The Red Queen

A few days (and 235 years) later, at the sumptuously gothic building that is now part of Central University, a woman in her mid-forties, wearing a dark blue suit, matching skirt and modestly heeled shoes is rushing out from the reception area, fumbling with her bag. At the same time, an auburn-haired young woman in faded blue jeans, purple t-shirt depicting a rainbow and white trainers is rushing into the reception area, frantically sifting through a pile of papers in her hands. Both women collide into each other, the contents of the older woman’s bag and the papers in the younger woman’s hands spilling everywhere.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry...’ says both women at the same time. Their eyes meet and they burst out laughing.

‘No, seriously...’ starts the older woman, scooping up the younger woman’s papers, ‘...entirely my fault...I should look where I’m going...’.

‘I’m partly to blame...’ the younger woman protests, as they exchange paperwork and bags, ‘...I wasn’t looking either...’.

‘I think that’s everything...’ declares the older woman, ‘...I hate to be rude, but I’ve got to dash...here’s my card...’ she hands over a small white card with “Annie Granger LLB” and the address of an office block, ‘...feel free to call me if we still have each other’s stuff...really must dash, bye!’ and she quickly scuttles out of the lavish building. The younger woman stands for a few moments, watching “Annie” vanish down the street, before she turns to resume her own journey into the University. Her left foot connects with something on the floor. Looking down, the younger woman sees it is a brown purse with silver buckles upon it. Scooping it up, she realises that it is Annie’s. There're a few seconds where the young woman contemplates what to do. Quickly rushing to the reception desk, the young woman dumps the papers she was carrying on the lower portion of the curved counter before chasing after Annie.

It doesn’t take long for the younger woman to catch up with Annie, as she catches sight of her in the car park a few hundred metres from the University. The young woman breathed a sigh of relief that she was able to catch up with Annie before she drove away. Before she can re-unite Annie with her purse, however, she sees a man step out from behind a support pillar as Annie passes it. His back was to the younger woman, but she could see he had short, cropped hair as a soldier would and he was dressed in a neat beige suit with brown shoes. The younger woman decides to wait, and not interrupt the pair of them just yet. Annie seems to be arguing with the man and getting really fired up. The younger woman is spellbound by Annie’s display of bravado and wonders if that’s what she looked like in court, fighting someone’s case. For the first time in a long time, the young woman knew what career path she wanted to take. She wanted to be like Annie; campaigner for justice; defender of the-

Suddenly she was shocked out of her daydream when the man’s hands shot out, grasping Annie by the throat. The attack was so sudden, that she didn’t have time to react or scream. She frantically clawed her fingers at his hands uselessly, as she gulped and gasped for breath. As she felt her life slipping away, she dug her fingernails into his wrists, trying to dislodge him, but his grip was too strong to wriggle out of. Her knees buckled beneath her as she sagged to the ground, kicking her legs and screaming silently, gasping for breath, her eyes wide with fear. She tries to pry the fingers away, but she is slowly losing consciousness. Finally, her hands fell to her side as her energy escaped her, and her entire body went limp. Her assailant continued his grip on her neck for a few moments longer to make sure she wasn’t feigning.

The younger woman, frozen to the spot with shock, suddenly snapped out of it and ran back to the University as fast as she could. Sprinting through the door, she almost collided with Bo, and a man, holding a storage box, coming the other way.

‘Woah...!’ cried Bo, ‘...where’s the fire, Kelly?’.

Kelly stared at Bo with eyes wide with fear and shock.

Bo recognised that look; it’s the same look she had seen from young men before their first battle.

‘Richie, be a love and get us a coffee, would you...?’ Bo absently asked the man she was with, ‘...it looks like Miss Mathews could use one!’. Richie, a tall lean man in his thirties with short, copper-coloured hair and goatee, dressed in a red shirt open at the neck, and black jeans with blue trainers, nodded and vanished into a side room.

‘...I think you’d better sit down and tell me all about it...’ said Bo, leading Kelly over to benches strewn along one of the side walls.

‘She... she’s dead...’ stammered Kelly, ‘...he killed her... right there in front of me...’

‘Who...?’ asked Bo, ‘...who’s dead...?’. Trembling, Kelly passed over the card she had in her hand. Bo’s eyes widened as she recognised the name.

‘She forgot her purse...’ Kelly mumbled, almost robotically, ‘...I went to give it back, but he killed her...’

‘Who killed her...?’ asked Bo, ‘...did you see him...?’

‘Man...’ said Kelly, ‘...in the car park, in a suit. He...’ she mimed with her hands the way the man had strangled Annie, ‘...it was horrible...’. Richie re-appeared with a take-away cup and handed it to Bo, who handed it to Kelly.

‘Is she ok...?’ he asked. Bo stood up and led him away a few feet, out of earshot.

‘She says that she has just seen this woman...’ Bo handed over the card, ‘...get murdered by a man in a car park. Probably the one we use around the corner...’.

Richie frowned at the name on the card.

‘I know this name...’ he said, ‘...wasn’t she just here...?’.

‘Yes, she was...’ confirmed Bo, ‘...she was giving a lecture to some law students. Look, I’ll stay with Kelly if you want to call the cops...’.

‘I’ll call Maria...’ he said, ‘...this is her sort of shit, isn’t it?’.

‘Yes, Richie...’ smiled Bo, ‘...this is her sort of shit...’

Within twenty minutes, the University became a flurry of activity with police swarming all over and red and blue lights illuminating the interior of the former church. Maria appeared, first talking with some other plain-clothed officers before heading over to where Bo was standing.

‘Uniform have scoured the entire car park...’ she began, casting glances to Kelly who was sitting with two female officers in uniform, ‘...and they’ve not found any sign of a struggle, or even Miss Granger’s car. It’s almost like she was never there...!’

‘Maria...’ started Bo, ‘...I know this kid. She wouldn’t make something like this up. She says this woman bumped into her and dropped her purse. She went after her to give it back and saw her killed...’.

‘I know...’ agreed Maria, ‘...we’ve had the purse checked out; drivers' licence, credit cards, club membership cards, they all check out - it really does belong to Miss Annie Granger. Your camera proves Kelly’s story about her dropping the purse, but we can’t find her, or her car. It’s like she just vanished off the face of the Earth...!’

‘Or got wiped from it...!’ Bo added with frustration.

‘Is there somewhere we can talk... privately...?’ said Maria.

‘This way...’ answered Bo, indicating a set of doors behind her, ‘...the room is soundproof...’.

’Do you think one of your... erm... friends, had something to do with it...?’ asked Maria as Bo closed the doors behind them.

‘How would I know? It’s not like we have an Immortal Facebook Group or anything!’

‘No, but... you know...’

‘It’s doubtful, but not impossible...’ Bo replied, ‘...there’s no sense in killing a mortal...’

‘Like Lauren...?’

‘Hmm...’ mused Bo, ‘...but Geller’s gone now. Your head-hunter saw to that...’ Maria’s phone suddenly rang, and she raises a finger as if to say “hold that thought” to Bo before she walks off a little in conversation with whomever is on the other end. By the looks of the expression on her face, Bo surmises that it’s mostly one-sided, and possibly someone simply “keeping her in the loop”.

‘Fucking ass-hole...!’ declared Maria as she hung up the phone.

‘Something wrong, dear...?’ Bo asked sarcastically.

‘Yeah...’ she spat, ‘...FB-fucking-I agent Bertyn!’

‘Bertyn...?’ echoed Bo, '...Andrew Bertyn...?’

‘You know him...?’

‘Why, what’s he done...?’

‘He’s just closed the investigation...’ Maria scowled, ‘... “lack of evidence”, apparently... how do you know him...?’.

‘We’re...’ Bo paused to search for a suitable word, ‘...old friends...’.

‘Holy fuck...!’ exclaimed Maria, '...he’s one of your kind? Does that mean you’ll have to kill him, like Geller...?’

‘Not unless he challenges me...’ replied Bo, ‘...it’s not all about the killing, you know. Talos once told me of an odd memory of a time before he had become a warrior. One spring morning, he had stumbled upon a butterfly on the ground. Its wings had never opened properly, and the fall from its chrysalis had caused its crumpled wings to harden into a wrinkled mass that would never carry it aloft. He remembered taking it to his father, who gave him two options; crush it under his thumb or allow it to live with its disability. He chose the latter, as it wasn’t his place to decide the poor creature’s fate. His father, an immensely strong, brutal warrior, took the butterfly in his massive, bear-like hand and placed it in the flowers with a gentleness that betrayed his size. “You have your mother’s wisdom...” he said “...you will make a wise chieftain one day” ...’.

‘So, what does that mean, then...?’

‘It means...’ started Bo, ‘...that sometimes, you don’t need to kill, just because you can...’

‘So how do you know Bertyn...?’ asked Maria.

‘Well...’ started Bo, ‘...it was in 1881 when I first met him...’