by Billy Wong
"If you really want to go hard," he said after, "be my guest, but please stick to doing it against each other. I am not the person you want to play that game with."
It took him a little off guard when they wanted to train with him again the same week, though it could be early enthusiasm that would taper off with time. Regardless, he had enough free time to spare at present, so he indulged their request for biweekly meetups for now. Shortly into their fourth session, a red-faced Elliot ran into the dance room where they sparred. "Guys, there's been another murder!"
They followed him outside, where it drizzled as a crowd gathered around a corner of the music building. Past a trio of guards trying to obscure the view, a grisly scene could be glimpsed. "No..." Charlene breathed, blanching. Despite her skills, it seemed she hadn't seen much in the way of carnage or at least wasn't inured to it. Peggy wasn't as affected, unsurprising given her actions back when the tulvares attacked, but still started at the sight of a school uniform-clad body lying in two pieces amid the rain. Blood stained the ground red around them. "Does this mean the boy I caught wasn't the murderer?"
Rupert shook his head. "No, considering he confessed I would still bet on him having committed the prior killings. This is likely the work of his accomplice."
"But he was so firm on not having one, when he admitted easily to everything else. I felt like I should believe him."
"That stab wound, though..."
"If it wasn't his accomplice," Peggy put in, "could it be a copycat, or more like someone inspired by him to succumb to their own derangement?"
He scratched his chin. "Seems too much of a coincidence for there to be multiple unhinged murderers showing up at school in a short time. But I suppose anything's possible."
"It looks like he was sliced in half," a boy was saying frightfully.
"What could have done this?" another asked.
A girl spoke up. "I saw something before... I thought I was daydreaming, but now I don't know! I thought I saw a tall cloaked figure in the shadows with an enormous scythe, its face a ecstatically grinning skull..."
"A reaper?" Charlene said looking at Rupert. "I'd have to assume that was just a daydream."
"I don't know. It's far from beyond the realm of possibility for someone to dress like that while sating their desire to kill."
"Is it normal to be able to bisect a man with one swing of a scythe, though?" Elliot asked.
"No, most certainly not. I imagine it would take vast strength similar to that of PP at least."
Charlene clenched her jaw. "If that's the case, this Grin Reaper, for lack of a better term, would be a more fearsome threat than the one it's replaced."
"Wait," Peggy said, "didn't you say the boy you captured was stronger than he looked too?"
"Yes, he seemed like he might've been stronger than me, a wild strength with which he tried to overpower me in the restroom. I have skill too though, and after knocking him back with a headbutt laid him out with my kick."
"You're stronger than most male students, if not juggernauts like myself." It was funny to hear the pugilistic pixie refer to herself that way with her appearance, but one could hardly deny her brutal force. "For such a slim boy who wasn't known as a fighter or athlete to rival you doesn't seem natural."
"It could have been 'insane' strength like I've heard of," Rupert mused, "but if this new killer and him both possess unusual strength, there might be a link. Perhaps we should pay Gwen another visit and see if we can get anything out of her."
They learned later the victim wasn't a fighter or even interested in watching fights, so that wasn't a link they could make between the previous murderer and this reaper. After discussing it with Meg, they concluded that Rupert might be able to connect better with the introverted Gwen than the more outgoing girls. He found her with her bespectacled eyes buried in a book at the library, and sitting next to her said, "Princes and Princesses of Aerilea? That looks like an interesting read. I wonder how up to date it is on the current generation, as in Julianna and her son Julian."
Without looking at him, she replied, "The book was written fifty years ago, so I'm pretty certain thirty-something Julianna and her kid didn't make the cut."
"Makes sense. Kind of impressive you can still take enjoyment in a book right now, with what's been happening on campus as of late."
Her voice took on an annoyed edge. "If you're some guy looking to woo me with an offer of 'protection,' I'm not interested. Go away."
Rupert recoiled slightly at her directness. "That's not what I'm after. I just wanted to ask if you or your friend Hughie might have known anybody who liked reaper or death imagery or had a giant scythe for a weapon."
She lowered the tome, and her eyes narrowed to see him. "Oh it's you. Didn't I tell your friend before, while you were with her? So again, go away."
"Couldn't there be something not obvious, that might come to mind if you take a moment to think about it? I know you just want to be left alone, but the killer on the loose now doesn't seem to discriminate when it comes to victims and many people like you could be in jeopardy—maybe including yourself."
"I told you I don't know anything! Fine, if you won't leave then I'll go!" She threw the book down on the table and stormed out of the library. Looking after her, he shook his head. This wouldn't be easy, but her melodramatic reaction only made him suspect more that she was hiding something.
Chapter 9
After Rupert reported how his encounter with Gwen had gone, Meg asked some club members to watch her and see if she did anything suspicious. A couple of days later, Meg and Patrick were summoned to Sabina Ravensgrave's office. They arrived to see that Joshua, one of the boys who had agreed to help keep an eye on Gwen, sat fidgeting in a chair in front of the silver-haired woman reclining behind her desk. "Sorry, guys," he said.
Sabina gazed coolly at them. "This boy was following around a certain female student, who caught him doing so and reported it. While young men ogling the opposite gender is not uncommon, in this particular instance, would I be wrong to think the two of you put him up to it?"
Patrick began, "Well, we-"
She held up a hand. "No need to explain, I understand your thinking. You are concerned about the dangerous murderer roaming around, and wish to aid in stopping him. But you should remember you are students, even if admired ones with a unique background. It's not your place to investigate crimes on campus. Trust us to handle our duty, unless you disrespect us so, you have no faith we can do even that?"
"But Joshua did nothing wrong," Meg protested. "He didn't even approach her from the sound of it"—and given she had advised him and the others not to—"how can that be considered harmful and what proof is there he was tailing her and didn't just happen to be going the same places?"
"A game of semantics is not one that will benefit you, when there are plenty of technicalities we can call upon to make life difficult for you and your friends. Part of the Universal Guard's mission to ensure the university's students feel comfortable, and behaviors to the contrary such as stalking will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes ma'am," she said grudgingly. "Can we go now?"
"Of course, and take your friend with you. I should hope I won't hear about him or you from Gwen again."
Exiting into the hall with the boys, she exchanged looks with Patrick. "It seems like our attempt to take justice into our own hands offends her," he said. "Or, at a further stretch, it could be there's something she doesn't want us to uncover."
"Possible. Guess we'll just have to be more subtle."
"Looks like we need someone stealthier than our club friends." He grinned. "Sounds right up my alley."
#
Patrick tailed Gwen after classes for the next few days without being noticed, yet also didn't see her doing anything suspicious. He wondered how Meg fared having to do most of her own schoolwork along with everything else she was burdened with, but when he asked she claimed with dark circles under sleepy eyes that
she held up fine. It reminded him of how tough and unyielding his friend was, even if not exactly in a perilous situation, and his admiration for her because of it. He continued to shadow Gwen, beginning to grow discouraged until one evening he found her descending into the basement of the abandoned chapel where they had held the finals of the tournament. That was a curious turn of events to say the least. He followed her down a dusty cobweb-filled hall, then saw her squeeze through a creaking door ahead. Her voice reached his ears, and he stopped before the portal.
"Brother," she said softly to the point of being near inaudible, "what are you doing?"
A male voice, sounding incredibly deep to be that of a youthful student, replied, "You believe I am responsible for recent events? How you mistrust your brother, do you think so little of me?"
"It's not that, but who else could it be? That other boy still seems his usual self... and besides, you're the one with that tattoo..."
Patrick's heart raced with excitement. A mysterious, probably older sibling hiding in the dark places of the school? This had potential to be a good lead, especially when Gwen herself seemed to suspect him. Listening in for a little longer, he heard no more words between the two, but neither did Gwen emerge. Maybe they were having a heartfelt moment together, as much as she might not condone his actions—it was one possibility, anyway. He could've gone in there and attempted to get to the bottom of things right now, but even bold Meg would want him to err on the side of caution. He backed away from the door. As he made to head outside, he heard slow, deliberate footfalls behind him. He could have run, but his curiosity got the best of him and he turned around.
A frightful form stood there, seven feet tall or more as its head loomed high above. It wore a black cloak or rather seemed to be cloaked in blackness,the dimness making it hard to distinguish an actual garment. A gigantic scythe more than enough to bisect a human body towered menacingly in its grip, and its face appeared to be a grinning skull—a mask most likely, but Patrick's skin crawled with how realistic it looked, its edges seeming to meld into black flesh behind it. "You seek to hunt me?" it asked in that astonishingly deep voice. "Brave of you, but it can only lead to your end."
He pulled the poleaxe from his back, a heavy weapon in its own right though it didn't quite match the scythe's size. "Don't think you can cow me! You may be huge, but you're just a man, and I've faced much bigger than you before."
"Oh, but am I a man? I am the Grin, and death itself."
"I appreciate you shortening the moniker we gave you for ease of use, but you're definitely a man. Didn't Gwen just call you her brother?"
The Grin fell briefly silent. "If that's what you believe, ready your arms and see if you can kill death."
They sprang at one another, weapons lashing forth. They met in a loud clash, but it was Patrick who stumbled back at the impact. The masked man felt strong, rivaling the strongest humans he'd crossed blades with. He wondered if anybody had heard something, but other than Gwen, few enough tread close to this building that the chance remained small. Not that he minded; now that his warrior spirit was ignited, he had the desire to take down this boastful killer himself.
"You may have the power advantage, but don't think that'll amount to much. As a member of the Free Fangs, I've fought beings you could hardly imagine let alone stand against." They traded more blows, the Grin standing in place like a stone wall while warding off his varied attacks. A scythe should be cumbersome in battle, but somehow his opponent wielded it with speed and grace. Was it skill, or something off about his arms that suited using it as a weapon? They seemed to have unnatural flexibility from the way they bent past normal angles, if Patrick's eyes didn't deceive him... He parried several heavy strokes that had him reeling but then grazed the front of the Grin's cloak with a counter that made the latter step back. He chased after the purported reaper, battering at his guard which wavered. "Death can't be killed, huh? If that's the case why don't you stand your ground and let me hit you instead of defending?"
"You do not seem flustered by my peculiarities. I must concede that to be the mark of a seasoned warrior."
Patrick ducked a sweeping scythe, staggered the Grin with an upward pole strike to the skull mask and smiled. "You have the wisdom to compliment me? Then if you concede your inferiority, best also to be wise enough to surrender. Otherwise, I can't guarantee the life of a hostile murderer."
"You are indeed formidable. But do you think I don't know you? Your bravado is a facade to hide the scared little boy underneath. Deep down you're the still the hapless child your father forced to fight, and face every battle with terror of death."
He recoiled. Everyone sane had at least some fear of dying in pitched combat he was sure, but he thought he'd learned to push it aside better than most. It was the rest of his foe's speech that shocked him. "How the hell do you know about my past, who are you?!"
"Pat... I am your father."
He knew it wasn't true, but the combination of the Grin's inexplicable knowledge and mocking attitude fired his temper. He rushed the shadowy monster, striking faster at him yet having less success than before. Did he grow predictable in his rage? He tried to rein himself in, slowing his assault in favor of a steady offense while looking for good opportunities. "No you aren't, he's long dead and you can't fool me!"
"Of course. But how does it feel that you couldn't save yourself from him, and had to have him killed by your young friends despite thinking you're so strong?"
Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring them. "I was just a kid, is it really surprising I couldn't free myself... Meg slew my father and saved me, but I've grown up since then! I'm strong now, a warrior, Meg even calls me her eq-" He blinked to clear his vision only to see the scythe flash down. Patrick jumped back, yet knew he hadn't been quick enough when a bright pain ran down his front. He looked to find himself gashed open from shoulder to hip, blood rapidly soaking his attire. While the wound might not be deep enough to be fatal, dizziness assailed him at the pain and shock from such a large injury. He still wanted to fight, raising his poleaxe before him while the giant stared him down, but then found it dipping in his hands as a wave of weakness hit. Despite his pride, he knew he stood little chance of winning in this state, and his life proved of more value to him. He threw his weapon at the Grin, a momentary distraction as the latter deflected it. Grimacing in anguish, he turned and fled.
#
Having worked up a good sweat sparring, Rupert exhaled and stepped back after a last frenetic exchange with Charlene. "Ready for your turn with each other?" he asked her and Peggy.
"May the best woman win," Peggy replied teasingly, twirling her staff. Her nonchalant demeanor notwithstanding, she had actually been at a disadvantage against Charlene most of the time thus far, although that came with the usual caveats.
Before the girls could engage, heavy steps sounded from the entrance as a person lurched into the dance room and collapsed facedown. Rupert ran to him and rolled him over to see it was Patrick, bleeding heavily. "F-found him," he sputtered, then his head lolled sideways as he passed out.
"Damn," Charlene breathed as she got sight of the massive wound crossing his torso, "what did this to him?"
Rupert gritted his teeth. "I can only imagine it must be-"
A tall thing strode through the door. It was a creature out of nightmare, a skull-faced reaper that filled the portal as a cloak of blackness undulated around it. "What on earth is that?" Charlene asked in a small voice.
"It must be the Grin Reaper, and I wonder how he chased Pat all the way here without anyone stopping him." Peggy dropped her staff and retrieved the small "wand" from her pouch. "I guess we'll just have to take care of him. Lolipop Full Scale!" It glowed and magically expanded, coming to fill her hands in giant mace form.
Charlene stood beside her, brandishing her spear. "Right. Let's send this collector of souls back to hell!"
"I'm fairly sure it's a man in a mask," Rupert reluctantly pointed out, as it was hard to say fo
r sure given its inhuman appearance.
Its voice, deep as the abyss, flowed from an unmoving mouth. "You are free to think that of the Grin, until you taste the cold bite of death."
"You're just a man," Charlene repeated as to give herself courage, "just a man!" She advanced on him with Peggy in a double pronged attack. He blocked a spear thrust, sucked in his stomach to narrowly avoid Peggy's mace, then jumped away from her forward-stepping backswing. Rupert did his best to hold Patrick's long wound closed to slow the blood loss. He would've tried to stitch it up quickly if he had needle and thread, but didn't carry those around with him. Even then, he'd hesitate to join in for fear of going too far. Despite his foul deeds, the Grin was likely a student here. If he killed a student it might be bad for him regardless of circumstances, having the reputation he did. Hopefully the girls could handle it themselves, and the racket should attract some guards sooner than later. It looked pretty good so far as Peggy doubled the reaper over with a kick to the midsection and Peggy whipped her spear at his head. The pointed crossbar might have skewered his brain if he didn't fall aside, rolling out of the way.
He drove both girls back with a broad swipe of the scythe. "Charlene Alexis Veronica James Lyonesse," he said. "You claimed to oppose violence, yet so quickly join the side of your enemies?"
Peggy asked, "She has four first names?"
