“Where are you going?” the man asked casually. “Don’t you have time for an old friend?”
“I don’t know you, mister, and I don’t think I want to,” she replied as she turned and bolted toward the front gate to the park.
“Now, don’t go and make this hard on me,” he called out as she fled down the street. “Amanda, please come back. I just want to talk and catch up on old times.”
She was nearly hyperventilating by the time she reached the old creaky wrought iron gate to the park and found that it was locked with a chain. The smell of wet leaves filled her nostrils and the sound a something metal clinked somewhere in the darkness. A gust of wind rattled the large wooden sign that hung from the gate. The man called to her again and she frantically pulled on the gate, her muscles straining as she desperately tried to force it open. Her eyes darted up toward the intersection. If only she could make it to the brightly lit street.
“Amanda,” called the man, taking another drag of his cigarette. “You don’t really think you’re going to be able to break that chain, do you?”
With a determination that Amanda never knew she possessed, she squeezed her way painfully through the small opening in the middle of the gate. Her coat caught on something sharp as she pushed through, preventing her from fleeing farther into the park. She screamed and pulled on the coat as the man strolled closer.
Seeing her stuck on the park gate, the man picked up his pace. Just as he was about to reach her, the coat tore free, and she fled as fast as she could into the park.
The man took one last long drag from his cigarette and flipped it away. He exhaled and pulled the torn remains of her coat off the gate and put it into his pocket.
“Well, I guess this saves me the trouble of dragging her into a dark alley kicking and screaming,” he said to no one in particular.
With fearsome strength the man tore the chain from the gate, snapping the bars completely. He threw it into the bushes and shoved open the gate with a bang.
“Oh well, more fun for me,” he said with a shrug and walked into the park, whistling as he went.
The Shogun leaped from rooftop to rooftop, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He’d come to this small city for a reason, and his little skirmish with the Musketeer had cost him precious time. It was strange that he should encounter his old enemy here. What possible purpose could he have for being this far upstate?
The Shogun reached the end of the row of buildings and leaped into the open air. He flipped once, then fell five stories to land lightly on his feet. The sword in his hand glowed, and he touched it lightly to his forehead.
He must hurry, the sword told him, or it would be too late for yet another innocent person. Sheathing his sword, the Shogun set off in a dead run, speeding down through the city streets like a blur, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran.
He reached the Otsenango Park gates and stopped to examine the split bars. Damage like this could only have been done by someone with immense strength. The Shogun had dealt with all manner of beings in his long years. Many possessed such power, some beings supernatural and others not. He was certain, however, that it was a human he was pursuing, but no average human possessed such strength.
The sword glowed again, and he saw what had transpired here only minutes earlier. He saw Amanda Pratt as she jogged, unaware of the evil that watched her from a distance. Likewise, he saw her flee, escaping into the deserted park. It was when he finally saw the wild eyes of the man pursuing her that he knew it that he had to move fast if he was going to stop him from killing Amanda.[LAM1]
Perhaps it was already be too late to stop him, but the Shogun would bring justice to the brute, regardless. He had slain many serial killers throughout the centuries, and, strong or not, this one would die just like all the others.
Amanda ran blindly down the dark footpaths of the park in a frantic attempt at losing her stalker. She struck her foot on a jutting tree root and painfully snagged her skin as she stumbled into a briar patch. Exhausted and out of breath, she stopped and leaned up against a small tree. She was cut and bruised from running headlong through thickets and sharp branches, and every muscle in her body ached with fatigue.
She had come here every day since she was a kid and knew that the clearing ahead led down to the river. If she continued in that direction, she would be trapped on the river’s edge with no place to run or hide.
Before she could decide on which direction she should go, she heard a faint whistle coming from behind her. Her eyes went wide with such a sudden fear that overcame her rational mind, and she took off again.
Amanda ran and ran as self-preservation overcame the burning in her muscles. But no matter how fast she ran, the whistling always seemed to be just behind her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she screamed for help. No one was within earshot, and she knew it. She cried out anyway, in the faint hope that someone might hear.
Her chest burned, and just when she was about to give up, she stumbled into the clearing that led to the river. She fell to her knees and gasped for air, coughing violently from exertion. When she finally managed to stop her fit of coughing, she heard the whistling again, and her heart
