A Dark Mark Left
Chapter One: Destinations and Truths
It hadn't been easy to find the manor home of the secretive assassin cult known as the Dark Brotherhood, but after countless hours of searching, digging, speculating, theorizing, retracing, bartering, intimidating, and even a few beating, Nicole Amelia Evans was finally standing before the intricate wrought-iron gates, and all for the sake of a single mysterious message.
Darkness rises when silence dies.
Of course, it would be utter insanity to waste so much of her life, go so far out of her way, for some stupid gibberish scribble-scrabble crazy talk. She had tried to ignore it at first; a mis-sent e-mail, or maybe a spammer or hacker. Just a message sent to her private inbox from an anonymous sender, with that damnable phrase in the subject line. Click-delete-done. And when a new one was sent, it got the same treatment as its predecessor. The third was, cautiously, opened for examination: Line upon unbroken line of text, a long block of solid straight lines, all bearing the same message. Darkness rises when silence dies. Nicole, deeply disturbed, marked it as junk. At last count, her junk folder had well over a thousand copies of the terrible message.
The threat, whatever it was, had seemed over then. What an easy lie to shatter. A week after moving the messages to her junk mail, her cellphone pinged: From an unknown sender, a private, untraceable number, the words came again. And again. And again. Unknown users, private and blocked but always coming back around, started instant messaging it to her, day and night, and before long Nikki was driven by a single goal, to stop the messages.
And that goal, her sole mission for the past few months, had brought her here, to Dawnstar. A lonely manor, in a lonely city: Huge, sprawling, but grey, cold, literally and metaphorically. This is where that damn life-consuming message originated from, she was sure of it. It was the last thing the squeal had said before dying: "Brothers can be found at Dawnstar, look for the iron hand without."
It had been a long journey, and now, finally at her destination, the young sojourner came to the black realization that she was truly at a loss for the first time ever. Five words had been enough to push her to this point, well past her limits and far beyond her endurance, but not even one measly thought would come to her and tell her how to proceed. Defeated, Nikki grasped the cold metal bars before her and rested her head on her fist, sighing. All that work for nothing. All those hours, just to be foiled at the front gate.
The gate couldn't be scaled, or jumped, tunneled under or broken into, couldn't be slipped past, broken, or otherwise deceived. It was impregnable, a fitting wall for the fortress beyond; nothing less than the best for the world's foremost assassin's cult. Extravagance, luxury, secrets death: Everything behind these freezing metal barriers was the Dark Brotherhood's and deserved dark protections. The black iron hand standing starkly in its circle at the topmost center of the gate, split with perfect symmetry down the middle finger, mocked Nicole for her futility. Hot tears froze on her pinking cheeks as she realized it would never end, not her mission, not the relentless message. Even now her phone buzzed in her front right pocket; she was doomed to be driven mad by it until the day she died.
She released her death grip on the gate post and turned away, ready to retrace her steps homeward, when a sharp pain exploded on the back of her head. Blackness bloomed behind hazel eyes as Nicole Amelia Evans, Nikki or Nick to family and friends, hacker extraordinaire, went down for the count, dealt a dirty blow from behind.
~DB~
The world next came into being blearily. It was soft and fuzzy, and it took Nikki several unsuccessful attempts to blink things back into focus.
"Hey, you! Finally awake," rumbled a deep voice from high above her head. Nikki lifted her face to find black eyes boring down on her; a tall man, strong and toned, extruding an aura of danger and power, stood before her. He was smartly dressed in a black suit and white button-up shirt, with shiny black paten leather shoes. A light brown beard bobbed above the shirt's crisp white collar, cut to resemble something of a long goatee, and deep brown eyes glinted ominously, intelligently, above that. His bald scalp gleamed lazily in the low light, dark skin shining in the dull way of a polished rock.
"Wha—"
"No time for questions, new blood. The boss is going to want to have a word with you." With that, two similarly dressed men stepped from the shadows to either side of Nikki and grabbed her upper arms, unceremoniously dragging her with them as they began their trek. Her mind, still sluggish from the underhanded blow, reeled from the input of sensory data as Nikki tried to memorize the route she was forced down, hoping for the chance to make a break for it. In the end, even the relatively straightforward route—taken from her current angle, which was to say, at hip-level—turned out to be too complicated for her overtaxed mind. She gave up on her attempt at memorization and instead tried focusing on what was immediately in front of her, like her hands (unbounded), the floor (polished marble), the goons holding her (stony-faced young men of no discernible ethnicity), and the backside of their leader apparent (which was fine indeed).
A door hissed open before the small party, pulling Nikki from her inappropriately timed inspection of her captor's hot ass. He seemed to sense just where he thoughts had been, smirking at her as he stood to one side. Suit One and Suit Two obediently followed the unspoken order, dragging the tiny brunette gracelessly into steamy room that smelled almost overpoweringly of chlorine.
Nikki strained against her own sense, struggling to use her dulled brain to decipher the clues latent within the room. There was the quiet lapping of water, sounding off from somewhere amid the humidity's heart; so, there was a pool of some sort nearby. An overfilling pool, to guess from the warm wetness seeping into her shoes and jeans as they scraped across the tiled floor. Despite the warm press of the hot floating mist on her skin, she could tell the room was spacious; even the quiet splashing of the water echoed loudly in the enclosed space. Still the steam, source of the humidity in the room, lay too thick on the air to see past. She was collecting more of the groundwater in her clothes—perhaps because there was more of it to be collected now. It lay in large puddles on the black tile floor, gleaming in a way that could not be replicated by floor wax.
The clones dragging her came to an abrupt, simultaneous halt. The steam swirled angrily around Nikki and her abductors, as if in protest of captive state, then dispersed evenly around them, clearing enough room to allow Nikki a clear view for several feet before her. She was held by the edge of gigantic pool, shaped in the Brotherhood's insignia—a large opened hand. For a heart-stopping moment, the teenaged hacker was sure the Suit Bros. would simply drown her in the luxuriant pool. That would be her end, drowned in a giant hand-pool in a secluded manor at the far edge of a lonesome city. And really, who needed a pool here to begin with? It was never above what in Nikki's translated to "fucking freeing" anywhere near Dawnstar….
Something glided nearby at the bottom of the pool, making a path straight for where she was held kneeling mere feet before the water's lip. So she was to be fed to some aquatic monstrosity, not drowned. Oh joy. The girl shrank back in very real terror, leaning away from the pool despite the hard grip on her arms. These two schmucks could just toss her in without missing a beat. She was a goner….
The pale shape from the pool's floor jumped smoothly up, pulling itself back onto dry—well, drier—land. Water streamed off of auburn hair, past eerie amber eyes, and down pale skin. It dripped off the slight pudge in the middle and landed beside bare feet. Despite the striking features of the man before her—and these he had a bounty of, from sunless skin to rare, natural hair color—Nicole's hapless gaze snared itself on the unfortunately captivating attire the man wore: A deep navy speedo stood out in sharp contrast to the man's gothic-white skin, too tight to leave much to the imagination…not that Nikki could have imagined anything better. She didn't want to gawk, but gawk she did, in surprise of the man's audacity among…other…things of interest.
It wasn't until he was almost upon the small group that she managed to force her eyes to higher, safer grounds. Like his devilishly smirking face or playfully glinting eyes. Shit, he saw! And if his voice was anything to judge off of, he was interested to say the least:
"What is it you've brought me now, Nazir?"
The sound of his voice sent shivers up her spine and broke her arms out in goosebumps. It was oddly silibant, confident, self-assured…dark, powerful, possessive. People killed when voices like that told them to, a fact that made undeniable sense given the context of the situation.
"This little lady was just dying to meet you," rumbled the attractive black man from somewhere not far behind her. "Or so it would seem."
"Oh?"
"She made it all the way to the gates before we caught up with her. Slipped past every defense along the way." There again were those amber eyes, peering into her soul as his interest piqued.
"You don't say?" he purred, gaze never straying from hers. She felt like a mouse, hypnotized by a charming snake's entrancing eyes. There was no looking away, no refusal, nothing but the quickening pace of her heartbeats and the heightening danger surrounding her.
"And all that, of course, is on top of finding our location without tripping any alarms."
"Hmmm…." The red-head's tone was musing, his face thoughtful. He cupped his elbow with hand and tapped his index finger against his lips with the other, tawny eyes travelling over her folded body. He studied her for a moment before asking, "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"'M just trying to stop the messages," she replied, dazed and still utterly beguiled. With all the trouble of the past few months, she had been so sure that she had managed to trip every alarm in the Brotherhood…and yet…somehow, it appeared, she had not until today. Then why all that trouble? All that death? What had it been if not her carelessness?
With exaggerated slowness, the still-dripping man bent at the waist and leaned over until his face was level with hers. This close, more of his facial features came into clear focus; high cheekbones, sunken, almost sleepless, eyes, well-kept brows and a sharp nose. Breathing lightly onto her skin, as a lover might before a slow, passionate kiss, his eyes swept over her own face before resting on hers, predatory amber clashing with clouded hazel.
"What message?" he half-whspered, voice low as if such a convention afforded the two any privacy.
"Darkness rises when silence dies," she whispered back, quoting the cursed phrase from memory. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, as if in chipper agreement; the man snapped up abruptly, like she had reached out and slapped him. His eyes flicked up behind her, presumably to look at his fellow captor, before fidning her again at a narrower, more hostile angle. Nicole watched all this unfold with her heart hammering in her throat, unsure of how to take her sensual host's sudden burst of violence.
"Did you search her before bringing her to me?" The man's tone was clipped, urgent.
"No."
"Up!"
Suit One and Suit Two hauled the terrified self-proclaimed rebel to her feet, holding her still and steady as she was simultaneously patted down from the front and the back by her two most vocal kidnappers.
"Clear," announced the sure, gravelly voice from behind her just as a wet hand slapped the right side of her pelvis.
"What's this?" cooed the wearer of speedos, fingering the bulge through the thin denim of her jeans. Deftly, he worked the smartphone out of its nice, dry nest and held it cupped in one hand. He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, turning the offending electronic over as he scanned it for visible signs of danger. Apparently content with his search, he pressed a button, staring at the LED display as it lit up. "Tsk, six unread messages? For shame."
He tried, unsuccessfully, to check them.
"Password," he demanded distractedly, not looking at her. When she didn't answer, he turned his sharp glare on her and repeated his demand.
"O-oh!" Nikki rattled off a short numeric code, which was subsequently entered into the phone, giving access to her entire private life to an angry assassin. He read the text messages first, eyes darting across the screen over the words, unable to believe what he saw. Next he checked her e-mail, the junk folder, then her IM mobile manager, the unanswered column as well the answered. He looked through her life until satisfied with his findings, then carelessly chucked the phone over his shoulder. The small splash echoed loudly in the tense silence of the room as all eyes fell on her. She stared at the man before her, still somewhat dumbstruck by the recent turn of events.
"So," he said softly, eyes steadily planted on her face, sizing her up and gauging her reaction, "'darkness rises when silence dies'?"
"I was just trying to stop the messages," she explained hoarsely, shrinking away in renewed terror.
"You know about the Brotherhood—"
"I thought you were stalking me—"
"—and you sought us out on your own initiative—"
"—I couldn't get the messages to stop—"
"—you slipped past all our defenses—"
"—I thought for sure you were going to catch me—"
"—and now here you are, all alone and at our mercy—"
"—please don't kill me!" Nikki begged, finally stopping the mad tirade with her tears. She was cowering as far away from the tawny-eyed killer as his loyal lapdogs would physically allow her, more or less unknowingly huddled against the black man's muscular form, pleading for mercy from the very core of her soul. Tears slid down her slick face, nearly blinding her, as the man stepped forward. With surprising gentleness he reached out and caressed her face, wiping the fresh tears away with one well-manicured thumb.
"Kill you?" he purred softly, intimately, stepping closer. "Why would we kill you? Why would I? Our little family has waited so long for Mother to choose someone…why kill her chosen?" His hand moved sensually down her cheek, fingers whispering against her soft skin as they slid down and curled under to cup her chin. "Now, admittedly, I had hoped to gain the Lady's favor—" his grip tightened brutally "—but clearly that's not to be." He removed his hand, but not before lovingly caressing her cheek one last time with the backs of his fingers. Careless as a lion cleaning his claws of blood, his tongue laved over the wetted appendages, savoring the sweet salty tang of her tears. He closed his eyes, lost for a moment to the blissful taste of bitter fear, a single noted vibrating at the back of his throat. "Delicious," he declared, amber orbs reopening n the world and zeroing in on her with the bloodthirsty intensity of a hungry wolf.
The other man cleared his throat loudly, drawing his companion's attention away from Nicole. "What shall we do with her?" he asked.
"Take her away," came the simple reply, accompanied by a flippant wave of the hand. "Prepare a room for her, put her in it, and lock the door on your way out." The strange pale psychopath then turned smartly on his heel and strode away. He dove into the pool with hardly a splash, but not before making sure to take long enough in his preparatory stoop for Nicole to notice his backside.
And so this stranger's will was done, and Nicole—now damp from the humid steam and left without her beloved phone—was left alone to her own thoughts, many of which were too bizarre to merit contemplation. She reflected on the day's insane events, the assassins who lived in Dawnstar, her long journey and its somewhat anticlimactic "twist" ending, her unbelievable luck in apparently not having tripped any alarms sooner, but inevitably these reflections bored and upset her. Flopping down on her bed, she thought instead of her sexy greeter, the tall dark man, and compared him to the swimmer, his "boss".
She had to stifle her laughter when she realized the latter was almost half a head shorter than her, a comical height difference when placed alongside his companion.
-Notes-
Hello everyone! It's been a while since I last logged on, huh? ;) So...couple of things:
1- I am newly addicted to Skyrim!
2- My good friend ScarletBoudica convinced me to write and publish this story.
3- I am unable to continue BtM until my co-author keeps up her end of the bargain and starts writing. You have my apologies for that one.
4- Nicole (Nikki...Nick) is an original character ScarletBoudica and I have been working on since I started playing Skyrim. In our "original" timeline, she becomes the Listener and hilarity ensues; in this "alternate" timeline, she becomes the Listener and drama ensues. Go figure. :)
As always, please feel free to PM me with any comments, questions, and/or concerns, or leave it here in a review and I'll get back to you the next time I log on!
Ciao for now~!
XOXO,
BritLuvr
