The Red Queen

Half an hour later, Bo is standing in the middle of a bridge spanning a river in a sprawling park. She is staring out over the water, completely disregarding the leering looks from some of the young men passing by her as they run their eyes up and down her slim figure, taking in every curve of her figure-hugging black dress. She stiffens as she feels the familiar tremor in the air and looks to her right. Although she sees him, she turns back to the water stretched out in front of her.

‘Well, helloooo there...’ utters Talos as he sidles alongside her, '...how you dooo-in...?’ he finishes in his best “Joey from friends” impersonation, leaning back on the wall of the bridge, his long hair dangling over the edge. Bo shot him an unamused glance. He was grinning like a mad man up at her.

Suddenly she burst out laughing.

‘What are you doing...?’ she asked, ‘...get up you fool, before you embarrass yourself’.

She knew that would never happen - Talos never got embarrassed by anything.

‘Ah divne wan’ te...’ he purred, ‘...yer a bonnie wee thing, do ye ken tha’...?’.

‘Talos, this is serious...’ Bo scolded. Talos clasped his hands to either side of his face in a comedic “shocked” expression.

’Ye’ve finally succumbed to my... irresistible charm..?’ he started, before suddenly springing up, ‘...forsooth dear lady, let us leave this unholy place, cast off the shackles of credulity and lay waste to the unbelievers that scorned our love, as we fly... fly on I say, to the place where dreams are made and fantasies are mere folly for the Gods to mock, where our forbidden love may blossom and grow within the bluebells, warmed with the embrace of our Mother Earth...’ he yelled, flailing his arms around in a very over-the-top theatrical manner, before ending his speech on one knee with his head bowed. Bo rolled her eyes as most of the other park patrons stopped and stared at the big man. Several young ladies giggled, and a few people applauded.

Talos, ever the showman, stood and bowed theatrically.

’Stop fucking about...’ she said sternly through gritted teeth, '...this is serious...’.

’Sure, girlfriend...’ said Talos, sliding up beside her again. He crossed his legs, placed his crossed wrists on his knees and fluttered his eyelashes in a very camp fashion, whilst grinning like an idiot at her, ‘...wha’s up?’.

Bo sighed with despair; she doubted Talos had ever taken anything seriously in his life.

Either that or all those Quickenings had finally driven him insane.

‘I was challenged by an Immortal today...’ she started.

‘Cool...!’ he exclaimed before she finished, sitting more like a man should, ‘...anywho we ken...?’ He paused to cast a critical look over the curves of her bottom and legs, '...where’ve ye hidden yer sword? ’cause tha’s a very tight goonie...!’.

‘I couldn’t fight him, as I left my sword at home...’ she started, ‘...and I’ve never seen him before’.

‘Did ye geed a name...?’.

‘Colonel Everett Cullen, of the Confederate States Army...’ she answered in a mock southern drawl.

'Oh, him...’ said Talos with a grin, ‘...divvent worry aboot him. He’ll get bored and find someone else t’ play with...’.

‘There was another one there...’ said Bo, almost mechanically, ‘...some sort of monk...’.

'My, we have been busy...’ mocked Talos, '...whit did he look like, this... monk...?’.

‘Thin... hooked nose... beady eyes... little finger missing on left hand...’ came the reply, ‘...sound familiar...?’.

‘Soonds like Konrad Turgenev...’ started Talos.

‘Who...?’.

‘Konrad Turgenev...’ repeated Talos, '...he appeared aroond three-thoosand years ago in the Ural Mountains, Western Russia. He dedicated his life to the challenge of The Game and takkin’ of Quickenings. Buddy or no, good or bad, makks nay difference, only the ritual matters. Claims to takk nay pleasure in what he feels he has t’ do and he simply believes that The Game is the only reason for his existence. He isnay evil, merely unimaginative and inflexible...’.

’Sounds like you know this, Konrad...’ started Bo.

‘We’ve crossed swords affore...’ said Talos, ‘...mebbes someday, we’ll finish whit we started...’.

‘There’s something else...’ started Bo, '...have you been...actively headhunting...?’.

‘Ah ken we’d get aroond to this eventually...’ answered Talos with a smile, ‘...no, I’m no’ yer “Heed-hunter” ...’.

‘Well, it can’t be Konrad...’ said Bo, flatly, '...he was preaching peace and trying to get Everett to give up The Game...’.

‘Merely a ploy...’ cut in Talos, ‘...for an easy kill. He’ll try and convince ye to lay doon yer sword and bow yer heed in repent for yer sins...and then he takks yer heed from yer shoulders. Dishonourable, but effective. In respect t’ yer “heed-hunter”, it could be anyone. Konrad could’ve killed them; he’s certainly good enough, as could’ve Cullen, or even someone else entirely, there’s no real way of kenning’.

’So, you haven’t killed anyone lately...?’ asked Bo again.

Talos chortled.

’Ok, one...’ he replied, ‘...an “acquaintance” of yers, who wouldnay take some friendly advice and leave ye alone...’.

‘Really...?’ replied Bo, eyeing him suspiciously, ‘...I didn’t recognise any of the victims...who was it...?’.

‘Jean-Pierre-Baptiste-André Donnadieu...’ replied Talos in a mock French accent, '...ye ken him simply as Lord Donnadieu, and he looks different withoot his “stupid wiggy face” ...’ he used air quotes to emphasis the last bit.

'I knew you had a hand in at least one of them...’ answered Bo, '...as there was a sword missing. Wasn’t it a Backsword he had...?’

'An exquisite Backsword...’ Talos corrected, '...and I wasnay just gaan to leave it lyin’ aboot...’.

‘That was Donnadieu..?’ Bo mused, thoughtfully, '...I thought the eyes looked familiar. But he wasn’t Immortal when I knew him...’.

‘Aye...’ said Talos, ‘...yer infamous “duel” ...’ he paused with a huge grin on his face, ‘...1785, was it? He became Immortal five years la’er when he was shot during the revolution. As I recall, he was ower keen on marrying ye...’