He Was Her Answer

Let me begin by sharing the criteria for this story that was entered into a writing battle recently. I did not win. However, I LOVE my story. It's extreme trope but it suits the criteria very well.

My genre: Adventure

Word count max: 1000 words

My Character: Femme Fatale

My Object: Crystal Ball

The above were the criteria that had to appear in the story.

He Was Her Answer

I walk into the secondhand bookshop.

The place smells like mold, ink, and ashtrays.

I shake the rain off my fedora and stop at the counter.

A guy sits behind the desk puffing a cigar.

Without looking up, “What can I do for ya?”

I slide a piece of paper across the desk.

He reads it and freezes.

A second passes.

He looks up at me and again reads the paper: The Crystal Ball.

“I don’t carry curiosities.” He's cool as smoke.

“I heard different.” I move my trench coat to reveal my heater.

He's calm, doesn’t say a word.

He unlocks a cabinet tucked out of sight behind the counter.

He slides a book across to me.

It’s cloth-bound, nameless. The only thing on it is a gold-stamped crystal ball, catching the light like it knows something I don’t.

“Take it. It’s dangerous,” he mutters.

“So’s a gun,” I say, leaving some cash on the counter.

I haven’t taken more than two steps out of the shop when I hear a sultry female voice, “I hope you’re not planning on reading that alone.”

I turn—and there she is. Tall, blonde, dangerous. Red lips spelling trouble, leaning on a lamppost beneath a black umbrella, like the rain’s got nothing on her.

The lamplight flickers.

“What’s it to you, Sweetheart?”

“Liliane,” her lips curve as she steps forward. “I believe that book once belonged to my father.”

“Jack Bogart,” I don’t trust her. “Is that so?”

"Got a place where shadows keep secrets?" It comes out slow and loaded.

We end up in a dingy old hotel room.

I lay the book on the bed.

She reaches into her coat pocket.

My hand moves to my gun.

She pulls a small crystal ball the size of a plum and holds it over the page as though she's waiting for it to speak.

A shadowed glance draws me closer. “If it's my father’s book, the crystal will show you what you're chasing.”

Her blue eyes have me convinced.

The crystal stirs. Words writhe, and the page answers.

“If we’re gonna find the Veritas Stone, we stick together—you bring the muscle, I’ll bring the brains.”

She sounds like jazz at midnight—smooth, smoky, and full of danger.

"The stone’s power only answers once. One hand, one question, one glimpse—truth, unfiltered."

“What would a Dame like you need to know?” I don’t trust her, but I need her.

She leans in to kiss my cheek.

She smells like an angel. A part of me melts.

“Grab your coat.”

We dash through the rain and board the late-night train heading north to the old ruins of the church mentioned in the text.

“Keep your head down and that hat on,” I warn.

A man dressed in a black tailored suit approaches and reaches into his coat pocket.

We’re too late!

I get to him first.

I hit him—HARD!

Liliane has her scarf around his neck, holding him.

I hit him again, knocking him out.

I carry him to the rail car door and toss him off the train.

"Where’d you learn to fight like that?" The question cuts out sharp.

"I guess it’s time to come clean." She draws a gun, her eyes cold as steel. "I’m part of an ancient line of protectors. I’m not looking for answers from the stone. I’m here to make sure no one else does."

I should never have trusted this Dame.

She stands to adjust her pistol. “You’re going to help me get into the church!”

The train takes a corner too quickly, and she’s in my lap.

“Now, who’s helping who?” I growl, her gun is in my hand, pressing into her side.

We arrive at the church ruin just before dawn.

“You go on ahead of me, Toots,” I wave her piece, encouraging her to walk in.

She freezes mid-step. “There it is!” She’s staring at the wall, at symbols time forgot.

The sound comes too late—like a whisper from a grave.

“Thank you!” A voice comes from beside us, “Now move!”

We turn.

Two men in pinstripe suits—Gats drawn.

Goddamn it, I’ve got her gun!

Whatever I'm feelin', it's written all over me.

They know—it ain't a pistol she's packin'.

They're aiming at Liliane. I can feel it—we're a heartbeat from disaster.

Liliane feigns a faint, draws the crystal ball from her pocket.

She throws it, connects—the guy staggers.

“Shoot ‘em, Jackie Boy!”

I fire!

Dropped him between the pews.

Lead flies—smoke, shatter, chaos.

I hear a sliding sound, and just like that, Liliane vanishes.

I duck from the bullets, hiding behind the pedestal.

One left lurking in the shadows—and then I’ll find Lilaine.

Too late!

I feel the gun pressing against the back of my head.

I hear the empty click.

I’m still here.

I turn fast and swing her Pistol.

I connect, on the upswing!

He hits the ground hard.

Ran hers dry. I go for mine, tucked tight under my coat. Three rounds left. One’s got his name on it. BANG. Lights out.

I see the door marked with the symbols from The Crystal Ball.

I trace them with my finger. The door slides open.

I’m not taking any risks. I place the book at the door to keep it from locking me in.

The stairs lead me down to the tomb buried beneath the church.

Cold and dark, like the world itself has gone still.

Something stirs in the silence. No hesitation—I fire twice, shots slicing the quiet.

She’s down—still, silent.

I run to her.

She’s holding the Veritas Stone.

Goddamn it! What the hell have I done?

I sit and pull her against me. She’s bleeding out, slow as the seconds.

I sigh. “What did you ask?”

“I asked if love was in the cards for a girl like me.”

“And?” As I stroke her hair.

She stares up at me.

“It was you, Jackie Boy.” Her eyes dim, like that lone streetlight where I first saw her—flickering, fading, already gone.