Slay Bells Ring

Chapter Three – Holly

It’s a gamble, I know, revealing my face to him. For a moment, when he’s looking at me, I think he recognizes me. It’s hard to tell. Kane is… let’s just say the Kane before me isn’t the Kane I’ve studied in the photographs.

This isn’t the hardcore assassin Kane, wearing all black. This is drunkard Kane, with his brown hair a bit too unkempt and his stubble so long it’s pretty much a beard. His blue eyes are a little glassy and glazed-over, and I attribute that to the glass bottle I see near the chair in front of the fire.

I gave him a fake name, obviously, because I didn’t know if he’d recognize my real name. Then again, does someone whose job it is to kill people remember every single detail about every single person they’ve killed? I highly doubt it.

Don’t worry. I’ll tell him my real name once I have him where I want him.

“Well?” I ask when he doesn’t say a word more. “You said, ‘Look, Georgina,’ and then you trailed off like you saw a ghost or something. I’m still waiting to hear why I should be the one to leave the cabin instead of you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a squatter.”

That finally drags him back to reality. The man blinks. “A squatter? What… how do you figure?”

“The fact that you have no evidence you’re supposed to be here, along with the fact that you’re half-drunk before nightfall.” It’s hard to sound calm and amiable when I spent the last thirteen years hating this man’s guts. I want to pull out my knife and stab him a thousand times.

Oh, the amount of murder I imagined growing up after that fateful night would make even the most seasoned assassin horrified.

“I’m not leaving,” Kane states, sounding like a grump, probably hoping to scare me off. He puffs up a bit, as if he’s trying to intimidate me or something. You know, since he’s so freaking tall and built of muscle, and I’m just a random, short girl who stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time.

But I’m not random. He’ll see that soon enough.

“I’m not leaving, either,” I say with a shrug. “Guess that means we’ll have to share the cabin, then, and sort this out with the owners once we have service. Oh, wait, I’ll have to sort it out once I have service, because you somehow don’t have your phone.”

I start to roll my suitcase down the short hall, where the bedroom is, but Kane calls out, “Bedroom’s mine.” Ah, just as I figured. The man’s not the knight in shining armor type—why would he be? He’s a fucking assassin.

“Fine, then take that stupid bottle and go,” I tell him with a frown. “You don’t get the bedroom and the living room. I’ll need the pull-out.” The cabin has a single bedroom, but also a pull-out sofa that makes a second bed, in case anyone with an actual family wants to rent it out.

Don’t ask me why anyone would want to do that.

Kane gives me the grumpiest look ever before snatching the bottle on the small end table near the recliner, and then he lumbers into the hall, slamming the door to the bedroom soon after. The man actually slams it hard enough the whole cabin rattles, like it’s not used to someone with his strength.

He might be a lot bigger than me and a hell of a lot stronger, but that won’t matter once I have him where I want him. It’ll be easy enough. All I have to do is make sure he stays drunk. But that’s not a job for tonight.

I don’t change into pajamas. It’s been a long day; my body is tired even though my mind is wide awake. Truthfully, I don’t know how much sleep I’ll actually get tonight, but I have to try. The absolute last thing I want to do is fuck this thing up by being too exhausted to think and act properly.

No, Kane is mine. He’s not going to walk out of this cabin alive.

Within ten minutes, I have the living room rearranged, the pull-out sofa in front of the fireplace instead of the recliner Kane had gotten cozy in before I arrived. I find some extra sheets in the corner cabinet near the hallway. They smell like they haven’t been used in ages, musty. The sheets need a good wash.

Here, you have to make do with what you have though, so I put the sheets on the pull-out and try not to think about where the sheets have been as I finally take off my boots and crawl under the covers.

The fire still goes; it’s almost out. I’ll have to put another log in soon, but for now I let my mind drift off.

This is what I’ve been waiting for, training for. That man just a room over may be nothing more than a shadow of the man who killed my parents that night, but he’ll pay the price. Blood can only be repaid by more blood, and I won’t stop until Kane lies bleeding out.

It’s not going to be fast. Fuck no. I want him aware of what’s happening. Kane will be cognizant enough to know he’s about to die. Whether he’ll be terrified of his impending death or not doesn’t concern me. I simply want him to know he’s going to die and that I’m the one who’s going to kill him.

Before this thing’s over, he’ll know my real name. I’ll carve it into his goddamned chest.

Morning comes too soon, but I want to make sure I get up before Kane. The fire is nothing but embers, so the cabin is cold. It takes a while for me to get the fire going again, and once I do I start unpacking. Not my clothes; those stay in my suitcase. The food I brought I arrange on the counter in the kitchen, and I bundle up to brave the cold and snowy world outside to grab the pack of bottled water I brought along.

Of course, the shit froze, so I have to set the water near the fire to thaw them out.

It was just as I thought: I didn’t get much sleep last night. By the time I was finally able to shut my mind off, it was probably well past midnight. Some sleep is better than no sleep, yes, but I’m a firm believer that a solid seven-to-nine hours can solve a lot of problems.

I’m antsy. How could I not be? The one thing I’ve dreamed of since that fateful night is so close I can taste it.

I changed into jeans and a thick sweater that falls past my ass; it hides the profile of the knife I keep on me. Like hell am I going to walk around this cabin without packing.

Don’t worry, though. I have a few other fun items in my suitcase. Kane and I are going to have some fun before I kill him. I’m going to drag the truth out of him, and then I’m going to kill him. The release I’ll feel once that fucker is dead will put every single emotion I’ve ever felt in my life to shame.

My phone is off to conserve its charge. No signal here, anyway. All that is to say I don’t know what time it is when I finally sit down at the small kitchen table with a protein bar and a newly-thawed bottle of water as my breakfast.

I’m about halfway through my protein bar when the other member of the cabin finally gets up and drags his sorry ass to the bathroom. He’s in there for a few minutes, and then he comes out, shuffling his feet as he draws toward the opposite end of the table. I immediately notice he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

The man’s seen better days. He’s downright scraggly. He doesn’t look like a well-trained assassin. If I never met the man before and I saw him today, I’d think he was some kind of bum or a down on his luck man who just lost everything. The unkempt hair and beard isn’t doing him any favors.

“What’s that?” he asks, pointing to the wrapper of the protein bar. Kane still sounds half asleep.

“Protein bar,” I say. “Mine. Sorry, you can’t have any.”

What does the asshole do? He pushes himself to his feet, stalks toward the counter behind me, and tears into a box to grab himself one. I grind my teeth as I listen to him rip it open before he sits down across from me once more.

“Don’t tell me all you brought was booze,” I say dryly.

All Kane does is harrumph.

“Is that why you’re here? To drink your problems away?” Out of all the scenarios I imagined, I didn’t think I’d come across a drunkard. If all he does is drink, it’ll make this too easy—not that I’m complaining. The man is going to die here, mark my words. I can hear those slay bells now. Ring-a-ding-ding, motherfucker.

The only thing the man does is glare at me with those icy blue eyes as he bites into my bar.

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you: I don’t give a shit what you do, but I’m not leaving. I paid for this, so I’m going to enjoy myself while I’m here.” I lean back in my old, creaky chair and add, “I just want to relax. Since I have no signal out here, maybe we should learn to share the cabin.”

It’s hard to tell with the beard, but I’m pretty sure the man frowns at me. With a full mouth, he says, “How about you do whatever the fuck you want and you leave me alone?” Kane turns his head away before he mutters, “I just want to be left alone.”

“I should warn you, though: I’m not helpless. If you come at me, I know a dozen ways to take someone of your size down.”

That pulls Kane out of his pout, and his blue eyes land on me once again. “I can’t say I ever got threatened by a pint-sized woman before.” He finishes up the protein bar, leans back, and glares at me as he chews. “Your threat’s noted.”

The table falls into uncomfortable silence after that, and eventually Kane huffs, “I’m going to get more wood for the fire. Next round’s on you.”

I don’t say anything to that, but I do watch him grab his jacket, shove on his boots, and leave the cabin.

It seems Kane No-Last-Name is grumpy today. I wonder if I can make him even more miserable. Let’s put it to the test.