People were weird when they slept. The creases and wrinkles from their waking life disappeared, leaving behind only a whisper of their thoughts, worries, and dreams. They looked younger, as if the years hadn’t worn them down like the tide slowly eating away at the rocky shore, taking their life force instead. They were weird because they didn’t at all resemble the person they truly were on the inside. They looked innocent, more akin to the child their mother adored than the monster they had become. It was times like these where Sasha almost considered letting them go. Almost.
Her blade arced through the air and the man before her, thick bearded and reeking of alcohol, leapt up, yowling as he clutched his forearm. Sasha sat on the coffee table calmly, watching his sputter. His bloodshot eyes raked the room wildly before finally resting on her.
“YOU FUCKING BITCH” He roared, and she felt vodka soaked spittle shower her face. His uninjured arm reeled back, but Sasha was quicker. She was on her feet with her knife under his chin before he could land what promised to be an uncomfortable hit, by the size of him.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Sasha asked softly, triumphant at the shock in his eyes. “I’d watch myself if I were you, Greg. You don’t lock your doors well at night. Now sit down.” Before he could do it himself, she shoved him back onto the old couch, which creaked under his weight. Towering over him, Sasha folded her arms. “Do you know why I’m here, Greg?”
The man, Greg, glared up at her, blood leaking through his fingers where he applied pressure to his wound, “I told you, I’d call when I had information, and-”
Sasha laughed a soft, humourless laugh, “No, Greg. That’s not what you said. You said you’d call in two weeks with information. It’s been three.”
“Lives are at stake, Greg. Innocent lives. And here you are drinking away the money we paid you. Now you better have a good fucking reason for getting pissed drunk four nights a week on our dime instead of following that ‘so called lead’ you said you had.” Sasha’s fingers tightened around her knife, her expression hard.
“I do!” Greg fumed and made a funny jerking movement like he meant to stand but thought better of it. “There’s a guy at the bar. I think he’s one of them. I was going to call you tomorrow, you stupid bitch.” Sasha’s eyebrow arced dangerously, her arms unfolded, knife glinting in the dark, and he continued on, “I don’t know for sure, that’s why I haven’t called. He’s this fit guy, attractive, but his eyes are weird, they’re almost yellow. Loud, cocky guy. I’ve been trying to talk to him but he won’t bite... I mean that figuratively.” He added quickly from the look on Sasha’s face. “Here, I’ve got a picture of him.”
Greg fumbled in his jeans pocket for his phone, and withdrew a beat up old iPhone with a cracked screen. He scrolled through the pictures, keeping one eye on Sasha, until he found what he was looking for. “See?” He said, handing her the phone.
Sasha squinted through the broken screen at a grinning young man in the throws of an animated conversation, around her age. He was everything Greg said he was; attractive, muscular, and he held himself in that self assured way. But it was his eyes that gave Sasha pause. The way the light caught them turned them into great, yellow disks. Any other person would have passed it off as a trick of the light, but she knew better.
“Good work, Greg.” She said lightly, tossing the phone back to him. “Send that to me. I want more information on this guy by the end of the week or the next time I see you won’t be so pleasant.” Her dark eyes bore into his, and Greg had to suppress a shudder. “I’ll see myself out.” With that, she turned heel and stalked out of the house.
