Cameo the Assassin (18 page)

“Bel, would you check on Kyrian? He’s a bit roughed up. He could stand some food and your old set of clothes.”

“Sure, Cameo,” Bel said as he backed away from her.

“And Bel?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you see if that girl is all right when you’re done with him?” She motioned toward Lorelei.

The more attractive highwayman looked up and noticed the woman sitting forlornly in the mud, and smiled. “Oh, of course I will.”

She turned her attention back to Opal, “New jacket?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“You’re really lying in the mud in new clothes?” she said.

He started to say something, but then just half-smiled and put the flask to his lips again.

She ripped the shirt off one of the dead assassins and made an attempt at dressing his wound. “We’re in trouble.”

“I’d say so. We just killed a few of your old friends.” He squirmed as she pulled the bandage much tighter than he thought prudent.

She followed his pained expression to the knot she was working on. There was blood coursing through his fingers. She swore and grabbed for more of the dead man’s shirt.

Opal sat up enough to sneak a quick look at her handiwork, then took another swig of the whiskey as he fell back.

“Don’t look at it.”

“Oh, it’s not as bad as it appears at all. I remember what it looked like when the dagger went in. It was clean,” Opal said.

“That’s a relief because it’s quite a mess at the moment,” she said, motioning for Bel to come over.

“Did you need something?” Bel smirked at the two of them.

Cameo thrust a wad of off-white material at him. “Would you dress that wound?”

“Oh dear. Looks rather bad.”

“It’s not bad,” Opal said dismissively.

Cameo took a step back allowing giving Bel more room to work. “Look...Haffef is coming back.”

“Why?” Opal asked.

She lowered her voice, “We lost the item I was sent to find. Someone took it.”

He capped the flask. Her voice had fallen to a whisper as she said that last sentence “Well, my dear, we’ll just simply have to help you find whatever he wants. What was it then? Some pretty bauble? Something a thief would like apparently.”

Bel muffled his laughter.

“Not exactly.”

“A bag of bones!” Bellamy blurted out.

Cameo turned toward him, her expression dark.

“All right, all right, it’s not funny,” but he smiled at Opal the moment she looked away.

Opal noted the pained expression on her face and ignored Bel. “Are you suggesting we move on?”

Her eyes glittered faintly in the dark. “No point. There’s no saving you,” she stood up, “if I can’t find the bones.... I’m so sorry, Black Opal.”

“Wait. What? Why are you so convinced that he’ll come after me? There’s nothing so special about me. I’m just a highwayman like all the others.”

She shook the flask that was still dangling from Opal’s hand. There was a tinkling sound at the bottom. “Why don’t you finish that?”

He tossed the flask to the side and grasped her hand as she started to walk away. “Cameo wait....”

She stopped.

He staggered to his feet, grasping her hand.

Cameo appraised his broken body and felt horrible because she was about to walk away and leave him so that she could find her sister’s remains.

“Why is he going to target me?”

She noticed Bel, Lorelei, and even that bastard Jules watching to see her reaction. “I was probably wrong about that,” she turned away, pulling her hand free of his. “I won’t be long.”

Lacking her support, Opal hit the ground helplessly, and then obviously pained he smiled a sweet little smile. His eye on her as she walked away.

* * * * *

“Are you all right?” Bel crawled over to his side.

“She likes me.”

“Yes,” Bel hoisted a bottle of wine to his lips. “Yes, and now you’re going to die because of it.”

He sighed, “It’s for a good cause.”

“Oh, brother,” Bel sighed.

“Gag.” Jules chimed in.

Lorelei scampered back over to Opal’s body. “That woman is gone. Can we leave now?”

“Yes, just untie me!” the assassin called as he examined the knot she had left his leash tied in.

“Shut up, you delinquent!” Bel tossed the empty flask at him.

“Make me, Roucherquimp!”

Bel turned his attention to the lovely, but disheveled, young woman. “I’m Bellamy, by the way. I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“Oh, hello,” the girl said.

“Writer of the most god-awful poetry ever!” Jules supplied.

“Oh, you write poetry?”

“Ah, yes, yes I do,” he said sweetly, then walked over to their prisoner and kicked him hard in the side.

Jules crumpled. “You just wait, Bel, the Association isn’t going to rest until I’m found!”

Opal laughed weakly. “This is our prisoner?”

Jules looked over at him. “And you must be Black Opal? Looks like you weren’t such a match for my friends. I thought you were some notorious thug or something?”

Bel punched him in the back of the head.

The assassin turned around, angrily pulling at his bonds.

“Are you trying to kill him?” Lorelei whimpered.

“No, just knock him out.”

“Try a pistol butt,” Opal offered.

Bel smiled, “Oh yes, good idea.”

“Of course, you might kill him if you hit him just right.”

Jules’ eyes widened. “I didn’t think Cameo wanted me dead.”

“Hmm...that’s true,” Bel said as he scoured the scene of the fight for a pistol. “But I’m sure she would understand.”

“Don’t do it, Bel,” Kyrian rasped.

“This guy has been following me for miles. He killed people at the Tavern Pipe Inn. He set the place on fire. He deserves it.”

Jules had his back to the tree, trying to protect the back of his head.

“Just like that shrine in Kings Basin.” Opal muttered trying to keep his eye open, “Burned to the ground.”

Furious, Bel approached the assassin, muddy pistol in hand. Then his anger dissipated as he noticed that brand on the man’s face again. “An
F
...,” he chuckled and let the gun droop. “For
firestarter
. You’re an arsonist. It was you at that shrine, wasn’t it?”

Jules grabbed for the pistol and got a hold on it.

Bel pulled the trigger, but it was empty.

Kyrian and Opal looked on helplessly from their positions on the ground. Lorelei didn’t move.

“What now, Bellamy?” Jules hissed bitterly, his hands still on the pistol.

“It’s empty. What are you going to do with it?” Bel growled, trying to force it from his grasp.

“Keep it from you, amateur.”

“How about I let you take this pistol, then head back over to your backpack to that box of matches, hmm? Start a little Jules fire!”

“Not very likely. I’m completely soaked; this tree is wet. Those matches are probably the only dry thing around here.”

“I’m sorry I got you into this, my dear,” Opal whispered to Lorelei.

She looked over at the shattered carriage that they had ridden in. There was blood on the side of it. Somewhere within was her dead sister’s body.

Lorelei stood up and walked away.

“Lorelei?” Kyrian called to her weakly.

Bel glanced over at Opal and noticed that she was gone, then he turned and gave Jules the pistol as he ran after her.

“Great,” Jules uttered as he fell back against the tree. The pistol was of little use to him without Bel right there to receive a killing blow.

“Lorelei!” He called as he caught up to her.

She didn’t stop.

“You don’t have to go,” Bel said.

The young woman caught a sideways glance at him. “Why would I want to stay?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I suspect you think you should be reason enough?” she asked skeptically.

He smiled. “I dare not flatter myself—”

“Well, it’s a good thing, because you just bashed that helpless prisoner! What kind of a man does that?”

“Helpless?” He looked over his shoulder at Jules. “He’s an assassin with the Association.”

She stopped. “Association?”

“Yes, like those people there who attacked you.” He motioned toward the bodies of the assassins Cameo had killed lying on the ground around the wrecked carriage.

“Then I guess I owe you.”

“Well, I don’t know about that—”

Lorelei kissed him on the cheek, then threw herself into his arms. “They killed my poor, dear sister. Her body is still in the carriage.”

Bel’s expression was now one of curiosity. “You mean Black Opal had both of you with him?”

“Yes. After he robbed my parents.”

“What?” His face cracked into a grin, but Lorelei couldn’t see it; her own was buried in his chest. “That villain.”

“Yes, but not so bad as the men who killed my sister. All the members of the Association deserve to die,” she said.

“Hmm...well, you certainly have a point, dear Lady.”

She eyed Jules suspiciously from a distance. “They should all die.”

* * * * *

Cameo was miles from the scene of the bloody fight in a matter of an hour. She was wandering around the town of Lockenwood at dawn. The tower where Wick lived was so close to her that she could’ve walked in.

She sat down for a moment at the coach station and stared at the wanted posters, of Opal, Bel, and herself. There were a few others of Gail, and the infamous revolutionary Francois Mond, as well as a few other inconsequential people she had never heard of. She threw her head back against the wall of posters and tipped her chin to the sky as she eased back into the bench, exasperated. That was the moment that she realized she wasn’t alone.

There was a figure standing to one side: a man, like a shadow looking down at her.

Cameo leapt to her feet, pistol in one hand and a dagger in the other.

He was gone.

She turned with supernatural speed.

There was no one behind her. Leaves were blowing down Haberdasher Street, caught on a wintry breeze.

She spun around again.

There were silver eyes an inch from her own.

The assassin lifted her pistol, but whoever this was took it from her in one quick motion. Without missing a beat, she stabbed at him, but he was gone again.

She turned around again, and he was there. Cameo took off running down the street, away from Wick’s tower, and ran into a rock-hard chest. The suddenness of it knocked her backward.

Clutching her jaw, which felt a bit misplaced, she staggered to her feet. For a moment she thought that she was alone again. The town was silent and smelled of winter cold.

She tottered unsteadily as she circled the same place on the street for a solid minute. Then as if he had been standing there on the street all along, the figure was back.

He stepped from the shadows and into the moonlight at a human pace. His eyes looked like quicksilver, his skin was very pale, and he had an athletic build.

“Hello, Cameo.” And a sensual voice.

He touched his face, as if blushing, although she doubted he could.

“No,” he looked up at her. “I’m afraid blushing is quite beyond me at this point, and I’ve never really thought of my voice as
sensual
, but I am flattered.”

“You look more like you’re embarrassed.” Her fingers tightened around her dagger. She knew what she was looking at: a vampire. A vampire she didn’t know. That was probably very, very bad.

He smiled at her and tilted his head to one side. His eyes searched her face as if interested in her supernatural quality as well. “I’ve been following you for some time.”

“Oh really? And why is that?”

“No need to be so defensive,” he said, motioning to her dagger. “I don’t mean you any harm.”

She touched her jaw, “Right.”

“Well, you did that to yourself. You did run in to me.”

“Because you placed yourself in my getaway path.”

He smirked, “True enough.”

She studied his face. He really was very handsome. If someone had decided to trail her for a while she could have done quite a bit worse.

He glanced at the ground as if uncomfortable.

“Why were you following me?” she asked.

“The bones, I’m afraid.”

“You!”

“Yes, I’m the one who took those,” he confirmed.

“You have to give them back. Please? My Master is going to kill me, or one of my friends if you don’t—”

“Cameo—”

“I know I can’t win a fight with you. You’re obviously a vampire, but—”

“Cameo, please.” His voice was sober, “I can’t stand to hear you plead. This isn’t who you are.”

She could feel the heat rising to her face, “What are you talking about? You’ve been trailing me for a day or two, and you know me so well?”

He was unimpressed.

“I need those bones back.”

“How long have you been a thrall to Haffef?” he said.

A look of surprise crossed her face.

“How many years?”

She looked away, pained by the question. “I don’t know.”

“He’s my Master too.”

“You?” Cameo said, astounded.

“Of course. How many vampires do you really think are running around Lockenwood?”

“I never really gave it much thought.”

“Just your own problems, hmm?” he said.

“I have a few.”

He motioned over his shoulder at the tower behind him. “Her? Really? I think you’re making her more of a problem then you need to.”

“She is a witch.”

He sneered. “That is not what I would term her. No, charlatan is more like it.”

Cameo sheathed her dagger. “Then maybe you could help me get rid of her.”

“Can’t. I really can’t stay here in Lockenwood too long.”

“Or?”

“Or the Master might stop by and then I would be in trouble. Besides, you don’t need me,” he said.

Cameo retrieved a flask from her boot and drank down a shot of whiskey, then another. When she looked back in the vampire’s direction, he was still there, unfortunately.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

At least he was painfully handsome. That did take the edge off slightly.

“It’s been good to make your acquaintance, Cameo. I rarely ever have anyone to talk to anymore.”