Nos Faux Ratu Ch. 02

"No!" Jenna screamed, as He walked towards the door, intending to leave her alone in the dark. "I don't want --"

He spun and slapped her across the face. "You asked me to it," he reminded her. "You were the one who told me to send your father on to the Lord. Don't you dare deny your culpability."

"I didn't want . . . I just want to take it all back," she sobbed.

"You cannot take it back. It was your words that delivered all of them. They are in a better place now, free from their sins and yours. You will sit here pray for forgiveness for your weakness." He walked out and locked the door, plunging the room into darkness.

She wailed and pounded her hands against the ground until her fingers bled. The darkness did not answer her then. The stones did not comfort her. No one would ever comfort her, because to be close to Jenna meant torment. She had asked Him to kill her family when the notion of being alone was eclipsed by her inability to stand their gazes any longer. She was so alone.

The knowledge of what she had done climbed into hands and feet and crept through her bones and blood like unwelcome insects, and they devoured her warmth. The girl that she had always been slowly died in the floor of that church basement. She did not cry. She would not cry again. Ever. There was nothing left inside her that was capable of it. When he came back, there was nothing of Jenna left, so he decided to fill that void. He made her love Him. But even His love never fill what had been emptied.

Jenna came back into the present with a start. Something in her arm was itching. She tried to absently scratch it away, but it lingered. She just wanted to feel nothing again. She had no mission, no friends, and no future. She wanted her life to be over, or at least her semblance of a life. Not that she had much to worry about. If the Fool felt she had been treasonous, she would not be much longer for this world.

Outside, the Fool was talking with Death. "You are the only one who can make her see reason," the man in charge said. "Are you sure she did not tell you anything?"

"I don't know anything beyond what you just told me," Death replied calmly. That was technically true. Empress had not told the Fool anything different than what she had told Death, so the information was the same. "Still, incarceration? Do we really want to lose one of our best agents, particularly since there might be a new threat out there?"

"I would be willing to show leniency if she were to cooperate. Empress may be a cold fish, but she is not stupid nor is she insane. And what she showed me defies other explanation. Being able to incorporate the abilities of genuine vampires into our bioengineering could put us light years ahead of corporate special forces."

"Why not strike a deal with them rather than conquer them?"

"If we can make a deal with them, anyone will be able to. We must assess their numbers and their power --"

"And the best person to do that is currently sitting in a holding cell awaiting word that you're going to have her executed."

"I saw the look in her eyes, Death. The Empress will not cooperate. Being single-minded used to be an asset, but now it is a detriment. We will extract the information that she has and then dispose of her. She creeped me out anyway, so I'll be glad to be rid of her and promote someone else. You don't have a problem with that, do you?"

Without missing a beat, Death shook his head. "No sir. I'm your man."

"Good to hear. Let her stew for a little while, then we'll give her one last chance to cough up the info in exchange for a painless execution. Otherwise --" He left the idea trailing, then went back into his office.

Death watched the door closed. This was not what he had signed on for at all, but he had more political savvy than the Empress did. He could only imagine what was going through her head right now. He could not help but smile when he thought of how she had bested him. The Fool was being far too close to his namesake on this, but Death needed more time to think of a plan. That was why he had left a present for the Empress nearby. Hopefully she would think to use it.

Jenna's arm was still itching, but she could not tell the source. 'Well,' she thought, 'it's right where they cast the spell to control --' Her eyes narrowed. 'The sword. The dancing sword.' But she knew that it had been in the Fool's office, which was too far away. Why would he have moved it? Or did he?

Her icy heart beat a little faster. Death? Had Death intervened? But why? Regardless, she called out to the sword. If she was going to die, it would not be here. She would go home, and be with the spirits of her family when the time came. She felt the bond with the sword, and she pulled rapidly in her own direction. The cells had been designed to withstand anything, but the sword was enchanted. It was something that the builders of the base could not possibly have anticipated.

The sword came hurtling through the wall as if it were made of foil, the hilt finding its way to Jenna's hand. Did she really want to run? No. But she would.

The base alarms went haywire, and all available Arcana came rushing to the holding area.

"Holy shit! I knew she gave up too damn easy," the Fool muttered when he saw the Empress's cell. There was a hole cut through the back wall, and the room was empty. "How --"

"Maybe her new friends gave her a gift she did not tell you about?" Death suggested. It was so plausible that he himself might have believed it.

"Maybe. Wait, where's that damn sword?"

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Hours later . . .

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The Five of Swords had stopped to take a leak and was hurrying to catch the rest of his squad. This was the strangest night any of them had ever heard of. No one had explained why the Empress had walked in, apparently had a fight with Death, then was marched into the brig by the Fool. She then escaped by miraculous means, and now the entire Nightwalker program was out looking for her. And most of the Nightwalkers he knew were not sure if they wanted to find her. Only those of the Major Arcana could stand up to her in a straight fight, and only the Fool and the Hanged Man were considered better in hand-to-hand. The Fool was the boss, but the Hanged Man was the Nightwalker's enforcer. No one had ever seen his face.

He was getting ready to exit the alley where he had relieved himself when a hand reached around him and covered his mouth. More hands grabbed him and hauled him back into the darkness. He tried to shout for help, but whoever had him was too fast. The smell of some kind of dog filled his nostrils and the sound of growling filled his ears. He was stripping of his guns and forced to his knees.

A man appeared in front of him, and he looked like all kinds of business. He wore a tailored suit, had dark hair, thigh eyebrows, and his eyes . . . oh, those were terrible. They actually seemed darker than the shadows around them.

"My name is Garon Pegg," the man said, "and you're going to tell me everything I want to know."

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To be continued . . .