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Chapter 2: Change

Anastasia
oOo

Location: Winn-Dixie rooftop, Delata, Florida, USA
City Population: 683
Current time: 2:18 pm, Eastern
Date: June 2, 2013
Current alias: Maggie Ray, street magician

"You've done well, Anastasia, but you can do better. It's time we met again, face to face, don't you think?"

I froze at his words. His voice was serene and I was fairly certain that could be qualified as a compliment. I dropped my bag and it landed with a light thunk. The knife up my leather sleeve found its way to my hand and I gripped the hilt tightly.

How dare he waltz into my life after all these years, calm and perfect, like nothing had happened? How dare he try to smooth over everything that he had done to me with that composed voice of his?

Just... How dare he?

I spun around on the heel of my worn boots and lunged at him, completely silent, like anyone trained as I had been should be. I struck out with the knife in clean, swift movements, going for his eyes… his neck… stomach… anywhere. But whenever I found an open spot in his guard, it was quickly blocked by expertise much greater than mine. Before I knew what had happened, he had my wrist caught in his hand and was twisting it behind my back. I was flipped over and thrown to the gravel below me with very little effort, while a knee went to the center of my back and pressed lightly on my spine, daring me to move.

I could just imagine the smug expression on his face that hadn't changed a bit from the last time I saw him—he still had the short blonde hair, was still tall, still muscular. Still the same asshole who had a strange (and very well-known) crush on the best assassin from his Unit—me. I copied his expression and loosened my hold on the knife and relaxed, surrendering. He wouldn't kill me—he never killed anyone unless he had orders, which he clearly didn't, elseways my corpse would be being brought some remote place in South Dakota and thrown into an incinerator like so many, many more before me.

'It's not usually my style,' he had once told me. The 'usually' was what really ticked me off when he'd said that.

He got off me and I turned around, calmly flipping the blade back into it's handle. He stared down at me and I met his gaze with respect. I knew that if I wanted to live to see the sunrise tomorrow morning, I had better be pretty damn respectful.

He seemed to read my mind and smirked as he offered me a hand. I took it and he pulled me to my feet, not letting go of my slim fingers as he yanked me into his chest.

"May I ask how you found me, Black?"

His face fell into that calm mask of his, though I could practically see his mind in turmoil. "You may, but I might not answer." I squinted my eyes threateningly, and he laughed, launching into an explanation. "You were a hard little bugger to track, if that makes you feel better."

"It doesn't."

He ignored me. "But this little old man, you see, owns a motel in the next town over. He'd do anything once I showed him my knife. I asked him to strike up a conversation with a certain young girl, learn her whereabouts when she checked out of the motel. And you, my dear, told him all about magic." He whispered the last part so softly that I could barely hear him even though he was too close for comfort.

"Wow, Black. You're crawling on your knees, forcing little old men to do the dirty work for you. I'm ashamed. I thought you would have done better. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a very long walk to the next hotel with a grand piano. Enjoy your trip home, monsieur."

I stepped away from his grasp and he let me go, standing in that same spot as I went to pick up my duffel. I had just brushed the handle with my fingertips when he spoke up again, louder this time.

"I'm not with The Caste anymore, Staci." I never thought I'd hear the day he sounded happy (well, as happy as Black could sound) about that. "They retired me. Set me up with 10K in an untraceable account and let me go. Said they weren't worried about me anymore, because who would believe me if I told their story?"

I stood back up straight but didn't turn to him. "Well, when you put it that way, it makes you sound crazy. That's why nobody would believe you. But wait," I said as an afterthought, taking the chance to let him see I was still the same snarky, unbelievably annoying girl he'd last seen five years ago. "It's not because you sound crazy, it's because you are crazy. Anybody and everybody who's in The Caste is insane, and will be until their dying day when they see all the mistakes they made. But there's something that confuses me. If you left The Caste, then why are you still after me?"

I turned around at this point and found him still in the same spot, holding his arm out with the sleeve up so that I could see the tattoo.

"The Eye."

I laughed, pretty much knowing right off the bat that the ink was a fake. "Oh, please, Black. That is the worst lie that anyone has ever told me, and I've heard a lot of lies."

"Staci, that's where you're wrong. I'm magic. Always have been, just like you. I had to go through all these tests, all these tasks with blind obedience, but I did it. I completed it, and now I'm a part of it."

I could see that he wasn't lying. He was telling the truth, because no matter what people believed about Black, he was a terrible liar. That's why he was an assassin—he never had to lie to kill. Even if he might have had to, those jobs were left to the ones who could tell a lie like texting a friend.

Maybe that was why I trusted him (might I add very hesitantly in here), reaching out and touching the tattoo.

"You haven't told me why you're after me. And how did you find me before The Caste did?"

"Magic. I did really ask the old man at the motel, though. That was mandatory—too much magic around these parts and people begin to get suspicious. You're brother sent me."

I nearly fell backwards when he said that. Dylan? Dylan, whom I had only ever seen pictures of and gotten letters from when I was little? My big brother, Dylan Rhodes, had sent Black to find me? Why? WHAT?!

Black continued, seeing my confusion. "He didn't send for you specifically. He had orders from The Eye to get someone trained like you and with your skills, because they're going to take down The Caste. They need you to protect and train a group of magicians in self-defense."

"Let's go."

"What?"

I sighed. I barely even had to think it over. It was so unlike me it was laughable. "Black, take me to wherever you need to take me to. I'll help you. I'll train these guys if you want me to. I want to help. If it means taking out The Caste once and for all, then I'm all for it, especially if it's for Dylan."

"Not for Dylan. For The Eye."

"Same thing. Now," I picked up my bag, and faced him again. "Let's go kick some magician ass."

oOo

We were somewhere on Highway 95, rock station blaring (as per my request), and Black was just about annoying the hell out of me telling me how to conduct what was now my mission.

"Listen, Maggie. You have very specific orders from The Eye. If you follow them all and don't mess up, then you're in."

"Two things. First off, I'm doing this my brother, no matter what The Eye thinks about that. Second off, don't call me Maggie—murderers and thieves call me Staci, people who are not call me Anastasia. Nobody calls me Maggie."

"Fine… Anastasia. Happy now?" he snickered.

"No."

"I'm not a murderer; we've been over this! I joined The Eye-"

"But you see, in my mind, you're still a murderer. So suck it up and you call me 'Staci'."

"Whatever you say, Staci." He said it with such hatred that it almost made me regret it. Almost. "You happy now?"

"Very," I said sarcastically. I turned and rested my arm on the window of the open convertible, letting my head flop to rest on my shoulder. "You were telling me about my very specific orders that I must follow with blind obedience?"

"Yes. You are to stay with the Horsemen at all times. You must not let one of them be alone, no matter what happens. If you split up, there must be at least two of you together."

"What happens when I need to go to the bathroom, Black? I have my feminine needs, you know," I teased him, seeing his face flush a light pink for a moment.

"Then you can take Reeves with you. You are going to train them in self-defense, with and without magic. I expect you can do that?"

I let out a small, short laugh, dripping with disbelief. "No, Black. I, Anastasia Rhodes, second-best assassin that The Caste has ever recruited (not to mention a magician) cannot train four street magicians in self-defense, with or without the use of magic. It is impossible." I snorted in the most un-ladylike way.

"Wow. She's as modest as ever," Black muttered under his breath.

"And still has an excellent sense of hearing as well."

He made no comment. "Staci, these four are much more than just street magicians. They're now idols that magicians and just normal people look up to. Not only in America, but all over the world. I hate to say it, but even you might be out of your depth."

I looked at him with a grin on my face. "Oh, my dear old friend, you have much to learn. I've been given many difficult missions, all of which started much worse than this one has, and ended much worse than this one will, and I managed. I think I can cope, Black."

"Fine. Repeat your orders back to me."

"Stay with the Horsemen at all times and never let anyone be alone, take Reeves with me to the bathroom whenever I need to take care of my feminine needs, and run a kiddy-pool training program in self-defense," I stated in a mock professional tone, straitening up in my seat, counting out the list on my fingers, then showed him the three fingers I held up. "Good, right?"

"Right, good. Next—" he began, but I cut him off

"There's more? Why can't this just be as simple as they were? All you ever told me to do then was scope out the person, stay out of sight and kill the bastard. This is so complicated!" I whined.

Of course, I simply loved teasing Black, especially since I knew he'd always had a crush on me, but I had never returned it. He said he's gotten over it a long time ago, but I'd still loved to hold it over his head. I didn't really believe him, either.

"Oh, shut it, Staci. When we get to the house, they won't be there yet. They'll get here tomorrow with Dylan, and you two can have your happy reunion and whatever. But before you do, we need you to do something."

"Does it involve ending a life?"

"No, but you get to test each of the Horsemen on their abilities." I groaned. I hated testing people.

"Killing somebody would be so much easier."

"Hey, you're the one that said you were up for the challenge!" I opened my mouth to argue, but quickly closed it again. "Anyways," he continued with a smug expression that I wanted to slug off his face, "we need you to surprise them. Hide in the house, close to the door, then jump out and attack them when they come in. They'll know that you're in the house, but not that you're going to attack them." He paused, seeing my murderous stare, and he clearly regretted that little monologue. "Or whatever the hell you want to do. Becuase this is your case."

"Well, duh. I'm glad you specified that!"

Black only had time to glare for a second before taking his eyes back to the road ahead, honking angrily at some car who swerved into our lane as if he didn't see us. I braced myself against the door, but made no comment, seeing that he was clearly angry. I figured I had better tone it down.

"You done?" He asked, annoyed. I nodded. "Good. Don't hurt any of them-at all-and don't attack Dylan."

I was about to make some smart-ass comment about why on Earth would I attack my own brother, but managed force my brain to edit. "By 'hurt them', do you mean, like, don't break anything? I can bruise 'em a little, right? Otherwise it's a little hard to assess their individual skills," I added on, only becasue I found myself wanting an excuse and authorized permission to beat them up.

Black sighed. "Yeah, sure. Whatever, just try to be careful. Nothing that won't go away in... two days."

"Deal."

He smiled. "Great." He paused. "You know, you look like hell. When was the last time you slept?"

I thought for a bit. "Two nights ago. Crammed in seven hours. Woke up with ants crawling on me."

He looked taken aback, though I wasn't sure if it was my lack of sleep or the ants or both that was so surprising. "Staci, go to sleep."

"Why?"

"Because you look terrible, and you need to be on top of things tomorrow. The drive to Crows Landing is four hours, so catch up on some snoozin' time. Then you have the house to yourself for the night, and I will personally strap you to the bed if you don't use it wisely. So. Go. To. Sleep."

I nodded and relaxed. The exhaustion hit me like baseball bat, and everything felt sore and a headache developed and I felt like dying all at once. I closed my eyes and leaned into the black leather seat, letting the wind from the open car whip my face and pull at my hair like invisible fingers.

Black said nothing else to me, so I continued to fall asleep to the sound of the air drumming against the open-topped car and the occasional rumbling of another traveller passing us by on the old, country highway.

oOo

I didn't wake up for what must have been hours. I found I was correct when I snapped to attention, forgetting where I was. Then I remembered: Black and The Eye... my new mission... Dylan... It all came flooding back. I looked around, trying to figure out where I was.

I was still in Black's convertible, and though it was parked, the engine ran with the keys jammed in the ignition. We were in a mall parking lot, stopped in front of an Apple store. I could see Black inside, talking with one of the store goonies, and I thought it best not to leave at the moment. I didn't want him to have a. Heart attack because frankly, he looked just about as bad I did.

I saw a note on the dashboard in front me, underneath a paper to-go bag from Wendy's.

Staci,

Be back out in a sec. Got you some grub from Wendy's. Don't go anywhere.

Black

I reached for the Fat Pack, as I liked to call it, seeing that inside it was a cheddar and bacon baked potato—my favorite. This had been a well-known fact throughout The Caste, especially in my Unit. My one soft spot. I'd taken a lot of grief for it, though I never really understood why.

Just as I had time to fish a fork from the lukewarm paper bag, Black was at the driver's side, throwing something into my lap, sliding into his seat and slamming his door shut. I picked up the object he had tossed at me. I looked from him to it incredulously.

"You got me an iPhone?" I asked, dumbfounded. He just nodded, then put the car in full gear and sped off at rocket speed, and I didn't remember the last time I'd sat is car. "Why'd you get me an iPhone? I haven't had anything since that crummy little flip phone—I ditched it when I ran."

He laughed, throwing his head back and nearly driving off the road. "You mean you ran over it in the car you stole, which just so happened to be Jake's." I was still to dumbstruck to comment, which he found very amusing. "Well, I'm flattered that you like it. Home-warming gift from The Eye."

"What about the salad?" I quizzed. "And for the record, his car sucked. His brakes went out and then the engine stalled. No it kept wanting me to check the oil."

"Salad was on me. It doesn't take a magician to figure out your favorite fast food meal, does it, Staci?" There was that grief I was talking about.

He winked at me and I didn't respond, but instead eagerly opened the plastic case and began screwing around with the phone, simultaneously shoving chunks of cheesey, bacon-covered baked potato onto my deprived taste buds. I nearly must have died and gone to Heaven.

I can't believe it. I'm being treated like a princess, I thought, a feeling of need and longing for something like this after those years of stealing bed-and-breakfast food. Maybe I'll be able to raise my standards for once.