SHOT IN THE DARK
Chapter Three
Hilda was shining her flashlight in a dusty corner of Forbodium Castle when the shot rang throughout her bones. Beside her Lawson stiffened, while the Commissioner gasped in shock.
"What was that?" he whispered, flicking his flashlight upwards.
"Al," said Hilda softly, frozen in place.
But Lawson sprang instantly into action. "Come on!" he roared, caution to thrown pell-mell to the winds. "We have to find out what's going on. Hilda, take Central Tower, Commissioner, go into the courtyard, I'll take East Tower. Come on, hurry!"
They fled off in different directions, the Commissioner scurrying like a frightened rabbit, and Lawson bounding off like a giant hound on the scent of its prey. Hilda's heart beat in time to the sound of her footsteps racing up the circling stairs, while in her head a silent prayer repeated itself time and time again.
Please be okay. Please be okay.
Makepeace slowly lowered his gun, his faint smile growing wider and crooked at the edges. The young detective lay crumpled face-first on the stone ground, arms flung out grotesquely. The Jigsaw Killer took a step closer, putting away his gun, and admiring the way the blood pooled out beneath the corpse, staining the water with its ghoulish tint.
Perhaps it was an odd taste of his, but Makepeace loved blood; the vibrancy of it, and its tangy copper scent held a beautiful poetry to Makepeace. So despite the rain plastering his fair hair to his temples, and the howling wind that cut through his jacket, he continued to smile.
He inspected the dead man with interest. Young, thin, and gawky, certainly. But there had been a gleam to the boy's yellow eyes that spoke to a spark of genius. Almost a pity, really, to extinguish it… Ah well, he thought, time to give this young detective a final present.
It was as he was reaching into his pocket to grab a slightly damp jigsaw piece that Makepeace heard the heavy footstep behind him. Even before he turned around Makepeace knew that he had been betrayed.
"Are you mad that I shot your protégée?" Makepeace asked softly, hands limp at his side.
"No," the Traitor said curtly. "No, it just means there are fewer loose ends to tidy up."
There was no shock when the bullet slammed into Makepeace's side, only pain, and the delicious sensation of blood blossoming against skin. It is fitting, poetic even, thought Makepeace, that I who have lived by blood shall also die by blood.
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The echoing crack of the second gunshot pierced Hilda's ear just as she frantically dashed out onto the top of Central Tower, her usually immaculate hair now in furious disarray. Paying no heed to the rain that assaulted her, she rushed over to the parapets, just in time to Makepeace staggering backwards on the West Tower, clutching his side as blood trickled out between his fingers.
Oddly, the first thought that ran through her head was that Alfendi must still be alive, and he was pushing Makepeace back. There was a certain relief attached to this thought, but it evaporated immediately as Hilda realized that she had picked the wrong tower.
I have to get over there, she thought desperately, turning back the way she had come. Twice she almost slipped running down those precarious stairs; once, when the sound of another gunshot penetrated even the thick walls, and twice, when she remembered that Alfendi hadn't even said goodbye.
Hilda found the Commissioner at the stairway leading up to the West Tower, hacking down the barred door with an unexpected ferocity. Without saying a word she helped him clear the entrance, pulling aside the last shards of wood. Then they started up the stairs, Hilda leading the way, her face white in the darkness, and Commissioner panting behind. Both had their guns drawn, although both feared that guns were no longer needed.
She burst out onto the rooftop to see Alfendi laying in a swirling pool of blood and water only a few feet away from her. Hilda was faintly aware that the Jigsaw killer was lying dead on the other side of the rooftop, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She ran over to Alfendi's still form, feet splashing in the puddles, and crouched at his side, while Commissioner ran over to the Jigsaw Killer.
He'll catch his death of cold, lying out in the rain like this, thought Hilda inanely, taking his still face in her hands. His skin was still warm to the touch, but his golden eyes were lidded, and his skin deathly pale. With shaking hands she ran a thumb along his cold cheek, and moved his damp hair off his forehead. The fear that had for so long festered within her had finally found a name, but she dared not say that name out loud.
"How is he?" asked Lawson, who had just run out onto the rooftop, and to be greeted by the sight of his colleagues drenched in blood and rain.
"He's—" stammered Hilda, moving her hand over to feel for a pulse. "He's—alive! Al's still alive!"
An odd mix of emotions played out across Lawson's face, with relief winning out in the end. "I'd best call an ambulance, then. Otherwise he won't be alive for long."
A/N: WHOA, aren't you proud of me?! TWO updates in two days. More like a day really. I have never done that before, but I am loving writing this story. I don't know what that says about me as a person, though. Anyway…
BrandishingNo.2Pencils: yeah, I wanted the final confrontation a bit rushed because… I don't know, it just seemed right. Alfendi seems like the type who would love long confrontations, so I wanted him to be surprised when it was cut short. And as for the chapter shortness, I literally noticed that the last chapter was a bit too short right as I was uploading it. So, um, sorry… But oh well, this one is a bit longer, I think. Enjoy!
Glaciealis: Succinct. I like that.
So, conceivably, there could be quite a few more chapters to this, or only about three more. It all depends on reactions given. So read/review/favorite/follow! And thank you!