Chapter 161 (2/2)

“To break Shal and the boy out of Tomkat’s prison.” Still his eyes remained closed, and he raised his hand and began to move his finger like the conductor in an orchestra, barely paying attention to her.

But at that answer, her eyebrows shot upwards.

“To…. to break them…. out of the prison…?!?!” Helen sputtered, her mind reeling. Even the male spear attendant seemed to know what that meant, and his training slowed, and then stopped. They both gaped at the sitting man.

He, of course, continued to move his finger, and the air around him was filled with a strange music, and the ghostly images of flowing spears. Although he appeared to be doing some sort of training, this was one of the moments were Helen… couldn’t control her mouth. And didn’t really want to.

“Breaking them out of prison…? Are you fucking defective?!? That’s a direct challenge to the First Spear’s honor! He will personally come to deal with the neanderthals that attempted such a thing. He is almost a Pontiff! He will fuck us to bits!”

The images fell away, and Divveltian slowly opened his eyes. Strangely, when Helen looked into the old man’s eyes, the image of floating spears was even more powerful there, so vicious that she stumbled backward, her instincts warning her of something terrible impending in her future. Divveltian just chuckled, and closed his eyes again.

“There is a large difference between a powerful Adept…. and a Pontiff. As long as it is the former… we should be able to manage it. But of course, if you feel fear, hide. Otherwise, sharpen yourselves. At this level, you simply need to stall small fries until we get them out. The actual heavy lifting… will be done by them. We are just the getaway team.”

The male spear attendant nodded seriously to Divveltian’s words, and then began to work on his created move. Helen sat back on her heels, feeling like she should be furious about the idiocy they displayed, but…

But still…

A very deep, animalistic part of her, the part that was the source of her anger and vitriolic words, was shivering with pleasure. Although it was incredibly dangerous, this was exactly the sort of disobedient and domineering thing that her inner part wanted. But Helen had survived thus far through caution, and through a careful monitoring and regulating of that part of herself.

This was not a cautious move. But maybe that was why the Ghosthound had an irresistible draw on her. Because he was a man who stepped forward, against impossible odds, spitting in the face of fate. He risked his life, and seemed to revel in it. This prison break… was just another typical day for him.

And she wanted that life. It was something that she could not resist.

So, in spite of herself, she began to train, working on her three flowing moves that had given her so much success in the past. Even now, she could still feel small wisps of that strange energy clinging to her, helping her improve at a pace that would have been impossible in the past. It came in spurts and epiphanies, and it too, was a gift from the Ghosthound.

Acidically whispering the ways she would kill all of them for putting her through this, Helen smiled and prepared.

*****

Claptrap looked with a horrified expression out across the boat.

It had been an excellent week. The Crashing Wave Style was very pleased with the improved quality of the armors. But of course, Claptrap only had so many, and he knew that the Ghosthound was leaving soon.

But he had hoped to get another batch finished. The profits seemed to dance before their eyes.

However, when Claptrap went to visit… he found that the Ghosthound was gone. And his old man protector. And his master. And his two spear attendants.

But of course the boat wasn’t empty. As with any boat without a Tassle, it seemed Mr. Izzat had annexed it, opening another branch shop at this location.