Long story short, she was good at what she did. Not the best, that was true… but damn good. And Caina had found herself with plenty of job offers over the years, killing mostly galdor but also the occasional human or wick. If it paid well, and the client had a good reason, Caina would always accept it.
On this occasion, she owed her client a favor. Ava Weaver had, several weeks ago, allowed Caina access to her shop in order to meet a ‘business associate’. Ava had declined Caina’s offer of money, but instead gave Caina a job. Ava had been hurt by a galdor- to what extent, Caina didn’t know- and he was trying to hurt her again. Caina could relate. She’d been quick to accept, and had spent the few days after quietly stalking this ‘Anatole Vauquelin’. For some reason, the Incumbent liked to frequent the Dives. How he managed to not get the absolute shit beaten out of him each time, Caina didn’t know. She refused to get close enough to feel his field, only watched. And the man was terribly predictable. So after a few days, Caina made her move. And now here she was, quietly trailing after a galdor that was the same damn height as her. At least the fight would be well matched. She’d fought against magic quite a few times, and could likely handle whatever this man threw at her. With any luck, the fight would end with only a few scrapes, and she could be in bed before dawn.
Tonight was like any night in The Dives. Dark, quiet, but with an unmistakable air of danger. Caina was the cause of that danger tonight, and she loved it. She loved knowing that no one could touch her, that she was like a ghost- by the time the moon set, she’d disappear.
Anatole had left one of the bars, and was making his way back to the galdor part of town. He was about 20 yards ahead of her. In a few minutes, she’d overcome him, and then…
Somewhere, a dog barked. Caina flinched, that irrational fear still taking hold over her base instincts. Her foot slipped, and she stumbled on the stones- making a quiet scuffle that wouldn’t raise any alarms, unless you were already listening.
Unfortunately, the drunk galdor apparently had some sense, because he turned, took one look at Caina, and started running. Caina cursed under her breath and took off after him. He had the lead, but it was obvious that Anatole didn’t exercise much. He was huffing and puffing as he went, and Caina was quick to catch up to him. The little man managed to duck into an alley, and Caina flew in after him.
She grabbed him by the shoulder, jerking Anatole back to stop his running and knock him off balance. As he stumbled, Caina used one hand to grab him by the neck, shoving him up against the wall. She pulled a knife and pressed it against his throat. It was older than she was, maybe older than Anatole, but Caina held it with a fluid grace- as if the blade was an extension of her arm.
Like she did for the rest of her jobs, Caina wore a hooded cloak cut from an off-black fabric. Her pants and shirt were the same- the only part of her not hidden in shade were her bare feet, which seemed pale in comparison to the rest of her. When Anatole looked at her, he would see simply a figure in black, and maybe a curved knife against his throat. If he managed to survive this encounter, which Caina doubted that he would, then the galdor would likely believe that Death itself had come for him. It was a compliment that Caina had received before, from the few who escaped her blade.