Until The End

At a distance, the clock tower sang and its rumblings wove through the dusk darkened city. The rats skittered through cobbled footpaths, carriages made their way back to the homes of the wealthier London townsfolk, and stars glimmered in the River Thames, their reflection ethereal in the fading light. And somewhere, under the rose and gold dappled sky, was a killer, preparing for what the night would surely bring.

Kal Mason knew she was supposed to be playing her part as the perfect, poised lady. She just didn’t care. Her escort was late, and her corset was too tight. Not to mention that every time she tapped her feet in impatience, the tight-fitting heels bit into her ankles painfully. Kal sighed. Oh, well. The view more than made up for it. All five levels of the Buckingham Palace was decked up in a splendid manner. Ladies in wine-colored gowns, handmaidens bustling about in dresses the hue of spring, and men in dashing tuxedos milled about the courtyard. Her carriage stopped gracefully at the elegant arch of the entrance and one of the palace servants rushed to open the door. She took his offered hand gratefully and lowered herself onto the freshly-mown grass, hoping she wouldn’t trip on her feet, and stooped a little to pat down her skirts. When she looked up again, she could feel heads turn. She smiled. She did look radiant, after all.

But her half-smile quickly faded into a frown as she realized that Jem still wasn’t here, and walking into the ballroom without an escort was rather outlandish. But she was nothing if not a little unconventional. So she climbed up the steps with her skirts clenched in her palms and threw open the doors to the ballroom.

Almost immediately, the overpowering scents of cologne and perfume assaulted her. The ballroom was a hive of activity, with waiters carrying platters of meat and goblets of sweet-smelling wine, and couples waltzing away to music from violinists and pianists. Kal let out a sigh and waved away her irritation. If Jem insisted on being late to each of their missions, it was his problem, not hers. She might as well get some work done.

She wandered aimlessly, weaving through the throngs of people dancing like there was no tomorrow. Accepting a glass of pearly white liquid from an insistent waiter, she walked towards the right-wing to where the refreshment tables were supposed to be if her employer’s floor plan of the ballroom was to be believed. Kal strode purposefully towards the tables, her gown trailing behind her, pushing through the crowd, her drink teetering dangerously in her hand until…Oof!

She barreled heavily onto a young man, causing his drink to crash onto the tiled floor and her own to spill its contents across his vest. She gaped for a moment and composed herself.

“How clumsy of me!” she exclaimed dramatically, hiding a smile. She held out a handkerchief and attempted to wipe the liquid off his chest. “I’m so sorry, milord.” He smiled at her kindly. “It is of no problem, Lady…”

“Kaltain,” she offered.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hand.

“The pleasure is mine, milord,” she said and turned as if to leave. On second thought, she whirled around and asked, “You are Duke Liam?” He nodded, surprised. She shot him a disarming smile. “The least I could do is get you another drink.” She waved over a waiter and made a show of grabbing two glasses of wine from the platter of drinks he held out to them.

Before turning around and presenting one to her companion, she flicked her wrist, slipping out the vial of clear liquid hidden inside her elbow-length glove, and poured it into a goblet with the ease that came with experience. She handed one to the Duke and clinked his glass with her own.

“To new friendships.”

“To new friendships,” He echoed and she had to stifle a wicked smile as he drank deeply.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Duke,” she said sweetly as she walked away. After all, it would be his last.

**************

Kal was leaning against a pillar, watching men and women spin by. She had just about had it with Jem. Pulling out an embroidered lace fan, she covered her face and whistled a sharp, four-note melody. People glanced her way, but surely no one would expect a lady to whistle, now would they? The lyrics of the old lullaby came back to her abruptly, bringing with it a wave of wistfulness and melancholy :

You and I

We met in the dregs of July

Where bee-loud glades sing

And worlds collide.

It happened one night

A twist of ways and faith

Though a thousand memories pass us by,

This one I will never forget…

She could picture Mother’s care-worn face, her ageless voice, and hear Father’s last words, “Go Kal, go before the illness strikes you too—“

Kal frowned. Something interrupted her brooding, another four-note whistle, more lively and tuneful than hers. Jem had always been the better whistler among the two of them, anyway. But where was he? She turned to her left, where she thought she heard it first, but she couldn’t spot his tousled ebony hair anywhere. The whistle came again from her right, and she whirled again, almost losing her footing. He was playing with her, was he? Another whistle. This time, she spun around so violently that her feet quite tripped over themselves and suddenly, she was crashing towards the tiles. A pair of strong arms entwined with her own and spun her around in an elegant twirl. As Jem led her to the dance floor, she threw her head back and met his laughing brown eyes.

“About time you got here,” she grumbled.

“Well, I couldn’t let you have all the fun to yourself now, could I?" Jem said, dangling two empty vials in front of her face.

“James Evans! Are you trying to get us killed?” she hissed. “Put those away where no one can see!” He let out a carefree laugh and tossed them into a nearby potted plant.

“As you wish, milady,” He sketched a bow. Kal shook her head and smiled ruefully.

“You and your arrogance will be the death of me, you know,”

But he stiffened abruptly and leaned down to whisper into her ear. “Kal, we have a problem.”

She froze. “What is it?”

“It’s Elijah, he’s not here.”

She let out a light laugh.

“Maybe he’s being fashionably late, like you.” But Jem’s brows furrowed in worry.

“He has the last vial, Kal. It’s for Duke Vladimir, today’s host. And you know Elijah, he’s paranoid. He isn’t even a minute late.”

“Duke Vladimir?” Kal repeated thoughtfully, squeezing his shoulder so hard he winced.

“No, no, no no—Whatever you’re thinking, I’m voting a definite no.” Jem began, “Kal whatever you’re about to do—”

“Relax Jem, I’ve got this,” He shook his head again, and made as if to grab her.

But she was already moving away, slipping between the crowd before Jem could react.

Kal rushed towards the balcony, ignoring Jem’s infuriated voice, straight to the balustrades which were overlooking a grand pavilion where dozens of people were gathering to hear the host’s speech. She ducked easily through a section that had been blocked by wooden beams and emerged into an isolated hallway with a perfect view of the stage below. A chandelier was hanging from the ceiling, every bit of crafted glass reflecting rainbows onto the crowd below. She leaned casually against the railing, pretending to hang on to every word spoken by the man below,

“—a very big thanks for all of those who have attended—” he was saying, and raising a glass. Kal exhaled, reaching deep into the folds of her skirts. When she next looked up, the light gleamed off the knife clutched in her palms. The Duke was still speaking, pacing about the wooden platform, the drink in his glass sloshing as he moved. She inhaled, and raised her throwing hand. Deep breath. Close one eye, pull her shoulder back—

“Milady, what are you doing?” A man’s deep voice, from behind her. Only years of training kept her from flinching. She turned, hiding the blade behind her back and feigning a look of confusion. “Isn’t this where the Duke’s family gathers?” she asked innocently while peering at him from beneath her lashes. He was heavily built and was wearing the royal sigil. Something was wrong. The king’s guards never came to parties hosted by a mere duke. She had to warn Jem, she had to getaway…

“Lady, this section has been roped off, how did you even—” Kal struck, slamming the heel of her palm to his throat, leaving him choking for air. Before he had even stumbled a step back, she was there, sending a spinning kick to his jaw. But her skirts hampered her movement, and the man managed to shout before she knocked him out cold. She froze for a long moment, limbs twitching with restraint. Far off, probably thundering up a staircase, were footsteps. She was trapped. The corridor was sealed, her sole escape being in the direction of the rapidly ascending footsteps. There was only one way out—straight down. And if she timed it right…

Kal took a readying breath and backed away a few steps from the railing. The knife dangled loosely from one hand, even if every one of her muscles had tensed up with anticipation, and there was adrenaline coursing through her every vein. Then she took a running leap and jumped clean over the railing. She was weightless, infinite, suspended in time. Then gravity took hold, she was hurtling toward the ground and she only just managed to sever the chords holding the chandelier in place before she passed by it completely and hit the floor with a loud thud, rolling to absorb the impact. For a second, she could feel the gazes of a hundred shocked people and hear their muffled gasps. Then she moved, rolling to the side, even as her knees barked in pain. Kal cleared the pavilion just as the chandelier came raining down, a sea of broken glass, an ocean of diamond shards. When the screaming started, she grinned, teeth bared and all, and if anyone was to have seen it, it would have been a terrible thing to behold, something otherworldly, something feral.

A sound reached her ears though, through the piercing wails of noblewomen and clamoring shouts of panicked men. A four-note melody.

You and I

We met in the dregs of July

Kal turned, her smile vanishing. Something was wrong.

Where bee-loud glades sing

And worlds collide

It was a warning. The whistle repeated itself over and over again, and that feeling of wrongness overwhelmed her. She could envision Jem next to her, his eyes flaring wide in panic. "Run Kal", he seemed to be saying. But where? The exit was at the other end of the palace. She managed to duck behind a pillar, just as the double-doors swept open, and royal guards stormed into the pavilion, their rifles gleaming in the light.

*****************

Jem could barely think straight. Between the blood staining his white undershirt and his aching jaw, he just wanted to run out to the gardens in the confusion, and straight home. But not without Kal. He would never leave her behind. Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the crowds.

Somewhere behind him, the doors slammed shut with a ring of finality. They were trapped, and if anyone bothered to search the invitation lists, they were sitting ducks. Where are you, Kal?

His eyes roved desperately over the hordes of people, and he exhaled shakily when he located a flash of her periwinkle dress in the shadows of an intricately carved pillar. Squaring his shoulders, he headed into the writhing mass of bodies once again.

Kal knew they were rounding up the ladies and gentlemen, one by one, and checking their names in the guest registry, and with the Duchess, who was still sobbing as the body of her mangled husband was dug out from beneath the glass. Kal was shaking, quivering, for the first time in her life. It was only a matter of time, and she would never let them take her alive, she would fight her way out of it, just as she al—

Jem pulled Kal to his chest, clapping a hand over her lips. He felt her struggle fiercely, and then relax as she realized whose arms trapped her in place. He slowly let go, and whispered softly but not weakly into her ear, “We’ve been betrayed, Kal. And it was Elijah, I saw him myself.”

He could see the shock register on her face, but he barreled on determinedly.

“The royal sigil, that’s our ticket out. We steal two uniforms and walk out of this damned place.”

Jem squeezed her bare shoulder, willing her to understand, to not fight him on this one thing. He could hear her ragged breathing against his chest and remembered all the times she had cried onto his shoulder when she missed her parents too much, and all the times they had hidden in some dark alleyway, cowering against the night, in a position similar to the one they were in right now.

“We can’t fight our way out of this one, Kal.” He pleaded. She looked up at him, and a thousand memories flashed between them, trembling and bittersweet. Jem taking the beatings meant for her when her fiery temper got them both into trouble at the orphanage. Jem bandaging her first wounds from a street fight. Jem pulling her away from her mother and father, even as she wailed and beat at his chest in rage. His voice, ‘Don’t worry, Mrs. Mason. I’ll take care of her. I promise.’ His cheer as he whistled the melody that meant so much to her.

Finally, she spoke, willing her voice not to shake.

“You distract, I attack?” Jem nodded. It had always been that way, ever since either of them could remember. He watched as she raised her chin and looked at him with barely-concealed gleaming eyes.

“After you, James Evans,” He grinned, and she grinned back.

*************

Kal stooped, hiding behind a fallen wooden beam. She could hear voices, one that she knew as well as her own, and another, its tenor suggesting a young man. As the voices neared, she heard,

“—right here, sir, I assure you, pools and pools of blood! I can’t imagine where it came from, sir, really, I knew I had to tell someone—“ She couldn’t help the small rush of pride. Jem could deceive anyone. She heard footsteps, growing closer and closer to her hiding place until she could see the shadow of the man directly in front of her. She waited, waited, and— CRACK!

She knocked him out with a clean sweep of a wooden beam, but her satisfaction was short-lived as she watched in horror as he slumped to the floor with a huge thud. Someone would have surely heard that. She whirled, looking for Jem, “I thought you’d catch him—“ She stopped. Jem was leaning against the wall, his face bloodless. “You’re hurt.” she realized, and rushed to him, seeing the blood on his vest for the first time, but he was already pushing her away, towards the fallen man. “Go,” he gasped, panting. “Take the cloak, and go.” She met his eyes stubbornly and said without a trace of urgency. “Not without you.”

He growled in exasperation. “There’s only one cloak, Kal, use your head!” She just looked at him calmly.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He just looked at her murderously, until slowly his face leeched of anger. There was a flurry of indecision, but a moment passed as if he seemed to make up his mind on something.

He sighed wearily. “I promised your parents I’d take care of you.” He walked carefully to the fallen man and extracted his cloak. When he looked up at her, his eyes burned with an emotion she couldn’t recognize.

When he spoke next, his voice was empty, detached. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise. Just wear the cloak and go.” She searched his face, and found nothing but honesty.

“Fine. But both of us are going to make it out. You hear me?”

Jem just nodded, a small defeated nod.

**************

They almost made it. Almost. No one paid any attention to her, people cleared a path for a Royal Guard with a sigil. But as they were nearing the door, one hand poised to open it, one of the other guards spotted Jem. And just like that, she knew they were doomed. But this last battle, she would go down fighting, side by side with Jem, her brother, her best friend, the one she loved the most. She was about to remove the last of her hunting knives from her dress when an arm closed around her wrist. She looked up at Jem, his usually gentle eyes smoldering, and with a disjointing lurch at the pit of her stomach, she recognized that feeling swimming in his eyes.

Regret.

She screamed, tried to twist away, but it was too late. Somehow, she was already on the other side of the door, the night air cooling her too-warm cheeks. The last thing she saw was his chocolate eyes, and the shape of his lips tracing a goodbye, and the door slammed shut on her face.

And no matter how much she threw herself onto that door, slamming her shoulders onto the wood, beating at it with flailing fists, no matter how much she wept, the door would not open. Blankly, she remembered herself thinking, Jem could deceive anyone. She’d never imagined it to be her.

****************

She sat among the graves in a small, well-kept cemetery. She could not find in herself enough strength to cry, so she leaned against her mother’s gravestone and stared into the age-old darkness. She could swear it stared back. On a sudden impulse, she whistled the four-note melody, its sound eerily comforting in the blackness.

though a thousand memories pass us by,

this one I will never forget

Oh, Jem! she thought. If only you’d let me fight with you. Then the tears came, and the shuddering, heaving sobs. But between the grimy film of her tears, she heard a sound. Not daring to believe it, she rubbed her tearing eyes, and looked again—Jem, in a cloak with the sigil, identical to her own. When she saw the white slash of Jem’s smile in the oppressing night, she sobbed even more. But then his arms were around her, and she never felt more at home.

It happened one night, he whistled back.