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Thirty-Three: Grim Fulfilment

Sobs and screams break out upon the kittens having just seen their idol die as the sky darkens. The sight paralyses even me to my very core. The kittens can plead, "Get up, High Priestess!", "Live, High Priestess", and "Fight the white monster!" all they want. They can also proclaim, "I'll kill you!", "Let me go!", and "Fight me!" all they want. Nothing will make a corpse with its penetrated brain exposed stand up. Tears blind me, distorting the view of the cat and the dirt. Though sadness threatens to overtake my mind, the rage reminds me of what I felt seventeen years ago, as well. I look up at the hybrid wolf with a tear-filled scowl. Jack's bombs are of no use, not when innocents are used as barriers.

Giffard nears me, looking down at me, just like a noble to a peasant. He points his pistol at me and says bluntly, "Doff yer blazer." Though it takes me a second, I comprehend why. He keeps his distance. What a smart man. I shrug my blazer down, one shoulder at a time. I get my left arm out of the left sleeve first and leave the jacket hanging on one side. I then slip my right arm out of the sleeve. With my right hand, I toss the blazer aside. We exchange another stare. Giffard then speaks, "Allow me to demonstrate whot happens to those who interfere in the Lowell House's business. Watch closely as I display whot happens to those you falsely believe are gods. The cat that you revere is self-deluded into thinking that she is like a figure from her culture's folklore. The she-wolf here, who worships her like you do, is equally deluded for such. The cat's demise is mere mercy compared to torment. You are oll fools in choosing yer heroes, and you will learn the reason."

He pushes the hammer of his pistol and holsters it. He then draws a dagger with an etched brass hilt. The night has fallen now. The sun has set on the High Priestess. Her image has sunken into my mind for me to see her with or without my night vision. He barks, "Look at me, false goddess!" I give him no satisfaction. I can hear him growl, no matter how low it is. He addresses his mercs, saying, "If she resists, kill them." Then, I hear him approach me. One kitten yowls, "Don' touch 'er!" He grunts at his taker's grip tightening. However, that does not deter him. "I'll break yer arm! I swear it! I'll use that knife on you!" Then, he is silenced. I anticipate Giffard's first blow to me.

To my astonishment, Giffard grabs me by my crown and holds my head up, making me look at the horrified kittens handled by grown dogs, each one with a gun pointed at their heads. I show only a scowl as the hybrid says, "Everybody has a weakness. Thank you for showing me yours."

I mutter, "I will die before I kiss yer bloody arse." What reason have I to kill Giffard?

He rebuts, "You olready did the latter." He adds, addressing the kittens again, "Watch yer goddess foll from grace." He begins the torture by kicking me in the back. I stumble forward, but instinctively break my fall with my hands. I lift myself back to my knees--

Only for Giffard to kick me again. I fall forward again and fail to break the fall this time. If he wants to test my endurance, I will allow him. I act like the blow has rendered me unconscious, as much as the kittens beg for me to get back up. After a few seconds, Giffard picks me up by my vest. He then hits the hilt of his dagger against the side of my face. I only scowl.

I inquire, "Pardon my curiosity, Giffard: is Rodica there?" Words are all I have. He punches my shoulder. He is holding back on both killing me and spilling my blood. Retaining my position, I continue, "Lady Campana, do you want yer son ta kill me, or do you wan' t-see me suffer?" Giffard then kicks my side, tilting me. My knees are already irritated from staying pressed against the dirt. Giffard kicks me again. This time, I fall on my side, but I use my left arm for support. I state, "Your face may cause chills to those who look at you, but it is merely a mask." He kicks my back again, making me lose my grip. Knowing that I would play a ruse, he kicks the same spot, and I roll. I groan, "You may 'ave fought slaves, but they were weaker than you." He kicks my midsection. Even now, I refuse to look at him. I rasp, "You dreaded yer slaves, and made them fear you more than their captors. You know what would happen when you kept them down fer so long." He yanks me by my shirt with his left hand and holds me in front of him. I only look to the side, reminding myself of the place I lost my family. He presses the tip of his dagger to my face and growls, "Look at me." I comply, looking into his eyes.

I say coldly, "Deny no fears, Giffard. You rely on other people's muscles and incriminating content to get whot you want. Even slaves will build up resentment toward their gaolers. The one who discovered yer journal oll those years ago wos right to lose himself in the dungeon below Crowsridge Cathedral, but nobody would fear a man controlled and haunted by his mother's spectre."

That is when he slides the dagger against my neck. I feel only a sting. He penetrated the skin, but caused no damage to an artery or my windpipe. He then tosses me. I barely break my fall. Giffard barks, "Not another word! No more cheekiness, Munter! Lest y-want the kitten's deaths on your conscience!" He picks me up by my shirt again, and then turns me around. He seemingly toys with me, the dagger's tine stroking my vest. I clench my teeth in anticipation.

Giffard then drives the blade into my flesh, below my shoulder blade. I suppress a yelp, but I still let out a groan. This causes Giffard to growl. He stabs my shoulder again, this time just below my clavicle. I groan again, but Cor, this is excruciating. He then punches where he has just cut. I bend with a raspy groan. That must have satisfied the bastard. The cries from the kittens, sound muffled for a moment. He seems to caress me again, wondering where to stab me next without killing me.

To my astonishment, he grimaces and seethes. Rodica's spectre must be barking a command. Giffard, what does she want you to do? What words of hers disturb you? Why are you hesitant now to weaken me further? The hybrid wolf kicks the back of my leg, and I drop to my knees. I anticipate another blow--

But he pauses. I deduce another grimace without looking at him. Instead of him, I look up at his mercenaries holding the kittens. They look at each other, confused. You want to make me suffer, Giffard; you still have a chance before your mercenaries question their loyalty.

As if he heard that, he jabs the back of my neck. And yet, he refuses to kill me. What honour is there in torturing somebody if you intend to kill them anyway? Why must we cause such terrible anguish before slaying our enemies? Your leverage against me so that you can mar me makes you no less of a coward than I already find you. As if he considers his next move, the point of the blade brushes against my vest, only to move straight across, to my sleeve. He presses his dagger until he knows that he has reached my flesh. Then, he jerks it downward. Only the fabric tears. Giffard knows that it causes no pain. So, he shimmies through the slit. Then, with another jerking motion, he stings my upper arm. That would only be an intelligent decision when your adversary is right-handed, berk!

Yet again, he seethes, but I deduce from the shadow cast by the few lit gas lamps that he bends aside, about to cover one ear. Your costume has been deteriorating, Giffard. How long will you take now to show your actual form to your men? With the knife's hilt, he punches the slit on my arm, somehow not stinging as much as when the skin broke. He growls from not hearing me react. That is just it: he wants me to become weak. So, Giffard presses the dagger to the left side of my back. He swipes, only to growl at not going as far as he hoped. He stabs in the same spot below my right clavicle. This time, he twists the blade, making me hiss at the pain. While keeping the blade in the opening, he knees my back. He turns the dagger again, and I let out a grating bellow. He then pulls the knife out. He kicks me with his shoe in my lower back. This time, I fall on my left and extend my legs.

The kittens beg, voices overlapping, "No! Big Sister! Get up! Fight the monster!" Those are the only phrases that I make out, their captors unable to cover their mouths. The one kitten that I see as I lay on my side on the dirt, her captor sticks the barrel of his pistol in her mouth, and she starts crying. Is this the last thing that I will see? The symbol of my failure? The sign that Giffard--no, Nadine--has won?

I mutter, "Be done with it, then."

Somebody has other plans, for I am pulled from the edge of the abyss by dreaded thundering that only rifles make. My eyes widen at the four hostage takers' heads exploding and their bodies stumbling aside. Then, an explosion, followed by thumps of dirt, carries beyond my position. Next, I hear the crackling of electricity, which leads to another explosion scattering the soil and stones. The rest of Giffard's men turn around and run to the squad behind them, aiming their guns. A few of them stumble as they go, blood splatting on their jackets.

The kittens shuffle in confusion. Ghaliya! I have a chance now. With newfound energy, I ball myself and then roll away from Giffard. I leap to my right as I face him. I lunge backwards, gathering a handful of dirt. He fumbles with his pistol in his holster as I run toward him again. I throw the soil at him and successfully disorient him as the banging and ringing of rifles and pistols carry through the community.

I lunge to where I have tossed my jacket. I pick it up and place it over my shoulders. I sweep Giffard's leg so that I can get my arms through the sleeves. I slide my Khopesh out of his reach before he can pick it up himself. However, I find it nothing without the other. That is why I draw my Katana from over my shoulder. I can only handle one weapon thanks to Giffard, but it still feels dishonourable as he might have no experience.

I inquire, "How well, fought you against the slaves that Rodica forced you t-kill?"

He answers with only a growl, lunging toward me with his dagger. I counter effortlessly, driving the Katana into his shoulder. I quickly pull away before he retaliates with a swipe.

I comment, "Impressive armour. But useless without a chest guard." He growls again, his paces matching. He draws his pistol, only for me to lunge out of his aim. I charge with my good shoulder, and then sweep his leg again. I howl to the men fighting Giffard's men, "Protect the kittens! Protect the kittens!" I see, for a fraction of a second, the handsome Arctic Fox leading three well-dressed men.

However, my focus must be on Giffard, who stabs my leg, though barely. I swing my Katana, forcing his pistol to face away from me. I kick him with my left boot. I bring my Katana down like a guillotine, but Giffard rolls aside, not that I expected him to go down quickly. He then scrambles to get up.

With Jack in my sight behind Giffard, I want to call another order to him, but he would not understand. Instead, I keep my attention on the hybrid wolf. I duck just when he raises his pistol. I have my Katana collide with his knife and wrest it aside before I charge him again.

I kick Giffard's shin and then drive my Katana back, rotate the blade, and then thrust it into his left leg. I show that it was a feint by slashing him in my withdraw. The leg of his pants gets torn, and I leave a slit. That stuns him. He backs up, attempting to raise his pistol yet again.

This time, the blade's side flat against his arm, I force it upwards. I turn the sword again, this time withdrawing swiftly. I penetrate his blazer and shirt, and leave another slit. He attempts to stab my midsection, only for his dagger to clash with my Katana. I knee his groin. He bents forward, rasping. I jab the sword's hilt into his diaphragm.

Before it can reach the ground, I catch his pistol. He backs up, making himself look brazen as he points his knife. Even now, he grimaces, hearing Rodica screech orders at him. With each step that he takes, I take one as well. Enough of your craven, Giffard. Without thinking, he turns around, and shoves one of his mercs my way. Now, I have to growl at that action. I deflect the Doberman's sabre and cane, putting all strength in only my left arm. I scrape against the blade and staff--

But he stumbles forward, and it turns out that he got stabbed in the back... by Vadimir! The sight of the red-eyed black wolf stuns me with his sudden appearance. He deflects another sword of a Greyhound, prompting me to re-raise my defences. Then, I hear the familiar caw, closing in on me. That reminds me that I need to catch up with the hybrid.

Instead of dropping Giffard's pistol, I keep it with me. Michi flies at my pace. I run right in the middle of the all-out brawl between Jack's faction and Giffard's squadron and pass the pairs engaged in mortal combat. Clangs and thunders echo in the district, with the residents watching nervously. Before one of Giffard's men could shoot me--I know he's Giffard's because of the split-second he points his gun at me after executing his opponent--I effortlessly slash his arm and then stab him in the side, between his ribs. Sorry, Jack, but you gave me a chance. I am taking it.

I can make out the white head atop the black jacket in the dimly-lit streets. I still run, trying to hold my Katana and Giffard's gun in one, to produce one of Jack's bombs. Which kind it is, I have no time to determine. I press the button and hurl it when I am just a few metres away from the hybrid. To answer my question of which kind the bomb is, a pale-blue glow adds to what little light there is, and electricity crackles. It does not kill him, not that I expect it to.

He instinctively turns around, his yellow eye and blue eye piercing in the blackness. Now near him, I snarl, "Fight me, bastard!"

As if that one word provokes him, he lunges toward me, swinging an intricate cane. I block it effortlessly, as I then do when he thrusts the dagger toward me. I counterattack with a slash that tears his blazer's lapels. Angrier, he swings the cane from high above, which I parry with a twirl causing him to withdraw before he strikes with his knife. He seems to think a litter straighter, attempting to jab the end of the staff to my leg, which I dodge, I block as simply when he swings sideways. I swing upwards, predicting correctly that he attempts to swipe downwards. I jab his midsection with the hilt of my Katana again. I thrust downward, to his leg, but he parries this time, and then thrusts his dagger to my chest. I need only turn to dodge, which I do. I punch his upper right arm with the hilt, but it does not touch where I broke the skin earlier.

I lunge past him, slashing his side. I penetrate the blazer and shirt, and break the skin again. The damage is enough for him to bend forward with a groan. That quickly turns into a growl when he turns around to meet me again. He steps toward me as I hold my Katana high, the blade pointing away. As a feint, I bring the blade down in an arc, and he quickly withdraws. I then lunge, thrusting my sword. He instinctively backs up. He then sweeps my leg, making me lose my balance, but I plunge my Katana into the ground to avoid falling. Our scowls collide like fires trying to overpower each other. In that fraction of a second, I stand straight and hold my Katana high again, this time the blade sideways. I leap aside and swipe in a downward angle, just barely cutting his cane's strike short and leaving a slit below his shirt's collar. I turn the blade vertical and cut further as I scrape with the staff. He stumbles, but still sees his pride wounded. Giffard swings the cane and then the knife, his attacks now reckless. He foolishly thinks that he can take me with two weapons to my one. He also seems to not question that I am not using his own gun against him. Giffard thrusts his dagger repeatedly, followed by his sloppy veers of the cane. I realise that I must put an end to this fight before I lose too much blood. I feel a little lighter. With a fumble of the Katana without him touching me, he bludgeons my left shoulder. I back up again, making my grip on the hilt tight. This is it, Giffard. I parry his cane, and then his dagger. I turn to get side-to-side. I punch the slit in his arm, and then the slit in the side of his abdomen. He stumbles, dropping his cane. I slash his leg, making him fall forward. I step to meet him face-to-face, kicking each weapon aside as I do so. I sheathe the Katana, and then move Giffard's pistol to my left hand. With a quick look, I know that the safety is off. There is no chance that it jammed during our fight. I align myself with Giffard, who pants, staying on his hands and knees. I look into his yellow eye and blue eye. A moment of silence.

I point his own gun at him. I speak, "Where- is- Nadine?"

He scoffs, "Even if I tell you, she will be away before you reach her." He continues groggily, "You are correct: she has that woman's daughter."

I bark, "Where intends she to go?"

"Hell if I know, but I would still not tell you. I only know that Nadine is taking what money she can still scrounge up and leaving Highcond for good. You will never find her, Vivian."

I kick his nose. His face falls to the ground. "That is not my name anymore, bastard."

He rasps, "It is who you are: a cub holding a grudge against someone."

I orate, "I olways thought that you were nobody. I thought that you were only a murderer. I knew of murder even before then. I saw rit happen. Rodica cursed my family with a debt of more than they owed. The curse breaks tonight." I pause, pointing the gun at the hybrid wolf's forehead. "Thank you, Giffard." Michibiku alights atop the nearest lamp post, which has not yet been lit.

He slightly rises, asking, "Why thank me, Vivian?"

"You made me who I am. You find me only a resentful cub? You were a young man petty about somebody stealing your puppet-to-be. Out of pure envy, you struck down the first two people who loved me. Your mother thought that she could take everything from Malentha, but she wos wrong. You thought that you could take everything from me, but you were wrong, as well. I judged that I could take you alone, for I considered it a burden that I must bear myself. I realised that I could never have gone far without the Foundation of Mau-Re, let alone my friendship with Jack.

"Unlike you, Giffard, I know love and friendship. My first motivation wos revenge, but I realised that there wos more than revenge to consider. Your parents formed the most notorious crime clan, and bore you and Nadine to hold their empire above those of other aristos. Neither of you thought fer yerselves. Oll that they saw were an heir and heiress. I inherited Malenther and Clement's opposition to criminals such as yourself."

Giffard attempts to jump me, but I step back and kick him. I stamp his hand when he falls back down. He yowls gravelly. The hybrid then spits, "And I still see a commoner fighting the war with us nobles. Furthermore, even if you kill me, there will be other houses to beget a crime reign." He seethes, "You will never win, Vivian."

I furrow my brows and tighten my grip on the pistol. I hold my arm straight out, finger on the trigger. I speak, "You killed Vivian seventeen years ago, along with her mother and step-father. That she-wolf was revived with Death's blood. In return, she became his disciple. My name is Almat. And this is my kiss." I pull the trigger--

And bang! I flex my forefinger repeatedly, firing bullet after bullet, causing echoing thunder after thunder. Then comes the lightning in the sky. After the ninth boom from the infernal apparatus, I pull the trigger, only to hear a click. Click. Click. Then, I lower my arm, my eyes welling up. I promised myself that I would not cry. I look straight up, tears falling down. Then, the rain begins. Mother... Father... I have honoured your will...