Hadjia knew, with cold certainty, that she'd never win against The Mother. Despite Hadjia's apparent skills, Mother Sigunta was no frail old woman after all. There was a quick, sinewy strength in her that belied all reason.
Hadjia spun around to run, but Mother Sigunta lashed out with her walking stick. The stick hit Hadjia in the calf, tripping her. Her body flew through the air until she lay sprawled on the wood floor. The air rushed out of her lungs in one giant breath.
Mother Sigunta lifted her walking stick high. "You've made your decision, Hadjia. Now I have made mine."
Hadjia thrust herself to her feet, crossed the room in three steps, and threw herself into the slightly open window. Two panes of glass shattered; one cracked. The old frame gave way, admitting Hadjia into the darkness of night – and her only chance at freedom.
Hadjia scrambled through the forest as fast as her legs could carry her. Yet her body, still feeling the lingering effects of the paralyzing agent, was sluggish to respond at first.
She stumbled over tree roots and rocks and smashed into branches until finally, she got her equilibrium back. Once her muscles and balance were restored, she tore swiftly through the forest, nimbly avoiding the heaviest areas of the swamp. But she was running blindly through the night.
Nowhere to go, she thought in a panic. The Mother will find me. I have nowhere to go.
As if demons from another world were reaching for her, Hadjia continued to run. Although she fled as quickly as she dared, at every moment she thought she felt Mother Sigunta's breath on the back of her neck.
Minutes passed. Tens of minutes passed as she ran, searching for something – she didn't know what – in the midst of the trees and the shadows.
Finally her running feet slowed. She gasped for air as her ribs ached. Her heart thudded in her ears.
A building just ahead of her loomed out of the darkness, the sight of it nearly arresting her breath.
Her home.
Not the Red Moon School. Not Kaneko. Not the putrid swamp that made the world smell like rotten eggs. The home she would have had if Mother Sigunta hadn't taken her. The home she could have had if she hadn't . . .
Hadjia let the thought trail away.
Drawn forward as if by invisible strings, Hadjia stepped into the house. None of the neighbors were here now; all had departed after finding the family murdered earlier.
She slipped inside, silent as a shadow, and stared at the floor. Her mother was lying here now, along with her father.
Instead of laying in the same spot outside, her father lay next to her mother on the floor. Someone had cleaned the blood off her mother's neck. Her father’s clothing had been tidied up, his hair combed; he looked as if he could have been sleeping.
Hadjia swallowed past the heavy lump in her throat. She was filled with a deep sadness that penetrated all the way into the marrow of her bones.
The house seemed different to her now. Instead of barren, it seemed rich, filled with small knickknacks that signaled life. There were pieces of food. A doll. Cups, glasses, silverware carved from wood. Dishes, although many were broken now.
Hadjia took it all in, memorizing everything. This was her last chance to know something about them—and what she could have had.
Silently, Hadjia moved up the narrow, rickety staircase.
They'd moved her sister to her bed too, cleaning up her throat and placing a blanket on the floor on the spot where the blood had pooled when she died.
Hadjia stayed in the doorway to the room for several minutes.
What would we have been together?
But her sister didn't answer.
A small doll in the corner caught her eye; it rested next to a knife. Hadjia stepped toward it, crouching down. She picked up the knife with surprise; had she dropped it? When she tried to think back, everything was a black blur.
Pain and rage bubbled up inside her. She threw the knife at the wall with a growl. It stuck, embedding itself in the wooden slats with a twang.
The doll’s dress, made of light blue linen pieced together from scraps, hung off one shoulder. Hadjia picked the doll up, straightened its dress, and pressed a fingertip to its porcelain cheek. An image popped into her mind immediately: one of a young woman with dark hair and umber eyes.
The dark-haired woman had set the doll inside a wooden cradle with a squalling baby. The baby had its tiny hands bunched into fists as it wailed.
The vision shifted.
The same young woman held twin babies tucked into her arms, one on each side. Her hair fell down her shoulders in a loose braid with escaping black tendrils. Weariness was etched on her face, even though she was smiling. She was lovely, Hadjia thought in surprise. The young woman was lovely and radiated happiness, even when tired.
Each baby had the same shock of black hair. Similar scrunched, flushed faces. Both wore simple gowns of a soft blue linen.
Right then, the woman glanced up. She caught Hadjia's eyes, blinked, then smiled softly. With small steps, the woman advanced, shuffling forward with both babies in her arms.
Hadjia reached out, killing the woman with her knife and a fast slit of the throat.
The woman fell to the ground with a thud.
Hadjia didn't even have the time to breathe before a little girl approached her, put a cold hand on Hadjia's arm, leaned in, and whispered, "Assassin."
Blood oozed from the child's mouth, dripping down her throat and staining her teeth a horrifying crimson color.
Hadjia jerked away, screaming. The knife plummeted to the ground.
Hadjia jerked back to the present moment as she heard a thud.
Hadjia's racing heart slowed one beat at a time. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She cocked an ear. A slight sound, barely more than a breath, sent her stepping back until she was pressed against the wall. Hadjia reached for the knife in her boot, but it was already gone.
The door to the bedroom creaked open, revealing Kaneko. She slipped into the room, her eyes never leaving Hadjia's. "Ah, there you are, sister. We can fix this, Hadjia."
"Don't call me your sister. And don't come any closer."
"I only wanted to let you talk with The Mother."
"The Mother wanted to kill me."
Kaneko tilted her head back and laughed, but her glittering eyes never left Hadjia's. "You imagine such things! The Mother may have been angry, but she wouldn't have killed you. You're one of the best."
"She killed Kim."
"Kim wasn't you. He didn’t have your talent, your skills."
"You're a liar," Hadjia hissed. "We both know The Mother would never permit me to live, not after I displayed such open rebellion and ran away. If she allows me to live, she'll have to fear outright rebellion from other children too. Besides, you can’t be my sister. You knew," Hadjia seethed. "You knew what The Mother was doing."
"What are you talking about?" Kaneko asked, sounding confused.
"We were killing innocent people!" Hadjia cried. "You knew, and you didn't tell me. You lied to me."
Kaneko dropped her gaze. "I know now, yes, but I didn't at the time of my test. To me, they were evil. Bad people that the Mother needed to rid the world of. I did what any loyal, trusting assassin should do: what they're told."
Hadjia straightened, pulling her shoulders back. "That's where we're different."
"What difference does it make, Hadjia?" Kaneko cried. "You're an assassin now, don't you see? You're even going to try to kill me!"
"You're not innocent," she snarled.
"No, but murder is in your blood. It's in my blood. It's what we do and who we are. Even if you run away, you will never escape that reality."
"I didn't know!"
"That doesn't change anything."
The two assassins stared each other down. Kaneko's jaw tightened.
"Our families abandoned us; that's what happened, Hadjia. Mother Sigunta took us in. She fed us. Cared for us. She did what they wouldn't do. They don't deserve us, Hadjia."