The Duel ~*Part two*~

For one terrible moment Eustace waited for the moon to turn black and the clouds to go dark. He waited for the flash of lighting and roll of thunder. He waited for the wrathful voice of God to condemn him, and for the devil's eager hands to grab him around the ankle and drag him to the fiery realms of hell.

Nothing but silence followed.

Eustace looked down at his hands, expecting them to be stained red, but found they were white. Whiter than usual, in fact. The blood seemed to be completely blanched from them.

Forcing his stiff hand to relax, Eustace dropped the pistol. He stepped over the weapon as he went to his-now dead-enemy. He reached the still body and looked down at it.

He expected to feel a rush of horror and disgust directed at himself, knowing he had banished the soul of another man from his body. Yet all he felt when he saw the bleeding body of Cadmus, was an overwhelming peace, and joy. He was free, free at last! Never had Eustace know such bliss.

Bending down, Eustace pried the pistol from Cadmus's cold hand. He inspected the gun, still unfired.

"Eustace!" Marcel cried, running towards his friend.

Eustace straightened up and smiled, sure Marcel was going to congratulate Eustace on his cleverness. Here he was breathing and his foe still forever. And Eustace had never been in any real danger at all.

"What have you done?" Marcel gasped in horror. With an expressing of complete disgust on his face he looked at the dead man. "How could you do such a terrible thing Eustace?"

"Terrible?" Eustace intoned. "How can you say what I have done is terrible? I have done nothing but rid the world of a filthy demon who dared call himself a man."

Marcel turned his gaze away from Eustace as if he was ashamed to look his friend in the eye. "I thought it awful enough that you wanted to end this, this way, with a duel. You should have been strong and ignored his bitter words. But this! This is an abomination."

Eustace groaned and pushed past Marcel. "Don't be ridicules. You know as well as I that there is no shame in killing a beast, which is what he was. And be strong?" at saying this Eustace's voice took on an edge of bitter cold. "What do you know of what calls me and how greatly it calls. I would rather like to see you be that strong."

"Now you even sound like him," Marcel let out in a wail. "You just now said what Cadmus said while he tried to convince you to murder me! Only you have twisted the words around."

"I am nothing like him," Eustace growled, while he glanced at Cadmus.

"You are! And your reaction is exactly what he would want if he were yet living and whispering vile words into you ear." Marcel paused for a moment and Eustace cut in.

"I am not where near as wicked as the animal you compare me to," Eustace said, his voice full of loathing, but for the dead man or his friend it was hard to tell. "I will leave this event behind me and be a better man for it."

As Eustace spoke those words a look of hope lit Marcel's eyes, "True, you are not as far gone as him yet. There may yet be hope. Get down on your knees and beg the good Lord's forgiveness. For surly if you do you will realize the greatness of you sin and you will be truly repentant!" Marcel's words became stronger has his his excitement grew. "Your soul is not yet gone, you still have a hope."

Eustace's eyes flashed with barely suppressed anger. "If a man were to tell me I did wrong upon this night, I would sooner nail him to the cross myself than ever get on my knees and beg for his forgiveness," he spat the word out like it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

All hope left Marcel's face and a look of utter sorrow took its place. The words which came from his lips were both sad and gentle. Like the words spoken to a dieing man by a loved one. "Then you are truly dead. You have become the man you so despised."

The words which were so softly spoken caused Eustace to loose all his control. He lashed out at his friend, driving the butt of his gun into the side of Marcel's head.

With a cry of surprise and pain, Marcel fell back, dropping heavily to the ground. Eustace flung himself on the prone man. With his left hand, as his right still held the pistol, Eustace grabbed the throat of the man before him.

Marcel fought back. His body twisted and writhed as he struggled to be free. He jerked his arms, trying to yank off the hand that was trying to choke him. With his right hand he reached up and clawed Eustace's face, gouging shallow cuts on Eustace's cheek.

Eustace grunted in pain. His left hand was loosing its grip and soon Marcel would completely over power him. Eustace brought the pistol to Marcel's head, and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, and Marcel ceased his thrashing.

Eustace spent a moment breathing heavily. He looked down at the glassy eyes of his friend and felt a sting of guilt, only to banish it before it had a chance to truly grip him. He did what he had to do.

Taking a kerchief from one of Marcel's pockets, Eustace wiped his hands clean of the black powder and some blood. Once he was done cleaning himself, he got up and went to his horse. He untied it from the tree it had been tethered to and mounted it, never once looking back.

***

It was only a few hours till dawn when Eustace unlocked the door to his home and walked in. The house was dark and still. He considered for a moment going to sleep, but for several reasons he didn't. He was not tired, he would wake his wife and she would scold him, and it wouldn't be long till he would have to wake anyway.

His nerves were a bit raw, so Eustace thought he would calm them by reading before starting the duties of the day. In the dim light provided by the moon's soft rays which fell though the window, Eustace lit a candle. The window was next to his favorite chair, and usually the natural light was enough to read by. He left the room, looking for a particular book. It was one Marcel had read and told Eustace it was complete nonsense, so the chance were that it was fantastic.

Eustace walked back into the room, book in hand. He walked in slightly distracted, reading the first few lines of the book. He looked up from his reading, and froze mid stride. There was Cudmas sitting in his chair.

Eustace tore his gaze away, telling himself that couldn't be right. Having convinced himself that his tired eyes were playing tricks on him, Eustace looked back, and sucked in another breath of surprise, though his heart slowed some with relief. Cadmus was not inside sitting in his chair, but rather outside looking through the window.

Eustace considered the possibility that is was someone other than Cadmus, but discarded it immediately. The blood shot, evil eyes, the sharp cheeks, the two scrapes along the left, the disheveled cloths...it was Cadmus.

Eustace crept forward, and Cadmus walked towards Eustace as well. Eustace paused, so did Cadmus. When Eustace once more started forward, Cadmus did as well.

Wondering what game Cadmus was playing, Eustace walked all the way to the window, staring at it intensely. Upon reaching it, Eustace realized with a start that it was not Cadmus he peered at, but rather his own face reflected in the window.