English Controlled Assessment;

Short Story

She knew she was in trouble as soon as she turned the corner. SMACK! She'd run headfirst into a brick wall. Typical. Feeling pretty sure her nose was broken she turned to face her fate. Frantically twisting, she searched for a weapon, for anything. Her powers were no use to her now, not against him. He rounded the corner and cocked his head to the side. There was no way out. She was cornered and she knew it. . .

Mystique Throe sat cross-legged on her poorly-treated, petite bed. Eyes shut; she concentrated on blocking out the pain that had plagued her for what seemed like a lifetime. And what a long life it had been. Ninety years of living hell. Funnily enough she'd enjoyed every second of it.

Her eyes snapped open as a light tapping met her ears. Sweeping her raven hair out of her emerald green eyes, she crossed to the full sized mirror in the corner of her room. She had to admit she looked good for a ninety year old. Her aged, emerald eyes were set in a youthful, heart-shaped face. Ruby red lips parted as she admired her voluptuous, athletic figure. She pulled her thick, ebony hair back into a tight ponytail to reveal impossibly high cheekbones, a cute button nose and a perfectly angular chin. Mystique Throe, a ninety year old inside an eighteen year old body; oh she did love magic.

This angelic face peering out of the mirror pinched into a scowl as the impatient tapping became louder. Taking one last look, she spun away from the mirror and stalked towards the open door. Her long, shapely legs stretched out in front of her as she sauntered gracefully down the elegant staircase. Once she had reached the high-ceilinged hallway she commanded the quivering shadows to open the door. What was the point of having the powers she had if she wasn't going to use them?

The door stopped moving and the shadows retracted. In the doorway stood a dark figure; tall, muscular and slim. A flailing mop of auburn hair danced around his head, tickling his perfectly sculpted cheekbones. Piercing blue eyes stared at her as a heart wrenching smile spread across a gorgeous set of luscious red lips.

"I'm cold," the figure complained.

"Well you had better come inside then hadn't you?" Mystique replied trying to keep the excitement out of her usually sensuous voice.

Callous Virtue had been with her from the start. He had been the one who had first introduced her into the wonderful world of magic. The one who had helped her to realise her powers; and the one who had stood by her through thick and thin. Seventy eight years ago when he had first taken her on as his sidekick people had laughed: "You can't fight evil with a twelve year old girl!"

How wrong she had proved them all. Thanks to her and Callous crime was at an all-time low and she was one of the most respected mages in Ireland. No-one wanted to mess with them. The handsome detective and his gorgeous sidekick. They were a force to be reckoned with; striking fear into the hearts of magical wrongdoers.

"It's hardly any warmer in there with you and your bloody shadows though is it?" Callous argued bringing her back from the dreary depths of memory lane.

"Are you trying to tell me after all these years that you don't approve of my talent?" Mystique questioned mockingly.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to say," Callous replied rolling his light blue eyes "Another thing I'd like to tell you is that you're a teensy bit naked,"

She glanced down at her bare, alabaster skin. "Oh really? I'd hardly noticed," and with that she turned, nonplussed, and retreated upstairs to dress. As she reached her room she heard the door close and a soft tutting that told her Callous wasn't impressed. Her hints were becoming more obvious by the second; she didn't care.

Walking towards her wardrobe, Mystique chose her usual black leather garments. The fabric clung flirtatiously to her slender body, exaggerating it in all the right places. The jacket she chose (leather of course) was short, to show off her curves, and had gold fastenings. She slipped on her heeled boots and turned to face her bombsite of a room.

Old newspapers, both magic and mortal, littered the floor each one turned to the horoscopes at the back. Used coffee cups cluttered every flat surface sometimes accompanied by a green bottle or two. The sleeping draught Callous had made for her stood beside her undisturbed bed. Her desk was littered with incredibly accurate star charts, each dotted with small drops of congealed red ink. The only cared for object in the room was her beloved telescope which stood prestigiously in the far corner of the drab room.

Deciding to tidy it later, she proceeded down the stairs into the now empty hallway. She found her partner sat on the living room sofa, staring dreamily at nothing. Mystique stared, fighting back a laugh. She wondered how long she should leave him like this, but before she could decide Callous sprang buoyantly to his feet. "Shall we go then?" he asked. Before Mystique could answer he was moving into the hallway his glorious features now sombre. She followed him outside where he was waiting for her at the top of the driveway.

They strode down the driveway, moving in perfect unison. They passed her mud flecked jeep, heading towards the bustling street beyond her world of calm and shadows. Shadows were her thing. Every mage, sorcerer, witch and wizard in the world had their own unique talents and hers happened to be the power to manipulate shadows. Once she had mastered it her power had become quite a gift. She could manipulate any shadow, anywhere in the world at any time to do whatever it was she wished for them to do. She had thought her powers were pretty damn cool until she heard what it was that Callous could do.

"There's been another murder," Callous announced.

"Another?" Mystique replied in disbelief "but that's the fifth one this week!"

"I know," muttered Callous sombrely.

"Whoever this person is, they're getting more ferocious and more vengeful by the day!" Mystique exclaimed. Callous didn't respond. He seemed distant today. She decided it was just the thought that this murderer, whoever they were, had evaded them for so long. Yes that was it, Callous wasn't used to being outwitted and he was sulking about it.

They reached the house of the latest victim. A mortal man. He looked around ninety maybe even older. The scene was the same as the others, messy, bloody and in pitch black darkness. The old man lay motionless on the ancient carpet his withered eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. His wrinkled skin had grown pale; his cracked lips now a deathly blue. Yanking her eyes away from the crumpled corpse, she scanned her surroundings.

Retro style wallpaper peeled from the walls, the paste having lost its grip many years before. The blood-stained carpet was a rustic brown with a faded pattern stamped around its fraying edges. A moth-eaten sofa was pushed up against the wall or had been before it had been upturned and torn to shreds. Glass from the broken mirror above the fireplace scattered the floor cringing beneath their feet. Blood spattered each wall and had saturated the carpet. Three strands of inky-black hair hung from the elaborate fireplace and every piece of furniture had been either upturned or torn to pieces.

"It's horrible," Mystique whispered.

"It's exactly the same as the last fifty murders we've investigated," noted Callous before striding back through the front door. Mystique sprinted after him getting the suspicion that he wasn't telling her something.

"Come on then, spit it out!" Mystique shouted at the back of his head.

"What?" questioned Callous.

"Whatever you're keeping from me," replied Mystique calmly.

"Trust me; you don't want to know."

"Of course I want to know. Just tell me will you!" she shrieked becoming rather exasperated now.

"Ok then; I know who the killer is," muttered Callous, admitting defeat. Mystique raised her elegantly plucked eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

"It was you," he said his voice shaking slightly. "Mystique Throe, over the last 2 years you have killed fifty people; forty sorcerers and ten mortals. You killed each and every one of them in the same way; by punching a fist of shadows into their chest and ripping out their hearts. You probably don't remember any of this but it happened and you have committed fifty counts of murder."

"oh" was all she could manage. Fifty people dead all at her hand. But why? What would drive her to do such a thing?

"You found out the people involved in the murder of your parents," Callous said reading her mind.

Getting back her composure, Mystique found her voice: "So you're going to arrest me then?"

"Of course I'm not! What good would it do to put you behind bars?" he replied and Mystique breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm going to kill you."

"WHAT?" cried Mystique getting seriously alarmed.

"Oh no don't be scared," Callous said soothingly. "I'll be doing you a favour. If the high priest finds out he'll torture you and drag your death out. If I hand you over your death will be slow and painful. I on the other hand will show you an elaborate amount of mercy and kill you quickly."

"So killing me is going to be an act of mercy?" Mystique inquired.

"Absolutely," he replied reassuringly. Upon hearing that she was going to die at the hands of her best friend Mystique Throe had been drowned in fear. However, she was starting to calm down now. Her hands had stopped shaking uncontrollably and she began to concoct a plan to get herself out of this rather problematic situation. She had no chance trying to fight him - he would destroy her in the blink of an eye. Her only option was to run for it. So that was her plan, simple and effective, but it was the getting to that part which worried her. Then it hit her; this was the last time that she would ever see the dashingly handsome creature that is Callous Virtue.

"Callous darling, seeing as it's the last time we are going to be talking like this, I feel it is my duty to inform you of a little secret that I have been keeping from you over the last few years." Mystique stated, a false sense of confidence flooding through her.

"Go on."

"Thanks to nearly eighty tiresomely annoying years of you I can't believe I'm actually saying this;" She started "but, Callous Virtue, darling, this evil heart of mine has been informing me that it is most unwillingly and unconditionally in love with you." A broad smile graced his angelic features making it harder for Mystique not to burst into tears and leap desperately into his strong, welcoming arms.

After a few awkward moments Callous took a step towards his beautiful companion. Mystique flinched, expecting a fatal spear of shadows to spear her body but none came. For she knew that was how he would kill her; by using her own powers against her. He took another step and she panicked. Taking Callous completely by surprise, Mystique sprinted across the road and rounded the corner into the adjoining alleyway.

SMACK! Mystique ran headfirst into a brick wall. Typical. Becoming pretty sure that she had broken her nose Mystique turned to face her fate. She was cornered and she knew it. Callous turned the corner encasing her in. She saw the shadows around her but her powers were no good to her now. "You can't fight me," Callous told her.

"I know. I was pretty sure I could outrun you until I hit this wall," she laughed. They stared into each other's eyes getting lost inside. After what seemed like hours Mystique's lip began to quiver; and before they knew what was happening, the mighty team of Virtue and Throe broke down in a fit of devastated tears. They fell into each other's outstretched arms: they had at last found their place in the world.

"Elena. . ." Callous started.

"Don't call me Elena, my name's Mystique."

"No. Mystique is the name you took to protect your soul. You don't need to protect your soul from me."

"Fine then. As long as you're alright with me calling you James. . ." Elena retorted stubbornly. James just laughed.

She could feel the shadows swelling behind her now, preparing for the kill. She began to summon shadows of her own; refusing to go down without a fight.

With one final "I love you." James took Elena's strong chin into his hand, his skin tingling with electricity at the touch of hers. It was like lightning and both of them could feel it coursing through their veins, screaming at each of them to stop the dreadful acts they were about to commit.

Their lips met and Elena's world exploded in a fit of stars. How long she had waited for this moment and how quickly it was about to end. Their first kiss and their final one. The kiss of life and the kiss of death. James tightened his embrace as his fist of shadows struck. As soon as Elena sensed the shadows descending behind her she punched out with her own shadowy fist. . .

Anne Fitzsimmons.