Chapter Six: Carlos

Carlos brushed aside his recent encounter as he would a pesky fly, and walked briskly back into the woods. It was unfortunate, this dull cat and mouse game, but it was one that must be played. Cinderella had destroyed far too much, and Carlos never forgot.

It was seven years ago. Sven was his partner then, a man whose soul was as dark as Carlos' own, even while his hair and skin were pale and white. He was Carlos' opposite in looks, and his equal - yes, Carlos admitted it now - for skill, cunning, ruthlessness, and capacity for pain. They had been working a job at the other end of the Kingdom, and the opportunity arose to involve a third person. Carlos - in his young impetuousness, he thought bitterly - had argued that another agent would make the process swifter and hasten the end of the target. Sven had disagreed, not vehemently, for Sven never was carried away by emotion, and they had fallen out over it. In the end Carlos got his way and brought Cinderella in, and Sven had come in according to the original plan, trying to cut her out.  If it hadn't been for a last-minute, instinctive check at the end, Carlos would never have known how he had been betrayed. He saw it all from the turret, how Sven had fallen  from the top tower to a very grisly death. If Carlos was a nightmare man (having, not giving), he would still be troubled by the thought. But he had centred all his energies on revenge - no, not even revenge, for Sven was merely a partner, and partners were replaceable. No, it was more like punishment. Cinderella had broken the rules of engagement and there were consequences for such actions.

"How did it go?" he had asked her later when she came walking briskly up, blonde hair tied neatly back and hanging like a silk skein down her back.

"Like clockwork," Cindy had said calmly, packing away her things efficiently.  He had watched her carefully, but saw no sign of remorse, fear, or even concern. If she had not betrayed him she could have been a worthy partner, he thought. Although even Carlos realised that in this slim young thing he had very nearly met his match. She was no more likely to welcome a partner than he was. Connections meant emotions, and trust. Both let you down at the most critical moments, and Carlos didn't get paid the kind of money he did to let people down.

"And Sven?" Carlos asked calmly.

"Didn't make it," Cinderella said shortly, and closed her case with finality. They walked away and no more was said.

Carlos had never revealed to Cinderella, by word or action, his extreme disappointment. He found that words were often excessive, and actions much more effective. And enjoyable. Carlos took a perverse pleasure in punishment; sometimes, he thought, it didn't matter what the reality was: it mattered what he had decided it was.

They hadn't done any further jobs together, as such, but they held an uneasy truce kept in place by Carlos' remarkable ability to wait. He liked to think of himself as a jaguar - still, silent, black...and very, very dangerous. When he heard of the plot against the future king, Carlos' mind had worked swiftly. It was as though the plan had been simmering for seven years, and now here it was, flavourful and rich, ready for fulfillment. He and the FGM went way back - Carlos didn't care much about magic one way or the other, but he recognised its capacity for making some jobs that much simpler. If the FGM wanted a little revenge of her own - and revenge it was, for she was angry and passionate, and those emotions went well with revenge, even if they slowed it down - then who was Carlos to hold her back?

She had come to him for the wand, hoping, he could see, that he would simply provide the raw material and not want to be involved. But that wasn't Carlos' style. He had no intentions of letting anyone else own this situation, and this time it was his turn to be the one left standing.

"Can you do it?" the FGM asked, knowing full well he could. Carlos refused to rise to the bait.

"it will be ready by the Thursday before the ball," he said.

"isn't that a bit late?" the FGM asked, frowning. She liked everything to go according to plan - her plan. This time it would be Carlos' plan that took priority, and he needed a little extra time. If truth be told (which Carlos didn't care much about as it impacted others), he also wanted to make the FGM worry a bit - it would increase her reliance on him.

"It's Thursday or nothing," he said, as though he couldn't care less, and the FGM frowned and agreed. "One million."

That did shock her. "What?" the FGM stared, and then scowled. "Carlos, that's too high."

"You're probably paying Cinderella two million," Carlos said, and had the pleasure of seeing that he had nailed it right on the head. "She can't do it properly without the wand, and you can't do anything, can you, my dear?"

He had her there and she knew it. No one else could get the wand done in such a short time, and because of the king's edict the FGM couldn't do it herself - she'd be caught.

"After this you can make as many wands as you like," Carlos said, and the deal was done. Nothing needed to be signed for the FGM to know Carlos would keep his word. He always did.

The wand would be a beautiful thing. Steel-enforced wood, a double blade on the one side (that was tricky), smooth finish, almost the length of the arm. Easily slipped down the inside of the leg, and just as easily thrust into a throat, a side, a gut. Rather gruesome, but effective nonetheless. And Cinderella would be effective: that is, until the very magic she was fighting to return to the Kingdom would be used against her. Sven would have loved this moment, this plan, this pitiless vengeance. Sven who was now seven years gone, leaving Carlos just that little bit less effective than he could have been. And it was all because Cinderella - but Carlos stopped mid-thought.  He wasn't one to dwell on the past. Sven was dead, and Cinderella soon would be.

Chapter Five: Ugly Stepsister No. 2

Lucinda sank down by the window, alone at long last. One of the worst parts of this job was having to be "on" all the time. She pulled a lacy ribbon out of her hair and laid it on the pretty table. They did have some nice things, she had to admit.  But if she had to simper and scream about Prince Edward one more time, she'd just lie down in a good old-fashioned fit. She sighed and opened the window, letting the light evening breeze come in and lift her hair - and her spirits - lightly. 

She wondered what would happen when this was all over. If everything went to plan...but then, often nothing went to plan, so they had to be prepared with a Plan B...and C, and D...

Lucinda rose from the window and swished her way out the room and down the winding staircase. This house was creepy - she needed an out.  She peeked her head round the corner of a small room off to the left, where her "stepmother" sat writing at an even smaller table.

"I'm away for a walk, Mother," Lu said, wrapping a coat around her as she spoke.

Dame Montel raised an inquiring eyebrow and opened her mouth to speak.

"I know, I know," Lu said impatiently. "I'll be careful."

Diana frowned, glanced backwards, and then shrugged as if to say , "On your own head, then," and went back to her writing. Lucinda never ceased to be impressed by the woman's ability to centre all her energies on herself. There was hardly a matronly bone in her body. Lu lifted the latch and went out.

The night was cool and clear, with a sprinkling of stars. Despite everything else that was difficult about this assignment, Lu loved the country. She set off on a makeshift path that headed to a clearing not far away. Even Dame Montel couldn't rebuke her for that. She did wish she had brought one of the transmitters they had set up for the ball, but it couldn't be helped. She was a bit spontaneous, Lu was - and most of the time that wasn't a bad thing. Spontaneity also meant quick first impressions and followed hunches, and she was very rarely wrong. She admitted she looked like a bit of a fluff sometimes, but she got the job done.

Lucinda took another deep breath as she reached the clearing. Everything was still....almost too still. She frowned slightly, and glanced around. No wind, no movement in the trees, no animals....no animals. She repeated the last to herself and was suddenly a little afraid. Shed never seen the woods like this, which meant....

There was a loud whooshing sound, a flurry of sudden wind, and then the clearing stilled again. Only now Lucinda was not alone.

"Carlos," she breathed, almost inaudibly, and he grinned, as though they had planned to tryst here, and he was merely showing up. He was the perfect villain. Tall, lithe, slicked-back dark hair, dressed in black leather, everything about him proclaiming, "Money." Ill-gotten money. Blood money. He had long thin hands, and on the left a garish ring with a blood-red ruby sparkled in what was left of the starlight. He wasn't good looking in the slightest, thought Lucinda, but it was impossible to see the man without his ever-present haze of evil. The words "murder", "viciousness", "cruelty" seemed to literally hang in the air before him. He carried nothing, yet always managed to have everything he needed, when he needed it. He was often all in black, though Lucinda had seen him in white more than once. Evidently he also enjoyed prowling around under guise of am angel of light. He was in black today, all the way down to black boots, seemingly polished only moments ago even though it was to be presumed he walked here like everyone else. Of course Carlos wasn't like everyone else. Or like anyone else.

She scowled.

"What in the kings name are you doing here? I ought to call out the royal guard," she snapped.

"Ah, but it's so pleasant, just you and I," Carlos said pleasantly, linking his arm through hers and beginning to walk down the path. Lucinda snapped it back with a strength that surprised even her. Carlos too looked at her almost in surprise, although she was aware that it was unlikely anything truly caught him off guard. She certainly wouldn't mind doing the job.

"well, well," he said after a pause, smile wiped off cleanly. The pleasantries were apparently over. "and here I thought I'd picked the clever one."

He always knew his enemies' weaknesses, Lucinda thought wearily. They were always calling Dru the clever one and her the pretty one, and Carlos knew she hated it.  She was weary of this battle already and it hadnt even begun.

"You're welcome to try your luck with Drusilla," Lu retorted, "but it appears you already knew you'd lose there."

Carlos just laughed. "Well, my pretty, what say we just get to the point?" Lucinda was about to speak when she realised he meant his words fairly literally, and she was looking at the sharp end of a very evil-looking dagger. She schooled herself carefully not to react with fear, and met his black eyes unquailing. She felt she had passed perhaps a second test - but with Carlos, the tests never ended until you were dead.

"let's", she said, and Carlos nodded.

"Here's the deal," he said. It was amazing how his voice could change in an instant. It was demanding, harsh. No room for compromise, said this voice. "I don't care what you do on the night of the ball, and I sure as the prince is currently alive don't care if be stays that way. I want Cinderella dead."

Lucinda had been schooling herself for a surprise, but this was well beyond anything she had anticipated. Cinderella? Wasn't she supposed to be in league with Carlos? In rapid-fire thinking, Lucinda realised that no one was, really, in league with Carlos. He was in league with only himself (and even that was debatable).

"Well." Lucinda said, after a pause, and then stopped helplessly. What was she supposed to say? She couldn't - and wouldn't - promise Cinderella's death, even if it wouldn't be true. Lucinda was a real truth teller and a horrible liar (and Carlos knew it, which is why he had come to her, she figured). She looked at Carlos with loathing and he smiled horribly.

"Just see it's done," he said as though they were discussing what was to be served at dinner. "Or else -" He drew his dagger thinly, finely across her neck with such practised ease that it left a red line but didn't break the skin. "Or else next time you won't be walking away with this pretty little head intact." He smiled again, almost pleasantly, and Lucinda swallowed hard and tried to keep her eyes calm.

There was nothing more to say, and Lucinda knew that Carlos was capable of waiting things out all night, so she simply sighed, pulled her skirts together, and walked back the way she came, conscious of Carlos' dark stare following her all the way round the bend - and, it felt, long after she finally entered the house.

The plot, as they say, thought Lucinda, thickened.

Next Up - Chapter Six: Carlos