Page 74 of The Reaper
I was stunned into silence.
The reality that this man had lost his faith when he lost his wife was glaringly obvious, but I don’t think he realised it. He was so intent on revenge and hatred towards the world, a hatred he seemed to have channelled into tormenting me, that he couldn’t recognise that he needed help too. He was unhinged. A man on the edge.
“So the lost sheep got left in the cold, in your version of the parable?” I challenged him.
“You’re not the sheep, you’re the wolf, and I made sure I kept you from our door. That was until you forced your way in.”
“I love your daughter.”
“You’re not good enough for her,” he spat back.
“You don’t get to have a fucking say in that!” I shouted. I was trying to keep a level head and not go full fucking psycho on him, but he wasn’t making it easy for me.
“What now?” he asked, baring his teeth at me as if he was daring me, trying to push me over the edge.
“I should kill you for what you’ve done. If it were anyone else in front of me, I would.”
He lifted his head, and grinning like a mad man he said, “Why don’t you? You killed all the others. I know that, and I won’t stop until everyone else does too. I’m going to fucking destroy you.”
“And you think they’ll believe the ramblings of a mad man? Not to mention, you’re chained in my chapel––”
“Your chapel,” he said, laughing sarcastically.
“Yes, my chapel. I might leave you down here to rot for eternity. That way, I don’t have to live with the guilt that I killed her father. You’ll waste away from natural causes. Starvation, dehydration, the possibilities are endless.”
“No, you’d take the cowards way out.”
He had hit a nerve with that one, and so I threw the sword that I held down onto the floor and stalked around the room, gathering my crossbow, a spear, and then I unhooked my katana sword from the stand it was encased in and carried them all over to a table nearby, placing them down and then picking up the crossbow to aim at him.
“IfI was going to kill you tonight, and the emphasis is on the word if, because it’s still not fully off the table, I’d show you how a proper warrior fights. A true warrior. One that doesn’t hide behind a pen and paper, a photograph, or a weak-ass telephone call to the authorities. I’d show you how a samurai operates, the ultimate fighter.”
I took a step closer to him with my crossbow pointed right at him, my finger hovering, tempting me to take a shot.
“The early samurai used to charge into battle with a bow and arrow first. The long-range weapon was used to disarm their enemy, take them out if they were lucky.” I stepped to the side, moving around the room slowly to validate my point. “It doesn’t matter where I am in this room, because with this crossbow, I could take you out. Fire it right through you heart, or better yet, a shot into the stomach you don’t appear to have. Or is it a lack of guts to stand up for what’s right? Should I aim there first?”
He sat still, stoic, his face daring me to make good on the promises I was giving him.
I shook my head and put the crossbow down, picking up the spear.
“Once they’d incapacitated their enemy, had them writhing on the floor in pain, the samurai would move to their next weapon, the spear.” I brandished the spear, twirling and then jabbing it in the air. “It’s got a longer range, but not quite as long as the arrows. I could do a lot of damage with this, but you know what? I don’t think it’d give me as much pleasure as the third weapon the samurai used. You see, for me, it’s all about hand-to-hand combat. Looking my enemy in the eye and seeing the fear. Sending them to hell with my face imprinted on their brain. Having the power at my fingertips to end it all, and I will. That’s my job. I am the reaper, after all.”
Nathan scoffed again.
“You think that name gives you power? Kudos? To me, it makes you sound ridiculous.”
I ignored him. I knew he was goading me, and I didn’t care. I put the spear down and picked up my katana, holding it in my hand and feeling that sense of pride that I always felt. No one touched the katana, only me.
“The katana sword could only be owned by the samurai, it was known to be a superior sword, unparalleled in its levels of strength and versatility. A bit like my fury right now,” I added.
Nathan huffed, but I carried on.
“The art of making an authentic katana sword is a craftmanship that’s dying a death, a bit like the honour of some men here in Brinton.” I smirked to myself. “A decent sword can take up to six months to forge.” I twisted the blade in front of me to marvel at it. “They use different heat treatments, you see, cooling it at different rates to create a stronger edge and a more flexible spine. That, along with the perfect composition of metals, the tamahagane steel––that’s high carbon steel to you laymen––that’s what makes it so great.”
I swung the sword in front of me and took a step closer to him.
“The katana was said to represent the soul of its master. Kind of ironic, don’t you think, for a taker of souls like me?”
“You have no soul,” he bit back.
