The Coming of The Storm

By MG Gailey

twin sisters are born with very special abilities and a unique relationship. both are seers, and can do things with their minds that no one else could do. but that’s far from the only way in which they are exceptional. they have another teeny, tiny little secret too...the two women share one body.
growing up in and out of small-town america, the sisters enlist to fight for their country and become part of an elite team of soldiers, serving as the tip of the spear in the war overseas. coming home, they are recruited to become a governmental assassin.
their latest assignment is different from all the others. it leads to questions about who they really work for and revelations about who they are and what they are up against.
as always was and always will be, an underlying, powerful, sinister, eternal force secretly plots the destruction of all life on the face of the planet...again. the twins were once told; “when there is a need, someone will come.” they didn’t know at the time that it would be them.
between a killer beginning and a stormy ending, lie pages filled with action, characters full of life, and very real emotions: love, lust, laughter, tears, fear, excitement, mystery...all that the mind’s eye can sense.

the storm is coming.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MG Gailey
• Release date: Jun 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311313232

Book preview

Book #1 in The Perfect Flame series

by M.G. Gailey

Smashwords edition, copyright 2014

Gailey, M. G.

The Coming of the Storm

© 2014, M.G. Gailey

Self publishing

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Introduction:

Twin sisters are born with very special abilities and a unique relationship. Both are Seers, and can do things with their minds that no one else could do. But that’s far from the only way in which they are exceptional. They have another teeny, tiny little secret too…the two women share one body.

Growing up in and out of small-town America, the sisters enlist to fight for their country and become part of an elite team of soldiers, serving as the tip of the spear in the war overseas. Coming home, they are recruited to become a governmental assassin.

Their latest assignment is different from all the others. It leads to questions about who they work for and revelations about who they are and what they are up against.

Underlying all of it; an unseen powerful, sinister, eternal force secretly plots the destruction of all life on the face of the planet…again.

The twins were once told; When there is a need, someone will come. They didn’t know at the time that it would be them.

Between a killer beginning and a stormy ending, lie pages filled with action, characters full of life, and very real emotions: love, lust, laughter, tears, fear, excitement, mystery…all that the mind’s eye can sense.

If this story gets a little scary in spots, just remember that it’s a work of fiction, and can only imitate reality…at least it’s reassuring to think of it that way. Much of life, after all, is an imitation of reality.

The Storm is coming.

Author

Hello, and welcome to my first published novel. After too long a career as a beaurocrat, I am now thankfully retired.

I could always write, but I could never write a book. Frankly I didn’t have the itch to write one, and certainly didn’t really know anything about how to do it. Clueless, is the word that comes to mind when I think of my youth.

A lifetime later, my children have moved out and I no longer slave to someone else’s clock. So now, I have the time and freedom to write. Even better, I have the urge. Often, in fact, it feels like a need. Yes, I have many urges and needs, but those are a different matter.

This book was written both for your enjoyment and my therapy. Creative expression is an exciting thing…and very angst-provoking as well, which is my snooty way of saying that it’s scary to bare one’s soul. Something that was inside me…and private; is now outside…and public.

The story I write here is fiction, but infused with the truth. Truth is in everything, everywhere, but often overlooked, a difficult thing to notice in the midst of all that life demands already. That, and truth is an individual thing, something that lies within each of us, and in many different ways.

The truth of Truth is that nothing…nothing is absolute, except in the context of the individual and that person’s relationships with their own beliefs, and sense of self and community, whatever those things might be. It’s tricky using printed words that don’t change, to represent concepts that are ever-changing.

This story is meant to entertain, and to enlighten as well. I have cast a spell upon my words so that they will invoke thoughts of your own making…of an experience…a memory…a thought, a hope, a dream….

A well-told story takes place inside the reader’s mind, not merely upon the paper it is printed. Although the words on the page are the indisputable stars of the show, they are but the medium for the message.

How droll, one might suggest, for the truth often is. Fortunately for you, any semblance of truth herein is well enough hidden in literary diversions such as excitement, emotion, action, and humor, so as to be rendered at least passably entertaining…although I, who am biased, think you will experience much more.

But that is up to you, dear friend. Read along with me now, and watch…sense…the Storm come in.

Acknowledgements

The first person I must first of all say Thank you to is my wife, Susan. It hasn’t always been easy for her. She is a doer…a mover….a traveler. And here she is married to a dope that just sits around and writes all day. I love you honey….honey?

I also want to thank JB McCombs twice; once for editing my book, and another time for saying he liked it. Friends may either lie or tell the truth and I would not judge them for it….such is friendship.

Then again, perhaps in his case, the truth was too terrible to tell me. The facts of the matter are often hard to spit out in the first place, let alone to express correctly.

I received great support in graphics, formatting, and patience from Katrina at: http://ebookcovers4u.wordpress.com

[e-mail] assisted me with computer issues.

And last but hardly least, I wish to acknowledge the stick-to-it-evness of anyone who has gotten this far in my very first book. I hope you enjoy it. May the story engage you and the characters seem real enough to sense…perhaps to touch….and possibly to linger.

The mind is a powerful thing; more so than anything except imagination can comprehend.

Chapter 1:The Gods Of Luck And Opportunity.

The gun broke down into four pieces, each fitting perfectly into its padded outline in the custom leather satchel that currently laid on the bed.

It was light, made of a titanium alloy; small enough to be easily concealed but large enough to have a solid feel to it. The textured, matte-gray surface gave off no reflection. A stock and a barrel each attached into the mechanism with an inaudible metallic precision. There was a second section of barrel that could be affixed for long shots. A noise diffuser was built into the barrel, muffling any sound.

All in all, it was a very efficient weapon. That is to say it was deadly.

*

Deep in thought, the Assassin mentally calculated: The time is near. The target will soon be going out for his evening jog. People fall into patterns in the living of their lives. That’s all well and good for most, but if you’re the hunted, predictability is not a good thing.

*

Who would want to know the moment of their own death? A slave to his calendar, Jonas was probably one of those who would have. But then punctuality was one of the habits that made him rich.

He had to be precise in his line of work. Mistakes could get him in trouble with the monetary regulators and that could get him jailed. No problem, Jonas always figured; if I make a mistake, my clients will kill me first.

Blissful are the ignorant. Unknowing of his imminent death, Jonas went about his life that last day as usual. A divorced man, he got up that morning to an empty house, ate a cold breakfast, and went to work in his underwear.

Work was through the door and into his home office. He could do what he had to do from anywhere; all he needed was a computer and the internet. I love technology, he reflected, settling into a desk chair and waking his computer. This beats the hell out of the cubes.

Ever since he started working at home, he had a ritual. He’d get a cold beer out of the refrigerator, always in a long-necked bottle, and take it with him to his desk the first thing in the morning.

Sitting down, he’d lean back in his chair and use an opener to pop off its cap, raise the bottle in a silent toast, to the Gods of Luck and Opportunity, and then put the bottle down on the desk and go to work. He’d never drink on the job but liked to flaunt that he could.

Switching gears for a minute, Jonas thought about my run later, after I’m was finished with work. He groaned; maybe I’ll skip it tonight. Then, he thought about how good that cold beer would taste after a hot run. That was one thing he loved about living in Amsterdam, the great beer.

Jonas ran every night. He’d jogged for much of his adult life, having run cross country in school. His standard joke when someone asked him why he ran was to tell them I love to feel the wind through my hair. He was bald. That one always got a laugh the first time.

He really ran because he enjoyed the freedom that he experienced when he ran. It feels like I could go anywhere, he thought every time. His runner’s high would kick in and he could forget about everything else for a while except the pace of his stride and the beat of his heart.

A bright enough man in money matters, Jonas never flaunted his intelligence. Nobody wants the person handling their money to be too smart, he figured. Discipline was his real strength, systematic in everything he did; his transactions, his record-keeping, his habits. He had to be disciplined, doing what he did.

He was never going to make it big in the financial world. Jonas didn’t have the mentors he needed, and there always seemed to be others who finagled and cheated their way to better deals and bigger promotions. Then, he met a man who asked him if he would like to make a little extra money. That’s a silly question, replied Jonas.

These must be completely private transactions, his new best friend emphasized.

That goes without saying, Jonas told him, the perfect response for what they were up to; the less said the better. It wasn’t like Jonas hadn’t ever done anything ‘privately’ before. But then, who hasn’t? It’s usually just a matter of degree, not intent.

Starting out, Jonas had no idea who he was working for. What difference does it make as long as I get paid? And the pay is outstanding. Now, I can live the kind of life I want to live…everything first-class.

By the time he found out he was laundering money for a terrorist organization called The Way, Jonas was in far too deep to back out even if he wanted to. He had a view of the park from his penthouse condominium and never saw what the money bought that he manipulated.

The Way was a group that had strong beliefs and a real dislike for foreign authority and intervention in their affairs. They really didn’t care for much of anybody outside the dominion of their narrow and strict opinions, which they wanted everybody else to adopt too, or else.

The zeal of the righteous and the mindset of warriors are as deadly a combination as there ever was…and an old one.

Manipulating the money through a maze of transactions was the easy part of the job for Jonas: Just create some accounts and move some money from one place to another…and to another… and to another. The trick was not in the doing so much as it was in the hiding of the doing. The world’s superpower was a super-snoop too, and was always watching.

They couldn’t go through the regular banking system; his clients were the kind of people that don’t just walk up to a teller and open an account. But there are ways to pull that sort of thing off if you’re careful and good. Jonas was lucky too and got the money to flow, from where it came from to where it was going.

There are ways to do anything. The funny thing is that most of it is legal. More accurately it’s tied up in legalities, which is the same thing, the whole truth buried in paperwork somewhere, just like the Ark of the Covenant. Things never stayed exactly the same. You just always had to stay one step ahead of the game. Hell, he figured, I’d prefer two steps and settle for any edge at all.

Greed always trumps careful sooner or later. He made big money facilitating the funding that was used for an operation that ended up killing a number of Americans. That’s exactly the sort of thing that brings you to people’s attention; the kind of people who have much different views of things than you do and aren’t afraid to use them.

Even if the Rule of Law can’t get you, the Code of the West still can. Justice is not bound by laws. We all pay for all our sins one way or another.

Chapter 2:Killing Is Never Easy, But It Should Be Simple.

The Assassin’s mind was at work, visualizing her thoughts: He’ll run down the street and into the park, where he’ll take the lake trail and circle back the way he came. He’s out for one hour, regular as clock work. Like the old folks say, she laughed to herself; regularity is nice. It does make things simpler. Killing is never easy, she mused; but it should be simple.

Cat had followed Jonas around for one week and knew him. A week of observation was nice because the routines that people fall into often follow a weekly pattern; that time period is imbedded into everybody.

So she’d come into town, locate the target, and follow him or her around; always in different places and at different times so she herself wouldn’t fall into habits. Once she figured out the routine, it was all over but the shouting so to speak; although the Assassin’s visits were usually quiet affairs.

Returning to her hotel room each day, Cat would relax and go over what she’d seen again, replaying everything in her mind, even the smells and sounds. Over the days, she would mentally walk through all the options and outcomes, the entries and exits, the opportunities and pratfalls.

As options clarified themselves, they were winnowed down into a plan. She’d visualize a final walk-through, then go out and physically walk it all the way through. If it was golf, she would have been walking the course. Coming back to her room, she’d visualize it all again.

*

When Cat arrived in the city, flying in tourist class, she already knew quite a bit about Jonas. The information that her employer provided to her ahead of time was thorough. Access to everything she needed was contained inside the usual packet that was delivered to her home. Now, it was all committed to memory.

She was never there when the brown manila envelope came. There was a hinged mail slot in her front door, with a lock box for it to drop into on the inside. The first time Cat came home and found one waiting for her, she wasn’t sure what to do with it, and just let it sit there while she thought about it.

"Pick it up," her twin sister Eliz prodded her telepathically. Eliz just happened to be there with her at the time. She was always around to give Cat advice…she always had been. The sisters were very close, and able to use their minds to send each other words, thoughts, and images; just one of their talents. "It won’t bite, little sister…at least I don’t think so."

Cat backed up a step. Don’t get pushy. I’ll get to it when I’m good and ready. She pretended poorly to forget all about the brown manila envelope. Sauntering casually over to her desk, she acted like was going to log onto her computer.

Eliz started counting slowly down in her mind: 10, 9, 8…

Fidgety, Cat got up from the computer and when to the refrigerator.

7, 6, 5…

Nothing looked good, so she just started fussing around the house.

4, 3, 2…

Cat picked up a magazine from the coffee table, but put it right down again. As soon as Cat started to do one thing, she’d stop that and start something else.

1.

I’m ready! Cat jumped up and got the envelope out of the lock box. She mixed up the combination twice and had to keep re-entering it. Anxious enough when she started, by the time she finally got the brown envelope out, she was ready rip the lock box right out of the door to get it.

"Well…?" Eliz wondered as Cat read.

"Well, it’s back to the war zone, of course. The target is a governmental military commander who has a night job as a terrorist commander. Politically, the military can’t touch him. It sounds like an Alpha Team Strike except for one small, hardly important at all detail."

"And that detail is...?" Eliz was not awaiting the information patiently. This was a moment she anxiously anticipated and dreaded at the same time. The thought of getting back out into the field and the action was thrilling. She was never eager to kill, although that was no problem for either sister, in the defense of their country. They’d dealt with all that in the war and always did what they had to.

It’s just us. We’re the whole team, that’s what; Team Assassin.

*

If our assignments are only delivered when we’re not here, that means we’re being monitored, Cat thought out loud. What else do they know?

Eliz smiled crookedly. "Well, whatever they know, I’d wager it’s no better than half of the truth. Besides we never do anything worth watching around

Speak for yourself, little sister, Cat replied with an air.

They were always arguing over who was the oldest sister and therefore the boss of them. It was never really clear which one of them came into this world first. But then, the two girls arrived inside the same body, so it would have been hard to tell that with any certainty, even if their parents had known that their beautiful new baby girl was actually twin sisters.

The truth be known, they were both pretty bossy. Typical sisters…in some ways, they were frequently fighting about something.

Eliz shrugged. At least nobody is watching inside. We’d have noticed that… wouldn’t we?

They looked at each other, then quickly started going over the whole apartment for bugs.

Finding nothing except some very large dust balls and a territorial Wolf Spider, they still went over the whole place carefully a dozen or so more times over the next few days.

Just because you don’t see something, doesn’t mean that it’s not there, a crusty old Special Ops Instructor told them once. It’s like love at first sight, if you don’t see it, look again.

Besides, they knew from first-hand use, that there was an amazing array of electronic sensors that came in all sizes and shapes. They found none and eventually concluded that they might be watching us come and go, but they weren’t watching us inside.

Good, Cat figured, tired of looking for something that wasn’t there; that I can live with. Nobody can avoid being watched at least sometimes in this day and age. Life is too short to sweat the small stuff.

Eliz raised her eyebrows. Yea well if you don’t sweat the small stuff, life will be short.

Cat rolled her green eyes. I’ve heard that one before. Thanks for the advice. Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.

"That’s what worries me."

That night before going to bed, Cat put trip wires on the doors and windows; "Just to get you off my back Chicken Little," she told Eliz…and just in case, she told herself. The trips would come down when she got up in the morning.

Not really intended to stop anybody, the wires would just make enough sound to wake her up, a light noise for a light sleeper. At that point, she reasoned, I’ll take my chances and they’ll take theirs." You’d have to have a really good reason to break into an Assassin’s home.

They got used to the situation not too long after that and quit booby-trapping the house. Besides, Cat got tired of tripping herself on the damn wires, being especially susceptible before her first cup of coffee in the morning.

They did keep a close watch on everything. It wasn’t so much that they were paranoid, although both of the sisters had wondered about each other from time to time. They just liked to keep some semblance of control for themselves in a world that was completely out of their control.

Hell, Cat figured; if you can’t distrust your employer, who can you distrust?

*

Every time Cat picked up one of the brown manila envelopes, she couldn’t help but think of the show she used to watch on television; where the instructions self-destructed in a puff of smoke, sacrificing themselves for the good of the cause. Hers didn’t explode, but she triple shredded it as soon as she memorized the code that was embedded within the otherwise mundane documents the envelope contained.

That code gave her access to the files she needed in her employer’s proprietary electronic archives, where she could do everything from research, to ordering supplies, to making arrangements for her field work. When you’re an Assassin working for the government, you can get pretty much whatever you want, even if you aren’t exactly a line item in the national budget.

In addition to the assignment’s goals and logistics, the information always included a brief narrative summarizing the who, what, where, when, and why of it all. There’s probably a good reason for everyone to die, the Assassin supposed; it’s all just all a matter of the words you use to justify it.

The people she killed all fell within the general category of enemies of America. Cat knew by hard experience that the world was a very dangerous place. There was a vast network of terrorists, militants, anarchists, and God knows what all, spread across the world; people who would absolutely not listen to reason and had to be dealt with by force.

There were bad people that had to be gone from this world. Maybe they will be more appreciated in the next. She was always proud to serve her country, but not always at complete ease about exactly what she did.

Chapter 3: Yes Thank You; I Had A Wonderful Time.

Some jobs are easier than others, even in the Assassination business. As things went, this was one of Cat’s cushier assignments. Amsterdam was one of her favorite cities, with all its old, well-maintained and colorful architecture and canals.

She loved to ride a bike alongside the canals, taking in the sights, and sounds, and smells of normal people living and working there. Sometimes when she did it, she dreamed of a different life for herself. In a new place I could be a new person, anyone I imagined myself to be.

In her younger days, Cat would have visited the local coffee houses, but those days were long gone. In her line of work, she had to always be sharp and couldn’t afford to cloud her mind with any drug. The occasional glass or two of wine was just fine, she always felt, for medicinal reasons of course.

Of course, Eliz always concurred. Some things the sisters actually agreed on.

To expand her mind these days, she meditated. Meditation takes various forms, being different things for different people. For her, it was a discipline…a way of life. She used it as a medium to focus my thoughts and energies, balance my body and my mind, and to visualize what I am going to do.

She found a spiritual side to it too. It wasn’t totally unexpected; she knew about the connection between meditation and Spirituality; many meditated for just that reason. Her revelation was its impact on her. Meditation, she found was always a personal experience, always different, often surprising. It grew her as a person, a human being…a creature of both mind and body.

The twin’s mother, and then their father, had made sure their young daughter attended Sunday school and church right afterward every week, but it never really took. The stories were fun until they became the same stories over and over again.

The world is an oyster full of pearls, and in her youth she dreamed of travel and adventure. She had to get older before she started looking for the most important things in life closer to home.

Although the sisters never took to religion, they were believers in a Universal Consciousness. If anyone ever asked, she said she was spiritual. But neither one was never really comfortable in calling herself that because it sounded so yuppie, so generic, not evoking the individuality of Faith. Each person has their own beliefs…and their own God.

But then when they meditated, they found Spirituality everywhere in the journeys where their mind took them. Sometimes the Spirit was close, sometimes distant. Either way it was there.

*

Both Cat and Eliz meditated often, sometimes in traditional yoga positions, sometimes while walking down the street, or sitting in a restaurant, or riding the bus. They were so natural about it in public places that no one would even notice what either was doing; that their mind was expanding beyond the reach of their body.

Some things only a child can see. Once, a young girl did see Cat meditate, when they were both sitting on a train, across the aisle from one another.

While still in her meditative state, Cat knew the girl is watching me. Her mind not only Traveled when she meditated, it was heightened to events going on around her. She saw no threat, but was intrigued that this little girl had seen her when no one else could. It was the only time anyone had discovered her little secret before or since.

"We shared some connection with her." Eliz was there too, of course, although no one else noticed more than the one of them. While one or the other of them controlled the body, the other tagged along in the flipside of their psyche.

You should know all about sharing connections, Cat grinned. You and I are the Mother of all connections.

*

Where and how far their minds Traveled when they meditated, depended on the need and opportunity at the moment. It’s hard to meditate in the middle of a gun fight, but they’d done it before. Much of their meditation took the form of visualizing, which was exactly what Cat was doing at that particular moment in time and space.

Sitting relaxed in a comfortable position and opening her psyche to all possibilities, she recounted her day, seeing detail that she missed even at the time. The scenes and their senses flashed past her inner eyes quickly.

The future spread out before her as Cat’s mind focused on the day’s events to come. Constructed on the foundation of what she had sensed up to that point, it was only the future she imagined, not the real one. Her eyes were good, but not that good; not yet anyway.

She knew that the true future is a complex thing that changes from instant to instant and can never be certain until it becomes the present, or understood until it’s the past.

No detail was left out as she pictured herself walking out of the door from her hotel room, first having made certain that no clues were left behind. I will not be returning.

Just another face in the crowd, I step onto the pedestrian walkway and stride to the platform in the middle of the street to wait for the tram, keeping a very careful watch for bikes and cars.

You can easily spot first-time American tourists in Amsterdam. Eliz was hardly ever quiet, when it was her turn to be inside their thoughts, and her sister had control of their body; but then Cat wasn’t either. They’re the ones who keep forgetting about the bike traffic and almost getting run down.

Yea, agreed Cat; never piss off a biker.

In her mind, Cat watches the tram roll up and stop in front of me…just like I knew it would, and I get on.

Sitting quietly in her room she envisioned the whole rest of her day, seeing it from different perspectives, replaying scenes with differing variables. She anticipated not just her steps, but Jonas’ too, and those of everyone else she expected to see over the course of the operation.

At last, she visualized getting on the plane to go back home after the assignment was carried out. Hello, she said to the stewardess who greeted her; yes, thank you I had a wonderful time.

*

Realigning her mind with her body, Cat made one final check of her equipment and she was ready. She’d done all this before and knew how to do it blindfolded, but didn’t let that familiarity build complacency. Every assignment was done right.

Closing the satchel with the gun inside, she prepared to leave the hotel room. There was no real chance of this room even being associated with what the Assassin was about to do, but she still wiped off the door knobs and other places where there might be fingerprints, and made sure that she’d left no hair on the bed or in the bathroom that could be used for DNA analysis. She hadn’t spent much time in the room anyway.

You didn’t last long in this line of work if you weren’t very careful. There wasn’t an Employee Hand Book to read over and be certain about it, but Cat was pretty sure that my employer didn’t like loose ends. Nobody likes getting caught…especially the government. She really knew they were serious about it when they told her what they expected of her if she ever got caught.

The Assassin always wore some kind of disguise when on assignment. Usually, it was something easy, like a wig or glasses. Always it was unpretentious. It was best to blend in. Today, it was a little make-up and a baseball hat that covered her short, light-brown hair.

Cat had striking green eyes, so she wore contacts of a less memorable color when she worked. For the time being, her eyes were hazel. She wore casual clothes and tennis shoes. Her brown outfit just happened to blend in well with the stone wall she would be standing behind when she took her shot.

First having made certain that no clues were left behind, the Assassin walked out the door of her hotel, just another face in the crowd. Stepping onto the pedestrian walkway and striding to the platform in the middle of the street to wait for the tram, she kept a very careful watch for bikes and cars.

Chapter 4:An Assassin Walked Purposefully Among Them.

It had been a nice day, warm and clear. As the afternoon turned to evening, some clouds had begun moving in. It might rain tonight, the Assassin thought as she stepped out into the day. Rain would be good, but not too soon. I don’t want any excuse for him not to jog. Plan B’s are always such a pain in the ass. If he didn’t show tonight for some reason, I’ll be back tomorrow night. This is his routine; he’ll be here eventually, and so will I. He isn’t getting out of it.

The tram station was a short walk from her hotel. It was good to start out with a little bit of cardio-vascular; it warmed the muscles and sharpened the mind. She didn’t hurry, taking one last chance to think about things as a tourist before flipping the switch to killer.

She switched into observational mode as soon as she left the room. Who’s around me? What are they doing? Did that car slow down? It was all just practice right now, getting into playing shape. But a keen sense of awareness was going to be important for real, and shortly.

People passed by with no inkling at all that an Assassin walked purposefully among them. To the locals that got on and off the tram, the day was routine. The sights of the city are different for the visitor than for the people who live there. Most people were coming home from work tired, ready to sit down with a drinky-poo before supper.

Never staring, she liked to look at peoples’ faces as she traveled. Their faces told her a lot about them, especially the eyes, windows are not just windows to the soul but also to the mind for those with Sight, like her.

Everywhere she went, one of the things that struck her about people was how different each and every one of them was. It took her only a glance to see, that there is every kind of person in this world and every sort of thought.

Her destination was a forty-five minute ride and twelve stops away, but that was fine; she liked to get a feel of the city and the people that lived there and there was no better way for that than to ride public transportation. For a minimal fee, you could ride a bus, tram, or subway everywhere the lines went, getting to see, and hear, smell, taste, and touch the working city, not just the tourist areas.

More than once in her travels around a city, she was the last person on the outward tram, riding it to the end of the line. At each end, the track circled around so that the engine could swing right around and be ready to go back again; coming and going all day.

The arriving tram would stop for a while, and the conductor go into a small building, perhaps to take a break, maybe have a smoke and a cup of coffee. If a second tram was waiting to start the inward journey, she would have to switch cars.

At such times, she imagined that the conductor looked at me and thought me a stupid lost tourist. She didn’t have sense enough to get off at her stop, he would laugh. Looks can be so deceiving; sometimes on purpose, sometimes not.

*

When on assignment, the Assassin didn’t generally just come into town, complete her job, and leave. What she liked to do, was to take in the sights…to be just another tourist. An Assassin’s Vacation, she thought of it.

The old architecture of a city interested her greatly. Cat would roam the city streets for hours, exploring old stone churches with towering ceilings and walking past homes that conjured visions of a different era and culture.

Many an hour was spent too, sitting at an open air table alongside a busy street, drinking strong black coffee or dry red wine, and watching the people flow by. Even if it wasn’t a particularly sunny day, she would have her sun glasses on.

People-watching in Europe is a whole lot different than in America, she observed. Here it’s a common past time, back home it just makes people suspicious.

Food was an important component of an Assassin’s Vacation, at least this one. She wasn’t a large person, only average in height and weight, but she could eat like one. Cat generally didn’t eat that much in any one sitting, but she ate constantly throughout the day.

Never meeting a street vendor she didn’t like, it was simple pleasure exploring the back streets for the cafes and restaurants that the locals went to. If it weren’t that she exercised religiously, she’d have to buy a whole new wardrobe.

She had a dream that recurred from time to time: I was a different person and didn’t have any assignments. I just took vacations. That never seemed to really happen, but it was a nice dream.

Some time or other, of course, the Assassin had to attend to her work. As tempting as it was to simply get lost in the crowds, she never forgot what she was there for. Good Assassins have a sense of responsibility. The twins were both all about responsibility, one of those enduring reminders of their father.

One of the other little voices in her head, the one that sounded suspiciously like her father would always get her back on the track that was going in the right direction; "Do what you’re supposed to do whether you want to or not. It’s your responsibility…your reputation. That’s something that you either have, or you have to live with, all your life."

If dad only knew how his good advice was being used, the Assassin smiled thinly. Assassins have a sense of humor just like everybody else. Well not quite.

Chapter 5:She Sensed Something Primeval.

Just how in the world do people get to where they get to? For Cat, a lot of what she was today could be traced to her yesterdays in the war. She had enlisted in the military, ready to fight for her country, and to get the hell out of the small, dead-end town where she grew up. It was a place that didn’t fit me anymore, and had memories I want to forget for now. I’ll remember later at the reunion.

The new soldier turned out to be quite a shot, and was channeled into sniper training. More successes turned into a transfer into Special Operations. It was not an easy route. The Trainers were demanding beyond reason, and the conditions into which they thrust you, ready or not, were harsh and dangerous.

She ended up as part of a small, very special team of soldiers, trained together as a lethal unit and then sent to war to turn practice into the real thing. Gung ho through it all, Cat had looked forward to getting into the action. Then, one very hot, dry, sunny day it happened.

*

Alpha Team was comprised of six soldiers, each of whom went by a code name. Nobody had to use a nick name, but everybody did, so Cat fit right in. Solo was Team Leader. When he said move, you moved. He was the head, everyone else the limbs. Peace, Duke, Raven, and Griz rounded out the crew; a somewhat motley but utterly deadly little group of warriors.

Alpha Team had been transported to a house in the outskirts of the city. They were after a man who served as an enemy operative. Intercepted cell phone calls indicated that something big was going to come down very soon.

The entry was smooth enough, but things didn’t go completely according to plan after that. A woman in a burqa turned out not to be a woman. He pulled a gun from under his dress and fired at Solo, who had been the first Alpha in, the price of leadership.

Solo learned first-hand the value of a good bullet proof vest that day, and he carried the bruise to prove it for another month. The shot knocked him down and the female impersonator pointed the gun for another shot, this time to the head.

It would have served me right, Solo joked nervously later, for being a gentleman in the first place.

Before the terrorist could get the second shot off, Peace came through the door gun blazing and shot him dead. He put an extra shot into his head just to be sure, and because he appreciated irony.

Cat had never seen such a wild look on Peace’s face before, as he had just then, when he was shooting the man down. She sensed something primeval.

*

"Shooty-shoot him againy-again! Shooty-shoot him againy-again!" the invisible Watcher Demon screamed noiselessly into Peace’s ear, more subliminal suggestion than vocal expression.

An agent of the Demon King, the Watcher is always ready to prey on the weak, or the unwary, or the unlucky. Reason makes no matter in the end; what’s done is simply done. Very prompt when summoned by conflict, or anger, or strife; It is always there without fail anytime a living soul can be tempted, or frightened, or becomes vulnerable in any way, shape, or form to be collected for the King.

There is an eternal struggle for every soul. Poor prize that some might seem to be, each is a cosmic jewel to the One King and a coveted possession to the Demon.

The Demon King is brother and arch-enemy of the One King, the Creator Who rules over all; the Earth, the sky, the moon and stars, thought and imagination…all dimensions and realms and all their Gods and Goddesses.

The Demon eternally plots the One’s destruction and my own rise to power, and control, and triumph. Once I have more souls than that back-stabbing, self-righteous sibling of mine, he connived, I will rule.

Many-many bargainy-bargain with me-me in the throesy-throes of dyingy-dying, the Watcher sniggered to Itself. Demons are always sniggering to themselves.

"The dyingy-dying will agree-agree to anythingy-anything for oney-one more breathy-breath. But-but the livingy-living selly-sell their soulsy-souls too-too…for whaty-what they desirey-desire mosty-most of all, morey-more than anythingy-anything elsey-else."

"The livingy-living soulless can-can still breathey-breathe and go-go through the motionsy-motions of lifey-life, but-but their Free Willy-Will is losty-lost to them forevery-forever, and wheny-when they die-die, they go-go straighty-straight to Helly-Hell, hand basket optionaly-optional."

The Demony-Demon King’s termy-terms are always simpley-simple; ity-it’s the damny-damn people whoy-who always complicatey-complicate things.

*

Cat had slipped into the room just behind Peace, the action happening right in front of her. It was over before she had to fire. Not yet having shot at anyone, she wondered what will it be like. Can I do it?

For all the noise it made at the time, the fight happened quickly and was over like that. Powered by the adrenalin of a fight for survival, chaos started and ended in a heartbeat. Any single heartbeat might be your last when the guns start to shoot. Afterwards, there was a pregnant pause in the action that seemed to last forever.

It’s over, thought Cat…hoped Cat. But in war, it’s never over. That’s just one of the lessons for a soldier to learn before it’s too late.

Suddenly, a man with a long beard and wild eyes barged into the room behind Peace. The Arab held a rifle straight out in front of him. His face was a mask of anger.

Later, Cat wasn’t exactly certain if I reacted to the movement or to the gun. Either way, she shot him without hesitation, before he could pull his own triggers. He fell to the ground, his body hitting with a thump, his guns with a clank. The room was silent again; deathly silent.

The Watcher enjoyed Itself. No-no soulsy-souls today darny-darn ity-it, but-but I-I think we-we have somey-some potentialy-potential here, It connived; somey-some interesting peopley-people to keep tabsy-tabs on.

Cat was stunned. Knowing she did exactly the right thing, it was still so much more difficult to accept the fact that she’d killed another human being than she ever imagined it would be. It certainly didn’t make her feel victorious. All of a sudden her mind reeled and she wasn’t too sure of herself, of what she had done, or why. She felt confused.

"It’s OK, you did what you had to do," Eliz reassured her. We did what we had to do. She had lots of experience at encouraging her sister…they both did.

*

Solo moved to the door Let’s get out of here, he said with conviction, and motioned for them to follow; Now.

Things were moving too fast for Cat. Griz took her arm and guided her out. Once outside in the open air, her head cleared up, and she followed Solo back to base with the rest of Alpha Team.

Solo pulled her aside when they got back to base. You OK? he wondered. It looked like you kind of zoned out there for a minute?

Yea, she looked him straight in the eyes; I’m good.

We’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.

I noticed. But really, I’m good now, she fibbed. I just needed a little time.

Sure, he said as he turned to leave and give her the privacy she needed right now, but then stopped before he went out the door. I threw up after my first kill. It takes time; but don’t take too long. They could put us back out there at any minute, and we all have to be ready.

She raised an eyebrow. If you tell me that a chain’s only as strong as its weakest link now, I’ll punch you.

She was serious and he knew it. He liked it. A little attitude was exactly what he was looking for as Team leader. It meant she was OK.

Under different circumstances, he would have wanted to be something else to her. It was impossible for him to not see how beautiful her green eyes were. They were made to be lost in. But he couldn’t afford that in the here and now. Maybe if we get out of here alive, he fantasized.

*

When she got back to her living quarters, Cat started stripping her clothes off as soon as she closed the door behind her. A trail of discards led the way to the shower, where she stood under a steaming flow of hot water until it got cold; then she stood there a lot longer.

Guilty-guilt draws a Watcher like a fly to honey, perhaps providing the opportunity-opportunity to stealy-steal a human souly-soul or at leasty-least weakeny-weaken ity-it for latery-later. The shark knows that bloodied prey tires.

You-you killed a many-man, It whispered in her mind. You-you didn’t havey-have to shooty-shoot him. You-you took a humany-human lifey-life. It’s youry-your faulty-fault he’s deady-dead, you-you murderery-murderer you-you. Guilt knows no mercy.

*

If you want to have a good cry, the shower’s a place to do it; a little wet fits right in. Cat ran out of tears about the same time she ran out of hot water. The cold water shocked her shocked system back closer to rhythm.

Mentally focusing on the water cascading over my body, she saw a stream of liquid come out of each individual hole in the shower head. They quickly broke apart into rain drops, splashing against her skin in slow motion, forming back jets and crown formations where they landed. Water dripped from her hair.

He had a gun. Eliz was the voice of reason. He was going to kill us all. You did the only thing you could, and it just so happens that it was the right thing.

Cat knew her sister was right, but being right isn’t always all that reassuring. It was not just the killing that day that bothered her. Something had surfaced in her mind when she shot that man to the floor. It triggered memories of the deaths she’d already experienced in the short course of her life, and the overall burden of loss struck her…the feeling that life is so precious and so fleeting.

With the water pouring over her from out of the showerhead, she thought about what she had done that day and about what she hadn’t done all her life. There’s nothing like a close-up and personal kill to get you to understand what killing is all about; and life too. She wished I was more like my namesake; cats certainly have no compulsion against killing.

Part of her problem was that she felt like an invader in a strange land and understood; if I lived here, I’d be fighting the interlopers too. But this is different damn it! We’re only here after the bad guys and we’re here to help; if they only understood that.

At least I didn’t get buck fever, she reflected. Some soldiers couldn’t pull the trigger. That either got them or their buddies killed, or both. You certainly can’t have that. Sorry, but if it’s me or you, it’s going to be you.

*

All back together again, Cat toweled off and then lay back on her bed, still naked, facing straight up. She spread her arms and legs out into the rectangular position of Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, perfectly balanced.

She had her own room, each of the members of Alpha Team did, a perk for all the special assignments that were routine for them. It was small and Spartan; nothing like the ones that the officers’ had, but better than the barracks most of the other soldiers lived in. It was a haven where she could find herself some of the private time she needed, away from the chaos of the war.

There was a spider standing upside down on the ceiling above her. I don’t know what a spider might see or how it perceived the world, she mused; but it’s aware of me, that much I do know.

Her eyes focused on the arachnid; then she magnified it mentally, looking closely at its hairy jointed legs, and the way it clung to the ceiling. At that small size, the flat ceiling was a scrabble of texture to which the spider had no trouble attaching. Upside down is right side up if you’re a spider, she mused.

In her mind’s eye, she visualized the spider’s fangs, where the guts of their prey could be sucked out. Terrors to the tiny…I’m glad I’m not tiny. Cat wasn’t afraid of spiders, or much of anything else for all that matter. For the most part, she figured; they have more to fear from me than I do from them.

A white silken thread started to issue from a spot on the spider’s abdomen. Attaching one end to the ceiling, the spider began to drop down. There was a fan on in the room and the spider swayed ever so slightly at the end of its gossamer tether, in the light breeze that was created by the rotating blades.

Noises easily filtered into her room through thin walls, but Cat blocked them all out. She listened only within herself, where everything of all the worlds was there for her to discover and explore.

The spider came to rest on Cat’s arm, a meeting of alien life forms. She felt it look her over… Perhaps thinking how many meals she could make of me, Cat laughed silently.

Eight legs began stepping in spider rhythm down her bare arm, tickling her. In another minute the spider had walked across the bed like a moon walker and disappeared over the side. Cat visualized it climbing down to the floor and scurrying across the room to go home to its nest. When she focused, it was like she was there with the spider, though her body never moved.

And life goes on, she realized for the umpteenth time. It’s one of those things that we all know but have to be continually reminded of.