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21. Art and Chess

Hera.

She clapped. "My, you are an extremely good shot." She sipped her liquor. "But a little too trigger happy."

The bullet had ricocheted off of a field in front of her, tearing through a collection of alcohol bottles and showering the small bar with glass and alcohol. My gun smoked, still pointed at the devil's incarnation. It was a field, the sort I'd used in the Manor on more than one occasion. Impenetrable.

She tapped the chess board in front of her. "I heard you like to play. Why don't we?"

"I did not kill your people to come and play a game I love with a person I loathe."

I saw the muzzles flash before the bark of the gun. I dived to my right as the bullet tore the carpet I'd just stood on. The office was dark bar the light coming from behind Grace. An extra gunman, but I should have been able to spot them. How many more of them were here?

Hunter would have heard it, he'd be measured and wait.

I slid the silver desert eagle out of its hold and fired into the darkness. Not in an attempt to kill the hidden shooter, but to alert Hunter that I'm okay. Just one bullet. No frantic shots of panic, that would pull him in here and he could get caught.

"I suggest you play, Abigail."

She swore in my head.

I stood, keeping the guns in either fist. I kept my eyes on her, she was smiling, blue eyes sparkling in the darkness. Sparkling with malice. They twitched as I put the heavy guns on the table, pointed in her direction. You only bring a gun out to kill, and this was a promise to Grace. These guns would be the end of her, one way or another. For Nero and for the little girl she ruined.

She smiled and cocked her head. "I believe the guest should go first."

"You're about to lose the Gray." I glared at her. "In either case, it was never yours. Why play a game of chess?"

"Because," she poured me a glass of liquor and slid it across the table, "this is a reunion between artist and masterpiece. Well, almost. You're not finished yet."

I flicked the glass of off the table. "Don't play games with me."

She shrugged, her black hair bouncing on her shoulders. "It's like you said. You've burnt down around thirty percent of my Island. The Gray is locked down with, what was it, three platoons? Alpha platoon has their snipers pointing at the Island right now." She leaned back. "So if I made a move right now, you'd slaughter my people. You've won, so why not a final good gesture."

"How do you know about that?" I growled, my thumbs stroking the guns, the slightest sound of shuffling came from the darkness. The field was still up, my guns only made it half way across the table as I nudged them forward.

"Play the game." She winked. "And then we can start talking."

"Anyone with any sort of intellect would know that white begins."

She gave me a thin smile. "Such a mouth." She clicked the pawn in front of her bishop a place forward.

"Now," I moved the pawn in front of my queen two places, "explain how you came to that information.

"Such as the information of you killing the original leader of the Rogues?" Pawn in front of her knight two places forward.

King diagonal four places. "Check." Bitch.

She smirked. "Fool's Mate? I was expecting more of you, Abigail."

"For the scum of this earth, I have nothing to offer." I leaned forward. "How did you learn that?"

"Because I did not for one minute accept your freedom bullshit. You killed the man in charge of the Rogues because you're a smart woman. You didn't want another war, your men were tired and you were entering unknown territory." She filled her glass again. "The Gray was an opportunity for you since the east coast was practically erased from the map. So instead of losing, you found a small group: underfunded, undermanned, lacking vision. You stepped in and worked your way up with the power of two hundred soldiers that would clear an entire apartment building at the snap of your fingers."

The barrier was still up, the shuffling in the dark had quieted. Where was Hunter? Hopefully he'd seen the barrier, Ceejay would have to bring it down. I'd get a signal then. Wait for now, patience wins. I forced down the acid bubbling at the back of my throat. Her chalk like skin was making me sick, nearly glimmering the same way my nails were. She'd painted hers red, just like her dress.

I'd paint my own portrait with the blood from the artery in her throat.

"I'd say you're one of the greatest minds this side of the war." She smiled. "And I created you. My nearly complete-"

I slammed my palm on the table, throwing pieces off of the board. "You did not create me."

"Oh? Then tell me, Hera. Where would you be if I hadn't bought your parents and sold them to a skin farm? Where would you be if I hadn't used your siblings as laborers to tear down their own house?" She leaned in, separated by a chess board's length. "Where would you be if I hadn't burnt down that house with them inside of it?"

My hand twitched. Patience.

"I can tell you where you'd be," she muttered. "You'd be a smear on that blackened wood right now as well. I made you the woman you are today. I made you strong. I made you resilient. I made you and now you have my family's land in your hands. And now I just have to take care of you, and my masterpiece would be complete."

"You make me sick."

"As do you."

"You're nothing but a woman flailing in her own depression. Drowning her loneliness with paintings of people smiling and happy. Of children with parents and grandparents. Of women getting married. Luxuries you'd never experience." I stood. I wasn't going to be looked down on by such filth. "You think the whole in your chest will be filled by taking the Gray?"

Her eyes had glazed over ever so slightly, the edge of her mouth twitched and she said, "No. But it'll make all of the bloodshed worthwhile. Isn't that your ethos as well, Abigail?"

"We do not share morals."

"No. We clearly don't. But we do share the hunger for power and control." She stood as well, our stares pushed against each other, forcing one another to back down, neither of us did. "And you've basked in the sun light the Fallow blessed you with enough."

I raised my guns. "You should be grateful that my guns are raised for you. Only the ones worthy of death at my hands receive such a pleasure."

She smirked. "You know, a common phrase you hear is how hard it is to kill us Fallows." She put her hand on the table and looked me over. "My guess? God doesn't want us up there, so he keeps us down here so the shadows whisper to us and the silence cuts us. Or, the devil wants to spite God and keeps us on his earth. That's my thinking." She shrugged. "I admit that we've been a family that have butchered millions in our conquest to stand as leaders on earth. And we pay for those sins up until today. But my God, it feels amazing knowing that my masterpiece is finished."

Her hair swayed forward as she leaned over the table, its fringes crossed the chess board's half way mark.

I squeezed the trigger, but another gun raged. My guns flew out of my hands and she lunged. Her nails bit into my wrists and my back slammed into the floor. I kicked out and dug my boot into her gut, pushing her off. She'd cut deep, but nothing major had been hit.

I sprung up and kicked out, by foot connecting with her side. She staggered to the side, I grabbed a handful of her hair and brought my fist back.

But something cold clamped my wrist in the air.

I always hated his cologne.

"Hera."

"Jin."

Grace twisted and broke free from my grip. She was panting, but a smile that rivaled Magnus' spread across her bright red lips. "Hunter did a number on my leg." She pulled her dress up, revealing torn stitches about an axe lengths long. No wonder she stumbled. "I'd have to return the favour."

Jin was holding my arm in an unusual way. Too tight, too strong, and too well placed. Better than he'd been able to do two years ago. And not even Hunter's grip was this tight. This wasn't training, this was unnatural, calculated. I glanced at a clear alcohol bottle reflecting his face – no contact lenses either. If I moved, he'd snap it. Or flip me. But the way his jaw line jerked as he flexed it removed the latter from the list of options.

Grace clamped her hand on my wrist, pain shot up from the cuts she'd torn into my skin. She smiled as the crimson flowed over her pale fingers. "You've entertained me enough, so I'll let you pick. Would you prefer a public exhibition, where I cut you open in front of an audience? Or should I slit your throat here and now." She licked her lips. "Your blood would make a great color for my dress in a portrait of myself, wouldn't you say?

A soft clink. Two axes tapping together. He was here and watching. Time to give him my signal.

I kicked her, a quick step forward and my boot collided with her head again. Jin pulled me back and yanked. The snap was earth shattering, the pain wasn't immediate, but it was there. An electrocution of agony shot through my body as he grabbed my shoulder and twisted. Not to dislocate, to shatter.

It shattered, and pain like getting town apart blinked me into darkness for a split second.

Far away, little Abigail screamed.

There was a shout, a raging cry, and Jin was off me. Through tear filled and squinting eyes, I saw Hunter sprinting into the room. He flipped over the table, collecting Jin with a flying kick. Jin dodged, but was caught by a follow up elbow.

A sharp heel pressed into my gut and I screamed. It twisted and bit into my stomach, Grace's malice filled smile wide and lucid. "My greatest piece to date."

She lifted her leg for another dig. I pulled myself out of the way with my left arm, but the heel caught my thigh. It tore into muscle and ripped into meat.

Far away, Hunter shouted my name.

I couldn't focus on Hunter. All I could see was Grace. Her flowing dress a gown of blood.

Far away, Nero was calling my name.

A brilliant white light exploded, and my world went silent.