writing_shadows

I was glad for the rain, for the cold, today. I’d downplayed my pain yesterday – my reason for being here was not renown – but it was still there. It would be there for a while yet.

I finished off my makeup (heavier than usual today, to hide the redness of the burn). My reflection stared at me, her expression unreadable. The fang marks from a long-ago fight peeked out from the edge of her collar. I adjusted mine and they disappeared from view again.

My reverie was interrupted by a young mother of two coming into the public bathroom to change her baby’s diaper. My reflection and I flashed her matching smiles and went away.

The mall was busy; lots of people were here to waste time and stay dry. I joined their throng, anonymously browsing idly through the latest fashions.

Teenage girls tittered past me. How long ago it was that I was one of them! Three years it’s been since I went shopping with my friends, bewailing the number of calories in a Frappuccino.

Three years since my first kill.

I thought of Kirsten leaning heavily on me after the battle, wounded and vulnerable. I thought of her ripping out the throat of the Spiral who’d utterly failed to shoot me.

I thought of Fists with Fury – clearly a woman with a great sense of humour – asking me to dye her green, of her laughter as we kidded around in her flat. I thought of her brawl with Shitkicker, and its interruption by the sinister noise deep in the heart of the caern.

I thought of Jake, green and stammering. I thought of him slicing through his foes like an expert; no hesitation, no uncertainty then.

I thought of Sammy, whining confusedly as she came out of her first frenzy. I thought of her careful and cunning trap deployment.

What a bunch we were.

We were lucky this time. We may have been untrained, but they were unsuspecting. This time we won.

I looked at the row of animal-themed umbrellas in front of me. I ran my finger along one of the ribs, using the motion to calm the rage that threatened to burble up.

Because I was angry. The "hive dive" was poorly managed. We were lucky this time.

We wouldn’t be lucky next time. Next time we’d need to be good.

I selected an umbrella, bright yellow and billed, its cheerful duck face folded away for the moment.

It was time to work with the rat.