I release my grip on his hair and stand, lip curling. “You are disgusting, you filthy pig. You deserve to die.”
Marcel shakes his head, whimpering and trembling. “No. Please. Don’t.”
Ari walks up behind me. “You are doing wonderfully, petit fille. Do it. The quicker the kill, the quicker we can leave.”
I nod soundlessly.
“Marcel, I think you should pray for forgiveness.” I point to Ari. “Crawl over to Sister Arianne and pray for God to forgive you.” When he makes no move to do so, I add, “Now, you sick fuck.”
Body quivering, his tear-filled, worried gaze darts from Ari to me, and slowly, he starts to crawl over to her, shaking in terror. He reaches her feet, lowers his head and mumbles his prayer.
“That’s right.” Ari looks down at him. “You know what you are doing is wrong. Pray for God to forgive you, Marcel. You must beg for his forgiveness; your sins are great.”
Marcel mumbles louder, his words slurred.
My feet move of their own accord. I tread lightly, moving to stand directly behind Marcel’s kneeling position.
Without another thought, I lift my katana and place the tip at the base of his neck.
His body stills. He stops breathing.
I breathe in deeply, and then out slowly. I add the slightest pressure to the handle of the blade; it enters the back of Marcel’s neck, and a moment later, exits through the front of his throat.
His body quakes and jerks uncontrollably, and at this moment, I realise I am thankful for one thing:
I can’t see his face.
Holding up the quaking body of Marcel Dupont by a blade through his neck, I lift my gaze to Ari. Her eyes sad, she smiles gently. “Come, Cat. Release him. There is still much to do.”
With a small jerk back, the blade is free, and Marcel’s body falls motionless to the floor with a dull thud.
My heart jumps.
I did it. I killed him. I didn’t need help. I did it on my own.
I don’t even feel bad about it.
Ari pulls her leg back and kicks the lifeless body, “Cochon sale!”
The night has officially become overwhelming.
A small giggle bubbles up my throat. The more I try to hold it back, the worse it becomes. I start to chuckle. My chuckle becomes full-blown laughter, bordering hysterical.
Tears stream down my face as I laugh, letting out my anxiety, anger and worry.
Ari watches me, a cautious smile playing at her mouth. When I get myself under control, she asks, “Okay?”
Tears trail my cheeks for another reason altogether as I begin to cry uncontrollably. Ari comes forward, wiping them away. She tuts, “Why do you cry, chéri?”
It all comes out. “I just killed a man—a man who had his back to me praying. He didn’t even see it coming.” I sniff. “He didn’t know it was coming, and...” I look up in her face and whisper “...and I don’t even care.” My body shakes with silent sobs. “I’m glad he’s dead.”
I’m pulled into a warm hug. Ari chuckles in my ear. “Oh, ma colombe. Be still.”
My tears begin to wilt away. Detachment takes over. I like it when my heart numbs. Numbness is good. It’s feeling that hurts.
Ari kisses my temple. “You were born for this. You have one of the toughest jobs in the world, and you have just proven you can do it with ease.” She pulls away and smiles. “That is a gift.”
I don’t say a thing.
I’m not sure I should be congratulated for that.
She holds out her palm and I hand her Koneko. She wipes off the blade with her discarded habit and kneels by the body. Her hand motions me over, and I help her move Marcel onto his side.
Confusion sweeps through me as she takes my blade and begins adding small cuts to his face, fingers and neck.
Sensing my uncertainty, Ari explains, “I should have explained beforehand. We need this to look like a robbery gone wrong.”
Oh.
Crap.
“I’m sorry.”
She scoffs, waving a dismissive hand my way. “It is nothing. Next time, we will go into details how we want the kill to look. It was my fault.” Reaching into her pants pocket, she pulls out a pair of gloves and hands them to me. “Now, make a mess of this place, please.”
The gloves feel strange on my hands, as though they are suffocating my fingers.
I walk from room to room, throwing things around, breaking ornaments and frames, and moving things around.
Ari calls me over to her as she puts on another pair of gloves. “We need to pick up the television, take it into the main hall and drop it, so it looks as though something interrupted a robbery.”
Brows rising, I look at her in disbelief. “You know a lot about this stuff, Ari. I’m impressed.”
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “My life before Bob found me was not a good one.”
The television drops to the ground with a boom. We collect our gear, and before we leave, I watch as Ari walks over to Marcel. Looking up to the ceiling, she mutters a few words under her breath before reaching down and coating her fingers in his blood. Her eyes close as she runs her blood-coated fingers from her forehead, down the side of her face to slide down her chin.
My eyes glued to her in shock, she stands and walks over to me wearing her victory on her face. Suddenly, I get it.
Arianne. Codename: War Paint.
She reaches into her pack and pulls out two black hoodies. I waste no time shrugging into mine, pulling the hood up. Ari follows suit.
We exit through the backdoor and stroll to the back gate as though nothing is wrong, as if we are meant to be here. Once on the street, we jump into the waiting Mercedes Kompressor, and Clark drives us back to Mirage.
Satisfaction flows throughout my body. Hearing, but not listening to Clark and Ari converse, I melt into my car seat, suddenly feeling the pull of exhaustion.
My eyes flitter, flutter and then close as I drift into a peaceful sleep.
Chapter Eight
The car doors creak and I jerk awake. My heart pounds in my chest. It takes me a moment to gather my bearings and figure out my setting. We’re back in the barn.
Clark holds out a hand to me, smiling. He wears no judgement on his handsome face. He understands me. He is the type of person everyone needs in their life. His common view of all things life is ‘It is what it is.’
By God. I love that.
I think I may have adapted that saying to my life not two hours ago.
A sense of freedom does wonders for the soul.
I place my hand in his. He gently pulls me out of the car and towards him. I’m encased in a firm hug. He whispers by my ear, “You did it, Cat.”
Still holding my hand, he leads me as Ari follows close behind. He keys in his code, and as soon as the security door opens, a cheer breaks out. The loud yells frighten me, and my body jolts. I look down to the ground floor of Mirage, and what I see makes me beam.
A laughing Frankie, a grinning Bob and a smiling Marco wait for me, Ari and Clark to join them. Bottles of communion wine are uncorked, and written on one of the whiteboards in black is ‘Congratulations, Cat!’ with balloons around it drawn in red marker.
Smiling like a fool, flushing bright red and shaking my head in disbelief, I make a slow descent down the steps to join them. It’s a nice gesture, but it’s close to four a.m. and I’m too tired for this shit.