Tomb Raider: The Legacy

Chapter 7: Killer

At first, she'd laughed at the pain. She'd had more painful cramps. She'd had to gnaw on wounds to extract bullets, place dislocated bones and twist disjointed joints. That was nothing. She smiled.

Marie had also smiled. Be careful, she warned. You all do the same. Soon you won't be laughing anymore.

And she was right, as always, for that was her specialty. As the hours passed, the pain became more constant. Longer. More intense. She stopped smiling and frowned. Well, she'd deal with it. It wasn't that hard.

Hours later it became unbearable and she began to curse under her breath, being tempted to let go of all the blasphemous swearing and vile words she had always heard from soldiers and never uttered, because she was, above all, very polite.

No. She wasn't going to swear like a vulgar villager - and above all, she was not going to scream.

In the end, the only thing she was aware of was that horrible pain turning her into a useless piece of trash. She hated that feeling of helplessness, of not knowing what to do. She hated it with all her might.

Even Marie's voice, which calmed and guided her, dissolved into the whirlwind of pulsating pain in which her body had become, but she did feel him incorporate her, encircling her with his arms and leaning her against his chest. She grabbed him with such strength as to crush his arms, but he didn't even wince.

It's ok, he told her. Breathe. I'm here.

(...)

He might have looked like a soulless brute, but he was clever and read fast. When he finished, he dropped the last folio on the table, leaned back on the couch, rubbed his eyes, and let out a long sigh of weariness.

Selma didn't dare say anything. It had been enough to read the expression on his face when he returned to her apartment hours later. She didn't know what to think.

For a moment silence fell between them. There was only the ticking of her father's wall clock, a distant memory in the past. Seeing Kurtis' face, Selma had got Zip out, taking Anna with him for a walk before the girl could realize what was happening to her father. And Marie, who was so adept at intruding as she was at getting out of the way, had managed to be taken to a nearby but comfortable hotel by taxi, of course.

So it was just her and him. After all, the Navajo woman already knew what she should know.

In the end, she couldn't stand it any longer. "So?" The archaeologist murmured, half cowering in the armchair next to him.

Kurtis sighed and pressed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "Selma, Selma, Selma..." He murmured softly. "Have you lost your mind?"

The Turk released the air she kept in her lungs and dropped back. "It's just a harmless thesis about my work in Cappadocia during the last seventeen years..." She stopped when the man stared at her with his penetrating blue eyes, and for a moment, a slight grimace animated the corner of his lips. Instinctively he began to feel the back pocket of his pants, looking for cigarettes. "A harmless thesis..." He took out a cigarette, put it in his mouth and after taking the lighter, lit it with a click. "So why are you asking me permission to publish it?"

He leaned back on the couch and slowly expelled a volute of smoke. Selma was not enthusiastic about having smokers around her, but she couldn't find it appropriate to say anything about it. "Well, ehr..." Selma blushed slightly. "After all, it's about your story. Your ancestors. Your world..."

"And you tell me now?"

She sighed. "I didn't want to... disturb..."

"... my happiness?" Now, a big, bitter grin crossed his face. "Ah yes, I've been so happy, without Eckhardt, Karel, Nephili, hybrids, Gifts or mystical Orders. But here we are, stirring up all this shit again."