Death's Hitman

Chapter Twenty Seven

The sea shimmered in the distance; sunlight sparkling on the waters. The sky above was clear and blue, reflecting on the calm waters. Hope paused to look down on it and Hitman squeezed her hand.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said. She smiled up at him, sadly and then sat down, drawing her knees to her chest. He sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her.

"Yes, it is very beautiful," she said, leaning against him, drawing strength from his closeness. "Do you know what they call these waters?"

"The Sea of Oblivion," he replied. "Maybe that's why your grandmother does not like it; if she came here she might forget everything."

"I guess sometimes forgetting is not the worst thing that could happen," Hope murmured.

"I don't know; I've felt a whole lot better since I remembered you." His reply was meant to soothe her but she swallowed hard. He smiled. "I love the smell though; salt water. Makes me think of being alive. When I was a boy I loved to go to the beach, walk along the sand, build sandcastles and swim in the sea. I remember the taste of salt on my lips, the feel of it on my skin and in my hair. I wish we could have experienced that together."

"We're here now," she said, softly.

"Yeah but not to swim," he said, with a laugh. "The water is beautiful for sure but dangerous too."

They sat silently, looking out across the waters, each lost in their own thoughts and then Hope got to her feet, holding out a hand and helping him to stand. Once he was upright she looked up at him.

"Will you remove the thread?" she asked and he tilted his head.

"We shouldn't until we are indoors," he said. "Keeps you safe with me, Hope. You know that."

"We are safe here. She will not come near the sea," she said, softly. Hitman sighed and looked torn but as she continued to look up at him beseechingly he acquiesced, taking out the reel and unbinding her. She rubbed her wrists automatically.

"Was it too tight?" he asked, anxiously and she shook her head.

"No. Maybe not tight enough," she said, a little sadly. She took his hand. "Come on, let's go down on the beach for a bit."

He followed her down over the rocks, climbing behind her until they were standing on the sand. Grinning he took his shoes off, burying his toes and laughing like a boy. She watched him and then removed her own shoes, taking his hand as they strolled along the shoreline together. Neither spoke, content to be with one another. Hope's eyes searched around though, looking for the cave she needed to find and suddenly her skin prickled, as if she were being watched. And then she saw her, the bent figure of the Crone standing a short distance from them watching their approach. At first Hitman did not see her, he was so drawn by the view across the sea, but then his hand tightened on hers.

"Hope..." His voice was uncertain. He looked around and saw in the opposite direction the Lady rushing down towards the beach, her arms outstretched, her lips moving as if she was crying out but her words were caught in the sea breeze and blown away.

"It's ok," Hope said, soothingly, ignoring her grandmother who was trying to get to them, fighting the wind which blew her back. Hitman stared as the other cloaked figure approached them and the closer she came the more he saw of her; her skeletal features, the wisps of white hair that escaped her hood, the opal eyes which were fixed on the girl at his side.

"Hope what's going on?" he asked, as her fingers started to slip from his. Hope turned to him briefly.

"All will be well," she said, leaning up to kiss him, her eyes closing tightly,  before she walked away towards the Crone. She didn't turn back and he suddenly knew what was going to happen, he saw it in the way the Crone's face came alive with magic, in the way Hope walked away as if she would never again return. A cry rose in his throat but he could not voice it as his body refused to obey his command. He wanted to shout her back; to tell her that the Hitman was almost gone; that Bret was back. Having her love had restored him and they could be happy. All he could do though was watch as the Crone reached out a hand and her bony fingers suddenly gripped the hand of Hope. And then everything faded to black.