Deadly Kisses

1. The New Case

1. The New Case

//

When I wake up, the moon is still hanging in the sky.

For a moment, I just lie in bed, staring up at the blank white ceiling. I already know that there's no point in falling asleep, now that my mind is alert. I quickly weigh my options: I can either stay at home for a few hours until it's wake up time for the rest of the world, or I can get a head start on the new case.

"Why the hell would you even ask yourself that question, Cass," I mutter to myself, rolling my eyes.

In one smooth movement, I push the covers off of myself and begin to dress. My attire, as per usual, is completely black-a pair of black jeans, a blank tank top, and a black trench coat that ties tightly around my waist. I grab my purse and phone, take a fleeting glance at my reflection, and then slip out the door.

Outside, it's complete darkness. I decide to just walk down the streets without any specific destination in mind. Besides, I should get familiar with the area anyway. For some insane reason, I feel more comfortable under the pitch black sky than in the large, well-furnished apartment that Headquarters provided me with for the new case.

Reminded of the new case, I take out my phone and quickly send a text to Montgomery.

Awake. Anything you need done?

Less than a second later, my phone buzzes.

Thought you'd never ask. Call me.

I smile at the reply. It's so Montgomery-esque. Montgomery, or M as we like to all her (James Bond, anyone?), is probably the closest thing I have to any sort of motherly figure in my life. Well, I guess I can't exactly refer to her in a maternal way, as M doesn't look a day over twenty-five. But I've been working under her guidance since I was thirteen and had my first kill; I owe her everything.

I dial her number and press call. She picks up almost immediately.

"Hey, Cass. Not liking the new apartment?"

"A bit too big for my liking," I answer, making sure to keep my voice quiet so that it doesn't disturb the tranquil silence of the night. "And empty."

"They always are," M replies dryly. "Are you planning on going back tonight?"

"Not a chance."

"Perf. Meet me in the office in five? I was going to give you the file for the new case tomorrow morning, but now is as good a time as any."

I nod, feeling the familiar flutter of anticipation in my stomach that always occurs before the commencement of a new case. I've been doing this for my entire life and I still can't figure out whether the butterflies are good or bad. "See you then."

//

His name is Derrick Grayson.

The first thing M does when I step into her office is shove the victim's profile into my face. Not quite able to decipher the glint in M's gaze, I scan the details rapidly, soaking the bullet point facts in so that I'll eventually be able to know them like the back of my hand.

Derrick Grayson, 19 years old, male, 6'3", green-eyed, dark-haired, above average IQ, athletic build, and so incredibly...

"Hot, isn't he?"

I flick my eyes up at M, who is grinning impishly. She just winks back at me and taps her finger on the picture of the handsome teenage boy.

"Don't deny it, Cass. He's totally bangable. I mean, I know he's still like a teenager or whatever, but if I was five years younger I would totally screw him."

I pretend to gag. "That's literally borderline pedophilic. You could go to jail for that."

"There are worse things to go to jail for," M sing-songs, half-jokingly. "But c'mon-just look at that beautiful face."

And I do. I'll admit it, he's attractive. He's got high cheekbones, a jawline to die for, and an intensity behind his jade gaze that makes shivers go up and down my spine. I can see where M is coming from, but still-that doesn't change the fact that he's a victim. A victim.

"Not interested," I say dryly, flipping through the rest of the package.

M picks up on the change in mood immediately and says, "You'll see better." She smooths down her auburn hair, already transitioning from gushing fangirl to businesswoman extraordinaire. "That file is just his profile, but it's all you really need to know for now. Memorize the details by tomorrow. We're starting then."

I raise an eyebrow. "But we only flew in tonight. What happened to scoping week?"

Scoping week is the term used to refer to the period of time given to "scope" out their victim. For lack of a better explanation, it's basically a week-long stalking fest. We get used to the area and the habits of the victim, so that it's easier to fit in their lives without causing the slightest bit of disruption.

"Scoping week's still happening," My replies, "just.. not in the usual way. Derrick's eighteen, right?"

"Nineteen in three months and two days," I say without missing a beat. Almost unconsciously, the facts about Derrick Grayson are already engraining themselves into my mind. After years of scrutinizing details in cases, I've basically developed photographic memory.

"Exactly. He's younger than usual-in fact, he's the only victim we've ever taken on whose age is practically the same as yours. So our approach this time is going to be different." M leans close to me. "One word: infiltration."

"Meaning..."

"Meaning that you infiltrate his daily life, in the way that only teenagers can. Attend his high school. Be in the same classes. Enter his social group." M walks over to her desk and picks up a thick envelope file. "Here's the rest of the information on the case. Focus more on his profile, though, because it'll tell you his hobbies, his interests... everything that'll be useful right now."

I nod. "Got it."

"Perf," M says, already seated behind her desk and busying herself with paperwork. "Tomorrow, you attend White Sands High. Now shoo-the sun's coming up. We don't want anyone to see you coming out of here."

Just as I'm about to go out the door, M calls my name.

"Oh, and Cassandra?"

I turn around. "Yeah?"

"Don't be nervous about it."

I stare at her patronizingly. "M, am I ever nervous on a job?"

She sighs, amused. "Well, no, but this is new. After all, it is your first day of high school."

I slip outside without replying and shut the door behind me, mentally brushing off M's words. Okay, so it is going to be the first time I've ever attended any form of public education. But in the short seventeen years that I've lived, I've suffered through much more difficult ordeals. There is nothing to be nervous about. High school can't be that bad.

...Right?