Elizabeth was crying with rage.

She couldn't believe it. That she had come so far to die now. It was a cruel joke. But life was a succession of cruel jokes, wasn't it? At least it was ending.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, fuck.

She wasn't going to give up that easily. It would be like disrespecting her past self, all her effort and sacrifice. There was still something she could do. Something to try. Maybe it wasn't very likely, but it was the only thing she could think of, the only thing she could try with so little strength.

Next to the door of her office there was a small table. The important thing was not that, but the vase on top of it.

Kicking it, she knocked the table over. The vase scattered in pieces on the floor.

And she picked up one of the pieces. Squeezing it hard, even though it stuck in her palm, even though she soon felt the blood flowing.

And threw it.

Threw the piece over her.

The piece of the vase shattered the lamp hanging above her, plunging the corridor into darkness. And at that very moment, the pressure of the assassin's hands disappeared.

She had been right, after all.

With the single clue that he had chosen to attack in the daytime instead of at night, she had saved herself.

Elizabeth got up.

Not very quickly, but her head spun anyway. She rushed to the side and the wall was the only thing that broke her fall. She supposed she should be happy she hadn't lost consciousness, yet.

Elizabeth staggered into the office, into the darkness.

Still, she closed the door almost all the way so that her shadow wouldn't be visible to the assassin if the light came back on. She didn't close it all the way because, stupidly, she felt like gloating. It might be stupid, but it might also give her an advantage.

In any case, it didn't matter what justifications she could give it.

Only the anger.

“I knew it," she spat, "Your ability only works in contrast to the light. In the deepest darkness, you're just as blind as I am.” Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh. “You're going to regret not taking me up on my offer, when you still had time. And having set foot in this town.”

“Shut your mouth, you fucking whore.”

She shut her mouth, yes, because she was done with what she wanted to say.

But first she shut the door hard.

Her eyes naturally needed some time to get used to the darkness. She couldn't risk turning on the light, since the assassin wasn't that far away. It shouldn't be difficult to retrieve the gun, even so. After that...

Well. It would all depend on who was faster.

She was confident in her speed, even though she wasn't that used to guns. She could do it. Furthermore, she rummaged through the drawers of the office desk, fumbling in the dark. As she had thought, it was easy, very easy, actually, she found it in the top drawer.

Right off the top drawer. And just in time.

Because, the next second, the door was kicked open.

Elizabeth took aim and fired.

Had she caught him?

No. He had moved in time, hiding behind the door. Reloading in the dark... it would be harder. Her hands were shaking. Not like pudding, but enough to get in the way of the job. Fuck. Fuck. Still, how many times could she count on that trick before he broke her neck? There was no way it was going to work a second time. She couldn't afford to underestimate the assassin or she'd be lost.

It had to be here and now.

She had to kill him with the second shot.

Normally it was quicker to throw the gun away and pick up another than to reload. But she had no other choice. There was no other gun nearby. Come on. Come on, come on, come on, damn it.

Her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness.

Not quite, but enough to see the assassin entering the office... and leaping out. Straight at her, over the table.

“I'm not going to die here!” she screamed.

——

Jonathan grunted through his teeth, his hands on the piece of wood skewered in his stomach. He couldn't believe that only seconds ago he had won, he was so sure of his victory that he even allowed himself to play with the food.

He had made a grave mistake. A stupid, stupid mistake.

He should have ended it all while he still had the chance. Yes, while he had had it. Because it had already slipped through his fingers. The assassin had come down the stairs.

And he couldn't run away, well, he had nowhere to hide to begin with.

He wasn't going to give up, of course. But he saw it all looking rather grim.

The assassin was raising a finger in his direction. Focusing her power for another blast. If she managed to kill him, by the time he "woke up" again, he would be in the Count's hands. If he woke up, of course. If he did.

"Wait... Wait!" Only he had nothing. No plan, no way to convince her, he was just desperate.

The assassin staggered forward.

Falling to the ground on her knees.

But that would give him. A few seconds? Shut up and pull, asshole. Pull. On the piece of wood, of course. Even though he was weak and the wood wet and slippery with his blood.

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Fuck. How it hurt. It was like having a red"hot iron pressed against his gut.

He'd thought himself used to pain, but this was real pain.

So what?

Life was painful.

He wasn't going to give up here, he wasn't going to stop. He finally tore it out of him. And because of that he staggered to the side, almost ending up on the ground. He had only lost his balance. Not his life. He could consider himself lucky.

The assassin wasn't having much better luck than he was. Right now, she was struggling to get up again.

And failing.

She was too close to death. Even if the woman killed him here, she wouldn't make it out alive. So she at least wished she could drag him with her to hell. I deserve nothing but hell, but I can't go yet, Jonathan thought as he tore a piece of the sword from his arm.

He squeezed it tightly, not caring about the blood that immediately began to flow.

As long as he didn't lose the use of his hand from the damage, it was only somewhat more painful when he had the sensation of his whole body burning, even though it had only hit him in the stomach.

But of course. The explosions he had taken full on didn't help, even if the wounds weren't as visible.

He just had to stab her with this, and then he could rest.

Jonathan approached the fallen assassin with the improvised weapon in hand. He took steps with no trouble. Ten steps in all, but for some reason step number eleven was too much for him.

As if they were somehow connected, he fell to his knees halfway, and the assassin rose to finish what she had started. Now there was only one thing he could do.

He raised the steel piece of his sword to eye level.

Judging the distance, the trajectory.

The question was whether he could do this considering how he was. Half dizzy, half passed out. Everything was blurry and undulating slightly, as if he was lost in the middle of the sea on a piece of driftwood, feeling the power of the ocean that slept under his feet, continuously rocking him.

That sea was, of course, death.

Jonathan threw it.

He threw the steel with all the strength he had left. He just had to manage to knock her over.

To finish her off, he had other pieces he could extract from his body. You could say that explosion had been good for him, ha.

Although it would have been better, of course, if it had never happened.

Although, it needn't have happened. It had been his fault.

The piece of steel dug a little above her knee. That leg buckled, and she fell, driving her knee into the ground. She managed to avoid falling back to the ground, however, she broke her fall by supporting herself on the ground with both hands.

"Persistent... bastard." Jonathan was surprised she could still talk, to tell the truth.

He thought that if he tried, he wouldn't be able to. But he wasn't planning on trying, he had nothing to say to her, of course. Jonathan put a hand to his armpit, where he had another piece of the sword stuck.

He bit his tongue and pulled. Fortunately, one tug was enough.

Jonathan lunged at her.

He shouldn't think, as before, that she wouldn't attack him with a blast being so close to her. She had prepared herself to die. Now the woman was capable of doing anything to drag him down with her, she wasn't even pretending to accomplish her mission, it was pure rage.

So...

Simply put, he had to do this fast. If he didn't kill her in one blow, his pieces would end up scattered all over the bar.

——

One shot was all she had, all she could do before she died. Fortunately, that was all it took. The bullet pierced the shadow assassin's forehead from side to side, exploding his head like a ripe melon left for hours in the sun.

The corpse continued to fall.

Elizabeth stepped back, taking several steps backward. Her back almost touched the windows behind the table.

Upon which the assassin's corpse landed. It was a good table, though. He didn't take it with him to the floor, simply bounced off the edge and rolled across the floor, onto the carpet, until he came to a stop at last.

Elizabeth stopped holding her breath...and only then did she realize that she had been doing it in the first place.

Her fight was over. She had won, even though the soldiers sent to protect her had been of no help. She had won under her own power. It was the last thing you should worry about in a situation like that, considering all that was at stake, but... She felt a deep satisfaction that she had been able to do it alone. Even when she had been a pirate, she had fought in groups constantly, not that she had wanted to do it all alone, but she couldn't help that satisfaction.

Good.

Well, in any case, her fight was over... but what about Jonathan?

She'd gotten rid of an assassin. But, if the one responsible for the explosions defeated Jonathan and took him out of town, to the Count, then she would have lost everything. She had to hurry.

——

He thrust the piece of steel, like a dagger without a handle, through the hole in her armor of darkness. The hole in her body, too. He had almost finished her off less than a minute ago.

He just had to push a little harder, he just had to end this before it was too late.

His makeshift dagger slid easily into her body, between her ribs and all the way to her heart. Yes. He felt clearly as the steel pierced the heart.

This is over, he thought. And the next second...

There was nothing. No black, no white. Nothing, as he died instantly, and thank goodness, thank goodness he didn't have to witness his head explode.

——

Jonathan's eyes opened again. He had just regained consciousness, but instantly his heart began to pound, each beat like the pounding of a hammer.

Because he remembered. He remembered the situation he had been in... A moment ago?

In any case, there was a woman hovering over him, but it wasn't the explosions' assassin. She was the only other woman on the island. Well, minus his resurrected soldiers, of course.

Elizabeth.

She had arrived, after all. He didn't know why she'd taken so long, but what counted was that she was here. Jonathan rubbed his eyes. His intention was to clear his vision. He wasn't crying or anything, it was just blurry.

It didn't work.

Elizabeth was nearby, but he couldn't see her well. It's temporary. Like...

Death? Yes, he must have died.

"Did you save me?" Jonathan asked, and although it should be the least of his worries in a situation like this, given all that was at stake, he couldn't help but feel...

Embarrassed. Yes, just that.

He wasn't used to needing help. Although during the time he had been a pirate, he had always had his men watching his back, so it's not like he felt the need to do everything alone or anything like that.

In any case, it was just a passing feeling.

"No," Elizabeth said. He was relieved, even. How stupid. "By the time I got there, it was all over. In these last ten minutes, I've just been sitting there watching the pieces of your head go back to where they should be."

Jonathan blinked.

"My head. My fucking head?" Now that she said it, even his numerous wounds were gone. Not the old ones, he imagined, the ones that had already healed, though he hadn't seen them. But evidently all the cuts created when that bitch had exploded the sword were gone.

"Yes. Looked like it had exploded."

"Ya. She could..." Jonathan stood up, moving to a sitting position. He became dizzy and had to lean on the floor. "She had a unique skill to create explosions."

"I know, do you think it wasn't perfectly audible even from the other side of the island?"

"But... my head..." He didn't remember how he had died. But it didn't make sense, and it was for a very simple reason. "Exploded? If she could have just blown my head off, she would have won the fight from the first time she laid eyes on me. Why would she do it only at the end? It doesn't make any sense."

"What the fuck does it matter?" Elizabeth said, extending a hand toward him.

Jonathan stared at her for a few seconds, as if he didn't understand what the gesture meant. But then he grabbed her, and she helped him up.

"The only thing that matters is that we're alive. That this can... must go on. Right?"

Jonathan nodded.

But he couldn't get it out of his mind.

The Assassins Sent by the Count, Part 3: FIN