The Wraiths, part 7: The Battle
Gaslight fantasy: A detective and his partner finally converge on the hideout of the Wraiths and prepare for a final confrontation.
In Lockdam, old meets new; strange magic meets tradition and as these tensions mount, nobody may be safe.
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Part 8
Last time in City of Witches, ran talked to an old woman claiming to have information on the Wraiths. He questioned her, fitting pieces together, only.be interrupted and overpowered by the Wraiths themselves.
I braced myself for the blow, my mind racing for a way out of this predicament. The leader's fist clenched around his cudgel, muscles tensing as he prepared to strike.
Suddenly, the kitchen door burst open again. A blur of blond hair and righteous fury charged into the room.
"Unhand him, you cretins!" Winchester's crisp accent rang out, holding a pair of short thick sticks, already flying at heads.
The leader spun, caught off guard by the new threat. Winchester's right stick connected with a satisfying crunch, sending the masked thug staggering backward.
My captors loosened their grip, distracted by the chaos. I seized the opportunity, driving my elbow into one's solar plexus and twisting free. As he doubled over, gasping, I swept his legs out from under him.
Winchester grappled with another assailant, his advanced training evident in every precise movement. He ducked under a wild swing, then countered with a vicious uppercut that sent the thug in the mask flying.
I scrambled to my feet, snatching up the fallen skillet. The leader had recovered, lunging at Winchester with his cudgel raised high. I swung the skillet with all my might, connecting solidly with his shoulder. He howled in pain, the cudgel clattering to the floor.
"Retreat!" the leader bellowed, clutching his injured arm. "This isn't over, Ran!"
The thugs scrambled for the exit, shoving past each other in their haste to escape. Winchester made to pursue, but I grabbed his arm.
"Let them go," I panted, my chest heaving. "Trust me."
As the sound of pounding footsteps faded, I turned to find Clara emerging from her hiding place behind the overturned table. Her eyes were wide with shock, darting between Winchester and me.
"Are you alright, ma'am?" Winchester asked, ever the gentleman despite his disheveled appearance.
I'll alert the Precinct and the police will send some officers, but for now we need to go."
I dusted off my coat, wincing at the bruises already forming beneath. Winchester stood beside me, his usually immaculate uniform rumpled and smeared with grime. The cobblestones beneath our feet were slick with the evening's drizzle, reflecting the dim glow of nearby streetlamps.
"I must admit, Winchester, I didn't expect to see you charging in like a knight in shining armor," I said, adjusting my spectacles. "Thank you for coming back."
Winchester's posture stiffened, his chin lifting slightly. "Personal anger means little before duty, Detective Ran. I may have... overreacted earlier, but I couldn't very well abandon you to face danger alone."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Overreacted? You looked ready to challenge me to a duel."
A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Winchester's mouth. "Yes, well, perhaps we can save the dueling for another day. Where to now? Surely we're not letting those ruffians escape?"
"I left a tracker on a guy I met at that tavern cross the street. I figure he went and told the Wraiths I was about."
Winchester's eyebrows shot up. "A tracker? Is this some sort of…thaumic thing?"
"Yeah, Winchester." I , pulling out a small device that resembled a pocket compass. Its face glowed faintly, a needle quivering as it pointed down the street. "This little beauty should lead us straight to their hideout. I always keep one handy after my last run in with these worthies."
"Impressive," Winchester said, leaning in to examine the device. "I hadn't realized the local police had access to such technology."
I waved my hand dismissively. "Oh, they don't. This is all mine. Now, shall we see where our masked friends have scurried off to?"
* * *
"You ready? We can't wait for backup. We're going in alone."
Winchester didn't say anything. He just drew two short, thick sticks from under his jacket and nodded.
I checked my revolver. "Alright then."
We stood just outside a small, leaning brick house. It was on the far side of town,with windows boarded up. The needle on my compass was spinning in every direction. Still in there. I put it away.
"I'll go around back," said Winchester.
I waited. Ten seconds. Twenty. A minute.
I kicked in the door.
"This is the police!" I yelled, running into the entryway. The whole place was dark. Moving forward, I bumped into a table covered in junk.
Pocket watches, engines, hats, spectacles, a wide array of pilfered goods. That told me we were in the right place. I heard Winchester yell not too far away. The room I was in was supposed to he a small salon, with a dead fireplace. It was dark and had tables lining each wall. There was a staircase on the left, a corridor on the righr and a door on the right wall.
I turned and drew my felt tipped marker, drawing a thaumic circle on the door. I applied concentration and with a flash of lightening the wood melded into the frame. I tried the handle and the whole thing was stuck. I turned back to the room.
Movement on the stairs. I fired, the recoil sening a jolt through my spine. The figure tumbled down the stairs and I move to check his pulse. Dead. I straightened up and opened that door. A bedroom. I checked under the bed and someone jumped me from behind.
He yelled in my ear and threw a meaty arm around my neck. I yelled just as loud and tried to slam him in to the wall. I stumbled and fell, on top of him. He squeezed my neck and slammed my relolver in his face, drawing blood.
He yelled and squeezed harder.
I held the barrel of my gun head and the pressure slackened. He let go. I jumped up and told him to put his hands on his head.
He did so, slowly.
"You're the jerk from the bar," he said.
"Could say the same for you."
Just then, Winchester came through the door. "Two down, Ran."
"Good. Watch this guy, I'll get upstairs."
I backed out of the room, rumpled, covered in blood. I turned toward the stairs, and stepped over the body. As I climbed them,there was a flash as someone swung off the banister and planted their feet directly onto my chest.
I yelled and tumbled down the stairs, flipping ass over teakettle.
There was a savage yell and the figure jumped down the stairs. I threw myself backwards and scrambled for my feet. I Winston in the next room, fighting.
In the dim light, I could barely make the figure out. But his face was covered in a demonic looking mask, on which a small thaumic cirle glowed faintly.
I grabbed something off th table at random. He lunged at me and I whacked him with he silver topped cane handle. I weilded the cane like a club and hit him on the head, beating him back.
He grunted and backed away, hand coming up reflevixely to block it. He grabbed the cane and we wrestled to control it. His finger flipped some kind of switch pulled the cane handle off, a length of sharpened steel coming with it.
He held the canes sword in his hand, ready to strike.
"Come on Clerence!" I said as he lunged.
I brought the sheath down to block, throwing him off balance. I moved in close and put both hands on his mask and channeled everything I could through that damn circle on his mask.
I yelled as he stuck me with the sword. I yelled as as knew it was my last chance. I yelled at the lightening struck us both, knocking us to the floor.
I stared up at the ceiling, numb.
I heard him moaning.
I forced my body into motion and sat up, crawling to him.
The mask was destroyed, only a burnt remnant remaining. His face was a ruin.
I grasped him by the lappels. "You lose, you bastard. Only an a mature or a idiot puts a circle on a fixture. You could have just bound it in a ritual."
He just laughed.
"What?"
"You think I made it?"
"What?"
"Maybe I did." He laughed again.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. He made it just how he thought it should he."
My whole body clenched. "Somebody made it? Who? Someone in the college?" I shook him.
He just laughed.
"See you in hell."
He died.
"No you bastard!" I shook him.
"Ran!" said Winchester, panting. "He's dead. My god, look at you!"
"What?" I let him go and saw the burns on my hands.
"Ah…" I said, slumping back.
"Lightening."