Elizabeth watched an explosion in the distance.
And if the circumstances were normal, she would have raised an eyebrow and little else, leaving the job of cleaning up to her subordinates. The good thing about being at the top was that you could delegate practically everything.
It wouldn't be the first or last time a peaceful day had been interrupted by an explosion, after all.
Elesbury could be in the middle of nowhere. But where there were people there could only be trouble.
Unfortunately, the circumstances weren't even halfway normal. The town was as dead as the Count should be, for the sake of herself and no one else, so that could only mean one thing.
"That idiot has gotten himself into trouble. And I told him he should save the fucking walk for later, anyway, at least he can't get himself killed."
Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders.
She was completely surrounded, but she was actually alone. Since all the people around her were dead. At least they'd have her back in a fight.
She made to go down the stairs, but stopped immediately, on the first step.
She had noticed a small, but extremely unnatural detail. The shadow of the fountain in the backyard, which she was about to go down to exit through the back door, had grown eyes.
Indeed, pale blue eyes, like the reflection of the moon on the lake.
And if only it had stopped at that.
Eyes. Gradually, a person emerged from the shadow of the fountain. First it was just fingernails scratching the ground, but rapidly arms, torso and finally legs passed to the other side, finally crawling out of the shadow.
And when she said fast, she meant it. Too fast.
Even if she'd hurried, Elizabeth wouldn't have been able to get there to slay the assassin before he emerged from the shadows. The assassin, indeed. It couldn't be anything else. She'd already warned Jonathan of what would happen and here they were.
It was the first time she'd faced a person with a Unique Skill like that.
It sounded obvious, but despite the name, such skills could and often were similar. For example, a person could unlock the Unique Skill of extending their arms and legs as if they were made of rubber, but with distinct limitations, with some twist that made them separate.
However, Elizabethhad never encountered someone who could travel between shadows. Not even something close.
"Anyhow, the strangest one is Jonathan," she muttered to herself, starting down the stairs. The dead, meaning her former guards, didn't follow her. Jonathan had ordered them to protect her, but one of the disadvantages of his power was that you couldn't ask much of the dead.
Protecting her if someone attacked her was a complex order for them.
Because, first, they had to somehow acknowledge that it was happening. Elizabeth had warned him about this, too, but he had paid little attention to it. The shadow assassin pinned his gaze on her. The most common limitation was that the Skill could only be executed within the user's field of vision. Despite that, she made no attempt to hide.
"How about letting me pass?" Elizabeth said. "I'm not even your target."
Of course, she didn't expect that to work. Not at all.
"That's where you're wrong."
I see. So not only was he there to distract her while the other assassin dealt with Jonathan, or tried to. They'd also put a price on her head. The Count shouldn't have known she had cooperated with Jonathan, not from what the survivors would have told at least, so he'd seen her betrayal coming.
Well. It wasn't as if he'd left her any choice.
If it were up to her, she would be enjoying her life of luxury and privilege, so different from the life of a pirate, where you had to claw for every scrap of happiness and it could vanish at any moment.
If it were up to her.
But life was what happened while people made plans. Elizabeth continued down the stairs. Without stopping, she unsheathed her sword. Even then, the assassin didn't move from where he stood, didn't do anything, just kept watching. Was he underestimating her because she was a woman?
Well, she wouldn't complain, she had to admit that the arrogance of men had saved her ass a time or two. And what mattered, after all, was survival.
Pride was an ornament like one of many she had in her mansion, and there was no such thing as a fair fight. It was as simple as that.
Suddenly, the assassin drove one knee into the ground.
And lowered an arm, causing him to step through the shadow of the fountain, which he had never left at any time. She should have seen it coming! But it was already too late.
Making use of the shadow cast by her sword, the assassin's hand closed around the pommel.
"Fuck," Elizabeth mumbled.
Okay. So it wasn't all or nothing, he could move parts through the shadows. Good to know. Yes, you had to look on the bright side of things.
But, first of all, she had to get rid of this.
Dropping the sword was the first solution that would come to anyone's mind. Easy and quick. On top of that it wouldn't even cost her anything, she could retreat up the stairs, take a weapon away from one of the revived. Not as good as her sword, of course, but at least she wouldn't be defenseless.
However, she didn't feel like giving up her sword.
Besides, if he did it once, what was to stop him from doing it again? No. Giving in was not a good idea.
The assassin lowered his other arm, too.
Now there were two hands on the pommel of her sword.
Strong hands, but she wasn't talking about the difference in strength between men and women, generally. The force he was applying, dragging her down with her sword, was entirely unnatural. Perhaps she would have no choice but to drop the sword, after all, as much as she didn't like it. She clicked her tongue.
Her legs were shaking. Yes, there was no way to win this struggle, no matter how much it weighed on her. Well. There would be a way, but her stupid bodyguards still didn't recognize what was happening as a threat, so they wouldn't lift a finger, leaving everything in her hands.
It made her miss the times when she could delegate everything to them, ha, well, except the paperwork.
Finally, Elizabeth gave up.
She dropped the sword, letting it sink into her own shadow.
Then she broke into a run. But not toward the enemy, of course. She turned around, running back the way she had come, hoping to hide behind whatever (or whoever) before his hands caught her. When she was safe, she could worry about how to fight an enemy she couldn't let herself be seen by.
——
Jonathan was torturing the assassin. Wasting his time, just because he enjoyed it. He knew he was making a mistake. He knew he should grab the sword with both hands and push until this was all over.
But so what, what could she do? She was going to die anyway.
The answer was that at this point there was really nothing she could do. She didn't have the strength to raise her hands and point them at the ground beneath her feet, triggering more explosions.
He had her in the palm of his hand and could do whatever he wanted with her.
Therefore, it didn't matter that he had chosen not to crush her immediately. It wasn't going to change the outcome of that battle. Besides, what was more important....
Jonathan grins from ear to ear.
Right now, he feels on top of the world.
But suddenly...
The world went white. As if his eyes were torches suddenly extinguished by the wind. A world of pure white, where he couldn't even feel himself. But that world only lasted for an instant. When his vision returned, he was falling for some reason. His arms were crossed in front of him. Speaking of his arms, they hurt. He couldn't tell why until his back hit the ground.
Broken pieces.
Not glass. Steel.
Shards? Of what? He was confused, it had been too sudden. What exactly had happened? Why was he suddenly on the ground like that worm? Why...? Why could he feel blood sliding down his neck, hot and sticky?
Why did his whole body ache?
Pieces.
From his sword.
She had chosen to explode her sword. Even though it had been so close. Literally inside her. His sword had exploded into hundreds of pieces!
"Son of a bitch," he mumbled bit by bit, each word an effort. Blood rushed up his throat. And it came out as he coughed, choking.
His arms, still crossed in front of his head, trembled. His legs, too.
The assassin wasn't much better off than he was. Pieces of the sword were stuck in her chest, in her neck, and in one cheek, sticking out like blood"stained fingernails, protruding and forming cracks in the dark armor, but more importantly, the assassin was still alive, as wounded as she was, as shallow as her breathing was, as much as she seemed to lack the strength to even hold her head up, she was alive and....
A finger was rising. Toward him.
——
Elizabeth reached the top of the stairs without anything happening.
As quickly as she could, she knocked a table to the ground and positioned herself behind it. She was aware that her cover wouldn't last long. After all, the table cast a shadow, too. Everything cast a shadow.
They had chosen to attack them in broad daylight, rather than at night, because of this Unique Skill.
And because there was really no disadvantage, since this city was dead.
But, as temporary as the protection of the table was, at least it gave her some time to think. Elizabeth took a deep breath, trying to calm her agitated heartbeat. She had many years of experience. She was used to fighting for her life, even after these quiet years like a hibernating bear; it wasn't something you could forget.
But the fear was always there. How could it not be?
The adrenaline might shake you, but it helped you survive. I must survive, whatever it takes. And I'll use any means to do it.
She heard it.
She couldn't be sure, but she heard it.
The assassin's hands emerged from a shadow again, this time to knock the table aside, to leave her unprotected.
Next time, those hands would close around her neck.
Elizabeth took a deep breath, again. Preparing to dart to the side, down the hallway. Looking for more cover.
The table went flying and she went running.
She managed to hide once again. But her luck would not last. And now what she was hearing was the killer gradually approaching down the stairs. Not running, at least not yet. Cautiously. Even though the Count should have given him information about her skills, unique or not.
Even with a moderate pace, it wouldn't take long to reach where she was.
And, apparently, Jonathan's soldiers weren't going to lift a finger. Now that she thought about it, the assassin should be treading cautiously around the resurrected, not her, at least for the most part. That made more sense.
Elizabeth spat to the side.
It was frustrating. So many soldiers should be able to tear the assassin apart with ease, overwhelmed with the power of numerical advantage. Instead, they were standing like statues. And it looked like that wasn't going to change, no matter what. What could she do? Maybe the key was to get them to wake up, somehow. Jonathan was far away, but he had given them orders to follow. She just had to get them to acknowledge that this was happening. It was easier said than done. Like so many things.
Fuck.
Fuck. I knew none of this would be easy, but... Fuck.
If she had to beat this opponent without even being able to let herself be seen, the best option was... going for a gun. Her best and only option. The bad news was that the nearest gun was in her office.
It wasn't too far away, but covering any distance facing an opponent like this was dangerous. Once his hands closed around her neck, it would be all over.
Jonathan wasn't the only one who had screwed up.
But, to be fair, she had never been much of a fan of guns. She couldn't be blamed, since, for most of her career as a pirate, they hadn't even existed. And she'd never met an enemy she couldn't rip to shreds with her sword.
Elizabeth had never expected to face an enemy like this.
Anyway, Crouching low, she darted out, rounded the corner.
"Wherever you go, I will find you!"
And that's what I want. But not before I get my hands on the gun. She had to be very careful. Had to keep in mind that, in reality, it wasn't that she couldn't let herself be seen, even seeing her shadow would be enough to kill her. And that was much harder to hide.
"No one can hide from me. Not for long. Where there is light, there is shadow."
What was he trying to do, wasting time and wasting oxygen? Intimidate her, perhaps?
The office door.
If she approached, her shadow would stretch along the wall of the hallway. It wasn't something she could avoid. To make matters worse, there was no way she could turn the knob while crouched so low. She would have to raise herself a little, just a little, but perhaps enough to be visible from the assassin's position.
If his hands closed around her neck, she would die.
If she made the smallest mistake, she was finished, in other words. Could she gamble it all on simply being fast enough? Elizabeth clicked her tongue.
"Hey, how about we make a deal?"
"Deal?"
Elizabeth didn't expect him to agree. Just that he'd stop walking, and that's what he did. At least she couldn't hear the sound of his footsteps anymore. She wasn't going to risk a glimpse, so she couldn't confirm it one hundred percent, guessed he could be moving slowly, slowly, very carefully, so as not to make noise.
She guessed. But she didn't think so.
"I didn't... I didn't do any of this because I wanted to. I did it because my head was next on the chopping block, you understand? I just need you to contact the Count. If I'm pardoned, I'll give him his enemy on a silver platter. And everyone's happy. Except Jonathan, of course."
"Contact, huh? So you know that too," muttered the assassin. "No wonder your head was on the line. You should have known to keep your nose out of his business."
"Do we have a deal?"
"We ain't got shit."
Well, at least she couldn't say she hadn't seen it coming.
Elizabeth lunged for the door. It wasn't ideal, too dangerous, but she'd missed the chance for an ideal outcome since she'd left the office without a gun on her. She'd have to settle for surviving.
She opened the door and was about to step over the threshold, her shadow disappearing into the room along with her.
Unfortunately, she hadn't been quick enough.
She felt the assassin's hands on her ankles.
Pulling her down, and it took only one tug to make her lose her balance.
She fell to the ground on her back, barely avoiding hitting her head on the knob, possibly opening up a good wound. Though she had greater worries on her mind, at any rate.
Her shadow was sprawled across the floor.
But, of course, the assassin hadn't tugged at her to essentially remove her from his sight again.
He was already close, having turned the corner.
Their gazes met again.
As those hands closed around her neck, tightening. Instinctively, Elizabeth put her hands over the assassin's, screamed, snarled, and gathered all her strength as she fought for her life.
It wasn't enough.
Of course it wasn't.
It had already been clear to her, she'd already told herself that it would all be over the second she was caught.
Elizabeth would never have imagined that she would die like this.
If she was going to have such a miserable death, she would rather have died on the high seas boarding some good prey, without having risen to the position of governor of Elesbury. Without having run in circles, trying to rise above her status, only for her end to be just as miserable.
Damn it.
No matter how hard she struggled, she was getting nowhere, couldn't get her fingers to move an inch. And gradually, of course, she was running out of oxygen.
Soon Elizabeth wouldn't have the strength to resist, if she'd ever had a chance.
She had never wanted to depend on anyone, but she supposed that now her only real chance was to wait for Jonathan to reach her. If he hadn't lost his own battle. Ha. Shit.
Shit.
She couldn't hold back the tears. They weren't tears of sadness, though.
There was just pure rage.
In her tears and on her face, twisting from the fire burning inside her.
——
She didn't aim directly at him. She pointed further up, toward the ceiling. It didn't matter. He couldn't get away anyway. This time he did see it coming, though it didn't change anything.
It was the ceiling that exploded.
The shockwave sent him down through the floor.
Jonathan fell to the floor below and it was a surprise that he hadn't broken his neck, but he hadn't quite escaped intact. He noticed a piece of wood through his torso.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me, how could this happen, how could everything go to shit so fast?
Fuck. It hurt so much.
Jonathan pulled his hand, now full of blood, away from the wound. He knew that sooner or later he would have to take it out or he was as good as dead, well, as captured. But, damn, it hurt so fucking bad. He couldn't even think with that pain. His mind was melting into white.
Wood.
Wood creaking.
And it wasn't the building being shaken by a storm. It was the assassin staggering down the stairs, chasing. She wanted to make sure she finished what she'd started. Even if she died trying.
Jonathan could understand her.
If he was going to die, he'd at least want to take the son of a bitch who'd killed him with him.
He smiled through bloodstained lips.
Am I lost, can I really only hope that Elizabeth hasn't lost her own battle and come looking for me? He didn't like depending on other people, used to them failing him, and even the times when he failed others simply reinforced his way of thinking because he was one of them after all.
But it really seemed to be his only option.
The assassin had already reached the foot of the stairs. She was barely standing, but she was alive... and she had already gotten close enough to end it all.