The alley was dark, the kind of dark that felt thick, almost solid. The girl walked home alone, late, her footsteps echoing off damp stone.
A hand clamped over her mouth. She was pulled into blackness.
She struggled, but before she could scream, pain bloomed in her side. A blade. She felt it go in, felt the warmth of blood spreading. She fell to the ground, staring up at the man who stood over her, his face cold and satisfied.
"Such a shame," he whispered. "You were a fun one. But my work here is done. Goodbye."
He pulled the blade free, wiped it on his sleeve, and walked away. A warm breeze brushed his face. He smiled. Another job well done.
Behind him, the girl lay still.
He washed his hands in a rain barrel, slipped the knife into his pocket, and headed for the alley's mouth.
A rustling sound. He stopped.
Footsteps, quiet, cautious. He reached for his blade again, scanning the shadows.
Cold metal pressed against his throat from behind.
"Well, well." A voice he recognized. Her voice. "Look who's caught in a bit of a mess now."
He froze. "How… how are you—"
"Alive?" The girl stepped around to face him, very much not dead. "I was faking, of course. You seemed so eager to kill me. I wanted to see if you'd actually go through with it."
His mouth hung open.
"You were playing me the whole time," he whispered.
She chuckled. "You're not used to having the tables turned, are you? I expected you to be smarter."
His eyes widened in horror as her grip tightened on his neck. He clawed at her hands, but her fingers were iron. The world began to fade.
"Let him go. Now."
A deep, commanding voice. The girl froze. Her eyes darted, searching for the source.
A shadow emerged from deeper darkness, tall, broad, radiating power.
"You've gotten yourself into trouble," the shadow said, disdain dripping from every word.
The girl whirled, but the shadow was already there. His hand closed around her throat, lifting her off the ground.
"Drop the knife."
"You're not in command here," she gasped.
Then—shink.
A blade across the shadow's throat. Blood sprayed like a fountain. The shadow's grip loosened, and he stumbled back, clutching his neck.
The man she'd been choking, her would-be killer, stood behind the shadow, knife in hand, panting.
The girl dropped to the ground, coughing. The shadow collapsed, gurgling.
"You…" the shadow rasped, glaring at her with dying eyes. "Son of a bitch… you killed him…"
"Me?" She stared at the dying man. "I didn't—"
But the shadow was already gone.
The man who'd stabbed him, her attacker, stood there, swaying. Then he too collapsed, bleeding from the wound she'd given him earlier. The one that was supposed to be fatal.
She stood in the alley, surrounded by two dying men, and laughed bitterly.
"What a mess."
She knelt beside the man who'd tried to kill her, the one who'd just saved her, inexplicably. His eyes fluttered open.
"Why?" she asked.
"Contract," he wheezed. "On you… from the Shadow Sect. But I… I couldn't…"
"Couldn't what?"
His eyes found hers. "Your brother… he's alive. I know where."
Her breath caught. "What?"
But his eyes were already glazing over. She shook him, but he was gone.
Behind her, the shadow's body dissolved into, nothing. Just darkness fading into darkness.
She sat back on her heels, mind reeling. A contract on her life. A dead assassin who knew about her brother. A shadow that wasn't really a man.
What have I walked into?