“I don’t see why I have to clean out that closet,” Jamie moaned, trailing along behind Mrs. Fensworth. “It was Jenner and Aerika and Khristian that knocked everything around.”

“What has gotten into you, child?” Mrs. Fensworth asked, not bothering to look behind her as they walked. “It’s your job. It’s what Jenner is paying you for.”

“I know, I just. I just know they’re leaving soon and I’m going to miss them.”

“They’re not leaving for good. They’ll be back.”

“You think so?”

“Don’t even think such things, Jamie!” Mrs. Fensworth said, stopping in the hall and looking at Jamie with a hurt expression.

“That’s not what I meant, I’m sorry.” Jamie said, apologizing. “So you think they’ll come back here after they're done wherever it is they’re going?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Jamie didn’t have an answer, so she just shrugged her shoulders.

“You spent all day with them. Why do you think you have so many chores to do at such an hour?” Mrs. Fensworth went on to say. She nodded as they reached the door to the spare living room. “Now once you’re done here, make sure you take the spare linens to the wash room and then help Rachel finish up the rest. Don’t think I haven’t seen the slip in quality from you three since those two showed up.”

“Yes, Mrs. Fensworth.”

Jamie watched as Mrs. Fensworth's figure disappeared down the hall, then opened the door to begin her cleaning. She sighed, seeing a chair knocked over. She walked over and bent down to pick up the chair.

“Better hurry, or I won’t hear the end of it from Rachel.”

Jamie’s head snapped forward as the pommel of Brenna’s dagger connected against the back of her skull. Her body went limp and she collapsed on the chair, Brenna helping ease her to the ground to cut down on the noise. She dragged Jamie over to the secret door, opened it, then pulled her inside, closing the door behind her, then opening the door to the stairwell. She shut that door behind her then walked down the steps, letting Jamie’s body drag across the steps like a child dragging a toy doll. Once at the bottom, she stripped Jamie out of her clothes, then bound her tight with ropes. She pulled Jamie’s arms behind her back, hog-tying her. She then stripped out of her own clothes.

She shifted back to her normal form and knelt down next to Jamie. She forced Jamie’s mouth open with one hand then extended two fingers into the girls mouth, rubbing along her gums and under her tongue. She then withdrew the two fingers and placed them in her own mouth, sucking Jamie’s saliva off of them and swallowing. A few moments later she shifted, taking on a perfect likeness to Jamie.

She scanned the surface thoughts she could. Jenner, Khristian, Aerika, Mrs. Fensworth, Rachel. From the discussion she overheard, she assumed Khristian and Aerika were the two she was after, Rachel being one of the other maids.

She reached down and placed a sock in Jamie’s mouth, then secured it in place with a few pieces of rope. Then she put on the outfit Jamie had on, adjusting it. She hid her daggers on her person, then headed back upstairs, closing both doors behind her.

Easy enough, she thought. Now to find the two targets and be done with it. She picked up the duster and adjusted her apron. Looking around, she put the chairs back by the tables.

She stepped out into the hall and looked around, wishing she had the time to go back and use something that would provide better memories, but time was of the essence. In the end, she went off in the direction she had heard the other woman, Mrs. Fensworth go.

She walked down a few hallways, taking a left, then a right that led her to stairs going up. She passed an older Lanese gentlemen in the hall, who offered her a kind smile. She returned it, giving the man a slight bow, which seemed to work.

“Don be up too late, Jamie. Much to do tomorrow,” he said as he walked past her. She nodded and continued on her way. She passed a few suits of armor that she wished she could take with her, had the situation been different. She was admiring a particular bardiche on one when she heard a door opening behind her. She spun about.

“Oh, sorry Jamie, didn’t mean to startle you,” the man said. He was younger than the other gentleman, maybe early thirties. He had long black hair bound in a ponytail, and was dressed in fine garments.

“Be a dear and have Azt’ze fix me up a late night snack. Madeline didn’t answer her summons. I was going to go look for her, but since you’re here, please go down to the kitchen and let him know.”

“I was actually going to go see Khristian and Aerika off to bed,” she said, not sure how best to deflect the situation.

“It won’t take long, promise, then I’ll join you, what do you say? I’ll even share my snack with you,” the man said, flashing what she figured passed for a charming smile.

“Certainly, sir,” she said, curtsying.

“Are you all right, Jamie?” Jenner asked

“Why?”

“I told you never to call me sir. Jenner is perfectly suitable.”

“Sorry Jenner,” she said, hoping to diffuse the slip up, “I’m just tired is all.”

“Not to worry. I’ll just be in my study,” he said as he returned to the room.

She thought for a minute, looking to either direction. The house was much, much larger than she anticipated. If she ignored the man, she might not find the two before he got curious. Plus, if she played along, the fool would lead her right to them, and she could come back later.

She almost risked the luxury of shifting and just following the heated footprints of the man she passed in the hall, but once she went as far back as she could remember to where she passed him, the smells of the kitchen were not hard to follow.

She pushed the door open, walking into the kitchen. The dark skinned man from earlier was there, eating a bowl of something while he sat by what looked like a large blast furnace. She was impressed by the amount of modern inventions the house had at its disposal.

“I was ‘spectin Mrs. Fensworth,” the man said, pointing to four trays laid out with various fruits, grains and what looked to be a pitcher of milk and a glass.

“Jenner wanted a snack,” she said, smiling at the man.

“That’s it,’ he said again, pointing to the trays. “When I ‘eard the service bell, I jus' 'sumed that what was comin.”

“That’s a little snack,” She said, surprised.

“Lemme help carry it up,” the man said, getting up.

“I can handle it,” she said, taking a tray and placing it on her shoulder, then sliding on two more trays, one after the other, until her arm was held out straight, balancing all three trays. With her spare hand she picked up the tray of milk and glasses.

“. . .you sure you k’ miss Follet?” the old man said, looking with worry on Jamie.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, using her foot to push the door open.

She walked out, checking the hall, then picked up the pace a little, balancing the trays with perfect poise. She had little patience for domestic labor. She heard someone at the top of the steps as she approached, so she slowed her speed, taking the steps one at a time.

“Just bringing Jenner his snack,” she said, hoping to cut off any questions from the older woman.

“Very well,” the woman replied, carrying a hamper of clothes. She seemed in her own little world, but stopped about two steps down, turning about with a puzzled look on her face.

“Jamie?” she uttered, sounding doubtful.

Jamie sighed, turning about with a spin.

“Let me give these to Jenner before I spill them and I will be right back,” she said. Mrs. Fensworth nodded, watching in stunned silence as Jamie carried the trays down the hall.

“I didn’t know you had such an appetite,” Jamie said as she backed her way into the room, pushing the door open with her back, turning to keep the trays from clipping the door. She smiled at Jenner over her shoulder as she turned and carried them over to his desk. She began setting the food down when she noticed Jenner just watching her with a peculiar look.

“What?” she thought to herself, worrying what was amiss.

Jenner watched her, then he shifted his legs under the desk, his knee bumping it hard, causing it to move to the left, knocking into Jamie. Jamie had set three of the trays down, but she still held the tray with the pitcher and the two glasses. She lost her balance a second as the desk hit against her. The pitcher and glasses slid toward the edge. Jamie grabbed the pitcher with her other hand, then pulled her other hand out from under the tray and caught the two glasses between her thumb, pointer finger and index finger. She breathed out a sigh of relief, worried how mad the gentlemen would have gotten had she spilled the pitcher all over his books and ledgers.

“While your makeup is top notch, I must say your character study leaves much to be desired,” Jenner said as he tapped his foot three times in rapid succession on the service bell, reaching for the girl’s wrist. She let go of the pitcher and glasses, sliding back, then darting forward, a dagger having appeared in each hand. Jenner grabbed the edge of his desk and hefted it up and forward, flipping it on its side, then ducked down behind it, and rolled to his right. He saw the girl jump up on the desk's side, perching there. She then looked in his direction and let loose a dagger. Jenner grabbed his rapier off the wall, bringing it to bare in front of him in one fluid motion, catching the tip of the dagger on his cross guard, causing it to careen into the air, which he then grabbed with his right hand. By the time he looked back, the girl had another dagger in hand and was charging toward him. Jenner kicked out with one leg, causing the girl to hop up, falling short of connecting.

Jenner wasted no time, rolling again, to his right, punching the ground with his right hand to push him up a bit, getting his legs under himself and standing while keeping his front to the girl, who came forward with a double overhand slash. He knocked both swipes away with his own dagger, then brought the blade of his rapier across her chest.

She sucked in her breath, the blade tearing her dress. The tactic had been more to test her, but she came on after the attack passed.

“Tell me, who does your costume design?” Jenner asked, dancing to the side, keeping his rapier and dagger in front, working to keep the young girl at bay. “I could use someone with their talent at my playhouse.”

The girl had no response, pressing forward with a quick succession of thrusts, which Jenner knocked off target while continuing to backpedal towards the hall door. Her dagger work kept him moving side to side, and they traded blocked hits for a few moments while Jenner worked his way toward the exit. Then he found his opening and pushed back, the door swinging open hard, slamming into the hallway with a loud crack. The girl smiled, launching herself forward into the air. Jenner thrust his rapier out, but she caught the tip with one dagger, pushing it aside. Both her feet connected with Jenner’s chest, knocking the wind out of him and pushing him back against the wall. She followed up with a quick stab at his face, which he whipped his head back to avoid, before she pushed off, flipping back and landing a few feet away in the hallway, before charging back in, blades first.

Jenner kept a smile on his face, but he was beginning to worry. This girl had skill beyond her years.

“What the, Jenner?”

“Don’t ask, just hit her,” Jenner spat out, hearing Gregory’s voice behind him. He scooted to the side, both to give Gregory room and to dodge a swing from the girl.

Gregory saw his opening and charged in, swinging a huge weighted double headed axe over his head and bringing it down where the girl was standing. The girl moved like a snake, looking to almost slide back out of harm’s way. Splinters flew as the axe head crashed into the floor, digging in over a foot, boards crunching. The girl sprang up, hopped over the blade and landed on the handle, taking a step and kicking Gregory hard in the face. His yell was cut short as her foot connected with his chin, causing his head to snap backward, throwing him off balance. Her right hand went wide, parrying a stab and swing from Jenner, while her left hand cut across Gregory’s face, her dagger drawing a line of blood from brow to chin.

She continued her forward momentum, vaulting up and over Gregory, twisting in mid air, drawing both her daggers down the man’s back as she landed, then slammed the man towards Jenner. Jenner dropped his guard long enough to catch the man, but Gregory weighed a lot. Jenner fell back against the wall, sliding a bit, his head knocking against one of the lighting sconces. He winced as it came loose and fell, a small splash of lamp oil and fire hitting the carpet, springing to life, beginning to spread along the floor. The girl came onward, stabbing at Gregory's back. Jenner managed to get his rapier in the way from under Gregory’s arm, deflecting it a little, so the dagger caught Gregory in the shoulder instead.

Jenner swore, half pushing, half dropping Gregory to the side, trying to get himself between Gregory and the girl. She was pressing her advantage, her daggers coming in high and low, forcing Jenner to bring both weapons to bare, blocking wide. This continued until Jenner saw her guard drop, driving his dagger hard into the girl’s shoulder. She let slip a giggle, slamming one of her own daggers hard against his side. He lifted the guard of his rapier up a bit to cushion the hit, but still felt steel bite into his ribs. He slammed his knee into the girl’s stomach, using it to push off of her. He heard her dagger clatter to the floor, slipping from her wound. The arm hung limp.

“I think this game is. . .” he started, but the girl came on, swinging with her other arm. Her precision was unbridled. He lack of her arm made little difference. Jenner found himself working just as hard to keep her one hand at bay as he had when she was swinging two. He felt a sharp pain every time he blocked with his left arm, while the girl seemed unfazed by her wound.

He groaned, seeing Mrs. Fensworth coming down the hall opposite him, the girl in between. He began to regret sounding the alarm. While he gave the signal that indicated an emergency, drawing everyone to the threat had been a poor choice on his part. A mistake that he hoped would not cost everyone their life.

“No!”

The words left his lungs, but it was too late. The girl had followed Jenner’s eyes, turning and going into a roll, launching her dagger down the hall. She drew out another dagger before the first one found its target and launched that one as well. The first dagger caught Mrs. Fensworth dead center in her chest, the second one hit another nearby sconce, starting another fire down the hall. Mrs. Fensworth’s eyes went wide, clutching at the dagger as she slid to the floor.

The assassin was of two minds right now. Part of her was telling her to flee, but the aggressive part was telling her she could still finish her job. It was not going to plan, but she had to finish it at this point. Just end the man, so she could kill the others and then the two she sought.

Jenner came on, charging the girl, but stopped short, then lunged in with his rapier. She danced aside, moving forward alongside the blade to stab with her own dagger, which Jenner parried.

She let loose a growl of frustration as she saw an Ouran women running toward her from behind Jenner.

“Duck!” Fatima yelled, before leaping into the air, feet first. Jenner crouched as Fatima came flying overhead. The assassin swung with her dagger, but Fatima, shifted one leg, letting the dagger bounce harmlessly off a metal shin guard, slamming her other foot into the girl’s temple, sending her backward.

“Are you all right?” Fatima asked, watching the girl.

“I’ve had better days,” Jenner said, trying to turn to favor his good side.

“Jenner. . .”

He looked to where the girl was on all fours on the floor. The girl stood, then, to his surprise, her form started to change. Her skin became pale as her body grew taller and thinned and lengthened, her hair becoming a long pitch black color.

“An oblin?” he thought, his mind reeling. The creature stood, picking up its dagger, then cradling its other arm as it let the tendons reattach themselves, drawing another dagger from her outfit. It looked quite disturbing, still in the remnants of Jamie’s clothes, ripped and hanging loose on the assassin’s frame.

“Come, must work quick,” Fatima said, darting forward toward the adversary. Jenner nodded and came up behind her. The oblin smiled, holding a dagger with its thumb while pointing its fingers forward. They elongated several inches to sharp points. Fatima was moving too fast to dodge, so instead she threw her body backward, dropping to her knees. She saw the needles pass over her head as she looked up at the ceiling.

Jenner had more time to see the attack coming, and leapt up and over them. The assassin swung her body backwards at an unnatural angle as Jenner leveled his rapier and thrust. He kicked his feet down, but she was already gone, rolling backward out of his range.

The assassin stole a moment to glance around, working on the defensive, fending off the attacks of both combatants.

“You can try to kill me, or you can save your friends, but you can’t do both,” she hissed through a coy smile.

Jenner pressed on, but he knew she was right. The fires were creeping closer to both Mrs. Fensworth and Gregory’s prone forms. Fatima lunged, reigning a flurry of blows upon the assassin, most of which were dodged or blocked, the rest glancing off of her, causing minimal damage. Jenner took swings where he could, but the pain in his ribs was throbbing.

“You save them, I’ll finish here,” Fatima said, dancing forward and punching twice, followed by a series of kicks. The assassin swung with her daggers, but Fatima knocked them out of the way, kicking one arm down and deflecting the blade of another attack off her shin guard. Catching her by surprise, with both attacks knocked aside, the assassin stepped forward smashing her forehead into Fatima’s face. The acrobat reeled, clutching her nose, and the assassin saw fit to turn and flee down the hallway.

Fatima took off after her.

“Be careful,” Jenner said, watching the two run off before moving to Mrs. Fensworth. At first he thought she was unconscious, but as he kneeled down next to her and placed a hand on her forehead, she blinked her eyes open.

“It feels worse then it is,” he said, checking the wound. It hadn’t cut too deep. She’d be fine once he got her to a physician.

“Can you stand,” he asked her.

“I think so.”

“Good, up we go, then,” he said, putting one arm behind her back and holding one of her hands with his other, then helped her to her feet. He tore a sleeve off his shirt and put it in her hand.

“Keep this on the cut. It’s not fatal, but it’s going to bleed, so keep pressure on it,” Jenner instructed her, helping her down the hallway toward Gregory. The fire had worked its way along the walls and was covering the ceiling of the hall. It was also beginning to creep down the stairs at the end of the hall.

“Jenner, sir, what’s going on,” Azt’ze yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

“Unruly house guest, Azt’ze. Please take your leave, and let the watch know there’s a fire at the Ripalst mansion, on your way out.

“Sir, I. . .,” Azt’ze began.

“Just go, Azt’ze. Go to house where the theater troupe is at.”

“Yessir.”

“Stand here just a minute, I need to check on Gregory,” Jenner told Madeline.

“I’ll be fine Jenner. I can make it down the steps.” she said.

“Good girl, Madeline,” he said, giving her a smile.

“Jenner, the girls? Khristian and Aerika?” Mrs. Fensworth said.

“As soon as I get the two of you down the stairs, it’s my next concern.”

“But what about that girl. Where’d she go?”

“Fatima is keeping her occupied at the moment.”

“Who was she?”

“Madeline?” Jenner said, exacerbated. She stopped herself, blushing, then started down the steps. Jenner grabbed Gregory by the shoulders and dragged him toward the steps, away from where the fire was spreading.

“Come on you big lug, wake up. I’ve seen kittens leave deeper cuts.”

Jenner checked his nose and it appeared to be broken. He was not an expert, but the angle looked off. He tried slapping him a bit, but all Gregory did was groan.

“Sorry, but you'll thank me for this when you live to tell about it,” Jenner said as he gripped Gregory’s nose in one hand and straightened it.

“AAAHHhhhh Mother!” Gregory yelled as be spasmed on the ground, his hands going to his crushed nose. “What you go and do that for?”

“If you hadn’t noticed, the place is burning down around us. Can you stand?”

“Course,” Gregory said, pushing off of Jenner, getting to his feet. He wiped a sleeve across the bottom of his nose, soaking up some of the blood. “What happened to Jamie, sir?”

“That wasn’t Jamie in the hall, but it does make me worry what happened to our Jamie.”

“Well what are we waiting for? Let’s get everyone out of here.”

“You are going to help Mrs. Fensworth get out, and then get the watch if Azt’ze hasn’t already alerted them.”

“Sure, Jenner.”

Jenner saw them to the steps, a bit more relieved to see Melanie coming up to help Mrs. Fensworth with the last few. Gregory came down the steps to help as well. Melanie looked up. She had tears in her eyes.

“I can’t find Jamie anywhere. She wasn’t in our room. Rachel hasn’t seen her. . .”

“Where’s Rachel, Melanie?”

“She was in the wash room, finishing up some of the laundry.”

“Help Mrs. Fensworth and Gregory, Melanie.” He said, turning back to the hall. “Wait, have you seen Khristian or Aerika?”

“They were in their rooms last I saw them.”

“Thank you dear. Gregory, take them. . .”

“. . .to the troupe house, I know sir.”

Jenner set off back down the hallway, sticking to the left side and ducking down as he went. The fire had spread into some of the rooms off the hallways, and was burning out through a few of the courtyard windows.

The mansion was burning to the ground. The fire was spreading fast, and once it hit the other wings, there would be more fire then people to put it out in time.

His main worries were Khristian, Aerika and Rachel. When he reached the end of the hall, he gave a small sigh of relief. He saw more knocked over sconces to the right, which gave a pretty good indication of which way the fight went. He turned left and ran as fast as he could down to where Khristian and Aerika’s rooms were.

He walked into Khristian’s room, to find the both of them there, chatting. Aerika lying in bed and Khristian lying on a few blankets on the floor.

“Jenner, what. . .you are bleeding,” Khristian said, concern in his voice.

“Yes, It happens from time to time. We have to get out of here. Now.”

Aerika and Khristian both got up. Aerika pulled on her clothes over her pajamas, while Khristian grabbed a few bags.

“What’s in those?” Jenner asked.

“Our things for our trip in two weeks,” Khristian said.

“You have them packed already?” Jenner said, impressed.

“No reason not to,” Khristian said, shouldering his and Aerika’s bag. Once Aerika was dressed she joined the other two and they headed out.

“Best go to the stables, fastest way out of here,”

“J. .Jenner,” Aerika murmured, backing away as she saw the fire consuming the the end of the hallway.

“We’re not going that way, don’t worry,” he said, leading the two of them further down the hall in the opposite direction.

“What happened,” Khristian asked, glancing over his shoulder at the growing inferno.

“No time to explain everything. Let’s just say I think the assassin didn’t think you two were as dead as we had hoped.”

He led them to the end of the hall, where they took a right and then entered one of the spare bedrooms.

“Jenner, we are up a floor, how are going to get to the stables from here?” Khristian asked.

“Out the window. The stables are right below. We’ll land on the roof and go from there,” Jenner explained as he pulled the curtains wide, opening the window. He saw no signs of the watch. He hopped out the window onto the roof of the stables, then helped Khristian and Aerika through. Then they made it to the edge and Jenner dropped down the ten feet. Khristian tossed their bags down to Jenner and followed, Aerika jumping down after.

“You two get your things in the carriage. I’ll get the horses ready,” Jenner said, walking around the carriage house to the stables. Khristian carried their bags over to the carriage, while Aerika opened the door for him. He hefted one bag in, then the other. Aerika stepped up and climbed inside, and Khristian followed behind her, pulling the carriage door shut once they were both inside. Aerika opened the window on the other side, watching Jenner lead the horses around. She could make out the sound of the bells the watch used for fire alarms.

“What do we do now?” Aerika asked, watching Jenner attach the horses to the front of the carriage.

“We make a quick stop to pick up Gregory and make sure the rest have enough funds until we get back. Then we head for Hallon’s Hold.” Jenner said, checking the reins on the two horses. With everything looking good, he walked over to the gates and swung them open, then came over to the side of the carriage and jumped up front. He grabbed the reins and gave a crack, sending them forward into the night.

* * *

The assassin turned and fled down the hall, taking every opportunity to reach out and knock a sconce loose whenever she saw one. She started to turn the right corner at the end of the hall when her feet were knocked out from under her, Fatima sliding into her legs from behind. She sheathed both daggers as she fell forward, then used her hands to brace the fall. Fatima was on her in an instant. She felt the nimble woman jump on her back, wrapping her arms around hers, holding them behind her back. The assassin rolled to the left. She tried to kick free, but Fatima had her legs wrapped around her thighs, keeping movement difficult. She shifted to Brenna, freeing her legs and her short arms slipping out of the lock, then pushed herself off Fatima’s body, shifting back to herself in the process.

“Demon!” Fatima yelled, spinning on her back, catching the assassin’s knee. Fatima continued to spin, then kicked her feet up and propelled herself up into a crouching position. The assassin rolled away, getting up and continued her escape down the hallway, catching another sconce before taking a left, Fatima fast on her heels.

Fatima darted forward with a burst of speed, grabbing the creature by the back of her shirt. She then ran hard, jumping and letting her feet connect with the hallway wall. She took four steps, her momentum carrying her forward, getting in front of the assassin, then pivoting and yanking with all her might.

Her strength plus the weight of her body was too much for the assassin, and she hurtled head first, her feet leaving the ground. Fatima landed on her feet as the assassin flew overtop of her. The assassin withdrew her daggers, going into an awkward front roll when she landed, then slamming hard into the wall at the end of the hallway. She got her hands up in time to deflect one of Fatima's feet, but the other one hit her square in the face, cracking her skull hard against the wall. The assassin saw an explosion of lights in her periphery vision, and cursed.

She was growing worried. She had planned on wearing out her combatant, so that she could obtain all of her skills, but the woman’s endurance seemed to rival her own. Valuable time was being wasted, and her prey could still be nearby. She had to finish this.

She focused. A foot came at her again. This time she dropped both her daggers and grabbed it, then twisted with all her might. Fatima responded just as fast, twisting her body in the same direction, going into a spin, which freed her foot from the assassin’s grip. The assassin was up, daggers in hand again, and made for a side door, which turned into a small hallway with steps leading down. She took them three at a time, hearing Fatima enter the stairwell behind her.

“Crazy fool!” the assassin thought as she felt Fatima’s body collide with her own. The martial artist had thrown herself down the stairs. The assassin lost her footing, as the two took a tumble down the remaining steps. They ended in a tangled mess at the bottom of the stairs. Fatima already had her arms and legs wrapped around the assassin’s body, this time in a much tighter lock, her arms and legs much closer to the assassin’s body, compensating if she tried the same trick.

The assassin shifted again, but this time into a towering giant of a man. Her clothes strained and then ripped along the seems. She shrugged, tossing the acrobat of her like a annoying insect. She kicked at her, Fatima catching the foot with her hands, but the force of the blow sent her sliding across the floor into some chairs. The assassin then got to her feet, shifting back, running out of the room into another, her shirt hanging in tatters around her neck. She turned and went right, cutting into another small room, hearing Fatima's footsteps again behind her.

“What's going on out there?” a voice from the room ahead called out. The assassin ran full tilt onwards.

Rachel was carrying a handful of shirts when she came around the corner to see what all the commotion was. She had seconds to process the figure charging towards her. Rachel managed to drop the garments before the assassin was on her.

The assassin swung her right arm in an upwards arc, driving her fist and the blade of her dagger into the girls stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She then stabbed her left arm forward, burying her dagger to the hilt in the girl’s throat. She pushed forward with both weapons, pushing the girl aside, running by her without missing a step, drawing out both blades as she went by, running out the other side of the room.

Rachel blinked, before she wondered why she had trouble drawing breath and her knees grew weak. Fatima dashed into the room, catching Rachel as she collapsed to the floor, clutching at her throat, looking up at Fatima with a desperate plea in her eyes.

“Help me,” Rachel sputtered, blood seeping out of the corner of her mouth as blood spilled down out of her neck and stomach, staining the front of her outfit.

Fatima swalowed a scream. She examined the wound and knew there was nothing she could do to help her. The injury was fatal. The assassin was getting away.

Fatima swallowed back tears as she looked at Rachel and said, “I’m sorry,” before letting the girl slip from her hands and taking off down the hall after the assassin.

Rachel whimpered, sliding to the ground, rolling over onto her stomach, reaching out a hand toward Fatima as she ran off. Then her strength gave out and she slumped forward. Tears filled her eyes. Then her vision faded around the corners, growing dark. The last thing she saw was her blood spreading out on the floor from the hole in her throat.

The assassin ran through the washroom, into what looked like a storage room, and then into a room that had no doors, only a few chairs, a table, an easel, and windows. The split second she took to make a decision cost her, as she heard Fatima let out a scream right behind her. She spun and put her arms up for the incoming kick, but was surprised to see Fatima diving at her hands first. Fatima grabbed both of the assassin’s wrists and pulled down, then slammed the top of her head into the assassin’s face. They collided backwards to the floor, but Fatima was already punching. The assassin turned and moved her head as best she could, but she suffered a half dozen blows, bruising her features. She shifted into the strong man again, grabbing a hold of the acrobat and tossing her off him. She got up and grabbed the table, hefting it over her head and took a few steps forward, towering over Fatima’s prone form. Fatima smiled up at the giant, before bracing her hands on the floor then kicking up with both legs, driving the heels of her feet into the man’s crotch.

The assassin lost her concentration, the exquisite pain causing her knees to buckle. She managed to swing the table backwards and clear her head as her body shifted back, quelling the pain, but the memory of it still shook her. Fatima sprung up off her back and kicked out, causing the assassin to stumble backward and fall over the table. Fatima jumped up and over, kicking down, driving her feet toward the assassin's stomach. The assassin reached out and caught her feet, and pushed them aside, causing Fatima to fall. One of the table legs broke as the side of her head connected with it.

The assassin swung with her fists, but Fatima rolled to safety. She sprang up and reached for a dagger, but realized the ones hidden on her skirt were lost when she first shifted to the strong man and almost everything had ripped off. She cursed again. Instead she turn and ran toward a window. She looked back to see Fatima up and after her. At the last second, she turned to face Fatima, throwing a weak punch. Fatima knocked her hand wide and then collided into her, wrapping her arms around the assassin’s body as the two of them careened into the wall, glass shattering as their bodies went through the window together.

The assassin grabbed Fatima by the throat and squeezed hard, pressing her nails into the woman’s neck. Then she lengthened her fingers to sharp points and pulled hard with both arms.

Their bodies hit the ground, Fatima’s head hitting the ground a moment later, bouncing once before rolling to a stop a few feet away.

* * *

“What was that?”

Aerika sat forward in the carriage, looking out the window as they went in motion.

“What was what?” Khristian asked, looking at Aerika with concern.

“It sounded like glass shattering.”

“Probably from the fire, the windows getting heated and shattering.”

“But it sounded nearby. . .” Aerika murmured, looking out into the night.

Jenner whipped the horses, coming around the side toward the front of the mansion, to where they could take to the road. He looked to see his family home burning, sighing at the memories.

“Jenner, hurry!” Aerika screamed.

“Don’t worry, girl. The fire won’t get us out here,” Jenner said, trying to calm the girl.

“No, Jenner, over there, look over there,” Aerika yelled, hanging out the window, pointing to the front right side of the mansion. A figure stood up, its pale white skin bright in the night, the fire raging on the floor above, bathing the foliage in a ghost light. At her feet, Jenner could make out the body of Fatima, the acrobat’s head a few feet to the side, the eyes wide open, staring in frozen shock.

The assassin’s head lifted, drawing line of sight to the carriage, then bolted forward. Jenner snapped the reigns harder, urging the horses into a gallop. They sped forward faster, making for the gate at an angle. They sped along, but the assassin was faster. Khristian leaned forward in his seat and grabbed Aerika, pulling her away from the window. He bolted the door shut and swung the shutters on the inside, flipping the latch in place.

The horses made the gate, cutting a sharp turn, causing the carriage to bounce and skid, fishtailing several feet as the horses pulled it onward. The reckless charge scattered a dozen watch who had come running. They dove out of the way as the rampaging carriage careened through their midst.

The assassin ran and leapt, her feet landing on the rear struts, grabbing onto the back of the carriage. Inside, Aerika and Khristian heard something hit the back behind them.

“Jenner, it’s on the carriage!” Aerika screamed from inside.

“Beautiful,” Jenner said, talking to himself. He looked at the road then guided the horses towards the north gate. The troupe house lay to the east, but stopping there no longer seemed like a good idea. He worked the horses into a full gallop.

The ride was rough, but the assassin had ridden worse. She made her way up the back of the carriage one footstep at a time, picking secure handholds and shimmying up when the bouncing of the carriage permitted. She was almost to the roof when Jenner took a sharp right, the carriage skidding across a few feet of cobblestone road, the assassin losing her footing, but catching the back step of the carriage with her hands. She let out a shriek as her feet and knees dragged along the stone road. She forced herself to concentrate and shifted to a small child, shortening her body till she was hanging from the back of the carriage, then pulled herself up and sat on the back, holding on, before shifting back to normal. The damage to her skin was knitting itself back together by the time she turned and began her ascent again.

Jenner looked back, unable to tell if their uninvited guest was still there. He was glad it was late, the roads empty. He kept the horses running in a zig-zag pattern, trying to give the assassin as hard a time as he could, if it was still there. Inside Aerika and Khristian sat together, leaning against one another. Aerika was holding Khristian’s hand with both of her own. They tried to listen, but it was hard to hear anything over the sound of the wheels of the carriage speeding along the stony road.

“I am going to take a look,” Khristian said, trying to get up without loosing his balance.

“Don’t you dare,” Aerika said.

“Not out the window. I am just going to see if I can see anything out the rear slit.”

The carriage had a small opening at the back, above the seats, an inch tall and several inches across. It served as a way to check if anyone was following, and the added benefit of keeping the inside occupants cool in the hot summer.

“Khristian,” Aerika bemoaned, her voice quavering. She wanted to cry, but another part of her was tired of crying. She had seen Fatima there, dead, lying on the mansion grounds. Now Khristian was nearing where the assailant was last seen. Aerika worried the walls of the carriage were not thick enough to protect them.

Khristian ignored her, going to their bags which occupied the back seats. He dug out his crossbow and loaded a handful of the alchemical darts into the guide, then set the pull. He climbed low on the back seat, knocking their bags to the floor, coming up from under the slit.

It was difficult to see anything. It was shadowy and dark, the night obscuring his vision. He crept up a little more, trying to look straight out the back, but still he saw nothing.

“I think it might be gone,” he said to Aerika, leaning in more, his eyes inches from the slit, trying to get at an angle so he could peer down.

“Aaarrgghh!”

Khristian garbled a yell as he fell back from the window, clutching his face. Aerika screamed. She jumped out of her seat to the floor, where Khristian fell to. His right eyelid was bleeding, a tear at the corner, and he had two small puncture marks in his right cheek, blood dripping out.

“I told you not to look,” Aerika said, hysterical. She helped him to his feet and they huddled again in the middle of the seat opposite the back. Khristian held his crossbow in his right hand, his other hand stemming the flow of blood from his cheek.

“It’s still there,” Aerika screamed as loud as she could, hoping Jenner heard her.

Outside, Jenner winced, hearing Aerika loud and clear. He wondered if they noticed the front of the carriage had a slit as well. He urged the horses onward, as they drove out of the gates of Caulment. The cobblestones gave way to dirt, making for a less bumpy ride. Jenner looked ahead and estimated how much longer he had to wait. They had about five minutes of winding trail to navigate before the road opened out into several miles of straightforward travel. He stood up, jumping up onto the seat and stood while steering, trying to get a look at the assassin.

“She’s moving,” Aerika yelled, as they saw a white pale humanoid shape pass across the slit in the back. Jenner looked back, seeing the assassin’s black hair whipping around in the wind, her ivory figure cresting the back of the carriage. Jenner felt a shiver run down his spine, her exposed body making the encounter much more creepy and surreal. Its white eyes glared at Jenner from across the roof.

Jenner glanced ahead and breathed a sigh of relief. He turned sideways, so he could keep tabs on both the road and the assassin. The path started to bend and curve, which he steered the horse along, keeping them to the safe confines of the road. The assassin lowered itself to the carriage, taking advantage of the position to hold on while the carriage shook, going at a breakneck speed around the turns. The assassin tried to throw her wait into the turn once, hoping to tip the carriage over, but her natural form was too light, and she was physically taxed from having to shift forms so much today.

They came out of the cluster of trees and hit the plains that gave way to the mountain pass to Hallon’s Hold. Jenner wrapped the reins around the center support beam of the seat, making as even a pull on both reins as he could, ensuring the horses would more or less follow a straight line. He looped the end of the reins though themselves and pulled it tight, then withdrew his rapier and jumped onto the roof of the carriage. He was sore, and the pain in his side had turned to numbness, but he was out of options. It was too fast for them on foot. He just had to knock it off the carriage.

He tried to get the jump on it, but the assassin scaled the back as fast as he did. Its long black hair danced around its lithe form, making its upper torso waver in his vision. He switched his rapier to his other hand, so he could cover his injury with his free hand, then advanced with caution.

The assassin came forward, both its hands elongated into needled points. It sliced and knifed the air, Jenner deflecting and countering, but the creature had the advantage, two hands to his one. He lamented his weapon of choice for the situation. It was hard to beat back an attacker with a glorified pigsticker, and the creature’s wounds seemed to knit themselves back together any time he managed to stab the thing. One of the few times he wished he burdened himself with a shield.

The assassin feigned and then came in from the right, stabbing at his wounded side. He pivoted at the last moment, but a bump in the road sent him off balance, and he found himself on his back. It was on him. He felt her knees slam into his chest. He dropped the rapier and grabbed at her wrists as they came toward his face.

“Die!” she said, leaning into him. Jenner grunted, his arms bent, trying to keep her bladed fingers from his body. She stared into his eyes, her eyes staring through his forehead.

The assassin shifted her weight, her fingers switching from pointing at his neck to his chest. He tried to brace his elbows against the roof of the carriage, but realized to late that her fingers were longer then the space bracing his arms would take. Jenner let a groan escape his lips as the tips of her fingers dug through his shirt, piercing his skin.

“We have to do something,” Aerika said, looking at Khristian, hearing Jenner’s moan from above them. Khristian nodded his sentiment.

“Stay there, do not move,” Khristian cautioned her as he got up and went to the window on the right side, undoing the latch. Then he lifted himself and turned, sitting on the bottom of the window. It was dark, but the moonlight illuminated everything he needed to see. Khristian leaned to the side to get his arm holding the crossbow out the window. He used his other hand to grab the top of the carriage, pulling himself up as much as he could. He could see Jenner fighting for his life, the assassin straddling his chest, sinking her bladed hands into his chest.

Khristian took a deep breath, lifted his crossbow, taking aim, then let out a scream, waiting to see if the creature turned to look in his direction.

The yell startled the both of them, Jenner lifting his head to spot Khristian over the side of the carriage. The assassin looked around as well.

He squeezed the trigger in rapid succession, firing off the five bolts held in the firing chamber. The first was high, but the second caught the assassin in her left eye. The next three caught her in the cheek and mouth, one coming out the back of her throat to disappear off into the night.

She had time to blink before the darts exploded, blowing holes into her head. Jenner felt the woman go limp, her hands sliding from his chest. He got both feet under her as she fell forward and kicked out as hard as he could, sending her off of him and over the back of the carriage. Her body bounced like a rag doll when it hit the ground, rolling a dozen feet before coming to a stop.

“Excellent timing,” Jenner managed to spit out, minus his usual nonchalance. He rolled over and crawled back toward the front of the carriage, sliding and falling back down to the driver’s seat, and regaining the reigns. Khristian dropped his crossbow back in through the window, leaning in to let Aerika know everything was okay, then climbed out the window to the roof to follow Jenner.

“Should we make sure it is dead?” Khristian asked.

“Probably not, because it probably isn’t,” Jenner said, whipping the horses back up to speed. “I tangled with that thing in the mansion, and its wounds closed up as soon as I opened them. I’m hurt, and I don’t know what will kill it. We need to get away from it.”

“But will it just follow us,” Khristian countered.

“Most likely, but again, the only difference between fighting it now and fighting it later is we might be able to find someway to make it stay dead if we fight it later.”

“Do we even know what it is?” Khristian asked.

“I have a good guess. I don’t think I’ll have any luck in Hallon’s Hold, but once we get to Balthwell, I should be able to find the answers I need.”

“We’re not going back? What about the others, are they alright? What about Gregory? I thought he was going to help?”

It was Aerika. She had found the front slit, eavesdropping on Khristian and Jenner’s conversation up until now. Khristian looked down under the seat between his legs to see her face looking out through the opening.

“That’s a terrible idea, and I’ll tell you why. Whatever that is, it’s looking for us. If we go back, we just put them in danger. We want to put as much distance between it and us as we can. Everyone made it out safely.”

“Fatima didn’t,” Aerika said, her voice trailing off.

“I know, dear, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have made it to you two without her help. A lot of us wouldn’t have escaped if she hadn’t shown up when she did.” Jenner looked to Khristian. “Do you think you can get back in the same way you got out here?” Khristian nodded, getting up, crawling back across the carriage roof, then letting himself down the side and back in through the open window. He shut the latch behind him.

“We have a lot of miles until the hold, and I plan to put in as many as possible tonight. Try to get some rest.”

“Yes Jenner,” he heard Khristian say. Khristian reached up to the center of the carriage ceiling, and turned the lamp low. It gave a little light, but nothing that could be seen from far away. He tossed his bag onto the floor of the carriage and then laid down as best he could. Aerika crawled off her seat and lay down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. It was a little cramped, but it was more room then sleeping on the seats, and at least they could not fall off the floor while they were sleeping. Neither of them felt sleepy, but they did feel tired. After several minutes, the shaking carriage managed to rock them both to sleep.

Jenner was tired himself, but he had to push on. The wound in his chest seemed to have stopped bleeding. He praised the many people who made trips on the path to keep the road well traveled, and easy to follow. He wanted to be halfway to the hold by morning. He looked once over his shoulder at the road behind him, then turned forward, gave another encouraging shake of the reins, and never looked back.

* * *

The problem with her power was that it made her conscious before her wounds could start healing. She came to, skull still shattered, gasped, asphyxiated and passed out again. She would have eight, maybe ten seconds to kick and spasm, her body taking care of the broken bones suffered from the fall, and attempting to close the holes in her head, before she would die again, passing out for ten minutes before her body started knitting itself back together.

The first several times were the worst, the hole in the back of her throat causing her to die in moments. Once she had revived enough times that her cursory wounds had begun to close, and the back of her neck healed up, she focused on trying to control her motor skills and extract the pieces of crossbow bolts from her mouth and head. She got her hands closer each time, her body failing her as the wounds killed her again, her body unable to heal right with the pieces still lodged in her. She managed to pick most of the remnants out of her mouth before she passed out again.

The sun was just cresting the horizon by the time she managed to find the other parts lodged in her skull. She screamed with renewed pain each time fingers touched brain. She collapsed back to the road, the pain subsiding at last, her body already fixing the wounds in her head. She laid there for as long as she dared, panting in the morning light.

She tried to pull herself to her feet, but one of her hips was still broken, as well as both her ankles. Her body was taxing itself and she had nothing to eat to help speed things along. Instead she looked around and began dragging herself by her arms towards a forest to the west. She needed to get away from the road.

She hurt all over and just wanted to lie there, but had to keep going. Her pale white skin was a stark contrast to the lush grass, and would draw anyone’s attention passing by.

When she reached the forest, she let out a derisive chuckle, almost crying, but coming out as a laugh. Then she pulled herself out of sight, across the bed of dried pine needles that blanketed the forest floor. Once she felt she was far enough in, she rolled over onto her back and stared up at the canopy, wincing only slightly as the pine pressed against her fair skin. It would take time to get back to full health.

She had no money. She had no weapons. Her equipment was either at her room in the inn or destroyed in the fire. And she was as naked as a babe. None of this pointed to pursuit. She rolled her head to the left, looking back in the direction of Caulment.