Into the Heart of a Killer: Memoirs of an Assassin

Chapter Thirty

I didn't think twice.

But neither did Ceseth.

As I whirled around, his dagger slashed into the pack, a blow that was probably aimed to cut my chest. The contents of the pack spilled out on the forest floor, making clear what my intentions had been. Ceseth let out a cry of rage as he lunged for me. I shoved the pack off of my shoulder, throwing it at him to slow his advances. It didn't buy me enough time. All I had the chance to do was bare my own daggers and stumble into the edge of the forest.

"What? You thought you could just get away?" Ceseth yelled as he lunged again. I dodged, bring my daggers up to slash at him. He easily sidestepped the blow, his own dagger nicking me on the shoulder. I ignored the pain, and the blood. I could thank him for my resilience. That minor pain was nothing compared the whip's pain. I could feel the scabs cracking as I moved as lithely as possible to dodge each one of his frenzied blows. His daggers landed more times than I could count, giving me numerous, minor scrapes along my arms and abdomen.

"Yes!" I shouted in response, thrusting a knife towards his chest. He parried with his own dagger, shoving me back and off balance. With a practiced grace, I hopped out of my imbalance and landed on the balls of my feet, crouched. Ceseth came at me full-force, daggers raised and eyes alight. I waited for my moment before swinging my leg out to smash him off his feet. He only just evaded my move, sending himself crashing into a tree as I ducked away. I could feel hot blood trickling down my back as scabs prematurely broke off and fell away.

"Why? You think you can outsmart me?"

"I've spent ten years under your training. I know I can."

While my words sounded more confident than I'd anticipated, the feeling behind them was null. I knew, in my heart, there was no way I was getting out of this conflict this time. The best I could hope for was to get a few good jabs in and go down fighting. But I was ready, I realized abruptly. I was ready for this all to end. Ever since my previous suicide attempts, I'd become too cowardly to try again. Instead, I'd suffered under Ceseth's unrelenting hand, and I'd earned myself more scars than I thought even Ceseth would have. I was ready to go. I was ready to meet my maker—if there was truly such a god waiting for me on the other side. And while I accepted this fate, I knew I would never forgive myself if I simply let go and allowed him to beat me again. I also knew that if I simply allowed him to win, he'd just beat me. He wouldn't kill me. I had to force him to kill me. It was the only way.

I swerved out of the paths of one of his daggers and whirled around to face him again.

He let out a bark of laughter.

"You have learned from me, that much is true," he said, throwing one of his daggers. I ducked, but the blade still grazed along the top of my shoulder. I sucked in a breath and released it through my teeth. "But you'll never be me. The only way you'd ever beat me is if I were drunk. And even then, you'd still fail!"

I gave him a laugh of my own. "You're mistaken. You're talking as if I'm trying to beat you."

"You'd be foolish to die by my hand, girl," he snarled. "It'd be the worst mistake you ever made."

"The worst mistake I ever made was made for me," I retorted.

Ceseth seemed to believe the time for conversation was over.

He lunged at me with a renewed vigor, his single remaining dagger a whirlwind of steel. The steel sent up sparks as our daggers clashed. His arm was darting back and forth like a viper, administering just as many cuts as he had with both daggers. I got the distinct impression he was toying with me, much like a cat before it pounces. I let out a cry of frustration and threw myself at him. Both daggers raised, I aimed them for his chest. Time seemed to slow as I saw him raise his dagger towards my chest in retaliation. I twisted as I got closer to him. One dagger found its way to his shoulder. I screamed as his dagger slashed across my chest, from one end of my collarbone to the other. I fell back on him as my momentum carried us both forward. And without thinking, I raised my free dagger and buried it to the hilt in his chest. Ceseth stared up at me with unbelieving eyes.

Blood that poured from my chest fell onto his.

"Child..." his lips barely moved. I stayed there, my hand gripping the hilt of my dagger, as I watched his eyes gloss over and his body grow limp. I didn't notice how labored my breathing was until I fell off him, the dagger slipping from my hand. His cold eyes stared up at the canopy of trees, as if waiting for something more.

In a tidal wave of emotion, I screamed, ripping parts of the shirt from his chest and pressing them against my own to stop the bleeding. I shoved myself away from his lifeless corpse until my back hit a nearby tree. I felt hot tears streaming down my face. I reached my hand up to wipe them away, and gagged at the metallic stench of blood. I half expected him to leap back into action and slit my throat, but even as I waited... he didn't move.

He wasn't going to stir again.