Vixen paused at the top of the stairwell. While performing this job would give her valuable experience, her superiors in the Shadowblade would not be happy with her if she removed the wrong person. Her arm itched at the thought, and she rubbed it ruefully. The long scar that ran across her bicep had never properly healed – a reminder of the last time she had fluffed a mission.
She took a small box from her inside pocket and opened it, squinting to see the contents in the almost perfect darkness. The contact lens – just one – contained enough microscopic circuitry to simulate the effect of a sight spell and would enable her to see creatures not normally visible to the mortal eye.
Blinking as the lens slid over her eyeball, she looked up to see a woman watching her impassively. “Shit!” she said, slamming backwards into the wall, mentally kicking herself for forgetting that such an important person as her target would be bound to have supernatural protection.
The woman was dressed in ancient clothes; homespun cloth and hair tied into a lace cap. A ghost, then, and harmless despite the wicked looking carving knife at her belt. Ghosts couldn’t affect the living. It was saying something, but vixen had no way of hearing the voices of the dead; not without investing in some serious charms. She took a last glance and moved towards the stairs again.
It was only her reflexes that saved her from the carving knife that slammed into the wall an inch from her face.
© Rachel Green 2007