Phantom's Grasp: The One Armed Assassin Series

by Hans Bezdek

  “Take me to Anselm!” Calina demanded, waving her staff in every direction. “I know he’s in here! You can’t fool me!”

  None of the men were jumping to give up that information, if they even knew who Anselm was in the first place.

  “We need to think of a way to use this,” Anselm whispered to Grayson. “If we play this right, we could get to her and-”

  “We’re up here!” shouted Grayson, waving his arms around to get her attention.

  Calina looked up at the hole, giving the oddly dressed elf a confused look. The look shifted to a smile as she saw Anselm next to him, shaking his head.

  “Oh, there you are!” beamed the Alchemist’s apprentice.

  Anselm gave her a small wave. “Uh… Hello, again. What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to talk to you!” she shouted up. “I don’t think this is the proper environment to carry on a conversation, though. Would you mind coming down here so we can leave?”

  Anselm was worried she had found out he wasn’t actually a guard but assumed she wouldn’t be so happy to see him if that were the case. If he and Grayson ended up having to fight her after they got out of Demarcus’ warehouse, he decided that was a more winnable situation than waiting around here for a few dozen bruisers to bash his head in. Even if she did have that staff.

  “Let’s go,” said Anselm, pulling on the sleeve of Grayson’s shirt.

  “Watch it!” said Grayson, swatting Anselm’s fingers away. “You’ll ruin the outfit!”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s impossible,” replied the assassin, pulling the chunk of desk and chairs away from the door.

  The two of them tentatively made their way down the stairs. Calina had moved to the base of it to meet them, causing the mob of Demarcus’ men to create a clearing for them.

  “Good to see you again,” smiled Calina. “How’s the arm?”

  “It’s helped me a couple times,” said Anselm, nodding up to the hole in the wall. “Helped me make that.”

  “Wonderful!” exclaimed Calina, beaming up at it. “It’s working even better than I expected it to!”

  “Watch out!” said Grayson, pointing at an orc that took the opportunity to jump at the distracted woman.

  “Oops,” said the Alchemist’s apprentice, lazily turning and activating the staff. A thicker arch of lightning shot out of it, making a cracking noise as it hit the orc. The creature was tossed into the air and he flew back nearly twenty feet. “That was a close one. Thanks… whoever you are.”

  The elf sucked in his gut as he bowed to her. “You may call me Grayson.”

  “Can we put a hold on the introductions until we get out of here?” asked Anselm, eyeing the furious men that surrounded them.

  “That’s probably for the best,” agreed Calina. She held the buzzing staff out and walked for the exit. “No one gets close to us or you get zapped!”

  “Ugh!” mumbled Grayson as the two of them followed close behind her. “You killed the mood!”

  “Better than your plan of talking and killing us,” said Anselm.

  Chapter 9

  Calina kept her staff up as they left the compound. Demarcus’ men were giving them space, but they weren’t letting them leave their sight.

  “Why are they still following us?” Calina asked as they continued to slowly back up into the street. “I thought they’d stop once we left the walls.”

  “It might not be so easy to get them to leave us alone,” Anselm explained. “They’re under the impression we killed their boss.”

  “Did you?!” gasped Calina, almost turning to him but remembering she couldn’t take her eyes off of the mob.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s kind of complicated, but it wasn’t us.”

  “Neither was that,” said Grayson, pointing at the front. The four guards that had nodded them through earlier laid prone and broken. Several throwing knives stuck out of each of them.

  Demarcus’ men noticed the bodies as well, growing angrier at the three of them and picking up their pace.

  “We may need to switch our strategy to running,” advised Anselm.

  “If their boss is dead, why bother chasing after us?” asked Calina. “Is it out of a sense of loyalty?”

  “Not quite,” said Anselm. “It’s widely known Demarcus had a special payment plan in place for if he was ever killed.”

  “Ah, so they’re still being paid,” nodded Calina.

  “Nope,” said Grayson. “But the person that’s responsible for killing the ones that killed Demarcus will get one hundred thousand gold pieces.”

  “A… A hundred thousand?!” she repeated, her eyes going wide. “They might never stop following us…”

  “Exactly,” said Anselm, looking around them for a way to get out of this. An assortment of vendors’ carts were in front of some alleys, most of them closing up for the night. Some other people were milling about, more than a handful watching the tense fight.

  “Once word gets out that Demarcus is dead, the rest of these people will join in,” cautioned Grayson. “We need to run.”

  “We’ll need a distraction, first,” said Anselm. “Something to slow the others down.”

  “Like what?” asked Calina.

  A food stand was set up in front of an alley near them. Anselm placed a hand on Calina’s shoulder and guided her toward it.

  “When we get to the other side,” he explained, “blow up the stand.”

  “But the poor owner!” protested Calina. “He’ll lose his livelihood!”

  “Better that than us lose our lives!” protested Anselm.

  “You can come back another day, when it’s safe,” offered Grayson. “You could pay him for the damages, plus some for his trouble. Seems more than fair to me.”

  Calina hesitated then nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it since we have no other choice. I’m paying him back, though.”

  Anselm was going to tell the elf that he did a good job getting Calina to agree with them, but Grayson’s smug smile made him rethink that. No need to boost his already massive ego.

  They reached the other side of the food stand, now only able to see the tops of their pursuers’ heads.

  “Do it!” shouted Anselm.

  “I’m sorry!” said Calina, thrusting the staff out. Lightning poured out of her staff, connecting with the food stand and igniting it. Whatever kind of oils the owner had been cooking with quickly caught, feeding the flames and growing them even higher.

  “Time to run!” said Grayson, not bothering to wait for the other two.

  The three of them hurried through the alleys, taking as much of a confusing path as possible. Anselm tried to keep track of how many times they turned left and right, but Grayson never wanted to slow down for him to think. The assassin couldn’t really blame him.

  After what felt like half an hour, the three of them found themselves on the eastern part of the Storage Borough. They walked into the abandoned alley and stopped, each of them leaning against one of the walls.

  “This should be far enough,” said Anselm, glad to get a chance to catch his breath. “Well, at least for now.”

  “Only for now?” asked Calina, fighting for air as she adjusted her glasses.

  The assassin nodded. “Not only do they know our faces, but they know my name. Some of them will eventually find us. Might take weeks or months, but the desire to get that money is too strong for them to pass up.”

  “What exactly happened back there?” asked Calina, glancing at the two of them suspiciously. “Why were you even in that warehouse to begin with?”

  Grayson spoke up first. “Anselm was returning to collect his-”

  Anselm stomped on the elf’s foot, causing Grayson to shout and jump back.

  “What was that for?!” demanded Grayson, sitting down and holding his foot.

  “My mistake,” said Anselm dryly. He turned to the Alchemist’s apprentice. “Demarcus was someone that I had been a guard for, before. I went to see i
f he had any more jobs available for me.”

  “Good for you!” said Calina proudly. “I knew it was just a matter of time before you’d feel comfortable enough to get yourself back into your career. I didn’t expect it to be the day of, exactly, but I’m happy for you!”

  Anselm relaxed. She still believed he was a guard. Whatever the reason she was there for, he could be sure it wasn’t to kill him. At least, not for any reason he could think of.

  “I’m proud, too,” said Grayson, sounding very patronizing and insincere.

  “While we were there, a man burst into the room and attacked Demarcus,” continued Anselm, ignoring the elf. “He went by the name Chaos and mentioned something about the man last night who killed your master. Apparently, the assassin’s name was Phantom, and the two of them are working together in some kind of group.”

  “A group of assassins!” said Calina, gripping her staff a little closer. “I thought those murderous beasts worked alone!”

  “A little harsh,” mumbled Grayson.

  “They killed my master last night,” said Calina flatly.

  “Oh, right,” nodded Grayson, giving Anselm a panicked look. “I, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that. Assassins are the worst.”

  “They normally don’t work together, which makes this very strange,” said Anselm. “I was hoping to stop Chaos before he left so that he could lead me to Phantom. We fought, the arm you gave me activated, and I punched him through that wall.”

  “Speaking of which, Calina,” said Grayson, flicking the side of Anselm’s arm. “Why does this thing only work occasionally? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled he can use it at all. It’s just… it’d be better if it always worked.”

  “I agree,” nodded Calina. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure if he’ll ever get full use of it. The magic is very, very complicated. It easily could’ve killed him when I fused the arm to his body.”

  “Uh, what now?” asked Anselm.

  “You lived, though!” she smiled, quickly waving his concern away. It didn’t work, but he let her continue talking. “The arm is charged with magic runes, which is what allows Anselm to feel anything at all in the arm. My master wrote the runes down in his notes, but I haven’t been able to find where he mentions how to fully use them. They will sometimes charge with power that is innate in everyone, giving him the ability to have more control of his arm, but it’s hard to predict when that will occur.”

  “It’s better than nothing,” said Anselm, glancing down at his arm. If it had been his real arm, he’d have gotten cut by Chaos on one of the assassin’s attacks. Although, if he had his real arm, he wouldn’t have been in this mess to begin with. “It certainly helped us back there, not to mention you coming and carving a path out for us. How did you find us, by the way?”

  “You put some sort of tracker in his arm?” asked Grayson.

  Calina blushed and fiddled with her glasses again. “Erm, kind of…”

  “That’s not creepy,” said Grayson.

  “That arm is extremely valuable,” said Calina, trying to explain herself. “It would be irresponsible to not occasionally keep tabs on it.”

  “You came a far way just to keep tabs on me,” pointed out Anselm.

  “Actually, I came to give you this,” said Calina, pulling a note out and handing it to the assassin.

  “What’s this?” asked Anselm, opening up the folded paper.

  “Did you write him a poem?” asked Grayson.

  “No!” said Calina, shooting the elf a dirty look. “They found this next to my master’s body and assumed it was his. It’s not his handwriting, though. I think it might’ve been the assassin’s.”

  Anselm recalled Phantom marking off a piece of paper and missing the pocket he tried to put it into. This must have been it!

  The note was a list of over a dozen names, all but one of them marked off. It wasn’t incredibly rare to have a literal hit list, but assassins tended to be particularly careful with it. Anselm, surprisingly, recognized practically all of the names. They ranged in importance from least to most in descending order, with the last two marked off before the Alchemist being Baron Thomas and Arch Deacon Roberts.

  “Someone’s been busy,” mumbled Anselm, impressed and a little concerned. “I know the Baron and Arch Deacon were killed in the past couple of weeks.”

  “Oh, yeah! I read about those,” said Grayson. “I assumed they weren’t connected, though. Whoever paid for those two to be killed must’ve paid an arm and a leg. Er… Sorry, Anselm.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” muttered the assassin. “You’re right, anyway. I thought they weren’t related.”

  “Apparently, you were both wrong,” said Calina. She pointed down at the paper. “And look at the last name! It’s the only one not crossed off.”

  “Grand Duke Jaspar,” said Anselm, reading the name aloud. He couldn’t believe it...

  “Oh, I’m fine with that one,” said Grayson, stretching out. “That guy’s the worst. He’s only in that position because he lucked into it. Rumor is he doesn’t even do anything with his responsibilities. All he cares about is hosting stupid parties.”

  Grand Duke Jaspar certainly had responsibilities. He was part of the Council, which made seeing his name on the list mind-boggling. Killing a Grand Duke was almost as bad as killing the King, and would be punished just as severely. No assassin would escape the Council hunting them down if they so much as made a move against a Grand Duke.

  “We need to find him,” said Anselm, putting the note into his pocket.

  “Huh? Why?” asked Grayson. “Durzheim will probably be a better place with that guy out of the picture.”

  “I don’t care,” said Anselm. “Phantom has him on this list, which means he’s going after him. Judging by how fast he killed the others in relation to one another, he could strike at any moment.”

  “Can’t you just let this go?” complained Grayson.

  “He took my arm, Grayson!” growled Anselm.

  Grayson sighed. “Okay, fine… But how could we even warn the Grand Duke? It’s not like they let just anyone talk to him.”

  “Actually,” said Calina, smiling. “I think I can help with that. The Grand Duke is holding a party tomorrow night, and I can get the three of us in.”

  “Woah, really?” asked Grayson, self consciously patting the frills on his shirt down.

  “Really,” she nodded.

  “Are you sure you want to go?” asked Anselm. “The man who killed the Alchemist could be there. It could get very dangerous.”

  “You say that like we weren’t just chased by a mob of angry men,” she said.

  “That’s fair,” yielded the assassin.

  “Phantom killed my master,” she continued. “I’m not going to let some crummy assassin get away with that!”

  Anselm felt Grayson’s eyes on him but he refused to look back. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep the facade up, but hopefully they’d kill Phantom before she found out. Maybe she wouldn’t be too mad about the truth once the Alchemist’s killer was dead.

  Assuming he didn’t kill them all first.

  Chapter 10

  “Did we really need to meet so early?” complained Jester, the man’s head resting on the table.

  “It will be noon in half an hour,” said Warden, confused. It would be one thing if Jester was assigned a job, but he wasn’t. Aside from taking out a few of the early Phase One targets, Jester and most of the others weren’t to risk getting themselves caught or noticed until Phase Two began. “Is it really that early for you? “

  “You clearly don’t know how to have a good time,” giggled Jester. “All of the fun stuff happens after midnight. I rarely get to sleep before the sun rises.”

  “You’ve known we were meeting this early for weeks,” commented Wild. “You should have made an exception last night and gone to sleep at a reasonable time.”

  “A reasonable time,” repeated Jester in a mocking tone as he shook his he
ad.

  Warden could sense Wild’s glare through her mask at the buffoon. He shared the sentiment.

  “Shall we get started?” asked Sage, fiddling with his beard and turning away from Jester. “We’re all accounted for, save Chaos.”

  “So long as everyone is fine with that,” said Warden, looking around the table. Sage and Wild nodded. Jester gave a thumbs up. Lotus wasn’t paying attention and was staring up at a spot on the ceiling.

  “I’d prefer we make sure Demarcus is dead before we move forward,” said Phantom, ending any hope of a quick meeting.

  “I don’t see why we care about getting rid of him,” sighed Sage, slouching in his chair now that they were going to have to continue waiting.

  “He’s not someone of importance to the Council,” agreed Wild. “Whether Demarcus lives or not doesn’t affect us moving forward.”

  “He’s been added to this list, remember?” said Phantom, leaning forward. “We can’t finish with Phase One until every name on that list is taken out. If you felt like arguing about this, you should have done so when you had the chance. Isn’t that right, boss?”

  Everyone turned their attention to Warden. The man under the mask stared blankly at Phantom. Warden had done all he could to make everyone feel like they were equals, yet they all subconsciously regarded him as their leader. That was what he wanted, but Phantom calling him ‘boss’ was bringing it to the forefront. Warden hated that, and Phantom knew it. Why Phantom continued to test him, he didn’t know. Perhaps the man thought it was amusing.

  Warden certainly didn’t.

  “I am no one’s boss,” said Warden carefully. “We are all involved in the decision-making process. I am merely the one who keeps these meetings on track. That being said, we have agreed that once a name is on our list, there is no questioning it. That means Phantom is right and Demarcus must be killed.”

  Phantom reclined in his chair, justified.

  “It’s not fair Chaos gets to sleep in while the rest of have to be here,” whined Jester. “Isn’t that right, Lotus?”

  “I’m sorry?” said the elf, breaking her concentration on the roof.