Moriarty's Musician

The Stand, Part 3

Annabelle gazed out at the landscape as she leaned against the balcony of Appledore. And as the sun set over the horizon, she finally felt like she could breathe again. She loved the countryside. It was quiet and so much more peaceful than the chaos of London.

Since meeting Lady Smallwood, her life was a constant rush of things to do. And as the sole heir of Charles Magnussen's vast empire, the pressure to perform was overwhelming.

Annabelle sighed as she gazed out over her estate. She had played the part, stayed in London for an entire year, and done all she could to prove she was nothing like her father. Even Lady Smallwood was surprised at how well she managed the role.

Everything in her life was just as it should be.

She glanced up at a familiar sound and watched the tight V-formation of geese that soared above her head. Was it so long ago when she wished she was one of those birds? She shook her head and sighed. Now that she had her freedom, she felt even more alone than ever before.

Annabelle gripped her shawl at her neck as the wind lifted her hair and made it swirl around her head. It had been over a year since the events at the little Irish cottage. Over a year since she had escaped the coma. Over a year since Moriarty had been released from Sherrinford prison.

She rested her scarred hand on the balcony rail. Why hadn't Moriarty come to get her? Not a phone call, not a text, not even a scribbled letter from him. Nothing.

Her mouth set in a frown. She had to stop caring. Moriarty had moved on, and she needed to do the same.

"You're still so perfect, aren't you?"

A sudden coldness hit her to the core, and as she swung around, Annabelle's heart hammered in her chest. "Who's there?" she called, but it was a question she already knew the answer to as her worst nightmare sauntered out of the shadows.

"I bet you never expected to see me again," Soo-Ling said, bitterness straining her voice as she trained her gun on Annabelle. "That's your problem, little princess. Unlike me, you don't plan ahead."

Annabelle tried to stop herself from shaking. "Get the hell out of my house, you bitch."

Soo-Ling paused for a moment, then a smile creased her face as she came closer. "Is it really you in there, little princess? You've gotten plucky with your new fortune. Or are you just stupid? It's not a good idea to piss off someone who hates you."

Soo-Ling walked up to Annabelle and smoothed the sides of her gun over Annabelle's cheeks. "I'm going to shoot your pretty face so he'll have to cremate you. No one will want to see your open casket, especially not him."

Annabelle didn't look away. "What happened to your ponytail, Soo-Ling?"

The former assassin ran a hand over her brush-cut hair, and growling, she jammed the end of the gun into Annabelle's ribs.

"He's looking for me," Soo-Ling said. "He'll find me eventually. But this time, I'm going to smash his little trinket before he does." Soo-Ling stared into Annabelle's eyes. "I hate him, but I despise you more."

Soo-Ling grasped a length of Annabelle's hair and rubbed it between her fingers. "You don't deserve this." She motioned her head. "You don't deserve any of it. I was supposed to be his favorite, not some ugly English crumpet. I'll never understand what he sees in you, but since you're the only one he wants..."

Annabelle laughed.

"What's so funny?" Soo-Ling said, her brow furrowing.

"You are. I haven't seen James in over a year. Obviously, he doesn't want me."