Darkness Girl: Trickster God

Chapter Seventy-Two: Dark Shadows

Kessler straightened and turned to face Regan. A deep gash at the edge of her mouth transformed her expression into a sneer. The blood running down her face stood out vividly against her pale skin. She touched her hand to her mouth and examined it as if she wasn't sure where it had come from. 

Regan gripped the wound in her chest and felt sticky blood dribbling through her fingers. Trying to stop the flow was like holding back a tap. Splashes of it still shone wet on the concrete. 

Kessler watched her and ran a finger down the back of her sword. 'This isn't a victory. Every step you take extracts a toll in blood.' 

Regan circled her, looking for an opening. The burning hotel at her back seared her skin, but her chest was cold. She could feel the warmth spilling out of her. 

Kessler cocked her head to one side and looked across the car park at Sarafina and the others. Their shapes were barely visible through the darkness and smoke. 'You were dead a moment ago. I wonder where you found this new reserve of strength.' 

Regan's expression betrayed nothing. Her voice came out as a dry croak. 'Everyone wants to tell me what's on my mind these days. I've heard a thousand theories on what I am and what I'm not. Apparently, I don't get a say in any of them.' 

Kessler sighed. 'Your arrogance makes you think you're more complicated than you are. You're not a puzzle. Your entire existence is defined by the things you hate.' 

'That's only a problem if you're someone I hate.' 

Kessler shook her head. 'It disappoints me to see you like this. Silencers should use killing dispassionately, the way a surgeon uses a scalpel. You're a long way from that now. Every kill you've made since you dragged yourself out of the ocean has been driven by fury. You could have done anything, but you just keep coming back to revenge like a dog to vomit. You might as well be an animal.' 

Regan lifted her sword. Kessler's blood was still fresh on the blade. She watched a droplet form on the tip and fall away. 

'All that junk you spew about conviction and ambition sounds profound, but it's garbage. It's pretty window dressing to conceal the fact that what we do is simply violence. An animal and a poet can be equally good at it.' 

'Even now, I can't tell if you love killing or you hate it.' 

'Does it matter?' 

Regan feinted right as Kessler lunged forward, leaving Kessler stabbing at air. She slipped past, and the point of her sword caught Kessler's side. The blade ran across her ribs and opened her flesh to the bone. 

Kessler lashed out with powerful, vicious swipes, but Regan was elusive. She jumped backwards as Kessler turned and slashed at her. Her movements flowed into one another as Kessler's sword sliced past her stomach. 

Regan's speed was increasing now. As their blades scraped and clashed together, Kessler started to slip back. Regan's cuts were light, but each one that slipped through drew blood. 

'You've sacrificed your power for speed,' said Kessler. 'Are you sure your friends have enough time for you to waste it brushing at me with a feather?' Her expression was still calm, but spots of colour burned in her cheeks. She sounded out of breath. 

Regan slipped under Kessler's sword and opened up another light cut on her body. The smoke was a thick, choking haze that burned her eyes and turned the air into a foul smelling soup. 

'I'd say none of us have a lot of time left, unless you've learned to breathe without oxygen.' 

The tip of Kessler's sword moved in confusing circles. 'You've always had a smart mouth, but your gambits are too obvious. A few cuts won't stop me. Without power behind your strikes, your sword might as well be made of paper.'