Queen of the Living

Interlude

    Four dead bodies were laying in an empty hotel suite when a cell phone began to ring.  This suite is of note, of course, due to its missing wall and the fresh stains on the carpet where breakfast had been spilled mere hours before.  The cell phone continued to ring for a moment, but as most things, even that came to an end.

    Miles away, a youthful blonde was sitting outside of a café with an ear to her phone as the person she was trying to reach never picked up.  Anger flashed on her pretty face as she disconnected the call and dialed a new number.

    “Hello,” came a voice on the other end.

    “I want to talk to Nigel,” the blonde said.

    “Lyamine, my dear,” a new voice answered.

    “Nigel, I cannot reach my children who are here on a job for you, I know for a fact that Didier is dead, on this same job, and now the mercenary is back.”

    “Easy, love.  I know you must be angry and I am so sorry for your loss, but believe me, it's all over.”

    “That’s not good enough.  I’ve canceled my flight; stay where you are, I’m coming to see you.”  She hung up the phone, placed some money on the table, and walked off.

***

    Vermilion appeared next to the man in the grey suit.  He was seated on the couch in Nawal’s Washington D.C. apartment, watching the news on her television.  His forehead had grown wrinkles, and his hair began to show a bit of grey, not unlike his suit.  Vermilion’s face acknowledged the changes with sadness.

    “Ah, it is good to see you, Benebdjedet,” the man said in a tongue both ancient and obsolete.  “Tell me how it went.”

    “I led them to her, master,” Vermilion replied.

    “And?  Did she kill them?

    “She did.”

    “Good.  And the Condottiero, did he show?”

    “Yes.  But rest assured, Matthias is as sharp as ever.”

    “Thank you,” the man began.  “I think I’ll rest a bit, then.”

    “Yes, master,”  Vermillion replied before vanishing into thin air.