the huge oaken doors behind it.
“Who lives here?”
Mark smiled at me faintly but said nothing, knocking loudly at the door. We waited in silence, before he reached out and took my hand in his, the small gesture unexpectedly comforting.
“She’s someone a lot like us. Former CIA, ran with bad people, did bad things.”
“Some kind of secret agent?” I asked, exasperatedly.
“No, Kayla. Something more dangerous than that.”
I stared, eyes wide, glancing from the house back to Mark.
“You’ll like her.” He added, grinning.
My body shivered as the large doors opened, revealing the exquisite wood and metal interior of the home. It was impeccably designed, the closest thing to a work of art that a home could be. Blocking the view however, was another kind of work of art.
She was twenty years past her prime and still very nearly the image of perfection. The woman in the doorway was tall, slender, with features that were at once stunningly beautiful and incredibly regal. Her pale skin was draped in silvered hair that draped over her shoulders, reaching all the way down to her hips. I found myself not wondering about who this woman was, or what she was, but rather, how she had held off the effects of time.
“So dramatic Lucy,” Mark laughed, waving to the huge entry doors.
I stood in shock, but I didn’t seem to be the only one. Lucy hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Kayla, meet my guardian angel,” He said, pressing his way over the threshold and embracing our beautiful host. The woman pulled away, ripping herself from his grip.
“I haven’t seen you in a long time, and now you greet me like an old friend?”
Mark drew back. “
“Why are you here?” Lucy said softly, her skin becoming even more impossibly pale. I looked down and noticed the silver handgun she was holding.
“I’m here, because Fong is back.”
“I’ve heard,” Lucy replied, letting out her breath and turning to walk back inside, leaving the door wide open. We stepped over the threshhold, following her into the living room, the heavy wood closing behind us.
“Tea?”
“Please,” Famine responded. Lucy stepped past us, walking into the dining area and returning with a pitcher and five glasses hung around it.
“I suppose you want to find him?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
There was a deafening silence as the statement sunk in. I accepted a glass, Lucy pouring it full of ice and tea.
“And who is this?” Lucy asked, staring at me.
“I’m Kayla. I’m with Famine,” I said as confidently as I could muster.
Lucy’s eyes dropped to my hips, rising back up and appraising me like a piece of furniture.
“She looks like a keeper. Does she fuck as good as she looks?”
I choked on some tea, trying not to cough, covering the my mouth instinctively. Famine smiled, reaching out to grip my hand.
“Sorry dear, bad joke,” Lucy said, filling Famine’s cup.
“I thought you dealt with Fong…”
“So did I...”
“Nevertheless, I think I can help you.”
Lucy turned, walking past the foyer into the large living room, taking a seat cross-legged on a small futon in the center of the room. We sat across from her on a large leather bound couch, the fine quality of manufacture evident as I slipped into its embrace. I looked around, still shell-shocked by the beauty and extravagance of it all, my eyes gazing out the floor to ceiling windows at the crashing waves.
“This must have cost a fortune…” I whispered, almost too low to hear.
Lucy laughed heartily, her delicate voice singing in the air around me with an ethereal quality. “Land was a bit cheaper out here when I picked the spot…”
I stared at her eyes. Lucy was something different, a keeper of secrets. Her voice was happy and light, but it dawned on me the handgun was still firmly in her grip. I felt something welling up in me that I hadn’t known in a long time. Abject fear. Lucy was someone who used her beauty and voice as a tool. You’d
“Who lives here?”
Mark smiled at me faintly but said nothing, knocking loudly at the door. We waited in silence, before he reached out and took my hand in his, the small gesture unexpectedly comforting.
“She’s someone a lot like us. Former CIA, ran with bad people, did bad things.”
“Some kind of secret agent?” I asked, exasperatedly.
“No, Kayla. Something more dangerous than that.”
I stared, eyes wide, glancing from the house back to Mark.
“You’ll like her.” He added, grinning.
My body shivered as the large doors opened, revealing the exquisite wood and metal interior of the home. It was impeccably designed, the closest thing to a work of art that a home could be. Blocking the view however, was another kind of work of art.
She was twenty years past her prime and still very nearly the image of perfection. The woman in the doorway was tall, slender, with features that were at once stunningly beautiful and incredibly regal. Her pale skin was draped in silvered hair that draped over her shoulders, reaching all the way down to her hips. I found myself not wondering about who this woman was, or what she was, but rather, how she had held off the effects of time.
“So dramatic Lucy,” Mark laughed, waving to the huge entry doors.
I stood in shock, but I didn’t seem to be the only one. Lucy hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Kayla, meet my guardian angel,” He said, pressing his way over the threshold and embracing our beautiful host. The woman pulled away, ripping herself from his grip.
“I haven’t seen you in a long time, and now you greet me like an old friend?”
Mark drew back. “
“Why are you here?” Lucy said softly, her skin becoming even more impossibly pale. I looked down and noticed the silver handgun she was holding.
“I’m here, because Fong is back.”
“I’ve heard,” Lucy replied, letting out her breath and turning to walk back inside, leaving the door wide open. We stepped over the threshhold, following her into the living room, the heavy wood closing behind us.
“Tea?”
“Please,” Famine responded. Lucy stepped past us, walking into the dining area and returning with a pitcher and five glasses hung around it.
“I suppose you want to find him?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
There was a deafening silence as the statement sunk in. I accepted a glass, Lucy pouring it full of ice and tea.
“And who is this?” Lucy asked, staring at me.
“I’m Kayla. I’m with Famine,” I said as confidently as I could muster.
Lucy’s eyes dropped to my hips, rising back up and appraising me like a piece of furniture.
“She looks like a keeper. Does she fuck as good as she looks?”
I choked on some tea, trying not to cough, covering the my mouth instinctively. Famine smiled, reaching out to grip my hand.
“Sorry dear, bad joke,” Lucy said, filling Famine’s cup.
“I thought you dealt with Fong…”
“So did I...”
“Nevertheless, I think I can help you.”
Lucy turned, walking past the foyer into the large living room, taking a seat cross-legged on a small futon in the center of the room. We sat across from her on a large leather bound couch, the fine quality of manufacture evident as I slipped into its embrace. I looked around, still shell-shocked by the beauty and extravagance of it all, my eyes gazing out the floor to ceiling windows at the crashing waves.
“This must have cost a fortune…” I whispered, almost too low to hear.
Lucy laughed heartily, her delicate voice singing in the air around me with an ethereal quality. “Land was a bit cheaper out here when I picked the spot…”
I stared at her eyes. Lucy was something different, a keeper of secrets. Her voice was happy and light, but it dawned on me the handgun was still firmly in her grip. I felt something welling up in me that I hadn’t known in a long time. Abject fear. Lucy was someone who used her beauty and voice as a tool. You’d
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