My demons (book 1)

The kill

Claire didn't particularly like her job as an assassin. Killing people wasn't the favourite thing to add on her to-do list, but a girl has to do what she has to do in order to survive. And this job guaranteed her more than just survival. It taught her an important skill. And in 140 years of doing the job, she got the best in it. It was finally time to use her talent again. New target was waiting to be executed. And this time, it was personal.

Each step left a fresh, crisp footprint in the snow. It was as if she was the only soul to have ever walked there, yet the tracks of a stray deer proved otherwise. Beautiful scenery, indeed, but she had no time to admire the place her uncle lived in. She could already see the cabin rising from the ground, looking as if it had been standing there since the beginning of time.

She checked her weapon again. The gun was perfect for despatching him for good; small, discreet, deadly. At first the metal was cold in her hand, icy perhaps, yet after just one block with her hand wrapped around it the metal was ambient, feeling more like a part of her than a tool of death. She smiled and tucked it back inside of her leather jacket. It was time.

Her knocks on her uncles' front door echoed around the forest as she patiently waited for him to open the door and invite her in. "Hello, uncle," she bit out coldly as she looked at her relative who had been "dead" for the past century. "You are not so easy to fool, young lady," he muttered, obviously stunned by his niece standing in front of him. "Yet you let me live in peace for an entire century," he turned to go back inside, indicating for her to do the same. Perfect.

He hadn't changed much since the day she last saw him. It was long after they'd discovered his dark ways and he had already been living in the exact same cabin with her young brother. He had had the same, dull grey eyes and overgrown beard which he had never bothered taking care off as he had now.

"Lucius seemed to think you committed suicide. Never said I didn't believe him. But the pile of bodies... my family might be oblivious, but I'm not. I know your ways. But that's not really important, is it? What I'm curious about is how you kept hidden for a century? I'm sure you didn't stop killing for that long."

"Backyard is a great place to burry bodies, but there is only so much space," he chuckled, facing Claire again. Her gun was already prepared and she fired one fatal shot, sending a bullet into her uncle.

He fell without even a cry, never aware of his own end. She leaned down to look at his dead corpse. The entry wound was dead centre to his neck, perfection if you considered that sort of thing- professional hit, no doubt.

"Looks like you won't be killing anyone any time soon," she whispered before standing up and walking out of the cabin.

The forest was peaceful and quiet again, as if nothing had happened.