I kick open the light brown wooden door with my right foot. The thing flies open and slams against the wall with a loud bang. The sound of festive flute and violin music echoes past my ears. Dances along the shells. The shouting, which should be singing, echoes through the room. They never learn and maybe that is the charm of it. The smell of beer and sweat wafts towards me at the first step I take inside. The smell of boiled potatoes and overcooked meat hangs in the air along the walls. The food, which they serve in rooms like this, is not necessarily tasty, but it is not bad either. Over the months, I have come to appreciate the food in all its imperfections. The lack of salt, the potatoes that are never fully cooked and the meat that you need a saw to cut through. It is not much but it is something.
I walk into the room full of men, food, drink and fire. I glance around the room and take in the faces of the drunken men. The glasses smashing against each other, the laughter, talk and shouting make the familiar melody of places like this. The sound is familiar, the smell is familiar and even the warmth is familiar. It took me a while to get used to these places. The fear of running into the wrong person haunted me for a long time. However, in addition to my disgust for these places and the food, the fear has disappeared with time.
My eyes go past the dozens of men. Here and there, a woman sits next to a man, often scantily dressed. There are not many women here and with good reason. Drunk men, often single or not loyal, are after certain things. I have long fled from such figures, but now I know how to use them. I walk purposefully to the table on the right and unceremoniously sit down with a group of men.
'Hello, beautiful, what a pleasant surprise,' says the beer-swilling man next to me. The man looks like he is in his late forties, has a small grey beard and his grey blond hair hangs down his face in a tangle. There is a grin on his face as he takes a sip of his, presumably not first, beer. At the table are about five other men of the same age. They all look at me with the same hungry expression. On the wooden table there is a plate full of gnawed chicken bones and dozens of empty glasses.
'Good night gentlemen,' my voice sounds over the background noise. The man next to me puts a hand on my leg and looks at me with a small grin, all men are the same.
'What a beautiful necklace, beauty,' grins the man next to me. His eyes slide down from the black onyx. I toss my black hair back over my shoulder and lean my right arm on the wooden table. I place my hand on the man's empty one.
'Thank you,' I smile. My hand goes to the necklace, grips the stone. The magic slips through my veins. It gives me courage, it gives me strength.
'Do you happen to know Liam Bumburt?' I ask the man. I look the man in his dark brown eyes and put a sweet smile on my lips. The man takes a greying sip of his beer. He really thinks he has won the first prize. He should know.
'Why is a beauty like you looking for an idiot like Bumburt? We are much nicer than that loser.' The table starts to laugh around me, but it doesn't dull my aim. Gently my finger slides over the man's hand. From under my eyelashes I look at the man smiling.
'You shouldn't let your drunken heads fall over that gentlemen. Do you know where he is?' The men take a sip of their beer, laughing. They think I'm joking but whether they like it or not, I get my answer.
'Another round!' one of the men shouts above the laughter and shouting. The man's hand, which is still on my leg, slips up a little. I look at the hand and mentally roll my eyes.
'What do I get for that information beauty? You understand that's not free,' the man next to me grins. I run a hand through my hair and then lay it on the man's cheek. His beard stings under my skin, his wrinkled skin palpable. I look into the man's eyes.
'I certainly understand that. If you give me that information, we will deal with it then.' The man grins and takes a sip of his beer. He lets his hand slide up my leg a bit more, now under my black skirt. He leans a little more in my direction, causing the smell of sweat, beer and food to fill my nostrils.
'Bumburt was here yesterday, he went to Runcast to see his mistress.' His warm breath bounces against my neck. That was exactly the information I needed. The man leans back a little and grins, waiting for his prize. However, he will never get it. Like the others, I have to disappoint him.
'And now my reward,' he grins broadly. I take my hand from his and sit up straight.
'Sorry to disturb you gentlemen, but I'm borrowing this lady for a while.' Novak's familiar hands find my shoulders. I turn my head and look into the familiar red eyes. A grin has played on his lips. Novak holds out his hand to me, gratefully I take it and step off the wooden bench. It's our well-known technique and it works every time. Men are not scary, as long as you know how to play them. The man, and everyone else at the table, have a puzzled expression on their faces.
'Hold on, that slut has a quid pro quo to settle,' the man complains. I straighten my black dress. The surprise has made way for irritation. He really thought I was going to suck his cock in a crowded tavern. The man is married, not that he cares.
'Unfortunately Jeffree, not this time.' I can't hide a small grin at Novak's words. The drunk man gets up from his seat and almost falls over. I have to stop myself from laughing. The drink he uses to forget his wife and children clearly only hits him as soon as he stands. Ooh Jeffree.
'You... you... can't stop me,' the man murmurs. Novak grabs my hand. He hasn't had to defend me for a long time and yet he does this every time. It's his way of giving me the support I used to need, an old habit.
'Very well Jeffree, or shall I tell your wife about your nights in the brothel? I think she would appreciate the stories.' The man swallows, points Novak in his direction one last time and then lets himself fall back onto the wooden bench. The men at the table look at us indignantly.
'I'll get you for this,' the man mutters, taking another swig of his beer. Novak grins contentedly and pulls me towards the bar. Although he doesn't admit it, he enjoys his new lifestyle. Our new routines are everything I didn't think my future would be as a child. Once I was what I thought I would be as a child, a married woman. Unfortunately, even that did not live up to my childlike fantasy. It was a hell, a drama, an endless tunnel of darkness. I count myself lucky that I did not turn out like my childish expectations. I am not the only one who did not turn out as he thought.
Novak was once a vampire, a traveller and a rebellious boy of twenty. Now a mage, a man of nearly 22 and a clever assassin with a wealth of knowledge stands before me. I may hate the word "assassin" but it is what others would call us. 39 Dead later, we are in this tavern. A lot has changed since then, we have changed a lot since then. That fearful insecure girl of old has been wiped out.
It all started after we left the headquarters. We left the ash-draped room and began our journey. Our journey past the 100 names on the list, the list of 100 we called it. I was anything but happy with our new plan. With enormous reluctance, we connected the Onyx to my life lines. The first murder, the first name, Giova Valin, is still with me.
'Do it, now,' Novak shouts as he tries to hold the man tight. The older grey man tries to use all his strength to escape from Novak's grip. He pulls, pushes and kicks but does not win against the red moon. I stand there staring at the man with the knife in my hand. I cannot do this, I do not want this. It took us a month to find the older man of 74, to get him away from his family and to get him for us. I keep thinking about his two children, his wife and three grandchildren. I am going to tear a family apart, change a life and take it.
'Let go of me you fool,' the man shouts as he pushes Novak an elbow into his stomach. Novak claps double and lets go of the man for a second. Giova pulls free and tries to run back to his village, looking for help. Novak is faster though, grabbing the man by his wrist and pushing him against the tree with a blow.
'Now, Cell,' Novak shouts. I look from my knife to the man. The guilt overshadows all duty. I have to do this but I can't.
'I can't,' I mutter desperately. I would rather turn around, run away and let the whole plan go. Novak grabs the man by his throat and pushes him tighter against the tree.
'You're crazy,' Giova shouts. It's all too much for me. The screaming, the violence, the fear that radiates from my husband. I don't want to become as heartless as my father. I don't want to follow him. I don't want to kill a hundred people.
'Think of Elien, think of Nora, think of Rave. You have to do this,' Novak urges me. I look again at the knife in my hand. The images of Nora lying on the ground play before my eyes. On impulse I take a few steps towards Novak and the man. Giova looks at me in panic, the wrinkles even more visible on his forehead. My heart is pounding in my throat, sweat is running down my back. All I have to do is push the knife through his heart.
'Don't do it,' the man tries. I look at the man, trying to take in his face.
'Don't listen to him, don't look at him, look at me.' I do what Novak tells me to do. With tears in my eyes I raise the knife to the man's chest. He starts to resist even more. Novak can hardly hold it. I try to keep my eyes on Novak's iron gaze. It doesn't stop me from looking at the knife once. A tear slides down my cheek to the ground.
'Now.' With those words I push the knife into the man's heart. An intense amount of energy slips into my life lines. As if I have taken drugs and they suddenly start to work. As if I have all the energy in the world. However, the fantastic feeling does not last long. I look at the man hanging lifelessly in Novak's arms. Slowly, Novak puts the man on the ground. For a moment I stare in total disbelief at the body until reality sets in. I have killed this 74 man. With that realisation, I drop to my knees next to the lifeless body, crying.
That is how it all began.