by KJ Harlow
“Agatha, where are we?” Tracy asked, looking around. I opened my eyes; the cloud of birds we had startled with our arrival were flying further and further away, taking their birdsong with them.
Agatha stood up and dusted off her habit. It didn’t take her long to realize where we were. “Hyde Park.” she said, smiling fondly. I followed her line of vision. She was looking towards a large lake that sat serenely in the middle of the park. I looked back at her. She had an expression I hadn’t seen before: warmth flowed out from her face, crinkling the corners of her eyes. Her smile was the widest I had ever seen on her. Underneath the warmth, I could sense a layer of sadness blanketing happy memories decades old. For a moment, she wasn’t the sharp-tongued matriarch of the Deliverers but a young, innocent nun who had a penchant for mischief.
Tracy stood a few feet away, staring at Agatha. She closed the distance between them and gently wove her fingers with her’s. Agatha looked at Tracy and smiled at her and together, they looked out at the lake. I smiled to myself; guess I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed coming back up to the Overworld.
We drank in the tranquillity for about 10 minutes before Agatha broke the silence. “Come on,” she sighed, “we have work to do.”
“Agatha,” I said, finally getting to my feet. “Does this place hold significance for you?” She turned to me, her nostalgic smile fading as she nodded. “Does it involve Mortimer?” I was expecting her stinging rebuke. Instead, she looked at me intently.
“Let’s talk about it some other time. Besides,” her voice hardening to its usual nature, “it won’t help us find Mortimer.”
“Yes, and we’ve got some shopping to do too!” Tracy said excitedly. I put my hands on hips and gave her a look.
“While we can’t actually buy anything, I don’t see why we can’t actually try on new clothes.” Agatha said. “And by ‘we’ I mean the two of you. I don’t think people would take too kindly to seeing a Catholic nun trying on denim.” Tracy and I laughed out loud. Maybe this girls’ day out wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.
“You look hot!” Tracy said, eyeing me up and down. I couldn’t believe that I had thought going window shopping might have been a good idea. I didn’t know how many tops I had already tried; I lost count after 12. Tracy seemed to have an unquenchable thirst for giving me new clothes to try.
“Give me that, I’m going to get you the green one. Don’t go anywhere!” Tracy said, grinning wickedly at me. Before I could object, she whisked out from the changing room. I closed the door and locked it. Exhausted, I sat down, cradling my chin in my hands. I thought I was meant to have more energy as a Deliverer. Maybe it only applied to Ridding Conflicted.
My eyes flicked over to my Lucent Gun glinting silver from its holster. My mind took me back to the epic battle I had witnessed between Tor and Stan on a cargo ship in the middle of the ocean. That time, I had tried firing my Lucent Gun to get their attention but so tempestuous was the storm we had sailed into that no one could hear my gun fire.
I wonder what would happen if I were to run out into the middle of Oxford Street now and fire my Lucent Gun. Would the Royal Guard come to apprehend me? Would the Tormented finally come out of hiding? I was itching to kick some Conflicted butt.
“Agatha,” I called. No answer. “Are you there?”
“Yes Rose, I’m here.” Good. She was back from her stroll around the city.
“Did you find anything?”
“No, but I am amazed at one thing,” she said, pausing. “Londoners are still the same, despite how much time has passed.”
“What do you mean?” I heard movement outside my door, then knocking.
“It’s only me,” Agatha said under her breath. I opened the door and she poked her head in. “Londoners are still mean to each other, afraid of social interaction and arrogant as anything.” I smiled wryly at her.
“I guess that says a lot about Mortimer, doesn’t it?” Agatha regarded me for a moment before giving me a half-smile. On impulse, I grabbed her arm and pulled her into the change room, locking the door behind me. It happened so suddenly that she didn’t even get a chance to object.
“What are you–”
“Sorry, I…” I slowly sat down on the stool in the corner, letting my mind catch up. “I don’t know why I did that.” She frowned at me and put her hand on the lock. “Wait, I do know.” Agatha looked at me, waiting for my response. “Look, I know you and I don’t always see eye to eye but you’re not a bad person. I want to get to know you. It might also help us get closer to Ceasing Mortimer.” Agatha had a guarded expression on her face that gave nothing away.
“When I’d come back from my last mission, you were giving me healing balms. You told me how you and Mortimer had some history.” She visibly stiffened hearing this. “What did you mean by that?” Agatha still didn’t move, but her expression had changed. Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something but was interrupted by knocking.
“In a sec, Trace.”
“Ma’am,” A hesitant female voice with a thick Essex accent spoke, “do you need a hand with anything?”
“I’m actually waiting for a friend to bring back a different top.”
“She left five minutes ago.” The sales assistant replied softly. Agatha and I exchanged alarmed looks with each other. Agatha threw open the door, startling the poor sales assistant.
“Sorry, we have to go,” she said, bustling past her towards the door. The girl looked at me and then down at my jacket. She saw the gun poking out. Her eyes widened in fear as I whipped it on.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, leaving the clothes and a started Londoner behind me as I jogged out of the store. I came out onto the road and looked down both sides of the street. There was no sign of either Agatha or Tracy.
“Agatha where are you?” I whispered into my Light Bug.
“Turn left,” she replied almost immediately. I shaded my eyes and saw a nun about 50 yards away, weaving through the crowd. I broke out into a run.
“What’s happened?” I asked.
“Tracy says that she might have seen Matylda.”
“What? Where did you see her?”
“There was a brunette who came in. She looked like a brat wearing her mom’s shades anda floppy sun hat.” Tracy said. It sounded like she was running. “I didn’t get a good look at her face, but she seemed to be the same height at Matylda.”
“How did they know that we were here?” I asked. “There are hundreds of stores on Oxford Street.”
“I don’t know. I’m not even sure it’s her. I just had a prickly feeling when she came into the store.” She stopped running and swore. “Damn it!”
“What’s happened?” Agatha asked.
“The sun hat. It’s here, on the floor.” Tracy said. “The girl’s gone.”
It took me a few minutes to catch up to Tracy and Agatha. Tracy was clutching a wide brimmed yellow sun hat with a cream ribbon around it. She was frowning as I approached.
“Why didn’t you let us know that you had left the store?” I asked.
“I turned my back on her for one second and Matylda was gone. I didn’t want to lose her,” Tracy shot back.
“It doesn’t matter,” Agatha said. “There isn’t much you could have done anyway. If you fired at her in the middle of broad daylight, all hell would have broken loose.”
“I could have kept track of her,” she said, crushing the helpless sun hat in her fist.
“You didn’t even see her face. It might have been someone else.” I said.
“No! I know who I saw. It was her!” She said loudly. We started getting looks from people giving a wide berth around us. A couple of people threw suspicious glances at us while talking on their phones.
“Tracy, stop,” Agatha said firmly, putting her hand on Tracy’s shoulder. “It’s OK. Let’s just continue walking. If it really is her, then she’s already come to find us once. We should let the Tormented find us again.” Tracy exhaled slowly and force
d a tight smile.
We walked continued down the path letting ourselves get absorbed into the crowd of rushing Londoners. Agatha moved effortlessly amongst the people, leading us. Tracy and I trailed her, craning our necks to take in the scenery. I hadn’t gone traveling overseas before; there was simply no budget for it. My aunt kept costs low. All I did was go to school as a kid.
Feeling overwhelmed by the noise, I sat down on a bench. Agatha just happened to look back at that moment. She stopped and motioned to Tracy as they both came back to sit next to me.
“I just need a moment,” I said.
“It’s OK. London can be… a bit too much sometimes.” Agatha said, smiling wryly. I responded by smiling weakly at her. We were outside a park again. The signs pointing to the entrance said ‘Green Park’.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“We are going to see the Queen,” Agatha said matter-of-factly. “By that, I mean we are going to Buckingham Palace.”
“Do you think the Tormented have infiltrated Her Majesty’s quarters?” I said sarcastically. Agatha laughed, catching me off guard.
“Nothing’s impossible, but I highly doubt it.”
“OK,” I said, heaving myself up, “let’s go and have a look then.” After about 10 minutes, we were outside the tall, handsome gates of Buckingham Palace. The Royal Guard stationed outside stood at attention. A group of Japanese tourists was posing next to him, making peace signs. I almost felt like rushing over and shooing them away.
“It’s a beautiful place,” Tracy breathed reverently.
“Mmm,” Agatha responded.
I scanned the front of the palace. Nothing out of place caught my eye. No guns glinting. No blades being brandished. Had Agatha gotten this completely wrong? Were they even in London?
“I don’t see them,” I said, squinting as I looked around the sides of Buckingham Palace, “neither the Tormented nor the Conflicted.”
“Yes, I don’t sense them here either,” Agatha confirmed. For a second I thought of challenging her again. This time, I kept my mouth shut.
We kept walking south, leaving the palace and the parks behind us. A grand structure started looming up ahead. Beautiful, old spires reached up towards the sky. A huge bell in a central turret slowly swung on its axle. Agatha slowed as Tracy and I started walking ahead of her.
“Look!” Tracy said, pointing ahead. A wedding procession was coming out. Black Bentleys were parked proudly outside the church to take in the bride and groom. Tracy’s eyes were shining in delight as she watched the family and friends of the bride and groom throw confetti over the newlyweds.
“That is an amazing church,” I said in awe.
“It’s not a church,” Agatha quietly, “it’s Westminster Cathedral.” I turned around to look back at her. She had stopped walking and was staring at the bride and groom. The groom swept the bride down and planted a kiss on her lips as she squealed in surprise. Cameras clicked furiously capturing the perfect moment as the guests whooped and laughed. A tall chauffeur donning a top hat got out from the first Bentley in the queue. He slowly walked to the passenger side door, paused for a moment then opened the door. He stood off to the side as the groom continued walking his bride down the steps towards the car.
“This is the wedding of my dreams,” Tracy sighed dreamily. Passers-by stopped and took photos of the grand affair, pointing and smiling at the newlyweds. I stood next to Agatha as we watched the couple approach the car. Three girls were holding the bride’s dress train that looked about five yards long. The girl at the back holding the end tripped and fell. Concerned onlookers from both sides approached to help her get back up.
The little girl stood up abruptly and whipped out a pitch black hand gun. She shot both onlookers in the chest then followed it up by shooting the other two girls holding the train in the back. People panicked and scattered as the cathedral descended into chaos. The groom stood in front of his wife, shielding her from the girl with the hand gun.
“Who are you?” He shouted. The girl didn’t give him a chance. With pinpoint accuracy, she blew in his brains from five yards away. He crumpled to the ground. His wife cowered on the ground, pressing herself against the wheel of the Bentley behind her. The little girl walked up to her and planted the barrel of her gun on the bride’s head.
“I’m Matylda – now get to work.” She pulled the trigger and blood sprayed over her white dress. Behind her, the people she had shot had already turned into Conflicted. Their blades reflected the light from the sun that had momentarily broken through the clouds.
“What are you doing just standing there, Mortimer?” Matylda said irritably. “People are getting away!”
The driver took off his top hat and flung it away. He looked down at his fellow Tormented in disgust.
“Watch who you’re talking to,” he growled. He bent down into the Bentley and hauled out a suitcase. He flipped the locks and popped them open. He dropped a hand gun down at the bride twitching at his feet. “Pass the rest of these over to the others, will you?” He said lazily.
In a fluid motion, he drew his Ombre Gun and fired a dozen rounds at on-lookers 50 yards away. Every one of his shots landed as twelve people fell to the ground. He reached into the Bentley and pulled another suitcase out. In a blink, he was standing by his freshly turned Conflicted, tapping his foot as he waited for them to animate.
As this unfolded over the space of a minute, I found my Lucent Gun already drawn. It was humming insistently in my hand, sensing a growing number of Conflicted nearby. Tracy had drawn hers too. She was staring at Mortimer who had started dispatching guns to the dozen new Conflicted.
“Agatha,” I said, looking at the senior Deliverer. Her mouth was agape with horror at what she was witnessing. “Agatha!” She blinked several times before looking at me. “What do we do?”
Mortimer was pointing agitatedly down Victoria Street, the main road outside the cathedral while barking orders to the Conflicted. In unison, they turned and marched away. In front of the cathedral, Matylda was relaying similar orders to the people she had turned.
I looked at Agatha imploringly. I didn’t see the decisive woman I knew. Her gun was still holstered. She seemed unsure of herself. Worst of all, she seemed frightened. Tracy hooked her arm around Agatha’s and dragged her away from the grisly scene. “Come on, Rose!” Tracy said, violently jerking her head in the direction she was heading. “We can’t let the Tormented see us.” I nodded and followed her.
My Lucent Gun seemed to protest in my hand as we hurried away from the source of danger. Gun fire and muted screams rang out in the distance. A single helicopter flew over the cathedral towards the city center, followed by half a dozen more in the space of five minutes. We stood amongst cars that had screeched down the terrace driven by terrified parents. They ran in, tripping over themselves to drag their confused children out of the school near by.
“Agatha,” Tracy said, standing in front of her and shaking her shoulders insistently. “What’s wrong?” Agatha’s face was frozen in a rictus of horror as frightened Londoners tried to escape the chaos. The parents who had come to pick up their children now added their frenzied beeping to the cacophony of noise, each putting their own family’s safety before the others.
“I…” Agatha said, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry…”
“Tracy, I’m going to go and slay some Conflicted,” I said, starting to move back towards the cathedral.
“No,” she said flatly. “This is the first time the Tormented have armed the Conflicted with guns. We don’t know anything about them yet. Have they found a way to create more Ombre Guns? If they have, that makes our chance of survival close to nil. It just takes one of them to land a shot and we’re goners.” She pressed her finger into her ear. “Walter, Tor, Silas. Are you seeing this?”
“Yes. What the hell is going on?” Walter growled.
“I don’t know,” Tracy said. “Agatha’s a bit shaken as well, so we’re going to need back up
.”
“I’m fine,” Agatha said, futilely trying to push Tracy away but to no avail.
Gun shots suddenly pierced the confusion as chaos bled onto the street. Conflicted were gunning down people left, right and center and walking towards us.
“Screw this,” I said as I started moving towards them.
“Rose, stop!” Tracy shouted.
I couldn’t hear her above the storm of bullets I rained down upon the Conflicted.
Four
“Can you tell us anything about these guns that the Tormented are arming the Conflicted with?” Tracy demanded. She and Agatha had their backs pressed against a car. It wobbled every now and again as a panicked Londoner ran by and bumped against it.
“From what we can see–”
“Agatha!” Tracy reached out to try and grab her habit, but she had already gone. She weaved amongst the disarray of cars while gun fire echoed through the street. A young girl no more than five years old was frozen to the spot, crying. Her father was on the ground, glassy eyes staring into eternal nothingness.
“Ssh… don’t be scared, child.” Agatha crouched down. She smiled reassuringly at the little girl and used the hem of her habit to wipe away her tears. She picked her up in both arms and made her way back to Tracy. She slid down the side of the car, easing the young girl’s panic while she cradled her.
“Tracy, the guns–”
“ –are normal,” I said. I put a hand on the bonnet of the car and jumped over it. “The guns are normal,” I repeated. They can’t Cease us, look.” I pulled open my jacket and showed dark red blood oozing out of a nasty gunshot wound in my shoulder.
“Oh my gosh!” Tracy exclaimed.
“Don’t worry,” I said pulling away from her. “It was a clean shot. It went straight through.”
“You’ve been hit!” Tracy shouted above the din. She pulled out a top from her pocket. Gripping it between her teeth, she ripped it into a strip.
“Tracy,” I said slowly. “Where did you get that shirt?” She ignored me and she deftly tied the strip around my arm. I winced as she tightened it.