Chapter 14: A Test of Fate_The Scarlet Jane Files

My outing with Shadow had stirred so many emotions within me.

 Doubt.

 Fear. Self-worth.

 Grief for the past, and uncertainty for the future.

 It’s hard to determine what is affecting me the most after the Wiper drops me off at my room. Though I’d longed for my life to be normal, if only for a moment, the aftermath of our outing leaves me reeling with questions.

 Is this really what I want? I ask myself. To be a Hunter? To discover the world? To know each and every dirty little secret it holds?

 I sigh as I pull my hair free of my ponytail and approach the bathroom mirror in question.

 While staring at my reflection—taking in everything from my worn gaze and frowning mouth—I wonder what would happen if, after avenging my mother’s death, I decided to return to the world as it once was.

 Would I still be me, I wonder, after I’m wiped? Or would I be something else?

 The idea that I could return to some sense of normalcy—that I could be placed in a home, with my family, or in a shelter, and could grow up, get a job, someday get married, possibly have children—is haunting, in that it completely discounts my past, in that is completely diminishes the brutal horror that I had endured, the slaughter that had happened.

 Could I really, in the end, give up everything I have worked toward to live a normal life?

 No, I think, tightening my hands around the granite counter top before me. I couldn’t. I can’t.

 The more I think about it—and the more I honestly, truly consider it—I do not want a life of anonymity, of ignorance, or even naivety. I want my old life back. My old friends. My old school.

 My mother.

 I struggle to maintain my composure—try to keep the tears from flowing.

 You can’t cry, I tell myself. You told yourself you would be strong.

 But who can be strong when their whole world has fallen apart?

 The tears come regardless; and as they fall into the sink and down the drain, into the bowels of the Agency’s plumbing system, I imagine that they are heading into the dark depths of the underworld, where nothing but death and decay awaits them.

 A small sob escapes me—

 And the floodwaters come rushing out.

 I stand here, before the bathroom mirror, within which I can see my every flaw, every vulnerability, for several minutes, allowing my body and mind and soul to react to the trauma of the past two weeks. I wrap my arms around myself. I lean back against the wall. I bow my head, and slowly but surely sink down to the floor, whereupon the cold hard tile I sob uncontrollably.

 This can’t be my life, I tell myself. This can’t be the future that was meant for me.

 But, deep down, I know that it is.

 Fate is an ugly creature. It holds no compassion, no mercy, no kindness. It often judges indiscriminately, so when people live, or people die, there really in no pattern to it. In its wicked hand it can either lift people up so they can prosper.

 Or tear them down, I think, so they can perish.

 I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. Expel it not long after.

 I realize, not long after, that Emily Bane will be expecting me first thing in the morning.

 With that in mind, I rise, palm for the light switch with a careful hand, and wait until the bulb above goes dark before making my way into the bedroom.

 I fall into bed in the clothes I’ve worn all day. Then I close my eyes and pray I won’t be tormented by nightmares.

 * * *

 I am up at seven the following morning. Showered, changed, and ready to face the day, I consider my reflection in the mirror and try my hardest to inspire newfound confidence within myself.

 Today will be good, I think. It’ll be better than good.

 “It’ll be great,” I tell myself.

 After checking to ensure that I have my keycard in my pocket, I make my way out of the bedroom and toward the elevator that will take me to the training chamber.

 Almost five minutes later, I step into the brightly lit space to find Emily twirling a bo staff in her hand as if it is nothing more than a pencil.

 “Scarlet,” the woman says. “Good morning.”

 “Good morning,” I reply, my throat tightening as I consider the staves.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

 “Are you ready to start?”

 With a hesitant nod, I approach the wall and select a staff of my own, then step into the center practice ring.

 “You seem nervous,” Emily says.

 “You broke my fingers the last time we did this.”

 “I’m only going to be harder on you this time around. You know that, right?”

 Do I ever, I think but force myself to nod in response.

 I prepare myself as I always do during our practice sessions: by stretching my limbs, acquainting myself with the weapon, then by circling Emily like the woman is apt to do to me. It is at this time, which I know is crucial during the first few moments of battle, that I size the woman up, attempting to determine her potential faults, her obvious strengths. Given that the serum runs through her, it seems that Emily is an impossible foe to beat.

 But you’re growing stronger, I think. You have to believe in yourself.

 With a nod, I wait for Emily to strike.

 The woman feigns an attack.

 I do the same.

 Emily smacks my staff up.

 I bring it around in a swift arc that strikes Emily and causes her to stumble.

 “I’m not going to be easy on you either,” I say.

 “Good.” Emily growls. “Then let’s begin.”

 The woman lets out a battle cry and lunges.

 I swing my staff toward her ankles.

 Emily blocks the strike and counterattacks.

 The blow nearly glances with my head.

 Shit, I think. She could’ve taken off my head.

 I block an overhead strike and counter with one of my own, guiding the staff through the air and driving the woman out of the practice sphere. The act is enough to give me pause, because this is the first time I’ve ever broken the so-called ring of battle. Regardless, Emily continues to circle me; and I, with bravado I feel is born out of cockiness than anything, throw several blows at Emily until the staff strikes her.

 The woman grunts.

 I grab her hair.

 I push the woman against the wall and slam her body against it.

 “Bitch,” Emily says with a laugh. “You think you’re tough shit.”

 “I’m tougher than I look,” I say, driving my knee into Emily’s stomach.

 Emily grunts and falls to her knees—

 Only to grab my Achilles tendon and squeeze.

 I cry out.

 Emily tugs.

 I sail onto my back and nearly have the wind knocked out of me.

 But I breathe, kick away from Emily’s grasp, and jump to my feet, all the while spinning the staff and slamming it into Emily’s side.

 The woman grunts. Is about to lift her staff to counter—

 When I bring the weapon down on her head.

 The blow fells Emily instantly. The woman drops to the ground in silence.

 Breathless, chest heaving, and blood burning with adrenaline, I approach Emily carefully, both surprised and not that she is still conscious, and kick the bo staff out of her hands. I then take my own and lower it to Emily’s neck. “Dead,” I say.

 Eyelids fluttering, mouth agape, Emily opens her eyes to look up at me and offers a smile through the blood running down her nose and into her mouth.

 A second later, a chorus of applause sounds from somewhere in the room.

 “Congratulations,” a voice says.

 Startled, I lift my head.

 I see, in the entryway, an old man with a long salt-and-pepper beard. Around him are several other individuals, all of whom are garbed in black robes that cover them from head to toe.

 “Who are you?” I ask, careful to guide my staff away from Emily’s neck.

 “My name is Victor Delacroix,” the man replies, removing his hood to reveal stark blue eyes. “I am the acting leader of the Guild of Hunters.”

 I pale.

 No, I think.

 It couldn’t be. Where would he and all these other people have stood? How could they have watched the whole fight? And above all: how would I not have noticed them?

 Emily groans from the ground as she struggles to right herself.

 “Shit,” I say and drop my staff. “Emily.”

 “I’m fine,” the woman says but accepts the hand I extend to help her. “Thank you, Scarlet. Or should I say: screw you, Scarlet?”

 I laugh but am immediately sobered by the realization that the man named Victor Delacroix and his companions are still watching me. It is almost impossible not to feel small beneath his gaze.

 “I see Miss Bane has taught you violence is the answer when it comes to dueling,” he says before reaching forward to shake my hand. “I’ve been watching you, Scarlet Jane.”

 “How?” I ask.

 Delacroix turns and points toward a single eye above the entryway. “Our cameras allowed us to watch the entire proceeding.”

 “But how—”

 “Did we arrive unnoticed?” the man interrupts. His smile is enough to inspire both confidence and dread. “We merely stepped out from our observation deck here”—he gestures to a door at the far side of the room—“and continued to watch the battle as it played out. After Miss Bane’s previous progress report, we were interested in seeing how you would fare during your last battle.”

 “My last battle?” I ask. “What… what are you—”

 “You have successfully defeated a senior officer of the Guild,” Victor Delacroix replies. “As per our traditions, this officially deems you worthy of entering the Guild of Hunters.”

 “Does that mean—” I start.

 “That you will receive the Trinity Serum?” the man replies. “Yes, Scarlet. It means exactly that.”

 I cannot stop the feelings of relief, fear, and worst of all guilt from following.

 After all this time—after all this work, all this blood, this sweat, and these tears—I could finally do what I had set out to do. I can kill the monster that killed my mother.

 I cannot prevent the tears that follow.

 “Congratulations, Scarlet Jane,” Victor Delacroix says. “Not many trainees make it as far as you have, nor so quickly. Miss Bane is known for her ferocity.”

 “She’s a fighter,” Emily says. “I’ll give her that.”

 “I’m sorry I hurt you,” I reply. “I… I don’t know what came over me.”

 “Don’t be sorry,” the woman replies. “That warrior spirit will keep you alive in the field.”

 I turn my head to offer the salt-and-pepper-haired Victor Delacroix my full attention. “What do I have to do?”

 “We figured today might be the day,” the man said, turning and gesturing me toward the Viewing Chambers. “A doctor is standing by to administer the serum. Please, follow me.”

 “What about Emily?” I ask.

 “I’ll be fine,” Emily says, pressing a hand against my shoulder and nudging me in the right direction. “Go, Scarlet, and do what you’ve been working so hard to do.”

 With that said, I turn and follow the leader of the Guild of Hunters—heart pumping, mind racing, blood hot in my veins.

 This is it, I tell myself. This is finally it.

 After all the hard work I’ve done, I am finally about to enter the fold.

 What awaits me I cannot possibly know. Regardless, I tell myself that what comes next is for one person, and one person only:

 My mother.

AliNovel

Chapter 14: A Test of Fate