Delphi had been surprised to find John Wick at her door tonight. Almost as surprised as she was when she recognized him while returning his dog many months ago. The man had a way about him that she just could not figure.
Delphi embraced Frankie and each of the cleanup crew as they entered her house, but did not speak a word. She left her company for only a moment, and returned with 13 gold coins. She was a heavy tipper.
"13 is an unlucky number, Miss Delphi." Frankie croaked.
"Tot, kto boitsya neudachi nikogda ne budet znat' khorosho" She answered in Russian as she kissed the old man's cheek. He who is afraid of bad luck will never know good. John closed the door behind them.
Delphi, feeling a little guilty for not being entirely truthful with John, almost explained herself to him right then and there.
Seeing John Wick out of a suit was a strange experience. Seeing him out in the middle of rural Pennsylvania was even stranger. She can remember the fear that began to gnaw on her body upon discovering him that day, the dog panting beside her. He was the only thing that had scared her in a long time.
Up until she received that package last week.
John, a man of few words, had come to enjoy the chattiness of his companion. She usually kept the mood light, and knew what to say to put most anyone at ease. It made people like her. It made John like her. It made her seem normal. He needed normal.
Seeing her use her words so sparsely worried him.
Delphi looked at her friend and said, "I'm expecting a call." She then opened the back door and walked to the nearest greenhouse. John followed. From inside, the intense heat made him start to sweat through his old shirt.
She stopped at an old clay pot near the back of the domed greenhouse. A few bell shaped blue and purple flowers grew, nothing John found spectacular. She pushed the container, and John leaned down to help, but she did not need it. Underneath she lifted a small hatch. John could feel the coolness of the earth. She took a step down, and waved him along.
He heard the phone ring as she took the first step. "Be careful." She said as she began to walk quickly and confidently where John wavered. The rings became louder as they walked further. She twisted a light bulb and the bright light illuminated her artillery. She took the call while John toured her pieces.
"Delphi Kane." She answered. John was struck by how she said her name. Her southern accent became thicker the angrier she grew.
John admired her collection. Many of the same pieces he had used in the past.
She did not speak again. He heard the person on the other line talking swiftly in a language John did not recognize at first. He decided it was Korean.
When he heard the phone click on its receiver, he faced her and gestured towards the diploma hanging on the wall. Cornell University. Horticulture.
She shrugged nonchalantly. "They'll let just about anyone in these days."
John then walked to the work space that served as her desk. Three pinky fingers, frozen to a pale purple, sat on the surface. Each wore a thin gold band set with a small pearl, identical to the one currently on Delphi's hand. John raised his eyes to the photo hanging on the wall.
He turned back to her. As kind as he knew, or thought he knew her to be, she looked incredibly dangerous. Her jaw was clenched. She began to pack.
John made to exit. "I'll get my things and board the dog." He gave as a goodbye.
Delphi stopped him. "John," she called in her usual light voice, and he turned back to her. It was as if two beings inside her were dueling. One moment she was the gentle neighbor he had grown to know and care for over the past year, the next she was an enigma. "This may be a trip I don't come back from."
Life had this uncanny ability to pull him back in when he had given up.
Life, or this girl.
"They don't know that you're here. You should go. I can do this." She told him. He looked at her for a moment. Nothing about her would stand out. She wasn't particularly tall or particularly short. She was neither heavy or thin. Her complexion was somewhere in between strikingly pale and natural. Her only outward feature that drew attention was her long red hair. It fell loose around her face now. John took a mental picture of her before the madness began.
"Do what?" He asked her. He said it in a way that made Delphi soften around the edges.
"What I do best." She told him. Then she cocked her head. She grabbed her pistol and ran back the way they came. John followed.
There was a wood on the other side of her property. A man in all black made his way through it. He dialed the number he knew so well it was almost robotic. "They're dead. They're all dead." The man spoke calmly. "Sir," he started, his voice beginning to waver, "Wick-."
The man was cut off. Delphi had put a knife in the back of his head. His phone hit the ground. John crushed it with his foot.
"Dammit!" The man on the other end of the line screamed. He took a moment to recompose himself. He tried to pretend he was not afraid. "She killed them. She's coming." The men stiffened. "And she's got John Wick with her."
His boss looked up from his card game. Smoke filled the small room. "Let them come." His European accent slurring his words. "Does she have the asset?"
"No one knows where it is."
"She will keep it safe. And she thinks the safest place is with her." He said between puffs of smoke. He briefly thought it dangerous to think that he knew anything about this woman. She was the only one of the four he could never predict. Smart, cunning, ruthless, this Kane sister was always the challenge.
"When she gets here, leave her to me." He commanded.
"And Wick?" Troy, the henchman, asked.
"Baba Yaga?" He said. The men around the table looked up in fear. "I have no business with him."