Nyx crept along the beams. Hand over hand she slid through the shadows, watching the masked man below. Curious, she dropped to a lower beam, to get a closer look at what he was looking at. It crinkled as he opened it. She liked the sound, but Nyx could not read the familiar markings on the paper. Familiar only because she had stared at them for hours at a time, but had never been taught to decipher them.
She pouted as the man covered in swirling smoke obscured her view of the paper. As she leaned out farther, particles of dust fell from the rafter onto the pale skin of his shoulder. He reached up to brush it off but paused. At his movement, Nyx flinched and dropped. She sunk as low to the rafter as she could. Perhaps after she had her fun with this man she would take the paper. Her master would never teach her these things, as she might use them against him. But she could bring it to one of the monks and torture them until they taught her what the markings meant. Maybe they could even teach her how to make the markings. Her pleasant thoughts were cut short when movement caught her eye.
The candlelight flickered as the ghost man stood and looked around. His eyes scanned the room, the rafters, everywhere. Nyx held her breath and hoped he wouldn’t find her. Hide and seek was only fun when Nyx was doing the seeking. The girl smiled as she noted the color of his eyes. Blue. Like the cool liquid of the ocean. The thought of making him a toy pleased her. Like the others, it made her happy to hear the little ones squeal in terror when she chased them, swinging her kusarigama, cutting through their flesh like a hot knife through butter. The big ones were much slower, less fun to chase, more fun to toy with. They took longer to stop moving forever.
The ghost man sat down again and Nyx relaxed a little. She reached into the holster at her side, drawing out the deadly sickle. It’s chain resided in a small leather pouch. Every time she touched it she remembered the blood curdling screams of the woman she had taken it from and smiled. Lost in her daydream, she paid less attention to the quiet removal of “Miki” (her kusarigama) than she should have. She was unaware of the gentle tinkling of the chain piling on the beam next to her, unaware that it alerted the man below her of her presence.
Nyx gathered her feet beneath her and poised herself to jump. He’d be so surprised! She could have some fun with this one before he died. He was strong, with skin so pale she could see the veins pushing that red, delicious liquid through him. Nyx took the sickle in one hand, and a handful of the steel chain in the other. She could feel the weight of the small, spiked steel ball at the end of the chain. Nyx let loose a quiet breath and dropped from the beam.
She landed on the masked mans back, but he had been prepared. He grunted and reached over his shoulder, tangling his fingers in her hair. His grip tightened and he dragged her up and over. Nyx growled at the failed attempt as she was tossed through the air. She hit the table and rolled into a crouch facing her target. He made toward her, but Nyx began to swing the spiked end of her chain.
A sharp whistle cut through the air as the ball swirled around her. Gentle flicks of her wrist kept the ball in motion, maintaining a protective field about the petite girl. The pale man’s blue eyes widened subtly. He seemed mildly surprised in her choice of weapon.
Nyx started toward him, intending to plant the menacing ball into the soft fleshy part of his face. She grinned at the thought, making an almost unsettling picture as she stalked toward the masked man. A subtle shift in her position of her wrist and the arc widened, bringing the deadly spiked sphere ever closer to its target.
Having followed this man for the past few days, she had felt prepared for his reflexes. Again he surprised her with his ability to dodge her attacks. She swung the spiked ball and chain in his direction over and over again, retracting again with each failure to resume the balanced circle around herself.
The onslaught continued, with the sharp edges of the deadly ball circling ever closer to the pale flesh of the man. The wooden chairs splintered as the ball crashed through them, sending a veritable fog of wooden pulp into the air. Nyx stood at the edge of the table, maintaining her higher ground. She began to grow bored of this man. She lunged forward, swinging the ball around and out, letting the chain slip easily through her grip in his direction.
But something was wrong. Nyx began to tense up as she noted the change in this man’s stance. Lightning fast, he brought his hand up and wrapped his fingers around the ball. Nyx's mouth dropped open in utter shock. Needle thin spikes pierced his white skin and he let out a growl of pain. Nyx made to haul back the end of the chain but he was faster still. He rotated his forearm, curling even more of the excess length of chain around him. An evil grin contorted his features and he stared Nyx down.
The intensity of his glare made any courage she had begin to shrivel up. She yanked on the chain, making it appear as though she meant to fight for it. Finally Nyx spotted a way out. Springing from the edge of the table, she tossed the scythe in his direction. She hit the floor and slid between his legs before bounding up the pile of barrels in the corner and out the window she had come in.