Codename: Aconite Chapter Fifty-Three

Codename: Aconite Chapter Fifty-Three

The sound of dripping water stirs my senses as I feel myself coming to. My body feels cold, a fact only intensified by an unpleasant draft almost making my teeth chatter. I struggle to open my eyes, my surroundings appearing dark and blurry. I try to move only to groan in pain when I feel my movements restricted. It’s only by the second attempt to move my arms and legs that I realise I’ve been fucking hogtied. My head is throbbing along with a growing pressure in my skull that is making me feel nauseous. I’m pretty certain I have a concussion. I try to think about how I came to be here, but it’s all a blur.

As I lay on this cold, dirty – what feels like concrete – floor, I try to get my eyes to focus. Eventually, they seem to adjust, and I can now see Silas, unconscious and hogtied just a few yards away. That’s when the fog seems to lift from my brain, and I remember the men who broke into my apartment. I’ve definitely seen Silas look worse, but he doesn’t look great. His lip is busted and swollen, one eye is starting to swell and there’s dried blood around his nose. I can also see the faint formation of bruises over his torso. The man put up one hell of a fight.

As I look around, taking in our surroundings with more clarity, it appears as though we’re in some abandoned warehouse. One likely frequented by gangs, vagrants and junkies based on the empty bottles, needles, and mattresses with stains I don’t even want to know about. As I try to get a feel for the ties binding me to see if I can get free, I notice Silas beginning to come to. His eyes open, blinking, looking around in confusion until they fall on me, filling with relief only to narrow in concern when he takes in my compromised state.

“It’s about time you two woke up,” announces an imposing German voice.

Silas and I both look in the same direction as a man begins walking towards us. His 6’4” frame steps out of the shadows, looking to roughly be in his fifties with a deep olive complexion and dark, soulless, beady eyes, surrounded by fine lines. He has a goatee fading from dark to white that matches the hair on his head – or what little of it there is. The sides of his head have been buzz cut but it doesn’t hide the clear signs of greying, or minor thinning on top of his head. He looks in decent shape, but it’s hard to tell. He’s wearing all black, with a black coat over a black hooded sweat jacket.

Does he shop at Villains R Us or something? Might as well have a neon sign on his head flashing the words ‘bad guy’.

“Maybe you should take that up with your henchmen who knocked us out,” I say bitterly.

He gives a hearty laugh as he comes to stand between us. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since someone was able to surprise me. So, you can imagine the look on my face when I learn that not only are Scythe and Aconite still very much alive, but shacking up together and trying to hunt me down,” he says as he squats in front of me, his smile bringing no warmth to his cold eyes.

“Maybe you’re getting too old for this business, Sathariel,” I taunt.

He raises a wrinkled brow in intrigue. “I see I underestimated you. Just how did you learn who I was?”

“Let’s just say The Tournament isn’t too thrilled with your extracurricular activities.”

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he rises to his feet. “And let me guess, instead of Ulrich getting his hands dirty for once in his privileged life, he delegated the task to you.”

“You’re one to fucking talk,” Silas spits. “First you send middlemen to set us up, then you send an army of henchmen to abduct us. Sounds like the pot calling the kettle black if you ask me,” says Silas snidely.

A sly smile spreads across Sathariel’s face as he makes his way over to Silas. “Granted, I did send my men to retrieve you, but that is the only task I have ever delegated.” He looks from Silas to me, as if waiting for us to piece something together. “Still don’t recognise me?” he asks with feigned disappointment.

“Should we?” Silas asks in annoyance.

“There is no greater cloak of anonymity than that which the night brings,” he says with a knowing smile, his German accent vanishing to suddenly be replaced with a very strong and convincing Italian one.

Silas’ eyes widen in shock and disbelief, looking Sathariel over as if trying to reconcile two conflicting thoughts in his head.

Sathariel turns his attention to me, “Did I not once say that poison is a far more sophisticated weapon that the average man cannot comprehend,” he says, switching to a familiar Spanish accent that makes my blood run cold.

I stare at the man between us, shock catapulting through me. “That’s impossible…”

“Is it?” he says conspiratorially, his accent effortlessly slipping back into German.

“You look nothing like the man I met!” I exclaim in defiance, wrestling against my binds, furiously wanting to put my hands on this son of a bitch.

“I should hope not. Changing my appearance was easy. Making the voices authentic, now that takes practice. A few wigs, prosthetics, shoe lifts, contacts, bodysuits, and make-up and suddenly you can become whoever you want to be. Perhaps an Italian by the name of Raul, desperate for revenge on the woman who conned him of his life savings,” he says, looking towards Silas. “Or maybe a grieving Spanish widow named Armand, thirsty for the blood of the man who murdered his wife,” he says looking back to me.

The anagrams.

My mother pointed out how both names were anagrams, and now it makes sense. They’re all anagrams because they all belong to the same person. All this time we were looking for a shadow we’d never met when the truth was that we’d known him from the very beginning. The man Silas met, the man I met; they’re one and the same. Sathariel had his finger on the pulse from the start. All this time we thought we had one over on him, but he was still miles ahead of us. He named himself after the angel of deception and once again proved to be true to his name in every way.

“So, what do I call you? Raul, Armand…or Lamar?” I ask, staring him right in the eye.

A hint of surprise flashes across his face. “Well, well. I really did underestimate you,” he says, stepping closer and kneeling in front of me, “So, you caught on to my little pattern,” he says with an impressed tone.

“Pretty obvious, actually. Maybe you should try harder next time,” I say with rather convincing bravado. Okay, so it was only obvious to my mother, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He chuckles, “This is why I had originally considered recruiting you. You would make a wonderful addition to the syndicate. I would hate to waste such a unique talent and mind such as yours,” he says with dismay.

“You tried to have me killed. Twice,” I point out belligerently.

“And yet here you are. Very much alive. I assume Piano Man is dead. He went missing after I sent him to finish you off and I haven’t heard a peep since.”

“Whoops,” I say with a broad smile.

“What the fuck do you want with us, Sathariel?” Silas growls in aggravation, his muscles bulging as he strains against his restraints.

“Well, you see, you have me in quite the predicament. I can see so much potential for a woman of your talents in my organisation. Him I’m not so sure of,” he says, nodding his head towards Silas. “I mean, let’s be honest. There’s no…artistry, to wielding a gun, but what you do with poison is pure poetry my dear.” He lets out a long drawn-out sigh, sliding his hands into his coat pockets as he paces back a bit. “But then again, you both have learned far too much. Far more than anyone else has, and I just couldn’t in good conscience let you live with that knowledge,” he says in a melancholic tone.

This man is full of so much shit the toilet’s jealous.

I look from Sathariel to Silas, and only one option is clear before me. This is the world we live in. It’s kill or be killed, and I’m not dying today.

I look into Silas’ bloodshot emerald eyes, watching the moment their concern for me turns into apprehension as they register my resolve. I look over to Sathariel, my mind now made up.

“What if I agreed to join you? To join the Syndicate? Would you spare my life then?”

Sathariel looks at me pensively but shakes his head sadly. “But how do I know I can trust you? Your defiance makes you a liability.”

“Then what if I prove my loyalty? What if I killed Silas for you? Right here, right now. Would that be enough for you?” I ask, my voice cold and detached, devoid of any of the emotions that rang through my words not moments ago.

Sathariel’s eyes light up, an ecstatic, sadistic smile erupting across his face. “You’ve surprised me once again! Isn’t this a delight?” he says, looking from me to Silas. “You could learn a thing or two from this one.”

“Do we have a deal or not?” I snap.

He turns to me, his eyes gleaming with malevolence so chilling I begin to question if the man before me is really human.

“If you can kill him right now in front of me, then yes. We have a deal,” he says in a playful taunt.

“Then untie my hands, and I’ll get this over and done with.”

Sathariel walks around behind me. I hear the sound of a pocketknife snapping open and soon the sound of a blade cutting through rope. Not a moment later, my arms and legs are free, pain shooting through my shoulders, hips and knees as circulation returns to my limbs.

“Follow through, and the deal stays. Reneg… and you both die,” Sathariel warns as he gets up and steps back.

I roll onto my front, slowly propping myself up on my hand and knees, groaning as I clutch my chest. I take a breath, coughing as I slowly rise to my feet, swaying a little as the ache in my skull makes my head spin.

I finally lock eyes with Silas, who hasn’t said a word. His eyes are frozen, watching my every step as I slowly stalk towards him.

“I bet you regret telling me you trust me now, huh,” I say smugly, earning barely a glimmer of a reaction from him.

This feels unfair; doing this while he’s bound and helpless; not even able to give me a fair fight. But no one ever said life was fair. It’s his life or mine. There’s only one choice I can make. At least he’s getting his wish.

“Where the fuck was my deal? Where’s my chance to bargain, Raul? Lamar, whatever your fucking name is!” Silas screeches in indignation.

Sathariel shrugs, “First come, first served. Besides, I like her more.”

Silas begins to struggle as I position myself behind him, sliding my arm around his neck as I get him into a headlock. I tighten my grip around his neck, my lips against his ear and I swear I can feel his pulse racing against my lips. His face begins to turn red and his breathing becomes laboured as the veins in his neck begin to bulge. He struggles harder against his restraints, so I wrap my legs around him as best I can, holding him still until finally, he stops moving. I hold my grip still a little longer until I’m sure he’s been deprived of air long enough.

I let him go, pushing him away from me as I slowly get to my feet, dusting the dirt and debris from my body as I look down and the lifeless body of my lover. Just hours ago our bodies were locked in heated passion, and now he’s nothing but another body to fall by my hands.

“Satisfied?” I say icily as I look over at Sathariel.

“Not quite,” he says.

I frown in confusion as he walks over. He kneels down, rolling Silas over and placing the back of his hand to Silas’ nose. He then checks him for a pulse, and just to be sure, lays his ear on Silas’ chest to listen for a heartbeat. Once he is satisfied, he gives me a bright smile.

“Well done! I didn’t actually think you’d go through with it,” he says, rising to his feet.

“It was him or me. I chose me. I will always choose what’s best for me.”

“Who knew you were so cold-hearted,” he teases, offering me his hand. I take his hand and step over Silas’ rigid body. “What do you say we make our new arrangement official? I hate to conduct business in such a gloomy setting. How’s about you join me for dinner in Berlin, three nights from now? I can send a jet and a car to retrieve you. There we can begin your initiation and tie up a few loose ends,” he says, wrapping my arm around my elbow as he escorts me out of the warehouse.

“Loose ends?”

“Just one little one, but I think you’ll enjoy what I have planned,” he says conspiratorially.

“Forgive me if I remain sceptical,” I say bitterly.

He throws his head back and laughs as he pats my hand, “I would expect nothing less.”

As we leave the warehouse, Sathariel helps me into a car he has waiting just outside. I take one final look at the dilapidated building as the car pulls away, leaving it and Silas’ cold body in the rearview mirror.