Washington.
Kristo had been to D.C. once or twice. He had been dragged through the daylight from monument to monument by family, Some of it had been interesting, but, for the most part, Kristo found himself getting into trouble by wandering off. He had never really been one to just stand about and gawk at things; the shadow walker remained a creature of action his whole life. The shouts of his mother, drying out in horror as the boyish Kristo scaled the Lincoln monument still echoed in his ears.
With a smirk, the man wondered if he'd ever be allowed back in that hallowed space.
They stalked together, moving as one, cohesive pack. They were wolves, striding over the mall easily, crossing the space with little effort. Even Sakaki fell into place, skulking among the others. Only Robin seemed uneasy with how quickly even Amon fell into step with the group.
Smartly, Kristo ordered they leave the cars on the other side of the river, in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Somewhere, deep within the shadow walker lurked the dark and calculating soul of a warrior, a general even, perhaps. No. Robin correctly herself as she studied his stride, low and long, barely audible. In Kristo's chest beat the steady, unwavering heart of an assassin.
Robin glanced up to the moon above, hanging brightly in the sky. Normally, that would have been a good omen. However, this time, the moon had turned a sickly yellow red. It curved, like some terrible, haunting, cracked smile in the sky. It unsettled Robin enough to whisper a 'Hail Mary' or two. The Craft user should have run; she should have fled. Instead, the girl just balled her fist, readying her inner fire.
Suddenly, Kristo stopped.
Robin's heart leapt into her throat, slamming, throbbing there in fear. The shadow walker never stopped, not for anything, But, here, he had paused, along a clump of cherry trees, fragrant and blooming late into the season. The long-haired warrior just stood, waiting, listening. He cocked his head to one side, allowing every miniscule sound of the night to pour into him, through him. Kristo welcomed the night and shadow around him, reaching out for his inner gift.
Everyone else immediately steeled themselves.
Something was wrong. Something had to be to stop Kristo and put him on edge like that.
"Amon…" Robin whispered the words.
The shadow walker threw up a hand, silencing the entire group as he continued listening. But the grounds were silent and still, empty of all life, save the witches. Not a sound met any of them. Not a breath disturbed the silence of the night.
Kristo turned a hand to the side, amassing a well of inky shadows beside him. His gifts pulled at the very strings and fibers of the night, calling the darkness around him and accessing his own, deep, inner powers. Robin held her fire in her heart as Kristo's pale hand plunged into that hole in the universe, into the void. She held her breath as he slowly, steadily pulled his katana from the night its self, from a place hidden away from the entire world and from any eyes save Kristo's. The black swirled around the edge of the gleaming, steel blade, curling and embracing the weapon.
The abyss sealed upon its self, dissipating into nothingness.
Brett inched close behind his friend, his own flames ready, licking at his heart and soul, begging to be unleashed. He breathed the words coolly. "What is it?"
"We're not alone."
Brett nodded, squeezing his fist harder. "How many?"
"One."
Nycole reached out, unfurling her mind and unwrapping her consciousness. Her walls came down as her own gifts shot out, scouring the grounds around them. Here, in this spot, shone the bright lights of her friends, her compatriots. They twinkled and glittered as stars among a dark sky. But there was nothing else.
"Kristo, I can't feel anyone else," she hissed.
The swordsman shook his head. "Doesn't mean they're not there."
She shuddered, her blood running cold, freezing solid in her veins. Nycole was an empath, an Oracle. There was no way humanly possibly any living thing could evade her secret sight. Nothing. Nothing on earth. Only Kristo could, but only when he left this plain for the abyss, loosing touch with reality and this dimension. In truth, that was cheating. This creature, whatever it was, wasn't cheating.
"What are they doing?" Brett leaned close, glancing this way and that.
"Not moving." Kristo sounded terse and curt, focusing on whatever subtle clues he saw that the others could not. "Watching us." He paused for a moment. "It's been following us for a while now. I just didn't have the heart to tell you."
Brett closed his eyes slowly. A bad sign. A very bad sign. Kristo was nothing but honest and open, especially with concerns of safety of their little family. Brett had never known Kristo to hide anything from anyone. The man just didn't care about emotions; he cared only for facts and that which HAD to happen. For something to make the shadow walker keep silent for so long, it had to be bad. This couldn't just be some pick-pocket or standard police officer. No, this had to be something far worse.
Brett ran the possibilities through his mind. Soldier of Solomon? No. Kristo would have just turned and killed them. Mugger? Same thing. Cop? No. The swordsman would have just tried to lose him in the park.
Thinking back, crossing the Mall had been a rather unusual change of direction. The witches had just followed Kristo without a second thought, trusting the man to lead them straight to wherever Kathain was being held. They put their lives in his hands, and the man took an odd turn. Even their path through the park had been twisting and turning, cutting this way and that through places no tourist was ever meant to see. Kristo had already tried loosing the form.
"Why did you stop now if it's been there the whole damn time?" Geoff snarled under his breath.
"Because it got closer."
In some distant life, Kristo had been an assassin. There was no doubt about it, especially in a moment like that. And, at that moment, every inch of his mind screamed one, terrifying though.
They were being hunted.
Amon instinctively reached for his gas gun, and found the cold, uncomforting metal of one of Kristo's guns. He hefted the weapon, knowing the recoil would shatter through his arm, racing from wrist to shoulder with a harsh slam. It wasn't anything he hadn't already tried before.
"Brett," Kristo barely breathed the word. "Get the others out of here."
And, with that, the man melded with the darkness of the night, feeding his own predatory nature. Brett watched Kristo as he went, knowing the dark satisfaction within his friend, the urge to fight and win.
"Let's go."
xxxx
The night embraced and caressed it's child, Kristo. The man was a creature born of dark of black, of night and void. He was a true artist, in every sense of the word. And the nocturnal abyss always felt so welcoming, so loving, cradling him into the shadows. Upon his will, the hold of the night released him, and Kristo returned to the world, falling lightly to a crouch, his sword drawn, his eyes and ears open. His muscles remained loose and fluid, waiting for whoever and whatever was to come.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Kristo taunted at no one.
A singular leaf crackled in the distance. It was a mild, but fatal error. Kristo now knew exactly where his attacker approached from. The swordsman could now pinpoint the motion of their stalker.
"Hello, my friend," the shadow walker teased again. "Why don't you just come out and play?"
The shadows took form as a shape stepped from them. But, unlike Kristo who hid within the abyss of the dark, this one was a creature of the real world, of this realm. How had Nycole not felt it?
The form stood behind him, ready for battle, obviously. It was tall and lanky, thinly and lithely built. The creature had a birdlike grace and lightness to its construction. It's entire body had been clad in dark wraps and clothes, tightly enclosing the person, but allowing for total freedom in movement. A skull cap, scarf, and dark glasses hid the face of this nocturnal predator from Kristo.
No matter.
He ran a finger down the honed edge of his katana. "Shall we play a game?"
As if to answer, a twin set of throwing knives flew through the air. The first, Kristo easily dodged, as did he the second. But, when a third came, right at the spot Kristo was moving into to avoid the second, the swordsman was almost hit. He brought up the blade of his katana just fast enough to knock the throwing knife away.
Kristo's eyes flash up, seeing that his attacker had retreated back to the darkness.
It took a moment for the shadow walker's keen ears to pick up on the attacker and pinpoint a location. This person was good. He could see Kristo's own movements, knew exactly how the swordsman would react to anything. He could plan ahead for whatever Kristo threw at him. Just to prove it, Kristo kicked up a pebble into the shadows, right at where he knew his opponent stood. A quick rustle of leaves alerted Kristo to the assassin's movement as the creature stepped lightly out of the way of the pebble, knowing exactly where it would hit.
Kristo grinned to himself, reaching a hand behind him and into the abyss, feeling about for a familiar, metal form. "I see. A challenge?"
The person in the shadows refused to answer.
Delicious shivers rolled down Kristo's spine, relishing the very thoughts of what was to come as his hand found purchase on a leather bound, rounded shape. He slowly eased the form from the shadows and into reality. His eyes had adjusted long ago, and the form moved forward, just close enough for Kristo to make out the shape in the dark. Devilish glee flickered like white flames behind the swordsman's eyes.
This death would be quick.
His dagger went flying faster than every before, screaming through the air in an instant, moving with a flash. Kristo grinned, knowing it would hit home.
But it didn't.
The blade stopped.
Somehow, damn him, this attacker had known. The assassin had reached out, grabbing with a sure hand, finding the hilt of the blade and not the sharp edge itself. Kristo's opponent stood cockily as the man tried desperately not to gape. No one, not ever, had been able to stop him there.
The assassin gave a cool nod, hurling the blade back. Kristo reached out, grabbing at air, feeling hot agony scream across his palm, as his skin shrieked with the icy burning of hot steel carving through flesh. His hand still curled around the blade, responding to Kristo's commands as if forced to hold the thing, despite the agony it caused. Kristo stood, his left hand dripping blood as it held the blade end of the weapon. He shook slightly but retained that almost sadistic smile, spread from ear to ear now. Any one else would have cackled madly at that moment, as the assassin just gave a slight bow of his head, but not Kristo.
Instead, Kristo dropped the blood-splattered blade to the ground with a clatter and bowed his head, never taking his dark eyes from his attacker.
"Let's dance."
xxxx
I done.
That's it. End of story. Everyone's dead.
Oh, wait… it's not the end yet? Well… damn.