Angel of Darkness: Chapter 3

       Layla always woke up at six o’clock every morning regardless of the amount of sleep that she’s had the night before. Today, she was right on time and her eyes opened just as the first rays of sunlight shone in the vast canyon. Her cave faced east and was usually the first part of the canyon that felt the warmth of the sun as it flooded the entrance to her cave. She loved watching sunrise with a cup of warm milk and honey and some bread. She started a small, smoke-free fire with some dry wood and two pieces of flint. When it caught, Layla stood back allowing it to gather heat. When she was sure it wouldn’t go out she went around the bend in the cave to a hollowed out ledge to the right of the entrance tunnel. Though, she knew no one was watching, Layla had always been uncomfortable with changing with the whole canyon in view. Now, with the boy in there, she was even less willing to change in that area. Getting ready for her regular daily life, she put on a light blue tunic, which hung down to her ankles. It had no sleeve and was held together at the shoulders with two large, golden brooches. She slipped two golden bands up around her biceps as was the tradition. Girls should wear long tunics and bands around her arms. Boys wore short tunics that ended just above their knees and bands around their wrists like cuff guards. Layla braided her hair with gold colored strands of fabric so that her black hair would flash yellow and orange in the rising sun. She walked to the fire and hung a pot with milk over it and took a roll of bread and started to heat it. She made up her bed, which that day had just been a lumpy pile of sheets since the boy occupied hers. He was breathing easily, curled up on his left side and was facing the wall of the cave. The little boy looked so defenseless.
“I’m going to take care of him,” Layla said, just so she could hear the words out loud, liking the way they sounded.
She finished her milk and bread and began to go over her list of things that she would need for the boy -- clothes, more food, and another bed. Though the money she had taken from Khalid would easily cover it Layla wouldn't have needed it.  Assassins were paid a great deal. She would need the extra money to pay for his schooling though. She was sure that he would resist but, she would convince him. She didn’t want him to have to do what she did when he grew up. Also education always made people respect you more. In Kemet, a poor but well-educated person could get more respect than a richer person. That was why Layla went to school. For a girl, it was especially hard to get any real respect so she did everything she could to earn it.
Layla stood up and walked over to the sleeping prince. Softly, she caressed his hair and then shook his shoulder. His hand shot out quickly almost hitting her in the face. Only her quick reflexes allowed her to catch his wrist. She held it gently, surprised at how thin it was. Again, she shook his shoulder and his eyes started to open. When he saw the cave wall in front of him, he sat up quickly, and looked around, his eyes wide. He saw the cave opening out to the canyon, and the pile of sheets at the wall across from him. Then he saw her. He scrambled back against the wall, twisting his wrist out of her grip.
“You’re the assassin,” his dark eyes filled with fear.
For some reason, Layla felt hurt. She was used to people who knew who she was being afraid of her, but the boy had been different. He hadn’t been scared and that had been one of the main reasons that she’s liked him.
“Yes, I am,” she said cautiously.
His eyes grew even wider and Layla knew that he had been holding onto the hope that she wasn’t. He started to shake his head.
“No… I… I didn't… I wasn't sure… I just wanted to get away.”
"What do you mean?”
"I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to get away. It didn't matter if I died but I don't want to die. I was wrong I don't want to die."
"I'm not going to kill you."
Layla spoke to the boy like someone might speak to a frightened animal and she didn’t move.
“You’re an assassin. You’re going to kill me.”
The boy was starting to cry, which really annoyed Layla.
“No, I killed the man who ordered me to kill you last night. Do you remember that errand I had to run?”
The little boy nodded, tears overflowing from his eyes.
“I won’t hurt you. I helped you get away from the palace, right?”
The little boy’s hand went to the bruise that he had showed her the night before. He nodded.
“That’s what you wanted, right?”
He nodded again.
“Did I hurt you at all?”
He looked at her with wide eyes and shook his head. Layla stood up slowly and walked back to the fire. She put more milk on and warmed up another roll. She added honey to the milk and put the bread on a plate.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
The boy hadn’t moved an inch but tears were now steadily streaming from his eyes.
“It’s poisoned,” he sniffled.
Layla ripped a piece of the bread off the roll and, ate it and had a sip of the milk and honey. She put it back down on the ground. The boy didn’t eat it.
“I have to go. I’ll be back around four. There is food over there and if you want to leave, the tunnel over there’ll get you out. There are some bushes at the top. Just push through them. Go west to get to town.”
Still, the boy didn’t move.
“Okay then, bye.”
She started to leave.
“Are you going to kill someone?” he asked.
“Nah, kid. I’m going to school.”
The boy looked up in surprise and Layla smiled. She slipped on a pair of leather sandals and started up the tunnel. She’s gotten pretty good at getting up and out without messing up her dress or her hair. At the top of the tunnel, there was a cluster of rocks that had a hole under them. Layla kept her money there and she grabbed a bag of gold coins to pay for lunch and the shopping. It was Wednesday so she had to buy food as well as supplies for the Prince. Meat and fresh fruits didn’t keep long in the heat so Monday, Wednesday and Friday, Layla bought some more. As she headed towards the village, sand tickled her feet through her sandals. Layla loved the desert more than the water of Hellas. She supposed it was in her blood because the endless blue sky over the golden desert was way more beautiful to her than the ocean could ever be to her. The people who visited from Hellas would often leave with red, sensitive skin but the sun never bothered Layla or any of the other Kemetians. They all had similar features that protected them from it -- dark skin, dark eyes, and a tendency to tilt their heads a little forwards so that their face was rarely hit directly by the sun. The walk to the village took only about 5 minutes and it could be seen as soon as she stepped out of her cave. From there, it looked like a small group of really square rocks but she knew that in the middle of the adobe houses was an open air market place that even early in the morning would be filled with people. The houses weren’t very big because very few people actually spent their day inside. Houses generally had two bedrooms, one for the adults and one for the children, and a kitchen. The kitchen was only used by the women to cook dinner. Breakfast was usually a cold meal and people ate lunch quickly, usually in the market place. Women usually spent the whole afternoon in a sweltering hot room to cook. Men, on the other hand, would go to work, whatever that happened to be. Some men had stands in the market that sold goods, others had farms out of town, and others worked at the palace as guardsmen, servants, or advisors to the court. Others would go to work at Khalid’s oasis. Someone would find him and his seven guards soon enough. A huge battle would be waged concerning who now got ownership of the land because if Layla knew anything about Khalid it was that he did not plan to give the farm away to anyone. He would not have an heir and so the land would be given to whoever was deemed most worthy by the mayor of the town. No one knew who it would be. Layla banished these thoughts from her mind as she reached the outskirts of town. People started calling out to her.
“Hello, Layla.”
“How are you?”
“Do you want to buy some toad’s legs?”
Layla smiled and nodded back at everyone. She knew exactly who they all were and they all knew her.
“Hello, Layla. How is your mother doing?” an older man with twinkling eyes called out to her.
“Great Mr. Beb, my mom’s fever broke. The doctor said she should be good as new by the end of the week.”
“Good, good. She still won’t be coming to town though. I have yet to meet her.”
“No, no. Mr. Beb she is still too weak.”
“Well, tell her I said hello anyway.”
“Yes, sir,” Layla said and the continued on her way.
That was her cover story. Dead father and a sick mother that could not come into town so she was forced to do all the work on her own. According to her story, her mother’s family had been quite rich and after the war, she’d been the only living child so she had inherited all of her parents’ and grandparents’ money. This story was not unlikely as many people had come into a lot of money from deceased relatives after the war. Her father had also been a hard working fellow before the war and had died fighting bravely on the front lines. All of his money had been left to his frail wife. According to the story, Layla had enough money that she would not have to do much work for the rest of her life. As she walked through the streets, Layla greeted the women working in the houses and watched the young children dart in and out of the crowds, looking for something fun to do before the sun made the sand burn their feet. Her thoughts slid back to the boy in the cave, wondering if he had eaten or not. She still needed to buy some clothes for him and think of some sort of cover story as to why she was buying young boy’s clothes. She would also need more food than she usually had. She worried about it until she reached the school. The school was just an open patio with places of shade for the teachers and none for the students. Each teacher would teach a small group of students at a time. The school was an all-girls school. Since their parents had to pay for a girl’s education, the girls were usually pretty rich and they really wanted to be in school. It was their choice and it was a very special gift that they savored. The only reason they were sent to school, though, was so that no one would be able to cheat them and so that they would not be helpless without their husbands. In Hellas, women had a very central role in society and so it was different in Kemet. Layla was thought that in Kemet life was insanely unfair but she held her tongue. There was nothing she could do the change society. As she neared the school, two girls ran up to her. They were her two friends and two of the few people in the world that she would risk her life for. Dalila was tall, thin, and poised. She belonged to one of the main families in Kemet. She would make a great wife to whoever wanted her but she wasn’t beautiful. Not ugly, either, but not pretty. Or maybe Layla was just comparing her to Jamila. She was one of the few people in Kemet with really curly hair, where most had straight black hair. Some had slightly wavy hair but none had her thick, round curls. She was small, only about 4’ 9’’ and she had some chubbiness around her face and hips but that would be good for childbirth. Her face was beautiful , with large eyes, a small nose and full, red lips. Boys would let their eyes and thoughts follow her but none would actually pursue her because of her schooling. She was smarter and more knowledgeable than most of them and men hate being showed up by a girl. That was the main reason that none of the three girls had many suitors.
“Hey, how’s your Mom?” Dalila asked, worriedly.
She knew that the one thing Layla cared about more than anything was her mother because that was how she played it.
"Oh, she's better. Her fever broke and the doctor said that she should be fine in a week or two."
"Oh, that's good. It would be terrible if she got worse, right?" Jamila asked.
Layla nodded and hugged the two of them and they walked to their school, arriving just on time.
"Class time!" the head teacher said and everyone sat in their respective groups. After that it was just studying. They learned reading, writing, arithmetic, a little geometry, some astronomy, and rhetoric. Layla worked hard on everything. A teacher would come teach them a little of something and then move on to another group of kids while the students did some exercises. Sometimes it was hard for the teachers to keep up because the girls absorbed knowledge like sponges and filled out their exercises quickly but as lunch grew nearer everything slowed down. The sun really started to shine in the sky and the heat pointed on the back of the girls' necks. The heat started make even the most alert people, like Layla, drowsy. This time of day was true murder, Layla thought. In town, everyone would go back to the house and get something to each while lounging in the shade of nearby palm or the cover of a tent. Business in the market became slow as people disappeared into the little shade that the town offered. Merchants stayed at their stalls protected by the cloth roofs but not many people came around so they would kick back and start to eat the food that their wives had prepared for them. At 12:00 the school was let out for an hour so that the students could go and eat something. it was the only activity in the market from 11:00 to 1:00, the hottest hours of the day. They would buy fruits, chips, dried meat, and some milk or water. As soon, as their teacher called for lunch, Layla, Dalila, and Jamila put down their writing tablets and walked to the market. The three of them automatically walked to Mr. Beb's stall. He was their favorite because they were really close and he had a good variety and he was the only shopkeeper who would let them sit under his stall with him to escape the sun.
"Layla, Dalila, and Jamila! What a surprise to see the three of you here," he said, his eyes twinkling. They came to the stall practically every day.
"Yes, you see we got tired of the food we normally eat so we decided to go somewhere else, you know, for variety," Layla replied, cheekily.
Everyone laughed.
"Well, come on in and have your food."
The girls picked out some sun-dried tomatoes, sweet fruits, and some smoked beef. They didn't always eat the same thing but usually it was something very similar. For the next half an hour, Layla and the two other girls laughed and ate right along with Mr. Beb who had saved his lunch until the girls joined him. The girls stuffed themselves and then began their favorite activity of the day: relaxing. There were still some students in the market place. Most of them had left to their homes and shade but the ones who stayed were milling around, laughing.
"Hey, guys, guess what," one of the older boys said -- he was about Layla's age -- "I heard that Old Oba's son was killed last night. There was blood all over the bed but no son."
The other two guys' eyes widened.
"The Mask of Death," one whispered under his breath.
Assassins were famous in Kemet, almost more so than the king, and people knew how to recognize each of them because they each had their own weapons and special way of killing.
"Nah, they said that it was the Angel again. Had all the signs: men killed by darts, no witnesses, and six or seven unconscious guards."
"Six," Layla thought, "and three dead."
"How many died?" one of the guy's friends asked.
"Other than the king's son? Three guards, I think. You know how the Angel works. He only kills as many as he has to."
Layla was a little miffed to hear herself being referred to as a guy but that was also the most powerful part of her disguise. No one would expect a woman to be an assassin, much less a 15-year-old girl.
"Hey, boy," Mr. Beb said and the three boys walked over.
"Is that true? What you said? Ahmose's son is dead?"
"Yes sir. That is what I heard and there have been guards running everywhere. They also executed a bunch of the unconscious guards and a few others who were supposed to guard the boy."
Mr. Beb leaned back in his chair, his chin at his chest and his eye brows furrowed.
"I heard that Mr. Khalid Adjo was found dead at his house this morning by one of his workers. Seven guards dead and him with a slit throat."
The three boys stared at each other.
"Really sir?"
"Yes. The seven guards were on the roof with bows and arrows. I think they might have tried to ambush someone but that someone was able to kill them all and get away."
Everyone looked at each other in fear. Whoever was able to kill seven guards as he was being ambushed must have been incredibly strong, fast, and terrifying.
"Who did it?"
"Before I wasn't sure but I had a suspicion that it might have been the Angel. The men were killed by arrows that were no longer there. The torch was stuffed in the sand so whoever did it probably did it in pitch darkness. Do you know anyone else who can do that?"
The boys were excited now, but Jamila piped up.
"There's no proof that the arrows were shot in the dark. There could have been another torch or the torch could have been put out after shooting."
"Well, I guess," the first boy said, reluctant to take the glory away from the Angel, "but whoever did it still had tremendous skill at fighting."
He was quite good-looking actually. He was one of those rare people who didn't have black hair. Instead, his hair was brown and fell in a wavy pile on his head. He had a nice smile and bright eyes. Layla partially to help him out and partially to boost up her other image said,
"We know he did it in the dark because I guess no other torches were found since that was a special part of the report. Also, if he'd already killed all the men then why would he have to put the torch out?"
Everyone looked at Layla.
"It makes sense," the second boy said. He was tall and brutish, with large muscles and a slightly dull expression but he had kind eyes.
"Exactly, that's how we know he shot in the dark," the brown-haired boy said, and he looked at Layla almost hungrily.
Layla knew that look, having seen it often enough directed at Jamila.
"Well, it seems that the Angel is on a roll. These are more deaths than normal." Mr Beb said.
"Actually, that's not true," Layla said without thinking since she knew better than anyone the amount of deaths that occurred. Everyone looked at her and to cover it up, she explained.
"Remember three months ago there were six deaths every night for a week," Layla said.
She remembered that week well. Someone in the palace had asked her to kill 42 soldiers who had information regarding a policy that he did not want passed. These soldiers had gone each to the other six main cities in Kemet and she had been expected to kill them all before rumors of each other reached them. That had been an especially bad run because the murders had been all across the country and she's had to run miles and miles and miles to get to each of her locations. Then, she had had to get back to school before the rumors reached them otherwise people might have begun to tie her missing days to the murder days. If she sometimes had to take a day off for a job, she would claim that her mother was ill again. Still, disappearing for a week in which so many murders took place was pushing the envelope a little.
Slowly the market started to fill up with students again since it was time to go back to classes.
"We have to go Mr. Beb. See you later," Dalila said and all three girls kiss whim on the cheek and they were about to walk off back to class but the brown haired boy called out,
"Wait, what are your names?"
"Layla."
"Dalila."
"Jamila."
"It's nice to meet you. My name is Darius."
"I'm Omari," the brutish boy said.
"And, I'm Kosey."
Layla grinned at them.
"It's really nice to meet you."
"Totally, I'll see you tomorrow?"
Layla smiled her warmest smile.
"We'll be here."
"Okay, bye," Darius said and he walked off with his companions.
The girls kept their composure until the guys were out of sight and then started to giggle. All the way back to school, they giggled. The teachers snapped at them and had to threatened with a week of detention before they finally quit speaking. After classes the girls had to go their separate ways. Dalila went home to help with her six younger brothers and Jamila walked off to help her mother make dinner. The three girls kissed each other goodbye and Layla went to market. There she conversed with the shop owners while buying lots of  dried meat, fruits and vegetables. She also bought some clothes for the boy.
"Who's this for?" the shopkeeper asked because he knew full well there there was no one in her home who would wear it.
"My cousin is living with us now. His parents died recently and we're the only family he has left."
"I hope he won't cause too much trouble to your mother."
"I hope so too, though he seems like a nice kid."
The shopkeeper nodded and handed her the clothes.
"Goodbye Layla."
"Goodbye, Mr. Tikal."
It was around four when Layla got back to the cave lugging six bags of food clothes and sheets. She crawled in through the hole and put down her bags. The boy was still sitting on the bed, curled up against the wall but he had eaten the bread and the milk. A banana peel and an apple core were on the floor in front of him.
"Hey," she said and the boy jumped up, pushing his body against the wall as if he could just sink through it.
Layla simply started to unpack the things she had bought.
"I see you ate the food," she said.
He just nodded.
"Look at what I got you."
She held up a plain cotton shirt, some brown shorts and leather sandals.
"The clothes you are wearing look nice but they probably aren't that comfortable and they'll get you noticed if you go into town. Take these."
The boy didn't move so she just put them on the bed next to him and turned around to organize the fruits and the counter where she kept them. She had originally used the random outcropping as a bed but then hadn't had room for her food so she had decided to sleep on the floor instead of putting her food there. Layla turned and caught a glimpse of the boy fiddling with the buttons on his shirt before he snatched his had away. She walked over to him and knelt down in front of him, as much as she could in her dress, and tried to look him in the eye. It was hard to do, since he was trying to look everywhere but right at her. Finally, she was able to grab his attention. Speaking slowly and calmly, she said,
"I promise that I am not going to hurt you."
The boy looked back at her. His eyes no longer held as much fear as they had that morning.
"Promise?"
Layla nodded and smiled.
"Promise."
The boy looked at her.
"I have to pee."
Layla laughed a little and then showed him where she used for a bathroom. It was just past the area where she bathed where the water rushed by fast enough to carry her wastes away without bothering her at all. She walked back to the main cave, allowing the boy to pee in privacy. After a few minute he joined her. It was immediately obvious to her that he still didn't trust her. He always stood a few feet away from her and never trusted the food she handed to him, preferring to go pick fresh fruits or vegetables off the shelf. His eyes didn't leave her while she was in the room and he wouldn't fall asleep until he thought that she was as well. Then, over the next few months, Layla watched happily as he began to warm up to her.

Angel of Darkness: Chapter 2

The boy and Layla were hiding in the bushed by Mr. Adjo’s house. The sky was still dark and the moon still high. Layla estimated that time to be about 2:45. Next to her, the little boy was breathing hard from their run. Layla was sure that the young prince hadn’t run much during his time at the palace.
“What do we do now?” he asked wheezing slightly.
“Now I have an errand to run. You need to wait here.”
The boy’s eyes grew wide and his eyebrows furrowed.
“Why? I want to go with!” he whined.
Layla shook her head. It seemed that little prince was spoiled. She couldn’t have that.
“No, you see this errand I have to run will go a lot smoother without you.”
Again, the boy scowled.
“I can be good. I’ll do whatever you tell me.”
Layla smiled sweetly. Of course he would, Layla wouldn’t give him a choice.
“Whatever I tell you?”
The boy nodded excitedly.
“Okay then, stay here,” and with that she rose silently and walked off without giving the boy a chance to follow. She could just imagine him fuming in the bushes and she smiled gently. Mr. Adjo’s house was quite large. It was only one floor like most houses in the desert but it was spread out over a huge amount of land. Mr. Adjo owned the area around an oasis so his house was surrounded by palm trees and small shrubs. He was quite rich so he was able to afford this strategically place house and a few guards. Of course, Layla couldn’t be seen by the guards. The fewer people who knew what the Angel of Darkness looked like, the better. Mr. Adjo knew that and allowed her to climb over the walls and usually called the guards away from her preferred route of entry. Once inside, she made her way to the main pavilion. His house was built in the shape of a U, surrounding an open area used for parties or relaxing outside. Though being under the sun was not pleasant, inside during the middle of the day could be ten times worse. Mr. Adjo was standing by the only lit torch near a corner of the tiled pavilion. He looked different from the other Kemetians even though he had been born there and his father was a native Kemetian. His hair was dark but his skin paler than the sun would normally have allowed. He was leaner and taller than most people in Kemet but his Kemetain heritage was obvious in his dark hair and eyes. Mr. Adjo's story was not unlike hers. He had been raised in the north, though not in Hellas, by his mother and when she had died in the war he was brought back to his father's homeland. Most people said that that his father had been a wealthy business owner. Of course, no one could confirm that. Most of what happened before the war was only recorded in people’s memories and though Mr. Adjo searched everywhere no one seemed to know who his father was. He had risen to power by using any and all money he could get his hands on to buy a small area near the oasis and, by selling water, he was able to raise a small fortune and buy the rest of the land around the oasis. Now he had the reputation of one of the strongest men in Kemet.
Layla approached him carefully, quietly and only when she was a few feet behind him did she make any noise to make her presence known. He jumped a little as she allowed her feet to shuffle over the sandy stones of the pavilion. His black hair glinted in the torch light and his black eyes danced.
“So you have returned. That was quick.”
Layla just nodded. It actually wasn’t that quick for her. If she had killed the boy and hadn’t had to drag him along with her, she would have probably been back at least half an hour earlier. Mr. Adjo seemed to be expecting a real answer but Layla preferred not to talk about her missions with her employers. The fact that they hated someone enough to kill didn't bother Layla too much but if they wanted to know all the gory details, she often found herself repulsed by them.
“Well, here are the 1,500 yeli," Khalid said, gesturing to a money purse around his waist but he didn't make a move to hand it to Layla. She froze, all of her instincts screaming at her. She didn't want to believe that he would betray her but his guarded position and confident yet serious expression scared her.
"Goodbye Layla.”
Layla turned to leave.
“Layla,” Mr. Adjo said, “I can’t let you escape knowing I was the one who ordered the murder of Oba Ahmose’s son. I’m sorry but you won’t survive tonight.”
So it was a trap. Layla’s eyes narrowed and she took out her bows and arrows. From the roof across from her, Layla saw a glint of metal in the night and dodged just as an arrow cut through the air where her heart had been. It landed at Mr. Adjo’s feet. Layla let loose an arrow that flew through the night in the direction that the arrow had come from. She was rewarded with a muffled thump, and a shout of pain. Suddenly, three more arrows materialized out of the air in front of her. She swung her bow in a wide arch in front of her, hitting them to the side so that they just missed her stomach. She was badly outnumbered and they had the advantage of the shadows. Layla lunged at the torch behind Mr. Adjo and yanked it out of its holder, stuffing it into the sand surrounding the pavilion. Darkness closed around her like a warm blanket. She started to run towards the roof. Six arrows appeared over the torch in the sand, as if Layla would be stupid enough to stay in the same spot. Layla smiled. The six arrows had given off the men’s positions. She released six arrows, one after the other in that direction and heard each one hit its mark. Layla listened for a second to see if she could hear anything coming from the roof, anything at all that might alert her to the presence of another guard. Hearing nothing, Layla turned to face the other side of the pavilion. With her sharp eyes, the full moon was like the sun and she could easily see Mr. Adjo’s pale skin as he trembled against the wall where he had been standing. Layla walked up to him. She knew that he wouldn’t be able to see more than a vague shadow in the darkness of the night. She crept up to him until she was leaning over his trembling form.
“You tried to kill me, Khalid?” she whispered in his ear and he yelped and started to whimper. “Your men are dead. You should know better than trying to assassinate an assassin.”
A soft, cruel laughed slipped past her lips and he whimpered again. Normally, she wasn’t this cruel to her victims but Mr. Adjo had sent her to kill an innocent little boy and had tried to kill her. It wouldn't have been that bad, except she had trusted him and he had betrayed her. He needed to suffer.
“I’m going to kill you, you know that right?”
“No, no, no.”
“Yes, yes, yes. You see, I never told you this but I have only ever killed for three reasons. The first is, of course, money. The second is if someone who I believe will turn me in has seen my face. And the last is self-defense. You have plenty of money. You have seen my face and I have no doubt after tonight that you will turn me in to the next authorities you see. And you did attack me. That is three reasons, which is two more than I need.”
Tears started streaming down his face but Layla had become immure to tears. If the prince had cried, he would be dead. Layla took one of her black knives out of her belt and yanked Mr. Adjo’s neck back.
“Goodbye, Khalid," she whispered in his ear and then she slit his throat.
She let him fall to the ground. Blood started to pool around him and soak into the sand. Layla wiped her knife clean on his expensive dress shirt and walked up to the opposite roof. There were six bodies each with an arrow sticking out of their head or throat. Then she saw her seventh arrow. It was embedded in a wooden shield which had been left on the roof. She looked out into the night but saw nothing. Suddenly, behind her, she felt another person. She never knew what alerted her to another person’s presence. It could have been a shift in the air or vibrations in the ground or just pure intuition. All she knew was that suddenly there was a six foot tall man behind her. She spun and yanked her sword out of her belt. It was three feet long and as black as her knives. It curved at the tip like most Kemetian swords. She caught the other man’s sword mid swing and countered quickly with a jab at his ribs, which he deflected. He was good; most people were not fast enough to react to her jabs. He sliced at her neck and she dodged under the swing, simultaneously sinking her sword into his heart. He had done what most of her opponents did. He had forgotten the she was quite a bit shorter than he was an allowed her to slip under his defense. Stupid mistake. Her opponent fell back, his eyes wide with surprise. After she was sure he was dead, she used his tunic to clean her sword and arrows. Finally, she jumped down and glanced at Khalid’s body. He’d been her employer for a while. Layla had killed six or seven people for him but no one as important as the son of Oba. He’d always paid fairly, more than most other employers would have. Of all her employers, he was the one that she least expected to try to kill her even if he was known for tying up loose ends.
She looked over the barren desert. The moon cast strange shadows on the dunes and the rocks that had terrified her when she’d first come to Kemet as a nine-year-old girl. Now, they seemed more inviting than terrifying. Many things had changed. Layla knelt by Khalid and used his blood to draw a small dagger on the wall above his body. It was a universally known symbol for betrayal and it was rarely drawn in vain. Whoever found the body would recognize that Khalid had betrayed her, though they may not know who she was. Layla wiped her finger on his sleeve and ran back through his house taking a few bags of extra money and valuables..He owed that much to Layla for trying to kill her. She did one last sweep to see if any of his other guards were still roaming but she met no one. Leaving through the main gate for the first time ever, she darted through the palm trees back to the bushes where she had left the prince.
As she neared, she heard him breathing softly and evenly. A rueful smile spread across her features. The little boy had fallen asleep. Carefully, Layla lifted him up into her arms and started jogging as fast and evenly as she could so as not to wake him. Layla didn’t actually have a house. It was more like a base.  She’d found it by accident a year after she’d come to Kemet. She had been running near the cliff of a canyon, some men who had seen her kill a friend of theirs, following her. Still not quite efficient at hiding or killing, she’d searched for something to conceal herself behind and had caught sight of a patch of brambles nestled between a few rocks. She’d jumped behind them only to fall into a small tunnel, which gradually opened up into a cave that looked out over the canyon. It had most likely been hollowed out by the small stream which ran through the back of the cave. After scrambling up the passageway again, she’d killed the men who had seen her. That had been five years before and now the cave was stocked with everything that she would need; some food, an extra set of black clothes, lots of normal clothes to blend in during the day, extra weapons, and a bed. The bed was actually a few blankets wrapped around soft straw that was actually quite comfortable to sleep on. It's proximity to the capital, where many of her jobs occurred, was ideal.
It took her about an hour to reach her cave carrying the boy. Even if she hadn't been, it would have taken her a good 45 minutes since it was all the way on the on the other side of the town. When she arrived, she pushed the bushes out of the way and sat down on the ground. She normally crawled in on hands and knees but with the boy in her arms that was a little harder and she didn’t want to wake him. She dragged herself forward on her butt a few feet at a time until the tunnel became large enough to stand in. Carefully, so as not to wake him up, Layla lay the boy down on the bed and took off his moccasins. His soft breathing filled the cave and Layla felt a strange longing for human contact that she hadn’t felt in a long time. She caressed his forehead and ran her fingers through his silky black hair. He murmured in his sleep and Layla smiled, wondering what he was dreaming about. Then she stood up and started her routine. She didn’t kill often, once or twice a month, but she always did the same thing afterwards. She took off all her weapons and put them in a corner of the cave except for the ones that she had killed with that night. Those she washed in the small stream at the back of the cave, being careful not to get her wooden arrows or darts too wet. Those she carefully patted down with a damp piece of cloth. She recoated the poison on the darts that she’d used and then put them back with the other weapons. She unstrapped the knife from her arm and took the other knife out of her boots. She also slid the two knives that were strapped to the inside of her jacket out of their holsters and placed them with the other knives. Then, she took off her boots and her jacket so that she stood barefoot on the dusty rock of the cave. Her cotton shirt had no sleeves, revealing her strong, dark arms. She ate a few granola bars and washed them down with water . Then she started doing pull-ups on a bar that she had installed across the doorway of the cave. Then squats and then curl-ups also on the bar. Layla always exercised in the afternoon but when preparing for an assignment, she usually didn’t have enough time so she exercised afterwards. It also helped get rid of the extra adrenaline that had been released into her veins. After stretching, she washed off. She followed the little stream to the north until it intersected with two other underground streams. There, where the stream turned into a river, it was deep enough for her to submerge herself completely while bending her knees. She rinsed off all sweat and grime of the night, and then dried off and changed into a pair of shorts and a loose shirt that she used as pajamas. She lay some blankets across the floor on the side of the cave opposite to the boy and lay down.
As she tried to sleep, her mind started to drift. If the boy was going to live with her—She stopped herself.
“No, he won’t live here. I only promised to help him escape,” one part of her said.
“Well, are you just going to dump him in the middle of nowhere? He can’t protect himself,” the other part of her said.
“Having him live with me isn’t much better. I'm pretty sure that there are other people who are better suited to take care of him. I’m an assassin remember?”
“That doesn’t seem to bother him. Anyway, all that means is that you get good money and you can protect him.”
“I can’t take care of a kid. They need other things than money and protection. They need a mother. Do I look like a mother to you?”
“Well, it’s better than the alternative. Have you thought about what’ll happen if someone else takes care of him? Won't they wonder where he came from? Do you think he's old enough to keep his mouth shut?”
“He’ll tell.”
“Yes. Think about it. He's old enough to take decent enough care of himself. If you train him for a while you won’t even have to protect him.”
“All right, all right. He can stay, but there going to be a lot of changes.”
And with this thought, Layla fell asleep, allowing the darkness to go in through her skin and crawl into her mind until morning.

Angel of Darkness: Chapter 1

Layla was ready. She was always ready to kill. She enjoyed it. Well, no, she didn’t enjoy killing but she did enjoy the thrill of running under the dark covers of night and slipping through the shadows to sneak up on some poor unsuspecting person. She’d always enjoyed sneaking up on people. It used to drive her adoptive parents and brother crazy. Tonight, though she wasn't just innocently sneaking up on someone to pounce and giggle as they shouted and flailed. Tonight, her victims would be lucky if they had enough time to shout before they hit the ground. Still, for her, the only difference between the two was the pay it was much better for actually killing them. Layla looked up at the full moon. It was a little brighter than she would have liked but it would not upset her plans in the least. After all, her skills were way too good for a little more light to really affect them. Even so, she did enjoy the darkness. It really made her skills come out. Layla smirked internally. Her brother had no idea how suiting his nickname for her actually was. As the Angel of Darkness, she was most comfortable when there were fewer lights. Her main ability as an assassin had nothing to do with her skill at weapons. Many of the higher level soldiers could easily match her at that. What made her special was her ability to almost literally become one with the shadows. Even in broad daylight, she could just vanish and make herself unnoticeable by shrouding herself in the darkness of the shadows. She was able to not only hide in shadows but become one -- quiet, dark, and relaxed. Most of her employers would keep their houses fully lit with torches so that she would not be able to sneak up on them.  Little did they know that it would not hinder her much. It insulted her that they thought that it would stop her. She wouldn't kill them though not unless she was paid to do it. That was why Layla's favorite employer was Mr. Khalid Adjo. He seemed to trust her a little, leaving his mansion dark. He seemed to have dealt with many assassins before and was aware of the fact that just because she was an assassin did not mean that she wasn't trustworthy.
As Layla rushed away from his house, through the quiet streets of the town surrounding the palace, she made herself as unnoticeable as possible. The houses were small and dusty much unlike the brilliant fortress they surrounded, their only duty bring to provide the palace with anything it needed. All the other cities in the king’s domain were a few miles off into the desert so that an army entering would have to trudge through a lot of sand to get to the palace and would not have a chance to get more supplies. This, of course, didn't bother Layla, who was a desert rat, and a little sand was no problem for her. As she ran through the narrow, winding streets, a huge palace loomed out of the darkness. The domes on top of the sand colored towers were red and decorated with small plates of gold that curved into beautiful patterns. Tall walls surrounded the palace but walls were never a problem for Layla. As silent as shadows, Layla crept up to the wall and slowly hoisted herself up, finding tiny handholds that others couldn’t have been able to use. Once on the wall, she centered her point of gravity so that climbing the vertical wall became more like crawling along a flat marble floor. It involved centering herself in a way that brought most of her weight towards the wall instead of towards the ground. She had learned the trick when she had tried to escape some guards by climbing up the side of a rock face that should have been way too steep for her to do. She had managed after a lot of tries to thrust all of her weight against it and push herself up. Afterwards she had worked on her skills to hone them.
She made it to the top of the wall with ease and looked across the grounds of the palace. It was the only place in the desert with a thick carpet of vegetation. Irrigation systems and imported soil allowed a soft pillow of grass to cover the gardens. There was a small forest of trees surrounding the palace, which would make sneaking in without being seen so much easier. The moon let off a soft light that allowed her cat-like eyes to see almost everything. Layla allowed herself to drop from the top of the wall, landing on the balls of her feet and bending her knees to absorb the impact. Quickly, she flitted through the jungle of trees over to the palace. It was a little past midnight so the eastern side of the palace was obscured in shadows. Layla surveyed the nearby door that she was going to use to get into the palace. Two guards were standing in front of it. One looked ready to go to sleep but the other stood tall and alert. His hand was on his sword and his eyes scanned the landscape around the palace. He would be annoying to deal with, but not a challenge at all. Layla stole through the trees to the wall adjacent to the door and started to creep along it slowly. Normally she would have climbed the wall and dropped down behind them or climbed through a window but there were guards everywhere in the palace and her dark clothes would stand out harshly against the creme-colored pillars even in the dark of night. She kept on moving towards the guards slowly. Her ability was not infallible. She could still be seen if someone looked directly at her or saw her as she moved. She had to stay still until the guard was looking the other way. The tall guard turned his head her way and she froze, allowing every muscle not begin used to keep her standing, to relax. It was the first thing that she had discovered about walking in shadows; people were less likely to spot her if she ignored her instincts and relaxed. The guard’s eye passed over her without pausing and then it started to turn the other way. She started to move again but before she had even gone two feet, his head started to turn back to her. She stopped again and relaxed.  At this pace she wouldn’t make it to the door till morning. As the guard’s head turned the other way, she slipped a knife out of her belt and threw it at a tree. Her aim was perfect and it hit one of the higher branches with a soft thump. Both men tensed, ready for a fight. When nothing came running out of the trees at them, the taller guard said,
“I’ll go check it out,” in Kemetic.
He moved away quickly and Layla darted to the door. The other guard’s shoulders were slumped and his eyes were dull as he settled back into the same stupor that he had been in before. Layla wouldn’t even need to knock him out. The door he stood in front of was open. In the desert people never closed doors so as to avoid the heat and stuffiness that built up quickly inside closed spaces. Layla thought that she might have forgotten how to open doors and if she ever encountered one, she would have to break it down.
She kept on moving, her boots barely making a sound on the small walkway that surrounded the building. Within seconds she was standing behind the guard and slipping into the palace. Once inside she looked around to get her bearings. The corridors of the palace were lit by rows of torches so she had a pretty good view of the hall that she was in. The hall led to a bunch of hallways that lead to different parts of the castle. Layla didn’t know where the young prince’s chambers were but she did know where the servant quarters were because of the external architecture of the building. In the north, there had been a smaller building with holes in the roof to allow heat and smoke to escape. This was where the kitchens were and chances were that the servants lived near there. She darted down the hallway as fast as she could. There would be guards patrolling the hallways and she did not want to be noticed. Twice, she had to duck into what she hoped was an empty room to escape a guard. Finally, she made it to the servant quarters. Even at night, this part of the palace was hot and during the day it was like the inside of a volcano. Layla slipped into the first room she saw.
“Hello,” she whispered to the sleeping woman before clamping her hand over the woman’s mouth.
The woman woke up with a start, her eyes wide and she started to squirm against Layla’s strong grip.
“Shh,” Layla said in her ear, “I won’t hurt you. I just need some information. Calm down.”
Layla was glad that she had learned Kemetic when she had come there. She was fluent by now and the woman relaxed as she took in her words.
“Where are the prince’s quarters? Where does Oba Ahmose’s son sleep?”
The woman shook her head, her eyes fearful.
"I really need this information and I will stop at nothing to get it. Please tell me."
The woman shook her head again. Layla sighed and pulled a knife out of her belt. Her eyes filling with fear, the woman nodded fiercely and Layla removed her hand.
“At the top of the northeastern tower,” she whispered, tears beginning to stream down her face.
“Thank you. Drink this,” she said slipping a small vial out of one of the pockets in her jacket.
She rarely used these because they were so hard to find. She preferred to kill anyone who saw her face but this woman was innocent. She had just been sleeping when Layla had come in and attacked her. Layla had enough of a conscience that she would not kill her. The liquid in the vial came from a special flower that grew only in the seas surrounding Hellas and it would erase her memory of the last hour. The woman would think that she had slept well through the night. The woman started to squirm again, probably thinking that the vial contained poison but Layla forced it down her throat. The woman’s eye dulled and she fell back against the bed. Layla looked around to room. It was sad. There was one bed that woman barely fit on and a box of clothes. Layla could reach across and touch both walls with her arms. The conditions that she and the other servants lived in were despicable. She shook her head angrily and started to make her way to the northeastern tower. By an annoying coincidence it was right back where she had started. She walked and looked at the hall where the entrance to the tower was. There were four guards in front of the open door; each was looking down a separate hallway that led to the hall. One of them was looking right at her for a second but the hallway was dark enough that he couldn’t see much before she darted backwards. The area where they stood was well lit and, the guards being as alert as they were, there was no way that she could just walk up to the door without being seen. She would have to go the long way around. Layla placed her hands against the wall and started to climb. She went up until the roof was brushing up against the top of her head and then started to crawl sideways into the hall. None of the guards looked up or cried out in alarm. She made it all the way across the room and stopped above the guard on the far right. She wouldn’t be able to just crawl down and walk into the door. It was too well guarded so she dropped to the ground behind the guard. Her boots barely made a noise as she landed and she had pressed a finger in to his neck and shoulders and he fell to the ground, unconscious. Before the guard next to him could turn, he fell to the floor as well. The other two, hearing their companions fall to the floor, looked at her but then froze as two darts embedded themselves into their throats. These darts were deadly. The men had seen her face and there was no way that she could let them live. She took the darts out of their throats and ducked into the doorway that led up the steps. The unconscious guards would stay that way for another two hours so she had to get up and out as quickly as possible. There were no guards in the stairway leading to the tower but there would definitely be some at the top. The torches in the staircase sent flickering shadows across the steps but Layla wasn’t scared of shadows or dark. At the top, there was an open doorway. Layla, feeling sure that someone would be watching it, ducked down near the ground and poked her head around. She saw a small hallway at the end of which there was a door guarded by two heavily armed and very alert men.  They were staring straight at the door and there was no way that she could get to the door without being seen in the bright hallway. The walls were lined with so many bright torches that it almost looked like day. She drew two sleeping darts out of the holder on her leg, and with a flick of her wrist, the two men at the hallway dropped like stones. She darted past them and grabbed the darts out of their necks. Waste not, want not. Black mahogany darts were very rare and hard to get, not to mention easily traceable. Leaving a dart would be like leaving an address for them to find her. She opened to door to the prince’s room quietly and entered. The walls were light blue but in the darkness they looked more like the night sky. All around the room, toys were discarded and thrown about. On a four poster bed across the room, was a little boy, about ten years old.
Suddenly, he sat up.
“Are you going to kill me too?” he asked Layla, looking straight at her.
Despite her abilities as a trained killer, she jumped back in surprise.
“I saw what you did to my guards. I was peeking through the door. They’re dead, aren’t they? Are you going to kill me?” The boy had no fear in his eyes. He just looked curious.
“No one will come and help you and no one will know that I killed you. I will get away and you will die.”
“Okay,” he said.
He spoke in flawless Hellenian and how he had known that she spoke it as well, she wasn’t sure.  Layla stared at him. She wasn’t used to talking to her victims. She preferred to sneak up on them so they never really had a chance to talk. This was different.
“Your guards aren’t going to help.”
“I know, you killed them.”
“I do not. They are just unconscious. Actually, I killed two downstairs.”
The boy’s eyes widened a little but he still grinned at her.
“Okay, but you have to kill me right?”
“Um, yeah, sorry.”
“Okay.”
Layla stared again.
“Why do you want to die?”
“I don’t want to die but I don’t really care if I do you know. I haven’t done anything bad ever so I won’t go to hell. Heaven can’t be so bad.”
Layla continued to stare at him.
“So you don’t mind dying.”
“Nope,” he said.
Layla kept staring at him and reached to the knife in her belt. The boy’s eyes widened but he didn’t move. All of a sudden Layla didn’t want to kill him. She had never not wanted to kill a victim before. She usually had some incentive but this time the money wasn’t going to cut it. The boy’s expression was a strange mix of relief and regret as she took her hand away from the knife.
“Okay, so tell me. Why is it that you’re so accepting of death? Why is it that a eleven year old boy wants to die so badly?”
“My life sucks.”
Layla sighed. Was he just being melodramatic? Or was there actually something bad in his life? She couldn't tell.
“Hey, wait a sec,” the boy said, “How about you help me escape?”
Layla shook her head desperately. This little boy was starting to scare her a little. Who in their right mind would want to escape from their palace with an assassin that had been sent to kill them?
“I have to kill you.”
The little boy pouted.
“How about we fake my death. I have red ink that we can use as fake blood! We can put it on the sheets.”
“Ummmm….”
“Oh, please, please, please.”
Layla looked at his big hopeful eyes a realized that she could no longer kill the little boy. He was too innocent and undeserving. He was also one of the few people who knew she was an assassin and wasn't scared in the slightest. Almost without realizing it, Layla had come up with a plan to save him. There was an assassin known as Mask of Death. He killed his victims and then hid their bodies. Sometimes they showed up again, usually they didn’t. It would help not only the boy, but  the Angel of Darkness as well by relieving her of all suspicion.
“All right, you can come but only if you promise to do exactly as I tell you. Promise?”
The little boy nodded vigorously. Layla eyed him closely.
“Okay, I need that ink.”
The boy took out a bottle of red ink. She carefully spread it out across the sheets in the all too familiar pattern that appeared when she slit someone's throat.
“Okay put these away,” she said, handing him the empty bottles of ink.
She watched as he pitter pattered away. He was barefoot, and in pajamas. He couldn’t go running through the desert in just his PJ’s. Layla walked to his huge closet and searched for some clothes there. She chose a black silk shirt, a pair of black pants and some black moccasins. The moccasins had hard soles that would make noise if he ran but Layla could take them off with her knife. After laying the shirt and pants on the bed, Layla took a knife out of her belt and started to hack away at the string that held the soles to the shoes.
“Wow! That knife is black. I’ve never seen a black knife before.”
Layla just nodded and continued to carefully carve the soles off.
“Whatcha' doing’?” the boy asked.
“I’m taking the soles off of your moccasins so that you won’t make noise when you run. Put that shirt and pants on. The black will hide you."
        The little boy complied quickly. When he was dressed, Layla was surprised at how much he looked like her. Not only because of the black hair and eyes and dark skin, but also his smile the curve of his eyebrows and his regal nose were similar to hers. Looking at him, Layla saw her old self before her parents’ death; before she was forced back to Kemet, where her real parents had lived and died; before she’d escaped from the orphanage and searched the streets for a family and home. Layla shook herself away from the painful memories as the soles finally separated from the shoes.
“Now put these on as well.”
He slipped them on. The soft leather shoes didn’t make a noise on the stone floor.
“Okay, listen to me. If we are going to do this—"
“We are, we have to,” the boy said, his eyes filling unexpectedly with tears. “I can’t do anything here and Papa hurts me. Look at what he did to me.”
The boy pulled up the soft silk short and under it there were two black bruises about the size of a man’s fist. There was also a variety of smaller bruises that looked like a large man's fingers. Layla tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. She could never understand how a parent could do that kind of thing to their child.
“Okay,” she said, “I know, but you have to listen to me. If I’m going to get you out of here, I need you to do exactly as I say. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. You understand?”
The boy nodded.
“I need you to understand something else as well. I may have to kill someone. Can you handle that?”
“Yeah, totally,” he said, nodding, “My Papa makes me watch executions so that when I’m bigger I can handle it.”
Layla felt her throat closing up again. What sort of sick person makes an eleven-year-old child watch executions? Then she realized that she was probably about to do the same thing.
“Are you ready?”
He nodded.
“Stay quiet or else this won’t work and I will probably have to leave you behind.”
He nodded again. His dark eyes were wide with excitement and a little fear. Fear was good, Layla decided. It would keep him alive.
“Why am I doing this?” she asked herself but she couldn’t find an answer.
She took the boy’s hand and led him out the door. His two guards were sprawled across the floor. The boy stared at them as if trying to decide whether they were still alive or not. Layla tugged a little on his arm and they started down the stairs. The boy stumbled every few steps down the long staircase. Layla reminded herself that he did not have the same night vision that she did. She hadn’t developed it on purpose, like she had with her keen hearing and her intuitive knowledge of when someone was approaching her. Her ability to see relatively well in the dark had come on its own as Layla had spent countless hours practicing melting in the shadows. Almost carrying the boy so that he wouldn’t trip and cause a racket, Layla made her way down the dark stairwell. Finally, they made it to the door. Carefully, Layla peeked through the small crack of the slightly open door. She didn’t see anything except the 4 guards still lying on the floor, so she slipped out with the boy clinging to her hand like a lifeline. Together, they made their way back to the door that she had first come through. Both guards were still there -- one alert and the other snoring. Letting go of the boy’s hand she jabbed her fingers into their pressure points and they dropped like stones. The boy looked at her, his eye wide but not fearful. She grabbed his hand again and they ran through the tress. Layla stopped at the tree that she had thrown her knife at. She loved her knives and was loath to leave it behind. Also, black knives were just as uncommon as black mahogany and just as easily traced. She jumped down, landing gently beside the boy, when suddenly a guard appeared from behind a tall tree. He didn’t see them immediately and Layla allowed herself to relax back into the shadows purely by instinct but she felt the boy tense up next to her. The guards turned his head and saw them. Layla didn’t even think about it as she grabbed a dart out of the leather strap on her thigh and flicked her wrist. This dart would kill. Layla wasn’t sure if the guard and seen her face or not but she was not taking any chances. The boy gasped audibly as the guard’s skin paled and his eyes rolled back into his head. Luckily, there was no one around to hear him. They finished making their way to the wall.
“Climb on my back and hold on like a monkey,” she said kneeling down, allowing the boy to do so.
She swung her quiver around so that it hung in front of her and she took off the strip of darts on her leg and stuffed it in her pocket. The boy carefully avoided the knives around her waist and got on her back. He was surprisingly light but Layla still couldn’t climb the wall as she had before since she couldn't control his center of gravity. Luckily, there were plenty of trees on this side of the wall. She climbed one and used it to hoist herself onto the wall. Once there, she told the boy,
“Let go and sit here for a sec. Jump down when I tell you.”
The boy nodded. Layla let herself fall gently over the wall. She looked up at the boy.
“Jump,” she said as loudly as she dared. The wall was about twelve feet tall and the boy looked a little nervous about dropping that far down but he did anyway. Layla’s strong arms caught him easily. She set him down on the ground, put her quiver and leather straps where they belonged and said to the boy,
“Run with me.” She took his hand and started jogging at a pace that the boy could keep up with.

Poetry

So I realized that I don't post much poetry and it's not because I don't write it but because it is a lot more personal to me than my stories. Still I feel like I should post some and really I'm just saying this because I found a poem of mine and I feel the need to show it to you. It's definitely not my best and I have no idea what it means. My English teacher could probably tell me but since he's not here and I don't think he reads this blog, I may never know what I meant to say when I wrote this. Maybe you can tell me but probably not. Here, I give you a small view into the innermost workings of my mind.

The sun spreads over the mountain tops

Glittering on the brand new snow

I hear the birds singing and I know

angels are coming home tonight

Children's laughter fills me to the top

I wish to never feel empty again

Please never leave and listen to my last words

I'll never say anything else to you

Angels are coming home tonight 

So please wait until then to say goodbye

Angel of Darkness: Prologue

        The assassin was called The Angel of Darkness.
        Most people thought it was because of her terrifying ability to materialize out of the night and kill her victims without leaving a trace, but Khalid knew the nickname had originated before any of the killings actually occurred. When The Angel had been a small child living in Hellas, her dark hair and eyes had set her apart from the blond, blue-eyed people of that country. Her older brother had called her The Angel of Darkness after watching a play where a character by that name had looked like her. From the age of five her bother had called her “my little Angel of Darkness.” When she had decided to become an assassin, she had introduced herself to her employers by that name and it had caught on. Little did people know how much the name fit her in reality.
The Angel’s appearance was often described by the few who knew her identity as an Kemetian princess; And well, she acted like a princess sometimes, carrying herself with a strength and dignity that exuded her superiority over others. Kemetains were known for their straight black hair, curved eyebrows, and olive-toned skin and she was the perfect example of that particular stereotype. During her night job as an assassin, she only ever wore black clothes; knee-high leather boots with soft, flexible soles that didn't make a sound as she made her way across the marble floors of Khalid's home; linen pants covered by leather chaps and a tight black jacket that hung open to reveal an equally dark cotton shirt underneath. The clothes hugged her body, showing off her rock-hard stomach and thin waist. Her muscles were sinewy and smooth, coiled like snakes. As she stepped into the soft light of the torch that hung on the wall over their heads Khalid saw that she was as heavily armed as ever. Once, she had told him about every single one of her weapons. It didn't bother her to tell him because she knew that even if he did think to betray her, this knowledge would give him no advantage as she knew how to use all of the weapons exceptionally well. She was a walking arsenal. Hanging loosely around her waist, her leather belt held ten knives and a sword that were each as black as obsidian and as sharp as ice. Another leather strip, holding fifteen throwing darts, was tied around her left thigh. The Angel had told Khalid that half of the darts had a poison that would kill on contact and the other half of them were just sleeping darts. She was immune to both poisons. On her back, there was a black quiver filled with black arrows and a mahogany bow.  From what she had told him, Khalid also remembered the weapons that couldn’t be seen. Under her jacket, she had a knife attached to her right forearm with a clever release mechanism of her own design that deposited the knife in her had with a twist of her wrist. Another knife was hidden in her left boot and the black feathers that lined the bottom of her quiver were actually more throwing darts. There were probably some other weapons that she had decided not to tell him about but he knew better than to ask. He didn't know why she trusted him so much but he wasn't going to mess it up because she was quite useful to him.
“Welcome, Angel of Darkness, do you require anything before I give you your orders?”
“What must I do?” she asked.
Her voice was soft and sweet. Khalid was grateful that she spoke such flawless Hellenian. Khalid often got tired of having to deal with all of the Kemetic speakers.
“I need you to kill Oba Ahmose’s son.”
If the assassin was surprised, she didn’t show it. Khalid had made a deal with Oba, who was the king of Kemet, but the King, believing he was safe in his palace, had decided to neglect his payments. Khalid would show him how much of a mistake that was.
“And payment?” the assassin asked.
“It shall be granted to you upon your return. 1,500 yeli as promised.”
The assassin nodded. Khalid knew that she would not be worried about him breaking his word. If he did, she would kill him.
“Anything else?” the assassin asked.
Khalid looked at The Angel's face and shook his head, knowing that after that night, he would never see her again.

Super

New story. Yayz! I don't have any idea where this one is going. After all, it kind of just appeared out of no where about ten seconds ago. Normally, I'd write it on a paper and see if I'm still interested after two hours but since I have nothing better to do right now, this one is going straight to the blog. I apologize in advance if the story never ends.

The superpowers first began appearing at the end summer before my junior year in high school. This was probably the worst time the could have appeared because I was an emotional wreak. Why? Because my sister, who is probably the most important person in the world to me, went off to college. I don't know how many girls cry themselves to sleep when their sister leaves home for the first time but I did. For a whole week, I think I got a grand total of ten hours of sleep, most of it in one night, because I was too busy bawling my eyes out. There were too many memories with her in that room. We shared the room for as long as I can remember so every night before bed we would have long, drawn out discussions about everything and anything. I pride myself in saying that I probably know more about my sister than anyone reading this knows about them self. The same was true for her, after all, I told her almost everything, and anything I didn't tell her she figured out herself. It wasn't too hard for her to do since we are so. We look the same; black hair, green eyes, and red lips. When we wear the same clothes, the only way to tell us apart is by the fact that I am always three inches shorter than her (I hope to catch up at some point) and our facial expressions. She usually has a happy inviting smile on her face. People say that I need to show my teeth when I smile but I'm a little shy. She's a lot more confident than I am. I guess that's because I'm the younger sibling and because she is perfect. Her grades are always good, she's athletic as well, and popular. We are the same, I said it before, but since I came after, she's already done everything. I can't really beat her because I'm not better than her. So we are equally good at everything but she got all the praise and I am just the little sister. A lot of people assume that I resent her because of this but I don't. In a way, I don't really mind at all because I'm doing the best I can and so is she. The point is, we were really close and for the first time in out lives, we would not be together. I don't think she was as torn up about it as I was but I do hope she was a little sad. We dropped her off at college on the 25th of August. Five days later, (on the 30th for those who are too lazy to do the math) we heard about the superpowers. It came on the 6:00 news. They told us that recently people all around the globe had been found to develop unexplainable abilities. In Japan, there was a boy who had amazing hearing. Apparently, he had been sitting in his house and somehow heard police car sirens from three miles away. In South Africa, there was a girl who could go through solid objects. In Ohio, there were rumors of a boy having set a house on fire with flames shooting out of his hands.
"Folks, this is not a joke, this is the real deal. We still do not know the cause of these powers to develop but we will find out. For now, just be careful. They can be recognized by the black tatoos that appear on their arms when they are using their powers. If you or someone you know begins to develop powers, please call 911 immediately and they will come and help you out. "
I don't know who believed that bullshit. By help us out, they probably meant something more along the lines of lock you up so you can become our lab rat. I knew that if I knew anyone with powers, I would have kept it secret, even though the idea of powers scared me. Humans as it is always have power over one another. Some people are stronger, some people are smarter, some people have more money or influence and they always use that power over others. Bullies use their strength and their mean words to hurt weaker people, smarter people use their intelligence to get into better colleges, get better jobs, get money or they use it to tell people truths that they don't want to know. Everyone has power of some sort, even if it is something as simple as the ability to make people pity you. Either way humans already have that power over others so whose stupid idea was it to give them even more power? I have always been scared of people with power, my sister being the obvious exception. Since I have no confidence, I end up being the weaker one, after all, confidence is the best catalyst to power in the world. Someone without confidence, is a lot less likely to win anything no matter how much power they have. So, if you add to the scary superpowers the fact that one of the only people who had ever helped me out with my confidence issue had gone to college,it's not surprising that I wanted to shut myself in my room and never leave. That wasn't really an option though, so on September 1st, I went to school. Of course, everyone was talking about the powers. So far no one in the school had confessed to having powers but everyone knew that didn't mean no one had any. Luckily for me, my friends were not really the kind of people to gossip or make up rumors so I was able to ignore most of it. We pretended like nothing was happening. That first day of school was the first day in a long time that I saw my boyfriend. I apologized profusely for ignoring him during the my-sister-is-gone crisis but he, being the sweet guy he is only felt guilty for not being able to help somehow. So that was how everything started. Over the next few months, we saw videos on YouTube, and on the news of people who had powers. Sometimes it was hard to tell what was special effects and what wasn't but the world slowly got used to the idea of the Specials. That became their official name after a while. By the way, get used to is the perfect statement in this situation. I can't say that it was more than that. Very few non-Specials accepted them as part of society right away. I think everyone had the same fears I did, even if they couldn't put it into words. Specials were shunned the moment they "came out". I guess I'm not surprised, after all humans fear people who are different by nature. There was no way, in this world of discrimination that the Specials could fit in. I just didn't know how hard it was until I became a Special.

Kaya's Story

New story. This one just came to me while I was bored and I already completed it. It is more of a short story than a novel or anything and some people might argue that it isn't even a story. Say what you want. It is a bit long so bear with me. If you get bored feel free to ignore it. It is my personal opinion that if you get bored reading something it wasn't really worth reading in the first place. Stories are meant to be interesting. Look at me rambling. Anyway, here is the story.

I once knew a girl named Kaya. During summer, her usual routine was wake up at five. Go for an hour long run along the harbor until she reached the dojo where she studied Tae Kwon Do. There, after quickly eating a granola bar, she would proceed to do strengthening exercises for the next two hours followed by three hours of technique training. Then, she would stop for lunch. She usually spent her afternoons either at competitions or sparring with the other members of the dojo, usually men who stood at least a foot taller than her and had arms like pythons. She brought them down in one kick. On the weekends she went to the boxing gym instead, where she studied both boxing and kickboxing. In the evenings, she would hang out with her gang. Not the gang she was in but her gang. Some of the boys there called her Queen, some called her Boss, some just called her Kaya but always with respect. One person called her Honey.  Her gang was a nice gang. Just a group of misfits who had banded together to escape from the not-so-nice gangs. Mostly, they didn’t do drugs and none of them did anything worse than smoke. They didn’t vandalize and actually kept the parking lot that they hung out in pretty clean. Every once in a while they would get involved in an unavoidable scuffle with another gang but they never went searching for them and when they did get involved, they tried to keep the injuries to a minimum. Though Kaya’s capabilities greatly outweighed the abilities of everyone else, they still were all pretty decent in a fight, having been picked on a bullied for the longest time. When they had met Kaya, it had not been with the intention of creating a gang but to learn some simple martial arts to defend themselves. Even now, she would often give them tips and teach them moves from time to time. Every one of them was skilled enough that they usually didn’t even need weapons like broken bottles and bats to defend themselves, even if the other gang did. When they beat a gang they usually didn’t come back to bother them, though some were persistent. Kaya usually hung out with her gang until 10. Since she woke up so early, she had to go to bed relatively early as well. She would then go to her boyfriend’s house. They lived together. Though she was only 16, her boyfriend was 18 and living on his own in a small apartment. During the day, he would work very hard to pay it off. Kaya would undress and shower and come out wearing nothing but some underpants and a large t-shirt that she wore to sleep in. Her boyfriend, his name was James, had learned to control his erections a while back and though he was most definitely turned on by her, he didn’t want to have sex with her. Why? Well, first of all, she didn’t want to have sex with him quite yet. Though she sometimes seemed like a slutty boss woman, she was still pretty innocent. The other reasons were that he didn’t want a child, though he knew condoms could solve that but there were always accidents and also, he wasn’t quite sure that he was ready either. A lot of people assumed that a good-looking guy like him had already had sex at age 18 but that was not how he had been raised by his Christian parents. Though he had dropped most of their customs when he moved out and his belief long before that, the ideals that he had been following all his life still remained. So every night they lay in bed in each others arms. It had taken them both a while to get over their nervousness enough to actually fall asleep at first but now they were almost like a married couple. The guys in the gang were all under the strong impression that that was how all relationships should work. Most people who didn’t know the couple well, wondered if they were crazy. That was only because they always got the wrong impressing about the young couple. After all, Kaya was actually pretty enough. Her face was cute. She had a button nose and large brown eyes with crazy long lashes and a child’s smile that reached all the way to her eyes. Her hair was a soft brown color and it fell in smooth waves to just past her shoulders. Still, she wouldn’t have been more than cute if not for her body. Constant working out and a pretty healthy diet had given her a beautiful body. She had a flat stomach, decorated with the soft lines of a girl’s six pack. Since she often ran outside and even fought outside, she every inch of her body was tanned with the exception of where her shorts and her sports bra hid her skin. All over her body there was not even a hint of extra fat. Not only that but her grandmother had passed a relatively big chest to her. She was a C cup. Not too big but for most girls with a thin body like hers, B was the best they could manage. No guy failed to notice her body. At the same time they never failed to notice the guy on her arm. Kaya was 5”4’. About the perfect height for a fighter in her opinion but James was 6’2”.  This put a full 10 inches between their heights. Not only that but James was a boxer as well. He had broad shoulders and rippling muscles in his arms. He was one of the nicest people you would ever meet, if you allowed yourself to get close to him because no matter how you looked at him, he was a scary guy at first sight. So imagine you’re walking down the street and you see them together. A pretty girl with that over confident expression that only martial artist and gang leader can get and a big, kind of scary, guy next to her. As a couple, they were intimidating and they looked like they had rough sex every night. What very few people outside the gang knew what that they honestly and truly loved each other. They weren’t together for power or because they just needed a lot of sex and the other person was always willing or any other reason that most people assumed. They actually truly cared. Anyway. In Baltimore, the city where all of this happened, Kaya was known as a gang leader by street kids, an amazing martial artist by the sports community and by any other adult who knew her, a delinquent child who had been kicked out by her rich parents. Kaya had been born into relatively rich family but because of her refusal to follow in the family business, her parents had cut her off, which was why she was living with her boyfriend. But I didn’t get to know that side of her until much later on because at school she was a totally different person. You see, while her parents cut her off and refused to see her, they still had hopes that she might follow in the family business because otherwise they might have to give it off to someone else. You see, Kaya had one younger sister but Carolina was not quite as bright as her older sister. Yes, she had a charisma that would make people flock towards her, which was important as a business leader but when it came to actual intellectual stuff and learning, her sister was not quite up to snuff. No, Carolina’s talents lay in getting people to love her. She was kind, happy, and always helping others. She wasn’t quite as pretty as her sister but she also had the same cuteness about her. At school, she was always everyone’s favorite mascot and everyone wanted to be friends with her. Both their parents knew that if the sisters worked together they could very quickly lead an empire in business but, while Kaya could have led a small empire on her own, Carolina would need just a little help in the actual business department. So all in all, Kaya’s parents still had hopes that she would lead that empire that they had left behind for her so they sent her off to boarding school. That was where I knew her. At boarding school everything from her personality to her interests were different. She hid everything about the real her, shedding of her gang leading-martial artist skin the moment she stepped on campus. I understand that she wanted to hide her gang life. After all, the school we went to, while not quite as strict and pompous as other private boarding schools, was still a private boarding school where students were expected to have a certain amount of decorum. Plus, Kaya understood what her parents wanted from her and while she refused to give up martial arts and take over the empire, she did understand the benefits of a good education so she always did her best to not get kicked out. And she was very good at it. Kaya was a genius. She took relatively difficult classes and somehow, without studying, was able to pass them all with A’s or high B’s. In her book, anything below an 80 was a failing grade while plenty of other students would have been happy with a 70. Her PSAT scores were just below 200. Everyone who knew her, had to admire her mind because it was sharp as a knife. Most people would have approached her a become friends with her, even if it was just to siphon off her intelligence but unlike in Baltimore, where she led a gang and had a boyfriend as well as multiple friends at the dojo and boxing gym, at school she was quite unapproachable. That was what happened when you hid an entire chunk of your life, you stopped trusting people, or more like you stopped trusting yourself to shut up about it. You also keep people at arm’s length so that they aren’t able to even catch a glimpse of that life by accident. So at school, she had a couple friends but even so it was not strange to see her sitting alone in her room on a Saturday evening. These friends, while they like Kaya had also resigned themselves to the fact that they wouldn’t really be seeing much of her all the time. For Kaya, who was not an unsociable person, this could be torture sometimes which was why she got into reading manga, usually the ones centered around martial arts and trying to see if they were actually physically possible. Some were, most were not in any way possible but she enjoyed reading them none the less. At school she also avoided guys like the plague but if you didn’t know about her other lifestyle, you probably would not have known. You see, in Baltimore, most of her friends were guys. All of the members of her gang were male and most of the people at the dojo and the boxing gym were male as well and she seemed to get along better with guys anyway. At boarding school she had a couple guy friends but considering how much she was surrounded by guys in Baltimore, having so few guys around really annoyed her sometimes. Still she was determined to not let that other side of her life show. To do this she sometimes when to extremes. So that people would not ask why she was so fit, she always wore baggy clothes under which she could have been thin as hell or relatively chubby. She let people assume what they wanted but nudged them in the chubby direction by avoiding sports. She did not run and whenever she was expected to lift something that was a little heavy, she would feign weakness, though she was most likely a lot stronger than most of the guys in her grade. During yoga, which she was required to do if she wasn’t doing a sport, she would do as little as she had to so that she would appear a little lazy and not very strong. She was also required to do one team sport a year so she did Ultimate Frisbee in the Spring, keeping a watchful eye out for everyone else to see when they got tired so that she could feign it as well. Some people who were sharp enough to realize became aware of the fact that her body was actually quite athletic with long legs and slightly broad shoulders but she always denied any sports activity at all and lazed around all day to strengthen those assumptions. By the end of the year no one who knew her would have ever mistaken her for a sporty person. I was one of her few guy friends. We talked from time to time but I never really thought about her as more than a friend because I was superficial and thought that I only liked girls with pretty bodies, (little did I know). That was until I discovered her secret. One day, Kaya disappeared on one of her random I’m-not-going-to-be-sociable-anymore moments. We always assumed that at these times she was in her room but I discovered that day that she wasn’t and that she spent her sports free afternoons doing other things. Now this happened in March of our Junior year. Kaya had already been fooling us for two and a half years about what she really was. Anyway, I just happened to find her by chance. You see in the afternoons, when everyone else was doing clubs and sports, we had assumed that Kaya was just lazing around but we had been wrong. Everyday while we were sweating our asses off, she was doing the same. She would go down to this section of the woods between the lower fields and the river and work her ass off. For a martial artist, getting out of shape is the worst thing ever and the food at school was not really healthy enough for her to stay in shape simply by lazing around so every day she would go out into the woods and work out.  She found a nice tree there and tied rope and cloth around it to use as a kicking and punching post. She used low branches on a tree to do curl up and pull ups and she would run around the forests for at least half an hour to get her cardio going. Everyone wondered why her hair was always a mess and the answer was because she was always working out in the afternoons but she couldn’t shower before dinner without seeming weird and so her hair was always a mess. Anyway, I happened to find her completely by accident. You see I’m on the crew team and so the path down to the boat house runs alongside the woods where she practiced. Me and some friends were waiting for our crew race to start one day and were throwing a baseball around. One of them threw it a little hard and it flew into the woods behind me. I was sent after it. I used to wonder everyday what would have happened if it had been one of the other guys who discovered her but I found out after a while that I was not the only person on campus who she had sworn to secrecy. Anyway, I ran after the ball and saw her there kicking a tree wrapped in rope over and over again. She was dressed only in shorts and a sports bra and I was able to see the strong muscles in her stomach, shoulder and arms. As she kicked the post, her legs muscles flexed and created strong lines all up and down her calves and thighs. A bead of sweat dripped down her head. “Kaya?” I said, not really sure whether to believe what I was seeing. Kaya turned on me so suddenly that I was afraid that I would become her new kicking post. “Shit, Daniel, what the hell are you doing here?” “Getting my ball,” I replied. I was a little scared of her at the present moment so the idea of giving her my usual snappy reply didn’t even come to my mind. I saw her eyes drift to the ball in my hand and then back to my probably incredulous face. “Whatever,” she said and proceeded to continue kicking the post. I didn’t move an inch. “Get out,” she said, “and if you tell a single person what you saw I will kill you.” I heard the threat in her voice. Though there was no killing intent, I understood that if I told anyone, I would get myself into serious shit. “Why not?” I asked once again fearing for my health. Kaya stopped kicking her tree and turned to face me. “No one needs to know okay? Just leave it at that.” I didn’t know what to say so I left and I knew even before I was fully aware of it that I would keep her secret and not just because she threatened me. In her last sentence, I had heard something. If it had been anyone but Kaya I would have called it pleading or desperate but she was Kaya and neither of those words fit into her personality. For her, people finding out about this secret would not be a good thing, so being the gentleman that I am, I kept my lips sealed. Since that day I tried to get her alone as much as possible so that I could question her on why she was choosing to hide that side of her and I began to realize something. Though she never told me anything other than to please shut up, I noticed a change in her when we were alone. It seemed that the moment I had learned about the martial arts, I got to see the whole other side of her. She was harsher than usual but also more sociable. When I was with the gang leader Kaya there was never an awkward silence. There were silences sometimes but that was usually because she told me to shut up. Though she was not as sweet or soft or kind as the Kaya I knew, she was still nice enough in more of a street way. She was more confident and stronger when she was gang Kaya and I grew to like gang leader Kaya more than the one she pretended to be around others. “Why do you completely change your personality around when you are around others? Like, I understand the martial arts a little bit and maybe why you hide them but I don’t see why you have to completely act like a different person.” She looked at me from below in a way that makes you feel like you should shut up really soon or you’ll get a fist in the face and I expected her to tell me to shut up again but instead she actually gave me a real answer. “It’s hard for me to show this side and not everything. Plus, the way I act around them is still a part of my personality. You know those really big, bad guys who are punks all the time and they are harsh all the time but then you show them a kitten and they act totally different? Well, I’m like that I guess and you people are my kittens.” I wasn’t sure how to answer to that so I didn’t. None of her other friends noticed the small changes in Kaya. She could have been an actress and I actually recommended that to her. “Yeah, you could be like an actress in an action movie and you could do your own stunts and everything. It would be totally awesome.” After I said this she looked at me with such a strong are-you-kidding-me face that I actually stopped believing it for a second. Still, that thought she would have been an amazing actress after all the practice that she got at school. That was something that I didn’t understand at the time. She wasn’t really acting. What she had told me had been completely true but I think I can explain it better than a big man and a kitten. Think about how you act with your friends, your parents, your siblings, your teachers, or with strangers. The answer to all of these is different. Just like you automatically act differently around your teacher and your friends, Kaya automatically acted different around her friends here and the people who knew about her martial arts background. But still throughout most of the rest of my junior year, I didn’t understand why she hid it. Finally, just a week from the end of school, she told me. “I’m actually a gang leader.” For the rest of the week she told me most of what you see here and the rest I deduced on my own. You see for her, martial arts and gang life were incredibly connected. She was in a gang because of martial arts, she had taught the people in her gang martial arts, her boyfriend was a martial artist and every day after practicing martial arts she would head out to the gang. The reason she didn’t tell anyone about martial arts had nothing to do with the martial arts but with the gang. After all she might have been asked to leave the school and it might have ruined her chances of getting into college if they had found out about her gang. So she kept quiet and she kept her gang/martial arts personality away from everyone and became the perfect student. I know that there were a couple other people at school who knew about her martial arts but of those I think I may have been the only one she ended up telling about her gang life. So I’m  writing this down. No one has to read it really. In a way, I don’t think anyone should read this because this is her secret. All the same, I needed someone to know now that she’s dead. For the past 63 years I have been keeping this secret and I know I’m not the only one who knew it but I think I’m the only one who will tell it. In the end, Kaya did what she wanted. She became a top tier MMA fighter and opened up her own dojo after getting a degree in business at Yale. She never did end up taking over her father’s company but Carolina married a very proficient young business man who agreed to keep the family name going so that problem was solved. Kaya did end up marrying James and they lived together in Baltimore for their whole lives. I realize now that I am writing up this story that I was in love with Kaya at the time but I didn’t notice maybe because some part of me knew full well that I was not ever going to get her. Anyway, this is her story. Do with it what you want but make sure that everyone learns about her because I don’t want Kaya to be forgotten.