Vagabonds Page 3

  He screamed, the pistol cracking against the floor, shaky eyes locking with hers. Sejit peered at him with a dispassionate look tinged with curiosity regarding his next course of action.

  “Please lemme go, I’m sorry!” He shrieked, dropping to his knees, “I’m sorry!”

  “Ah,” said Sejit, tilting her head on an ear, “Now that you have lost a compatriot and been disarmed, you show remorse.”

  The others, lacking their own weapons and a hulking woman looming over them, raced towards the exit, reduced to terrified animals, shoes squeaking on the polished marble as they vanished from sight.

  “And now you are alone.”

  “Assholes!” The man stammered, anger and fear vying for control, “They left me!”

  “A pity. Now, what shall I do with you?”

  “I, I promise I’ll stop being a thief! Just, please, don’t kill me! I’ll go peacefully!”

  “Owing to your accomplice,” Sejit said, indicating towards the still body, “I would rather not have to deal with the police. A corpse is a mess of paperwork.”

  “Don’t kill me! We didn’t hurt the girl, see!” The man pointed at Sophia, who had been too busy staring at the corpse to pay much attention.

  She glanced in his direction, “I mean, I guess they didn’t, just tied me up.”

  “See?” He turned back to Sejit, pale face adorned with a hopeful smile.

  His smile vanished, along with all other expression, as his body slumped into a heap that only the dead could assume. Sejit cursed at herself; she’d put a little too much into it, broke skin and meat, and made a mess on her nice, white blouse.

  “First time wearing this,” she said, as if she’d spilled ketchup on herself.

  “That was vicious, even for you,” Sophia said in a harsh whisper.

  “His sudden remorse was born of the flight of his accomplices and death of the other one.”

  “Well, yeah! What’d you think he was going to do?”

  “Hmph. No matter. Perhaps a few more deaths will serve to deter further adventurism. I am growing weary of their constant intrusions.”

  “So why not hire more security staff so you don’t have to do it anymore?”

  “That is already in motion, but…” Sejit frowned, “Now, as for you. Once I could understand, but twice? Tell me, how did you come to be captured this time?”

  “Hey! I heard a noise and thought I’d check like any good employee would.”

  “That begs the question of why you were in a position to hear or investigate anything in the first place,” Sejit asked, arms crossed.

  Sophia made a face and tapped the tips of her fingers together. “…I fell asleep in my office again.”

  Letting out a groan, Sejit rubbed at her temples. “So, same as last time. The exact same. It is a miracle you have survived as long as you have. When your parents asked me to educate you, never would I have imagined what a liability you would be. Had I known…”

  “You? What about me!” Sophia shouted, waving her arms at the pile of meat that had once been a person, “That’s some traumatizing shit right there! Do you know how weird it is to see you twist someone’s head off like you’re opening a bottle and think to myself “Well golly gee, she’s at it again! That crazy Sejit!”? It’s not normal! I should be mortified, not, not whatever the hell I’m feeling right now!”

  “Perhaps,” Sejit said, narrowing her eyes, “You should learn to avoid situations in which such things might occur. I seem to recall that was the core lesson of your self-defense training.”

  Despite being short enough that her eyes came level with Sejit’s chest, Sophia didn’t shy away from looking the goddess dead-on.

  “Hey! I learned plenty. Like I didn’t draw my gun ‘cause they were just thieves and didn’t do anything other than tie me up. I’m not stupid. And what about when that gang tried to rob us the other month? You asked me to come with you on that little night walk, I’m not taking the blame for that one.”

  “I seem to recall you were the one who antagonized them to the point they felt they had to attack.”

  Sophia’s fire flamed out, “Well…”

  “More for your parents’ sake than yours, I do hope you learn to curb your suicidal behavior by the time your stay with me is over,” Sejit said, giving an exaggerated shrug as she began walking back to the elevator to the penthouse. She didn’t get far though, her large frame stopped on a dime as a sudden thought dawned on her, “Oh, yes, for talking back, your punishment will be to assist the cleaners when they arrive.

  Sophia recoiled, “What?! Come on!”

  Though Sejit was under a shadow, rendering her all but invisible, her green eyes glowed with an inner light and fangs glistened. Sophia swallowed.

  “You mean to say you do not believe it to be enough? In that case, you will work as a server and hostess at a banquet I am planning.”

  Sophia had to bite her tongue before she dug herself any deeper. “Er, sorry,” she said, sagging, “As you command.”

  “Good.”

  “I see things did not go as expected,” observed Wophin as Sejit slipped from her blood-speckled clothing in the kitchen.

  Everything, shoes included, were thrown into a chute leading to the incinerator.

  “No, not quite. This group had elected to try and make off with the Idol of War and they had decided to make an attempt to fight back.”

  “I’m sure the irony of the situation was lost on them,” Wophin said, a grin hooking a corner of his mouth.

  “I thought the same thing. Sophia was there as well.”

  His grin faded away to something weary. “She didn’t. Not again?”

  “Yes, again.”

  “That girl must think you’re her guardian angel.”

  “I thought her parents were exaggerating when they said she had a knack for trouble.”

  Wophin shrugged, “You could always just send her back. Or just kill her and be done with it. I don’t think her parents would be surprised if she were to perish.”

  Sejit closed her eyes and took a long, chest-swelling breath before opening them again. They were sharp as any blade and pointing at him.

  It was one of those things most would assume to be a gesture of simple annoyance, but he had the experience of having lived with her for many years. While he usually said whatever he felt like, there were certain times when he realized he’d gone a step too far. Unlike Tess, he wasn’t keen on poking the sleeping lion.

  At least, not too much. A few pokes were a good way to pass time after all. He just had to make sure the poking was measured and wouldn’t result in his head becoming separated from his shoulders.

  “Apologies,” he said, bowing his head, “I sometimes forget you’re one of the few who honors their covenants in this era.”

  The heat radiating off her faded to a warm glow.

  “You would do well to remember that,” Sejit said, walking off towards the bathroom, “Besides, she may still yet prove useful.”

  Wophin calculated just how much of his goodwill reservoir he’d used up and found it woefully empty. He decided that, before she was out of the shower, he ought to prepare a suitable apology. Fortunately, he had just the ticket: A few choice bottles of wine he kept hidden away for just such emergencies.

  CHAPTER TWO

  History was in the making half a world away in the nation of Waruvia, far to the north of Yosel.

  The electoral polls had opened that morning.

  Yole Manick, Minister of National Affairs and leading candidate for the Presidency, waved at the cheering throng from behind the myriad microphones of his grandstand. The audience had spilled out of the boundaries of the designated campaigning area, flooding the already-busy streets and sidewalks. If someone had wanted to get a decent vantage, they’d need to be good with their elbows and shoulders to have a prayer of getting close enough to make out the man they were cheering for. Likewise, anyone wishing to get into—or out of—the heart of the city by car or truck
would be better off waiting until the following day.

  Banners shuffled in the breeze, pre-victory confetti was thrown and escaped balloons drifted along far above. And the noise! He could barely hear his son and wife speaking to him, despite the fact they were scant feet away.

  As the clocks and sun lined up for noon, news agencies were already naming him the victor. His opposition, such as it was, was putting up a fight, but everyone knew it was to satisfy the pride of the candidates and their parties. They held their own rallies; a couple people had shown up, mostly as a courtesy before sneaking off.

  To most citizens, the opposition was more of the same. The same old policies and inaction and blind eyes towards a nation deprived of its pride. Political parties full of cowards bent on maintaining the status quo to appease those with real power.

  Yole promised a return to glory, promised to heal the scars. Soon, he promised, the citizens of Waruvia could again hold their heads high and walk with confidence, speak freely of their love for their nation. He wasn’t the first politician to make such claims, but he was the first who possessed the background and clout to make good on his word.

  This was because Yole was the culmination of a plan that began with his great-grandfather, Yarmen Manick. Yarmen had been a visionary even from a young age, and his entrepreneurial and engineering talents saw his small tool and die shop explode into the nation’s largest machining operation, thanks in no small part to the war. Backed by his wealth, he began the steps on another vision—one that would see his descendants at the head of government.

  A dynasty in the making.

  Yole’s sister was Minister of Health. His uncle Jareth was Minister of Interior Affairs. His father was Speaker of the Assembly. Cousins, nephews, nieces—the family was nestled snug in all aspects of the government. Even before Yole’s candidacy was revealed, it was joked that the government was run by the Manicks. Then came the announcement, and the jokes had moved on to how the current president was just there to keep the seat warm for him.

  The family had achieved this in such a short time because Yarmen was the rare man who looked into the future well beyond himself. In his day, the typical politician’s tour was a train ride across the country, stopping at a few choice destinations to give a speech for half a day or so before moving on. Not much of the populace ever got to see the person they’d be casting their ballots for, let alone got a good handle on who he was. The victor was usually the one with the deepest supporting cast, aides and others who could campaign on their behalf and extol their supposed virtues.

  He knew that was all going to change. Advancing technology and burgeoning populations meant more people than ever could get a good look at the man they’d be voting for, hear his words as he spoke them. No doubt that, in the future, technology would enable the entire country to watch and listen as candidates battled it out in a debate. After all, he’d just seen the telephone at the world’s fair. Some influential men scoffed that it’d cost too much to build up the infrastructure and the quality was far too poor. The telegraph worked just fine!

  Yarmen knew better.

  But, on the back of it all was one, critical thing: Charisma. Charisma was going to be what won elections. Deep pockets would get a man far, but deep pockets and a good face—now that was going to be the winning recipe. The key to power was making people believe you had power, and the key to that was making them either like you or fear you. In a democratic society, the latter option tended to not work so well.

  There was, however, one stumbling point to charisma for Yarmen. Although he had the build and height, his face was described, optimistically, as unfortunate. As was his father’s along with his many brothers’, to an extent.

  Thus, starting with his first son, he was careful about picking marriage partners. Wealth and status were well and good, but he needed families that were handsome. His was a loveless marriage, but the sons and daughters were a step up in attractiveness. The children met similar fates. Some didn’t understand, others did. Ultimately, it didn’t matter, so long as they did as they were told. Dynasties didn’t build themselves.

  It took to the fourth generation for the fruit to fully ripen, but now all the pieces were in place.

  Yole continued waving, even pumping his fist. The crowd ate it up in heaps and piles. Soon, Waruvia would be a force to be reckoned with. The people could take pride in the fact they were Waruvians.

  The first objective on his campaign was the country to the southeast, Coanphany. A large, industrialized nation, rich in mineral wealth, though its expanses of cold, craggy lands meant what little arable land they had was insufficient for their population. Between them were the Fial mountains. As it so happened, the best mineral deposits often stretched across both their borders. It had not always been that way.

  Coanphany had been an ally turned opportunistic foe. A hundred years before, the Endless War was dragging towards an inevitable conclusion, and seeing which way the wind was blowing, Coanphany switched their allegiances, helping themselves to a significant portion of Waruvia’s lands in the process.

  That land and mineral wealth had belonged to Waruvia alone. Coanphany was a poor nation, eking out a living amongst the rocks. That they struck while Waruvia’s armies were away was the only reason they succeeded in capturing much of anything. The only reason Coanphany prospered while Waruvia languished was that terrible theft.

  It may have been a century, but the people never forgot.

  Yole promised to reclaim their stolen lands. The people cheered.

  What the masses didn’t know was that his promise to reclaim land wouldn’t be limited to pre-war borders. A plan long in the coming, Waruvia would snatch up her neighbors, starting with Coanphany and that despot of theirs, Ifon. Once their major rival had been dealt with, Waruvia would have little issue snapping up the large, but mostly barren nations to her north and east.

  The major powers on the western continent across the ocean had no strong ties to the region. If anything, Coanphany and its ethnic neighbors could be considered a thorn in the side of the wealthy nation of Erton. Though talks had been slow and vague, Yole got the impression they would be willing to look the other way provided things didn’t get out of hand on the road to regional conquest.

  Things were looking good for himself and his nation.

  Both arms thrust into the air he let out a cheer to match the crowd’s and they responded in kind, feeding off one another.

  “We will reclaim our destiny!” He bellowed, some dozen microphones dotting his podium relaying his voice across the city, “Waruvia will have its pride once again!”

  The back of his head erupted in a rain of gore.

  Before his wife could scream, a crimson flower bloomed on their son’s chest. He crumpled to the ground mid-dash to his father’s side.

  Ghostly silence rippled outward from those closest to the podium, to be filled moments later by screams of terror and horror. Security rushed in, using their bodies to protect the family. Or what was left of it. They clustered round Yole and his son, dragging them to what they hoped would be safety.

  Just over a mile away in a high-rise, Tess scowled as she drew away from the rifle’s scope. The first shot had been exact, but the second had been off the mark. Perhaps there’d been a shift in the air currents between shots. A burst of wind rushed in through the hole she’d cut in the window, tousling her shortish, raven-black hair as if to highlight the possibility.

  There could be any number of excuses, but what was done was done, and what was missed, missed. Next time she’d have to be more mindful, whenever that might be.

  …Although, it was still annoying.

  With a harrumph of irritation she set about breaking down her rifle, stowing the pieces away in their case. Her hands worked with practiced precision, knowing where to press and tug and pull with hardly a thought. In less than a minute the rifle had been tucked away and the case snapped shut. Duty done, she set about the second phase of the operation: The esc
ape.

  On the way out she tossed a good-bye wave to the janitor stretched out on the floor, just inside the door to the office room. A drop of crimson trickled down his forehead to a small puddle. If he’d been five minutes late to work or even taken extra time before heading up, he’d probably have been inspecting the hole in the glass, wondering where it’d come from. Such was life.

  While on the elevator down, Tess produced a pack of cigarettes from a pocket on the inside of her jacket and placed one between her lips. Tendrils of wispy smoke clung to the “No Smoking” sign. She tucked the pack away and took a long drag, blowing out a perfect ring—even blew out an arrow to shoot through the ring before the elevator came to a stop.

  On the ground floor she nodded to the receptionist, who’d likewise fallen asleep on the job. She at least had the courtesy to sit upright, though the nylon straps might’ve been helping on that front. Any other election and the body would’ve been found out even before Tess had a chance to rig the corpse, but other than a handful of people who’d not been let off the job for the day, the building was empty.

  Outside, the panic had set in. Sirens wailed and police cars zoomed by. Roadblocks would be going up soon, if they weren’t being set up already.

  They’re faster than I expected, she thought, scowling at another police car racing by, its siren echoing off the tall steel and glass buildings lording above the asphalt. At a break in the rush of vehicles, she crossed to the parking garage.

  She stowed the case away in a hidden compartment underneath the passenger seat and hopped in. With an angry rumble the engine in her two-seater sports car came alive. Black, of course, as it was her favorite color. Tess revved the engine a few times, enjoying the way the growling noise tore and bounced around in the concrete complex. Even a dull lump of metal could come alive when possessed by the spirit of fire.

  As she pulled onto the streets, her phone rang, the dashboard display showed the number. Tess smirked.

  News travels so fast these days!

  It wasn’t all that long ago it’d have taken until at least an hour before he found out. Looking back a hundred years ago, it may have even taken an entire day. How things changed.