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Post by James on Apr 9, 2010 4:04:44 GMT -5
((This thread will now be the home to all my little short stories about characters who will appear in Of Phantoms and Fays)) Natalie Williams and Vincent 'the Gogh' Spencer The Slaugh jumped from the bridge and into the icy waters of the Thames below, its mangled mass of muscles and limbs moving almost elegantly into a breast stroke as soon as the creature struck the water. Its sickly green hair floated out behind its body, hiding the hideously disfigured human form that separated the water. Thick muscular legs clashed with bony forearms, the pale rotting skin failing to cover fingers and elbows.
“Fuck,” Natalie muttered, watching the Slaugh drift with the current away from her. Already a smooth oak staff was clutched in her hand, reaching out from the bridge, several eruptions of fire falling short of the creature. “Fuck.”
She hadn’t expected that the creature terrorising London would turn out to be a Slaugh, a ghastly creature that had escaped the grave. Nor did she expect it to throw off her initial attacks like a tank, taking flight as soon as it realised that it had been discovered. Already her muscles ached from the chase, and her mind was tired from the extent of the magic that she had used to try and catch the beast. Therefore the very last thing Natalie wanted to do was dive into the freezing waters of the River Thames, at night.
“Fuck,” she muttered once more, shrugging off her parker only to be immediately attacked by the bitter cold of an April night. After a year in Rome, the cold of London was still an unwelcomed gift. Her toned frame was covered now in only a blouse and a frayed pair of jeans, her long tanned legs sneaking out from the bottom of the denim. With the Slaugh already disappearing from sight, Natalie clutched her staff tightly in her hand and leapt into the river beneath her.
“Jesus Christ,” she gasped, the cold knocking the breath out of her with one well placed punch. Water swirled around her, pushing her under as she struggled to compose herself, blonde hair sticking to her face. It really was ridiculous that after hunting all manners of monsters of the dark, cold water was still one of her deadliest enemies.
Pushing her body upwards through the water, Natalie gasped for a lungful of air, the oxygen almost tasting sweet in her mouth before giving chase to the Slaugh. She had lost sight of the beast altogether, but its movement still disturbed the water ahead, ripples barely visible in front of her. With her staff in hand, Natalie began to kick through the chilling water, eyes locked onto the distance.
Several minutes passed before Natalie became grateful that the current was with her, helping her clumsily move down the river. The ripples still appeared in the water in front of her, but they were steadily moving further away. Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, Natalie willed herself on, her aching muscles working overtime to gain on the creature. If she failed to catch the Slaugh tonight, another body would wind up dead in the morning and the trail would go cold until the beast would be sent to hunt again. After all the effort she had put in, Natalie wasn’t willing to let that happen.
Several people caught sight of her floating down the river, the drunk laughing and the sober rushing to their phones to call for help. Natalie supposed that they had saw the Slaugh ahead, perhaps mistaking it as a human corpse. Regardless it wasn’t the first time that working for the Wolaeth had led her to receiving several awkward stare. It was the first time that Natalie knew the Wolaeth to have guessed completely wrong at what they were dealing with though.
When they had sent her to the heart of London to hunt down an unseen menace, they had suspected a lone Phantom, gone mad with bloodlust and killing indiscriminately. Natalie had arrived within the city planning to patrol the streets and catch the killer within the week. Instead she found a convoluted road of clues, including weeks without attacks and connections between all of the victims. Even Scotland Yard had pieced together that it was a single killer, although they were left baffled at how the killer tore his victims to pieces.
A chorus of screams echoed through the air and Natalie noticed that the rippling had stopped in front of her; the Slaugh had climbed onto the bank of the river. Swinging her staff laden arms, Natalie rushed to escape the freezing fingers of the water and give chase. Several people were fleeing down the street, and one was even reaching for a camera phone, as a rush of pale skin darted down a ran down side street.
Clothing sticking tight to her body, water running down the groove of her long nose, Natalie raced after the creature, yelling at people to get out of her way. She sincerely hoped that no one would be stupid enough to follow her, but she was in the middle of London on a Friday night, and she wasn’t prepared to hedge her bets.
Luckily the street the Slaugh had ran into was deserted, not a single body in sight between the rusting cars and the ran down houses sporting boxed up windows. However that also meant that she had lost track of the monster as well, Natalie’s ears straining to catch even the smallest of sounds. There were footsteps and heavy breathing rattling down the street.
The Slaugh was behind her.
Turning quickly Natalie managed to bring around a defence, a loud blast knocking the creature from its feet and sending it spiralling into a lamppost. She knew that she had been tricked by the monster, the Slaugh doubling back on itself to trap her. It was smarter than it looked.
The creature slowly brought itself to full height, the full horror of its face bathed in the golden glow of the street light. There were holes in the skin covering its cheeks, showing the inside of its yellowed tooth filled mouth. Only half of its nose remained and where Natalie expected to see two hideous eyes staring back at her, she only saw a black emptiness. Nine victims had gazed upon the horrifying face of the Slaugh before their death; Natalie had no plans on being the tenth.
Steadying herself and drawing in her power, Natalie jabbed her staff at the Slaugh, a blast of magic flying towards the beast. However it barely flinched as it was struck squarely in the chest, wobbling for a moment before charging forward towards her. Clearly she had only caught it before due to the element of surprise, now it was expecting her attacks. With several more thunderous steps, the Slaugh was upon her, teeth attempting to rip at her throat as both half-fay and monster tumbled to the ground.
Natalie felt something sharp graze across her body, blood spurting from her cheek and arms before she let the magic explode from the oak wood clenched in her hand. She heard a growl and felt a wave of fluids cascade down onto her body, the warmth unsettlingly pleasant upon her cold skin. Kicking out at the beast, she caught sight of a colourless liquid oozing from a wound across the Slaugh’s chest.
Growling the beast snapped back, clammy hands wrapping themselves around her own, nails ripping at her unprotected flesh. Screaming, Natalie felt the staff fall to the ground, clattering against the concrete. Fear and pain racked through her body as the Slaugh once more brought its arms to her neck, desperately trying to break it. She needed to reach her staff; she knew that her kicks and punches were hardly registering to the Slaugh. It didn’t stop her though from reaching at any part of the creature’s body and peppering it with blows.
“Now, now,” a voice said through the air, its tone crisp and confident. “That’s hardly a way to treat a woman, although I doubt your master could have taught you on that subject.”
Natalie swung her head around, avoiding the teeth of the Slaugh, and caught sight of the figure standing across the road from the battle. It was a tall, muscular man, dressed as if he was a lawyer proving a fashion statement. He was clad in a dark green suit, a black tie and boots finishing the look. A glint of silver from his wrist showed off an expensive watch and atop his head was a matching green fedora, the hat covering his face in shadow. His bizarre appearance barely registered though once Natalie caught sight of the gun pointing directly at the Slaugh.
“Run,” she wheezed, hoping that he would listen. Surely this man couldn’t expect to kill the creature with his weapon, the gun being nothing more than a jet black pistol.
Natalie then noticed a second phenomenon, besides the appearance of a man that wasn’t cowering in fear from a beast within the middle of London. The Slaugh had stopped snapping at her neck, its hands now dangling from its side as it surveyed the newcomer with pure hatred. From beneath the creature Natalie could see that its one nostril was flaring, as if it was trying to pick up a scent.
“Come on boy,” the man said, unmoving. “Smell me, I know I’m your next target, come on, attack me.”
The Slaugh attacked before Natalie could react, its legs rippling as it took off across the street, jumping the entire distance to the man. Natalie watched as the man waited a moment further, allowing for the Slaugh’s head to fall level with the barrel of the gun before he pulled the trigger. For a moment Natalie thought the gun had jammed, there was no roar of a bullet escaping from the gun or a spurt of scarlet as it imbedded into the Slaugh’s skull.
Then a flash of blue filled the street, a blue flame pouring out of the barrel of the man’s gun and consuming the Slaugh’s head. The creature gave a wail that chilled Natalie to the bone before it fell to its knees, clawing at its head that was still being bathed in the fire from the man’s gun. Reaching for her fallen staff, Natalie sent her own wave of fire at the creature, a mixture of blue and green splashing into each other as the Slaugh slowly collapsed to the floor.
Natalie kept the fire pouring from her staff until the gurgling from the Slaugh’s throat stopped, the man kept his onslaught up for several seconds more before the creature’s head was free from its fiery prison. The skin that had only partially covered the beast’s head was now gone, leaving only charred bones and muscle.
“Thank you for your assistance, Mademoiselle. I doubt that my attack alone would have killed the wretched beast,” the man said, sliding his gun back into his suit before moving to help Natalie to her feet. “Not too hurt, are you?”
“No,” Natalie grunted, gratefully taking the man’s hand as she rose to her feet. She could still feel the blood seeping from her wounds, but she had endured worst. She would survive. “Who are you?”
“Vincent Spencer,” the man said, tipping his fedora as he spoke his name.
Natalie couldn’t stop the little gasp that escaped her mouth as she caught sight of the man’s face. Besides the almost dazzlingly smile and equally blinding red hair, upon the right side of his head there was simply a hole where Vincent’s right ear should have been.
“Vinny 'the Gogh' Spencer?” Natalie questioned, still holding onto Vincent hand. She had heard stories of a half-fay that had rejected the Wolaeth and its purpose and had instead become the most feared and respected crime lord in the whole of London.
“I’m surprised you know of me, surely my influence does not stretch to... the Mediterranean, if I’m correct?” Vinny said, his eyebrow quirked in curiosity.
“How?” Natalie gasped, her voice betraying the shock that she felt. She quickly searched the shadows of the road, expecting to find someone watching her from a distance.
“Please, you have only been tailed while you were in London, not before hand, Miss. Williams,” Vinny laughed, taking back his hand. “But from your slightly too short jeans, I see a pair of naturally, and very lovely, tanned legs. Legs that couldn’t have been tanned within the dreary month of April in England. And yet you were close enough for the Wolaeth to have you deal with this small problem in London. Add on the fact of a troublesome shapeshifter in the Vatican and your previous location is hardly a mystery.”
“I... I was only in the Vatican on the job, I’ve lived in London most of my life,” Natalie spluttered, questions still swimming inside her head, several desperately trying to grab her attention. She didn’t usually lose her composure, but then again she didn’t usually meet half-fay criminals either. “The Slaugh? It was after you tonight?”
“Indeed,” Vinny answered, his eyes flickering to the beast in a mild curiosity. “I’m afraid I might not be the only magical being now running London’s most wanted. It seems that the Slaugh was taking out all of a particular individual’s enemies, including myself. But tell the Wolaeth not to worry; I’ll see to this magical problem myself.”
Natalie didn’t miss the fire that seemed to flicker across his eyes as he spoke, or the way his hand darted back into his jacket, undoubtedly gripping the pistol within his jacket. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do with Vincent Spencer standing in front of her. The half-fay had forsaken the Wolaeth and had used his magic for his own personal gain, but he was also regarded as a modern day Robin Hood, pitting the thieves of the city against each other instead of the innocent Londoners. In fact Natalie had once remembered hearing that the police refused to arrest ‘the Gogh’ because he was too much of a help. And also, he did just save her skin.
“The gun?” Natalie said, deciding upon another question in her mind.
“Oh quite ingenious, isn’t it?” Vinny said, smiling once more. “You see, being taken seriously as a crime lord with my old wand would have been a difficult task. But a gun? That looks like a far more suitable weapon for ‘the Gogh’, doesn’t it? Now, if you don’t mind, can we burn this foul body and leave? I don’t want the police to have to go through the whole effort of pretending to arrest me. Once we’re gone, you can question me all you like and decide upon your course of action regarding Vinny the Betrayer.”
“We?”
“Well, I was rather hoping we could leave together so that I can have a closer inspection of your legs,” Vinny said, turning on the spot. “To better understand your trip to the Vatican, naturally.”
“In your dreams,” Natalie scoffed, biting her lips as she thought about the possibility of following the crime lord.
“Quite possibly, although if you want to at least act like you’re going to spurn my advances, try not to chew on your bottom lip.”
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Post by James on Apr 9, 2010 4:08:16 GMT -5
Just a story I wanted to write to get away from rewriting Chapter Six, cause rewriting sucks.
Basically these two characters become supporting characters in the second half of Phantoms, and they know of each other. I wanted to write down how they met and play with the characters themselves, see how their concepts worked.
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Post by J.O.N ((Dragonwing)) on Apr 9, 2010 8:53:29 GMT -5
Heh, if you don't get around to finishing Phantoms I'm going to catch a plane to NZ and hunt you down.
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Post by James on Apr 9, 2010 17:25:24 GMT -5
Heh, if you don't get around to finishing Phantoms I'm going to catch a plane to NZ and hunt you down. Many people have said this. If I decide not to finish it (which, I can't see me doing), then I will have to go into hiding. |
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Apr 9, 2010 18:35:25 GMT -5
“Jesus Christ,” she gasped, the cold knocking the breath out of her < Not sure why but I didn't like the use of "Jesus Christ" ... It just seemed so out of place? Unless the girl is Christian? Especially after her using "Fuck" so much.
Natalie supposed that they had saw the Slaugh ahead, < "saw" -- "seen" ?
not a single body in sight between the rusting cars and the ran down houses < "ran" -- "run" ?
the warmth unsettlingly pleasant upon her cold skin. < ew! Creepy!
(For some reason my spell-check on FF highlights "unsettlingly" ... ?)
I think you missed a few comma's? But you know how I am with punctuation - so I could very well be wrong.
On the whole though, pretty enjoyable. I like the new character and the meeting. The gun was genius! The descriptions were spot on, again. I didn't feel much of her panic when the Slaugh got the "upper-hand" in the fight. That bit was perhaps a little lacking? Unless of course she wasn't panicking and had a plan all along but it did miss some emotion.
Glad you are back and writing again!
(ps. loved the ending :] )
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Post by James on Apr 9, 2010 19:40:58 GMT -5
I reckon there could be a bit more emotion during the fight, but I also didn't want Natalie to appear to completely break down in fear. I see her as being as tough as nails.
Cheers for the review, Reffy.
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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Apr 9, 2010 19:55:21 GMT -5
I reckon there could be a bit more emotion during the fight, but I also didn't want Natalie to appear to completely break down in fear. I see her as being as tough as nails. Cheers for the review, Reffy. No problem  I figured she was a tough as nails chick, so maybe just one line about her swearing again and a little worry? I did get the "tough as nails" feeling from her though, so its not bad! Either way, I enjoyed it! |
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Post by J.O.N ((Dragonwing)) on Apr 11, 2010 2:58:26 GMT -5
Wait did she just survive jumping in to the Thames?
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Post by James on Apr 11, 2010 17:08:44 GMT -5
Wait did she just survive jumping in to the Thames? Sherlock Holmes can do it too... |
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Post by J.O.N ((Dragonwing)) on Apr 11, 2010 23:26:52 GMT -5
Wait did she just survive jumping in to the Thames? Sherlock Holmes can do it too... Oh I see, it's like this huh? Well carry on. *Whip crack* Write! |
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Post by Meleta/Isoldaa on Apr 27, 2010 23:31:25 GMT -5
(( Loved the action in the story, and loved the characters too - even the strangely-dressed Vinny.
I don't so much have a problem with Natalie saying, "Jesus Christ!" as an expletive with her [likely] not being a Christian, so much as being half-fae? I suppose I would've imagined she would say something entirely different - though of course, I wouldn't know a thing her childhood/background from this particular passage.
There was some awkwardness in the phrasing of certain sentences, and I was really wondering at the tenses of certain verbs ( "... had ran... " ? *headtilt* ) that detracted some from the overall ease of reading.
Still, there were very nice details - like the gawkers trying to take pictures with their cell phone cameras? XD Good stuff! Details like that really helped anyone just "dropping in out of the sky" into your story to be able to put it in context not only in place, but in time as well. ))
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Post by Janaril on May 2, 2010 13:16:27 GMT -5
(( Overall, I like this piece, a lot. It's not really easy jumping into a story in progress, which is what this seems to be, especially one where magic/fantasy is concerned. There is a lot for the reader to take in, from unfamiliar names to just who or what the characters are, but it all works well in this piece. You keep a good, even pace throughout the piece, explaining some of the more important details (the Slaugh, for example) exactly when it's needed. I'm curious about the 'Organization' Natalie works for, and describing both her and Vinny as 'half-fay' seemed a little out-of-the-blue, but since this seems only the beginning piece of a longer story, I would expect more to be explained later on On another note: it was mentioned before, but Natalie swearing "Jesus Christ" seemed just a bit out of place. After her repeating "Fuck" a few times in a row, it just wasn't what I was expecting her to say after jumping into the Thames. Some of the events/dialogue seemed a bit cliche, mostly around Vinny, but since he seems to be one for the theatrics, it fits him well. In the end, this is a really nice piece. I was reminded of the Bartimaeus trilogy for some reason while reading it -maybe because they're both set mostly in london- and like those books, it's well-written and quite interesting, I'd love to read more. )) |
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Post by James on Jul 30, 2010 22:39:24 GMT -5
New Vinny story being written at the moment, just to get back into Phantom style as I prepare for the rewrites to end and the actual writing to begin. Vinny has evolved during the outline stage, so he's a little different, still a renegade half-fay though. There'll be no Natalie though this time, just DCI Thomas Collingwood and a case concerning forty nine murders.
Yes, forty nine.
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Post by James on Sept 6, 2010 2:34:55 GMT -5
Lawrence Addison Claire eased swiftly through the broken fence, her wand drawn, dancing in every direction. The moonlight skipped in front of her, occasionally its source slipping behind a cloud and plunging her into darkness. There were no streetlamps in sight, and even if they existed they would not work, the factory compound recently closed down. Another casualty of Thatcher’s Britain, and Claire was sure it wouldn’t be the last.
Her thoughts couldn’t concentrate long on the politics that she loathed, her mind still struggling to believe how quickly chaos had wrapped itself around her. Only yesterday evening did Rachel and she arrive in Blackpool, sent by the Wolaeth to investigate several suspicious murders of school children. It had taken only a day for them to confirm a magical element, Rachel to be kidnapped and Claire forced to rush blindly into a trap to save her.
The words that she found upon the seventh child’s body kept on reappearing in front of her eyes, the message seared into her head. She had until dawn to find Rachel within the old car factories of Blackpool or her sister would be executed. It was obviously a trap, a way to drag her straight into the hands of the monsters responsible for the murders. She had no choice though; if she left Rachel to find help then she had no doubt that her sister would be killed as soon as the first rays of light appeared in the sky.
Alaric would advise caution. Claire already able to see a nugget of wisdom, about two deaths being more tragic than one, escaping from between his Elven lips. Alaric knew nothing of friendship though, nothing of love, he was a faerie and ignorant of human emotions. He didn’t possess the humanity that she did, the humanity that would save Rachel’s life, Claire thought defiantly, her small form moving as quickly as her legs allowed through the compound.
“Oi! Where you going, lady?” cried a voice, a boy jumping out at her. He couldn’t have been older than fifteen, his face still growing to catch up with his nose, his hair short and clean. The boy’s lanky form was covered in cleaned and ironed expensive clothes. “This is private property, this is.”
“I… sorry, I didn’t know,” Claire wheezed, taken aback by the boy’s appearance. The factory and the surrounding buildings had looked so abandoned from behind the fence.
“Hey, what’s that?” the boy quizzed, catching sight of the wand clasped within her hand.
“Nothing, nothing,” Claire said quickly, hiding it behind her back, still pointing into the darkness. Her thoughts were struggling to catch up with her body, her mind sluggish from a lack of oxygen. She needed to slip away from the boy and continue her chase. However, she had no idea where Rachel and their murderer would be and the boy was her best hope. “What’s your name?”
“Lawrence,” the boy answered slowly.
“Well, Lawrence, I need you to do something really important for me. I’m an undercover police officer and I’m chasing a possible suspect through here, have you seen anything? They would have had a woman with them too, would look a lot like me.”
Claire watched as the boy ran his eyes over her, taking in her youthful appearance. Her brunette hair was viciously short, unable to whip her face when on a chase, her smooth face completely open to the elements. If the situation had allowed it, she would have rolled her eyes as she noticed Lawrence’s eyes linger upon her chest before moving down her small skinny body. Despite probably being at least ten years older than the boy, she was still dwarfed by him.
“Well?” she snapped with urgency in her voice.
“I think so,” Lawrence said. “Not too long ago an old man came along with a girl by her arm; she looked a bit like you. She’s your sister or something?”
“It doesn’t matter, what I need you to tell me is where they went? Did you see which building they entered?” Claire said, dodging pass the question.
“Yeah, I saw, here I’ll take you to it,” the boy answered, breaking out into a run towards one of the larger buildings.
Claire considered calling him back, unwilling to put the boy into any danger, but then the thought vanished, knowing that she didn’t have the time to be confused by any directions. Raising her wand back in front of her, Claire took off swiftly after Lawrence, her feet barely making a noise against the concrete ground.
Lawrence appeared to be confident of where the old man was heading too, cutting through several alleys between buildings as he raced towards one in the middle. As she followed, Claire tried to gather her thoughts, plucking them for any memories of a dangerous Phantom who appeared as an old man. She couldn’t think of any; Phantoms tended not to survive till old age.
“Here,” the boy said coming to a halt, gesturing at a side door to the centre factory. Beside it laid a snapped metal chain, a padlock dangling precariously from it. Claire knew immediately that the boy was right; someone had recently broken into the building.
“Okay, listen carefully,” Claire said, turning to the boy beside her. “Stay out here, alright? I don’t know how dangerous this man is, so don’t follow me in under any condition, okay?”
Lawrence nodded, slowly backing away from the door appearing somewhat frightened by the turn of events. Satisfied that he wouldn’t follow her, Claire carefully nudged open the door and stepped into the centre of the building, her eyes running over every nook and cranny of the factory floor. She knew something was wrong in an instance. The factory was bathed in light, a globe of it suspended in the air and the room was completely empty, not a human figure or piece of machinery in sight except from a smooth polished walking stick right next to her.
“Lawr…” Claire began before she was blasted into the air, her entire body whizzing across the factory. A second blast of magic struck her hand, a sharp pain shooting up her arm as her wand flew into the distance, Claire unable to keep it within her grasp. She watched her weapon bounce and skid across the factory floor before she smashed into the concrete herself, at least one bone breaking in the impact.
“So, so, so easy,” Lawrence said from across the room, his voice now deeper, a menacing tone driving it across the factory floor. “Maybe even easier than Rachel was, and here I was hoping that servants of the Wolaeth would offer more of a fight than my dear old school chums.”
Claire winced in pain, her body aching as she rolled over to face Lawrence, the boy keeping his eyes locked on her as he picked up the walking stick in his left hand, a switch blade clutched outstretched in his right. None of this made any sense, she thought, her eyes fluttering as her head spun. The boy was too young to be a Phantom, too young to have become a serial killer.
“Clever, isn’t it?” Lawrence said, catching Claire’s eyes locked onto the switch blade. “And this walking stick is a conductor as well; Tywlk thought it should be best if his little protégée had two forms of defence.”
“Tywlk?” gasped Claire, her mind unable to form a plan, too preoccupied at measuring her internal injuries.
“Oh yes, I forgot how little the Wolaeth knows,” Lawrence grinned, smugly. Whereas the lanky boy in shirts and trousers made almost a comical sight in the darkness of the compound, within the building he now struck an intimidating, imposing figure. “I had to explain it all to Rachel several hours ago too, would you mind if I skip some of the details?”
“Rachel? Is… is she… alright?”
“Yes, her condition has improved considerably, she’s stopped with that obnoxious screaming now,” Lawrence answered, a dangerous glint appearing in his blue eyes. Claire knew what Lawrence meant with his answer, and she found that the news broke her as much as Lawrence’s attack had done.
“W… why?”
“Why? Why? Why, what?” Lawrence said, moving forward to close the ground between them. “Why did I kill her? For the same reason I’ll kill you soon enough. That you’re a servant of the Wolaeth and therefore my enemy, that with every one of you I kill, I gain a little more favour with Tywlk until I am the only one he trusts in his new Phantom Order. And also, I just didn’t find her attractive enough to keep her,” Lawrence answered, pausing for a second, seemingly puzzled at his own thinking. “Not that I find many things attractive anymore.”
Claire struggled to listen, growing more and more alarmed at what she heard. Lawrence was clearly unstable and armed with magic, but the continuing mention of the name Tywlk made her more uncomfortable. Whoever he was, he was trying to establish organisation to the Phantoms. If he succeeded they would become more dangerous than ever before. Someone had to warn the Wolaeth of the new threat, she had to escape.
“Or maybe you’re talking about the murders of my schoolmates that led you to investigate here?” Lawrence continued, halting just several steps short from Claire. “I just didn’t like them. Loud, rude and so stupid, they didn’t deserve to live; if anything I’ve done humanity a favour, although I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone that. And they served a use in the end, didn’t they? I got to test my strength against a couple of half-fays, pit our wits against each other, it’s been fun.”
“It…It’s not… a game,” Claire whizzed.
“Oh, its war, isn’t it?” Lawrence snapped, the first hint of annoyance sliding across his face. “That’s what Tywlk believes, him and his followers, even my dear younger brother. I’m sure you lot believe the rubbish too, that somehow this is a war against two sides, desperate to set humanity’s course. One group protectors while the other group are destroyers. That’s what you believe, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Claire nodded, eager to keep him talking, giving her more time to gather her strength.
“You’re wrong,” Lawrence said, his voice growing louder. “It’s not war, it’s never been war! It’s a competition; it’s nothing more than a game! Whoever kills the most of this disgusting foul-smelling mob known as humanity wins! And you know what? I intend to beat you all.”
Claire couldn’t wait any longer, letting the magic that she had gathered from within explode from her fingertips. It acted erratically, her body unable to handle the magic without the use of her wand, the force of her attack tearing through her body as if it was paper, but she refused to give up as she screamed in pain.
Lawrence however was waiting, his walking stick moving between himself and Claire, gathering up the force of her magic before sending it spiralling back at her in the form of molten hot fire. She had no strength left to defend herself, unable to stop the flames that licked at her skin, burning her from only an inch away from death.
“Oh ho, that was brave,” Lawrence said, moving towards her swiftly, the switch blade twirling dangerously between his fingers. “And stupid. Enough talk, let’s have some fun now before you die.”
((He's older by the time of the book, obviously. But yes, this is the dangerous Phantom that has replaced Tywlk as the most obvious antagonist of the book.)) |
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I figured she was a tough as nails chick, so maybe just one line about her swearing again and a little worry? I did get the "tough as nails" feeling from her though, so its not bad! Either way, I enjoyed it!
