by ToCauson
there if no one is left to kill, or if I’m not around to kill people?”
“That’s a very positive outlook to have,” said Grim, “how did Kensuke find out about Mr Big?”
Gerald shrugged. “Some drunk guy in a bar, Kensuke was looking for work and this guy had the answers.”
“So, Kensuke won’t know where Mr Big is,” said Grim to himself, “but this man might.” He looked back at Gerald. “Who was this man?”
“I dunno,” he said, “some guy.... what was his name? Ivis..... Ivis Montague.”
Grim stepped back with a stunned expression on his face. Patience looked him in the eye. “You know this guy?”
“Yeah, he’s one of the Imperium’s informants. Looks like we’ll be paying him a visit. Thank you very much Gerald.” Grim slapped the handcuffs onto his wrists and called for someone to pick him up. This was not a good day to be a criminal.
9
X MARKS THE SPOT
Mercy
Mercy sat beside the window with the journal spread out across her lap, scanning the words as swiftly as she could. It was never one of her strong points. Somehow she could always glaze over the same word, and every single time she would formulate a different interpretation as to what the writer was trying to get at. She was doing the same thing here, wondering if every small comment such as “anchovies are a surprisingly nice topping for ice cream” was actually a secret clue to find the Lamina.
Not only that but she was paranoid. She was sat in a house made out of wood, with no protection apart from the mortal, metal lock which lay on the door. Sat in her lap was the key to the most dangerous weapon in the universe, which every evil sorcerer for hundreds of miles was searching for. She could be spared for being just a little nervous. It wasn’t the most quiet of houses either. There was the humming of engines as cars cruised past, birds chirping from the roof and even, at one point, cows being coaxed across the road outside. It was what they got for having a house situated approximately mid-way between the city and the countryside.
It was only when the sun had gone down and lights flashed outside that Mercy so much as suspected that something might be up. She put the journal down beside her, laying it down softly like it was a new born baby, then straddled herself onto the windowsill, gazing out onto the driveway. Damn it. There was a car parked there, and it wasn’t the big, black shell of Bessy. It was a long, sleek and elegant, all of the things that Grim would never so much as go near, let alone drive.
She retracted from the window just late enough to see figures stepping out from it. No doubt they were expecting the property to be empty since there were no other cars parked outside, because of course, the people of this world are so lazy that the possibility of them walking rather than driving is too farfetched to even consider.
Instinctively, her hands fell to her side and stroked the blades that still hung at her belt, a wave of relief spreading over her just at the thought of still having them. It meant that she still had a chance. But her life wasn’t the main priority, the journal had to take precedence. Although, by saving the journal, she was also saving her own life.
She picked it up, holding it in her arms as she walked over to the entrance of the study, ignoring the sounds of crashing from the bottom floor. Then with a newfound brutality, she tossed the journal back into the study. She could no longer retrieve it because the protective barrier would stop her, but neither could the intruders.
There was a loud noise that echoed through the house to signal that they had made it through the door.
Not long now and they would find her.
“Spread out,” cried a female voice, even with the wooden structure, her voice carried with an innate authority. Even Mercy could hear it with her natural resistance to all forms of authority, it didn’t seem to sit right with her.
Once again she let her hands slither down her almost bare legs, wrapping around the hilt of her daggers and sliding them out of her belt strap. They felt cold in her hands, yet still managed to warm her, making her feel just a little safer as footsteps scouted the house. Eventually, they started on the stairs.
She closed her eyes, focusing. For a moment she was able to explore their minds. While it was unclear how many there were, their intentions were very clear. They were here for the journal, obviously, she didn’t need to be a clairvoyant to work that one out. However, there was more. The man she was looking into was scared. Fear stretched through him at the thought of meeting Grim, they were expecting to find him here. The man was terrified: he had been warned about the anger which he possessed, the uncontrollable rage which fuelled him in the war, driving them towards victory. He wasn’t looking forward to crossing him.
This man was the first to reach the top of the stairs, and the first to die.
It was over in seconds. She jumped into the air and spun sideways, her blades spinning out to the side like a cartwheel of death. His chest was ripped open and his insides poured out. His eyes rolled upwards into the back of his head in a state of shock, and a cry of fear or pain hadn’t even been given the chance to climb from his lips. Mercy wasn’t even sure that anyone was aware of his death, but they would find him soon enough.
Before that, there was something she would have to do to ensure her survival. She held the blade tighter, took a deep breath before pushing it lightly into the inside of her arm. Just a few beads of blood followed the metal along before she scooped it up with the tip of her index finger. She got to her knees and drew a small x on the floorboard beneath her. No doubt Grim would know what to make of it.
There was no movement coming her way, but at the same time there was no use prolonging things, so she stepped out down the stairs.
One of the men saw her. He lost his head. Then the others turned and a flurry of fireballs were sent her way. She dodged. At least it meant that they were indeed sorcerers rather than common mortal burglars.
The walls caught fire but were quickly extinguished. It must have been the protective barrier extending its reach to the house, adapting to safeguard its existence.
Mercy hopped around the corner and attacked, weaving between the figures as she blindly swung her blades to the sides. They were easy to cut down, and it took little effort to get four dead bodies lying at her feet. But then a woman stepped out from the shadows, she must have been leaning against the wall watching the events unfold. She didn’t seem the slightest bit deterred by the dissembled bodies in front of her, in fact her eyes didn’t even waste time glazing over them.
“Impressive,” she said, “I have to say, Miss Mercy, it is a great pleasure to meet you. In fact it is a meeting I have been long awaiting.”
Mercy took a step back, trying not to make it seem like she was acting out of fear. “Why?”
“You’re well renowned for your skills with a blade, are you not? It just so happens that I too possess these skills. I very much hoped to test myself against you.” Mercy eyed the woman up and down, from her dazzling red hair to the tight green vest. She seemed to remember a mention of someone of that description, holding that particular set of skills. Viper. That was her name.
Mercy held the blades tighter. Even the thought of that name was enough to send chills through her.
Viper seemed to notice the goose-bumps that had appeared across her arms.
“Nerves aren’t something you’re akin to, are they?” said Viper, “I can tell.... the way you shudder and try to shake it off. The confusion that layers your face. These are not natural feelings for you, which means you don’t know how to cope with them.”
Mercy took another step back, though she wasn’t even aware she was doing so. Viper was right. This was strange. She wasn’t used to the feeling of fear, and she wasn’t even sure where it was coming from.
This woman had done nothing to suggest that her abilities were superior, Mercy just knew they were.
“Not in the talkative mood, are you?” said Viper, moving off her perch and drawing two katanas from her s
ide, “let’s just be honest, you know why I am here and what I am willing to do to get it. So, you can give me the journal now, or face the consequences. Oh, and don’t bother lying to me, I know you have it.”
For the first time, a sliver of a smile spread over Mercy’s face. “Then you are misinformed. I threw the journal back into the protective barrier, you can’t reach it.”
Anger flashed in Viper’s eyes, and Mercy knew that she accepted the truth. It wouldn’t change anything.
Viper took a deep breath and shook her head as though she was struggling to contain something from within her, maybe it was fear of her master. What would he do now that she’d failed?
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, “then, my dear, I apologise in advance for what I am about to do to you. I’ll warn you now, this is going to hurt.” She pulled the blades close and licked them in turn with her forked tongue, sending green energy up the entire surface of the katanas, so that they were glowing like poison. “Oh, I am looking forward to this.”
Mercy got ready. “Well I’d be lying if I said I was too, but I suppose I don’t have the same psychopathic tendencies as you. Seriously, you can’t be an easy person to live with.” As soon as she finished her sentence, she leapt forwards, whirling her blades around as she spun through the air. Viper ducked and weaved around her strikes with
