Clara pushed herself against the outer edges of the tree trunk and stretched out her neck before opening her eyes. All around, there were signs of the carnage unleashed from Edith’s ascendance.
The ground that surrounded Edith’s last location was scorched black. All the vegetation within that radius had been turned to ash. When a breeze picked up, the ash became airborne, which created the illusion of a heavy grey fog. Through this fog, she noted that the statue of Alice had been deformed from the heat, looking more like a collection of ant hills than a homage to one of her favourite childhood stories.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Clara said.
Her eyes lingered on the molten slag before moving further towards the centre. How she managed to miss this before, Clara had no idea, but she felt guilt to have overlooked it. In haste, she sprinted over to the quivering mass and kneeled beside Victoria.
What had once been a decaying corpse was now resurrected into the vessel of a mortally wounded woman. Gone were the signs of that parasitic creature. Still, the wounds were extensive. The temporal, frontal and zygomatic bones had all been shattered. Her jaw had been dislocated and her nose, eyes, and ears were little more than bloody craters.
Clara had served as a nurse in a combat theatre. She treated men riddled with shrapnel, others torn apart by artillery, and some were so badly burned that they begged for death. This woman had no ability to consolidate all of that pain, nor come to terms with her inevitable death.
Her fingers were bleeding profusely through what was left of her skin and muscle. Truthfully, if Victoria had been able to recover, what would that achieve? Condemned to a life of pain, but unable to find an outlet through which to express herself?
Fortunately, where God had failed to show compassion, man tipped the scales towards mercy. The wound in her back would ensure a swift death. Not even a skilled trauma surgeon had any hope of repairing her shredded spine. With such a wound, Clara could do nothing more than comfort.
She straddled Victoria’s head to steady her and caressed her hair. Clara then hummed a soft prayer, and while the words would never be heard, she hoped it would ease her transition. Victoria had been stripped of her right to choose eternal life for her soul; death was her only reward now.
A single gunshot rang out over the park, but Clara did not break her concentration. Victoria’s heart was beating strong for now. This was a young and healthy woman. Still a body could only take so much.
A helicopter swooped over the vicinity and pushed onwards to an open area big enough to accommodate its landing. Troops were sure to be headed her way, seasoned, and ready for war.
Clara did not care; she continued to comfort the dying woman. Even as boots with rattling drums of ammunition approached, she stood fast. Victoria’s heart began to beat harder, faster, all in an attempt to compensate for the blood loss. Her respiration grew more pained with every breath. Clara hoped that this poor woman was unconscious by now.
Before she knew it, the men had converged on the scene. They said nothing, yelled no orders, nor attempted to make contact. She guessed they had orders to neutralise any threats; after all, this was not her first dance with this breed of soldier. Besides, people feared the unknown, and Clara came with a very big question mark. Nonetheless, she was not about to abandon this woman.
Finally, Victoria’s heart stopped, exhausted and spent. Had this all been a dream, she might have lived a century or more. Now, she lay dead in a park with no ability to make peace. Victoria let out a gentle sigh, but the damage to her body coerced the sound to create something unearthly. Still, Clara knew that Victoria’s fight was over and hoped that her soul would move on.
Clara bowed her head in respect and said, “Amen—”
Before Clara could finish her prayer, there was a blow to the back of her skull. An impact powerful enough to render her unconscious; she was out cold before she hit the ground.
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!
Clara set down near Edith, close enough to lend support but far enough to react if there was any lingering resentment. She loved these types of situations, yearning to fight against all odds while laughing in the face of the unknown.
“Finally decided to make your entrance, I see,” Edith said flatly.
Clara smirked before responding, “Figured I’d be the finale hopper and arrive just in time to claim all the glory.”
While Edith chuckled, Clara sensed there was still tension between them. One did not stab her best friend through the chest without a reason. Since they needed to cooperate, Clara tossed her a loaded pistol. While Edith appreciated the gesture of trust, she nonetheless checked the chamber and magazine.
“I’ll never forget what they taught us back at the Tower,” Edith said.
“Not even in death,” Clara said while pulling out the police issued shotgun.
“Quick recovery?” Edith said, although it was more of an observation than a question.
“Ambrosia does wonders for the body,” Clara replied.
“Ambrosia?” Edith asked. “That stuff only works on the old gods.”
“I know,” Clara said. “Kinda makes you think—”
“What is that?” Edith asked to get back on track.
Clara did not need to look at it because this was not the first time they had crossed paths. She last set eyes on one of these things inside an abandoned temple they had built under a ziggurat. Memories of the desert and that infernal heat returned to her. She had sworn to never return, and yet, a piece of that cursed place found its way here.
“We’ve met,” Clara said flatly. “Although that’s a new twist.”
Clara was referring to the corpse the creature had used as a vessel. The victim’s skin was ashen grey and blue based solely on what was not covered in blood. Her clothes were torn, and what remained left little to the imagination. That poor woman’s fingers were literally worn to the bone.
The face had lost all signs of humanity since the eyes, nose and ears were missing. Tentacles protruded from these orifices, and bone had been shattered to accommodate their size. This mutilation further distorted the face, an act of indignity that really bothered Clara.
Some of the tentacles were probing the area, gliding over every surface in search of threats, just like the last time. However, there was another group of appendages that controlled the corpse, manipulating the victim like a marionette.
It used the woman’s arms to caress a whimpering little girl. Clara sympathised with this child; she too had been exposed to such horrors early in life. She prayed that this one be spared the life of a hunter.
“Where did you come across that thing?” Edith asked.
Clara focused on the words, steeled her resolve, and said, “The assignment that got Father Allen killed.”
Edith did not turn to face Clara, but it was clear from the shiver that ran down Edith’s spine that she was familiar with the details of that mission. One important question remained: what could they do to counter this threat?
“A Mills Bomb only managed to annoy it,” Clara said. “Small arms fire had no effect.”
A tactical squad came thundering out from the woods, and Clara hoped that Elizabeth simply missed their approach. The creature’s reaction was fast and brutal. The first wave of tentacles flew out like javelins and pierced their armoured vests. The lead men never fired a shot, instead, the tentacles lifted them up in the air while their torsos bulged.
Clara heard fabric and Kevlar strain. She knew what was about to happen, so she pushed her wings forward just in time to block erupting blood and viscera. Fortunately, Edith had done the same and, since hers were invisible, the effect was far more gruesome.
As bits of men rained all around them, one from the group must have gotten a shot off. The bang thundered through the area and left a gaping hole in the corpse’s back.
“Bad idea,” Clara said.
Her instincts had been bang on. The damage to the body provided this creature with a new orifice, and a whole slew of tentacles poured out. The attack from these quickly decimated what was left of the team.
As that creature unleashed a wave of chaos, the child progressed from soft whimpers to wailing and tears. The victim’s arms continued to rock the child, but the carnage wrought was enough to upset even a veteran hunter. What chance did this child have?
“There, there, child,” Victoria said.
“Did you hear that?” Edith asked.
Clara closed her eyes and concentrated. There was nothing else other than the panicked child.
“What are you talking about?” Clara asked.
“Please calm down. You’re safe here,” Victoria added.
“She is trying to comfort the child,” Edith said.
Clara furrowed her brow, a rare lapse in composure. In this case, Edith needed to see that her confusion was genuine.
“She? That thing hasn’t made a sound yet,” Clara said bluntly.
“Your parents will be back shortly,” Victoria said. “Then you can be in your mother’s arms.”
“Someone left the child behind,” Edith said.
Clara’s eyes went blank and, for a split second, there was nobody home. For as long as they knew each other, it had been Clara who trusted her instincts. Edith was in contrast the diligent follower of rules. For her partner to take this leap of faith, it meant this was really happening.
“You can sense its thoughts? Can’t you?” Clara asked.
Edith closed her eyes before she let down her wings and sent all of that viscera flying off into the distance. She sensed that pull, that feeling that every action taken before now had been to prepare her for this moment. Seeing that Clara was right, she simply nodded.
Clara also brushed off her wings before heading towards Edith. She walked slowly, the sway of her hips moving like a pendulum, her face glowing with a suggestive smile.
“Please stop crying, child,” Victoria said, the words resonating within Edith’s mind.
“You’re lucky that I love you,” Clara said, while ensuring that her movements remained slow and deliberate, just in case.
Edith did not move back or try to stop Clara. She simply focused on that smile, and found it infectious. Her friend had always been mischievous but, for the first time in a long time, she was seeing Clara without her mask, nor any of that bravado.
“You probably won’t survive,” Clara said. She stopped once they were close enough to feel one another’s body heat and stretched her neck out enough to whisper into Edith’s ear, “We may never see each other again.”
Edith had no words to offer. Instead, she closed her eyes as the soft tremble of those lips sent a shiver right down to her soul. She bit her lower lip in anticipation of something that would never be.
“But,” Clara said as she pulled away just enough to lick Edith’s lips on her way. “This time, God has blessed us with the opportunity to say goodbye.”
Clara smiled, winked and pressed forward until their lips made contact. The effect on them was immediate. Clara’s inhibitions melted away, while Edith struggled to keep her knees from buckling. Their tongues met, and their breathing quickened in excitement.
“Please dear,” Victoria said.
That voice dragged Edith back into reality. Clara understood what had happened and would not beg or plead for Edith to stay. They were hunters. This was part of the job and, sometimes, friends did not come home from a mission.
“Go,” Clara urged. “If God is willing, we will meet again.”
Edith was once more faced with this constant in her life: ever the faithful follower of rules, despite God taking her Angela away from her but, would she have opened her heart to Clara otherwise?
Edith handed the pistol back, smiled, closed her eyes, and focused. She thought about all of the good things in her life, and how faith had carried her this far. Faith was her weapon, one she wielded in battle against Evil.
Clara watched from a distance as Edith marched forward. There was no sensuality in the motions, instead, there was that same dogged determination from earlier. Just like those men who climbed over the trench walls during the Great War, Edith was a soldier of God and willingly served as his instrument.
When Edith approached, the tentacles did not react. The absolute calm she exuded prevented her from being seen as a threat. Still, Clara kept the shotgun at the ready just in case.
Once a set of tentacles came into contact with Edith, every limb backed away. Clearly, this thing had not been aware of her presence and reacted like any startled animal would.
Eventually, curiosity drove it to resume probing the area and found that Edith was still there. The contact did not cause this creature to burn like Clara had hoped. While these things were integral to the creation of the vampires, it did not share their weaknesses.
The tentacles became emboldened and began to wind around Edith’s body. They slid over every inch of exposed skin, looking for something. Ultimately, their goal remained unclear.
Edith gasped as one tentacle slithered beneath her knee duster. It sensed that warm crevice between her legs. Without any notice, it rammed itself home and did so with shocking speed. Edith did not fight back. Her faith remained unbroken. In her mind, and she was fulfilling God’s will.
Soon, other tentacles joined the first under the skirt, but this time, and they found an alternate path. Clara watched from where she was, aghast, but would not interfere.
Even when a tentacle exited Edith’s mouth, Clara did not move. She remained stoic, unmoved, a pillar of strength for her friend. Despite the outward appearance, she prayed for God to intervene.
Like falling into a pit of pythons, the tentacles writhed, coiled, and tightened around her friend’s chest. Again, nothing happened, and Edith was entirely under its control. The only thing that gave Clara strength was the defiance shining through Edith’s eyes.
When two of the tentacles slithered up to Edith’s head, Clara knew it was now or never. If God chose to sit this one out, Clara would take action, even if it meant scorching the Earth.
Ultimately, Clara’s involvement was not needed. Before the tentacles’ tips transformed into flechettes, a bright light surrounded Edith. Despite her friend being no longer able to speak, she imagined the word amen had been uttered.
It was one thing to be inside that circle of light and wake up as a soul on the other side of the veil. It was another matter entirely to witness the ascendance first hand.
Clara shifted her wings to block most of the direct light. She backed away slowly while ensuring she had solid footing. In the background, she heard the wind pick up, one so potent that it became her world.
What caught her off guard was the shockwave that followed. Powerful enough to whisk her off feet, it sent her flying into a tree.
“Horsefeathers!” Clara exclaimed.
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!
Given that all hell was breaking loose, Clara had no qualms about flying over the park. Since Edith had been in a foul mood, she expected to see signs of a fight. Oddly enough, it was all quiet on the western front, although there were still a lot of people fleeing. Those who lingered were further motivated to evacuate once they caught sight of a creature large enough to snatch a grown woman.
Eventually, all that remained were constabulary moving forward in teams, unsure of what was going on. That meant itchy trigger fingers which would make the earlier bunch look like mimes.
Clara purposefully chose to overshoot the scene and made sure to fly high enough to have a bird’s eye view. From up here, she made out Edith circling some sort of creature. She was not able to discern any details? Nor did she want to approach that thing either.
Elizabeth was beginning to show signs of fatigue, namely a rising heart rate. Despite Elizabeth’s legs being wrapped around her own, there were limits to endurance. Either way, Clara had no plans of dragging her friend into the fray.
Clara noticed a tall building near the periphery which was ideal as a lookout. Once they landed, Elizabeth took a while to steady herself; it seemed that her inner ear needed time to adjust.
“If you see any of the constabulary approach,” Clara said lightly, “Call me.”
Elizabeth was puzzled by the mix of terminology. Still, this request was impossible to comply with at this moment.
“Your phone’s battery gave out,” Elizabeth said.
“Horsefeathers,” Clara said. “Smoke signals?”
Elizabeth chuckled at the thought, but in all seriousness, they needed a workable solution. Nothing obvious came to mind, but while smoke signals were possible, they were hardly practical. Besides, she had no desire to attract the fire department since they might first run across whatever caused this mess.
“Your pistol—” Clara said.
“My gun—” Elizabeth said at the same time.
The girls giggled, and Clara took the opportunity to confirm that the rooftop exit was unlocked. The last thing either of them needed was for Elizabeth to end up stranded on the roof after discharging a firearm.
“Use it only if necessary. If you do, ditch the piece, then hightail it out of here,” Clara said.
As Clara took flight, Elizabeth scanned the area from behind the lip of the roof. From here, she had ample cover and a good view of most of the immediate area, a great place to keep track of the trouble going on in Wonderland.
“Just need to remember that I should act normal once I get off this roof,” Elizabeth said.
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!
Edith lunged forward, poised to plunge the blade straight into Clara’s heart. Her eyes focused on the precise spot to strike at the expense of anything else. That is, until a blur of blazing orange materialised from out of the ether.
The apparition gained definition in both shape and form, but the girl maintained a modicum of transparency. The red hair, freckles, and acolyte’s uniform were all clues to this interloper’s identity.
“Carrots,” Clara tried to say, inducing a coughing fit that sprayed liberal amounts of blood over the pavement.
Edith questioned her next step, and the why of this situation was her first thought on the matter. She had not summoned this child, nor was there a reason that she could think of. Doubt set in and infested her thoughts, much to Clara’s relief. Sadly, that coughing fit had been severe enough to render her unconscious.
Angela’s lips moved, but she was unable to vocalise. Frustrated, the apparition closed her eyes, calmed down, and materialised fully into this world.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing?” Angela questioned.
“I’m fulfilling my mission,” Edith said bluntly. Her features then softened before adding, “So I can get back to you.”
Angela smiled before wrapping her arms around her lover’s mid-section. Given their age difference, this looked more like a mother being reunited with her long lost daughter. Edith dropped the blade and lifted the child. That single moment of intimacy was enough to feel whole, wanted, and alive.
“So,” Angela said. “You think that killing the greatest love of your life will bring you back to me?”
Edith jerked her head back and blushed. She never thought it possible that Angela would defend Clara, let alone show a mastery of insight on matters that Edith had yet to admit to herself.
Angela giggled and gave Edith a quick peck on the lips, “You really thought I knew nothing of this, or even suspected?”
“How did you?” Edith asked.
“For one, you summoned me from the grave to fetch Clara. You could have chosen anyone else, like say the Reverend Mother,” Angela replied.
“And?” Edith urged the other to go on.
“I saw you two during the war,” Angela said. “That woman saved your life and endangered her own when she left behind her great coat to keep you warm in the dead of winter.”
Edith always figured that Angela had stayed within the confines of her own world. She never once questioned why Angela was able to recognise her after aging twenty-years. For this to make sense, Angela would have had to visit the overlook and keep an eye out for Edith.
Angela knew the thoughts running through Edith’s mind and said, “Yes, I saw that.” She then giggled before adding, “I wanted you to be happy. So why complicate matters?”
“That… I was aware, yes,” Edith replied.
“Just like I knew that your vigils over the mortal realm were for more than sightseeing,” Angela countered.
Angela squeezed Edith’s neck and kissed her cheek. The senior of the two did not notice any waning in affection or emotion. In fact, the opposite was true.
“Besides, I saw Clara fall to the mortal realm around the same time you did,” Angela said with a nod. “Happened right after that shockwave hit us.”
“You mean?” Edith asked.
“That she was telling you the truth?” Angela asked to confirm. “Yes, Gabriel confirmed it for me. Although that wasn’t the biggest surprise.”
“Oh?” Edith asked.
Angela kissed Edith passionately before pushing herself away and landed on the pavement. She then walked over to Clara, placed her wrist against the wounded woman’s forehead, and shook her head. She then turned to look out towards the alley’s entrance. In the distance, there were signs of panic building in the park and that meant their time was growing short.
“You were waiting for me when I got home,” Angela said with a straight face.
“I was home?” Edith queried.
Angela nodded, “The incarnation of you who never became an angel. The one who finally managed to find release from all of that duty and honour that haunted you in life.”
There was another Edith out there which meant there could be two Claras as well. That did a lot to explain the remnant she found back in the apartment.
“I know you don’t really get what’s going on,” Angela said.
The sounds of people in a panic were growing more pronounced. Edith turned her head to investigate and saw streams of people fleeing the park.
“Your destiny awaits,” Angela said while she pointed to the commotion in the park. “I’ll take care of Clara, just like I did for you. Remember? Now go!”
Angela’s smile was warm and compelling. She remembered seeing that beautiful child, even through the delirium induced by a near fatal infection. All the while, the sense of panic out there continued to grow.
“I love you!” Edith said before running into the chaos.
“I love you too!” Angela said with a smile.
In the back of her mind, Angela hoped that Elizabeth would get back here soon. Otherwise, Clara would not have long in this world.
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!
Elizabeth nodded, Clara began taking in the building’s details. The first thing she noticed was the presence of a doorman who kept a vigil over the entrance. Still, she had to assume there were cameras or other forms of security. With a bit of thought, she could get past the doorman, but that might risk exposure.
The last thing she needed was to draw in a swarm of constabulary. Clara was armed with what were sure to be illegal heaters, and the shotgun had a sawed off barrel. While it lost all effectiveness at range, it would do a number in close quarters.
She shifted her wings, not accustomed to keeping them constrained for so long. While annoying, it was either that or cause a small panic once people realised that her wings were not props.
Then she noticed the building was surrounded by alleys which meant there were fire escapes. The hunter smirked as a naughty little thought came across her mind.
“You mentioned a broken window?” Clara asked.
Elizabeth turned to face Clara before saying, “Oh yeah. Just down that alley.”
The alley was big enough to accommodate two way traffic and was filled with large trash bins. At this time of day, the sunshine was on the other side of the building which meant this side was well shaded and would have ample cover when breaking into the apartment.
“You’re sure?” Clara pressed.
“Yep,” Elizabeth replied, her voice remaining calm and steady.
“Good,” Clara said. “Have you ever used a peashooter?”
Elizabeth’s eyes betrayed the confusion she had over this terminology. Fortunately, some long lost memory of a gangster movie rushed to the forefront of her mind and filled in the blanks.
Clara was not sure if Elizabeth knew how to handle a weapon. She supposed the use of armaments did not come naturally to social workers. Although, technically Clara had been a nun, and that never stopped her from being trained to use a wide gamut of weapons.
Clara smiled and spread out her arms inviting the other for a hug. When Elizabeth moved in to reciprocate, Clara slipped a pistol between them. It was obvious to the recipient that this was not the first time such an exchange took place.
Right before Clara pulled away, she got on the tips of her toes and whispered into Elizabeth’s ear, “Clip is in, round is chambered, and there is no safety. Just squeeze on the trigger, and it will fire. But remember that the first shot will need a tighter squeeze.”
Before Elizabeth could ask, Clara kissed her directly on the lips. Despite this being nothing more than for show, there was a lot of passion behind the act.
“Not now,” Clara said as she pulled away. “Save it for the bedroom,” she added, while a uniformed police officer passed nearby.
Once the officer moved out of sight, Clara grabbed the other by the hand, jaywalked across the street, and stopped just at the threshold of the alley. She then pushed Elizabeth against the wall with just enough force to make passers-by take notice.
“I want you,” Clara said. “I can’t wait for us to get home,” she added with a wink, pointing suggestively toward the alley.
Wry smiles on the faces of several passersbys hinted that they got the idea. Elizabeth did not initially make the connection, and memories of this morning in the bathroom only served to cloud the issue. Still, once everything came into focus, the suggestion made her face turn a bright red.
Clara did not wait for an answer. She chuckled, smiled, and headed off into the alley. Elizabeth, led by her arm, followed her guardian angel.
They ventured deeper into the alley until they came across a cluster of dumpsters. Clara hauled Elizabeth off to the side and leaned in for a kiss which permitted her to disappear from sight.
“Keep your eyes mostly closed and pretend that I’m undoing your pants,” Clara said. “Then act like I’m about to play with your berry patch.”
Elizabeth played the game well since she was no stranger to faking sexual gratification. She looked down both sides of the alleyway and saw nothing more than foot traffic. How fortunate that one person lingered in the hopes of catching some of the show.
When Clara dropped to her knees, Elizabeth feigned surprise and closed her eyes until all she saw were silhouettes. As though a lover was actually between her legs, Elizabeth pushed her head back letting out a deep, contented sigh.
Clara had been busy stowing away her jacket in order to release her wings, but when that sound registered, she became inexplicably aroused.
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!
Evelyn hated riding in the boot of a car. Every bump or hard turn tossed her around the compartment like a rag doll. Still, this option was far better than making a run through the sewer system or waiting in that bar for someone to come sniffing around.
When the car stopped, probably for a red light, her phone chimed. The imp checked her notifications and smiled. Evelyn hated having to wait to repay her debts because that meant someone had leverage over her. That had been a common thread throughout her life, and the last thing she needed was for that habit to start up again after death.
“I’m ready to hit it on all sixes, and make this my declaration of independence,” Evelyn replied with a giggle.
* * * *
“Evelyn says that she is ready to give it her all to repay her debt,” Clara said.
Elizabeth quirked a brow. How in the world could Evelyn’s sentence equate to that? Nevertheless they clearly managed to establish a line of communication. Just in time, too, because the phone’s battery was draining fast.
“Now, I want you to ask her this,” Clara said.
Clara noticed that the waitress was hovering nearby, so she leaned over the table and whispered the rest into Elizabeth’s ear, all the while giving her friend an eyeful.
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!
Clara and Elizabeth sat facing one another in a booth while waiting for their order to arrive. This was an old style diner, one mostly found during the Second World War. This place featured a central counter, kitchen behind the back wall, and booths on the outside, adjacent to wrap-around windows.
Clara was suspicious of the black liquid in her cup. Despite having a bowl full of sugar packets and cream, she doubted that this concoction would rival last night’s drink. Meanwhile, Elizabeth was dividing her time between her phone and whatever odd quirk that this blast from the past dredged up. She was tempted to ask about her love/hate relationship with the coffee but preferred to witness it first-hand.
This morning, Elizabeth was not getting any enjoyment from catching up on the endless notifications she had amassed since her last check-in. Normally she would have loved to catch up on what her family and friends were posting on Bealzabook and Twitcher, but last night’s events made that all seem inconsequential.
Nonetheless, she quickly responded to her closest friends and ignored the rest. Elizabeth found it odd that there were no notifications from her wife, although being on tour meant she was always in transit or performing. Before putting down the phone, she scrolled through her apps. There was a nagging sense that there was something she needed to do, but could not remember what.
Meanwhile, Clara picked up the mug of coffee, swirling the contents as though they would crawl out of the cup like some lovecraftian creature. Once assured that the beverage was safe, she took a cautious sip. The reaction was both immediate and comical, doubly so coming from a woman old enough to be Elizabeth’s great-grandmother. This scene reminded her of a child tasting something bitter for the first time.
“Tastes like this coffee has been burning over a flame all night,” Clara said. She then eyed the sugar packets and said, “So, teaspoons of sugar are now individually packaged and sealed?”
Once the words registered, Elizabeth snapped out of her recursive loop. She then looked at the bowl of packets and chuckled.
“Yeah,” Elizabeth replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Well… Isn’t it wasteful?” Clara mused while tearing apart four packets.
Elizabeth was about to explain how they were not all sugar, but that was a lesson better saved for later. Although, she did wonder if Clara would notice the taste of artificial sweeteners.
“People can take packets with them when the order is to go, it is cleaner, and saves them having to refill the dispensers,” Elizabeth said. “Besides, the paper can be recycled.”
Clara shrugged, taking a sip, and this time, her reaction was more subdued. Another four packets were sacrificed in an attempt to make this swill safe for human consumption. When she finished pouring in the sugar, she stirred the concoction and eyed the mound of paper.
“All of that waste for sugar,” Clara sighed, and eyed the creamer. “Are those recyclable too?”
Elizabeth was about to say something, but spotted something on the television. Despite the volume being muted, she managed to infer enough from the news headline and associated pictures to know what was going on.
“Before we came here, you mentioned something about reality being shattered?” Elizabeth asked.
“Ab-so-lutely,” Clara said unfazed by the change in subject.
Elizabeth ran a search on her phone to confirm her suspicions. On her first attempt, she found a relevant Wiki page in addition to several news sites that were covering the story. Every page echoed what she saw and confirmed that Victoria’s parents were back from the dead.
“What did Hecate say?” Elizabeth asked.
Clara grabbed a creamer and shook it, unsure if it was worth a try. All the while, she mulled over her conversation with Hecate in an attempt to refine her summary.
“When I died, Saint Peter talked about the chances of my becoming a goddess had I taken her up on the offer. He also mentioned that I could have ended up a chew toy for making the same deal,” Clara said.
“Why the lack of certainty?” Elizabeth asked.
Clara smiled while she pulled off the lid and sniffed the contents of the creamer, “He told me that our ability to choose throws a kink in determining the future.”
“So our actions are not?” Elizabeth began to ask, but could not think of the word.
“Predestined?” Clara said to confirm the other’s question. “No. Ultimately, every choice we make has an effect on how the world turns out,” she added while pouring in the cream.
“How was it shattered?” Elizabeth asked.
The milky white vortex in a sea of black was eventually stirred to a consistent tone of brown. Clara took a sip and paused, wondering if she could come to terms with her coffee.
“An experiment designed to alter outcomes,” Clara said while deciding on the fate of this so-called coffee. “Instead of altering a key choice in history, they ended up resurrecting alternate timelines and merging them with our own.”
“So…” Elizabeth said. “People who were declared dead years ago could be walking the earth unaware of their deaths?”
Clara took another sip. While no amount of sugar and cream would make this a great cup, she decided that it would do.
“A bit specific there,” Clara said with a grin.
“I saw them after you saved me,” Elizabeth replied. “I thought they were ghosts, but every major news network is covering that story, in addition to related news bites.”
Clara was about to ask, but she was reminded of another lingering priority. She casually retrieved the absconded phone from the inside pocket of her coat and tossed it at Elizabeth.
“Can you reach Evelyn on that thing?” Clara asked.
Elizabeth tapped on the screen and noted that it was in power save mode since it had an eight percent charge. Despite having a charger on hand, the cable she had was incompatible with this particular model.
She ran through the contact lists line by line, discounting entries that were obviously from the previous owner. Elizabeth then skipped over any numbers that were out of state. That helped to eliminate most of the entries except for Firecracker.
“Figures,” Elizabeth said. “She probably figured you wouldn’t be the one using this phone.”
Clara laughed before saying, “Girl from the reign of the Sun King assumes that a gal from the Roaring Twenties is going to have trouble adjusting to modern technology. Smart cookie.”
Elizabeth had never stopped to consider just how old her ex was. Once she put two and two together, she no longer questioned why Evelyn had been the best lay of her life.
“Yes, she is,” Elizabeth said. She clicked on the contact to open the messenger app, then looked up to ask, “So what is it that you want me to say?”
Clara leaned forward and said, “Tell her that I don’t want to be a dingle dangler, but I know who caused this off-time jive, and I’m curious if she’s interested in giving them the electric cure.”
Elizabeth’s eyes went wide and vacant. Clara snickered, since she expected that particular level of confusion.
“Relax. Write it out as I say it, so Evelyn will know that these messages are from me,” Clara said with a wink.
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!
By the time Elizabeth turned off the shower taps, the crime scene had been sanitised. The bodies had all been moved to empty units. Each was posed in an identical manner, all in an effort to create the illusion that these were ritualistic killings.
The floor turned out to be a snap to clean since ambrosia possessed several qualities, in addition to it being a powerful detergent. Given a limitless supply, Clara had no trouble scrubbing away all of that blood, including the footsteps she inadvertently left behind.
Normally, Clara would have found that kind of work tedious, but given the situation, it was both rewarding and distracting. She was reminded of a simpler time, her childhood, when the true nature of this world was masked by innocence. For a moment, Clara was envious of that grey-eyed and button-nosed little girl.
Unfortunately, ambrosia would not be able to repair the fridge door, the couch, or shattered lamp. It also did nothing to fix the hole burned through the middle of her bustier. What a shame, really. Despite the initial stench of wet dog, this attire suited her. Still, there was the coat, which concealed both the hole and her wings.
The fridge door would be a challenge to explain away. Fortunately, the door could close well-enough to form a seal, or at least after a bit of coaxing on her part. Clara wondered if this was an apartment, and in turn, worried about the repercussions.
By the time Elizabeth started up her hair dryer, Clara was back to normal. She took the time to slip back into her clothes and looked herself over in the mirror, loving the vibe it gave off.
Done with the basics, Elizabeth opened the door cautiously, unsure of what she would find. Based on Clara’s earlier breakdown, she half-expected a grisly murder scene or a gateway that led to the seventh level of hell.
“Coast is clear,” Clara said before smiling.
Nevertheless Elizabeth’s eyes ran over the entire scene and found nothing of concern, with the exception of a missing lamp, and a hole burned through the couch. While she could not see the refrigerator, the rest of the place was cleaner than before and she wondered if this was part of Clara’s coping strategy.
On the edge of the couch she saw the weapons that Clara had been carrying: two pistols, a knife, and a shotgun, the latter being illegal from the looks of it. Elizabeth’s heart sank the moment she saw them, but quickly realised that in a world this dangerous, some exceptions could be made for those with a vested interest in saving the lives of innocents.
“Looks great,” Elizabeth said before retreating to her bedroom.
Clara sat on the intact portion of the couch, leaned back, and closed her eyes. Even with the ambrosia, she found it difficult to keep going. She was dog tired, worn out, and would need something substantial in her stomach soon.
“No wonder Hecate was hooked on the stuff,” Clara said lightly.
“What was that?” Elizabeth asked.
“Nothing!” Clara blurted. “Was just thinking that I’m a bit peckish.”
Elizabeth walked out from her room. She wore a pair of jeans that hugged her hips, and a white blouse which flowed overtop her jeans. Still, despite being clothed, Clara had a great view of her bust.
Clara looked at the young woman of Asian descent and imagined tearing those clothes off. What was it about this woman that left her so infatuated? Or was there something else at play? Would Clara still feel this way if she had not been isolated from humanity for the better part of ninety years?
“You look great,” Clara said before biting the bottom of her lip.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said and found an excuse to turn away to hide the fact that she was blushing.
Elizabeth used that time to brush out a few stubborn knots from her hair. It also granted her a few moments to ponder what had been said in the bathroom moments ago.
After her cheeks cooled, Elizabeth turned to face Clara and said, “You’ve been through a lot.”
“Yeah. I’ve been fighting for the forces of good all my life,” Clara said honestly. “I had my fill tonight, you know?”
Elizabeth honestly did not know and suspected that most of her coworkers could not relate. She suspected that such trauma was more common to veterans of war, and first responders. That meant she would not be able to fall back on her training to help her deal with this.
“Can you talk about it?” Elizabeth asked.
“Honestly,” Clara said. “The less you know of the subject—the better.”
“You know, I just saw you run someone over and bitch slap my ex… who turned out to be a fucking vampire!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I have every right to know what’s going on.”
Clara’s facial features never changed she just carried on smiling. It had taken an unbelievable amount of strain for her to lose any self-control. She had been taught to stay cool under fire, to never give into her baser instincts. Either way, now was the time to remain calm, cool, and collected.
“Fair enough,” Clara said. “In short, a goddess known as Hecate, the one who brought about my death, followed a duplicate to your place, then proceeded to kill that copy in your kitchen.”
Elizabeth had indeed opened a can of worms. After the initial cocking of her brow, she found it necessary to sit down.
“She then waited for me to leave the bathroom before confronting me. Explained that a race of creatures known as Georgians shattered reality. In doing so, they caused alternate paths of history to exist concurrently with our own,” Clara said. “That’s when Sparky attacked.”
“Sparky?” Elizabeth asked.
“Sparky is one of this goddess’ personas. Hecate can choose to appear as a single individual, as one form rotating between the three, or as distinct individuals representing her three personalities,” Clara replied.
“So you’re telling me that there were—” Elizabeth tried to confirm.
“Yep! Six identical bodies! Well except for that one I turned to charcoal, but she was one helluva sour pill anyways,” Clara rambled on. “So after ingesting a lot of ambrosia, the bodies were moved, and I cleaned this place. Still, you might need to get a new fridge, lamp, and couch. Any questions?”
Elizabeth did not know what to make of this. Less than twenty-four hours ago, the world had been plain, normal, and boring. Since then, she learned that vampires were real, followed by angels, and now, old gods?
“What else… No wait! I’m not sure that I want an answer just yet,” Elizabeth said.
“Bit much for the grey matter to take in?” Clara asked. “It takes time. Many of our acolytes didn’t make it past that aspect of our training.”
“How did you?” Elizabeth queried.
Clara sighed, and took a quick look at her wings. It appeared as though they were going to be visible from here on out.
“I’ve known since I was little,” Clara said. “Father was a chew toy for a ghoul when I was little. Two years later, that thing came back for Mum, so I hid under the bed and stabbed it repeatedly until it ran away.”
Elizabeth listened intently to those words, and wondered how Clara ever managed to hold things together this long. These events involved monsters, creatures that terrorised humanity for millennia. Perhaps the inhumanity of her prey, combined with faith, shielded Clara’s mind from all that trauma.
“Of course, I knew nothing about those events. That’s part of a ghoul’s power, you see. They can make you forget. Still, there is always a part of you that remains aware,” Clara continued.
“So how did you find out?” Elizabeth asked.
“Simple answer—these insights came to me after death,” Clara said. Since she wanted to avoid delving further on that subject, she added, “I’m starving.”
“Let me grab my coat,” Elizabeth said as she got up to head towards the coat closet.
Clara happily evaded another round of queries. It was great to let it all out, but the recipient needed time to process it. When Elizabeth passed the kitchen island, she noticed the amphora sitting there.
“Are you expecting company anytime soon?” Clara asked while packing away her weapons.
Elizabeth found that an odd question but figured Clara was avoiding making a reference to her wife. In a way, she was thankful for the consideration, although Elizabeth would need to come to terms with her own failures as a spouse.
“No.” Elizabeth answered. “Why?”
“I don’t want you or anyone else going near that amphora. It contains ambrosia,” Clara said.
“Ambrosia?” Elizabeth said while slipping on her long coat.
Clara walked over, smiled, and ran the zipper up Elizabeth’s jacket, but she stopped when in proximity of those breasts. Their closeness felt right, but Clara was clearly in control of her faculties now.
“Yes. Do not touch or drink the contents of that amphora,” Clara said. “Understood?”
Elizabeth looked over at the object, and noted how its unearthly glow lit up the kitchen. Without lingering on the amphora, Elizabeth was distracted by Clara’s hands running along her cleavage while the zipper was run home.
Happy that her little diversion worked, Clara neatly folded Elizabeth’s coat collar, then offered her arm. Elizabeth blushed lightly and accepted the offer.
Once the door was locked, Clara said, “One drop of that stuff evoked a response more powerful than the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.” She then leaned in a bit closer as they walked towards the elevator and added, “Just think. Flappers were renowned for their petting parties…”
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!
Clara did not knock and entered the bathroom as though she owned it. It seemed appropriate considering that moments ago, relatively speaking, she received a first-hand demonstration on the use of modern razors.
She walked over to the sink, and after a bit of experimentation, figured out how to make the faucet work. Behind her back, a cloud of steam rose out from the shower, followed by a yelp. That’s when the naked mass of a woman jumped out of the tub, all in an attempt to escape the searing heat.
“Hot!” Elizabeth yelled.
Clara wanted to laugh since this scene had all of the elements of a classic gag, but that would do little to prepare Elizabeth. A shame that she forgot to clean up before broaching the subject.
Elizabeth’s skin was red on her back and side. Her hair was covered in conditioner, and she also managed to nick her leg. The wound was bleeding, although that would soon stop.
“Sorry,” Clara said. “I figured they would have fixed that sort of nonsense by now.”
The other was not paying attention, preoccupied with the cut and the application of toilet paper to slow the bleeding. Clara used this opportunity to wash her hands, clearing away the blood but not the memories.
“What happened?” Elizabeth asked upon noticing the black feathered wings.
Clara sighed and hoped that this reaction was muted by the running water. Clara grabbed the soap after a quick rinse, noticed there were streaks of blood everywhere.
“What do you mean?” Clara asked in an attempt to stall.
“Your wings,” Elizabeth said. “They are badass.”
Clara contorted her body in such a way to get a partial view of her rear-end before saying, “I thought I had a great ass?”
Elizabeth smirked. It appeared that this turn of phrase had not been in use during her time. How many ways could that be interpreted if one had no clue what the expression meant?
“I meant to say your wings are cool… swell… the cat’s meow,” Elizabeth said while looking for signs of recognition on Clara’s face.
“Now you decide to speak proper English?” Clara asked with a smirk. She then expanded her wings to their full size before adding, “They are the bees knees, aren’t they?”
Meanwhile, Clara was busy wiping down every surface that had blood in an attempt to clean away the evidence. She only managed to dilute the mess. Still, it appeared more pink than crimson.
“Yes…” Elizabeth began to say until she noticed the bloody footprints leading into the room. “What—”
Before Elizabeth finished that statement, Clara folded her wings and moved to embrace the amazon. Given their difference in height, Clara had to do a quick hop to wrap her arms around Elizabeth’s neck and plant a kiss.
Elizabeth was bewildered, but her sense of reason soon went down the drain. In response, she moulded her wet body into Clara’s and leaned into the kiss. The kiss was invigorating. Clara’s willing body and breasts radiated heat even through the leather. Clara willingly parted her lips, taking in Elizabeth’s tongue, and surrendered to the passion.
Their embrace lasted for minutes. They danced using their tongues, since Elizabeth was hesitant to explore Clara’s exposed back. Every so often, they came up for air, and this separation only served to deepen their desire. So why was Clara crying?
“What—,” Elizabeth tried to say.
Lost in the moment, Clara wanted nothing more than those lips and was not about to tolerate any interruptions. For the first time, she was exposed, vulnerable, but unaware of it.
“What—,” Elizabeth repeated.
“Don’t,” Clara said and tried to place a lone finger over Elizabeth’s lips.
“W—,” Elizabeth attempted to ask.
“Please,” Clara pleaded.
With the knowledge that this would go on as long as there was proximity, Elizabeth tore herself away. Despite her smaller stature, the perky brunette was the embodiment of strength. Not entirely unexpected, since Clara could wield a heavy truck door like a baseball bat.
Clara fell to her knees and began to cry. All of the emotions that were bundled up and concealed over the years chose this moment to make an appearance. As judged by the severity of Clara’s reaction, they had done so with a vengeance.
Elizabeth sensed that something life altering had taken place in the last five minutes. The change in her wings, the bloody footsteps, the need for an escape, and emotional breakdown were all indicators of trauma.
For now, there was nothing to be done about her hair, so she grabbed a towel and approached Clara cautiously. She gingerly knelt beside Clara and placed a hand on her exposed shoulder.
Clara’s reaction was immediate; she fell into Elizabeth’s arms. Tears streamed from her eyes, which would soon become puffy and red. Elizabeth held on tight and let this wave of emotion take its course. No matter how hardened an individual appeared to be, there were limits.
“I— killed her—” Clara managed to say through all of that sobbing.
“Who?” Elizabeth said in a calm and soothing voice.
“Goddess—” Clara blurted out, showing frustration at her own loss of control.
“Shhhhhh,” Elizabeth repeated. “It’s okay.”
Clara went on crying for a good five or ten minutes. Elizabeth stayed with her the entire time, realising that a fresh towel would be needed after this.
Eventually, Clara pulled away, took a deep breath, and smiled awkwardly. There was still much for her to deal with, but that moment of vulnerability had done a great deal of good for the soul. She had killed a lot of creatures in her years, many who pleaded for their lives. They were the worst, often looking so innocent before she performed the coup de grâce.
Every kill, beginning with Jack, her first love, the one who tried to torture her for information, had been one more drop of water held back by a dam. Hecate had been one drop too many, and despite the shock, this incident had been a boon for Clara.
“Thank you,” Clara said in a nasal voice, before she sniffled to breathe better.
Elizabeth smiled but realised that her bathroom was now a sauna. Steam permeated the air while humidity clung to the walls, turning into droplets that ran down every surface. The floor was also soaked and succeeded in washing away any evidence of blood.
“Oh shit!” Elizabeth said, when the cause dawned on her.
She jumped to her feet, shut the sink’s tap, and returned to the tub to ensure the water could support human life. Once the temperature was just right, Elizabeth jumped right back in. Still, it was too late; her hair needed another wash.
Clara’s weak smile turned into a smirk; the light humour helped her settle back into her normal state of mind. When Elizabeth stuck out her arm to drop her sopping wet towel, Clara burst out laughing.
There was still that mess to deal with, but Clara was more centred now and better able to think. Once a plan formed in her mind, Clara adopted the cat-who-ate-the-canary smirk.
“Are there any empty units in this block?” Clara asked.
While Elizabeth’s voice was muffled by the water, the answer came clear enough, “Units in the opposing block are being renovated… Why do you ask?”
Clara got to her feet and opened the curtain to get a better view of Elizabeth before replying, “The less you know, the better.”
With that, Clara left the bathroom, looked out the window, and quickly refined her plan. She would have no trouble reaching the fire escape on the other side, even under a heavy load. No one would suspect the bodies had flown across an alley.
Clara looked at the sky and guessed there was a solid hour before the alley was bathed in daylight. Still, she removed her leather pants and bustier. That way, if anyone called in a sighting, the police would dismiss the call. Who would trust a witness claiming they saw some naked chick with black wings leaping between buildings?
That meant she would need to pick the fridge clean to get her energy levels up and with luck, would remain accelerated. Clara concentrated until she could hear individual drops fall in the shower.
“Let’s eat,” Clara said, but an errant thought crossed her mind.
Clara reached down on the floor and picked up the amphora. Despite Hecate being no more, the glowing liquid was still filled to the brim. Clara had also been fortunate that the amphora had righted itself rather than flood this floor in ambrosia.
Clara did not dwell on that aspect. Instead, she poured three glasses and downed them all. It did not have the pep that Sparky’s bolt provided, but it was enough.
“This should help,” Clara said while picking up the first body.
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!
