Hunted

Fifty-Six: An Ending

Charlotte stepped silently into the cave beneath the Western Cliffs, each foot placed carefully on the slick, wet stones. The tide was out, the water level lower than the first time she had found her way to the secret hollow. The large metal door that had shielded the back of the cave was now cast open, revealing the secrets of the dark cavern.

Across the navy-blue inlet stretched a rusted bridge. It stemmed from beneath the steps that descended the cliff face, spanning the frigid water and reaching into the back recesses of the cave, dripping with sea water, as if it had been submerged beneath the surface of the ocean and only recently brought up. A side bridge, a diversion from the main span, stretched across towards Charlotte stopping at her feet.

Elmhirst had did his best to accommodate a quick exit. Of course, he would never make it so he would have to swim to his escape. Not like James and Charlotte had had to, months before.

She stepped upon the bridge, staring at the gentle ebb and flow of the water below, only vaguely aware of its force. She was walking as if in a daydream, a coldness spreading from within her, settling like solid ice in her stomach, cementing her anger and hatred, her desire to kill. The pain at Iseult's loss was too raw, too agonising to allow her to consider what she was about to do, to invent a plan, to even think about what lay ahead of her. Her entire strength was focused on keeping her heartbreak concealed, drowned out deep inside her, fearing the show of weakness when her strength mattered now more than ever.

"Play the game," she breathed aloud, her murmured whisper lost beneath the wash of the tide below. She needed her confidence now. She needed to be the soldier, the machine; she needed to be the head girl. She exhaled and gritted her teeth, focusing on the game and the game alone.

She followed the bridge deeper into the cave, gripping the gun tightly in her hand. She could hear movement ahead in the shadows, a repetitive thudding, as gentle as the swell of water. An eerie creaking echoed through the cool air, the sound soothing in its repetition.

Flickering lights hung against the cold stone ceiling of the cave, weakly illuminating her path. She took another steadying breath, trying to focus her alteration on finding Elmhirst, but each sound, each unseen movement distracted her, pulling her attention away from her intended target.

At the back of the cave she discovered a secret dock, home to a decent sized sail boat, large enough for at least two people. She circled it cautiously, not sure what to expect from the seemingly harmless vessel. Lights were illuminated below its deck, the wood finish polished and gleaming, perfectly appointed. Its sail was tightly furled for now, but the motor was already running, as if Elmhirst was finishing his preparations for departure. She raised the gun towards the boat as if afraid he would emerge from it unexpectedly.

It was at that moment the stench of fear hit her with a disorientating force. She could sense it behind her, radiating from Elmhirst, sending a shiver of excitement down her spine. Her alteration roared inside her, eager at the prospect of attacking the person she hated most. Its sudden strength and unexpected force made her stumble to the side. In the excitement she nearly lost her footing on the bridge, almost guaranteeing a cool swim in the water below, but instead she grasped the railing of the boat, the gun slipping from her grasp and landing noisily on its deck. She ground her teeth, infuriated by her carelessness, but there was little she could do now. Instead she reigned in her alteration, waiting to unleash it, and turned to meet the headmaster.

"So you're still alive?" he breathed, his words bitter. Charlotte moved around slowly, her expression cold and hard.

"Sorry to disappoint you," she replied.

"Who said I was disappointed? This way I get to kill you myself".

Charlotte smiled gently at him, a pitying smile. "What on earth makes you think that is even possible?" she replied, stepping towards him.