~ Blow Burgundy (Chloë and Alec)
Good morning guys! Im a little late on My Flash Fiction Friday (fell asleep whaaa!) but here ya go!!
- My take on the prompt is with Alec and Chloë from my mafia world/thingy/non-wip and this here is all about atmosphere and assassination.
(Warns: oh and no warnings! Pg13 or whatev’)
The shadows on the ceiling flee like ghosts as the headlights from cars glide up through the tall, narrow windows.
You would think it was Alec and I who has set them running, but it’s only the slow traffic, down on Main Street.
Red lights all the way to the harbor and back, taxis honk, people shreech in drunken laughter, engines roar back to life as the lights flick to green.
But the sound hardly penetrate the gloomy sitting room.
Here the only true sound is my heels that goes against the detailed wooden floor as I cross the room and the piched middle of Puccini’s opera. I am making sure we’re alone.
I look behind the shiny black piano, I check under the velvet chaise. No one hiding behind the polished mahogany bar either. It’s clear.
Alec qietly closes the giant door by its ornamented gold handle.
We leave the lights off. No one should know that we’re here.
“The Ambassador has the Helve Stones.” I am tipping out books in the bookcase, looking for the best one to plant the little paper packet of red magical dust in. “We make the hit at exactly two hours.” I pull out Ulysses by its fat spine and open up at the middle.
Alec wanders restlessly about. He is in a dark suit. I’ve never seen him in a suit before and it makes him look sharp. And good. The edges of his rude face, the jaw, goes against the cut of the crisp white collar like glass against glass. Slightly painful, but perfect.
I’m not telling him that though.
I flatten the packet, the size of a quarter, on the page and snap the book shut. The tiny dosage will blow the theater to smithereens once I make the trigger spell in the circle I’ve chalked up in the ally, on the other side of Main Street.
“Two hours? Why the fuck are we so early?” Alec is going through the drawers, jabbing at the contents with undisclosed annoyance at the lack of valuables.
“To be safe.” I push the book back and check there’s no marks in the dust to give my meddling away.
“You call blasting a crater in Mid-town safe.” He snorts a crude laugh.
“If the Helve Stones leave this theater, there will be another hole to plug for us. Demons like new doors.” I lean against the window frame, keeping to the shadows, and look down at the traffic. I imagine the cloud of dust and the screams that are about to fill the street. It makes my eye twitch.
“People do too. Did you ever question why Frazer wants us to get the stones before we make our marks?” Alec sneers. I look over and our eyes lock. Both of our stares black with a prick of light. Both coal compressed into unbreakable gems by the crushing pressure.
“To destroy them.” I say but my words are not nearly as strong as I want them to be because I did question it. I did wonder what happened to all that hell magic, all those little burgundy-tinted stones, that I had gathered over the years; but I had never asked The House.
Alec laughs and walks over to me.
“Because pulverizing them wouldn’t do the job?” His dress-shoes scuff the floor, his chin is inclined up. There’s that dangerous feel to him, the air vibrates with a chilled promise of a detonation. Maybe more devastating that the one I’ve planted.
“We have to make sure none of them falls into the wrong hands.”
“Well well, such a good House Pet.” Alec gets in my face with a grin. “Are you calling our hands ‘the right ones’ then?”
