Girl of Shadow

  Girl of Shadow

  ~~~

  Holly Chavez

  Copyright © 2015 by Holly Chavez

  All rights reserved

  Author’s note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and places are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover design by Rocking Book Covers

  For Tim, Holly Ann, and Sebastian

  Acknowledgements

  Like anything great, it took a solid team of supporters to see this through.

  First, thanks to my mom, Holly Ann, for not only reading over the early version of this manuscript, but also previous projects. She had faith from the beginning.

  A big thanks to my brother, Sebastian, who spent hours talking with me about my characters and helped me make Izabel, Darick, and The Boss come to life.

  Thanks to my husband, Tim, for reading over the final product while I hovered anxiously by and for supporting me through the process.

  Dad, thank you for taking the time many early mornings to discuss the logistics.

  Finally, thank you to my sister, Rosemary, my brother, John, and his wife, Katherine, and my brother, Nicolas, for assisting me in picking a cover and spreading the word. I couldn’t have pulled this off without you.

  “Everyone’s guilty, but you’re only a villain if you’re caught; otherwise, you’re a legend.”

  –Izabel the Assassin

  “Do you have to poison someone again? We haven’t even had breakfast!”

  –Mirna the Friend

  “Justice doesn’t serve the innocent; it serves the guilty.”

  –Darick the Enforcer

  “Life is good for us. No one else matters; power, business, and family that’s all.”

  –The Boss

  “I want to see them all fall… I want to be the one to push them over the edge.”

  –Margery the Maid

  First Prologue

  What happens when…

  …there are no royal families because they were all wiped out?

  …there are no presidents because democracy failed?

  …everything’s controlled by one man; one man who doesn’t have the support of the people?

  I’ll tell you, it’s the least I can do, but it won’t be pleasant. A story like this never is. Welcome to the world I live in, it’s cutthroat. Literally. If you have a weapon, keep it at hand. You never know when my story might become yours. You must prepare like I have.

  I am Izabel, The Boss’s daughter, and I am a murderer.

  Second Prologue

  The year is 2287. In 2047, the world was almost destroyed by nuclear warfare. In fact, most of it still is. I live in what used to be called the United States in what was known as New Jersey. It’s now the capitol of the world. It was renamed by my great-great-great-great- (you get the idea) grandfather, the founder of the new world. It is now called the United Party. It extends to what was Pennsylvania and a bit of New York and Connecticut, but it’s anything but united.

  This grandfather of mine was a visionary genius and survivor. The world crumbled around him. Europe, Asia, Africa, South America and perhaps Australia (no one knows for sure) burned; cities fell, and people starved and illness spread at an alarming rate. Antarctica is assumed to still be in existence since there was no purpose in attacking it. North America mostly remains, but the land outside of the United Party was scorched. It’s only a shadow of its former self with only about a million people, at least, so I’m told. Who knows for sure? We don’t travel.

  Information is kept so under wraps that many people don’t believe the Old World existed, much less what things were like over two hundred years ago. So much of the Old World was purged and recycled with only a few hints here and there of its possible existence. Now, mostly crumbling buildings are left in its place; a memorial to what used to be, but not enough to believe the fantastical tales of computers and cellular phones.

  Back to this grandfather, so the world fell apart. As a powerful mob boss in the 2040s, he saw an opportunity and took it. With the help of his crew, he took control of New Jersey and then branched out to all the viable land and turned it into something again. It was hard but he managed. Technology as the world knew it was practically wiped out. Steam technology was brought back as the primary source of energy. He built it up, controlling the industries by controlling the power supply. Even now, over two hundred years later, we never gained back the technology lost to us.

  Within a few short years, he redeveloped the crumbling cities with a mob structure. People flocked to the area, settling down under the reign of a new power with oaths sworn that would cost them their life if broken. Needless to say, people fell in line pretty quick. With limited options and the desperate need to feel as if they were doing more than just surviving, this was the best thing that could have happened after the Old World was destroyed. There’s no value too high for shelter, safety, and food. Soon it was like the destruction of the Old World never happened as people developed a new routine and found a new norm.

  He was said to be a fair, gracious, thoughtful leader. He looked out for the best interest of the people sworn to him, and they served him well. No longer was the mob membership limited to individual families. Anyone who proved themselves loyal and worked hard could move up. His leadership inspired hope for a better time.

  His sons are said to have been great too, working hard to make more improvements, but their children wanted more. Corruption ran deeper with every generation until the people feared their leader. What began as a benevolent dictatorship quickly turned malevolent. My grandfather is said to have been one of the worst. He killed his people with an unimaginable ease. My father is only slightly better. My brothers are the product of their environment, taught to be selfish and greedy from the time they took their first breath. They will inherit the power next. I can only imagine what life will be like under them.

  I am also the product of my environment. Shaped by the things I have seen and done, the things I can’t control, and by the woman who loved me. I’m not like my father or brothers. I am something else entirely. Not evil, but not good. Human, in the most natural sense and yet, I am something more. To some, I am a villain. To others, I am the representation of hope. La Ragazza di Ombra, this is my true name, the Girl of Shadow; I am justice and vengeance. It is my job to do whatever it takes to put an end to this never ending nightmare.

  Chapter 1

  IZABEL

  “Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”

  ―Confucius

  ~~~

  Crouching on a ceiling joist hidden from view thanks to the poor lighting, I watch him and his friends from above. They’re just beginning their party since the women have all gone to have tea and share in each other’s company, so the men can do business. Everyone knows good business among the elite can only be conducted with a little illegal substance. Well, illegal for anyone NOT in the good graces of The Boss. Flasks are pulled from pockets and bottles are brought out from concealed locations within the fireplace mantle.

  Most of the twelve men are laughing and having a good time, a few are more reserved, but not a single one seems to have a care in the world. It’s what separates them from everyone else. These men are in their prime, and they believe they are untouchable. Tonight, one of them is my target.

  Smoke fills the air as expensive cigars are lit, but even with the slight haze forming around the room, I can still make out every move my target makes even from twenty feet above. He unscrews his shiny metal flask, not one for cigars, but he can sure put down some whiskey. His lips just barely touch the rim before he tilts the flask back and swallows; it goes d
own so smooth.

  Without even realizing it, he just ended his life and not a moment too soon. It seems like tonight has dragged on and on. I had been at his house tampering with his flask as he was getting ready for his dinner meeting. I so hoped he would take a swig there to save me from following him around, but it just wasn’t meant to be. Instead, I trailed him, listening to droll conversation that wasn’t even useful enough to pass along, wasting hours I could have been sleeping. But I had to be sure he’d drank it before I left him. Otherwise, I would have stayed awake wondering if my assignment is still breathing. It almost makes me regret not using a different weapon… but with so many other people in his house, including his wife and children, it was the only way to go unless I wanted to add innocent blood to my list of crimes. Something I would prefer to avoid.

  Standing up on the ceiling joint, I walk carefully along its narrow beam until the space becomes so shrunken I’m forced to crawl. At the end of the beam is the vent I entered through; I stick around for a few moments longer to make sure the poison takes effect, and it does. His flask falls to the floor as he begins to vomit, but it’s too late; the poison has already taken hold. He drops to his knees and begins to convulse. He makes the most horrid sounds while the other men gather in a loose circle around him all too fearful to get too close. That’s the thing about the elite, they are afraid of death. They think they have so much power, but it means nothing when death comes knocking and they know it.

  I watch one run to the door and call for a doctor, but he’ll be long dead before one arrives. I slip out unnoticed and none the wiser to my presence. Another assignment complete.

  …

  “Izabel!” I hear my name, but I cannot shake my nightmare.

  I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. I get out of bed, seeking my mother. She will comfort me. She will make me cocoa, a rare treat. She will hold me and rock me. I like to keep a piece of her long hair wrapped around my finger. It’s thick and black, so long it covers her bottom, and it smells so good, like lilacs. She will kiss my forehead and sing to me.

  I race down the hall on my tip toes, trying to be quiet. I don’t want to wake my brothers or father. I open the door to her room. It creaks softly. She is reading a book in bed. She looks down at me, smiles, and pats the spot next to her…

  I stand over an old man sleeping peacefully in his bed. “Daniau. Daniau. Daniau.” He’s supposed to be my first kill. I was told it would be easy because he’s so fragile. My palms are so sweaty; they are practically dripping. I’m not sure if I can do it. I drop my knife for the second time. I’m not usually clumsy. I try to get my breathing under control. If I can’t, I am sure he will wake…

  Another execution. I can’t do anything. Again. I have to sit here like a princess and watch an entire family die. I mustn’t flinch. If I do, he might see right through me. With each fall of the ax, I blink, but I can’t erase the sight. So much blood, the baby won’t stop crying…

  “Izabel! Get up! You’re late for breakfast again.” Someone’s shaking me. My mind slowly stirs, but I can’t quite break through the haze. The bed feels familiar. I’m in my room… Well, that’s better than where I had been. My nightmares grow worse each night. They’re on replay. A constant reminder of what I need to do and what I have done.

  Before I open my eyes, I put my game face on and calm my body. I’m sweaty from the humidity. My nightmares certainly don’t help, making my nightgown stick to my skin in the most uncomfortable way, trapping me, suffocating me. I would much rather sleep nude. I resist the urge to fight against the material. All I want to do is throw the blankets off and get the offending garment off of me. But I don’t and I can’t. I need to compose myself. I can’t afford to show any weaknesses especially in front of someone like Margery who would exploit it for all it’s worth.

  I open my eyes to find Margery, my maid, standing over me. Her blonde hair tied back in a severe bun like it is every day, and she’s wearing her white, crisp, and always spotless uniform. A look of disapproval is permanently etched on her face, at least when she looks at me. It makes her look so severe and much older than her twenty years. I’ve only seen her look happy, or at least, less severe a handful of times when she’s talking to one of my brothers. Then she is pretty, but her character is lacking in such a way I’m not sure how anyone can overcome it. She thinks because she sleeps with my brothers she has some power. She doesn’t. She can’t see through the illusion; a mistake that will be her personal downfall in the end. My brothers care deeply for no one.

  “Good morning,” I say through a yawn. I sit up in bed slowly like I have no care in the world while trying desperately not to thrash around from the restriction of the damn cotton. Though, it’s not all an act, I’m still fatigued and could probably sleep until noon. I’m still recovering from my outing last night, having caught only a few hours of indispensable sleep. Sleep will have to wait until I’m dead, especially with my missions increasing in frequency. Fernando seems determined to work me to the bone.

  “Your father and brothers are waiting. Must you be so selfish?” I watch her scuttle about the room, pulling back curtains and lighting candles. Lilac scented. I take a deep breath, wanting to inhale the light smell. The first few minutes a candle is lit is the best; it’s when the scent is the strongest.

  Yes, I can be selfish. Who isn’t from time to time? I keep the remark to myself to prevent furious shrieking from her; my ears are hypersensitive in the morning. It’ll be a real shock to Margery when none of my brothers sweep her up to be their wife and ten years down the road she still finds herself working as a maid. This is what I tell myself every time she’s nasty. It’s petty, I know, but it makes me feel so much better. I make the decision every morning to not engage her verbally- it’s not worth the time; she will get what’s coming to her eventually… just not by me, not right now. I do get up though and hurry about it too. Otherwise, Father will send the Enforcer del Don, Darick to fetch me. There’s no worse punishment, and I can’t stand his presence. He represents and fights for everything I’m against. He is my second worst enemy. The first is my father.

  Darick is my father’s one and only enforcer; a title given to his most trusted guard. Darick is mostly responsible for The Boss’s safety. Occasionally, his responsibilities extend to less pleasant business, but for the most part, unless The Boss is trying to send a special message, the police handle the bulk of the dirty work.

  In addition to being the enforcer, he’s also my fiancé though no formal promises are standing. None are needed. My father made this decision when I was but a child. In some ways, I still am a child. At least, in the eyes of my sire and Darick. At seventeen, I have seen and done more than most girls my age, but they don’t know that. I am not going to fill them in on it either. Let them think I live in the perfect little bubble they created. To them, I am just a girl. The youngest child of The Boss and the only daughter. Girls must be protected. Sheltered. Used. Someday I will show them what it means.

  Darick is six years my senior but acts like a father figure. He hovers and lectures as if we’ve both spoken vows. It’s irritating at best. Luckily, I have another two years before the issue is pressed. A lot can happen in two years. Perhaps I will just kill him. Well, only if he doesn’t get to me first. If he does become my husband, one of us won’t survive it; that’s a given.

  Margery leaves me to get ready on my own. I don’t invite help, and she doesn’t offer it. My clothes hide my secrets. Because of this, I haven’t been open to a dressing assistance in years. I assume the maids chalk it up to shyness.

  I start in on my nightgown; it has way too many buttons. I resist the urge just to rip the lacy virginal white material. Finally, I get it off and discard it onto the floor. I throw on clothes as quickly as I can, donning a long black dress with a corset top. I slip on my elbow length gloves; I hardly go anywhere without them. From my closet I pull out my knee high, tie up, leather boots with a slight heel. They take a bit of practice to get on but t
heir effect is entirely worth it.

  I twist my hair up out of my face, allowing my choker to show as an act of defiance. It’s a risk to wear, but I have done so for years without anyone recognizing it. It’s the single piece of jewelry I never remove. The only thing that could give me away is in plain sight; almost like a dare. It is brown leather, clasped together in front with a mechanical black spider, similar to the tattoos worn by many of the resistance, but different because I hold rank among its members. Most wouldn’t recognize the symbol as one of their own unless they looked carefully. All others are red with slight variations based on rank, but each symbolizes a member’s allegiance to our leader Ragno Rosso, The Red Spider, and his cause referred to as the Underground. My position is one of a kind. Only two people know my role. Of those two, only one is a fellow member, the leader of the Underground, The Red Spider himself. The other is my best friend, Mirna, who lives with me in my family home.

  A tiny raven sits at the center of mine, a small addition I added to it a few years ago. It represents who I have become and one day it will be my only identity.

  The last few touches I add to my outfit are not meant to be seen. Opening a secret cache in the floor beneath my bed, I pull out a few items. I slip a small, delicate looking bracelet on my wrist. It contains a minuscule vial of poison. The poison is a concentrate of tetrodotoxin from a pufferfish. It’s difficult to come by and extremely expensive, but I have my sources. It can be accessed and distributed at my ease with a few intentional turns of the dial of the clock charm. It’s what I used on my target last night. Next, I hide two small daggers on my person, both conveniently covered by the volume of my skirt. One can never be too careful, especially when having a family meal.