The Girl Called Red

Chapter 3.

Early morning chill lifted my hair as I stood with my hands in my pockets watching Luca's from across the street. 

Temple pounding, I squinted, watching as the small Italian family got up and began their morning routines. Before long, the smell of pastry filled my nose along with early morning coffee. I remained where I was as my stomach protested and my eyes burned from the pale morning light. 

Dominic's voice rung in my head. "Lidiya... We've known you for two and a half years and you never told us that Scarlet wasn't your actual name?!" I pulled my jacket tighter around me. It stank of blood. I stank of blood. Old blood from old wounds. 

I watched as Luca waddled up to the front door. I could see every line in his face as it folded down into disappointment. I visited once a week like clockwork – sometimes more – but I never missed a Monday morning with his family... Until today. 

Confusion folded down onto his face as his only still living son walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, his mouth moving. My eyes burned as I watched them until they finally both saw me. Staring like a predator. 

I lowered my eyes and a disobedient tear slipped out as my chest constricted and burned. My time in New York has reached its end. I should not have been so sloppy. As soon as I saw the Vasiliev's I should have packed up and ran, or demanded reassignment. I had been taught control. To not let my feelings control me. Feelings are a blunt weapon young one, they can be used to get the job done but they are not effective and there is never any real assurance of death.   

With a sigh I turned and walked away in the opposite direction of Luca's, shoving my shaking fists into my pockets. Do not get attached, young one, you are a weapon first and a person last.

"Weapon first. Person last." I repeated those words drilled into me long ago. Weapon first, person last... Always.

Anastasia met me outside of the office building in which our target lived. The burned coffee I had bought earlier laid abandoned in my left hand, slightly crumpled. She watched me for a tense moment.

"So..." Her fingers reached up to rub the back of her neck, shoulders hunched.

"Come." We turned and walked up the front steps of a large, older apartment complex. It was a startling difference to the shining building standing on the other side of the road. 

My mouth pursed, deciding, as I looked at all the names next to the buzzer. There was new, scribbled writing pushed into one of the slots.

M. Houser.

Well that is an odd name. I buzzed every button except theirs and waited. Only one person answered.

"Who is it?" The voice was male and I wracked through my brain quickly.

"Howdy there. Sorry to disturb ya, but see, my friend in 3C isn't answering, and I'd really like to get in." My voice expertly gained a practiced Southern accent, stolen off of an actual person I had come into contact with. There was a brief pause on the other side, Anastasia burning holes into my skull with eyes filled with half-horror.

"Yeah, sure thing." The front door buzzed and clicked before I pulled it open. I took the stairs at a brisk pace, Anastasia struggling to stay behind in her heeled ankle boots. A dull tap with every step echoing in the silence behind me.

"Hey! Wait up!" My steps did not slow as we rose. My companion breathless by the time we were halfway up. "Scarlet dammit!" I ignored her. She had to learn the first rule of working with me. 'Keep up and do not whine'. Followed closely by 'dress as if you need to run at any moment'.