Lies Ripped Open

by Steve McHugh

  “I like people to die knowing the truth. It brings me enormous satisfaction. People should know why they’re dying. People shouldn’t die with questions on their lips. Doesn’t seem fair.” He rubbed his chin with his free hand. “Well, some people anyway.”

  He moved forward as if he was made of water; his movements were smooth and fluid. He flicked the sabre up toward my neck, but I managed to deflect it with a combination of my knives and air magic. He quickly regrouped and a blade of ice formed on his free hand. He dropped the sabre to the floor.

  “It’s been a while since I fought a sorcerer. Wanna do this properly?” he asked with a smirk.

  I blasted him in the chest with air magic, sending him sprawling to the ground several feet away. “I’d rather just kill you,” I said and sprinted toward him. Enfield dropped to his knees and the water exploded up from beneath the dock, freezing in place, and creating a thick barrier between the two of us.

  I threw fire magic at the ice, but whatever I melted just grew back again almost instantly. I took a few steps back and set the edges of the dock ablaze, controlling the fire until there was an inferno to either side of me. I pushed more and more fire from my hands as it moved toward the ice, attacking it from two sides.

  The ice cracked and in a second exploded out toward me, becoming a hundred razor-sharp projectiles. A hastily created shield of air meant losing the fire, but it protected me enough to keep me alive. Some of the ice crept through, puncturing my arms and chest. I cried out in pain, and dropped to one knee as blood trickled down to my stomach and a still smiling Enfield appeared in place of his barrier of ice.

  He raised his hand and all of the ice left my body, flying back toward him before turning to water and dropping to the smoldering dock.

  “How are you feeling?” Enfield asked, removing a straight razor from his pocket and opening it to show me the blade. “I’m going to use this to cut your heart out. You hurt me with that little trick.”

  One of his hands was badly burned. I can’t say I felt much sympathy for him.

  He took a few more steps toward me and then stopped, concern on his face. “Why are you smiling?” he asked.

  Black, blood magic glyphs crossed slowly over the back of my hands and up my arms. “Surprise.” The blast of air that left my hands slammed into Enfield like a train, taking him off his feet and throwing him back several meters, until he collided with the remains of the sea serpent.

  I got to my feet and walked toward him, increasing the pressure of the magic with every step, until I heard bones break and Enfield howled in pain. I released the air magic, and threw two of the silver blade at him, each one taking home in his thighs. I started to run. By the time I’d reached Enfield, the blade of flame that was in my hand was so bright Enfield couldn’t look directly at it. I drove the blade into his chest, through his body and into the body of the serpent.

  I removed the blade and took a step back, as Enfield crashed to his knees, blood pouring from the wound in his chest. Alan, who was himself being almost carried by Fiona, was helping Felix back toward the warehouse. I didn’t see either Jack or Diana.

  I turned back to Enfield, who was still trying to relearn how to breathe.

  “You’re going to answer some questions I have,” I told him.

  “You faked being injured, didn’t you?”

  “Whatever I have to do. Now, these questions I have.”

  “You don’t really think I’m going to tell you shit, do you? You can kill me, but there are plenty of Reavers out there waiting to take my place.”

  “That’s why Felix is going to help us track you all down. All of you. We’re going to give everyone a choice. Leave the Reavers or die. You’re an antiquated idea that is as corrupt as anything I’ve ever seen. You’re done.”

  “We’re not done until someone a lot higher up than you says so.”

  “Who?”

  “None of your concern,” Enfield said dismissively. “Your win today is but a battle, you’re never going to win the war.” His tone suggested that I was an idiot for even considering a different outcome to what had happened.

  His words didn’t make me angry, they just made me more determined that I was going to win. There was no other outcome in my mind. “A war implies both sides are fighting. All the Reavers have done so far is bleed and die.”

  He waved the concern away. People like Enfield care little for anyone but themselves. “We’ll see.”

  “Where are the souls of the people you killed?”

  “Already sent back to Merlin.”

  “How many did you kill?”

  “I forget,” he said with a slight laugh. “Twenty, thirty? It was a good number. More importantly, it will keep Arthur alive for many years.”

  “What’s in the rune-marked and locked factory building back there?”

  “It’s where we kept the souls. It’s empty now, although you’re welcome to have a look. Jack is the one who marked it. I’m sure once you’ve found him, he’ll be only too happy to help.”

  “You’re willing to sell out your boss awfully fast.”

  “You know nothing about anyone I serve. And you should pray you never do.”

  “I’m going to find them, then we’ll see who’ll be praying.”

  Enfield laughed, and then began coughing.

  “You’re deranged,” I snapped. “If you make a move, I’ll kill you.” I watched as he got back to his feet.

  He drove the silver dagger up under my ribs with incredible speed, twisting it before stabbing me again. I lashed out in shock and anger, blasting Enfield with powerful enough air magic that threw him to one side of the ship, where he impacted with a loud crack.

  Blood poured from my side, and I looked up at Enfield, who smiled. Dozens of frozen spikes flew at me and I dove aside just in time to avoid them, causing myself even more pain. When I finally looked over at where Enfield had been, he was gone. I searched the river, hoping to see him swimming along the murky waters, but there was no sight of him.

  The burning pain from the silver subsided as I pulled the dagger out, but I was still bleeding badly from the wound. I removed my shirt and used it as a bandage to try and stop the bleeding.

  “Nathan,” Diana called out from the riverbank beside me, dragging the unconscious body of a man from the water, and dropping him onto the mud. “Found Jack. He tried to swim away.”

  I raised my hand to wave and then decided that pain made that a bad idea. Diana was beside me moments later, helping me to stay upright.

  “Where’s Enfield?” she asked.

  “He got away. We need to find him. What about Jack?”

  “He’ll live. Probably won’t feel good about it though.”

  “I want to talk to him.”

  “It can wait until you’re no longer bleeding all over the place. Let’s go get you patched up.”

  I gave serious thought about arguing, but sometimes it’s just easier to nod and let someone help make sure you don’t die.

  CHAPTER 26

  November 1888. London.

  I was lying in front of the factory while Fiona looked at the wounds I’d received from being stabbed with one of my own silver blades. I can’t say I was all that happy about it.

  “You’re a terrible patient,” Fiona told me.

  “Sorry. How’s Alan?” I was lying on my side on a makeshift bed, which mostly consisted of pieces of timber Diana had found. It was neither comfortable nor warm.

  “Resting, like I told him to. You on the other hand won’t sit still for five minutes. I’m trying to stitch up this wound.”

  My magic would have healed the wound eventually, but healing from a silver blade takes time; hours or days. Neither of which I was in the mood to give it. I needed to talk to Jack, I needed answers and, damn it, he was going to give them if I had to crawl over to him and bounce his head off the floor.

  “Your stitches will hold for now,” Fiona said, slapping me gently on the leg. “Don’t inflame the w
ound and you’ll be fine. From the few days I’ve spent with you, I imagine exasperating is what you do best.”

  “It’s a talent, that’s true,” I admitted and Fiona chuckled. “How’s Felix?”

  “You can see for yourself, he’s in the factory.”

  I got down from the makeshift bed and glanced at my dirt- and blood-covered body. It had been a long few days. I needed a bath. But it would have to wait. I found Alan lying on some more timber as Felix stood next to Diana reading through various pieces of paper.

  I cleared my throat.

  Felix and Diana both turned to me.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” Diana said, and dragged Alan away as she walked past, until only Felix and I remained.

  “You probably have a lot of questions,” he said.

  “I’m glad you’re alive,” I told him. “And yes, I do.”

  “Where would you like to start?”

  “The truth. The Harbingers,” I said with calm authority, although I certainly didn’t feel calm.

  “You were about thirteen when you first showed magical ability. Not an uncommon age, but your natural affinity toward using it was obvious. You learned quickly and soon outclassed anyone else your age. Not necessarily with power, you understand, but with a desire to be the best. You were willing to do more, to go further than the others, and you appeared to have an untapped potential that was worth exploring. Merlin was the one who decided you needed to go through the process of the Harbingers.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He just said it was necessary. I argued, of course, that no thirteen-year-old should ever be put through the strain, but he insisted, and eventually my choices were to be involved, or he’d find someone who would be. I couldn’t risk that, couldn’t risk someone who didn’t know what they were doing performing the trials. So I stepped forward.

  “Merlin told you that you were off to China for a decade. In reality, you were drugged and your body brought to an underground complex outside Camelot. There we trained you. During the day you’d live your life as if you really were in China. You felt loves and losses, you learned quicker than you ever could have in the real world. Within the first few weeks you’d mastered several languages, and were proficient in weaponry and hand-to-hand combat. The Harbingers are designed for the participants to learn a dozen times faster than in the real world.”

  “And at night, I didn’t rest, I learned to fight.” It wasn’t a question.

  “When your conscious mind was asleep, your subconscious took over, learning how to fight. Your body was put through its paces in real time. It has to be done that way, otherwise your mind will know how to do something, but your body won’t be able to. For several years this took place. We allowed you to rest once every month for two days, letting your body and mind heal. And on more than one occasion I thought you might die, but you were strong. Terrifyingly strong.”

  “How many others went through what I did?”

  “None. After it was done, Merlin decided to never put another person though the trials until they were of age. Mordred was meant to be after you, but it never happened.”

  That was a piece of news that truly surprised me. “Why not?”

  “Merlin sent him on an errand instead, allowing him to grow in real time, not the one we created. I have no idea how it worked. Mordred returned when you were in China.”

  “Was I really in China that time?”

  Felix nodded. “That was your first actual time in China. You probably wondered why you didn’t know places you were meant to have visited. Merlin hadn’t been to China for some time, so everything you were taught was based on old memories.”

  “Why keep this from me?”

  “Because apart from Merlin and me, no one knows it happened. It breaks the very laws that Merlin set in place; tampering with a mind without consent. And on top of that, it was the mind of a child? He would have been investigated at the very least; no one in Camelot would have stood for that.”

  “So everything from thirteen to twenty-four is a lie. I loved people, I was in love. People I cared about died.”

  “It had to be real. It had to let us know how you’d deal with grief, with love and happiness. With anger and betrayal. We couldn’t train you to become what you are and then discover that you were insane, someone who liked killing and did so without any thought for anything but their own gratification. I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that.”

  “Everything I knew was a lie.” Anger bubbled up inside of me and I punched the ground, causing me to yell out as my wound hurt once again. “Did he ever put me through that again?”

  Felix shook his head. “No. Once you’ve gone through the trials, you can’t go through them again. Your mind immediately rejects it.”

  “Could he have had someone fuck with my memories since then?”

  “You mean Merlin? The only way to do that now would be to use an immense level of blood magic. And it’s not like the Harbinger trials. The trials are like the master hands of an expert pottery maker; we mold and craft things just right. Doing it with blood magic would be like hitting clay with a hammer. There’s no telling just how many memories they’d alter or lose. If someone had done it, you’d either still be without memories, or you’d be a gibbering wreck.”

  That was at least some comfort. “Why did you keep this from me?”

  “I was ashamed. Ashamed of what we’d done, ashamed of how we’d lied to you. We could have killed you, or mentally scarred you for life. The fact that you survived, and did so unscathed, shows just how much power you actually have.”

  “Did you put these marks on my chest?”

  “The blood magic curse marks? No. I’ve never even seen them. Merlin told me about them, but blood magic isn’t used during the trials. It’s too unwieldy.”

  Neither of us said anything for some time, we just sat there in silence, while I tried to get my head around the idea that ten years of my life were not only a lie, but a lie perpetuated by people I’d trusted.

  “You’re going to run,” I told Felix eventually. “You’re going to run and hide. I don’t blame you entirely for what happened, but I also don’t ever want to see you again. You can live out your life in some remote spot somewhere and do whatever you like. We kept a lot of stuff from your house before it burned down.”

  “You burned my house down?”

  I shot a glance at Felix full of barely contained anger.

  “So, a new start, eh? Well, I suppose that’s not too bad. When do I leave?”

  “After I’ve spoken to Jack. In the meantime, I’d probably not want to be near me for a few hours.”

  I walked out of the warehouse, my anger bubbling softly inside me. “Where’s Jack?” I asked Alan.

  “Offices, up there,” he said and pointed to the separate building. “Felix still alive?”

  His smile dropped when I looked at him.

  “Stay here,” I told him, and I made my way up the stairs to the offices.

  Diana stood outside the third door down. “I thought you’d want to talk to him. Let it be noted, I haven’t threatened or touched him in any way.”

  I opened the door and found Jack, who was sitting on a chair beside a window that was too small for him to climb out of, although the fact that the window was smashed meant he’d probably tried at some point.

  “Stand,” I told him.

  He sighed, but did as I asked, before straightening out his tie and smoothing down the suit jacket he wore. “Shall I dance now?”

  I walked over to him and punched him in the stomach hard enough that he immediately dropped to his knees and began sucking in breath.

  “You done?” he wheezed.

  I wrapped air around my fist and hit him in the jaw, sending him to the carpeted floor. He spat blood and then sat back up, so I hit him again. This time, he stayed down longer.

  “What do you want?” he asked as he pushed himself up to his knees. The second punch had split his li
p pretty badly.

  I hit him a third time, breaking his nose and sending blood across the carpet and up the wall beside him. He put his hand on the wall and I grabbed the scruff of his jacket and forced him to stand up.

  “You have to tell me what you want,” he demanded.

  I punched him again and again, each time letting him drop to the ground before I dragged him back to a standing position.

  Eventually he could only ask one question through his ruined mouth. “Why?”

  I slammed him against the wall, and held him steady. “Why? Did you tell those people you murdered why you were killing them? Did they beg you to stop?”

  I punched him in the stomach and let him fall to his knees.

  “Don’t you want answers?” he asked.

  “Not really.” I punched him again, knocking him back to the ground, where I started kicking him over and over in the ribs.

  “You done?” Diana asked from the doorway, her voice completely calm.

  I took a step back and looked down at the whimpering man. “Yeah, I’m done.”

  “Good, because I didn’t want to have to stop you,” she told me matter-of-factly. “I figured you’d want to actually ask him questions, not just kick his teeth down his throat.”

  “Jack the Ripper and his merry little band of murderers.”

  Jack shook his head. “Not my band.”

  “Are you saying you weren’t killing those people?”

  “I killed many over the years.” He spat blood onto the floor. “I’m saying they weren’t mine. I wasn’t in charge.”

  “Enfield was, wasn’t he?” I asked.

  “He didn’t want the others to know. He made them nervous. He made me agree to be the figurehead, but he was the one who made the decisions.”

  “Can you remove the runes from the door downstairs?”

  Jack gave the barest of nods.

  “Move. Now.”

  Diana and I followed Jack downstairs to the rune-marked door. Fiona and Alan joined us and we all stood back while Jack removed the runes, making it safe to open.

  “It’s done,” he said after a short time.

  “Diana, can you please keep Jack here company while we go take a look inside?” I asked.