Chapter 5: Late For My Own Wedding

She wasn't a woman for pleading. A notion her mother determinedly drilled into her like a hammer thundering onto a nail and piercing stone. Her mother, alone with only a babe in her arms after the war claimed thousands of men, taught her to never beg. Though her mother swallowed her pride and did what she must for her and her child to survive in a cold and unforgiving world, her daughter will never tread the road she was forced to walk alone on. Never. Her mother, now tired but not broken from a world that never ceased to whip her to endlessly toil away at filth and grime, gently combed her daughter's red hair with a golden brush. The cruelty of the world did not erode away her tenderness. Delicately combing through strands of ruby red hair, lace woven from the almighty sun. Just like her husband's. The woman rested her hand on her daughter's shoulder, and was met by a warm cheek.

"Saints above," the mother smiled at her daughter, holding back tears as she gazed upon her reflection in the mirror. A sight of unimaginable radiance. "You are a saint. No doubt your father is wondering how the earth has risen to the heavens for him to be able to see you in such splendid beauty now."

The girl wiped away her tears. She promised herself that she would not cry on her wedding day, but some promises are made to be broken. Just this once. She turned around and held her mother's hands within her own; simultaneously thanking her and telling her how much she loved her between sniffles and laughs and an occasional snort.

In a few turns of the sun, she would be elevated from the caste she was born into and become what she has only ever foolishly dared to dream. She was to be a married woman. Lady Sturn, wife of Captain Theodore Sturn, Sea Captain of his majesty the King's finest naval vessels. Finally she could give her mother the life she truly deserved. There will be no more cleaning, no more laboring, no more pain without reprieve of breaks, no more beatings from cruel masters. "Mother, the only thing you will ever be tired of is boredom!"

Her mother feigned an annoyed scoff. "How dare a child of mine condemn this life upon me! You terrible girl."

The bride laughed. "The absolute worst!"

Her mother kissed her gently on her forehead and bestowed upon her a final gift. She whispered to her daughter, words to hold tight to her heart. 'For there are people in the world who will do everything in their power to make you believe you have none. By God's gift of free will you have power, a right bestowed to all his children; a gift that is used and abused by those same children. The blessings and curses of our God's gift of free will. Though we are born into a caste that kneels and toils away in the dirt, we do not bow.' Her mother wagged her finger in the air, exultantly. 'You will not bow to those people. There are those who have shown you kindness, but I've lived long enough to know the fight isn't over. It never is. But you and I, we are fighters. The world hasn't thrown us battles we couldn't take down before. They cannot make you bow, only if you hand over your power to them. So live and fight. Love and triumph. Dream and rejoice. I am proud of the girl I raised and the woman I see growing before my very eyes. Blessings to you, my child-Oh no don't cry!'

A voice called out from behind the chamber door. A touch of concern, but also a playful laugh. "I hear crying. Is my wife in need of rescuing, from my wicked stepmother?"

The bride's face blushed intensely as she clamped her hands over her hot cheeks. Even now, something inside her spun with immaculate joy when he called her his wife. Shakespeare be damned, that was all the poetry she ever needed to hear. The conflicting urges to hide and the one to run steadfast into his arms consumed her whole. No. Hide. She must hide. She will have the rest of her life to run into his open arms. "It's Theo! He can't see me!"

Her mother knew he wouldn't dare open the door, but that didn't stop her from draping the lace veil over her daughter's face. "Are you testing luck to see the bride before the wedding, Theodore?"

There was a pause. Thoughtful introspection. "The risk is worth taking, madam. I can only ever see her this once, at this fleeting moment, until the next arrives."

She looked at her daughter and sighed, wistfully. "Can I walk down the aisle instead?"

"Mother!"

Mother and daughter both laughed.

The woman pretended she was urgently needed elsewhere and left her daughter and her betrothed alone.

The young bride's cheeks flushed as she approached the door and pressed her palms against the cool cedar oak. The only thing that was separating them. How far apart it made her feel from him. He was only standing beyond her, barely an arm's length away, yet she couldn't reach out to him. Is this what it means to be in love? To bear this ache that swells in her chest whenever he is near, or far. It wasn't an unpleasant ache, she welcomed it. She wanted to commit this feeling to memory, the power he has over her heart to make it sing and ache and thrum with passion.

A spark ignited within her, like when a log splits in half from the crackling flames, when the door handle turned. Instinctively, she pushed the door back earning her a startled yelp from her betrothed. Great, she was going to start off her marriage by chopping off one of her husband's fingers. She rushed out her words, "Theo, are you alright?"

"Darling," Theodore's voice carried through the wood. "Sharks should fear you."

At this moment she panicked and thought of all the ways in which her wedding was going to take place not in a chapel, but in an infirmary, with her husband placing one hand on the bible and the other in the hands of a doctor sewing back on his finger. She was a devout Christian, but she had an unfortunate tendency of accidentally doing Satan's work.

She opened the door a few inches, "let me see your hand." The bride took his hand in hers, but then stopped herself from opening the door completely when she saw Theo's fully fingered and uninjured hand, and heard him laughing. How dare he.

"Theodore," she yelled a whisper, cheeks turning red. "You're a wicked man."

"I've never not claimed wickedness as a vice, and I'm not starting now." He didn't have the decency to hide the laughter in his voice.

She blinked her eyes. They were still holding hands.

"Wait," Theodore's voice softened. "Can we stay like this, for a little longer?"

He'd never had to ask, but she hummed at his braziness and held on to her captain.

"Theodore." Her heart beated louder in her chest.

"Hm?"

"Say it."

"Say what, my darling?"

She looked down at their hands, intertwined. Still caught in a dream of disbelief that this is her life. She'd pinch herself to see if it was all real, but his touch alone, his hand in hers, confirmed it all was.

He knew. He leaned his head forward and she could feel the echoes of his voice pulsate down her skin, tingling with incredible delight.

"My wife, Araminta."

"Again."

"My beautiful wife, Araminta."

"Once more."

He laughed once, "You're not tired of that?"

"Never. I could never tire of it. I doubt I'll ever be."

"And this?"

He raised her hand to his lips and bestowed upon her a kiss.

She hummed.

"Your verdict?"

She drew out her response, leaving suspense to gnaw at him. "Once more, so I may think it over."

Her hand was a breath away from his rosy lips. His skin was smooth too, clean shaven. Her breath quickened and all her senses rushed forth upon her, every morsel of her being catching fire.

The corners of his lips curved up lightly into a grin. Impishly. He was a man of God, but he was well acquainted with the devil. "I await your verdict tonight. Araminta."

Psyche wiped her eyes with her sleeves. How many more times was she going to fall hopelessly in love with Theodore Sturn? Ah, memories of the main characters' first meeting rushed forth into her mind. Reminiscing the start of their heroic journey. Araminta, the fearlessly brave and spunky heroine, escaped the abusive house she was indentured to and secretly boarded The Queen's Galley, one of Theo's ships, by smuggling herself into crates of smuggled goods because an embargo was placed on the mystic isles as punishment for political officials siding against the king. Theo was smuggling goods to the isles because families were starving. He just had to be so purehearted. And then! Psyche's heart swooned in remembrance, a sailor, of no considerable importance other than leading the heroine to her soon to be but not yet known true love, heard a ruckus in storage and found Araminta sandwiched between crates of alfalfa beans. Fearing he was going to throw her off the ship as women back then were seen as bad omens who brought bad luck, misfortune, the plague, or all three, onto ships.

Psyche sighed at those archaic times. Men. Apparently to them all evil in the world resided in boobs. Araminta whacked the idiocy out of the sailor with her cleverness, beguiling beauty, and cool demeanor.

And a hefty frying pan.

Araminta never held a man hostage before, but she was a quick study. Night befell the ship, and so did an intruder in the Captain's cabin.

Psyche squirmed in her seat, a goofy grin stretching all across her face as she flipped back to the beginning of the book. Rereading her favorite scenes.

Calypsa, busy speaking-and apologizing-to the Zoldycks, covered her phone with her hand and asked her other daughters who were still tethered to the realm of reality and not fantasy, "Is she alright?" She carefully mouthed the words.

Chaotica looked up from her phone and mouthed. "Nope."

Captain Theodore found Araminta, the stowaway, and his sailor with a pistol pointed to his head, in his cabin. As Psyche fell back on the seat with her book glued to her face, Theodore was faced with a delicious dilemma of his own.

His voice was husky and deep, "You are not a pirate." Cautiously stepping closer towards Araminta. She cocked the pistol. He stepped back.

"No, I am a woman, but that does not make me any less dangerous."

Theodore eyed the pistol in her hands, and the sailor's beading forehead touching the black eye of the weapon. He believed that.

Theodore raised his hands and gestured to his cabinet, filled with sparkling glass bottles. He would be rude if he didn't offer his guest a drink-

Psyche's book flew out of her hands and into her mom's lap. Calypsa deadpanned, "no more reading."

Psyche balked at the command. It was as if she was asking her not to breathe! "Mom, I was literally at the scene where they were about to get married, at least let me finish that."

"YOU are about to get married." Calypsa sternly corrected.

Psyche pursed her lips, failing to suppress a smile she was too indifferent to hide, and whispered a tale of sweet gossip as if she heard it herself first hand. "The Captain's ex-fiance is attending the wedding, he invited her to show he still cares about her as a friend and that there is no malice between them, I mean, SHE was the one who cheated on him while he was away at sea. But. BUT-

Chaotica chirped, "There's butt stuff? Nice."

Psyche shushed her, "NO. The ex-fiance, Luella, is wearing the exact same gown she wore at her and Theo's engagement ball when they were still together. Of course, her family lost a considerable amount of money because her father gambled so much of it away, so she couldn't buy a new gown and that's the nicest gown she owns, but really, that's what she chose to wear? Theo's mother was going to ask her to leave until he stopped her. Because weddings aren't for making enemies. Oh, It's so scandalous!"

"That's lovely, dear." Calypsa said, barely listening as she folded the book closed and placed it beside her and the door, far away from her youngest child's hands. "You'll get dizzy from reading in the car. Look out the window and enjoy the scenery."

Psyche turned her head towards the window and looked out. Eyes glaring at the light. There was nothing more dull and disappointing than reality. She blinked her eyes and turned her attention back to her mom, who was trying to rub away a tension headache to no avail. Psyche wished there was someone for her to talk to with books about. Someone who wouldn't look at her as if she had two heads. A silent ache of loneliness slowed her heart as a memory, long kept hidden, crept its way in.

She had a person like that once. She had Eros.

No! Stop thinking about him! He's good and dead. It was for the best.

"They don't think you want this."

The cold words pierced Psyches' stomach, throttling her back to reality. She gripped her hands tight. She didn't want to stumble over her words, but that's how they came out. "They..they said that?"

"No, they didn't need to. But I will say, there is a takeaway from your book as it offered you a valuable lesson. Weddings aren't for making enemies. They're for making allies and we need them. First impressions are everything and now is not the time to waver. You need to dazzle them. Blind them. Convince them that there is no other choice, but you. There is no other woman for their son, but you. There is no other assassin that can lead the future generations of their family, but you. There is only you. I've done my part, Psyche. I made them see only you. Now, it's your turn. Don't let them lose focus."

Psyche's eyes resonated deep with conviction. "I want this more than anything."

"Then show them. Show them you are ready and willing to commit like I know you are."

Anomie added, "Becoming a Zoldyck is basically becoming a legend. So is killing one, but we want the former one for you."

Chaotica murmured under her breath as she was scrolling through instagram. "Bone your way to success."

Anomie punched her in the arm, giving a face that read 'what the fuck.'

"What the fuck." Chaotica hissed.

"You're in a bad mood today."

"What an observation. My day started off great until her," Chaotica waved her hands to Psyche, all accusatory, "evil shadow thing or WHATEVER tried to kill me. Illumi might as well be marrying two brides. A jekyll and a hyde. Except maybe it's just two hydes."

Anomie exhaled through her nose, quelling her rage. "We have been over this. The situation is under control."

"Oh, really?" Chaotica turned to Calypsa. "Do they know? Do they know we have this situation under control? Because we've been doing such a good job about it and the perfect way to start allyships is definitely by keeping secrets. It'll be a fun surprise for them down the road."

Psyche wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear.

Calypsa sat up straight, shoulders back. Eyes dark. "Chaotica, if you wish to be snippy with me then i'll be snippy with you. The first thing to go will be your tongue."

Anomie snapped her index and middle fingers together. Snip snip snip.

Chaotica slumped back in her seat, accepting defeat. "Everybody in this family is out to get me."

"Family doesn't kill family, dear."

Chaotica chuckled to herself then turned to Psyche. "You shouldn't tell them about Eros either."

"GIRLS. ENOUGH. Because of our delayed departure, and the traffic, the wedding ceremony is being postponed-GRAVA, WHAT IS KEEPING US STUCK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HIGHWAY?!"

The head maid responded gravely. "There was an accident ahead of us, ma'am. From what I see, it is a mess."

Chaotica leaned on top of Psyche and gushed. Smiling. "Grava, don't go cheap on the details. Did anyone die?"

Someone will if they keep interrupting Calypsa. "Given the catastrophe up the road ahead, terrible tragedy as it was, let's hope those poor souls pull through, but thank God. Oh thank the merciful heavens." Calypsa sighed back in her seat, releasing an abundance of tension. "The disaster on the road was enough of an explanation as to why we're running late. The details of this morning's events will not be spoken about again. As I'm certain Psyche will not let it happen again.

"Yes, mom-Get off." Psyche pushed her sister back.

Chaotica rebelled by clamping her arms around Psyche and giving her a hug. This was even more terrifying than her usual behavior.

"Anomie," Psyche shrieked. "Tell her to stop."

Anomie yawned, "why? She makes her own decisions."

"That's right." Chaotica nestled her chin in Psyche's neck, sending shivers down the young assassin's spine. "You're just so cuddly-OW SHE BIT ME."

"I did not! Your hand wasn't even close to my mouth! Anomie, you saw that I didn't bite her. She's making things up again."

"Psyche," Anomie breathed and shook her head. "Why did you bite our sister? She just wants to show you that she loves you. We never raised you to be this thoughtless."

"Love me less." Psyche deadpanned.

"Never-you're so cute when you shriek!"

"Girls." Calypsa barked. "Psyche, let Chaotica hug you. She loves you. You need to accept that this is who she is and get on with it."

"Thank you, mommy." Chaotica's eyes sparkled.

Psyche's jaw dropped.

"Yay! You're my best friend in the whole world." Chaotica cheered and snuggled Psyche harder. Whispering into her ear. "I win."

As Psyche contemplated flinging herself out the car door for a quick and peaceful death, she remembered that it wasn't she who needed to die today.

"Oh my god, GRAVA STOP THE CAR."

"Permitting if the ambulance in front of us drives any slower." Grava honked her horn at the car ahead.

The driver of the ambulance rolled his window down and gave them a look. He didn't need to say anything more to tell them to fuck off.

Psyche ducked her head. What has she done? If were to fling herself out of the car now, she'd be denied medical aid for sure. But that wasn't the problem at hand.

"Mom," Psyche turned to Calypsa, "Mind if I kill?"

Dezmon Foile was going to die. This did not shock him. In fact, he anticipated it.

Dezmon Foile cocked his rifle and aimed into the desolate field. Why was he shooting round after round of bullets all by himself? Dezmon didn't need a reason. He shot a bullet into the field; the bullet skewering trees, bark exploding, birds flying. He took a moment and appreciated the sound of the bullet slicing the air with godspeed. Feeling it ricochet through the barrel, traveling up his arms, and savoring the way it made his body recoil from its powerful smite. He could fire wherever he wanted and whenever he wanted. This was his property, his land-his kingdom.

As its king he'd do anything to protect it from those who wanted nothing but destroy it.

His eyes frantically darted between the trees and the bushes and the bromegrass. Sweat falling down his brow. This was no time for folly as his enemies were large and numerous.

His enemies were everywhere.

Even if he was the only person able to see them. They hid in the walls and in the forest. They burrowed beneath his skin and crawled behind his eyes. They trespassed behind his mirrors and tampered with his clocks. They hid in bunkers beneath his home and whispered treason through his vents.

He fired another round into the woods. Hoping he struck one of his enemies.

It wasn't until recently that he heard the invisible spies whispering in the vents of his mansion, plotting his death and possession of his land. But the invisible spies were too careless and let their guard down when they thought he was asleep. Oh how clever he was to fool them as they spoke of their malicious machinations directly above his head. He was no idiot.

Dezmon heard everything as he pretended to snore when they spoke of killing him.

Dezmon knew how to thwart their plans.

And so, the following day Dezmon did just that. He grabbed his pistol and drove around his property. Inspecting the grounds as he usually does every morning. He stopped in front of his gardener's house, as his property was large and needed daily maintenance.

The gardener wheeled a cart of freshly shipped begonias he was to plant all around the north side of the garden. The gardener smiled and waved as he saw Dezmon roll up on his driveway.

Dezmon shot the gardener five times then drove away.

He called the police immediately after and framed the murder on another one of his workers.

But even after he killed the gardener the voices didn't end! He still heard them whispering in his vents, growing louder and louder every night. The gardener was but one of many assassins who were out to get him. A conspiracy against him that was more vast and ruthless than he originally thought.

Just last night as he pretended to sleep he heard the invisible spies speaking Russian, they kept their voices hushed, but he could clearly make out their tongue. Dezmon studied the language in all but five days, so he considered himself a master. He knew his enemies were extensive ever since his email account was hacked into by russian artificial intelligence programs. Commonly referred to as bots on the world wide web. Luckily, they only stole his credit card information before they could do serious damage.

A shadow slithered through the trees.

Dezmon's adrenaline spiked.

He smiled.

So, they've finally come for him.

He tossed aside his rifle and unveiled his biggest toy for the job. An AEK-9990. This machine gun was outlawed a decade ago for its unpredictability when firing and tendency to randomly explode uncontrollably when in use. But he knew all along that the government just didn't want him to have it. Ha! He held down the trigger as he screamed war cries in Russian, "do svidaniya sukaaaaaaaa!"

Ears ringing and head spinning, he breathed heavily as the final bullet reigned unto the shadowy beast. Death to the monsters.

"Did I get it?" he asked himself, narrowing his eyes in the blackness of the forest. There in the field, sprawled along the wild brush and swaying slender reeds of pale blue stems was a body sticking out. A wicked grin spread across the old man's face. He defeated his monsters. He jumped up from the ground with ecstatic joy and ran to see his kill. To see the thing that tried to kill him. To relish his victory. A king cannot lose on his own battlefield. He'll cut off its head and mount it on his wall! Let it be a lesson to anymore to dares to take him down-

He fell backwards, shaking and staring up at the creature who was quite not dead. "What the hell…"

A great black shadowy beast stood up on its hindlegs. Dezmon had never encountered a creature like it before. Its arms were too long for its body as they dangled by its sides, hovering over the wild grass. Its legs look disjointed, as if it was made to walk on all fours yet stood comfortably on two. The head was a hide of crinkly fur and pointed long ears. Everything about the creature was black, except its eyes. They were white, yet there was no light within them. As if they were hollowed out with a dull blade and kept bare.

The creature looked down.

The man shuddered.

It starred beyond his head, signaling to Dezmon that the creature itself was not the devious master, but an obedient doll.

Another claimed that role for herself. Dezmon turned around and saw a girl. Young and beautiful.

Those were the dangerous type.

Dezmon was stunned as the girl squatted down before him and looked him dead in the eyes. She poked his forehead with his pistol, unafraid. The same pistol he used to murder his gardener. His eyes met that of the weapon, sending shivers down his spine. He has no problem waving a gun from ground to sky, but doesn't like it when a gun is pointed at him. The girl clicked her tongue, how hypocritical.

"You are a paranoid, crazy, old man." She accentuated the words slowly, tapping the weapon on his forehead with every syllable.

His mouth was dry, his lips were cracked, and his eyes were wide as if he was struck blindingly with headlights. He began to mumble something in Russian.

He asked her if she was the invisible spy in his home. Though she didn't wander through his vents or travel through his mirrors, Psyche was able to play along with his paranoia. Toying with the madness already brewing in his mind. She had a wonderful time messing around with his clocks. Even the pistol, she held at his head. That was his. She'd stolen it weeks ago. It drove him mad not knowing where it was. Even though his mind was filled to the brim with fear, a part of him was relieved it came back to him.

Darkness adorned her face, wearing it like a wedding veil. It was a strange and beguiling beauty, but she was a strange girl. She smiled back at him in silence, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Let his paranoia eat away at him until his very last breath.

"Get up." Her voice was all ice and dread. The man didn't hesitate to follow her commands.

"What do you want me to do?" Psyche asked Harlow, a widow. She looked at the woman with sympathy, who held a picture of her deceased husband in one hand and the fatherless child in the other. Teardrops plopped onto the glass frame of a man smiling in a garden, sun shining off his corn silk hair. The little boy, barely old enough to understand what was happening, rested his head on his mother's lap and patted her softly. Trying to take away her pain.

"Jeremy was a horticulturalist and loved working outside. That's all he ever wanted to do. He met Foile when he took on an adjunct position working as a part time professor at one of his museums. He met Foile and they hit it off immediately. Jeremy was wowed by Foile's estate since it is a recognized nature reserve and had plants only native to that area. Foile offered him a job on the estate. He'd carry out his research and maintain the grounds. And it worked for a while...until Foile started acting out. He'd do bizarre things? He'd display his guns in the halls and prop them up at the dining table when he ate dinner. He had all the paintings of his ancestors taken out of the estate and burned because he 'didn't like the faces they were making at him when he left the room.' For god sake, the man drove his car into the lake, TWICE, and the police just brushed it off as 'oh that's just silly old Foile,' and did nothing. Whenever his antics became worse and worse, the police still did nothing. Makes sense because the police were bent over backwards and had their hands in his wallet. Jeremy stayed because Foile supported his research, but he was going to quit when he was offered a full time position at the museum. He handed in his resignation to Foile and he took it well. We only had one week left at the estate before," the woman's voice broke. The little boy looked up, beautiful blue eyes staring into his mother's. She combed her hand through his blonde curls. She looked back up at the assassin. Gathering her strength. "One spring morning, Foile drove up to the house and shot Jeremy five times. Not all at once." The memories stung at her heart as she was forced to remember that tragic day. Jeremy saw the gun and turned to run, but Foile shot him once in the chest. The man fell to the ground, clawing his fingers into the dirt, trying to propel himself forward. Foile just….watched. With an amused look on his face. Like he was watching a worm agonizingly writhe in the mud after the rain. He fired and watched. Fired and watched. Again and again with twisted repetition. The fourth bullet killed him. He fired the fifth just to see if he was dead. "I ran outside and then he pointed it at me and-I was a coward. At the time, I was pregnant and I-everything in my brain stopped working and I ran back inside. Fuck." Tears came. There was no stopping them. At that moment, she betrayed her husband. She never forgave herself since.

"What do you want me to do?" Psyche asked again. She heard about the trial on the news. Foile walked away free and the man he framed was sentenced to death. He had all the money in the world to do as he pleased. But money doesn't buy normalcy nor placate hostile minds.

Harlow held onto the picture of her husband. He was so happy and young and optimistic. They had their whole lives ahead of them. But Foile stole that from them. He was a crook and a murderer hiding behind gilded walls of diamonds and shields made of gold. In the blind eyes of Justice, the scales were balanced-but those with power tipped the scales in their favor. Money fosters corruption. Corruption hordes money. The elite manipulate the scales since Lady Justice only holds it by the base.

She gripped the frame til her knuckles turned ghostly white. Finally, she looked up. Eyes stung red from years of harboring the weight of grief and guilt and loss. The assassin's eyes reflected her own. She was tired of lighting candles and singing empty hymns and sending unheard prayers to a God not knowing if he was listening. She did not need sympathy, pity, or God; She needed an angel of death.

Her chair violently screeched against the floor as she fell forward, clasping Psyche's hands within her own. Trembling.

'Release me of this pain.'

Psyche was feeling generous today. She was going to give Dezmon a head start. She clicked her tongue and her monster obeyed. The shadow monster growled, unhinging its jaws and flexing its claws. Preparing for the hunt. Dezmon Foile needed incentive to run.

The assassin's eyes sparkled as she mouthed one word to him. Run.

There was no room in this world for old, deranged men.

He stumbled at first, knees buckling under the uneven terrain of his land while her shadow monster's claws dug into the ground and sprung up the earth with every leap it took. She can't have him sprain his ankle, now can she? She lifted the pistol and aimed high and center. The first place he shot his victim was in the chest.

Dezmon Foile was sentenced to die, by living through Jeremy's death.

The sound of the pistol pierced the gray sky. As if Psyche was commanding the woods to awaken. Jolting every living being within it to life. The still silence that followed was the woods listening. Anticipating her next strike.

Dezmon clawed his way among the brush, grunting as the pain seared through him. She walked closer towards him. The next place Dezmon shot was the left lung.

Bang.

Then the right.

Bang.

The same spot again.

Bang.

The final blow out of dreaded curiosity.

Bang.

Psyche bent down towards the man, hair falling over her eyes. He was dead.

Smiling to herself. That was a job well done! She tossed the gun aside, ugh, how she hated those barbaric weapons. She spun back on her heel and placed her gloves back in her purse.

She looked down at her hand and saw a glowing red light penetrating beneath her skin. Numbers. Along with a tiny little creature that latched onto her arm, its tail coiled around her wrist, never taking its eyes off the time. As was its greatest priority. It counted down the seconds to itself, never waving from its dutiful task. This little nen creature was named Vesper and it belonged to Grava. It was the reason Psyche was able to travel a great distance instantaneously-teleportation. Her stay here was short lived, she only had a few minutes left to spare then Vesper will teleport her back into her original location-squished between her family back on the highway for god knows how many more countless and agonizing hours.

Psyche could teleport back now...or not. She wasn't going to squander a precious opportunity of freedom, but most importantly, silence. Vesper can drag her back through space when the time comes. Just not right now.

This was Psyche time and she was going to treat herself. Her mother was a fool to think she'd successfully stop her from reading a book. Calypsa may have her book, but Psyche has her phone which includes the e-book version of The Captain and I. Ha, no force on earth can separate her from her fictitious 18th century lover-not even her mother. Theodore and Araminta beckon her just beyond her screen. Her family can wait.

Dezmon was insane, but his land was beautiful. Psyche plopped down on the earth with a heavy sigh and sprawled herself in the luscious bloom of the brush and wild flowers imagining a world unlike her own as she read on her phone where there were only dashing pirates, moonlight balls, and enchanted kingdoms floating on ocean waves.

And love. Love that was heart-stopping, mind-numbing, breathtaking, and dare she say, indulgently passionate.

There were no killings, no nagging mothers or bickering sisters pulling her in opposite directions all at once. There were times when she felt she was going to snap (being stuck in the car was one of them,) but now is not one of those moments. Against the better judgement of her mind, her mom's words echoed in her ears. Enjoy the scenery.

For once in her life, she did two unthinkable things.

She listened to her mom, and put down her phone.

She breathed in the wild, clean air and basked in the glory of the splendorous green. Now was a moment in which she knew her life was coming together. The quiet cacophony of the field offered her pristine clarity, she realized that.

The sky was gray, the clouds were scattered, yet she dared it to rain. Soak her through and through. Let the earth and wind immortalize this moment forever in her bones. Her last moments before she becomes a married woman. She turned on her side, pressing her hands against her red cheeks.

Her. A married woman.

She let out a squeal.

Suddenly, a black silhouette, alike in Psyche's form in every way, looked down at her face. Her rebellious shadow. It cocked its head to the side, slivers of hair fanning around its blackened face, and its white eyes blinked.

"Hello, my dearest friend. You caused a lot of trouble for me today. One catastrophe after another! From what happened in the morning, to the accident on the road mom is no doubt thankful for, I'm late to my own wedding!" Psyche said, admonishingly. Lifting her head and dropping it back down on the overgrown grass. "What is wrong with me? I want him," Psyche softly crooned," but it would be wrong to say I'm not nervous at all." She hoped he wanted her as much-and more-as she did him. "Feel my hands! I'm shaking." She laughed as she reached up to touch its cheek and it reached down to touch hers. There was a look in its eyes that Psyche didn't like. "I know why you're sad, but do not worry. I am never getting rid of you. What mom doesn't know won't kill her. I know what you did this morning was for my sake, and I'm thankful. Truly. But we mustn't cause any more trouble, alright. Eros is in my heart, and that's all that matters." She smiled, covering the crack in her voice.

The shadow's eyes crinkled in response. Psyche could tell it was smiling.

The shadow lifted its hand from Psyche's cheek. Hovering over her body. A glimmer of metal twinkled out of the dark as a gold chain fell from its hand and into Psyche's.

Every fiber in her lit up with joy.

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" Psyche pressed Eros's gold chain to her heart. "You mustn't cause any more trouble starting now!" She laughed.

The shadow's shoulders shook, mimicking Psyche's own laughter. But how was she going to hide it from her mom? Calypsa has a six sense for finding things her children keep hidden. As if her shadow read her own thoughts, it plucked the chain from her hand and pried open Psyche's mouth.

Part of her wondered how desperate she was to hide it. The other wondered how she wasn't desperate enough. So Psyche let it. The chain lowered further into her mouth, past her lips, all she had to do next was swallow-

A branch snapped.

Psyche spit out the chain. Coughing.

There was no one else there, except her, her shadow, and Dezmon Foile's corpse. Her body tensed as the corpse twitched and rigidly sat upright. It gave no regard to its surroundings as it was fighting the rigor mortis that was beginning to claim its body. The irises of his eyes were a pale shade of what they were in life, and his skin lost all color of warmth. There was a force beyond him that compelled his body to move. She used gyo and saw a halo of nen surrounding his body. Dark and dreary.

As far as she knew, Dezmon Foile was a regular man. Well, nothing that made him outstanding. He was paranoid as fuck, but incapable of nen. This power was not his own, so what was it? This aura was something else...she knew of nen curses. Perhaps the curse was cast on him and only activated after death? She flipped onto her side and frowned, bitterly. His spontaneous resurrection was cutting into her personal, relaxation time. She would have to kill him. Again.

"Psyche Moiraio," The dead man croaked, jaw jutting open and closed awkwardly.

Oh! The deadman knows her name! "How do you know my name?" She asked with genuine curiosity. Her name is rarely known to the outside world. She felt the deadman's nen, it exerted a force that was pushing her back. She wouldn't let it budge her.

It was definitely the work of a skilled nen user. She hoped it wasn't another bounty hunter proclaiming they were going to catch her and bring her to justice. No, if that were the case then they would already be handcuffing her and shoving her in the back seat of a police car.

No. Someone was stalking her and her clients.

The corpse only groaned. It wasn't capable of responding to questions.

"I come bearing a message for The Black Angel," The deadman rasped. "Do not marry Illumi Zoldyck-"

Psyche's eyes widened. Her shadow thrummed with anger and its hair spiked into slithers of black snakes. As it was about to attack the deadman, Psyche camly spoke. "Wait a moment, that can come later, I want to hear the rest of what it has to say."

The shadow was a hair's length away from slicing off the deadman's head. It looked back at Psyche, eyes pleading.

Instead of donning doom and gloom, Psyche spritely sat up straight, cross legged with a brilliant smile plastered on her face. From head to toe she was fizzing with unbridled excitement. Someone placed a nen curse on one of her hits to tell her not to marry her one and only betrothed? Thoughts were multiplying in her mind as weeds flourished in gardens if left uncontrolled.

Psyche was breathless, "It is a scorned lover?" She fell back into the grass and tragically began to monologue. "Bitterness has blackened their now dull aching heart, forsaken by the love which they sought with feverish obsession. They are overcome with jealousy that their love is never meant to be true." Psyche lowered her voice dramatically. "How does it feel, my dear, losing the best thing that has ever happened to you?" She raised her voice as if she was a heartbroken angel, who was denied the splendor of heaven's eternal paradise. She feigned a quiver as she lay back in the grass, "Like a part of my heart was ripped away and all that's left is a mangled clump of something that once was and never will be the same. I cannot trust a beat that trembles at the remembrance of fractured memories-of him and I, alone together-it's too much to bear!"

The shadow rolled its eyes.

Psyche sat up, face flushed and eyebrows burrowed. "I sensed that, and no! We're not killing it, yet."

The shadow lowered its clawed hand from the deadman's neck. Slowly.

Psyche cleared her voice. "Do I have an enemy I don't know of? Mom said there were other girls besides myself the Zoldycks were looking into, do you think it's one of them? Of course, deterring me from marrying him isn't necessarily going to increase their chances either as they have already been rejected." She said that happier than she intended to say.

The deadman, oblivious to the young assassin's delusional ramblings, continued on. "You are in danger."

Psyche sat forward, yearningly. More! She needs more details! "Danger from what? How many ex's does Illumi have? Was it one ex or did a bunch of them come together and cast this curse? Was he a player-which I doubt because y'know," She modestly gestured towards herself. Duh. "Unless maybe? Or is it a vengeful mother because their daughter wasn't chosen? I can see how that would bring about hostile feelings towards me, but that is no reason to stalk me and my clients." She waved her hand in the air; her gold chain sparkling from fragments of sunlight peeking out the gray clouds.

The deadman's eyes caught the light from the chain. Something in them softened.

Psyche looked between him and her chain, and she lowered it defensively. That was hers, not his.

The deadman rasped, "you still have it?" It's eyes glinted with recognition.

A cold storm swept through Psyche, "what did you say?" She weakly pushed herself off the ground and caught herself from stumbling as the world was shifting beneath her feet. Psyche walked towards the deadman and unconsciously reached out her hand. "Who are you?"

She looked at her hand as the number dropped to zero. Vesper opened its jaw and shrieked, "TIME!"

"No, Wai-"

The assassin and her shadow vanished into thin air under the gray sky that stood still and loomed over the dark woods below, whispering a quiet lullaby. Rain began to fall from a gentle pitter patter to a thunderous downpour. Drenching the fallen deadman and the secrets it will no longer be able to tell.

Chaos unleashed on Kukoroo Mountain.

Lady Kikyo gasped for air as she lay hunched over, pressing her hands against her bloody face. Wailing. Milluki was in no better condition as he leaned against the wall, supporting himself as he pressed his hands against his stab wound to stop the bleeding. Shit, Killua was stronger and faster than Milluki thought he was.

Milluki bitterly cursed at the butlers. "DAMN IT. DON'T JUST STAND THERE. HELP HER."

The butlers rushed towards Kikyo, "madam, we must stop the bleeding, please remove your hands."

Blood seeped between Kiyko's fingers, the wounds stung underneath her palms like hellfire. She ignored the butlers entirely, rasping to herself. "Kil...Kil...my baby boy..."

Tears mixed with blood as she cried.

Milluki ran to his mother, ignoring his own pain. He pushed aside the halfwitted butlers and held her in his arms. "Mom," Milluki grinded his teeth, "How dare Killua do this to you. I swear, I'm going to kill him. I'm going to hang him from his entrails until he begs for your forgiveness. I'm-"

Kikyo placed her red hands on Milluki's shoulders, staining his shirt with her handprints. A mother's mark.

Milluki's heart stopped.

It was not from seeing her face, which was brutally mangled, not by a wild or crazed beast, but by her own son. No. He was shocked to see that it was her quivering lips that curved into a smile.

Her tears were not made of sorrow, but of joy.

"Mom…" Milluki muttered, confused.

Kikyo rejoiced, "Milluki, did you see that terrifying expression on Killua's face? The slashes on mine? They will scar me for life. You must have felt it too when he struck you? His power, oh his cruel power." Tears streamed down her face, clearing away the blood as they fell. She brushed her hands against the border of Milluki's stab wound, overcome with ecstasy. He winced. It was not too deep, not enough to kill, but it served as a warning.

Control my life any longer and you will die.

Killua's words rang again in her head. He threatened her. He threatened his own mother and attempted to take her life because she stood in his way. He was a boy who was going to fight for his desires, whatever they may be.

She was hysterically wailing now. Her little boy was growing up right before her eyes into a cold blooded killer. She couldn't be more proud!

A butler entered the room and bowed, "Madam, Illumi tracked down Killua and his whereabouts. He is ready to apprehend him if you give him the command."

"No." Kikyo said far too quickly. She straightened her back and brushed down the creases in her kimono, making herself look more presentable as if she wasn't just brutally attacked by her own child. Kikyo was on the verge of death, but her greatest wish was being fulfilled-she couldn't be happier. The Zoldyck family was growing more powerful by the day. In strength, and now numbers. "He may go after Killua, but not right now. He is needed here. Tell him to come home immediately. He's late for his own wedding."

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING CHAPTER 5! I hope you all enjoyed it. Tell me what you thought :3 i may have gotten carried away writing Psyche's romance novel hahaha but it was fun and i regret nothing...and Ahhhh I know i said the wedding was going to happen in this chapter, but then stuff happened, so it's going to be delayed until the next chapter. I'm so sorry ;A; I really wanted it to happen but Psyche had to go take out a dude (not to dinner, that would have been worse-) bc work never ends for her, uh! the demanding life an of assassin :/ -lol Carrying on, Psyche gets a really eerie message coming from a dead guy, so that's not going to bode well for her *insert evil lenny face* ψ(｀∇ ´)ψ Also, I included the last scene, not only to only to give a nod to the chapter's title (They're BOTH late to the wedding haha) but also to give the time frame of the fic. It is currently taking place at the beginning of the anime :D

Thank you for the support and i hope you'll stay tuned for the next one! Bye for now :3