Page 94 of Chasing Eternity
“Drop the fucking dagger, Natasha,” Arthur barks, losing his cool. “Or else…” I watch in horror as he presses the sharp edge of his blade to young Braxton’s throat. “Or else this little boy will never live long enough for you two to meet.”
“Jesus, Arthur,” Killian manages to say. “Take it easy—he’s just a kid!”
If Arthur heard him, he shows no sign of it. He’s a man on a mission, with a single, unwavering purpose.
I look to Braxton’s father, leaving it to him to decide.
When he responds to the question in my eyes with a slight nod of his head, I turn to Arthur and say, “Please. Stop. Just…stop. It’s enough already. How many lives must be forfeited for this nonsense?”
“Nonsense?” Enraged, Arthur presses the blade closer to young Braxton’s neck. “You think my life’s pursuit toward a better world for all of humanity isnonsense?Clearly, I’ve overestimated you.”
A small trickle of blood appears on young Braxton’s neck. Whimpering, he continues his struggle against Arthur, his gaze never once leaving his dad.
Only a madman would use a child as a bargaining chip. And there’s no negotiating with someone who resides in a place so far beyond reason.
“Okay,” I say, carefully placing the dagger on the ground near my feet. “I’m doing it, I’ve done it. See? I’m unarmed. Just—leave the boy alone, please.”
“You take me for a fool?” Arthur scowls. “Kick it to where you can’t reach it.”
Without hesitation, I do as he asks.
“Now,” he commands, “kindly hand over the Star.”
“I don’t have it,” I say, but we both know it’s a lie.
Arthur practically growls. “Make no mistake,” he says, “I won’t hesitate to end this boy’s life. He means nothing to me. The instant you set foot in Gray Wolf, Braxton became irrelevant, superfluous. The only reason I kept him around was to placate you, to ease your transition and help you come to terms with what was always destined to occur.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?” I ask. “What exactly is it that’s destined to occur?” I keep my gaze leveled on him, less interested in hearing the answer than in keeping him talking for as long as possible.
Mainly because I have no way of knowing if Braxton has managed to switch out the genuine Antikythera Mechanism with the fake that I gave him. And if Arthur should make good on his threat, and kill the nine-year-old version of him, then the adult Braxton will cease to exist, and all of this will have been for nothing.
“I was always going to win this game,” Arthur says. “I thought you were clever enough to realize that. What fun I had watching you select your rewards. The pieces you chose in an effort to send me subliminal messages.” He shakes his head as though greatly amused. “That last piece,Judith Slaying Holofernes,was a particular favorite. I enjoyed a good laugh about that one after you left.”
“Glad I was able to keep you entertained,” I say, keeping a close watch on young Braxton, his father, and Killian, making sure everyone remains in place, that no one decides to make any rash moves.
“Sadly, Natasha, despite what you think, you are no Judith,” Arthur informs me. “And from what I can see, you’re all on your own, no maidservant to help you. Just a frightened little boy, a man not long for this life, and…” He spares a look at Killian. “Well, I think we all know where Killian’s loyalties lie.”
In a move I didn’t anticipate, from the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Braxton’s father suddenly rousing himself, making a desperate dash toward Arthur.
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Arms outstretched, blood gushing from his neck, Braxton’s father hurls himself at Arthur’s back.
Yet before he can close the gap, Arthur swings around as though expecting the attack and aims his dagger with deadly intent.
I watch in horror as the blade traces a chilling path through the air, finding its mark in the main artery of Braxton’s father’s neck.
His legs buckle, and he collapses to the ground in a heavy, heart-wrenching fall, as Braxton’s scream pierces the air, a harrowing cry that will haunt me forever.
“Okay,” Arthur says, dismissing the life he just ended with a casual shrug. “Now there’s officially no one left to help you. And don’t fool yourself into thinking you can convince Killian. Thanks to you, he’s not long for this world.”
I glance at Killian; his normally sun-tanned face is rapidly turning the color of death.
“If he doesn’t bleed out,” Arthur continues, “then he runs the risk of crossing his own timeline. Either way, the odds are not in his favor.”
I look to Killian who, with a slight nod, confirms that it’s true.
“My God.” I whirl on Arthur. “You’re even worse than I thought. You don’t care about any of us. We’re all just disposable to you. Props you use to get what you want.”