Into the Heart of a Killer: Memoirs of an Assassin

Chapter Seventeen

The man knew me, but I found myself sneaking into his house anyway. Sol had been the nicest to me out of all the men. Ceseth had done away with the other four men already, and I'd killed two already. Sol was mourning, as were many other of the townspeople. Ceseth had managed to make some of the disappearances less obvious. He'd scared some of the men into leaving town, where he'd ambushed them and killed them on the road. He'd done that to two of the men. For one, he'd given him a poison that initiated something akin to a heart attack. And for the fourth man, he'd slit his throat in the middle of the night and left his body to be found. I truly felt bad for the maid that had found him the next morning. Somehow, Ceseth had planted enough evidence to make it look like she'd done it, and she was hung the next day. I'd been there. It wasn't as gruesome as I'd thought it would have been. It had been over quickly.

As for the other two men I'd killed, I'd done it with far less pizzazz than Ceseth. I assumed with time I'd get comfortable enough killing that I'd know how and when to make a statement, like Ceseth had. But I wasn't experienced enough yet. So I'd just plain murdered them and disposed of the bodies. The disappearances of these men had raised many questions, but no one had seemed to care much. The "Maid Killing" still had people too high strung. It was the center of gossip everywhere.

The writing of the wills had been the hardest part. For both of her kills, I'd been left to find the wills on my own. Neither of them had decided I was worthy of that secret. In the end, Ceseth had had to come in and help me. Together, and with a month of time between both of the men, Ceseth and I had found the wills and written Ebenezer's name into them. As for Ebenezer, he had taken less interest in my body recently, though he still indulged himself occasionally. Sol had asked permission, and I'd given it to him, wondering why he'd felt the need to ask. Something inside me told me that was what normal people would have done, but there was no part of me that had not been seen or marked. My time with Sol had been very much like Ebenezer's, with less... discomfort. Sol wasn't as old as the other men, but he'd told me that he missed his wife severely and it was nice to have another female companion. I thought I'd feel bad for killing him, but for whatever reason I found myself trying to justify it.

And then, when I couldn't find anything satisfactory to justify it, I had simply resigned myself to killing him. It was either I killed him, or Ceseth did. I figured it was a mercy in disguise if I killed him. Ceseth would likely be crueler with the man.

So, I snuck into the house. It was very early morning, somewhere around one, and the house was completely dark and completely silent. The only noises were the groaning of the floorboards as I walked from memory to where Sol's bedroom was. Not even a single candle was lit, which I found odd. It wasn't unusual for servants to be up at these early hours, trying to get a head start on the next day's work so they could finish early, or try to finish up the tasks they hadn't managed to finish the day before. Sol was too easy on his servants, I thought. It seemed so unusual that they got a full night's rest, every night.

As I stood in front of Sol's bedroom door, I took in a centering breath. I was wearing a skin-tight outfit of jet-black material that Ceseth had made for me. He said it would make me look like the shadow I already was. He wasn't wrong, either. I was nearly undetectable in the darkness, save my exposed face and hair. But at night, it was hard to see even that.

Slowly I pushed open the door, and it creaked its protest on its hinges as is swung open.

Sol lay in his bed, snoring, as he was prone to do.

I made my way to the foot of his bed and looked down at him. He looked peaceful, laying on his bed with his hands crossed over his stomach. He slept in the oddest positions.