try to catch a few more winks before I force myself out of bed.
The front door opens suddenly breaking my dream apart.
“I checked the parameter,” a woman strides confidently in. “I saw no signs of …”
Her voice trails when she sees me.
The woman’s presence is so out of the ordinary that I lean away from Damien to inspect her in the same unabashed manner that she is staring at me.
I guess from the set of her face that she’s about Damien’s age.
Her hair is a strange golden brown that rests just above her shoulders. Her eyes are sharp and intelligent.
She looks ‘mixed’. In Belize, we would call her red-skinned.
The girl’s tone isn’t as dark as mine, but I can tell that she has some African in her.
