The little voice nods my head. “It’s good that you admitted it.”
Beatrice laughs. “And what are you going to do with it? No one will believe you, Diana Bellona, disturbed psychiatric patient, grieving from the murder of her family. You’re mad. You’ve gone off your trolley.”
“Nemesis,” says the little voice.
“What?”
“It’s Nemesis. Not Diana.”
What are you doing? I whisper.
She ignores me. “Say you’re sorry,” she says to Beatrice. “And I might go easy on you.”
Beatrice laughs. “Go easy on me? You really think that you’re going to get Constantine Storm to arrest me? There is no evidence, you fool. All you have is an anagram. It means nothing.”
“I don’t need any evidence,” says the little voice calmly. “I just wanted to be sure it was you. And now I am.”
I feel a chill. She’s called herself Nemesis. She has given herself a name, as if she is a separate entity. As if she isn’t me.
And then her arm whips out faster than I thought was possible. The edge of her hand strikes Beatrice’s arm sharply. Beatrice cries out and drops the gun, which skitters across the room.
Beatrice screeches, reaching for it. She has no chance. The little voice grabs her head and bashes it into the edge of the desk with such brute force that I’m surprised it doesn’t kill Beatrice instantly. Beatrice drops onto all fours, groaning. The little voice delivers a flying kick in her solar plexus that lifts Beatrice bodily from the ground.
What are you doing? I ask in panic. Stop it! You have her confession. Now Storm will be able to gather the evidence he needs.
“No need,” says the little voice in that calm cold manner. “I told you that I prefer vengeance to justice.”
She is methodically whacking Beatrice’s head into the floor, while Beatrice’s legs kick weakly, trying to get away. The worst part is that she is enjoying it. I can feel her satisfaction spreading through me. It feels like nourishment. Like she needs it.
I surge forward inside my head. I should have taken over well before now. Nothing happens. It is like I hit a wall. I try again, surging, trying to occupy my own head, my own limbs, my torso. My body, God dammit. My body. Except it isn’t my body. It is hers. She is wearing it effortlessly, and she doesn’t even notice my attempts to take control.
Beatrice is lying on the floor moaning. Nemesis walks my body over to where my satchel is lying on the floor. She opens it. She takes out something that looks like a small torch. It is a stunbommer. I have no idea where she got it. I’ve not seen it before. And yet there it is, coming out of my satchel.
Nemesis takes it over to Beatrice. She lowers herself onto her knees over Beatrice’s body, straddling her. She shoves the end of the stunbommer into Beatrice’s mouth. She yanks Beatrice’s hair until Beatrice opens her eyes.
“Do you know what this is?” Nemesis says. She is smiling.
Beatrice strains to see. When her eyes catch a glimpse of the stunbommer she whimpers.
“Do you know what happens when you ignite a stunbommer in someone’s mouth?” says Nemesis. “I saw it once. It’s rather remarkable really.”
Beatrice is weeping, and shaking her head frantically.
She is going to do it. Nemesis is really going to do it. Stop it! Stop it! I shout. And then I scream inside her head. She flinches.
I scream again, louder, and I surge with all of my might, gathering myself like a tidal wave and rushing, reaching for my own hand. And for the briefest moment I have control of it. My hand. I can feel it closing more tightly around the stunbommer. And I lift it, while Nemesis fights me for control. I force my hand away from Beatrice’s mouth. I force it to point the stunbommer at the mirror. I point it at my reflection.
“No!” Nemesis snarls.
But it is too late. I have pressed the button. The magic ignites. I pray that it will do what it is supposed to. The stunbomm flies towards the mirror, and does what it is designed to do when it meets a mirror. It reflects back, coming directly at me and hitting me in the chest.
It hurts like it has pummeled each of the cells in my body individually. I cannot move or feel. I can barely think. When I regain my senses I do not know how much time has passed. My ears are ringing. But I am back in my body. I am back in control.
I feel sluggish. Slow. My body reluctant to move. Stunned. This is what a stunbomm does. I can feel Beatrice moving beneath me. Weakly, but she is moving. Her hand reaches for mine. For my slack fingers. And she eases the stunbommer out of it.
I cry out a sluggish wail of panic. I slap her wi
th my other hand, clumsily, but enough to make her squeal when I hit her injured head.