Dark Halls, Stone Walls

Chapter Seventeen

Earlier...

I swallowed hard as I held Pine's hands. There wasn't much I could do for the wound on her stomach—she must've known from the way her eyes held a strange peace. She wasn't struggling like I've seen so many others do when on the cusp of death.

"JJ," She began.

"You're going to get us all killed, I swear it." I shook my head. "You should've never gone near the third floor, what were you thinking?!"

She gasped for air and coughed as she laughed.

"I wasn't... much. You trust me, don't you?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Then trust that I did enough." She gripped my arm. "I've nothing left except my life, and even that I would give away a hundred times if it meant you could see your kid again." Her eyes, even though they looked into mine, I knew well enough that they saw beyond me.

She smiled. "He's waiting, you know?" She rasped. "For you to go home and make him a nice meal, clean the kitchen, help with his homework... What would I give to have that again? My son... I..." She laughed softly. "I pray that we have a soul so that I might see him again. Yes... I'd pray, JJ..."

Her eyes dulled.

I had no time to mourn—Eyes that could pierce iron burned into my back.

I whipped around with my dagger in hand and knocked away the blade that had aimed for my chest.

The area became unnaturally dark like I had been blindfolded in an instant. It knocked me away from Pine's body and pinned my wrists to a wall. He ripped my dagger away from me. By chance, I dropped down and the dagger scraped my ear—right where my heart should've been. The dagger moved.

I shot upward.

I kicked upward between the being's legs. The being cried out, despite there being a hard shell to protect him from fighters like me, but didn't let go.

So I kicked again. He whipped his hand across my face. I recovered just enough to catch the hand that he held the blade in, just centimeters from my chest.

"JJ, was it?" He mocked. "Shame, such a cute nickname for a face like yours."

I spoke through my teeth. "At least I can show my face to the people I have my eyes on—it only takes one encounter to make it happen. You? You have to compensate for your lack of... skill... somehow."

The blade pressed against my chest. He laughed. "Careful there, JJ. You almost made fun of your friend over there. It's not good to mock the dead, you know?"

"Oh, you'd know all about disrespecting the dead, wouldn't you?"

The hand that had my wrist pinned squeezed until something popped. Pain shot down my arm. I could hear the smile in his voice as he muttered, "About as much as you would about getting normal people hurt in trying to complete a job, like... oh, what was her name... Andy?"

I dug my fingernails into his skin until the smell of blood hit my nose and let out a sharp laugh. "No, like Catherine."

He sighed. "Yeah, you're dead."

"Gonna take more than one encounter, though, aren't you?"

His quick, adrenalized breaths turned into erratic wheezing.

Looks like the rumors were true.

His grip loosened on the dagger until it clattered onto the floor. The darkness flashed in and out until it finally ebbed away to show a man average in stature, clutching his inflamed throat. His face was pink from the allergic reaction, but he was likely a warm-toned tan man based on his only hand that wasn't affected by the bleach that I had worked with earlier. It wasn't a common allergy to have among our staff, but he did a decent job avoiding cleaning jobs for as long as he did.