by Jeff Gunzel
Owen laughed to himself, shaking his head. “Even now, I still have no idea what they want with Viola. But the way I see it, if such a vile species wants her that badly, then nothing good could ever come from them getting their way. I’ll do anything it takes to keep her out of their hands. Call it a survival instinct. Hell, call it stupidity! But when I saw how desperate they were to get their hands on her, I knew right then that I couldn’t allow it.”
“So why take her at all?” Liam questioned. “She was safe in captivity, watched day and night by Redwater’s finest.”
Owen leaned forward, a dangerous glint twinkling in his eyes—the look of a man whose confidence bordered on madness. “Safe? If your gut told you that protecting this girl might be more important than anything you’ve ever done in your life, would you leave the task in the hands of dimwitted soldiers whose only loyalty was to their next paycheck?” Liam leaned back with a sigh, understanding that feeling all too well. “If I’m wrong about the importance of keeping her out of their hands, then I’ll live with it. But as a rule, I always trust my gut and I never leave anything to chance.”
Owen paused a long while, watching Liam’s unblinking eyes as he judged, evaluated, assessed the mercenary’s motives. “Now I’ve told you the truth,” Owen said, hand on Xavier’s shoulder, hinting for him to slide out from the booth. “We’ll leave you and Viola alone to discuss what you want to do. I won’t try and stop you either way.” Sliding out, he leaned down into Liam’s ear. “Should you decide to push forward without us, please keep a close eye on the girl. Seek others who may help in this cause as well. An entire species of killers is searching for her. I don’t imagine she’ll ever be safe.”
A pale hand reached across the table and gripped his wrist. “Please stay,” Viola said, her gentle voice as soft as ever. Both Owen and Xavier slid back into their seats, eyeing her uncertainly. “This is not how we make decisions. We make them together. As a group, I mean.” She cleared her throat, obviously uncomfortable with being the center of attention. “I know that none of you can understand, but you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family. I know you don’t see me that way, and that’s all right. I understand.” She managed a weak smile.
Heat rose in her face as she spilled her heart out. But she needed to speak her mind. If they laughed at her, fine. If they rejected her devotion to the only people she had ever dared to call friends, then so be it. But her opinion would be heard, if only this once.
“Besides,” she continued. “Even if you don’t see me as family, I’m still part of this group. And nobody asked me what I want.” There came uncomfortable shifting around the table. “If I am the one who’s in danger, then shouldn’t I have a say in my own future?”
“Of course you should,” Liam added quietly.
“I know the laberaths are bloodthirsty killers, and for some reason they are hunting me,” she said. Her red-eyed gaze drifted to Owen. “Their blood courses through my veins. I know what I am.” He sat upright, surprised by her sudden admission. Either Liam had told her, or she figured it out on her own. Either way...she knew!
“But I also know what I am not,” she said, glancing at Liam, smiling. “I have...urges... But I’ll never be like them. Human blood flows through me as well, and when I’m with the three of you, that’s how I feel. Human.” She let out a deep breath. “I don’t want the group to split up. We won’t always agree on everything, and that’s all right. To me...that’s a family.”
Grateful she had the chance to speak her mind, Viola drew in on herself, shoulders slumped. The words hadn’t come easily for her.
“It seems as though our young friend here has shown wisdom beyond her years,” Liam said.
“Perhaps a couple of old fools like us could learn a thing or two,” Owen replied. Viola lit up, feet suddenly tapping the floor excitedly. Owen held out a calloused hand, rugged and strong from years of battle. “We make a pact,” he said. “This evil that stirs underground is bigger than both of us. I don’t know what they want with Viola, but I don’t intent to find out. Agreed, brother?”
Liam grasped the offered hand. “I believe we have a deal,” he said. “The girl has good instincts. If she is willing to place her faith in you, then so am I.”
With her attention drawn to Liam and Owen, Viola was surprised when her hand was lifted off the table. “It seems that you and I shall not be separated,” said Xavier, her icy cold hand wrapped in both of his. “It will be an honor to serve and protect you.” Her first instinct was to pull away. Her skin was forever cold, and the touch of any warm human made her self-conscious. Displaying no insecurities of his own, Xavier kissed the back of her hand. It went on for an uncomfortably long duration; he was clearly in no hurry to end the kiss.
“I’m grateful,” she replied, the soft words coming out as a whisper. Why did her face feel so hot? And why wouldn’t her knees stop shaking?
“Ahem,” Owen grunted, clearing his throat. Viola quickly pulled her hand back, swallowing nervously. “Perhaps the young lady would like to order us some drinks?” he asked, flashing a half-toothless grin. He slid two silver pieces across the table. Sure enough, the bartender had showed up along with a few other patrons. The place was far from busy, but at least it was showing some life now.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Liam warned. “Perhaps I should go.” His hands moved towards the silver.
“Oh, she’s fine,” Owen said, smacking the offending hand away. “Her face is covered. They can’t see what she looks like. I’m sure she would like to talk to someone other than us. Let her go to the bar and get served like a normal person.”
“It’s all right, Liam,” she said, taking the coins and squeezing past him. “I want to try.”
“That a girl!” Owen bellowed, winding back his hand as if to smack her backside when she passed. Liam quickly raised a warning finger. Oblivious to Owen’s action, she wandered her way up to the bar. “What?” he said innocently. “I-I wasn’t really going to— Oh, stop looking at me that way.”
A stout man stood behind the bar. Rag in hand, his arm worked back and forth across the bartop, seemingly cleaning the same path over and over again. Greasy black hair clung to his forehead, deep-set eyes gazing across the room at nothing. Hood pulled low, Viola clinked the coins down on the bar. “Excuse me,” she said softly, already feeling the anxiety building up. “I would like four—” Something felt wrong. His mouth hung open, drool running from his chin as his hand worked back and forth. His eyes were completely blank, face like a dead puppet, an imitation of life.
His eyes slipped back into his head, leaving nothing but empty black sockets staring back at her. The skin around those shadowed spheres turned gray, seeming to harden like dry mud. Cracks crept across his face, expanding outward like spider webs. His graying lips curled back like drying leaves, exposing a mouth full of bloodstained teeth. They clicked together with a sharp crack, a hard snap that should have certainly broken at least a few. His jaw opened back again, impossibly wide like a snake unhinging its jaw. It snapped closed with a shattering boom, teeth exploding into black spiders that sprayed across Viola’s face.
Viola screamed, a shrill note echoing from all directions at once. In a flash, Liam was at her side. “What? What is it? Are you all right?” he asked in a rush of words.
“I want to go. We need to leave. We need to leave. We have to go,” she babbled, clutching the old man so tight he feared she might break a rib.
“I believe you’re all right,” he said, attempting to comfort the girl. He glanced at the emotionless barkeep as he wiped the same spot over and over, evincing a curious lack of reaction, considering a girl just screamed in terror right in front of him.
“What in the blazes is going on over there?” Owen asked, watching Viola tremble against Liam’s chest.
“I think it’s time we left this establishment,” Liam warned, suddenly quite aware of the other suspicious patrons in the room. He’d been so caught
up in their earlier conversation, he hadn’t really noticed anything unusual until now. The barkeep’s simple expression never seemed to change, his stiff, awkward movements seeming to have no purpose. Liam was a master at reading people, but there was nothing in the man’s eyes to read. The barkeep was hollow, empty—an animated shell of a man with no soul to speak of.
Liam glanced to a group of three men standing in the corner. Seeming no different than Xavier’s puppet, they turned as one, artificial grins appearing at the same time. Their looks were chilling, as if invisible fingers pushed up their cheekbones, stretching their lips so they formed into wickedly exaggerated grins. Normal face muscles should not have been able to form those synthetic expressions.
“We have to go now!” Liam repeated, far more urgently this time. Also seeing the twisted perversions of nature masquerading as people, the hunter and Xavier leapt from their seats. The four of them ran for the exit. Eerie grinning faces followed, swaying with each clumsy, drunken step. Blasting through the swinging doors, they turned but stopped short of their destination. Their mounts and wagon alike were surrounded.
“We will have to find another way out of here,” Liam said, pulling a dagger from inside his shirt. “Here,” he said, giving it to Viola. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but whatever happens I won’t have you defenseless.” She reluctantly accepted the dagger, tentatively holding it away from her body as if he’d just handed her a snake. “This way,” he said, grabbing Viola by the sleeve.
The moment he spoke, one of the aimless wanderers noticed them. It moaned, hobbling towards them clumsily like a child learning to walk. Others followed, arms outstretched, growling like animals.
The mystic and his companions dashed down the street as more of those things poured out from alleyways. Others came busting through doorways, their blackish dry tongues hanging out, eyes rolled back in their heads. “Keep going!” Owen shouted just before he stopped and turned around. Xavier promptly joined him, blades in hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Liam shouted, stopping briefly to see what the madman was planning.
“Reasoning with them,” the hunter called back, crossbows clacking down his arms, automatically latching to his wrists. “I know what I’m doing. Just get her out of here!” He sneered, eyeing the moaning swarm approaching from multiple angles at once. “We’ve been in tighter spots than this,” he grumbled under his breath.
Seeing no choice in the matter, Liam drew his sword and led Viola away.
Owen’s crossbows hissed and steamed as new orange crystals loaded into empty chambers. “Stop right where you are and I won’t have to hurt any of you,” Owen shouted, crossbows raised. Not even slowing, the groaning wave drew ever closer. Blades readied, Xavier flashed him an incredulous look. “What?” the hunter asked sheepishly. “I didn’t actually think they’d listen. But now that they’ve been properly warned, I feel better about killing them.”
The wave nearly on them, Owen roared as a torrent of flashing orange light sprayed from his wrists. The front runners were instantly shredded, limbs and clothing tumbling upward. A fine mist of blood hazed the air as he swept his arms back and forth, pieces of torn bodies hitting the ground with a wet smack.
Xavier hurled both his blades into the wild fray. Spinning in a wide arc, their level trajectory took multiple heads before gliding back into his waiting hands. Even as those bodies fell, others seemed eager to take their places. Ignoring the countless fallen, they just kept coming. Stumbling over on the slippery dead, they didn’t seem the least bit shaken by the ensuing massacre.
After a final sweep, Owen’s crossbows began to click, tiny rotors slowing to a halt. Steaming orange crystals ejected, hopping across the dirt. “What is wrong with these things?” the hunter shouted, rolling his shoulders to send the crossbows ticking back up his arms. Effectively useless now, they would have to cool down before reloading. “They have no survival instincts whatsoever. They see their own falling by the dozens, yet eagerly advance to be the next to die! If we don’t fall back now, they’ll surround us.”
Snatching his spinning blades from the air a second time, Xavier thrust them into the ground. Owen’s words rang true. They would be surrounded shortly, so a change of tactic was imminent. With a sudden flourish, his cloak floated back, fluttering to the ground. Silver rings tapped against handles strapped all over his chest. With a subtle twitch of his fingers, the blades seemed to levitate into the air, each defying gravity for what seemed like several seconds. Then, with a high-pitched whistling, they began to zip around with astonishing speed.
Three of the mindless creatures wandered too close. The whirling blades buzzed right through them, faces splitting open as if ten thousand paper cuts all formed at once. Blank, drooling expressions exploded in a fine mist of red.
“Go if you wish, master,” said Xavier, now eyeing the ones coming from behind. With a mere thought, one of the silky lines tripled in length. A single blade fired out, shaving the top of one’s skull clean off. It crumpled to the ground, others marching right over it, unfazed by the fear of death. “I’ll hold them as long as I can. The mission has changed now, and I intend to see it through...no matter the cost. Viola’s safety is our top priority.”
Drawing the blades from his back, Owen cursed under his breath. He wasn’t about to let his young apprentice show him up. These things were aggressive, true, but showed nearly nothing in the way of fighting skill. Surely we can take down a few hundred. Right?
*
Liam and Viola were able to keep a fair distance between themselves and their pursuers. Although aggressive and tireless, the primitive creatures were mostly clumsy and slow. Suddenly, Liam stopped in his tracks. A second wave came from the other direction, each stumbling over each other in an awkward charge.
“Go up,” he said, pointing to a nearby rooftop. “I’ll hold them off from down here.”
“Liam, they’re coming!” Viola shrieked. “I won’t! I’m not leaving you here.”
“You must get to higher ground,” he ordered. “I’ll join you as soon as I can. I’ll be fine. Now go!” Reluctantly releasing his hand, she backed off a step before starting to spin. The flapping black funnel whirled upward, settling on the roof above.
Coming out of her spin, her form shifted back just in time to focus on the mystic down below. “Behind you!” she screamed.
The former soldier whirled back, his steel flashing across the face of a woman. The top portion of her head burst, gore and brain matter scattering across the dirt. Her body remained upright a second or two, then tipped over stiffly as if blown by the wind. With half her face and one eye remaining, her accusing gaze seemed to glare up at Liam.
Trying not to think of what he’d just done, he backed his way up near the wall. She was not a woman anymore. It couldn’t be helped. At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. A small hand reached down from the rooftop, waving just above his head.
“Liam,” Viola called, stretching down as far as she could. “Take my hand. I’ll pull you up.” The mystic spun off the wall and turned to face her. Surely she couldn’t handle all his weight, but if he pressed his feet against the wall, he might be able to climb up with her assistance. She could see the mindless humans converging from all sides, men, women, and even children rushing towards him. “Hurry!” she urged, shaking her hand at him.
He reached up to take her hand, sliding his sword back in its sheath. Suddenly, his eyes went wide, face going white. There was no time to speak, and just barely enough to act. His sword hand streaked in and out of his chest pocket, then flicked towards her face. Her eyes hardly registered the tumbling dagger zipping straight at her. It whizzed past her ear, and thumped into something just behind her. She rolled to the side, a delayed reflex at what felt like a failed attempt on her life. Dagger quivering in its chest, the mindless creature hovered over her.
With a shriek, she rolled twice more to create some distance. It didn’t pursue, lazy eyes just w
atching curiously. She scrambled back to her feet, pulling out the dagger Liam had given her. “Get back!” she ordered, jabbing weakly as she backed away. Eyes crossed, it lumbered forward, hands stretched out in a lazy attempt to grab her. One on one, the slow creatures were hardly dangerous at all, but she was untrained and had no idea how to use even a simple dagger.
She caught a quick glance over the side of the roof. Liam was fully engaged, his steel flashing this way and that. They were dying as fast as they approached, but there were just so many of them. How long could the old man hold?
Ignoring the dagger in its chest that obviously caused it no pain, the creature on the roof started displaying a bit more urgency. Its clumsy walk became a trotting charge, arms flailing wildly as it groaned. “I said get back!” she screeched, continuing to jab her blade in sweeping stabs.
By luck alone, she caught it right in the chest. Her blade easily slipped in and out, like stabbing several layers of dry paper. It was as if his insides were hollow, and his fragile skin offered almost no resistance. Piercing him a second time, the sickly crunch of dry skin made her let go of the blade. Poking out harmlessly, her dagger remained in his chest, jiggling near the first. Neither seemed to bother it at all.
Wild fear gripped her as the impaled creature lunged. She screamed, throwing her hands up in a desperate attempt to defend herself. Eyes closed, she felt it slam against her arms, heard its teeth clicking with numerous attempts to bite her flesh. She should have died, should have been eaten alive and ripped apart right then. But the expected pain of teeth ripping into her never came. Still feeling the pressure of its body, she opened one eye, wondering why she still drew breath.
Like a nightmare come to life, Viola wasn’t sure which startled her more: the sight of a mindless creature trying to tear her apart, or the sight of her own arms blocking its path—arms which she no longer recognized. Flesh turned solid, her pale arms had extended several inches, each now resembling the blades of long swords. Held at bay, the creature snapped and growled, unable to push through the solid blades of flesh.
