Chapter 126: Chapter 126

Arthur’s metallic tones rippled through the air and water, splintering the wood of the boats and knocking Bran back from the sheer force of it.

"I tire of this game," said Arthur. "If you will not willingly submit to your superior, then you leave me no choice."

He held out a hand, with the palm up, and Bran had only a fraction of a second to duck the blow as yet more wood splintered behind him.

Bran squeezed the handles of both daggers, feeling their weight and adjusting their angle.

No, it was only over when he gave up, he told himself.

Arthur raised his hand again and Bran tried to calm himself, to try to think of a way out, anyway out.

Then came a glimmer out of the corner of his eye. Had it been anything else, he would have ignored it given how trying his current situation was, yet, whatever it was, took a firm hold of his attention and forced him to look.

The patch of water by the boat gleamed then suddenly broke as a long metal contraption thrust up through the surface.

It was a sword, and one held aloft by a human hand.

Bran didn’t think. Instead, he rolled to the side, dropping both daggers and avoiding Arthur’s blow and getting himself closer to the water, then rose and reached out with a desperate hand. The source of thɪs content is novel(ꜰ)ire.net

Cold metal, warm skin.

Bran grasped the sword and felt renewed power flow through him, filling him with resolve and the will to fight on.

He strengthened his grip with his right hand then, with his left, took an expert hold of the pommel, using that familiar grip to swing the sword round in a large circle.

He felt resistance as the blade hit that invisible barrier around Arthur... then continue as as the barrier shattered.

Arthur’s eyes widened and he took a hasty step back, barely dodging the blade, though it still manage to snag the edge of his shirt, slicing a clean line through it.

The force of the basin pushing me away threw me against the far wall, knocking the wind from me, but I couldn’t complain. I’d gotten the sword to you and I knew you’d make good use of it, more than I ever could.

I coughed and took a well earned moment to catch my breath before thinking about what to do now.

Then came the sound of footsteps.

They echoed and seemed to be coming from the stairwell. It could have been anyone, going to any one of the lower flats, but what were the chances of that, really? So far, there had not been a single person in this memory, other than me, and it seemed logical to me that the only other person in it should be Artemis himself.

I looked around then made for a cabinet, hoping to stow myself away inside, only to discover that it had shelves and absolutely no space to hide a fully grown human male.

I snapped the doors shut and looked around again. There was a set of stairs off in a dark corner of the room, very odd considering this should have been a single apartment but welcome. I made for the stairs and was up them before Artemis, or whoever it was, came in.

There was luckily no door at the top of the stairs. Not so luckily, there was only a single room, a study from the looks of it, and that limited my hiding options significantly. Still, it was better than nothing.

Then my eye came across a piece of furniture that was sure to not have so many shelves - a standing wardobe.

I quickly yanked open the door and dove into the many layers of long, long coats and jackets, then, with a moment of awkward floundering, got the door shut again.

I thought the inside of a wardrobe would have been darker, but it turned out there were ornate holes, or maybe carvings, on either door that provided anyone hiding inside a clear, though limited, view of the room. Lucky indeed.

The footsteps stopped and for a moment I thought I was in the clear, but then they started up again, this time coming up the stairs.

I’d picked the exact wrong place to hide. Lucky indeed...

Artemis was on the phone as he entered the study. Though I didn’t know what he was talking about, my Cantonese study had not been going well, I could tell the guy wasn’t too pleased with whatever the situation was.

He was wearing a jacket and, after he’d hung up is phone in a huff, I worried that he might be thinking about hanging it up in the wardrobe. I did not think I could squeeze into a corner and not be seen. The wardrobe wasn’t that big.

But instead of taking off the jacket, Artemis instead went straight to the desk at the other end of the room and collapsed into the chair, eyes closed and body limp. He looked exhausted and I might, in another life, have had felt sorry for him, but as it stood I was starting to get tired standing stock still inside the wardrobe.

The inside compartment of the wardrobe wasn’t exactly small, but Artemis’ collection of coats and jackets was extensive, which resulted in me having very little space to exist in while also being able to see out the convenient holes.

As the time wore on, however, and the more Artemis started to potter about his desk, checking this book, looking for that pen, I decided that I might as well try sitting down. It didn’t look like he was about to do anything interesting and the wood of the wardrobe’s door was thin enough that I could hear every squeak of his chair. if he got up and started walking around, I’d definitely know about it.

So without much more thought, I sat.

I don’t know what I sat on, but whatever it was, it creaked something awful and I quickly straightened. Hoping I hadn’t just given myself away, I peered through the little holes and saw that I really should be going out to harvest some luck for myself - Artemis was staring in my general direction.

"Colin," the man called out.

I silently cursed my laziness and held my breath. There was no other noise in the place.

"Colin?" Artemis called out again as he got up. He picked up an umbrella he had leaning against the desk and held it out like a weapon as he edged round the table toward the door.

And to the surprise of both Artemis and me, there came the sound of footstep then a hooded man entered the room.

Artemis sighed and put the umbrella down. "What do you want, Morgan? I’ve had a trying day, people tailing me, so I ask you not to do anything stupid." His eyes narrowed. "You haven’t been followed, have you?"

The man laughed and dropped the hood. "Of course not," he replied. "It was me following you."

Artemis’ scowl deepened. "Why?"

Morgan held out a hand. "Return the crystal. Arthur’s orders."

I saw Artemis still had his hand on the handle of the umbrella and I saw how his fingers slowly curled round it again. "There’s no need to go that far," he said. "I’ll get Misha. I can do it. I just need a little more time..."

I flinched at the mention of my name and felt a stab of dread as I finally realised what was going on.

Morgan sighed and turned his hand over. "Look, I don’t make the decisions," he said then suddenly flexed his fingers into a disturbing look claw.

"You-!" Artemis gasped, his face turning pink then white, as he clutched at his chest. He fell to the ground, writhing and I had to cover my mouth with my hands to stop myself from crying out.

The writhing became twitching and the wet sobs died away, until Artemis lay completely still, like a puppet with cut strings.

Morgan sighed and relaxed his hand.

I expected Artemis to awaken, to spring back to life, but he remained still. Deathly still.

No... What? Artemis had been killed? Hadn’t he faked his death? Or did this memory come from a lot later...?

Morgan reached into his coat and pulled out a long, glass tube. Inside it floated something iridescent that swirled and reflected rather mesmerizingly in the light. The man uncorked the end and the thing rushed out.

A wail sprung up and the papers and lighter objects in the room started to swirl around the room like a tornado had just landed, all following in the path of that strange swirling liquid. It bobbed about a food in front of Morgan and almost seemed to extend a head to look in my direction...

"Hey," Morgan said, clicking his fingers. He pointed at Artemis’ body on the floor.

The swirling liquid snapped back then fell upon it, expanding to an impossible size, covering everything.

Morgan took a step back.

I’m not sure how to describe the sound of Hungry Ghost devouring something, but it’s not a sound I’m likely to forget. It’s wet and squelchy, yet also metallic like someone rubbing steel together.

I felt sick, really sick as I stood there in the wardrobe unable to scream or look away.