A Covenant Of Ashes

Chapter 3

Without obstacles, with the wide open doors, she made her way out of the dungeon and into the city. Violent rays of the sun shot through her eyes,and she felt a sudden ring by her temples, reminding her of her headache. She held both eyes and waited for them to adjust to the afternoon sun. Two days, three? She had lost count of the last time she saw the sun. For a moment, she felt a spell of relief, but with it came a feeling of unease. 

Footsteps and indistinct voices trooped past, and she opened her eyes to see the scores of people hurrying by, creating a circle around, avoiding her. It went without saying that she was a victim of the mafia who had managed to escape, and she was not to be associated with. 

The smell of olives and the scent of ginseng were thick in the air, and she turned her head calmly in each direction in order to get a glimpse, and have an idea of where she was. Through the buildings she saw the ocean, and to her left was an open market, which explained the large amounts of people on the street. 

It was the last place she wanted to find herself. 

The police were about to come after her, she had to get the condescending gazes away from her, and she had to find a way to go to Jordaan. She began asking around, asking everyone if they knew where she could find a payphone, but each person steered clear as soon as she approached them. Some of them covered the eyes of their children and paced by, while some yelled at her to stay away. 

She continued seeking directions, and continued taking rejections until she heard a hoarse voice from behind shouting her to leave the premises. She looked behind and discovered a round man holding a kitchen knife in a white apron coming for her. Without giving it a thought, she fled the scene and the man stopped chasing her. But she kept on running. She ran down the road, away from the market to a corner between two buildings, putting a hand down on her knees and the other on a wall to keep herself from falling. 

The clock was ticking, and with her state, there was no way she was getting to Jordaan. She needed first aid, a change of clothes, and money - a lot of it. She put her hand in her pocket and pulled from it two wallets which she had stolen while asking the locals for directions. Simple pickpocketing was all it was to her. She took out all the money contained in both wallets and threw them aside. Everything summed up to about two hundred euros which she assumed was enough to get herself new clothes and first aid.

Minutes later, after aimlessly walking around and being avoided by the locals, she was able to find a telephone thanks to a dark haired woman pointing to a certain direction.  

As soon as she got to the phone, she dialed in a private number belonging to the squad - the black squad - hoping to gain backup or at least, send some of help. 

The squad was a group of well organised mercenaries that operated from the shadows of human history, carrying out murders, theft, robbery, extortions, and have managed to stay in the shadows of time. Although the squad had several names in different languages and countries, it existed in the hearts of people as a myth, a story  told on no foundation of truth, and no basis to be proven false. A story told to scare and to threaten. In some places, they were known simply as noire, in others, they were called la squadra, finster,  and much more. 

The squad had a nose for talent, talent which was recruited to complement for a need at any given time period. Beth had been recruited by the squad from a young age, and was groomed until she became what she was. But she never had a feeling of discontent. 

Beth dialed in the number the first time, but the number didn't go through. She tried the second and third, and was given a reply that the number did not exist. She began to doubt herself and started to think of the last time she saw the number written down. Her memory was still intact. The number simply did not exist - not any longer.