Occasionally, the light glints off objects, catching her eye.  So far she has found a partially melted pendant and an ornate, if battered box that is only slightly charred.  She thinks the box belonged to Murdoch, but the pendant is unfamiliar.  It looks like it was a dragon, and she thinks it must have belonged to one of the day schoolers.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees something that gleams white in the semi-darkness.   Turning, she walks towards it, careful not to stumble over pieces of wall and furniture as she goes.   She stops when she gets close enough to see what it is.

Bone.  Sun-bleached and reflecting the moonlight.   She moves closer.  It's almost an entire skeleton.  She finds the skull a few feet away, face smashed and some teeth missing.  Picking it up, she carries it back to the rest of the remains, artistically setting it down on a flat piece of charred wood that lies by the skeleton's hand. 

She laughs at the image she's created.   Head on a platter, almost.

Then she steps back again, taking in all of it.   The bones are large, heavy-looking.  They're not the bones of juvenile humans.  This is an adult, and likely male.

Looking around her, she charts where she is.  She's in what is left of Murdoch's study. 

The conclusion is easy to make.  She wonders if Murdoch was surprised when they came for him, or if he'd been waiting, silent and stern, behind his desk.  Was he alone, or were the day schoolers sleeping upstairs?  Merrill hasn't found other human remains, so she thinks perhaps Murdoch managed to get them out of the school in time.

Picking the skull up again, she puts in inside the box she's been carrying, and heads back down to where Marty is waiting for her.

****

He's lounging on a chair.  Its upholstery is charred, but otherwise it is intact.  One of his legs is swinging over the arm of the chair, the other is on the ground.  His boots are dirty, his hair is a mess.  Merrill thinks he looks wonderful, especially when he grins at her.   The smile is welcoming and relieved, curious and wanting.

She looks at him and she craves.

"Find anything interesting?"

Nodding, Merrill moves slightly closer.   "I found someone."

He sits up, his face wary.  She can guess what he's thinking: that she either found some human and finally gave into temptation, or she found one of the others.   "He wants to talk to you."

"Who?"  Her words don't seem to have reassured him .

"He thinks you've done very well.  He's proud of you, what you've done for me and yourself.  He's glad you feel what you feel."  It's the closest they've ever come to acknowledging Marty's feelings for her.  "He thought you'd perhaps be the one who would never change, but he was wrong, he sees that now."

Marty stands.  "Murdoch?"

Moving closer, she nods. 

"Where is he?  Why didn't he come down with you?"

"He did."  Marty looks wary again at her words, but before he can speak, she inches closer to him.  Holding the box carefully, she opens it and shows him what's inside.

She almost laughs at the expression on his face.  He takes a step back from her, saying, "Shit, Merrill.  You've lost it."

Setting the box carefully on the now-empty chair, Merrill turns and walks away.  She already knows that.  She's in transition.

Murdoch would be so disappointed. 

The Fury would probably howl with glee.  She hisses at the thought.

****

Marty finds her later.  She's above ground again, looking down at the rest of Murdoch's remains.  He comes and stands beside her.  He has the box underneath one arm.

"What's going on with you?"

She's not sure how to answer, so she doesn't.

"Merrill, that kind of stunt isn't your style."

He's right.  It's the kind of thing Marty is more likely to pull, even if his sense of humour has dimmed in the last few months.  She remembers when she would have scorned him for being careless and disrespectful.  She and Essie would have exchanged complaints about him.  They would have  laughed at his pathetic cries for attention.

It's not something she can verbally articulate, this feeling inside.  They've been waiting for the others for close to a month, both of them reluctant to leave.  Marty brings it up every few days, talking about how it isn't safe to stay in one place for too long.  She agrees.  But, somehow they always decide to wait just a little bit longer.

The longer they wait, the worse she feels. 

She can't put it into words, so instead she looks at Marty and says, "We should bury him.  It's the least he deserves."

Marty looks vaguely relieved, like he thinks her earlier behaviour was just a fluke.  He nods.   "We have a few hours before sunrise."

****

Two days later, she finally gives up hope.   "We should leave."

Marty nods. 

"I'm serious.  They're not coming."

He stands, brushing dust from his pants.  He looks glad, he's been waiting for her to tell him she is truly ready to start moving again. 

It's shortly after sunset.  They're full, they've slept, and Merrill is ready to start running again.  They really have pushed it, staying here for so long.

It only takes them a few minutes to gather their things.  They've never carried much.  Merrill slips the small volume on instances of vampires falling in love inside her jacket.  The partially-melted dragon goes in a pocket in her pants.   She stuffs some blood reserves in a small bag.  It's enough to keep them going for a couple of days.  It's cold enough outside now that the blood stays fresh longer.  Soon there will be snow covering the ground.

She takes on last look around the academy, then steels herself against regrets. 

They're about to leave when Marty stops and puts his finger to his lips.   She backs into the shadows as he moves to crouch near the entrance. 

Footsteps echo in the small room.  It could be a human, indulging in morbid fantasy by coming to look at the remains of the school.  It could be the Fury.  It could be --

She looks up.

Karl.

His face is smudged with dirt.  He's wearing shoes she doesn't recognise, and he appears slightly nervous and unsure.   She feels a smile break across her face.  Stepping out of the shadows, she laughs as she says his name, "Karl."

He turns towards her, fast and jerky.  His body relaxes when he sees her.  "Merrill!"  He looks around, missing seeing Marty.  "Are you alone?"

She shakes her head.  "No.  Marty's here."

Karl's grin widens, but there's something -- she gets distracted when Marty steps out, walking towards Karl.

"Hey."

Turning away slightly from Merrill, Karl grins at Marty.   Something teases at the edge of her mind.  Something unpleasant and unsettling.

Marty and Karl are talking.  She moves closer and asks, "Where's Essie?"

She watches as Karl's face crumples.  It's very convincing, but she surreptitiously edges close to Marty.  It's a signal, and she hopes he picks up on it.

Even more, she hopes she's wrong.

"They got her."

"But not you."  She makes her voice soothing, the way she tried to speak with Drew when he was upset.  Her before-voice.

"No."  Karl looks away, almost everything about him screaming regret.  "I ran."

Reaching out, she touches his arm.  "There's no shame in running when you know you're beaten."  His arm tenses underneath her fingers.

"No."  His voice sounds vaguely hollow, and it could be from loss.  As she looks closer though, she doubts it.  This isn't the Karl who wanted to pledge to Essie.  This isn't even the Karl who she promised to meet again.

She knows the realisation shows on her face, because Karl steps back, snarling.   Then he starts laughing.  "You always were the smartest of all of us, Merrill."

Marty is tense beside her.   She crosses her arms, letting Karl talk.

"I see you found Murdoch.  Burial was such a nice touch."  The words are accompanied by a sneer. 

"I can't believe you left him there."  Merrill wonders how long Karl has been watching them, what he saw. 

Karl laughs again, throwing his arms upwards.   She remembers such uncontrolled movement from when he was in the cage.   "I can't believe I didn't scatter his bones and spit on them." 

How very original.

"You're Fury."  Marty's voice is flat, and Merrill turns to him ever so slightly.  "They got to you."

Karl is smirking now, his arms crossed in front of him.  She thinks he looks like a defiant little boy.  Small, weak, wanting to convince his friends he's more than a child.

His words just reinforce her thoughts.  "Finally catching up, Marty?  You've always been a little slow."

"Ask the assassins you sent how slow I am."  Marty's voice is gravelly, bordering on angry.

"Oh, I didn't send them, no, no."  Karl's head is shaking back and forth, short, jerky movements, and Merrill thinks there's more to this than simply joining the Fury.  Something's happened to Karl, something that has made him this way.

"See, I would have just come myself.  Like I have now.  Sadly, the Fury only just saved me recently.  And I, of course, was more than happy to tell them all about our little scheduled meeting."  He smiles widely, a grin that makes Merrill think of school days.  "By the way, sorry I'm late, guys."

She's had enough of the posturing.  "What do you want?"

"I've come to make a little offer.  Join up, or, you know, die.  Standard, really.  Oh, and Marty?  You're not invited.   You just get to die."

Hissing, she moves forward fast, pushing Karl against the wall.  "I'm not Fury."

"No?"  His eyes are bulging a little, but he still looks arrogant.  "You're sure acting like one."

Hmm.  Tilting her head to one side, she backs away and asks,  "What happened to Essie?"

Karl's eyes widen momentarily, and he starts pacing.  "Blah, blah, Essie.  You know how annoying she was?  We ran for months, I had to listen to her whining the entire time.  She'd bitch about everything, from missing you to sore feet.  I bet Marty doesn't waste words like that."  He glances at Marty, now standing slightly behind her.

"So we'd run, we'd rest, she'd bitch.  Getting cornered by the Fury was a relief, really.  After all the trouble you and Marty gave them, they sent six against us."  He sneers, hatred on his face.  "Six.  Can you believe that?  Six.  It was hopeless.  Essie couldn't fight, you know that?  All that soft living at the school, she was useless."

"And you ran."

"No.   I turned around and asked for asylum."

She wants to laugh at the idea that the Fury would offer asylum.  Foolish Karl.  She wonders how broken he was by that point.  Perhaps watching Essie die pushed him over the edge.  The last time she'd seen him, he'd barely been balancing on it, even as he tried so hard to be strong for Essie.

"And here I am."

"Aren't we lucky."  Marty starts verbally pushing Karl.  "I for one am thrilled that I get to die at the hands of a former high school football star.  Gee, if only you still had your letter jacket."

Karl doesn't react other than tense his shoulders.

"Even better, I wish your little sister was here, she'd be so proud of big, bad brother."

"There's a reason you just get to die, Marty.  You're too annoying even for the Fury.  It's a wonder Merrill hasn't killed you herself."    He shrugs.  "Not that I mind having the pleasure."

"You can try." 

She remembers when Marty would have said such words in an arrogant, bragging tone.  Now his words are flat, just facts.  He's not looking forward to this any more than she is.

"I'm strong, now."  Karl moves slightly closer.

"You're weak."  She spits the words out.  He's a fool if he thinks he is a match for them.  Her words head off the fight, at least for a few moments.  Something cruel inside her raises its head, and she continues,  "You always were.  A child, nothing more."  She sneers. 

Karl turns on her, his fangs glistening in the pale light.  She can see the red of his eyes, and part of her is drawn to it.  "Maybe you'll just get the die option too, Merrill.  The Fury doesn't need another of us, now that they have me.  It's my job to make sure you never find Sanctuary, if it even exists."

Sanctuary.  The way he says it makes her think it's more than an abstract concept.  She wants to think on it more, but right now Merrill is tired of this.  It's almost a relief when Karl rushes at her.  Time seems to slow down as she watches him come close but get pulled into the air before he touches her. Marty is grinning as he tosses Karl against a wall, drawing a cry of outrage and pain.

After that, the fight goes quickly.  The outcome was inevitable, really.  She and Marty have grown too good at this.  She wonders, as Karl twists in the air, if this is really a Fury game, another way of trying to wear them down. They must have known Karl wouldn't stand a chance.

She stops thinking as Karl hits another wall, shaking the foundation of what is left of the school.    "Marty!  Be care --" Her words get cut off when Karl gets thrown against the wall again, this time loosening a ceiling beam.  It comes crashing down, knocking Marty down.

Karl falls to the ground, but he lands gracefully, knees bent and one hand on the floor.  His attention is solely on Marty, who isn't getting up. 

Something snaps inside of her.  She had been willing to let Marty take care of this, but not now.  Now, she runs forward, pushing Karl so that he lands on his stomach.  She straddles his back, her hands on his head.

He flails, the surprise leaving him momentarily awkward.

Merrill can take advantage of that sort of thing.  She's learned. 

She's strong, stronger than she thought would ever be possible.  She digs her fingers into his skin and twists her arms hard.  Karl's howl is quickly cut off.   Twisting again, she pulls upwards, grimacing at the crunch of bones and the wet sound of flesh tearing. 

She gets lost in the sounds and the scents of blood and gore.  They're the sensations of fighting and triumph.

When she comes back to herself, she's standing.  Karl's body is on the floor, blood flowing serenely from where his head used to be. 

Looking down, she sees that there's blood on her hands.  Again. 

Everything they've been through in the last year has been preparing her for this.  A plan by the Fury or not, the outcome is the same.  Merrill's slowly losing everything that she learned at the Mansbridge Academy.  Soon, her hatred for the Fury will be all that's keeping her going.

Marty has pushed the ceiling beam aside, and he now lies on his back, his face contorted in pain.  Turning from Karl, she moves to sit by his head.  She strokes his cheek as he lies there.  Red streaks follow the path of her fingers.  "How badly are you hurt?"

He shrugs.  "I've had worse.  It just stunned me, going down like that."

She nods and keeps her hand on his face.  After a while, he gets to his feet, not entirely steady.  He doesn't look in the direction of Karl, but instead watches her.

They look at each other for a few moments until she can't stand it any longer.  She goes to Marty, wrapping her arms around his waist to help keep him upright.  As she pushes her face against his shoulder, his arms come around her. 

"I'm sorry about Essie."  She knows how Marty felt about her.

"Me too."  His hand moves to her hair. 

They stand like that for a few minutes until he says,   "We should go.  They could be watching."

She nods slightly, her forehead still resting on his shoulder.  The fabric against her face feels slightly damp.

Ignoring it, she thinks about the likelihood that there are more Fury waiting for them above ground.  Eventually, she decides it is doubtful they would have sent anyone else.  They're too arrogant, and she thinks too that their resources must be stretched by now.  Still.  They have hours until sunrise and they might as well use them.  It would be awkward staying here with Karl's remains anyway. 

Pulling away from Marty, she sees the drying blood on her hands.  She'll have stained his shirt, but they're used to that.   His hand reaches out to hers and she takes it.  They climb the stairs, leaving the school behind.

Merrill doesn't look back.
 

Notes: Once again, I owe Stacey a great deal for beta reading this story and for generally being so good to me.