Ending Aston

Chapter 9

We enter the malt shop/bar and see there's only five people in there, the bartender, and four men all drinking alcohol at one table. Thankfully, they're speaking French, so I can understand them. They glance at Erik and I, and speak to us.

"Speak French?" One of them asks in French, raising his dark eyebrows at me. Looking at me with bright green eyes.

"Of course." I answer. "Visiting here too I see? Where in France are you from?"

"Yes. How long are you staying?"

"Just a few days."

"No? Where in France do you live? Maybe we'll be seeing more of each other...eh?" He winks at me and Erik, understanding what he said, stiffens.

I laugh half-heartedly, and I lightly tap my hand on Erik's back.

"You will be disappointed." I answer, walking over to them and sitting in front of them, and Erik walks over by the bar and leans against the wall. My eyes dart back and forth at the four of them, one of them has straight platinum blonde hair which is almost white and pale blue eyes, another one has straight brown hair and brown eyes, then there's the third, who was talking to me, with straight black hair and bright green eyes. The fourth has curly blonde hair and brown eyes.

"Hey Jamie! Another one of this!" The man with dark hair and green eyes says, holding his now-empty glass in the air.

"You know this man?" I ask, looking at the bartender called Jamie, who looks like one of the men in that picture.

"Yes. We go way way back. Back to when we were kids!" The man with dark hair and green eyes answers. "I'm Jaques by the way."

"Elsa."

"Beautiful name."

I fake a blush, and somehow he seems to believe it.

"Listen...I need to find someone. Maybe you know him or have heard of him?" I look at each of the men and then glance at the bartender. "I believe you know him?" I ask Jamie.

"What is his name?" Jamie asks me.

"Arnold Aston?"

"Oh yes! Arnold! How do you two know each other?"

"I was...one of his patients." I answer, and each man in the room except for Erik stiffens.

"Elsa..." Jaques says. "No wonder I recognize that name! You are Elsa Williams! You are the one who escaped all those months ago! You-!" Something seems to hit him in the back of the head and he falls forwards, his head hitting the table with a bang.

"Much better." Erik says, takes a drink from his glass, and a small ball of metal zooms back from the top of Jaques's head to Erik's hand. Erik glances at us and then one man leaps up from his chair while the other two don't move. Everyone but me stares at him in shock.

"What?" Erik asks simply.

"You are like her!"

"Pssh. No." He answers. "I'm slightly different."

"No! You are like her!"

"Oh shut up already."

The piece of metal zooms to his head and hits the man with platinum blonde hair in the head. The man falls forward and faceplants on the floor, unconscious. The bartender lunges towards Erik and the other two lunge towards me. I leap up from my chair and they somehow make it to their feet. They both lunge towards me again, and I grab one of their arms, swing them around so that I'm behind them and knee them as hard as I can in their tailbone. They cry out and fall to the ground.

I kneel down and the pin the man's arms behind his back. I glance back at Erik and see he's conveniently right by a set of knives.

Why are their knives on the counter of a bar? That's a safety issue...right?

Erik punches the bartender and the bartender staggers back.

"A knife would be fantastic right now!" I shout over to Erik, then stand up and dodge a punch coming from the second man. The man staggers forward, then turns towards me and I plant a foot in his chest, and push as hard as I can. The man slams against the corner of a wall and slumps down to the ground.

"Elsa!" Erik says just as the man who I pushed against the wall stands up. I turn quickly, snag the handle of the knife right when the man lunges again and pins me against the wall. I take the knife in my hand and stab him in his chest right between his lungs. He slumps forward and I push him off of me right when the other man starts to stand up.

"Don't bother getting up." I stomp down on the man's knee with my heel as hard as possible, easily dislocating it. The man cries out in pain and I crouch down next to the man and hold the knife to his throat. "Where is Aston?!" I demand.

"I don't know!"

"Don't test me..." I press the knife against his throat.

"I don't know!"

I press it harder against his throat.

"Please...please!"

I press the knife until it nearly penetrates his skin.

"Okay! Okay!" The man shouts. "He's in Venice! I swear! He's in Venice!"

"Where?" I demand.

"His lab. It's...it's..."

"It's where?"

"Under the..the Piazza San Marco."

"Under the what?"

"Piazza San Marco! Please! Let me go!"

I hold the knife against his throat for a second longer and then take the knife away.

"You're not French are you?"

"No."

"Then why are you here?"

"To watch out for you."

"How'd you know I was going to be here?"

"We didn't."

I hold the knife against his throat again.

"We didnt!"

I hesitate.

"Okay." I stand up and whip around right when I hear a gunshot. I turn and see Erik holding a gun, a bullet hole in Jacques's head.

"Jesus, Erik!" I see the bartender, Jamie, lying on the ground, dead too.

"Is that you're motto? You seem to like to use that a lot." He smirks.

"Well damn it, I wasn't planning on anything like this during our little trip!" Then I see someone with a large knife in their hand starting to creep up behind Erik from the shadows. "Watch out!" I say, and throw the knife at them, hitting their chest. They crumple to the ground and Erik looks over his shoulder at the dead man, then back at me.

"Thanks." He says. "Now, about what you said...don't plan on anything except ending Aston."

Then he looks at the man in pain on the ground behind me and shoots him.

"Let's go get Aston." He says, looking at me. "Somebody must have heard those gunshots."

Suddenly we hear shouts from the beach somewhere in the distance.

"Time to go." He says, and holds out his hand to me. I go over to him, take it, and we run out the back door of the bar/malt shop.