Into the Heart of a Killer: Memoirs of an Assassin

Part 2: Chapter Fourteen

The feather brushed my cheek as it whizzed past and made its target with a dull thud in the painted target. I had long lost my desire to be proud in my achievements. There was very little that I did that I thought required praise, and while Ceseth praised me more often than he used it, it meant less. My sleep came easier now, four years after Tane's death. I always thought about what he would look like now, older and wiser and... and probably more beautiful, too. On good days, I remembered our first kiss. On bad days, I could feel his blood on my hands. I had sworn to myself Tane would be the only one—the only one I kissed, the only one I loved. He was the only one that deserved my love, and even then, I knew he deserved so much more than my love. What did I have to give him that was worth anything?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Ceseth made sure I knew it, too.

"Jae'sa," he snapped, in the tone that I knew was silently saying "stop thinking so much." He never said it aloud anymore. I think he finally understood that there was very little aside from physical beatings he could do to distract my mind. It just wandered naturally. I was a prisoner of my own mind some days, and the days where it was really bad, he'd learned well enough to leave me alone. Odd, for Ceseth, but I supposed of all people he would understand how someone's first kill could affect them. Tane's death still haunted me, even after the two other murders I had committed in the last four years. One of them, I was ashamed to admit, I didn't regret. What he had tried to do to me resulted in his death. I never told Ceseth the circumstances, but I suspected he figured it out. Sometimes I wondered if he had sent that man to assault me to push me into action. It had worked.

"I know," I said, reaching for another arrow and knocking it into place. I didn't bother lining up my sights, instead loosing the arrow almost as soon as it was touching the bow. It whizzed past me again, the feathers brushing across my cheek and landing in the target, just above my previous shot. Right between the eyes.

"Good," Ceseth said. "Good. That's it for now. We've got a meeting to attend to today."

"A meeting?" I asked. It was a rare occurrence. Ceseth didn't meet with anyone unless he was out drinking or... or if he had a job. My heart sunk. Three people. I'd killed three people. I wanted to keep my body count minimal.

"A client," Ceseth clarified, boosting my fouling mood. "He has a large list of people he wants me to kill to help further his career. I think there are five, but there might be as many as seven. I thought about doing this job myself, because the money on the line is..." Ceseth shrugged a little but didn't finish his sentence. It was good enough that he hadn't wanted to share the money, even with the fortune he'd already amassed for himself. It had to at least double his current fortune—something I couldn't even imagine. I never saw a single penny of Ceseth's fortune, but I knew he was the wealthiest assassin out there.

"I see," I said gruffly, slinging my bow over my shoulder. I walked to the targets and yanked out the arrows, examining the heads to make sure nothing had been damaged before shoving them back into the quiver, a little harder than necessary.

"But I think I want you to join me," Ceseth said. "More specifically, I want you to kill a few of them yourself."

I paused, stiffening. Ceseth's perpetually observant eyes were on me and my blood ran cold. "Myself?"

"Yourself," he repeated, a twinge of annoyance in his voice. "I've got the list. There are three on here that I want you to kill. You'll get three-sevenths of the money, of course."

"How much is each man worth?" The question horrified me. The fact that it was coming from my own mouth made it even worse.

"Fifty thousand, per man."

I turned around and gaped at Ceseth. Fifty thousand? Most men capped out their fortunes at fifty thousand and that was the greatest amount of money they would ever make. Having one hundred and fifty thousand...? That put me well above any noble. Any assassin. How was this man going to have enough money to pay Ceseth (and me, I supposed) fifty thousand per man?

"That's... that's insane. No one has that much money to throw around. No one has that much hatred for seven people."

"He does," Ceseth said. "He wants us to off nobles, find their wills, and write him into them."

"Write him into their wills? How the hell would we find the wills?"

"I know how," Ceseth said.

"Then why don't you tell me?" I snapped.

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"How?" I shrieked, voice rising. I had a sinking feeling that I knew exactly "how" he wanted to do this.

"It's fortunate that these are all old, senile men whose wives have long since passed. There are a handful that are married. Four, I believe. But the three that I'm giving you? No wives."

"And?" I said, throat constricting. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Something tells me you already know," Ceseth said, and I nodded stiffly, but he continued anyway. "You sashay your way into their homes. Into their hearts, if that's what it takes. And you find their wills."

"No," I said. "No, it won't work. A woman with three different men? Old, rich men, at that? No one will trust me. Everyone will be suspicious when they die."

Ceseth pursed his lips, thinking. "You aren't wrong."

"I'm not. I'm not doing it."

"You're killing them regardless," Ceseth said, and for that point I didn't argue. He had certain methods of punishment that remained unspoken. I knew them. I knew how terrible they would be. But he held them over my head with a steely glance. "Most men keep their wills around when they're that old. And you can torture them a bit first if you must, get them to tell you where the wills are, have them rewrite it, and then kill them."

My stomach roiled and all I could give Ceseth was a faint nod.

"We're going to see my—our—client later today."

I nodded again.

"Wash, and dress nicely."

He didn't wait for a reply before he turned around and left.