"The Moonlight Assassin" by Gwenivere Stephan

The beer was good, the air was warm and smoky. The sweet smell of burning incense mixed with the smell of cooking food, bubbling lard, sweat and filthy bodies to create a strange perfume. It was not necessarily pleasant, but it was strangely comforting.

The tables were crowded close together and the light was low because of the lack of candles and lanterns in the place. The tavern was quite full, but not so much that it was unbearable. The sound of a fiddle playing filled the air. The fiddler was very good at what he did and was probably making quite the fortune in tips.

A gaggle of women sat around a single table, painted mouths stretched wide in fake laughter, their hair spilling over bare shoulders. They batted their eyelashes at the men drinking and eating. They chose a man from the crowd to flirt with and more often than not they went up the stairs with that man. And when they came down, they were a bit richer.

A red-haired man sat at a table, glancing now and then at the prostitutes and wondering if he would indulge tonight. His men sat around him, laughing and having a good time – relieved to be alive, probably. Glad to have a rest. They’d be meeting up with the rest of the army, soon enough, and then they’d have to get back to fighting. But for now, they were carefree.

Viper, he was called. He chuckled as he took a deep drink of his beer, thinking about that name. He liked it, well enough. He had certainly been called much worse, and the name had a great effect on some people. Fear. He leaned back in his chair and ran the back of his hand over his mouth, wiping away a wide grin and a few drops of liquid. How he loved fear.

It was then that he saw her. If he had not leaned back, if the crowd had not parted for just a moment, he would not have noticed her. In the dark room, she blended into the shadows. Her long white hair flowed down over her bare shoulders, almost covering her face. Her skin was as dark as ebony, her eyes shining golden through her long lashes. She met his gaze, one hand trailing across her stomach – bared – and resting on the curve of her waist. Viper blinked, then smiled across the room at her. Now that he had seen her, he kept his eyes on her, ducking or raising his head as the people moved across his field of vision.

She wore little clothing – a thin white blouse that showed her neck and shoulders, a short corset that showed her stomach, a skirt that let him catch glimpses of her calves and that clung to her hips. Her face was not painted but it was quite lovely. Her lips curved upwards and she looked away, as if shy. Viper’s mouth stretched into a wide grin.

He looked away from her as she started to cross the room. He sat up straight in his chair, then sunk low and slouched a bit, nonchalant. His men had noticed his stare and were snickering and elbowing each other. He didn’t care. Not one bit. Nope.

She reached the table and leaned against it, smiling at his men, then letting her golden eyes rest on him. He could see right down her blouse when she leaned forward like that – he liked the view. He grinned lazily at her, mesmerized by her golden stare but not letting it show. She had tucked her hair behind one ear – it was curved and pointed at the end. Even if her pale hair and eyes against her dark skin had not told him, it would be obvious to anyone now that she was a dark elf. How exotic.

"Hi," she said. Her voice was not as pretty as her face. Yet, somehow, that made it appealing. It was rough and low, almost hoarse. Viper raised an eyebrow at her.

"Evening," he said. She smiled and turned to look at the man sitting across the table from Viper. A boy, really, with wide eyes, staring straight down the woman’s shirt. She chuckled and reached out. Her long fingers ran over his smooth cheeks, down his chin, her index finger touching his bottom lip. His cheeks turned bright red and she laughed. She stood up, putting her hand on her hip. Her full lips curved up at Viper, her slanting eyes glittering with amusement.

"I’m Envy. What’s your name?" she said. She didn’t purr like other "ladies of the night," but spoke plainly in her rough voice. Envy – a fitting name for someone who looked like she did, he thought.

"They call me Viper."

She opened her mouth slightly, her eyes widening and her eyebrows arching. "Viper? That sounds like the name of a villain."

Viper grinned. "Well. I’m not exactly a hero." She laughed and raised her hand. For a moment he thought she was going to touch his face like she had the boy’s, but instead she rested her index finger on the lip of his tankard. She ran it around the rim, a slight smile on her lips, her teeth alarmingly white against her dark face. Then she looked at him, the smile suddenly gone.

"I was thinking that you weren’t from around here. Maybe you need an… escort… to your room. To make sure you don’t get lost," she said. She raised an eyebrow and he dipped his head down in a quick nod. "Three gold pieces for a night."

"A bit expensive, I think," he raised an eyebrow.

"The best swords cost the most money, no?" she replied, shifting her weight so that the curve of her waist was more obvious. He chuckled.

"Well, then, no problem," Viper said and straightened up in his chair. She stretched out a hand and he fished three gold pieces out of his pocket with a half-hearted grumble. He took a last swig of his beer and stood up. "Don’t get in too much trouble without me, boys." He put his arm around Envy’s waist and walked toward the stairs, listening to the hoots of laughter from his men.

She led him up the stairs and down the hall. She paused and tilted her head at him. He whispered his room number in her ear, breathing her scent in and pressing his lips to her neck. The warm, spicy scent of her skin made his head spin. She giggled and led him to the room. He unlocked it and then made sure it was locked behind him when they went inside, fumbling a bit with the key. His fingers felt slightly numb. He was embarrassed to be showing his excitement so much, but she did not seem to notice the delay.

He sat down on the bed, his hand on her hips. She looked down at him, not smiling any more, but he didn’t notice. She let him kiss her stomach, his beard tickling her skin. She had been counting, so her timing was perfect when she reached down and took a handful of his hair. She pushed him to the side just as he got sick.

Her dagger came to her hand quickly, but it was not needed. He fell to the floor with a thump, landing in his own vomit. Dead before he hit the ground. She smiled a real smile this time. It spread across her face quickly, a flash of white, then it was gone. She never smiled for long. She put her dagger away.

"Ah, poor Mister Viper. You’ve made quite a few enemies, it seems," she said as she did a quick search of the room. She found no more money hidden away, only what was in his pockets, which she would not take. "I suppose you didn’t even notice the taste of that last swallow of beer. Not that my poison tastes like much. A hint of vanilla, I am told."

She blew out the candles in the room and opened the shutters covering one of the two windows on either side of the bed. She looked at the body and waved goodbye with a wicked grin. With ease, she jumped out of the room. When her feet touched the ground she rolled forward, springing up silently. She didn’t bother to dust off the disgusting skirt she wore – she’d be burning it soon enough. She looked around the small yard she had landed in. There was a man leaning against a low fence, biting his fingernails. He had not noticed her.

"It is done," she said, walking toward the man. He jumped and placed a hand over his heart, gasping for breath.

"You scared me," he whispered.

"My payment," she held out her hand. He frowned at her.

"How do I know that you really did it?" he asked. She narrowed her eyes and he bit his lip. He quickly handed her a small pouch that tinkled with gold. She put it into her purse, smiling again.

"You can trust me," she said quietly. "I do not betray those I work for."

He studied her face, then shrugged. "All right, all right, I believe you." Then he grinned, his pale face lighting up. "It is good to know that snake is dead. He’s had it coming since…"

"Yes, yes," she held up her hand to stop him. "I’ve heard the story. I don’t care what he did to you or your sister."

"Ah, yes," the man ran a hand through his hair. "Well, thank you for what you did, all the same. I owe you my gratitude, Eloise Cooper."

She scowled at him as he turned away. Her dagger glinted in the moonlight. With two quick steps she was behind him. With a practiced move, she cut his throat before he even had time to scream. He fell, his pale cheek pressed against the grass. She smiled. Scum.

"So sorry, but you knew too much, and your tongue is far to loose for my taste," she whispered, taking a white handkerchief out of the top of her corset. She used it to clean her dagger, then threw it down next to the dead man. She sheathed her blade and turned away. She was satisfied. A good night’s work, all in all. She walked from the yard. By the time anyone found either body, she’d be long gone. As she walked, her purse jingled softly against her hip. The moonlight shone on her white hair and her teeth for only a moment before a cloud passed over the pale orb in the sky, darkening the night. When the moon shone again, she was gone.