No point thinking about it now. She made her decision and I’ve made mine…
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t realize where I was until I looked up and saw her sitting on the bench, lit only by a pale orange street light. There was a park near the edge of the dome. Ella and I came here often when we first started to feel those feelings that’d bind us. It was our special place… We’d not been there in a very long time.
“You forgot your coat,” Ella said without turning to look at me. The long coat of the Queen’s Guard lay draped over the bench beside her.
I walked over and sat down beside her. The coat felt warm against my back, but the metal bench pulled all the warmth right out of me.
“It’ll warm up, the longer you sit,” Ella stared at the edge of the dome, no more than a few hundred feet away. She’d been there for a while. The snowfall had almost turned her coal black hair the purest white.
“Yeah, it generally does,” I slipped my arms into the warm wool coat and then hugged them around the child.
“It’s so beautiful out here,” Ella whispered. “The way the snow falls makes everything looks so smooth and… perfect.”
“Peaceful… innocent.”
Ella cocked her head and looked over her shoulder toward the direction I’d come, “All it takes is one little person to disturb that peace… that innocence.”
I followed her gaze and noticed how my tracks had broken through the snow and left an unmistakable blemish on the landscape, “It’ll heal.”
“In time,” she turned and resumed staring at the edge.
“You look cold.”
“I am,” Ella smiled, but there was no heart in it.
“Me too,” I joined her in staring at the edge, “Thanks for the coat.”
“Yeah,” she turned her gaze to the ground before us. Undisturbed snow of the purest white, tinted only slightly by the pale moonlight, “I didn’t want you to be cold.”
I’d said more than I ever imagined I’d be able to say and the rest of my words froze on the tip of my tongue. There was a warmth behind my eyes that made my head throb and an ache in my chest I’d never felt before.
“You know I have to stop you right?”
“I know,” the tear froze on my cheek.
We rose together but Ella waited as I undid the cloth that secured the child to me, wrapped it tight, and placed him on the bench. He woke long enough to smile at me and then fell fast asleep again nestled in the climate adaptive fabric. I knew Ella well, the child was safe as long as I lived and she’d come alone. Had she not it would have already been over.
“Shall we?” Ella placed a timid hand on the hilt of her sword.
“Yes.” My hand surpassed her timidness and shook wildly until I managed to grasp the hilt of my sword.
“Have you named it yet?”
“Yes…”
“Is it a good name? A strong name?”
“Yes…”
“Good.”
And then we disturbed the peaceful… innocent snow. Our feet cut deep trenches through it as we moved swiftly and came to face each other. Our swords sliced snowflakes in two as they left our sheaths and red sparks rained down around us when they clashed together.
Our chests heaved and our eyes burned. Our arms trembled but we held each other still.
The red sparks mingled with the snowflakes as we traded blows. We’d never moved more gracefully in our lives and our swords sang our song of sorrow.
Our hearts weren’t in it, but that didn’t change anything. I moved in for a weak thrust at her shoulder.
She stepped aside as I knew she would and as she turned her sword caught me across the ass and effortlessly cut through the liquid tactical armor. Cold air prickled my flesh and warm blood ran down my leg. I pirouetted with more balance than I ever knew I had and faced her, sword drawn to defense.
“Focus Linsey,” Ella choked the words out unable to look me in the eyes.
Her words would have infuriated me had I not heard the pain within them. We were going through the motions, the same motions we’d gone through every day for as long as I could remember, but we weren’t in the training room, and our swords were made of star stone instead of wood. For the first time ever her words didn’t goad me into a foolish attack, I stopped to think. Can we really be here? Is this really happening? You know what to do. You know how to beat her. I can’t. I won’t. I decided to press the attack the way I always did.
She took a single subtle step to the side and parried my wild lunge. I saw the tears freeze on her cheeks as I stumbled by.
Unlike before my feet were light as a feather and instead of landing on my face I rolled into the fall and came back to my feet and faced her. My heart barely beat and my body refused to move. Our eyes met for the first time since the infirmary. There was no smile on her face. No taunting or teasing smirk followed her humbling parry. Her lips were pressed together and her jaw quaked. Her mesmerizing blue eyes reflected a lonely and desolate landscape. “Let’s be done with this.” I said.
“In a hurry?” She rasped and her sword fell against the soft leather of her snow covered boot.
I suddenly felt the world falling down around me. Everything seemed to vanish under a haze of shadow and the only thing I saw in color was her. Alessandra Celeste, was dying inside and all I wanted to do was throw my arms around her and hold her until the darkness faded away. Sadly, fate had forced our arms in other directions.
She saw the look on my face and the doubt in my mind must have registered, because she pulled her eyes from mine and lunged forward driving her sword at my stomach.
I barely managed to deflect the blow and before I knew it she had me on the defensive. I back stepped and side stepped to match her quickening pace. She’d played a cruel trick, the cruelest of tricks and engaged my emotions to exploit my obvious weakness. Her.
Her sword fell past my head. A light breeze stirred my hair.
So many thoughts can pass through your mind within a split second. Uncontrollable response, I panicked, real unquestioning panic filled me from top to bottom. Long gone was the fear of being struck in the temple by a wooden training sword, replaced by the very real realization that Ella had nearly ended my life then and there. Though her slash was weak and lacked conviction, a star stone sword would do the work for her. I jumped back and dropped my own sword to my side as I sucked in a quivering breath. Then reflex kicked in, where your body thinks it knows best. I forgot myself entirely and pressed the attack intent on breaking her combo. Then logic and speech show themselves. I’d repeated the same mistake I always made.
Ella caught my sword with her own blade. Red sparks sizzled against the wet snow as they erupted between us. She’d seized control of my sword and we locked eyes once more. We knew what came next, our training made sure of it. She’d disarm me and if I didn’t make the right move, she’d kill me. I could see it in her eyes, a sight that’d haunt me to the end of my days, no matter how sooner or later they were. She was praying I’d make the right moves.
It would only be a matter of seconds before I lost. Dozens of scenarios ran through my mind at warp speed. Ella never used the same tactic twice. My eyes were trained to assess her battle stance and read her body language for a sign that’d betray her intentions, but for all my training I’d never been able to read her. Until that moment, the moment I didn’t want to be able to. Her left foot was back and carried most of her weight and her sword arm w
as loose. She was going to do the exact same thing she’d done in training yesterday. I could kill her with my next move, but I wouldn’t. I won’t kill her unless she gives me no choice… and even then… I loosened my wrist so I could follow through with a roundabout. Ella spun my blade around with superb grace but I could see in her eyes that she’d given her body over to its training. She wasn’t piloting her own limbs anymore, instinct and training were.
With my wrist loose and my grip firm I st
epped into her arc and she closed her eyes, aware of what I’d done. “We don’t have to do this!”
Ella sobbed. She wrapped her leg around mine, slid her blade down to my hilt, and then quickly snapped her wrist up. As the force jarred my sword from my hand she pulled her leg back and hooked my own.
Why Ella? Why are you making me do this! My body took over and leaned into her enough to put some distance between her leg and mine. I slipped my leg free and matched her lack of conviction as I spun to the side. The move checked her balance and she had no choice but to spin in the opposite direction. For the second time in less than twenty four hours we stood back to back.
My sword once again landed on my foot, as I knew it would. The thing about combat is that you get used to seeing scenarios play out. Whether it is the parry thrust, parry thrust of fencing, or the fall of a balanced sword after disarmament. Some things just flow in tandem whether you want them to or not.
“Here we are again,” Ella lamented, the tears in her eyes were obvious. I could feel the shake in her voice through the connection of our backs and at first I couldn’t feel her heartbeat, until I realized it was beating in perfect sync with my own.
“Ella…”
“Linsey… we’ll both do… what we have to do.”
“Ella…”
“Don’t make me wait so long this time… okay?”
“Ella, please...”
“Perhaps tonight… will be the night… I sleep in your arms.”
“Don’t make me do this…”
Ella’s back tensed against mine and I could feel her muscles moving.
My toes curled and I flicked my foot at the ankle. The sword flipped into the air. It spun twice and the hilt landed perfectly in my hand. I could feel Ella spinning already so I spun as well. I love you. I went low and brought my sword across her midsection in a close controlled slash.
Ella had gone high, just like she did yesterday, just as I knew she would, and a tear ran down my cheek.
My sword cut through her tunic, her armor, and left a deep gash across her stomach. I sat there on one knee, sword extended at the end of my slash, unable to move, frozen in horror.
Ella fell to her knees beside me. Her sword landed blade first and stuck in the ground next to us. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and her coal black hair fell in her face as she toppled over.
I dropped my sword and slid in to catch her. Blood seeped into the snow around us and tinted it pink, but I didn’t care. I sat in her blood and held her in my arms.
“I… told you… you’d best me… one… day.”
“No I won’t… never. It should have been me.”
“Linsey,” she reached up with her bloody hand and wiped my tears away. “I could… never… kill you.”
“Hold on, I’ll get you help.”
“No,” Ella grasped the sleeve of my coat and held me on the ground. Her eyes searched mine, the deep blue already fading. “In the infirmary… I wanted you to stop… me. You’re so… much stronger… than me.”
“Not like this,” I shook my head. My stomach churned at the feel of her warm sticky blood on my hands.
“I prayed… I’d never meet you…, but I’m glad… I… did.”
Have you ever felt the life leave the person you love? It’s not tangible but it’s noticeable if you pay attention. The body vibrates, it’s a sign of life, and no one notices it, because we’re used to it, but the vibration stops first. Then the air escapes and rejoins the air around you, and then… then there is a stillness. A life ends, and if you love them… you really, truly, love them there are two deaths. Them and a part of yourself, that’ll never be whole again. Fate clenched my stomach and the black pit grew until it encompassed my heart.
A child cried.
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PLEASE CHECK OUT SEASON ONE OF THE WAR OF THE TAROT
EXCEPRT FROM - Fool's Journey (The War of the Tarot, Book One, Episode One): A Supernatural Urban Fantasy
Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
As I rolled over out of my slumber a set of emerald green eyes glared at me with disdain. My cat, Binks, sat on the edge of my bed more or less concealed by shadows. I'd hung the thickest and deepest black curtains I could find, but the harsh halogen streetlight flooded my room regardless. Binks’ racoonesque tail slid over my cozy flannel sheets with a hiss and an occasional thump. At first I thought he'd woken me to demand more food, water, or a clean litter box...or obtain the arms codes needed for utter world domination. Hard to tell. But then I heard it again.
Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
The clock on my bedside table displayed the time in large green numerals dimmed by my fading power storage. It read three thirty-three in the morning. I sighed. No one comes knocking during the hour of the wolf to have tea and crumpets. Binks rose and stalked toward my face. A thick silver mane framed his arrogant mug and I wondered if his extreme sense of self-worth could be measured, but I figured any such device capable of doing so would implode on contact. He nudged my head with his own then turned his ass to my face
Typical.
“Will you receive your vigorous guest, or must I end their pitiful existence so they will cease that endless racket?” Binks purred as he dropped off the bed without so much as a soft thud.
Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
Great. I sat up as I shook my head. No better way to start my day than being talked down to by a cat with a superiority complex.
The cool summer air wrapped around me as my precious fur blanket fell off. A shiver danced over my bare skin and left goosebumps in its wake. I clenched my jaw tight so my teeth wouldn't chatter, and stepped out of bed into a pair of fuzzy slippers. The power stores had depleted more than I thought during the night, and powering up the micro-hydro made my stomach churn. It provided a steady and reliable source of energy, but the water from the reservoir stank to the high heavens.
Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
My shoulders slumped and my head fell back of its own accord. “I'm coming already! Hold your horses!” I slipped my hoodie on and pulled the corseted laces tight so it hugged my body.
Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
I wrapped my hand around the doorknob and stood on my tiptoes to look through the peephole.
Markus Wilkes stood on my doorstep...during the hour of the wolf (that time of night between three a.m. and dawn when freaky shit happens)...holding a manila folder, and his chestnut eyes wore a grim look. Why me?
“Kassie it's me. Open up.” Even while laced with seriousness his voice sounded melodic and further reinforced my notion that he resembled an aging hip hop singer.
I stepped back and pulled the door open. A biting summer wind followed him in. I scrunched up like a cat in a rainstorm and slammed the door behind him.
“Hey, watch it!” he said.
“You're welcome here.” I fixed him with my best annoyed glare so he'd know how little I enjoyed being woken up early, and then I cocked a thumb toward the door. “The cold isn't. And don't call me ‘Kassie.’”
“You're in a mood.” My godfather stood firm and crossed his arms. “So am I.”
The salt and vinegar drained out of me. I'd seen that face before and it triggered warning sirens. His ashy hair seemed grayer than usual and the circles under his eyes were deep enough that his dark skin failed to hide them. I took note of how rumpled his clothes were and how the badge clinging to his belt sat tilted. He had worn the same outfit for at least two days, and for a homicide detective unkempt clothes spelled “bad”—“bad” with a capital “B.” I frowned. “Let me go put some pants on.”
* * * * *
We sat in my kitchen on opposite side
s of the bar. The manila folder lay between us, and two steaming cups of tea cooled on the bar. A subtle stench floated in the air as my micro-hydro hummed in the background. Stench or not I was glad I had it. I preferred solar and wind, but the sun didn't always shine, and the wind didn't always blow.
Markus took his cup in a shaky hand and sipped. Anyone else would assume fear gripped him, but I knew better; exhaustion dominated him. He worked hard, and he worked harder when something dug under his skin. I imagined the something waited for me in the folder. He sat the cup down and pushed the folder toward me.
I stared at it hard. How bad could it be? “Do I need to prepare myself?”
“Yes.” His voice reeked of defeat and desperation. I'd never heard Markus sound hopeless. Not even during the numerous times he had to deal with my foolish antics. Sometimes I felt sorry for him. When my father died Markus received me and my imminent problems, but he never complained.
“Okay.” I sat up straight, tilted my head, and arched my back so my spine would line up. Use good posture when doing breathing exercises or else your lungs can't work to their fullest potential. I took a couple of deep, controlled breaths with my eyes closed and focused on the light at my center, behind my navel. Who knows if it’s real or not? I know the practice works for me, and that's good enough. I opened my eyes, took the folder in hand, and flipped it open.
Death. Death looked me in the eye. There were several pages of police reports to accompany the death, but the crime scene photos drew my attention. There were three victims total—women—displayed in a collection of around thirty to forty photos.
The thin delicate photos felt clumsy in my gloved hands. The leather rubbed against my bare skin photo after photo and I knew immediately what Markus wanted from me. I swallowed hard and my lips seemed to dry out in an instant. With a heavy heart I forced myself to go through the photos one at a time and soak up the details. I hoped to spot something that would help, but I wasn't a detective. I survived as a studio drummer, but a unique ability blessed me, or cursed me, depending on your point of view.
Side Stories - The Linsey Ashguard Books: A Dystopian Sci-Fi Fantasy (War of the Tarot Extended Universe Book 1) Page 5
