Zariah jumped out of the black, Victorian carriage, her hair getting wet by the heavy, pouring rain and her combat boots getting dirty by the thick mud surrounding her feet. She shifted her green, cat-like eyes, looking at the filthy place she was in. The carriage she traveled in was long gone; the driver didn’t want to be there, neither did she, but she was there for a reason. The rain fell hard, each drop that fell on her head felt like it was trying to drill a hole into her skull. She looked at the full moon in the dark sky, and saw the dense clouds trying to conceal it. She sneered and began walking towards the pub that wasn’t far from where she stood. The bastard driver didn’t want to go as far as the first dirt road in the village, so she had to walk. She could have easily made him drop her off, but she decided to spare his life.

There were several people outside their homes looking at Zariah with fear in their eyes and on their faces. She loved it all; the thought of bringing fear to someone made her feel powerful. Some ran into their brick houses and huts, not coming out until she passed them by. Some, she looked in their eyes, invoking more fear into them until they started trembling and wept in the streets. Even the animals, the occasional porky pigs and feathery chickens, seemed frightened by her: the pigs squealed loudly and ran in the opposite direction while the chickens flapped their wings forcefully, feathers flying astray; it was such a misfortune that they weren’t given the gift of flight. Zariah smiled to herself and pushed open the heavy doors of the pub.

The pub was dark and foul, with only a few lights hanging from the ceiling, casting a dim glow every five feet. The place seemed like the perfect spot to get beat, murdered, or robbed and just as she expected, there were men everywhere. Most were drinking their rum and having needless conversation while others were flirting with the waiter girls. Zariah scanned the room, looking at the various, scuffed, and carved faces. They all seemed as if they were guilty of a crime, committing some kind of wickedness to their little village. She saw a man sitting in a corner, with a candle holder sitting on the table, and the light glowing softly and flickering with the wind. Without hesitating, she walked over towards him, her boots thudding on the floor with each urgent step that she took. Zariah snagged many eyes as she made her long walk across the pub. Those eyes were too drunk to notice who she was. The bartender, in his drunken stupor, made a grab for her arm, but with unsuccessful aim, his own arm fell helplessly to his side. She rolled her eyes and walked towards the man sitting in the corner with the brown, rugged coat.

She pulled up a chair, turned it around, and sat with her front facing the chair’s back. She folded her arms across her chest, and stared in the man’s eyes waiting for him to tell her exactly why she was there in the first place.

"Zariah Hunter, it’s nice to see you," he said, lifting his heavy beer glass to his lips and taking a sip. He wiped the foam from his mustache, using his sleeve, and brought the glass back down on the wooden, circular table.

"What do you want?" she questioned him, her voice cold like ice. She didn’t like the fact that she was called to come to this place. She turned her gaze to the other men and weren’t surprised to see half of them watching her. She rolled her eyes and turned back towards him.

"Tsk tsk tsk, why so mean today? What have I done to you?" he smirked. He tried to gain an advantage in their conversation and seem as if he was the person in charge. Zariah sensed that.

"So I see you know my name. That’s good...I suppose." She simply stated, staring into the man’s brown eyes with her green ones. He didn’t seem fazed by her at all. That brought curiosity her way.

"Everyone knows your name. You’re the best of the best. That’s why I called for you. I hope you don’t mind the scenery," he said, referring to the pub that they were in. She grinned and reached across the small table, grabbing his glass and taking a drink herself. She downed his drink in an instant, and wiped her mouth, just like he did.

"Victorian’s Amber Beer." She looked at the glass, identifying the contents that were once in it; her finger traced the rim of the glass as she rotated it in her hands. She took her eyes from it, and back towards the man. He smiled, showing her his toothy, twisted grin. She scrunched her face and set the glass down in front of her.

"So, what do you want? You still haven’t told me," she folded her arms across her chest again. His eyes lit up, as if forgetting, and he leaned in closer towards her, almost as if he didn’t want anyone to hear their conversation.

"I need you to do me a big favor." His musky breath hit her lips.

"...and that would be...?"

"I need you to rid me of a problem." He whispered. His eyes showed that he was serious.

"And what’s the problem?" she asked, talking in her normal tone, not whispering like she knew he wanted her to do.

"There’s this guy, actually. Name’s Christian Belvedore. Lives in Transylvania with his lovely wife Samantha in the Balvonte Castle atop Balvonte Hill. He owns the castle, along with Samantha, and their eight year old son, Tristan. I need you to...erase Christian from history." He didn’t sound the least sympathetic. She raised her eyebrows and moved back slightly.

"Why? Is he a threat?" She asked, wanting to pry information from him. There had to be more to Christian than he was telling her. Why would someone just want to kill a man without reason behind it?

"Don’t ask me any questions. I just want him dead."

"Not until you tell me why." She spoke and looked through his eyes. He was going to tell her; she knew that part already, but she didn’t know when.

"No wonder they said you’re so hard to get along with. But I need someone who can do the dirty deed for me, and I know you can." He tried to complement her, trying to make her forget about her question, but it didn’t work.

"Good try, but not good enough. Exactly why do you want him killed? Do you want to get with his precious wife? Have their mansion to yourself? Own his money and property?" she questioned him.

"I don’t want anything belonging to him. I just want him killed, plain and simple! Now, can you do that for me?" his voice got louder, as his anger raised up slightly. She smirked, loving the fact that she could change his whole demeanor with only a few words.

"Ok, I’ll kill him, but for the right price." She put her elbows on the table, with her fist underneath her chin, only a couple inches away from him.

"What do you have in mind?"He questioned. She smiled.

"Well, what do you have?" she questioned back.The man shook his coat pocket and Zariah heard the coins clinking against one another. There had to be nearly 400 zentos in his pocket, she estimated, judging by the tone the coins made.

She smirked and stood up.

"Give me a day and a time." She commanded him.

"Saturday, before midnight. Kill him, and don’t leave behind any evidence." She shook her head, taking in everything he said and memorizing it to herself while walking out the pub, returning back to the dark, stormy night.

"Saturday, before midnight. Kill him, and don’t leave behind any evidence..."

"Zariah, quick, read this," Zariah’s assistant, Travis spoke. He sat in the leather chair, in front of the desk with their desktop computer on it. Zariah stood up and walked towards him, telling by the tone in his voice that it was something important. She bent down, with her face to the side of his, and read the information that she told him to find for her.

"Christian Belvedore. Age 39. Lives with wife, Samantha Belvedore and Tristan Belvedore." She read aloud, scanning the page for information that she didn’t know, but possibly needed to know. She sighed when she didn’t find anything about him that she wanted.

"So, what do you think about this guy?" Travis asked, leaning in the chair and looking in Zariah’s green eyes. Zariah walked in front of the wooden desk, and sat on it, crossing one leg over the other. Her back was to him when she spoke.

"I’m not sure. He doesn’t seem suspicious to me. Just a regular, rich husband with a family." She brought the nail of her thumb in her mouth, and chewed at it. She spat the nail out on the floor, and flung herself on her two feet. She began walking out their study room, but stopped.

"Print out those papers so I can study those further. Tomorrow, we have to leave first thing in the morning. Tell everyone we’re going to Transylvania," she ordered him, and walked out the door, letting it slowly close behind her. Travis grinned, attracted at how she always controlled him and told him what to do. He loved her bossiness.

"Will do," he murmured under his breath, and got to work.





"All aboard! Leaving port Svetland to port Transylvania!" the conductor shouted, with his lantern glowing on his blue suit and black buttons. A crowd of people rushed towards the train, going in the different entrances it had, and settling down, finding themselves a seat. Zariah walked towards the train, with Travis right behind her, carrying all of their bags. She had enough strength to carry them, but she decided to give him a nice workout. They were the last ones to get on board, and she made sure the conductor didn’t try to leave them behind. One look in her eye, and the conductor knew she meant business, so he decided to leave her be instead of arguing with her.

"Put the bags up Travis, and give me his paper work," Zariah told him, and he obeyed. They sat down in their seats just as the train started to pull off, slowly slithering along its track that led to Transylvania, their destination. She was in a seat facing Travis, and he was in a seat facing her, so he handed her the papers, his arms outstretching across his knees. She grabbed them and began reading more about her victim. She flipped through the pages about him and stopped, gazing at his portrait. He wasn’t half bad actually. An attractive, 39 year old male, with a chiseled face, and broad features. His eyes were keen and his nose was pointed, almost like a hawk’s beak. He demanded attention, Zariah could tell. His blonde, brown hair was tied in a tight ponytail, which made his eyebrows raise even higher than ususal. Zariah smiled, and found herself almost adoring his picture.

"You like what you see, huh?" Travis asked, looking at her with narrowed eyes. He didn’t like the fact that she was admiring his picture. Zariah lifted her eyes.

"You know, he isn’t half bad." She grinned and rested her head on the back of the seat. She continued reading his information, with her foot on Travis’ lap, and Travis, looking out the window, at the dark night. She stopped reading when someone tried sitting in the empty spot next to her. She groaned, and faced them, so they could see her angered face. They didn’t pay her any mind. Travis smirked, looking at the fool brave enough to sit next to Zariah.

"Hey, this seat is taken." Zariah said getting an attitude. The person acted as if they didn’t hear her, but turned around when he finally got himself situated. Zariah grinned, identifying this person.

"So, if it isn’t you again. What are you doing? Following me? Do I have my own personal stalker?" she questioned the man. He turned around, nodding his head towards Travis, acknowledging his presence, and gave Zariah that same toothy grin she saw just the previous day.

"I do have to make sure you do your job how I want it. Don’t I?" he quizzed. She threw the papers she was reading in his lap, and he picked it up.

"And this is..." he questioned, not paying mind to read it himself or take one glance at it.

"Well if you would look down at the papers, I think you might know," she said. She folded her arms across her chest, and rested her foot back on Travis’ lap. The man sneered and skimmed through the pages, stopping at the same page Zariah caught her breath at.

"This is definitely him." He continued flipping the pages and stopped at the two pictures displaying Samantha and Travis. He licked his dried lips.
"She’s a beauty." Zariah turned her head towards the man, and raised her eyebrows.

"I know I’m not killing him just because you want his wife," she stated. Travis looked at the man who Zariah was doing a favor for.
Something about him, he didn’t like. It could be his appearance, his smell, his accent, his eyes, or just how he talked, but Travis didn’t like it. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him. It could simply be that he felt as if this man was competition for him.

"No, no, no. Of course you aren’t," he smirked and gave the papers back to her. She snatched them from him, and sat them on the other side of her.

"So then, why do you want him dead?" she asked. The man reached under the seat, grabbed one of his bags, and inside, pulled out a yellow envelop. He opened it up, revealing his own research on Christian Belvedore.

"Read this," he extended it out for her, and she took it in her hands, reading it. Travis sat across from them, curious as to what the paper said.

"Roger Smith, age 39. Convicted of treachery in more than one count. Killed Solace, age 28, occupation, miner." Zariah read aloud so her assistant could hear. He fed in all the information he was being told, and stored it in the back of his mind. "Hmmm, treachery?" She looked at the man, who’s name she didn’t know. "Treachery against who?" she asked. He smiled, glad that she asked him that question.

"Treachery against his own kind." He stated, emphasizing a word that brought confusion to both Travis and Zariah.

"His own kind?" she questioned him. He nodded his head, at her question.

"So he isn’t going to be easy to take down, huh?" Travis asked, almost seeming as if he were an eavesdropper in their conversation. Zariah turned to him, and she felt what he was feeling.

"I hope you brought the necessary materials. I wonder if we could borrow some from the Sector," Zariah said aloud, talking to Travis, then thinking to herself.

"He won’t be easy, I know that. So you need to play the role to gain his trust. Make any sudden statements, do any suspicious actions, and you can call it quits." The man said. Zariah raised her eyebrow and turned towards him.

"What do you mean?"

"He’s looking for someone. Someone to tend his home. A..." he was interrupted.

"Maid?" Travis interrupted him, asking that simple question.

"Yes, he’s in need of someone to help around his home. It is too large for the three of them to.." Zariah interrupted him this time.

"I didn’t agree to become a maid!" she yelled, casting the curious eyes of all the passengers on the train her way. Travis shook his head from side to side, with a smile on his face. She always never knew how to keep her voice down. But that was another attractive feature of hers.

"But there is no other way," he started. "If you don’t agree to this, not only will you not get your bounty, but you and other’s like you will perish," he stated in a way that showed no other option but to kill the man. Zariah turned her head Travis’ way, seeing him in deep thought. He was the brains, he should know what to do. After a quick moment, Travis looked at Zariah, and shook his head ‘no.’

"Ok, I’ll do it. But just know..." she sharpened her eyes, leaning closer towards him, staring him right in his brown eyes. She could smell his unpleasant odor tingling her nose. He showed her his twisted grin, interrupting her, obviously knowing what she was about to say.

"Don’t worry. I’ve already thought of that. I’ll pay you double. Just do your job, and you’ll get your money." Zariah grinned with him, liking the arrangements that just had been settled. She looked towards Travis, seeing him nod his head in agreement to the deal they just made.

"Just kill him on Saturday, before midnight, and make sure you dispose of all the evidence." Zariah shook her head, understanding, and watched as the man gathered all of his things, shoved them back inside his bag, and walked off. Zariah followed him with her eyes, and when he was finally out of sight, she turned towards her assistant, who was watching her with his own eyes.

"So, why do you think this man would kill his own kind?" Travis quizzed Zariah, as he made sure the man was out of ear shot. She looked out the window, seeing the moon reflecting from the lake they were traveling over. She looked back towards Travis.

"There could be many reasons why. We just have to get to the bottom of this, don’t we?" she smirked, fixing her glare on Travis. He grinned.

"You’re right. But you do know that you have to wear white instead of black now?" Travis leaned back, bringing up a subject that made her unconsciously growl. She hated white.

"Travis..." she started, looking back out the window. He turned his stare towards her. He was ready for whatever she was about to say. He knew her technique, her cunning, her style of verbal attack.

"Remind me. Once I kill this guy...," she finally turned towards him, just as the train darted inside a low, brick tunnel, causing the whole train to appear pitch black. Zariah’s eyes suddenly appeared to glow a bright green. "... you’re next." Travis smirked. He just loved it all.

From: BeautifullyMe_Lele

Sent: 6/17/2008 8:05 PM

First you have this story very detailed[I could imagine this whole thing in my head] Secondly, can you teach me how to write a GOOD story lol. Third, this is good. Fourth, what is Zariah suppose to be a killer or something?

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