War Within (Death's Contract Book 2)

by KJ Harlow

  “I…” I started, rubbing the back of my neck, “I… thank you.” I said pathetically. Agatha’s look of pride faded and she nodded at me. She looked back at the flames behind us.

  “Tor jumped right through those flames just to shield you. He believes in you too, you know,” Agatha said. I blushed in embarrassment and turned away. “The fire’s dying down now. We can rush straight through there and not sustain any burns.” I looked across at Walter, who had resumed his firing into Matylda’s body.

  “You’re OK staying here to keep her out of our hair?” I said, my eyes flicking down to the Tormented.

  “Yeah, as much as I’d like to come, I think Tracy’s happy being your right-hand woman,” he said cheekily, glancing over at Tracy who gave him a quizzical look. “You three could be like Charlie’s Angels, you know?” Now it was time for Agatha to arch her eyebrow at Walter.

  “‘Charlie’s Angels’?”

  “OK, forget I said that,” Walter said hurriedly. “Just go. Stop the Tormented. They won’t know what’s hit them.” We nodded and walked towards the fire. We Soul Stepped and rushed through the flames to the other side.

  “I hope so,” I said softly to myself.

  “My God,” I whispered. I ignored Agatha’s indignant splutter as I looked into the hospital to our right. A dozen ambulances were parked in the emergency zone as doctors examined patients, shook their heads and instructed the paramedics to close up the body bags.

  “Why did they have to target innocents?” Tracy whispered angrily as she turned away from the carnage.

  “They started this,” Agatha said softly. “Specifically Dante. It’s not a chicken and egg scenario. He created the Tormented. He’s building his army of Conflicted. He’s arming them with weapons. As deranged as he is, there must be a method to his madness.”

  We passed by the hospital and continued along the path. To our left was another one of London’s plentiful parks. The breeze wafted through the trees, carrying the scent of bloodshed along with it. As we walked by, Agatha stopped and sat down at one of the benches.

  “How’s the leg?” I said, sitting down next to Agatha.

  “It’s feeling a little stiff,” she said, wincing as she stretched out her leg. “I just need a few minutes.” Tracy stood behind us, putting her hands on our shoulders.

  “Take as long as you–” her sentence was abruptly cut short as she slumped forward.

  “Tracy?” I said, moving out of the way as she tumbled over our seat. “Tracy!” I sobbed. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not her too. Her generous smile was still on her face when she was shot in the back of her head.

  “Is she…” I couldn’t bear to say it.

  “Run!” Agatha bellowed. With no Tracy to shove me out of the way, Agatha and I ran in opposite directions as guns opened fire. Bullets thudded into the soft grass at my feet as I hid behind a sturdy tree. With my hand over my mouth to stifle the sobs, I watched Tracy’s body as it lay motionless.

  “Please…” I whispered. The same light that took Tor back to the Underworld came to also take Tracy home. I breathed a shuddering sigh of relief.

  “She was… killed,” I said with a quavering voice. “Someone shot her in the back of the head.”

  “Yes. The Conflicted are here. They’re watching us, trying to stop us from going any further.” Agatha said through her Light Bug. Agatha was 30 yards away from me. I could just see her figure in the shadows. A light was emanating from her hands. Was that her Lucent Gun?

  “Rose, did you see how many Conflicted there were in the park?” Agatha said.

  “No, I was too busy running for cover.”

  “I saw dozens, maybe 80 or 90. There are too many for us to take on.” 90 to two; safe to say we were outnumbered.

  “Should we call Walter?”

  “No, he’s got his hands full,” the light stopped shining in Agatha’s hands. “The two of us can take them out.” I quietly stared in her direction. What did she have planned?

  “I need you to run out and create a diversion, get the Conflicted to shoot at you. Draw them towards me. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “But your leg–”

  “I said, I’ll take care of the rest.” I exhaled. My heart slowed down. I poked my head out from behind the tree and looked deep into the park. I could see them: weapons glinting in the shadows, 50, 60, maybe more. Looking at the park, I plotted a path.

  “OK, on my count.” I dug the balls of my feet into the grass. “One… two… three!” I sped out from my hiding place into the middle of the park. I zigzagged amongst the trees, feeling bullets zip past me as Conflicted tried to hit me. I didn’t look back but I could feel them following me. I bounced all over the park, keeping an eye on where Agatha’s position was.

  “Alright, I think I’ve got them all,” I said. “I’m bringing them over.”

  “OK, run towards me then take a sharp right.”

  “OK. Ready?” I ran straight toward the tree Agatha was hiding behind then bolted right. “Now!”

  Agatha jumped out from behind the tree and the park erupted in flames. I could feel the heat on my back as flames hotter than the ones from the fuel tankers scorched the leaves off the trees in a 10-yard radius. I hid behind a tree as bursts of heat kissed my skin from the other side of the park. After 30 seconds, the park was dark and cool again. I crept out from behind the tree and ran back to Agatha.

  A cloud of ash as thick as fog had wrapped around her. Guns of all kinds lay dormant at her feet. A little flame danced and flicked in the breeze at the end of her Lucent Gun, which had become a flamethrower. She lifted it to her mouth and blew it out like a candle.

  “Told you we didn’t need Walter.”

  We crossed Lambeth Bridge with no further interruptions. Looking right, we could see Big Ben in the distance. We picked up our pace and jogged towards it. We passed by an impressive building that connected to Big Ben.

  “The Palace of Westminster,” Agatha said reverently. We slowed down to have a look at the building. “This is where the politicians who make all the important decisions that shape the United Kingdom meet,” I stopped in my tracks. Agatha looked back at me. “What’s wrong?”

  “If Mortimer and Dante were inside there,” I said slowly, “what do you think they would do?” Agatha stared at me, her eyes searching my face. They suddenly flew wide open as her hand went to cover her mouth.

  “Come on.” Big Ben stared down at us as we ran into the hallowed halls of the Palace of Westminster. I hoped the Tormented weren’t doing what Agatha thought they were doing but I was prepared for the worst. I wouldn’t let myself be taken off guard – not again.

  Thirteen

  Our shadows stretched along the ornately tiled floor as we slowly stepped through the entrance hall. Clutching my Lucent Gun close to my chest, I tried to make my footfalls as soft as possible; the way the Palace of Westminster was built, it wouldn’t let us come in without alerting the inhabitants of our arrival. I was almost tempted to take my shoes off just to muffle the echo.

  “They’re watching us,” Agatha said quietly. “As much as we think we had the element of surprise, we have to assume they know we’re here.” I relaxed slightly but still tried to minimize the echo of my steps in the hallway.

  “Where are we going?” I asked. Agatha was silent for a while.

  “We’re going to find the Tormented and see what their plans are.” I was too pre-occupied with trying to be quiet that I didn’t give a snarky response back to her. We turned the corner and entered another room. The tiled floor abruptly ended and lush, maroon carpet started. Not having to worry about the echo of our loud feet, Agatha and I started walking faster.

  Looking up at the walls, it was just like in the cartoons I used to watch as a kid. Portraits of past politicians leered down at us as we walked past them. I tried to tell myself that the eyes weren’t moving but on more than one occasion, I pointed my gun at a portrait I swore followed my path with its eyes before look
ing straight again. Agatha just kept walking, ignoring my jitteriness.

  “The Palace of Westminster is where the House of Commons and House of Lords meet,” Agatha said, as she shuffled slightly ahead of me. “The House of Commons is where new laws pass first. Once they pass, the House of Lords look over the new laws and accept or reject them.” My eyes flicked down from the creepy portraits and I stared at Agatha’s habit as it swished with each step. I kept silent as I waited for her to continue.

  “I think it was August 1964 that a fellow by the name of Peter Allen was executed. He was the last man to die from capital punishment. Then…” she trailed off. We walked in silence for a while before she picked up where she left off. “Then Mortimer came along.”

  “You said that after the government caught him, they repealed the Murder Act just to execute him?” I walked a bit quicker to catch up to her. I scanned the path ahead; the carpet stretched on for about 20 yards. Agatha seemed to know where we were going, but her expression was distant just like how it was when Tracy and I were with her in her room. Without Tracy here, I had to be extra vigilant for both of us.

  “The day of his execution was a dark day for England. Protestors and police clashed. Even when he wasn’t directly involved, he caused bloodshed. I managed to leave the convent during the height of the protests. He was being executed in a top secret location but I still wanted to try and find him. I needed to make sure that…” she trailed off again. We had just arrived at the end of the hall. Doors carved from oak stood between us and the next room.

  I stepped right up to the door, pressing my ear into it. As I strained to hear if Mortimer or Agatha were on the other side, scrumptious scents wafted through the gaps, making my stomach grumble in protest.

  “We’re at the Members’ Dining Room,” Agatha said, pressing her back into the other door. “Why on earth would they be cooking at this time of the night?”

  “They must be expecting guests,” I said under my breath. Ever so gently, I laid a hand on one of the polished door knobs. The only way we would know if we were the guests would be to invite ourselves in. I twisted the door knob and gently pushed. I poked my Lucent Gun through the gap in the door. No one was waiting in the corner to ambush me. I slipped through the door and pointed my Lucent Gun at the other corner. There was nothing there either.

  I side stepped towards the wall keeping my gun close to my chest and waved Agatha in. She glided up next to me. We stared at the long dining table that stood grandly in the middle of the room. Candles had been lit, cutlery had been laid out and the finest bone china had been immaculately arranged. Alarm bells were going haywire in my mind but the smell of food was getting harder and harder to ignore.

  We moved along the side of the room, keeping our eyes riveted on the dining table in case someone decided to spring out from underneath the tablecloth. After passing 15 sets of chairs, we made it to the end of the table. A stainless steel serving dish with a shiny domed lid sat there. Even from a distance, we could see our faces reflected in it, unsure of what to do.

  “Rule Number Four,” I whispered to myself while staring at the lid. I couldn’t forget the frightening ordeal I had in my first training session when Tor had imparted this lesson on me.

  “Us coming into London has been a trap from the beginning,” Agatha said tiredly. “Let’s just lift the lid and see what’s underneath. Be ready to attack and but be ready to run as well.” Agatha put her finger onto her Light Bug. “Walter, do you read me?”

  “Loud and clear,” he said, his rhythmic gunfire in the background.

  “We may retreat in the next few seconds. If we do, we’ll let you know. Just be ready to meet us if I give the word.” Walter was silent for a moment.

  “OK then.” Agatha slowly stepped towards the domed lid. She delicately put her fingers on the handle. I pointed my gun right at the plate. I knew it was silly but I wasn’t going to take any risks. Agatha looked at me and counted down silently. She nodded and flung the lid off.

  I applied an ounce of pressure on the trigger of Lucent Gun but no more. Eyes wide with surprise, I froze. In the fraction of a second before Agatha had lifted the lid, I imagined seeing Mortimer’s head smiling grotesquely at me, or a dismembered hand holding a gun before firing it in my face. What I didn’t expect to see was… nothing.

  I blinked. Under the domed lid was the serving tray, polished so rigorously that it looked like a portal to a parallel universe. If the situation weren’t so tense, I would have laughed at Agatha; a Catholic nun with a domed serving lid in one hand and a gun pointing at nothing in the other.

  “Agatha? Rose?” Walter’s voice came through tersely on the Light Bug. “What happened?” Agatha lowered the lid back onto the serving dish slowly.

  “Nothing,” Agatha said with a slight tremor in her voice. “Nothing’s here.” The only sound that punctuated the silence was Walter continually shooting Matylda.

  “We’re OK, Walter. There’s nothing–” I spun wildly to face the door that we had come through. It had slammed itself shut. In a heartbeat, I was there. I shoved my Lucent Gun back in its holster and grabbed the ornate knob with both hands, trying desperately to wrench it open.

  “Damn it! We’re locked in!” Right at that moment, the doors from either side of the dining room burst open. Chefs streamed in from either side with silver serving dishes complete with domed lids. They surrounded Agatha. She blinked in confusion as she looked at them, raising her weapon but not firing.

  I had to hand it to the Tormented; they were getting better at choosing the people to turn into Conflicted. The chefs’ hats and white uniforms were disarming but even from the 12 yards away I could recognize that brain dead look on their faces. I let go of the door knob and drew my Lucent Gun. They opened their serving trays in unison. Lo and behold, military handguns were underneath. Pain was going to be the main course tonight.

  Then they did something really unexpected: they threw the domed serving trays at Agatha. Caught by surprise she sprayed a round of shots. It caught one of the Conflicted in the stomach; not enough to Rid him. With one hand free, they picked up their handguns and pointed them at Agatha.

  “No!” I shouted. I got down on one knee and began firing but I was too late. The room was filled with gunfire. Five of the Conflicted-chefs fell and began disintegrating into ash. Agatha was on the ground, her Lucent Gun tumbling across the carpet before laying still.

  “Agatha!” I started to run towards her, but the remaining Conflicted fired a barrage of bullets at me. Being completely exposed, I dove into the only cover I could find: underneath the table and towards the Conflicted. It would only be a matter of seconds before they lifted the tablecloth and fired at me. Not if I blasted their brains in first.

  My breath was shallow and fast. I pointed my gun wildly at either side of the table, trying to anticipate where they were going to shoot at me from first. My heart beat frantically, flooding my body with cortisol. They were probably surrounding me right at this moment, reading to skewer me with bullets from all angles.

  30 seconds passed then a minute, then two. Something wasn’t right. The Conflicted weren’t smart. They were just puppets. Unless they were instructed to wait until I came out, they should have already shot me. What was keeping them so long? I willed my pulse to slow down. I crept towards the right edge of the table. I counted down then barrel rolled out, expecting to see a hoard of Conflicted pointing their hand guns at me.

  I blinked then blinked again. The Members’ Dining Room was empty. Chairs had been knocked over, Walls were pockmarked with bullet holes and most of the table setting was on the floor. The hand guns of the Conflicted I had Ridden were on the floor. I stood up and scanned the room.

  “Agatha?” I pressed the Light Bug into my ear. “Agatha? Do you read me?” No answer. I walked over to where I last saw her before I dove underneath the table. I looked down and my face fell when I recognized what was on the ground: her Light Bug. I bent down and picked it up, putting it in m
y pocket. There was only one explanation for this. Mortimer knew that we were in here and had ordered the Conflicted to bring her to him.

  I walked back towards the locked doors and tried them again. They didn’t budge. I pointed my Lucent Gun at the knob and fired. After a few rounds, there was a gaping hole where the knob used to be. I rammed it with my shoulder. I Soul Stepped out into the hall way, not giving a damn how much noise I made anymore. I knew he couldn’t hear me but still I cursed Mortimer out loud.

  “If you lay a finger on Agatha, I swear on Stan’s life that I will personally Cease you.”

  “Still no sign of her?” Walter asked worriedly.

  “For the last time no,” I hissed.

  “Are you sure you don’t need me to come in there?”

  “And what, just let Matylda reanimate then come after you?”

  “I can handle her,” he snorted. “She’s the one getting filled with bullets now.”

  “I’m going to have to potentially face both Mortimer and Dante in a moment. The last thing I need is a demented little girl firing at me as well.” He was silent as he considered this.

  “I’m going to go in there and somehow rescue Agatha. Then when I’ve got her, I’ll let you know. I’ll come back out and we’ll retreat.”

  “Got it, God speed,” Walter said before ending transmission. It was a labyrinth inside the Palace of Westminster but I had eventually found my way through to where I wanted to go. I looked at the grand, oak doors and laid a hand on them: the House of Commons. I brought my ear to within a fraction of an inch of the door. There was a muffled voice. If past experiences were to go by, Mortimer would have taken center stage. I strained to try and hear Agatha. Try as I might, there was just the single, muffled voice. I was certain it was Mortimer’s now.

  I pulled away from the door and looked around. If I stormed in now, it would have meant certain death. I had to go up to the gallery. I backtracked and walked down the hall. There weren’t any other doors that led into the room. Coming back to the oak doors, I exhaled and gently pressed down on the door knob; so far so good. I paused for a moment then breathed in; it was now or never. I pulled and the door soundlessly opened. Thank God the hinges were well oiled. I froze as Mortimer’s voice oozed into my senses.