who landed in front of her again was the original , the two of them looked so similar her mouth simply hung open. This eerie battle, where the true tussled with the false, would tolerate no interruption by a human voice.
But if both of them were D, just how would the real one defeat the false? The glittering sword reflected in an unseen mirror would doubtless cut both of them clear to bone.
Step by step, the first D advanced. His opponent followed suit. Though it may have been her imagination, Nan thought she caught a cruel smile on the other D’s face. It was only a second later that the same face donned a perplexed expression. Without breaking his stance, D had turned his back to him. His foe didn’t move. The thread linking the false to the true had suddenly been severed.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” a voice spat mockingly. “Why don’t you try getting some help from the other me?” the voice spoke to the other D—the one frozen behind the Hunter’s back.
Nan got the impression that the words had spilled from the end of D’s left hand, and no sooner had her eyes snapped wide with shock than the other D kicked off the ground without a sound. His blade ripped through the air, snarling like the breaking surf.
Making no attempt to parry that slash, the black darkness of D’s coat spread its wings before the attacker. A blow that should’ve severed bone merely ripped the cloth on the Hunter’s sleeve, and was no match for the blade that shot up from below and ran deep into the torso of the shaken and despairing attacker.
D dodged the body as it dropped in a bloody mist, and backed away. Though the corpse was the very image of him, it didn’t seem to stir any deep emotion in the young man. As he put his sword away and turned to Nan, his face was completely devoid of sentiment.
“D, what in the world—” Nan finally managed to say, but the Hunter cut her short.
“Why did you come here?”
Cold was the only way to describe his question. Her eyes were trained on the shafts above her. All movement had stopped. “I thought I’d talk to you . . . about my dreams, since we never got to finish our conversation back in the bar.” Nan’s voice caught in her throat. Though she was a child of the Frontier, she’d never seen someone die up close like that before.
“The sun will be setting soon. You’d better go home.”
D’s curt dismissal finally drew a recognizable human emotion out of Nan’s heart. Anger.
“You’re awful. After I came all the way here—” she began to say, but no further words came from her mouth. Just what did she mean to this Hunter? Though she was fully aware it wasn’t much, she certainly didn’t want to be reminded of that fact.
“The night doesn’t belong to mankind yet,” D said quietly, as if the deadly encounter moments earlier had been merely a dream.
“That’s not a problem in our village. I think . . . I can’t say for sure, but it really should be safe. In the century since the last of our Nobility disappeared, no one’s ever fallen victim at night.”
“Maybe tonight someone will.”
Nan was dumbstruck. Her eyes were hot and they stung, though this time not from sweat. “I’m going home,” she said, trying to sound self-assured, even as she had little confidence it’d come out that way. Her voice quavered with anger. Just turn and walk away and that’ll do it , she thought. She’d dreamt of him two nights more than the rest of the town. What was that supposed to mean? Didn’t that count for anything with this young man?
Nan raised her face. Almost glaring, she said to D, “I have to finish telling you what I didn’t get a chance to say back in the bar. You want to know why I’m concerned about Sybille? Because I used to be in the hospital room next to hers.” And having said it all in a single breath, she turned herself around and walked away.
Going out into the corridor, Nan was on her way down the stairs when the tears spilled out. She tried
But if both of them were D, just how would the real one defeat the false? The glittering sword reflected in an unseen mirror would doubtless cut both of them clear to bone.
Step by step, the first D advanced. His opponent followed suit. Though it may have been her imagination, Nan thought she caught a cruel smile on the other D’s face. It was only a second later that the same face donned a perplexed expression. Without breaking his stance, D had turned his back to him. His foe didn’t move. The thread linking the false to the true had suddenly been severed.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” a voice spat mockingly. “Why don’t you try getting some help from the other me?” the voice spoke to the other D—the one frozen behind the Hunter’s back.
Nan got the impression that the words had spilled from the end of D’s left hand, and no sooner had her eyes snapped wide with shock than the other D kicked off the ground without a sound. His blade ripped through the air, snarling like the breaking surf.
Making no attempt to parry that slash, the black darkness of D’s coat spread its wings before the attacker. A blow that should’ve severed bone merely ripped the cloth on the Hunter’s sleeve, and was no match for the blade that shot up from below and ran deep into the torso of the shaken and despairing attacker.
D dodged the body as it dropped in a bloody mist, and backed away. Though the corpse was the very image of him, it didn’t seem to stir any deep emotion in the young man. As he put his sword away and turned to Nan, his face was completely devoid of sentiment.
“D, what in the world—” Nan finally managed to say, but the Hunter cut her short.
“Why did you come here?”
Cold was the only way to describe his question. Her eyes were trained on the shafts above her. All movement had stopped. “I thought I’d talk to you . . . about my dreams, since we never got to finish our conversation back in the bar.” Nan’s voice caught in her throat. Though she was a child of the Frontier, she’d never seen someone die up close like that before.
“The sun will be setting soon. You’d better go home.”
D’s curt dismissal finally drew a recognizable human emotion out of Nan’s heart. Anger.
“You’re awful. After I came all the way here—” she began to say, but no further words came from her mouth. Just what did she mean to this Hunter? Though she was fully aware it wasn’t much, she certainly didn’t want to be reminded of that fact.
“The night doesn’t belong to mankind yet,” D said quietly, as if the deadly encounter moments earlier had been merely a dream.
“That’s not a problem in our village. I think . . . I can’t say for sure, but it really should be safe. In the century since the last of our Nobility disappeared, no one’s ever fallen victim at night.”
“Maybe tonight someone will.”
Nan was dumbstruck. Her eyes were hot and they stung, though this time not from sweat. “I’m going home,” she said, trying to sound self-assured, even as she had little confidence it’d come out that way. Her voice quavered with anger. Just turn and walk away and that’ll do it , she thought. She’d dreamt of him two nights more than the rest of the town. What was that supposed to mean? Didn’t that count for anything with this young man?
Nan raised her face. Almost glaring, she said to D, “I have to finish telling you what I didn’t get a chance to say back in the bar. You want to know why I’m concerned about Sybille? Because I used to be in the hospital room next to hers.” And having said it all in a single breath, she turned herself around and walked away.
Going out into the corridor, Nan was on her way down the stairs when the tears spilled out. She tried
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