The Dead Cat Tail Assassins by P. Djèlí Clark

Author:P. Djèlí Clark
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor Publishing Group

* * *

“A HUNDRED-YEAR CONTRACT?”

Sky twisted her head about, a cascade of blue braids turning with her glare.

Eveen nodded from behind, where she was securing straps on the leather top she’d found for the girl. More assassin’s gear, complete with breeches and padded boots. Best spare clothes she had. And it managed to fit—sort of.

“Standard death indenture,” she related.

They’d had their talk while preparing. Eveen told about as much as she could about her undead life, minus graphic details on the murdering parts. In turn, the girl told her of growing up in Tal Abisi, of wanting to be a surgeon, and her dreams.

“What could we have been thinking to sign up for that?” Sky murmured. She slipped on a small satchel she’d procured from Eveen’s chest.

“Ask myself that a dozen times a day. People end up in Aeril’s employ for lots of reasons—a personal favor, to protect someone else, even a plea to spare a contracted life.”

Sky turned. “That can happen?”

Eveen shrugged. “Never actually seen it. But if someone offers their life for yours and Aeril accepts the plea—yeah.” She stepped back, scrutinizing the girl. “You look like my sidekick.”

“Or you look like my sidekick,” Sky said, admiring herself in a mirror. “Do I get a knife?”

“Can you use a knife?”

“I’ve used a knife before.”

“For other than eating? Or … surgeoning?”

“Oh. I don’t think so.”

“Then no. Just take the cloak.” Eveen pulled on the cobalt blue jacket she’d worn earlier—part of her Pirate Princess costume. “I’ll work on blending in.”

“How about a dagger? I bet I can—” Sky paused, squinting into the mirror. “Is that a string?”

Eveen barely had time to register the question before her skin prickled. A hand went reflexively to her knife, pulling it free and swinging. Just in time too, as she batted away the strand of silver streaking toward them. Small sparks flew as metal struck metal with a loud ka-ching! The string retreated through the air and back up to the hatch.

“What was that?” Sky asked in alarm.

“Down!” Eveen shouted, as half a dozen new strands shot from the hatch. She moved with both knives now, lashing out and throwing up sparks with each contact. One. Ka-ching! Two. Ka-ching! Three. Ka-ching! She spared a glance at Sky, who cowered behind her. Four. Ka-ching! Five. Ka-ching! Six. Snip! Damn. She missed. But it hadn’t. She looked down to find her knife on the floor, along with the three fingers the strand had cleanly sliced off.

“Shit. Aeril’s fiery—”

“I spy little flies,” a raspy voice broke in. “Hiding, hiding, hiding from me…”

Eveen grimaced. She’d known one of the undead was here from the prickle on her skin. The strands were enough to tell her who. She turned to Sky. “The cloak! Get into the cloak!”

The girl looked to where she’d left it—on a table feet away. Eveen groaned. Might as well be miles. She lurched for it. But the strands were faster. Flashes of silver slashed at the cloak in quick strikes. In moments it was in tatters.

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