Eight of Hearts: The Rift Blade - Book 1

Chapter 15

As James dashed towards the skeletal force, the horde began shifting to swarm him with their numbers. But his breakneck pace allowed him to cleave through the first several enemies in a single swing of his sword, sending their brittle bones crumbling to the ground. Another lost an arm, falling to its knees at the impact of his sword, and James used its back as a springboard to launch himself into the air.

"Raaaaaargh!" he yelled as he hurtled through the air at a behemoth.

The beast swiped at him with a foreleg, but James was moving too quickly. He landed on the beast's neck, and sprinted along its spine towards the tail, slashing and severing the spine in several places as he ran.

He leaped again from the fallen behemoth, but the skeletal force was ready for him this time. They stood in a semicircle, each holding a large broadsword raised to strike. James landed in the middle of them, and took out one with a swift kick as he deflected his sword with his own. But he was disarmed a moment later by one of the others hemming him in. Swords closed in as James fell flat, trying to make himself a smaller target.

"Pew! Pew!"

Two of the skeletons exploded in a shower of dust, their broadswords hitting their allies and knocking them off balance.

"Bam!" Tobias yelled as he bowled through several skeletons with a reckless charge to James's aid. His heavy armor proved an effective battering ram as none of the skeletons in his path could stop him. He reached James and slid to a halt, brandishing a gun and grinning down at him.

"Well-" James began.

"Kaboom!" Tobias yelled, in perfect time with an explosion from the direction he had just charged in from.

Jonas's chest heaved. Even with Ripper gone, he still felt the pressure on his neck, cutting off his breath. Each gasp was excruciating and unrelieving. He reached a hand to find whatever was cutting off his air supply, but his fingers scraped aimlessly against the bare skin of his neck.

Sherlock Holmes was at his side in an instant. The Ripper was momentarily forgotten as he drew a small leather-bound book from his coat pocket. He opened it, thumbing through with barely a glance. When he found the page he wanted, he pulled out a pocket knife and began scratching at the floor next to Jonas.

Watson came bursting through the open door, taking in the scene at a glance. "He got away, Holmes," he said, out of breath from running. "I'm sorry, I couldn't stop him."

Holmes shook his head, not looking up from his work. "No matter. It was my fault for underestimating him," he said.

He slammed his fist hard on the floor he had just carved. There was a flash of light, and Jonas took one heaving breath before convulsing with coughs. It took him several minutes to calm down. By that time, Watson had taken over for Holmes, checking him over for injury.

"You're lucky, my boy," Watson said. "He had no interest in killing you tonight, or you would undoubtedly be dead."

"H-how was...he so much stronger than before?" Jonas asked. His head throbbed painfully as he sat up.

"He was merely a pawn. His master enhanced his strength so he could recover the dagger," Holmes answered with a bitter tone. "I had suspected as much, but I was unprepared. You'll need more than a rapier to defend yourself."

"Teach me magic," Jonas said. His tone was firm, despite his weakened state.

Holmes studied him impassively, but Jonas met his gaze without flinching.

"I need to know the rules before I can play the game," Jonas said, trusting the detective to understand the truth in his words. He wanted to help, but without knowing at least some of the dangers, he might as well be an infant.