“Master of Ceremonies,” I say in disbelief, keeping the wobble out of my voice rather expertly, I must say. “Aconite,” he says with a pleased smile, “So glad you remember me. I definitely remember you,” he says with a knowing smile. Horrific images of mutilated bodies screaming and begging for their lives and the smell of blood and burning flesh comes flooding back as my mind replays the last Tournament I competed in. I push the memories back and focus on the here and now and the man in front of me. The Master of Ceremonies – since we don’t know his real name – is as deadly as he is charming. He’s 6’2” and appears to be in his thirties with short blonde combed-over hair with blonde highlights, golden glowing skin with a large jaw covered in dark blonde stubble that is starting to show signs of age. His eyes shine with mirth, but there is a danger in their depths that I have witnessed firsthand is far from idle. His eyes are like two deep blue warning signs flashing with the pain the
I slide into the passenger seat of the rental car, cradling my delicious goodies and shut the door. I open the bag of sugary sweet pâte de fruits and gleefully grab a piece from inside the bag, feeling like a child who has just been given the keys to Willy Wonka’s factory. I go to take a bite when I hear the sound of frustrated, heavy nose-breathing coming from my left and glance over at Silas, whose brows are dipped in a harsh V-shape as he glares out the windshield like he’s about to go to war with the protective glass screen of the car. “What’s your problem?” I ask. “You went out to get snacks? Seriously? We’re meant to be staking this booth out waiting for this alleged assassin to show up, and you tell me you need to go to the bathroom only to come back with French sweets,” he spits in annoyance. “What crawled up your ass?” I scoff as I take a bite of one of my sweets. “You go out and do something stupid by reaching out to The Tournament, and then you get kidnapped and dragged
I look up at the beautiful sand-coloured 5-story apartment building, the exterior lined with picturesque wrought iron balconies dripping on stone terraces, decorated with lush plants and just big enough to allow for a single person to step out and admire the view. I wish my apartment building looked as beautiful as this. “It’s beautiful,” Silas remarks with a warm smile. I nod in agreement, “I wish my apartment building was this lovely.” “I could never live in an apartment; I don't know how you do it.” “You live in a house?” I ask quizzically. “Family estate in Moldova.” I smirk, “That your way of saying you still live at home?” “Got a problem with that?” He says, raising his eyebrow, daring me to say something. I raise my hands in surrender as I let out a chuckle, “No problems here. If it weren’t so smothering at my parents' house I’d probably still live there too.” “What’s so smothering about your parents' place?” He curiously asks as we walk up the front stoop of the build
“UGH!” I groan loudly, flinging the stupid wig across the room. I can understand the aesthetic appeal of being able to change your hair on a whim, but I had no idea they were so infuriating! Not to mention hot and itchy. No wonder aristocrats were such bitches. “Is everything alright?” Comes Camille’s voice from the other side of the bathroom door. “Everything is fine. Just give me a moment,” I call out. Leaning my hands against the marble countertop, I stare at my reflection as I attempt to gain some composure. The makeup I have applied has not only covered the remnants of my fight – or fights – with Silas but has allowed me to better step into the disguise of Camille Lefebre. To Silas’ credit, it’s a good idea. Having me take Camille’s place at this meeting gets me face-to-face with this guy without him suspecting anything, and naturally, of the two of us, I am the only one who can pull it off. Though I’m intrigued to know what Silas would look like in drag. I’ve done some subtle
I pull into an impressively grand château just outside of Paris and drive around a grand fountain in the centre of the driveaway illuminated by small strobe lights that make the water glow and welcome you onto the property. It’s a stunning three-story estate with an incredible number of windows, each illuminated with an exterior light that gives the structure a warm cozy feel to an otherwise ostentatious piece of architecture. Eight large windows line the first story, then nine on the second and seven on the third. Definitely not the ideal location for mayhem and murder, but it is also far enough from a main road that you could scream for hours and never be heard. Parking at the front entrance, I grab my purse and exit the car. Glancing around the property I see no signs of Silas’ car. He will likely park far from the house to ensure the car isn’t spotted, but I’m sure he’ll figure it out. He’s a big boy. With my bag secured over my shoulder, I make my way up the front steps and bang
Thanks to me accidentally killing Haruspex in France, Silas and I have reached a dead end in our pursuit of Sathariel. Silas spends every waking minute obsessing over how to find him, while I have found alternate ways of occupying my time. I’ve been spending my days in my greenhouse working on my latest concoction. I began working on this particular cocktail a year ago, and after months of painstaking effort, I am finally on the brink of perfecting it. There are an infinite amount of uses for most plants in the world. Even the most deadly ones can be used to create life-changing medicines. The trick is to find the balance. Killing someone isn’t hard, but mastering the use of poison is truly an art form. With my combined degrees in biology – with a strong focus on botany – and chemistry, not only am I capable of controlling how people die, but the rate at which they die and in some cases I can even dictate the symptoms. Biochemistry is like a scientific orchestra, and I am the conduc
My jaw drops in surprise. “Get out of here, are you for real?” “I’m the fourth generation on my father’s side,” he says with proud glee. “My mother is an assassin too, but she didn’t get into the business until after she married my father.” “What the fuck are the chances? What are your parents names? Maybe I’ve heard of them,” I say, eagerly pulling up another seat. “Well, my mother goes by the codename Ajna and my father goes by the codename Akephaloi.” I shove him in astonishment, “Shut up! Your father is Akephaloi?!” “You’ve heard of him?” he says happily. “Are you kidding? Who hasn’t? That time he took out that Cambodian death squad. Oh my God, my grandmother was gushing about it for weeks. So savagely brutal, especially putting their heads on pikes – which I personally thought was a fabulous touch. I know we do a lot of fucked up shit, but it’s those moments when we get to use these skills to bring justice to people who would otherwise never have it, that makes what we do re
I smile as Silas saunters around to the driver’s side of the car, opening my door and extending his hand to me. I see behaving like a gentleman on our first date was not part of his performance. With an impressed smile, I place my freshly manicured hand in his and step out of the car. I take a moment to drink in the delectable sight of him, committing every bulge and dip of his perfect body to memory as I do almost every time I look at him now. Silas is the first man I’ve ever known to wear a corseted vest, and now that I have seen it, all other attire pales in comparison. I never thought a fully clothed man could be so erotic, but it’s the greatest discovery of my lifetime. Now that I mention it, I realise all our sexual encounters so far have been clothed, and I’m not complaining. There’s something so carnal about craving someone so much you have to have them then and there that not even the confines of clothes can stop you. Between me, myself, and I, I’m getting hot just thinking
I tuck my sunglasses into my shirt as I stare at the modest, Brâncovanian style castle before me, its terracotta-coloured stone almost glowing in the light of the afternoon sun. The bees are buzzing as they fly from flower to flower in this charming garden that reminds me of something pulled out of Alice in Wonderland. I expect a deck of cards to pop out with cans of paint to paint the roses red.“What do you think?” asks Silas, coming to stand beside me.I look towards him, his face calm and serene as he looks upon his family home. Home being the keyword. The size and status of this stone structure means nothing compared to the memories he has made inside its walls. This is his home, and I can tell how happy he is to be back.I smile, taking his hand in mine. “It’s not at all what I was expecting, but it’s absolutely beautiful.”“I was hoping you’d like it,” he says, a giddy ere to his voice. He almost looks child-like in this moment, and although it’s a side to him I never even thoug
Topaz eyes watch me with hesitation as Athena and I circle each other slowly, the plastic mat beneath our feet crunching under each slow step we take. I twist my hands around my staff, tightening my grip as I assess Athena’s poor hand positioning.Quickly I strike to the right, and although her body language is tense with apprehension, she successfully blocks my strike, the sound of our two weapons colliding resounding around the room. Without pausing I strike to the left, but she quickly manages to block me again. She has better reflexes than she thinks, but she doubts herself. She’s so focused on anticipating pain and being overpowered that it’s keeping her on the defensive.I hold both ends of the staff and thrust forward, aiming for her torso. She scrunches her eyes tight, pushing her staff out to block me, and though she’s successful her relying on luck to get her through is starting to aggravate me. I shift my hands, grasping the centre of the staff as I swing it down towards he
Sathariel stares at me, skin sickly grey and dripping with sweat, his eyes wide with fury and his body shaking as he leans on the table. “Kill her!” he snarls, deadly intent shining in his eyes. With a serene smile on my face, I tap my finger on the table, then clench it into a fist. A moment later one of Sathariel’s men drops to the floor, the pristine white furniture now redecorated with his brain matter, the other guards looking at his corpse in surprise as he lays on the floor, blood spilling from a bullet-size hole in his forehead. I’m sure the back of his head looks even worse. “Even think of pointing those guns at me and you’ll be joining your friend before you can even lift your arms,” I warn, glancing over at Sathariel’s men. “You might be good, but my guy is better.” They look from Sathariel to me then to the window and after a moment’s pause, they take a step back, lowering their weapons. “Are you crazy? Do your jobs and fucking kill her!” Castor screams, but no one pa
FLASHBACK 3 DAYS AGO “Follow through, and the deal stays. Reneg… and you both die,” Sathariel warns as he gets up and steps back. I roll onto my front, slowly propping myself up on my hand and knees, groaning as I clutch my chest, discreetly untucking my locket from under my shirt and using my hair to shield myself. I quickly open the locket and let the capsule fall into my hand. I take a breath, coughing to mask the sound of my clasping the locket shut as I slowly rise to my feet, swaying a little as the ache in my skull makes my head spin. I slip the capsule between two fingers as I finally lock eyes with Silas, who hasn’t said a word. His eyes are frozen, watching my every step as I slowly stalk towards him. “I bet you regret telling me you trust me now, huh,” I say smugly, earning barely a glimmer of a reaction from him as I try to convey a silent message to him. He said he trusted me with his life, I just hope I don’t let him down. I haven’t had a chance to test this out on a
He reaches up, squeezing my breast firmly as he licks and sucks at the top of my breasts when the sound of a throat clearing interrupts the moment. “What?!” he snaps, turning to glare at one of his men. “Forgive me, sir, but your guest is demanding to come up.” Sathariel takes a deep breath and looks up at me, as he fights against his hormones. “I have a gift for you.” “I can tell,” I smirk as I grind my pussy against his rock-hard cock. He groans, his eyes briefly rolling back before he opens them to look at me. “A different gift, one I think you’ll like even more.” With a curious look on my face, I get up off his lap and smooth out my dress, “This better be good.” He gets up, fixes his appearance, and comes to stand behind me, holding my hips as he presses his cock against my ass. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy this. After this we can celebrate,” he says, biting into my neck and thrusting his cock against my ass. I let out a soft moan as I reach back, cupping the back of his head.
I slowly step into a gorgeous two-story penthouse apartment with a surprisingly breathtaking view of the city skyline through wall-to-wall windows. The sun is almost entirely set, giving the white furnishing a stunning, electric purple and pink glow. As I go to take another step, I’m held in place by my pervy escort. He spreads my arms wide, kicking my legs apart as he begins to pat me down. Overly thorough if you ask me. I glare back at him as his hands cup my breasts. “One needs to be wearing a bra to hide something in it, Einstein.” Fucker couldn’t have done this before we got on the plane? Once satisfied that he’s violated me enough, the chauffeur disappears behind the elevator doors as I step further into the luxurious penthouse only to see a table for two set up just past the living space. I register the popping of a cork as I look towards the open kitchen, only to see Sathariel pouring two glasses of champagne. “I take it your journey here was comfortable,” he greets warmly
Exiting my apartment I’m greeted by a tall chauffeur standing by a luxurious town car. His clothes are immaculate and his demeanour I would describe as friendly, but unassuming. As soon as he sees me, he opens the door to the backseat and holds it open for me. “Miss Aconite, I have been instructed to be your escort for the evening,” he says with a Peruvian accent, tipping his hat politely. “The entire evening?” I query as I walk to the car, tucking my clutch under my arm. “Yes, ma’am. I am to drive you to the airstrip where a jet will fly you to Germany. From there, I will drive you to where you will join Mr Guardian in Berlin for dinner this evening.” Mr Guardian. My mother will love that she was right in picking up on a third alias, but I’m still not sure if Lamar Guardian is Sathariel’s real name, or just another alias in a long line of aliases. While every assassin in our world is made infamous by their work and known by their codenames, Sathariel is a wholly different entity.
The sound of dripping water stirs my senses as I feel myself coming to. My body feels cold, a fact only intensified by an unpleasant draft almost making my teeth chatter. I struggle to open my eyes, my surroundings appearing dark and blurry. I try to move only to groan in pain when I feel my movements restricted. It’s only by the second attempt to move my arms and legs that I realise I’ve been fucking hogtied. My head is throbbing along with a growing pressure in my skull that is making me feel nauseous. I’m pretty certain I have a concussion. I try to think about how I came to be here, but it’s all a blur. As I lay on this cold, dirty – what feels like concrete – floor, I try to get my eyes to focus. Eventually, they seem to adjust, and I can now see Silas, unconscious and hogtied just a few yards away. That’s when the fog seems to lift from my brain, and I remember the men who broke into my apartment. I’ve definitely seen Silas look worse, but he doesn’t look great. His lip is bust
I lower the mask from my face, breathing in – somewhat – fresh air as I lift my goggles onto my head. Carefully I pick up one of the capsules from the tray in front of me, holding it up, admiring it with the pride and joy a mother would have for their child. Over a year of failure after failure has led to this moment, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. One of the things I love about chemistry is that it teaches you how much good can come from failure. Failure isn’t the absence of success, but merely a stepping stone on the path to it. Through my many failed experiments I discovered so many new ways to mix and bind proteins that have now become useful with many of my other poisons. I learned even more about the plants I was working with on a molecular level, and while week after week things may not have gone my way, I never gave up and I’m glad I didn’t because if I had I wouldn’t be holding the future of science between my fingers now. I place the capsule down, remove my gloves and th