Eight of Hearts: The Rift Blade - Book 1

Chapter 12

Jonas paced nervously outside the warehouse as he waited with Dr. Watson. He wanted to rush in and help Sherlock Holmes capture the Ripper, but Dr. Watson kept assuring him that Holmes had everything under control.

"I can't believe the great Sherlock Holmes is relying on something as ridiculous as witchcraft," Jonas huffed. He swished his rapier through the air, anxious to be of use.

Watson frowned, concerned with the boy's behaviour. "You act as though you are unfamiliar with the supernatural," he commented.

"Oh, I'm familiar with it," Jonas answered, halting in place as he turned on the doctor. "I just hate that this Sherlock Holmes is so dependent on it."

"What do you mean by 'this' Sherlock Holmes?" Watson asked. His bid to distract Jonas from his worries seemed to be working, at least.

"I'm not just from the future," he answered. "I'm from another world entirely. A world where Sherlock Holmes is fiction."

Should I really be telling him all of this? Jonas wondered. Yes, if they can accept magic and time-travel, he should be able to understand this.

Watson looked amused. "Really?" he asked, his skepticism now fully tangible.

"Of course! And you are too, for that matter. But the Holmes I know -- that I look up to -- relies on his brilliant mind to solve mysteries and catch criminals. This...reliance on magic..." he gestured sharply at the warehouse.

"You say I speak nonsense, but in this world, magic is what brings order and development," Watson said, shaking his head.

"And I have none of it! I mean, what am I even here for? I can fight with a sword, maybe, but I haven't the slightest clue how to deal with magic!" Jonas felt his rage building. "Do you know what it's like to meet your idol, only to find he's been twisted beyond recognition? I can tell you, it sucks! And it sucks that I can't live up to my expectations either!"

Jonas clenched his fist on the handle of the rapier, frustrated at his uselessness. He was woefully unprepared for these new variables. His life until this moment was governed by logic and reasoning. Even with these strange circumstances, as long as he could recognize clearly 'what' was happening, he knew he could come to understand 'how' and 'why'.

A compulsion came over him. A compulsion to go to the Ripper. He had to see it. He had to see what magic could do. Then he could try to figure out how it worked, and what it could be used for.

"I'm going in," he said to Watson. He felt a surge of satisfaction as he started toward the warehouse.

I can...I will...I am...

"Jonas, you must stay calm," Watson warned. "Just let Holmes handle--"

"I've got something to offer too!" Jonas snapped, giving in to his anger. "I've already beat him once, and he had his weapon that time! I can help! I will beat him again!"

He began walking toward the warehouse, but Watson grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.

"Jonas, just calm down, you can't handle--" Watson started to say.

A memory flashed before Jonas of James's face, his kind expression one of gentle pity. The memory was not a pleasant one.

A few bullies were ridiculing Jonas, saying nothing he hadn't heard before. It was always best to ignore them, and they would eventually move on.

James stepped forward to intervene, escalating the confrontation into a full-on fight. James won, and turned to comfort Jonas. Like he was a child who had lost a toy.