"Stupid."
"How could I have been so stupid?"
Charlie stood, frozen, at the bathroom doorjamb and watched the two blond men move quietly and efficiently around her room. They weren't going to find what they wanted, at least she had made sure of that. No book, no codex, and no notes. The key had flown away and the evidence of its existence lay shattered on the bathroom floor behind her. They'd shown no interest in the bathroom or its occupant since they'd emerged from it, bloody and businesslike, ten minutes before.
She couldn't bring herself to look back, through the door. Her tablet was the least of the shattered remains in that tiny room.
Charlie wanted to scream at these two ass-hats, but knew they wouldn't even catch a whisper. She wanted to stomp the floor—or even better, drive them to the floor at the tip of her sword and then stomp their too-pretty smiles into the back of their skulls. "It would serve them right," her dark half murmured in agreement.
But her sword was tucked away in the trunk of her little boosted car, and in her current state she doubted her best thrust would raise so much as a breeze to ruffle their rigid hair. Not that the sword would have done her much good in the tight corner of that hideous purple bathroom. Oh, she'd bloodied the one-armed freak, but he'd still driven straight in at her while the other blocked the door. No room, no momentum, glass under her feet, and he'd pushed her quickly to the edge of the tub.
She'd failed. Failed her IQ check, failed her initiative roll, failed to gain any sort of advantage. And while the replay of each blow and counter strike stretched out behind her with clarity and precision, she'd never have the chance to play it over again in real time.
A glimmer of white danced at the corner of her vision. She ignored it, pointedly.
The Teutonic good old boys weren't worried about fingerprints, and hadn't glanced towards the doorway where Charlie stood vigil, but at least they hadn't found anything else to take with them. The leader, One-Armed Freak, caught her attention as he abruptly ceased his search and made for the door.
"What about the body?" His sidekick asked.
Not pausing in his stride, One-Arm said, "That's not a body." His face contorted into something that might once have been a grin. "That's a message." And they were gone. The hotel door gaped open behind them.