Page 4 of Countdown to Murder
“English is your second language?” I asked.
She looked to me and didn’t answer, and I felt my eyebrows raise again. “If we’re going to be partners, you’re going to have to talk to me.”
“Goes both ways. If your answers won’t be free of charge, I see no reason mine should be.”
For someone who was raised emotionless, the little thing had fire in her eyes.
She wasn’t pissed though. Completely pragmatic.
I wasn’t prepared to open up to her about the kind of lion I shift into, but I could share other things with her. “I’m proficient in firearms, knives, and the use of a garotte. I’d like to spend some time with you alone on the range this afternoon, if you have time, so we can begin to get to know one another. Would you care to tell me what you’re proficient in?”
“Taekwondo, Krav Maga, handguns, sniper rifles, knives. I’ve been trained to use a garotte, and have found occasion to use them in the field. I’m capable, but it isn’t my favorite.”
“Nor mine. A knife is much simpler, but when it’s important one doesn’t make a mess, it’s hard to beat a garotte.”
She shrugged. “I’m a fan of breaking their neck. Fast and clean, and without all the flailing around people do while they die of strangulation.”
“Present tense? Not past?” I’d been told she wasn’t going to be an assassin anymore.
Her gaze met mine and it was as if a small charge of electricity flowed between us. Her eyes were dark, like her hair. I had no idea of her ancestry. Greek, perhaps, or somewhere in that vicinity — not that it mattered. She’d been raised by the Concilio, and no one wanted to guess at her kill count. My packet said her first human kill was at nine, and her first assassin job was at twelve, but shewasn’t sent out on her own until she was sixteen. Eleven years of working alone. My guess, based on what I knew, was that her kill count was between seven hundred and a thousand, not counting those she’d killed in the big battle.
“Seems to me, taking out the bad guys might be a positive in my karma balance, but I guess I’m still figuring that part out. Fawn and Kendra asked me to talk to them before I kill someone, if there’s time. If there isn’t, I have some guidelines to follow.”
“If you need to talk to them,” Aaron told her, “I’d appreciate a conversation with either Panda, Nathan, or myself.”
Technically, I work for Drake Security and I subcontract for the Concilio. If a supernatural has to die, I get paid by the Concilio on top of my Drake Security salary, and both organizations are aware of the arrangement. The payment isn’t the important part though, since I already have more money than I know what to do with. The important part is that the Concilio will step in should the human authorities catch wind of what I’ve done and start talking about murder charges. If I was sloppy, then I’ll lose my job, and possibly my life. If I was careful and did the best anyone could expect under the circumstances, they’ll rearrange memories as needed, and make sure any physical or video evidence goes away. My contracts with both organizations keep me safe legally within both the supernatural and human societies.
But she couldn’t know that. Only someone from the Concilio could tell her, and I doubted they would without someone twisting their arm. If it became important for her to know, I’d have to figure out whose arm to twist.
“It’ll be nice to have some sniper skills handy,” I told her. “I’m good out to about a hundred yards, one-fifty in a pinch, but I haven’t seriously worked at distances beyond that.”
She folded her napkin and put it on the plate. Precise. It took her a moment to decide how much to share, and she looked to Aaron a second before turning to me. I got the impression he hadn’t known about her sniper abilities. It hadn’t been in my packet either, and I wondered why she’d told us. Was it because she was trying to win Aaron over? Because I was pretty sure it was going to take more than that.
“In the right conditions, and with the right equipment, I can hit a dime at three miles, but so far I’ve only done so in practice. My longest kill is a touch over a mile and a half, with a two-and-a-half mph wind, on a warm day with low humidity.”
“That wasn’t in the datasheet I was given,” Aaron said.
“I don’t want it on an official resume. Ever. Fawn and Kendra understand my reasoning.”
“For my part,” I told her, “I don’t like to kill from a distance. I need to know who I’m killing. I don’t trust otherpeople to tell me when someone needs to die. I need to see it for myself. If they truly need to be put down, I’ll do it, but only if I know it in my soul.” I don’t often admit to killing, but we’d safeguarded the gymnasium and cafeteria a dozen ways to be certain no one was listening in, since the goal of this meeting was to openly discuss such things in a get-to-know-you type session.
She sat back in her chair and looked at me a good ten seconds before she nodded. “Yes. I agree. Snipers are brought in for political kills, usually. Sometimes a rich bastard no one dares get close to. Once upon a time, I followed instructions. No questions asked. I was a weapon, created for the use of my masters. I knew I was sold when I came to America, but I never considered myself a slave, despite the fact my masters in Europe had owned me. I considered myself a weapon. Never a slave.” She leaned forward a little, her whiskey-colored eyes clear and relaxed, but still intense. “I was angry, the first time someone dared suggest I was...” She shrugged. “I’m free now. No longer a weapon to be aimed at one’s enemies.”
I was staring, but I couldn’t stop. It seemed best to try to explain. “Your eyes seem mesmerizing, but they’re human eyes. I’m sure it’s my imagination. I’m sorry if I appear to be staring. I can’t seem to stop. I’ve been around snake shifters before, but never a king cobra shifter.”
I felt Aaron’s gaze on me. Calculating, assessing. I kept my focus on the snake shifter in front of me, though.
“Most rattlesnakes have native blood in them,” she said. “Whether it’s Native American or one of the Chinese minorities doesn’t much matter. You see them around the world, the original people of each continent. There aren’t many king cobra shifters, and I’m told they live mostly in India and southern Asia, but not on Mainland China, since the Cultural Revolution got rid of anything supernatural. Nothing that gave someone an advantage was to be allowed in their utopia.”
“You were taught history?”
“I was taught the things one should know to carry on a conversation with the world’s elite. Since I gained my freedom, I’ve learned about other snake shapeshifters out of curiosity, which is how I know about the supernatural slaughter of the Cultural Revolution.”
“You aren’t truly free yet, though, are you?” Aaron asked. I thought he was a bit of an ass for asking, but I’d wondered the same thing.
She met the Dragon King’s gaze, which isn’t an easy thing to do. “I’m as free as Kendra can allow, under the circumstances. The Concilio requires a shapeshifter pass certain tests before freedom can be given, and Kendra would like for me to wait until I’ve lived independently a while longer before I take their tests. I trust her opinion.”
“We have a turtle we utilize,” Nathan told her. “He can follow verbal instructions. Am I to understand, based on what you said in the gym, that you cannot?”
