Book 2 Chapter 50 - Cats and Curiosity

Have you ever noticed how Merryl Hatheway
Is always depicted as selfish and conniving in the movies?

There is little evidence to suggest she was anything but a desperate girl.

Yet retellings of the story always want to cast her as a villain.

I wonder why.
—AnthonyOfArt, Review of “Shades Of Violence”

Merryl wasn't sure if her breath or her heart would be louder. Holding her breath would solve one problem, but she needed it to calm her heart.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

Merryl was supposed to waste her time. She was supposed to follow an innocent, sweet girl and feel like shit for it. Violet Asher would go through hell to make sure her friends—and even strangers—were safe.. She would fight a queen while her allies watched, just so no one else got hurt during the fight. She was a good person. Better than most, even. That was what everyone said. Violet Asher was like a hero from a story. Brave and self-sacrificing. Beautiful and funny. A goddamn Powerpuff Girl with longer legs. 

That was what Merryl expected when she’d gotten the assignment. It was mostly what had happened with her last assignment. Bouvier had sent her after Koral for months. And while that girl hadn’t been a renowned hero who conquered nests in her category alone, she had been a perfectly pleasant person. Charming, even. Well-liked by her friends and never demonstrated any of the behaviors Bouvier had been worried about. 

Merryl rushed across the room as soon as Violet left. She had to do something. To tell someone. She’d been lured into a false sense of security by Koral. She’d thought her new assignment would be the same. But it wasn’t.

It wasn’t.

Violet was a monster. 

More terrifying than anything Merryl would find in the mist. More vindictive. More... cruel.

Merryl didn’t understand what the other girl was talking about. There was context she was missing, and she didn’t know if Violet was making things up or not. There was only one thing Merryl could be sure of. Violet couldn’t stop smiling. Not when a sick man collapsed in front of her, and not when she’d tried to cut that man’s throat. The only time it wavered was when Violet glanced in Merryl’s direction. Violet had paused then, and Merryl thought she’d been spotted despite her “Cloak and Dagger” talent. But the smile had returned, and the monologue continued. And it remained clear. Violet was having fun. She was tormenting someone helpless. Torturing him, even, and she was enjoying herself.

Merryl wanted to do something. She wanted to stop Violet. The other girl was almost a full category beneath Merryl. The operator was an orange nine, and the storm scout was only an orange one. It should have been easy to win with a disparity like that.

Except... Violet had killed a queen. One which, like Merryl, was several degrees higher than Violet when the fight started. Merryl wasn’t a brave person. She wasn’t a bad person, either, but she hadn’t volunteered for the lancers. And she wasn’t particularly skilled at combat. Her talents were all for hiding and escaping, not for hurting anything. Or anyone. As soon as she revealed herself, she’d have to fight Violet. The girl who killed queens. She’d have a huge attribute advantage, so it shouldn’t have been such a terrifying concept. But there was something stopping her. The instincts of prey faced with a predator. Every cell in her body was screaming at her. If she confronted Violet head-on, she would die. Violet was gloating over the paralyzed body of a Category Green, after all. What could a high orange do?

She just couldn’t understand what she was looking at. It was like watching an old horror movie. And if she didn’t do something, a man was going to die. Thankfully, every weapon Violet used failed to do real damage. Merryl just had to wait. Violet would need another method to kill the man, and that gave Merryl time to think. 

At least.

She’d hoped as much. But Violet had dragged the man to the fountain and left his head underwater. Whether there was a weapon in the room that could break the skin or not, that would kill him. Merryl had to do something. For a brief moment, she thought she’d have to fight Violet just to pull Mr. Mulberry out of the water. Her heart started clamoring for release from her chest as she considered this, but she quickly calmed. Violet didn’t linger.

Thank Christ Violet didn’t linger.

After dropping Mr. Mulberry’s head in the fountain, she’d simply stretched like she’d woken from a long nap, and calmly walked across the room. She didn’t even close the door behind her as she left.  

Merryl moved immediately. It had only been a few seconds. She wasn’t sure if it was possible for Mr. Mulberry to hold his breath, but she knew CPR. She could save him if she pulled him out quickly enough. She crossed the room as swiftly as she could and grabbed the man’s collar. She leaned against the fountain as she lifted his head, and let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Mr. Mulberry gasped as soon as she lifted him. He was alright. She just needed to get him back to the sofa, and she could go ask for help.

She was so relieved. Adrenaline was running through her veins, and her blood pressure risked killing her, but she hadn’t sat back and watched a murder. They were safe. They would both be safe.

The lights went out.

“You shouldn’t touch other people’s things without permission,” Violet teased.

And hope drained from Merryl like sand through an hourglass.

She immediately fed clarity to “Night Stalker,” which turned the world around her to a mix of dark watercolors. It wasn't quite night vision, but it was better. Whatever Violet had hoped for by turning the lights out, Merryl had the advantage in the dark. She could see not only everything and everyone, but anything dangerous literally glowed when she looked at it. The more perilous it was, the brighter the light. 

As she turned to face the voice, her breath caught in her throat. She could definitely see Violet. 

The girl she'd been following was approaching slowly. Violet held an orange scythe behind her back in an almost girlish way, like she was hiding a bouquet. The head of the scythe was scraping loudly against the ground as Violet dragged it, and it became clear that stealth hadn't been part of Violet's designs. The world was darkness, with glowing orange as a backdrop for the approaching monster. 

It was the eyes that haunted Merryl. The weapon was dangerous on its own, yet it was Violet’s eyes that lit the world. Blue and undefinable, Merryl’s talent identified them as death. They were vast, haunting, and not as empty as she expected from a killer. Whatever horror they contained, Merryl feared them far more than the edge of a blade.

She'd already pulled the man from a watery death. She had to survive to keep him safe. 

To call for help. 

She needed to escape.

She activated Cloak and Dagger a second time. This talent had kept her from Violet’s thirsty eyes all night; it would protect her again. She couldn't run. While she would no longer make a sight or sound, anything she touched would. She had to be slow. Deliberate. Smooth. 

Violet had stopped. The murderous shadow stood still and scanned the room as Merryl crept from the fountain. Violet would likely guard the door, but Merryl had “Light as a Feather.” If she could get to a window, she would be free. And she could get help.

Except...

She was wrong. Violet had stopped. That much was true. But she wasn't scanning the room. That was Merryl’s assumption when she saw Violet’s head move, but she'd only been glancing. As Merryl froze, so, too, did Violet’s gaze. Those eyes hadn't been scanning for Merryl. They'd been following her. Violet hadn’t lost track of her target for a second.

Violet’s smile was bright, too, and it split the darkness as she spoke again.

“Funny thing. I can't see you at all. That's an impressive talent. I can see why he chose you for this. Well. One of the reasons, anyway,” Violet mused.

Merryl took a deep, slow breath. Violet’s eyes were definitely following her. She didn't understand why the other girl would lie about being able to see her. It made no sense. If Violet was trying to catch her off guard, that would be one thing. But to lie while obviously tracking her? 

“You can respond to me, you know. I know where you are,” Violet said. “No use trying to hide.”

Merryl couldn't take it. She ran. She just had to make it to the window.

Yet... something caught her. Violet hadn't moved, but something gripped Merryl's back like a hook, yanking her from her feet as she tried to flee. One moment, she was sprinting to the window. The next, her head was cracking against the crystal floor.

“You're not leaving alive, I’m afraid. That would be... inconvenient. And I'm sorry about that, really. I do feel bad. But, well. You know. You were spying on me, right? This really feels like your fault,” Violet said. 

Merryl's head hurt, and she broke. “I didn't want to! Please, I didn't want to! He made me! Bouvier forced me to!” she cried.

As she looked up and cleared her vision, she saw those burning blue eyes looking down at her. 

“Oh, I know. He does like to blackmail his students, doesn't he? I wonder if he only does it to the pretty ones, though. Or if you and I are just lucky,” Violet wondered. “I suppose it doesn't matter. Not to you, anyway. The point is, you were willing to violate my privacy when you thought it was safe. Now you know it wasn't. Blackmail or otherwise, you made a choice. Unfortunately, those sometimes have consequences.”

Merryl scrambled away from Violet and tried to climb to her feet. “I-If you know he sent me, you know you can't kill me! He’ll know where I was last! A-And who I was following!” she tried.

Violet giggled. 

“Oh, honey, he knows I’m a killer already. I’m pretty sure he does, anyway. It's why he sent you. Not to find out something he already knew. To find proof. Leverage. He needs a witness, not information. So he can better blackmail me, like he is you. Yeah, your death will confirm his suspicions. Especially when your corpse is found next to Samuel here. But it won't prove them, so nothing will happen. Not while he still needs me. Besides, what is he gonna do, exactly? Tell the police that the teenage girl he was blackmailing to follow another teenage girl is dead, and he knows who did it?” Violet mocked.

And as she spoke, Merryl recognized the truth in her words. Bouvier would see Merryl as a lost asset. And not valuable enough to sacrifice Violet. Violet was useful, so Bouvier would keep her in his pocket. Even if he wouldn’t, that didn’t matter. What mattered to Merryl was that Violet believed he would. If Merryl couldn’t make Violet believe she’d face consequences, it made no difference. Not to Merryl. She’d be dead either way. She could see her end in blue eyes.

She didn’t bother responding. She was on her feet now, and Violet wasn’t moving. She only had one chance. A good chance, if she’d stop being such a coward. She lunged at Violet. She had to fight. She would be stronger. She would be faster. And it wouldn’t be close. Merryl had no weapons, and no Tools of the Trade talent to create them. She wasn’t a fighter, and she certainly didn’t have it in her to kill someone. But if it was her or Violet? She would fight.

Violet responded much more quickly than Merryl expected, and the scythe was descending on her well before it should have. This caught her off guard, but she was still faster. Stronger. More dextrous. She sidestepped death as it descended and batted the massive blade away with one arm. It was weighted poorly to use as a weapon, and that gave Merryl an advantage.

Or... it should have.

Yet Violet simply allowed it to fly to the side of the room. As it clattered to the floor, she held her hands up in a defensive posture. Merryl was nearly close enough to make contact with her punch, but a glowing orange knife formed in Violet’s hand at the last moment. Merryl had to abandon her attack and dodge to the left as the blade tried to bite her. It made her heart beat, but it was comforting at the same time. 

Violet had frightened her. Made her forget herself. Just with the lengths the other girl was willing to go to. Violet’s seeming lack of moral limits or hesitation had activated an evolutionary instinct in Merryl. But that jab? It had been wild. Untrained. Telegraphed to the extreme. Merryl may have been averse to fighting, but she did go to training regularly. Violet was still a new student. As rabid as the girl was, she didn’t know how to fight properly yet. 

Merryl could win.

Of course, Merryl hadn’t brought any weapons. She hadn’t expected to need them. She knew how to fight with daggers and knives, but that was much easier when both parties had one. As it was, even flailing with a knife was dangerous, and Merryl had to be cautious in her counterattacks. Violet was using wide, sweeping movements. When she tried a jab, she would wind up enough that Merryl could spot each attempt well before it was made. Even as Violet created a second knife and attacked with both, Merryl grew more and more confident. She was going to win. 

Of course she was. She was almost an entire category above Violet. It sounded like Mr. Mulberry had been drugged or something. But Merryl was wide awake. And adrenaline made her reflexes sharper than ever. Violet swung down, and Merryl batted the knife away. Violet slashed from the left, and Merryl caught her hand. Merryl jabbed with her left fist and made contact before blocking another swing. The fight was rapid but predictable, with only Merryl scoring hits while only Violet had lethal intent.

There was a rhythm to it. One Merryl understood better than her opponent. As the seconds dragged on, she started scoring more hits. Harder hits. And each time her fist landed, Violet took a moment to recover. A hit to one ear, and Violet winced. A hit to the collar bone, then one to the head, and finally one to the throat. Violet dropped both knives. 

And finally, Merryl knew she had won. But she didn’t stop. She punched Violet in the jaw as hard as she could, then delivered an uppercut to the gut. She caught Violet’s hands so the killer couldn’t fight back, and she activated her last talent. “Prisoner of War” bound Violet's arms to her side and tied her legs together. Before Violet could fall, Merryl grabbed the girl's neck and began to squeeze. She didn’t even know why she was doing it. She’d just been so afraid, then she’d been fighting, and her blood had been rushing, and...

She won. She actually fucking won! And she needed to stop. She wasn’t trying to kill Violet, and the girl had been incapacitated. She released the gasping woman in her hands. As Violet fell, Merryl took a few deep breaths of her own. She had to do something. She was forgetting something. 

Mr. Mulberry.

She turned on her heel and ran to where she’d left him. But... he wasn’t there. She scanned the room with her talent, and her heart started to pound again. He was in the fountain. He’d been put back into the water to drown. She didn’t understand when it had happened. She didn’t know how long he’d been there. But he wasn’t struggling. 

Oh, Christ. Is he dead? Did I let him die?

She asked herself the question over and over in the span of a single breath. She tried to run to him. She had to pull him out. 

But the agony in her back was too sharp and too sudden. Violet was bound. Violet had lost. But...

“Oh... Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck, you... you actually stabbed me. Christ. Jesus fucking Christ, that hurts! You actually stabbed me!” she shouted with racked sobs in her voice. She dropped all of her talents for only a moment, but that would have been enough. She reactivated Night Stalker as she stumbled, and found Violet standing directly in front of her.

She was in a horror movie. A nightmare. Hell. 

She was in fucking hell.

“Yeah, sweetie. That’s what the knives were for,” Violet consoled. 

The next cut was from the front. Violet’s knife slid between two ribs, and blood filled Merryl’s mouth. The operator stumbled back, then tried to fend off an attack from Violet. She caught her attacker’s hand, but the knife fell from it, and Violet gripped back. And... something caught the weapon as it fell. Merryl’s talent couldn’t see what it was. It didn’t seem to exist outside of the darkness, and the weapon merely floated for a moment. Then, it plunged into her gut.

It didn’t remain for long. Violet wasn’t strong enough to hold Merryl’s arms, but her attacks kept them busy. Weapons cut flesh, then disappeared. All so a new knife could form and slash at her again. Over, and over and over. The pain never stopped. Each cut hurt just as much. She was growing weak. Everything was red and copper, and all of it lived in the blue lights on Violet’s shadowy face.

“P-Please...” Merryl begged. “I just... I just wanted...”

“I’m sorry,” Violet cut in. “I don’t really care.”

Merryl felt vines wrap around her. She couldn’t see them, but she felt them. They tied her arms to her sides. They bound her legs. They choked her. And they dragged her bloodied body across the ground. A moment later, and she found her head underwater. She struggled, but her strength was fleeing with her blood. 

The last thought she had came as she saw the open eyes of the dead man next to her. She couldn’t make out his features, not with her talent activated. But it was obvious. He was dead.

Oh, God... Oh, God, I’m actually going to die...