“He deserved it.”
Olivia's friend, the Ranger - the current ranking member of the House due to Foster's tournament induced absence - taking my brief explanation in. Eyebrows going up, pupils constricting, and mouth slightly open in surprise.
“That's your explanation?”
“That's the truth it.”
“The truth of it. Deserved it.” The Ranger repeating the words to herself. “What do you think, Livy?”
“Mrs. Garland says the final decision is up to you.”
“Yes, she did say that, didn't she?” Looking very pleased with herself and running a hand though her hair. “So you claim he deserved it. Okay. Kyle, do me a favor and help Livy keep an eye on Macarthy.”
“Sure thing.” The guy giving an unconcerned shrug.
“As for you, Livy says you've been holding back. I expect you to pull your weight today.”
Giving her a salute. “Yes, ma'am.”
***
Everything snapping into sudden clarity during the heartbeat before. The half skeletal branches on the trees. The remainder covered with struggling, yellow brown leaves and the plodding crunch of their dead siblings underneath our feet. The crisp, fall air tickling my nose, prompting pleasant sniffles. The late afternoon sky, partially cloudy with no chance of rain, a blank blue grey canvas overhead. The slight burning sensation in my legs and feet, fatigue after a successful workday complete. About an hour left until we reach town, the home stretch in sight, but in that specific moment the entirety of everything all stretching out. My two escorts - so clingy the entire day - dropping back several paces. A space, five or ten feet in diameter, being cleared out around me. A glint, a sparkle in the distance, slowing time to a crawl during that single heartbeat. Ah, that's what-
Breath arrested midbreath, heartbeat arrested midbeat, thought arrested midthought and muscles jellified. A thousand hornets biting and stinging every extremity all at once. The blast of lightning – unmistakably a blast of lightning – momentarily scouring away every piece of the previously pleasant peace we'd enjoyed over the day.
“...not dead...”
“...good...”
“...grab her...”
“...be careful...”
A sudden chill bringing me back into the moment. Surrounded by the smell of singed hair and burned flesh, and the metallic taste of copper tickling my tongue. Sitting against something, propped up from behind. Olivia, kneeling in front of me, leaf in hand. Poking at my mouth.
“Eat this.”
Not a good idea. That isn't a friendly or concerned expression. The girl may be offering help, but to be helpful. Accepting the leaf anyway and the earthy, sour flavor starting to clear some cobwebs. Trying to flex my hands, but my sluggish, unresponsive muscles still spasming from being hit by lightning. Trying to shrug my shoulders and finding both arms held from behind. Reaching out to grab with the shield but nothing materializing. Dispelled. Nothing to be done about that. Focus on chewing.
“How do you like that, you bitch?”
The source of the lighting tromping up. Serena, from House Ishtar. Flouncing. And a couple steps behind her, that Ranger from Shaker's party the other day. Constance. That's what this must be: revenge for Liz. Chewing my cud while trying to shake off the lingering spasms. Flexing my limbs – trying to, at least - with my arms still completely immobilized behind my back.
“You look at me when I'm talking to you, you scum. You lying, thieving, murdering scum. I should-! Get your hands off me! Let go!”
My indifference, my resignation at my current situation, doing flipflops. One of the people restraining the crazed, invective spitting and wildly kicking girl catching my attention. The man who'd fooled me into believing this situation could be salvageable, or even preferable to my last one. The man who'd later recoiled in disgust, and betrayed me. Why's he here?
“Macarthy.” Olivia's friend, the leader for today's outing, flicking my forehead to get my attention. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, while you still can? This is about the time you should beg for mercy.”
That won't do any good. Clearing my throat and working my jaw. “If you stop now I'll overlook this whole incident.”
It was worth a try.
“Whore.” Her kick coming straight at my face. Mostly avoided. “You slag.” Avoiding the next kick entirely. A series of kicks coming afterward, undodgeable while sitting, aimed at my stomach and chest, but the impact of those mostly mitigated by my rune enhanced armor. Mostly. After seven or eight kicks the low growl from a largely overlooked member of the gathering raising in volume and causing her to stop short. Vesper, snarling, with teeth snapping, coming to my rescue and forcing the girl to back away.
“Charlie. Stop it. Charlie!”
Stay out of this, you stupid mutt. They'll kill you, too. Thanks for trying, but stay out of this.
“Vesper, stop it.” The wolf lowering the pitch of his growl by a fraction, but his hair remaining bristled.
“Charlie, heel.” The wolf, ears flat, turning his head to regard Wilde. The exchange lasting a few moments, and then the spirit weapon appearing in its customary spear shaped form. Wilde shifting his stance and squaring his shoulders. Raising his chin and looking down his nose. “Such a disappointing child. First, incapable of being a proper vessel. Unwilling. Now, completely insubordinate. No master should be disgraced by such a disappointing, selfish servant. If that's what you demand then I release you from your unfulfilled oaths. You're banished. Live the remainder of your life knowing that you are forever unwelcome among the clan.”
Vesper, so full of life and indignation moments before, collapsing to the ground - a puppet with its strings cut. The wolf struggling to get back to his feet and letting out a long, forlorn whine.
“Begone.” The spear in Wilde's hand disappearing and the man taking a moment to gather himself. “What are we waiting for? The jackal still needs to be properly collared.”
“You piece of shit, Nico, how could you abandon him over that?” Struggling vainly against the person holding me but making no headway whatsoever. Trying to envision Wilde as empty, as nothing, as meaningless, and so bring myself to Erase him, but Vesper's desperate, pitiful whines making that impossible. The man in front of me, the man who'd chosen to betray me one additional time - and his pet, as well - all too real.
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“What?” Wilde seeming genuinely puzzled. “He was showed mercy, he's free to go anywhere as long as it isn't around me. I didn't kill him, unlike what you would do. That's why I'm better than you - that's why each and every one of us is better than you – we're capable of showing mercy even to those we despise.” Wilde directing his attention at the poor, despair stricken shell of a wolf. “Go.” Pointing his finger.
Vesper, guilt wracked, tail tucked between his legs and huddling in on himself, slinking away in the direction Wilde had indicated. So low as to be crawling on the ground. Looking back in our direction once outside the circle of people. A pace or two more and looking back again.
“Nico, you-”
The aim on the Ranger's kick straight and true. Her boot catching me directly under the chin, sending my teeth painfully clacking together. Spitting out blood.
“You think letting him live is mercy? I'll show you what mercy means when all of you beg for death.”
The ensuing kicks coming in from all sides. The person holding my arms throwing me to the ground after the initial wave as some of the heavy boots sometimes missed their mark and hit him. Curling up and cradling my head as the kicks come. After what feels like forever, but probably is only about a minute, the attacks coming to a stop and the circle of people surrounding me pulling back a couple paces.
“Filth.” A glob of spit following after Serena's curse.
The dull aches and more sharp pains from the unfocused beatdown suddenly the least of my concerns. A siphon - that same familiar sensation as when charging items – starting to pull at me, to suck out my mana. Trying to close off the channel but only managing to slow it's momentum. Chancing a direct kick to the face by opening my guard in order to find the source.
There, Owens, from House Stormhawk's leadership. Shit. If he's here that means all three Houses are acting in concert at the highest levels. Should've taken this whole incident much more seriously from the start. The purpose isn't merely assault by some aggrieved parties, or that Ranger from Haven seeking retribution because Omen is cheating on her. Those reasons may factor in, but the goal here is probably complete neutralization. Properly collar me, that's what Nico said. If that's the case then suicide may be the only way out of this.
About to do it - about to activate Carve and stab myself - but then freezing. That won't work. They know about Carve so they must know that would be my play to escape. They already must've anticipated my reaction and sending myself to the temple completely spirit drained will probably suit them just fine. That's not an escape route at all, and they'll probably laugh about it afterwards. If that's how it is - that must be how it is - then escape is impossible and death is assured. So be it.
The overwhelming hopelessness from my impending defeat dissipating in the blink of an eye, and all the fatigue and soreness vanishing from my beaten body. Surrounded by dumbfounded expressions and flat feet. There's my target.
Only getting one step toward the man before the surprise wear off.
“Don't let her - it - escape.”
“Monster.”
“Keep Macarthy right there.”
My clawed hand scraping against a metal shield, sharp enough to leave marks but not enough to get through. The guy standing in my way gritting his teeth and shoving at me with the metal plank in order to force me back into the middle of the scrum. Not enough. You're nothing. Erase.
The jet black void and blast of icy cold air immediately altering everything. The group no longer focusing on containment or defensive postures, instead their weapons going up and ready, their faces grim. No orders issued, but they all seem to understand the situation. It's either going to be me, or them.
Using a moment recreate the Runic Shield rune on the back of my claw before barreling in, but finding Owens now behind a wall of people. Turning one eighty in order to maybe escape. Vines reaching up from the ground to grab, but overall doing more to hinder the larger group than me. Trying my best to turn their numbers against them, to be unpredictable, to somehow get away. The chaos of the situation not letting Serena unleash her potential, the girl staying well outside the melee while looking for an opportunity to strike again. Owens also staying out of the way and continuing to drain my mana even as it restores itself every few seconds.
Finding myself a couple minutes later still surrounded but all my enemies breathing heavy. Not feeling any sort of fatigue and the minor hits taken all shrugged off. Only three enemies down, two Erased, and the other had gotten his face clawed off after overextending. It's a shame they insist on being my enemies. Haven's people seem like a good group, overall, and they fight well together.
“How about you all let me g-”
All the fatigue and hits taken, minor and major, coming back to haunt me. The wave of tiredness and pain cutting me off mid sentence and dropping me to my knees. Using every remaining ounce of strength to stay off the ground entirely.
“Holy shit.”
“Don't let your guard down.”
“Did you see that?”
“Yeah, we all saw it.”
“Holy shit.”
“Get it ready. Owens, are you ready?”
“Not yet. Soon. Keep away from her in the meantime.”
Owens mana drain continuing unabated, and me with no strength left to slow it down anymore. All of my mana draining away, away, away. His reservoir seemingly bottomless. Sucking it out of me, exactly like-
Stupid. So stupid. Well, if that's how it's going to be hopefully take you all with me. Reaching into my cloak and pulling out the bag of today's bounty, the bag of little disjuncted stones. See you in hell. Smashing it on the hard ground with all my remaining strength and tossing it in his general direction. Curling up.
Stable and unstable. Balanced and unbalanced. The initial blast inside the bag creating a cluster bomb chain reaction. The explosions more loud than damaging, but Owens, still in the process of sucking up my mana, finding himself as natural lowest point for the vast majority of the stones' energy. The place he'd been standing becoming the epicenter of the large, devastating, crackling explosion. Energy arcing out. Those standing next him flung away and broken, and pieces of his body raining down over the area in a gory mess. Eight ghosts, about a third of the group, now milling about, moaning and wailing. Rolling onto my back, thoroughly exhausted but exultant. Teach you not to underestimate me.
Laying still for a couple minutes while trying to regather my strength. Unable to move. Listening to the remainder of the group talking and cursing and arguing with each other the entire time. The soft crunch of footsteps coming near making me turn my head. Olivia's friend, the person in charge of today's now disastrous expedition, the Ranger, coming into sight. Raising her weapon-
-and developing a queer expression. The woman going cross-eyed. There's her ghost. Sly, the man responsible for doing the deed, fading into view. Sitting down on his haunches and studying me.
“You really are Mac, aren't you?”
“I already told you that. How long were you watching?”
“I saw.”
“You saw it? Then why're you choosing now to help me?”
The man frowning at my question. “People talk, Mac,” he says. “I know you never cared much for any kind of gossip, but I always kept my ear to the ground to try and stay one step ahead. But what happened to you took me completely by surprise. If I didn't see what you did the other day - if I didn't see what happened just now - I dunno if I'd ever believe it.”
“I'm not lying about it.”
“I know. I finally believe you. But, Mac, like I said, people talk. A lot of 'em – a lot of 'em – are glad. They say you deserve it - that you deserve much worse. They think it, they say it, and they believe it. That's the worst part of it - they honestly believe it. They're short sighted morons who can only look at what it means for you, and not what it may mean for them down the road.”
“I'm glad to have your sympathy, but it hasn't been that bad. Yeah, there's been plenty of bad, but what's happened led to plenty of good, as well.”
“I guess you don't fully get it, either,” the man says. His focus shifting to the dirt and a palm going to my forehead. “If I were you, Mac, I'd stay out of town for a bit. They're all going to be coming after you for what happened here. And probably for everything else.”
“Is that the smart play, Sly? Seems like it would be.” The man giving the slightest shrug. “That's what you'd do, right?” A giggle coming out in spite of my fatigue. “I appreciate your sympathy – I definitely appreciate your help – but given what just happened, and what you just said, there's no way I can do that.”