The Waif's Tale

by C. L. Stegall

  "Wait until we get on the ground," Dawn said, picking up on the concentration in my expression. "You might have a better shot then." It irritated me that she knew what I was thinking, even though I realized it was a simple deduction. Still, I couldn't argue. I needed to be closer to my target to try and get a bead on her thoughts.

  An hour and a half later, we were marching down Quai des Tuileries, scanning the Jardin for signs of our quarry. I stretched out my thoughts, as Dawn guided us using the GPS signal, which was directing us toward the Arc de Triomphe. We found London sitting on a bench.

  "You take this side," Dawn instructed. "I'll approach from the opposite. Let's see if we can make this as painless as possible." It was very very early morning, closing in on false dawn and there was hardly anyone around. Making a scene, though, in this area was never a wise notion. I nodded and Dawn quickly disappeared. I strolled up to London.

  I was surprised that when she saw me coming she didn't even make a move to escape. I walked up and sat down beside her. I noted Dawn's presence, as she neared from the other side of London.

  "I got farther than I expected," she said.

  "What the hell is going on, Sarah?" I asked. "We're supposed to take you back to face trial for treason." I watched the expression on her face open and then narrow as if she were somewhat taken aback, but then understood something profound. Without another word she reached up with one hand, stared me in the eye and pointed to her temple. I got it. My mind slipped quickly and easily into hers. We would not have much time before Dawn engaged.

  In a quick series of flashes, I had it. The goals of Cassandra and her cohorts — and there were many — as well as the reasons London ended up joining in on the apparent sedition. I was stunned. At first, I found it difficult to believe, even more difficult than to believe that London was a traitor. Still, the facts were all there, the evidence that London had garnered, brilliantly displayed in clear and concise memories. It was impossible to fake that level of thought, at least as far as I was aware.

  "Is that all true?" I said, noting Dawn's approach.

  London nodded, glancing over at Dawn. She motioned for Dawn to sit next to her on the bench, which the elder Guardswoman did.

  "I figured someone would come for me pretty quickly. He didn't waste much time sending his best, did he?"

  "So, you admit it?" Dawn stated.

  "I admit nothing," London replied. Her shoulders were slumped and she wrung her hands in her lap. "I just knew he couldn't let the truth get out. You're supposed to take me back? I'm surprised he just didn't send a Protector to kill me outright."

  "I don't understand," I said, placing my hand on her knee.

  "What is there to understand?" Dawn said. "We were assigned to come and get her, bring her back to the Citadel to face trial. That is what we will do. Simple as that."

  "Dawn, do you not see what I see, here? You don't even know the truth."

  "What truth? I see a woman who is resigned to the fate set before her. That makes things simple. And, London, if you make things difficult for us, I might ensure you get back alive but you might not be so sound. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Dawn!" I said.

  London only nodded. "It's okay, Paris. Today will be as good a day as any."

  "A good day for what?" I asked. She turned her stunning face to me, brushing back a strand of her jet-black hair behind her ear.

  "Dying."

  CHAPTER 70

  PRESENT

  I refused to cry out, although the pain was as bad as that day in Paris, not so long ago. I still had those scars. It seemed the wannabe would be adding even more to my collection.

  "How do I become a vampire?" he asked, his words slow and deliberate, as he eased the blade from my gut.

  "You have to die," I said. I was actually being truthful but I knew that he was so far gone he would never believe the truth.

  "I wonder," he said, taking a step back to look me up and down. "How much pain can you people really take? The last one, well, I screwed that up. I won't be taking anything for granted with you."

  "How did you screw up?" I asked, realizing that I found myself curious about his last encounter with a Valensi.

  "I didn't secure him properly. Foolish mistake."

  "You mean he got away?" I found the idea funny for some reason.

  "No. Of course not. I had to kill him to protect myself." He pointed to the wire around my neck. "I determined that such thin industrial wiring would be more suitable to keeping one of you immobilized. Unless you want to decapitate yourself, you aren't going anywhere."

  "You sly dog, you." I almost giggled when I remembered I could just pummel this guy with my mind. but, then, if I did, I still had no way out of this situation. I would be stuck here forever. Not a great plan, so I held off on any psionic attack. I would need a different tactic, here. "So, I have to ask, dude. Why do you want to live forever?"

  "Why did you?" he asked.

  "It was part of the deal. It wasn't what I wanted, in the beginning."

  "Explain." I saw him return to his stool and knew I had his attention.

  "I was a kid. I was dying. I was given a choice: become what I am now, or die. What would you have done?"

  "You mean you never wanted to be a vampire?"

  "I didn't even know what the hell a vampire was, man. Like I said, I was just a kid."

  " but, now you have the strength and longevity denied to us mere humans. You should be happy about that, right?"

  "What is there to be happy about? A near eternity of the same bullshit you go through on a daily basis? Heartbreak? Frustration? Fear? It doesn't matter whether you live 80 years or 800, it's all the same." Even as I spoke, I found myself wondering if I was finally telling myself the truth. I'd thought I was happy, especially with Garrett. I had a home. I had a purpose. Now, all of that was gone. Maybe I was resigning myself to my fate. What did it matter if this dumbass wannabe stole my life from me? What was it worth anymore, anyway?

  "Why are you crying?" he asked, leaning forward.

  "I guess I see myself without blinders for a change." I glanced at him, and then closed my eyes to it all. "It's not a pretty sight."

  "I can help," he said.

  I opened my eyes and peered at him. At first, I thought that he might have reconsidered but then I reached into his mind out of reaction and disregard. What was this guy all about, really? I could see his desire, how it drove his every action. He would stop at nothing to become immortal. It was the idea of our strength and power that gave him motivation. The thing I found most amusing was that he had no fucking clue what to do with it even if he managed to achieve it.

  "No," I replied. "You can't help. You can only harm. Just as I have done over the past century, your nature will only make you a better killer should you become one of us. I cannot have that on my conscience. So, you go ahead and do what you need to do, kid. It's time I paid for my sins."

  He sat there for a full minute. I refrained from slipping back into his thoughts. There was no point. He would do whatever he was going to do. I did not need to see it coming. After a minute, he stood and moved closer.

  "I suppose I should use this opportunity to see what I have to look forward to, then, huh?" he said. He then used the knife to cut through my shirt, tearing the shredded cloth away, leaving me in my bra. He looked down at the wound he had inflicted earlier and the scars from Dawn's vicious attack. The wound he'd made was already clotted and closing. Using some of my torn shirt, he wiped the blood away to get a clearer picture of the progress. "Your healing abilities are incredible."

  I watched him turn and walk to the countertop that ran several feet along the wall of the room. I recognized the thick wire cutters he retrieved as similar to those that Dawn had used on Gregor Waltz. I wasn't certain whether I should be relieved when, on second thought, he placed the wire cutters back on the countertop. Instead, he retrieved a set of thick brass knuckles and slipped them onto his right hand.

  "I w
ant to know how to become a vampire," he said.

  "Fuck you."

  "As you wish." With that he closed on me, sending an earth-shattering punch into the side of my face. I felt and heard, my jawbone crack. My head was wrought to the right from the force of the punch and the wire cut into my neck, as well. Spewing blood and spit and a couple of teeth, I tried to curse at him but the words came out all but incomprehensible.

  He followed through with more punches to my gut and then stepped back to observe his handiwork. "How long do you think it will take for that jaw to heal?" he said, running his bloodied fingers along his own jaw line in question. "I should probably try and set it back in place, right? Otherwise, that lovely face will be ruined for sure."

  The wannabe put the brass knuckles aside and then grasped my forehead in one hand, my jawbone in another. With a violent, sickening crunch, he reset the bones and I whimpered reflexively. I hated that he got that much out of me. I kept my eyes closed, trying desperately to control my breathing with the techniques I'd picked up from Master Asaro. It wasn't happening.

  "I have to give it to you," he said, sitting back down on the stool for the moment. "You're one tough chick. You realize that this only firms my resolve, right? We can do this all week. If that is what it takes to get the information I need, then that's what I'll do. Why make this so difficult on yourself?"

  When I spoke, it was in halting sets of words, painful and slobbery with blood and saliva. "Because, you do not deserve to be what you aspire to be."

  "Why not? What makes you so better than me?"

  "I earned it."

  "Really?" he said, cocking his head to one side. "How's that?"

  "I spent years training, learning and preparing."

  "So have I."

  "No. What you've spent your time on is coercion, torture and murder. My journey was honorable. Yours is little more than desecration." I could not control the tears that escaped my eyes as I spoke through the burning anguish that was my mouth.

  "I understand your reticence. I really do. but, you need to understand that this choice is not yours. You have no choice but to tell me what I want to know. I won't kill you. We'll just dance this dance until you give in. You know that, right?"

  The shock was evident in his eyes when I laughed out loud, sending blood in an arc that failed to reach his feet. "What you fail to understand, you wannabe motherfucker, is that I am Paris of the High Guard and you have no idea what I am capable of. So, here's my last request: kiss my ass!"

  My tenuous grip on sanity seemed to slip away from me and I fell into uncontrollable laughter, ignoring the thin wire cutting into my throat. I repeated my request through my hysterics and the wannabe just sat there, waiting for me to finish. He then stood from the stool and strolled back to the workbench.

  "I know that the sun is your enemy," he said, reaching for what looked to be a small butane torch. “But, what about fire?" The wannabe turned back to face me but I kept my tongue. He nodded his head, the corners of his mouth turning down in understanding. He knew I was done talking. It was all over but the screaming.

  I realized I had passed out when the pain was what brought me back around. He stood in front of me with the torch in his hand. The flame was off. From the searing agony on my belly, it appeared that he had been kind enough to cauterize the knife wound while testing out my pain threshold.

  "How'd I do?" I asked through heavy breaths.

  "Not bad. Let's try again, shall we?" He brought the handheld torch back up, clicking the blue flame into life. The flame touched my chest where my bra came together in the front. When I realized what was next, the only thing I could do was close my eyes and try and shut my mind down. I didn't have time.

  Darkness overtook me to the sounds of my own screams.

  CHAPTER 71

  Five Days Ago, Paris, France

  I focused on London, sending a thought into her mind. She nodded almost imperceptibly but Dawn was more observant than most.

  Dawn's hand struck out with lightning speed, her claw-like fingernails slashing into London's cheek, as she twisted and followed with a vicious punch so hard that London's head snapped back and I heard bones crack, most likely her ribs against the back of the bench. London was out cold.

  "I always hoped I was wrong," Dawn said, standing and wiping the blood from her hands onto her pants. Her eyes bored into me with undeniable hate. "Still, I never trusted you. I always knew that your loyalty was only a mask, a survival instinct. but, you've just made a grievous error. One that will cost you your precious survival."

  "You don't understand," I said. "The magistrate is the bad guy, here." I was on my feet and in a fighting stance in the blink of an eye. "I can't let you take her back there."

  "And, yet, you will," she replied, waving her crimson-stained hand over London's unconscious body. "I have no orders to bring you back alive, though. I'll be doing everyone a favor by eliminating one traitor and capturing another. You've accomplished nothing but your own destruction. A task at which I will take great pleasure in completing."

  "Please don't do this." I did not want it to end like this. I wouldn't beg but my life was on the line in more ways than one. Even as I spoke the words, I could see that there would be no dissuading her. All the years of her supposed distrust of me had just been validated. Her eyes narrowed and I shut down my emotions in the span of a breath.

  We launched ourselves at each other.

  Dawn was a dastardly fighter. On more than one occasion she'd put me on my ass, broken a bone or flat out knocked me unconscious during sparring. This was to be nothing like sparring. Today, it was me or her.

  Our hands and feet flew in unerring combos, both of us taking hits and returning the favor. It didn't take a genius to see that she was faster than I was. She wasn't quite as graceful but she had a couple of inches on me and maybe ten pounds. She used it all to her advantage, the force of her blows causing me to retreat more often than I managed to advance.

  Our dance of death began to find its rhythm. Her attacks were quick and vicious, mine were fluid and powerful. Within minutes, both she and I had significant injuries, yet nothing that impeded our battle. My left eye was beginning to swell and Dawn was starting to take great advantage of it. Her attacks came more from her right, even though she was left-handed.

  Dawn came in with a roundhouse kick. I ducked just in time, striking out for the inside of her knee. I connected but it was a glancing blow. Still, it was enough to cause her to take a step back. I scanned our environment. Open ground surrounded us, with only a few steel benches impeding any movement.

  "You have no idea how long I've wanted to see just which one of us would come out on top if we stopped holding back." A smile of inordinate pleasure spread across her face for just a moment and I realized that it actually detracted from her beauty. I'd always thought she was a beautiful girl on the outside. Such a shame it wasn't the case for the inside, as well.

  "You mean you were holding back," I teased, as I began to sketch out my plan in my head. It was difficult to admit that she was better than me but the truth hurt sometimes. All things even, I knew that I would fall to Dawn's hands. All things weren't even, though, were they?

  "You're about to find out just how much." She performed a strange skipping movement and closed on me faster than I could prepare. Her body swooped down, like a boxer's, side-to-side and then her left hand shot out toward me. The wind huffed out of me at the moment of connection and I was almost certain she had cracked a rib. I struggled to catch my breath and it was all I could do to time my downward blow. Luck was with me and my fist met her shoulder just below the neck. We both retreated.

  "I am so going to enjoy killing you," she said, rotating her shoulder in pain.

  "Bring it on, bitch." I advanced on her, a bench to my left and a plan finally taking form in my head. I could use the benches to protect my left side, to an extent. Or, so I thought.

  Dawn bolted toward me, shifting to her right, leaping up to
use the bench as a connection point. The push-off from the metal seating accelerated her momentum toward me and I heard music in my head. With a deft turn and the folding of my body, hands to toes, I performed a graceful, doubled-over pirouette narrowly avoiding her attack.

  We faced each other once again, each trying to determine our next moves. My heart was beating fast and I realized that Dawn appeared to barely be winded at all. Once more, the thought crossed my mind that I might not survive this confrontation after all. Then, that deep-seated survival instinct kicked in and my mind cleared and focused on the task at hand.

  "So, tell me, what did I ever do to you?" I said, as we circled each other.

  "I spent so much time building my reputation. I was always his favorite before you showed up. Then it was Paris this and Paris that. My God how I've come to loathe the very sound of your name. I can't even bear being in this city anymore."

  "You're jealous of me?" My exclamation took us both by surprise.

  "Don't flatter yourself, asshole. I'm better than you. Always have been. You were just different. All shiny and new," she said, her lip curled up in disgust. "Well, today all of that changes. Things will go back to normal, even better probably. Today, I take my rightful place once again. After I finish you once and for all."

  Dawn came at me with a flurry of punches and kicks. I fended her off the best I could, letting the music rise in my mind. My body finally took hold of the beat, the rhythm. The dance began in earnest.

  My hands snuck out and twice I ripped into her pretty face, tearing the skin and splitting her lip. My body twisted and turned, lifting and falling to avoid the majority of her attacks. I misjudged the timing once and her nails ripped through my right ear, the blood sluicing down the side of my neck.

  We each backed off and circled, both of us now breathing heavier. I could see the damage I had dealt her and vice versa. We circled one another, bloodied and battered, neither giving an inch. It was time.