End Of The Rainbow

Teresa Haas stared out into the darkness. There was not much keeping out the chill of winter, she could still feel the bite of the temperature when the wind blew hard enough to rattle the antiquated window. She was bundled up, but not enough. The blanket spread over her tiny body was thin and stiff, not providing ample warmth. 

She hated many things, the cold, night and waiting were just three examples of a long list. Right now, all the boxes were being checked for her to be mad. Teresa had every reason to be angry, but the anxious jitters running through her body overpowered any displeasing thoughts. She had a task to complete. That was all. If she did it, then she could have all she ever wanted. She would be rich beyond comparison. 

So, Teresa put up with sitting in front of a broken window in the middle of the night. She just wished this night would be over with, she could already imagine escaping to some eternally temperate paradise. Her mind was racing with thoughts, and she couldn’t pin any down, they all flowed through her head like water. She was thinking of her family's bodies decaying in the ground after the epidemic. She was thinking about how the money she was going to earn could have saved their lives. She was thinking about Amelia being forced into the armed forces that are sent to war fronts and violent cities. She was thinking about every penniless citizen being turned out of their homes after the war had started and real estate prices rose. 

Teresa was doing this for them. She was doing this for her dead family. She was doing this for Amelia. 

Teresa was snapped out of her thoughts. A carriage had arrived at the abandoned warehouse she was residing in. This was the sign, she had to move now. She tossed the blanket to the side and jumped from two stories up, where the window sill she had been sitting on was located. 

Her heart thundered in her chest, and it paused for a moment—the moment right before her blood spattered the ground. That was when she balled up and rolled until she lost enough momentum to get up. She stood and grabbed the knife that was sheathed at her ankle, she would need it. 

She scampered to the door. And exactly three seconds later, the door opened. Mistress Ubelste stepped inside. If Teresa imagined she was having a bad night, she guesses the mistress was having a worse one. 

“Where am I? That thoughtless driver.” Mistress Ubelste snapped, not noticing the small young woman who was standing beside her. 

Teresa would not regret what she was going to do next. 

Mistress Ubelste was a bantam woman, with an evil kind of élan. She was known for her manners and methods of torture. Her auburn hair was pulled into a chignon so tight it gave Teresa a headache just seeing it. She saw no similarities between this woman and herself, but Jax had seen something in Teresa—probably the physical similarities to the mistress—and that was why she was about to risk her life for a man—boy—she just met. And a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. 

Jax was a heartless man, with cruel eyes, but with a warm face. He had the looks of a sweet boy, but his warped heart inside was what broke everything. But he had not broken her and that was also why she was here. Because nothing could break her. But she could break everything. 

She stabbed Mistress Ubelste five times, just to be sure. One of the few things she liked was certainty. And that was why, even after blood was smeared over her fingers and under her nails, she checked for a pulse. And pleased to find that there wasn’t one, she moved onto the next phase of the plan. 

She quickly washed her fingers, turning the water in the sink a lovely shade of rose. She was surprised when Jax told her there was a sink. The abandoned navel warehouse, once used for holding wooden containers for overseas travel, had running water. It was built over half a century ago when running water was a fascinating new technology. It was not a very large sink, because having a larger one would have been more money wasted. And everything is money. 

She never understood why a boat place would need a sink, but now she didn’t care. It was a relief. The water washed away the blood and the instantaneous guilt that came with ending a life left too. 

Teresa changed into her costume. She supposed that it technically wasn’t a costume. This was the fashion of wealthy young women. But once she was securely tucked into the ornate dress and her hair was done up in a fancy knot, it felt like she was an actress. And soon, she would have to go onto stage, trying to convince the world she was something she was not. It was a good thing that she liked playing a role, and that she was good at it, she would need it for the rest of the night. 

She took a deep breath, pulled on her mask, and stepped onto the lamp-lighted street. 

It was brighter out in the heart of the night than it was in the warehouse. There had been little light inside, most of it had come from the magnificent city right outside its window. And as she stepped onto the illuminated cobblestone, the eldritch darkness—which she hated—was replaced with a light wanting. 

“Madame Udelste, I was beginnin’ to worry,” The carriage driver said. 

She waved a hand at him. It passed as a condescending nonchalance, instead of an impossible verbal reply. She could not speak, and she could not be analyzed, or they would find that she was not who they thought she was. 

She didn’t like to be rude to people who didn’t deserve it—but that was not who she was right now. She got into the body of the beast, sealing her fate. There was no backing out now. Not that she would if she had the chance to, it wasn’t even the money keeping her in place, she had too much pride and dignity. She was going to prove herself to Jax, even if it wasn’t required. 

With a lurch, the coach began to move. She went through a breathing exercise her late father taught her, though it brought her no reprieve. She offered a silent prayer to her father.

There was little to do in the cabin, so she twirled her knife. It was the one her father had given to her, and with it, he also gave a name. Jax. That was also why she was on this asinine adventure. Because of a knife that her dead father had given her as he was dying of a disease that had a cure, but one that no one cared to hand out to the poor. Jax had been her savior, and now it was another Jax that hired her to give her another chance. 

She glanced out the window. The restless city was a soft buzz of noise outside her carriage, and it was all a slow blur as they drove through. 

The carriage rolled to a stop. She prepared herself, but she had barely a second to do so before a servant was opening the door to another life. To a party. 

Her high-heeled feet found the steps out of the carriage, and she found herself outside a mansion. This was where the fun began. 

She was at the back of the mansion. The massive walls carved from smooth marble glimmered in the dim moonlight. The walls whispered of past encounters with mortals, of clandestine assignations and brutal assassinations. Within the walls, there were far more interesting events. Ones that were whispered across the land and ones that never left the cold lips of the dead. That was the life of the rich. That was the life of Jax, who now waited for her at this restricted entrance. There was a party going on, and they were both dressed for it, but they were here for a different sort of fun. 

Jax held out his arm. He was a strategist in a well-tamed boy’s body. His cruel, salt eyes glimmered with anticipation. He wanted this night to be over like she did, but for different reasons. But they would both be different people at the end of the night. At the end of the rainbow. 

He appeared thin, but she knew all too well how strong he could be when he wanted to cause pain. And he used every asset he possessed to do what he wished. He had a whole arsenal at his disposal. He had money, talent, attractiveness, and a family. Everything she didn’t have. That was why she didn’t understand why they were doing this. That was why she didn’t understand why they were at his house.  

“Let’s go.” His voice was silky smooth, nothing like how it should sound. If his voice reflected his personality, his voice should be gravelly and rough. But that silk tone was how he got into ladies' silks. 

She simply nodded her head in reply. She could have spoken if she wanted to, it was only Jax and her. The carriage had silently vacated some time ago, and she hadn’t noticed, but when she looked behind her, she saw it was gone. 

They walked the length of the wall, the tension inside her growing with every step. They were almost there. She could feel it. Jax stopped. She couldn’t see anything. He pressed an invisible switch of some kind. A door swung open. Jax looked at her. She thought he could hear her heartbeat galloping through her eardrums. 

He leaned forward. She stilled. 

“Are you sure?”

Those three words sounded tantalizing. But those words meant something different to her than to all the other women he whispered to. She silently trudged onward. She would not be cowed. 

She could hear his velvety laugh and his shoes clicking on the hard floors. She was in a marble tomb. There was only one route ahead. 

She walked on for some distance, she didn’t know how far they’d come, they weren’t there yet, but she was ready.

Finally, a hand brushed her arm. She immediately tensed. She grabbed her arm back, already reaching for the invisible harness at her thigh. This sheath was carrying something more. Something deadlier. Not her weapon of choice. But Jax’s. Everything was Jax’s choice. 

She heard a soft whirring and turned to see a door opening. Light and music drifted out. They stepped in. And everything was exactly how Jax said it would be. 

Jax's father. And a woman, but not Jax’s mother. Maybe this was the reason. 

“Jax?”

Was the last thing she heard before the gunshot. 

And then she heard screaming over the ringing in her ears. For a second she thought it was her. She brought her hand up to her mouth, but cold metal stopped her. This was why a gun wasn’t her weapon of choice. It always got in the way.

It was the woman who was screaming. Was. A gunshot silenced her too. Now there were two piles of red in the bed. 

There was a click. She turned. Jax had locked the study doors. It had become a marble tomb. They only had moments. People had to have heard the gunshot. 

A thump on the door alerted her. They were here. And they moved on to another phase. 

“Please help,” Jax said. But this was not Jax. This was an actor, a devil playing an angel. 

“We're going to help you, Jax, what happened? The doors are locked.” A voice from the other side replied to the character Jax was playing. 

“There is a girl in here. She shot my father. She made me lock the doors. You have to send in my mother, or she’s going to shoot me too.” 

“Yes Jax, wait one minute.” 

And so they waited.

A gentle voice called out, “Jax, it’s me. Tell her it’s your mother. You know my voice.”

Jax gave me a devilish smile and nodded. This was the Jax that everyone on the trashy side of the city knew. This was the Jax that everyone whispered about, the one that killed mercilessly. The one that planned out everything. The one that hired me to kill his parents. He wanted his pot of gold as much as I did. And we were almost to the end of the rainbow. 

The lock clicked again, and his mother came in. She was pretty, but she would soon be dead along with her husband and her husband's mistress. I had the gun aided at her head. The lock clicked again. 

She learned how to shoot a gun two years ago. And since then, She’d never missed. 

Her eyes—Jax’s eyes—trailed over to her husband. They held no remorse. No fear. She respected Mistress Ashwell. 

“He deserved it. I don’t. Let me go. Let Jax go.” Mistress Ashwell tried to reason with her as if she was the one coordinating all of it. She could have laughed. 

Mistress Ashwell squinted, observing her. “Mistress Ubelste? Ah, no but similar. I bet that is how you entered.”

“Do it,” Jax Ashwell said unflinchingly. 

Mistress Ashwell was stunned. And she still didn’t know the other half of the story. Then her eyes hardened. And she couldn’t react fast enough. Mistress Ashwell threw herself at her. 

The gun flew out of her hand, and they both toppled to the floor. Mistress Ashwell was on top of her. She was hitting her and scratching her. She moved her arms to defend herself, but they were useless. Ashwell was stronger than she looked. But she would not lose.

She landed a few blows on the mistress’s face, causing groans to come from her, but they were futile attempts. Mistress Ashwell pinned her arms to the ground and kept them there with her knees. Then, the air left her lungs. She was being choked. 

She flailed her arms, but they wouldn’t move. Ashwell had the advantage. She bucked uncontrollably. But she could not push Ashwell off. She slowed. She was losing power. She was running out of air. 

Jax stared. Not bothering to help either of them. He didn’t care who won or lost. If she died, he would kill his mother himself and spin a lie. 

She stopped moving. She wasn’t going to move again. And so she stilled. And waited. Waited for death.

Her eyes closed. She would die with dignity. 

She felt herself loosening, or were those Mistress Ashwell’s hands? She could no longer tell. It was all fading together. And the darkness—which she so loathed—was claiming her.

She would die with dignity. Or she would not die at all. She bucked with all the power she could muster.

She caught Mistress Ashwell off guard, she must have thought she was dead. But she would not die that easily.

She opened her eyes and the light came back, and so did Jax’s eyes on Ashwell’s face. She used her newly unpinned arms to hit Mistress Ashwell. The stunning blow tipped Ashwell’s balance and using the changing weight, she got Ashwell underneath her. 

Then, she choked Ashwell. When she appeared to be dead, to be sure, she shot Mistress Ashwell. And she checked for a pulse.

“Have you completed your bloodthirsty ritual?” Jax was standing, staring, analyzing.

She was done acting. Teresa nodded.

“Wonderful.” Jax moved to the office desk, it had an aggregation of papers and personal items. Ignoring all of the papers on top, he reached into one of the lower drawers and pulled out a key. And jangled it. He moved to the vault in one of the corners. What a stupid place to keep the money.

He unlocked it and grabbed the large knapsack within. It jingled as he removed it. That sound was music to her ears.

He tossed the bag to her and she caught it. Teresa frowned at him. 

“That is all yours. Your reward. I now have my own fortune, which I just inherited, so I do not need it. It is about one hundred and fifty thousand. Now, I will help you escape.”

This shocked her. He was not known for his generosity nor his helpfulness. 

“Unless you want to be killed now, let’s leave.”

And so they left. Jax shattered the window directly behind the desk. And proffered his arm. Teresa waved a hand at him and ripped off the skirt of her dress. She had on thin pants which would help her survive the two-story fall. Then she leaped. And right before she died from the impact, she rolled. 

Then, she ran. She turned back only once, to offer a silent wave to the man in the broken window. 

Then, she kept going. 

She kept running. 

She did not see the slow, silent wave from the man in the broken window.

Teresa was at the end of the rainbow.