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Toryn's long, flaming red hair moved in the wake of the pub door as it opened. He stepped through, only to be stopped by a hulk of a man in an obviously pleather coat. "Di'n'tja read t' sign," he growled. "No elves �lowed. This is a �umans only place. Gerrout." "Whatever, this place is fake �s your jacket," the elf replied cooly. "Never seen anyone come out smilin'." His deep blue eyes gleamed in the dull, artificial light, and he chuckled. "Gerrout, bas'ard." The man was getting mad. Toryn turned and stepped back into the blazing heat outside, slamming the door shut in the man's red face. He sauntered down the street, limping slightly. That made him all the more appealing to the girl hidden in the shadows, but she couldn't go against her orders, now could she? She watched Toryn as he entered his building and climbed the creaky flight of steps up to his apartment. A few minutes later, she dodged back into the alley. * * * Toryn walked up the stairs. His feigned limp forgotten. He had seen the look in that girl's eyes, and he knew what she wanted. He also knew that he somehow had to prevent her from accomplishing her mission. He let himself into his apartment, and walked into the kitchen to make coffee. Ten minutes later, he was lying back on the couch reading a book and contentedly sipping the hot coffee. The book, it was a good one, was about a group of people of different races sent out to throw a ring in some volcano. It was the first of a trilogy by a man named Tolkien. Best thing about it, Toryn thought, is that he gives a damn good representation of elves. And humans aren't the main focus of the story. He didn't notice the figure hiding in the next room until it was standing above him, ready to strike. * * * She slipped silently up the fire escape to Toryn's apartment. She forced his bedroom window open and darted to the door. She opened it a crack and watched him make a drink in the kitchen. A minute after he had sprawled on the couch with a book, she murmured a short prayer of luck, then drew her knife and slipped out of the shadows. He didn't notice her until she was inches away from cutting his throat, and by that time it was almost too late. "You underestimate me," he said, his voice cutting cooly through the heat in the apartment. She paused for a mere second, but that was her one fatal mistake. * * * The girl standing above him only paused for a moment, but that was all he needed. His hand flew like lightening through the air and clasped her wrist in a vice-like grip. Surprised, she dropped the knife and it bounced off a cushion on the couch and landed on Toryn's bare chest, nicking the flesh slightly. Toryn paid it no notice, but continued to stare up at the girl he had caught. A minute later he picked up the knife, and without looking, threw it at the wall, where it stuck like a lone tree on a vertical plain. He stood up, twisting the girl's arm behind her, and growled in her ear, "Who sent you and why?" "You think I'm about to tell you that?" she laughed. "Well, you're sadly mistaken." "You will if you value your life," he said. He jerked her arm back a little and heard her gasp through her teeth. "So? What've you got to say for yourself?" "Fuck off," she hissed. "Fine," he said, "we'll start with something easy. What's your name?" He jerked her arm again, and she whimpered. "I'm not going to let you go until you tell me." "My name is Krystal," she said. "Happy?" "Not particularly," Toryn told her. "I might be if you tell me who sent you and why they want to kill me, though." "Fuck off," she repeated. He could feel her quivering under his fingertips, and her eyes reflected how much she hated being captive. Untitled © 2002 Gioanna Rheumer |