The Assassins Guild

Prologue

Two years ago

I looked into his black eyes. People said eyes are the windows to the soul. That's what they say, isn't it? His...his were black. Dark and emotionless. Death and shadows brightened his pupils like black rivers of emptiness. His touch was cold, ice cold. I've heard he killed people for fun, that death was his constant companion and that he couldn't understand the difference between Heaven or Hell. People said there were voices in his head. People said he would be our next King. People said a bunch of shit, because I knew him better than I knew myself. I knew he will kill me and finally set me free. I've asked him for it. I've asked him for a way out.

"Choose," he said in that tone of voice that cut more than daggers. He was ordering me to choose life or death, as if he already didn't know my answer. He sounded detached and distant. There was an inherent darkness inside of him. An overabundance of frightening power that always differentiated him from the rest. When he spoke, people listened. When he killed, he did it beautifully. I would have never found a better way out from this life than by the mercy of his blade.

"Kill me," I asked him. I begged him with my eyes to finish me. I hadn't been made to live in this world. I wasn't one of them and he knew it. He looked down at me, his black eyes focused on my neck. One of his big, cold hands closed around it. This was it. He could kill me with a simple twist of his fingers. One second and I would be finally gone from this shitty, fucked up world. He dragged my body closer to him, until I was shadowed by his tall frame. He didn't smell like a boy. He smelt like the forest around us. Like wood and stone, moss and smoke. We have been taught to never make our presence known. To blend in with our environment. I've never managed to blend in, but he...he became whoever and whatever he needed to be in order to kill.

He pushed my ear directly under his mouth and whispered something. People around us frowned, trying to understand what he was saying. I felt my own eyes open in horror at his words, before the blade he kept concealed flashed under the light of the moon. One cut and I screamed. Blood oozed from the wound like a crimson sea. I fell on my side, holding to my chest my wounded hand while I looked in shock at my pinky finger laying on the dirt.

When I blinked he was gone, leaving me alone with a life I didn't want to live.

Chapter 1

Present day

"Nine! What brings you to the Royale?" Asked me Fat Lou the moment I sat at the bar. I shrugged, ignoring the hungry eyes of the men looking at me. Instead I fixed my grey eyes on Fat Lou. I've always wondered how the fuck Fat Lou could make himself be listened over the music blasting through the speakers of the club. Somehow, someway, he made it work, but I wasn't in a conversational mood. Scratch that, I was never in a conversational mood. He smiled at me, moving awkwardly behind the bar while his big belly bounced over his belt with every step he took. Fat Lou had always been fat, a fact he was very proud of. The fucker could kill using his bare hands and the weight of his body. I've heard he liked asphyxiating his victims under his body, like a damn Sumo player. He stopped right in front of me and served me my poison of choice. Two fingers of Vodka and nothing else. My Russian heritage couldn't be more evident if I tried. "I've heard the King is looking for you."

"He is now?" I asked, taking a sip from my drink. Fat Lou lifted an eyebrow, looking at me as if I ought to know better. I did know. The reason why people called me Nine was because of my nine fingers. A souvenir from our mighty King. The same one who had been apparently looking for me. I wasn't trying to avoid him. He knew where to find me, but we both knew he liked playing games with me. I pushed the thoughts about him to the back of my mind and focused on what have brought me to the Royale.