Scarlett Wrappley's Arc

Chapter 7 of 9

Scarlett was still bent over her red batch when the door slammed open. The bolt hadn't held. She spun. On the floor by the bench leg, the marked cockroach glowed brighter, its purple runes pulsing like a heartbeat. It had brought him. She knew it now. Ezekiel Crowe stepped in from the light. The old hunter's white beard hung to his chest, and his pointed ears twitched at every sound. He'd tortured her in his cabin and left her to bleed. Now he grinned at her with yellow teeth. "There you are, little bat." His voice was slow and wet. "My bug never lies." Scarlett backed against her workbench. Her hand closed on a beaker. "Get out." Instead he grabbed the high-backed chair beside him. He lifted it and threw it hard against the floor. Wood cracked. The dark polished frame skidded and stopped near her feet. "I don't chase things twice," he said. He reached under his coat. A shape filled the broken doorway. Garrison. He'd doubled back. His long hair hung wet, his yellow eyes fixed on the hunter's spine. He moved without a sound. "Ezekiel," Garrison said. The hunter turned. He got no farther. Garrison seized him by the collar and one arm and lifted him clean off the floor. Ezekiel kicked and swore. He clawed at Garrison's face. It did nothing. Garrison carried him across the lab like a child carries a doll, arms stiff, feet dangling. "You smelled me at the bar," Garrison said. "You hunted me. You cut her." The acid barrel hissed in the corner. Green fumes curled off its rim. Ezekiel saw it and thrashed harder. "Wait—wait, dog—" Garrison did not wait. He heaved the old man over the lip. Ezekiel dropped into the green with one short scream. The surface bubbled and swallowed him. Then the lab went quiet, except for the hiss. Scarlett stared at the barrel. Her heart pounded. The threat that had chased her for weeks was gone in three seconds. She looked down. The cockroach still glowed on the bench leg. Its master was dead, but its runes burned on, steady and stupid. She lifted her boot and crushed it. The light snapped out under her heel. She scraped the shell away. "It was feeding him my spot," she said. "The whole time." Garrison wiped his hands on his vest. "Not anymore." Scarlett let out a long breath. For the first time in weeks, no one knew where she was. No bug. No hunter. She turned back to her bench and lifted the red batch to the light. It held its color. It hadn't turned. But the barrel changed things.