Moonlight Charm
Chapter one.
Late night in Miami found Talisman Metternich making a discovery. There was nothing in the world that shocked her anymore. But as she had bitterly learned, not all things were as they seemed. University kids were out getting smashed and wasted before finals in two days. Tonight was no different then any other; save for the fact that the party found her kneeling in blood and wishing that she was the one who was dead.
With her last reason for staying dead in her arms certain thoughts could no longer be denied. They were that she had spent far too long with her secrets. They had cost yet another life, another meaningless year, another nightmare. There was no justice in her world. No one to say what was right or wrong. It was all based on what an individual decided to do. Priceless choices that often brought ruin and despair to others.
Keller was now a part of that price.
Releasing her dead friend she sat back on her heels, staring at the blood on her hands. Would there ever be a soap strong enough to make them clean? Sadly she realized there was no such thing. How had she done this to herself? Gone was the reserved German school girl who had dreamed of being an artist, to this...whatever it was. She was sick to discover just how far she had fallen from grace. Staring at the body another thought came to the surface: How many was that now? A dozen? Two dozen, three? She had lost count in the last little while. Not counting was the only way to stay sane about the whole thing. Staring into Keller's bloodless face, she found nothing but cold inside herself. Much like what now showed in the once vibrant eyes of the man. Heaving a sigh she pulled Keller into her arms and lifted the body off the ground. There was a slight squish to the soaked grass that was only in part because of the rain.
Carrying the cold object in her arms she left the park and crossed the vacant grounds to her waiting Lexus. Music pushed out of the clubs and bars, hailing to her peers to stop in. She took a moment to watch the smiling and happy faces. The girls in their skintight pants and tops. The boys in their shorts and silk shirts. Cars that were the crème Del a crème rolled back and forth. There was a sense of life and vitality like a promise of chaos. That was what she like about this part of Miami, the contained destruction that vibrated from everything. Shaking her head she stared down the car she had bought two years ago. A midnight blue Lexus. Specially tinted black windows reflected back the Miami nightline and showed a world weary woman. Talisman stopped and stared at herself very closely in those windows. People had often described her as beautiful, stunning, perfect. Skin that was unstained by make-up and milk white in color Hair that was described as ashen; was longer then she had ever remembered it being. Going past her shoulders in front and nearly to her hips in back. A black wool coat that was damp in the tropic air sat too big on her thin body. A few months ago it had fit perfectly. Were things really that bad? As she asked herself as her eyes fixed on themselves. Black glass showed her the moonlight-silver irises that had cursed her from birth.
Frowning at her face she opened the door and stuffed the body in the backseat. Reaching into the pocket of the coat she pulled out blue Rayban sunglasses. Even though it was night she could seem perfectly in the dim lighting. Sliding behind the wheel she saw that someone had paged her while she was out. Bringing up the computer screen set in her dash board, she typed in the password. The machine worked and brought up the message.
"Lend Bowen a hand. Details to follow, Scythe."
"Damn." She whispered turning the key, the luxury car purred to life under her. " Damn, damn, damn."
Bowen Delray operated in San Francisco. The one was place she had avoided by every means possible short of flying to the moon, for over five years. Do in part to Bowen hand his group, and do in part to the fact that the city was never good to her. Every time she had been their someone had died, some building had been destroyed and she had come close to dying several times. Contrary to what was said she hadn't enjoy the experience. Five years had come and gone and had done nothing make her unease fade.
As Talisman entered the traffic around the main strip she saw the face on the screen. Details, Scythe had promised details. He was one of the few men she knew that kept his promises. Too bad it always involved someone dying. Talisman adjusted her speed as she came up behind a limousine. She stared at the screen and watched as the target materialized. It was always the details that took the fun out of her life. She stared at the slender face, the dark waves of hair and electric blue eyes. The name was typed at the bottom followed by a list of addresses and contact numbers. In brackets at the very far corner of the screen was a single word: Toreador.
" While is always the creative people who get the axe?" Talisman muttered to the dead man in the back seat.
She shook her head and drove one handed as she pulled out the keyboard and typed in her call-sign. Scythe would know she had accepted the target and was on her way.
Chapter one.
Late night in Miami found Talisman Metternich making a discovery. There was nothing in the world that shocked her anymore. But as she had bitterly learned, not all things were as they seemed. University kids were out getting smashed and wasted before finals in two days. Tonight was no different then any other; save for the fact that the party found her kneeling in blood and wishing that she was the one who was dead.
With her last reason for staying dead in her arms certain thoughts could no longer be denied. They were that she had spent far too long with her secrets. They had cost yet another life, another meaningless year, another nightmare. There was no justice in her world. No one to say what was right or wrong. It was all based on what an individual decided to do. Priceless choices that often brought ruin and despair to others.
Keller was now a part of that price.
Releasing her dead friend she sat back on her heels, staring at the blood on her hands. Would there ever be a soap strong enough to make them clean? Sadly she realized there was no such thing. How had she done this to herself? Gone was the reserved German school girl who had dreamed of being an artist, to this...whatever it was. She was sick to discover just how far she had fallen from grace. Staring at the body another thought came to the surface: How many was that now? A dozen? Two dozen, three? She had lost count in the last little while. Not counting was the only way to stay sane about the whole thing. Staring into Keller's bloodless face, she found nothing but cold inside herself. Much like what now showed in the once vibrant eyes of the man. Heaving a sigh she pulled Keller into her arms and lifted the body off the ground. There was a slight squish to the soaked grass that was only in part because of the rain.
Carrying the cold object in her arms she left the park and crossed the vacant grounds to her waiting Lexus. Music pushed out of the clubs and bars, hailing to her peers to stop in. She took a moment to watch the smiling and happy faces. The girls in their skintight pants and tops. The boys in their shorts and silk shirts. Cars that were the crème Del a crème rolled back and forth. There was a sense of life and vitality like a promise of chaos. That was what she like about this part of Miami, the contained destruction that vibrated from everything. Shaking her head she stared down the car she had bought two years ago. A midnight blue Lexus. Specially tinted black windows reflected back the Miami nightline and showed a world weary woman. Talisman stopped and stared at herself very closely in those windows. People had often described her as beautiful, stunning, perfect. Skin that was unstained by make-up and milk white in color Hair that was described as ashen; was longer then she had ever remembered it being. Going past her shoulders in front and nearly to her hips in back. A black wool coat that was damp in the tropic air sat too big on her thin body. A few months ago it had fit perfectly. Were things really that bad? As she asked herself as her eyes fixed on themselves. Black glass showed her the moonlight-silver irises that had cursed her from birth.
Frowning at her face she opened the door and stuffed the body in the backseat. Reaching into the pocket of the coat she pulled out blue Rayban sunglasses. Even though it was night she could seem perfectly in the dim lighting. Sliding behind the wheel she saw that someone had paged her while she was out. Bringing up the computer screen set in her dash board, she typed in the password. The machine worked and brought up the message.
"Lend Bowen a hand. Details to follow, Scythe."
"Damn." She whispered turning the key, the luxury car purred to life under her. " Damn, damn, damn."
Bowen Delray operated in San Francisco. The one was place she had avoided by every means possible short of flying to the moon, for over five years. Do in part to Bowen hand his group, and do in part to the fact that the city was never good to her. Every time she had been their someone had died, some building had been destroyed and she had come close to dying several times. Contrary to what was said she hadn't enjoy the experience. Five years had come and gone and had done nothing make her unease fade.
As Talisman entered the traffic around the main strip she saw the face on the screen. Details, Scythe had promised details. He was one of the few men she knew that kept his promises. Too bad it always involved someone dying. Talisman adjusted her speed as she came up behind a limousine. She stared at the screen and watched as the target materialized. It was always the details that took the fun out of her life. She stared at the slender face, the dark waves of hair and electric blue eyes. The name was typed at the bottom followed by a list of addresses and contact numbers. In brackets at the very far corner of the screen was a single word: Toreador.
" While is always the creative people who get the axe?" Talisman muttered to the dead man in the back seat.
She shook her head and drove one handed as she pulled out the keyboard and typed in her call-sign. Scythe would know she had accepted the target and was on her way.