Knife & Shield

Red-Headed Devil

Thin lips licked the lukewarm blood dribbling off the Rapier's silver tip; slanted green eyes glared up at the victim's pale, sunken face. "H-Have pity," the corpse rasped, reaching out to grasp the edges of an assassin's black cloak.

Secian slapped the man's withering hand back, withdrawing the hilt of his sword and sheathing the skull studded blade in the scabbard attached his hip. "Pity?" What room was there for pity? "Someone has paid me for your death."

Secian tried not to grin, watching the corpse think back to who hated him; to who would be so cruel as to pay for his own slow and painful death. He knew the man wouldn't even be able to finish his thoughts, before crumpling into a pile of bones at his feet.

"Clean up then," Secian hummed. He wrapped up the corpse and carried it to the basement. He threw it into a chest, just as planned, and left a note for the housekeeper with his infamous signature.

"What a full evening." Secian sighed and pulled the black cotton hood over his face, walking into the sunlight; which he despised and shriveled back from, into the shadows of passing buildings, like a ghost. His scruffy black hair blended in with his coat, green cat-like eyes kept peeled for on-lookers as he ascended the rooftops.

This is his favorite part- collecting cash from the devil himself. He would be paid handsomely for this one. Killing a noble was no simple task, unless of course this particular noble was unmarried, and alone- but he wouldn't tell his employer that. Ha! No way he was going to get swindled out of his cash.

Every coin came out of spilt blood. It was precious. Worth more than a hundred lives. And he would know...

~

Zhara watched from a safe distance as the assassin climbed the rooftops. She frowned, biting the end of her dried lips. She wondered, for such a fearsome reputation, why he dared be so bold and indiscreet; murdering a noble in broad daylight.

Granted, no one liked Duke Endelle. That was still no excuse for him to be sloppy. Ugh! Zhara fumed. "Who does he think he's dealing with?" She whispered harshly to her idle second in command, Callum.

Callum scratched the back of his head. His white Eönian crest shone brightly across his uniformed chest. White clothes against tanned skin, a dark blue cape brushing up against his golden blonde curls. "Should we follow him?" Callum spoke quietly, patiently...awaiting an order.

Zhara brushed back her straight red hair, narrowing her eyes on the target. "We'll follow him...just a bit longer, and I'm sure he'll lead us to his next target."

She knew the assassin's target. Callum knew it as well, though he pretended not to know. It was Crown Prince Hollis; Zhara's older brother who used her like a chess piece.

Loathsome.

That wasn't even a good enough word to describe what she felt for that stuck up Prince, soon to be King. He was twenty-four, hardly old enough to be a good ruler in her opinion. Plus, he was five years older than herself, yet no one could tell the difference in maturity.

Zhara pulled her cloak tightly over her white porcelain face, proceeding to scale the rooftops. Callum followed closely behind her, like a loyal dog.

The window shudders to Duke Endelle's room were wide open, slamming against the walls every time the wind blew. She peered in and his body was no where to be seen, but Zhara could guess where it was hidden. She knew all this assassin's tactics, and his tricks of the trade. For two years, she'd been tracking him, and his victims. Part of her knew he'd been letting her. But all that was about to change.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Zhara pushed forward. She and Callum traced the assassin as far as Eönai, the Capitol Kingdom; the jewel of six great provinces. There, she stopped before dark.

Callum bought two rooms at an inn. The two didn't exchange good nights or anything of the sort. Zhara knew from over the years, if she needed anything at all from him, all she'd have to do is scream.

She left her window open, leaning out to inhale all the scents of Eönai. Mutton, sulfur, spice, is what the air smelt like. But she doubted that it reeked like this in other places.

Places such as prison, where she'd end up if she went through with her plans. Plans to kill the Crown Prince herself. His own knife and shield turned against him. Ha! What a keen plotter she was. Right stupid, is more like it.

With a deep sigh, Zhara laid on top of her covers with an arm placed over her head. She closed her eyes and let herself dream. The creaking of her window, swinging wide to reveal a shadowy face hovering above her, was ignored.

~

Secian leaned over the red-headed Knight, a slight smirk on his face. He could kill her right now...but his hand withdrew from his rapier; the same rapier that killed his first victim at age eight, the same one that murdered his first noble at twelve. "Stupid girl," he grumbled to himself. What would he do with her now?

If she kept following him, great! He could use her to kill the Crown Prince. Course, she'd be thrashing in resistance. Her type are all the same. They whine and complain, but never take action...like loyal dogs.

He swiftly took off his cape, prepared to drape it over her face. Kidnaping her was his safest bet, to take her with him as a prize; human insurance.

He froze, hands in mid-air as her eyes flashed open. She opened her mouth- and for some reason, he let her speak.

"I've been waiting for you."

That's when he realized her eyes were the same as his. Dulled of their once vibrant color, presently coated in red.

She had blood on her hands, the same color as her hair. The thought made him curious. Intrigued. Perhaps this would be easier than he thought.

So he took hers in his, and without a word, disappeared into the spice flavored winds.

He had no idea....
What she was capable of.

He had seen many Devils in his lifetime.
But none of them..had ever looked so similar to an angel before.