The Vixen Torn (9 page)

Done with her cleaning, he quietly led her back out into the
candlelit hallway and down to the front exit. He paused long enough
for her to get shoes and claim one of the coats, though as soon as
she had pulled it on, he had opened the door and was standing outside
waiting for her.

She could only follow him into the night as he began to lead her
across the yard to the gate. His scent came to her, musky, masculine,
but hinted with strange spices that made her think of the desert.

“What are your plans?” he asked, his voice strangely
accented as he quietly manipulated the gate open then closed.

“I thought you were supposed to inform me of my plans,”
Anjasa shrugged. “Take care of his problem. Perfectly, it was
suggested.” She felt uneasy, and there was so much she wanted
to ask the man, but she didn’t dare. Not yet.

He led her on down the street, turning into one alley, then
another. The strange man had no fear of the lower class district’s
dark ways. “You are going to convince him you have found the
location of the will,” he said in that same almost melodic
accent, his voice deep and dark. “Beneath Zarach’s family
crypt. You will lead him there. And I will take care of him.”
He glanced back at her for a moment, the tall killer—for she
sensed it off him without needing further evidence—moved with
such a liquid grace. “Unless you have a better idea.”

Her heart pounded with each step, and for a brief moment, she
wondered if she could do even that. Condemn a man who had done her no
wrong, simply for being lazy. Simply for being a noble, she corrected
herself.

She didn’t have many options, that much was true. At least
in regards to saving Loren. Unless she could slip them both away into
safety, they’d both end up dead. She chewed her lip
thoughtfully. Even if she didn’t comply, Loren would die, with
or without her help. The man couldn’t even be bothered to fight
for his inheritance, let alone take it back. He was useless. He was
no threat.

He’d let her go in there without warning as to the true
nature of his relative, though, and shouldn’t he have at least
warned her of that? Of what might happen—to both of them—if
she were caught?

“I can’t think of anything else, but then, I haven’t
much sleep,” she gave him a calm smile as she didn’t
stray from his side.

He said no more then, the long silence dragging on until she
realized she was back in front of Loren’s place. The nameless
killer turned his gaze upon her at the end of the dark alley. “You
will go in alone, but I will always be near.” His eyes, dark
but holding some strange ethereal aspect, turned towards the
building. “Go, before he drinks himself into an unusable
state.” He added, somehow knowing, “The door is
unlocked.”

“Thanks,” she murmured as she walked across the
street.

She took a breath as she put her hand to the door, letting herself
in, silently. She had to find some way, somehow to warn Loren, but
what options did she have? She thought back to their night together,
and it hadn’t been bad. A somewhat standard tryst, but he had
made her happy, if only for a while. That had to be worth something.

She’d killed before. She’d been cruel and heartless,
and she knew that at some point she would pay for her sins. But that
wasn’t who she wanted to be, and as she walked through his
home, she dreaded what Zarach had awakened in her. She’d wanted
it. She wanted him, what he’d offered her.

That terrified her. Was she so easily controlled?

She knew the answer, just as quick as she’d had the thought.
Yes. Powerful men; they could take her and bend her to their will
with just their commanding presence. She headed towards Loren’s
bedroom.

She heard him before she saw him, his voice carrying out of the
open room where she’d slept with him the previous night. He was
singing. Morosely.

Pushing the door open she saw him sat there, near the open balcony
door. He was reclined in his chair, his fine jacket and shirt undone,
leaving his chest exposed as a bottle dangled from his one hand. That
brown hair of his was an appealing mess, but he hadn’t noticed
her.

She moved into the room quietly, observing him with such sorrow in
her eyes. She didn’t care about the trinkets and baubles that
Zarach had bought her. She would always have stuff, be able to get
more when she cared to. What she wanted was something deeper, and far
more dangerous.

As the self—pitying young man lifted his bottle to his lips he
turned his head towards it and caught sight of her. “Fuck!”
he exclaimed and jumped in his seat, dropping the wine with a loud
clatter, the contents spilling out onto the floor. “You fuckin’
snuck right up on me!”

She smiled, trying to hide the melancholy that lingered there. “I
was enjoying your song.” Anjasa bent down, picking up the
bottle of wine. “How much have you drank today?”

He tugged his jacket down and ran a hand over his hair, trying to
regain some measure of composure as he looked around, then up and
over her. “I thought somethin’ had happened,” he
murmured. “You... sided with him or somethin’,” he
said. With a rub of his eyes he said, “Not that much drink,”
and she knew that couldn’t be true.

“You didn’t give me much warning about what type of
man he was. It took me longer than I anticipated to find the will.”
She forced her fingers not to twitch as she handed him the bottle
back. “You aren’t looking well.”

Loren took the bottle back in hand and pushed himself up. To his
credit he didn’t wobble , or perhaps he simply wasn’t as
drunk as she first thought. “I told you I don’t know much
about him, really,” he said, lifting the bottle and taking a
drink before offering it to her. A slight smile crept onto his lips.
“I shouldn’t have doubted you though... you just...”
he actually blushed a little, “you seemed too good to be true.”

She swore her heart broke a little and she forced a smile to her
lips. She wanted to be his saviour. That was the person she wanted to
be, someone who helped people.

That wasn’t the person she was.

“Look, go wash your face with cold water. Wake yourself up.
I’ll go make you some coffee and we’ll head out together,
okay?”

He began following her instructions right away, even as he
questioned, “Where are we going?” He went to the washroom
and splashed some water from the basin there into his face. “You
seriously found it?” and his excitement was rising. It was slow
to take off, probably a result of his long, depression driven
drinking.

“Do you know anything about his family crypts, Loren?”
She was hopeful that even he could help her save him, but in the
state he was, she could have easily taken him out on her own if she
cared to. She didn’t have any doubt that the fearsome man
across the street would have no trouble with it, even as she did her
best to try to make him alert.

Loren ran his wet fingers through his hair, slicking it back
before he toweled off his face. “No. Why would I?” he
said with some confusion. “Two different branches of the
family,” he explained, though a small smile crept onto his
face. “Damn I missed you,” he said, tossing the towel
away and then stepping towards her to take hold of her hand. “I’m
going to make you such a lucky girl once I have my inheritance,”
and his face lit up with his cresting joy.

Damn it, damn it, damn it. She smiled, but her stomach lurched.
Why had she spent the day with him? She’d been hoping to spend
the night, to be able to look around while Zarach slept, but he was
far too smart for that. She knew that now. He was a bright man,
cunning, capable. He got what he wanted, and right now he wanted her
to suffer, and Loren to die.

She wasn’t enthused for either of those things, right now.
She also knew, though, that seeing Zarach again would weaken any of
her resolve and she’d beg, like the trained slut she was.
“Well, we need to act fast, before he realises we’re onto
him.”

Loren nodded, squeezed her hand and then began to do up his shirt
and jacket once more. “You’re right. There’s no
time to waste.” He was grinning as he tugged her hand towards
the door, “Come on. You’ve done so well, but there’s
just a bit more to distance to close!”

“Yep,” Anjasa sighed. Just a little bit more before
all Zarach’s loose ends were tied up. She glanced around
outside Loren’s house, looking for the man she knew she
wouldn’t see.

There was no sign of the mysterious stranger all the way to the
graveyard. The streets were only lightly populated so late at night,
and the graveyard itself was devoid of all life.

To his credit Loren had enough forethought to bring equipment,
including a lantern he used to guide them, checking the noble family
crypts in search of the one they were after. “It should be
around here, I’d imagine,” he murmured in the dark of the
night.

How was she going to get him out of this? She was already wrenched
with guilt and fear. There were two choices, and both demanded
perfection. Either she disappeared the both of them, running away
with nothing to their name and an utter reliance on her to earn their
way.

Or she’d have to get him killed.

Either way she’d end up selling herself, she mused with some
annoyance. Why did Loren have to be so useless in the first place?
She deflected the blame onto him and even though it felt good for a
time, it soon passed and left her with nothing but despair.

Loren paused before one crypt. “Here!” he hissed into
the silence of the graveyard. The lantern’s light revealed the
family crest, and when the young noble reached for the barred gate
over the crypt’s entrance it swung open. “It’s
unlocked...” he said breathlessly.

“Lucky for us,” she mused, and her hand found his
forearm, holding herself to him. “I’ve never been in a
crypt before,” she admitted honestly. She knew what would
happen to her. The moment she saw violence, the minute she saw that
hired thug take Loren’s life, she’d be putty once more,
lost in a haze of lust, and she hated herself already. “Be
careful.”

Loren’s doubts and suspicions seemed to fade, and he took
her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly as he smiled to her.
“Don’t worry. It seems the place has been in use with the
lock open and all, but that makes sense if he’s hidden the will
in there. He just got careless. I’ll protect you if we’re
caught in the act anyhow,” he said, leaning over and giving her
lips an angled kiss, his eyes glittering in the lantern light.

He pressed his body into the crypt’s stone door, sliding it
aside with a few heavy grunts.

She had to do something. She wanted to scream at him to run, but
she knew that they were being watched. She had no way to warn him
without risking her own life. She had to trust that he’d be
able to escape, and her with him, without being caught by that...
man. She hesitated to even call him that, for he didn’t seem
like a mere human.

“Loren,” she said breathlessly, but there was nothing
more to say. Not then. She was trapped.

“It’s okay,” he murmured back to her, leading
the way as he pushed into the darkness.

The light of the lantern didn’t travel far, but she could
see the outlines of the stone tombs. The rows of shelves that held
each protected dead relative. “Do you know where in here?”
he asked quietly, as if afraid to break the silence. “I’d
rather not start popping open tombs and rooting through corpses,
Anj,” the familiar name rolling off his tongue so easily.

Her fingers clutched into him, trying to give him a sign. A
warning. “I don’t know, Loren. I just know it’s
somewhere in here. We’ll just have to be alert.” She
tried to emphasize the words in the most subtle way possible, but she
knew that it was far more likely that Zarach’s hired hand would
figure it out before Loren.

Loren inspected the rows. As he trailed down he noticed something,
rather uncannily. “Hey... you see this, Anj?” he asked,
and as he indicated to the floor she could make it out: markings upon
the stone that indicated something had been dragged out repeatedly.
“Here,” he said, handing her the lantern as he went to
take hold of the intricate stone carved statue there, trying to push
it out of the way.

She took the lantern and held it near him as she took the chance
to glance around the rest of the room. Her heart thudded hard, and
she was afraid Loren could hear it but he was too distracted.
“Hurry,” she whispered.

It’s okay,” he assured her before putting extra effort
into pushing that statue aside. He groaned with the effort, but
finally it slowly began to move. It made no noise, the stone smooth
where it had been moved repeatedly. Tension held the air for she knew
that dark killer couldn’t be far off. Why hadn’t he
struck yet? He’d said he’d be following. There was no way
she could’ve lost him on the trip there.

Her thoughts were stolen from her as Loren gasped and she looked,
seeing a stairway that descended down beneath the crypt. “It’s...
it’s a hidden entrance to... something,” he remarked with
confusion.

Was he waiting down there? She gripped the lantern harder. “That’s
probably where it is.” Her voice felt so choked off. She
glanced around the room again, looking for a potential weapon.

All she could see of potential use was a bottle of wine someone
had left as an offering to one of the deceased, and she plucked it up
before following Loren down into the dark.

The stairs went down at least a story into the ground before it
leveled off and they entered into a wider area. Though before she saw
anything she smelled something off. “What is that?” asked
the young noble, and the metallic tang in the air was so oddly
familiar. It came to Anjasa from her memory quickly: blood.

Already she felt her knees weaken in fear, and she knew this was
the place. Her steps slowed, and she begged her hand not to tremble.
How many people had Zarach killed down here?