Annie and Connor raced through the Millpoint streets, cutting as straight a path to the wind turbine as possible by darting through alleyways, hopping fences, and bolting through a few front yards. They made it to the turbine in what must have been record time, if Millpoint's residents had ever bothered recording the fastest times one could sprint through town. Winded and frantic, the duo took a moment to catch their breath at the bottom of the steps leading to the door.
"Gosh you run fast Annie," Connor panted, "You did some nice work back there, I didn't know you were such a skilled swordswoman! It was like you knew exactly what they'd do before they did it!"
"It's not hard to read them, I know how Seraphs are trained to fight." Annie said between breaths, "Between that and the mind control, those Seraphs couldn't do anything that would surprise me."
"What do you mean?"
Annie threaded her fingers together and stretched to one side and then the other, "Mental magic that takes direct control of a person relies on muscle memory when fighting. It doesn't allow for the sort of flexibility or creativity you need to actually fight well." Something caught her eye next to the shield generator, "Shit."
Connor followed her gaze and saw a rickety old hand truck parked next to the generator, "Didn't you leave that at the motel?" he asked.
"I did." They looked at each other and then bolted up the steps, taking two at a time and throwing themselves at the iron door to haul it open; only to find it already ajar.
"Lorena!" Connor called as Annie ducked inside, the Paladin following close behind. The interior looked exactly as they'd left it, metal walls and wood panel flooring undisturbed and the central turbine shaft twisting steadily to the tune of the machinery's hum.
"About time the two of you showed up, I was beginning to worry you'd never get here!" Sheriff Not-Jed waved at them. He was spread languidly on the couch, arms propped up along its back and one leg crossed over the other, “I’m pleased we can finally meet, Ms. Flynn. Or is it Lady Herald?”
Annie's pistol was leveled at him in a flash, hammer cocked and bullet waiting.
"Ah ah ah," Not-Jed waggled his finger, "I'd rethink that if I were you. We wouldn't want anything to happen to poor Lorena, now would we?"
Annie and Connor looked towards the sound of footsteps coming going the stairs. Lorena was coming down them with her hands cuffed behind her back and Jaigra close behind her. The Seraph had one of her pistols leveled at the mechanic's temple. Annie glared at the phony sheriff and then lowered her gun.
“Attagirl!” Not-Jed rose to his feet, “See? We can all be reasonable about this, can’t we? You don’t shoot me, your girlfriend here doesn’t shoot Lorena, everybody wins!”
Annie spat in his direction, “How long are you going to keep wearing that stupid glamour? Seems inappropriate, since you’re already so familiar with me.”
Not-Jed brushed off his shirt and rose to his feet, “That’s fair enough. It’s only natural you’d want to see the face of the man who’s paying you.” He pulled off the tin star on his maroon vest and the glamour fell away from him like falling sand.
Standing in Not-Jed’s place was a lanky man roughly the former Sheriff’s height, adorned with a velvet tricorn hat sporting a plush green feather pinned to a plated silver brooch on the brim of the hat that vaguely resembled a disco ball. He wore an elaborately velvet jacket embroidered with golden trim and long curled coattails over white button shirt and cravat wrapped with a deep green sash. His tights and frilly curled shoes with their shiny buckles vaguely reminded Annie of a jester. The whole ensemble would be comical if it weren’t for one thing the Stranger couldn't take her eyes off of.
His face was pale and angular, and he had pale grey eyes that watched her like a predator awaiting its moment to strike. But the thing that unsettled her the most was his mouth. A thin line of scar tissue traced the ridge of his nose and along his cheekbones but, instead of skin beneath the scar, it was a porcelain white mask.
It matched his angular face and carved cheekbones, shaped to match what his jaw may have once been. Every detail of it led her eye to the carved facsimile of a mouth that rested in its center, twisted in the impression of a smile. The lips that cracked the smooth porcelain of the mask were thin but full, and there was slight hint of teeth that suggested a mouth full of razors. No matter how the man’s expression twisted and changed, that serene and playful grin remained below his piercing grey eyes.
“Call me Grinner,” the man said with a wink and a theatrical bow, “It’s my stage name.”
Annie hid her unease with a sneer, “Stage name? What, too scared to give me your actual name?”
Grinner’s eyes creased as if he were smiling, “It’s against the nature of a saboteur to reveal too much of himself. Truth be told I’ve quite forgotten it, downside of wearing a few too many faces. But Grinner,” he traced his finger along the jaw of his mask, “Is quite easy to remember.”
Annie shuddered, “What do we do now, Grinner? You have us both at something of a stalemate.”
“I really do, don’t I?” Grinner rested his chin in his hand and traces a finger across the mask’s white lips, “You’ve caused me a great deal of trouble, Stranger. My patrons in Partee are quite furious with you.”
“Perks of the job.” Annie smiled in a way that showed all of her teeth.
Grinner’s smile vanished from his eyes, “Indeed. What am I to do with you Ms. Flynn?” he paced across the room, coming to a stop near Jaigra and draped his arm over her as if she were a piece of furniture.
”Hey!” Annie took a step forward.
“Careful!” Grinner flicked a finger and Jaigra pushed her gun hard against the mechanic’s temple.
Annie froze and then raised her hands level with her shoulders, “Alright, alright. Just… Just don’t hurt either of them.”
Grinner laughed. It bubbled up from his throat in an unrestrained manic giggle that ended in a sudden ragged cough that doubled the man over.
He whipped his head up, “Hurt them? My dear I’m going to keep them! One of them at least. Why would I ever give up my new favorite knight?” he twirled his finger in a loose lock of Jaigra’s hair.
Violet light sparked from Annie’s fingertips and she clenched her fist to snuff them out, “Grinner…” she said warningly.
“Oooh, look at the light show! So scary!” Grinner leaned back draped a hand across his forehead, before meeting Annie’s eye, “Behave yourself, Stranger. I’m holding all the cards.”
Annie growled in frustration. He was right, she couldn’t do anything right now without putting Lorena or Jaigra in danger. Maybe she could get him talking.
“How much is Partee paying you for this? This can’t be the sort of stage you’re used to, way out here in this little nowhere town.” Annie prodded.
Grinner abandoned Jaigra’s lock of hair to put his hands on his hips, “Life’s a stage dear Stranger, especially for players such as we. One would think the Empress’ Herald would be familiar with the idea.”
Annie glanced over her shoulder at Connor, then back to the magician, “Seems like you know quite a bit about me.” she said.
“You have quite the interesting tale my dear! One our dear Lady Vrath was all too eager to share with me!” Grinner laughed.
She couldn’t help but look at the Seraph. Her face was a stoic sort of placid, completely expressionless save for a small twitch of her lips. Her eyes had the same vacant glassy eyed stare that reminded Annie of a taxidermy animal. Annie shuddered.
“Admiring my work?” Grinner stepped in front of her, “It took quite a bit of effort to come up with this spell, you know.” He twisted the plain metal band on his finger.
“Your Arcanum.” There was a cold and analytical part of Annie that was impressed. Bending the will of living creatures indeed took a great deal of work, any magician capable of the feat must possess a great deal of skill indeed.
“Yes!” he clapped, “No one ever gets the chance to really appreciate it, you know? They usually end up, well you know…” He drew a finger across his throat and made a choking sound.
“Such a shame.” Annie laid the sarcasm on thick.
“Yes, well, I’m sure such a famous magician as yourself could appreciate my masterwork for what it is!”
“Famous magician?” Connor asked.
Grinner let out a delighted laugh, “Ms. Flynn! Have you not told our dear Deputy Kenton? For shame my dear! For shame!”
Connor looked to the Stranger, “Annie, what does he mean?”
“Connor—”
“Poor Deputy!” Grinner interjected, “Lady Vrath, would you be a doll and tell the Paladin what you told me about Ms. Flynn?” he waved a nonchalant hand towards her.
Jaigra’s jaw began to move mechanically, “Andromeda Flynn is the former Herald of the Divine Empress of the Therult Imperium. She has spearheaded numerous expansion campaigns in service to the Empress, killing many enemies of the Imperium including Union soldiers and civilians. The Herald is considered one of the most powerful of the Amaryll Lords and is widely held to be the most dangerous magician in Therult.”
Grinner put a mischievous hand over his porcelain lips, “Oh my! Deputy you should have told me we had such a celebrity in our midst!”
“I’m not that person anymore!” The words felt hollow as they left Annie’s lips.
Annie turned to look at the Paladin and felt an iron grip clamp down on her shoulder and shove her down on her knees with overwhelming strength. She tried to turn but she was held fast in place.
”Connor!” she shouted.
“Our dear Deputy isn’t available right now,” Grinner was cast in golden light shining from behind Annie, “Besides, a righteous Paladin like him shouldn’t be fraternizing with someone on the Union’s most wanted list.” The blade of a sword was pressed against Annie’s throat.
Grinner’s voice took on an officious tone, “The Union’s stance on criminals of your stature is very clear. Execution in accordance with the law, I believe.” He mimed banging a gavel.
Time seemed to slow as the blade began to bite into Annie’s throat. She couldn’t break the grip, couldn’t stop the blade. What could she do? Flashes of Grinner’s victims flickered in her mind, their throats severed down to the bone. Annie couldn’t let that happen to her. Threads of magic started to drip from her fingers.
There was no time for anything else.
A twist of her fingers flooded the room with violet light as Annie called her magic. The air bled around them like smeared paint and the sword’s steel sparked against her skin as if it were scraping stone. The room filled with a piercing wail as reality tore open.
Annie drew her pistol and pointed it behind her, firing it directly into her captor’s chest. The sword slipped from her throat and Annie rolled away, flicking her fingers towards Grinner and his puppets. A violet thread appeared around Lorena’s waist and yanked her towards Annie and out of Jaigra’s grip. The Stranger grabbed Lorena’s hand and dragged her stumbling out the exterior door.
Annie and Lorena tumbled down the stairs and into the dirt. Annie was pretty sure she felt something crunch on the way down.
“What— what was that?” Lorena mumbled drunkenly.
“Iron blood invocation, hold still.” Annie touched her fingers to her now bloody lip and dabbed some blood against the mechanic’s temple.
Lorena gasped and threw her head backward, “Fuck!” she shouted.
“Yeah, yeah, thank me later. Now run!” Annie shoved Lorena and sent her careening away from her towards the town. The Stranger glanced around for her gun and spotted it over by the shield generator, she immediately started scrambling across the dirt towards it.
“You surprise me Ms. Flynn!” Grinner’s singsong voice called from the top of the stairs, “Ripping open the Veil just to save your own skin? I didn’t think you had it in you!”
There was a thud next to Annie and she ducked just in time to avoid the strike of a sword towards her head.
She whirled to face her assailant, preparing herself for whatever demonic warrior Grinner had conjured for himself. Instead she found herself staring down Connor Kenton Junior. His sword was drawn, his Icon shone with brilliant golden light behind him, and his eyes were vacant and glassy. Just like a doll’s.
