The Glass Blade

by Ryan Wieser

  Jessop sighed heavily, and looked to Kohl. She knew the procedure would hurt—and she needed him to undergo it. “Are you good?”

  He offered her a small smile. “I’ve survived worse.”

  Jessop stared at the bare flesh on her left forearm. She wanted it on top of her arm, where the skin was rougher, as opposed to the softer underside. The medic finally lowered his clipboard and glanced over her and Kohl. A small smile finally crossed his face as he reached into a glass drawer and pulled out a fresh pair of gloves. “Who first?”

  “Me,” Jessop and Kohl both answered in unison.

  The medic looked from Jessop to Kohl and back to her, his dark eyes darting over them with amusement. “Ladies first,” he quipped, wheeling his stool towards Jessop.

  Jessop took a deep breath and leaned forward, resting her arm on the side table, beside the tray that held the devices. The medic reached into a glass cabinet beside them and rummaged around until he finally pulled out an electric drill. He pressed on the drill’s power button and it whirred readily. He smiled up to her, placing the drill on the table. “This will only hurt for a moment.”

  He grabbed a small canister off of the tray and sprayed the top of Jessop’s forearm. “Antiseptic,” he explained, ensuring the area was clean. She could feel Kohl’s fingers curling around her free hand. The medic then picked up the silver-tracking device and slowly lowered it onto the top of her forearm. She saw, sitting on one side of the silver tray, a pile of tiny silver screws, and the tracking device had six holes along its perimeter. Which meant she would have six screws drilled into her bare flesh.

  You can handle this.

  As the medic reached for the first screw, Kohl began to question him. “Who ordered you to not use anesthesia? Because they must have been mistaken. This constitutes torture.”

  “There was no mistake, Hunter O’Hanlon, and you both have the option to not participate,” the medic answered dully, lowering the screw into a corner hole of the silver device. Jessop could feel its dull tip pressing into her flesh. She took a slow, deep breath as the medic placed the drill bit into the groove of the screw.

  She could sense Kohl’s nerves overcoming him, his hand tightening around her as he pressed on. “This is ridiculous—there’s no reason you can’t do this painlessly.”

  At his words, the medic glanced up from his power tool to Kohl. He looked the Hunter over for a second, and nodded. “No, there’s not.”

  And then he pressed the power button.

  * * * *

  Jessop couldn’t stop shaking. It hadn’t taken long, but it had been an excruciating torture. Her arm rattled against the table as the medic began to spray her with another round of antiseptic. He held out some gauze. “To wipe the blood away.”

  She couldn’t reach for it. She couldn’t move. Tears and blood had dried against her skin. She wanted to kill the man. Kohl grabbed the gauze from him and gingerly dabbed at her arm, softly touching the metal plate. Bruises were already formed around the perimeter of her bulging flesh, where the metal pressed unnaturally into her.

  She couldn’t let Kohl undergo this—not the way she had. She knew someone could have helped her with that pain and she was determined to help Kohl. He had held on to her, the whole time, telling her she would be fine. She would protect him, even if it meant giving too much of herself away again. Even if it meant wiping a few more memories… She couldn’t let him suffer the torment.

  The medic pulled the side table away from her, forcing her to retract her arm. She could kill him, with a simple slip into his mind—she could end his life. She glared at him as he wheeled himself and the side table to the space directly in front of Kohl. “You’re up, Hunter.”

  Kohl shook his head at the medic as he placed his forearm onto the table. “I’ll see you lose your job over this. You and whoever gave you these orders.”

  The medic nodded slowly. “If you say so,” he mumbled, spraying the top of Kohl’s arm. Jessop rested her injured arm in her lap, and with her free hand she grabbed onto Kohl’s shoulder. The medic had placed the silver device onto his forearm. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  She was in. She was swimming amongst the sea of images, memories, thoughts, and dreams. She needed to find the moment they were living, she needed to disconnect Kohl from his experience, separate his brain from his body and block his pain receptors. She knew it was possible, as it had been done to her before, but she had never had much reason to do it for another.

  She could feel his body shaking under her touch, and she could hear his muffled agony. She worked faster, until she found what appeared to be streams of red light, travelling around his mind, seemingly setting fire to his conscience. Those had to be the messages of pain, being created in real time, travelling to and from his bleeding forearm to his suffering mind.

  She took a deep breath and concentrated on the red streams of light. She envisioned herself grabbing them, containing them, and squashing them under her mighty grasp. It was different from tearing at a memory—it was more abstract, as no memory was yet formed. But as she envisioned attacking the streaks of red light, Kohl grew quieter, his shaking subdued.

  When she was certain she had the pain receptors isolated, she opened her eyes. The medic was drilling the last screw into Kohl’s arm. She watched as the blood trailed down his forearm, staining his hands. She tilted her head, and found Kohl staring at her with his large hazel eyes, glossy from tears. He was no longer in pain—and he knew she was the reason for it.

  * * * *

  The medic stared up at her from his stool, his narrow eyes darkening with suspicion. He flicked his gaze from Kohl to her, to Kohl’s bloodied arm, to her again. “What did you do?” His thin voice was tight between his pursed lips.

  “What?” Kohl asked, looking down to the medic, who continued to stare at her.

  “He stopped feeling it—what did you do, woman?” The medic yelled, leaping up from his seat and leaning into Jessop. She moved with a speed he could have never anticipated, kicking him in the chest so roughly that he practically flipped over his swiveling seat. She hurdled forward, sure to keep her freshly wounded arm close to her chest. She crouched on top of the man. Her feet on either side of his chest, her face right before his, her good hand resting on his sweaty cheek. He stared at her with a horrified gaze.

  “Jessop!” Kohl yelled, but he didn’t touch her.

  She was in the medic’s mind in an instant. “You will only remember installing the tracking devices, and that we were both in excruciating pain. Nothing else. When I get off of you, you will instruct us on how to use the devices. And you will never do anything like this again,” she ordered him aloud as she worked through his mind, snipping at his memories and tweaking his sadistic desires.

  When she was through making the necessary changes she stood, backing away from the man slowly before taking her seat once again beside Kohl. She could feel his stare boring into her, but she kept her gaze on the medic. He stood, seemingly confused but unbothered. He corrected his stool, sat, and began to clean Kohl’s arm.

  “If you press this command button, the screen will come on and you will be able to communicate to one another with visual feed. This button is simply audio and this one brings up the geo-location of the other on a map. The most important thing is that you’re never more than one mile apart, otherwise, a small detonator will go off and it’s bye-bye arm,” he explained, his voice flat and dull.

  He pressed one of the buttons, and the screens lit up on both her and Kohl’s arms. He pressed it again, and the screen went black. He said nothing further and he did not look at her again as he limply stood, turned, and walked out the door.

  As soon as they were alone, she leapt off the white-sheeted bed. “I don’t want to hear it, Kohl. Yes, I can do more than you know, and I can get in people’s heads, and I got in yours to make sure you weren’t in pain—bec
ause I couldn’t stand it!”

  She took a step back, bumping into the swivel stool as he stood. He moved the stool, his hazel eyes locked on her.

  “I couldn’t let you suffer, not like that, not because of me, so if you want to be mad, be mad, but you either accept it or—”

  Before she could say anything further, he had pulled her into a tight embrace. She felt his mouth against her neck, his strong arms firmly grasping her, his warm breath as he exhaled deeply. “Thank you, Jessop.”

  And she relaxed in his arms.

  She hugged him back. Had the circumstances made him more receptive to her abilities? Could he, possibly, handle the truth?

  “This all makes more sense,” he spoke, his lips moving against her skin. “Now, I can explain to the Council what they have been sensing. You can show them your abilities, and we can fix all of this,” he offered. He was still holding her tight.

  It was a sharp pang of realization, a tightening around her heart… He still couldn’t keep the truth about her a secret from his mentors. Whether he learnt in anger or with gratitude, he was loyal first, and always, to the Council.

  She continued to hold him as she raised her hand to the back of his neck. She continued to hold him as she worked through his mind, erasing, once again, the truth about her.

  * * * *

  Jessop held her arm against her chest as they walked the glass halls, leaving the medical wing behind them. She was in pain, but not simply because of her arm. She didn’t know why she kept hoping he could know the truth about her and be able to keep it to himself. She didn’t know if it was to assuage her own guilt for sleeping with him or for lying to him, or if it was because some part of her truly had cared for him, the option which made her feel guiltiest of all… She knew that in the time she had been in the Blade, Kohl O’Hanlon had gone from being her means to an end, to something more. She just didn’t know what… or how.

  “I can’t believe I don’t remember the pain,” Kohl mused, shaking his head down at her.

  “Yeah, shock can do weird things to a person,” she shrugged, keeping her eyes forward.

  “I’m going to find out who did this, Jessop, I promise. Whoever made us undergo that, with that psychopath, will have some serious explaining to do.” Jessop couldn’t believe the unwavering faith Kohl had in his mentor. It almost made it difficult for her to spell it out for him.

  “Hanson did this, Kohl. Hydo is knocked out, Trax wouldn’t, the other Council members had nothing to do with the tracking device idea—it was Hanson.”

  Kohl stopped abruptly and extended his good arm, touching her shoulder to yield her. “You can’t just say things like that, Jessop. I know you two don’t like one another, but you don’t know he did this.”

  She shrugged his hand off, walking past him. “I’m not in the mood for this, Kohl.”

  He was in her way in an instant, blocking her path. “Well, I wasn’t in the mood to have my arm scarred up for you, but hey, these are the things we do for one another.”

  “I didn’t force you to do that, Kohl, and I didn’t ask Hanson to pair us or to send you on any mission. Open your eyes, it was your damn mentor,” she snapped back, raising her voice to match his.

  He threw his good arm out in the air with frustration, his loud voice echoing off the glass and reverberating around them. “Hanson wouldn’t have some medic try to torture me.”

  “Are you kidding me? He is using you as bait for Falco Bane, he nearly killed you in some sadistic Hunter ritual that no one talks about, and he’s the one who forced you to get this damn device put in, in the first place!”

  His dark eyes locked on her with anger. “Stop talking about the ritual—you think you know something about it because it messed up Falco, but you don’t! You don’t know anything about the ritual, about Hunters, or me, for that matter.”

  She was furious. She sidestepped him and he got in her way, again and again. She had never seen him so mad and she had never been so mad because of him. She didn’t know if it was the pain, the torture they had undergone, or their histories of suffering that made them incapable of changing their loyalties and thoughts. She didn’t know if it was their feelings for one another, which she could only deny for so much longer, or her hatred of Hanson Knell for what he had done to him… She felt as though she knew nothing save one singular fact. “I know your loyalty blinds you, Kohl O’Hanlon!”

  He looked her over with ridicule and doubt. “What could someone like you ever know about loyalty?”

  She resisted every urge she had to hurt him, every urge she had to once again show him the truth. “Just wait and see.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Her forearm was the color of a plum, and quite possibly the worst bruise she had ever donned. She stared down at the metal contraption, screwed into her flesh, and grimaced. She was as upset about the idea of being linked to Kohl as she was about being disfigured in the first place. Gingerly, she dabbed the damp cloth against the marred flesh, touching at the freshly wounded skin with the soapy cloth until she felt as though she had sufficiently cleaned it.

  The device was disgusting. She felt as though she were somehow part human, part machine, and fully deformed. It wasn’t her vanity that plagued her, for she had a body covered with scars. It was feeling like her independence, and her privacy, had been permanently impaired. She had a part of herself bound to Kohl; he could reach her at any time, whenever he pleased, and see her and know her whereabouts. It was as though they had married her off to him.

  She stared down at the small screen. It made her feel on edge, as though she were anticipating his face to appear on her arm at any given moment. She cursed the Council under her breath and forced her gaze away. She studied her reflection in the mirror, her face becoming clearer as the steam from the washing stall slowly dissipated. Her long dark mane was still damp, hanging in long vines around her small face. Her dark, wet lashes framed her large green eyes. Her nose seemed slightly bruised, and her full lips curled tightly around a curse she hissed in Hanson’s name.

  She couldn’t quite put into words the extent to which she hated the old Hunter. He had done nothing but train and torment Kohl for all the younger man’s life. She thought of her life in the Blade, and how vastly different it was compared to her years in Aranthol. She had her reasons for seeking out the Hunters of Infinity, but they did not know all that she knew, all that she was capable of, all that she thought of them. Women were not trained to be Hunters, women were not meant to know Sentio, and she didn’t come so far only to be killed by the Council for disclosing her true self to them.

  She would continue with the Council, and Hanson, as she had with Kohl and Trax. She would win over their trust, she would prove herself to them, and with time, they would become more receptive towards the possibility of her true nature. She wouldn’t hide forever, but she knew, thanks to Kohl’s reactions, that it was too soon still. She fixed her tunic, forcing her gaze away from the hideous tracking device. She knew she needed to go speak with him. Their relationship had, admittedly, gotten out of her hands. She hadn’t remained in control with him, and while sleeping with him had secured her a position within his life, it had also opened doors she was not prepared to walk through. Doors she would never be prepared to walk through.

  She knew the love that resided within her… And she knew how controlled she would always have to be around Kohl O’Hanlon because of it.

  * * * *

  Jessop stumbled back, quick to guard her forearm from further injury. She had collided with Kohl, both of them having turned the corner of the corridor too quickly. She held her arm to her chest protectively, watching as he hissed in pain, assessing his own forearm.

  “Sorry, I was actually coming to find you,” she said, glancing over the scarlet flesh surrounding his device.

  He slowly lowered his arm. “Same.”

  She forced a small smile
as they stood in silence. She knew she needed to repair their relationship… she just didn’t know how to go about it. She had taken so much from him, and he had disappointed her so greatly, but worst of all—she had let herself care. She had made herself vulnerable to disappointment. She cared about his negative reaction to her true self; she cared about manipulating his mind again and again… She didn’t know how to properly care for him, and she didn’t know how to stop caring entirely.

  “The Assembly Council has called a meeting, so I came to get you,” he explained.

  She nodded slowly. She had expected this. Their tracking devices had been fitted, it was time for her loyalties to be put to the test. They were going to be sent on a hunt. She looked Kohl over slowly, from his dark eyes, to his twisted scars, to his tied back mane of golden hair. And she felt fearful. She didn’t want him to fall prey to Falco. There were many things she could do—but stopping Falco from killing his former friend was not one she was most certain of.

  “They are going to send us on a hunt, they just need to tell us formally,” he added, staring at her as he spoke.

  She couldn’t do anything right by Kohl O’Hanlon; she couldn’t feel or proceed with him any differently. She could never give him what he wanted; the future he envisioned was not one where a warrior, such as herself, stood by his side. He yearned for a wife, a gracious, childbearing woman who lived to love him. He deserved such a life. He may have loved her strength, but he hadn’t understood it was the same strength which she used to build walls up around her. She couldn’t offer him a future, nor honesty… the least she could do was attempt to ensure his safety.

  “Jessop, are you even listening to me?”

  His voice pulled her back, and she found his hand resting on her shoulder. She looked over his scarred fingers, the way they curled around her skin with such tenderness. She followed a slender, silver scar down his hand, and over his wrist. Another, one that appeared to be from a burn, curled over his forearm before disappearing into the messy red skin that still smarted from his tracking device. She looked up into his hazel eyes and before he could say anything else, she kissed him.