A Fate Foretold (formerly: A World Gone Mad)

A Fate Foretold 11

           Ralph had left the day before. The Sullivan pack had allowed Ally to walk her stepbrother down the drive alone, as long as she kept in sight of the house. Only when they were far enough away did they speak.

            “Where do you go from here?”

            “Across the Bering Strait, then down south. Your little lie about going to Nepal inspired me to go to Everest myself.”

            “Be careful crossing into Tsolmon territory.”

            “I know, Christian told me.” He scrutinized Ally’s face. “What do you think about this Tsolmon business?”

            Ally raised an eyebrow. “It’s not my concern at the moment. I have no opinion.”

            Ralph scoffed, unbelieving.

            “For your own sake, don’t even hint to anyone that you’ve seen me,” Ally cautioned him. “Try to put me out of your mind to keep the secret.”

            “I know. I did learn from the best,” he shot her a semi-sad grin. “You haven’t once asked me about Philippe,” Ralph commented, unable to hold back any longer. He had been thinking about it since the first day.

            The corner of Ally’s mouth twitched back as if in physical pain. Small as the gesture was, Ralph caught it. The observation had taken her by surprise, but when she spoke her tone was even and easy. “Why should I? I assume you would have told me anything truly important.”

            Ralph smiled, if a bit grimly. “There is nothing to tell.”

            “There is nothing good to tell, you mean.”

            He sighed. “Philippe was distraught when you disappeared.”

            “I’m sure he was,” Ally answered coolly. “I can’t imagine having to tell Lydia that her greatest adversary was on the loose when only the day before she had been under careful control.”

            “He never thought of you two as adversaries.”

            “Then he’s a fool,” Ally retorted. “I should have seen that long ago.”

            Ralph nodded slowly. “He rushed in where you feared to tread.”

            Ally burst out laughing. “I hardly think I’m an angel, my dear.”

            “You’re the strongest person I know, Alianora,” Ralph told her seriously. “I know I shall see you again soon. You will come back and be even better than before. I know it.”

            “Thank you,” Ally whispered, touched.

            Ally stood in the kitchen re-organizing the cupboard, when a knock at the door reverberated through the corridor. It startled her, as she hadn’t heard a car pull up. Only Caleb was in the house, the rest of the unit was out on business. Not wanting to disturb Caleb in the back, Ally answered the door herself.

            Swinging the door open revealed a man in an unofficial uniform of black trousers and a royal blue shirt, although both it and its wearer looked unwashed and worn. Ally recognized that outfit.

            The man, tired as he was, took a few moments before he looked up. He began speaking, “I am searching for a traveler by the name of Ralph. I understand he came through this – “ he broke off when he finally set his eyes on the girl in front of him. His eyes widened in obvious surprise, and then quickly narrowed in determination.

            He darted forward towards her, reaching to grasp something tucked into the small of his back, but Ally threw herself to the right. His hand managed to grab a fistful of her hair, hauling her back and bracing her against his body. She furiously lashed out, making him lose his grip on her when he let one hand go to clutch at the dagger. Ally sidestepped at the last second, bringing her hand to his neck and squeezing the precise spot where his pressure point lay. He dropped to the stone floor, unconscious.

            Ally made it look easy by virtue of long practice, although it was anything but. There was no time to think as she rifled through his pockets and the small bag he carried. She removed the dagger he had reached for, sliding it out of its sheath to inspect the metal. It was sharpened to perfection and would have cut through her skin like butter.

            He did not carry much personal identification, but too much for an assassin. A letter from Lydia, addressed to Ralph, hinted at some news that Ally suspected the messenger would further divulge verbally. The outfit Ally recognized was the standard issue for Lydia’s personal servicemen. They did any number of things for her stepmother, including delivering letters, but each swore an oath of allegiance to Lydia alone. They were the men Lydia would have engaged to kill her stepdaughter.

            Ally thought quickly. It seemed like a terrible coincidence. Ralph had passed through here, and Lydia had sent a messenger who was tracking Ralph’s journey hoping to catch up with him. He had seemed genuinely surprised to find Ally here, but equally determined to seize upon the opportunity to kill her. He would be well rewarded back in Geneva for his stroke of luck.

            Ally sighed in relief that her trail had not been picked up on. But this left an unconscious messenger at her feet. Luckily Caleb had not come ambling to the door. Luckily everyone else was out for the day. There was too much luck involved in this for Ally’s liking.

            The situation didn’t leave another option. Ally rolled the unconscious man on his back, and wrapped her two dainty hands around his neck. They were stronger than they looked, even though the dagger would have been easier if it weren’t for the blood to clean up. She squeezed with purpose and only let go when she was sure he was dead.

            Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she released him. Ally clenched her hands together. The nails bit into her palm hard enough to draw a pinprick of blood. The pain helped to jolt her back into action. Now came the difficult part. She had to dispose of his body somewhere where it wouldn’t arouse suspicion. Ally took a risk and ventured out into the woods without a guard, dragging the dead man’s body behind her. It was difficult work, and the twinge of pain in her arms assured her that she would ache by nightfall.

            She only took the body out of sight of the house. The canopy of trees was dense enough. After retrieving a shovel from the potting shed, she set to work digging a grave. Her arm muscles screamed in protest, but there was nothing to be done about it. Luckily it wasn’t winter yet, as digging into the frozen ground would be impossible. Sweating from the labor, Ally shed her coat, determined to finish the job before the others returned. It took longer than expected. She would never manage six feet, but a hole four and a half feet deep was good enough.

            Her arms shuddered in exhaustion as she shoveled the last of the dirt back on top of the now covered body. Animals might come and dig him up; she could only hope they disposed of the body quickly if they did. Numb in every sense, Ally forced herself to double check the area before returning the shovel to the potting shed. Back inside the house, she lit a fire in the fireplace and fed all the documents the messenger had carried into the flames. When they had disintegrated, she blew out the fire and swept up the ash. Covered in sweat, dirt, and soot, Ally finally allowed herself to retreat into her room and take a shower.

            Her whole body trembled as she sat on the floor of the shower and allowed the scalding water to pound a rhythm onto her huddled form. This was the price she had to pay. This was sacrifice. This was what her past and her future were worth. Ralph had been wrong. This was where angels feared to tread.

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- For fools rush in where angels fear to tread -

Please comment and vote! Protagonists can't be perfect; flat characters are boring. I bet you have an opinion on Ally's actions - share!