Lifestealer
by Joseph Giddings
Claire carefully folded the towels and put them on the shelf. It was dark in the backroom of the shop, but enough moonlight filtered in through the small windows in the back to let her see. Not that she needed the light. She’d been working in the spa for two years now and knew its layout with her eyes shut.
She ignored the shouting outside, used to the late Saturday evening antics of the boys from the affluent neighborhoods behind the shop. They stirred up whatever trouble their parents could buy them out of. She never feared them and typically they were nice to her when they met. Some even would stop by and walk her to her car, flirting with the boldness only a teenage boy can have. If they wanted to get in her pants, they would to do something more inventive than thinly disguised innuendo and groping hands.
Finished with the towels, she began counting the bottles of perfume and soap, making sure there would be enough inventory for the rest of the weekend. The shouting outside grew louder, and this time she realized it didn’t sound like the normal bantering between posturing males and playing-hard-to-get females. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, making her stop and stand still, her eyes falling on the back door. Dayla had deactivated the security seal when she took out the trash, and never bothered to turn it back on. Claire cursed under her breath, wanting to rush over and turn the seal back on, but tried to calm her normally paranoid reaction. It had been years since she had reason to worry about people getting her.
A loud thump startled her. The report from a lasrifle was very distinctive. Without thinking, she ran across the room to the door, her hand reaching out for the activation panel.
Just as she reached it, the latch pulled and the door pushed inward. She stopped, but the door hit her. Claire fell backward, landing on her bottom and sprawling across the floor. The door clicked shut, and she could hear the gentle hum of the security seal activating. Through her hazy vision, she saw a man dressed in a black overcoat, his hand still on the button. She couldn’t see the seal, but the distinctive low hum vibrated in her ears.
She scrambled away from the man, but stopped when she saw the pistol pointed at her.
“Stop.” His voice was deep and scratchy, and sounded like he was in pain.
Claire stopped moving and nodded. She couldn’t see his face in the shadow of the room, but the pistol in his hand was visible. The overcoat was large, but didn’t hide his large frame or his hands, which gripped a Beren pistol. Lightweight, easily concealed, and extremely powerful, they were the assassin’s weapon of choice, preferred by the ‘Lifestealer’ caste. Outlawed in the system over a hundred years ago, the Lifestealers still carried them, almost daring the government to do something about it.
He looked around the room then turned back to her. “Who else is here?”
“No one,” she said, forcing her voice to sound fearful. “Are. . .you going. . .to kill me?” She didn’t know what he was up to just yet, and she knew that she needed to play along for now.
He raised the gun as if in answer and then dropped to the floor on one knee, groaning. The Beren fell in front of him and his hand went to his chest. Claire propped herself up on her elbows. Blood spatters covered his boots, and more were on the floor under his feet. Slowly, she began to stand.
His hand snatched out at the gun, blood from his fingers splashing across her legs and arms as he grabbed the gun and pointed it at her again. “Don’t move!”
“You’re hurt.”
“No shit.” He stood. The moonlight lit his face for a moment, and she could see that this man was young, maybe close to her own age. Scars covered his face in a pattern she couldn’t make out. His blue eyes looked deep into hers, like he sought understanding of the woman who stood across from him. He coughed, blood staining his lips. “How do I get out of here?”
“Through the front door,” Claire said, pointing toward the door leading back out to the shop. He stood, slowly, and started to move toward the front of the store. “There are cameras and security drones out this time of night. You would be caught immediately. If those rifle shots I heard were aiming at you, I imagine they’re watching everything to see if you show your face.”
He nodded. Turning to the backdoor again, he reached out to push the button on the security seal. Wet, ragged coughing racked his body and he again dropped to his knees. Fear made Claire’s heart pound in her chest, but her desire to help a wounded man grew stronger. She felt certain he was an assassin, but that didn’t mean she could allow him to die. The oath she took said she was obligated to help those in need of her skills.
“Stay where you are!” he yelled at her as she walked toward him.
“Let me look at your wounds,” she said, confident that if he tried anything she could easily overpower him.
“I think I need a doctor.”
“I think you’re right. I may be able to help you.”
“What do you know of medicine?”
“More than you think,” she said, kneeling before him. “This is a spa. I’m the manager and physician here.”
“Physician?”
“Yes, people come here for cleansing and healing. I tend wounds and diagnose illnesses, and then prescribe the appropriate spa or healing methods.”
He stared at her for a moment then lowered the gun. He used his free hand to point to his chest, just left of his heart. She leaned in and looked, noting the rifle shot had narrowly avoiding his heart. A sucking sound came from the wound as he breathed, and she knew immediately that his lung had been punctured. The blood on his lips and around the wound told her that it was filling with blood. Within the hour he would drown in his own blood. She had the resources and ability to fix him, but she kept it to herself.
“Is it fatal?”
“It’s in your lung,” she said. “You need to go to the hospital. They can help, but I’m not properly equipped for that here.” Claire pulled a communicator from her pocket and held it up, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “I can call them if you like. . .”
“No!” he said, pointing the gun at her. His hands wavered, betraying his waning strength. “If you call the police or anyone, I’ll kill you.” He coughed more, the gun lowering and a fresh splatter of blood hitting the floor. Dropping the communicator, Claire’s hand snatched the gun from his hand, spinning it around on her finger and pointing the barrel at him. His eyes grew wide, not believing he had been so easily disarmed.
Her smile faded. “No more of that.” She laid the gun out of his reach. Leaning forward, she grabbed his face in her hands. “You’re a Lifestealer assassin, aren’t you?” she asked, staring into his eyes. He said nothing, his expression unflinching. “Who are you hunting?”
His hand slid into his jacket as she spoke. Claire’s eyes flicked down, watching the movement. Looking back up at him, she fixed a cold and cruel gaze on him. “You pull a knife on me, and I’ll put you through misery you’ve never experienced before.”
The knife slashed outward from the jacket, despite her warning. Her hands slipped free of his face. Claire grabbed his wrist with one hand and removed the knife from his hand with the other. She released his hand and slid her arm around his neck, grabbing his jacket and wrenching it around, slamming him face down onto the floor. Her knees dug into his back, one pressing the wound into the ground. Claire dug the knife into the back of his neck, breaking the skin enough to make a drop of blood well up. The man yelled in pain as she ground his chest wound into the floor.
“Now, can we talk like civilized people?” she asked. Another evil grin appeared. “Or do I need to hurt you a little more?”
“Who are you?” he said through gritted teeth, his voice strained.
Her eyes narrowed. “Let’s just say that I haven’t always been in the healing business.”
“Okay,” he said, then he howled again as she used his back for leverage. She rolled him back over and used the knife to cut away his shirt. A well muscled blood covered chest was revealed, and she could see scars crisscrossing his body. Stopping to admire his body for a moment, she grinned.
Yes, she had a use for him.
“What are you grinning at?” he asked.
“I think you will do nicely.”
“Do nicely for what?”
She laid the knife aside, near the Beren, but still out his reach. “You have a good body.”
“You’ll see.”
Claire picked up the first aid kit from the shelf behind her and opened it. She pulled out a bottle of sterilizer and some gauze.
“What are you doing? You can’t use that sterilizer on a wound like this.” His voice broke and rose in pitch as he tried to drag himself away from her using his elbows.
“Who’s the doctor here? Besides, maybe I’m more interested in making you talk.” She smiled. “I can worry about saving your life later.”
“But, you’re a doctor. . .”
“I took an oath to help the sick and wounded a long time ago. Since then I’ve learned other uses of my art.” He watched as she dabbed the sterilizer on the gauze. He swallowed a lump in his throat.
“Like what?” He howled as she pressed the sterilizer-drenched gauze against his wound. His entire body tensed as he felt fire race into the wound and throughout his body. After a moment, the pain subsided and he glared up at Claire.
“Now,” she said with a cruel grin. “You’ve still to answer my first question.”
“What question is that?”
“Are you a Lifestealer assassin?” His eyes met hers, and she had her answer.
“I cannot confirm that.”
“Why? Because you’ll have to kill me?” She laughed. “Trust me, you can’t kill me. At least, not easily. You are in no shape to fight me, either. Besides, if anyone can keep a secret, it’s me.”
He still didn’t answer her. Claire sighed. “Tell you what. I will give some basic information, and then you do the same. No harm in that, right?” When he remained silent, she sighed. “Or, you can remain silent and I can make sure there is a lot of harm in it.” She paused for a moment. “I’ll start. My name is Claire Rutherford. I come from Earth. I’ve been trained as a physician and a soldier.”
“A soldier?” He grunted. “I was trained as a soldier. You don’t seem like you were an ordinary soldier. You seem to know interrogation techniques, the ones that aren’t officially taught.”
Her eyebrow raised at his comment. Her hand then went to her hip, and her eyes bored into his. “I won’t tell you more until you tell me more.”
“Fine.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to stop a coughing fit. She carefully dabbed at the wound while she listened. “My name is James Trenton. I was born on Earth, raised on Triton. I attended university on Earth. I joined the military after I graduated. From there I entered into government service.”
“Government service?” She laughed. “That’s an interesting way of putting it.”
“Yes, I joined the Intelligence Division.”
“Nice. We may have crossed paths.” She smiled and wet another gauze pad.
“How so?”
“During the Succession War, I joined the military and my medical knowledge was put to use by the ID. Right out of boot camp I went to the Mars prison.”
“You were in Extraction?” A gurgle sound came from this throat and he coughed again, blood splattering against his hand.
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Yes. Gruesome work, but necessary. I could get a man to talk using the most exquisite forms of torture, and keep him alive all the way through.” Claire put down the gauze and put her hands in her lap. “So, there you go, something, I feel, equal in value to the information I want.”
“What?”
“I’m a war criminal, since I served in the Mars Extraction facility,” she said with a snarl. “I was sentenced to death, along with the other ‘Mistresses of Pain.’ After the war we were charged with war crimes for doing what our government wanted us to do. They disavowed any knowledge of their link to us, and left us to suffer. They would’ve lost that fucking war had we not been helping them. Not many of us are left, now, hunted for large bounties and a bit of fame.” She sighed, her face softening for a moment. James sensed a touch of regret in her voice, but it vanished quickly. “You now know I’m wanted. So, I can kill you without feeling too bad about it.”
He thought for a moment, looking at her, trying to decide if he could trust her. “Yes, I’m a Lifestealer.”
Her face grew dark, her cruel smile turning into a frown. “I see.” She jammed the sterilizer into his wound again, making him scream in pain. She held it in place for well over a minute. Once she pulled it away and James had a moment to recover, he saw that her pupils were dilated and her chest rose and fell in short leaps, the hint of a smile curling the corner of her lips.
“Is it true?” she asked.
“Is what true?”
“That you can actually steal the life from someone? Just by touching them? They say you just touch people and draw out their life, leaving them dead without so much as a weapon mark. It’s how you got your name, after all.”
“You can’t believe everything you hear.” He put his head back down on the floor. A towel had been placed there to act as a pillow, but he didn’t remember her getting up to get it. “We’re assassins, not supernatural beings.”
She looked askance at him. “I don’t know, it sounds plausible. There are a lot of things we don’t know about the universe.”
“Well if we can steal lives, I wasn’t given that training.” Claire nodded after a moment. “There’s a story that there used to be a race of creatures that could do that, but they no longer exist.”
“Okay, James, if that if your real name, how do you want to handle this situation you find yourself in? I may be able to help you, but it’s dicey.”
“Dicey?” He looked around the room. “You said you weren’t properly equipped here. Why help me, anyway? You seem more interested in interrogating me.”
“I have my reasons, none of which I plan on sharing at this moment. I may be able to stop that blood flow, but it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”
“How would you do that?”
“A girl can’t go revealing all her secrets now, can she?” She slid closer on her knees and looked down at his face. “You’re going to die if I don’t help you.”
“I am?”
“Yeah, you don’t have time to get to a doctor who cares, so you can either drown in your own blood, or you can let me fix you.”
Something gleamed in her hand, and he saw a pair of surgical scissors reflecting the moonlight streaming in through the window. “What are you going to do?”
“Do you want me to fix you?” she asked, a wicked glint in her eye. “Or do you want to die?”
He never got a chance to answer before she started cutting and he started screaming.
Claire sat in a chair nearby when he opened his eyes. He looked down and saw his chest was sewn shut, and the pain reduced to an ache. Blood covered his chest and the floor.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“I fixed you.”
He looked at her and saw her hands and clothes were covered in blood. Blood splattered on her face as well, making her look even more sinister in the dark. If this was the mask that victims of the Mistresses saw, he could understand why they broke so easily and why they were feared.
Claire stood and walked over to him, putting her foot on his chest to hold him to the floor. Her strength was incredible, holding him down with only one foot. Her heel rested against the sewn flesh, and sharp pains knifed through him making him wince.
“Why did you fix me?”
“Because you won’t be any good to me dead.”
“What are you talking about?”
She dropped to the floor beside him, and took his right hand into her own. “I need your body.” He could feel something familiar radiating from her hand.
“I’m in no position for sex.”
“Not sex, you idiot. I’ve been trapped in this body for three years now. I’m tired of living in this weak frame. My last body was strong and powerful, like yours. Once you are back to full strength, I can walk right into your headquarters, and destroy all of you imposters!”
“Imposters?”
“Yes. Lifestealers,” she said, turning her head to spit on the floor. Her hand gripped his hard enough that he feared she would break it. “You bastards took our name and used it for fear! People know what we can do! We spent thousands of years without a single person knowing who we are. Now we have to hide and carefully ply our art. No more creatures of myth and legend that inspire fear, we are now just regarded as lowly assassins. We were so much more!”
James sat up abruptly, faster than she expected, pushing her back. “Is that so?” Claire looked into his eyes and realized, too late, that she was in trouble as his own hand tightened against hers, matching her strength with his own. “Maybe you should re-evaluate that position.” A competing energy flowed from his hand into hers, and she struggled to keep him back.
“You’re a true Lifestealer?” A wry grin cracked her face.
“Oh yes,” he said, getting to his feet and pulling her up with him. “I was sent here to find you, Blood Mistress.” He chuckled. “New body or not, we can find you. No one knew you were a true Lifestealer, though. This is a pleasing discovery.”
“You won’t take me!” She struggled to break free of his hand, but couldn’t. He laughed as she felt the energy in his hand pushing up her arm. Claire struggled to protect her heart, for once he reached there with his power, he could draw her life out or replace her soul with his own. With a sheer force of will, she pushed back, seeking to push her soul into his own body and eject his. She wanted his life, and she was going to steal it, regardless of the cost.
“I will take whatever I want,” he said calmly, focusing his power on her.
“No!” She pushed her power through her own hand into his, trying to reach his heart.
Searing pain tore through her as their powers collided, and the world flashed bright and hot.
Two figures lay flat against the top of a nearby hill, watching the rescue workers deal with the destruction of the spa. The owner had just arrived to assess the damage. From what they could see, the rescue workers were combing the wreckage looking for the spa’s manager, whom they suspected was in the shop at the time of the explosion. Her car still sat parked at the far end of the parking lot, untouched by the chaos. A crowd of rich boys and their girlfriends stood beyond a police barricade, watching the spectacle.
One of the figures on the hill, a male, huffed and looked at the other, a female.
“Now what do we do?” asked James/Claire, the male.
“I don’t know,” said Claire/James, the female. “You’re the idiot that split our souls.”
“Me?” He frowned. “You’re the one who pushed everything you had back at me. Only an amateur does something stupid like that. I just wanted to replace enough of your life with my own to hold you captive until I could get you back to the ID.”
“I thought you were going to kill me!” She rolled over and looked down at her clothes, blackened and charred from the fire they escaped. James/Claire’s clothing didn’t look any better. Claire/James looked up at the stars. “I guess we need to figure out how to get out of this predicament. Since we’re both Claire, both of us are guilty of war crimes, now. And since we’re both James, we’re both beholden to the assassin’s caste at ID. On top of that, neither of us know what will happen if one of us dies, so we can’t kill each other.”
“I’d rather not find out what happens.” James/Claire rolled over and looked up at the sky, pointing at distant Jupiter. “I heard there’s a shaman on Callisto that is a true Lifestealer. Supposed to be several thousand years old. Maybe he knows how to fix us. This has to have happened before.”
“Couldn’t hurt to try.” Claire/James stood. “We better find somewhere to get some clothes and clean up.” With a mischievous grin, she pinched her leg hard enough to turn the skin white.
James/Claire yelped. “Would you stop that!” He held his leg in the same spot she had pinched hers.
Claire smiled. This trip to Callisto was going to be fun.
Joseph spends his days performing feats of heroism as an IT guru in Winterville, NC. At night he’s a superhero to his wife and three year old son. When he’s not saving the world from crashed hard drives and rescuing lost toy pickup trucks, he’s playing video games, watching TV, reading, writing, or defending his vegetable garden with his spear and magic helmet. Joseph’s fiction has been published in Golden Visions Magazine and Indigo Rising Magazine, and his review work appears in print in Bull Spec Magazine and online at Rise Reviews and Tangent Online.
“I’m in no position for sex.”
That line cracks me up.
Good job. Keep it up!