For a few seconds I'm too shocked to even respond. How the hell does he know who I am? I've been made, and now I'm going to have to kill this kid before I even get the chance to ask about those nasty bruises. My body snaps into a defensive crouch and I ready myself to spring.
"Your Swedish accent was terrible by the way." He laughs to himself.
When he turns to see my reaction he looks resolved to his fate, as if he's ready to die. This has literally never happened to me. No mark has ever been prepared to die or guessed what I was about to do. This is fucking up my game plan.
I pause, hunched and ready to spring, and watch his face as he studies my eyes. He's not pleading, or trembling in fear, or wetting himself, in fact he's eerily calm, just observing my face passively.
"Alright, what the fuck?" I ask, relaxing from my pose and standing up. "How do you know who I am, or what I'm here to do? I could be here because I've secretly been stalking you."
"Well, you have been." He responds, looking as if that should be obvious.
"OK, bad example!" I snap back in disbelief. "But I could be here to date-rape you or something."
"But you're not." He says, perfectly clam.
"No, I'm not." This guy is messing with my head now. "But how could you possibly know who I am?"
"You're right, I have no idea who you are." He says, a faint smile creeping back onto his lips. "Shall we start over? You're clearly not Swedish. I'm Gideon, and you are?"
I hesitate, unsure of what this guy's trying to do. Is he attempting to delay the inevitable? Does he think if he keeps me talking he can somehow weasel his way out of dying?
"Look," Gideon sighs reading my uncertainty, "I'm not trying to stall you, or interfere with what you're here to do. I just wanted to know your name."
"You're freaking me out!" I explode my eyes narrowing to slits as my face tightens in frustration. "How do you know all this? What the hell is going on?"
"You're here to kill me and make it look like an accident right?" He asks cautiously. "I'm not sure why you were talking in a Swedish accent, but I'm not really one to critique someone's assassin skills."
I snap my mouth closed at this and evaluate him a little closer. Gideon knows more than any human should about me and what I'm here to do. In fact, he looks ok with my assignment. There doesn't seem to be any ulterior motives, or calculated moves, just a man ready to meet his fate.
This is really fucking with me.
"Who made you the expert on Swedish accents?" I finally blurt out.
"Swedish Chef from The Muppets, right?" He asks with that shy grin that melted the librarian the other day.
I nod yes.
"Yeah, the Swedish Chef's accent is Norwegian. Not a lot of people know that." He says with a chuckle, his green eyes softening as he watches my indignant response.
"Well, not a lot of people know about us." I sputter. "So...there."
"So there." He repeats evenly. "Are we going to get on with this? It's not that I'm excited to die, I was just under the impression that this was a faster process."
"I'm actually not supposed to talk to my marks." I tell him unsure of why I feel the need to be honest with this guy. "I just wanted to..."
"Wanted to what?" He asks, his eyebrow raising into his floppy hairline.
"To get to know you." I finish.
Even saying the words out loud sounds ridiculous. I should be killing this man right now. No questions asked. No stupid Swedish accents or false pretenses. This is messy.
This is stupid.
"Why?" He turns back to the window to stare out into the inky black beyond. "What's the point?"
"I...I wanted to know what you did to get on our list and I want to know about those gnarly bruises." I reply.
I figure I have nothing to lose by being honest at this point. I could lunge at any second and he knows that, and Gideon's not going anywhere, obviously.
"They don't tell you the crimes we commit?" He asks, taking me surprise yet again.
How the hell does he know so much about the Dark Angel program?
"So you just kill people, no questions asked?" Gideon turns back around a look of confusion marring his handsome face.
He's not handsome! He's a mark. A criminal. Nothing more!
"You're the first time I've ever...done this." I tell him, angry that it looks like he's silently judging me.
How could this kid judge me and what I do? I'm not the criminal here!
But then again...is he?
"So," I begin, watching his eyes as they meet mine, "what did you do?"
"Will that make killing me easier?" He asks this time with another wary smile.
"Yes." I answer with a cool nod.
I wonder if he's thinking this is as crazy as I do?
"I killed my step-father." He answers, his voice suddenly flat and his eyes cold.
"And?" I ask unable to believe that this guy is deserving of assassination-by-vampire for offing his step-dad.
Usually we get higher profile stuff than this.
"You might have heard of him?" Gideon says, his face amused now at whatever information he's hinting at. "He's Charles Yormick?"
Why is that damn name so familiar?
"The Secretary of State?" He presses.
"Oh shit!" A lightbulb goes on in my brain and I want to slap my forehead.
That's how I know that name! That guy's been all over the news. Charles Yormick died a few days ago of an apparent suicide at the height of his career.
He seemed like a slimy bastard to me. He had a weird 'Arian nation' appearance with wispy blonde hair and dead blue eyes. He's the kind of politician you would expect to look the other way when it could possibly further his career or help his position on the ladder.
"That was your dad?!" I ask, finally understanding why it is I'm here to kill this kid.
"Step-dad." He spits back. "And now you have your answer for the bruises."
"He did that?" I ask quietly pointing at Gideon's mid-section.
"He's done worse." Gideon responds his eyes downcast. "He was a very bad man."
"So you killed him?" I'm trying to imagine the epic fight that had resulted in murder.
"I killed him because I was tired of it!" Gideon explodes suddenly, surprising both of us.
He looks at me sheepishly for a moment, as if he's embarrassed to show that much emotion. He sinks into the huge leather chair where I'd watched him read. His face is cradled in his hands and he's running his fingers through his chestnut hair.
"Tired of what?" I ask in a low voice.
"Tired of the abuse. Of the beatings." Gideon's lip is trembling dangerously now and I wonder if this is something he's wanted to get off his chest for while. "That man beat the shit out of me until I went away to college. The second I was gone, he turned on my mom. And I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't watch him destroy her."
"Did she know about the abuse?" The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.
"No and Charlie was very careful to not leave marks where people might see them." Gideon snorts at this as if it's some kind of inside joke. "My mom never knew. But when I went home this summer, I knew. I could see her hiding her arms under long sleeves, the looks of shame, the flinches every time Charlie would slam a cupboard. I knew."
"Does your mother know you killed him?"
"I don't think so." Gideon answers slowly, looking pensive now. "He beat her so bad she ended up in the hospital. She said she fell on the stairs. Abuse victims always select from the same four or five stories. So I flew home to see her and then...it just happened. Something just snapped, and I had to stop it."
I don't say anything, instead just letting the words tumble around in the air around us. Gideon seems grateful to have someone to listen to his last confession. Little does he know that I am changing my mind with every revelation. But he's seen me, and he knows we exist...I can't just walk away now.
"How do you know about us?" I ask him, switching gears to pull him out of the dark memories he's falling into.
An ironic smile spreads across Gideons face now, and for the first time, he looks smug.
"Wow, they really don't tell you guys anything do they?" He asks, his bright green eyes locking on mine.
"Careful," I growl back, "that's not the way to stop me from killing you."
"I accept my fate." Gideon says with a shrug. "I did it. I'm guilty. I killed the bastard. But to answer your question, Gavriel and Charlie used to have clandestine meetings at our house when they thought everyone was asleep. My bedroom was directly above Charlie's office, and I could hear their whispers through the vent. At first I thought it was some kind of joke, but after a while I got curious and started looking through Charlie's files. Turns out, my step-dad and Gavriel have been working together for years."
"Working together?" I'm totally confused now.
"It would seem that Charlie had a lot of friends in high places that he needed to get out of the way in order to ascend to his current office. In exchange for Gavriel's help, Charlie was funneling money into the Dark Angel program. Two parasites in a mutually beneficial arrangement.
"And before you ask how I know so much, Charlie has a safe in his office with documents. He keeps them as a backup in case Gavriel or somebody were to double cross him."
I'm too stupefied to even answer at this point. If what this kid is saying is true, then there's something far bigger than this job going on.
For the first time in my career, I'm asking questions.
Author's Note
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