Clara unlocked her phone, dragged down her notifications, and tapped on the only one displayed. Since her phone number and accounts were new, few knew how to reach her. That keeps things nice and simple.
Subject has been released.
This sentence meant little without context and that was on purpose. An acquaintance had been wounded and captured by the authorities after a particularly nasty skirmish with a pack of werewolves. It took them months to secure her release, but tonight all that hard work paid off.
Disclaimer: This excerpt from The Van Helsing Impetus is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. The image is sourced from Pixabay.
Her ability to take on an unassuming form was an addition to her arsenal. In this form, Clara’s beauty and physical attributes were muted. While this enabled her to traverse crowds unnoticed, being so casually dismissed tore at her ego. His heart rate never even changed…
Disclaimer: This excerpt from The Van Helsing Impetus is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. The image is sourced from Pixabay.
Patrick provides an in-depth review of my two books, and makes a few guesses on what is to come. For those leery of spoilers, the author did a great job of warning you before reaching content that could spoil the read.
One of my favourite quotes from the review appears early on:
What I really love about Ms. Chartres’ writing is how she balances character moments, action and gore, with some intimate scenes thrown in for good measure.
I’d like to take the time to thank Patrick Webb for this lovely review. It is truly a blessing to have the opportunity to see how much a reader enjoyed one of my works. Thank you!
Elizabeth woke up with a start. She snapped straight into a sitting position which caused the sheets to slide off those generous breasts and pool around her hips. The cool chill of the air immediately hardened her nipples and marked the moment she noticed her nudity.
The memories of last night had dulled like they would for nightmares. Elizabeth ran a hand through her hair, fighting through the knots caused by cold sweats, tossing and turning. With every knot unravelled, she winced which further banished memories of that nightmare from her conscious mind.
“A dream,” Elizabeth whispered.
The sound of her voice was reassuring but her words rang with false hope. Surely, meeting a former lover who turned out to be a creature of the night was nothing more than a scene featured in a straight to video horror flick. The plot alone would rank amongst the worst in Victoria’s collection.
The morning chill made her shiver, so she brought the duvet up to her chest. The warmth had yet to dissipate and for a moment she was at ease, scanning the room for anything out of place. Everything was exactly where it should be except for her clothes, an oddity, since they were neatly folded at the foot of the bed.
“What?” Elizabeth asked herself.
Elizabeth had always been a bit of a slob. It was her wife who kept order amongst Elizabeth’s chaos. At first, they had disagreements about their living arrangements but that soon passed when both seceded certain habits in the name of marital bliss. Hope began to swell from within that her wife was back, that is, until she looked into her overflowing closet and saw that Mary’s suitcases were still gone.
“Mary is still on tour,” Elizabeth said under her breath.
Sensing that her mind was playing tricks on her, Elizabeth closed her eyes. Paranoia took hold and every sound further fuelled her uncertainty. Fortunately, the fact that her tongue felt like the hair of a stray dog sleeping in a dumpster behind some seedy strip club, did much to bring her back to reality.
“Oh right,” Elizabeth said just as her head began to throb.
She must have had a lot more to drink than she believed, given how memories of that chat were a mangled mess. Elizabeth had more clarity when viewing an impressionist painting than she did from her own memories at the moment.
The attempt to remember what happened only worsened the dull throbbing in her head. The young woman sighed and with one quick movement, cleared the sheets from her body. The cold air invariably made her shiver which motivated her to leap from the bed.
“Cold!” Elizabeth yelped.
She hurriedly made her way to the bathroom, passing by the darkened living room. The sun had not yet peeked over the cityscape, so only the dull orange street lights filtered through the windows.
Without a thought, she sat down to pee and absentmindedly went for a drawer within arms reach to rummage for some acetaminophen. Elizabeth shook the bottle. No sound. Since it was empty, she did a thorough search until another bottle was found and this one was almost full.
“Dammit!” Elizabeth muttered while she fussed with the child proof lid.
Eventually, the cap popped off and flew through the air. Elizabeth made a note to fetch the cap later. With her head feeling as though it were in a vice, she popped three pills into her mouth and swallowed them dry. For once, she was thankful for not having a gag reflex.
With relief delivered on both fronts, she left the bathroom, on the mend. Her eyes had adjusted to the reduced lighting, and she was able to traverse the obstacle course she called a living room.
She was thirsty and wondered what there was in the fridge to quench it. Her sense of logic urged her to grab some orange juice to hydrate and provide her with a quick boost of energy. Then again, another equally powerful voice was tempting her to start this day with a shot of Jack.
Alas, she never made it to the kitchen. Her peripheral vision caught something white against the dark pleather couch. Elizabeth stopped cold and turned to have a better look. From this vantage point, she perceived the outline of ten toes shared between two feet.
Her breathing grew short and shallow while a growing sense of panic overtook her senses. Still, she remained fixated on those feet, committing every detail to memory, namely how they were smaller, narrower, and decidedly more feminine than expected.
“Did I hook-up last night?” Elizabeth asked in a whisper.
She looked down at her ring as guilt overshadowed her desire to panic. Determined to dispel any such thoughts, she approached the couch from behind and leaned over the top until more bare skin came into focus.
Her anxiety increased with every inch uncovered, at least until she saw that the sleeper’s chest and midsection were covered with a leather bustier. Her eyes drifted down to her rather dark haired muff and further down to her silky smooth legs. Every visible part of the woman was feminine, sensual and nearly perfect.
While the sight of that great figure evoked no memories, that all changed when she gazed down the woman’s slender neck and sharp facial features. In her current pose, she looked more like a nude rendition of sleeping beauty than her guardian angel from last night.
Those suggestive lips brought to the forefront all the memories of what happened last night. The face before her dispelled any notion that this had been a nightmare. A shame, since nightmares were easier to deal with than memories of actual trauma.
Elizabeth moved to the front of the couch and watched as Clara breathed lightly. Her breasts, trapped within the confines of her bustier, rose and contracted with every breath. For the life of her, she could not figure out how this woman was still asleep.
The idea that a warrior such as this could ever be at peace made Elizabeth question several pre-existing notions. Clara ran down that man last night, then smacked around her vampire ex-girlfriend as though it were child’s play.
The cool air made her skin prickle. Clara did not seem to be bothered at all, in fact, the warm pink flesh implied that she was quite cosy and warm on the couch.
Envious, she reached down to shake her guest but confusion set in once her fingers ran over the soft texture of feathers. They were warm and airy just like her childhood pet parakeet’s feathers.
“Feathers,” Elizabeth whispered.
“Mmhmm,” Clara said before letting out a soft sigh.
Elizabeth snapped her arm back, “You’re awake?”
“Since you woke up,” Clara said calmly. “I figured that my greeting you would be more upsetting.”
“Feathers?” Elizabeth asked.
Clara nodded and said, “Would you mind stepping back a foot or two?”
Elizabeth was confused, but the smile on Clara’s face convinced her that the request was serious. When she complied, Clara sat up slowly while the sound of feathers rubbing against pleather filled the room. This time Elizabeth did not react when something brushed against her knees.
“There,” Clara said. “I miss sleeping all cocooned in warm sheets, but my wings do keep me nice and toasty warm.”
“Wings?” Elizabeth asked.
Clara nodded while shifting into a sitting position. Even with her legs crossed, the dark curls between remained visible. Elizabeth eventually noticed how the other kept a distance away from the back cushions, just like she did the night before.
“Ab-so-lutely,” Clara said. “They are normally quiet spectacular, but when I fell to Earth, they turned invisible, fortunately.”
Clara turned to her left, and fiddled with the base of the lamp until it lit up the room. This time, when she stretched, her wings cast a shadow onto the floor.
“Neat! That will probably be real popular at parties,” Clara said with a chuckle.
“No kidding,” Elizabeth said flatly as her eyes shifted back to the shadow between Clara’s legs.
Clara quickly ascertained the amazon’s focal point and said, “Is that common now?”
“Is what common?” Elizabeth replied, a bit confused.
“Sorry. A crotch smooth as the day you were born?” Clara asked, smirking as she focused on Elizabeth’s hairless berry patch.
Elizabeth’s face went bright red and she no longer felt the effects of the chilled morning air. Although, she did shift her legs to conceal obscure her light chocolate coloured flower.
“That probably explains why those guys at the bar looked at me funny,” Clara mused.
“Bar?” Elizabeth asked. She thought it best to not wait for an answer, so she replied, “It’s far more popular now, but some women do buck the trend.”
Clara smiled and stood up. For the first time, Elizabeth noticed that her angel was not all that tall. Last night, she appeared to be about the same height or smidge taller. Now that Clara had lost a bit of her lustre, she noticed there was a nine inch difference between them.
Clara clearly liked the view she had at eye level and said, “Are those common now too?”
Elizabeth looked down at her breasts which easily filled a double-D cup and specifically focused on the areola that matched her berry patch. She then noticed the grin on Clara’s face which implied that the question was made in jest rather than as a serious inquiry. Still, she also sensed that Clara was genuinely impressed by their size, shape and firmness.
“Well, I’m about the average these days,” Elizabeth replied, in awe of how forthcoming she was.
Clara looked down at her girls and while partially concealed by the bustier, they were closer to a C cup. Elizabeth watched as her saviour smiled but was not a party to this inside joke.
“I can still handle a sword though,” Clara said before looking to her left and out the window. “Sun is about to rise. We should get washed up and grab a bite to eat,” she continued after tossing a casual glance at Elizabeth’s ring finger.
The tone of those words had a devastating effect on the tension, and rightfully so. Either way, Clara was right, it was time to get up and start their search.
“Do you want to go first?” Clara asked.
Elizabeth was about to ask something, but changed her mind and said, “You go first.”
“Great,” Clara said. She took a few steps, stopped, then pivoted towards Elizabeth before asking, “Do you have a razor that I can use?”
“What! Why?” Elizabeth asked.
Clara grinned, pointing towards her bush which put the problem on display, “A gal has to blend in, you know?”
“Sure,” Elizabeth said, but immediately mulled over some random detail that she picked up from a late night documentary on the television. “Do you know what a safety razor is?”
“Does it involve a leather strap and straight blade?” Clara asked.
Elizabeth bit the bottom of her lip and said, “While I have a strap in my closet, I don’t use it for that… purpose.” Elizabeth sighed before adding, “Come on, you’ll need a towel, and scissors anyhow.”
Clara nodded and unhooked the back of her bustier. If anything, this woman was not shy about showing off her figure. She then placed the bustier neatly atop her other items, which solved the mystery surrounding her own neatly stacked attire.
“I guess it’s a bit of a jungle down there,” Clara said nonchalantly.
Elizabeth was flushed, and uncomfortable but was pretty sure that Clara would not let this progress beyond the point of no return.
“I’m spoken for,” Elizabeth whispered and for the first time in her life, was disappointed by those words.
“Do you have a lot of shampoo?” Clara asked before falling behind to follow Elizabeth.
“What—,” Elizabeth was about to ask, but once she felt the warm feathers run down her back, she got the clue.
“There should be enough,” Elizabeth said keeping eyes focused on the bathroom door.
Disclaimer: This chapter is currently in development. There are likely typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. Please do not treat this as a polished and completed work!
Once they stepped inside, Clara’s smile grew into a full on shit-eating grin. This was exactly the kind of diversion she had been looking for and she enjoyed not being compelled to go anywhere. She made sure to enjoy every moment of it.
“Wow!” Clara said excitedly after taking in a deep breath. “That smell.”
Clara spotted someone leaving the counter carrying a tall concoction of crushed ice, caramel, chocolate, and whipped cream in hand. Her grin faded, replaced by a look of utter confusion.
“That’s coffee now?” Clara asked.
Elizabeth laughed. At first, she found the familiarity of this scene and her companion’s response unnatural. Once her eyes settled on her saviour’s face, she figured that the other was playing up that new kid act. Still, she played along, curious to see how far this might go.
Clara continued to wade deeper into the shop, approaching the menu boards. From the look of things, the menu options were cryptic, something many regulars took for granted. To ease things along, Elizabeth walked up to the counter just in time to watch a clerk look up from the register.
“Can I take your order?” the clerk asked.
Elizabeth wanted to make it interesting, so she decided to spice things up by saying, “Triple Venti Soy No Foam Latte.”
The look on Clara’s face was priceless, which only served to lighten Elizabeth’s mood. Concurrently, the look of boredom on the clerk’s face was immediately replaced by glowing embers in those dark eyes. Clearly, she was not amused.
“To think, you were not able to understand me five minutes ago,” Clara said with a sigh.
Unfortunately, Elizabeth’s order did little to demonstrate how the English language actually evolved. While much of the base was the same, coffee, or at least how to order it, changed a lot over the years.
Clara smiled and asked, “Any specials tonight?”
Elizabeth noticed that Clara’s smile had a disarming effect on the clerk. To be fair, tight leather that propped up her bust accompanied by a flirtatious smile would easily disarm most.
The clerk smiled right back before replying, “Pumpkin spiced lattès are popular this time of year.”
Clara turned to look at Elizabeth. The latter immediately understood how that sentence could confuse the uninitiated.
“They add the spices used to make a pumpkin pie to your drink. It livens things up,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh!” Clara exclaimed. “That’s the bee’s knees!”
“What size?” the clerk asked after giving Clara an odd look.
“Ummm,” Clara said.
Elizabeth decided to further pester this clerk, “Venti, three shot, blonde, five pump, no fat, pumpkin spice, topped with whipped cream.”
This time, the clerk was ready, but as judged by her woeful sigh, she was looking forward to the end of her shift. Clara, on the other hand, was nearly drooling, her mind struggling to follow along. It might have been better had she just taken in the experience.
“Really? I’ve come across incantations to summon demons that were less cryptic,” Clara added matter-of-factly.
Elizabeth shrugged before replying, “We could have used the app, but this was more fun.”
“App? Never mind,” Clara said.
“Will that be all?” the clerk asked.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said.
Elizabeth then pointed her phone towards a glowing red light. The light shimmered in various shades of red followed by an electronic chime. The tally on the register then dropped to zero.
“I’m so out of the loop,” Clara mumbled.
They walked down to another spot at the counter and waited patiently while their drinks were prepared. Clara seemed surprised at how fast these drinks were being made. The last time she ordered coffee, the server had been busy flirting with any betty who crossed his path. Although, she had to expect some changes since dancing the Charleston with Elizabeth’s potential great-grandfather.
With drinks in hand, Elizabeth winked, grabbed both drinks, and then proceeded to an isolated counter. There she affixed lids, grabbed a few napkins, and found a table.
“Here,” Elizabeth said after sliding over Clara’s drink.
Clara looked at her confection dubiously. She took in the aroma of the drink, then removed the stopper from her lid. The aromas invaded her senses. Clara sighed contentedly and took a sip, putting a large smile to her face.
“Nummy,” Clara said before taking a few more sips for good measure.
Elizabeth did the sam. The familiar bitterness of her drink further served to calm her nerves. The fact that this woman was not concerned about what lurked outside did much to set her mind at ease.
“Have you been able to piece together what happened?” Clara asked.
“Not really,” Elizabeth said. “Could you?”
Clara shrugged before removing the lid from her drink. With a lone finger, she scooped up a bit of the whipped cream, eyed it mischievously, and licked it up with her tongue. Elizabeth could not help but shiver at the visual.
“The brunette was one of them,” Clara said. “We call them vampires.”
“Like Bram Stoker’s Dracula?” Elizabeth spat out.
Clara nodded, “Where do you think he got the idea?”
At this point, Elizabeth was far too rundown to be surprised by any of this. The drink’s caffeine content was sure to provide a boost of energy but that took time. The hours spent watching horror movies late at night with Victoria before exam week taught her that life could be a harsh mistress. These events simply raised the bar, by a lot.
“How did you know?” Elizabeth asked.
“We crossed paths before,” Clara replied. “Although I now see their rotting souls superimposed over their physical selves.”
“How?” Elizabeth asked.
“Comes with the job,” Clara replied, avoiding any telltale detail that could lead to a panic.
“Why were they after me?” Elizabeth asked.
Clara shrugged, sipped her drink, and enjoyed the radiating heat emanating from her belly.
“You tell me?” Clara queried.
Elizabeth tried to think about what happened and what may have triggered this encounter. Nothing came to mind, or at least nothing that seemed relevant. One question did pop into her mind and only Clara could answer.
“How did you know where to find me?” Elizabeth asked, now somewhat alarmed.
“Faith,” Clara said.
“Faith?” Elizabeth repeated.
“Yes,” Clara said. “It guided me to a truck, which in turn led me straight to you.”
Elizabeth’s beliefs were mixed like her heritage. Her father was superstitious but had no defined religious affiliation. Her mother was a Christian who dragged her to church a few times but that quickly fell by the wayside. Until now, she had not considered that major religions might actually have some truth behind all of that doctrine. Never would she think it possible for them to have a legitimate reason for being beyond the indoctrination of their flock.
Clara sensed there were a lot of questions that would need answers, so she pushed on with her own, “Why were they after you?”
“I dunno,” Elizabeth said. “They just came out of nowhere.”
“So, you’ve done nothing to deserve their attention?” Clara asked, while suspecting this was not a random incident.
“I was just heading home after having lunch with a friend,” Elizabeth countered.
Clara trusted her instincts and kept probing. Evelyn would not dare risk this level of exposure without a good reason.
“What do you do for a living?” Clara asked.
“Social worker,” Elizabeth said with pride. “I work with runaways and exploited children.”
“Would any of your clients warrant that level of response?” Clara asked bluntly to force the other to consider every aspect of the situation.
“Well… No,” Elizabeth replied.
“So, it’s not your job… not your eating habits… think Lizzie! Is there a hatchet hidden under your bed that I should know about?” Clara pressed.
“A hatchet?” Elizabeth asked.
Clara did not reply. Instead, she hummed a tune that reminded Elizabeth of a folk song. The reference was pretty dated, although recently revived when they released a television series based on the incident.
Elizabeth’s eyes glowed once she realised that Clara had been toying with a variant of her name to play on that theme. This woman may talk as though starred in an early silver screen movie, but she clearly had an abundance of wit and intelligence.
Why would Evelyn be after her? They only dated during college and she showed little interest in her friends. In fact, she always had an excuse to leave when an acquaintance showed up.
She doubted it was related to her job; the children she interacted with were not well-known, wealthy, or prodigies. Runaways tended to get in trouble with the law and sometimes involved criminal elements, but from the supernatural?
“Did anyone pass away recently?” Clara asked.
“How do you mean?” Elizabeth asked.
Clara leaned over the table which gave Elizabeth an eyeful of cleavage. Her steel-grey eyes were locked on hers and, for a moment, Elizabeth wondered if she was being judged.
“You are not thinking outside the box,” Clara said in a near-whisper. “You obviously knew Evelyn and your mind is clouded by your past… interactions. That’s not who or what she really is.”
Clara took a sip of her drink and pulled back, intent on letting Elizabeth stew for a bit. Was Elizabeth unconsciously masking the truth? Or was she simply oblivious to it?
“Again,” Clara said. “Did anyone you know die recently?”
“Just… just some private investigator that I hired,” Elizabeth said.
“Just?” Clara prodded.
“Well… I hired him to look into the disappearance of a friend,” Elizabeth answered.
“Go on,” Clara said, sending they were on the right track. “How did he die?”
“Why the sudden—,” Elizabeth started before realising where this was headed. “Police say anti-tank mines went off when he started his car.”
“That’s not a mundane occurrence around here, I gather?” Clara asked.
Elizabeth was sipping her drink when the picture came into focus. She spat out the contents of her drink and guffawed.
“No!” Elizabeth answered.
When she saw the smirk on Clara’s lips, Elizabeth realised that she had been played.
“Oh, you’re good,” Elizabeth said.
“Great-grannies always know best,” Clara said nonchalantly. “Do you know if he was working other cases? Or just yours?”
“Nothing that deserves this level of response,” Elizabeth said.
“You think? Or are you certain?” Clara asked.
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked in return.
“Elizabeth, you need to think big,” Clara said. “We all have instincts, so you just need to trust yours and stop looking at my cleavage.”
The second statement made her cheeks feel warm. Pretty soon her entire face would flush with blood and all of those telltale signs of embarrassment would be on display, her face flashing like a glitzy billboard of guilt.
“Victoria?” Elizabeth absentmindedly asked.
“Your friend?” Clara asked.
“Wha—Oh! Yes,” Elizabeth answered.
Elizabeth described the whole story related to Victoria, namely how she vanished after the funeral and left few traces of her whereabouts.
Clara listened to every word, only breaking her focus every so often to have a sip. Elizabeth talked so much that their drinks went cold before the full story was given.
“We should take a look at her place,” Clara said then looked around to discover the staff were busy cleaning up for the night. “Think we should call it a night?”
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked.
“You are running on fumes,” Clara said. “So you need time to recover. I can sleep on the couch or even the floor. Assuming you don’t mind…”
Elizabeth was both anxious about the imposition and relieved that Clara would stay nearby. However, the conflicting emotions caused her head to swirl. Given the fatigue, her mind was too numbed to adequately deal with it.
Clara got up and grabbed Elizabeth before she passed out, finding it helpful that she was stronger than the average gal. Her new friend was tall, an amazon, easily towering over Clara, and that would have made it difficult to keep her steady under normal circumstances.
After a few minutes of rifling through the chaos in Elizabeth’s purse, Clara found exactly what she needed, a home address, and with some luck, enough mad money for a cab.
“Berries,” Clara said. “Now it’s time to get me a dimbox.”
Disclaimer: This chapter is currently in development. There are likely typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. Please do not treat this as a polished and completed work!
After leaving that dive bar, Clara walked for the better part of an hour down desolate streets. Something seemed off about the city. While Clara could not think of the reason why, she knew that any city of this size should be teeming with people. So why was this entire area boarded up? There were no cars other than derelicts stripped bare. Litter covered the streets and some drifted around harmlessly, carried forth by the wind.
“How could there be any part of this city so sparsely inhabited?” Clara asked.
She did not expect an answer, nor was one provided. There were other mysteries to solve before the night was done and her musings on population density did nothing to achieve her goal.
In the distance, she spotted something and initially thought it was nothing more than a trick of the eye. Was that a truck? Clara’s heart rate rose in excitement, prompting her to focus her thoughts to bring it back down to normal. It had been a long time since she last needed to manipulate her heart rate, but Clara needed to remain calm. For now.
Before she approached the vehicle, Clara kept an eye on her surroundings. All around, there were potential avenues for an ambush or ways to mount an indirect attack. There were plenty of monsters that were smart enough to lay such traps and patient enough to wait for an unassuming victim.
“Wait till they get on my bad side,” Clara said under her breath.
Her training left her with the necessary toolset to deal with such eventualities: how to ignore the cold or the heat and put mission before self, even at the cost of her own life.
“Anything that tries to fuck with me will end up having a bad day,” Clara said casually as she approached the vehicle.
From this distance, she noted that the headlights were lit and there was a ghostly glow to them. The vehicle was old, or appeared to be at least, when compared to what she saw in modern films.
Cars had been a rich man’s luxury when Clara was a child. As time progressed, they became more popular and ubiquitous. In the last decade of her life, she even learned to drive, a useful bit of knowledge for disposing of wealthy vampires and their rides.
She never expected to come across a truck that survived the Dirty Thirties. It was a real piece of work too: bright red paint, chrome buffed to a shine. This vehicle looked better than it would have off the lot.
“Now why would anyone leave something like this lying around?” Clara asked.
Clara drew her pistol and swept the truck for any potential threats. She checked the cab, the bed, and the undercarriage, all without finding anything to worry about. Clara paused, furrowed her brow, and looked utterly confused. Simply put, this was too easy.
She eventually accepted the situation based on nothing more than faith and opened the door. Since the lights were dim, Clara popped the hood latch release and went ahead to have a closer look.
“Oh my!” Clara said in awe.
Whatever was crammed into the engine compartment looked nothing like the stock engines from her time. Every square inch of space had been used up to house the engine and supporting systems.
“Someone was compensating for something,” Clara said before letting out a snicker.
Despite everything looking shiny and new, the compartment still smelled of lubricants and petrol. It brought back some great memories of having her way with men in the back of these classics. She even learned to appreciate rumble seats.
With a sigh, she slammed the hood into place. As a final precaution, she scanned the area but again, found nothing. For many, this implied they were alone, but that was rarely true.
“Too easy,” Clara said.
Clara slid into the cab as best she could. The leather of her pants clung to the seats. Clara had no choice but to chuckle, since fate managed to save her a little surprise after all.
She looked over the console and found most of the gauges and dials to be familiar. Since the keys were in the ignition, she turned the key and as expected, nothing happened.
“Horsefeathers!” Clara swore.
Thinking back over her days of yore, Clara remembered to check the choke. Her eyes scanned every feature on the console to no avail. There were no plungers or dials for a choke.
“What now?” Clara asked herself.
The last thing Clara wanted to do was push this flivver down the road until she reached a hill. While she had no specific time and place to rendezvous, Clara sensed she was needed somewhere, and fast.
“There must be—,” Clara said but stopped when an idea ran through her mind.
She pressed down on the clutch and break until both were firmly in place. In this position, her legs were strained so she fumbled around with the seat until she could reach comfortably.
She then turned the keys and felt the engine roll over. The first pass sounded laboured, as though the engine had been kept out on a frigid winter’s eve, but on the second turn, it roared to life.
“Yes!” Clara exclaimed.
When the engine began to grunt, she pressed down on the throttle, and made this engine roar once more. In that moment, Clara knew that she was going to have a lot of fun with this truck.
She released the brake, eased off on the clutch, and gave it some gas. The truck’s rear wheels squealed releasing a noxious black cloud into the air. Before Clara had a chance to smell her handiwork, the truck was already screaming down the road.
“Di mi!” Clara exclaimed. “I think I’m in love!”
Disclaimer: This chapter is currently in development. There are likely typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. Please do not treat this as a polished and completed work!
After a lot of spit, polish, and effort, the stars have aligned. So that means I can now announce the release of my latest dark fantasy novel in both print and eBook! The Van Helsing Resurgence is the second book of the Clara Grey Adventures, and features the femme fatale readers fell in love in The Van Helsing Paradox.
This story brings forth a rich set of characters, as they navigate in a world where reality has been shattered. Alone in this modern world, Clara soon learns that while the Roaring Twenties are long gone, a heroine’s work is never done.
Thank you R.E. Moran for the hard work you’ve put into this cover! This lovely work of art is for The Van Helsing Resurgence, my second dark fantasy book for the Clara Grey Adventures. It borrows elements from its predecessor, and features a badassed Clara ready to take on the world!
With my edits nearly done, I should be able to get this book out within the next couple of weeks! While you wait, just remember: While the Roaring Twenties are long gone, a heroine’s work is never done.
Julia was not precisely sure on the where, once she came to. There was no music playing, no pool balls colliding, glass being smashed, or any other sounds associated with her pack. The familiar scent still lingered in the air, even the odour that clung to the walls, tagged to warn off other packs. Although there was something else… something new.
A squeak generated by metal rubbing against metal came to her ears, followed, but the sound of running water. In a room this quiet, her mind had no choice but to dwell on any stray sound. She tried her best to focus, but fragments from before clouded her thoughts.
“How long was I out?” Julia asked, and was silently relieved there were no telltale signs of humidity clinging to her bottom.
She opened her eyes, and light flooded her retinas which forced her to squint. The bright light was painful, and brought on a powerful headache that was sure to make this situation worse.
When she attempted to cover her eyes, bindings resisted the movement, and in her degraded state it took a while for her to realise she was tied up. Another series of jerks informed her that these knots were done by an expert, so they would not be getting out of them without help. So to stem the tide of her headache, Julia went limp.
“Horsefeathers,” Clara said. “I don’t remember getting blood out of hair being so difficult!”
“The woman,” Julia said under her breath.
They had been ordered to stay inside, and even the daughter of the alpha could not countermand such a directive. Julia had not been worried, her father had killed hundreds of times before without a scratch. So how had things gone so wrong?
Her eyes eventually adjusted to the harsh light, which allowed her to focus on details in the background. The bar looked like a bad impressionist painting, and was unable to make out the details, including the time on the clock. However, Julia did have a great view of her nipples. Wait! What?
“Bitch!” Julia yelled and immediately regretted doing so, since her headache worsened.
The faucet was turned off to strangle the flow. Now the bar was dead quiet, and it made her even more aware of just how vulnerable she was. Tied up, naked, and to top it all, she had the precursor of a wicked migraine to deal with. Was there a worse way to spend an evening?
The wooden floor creaked with every step. Clara approached with a firm and measured pace, the type associated with someone who was fully in control of the situation.
“Did you just call out my name?” Clara asked.
Julia could barely focus on that bitch. In a way, she imagined this aggressor to be a giantess, muscular, and riddled with scars. Someone over two-hundred pounds of flesh and muscle, not some skinny bitch who could lend her something nice to wear for a hot date!
“You cunt,” Julia mumbled.
She tried to spit at her father’s murderer, but she was too dehydrated to create an effective loogie. Instead, she succeeded only in drooling over herself.
Clara giggled, before saying, “Your one of his aren’t you?”
“How—How did—,” Julia attempted to ask.
“You look like him,” Clara replied honestly.
Clara turned and looked into a mirror to adjust the black leather bustier. It fit like a glove, although it took a bit of effort to put on, because she was half-a-size bigger in the chest than the donor. Over the bustier, she wore a leather coat fitted with heavy industrial zippers, one big enough to accommodate her wings, or at least when tucked-in close to her back.
“Hopefully I won’t need to fly on short notice,” Clara mused.
Her new pants were a bit short, which fit more like a pair of black leather capris. Still they would have to do, just like the boots, a small miracle, seeing as most were wearing snowshoes these days. A shame that everything had a distinct scent of dog fur, and wondered if that smell would ever fade.
“Why?” Julia asked.
Even in her weakened state, the venom pouring out from her mouth was obvious. Clara remained stoic, instead, she smiled warmly as Julia’s world faded to black. The impact to the head had been an open invitation for the Sandman to pay her a visit.
Disclaimer: This chapter is currently in development. There are likely typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. Please do not treat this as a polished and completed work!
