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

Part 8

I spent the rest of the night pondering the apparition that had appeared to me. There was no other explanation. The girl had to of been some form of unnatural phantom. People of flesh and blood don't just simply up and vanish before your eyes.

But she seemed so solid and real, at least up until that point.

My mind could not concoct any other reason for her sudden departure by such bizarre means. And, if I was honest, it was all so clear to me. Those marks on her neck? No one would have survived those. Her circulation had been more than adequately ended by whoever tied her up, and I felt so utterly stupid for not recognizing that truth before now.

But then again, I'd never met a ghost before. Demons who look like rats? Yes. But not a ghost.

So I suppose I should have gone easier on myself for not considering the possibility of the girl being already dead. But all that had transpired now resulted in a huge upside to the encounter. The girl was, in fact, deceased. Unequivocally.

That meant a higher probability of Gertrude releasing me to avenge her. If only she was innocent enough.

The old wizard's familiar remained skittish in the shadows for the rest of the night. She didn't bother me. All the rat did was hover there in the darkness, locked in place. Red eyes bobbing, she dwelled in the dark, fixated on the spot where the girl, like a hallucination, once stood and leaving me to my thoughts.

Those thoughts were primally simple. Five men. Five shards. Five steps closer to my own death with each of their own. That predominant thought drummed in my mind. I didn't care one lick about the girl's fate or how she came to be a restless soul anchored to the world. She was just an important number — the number five.

Shards twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, and thirty-three. They were as good as spent. At least, as far as I was concerned. And in short order if I had anything to say about it.

A large leap to make. And a joyous one, if only the blasted rat would agree with my plans.

When dawn came the next day, the rain stopped. Slowly, I dried out, but the possibilities kept me in a daze. Together they swirled in my mind like a tornado, repeating over and over again.

Having such a singular focus caused me to neglect my once more growing hunger. Thoughts of killing to end my curse contained all the nourishment I needed.

And I puzzled over the entirety of the situation. I wondered how to find five men to take five shards, all with no more information than what I already possessed.

But I was getting well ahead of myself, and the rat. Damn, my mind was going around in circles.

Yet I couldn't help it.

As the day slipped by and night crept in to reclaim the city, Gertrude remained obstinate, failing to give her blessing to this quest. But I knew in my gut it wouldn't matter. She would. Eventually. Wouldn't she?

This situation fit the mold of the curse perfectly. All I hoped for was that the girl had been innocent enough to qualify. That was the only sticking point I could fathom. But if a hooker qualified, surely a girl would.

Now wouldn't that be a sad farce if she didn't? What if she turned out to be some maniacal crime lord whose own henchmen had revolted against her? Again, I chuckled. I found myself hilarious at times. Gertrude? Not so much.

I was back to wondering how to find these five men while Gertrude remained diligent in watching the spot where the phantom had left us. Hours after sunset, she began hissing at it in earnest.

A moment later, the dead girl reappeared. The same confused look on her face, it was as though not a second had passed for her.

Her reappearance startled me. I hadn't expected this, but I took advantage.

"Can you show me where the men are?" I asked.

She was looking where I had been standing last night, taking a moment to figure out my new location. "I won't go back there," she cried into her hands.

Stalking up to her, I probably exuded a more menacing air than I intended. I wasn't good at being the consoling type.

She slunk back until hitting the wall, seeming pretty substantial for a ghost.

I reached out and put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She was definitely very solid. And she was also very warm.

For some reason I figured ghosts would be cold. I was on the verge of death, and I was freezing. Why not her?

I didn't understand the theory of ghosts. But I learned something today that I found interesting. Maybe I'd write a book about it? You know, once this was over and to pass the time until Gertrude once again brought me another victim.

"Show me the men," I said. "I'll make sure they never bother you again." Coyly, I showed her my knife.

Her eyes widened.  "You really are Death," she muttered.

"No. But I do have an interest in the wrongs done to innocents."

No need to tell her the passion within me was out of my willingness to get my own death over with, and nothing to do with the suffering of the innocents themselves. What difference did such a trivial point matter? I was offering to help. Yes, mostly help me, since she was already dead. But help, nonetheless.

Still, the fact was, I had a daughter once. Carli, that was my daughter's name, had been the best thing ever to happen to a sorry sack like me. And she'd be about this girl's age now. If something like this had happened to my daughter? I'd have gone on a killing spree the likes of which this city had never seen.

Those feelings bubbling up inside my gut made me realize that I'd never gotten over losing Carli. No matter how many times I told myself I had. As if the locket wasn't prima facia evidence of how I was holding on to the past with earnest devotion.

Coupling that with this apparition's brown hair and her brown eyes I could now see? Together they reminded me of the daughter I never got to see grow up. And that thought caused me to feel pity for her and myself.

I also contained an inordinate amount of shame within my soul that I had let my beloved Carli go so easily. I could have found her and my wife. I know I could have. It's what I did for a living. So why didn't I?

Maybe part of me was really quite happy to not be saddled with a family anymore? It would have been a lie, but one I could see myself convincing a younger me of at the time.

The phantom girl and I stood there, looking at each other. Then, just like the night before, she vanished.