Shadowwalker - Under Review For Now

9. Interrogation

"You,"  the assassin spat at her.

"Me," Amber replied mockingly.

She was constantly moving, rolling from her heels to the balls of her feet and back- almost child like. He would have found it adorable if it wasn't so terrifying. He silently questioned her sanity.

And mentally shrugged. 

Anyone even vaguely involved with his line of worked either had nerves of steal, or missed several marbles. In any case, wondering about things he wouldn't be able to figure out was a waste of his time which, evidently, seemed to be running out.

"Who,"  he demanded, "are you?"

Amber slowly drew a knife from out of her left boot, which zinged as it was released from it's cover, and pretended to study the blade.

"Interesting," she said as she fingered its sharp edge. "You'd almost think you were the one in charge."

Amber tossed the knife into the air, and caught it, seemingly effortless. Secretly she was extremely proud that she had nailed juggling with knives in her free time, but she'd never admit that to him. But to her surprise, his eyes did not widen at her theatrics, he kept his face cool. Underneath his calm exterior, however, his heart was racing. He was so not trained for this type of work. Confrontation? Not his thing at all.

He eventually decided to ignore her, and looked around the room once more. 

He noted the low ceiling, several unlit oil lamps, incense, and the fact that the place was teeming with silk scarves, he himself being bound to the chair with some particularly nice ones, two of which blue, a red one and a creme one with with strange writing on it in black. Or was it brown?

He froze as he felt the cold kiss of what was presumably steel against his throat which forced his head slightly up. 

Electric blue eyes met stunning green.

"You wouldn't," he bluffed.

She flicked the blade, creating a miniature cut on his ear. He stiffened, a small trickle of blood running down his throat, and was then forced to look into her eyes once more. They were mesmerizing, he realized he did not want to look away. Those bright green orbs were hypnotising him, he realised, and he couldn't do anything about it.
He wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I'll give you another chance," Amber murmured. "What. Is. Your. Name."

A pause.

The blade increased it's pressure, drawing a thin line of red as bloos welled up on his throat, his collar slowly but surely being dyed a shade of rusted red.

The eyes seem to increase their intensity as well, burning holes into his as he could almost feel her invading his soul.

Then, finally, he cracked.
"Venarius..."

His voice was low and slightly husky, his tone dejected.

"Chosen, or given name?"

"Chosen."

Amber snorted. The blade moved away just the smallest of fractions.
He drew a shaky breath as he struggled to stay calm and not loose his cool, assuming he hadn't already.

"Of course it is. And your given name?"

Hesitation. The blade moved, and this time it created a tiny nick on his cheek before moving back to his throat. He flinched at the pain before answering.

"Nequitios."

"So you are Trickery, nice name. Who did you poison?"

He stilled. His breathing quietened, and she saw him retreat into himself.

Growling softly, she repeated herself: "I asked you a question."

Her eyes pulled him in, urging him to tell her the truth. Green eyes flashed violet, and he drew a sharp breath at the sight. He lost his grip on himself, and blurted out: "I- I don't know. I was given a description, and a location from an anonymous client."

Amber narrowed her eyes, and studied his face. It felt as though she was searching his soul, trying to determine whether he was lying or not. He may also have been telling her just a small portion of the truth. She couldn't be sure....

After several tense moments, she dropped the knife from his throat, and wiped the blood off it before placing it back into it's slot. Nequitios sighed with relief, his shoulders sagging and his head drooping, the very picture of a broken man.

He yawned, and Amber flopped onto the chair facing his, her limbs sprawled in an unladylike manner.

"Ugh. What am I to do with you," she half mumbled under her breath.

"Release me?" he replied softly, knowing his request was unlikely to be granted yet trying all the same.

Amber scoffed. "In your dreams."

"What would you know about my dreams? Maybe I love dreaming about a feisty, mysterious silver-haired lass tying me to a chair and playing with knives before me. Although it would probably involve a lot less clothes..."

She slapped him, leaving a bright red handprint on his cheek, but then she laughed.
Running her fingers through the tangled mess she called 'hair', Amber informed him: "I'll decide what to do with you in the morning. Sleep tight."

She winked, and got up from the chair.

"Y-you can't leave me here all night!" he spluttered. "That's kidnapping! Besides, I don't even know your name."

"Oh, I can. and I will," she told him- closing the door. But just before she closed it, Amber hesitated, and opened it another inch. "My given name I shan't reveal to you- but you may have heard of me under my other name. I'm generally known as Raven."

His face paled, and she grinned.

Once she had finally shut the door, the exhaustion suddenly hit her like a tropical storm.

She leaned against the closed entry, and then slid to the floor, dreading the dreams that would surely haunt her that night.

She folded her arms around legs and rested her head on her knees.

She drew several slow, deep breaths, calming her racing heart.

Interrogating the stranger had terrified her more than he knew.
It was something she rarely did, and hated doing. It was something Amber usually let Raven take over for, but this time she couldn't, the risk of him, or anyone else, seeing her as other was too great.

She took several more moments there, until her eyelids started to droop...