Chapter Three: A Dullahan, a Ghoul, and a Slice of Life

Perry woke up to drumming in his skull.

He was lying across his bed, fully dressed, with several newspaper clippings stuck to his face. He’d spent the entire night trying to make sense of the Sisters’ riddle, going through every newspaper clipping he had about himself and the mysterious second ghoul, Mira Leigh. He hadn’t gotten very far, and apparently, he’d fallen asleep in the middle of his research.

Wincing as the drumming continued, Perry sat up, peeling some of the paper from his face. On the floor, his notebook lay upside down. Turning his head, he managed to read the last thing he’d written before falling asleep.

There was the riddle:

To find the answers the ghoulie seeks:

One hasn’t got far to look!

In the origin place where the dead man sneaks

Lie the answers death took.

Underneath that, he’d written: Origin land? Historical site? Castle?

An idle doodle of Scilti stared out at him from the page.

The drumming on the inside of his skull, as it turned out, was not his imagination. Jarvia Knot stood at the foot of his bed, holding a saucepan and a wooden spoon. She smashed the spoon against the back of the pan, as loud and insistent as a child vying for a parent's attention.

“Ugh, Christ, stop,” Perry groaned, sitting up- in his bed and rubbing at his eyes. “Jarvia, stop. What time is it? What are you even doing in my room?”

“Time to get up!” cried Jarvia, which was really not a very sufficient answer to his question.

He stared at her suspiciously, and snatched up his father's cheap wristwatch from where he left it on the bedside table. The watch hadn't been buried with him, just as the rest of his parents' belongings hadn't. Jarvia had acquired his father's coat, boots, watch, and his mother's scarf a few weeks after Perry had moved into the apartment. He really didn't want to know how. Even so, he appreciated it. For the entire year since his rising, he'd kept the items close. They were small comforts in an otherwise chaotic world.

His mind was preoccupied, and so it took Perry a moment to register the time. His heart dropped to his stomach when he saw it.

“Holy s**t,” he said. He stared up at her, wide-eyed. “Four. Thirty. In. The morning.”

“Congratulations!” said Jarvia. “You can read the time. Well done. Always knew you could do it.”

“Why are you in such a good mood?” sighed Perry, covering his eyes with a single hand. “Did we win the lottery?”

It was always a we these days. When Perry had first come to live here with Jarvia, they’d been constantly, completely separate. Perry locked himself away in his room; Jarvia locked herself away with her clients. It went on like that for an entire month, until finally he decided socialising would benefit him more than living with a stranger. Now, it was a normal occurrence to find her storming into his bedroom to tell him something. Well, not completely. The four-thirty wake-up was new, and extremely unappreciated.

“We didn’t win the lottery. Why would we need to? Living for over two thousand years gives your savings account crazy amounts of interest,” said Jarvia, grinning. “I just so happen to be very humble.”

This was, of course, entirely untrue. She owned houses all over the country, and this apartment hadn’t been cheap. Jarvia just loved to live the extravagant life.

Then again, he had a funny feeling a lot of her money went towards other things, such as charities. Not that she’d ever admit that. Jarvia Knot had a reputation of wealthy arrogance to uphold, and she wasn’t going to let decisions of the conscience ruin that.

“Get up!” cried Jarvia, banging the saucepan again. “I need you out of bed and dressed. Now! Hurry up, poppet: we’ve got too much to do.”

“Why?” he groaned, falling back in the bed and pressing a pillow over his face. Perhaps if he suffocated himself, she’d go away. “I'm too old.”

Jarvia threw the saucepan down so she could cross her arms. Briefly, Perry wondered at the inconvenience of the saucepan getting in the way of her drama.

He sighed at Jarvia. Her eyebrow was raised; her smirk was in place. A year had passed since she'd first found him, and yet, she hadn't changed at all. “I’ve got a lead, darling ghoul. I’ve found the answer.”

“The answer?” he repeated. The realisation dawned on him. “The riddle.”

She nodded. Immediately, he threw himself out of bed, leaving no time to drag a brush through his hair. That could wait. He had more important things to worry about.

Jarvia Knot was already standing in the kitchen by the time Perry emerged from his bedroom, his hair fluffy and eyes bloodshot with sleep.

The room had been Jarvia's guest room. When he first moved in, he decorated the walls with newspaper clippings involving his murder, and of course, sketches. Sketches of his mother. Sketches of the village where he’d grown up. Sketches of Mag Mell and the coy Scilti. The only person missing from his sketches was his boyfriend. Perry could no longer remember his face, and a small part of him was glad. The last time they'd been together, Tobias had been moving to America with his family. A year later, all contact had ceased, and Perry was dead. Even if Perry wanted to remember him, he wouldn't. The dead land did things to his memory, until only certain fragments remained. It had taken a lot of guess work to remember his own parents.

Jarvia didn't ask about the dead land. Perhaps she sensed that it was a touchy subject; perhaps she knew he disliked interrogations. She respected his privacy, and he respected hers. It was the only rule in the apartment.

“Goooood morning, darling.” Jarvia spun around dramatically, almost spilling an entire, scalding cup of coffee on him. He scowled, but it lasted only for a moment as she passed the mug to him. The key to Perry’s happiness was coffee. Lots of it. It was part of the reason he and Jarvia got along so well; they could bond over shocking amounts of caffeine.

“Is it?” he muttered. Then, immediately: “What's the lead?”

“A thing you use to take out your dog.”

“Jarvia.”

She beamed at him. She was in an irritatingly good mood this morning. He could tell from the glint in her eyes, and the way she was buzzing around the room, that she'd pulled an all-nighter; she probably had fifty energy drinks in her system. Perry himself was banned from energy drinks. Never again, Jarvia always said.

Perry leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping at the coffee and immediately wrinkling his nose at it. Jarvia had put sugar in it again.

“So?” he said, trying to ignore the sweet taste in his mouth.

She continued to smile. Somehow, Jarvia’s smile could look simultaneously childish and ancient, happy and sad, manic and normal. He supposed it had something to do with her age. If someone lived for over two thousand years, why would they be limited to one emotion at a given time? Why not all of them?

“I got a phone call this morning,” Jarvia said, “from a potential client. A woman named Mallid.”

“Mallid,” repeated Perry. When Jarvia simply nodded, he raised an eyebrow. “That isn’t a normal name, Jarvia.”

“It’s not a human name,” she corrected. “It is, however, a normal name for a dullahan.”

“A dullahan.”

“That’s right. I’m glad your ears are still working, my dear.” He sighed, rolled his eyes, and took another sip of the sweet coffee. There was no point in arguing with Jarvia. “Anyway, as I was saying before I got very rudely interrupted, a woman named Mallid phoned me about our little ghoul dilemma this morning. She believes she has the answer. The Sisters told us ‘the answers’ lie in ‘the origin place’. Well, Mallid claims to know where this origin place is. And she plans to tell us.”

He frowned. This was good news. Obviously, he wanted to figure out the riddle from Ayri and Noz. Then again, it sounded slightly suspicious. A dullahan, randomly phoning Jarvia the morning after they’d come close to finding another answer. A dullahan, somehow knowledgeable about the rising of ghouls all over the country. A dullahan, who somehow knew the contents of the Sisters’ riddle. It sounded too good to be true. Too coincidental to be honest.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Jarvia, immediately reading the frown on his face. She’d learned to read him like a book, and vice versa. After living for a year together, the only ghoul and the last witch, they’d come to understand each other nicely. “It sounds suspicious. But I genuinely believe this dullahan has the answer.”

“Why?” he asked, putting his mug down so he could cross his arms.

“Because,” Jarvia shrugged, “dullahan can’t lie. Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t know that.”

“Yes you do. I just told you. Look, Perry. I think Mallid’s telling the truth. I know we can’t work out this goddamned riddle. And I reckon we should go and meet up with her and see what she has to say.”

Perry continued to frown. “I’m not sure,” he said. “How did she even find out about this? About us?”

Jarvia stared at him. Slowly, she pointed to the front door, which was very obviously in sight from the kitchen. “We have a sign.”

They did, in fact, have a sign. It was a rude sign, simply saying: THE GREAT JARVIA KNOT. IF YOU HAVEN’T HEARD OF HER, SHE’S PROBABLY TOO GOOD FOR YOU, and to anyone in the supernatural community, it was obviously a business sign for the last surviving witch. It didn’t take a genius to work it out.

Jarvia had a point.

“Don’t be paranoid,” she warned. “Once you fall down that hole, there’s no escape. Being trusting isn’t a bad thing, kid. And I’ll be right by your side if anything goes tits up.”

Perry sighed, running a hand over his face. “OK,” he relented. “OK, let’s meet her.”

Jarvia grinned. “I knew you’d see reason. Get your coat, ghoulie. We’re going out.”

“This,” he muttered, “is going to be a disaster.”

 

~

 

They met Mallid in a cafe on main street. The cafe was called Slice of Life (“Ah! You’ll fit right in!” said Jarvia. In response, Perry stuck out his tongue), and from the looks of things, it wasn’t the most popular of places. As they stepped inside, assaulted with the scent of coffee and oranges, they noticed that only four out of the fifteen tables were filled with people, and most of these people looked very miserable indeed. In the very corner of the room sat a woman, the only person alone.

Immediately, Perry knew this was Mallid. She seemed ordinary on first glance. Medium height, with brown eyes only slightly darker than Perry’s and hair that swept to her waist. On closer inspection, however, he could see the telltale signs that this was a supernatural being. Across her throat was a strange, thin scar, almost as though someone had beheaded her and sewn her head back on. Her fingernails were not nails at all, but claws. As Perry continued to stare, he realised that though her eyes seemed normal, the whites were not whites at all, but red. That was definitely strange.

Perry glanced at Jarvia, and Jarvia glanced at Perry. They both knew their target. Ignoring the stares of everyone in the cafe, the two of them approached Mallid without any qualms, motioning silently towards the seats. Mallid nodded.

As they sat, Perry realised that, up close, Mallid looked even stranger. Her skin looked almost leathery, and her cheeks were so hollow, he was reminded of the Sisters at the South Keep, or skeletons ageing in the soil. She seemed calm, but there was an odd, buzzing energy about her. It took Perry a moment to identify this energy as anticipatory. She was waiting for something. For what? Them? But they’d already arrived.

His skin crawled.

“Knot and Azur?” said Mallid. Her voice was a low growl. It was the sort of voice Perry could imagine a particularly grumpy cat having. “You look younger than I expected.”

She was looking at Perry. Of course she was. In the past year, Jarvia had met up with hundreds of clients, dragging Perry along with her. He was always the source of curiosity. Interest, too, sometimes. One of Jarvia’s younger clients, a nineteen-year-old named Alice, had developed such a strong and strange crush on Perry that she’d even been so brave as to ask him out on a date.

Perry, of course, had been absolutely horrified. Jarvia still wouldn’t let him live it down.

“Never mind him,” said Jarvia now. She leaned over the table, eyes alight with a familiar, excitable fire. She loved the mystery. She loved the game. All of this was a part of a life she’d fought, tooth and claw, to gain, and she wasn’t going to let her enjoyment slip through her spidery fingers. “We’re here about the answers you claim to have.”

Mallid raised a single, thin eyebrow. She glanced around the room, eyes furtively darting from person to person. There weren’t many people in the room; Perry had already noticed. But every single person who was in the room was staring at them.

“Not here,” said Mallid. “There are people watching me. I can’t risk them hearing.”

Jarvia didn’t look at the staring witnesses, but Perry knew she could see them. That was the strange thing about Jarvia. She often seemed oblivious, but by the time he’d noticed one thing, she’d noticed a million.

“Yes. They do seem rather interested, don’t they?” said Jarvia.

“You asked us here,” Perry pointed out. “If you didn’t think this place was safe, why send us here?”

“Because,” hissed Mallid, “I didn’t know they’d be here. See that woman over there?”

She made a minuscule motion with her head. Perry turned. A woman, three tables away, was sitting and staring into her cup of coffee. Or at least, it seemed that she was. But her breathing was too slow; her chest did not move. Her stare was too unblinking and intense as she stared at her coffee. Her hands were tight around the mug. The mug itself was shaking in her delicate hands.

She seemed to be watching her drink. Instead, she was watching them.

Perry turned back to Mallid, then to Jarvia. Jarvia nodded at him. He translated it as: I saw. She’s telling the truth.

“OK,” said Perry. He didn’t lower his voice, and made sure to keep his shoulders relaxed. He had to control his body language. “We’ll go somewhere else, then.”

“Good idea,” said Jarvia, nodding approvingly.

“I know just the place,” Mallid murmured. “Follow me. But move naturally. I don’t want them to follow us.”

As they stood, one by one, Perry couldn’t help but feel like every single eye was on him. Nobody moved to stop them. Nobody even looked at them. But the creepy, intense stares, directed at coffees and teas and newspapers, were too unnerving to ignore. It was as though everyone in the room had been completely frozen. He, Jarvia and Mallid were the only living people here.

Which was ironic, given Perry’s situation.

Mallid moved towards the door first. At the sound of the bell as she opened it, Mallid flinched violently, letting out a sudden gasp. Jarvia and Perry exchanged a glance.

“So much for moving naturally,” muttered Perry.

Jarvia smirked.

Mallid said not a word as she led them through the streets. She moved so fast, Perry and Jarvia often had to jog to keep up, neither able to take their surroundings in. They dove down alleys, they swerved past cars, they pushed through crowds of angry commuters. A few times, Perry attempted to slow down so that he could see some landmarks, just in case. A bakery named Fiona’s; a sign pointing towards a car park; a beach shop with bright pink khakis in the window. They were all he managed to see, because Mallid kept moving. She never stopped, never slowed. She turned down an alleyway, and then, finally, she stopped.

She’d stopped in front of a tiny building. From the outside, it looked almost like a castle. There were fake little turrets leading up from the building, and the windows were tall and narrow. Through them, Perry could see nothing but darkness. It reminded Perry of a cheap tourist shop on holiday: the sort which sold pirate keychains and hats.

“In here!” said Mallid.

Perry scoffed. “You want us to walk in there? Voluntarily? This is a classic setting for a murder. And as I’ve already been murdered, I’m not too eager to repeat the experience.”

Jarvia nodded, her eyes glinting with what looked like suspicion. “You lead us as far from civilisation as you can, as fast as you can, and expect us to enter a strange place in the middle of an alleyway? No can do, darling.”

“No can do,” Perry repeated, nodding along with her.

Mallid stared between them. Standing, she was shorter than Perry had expected. Or maybe she was average. He and Jarvia were, as his friend Kaylie liked to say, “freakishly tall”. An advantage of being “freakishly tall” was simply that Mallid did not look threatening by drawing herself up to her full height.

She glowered at the two of them, eyes flickering from Jarvia’s face to Perry’s. They were stubborn twins, standing with their arms crossed, expressions unrelenting. Perry hoped they looked intimidating, although he personally saw nothing intimidating in a dead teenage boy and his catty witch friend.

Mallid relented with a sigh. “Fine. I will go in first. Will you follow me then?” she asked. She sounded reasonable, but Perry could see a strange, almost hungry expression in her face. He recognised the hunger. Recognised the need.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention.

Before either of them replied, Mallid turned and stormed into the building, ignoring the way the door creaked as she did so. Jarvia and Perry stared at the door, at the building, at each other. Neither was sure of what to do, which was worrying. Jarvia Knot always had a plan. The fact that she didn’t now was unnerving.

“Ladies first?” Perry suggested.

“Such a gentleman!” gasped Jarvia, grabbing him by the shoulders. “You’re right. Ladies first!”

She shoved him in, following close behind.

The first thing Perry noticed about the room was that it was surprisingly bright. The white tiles on the floor were glowing, and as he looked up, he could see that there were a total of five spotlights directed at him. The walls, too, were a blinding white colour. He rather felt as though he’d accidentally walked onto a stage.

There was nobody inside the building. Mallid had vanished.

Jarvia appeared behind him. He flinched when the door shut behind her, staring at her with wide eyes as she, too, took in their surroundings. She stared at the walls, at the floor, at the spotlights above them. She noticed the lack of people. She noticed the fact that, on the inside, there were no windows and no other doors. She noticed that they were quite probably trapped here.

And she said, with the eloquence of an ancient queen, “Well, s**t.”

“I can think of stronger words,” said Perry.

The two of them stepped into the room, staring around them. Perry wondered whether there was an exit above the spotlights. They wouldn’t be able to see it, and how else would Mallid simply disappear? There was the door behind them, too. He made sure to take a mental note of these exits. He had a feeling he’d need it.

As the two of them looked around, Perry became aware of a strange, near-indescribable feeling flowing through his body. He’d stepped onto one of the white tiles on the floor, and suddenly, a horrible tranquillity settled over him. He stopped. Jarvia stopped, too, frowning down at the ground as though trying to work out where she was. He knew how she felt.

Suddenly, nothing else seemed to matter. A fuzzy calm cloaked his mind. His body was still and relaxed; his heartbeat had settled down to a slow, steady contrast to its racing beat a few moments ago. The tenseness left his shoulders. His muscles loosened, and his face was clear of all expression, his voice clear of all inflection as he murmured, “What’s going on?”

He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand where they were, why they were here, what they were doing. The last thing he remembered, he’d been at home with Jarvia, watching one of her favourite awful horror movies. Now, he was here, still with her, but in an unfamiliar place. He had no memory of coming here. He had no memory of why.

He’d forgotten everything within the last week.

“What the hell?” said Jarvia.

He glanced at her, blinking rapidly. She looked just as confused as he did, if not more. That was something, at least. Jarvia Knot was the most perceptive person Perry had ever met; if she was taken aback by something, it gave him more than a reasonable excuse to feel the same.

“I don’t know,” said Perry. He felt strangely panicked. There was something at the very back of his mind, warning him against this situation. Something was wrong, but he had no idea what. They were here for a reason. They’d come here because of…because of what? Why were they here? What was important about the situation?

“Are you OK?” asked Jarvia.

Perry blinked again. He must have looked surprised. Confused. Upset. All of the above. He couldn’t breathe.

“Y-yeah,” he lied through his teeth.

She saw through it, but didn’t comment. Jarvia knew him better than anyone. She knew about his anxieties, his worries, his concerns. She knew his quirks and nervous ticks. At this present moment, he knew he was giving away at least four signs that he was not OK. He could turn them into a list.

1. His whole body was shaking.

2. His skin was covered in purple blotches, a clear sign that his ghoulish instincts were beginning to kick in.

3. He was having a hard time breathing.

4. His eyes stared blankly into the distance, vague and vacant.

He turned suddenly. The movement made Jarvia flinch; she clearly hadn’t been expecting it. Perry turned to the door, grabbing the knob and trying desperately to open it.

The door was locked.

He tried not to panic. Instead, he took a few steps back and ran towards the door, ramming his shoulder into the hard oak. A numbed pain flared on his arm, but it didn’t stop him. He did it again. And again. And again, until he could no longer feel his arm at all.

Until: “Kid, you’re going to dislocate your arm. Calm down.”

“Calm down?” he repeated, spinning round to face Jarvia with wide eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on! I’ve forgotten how we even got here, and we’re trapped in a weird room with no exits around us! How can I calm down about that?”
The purple blotches on his skin grew more and more pronounced. He was beginning to look less like a human boy, and more like a monster; a zombie; a ghoul.

Jarvia didn’t seem too concerned about this. She’d seen him in this state a thousand times before, and she’d seen him in worse states. She knew him inside out, which was suddenly irrationally irritating; he wanted her to be afraid, or to get angry, or to tell him he was stupid. At least then he could counter it. Anger felt better when it was excusable.

“I don’t like this,” he muttered. He began to pace, raking his hands through his black curls, his heart racing uncomfortably in his chest. Every patch of his skin seemed to be burning. He could feel sweat dripping down his spine. “I don’t like this at all.”

“Really?” deadpanned Jarvia. “And here I thought you were having the time of your life.”

He couldn’t reply. He felt mildly sick. He was reminded, horrifically, of his waking one year ago. Of being trapped in the dark. Only now, he was trapped in the brightest room in existence.

“We need to get out,” he said. “We need to get out now.”

“Perry,” Jarvia said. She had her Relax, take it easy voice on. It made Perry’s skin crawl with annoyance. “Calm down. We’re going to be OK. For all we know, we’re being brought here for a surprise birthday party.”

She was trying to distract him. It wasn’t working.

“My birthday’s in November,” he said. He was still struggling to breathe. He tried to take deep breaths, closing his eyes to try and focus.

“Well, maybe it’s an early surprise birthday party.”

“Two months early?” he asked, opening his eyes.

Jarvia didn’t answer. She simply stared at him, gesturing to his eyes. “You need to calm down,” she said again. “It’s starting to show.”

Around his eyes were tiny cracks in his skin, as though he was a breaking statue in a park. It was another effect of his nature as a ghoul: another sign his instincts were kicking in. That wasn’t good. He wasn’t able to control it, or himself.

Trying to bite back a scream, he turned back to the door, pushing himself against it again, as hard as he possibly could. He could feel the hysteria rising in his throat. He grabbed at his head, gasping for breath that was not there. It was as though he was falling into pieces and had to hold himself together.

“Perry,” Jarvia said again. “Perry, stop.”

It took him a moment to realise what she was asking him to stop doing. He looked up to find Jarvia staring back at him, panting and running a hand over her head, her skin glistening with sweat. She looked like she was about to be violently sick.

He realised what had happened.

Life-absorption. It was one of the only abilities he, as the only modern ghoul, shared with the ancient ghouls. The power to drain someone of all their energy, an ability completely out of Perry’s control. It only happened when he panicked. His instincts forced him to search for external forces of energy, just in case he needed to defend himself.

And he’d done it now. He didn’t know where they were or why, and he was panicking to the point of life-absorption. He was stealing all of Jarvia’s energy, and he didn’t even realise it.

A witch’s energy, he knew, was different to a normal human’s. Witches’ magic came from their energy. If an external force was taking it as well as their magic using it, they were completely helpless. It was part of the reason the ghouls in ancient times had been so dangerous to witches in particular. Putting the last ghoul and last witch in a room, trapping them there, and allowing panic to spread, was not only cruel. It was undoubtedly deliberate.

“Stop,” Jarvia gasped again. “Stop.”

But he wasn’t paying attention. Deliberate. This was deliberate.

He remembered.

“Mallid,” he said. “The ghouls. Jarvia, I remember. I remember.”

“That’s great,” she replied, giving him a sarcastic thumbs up. “Dying here.”

He nodded, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths. They key, he thought, is not panicking. The key is staying calm. He tried to find his happy place. Mag Mell, under the tree by the large blue lake, stealing glances at Scilti in the light of the moon. Happy things, happy things. He thought of Christopher sneaking him food when Isaac stole his lunch at school. Happy things, happy things. He thought of his mother wrapping him up in blankets, in one of her good moods, but not too manic, sitting beside him and reading her favourite stories as though he was a child. Happy things, happy things.

He opened his eyes again, looked at the door. This time, when he pushed it, he didn’t do so out of panic and terror. He did so out of concern for Jarvia, and a need to do something good.

The door opened.

Perry turned to Jarvia, who had straightened up, still clutching at her head.

“Are you OK?” he asked her.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, kid,” she muttered. “Just peachy.”

He reached out, gently squeezing her arm. Jarvia wasn’t a very physical person. She wasn’t the sort for hugs and hands; she was rather like him in that way. But the small gestures were ones Jarvia appreciated, and he didn’t know how else to comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Don’t worry,” she replied, smiling. It was a genuine smile, which was rare for Jarvia. Usually, her smiles were made up of sarcasm and disappointment. So was she. “Hey. Don’t you dare fuss over me. That’s my job.”

The two of them walked out of the room, and as soon as they stepped outside, Jarvia pulled a face. Perry read it immediately. She’d remembered now, too. The memories they’d suddenly forgotten had been returned to them. For Perry, it was because of his ghoulish instincts kicking in. For Jarvia, it was just leaving the room.

Jarvia winced, just for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Deliberate attempt to make us kill each other?” Perry suggested.

“You got it.”

They glanced at each other. Jarvia had an all too familiar glint in her eyes. She only ever got that glint when she was either excited or angry. This time, it seemed to be a bit of both, which was more terrifying than any strange, memory-taking room.

“But why?” asked Perry. “What was the point of that? What did the spotlights do?”

Jarvia shook her head. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, it’s bad. I think I can name about ten dark rituals involving spotlights and weird memory-loss tiles.”

Just as he was about to inquire as to what these rituals were, Perry noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He turned, just in time to catch the unmistakable form of Mallid fleeing down the alleyway.

In her hand, she carried Perry’s scarf.

He hadn’t recovered all memories, it seemed, because he certainly didn’t remember her taking that from him.

“That’s my mother’s,” he growled.

“And are you just going to let her take it?” said Jarvia.

Perry peered after Mallid, who was now much further away than a moment ago. Doubtfully, he said, “She’s fast.”

But Jarvia’s face was glowing with the challenge. Her posture was already tense with anticipation.

“Not fast enough,” she growled.

Before Perry could protest, she grabbed him by the wrist and started running.

Author's Note

This chapter was immensely difficult to write, so I hope it makes sense.
I feel like it's really messy, what with there being three different scenes within one chapter. What do you think?
Thanks for reading!