Daughter of Treason Ch. 06

The levee broke; Shino, content that Kei was alright, did what he so yearned to: he let go. Seizing her by the hips, he thrust up into her while pulling her down to meet him. She gasped, more in pain than anything, but he didn't pause. Like a boulder in motion, he kept going, pulling back slightly and thrusting again.

It didn't happen immediately, but at once point the gasps began to be let out as moans instead of hisses. With each thrust, the pain diminished, and the pleasure grew, until she was writhing on top of him. As the feelings reached critical mass, Shino did something entirely unexpected which pushed her over the edge.

Shino grabbed her hair.

This wasn't lovingly running his hand along her cheek, wasn't stroking her hair, this was wrapping it around his hand and pulling her head back while his free hand mauled her breast. The sudden display of brazen desire from the normally reserved Shino made her muscles clench, and the increased pressure brought her orgasm crashing down.

As she moaned out her ecstasy, Shino appeared to be nearing a finish of his own. His thrusts, which had been shallow, uncontrolled before, shifted to long and deep. His face held an expression of such intense lust that it looked like the face of a stranger. As she clenched around him, the thrusts picked up in speed, and before she could even come down from the first high, the feeling of the head of his manhood pushing into her set her well on her way to a second one.

After a few minutes, the thrusts became shallow, his breathing came in quick gasps, and she knew he was close. That thought drove her to yet higher heights of pleasure. When he stiffened, when she felt his head swell inside her, when she felt a flood of warmth inside her, she lost control. The second orgasm, more intense than the first, was no extremely satisfying.

As the two lovers shuddered and gasped, the world seemed to stand still, and when they collapsed in a heap of limbs, the thought ran through her head, This is going to be a good day.

<<<<<Malefactum malefactoribus beneficiumque bonis face>>>> >

Kei watched her accomplice stroll into the guardhouse from her perch in a nearby alleyway. From her distance, she could not hear voices, but through the window she noted that his reception was cool. He looked over at the window for just a moment, looking, perhaps, for reassurance, but the bright interior made his night vision too weak to penetrate the shadows she surrounded herself with. After a few moments, he moved on, and she sprung into action.

She darted along the cobblestones, crouched low, and slid up against the guardhouse. Uncoiling a rope from her shoulder, she drew out a grappling hook, began whirling it, and let it fly. It landed with a clatter, and Kei froze to listen for any sounds of alarm. When none came, she quickly began scaling the wall of the south corner, swung herself over to a darkened window, and grabbed onto the bars. Pulling a flask out of her pouch, she removed the stopper and gently tipped it, dribbling its contents onto the obstruction.

The acid hissed as it did its work on the rusted iron, weakening it and, on one bar, eating through it entirely. Grateful for her gloves, she grabbed the bars, one by one, and pulled. Some gave only with effort, some snapped immediately, and soon there was a human-sized hole in the bars.

The window, still intact, presented a barrier; although more fragile than the bars, the sound of the weakened iron breaking was muffled by the stone wall and, more importantly, the glass window. There were, however, fewer barriers to keep the sound of a window breaking from reaching the interior of the building. But that was fine; Kei had a plan to get inside which didn't involve smashing any glass.

Or so she thought. When three minutes passed without a peep from her accomplice, she began to grow nervous. These jitters were doubled when a large group of men, some in guard uniform but most not, came into view, heading for the guardhouse. She pressed herself against the window, but knew full well that the moon was once again back lighting her position, and this time her knees stuck out in front of her, thus forcing her figure out of the building's outline; an easy irregularity to notice.

It was too late to jump out, for the movement would surely draw attention, and the ground below was lit by the moon. Furthermore, the sound of a window breaking would also cause a commotion, though it would give her someplace to duck into. It was up to her to decide whether it'd be worse to get the attention from shattering glass or from staying put. Ultimately, her hesitation made the decision for her, and the men passed, too intent on their merriment and destination to notice.

She breathed a sigh of momentary relief, but a single danger passed did not mean safety; she waited with increasing agitation as the minutes crept by until, finally, she heard a tap at the glass. By that time she was wound so tightly that she almost jumped out of her skin, but it was just Thomas, her accomplice, at the window, as planned.

He let her in, and she, showing what was in her opinion great restraint, asked, "What took you so long?"

"Sorry, I got held up."

"I gathered that. By what?"

"There's a... party, going on, downstairs. I got roped into helping."

He looked pained; something was up. "And? What's so bad about this? It gives you an alibi."

"It... the entertainment for the part. They're girls."

A pause. The word 'interesting' can carry a variety of meanings, associations, and implications, depending on context, the speaker, and the tone. One might, for instance, utter a lighthearted 'interesting' in response to learning something new, or a somber 'interesting' after bad news. Avaricious 'interesting's can follow learning of an unguarded money purse, but sometimes, in the right contexts, an 'interesting' is more than speculation, worse than omen, and kin to accusation; it is condemnation. "Interesting."

Thomas hesitated. "Uh, okay..."

"Do you think," Kei asked slowly, "our original plan will still work?"

"I don't see why not. I just-"

"Good. There will be no changes on your end until after I knock out Greye. After, I'll ask you to carry him to a rendezvous where I will relieve you of him. Understood?"

He shifted restlessly; this represented a substantial departure from the plan, and effectively ruined his alibi. "But what if someone sees me? What would I tell them?"

"To mind their own business." She waved her hand dismissively. "Stick to the alleys and no one will notice. Do you understand the plan?" Reluctantly, he nodded. "Good. Give me your papers." Slowly, he extended an envelope, which she took quickly. "Good. Let us begin."

Without waiting for a response, she opened the door to the hall and motioned Thomas through. He went, hesitantly, and she drew her rapier and concealed it in her cloak. He went through, turned, swallowed, and knocked on the door of Lieutenant Greye.

A pause, then an irritated, "Yes?"

"Uh, it's me, sir. I wanted to talk with you?"

"Can it wait?"

Thomas looked at Kei, who shook her head. "No, sir. Now would be better."

A pause. "Fine, come on in."

Thomas reached for the door, and Kei whispered, "Remember, move to the right side of the room." He nodded, opened the door, and went through.

Kei followed after him, and as he moved right, she proceeded to the left side of the room at a brisk walk. Greye glanced at Thomas. "Who's thi- urk!"

That distraction, looking far enough away from her to put her only in his periphery, was all she needed to put her rapier to his throat. "Don't move."

He narrowed his eyes, looking into hers. "You won't get away with this." When she didn't respond, he reiterated, "One word from me, and the guards come running."

"Then you'll keep silent if you want to keep your throat. Thomas, the papers, please."

"Uh, I'm not really sure about th-"

"The papers, please."

Slowly, looking at no one, Thomas withdrew the packet of papers and put them on the desk in front of Greye. He looked at them. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Sign."

"What do you hope- agh."

She pressed the rapier against him, and its tip cut into his flesh. She repeated, "Sign."

Reluctantly, Greye picked up a quill, dipped it in an inkwell, and signed his name. When he made to pause, she prompted, "The others, too."

He sighed. She didn't let up until he resumed his work, though his eyes poured over the letters and forms. "A transfer request? To headquarters?" He looked at Thomas. "There are easier ways to get ahead. I know, I've offered them."

"Silence, please."

He finished authorizing the papers then, at her direction, placed them towards the middle of his 'outgoing' stack when he said, "This won't work, you know."

"Silence, please."

"I'll just take the orders out again after you leave."

Sterner, "Silence."

"In fact, it's so obvious that I'm surprised you even-"

"Silence!" He was coming close to the inconvenient realization that he was not going to be released, and she did not like the idea of the panic it would bring on.

But he did not panic. Instead, he grew still. "Why? Are you afraid I'll do something stupid? Something like shouting, GUARDS, GUA-"

She leaned into the rapier, and it pierced his throat, the sound muffled into a quiet gurgle.

Kei stared at Greye, who was leaning back in his chair, one hand trying ineffectually to staunch the flow of blood. The action had been automatic; Greye had been about to scream, and screaming was unacceptable. Therefore, she had removed the means by which he would scream. In doing so, however, she had derailed her ultimate purpose, namely, his capture and interrogation. As his face grew pale and breathing slowed, then stopped, all she could think was, What am I going to do now?

The immediate answer was clear enough; she had to find some way to make Thomas seem blameless. Though she could no longer extract information from Greye, Thomas could still function as an informant. But to do that, he had to appear innocent, or at least harmlessly guilty. "how much money do you have on you?"

"Wha-?"

"How much?"

He stammered. "A few gold is all, buh... you killed him!"

"It'll have to do. Hold it out in front of you."

"Wha...?"

"Hold it out in front of you, as if offering it to Greye."

"As if..." His eyes widened. "Are you framing me for bribing him?"

"Yes."

He looked at Greye's corpse. "Well," he said, drawing out a money purse and holding it out, "better bribery than murder..."

"Hold still." She moved behind him, ignored his flinch as she raised her sap, and brought it down on his head. It wasn't clean, but a concussion would make her entry seem more forced. Still, it wasn't enough...

Moving back to Greye, she briefly contemplated ransacking the desk to make it look like a robbery, but her strike to the neck was far too precise for that. And besides, what thug would target the guards? This was obviously an assassination. Well, then, time to take credit.

She considered carving the symbol of the Judge into Greye's chest, but dismissed the idea as overly dramatic. Besides, she already had established a Modus Opperandi. Fetching a quill and parchment from the desk, she wrote: "Attention, Employees of the City Watch:

"You, who have been charged with upholding the law and protecting the innocent, have been failing your duty. Taking bribers, while deplorable, can be overlooked, and is so your own affair. However," The captured quill stilled over the pilfered paper. She had already discounted the bribe. What, then, would she charge them with? A fact, recently learned, came to mind. Two birds with one stone...

"However," she wrote, "your use of human chattel is unacceptable. Not only is the act abominable in its own right, but it is made all the more damning when considered with your mission, namely, the protection of the rights of law-abiding citizens. Those responsible must be punished.

"Although the network of support for this practice extends to many others, both Lieutenant Greye and the guests he invited had unequivocally complete knowledge of this practice. Their lives are forfeit. The crimes of the rest shall be overlooked, this time. All who survive the night would do well not to attract my attention a second time.

"I will be watching."

She fished in her pouch for her signet ring, applied a liberal coating of ink to its face and pressed it to the letter, leaving the Feyuni family crest. Yes, she thought, that'll do. Placing the letter clearly on the desk and weighing it down with the dead man's hand, she gave a predatory grin. Time to make good on my promise.

As she went quietly out into the hall, she reflected that it may have been wise to wait to knock Thomas out; she could really use a guide. There was nothing to be done about it now, though. She padded down the hall, dagger out, until she came to a stairway. She turned to head down but the sound of footsteps stopped her; someone was coming up.

She pressed herself against the wall, clutching the knife. She glanced around, looking for a hiding place, but before she found any, the guard finished his ascent. She held her breath, willing him to pass, but it was not to be; his eyes flicked in her direction, and she knew she had to act. Lunging forward, she spun him around to face her, pressed her dagger to his neck, and hissed, "Don't say a word!" Her momentum pressed him against the wall in the lit hall, and she suddenly felt very exposed. Glancing around for a secluded spot, she came up as empty as before.

The man's eyes, wide with fear, darted around, weighing his chances of survival. He was regaining balance; that was bad. Hauling him away from the wall, she hissed, "Move!" and began shoving him back down the hall. The guard's fear increased as the blade bit into his neck. When they reached the end of the hall, Kei slammed him against the closet door, groped for the doorknob, found it with some effort, turned it, and let him tumble into the room.

She kicked the door closed behind her and advanced on the guard, who was scrabbling away. He was too terrified to scream, so she took her time, treading slowly and carefully, keeping pace with the guard's clumsy movements. In a few moments, he had his back to the windowsill. She casually propped her leg up on it, dagger dangling easily at her side. "You," she said quietly, "are going to answer my questions. You will be honest, and you will speak quietly. You will follow all my instructions if you want to last the night. Do you understand?" The man issued a shaky nod, and she grinned beneath her mask. "Good. Let us begin."

The interrogation went quickly and smoothly, lubricated by intimidation. She asked, and he answered, questions ranging from the floor plan a story below to the disposition of the men therein, and his reason for employment in the City Watch. When she was finished, she paused. He was helping the party, but based on his answers, he didn't have much of a choice. His actions might not be justified, but she would spill enough blood this night to be sated, and so was feeling lenient.

"You have answered my questions adequately, and because of this, I will let you live." He gave a choked sob of relief, but she leaned in, dagger held high. "But your choice of career is treading a thin line. You are not partaking in this evening's festivities; that has saved you tonight, but I may not always have to deal with matters pressing. You would do well to gain some decency if you don't want to find my blade at your throat again. I will not be so merciful next time. Now, stand up and face the window."

Once he was knocked out, she re-stowed her blackjack and slipped back into the hall once more. She padded down the hall and paused again at the stairway. Once she descended, she would be committed. It was reported that there were between two and five men, all with line of site on the entrance. There would be no stealth, and no time for hesitation. Taking a deep breath, she drew another dagger and began moving.

She started quietly; the further she got without attention, the bigger her advantage. As she neared the bottom, she got a view of the foyer; two well-dressed men sat in a couch on the left, while a third skinny one leaned against the wall, opposite. A rotund figure occupied the chair on the far side of the room, next to a door reported to lead into the main hall.

Ideally, she would take out the farthest one first, but at this range, she didn't think she could reliably hit his neck with a dagger. Again she hesitated, hoping for a plan, and again her hand was forced. The skinny man looked her way; if she wanted to keep the element of surprise, she had to move now. This was not a conscious thought. Far from it, what went through her head can be succinctly summed up by any one of a series of expletives. Her body, however, knew what to do and her plan, though incomplete, was put into action.

She darted forward, and was upon the men on the sofa before they could react. Slashing across the neck of the first brought the same hand in position to plunge the dagger deep into the neck of the second. Leaving her left hand's dagger where it was, she turned upon the skinny man and swung her right in a wide arc. He ducked, which bought him half a second before, his back to the wall, he was shoved down further. Forcibly bending his head further, Kei intended to finish him with a strike between the vertebrae.

Although she missed her mark, the adrenaline and full force of her arm did the job nicely; the tip of the blade caught a recess of the bone and, under so much force, broke it. Though the dagger plunged safely to the side, the bone shard cut the spinal cord quite neatly.

As the man went limp, Kei rose and began to stalk towards the fat man, frozen in shock. The shuffling of shoes behind her caused her to turn just in time to see a guard's knife thrusting towards her chest. A brutal hack down deflected the blow, disarming him. The follow up slash across the throat was as reflexive as the parry. Turning back to her quarry as the guard slumped to the ground behind her, she crossed the room in four long paces and put the knife to the fat man's throat right as he let out a squeak. As three men lay gurgling behind her, she asked disinterestedly, "What are you waiting for?"

The only response the terrified man could muster was, "My turn."

Her knife moved, the man fell, and as one more body was added to the pile, she said to the dying room, "Wrong answer."

Footsteps from the door drew her attention, but she was not thinking; this had become another dance, one in which her body moved on its own, a flawless puppet to dark intent. Moving behind the path of the door, she waited for it to open, endured the confused, "Y'all alright? I thought I heard-" then slammed the door against the speaker, paused a moment to let him trip on the body of the fat man, shut the door and fell upon him.

The first stab missed the heart, instead puncturing a lung, but the weight of her impact, particularly after his own tumble, was enough to knock the wind out of him. The second strike was aimed, and fifteen seconds later, the man was dead, a dagger wound in the middle of his chest.

Kei stood, wiped the dagger on one of the seated men's finery, and listened. When no commotion was forthcoming, she gave a small smile of satisfaction. Good. That will make this next part easier.

The great hall was a vast room, but tonight was partitioned into several small cubbies by heavy blankets, strung up to act as curtains. Grunts, the sound of flesh on flesh, and the occasional rattle of a chain could be heard. Kei selected her first target carefully; the sobbing in the adjacent enclosure would cover her activities, prompting Kei to start towards the middle. Slipping in through the curtain, she was greeted by the view of a sweaty back and a small pair of legs sticking out from the sides.