Black Eyes Chapter 13: Sacrifices IV, a toaru majutsu no index/とある魔術の禁書目録 fanfic

This story is a derivative fanwork written by GodandMen for the Toaru Majutsu no Index/とある魔術の禁書目録 franchise.

SACRIFICES

-x-

The oni accepted battle.

The magnificent flames came forwards to greet him, swallowing his entire being within its terrifying power.

But his Zantetsken effortlessly cut through its falsehood.

He emerged from under her fiery attack, landing on the soft grass with a roll. His MP9 machine pistol was at the ready. It spewed out a short burst just as he pushed forwards again with his katana.

The oni send another torrent of flames flooding towards him. His Zantetsken came up again to deflect the fire but he realized that it was just a ruse.

So he chose instead to sidestep it, choosing instead to fire another burst from the MP9 at where she must be.

He's got her.

The puny 9mm rounds tumbled harmlessly into the bushes, without any target in sight. Nothing. A ruse for a ruse. And then he saw it: a flash of silver in the dark.

She placed two rounds into his chest.

The wicked shockwave of the bullets rippled through his torso. Luckily his plate carrier absorbed the worst of it.

Now the little machine pistol began pivoting again, trying to gain on its target. By the time it started hissing again she had already disappeared into the maze.

Biting down on the pain, he scoffed dismissively and gave chase.

They were pushing him.

The suppressive fire grew heavier, shattering through the hedge's walls. The figures were moving quite aggressively now, bounding forwards from cover to cover. They must have realized that he was alone and had no real weapon.

Jim melted back into the shadows of the hedgerow's dark corners, biding his time to retreat and distract his pursuers.

Then they stopped.

Jim sensed them quickly clearing off from their pursuit. They fired off a barrage of short bursts, to deter him and make some noise, but they withdrew into the shadows quickly afterwards.

Strange…

Jim bit his cheek.

A retreat?

Unlikely.

A trick?

Ambush?

It was definitely coordinated.

Jim knew that the killer had already taken off from the hut. Perhaps they were pursuing him?

That was the most likely scenario but Jim did not want to take any bets. He's been messing with them for a while; long enough for them to call for reinforcements. It might be a feint to draw him into an ambush.

Jim knew that if it were not for the Lady's blessing he would be long dead. And it was an advantage whose limits he had no interest in pushing.

So instead of going straight back to the center Jim made a detour around the outer edges, creeping his way forwards slowly and methodically. He kept the few knives he had left at the ready in his hands.

There was no one.

Finally he came back to the edges of the opening, slowly scanning the surroundings with his other sight. The only response that greeted him was the silent rustling of the leaves and the faint echo of suppressed gunfire in the distance.

There was no one around the hut.

"Ah yes, of course. Unfortunately Nakao-sama was unable to attend tonight. She needed to be with her family, you see. Regardless, she wanted everyone to have a wonderful night in celebration of her birthday."

The guests nodded and began whispering to each other again.

But the MC's broad smile was interrupted by the graceful vibrations of his iPhone 21X.

"Now, you must excuse me for a moment, I need to take a call."

He excused himself from the company and walked towards a quiet corner of the soiree.

As he made his way to the corner he passed by some other guests and chatted amicably with them, effortlessly flowing along with the flow of the conversation. He was also able to exit the conversation whenever he pleased without a hint of awkwardness.

It was his job after all: to be friendly to the guests, to facilitate their merriment and of course, most of all, to help them enjoy the night.

Finally he found the secluded corner and answered the impatient call.

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"My dear, how is the party going?"

"Why, it is going just fine. Quite marvelously too, if I may say so myself!"

"Ah, it's a joy to hear that. However, I'm afraid that our friend is in need of your assistance. You see, it seems like the...unwelcome guests in the garden have become very insolent with their behavior."

"Tsk! Tsk! How rude of them! But certainly, I shall see to the matter immediately. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

"Of course, it's always a pleasure. I wish you a wonderful evening, my dear."

He put the phone away and smiled cheerfully again. The MC walked off, whistling a tune in his mouth as he passed by the guests.

Of course, it was his job after all.

He was the MC.

It was a job that many seemed to take for granted. Few remembered what the title actually meant. But he did, oh yes. He remembered what they meant. He remembered what his job had originally meant many, many centuries ago.

It was his job to ensure that everything went according to plan.

After all, he was the Master of Ceremonies.

Jim looked down at the footprints.

It was a fucking mess.

The entire opening was chaotic tangle of tracks from everyone that that had been in the area; there were grey, red, blue and green footprints.

They all overlapped each other and some were even in the hut. He tried to strain his eyes to see what was in the center but there was nothing except the green stain on the floor.

Something was nibbling away at his eyelids.

Ah yes, I've overstayed my welcome.

While his second sight was very useful, it did not come free.

After all, the Lady did not bestow her gifts without something in return.

Just like it was with his arm, his other eyes had a price as well. Luckily for him it was not as drastic as his ravenous arm. As long as he made sparing use of it, his eyes would not hurt as much.

Jim bit his cheek, knowing he won't have much time left. After making a decision he took a moment stretched his neck and his legs. Then a last look around the opening.

All clear.

He dashed out into the open, heading straight for the hut in the middle.

The oni knew no grace.

Even though his senses hadn't recovered completely, he could still hear her labored breathing as she bounded through the maze. He pressed his microphone again and whispered more instructions to the team also in hot pursuit.

But he knew that they were too slow. The oni would easily evade their pursuit if he was not tracking her personally.

Only he could stop the fiery demon.

He landed on the top of the hedge for a moment, to take one last reading of her position. Then another graceful leap.

The shinobi smiled as he felt the wind bid him fortune. His Zantetsken was screaming now, howling like a crazed animal for the taste of the oni's flesh. Soon he would be onto his prey once more.

This time he shall not make the same mistake he did with the wolf.

His fingers tugged at the MP9's trigger.

I shall gut you like a fish!

Finally he came upon the corner that his prey was hiding within.

It seems like even the oni had accepted its fate at his Zantetsken's judgment. He landed once, taking in his bearings, before making the final, fated leap of death.

Just as his black form emerged from the top of the bushes, with his fiery katana at his side, he saw something floating upwards in the air.

The objects had come from the corner from which the oni had taken refuge. The shinobi narrowed his eyes. He sailed forwards still, coming closer and closer to these alien objects glinting in the moonlight.

It was the same mistake, again.

And thus the blinding white light engulfed him once more, overwhelming his senses with its thunderous roar and the screeching sun.

The flashbangs exploded.

He was blind, not defenseless.

His little machine pistol began yapping again, as soon as he hit the ground. He managed a clumsy roll and ducked behind something.

He assumed that it was some form of cover.

It wasn't.

The fire promptly ate its way through the back of his neck. He swung around with his Zantetsken in a crazed swing, trying to ward off the oni's flames.

A cascade of empty casings rained from his machine pistol. The bullets came spewing out in a wide arc, desperately trying to hit something. Anything.

He felt a single, solitary round whizz past his head.

It was hopeless.

He was blind and defenseless.

But he did not falter. He certainly did not entertain the dishonor of fleeing from battle.

If the oni wanted his head, then she shall have to fight for it. He would not give her the pleasure of seeing his back.

If I am fated to meet Death, then let us dine in hell tonight!

Stupid snakes.

Malyana pulled his Beretta back as another of his rounds whipped past her hand. He was firing blindly now, like some idiot, while swinging his sword around like a crazed drunkard.

The old soldier just waited patiently; with him firing the sidearm on full automatic, it should not be long now.

Click!

His magazine was dry.

She moved forwards, emerging temporarily from cover, with her Beretta at the ready. But before she could align the side arm's iron sights on the dark figure she was greeted by something else.

A burst of fire ripped into the hedge right next to her head.

The muzzle contact was different from the incessant yapping of the snake's machine pistol.

Malyana wanted to take the last shot at the stupid snake. But they didn't allow it. She could tell that their beams of lasers were quickly converging onto her position. Another withering hail of fire came cutting through the hedge walls.

The team had arrived.

Malyana pivoted her foot and ducked into the cover of the shadows. The old soldier sighed noiselessly. But it was not the time to complain.

She pulled apart from the snakes again, retreating from her pursuers once more.

I'm dead.

Someone will send a burst into his back.

However the frantic sprint to the center proved to be short and uneventful; the mongrel arrived in the hut safely and without incident. There was no real cover but he still knelt down behind one of the pillars.

He took a good look around.

First the boring stuff.

There was a simple tea table with some bottle of fancy alcohol on it. Wine or champagne, whatever. There were also a couple of chairs around and a trash can in the corner. They did not interest him.

Now the interesting bits.

There was a dead man lying dead on the hut's stone floors.

Through his other sight Jim saw that he was positioned over an elaborate magic circle. It was still glowing with a greenish essence. It was the same aura of magic that he had seen in the house.

He knelt down and – after checking that he was still wearing gloves – lifted the man's body.

He realized that the magic circle was specifically a pentagram; a circle with a five pointed star within it. Makes sense, satan or whatever. He noted that the four limbs of the man were each spread over a particular point of the star, with his head making up for the fifth.

But there was a sixth point.

It was located directly in the middle of the magic circle.

Jim looked over the shape and realized that there was some sort of drawing within it; no, not a drawing…

He scratched his head and tried to remember the word.

A seal, I guess?

He looked over the glowing seal once more, trying to commit it to memory. It seemed like there was a shape of some sort within the seal.

To Jim it looked like some sort of…

A scale?

An inverted candle holder?

Yes, yes, it kind of reminded him of the candle holders in Orthodox churches. Except the corners on this one was straight and the spots for the candles were inverted.

Jim rifled through the bag of the killer.

He found not much other than the expected saw blades and plastic bags. There was also the equipment needed to draw the sigil like the bottle of cat urine and the paintbrush, but none of it was particularly interesting.

Then he found the brochure.

It seemed to be a pamphlet for some sort of museum in Academy City. Jim could not read the text with his other sight but he could tell there were some scribbles on its pages.

He tucked the brochure into the jacket; it was could prove to be an important clue.

But Jim's observations were interrupted by a familiar sensation: the worms were trying to burrow their way out of his closed eyes.

Jim stopped.

He clutched his eyes and immediately bide farewell to the darkness that he had beckoned to him earlier in the night. His fingers clawed vainly at his closed eyes, trying to dislodge them from under his eyelids. They were greedily nibbling away at veins in his eyelids.

He resisted the temptation to open his eyes.

The moment he opened them his eyes would be blinded by the true darkness that he had been flirting with all night.

Instead, like countless times before, his panic was pushed down by a harsh, experienced calmness. He took a deep breath, trying to get a feel for the shadows that have been holding him in an embrace all night.

It was still clinging to his back.

And so just like it was all those years ago in the deep, dark woods Jim tried to remember.

He tried to remember the sun cutting through the morning mist of the mountains. He would stop just to listen to the birds waking up. In the distance the majestic mountains would slope towards the horizon, reaching the edges of the Black Sea.

He tried to remember the heat, the jitters in his steps, whenever the Spring Solstice came again. he always terrible at it: clumsy feet paired with an idiotic smile as he held tightly onto her hand.

But most of all he tried to remember her nightmares. She would wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat. He tried to remember how he would tuck her into bed again, brushing his hand over her hair until she went back to sleep.

Just like it was all those years ago in the deep, dark woods, Jim tried to remember the little shards of light in the darkness.

He could not.

Instead what came to his mind were only faded echoes. It was a past that felt terribly foreign to him. He was watching someone else's experiences; the life of someone he never knew or cared about.

Someone who died in the Woods.

Jim could not remember.

And the worms continued to nibble away.

Is this it?

A small, tired smile spread across his face.

It was bound to happen one of these days.

He slowly sat down.

One of these days.

"Sir! Are you alright? Sir!"

He roughly pushed the operator's hands away as he stood up unsteadily. He did not want to show any weakness to his men. The shinobi's hands clutched his katana so hard that the tsuka rattled slightly under his strength.

"What are you doing here, you imbeciles?! Go find her! We must not lose sight of the target."

Just as he said this they all heard a loud, booming voice echoing through the night. The operators froze for a moment, with their submachine guns covering every angle around them.

But their alarm was unwarranted.

"Hello, hello! Hello everyone! How is everyone doing this wonderful night? Are you not entertained by tonight's wonderful performances?!"

It was the MC.

"Well, fear not! Because there has been a change of plans and Nakao-sama has very generously decided to open the Garden Maze ahead of schedule!"

The flames of anger and frustration burned brightly in his heart, but he knew it was futile. The operators turned back to him for his orders. They all knew what this new development meant for the operation.

He did not want to say it, but he had to. The shinobi pressed his microphone and whispered the inevitable.

"All Alpha call signs, this is Alpha Actual. Fall back, I repeat, fall back. All Alpha call signs regroup at rendezvous point Charlie, out."

"Do I have to pay money for this?"

Tessou giggled at the expression on his face.

"No, Jim-san. Well, if you want something different you can buy it, but the main meal is free. You see, Anti-Skill officers need to eat well so that they are healthy and strong."

The cadet was suspicious.

But she was right. When it came to his turn in the queue, Jim began explaining very carefully that he wanted the FREE MEAL. The cafeteria lady raised her eye brows at how insistent he was. Then she realized who he must be.

"Ah, you must be the new cadet!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"First day on the job?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She was already handing him the tray when she heard his words. Before Jim's greedy hands got onto the tray it was pulled back again. She started adding more dishes.

"No! No!" Jim began frantically, "I don't want anything else! Just the free stuff!"

The nice lady laughed at his desperation but didn't stop. When she handed the tray back – now filled with a generous helping of extra dishes – she soothed his concerns.

"Don't worry, it's on the house! A special deal for you because it's your first day. A young man like you need nutrition!"

The mongrel resisted the urge to stare suspiciously. He stopped himself and instead bowed her head at her kindness. But she only laughed raucously at his exaggerated politeness.

Jim took his tray and quickly fled from the cafeteria window, in case she changed her mind.

Tessou and Jim sat down at an empty table.

Jim had spent the large part of the early afternoon cleaning the toilet so he had missed lunch at the regular time. And Tessou was on the night watch. So the two of them decided to eat a late afternoon meal together.

The cadet studied his treasures.

By his judgment the bowl of rice was supposed to be the main food while the other side dishes were meant to flavor it. The side dishes included: a bowl of soup with tofu, a strip of salted fish, a sheet of seaweed, some sort of deep fried pork (?) and lastly some sort of pickled (?) vegetables.

A feast indeed!

"Oh Tessou-senpai, which of this is the free stuff?"

She glanced over his tray.

"Umm…I think the rice, miso soup and seaweed are free."

Jim nodded approvingly as he poked his food some more. It was not a bad deal, considering that they would be feeding him every day. Nothing free is ever bad!

But the next problem was the cutlery. Jim – of course! – knew that Japanese people used chopsticks. But he had no real idea how to use them.

Tessou giggled again at the cadet's perplexed expression.

In the end Jim just gave up; he got himself a spoon. He went back to his seat and sat down happily, finally ready to begin his feast.

"Jim, you should learn how to use chopsticks."

Yomikawa's voice startled him slightly but he did not look up from his food. She sat down at their table with a bowl of ramen.

"Well, I'm a foreigner, so…"

"How did the patrol go, Yomikawa-san?"

Jim started to look up but decided that the rice was more interesting.

He was surprised by how soft and warm the rice grains tasted in his mouth. It seems like Japanese rice was cooked differently compared to the barley porridge he was used back home.

"Same as usual. Any news about the killer, Tessou?"

"Unfortunately not."

"Well, we'll be on night watch tonight so if there's any news we should be the first to hear about it."

The salted fish's texture was also softer than Jim expected. The saltiness was just right, not too much or too little. Unlike the salted fish he was used to, this one was did not seem to be dried or smoked.

The next was the deep fried pork…

Yomikawa smiled at how Jim carefully tasted each of the dishes carefully. The funniest part was how after every taste the boy would rub his chin and nod his head approvingly.

"So, how's Japanese food, Jim? You like it?"

He gave her a bright thumbs up.

"Jim-san, is it really different from what you eat in…ah…"

"Bulgaria. Yes, Tessou-senpai, it's pretty different. We eat a lot more bread and potatoes, or at least stuff made from potatoes. And meat. But this is good too! Do Japanese people eat a lot of rice?"

"Yeah, we eat rice basically every meal."

"Lieutenant, lieutenant, what is it you're eating? The noodle thing. It looks really good with all that stuff on it."

"This is ramen, Jim..."

He turned to Tessou.

"…and Tessou has udon."

"Yes, that's right. Would you like to try some, Jim-san?"

The cadet nodded eagerly and Tessou gave him some of her thick udon noodles and even a little of the broth. Jim marveled at how her fingers were able to deftly manipulate the chopsticks to deal with the noodles.

Jim tasted the udon. It was good! The noodles felt springy and flavorful. He had expected the broth to be thicker, but the tangy freshness was good in its own way.

Yomikawa saw the wheels in his head slowly turning as he pivoted his head to her side. His eyes were greedily fixed on her ramen. Some part of her wanted to hear what he would say, but her impatience got the better of her.

"Yes, yes, Jim, you can have some of my ramen. Here."

Jim felt like the ramen noodles were smaller and chewier than the udon. But it was still pretty good!

When he looked up he saw both Yomikawa and Tessou staring intently at him, as if they were waiting for him to say something. Tessou spoke up first.

"So?!"

"Um…"Jim began uncertainly, "…what?"

"Which is better, Jim-san?!"

"Oh…you mean between the noodles?"

"Yes, Jim. You are a foreigner. So you are impartial. Now tell us, which is better?"

The intensity of their stare was making him uncomfortable. He felt like there was no way to side with one without the other getting angry. In any case, it wasn't like Jim knew enough of either to have a preference.

"They're…both good?"

Yomikawa scoffed.

"Cop-out. Pick one!"

"Yes, Jim-san. Which one do you prefer more?"

"Uh…"

Suddenly a bright idea struck him.

"Well, I'm a foreigner. I haven't tasted enough to know. So…I kinda need more…samples."

"This guy…"

Tessou actually pushed her bowl forwards to offer her udon as further sampling. But when she saw Yomikawa rolling her eyes she realized his plan as well. She sheepishly took her bowl back before Jim could snatch anything from it.

"Jim-san, you liar! You just wanted to eat more. You're so sly, I almost fell for it."

"No, no, Tessou-senpai, I was just trying to…"

"See? I told you Tessou. Be careful around this kid. If you aren't on your guard he'll rob you blind."

"Yes, you're right Yomikawa-san. I will be more careful now!"

Jim clenched his fists in frustration at the failure of his plan. So close! But his frustrations were soothed over by some more of the tofu soup and a piece of the crunchy meat – he realized that it was actually chicken.

"But why do you care so much anyways? Does it matter which is better? The u..udi? Udion?"

"Udon. Yes, it's very important! Yomikawa-san believes that ramen is better than udon!"

"I don't believe, Tessou, I know that ramen is better than udon."

"That's nonsense, Yomikawa-san. Everyone knows udon is better than ramen!"

Jim continued eating as he watched the two grown women bickering with each other. He knew that they weren't serious about it but he cut in with a question.

This was a good opportunity to ask them about things in Japan.

"Oh, oh! I wanted to ask something. When I was arrested – "

"Detained."

"– arrested and detained, they gave me something in the interrogation room. It was like rice with a big piece of meat, pork I think? And it had like eggs and stuff and also some yellow juice. What is that?"

"It's called katsudon, Jim-san. It's a common meal to give to suspects in interrogation rooms."

"Did the officer talk about your mother? Like 'what would your –"

Recognition flashed in Jim's eyes.

"Yeah, yeah! The dude kept saying 'does it taste as good as your mother's food' and also 'what would your mother think about what you've become'. It was so weird! What was up with that!?"

"It's a common tactic. Appeal to the suspect's guilt."

"Well, that thing tasted really good. Where can I get it?"

Tessou started to say something but she was cut off by Yomikawa.

"Jim, you can't get it outside the station. It's only for police interrogation rooms."

"What?! What do you mean I can't get it outside?"

Tessou shot a questioning glance at her but quickly caught on.

"It's a secret recipe, Jim-san. Only the police, the Japanese police and Anti-Skill I mean, knows how to cook it."

The boy was bewildered.

"What? It's a secret?! Like…you can't make it at home? Tessou-senpai, are you sure? That makes no sense though…"

"No, Jim, it's actually true. You cannot make katsudon outside of police stations. It's actually illegal. There is a law for it. If you are caught making katsudon at home you can actually go to jail."

Jim almost spit out the food in his mouth. He shot a sideway glance at Yomikawa, considering her deadpan expression.

"You're joking…right? You can't be serious…"

"It's true, Jim-san. One of my academy friends actually went to jail for cooking katsudon. They only let her off lightly because she was a cadet training to be an Anti-Skill officer. If she was just a civilian…."

Tessou shuddered at the thought of it.

The boy stared at them in disbelief.

He had serious doubts about what they were saying but their deadly serious expression made him reconsider.

"Jim, you're a foreigner. You might not understand but it makes sense. If the recipe was public knowledge then it wouldn't be effective in interrogation rooms. That's why it's secret. That way when suspects are always surprised by how delicious it tastes. They gave it to you after starving you, right?"

"Yeah, that's true…I didn't get any food for like an entire day…"

"Exactly. It's planned. So you can understand how important it is to keep the recipe secret."

He leaned back into his chair with a shocked expression.

"Oh wow…that's so crazy!"

Jim cautiously looked around the deserted cafeteria before leaning forwards on the table. He whispered the next words very carefully.

"Tessou-senpai, lieutenant, do you guys know the recipe?"

The two women wanted to laugh so badly, but they somehow managed to hold it in.

Tessou looked down at her udon, shaking her head grimly. Yomikawa made an effort of hushing him before he asked anymore questions. Their actions made a very strong impression on the boy and he sat back down in his chair quietly.

"So, anything else you wanted to ask about? You need to be careful Jim, being a foreigner does not excuse you if you commit a crime. Ignorance is not a defense in the eyes of the law."

"Oh shit! Wait, wait, what about…"

You're pathetic.

He remembered the cafeteria again. He remembered the feel of the wooden chopsticks, the smell of the steamy rice and the feeling of the lazy afternoon sun slowly dying as it sunk below the horizon, basking the cafeteria in its warm afterglow.

The worms finally stopped struggling as they disintegrated into the familiar black dust. It came flowing from his eyelids, freeing them from the darkness of the night.

Jim opened his eyes.

But he could still remember the way he didn't want to leave the cafeteria. He wanted to sit there forever, with the trays of tasty food, chatting away with Tessou and Yomikawa about things that didn't matter.

You're so fucking pathetic.

There was a concussion swirling through his head, courtesy of the little girl's pebble and the snake's fists. He could still feel the slop of burnt skin and melted flesh clinging to the thin dressing on his ribs. Last but not least there was his left arm screeching with pain as the spasms wrecked his nerves with each pulsating wave.

But Jim just sat there, and all he could think of was the taste of her brackish coffee.

The tired mongrel stared at the dead victim lying on the floor in front of him.

If only she knew…

But she didn't.

She didn't know.

He got up again, wearily. But there was also relief in his chest.

Tomorrow he can go to the station again and she'll give him another cup of her terrible coffee. Then she'll tell him about how the killer has made another move. After that she'll drag him out to the patrol car and the two of them will go off to the scene.

Like Sherlock and Watson.

It was fucked up, but…he was glad she didn't know.

Jim made some last checks around the pavilion. There were no more clues. He had heard some loud announcements coming from the party, which could only mean that the Garden Maze would be open soon. He needed to make his escape before the snakes locked the area down.

Time to go home.

Most interesting…

It was a most peculiar darkness, certainly. It was a school of magic – a power, a vein of the Art – that even she, in her boundless wisdom, did not recognize.

But strangest of all: the young man did not strike her as a trained magician. He certainly knew how to make use of his skills, yes, but he was not one who has studied the Art.

Alas, her musings shall have to wait for a more suitable time.

She had other matters to attend to.

The little girl stood up and lifted the lid of the garbage can. After some fumbling – a vain attempt to remain quiet – her injured ankle eventually failed her. The entire can toppled over with a scandalous roar. She was rudely flung out onto the cold, stone floor of the pavilion.

The old master gathered what little dignity she could muster and gingerly rose to her feet, leaning against a pillar for support. She wished to avoid further antagonizing her injured ankle.

Index Librorum?

She smirked.

I dare say Index Purgamentum is more fitting!

No time to indulge in her childish fits. It would be unwise to tarry. Before she began her task, the old master quickly glanced over the fresh sigil like a teacher judging her pupil's work.

Sloppy as ever…but it'll do!

The little girl couldn't help but shake her head at his incompetence.

Presently she dropped to her knee and began wiping away the sigil. As the details of the magic circle disappeared beneath her dirty dress – used as a piece of rag in her hands – her thoughts went back to the young man again.

He must have seen the sigil.

With his eyes.

Does he know?

He may not be trained in the Art, but it was always possible that he recognized the sigil and his name.

She must also take into consideration the fact he was not some obscure entity, not by any means. So even if the young man did not recognize the sigil surely it would not be difficult to discover his name.

Still, she preferred the young man's presence compared to someone else more knowledgeable in the Art.

If another magician saw the sigil it would surely spell trouble…

Once she was finished with her task, the little girl tried to stand up again.

Instead she collapsed quietly onto the stone floor.

This time the culprit was not her ankle, nay. Nay.

Just like the young man, she also had a price to pay.

The old master knew that the Art always asked its dues, and in her case it was certainly not cheap. Unlike normal magicians, the girl could not count on a natural supply of mana to fuel her spells.

Instead, she paid with her own life.

Perhaps she should be grateful that a growling stomach was the only symptom she experienced from this weighty exchange. But even then it gave her no solace, for the gnawing hunger pierced the little girl and gripped her entire being with its strength.

But the old master was no stranger to the hunger. It was a dear old companion with whom she had long since made her peace.

The little girl with ashen hair mustered her strength and got onto her feet. After a moment to catch her breath, she slowly stumbled off into the dark undergrowth of the hedge walls. Her small frame disappeared into the garden maze without a whisper.

Pain.

Everything hurt.

His head hurt. His legs hurt. His arms hurt. His tongue hurt. His ears hurt.

Everything hurt.

He had no idea how he was still running but he was. He was stumbling along the maze like a blind rat, desperately trying to save his wretched skin.

But what really shocked him was the fact that when he got up after waking up, he had the presence of mind to take his iPad with him.

How did he remember to do that?

He didn't know. The only thing he remembered was how his hands naturally reached out for it and groped for it blindly in the dark.

But some part of him asked himself if that was really him, if that was really him who reached out for the iPad immediately after waking up, after being smashed in the head.

Was it also really him, the meek, docile academic that had the courage to make a beeline for the hedges as the bullets angrily chased after him?

Was it him…or was it someone else?

He did not know.

And he did not care.

If it was someone else, then so be it. If it was someone else, not him, who escaped from the men with the guns and the terrifying angel, then so be it.

Perhaps that someone else can escape from this maze as well…

She smiled and took another sip of her champagne.

But she was not drinking it. Instead, she was just putting the glass against her mouth. In reality she would discreetly empty the glass little by little on a nearby bush when nobody was looking.

She was not here to drink.

By alternating through different actions for cover, her eyes would periodically glance over at the western entrance of maze. Each time she spotted the same security guard standing there; he had been there since the beginning of the night.

She knew that the tactical team would not exit from the entrance. They had a special route for infiltration and extraction.

She was not watching the entrance for someone else.

She adjusted her purse's thin straps on her shoulders again, savoring the weight of the compact Beretta 21A pistol. All she needed to do was press a particular part of the hinge on her purse and a subsonic .22 LR round would be whispered out to the target.

But she knew that it was not needed.

It would be unseemly to blow her cover like this. It was not her job to be shooting people; they had the tactical team for that.

All she needed to do was to watch and observe.

Fourteen hours.

He yawned.

Fourteen fucking hours!

He's been standing in the same spot for fourteen fucking hours! He didn't even have anything interesting to do. The most exciting thing he's done all day is to shoo some curious guest away from the maze before it was open.

What was there to see anyway?

It's a maze!

That's it!

What did you expect?

Well, at least pay was good.

He placed his hands into the pockets of his SECURITY jacket and yawned again. Just as he turned around, ready to do another round of his patrolling, his wish for action was finally answered.

He heard someone calling out to him.

"Hey! I need your help!"

She felt it before she heard it.

The slap was weak, but very dramatic.

She turned around to face her assailant, her reflex reaching for her purse and her experience stopping it. She found herself facing another guest who was dressed in a provocative gown.

She was spitting fire.

"How dare you seduce my husband!"

"I'm afraid you are mistaken – "

But she never got to finish because the woman reached for her hair and began pulling it, dragging her forwards. Once again her instinct told her to grapple the other woman and pin her down in a rear naked choke. But she did not do that; it would only attract more unnecessary attention.

So she went along with it, putting up a show of feeble resistance as befitting a cultured lady.

She tried to keep her eyes fixed on the entrance, but the crowd of guests gathering around – halfheartedly trying to pull the two apart – quickly obscured her line of sight.

He turned around and saw the MC walking up to him.

"There are some drunk guests fighting with each other! I need you come help me."

The security guard groaned internally and shook off his drowsiness. Well, at least it was something interesting. He followed the slim MC away from the maze and towards the nearby crowd of guests gathering around the two women.

A couple minutes later, a haggard man in glasses came stumbling out of the hedgerow maze's entrance. He looked around for a bit, clutched the iPad closer to his chest and then ran off into the night.

Nobody saw him.

She made it several meters out of the eastern entrance – successfully evading the posted guardsman – before succumbing to it.

The gnawing hunger chewed its way through her stomach, and up her entire body, shaking her with spasms of pain. She was wise and knowing in the ways of the Art, indeed, but that did not change the fact that she was still just a little girl.

The strength of one's mind can be powerful, but the base needs of the body had a strength of its own.

She needed to eat.

The waiter spun around with a fresh tray of desserts.

It was strange how fast the food seemed to be disappearing. He had only refilled the table's dishes a couple moments ago but now it was all empty again. And so back he went to the kitchen, again and again. He felt like he spent the whole night refilling his tray with more and more helpings of food.

He only remembered walking back and forth, always going back to the same table with a girl in a white dress.

She had beautiful, glowing blue eyes.

After she had eaten her fill and stuffed her satchel full of foodstuffs, the little girl finally released the poor fellow.

He stumbled backwards uncertainly as the tray slipped from his hands and dropped silently onto the grass. She whispered another lullaby to him, calming the man and adding weight to his eyelids. He nestled his head on the grass, falling into a deep slumber.

The girl sighed again and rose to her feet.

As she made the final leg of her escape, the night's events took hold in her mind.

The summoner had managed to perform his fifth and last sacrifice in good order.

Unfortunately it seemed that his actions have attracted the attention of the city's secret services. Still, she had smudged the sigil. It was unlikely for them to deduce the exact nature of the ritual, other than the fact that it was a summoning in nature.

The girl could only hope that he made it out with his life and the dagger.

She needed him to finish the invocation.

And then all this will finally end…

He accomplished nothing.

The thought weighed heavily on his mind as Jim made his way through the winding passage ways of the maze.

The night had started out quite promising.

He knew the location of the killer's fifth – possibly last – victim. He had arrived on site without being detected and reasonably prepared for a fight with the pyrokinetic operative.

Jim had a good shot at catching the little girl.

And now here he was, bruised and wounded with nothing to show for his efforts. Instead of the operative he ended up fighting with a snake and exchanging fire with a tactical team. During both times he barely escaped with his life.

But what pained him the most was the fact that he almost had the girl.

Almost.

But she slipped away from his fingertips.

Both the killer and the girl had managed to evade him. The only thing Jim could hope for now was that they also managed to dodge the snakes and the operative as well. If he couldn't have them then the best case scenario was that no one else did as well.

And now there were no more clues from the warehouse.

The only thing Jim came away with was a brochure and the image of the sigil on the floor of the hut.

That was the only things he had to show for the night's adventure.

At least Jim didn't use his left arm enough to warrant an episode. While the sporadic spasms twisting its way through his arm were painful, it was nothing that he couldn't deal with.

And then there was the burn.

It was really beginning to hurt now. He knew that he needed to change the dressing soon or else the puss of the burnt flesh and melted skin will start to fester. The mongrel cursed himself again for not including any disinfectant in his first aid kit.

Hopefully the wound would not get infected.

As he made his way through the undergrowth a part of him secretly thanked the brutal training from the jackals; it allowed him to recall the general layout of the maze from memory. After some more detours and trial-and-error, Jim finally arrived at the southern entrance of the maze.

Freedom.

Four entrances.

She knew that the maze had four entrances: the northern, eastern, southern and western entrances.

These were the public entrances of the maze. She was certain that there were most likely secret passages as well, from which the tactical team must have infiltrated the maze. Most likely awaiting extraction as well.

But those were secret passages.

The others must have entered the maze from the public entrances.

So she gambled and laid in ambush at one of the four entrances, hoping that one of her targets would appear. And indeed she saw the mongrel materializing from the shadows of the passageways like a silent ghost.

He was not who she was waiting for, but…

He did hear her.

Just not in time.

…he'll do.

Her hand shot out of the hedge's green wall.

Jim immediately reached for his last knife but he never managed to pull it out of its sheath. Her iron grip, firmly locked onto his neck, pulled him backwards. He was dragged into the bushes like rag doll.

The grapple was clean and fast.

He stood no chance.

She went for his left hand first, judging correctly that it was knife arm. She locked his wrist and – like a flash of lightning – twisted it backwards behind his shoulder.

While she was pulling him through the hedge her right foot also went forwards, searching for his feet. The only thing he registered was his right feet being pushed slightly off the ground. For a moment he was floating through the air.

Then the grass came up to smash his face.

Jim hit the dirt face first, with his left arm twisted behind his back and her left boot crushing down on his neck. Half a second later second his right arm met the same fate: the full force of her right knee pinned it down.

She had him.

With his head crushed against the grass Jim tried to turn around to face her. He could only manage a half turn.

He needed to try.

At that very moment a thousand lies, a life time of alibis, a veritable anthology of deceit flashed through his mind.

But all of those falsehoods crumbled into dust the moment he saw the glint in her eyes. Right then and there he realized that it was pointless; it didn't matter what he said or how he said it or how much she listened to his silver tongue.

Her cold, impassive eyes told him everything.

She knew.

She slowly increased the pressure of her hands and he felt the joints of his arm creaking. Then she leaned in closer against his face until the entire weight of her body came pressing down his neck. Jim tried to breathe. He couldn't. His head became lighter and lighter.

Her whisper cut through his ears.

"Where is the killer?"

He was silent.

Her hands tightened around his left arm. By now it was not just the joints, his muscles were also screaming. It felt like the tendons of his shoulder were slowly coming apart at the seams.

She repeated her question.

"Where. Is. The. Killer?"

Silence.

She readjusted her locks on his left arm. He saw that the grip of her hands had shifted to two different locations. One was positioned on his forearm and the other on his upper arm.

They were placed in such a manner that when she started pulling, it would apply force to his arm in two different directions.

Two opposing directions.

"I don't know," he blurted out, desperate to stop –

She heard him.

But she went ahead anyways.

She twisted his elbow.

Jim heard the sickening crack of his elbow being dislocated vibrating through every bone in his body. The awesome pain came swiftly and mercilessly, rippling throughout his left arm. With his face pressed up against the grass he could only bite down on his tongue.

Endure.

"You were saying…?"

"I don't know. He got away. The snakes were there. They were hunting him."

He needed to tell her the information quickly and efficiently before she started doing more.

She took a moment to consider his words.

"Did you see a girl? A girl with white hair?"

It was the moment of truth.

A million thoughts flashed through his mind; they were fancy, elaborate little calculations about who knew what and what information each faction was looking for. Surely, he could sit down with pen and paper. He could plot out all of the possibilities. He could craft the most logical, rational and deniable response.

He could craft a reply that sounded as truthful as possible while giving away as little as possible.

Yes, he could do that.

But none of it mattered to him.

As he was lying there, with his arm twisted behind his back and his elbow dislocated, the only thing that mattered to him was her cold, impassive gaze.

The only thing that mattered to him was how she had looked at him earlier that day, when she was sitting on his desk with a tired, waning smile.

That only thing that mattered to him was the fact that, even at this point…

He didn't want her to know.

He lied.

"I don't know. I didn't see anyone like that."

His shoulder?

No, it wouldn't hurt enough.