Chrysanthemum Montgomery: the baddest bitch on any side of any river. Period. Full stop. She lounged into the bar, a goon on each arm. She dripped danger, oozed glamour, and fixed every eye upon her without the need for any kind of magic.<\/p>\n
For a moment, the song flew from my mind, and there was nothing but Chrysanthemum, spotlighted in the doorway, a crime queen entering stage left.<\/p>\n
Come on, Betty, keep your cool. You\u2019re just the music, hired strings. You ain\u2019t got no business knowin\u2019 who that lady is, just play your Baby, croon your tune. Lull the mood. Don\u2019t let nobody know you\u2019re here to kill Montgomery.<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes, finished the song with what I hoped was the same gusto I started it. The applause was more than we\u2019d earned all night, and I took a bow with my beautiful upright bass \u2013 my Baby \u2013 swirling at my side, so she too could get her due.<\/p>\n
It was Angelica\u2019s turn to belt out a ballad. She shot me a wink, smiling as we shuffled into place, me and my Baby at the back, holding down the beat, she in front, boom-chucking on her guitar while sweet alto melody slipped \u2018cross her lips into the inebriated air.<\/p>\n
Carla had closed her eyes, finally finding some semblance of unity as she coaxed fills out of her fiddle. I eased into the background, just where I liked to hang, letting my eyes rove over the audience, who gradually grew more attentive as the night drifted on. I tried not to stare at Chrysanthemum any longer than any of the rest, but it was mighty hard not to stare. Not just cuz she was the mark, our golden goose, our ticket to a cush gig with the Agency (or a walk in the river with concrete shoes, if we failed). She was gorgeous.<\/p>\n
I waited for a clear shot from the stage to the booth where she sat, martini held in an effortlessly elegant hand. But the air between my eyes and hers blurred frequently with patrons passing to the bar, by waitstaff selling their service for the hope of plump tips, by bickering couples cutting date night short. Our set ended with Chrysanthemum Montgomery still very much alive and applauding us with a jangle of bangles and a glint of rings.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll be back in fifteen minutes with another set,\u201d Carla said into the mic while Angelica wiped down her strings. \u201cFeel free to come up and say howdy. We\u2019ll be at our merch table.\u201d She pointed to the little folding card table we\u2019d outfitted with a thrift-store suitcase to display our wares: CDs, T-shirts, bumper stickers, ball caps.<\/p>\n
I spun and dipped my Baby onto her side and slid the footpeg in so no one could trip over it. No god could save the soul who broke my Baby\u2019s bridge. I was gulping down water when one of Chrysanthemum\u2019s goons hopped up on stage, a spread of muscle thinly veiled under white cotton and blue denim.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you want merch, I\u2019ll be right there.\u201d I tried not to show the mix of peeved and scared at war behind my eyes: did Chrysanthemum know she was marked?<\/p>\n
\u201cMamma C wants a word.\u201d Mr. Muscles jerked a thumb over his shoulder at his boss, who tilted her head, smiled, and gave me a delicious little finger wave when she saw me looking.<\/p>\n
\u201cSure.\u201d I gulped. We were blown. This night wasn\u2019t gonna end with us making pay dirt and a contract, but with our brains minced across the back alley, and our instruments disintegrated on the asphalt.<\/p>\n
I followed Mr. Muscles, trying not to piss my tights. Relax. Just relax. You\u2019re a badass bass player. You\u2019re a sonomancer. What have you got to fear?<\/p>\n
Angelica cast me a worried glance from the bar where she waited to collect our free beers. I gave her the tiniest shrug and shook my head. Stand by, sister. I don\u2019t know what\u2019s up just yet.<\/p>\n
Mr. Muscles deposited me in front of Chrysanthemum\u2019s table and slouched back into his place as one of his boss\u2019s bookends. \u201cMs. Betty, right?\u201d Chrysanthemum extended one of her hands with its long dainty fingers perfect for gouging out eyes. \u201cYou can call me Mamma C.\u201d<\/p>\n
I fought the urge to curtsey over that hand and gave it what I hoped was a standard, not-at-all-nervous shake. \u201cPleasure,\u201d I managed through a closing throat. \u201cHow\u2019re you enjoying your evening?\u201d<\/p>\n
She smiled, dropping my hand, and if I hadn\u2019t been so scared shitless, I might have swooned right then and there. God, her teeth were pretty. And those eyes. Man. I could\u2019ve stared into those eyes until eternity came and tapped me on the shoulder to tell me time was up.<\/p>\n
\u201cY\u2019all are fantastic,\u201d said Mamma C. \u201cTop notch. I love me some lady song-slingers.\u201d She seemed to mean it, the smile crinkling the corners of her eyes, which only made them more transfixing.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you,\u201d Only long practice at accepting bullshit compliments from drunk dudes tryin\u2019 to land themselves in my pants kept me from blushing like a schoolgirl at the genuine, bona fide compliment she\u2019d paid me. \u201cI\u2019m glad you\u2019re havin\u2019 a good time.\u201d Thinking that was all she wanted to say, I turned to head back to supervising the sale of merch, but a butter-warm, silk-soft hand tightened on my arm, like a python constricting her prey.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust a minute,\u201d said Mamma C. \u201cI was wondering if y\u2019all are free next Saturday. I\u2019m throwin\u2019 a party and my band canceled on me.\u201d She pouted, and it was all I could do to keep from biting my lip.<\/p>\n
\u201cNext Saturday?\u201d I asked, voice shooting up an octave while I found where my scattered thoughts had gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cMmm hmm.\u201d<\/p>\n
Did they turn up the heat in here, or was it just me? \u201cYeah, yeah, we\u2019re free.\u201d We weren\u2019t but how could we turn down the chance to make private party money? And, it\u2019d be the perfect cover for completing our contract: one bird, two paychecks. Easy, right? We\u2019d just give the Agency a little call, explain the situation. It wasn\u2019t like we\u2019d blow the kill; we\u2019d just postpone it.<\/p>\n
It\u2019d be fine.<\/p>\n
\u201cPerfect,\u201d Mamma C smiled that lazy predatory smile that promised to eat me all the way up. \u201cDo you have a card? I\u2019ll email you the details.\u201d<\/p>\n
My cold limp fingers somehow managed to slip into my dress pocket, scrounged past the digital tuner and the rosin to the stack of business cards I\u2019d miraculously managed to load in there. \u201cHere you go.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks.\u201d Another smile, and I could finally make my retreat.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe heck was that all about?\u201d Carla whispered in my ear as Angelica handed me my beer.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe need to cancel that bar gig next Saturday.\u201d My hands seeped sweat, and no amount of thigh-rubbing seemed to dry them. \u201cMamma C wants us to play a party for her.\u201d<\/p>\n
My band sisters blinked at me. \u201cBut the contract?\u201d Carla asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe ask Vasili and the Agency for an extension,\u201d I said. \u201cThis is a big gig. We slay it, and who knows how many of Mamma C\u2019s fancy friends will want to hire us next?\u201d Whether as assassins or musicians didn\u2019t matter much; a paying gig was a paying gig.<\/p>\n
Carla crossed her arms. \u201cMamma C, is it now?\u201d Her frown intensified from concern to girl-you\u2019ve-gone-crazy. \u201cYou\u2019re not getting cold feet at the prospect of blasting a pretty face, now are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
I shook my head, perhaps a little too vehemently. \u201cNo, this is strictly about the exposure.\u201d<\/p>\n
Carla snorted. \u201cYou know what they say about exposure, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
I waved the clich\u00e9 away. \u201cYeah, yeah. This ain\u2019t some coffee house gig where they pay in doughnuts and drink cards. This is a fancy-ass house party where all the up and ups in organized crime will be watching us. Plus, Mamma C pays good.\u201d I didn\u2019t know that, but a lady who could afford that manicure could afford to shell out for a band.<\/p>\n
\u201cFine,\u201d said Carla. \u201cBut you get to tell Vasili.\u201d Her finger hung in the air before my nose, a symbol of her seriousness. \u201cAnd update the Agency.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded, and we began our second set.
\n<\/p>\n
The morning after, I was about half-way down the block from our tiny, shared apartment to a little corner caf\u00e9 that did the most perfect sunny-side-up eggs in all existence when a heavy shadow sidled up on my left, attached to a heavy man. I looked up. Shit! It was one of Vasili\u2019s guys, the one with the mustache that could\u2019ve starred in its own one-mustache show. \u201cVasili\u2019s not very happy with you.\u201d He had a fist in the air, and it came down fast. Too fast. I couldn\u2019t even wet my lips to try to whistle myself a shield. Damn dry mouth.<\/p>\n
The fist descended and pain blossomed in my temple. Shit. Shit. Shit.<\/p>\n
Everything went dark.<\/p>\n
I came to tied to a chair by my wrists and ankles, a gag stuffed in my mouth. An exposed lightbulb hung from the ceiling, spotlighting me and a small circle of concrete floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cLooks like she\u2019s awake, boss,\u201d said a voice from the dark.<\/p>\n
I ain\u2019t awake enough for this shit.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood, good.\u201d I knew that voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cVasili,\u201d I tried to say, but stupid me, I was gagged.<\/p>\n
Footsteps echoed closer across the concrete. Feet entered my spotlight, attached to short stubby legs and a barrel-chested torso, topped off by a balding head. Vasili frowned at me. \u201cMiss Betty, my apologies for meeting in this manner, but I thought it best to take precautions.\u201d<\/p>\n
What did he think I was going to do, kill the guy who was going to pay my way into the Agency? But I couldn\u2019t make a snappy reply cuz of the god-damned gag, so I shrugged, even though it sent the ropes around my wrists digging into my skin.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not best pleased with you and your bandmates, Miss Betty,\u201d Vasili continued. \u201cAs I was taking my walk this morning, collecting my thoughts, preparing for a beautiful day, who should I see but Chrysanthemum Montgomery walking across the street from me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTake this gag out, and I\u2019ll explain,\u201d I tried to say, but again, there was that stupid gag, and all that came out of my mouth were grunts that seemed weirdly desperate, like I was trying to plead with him or something.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow.\u201d Vasili leaned closer, bringing the strong cedar scent of his cologne with him. \u201cI\u2019m sure I don\u2019t need to tell you what will happen to you and your bandmates for failing to complete your assignment.\u201d<\/p>\n
Shit. Was he gonna kill me? But no. We had three tries to complete the Agency\u2019s entrance test. Vasili knew that, right? I tried to stay calm sitting tied up in this chair, but damn, was it hard. Usually, I had sound on my side, but the gag made me just another girl, not a sonomancer powerful enough to level a man with a hum and a whistle. I managed to growl at Vasili through the gag. I couldn\u2019t put any power into that faint sound, but it came out menacing enough that Vasili jumped back, taking his cedar scent with him.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow, now,\u201d Vasili said, trying to regain his composure by straightening his jacket and filling his voice with condescension. \u201cDon\u2019t you try any of that sound magic on me, Miss Betty. I\u2019ve got sonomancers of my own singing up a pretty forcefield for me right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
I frowned. If he had sonomancers on his payroll, why did he hire us to kill Chrysanthemum Montgomery? Probably so the hit couldn\u2019t be traced back to him. That was the nice thing about the Agency, after all: a cushion of deniability.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow, if you agree to play nice, I\u2019m going to remove this gag, and we can talk about things like adults,\u201d said the man who\u2019d used his goons to kidnap me off the sidewalk and had me tied to a chair.<\/p>\n
I rolled my eyes, couldn\u2019t help it.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre we agreed?\u201d<\/p>\n
I shrugged, and again the ropes cut into my wrists.<\/p>\n
\u201cNod, if you agree.\u201d<\/p>\n
God, this guy was a control freak. I rolled my eyes and nodded, and Vasili directed one of his muscle men to take out my gag. He approached warily as though I could do anything to hurt him in my present state. Didn\u2019t he know he could kill me right now? I tried not to let that thought show in my eyes as the goon untied the gag, and I spat out the rag. \u201cNext time, Vasili, I recommend a clean gag. That thing tastes like turpentine.\u201d Miracle of miracles, my voice was calm and relaxed. This was just another performance, after all. I used my nerves to feed my bravery.<\/p>\n
Vasili raised a near-invisible eyebrow. \u201cI\u2019ll take that under consideration, Miss Betty.\u201d He looked at me a moment longer as though he wasn\u2019t quite sure how to proceed since his scare tactics didn\u2019t seem to work on me. Little did he know, I was about to piss myself.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you want, Vasili?\u201d I asked, trying to take control of the conversation. \u201cAgency rules give us three chances to take out the target. Last night was a bust. Couldn\u2019t get a clear shot, but we\u2019ve got another chance on Saturday. The perfect chance.\u201d<\/p>\n
Whatever Vasili had been going to say seemed to slip out of his mind as I spoke. \u201cYou\u2019re more resourceful than I gave you credit for, Miss Betty.\u201d<\/p>\n
Or more easily distracted by a pretty face. I kept that thought out of my eyes, though. \u201cThe mark liked our show so much that she\u2019s hired us to play a private party on Saturday.\u201d<\/p>\n
Vasili\u2019s eyes widened in shock. \u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n
I narrowed my gaze. \u201cWould I make this shit up when you\u2019ve got me tied to a chair, Vasili?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI suppose not.\u201d He seemed to relax, tension draining from his rounded shoulders. \u201cIt appears this was an unnecessary course of action.\u201d He waved towards my chair-tied body. \u201cUntie her.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stiffened. Was this it? Would he really let me go, just like that?<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s true, you have two more chances, by Agency rules,\u201d Vasili said as I rubbed my newly freed wrists. \u201cBut I am not the Agency, Miss Betty. If Chrysanthemum Montgomery still breathes after Saturday night, I will come for you and your bandmates, and I will not be nearly so courteous.\u201d<\/p>\n
A week later, I hauled my Baby through the staff entrance of Chrysanthemum Montgomery\u2019s massive house, trailing after my less-weighed-down bandmates to the room Mamma C set aside as our green room. The lady herself entered as we removed our instruments from their cases, clothed in gold lame that snaked around her like a Midas-touched river.<\/p>\n
\u201cI hope everything\u2019s to your satisfaction, ladies,\u201d Mamma C said. \u201cI\u2019d just like a word before I turn you over to the sound man.\u201d<\/p>\n
What could she have to say? Please don\u2019t let it be any special requests. We had a tight set; we didn\u2019t need a special request throwing a wrench in our flow.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know who you are, ladies,\u201d Mamma C continued.<\/p>\n
Well, of course, she did. She\u2019d hired us to play for her. Why would she say that?<\/p>\n
\u201cI know Vasili sent you to kill me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Damn it. Where\u2019d all the air go? I could have sworn the room was full of it, but I couldn\u2019t breathe. I couldn\u2019t hum to save my life. My throat was dry, closed; I\u2019d swallowed an entire desert. From their sheet-ghost complexions, Carla and Angelica were in the same state of brain-dead panic as me.<\/p>\n
Mamma C smiled. Was it supposed to be reassuring or terrifying? My knees went weak. \u201cY\u2019all have a choice.\u201d Mamma C cracked her knuckles. \u201cAdmit the truth and deal with me, or I kill you now.\u201d She was just the kind of lady who could follow through with that threat; I didn\u2019t doubt that at all. Damnit, why was she so pretty, though?<\/p>\n
\u201cDeal?\u201d I asked, somehow my voice found its way through all that sand and panic.<\/p>\n
\u201cVasili has been a thorn in my side for years. I want him removed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou want us to break our contract with Vasili?\u201d I asked. What would that do to our reputations? Who would hire a group of assassins that might turn around and kill them instead of the intended target? And what about joining the Agency?<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll pay double what Vasili\u2019s paying you.\u201d Mamma C smiled. \u201cAnd I\u2019ll give you a glowing recommendation for your entrance into the Agency.\u201d<\/p>\n
I locked eyes with Carla and Angelica, struggling not to whistle in awe. Double was very generous indeed, not to mention that a recommendation from Mamma C would set us up for life. But my mamma told me never to take the first offer, and did Mamma C have enough pull with the Agency to keep us from getting killed? I set my jaw, peeled my eyes away from my stupefied bandmates, and said, \u201cHire us full time.\u201d I didn\u2019t think about it. It just popped out, like all my best ideas.<\/p>\n
Mamma C\u2019s eyes widened in surprise. \u201cAs what, the entertainment? Ladies, y\u2019all are good, but not live-in band good.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAs enforcers,\u201d I said, building bricks of confidence out of the sand in my throat. \u201cThink about it, what could you do with three top-notch lady sonomancers on your payroll?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mamma C got a look in her eye like she liked where this was going.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe kill Vasili, and you openly acknowledge us as yours,\u201d I said, throwing words at the wall and hoping they stuck. The Agency wouldn\u2019t interfere with a boss\u2019s people, not even if we failed their test. Them\u2019s were the rules. \u201cWe can spin it like we\u2019ve been in your employ the whole time. Like you set Vasili up, that\u2019ll keep the Agency off our asses.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mamma C grinned. \u201cI knew there was a reason I liked you, Ms. Betty.\u201d She patted my shoulder, and a tingle spread through my body. \u201cAlright, ladies. I like it. Kill Vasili, and I\u2019ll set you up.\u201d With that, she turned and waltzed out of the room as if she hadn\u2019t just ordered a hit.<\/p>\n
Carla and Angelica let loose a shared held breath.<\/p>\n
\u201cShit,\u201d said Angelica.<\/p>\n
Carla fell into a leather armchair. \u201cWhat have we gotten ourselves into?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMoney.\u201d I squatted in front of her and took her hands. I hoped she believed that I believed what I said. \u201cAnd security. Think about it. How cool will it be, working for a badass queen like Chrysanthemum Montgomery?\u201d<\/p>\n
A grin cracked Angelica\u2019s lips. \u201cPretty cool.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut the Agency\u2026\u201d Carla stammered. \u201cCan we trust her to keep \u2018em off our backs?\u201d<\/p>\n
I shrugged. \u201cThere\u2019s no turning back now. Either we trust her, or she kills us.\u201d<\/p>\n
The crowd was poppin\u2019. They actually listened \u2013 a fantastic change of pace \u2013 and they danced \u2013 even better. It was such a rush, playing to a receptive crowd, like drinking lightning, like dancing through fire.<\/p>\n
We were having so much fun playing that we almost forgot the real reason we were there until Vasili elbowed his burly way through the crowd to shuffle-dance directly in front of the stage. I grinned down at him. Couldn\u2019t have lined up a more perfect shot.<\/p>\n
I shifted my playing, swinging the beat \u2013 our signal to go for the kill. Carla nodded, throwing in some fiddle ornamentation to show her understanding. Angelica finished her vocal with a flourish on the guitar, and then we sank into the sound. Our bodies melted away, and we were one with each other, with the music, with the intent to kill. Who needed telepathy when we had music?<\/p>\n
The rumble of the low E, the high treble of the fiddle, the brassy belt of the guitar, they wound around each other and blasted forward in a ball of malice that crashed into Vasili and through his chest: our will made manifest, carried on waves of sound.<\/p>\n
Blood spurted up like thrown confetti.<\/p>\n
Screams filled the crowd.<\/p>\n
Vasili collapsed.<\/p>\n
The final rumble of the bass note died, and we took a bow.<\/p>\n
A single clap cut through the chaos, and Mamma C glided towards us through the crowd, a golden serpent closing in on Vasili\u2019s swiss-cheesed corpse. \u201cWell done, ladies.\u201d She applauded, and the high of a job done well rushed through me, or maybe it was just her telling me I\u2019d done well. \u201cWell done, indeed.\u201d<\/p>\n
I broke away from those bewitching eyes and exchanged glances with Carla and Angelica. We\u2019d done it. We were in the big leagues now. There was red on Carla\u2019s cheek, in Angelica\u2019s hair, spots of blood misting in the air, the heavy scent of iron.<\/p>\n
We\u2019d done it.<\/p>\n
A sound filled the air, like popcorn popping, like a car back-firing, like the slap of boards breaking. Carla fell. Her eyes so wide and confused, and between them, a small red hole.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat the \u2013 .\u201d but Angelica didn\u2019t get to finish. That popping sound kept on, and her throat burst red, and then she fell. Falling back and back and I couldn\u2019t move. I couldn\u2019t reach out to stop her fall.<\/p>\n
My Baby rumbled in my grip. There were great, jagged holes torn through her carved front. How?<\/p>\n
And then it hit me; that sound \u2013 it wasn\u2019t popcorn, or a car, or boards \u2013 it was gunfire.<\/p>\n
Carla was on the ground, bleeding out, and I couldn\u2019t see Angelica.<\/p>\n
They shot my bass. Those double-crossing assholes shot my fucking Baby.<\/p>\n
A growl built in my throat \u2013 a scream. I\u2019d make her pay for what she\u2019d done, pretty face or no. I slapped my fingers to the strings. I didn\u2019t even know what I was playing. It didn\u2019t make sense, followed no theory or progression. I played out my pain in pizzicato.<\/p>\n
My fingers bled.<\/p>\n
Mamma C\u2019s eyes widened in shock. \u201cStop her.\u201d<\/p>\n
I poured myself into the notes, and the bullets bounced off a sonomanced barrier. And then the shots stopped flying, all out. I sent out a blast of sound, knocking the crowd off their feet, leveling all the furniture in the room.<\/p>\n
Mamma C staggered in front of the stage. Her gold lame now red, those pretty eyes fixed on me. \u201cIt\u2019s all business,\u201d she wheezed.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t speak, not with words. Damn me for being so easily distracted. I tore at my Baby\u2019s strings, pouring all my pain into a cacophony that leaped across the distance between us. The wall of sound rammed into Mamma C\u2019s body, and she fell. Shattered.<\/p>\n
The room, so loud a moment before, fell quiet. Still.<\/p>\n
I clung to my Baby as I panted into that silence. Damn it. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Carla, Angelica.\u201d I didn\u2019t have time for more than that.<\/p>\n
A great groan filled the room, and a portion of the ceiling crashed onto the party guests\u2019 sound-flattened corpses.<\/p>\n
The house was falling down.<\/p>\n
I heaved my Baby up into my arms, and I ran. Me and my bass, I ran as Mamma C\u2019s house fell down around her perfect, shell-shaped ears.<\/p>\n
Fuck. What happened?<\/p>\n
Carla.<\/p>\n
Angelica.<\/p>\n
There was no way they\u2019d survived. I couldn\u2019t turn back. All I could do was run because if anyone was still alive in that ballroom, they\u2019d come for me.<\/p>\n
I made it to the car, hauled my Baby into the back. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Baby.\u201d I stroked her splintered front. \u201cI\u2019ll make it better, I promise.\u201d If not for my Baby, I would have been dead, full of bullet holes just like my song sisters. I owed her, my only living sister.<\/p>\n
I put the car in gear, sped back to our apartment.<\/p>\n
I had to pack. I had to run.<\/p>\n
The Agency \u2013 they\u2019d come for me now. They\u2019d kill me if they caught me. I couldn\u2019t stop moving or crying or shaking.<\/p>\n
I threw open the door to our apartment, tears blurring the space that ought to have been so familiar to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou got here quick, Miss Betty.\u201d<\/p>\n
I froze. I didn\u2019t know that voice, sweet in a poisoned way, like arsenic-laced honey.<\/p>\n
I wiped the blood and tears out of my eyes. \u201cWho\u2019s there?\u201d<\/p>\n
She was tall, wore a dark suit and a rakishly tilted hat over red hair trimmed neat to her ears. \u201cMy name doesn\u2019t matter, Miss Betty,\u201d she said, reaching a hand into the inner breast pocket of her suit.<\/p>\n
I flinched. Had she come to kill me?<\/p>\n
\u201cRelax.\u201d A smile shifted the left corner of her mouth upwards. \u201cI\u2019m not here to kill you. I\u2019m here to give you your contract.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d I stared at her, mind too blank to function. \u201cContract?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCongratulations, Betty, you\u2019ve earned your place in the Agency.\u201d The smile found its way to the right side of her mouth and up into her eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe Agency?\u201d I frowned. \u201cBut\u2026\u201d I did fulfill the contract. Mamma C was dead. I knew that much. I\u2019d filled her gold-swathed body so full of holes, there was no way she could have lived. Tears streaked their searing way down my cheeks. \u201cI don\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s there to understand, Betty?\u201d She handed me a crisp envelope that carried the Agency\u2019s seal: a sword crossed with a quarter note. \u201cYou fulfilled not one but two contracts in one fell swoop. It\u2019s a shame about your bandmates, but fiddles and guitars are a dime a dozen. It\u2019s hard to find a talented bass player these days.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean two contracts? Our test was the contract for Vasili.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd then Chrysanthemum Montgomery approached us seeking a hit on Vasili,\u201d she said. \u201cWe figured that we\u2019d let her use your band to see how you\u2019d handle the situation.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at her. Anger filled my chest, hot as the tears on my cheeks. \u201cYou set us up. My friends are dead because of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
She shrugged. \u201cMamma C would have killed you all if you hadn\u2019t killed Vasili. Vasili would have killed you if you hadn\u2019t killed Mamma C. We would have killed you if you\u2019d failed to kill either or both. I say the odds were against you and your friends. You should feel lucky that you beat the odds, Betty.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFunny.\u201d My fist tightened around the envelope. \u201cI ain\u2019t feeling too lucky right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
The Agency representative shrugged again, shoved her hands deep into her pockets. \u201cHow you feel isn\u2019t my problem. You\u2019ve got a bright future with the Agency, Miss Betty. Don\u2019t throw away the chance you\u2019ve worked so hard to get.\u201d<\/p>\n
And then she left, and I was all alone in my too empty apartment.<\/p>\n
I sank to the floor and stared at the envelope in my hands: my contract. I was officially a sonomancer for the Agency now. Dream achieved.<\/p>\n
A sob cut through the empty silence. What do I do now, huh? What\u2019s a bass player without a band? <\/p>\n
Emily Randolph-Epstein was raised by a pack of wild poodles in small-town USA. She spent her childhood LARPing, reading fantasy novels, and writing Tamora Pierce fan fiction. After failing most enthusiastically to grow up, she is now an award-winning writer and musician living in Perth, Western Australia with her husband and dog. Her short fiction has been published in Dark Matter Magazine, Zooscape, and Infinite Worlds Magazine.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Chrysanthemum Montgomery: the baddest bitch on any side of any river. Period. Full stop. She lounged into the bar, a goon on each arm. She dripped danger, oozed glamour, and fixed every eye upon her without the need for any kind of magic. For a moment, the song flew from my mind, and there was …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":107905,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,14,20109],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-140174","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-publications","category-tcl-46-winter-2023","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140174","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/107905"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=140174"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140174\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":140175,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140174\/revisions\/140175"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=140174"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=140174"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=140174"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}