The Necromanced (Being Edited 7/21/14)

Chapter Thirty-four: End Game

Chapter Thirty-four: End Game

"You think you're something tough don't you?" Jase spat. "Something to be reckoned with," He said turning his head as to get a better look at me.

"You're a puppet. A puppet with little strings." He mocked. "Do you remember what I said the first time we met?"

"You said I wasn't welcome, and that I should leave," I said shrugging. "What of it?" I asked.

"That is true, and I'll stand by it, but that wasn't the first thing." He pried.

"Assuming for a moment that I have a weapon trained on you, wouldn't your time be better spent not irritating me?" I asked snidely.

"When you assume that you assume I'm afraid you'll shoot me," Jase said briskly. "Now what was the first thing I asked you?"

"You asked what I was looking for," I said letting my curiosity to get the better of me.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Did you find it?" Jase asked menacingly. He made his first mistake advancing closer.

I released the arrow, it sank itself loosely into flesh. Jase winced clutching it. His leg oozed blood. Without a second thought I closed the distance between us in three steps before leaning down over him, forcing him down again with my hand.

"As a matter of fact, I think I have." I spat at his feet and stalked out of the range. I didn't get far before guards in uniforms traipsed passed me in a hurry. Ignoring them the best I could I returned to my rooms. The wound would be widely superficial, it had gone in clean enough, the end wasn't barbed, he'd be up and limping within the week.

I had gained control, I had torn down my limits, I was writing my own story now. I slipped through the door, promptly locking it behind me. Only then did I realize I had both the bow and the second arrow in my hands. I put them down promptly on the sofa near my closet. My hands shook.

"So, did you ever find an answer?" The voice spooked me. I drew the bow faster than I had thought to do so.

"I thought you told me to come to you," I said lowering the bow. Thomas was no threat to me. "Who let you in?"

"A maid, shall I write down her name so that the mighty Meriden may take revenge?" Thomas mocked bitterly.

"I'm in a foul mood for games, explain what you mean or get out," I said placing my hand back on the bow.

"Who's blood is that?" He asked standing up.

"You'll be going then?"

"Who's blood is that?" Thomas said.

"Not your concern," I snapped.

"You said you had an answer," Thomas said trying another route.

"You asked why I keep people at bay, why I alienate myself." I took my hand off the bow. "People around me get hurt—people around me get hurt, and sometimes I'm okay with that," I said still reveling in my foul mood. There was a silence that lingered just a little too long between us.

"It doesn't have to be that way you know."

"Maybe not in your fairy-tale life," I snapped. "But in mine, it does."

"You're spinning out of control, you don't know which way is up." Thomas said incredulously. "You're lost, and on top of that, you're too damn proud to admit it." It was the first time I'd ever seen Thomas this angry. He's always been stoic, unfeeling, removed,

"And what if you're right?" I asked biting my lip. This was not a road I wanted to travel, but it was one I was forced down. "What if the people around you died, what if you could touch them and they'd come back?" I asked curling up on the small sofa by the wardrobe. "But say you try--you try as hard as you can, and they decide they want to go. They want to die. They push your hand away and choose death. What then?" I demanded.