What will you do when the end comes?

— Deathbringer

James gave Al a sidelong glance, his expression a blend of uncertainty and suspicion. “And it was just sitting there?”

Al nodded, solemnly, his gaze fixed on the knight. James eyed the knight as though it were a rabid beast about to strike. Taking precautionary measures, James slipped on a pair of plastic gloves. With narrowed eyes, he carefully inspected the knight, scraping off flakes of dried blood and collecting them in a bag. Although they had a strong suspicion whose blood it was, they needed to be sure.

James nodded toward the door, signalling for Al to open it. The two men entered the living room without uttering a word.

The Professors sat across from each other, hands clasped before them, their gazes locked on the blood-stained knight that stood between them on the centre table. Al noticed James shivering, but he couldn’t be certain if it was a result of the unsettling presence or simply due to the cold. Adjusting to the temperature inside was not easy, even with the jacket Al had provided.

“What about the QR code?” James asked.

Al fished inside his coat for his phone and scanned the code on the bottom of the knight through the Ziploc bag.

“It brings up a website, like before,” Al said, his gaze shifting from the black background with red text on his phone to the knight. He then read aloud, “Buy the Sword of Omens.“ Al furrowed his brows, deep in thought.

“The sword of what?”

“I have no idea,” Al replied. His frown deepened as he examined the website on his phone again. “It has a series of numbers. I think these could be some kind of coordinates.” Al tapped his foot impatiently. Clearly, an inferior mind was behind this, and they want him to play their meaningless game.

“I am going to follow it,” Al said, resolved. “The Sword of Omens must be there, somewhere.”

James leaned forward, fingers laced before him. “But Prof,” he whispered, “you have no idea who is sending these things. I think we should get the police involved—”

Al shot him a withering glare. “No,” Al interrupted. “My wife’s blood? There is no way I am leaving this to lesser men.”

“Al,” James insisted, “they knew the day and time of the student’s suicide, down to the very minute. And they have proven that they can get to you, wherever you are. I fail to see the prudence in your decision. Don’t you think it’s time to get the police involved?”

What will the police do? Al stroked his chin thoughtfully. Those doughnut-chomping civil servants are more concerned about securing their pensions than securing the streets. He would have better luck giving the evidence to preschoolers. He should have thought this through before bringing James in on it. This hymn-singing saint would want to do everything by the book.

Mighty beast.

At least he was of some use. After he confirms the blood on the knight, Al would have what he needs to do it on his own. No need for the choirboy to soil his white robe.

“Well?” James said expectantly.

Al sighed. Why on earth do church folks expect everyone to immediately align with their moral compass? The best way to deal with these types was to nod in agreement, go along to get along as they say. James would be an asset indeed, but Al would have to settle for his other friends now.

“Al…” James said, his voice slow and cautious.

Al often wondered what his facial expression must be like when others observed him lost in thought. It must be quite a sight to behold.

“Yes, you are right,” Al lied smoothly. “The security forces need to be involved.” Al stood up, giving a nod to James. “I’ll ensure the evidence gets to them and—”

James chuckled, interrupting Al, and then gave him a quizzical look. “Is this the part where you nod in agreement and then secretly shut me out of whatever you have planned?”

Al’s back stiffened, and he struggled to not betray his surprise.

“So,” James said with a pleased smile. “This is what Elizabeth meant by experiencing Al’s shutdown protocol,” James remarked, observing Al closely yet not really expecting a response. “I take it we are not going to the police then,” James said, pointing at the knight.

Al nodded, still unsure about how to feel having been read like an open book. It was strange enough when Elizabeth did it, but now it just felt… wrong. Al let out a breath and James spread his arms. “So,” James said, “what are we going to do about it?”

“We follow the trail,” Al said, in a matter-of-fact tone, his composure returning.

James sucked in a deep breath. “And then?”

Al fixed him with a piercing gaze. What did he expect? A step-by-step guide for hunting down whoever was responsible? No, what James wanted to hear was that God would work it all out. James tilted his head upwards, conveying an air of superiority as if he were looking down at Al. In a church context, this gesture suggested a sense of moral righteousness and disagreement with Al’s course of action. It implied that James believed his advice to be unquestionably correct and expected Al to heed it without further analysis or consideration. It was remarkable how such a simple gesture could carry such a weight of judgment and self-righteousness. “Al,” James said finally, “I can’t allow you to—”

“They have Elizabeth’s blood, James,“ Al said, in a hoarse voice, his hands clasped tightly behind him as he turned away. “Whoever is sending these messages either killed her or knows who did.”

James sat and leaned back, furrowing his brow and pressing his lips together tightly. “How on earth did they even get her blood?” he murmured, the weight of his concern showing on his face.

“She was always donating blood,” Al replied absently.

James sighed. “What about the suicide?” he asked.

“What about it? It was a suicide,” Al said flatly. “Furthermore, we don’t know for sure if it is connected to the knights. The two could be mere coincidence.”

“Al,” James said soberly, “you know this was not a coincidence. The website with the countdown to the student’s suicide, the blood-stained knight… Someone is behind all of this. What’s the probability of that happening on its own?”

“Not zero,” Al answered, his tone serious. “And so, it is more than likely—”

“Mighty beast!” James cursed, throwing his hands in the air.

“I don’t need your help James,” Al said. “In fact, I recommend you stay away for the foreseeable future. I’m sure Jenna would appreciate that.”

James folded his arms and regarded his friend with a scrutinizing gaze. Al couldn’t deceive James, so he spoke honestly. He would do it on his own, he always had. He expected James to gather his belongings and seek assistance from Wilfred, or more likely, attend a prayer meeting. But to Al’s surprise, James grabbed up the knight, locked eyes with him, and said, “Okay, where do we go from here?”

For the second time that night, Al was taken aback. Instead of showing his surprise, he stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, and held James’ gaze. “I am going to kill them, James…“ he declared with determination in his voice.

James let out a heavy sigh. “I didn’t need a PhD to figure that out,” he said, his frustration evident.

“I don’t want or need your help in this, James,” Al said.

“What are you going to do, kill me too? We can either find them together or I make things way more difficult than they need to be.”

Interesting.

A small smile played on Al’s lips at the determined look in James’ eyes. “Okay,” Al said.

“Where do these coordinates take us?”