Girl of Shadow Page 9

  There are other resistant groups, but they have never pulled off anything of note. They usually just cause trouble here and there in some of the smaller, minor districts. It seems impossible that they would be capable of infiltrating the house, much less attempt to pull off such a mission. A mission, I still know so little about. Hopefully, Darick will remedy that problem tonight.

  Walking back to my room using one of the more private halls, I notice how scarce the servants are. I sigh. I wish to offer them some assurance. A token of hope, but it would give too much away. I can give them comfort as the Girl of Shadow, not as Izabel, daughter of The Boss.

  The house is like this after every public execution. People are terrified they will be next. I can’t blame them for their fear; even Margery tiptoes in my presence today. I have to admit, some sick part of me enjoys her caution. A bully knocked from her platform, reduced to nothing but quivers and shakes at the sight of me. So what does that make me?

  It is then, while sitting on my already made bed admiring my neat black and white rose comforter, I realize I’m still wearing my clothes from earlier. Walking to the full-length mirror while Margery quietly cleans up, I finally face myself. I’m worse off than I thought. No wonder the servants are looking at me the way they are.

  The short front of my dress is splattered with blood and so are my knee high boots. The back of my dress just barely drags on the floor, trailing after me. I must have walked through a puddle of blood because the bottom few inches are crusted with it. For the most part, the black material of my dress conceals the bulk of the blood, one reason why I frequently wear it while on a job. But this dress, striped with white on the skirt gives the red an unmistakable canvas. I work my eyes up, giving myself a once over. My pitch black hair has fallen loose from the bun it was in this morning; probably from my workout. My chin and cheek have a few spots of dried blood as well. If the entire household had not been there to see the spectacle in person, they would probably think I killed the boy myself. I’m surprised Fernando didn’t say anything, but then again, he’s used to seeing me covered in blood and today of all days his mind, like mine, was somewhere else entirely. It’s a terrifying sight even to myself. I’m not so used to seeing myself, when I am just Izabel, coated in blood.

  Removing my gloves, I grab a basin and pitcher of water and begin cleaning my face, carefully going over every inch of it as if to catch a glimpse of the girl I once was. My voice comes out strange when I say “Margery, a bath please.” I visibly see her flinch behind me, but she nods and leaves.

  As soon is the door is shut, I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. I stare at myself long and hard. This can’t be me. This can’t be Izabel. This girl covered in blood. Who can manage to smile at an execution instead of vomiting on the stage. Who can watch unblinking as someone’s head is removed from their shoulders. Who relishes the fear of servant. Who doesn’t notice the blood on her clothes until hours later, and who will gladly and gratefully wake up tomorrow to welcome the sun for one more day. If I haven’t already lost myself, then I’m close.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and chant over and over again, “I am the Girl of Shadow. I seek vengeance for my mother. I seek justice for my people. I’m not a monster. I’m not a monster. I’m not a monster.” No matter how often I say it, I know it’s not really true. I’m a monster. Only a monster could play my role. No matter my reasons or justifications, I am still a murderer like my father, like Darick. Whether I do it in the name of good or evil, the result is the same. Izabel is just as bloody as the Girl of Shadow. I’m losing my soul and perhaps… my mind.

  Dropping to my knees, I say a prayer to my mother. I beg her guidance. She’s quiet today like most days, but sometimes I swear I can feel her with me, wanting to embrace me with the same desperation I feel. Perhaps later I will pull one of her books, to caress the cover and remember our time together; it will at least give me peace of mind.

  I’m still kneeling in front of the mirror with my eyes shut when Margery comes back in with a group of maids to set up the bath. I don’t move from my spot until I hear the door click shut once again. I can’t face anyone right now; not when I’m feeling weak and broken.

  Stripping in front of the mirror, I want to see the physical evidence of what I’ve become. To relive every scar and remind myself of who I am. My skin is peppered with them. I trail my fingers over one particular gruesome looking scar on my rib. It was gifted to me last year.

  It was supposed to be an easy job. In. Out. No problem. The man, a higher level capo, just so happened to be a little better trained than I expected. I was too cocky going in. My father’s men are usually good with swords. Very few can claim to be good at hand on hand combat. I killed all of his men quickly, dispatching each man with ease before they could make a sound. That is, until the last one, who managed to stumble upon me while I was taking out one of his buddies. He let out a shriek before I could cut his throat.

  It was all the capo needed to be ready for me. He sat behind his desk like nothing was going on outside his office in his home. He looked at me without concern. It was like he was laughing at me. The rage drove me to stupidity…

  I’m the Girl of Shadow! He should tremble in fear at my feet. Instead, he smiles. I fly across his desk, knife in hand. I never expected him to move so quickly. He disables me within seconds, using my own knife as a weapon against me. A quick jab to the ribs knocks me off my high horse. Elbowing him in the face, I use my weight to throw him off. My knife skitters across the floor, out of reach of both of us. We fight using the only weapons available to us. Our hands, our feet, our face, elbows, knees, anything to get the upper hand. He knows the stakes as well as I.

  I’m bruised all over by the time I’m able to finish him. He probably could have won if he hadn’t thrown me across the room in reach of a pointy object; a letter opener. I pick it up and throw it right at his throat. He chokes on his own blood.

  I stand over him, watching his final moments, the eye bulging is the worst. It’s then I realize I need to get my side bandaged up or I will end up as dead as the capo. He managed to slice me deep between the ribs. I stumble home and clean the wound carefully, and then stitch it up myself. I nearly pass out from the pain. I pull the needle through my skin as steadily as possible, but it’s made more difficult because I can’t control the shaking in my hands.

  Following that mission, I spent a week in bed pretending to have the worst period cramps of my life. It was enough to keep my father, brothers, and Darick away. The scar is particularly ugly due to my botched stitching, but at least it didn’t get infected. I can live with the ugly scar as long as I’m still breathing.

  Most of my other scars are small and faded. Little mistakes during training, small skirmishes out in the real world. Everyone a reminder. One day I will wear them openly with pride.

  I sink into the cooling bath, scrubbing myself from top to bottom over and over again. It’s a ritual to clean myself inside and out. It works to get my mind back into the game. I have a party tonight. With that thought, I take the next hour to pretend to be a regular teenage girl.

  Margery knocks and offers assistance. I shoo her away with the request to have dinner sent to my room. She never took an interest in helping me before and I really need the time alone. Besides, how would I ever explain the scars? The most she could do is help me with my hair, but I already have that covered.

  I curl my hair and style it, putting some hair up, but leaving plenty of it down to look seductive. I apply red lipstick to my lips and a little white at the crest to give them a pouty look.

  Even as I play pretend, my mission tonight is always at the back of my mind. I want to appeal to Darick in a way that will make me irresistible to him. I make my eyes smoky and add a thin layer of eyeliner. My outfit, although it’s pitch black like most everything I wear, reveals more cleavage than I usually let show. The skirt comes to knees, my boots are heeled, and my corset pushes my breast up and out. It’s sleeveless. I we
ar a thin leather coat over the top of the outfit. I button it up so it covers me… for now. I don’t want to draw attention until I get to the party where I will ever so casually draw it off and gain Darick’s attention. If this doesn’t pin him to my side, then I have no idea what will. Satisfied with the outcome, I take leave of my room.

  We plan to take a car tonight, a rare treat for me since I rarely leave the house unless undercover and on foot. Only the very wealthy own cars anymore. They’re just too expensive for the average household. Most people travel by foot, bike, or by horse and carriage. The Boss owns a variety of cars that are frequently used by him, Darick, Alroy, and guards, but god forbid they drive themselves. They have chauffeurs for that. To be fair, Darick does drive a motorcycle. I would be jealous, but Fernando somehow got me one for my birthday last year. As far as I know, Darick and I have the only functioning ones in this district.

  I asked my father once, about two years ago, to have Darick teach me to drive, but he waved me off and told me it was nonsense. “Why would you need to learn when I have hired someone to drive you?” I had my rebuttal ready, “When I go off to school…” He cut me off. “There is no need. You will go from the care of your father’s house to the care of your husband’s. Darick doesn’t need a wife who runs around. It’ll make him look weak. Let him and his staff handle it. Now go off.” He dismissed me so easily, it just added to my anger. When Fernando gave me the bike, I spent hours with him at night for weeks learning how to maneuver it. Fernando had it tweaked to be perfectly silent. It’s pretty much my baby, but it only gets out occasionally for missions requiring a hit and run or if distance is an issue. Since it’s rare, it tends to attract too much attention for day to day use.

  I meet Mirna at the car. She’s dressed similarly. Her hair is down, falling easily to her mid-back. Her outfit is a mix of a forest green and gray. I love it. The top of her corset is much more modest than mine, but she makes up for it with her short skirt. She seems to be fully aware of its effect. I have never seen my father’s guards openly stare. She gives them a shy smile. They realize what they’re doing and turn away quickly. I wonder if she realizes the dangerous game she’s playing. If so, good for her. She’s always wanted a little taste of the wild side.

  Darick strode up with a glare on his face directed at the guards and us. Without a word, he opens the door for us. Mirna has the shame to look embarrassed. She scoots in first. I take my time, letting Darick get a good look at me. My skin should crawl at his attention, but that would require him to actually look at me. Instead, he is doing anything but. He shuts the door and then climbs into the front passenger seat with the driver. We pull through the front gates where another two cars accompany us. One in the front, another in the back. Both are full of highly trained guards prepared for anything.

  Chapter 18

  IZABEL

  “The most important thing in communication is hearing what isn't being said. The art of reading between the lines is a life-long quest of the wise.”

  ― Shannon L. Alder

  ~~~

  We arrive at the front doors of a Victorian mansion. It’s a solid two story of white paneling with blue trimming. Paparazzi wait on the sidelines, cameras posed and ready. Guards line the walk way up to the house. They look more like pretty boys than actual guards. I wonder if they were hired for show or if each can actually wield the sword in their hand, I can’t imagine the latter.

  On top of our own security, the grounds of the property are filled with roaming guards. Those guards actually look like the real deal. They’re a little rough looking around the edges and constantly scanning the area with their hands on their weapons at all times. I wonder if they were assigned to work further away from the entrance to avoid frightening the guests. I huff at their shallow stupidity. If something was to happen tonight, the people best able to protect them would be twenty feet or more away from the house. They would almost deserve to die because of their vanity. I continue taking in the scene around me. I admire their plants and subtle decorations, but most of all I’m looking at the windows, doors, fence, trying to determine where Fernando will most likely sneak into tonight so I can meet him. The perimeter guards present a bit of a challenge, but Fernando shouldn’t have a problem. I’ve seen him get himself in and out of many more dangerous situations than this without ever getting caught, advanced years aside.

  Darick and our driver leave the car, shutting the doors behind them. Darick speaks to the guards and security while our driver serves as a personal guard outside the car. We are left to wait until the premises is considered secure. I look over at Mirna, who, for once, looks nervous.

  “So tell me a little about this guy? I never even got a name or the purpose of the party.” I realized on the car ride over, I had no idea what we are celebrating; only that it involved a boy. A boy, I suspect Mirna likes. Sometimes I could be a really bad friend, luckily Mirna has patience to spare for me. It probably helps that we’ve known each other for forever.

  Mirna blushes while twisting her hair around her finger. “His name is Justin Boshan. The party is to celebrate his acceptance into The United University.”

  “I should have brought a gift.” It is difficult to get into a university - the fact he’s already been accepted means, he’s either an exceptional student or his family is of considerable wealth and has influence and connections.

  “It’s taken care of.” I give her a confused look. “My father knew about the party and probably mentioned it to your father. Your gifts are in the back along with mine.”

  “What are his connections?”

  “His father is an associate of your father’s.” I’m not surprised by the information. Anyone living at this level of luxury must have a strong association with The Boss and for him to send gifts meant something. “What kind of business is he into?” I ask, genuinely curious about the family of the boy Mirna is interested in. I want to make sure his family isn’t involved in anything too bad.

  She pauses for a moment in thought. “I’m not quite sure… I think something medical, but I bet Darick knows for sure! We could ask him?”

  “No.” It is tempting though. I want to know why The Boss is being so generous, especially with a possible doctor. “I have other things I need out of Darick tonight.”

  “So that’s why you wanted him to come! What kind of information?” Her eyes light up with mischief. “Does it have to do with the execution this morning?” Mirna missed the execution; she usually does. Thank the Way. In some ways, her school offered her something far more valuable than an education. A chance to be a normal girl for a handful of hours.

  I pull out my makeup mirror and touch up my eyeliner and lipstick, pretending to be occupied with girly things. “Yes, it has to do with the execution. I want to know what happened at my house last night and I need information on a scheme I discovered this morning. My father, my brother, your father, the chief of police, and Darick are up to something and if my guess is correct, the people of the United Party are going to be further oppressed under the rule of my father.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” She asks sincerely and maybe a little too eagerly.

  “No.” I close my mirror and put my makeup away in my small blood red purse. “I don’t want you mixed up in this, but if I do need you for a little recon I’ll let you know.” Wanting to change to a lighter subject, I turn the conversation back to Justin. “So, tell me more about this Justin?” It’s the right thing to say. Mirna’s worry fades and her eyes light up.

  We carry on a conversation about all the perks of Justin Boshan, Mirna’s one and only crush until Darick gives us the thumbs up to go in.

  As soon as we step out of the car, the cameras flash and they don’t stop until we are safely within the mansion. This is either a high profile party or became a high profile party with the news of mine and Mirna’s arrival. I wouldn’t know. I don’t pay attention to that kind of gossip. I call it glam gossip. I’m into slum gossip. Have questions about
the major players of the criminal underworld? I’m your girl. Have questions about the who’s who of the rich and famous? Unless they’re criminals… ask someone who gives a damn.

  Chapter 19

  IZABEL

  “She'd said that revenge was not sweet, that it was bloody. She was wrong. It *was* sweet. For one fleeting, glorious moment you felt incredible satisfaction.”

  ― Sunny

  ~~~

  The party is insanely crowded, but even with endless guests to attend to, Justin manages to greet us at the door… with his parents. He waves a servant over to take our jackets. I pass mine over with pleasure when I see the look in Darick’s eyes. It’s a look of appreciation mixed with disapproval. I give him the most seductive smile I can muster. It’s not very practiced, but I think it’s effective when he catches my eye and turns a slight pink before frowning and turning away. It must be very hard for him to constantly live with conflicting emotions.

  Justin nods in my direction but smiles shyly at my friend. His eyes never quite leave her face. Apparently, the crush goes both ways. I hope he’s a great guy. Mirna deserves someone epic.

  His parents only have eyes for me. The vultures found their target. I refrain from being rude and greet them as expected, but I so hope and pray I’m not cornered by them for the duration of the party. They are both dressed professionally as if for a business meeting and I’m sure that’s their intent. It would be a rare opportunity to get the ear of The Boss’s daughter; unfortunately, The Boss has no interest in the things being whispered my ear. I’m only a girl after all. Luckily Mirna, the best friend any girl could ever have, notices the way they’re eyeballing me and drags me off by my elbow.

  “Come on, let’s dance!” I’d rather be eaten by the vultures. “Don’t give me that face. Besides, dancing is a perfect way to get your hands on Darick. Literally.” She raises her brow at me suggestively.