The Sharded Blade | Part 1 (A Dark Fantasy Novella)

Part 5

Gertrude wouldn't let me sleep that night. Apparently, she was still upset over me leaving the woman to wallow in misery until someone else found her. And someone would. Eventually. So what was the big deal?

For some reason, the demonic beast had more of a soul than I did. But you know what? At this point, such things didn't bother me in the slightest. Not as much as my growing lack of sleep did.

Again, if I'd have gotten some sort of credit for good deeds? I'd have jumped at the opportunity to help her out. So I blamed the wizard and the specifics of his curse for my decision to not act.

Gertrude was even less amused by my selfish justifications. While the rat hissed and squeaked and growled, I just laid there, listening to her and letting her vent.

What I said was true though. Freeing his victim wasn't part of the deal. And I wasn't about to do anything I wasn't required to do. Consider that my payback, if you will, for the curse placed upon me.

Yeah, I admit it. I'm the obstinate type. A real ass sometimes. Just ask my ex-wife.

But, regardless of what she might choose to tell you, I always treated her right. Both her and my daughter. Until I came home one day from a mission to find them both up and gone. Without a word or a trace.

At first, I feared someone had determined my identity, an identity I had taken great pains to conceal, and abducted them. You know, maybe as payback for something I'd done at some point during my long and nefarious career. But, after an exhaustive hunt, and receiving no ransom note or a formal message that my family's disappearance was a warning for me to cease and desist my activities, I ruled out that possibility.

Apparently, my wife just decided to leave.

I'd gotten over her not wanting to be part of my life anymore. But what really stung me was my wife had taken our five-year-old little girl with her when she hightailed it out of town. That was ten, no, wait... eleven years ago. Damn, how time flies.

I popped open a bronze locket kept with precious greed on my person at all times. Inside, pinned under four prongs, a small piece of red fabric from one of my baby girl's favorite dresses stared back at me. She'd torn it while playing outside one day and cried, and cried, and cried. And do you know why she cried? She cried because she knew it was daddy's favorite, and she loved her daddy. Regardless of him being a murderous scumbag, but she knew nothing about my darker side.

So you know what I did? I ripped a piece off of my best, blackest cloak and bought this little trinket and another just like it. And in them, we each put the cloth from the other's clothes. A real bonding moment for us, if you asked me. Now, it was all I had to remember her by, and I was thankful we'd done it.

"Why don't you find me another innocent to avenge?" I goaded the rat, seeking a distraction from my wandering thoughts. Snapping the locket shut again, I'd grown tired of the demon's protests.

Seemed like Gertrude took pleasure in making sure I suffered longer than necessary between kills. It was maybe once a month or so that the cursed rat brought me my next assignment. There must be more innocents than that who needed avenging in this godforsaken hellhole of a city.

Then again, maybe there weren't? After all, like I said, the city was a real hellhole.

What if there were only forty-nine innocents here?

I laughed at the thought. Now that would be justice for me, wouldn't it? Doomed to spend eternity looking for the ever elusive number fifty.

I wondered if I'd go crazy if such were to be my fate. Maybe crazy enough to break the curse? I'd heard once that insane people were immune to the various voodoos wizards weaved.

But I knew eventually I'd pay my dues. Eventually I'd be free. Eventually, number fifty would show up to be avenged.

With that comforting thought, I curled up in my cloak and my memories, and tried to nod off.