Vermilion Elixir
The sun glinted off the Eiffel Tower as it began to slide beneath the horizon. A short woman with auburn hair lurked in the shadows beneath the Tower, staring through the flood of passerby. As soon as dusk established its hold over the square, she moved out from beneath the Tower, striding confidently towards the city streets.
She reached a small shop, the bright decor a stark contrast to her tight leather pants, studded belt, and cropped tank which showed off her tattoos. A hand wrapped around the knife hilt at her belt, she pushed open the door to the tinkling of the bell. Before the young girl behind the counter could say a word, the woman held up a hand to silence her as she stalked to the back of the store.
Hearing a male voice from behind one of the doors, she laid her hand on the doorknob, pausing to smile before smoothly sliding open the door. A man sat behind a desk, engaged in a lively phone conversation which she swiftly ended by plucking the phone from his hand.
"I'm sorry," her husky voice bathed the receiver. "Paul will have to call you back at another time. He's about to be otherwise occupied."
As she ended the call, the man tried to turn and face her, but was caught in her grasp, her knife caressing his throat. Her warm breath filled his ear as she leant down beside him. "You've failed another assignment. Tell me why I should let you live."
"Please," he whispered, "I can do better. I will do better, I promise."
Her ambrosial laugh taunted him as her fingers traced his jawbone. With a quick flick of her wrist, his body slumped against his desk.
She kissed the blood that fell from his body.
She reached a small shop, the bright decor a stark contrast to her tight leather pants, studded belt, and cropped tank which showed off her tattoos. A hand wrapped around the knife hilt at her belt, she pushed open the door to the tinkling of the bell. Before the young girl behind the counter could say a word, the woman held up a hand to silence her as she stalked to the back of the store.
Hearing a male voice from behind one of the doors, she laid her hand on the doorknob, pausing to smile before smoothly sliding open the door. A man sat behind a desk, engaged in a lively phone conversation which she swiftly ended by plucking the phone from his hand.
"I'm sorry," her husky voice bathed the receiver. "Paul will have to call you back at another time. He's about to be otherwise occupied."
As she ended the call, the man tried to turn and face her, but was caught in her grasp, her knife caressing his throat. Her warm breath filled his ear as she leant down beside him. "You've failed another assignment. Tell me why I should let you live."
"Please," he whispered, "I can do better. I will do better, I promise."
Her ambrosial laugh taunted him as her fingers traced his jawbone. With a quick flick of her wrist, his body slumped against his desk.
She kissed the blood that fell from his body.
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