Number Seven sat in the windowless study of the Alpha safe house with two large whiskies inside him and a third in his hand and tried not to fume at Sorrow.

She had been cheerful and flippant since the moment they met and he hadn't expected her to take the job seriously. Everything changed the moment they arrived at the safe house. She had hustled him inside before he could get a proper look at the place, told him off for standing too close to the window, then insisted that he confine himself to the suite of windowless rooms that formed the core of the building. She was out there now with the SAS protection squad. They were checking the exterior and he was stuck inside with nothing but whiskey for comfort and goldfish for company.

Someone must have decided that the inmates of the safe house would need something moving to look at to compensate for the lack of windows so there were fish tanks in all the windowless rooms. In the study there was a huge fish bowl on a wooden stand with two large goldfish circling a sunken castle. There was a metal nameplate on the stand identifying the fish as Dolce and Gabbana. Seven wondered how you were supposed to know which was which.

He watched the fish circling the fake castle. They reminded him of bait fish circling in a tank on a boat. He thought of a little white fishing boat leaving safe harbour in Jamaica and heading out to fish for something big. The bait fish would be safe in the tank until it was time to throw them to the sharks. And that was why she was being so careful. Tonight he was in the safe house but in the morning she would put him back in the water to tempt something to bite. And at best he was only mostly safe here. If the shark was big enough and if it really wanted him it could always just eat the boat.

The study door creaked. Sorrow was back. She stripped off a knee length leather coat, flung it onto one of the arm chairs, threw herself into the other and put her feet up on the corner of the desk. 'It's freezing out there,' she said.

'Where did the coat come from?'

'I had them send my gear here while we were on our way over. It's already in the bedroom.' Strange that she hadn’t said ‘my bedroom’.

'Everything clear?' he said.

'As clear as you could hope for. What you drinking?'

'Whisky. Tastes like an Islay malt but I couldn't swear to the distillery. There's brandy if you'd prefer.'

'I'm not fussed. I'll drink anything. I'd suck the drips from a bar cloth if I was thirsty enough.'

He poured her a generous measure of the whisky. 'Should you really be drinking on duty?' He handed the tumbler to her.

'Well... I'm not really on duty now. And there's not enough booze in the house to slow me down.'

'That sounds like a challenge,' he said, 'think you can drink me under the table?'

'Ha. You should read my file again,' she said.

'Most of it is redacted.'

'Try reading it on your yPhone.'

He reached for the yPhone but then thought better of it. 'I'll look in the morning. The screen's too small.' Well it was too small for reading this late at night and after that much whisky but he wasn't about to admit that.

'Then unfold it.' She slid her thumbnail along the side of her own phone and opened it like a book. 'It helps if you have decent nails.'

On his phone most of the black marks had gone but he wasn't sure if he could believe what he was reading. The words Goddess and Avatar leapt off the page at him. Was this some sort of prank? 'Are you a Goddess?' he said. He was relieved that he'd had a couple of drinks because he would have hated to say something like that sober.

'Not exactly,' she said.

'That's not exactly bloody helpful.'

'Sometimes the Gods like to walk around on Earth. Sometimes they take control of a human and ride them around, like the Voodoo Loa do. Sometimes they build a body out of raw matter and climb into it and that's called an Avatar. But there's another kind of Avatar. Sometimes a God or Goddess will put a little of themselves in someone. That's what I am.'

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

'You have a God in your head?' he said.

'I'm a Raven. A handmaiden of the Morrigan. They tell me she started out as an Irish battle Goddess worshipped at fords and bridges but somehow she's stuck around. They say any woman, any child, and any warrior can call on her for aid. They say any woman can manifest the Morrigan but there's always a price to pay. She came to me the night after I passed selection and she made me an offer. She's not driving me but she's always there in the back of my head. She gives me gifts but there are prices to be paid.'

She paused looking as if she wasn't sure how much she should say, then, 'What about you? How do you get to be a Blank?'

'It's not easy. But it doesn't involve any Gods.' He refilled their glasses. 'They came for me when I was in the Navy. They're always looking for orphans with the right qualities. If you're fit enough and bright enough and driven enough and you don't have much in the way of family ties they offer you the chance to prove yourself. First you have to prove that you're not a psychopath. Then you have to prove that you can kill without hesitation or remorse. Then you just have to wait and work and keep on proving yourself till a current Blank dies or retires.'

'I would have thought your boss would love a pet psychopath,' she said.

'Psychopaths are too unreliable. They have a weak grasp on consequences and they can't read emotions properly. And they tend to be lazy. The easiest solution to a problem is usually to kill someone but that's not always the right solution.'

'You know a lot about psychopaths,' she said.

'I run into a lot.'

'People who aren't psychopaths but can kill without remorse must be almost as rare as Old Gods walking about the place.'

'Recruitment is a constant battle,' he said.

'So you always have a pool of recruits ready to go?' she said.

He nodded and sipped his whisky.

'Does that mean you could have been Number 1 if that number had come up first?' she said.

'No. Each number comes with certain requirements. I was never up for Number One. I could have made Three or Five and maybe Six if they'd been desperate but I'm really not subtle enough.

'Why not One, Two, or Four?' she said.

'One is always a gay man. Two is always female and Four has to look like a child. Like I said, certain requirements. What about those gifts the Goddess gave you? What are they?'

'I'm sure you'll work it out but I've got to maintain my feminine mystique somehow.'

'How can I trust you to watch my back if you don't tell me anything?'

Sorrow didn’t answer immediately. She held his gaze while considering it. 'I'm a bit stronger and a bit quicker and a bit more durable than I was before. I heal faster too. My senses are much more acute and I don't have to worry about hunger, thirst, fatigue or cold. I mean I still feel them they just can't kill me. And I'm a lot more resistant to toxins which is why it's so hard to get drunk.'

Seven let the silence hang in the air. Hoping that she'd feel compelled to fill it and tell him more. It didn't work. She seemed perfectly at peace with the silence.

'The price you pay,' he said, 'Is it worth it?'

She stared at the fish tank for a moment before speaking, 'I think so. I gave up things I had no intention of using and I got things that let me take care of people. How about the price you pay?'

'What price?' he said. 'I earned this.'

'Whatever you say, sweetheart. Bottoms up.' She drained her glass.

'How much would it take to get you drunk?' said Seven.

'If I start necking whole bottles of high proof spirits I can get a bit tipsy but the Department doctors reckon that I metabolise alcohol faster than I can drink it. If I wanted to get properly drunk it would have to be intravenously,' she said.

'Does that mean that if I get really drunk you'll have to carry me to bed?' said Seven.

'It means I'll have to get you to bed, and if you're that drunk you won't remember how, and I guarantee you will wake up with a terrible headache,' she said.

'Still tempted.'

'If you're after a shag you could just try asking. I'm either going to say yes or no and flirting isn't going to change my mind. But make up your mind soon because I'm going to bed. Early start in the morning.'

'Why an early start?' said Seven.

'I want to check the exterior at first light. But mainly it's cause I love dragging officers out of bed at stupid o'clock in the morning, sir,' she said. She stood up.

'Early mornings, no flirting and I'm bait for unknown assassins. I'm in hell.'

'You're really not. I've been. There's no goldfish in hell.' Sorrow swung an entire bookcase away from the wall revealing a cast iron spiral staircase. As she climbed the stairs she called down to him, 'When you're finished punishing your liver pull the bookcase shut behind you.'

He watched her go. He could finish the rest of the whisky. It was very good. But that beautiful, terrifying woman was on her way to bed and, given his reputation, if he didn't make a pass she might be offended. Did he want to offend a woman with a Goddess in her head? Did he want to offend the woman who was watching his back?