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Zhil Mathas was one of the best accountants in the city. It wasn't that he could do magic with numbers or never made mistakes. It was that he had an innate skill at knowing when to ignore the right numbers. When certain accounts bubbled up or shrunk suddenly, he understood when to quietly funnel money around and keep his trap shut.

He had credited his success to the fact that he was a snake. One would think that the stereotype would work against him, but it drew enough people to notice him that more often than not it served to make him stand out. And for some reason people preferred predators to handle their numbers, so business was usually good.

The snake had just been closing shop when the power went out. He grabbed the phone to call out and found it dead. An angry tremor ran through his long form and he suddenly wished the gods had gifted him with poison in his teeth. He'd just have to make do with the revolver in his desk.

He was important, he reminded himself. He made bad numbers look like sweet innocent virginal little numbers and a lot of people did business with him because of that. He knew going in that there would be people that didn't like where those numbers came from or the fact that they didn't have any themselves. And those people might decide to do something about Zhil and his numbers, but his employers had supplied him with a long line of defense just in case. It would ruin a lot of people if the best accountant in the city met a bad end.

Zhil's sense of security shrunk considerably when he heard the screams in the hallway followed by several gunshots. His body felt the vibrations on the floor. One person, heavy footsteps, moving quickly.

He considered hiding in a closet but his sense of pride refused. This was just a simple mob hit. They probably expected him to cower and beg and he had no intention of it.

The desk might not be bullet proof but it made for good cover. He slid behind it and lined his pistol up at the door. Whatever came in, friend or foe, he intended to drop it quickly. A snake's body was built for moments like these. Everything tense and tight, waiting for the chance to strike.

The door never opened. The wood shuddered a little as if someone was pushing at it, but then something started to ooze through the cracks of it, a black smoky thing that moved like liquid.

Zhil's finger quavered on the trigger. Maybe this was a fancy door unlocking spell. As soon as it opened....

The smoke twisted and writhed and finally rose up into a living shadow. It surveyed the room and finally settled its gaze on the only other occupant.

Five shots rang out in the small office followed by a scuffling sound and a heavy thump; then a single pair of footsteps calmly walking away.

---

Copic marker and gelpen on canvasboard.