Flash Fiction No. 32


Should Have Sent The Monkeys

Flying monkeys weren’t her thing.

She was almost offended when he’d suggested them, but what did mortals know? Nothing. That’s what. They thought everything was black and white. They thought the lines didn’t blur.

Of course they blurred. Blurring lines was what humanity was all about. They made rules for the soul purpose of breaking them.

She held her nose as the smoke from the candle wafted around the room in the semi-dark. The smell of burning always made her want to vomit. It was like it was taking her back to that night when those putrid mortals had come looking for fun. Her eyes flickered over the mirror, trying to ignore the scars that ran down the side of her face.

Flying monkeys indeed!

For a moment she had contemplated filling his nightmares with flying monkeys to teach him a lesson, but then she’d remembered that she was above that. Besides, he was paying her. It wasn’t much, but times were hard and fifty thousand would just have to do. Even she could spare a mortal when cash was involved.

Living hundreds of years took its toll on expenses. And that’s not mentioning how much it costs to renew fake IDs.

She left the flat and walked the short stretch to the towering building. It gleamed with shuttered glass and steel. This would be too easy.

The bow nestled under her arm beneath the protection of her enchanted coat. There was no way the mortals would suspect anything. They wouldn’t even know that she had the arrows slipped carefully up her sleeve for fast release. That was the best thing about her job. The combination of magic and weapons just made it all worthwhile.

She snorted, standing in the lift on her own. Flying monkeys. He needed to go back to Oz.

The elevator released her onto grey carpeted floors and bland corridors. She headed for the board room. She glanced at her watch and gave herself five minutes. The doors opened. Five minutes and five seconds later all of the board members were lying on the floor with arrows protruding from their chests.

She glanced down at her time and sighed. It was a little over, but that was because of stiff number three. For a moment he’d been too pretty to kill, but times change.

She flicked out her hair and stepped down the corridor, amused by the sense of silence that always finished her work. The staff would barely have registered her thanks to her diversionary spell, making them forget to look at her.

Something clicked close to her head.

Her pupils dilated. That was a magnum. The cold metal pushed against her scalp. She felt her fists bunch. This was not happening.

“Should have sent the monkeys,” he muttered., voice curling close to her ear.

Now she remembered where she’d heard his voice before. Now she knew why he’d come to her and how he’d found her so easily.

“Bag her.”

She kicked and fought, feeling nothing but pain as they bound her ready for their ‘institute’. They told everybody the patients mentally unstable. They said the drugs were to help cure them. But they weren’t trying to cure psychosis.

They were trying to cure the preternatural.

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