JUSTICE EDGE

Blue.

That was the colour of the sky when I awoke on that day. The clouds hovering in the sky promised a storm with their deep blue bottoms, so I heaved myself out of bed and quickly dressed. I fully intended to make as much of the day as I could.

If you’ve never been to Venice, it is merely a word without meaning – a place you can only imagine. For those who have seen its splendour, Venice is more than a city – Venice is a world in itself, an idea, and an atmosphere. It was my sixth day in the city, and despite my comparatively low rank, it had already left a mark upon me.

As usually happens before a storm, a thick fog began to form in the air, so I quickly ran down my inn’s rickety flight of stairs to the adjoining boathouse. Grabbing my rented gondola I clumsily guided it out upon the canals water. Unfortunately, like the golden concert halls, a gondolier was more then I could afford. Still, my skill with the graceful boats was daily improving, and I felt quite sure that soon I would be an expert. I steered the gondola for my favourite destination – the deserted ghost town that floated a half hour to the east.

The ghost town was once a thriving city centre, but age finally took its toll, and the carefree Venetians found themselves with sinking homes. Some buildings are now underwater, their roof peaks scraping against the keels of passing gondolas, but a few remain standing, and to one spacious old house I tethered my craft.

The door was leaning crazily on its hinges, and I easily pushed it out of my way, wincing a little at the clamour it made. The front hallway I found myself in was enormous of itself. To my right was a curved stairway leading to the second floor. As I took another step forward, something crunched underneath my feet, and a quick glance downward made me glad to be wearing boots. The ground was covered in shards of glass, probably from a chandelier that had once hung above. Crouching down, I carefully picked up a piece of the dusty glass and ran a finger along the now dull edge. For a moment I tried to picture the building in its glory days, brightly lit with candles and crowded with upper class Venetians, all gaudily dressed, flirting and dancing, living for the moment…

I shook my head. My imagination had become so vivid; I could have sworn I’d seen a young woman walking up the stairs, dressed in seventeenth century finery, her head downcast.

A frown creased my brow. There was something about this house – a feeling that I couldn’t explain. Still, my curiosity drove me on, and I carefully began to climb the curving stairway.

At the top of the stairs ran a cobweb filled hallway, in one direction sweeping around the foyer below, and in another leading into the buildings depths.

I chose the latter, and began walking down the long passage, seeing ahead a balcony of some kind that jutted over the water.

Cautiously I stepped out on it, noticing shafts of sunlight piercing through the storm clouds. Looking down, I could see the remains of houses buried underwater. As I peered at their water distorted forms, for some strange reason I thought of walking through them in the cool blue water, with the suns light dancing a pale red and white through the waves. Caught in my strange dream, I leaned closer, not noticing the ancient railing cracking under my weight.

I started suddenly as a scream rent the air, echoing eerily all around me, dragging me out of my reverie. Shaken, I looked about, stepping back into the hallway with the piercing cry seeming to echo in my head. It had sounded like someone was in mortal danger. Throwing all caution to the wind I ran down the hallway, kicking or ripping open doors and peering into rooms, trying to find the source of the terrifying sound.

At last I came to the only remaining door and threw it open.

It must have been a beautiful room once. In some ways it still was, but neither the dusty chandelier frame still hanging from the ceiling or the half rotted piano caught my attention.

It was the young woman who did; the same young woman I’d thought I had imagined climbing the stairs. She was dressed in the same showy white dress and stood turned away from me, looking out the windows smashed panes.

I took an uncertain step forward. “Ma’am?” I managed, “can I help you…I…I heard a scream…”

She turned, and my next words caught in my throat. She was beautiful, perfect in every way, from her fine eyebrows to her delicate down turned lips.

There was only one blemish – across her lily white neck was drawn a thin line of red, from which dripped thin streams of crimson blood.

I backed away, my hands blindly groping for the door as she walked slowly toward me, her eyes bearing a wordless plea.

At last my hand found the doorway, and I flung myself out of the room and recklessly down the stairs. Outside the building my heart gave a sudden jump. My gondola had vanished.

Cursing with fear and frustration I half ran to the closest door and throwing it open made straight for the window. I could see nothing on the ominously calm water, but to my right I noticed a rope hanging from the roof. Curious, I pulled on it, realizing suddenly that someone had used it to climb up the side of the building. I bit my lip and thought quickly. Perhaps the view from the roof would assist me in finding my gondola.

With only a little trouble I crawled out the window and began the climb. Nearly five minutes later, nearly winded, I pulled myself onto the roof, lying down at first to catch my breath.

When I stood and allowed my gaze to rove, I saw a figure standing on the other side of the roof. My jaw tightened. Ghosts don’t need ropes, I thought to myself as I strode over, and maybe this person knows what’s going on here.

The figure turned just as I approached, giving me a good look at her startling beauty. Short black hair fell over her eyes, highlighting her fine young features and accenting the white scar on her left cheek. She was dressed all in black, from dark moccasins to an onyx pendant hanging around her neck, but it seemed to suit her like a set of regal robes. Before I could say a word, she began to speak.

“I see you’ve found one of the houses inhabitants,” she said in a rich but quiet voice. “I think you should thank me for saving you too.”

“Really?” I remarked dryly. “And how did you manage that?”

“By screaming. I saw you on the balcony – you were a hands breadth from joining the others.:

For a moment my mind went back to that strange moment, when I had seemed really and truly…free. It had been an exhilarating feeling. Finally, I found my voice again.

“What…was it about the water?” I asked. “I must admit you were right. I almost drowned I think.”

She gave a tiny smile and nodded. “The others can be viscous. They cannot hurt you themselves, but they will drive you to your death if they can.”

Again I was remembering – seeing the young woman at the window.

“Who is the one in the white dress?” I queried, wondering if she even knew the answer.

“I don’t know her name,” she said slowly, “but I know her story. A jealous lover killed her one night. He took her away from everyone else, and led her to that window…where he slit her throat. She isn’t the only one though. Stay here long enough and you’ll see many more.”

Her words brought to mind the reason I’d come up in the first place. “I don’t suppose,” I said casually, “that you’ve seen a gondola.”

“Not one,” she replied simply. “Are you saying that mine is gone too?”

I shrugged. “Not that I could see. If you tied yours at the front – then it’s gone.”

For a split second I thought I saw a glimmer of anger on her face, but it passed as quickly as it had come.

“Tell me,” I demanded, “why are you here. Why do you know so much about the…others.”

She sighed and looked away over the waters. For a long moment there was only the sound of far off thunder, then she spoke.

“I could not explain unless I told my entire story. Do you have the time?”

A short bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Do I look like I’m going anywhere?”

She nodded thoughtfully, her hair swaying back and forth as if in some kind of dance.

“I was born in Birmingham England,” she began, “and I spent sixteen years of my life there. At sixteen I ran away from home. You must understand, I had not even finished my schooling. But…I had a strange desire…almost a need, for something new. It was so strong it pushed me away from my family, my friends. I saw much of Europe in the next three years, and it was just after I turned nineteen that I arrived in Venice. At last, after years of searching, I felt like I’d arrived – like I belonged here. I’ve been here a year now, but only a few weeks ago did I find this place. Of course, I was as surprised as you – almost. It wasn’t my first encounter with one of the others. You see, in my travels, I was thrown into circumstances I’d never imagined. Life is like that. Most people think they are in control, they don’t notice anything unusual. For the few like me, it becomes more and more obvious – that someone besides us controls our lives. You too are one of the few. Your gondola is gone. Why? For a reason – to keep you here.”

I frowned as I sat carefully on the roofs peak beside her. “Why – why do the others roam the earth? What is it they want?”

“More then anything, they thirst for revenge and freedom.”

I laughed. “Ridiculous. How can they expect to get revenge? Their murderer is long dead. He must be.”

Again, a tiny smile curved enigmatically across her lips. “Is he?”

I froze. If she was suggesting what I thought, then she must truly be insane – and for all that matter I was too.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said as calmly as ever. “You think I am mad. But listen. Every time a murder is committed, the victim’s soul begins the long journey of twilight. If, however, the murderer touches his blood to that of his victims, he can steal the souls strength, making him faster, stronger and smarter, and robbing the victim of the ability to pass on to the lands beyond.”

“So you mean to say,” I cut in incredulously, “that the murderer is still alive?”

“Ah – now you understand. Yes, that is what I am saying.”

“Do you know who it is?”

She looked away again, staring in the direction of the islands faint outlines. “I – I think I do,” she said slowly. “But knowing who it is and serving justice are two very different things. It I am right – it could be quite hard.”

“One of the hard parts,” I said pointedly, “may be getting away from here.”

This time a positively wicked smile wreathed her face. “For you perhaps,” she said sweetly.”

I shot to my feet, instantly regretting it as I almost lost my balance. “Look here,” I said as firmly as possible. “If you know anything about my gondola, please tell me. I can’t afford to pay for it.”

The smile disappeared. “That reminds me,” she mused. “You have not told me your story. Common courtesy demands an exchange.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” I sighed wearily. “I was kicked out at seventeen for breaking every rule my parent made. I just scraped together enough money to fly from Montreal to Holland. I’ve wandered like you for a few years, except that I had no encounters like this one. Thank God for that.”

She walked closer and sat beside me, her shoulder just touching mine.

“A wanderer?”

I nodded. “For now, yes. It’s a good enough life I suppose, but sometimes I think I could do with a little more direction and purpose. There must be some reason behind all that happens.”

“Purpose?”

“You know, a direction in life, a meaning. I wouldn’t even care if someone else picked it for me. It would be nice just to have one.”

We sat in silence for a moment, and then she spoke again.

“Would you find it below yourself to avenge a murder?”

A slow smile crossed my face as I thought about it. “No,” I said eventually, “not at all I think.”

A few minutes later, we stood in the upper hallway and I watched in interest as she undid the pendant hanging around her neck and held it to eye level, chanting some strange words under her breath. I hardly noticed it at first, but half a minute later I could feel a cool wind on my cheek. It blew straight down the hallway, coming from the balcony I’d peered over…how long before? It seemed like ages ago.

I watched as the breeze stirred the pendant in her hand, idly twirling it about, barely noticing the others as they began to walk toward us.

I was struck by their numbers – at least thirty must have stood around us, standing in the hall or peering through doors, their ghostly frames showing halfway through the walls.

My companion began to speak in the same strange language that she had used before – I assume it was Italian – and I abruptly realized that she could not see them any more then I could hear them. Although I could not hear a reply, her words seemed to be making an impact. Seconds later I saw them nod in agreement and draw away, and we stood alone again in the long hallway.

Wordlessly she led the way down the stairs and out onto the deck where I saw my gondola, right as I had left it.

Elated, I climbed in, with my companion close behind.

“So,” I said conversationally, “where to now?”

She gave a haunting smile as she tied the strange dark pendant around her neck.

“The house of Giorgio Fabio, banker and respected city alderman.”

By the time we had reached the main pieta, the sky was darkening with the approaching clouds and the coming night. A strong east wind was blowing through the cool canals, carrying on it the smell of rain.

I grunted a little as I quickly propelled the little craft over the dark waters. “Tell me,” I said between breaths, “what is a name that I can call you by?”

I threw a look at her, sitting motionlessly in the centre of the gondola, her fingers trailing in the water with a soft ripple.

“I don’t have one yet,” she replied tonelessly, “and neither do you. Of course, you probably mean the name my parents gave me, which is Lilith.”

I frowned. “Well, my name is Tyco, in case you were wondering, though I doubt it. Anyhow, what did you mean by what you said.”

“About names?”

“Yes, that.”

“Why should we accept the names that others give us? A name should be like your life, like who you are. You forge it for yourself, and some make it strong and lasting, while others become nobody.”

“Is that always good?” I asked. “Fabio seems to have made a name for himself.”

“Yes,” she replied calmly. “And I have a feeling we are shortly to find out what it is.”

Giorgio Fabio’s house was a huge old manor, set apart from all the others by a single narrow bridge on which stood two security guards, hands resting on the butts of their guns.

Lilith grabbed my arm and pulled me with her to the bottom of the boat before I could raise my voice in protest.

“Quiet,” she whispered fiercely, her arm wrapped tightly around me. “The current should take us past.”

The boat drifted silently, barely leaving a ripple on face of the water. As we lay on our backs, arms intertwined, we could see high above us the first stars appearing in the sky, peering through gaps in the clouds. Then, the dark shape of the bridge blotted them out for a moment, and a second later when the sky reappeared, we knew we had passed.

Ever so quietly I tied the gondola onto the private dock. My companion gently tugged at the vines clinging to the houses side. “Not strong enough,” she whispered. “Do you see any other way up?”

Wordlessly I pointed to the antique metal drainpipe climbing up the wall just past a third story window.

She nodded. “Worth a try at least. I’ll go first.”

Soundlessly she seized the pipe with both hands and using her knees as support, pulled herself up, with me following close behind.

The room we found ourselves in was dimly lit, the walls covered with bookshelves and a single candle burning by the armchair that faced away from us, casting unsteady shadows along the floor.

“Come,” whispered Lilith, “we must search the house for Fabio. It could take a while, so hurry.”

She had just turned toward the darkness of the door when a voice spoke out, saying, “don’t bother,” and the armchair swung about.

I saw sitting on it perhaps one of the oldest men I have ever seen, his hair white as snow and his brow wrinkled with age. But his eyes – they were the strangest I had stared into. They seemed far too young for such an old face, and yet in a strange way looked ancient and wise.

“You are shocked?” he asked. “Oh yes,” he smiled at me, “I know what you are thinking. How could anyone attack such an innocent old man?”

Lilith’s jaw tightened, and without warning she flew toward the old man, moving so fast she nearly left an afterimage in my mind. For a second she was obscuring my view of the old man, then she stepped out of the way, and a gasp caught in my throat.

Where there had been an old man was now a beautiful young one, his dark curly hair plastered close against his olive skin. An unpleasant sneer crossed his lips as he stood.

“For that,” he said deliberately, “you will die. Slowly.”

Lilith smiled and dropped the mask she’d been carrying.

I watched amazed as she put up her hands in a defensive position while Fabio sped toward her, murder in his eyes. Immediately the two fell into fighting like none I had ever seen before, so perfect and beautiful, but deadly at the same time.

As I watched in amazement, I head a rustle behind me, and whirling about saw a guard standing in the door, nightclub in hand.

Fabio looked up from his battle for a brief second. “Take the intruder alive,” he called out. “I want him alive!” With a quick nod the guard raced toward me, club held at the ready. I ducked under his blow easily, grabbing his right arm as he fell past me, and pushing him up against a bookcase. A groan escaped his lips as I forced him into submission by slowly twisting his arm up behind his back. I grinned. This could be easier then I had thought.

Then another two guards raced into the room, and my cocky grin vanished. Thinking quickly, I shoved my captive’s arm as high as it could go, then farther, wincing slightly as he screamed in agony.

I guess he’s out of the fight, I thought in satisfaction as he dropped limply to the ground. No time for self-congratulation though. I met the first with a kick that sent him staggering away, then threw a powerful punch right at the next guard’s face. He blocked it easily, knocking my attack away at the last moment and spinning about to deliver his own.

Unthinkingly I ducked, and felt his fingers pass through my hair, barely missing my head. Gritting my teeth, I leapt into the air, spinning as I did and kicking out as soon as I reached chest level. It was a beautiful move, perfectly executed except for one thing. I’d forgotten the bookshelves behind me. As he flew backwards I crashed into the closest bookcase, cracking my head on one of the lower shelves.

Grimacing with pain I opened my eyes and looked up to see the top of the bookshelf swaying back and forth. I must have really hit my head, I thought, unless the bookshelves are…really falling!

I just managed to roll out of the way in time, but two of the guards weren’t so lucky. The first, groping about in pain, was crushed right underneath, and the one I’d just kicked was trapped by his leg and writhed about in pain for some time before falling silent.

The only remaining one staggered close, his fists held up in a pitiful attempt at self-defence. I dropped him to the ground with an elbow in the face, and then turned to see how Lilith was doing.

I needn’t have worried. She was standing victoriously over Fabio’s body, which lay facedown on the carpet, quite still.

Shaking my head I drew a hand across my brow to wipe off the sweat from fighting.

“What now?” I asked. “Will the souls of the others be free to continue their journey?”

She nodded. “Of course. We will check on them later. But first, come here. There is something I must tell you.”

I drew close, standing on the other side of Giorgio’s body. She gave an alluring smile, that same strange enigmatic light twinkling in her eyes. “I think,” she whispered softly in my ear, her one hand tracing the line of my jaw, “that I know my name now.”

I stared down at her beautiful lips, just waiting to be kissed. “Tell me later,” I smiled.”

Our lips touched, and at the same moment, our eyes met.

They were so beautiful, those otherworldly orbs of pale blue, but it was not their splendour that I saw. It was a paradox, an ancient look of hunger and satisfaction at the same time. In that instant I looked down and saw Giorgio’s gaunt skeletal frame and the wisps of white hair on his head. I was not quick enough – the knives keen edge drew a thin line from my jaw to my ear, and in that moment I knew the horrible truth.

Before I could even raise my hands she was on me, a blur of speed, striking me again and again. In the midst of the rain of blows I realized that this was the end. I was going to die.

At last I fell, stumbling onto the ruins of the bookcase I’d just destroyed. As I lay there, gasping for breath, something dripped from my brow to my arm. Half dazed, I looked down.

Blood.

Red.

I am in that room again. The figure by the window turns and walks forward, blood running down her neck, her mouth open in a soundless cry…

Then I was back, with an icy new resolve, and a rage I had never felt before. I’d been used again. No matter how hard I tried, life always played me the wrong cards, and it seemed that I could trust nothing but my heart’s words. Grunting with pain I seized the closest guard, turning him over, looking for one thing that could save me.

Despite the pain, when my fingers gripped the handle of the gun and dragged it out of its holster, I gave a cold smile.

She stopped, surprised, staring into the barrel of the gun that I pointed at her with shaking hands. I cut see on her hand the cut that she’d made to channel Fabio’s strength. “Changed sides already?” I said through gritted teeth. “Things were just starting to get good.”

“Fool,” she laughed contemptuously. “As if you, a mere pawn in my game, could foil me.”

“Your game?”

“Of course. Giorgio was nothing – a bumbling amateur compared to myself. Thos ghosts certainly were pathetic to be overcome by him. You were simply an added bonus. Not only did you assist me quite nicely, your strong soul will give me even greater power. I am the slayer, and I have lived longer then you could possibly imagine, feeding on others to survive. You have no idea who you face.”

Images of her, lying by my side in the gondola filled my mind, and my finger twitched against the trigger.

“I’m afraid,” I nearly whispered, “that your game comes to an end now. This is the end.”

As my finger tightened on the trigger, she jumped to the side, moving faster then I would have believed possible.

But the bullet was even quicker, ripping into her side and spinning her around. When our eyes met for the last time, I saw for the first time a glimmer of humanity, concealed under decades of bloodlust and cannibalism. I saw…fear…and for a moment I could have sworn regret passed across her face. She had finally realized that her time was truly over.

A second later she fell limp upon the ground, and I dropped the empty gun beside her.

It was finished.

I went to the dead city a few days later to visit the ancient house. The glass still lies shattered in the entrance, and the wind still howls down the upper hallway, but the old manor is at peace, no longer haunted by tormented spectres of past murders.

Despite myself, I miss her. I know I’ll never forget her voice, and that I’ll always treasure the moments we spent together before I knew her for what she was. Perhaps ignorance really is bliss.

I’ll never forget that day, and not just because of the scar that I still bear. All I have to do is look up on a clear morning or whenever storm clouds cover the sky.

Blue.

Justices Edge