Diary of Alluda - Entry 01

I leaned against the air circulator. Lawndon was noisy and busy, even late into the night. While it makes it easier to track someone, wait for an opportunity, and then extract without being noticed, I value peace and quiet. This job doesn't have many perks, and its easier to relax when there's a cool evening breeze and no one but you and your target is stirring.

I did not tense or jerk when I saw my target walking out onto the balcony several stories up on the much taller building across from my perch. She was the daughter of a visiting baron, pretty but young and apparently innocent. No idea why someone would want her dead, but you don't ask questions in this line of work. Silently, I drew back the string of my bow, controlling my breathing and aiming carefully. I felt a pang of something very like pain. Pain and sadness, and my right arm holding the bowstring and the end of the arrow was where it was worst. It through me off my aim, and I missed.

I missed. I, missed. I

never

miss.

The tiny arrow embedded itself in the sliding glass door inches from her head. She looked startled but not afraid, and impossibly, her eyes found mine. There was no slightest possibility she could see me, yet she stared straight at me. I hurried silently around the back of the slanted roof and down and along the escape route I had scouted carefully before setting up to make this kill. I was trying hard to control my panic. Something was wrong with me, and there was only one person I could ask.

My cell leader listened as I reported, managing to keep any shakiness out of my voice. When I finished, he seemed to be studying me—though it was hard to tell with his face completely hidden in the deep shadows of his hood. After a few moments, he said slowly "Suzanne Warneki posses no known magical ability. Indeed, you show no traces of magic—and there would be traces." He paused, then continued "Of course, I didn't need to examine you for magical traces, because I know exactly what happened. Alluda, in the old tongue this was called galua, the golden thread of fate that connects soul mates."

I looked at him, loosing composure in horror at the situation I now found myself in. My cell leaders next words shocked me still more "The only option is to fake her death and bring her on under a new name." I was speechless, and my astonishment must have shown. "Oh come now Alluda, run the fucking numbers. You can't kill her clearly, and if I assign it to someone else, her death will still break you. If I intend to carry out this contract, I'm throwing away my very best agent. The only way I'm able to keep you is if she is brought into the fold under a different identity." Ah, yes that all made logical sense. For just a moment, I had been under the false impression that my cell leader had some kind of conscience, silly me.

The next night found me far from the part of Lawndon I had been for my failed hit. Suzanne Warneki had been attending some sort of gathering, but tonight I was breaking into her hotel room. I was as nervous as my first assassination. I had to somehow convince this noble woman to leave her life of luxury, leave her friends and family behind, and even give up her own name just to be with me. And this after attempting to murder her barely twenty-four hours previously.

To my great surprise, the door to the balcony was wide open, letting the evening breeze in. "Come in, please" I heard a warm voice say. I hesitated and checked myself. My invisibility was active. All it really did was allow light to pass through me, so it wasn't so odd that someone might be able to detect me. I entered cautiously, to find Suzanne sitting on the edge of a king sized bed, brushing out her long lustrous black hair. I could see she was nude. She turned to look at me over her shoulder, a warm smile on her face. Her vibrant green eyes seemed to almost glow in the moonlight.

"You've been worrying yourself sick" she said sympathetically "Afraid I might be angry about last night, wondering how you would convince me. Don't worry Alluda, I know the circumstances. I know the ways of the galua." My hand loosened, and fell away from my knife hilt. "We have no time to waste." I said, sounding even to my own ears far warmer than I'd intended.

"Hmmm, let me make you a counter offer~" she said playfully. "Come to bed~" She arched her back, her perfect body accented by the moonlight, gorgeous hair stirred slightly by the night breeze. I rarely dealt with anyone but my cell leader and the others in our cell. I didn't know the name or face of any of them, and only my cell leader knew my name and face. I was wholly unprepared for a situation like this, which is why I responded the way I did.

"We can fuck when we safely extract you and leave a fake dead body behind." I said, blunt—almost rude—because of my discomfort with the situation. She wasn't offended though, just smiled at me and started sliding clothes on. But of course, she had said she could read me across whatever link we shared. I'd have to ask her to teach me that.

For a noblewoman, she was startlingly quick to pack and I was pleasantly surprised how little she was taking with her. I must confess I was a ball of confused emotions at this point. Incredibly, every time my mind wandered off on a paranoid tangent, she was there—pausing her packing for a moment to touch my arm, or say a couple of words, or reassure me in countless small ways. I had never noticed the lack of warmth in my life until she entered it. It was as if I had lived my hole life dehydrated and was tasting water for the first time.

I had a small studio apartment in a quiet section of Lawndon. I didn't use it much, generally preferring to ambush prey in the country; but it was furnished and clean. I set her down gently, and then froze. I'd never been on a date, let alone a situation as weird as this; I had no idea what to say or how to proceed. Suzanne—of course—jumped in to save me as always. "So I can't be Suzanne Warneki any longer. We should pick a name for me and use it even in private. What do you think of Heather?" I relaxed and said "Heather will do I think." The conversation moved on across a broad range of topics. She could doubtless sense I wasn't ready to talk about my past, so instead she asked me about all aspects of my craft, showing genuine interest.

When she suggested we could both use a shower, I didn't object. Disrobing with her present was thrilling, but felt entirely natural. I was quite wet at this point as was she, but neither of us felt any embarrassment from the other's gaze. Indeed, I was quite flattered that the prospect of making love with me could excite her so.

When we kissed, it was my first kiss. Washing each other quickly turned to foreplay as we both intended. Her hands exploring my soap-slicked body lit a fire in my core; I was so keyed up that I had my first orgasm merely from her inserting a finger. She cradled me against her warm body as I came, shuddering and moaning in pleasure. She had me sit against the shower wall and spread my legs. Even as inexperienced as my lover was—she was also a virgin—her enthusiasm and the information the link fed her allowed her to rapidly improve.

The more time we spent together, the better I was able to experience her thoughts and feelings. What I saw was a mind at least as calculating and ruthless as my own, but focused on social warfare—or politics for the non pretentious—where mine was focused on killing. I saw how we were complementary, two halves of a truly frightening partnership. I also saw her loneliness; hers was not as all-consuming as mine since she'd had parents and an older sister who loved her, but she'd never been able to meet others as a child. My eyes welled with tears as I held her in my lap, lackadaisically petting her. She too had to worry that anyone she met was an enemy.

After my sixth orgasm, I insisted that we trade places. She tasted good beyond my expectations. My world was her sex, the smell and taste of her and her warmth against my eager tongue. I was attuned enough to our link by then that I came each time she did. Soon, though I don't remember which of us suggested it, we sat legs entwined and tribing. It was a truly unique experience to feel my lover's sex against mine at the same time I felt an echo of her sensations. We kissed as we had our final orgasm of the evening—the most intense orgasm of them all.

We fell asleep in each other's arms, nude and cuddled close. I had only known her a bit over twenty-four hours, and had only really known her for a hand full of hours, but already I couldn't imagine sleeping alone. It seemed almost part of someone else's past. It was the first intimation that I was changing.