Shades of Grey

AUTOMNE DE FLEURE— MARCH 1843

The village courtyard was lit with resplendently colourful lanterns and a band was playing bright uptempo music. The full moon shone overhead and the townspeople were dancing happily. It was perfect upon appearances, save for the lack of children, but I knew to look deeper than the smiling façade. I sensed the presence of Letum and my blood coursed in anticipation.

“Keep calm, Simon is seated near the refreshment table, happily telling his ridiculous tale to anyone who will listen,” Forma told me telepathically.

She roamed the party separately in the form of a young woman who resembled the description that Simon had given of me. It was all part of our plan and thus far, we had met with success. People who had heard Simon speak of the mad Tyrohunter were noticing her and beginning to whisper in suspicion.

“You keep calm as well, you may be required to defend yourself,” I cautioned in response.

“Don’t worry about me.”

I walked over to where Simon was seated and joined a group of curious listeners. Simon looked at me, studying my blonde Pallitus appearance. It looked for a moment as though he knew who I was but if he did, he did not show it.

“And who might you be?” he said in a charming, polite voice. I saw the disgusting look in his eye and I instantly put up my guard.

“Captain Willania Drake,” I replied, politely curtseying.

“Really? Are you a bit of an anchorite?”

“Excuse me?” I said, slightly offended.

“I didn’t see you the other night when I arrived. I felt as though I had met everyone in the village. Are you often so reclusive?”

I gave him a smile, cursing him under my breath.

“I’m afraid that I’m a bit of a heavy sleeper.” I looked down at his bandaged body and easily changed the subject. “Your wounds seem to be healing rather quickly.”

“Yes, thank God. I was afraid Grey Echo had given me a little more than my body could handle.”

“Oh, Simon, you’re so valiant!” swooned three girls behind him. Simon smiled in the chauvinistic, male manner and gave me a revoltingly inviting look.

“Would you like to dance?”

The girls around him looked offended that he had not asked them and walked away in a huff. Though it sickened me, I pretended to be flattered.

“Are you sure you can handle dancing?” I asked, looking down at his bound chest and arms.

“My legs are fine. They are all I need to dance.”

I smiled and then held out my hand, ready to be led to the dancing crowd and he stood up, eager to lead.

“Wow, you look completely disgusted. Try and look as though you are enjoying yourself,” Forma chastised.

“Leave me alone,” I shot back. “Just keep to the plan.”

“So, Captain Drake,” Simon said as the music slowed to a waltz. “Where are you from? You don’t seem like a local.”

“I’m from London,” I said truthfully. “I’m on my way to Rome and I’ve stopped here for a brief rest period. I’m searching for my father.” I was surprised at how convincing my own voice was: I nearly believed myself.

“Searching?” Simon pressed.

“He was taken by Italian pirates while on a whaling mission. I intend to rescue him.”

Evan raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“That’s quite an undertaking for such a beautiful girl.”

I smiled, trying desperately to make it a flattered smile and not one of revulsion. He was underestimating me based on my sex alone. He acted like the sort of man I always felt should be somewhere on the list of Dangerous Creatures.

“He taught me the art of self defence when I was young. He studied in several Asian countries in his youth. He felt it a useful skill and saw fit to teach me.”

“That is a skill not many females see as worthwhile.”

“I am not ‘many females’,” I said suavely, watching his eyes move up and down my form. I tried to summon a flattered smile but I could feel the sneer of revulsion itching to reveal itself on my face. He was two smart remarks away from receiving a real injury from a Hunter…

“Simon!”

All movement and sound in the courtyard ceased as five young boys ran through the crowd and stopped near Simon, the first children I had seen in the village other than Christopher.

“Grey Echo! We’ve spotted her! She’s here in the city!”

Simon’s eyes filled with a strangely severe vehemence as the townspeople began whispering in astonishment.

“Show me,” he said with placid anger.

The boys nodded and Simon ran, convincingly portraying soreness from his false injuries, followed by the entire populace of the village. I walked along, trying to look equally terrified and excited as they did.

The boys then roughly brought Forma, who feigned irritated innocence perfectly, out of the shadows.

“Lâchez-moi! C’est un scandale!’’ Forma protested for the boys to release her and that this was an outrage.

‘’Tais-toi! Nous savons ce que vous avez fait avec Simon!” An older man named Edward St. John shot back in response, rudely telling her to shut up and that they knew what she had done to Simon.

“Qu’est-ce que tu racontes?” Forma asked him what he was talking about with perfect contrived confusion.

“Votre assaut brutale de cet homme sans défense!” Edward accused, shocked that she would deny ‘brutally attacking a defenceless man.’ Through observation of the crowd’s collective mood, it could be concluded that they all believed Forma truly was the insane Grey Echo. It was a strange moment and I ignored the temptation to defend myself.

“Fou!” Someone called Forma crazy from the back of the crowd. The others cheered in agreement.

“Verrouiller au dessus de elle!” cried one of the earlier boys who had approached Simon, urging the citizens to lock her up.

Upon this outburst, several of the men grabbed Forma and tried to drag her away. Forma fought brilliantly, shouting relevant curses and vociferations in French. I smiled proudly under the cloak.

“No!” cried Simon suddenly, silencing the rambunctious agglomeration as he stepped to the front. “I will deal with her, this is a personal matter.”

“Are you sure?” asked the town’s leader, Governor Tristam. “Hunters are strong, even the maddened ones.”

“I’ve faced her once before, this time it is fated that I defeat her.”

Simon nodded to Governor Tristam and he reluctantly stepped back, allowing Simon to face Forma, who looked appropriately terrified.

“Que voulez-vous?” she asked in a small, shaky voice, wanting to know what he wanted.

Simon drew his weapon: a long, spear-like sword filled with an acidic liquid I recognised as a Tranchante, primary weapon of the Letum.

“La vengeance, Chasseur Salir,” he snarled.

My eyes widened. A Chasseur Salir, or a ‘Dirty Hunter’ was the deepest of insults: used to insinuate that the Hunter did not follow the code of Honour we were taught in school, that we simply roamed the lands swinging our weapons at every living thing that crossed our path. My horror at his callousness reached its limit and I felt the need to reveal myself.

In one swift movement, I reached down and pulled off the Pallitus, revealing my true appearance just as Forma changed swiftly into a large lion. The crowd gasped and backed away as I smoothly drew my Flesh Pistol, aiming it at the back of Simon’s head.

“Was it really necessary to attack my rectitude, Leto?” I taunted, cocking the pistol. “I thought affrontation was beneath that of the dead.”

The citizens were understandably nervous now — they did not know how to react to such a shocking revelation. Within twenty-four hours he had managed to charm the entire town while over the past month I had narrowly avoided being thrown out of it.

Simon raised his hands and turned to me, taking in my full persona. He laughed suddenly, throwing his head back in uproarious guffaws.

“You’re the Hunter? Really? You can’t be more than twelve!” he chided. “You probably don’t even know what the word ‘rectitude’ means!”

Forma roared angrily at him for me.

“Actually, I’m eighteen,” I sneered defensively. “And it means ‘moral virtue.’”

“Oh, so that means you’ve...” he paused in thought, ignoring my added comment, “...just gone through your Commencement?” He laughed harder. “How many Creatures have you fought?”

“One Coeur Troll, one Gargouille, one Kraken and six Tyragnon,” I said, jingling my necklace emphatically. He smiled slyly, mildly impressed.

“Well,” he began walking towards me. Forma followed closely behind him, trailing his every move. “I suppose you think you are mighty and powerful now, don’t you? Let’s see how you fare without your own personal Patroclus to protect you!”

Forma growled behind him, smoothly changing into a large, powerful Fire Dragon and blew a long stream of flame into the air in a confidently defiant response to his threat.

“You think you can defeat me?” Simon continued taunting. He shot both his arms out and penetrated the brick wall, inches from either side of my head. I kept my Flesh Pistol aimed just above his lifeless heart.

“Montrez-toi,” he called behind him, beckoning for someone to show themselves.

My eyes never strayed from Simon, but Forma linked her eyes with mine for a split second and I saw to whom he had called.

An army of deformed, translucent Letum ghosts were rising from the ground and herding the citizens of the village towards the city square. A select forty began battling Forma, choking her and blinding her. My defences buckled as I regained my own eyesight. Simon leaned toward me and spoke directly into my ear.

“If you want your Maisling to remain alive, you will not move from this spot. You will let me and my cohorts do as we please with these people. We have been doing so once a month for the last sixty years and one Tyrohunter is not going to stop us now.”