Chapter 33 Checkmate

Asher and Clarissa moved through the shadowswept alleways. The industrial district was quiet. Very few people braved the streets at this hour. The moon cast its pale light across Menthil's foggy sky, infusing the surroundings with a subtle glow. Grateful for the meager illumination, Asher shook his left hand and let his dowsing chain fall. 

"Where is the shadewalker we're after?" he asked, tension creeping into his voice. 

The chain jolted chaotically, flicking in different directions before going limp. 

"Failed... she must be in the shadows already," Asher muttered, frustration lacing his words. 

"Where does the shadewalker reside?" 

Once again, the chain offered no guidance, seemingly opting to obey gravity instead. 

Clarissa brushed past him in the narrow alley, her instincts guiding her. 

"She's up there, probably. Let's go... uhh, say hello?" 

"Alright, I'd prefer not to fight, but stay alert. Do not leave my sight and maintain frequent checks behind me. We can't afford to let her get the jump on us if she ends up being hostile." 

Asher walked halfway around the building. Asher inserted his knife into a windows latch and crawled through before doubling back to open the door for Clarissa. 

They subtly closed the door behind them and began their ascent to the top floor. 

The warehouse was clearly operational during the day, filled with various goods and machines; a crane loomed on the first floor. The upper floors, mainly offices, offered little refuge in the dim light. The building stood about 70 feet tall, with the ground floor occupying most of that space. 

As they climbed the dark stairwell, Asher's instincts screamed that danger lurked nearby. If they were going to get jumped, now would be the time. 

In the narrow stairwell, the shadewalker could easily target them one at a time. Shadows cloaked the space, and Asher and Clarissa relied on the faint moonlight filtering through the doorways, rendering it nearly impossible to see. Perhaps Clarissa had better vision; he couldn't be sure. 

Suddenly, Asher's intuition blared alarms in his mind. Instinctively, he ducked just as a dagger whistled past where his head had been, embedding itself in the wall. 

Fast and hostile... 

Grabbing Clarissa's hand, he bolted upwards toward the second floor. Staying here was a death sentence. 

Clarissa let out a low growl, a sound meant to intimidate the shadewalker. 

Asher produced a small bottle of gasoline he had prepared earlier, tossing it into the air before shooting it. 

WHOOSH! 

The glass shattered with a flash of light, momentarily banishing the shadows and illuminating the stairwell. 

Asher had never intended to flee; he was merely playing into the shadewalker's assumptions. 

In the stairwell, about ten feet behind them, the shadewalker appeared momentarily, illuminated by the burst of light. 

She had black hair just past her shoulders, tied back in a simple ponytail. Her big, dark eyes resembled the void, and a button nose complemented her perpetually pursed lips. Standing at about 5'6" in her tallest shoes, she wore a hooded black hunting tunic and matching tights. 

Asher's assessment of her appearance took only a fraction of a second. Before the light could fade, he was already moving. 

Swish! 

Asher's silver stiletto glinted in the light as it flew through the air like a silent reaper. 

In the heartbeat that followed, he fired his revolver, aiming for the shadewalker's only path of retreat. 

Checkmate. 

The shadewalker's choice was clear. Rather than retreating into the gunfire, she pushed forward, directly into the path of the silver stiletto. 

Shink! 

The shadewalker gasped as the stiletto pierced her ribs. 

Before she could recover, Asher was upon her. His foot flew toward her ribcage with ferocious speed. 

The shadewalker ducked and backstepped, attempting to retreat into the shadows. 

But Asher was no fool; he felt a pang of sympathy for her, but he was already three steps ahead. 

BANG! 

His gun flared, filling the air with the acrid scent of gunpowder as he heard the shadewalker cry out. 

This was only half of his plan, though; his real goal in firing the gun was to maintain visibility and prevent her from fleeing. 

He hadn't even aimed it anywhere in particular choosing to shoot the roof for fear of harming his partner. 

Asher rushed forward, feigning another powerful kick. The shadewalker ducked again, but it was all part of his strategy. 

Instead, he rotated his hips,swapping legs he swiftly drove his knee straight into her gut. 

The force sent her feet off the ground. Before she could react, Asher had her hands behind her back, his knee pressing her firmly onto the floor. 

He quickly handcuffed her. 

"Ugh, let me go! I'm dying! Are you Crows?! Hypocritical bastards!" she protested. 

Asher glanced at Clarissa, who was preparing to question the shadewalker. 

"Clarissa, bring a gaslamp. You're responsible for questioning her. I'll search for the stolen items." 

He shot the shadewalker a glare. "And you, shut up before I gag you." 

Inexperienced and too naïve, this girl probably came from a good family. So predictable. Did she think she was the main character? What a child. There was no way they would hire this brat. 

Asher waited until Clarissa was in position to handle the girl before getting up and moving toward the shadewalker's suspected nest. 

The attic was barren—no bed, no signs of habitation. It was a storage space, and apparently, the girl had been using it as her hideout. He quickly spotted a crate that showed signs of tampering and opened it. Inside, he found a collection of porcelain dolls. Pushing them aside, he discovered the false bottom of the crate. 

This kid had read Sherlock Holmes too many times. Nobody actually used such tricks anymore. Admittedly it was quite clever just not to the same standard of her thefts. 

Beneath the wood lay several relics of various kinds; her spoils were far more numerous than they had suspected. 

Asher estimated there were at least twenty lesser relics... fancy goblets, intricate necklaces,various jewelries, articles of ostentatious clothing, and even a beautiful painting depicting a summer day in Menthil. He replaced the false bottom and picked up the entire crate. It was heavy—he guessed at least fifty kilograms. 

Carrying it down the staircase, he placed it near where Clarissa was questioning the thief. Taking out a coin, he addressed nobody in particular. 

"Is this all of the stolen goods?" 

The coin glinted as it flipped through the air, silently landing in his palm, tails side up.

Blasted thing useless..