[a/n] As much as is explained in this chapter, many more questions will arise. I will, however, take care to foreshadow plot twists.

Ch 9: Untold Plots and Half-Told Truths

Voices. Voices from who?

Ahiru sensed frustration and anxiety, but it was a while before she was able to regain awareness fully enough to comprehend the voices.

"Sorry about the frying pan," Autor was saying sheepishly. "It was all I could think of."

Autor! You were the one who...wait, a frying pan...you hit me over the head with it, you jerk!

And in that instant, Ahiru decided that she absolutely hated Autor for whacking her over the head with a frying pan, especially while her guard was down and she had been talking to Fakir.

"At least this danger has been dealt with," Fakir answered matter-of-factly. "Good call."

What! Fakir...he's in on it too? So it wasn't just Autor being crazy?

If possible, she hated Fakir even more.

But it was critical that she work her way out of this situation as soon as possible. Ahiru, trying to keep up a pretense of unconsciousness, discovered that she had been bound to a chair. A dull aching pain throbbed at the back of her head, and Ahiru was willing to bet that an egg-sized lump would form there soon.

They didn't trust me from the start! They thought I was acting undercover to get close to Fakir and that I'm still trying to kill him. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Of all the ways to die! She thought indignantly. She began flexing her wrists, trying to work through the rope. Unluckily, whoever had tied the rope around her wrists was an expert at this sort of thing. Luckily, Ahiru still had spare daggers hidden in her dress.

Pretending to be unconscious and cut through the bonds with the daggers would be difficult. However, all she needed was a moment when they both looked away. Until then, she would simply listen.

"The thing is, she's a very good liar," Fakir mused. The two were speaking in hushed tones, but Ahiru strained her ears to hear as much as she could. "She seemed as if she utterly meant everything she said, as odd as it sounds."

"Have to be careful with her type," Autor answered. "Slippery, at that. And she looks so innocent, too, as if she couldn't possibly be plotting anything more than giving you flowers for your birthday!"

"That's why she's so valuable, and it's highly unlikely she's working against her employer." Fakir reasoned quietly. "But why didn't she attack when she had the chance?"

The next part was inaudible, but Ahiru could clearly hear what came next: "Does Rue know that you're going to be here?"

"No." Fakir's voice became louder with confidence, as if he hadn't noticed it himself. "It was a sudden change in plans that almost no one knew about. Better that than walk into a death trap. Besides, this girl wasn't sent to my house...she was sent to the gala." Fakir leaned back in his chair, lost in his thoughts. "And now we have Mytho's best assassin."

"Boom. You're dead." Ahiru's clear voice interrupted Fakir's musings. Somehow she had cut through the rope to free her hands while Fakir and Autor had been engaged in conversation. Worse still, she had a gun aimed directly at his head.

Fakir's heart stopped beating and the world froze to a standstill with the threat of imminent death.

Autor tensed, and in a split second he had tackled Ahiru. They flew to the floor, Ahiru hitting him repeatedly on the head with the butt of the pistol and screaming something about payback. Autor, however, focused on getting the gun out of her grip.

"Stop it, you two!" Fakir yelled, almost as if attempting to separate two kindergarten children, but it had no effect.

With a well-aimed elbow to the face, Ahiru managed to stun Autor for a second and, as an indication of her triumph, press the pistol at his temple.

"Bitch!" Autor growled, a hand pressed to his now-bloody nose.

"Look," Ahiru said, her breaths coming harshly as she lowered the pistol, "I could have killed you both by now, got it? I keep on telling you that I'm on your side. Why won't you believe me?"

"What the hell! Why would you ever be on our side?" Autor said, frustrated as he tilted his head back, attempting to stop the bleeding. Regaining some semblance of calmness, he pushed Ahiru away roughly and stood. "Not that I'm complaining you didn't kill Fakir, or me, but still..."

"You're the ones who didn't trust me!" Ahiru said angrily, standing as well. "I told you I was on your side! And you didn't listen, and we wasted a ton of time, and I'm still here trying to reason with you!"

"I'm going to go make sure my nose isn't broken," Autor said haughtily, turning on his heel to stride away.

"Tell us why you intend to help us. Trusting you would be an act of stupidity otherwise," Fakir said, his voice biting as he tried to hide his alarm. "I've known you were trying to kill me for a while now."

"Fine!" Ahiru shouted, hot tears starting in her eyes. "I just discovered today that my employer was not only cheating on me with another woman, but planning to kill me at midnight after he'd gotten me to finish you! Does that sound convincing?"

Fakir's eyes narrowed. "So you've come running after your boyfriend cheated on you? That's why you've suddenly decided to help us?"

"I hate you!" Ahiru burst out. "You don't have to put it like that! I'm really trying to help!"

Autor reappeared, nose evidently not broken but bruised, just in time to make another snide remark.

"I would trust her on this," Autor said, a sarcastic edge in his voice. "Besides, there are levels of trust, and we can start out with a very, very low level. And, of course, you can never have too much knowledge. She might be a useful source of information, even if three-quarters of it is false."

"You are insufferable!" Ahiru folded her arms. "I might be an assassin, but I'm not a liar. And yes, I'd be very useful," Ahiru sniffed. "Much more useful than if you tied me up and tried to use me as hostage. Mytho doesn't care about me," she said harshly. "He'd just let me die and come after you himself."

"Hang on..." Autor said slowly. "Just wait a moment. So you cut through your bonds...and then aimed a gun at Fakir...does that mean that you still managed to hide another gun and dagger somewhere on that dress?"

Ahiru shrugged. "And a change of clothes just in case I get tired of this stupid outfit," she added. "I think there's some rope in there too. Maybe some more daggers."

Fakir and Autor exchanged a glance of amazement.

"It's the simplest solution to anything," Ahiru said, feeling proud of herself. "You never know what might happen, and it's always a good idea to carry weapons around with you."

Autor stared into the distance as if he'd had an epiphany. "The simplest solution," he murmured. "The simplest solution." He leaned over to whisper in Fakir's ear, and Fakir's face became pale, an expression of frozen shock.

"What are you saying?" Ahiru demanded. "Tell me! Tell me NOW!"

"It's the best way to resolve everything," Autor said intently to Fakir. "It might even save your life."

"Are you sure you can pull it off?"

"I'll call you if the circumstances aren't right. We might need to improvise."

"Fine," Fakir nodded with some reluctance, as if the decision was a difficult one. "You're right, but I hadn't wanted to resort to this..."

"It's the only way. We'll end the conflict for good, in the only way possible." With that, Autor whispered something else, and Fakir glanced at Ahiru, then shook his head.

"Autor, I don't know about this." His voice dropped so that the rest was inaudible.

"Think of it this way," Autor answered. "It's a major gamble, but..."

"We're not, okay? Just the first part."

"I'll be on my way then." Autor stood and made his way to the door.

"You'd better not hit me with another frying pan or I'll return the favor! And this time, your nose will be broken!" Ahiru called loudly, and was greeted with the door slamming shut as Autor departed.

"Why does she want to kill you?" Ahiru blurted at Fakir. "And what was that? What were you discussing?"

"What do you know about her?" Fakir demanded, deliberately evading her questions.

"I won't tell you unless you tell me," Ahiru said stubbornly.

"No. You first."

"Will you trust me if I tell you?" As soon as it flew from her lips, Ahiru knew that question was pointless.

"Yes." The unspoken assumption of levels of trust, however, went unsaid. "Fine then. We might as well sit rather than stand for a while." Fakir gestured to one of the chairs in his living room, and Ahiru nodded, having completely forgotten about sitting down.

Once they were both comfortably seated, that was when the entire story came out of Ahiru's mouth. Fakir never said a word, only listened. It was once she had finished, having talked for fifteen minutes, that she realized how little she had been able to share what she felt with Mytho. Their conversations had been short and goal-oriented. When was the last time they had a full-fledged discussion? For so long, Ahiru had kept silent, but now, with the freedom of being able to say whatever she wanted, she said everything.

Fakir drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair. "You're a very formidable assassin, then, aren't you?"

"I think deadly might work better there."

"But you trusted Mytho for this entire time."

"Well, I...um..."

"Hell, even I could have seen that coming."

Ahiru's mouth twisted with despair, and Fakir suddenly felt a pang of sympathy. "Hey, don't worry. That won't happen to you again, I promise."

"Thanks," Ahiru said quietly. Fakir listened for sarcasm, but could find none.

"Your turn!" Ahiru reminded him, brightening.

"Whatever," Fakir shrugged. "Here we go. I have a little sister, and her name is Rue. I'm guessing you've met her. And...she likes money. A lot. Unfortunately for her, our father, who was a successful businessman with millions, divided his money equally between us in his will."

"So half of that isn't enough for her?"

"Not really." Fakir's eyes darted to the left, deliberately avoiding Ahiru's gaze, and Ahiru got the feeling that there was more to this subject. "Anyway, he died about a month ago in an accident. A bit too convenient if you ask me, but it was an accident."

"Wait..." Ahiru said slowly. "What was his name?"

"Charon Strauss."

Ahiru's eyes widened in sheer horror. The businessman. Charon Strauss. The businessman with the serious brown eyes and graying hair. She should have known that they were related. It was almost too horrible to be true.

Luckily, Fakir didn't seem to notice, and she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth.

"I didn't figure out that Rue was after me as well until Autor came by for the second time."

"So you listened to him the second time?"

"The second time, he actually had evidence. You know, apparently he was Rue's fiancée, but she cheated on him with some dude. That dude was Mytho. Autor didn't say anything about it though, and he told me that Rue still thinks that he doesn't know. Instead, he started plotting revenge. And Autor...well, when he wants revenge, he gets it. First, though he did his research...he kept track of Rue and her new boyfriend."

"You mean stalked them? Why? Does he stalk all his ex-girlfriends?"

"Fiancée, for one. And two, you're hardly one to talk," Fakir scoffed. "I'm sure you're quite the stalker yourself."

"Hey!"

"You probably stalked me all the time, even when you didn't have to." Fakir shrugged nonchalantly, suppressing a laugh at the angry flush spreading on Ahiru's face. "Just for fun, you know? And guess what: I bet you didn't even know that you were the one being stalked."

Ahiru looked ready to hit him over the head with a frying pan, so Fakir quickly changed the subject. "Autor discovered some shady things going on, and eventually Autor came to suspect that Mytho and Rue were behind the suspicious deaths that had been occurring recently. By keeping track - not stalking - the two, he found out that Rue regularly met with Mytho, and by following Mytho he could see that he was coming to your shop."

Ahiru's breath froze in her chest. Those suspicious deaths...had been her doing.

"Autor did a bit more digging. It didn't make sense until we saw that you, a seemingly innocent store-keeper, had also been the same bumbling girl who came to ballet class at my company and did suspicious things. We had our theories, and Autor guessed that there was a 65% chance that you had been sent to kill me. There was also a probability that Mytho was employing more than one agent."

"So that's why you wouldn't die!" Ahiru exclaimed.

"And, if I die, Rue gets everything that I'm supposed to inherit. A couple of well-timed deaths have tied the whole thing up in bureaucratic red tape until she can get to killing me." My doing, Ahiru realized. "But I have to die in a way that doesn't look like she tried to kill me. Meaning, if it's an unexplained shooting, her inheritance is cast into doubt. Nevertheless, for her it was something like a golden opportunity."

"And you didn't expose any of this to the police."

"I'll get to that later." Fakir's expression darkened. "Instead, we were planning to arrange for an accident. Tonight, actually."

"What accident? Mytho's also planning an accident, I'll bet!"

"We can't worry about that now."

"You're right," Ahiru sighed. "He's too careful to set off a bomb or set the place on fire without making sure you're there first."

"So you suspect a bombing or arson."

"I was planning to engineer a bombing," Ahiru admitted, earning a glare from Fakir. "I wouldn't put it past him."

"Don't think about it." Fakir commanded. "Just don't."

Ahiru looked down, weighed down with guilt. The terrible truth sank in her chest.

She had killed Fakir's father. He had been only another target at the time, but now...

"Well, don't you look depressed," Fakir remarked dryly.

"Ah, um, yes." Ahiru knew she should apologize, or something - but she had no idea of how to do so, and shied away from mentioning the subject. "So, ah, can you explain why you didn't tell the police about what Rue's been planning?"

"Long story short, blackmail. And lots of it."


The blonde woman hurried down the stairs, swinging the mace in her grip. She had taken a risk, indeed, with this new deceit...but it could not be helped. The plan had been derailed already - too early for that! - with the absence of her target.

If he didn't turn up soon, she might need to do a little traveling.