by T. G. Ayer
Please get him to come as soon as possible as I do not know how much time I have left.
Sitting back, Evie read the letter again, It sounded insane, and almost as though she was begging. but she was above begging if it meant she'd receive some form of help to get herself out of these horrible situations any wheels were turning but she was sure one more cog wouldn't hurt.
With the letter completed, Evie realized she was still able to see the dark ink. A second spell was needed. She studied the paper, unsure at first how to create the final spell. She decided to just allow her magic to work, to stop thinking so hard. And then in her instinct seemed to instruct the words to turn invisible.
Odd as it seemed, that was all that it took and suddenly the words shimmered silver right before Evies' eyes. She felt a little cross-eyed looking at mercurial lines of the message, the script appearing a little out of focus. But when she concentrated, her vision resettled and the letter’s lost the strange blur. And she was able to read it perfectly.
So that was how it worked.
A flutter of excitement ran through her body, and she found herself smiling at the paper. She felt a little dorky but she had to acknowledge the one little success in the almost unending line of failures she'd been experiencing over the last few weeks.
Better to enjoy the moment than to continue to be morose.
Happy now that the message was ready, Evie
Happy now that the message was ready, Evie ripped the page from the notepad and folded it up carefully. She wasn't entirely sure how she would give it back to the guard, and returning the pad of paper would seem like a strange thing to do when she was meant to be preparing for her trial. She tucked the message into her pocket and then made the bed, needing to keep her hands moving. The light exercise helped enough to inspire Evie to put in some physical training time. It would be silly for her muscles to turn into mush while she waited for her trial and then her freedom which would follow.
How was that for positive thinking?
Evie smiled as she shrugged off her cost and rested on the bottom of her bed. The inside of the heavy leather coat contained a multitude of pockets filled with bullets many laced with a variety of poisons, toxic blends capable of bringing down the strongest of supernatural creatures.
In her past, Evie had killed many an enormous beast, mostly those responsible for rampages and mass killings. Although some of her past deeds made her feel ill, like killing all those innocent demons for no reason other than to further Marcellus' agenda, she couldn't denby that she had done some good.
Over the years, teams working for the Irin were sent out on missions across the world, mostly to investigate death on a grand scale that could be attributed to supernaturals going batchit crazy--as Barry would put it.
Evei had once killed a dragon in mid flight, watched the berserker rage fade from the creatures eyes as he fell. She'd never been cruel in her kills, and that particular dragon she'd carried to safety as he shifted back into his human form. The dragon had decimated three cities, his mind crazed from age or fury, Evie never knew.
She'd had to use a kill-strike, straight to the eye, with a curved, twisted dagger laced with a rare poison. The dagger's unusual shaped reached a portion of the creatures' brain that rendered it vulnerable while the poison could be delivered straight to the brain allowing a quick and painless death.
Evie had often demanded the cases where she knew her fellow warriors would use force, and would likely cause the rampaging creature harm. She'd never been comfortable with taking joy from a kill, and she hated that she saw that enjoyment in the eyes of even those she considered her friends.
She'd often thought there was something wrong with the way she'd been build, that perhaps her genes had created a nephilim with a mental attitude nod in keeping with her fellow brothers and sisters.
There weren't many of her kind. A few thousand scattered across the various realms, two who had agreed with Evie, and who'd been unhappy with their placement in the WarthWorld. They'd eventually chosen to live an work in the realm of Av'rith, a plane which nobody was meant to know of, or be allowed to mention.
But Evie had elected to remain and to try her best to avoid carnage and bloody senseless murder by demanding she be given the most dangerous of cases. It had worked in her favor, only in that she'd gotten those jobs, had terminated the rampaging supernaturals quickly and easily, and without causing anyone further harm. But it made her an outlying, a threat to many of the more ambitious warriors who saw her as being given special preferences because of who her guardian was.
It had been a secret to the Irin for the first few hundred years, that Evie wasn his child in every way except for biological, but the truth, as most truths do, eventually came to light and ever since, Evie had to fight a second smaller battle after each of her kills.
She didn't much care, especially when she did her very best to respect the person she'd killed.
The problem with Evie was that she saw her targets as people. They were people, supernatural people whose powers had taken them over and rendered them senseless, filling them with a rage that even a tranquilizer was unable to curtail.
The second level of the dungeons had been for those targets, the ones who used to be brought back unconscious when it was believed they could be turned back, that they could be saved from the insanity within which they'd fallen.
Very rarely had they brought a berserker back from the rage, but Evie had insisted to be the executioner. She'd seen the craziness that went on in the old days. The crazed creatures used for target practice, the betting on who could render the prisoner unconconscious, the shedding of unnecessary blood for sport.
And she'd often thought that despite their state of apparent sanity, the willful mistreatment of the prisoners was far worse than the deranged actions of an unhinged mind.
So she had persevered. She'd convinced Patrick to eliminate the use of the lower dungeons. She'd helped him convince the Irin to allow her to take down the most dangerous and the largest of the targets. Those were the creatures who would receive the most horrific treatment.
Evie had once witnessed a group of warriors kill a dragon together, using ten volleys of poisoned arrows after the creature had been dealt the blow that brought him to the ground.
She'd been there, unable to stop the horror forced to watch as they shot arrow after arrow into the downed dragon, not even caring as the beast turned into man in the final moments of his death.
Patrick had used a DeathTalker to give testimony on behalf of the dragon in order to convince the brotherhood to change their rules. Evie was more than unpopular since that day but she hadn't cared. And yet she'd still ended up being a cold-blooded killer. In the purest form of the term.
She'd been killing for someone else's greed, and just her ignorance of that fact didn't excuse her in the slightest.
Now, Evie went through her training, practices her poses, and got the surprise of her life when her magic decided to make an unexpected appearance.
Chapter 22
Lost within the workout, the adrenalin racing through her body, Evie's thoughts found an easy route through her mind and spirit, discovering an outlet in her power. The energy had built slowly as she'd exercised, working muscles, situps, press-ups. She'd gone through as many exercises as she could do anything to work muscles she'd ignored while she'd remained in Hades. And she'd felt her power building slowly. Her Marks though had remained silent. She'd checked on them every so often, having removed her shirt to train in her singlet, and they hadn't moved an inch.
So the collecting of her power within her body had been interesting, though not surprising as she'd felt the power move within her before of its own accord.
Perhaps it was the thoughts of her past of the bloodshed that had angered her, or the pain she'd suffered at the senseless killings she'd witness, whatever it was something had fuelled her power enough for it to reveal itself and surprised Evie.
She'd performed a roundhous
e kick to the air in front of her and then moved smoothly into a hard downward stroke, her mind envisioning herself holding her sword as she struck. That was when the light had flared from her hands, shooting from her fingers, surprising her so much that she tripped herself up and staggered backward, ending up falling gon her butt, hand still wrapped around a magical, glowing sword.
"Wow." Evie found herself at a loss for words.
The cool air of the cell soaked into the perspiration coating her skin but she ignored it. Her entire mind was focused on her right hand on the sword made of light and magic that still lay there, as though it were real.
Evie closed her fingers over the grip of the sword, aware that the sword of light very much resembled her own sword, given to her by Patrick who'd claimed it to be a gift from her father. Now, the magical version of that sword had materialized in her hand.
Evie took slow breaths, trying to steady her racing heartbeat as she studied the sword. It was solid, that was the first thing she confirmed. Beneath the white glow, the sword was very real. She shook her head. Maybe she was going as crazy as those berserker supernaturals she used to hunt.
She wasn't sure what to think. So instead of trying to understand how the sword had appeared, Evie figured she should see what it was made of and what it could do. When magical swords presented themselves, it would be smart to use the gift than to question its existence.
Or at least that was what she told herself as she slowly got to her feel taking care to keep the magical sword from knocking against the stone. Now, wouldn't that bring the guards running?
Evie took another slow breath, wiping cold sweat off her forehead as she lifted the sword of light up to get a close look. The blade shone and she had to squint in order to see the writing engraved on the metal. She couldn't yet tell what the blade was made of, but whatever it was, Evie had to wonder if she'd fashioned it from her own magic. Was she really that powerful or was this kind of power similar to those of the angels who had first roamed the earth.
they'd been said to conjure gigantic blades out of thin air, deadly swords that would wreak havoc wherever the angels went, blades that would to spill the blood of thousands of mortals in a single strike. It had all seemed like a myth, a fantasy story told by skilled storytellers to entertain the people or to instill fear in the masses.
But now, as Evie stared aghast at the sword in her hand, she began to fear that those tales had an origin in truth. She only hoped that such destructive ability was not available to every Nephilim around.
And then the entrance doors to the dungeons clanged loudly.
Evie choked on her breathe. She couldn't let anyone see the sword. Or see her with the sword. who knew what the Irin would do with her if they discovered this power.
Which was why Evie had to hide the damned thing as soon as possible.
The only problem was, the sword seemed to have decided to ignore her commands--not that she knew at all how to give those commands considering the weapon had appeared of its own accord.
Evie gasped then shook the sword, feeling the weight of the steel blade resist her thrust. Then she closed her eyes, whispering her wish silently. But when she opened her eyes the sword was still there. As solid and as heavy as before.
Heart racing, Evie felt herself begin to panic as the footsteps of the guards drew closer. Evie rushed to the bed, threw the covers over and dropped the sword on the bed. It had been a good idea. She could have hidden the weapon under her blankets. But she still had a problem was the blade was far too long or had the damned thing grown while she'd been searching for a hiding place? It was now longer than Evie was tall. What in the name of the almighty was going on?
Evie was breathing hard now, staring around the room, wide-eyed with panic, she'd looked like a maniac when the guard arrived. Deep breaths deep breaths
As she listened to the rhythm of the approaching footsteps, Evie forced herself to focus. She smoothed her hair away from her face, returning the errant strands to her ponytail. Then she reached for her shirt and drew it back on.
Buttoning it up as quickly as her numbed shaking fingers allowed her to. then she studied the sword. It stuck out from the bottom of the bed by a foot and Evie wanted to burst into tears.
then she shook her head and hurried to the bed, angling the sword across the bed so that it fit diagonally and only stuck out a about ten inches. Then she repositioned the stool beside the bed and propped her long coat over the gleaming handle of the sword. the think leather hid the bright glow and Evie stepped backward. It would have to do.
Or things were going to take a turn for the worse.
As she moved to turn to the door, as the key shifted in the lock, Evie spotted the tip of the blad jutting out of the end of the bed.
Oh holy hells bells.
The door opened and Evie had no choice but to turn around and face the guards, terror taking up position in her throat.
Chapter 23
Evie froze as two guards entered the cell, trying to take slow breaths and keep her expression neutral while ensuring her body remained between the gargoyles and her bed in the corner of the room.
One of the gargoyles carried a small X-legged table, the second walking in balancing a tray bearing a plate covered in a stainless steel lid, two smaller bowls lidded with glass, and small pitcher of what looked like ginger beer, and an empty tumbler.
Of the guards bringing her food, neither were her ally.
Panic upon panic now, and Evie wondered if she would simply die of heart failure tonight. That would certainly solve a few problems.
The two guards set the table against the wall to her right and then headed to the door. They vanished down the hall and to Evie’s relief her gargoyle-buddy-pal walked in half a second later, holding a wooden chair in his hands.
He gave Evie a short nod then set the chair in front of the table and stepped away. He didn’t leave though, instead giving Evie a pointed look before staring awkwardly at the floor and then back over his shoulder at the door.
Evie didn’t move, though she did let out a slow breath, aware that the door was still wide open and anyone could walk in and find the freaking glowing ginormous sword hidden in her bed.
She had only one choice.
Without pausing to consider options and alternatives, Evie drew up her magic, erected a sound barrier around her and the guard, and then exhaled slowly.
Still, she didn’t want to let on that she was in a full on state of lanic, neither did she want to alert the guard to the presence of the damned sword. Even as an ally, the gargoyle could react in a panic and reveal that she had a weapon in her cell, if only to save his own ass.
So to keep up the appearance of normality, Evie smiled and said, “You have the knife?”
He nodded and came toward her taking slow and steady steps. He seemed worried that she’d lash out at him, and she understood that he too was unsure of her intentions, her motivation.
She nodded and held her hand out. “Are you sure about the blood oath?”
A look of panic ran across his face. But she waved a hand and said, “DOn’t worry. I’ve put up a sound ward. But I shouldn't keep it up for too long so let’s get this done fast.”
The guard sighed, relief clearing his expression as he retrieved the knife and fork from his pocket. They were wrapped in a pretty pink napkin, the incongruity of the bright color making Evie smile.
Evie took the cutlery then unrolled the carefully wrapped parcel. She went to the table to set the fork down beside the plate of spaghetti Bolognese, then faced the gargoyle who was currently staring up and around the cell as though trying to see the sound barrier.
“So, who goes first?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The power of the oath works equally.”
“What happens if either one of us break the oath?”
He gave her an odd look. “It’s not complicated. You break it, you bite it.” He gave a sheepish smile though even found his words far from amusing
.
She cleared her throat. “Maybe this isn't such a good idea.”
His eyebrows quirked. “Why? Will you break the oath?”
They still hadn’t spoken the oath but whatever they agreed on, Evie knew her answer. “Of course not. I’m just concerned about you. I have no idea why you are even helping me but I would rather not have you get in trouble because of it.”
The guard sighed and raised a hand to reveal his palm, as though ready to go through with the oath. But Evie glared at him. “What is your name?” Startled, the man stared at Evie, and she said, “Forget you name?”
He grunted, then coughed. “No. Just wondering why you are asking.”
“Because I’d like to know the name of the person about to put his life on the line for me. It’s not hard to understand.”
“Darth.”
Evie squited. “Huh?”
“My name. It’s Darth.”
“As in Vader?” Evie asked, unable to keep the smile out of her voice.
He rolled his eyes. “That gets old real quick. And no. There’s two h’s in Darthh.”
Evie grinned. “Ah. That definitely makes a difference.”
He snorted loudly, though his lips curled. “You’re a funny bird.”
Evie sighed. “That gets old real quick.” More relaxed now, she waved a hand at him. “Let’s do this before someone comes looking for you.”
Darthh hurried closer and offered his hand. Evie made a small cut in her palm with the knife then handed the blade to the gargoyle while she watched blood pool on her skin. Darthh did the same and then set the blade on the table.