Twincy Quinn and the Eye of Horus Part One (32 page)

I could not
get out in a single statement all that I wanted to convey. I did
not know who this woman really was, beyond a name and a legend. Yet
now as she stood there swaying, her blood over my cheek, I realised
one thing: I wanted to help her.

I wanted to find out who she was, find out who was after her.
And
help
her.

As a
policeman, I tried not to form first impressions. They could often
be wrong. Yet at the same time, more often than not, I found myself
relying on my gut instinct. That sum of finely honed skills and
abilities I had developed over the years.

Sometimes it
warned me of danger, and more often than not it was right.

Well now it
wasn't warning me of danger, quite the opposite. I got the
distinct, unshakeable impression that I could trust her.

She had not
done anything to prove otherwise.

Despite Lord
Ridley's story, Jennifer Fairmont had proclaimed, confidently, and
without any appearance of subterfuge or mendacity, that Twincy
Quinn had protected her. Then, when I had run into Twincy in a
lovely disguise this morning, she had saved that cart driver, and
stopped those horses. She had also rescued me, after I had rather
foolishly attempted to save her from those criminals in the
alleyway.

She had not
yet threatened my life, she had not yet committed a crime, that I
could see, and she certainly did not appear to have nefarious
motives.

But possibly,
beyond that, I simply got the distinct feeling as I looked at her,
that I could not and should not look away.

I wanted to
trust her, and I was going to.

And I was
going to help her, whether she liked it or not.

She took
another swaying step, her ankle jerking to the side as her heel
slipped on the cobble.

‘
Please,’ I held my arms out exactly in the position they had
been when she had fallen into them.

I didn't care
that her blood was all over my most expensive shirt, or was down my
left cheek.

For a moment I
fancy she hesitated.

She looked up
at me, and for the love of God, nothing could stop me from looking
down at her.

Then she heard
movements from inside the building, and it scared her.

Taking a very
quick step backwards, she twisted her head to the side.

I finally made
myself move, letting my open arms collapse, and taking a hurried
step forward before she could do something stupid.

There was
something on the other side of the lane way, a collection of bins,
or the like. Just above it was a heavy metal sign.

I took no
heed; she did.

She flung
herself forward, and with no attention to her injuries, she
launched herself on top of the bins, then jumped and grabbed the
sign.

She flicked
her legs up, curled around it in a great arc like a gymnast, then
flung herself off, and managed to grab the guttering above her.

It was an
astounding move.

If I hadn't
seen Twincy before, it would have left me standing there
slack-jawed and amazed.

Instead I
watched as she clutched herself up onto the roof, stumbling. And I
heard as she let out a desperate, horrible gasp.

She was going
to run herself to death. No matter what was chasing her, if she
kept on fleeing like this, she would end up killing herself
anyway.

The stout men
finally burst out from the door behind me, and turned their heads
from side to side. ‘Where is she?’ One of them commanded of me.

I couldn't
answer.

In fact when I
didn't answer, the one who appeared to be in charge, plunged
forward, obviously deciding that she had run off down the lane way,
and waved to the men after him. He then turned and commanded me to
go in the other direction.

It was a
futile move. Not only was Twincy in fact on the roofs, we could not
catch her. We could not hope to. Sure, I could find a way up onto
that rooftop, but in doing so I would simply push her forward. And
she was in no condition to run.

Though I knew
it was useless, I still turned and half-jogged in the direction the
man had pointed.

I couldn't
close my eyes for some reason, even though they felt tight and
itchy.

I was barely
aware of where I was putting my limbs too; they appeared to be
moving of their own accord, yet every now and then I would
stumble.

I had been
convinced barely hours ago that I had seen Twincy Quinn plunge to
her death.

It had been
surprising and welcome to find out that I had been wrong, yet now
she was hardly safe from Death’s grasp.

As I jogged, I
honestly tried to stare up at the rooftops and to catch a glimpse
of her, but I knew instinctively that she was well gone.

Where to, I
couldn't wonder, yet I knew it would not be to a hospital, and she
dearly, dearly needed to go to a hospital. I had seen wounds like
hers before on the battlefield, and it was only under the most
favourable conditions that they did not lead to death. Running
across rooftops and finding some hidden place to huddle down, would
not make ideal conditions. She would bleed out, and if she did not,
her limbs would go gangrenous.

It took me too
long, but again, on instinct, I realised I was headed home.

It was rude of
me to have left Elizabeth in the restaurant, but that did not
change the fact I was angling towards my own small apartment.

And with a
sudden moment of realisation, I understood why.

When I patted
a hand to my chest, brushing my fingers over my cheek to shift her
splatter of blood, I paused under a lamp long enough to stare at
it.

Blood
.

Ever since I
had heard of Twincy Quinn I had tried to come up with a way to
track her. Some clue, some scrap of evidence. Well now I did not
have a scrap, but I certainly had a splatter. All over my cheek and
all over my shirt.

She was many
things, and all of them incredible, yet she still had blood. And
with the right means, you could track someone from their blood.

I had the
right means.

He was called
Barney, and he was my enormous bloodhound. With the permission of
my landlady, who kindly allowed me pets, Barney lived with me and
my cat Chester in my small apartment.

Though getting
on a bit, he had not forgotten his instincts. He had been expertly
trained in the art of tracking. I just hoped the mess over my shirt
would be all he would require to start his hunt.

I ran now, as
fast as I could, straight home.

I had a slim
window of opportunity, and I had to take it.

Twincy
Quinn

I could hardly
see. My vision was shutting down, in fact my body was shutting down
with it, though I was not close to death yet. However, the devices
that all but ran me were now altering their processes to conserve
energy. I could barely think, I could not smell, and I could hear
only what was in my immediate vicinity. Everything I had was
directed to moving forward despite my enormous blood loss.

Somehow I managed to get away from the
suitables
, and now I was zeroing in
on the one place I had to get to more than any other. It was not
hospital; it was home.

Only there
would I be safe.

Our abandoned
factory was on the edge of the town, and from the right angle, had
a view of the river.

Well right now
I stared out on top of the rooftop I was stumbling over at the
river beyond. That dark mass of water. Still, as there was barely a
wind, it was almost serene. Or would be, if I wasn’t half bleeding
to death.

Choking
through a cough that sent me shivering and stumbling to my knees, I
pushed myself up and continued on.

I tried to
lock my eyes on that view, I tried to tell myself I could make
it.

I tried to
tell myself that there was help waiting for me.

Yet in that
moment I could not appreciate one thing. While there was help
before me, there was also help behind. I had run from him. As he
had caught me when I had plunged through that kitchen door,
Detective Stanford had offered to help me.

I should have
taken him up on it.

For while I
was determined, while I was perfectly crafted to undertake any
mission I designed, Michael Stanford was in another league. When he
decided he wanted something, he would go after it. Like a Roman or
Greek from the tales of old, when he made a pact, he kept it.

He was going
to help me whether I liked it or not, and though I could barely
appreciate that now, I would need all the help I could get.

Michael F.
Stanford

I made it
home, and though I met my landlady in the corridor, and she
practically gave a scream at the sight of me, I quickly assured her
it was not my blood. Explaining myself briefly, I grabbed Barney
from upstairs, took my shirt off, kept it for the scent, and raced
down the stairs.

I didn't even
bother to grab another thick jacket for the cold.

I was focused
on one task.

I made it out
of the doorway and onto the street.

Barney pulled
tight on his leash, alarmed at how enthusiastic his master was, and
likely quite amused at being let out at this late hour.

Yet when I
hunkered down next to him, still holding his leash tight around my
arm, and I thrust that bloodied shirt in front of his nose, he
understood.

He sniffed at
it wildly, even nuzzling his nose into it, then he stiffened
up.

‘
That's it, you can find her,’ I added under my breath,
stumbling forward as Barney took a powerful step and pulled tight
on the leash.

Though I knew
he would be unable to pick it up from here, I directed him back to
where Twincy had fallen into my arms.

From there
Barney picked up the scent, strong and sure, as he tugged at his
leash tightly.

Moving
quickly, the night a blur around me, I let Barney lead.

I didn't care
that my shoulders were cold, that my arm was locked up as I held
that leash tightly, all I could do was stare ahead, hoping that
with every corner I turned, I would find her. Though I shuddered at
the prospect of seeing her lifeless in a gutter, I knew I had
time.

She was
strong. Undoubtedly she had devices to assist her, and I hoped with
bitter passion they would keep her alive until I reached her.

That night was
the longest of my life. As I followed Barney, as I waited to find
her, I could hear and see and smell nothing save for my own
hope.

Barney led me
across town, out of the district I was in, and into another.

We soon
arrived in a far poorer section of the city, and I was more than
happy to have Barney, my enormous bloodhound, by my side, as it
kept me from unwanted attention.

I was solely
focused on my task.

I had made
myself a promise, and I would keep it. I was going to help this
woman whether she liked it or not, but first I was going to find
her.

As Barney led
me on, he became gradually more and more excited until we reached a
large, old, decrepit building of three stories.

From the
outside I fancied it was a factory. Yet in that moment, I could not
have possibly appreciated what it really was.

I took a
single step forward.

Twincy
Quinn

I made it
home.

Somehow.

Obviously I
was more injured than I had judged, and by the time I made it to my
front door, I planted a bloody hand on it, and was incapable of
speaking, let alone remembering the password Vanessa had for
today.

It didn't
matter. The door opened, and as it did, I fell to the ground.

Barely
conscious, I was aware of the fact the children rushed around
me.

Excited,
shocked, some of them crying, I soon saw the one face I needed
to.

John.

His ruddy
cheeks came into view above me, a particularly grim frown casting
his chin into shadow.

‘
Carolyn, get the drugs. Vanessa, marshal the other children;
we need to get her onto a table.
Theodore
, get me my
tools.’

I drifted in
and out of consciousness. I could feel myself being moved, and
then, in a pleasant wash of relief, I finally convinced myself that
I was home.

The children.
They were around me. I had made it.

‘
Attempt to conserve your energy,’ I heard Vanessa snap. ‘Do
you know if you were followed?’

Though I could
hear her question and I wanted to reply, I could not. My throat was
a choked mess, and I struggled to hold the requisite attention long
enough to comprehend most of what was being said, let alone come up
with a response.

‘
I will take that as a yes. Children,’ Vanessa raised her
voice, ‘prepare defences. John, do what you can do.’

‘
Oh don't you worry, my dear, I will,’ John darted into view
again, and I could see that he now had a small spotting scope fixed
over his eye. It was not, thankfully, embedded into the flesh; it
was secured in place by a leather strap.

Though John
had just referred to Vanessa as my dear, she did not pull him up on
it. And it was a testament to how serious this situation was that
she didn’t grab him by the wrist and lecture him on the proper
mannerisms of a modern young man.

‘
Carolyn, how are you coming with those painkillers? I believe
we must knock her out. There is considerable damage to several of
the machines implanted throughout her arm and side. This is going
to be a long night,’ he added with a short and mirthless
chuckle.