Free Reckoning by Christine Fonseca

of tall plants and vines. Seven scanned the horizon with his eyes and his mind. Nothing. He walked to the house, his focus sharp. The front door of the house opened and two large men, Hawaiians by the look of them, descended the stairs. Seven slowed and leaned into the heavy vegetation, his gazed fixed on the two men.
    They talked in heavy voices, smiling as they circled around the small house and up a dirt path toward the road. Seven remained hidden. No point in unnecessary killing. That only led to complications. As soon as the Hawaiians were out of view, Seven ascended the stairs of the tiny house. The door was slightly ajar. He nudged it open and walked inside.
    A sharp scent of bleach assaulted his senses. Seven wrinkled his nose, trying to ignore the harsh smell. The house was comprised of only two rooms—a common living area and a bedroom. He moved quickly through the space, trying to pick up the Assassin’s presence. Nothing. The place was clean in every sense. Nothing of the Assassin or the Samurai remained, physical or otherwise.
    Seven paced. He knew this was where they were, he had felt them on the beach and along the path. “Where are you?” he asked no one.
    The door to the house opened and the two men filled the doorway.
    “What you doin’ here, brah?” the larger of the men asked. “Haoles not welcome here.”
    Seven faced the men. “I’m looking for a friend. She said she lived here.” Seven clenched his jaw and waited.
    The men poured into the cramped space and circled Seven.
    “No, no one livin’ here now.” The larger man took a step toward Seven.
    Seven nodded and smiled. He slammed into the men’s thoughts and filled them with images drawn from their nightmares. Murder and rape. The pictures streamed in rapid succession in their minds. They both took a step back, looks of shock etched on their faces.
    “You should’ve just told me what I needed to know. It would’ve been so much easier.” Seven pictured the men falling to their deaths. Imagined their eyes bulging as their carotid arteries closed and their lungs collapsed.
    In moments both men fell to the ground with a heavy thud, shock and horror still painted on their faces.
    “Too easy,” Seven mumbled as he stepped over one of the men and fled the house.
    He walked down the rocky path to the beach, clinging to the faint sense of the Assassin. “Where did you go?” Seven whispered to the memory echo of the elusive girl. “Where can I find you?”
    Is she found? The Creator’s words chased away the fading presence.
    No, my master. Only a piece of her memories.
    Rage, not his, bloomed in Seven’s chest and radiated upward to his mind. Rage and fear. He knew the Creator was disappointed. Angry. He had to figure out a way to find the girl.
    Let’s hope it wasn’t a mistake to trust you with this mission.
    Seven inhaled the threat in his Master’s words.
    I trust you will know where she is when I return.
    Yes, Master. Seven felt the rage subside, replaced by profound shame.
    His Master was disappointed. This could not happen again.
     

     
    Seven hated being on an airplane. Something about the number of people, the incessant noise of their thoughts unnerved him. He stared out the window, unable to see anything below the thick cloud deck. A crumbled picture balled in his hands. He smoothed it open and memorized every detail of the Google Earth image: the house at the top of a twisted road, the porch that wrapped around three sides of the two-story structure, and the pines that surrounded the back of the house. He was taking a risk going to Cambria. But something in his memories knew this was his best shot at finding the Assassin.
    Seven looked forward and closed his eyes. Darkness gave way to images of training sessions with the Architect. She had taught Seven how to see strategy, to anticipate his opponent’s moves. They’d played chess, sparred, and developed worst-case scenarios together. Seven’s heart clenched as her