The Beast Within

Preface

The leather ripped easily under the pressure as the sword plunged through it. Blood - dark and crimson - burst from the hole that the blade left behind, streaking down the fabric in a darkened red waterfall.

The man looked at me, mercy begging in his eyes. "Please... spare my life... I-I have a wife and children... they need me!" He was clutching his chest desperately, covering the tear in the thick leather armor. Despite his efforts, blood oozed from the cracks between his fingers, blackening his hand in the sticky liquid.

I shook my head. It was against the Code to show mercy to the enemy - no matter how much they begged, no matter how many promises were made - and the punishment for breaking the Code was death. "I am sorry, but I have to." Even through my words held an apology, they showed no emotion. I raised my sword again, leveling it with his breastplate. Off in the distance I could hear the soft clicking of boots against the stone flooring. Someone was approaching and fast.

"Marcie..." he whispered.

I snapped my attention back to him. "What?"

"Marcie..." the man's lips curved into an unusual smile. "Thank the gods, I have been saved."

"What are you talking about?" I demanded. By that time I had moved behind him and the silver blade of my sword was now pressed against his throat.

"Not what," the man grinned, ignoring the deadly weapon against his throat. "Who."

"Tell me who," I growled impatiently, pressing my sword closer to his throat. The sharp blade cut through the fragile skin slightly, drawing blood. The dark scarlet liquid trickled down the blade, dripping down in tear-shaped droplets, staining the royal blue carpet beneath.

The man coughed, gargling on the liquid. I wondered if I cut deep enough for it to seep into his lungs. "Y-You will find out soon enough."

In a fit of blind rage, I slit the man's throat completely and let him slump to the floor. On the list of things I hated, stalling was at the near top. This Mary, or Minnie, or whatever her name was didn't sound like much of a threat at all. The man was probably just trying to draw out the time between life and death. It happened with victims all the time. When death knocked at their door they came up with every excuse under the sun not to face it.

Even as I told myself that, my skin prickled. I couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness. My task was complete, right? I was hired to slip into the palace and assassinate the general of the army to defile the king's plans. That was my contractor's orders. I could get out of the palace now, get far away.

I could still hear the soft clicking as the footsteps approached faster and faster, growing closer and closer. My heart thudded with every click of the boots against the stone floor. I shook my head. I was a highly trained killer, taught to never give in to that one inner weakness, so why was I feeling it at that moment.

"Hello assassin," the voice ran through my body, chilling it to the bone. It was too late to run now. I slowly turned around to face my new threat, taken back by surprise. It was a young girl - no older than twelve - wearing a silky white dress that fluttered around her ankles. She had platinum blond hair tied back into a ponytail and bright, vibrant green eyes. And of course there was the boots - brown in color and spotless of dirt.

"Who are you?" I asked, sheathing my sword in its black, amethyst encrusted scabbard.

"I am Marcie," the girl chimed with a smile. Her eyes then laid on the man's limp body and the smile quickly faded away into a frown. "I see I've come too late, it seems. Wasn't quick enough to save this poor soul."