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.