Call My Bluff

Roxa stood by the window. The glass had mostly been blacked out by a large, dark cloth, but there was one small crack she could just about see out of.

"How's she doing." One of the Bowerstone boys asked, anxiously.

She shook her head, "I don't know. I can't see. This fog..."

"Aint natural." Clay growled, shaking his head, "Get away from that window, girl."

She hesitated, and then nodded, reluctantly, going to sit down. Her foot jiggled against the floor and she was chewing on her lip. The long thick jacket the Hero had given her to cover her pretty little dress only blunted the chill, and she felt shivers move across her shoulders.

A hand fell on her shoulder, and the same boy that had spoken was standing behind her, holding out his blue cuffed jacket. She gave a small smile, "You just keep it, hon. You're looking colder than I do."

His face flushed slightly, but he nodded, awkwardly, and backed away. Roxa returned to tearing apart her lip. She wasn't normally nervous. She didn't think any whore in Bloodstone could be nervous, not while doing what they did. But this wasn't a normal day, and that woman, even though she didn't even know them, was out there fighting that thing for them.

She'd never seen a banshee before. She'd heard of them, in stories. And she'd heard them, sometimes. Felt the chill at night that meant there was one nearing the town. They had never crossed the border before, not that she knew of, anyway. They had always stayed in Wraithmarsh. Now this one was tearing apart the town, scattering bloody corpses across the streets.

She shivered again, violently, and then shook her head. She got to her feet and then settled herself back down on the floor, digging her hands deep into the coat's pockets. She felt blood trickle onto her tongue.

The cute yellow mutt let out a low whine, and then pushed closer to her, curling up half on her lap, blessing her with his warmth. She pulled him closer, thankful. He was like a cosy little rug.

"How long has she been out there." Someone deeper in the pub muttered, breaking the silence.

"Gotta be at least an hour." Another responded, grimly.

"An hour? What is going on out there..."

"She's left us." The voice said, thick with disgust and anger, "She's got us holed up in here while she's gone and scarpered."

"No way." One of the brothers said, hotly.

The other agreed, "Sam's right, she wouldn't do that to us. No way."

"You know her?"

"Know her?" he hesitated, "Well... no, but..."

"Then how d'you know she hasn't left."

"She's... she's saved us before."

There was a gruff laugh, "And you bumped into her again? How much trouble do you guys get."

"Quite a bit, actually." Max admitted, almost apologetically.

"Quite a bit for fucking townies..." The man muttered, shaking his head.

Roxa rolled her eyes, and then got to her feet, despite the fuzzy dog's warmth, returning to the window.

"We sort of just... attract bother."

"Usually undead bother." Sam added, shaking his head.

"How many times has this girl saved your worthless hides, then?"

"Only twice. Including today. Oh, and she said something about some sort of tussle in The Tomb of Heroes, but... we didn't know anything about that."

"We left a note." Sam pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but how many Sams and Maxs are there in Albion?"

"Sams and Maxs that happen to have found the Normanomicon?"

"Well... there could be..."

"You guys are idiots." The guy growled, shaking his head, "How the hell did two dimwits like you survive five seconds in Wraithmarsh."

"We're quite resilient."

"You're as thick as a hung-over troll with the fight of a dead Hobbe. Without the tact."

"If that's so, then how did we manage it to Wraithmarsh? Let's see you try!"

"Shut up."

The voices immediately silenced. Roxa didn't move her eyes, instead nodding at the glass, "It's her. It's Blade."

Sam got to his feet, moving swiftly over to her, "Where? I don't see her."

"Look. There. D'you see?"

The boy paled, "Oh, Avo. Is she...?"

"I don't know."

Max was now by her side, "What's going on?"

"She's injured. Look, she's out there, but she's injured."

"Is she dead?"

"Unconscious." Sam said, firmly.

She shook her head again, "I don't know. I can't tell from here." She paused, her hand on the glass. Then she nodded, slowly, "That's it. I'm going to her."

Sam looked uneasy, "Whoa, wait a second, she said not to open the door."

"Look at her, she looks... she looks really hurt. She could be dying."

"But, the banshee -"

"I don't see it! Look, look for yourself!"

They all looked. No-one could see even a sign of it. Roxa hesitated, and then shook her head, "I'm going to her. Sam, Max, help me get this door open."

Max shook his head, "You heard what she said, don't open it, not for anything, even if it's me, especially if it's me, ma'am, I really think -"

"I am opening this door. And I am going to help her. She's helped us. She saved your lives."

The brothers looked at her for a moment. Then they nodded, and started pulling back the barricade.

Clay got his feet and walked over to her, swiftly, taking her by the arm, "I don't think that's a good idea, girl."

"I don't care."

"She said stay."

She yanked her arm back, "I don't care! What are you - cowards?! I'm going to her!"

The bartender looked at her for a second. Then shook his head, gruffly, "Fine. Do what you want."

She nodded, slowly, and then turned back to the door. Boy was jumping up and down beside them, whimpering and growling, desperate to be reunited with his owner. The last table was pushed away, and Roxa took a breath before stepping out onto the street.

"Blade?"

Roxa took a few slow steps towards her. The streets were covered in bodies and blood, and she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling quite dizzy. She controlled herself, and then opened her eyes again, focussing purely on the Hero's limp frame.

She took a few more steps, her eyes tracing the scene in front of her with amazement. The shipyard at the end of the waterfront had been completely demolished, leaving only blackened, smouldering remains. The walls and floor were caked thick with soot, and small fires had broken out across the dock. Roxa shook her head, slowly. Blade looked... worse for wear. Her highwayman clothes were ripped and torn, and blood and dirt covered her face. She was lying flat on her back, one hand on her stomach, the other by her side, her head tilted slightly and her eyes closed.

She took an uncertain step forwards, "Blade? Blade, can you... can you hear me? Blade, answer me. C'mon."

There was a pause, and then a low groan, "Roxa?"

She gave a small, relieved laugh, taking a few steps forwards, "Blade!"

Her eyes opened, seeing her, and she shook her head, "I told you to stay inside." She said, grimacing, pressing a hand tightly to a large patch of blood on her stomach, "Do you people listen to nothing I say?"

"What happened?"

"Shot a barrel of gunpowder. The banshee was caught right in the blast, but I... got the aftershock." She moved slightly, and then winced, "I ran out of health potions."

The pain in her voice was obvious, no matter how gruffly she spoke. Roxa shook her head, urgently, "Are there any more in your pack?"

"I... I don't know. Maybe. Let me... let me just..." she tried to get to her feet, pushing out the spare hand against the floor, grinding her teeth against the pain. Roxa immediately moved towards her, holding out a hand to her shoulder.

"Get away from her!"

Roxa spun on her heel, her heart pumping hard in her chest. Her eyes widened.

"You heard me, stay back!"

She just stared at her, dumfounded, and then shook her head, "But you're -"

The other Blade shook her head, limping a little closer, "Listen to me, Roxa. Take a few steps back. I'll explain everything, just keep away from it."

Roxa hesitated. Then she looked down at Blade. Her eyes were fixed on her double, widened slightly, her breathing fast. Her eyes flickered up, urgently, "Avo. It's not dead."

The second Blade was having trouble. She had fallen to her knees, one hand pushing at an identical wound on her stomach. She forced herself upright, and then staggered forwards a few steps, "Roxa. Shoot it. Shoot it."

"But... but..." she transferred her gaze back to the one on the floor.

She was shaking her head, quickly, "No. No, don't. Roxa. It's the banshee. Don't."

"Kill it! Roxa, listen to me, shoot it! Kill it now!"

"No! Roxa, don't listen to it! It's the banshee! Don't listen!"

The other shook her head, anger and pain etched on her face, "Roxa, shoot it. Shoot it now. Come on, just kill it!"

"Roxa, please. Remember what I said, remember I told you it would pretend to be me! It's playing with your head!"

Number one reached out a hand and Roxa stumbled away. She tried again and the prostitute pulled out the pistol Blade had given her, cocking it and aiming it firmly at her head, "Don't touch me."

Number two stepped forwards and she immediately changed targets, "Stay away!"

Boy was by her heel, growling. She glanced down at him, but he was growling at both targets. How could she know which one was his master?

"Blade." She pleaded, switching her aim, hesitantly, "Which one's you? What... what the hell do I do."

"Roxa." The first said, keeping her voice firmly stable, "Please. Listen to me. Your first words to me were you lookin' for a good time. When I said I was looking for Reaver -"

"You've been in my head, of course you'd know that!" the other said, viciously.

"- you said aren't we all. You were wearing a purple silk dress."

"Stop it."

"I called you a sycophantic bint and you didn't know what it meant."

"Stop this, leave her alone!"

"I told you to look after Boy and the two Bowerstone kids, Sam and Max, and I told you never to open that door."

"That's it!" she took a few quick steps forwards and Roxa turned the gun on her. She stopped, but her anger didn't fade, "Kill it. Kill it now, Roxa, stop letting it get into your head! Kill it!"

"How the hell am I supposed to know which one's the original?!" she asked, angry and scared, shaking her head.

The second Blade stopped. She looked at her for a second, her breathing rough and ragged. Then she shook her head, "Then shoot us both."

She stared at her, "What?!"

"Do it. First me. Then her. Do it!" the girl just looked at her and she shook her head again, impatiently, "One of us is the real one but you'll never believe either of us. So shoot us both, you'll kill the banshee, save Bloodstone. Do it! Do it now!"

"No. Roxa, you can't kill a banshee with a single shot."

"You can if it's a headshot." She replied, fiercely, "Do it, Roxa. Just two pulls of the trigger, this'll all be over. Come on. Shoot us. Please."

Roxa bit her lip so hard blood poured into her mouth. She shook her head, uncertainly, backing away from them, her breathing hectic.

"Roxa." The second one was on her knees again, leaning over a little bit, "Roxa, I haven't got long left. Please. Do it. I'd rather die by bullet and stop this than die when that thing decides it's had enough of toying with you. And you don't deserve that either. Do it. Shoot us both."

"Roxa. Please. Don't."

Tears spilled down her cheeks but she didn't wipe them away, keeping her hands on the weapon, "I can't. I can't do it."

"Yes you can. Shoot me."

"I can't."

"No, don't, Roxa!"

"Shoot me. Come on, just do it."

"Blade, I -"

She lost her temper, "I know what I'm fucking doing! Listen to me, you stupid little whore and shoot me!"

Roxa aimed, quickly, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit the first Blade smack in the chest, smashing her back into the ground. She watched as the woman gasped, her hand seizing the wound, her breaths shallow and caught in her throat, gaping for air, like a fish out of water.

Roxa dropped the gun, unconsciously. Her eyes fixed on the crippled body. She felt someone beside her, and the other was back on her feet, pistol raised and ready. She pulled the trigger so quickly her finger was a blur, pounding in shot after shot into the injured Blade's chest, the sound of the gun sharp and piercing in the air, just one, continuous bang.

Her pistol ran dry, and she fell back to her knees again. Her hand went to her belt, fumbling with a holster, probably going for more rounds, but she couldn't get it open. Her hand caught the floor before she fell, the other still clutching at her wound. Her forehead lowered, touching the floor, her breaths caught in her chest.

Roxa backed away, her eyes flickering between the doubled-up Blade to the mutilated corpse on the floor. She held her breath.

Blade glanced up, and then let out a low, dark growl, "Just... die."

She grabbed Roxa's discarded pistol and shot the body straight in the head. There was a screech, a high, piercing scream, and then the body and the pool of blood around it shimmered away in a plume of smoke.

Roxa eyes stayed on the empty space on the floor where the banshee had been. Then she looked back at Blade. She was crippled, lying now on her side, grimacing, her breathing reduced to hisses of pain.

She immediately moved over to her, grabbing her hand, "Blade? Blade?"

The Hero shook her head, painfully, "Nice shot."

"I was aiming for her head."

"Ah. Then maybe not so good."

Boy was now by her side, lapping at her hand, and her eyes opened a little, hazily.

"I must be dreaming..." she murmured, her eyes sliding shut again. Roxa shook her head, worried, and brushed a hand across the many wounds. The Hero seized up in pain, "Avo! Okay. Maybe not dreaming then. God..."

"Sorry, sorry. We... we need to get these healed."

"I'm out of potions."

"The alchemist is dead." Roxa glanced over her shoulder, and Clay was standing there, watching the scene in front of him, grimly, "We've got no way to get some more."

"Then we have to get her to someone who will." Roxa replied, firmly, "Clay, help me."

They lifted her up a little, getting her into a sitting position. She cursed violently under her breath, and Roxa tried to go a little more gently.

"Roxa. I know what... what you're thinking. And don't you dare."

"What are you thinking." The bartender asked, frowning.

"Reaver. We need to get her to Reaver."

The woman shook her head, immediately, "No. No, get... get off of me. Get... off."

"I'm sorry, Blade, but if you don't get treated you're going to die. And this is Bloodstone. He's the only one that'll help you."

"Help... help me? No. Don't... don't you dare. Roxa. Don't."

"I'm sorry. Clay, help me."

"No... I won't... I... Roxa..." She held on for a moment longer, and then her eyes slid closed and her body went limp.

Roxa looked up at him, her heart fluttering, "We need to get her to Reaver. Now."