ANDREW BLACK

Prologue

Red! Red! Red! My fingers flowed through them and my nails dug into it. The red warm against my skin, causing tingles at my fingertips and goosebumps to dance up my skin. Peeking through the red was green and a bit of brown. Silver glistened under the light of the pale moon, its smooth edges lined with the same red on my fingers and its handle covered in its splashes. I retracted my hand from the warmth, the red stained my fingers and some hid in the space between my nails and skin. By the red, frightened brown eyes tried to speak to me; but it must have been difficult to speak with a slit throat. By now you must know the red is blood and do not be mistaken I am no cold-blooded killer, everything happens for a reason.

He coughed more blood, the blood flowing from his throat down to the dying grass beneath him, his frightened eyes speaking to me but now I understood the message. How smart of him to know I was one to honor a dying man's last wish. Grabbing the dagger from his blood puddle I swiftly pressed it to his forehead. Judging from the surprised look in his eyes I fear I may have misinterpreted the message but it is too late for take-backs now. The dagger forcefully crushed the bones in his head before vigorously digging into the softer parts. His body twitched, he coughed up more blood, there may have been a 'thank you' in there. I was almost certain I heard it and like the respectful man I was brought up to be, I, of course, told him, he was welcome as his light brown eyes stilled and a stray tear rolled from his left eye, slowly till it fell into the puddle of blood. What an appreciative man he was, it breaks my heart to think he left this world much too early.

Sighing I lifted myself from the ground, careful not to step in his blood and pulled the dagger from his head-well at least what remained of it- I would not like to make a mess of things as I was not one to make a mockery of the dead, he deserved better and for being so appreciative I dragged his lifeless body to the nearest tree leaning his back against its wide moss-covered trunk. It was hard placing his head, it just kept tilting and slanting in odd manners that made me very angry  quickly, so I just yanked it off. 

Blood gushed from his neck. A red rain falling on the soil. It splashed across my face, some entering my mouth in the process. Salty as always, I noted as I spat it into the dirt. When the gushing had reduced to a few miserable drops spraying from his broken neck I placed his head previously held in my hands on his neatly folded palm on his laps and shut his eyes from the horrors of this world.

Marching off from him, I heard soft sounds. It did not sound like a person. I walked towards it, the dried grass crushing under the weight of my boots and the force of each stomp. There by the fallen carriage was a fallen horse, its left limb was swollen and dislocated. The poor creature looked up at me, its dark eyes boring into mine. Suffering was all over its features as a soft neigh escaped from its open mouth. Squatting by its side I brought my hand to its head, rubbing my hands vigorously on my clothes first to avoid contaminating the creature's skin with the bad blood on my palms. When I was certain my palms were clean enough, I gently rubbed its head. It leaned into my touch neighing again and when its eyes closed, I swiftly pulled out my dagger and ended its misery. It screamed out, its scream piercing through my heart as it attempted to release itself from my hold but all too soon it stopped fighting. Its body went limp like its master's and just like its master it too left this world.

A tear escaped my left eye  at the sad sight before me and more followed after. The life of man was always so fragile. Like glass, one mistake and it shattered. One simple mistake was all it took.

...

"Forgive me," he said rushing into my room his eyes panicked and wide, his fingers trembling as the knife fell to the floor, his face covered in dirt and blood. The smell of blood oozing off him and filling my nostrils. "Forgive me!" he cried out dropping to his knees, his hands covering his face as a sob escaped him. "I d- did no-not me-an to..."

...

My eyes opened to the darkness of my room, night was still here. I closed my eyes and I saw the same green eyes haunting my dreams, I opened them again to the darkness of my room. I did not have to feel my sheets to know they were soaked in sweat and I did not have to feel my face to know they were covered in tears. My hands were trembling I could feel them. They trembled just like his. I gritted my teeth as I held back a scream. He was a liar. A liar! He was never sorry, he never deserved forgiveness. He never deserved any of it.

Lifting my blankets off myself I slipped out of the bed. Pulling on my robe I walked to the balcony, pulling back the curtains I let the moonlight seep in. The dark was too dark for me. I couldn't stay in it anymore; too many shadows of my past lived in it. I opened the balcony door allowing the chills of the night to bite into my skin as I listened to the symphony of night crickets and toads. Even the owls accompanied them tonight. The moon sat largely in the vast sky looking down on me; I could almost see the pity on his face. I hated it. I hated the pity, everyone around me wore it like a second face. Why could they not forget as I had? It is what I told myself at least. That I had forgotten, I no longer lived in the memory, but I was a liar just like he was. We all were liars in this business, if we weren't, we would not be able to survive. Some lairs were just more talented than others.

I tore my eyes from the moon and its pity and as I turned I found my reflection in the mirror, the reflection of someone who deceived himself so much that even though he saw broken pieces of himself in that mirror he believed he was whole. The patched-up piece of myself in the mirror stared back at me, the light in his eyes missing and the dark circles of torment and sleeplessness under each eye was evident. His lips were pulled into a frown and his fingers still trembled. The image shook for a second and in that second I saw those pleading green eyes again and when my image returned the frown it wore was much larger.

Forgiveness maybe he deserved it. He was a lair, but we were the same, so why did I live and why did he die? "Why!" I screamed at my reflection in the mirror, "Why!" I screamed walking closer to it till it was just the glass that separated my reflection from me. "Why," I attempted to scream but it came out hoarse as I forced it out slapping my palm softly against the glass. My reflection simply mimicked me, agony in his features. My cheeks were stained with tears, but none flowed anymore. I never saw my tears, only their aftermath. My eyes became glassy, but the tears never came. For him, they had stopped flowing. They only came when he haunted my dreams. I closed my eyes allowing the memory to replay itself. I allowed myself to feel the hurt again, to re-live his sins so I may lift this guilt off my shoulders but this night the guilt refused to leave me, even as I opened my eyes I still saw the guilt like a snake winding itself around my neck slowly suffocating me till I was out of breath. Fighting for air I fell to the floor wheezing, my vision blurring as images and reality molded into one. Past and present clashed creating a mess in my head. I dragged my knees to my chest burying my head in them allowing the overwhelming feeling to drown me.

Morning came eventually, as I watched the moon fade from the sky and the sun replace it. It was day again and life continued. It all returned to normal in daylight, where I pretend the past never was and the future...well we never thought that far ahead. Many in this business barely made it past the present day, but those were the less skilled ones, others like myself lived long enough for our sins to torment us daily but we could not change who we were. Even if we wanted to, we'd be dead before the thought ever concurred in our minds. The slightest hesitation and you were gone with the passing breeze.

I dragged myself from the floor as I felt the chests of my past closing up and being stored again for the late hours of the night. I was going to kill again; my past only haunted me when I did. By the time I faced my reflection in the mirror it looked almost normal. The pain, the sadness vanished from its features, only the tiredness remained but that was normal given the work I did. I brought my palm to the mirror, my reflection doing the same. Our palms joined and if I wished hard enough I could almost feel the warmth of another flesh, and the eyes flicker to green. If only you were here but lying killed you and soon it would kill me as well.

I pulled on my clothes, my black pants, black silk shirt and the black coat on top and on my feet, were black boots meant for 'stomping the flies we were assigned to crush' as The Father had said. I walked towards the door, leaving my past behind. Without a second glance, I walked out of the room leaving the guilt as well. After all, it was not often that one's brother begged for death and one was commanded to oblige that request, a command he couldn't refuse.

The reason?

Oh no, it is much too early for you to know of the tale of Levison Dalte.