Where Light Dies

24. Cards on the Table

"Sarah Dayton. Quite surprised seeing you here."

"Thank you for having us Mr. Langbert."

-- Carlisle, Base Camp -- Four months ago, 2015 --

A wry smile crept up his pale complexion. "I thought you said you'd never come back again."

That one was definitely meant to hit the spot.

"Desperate times, desperate measures," Sarah replied with ease as she took a seat. They were alone in the conference hall, the sun's rays showering the room in a light scarlet glow. Her eyes were now lost in the rivulets of red that trickled from the evening sun, illuminating the lands with the last of its brilliance before everything fell back into darkness. "Where's the rest?" she asked, her gaze shifting to the empty mahogany chairs that had been neatly arranged around the black glass table.

"I'll enlighten them on what you have to say later on. They're a bit well, let's say, sceptical," the man replied, eyeing the lady in front of him with caution.

"They're new, aren't they?"

"No dear," he answered in a deep British accent, "They came after you visited us is all. It has been six years, hasn't it?"

"I didn't think you would remember." Sarah lowered her eyes. It wasn't a thing that someone would forget so easily.

A woman and two children begging for help.

That would be ordinary.

One of the children on the verge of bleeding to death, and the other a monster that no one would even dare to look at.

Definitely not something one could forget.

She still had nightmares about that day. Their voices echoed in her ears at night, messing with her head until she couldn't sleep. Although the frequency had numbed to a near null over the years, she got chills every time the memory crossed her mind.

They're calling you a monster.

Don't talk Beth please just -

Don't be a monster.

No. No I won't.

Promise?

Promise.

"Sarah?"

"Yeah." Sarah raised her arms, dragging the palms over her face. "Zoned out for a second."

"It's not a matter that can easily be forgotten."

Langbert's eyes traced hers to the light of the dying sun, his gaze now lost in the silent vesper. "It's not every day you get to see the devil's offspring tamed. It's a marvellous feat you've accomplished. If only we could've gotten our hands on a few more."

Sarah didn't reply.

To a commoner, the bond between Blake and her would seem as strong as the one between a mother and her child. Gillian Langbert, however, was nothing like that.

Love?

Compassion?

He knew well that there was no such thing between them. It was all about the master and her tool.

When they first saw the monster of a child she'd brought to their doors, they were drenched in fear. Gillian himself had come to the gates to see the tamed beast, and it was he who judged that the being wouldn't be allowed to set foot in his sanctum.

There wasn't even a hint of remorse in her face when Sarah made her way into the camp with the handful of men that had come along as an escort, leaving the bane behind. It was clear that her own child came first in her list of priorities. Even humanity's greatest chance at turning the tides meant nothing to a mother who was on the verge of losing her child.

However, it was the eleven-year old's composure that sold it all out. His face was blank as she ran into the camp, shutting the doors behind her, leaving him on the unforgiving surface crawling with monsters of all kinds. It was as if she'd acted exactly as he expected her to, as if he'd seen this coming all along. This was far beyond a mother's love or a son's devotion. In the end, the boy was just a weapon.

A means to an end.

Gillian Langbert leaned in, his elbows digging into his knees while his fingers interlocked. "So, tell me Mrs. Dayton. How does it all, play out?"

Taking a deep breath, Sarah begun.

"We've been training him for the last seven years, that is ever since he was ten years old. We don't know so far about other banes, but his abilities are triggered by pain. It can be physical or mental, though the latter is far more effective. The more pain he endures, the stronger he gets."

Langbert's fingers were now tapping against his knuckles, his mind slowly taking in the sea of information. "The boy had blades wrapped around his arms when I last saw him. Isn't that bound to hurt him further?"

"Yes. The chain spirals around his hands when he draws more length, ripping his arms in the process. The longer he uses his, abilities, the stronger he becomes. There is a downside though." Sarah straightened her back, slowly dragging herself to the edge of her seat. "The more pain he is in, the lower is his ability to make rational decisions."

"Meaning he becomes unstable if he's pushed too far."

"After a certain limit, he may even go insane."

Gillian leaned back into his chair, his nails now itching the tip of his armrests.

"So basically, he's a ticking time bomb."

"That's the idea."

"And has he gone insane yet?"

Sarah bent her neck, her dark brown hair hanging down its side.

"A couple of times."

"Darks?"

"Training."

Langbert felt something tug at his chest.

"Training? What kind of training?"

"We needed him to develop a certain tolerance level to pain. Just high enough to keep the campers safe, and low enough that he can force himself to bring out his blades, should the occasion arise," the woman sighed as she leaned back into her chair as well.

"And how have you been doing that?" the man asked, his face suddenly turning dark.

"I have my methods."

Gillian Langbert's laughter rang through the conference hall. Every word that escaped his mouth soon after was coated with a layer of abhorrence.

"I don't know if I should respect you or despise you."

"I don't know if I care," Sarah replied calmly, stretching her back. "A few of our pack will be leaving tomorrow morning to search the city for him. We'll be taking a vehicle too. I hope you don't mind."

Gillian didn't answer her right away. His mind was preoccupied, pointing daggers at the woman before him. She wasn't just dangerous. She was a psychopath.

"No, not at all."

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