Page 3

Phantom

S he had to be on meds. That was my conclusion as I watched my new principal direct her horse in a gentle trot around the obstacles. She seemed almost serene up there in the saddle, her face relaxed, body perfectly in sync with the white horse.

Some powerful tranquilizers had to be at work, though maybe not. They would have impaired her ability and judgment. Which meant there was only one other option: she didn’t know.

I frowned. Could it be possible her folks didn’t tell her about the video? She was young and sheltered according to the file I got this morning. Barely twenty-three, she lived a fairytale life of horseriding and ballet, spending her days in her family’s mansion, her evenings at galas and charity events, sparkling with diamonds.

Destined for some kind of Prince Charming that would make the best match for her father’s career, she was, indeed, a modern princess.

Why, then, wasn’t she locked up in a tower? I wasn’t officially her bodyguard yet. I hadn’t signed the contract, because the lawyers who presented it added a long appendix of “Conduct Standards” that I refused to sign. Fatima negotiated with them while I was here. Watching the princess.

It wasn’t the usual way I did things. For one, I never looked too deeply into the principal before starting the job, because I was always more interested in the threat. Most jobs that landed in my lap were not general protection assignments. I got the clients who suddenly became threatened because they gained an enemy or a stalker.

What I did wasn’t just protection. I did the MSA’s wet work as bodyguard and assassin in one.

My main job was to neutralize threats, so that was what I focused on. Yet with Barbara, the target was too vague to be useful. I asked my assistant in the office to prepare me an in-depth report on mind manipulation, but that was barely the beginning.

My best bet was to lurk in the dark and get him when he came for the girl again. If he came for her. I really hoped he would, because then I could get him and be done with the job.

Fatima often joked I had commitment issues because I didn’t do long-term protection. My preferred method of protecting a client was to get rid of the threat permanently, so that was my goal here. I’d find those bastards. By the time I was done with them, not only would they not be able to control other people, they’d lose control over their own bowels, as well.

And Barbara would be safe.

I hissed softly, looking away from the graceful figure on the white horse. Barbara. That was another thing I never did, and it was learning their names. Like with my last pro bono. I still didn’t know her name and didn’t care to know it, because Jordan was my main focus, not her.

Now, I couldn’t help it. In the absence of a clear-cut target, I focused on my principal, and her name already sat in my brain like an unwanted weight.

A shadow moving next to a clump of bushes to my right caught my eye. I turned, squinting out from my hiding place in the shade of a large apple tree. A paparazzi crouched low behind the bush, fiddling with his camera.

I looked over at Barbara as she circled the show jumping course easily, warming up. I knew the stable had a stringent no-paparazzi policy. I only got in after showing the guard by the gate my MSA badge.

I looked back at the paparazzi. Technically, it wasn’t my job to protect her yet, and he was most likely harmless. Mind manipulators needed direct eye contact, which he wouldn’t get. Man just wanted a picture.

And yet.

I glanced at the young woman, so perfectly seated, not a hair out of place under her helmet. She came here because the stable didn’t let in the paparazzi. And even if she didn’t know about the video, I did, and I couldn’t imagine the commentary under the riding picture would be kind.

They would tear her to shreds. Right after she was force-fed on screen and humiliated publicly. For an unfathomable reason, it made my mouth salivate with the need to bite, shred, and mutilate.

The unsuspecting paparazzi moved deeper into the shade of the bush, frowning and cussing softly as he fiddled with the huge lens. I stared at him, my fingers twitching. I just realized something, and it made my hidden skin itch.

Fuck. I cared.

It was all because of Fatima’s scheming, I knew. She was one of the few people who knew my full story, and so she’d rightfully guessed that video would move me to take the case. Because how could it not? I knew what it was like to be exposed to public humiliation. To lose control over your body and fate, being at the mercy of another.

The people who had done it to me were dead, and it was all over, and yet, as I watched Barbara’s eyelid twitch in a futile fight to regain her control in the video, it reminded me of that time.

It was why I was here instead of back in my den, sleeping my night off. It was why I wanted to squeeze the paparazzi’s head until it burst like a melon.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered under my breath, shooting the riding princess a baleful glare. “Look what you’ve done.”

When the paparazzi straightened, satisfied with his camera, I was already moving on bent knees. As he raised it to take a photo over the edge of the bush, I slapped the back of his head, making him drop the camera and cry out.

“Hey, handsome,” I murmured into his ear, putting my hand over his mouth as I tackled him to the ground. “Who let you in?”

He released a muffled scream, but there was no one around to hear him. Barbara’s trainer stood by the course, instructing her, and the rest of the staff were busy elsewhere.

“There’s no need to scream, baby. We’re all friends here,” I said with a grin, enjoying the man’s futile struggle.

He was tall and slim, a runner rather than a bodybuilder, and he stood no chance. The monster inside me, the one that got off on games and pain, raised his head. Barely fed last night, he was ready for another meal.

Pity I had no reason to kill the paparazzi. Not on the job, at least. I briefly considered dragging him somewhere into a quiet corner behind the stables to play some more… But no. The day I crossed that line would be the day I became the very thing I hunted—a true monster.

I had to have a good reason to kill. Always.

“I’ll ask again,” I said softly while the man tried to twist in my hold, “and when I remove my hand, you will tell me. If you make a loud noise, even if it’s a fucking sneeze, I’ll squeeze your balls until they burst. Who let you in?”

He fell silent, his hot breath penetrating through my armor. I waited for a few seconds, letting my threat fully sink in, and slowly uncovered his mouth.

“G-Gary,” he wheezed out, trembling. “We’re friends.”

“No, you’re not. Not anymore,” I said, covering his mouth again. “On your way out, be so kind as to inform Gary he’s being sacked because of you, will ya? That’s a good boy.”

I patted the top of his head and stood up, putting my foot on top of the camera. The paparazzi reached for it, hesitated, and finally stood up, turning fast as his hands balled into fists. He was ready to fight me for his equipment, but there was one problem.

As soon as he saw my face, his defiance faded. The angry look froze on his face, then slowly morphed into an expression of abject fear. I grinned, reaching up to caress his cheek. He flinched away with a gurgle.

“Remember to send Gary my best,” I said with a grin.

He turned and ran, his camera forgotten, his body stinking of fear.

“Wonder how much I can get for it,” I said with a grin, picking up the camera and putting the strap around my neck. “Perks of the job, eh?”

On the training course, Barbara and her white horse jumped over a series of obstacles in a fluid, almost dancelike sequence. I stayed for a bit more, watching. I wondered how high-pitched her scream would be when she saw me up close for the first time.

But then, maybe she wouldn’t scream. She was a princess, wasn’t she? And princesses didn’t waste energy screaming like common people. They went straight to fainting.

I went away humming under my breath as I imagined what it would feel like to let her fall to the ground with a thud as she fainted. She definitely deserved it for making me lose my cool.

When I got back to the office, Fatima was still in the conference room, her face perfectly blank beyond the glass wall. I couldn’t see the lawyer’s face, because his back was to me, but the set of his shoulders seemed unhappy.

Then I saw he wasn’t alone. A thin, tall woman wearing a pantsuit sat by his side, an unfriendly smile on her face framed by short, blonde hair. Senator Kingsley’s wife.

“I know you’re wondering why I gathered you here,” I said, stepping through the glass door. “But do not worry. Soon, you will know everything.”

Fatima shot me a cutting look that clearly said to stop my shit right this second, but I ignored her. I pulled out a chair next to her and sat, spreading my thighs wide. In a room filled with stressed out people locked at an impasse, I was the picture of relaxation.

“Madame Ashford, Mister Ortega, I’d like to introduce the Phantom,” Fatima said stiffly, her beringed fingers twitching in her lap.

She wore a splendid turquoise and gold turban that highlighted the golden flecks in her dark eyes. Fatima was a gorgeous djinn, her dark skin gleaming like bronze in daylight and beckoning like velvet at nighttime.

I fantasized about sucking on her toes and worshipping her perfect ankles whenever she was pissed at me, simply to fuck with her. Djinns were attuned to the wishes and desires of people around them, which meant Fatima knew what dirty fantasies played in my mind.

“Charmed,” I said, nodding to Barbara’s mother, who gave me a shallow, barely-there nod in return. Her blue eyes were flinty, her lips pursed. They were full, her face youthful despite her age. I knew she’d had Barbara late, after many years of trying for an heir.

I barely spared the lawyer a glance. Since the woman herself was here, he had just become expedient.

“Kind of you to join us,” Mrs. Ashford said, her voice as cold as her eyes. “You’ve wasted enough of our time refusing to sign. These Conduct Standards are non-negotiable. As I already told Fatima, we’re ready to double your pay if that’s what it takes.”

I glanced at Fatima, whose face was perfectly neutral. “I long to get down on my knees in front of you,” I projected, grinning when a muscle in her jaw jumped. “I’d remove those gorgeous designer heels, gently roll up your pants, and take your exquisite foot in my hand. I’d start slowly, not touching yet. I would just hover my face near your ankle, a whisper of a breath away from your body, and blow. My air would play over your skin. It would be exquisite.”

I was very proud of myself. All the purple prose I read made me a poetic genius.

“Just sign the goddamn document, Phantom,” she growled through gritted teeth.

“I’m afraid I cannot compromise my principles,” I said primly, abandoning my little game.

She was closer to the edge than I thought if she allowed herself to cuss in the presence of a client. If I kept going, who knew what she’d do? Djinns could burst into flames and grow wings of fire, and I knew she’d never forgive me if I made her lose control.

“What principles?” Mrs. Ashford asked with a scoff, clearly as annoyed as my boss. “Is it your principle to curse? To make lewd gestures? To get violent in public spaces and damage the reputation of your clients?”

“No,” I said, spreading my legs even wider. “I have one principle, and it’s protecting my clients to my best fucking ability. Your rigid Conduct Standards will interfere with that. Therefore, I will not fucking sign, goddammit.”

I faced Mrs. Ashford, but I still saw the lawyer wince every time I cursed. I grinned. Before either he or his employer spoke, I straightened, opening my arms in a conciliatory gesture.

“But you know what? I see this is important to you, and I know you have no choice but to hire me. After what happened to young Barbara, you’re in quite a tight spot, hm? And I am the only one who can protect her from those terrorists, so I’ll make a concession. I’ll give you one.”

The lawyer blinked, confused, and Mrs. Ashford crossed her arms on her perfectly sculpted chest.

“One what, Mister Phantom?”

“One motherfucking standard from this cocksucking list of fifty-six. Choose carefully, though. Make sure it’s absolutely goddamn necessary.”

The lawyer opened his mouth, but Mrs. Ashford beat him to it. “Item six.”

I made a show of checking Fatima’s copy of the document, even though I knew exactly what item six said.

“I will not use swear words and lewd language. See appendix C for the banned word list.”

I flipped to the appendix with a flourish, zeroing in on the list. “Ah, yes. So if I agree, I will be banned from saying ‘fuck’, ‘cock’, ‘cunt’, ‘twat’, ‘ass’, ‘bullshit’, ‘horse shit’, ‘bugger’…”

“Yes,” Fatima snapped, pulling the document out of my hand so fast, the paper would have cut me if not for my armor. “Please, prepare a document for the Phantom to sign and let’s get it over with.”

I signed fifteen minutes later, becoming officially employed to guard Barbara’s life and mental autonomy while committing myself to stay cuss-free for the duration of my assignment. When the client left, Fatima turned to me with barely concealed annoyance.

“You goaded them to pick that one. Why?”

I thought briefly about her beautiful, shapely toes that I wanted to wrap my tongue around, and she growled at once, a ball of fire engulfing her palm.

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” I complained. “Fine. They needed a bone, so I threw them one. Item six is the only one that doesn’t affect my assignment in any way. Most of the other standards could impact my ability to do my job. All regulations regarding uniform, posture, and behavior during official events would keep me from doing my best. And some are simply insulting.”

She sighed, closing her palm. The golden flame disappeared, leaving the aroma of an extinguished candle behind.

“That’s what I told them. We have our own conduct standards that prohibit fraternization, leaking sensitive information, and so on. They still insisted on their own document.”

She looked with disgust at the long list, her eyes narrowing when they reached item fifty-four, “Breathing Regulations”.

“Do me a favor and breathe loudly whenever you can get away with it,” she said, giving me a sharp grin.

“No need to ask, I’m already on it.” I laughed, taking the list from her hands. “I’ll also wear a pink thong and make sure it’s visible under my perfectly tailored uniform.” I tapped item thirty-seven, “Proper Attire”.

Fatima nodded, getting up with a sigh. “But will you survive without being able to say ‘fuck’?” she asked, arching her thick eyebrow.

“I think I’ll manage.”

I laughed as I walked out. When I was safely out of her range, I turned and blew her a kiss.

“I scorn you, scurvy companion!” I exclaimed, waving my hand in an affected gesture.

Fatima chuckled, shaking her head, and replied in kind.

“Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.”

“That I do,” I murmured under my breath, setting out for sweet Barbara’s home.

“And Phantom?” Fatima called out. “Behave in things that matter. You know what will happen if you don’t.”

I rolled my eyes in the depths of my sockets, desperately wanting to curse. My superior liked to remind me she kept me only for my knife skills and flexible conscience that came in handy from time to time. Each branch of the MSA employed someone like me: a rogue who relished a wet job and could be deployed when standard procedures failed.

But renegades came with issues. My twisted principles didn’t align with the rest of the world, and my brain didn’t have the same filters others had. My psychiatrist thought I lacked the ability to perceive and respect boundaries, but personally, I considered myself superior.

Fatima liked to think she had a leash around my neck, but little did she know I couldn’t be tamed. Not really. When push came to shove, I would act the way I wanted.

Like now.

The monster under my skin roared for blood, and so I’d give it to him. Even though I was supposed to start tomorrow morning, I set out for the princess’s tower.

Hopefully, I’d find myself a dragon to fight.