The Puppet Assassin [TTR sequel]

The Puppet Assassin - Ch 7 [talk -|- dizelde]

"Is it just Dizelde?"

Why was my name so important to him? "No. I have a last name."

"What is it?" He refused to let it go. Damn him.

He would hear my last name and it would cause him to react the way everyone else did. Beaumont was automatically linked to the serial killer, my father. Scythe had told me all I needed to know about what my father did as a pastime. And every time someone learned my last name they would suddenly see me as devil's spawn. Scythe was the only one who had reacted differently and I still didn't know whether I loved or hated him for it.

"I'm Dizelde Beaumont."

He nodded and that was all.

He turned away again and reopened the refrigerator. "Thirsty?"

That was it? Was he holding himself back? Or was he just ignorant when it came to news?

He took his head out the fridge and cocked a brow in question.

I blinked slowly, trying to draw myself away from befuddlement, and shook my head, no, as my answer.

He frowned and pulled a few items from the fridge. I heard the sound of liquid being poured. He turned back to me and walked over with two large cups of water, sitting one in front of me before taking a seat across from me.

"I didn't-"

He raised his hand to stop me midsentence. "When you are dehydrated, your thirst mechanism switches off. So, by saying that you're not thirsty means that you either drank recently, are in the need of fluids or are too polite to ask for a drink. Seeing as you just ran up a tree, I'm going to guess it's one of the latter. Drink up, puppet."

How had he managed to turn my shake of the head into some kind of dire water deficiency? And what had he called me?

"Puppet?" I gave him a questioning look.

He smirked, drawing my attention to his lips and holding it there.

"You're easily influenced by your surroundings. Like strings draw you back and forth so that you make a change per alteration to your environment. I say something, make a move and you seem to react without meaning to. It's interesting."

This guy had known me for how long? And how had that stupid explanation sounded intelligent? How could have anything intelligent come from that brain?

He was watching me carefully, clearly entertained. I quickly switched to my emotionless mask. This guy was far more sharp and aware that I had presumed.

"So, who ARE you?" he said in a way that didn't quite sound directed at me.

I had already told him my full name. With that information, if he remembered anything about the Beaumont, Leandre the Lucky, he would know more about me than either Luke or Garth.

He rested his elbows on the table. I leaned further back into my chair and took a small sip of the chilled water.

"Where have you been since that day you were found in your father's basement?" His eyes were intently staring through mine as if he was reading my mind like pages of a book.

So he DID know. Then why wasn't he giving me wary, disgusted or pitying looks? Was he hiding it from me?

"Dizelde?"

It seemed that he wanted my life story. There was no way I could go through all that. But Garth had said that I could tell Larkin. So I said, "I've been training as an assassin in a complex on the outskirts of Carlow."

He barely blinked. Once again I got a short nod as if it was just another thing he filed away like it was regular.

"What is with you?" I asked finally.

His eyebrows rose high on his forehead. "What am I doing that's weird?"

I let out a rush of air in a frustrated sigh. "You're not... reacting. Don't the things that I'm telling you seem odd? Don't you have a reaction after hearing my full name? And I know you know who my father is! How can you not make a comment on that?"

Still he showed me nothing but a smirk. "What reaction do you want?" His voice was soft and calm. I had to shift forward to hear him clearly. "Do you want me to say 'I feel for you' or 'poor, poor you'? Or did you want me to back off, grossed out from being in the same room as a serial killer's daughter? Did you want me to scream at you for who your father was? Ask you what it was like to live with a murderer for three years? Too bad, puppet, you'll have to get over the way I've reacted."

I gaped at him silently. Boy, I'd misjudged this guy completely. Luckily I didn't have to say anything in return as I heard the front door open.

Larkin leant back, linking his fingers behind his head.

"Garth, Luke! Kitchen!" he called out. I felt nerves jitter in my stomach, increased by Larkin's calm stare. Here came my interrogation. I wasn't completely sure if I'd be able to tell them much of what happened at the complex, my psychological training too strong.

Luke entered the room first, his expression irritated and he seemed more worn out than he had when he'd dropped me off. Hopefully he would need sleep and therefore keep this short. Garth followed him in, his eyes on Larkin and obviously amused.

"Sure you don't want to put some ice on that face, Lark?" he asked with a straight face.

Larkin didn't even acknowledge Garth's baiting, a small smile on his face as he stood up to give Luke a man hug. I'd studied these over the years after one of the girl trainees had talked to her friend about the different hugs between men and women. The men often kept a hand or arm between them as the other arm squeezed the friend's body, as if they didn't want their bodies to touch completely. And it was quick, their attention quickly switching to something else as the released each other. Men were weird.

"You're lucky she didn't break it, among other things," Luke remarked.

Larkin glanced at me. "I've heard. Assassin? Next time give me a little warning. Coach'll kill me if I miss training due to injury. We've got a charity game on Saturday."

"Charity game? Against who? Do I get a ticket?"

"Kerry."

Luke whistled. "So? Tickets?"

Garth cleared his throat noisily. Both Luke and Larkin glared at him.

"It's charity, man. Buy some. Buy twenty."

Luke sighed. "Fine." And then switched his attention to me. They all did. Garth's piercing stare, Larkin's relaxed but aware appraisal and Luke's powerful gaze. My heart skittered with worry. These men were dangerous.