Chapter 4: Jester

“Don’t you think it’s funny that human skulls look like they’re always laughing?”

- Overheard in Dan’s Corner

“Give me the phone.”

A knife resting against your throat was a great way to start doing whatever you were told, as it turned out. After I handed him my device, he crushed it. The only thought going through my head as I watched the pieces rain down on the pavement was that I was royally screwed.

“What are you doing here?”

The clown’s mask hid all his facial expressions, but his tone made it sound like he was asking a coworker how their weekend had been.

“I was out for a walk.”

My mind spun as we conversed. What was going on here? He’d disappeared after walking into the alley with that girl. Now, he was here by himself.

“A walk, huh…didn’t you read the sign?”

The words travelled into my ear, through my throat and into the depths of my stomach, where they churned. Ambience around me died out.

“What sign?”

Though he was standing behind me, I could envision the red-painted laugh plastered on his cover.

“No Shuras.” He grinned.

I paused, waiting out the uncontrollable shaking of my little toe.

“I’m not a Shura.”

I pronounced every syllable as if he spoke a different language. Meanwhile, I tried to move my hands into a more favourable position, but I stopped when his knife pressed harder against my skin.

“You certainly don’t look like one—”

A string of hope fell down from the heavens, pulling me upwards.

“—Mrs. Gloomworth.”

And my name scissored through it. He used his free hand to gather mine and held them together. But he didn’t bind them using magic.

“A Shura who hurts purebloods for a living,” bells chimed as the clown shook his head, “I’m afraid a staking won’t be enough to absolve you.”

“You’re insane! Let me—”

He placed the flat of the knife against my mouth, shushing me.

“The biggest sinners must atone the most.”

“Atone for what?” I spit out. Was he some type of religious fanatic?

Ambience revived around us, the sounds lending his words credence.

“Redemption.”

A shove pushed me forward. Our direction was the same alleyway he’d taken the girl. The closer we got, the more my shoulders tightened. Was I going to disappear in the same way? Where would I end up? I thought about screaming, but the knife’s edge stilled my voice. My eyes darted all over as I looked for anything to help me escape. There was nothing.

We were two paces removed—

My captor came to a standstill. His sudden halt and my forward momentum caused the outer layer of my skin to stretch against the blade, but I stopped in time to not cut myself. The clown shifted. Though there was no telling what he was doing, his attention wavered.

The grip on my hands loosened.

I didn't hesitate. My foot shot out behind me, blindly aiming for his knee. It landed with a solid thud. He tipped forward, the distance between his weapon and my throat widening for a brief moment. Twisting at the hip, I pulled my arms up and away and jumped backwards, dodging the tip of the blade that tried to slice me on the way out at the last second.

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Turning my back on a vanishing clown didn’t seem like the best idea. So, I chose not to run. Instead, I watched my attacker regain his balance. He laughed, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Brilliantly done.”

My lip twitched. I aimed to break his joint with that kick, but I had no such luck since the leverage had been off. I was free, though. That was what mattered.

“The name’s Jester.” He bowed at the hip.

“Ah,” he raised himself and palmed his fist, “I think I have an idea—”

His mask twisted and curved at the mouth, revealing a row of yellow teeth.

“—of how to save you.”

Jester moved. I only had enough time to raise my guard before he was on me. In my mind, I'd already given up on the idea of leaving this battle unscathed. It just wasn't possible when fighting someone with a knife. The blade point aimed for the side of my throat, so I weaved and raised my elbow to defend. Instead of cutting through my neck, the knife carved through the meat of my triceps before getting stuck. Despite anticipating the hurt, I screamed as I instantly lost all control of my right arm. Then and there, I nearly dropped to the floor. But instincts fuelled me, and I continued my momentum with tears in my eyes. My weave had lowered my centre. So my counter landed with the full weight of my body behind it. A crack resounded as Jester's jaw rattled against my knuckle, and he lost his grip on his weapon.

I stepped back. Blood streamed down my limp arm in rivers. Fuck. That is a nasty wound. The whole area felt wrong. It was numb yet throbbing, and adrenaline was the only thing keeping me from cradling it like a baby. The more I looked at the injury, the less the painkiller worked, though.

Eyes on your opponent, Samantha whispered in my head, and I forced my gaze away from the rend.

The clown skipped from foot to foot.

“How does it feel to be a true half?”

There was a silence as I tried to decipher what he was saying. Then, Jester started chuckling at the jest only he understood, which turned into laughter so loud it rang through the streets. He curled in on himself and slapped his knees. Lead sunk into my shoes. He's not taking this seriously at all. I was bleeding to death while he was playing around.

Jester wiped away a blob of ink streaming down his mask. After he clicked his chin back in place, he spread his arms as if to regard an audience.

A flame raged through my veins at his antics. The metal in my shoes vanished, the fire melting it and turning it into fuel.

“Now for the other,” he said.

Before his last syllable rolled past me, he was in motion. Defence was not an option, so I met him halfway. The knife cut deeper due to my sudden movement, and I faltered, pain lancing through my arm. Jester didn't wait. He ducked low. Too low for me to correct the course of my left and still hit him. Had my right arm been working, I would've been able to perhaps pull back and then throw a counter. It was a perfect move that covered all my options.

But that was the thing with a feint, I managed to grin. A feint was dangerous because you had no idea it was one, and my unintentional stumble played into my hands, selling the lie even better.

I sidestepped at an angle. Jester’s eyes followed me, and I watched in slow motion as realisation dawned on the only visible part of his face. I was a professional boxer. True. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t practised any fighting sport related to kicking.

When my heel found his temple, he could tell I hadn’t slacked on my training. The force behind the kick sent his head crashing against a railing on the sidewalk, but I didn’t stay around to see if he got back up. I wouldn’t bet on that fake working twice.

The soles of my shoes caved as I dashed through the streets. My bad arm flapped in the wind, causing the knife to wriggle around in my flesh. It hurt, but I ignored the pain. All I needed to do was get to Clementine.

Tiredness and my lacking limb made sprinting difficult. I tried to make a turn down the street but crashed into a dumpster instead. Though I didn’t fall over, it did steal precious seconds. Seconds that came back to haunt me. Wind whistled. I turned just in time to dodge underneath the disc-like object on course for my head.

“Already done?”

Jester approached from behind, his steps measured. There was a sway to it, a jiggle, like how a child would skip steps on the way to their favourite candy store.

“I suppose I can’t boo you for your bag of tricks running empty.”

Sapphire flashed around his palm, gathering into the form of a rod that solidified. When the head opened up to reveal a slender blade of mana, a muscle on my forehead relaxed. It was over. I’d found it strange he hadn’t used any magic since the beginning of the fight. I finally understood why.

Jester cackled.

“Playing with you was entertaining.”

There wasn’t any time to respond. Jester blurred as he took off, and the energy blade spanning half my torso threatened to split me in half. My eyes drooped. At least the pain will be over. I waited on the relief. It never came. What reached me in its place was the clash of iron on iron.

I managed to force my eyelids open. Barely visible in the moonlight was a shape holding a sword whose edge was matted with blood. He wore a pair of gloves that had tubes circling around them. On his face was a wolf mask. Well, the bottom of one. It hid his mouth but left exposed his saffron eyes that pierced through the dark of night.

“Crumbs,” Jester said. “I was wondering who’d taken out my clone.”

The wolf-man scoffed. He turned, his gaze meeting mine.

“Run.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I ran off. Clementine, the hospital's name, rang in my head like a church bell. If I got there—

I hadn’t put four steps when I collapsed to the ground. Darn it. The muscles in my legs were unresponsive, breath heaved in my chest, and my brain squished like a sponge as the edges of my vision turned black. The lack of colour drawled inwards, cloaking the rest of my sight.

My saviour yelled something. It didn’t reach my ears. Then, the world went dark.