Chapter 10

“Do it again.”

“Again already?”

“Not that!”  She slapped his bare chest and giggled, “You know what I mean.” She pouted and tugged the covers up further to cover more than their entwined legs, bringing the scratchy military issue blankets up to her neck.

“Do I?”  Alexi grinned and raised an eyebrow, teasing her a moment before closing his eyes and pulling air slowly into his lungs.

The air flexed, verily humming with psychic energy.  Alise had always been amazed at the amount of raw power she felt whenever Alexi was reaching anywhere within a few feet of her.  It pulsed from him in humid, languid waves and threatened to shove her stomach through her spine as it forced its way through her like warm water through a cloth.  She had found nothing to compare it to, nothing that matched its intensity, warmth and comfort.  She often wondered if she loved Alexi, or his power.  She doubted he cared which she loved.  She wondered if she cared, either.

Her eyes watched his face as sweat began to bead on his forehead.  His power made her hair stand on end as if there were too much static in the air; or too much fear.  She bit her lip, the metal frame of the bed creaking as she sat up and watched, a child waiting for the next part of the circus to unfold.  Whirling in slow, surreal circles, a lump of misshapen soap the color of key lime pie floated from the bathroom towards the desk.

Alise stared, awed, as Alexi once again managed to extend his reach where it wasn’t possible, control what he shouldn’t be able to even to nudge.  The soap floated towards the desk—already piled with various bathroom amenities—like an asteroid lazily drifting through space before wobbling a bit at the end, finally falling and bouncing from the desk corner.

“You missed, silly.”  She said and turned, a tease on her lips morphing into a concerned cry.  “Alexi!  Your nose!”

He reached up, ignoring the sudden pain in his temple, to touch his nostril.  His finger came away, glossy red smeared across it like a latex glove.  He stared dumbfounded as Alise babbled on in concern.  Nosebleeds were not uncommon when a new recruit stretched himself too far, pushed too hard.  But Alexi was far from green and hadn’t had a nosebleed in years.  Besides, he was far too strong to have already reached his limits.

“Alexi!  Do you hear me?  Alexi?!?” Alise all but screamed at him.  He flicked his eyes up to her stoically.  “You can’t do this anymore.  It’s too dangerous.  You shouldn’t be getting nosebleeds.”

“It’s nothing.”

Fear stained her eyes.  “It’s something!  Alexi I thought it was amazing too and I know how strong you are, but there’s a reason they teach us not to reach beyond our senses.”

Fear.  They fear what I might become if I reached my potential.  “They are only ignorant of the possibilities.  I simply need more practice.”  More time to hone and sharpen my will.

Skepticism.  “Do you honestly think in the 80 years they’ve been doing research here that nobody ever thought to try this?  For someone so smart, you can be really stupid.”

And then his mistake dawned on him.  He thought love—or at least the way they pretended at it—would be enough to make her trustworthy.  It wasn’t.  She’s weak like the rest.  Afraid of her potential; of my potential.  Cowering in the shadows of their lies and the comfort of her trivial expectations.  Tainted by fear. 

But now what?  Fear of change can drive even frightened sheep to action; give phantom spines to the cowardly.  And she was terrified that this wasn’t safe; that she would lose her ‘lover.’  If he could not convince her his path was safe, then he would have to silence her some other way.  A sudden cold purpose flooded him—a murderous intent that surprised him.  As much as he wished it otherwise, he realized he would have to kill Alise, now.  Otherwise he risked her trying to stop him, or worse, getting others to try.  But then her death was trivial compared to the barriers he might breach; the things his potential might achieve.  Sacrifices had to be made for the greater good, after all.  Duty and sentiment were forever the bickering couple of one’s soul.

“Promise me you’ll stop, Alexi.  Promise me and mean it!” she pleaded; a frightened girl asking for grade school oaths to assuage her fear.  Alexi obliged.

“You’re right, Alise.  I guess I’m just frustrated by the same old same old training of late; just looking for something new and exciting.”  He lowered his eyes and quirked his mouth.  Confident men with a hidden bit of self-doubt dredged up the doting mother in all women.

Relief.  An easy grin.  “Well if you want something exciting…” she said coyly, letting the blanket slip from her form and moving to him again.  His face smiled to put her at ease as they kissed.  She pressed herself to him, her lips on his neck full of whispers.  “Promise me you won’t do that anymore.”

His eyes watched the ceiling.  His arms embraced her slowly.  His shaking clutch told her stories of his need for her stability; a refuge from his warring thoughts.  Women would believe any lie so long as it involved them being necessary.

“Promise me.” She sighed into his ear.

Her persistence bothered him.  Suddenly he wondered whether a promise would be enough.  Would she go to the captain anyways?  A sudden flash of insight told him she would.  She was a liability.  Never leave a witness. 

The same insight spoke of a way.  One mental thrust, one cut when she was too distracted to feel it—too engrossed in other sensations, other feelings.  He urged her on, then, kissing her passionately, moving her towards emotions and sensations that would hide his reach and cover the split second thrum of his power.  As their bodies tangled he pushed his mind, forced his will out to reach where no other could reach; where senses failed.  After all, who could see inside a person?

“I promise.” He lied even as he reached inside her.

Power.

Snip.

At any cost.

*                      *                      *

Alise kissed him one last time before turning from his door to walk back to her own room.  Perhaps they had come farther than she thought.  Alexi had always been stubborn—too prideful to admit his mistakes, let alone pass up an opportunity for glory.  But this time, unbelievably, he had acquiesced.  And even more amazingly, he had then thrown himself into their lovemaking with so much passion; almost fury.  

She only wished she could have stayed longer to enjoy it; enjoy his company.  The day had worn on her, and after an early afternoon spent with Alexi, she could feel the exhaustion seeping into her.  Even though sleeping at three in the afternoon made her feel old, she was more determined to take a nap with each step.  But it had all been worth it.  Watching Alexi reach like that.  Feeling his power rip the air and shove her soul. Falling further in love with him.

Was that what this was?  Love?  Was this how it felt?  A lightness.  A desire to be with him again; smell him; taste his kiss.  Was he feeling the same way?

She stopped, putting a hand to the wall for support as she thought about it.  What if it was love?  What did that mean?  Did it even have meaning when both of them were assassins; killers?  It certainly wasn’t like they could just give up their jobs and settle down—not that she had any interest in that at all.  So what did it mean, then?  Were they simply going to do this over and over again?  Eat, chat and sleep together…the life of murderers in love.

The thought of that sort of relationship was appealing and frightening all at once.  It was dangerous to have close ties when you did what they did, but at the same time, where was the value in jokes, sex and an unspoken agreement to never grow closer?  Her life was full of shallow relationships and surface conversation.  Did she really want one more, even if that one was with probably the most powerful Mindblade ever?

That thought made her smile.  Of course she wanted that.  Even if their affair was superficial, it was advantageous.  And when you were surrounded by ice-veined murderers, having powerful friends offered a lot of protection.  So she would settle for shallow, and maybe hope it could become deep.  She could adapt to whatever the truth became.

Her smile became a cynical smirk.  She had ever been one to adapt.  That’s how she’d gotten here in the first place.  Adapting as her body and mind changed; accepting what others could not; embracing what her friends and family feared.  She had left behind a High School sweetheart and a ‘normal’ life to be a Blade.  And here she found herself having the same old school girl thoughts about love and boys.  Maybe she needed death, blood and cold hearts in order to find life, love and warmth.  “The light always shines brightest in the darkness” she remembered hearing once. 

She let out a soft, irony-laced chuckle that became a cough then a choke.  Her body shook as she coughed violently and found herself leaning against the wall, suddenly dizzy.  Something warm and thick sputtered into her mouth as she covered it to cough again.  Hot liquid splashed over her palm.  She looked down at her hand. 

Blood.  A lot of it. 

Pain gripped her lungs as she tried to draw breath and wheezed instead.  She grunted and let out a soft cry, peeling her back from the wall and stumbling back towards the infirmary.  Two shaky steps, then the cold, wet slap of the tiled floor leaping up to meet her cheek.  Her head throbbed from the impact as the hall went blurry.

Her hands and feet went cold, but her heart, her stomach glowed with a soft intensity, a sureness where before there had been doubt.  As she laid there, blackness slowly conquering her vision, blood leaking from head and lips, Alise cracked a crooked grin and let her last moments of life be full of warmth, joy and a sense of wholeness.

So this is what love feels like.

*                      *                      *

Captain Rusal stood before the sleek metal door for more than a few moments.  He wondered why he was even doing this.  It wasn’t that he hated Alexi, or even wished the boy harm—quite the opposite, in fact.  He just hated seeing so much potential go to such waste.  The boy had all of the tools, but none of the discipline to make them work like they should—a pre-med student in the world’s most advanced hospital.  And judging by the kid’s usually stony demeanor, he wondered if Alexi would even care.  He was never one to show much emotion at death.  But then, how many assassins were?

His finger pressed the intercom button, “Alexi.  We need to talk.”

A long, lingering moment.  Rusal nearly hit the button again, thinking Alexi might be asleep, when the door slid open.  Alexi stood there looking sleepy-eyed, his raven hair a tangle.  “You woke me.”

The captain resisted the urge to punch the boy’s insolent mouth.  “I uh…I’m sorry Alexi.  I have some bad news.”

Alexi seemed annoyed, but didn’t have anything clever to say, for once.  “What is it?”

“It’s Alise.  She uh…she passed away a few minutes ago.  We found her in the hallway.”

Alexi stared ahead silently for a long moment, his face unreadable, “How?”

The captain shook his head slightly, “They’re performing the autopsy as we speak, but it looks like something with her lungs.  Probably genetic.  I’ll let you know when I know.”  Nothing.  Not even anger.  Rusal shouldn’t have been surprised.  Alexi hadn’t batted an eye when he had killed that little girl in Iraq, after all.  Of course he hadn’t been sleeping with her, either.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah.  Listen, Alexi, if you need…”

“I won’t.  Thank you, captain.”  And then he turned, shutting the door.

Rusal stood there for another moment, and then turned down the hallway, more disturbed than before.  It wasn’t that he expected Alexi to sob, or even show emotion for that matter.  And it wasn’t that he had seen the two of them leave the training room together only a couple of hours ago. It was that, on first glance, Alise’s death seemed like an accident; a fluke condition that the medics had missed; one of those deaths that catches everyone off guard.

So why didn’t Alexi seem the least bit surprised?