Juraj placed his head in his hands, ‘I knocked him out cold, straight away, with my own damn fists. I was that angry Lichnova—I was boiling with rage.’ Speaking through muffled fingers, a twang of pain and responsibility overcame him over.
He was the judge, jury, and now the metaphorical executioner in Milos’ case. His fate was entwined by Juraj’s own hastiness and inability to think rationally or entirely about the situation as a whole.
Abruptly, Lichnova sprang towards the exit, ‘Come, Juraj, the clerk, there is not much more we can do now for Milos, but I know where I might find Vladislav.’ Spoken with intent and surefootedness, her voice echoed through the empty chamber of the jail room, Milos’ warm body still swinging.
Juraj followed the inspector’s lead, who barked at the guard to cut Milos down, giving the man some dignity. Before the front door of the police house closed, she shouted back that she was onto the killer and that he was the clerk of Old Town Hotel, named Vladislav.
Running with pace and gusto, Juraj lagged behind the hasty inspector—a hunter locked on her prey, sniffing out the scent and tracking a wild beast towards its inevitable end.
Night had blackened and turned coarse as cold once more returned to Juraj, even though the hot chase and panting for breath kept him alive, blood pumping heavy, his heart almost beating itself out of his chest.
Lichnova was ruthless in her pursuit, legs moving in time with one another like a marathon sprinter fixated on their goal. Only one foot in front of the next was returned, the long-term quandary ever-nearing in sight.
‘Where are we going?’ shouted Juraj between breaths, panting heavier and with more difficulty.
‘The Dock House,’ Lichnova responded resolutely.
‘When… how?’ Panted Juraj, his breath now spent.
‘Later, Juraj, I’ll explain later.’
Juraj groaned as his legs struggled to carry him farther forward. Lichnova was a picture of admiration and strength, resolute in her task. Appreciation would have swept over Juraj, were it not for the aching in his sides, his whole body begging him for no more.
Pacing through the narrowed streets, their footsteps clanging and sounding out throughout the city, the smell of the river filled his nostrils and the whooshing and sloshing of the water slapping against the sides of the canals was a welcome sound to Juraj’s burning ears.
We must be close now, he thought to himself.
Slowing now into a walk, Lichnova turned and placed a finger to her lips, motioning to Juraj, who acknowledged with a nod and did not require a second instruction to stop running, sucking in the air and gasping through clamped teeth. They both made their way towards a dark shadow of a building, large and compiled of a wooden structure. It loomed across the river’s banks, its reflection cast across the waters, a silhouette against the back canvas of the moonlit night.
A shiver ran through Juraj’s spine. What horrors awaited them inside?
Death’s stench hung in the air, silent and waiting. Bells and metal knocked in the distance, a hum and din of noise as Juraj’s vision focused on the ominous building’s entrance.
He was here, Juraj knew it.
Lichnova clearly agreed with the sentiment. Steadfast and brave, she led them both to the perimeter of the building.
Placing her hand over a small pistol tied to her waist, she ran her fingers along the cold metal, comfort and reassurance that safety was by her side. Looking at Juraj, she nodded, seeking affirmation that he was brave enough to accompany her on the final showdown of his brother’s vengeful killer.
Juraj was ready—he wanted this. To face the evil and put an end to him so he could hurt no other. He nodded in reply to Lichnova and she reached towards the metal knob of the building. The door creaked open.
Creeping into the building, Juraj stuck close behind Lichnova, hanging to her side, trying to offer what little protection he could, though in reality, they both knew it was she protecting him.
Inside was dark and dim, light barely existing, only slightly slipping through miniature cracks and fissures of the wooden architecture. The moonlight slithered through like a single thread woven through its needle eye, barely noticeable, yet enough to illuminate specks of dust and decay fluttering through the air.
Breathing in the wooden musky stench, his nostrils filled with corruption and darkness, every breath reminding him of his pounding heart, which thudded away like a brute boxer pumping into a full bag, each hit as protrusive as the last.
Is this my end? How will he kill me now? Juraj questioned in a tortuous and grim dialogue, teasing at the very idea that this nature and existence had only ever been so to lead him to this very moment, which would swiftly be met with a final resolution.
A crack and a gasp, a shadow darted out from behind a stack of boxes and towards them, moving like a masked assassin. A great heave of dust rose from the floor as Lichnova slapped down hard against it.
Her pistol slid across the floor and away from her. Instinctively, Juraj rushed to grab it, throwing himself towards it with all his being, but he was too slow—the shadow was there first, greeting him with a vicious smile, the pair of eyes moving closer towards him, haunting and horrific.
Juraj looked into those terrific eyes, the hate within them searing from their orifices. Lichnova laid still below, blood trickling slowly from a headwound.
The silver barrel of the gun was pointing at Juraj, his capturer weighing down on him like a hunter standing over its trapped prey, wounded and helpless, ready to deliver the final blow.
‘How did you find me?’ he smirked, his teeth yellow, darkness seeping from his
