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This isn’t at all how Ina’nis saw it going down.
It was supposed to be so simple. Just one kill to maintain the cover of her continued existence. One gets to die a hero. The other gets to live on the villain. And now?
Now was just a mess.
Amelia Watson is lying face down on the hardwood floor of their condo, by the living room. She’s clearly drunk, based on the nearly empty bottle of vodka clutched in her left hand. In her right, a revolver that she seems to have been unable to load with bullets. Upon hearing Ina entering their home, the detective growls.
“You fucking liar,” she seethes.
“I’m home,” deadpans Ina.
Ame moves to stand. But she staggers. Immediately rushes over to a potted plant and vomits into it. Ina grimaces.
Amelia Watson points an accusatory finger at her supposed wife, her face fierce with rage. “I can’t believe that after all these fucking years, you turned out to be some killer for hire piece of fucking shit.”
“Hi honey,” goes Ina sarcastically, she pulls a silenced pistol out of her purse. Aims it directly at Amelia. “How about having lead for dinner?” Ina laughs at her own joke. She’d taken the time to really come up with that one.
_______
The receiver in Ina’s ear crackled to life. A voice, from the Institute, on the other end. Warbled, warped by a post-processing device. “Priestess, return to the temple. Cover blown. I repeat. Cover blown,” it said.
Her retreat to the Institute was quick. She kept to the shadows. Upon arrival she was directed to a screen. There, a recording. A planted bug at Amelia Watson’s detective agency.
Amelia Watson was supposed to be Ina’nis’ wife, as per her cover. A woman she’d met, courted, and married, for the sake of appearing like a normal, everyday woman.
But there, on the footage, was the myriad of expressions crossing the detective’s features as she goes through some files on her desk. Disbelief. Doubt. Anger. Sorrow. And then the woman moved to a corner. Subtly burned the evidence. Hastily took her coat, revolver, and the ashes of the burnt documents, and fled the scene.
“Priestess,” said her Handler. “Your cover seems to have burned the documents but you need to make sure that nothing gets out. You should… talk it out.”
Ina nodded, solemnly. “Send a Cleaner over by sunrise,” she said.
“Well,” went the handler, but stopped short. “Never mind. Sure.”
_______
Amelia Watson points to the gun in Ina’s hand. She seems more sober but drunk enough to be stupidly brave. “Hey, how about you throw that fucking thing aside and we just punch the shit out of each other until one of us dies?”
“Wow, challenging your wife to a fist fight?”
“Don’t patronize me,” Ame seethes.
“Fine,” goes Ina. “I’ve always wanted to try punching you in the face anyway. More so now that you threw up on the snake plant.”
Ame squares up, taunts Ina to throw the first punch.
Ina throws the gun and her purse aside, distracting Ame as she steps forward gracefully. She lands a quick one, two square on Amelia’s face. Amelia’s head winds backwards. She grits her teeth. She headbutts Ina. Hard.
Stars. For a moment Ina sees nothing but stars.
And the world begins to spin as Amelia lands a few more hits on Ina. One, two, jabs to the face. One, two, three, to the ribs. The punches are hard. The impact reverberating. Ina struggles to keep her ground.
“You’ve always fucking sucked at boxing!” taunts Ame. She throws a wide haymaker but misses. Ina counters with one, two, three jabs to the body. Ame recoils.
Ina takes a few steps backwards and then dives forward, tackling the detective. She immediately gets behind the woman, locking her arm around Ame’s throat in a choke hold.
“And you’ve always been terrible at jiu jitsu!” answers Ina.
Amelia groans as she tries to claw away at Ina’s arms. Ina tightens her hold. Amelia kicks backwards, hitting Ina right on one of her knees. She winces, her hold loosening, and the detective scrambles to get out of the hold.
Ina tries to maneuver into a better grapple hold but she accidentally grabs at Amelia’s left breast and squeezes.
Amelia Watson gasps. A small moan escaping her lips.
Ina instantly lets go, backs up a bit. “Hey, stop that!” she shouts, somehow flustered despite everything. “Don’t moan!”
“Then don’t grab my fucking tits!” Ame retorts, her arms covering her chest as she looks away. There’s a furious blush on her face. She’s just as confused as Ina.
Ina shakes her head. Charges forward again and Ame’s caught off guard as she attempts to elbow Ina but misses. Ina tries to grab at Ame’s wrists, tries to take a position where she can easily choke out the woman. She elbows Amelia and it stuns her for just long enough for Ina to straddle the detective and wrap her hands around the woman’s neck.
Ame’s looking up at Ina, blushing furiously, like she did when they actually tried this in bed the other day. Her eyes are also red. Like she’d been crying a lot. Tears seem to gather once again at the corners of Amelia’s eyes. Ina gets flustered and tries to maneuver into a different choke position.
“Choke on my fat fucking dick,” growls Ina, surprising even herself.
“I’ll fucking suck you dry!” shouts Ame. She stops. Quickly turns to look at Ina. They look at each other, confused, for a few beats.
“What?” goes Ina.
“Sh-shut the fuck up!” answers Ame. She punches Ina in the ribs and the latter retaliates by quickly finding another grapple hold.
Amelia’s a mess, Ina can tell, and almost instinctively she looks to the calendar hanging by their refrigerator to confirm what week of the month it is. Third week of March. Right on par for the emotional outburst. Ina immediately hates herself for knowing these things about Amelia Fucking Watson.
“You just looked at the calendar to check if I’m on my period!” Ame screeches. “Fucking asshole! It doesn’t start until two days from now!”
Ina rolls her eyes, maneuvers into an arm bar position, locking out and tugging at the arm socket. Amelia growls incoherently, tries to twist out of the position. She moves her entire body, and her face finds itself buried in Ina’s crotch.
Ame’s voice is muffled as she tries to shout something and she thrashes her face side to side as she tries to free her arm.
The contact on Ina is, unfortunately, a little too stimulating. Despite the gravity of her situation, she stifles a moan and lets go. She backs up, again.
The two stare at each other. Equal measures confused, horny, angry, and sad.
“What was that?!” shouts Ina.
“Sorry, was I supposed to starfish while you tear my arm out its socket?!” answers Ame.
They stare at each other for a few seconds more, neither willing to initiate the next strike. After a few beats. Amelia Watson exhales, loudly.
“Hey so uh,” goes Ame, suddenly looking down at the floor, brows knitted, “like, before I die I really need to know…”
“Yeah…?” Ina can’t help but feel intense dread at the incoming question.
“So when we were, you know, uh, boning. Before all of this… stuff. You were… faking it the whole time?” Somehow, Ame looks incredibly offended. “Cuz, you know, I was actually into it so uh…”
Ina feels justified in her intense dread. “Are you actually asking ‘Hey Ina, how was the sex?’ right now?”
“I mean, you don’t have to put it that way.”
“I’m sorry, is there any other way to put it Amelia?”
“C-can you just answer the question?” Ame crosses her legs. Slouches. Looks like she’s on the verge of tears again for the millionth time that day.
“Why would I even need to fake it in the first place? I can, uh, just have sex. The cover story doesn’t need to bleed into it.” Ina mirrors Ame’s sitting position. It was getting harder and harder to focus on the concept of fighting to the death.
“Please don’t lie,” whines Ame.
“Ugh,” goes Ina, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Listen, if I wasn’t actually feeling it I could just say ‘I’m not in the mood’ like a normal fucking person.”
“Ah, you cursed. Again,” says Ame.
“Yeah? And what about it? If it damn well pleases me, I can fucking curse too.”
The detective buries her face into her hands. “God, maybe I don’t really know you at all,” she sobs. She falls forward, curls into a little ball. All pretense of defending herself and preserving her life are now entirely abandoned. This was a little more than pathetic to look at.
But Ina knows, Ina knows better than anyone, this was a side of Amelia Fucking Watson that Ame would hide from the world. The side of her that felt pity for herself. That felt unending sorrow at the endless shit life would hurl at her. That was weak and terrified of fucking up. That wanted so desperately for things to work out. The one side she’d show no one but Ina’nis and only Ina’nis.
_______
Amelia Watson tried to get promoted sometime after they married. It didn’t go well.
She sat sadly on their living room couch, flipping mindlessly through channels on the TV. She didn’t initiate any conversation about it with Ina’nis. She pretended to be fine. Pretended to laugh at the dumb entertainment on the television. Somehow, it felt like Ina was the one more upset about the development than the detective was.
After some minutes of not-talking-about-it, Amelia finally leaned forward. Looked at Ina’nis as intently as she could.
“Would you be upset at me if I cried?” she asked.
What an odd question to ask.
“You’re asking if I would be mad that you’re feeling down?” said Ina.
“Yeah,” she said, simply. “Maybe it’s… I don’t know… annoying. Maybe you want me to be better than this. Maybe you need me to be more… together.”
To be entirely honest, Ina’nis wasn’t sure what propelled her forward. But she turned to face her wife. She said, sincerely, “Your pain is part of you, and we can bear that together, if you want.”
So of course, Amelia Watson sobbed. She cried and held on to Ina’nis’s as the latter stroked her hair. Ina told herself it’s pity that drove her to pepper the woman with soft, tiny kisses. Of course. Pity. And the need to maintain the image of a healthy marriage, yes? All for the sake of maintaining the existence of Ina’nis.
“I’m sorry,” Ame said after a while, as she looked down, away. “I’ll be better than this. Please be patient, okay?”
“Of course,” Ina answered. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here. I’ll always be on your side.”
Was that a lie?
Part of the cover, part of the ruse, was the explanation that Ina gave herself.
_______
This is, again, how things aren’t supposed to turn out.
Ina is sitting on their couch, with Amelia Fucking Watson curled up against her. Her arms are wrapped loosely around Ina’s neck. Ina’s arms are wrapped loosely around Ame’s waist. From her position, Ina can see their reflection in the television. They’re cuddling against each other like any normal goddamn couple. Like the only thing missing was a rom com on the television, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of them.
Ame nestles her face in the crook of Ina’s neck. The detective says nothing. Ina thinks that maybe she’s gathering her thoughts. Ina herself isn’t sure what she’s supposed to feel.
Had the past two years of their marriage been a lie?
Ina looks around. The space is littered with furniture they’d picked together. Little souvenir items they’d bought at the places they’d visited. Many, many framed photos. Some of their wedding. Some of the dates they’d been on.
How much of it was a lie to support the cover that Ina had built for herself?
Ina muses that it’s simply not feasible to live a fake life all the time. It’s just too tiring, and too impractical. To have chosen a cover that she can, at the very least, live with, was a wise decision. She still is, despite perhaps the opinions of many, a regular, feeling human. She adjusts her hold on her wife. Ame hums.
In a way, Ina is lucky. Amelia is an attractive woman. She’s also pleasant to be with. And Ina flushes as she thinks, that yes, Amelia was also a good partner to have in bed, actually.
She turns to face the woman, still nestled in the crook of Ina’s neck. She smells faintly of vodka. A little bit like the acidic bite of vomit. And… perfume. Ina recognizes the scent.
_______
Ina, exasperated, held up the bottle of perfume to the salesperson. “This,” she said, “it’s this one!”
The salesperson clapped their hands together, a perfectly rehearsed smile taped to their face. “I’m like, so glad you finally found it! That’s some dedication right there!”
Ina’nis took a moment to take stock of what had just happened.
She was there, at the perfume section of the local mall. She had, in fact, gone over almost every single bottle of perfume present on the premises to find just the one. The right one.
“Ah, it’s ah, for an anniversary present,” Ina said, more than a little embarrassed. She scratched at the back of her head absently. “My wife. She wore this scent when we… first met.”
Her stomach felt like it was flipping over. Ina dismissed it. She was probably hungry after all the walking around she just did.
“Well, I’m glad you somehow found it at this store!” went the salesperson, somehow at a loss for what else to say. “Imagine if you went through everything and it still wasn’t here?”
“Actually,” said Ina, a little more quietly, “… this is the third mall I’ve visited today.”
“… oh. Wow. You must really love your wife.”
“I… yeah. Totally.”
And Ina grabbed the item, rushed toward the cashier. She didn’t like where the conversation was going. This was… for the cover. Yes. The fact that it was so hard to obtain simply adds to the sentimentality of it all, correct? And sentimentality makes for an incredibly believable cover story.
So when she did finally give the gift, when she saw how the smile on Amelia Watson’s face grew, how she had wrapped her arms so tightly around Ina, had kissed her and showered her in all kinds of affection…
… Ina had to remind herself, despite the aching in her heart, despite the way her legs felt like jello, that yes, this was all to support the existence of Ina’nis. Nothing more, nothing less.
_______
They continue to hold each other in silence. Ina can see Amelia’s wedding ring from her position. Looking at it makes a great weight in her heart throb. Like barbed wires, wrapped around the gaps of her ribs. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to look at.
So Ina’nis reaches forward, presses her fingers on the item. Tugs at it. Ame twitches, moves to look at what Ina is doing, but says nothing.
She watches as Ina, quietly, slowly, slides the wedding ring off of Amelia Watson’s finger.
_______
When they got married, Ina was kindly provided a prepared wedding vow by the Institute. It wasn’t anything superbly poetic, nothing what was about to win any Pulitzer prizes. Something plain, something simple, with enough flavor drawn from their actual lives to give the impression that it was something that Ina’nis had truly written and not something a shady hacker had stolen from a wedding card website.
Ina read the vow out loud. Her voice trembled at the right parts. Her eyes misted at the opportune moments. Things were going swimmingly, she thought. A crowd of about fifty to one hundred people were there to corroborate the claim that the relationship that Amelia and Ina’nis shared was definitely normal. Definitely real.
And, like she rehearsed, a thousand times in private, she folded the letter and took the ring to slide it on her bride’s finger.
But unlike her rehearsals, Amelia Watson was there, staring so intently at Ina’nis, wide blue eyes that seemed to glitter in the daylight.
Ina made the very simple, very critical error of looking into Amelia’s eyes. Looking into the blue that reflected the sky. That spoke of freedom. That spoke of a world that Ina knew little about. That saw Ina and no one other than Ina, completely enraptured by her every word, her every movement, her every breath.
It was then that Ina made the startling realization that no one ever quite looked at her the way Amelia Watson did.
Ina stepped forward. Stole a kiss from Amelia’s soft lips. The crowd laughed. The officiant chided her. “Not quite yet, you two,” he said, chuckling heartily.
Blushing, Ina laughed, scratched at the back of her head apologetically. Part of the act, she told herself. Now everyone was doubly sure of the normalcy of their relationship.
Amelia laughed too. It sounded like the tinkling of chimes. So clear and bright. It echoed in Ina’s head and it almost compelled her to steal another kiss. But that would be excessive for the purposes of a cover story, she told herself, so she slipped the ring onto Amelia’s hand.
And she whispered, under her breath, only for her bride to hear. “I vow to be your dagger in the dark. No matter what, I will be by your side, and I will protect you, and I will cherish you, and I will love you until the end of time itself.” Tears clouded her vision. Her heart felt like it was going to burst. The perfect touch, she told herself. Now, now for sure, the cover story was perfect and absolutely believable.
Yes, to speak an oath only one person would hear for the sake of a cover story. All very simple lies to support the existence that is Ina’nis. Very believable, indeed.
_______
The gold band burns in the palm of Ina’s hand. She hastily slides it back on to Ame’s finger. The motion is too haunting. The memory too real in the back of Ina’nis’s mind. Her chest aches. Her heart lurches. Her lungs feel like fire, heaving with breaths far too shallow.
Ame looks up at Ina, confused. A small, patient smile graces the detective’s lips. She moves, adjusts her position. Straddles Ina’s lap as they sit on the couch. With both hands she cups Ina’s face, tilts her head to look up at Ame.
And Amelia Fucking Watson leans forward, presses her forehead against Ina’nis’s. Starts to hum. One of Ina’s favorite songs, or at least, one that she’d told Amelia she likes.
Almost against her will, Ina wraps her arms around Amelia’s frame. Holding her, tightly, tightly, desperate never to let go. Desperate to have her closer, closer still.
“I’m here, I’m here,” whispers Amelia.
Ina screws her eyes shut. She tries to think of other things. Of anything but the present.
She remembers that she’d promised Amelia last month that they’d visit New Zealand sometime soon. Because the detective was stupidly intent on counting cows and comparing their number to the local population. Because Amelia wanted to roam empty grasslands without a care in the world.
Ina figures it would have been good support to their cover story. Young couples like to travel, yes? They could get a cabin, maybe by the lake. Ina would like to fish, she thinks. In the daytime they could go about their business, in the evenings they could make love by the fireplace. Ina’nis had seen that in the cheesy romance movies that she watches with Amelia. She imagines Ame, sprawled out underneath her, whispering nothing but Ina’s name, saying nothing but what she needs of Ina. And Ina’nis would be more than happy to oblige. Of course, it would all purely be for the sake of the cover story, yes. Nothing more but a lie to support the existence of Ina’nis.
Ina’nis clenches her jaw with all the strength her entire body has but a sob manages to crawl its way up her throat, past her lips. No, no, she tells herself. She should not cry for the death of her cover. There would be no point in that, yes?
“I just,” says Ina, her voice rough, “I just need more time. Next month. Next month we can go. I promised.”
“Don’t worry,” says Ame, her voice soft, gentle. “Right now, I’m still here. I’m still here.”
“Don’t,” goes Ina, her voice sounding almost foreign to her, “don’t say it like that.”
_______
Ina woke up with a jolt. She sat up, covered in sweat. She took deep, deep lungfuls of air. It was as if she was drowning.
Again, she had a nightmare about a previous contract. A particularly gory one. It was her, against at least twenty other people. A bloodbath. Many innocents died. Many begged for their lives. More than the blood, more than the guts, more than the flesh and bone and gore, it was the screams. The screams that bore into Ina’nis’s mind.
A familiar pair of arms wrapped around Ina’nis. Amelia Fucking Watson. She squeezed, gently. Moved closer so she could whisper into Ina’s ear.
“A nightmare again?” she asked.
Ina nodded.
“Do you want to tell me what this one is about?”
Ina shook her head.
“That’s okay,” said Ame. She started to hum. The sound was pleasant. Soothing. She stopped only to say “I’m here. I’m here.”
Ina’s breathing stabilized. Her heart rate calmed. Her muscles relaxed. When she was feeling more herself, she said, “That’s a nice song, I think I like it.”
Ame chuckled into Ina’s ear. The breathiness of it was ticklish, warm, pleasant. “Good,” she said, “I just heard it on the radio. Next time you have nightmares I’ll hum this song again, okay? You’ll feel better. It’ll be like magic.” She chuckled some more. “And it’ll be like magic because I’m here.”
“Okay.”
_______
Ina’nis relaxes as Amelia hums her little song. After a while, she asks, “Feeling better?”
“Don’t patronize me,” says Ina.
“I wasn’t. You know I never did. Everything I did was because I genuinely cared.”
The words cut deeper than Ina’nis anticipates.
Quietly, Amelia reaches behind her, tugs at an object taped to her lower back. “You know,” she says, “getting you a dagger for an anniversary gift seemed poetic at the time, considering your wedding vow.”
She produces a finely crafted dagger. Pulls it out of its sheath. Damascus steel, the patterned waves upon the polished surface mesmerizing. Ame had gifted the item to Ina for their second wedding anniversary. “Now though,” says the detective, “it seems extra poetic.” She gently hands the item to Ina. Softly presses Ina’s fingers closed around the handle.
“You had so many opportunities to deal a killing blow,” muses Ina, as she stares down into her reflection on the dagger.
Ame chuckles, a little too bitterly. “Hey, c’mon Ina, you and I both know I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.” She looks up, bright blue eyes somehow piercing through Ina. Sharp like steel, but warmer than the blood in her veins. “We both know that I’m not making it out of this alive. It’s okay. I think I made my peace with it.”
Ina says nothing. Her grip on the dagger’s handle tightens.
“I always thought it was a weird vow to make, you know?” goes Ame. She looks into Ina’s eyes as if searching for an answer. “‘I vow to be your dagger in the dark,’ you said. Not really romantic, if you ask me, but it’s you… and because it’s you…” she trails off. Her voice wavers.
Ina grips the dagger’s hilt so tight her knuckles turn white.
Ame clears her throat. “Because it’s you… it means more than you know to me.” She grins, in that mischievous, lazy way she always does. A sight burned into Ina’s mind.
It’s the same way Amelia smiles when she’s saying anything particularly profound, even when it’s something dumb. It’s the same way she smiles when she says she loves her wife. Ame continues speaking. “Now, that dagger in your hand gets to be your curse to bear, I guess. Let’s call it revenge, from me.”
Ina could almost imagine it, Amelia Watson smiling in that same way when they maybe visit New Zealand together. Maybe. That would be nice, yes?
“That’s not fair,” goes Ina, under her breath.
So Ina’nis gets to be the villain of this story. Her, with the knife her own wife had gifted her glinting in the light. The weight of the metal feels impossibly heavy to bear. The sharp edge reflecting Ina’s own miserable, miserable reflection. She raises her arm, her muscles screaming against the motion. Presses the pointed tip gently against her wife’s back. As if to say “Here, the end to the story.”
As if to say “I don’t want to do this.”
Ame’s grin only widens, but there’s a sorrow in those blue eyes that makes Ina want to shut her own eyes to the reality being played out before her. To turn back the hands of time, somehow. To make everything better again. She wants, so badly, to wake up from this nightmare, to wake up to soft humming and kind embraces. To belong to a world without her stupid lies, her dumb excuses. Because apparently, all this time, one thing is finally clear.
The lie she had so carefully built all these years is a lie Ina’nis Watson uses to tell herself that she feels nothing for Amelia Fucking Watson.
It was supposed to be so simple. Just one kill to maintain the cover of her continued existence. One gets to die a hero. The other gets to live on the villain. And now?
Now was just a mess.
“You’re so goddamn infuriating,” says Ina, but she’s laughing. With her other hand, she caresses Amelia’s cheek, and the woman presses into the touch. “I love you so goddamn much,” says Ina’nis Watson.
And so the dagger in the dark falls to the sunlight of Amelia Watson.