Chapter Sixteen

James wasn't far from home when he realised something was wrong.

Screams and crashes and the sound of things breaking was rather usual around the taverns and the less classy areas of Bowerstone, but such racket was completely out of place in the otherwise peaceful district James and his family lived in. He wasn't the only one who was unsettled by it either. As he trotted through the streets towards home he passed countless people standing on their doorsteps and in their gardens, peering around for the source of the disturbance and discussing with their neighbours all the possible causes of such commotion.

James didn't stop to chat though, even when a few of the younger by-standers recognised him and gestured for him to join them. He had his own problems to deal with and he certainly wasn't interested in some brawl, even if such a thing was hugely out of place and therefore automatically fascinating to everyone else.

However, as he approached his own house, a creeping feeling of dread prickled across his skin. The closer he got to home, the more animated people became and as he turned the corner, passing a group of outright panicking people, he realised why.

This commotion most definitely was his problem. Because the source of it was his very own.

He froze on the corner of the street, staring at his house and the dark shapes that rushed about in front of the window. As he watched, a dining chair was launched out of the front window and a group of men who had probably fancied themselves as brave enough to venture closer to the house scattered away from it, yelping.

It was then that James recognised the screaming as his mother.

A sensation like a heavy, hot stone dropping into his belly made him sway, dizzy with fear as he realised his parents were in there with whoever or whatever it was destroying their home. Something akin to bravery made him lurch forward and he dashed across the cobblestone street and into the garden. The front door was hanging off its hinges, but as James leapt up into the doorway, he was accosted by a sight he simpley wasn't capable of comprehending.

The people attacking his parents were not human.

They were barely even people. They had the rudimentary form of people, yes, but they were slender, unnaturally so, and pure black from head to foot. They had no distinguishable features, bar piercing red eyes. Arching black vortexes leapt from the ground around their feet, and it such a tight space, with so many of them, it was next to impossible to see the floor.

James took this in quickly, before retreating. He couldn't fight them. He wasn't Sparrow. Instead, panting with fear, he turned on his heel and rushed towards a group of approaching guards. He wondered why they hadn't been there earlier, but as he approached them, the stench of alcohol hit him and he drew his own conclusions.

"Please, my parents are in there!" he cried, choosing to ignore any inebriation. They were the only hope he had of saving his family. "You have to help them, please!"

"We'll do what we can," the guard captain said, pushing James to the side a little more roughly than he'd probably intended. James stumbled back, then dropped into a crouch in the middle of the street, his hands clenched in front of his chest as he watched the guards charge into the house.

He didn't watched the battle. As soon as blades started flashing, he ducked his head, hiding his face against his knees. This couldn't happen. Not now. He knew what was wrong, he could help now. Maybe. As long as his parents were alright they'd be able to sort everything out.

They just needed to be alright.

The sound of his mother crying suddenly became clearer and louder, and James's head snapped up just in time to see a guard pulling her outside and away from the dangers in the house. James's breath caught before he lunged back to his feet and dashed across the space between them, grabbing his mothers hands and pulling her back, away from the house.

"Edmund!" she wailed, resisting James and attempting to return.

"Mother, please..." James whispered, tugging on her hands harder. The sound of his voice caught her attention, and she snapped back to focus on him, her eyes widening when she realised he wasn't just some concerned or nosey neighbour. She inhaled a shaky gasp, then pulled James to her, clinging to him desperately. James let her for a few moments, before he pulled away, dragging her to a safe distance from the house.

The battle didn't continue much longer after that. The guards slowly began to gain an edge over the shadows. James and Laura huddled together, clutching one another's hands as they waited for a chance to return and discover Edmund's fate. Laura mumbled to herself quietly, "He'll be fine... he'll be fine..." But James didn't believe that. Not if these shadows had been sent by Grim.

Finally the last shadow fell, and the guards began to filter out, helping there injured. One remained inside and James suspected he knew why. However, as he and Laura started forward, she suddenly lurched to a halt with a cry of pain. James skidded to a stop beside her and turned to look at her properly. It was only then that he noticed the blood staining her dress.

"You're hurt," he said, gripping her arms to hold her up. Laura shook her head, trying to push past him, but he held her back. "Mother, you need to see a doctor."

"I'm fine," she hissed, her face twitching with the effort of holding back a grimace. "Let me see my husband."

A guard approached, taking a hold of Laura. "You really do need someone to look at that, ma'am," he said, giving James a meaningful glance. "Come with me," Laura, too small to fight against the guard, was unwillingly ushered away from the house. As he urged her away, the guard nodded at the house, then looked directly at James. You should go in, his expression said.

James did just that. He turned on his heel and dashed up to the house, not bothering to stop in the doorway this time. In his hurry, he almost tripped over the guard that remained in there - and subsequently the close to lifeless body of his father. The guard looked up at him, his expression turning grim at the sight of whatever emotions were tearing across James's face, before he stood up and quietly moved to the doorway to keep anyone else from entering. James didn't pay him any heed. Instead he sank to his knees beside his father, carefully gathering him into his arms.

"Daddy?" he asked, giving Edmund a terrified little shake. "Wake up please..?" He could feel something hot and sticky soaking into his clothes, but he tried not to think about it.

Edmund's eyes fluttered weakly, but it took him a few moments to focus on James and his eyes were already starting to glaze. "I'm sorry," he said, his words slurring. "This was... my fault..."

James couldn't deny thay, as much as he wanted to. He just give a stiff little nod. The movement shook free some tears that had been clinging to his jaw. He hadn't realised he was crying. "I know. I know everything. About Grim and the debt."

"I'm... sorry," Edmund said again, his eyes flickering, threatening to close. "Laura..."

"She's fine." James took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly to try and calm himself. He knew what was happening, and he knew what it would lead to. As he looked down at his dying father, however, his fear overwhelmed his greif. "Father, I don't know what to do."

Edmund managed a small, faint smirk. It was bitter and possibly the least happy expression James at ever laid eyes upon. "Neither did I," Edmund said, breathlessly. There was a kind of wet quality to his voice, and when he coughed blood spattered against James's shirt. "Promise... promise me something..."

"...What?"

Reaching up, Edmund gripped a handful of James's shirt, smearing the blood spatters. With strength he had left, Edmund pulled James closer. "Don't... don't let that... bastard Grim do this... do this to you too." He coughed again and James winced as the blood hit his neck and cheek this time. "Promise."

He nodded jerkily, forcing himself to meet his father's eyes. "I promise, father."

Edmund seemed satisified with this and he smiled, just a little, but didn't speak again before his eyes slid shut. James stared at him, clutching his father's body as the last vestiges of his father's life ebbed away, leaving him with the burden of Grim's ire.

He swore he felt the weight settle on his shoulders. Or maybe that was just the hands of the shadow Grim would send to kill him, just waiting for its orders.

I'm not even going to bother with excuses. We all know I'm flaky now. Just know that I still love this story and if I can get into a regular flow with it, I'll try to finish it if I can.

And thank you to everyone for their continued support and reviews. c: