Chapter 3 - Kayan
1468 Words
MARSEILLE, FRANCE
Oh no. No, no, no... Not again.
I looked around frantically. Why the f**k was I back here?
This was one of the places I hated more than anything. It's filled with memories I'd rather keep buried deep inside. Locked away. Forgotten.
I stared ahead over the spring bed towards the glow of a computer screen, where a hooded figure hunched, typing furiously on the keyboard.
I grabbed my head as a sudden sharp pain pierced my skull.
The room suddenly became quiet; the only sounds were the clicking of the keyboard and the humming of the computers.
It was starting again-
The room shifted. And suddenly, I'm at a door, the faded pale orange colour chipping off at the corners.
I knew where this was going-
I watched as my body moved with a mind of its own, pounding heavily on the door. Rain poured, plastering my hair to my forehead.
A tall man opened the door, his skin, weathered from age and years of cigarette smoking.
I felt my mouth moving as I shoved a stack of papers into his face.
I couldn't hear my voice but I knew exactly what I was saying. The questions I was asking.
The floor shifted again, and this time, I was running.
I looked down at my legs and then back at the house, which was now at a distance.
My breath tore from my throat in short, ragged gasps.
Why was I still here? Why haven't I left yet?
My stomach twitched with a gut-wrenching feeling.
The streets blurred, the stalls, seeming to stretch further away from me.
Then suddenly - bright headlights.
I barely had time to turn before it hit me.
The world flipped and I felt my body moving, then slamming into a light pole and landing on the pavement.
White-hot pain shot through my entire body.
Gasping for air, I curled into myself, blinking against the black spots clouding my vision.
Distant voices swarm around me. People gathering and yelling if I was okay.
Someone crouched beside me. A man in a trench coat with an umbrella above his head, slicked-back black hair and amused eyes.
“Did you think you were going to find her this way?” he asked, shaking his head.
“Look at the mess you're making in the process.”
I could hear the disappointment in his voice. Blinking, I tried to make out his face.
I dug my hand onto the floor, trying to move, but a sharp pain shot up my side.
He chuckled.
Turning my head instead, I faced the sky, letting the rain wash over me.
I closed my eyes, willing myself not to cry.
“You're lucky you're alive. I wonder how you survived this long on your own.”
My ears rang, the rain and sound drowning out the voices around me.
I need to find her.
“Go to sleep now, dear; it'll be alright.”
My fingers twitched and darkness consumed me.
~~~~
I jolted awake.
My chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths.
My hands were clenched, nails digging into my palm. Cold sweat matted my forehead.
I reached up and pulled my hair at the root.
Even after all these years…
I blinked trying to adjust to the dark room.
Just then, my bedroom door swung open.
“Kayan, what the f**k have you been doing. I've been calling your phone.”
He paused.
“Why do you look like you just saw a ghost.”
I sighed, “Nightmares.”
“Oh... this seems like a bad time, but this is really important. I have terrible news for you.”
I groaned, “What is it this time?”
A tablet lit up in my face. I grabbed it, tossing it to the side.
From the corner, I heard the sound of curtains drawing, sunlight seeping into the room.
“I'd pick that up if I were you.”
Reaching for it, I turned it back on.
“Mr Russo was spotted at Palazzo del Vin last night-” he started, “And you can see that right next to him is everyone you've been tracking down for the past four months.”
Scrolling through the page, I clicked on the photos.
“How was this photo taken, when the man in question always has presidential-level security and, at that, a place with very limited access?”
“That's not the question you should be asking. Click on the second slide.”
I did.
Mr Russo was wearing a bright smile and beside him sat a woman. Her back was to the camera, and her hair was in a funny Victorian style.
Her night-black hair looked very familiar.
My heart stopped.
“Who's this?” I asked, looking up at Rene.
His eyes gleamed, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
I frowned.
“I asked myself the exact same question. I mean I knew everyone in that photo - except her”
I pinched my eyes, “Can you go straight to the point? My day is already s**t and I woke up with a headache. Just spit it out.”
Ignoring me, he continued, “Then I went and looked her up. Took some digging, but I found her, and guess what I found -”
He collected the tablet, scrolled through it and shoved it back in my face.
“Vivian Voss. Aged 27. Joined Le Pacte du Crépuscule when she turned 18 and has been with them ever since. Adopted the name after she moved to Cassis with her father-”
“That's just outside of Marseille”
He grinned, “Bet it is. And that's not even all. She studied Culture and international relations in Italy for four years before returning to France. Most people outside of her social circle know her as Vivian, but she dropped that name after she moved back.”
That was why it was so difficult to find her in Australia. She has been all over the continent. And anyone in that assassin's club is practically a ghost. They don't exist. It's nearly impossible to find them.
“So why is she out now? I mean after all these years, that she was impossible to find”
“Because from the way they operate, last night's photo proves that she's on her first mission. Fully trained now, she was sent on her first mission which unfortunately was Mr. Russo or fortunately, depending -”
I zoned him out. My heart was racing as I skimmed through the file. Clicking on the group photo, I zoomed in.
She stood, bent to the side. Her black hair was cut short with loose strands covering her face.
She was laughing, her arm hooked around a guy with a nose piercing. He had his arms wrapped around her, grinning brightly at the camera.
She looked so young.
“How did she end up in France... and in the same country of all places?”
René shrugged
“That's a question you should ask her when you meet her”
Frowning, I tossed the tab to the side and stood,
“I will deal with this later.”
“Right. Okay, I'll leave you to it then, keep me updated”
He sent me a wink and left, closing the door behind him.
~~~~
Later that evening, I bit the inside of my lower lip to keep myself from snapping.
“For the last time Éloise, where is my f*****g money?”
“I swear to you, sire, I'll get the money before the end of the -”
I broke another finger.
A gut-wrenching scream filled the room.
“I'm not in a good mood, Éloise; I suggest you start talking.”
“Please... je n’ai pas d'argent, I swear - ce n’est pas juste, please don't-”
I picked up my gun and pulled the trigger.
The bullet pierced his skull, embedding itself at the centre of his head.
Turning to Rene, I ignored the shock on his face and gestured behind me, “Clean this mess up.”
Tucking my gun away, I dropped the pliers into the tray and left the room.
Forty-five minutes later, my room door slammed open,
“What's wrong with you. You've been on the edge since the intel on Camilla. I get why you're upset but killing Éloise was completely unnecessary.”
I turned and looked him in the eye.
“You forget who you are speaking to.”
He cleared his throat and lowered his eyes.
“I'm sorry.”
“Good.”
I got back to fixing my tie.
“Set up a meeting, invite Mr Russo, It's time we had a talk”
“Oui, Patron.”
- Writer
