Damian FINUCANE's Arc

Chapter 19 of 57

Parker moved fast now. Damian pressed after him, cane low, the crowd thick between them. Rolo kept close at his shoulder, quick and quiet. The ginger head bobbed ahead, then slipped behind a cart. Damian's chest tightened. If he lost Parker here, the man would vanish for good. There would be no duel. No answer for his father. He would have to start the hunt from nothing. "Don't stare at him," Rolo said. "Watch the gaps. He'll cut through one." Damian obeyed. He stopped chasing the head and watched the spaces between people. A stall on the left. A doorway on the right. Parker angled toward the doorway, then faked and swung left. Damian saw the trick before it finished. He shifted left too, staying wide, not behind. Parker glanced back. His eyes swept the crowd and found nothing familiar. Damian had dropped from the line behind him. The killer's shoulders eased. He slowed, thinking he was clear. That was the mistake. Parker turned into a narrow gap between two shops, sure no one followed. Damian was already there, coming from the side. He stepped into the mouth of the gap and blocked it with his body. Parker stopped. For a moment neither moved. The envelope sat tucked at his side. His hand drifted toward his coat. "I know your name," Damian said. "Tom Clarke Parker." The humming stopped. Parker's round face went flat. He studied Damian, then the cane, then the shape of the sword hidden under the long coat. Recognition crossed his eyes. "The temple boy," Parker said. His voice was calm, almost bored. "You held your temper once. You won't again." "Draw here and the whole street sees," Damian said. "Guards, watchmen, all of it. You'd never reach your tower." Parker weighed this. He was careful. He did not like odds he could not read. Behind him, Rolo slid into the far end of the gap, cutting off his retreat. Parker heard her step and understood. He was boxed. "So," Parker said. "You want it clean. A meeting." "A duel," Damian said. "You and me. Blades. No smoke, no crowd. You owe me a father." Parker's mouth curled. He glanced at the busy street, then back. He knew he could not fight two in this crowded gap. He knew Damian would not stop hunting. A killer like him hated loose ends more than he hated risk. "Fine," Parker said. "Dawn. The old grove where we first danced. Bring your pretty sword." He named the place slow, watching Damian's face for fear. Damian gave him none. "Dawn," Damian said. Parker stepped back, turned, and walked out the far end, past Rolo, into the light. He did not run now. He had a time and a place, and so did Damian. Rolo came to Damian's side. "He agreed too fast," she said. "He's planning something." "I know," Damian said. He did not lower the cane until Parker was gone.