FicWad

It is said that an artist creates things that people want but do not need.

If King was to consider this, and he rarely did, then he would probably be inclined to agree.

King was not the type of man who would think deeply about art, whether it be his or anyone else’s. He considered himself an artist, he was sure others would disagree, but it was not his problem to consider that. The only thing that he needed to commit his mind to was his job and that needed practical thinking not philosophical musings. However, it would be wrong to say that King was incapable of being philosophical when he wanted to be.

To the shady characters of the city’s underbelly and even to his clients King was nothing more than a paid assassin. He was no better than the common cut throats of centuries past; it did not matter how he killed people the ending was still the same as any other murder and that made him the same as any other killer.

King didn’t disagree with that point of view. He killed alone and so he did not expect anyone to understand his methods. But he of course knew better… He knew what he was and that was an artist.

“You know… The beauty about art is that it is purely subjective.” King span on his heel, turning to face his new victim with a soft smile. “Do you like art Lady Marwick?”

The woman, Lady Marwick, raised her eyebrows at King and shrugged, apparently more interested in lighting her cigarette than listening to what the young man was saying to her.

“I suppose.” She sighed, her cigarette finally catching and she inhaled a deep lungful of smoke as she placed the used match into the ashtray in front of her. “All the art you’ll find here was bought years ago before I was even born; none of it is of interest to me.”

The Marwick’s, a well off family, lived in a large country home some miles from the city. Twenty people could have comfortably lived in the house, but the only inhabitants were Lord and Lady Marwick and their toy poodle, Florence. Once it had been venue to large, extravagant parties, but now it reeked of dust and decay. Lately the only visitor who ever came by was Frank, Lady Marwick’s much younger lover.

“You’ll find most of the paintings upstairs. I trust you can show yourself around.” Lady Marwick spoke in a bored tone, her gaze fixed on her cigarette as she tapped the end against the side of her ashtray. King smiled pleasantly at her, his hands resting behind his back as he continued to stand exactly where he was, it only taking Lady Marwick a moment before she slowly lifted her head to quirk an eyebrow at him.

“The stairs are just in the entrance hall, where you came in.” She reminded him, frowning when King still didn’t move.

“Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll look at the paintings just yet.” King’s lips tugged into a slow smile as he looked at Lady Marwick, sauntering towards her at a leisurely pace. “I wish to talk to you first…”

Lady Marwick raised her eyebrows at King, shrinking back into her seat as he neared her. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, as if she was some sort of prize he was hoping to win. On instinct she crossed her legs and wrapped one arm across her body, though she held her other arm out so that there was no fear of her cigarette dropping ash onto her damask couch.

King had come to the Marwick’s residence on the behest of Lord Marwick. He had met the man only one week ago and it had taken no time at all to arrange a deal, receive his payment and have the old man set up a meeting between himself and his wife. Lady Marwick had been told by her husband that King was an artist who had contacted him after hearing of his family’s extensive art collection. He told her that King wanted to look at a few of the original pieces they owned; the lady had had no reason to suspect either her husbands or the artist’s intentions. Her husband was a dreary, aging fat man who never did anything interesting or out of the ordinary. They had been married for thirty two years, what reason did she have to ever believe he would seek to harm her?

“Is your husband not home lady?” King asked smoothly, coming to a halt with barely a gap between his and Lady Marwick’s legs. He knew full well that the man of the house was absent, he had made sure of it.

“No he isn’t.” Lady Marwick sniffed, glaring up at King. “He had to run some errands.” The Lady didn’t like how King was standing so close to her, but if he thought he was going to intimidate her that easily he was wrong. Lady Marwick had been rather beautiful when she was young, and she wasn’t unattractive now even at fifty two years of age; she had had to fight off many men in her lifetime and she doubted this artist would be much of a challenge.

“If you’re not here to look at the paintings then you can leave.” She told King, going to get to her feet and push past him but to her surprise King gripped her shoulders and pushed her forcefully back down into the couch. Lady Marwick stared up at the artist with wide eyes and parted lips, her anger rising inside her like a tidal wave but King had started to pace back and forth in front of her and she found herself sitting still to listen as he spoke.

“Now now… Let’s not get ourselves all worked up.” King purred, keeping his head turned so his gaze never left Lady Marwick’s face. “We haven’t even introduced ourselves properly.” King paused in his pacing, turning to face Lady Marwick head on as he smiled sweetly at her. “What may I call you, Lady Marwick?”

“You may call me Lady Marwick.” The woman replied curtly, going to get up again but she hesitated when King moved his hands from where they had been pushed into his suit pockets and she knew he would only push her down again. “I think you should leave –”

“What do your friends call you, Lady Marwick?” King’s voice was harder now, barely noticeable between its usual soft sing-song qualities, but Lady Marwick got the impression he was not going to be patient with her. She opened her mouth to tell him to get out again since he had ignored her, but King interrupted her before she could even start. “What does Frank call you?”

Lady Marwick opened her mouth and then promptly shut it again, her cheeks tinging pink as she stared at King in silent shock. For a moment she was unable to say anything, her heart racing as she stared suspiciously at the young man.

“I… How do you know about him?”

“Details aren’t important, what is important is your name.” King purred the last word like a dirty secret, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of his game as he grinned at the aging woman. He had a good range of clients and thus a fair mix of victims, but it was nearly always men he was asked to kill. Whenever he was given a female victim the excitement was barely containable.

Lady Marwick continued to stare at King in silent horror. She was beginning to feel fear creep up on her. Who was this man and how did he know about her lover? She suddenly wished Frank was with her, or even her husband; she suddenly didn’t feel so confident that she could over power King.

“Lady Marwick… Tell. Me. Your. NAME.” The sudden shouting caused the Lady to jump and gasp in her horror, dropping her cigarette onto the floor as her hands automatically gripped the edge of the couch.

“S – Sarah!” She squeaked without thinking, her cheeks growing a deeper shade of red as she took a deep breath and tried to compose. “My name is Sarah.”

King sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, opening them again with a smile.

“There now, that wasn’t so hard was it?” He purred, calmly stepping forward to crush the still burning cigarette into the carpet before it could create a fire. “You know that’s a lovely name… Sarah.” King said thoughtfully, standing back again and looking up to the ceiling as if he had had an epiphany. “Biblical.”

Sarah kept silent as she watched King; the man had started to pace again, walking to one end of the couch she was sat on and then the other, looking at her the whole time.

“The highest art is always the most religious,” King’s voice suddenly rang out, loud and booming as he stopped pacing again and looked to the ceiling once more, “and the greatest artist is always a devout person.” King dropped his head to look at Sarah, his lips curling into a twisted smile. “Abraham Lincoln.” He said simply before resuming his pacing.

“You know, I never went to art school.” King looked at Sarah from the corner of his eyes, giving a fake sad pout. “But I do consider myself an artist. A GREAT artist even.” He sighed, his voice taking on a melancholy edge. “I even try to be devout… I do.” He sighed, nodding his head at Sarah. “But it’s so difficult…” He groaned, rolling his head back on his shoulders as he turned to face Sarah again. “When people are just disgusting… filthy… SINNERS!”

Sarah gasped and jumped at King’s sudden roar, a cry of horror escaping her lips when he suddenly lunged at her, planting his hands onto the couch seat either side of her so that she was caged between him and the back of the furniture.

“Get away from me!” She gasped, trying to push him away but he was like a statue, his strength surprising. He didn’t seem to be hiding any muscles beneath his smart suit and yet he must have been.

“Shh, shh, shh…” King hushed Sarah gently, shaking his head at her. “Just calm down…” He whispered, smiling softly at her as if it had been her who had had the outburst. Sarah just continued to stare at him with wide, nervous eyes.

“Now… Sarah… Darling Sarah…” King sighed, lifting his hand to the woman’s face and stroking his fingertips down to her neck. “My name is King… And I am going to give you the chance to repent for your sins.” He breathed quietly, sharing the words like a prayer before jumping back as Sarah gasped in shock and pressed a hand to her neck.

“Ow!” Sarah’s eyes were wider than ever as she clutched her neck and slowly drew her hand away. Her palm was clean but she could have sworn King had scratched her with something. The side of her neck hurt as if she had been poked with a needle and she got to her feet with a snarl. “Right, I’ve had just about enough of this!” She announced, striding towards King who just gazed at her calmly. “I don’t know who you are or how you know about Frank, but I don’t care. Get OUT of my house!”

“You’re going to die Sarah.” King’s voice was soft and almost monotone, Sarah barely registering his words but then she slowly stopped, her fists raised to beat against Kings chest. She would have ignored him and continued to force him out of her house, except something about his calmly spoken words rung true. Something about the scratch to her neck and a churning in her stomach that made her listen.

“Sit down.” King ordered, pushing Sarah back onto the sofa before he grabbed one of the matching damask chairs and pulled it up so that he could sit opposite her. He draped once leg gracefully over the other and folded his hands in his lap, smiling softly at Sarah for a moment before he reached into his pocket and produced a gold pocket watch.

“I have just injected you with an extremely deadly toxin called Saxitoxin. The symptoms may begin to take effect anywhere between the next five or thirty minutes, so forgive me if I rush in all I’m about to tell you.” King’s voice had dropped low, resonating deep in his throat as he grinned widely at Sarah. He was deliberately changing the pitch of his voice to frighten her, the growing paleness of her skin making him feel smug to know he was succeeding.

“You’re lying, you –”

“No no. Don’t speak. Just listen.” King ordered, leaning back in his chair and holding the pocket watch by its chain so that it dangled in front of Sarah, her eyes drawn to the small, ticking hand that moved around the face.
“Your husband asked me to come here.” King sighed, tapping his knee with his free hand as if he were bored. “I’m sure you thought you’re little affair was a secret.” King’s eyes suddenly sparkled as he looked at Sarah’s terrified face, laughing heartily to himself. “Very foolish of you really, very foolish indeed.” He giggled, brushing an imaginary crease out of his trousers.

“Listen to me, I –”

“SILENCE!” King’s face suddenly contorted into a look of rage and Sarah cried out as she pressed into the back of the sofa and began to cry softly. “What did I TELL you about keeping QUIET?” King’s eyes were ablaze as he glared at Sarah for a long moment, his teeth clenched and his jaw tense for a second before he slowly sank back down into his seat and managed to compose himself. He took a deep breath and brushed a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment before he looked at Sarah with his usual calm smile.

“Apologies. I do hate to be interrupted, especially when you could only have, ooh –” King looked at the watch. “Two minutes left before you really start to lose concentration.” King knew he had to carry on talking and he sighed as he tried to resume his previous flow of thought.

“Now then, as I was saying. Your husband asked me to come here… He found out about your little affair and he wants his revenge.” King gave Sarah a small smirk, though he tried to sound sympathetic. “Now don’t think I’m killing you because you’re a dirty cheat…” King purred, smiling sweetly. “If you had come to me and asked me to kill your husband so you could run away with your precious Frankie then I would have done it, for a fee.” King shrugged and glanced at the time again, smirking as he looked at Sarah.

“Feel anything yet?”

“No…” Sarah wasn’t sure why she was answering him, she didn’t want any part of his sick narrative and she considered getting up and trying to make him leave again. Or maybe she could just make a run for it, but something inside her knew that it was impossible. King wouldn’t be sitting so calmly if there was any chance she could escape, that much was obvious.

King sighed, disappointed that the poison hadn’t taken effect yet, but he shrugged it off. It would only be a matter of time.

“Well, needless to say your darling husband wasn’t able to pay for both yours and Frankie’s death. So he was forced to choose between the two of you.” King cocked his head to the side, smiling at the tears in Sarah’s eyes. “You can take comfort knowing your little play thing is safe.”

“Frank…” Sarah choked, breathing his name as if it would somehow help her. King ignored her, continuing to speak as he watched her intently.

“The poison currently inside your body is produced by red tide algae. It acts as a channel blocker in the nervous system and will lead to paralysis and inevitable death.” The calm way in which King talked about the toxin only made Sarah feel even more frightened and she slowly ran her fingers beneath her lower lip as a tingling sensation surrounded her mouth.

“It usually kills by being ingested when people eat things like muscles, oysters – oh.” King stopped and a slow grin split his features. “You’re starting to feel it.” He breathed, his voice taking on a sinister edge and he looked at the pocket watch. “Only eight minutes… very impressive…” He mumbled as if to himself, starting to wrap the chain around the watch as he looked at Sarah whose fear was increasing along with the tingling sensation.

“I’m sure you’re currently feeling a tingling sensation around your mouth.” King spoke in a clear, professional voice, leaning to put the watch in his pocket. “This will start spreading to your neck and the rest of your face and gradually become a numbness.” King waited a moment, giving Sarah time to register his words as she began to rub both hands over her face and neck in terror.

“You may also begin to feel dizzy, and your head will ache.” King continued, watching the woman closely. “You may begin to feel sick and could very well vomit. You will feel as if your throat is constricting and you will struggle to breathe. Your speech will become incoherent.” King’s voice became less and less clinical and more excited with each word, his body feeling as though it was tingling with a sort of electricity as he watched Sarah’s panic grow.

“It will take anywhere between two and twelve hours for you to become fully paralysed. Without respiratory help you will die.” King couldn’t help but smile then, Sarah beginning to struggle to breathe as she clutched at her throat.

“Your husband wanted a slow death for you… and poison is a woman’s weapon.” King smiled and made no move to follow when Sarah suddenly lunged to her feet and tried to run from the room. She felt disorientated and in her panic she stumbled several times, crashing into furniture and whimpering as the door wavered in front of her.

“Lord Marwick will go to the local pub tonight, where he will become extraordinarily drunk and stay at a friend’s house.” King got to his feet and practically skipped to the dying woman. “That gives you plenty of time to die – but don’t worry. I won’t let you be alone. I will stay right with you until you breathe your very last.” King smirked as he grabbed Sarah by the hair and dragged her out of the living room and into the small dining room where she would eat whenever she was alone.

“Sit here my darling.” He said sweetly, pushing her into a chair at the table and sliding it beneath the solid oak wood top. He would set a place for her and put the plate of contaminated sea food in front of her once she was dead, but for now he simply sat down in the middle of the table top, crossing his legs beneath himself and resting his chin on his hands ready to watch the woman die.
*
“Sir? You might want to take a look at this.” A drawing slid across the desk the broad man was sat behind, peeling the skin off an orange with a small knife. He was side on to the desk but he turned his head to look at what had been pushed in front of him. “There’s been a man asking around for you.”

The broad man suddenly span in his chair to face forward, dropping his orange and slamming his knife blade first into the desk so that it wobbled on the point as he snatched up the piece of paper. Staring back at him was a biro sketch of his own face, though you wouldn’t recognise him from it now. The sketch depicted a much more youthful face than the one he had now; though the drawing was by no means perfect, it certainly would have helped a stranger recognise him twenty years ago.

“Who?” The broad man’s voice was deep, coming out in a snarl as he questioned who had been using this drawing to try and find him. “How do you come to have this, and not the man who made it?” He growled, lifting his eyes to the man in front of him though he stayed hunched over the desk.

“One of the Cresswell boys had it.” The smaller man replied, his voice calm. “They said they were given it by some nobody on the street. Apparently he’s just some guy who keeps asking for help for certain things. He wanted to know how to contact that King bloke, and now he’s asking around for you.” The man shrugged, it all too clear that he didn’t think the picture posed a problem but the broader man still looked furious as he slowly rose to his feet.

“For fifteen years I’ve kept myself out of trouble.” He said slowly, his fists clenching. “And now you’re telling me some nobody is parading around with this drawing and asking mobsters where I am!?” Suddenly he grabbed his knife from the table and pointed it sharply at his companion.

“You find this nobody and you bring him to me! Now!” He shouted, his eyes blazing and the smaller man raised his eyebrows, lifting his hands as a sarcastic sign of surrender.

“Alright, calm down.” He scoffed, used to dealing with such high tempers and he rolled his eyes as he took the drawing back off the desk. “I’ll find him.” He promised, shrugging as if it was nothing before he turned and left the room without another word, the broader man watching him with wide, panic filled eyes.

The smaller man folded up the drawing and placed it back into his jacket pocket, unphased by the broad man’s temper and he ignored the sounds of objects getting flung across the room as he walked down the stairs and out of the building.
It was just business as usual.