"There are no wrong turnings. Only paths we had not known we were meant to walk."
Number Fourteen
It was weird.
Krad eyed the brightly lit alleys and the bustling streets, intrigued and puzzled at the same time as Anna – a girl of mere seventeen years – chattered about her few fond memories of her recently deceased father. Her eyes were red from crying, and despite the impossibility, they even got worse as soon as he handed over the blue gift to his target's daughter. Even her mother could not stop her tears as she listened to Krad's invented stories regarding her husband.
Hacking Creed's Intel of the man was easy; he made sure the breach would not be traced back to him or his IP address. Because of his thorough study of his target, not to mention his stalking episode of a few days, he could pretend to have known the man for years. Both daughter and wife bought his story – that he specifically travelled to New York from Vegas just to deliver his dear friend's last wish – a gift to his beloved daughter.
That's when the waterworks started.
Krad couldn't understand even a bit of what's happening around him. He couldn't comprehend why these people sitting with him in his rented limousine were crying this badly. Could a single man really garner this kind of reaction?
His target didn't deserve his family's affection; he was evil. He was killing people. He was helping others kill people. Innocent people. Anna and her mother shouldn't grieve. They should rejoice and be thankful he's gone. Krad did the world a favor, a huge favor. Safety and security.
So what's the matter with this people?
The entire time, he felt like an actor on stage. Always pretending, never fitting in. He imagined himself in their position. What if he lost a relative? Someone close and cherished? Someone he looked up to? Would he cry? Would he regret not spending more time with him or her?
He couldn't visualize it. He had no family. He couldn't remember his father and mother. He had no idea whether he had siblings. He never had any parental guidance or a figure he could treat as one. There were always the agents with him and his trainer, but they were dispensable; he wouldn't blink an eye at their demise. All he knew was that he was trained to finish missions. He existed to accomplish his assignments. He had a manual to follow, an order to issue, and filth to clean. There was nothing more.
He lived to serve the Master.
Was there something else for him?
He was nothing but a tool, an instrument for the greater good of mankind. There was nothing more fulfilling than that, right? Then why did he feel discontented? Why was it as if he lost something vital? What was it he's missing?
Before he killed his target back in Vegas, he felt something stir in him. It was merely a spark, but it was definitely there. Something he knew that would fill in the void. He didn't know what it was or what caused it. All he knew was that it was triggered by the man's fondness for his daughter.
It was the reason why he was here in New York. He wanted to know more about it. Maybe Anna held the answer. Even if she didn't, it wouldn't matter; at least he tried. After all, he loved challenges. He liked solving puzzles. He wouldn't stop even if he had to put his life on the stake.
It was an obsession.
"Oh Daniel, are you sure about this?" Mrs. Adamson asked as they stepped out of the limousine. He tilted his head in response to his fake name. They were right in front of a luxurious hotel. "I don't feel at ease at all...maybe I should head back."
Krad smiled in a placating manner, something he perfected in front of a mirror. "Don't worry Daisy. Harry had a few friends here. He wanted you to come. You also need a change of ambience. The funeral had been agonizing for everyone, most of all you."
"Yes, I understand," the woman stammered, "but a party of this level is too much. And my eyes are swollen from crying – "
Krad took her daughter, Anna, by the waist and inclined his head to the valet as he interrupted Mrs. Adamson's rambling. "Don't worry. I have everything prepared. Just enjoy the night. Also, it's a masquerade party. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourselves."
"As for you," he grinned to the dark-haired girl in his arms, "I heard that you also like this boy band from UK. If I'm not mistaken, they're invited in this party. Who knows, you might get to meet them."
His casual shrug fished a small shriek from the tall teenager. "Really? You mean, Louis is here? And Zayn? And Liam, Harry and Niall? They're all here?!"
Krad only chuckled, replicating the response he saw other guys do when girls seemed hysterical about something. "Yes."
Soon, they were ushered inside and he told them to meet him in the party hall as soon as they finished fixing themselves. The two were surprised that he had a whole team of stylists waiting for them. Krad only shrugged at the issue of how much the session caused.
An hour later, he entered the party hall wearing an Egyptian death mask with two lovely women on his arms.
*
He shouldn't have come.
He could have accomplished more sleeping inside his room.
The manual was right. Mingling with commoners was nothing but a waste of time. It should only be used to gather data if a background study was incomplete in the database. The carefree lifestyle these people lived disgusted him.
With his extra sharp hearing, he could clearly hear the conversations about him. Some were small talks about relatives and friends and updates on their lives. Then there were those who showed off. Status, properties, money, flirting, sex. The beauty of the decorations adorning the hall was a complete mirror of the superficiality of the people inside.
If only they knew what was happening among the shadows...
It was then that Krad first saw her, a dainty figure of a blonde in stunning red high-neck gown. She was sitting by herself on a couch leveled up on a small pedestal, and it was obvious by her posture that she wasn't someone to mess with. She had an air of grace and elegance around her. The black Venetian mask covering her face only added to the impression that she's different from the rest.
Among all the guests – the women in particular – she was the only one without a companion.
Krad wondered how big was the possibility that she came to this function without a date or if the guy in question abandoned her. The second was close to nil; no one sane would leave a woman like that. She was dressed nobly yet alluringly, showing nothing but her bare arms yet the sensual curve of her body was enough to tease any man within sight. He noticed men sneaking glances at her when their partners were not looking. It made him curious how bigger her impact would be if she wasn't wearing a mask. Was her face as nice as her body?
Her quiet dignity was something, he added to his growing list of the girl's attributes. She had placed wine and food on her sides to ensure no one would sit beside her. She even acted as if the guys around her were nonexistent. The nerves of the woman!
He wondered whether she was searching or waiting for someone. It was unusual for a person to scan the room with intensity such as hers.
Krad burrowed his brows as he looked around, alarmed for the first time.
No, she wasn't alone. He noticed a few others watching the event too with a bit too much interest than normal. Security guards? Troublemakers? He couldn't care less, as long as he's not involved. But he did wonder...
Before he realized it, he was slowly making his way towards the lady in red. He was curious. Intrigued. He wondered whether she was as interesting as he made her to be, or his imagination was simply getting too much a bit ahead of him.
"Daniel! Oh my god, I finally found you!" squealed Anna who suddenly appeared in front of him. He was startled; was he too lost in thought to not notice her presence? It was the first time someone managed to surprise him. He found it to be an unsettling feeling. And he didn't like it. "I thought you left us here and –"
"Are you okay?" he said tersely. She smelled like alcohol. To his sensitive nose, it was repulsive. "You're still underage. Why are you drinking?"
She laughed. "Zayn offered me a glass. Gosh, of course I can't refuse him!"
"Where's your mother?"
"Somewhere, somewhere," she giggled like an idiot. Under her mask, he saw her eyes narrow slightly. "You know, I think this green gown you got for me doesn't match me. I look like a walking tree!"
True, but he lied. "You look good in it."
Krad didn't know why, but he liked the mixture of green and brown. Brown is warm. Green is relaxing. His attachment to those colors was one of the few things he had as a keepsake of his identity – of his humanity – something that his brutal training didn't get away from him.
Maybe it had to do with nature, or the forest, or something from his forgotten past.
"Really huh? Do you find me attractive?" She was slurring.
"Yes," he sighed. "It looks lovely – the color suits you."
She mumbled under her breath as she picked a glass of vodka from a passing tray.
"Stop that," Krad ordered in a low hiss. She flinched, but was too smashed to understand why the guy in front of her was irritated. Heck, now I'm babysitting? "Come on. Let's go outside. You look kind of pale. Fresh air might help you."
He could only shake his head as he steadied the drunken girl. Unconsciously, he checked on the woman in red gown. He froze when the lovely seductress abruptly stood up and yanked her mask off, revealing the greenest eyes he had ever remembered seeing. In a manner of seconds, he watched as the enchanting blonde half-ran towards the exit, a beautiful image of an angel before destruction.
Soon after, a handful of suspicious-looking individuals made a move. If Krad wasn't trained, he wouldn't notice their reaction from the crowded hall. But tonight, he was sharp. He was looking at the blonde, noticed them looking at the blonde, and saw that they were silently communicating with each other. He knew where to look when he knew what to look for.
He found it, the thing to fill in the emptiness in him.
Challenge.
They filed out one by one, a couple of minutes in between, and then they were gone. Probably after the blonde if Krad's intuition was correct. He was always correct.
He smiled like a predator.
Normally, he had a thing for brunettes, but for her, he'd make an exception. The woman was someone hunted by danger; he could feel it in his marrows. She would be his entertainment for tonight.
He sought Anna's mom and gave them instructions – handed them the phone to call the driver of the limousine for when they're ready to leave. He hurriedly excused himself by saying that something important came up and raced after the green-eyed beauty.
Let's see how far you can keep me interested, baby.
*
Krad wasn't disappointed.
A lot of things didn't match up, and he loved the enigma Blondie in red presented to him.
In a plain black Toyota, she drove all the way from Manhattan to Downtown Brooklyn, then after a tedious stalking through the maze of zigzags and narrow streets, they finally arrived at Prospect Park. He couldn't imagine what a woman who wore 24-carat jewelry would do in a place like this in such an unholy hour. He couldn't even believe how recklessly she drove. Was that car even hers? It made him wonder if she's drunk. The manual said that people do unlikely things when they are under the spell of something – in her case, probably alcohol.
Did she know he was following? No, that couldn't be the case. Them. She probably knew that some of the guests in the party were after her.
He monitored the individuals in pursuit of Blondie. They were driving closely behind her. Amateurs. That kind of distance would easily give their purpose away! Really, what kind of group would employ people of that caliber?
He kept a low profile as he closed in, his black motorcycle silently purring under him.
Krad found it exciting. He could feel the rush of adrenaline in his bloodstream, making him high. It was like watching an action movie firsthand. He couldn't help but grin as he imagined the why's and who's and the how's.
Who are they? Why are they following the woman? Who is she? Why did they bother to track her? What will they do to her? How will they deal with her? Will they abduct her? Will they kill her? Will he interfere? Will he play with them?
When the black Toyota finally screeched to a stop, Krad decided that he should watch things unfold by foot. A motorcycle would be too noticeable. He is a professional agent, unlike the wannabes stalking the blonde. He knew the right things to do at the right time. He had the manual to thank for that.
Krad hoisted himself up on one of the leafy trees. It was a good spot. He could see everything from up there, and no one could see him behind the thick canopy. Not in the darkness. He was one with the night.
What is she doing?
Krad narrowed his eyes to get a better view, but her windows were darkly tinted; it was almost like a one-way mirror. He should have brought his binoculars, or better, his nanotech-enhanced lenses. He wanted to observe how the blonde would react when she sees the men gathering around her car.
His muscles tensed in anticipation.
One of the men got near enough to touch the car. Upon contact, not a sound was heard. His eyes widened in disbelief.
Was it the type of car without burglar alarms?
Suddenly, Krad was infuriated. Heck, what was the woman doing? Why wasn't she racing out of the park to save her own life? Why was she letting them approach her as if oblivious to the danger they presented? Didn't she come here to escape these men?
Don't tell me she was too drunk she fell asleep.
Krad groaned, smacking his forehead when one of the men managed to pick the lock and pulled out the sleeping figure of the blonde.
It was unbelievable.She really passed out!
He was upset.
He knew that his little show was over. He should head back to the party, or more rationally, head back to Vegas where his Master expected him to lay low. This wasn't his business. He shouldn't stick his nose in other people's business. He was a shadow. He could simply disappear –
However, he couldn't leave her alone.
I curse the hour I laid my eyes on her.
"What do you think you're doing?" he muttered darkly as he jumped from his hiding place, startling the kidnappers who immediately had guns pointed at him.
Not bad, he thought. Six versus one. He subtly jerked his hands, allowing him access to his own weapons.
"Scram, or else," one warned.
He wasn't affected, even slightly affected.
"Put the woman down before anyone gets hurt," Krad said in a casual tone, parroting a line he heard from a movie. It seemed fitting in this scenario. "I won't be responsible for your wellbeing."
Guns were fired simultaneously at him, telling him their unanimous reply. But he was ready. He quickly pulled out two silenced guns and used their customized bodies to shield himself.
These men were trained, he observed. He could judge by the ease they carry their guns and by the way they carried themselves. With that in mind, he read the pattern in their movements. Textbook-wise, they were positioned so that the man carrying Blondie was in the rear. Those who held firearms were behind the huge men who were obviously brawlers, acting as support if he decided to act foolishly.
Because they were moving by the book, Krad knew what to expect. The arm-bearers were aiming for three vital points. The brain, the heart and the kidney. All he had to do was protect those areas.
"Hey," he protested coolly, "that's dangerous you know. You could have hit me."
"Who are you?" asked the man carrying Blondie. "What do you want from us?"
"The woman."
The men were wordlessly arguing through their eyes. The oldest one nodded, shifting the small blonde in his arms.
"You can't get 00." The others tensed under his clipped voice. Clearly, he was in command. Quietly, he added, "Unless you have a death wish."
Krad let out an easy smile, tilting his head to the sides. "So what if I do?"
*
He killed no one; he didn't want to clean up after their mess.
With the men lying unconscious on the ground, he made a beeline towards the precious girl in red whom he easily picked up as if she weighted nothing. He brushed some of her hair away from her face, frowning a little.
The manual did say that civilians are to be protected.
Krad carried her back to her black Toyota and slid her in the passenger seat while he opted to drive her away from the scene. He searched through his mental catalogue of safe houses and hotels, calculating the pros and cons of each place, hesitant as to where he could deposit her until she wakes up. He couldn't leave a defenseless person fall prey to sinister forces. As weird as it sounded, he felt obliged to look after the woman. He couldn't understand it.
How did his mere game ended up like this?
How could a stranger affect him this much? What was the strange thing that attracted him to her? Yes, he was attracted. Fascinated. There was no better term for it. Just one look and he was a goner. He didn't even know her name, yet here he was risking his cover to save her. If those amateurs were connected to a big group, he would be in deep shit. If Creed finds out that he left Las Vegas, he would be put on probation. They would demote him to one of those Lower Bases who had to tag along as back-ups. He would be stripped off the privileges he's currently enjoying.
He scowled, angry at himself.
It couldn't be the looks. He had seen far too many women vying for his attention, and they didn't hold a fraction of his interest. They were resources to be used. He had never gone out of his way for anyone. He had never felt inclined to deviate from what his trainer instructed or what the manual said.
Civilians are the eyes of society. Agents must strive not to be seen.
So what was he doing? Why did he deliberately place himself in a position that would endanger his cover? Was it really for the challenge?
Before he knew it, he ended up in the Central Park.
Krad sighed, pressing his eyes close for a moment as he massaged his temples. No, it didn't make sense. What he was doing didn't make any sense at all. Ridiculous. Silly. Pointless.
He heard her mumble something incomprehensible.
His eyes popped open.
She sleeps like a baby. He couldn't help but be mesmerized by the innocence in her – her lips slightly parted, her face so peaceful. It was funny. Here he was, a man who had flawlessly killed aplenty without feeling a shred of emotion, yet because of one stranger, he allowed himself a major slip.
All because of a stranger.
What was the cause of this illogical fascination?
He didn't know the woman. All he knew was that she was a magnet for something perilous. She had a certain aura, a contradiction. After the little episode with those armed men, he had proven his hunch true. This woman wasn't just anyone. She was special.
He allowed his fingers to lightly trail her unblemished skin. It was like the insides of a rose, silky and soft and white. When she shivered, he turned up the heater, not wanting her to wake yet.
He abruptly pulled his hand back when he felt something rough – a welt.
Hidden by layers of powder was one huge scar. It started two inches above her left elbow, down, down... under her long tanned gloves. Carefully, he removed her left glove, his eyes widening as he exposed hundreds of tiny cuts. Most were old, but the number of scars was staggering even for someone like him.
He changed his opinion of the woman. Obviously, she'd been through much.
The back of his hand brushed her cheeks, recognizing the cake of make-up meticulously applied on them.
Disguise?
Cautiously, he wiped the coating with dry tissues, stopping shortly only when she stirred, but continued until he removed everything, even the fake lashes.
Suddenly, her eyes opened, the most stunning shade of green greeting him. His throat tightened at his rapid intake of air, his hand inches from her long hair.
It is her, the girl in the album.
Not a woman, a girl. A girl who looked young enough to be in middle school. A girl who stared back at him in complete bafflement, her mouth unable to produce words. A girl who made his insides twist into an uncomfortable knot.
"Nice?" Too softly for a commoner's ears, but not for Krad – he could hear her perfectly. Her voice was silken, tired, a breathy murmur of a muse.
Is she asking me if I'm nice?
Dark circles encircled her eyes, making her face look mature. She reeked of alcohol. Curiously, it didn't bother Krad as much as it bothered him when he was with Anna.
The girl lifted an unsteady hand and hesitantly traced his lips, her eyes in a daze. Without thinking, he flicked out his tongue, sucking on her finger. She froze, the cloud in her mind gradually lifting as she watched him wet her fingers one by one.
When he was done, Krad held her hand in both of his and kissed her dainty wrist, his lips hovering over her scars. The whole time, she merely gawked at him, immobile like a marble statue.
He smiled thoughtfully as he remembered her name from the album, a name fitting for someone whose beauty seemed to belong to that of the nymphs.
"Faye."
Her muscles convulsed as she let out an ear-splitting, blood-curdling scream.
*
Unedited.