The Weak

Shannon and Pacifica stood in the middle of the street. The sun shone high in the sky; a gentle breeze drifted between the buildings. On such a beautiful day, the roads should have been bustling with people.

But there was no bustle. In fact, not a single person shared the street with the Casulls. Even the shops that lined the roads had their doors closed and their windows barred.

“So… I guess they’re avoiding us,” Pacifica commented.

Shannon looked around. He could sense the townspeople hidden inside the buildings. He even caught glimpses of a few of them watching him when they thought his eyes were elsewhere. Pacifica was right-—they were definitely being avoided on purpose.

The two siblings looked at each other. “What did you do?” Pacifica accused him.

 

“Me? I was going to ask you the same question.” 

“You’re the one who’s always screwing up!” 

Shannon sighed. “You’re kidding, right?”

The two argued for a few moments, then trailed off into an awkward silence. Someone usually showed up when they argued, either to stop the fight or distract Pacifica enough for her to give up.

In reality, Shannon had a pretty good idea why the townspeople’s attitude toward them had changed. Pacifica probably did, too. They just didn’t want to think about it.

“I doubt we can get any shopping done today,” Shannon said evenly. “We should probably just head home.” He turned back the way they had come.

“What? But…”

“We don’t have a choice. We could drag these people out of their homes and ask them what’s happening, but I have a feeling that would only make matters worse.”

Pacifica raised her eyes to her brother, her forehead creased in worry.

“Um… are you mad, Shannon?”

Shannon let out a breath. “Recently,” he murmured, “I’ve decided not to get angry when it doesn’t do any good. But I haven’t figured out what to do about feeling sad.”

Pacifica kept her eyes on the road. “I know what you mean,” she said softly, then grabbed hold of his sleeve. The two of them walked home in silence.

Winia peeled potatoes in her partially repaired kitchen. She hummed quietly to herself, lost in her thoughts.

She finally knew the true identities of her tenants. At first it had come as an understandable shock—the Scrapped Princess was legendary, a half-believed creature of unspeakable evil. No average country girl expected to be involved in such a tale.

However, once she’d had time to think things over, she realized that she didn’t care who the siblings were or what they ran from. Her feelings for the three of them hadn’t changed. This realization made her… glad, really. And oddly proud.

This time, she thought, I’m not going to run away.

“Winia,” called a shaking voice. Winia looked up.

In the doorway stood her grandmother, Felicia Chester. The old woman’s face was worn with age and illness. She was wrapped in a warm stole to block out the chill, and one hand rested on the doorframe for support.

Winia was surprised to see her grandmother in the kitchen. She rarely had the strength to leave her bed, let alone walk down the hallway.

“Grandma, are you feeling all right? I didn’t expect to see you up and about.” Winia hurried over to help the old woman to her chair.

“Yes, dear, I’m fine. I feel better than usual today.”

Despite her claims, the woman seemed unusually frail to Winia, who had to help her to a chair.

Winia frowned. “Is something wrong, Grandma?” she asked. “You’ve been taking that medicine Doctor Randall brought, right?”

The doctor was a frequent visitor at the inn. Since Winia’s family was too poor to pay for regular doctor visits, they had worked out an arrangement where the doctor would come whenever it was most convenient for him, and in exchange, he only charged the bare minimum of expenses. His visits averaged about once a week.

“I’ve taken it, my dear. But my health isn’t what we need to be concerned with right now.” She gave her granddaughter a piercing look.

The expression worried Winia greatly.

“Those three guests…” the old woman began.

“You mean the Casulls?”

“Yes. You must ask them to leave tomorrow. No, it would be better if they left today.”

Winia stared at her grandmother in shock. “What?” she breathed.

A pebble bounced on the cobblestones.

Shannon and Pacifica looked in the direction from where it came. A shadowy figure stood in an alley, beckoning them over.

When they moved closer, Shannon recognized the figure as Michelle from the bakery. Pacifica recognized her as well, and was about to call to her when Shannon grabbed the girl, covered her mouth, and pulled her into the alley.

“Michelle—” Shannon began, but the girl wouldn’t let him finish.

“—Something really strange is going on.”

“I know,” Shannon replied. “Is there anything you can tell us about it?”

Michelle looked at him incredulously. “You don’t know why this is happening?”

Shannon furrowed his eyebrows. “I can think of too many reasons.”

Michelle sighed. “Basically,” she explained, “people have been spreading rumors about you three. Really nasty things, too—that you’re on the run because you killed a Mauser official and Shannon raped and murdered some girl a few towns over and Raquel and Pacifica helped him cover it up, or that you’re a gang of sibling serial killers looking for your next victims.”

Pacifica’s jaw nearly hit the alley floor. “That’s awful!” she squeaked.

Shannon sent Michelle a measuring glance. “In that case,” he asked slowly, “are you okay with talking to us cold-blooded killers?”

Michelle shrugged. “I wouldn’t, if the rumors weren’t a bunch of lies.”

The confidence in her voice surprised Shannon. He hadn’t been expecting a mere acquaintance to have such faith in him.

“Um… how can you be sure?” he tried.

“Oh, I know a thing or two about people and how these things tend to work, and these rumors are spreading way too fast for ordinary word-of-mouth. And they’re really inconsistent—I mean, how many different crimes could you three have committed? It doesn’t make any sense that a bunch of completely different rumors would come up all at once.” Michelle looked him straight in the eye. “I think someone is spreading these rumors intentionally.”

Shannon sighed. “Yeah, that wouldn’t surprise me.”

Michelle put her hands on her hips. “So?” she asked. “What are you going to do?”

Shannon paused a moment. Then, finally, he rubbed his eyes. “Nothing,” he answered tiredly. “There isn’t anything we can do that’ll make this better. Even if we deny everything, I doubt anyone will believe us.”

He noticed Pacifica look away. But it’s the truth, he thought. Even if it upsets her.

Shannon glanced at Michelle. “Thank you,” he said. “But it’s time we left here, anyway.”

“An information battle?” Chris looked up at his superior curiously.

“Yes. Although due to lack of time, we were only able to execute a crude one.” Luke’s steely gaze took in the town stretched out beneath them. “Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like information about the Scrapped Princess has leaked to the townspeople.”

Chris felt a chill run down his spine. There was in fact one person who knew about Pacifica’s background— the girl from the inn, Winia. Chris hadn’t reported her. He couldn’t explain it properly (even to himself), but letting her go just felt like the right thing to do.

Chris pursed his lips and decided to keep his silence. But the whole experience was unsettling—not only had Shannon defeated him twice in combat, but now Chris was withholding information from his superiors.

“As the rumors spread,” Luke explained, “the townspeople will become convinced that those siblings are killers. Even if someone finds out the truth about the princess, they’ll just think it is an exaggeration and will most likely fall back on the more consistent rumors.” He crossed his arms. “With the people turned against them, it’s likely that the Casull siblings will be driven out of town before too long. It will be much simpler to take care of them on the road, away from witnesses.

“According to our reports,” he went on, “the Casulls have impressive combat skills but lack experience with the psychological toll of battle. Their morale will likely be low if they’re forced to leave town, which will lessen their drive and thus keep casualties on our side to a minimum. We’ve posted personnel on all likely departure routes.”

Chris stared at the man, surprised. He didn’t consider himself a particularly honorable fighter, and in order to fulfill his duty over the years he’d taken hostages, exploited weaknesses, and looked for every tactical advantage. But it would have never occurred to him to go to such great lengths to weaken an enemy.

However, Luke had already said that his main goal was to keep casualties at a minimum, both soldiers and civilians. That alone made moral arguments against his plan seem unjust.

“Well?” Luke didn’t bother turning to Chris. “What are you going to do? Return now and report to your superiors, or stay and see how the mission is carried out?”

Chris took a breath. “I have orders from the baroness to observe the mission to the end,” he said evenly. “Regardless of success or failure.”

“I’m sorry.”

Surprised, Winia looked up. Who’s there? she wondered.

In a horrendous turn of luck, Raquel stood in the doorway. And from the look on her face, she had heard the conversation between Winia and her grandmother.

Winia’s stomach sank. Her grandmother’s words had been hard for her to hear, she couldn’t imagine how painful they were for Raquel. Winia had been hoping that she, at the very least, could have been the one to break the news to the Casulls.

“Raquel…” she began.

Raquel shook her head. “It’s all right,” she assured Winia softly. “As soon as Shannon returns, we’ll leave. I promise we’ll come back with money for the repairs as soon as we can.”

“You don’t have to leave. My grandmother just believed those silly rumors—”

“It’s okay.” Raquel smiled faintly. “Really.”

Winia swallowed hard. She’d heard the rumors that called the Casull siblings murderers and worse, but knowing the three of them as she did, she couldn’t imagine anyone believed the tales. Still, Shannon always carried a sword with him, and it was a well-known fact that Raquel had used attack magic in town—not to mention that Winia had been kidnapped in front of everyone. With so much danger and violence surrounding them, Winia reluctantly realized that rumors were to be expected.

“I’m not surprised that this happened.” Raquel carefully folded her hands in front of her. “We’ll be fine. Just promise me that you’ll make up with your grandmother.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that…” Winia trailed off into silence, unable to continue.

In the end, Winia had refused her grandmother’s wishes, which had been so shocking to the old woman that she hobbled away, her head dropped in despair.

Winia looked to the floor and narrowed her eyes. Anger welled up inside her, pushing aside the depression in her heart.

“Why are people so stupid?” she asked. “They have eyes, and ears, and minds. How could they let this happen?!”

Why don’t people think for themselves?!

Raquel slowly pulled Winia into her arms. “Most people aren’t that strong,” she said softly. “It’s hard to know what to think sometimes. It’s human nature to believe what’s easiest—that’s not really wrong in itself, it’s just the way things are.”

Winia hiccupped. Hot tears welled up in her eyes, and she wiped them away with her sleeve.

“Then I… I want to be strong. I want the strength to believe in people, no matter what happens.”

Raquel smiled sadly. “Strength alone doesn’t solve anything, Winia. Some people don’t see their own mistakes because their strength blinds them. Some people have absolute faith in their beliefs, but use that to hurt others.” Raquel gently stroked Winia’s hair. “I don’t know who’s right or wrong, or even if it really matters. I’m just glad that I met you and the people of this town. That’s enough for me.”

Winia hiccupped again. Her view of the floor blurred as new tears filled her eyes.

“Hey!” A hoarse whisper caught the attention of the five soldiers of Team 6. Their team leader, who had made the sound, gestured at a figure walking down the road toward them.

Team 6 was one of seven Blackhawk units deployed to detain anyone leaving or entering Taurus. Any travelers, whether or not they had anything to do with the Scrapped Princess, were to be held for five days while the mission was carried out. If it could be determined that the townspeople knew too much, the Blackhawks would descend to kill every last civilian.

Of course, precautions had been taken so that the last resort wouldn’t be necessary. Teams 1 and 2 had infiltrated the city to spread rumors about the Scrapped Princess and her siblings and thus drive the three of them out of town.

Although the Blackhawk soldiers generally tried to avoid slaughtering civilians, if they had to, destroying an innocent town was preferable to allowing the world to know that the Scrapped Princess lived. The political instability that would result when the Mauser Church realized that the royal family had spared the princess—as well as neighboring countries’ reactions when they found out that Linevan had allowed the girl who would destroy the world to survive—could be enough to tear the entire country apart.

The soldiers of Team 6 were not about to take risks. They readied their weapons as the figure drew closer.

The man who approached was abnormally large, with a normal-sized head that seemed strangely comical attached to his huge body. His hair was short, and his bland eyes stared forward resolutely.

The soldiers exchanged glances. They recognized the man from their briefing documents.

“Is that… a Purger?’’ one soldier whispered, obviously doubting what he saw.

The documentation had stated that Purgers always operated in teams of four. Not only that, but the Purgers misshapen body was a surprise—the team’s information on Purgers had described them as completely normal men with an unusual similarity. A single, huge Purger returning to the scene of his defeat made their information oddly inaccurate.

The team leader raised his thumb, then pointed it downward—the Blackhawk signal for “handle according to standard procedure.” The soldiers quickly and silently surrounded the Purger on all sides.

A sudden, strange, rasping noise made them pause. They looked around in confusion before focusing back on the Purger. A chill went down the leader’s spine as he realized what the sound was.

Laughter.

Purgers were supposed to have abandoned all traces of humanity to carry out their faith. For one to be laughing made no sense at all, yet the large Purger smiled brightly as his shoulders shook with mirth.

Suddenly, his face twisted.

The soldiers reacted instinctively. Some jumped out of the way, others threw up their weapons to block; all the movements had a swiftness born of intense training. But for those who stood their ground, even their considerable battle experience couldn’t save them.

The Purgers humanoid form abruptly split apart, sending new limbs bursting from his body. The arms were abnormally long and had more than one joint. They shot out of his face, his back, and his knees, shredding his clothes as they reached for the soldiers. In barely a moment, two soldiers were gripped in the monster’s grotesque hands.

The leader had managed to dive out of the way. He threw his gaze up to see that the Purger had sprouted a total of eight arms, likening him to a giant deformed spider. As the leader watched, the last of the Purger’s shirt ripped away and a cheerfully laughing human face popped out from the Purger’s chest.

The monster opened its mouth. The leader expected to hear a terrible roar, but instead the creature spoke in a strangely normal voice.

“Ha ha! This truly is bliss! We always thought we knew true unity, but that was only a pale shadow compared to this new oneness!” The Purger surveyed the soldiers surrounding him.

“Lonely creatures!” he announced. “I will share my joy with you!”

Without another word, the monster dragged one of the soldiers close and sank an arm into his face.

The soldier’s scream was cut off as the Purger’s arm plunged into his flesh. But instead of it resulting in a bloody mess, the arm merged with the soldier’s head, blurring the outlines of Purger and man into each other. The arm holding the soldier then sank into the man’s body.

The soldier started to convulse. His body melted out of its shape, and strange rents in his flesh opened up. The gashes quickly grew teeth, lips, and tongues, covering the man in perfectly shaped human mouths. Barely a second after they had formed, the mouths started laughing.

The soldier desperately reached out for his comrades with the last part of his body that was still recognizable: an arm. The other men could do nothing but watch as the creature engulfed this last appendage.

The most battle-hardened instinct inside the leader forced him to snap out of his horror. “D-disperse!” he managed to shout to his men and he scrambled to his feet.

The soldiers tried to scatter backward, but it was too late. More hands shot out of the Purger and grabbed each of the men.

A small face popped up in one of the Purger’s palms.

“Now,” the face drawled, “we become one. There is no longer fear, or pain… only bliss.”

The face smiled happily as the soldiers screamed and screamed.

It was happening again.

Winia stood in the corner of the room as the Casull siblings packed their things. She wrung her hands, licked her lips, and otherwise did whatever she could to keep her feelings locked inside.

She could remember standing in that very spot after the four assassins had attacked, wishing there was something she could do to make the Casulls stay.

“It’s like deja vu,” Pacifica said, laughing a bit as she loaded a large bag into the coach. She turned to face Winia. “I know I said it before, but… well, I’m sorry, Winia.”

Winia shook her head and said nothing. She was sure that if she opened her mouth she would start crying, and she could tell that Pacifica was trying hard to act like nothing was wrong.

“We’ll come back when we can to give you money for the repairs, but I don’t know how soon that’ll be. I hope you’ll only charge us a little bit of interest, though …I mean—”

Shannon cut in. “Don’t try to weasel out of your debts,” he muttered.

Pacifica spun around to face him. “Hey!” she snapped. “You’re the one who destroyed the wall in the first place! I’m trying to be a kind sister and apologize on your behalf!”

“Hey,” a quiet voice called.

Winia looked up. Safir Colt appeared from around the corner of a building, a small bundle gripped in his hands. He walked over to where the siblings loaded their coach.

“I was afraid this would happen,” he mumbled. “Are you really leaving?”

Raquel bowed politely. “Thank you for everything, Mister Colt.”

Safir frowned. Winia was relieved to see neither fear nor hatred in his face. If anything, she thought she saw regret.

“I’m really sorry to see you go,” he said quietly. “But by this time tomorrow, the citizen’s patrol will drive you out of town. I don’t know where those rumors began, but now that everything’s gone this far anyway, I think you’re making the right decision to leave before the townspeople come after you. It’ll be better for everyone this way.”

The innkeeper sighed. Carefully, he unwrapped the package resting in his arms.

“This is a farewell gift. If it won’t be in your way, I hope you’ll take it on your travels.”

Inside was an old lute, the same one Shannon had played at the Wild Horse Inn. It had obviously seen a lot of use over the years—the body of the instrument was scratched and worn, but the important parts were in excellent shape. Safir handed the instrument to Raquel.

“Iris has been saying that she wants a new one,” Safir explained. “I’m sorry it’s used, but I thought you might get good use out of it.”

In a surprising moment, Winia saw clear, painful longing in Shannon’s dark eyes. Raquel handed Shannon the lute, and he cradled it in his hands.

Safir shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re fighting against, but I do know that you shouldn’t cut ties with your past. It’s easy to throw away your dreams and hopes and memories. But a person needs more than just a sword to live.”

Shannon looked up, his forehead creased. “Safir…”

“Don’t give up on the everyday world. Do what you have to do, fight the battles you have to fight, just don’t become a person whose life is nothing but violence and death.”

Shannon took a breath, then smiled a faint, tired smile.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’ll remember that.”

Luke stared at the paper that a subordinate held out to him. He furrowed his eyebrows at the soldier.

“A message from the capital?”

“Yes, sir.”

Luke took the offered letter. “Zard,” he read at loud. “Emergency message for all units—temporarily freeze current mission. Orders to para-combat dispatch teams three and six: in the case of an encounter with the Scrapped Princess, note change in orders from ‘Procedure 1, Eliminate’ to ‘Procedure 2, Surveillance.’ Please modify tactics accordingly.”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “Freeze the mission?” he repeated in surprise.

“It seems my concerns were well-founded,” Luke commented without looking up. “The leadership is divided over the handling of the Scrapped Princess. I’ve heard that even within senior headquarters there is an increasing number of officials who support capturing the princess over her elimination.”

Chris nodded. He had shared his superior’s concerns of a divided headquarters.

“It seems that even the Church has learned about this development. They’ve sent off a secret document, signed by Royal Chamberlain himself, ordering that this whole town be eliminated.”

Chris blinked. “What?” he blurted. “I certainly hope you’re kidding, sir.”

Luke shrugged. “We were prepared to do the same, so this shouldn’t come as a surprise. Whatever we do, it’s clear that the military, the Church, and the royal family are no longer working toward the same goals. We have to handle this situation carefully or we may end up fighting the Church’s forces.”

Chris paused to think about the new information. “Understood,” he murmured at last. “Should I go to one of the teams and inform them of the change in orders?”

Luke nodded. “That would be helpful.”

“Colonel!”

One of the Blackhawk soldiers ran toward Luke, stumbling as he went. It was an unusual sight—the Black-hawks were trained to deal calmly with any situation, yet the soldier was obviously panicked. When he stopped to clutch his chest in an attempt to catch his breath, Chris could see that he was shaking.

Luke clearly didn’t approve. “What’s going on, Slay?” he asked. “Get ahold of yourself.”

“Sir! It’s… an emergency!” The soldier gasped for air and nearly choked on his words. “The men… all dead… the Purger…” He trailed off, his face contorted with fear.

Luke’s blue eyes narrowed.

The carriage passed through the gate, leaving the town of Taurus behind.

Pacifica twisted in her seat. She obviously wanted to catch one last glimpse of the town they’d grown so fond of, but Shannon knew it wasn’t a good idea.

He touched her arm. “Don’t look back,” he said, his voice unusually gentle. “It’ll just make this harder.”

Pacifica turned back in the direction they were headed, her face falling. “You’re probably right,” she mumbled, looking down at her toes.

“Pacifica.”

“Yeah?”

“Get inside the cabin.”

An arrow suddenly flew through the air, straight for the back of Pacifica’s head; Shannon lunged and managed to catch it before it reached its target. He shoved his sister into the cabin and discarded the arrow.

“Hey!” Shannon shouted into the scenery that hid the attackers. “I’m having a pretty crappy day. If you’re planning to attack me, you’d better be prepared for the worst.”

In response, arrows soared out of the woods from multiple directions. There were at least four archers in the brush, if not more.

“Wall, defend!” Raquel’s voice rang out from the passenger cabin, activating the defensive spell Midgard. Shining geometric patterns surrounded the carriage and horses, deflecting every arrow.

Shannon cracked the whip. “We’re going straight through!” he called back.

The barrier disappeared. Without knowing what kind of enemies they faced, Shannon knew that Raquel needed to reserve her magical strength.

Shannon urged the horses onward. He wanted to get as far away from the ambush as possible. But before he could get very far, three men with daggers burst from the nearby thicket and leapt for the carriage.

Shannon managed to kick one of the men away, but the other two scrambled onto the carriage. One jumped onto the driver’s box, the other on the passenger cabin.

“Dammit!” Shannon cursed. He quickly drew his sword.

In the confines of the driver’s box, Shannon couldn’t make full use of his sword—a dagger’s short range was far more effective. And Raquel couldn’t use destructive magic on an enemy who clung to the Casulls’ only means of transportation. The opponent had outsmarted Shannon and given themselves a major advantage.

“Who are you?” Shannon hissed. The man wore a black mask over his face, and his clothes had no insignia or markings that Shannon could see.

Instead of answering, the man lunged at him with his dagger.

Shannon swiftly brought his sword around to block the blade. Unfortunately, the driver’s box wasn’t big enough for the maneuver Shannon had in mind; the sword lodged itself in the wall of the passenger cabin with a thunk.

“Argh!” Unable to block the dagger, Shannon had

no choice but to drop his sword and duck. Despite his efforts, the dagger still sliced through his shoulder.

Shannon’s abandoned sword slid out of the wooden cabin wall and clattered off the carriage. Before Shannon knew what was happening, his beloved heirloom was gone.

“Impressive,” the man muttered. “Few swordsmen are willing to drop a weapon, even if it is a hindrance.”

Shannon jammed his hand under the driver’s seat and pulled out a short sword he kept there for emergencies. “Shut up,” he snapped.

Both men moved at the same moment. The dagger and short sword met with a clash and locked together; both fighters pushed against their weapons in an attempt to overpower their opponent. Shannon abruptly forced his blade forward and twisted it. The masked man managed to avoid the blade but lost his balance, and Shannon drove his knee into the man’s gut.

For a moment it seemed like the masked man would fall, but he slammed his dagger into the wall of the passenger cabin and used it to anchor himself to the swiftly moving coach. The move jerked the man out of the way of Shannon’s short sword, and by the time Shannon had a chance to attack again, the man had already pulled himself onto the roof of the cabin to join his comrade.

Shannon hoped Raquel had a spell prepared, but he couldn’t think of anything that would be very effective in such close quarters. Defensive magic could work, but using offensive magic in the cabin would most likely kill everyone.

The men grabbed the edges of the roof and prepared to kick in the glass windows from both sides. Shannon was too far away to stop them.

An instant before their feet hit the windows, the glass burst out from the inside. Small steel pellets slammed into the men’s ankles and knocked them off-balance. Both men barely managed to catch themselves before they fell.

The rear door of the cabin opened, and Raquel’s head and torso appeared over the edge of the roof. She wore strange mechanical contraptions on both her wrists: compatible bows, special high-powered weapons that could launch arrows or steel pellets with great speed. Although her first attack had been through a glass window (and hence had a reduced level of force), even the non-lethal pellets could inflict serious injury at close range.

Raquel smiled. “Just because I’m a sorceress doesn’t mean I always attack with sorcery,” she said brightly. The bows on her wrists were still pointed at each of the men.

Shannon jumped onto the cabin’s roof. He knew they had to end the battle quickly, simply because he didn’t know how much longer the coach would stay upright without a driver. The stretch of road was mercifully straight, but the carriage could still tip over at any moment.

Under Raquel’s watchful gaze, neither man moved. They seemed surprised, but Shannon knew that wouldn’t last long. The men were dangerous, too dangerous for either Shannon or Raquel to take on alone. He suddenly realized there was only one option left.

“Pacifica!” he shouted. “Take over as driver!”

“What?!” Surprised, Pacifica poked her head out of the window behind the driver’s box. “B-but I’ve never driven before!” she spluttered.

“Just hold the reins! You’re better than nothing!”

Pacifica climbed through the window and tentatively took the reins. Shannon prayed she could handle the task without killing them all.

“So?” Shannon asked, focusing back on the masked men. “What’s it gonna be? I’d really like to end this so I can go back for my father’s sword.”

Shannon’s original opponent growled. “I don’t recall going easy on you,” he snapped, “but I suppose we weren’t prepared to take on a trained fighter.”

“I don’t recall going easy on you, but I suppose I was just used to all the flunkies we’ve faced.” Shannon glanced sideways at Pacifica, then felt the color abruptly drain from his face. His sister had apparently overcome her nervousness and was squealing in delight as she swung the reins wildly.

Don’t panic, he told himself in an attempt to calm down. Just win, then get those reins the hell out of her hands.

Before Shannon could make his attack, a horse suddenly appeared beside the speeding carriage. The horseman jumped out of the saddle with impressive agility; his gray overcoat spread out behind him as he soared through the air and landed gracefully beside Pacifica.

He smiled at Shannon, who resisted the urge to scream in frustration.

“Y-you!” was all Shannon managed to choke out.

Christopher Armalite winked at a perplexed Pacifica. “Let me do that,” he said as he took the reins from Pacifica’s unresisting hands.

“Er,” she began, confused. “What are you—?”

“For now, we’re not enemies.” In a display of his peculiar strength, Chris pulled the reins tight. The horses—frightened by the fighting—seemed to regain their sense and eventually slowed the carriage to a stop.

Chris stood upon the seat and spoke in a loud, clear voice without turning to look at the fighters on the roof.

“I have a message from Colonel Sturm,” he called. “Code Crimson 0037. He told me you would understand what that meant.”

The masked men exchanged a quick glance. In one fluid motion, they sheathed their weapons and pulled out thin chains with weights on the end, which they then threw into the trees to the side of the road. Before Shannon could even make a move, the men swung into the trees and were lost in the forest.

Shannon jumped back into the driver’s box. “Hey!” he snapped. “Battleaxe kid! I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

“Please call me Chris,” the boy said calmly.

Despite Chris’ help, Shannon felt a growing urge to throttle the boy. Haven’t I had to beat him enough times already? he wondered darkly. And can this day possibly get any worse?

“You want to tell me what’s going on here?” Shannon asked.

“Well, I can’t give you the details—they’re top secret. But I can tell you that the town is in chaos and that you better return.”

Pacifica’s eyes widened. “What happened to Taurus?!” she demanded.

Chris shrugged. “It looks like the Purgers have transformed into a crazy beast,” he said evenly. “They’re sucking in all sorts of things and growing bigger as we speak.”

Shannon opened his mouth to retort the ridiculous statement, but before he could speak a deafening roar pierced the air.

The three Casull siblings whipped toward the sound in shock. Above the familiar buildings of Taurus, giant tentacles swayed violently.