From Hell with Love (34 page)

“That is the name I have been given,” it said cryptically, its voices bouncing off of each other.  Niccolo walked after the creature, seeing the folds of its brown robes falling around impossible anatomy that Niccolo could only guess at.  He was not the only one bothered by the sight of the Leviathan.  All of the demons ahead of them scattered at the Leviathan’s approach, looking at Niccolo in horror.  It forced him to wonder exactly what this thing was.

“Do you not like your name?  People change their names all the time down here.  Why don’t you choose another?” Niccolo asked, trying to keep the conversation light.  The creature did not bother to answer until they reached a corner of the Reception Hall which was completely devoid of other creatures.  Then the Leviathan turned and seemed to slump into itself, its robes falling around it.

“I have never thought to change it.  My name means nothing to me.  It is only what the world wishes to call me.  Why should I care what letters and syllables are used for my reference?” it asked, staring into Niccolo with its blazing eyes.  Feeling awkward, Niccolo shoved his thumbs under his belt and then shifted his weight to his right leg.

“Some people feel pride in their names,” he offered, which caused the creature to tilt its mask to the right slightly.

“What a strange thing to feel pride in,” it commented, drawing into itself.  Before it did, Niccolo noticed that its feet were not feet, but the same kind of appendage he had seen in the Leviathan’s sleeve.

“People are strange, Leviathan,” Niccolo said before taking out his thumbs from his belt and then crossing his arms.  He wondered why this gigantic creature wanted to talk to him.

“You included, Horseman,” it said, its twin voices trading places in levels of volume.

“You think I’m strange?” Niccolo asked, trying to maintain eye contact but finding it difficult.  Even while sitting, the Leviathan leaned forward and towered over the former human.

“I know it, Niccolo.  For such a young soul, you have quite the list of enemies,” it mentioned, making Niccolo stare at him with suspicion.

“What do you know about my enemies?” he asked, almost demanding answers from the terrifying creature.  The Leviathan just brought its mask within a foot of Niccolo’s rotten face.

“More than you, it seems.  They surround you.  And you drink and smile just like the rest of them,” it mentioned, at times the whisper becoming dominant over the deep rumble.  “I don’t understand.”

“If you know my enemies, tell me,” Niccolo commanded, his fear gone now that the Leviathan had admitted to his knowledge.

“Why?”

“Because I need to know.”

“Why?”

“If I know, then I can save Scr…Lucifer,” he explained, wondering why the creature was being difficult.

“Should Lucifer be saved?” it asked, the golden mask tilting to the right in its confusion.  The genuine question shocked Niccolo.

“Y-yes!  He’s the ruler of Hell.  He’s what’s keeping it together!” he urged, not caring if anybody could overhear him.  The Leviathan had created enough of an empty space that there could not be any spies around.

“
Should
it be kept together?” the creature asked, the deep rumble now dominant.  Niccolo shook his head in confusion and scratched at his right eyebrow.

“Of…of course!  Otherwise there will be feral demons everywhere, there will be chaos!”

“What is wrong with chaos?” it asked, its mask drawing back toward the rest of its body.  Niccolo followed, his mind so preoccupied he had completely abandoned his fear of the monstrous thing.

“I…he
can’t
die,” he said, not bothering to continue the argument.  The Leviathan grunted, which caused Niccolo to look back up into the gold and blue mask.  The blue flames seemed to be regarding him with understanding.

“You do not want Lucifer to die because he is important.”

“Yes, he’s important,” Niccolo agreed, which brought a nod from the massive creature.

“I understand.  You do not want him to die because he is important,” it repeated, seeming to wrap the concept around its infantile mind.

“Right,” Niccolo said, nodding at the same time.  The creature then extended its neck and the mask forward again, dominating Niccolo’s vision once more.

“Perhaps he needs to die
because
he is important.”

“That’s insane!” Niccolo shouted, his fingers closing into fists.  With absolutely no regard to who might be listening, he shouted again.  “Without Lucifer, there’s no Hell!”

“Perhaps
that
is best,” the Leviathan said, his eyes growing within the dark pits of his mask.  Niccolo wanted to punch the creature and kill it for saying such a thing, but before he could raise his fists, a clear voice broke through the reception hall.

“Niccolo!” Lucifer shouted, making Niccolo turn to find him by the nearby entrance.  The fallen angel did not look pleased.

“Scratch,” Niccolo muttered, breaking eye contact with the Devil to find that every demon in the hall was staring straight at him.  Cadmus and Sitri were at the edge of the crowd, but Niccolo’s eyes stayed on them for only a moment before he turned back to Lucifer.

“Come with me. 
Now
,” he commanded before turning back to the doorway.  Niccolo suddenly felt the weight of everyone’s stares and realized he had made quite the scene.

“You should go, Horseman.  I am sure we will speak again,” the twin voices suggested behind him.  Niccolo turned to see that the mask was tilted slightly and that the shining, blue eyes were slightly closed.  It took a moment for Niccolo to realize the creature was smiling.

“Now go on,” the Leviathan said before waving Niccolo forward with his left arm.  With the motion, Niccolo was finally able to see that the Leviathan’s limb was actually two arms coiled around each other, which was made all the more disconcerting when the creature picked itself up and walked past him, looking over its shoulder with his eyes shining malevolently inside its mask.  Niccolo could see why the kings might be scared of such a creature. 

After all, he was terrified.

Chapter 10: Past - Natural Born Killer

Niccolo sprinted across the rooftop, his hair pulled back and tied so it would not get in his eyes.  He was doing his best to mitigate the sound coming from his feet against the clay roof, wearing shoes with thin, worn-in soles, but he still made a small amount of noise as he neared his prey.  The man in front of him turned slightly upon his approach, but Niccolo was not worried.  The tearing of leather and flesh was followed by a short blade bursting through the guard’s chest, his own blood shining in the moonlight.  Niccolo used his left arm to push the man’s body forward, withdrawing the blade before bringing it across the man’s throat, silencing him and quickening his death.  The young assassin could not afford to let the man sound an alarm.

As soon as the man’s throat had been torn open, Niccolo was already on the move, leaping along the small houses that lined the street.  He could not risk being spotted during this mission; the official he was hunting was far too cautious and would fly at the first sign of danger.  So Niccolo continued running along the rooftops toward the next guard, who was smoking an ornate pipe he had probably stolen from his employer.  Niccolo smiled as the guard continued to breathe in the rich smoke; it was a suitable distraction for his work.  Coming to a slow crawl, Niccolo tried to approach the guard with as little noise as possible.

The guard had taken a deep drag from the wooden piece while Niccolo was sneaking toward him, and it ended up being far too much him to handle.  He broke into a cough, which, if there had been a guard close enough to hear it, would have brought undue attention to Niccolo’s position.  Instead, the guard’s breathing trouble caused him to turn and find Niccolo creeping toward him.  Cursing under his breath, Niccolo rushed toward the man with his short blade in his right hand.  The guard fumbled his spear for a moment, but eventually brought it forward to deal with the oncoming threat.

When the man thrust his spear toward Niccolo’s position, he did not expect the bundle of grey and brown clothing to twist sideways and then grab the shaft of the weapon, rendering it useless.  The guard struggled for a moment before seeing the bright flash of reflected moonlight and panicked, bringing up his left arm to ward off the incoming strike.  Blood burst from his arm as Niccolo’s blade sank down to the bone and became stuck in the notch it made, causing the man’s face to fill with terror and pain.

The assassin cursed again, as he could not remove his blade easily, and found that the man was still fighting for control over the spear.  They stood there for a moment, locked in each other’s embrace, before the guard finally realized he was not entirely alone on these rooftops.

“Help!  Assassin!” the guard shouted before dropping his spear and throwing his fist toward Niccolo’s face.  The leper dodged the blow and leapt backward, releasing his grip over the blade still moored in the guard’s body.

If you could just handle your tobacco,
Niccolo thought as he took one of the small blades on the strap crossing his chest and held it deftly in the fingers of his right hand.  He could see the anger and pain on the guard’s expression as he tried to take Niccolo’s blade out of his arm, but Niccolo was not going to let the man delay this any longer.  The assassin threw his arm out in a horizontal arc, sending the small blade from his hand into the guard’s throat and causing visible confusion on his face.  When the man’s body tumbled to the side, Niccolo cursed yet again, as he took Niccolo’s weapons with him.

Niccolo ran forward and could see the lights flaring up all around the complex, which made him wonder how he was going to complete this mission.  When he reached the next rooftop, he stared at the home of the official he was supposed to kill.  He was a Norman, one of the thugs brought in to control Napoli, and just that was enough to earn death at the hand of Innocenti and his friends.  Thankfully, his guards were all from the same region and easily recognizable, so the young assassin only had to watch the complex for any men from the North.    As he waited, Niccolo brought the bow from his back and strung it before plucking it once, watching the tension dance along the cord.

It was not long before some of the Norman’s thugs had ventured out of the building, holding lanterns and spears in order to find and kill the mysterious assassin.  Niccolo gave a half-smile at that before grabbing a barbed arrow from the quiver on his back.

“Come out, you Italian bastard!” one of the guards shouted, which caused Niccolo to shake his head.  Anybody who would take up that offer had no business being a hired killer.  Instead he watched, waiting for the official to make his escape.

He was rewarded for his patience by seeing light playing along the bricks behind the house, which had to be the Norman official fleeing from the scene.  Niccolo sighed before aiming at the vocal guard and sending an arrow toward him.  Because of the strength of the bow, the arrow punctured the man’s chest plate and went through him, ending any possibility of future threats.  Niccolo then picked himself up and ran back the way that he had come, drawing another arrow from his quiver as he did.  Almost as an afterthought as he was running, Niccolo drew back the string and then let the arrow fly to its mark, bursting through the other man’s gleaming helm.

Over the last few years, Niccolo had become quite skilled with the bow and arrow, being able to hit targets while running or even on horseback.  An assassin who used only short-ranged weapons would not live very long.  For that, Niccolo was grateful for Innocenti’s tutelage.  As he ran back along the rooftops and slung the bow over his back, trying to determine a route which would bring him to the escaping Norman, Niccolo thought about how difficult things would have been without the scheming merchant's education.

The skin around his eye itched, but Niccolo tried to ignore the useless thing.  It had only been a year after his arrival in Napoli when the leprosy had taken his eye from him.  It was still there underneath it all, but the skin around it had become so inflamed and mutilated that it had covered the eye.  Niccolo had tried cutting the skin away, but that had only left scar tissue and the blight had crept in again.  After a while it did not bother him, as he had learned how to aim his bow without depth perception, and eventually he had moved on.

That was what Napoli had been for him.  It had been his way to move on.

Niccolo sprinted along the rooftops of the street and realized he would never catch up to the Norman if he stayed on this path; it was likely that the official had horses in a nearby stable.  So, when he saw a stack of crates on the side of the street, Niccolo jumped down and continued his pursuit along the mud and filth.  At this time of night the streets were deserted, so he did not have to worry about running through any crowds.  When he found a cross street, Niccolo ducked inside and continued sprinting, determined to cut off the Norman’s escape.

Niccolo burst onto the parallel street and found that the lanterns had gathered around a stable thirty yards to his right.  Not bothering to curse, the young assassin continued to run toward his prey, his breath measured and exact.  One of the first things Innocenti had done was force Niccolo through a brutal course of calisthenics designed to improve his stamina.  Niccolo thanked his master wordlessly as he brought out the special knife he had prepared for the Norman, the distance between him and the stables decreasing rapidly.

“He’s still out there!  Get him!” he heard a man shout in a frightened voice, but Niccolo did not need to know he was considered a threat.  Niccolo was within a few yards of the stables when three riders burst out, one of the smaller horses rearing as it noticed Niccolo approaching them.

“That’s him!  It has to be!” one of the guards shouted, but Niccolo was not looking at him.  He was looking at the Norman official, his evening dress complemented by a cloak which had been hastily thrown on him.  Niccolo did not have a chance to draw his bow like this, he did not have a chance to sneak forward and kill his prey.