She cursed herself for lingering in one spot for so long. She pulled open the heavy glass door and entered an unfamiliar building. She looked up and saw many floors up, with giant windows along the wall with the door through which she had entered. There were tall palms growing inside, all the way to the ceiling.
In front of her were two ostentatious staircases, each leading three floors upward to a balcony. She ran up to the landing, from which she could observe the entire atrium without being seen from below, while she pondered her next move. She glanced around, taking in any possible escape, but found none where she would not be followed. The offices along the halls behind her offered hiding, but she knew that he would search for her unrelentingly until he had her. He was thorough and enduring.
If she chose to run upstairs, it would be a dead end. It would mean walking into yet another trap. The stairs there were too open, and she would be seen with her back to him, fleeing like a coward.
She would have to wait and use any wits she still possessed. If she failed, she could still have the dignity of handing herself over, instead of being taken by force. If she was bound to fail, she could keep her honor, since escape now seemed impossible.
She examined the ground again, and then the walls. They were bare except for the company’s logo on one side of the entrance, and a counting board on the other. $12,999 shined on it. Now she knew what she must do to lose her follower and to enhance her disguise.
She stood still in the center of the platform and waited. Her breathing was deep and even despite her terror. She knew that, for the moment, she was alone in the atrium. No one would witness this, and if she was successful, the figure whose outline was visible through the glass would not have to opportunity to testify. She took a deep breath, clenched her teeth, and waited for the dreaded door to open.
She did not hear him stride across the ground below her, nor mount the first set of stairs. She heard nothing but a faint squeak on her left, by which she knew to expect him. She had no weapon, and no concrete plan. He certainly had the advantage, unless he let his guard down. That was what she meant to make him do.
She stood up yet straighter, and looked ahead, not a hint of fear left in her expression. He came around the corner of the staircase, and she could see he was shocked to see her facing him. His hand immediately reached for a blade at his hip, but he did not draw it. He approached her, hesitant, but not as cautious as he should be.
“Why do you want me?” she nearly whispered, when he had come close, standing not two feet from her.
He frowned, the first expression she had seen on his face. The frown did not take away from the perfection of his face, only enhanced its mysterious beauty. His black eyes looked away for a fraction of a second, while he gathered himself together. “I am following orders. I do not question their intent, and I advise you to not do so either.” He replied.
She stepped closer and looked up at him. He was half a head taller than her. “What is your name?” she questioned him again, against her instinct.
Surprised by her audacity, or perhaps rashness, he answered by instinct, “Sariel.” He paused. “You will have no need of my name, unless my superiors are upset by your answers and you turn to me for help.”
“They do not plan to kill me straight away, then.” she acknowledged.
“No they do not. They are curious about something you and your friends have stumbled upon. Something that was not meant to be disturbed.” He confirmed. His answers were sharp and quick whispers, but they were not angry. He was curious about her; not many people he had met were brave enough to talk to him, unless it was begging. He had lost his ability to read their emotions, always surrounded by just that one – fear.
She could tell that he was intrigued. He seemed... almost expectant of something.
When he asked her “What could be the occasion for such attire as you are wearing?” she lowered her gaze, as if embarrassed by his question, and noticed that he no longer had a grip on his knife. She looked back up, at his face, which he had moved slightly to the side as he questioned her.
“Persons from horror stories can clear a room or a street quite easily, I thought that you would have known that,” she answered curtly. Before the shock registered on his face, his own knife was pressed against his throat with inexpert hands. Their roles reversed, and Danyana looked Sariel directly in the eye. He had no time to react before her mouth reached for his throat, and he felt the bite of, not steel, but her own teeth.
~.~.~.~.~
She clutched at her heart and fought back the urge to scream. This was not her. She thought it would be alright and that she could handle it, but seeing him, pale white in dark clothes, except for the blood, leaving his face and his body, and spilling onto the dark marble floor was harder than it had been to force him to let down his guard. She no longer liked the power she possessed.
Still, she would have to leave. Her situation was no better than it had been before. Her immediate follower lay there on the floor, but many more would follow her now. Some would be driven away by fear of her, but more would be incited to hunt her by that same fear.
She wiped her face, shakily stood, turned away, and walked to the stairs. She allowed herself only one glance over her shoulder before she left the building. What she saw was a corpse on the pristine floor, under a sign reading $12,999 - only one away from dreaded thirteen.