Tulah unlocked the middle drawer of her desk and pulled it out. She unlocked a second compartment, underneath the false bottom of the drawer, and she tucked the envelope inside it. Tulah withdrew its only other contents: a folded piece of hotel stationary. She locked the drawers back up and held the crumpled slip of paper greedily between her fingers. On it was the name of the man George Kingfisher wanted dead. His proposition to her was very clear. The Eagle was dying of pancreatic cancer and would not survive to the next Recompense. If Sister Tulah fulfilled her task, the Mark of the Angel and the seat on the Inner Council would be hers.
Tulah smiled. She would ravage the man and more. She would ravage his kin. Especially his kin. She would steal the last breath from each and every one of them and they would all ride the pale horse home. Sister Tulah opened the folded paper and let her eyes fall on the two words written in a beautiful, delicate hand:
Levi Cannon
It was time to reap what had been sown. It was time indeed.
END
The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in an entirely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Steph Post
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