Subterra Heart

Chapter 20: Tess Ritty

She crouched in the shadows, head clasped between her hands. That harsh throbbing behind her eyes hurt. It hurt, hurt, hurt so much that she dug her nails into her scalp, trying desperately to fight pain with more pain.

Stop it! Make it stop!

Fenrir wasn't listening to her mental pleas. The pain kept boiling through her skull. Her nails bit through skin, and warm blood trickled down her fingers. There was a new word filtering up through the back of her mind. A name that flitted in and out of her thoughts.

Tess.

Tess.

She gasped, like a drowning person grappling for air. Her name was Tess. She was a student, not a killer. Since when was she a killer? Her fingers ached for the Anai knife, but she'd thrown it away after... After...

Her name was slipping away, like water over stone. She blinked, shaking. Her bloody fists clutched at the ground now. It was cold, hard, grey, smooth. And empty. Very empty.

After what? She'd tried to kill someone, but that was her duty. Wasn't it? Her duty was to serve, and that meant to kill. Kill for Fenrir, and Heart, and Rourke...

But why had Rourke apologized when he sent her away? She was his servant, and as his servant, she would protect Heart from all threats.

She paused, then shook her head. No, she wasn't Rourke's servant, she was Fenrir's.

She was... She was...

What was her name?

The pain in her skull flared up again, and she gave a guttural yell, slamming her head into the ground. She was a servant! It wasn't her place to question such things! But why, why, why...?

She lay still for a long time.

When her mind had emptied once more, she raised her head and stood. There was a mechanical precision to her motions. It was a grace that her previous life would never have afforded her. She was a servant. Nothing more, nothing less.

There was no need to question her duty. Fenrir would provide her with answers as needed. And she still had a task to do. The Dweller named Bastet must not be allowed to live – nor could her human companion. He was a monster, an uncontrollable variable. He was to be snuffed out, just like the others of his kind that Fenrir had coaxed down here. Pity that Heart Central had not simply wiped out all of the Rocharogosis sufferers as instructed. Those idiots up there would have paid for their disobedience by now if Rourke hadn't held Fenrir back. All in good time though...

She placed her fingers against the ground and sniffed the stale tunnel air, searching for any slight vibrations or remnant scents. Only a trace of human and Dweller-host presence was required for her to track them. Fenrir's network of tunnel-creatures was abuzz in her mind, each on high alert for the marked pair.

There.

She located them in mere moments. Her lips curled back in a grimace-like grin. She had them now. Strange, though. The Dweller-named-Bastet was leading the human directly to Fenrir's throne-room. Perhaps she had a death-wish or was simply bored. A few thousand years of living in a casket could certainly lead to an addle-brained Dweller. Fenrir had seen that happen more than a few times.

Regardless, she would be the one to execute them. Not the other Blessed. This was her first task from Fenrir, and she could not afford to disappoint him. Not again.

She crouched low to the ground and then shot off, like a bullet from a human gun. By Fenrir's calculations, her targets would reach the edge of the throne-room at the same time as she would. They would not be allowed to proceed.

She was fast, powerful. She whipped through the tunnel, braids streaming behind her. Just one more turn, and...

She halted. The human she must kill was less than one-hundred meters in front of her. He was entering the Mirror Walls. Alone. She sensed no sign of the Dweller named Bastet. The damn creature must have disappeared while she was running. That problem would have to wait until later. The human took priority now. He had been allowed surprisingly close to the Throne Room. This would not be an issue so long as he did not carry fire. A Dweller could survive any manner of host-death, save death by fire.

She took one silent step forward, then another. The older, slower Blessed in this part of Fenrir's territory had already dispersed. They would come to her aid if needed, but otherwise, she would be allowed to prove herself to Fenrir on her own.

Another silent step. She placed one foot in front of the other. The human was less than twelve meters away now.

"Dark take you, damn Bastet," she heard him mutter. "What the hell was the point of leading me around if you're just gonna leave me here?"

She watched him pull something small from his pocket, and then heard a snap, snap, snap in the darkness. A little blue flame appeared in his hand.

No, no – that could not be allowed. She lunged at him with a hissing shriek, and he turned, flailing the little flame in shock. It caught on the edge of her kuar-soaked sleeve and immediately began burning the fibers. She tore off the sleeve and threw it to the ground, grabbed his wrist and twisted violently, shoving him against the Mirror wall. There was a pop in his shoulder and a scream. The flame in his hand went out, and he dropped whatever he was holding. It clinked against the ground.

She grabbed his throat and pushed her weight against it. There was an Anai knife hanging from his belt. She yanked it free and shoved it between his ribs. The knife hit metal. Blocked. The human wore ancient Anai mail. She barred her teeth and hissed. The smoldering remains of her sleeve on the floor threw wild blue light against the Mirror Wall. She looked up at the polished wall, but her beautiful reflection did not look back.

Instead, she saw a monster in the firelight.