Darkness Girl: Trickster God

Chapter Sixty-One: Choke Point

Bennet stood with her mouth open, as if the sudden brutality of the assault had shocked her into paralysis. Westlake's knife cut the air as she slashed at Bennet, but as Latimer's corpse hit the ground, Regan saw her tense like a startled deer. Bennet skipped back from Westlake's attack as the knife whipped past her face. There was a sound of tearing fabric, as the tip of Westlake's knife caught her left arm, and she yelled in pain as the knife dragged a thick red gash down her forearm. Drops of blood splashed onto the dusty concrete roof as Bennet stumbled backwards clutching her arm. 

Westlake didn't move to follow her. There was something grey and dead in her eyes. 

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'There weren't supposed to be other people. Latimer was supposed to come alone.' 

Regan watched Westlake step forward with an unsteady gait. Her shoulders were loose, like her arms were attached to her body with string. She didn't seem to be talking to any one of them; instead it was as if she was speaking to the empty air. 

Bennet's face was a sickly white in the moonlight, but her expression was furious. There was a lattice of blood running across the pale skin of her hand that dripped down onto the ground beneath. 'What about the others?' 

Westlake looked at her with her mouth slightly open, like a dog trying to find the source of a strange noise. 

'Where are my transporters, you two-faced filth?' 

'Your Silverwater colleagues are already dead.' 

Bennet gripped her arm and drew in a shuddering breath. Regan saw the blood seeping between her fingers as she drove them into the wound. She let out a scream that tore through the night air. 

'Don't mourn for them,' said Westlake. 'None of you can leave here alive. Seline was very clear on that.' 

Regan rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. 'I'd hoped for something better -- something personal. Are you just another hired sword for Unity then?' 

Westlake shook her head like someone trying to wake themselves from a nightmare. 'It's not like that. None of you could understand. Seline's eyes are everywhere. Latimer would have climbed a mountain of corpses to reach her, but he was never going to get there. He didn't have a family, or people he cared about. He didn't even understand what it was like to have them. He would have sacrificed anything, even the things he had no right to give.' 

Regan drew her sword. 'I'm not interested in the justifications for your cowardice.' 

The scrape of Regan's blade leaving the scabbard seemed to send a small shudder through Westlake's body. The muscles in her shoulders tensed, and her grip on the knife tightened. 'I need to live. That's what Latimer didn't understand.' 

'The strange thing is, if you'd shown more courage, perhaps you might have survived the night.' 

Westlake shook her head. 'You don't know Seline. There was never a chance for you to survive. Even if you kill me, my team will hunt you down like rats in a maze, and if you escape them, something even worse is waiting.' 

'I guess we'll just have to take what solace we can from your death,' said Trevellian. 

Regan walked towards Westlake slowly, holding her sword low. 'Your eagerness to accept your weakness makes you lower than scum. People like you should just die.' 

Westlake looked at the sword in Regan's hand like it was a live snake, and an expression of animal desperation crossed her face. 'None of you understand.' 

Westlake stepped back and her free hand dipped into her pocket. There was a flash of metal that stuck sparks from Regan's sword. Regan didn't break her stride. 

'I hope throwing knives aren't the best trick you have,' said Trevellian. 

Westlake looked at Trevellian then at Regan. She changed her grip on her knife and suddenly launched herself forward. Regan's expression was calm. She moved at the same time, with light steps that barely made a sound on the concrete. 

Westlake planted her feet and drove her body weight behind her knife, in a move designed to catch Regan in the chest. Regan's movements were smooth as she flowed around the blade. Westlake turned to follow her, but it was too late. There was a sound like a picket being driven into the ground, and Westlake's neck folded sideways as Regan's sword stabbed through the side of her neck. Westlake's body stiffened and her mouth opened and closed. 

Westlake gave a choking cough, as a gout of blood spilled from her mouth. When she spoke, her voice sounded like a sigh. 'It doesn't matter. You're all dead.' 

There was a crunch as Regan twisted the blade, and Westlake's eyes went blank, as if she'd suddenly been frozen in time. The knife slipped out of her grip and hit the concrete as her fingers lost their strength. 

Regan withdrew the blade with a sharp tug and pushed Westlake's body away. A gout of blood pulsed from the wound in its neck as it hit the ground. 

As soon as Westlake fell, Sarafina ran to Latimer's crumpled body with a stricken look on her face. She rolled him onto his back, and pressed her fingers into his neck, feeling for a pulse. 

'Don't bother,' said Regan. 'He's dead.' 

Regan crouched by Westlake and wiped her blade on the corpse's clothes. 

'Why would she suddenly turn on him like that?,' said Forester. 'I thought she and Latimer were friends.' 

Trevellian rolled his wheelchair across to Regan and looked down at Westlake's corpse. 'They were old friends, but everyone has weaknesses that can be exploited.' 

Regan finished cleaning her blade. She began to stand up, when she heard a sound and paused. She cocked her head to the side and listened. A few seconds later the sound came again. It was two soft chirps in quick succession. She looked at Trevellian. His brow was furrowed. 

What's that sound?' said Forester. 

'It's coming from her,' said Trevellian, pointing to the corpse. 

Regan searched through Westlake's pockets and found a black two-way radio with a stub antenna. As she was examining it, the radio chirped cheerfully and a yellow LED next to the antenna flashed on and off. 

'We use those at Silverwater to coordinate squad movements,' said Forester. 'They don't have a huge range, but they're tough.' 

'It's probably Westlake's assault team checking in,' said Trevellian. 'Let them keep guessing.' 

Regan looked at him and very deliberately held down a button on the side of the radio. It started to emit a hashing static sound. 

Trevellian sighed. 

The radio beeped. 'Westlake,' said a female voice. 'Tell me it's done.' 

Trevellian's face went pale as Regan's grip on the radio tightened. Her fingers started to go white. 

'What's wrong?' said Forester. 

'I know that voice.' 

The radio beeped again. 'Should I take your silence as failure?'

'Regan,' said Trevellian. 'Give me the radio.' 

Regan looked at the radio in her hand as if it was an alien device. She slowly lifted it to her lips and pushed the talk button. 

'I've sent Westlake through the gates of hell. Prepare to follow her, Kessler.'