His victim was a branded traitor, fourteen and already a turncoat, and for the better part of a week, she had kept his jaws from her throat. Jaffar was the best in the business, though, blazing a gunpowder-trail through corruption and abuse of power, and no amount of trickery would throw him off her scent. She could run her whole life, never sleeping the same place twice, and still he would find her.
As it was, Jaffar didn't need to wait a lifetime to track her down. Nino wasn't close to the only street kid in Bern, but she still wore her Black Fang tags around her neck and she still carried her gun. A few quiet inquiries whispered to the right ears directed him to her, and then all he had to do was wait for the right opportunity. He had staved off her execution before, when she hid under the overhang of the Bern City Bank, for there were a thousand witnesses and any one of them could turn him in. He had let her live when she slept in the tunnel of the elementary school playground, for the police hung around like a murder of crows and he didn't dare risk those odds. Nino made a mistake, though, when she hid under the overpass along the banks of the Heimat River, and so he stalked her to the edge of town like a vengeful spirit and settled in to wait. Jaffar never moved too rashly; he hunted like a hawk, perfectly still on a branch until his prey looked away a second too long, then his talons bit into them.
It wouldn't be long with her, though; Nino slept fitfully, wrapped in misery and a dog blanket, her back to him. Several of the poor, the homeless, the forgotten, huddled in the same area, but Jaffar couldn't foresee trouble from any of them. Most were Sacaen, their slanted eyes flickering suspiciously to him, but no one stared long at those with guns. To a one, they turned and pretended they'd never seen him, never seen the poor girl that he crept up behind, gun in hand.
That was when he made his first mistake: he hesitated. Jaffar, the Angel of Death, the Black Fang's greatest hitman, stopped cold when faced with a tiny teenager. Previously, he had reason to delay her death, but under the overpass, away from any consequence and excuse, he still paused. The half-healed stab wound under his ribs stung as if reminding him of his own shortcomings. Nino had saved his life once, dragging him into a warehouse and bandaging his wounds when anyone else would have gutted him and taken his place. Honor demanded that he trade a life for a life.
Honor also said that it was the cleaner's job to put down a rogue comrade, not his. Of course, the cleaner had reneged on his honor a long time ago when he abandoned the Black Fang, and the Angel of Death never had any need for honor besides.
Then why am I hesitating? Jaffar thought. I have orders. I am to kill.
Instead, he made his second mistake: he shook her awake.
Even with her mind hazy and sleep-drunk, Nino fumbled for her gun and struggled for a fight. It was not a long one. Jaffar had three years and eighty pounds on her, and he had her in a chokehold in an instant, his gun to her temple.
"Don't move," he said.
"Jaffar?" she asked, voice doubtful, hopeful, a half dozen things he couldn't read.
"You have betrayed the Black Fang. You know the penalty for your crime,"
If she had fought him, kicked, hit, yelled, he would have killed her in a second. He had a tiger's hunting instinct in him, and he would have been unable to deny his nature. Nino instead went very still, silent for so long Jaffar wondered if she'd died from fright and done the job for him.
"I won't resist," she said after a long while.
It was then that he made his third mistake: he cared.
"Why did you do it?" he asked.
He threw his life away over that "why."
"He was innocent," Nino said. "Zephiel, I mean. He's not even my age! He never did anything wrong! My brothers said we never kill someone unless they're bad, so I didn't."
"Foolish," Jaffar replied, but he couldn't pull the trigger. He was barely seventeen, but even so, she was so, so young. His was a seventeen made of the smell of blood and the feel of a weapon in his palm, of soft footsteps and hard eyes. She only knew guns from the firing range and from the toys her brothers let her play with, knew murder from the heroic stories they told, and it made her seem a dragon's age younger than him. Too young to have been given that job in the first place. Too inexperienced. The Zephiel job was the most important the Fang had; why had Sonia sent a barely-trained girl to do it instead of him?
"Jaffar?"
He let her go and holstered his gun.
"Come. We cannot stay."
She grabbed her gun and her ratty blanket and followed him without protest. Nino trusted him—Jaffar couldn't wholly understand why. He could be leading her into a trap, or moving somewhere more discreet. He could be returning her to the Fang so their full righteous fury could crash down upon her head. Yet she followed at his heels without even the paltry safety of a drawn gun.
"I hope you aren't doing anything dangerous for me," she said.
He couldn't honestly reply. His life was already over. It had ended when he'd been stabbed in the side a week and a half ago, ended when he woke up, very much alive, with Nino's hands tying off his bandages. Jaffar had been living on borrowed time since, and he knew that would be cut short sooner or later. Danger meant nothing to him.
"Why were you chosen to kill the prince?" he asked.
"Mother said it was because I was her daughter," she replied, "and so I could be one of the best Fang members one day. She said she believed in me."
"It was a set-up," Jaffar said simply, and he knew it was the truth the second the words passed his lips.
"No, you must be mistaken. Mother said—"
"I asked for the job. Sonia said she needed me too much for it," he cut in.
"Where are we going? I want to see Mother," Nino said, digging in her heels.
"Nino—"
"I have to know! You've got to be wrong!"
"She sent me after you. If you want to live, your questions will have to wait."
She subsided into sullen silence, but she still followed him. He liked that about her; she was smart enough to formulate her own opinions, rejecting the clockwork obedience that was all he had ever known, but she was also smart enough to listen when her life hung in the balance. Jaffar could see her becoming deadly one day, that handgun of hers painting cold justice across all of Bern. Of course, that relied on her living long enough to tell of it, and that was where he came in.
He led her to a little alley between a fishery and a shipping warehouse. His motorcycle leaned against the wall, but he didn't worry for it; the angular Black Fang symbols painted along the sides scared off any would-be thieves, and the Fang had enough money to throw around to get him another if he needed it. Jaffar couldn't rely on that anymore, though, but that was a concern for a later day. He swung a leg over his bike and looked over at Nino.
"Are we running away?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Where will we go?"
"It doesn't matter."
She smiled stiffly and climbed up after him. His bike was not built for two, had never carried two, but Nino slid easily into the space behind him, her arms wrapping around his waist. He couldn't help but stiffen at the contact, but he reasoned that he could perhaps get used to it.
That was when Ursula stepped out of the shadows.
"What exactly are you doing, Angel of Death?"
Jaffar's eyes flickered behind her, to the rooftops, behind the trashcans. He could see the shadows of people everywhere he looked. He cursed himself for being so careless as to let anyone sneak up on him.
"Sonia said you were taking too long, so I came to see if something had finally managed to slow you down. Who would've guessed that you, of all people, would go soft?"
He could feel Nino shifting behind him, trying to go for her gun.
Jaffar keyed the engine before she could put them in danger, and with a pair of shots, took out the men on the roof. The roar of his engine cut out anything else Ursula had to say, then he was careening down the streets.
"We have the lead now, but we won't for long," he said, hunching lower over the handlebars in an effort to reduce air resistance.
"I know," Nino replied. "We should head for the border. They'll have less power in Ilia."
"Not Ilia. We'll never make it."
"Lycia, then. It's four hours away, right?"
"Four and a half," he said. Hot adrenaline set in, filling his blood like lightning, and his eyes flickered to his mirrors. Ursula's blue car was already behind them, a couple of her associates pursuing on their own motorcycles. She had her mobile phone sandwiched between ear and shoulder, and a gun in one hand.
Jaffar turned into an alley, hoping the narrow street would deter Ursula in her bigger vehicle. There were enough side roads that it wouldn't keep her off his tail for too long, but it could at least delay the moment when someone started firing.
Nino tightened her grip on him.
"You should turn me over," she said quietly. "Then you'll be okay."
He turned and took a shot at the Black Fang man behind them. Jaffar wasn't used to shooting with a passenger, though, and his bullet cracked harmlessly into the wall. It at least gave his pursuer something to think about, though.
"I am saving a life of worth. That is all."
"Jaffar!"
Her angry shout morphed into a squeak as he cut a tight turn back onto the street. His pursuer matched him, taking a few shots of his own. Nino shivered against Jaffar as the bullets whizzed by.
"Do you have your gun?"
"Yeah," she said, "but I've never been on one of these before, and Lloyd never really finished teaching me…"
He swung wide at the light, firing twice as he did. The man behind him tumbled backwards, his bike crashing into a parked car. Pedestrians stopped and stared, but no one called the police. Bern's government held a notorious laissez-faire attitude towards the Black Fang; it was the worst-kept secret in the province. It meant that no one would interfere with their gang's falling out, that no one would seize him and Nino, but it also meant that no one would offer them sanctuary or assistance. They sorely needed it, too; Ursula had found them again running them down like foxes, her sports car gaining on them at a frightening pace.
"Can you outrun her?"
"No."
"Oh," she breathed. Her heartbeat thudded like machine gun fire, hard enough for him to feel it, and he grit his teeth. Maybe it would have been better to kill her in her sleep, swift and painless, sparing her the panic that made her fingers bite into his sides and her breath come quick and shallow.
He cracked Ursula's windscreen with a shot, then cut through a parking garage. His bike squealed in protest as he ramped it onto the curb and past the toll gate. Jaffar's thoughts chased each other in circles as he drove higher and higher in the building. Ursula couldn't follow without paying for parking, and that would slow her down enough to lose them. They couldn't get out without ditching his motorcycle, though. If it was just him, Jaffar knew he would be all right. He could pick off Ursula's men one by one, disappearing into the shadows, sparking fear in their hearts. He could jump onto the upper railing and use the fire escape across the way to go to ground, then slink away in the crowds. But Nino moved too slowly, too loudly, her aim too unreliable, and she would never make it.
"We can't park," Nino said. "No time. Mustn't waste what we have."
We might have to, he thought. We're living for the next minute, nothing more. Anything that buys us that is good enough.
"What about the service entrance?" she asked as he chanced another glance behind them. Nothing in sight, but he could hear the engine of Ursula's car a level down.
"Hm?"
"The service entrance. They bring the cops and stuff through there. They've got a ramp up to all the levels in case of fires and all."
Jaffar's eyes darted to where she pointed—an unadorned door with chipped paint and a clunky lock. He fired a few rounds at the hinges and watched the door sag pathetically.
It still took the wind out of him and crumpled the front of his bike when they crashed through it. He could feel the bruises forming along his arms and chest, but he seemed to have shielded Nino from the worst of it. The shouts of the Fang behind them hadn't fallen too far behind, but it was another moment that they still breathed, so he would take it. His pistol was out of ammo, though, and he holstered it with one hand as they spiraled down the ramp.
"Give me your gun," he said.
"It's an Elfire .45. Is that okay?" she asked as she clumsily passed it to him.
Not his ideal, but serviceable. He chambered a round with one hand and cocked it, his fingers wrapping around the grip. It was hard and unyielding; Nino clearly hadn't used it enough to leave her own mark on it. Jaffar favored a simple KE 9mm. Quick, quiet, concealable. The Elfire was clunky and bigger than he was used to, but it wouldn't throw off his aim, and it wouldn't spare their enemies.
They tore back onto the streets, racing down the road. He wove in and out of cars like a true Bern citizen, ignoring their honks and yells.
"The Black Fang markings on your bike give us away. Do you think they'll be a problem?"
He looked down at the tattoos on his upper arms, branding him as property of the Black Fang, property of Nergal.
"Perhaps."
"I still have my tags. They kept some thugs from roughing me up when I was on the run. Maybe they'll help us out now, too."
Jaffar didn't reply, focusing on the drive. The crooked streets of outer Bern were often too narrow for double-lane traffic, so it took quite a bit of finagling to navigate them at any reasonable pace. He could go faster in the inner city, where the governmental buildings lined the roads and everything was built on a perfect grid in typical Bernese efficiency, but that would give Ursula and her cadre more room to maneuver. He skidded up onto the sidewalk to dodge a big pickup, and ducked into a side street.
"Have we lost them?" Nino asked.
"No," he said. "Blue Crow is going to try to cut us off. The woman on the motorcycle behind us is tracking our movements."
"Then we'll have to be unpredictable," Nino said. Jaffar was relieved to feel her grip loosening a little, to hear some of the wobble leave her voice. She was truly a Reed at heart—it just took a healthy spark of danger to make her realize her potential. Perhaps he'd worried too soon.
A bullet cracked into the headlight of the car behind them, and Jaffar swallowed his brief sense of security. He turned back and took a shot of his own, but it only clipped the woman's handlebars. It still made her swerve to the left, sideswiping a green car.
"We should head to the harbor," Nino said suddenly. "If we can get across the bridge into West Bern, we might be okay. My brother is supposed to be working out there. He'll help."
He'll help you, at least, Jaffar thought as he turned off towards Heulen Street. If it is Linus, I am a dead man. He has no love for me. Lloyd might heed Nino's pleas and spare me, but the Mad Dog never would.
Nino's life was all that mattered, though. If he could buy her freedom and safety with his own, he would in a heartbeat.
"Can you call him?"
"My mobile's dead. I've been out here for almost a week. What about yours?"
He fed his bike more gas as they hit Heulen Street. It was a two-laner, as was the bridge, and it was a long stretch of road. Jaffar could only pray that Ursula had lost their trail.
"I don't carry one. No one has need to contact me."
"I'm sorry," she said, but he couldn't reply; he could see Ursula's car in the mirror, her right-hand man, Maxime, pointing an ugly snub-nosed rifle at them. His first shot missed, and they sped onto the bridge. Jaffar shot back twice, but he only cracked the glass and dented the hood. He wove to the side, putting a black truck between Ursula and them, but she gained on him, slowly and surely. There was too much road before the end of the bridge. He fired another shot back at the car, taking out a headlight.
Maxime shut an eye, took aim, and pulled the trigger.
Their back wheel sparked and then popped. Jaffar turned and held Nino tight as the bike skidded, letting out a scream of rubber on asphalt, before they crashed into the railing. It hit him like a charging rhino, drawing a low moan from his throat, and then, as if in slow motion, he felt them tumble over the top.
Eighty feet straight down into the freezing Bernese harbor. Jaffar took a gulp of air, held Nino to him, and braced himself for impact.
