Harry Styles, a secret service agent working for British intelligence is tasked with finding the killer after a series of brutal but calculated murders across Europe. His mind is sharp, he's smart, arrogant and works with a precision that leaves no...
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For future reference: The sgian-dubh (skee-an-doo) is a small, single-edged knife worn as part of traditional Scottish clothing. It is tucked into the kilt hose (sock) on the dominant hand side, only the hilt remains visible while the blade is tucked away.
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Winter
The ballroom was heavy with the warmth of music and life, though I couldn't feel any of it.
From my place at the bar I watched the chandeliers dripping light onto the polished marble floors, glowing and reflecting off wine glasses and the silver buttons of the men's jacket. Life and laughter spilled through the room, the careless kind of laughter. The sound blended with the hum of violins and the clinking of heels across the floor as couples spun dancing. Silk dresses caught the glimmer of the light, it was like a sea of silk colours twirling ahead of me. Rich perfume lingered in the air, roses, amber, something musky. Something sweet enough that felt like it was suffocating me.
All the walls were lined with mirrors framed and gold ornate designs. They seemed to reflect the party and make it seem like it stretched on to eternity. And in those reflections, I watched strangers from all angles, people who would never know my name or care where I sat at the bar. Everyone's mouth seemed to have that tinge of red from their wine, lips that were spread into wide grins. Their throats were exposed when they tilted their heads back to laugh. There was a fire in the corner warming the room, though I couldn't feel the heat coming from it. Nothing seemed to warm me anymore.
I sat up on the bar still, feeling like an intruder that no one noticed. My glass was half empty and sat untouched before me, the liquid inside had long gone warm because I hadn't drunk. Not yet. I still felt a little on edge and I didn't want to feel dull, sloppy or slow in case the body was discovered and I had to run. I couldn't afford that right now.
But I wanted to drink until I could rid the numbness inside of me where feeling used to be.
Dinner had been served hours ago, it was some sort of roasted bird with herbs and rich sauce and mountains of bread that were still steaming from being freshly baked in the oven. I'd smelt it all while I was drifting through the corridors. I had been busy while everyone else ate. Slipping into shadows with a blade press to my palm, disappearing into the hallways where the music didn't reach. My appetite, what level was left of it, faded into nothing while I was in that silence. Hunger didn't matter. Food and pleasure didn't matter. I had a job to do and focused on nothing else. Even if the days of starvation had me tempted by the platters of food left out on the tables for everyone to eat.
