Selisilia- Part Four: The Show

  Veltiar walked on the sidewalk of the west side street. 'Why doesn't the east side have sidewalks?' he thought. He wore a dark purple robe this night, with two yellow stripes, shaped as royal swords, came down from each shoulder to boot. Underneath the uniform was light leather armor. He also had concealed every weapon that Jenine had given him. He looked back on the moment that took place some hours ago.

  Jenine had looked at Veltiar with shocked eyes, “Well then, I must be interupting, seeing that both of you still have your cloths on.” This time she laughed, and Laira's face exploded into a mixture of embaresment and anger. “Miss Fruawa, don't say such things!”

  “Oh please, child. You must be so dissapointed that he isn't making a move right now.”

  Laira didn't comment, she only ran out of the room in embaresment. Veltiar said nothing, he only stared at his friend, “You know I would never do such a thing. And even if she wasn't so young I still wouldn't dare. She is too much like a daughter to me now.”

  “I know, Veltiar. She shouldn't even be in this business. I've walked in on her crying after a job.”

  “Things need to change.” Jenine looked like she wanted to say something as she walked in and laued the carpet on the side of the inner circle's cascading stairs. Veltiar knew something was on her mind, “What is it Jenine?”

  She looked strate into his eyes and said, “Addopt Laira, please. Take her away from this place, you could save her.”

  “You know I can't,” he responded. It would be a strategic fualt if he were to travel and live with anybody. It was the reason that he had no spouse, no wingman, no children. It was why he didn't have many friends and only visited Jenine on business. In his profession, to take up a partner of any kind would only increase the chance of him dying. But the look in Jenines eyes spelled out a bigger plead for help than the time they first met.

  “Veltiar,” she said, “do it for me. If you still cair about us, you'll do it. Don't leave Laira here for the rest of her life. There is no one I can even put her with but you. She can't go anywhere else, and any blood-bar would take her if she'd live on the streets.”

  Veltiar couldn't condem Laira to this place, and he would kill himself if he allowed a blood-bar to claim her. “I will take cair of her,” he said. Jenine smiled warmly and nodded acceptance. The room went quiet for several minutes, until Veltiar put the situation at hand, “The weapons?”

  “Oh, of course. They're right here,” she said as she unroled the carpet. Inside was a one man armory. There was two scimars, one durk, two gas pellets, eighteen throwing knives, leather armor, and several piosoned darts. It had all been roled up neatly within the fabric, and even the armor, which could bend whth moderate flexibility.

  Presently, the day nearly passed, he walked up to the front gates of the large estate the partu was to be taking place in. He showed the gaurd the expertly similar invitation and was allowed in without question. He enfered the large building set before him after walking through the beautiful courtyard. The door opened up to a very royal and proper ball. Veltiar stared at the expensive suits and dresses that the participents wore. The room was large and at least a hundred people waltzed throughout the place. A single double stairway led up to a balconey, and there stood the target, overwatching the crowd. Bishop Nerwan was fat, the rich-person kind of fat, too. He was dressed in a robe obviously more expensive than the entire worth of the east side.

  It was so easy now, the man stood right there. All Veltiar had to do was take the oppertunity. He pushed his way through the crowd in a fasion that most of them would call rude. He made his way through and went up the carpetted stairway. He didn't care if he wasn't discreat anymore, he just wanted to end the life of this man.

  Veltiar wasn't five feet away from his target when he stopped in his tracks. The biship fell to his knees, a stab wound implanted in his cest, and his blood dripping all over the floor. His hair suddenly pulled up, as if a fist had grabbed it and roughly pulled his face upward. A slash, from ear to ear, suddenly slowly carved its way across his neck, and blood squirted on to some kind of invisable figure. A human outline shown through the blood, and it was looking strait at him. It suddenly leaped at him and kicked Veltiar in the stomach. He huanched over, and the figure slammed its fist into his chin in an uppercut. He fell down and rolled down the stairs. He collided into a statue and it fell, its marbled material shattered into pieces, attracting the attention of the entire crowd. All eyes gaped at the invisable demon, now seemingly made out of blood itself, and so did Veltiar. He wondered if he had finally met his match.