Star-Crossed
I-Memories
The festival pathways were overflowing,
which was the main reason Casio was having trouble placing the scrying
spell she had felt. Not being able to invoke true magic herself made
it all the more difficult, of course, but it had being making things difficult
her whole life. Not being able to cast in her line of work could
be a deadly weakness. Fellow assassins had tried to exploit this
particular infirmity in her early career, forcing her to work harder to
prove that, even though it meant something, it didn’t have to mean everything.
This along with her natural talent and iciness had quickly helped her to
excel. Now she didn’t need to hide behind the family names or jobs
that had cost her so much. She shook off the memories of her past
and concentrated on remembering the feel of the spell. Thinking about
it now, she realized it had probably just been a trick done by a traveling
magician, there were certainly enough of them in the overrun marketplace.
Whatever it had been, she would overlook it, at least for now.
A light rain had begun to fall, and
she hurried under a canopy, cursing her bad luck. It would be hard
enough finding her in this crowd, but then everyone had to rush inside.
Now it would be near impossible. But she had defeated the odds before.
Her target was a well-to-do traveling musician, or so most people thought.
In reality Yvonne Ransom was the head of a very ruthless, very political
underground crime organization. Someone a lot of people wouldn’t
mind being, and someone even more people wouldn’t mind seeing dead.
People who didn’t have qualms about hiring free-lance assassins.
A faint strain of music caught Casio’s attention. Her trained ear
quickly deciphered that it was a duet and therefore couldn’t be her target.
Ransom did play the harp, but there was a flute playing harmony in this
song, dipping and weaving inside the melody. She hadn’t heard someone
play that well in a long time, and was tempted to see if, just maybe, it
was him. Then she shook her head and whispered to herself, “Its not
him, it cant be. You killed him yourself. So forget him.”
But she knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t ever forget him. He had been
the great love of her life, her greatest loss, and her greatest weakness.
She pulled herself out of her memories for the second time that night and
turned and deliberately walked away from the sounds of clapping that followed
the crescendo and finale of the music.
II- A Glimpse
Hours later Casio still hadn’t found
Ransom and she was beginning to lose faith that her informant had been
honest. The fair was too loud and crowded for her preferences and
she had started to look for a quiet corner. Needless to say, she
was still wandering aimlessly. Her feet ached in her boots and her
black cotton shirt was proving inadequate against the night chill in the
air. She suppressed a shiver and walked on. Smells from the
food booths on either side of the walkway wafted through the air and teased
her nose, but she walked on. Besides, she didn’t have any local coins
small enough to pay with, and using her smaller foreign coins would call
unwanted attention to herself. Even though she was extremely close
to the borders, they had been closed to civilians long ago. And she
was almost positive that the news of the two slaughtered guards had reached
this town. For another countless time that night she cursed her bad
luck. But she had desperately needed a job of this magnitude, and
she couldn’t back down now.
The weight of something being dropped
on her shoulders startled her enough that she jumped. She normally
tried to stay alert enough that nothing surprised her, but tonight was
different. Memories floated in the air as surly as the laughter and
music and the smells, and most were memories she’d rather escape, which
made her escape her surroundings completely. Not a good idea for
a hit woman too many powerful people held grudges against. She raised
her hands to the weight on her shoulders and felt heavy embroidered wool.
Someone had chosen to dump a very fine cloak on her, ignoring the fact
that with her big pockets and otherwise poor garment she looked nothing
better than a pickpocket. She turned to a nearby stall owner and
asked him who had given her the cloak. “A feller showed up outta
no where and said fer me to return it to yas. Said you ‘ad lost it.”
“Who?” she questioned sharply, immediately wary of the unexpected gift.
The man pointed out a richly dressed back that was retreating into the
drove. The moment she caught sight of him, she recognized him.
It was Fenris, she was sure of it. Fenris the Wolf whom she had killed
years ago, before she could cross her family and chose love over responsibility.
Her whole body stiffened under the cloak, his cloak, she now realized.
His black hair was cut fashionably short at one time, she could tell, but
it had grown long enough to fall into his eyes. True, she only saw
his back, but everything about him was etched into her mind like a brand,
like the memory of the sun left behind after she closed her eyes.
Her eyes were the only part of her
that did move, following the silhouette through the throng. After
what seemed like a lifetime, he stopped, and her breath and heart stopped
with him. Slowly he turned and her stomach dropped. He was
exactly as she remembered him; the sculpted face, the shadowed blue eyes,
the half smile always playing at his lips. In fact, the only time
she had ever seen the smile leave his face was the night she had…the night
she had killed him. This thought brought her harshly back to reality,
and she just had time to see him give her a small wink before he disappeared.
She closed her eyes and tried to center herself. She had seen him
before, she would see him again, that she knew. And in the end, she
always remembered that he was dead from her arrow. She pulled the
cloak tightly around her and walked on.
III- Ransom
Sitting at the edge of the festivities
was much more Casio’s style, and as she watched the dancing and laughing,
she didn’t allow herself to feel anything. She had danced and laughed
once just for their own sake, but she did neither anymore and didn’t feel
envy or longing, but perhaps only because she didn’t want to. Settling
back against the stone wall she felt herself sink into her normal state
of mind. The music was fast and joyous and it was easier for her
to tune out than the bustle of the street, where she always had half of
her mind on picking up voices and sounds. She was studying the musicians
onstage, looking for Ransom, when the music suddenly stopped. The
leader of the troop stood up and motioned the crowd into relative silence.
“Ladies and gentleman, a great honor has been bestowed upon us. The
legends of her own time, Ms. Yvonne Ransom and her accompanist have agreed
to play for us at our humble gathering!” A roar of a cheer rose up
as Casio’s breath caught in her throat. Ransom had never played with
anybody, and a new partner could mean only one thing for her. A bodyguard.
Extra complications. But it didn’t matter, she could handle bodyguards.
But the sound of the flute was still in her ears and it took all her years
of training and experience to bear it. Ransom walked on stage in
the midst of the ruckus, loving the sound and attention. She was
everything that Casio was not as she walked onto that stage. Her
blonde hair hung down in waves and her large blue eyes shown with an inner
light as she moved gracefully across the wooden planks. In her head,
Casio knew that her hair was just as long, even if it was as black as a
raven’s wing. Just as she knew her eyes were as large and her body
as graceful. But her eyes had turned black after so much death, and
she no longer had a heart that could love, if she possessed one at all.
This woman had an open heart and for that Casio secretly hated her, even
if she would never admit the reason to herself. Where her heart used
to be she knew with a certainty that she could never be Yvonne Ransom,
or anyone like her. And she would never have the courage to wonder
if she wanted to be.
Yvonne Ransom’s voice was low, intimate,
and melodious, but Casio couldn’t here a thing she was saying. She
was too busy staring behind her at a dark figure with a half smile on his
face. She was seeing him again, and he wasn’t disappearing and he
was staring right at her. Ransom introduced him under a false name
and everyone clapped everyone save Casio. He was alive, and he was
real and he was standing no more than 100 feet away from her. He
was alive. And he had found her.
IV- The Memory of the Sun
She ran quickly through the dark
alleyways, headless of what was in her path. Everything inside her
head was screaming at her to stop and turn around, but her basest instinct
wouldn’t let her. Everything she knew told her that Fenris was dead,
but everything she had just saw and felt, in the very core of her being,
was that he was very much breathing. As she was running a few key
thoughts occurred to her. If she hadn't done the job the first time,
she would have to try and kill him again, for no matter how prestigious
she had become, her old family would come after her if they found she had
failed. And, if he was indeed Ransom’s bodyguard, he would have to
kill her. If he wasn’t planning to anyway because of her betrayal.
A sharp spurt of fear speeded her pace, and she flew around the next corner,
straight into the waiting figure.
“Hello Cassiopeia.” He whispered
into her ear as his arms closed around her, his voice deep and husky.
She could feel his chest rise and fall and it was obvious that he had been
exerting himself, even if his visible breathing didn’t show it. She
struggled to get out of his grasp, but it just made him hold her closer.
By now she was shaking uncontrollably and it killed her to know that he
could feel it, feel her, just as easily as she did. “What are you
doing here?” she said, and she thanked every god she had ever heard of
that her voice didn’t give away her raging emotional spectrum. “Well,
right now, I’m stopping you from running away again.” He whispered in her
ear, for he was too close to talk to her face to face. She had no
response for that, so she said the only other thing she could think of.
“But your dead…” she couldn’t finish. She felt him shake his head.
“How…?” she trailed off. “Do you promise not to run again or try
anything?” he asked, loosening his grip. It was her turn to move
her head, and she nodded, not trusting her voice anymore. He released
her slowly, looking like he truly regretted it, and she hoped for all the
world that he did. He waited for a heartbeat, to make sure she wouldn’t
run, and then reached up to his shirt neck. Slowly undoing the laces,
Casio felt her breath catch. He pulled the left side down revealing
a well-muscled shoulder that she recognized from dreams as well as waking
and something that had never been there before. A years old scar
just below his collarbone in the shape of an arrowhead. Her arrowhead,
for it resembled a star, the star she had tattooed on her left palm.
Her personal signature as an assassin. She reached out to run her
hand along it, but stopped herself halfway there, afraid to touch the scar,
and afraid to touch him. Instead she said in halting speech “I-I
never…I never missed. I never miss.” He closed his eyes and
shook his head. “No, you never did. But with me…well, you hesitated
and I moved enough to save my life.” Then he looked into her eyes
and her heart started beating, painfully, but she could feel her heart
for the first time in far too long. Feelings long forgotten came
flooding back, and it was as if not a day had passed. Except a small
part of her knew that too much had happened, and she could feel the past
days hanging in front of them like a wall. She closed her eyes, breaking
the magic, and breaking her heart again.
“Don’t beat yourself up about.
I know that now you always make sure.” He said, taking her silence and
closed eyes completely the wrong way. She shook her head and opened
her eyes again. “Why didn’t you find me sooner?” she whispered, almost
to low to hear. Before he could answer a strain of harp music floated
by. “I have to get back,” he said, guessing that she had realized
his true connection to Ransom, “but I’ll be back to find you. And
to finish what we started.” Before she could react he pulled her
close again, shattering her imaginary wall, and kissed her. It was
long and sweet, and strangely desperate. For the rest of her life
she would never forget that kiss. Then he broke away and vanished
into the dark.
V- Night Whispers
Cassiopeia rode away that night feeling
numb. Her inn was farther than she was happy with, but all the local
ones had been filled by the festival crowds. So she sighed and rode
on. The night air usually helped her clear her head, but it fell
close around her and kept all her thoughts inside. She and her horse moved
in short bursts of speed trying to chase away past shadows, then slowing
when she grew too dizzy to ride safely, which was more often then she would
ever admit. The lights of the inn finally came into view and she
all but fell off of her mount in relief. Tonight the only thing she
needed was a good night’s sleep. She left the mare to the stable
hands and staggered upstairs to her room, collapsing on the uncomfortable
straw mattress. She just had time and energy enough to peel off her
clothes before she fell into a light, dreamless sleep.
She had been trained to sleep lightly,
but that night had been too much for her. Her slumber was riddled
with dreams and memories, all of the same face. Rolling over onto
the sheath attached to her thigh was what finally woke her. She quickly
sat up and felt something fall off of her. The cloak. She instantly
looked around and, low and behold, Fenris was sitting in a chair in a corner.
He was dressed all in black and smiling at her. Rather than clutching
at the cloak she relaxed slightly and rested one hand lightly on her dagger.
“Peace, Casio! I’m not here to get my heart cut out! I said
I’d come back to you, and here I am. I always said I’d come back
to you.” This last statement lost the light bantering tone the others
had held, and his smile faded. She kept her face expressionless and
asked in an equally dead tone “So Wolf, what have you come to say?”
“To explain something. Well, to explain everything.” His eyes looked
slightly pained as he got up. “May I?” he asked, gesturing towards
the bed. “Me telling you not to never kept you from my bed before.”
“True, and fair enough.” He said, with a bit of his smile showing in his
tone, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. He could see
her muscles tighten as he approached, and the sadness in his eyes deepened.
“I'm only her to talk Cas, talking only.” He said softly. She nodded
and said coldly “Talk then. Start with why you didn’t come and find
me, if I didn’t kill you when I should have. Or when you finally
did bother to find me. And why I’m not dead already.” “Bloody
hell! You tried to kill me and damn near did, and you expect me to
come crawling back?” he lost his temper and his voice rose. “Calm
down!” she whispered sharply, “Do you want the whole inn woken up?”
“Its highly doubtful anyone would investigate. The innkeeper seems
to have warned everyone about you and he nearly called the constable when
I asked for the key to your room.” He said, his good humor returning just
as quickly as it had fled. His mood swings were fairly mild now,
but Casio knew all too well that they could turn deadly. So she quietly
and neutrally said, “That didn’t answer any of my questions.” He
sighed and looked at her, then looked down as he started to speak in a
low whisper.
“The night you…that night I almost
died, I thought I never wanted to see you again. And, truthfully,
I wished I had died. It took a year before I found out for sure that
your family had forced you. It took three more before I forgave you,
before I realized that there was nothing you could do. Even now I
wont say their name, but your family is still one of the most powerful,
and if you had crossed them, we both would have died. And I would
have killed myself before seeing you die.” And now? her heart murmured,
would you still die for me? Or would you rather I died? If
he guessed her thoughts, he showed no sign, for he continued expressing
his. “I found you two years ago, shortly after you received this…”
here he ran one finger across the long horizontal scar that crossed her
stomach. The wound had been delivered in a moment of carelessness,
and it hadn’t been severe, but still deep enough to scar. In fact,
it was the only scar she bore that wasn’t self-inflicted. She forced
herself to stay calm under his lingering touch as she forced her mind away
from the darker days after she had thought Fenris executed by the woman
who loved him. “What were you doing those years before you found
me?” she asked, finding it impossible to keep the emotion completely out
of her voice. He gave a small chuckle and said “Training, drinking,
sleeping around. Trying to either kill or heal what was left of my
heart. I still can’t decide which.” Even thought a smile lingered
on his lips, she knew what he said was true. She had done much of
the same herself, with the small exception of her all too frequent encounters
involving her own weapons and her wrists, which were riddled with thin,
pearl-white lines. “And after…?” she asked, not quite aware she had
spoken, so she started when he answered. “I occasionally followed
you when my work allowed. I always kept an eye or ear out, though.
Which is why it was a bit of a shock to find you in the market tonight.”
“Why did you give me your cloak?” she asked, eyeing the garment lying discarded
on the bed. “Because you looked cold.” He said simply, glancing down
meaningfully. She followed his gaze, then glared at him and pulled
the mantle over to her and positioned it to cover her ‘colder’ bits.
“I meant earlier.” She said, still glaring. “I know. So did
I, mostly…” he trailed off, looking regretfully at the dark, thick wool,
no doubt remembering what it concealed. She watch his eyes darken
with desire and the recognition that it could never be fulfilled again.
VI- Scattered Dreams
Many times Casio had dreamed of reconciliation
with Fenris and what would and could happen. None of her dreams,
good or bad, were being realized. They sat in an uncomfortable silence
as both mulled over the things they might say. “So you’re Yvonne
Ransom’s bodyguard now.” she said, not knowing what else she could say.
After all, her heart had just started beating again earlier that night,
and she didn’t yet remember how to listen to it. If she had ever
known at all. “And you’re to be her killer.” He said quietly and
emotionlessly. She was silenced, for no one was supposed to know
of her assignment. “The scrying spell you felt and tried to trace
was sent out looking for enemies. The only one it found was you.”
All at once it dawned on her the main reason he must be here and her hand
flew for her blade. In a whirl he lunged for her, but she was ready
and used his momentum against him, pushing him into the headboard.
Unfortunately, the bed was smaller then she had counted on and, even though
the blow slightly dazed him, he still landed on top of her, his own dagger
at her throat, mirroring hers at the base of his. “I didn’t come
here to fight, I already told you that.” Fenris said, softly, so as not
to unintentionally slit his own throat. As he did, he moved his knife
back towards its hidden sheath. Warily, she lowered hers as well
and waited for him to get off of her. When he made no move to do
so, she sighed and slithered out from under him, mainly because it was
the last thing she wanted. At the last minute he shifted his weight
so his cloak was pulled off of her as well. She ignored it and walked
calmly over to the chair he had been sitting in, sheathed her dagger, and
slipped on her robe. Dark blue silk with small silver stars scattered
across it, it was possibly her favorite garment, and despite its fine make
and unknown origins she took it everywhere. “I thought you’d like
it.” Fenris said towards her back, and she could hear him move off the
bed. Casio remembered the mysterious package she had received almost
two years ago with only a small slip of parchment with her star drawn on
it in dark blue ink. She had been suspicious of it for months before
its beauty had overcome her self-restraint. “It was you. And
the times I’ve seen you…” she trailed off as she felt his arms circle her
waist and his warmth along her back. She also felt his breath on
her neck as he whispered “I didn’t have the courage to see you before tonight,
and tonight it kind of snuck up on me.” She sensed the ghost of a laugh
in his voice and then once again experienced the lost sensation of his
lips on her neck, and her eyes closed. “Can’t we just forget, or
pretend, at least for tonight…” he stopped, knowing and hating the answer
as much as she. He pulled away from her and abruptly said, “Stay
away from my employer, Cassiopeia. I don’t want to have to kill you,
but I will.” Her newly resurrected heart lurched as she heard his
cold sincerity. Almost against her will, she turned to watch him
go. She hadn’t been ready for him to still be standing so close and
before she could stop him he grabbed her left hand and pressed its star
to his lips. He lowered her hand slowly, curling her fingers down
onto her palm, until his fingers brushed her wrist. Casio gave her
hand a violent tug, trying to get it away from him, but his grip was as
strong as it had ever been and he raised her hand. He took in the
delicate spider web of scarring and the pain was evident on his face.
His distraction was enough for her to gain her hand back, and she crossed
her arms across her chest as she had done when she had first tried to end
her life and failed. “Oh Cas…” Those two words held more meaning
then the last six years of her life, and after Fenris departed, she curled
on the floor and came the closest to crying that she had in her life.
VII- A Hand Helping Fate
However much she wanted to see him
again, Casio knew that if she sought Fenris out, it would mean she would
have to kill Ransom, and he would have to kill her by contract. This
was assuming he was using the typical Ransom contract, which stated that
even if the hired bodyguard failed and their employer was killed, they
were required to avenge the death or be killed themselves. Casio
personally had never been under such a contract, disliking bodyguard-ing
in general, but some of her older acquaintances that she came close to
trusting had told her the specifics. She sighed and ran her hands
through her hair, which she had let down for the bath she just had.
No matter she told herself, I lived for 6 years believing I had killed
him. I can walk away from this job and from him and go on believing
he’s dead… but even as she lied to herself, she knew she wouldn’t survive
losing him a second time, no matter how strong she had grown. She
sighed again, more bitterly, and started to braid her hair. Somehow,
she knew, everything would work itself out, whether she had a hand in it
or not. And it was then that she made the decision that she’d much
rather have a hand in her fate, especially since she hadn’t before.
The only sound in the room was a steady drip from the tip of her braid
as she reached for her arsenal.
The mackerel sky of the past night
had darkened into a sky that was just waiting for anything to allow it
to unleash its fury. Glancing up, Casio hoped that it held off, at
least until tonight. The extra energy in the air might help mask
her from the protective spells Fenris had undoubtedly placed around Ransom,
but she wasn’t going to count on it. Fenris was many things, a fair
mage among them. A helpful and greedy street urchin had told her
where the harp player and her ‘accompanist’ were staying, and she had decided
to use the afternoon to strategize. She only could hope and pray
to the gods she had never known that switching to her cold-blooded assassin
self would turn off her emotions. And she was so close to being successful
it scared her.
She felt the familiar tingle of magic
against her skin as she crossed the threshold. Ransom had been careless
enough to request a corner room with a balcony, a stupid and unexpected
move on her part. Two windows and the balcony curtains. However,
as she had suspected, the magical barriers were stronger around the windows,
but her sixth sense that allowed her to feel it could tell her nothing
of its nature. Her knowledge of spells would help her to recognize
certain preparations and diagrams used in casting, which could possibly
tell her what spells were protecting the area. Casio was just trusting
whatever lucky stars she actually had still supporting her that the spells
were triggered on intent, not entrance. At least, not through the
entrance of the main door. Finding a maid uniform to go unnoticed
had been easy, finding a place for her dagger had proved more difficult.
The obscenely tight bodice had prevented her from using one of her back
sheaths, and the heavy skirts were giving her trouble doing anything, let
alone drawing a blade from her ankle or leg. Despite the unfortunate
outfitting, Casio had managed to cut a slit in her pocket. That way,
she could reach in and rather than find the unforgiving cloth, her fingers
would find warm skin, black leather, and cold steel. Keeping her
hand away from her side and her thoughts away from death was almost impossible
as she entered the empty room. At first the emptiness surprised her,
but then her mind started adding up the pieces. It wasn’t all that
late in the evening, only a few hours after sunset, and the person who
had cast the spell, Undoubtedly Fenris, she allowed a small part of her
mind to reason, was distracted, or else he would’ve noticed someone crossing
his barrier. She calmed slightly and started to search the room for
anything helpful. Until she heard noises coming from the next room.
She almost hadn't noticed the door behind the old and moth-eaten tapestry,
but it did follow that Ransom would have enough money and influence to
get two rooms. And on further inspection, there was no bed in the
room she now occupied. Her mind worked quickly and Casio reasoned
that now was as good a time as any to start the end of her life.
Killing Yvonne Ransom would ensure either Fenris or her own death, but
Casio had been spending the past six years preparing for her own death,
from whatever direction it would come. For, until last night, she
didn’t believe she had anything to live for. She silently dipped
her hand into her pocket and advanced on the door.
Chapter VIII- Hesitation
Pressing her ear against the door,
Casio heard that Ransom was definitely not alone in the next room.
No matter, she thought, It makes sense that she would have at least one
lover, and there’s nothing keeping me from killing him too. It didn’t
occur to her until too late just who that lover might be. In what
seemed to be slow motion, she opened the door without a sound and saw them
lying together. He was out of the bed in an instant while Ransom
lay there, too stunned even to pull up the sheets. In the low light,
Fenris didn’t seem to recognize her or to see the blade in her hand.
“Damn-it woman! Haven’t you heard of knocking?” he snarled, reaching
for his pants. She backed out of the small dark chamber in a rush,
thrusting her dagger back into her ‘pocket’. She winced as she felt
a line of blood spring up from her newly separated skin. Her primal
instinct clamped her hand to the wound before her learned behaviors kicked
in. The pressure she had applied had pressed the blood into the skirts,
and it showed up well on the rough cotton. She whirled to leave as
Fenris emerged as well. “Cassiopeia, wait!” he hissed, obviously
torn between the need to keep his voice down and the urgent tone with which
he wanted his words conveyed. She paid him no heed and tried to flee
out the door. No sooner had she yanked open the door then she felt
the build of power in the room, centered in front of her. She knew
without a doubt that if she put even a finger towards this new protection
that she would be thrown across the room. She turned deliberately
to face him. “So you’ll let me fight for my life.” She said.
“I told you not to come here. But you never did listen, did you?”
he said softly, advancing on her, his voice full of memories and suppressed
longing. She would have backed away from him, but the doorway was
directly behind her, so she stood her ground. He saw the emotions
fly across her face and stopped halfway to her. There was too much
that had needed to be said for too long, and the words blocked their throats.
Casio would have thought time itself had stopped for them at long last
if she didn’t feel the warm trickle of blood down her leg. “What
happened?” said a tired feminine voice from the opposite doorway.
In dreadful unison they both turned to see an astonished bed-sheet clad
Yvonne Ransom in the doorway. Reality came crashing back around Casio
like a wave and she was reminded of why she had come. Without hesitation,
she drew out her dagger again and slammed the hilt of it into Fenris’s
temple. Ransom screamed as he sank to the floor, unconscious.
Not wasting any time, Cassiopeia strode forward and drew her blade quickly
along the base of Ransom’s throat. She was dead before she hit the
floor.
She stood over her for a moment,
blood dripping off of her knife, clothes, and leg. She had a hard
time believing how easy the actual assassination had been, and how emotionally
taxing. She shook her head once to clear it, and then walked slowly
over to Fenris’s inert form. She positioned her blade over his heart,
it seemed ironically fitting, and she prepared to kill him once and for
all. She started to push down on the handle and at the same time
a violent shake loosened it from her hand. The metallic kiss of death
slid to the blood-soaked floor and she couldn’t stop shaking. She
knew he would gain consciousness soon and that if she was going to kill
him it had to be now. And at that point her life as she knew it,
her hard and newly earned commission, didn’t seem nearly as important as
this man. What had once been her own pure heart might as well have
beat in his breast, for if she drove the dagger home, she would just as
surely die. She crouched over his body and shook and shook.
After perhaps too long, she moved
her aching legs from their position and walked into the antechamber.
There she found some of Ransom’s clothing, which she quickly changed into.
She would attract enough attention with the wound on her leg soaking through
the thinner robe without being equally soaked in Ransom’s blood.
The low-necked dress was hardly her style, but she really didn’t have a
choice. She walked into the other room just in time to see Fenris
start to stir. In a minor panic, she hurried over to him and gave
him a swift relatively gentle kick to the head. She didn’t want him
waking before she was long gone. Heaving a small sigh of relief as
he slipped back into oblivion, she bent over and retrieved her dagger.
The blood that had been left on it was now sticky and of no use to her,
so she made her way to one of the fresher pools on the floor. Running
it swiftly through the middle of one of these pools, she coated the edge
with blood. Then, with the grace of many years of practice, she did
a macabre version of her own calligraphy signature. When she was
satisfied with the star she had drawn on the wall, she briskly cleaned
off the knife and slipped it carefully into its sheath, holding back a
cry at the feel of it against her laceration. She took one last look
around and the only thing that caught her eyes was Fenris. I will
see him again…he’ll find me soon enough. And, struggling with whether
or not this was a happy thought, she walked to the balcony and gingerly
dropped herself to the street.
IX- A Sky of Stars
Crossing the border again hadn’t
presented much of a problem for Casio, and she was almost positive she
wasn’t followed. The hard riding had made it almost impossible for
her leg to heal properly however, and it would almost undeniably scar.
But she was planning on taking it easy when she reached home. Home
was a three story wooden house hidden away in the depths of a forest, which
was infamous for its treacherous marshes and hidden bogs. Everything
but the wooden build of her house was perfect, and she appreciated the
solitude and silence. No matter how powerful Ransom’s organization
had been there were very few still loyal to her memory that would be able
to find this place. Unfortunately, Fenris was one of them, and he
would undoubtedly want to find her. If he didn’t know about her hide-away
already. And no matter how many times she dwelled on the subject,
and she did dwell, she couldn’t figure out if she wanted to see him again.
Well, whatever will happen will happen here she thought as she emerged
from the underbrush to see her dwelling looming in front of her through
the fog. She had abandoned her horse some ways back and she was relieved
to be done walking. Her thigh was throbbing and its bandages were
loose. She sighed and walked inside.
An hour later she was forever grateful
to the hot water spring that supplied her bath. Once she had had
a good meal and a good nights sleep, she would be feeling much better.
She hoped. She had a slight limp as she walked down the stairs to
the cellar. First things first, she would add another star to her
sky. And, as she had never done before, blot one out. The white
paint was sitting ready at the foot of the stairs, but the black paint
was harder to find, and she ended up having to add water and stir furiously
to get enough to cover the small red star in the center of her ceiling,
where the moon had once been. The highest room was hers, and as she
entered it she was overcome. The ceiling and walls were covered in
stars of various sizes and brightness. After every one of her kills,
she added another star. In fact, there were so many, she had forgotten
the stories behind all but the most important. The faded off-white
pentagram in one corner represented her first kill; the one she had thought
made her an avenging angel of death. That man had killed her parents
and her sister when she was only 9 years old. It had taken her eight
years to train and to track him down, but she had done it and proudly daubed
this first star in the east corner of the ceiling. Since there had
been too many to count, but the one she was going to paint out shone down
on her in all its opaque, dull, red glory. The star of Fenris, which
had blotted out the moon she had drawn after joining her family.
Red with her own blood, it stared down accusingly at her always.
But not anymore. She pulled a stool over and dipped her brush in
the black paint.
Less then fifteen later the stars
in her sky had balanced out, one lost and one gained. She sighed
and decided that before anything else she wanted sleep. A timed and
temporary release from herself and all her thoughts and memories.
Not even bothering to put the paint back in the cellar, she took off her
robe and dropped it in a heap on the floor. Keeping a weapon in easy
reach under her pillow, Cassiopeia fell asleep in her star covered room.
X- Star-Crossed
The scent of wild roses tickled her
nose awake and something soft brushed her cheek, her stomach, her legs.
She sat up slowly, not quite awake, and looked bemusedly around at the
scattering of rose petals on her bed. The late afternoon sun shone
through her window and it took her a moment to realize she wasn’t still
dreaming and that Fenris was actually standing in the shadows at the foot
of her bed. Her breath caught in her throat and she waited for him
to make the first move. And move he did, but not for a weapon.
He walked forward cautiously and deliberately at the same time. All
she could do was sit and watch him come closer as her heart beat faster
and faster. A step from her he stopped and looked deep into her eyes.
Casio, with all her being, wanted to forget at that moment, wanted to pretend
that nothing needed to have happened between them. And then, at that
one second in time, that broken dream was all that they lived for.
She stood up to face him, but he came halfway to meet her. Both of
her hands were on the bed behind her and one of his was next to them, but
his other strayed to her cheek, brushing a hair lightly out of her face.
Their eyes met and he started to whisper her name, but she stopped him.
“My name is Séraphine.” She said almost inaudibly. Maybe under
her true name the rest of her past could disappear. “Séraphine.”
He said, as if tasting the name for the first time. Then he leaned
forward and kissed her gently. The kiss quickly deepened and she
found herself pulling him next to her onto the bed. Their combined
weight crushed the rose petals, releasing their wild perfume into the air.
That afternoon and night was the
first time that Casio cried. Perhaps it was the transition back to
a young girl who still could, or perhaps it was because they both knew
this would be the last time either would hold the only person they had
ever loved. They made love again and again, dozing in between, and
always her tears fell steadily. She knew he noticed, and he knew
that there was nothing he could do and there was nothing she wanted him
to say. The sun set and the moon rose and still they lay together,
refusing the reality of the outside world that would shatter their cocoon
of moonlight and roses. Lying side by side, Séraphine felt
Fenris’s breath steady, slow, then deepen as if he was falling asleep,
but she knew better. Her breathing had done the same, but she was
painfully far from sleep. Piece by piece, things were falling into
place in her mind and all she wanted to do was lie there next to him so
it was the last thing she let herself do. She left the bed of roses
and slipped into her robe, feeling his eyes on her back, but not wanting
to turn around. “I love you Séraphine, never forget it.
I will love you until the earth crumbles and the stars turn cold.”
She closed her eyes and a single tear found its way down her cheek.
Our stars crossed and turned cold long ago…she thought bitterly as another
tear fell. “I’ve always loved you, and I always will.” She choked
out, still not turning. Then she rushed downstairs. Fenris
didn’t follow her. Instead he stayed in bed for a long while.
Perhaps he slept, but Séraphine didn’t know. She was sitting
in the library directly below her bedroom and she would have heard if he
had moved, but she hadn't heard anything. So she sat, and she waited,
staring at the stars though the bay windows of the athenaeum. After
a lifetime of instants, she heard him stir and leave the bed. She
sighed deeply and listened to him gather his belongings one floor above
her. As she heard the door close she rose and headed for the stairs.
Epilogue
The flames started quietly, gently
licking at the frame of the house. As the heat and intensity increased,
the boards blackened and the few animals brave enough to investigate the
initial hint of smoke in the air scattered. The shattering of fine
stained glass interrupted the soft deadly crackling of the blaze.
As the inferno rose to rival the very stars, a single black figure could
be discerned walking away from the devastated building. The silhouette
turned back once to look at the quick building ruin, and pulled up a heavy
wool cloak as if against the heat. Then it turned away to vanish
into the growing darkness that not even the cold, crossed stars could stop.
