Part One
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The knock on his door came as Castian sliced off the last of his cast. It fell away onto the bed and he scratched his arm. Ah, baby that felt good, it had been itching for at least a week.
Dropping the switchblade onto the mattress, he stood. Castian crossed to the door as they began to knock again.
"Taren, I swea--" Castian's words ground to a halt as he met Taff's dark gaze.
Swallowing, he stepped back, letting the older man slip into the room. Taff looked to be in his early twenties, which was odd, since he'd looked like that from the moment Castian had first seen him appear out of the swirling smoke. It was just one of those things you learned not to question though. Actually, everything about Taff was.
He brushed his black hair back from his face, glancing about the room. There were a few dirty clothes stuffed to one side of the bed, a comb on the nightstand, an empty glass, and the bed was a rumpled mess. Other than that, the room was spotless. Still, his nose wrinkled slightly, as if there were a smell. Which there wasn't thank you very much.
"There's a client downstairs in the lounge." Taff's eyes slid over the red marks on his arm from where the cast had been, then across to his leg. Castian should have remembered to not be putting weight on it when he opened the door. Well, it was too late now. "How's the leg?" Taff added, a clear after thought.
"Almost healed." It had been four weeks, that was long enough to say that, right?
"And the wrist?"
"Manageable."
"Good." He turned towards the door again. "Brush your hair and put on something..." he looked back at Castian, "decent. Do you have a suit?"
Not one that would fit. Castian couldn't remember the last time he'd worn the thing. "I'll find something," he replied, watching Taff go with a frown. It wasn't unusual for him to come and get one of them himself. Taff liked to poke about their space. Or at least, that was Castian's opinion. What was unusual, was the command to make himself presentable.
"Make sure you do." The door shut with a soft click behind him.
Castian stared at it for a long moment. A suit? He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he went to look through his closet.
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So, that was a short part, sorrrry. It was the one and only natural break in the chapter though, so it just kinda had to be there.
If you enjoyed it, please consider giving me a vote. They make authors feel great. And, of course, always shoot me comments if you like! I always try to get back to you.
And lastly, thank you to all my continual readers, y'all are awesome.
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An Assassin In Time
Science Fiction(ON HOLD) If time couldn't hold you, what would you do? Castian was born inside a Field, outside of time. He has no timeline. He belongs nowhere, and anywhere. The Field he was in was destroyed when he was young, and he and four other children...
