Violin Violence
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Chapter XI: Violin Violence

There must have been a snow that night, which was unusual for March, even in Chicago. Most of the snow had melted, leaving the earth of the park slightly damp, but in the shadowed corners under the kids’ playground and up against the edges of the little concrete pathways you could still see the slushy, half-melted remnants of nighttime snow. 

“Hey, Marcus, watch out!” Her voice snapped me out of my weather-related thoughts, just in time to see the frisbee flying directly towards my head. My hands shot up, half to catch it and half to protect my fragile face, and ended up mostly accomplishing their goal. I half-caught it, only for it to escape from my grip and clatter to the ground. My brain hadn’t quite caught up to how quickly my limbs had been growing. Abby said that was normal for fourteen year olds. 

“Are you okay there, Marcus?” she said, laughing. “Lost focus?”

I nodded, heat of embarrassment rising up in my face. Sometimes it felt like I lost focus more than I had it. But then, why was I terrified?

“You didn’t take your meds this morning, did you?”

“No,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I picked up the frisbee and tossed it back at her. 

“It’s fine, Marcus,” she said, catching it effortlessly. “You aren’t supposed to take that stuff every day, anyway.”

Abby’s reassurance was all I needed. She was the best big sister a boy… a kid could have. She was tall, taller than me even though she was two inches shorter, with hair the same jet-black color as mine, except long enough to keep it in a ponytail while I liked to keep it short. Unlike me, she actually exercised regularly from being on an amateur tennis team. Her eyes were so… happy, sparkling blue like Lake Michigan in summer, and she smiled a lot, even at my dumbest jokes.

Abby tossed the frisbee back at me, a few yards to my right. I sprang to catch it, which was a serious mistake. The melted snow had made the ground wet, and I slipped. I slipped right onto the sharpened tip of the sword jutting out of the ground, sending the blade right through me. Lucky for me, it hit in the lower stomach, below my navel, where the only important parts had been missing for a very long time. It stung, but no more than that. 

“Marcus! Are you okay?” Abby dashed over to where I’d fallen, dropping into a crouch next to me. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I said, pulling myself off of the sword-point. “Just scraped myself a little.” The wound healed quickly, closing entirely a couple of seconds later, as did all of the little scrapes and rashes all over my hands and elbows. 

“And here I was,” Abby said, “thinking that tossing a frisbee around was the best way to keep you out of trouble. Mom is going to have a lot of questions.”

“It’ll be fiiiiiine,” I said, pulling myself up on my sister’s shoulder. “Do you hear violin music?”

“No,” she snapped. 

I shook my head. Must have been hearing things. “Oh that reminds me, sis: do you know when Dad’s getting home?”

Abby sighed. “No idea. But he promised he’d be there for my game next week, so presumably he’ll be back before then.”

“Are you sure you don’t hear violins? Sorry, I won’t bring it up.” An awkward silence fell between the two of us, while I looked around desperately for something to talk about. We were alone in the park, and the sky was a solid mass of grey clouds. I looked back to Abby; she was wearing a plain peach-colored tank top and sweatpants, and something new on her hand.

“Where’d you get that ring? I didn’t know you liked jewelry.”

“Huh? Oh, this thing?” She casually held up her hand, showing me the ring on her left index finger. It was a thin ring of silvery-white metal, with a tiny square-cut emerald mounted on top, an emerald that glowed and sparkled like a green flare in the light, nearly blinding me. “He got it for me. It’s a symbol of… devotion, and stuff.”

“Oh, nice,” I said, covering my eyes from the glare. “That must be really expensive.”

“Yeah, it—“ Abby froze, looking over my shoulder. She went pale, really pale, pale enough that I could see the blood vessels through her face, and a bit of bile trickled out of her lips as her eyes went glassy and cold. “Marcus, could you stay here for a second? I need to deal with something.”

She stood up, leaving me on the grass, and went to talk to the mass of darkness behind me. It was humanoid, I think, and huge, eight or nine feet tall. Besides the rough shape it had exactly two defining features: the steel handcuffs holding its hands together even though it didn’t have hands, and the awful scar on its face even if it didn’t have a face. 

“What are you doing here?” Abby said to the mass of darkness.

“Just checking in on you,” it said. It had an affable voice, smooth, resonant and devoid of any accent or affect. “Don’t you like seeing me?”

“Not when I’m at the park with my younger brother. I thought we agreed we’d keep these parts separate,” she said, trying to talk too quietly for me to hear and failing. 

I got up, already realizing where this was going to go. Flashes of the future ran through my mind like streaks of rain. The park was suddenly permeated by the sharp, bitter smell of antiseptic. 

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t be here,” said the inky void. “And from what you’ve told me, you do more to take care of this kid than his parents do. You deserve support for that.”

“That’s a really… really generous offer. Even after the ring… But you should really ask about this before just showing up here.”

The void looked over at me, and I knew it was looking directly at me even though it didn’t have any eyes. Darkness poured across the grass, formed into pools and long streams, icy cold water for drowning, and it started to pour upwards across my legs and reach around my arms and it was so, so very dark and red. The violins were everywhere; each new note pressed against the inside of my chest and tried to stop my heart. 

The void pulled Abby into a tight hug, one that she melted into after a short moment of resistance. She giggled, even though her eyes were cold and dead and full of terror. “You’re too much,” she said, laughter on her lips. “What was it you said, love yourself like you love the divine? It’s a shame Marcus can’t see that.”

I tried to scream but my mouth wouldn’t open. The darkness was around me, in me, on me, running through me like black blood as I tried to run closer. Every step took my sister farther from me, as the endless embrace of the void pulled her back. The void, the void that was Him, was turning my bones to stone and my skin to leather.

The void pulled Abby in for a kiss, like something out of a romance movie, tendrils of clawed darkness sinking into her back and pulling her violently into him. Her lips met his, and blood poured from her mouth in thick streams. She was dying from the inside out, he was ripping her apart, and though she pretended to enjoy it I could see the way her hands twitched and jerked in his hold and she was dying with nothing I could do to save her. 

The violins got louder and louder, a frantic and beautiful song of death. I finally broke through and started to scream, my mouth distending open far beyond what it should have been able to do. The darkness pierced me, and I froze, I couldn’t run any longer. As my skin hardened and twisted me beyond the point of breaking, I knew that I was a failure, and all I could do was scream. 

 

 

My eyes opened all at once, as my muscles jerked in a single spasm of fear. The violins were still fading into the distance, and for a few seconds it was all I could manage to remember that it was just the aftermath of a bad nightmare. I remembered I was ten years older, and that he was still rotting in jail, and would be for the rest of his life. A few seconds after that, the memory returned that I was in a completely different universe. Several more seconds before the sensations filtered back in to remind me that I was female. Then another moment of reflection to, with glacial speed, remind myself that I was still a man because genitals do not equal gender. Several seconds passed after that before I came to the conclusion that I probably wasn’t going to fall back asleep with my heart still racing in my chest.

I took up a kerosene lantern from the supplies in our cabin and lit it, throwing a heavy wool cloak over my pajamas before storming out into the night. Being Gothic is a good way to resolve stress. If I was lucky, I would be back before morning. 

The treaty grounds were creepy at night, though that applied to basically everything on Selene given the absence of electric lighting. The only light source around was coming from me, which gave me the distinct feeling of being at a disadvantage. The things in the dark could see me from my light, but not the other way around. Not that anything was moving, or making a sound besides my own feet. Instead, the shadows drifted silently across the slowly-settling wood of the buildings as I passed by them. 

My thoughts were confused, anxious. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about Abby, no matter how hard I tried. Worse, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. The memories of my sister were still clear, even though they’d had a whole decade to fade; the countless hours spent looking at photographs, at daydreaming about when she’d still been around, at feeling endless hours of guilt at my own role in her death, all of that had burned her into my memory. Good. She was the best person I’d ever known. The only thing worse than letting her die would be to let her be forgotten.

The only way I could tear myself away from the aftereffects of that awful nightmare was to force myself to think about actually pressing matters. Like the chargerthing attack. Apparently chargerthings going frenzy was a common occurrence. But if that was the case, why had someone been deliberately cutting open its bonds, and how had such a dangerous creature been brought into the center of the treaty grounds to begin with? I was beginning to think that this might have been some kind of attack, a random act of carnage designed to disrupt the treaty negotiations. But if that were the case, then who could have been responsible? As far as I knew, the people of Bluerose desperately needed this to go well, and the Durkahns had everything to gain from this, unless there was some kind of colonialist angle that nobody had told me about. The only people who might want this whole treaty thing done away with would be the Cassandrans, but they were hundreds of miles away and had no idea this was happening…unless they weren’t, and they did. 

I had no idea whether it was justified paranoia or the product of watching a few too many spy movies, but the idea of a Cassandran spy stuck in my head. Setting loose a dangerous animal definitely struck me as something a spy would do; dangerous enough to be a serious problem, especially if I hadn’t been there, but appearing at first to be totally random happenstance. Of course, I had no evidence whatsoever that there was anything even resembling a Cassandran spy around. Hell, the evidence I had that there was even an intentional element to the attack was somewhat flimsy. 

Still, the thought passed through my head a few times, and I made a few wild stabs at figuring out who the spy might be. The first suspect was Lady Burnardor. After all, she’d been so abrasive during the entirety of the proceedings that it almost looked like she was sabotaging the treaty on purpose anyway…

My attention was drawn out of paranoid ramblings by the sudden appearance of a second light. Though you couldn’t have made me retrace my steps if you put a gun to my head, I had found myself at the edge of the treaty grounds. At my back were the relatively safe wooden structures where the people slept in comfort, and in front of me was the endless fields and hills of the Urcos plateau. And on top of one hill in that endless expanse, just far enough away that I couldn’t make out many details, was a small light, about as bright as my own. 

A series of thoughts flashed through my mind. First was of the mysterious black-clad woman who’d saved my life in the mountain pass. Then a second later I realized that I was being foolish, and this was clearly the camp of the Cassandran spy I’d invented several minutes earlier. Indeed, those two might be one and the same! I extinguished the flame on my lantern, and moved slowly and quietly through the buckwheat fields, careful not to disturb so much as a single blade of grass as I passed. Only through extreme care could I hope to catch the spy unawares, and given that she was likely to be a trained combatant and expert infiltrator, ambush would likely be my only hope to defeating her there and then. 

I crept closer and closer to my quarry, at times moving on my hands and knees to minimize how much of me could be seen. It was only a few minutes before I found myself just below the spy, at the bottom of the hill, though if you were timing it based on my racing heart it would have been hours. I steeled myself for a fight. 

“Emma? What the hell are you doing?”

Or it could be Lady Halflance sitting calmly on the top of the hill. That was another possibility, and apparently the correct one. 

“I thought you might have been a Cassandran spy!” I shouted. “How did you know it was me?”

“Because you’re tiny and nobody else is senseless enough to be out here,” said Halflance. 

“Oh, yeah,” I said with a sigh. “I guess that makes sense… Mind if I come up there with you? It’s really cold and dark down here.”

Before Halflance had even had the time to answer my question, I was climbing up the hill on all fours, like a kid playing on a hillside. I was nearly blinded by the light from Halflance’s lantern when I got there. Once I’d adjusted, I found Halflance in a much more interesting position than I would have expected from someone like her.

She had brought a blanket with her, a really soft and fleecy one from what I could see, and was reclining back on it like one of those cool chairs. Her leg was still in a splint, and there was a wooden crutch lying on the grass next to her. She had a lantern with her, larger than the one I’d brought and slowly burning down by her feet. In her hands was a small book of poetry, specifically the poetry of Leseon. I knew that book well. 

“What are you doing out here?” Halflance asked, turning a page.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said with a shrug. 

“You first.”

“Uhh, nightmares. Bad ones about someone I lost a long time ago.” I averted my eyes, somehow convinced that Lady Halflance would be able to see the whole story if I looked for too long. “I wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep after that, so I did what I normally do when I can’t sleep.”

“I trust you are not covered in blood this time?” Halflance asked.

“Asshole,” I muttered. “You?”

Halflance looked up from the book for the first time since I’d arrived at the hilltop, to slowly and deliberately tap her index finger against the outside of her cast. “Ankle hurts like a bitch, as you would put it. Couldn’t sleep either.”

I looked over at the treaty grounds, and the domed roof of Halflance’s quarters far off in the distance. “So you dragged yourself all the way out here instead?”

“The cold numbs the pain. And the poetry soothes the mind.”

I suddenly realized that Halflance wasn’t wearing any winter clothes. The coat she was wearing might have counted as heavy attire in Amrinval, but it was practically gossamer in Urcos at night.

“Yeah, I can imagine. You’re already in the middle of negotiating a peace treaty between two countries who barely get along, and suddenly a giant murderous chicken attacks. Pretty crazy stuff.”

I moved next to her, and after a few seconds of extremely tense eye contact I was allowed to sit down next to Halflance. While my theory about it being a Cassandran spy was looking more and more absurd with each passing second, I realized that then would be the perfect time to gather some information. 

“What were—“

“Do you still believe—“ 

We had both spoken at the same time, and both awkwardly cut ourselves off once we realized that the other was speaking. “You can go first,” she said.

“No, please, you first,” I said with a nod. “My thing will probably take a while.”

Halflance shrugged. “Very well. Do you still believe that you were transported here from another world?”

“Of course I do,” I said without hesitation. “Just because you’ve said that same lie about the fucking brain fever a hundred thousand times doesn’t mean that I’ve started to believe it.”

“That was not my implication,” said Halflance. “The lie is a useful cover story, but if your memory tells you that some transition of realms has taken place, it is not my part to say you are wrong. Certainly you are far too odd to be a normal citizen of Selene.”

“Transition of realms is a really fancy way of saying I got hit by lightning and woke up on a different planet. At least I didn’t get hit by a truck and wake up with a giant sword and the power to, like, copy other people’s superpowers or something.”

Halflance raised an eyebrow at me. “I… assume that would be somehow worse?”

I waved it aside. “Earth reference, don’t worry about it.”

“Of course,” Halflance said with a sigh. “You had something to ask?”

I took a deep breath, shoving aside the anxiety about what I was about to ask. Halflance had more than enough reasons to hate me already, and that hadn’t stopped me before. “What were you doing at the mess hall when the eleph— chargerthing attacked? It was way after lunch, and too early for dinner…”

“Why do you want to know?” she said, her eyes narrowed. 

“I’ll explain if you tell me what was going on in there,” I said.

Halflance rolled her eyes. “I can’t give you specifics. But we were… negotiating. All of us, Burnardor and the three chanters.”

“In the mess hall?”

Halflance shrugged. “Such things happen. Little conversations, working out of minor details in the overall treaty. We started talking during lunch and stayed there for hours because nobody had the spine to kick us out.”

All of the major delegates were in the same place at the same time, and a giant angry monster happened to break free right there? That seemed unlikely. “So this wasn’t scheduled? Did anyone else know you were there?”

“A few of the cook staff, perhaps?” Halflance said, reticently. “Though… someone might have come in while I was away from the others without my knowing.”

“Why were you away from the others?”

“Zaya and I got into a tangent about religion, several minutes before the bird arrived. We decided to step away for the congenial talk so that the others could focus on their business. We returned to the table but a moment before…the incident.”

I paused to rest my chin on my hand, considering my theory. “And everyone was still there when you got back?”

“Yes,” Halflance said. “Now will you explain why you’re asking so many questions?”

I sighed, speaking softly. “I think that the chargerthing attack was intentional. Someone is trying to disrupt the negotiations.”

“That’s completely absurd,” said Halflance. “How would they have even known to attack us there?”

“I think…” I slipped my hand into my pocket, feeling for the sharp item. “I think it might have been one of the other delegates. Trying to prevent the treaty from being signed, but not wanting it to look deliberate for whatever reason.”

“If they didn’t want the treaty to be signed, why would they be here?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I have evidence.” I took my hand out of my pocket, holding out the item. It shined and glinted in the lantern light. 

Halflance glanced over at my open palm. She glanced away a moment later, as if to dismiss the object entirely, only to look back a second later with a curious glint in her eye. “Fascinating. What is it?”

“I have no idea, but I found it embedded in the chargerthing’s side, partway through one of the leather straps on its back. Someone had been using it to cut the thing free.” I returned the object to its safe spot in my pocket. 

“Well, it’s certainly nothing I’ve ever seen in Bluerose…” said Halflance, brow furrowed in concentration. “And if you aren’t lying about where you found it, that would certainly point towards something. It looked Durkahni; perhaps Dr. Ironseed would know what it is?”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll have to ask her.” I was starting to feel slightly tired again; climbing up a hill in the dead of night would do that to me. 

“I still think you’re wrong, to be very clear. There are countless other explanations that do not have to invoke a traitor at the highest levels,” Halflance said as if delivering a lecture. 

“I know… Anyway, I’ll leave you to your… poetry.” I stood up, wrapping the cloak tightly around myself. Picking up my own lantern, I suddenly remembered that I had extinguished it a few minutes earlier. 

“Do you have something I could use to light this?”

Halflance looked up at me with a glare of disappointment that would put Tommy Lee Jones to shame. Without a word, she handed me a box of matches from somewhere in her jacket. “And you still think you can uncover a secret spy ring working against us?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

I bet you didn't expect that Emma's backstory would start to be important again, did you? Well, maybe it won't be. Either way, she clearly has some issues to work through, including a bad case of paranoia... Either way, that's another chapter, and thank you to everyone who read it, and an extra thank you to anyone who left a favorite, a comment, a review, or anything like that. If you want to see more of Emma's adventures, you can pop over to my Patreon (see the link below), where for only $3 a month, you can unlock four more chapters of Snows of Selene, as well as access to my exclusive Discord server, for people who use that platform. Higher tiers include access to a collection of exclusive short stories, including two prequels to the Selene series, and exclusive voting rights in Patron polls. Otherwise, I'll see you in two weeks for the next chapter: Chapter XII: Questionable.

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