Darkness Girl: Trickster God

By Sam_McGregor

9.8M 286K 36.6K

Can a natural killer learn to be human again? Regan's unique talent for murder makes her a perfect assassin... More

Prologue
Chapter One: One Fatal Weakness
Chapter Two: A Carpet of Stars
Chapter Three: A Worm's Tears
Chapter Four: The Price of Death
Chapter Five: Human Scum
Chapter Six: Theatre of the Grotesque
Chapter Seven: A Notoriously Short Shelf Life
Chapter Eight: The Mysteries of Sorrow
Chapter Nine: Bright Young Things
Chapter Ten: Puppet Show
Chapter Eleven: The Stench of Deceit
Chapter Twelve: The Irresistible Undercurrent of Betrayal
Chapter Thirteen: Terrors of the Mind
Chapter Fourteen: A Pianist's Hands
Chapter Fifteen: Unspeakably Ugly Methods
Chapter Sixteen: Bright Lights
Chapter Seventeen: Painful Clarity
Chapter Eighteen: The Chained Dog
Chapter Nineteen: A Glimpse of Steel
Chapter Twenty: Fear of the Dark
Chapter Twenty-One: Low Trickery
Chapter Twenty-Two: Misplaced Hope
Chapter Twenty-Three: Shock Tactics
Chapter Twenty-Four: Lessons in Violence
Chapter Twenty-Five: A Brief Shaft of Light
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Blind Nightmare
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Effortless Force
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Trickster God
Chapter Thirty: Past Lives
Chapter Thirty-One: Acute Agony
Chapter Thirty-Two: The Broken Girl
Chapter Thirty-Three: The Thing That Looks Back
Chapter Thirty-Four: Invisible Scars
Chapter Thirty-Five: Common Decency
Chapter Thirty-Six: Throwing Rocks at Waves
Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Sound of Screaming
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Shackles of Fear
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Fluttering Pieces of Paper
Chapter Forty: The Sickness of Evil
Chapter Forty-One: Fortress of Flesh
Chapter Forty-Two: Civilised People
Chapter Forty-Three: The Currency of Power
Chapter Forty-Four: Dog Nose
Chapter Forty-Five: Anatomy of Killer
Chapter Forty-Six: Breathing Techniques
Chapter Forty-Seven: Purity in Strength
Chapter Forty-Eight: Good Manners
Chapter Forty-Nine: Circles in Circles
Chapter Fifty: A Friendly Face
Chapter Fifty-One: Blind Spot
Chapter Fifty-Two: Ice Machine
Chapter Fifty-Three: A Twisted View
Chapter Fifty-Four: The Unbroken Mirror
Chapter Fifty-Five: Trust Exercise
Chapter Fifty-Six: A Lasting Impression
Chapter Fifty-Seven: Circus Troupe
Chapter Fifty-Eight: Strength of Conviction
Chapter Fifty-Nine: Failed Dreams
Chapter Sixty: The Foundations of Trust
Chapter Sixty-One: Choke Point
Chapter Sixty-Two: The Power of Hatred
Chapter Sixty-Three: Unfamiliar Waters
Chapter Sixty-Four: The Living Flesh
Chapter Sixty-Five: Lightning Rod
Chapter Sixty-Six: Unassailable Heights
Chapter Sixty-Seven: A Lake of Fire
Chapter Sixty-Eight: Vengeance Spiral
Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Smell of Fire
Chapter Seventy: Putrid Flesh
Chapter Seventy-One: Scavenger
Chapter Seventy-Two: Dark Shadows
Chapter Seventy-Three: God Slayer
Chapter Seventy-Four: Consolations of the Dead
Chapter Seventy-Five: Devil

Chapter Twenty-Six: Panic Maelstrom

134K 3.6K 309
By Sam_McGregor

'I won't give you the chance,' Regan hissed. 

Bastian blinked as she whipped up her sword and closed in on Trevellian with vicious speed. Her sword flashed in the rain and there was a sharp, bright sound as it met Trevellian's knife. 

Trevellian laughed. 'You were faster before, my frosty angel.' 

Regan rebounded like a ball and came at Trevellian again with a storm of savage slashes. They were too quick for Bastian to follow, but somehow Trevellian saw them and caught them easily. His style was strangely hypnotic as he weaved sinuously through Regan's attacks like a silk scarf on the wind. Knives would appear and disappear from his hands seemingly at random, like a magician producing an endless stream of cards. As much as Bastian hated to admit it, Trevellian was strong. 

Beside him Carver drew in a short, painful breath and tried to push herself up. A dark stain was spreading around the wound in her stomach, and her skin was already becoming waxy and pale. Bastian rushed to her and gently helped her into a sitting position. 

'I'm done,' she winced. 'I shouldn't have let that one through.' 

'Shut up. Don't try to talk.' 

He slipped his hands under her armpits and dragged her to the edge of the landing, where he propped her against the railing next to one of the deck lights. Behind him the sounds of battle were intensifying. 

'You need to help her,' Carver whispered. 'Did you feel the pressure before that infiltrator attacked?' 

'I could barely stand up.' 

'He's strong. Regan is one tough chick, I'll give her that, but in her current state she doesn't stand a chance against a guy like that. Help her.' 

'What about you?' 

'You're a sweet guy, but you're soft in the head. If she loses, I'm dead either way.' 

Bastian stood up and ran his fingers across the spikes on his cheek. Carver was right. At first glance he had assumed that Regan was on the offensive. Her attacks came with the same ferocity as when she'd killed the guard, and so far she hadn't given Trevellian a single opening to respond, but even so Bastian felt uneasy. It didn't feel like Trevellian was losing. It felt like he was waiting for something. 

'How much longer can she keep up this pace?' said Carver. 'Soon she'll slip, and when she does she's dead.' 

Bastian shivered and felt more spines emerging around his face and head. He lifted a fist and concentrated. Wicked barbed points pierced through the skin of his knuckles. 

'I guess it's down to me then.' 

Regan slashed at Trevellian's stomach and took a second too long to recover. It was only a moment, but suddenly Trevellian's stance changed. His hand lashed forwards and his knife caught Regan across the shoulder. Bright blood splattered across the railings at the edge of the landing. Regan staggered back clutching the fresh wound. 

Bastian didn't think. There was no time to think. He rushed towards Trevellian with an animal scream that rose up from his chest and tore through his throat. Blood was pounding in his head as he closed in and attacked with violent fury. Sounds in his ears melded together until they were a constant wall of white noise, and his vision began to narrow into a pinpoint. He threw one wild punch after another, charging at Trevellian in a mad rush without finesse or strategy

His punches whipped though empty air as Trevellian slipped away from them, but he'd caught the infiltrator by surprise. Trevellian retreated to give himself some distance, and Bastian surged forward. Step by step, he forced him away from Regan with the chaotic intensity of his attack. He didn't know whether he was screaming words or pure gibberish, but he yelled at the top of his lungs anyway. He didn't want to give Trevellian a moment's breathing space. He pushed forward and used the spines on his body as a defence as he struck out at any target he could see. 

Trevellian's movements became more elusive as he wove around Bastian's punches. His initial surprise at Bastian's appearance had slowly transformed into a look of curious calculation. Bastian sensed the change in his movements and felt a stab of fear. The difference in their skill levels was obvious. The suddenness of his attack had given a brief advantage, but it was evaporating like mist under the hot summer sun. 

Trevellian slipped under Bastian's arm and slashed a knife across his side. Bastian felt a sharp pain as the blade opened his flesh to the bone. Another knife flashed up almost instantly and left a deep gash on his forearm. Bastian didn't retreat. He drove forward through the pain throwing punch after furious punch. 

'It's pointless to attack without thinking,' said Trevellian. 'It leaves you open everywhere.' 

His knife whipped across Bastian's face. Bastian felt the blade ricochet off a spine on his cheek only a few millimetres from his eye. He threw a hook at Trevellian's body, but the infiltrator neatly stepped out of range and placed a cut on the back of Bastian's hand. 

'You're never going to hit me, fool. I'm going to bleed you to death with a thousand cuts.' 

Bastian tried to ignore him, but he could feel the frustration rising in his stomach. Trevellian's movements were like water. No matter how Bastian attacked, he seemed to move out of the way. It was like trying to attack a ghost. Bastian tried to surprise him and spun around in a quick twist that brought the back of his fist up in a swift arc aimed at Trevellian's head. 

It was a mistake. 

Trevellian wasn't where Bastian expected him to be, and for a split second he hesitated. 

Trevellian's knife slipped around Bastian's defences and sliced down across his torso from his chest to his hip. Blood spurted from the wound and poured down his chest. Bastian stood for a second, frozen in shock, before his legs folded up and he fell to his knees. Trevellian looked down at him appraisingly then kicked him in the shoulder, sending him sprawling onto the ground. 

'If you try to fight like that, someone's liable to end you,' he said. 'Now lie there and stay put like a good boy.' 

Bastian looked up at the rain and felt hot tears rising as Trevellian turned away from him. The frustration burned in his chest like a coal, not just with Trevellian, but with his own inability to do anything. The infiltrator had pushed him aside as easily as tissue paper. He didn't even rate as an enemy, just another distraction. 

Bastian's fingernails scraped across the rough metal surface of the deck. 

'I can still be useful.' 

Trevellian looked back at him quizically. 'Excuse me?' 

Bastian rolled onto his stomach and slowly pushed himself back to his knees. He sucked in a gulp of air and let it hiss out between his teeth. The sharp pain of the wound on his torso seared through him as the movement pulled the cut in his flesh open. He placed a foot under himself and laboriously began to rise. 

Trevellian sighed. 'I have limited sympathy for bravado. My next knife is going through your head.' 

Bastian raised his hands into a fighting stance. His legs felt like they were going to collapse at any moment, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself focused. He readied himself to attack and tried to hold himself stable. He was about to step forward when a he felt a hand grip his shoulder. He looked across in surprise. Regan was next to him, looking at Trevellian with a stare that could have burned holes in steel. 

'You're done, amateur,' she said. 'I've got his measure now.' 

'Are you sure you can still fight?' 

'If I thought I needed your concern, I'd kill myself.' 

Trevellian laughed. 'There's no need to conceal your injuries, Regan. We're all friends here.' 

Bastian felt Regan's fingers dig into the flesh of his shoulder, but her expression remained impassive. 

'Your sword arm is shaking,' said Trevellian. 'Your face doesn't reveal anything, but I know you're in pain.' 

'It doesn't matter how injured I am. I've got more than enough strength left to send you on a trip to eternity.' 

'Even now, your arrogance remains unchanged. It would be infuriating if it wasn't so pathetic.' 

'While I'm still standing this fight isn't over.' 

'It is over, you just don't realise it,' Trevellian sniffed. 'I'm going to show you just how far you are from victory.' 

Regan let go of Bastian's shoulder and raised her sword to strike. 

Trevellian stepped back into the shadows and vanished.

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