Damian FINUCANE's Arc

Chapter 20 of 57

Damian reached the grove before dawn. Gray light hung between the trees. Parker stood in the clearing, already waiting, sword drawn. He hummed low, a slow jazz tune. No smoke this time. No crowd. Just the two of them and the wet grass. Damian drew the gemmed blade and let the humming wash over him without moving him. They circled. Parker cut high. Damian read it and stepped wide. Parker cut low. Damian turned it aside. The step inside came next, just as Rolo had shown him. Damian was ready. Their blades met and slid apart. Neither man drew blood. The fight ran long. The sky lightened at the edges. Parker was fast and clean, but he could not break Damian's calm. Sweat soaked them both. Damian's arms burned. Still he held his form. Parker's breath grew ragged. His careful patience began to crack. Then Damian's boot slipped on a wet root. He went down to one knee. His guard dropped. Parker saw the gap. He raised his sword over Damian's neck. The humming stopped. This was the moment he had wanted all night. Damian looked up. He did not raise his blade. He knew he could not block in time. He waited for the cut. Parker held. The sword hung over Damian's neck. His blue eyes moved across Damian's face. Something in him wavered. His hand shook. Then he stepped back and lowered the sword. "You'd let me kill you," Parker said. "You don't even flinch." Damian rose slowly. "Do it, then." Parker did not. He lowered his blade further. His round face had gone pale. "I killed your father because a man paid me to," he said. "That's all it ever is. A man pays. I hum my song. I go home." He looked at his own hands. "You hunted me across the whole east road for that. Nobody ever hunted me." Damian kept his sword ready. "Then tell me who paid." "The tower," Parker said. "You already found the juice shop. You know the drop." He wiped his mouth. "But you don't know the man at the top. Neither do I. I only take the envelopes." He backed toward the trees. "I'm done, temple boy. I won't fight you again. Kill me now or let me go." Damian's grip tightened. His father's face rose in his mind. His mother's scar. One clean cut and it would end. But the man before him had already dropped his sword. Killing him now would be murder, not justice. His teacher's voice held him back. "Go," Damian said. "But the man in the tower is mine." Parker nodded once. He turned and walked into the trees. This time he did not hum. Damian stood alone in the wet grass, alive, his blade clean. The killer was finished. The true enemy still waited in the glass tower, and now nothing stood between them.