clever-sadist.com

12.37p.m.

 

            I draw a very rough rectangle in the dirt floor of the barn, “We have a wide area to cover but I’ve kept each of you for several reasons. “Gabby, Relter, you two will help with the defense of the area but every third day one of you will enter the city to get me an update on the situation.”

            “Get a bit of the action on that budget o’ Nods, eh?” Relter laughs and nudges the short blond girl next to him. She looks less than amused at the joke and Relter’s smile fails and fades away, Gabby doesn’t take well to innuendo.

            Amm shakes her head, looking at the drawing on the floor.

            “In the meantime though, Draven,” and I look up into his dark, handsome face, the slight hint of a smile that never seems to leave and he meets my eyes, waiting, “take Gabby and the two of you pick out plots for watches to secure the area.” Draven winks at Gabby and she blushes and looks away.

            “Amm, Relter, and I will work on the inside of the barn. When you’ve finished finding our watch points, the two of you come back to indicate them on my horrible little drawing here.” I point at the rectangle on the floor.  I make some rough squiggly lines to the left of the barn figure and then a long curving figure down the middle of them.

            “That’s roughly where you’ll find the river, so make sure our watch points aren’t visible for passing boats and ferries.”

            “Surely, Boss,” Draven drawls and offers his arm to Gabby which she accepts and they stroll away.

            “Harry, Larry, you know the deal, anything that you can turn to our advantage in the worst case scenario, do it. If it can explode or catch fire, I want it ready to do so if we’re cornered.”

            “Ach, that’s a sure thing thar, Boss. We likes blowin’ things up.”

            “Har har, likes it a shade much, says them Judges.”

            Harry and Larry chuckle identically, their hair in ragged patches all over them, having burned or blown most of it off at some point.  The pair step away a few feet and start gesturing animatedly in what appears to be scenes of destructive explosions and I swallow my worry and move on.

            “And then there were three.  Relter, let’s get up to the loft and make us a nice fat hole.”

 

1.22p.m.

 

            “Not the work of a master architect, Boss, but I think it looks good on the hole,” Relter sniggers and winks at Amm who smiles with good grace.

            “It’ll do.” The hole in the roof is quite large enough to allow all but maybe Partum to pass through it and onto the roof.  Relter very deliberately dips one in of the tin we have removed into the high side of the hole and pushes the other end out onto the roof.

            Relter pushes it a bit, seeing if the tin is secure, “That should keep out most o’ the rain, I think.”

            “If it doesn’t, I vote you sleep up here, Rel.”

            Relter grins, “As long as I have something to keep me nice and warm, lass.”

            “I’m sure we’ll have to buy some livestock sooner or later, Rel.  You prefer sheep or pig?” Amm counters with a wicked grin in my direction.

            I’m chuckling and Relter sniggers, “Boss, you sure got a live one.”

            “Draven and Gabby back, Boss,” Draven’s smooth soprano drifts up from below.

            Amm leans over the edge of the loft while Relter starts down the ladder. She leans close to me, draping her arms around my neck and whispers with her lips touching my ear.  As her words tickle my neck I want to kiss her and find a dark corner, “Looks like they did more than find watch points, maybe we should go double check them?” A swift, teasing kiss and she flits away and down the stairs.

            Cold shivers run down my spine and I count to five before following.

            I see what Amm was talking about right away, Gabby is flushed and smiling, her hair healthily bushy and unkempt.  Draven shows no outward signs of the forest adventure he’s had and points at the square on the ground.

            “So, slightly north east we’ve found a perfect spot, armed with a crossbow the watch here could easily deplete the numbers of attackers after giving the barn a warning shot.” A little star symbol was in the area he indicated with a small arrow drawn above it. “There really isn’t any reason to watch the riverside of the barn as there is a twenty feet sheer drop onto rocks for at least a mile in either direction.” He drew a curving line that dropped southward according to the sketch.

            “The south side has a good view of the river but is well covered in foliage right here,” drawing another star to the south of the barn, close to the river, “and east a ways right here. That leaves us with a considerable gap north side, to the west of the first watch point. In a way, this is overcome as the first point has a very nice view of the flat farmland in that direction,” his eyes betrayed him, glancing at Gabby as he said this. In Gabby’s favor, her blush did not deepen.

            “Also a gap between the east and north point, which they could cover between themselves or to solve both of these problems, use the barn as the last point and watch the farmland gap and the eastern gap.”

            I nod and I am very conscious of the hand Amm has put on my back to steady her as we lean over the drawing.

            “Sounds like the beginnings of a plan, Draven, thank you, you will please take first watch on the barn tonight to test your theory.  Relter, you will visit town tonight and acquire us a crossbow. If you can do this where Johnston has set up shop that would be nice but if he has not had time to do this yet, get the best you can, then you will take first watch at the north point.”

            “Yeah, Boss, maybe I’ll find the view as good as some.” The twinkle in his eyes was almost cruel.

            “Go ahead into town, here’s some money, no liquor. I think the twins are a bit north of here, send them back if you will.” Money exchanged, Relter headed out whistling a lilting tune.

            I sigh softly, dealing with murderers and thieves on a daily basis and controlling their base instincts is a wearing activity. “Gabby, you’ll take south side point tonight and I will take east side.  Draven, will you get us some functioning bolt holes from the loft, Gabby, could you help him please?”

            “Happily,” Gabby almost purred; her features pretty in the light of her soft sexual glow.

            The pair trundled up the ladder and was lost to soft murmuring. I was left with a few minutes to embrace Amm and she stroked the back of my neck. Wishing I could find time to be alone with her a hardy, “Har har har” preceded the return of the twins.

            “Yar, Boss. What gives? We gots some good jokes in the works for thems that want ter get at us,” Larry says, I know this because he has two fingers missing from his right hand, the identifying mark of an explosion gone badly in our first year.

            “Sounds great, guys: do either of you remember the hedge that is in a bend in the road coming out of the south gate?  You may have seen it on your way here.”

            Larry nods and Harry puts a finger in the air, “Southy hedges, yar, purdy deep if you follow ‘em in, them are. What gives?”

            “Make them deadly. That’s your job tonight. I want the ability to make that hedge sing in a pinch.”

            Both of their faces alight in imaginings and Harry nods vigorously as Larry dry washes his hands. “Harry an’ me will do it right up, we will, Boss.”

            “Off you go then,” and they disappear almost giddily.

            Amm watches them go and speaks aloud without looking at me, “That hedge…”

            “Will serve the purpose of saving us once again if things go bad, by and large,” I finish her thought with my own.

            “So I am stuck in the barn alone, being babied while the others take a watch and the danger of gathering information?”

            “No,” I say slowly, picking words out, “I thought you might like to be with me tonight at the east watch. The next two days will be our easiest, on the third Flanders will be on their side and we’ll begin the game in earnest.”

            Half expecting her to smile she disappoints me, turning to look me in the eye and I feel as if a Judge is staring into the depths of my soul.

            In a small voice, she speaks and I have to lean toward her to catch everything she says, “You can’t let them die for me, Hank.”

            “Amm, we’ve been through this…”

            “No, Hank, I’m a 20, fine. But there are 19 others and I can’t live being the reason they all die.”

            She was serious, as serious as I’ve ever seen her when she wasn’t killing or fucking.

            “They know what they got into… No, Amm, let me talk. We are the 20 and we’re all alike and need to rely on each other. Don’t think that if you gave yourself over any of us would be safe at this point, there are criminals and killers abroad like never before- No, don’t blame yourself, they put you in that situation.”

            Amm grits her teeth in an angry grin, her eyes flashing angrily, “It’s only because I’m a monster and a freak that I was put in that position!”

            “And you asked for it, did you?” my voice is raising and I can’t stop it. “You sat down one day and said, please, please make me turn into a killing machine every night so that my life is exciting?  That’s what happened, huh?” I’m virtually shouting now.

            Stricken and wordless Amm looks at me in horror and looks sickened, “I didn’t ask for it for that reason, no.”

            Now I stand dumbfounded, taken aback.  There are things she and I have never spoken of and we were close to treading those paths.

            Slowly words spill from me, “Amm, no…”

            “Yes, Hank, I asked.  I was scared, alone and lost and I asked for it. I asked to be scarier than the things I was scared of.  My mother had died and I didn’t know where my next meal was coming from and suddenly I could take care of myself and no one looked twice at me.  I couldn’t remember my nights a lot of the time but the days were a lot nicer to me.”

            “It felt good, not being afraid.” Her words crack and though she has turned from me I see her shake with the sobs she withholds.

            “Amm…” I don’t know what to offer her.  I’m scared to touch her, worried that I should be touching her, and completely at a loss.

            “No! Don’t let them die for me!” As she whips around I feel the breeze rush past me and the sudden hush of the nature sounds and she is a different woman that turns to face me.

            Her chest heaves and the unnatural beauty is an irresistible aura, her scent clings to me and I can taste it on the tip of my tongue but my words are locked inside my mouth. The tears she could not blink away are black upon her pale face and still running down to her mouth.

            A purely guttural sound rumbles in her throat and she looks at me with wide eyes and I have no idea what my expression looks like, I am so torn between lust and revulsion.

            She is a blur as she runs out of the barn and disappears into the heavily shadowed forest.

Flanders is overseeing the last of the minute changes I’ve made to the defense system of the large barn we’ve made our head quarters. One of Lister’s better ideas, the 20 had pooled money somewhat grudgingly and purchased this land less than a year ago rather quietly from a widow who had been in her last years.

            It serves its purpose, we are definitely squared away.

            “Flanders, time!”

            “Four minutes shy of noon, Boss!” comes Flanders voice muffled by the stalls on the north side of the barn.

 

11.56a.m.

 

            I wink conspiratorially at Amm, “Keeps him on his toes.” She chuckles softly, her features back in alignment with her daytime persona.  I want to ask her what happened at 3a.m. last night but haven’t the heart to break our good mood.

            My shoulder is still tight when I move but I’m feeling better than I have in days, what with loss of blood and police shooting at me.

            Flanders strolls back into the main area in the barn, an open space of about fifteen hundred square feet.

            “You about ready, Boss?”

            He turns and whistles keenly in answer to my nod and tired people groan and roll over in whatever corner or stool or stall they’ve managed to fall asleep in.  Partum joins us almost immediately, sometimes I wonder if he actually sleeps.

            Partum is a tower that everyone is crouching or standing about, most bleary eyed and grumbling.

            “First things first,” I say and feeling idiotic.  I know I’m the Boss but I feel like I talk to my closest friends and so I rush on, “We need visibility all over the city.  Johnston, set up shop somewhere in the first quarter, near north gate.  Lister, you’ll watch his back.” Both nodded and waited for him to go on.  “I mean now.”

            Lister blinked rapidly and opened his mouth to spew a bile retort but Johnston caught his attention and nodded toward the large doors.  I watch them depart with their few belongings and turn my focus back to the gathered 20.

            “Partum and Shank, find some grunt work in the third quarter, west side.  Stay visible and ask few questions, chum up with anyone you can.  Anyone you can stomach, Shank.  We’ll be checking in.”  With a quick incline of his head, Partum turned and lumbered out the door and Shank followed not a minute later, secreting daggers and knives around her person.

            “Nod,” I begin.

            “The usual, rent a penthouse on in the second quarter, high side? Room service and a budget to make a Judge cry, am I right?” There was a sparkle in Nod’s eye; there always is when he is elbowing me. His weasel-like, pointed face is split in an easy smile.

            I smile back at him, “Stables, second quarter, south side, and try not to spend up that budget too fast.”

            He chuckles and heads out the doors.

            “Beebee, Alton,” I shift to my left to look at them both, scarred and constantly angry looking, whether they actually were or it was just the effect of broken noses and missing bits of ear, it was hard to tell.  “I need you two to get to north of the city and make an area look as if it was home to the 20.  Here’s some money, set up tents, watch stands, anything you can come up with to look as if we’re there.”

            “Reckon we can match that, Boss. This considerin mine an’ Alton’s R&R?” Beebee chuckles like a cheese grater and limps off toward the doors, her husband Alton tucking away the gold for their efforts.

            Shaking my head with a smile, “Twitch, you…”

            “Shucks, Boss,” Twitch interrupts with a slur though I’m sure he’s sober, “just gimme some pocket moneys and I’ll have you right up informationed as you can get. I know my specialty and it’s at the bottom of a tankard.”

            Amm giggles softly; she has a soft spot for Twitch because he tells lewd and disgusting stories with less than moral endings.

            “Yes, Twitch, just keep switching bars and pubs. We’ll find you.  And watch out for the others as they may need to make contact with you if we move.”

            “Course,” he says and accepts the gold from my hand with no greed and lumbers off, looking four sheets to the wind already.

            “Vern, pick one of your associates in the fourth quarter, north gate and make it as obvious as you can that you aren’t with the 20.” The pretty girl stands up and smiles at me wickedly, her hand on her well shaped waist and I feel Amm tense. “And let’s remember what we’re out there for, Vern, keep in contact with Twitch.”

            Vern winks at me lazily and holds out her hand, “What, Hank, no money for me?”

            I put a reassuring hand on Amm’s knee and I can almost hear a growl in her throat, “We both know you’ll have more than enough money where ever you choose to go.”

            Laughing musically, Vern flutters her eyelashes and leaves the barn, swaying her hips.

            Amm trembles and puts her hand over mine where it rests on her knee, “That cheap little piece of…” and trails off.

            “Blitz. Blitz! BLITZ!” he turns, prying his eyes off the swaying form of Vern disappearing in the distance.

            “Yar, Boss.”

            “Second quarter, east gate, try to find something out of the way and contact Twitch as soon as possible. Keep your head down.”

            Blitz nods and huffs his way out the door and I have a feeling he’s well on his way to catching up to Vern. No matter how much I try to separate infatuations and the job, 20 people in close contact breed feelings.

            I look at Amm and she smiles sweetly. This is exactly what I mean.

            “And then there were 10.” I say thoughtfully, taking stock of those left in the huddle. “Just one more thing and we can get on with the defense plans of head quarters.”

            I look to my second in command.

            “Flanders.”

            “Sir.” He answers dutifully, the reason he is second in command. His death sentence had been questioned often by the 20 and yet no one, including myself, knows the truth about the crime he had purportedly committed.

            “You’re going to turn yourself in, Flanders.”

            Amm gasped and Flanders turned stiffly to look at me, his eyes wide in surprise. Flanders opened his mouth and shut it several times.

            Finally he reached his conclusion, “But Boss, the…”

            “You will enter through the North gate, lay low and take lodging at the sleaziest inn you can find, I suggest fourth quarter slum.  Wait-“

            “Boss, seriously, there are..” Flanders cuts in.

            I continue, “For three days! Then you will hand yourself in to the High Judge, he already knows you.  I believe you know him as well.”

            He is quiet now, his eyes narrowed at me.

            “Simms, you will join Flanders into the city and take a room at the same inn.  When Flanders turncoats, he is going to give up your location, please don’t go quietly but don’t get yourself killed.  That clear, Simms?”

            The short man, his face red and his shaggy yellow mane spiked in every direction huffs, “Sure, Boss. But why-“

            “Damn it.  I need information from everywhere and some of the best places are from criminals. The Sanctum is down, you won’t be put there but hopefully you can get inside and get some word of what’s happening in a holding cell and Flanders, being a turncoat and informer, can relay that information via Twitch.”

            Simms nods without further argument and gathers his vest from a stall in the corner and stands at the doors.  Flanders hasn’t moved and still looks at me through the slits that are his eyes.

            “No arguments, Flanders. If the time comes when you have to reveal a location of camp, confess the northern encampment that Beebee and Alton will be faking. I will get more word to you as soon as possible. Now go.” I keep my eyes fastened on his and for several minutes I hope he will suggest another tactic but in the end he averts his eyes and slouches out of the barn without a look back or to acknowledge Simms.

            A beckon to the remaining 20 and the ragged circle closes ranks around me and I begin, “Now…”

You wanna see a donkey show?

PLATYPUS, I choose you!!

Quick Platy, use your duck bill attack!

Footsteps fading down the hall as the door swings shut on spring controlled hinges and I can hear raised voices.

            “Boss!  Boss!  Are you up, they’re taking Amm!” it’s Partum, the huge bear of a man who could hold a baby in his enormous hands with the utmost care and an hour later tear a man’s arm from its socket.  I can hear the nervous edge to his voice and Flanders is trying to calm him.  “They’re taking her, boss!”

            Partum’s entry is like a watching the door birth a full grown man, he ducks low and squeezes through the frame sideways.  Once inside his bald head comes close to the ceiling but he no longer ducks.

            “Boss,” his baritone voice rumbles over me. “They took her; Flanders wouldn’t let me stop them. Ferns took her.” His eyes are filmed in a watery sheen.

            “I know, Partum. We’ll get her back, stopping Ferns wouldn’t have helped anything.”

            Flanders maneuvers into the room past Partum and Shank and Lister push their way in as well.  Lister and Shank stand together emphasizing the ‘two sides of a coin’ personalities they have: Lister with his tightrope suicidal tendencies often rushing into danger hoping for the worst, and Shank, her boyish looks offsetting her wildfire evil temper willing to spark at any minute.

            Lister looks at my arm and smiles thin lipped. “I think I can catch them before they reach the Sanctum. I’m betting I can drop all of his bodyguards before Ferns pisses his pants.”

            “No,” I affirm as best I can in my weak condition to the Lister’s rolling eyes. “Flanders, go ahead of us and find the First Judge.”

            “Boss?”

            “You heard me. Go now and when I’m dressed I’ll be on my way.”

            I push myself up on my good arm and swing my legs off the bed.  My legs make odd shadows on the floor and the shadows grow wider, blacking out the details of the room and I feel hands on my chest and head –

 

8.48p.m.

 

            I can feel my heartbeat in my arm.  The bandages are an unhealthy bruised color; I tore my cuts open again when I fell.  A nurse wearing white from head to toe, her hair blue with age and the soft eyes of a mother, feeds me chicken soup while telling me how much stronger it will make me.

            I would give up a year’s pay to scratch my arm. Gritting my teeth against both the itching and the continuous drone of the nurse, I remain seated and doted on as I wait impatiently for Flanders to return with the First Judge.

            Sighing, I accept another spoon of watery chicken soup and think of how long the string is that I have just pulled.  This particular favor was very, very old indeed and though probably remembered, it might not be remembered it good light.

            Rather than dwell on the specifics I continue to swallow and wait. The 20, swarming just outside the room and randomly entering to drop reports, were much more graceful in their patience but they were also able to stand on their own.

            From what I’ve been able to gather from the reports of the 20 thus far, Amm purportedly killed at least seven people -4 men, 2 women, and a street urchin- before picking up my bleeding, unconscious body and carrying me to the closest hospital. From there we were both transported to Squad medical where I am now gathering reports.

            No reports were made of the blond girl who had fought with Amm and from four reports she was not the street urchin killed at the scene.  The nurse begins another rendition of how strong I will be and I sigh into my next spoon of soup.

            Finally the rustle and scuffle of feet in the corridor where most of the 20 appear to be relaxing announce the arrival of the First Judge.  From my viewpoint it seems that only Partum has gotten to his feet out of respect to the First Judge – I frown pointedly at no one in particular, I am going to have to knock heads when I get out of my chair.  Most of the 20 sag against walls or sit cross-legged on the floor in midst of jaunty conversation but to the trained eye, any of the 20 were ready in a moment’s notice to kill any intruder that attempts to reach my room, including the First Judge and his two Magister bodyguards, should the need arise.

            The First Judge is not a large man but the robes fill the doorway as he enters.  He frowns momentarily before concluding my inability to stand but my nurse curtsies in my stead.

            “Leave us, please,” the Judge intones quietly, almost in a whisper and the nurse nods and retrieves her spoon and bowl before dodging through the feet and empty smiles of the 20 in the corridor.

            If the Judge signals his guards I do not see it but the Magister’s file out and take up a position on either side of the portal and the First Judge swings the heavy wooden door closed.

            “You sure know how to call in a favor, Hank. I’ll be dodging rumors for the next fortnight.”

            “Yeah, thanks for coming so soon, I know you’re busy,” I say, flashing a forced smile.

            “Of course, whatever I can do. Does this concern the judgment on the young lady this afternoon?  I hear it was a very quick decision based on the evidence of multiple murders,” his robes rock like a pendulum as the Judge walks the room.

            I nod and swallow my worry and meet the Judges eyes, “Stephen, I would stand on the edge and take oath that those deaths were not by her hand.”

            The Judge’s brow furrows and he cocks his head slightly in a canine expression of confusion, “Stand on the edge, Hank?”

            I nod again and explain, “When we swore in the 20 each stood on the edge of the executioner’s blade. Except for me, had any of them refused to join the 20, a swift death on a block was their fate.”

            Lips pressed into a thin line, the Judge’s silence is reply enough. Then he nods, his brown skin shining in the bright light of the candle enhancer. “I don’t know if I can get her out, Hank.”

            “Don’t. I need to get in.”

            “You want in? There is no telling how many convicts you and your 20 have put in the Sanctum, they would be thirsty for your blood.”

            “Stephen, you have no idea what Amm is capable of and if I don’t go in there after her… Ferns doesn’t realize what he’s caged.” I meet his eyes once more and I feel the searching, exposed feeling that is inherent with the ability of the Judges.

            After what feels like several minutes, the elusive feeling dissipates and the Judge squares his shoulders and opens the heavy door.

            Over his shoulder, “Tell your men that we’ll be taking the Judges carriage.” And the Magister guards fall in to either side of him as he strides into the hallway.

 

9.26p.m.

 

            Even for a carriage the ride was smooth and the clip-clop of the horses gait was soothing and muffled outside the padded carriage doors.  Flanders knee bounces against mine to my left and the Judge sits quietly, his single guard looking menacing even while sitting.  Partum, Lister and Shank ride the bumper ledge outside and out of sight.

            Just as well, Lister and Shank had obvious issues with authority and there were few higher authorities than the First Judge himself.

            I sit with my head against the padded window that is curtained with a thick rug-like fabric.  Finally, Stephen, the Judge, breaks the edgy silence that shrouds our trek to the Sanctum of Guilt.

            “Pardon, “the Judge begins, speaking to Flanders, “but where do I recognize you…”

            “Flanders, your Honor.  You read me and found me guilty of the murder of a street urchin and four bar-hands. The sentence was death but the 20 saved me from the chop.”

            Stephen’s forehead wrinkles and his brow raises and he glances at me briefly.  He sits back quietly and folds his hands in his lap.

            Continuing without prompt, Flanders says, “And I was guilty, your Honor, you read me correctly. I didn’t want to kill that kid, but when the bar-hands jumped me the little rat tried to gut me from behind. Sometimes it’s hard to judge when you didn’t see what a man’s choices were.”

            Silence stretches. The Magister bodyguard looks most uncomfortable, unsure whether or not to take offense to Flanders’ comment.

            “Perhaps you are more right than you know, Mr. Flanders,” the First Judge speaks softly, the quickness of his words almost harsh in its suddenness.

            Flanders smiles and I raise my head, my instincts screaming something I can’t quite grasp.

            “Flanders, it’s quiet.”

            “Yes, sir, it is.”

            “No, it’s absolutely quiet, the larks do not sing, the street talk has hushed. Flanders…”  It happens every night, as if the air is being vacuumed from the sky. Even with the thick curtains and heavy padding the air whispers past my skin like a heavy breeze and I know of the smoke before I smell it.

            “Let me out, your Honor.  You need to turn back; this is not where you need to be. Come on, Flanders.”

            The First Judge begins to raise questions and I turn back to him as Flanders opens the carriage door and the driver slows to a stop. “Stephen, Ferns doesn’t know what he’s done. I have to get up there and you have to get back to the Courts or away from here, at least.”

            A black cloud is now blotting out the stars and the acrid smell of smoke hangs heavy in the air.  I lift myself slowly, wary of my waning strength and it is good to have the ground under my feet again.

            Very seriously, the First Judge searches my eyes and his gift delves deep within me and then, “On the edge?”

            I nod and smile grimly, “On the edge.”

 

9.40p.m.

Run

Hollowed hero

Disgraced

Debunked

Shamed

Oh filthy following such

A hero has

Which loves to see a hero

Triumph but,

Waits to see a hero fall.

Place your morals on a pillar

And take it inside

You filthy media whore

Evil reigns beneath you

So fight the good fight no

More

when they told me I couldn’t do it. Killed the whole lot where they stood.

Funny thing, turns out I really couldn’t do it.

Being an asshole just means you deal in a lot of shit.

Seconds creep like minutes and I can see the details of the jewelry stall crisply as my legs refuse to gain speed. The stall leans precariously on itself and the bottoms of the counter have begun to splinter with the pressure Amm has pressed on it. Amm’s black tipped hair is spread wide like a cat’s tail and I can make out single strands and the angry guttural nature of her growl.

            I know her teeth are bare and she is beyond the edge of control but every instinct in me screams that if I can reach her I can help her.

            Time sways back into motion, Amm’s claw-like hand shoots up and falls with quick efficiency at the young girl’s head.

            Thinking back to the night before and the many other times I’ve seen her destroy a person with her inhumanly fast attacks I brace myself for the spray of blood and the screams of the crowd.

            My vision swims as the girl dodges her head to the side and hisses, spittle splashing her lips and sun darkened cheeks.  The girl jackknifes and kicks Amm in the chest, launching her several feet in the air and into the next stall from which the lady who makes beads into art has already fled.  Like a flash the girl is on all fours and I see what Amm had already seen.

            The girl is almost a golden blond and her eyes are shot with red veins and cold steel grey eyes. She is boyishly skinny and her clothes are striped with repair stitches but are otherwise a rather bright blue and currently ripped at the collar.

            I finally close on the altercation and pull my daggers from their hidden sheaths and roll beneath the flying wreckage and beads.  Amm is already on her feet and she crushes the rest of the wood of the bead stall when she jumps to the solid stone ground of the market square.

            And roars - and the roar is like nothing I’ve ever heard in its anger and pure animalism.  The birds spying for dropped food and crumbs all take to flight and I can hear nothing but the ring of her challenge.

            The young girl lunges for Amm, screeching her answer as I can only imagine a banshee would shriek - Amm ducks to accept the attack and the air is filled with hissing and inhuman growling when the two grapple.  I move in, my daggers crossed to protect my face.  Most of the blows they land would tear asunder or severely wound a normal person but the attacks that are deflected meet wood or ground and the wood is destroyed on contact and large rents stretch in an odd snowflake pattern around them in the stone.

            Seeing a brief opening I slash down, aiming for the tender neck below golden hair.  I know my mistake when the girl’s eyes meet my own and she spins to catch my dagger arm in a steel grip.

            Howling in rage Amm leaps on the girl from behind and lands a head butt to the base of her neck. The girl loses her grip but leaves long jagged cuts in my arm and I know my life blood is spilling onto the flagstones and I stagger, moving away from the fight that continues without relief.  My knee hits a stone bench and sweeps the balance from under me but I catch myself against the tidy brick wall of a horticulture median.

            Darkness creeps into my vision and I lose consciousness looking at a dead red bird with stripes along its back.

            I think it may be a cardinal…

 

            I blink, my eyes adjusting to the continuously flickering light of the mirrored candle enhancer. Turning my head to the left I can see a water-clock and continue blinking until the hands of the clock face stop blurring and become crisp and clear.

 

5.47p.m.

 

            She whispers and I turn away from the clock – she’s sitting in a chair in the shadows beneath the candle and I can’t make out her features.

            But I’d know Amm’s voice anywhere.

            “What, sugar?”

            “I said I’m glad you’re awake. They told me you had lost enough blood that you may not recover, I –“ she paused and I saw her fidget before squaring her shoulders, “I couldn’t figure out what I was going to do if you…”

            “No worries, where are we?”

            “Squad medical facility in the specialist wing and the rest of the 20 are waiting very impatiently down the hall.”

            I knew the 20 would be close. Relying on one another in the night time streets bonded people together and we were like family now after two years saving each other’s lives. “You can let them know I’m awake,” I forced a smile.

            Amm’s shadow nodded and she stood to the left of the candle and I caught a glimpse of broken finger nails and bloodied hands.  She walked crisply to the wooden door; light peeking in through the rectangular slit illuminating bloody streaks etched on her face and neck.

            “Amm,” I know I shouldn’t ask.  We have worked out well by not sharing the event of her night time persona. She pauses at the door, her chin resting against her chest; her hand resting on the handle of the door.

            “Tell me…” I’m crossing lines but so did her night time persona, entering the day time streets.

            Gulping, Amm turns and kneels next to me and I see the scale of the damage.

            “I’m sorry,” her tears follow the rents in her cheeks and travel in forlorn rivers down her lips.  She bites back a sob causing her to cough raggedly.

            Now her daytime eyes look at me with a sadness that makes my heart ache and bulge into my throat.  Even as I watch the rents in her face and neck are growing shallower and bridging the gap in the flesh, healing before my eyes.  I try not to imagine how deep the cuts were when she had left the market.

            “How did it happen?” I know I sound stupid, worrying about the confrontation in the market while I sit here trying to produce enough blood to stay alive.

            “They told me I would never be afraid again.” Her eyes are haunted and in her pupils I can almost see the ghosts of the past flitting in her thoughts. “Never again, but that girl, she was just there suddenly and I felt her coming out and could not stop her.  She has never done that before.  Not during the day.  Every night at 3a.m. but not in the day,” and then I understood her broken talk.  Only one thing ever happened at 3a.m every night.

            My mind reels in my weakened state and it must tell on my face because Amm is on her feet now and leaning over me.  She holds my face so softly for all the death that they can cause and she kisses my forehead slowly and I feel her tears drip onto my head.

            The door opens with a soft click and Amm turns to the shuffling of feet expecting some of the 20 but what we see instead is Ferns with his caldera of bulky police.  He surveys us coldly and sneers in the light of the candle enhancer.

            “Ante Meridiem, you are hereby under arrest for the murder of several citizens in the Freeman Market. You have the right to defense in the Courts of the Justice-born.  Until such a time as your trial, you will be held accountable for the charges in the Sanctum of Guilt: starting now.”

            He waves to his companions who do not look nearly so smug or sure when they approach Amm with her bloody clothing and blood covered hands, her cheeks healing. But Amm bows her head and looks to me with tears sparkling in her eyes.

            “I’m sorry,” she says again.

            “No, Amm. I’ll get you out of there. You’re a 20.”

            Ferns wears a slender half smile and he looks at me from the safety of the door, “Not likely, Flossen. It’ll be a quick trial.”

 

6.02p.m.

These suspenders are the only thing keeping my life together.