Mystic felt his eyes on her, studying carefully. She had no idea what he was waiting for. Peering up from the rim of a cup of coffee, she looked at him smiling sweetly from the far left of the coffee shop. He was surprised as his eyes landed on her. Mystic met his hazel eyes with a curt nod, as if he was a friend. She did not get a chance to look at him carefully last night before escaping: he was athletic, lean, moved swiftly around the room on guard, never allowing for anyone to get the jump on him.
There was a total of ten people in the coffee shop. Their stare down attracted some customers to glance between the pair while dragging their feet to the bathroom. He seemed to notice, approaching the counter to order a coffee: black.
He attracted eyes from women, they gawked as he passed, taking in his smell. The barista blushed as he paid, smiling sweetly but he was too annoyed to care or perhaps he had a one track mind, a man of focus and purpose.
He changed out of his assassin attire. He was now wearing a simple hoodie and jeans colored in black to better blend in background, to remain unseen with a baseball cap.
Mystic sipped her cup, intrigued by the mystery man. She wondered how he would endure on her table. What would his last words be?
“I want my knives back." He said calmly placing his mug on the table, sitting down across from me.
Mystic smiled. “I should call the police and report that I have a stalker.”
He sat back in his chair. “Really? For a woman who chops people up and pours acid on their bodies, I would think you would stay far away from the police.”
Mystic swirled her index finger around the rim of the coffee cup giggling. “Oh someone has heard of me, but you didn’t call the police now did you?” She relaxed into the seat licking her lips. She enjoyed the game they began to play. “Someone wants their money, bounty hunter?”
“I’m not a bounty hunter.”
“It doesn’t matter to me." Mystic tilted head slightly looking him over once more. His face was familiar, but she could not place him. Those eyes of hatred, she knew that look all too well.
“Give me my knives.” He demanded.
“Or what? You’re going to fall asleep on me again?”
The coffee shop door chimed attracting all ten customers; all eyes flew to the door as two police officers walked in. One was short and chubby and the other tall and skinny. It is funny how partners work; how one could be completely different than the other.
My attention turned back to the man in front of me, waiting patiently for his threat. He continued to stare at me, once again studying me. He cleared his throat once, twice then leaned forward as if to tell me a secret.
“Or I’ll tell those nice police officers who you really are, Mystic.”
Her heart sank, feeling the burning hatred simmer beyond her grasp but I wasn’t going to let him see it. She breathed and said smiled sweetly. “I don’t know who that is.”
“You have the burn on your right wrist, it looks like a moon crescent. I saw it last night and not many people have that mark, besides I gave it to you.”
“You have me mistaken with someone else."
The mysterious observer rested his cup on the table, he tipped the summery black coffee over as he reached for napkins. Mystic jumped back, being careful to contain her screams with a bite of her tongue.
"My apologies, darling." The mysterious observer grabbed Mystic's left wrist exposing the moon crescent burn. She realized her mistake and quickly retracted her hand from his grip.
The mysterious observer cleaned the area smirking. "I've been looking for you and I know your tricks."
"Who are you?" Mystic could not lie. She was entertained, excited even to play this new game, wondering what surprises this mysterious observer holds.
He was proud. Aware the tables had turned.
19 hours earlier...
