by KJ Harlow
“Lower your weapons, I am not in danger,” he said. Matylda and all the Conflicted slowly dropped their guns by their side. The barrel of my Lucent Gun stayed buried in his neck. “Thank you.” He looked back down at me.
“Good evening,” Dante said pleasantly. “What brings you to Trafalgar Square?” My hands started getting clammy as I kept my gun where it was; I would not let him get into my head. Everyone wanted to fire their weapon but no one was willing to make the first move. Dante’s eyebrow pitched up as he looked at me quizzically. Shuffling awkwardly when I didn’t give him an answer, he decided to change tack.
“How is Agatha?”
“Where is Mortimer?” I demanded. This was not part of the plan. Why didn’t I just shoot him already? Dante’s smile faded.
“I’m not sure.” I couldn’t tell whether he was messing with me or genuinely didn’t know. “As you can see, we’re busy giving our little army the best weapons the British Army has to offer.” He took half a step backward but I stepped towards him, driving my Lucent Gun even deeper into his neck. He cleared his throat. “We have to be at our very best to match up to Death’s Deliverers, after all.”
As we stood there locked in a stalemate, I realized the big flaw in my plans: I would be unable to communicate with Silas and Walter. They were watching from their vantage points, ready to attack at a moment’s notice. I was way in over my head. Would Silas be able to react in time when I shot Dante? Would I Cease or would I die first? Should I have called Agatha for back up?
“It was nice of you to wish him a happy birthday the other night, by the way. He didn’t even tell me it was his birthday… not that it really matters when you’re one of us,” he chortled. He cocked his head away from me, giving my gun more access to his neck as he looked at me curiously. “‘Mortimer Weston’… that was something else I didn’t know. Be honest: did you just make up that name on the spot?”
I could feel the ‘no’ surging up my throat; I wanted to spit it in his over-confident face. I wanted him to know that I had the upper hand. Luckily my brain had retained a shred of common sense. I had to keep buying time until I was ready to pull the trigger.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked quietly. Dante looked at me blankly.
“Doing what?” I almost took my gun away from his neck to wave sweep a circle around the Conflicted pointing their guns at me.
“Raiding the British Army’s arsenal, arming the Conflicted with guns, attacking innocent people – all of this,” I said. I looked straight into his eyes. “Why are you doing this?” His irises weren’t just dark. They were like black holes that sucked all the light and hope out of anything that came near them. I was determined to resist the pull. If possible, his eyes seemed to darken more. I was so focused on staying sane that I almost missed something flicker across his face: sorrow.
“I’d like to know as much as you do,” he said pensively. My eyes widened. He had to be messing with me now, surely. Why would someone betray the Angel of Death and seek transcendental power for no reason? He knew why he was doing all this. He just didn’t want to tell me. He seemed to space out momentarily.
“Rose,” Silas whispered. I gave no outward indication that I heard him, in case Dante or Matylda cottoned on. “I’ll count down then we’ll shoot at the same time. I kept my gun planted on Dante’s throat. My finger started curling on the trigger.
“3… 2… 1…”
“Why do you do this?” Dante said, suddenly coming out of his reverie.
“What?” I said loudly. I tensed, waiting for Silas to blow Matylda’s brains in. The shot never came.
“Why do you want to Rid the Conflicted? Why do you want to know where Mortimer is?” He inhaled and sighed deeply. “Why do you want to shoot me?” I stared at him incredulously. What was he getting at? I cursed myself silently for letting the opportunity to get out of this situation slip away.
“You probably don’t remember, but…” he paused and chuckled, “we knew each other, a long time ago.”
“Shut up!” I screamed. I jabbed my Lucent Gun so hard into his neck that it drew blood.
“You bitch!” Matylda screeched. She took a step toward me and placed her Lucent Gun on the side of my head.
“Matylda…” Dante warned, raising a hand. “It’s OK.” She clenched her jaw and took half a step back. The moon broke through the clouds, casting a spotlight on the dramatic scene playing out in the middle of Trafalgar Square.
“Look, I won’t keep you; I’m sure you have somewhere to be. We won’t be going anywhere at this rate. You can leave or you can shoot me, I don’t mind either way. If you choose the latter though, I can’t guarantee you’ll make it out of here alive, in body or spirit.” Was he giving me an out? I pushed the gun into his neck again and he dipped his head in acknowledgment.
“Shooting it is then.” He closed his eyes and lifted his head slightly. My heart was beating in overdrive. My eyes flicked up to the top of the National Gallery; I hoped Silas had been listening. Dante opened his eyes and peered down at me.
“Do you want me to give you a hand again or–” my face was sprayed with his blood as a hole appeared at the top of his head. I shot three more rounds into his chest before his body hit the floor, crouching at the same time just as Matylda fired at me. She squealed in surprise as she too fell.
I braced for the tsunami of lead to enter my body, but it didn’t come. The Conflicted had been momentarily stunned, devoid of direction from the two Tormented who were now being filled with bullets. Walter charged into Trafalgar Square, his blood-red Lucent machine gun blazing a trail of destruction through the Conflicted.
Even though he was lying on the ground, dark crimson blood pooling around his head, I didn’t dare take my eyes off him. I had to keep shooting him and stop him from reanimating. I didn’t want to let him Cease me. Then something happened which made my blood curdle: in between the rounds that I was firing into him, his eyes starting moving. He had been looking straight up into the cloudy expanse of the London sky but bit by bit they moved fractionally down, stopping each time a bullet pierced his body until the pupils were directed straight at me.
Silas said that he would be stunned for a half a second. It felt like it was far less than that. I tried to fire faster, but it wouldn’t change the fact that he was now staring at me.
“Move!” Walter roared, charging at me. I stumbled as he knocked me out of the way. My Lucent Gun fell out of my hand and slid three feet across the Square. Walter stood over Dante and opened fire, mercilessly filling his body with bullets. Walter was a fearsome fighter, especially with his Lucent Gun in machine gun form but the ferocity that he was crushing Dante’s body with bullets was frightening. His face was a mask of rage and loathing as he gritted his teeth, making sure Dante stood no chance of attacking him. Black ash clung low and heavy all around us. Weapons littered the ground. I couldn’t believe it; Walter really had gotten rid of them all.
“Rose!” Silas shouted. I picked up my Lucent Gun and looked at him. He ran towards me, firing a round into Matylda, his Lucent Gun back in hand gun form. “Are you OK?” I looked back at Dante, as his dead, fathomless eyes now stared at Walter.
“Yeah,” I said, absent-mindedly putting a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m fine.”
“We’ve contained the situation here. We’ll keep the Tormented at bay. Go and find Sid.” He turned and fired into Matylda again. He looked back to me, nodding. Before I knew it, my eyes were drawn back towards Dante.
“Rose?” I shook my head vigorously.
“S-sorry,” I said, focusing on Silas’ metal-rimmed glasses. “I’ll go.” Without a backward glance, I Soul Stepped away from Trafalgar Square back south.
“Sorry miss, we’re not sure where he went. We patched him up and he went off on his own.” The nurse said. She had rosy cheeks and spoke with an Irish accent. I was back in Central Hall Westminster, where I had last seen Sid. “He’s a saint, that man. Has dedicated more than half his lif
e to helping the homeless. Even helped me when I was in a spot of bother in my younger days.” I cast a dejected glance around the Hall. It had been full of patients a couple days back. Now, the only people here were patients and volunteers tidying it up.
“You can try his health care center, you know.” I looked up at the nurse again. “It’s south of the River Thames, down Vauxhall Bridge Road. Go past the Secret Intelligence Service and it’s right next to the train station.” I thanked the nurse and left the Hall.
“Agatha, did you get that?” I said, pressing the Light Bug into my ear.
Yes, I know exactly where it is,” she replied. Moments later, I was standing outside Vauxhall Station. As trains clattered by, I spied a dilapidated looking clinic next to it. The lights weren’t switched on. I walked up to the entrance and peered in, my breath fogging up the glass. Did this place double up as his home?
“Sid,” I yelled, hammering on the glass, “it’s Rose from the other day. I helped you get from Westminster Station to the Central Hall.” I wiped away the fog on the glass and peered in again. It didn’t look like anyone was home. I leaned back on the glass and slid down until I was sitting on the concrete.
“What do I do, Agatha?” There was silence on the other side.
“Hospitals,” Agatha said firmly. “If there is anywhere that Sid would be, he would be at a hospital. He could be picking up supplies.” I puffed up my cheeks and exhaled. If I hadn’t gone off to Rid all those Conflicted instead of backing up Tracy at the General Register Office, we could have gotten our hands on the information we needed to cease Mortimer by now.
“Come on, up you get,” Agatha said. She tried to sound bright but it ended up sounding more like a command. Begrudgingly I got to my feet. She was silent for a while. “There are 17 hospitals in the London area. If you just go to each one and ask if Sid’s come by, you might just be in luck.” Agatha was right; now was no time to feel sorry for myself. I walked back onto the main road.
“OK, let’s move from south to north then. Where’s the first one?”
“St George’s Hospital. It’s six miles to the south west. Follow the main road all the way down and you’ll see it.”
St George’s Hospital hadn’t seen Sid. Neither had The Lambeth Hospital, Maudsley Hospital or King’s College Hospital. I moved further north. St. Thomas’s Hospital, Guy’s Hospital and London Bridge Hospital also hadn’t seen him.
As I flitted around London, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was being followed; it had to be Mortimer.
“Agatha, have you seen Mortimer in your surveillance?”
“No, nothing from my end.”
“I feel like I’m being followed. As I’m visiting these hospitals, it feels like someone’s just staying out of sight. The only people who can move as fast as us are the Tormented.” Agatha pored through her surveillance screens again.
“I haven’t picked anything up, but I’ll be sure to look in the surrounding area when you go into and leave a hospital.”
“Is he trying to get to Sid before me? What if he turns him into a Conflicted?”
“Well then you had better bloody not let that happen then,” Agatha said sharply, her transmission suddenly ending. I smiled; even though we had warmed up to each other, I could still count on her to keep me in line. I looked out over The River Thames. The clouds had parted, letting more moonlight strike the water. To think that a few days earlier London hadn’t known of the terror of the Tormented. Now, thousands of people were dead.
My mind went back to the events of half an hour ago. I was lucky that I survived that without a scratch; thank God Silas and Walter were switched on. My index finger twitched as Dante’s face swam up to the surface of my mind, his fathomless, shrewd eyes boring deep into my soul.
You probably don’t remember, but…
I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to hear the rest of the sentence.
…we knew each other, a long time ago.
“Argh!” I shouted in frustration. Before I knew it, I had drawn my Lucent Gun, pointed it straight into the air and fired half a dozen rounds. I listened to the echo of the gunshots fade away as I slowly dropped my arm.
He was lying; he pulled that statement out of nowhere. He had to be. And yet… he spoke so plainly. He wasn’t like Mortimer, who wanted blood for the sake of it. Dante was economical with his words. He wouldn’t say something unless there was a purpose for it. He didn’t feel like a liar either. He seemed to genuinely not know why he was rallying Conflicted, nor why he was looking for Tormented… or was that not what he was referring to?
“Rose!” I blinked several times. “Get on with it!” She berated. I frowned, digging the Light Bug out of my ear and swapping it to the other one. I saw something moving behind some bushes nearby.
“Mortimer!” I shouted. “I know you’re there; show yourself!” I drew my gun and pointed it at the bushes. He didn’t come out. If he wanted to play cat and mouse, fine. I Soul Stepped away, heading back north of The Thames. He would need to catch me first.
Over the next half an hour, I visited the remaining dozen or so hospitals on the north shore. I grew more and more despondent as the nurses shook their heads. Most of them knew who Sid was, but none of them said that they had seen him.
“You might want to check out Charing Cross Hospital,” a waifish, pale nurse said as I turned around to leave another Sid-less hospital. “The story is that a long time ago, Sid rescued a homeless boy who was on the brink of death. Fast forward 40 years and that boy is now the youngest chief of surgery in British history. If there’s anyone Sid would go to for anything, it’s him.”
I thanked the nurse and turned to head out the door. I glanced at the clock in the tea room: 2:48. No wonder I felt dead on my feet.
“Come on Rose, this is the last one,” Agatha said. I grunted noncommittally. Minutes later, I dragged my feet into Charing Cross Hospital. There weren’t any nurses at the front counter. A doctor had his back turned to me. He was leaning heavily on the front desk as if he was exhausted.
“Excuse me.” the doctor didn’t turn around. I cleared my throat. “I was wondering if Sid’s come in today to pick up some supplies?” Still, no response. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. The doctor swung wildly at me, slashing across me with a scalpel. It nicked my jugular. I frantically looked up at the doctor while I clamped my left hand on my neck. His eyes were calm but dead.
“What the…” I said through gritted teeth. The doctor advanced toward me, my blood dripping off his scalpel. “Damn it!” I pulled my Lucent Gun out and Ridded the Conflicted. As my gunshot rang out through the lobby, I heard several more in the levels above.
“Mortimer,” I said under my breath. “No, no, no!” I ran towards the lift, crashing into the door leading to the stairs. As my pulse quickened, more blood oozed out of my neck. I paused to catch my breath and to listen to where the gunshots came from. I looked up sharply; it felt like it was four levels above. I took the steps two at a time. The gunshots were getting louder and louder. I stood in the stairwell, steadying myself; I couldn’t walk straight anymore. With each pump of my heart, I felt weaker and weaker. I flung open the door and stumbled down the hall. The gunshots were becoming more and more frequent. People screamed and suddenly became quiet. Which room was Sid in? I looked up at the signs. My vision was too blurry for me to read it.
“Get back!” I heard someone shout followed by multiple gunshots. With my remaining energy, I Soul Stepped to where I thought the gunshots came from. With my Lucent Gun drawn, I pointed it into the room. Mortimer stood at the end of the bed. Tendrils of smoke floated up from his Ombre Gun. A doctor was strewn over Sid, his white coat stained with red where Mortimer had shot him. Sid’s heart monitor had flatlined; I was too late. I could feel myself fading fast as I fell to my knees.
Mortimer turned around. He looked down at me triumphantly and pointed his Ombre Gun at me just as I raised mine to shoot him. My world faded to black before I could p
ull the trigger.
Nineteen
“What do we do now?” Walter’s voice rumbled.
“I’m not sure,” Agatha responded quietly. “This could be the end of London as we know it.” A damp cloth was taken off my head and replaced with a new one. I moaned as my eyes fluttered open.
“Rose!” Walter said, moving in. He was sitting at the foot of my bed. Agatha had just leaned away from me after placing the healing balm on my forehead.
“How do you feel?” Agatha asked. My head felt like it was filled with lead. I put my fist onto the cloth on my forehead and closed my eyes.
“I’ve felt better.” A strange thought entered my head out of the blue: the way that Walter and Agatha were sitting by my bedside, it almost felt like they were concerned parents. I forced a grimace to hide the smile.
“Sid,” I said. “Is he…” I didn’t want to say it, but Walter and Agatha knew what I was going to ask.
“Yes,” Agatha sighed. “He’s dead.” I stared at Agatha’s back as she got up and busied herself at the table. Walter looked at me intently, his eyes hooded and expression unreadable.
“What happened?” I asked, trying to sit up. “Did I die?”
“No,” Walter said. A shadow crossed his face before a familiar, warm smile graced his lips. “Agatha,” he said glancing back at the nun, “managed to come and save you, just in the nick of time.”
“I knew you were tiring,” Agatha said with her back to us. “When that Conflicted cut you with his scalpel, I knew that we were already too late.” She turned around with a fresh cloth, infused with a healing balm and placed it by my bedside. “Luckily I came when I did; Mortimer was going to end you right then and there.” I smiled weakly at her.
