Chapter Eleven: The Angel of Death's Wicked Sense of Humor
Disclaimer: Hellboy characters do not belong to me. However, Erica is mine.
Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews Psycho Llama, DarkCloudRider, Gestalt, and Blu Embyr! I feel so loved! Ideas and suggestions are still welcome, and a special thanks goes out to DarkCloudRider for sending ideas, they reminded me of a few key things I had forgotten about! This chapter is five years into the future from the last chapter. That means it's 1944 and Erica is 22 years old, so you'll be treated to more action, plus an update on the portal generator. And the Shadow Man makes an appearance, and not for the last time! (hint hint!) Everyone review, pretty please!
Psycho Llama: More action in this chapter! And if you loved the scene following Kroenen pulling Erica out of the water, just wait 'til you see some of the things in here! As for the monsters and so on, the reason they're so unique is because I took them from a nightmare I had!
DarkCloudRider: Thanks so much for the ideas! And yes, I am planning to write a sequel to this story when it's over in a few chapters.
Gestalt: Glad to hear you liked the Sentinels and the fire demon!
Blu Embyr: Yup, she got the pretty rock! And I wrote more suspense and action in this chapter, since everyone seemed to like it so much!
September 28, 1944
Kroenen was crossing the courtyard that he and Erica used for combat training, heading for his lab in the cellars of the mansion. This was just one of many shortcuts he used to reach his lab, and there were others that would get him there faster, but he wanted to know how Erica was. She was supposed to be practicing her combat skills with a servant that he had sent to her. The servant had been displeasing him of late, so sending the servant to practice with Erica seemed a fitting punishment. Behind his mask Kroenen grinned, wondering just how long the servant would last, assuming that the servant in question hadn't already died. Kroenen didn't have long to wonder, as a voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Would you like to practice with me? I need an opponent." Erica called.
Kroenen stopped and turned to face her. She was dressed in her usual black uniform, but she had taken off her trench coat and he could see it lying on the ground nearby. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail by a silk black ribbon tied in a bow. Her overall appearance was deceptively charming, so long as you ignored the bloodied sword in her hand and the drops of blood smeared across her black jacket and her right cheek. The servant was nowhere in sight. Kroenen eyed the blood dripping off her baton sword. You certainly are my Angel of Death, he thought, using the nickname that the general public had for her, You're beautiful but as lethal as any poison, no matter how beautiful the presentation to its victim is. Instead of answering her question, he directed a question at her.
"What happened to the servant I sent to be your opponent?" he asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.
"He couldn't handle me." she said, gesturing indifferently in the direction of the servant in question.
Kroenen turned his head, looking in the direction she had pointed to. A dead man was sprawled across the ground near a corner of the courtyard, minus his right hand, which had been cut off at the wrist. The sparkling silver shards of a broken sword lay by the man's side. So he was unable to handle her, Kroenen thought, seeing the humor in her words.
"Very clever," he said, laughing approvingly, "And as I have said before, you have a very wicked sense of humor."
"I know," she said with smirk, "Now, shall we?"
"I hardly need an invitation." he replied, smiling behind his mask and flinging out his arms, allowing the long blades on his wrists to extend.
Like a whirlwind she was suddenly in front of him, the baton sword spinning and flashing in the afternoon sunlight, the glinting blade flying towards his metal mask. Kroenen crossed his wrist blades in front of his face, blocking her blade barely two inches from his mask. With her sword she pushed against the crossed blades in front of her, straining to push the blades towards his mask. She had no such luck. In one swift movement, he pushed his crossed blades towards her, knocking her slightly backwards. She spun with the push and came back at him, the tip of her baton sword flicking out towards his throat.
Kroenen laughed and ducked it, and then he did something that he knew would infuriate her. As he ducked and her blade went over his head, he reached towards her and, being careful not to cut her, he seized her left arm. Then, before she had a chance to defend herself, he swung her around so her back was to him, grabbed her ponytail and twisted it, hard.
"Ow!" she yelled. He twisted and pulled her hair again, "Stop it! You promised not to do this if I wore my hair this way when we practiced!"
That was true, he had promised. Normally when she was going to fight she would braid her hair, wind it tidily around the back of her head, and then wear the hat that went with her uniform. This prevented her opponents from taking advantage of her long, loose hair as Kroenen had just done.
"Yes, I know I did," he murmured, weaving his fingers through her silky brown hair, "But you see, when you don't braid your hair, I believe I am correct when I say it's too tempting for someone to resist touching, whether the person is or is not your opponent."
"I think I'll take that as a compliment." said Erica in a strained voice. Because of how he had grabbed her hair, her back was arched painfully backwards. "Now, if you would be so kind, let go so we can continue."
"Oh, but I won't be so kind," he said with a sinister chuckle, savoring the impatience in her voice, "But don't worry, we will continue. Or at least we will as soon as you give me your baton sword."
He felt her body go stiff with indignation. "What? Why?" she demanded.
"I need to make sure you haven't forgotten how to defend yourself should you loose your weapon."
"No," she said stubbornly, and she moved her baton sword so he couldn't reach it.
"Well then, I won't let go either." he replied coolly, "And I believe that leaves us at an impasse."
The golden afternoon sun shone down on the pair in the coartyard, its bright rays glinting on the sharp edges of Erica's sword and Kroenen's blades. It also shimmered gently on her hair, still caught in Kroenen's grasp. After the initial tug to get her attention, he just intertwined his fingers in her hair so she couldn't pull away. He wasn't hurting her, just preventing her from pulling away. Minutes passed, and Kroenen grew tired of waiting. His eyes fell on the black silk ribbon holding her hair back in a ponytail, and he got an idea. He shifted his grip and her hair slid smoothly over his leather gloved fingers as he began untying the ribbon.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, feeling his fingers pull gently on the ribbon.
"Taking the ribbon out of your hair."
"Stop it at once!"
"Only if you hand over your sword."
"No. Now stop it!"
Kroenen laughed at her words but didn't reply, and continued untying the black ribbon in her hair. He knew laughing at her would only make her angrier, and he loved it when he irritated her —she was more fun to fight when she was angry, particularly when she was angry with him.
He finished untying the ribbon and pulled it out so that her hair cascaded down over her neck and shoulders. In response Erica muttered something inaudible that seemed to be a mixture of German and English curses.
"Now," Kroenen said, murmuring in her ear, "I will return your ribbon if you give me your sword. And if you don't, I'm sure I can come up with more…creative ways to get you to comply."
"Oh fine!" she said in exasperation, holding out her baton sword so he could reach it.
Still holding onto her hair, he reached out and gently took her sword from her. Only then did he release her. She turned to face him and looked at him expectantly, strands of her hair drifting slowly across her face as the breeze blew.
"Here," he said, holding out the ribbon to her, but being careful to hold the sword out of her reach.
She took the ribbon and quickly pulled her hair back again in a loose ponytail. As she did, Kroenen retracted his wrist blades and gripped the hilt of her baton sword in a business like manner. Now defenseless, Erica carefully backed away from him, keeping both of her eyes focused on him, waiting for the moment he would attack. Without her sword, she would have to rely on rudimentary martial arts, and of course, the age old skill of dodging. But in truth, she didn't mind. She was only pretending to be angry. Yes, she was exasperated, but it was in a happy sort of way. Anyway, Kroenen wasn't really tormenting her, it was more like a father teasing his daughter than anything else. And besides, she thought, there's no one else that can actually defeat me in a fight. He's the only one who can teach me to fight better. Erica was distracted from her thoughts as Kroenen swung the baton sword low at her feet and she was forced to jump. He did it again, and she jumped again, this time making sure to back away. But he came forward, closing the gap between them, and swung the sword at her feet.
This is like a perverse game of jump rope, she thought as she jumped.
And as she jumped, out of the corner of her eye she saw the sword change direction and come sweeping up towards her head! She ducked in midair and then landed, cat-like, on her feet, though she was slightly off balance. Kroenen took advantage of this and with one kick, knocked her feet out from under her. Erica gave a muffled cry as she fell and landed on her back on the hard cobblestones. Looking up, she saw the baton sword sweeping toward her head and instinctively rolled away from it. She heard the swishing noise of the blade draw closer and then next thing she knew, the baton sword bit into the ground an inch from her face! Her startled grey eyes shot to it, and for a moment, she saw her face reflected in the blade's surface before the blade was tugged free.
Kroenen stabbed the blade towards her again, but she avoided it by rolling to the side, and she heard a metallic ping behind her as his sword glanced off a cobblestone. Then she tried to stand, knowing that she was the most vulnerable when she was trapped on the ground. So, apparently, did Kroenen. He tried to force her back to the ground, but she ducked the blade and scrambled onto her knees, accidentally turning her back to him. She instantly knew she had made a mistake and tried to turn around, but Kroenen was too fast. While she was still kneeling, Kroenen came up behind her and hit her on the back of the head with the hilt of the baton sword. She gave a soft moan and then slumped to the ground at his feet, partially stunned.
Erica lay on the ground trying to recover, the back of her head throbbing painfully from the hilt's impact on her skull. Dazedly, she gingerly touched the back of her head, and could feel a slight lump starting to form where he had struck her. She felt a shadow fall over her, and still lying on her back, she glanced up at Kroenen.
"Never turn your back on someone better armed than you." he scolded, tilting his masked face down to look at her.
"Yeah, well, don't give weapons to your opponents either!" she said.
As she spoke, she grabbed a baton sword from its sheath on his leg, rolled out of his reach, and stood up.
"Now it appears that we're even." Kroenen said, as he put her baton sword in the empty sheath on his leg. Then he held out his arms at his sides, and his wrist blades smoothly slid out of his sleeves again. "But as you can see, appearances are deceiving."
"That's true," she said, as she calmly put his sword in her own sheath, "but I myself have a trick or two up my sleeve."
As soon as she finished speaking, she violently flung out her arms, extending her own wrist blades. She crossed them in front of her face and smirked at Kroenen's startled appearance.
"Now we're even!" she yelled, before she attacked.
The crash of metal on metal echoed jarringly as they fought back and forth across and around the courtyard in a graceful, dangerous dance. They were more evenly matched now, Erica was almost as good as Kroenen was and she knew it would be more difficult for him to gain the advantage. Their feet carried them close to a pair of metal statues near some thick stone columns that held up a balcony, and Erica scrambled behind one of the statues to escape. Kroenen didn't stop himself quite soon enough, and his blade glanced off the metal statue, sending sparks into the air. Keeping the statue between them, Erica lunged out at him, but he easily blocked her and lashed out at her. She ducked back behind the statue and then jumped out ready to attack— but Kroenen was gone!
She looked around the statue. Where did he go? she wondered. Then she heard a soft noise above her and looked up in time to see him perched on top of the statue, crouched like a nightmarish black panther.
"Always look up!" he said, as he leapt at her, his trench coat billowing out around him.
She backed away, fast, andhe landed on his feet and immediately swung his blades at her throat. She raised her sword to block him, only to discover he had been feinting. Instead of continuing to fight, he stepped backwards and ducked behind a white marble column that was part of the double row of wide, thick columns that held up a balcony overlooking the courtyard. She followed him, knowing that if she wasn't quick enough that he would disappear. She wasn't fast enough. He wasn't behind the column where he should have been.
"Scheiße." she cursed, moving cautiously to look around each column.
The problem was that the columns were so thick that you couldn't see around them, which meant he could be behind any of them by now. Erica looked all around her as she went around a column, this time making sure to look up as he had an uncanny ability to scale vertical surfaces with all the ease of a spider. This was one trick of his that she hadn't learned yet, and she doubted she ever would. She glanced behind her, and still looking behind her, she continued walking around the column.
Unbeknownst to her, Kroenen was actually following behind her, standing behind the columns where she had already looked for him. This won't work for long, he thought, she knows me too well. She'll figure it soon. So I think I'll surprise her. He continued following her, and the moment she looked behind her, he positioned himself directly in front of her. She continued walking, still looking over her shoulder, and—
THUD.
—she walked right into him, just as he had planned. Startled, her head snapped around to face forward, and she found herself less than half an inch from his expressionless, ebony mask. He grabbed her shoulders so she couldn't back away.
"Don't constantly look over your shoulder for your enemies," he warned her, "if you do, you're likely to be stabbed in the heart instead of in your back."
"Do you have any other wonderful insights or suggestions to impart?" she asked sarcastically.
"As a matter of fact, yes. Never expect your opponent to give up and die, and never assume your enemy is dead—make sure of it." he said, grinning wickedly.
Then he pushed her so she went stumbling back out into the courtyard, and he followed at a run. He launched himself at her, but she dropped to the ground and rolled to the side, then struck out at him as he went by, managing to leave a long slash on the arm of his trench coat. He turned back to her just as she stood and attacked again.
"Good. You're getting better." he said, blocking a particularly vicious thrust.
"Always." she said, smiling, though she was slightly out of breath.
He noticed this, and as if they were both thinking the same thing, they broke apart and stood facing each other.
"Truce?" she asked.
Kroenen nodded and they both relaxed, dropping their fighting stances. Erica let her sword drop to her side and then brushed a few pieces of hair out of her face, taking the opportunity to catch her breath.
"You are improving, but you'll never be as good as me." said Kroenen, breaking the silence.
"And why's that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He moved with lightning speed and was suddenly behind her, pinning her arms to her sides and crushing her against his body with his left arm. With his right he held the blade on his wrist to her throat. Defenseless and unable to move, she held very still, her heart pounding. I didn't expect that to happen, she thought, genuinely astonished that he had trapped her so quickly and so easily. She felt the cold steel of the knife pressing sharply against her throat, and in an effort to put some space between herself and the knife, she tilted her head so it rested against his shoulder. She could hear the soft ticking of his internal clockwork and the rasping as he breathed through his mask. He bent his head down and whispered in her ear.
"The reason you will never be as good as me is that through my improvements to myself I am faster and stronger than you. And unlike you, I cannot die. Being shot doesn't affect me. Or have you forgotten so soon what that enemy spy did the second he spotted you, The Angel of Death?"
"No," she sighed, remembering the event that had taken place only six months ago. One night she had caught an enemy spy snooping around the grounds surrounding the mansion, and he, realizing who she was, had shot at her. She had managed to deflect two bullets with her sword before she was hit. Blinded by anger and pain she had decapitated the spy in less than a second and then collapsed. Ilsa had found her and taken her back to the mansion. Kroenen had not been happy that Erica had been injured, and she had not particularly enjoyed the painful hour it took to dig the bullet out of her shoulder. She still had the scar.
"The Angel of Death," he whispered, as if to himself, "Such an interesting if appropriate name that they've given you…"
He paused for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had changed.
"However, you are the closest to my skill that anyone has ever been or will ever be. And you would excel even more, if only…" he trailed off, leaving his sentence unfinished.
But unlike his words, his thoughts were very complete. And Erica knew what he was thinking about without even asking, she knew what was going through his head. By accident or by his design, she had walked in on enough of his "modification" sessions and seen enough of his drawings to know what he would like to do to her if she would let him. He had asked her several times before, and each time she had refused. She liked herself the way she was, and no matter how often Kroenen said that the human body was weak and fallible in comparison to machines, there was no way she would let him start replacing parts of her with clockwork. Kroenen knew this, but every once in a while he would subtly slip his question into a conversation, sometimes not even coming out and saying it, but just barely suggesting or hinting at it as he had just done.
"I'm sorry, Kroenen, my answer is still no," she said. Then, knowing that her answer hurt him, she amended it, "And it will stay no unless I lose a limb."
"That could be arranged," he hissed softly in her ear, making her shiver. He still held the blade to her throat, and as he spoke he held her tighter.
For once Erica couldn't tell if he was joking or not. What is he thinking? she thought, Do I even want to know? Behind her Kroenen was completely silent, excepting for the soft sound of ticking clockwork. As the seconds stretched out into minutes, with him still holding her tightly and still pressing the blade to her throat, she began to get a little nervous.
"Kroenen? Please, let go of me." she said.
When she said his name he jumped a little, as if she had startled him.
"Forgive me," he said, releasing his hold on her, "Master is calling us. I forgot what I was doing."
She wasn't sure if this explanation completely justified his behavior, but she went along with it.
"What does he want us to do?" she asked, turning around to face Kroenen.
"He wants us to continue working on the portal generator," he said, "And I hope you ate breakfast this morning, because I believe we will be working on the portal generator for quite a while. He wants us to get it as close to finished as possible."
XXXXX
They had been working on the portal generator for the past five years, ever since Erica had retrieved the crystal they needed to help power it. Actually, the initial idea for the portal generator and the Ragnarok Project had been unveiled by Nazi scientists in 1938, shortly after Erica had arrived in Germany.
The reason it had taken them almost five years to build the portal generator was because it was extremely difficult to keep the portal stable for any length of time. Many prototypes for the generator had exploded. In fact, the initial model that they had built had exploded violently, killing the soldiers nearest to it and all the scientists operating it. Ilsa, Kroenen, and Erica had been standing a sensible distance away and were only injured by the flames and pieces of debris hurled through the air by the force of the explosion. Fortunately, the crystal Erica had retrieved survived the explosion, as well as the subsequent explosions of the other portal generators.
Mostly it had been Kroenen and Erica who built the generators, assisted by a multitude of Nazi scientists and soldiers. Ilsa occasionally helped, but most of the time she was too busy keeping an eye on politics in the Thule Occult Society and the Nazi government.
After all their work and research, they were the closest to their goal they had ever been. The portal generator was nearly complete, though there was still some hard work to be done. And it was because the generator was nearly complete that they were also the busiest they had ever been. The final date on which to release the Ogdru Jahad had been set, October 9, 1944, which was only eleven days away. And there would be no excuses— the portal generator must be finished on time.
XXXXX
Erica was not happy. They were only sixteen hours into working and she was already tired. Using her visions so often to check the machinery was draining her of energy. However, unlike her, Kroenen was tireless, and even though she was tired and hungry, she forced herself to keep up with his endless energy. She helped bolt parts together, comparing their work with the blueprints Kroenen had drawn and then making sure the parts would work by using her visions. All this caution was necessary because the portal generator was a mixture of black magic and science, which made it extremely dangerous. But it also made it very powerful, providing you could harness its power without accidentally killing yourself in the process.
As the first day stretched into two, and then three, she found herself growing grumpy and irritated, which, even she had to admit, was a slight understatement. Not only had she not eaten or slept—resulting in a massive, pounding headache and a very short temper—but she was covered in dirt, oil, metal shavings, and sticky, half dried blood. Mostly the blood was from the Nazi technicians and scientists that were becoming increasingly irritating, getting in her way, not answering fast enough, or—worse yet—making mistakes. They had no time to be making mistakes, especially the huge mistakes made by the inept—at least from her point of view—Nazi scientists and technicians.
At first she had been lenient, but Kroenen soon discovered the number of his technicians was starting to dwindle. He had had a strong suspicion why, after all, he wasn't above killing a few of them himself when they displeased him, and he had noticed that Erica had developed a very short temper over the last few days. Just as he was thinking this, he saw Erica over by the portal generator, half in, half out of an opening in its side. She was using her visions to check the work the technician standing beside her had just finished. She could do this by thinking in her head what would happen if they did a test run. Then, if anything went wrong in her vision she could search for the cause and then direct the Nazi technicians to fix it. Currently her legs were deep inside the machine, and her arms were holding onto the edge of the opening in the metal to steady herself. Her eyes were closed, as she was concentrating to see if any mistakes had been made, but suddenly, her gray eyes snapped open.
"Idiot!" she snarled angrily at the technician standing nearby, "You put all those parts in wrong! Not only that, but some of them are the wrong size! Is it really that hard for you to follow a blueprint?"
As Erica climbed out of the portal generator and stood up, hands on her hips, the hapless man desperately tried to explain, and gestured at the portal generator and then to the enormous table covered in spread out blueprints. As he was gesturing, his hand knocked into a seven-foot high pile of haphazardly balanced parts. Instantly, the entire pile overbalanced and came crashing down— right on top of Erica. She gave a shriek of surprise as the weight of it knocked her to the floor.
The technician froze in place, looking dismayed and terrified, no doubt realizing what the repercussions for his actions were likely to be. Erica, lying on the floor half buried in the metal parts, looked up at the Nazi technician, her gray eyes murderous. The technician tried to apologize, but all that came out was an incoherent babble of words.
"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—can I—please don't—it was an accident—"
"Start running! And you better pray I'm slow!" Erica snarled, clumsily disentangling herself from the parts and drawing one of her baton swords.
"Mercy!" the man begged, backing away from her.
But she continued stalking forward as gracefully and threateningly as a cat, and the technician did two of the stupidest things he could have done: he threw the hammer he was holding at her, and then he tried to run. Erica easily dodged the hammer and then sprinted after the technician, overtaking him in less than ten paces. She grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, and then slashed him across the stomach with her sword. He shrieked in pain and then collapsed on the floor at her feet. She kicked him aside disdainfully and then looked up, scarlet blood dripping off her sword. The other technicians and scientists hurriedly returned to work, pretending they hadn't been watching. She heard Kroenen's footsteps behind her and turned to face him.
"Erica, allow me to point out that as amusing as it is to watch you disembowel the technicians, and while the they are expendable, if you continue killing them at this rate I won't have any left. And it will be severely inconvenient if I have to find more."
"I'm sorry," she said, "I can't help it. It's just that I'm so tired…"
"Perhaps you should go and rest," Kroenen suggested, "Go get something to eat and then go to sleep."
"Well, alright," she said, "If you're sure you don't need me for a few hours."
"I'll be fine. When you feel better you can come back and help fix anything that's wrong."
She nodded and left, much to the relief of the Nazi scientists and technicians who relaxed slightly. There was a reason, after all, why she was known as the Angel of Death. However, they relaxed prematurely. Though she was gone, they were still in the presence of Kroenen, who, while less likely to kill them for the reasons she had, was nonetheless capable of turning the lab they were working in into a bloodbath.
Erica closed the door to the lab behind her and almost collapsed on the floor. She grabbed the doorframe to steady herself. Apparently, she was more tired than she had thought. Now that her trance-like state of working was shattered she realized just how exhausted she really was. She hurt all over and her legs felt like lead. All she wanted to do was take a shower and go to sleep. Her stomach rumbled hungrily, she was starving. Alright, she thought, I'll get something to eat first and then take a shower and go to sleep.
She headed for the kitchen. At this hour of the night none of the kitchen staff were to be found, they had tidied up the kitchen and then gone home for the night. It's probably just as well, Erica thought, Otherwise Ilsa might be complaining to me tomorrow about killing the cooks.
Erica opened a few cabinets and the refrigerator and ate whatever she could find, and then somehow dragged herself up all the stairs to her room. She barely glanced at the dark wooded furniture, the paintings hung on the walls, the blood red sheets on her bed, or the crimson curtains as she walked into the bathroom. She saw herself in the mirror and grimaced. She was a mess, there were dark circles under her bloodshot eyes and there was blood in her hair and all over her clothes. She shut the bathroom door behind her and took a shower. Then she blew out the candles in her room and collapsed onto her bed.
Almost instantly she fell into a blissful, and much needed, sleep.
But not for long.
XXXXX
She was in the dead garden. Again.
However, it wasn't like that was exactly unusual. Ever since her first visit here, she had come here almost every night.
Just as always, almost nothing grew here except for some moss in between the cobblestones, the ivy climbing the high stone walls fencing in the garden, or the lichens and slime-like algae that coated the fountain in the center of the garden. Some recent additions that had appeared over the years were some overgrown, poisonous looking weeds and toadstools. The trees in the garden were leafless and twisted horribly, their bark cracked and their wood split by past lightning strikes that had split most of the trees open to reveal their heartwood, which had subsequently begun to rot. The trees' bent, gnarled branches reached toward the dark clouds overhead, their shape resembling the claws of some beast. The wind whistled eerily through the branches and she shivered at the sound as she followed the crazily winding path that led to the courtyard in the center of the garden.
It didn't take her long to get there, after all, she walked the path almost every night. The courtyard was paved with cracked and stained cobblestones, and in the center of this courtyard was the fountain with the misshapen gargoyle in it. As always, foul, black water cascaded down from the jar the gargoyle held and into the fountain's cracked, gray stone basin.
And of course, the faceless Shadow Man was there as well, reclining casually against a nearby tree, waiting for her.
"Hello, Erica," he said with the mouth that couldn't be seen, "Care to play a game? Of course, you know as well as I do that we're already playing a game, a game of the most dangerous sort, but perhaps you would care to play against me in chess? After all, you do seem to so enjoy playing chess against your friend Kroenen."
"If you know that then you also know that I always lose when I play chess with Kroenen." she said.
"Yes, I do," the Shadow Man said, somehow giving her the impression he was smiling, "But after all, it's not about winning or losing, is it? It's about the challenge involved. Of course, I must admit, I do rather prefer it when I win."
"If it's a challenge you're looking for, then why don't you go and play against Kroenen?" she asked.
"Because he has already lost. He's no challenge. I've already won where he's concerned. You on the other hand, I have yet to completely conquer, though I am nearly there. Therefore, you are to some extent a challenge."
She looked at the Shadow Man, feeling confused. He was so polite and eloquent, but there was a disturbing quality to his words.
"I don't understand what you're talking about." she said.
"Soon you shall, soon you shall. It's all a matter of time, really. Come, I already have the game board set up, as I have for quite some time. I've been looking forward to this last match of wits with you, I really have."
The Shadow Man gestured to the edge of the fountain where a chessboard was set up. She walked over and took a seat on the stone edge of the fountain. The Shadow Man did the same. Erica looked up at the gargoyle in the fountain, she didn't like it, it seemed to be staring straight at her. The stone gargoyle grinned manically at her, its bat wings spread behind it and its forked tongue sticking out from between its sharp teeth as if it was taunting her. She looked down at the chess pieces on the board and discovered that someone had been playing chess, the pieces were not in their starting positions, instead they were spread out across the board.
"As you can see, you've already been playing this game for a while now." the Shadow Man said, gesturing at the board, "And what a game it has been, too! It's been extremely entertaining, at least, from my point of view it has been."
"But…I don't remember ever playing chess against you." she said, feeling confused.
"Don't you remember? You and I have been playing this game for years now. And as with any game, ultimately there will be a winner. I'm very much looking forward to seeing which of us wins in the end, oh yes, very much! Make your move, if you can, after all, it is your turn."
Feeling very uncertain, she looked down at the board again. The Shadow Man's pieces were made of black obsidian, while her pieces were made from a grayish marble.
"Keep in mind that you're rapidly running out of time, Erica." the Shadow Man said, gesturing over his shoulder at the giant hourglass floating in midair.
Almost all the white sand at the top was gone, and the bottom of the hourglass was nine-tenths full of black sand. "And as you can see, I am winning." he said smugly, gesturing at the chessboard with a shadowy hand. She looked down at the chessboard. It was true, she only had a few pieces remaining: so far he had captured all of her most powerful pieces. All she had left were a scattering of pawns, her king, and a knight. He hadn't lost any of his pieces yet.
How am I supposed to win with these pieces? she thought, I practically have no moves left, most of my pieces are trapped by his. Suddenly, something occurred to her.
"What exactly are we playing for?" she asked, "What is the winner's prize?"
"Your most precious, most valuable treasure." the Shadow Man replied greedily.
"My most valuable treasure?" she asked, not liking the tone in his voice, "What do I have that's so valuable?"
"Don't you remember? I told you once before. Have you truly forgotten it so quickly? In any case, you'll be finding out what it is very soon. Oh yes, very soon indeed, Acire!"
She shuddered when he said her true name. Like when Grigory used it, the Shadow Man said her true name with a power and authority—almost as if he thought he could make her obey him. But she only obeyed one person, Grigory, her Master.
"I thought you said you weren't going to call me that." she said.
"As I have told you once before, I may call you what you are," the Shadow Man said, "And you may do the same to me if you know any of my other names. In the mean time, it is still your move."
She went back to staring at the chessboard, searching for a way to win. But it seemed hopeless and impossible, every move she considered was blocked by his black pieces. The Shadow Man watched her, the flickering shadows that made up his face somehow managing to give the impression he was smirking.
XXXXX
Meanwhile, back in her room, a rather unpleasant surprise was taking form. Kroenen had left the lab roughly half an hour ago to get a book from his study. On the way he had been …distracted by a few strange men who were wandering among the corridors of the mansion, completely lost. He had temporarily "taken care" of the men, who he suspected were either assassins or spies, by locking them in the cellars when they had so foolishly wandered through the door. Now he stood in the doorway of Erica's room with the intention of asking her what she wanted to do with the men.
However, some opportunities were just too good for him pass up, and this was one of them. After all, it wasn't every night that Erica was so sound asleep that you could enter her room without her waking up.
Completely unaware of his presence, Erica slept quietly, wrapped up in red silken sheets, her breathing slow and rhythmic. Her long brown hair spilled over her pillow and the moonlight streamed in through the window onto her pale face. He almost hated to disturb her—almost.
He laughed silently to himself as he took a small throwing knife from its sheath on his belt. Yes, he intended to play a trick on her and yes, he was intentionally going to irritate her, but one thing Kroenen wasn't was stupid. It would be foolish as well as dangerous to directly approach her while she was asleep. So, taking careful aim, he drew back his arm and threw the knife.
THUNK!
It buried itself in the headboard of Erica's bed, so close to her head that it nicked her ear as it went by. Erica's reaction was as if she had been shocked by electricity.
She sat up with a jerk and her gray eyes flew open, her pupils huge and dilated in the darkness. Her eyes flicked to him even as she reached instinctively for the small dagger strapped to her wrist, her sleep dazed mind screaming at her Assassin! Spy! Suddenly, as she became more aware of her surroundings, she looked at him and an expression of recognition passed over her face. For a moment, her hand paused as it reached for the dagger. However, her expression of recognition was almost instantly replaced by a look of anger and resolve. Almost faster that he could see, she drew the dagger— and threw it.
Like lightening it flew towards him, making a sharp 'zip' noise as it went. Kroenen sidestepped to avoid the dagger, but he miscalculated. The dagger flew by, but was close enough that it grazed him as it went by, ripping a hole in his pants leg just above his knee and making a shallow cut in his skin. The dagger continued on its path until it embedded itself into the frame of the doorway. Kroenen looked down at the cut and rip in his pants leg and then back up at Erica who was looking very angry.
"I suppose I deserved that, but that was a little below the belt for you, Erica." he said with a hint of amusement.
"Continue standing there and next time I'll aim a little bit higher. Then you'll really know what 'below the belt' means!" she said threateningly.
But Kroenen didn't leave. In one motion she reached for another knife lying on her bedside table and threw it at him. He sidestepped, but the knife struck him the chest with an odd, unpleasant sound, as if the blade had scraped against metal as well as bone. Kroenen merely glanced down at the dagger protruding from his chest, and then with a casual gesture he took it out and examined the hole in his chest. Through the hole Erica could see gears ticking and whirling, but no blood—Kroenen did not bleed. Kroenen gently fingered the hole in his chest, and then looked back up at Erica.
"Your aim is a little off this morning." he said.
Erica scowled at him and started reaching for another dagger.
"Don't you think you've done enough damage to me for one night?" Kroenen asked.
"No," she said flatly.
"Good."
"What?" she asked, looking at him with suspicion, "Why?"
"Because you have six murderously inclined 'visitors' downstairs. For the present, I trapped them in the cellars beneath the mansion. I thought you might like to decide what to do with them, as you appear to need something besides me to — ah, vent your anger on."
At the tone in his voice she looked at him as if seeing him for the first time since she woke up, and her eyes lingered on the hole in his chest.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to really hurt you," she said, sounding concerned, "But you really should have known better than to wake me up that way from the first sleep I've had in days."
He waved away her concern. "No matter. It's fixed easily enough. But what of your "guests"?"
She thought for a moment, glancing at a clock on her bedside table. It was four thirty in the morning, and since she was already awake she might as well get up.
"I'll go and deal with them now." she said.
"Good. I'll let them out of the cellars then— or at least, what's left of them." he laughed evilly.
"Don't bother. I'll go down to the cellar," said Erica, "I've been meaning to try out a few of your traps anyway. Of course, that's assuming my "visitors" haven't fallen into them already."
XXXXX
The assassins, for that was what they were, were lost. They nervously wandered through the underground rooms and passages—nervously because two of them had already been killed. The first had fallen through a trap door into an apparently bottomless pit, and the other had shrieked and then simply vanished into thin air the moment he had stepped into a room.
The remaining four assassins had been separated when two of them had gone through a doorway, and an impenetrable metal wall had slid into place, forcing each pair to go its separate way. One of these pairs was wandering down a corridor, their way lit by the single flashlight one of them carried. The men looked around them uneasily, knowing that The Angel of Death could be anywhere around them, stalking them in the shadows, watching them with cold gray eyes that burned like fire.
"Why on earth did we ever take this job?" one man muttered, "We should have known better, all those rumors about the assassins she's killed."
"You know there's no truth in rumors," the other said, trying to put on a brave front, despite the fact he was scared.
"There is in these! She's not called the Angel of Death for nothing! I bet all these accursed traps are her doing!"
"I doubt it. More likely to be the other one, Kroenen. He's more involved with gears and so on. I just hope we don't run into him."
"Um, I'm just wondering, supposing that she can actually see the future, won't she be expecting us?"
"Nah. She's supposed to be working on some top secret project, she'll be too tired for anything else. All we have to do is catch her unawares and then—!" he made a slashing motion across his throat.
The other man laughed. "That'll be a shock, won't it! Now if we could only find our way out of this infernal darkness—"
"I assure you that you won't." said a cold voice that froze the two men's blood.
A shadow detached itself from among the other shadows and approached them. Erica stood on the edge of the circle of light cast by their flashlight, hands on her hips, a cruel smile on her lips. The two men gaped at her, how had she appeared out of nowhere?
"Oh no, you won't find your way out of darkness," she said, "You'll find your way down into it as soon as you find your way out of life. And though I'm sure you're capable of eventually finding your lumbering way there on your own, thanks to Kroenen's traps, I decided that I'd help to speed you on your way."
With those words, she drew a sword.
"Hah!" laughed one of the men, "You're going to fight us with a sword? And what use is a sword against guns?" he started to pull out a handgun.
"So you're stupid as well as clumsy," she said as he cocked the gun, "Very well. If you think you have a chance of killing me in my own home, I wish you the very best of luck. Believe me, you will need it. And now, shoot, kill, or catch me if you can!"
As the man aimed the gun to shoot, she was suddenly gone, melted back into the shadows. But they could hear her footsteps as she ran down the corridor. The assassins followed the sound until they suddenly found themselves in the middle of an octagonal room. All eight walls were made of glass, and through the glass could be seen hundreds of enormous gears turning and ticking. At the opposite side of the room was Erica, still with the smile on her lips. There was no other way out of the room except for the doorway the two men were currently blocking. Both men smiled triumphantly and raised their guns, and Erica, almost casually, pressed her hand against the wall.
"Going down!" she said mockingly.
There was a click, and the floor of the room directly under the assassins vanished. She caught a glimpse of their pale, shocked faces before the men dropped down into the dark, spike lined pit. There was a sickening sound, and then all was silent.
With a satisfied smile she turned and left without so much as a backwards glance. There were other visitors to attend to, and she, as the hostess, must play the terrifying and murderous part they expected of her.
XXXXX
The two remaining assassins crept through the darkened corridors of the mansion. They had found the door to the cellars open, and had finally found their way through the mansion to the floor where Erica's bedroom was. One man motioned to the other and pointed to the door to Erica's bedroom.
"That's the one, come on." the assassin whispered.
Slowly, he turned the doorknob, and opened the door. They snuck inside silently. The bedroom was dark, except for the soft glow of moonlight that came through the window. They spotted the canopy bed over in the corner, the red velvet curtains drawn back so they could see a sleeping figure wrapped up in the blankets. The two men smiled at each other, this was going to be easy. She wouldn't even know what happened.
Unknown to them, Erica was not only awake, but she was also standing just outside the open doorway, watching them. The 'sleeping figure' in her bed was nothing more than a few pillows that she had arranged to trick the assassins into thinking she was asleep. She stood in the shadows, her black clothes helping her to blend in, and she kept both eyes on them, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The two assassins approached the bed, walking as quietly as they could. As one, they raised their guns to shoot.
"On the count of five," one whispered. "Five. Four."
Behind them, Erica noiselessly stepped through the doorway.
"Three."
She calmly walked up behind them, a long knife gripped tightly in each hand.
"Two. O—"
Her knives flashed in the moonlight, whistling sharply through the air. The assassins were dead faster then they could blink. Their bodies slumped to the floor with a soft thud.
"When will you ever learn?" she said, looking down at their shocked faces and smiling.
With that, she turned on her heel and headed downstairs.
As she entered the dining hall, she saw a servant. She called him over.
"There's a mess in my room that needs taken care of," she said to him, "I had some "visitors" whose stupidity disagreed with me."
The servant nodded, and walked off to fetch a cleaning crew.
Kroenen, who was sitting in a chair at the table, overheard her and smiled. "You have a wicked sense of humor." he said as she walked over.
"I know." she said, smiling and flopping into the chair across from him. She picked up an apple from the table and began tossing it in the air. Kroenen watched her.
"A lady should be more graceful." he said, mockingly reprimanding her.
"But I'm not a lady, am I? After all, a lady would have been murdered very quickly if she had been where I was."
"Then perhaps," he said, "it is a fortunate thing that you had a good teacher."
"Yes, very fortunate." she said, smiling.
"So, that's how many attempts to murder you? Nine?"
"Ten," she corrected, "and likely not to be the last. At least not until the Ragnarok Project is completed."
"You've foreseen another, then?"
"Not exactly," she said, trying to explain, "Only that someone else is going to try to kill me in the future."
"And do they succeed?"
"I don't know, but I doubt it." she said, smiling. "We will have to wait and see. Oh, and by the way, if you need spare parts for anything, I dropped two of the assassins into one of your pits in the cellars."
Kroenen just laughed. She truly did have a twisted sense of humor.
Author's Notes: I hope you liked this chapter, I was trying to show that Erica's fighting skills had improved, but that Kroenen was still better than her because of his "improvements". I also put in a lot of foreshadowing about what is about to happen, and if you saw the date at the beginning of the chapter, you know what's coming up! And major plot twists are coming up in the next chapter! Make me extremely happy and review please! (Or I'll send Kroenen after you to MAKE you review! Mwhahahahaha! Just kidding!)