Chapter 11: The Killing Hour

   Mizzle and fog blurred and dimmed the brightest lights still capable of shining through them, coloring the port with gray-white shadows, and the wetness put fine drops of water on the fine hairs that were still uncovered on Karis and Zephyr as they walked.

       Karis pulled her cloak tighter against the slow, chilly night breeze coming in from the ocean.

      Zephyr walked a step or so behind her, reluctant to do the grim task awaiting him.

      “Karis, are you sure?”

      “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

      They walked out to the end of one of the empty piers, where the fog was thicker.

      The gentle smack of water on wood was the only other sound than their breathing.

      “Besides,” she continued, “we walked all this way for expedience. You won’t have to figure out how to get rid of my body when you can just put it in the ocean.

      “Don’t go back on your word, Zephyr. Don’t delay it, and don’t drag it out.”

      “And what of Gale?”

      “Inconsolable. The barkeep gave me a drink to help her sleep. She’ll be fine by morning, and though she likely won’t forgive you, she won’t abandon you.”

      “I’m not so sure.”

     Karis chuckled. “I am. A blind man would see she’s in love with you.”

     “What?” 

     “Figure of speech. Let’s get this done.” She took off the cloak and unfastened her blouse, looking out at the shrouded black ocean as she turned her back.

     “Draw your knife, son.”

     He did, embracing her, placing the blade against her heart, but his hand was shaking.

     She took his wrist in her hands, and guided him. 

     “Together, then.”

     She didn’t see him close his eyes as his tears fell, and he pushed while she pulled, her nails raking his skin. 

     The warm blood soaked them where the wound was made.

     “Finish it,” she managed. 

     He flinched at the cry of pain from her as he twisted the knife, then dropped it as she slumped into his arms, the scratches on his wrist burning as he lowered her gently onto the wet wood, sitting there with her, and allowed himself grieve, muffling his sobs into her shoulder, smelling the exotic scent she liked to wear.

     Faint as a last echo, he heard the footsteps of two men on harbor patrol approaching. 

     “You hear something?” one said.

     “Might have. Sounded like a little yelp.”

     “What the hell would be way out here in this weather, at this hour of the night, that’s not getting paid?”

     Zephyr whispered, “Goodbye, Karis,” into her ear, and lowered her into the water so as not to splash. He also let go of the knife, not wanting any part of it.

     The steps came a little closer, then stopped for a moment.

     “See? I told you. Nothing here. Let’s go back.”

     “All right. We can warm up too. Colder now than it was before.”

     “I’ve got some rum left. That’ll help.”

      “That it will.”