He didn’t know where he was going, only that he couldn’t stay. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling. His gut ached, his throat was tight, and his thoughts spun in a sickening loop.
What have I done?
:: System: As stated by the young lady, you defended her and yourself.
Harry stopped in his tracks and glared up at the sky.
“That was rhetorical. You know what that means, right?”
He started moving again, but this time, instead of running he decided to test out a nice wandering daze. Also like Uncle Roger, but at a later time in the evening. Unfortunately, he’d only taken a few steps before he had to stop again. Another message had popped up.
:: Rhetorical: asked in order to make a statement rather than to elicit information.
“Leave me alone, just stop! You understand that right?”
He waited. Glaring at the sky, daring it to bother him again.
When nothing more was said he continued.
“Where was I?”
Oh yeah… What have I become?
His heart wasn't in it. “Eh, you ruined it.”
He continued walking, the streets blurred past. Empty windows. Cold lantern light. Shadows like reaching hands.
The woman… Weaver. Mrs. Weaver. This is all a mistake.
I have to tell her. I have to get back.
He slowed, breath catching in the cool air. Across the square, a narrow shape rose high against the moonless night. A peaked roof and tall, empty archways near the top. A bell tower.
He crossed toward it, his mind going through arguments he’d make to Mrs. Weaver.
At the base, a weathered wooden plaque read: Brookhaven Town Hall. Built 1243.
He looked up.
“System, how high would you say that tower is?”
:: System: The Brookhaven Town Hall bell tower is reported to be 153 feet at the pinnacle.
Harry scowled, then shrugged.
It should do.
As Jumpmaster Becky used to say, when all else fails, aim for the bleachers.
He reached for the door and ran into the invisible shield.
:: System: Warning! Cannot enter restricted area.
“Dammit, System.”
He dismissed the message with a sharp blink and lowered his hand. The barrier still pulsed faintly against his palm, cool, immovable.
:: System: Data indicates you may be considering actions detrimental to your well-being.
“Shut up.”
He stepped back and glanced around. The square was quiet. Empty. Across the way, a shutter creaked in the wind. To his right, somewhere behind the hall, he heard movement. A dull clatter. The scrape of something heavy being dragged.
Harry moved toward the sound, boots crunching fainty on gravel as he rounded the side of the building. A narrow alley opened into a small service yard, half-lit by the flicker of a dying gas light overhead.
An old man stood by two large wooden bins. He seemed to be sorting trash from one to the other. He wore a thick canvas apron, frayed at the bottom, and his white hair stuck out from under a slouched cap. As he turned and caught sight of Harry, he stepped back, startled. The trash he was holding slipped from his grip and fell with a muffled thud.
“Excuse me,” Harry called.
The man froze. His gaze ran over Harry, head to boots, and whatever he saw made him recoil. He took another step back, shoulders tensing, mouth slightly open. One hand drifted up in front of him, unsteady.
Harry lifted both hands slowly, taking a step forward. “Please. I won’t hurt you.”
But Harry’s experience told him the man was about to faint or bolt like a scared cat.
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He took another step forward, the thread coming off the man was now in reach. To Harry’s senses it appeared thin and weak.
The old man’s eyes met his and Harry tried again, “Don’t run. I won’t hurt you.”
System, mesmerize.
The thread snapped tight between them.
:: Skill [Mesmerize]: Successful (Active, cost: 5 vitae)
V: 95 | TM: 5%
Everything in the man’s posture slackened. His shoulders lowered. The tension drained from his face, leaving it oddly blank, calm, but not peaceful.
“Yes, my lord?”
Harry swallowed. “Is it alright if I go up into the bell tower?”
“Of course, my lord.”
:: System: Brookhaven Town Hall is no longer a restricted area.
“Thank you.” Harry turned to go, but paused. The old man hadn’t moved. He stood perfectly still, hands at his sides, eyes unfocused and waiting.
“Umm… continue what you were doing.”
“Thank you, my lord. Careful, my lord. The tower is due for repairs.”
Harry gave a nod and started to turn away.
“Do you need a cleric, my lord?”
The question stopped him. He turned back. The man’s hand moved in a hesitant arc, a gesture that seemed to take in all of him.
“What?”
Harry looked down.
Where the dagger had gutted him was a ragged hole surrounded by dark patches of blood. He hadn’t bled very much but the fabric clung where it had soaked through, sticky and stiff. He ran a hand over his mouth and chin. The blood had dried but must look pretty bad.
He fought back the images as they started to rise again. A chill ran through him.
He looked back at the man. “No. No cleric.”
Harry hurried back around to the front of the hall. The invisible barrier was gone. He slowed at the door, hand hovering over the latch.
He moved to step inside.
No resistance. No warning.
I can’t believe that worked.
“System, this is stupid.” He angrily gestured at the doorway. “What good is a magical barrier when I can just hypnotize someone to let me in?”
:: System: Rule creation is not within my current authority. Such parameters were determined over countless cycles of trial, error, and deliberation among all inactive shards of the User Interface Aspect. My function is compliance, not authorship.
Harry let that run through his brain for a minute.
“Right. Quit complaining, follow the rules, and stop pretending I’ve got any choices in this world.”
:: System: Harry, you have several unread messages awaiting review. Shall I display them?
Harry only paid enough attention to dismiss the message, walked into the town hall, and looked around. The air was still and cold. Stone floor, wide walls, several rows of benches then a gated meeting area dominated by a podium. Faded tapestries on every side. Light from street lamps filtered in through high windows, casting pale shapes across the floor. A set of doors lined the back wall. One stood half open beneath a heavy wooden beam, directly under where he thought the tower should be.
He approached. Found stairs.
Perfect.
He took them two at a time.
The climb was narrow, tight, the kind that made you lean forward without meaning to. His legs moved without thought. His hand slid along the stone wall. At the top, a short ladder led to a trapdoor.
He climbed up, pushed it open, and stepped out onto the bell tower.
The space was cramped. Wood underfoot, dark and worn smooth. A massive bell hung suspended above, held in place by thick beams. A square hole under the bell exposed the pull ropes leading down into darkness so thick even his night vision could not make out the bottom. A shallow stone wall no more than a foot high ran around the outer edge.
Harry moved to it and looked out.
The town lay quiet below. Most windows had gone dark but the clouds had thinned and starlight danced across the rooftops. Bright enough to see the curve of streets, the shapes of chimneys, the still trees scattered among the houses. He guessed a few thousand people lived here. His Blood Sense seemed to give him direct information within about twenty feet, faded to a general sense of blood sources within a hundred yards, and offered awareness over a much wider area. The town was alive.
“I have to,” he whispered to himself. “This is all wrong. I’m a… I’m a monster.”
:: System: Have to what, Harry?
“Not now, System.”
He stood still a long moment, heart pounding.
He stepped up onto the wall.
One foot. Then the other.
The night air pressed against him, sharp and cold.
He took a slow breath, gathering his resolve. He’d explain it to Mrs. Weaver, tell her it was a mistake. She’d fix it. She had to. He tensed every muscle and leaned forward.
:: System: Caution. Data indicates a fall from this height could cause severe damage.
Irritated, Harry blinked the message away.
It came back.
:: System: Caution. Data strongly indicates a fall from this height would cause severe damage.
“I know. Stop it,” he muttered.
:: System: Harry. I strongly advise you do not take this action. It would be detrimental to your health and well-being.”
“Health and well-being, my ass…”
:: System: Harry. Would Martha approve of this action?
Harry stood looking out over the town. The rooftops glowed faintly under the stars, quiet. Peaceful.
“That’s dirty pool, System.”
He took a long shuddering breath.
No. No she wouldn’t.
He realized his resolve was gone. He searched around, just to make sure. But no, the whole idea sounded stupid now. What if this world didn’t send him back to Mrs. Weaver at the DSR? The purpose that had carried him up the tower had bled out into the night air.
He turned to step down.
The wall gave way beneath him.
He tumbled over the side, bouncing off the tower wall as he fell.
***
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