The Killer’s Vow by Aria R. Blue
Simon
The Bolshoi Theatre’s crimson and gold curtains open.
All around me, the tourists and locals alike quiet down as the ballet dancers come into view.
Tchaikovsky’s world-famous composition plays.
This time, it’s Swan Lake.
I sip on premium chilled vodka as I watch. For me, it’s more about the memory these performances bring forth.
My mother was a ballerina.
She wasn’t famous or anything, but she lived and breathed ballet.
One time, I asked her why she loved it so much.
“The rest of the world slips away when you really focus on something, Simon. It’s only when the mind quiets down that you can listen to what your heart has to say. That’s the closest we can get to true bliss.”
To this day, I don’t understand what that feels like.
My condition keeps me from focusing on one thing. This is why the Bureau is so insistent that I take my medication and go to those god-awful psychologist meetings.
They’re afraid that I’ll slip again if I don’t.
I’m back in Moscow now.
After joining Vera on the balcony, I was left feeling unhinged.
Vera was going to drive me crazy if I let her. Standing next to her felt like I was standing at the edge of the world.
And I know better than to crave a woman like her.
She’ll be fine as long as she’s under her daddy’s protection. As for the men who try to come into her life, she can handle them without my help. She’s been doing it for years.
But just in case, I’ll be monitoring the Reznikov’s movements.
I have spies in place.
Every time the Chicago Bratva make a decision, I’ll be hearing of it.
So far, I know that they’re broke and trying desperately to hide it. I also know that for whatever reason, Vera’s father has been rejecting marriage proposals for his daughter. It means that he’s occupied with something else.
Even since I laid my hands on her smooth skin, she sneaked her way under mine.
Her energy thrums in me now, alive and mystical.
It’s more than wanting to bury my cock inside her. I want more. I want to explore her mind just as much as I want to explore her body.
It’s an unquenchable curiosity.
The more I learn about her, the more I want to get to know her.
She fascinates me, plain and simple.
The door to my private box opens. It’s the woman who brings in my food and drink.
“Mr. Kalashnik, you have a visitor here to join you,” she says in a soft voice.
“Let him in,” I say.
A moment later, a heavyset man with thick white hair walks in.
The second the door clicks shut, he pounces on me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I don’t know, Vlad. Why don’t you ask your psychologist friend? I’m sure she had a lot to say about me that day.”
“Vera Reznikova is still alive,” he says.
“Yes.” As she will be.
“You were sent to kill her, not the man she was about to marry.”
“She never cared for that man,” I grit out.
“What does that have to do with anything?” he snaps. And then he pauses, searching my face. “You like her.”
Letting go of all attachments is a prerequisite to joining the Bureau.
Since I was orphaned at eight, I didn’t have many attachments to begin with. It was easy to agree to the rules of the Bureau when I was starting out as a hitman.
I didn’t expect that a girl would change everything.
“If it’s not you, then I’ll have to assign someone else to do it,” he says.
“I’ve asked you this before, and I’ll ask you again. What did a twentysomething girl living in America ever do to Russia?”
Vlad gives me the side-eye.
“You’re a killer, Simon. Killing is what you do. It’s what we trained you for, and it’s what you’re good at. So I don’t understand why you’re going soft now.”
“I’m not going soft,” I snap.
“That’s what it looks like. This isn’t the first time you fucked up either. If this continues, we’ll have to let you go.”
“That’s actually what I called you here for,” I say, looking at the prima ballerina as she gracefully plays the role of a cursed swan falling in love with a prince.
I have Vladimir’s undivided attention now. “What?”
“I quit.”
“Quit? You can’t just quit.”
“I just did.”
The tempo of the music rises as the evil doppelgänger, the black swan, tries to seduce the prince by pretending to be someone she’s not.
I’ve lived my whole life pretending to be someone I’m not.
But Vera showed me that there are other possibilities as well.
“When you join the Bureau, you join it for life. You know this, Simon.”
“You were the one talking about letting me go.”
“I was just saying that to scare you into behaving.”
“Here’s a tip for next time. Don’t try to scare me into anything. It won’t work.”
The audience applauds as the prima ballerina performs a sequence of multiple fouettés, spinning in circles on one toe with her other leg bent to the side.
I applaud along with the rest of the crowd.
Because of my mama, I appreciate the sheer strength and elegance it takes to pull off that move.
After I was born, my mother made a living by teaching ballet to young girls and boys.
“My mother was a ballerina too,” I say, turning to Vlad. I have no clue why I’m sharing this, but I want someone to know that my mother had grace and fluidity.
Vlad’s gaze is fixed on the show.
And then he reaches for the vodka bottle in front of us and fills up an empty shot glass.
He makes a toast in Russian. “To mothers.”
With a heaviness in my heart, I lift my own glass. “To mothers.”
We drink, and then we watch the rest of the show in silence.
After my mother was taken, the streets of Moscow weren’t kind to me. I was sent to the Institute, where I lived for the next few years.
It wasn’t until I was nearly an adult that Vlad found me.
He trained and educated me with the skills I have today.
He turned me into this monster.
In the process, he also kept me fed and alive.
If there’s a reason I’m still alive today, it’s because of this man. He provided me with a livelihood even when he had no motivation to.
The dance and the music are heavy on the heart.
It’s a story of love and freedom.
The prima ballerina plays the part of both the white swan and the black swan. She’s the hero and the villain in the story.
Something about that reminds me of Vera.
She’s heroic, but the methods she uses can be classified as wicked.
It’s just the cards she was dealt.
And she’s making the best of it.
She’s holding on and surviving, and that’s all that really matters.
At the end of Act 4, we see the prince and the girl jump into the lake of tears, sacrificing their lives for something bigger than themselves. The rest of the cursed swans are freed because of that sacrifice. The lovers’ spirits are seen dancing away into the heavens.
Love for them came at a cost.
It’s never easy.
None of the good things in life are. But more often than not, choosing love is worth it.
The applause is thundering as the show comes to an end. Soon after the curtains close, the audience clears out.
Vladimir and I stay put.
I turn to him. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Do you know what else you’re going to do with your life?” he asks, exhaling softly.
“I’ll go on a meditation retreat, maybe. Find myself. Visit museums. Experience other cultures.”
“Funny,” he says. “But really, what will you do? You need constant stimulation, or you get bored.”
Again, I think about Vera.
I know she can keep my hands full for weeks.
I crave her in a way that is maddening.
“Are you saying that I can leave if I want to?” I ask, reading between the lines.
“The Bureau will try to hunt you down, but if anyone can disappear from this world, it’s you.”
“Will you send someone else after her?” I ask, trying to make my voice as carefree as possible.
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t. You can just skip Vera and go to the next person.”
“This isn’t a line at the supermarket, Simon. It’s the Bureau. The Russian Bureau. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to this.”
“I was a child when I agreed to this. I didn’t know shit.”
“Maybe that’s true, but it doesn’t change that you’re already a part of this. You’re in this for life, whether you like it or not.”
“I’ll start over. Change my name, get a new passport, a new identity, a new life.”
“You’ll leave Russia?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “I always wanted to go to Mexico.”
“You can try to run from this life, but this life is already a part of you.”
“Is that what you tell yourself every morning?”
“Simon.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I say.
“About Vera?” he asks.
“Da. Why are you so concerned about whether she’s alive or dead, Vlad?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he challenges.
I exhale sharply. “The rest of the men and women I killed were making the world a worse place. But Vera is different.”
“You’ve done your research,” Vlad says. “You’ve heard about her curse, haven’t you?”
I glance forward at the stage.
The entire play tonight was based around one giant curse.
“I don’t believe in things like curses,” I say.
“Neither do I,” Vlad says.
“Good. You’re smarter than I thought you were.”
Vlad ignores me. “She’s somehow involved in those men’s deaths. I don’t know how she pulled it off right under her father’s nose, but she did it.”
He doesn’t know then.
Nobody knows that Vera didn’t hire a killer.
She is the killer.
I wonder why people always underestimate women. If she were a man, they wouldn’t have assumed the same things.
“Okay, so she might not be completely innocent. But that doesn’t mean that we have to have her killed.”
“It’s the Bureau’s orders, Simon.” Vlad enunciates the words slowly like he’s speaking to a petulant child. “And they’re not going to change their minds just because you happen to be pussy-whipped.”
“I’d like to speak to them,” I say.
“Not possible.”
“I want you to speak to them then.”
“That’s not possible either. There are levels. And we’re at the very bottom of the chain.”
“Okay, then,” I say, standing up and grabbing my coat.
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” I say innocently.
“Which home?” Vlad sighs. I have one in Moscow, and I just bought a new one in Chicago after seeing Vera in a wedding dress.
“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” I say.
“Simon.”
I reach for the door handle. “What?”
“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid this time.” Something akin to worry settles between the creases of his forehead.
I wink, and give him the one-liner I reserve just for him. “Did I ever let you down, boss?”
“And take your medication every day,” he shouts after me.
Throwing my coat over my shoulders, I walk down the red velvet floors that lead to the exit. The Bolshoi Theatre is all neoclassical grandeur and glowing crystal chandeliers.
I wonder if Vera would have enjoyed the show.
I haven’t stopped thinking about her all day.
This isn’t just an obsession.
It’s evolution in process. My body is remaking itself so that Vera’s name is written on every cell.
For a minute there, I thought she’d be better off without me.
But after learning about the way she consumes every part of me, I know now.
She’s mine.
And as long as she doesn’t end up poisoning me to death, I’ll be hers.