The Gunslingers #6: Annie and The Grace
The needle dips into my arm and a steady stream of blood draws into the small tube. Im used to this sight, my whole life people have been taking samples. “You’re the key” they’d say, “You’re important, Annie.” But I never believed them.
“That should be enough.” The large man with the eye-patch says to the man taking my blood. The smaller man with the needle pushes his glasses back nervously and stumbles through a sentence, “Yes, General Omen.”
“Take the sample to the Holy Chamber, I will use it later.” The small man scurries off, a wave of relief washing over his face. “Now, Miss Scott, are you ready to face The Holy Father?” His voice sounds wise, with a hint of malice in it. He’s jealous of me, for whatever reason.
“I don’t care who this Holy Father is that you speak of, I won’t go.” I spit though the bars and it lands on his good eye. Good, shows him. He wipes it off and looks down at me, through me.
“You’re lucky we need more of your blood, Annie,” in one lightning fast motion, he grabs the large blade from his back and thrusts it through the bars in front of me. It’s hilt is made of what looks like solid gold with a long, shinning white blade. The light reflects off of it, making it almost blinding. “Very lucky.” He pulls the blade back out through the bars and returns it to the bindings on his back that hold it in place.
“You have no idea what to do with my blood, I’ve known hundreds of scientist who’ve failed to find any use from my blood, even my own father…”
“We are not scientists, Miss Scott.” The General says, “We are men and women of faith. The Holy Father believes that you are blessed, that you have The Grace in you. I do not think this, but he is much greater and far wiser than me. If your blood is sacred, and you are imbued with The Grace, he will be able to tell.”
“And what if it isn’t, General?” I say, mocking his tone, “What happens if I’m just a regular, non-graceful person, like yourself?”
The General lets out a loud, evil-sounding laugh. “What makes you think I am not Imbued?” He holds up his hand, the skin dark and scarred. He clenches it into a fist and there’s a large flash of light from his hidden palm. “I am more powerful than you could ever wish to be.” He opens his palm and there is a small, white ball floating there, tiny trails of light floating from it. “And if you are not Imbued, Annie, then we shall sacrifice you to The Holy Father and watch as The Grace thanks him for your death, heathen.”
He turns and walks away as I sit there, motionless, praying that I have whatever it is that they’re looking for. Jace, where are you?
I wake up and wonder how long I was out. I don’t even remember falling asleep, maybe they injected me with something. The three white walls around me look to bright for a jail cell, whoever designed this place probably built office buildings or something. I reach forward and rest my hand on one of the cold steel bars. No shock, or extreme heat, just regular bars. I wonder how hard it would be to break one when I notice General Omen sitting across the room. His good eye sees my movement and a small smile curls across his face. He stands up from the small white chair with a banging sound as his gun clatters against the white table beside him.
“If you have that big gun with the blade on it,” I point at the sawed-off shotgun with the long blade reaching from the muzzle to the handle. “Why do you need a long sword?” He smiles, as if talking about his sword is his favourite pastime. He slowly draws the sword and rests it’s hilt on one hand and tip on the opposite hand.
“Names after Virtus, the Roman god of bravery and strength, this blade was handed down to me from my father and his father before him. This blade has seen more bloodshed than any other weapon in existence,” the blade seemed to glow, shinning mystically, “My father, who introduced me to this order,” he looks around the room with his eye, implying the building we are in, “blessed this blade in the Fountain of Light, where all initiates go to become one with The Grace. He gave it this power, because he knew that I would be the only member of our lineage that could wield it.”
“Wont your son need to wield it when you die?” I ask, genuinely interested.
“I have no son, and will not bare one.” The light from the blade dies down and he returns it to its place on his back. “I am the last of our lineage, as was decided a century ago when I was conceived.”
“You’re a hundred years old?!” I shout, not realising how loud I was getting.
“The Grace works in mysterious ways, Miss Scott, remember that. Someday you will truly know just how powerful it is, but that day is not today.” He pulls out a small needle and motions with his free hand that I lean against the bars. I decided that I should just go with it, this is all starting to seem less temporary, no reason to fight it.
“Why do you need more blood?”
“The Holy Father wishes to have more of your blood, he plans to use it with The Fountain of Light in hopes to create a solution that will cleanse the world.” I wonder if he ever says normal things. “Your blood could save the world, Annie.”
“Save the world from what?”
Omen opens his mouth so speak, but is interrupted by a massive bang that sounds like an explosion from a movie. The room fills will a red light and a siren that I can’t see begins to wail. “Red Alert: Breach in main wall. All hands to main wall.” A voice says flatly over some sort of intercom system.
“What’s happened?” The General says while pushing something into his ear. “The Condemened cannot set explosives, initiate, this was not done by the walking dead. The Infidels have breached our sacred walls.”
A spark of hope ignites inside me. Hurry, Jace, please find me!
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