Their original estimate had been in the order of weeks, but the fusion generators were roaring back to life now. When operating normally, they would be silent and undetectable to humans, functioning at frequency ranges that were beyond a human’s ability to detect. In contrast, the ramp up procedure made them impossible to conceal. While the machinery whirled back to life, the sound increased lock-step with the power levels, reminding him of gas turbines spooling up on an airliner.
For a moment, the building vibrated in harmony with the generators. The startled group looked to one another because this scenario was never meant to happen. If this were to turn into a positive feedback loop, the building would come crashing down.
Fortunately, the speed increased just enough to cancel out the harmonics. Soon, the main power would be restored and they could get some answers, or so they hoped.
Brett, who was preoccupied with the generator start-up routine, answered once he was satisfied, “Breanna activated a repair drone.”
“So I leave for a couple of hours and you find a repair drone that none of us knew about?” Mason asked.
Brett shrugged before answering, “She found it while snooping around in the inventory database.”
“Breanna!” Mason yelled, but by now, the generators were nearly silent, so it came across like he was furious.
“What!” Breanna snapped back. A few seconds later, her head peeked out from the floor above and she asked, “You called, Oh Captain, My Captain?”
“Stop that!” Mason exclaimed before adding, “Why were you searching through the inventory?”
Breanna was enjoying getting under his skin. While this had been a rough night for the lot of them, she was still bored of these petty squabbles. She needed an escape, but for now, the where and the who was still up for grabs.
Breanna let out a long woeful sigh before replying, “I thought it was time well spent compared to staring at a blank screen.”
“So, you didn’t know we had one?” Mason asked.
“No,” Breanna said in a bored tone. “Did you?”
The act of throwing the question back in Mason’s face was her way of avoiding conflict. While Brett could get away with his antics, she had no such leeway.
Georgians in their true form functioned like insect colonies here on Earth. Enclaves of Georgians were primarily composed of female workers, a small group of drones, and the Queen. Mason, Brett, and Breanna had all been workers, so gender had not been a factor until they were selected for this expedition.
Mason and Brett ended up with naughty bits on the outside and quickly developed traits that came with that toolset. Mason became the authoritarian ass who led by edict, while Brett played the part of the court jester.
Breanna had been assigned a female body, which opened up a whole array of alternate attack vectors. While the men could draw conflict by threatening some unwritten patriarchal rule, she possessed the ability to bypass most safeguards all by using her assets against the opposite sex.
Although effective, Breanna soon learned that she preferred the company of other women. There was a softness, a connection that existed during those liaisons that eluded her with men. Her age of discovery coincided with the Roaring Twenties, an era when empowered and hedonistic women were also open to exploration.
While Mason questioned Brett on what was known of the repair drone, Breanna pulled out her mobile from the depths of her pocket. She flicked through the interface until a certain name made her heart skip a beat. Without a second thought, the fiery redhead sent out a ping into the night.
“Am I going to get a reply?” Breanna hoped.
Mason tapped Breanna’s shoulder and asked, “Is everything okay?”
Breanna fumbled with the phone until she managed to press the lock button. The screen went black, and left behind the reflection of a hysterical woman.
“Fuck!” Breanna exclaimed. “Don’t do that.”
“Sorry,” Mason said in that sorry, not sorry tone.
“Yeah. Yeah,” Breanna replied while ignoring the giggle-snort that Brett made. “I’m sorry. Did I miss something?”
Mason gave her a curious look, as though he was trying to peer into the depths of her soul. Since they were no longer linked through cybernetic implants, the man gave up.
“Can we confirm—,” Mason said.
“The gain in mass?” Breanna answered while interacting with her station’s interface. She paused for a moment before adding, “The original estimates were correct.”
“That’s impossible!” Mason blurted out.
“Well, normally, yes,” Breanna said.
She switched to her phone and scanned trending headlines. There were a few articles of note, so she pushed the content onto her workstation’s display to show the group.
The first article started off with the image of a man in prison attire. The headlines read, ’Man who rode lighting, back from the grave?’ Immediately, to the side of the mugshot, they displayed the picture of a man they apprehended earlier tonight. Either they were twins or—
“Says here that police arrested a man trying to break into his former home. Authorities are baffled. Dental records and fingerprints were matched to those of the convicted serial killer, Adam Graves. The same man who was executed last year for his string of sex crimes that culminated in a series of horrific murders,” Breanna summarized. “The thing is, this man has no scars from the police shootout.”
The second article was more graphic. It contained a picture of a skyscraper superimposed over a dilapidated neighbourhood block. Some developments did integrate existing building faces into the design, but this was something else entirely. The front face of the larger structure was blocked by two boarded up buildings. In between, there were dumpsters, full of trash, which were fused in the front doors. Of course, the most disturbing element, were the people embedded into the structure. Men and women in suits were now literally part of walls erected a century ago.
“What the—,” Mason and Brett said.
“The article states that this neighbourhood was torn down shortly after the last municipal elections,” Breanna said. “Now it seems that both events happened simultaneously.”
“So—,” Mason tried to ask.
“Correct,” Breanna said. “These humans can’t create matter, or at least not on this scale. The disturbance we saw appears to have resurrected alternate timelines and integrated them with our own.”
Mason turned to face Brett who, by now, was white as a sheet. It was one thing to make a mistake that knocked out their systems. Mishaps like that could be remedied without alerting the world to their presence. However, this was a fuck up of epic proportions. People were sure to remember an alternate version of events and start asking questions. News of this event was already spreading like wildfire which would only add fuel to the fire.
“Oh shit.” Brett said in an attempt to deflect.
Breanna smiled, knowing that this court jester was about to be put in his place. She only wished that she had a big bag of popcorn on hand to enjoy the show.
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!
Upon leaving the restaurant, Elizabeth noticed that the sun had set. She cursed these short days, since fall would give way to another dreaded winter, and she shivered when a cold stiff breeze ran across her back. Nonetheless, she soldiered on towards the nearest subway station.
She was frustrated, and who could blame her? Why did no one care? Or even show concern? Was it because she was a social worker? Or had she been a better friend than the rest? It was not like Victoria bothered to send her a message, call, or even mail a postcard to explain her absence. Why even bother when the authorities were unconcerned—
“Lizzy!” Elizabeth heard from behind.
When she turned, Elizabeth was faced with the most coincidental of apparitions. This girl had not changed a bit; she was the very same firecracker she dated back in college.
“Firecracker!” Elizabeth exclaimed before falling into a deep hug.
That girl felt the same—heck she even smelled just like she remembered her. Their reunion brought a whole slew of good memories to the forefront of her mind.
“So where’s your father?” Elizabeth asked, remembering the rather serious man she came across while fooling around at this girl’s place.
Evelyn beamed her trademark smile and said, “Oh, he’s right behind you…”
Evelyn may have been smiling, but Elizabeth could read between the lines. A sense of dread creeped up from the tips of her toes to the back of her neck, every hair on her body stand out.
She felt cold and numb, unable to think nor act, even while a tiny voice in her head begged for her to do something… anything! In that moment, Elizabeth was very much like a lamb looking up with big slotted eyes to its executioners.
“What the f—” Elizabeth said.
The movement had been so fast that Elizabeth’s eyes nearly missed the change. Evelyn turned to look down at the intersection that ran perpendicular to this road and, just as quickly, shifted her gaze back to Elizabeth. This time, the smile was completely gone. Instead, her mouth hung down limply and her eyes were wide. The shock written on Evelyn’s face was enough for her to risk taking a look, but there was no time.
Just as she began to move, the sound of a speeding vehicle passed from her left ear and transitioned to her right. While the sound of the engine was intense, it was a gust of wind that followed which sent her into a tailspin.
Elizabeth’s knees gave out on instinct, just like her arms reached out to protect her face. But before she was able to react, she heard things that would never fade from memory.
It was hard to describe at first since the entire affair had taken no more than a fraction of a second. Yet her mind clearly registered the sound of metal grinding against brick. That soon changed once the individual materials reached their breaking point.
Elizabeth picked up the sound of bolts shearing, as well as metal twisting and buckling from the strain. She heard plastic crack, bricks explode, and glass shatter into a thousand pieces, the latter producing a dizzying stereophonic effect. None of this helped to calm her down.
Elizabeth was not sure if this was real or imagined, especially when she heard something akin to bones being ground into dust. That was the sound that would haunt her in life, an irony, since that was the moment her life had been spared. The crash was finished before Elizabeth reached the ground. Her body shook from the shock and it would take days for her mind to come to terms with what happened.
“You!” Evelyn shrieked.
Elizabeth cracked open her eyes and her vision was left blurred from squeezing them shut so tight. Still, she made out that Evelyn was no longer facing her. Confusion ruled over all of her senses because her mind had yet to catch up with what was going on.
There was a woman to Elizabeth’s left dressed in black leather and holding onto a car door. It was obvious the effects of the door’s weight had no bearing on how she handled herself, something Elizabeth, despite her confusion, found odd.
She had dark hair, neatly trimmed into a bob, which imbued a boyish look. Between the sharp features of her face, that impish smile, and the shapely body that glistened in black leather, Elizabeth involuntarily let out a soft gasp.
“Did I miss anything?” Clara quipped.
Before Elizabeth could say a word, an object streaked before her eyes, heading towards this new arrival. She had seen this type of effect before, but until now, only in photography, specifically long exposure shots captured in low light. Clara’s response was just as fast and the door resounded like a gong before Elizabeth made out the return volley. That sound was soon followed by the sound of someone getting a serious case of road rash.
Done with her makeshift shield, Clara left the cratered car door in the middle of the intersection. She then removed her coat to unfurl her wings, their movement only perceptible in the shadows.
To get under her opponent’s skin, Clara asked out loud, “Is this your idea of foreplay, Evelyn?”
Evelyn lifted herself up from the pavement, her head facing the new arrival. Meanwhile, Elizabeth remained where she was—in awe.
Evelyn giggled, the musical tones in her voice somehow managing to entice the onlooker, even after a case of attempted murder.
“What’s wrong with me?” Elizabeth whispered.
Despite the intoxicating effect she had on Elizabeth, the new arrival remained unmoved.
Once Evelyn regained her footing, she brushed off any filth from her clothes and said, “You look great for someone of your advanced years. So what’s your secret?”
Evelyn’s face may have been adorned with a smile, but it was strained to the point of making her lips turn white. Elizabeth cringed. This was the first time she had ever seen that girl lose her composure. Until now, she had always been the perfect fusion of happy-go-lucky and spunky.
“Death becomes me,” Clara replied.
“Oh? Not likely with that pulse,” Evelyn said.
“Like you have a leg to stand on,” Clara countered. “I never knew your kind could fake a pulse… at least, until I met you.”
Evelyn cocked a brow before she fell into an elaborate and theatrical bow. Even with visible tears in her dress, she exuded an elegance that was hard to achieve.
“We all have our quirks,” Evelyn said. “My quirks allow me to hide amongst the sheep.”
The firecracker began a slow and deliberate walk towards Clara. The purposefully elongated gait of her walk forced her hips to sway alluringly, just like a pendulum.
Clara did not seem to be bothered, nor was she threatened. While Elizabeth could see two pistols bulging from her waist, the woman made no attempt to draw either weapon.
“There is one big difference between us now,” Clara said to change the subject.
“Oh?” Evelyn asked.
Clara nodded before saying, “I shuffled off my mortal coil to get where I am, while yours was forfeit to cling onto this life.”
“Like that thing ever did me any good,” Evelyn said with disdain dripping from every word.
While Evelyn continued her advance, Elizabeth spotted a gouge on the back of her left calf. While her alluring sway did much to distract, it also contributed greatly to aggravating the wound. Was Evelyn even alive? There should have been blood gushing from that. Still, it must have taken a great deal of willpower to ignore the pain of tearing flesh from muscle. Evelyn carried on as though it was nothing, but Clara knew better since the face could only hide so much.
“Is this because her beau helped to cushion my truck’s stop?” Clara wondered.
Clara watched as the dark haired vixen approached. When they first met, nearly a century ago, she could barely resist Evelyn’s charms. Now she saw the truth behind that thin layer of flesh, the one that so easily disarmed her victims.
“Sooner or later you’d see me as the monster I really am,” Evelyn once told her, and that line had been dead on.
Clara never noticed before how the remnant of her soul clung to the stunning beauty’s flesh. She could see how damage had accumulated through centuries of wrongdoing, some acts so heinous they were considered war crimes.
“Here be monsters,” Clara muttered.
From Evelyn’s point of view, there was only opportunity. She had no reason to believe that her ulterior motives were revealed or oblivious. Some powerful creatures had tried, and failed, to read her.
“I’ve been thinking,” Evelyn said.
By that point, Evelyn was a few steps away from Clara and hung back her hand for a moment. This sleight of hand allowed her to conceal her nails transforming into a series of elongated obsidian claws. Elizabeth could see the transformation in all its detail, but could not vocalise a warning.
“That’s a first,” Clara countered.
Clara was ready though. Evelyn pounced the moment the words were spoken. Although her movements were accelerated, to Clara, it appeared as a normal attack.
She could have dodged the attack and prolonged this conflict needlessly. Unfortunately, the woman she saved was no longer the only bystander. A crowd had formed around the wreck and mobile phones were pointed in their direction.
“Gabriel is so not going to like this,” Clara said, but at this speed the words sounded like a cricket’s chirp.
Clara had the choice to absorb the blow or attack with intent of disabling her foe. There were risks and rewards to either choice, but both failed to account for a debut incurred long ago.
Instead, she grabbed Evelyn’s hand by the wrist and absorbed her opponent’s momentum. For a moment, the women were locked in place. Anyone new to the scene would assume this had all been a part of a choreographed dance performance.
Evelyn tried to counter, but Clara’s grip was strong making her the lesser in this situation. For nearly four centuries, she had hunted with impunity, overpowering her prey at will, and the change in balance left her noticeably unsettled.
For Elizabeth, this initial interaction between the two had been completely missed. In one moment, Evelyn had been preparing for an attack and in a blink of an eye, Clara was holding Evelyn by the wrist. She saw how Evelyn struggled to gain the upper hand, but that soon became the least of her worries.
Around the contact point, Evelyn’s arms began to smoke. A strong noxious smell of charred flesh wafted through the area, and despite centuries of self-control, Evelyn was unable to contain the pain.
“Arrêtez! Je vous en supplie!” Evelyn exclaimed while trying to pull away.
Clara released her grip the moment the other conceded. There was no need to worsen the damage, not unless she was forced to. Evelyn had failed to grasp what her opponent was. As a hunter, her faith could have led to an aversion, or even mild injury, for newly turned vampires. As an angel? Her faith was a thousand times stronger and came with effects to match.
“Et pourquoi, ma belle?” Evelyn asked, having reverted to her native tongue as her mind struggled to come to terms with the pain.
The hunter had been a witness to such behaviour before. People had a tendency to revert to their mother tongue during moments of great passion or pain. Clara knew that Evelyn was, for the first time in centuries, vulnerable, and that could sour the situation. So that meant the next few moments were crucial to de-escalate matters.
To confuse anyone listening in on their conversation, Clara replied in Latin, “You would have preferred death?”
Clara assumed that the imp knew the language. While it was no more than a guess, it quickly turned out to be correct.
“No one from your order has ever shown us mercy,” Evelyn replied in a rusty Latin.
“None of your kind has ever shown us any leniency,” Clara said. “Until I crossed your path.”
Perhaps it was Clara’s smile that convinced the other there were no ulterior motives. It could have been a long buried memory that resurfaced, one related to a chat they shared long ago. No matter, in that moment, Evelyn realised that Clara was holding herself accountable to a promise made long ago.
Clara reached into her pants pocket and pulled out the absconded phone. Without a second thought, she tossed it over to Evelyn.
“Here,” Clara said. “Program in what I need to contact you later.”
Evelyn compiled and tossed the phone back. Elizabeth sensed a change, that Evelyn’s attitude had shifted, and found it eerie. For the life of her, she had no clue what was going on.
“It appears as though I owe you one?” Evelyn confirmed.
Without a word, Evelyn was gone, leaving behind a momentary blur in the background that the eye barely registered. Elizabeth shrieked when the truck moved a foot but, when she turned to investigate, there was no sign of her firecracker, nor signs of the man who posed as Evelyn’s father.
“Are you okay?” Clara said to Elizabeth as she picked up her discarded coat.
“Define okay,” Elizabeth said.
With sirens calling out in the distance, Clara approached the other and chuckled. When someone was exposed to the truth at this age, the shock was sometimes too great for their minds to handle.
Clara reached out with her hand and said, “Come on, let’s go find someplace quiet.”
Elizabeth hesitated. Normally, she considered herself to be strong and assertive. One had to be when dealing with her type of cases, not to mention the requirement for professionalism, even if her heart was breaking. Still, this was a different matter entirely. No training in the world could have prepared her for this type of event. Nonetheless, this woman did save her life. So, despite the uncertainty, she took hold of the outreached hand.
Clara grabbed the hand firmly and sent Elizabeth crashing into her chest. With a firm grip, she wrapped her leather coat around the traumatised woman and held on tight.
“Sometimes it’s best not to let someone in on the plan,” Clara said in a whisper.
Just as Elizabeth’s mind began to register those words, she heard something that could only be described as a bird of prey taking flight. That had been enough to distract her from thinking about the fact they were airborne, flying over the buildings and away from prying eyes. All of that, would have been a bit much to take in at first.
On the road’s surface, Clara’s wing were outlined perfectly. That detail would only be noticed on video since bystanders were too busy looking up at the sky.
“Gabriel is going to be pissed,” Clara 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!
Elizabeth sat comfortably at a corner booth, and looked over the expansive park just outside. In the distance, high-rises poked out from above the treeline. There was all sorts of activity going on in between: people jogging, buskers performing, muggers doing their dastardly deeds, and those who spent their days feeding the pigeons. In the background, she heard quiet lounge music and the chitter chatter of people busy with their meals.
What a shame that she could not order just yet, since she was famished. Elizabeth looked down at her phone and saw that it had been a half-an-hour since her arrival. Unfortunately, Anne would be a while yet before making an entrance. To kill time, she enjoyed the view, thought about her never-ending caseload, and eyed the phone for notifications. This was nothing out of the ordinary when dealing with Anne, but she nonetheless resented that woman for making her wait.
It had been years since Elizabeth last visited this particular restaurant, and truth be told, it was too rich for her blood. Her career as a social worker, one spent dealing with runaways and abused children, did not grant her a membership to the one-percent club. Places like this trendy restaurant, with its breathtaking view, were nothing more than an indulgence. It was unfortunate that to get Anne’s attention, she needed an appropriate venue to lure her in. That, and pick up the tab.
After an additional thirty minutes and three visits from the waiter, Elizabeth lost patience and ordered a dry martini to go with her chicken Caesar salad. She reasoned that Anne could order once she arrived, whenever that happened to be.
As fate would have it, just as she handed back her menu, a tall rotund brunette came through the front door dressed in designer clothing. Clearly, that dress had to be couture, because it did a wonderful job of drawing the eyes away from certain attributes while focusing them elsewhere, in this case, that rather generous cleavage.
Elizabeth, in contrast, was a graceful and a modern woman, at least when judged by her haircut and mixed-race facial features. She had once been described as striking, a flawless beauty despite that slight scar just above her left eyebrow. While nearly invisible to most, it was a constant reminder about children and the dangerous games they played.
Anne looked around the restaurant until she caught a glimpse of Elizabeth waving. She then flashed a fake smile before sauntering towards the corner booth.
“Lizzy!” Anne exclaimed.
Anne reached out for Elizabeth who got up in time to hug. Despite Anne wearing heels, Elizabeth towered over her friend, even in flats.
“Anne! Always a pleasure. Was it a busy day at the courts?” Elizabeth asked.
This would give Anne the chance to come up with an excuse for being over an hour late. Elizabeth often wondered why she did not set appointments with Anne an hour earlier. That way, Anne would be on time, or at least from Elizabeth’s perspective.
“You know how it is,” Anne said in reply while perusing the menu nonchalantly. “What are today’s specials?”
Anne used that question as a way to change the subject. She also noted that her friend had ordered without her, a trend she found disturbing.
“I can’t, for the life of me, remember what the waiter said,” Elizabeth replied thinking that the lunch specials were no longer being offered, seeing how they ended at two. “I just ordered a salad and a drink.”
Hopefully, Anne would get the hint that this was not a sky’s the limit type of outing, Though she feared there might be some sort of penance to be paid for ordering early.
Fortunately, the waiter showed up just in time to break up the conversation. Elizabeth took in a quick sip of her drink and enjoyed how the alcohol burned the tip of her tongue. It had been a while since she last indulged in a stiff drink, and she would need a few more before this day was done.
Nonetheless, she watched with interest as Anne ordered a soup and sandwich special, along with a cosmopolitan. That choice had been appreciated, since it softened the blow to her pocketbook.
“Is that a ring on your finger?” Anne asked, noting the simple white-gold band.
Elizabeth smiled warmly and blushed before replying, “Yes. I got married a few months ago.” Her smile grew exponentially before she continued, “I married a lovely singer-songwriter named Mary Scott. We met a few years back at one of her concerts.”
In fact, this was something that Anne should have known. Had she bothered to look at Elizabeth’s Bealzabook profile.
Elizabeth digressed and added, “She’s on a country-wide tour, so we’ve not seen much of each other lately.”
“Hmmmmm,” Anne replied, the look on her face, making it clear that she was bored. “Sorry to hear… So why did you want to see me today?”
Quick and to the point. A refreshing change for her friend, but where did that come from? Throughout college, Elizabeth had never known that woman to be straightforward on anything.
Elizabeth began to question if Anne’s discomfort had something to do with her choice of spouse? Or was it the level of commitment and dedication shown for another? She had one sure-fire way to find out, so her eyes dropped down a few degrees and focused on Anne’s ample bust.
“When was the last time you remember seeing Victoria?” Elizabeth asked, all the while keeping an eye out for any telltale signs of discomfort.
True to form, Anne shifted slightly to avoid the gaze and uttered a befuddled response, “Not sure. I think it may have been a few weeks before the funeral.”
That question caught Anne off guard almost as much as Elizabeth leering. Why was she being asked such a question? Unable to ask without appearing insensitive, she tossed the ball back to the other’s court.
“You?” Anne asked.
“I was at the funeral. Do you remember how dreary it was that day? I don’t think anyone managed to exchange more than a couple of words with her. A handful of us were there for support, but she wasn’t really there,” Elizabeth said. “You know?”
Elizabeth paused to take another sip of her drink. She then looked towards the kitchen and wondered why their food was taking so long. After all, salad and cold chicken did not require a great deal of preparation.
“No one has seen hide nor hair of her since…” Elizabeth trailed off.
“No one has seen her since the funeral?” Anne asked with a hint of shock in her voice. “Wasn’t that last year?”
“Actually, it was two years ago. Shortly after the funeral, she moved out of the estate, quit her job, and then—poof!” Elizabeth said.
Since Elizabeth worked primarily with children who had a habit of running away, those actions showed up as red flags. Of course, one had to wonder what Victoria was running from.
“No updates on Bealzabook, her name isn’t listed in the phone book, her mobile was disconnected, and no one I know has seen her in years,” Elizabeth said.
“Really?” Anne asked.
The waiter brought Anne’s drink, who then gulped half of it down as a diversion.
“So why tell me all of this?” Anne asked.
Elizabeth sighed seeing as this would end up being another dead-end. Either way, she asked, “You’ve known her much longer than anyone else. I met her in college where we shared a few electives. That led to us teaming up for projects, and she ended up dragging me to those horror movie marathons. Still, you must know something? You’ve known her since high school.”
Anne sensed where this was heading and hated being lured here for this. Had it really been that long since she had last seen Victoria? While they were not the best of friends, the two had followed each other through the academy, college, and law school. She even took advantage of the vacuum Victoria left by quitting her law firm, even though several clients subsequently changed firms once they got their corrected bills.
To avoid the subject further, she deflected once more by asking something in return, “Perhaps she found herself a man?”
Elizabeth scoffed at the idea. Anne was lucky that her friend had not been sipping her drink in that moment.
“You remember what happened with Marcus back in college? I doubt she ever really recovered from that,” Elizabeth said. She then cocked her head and asked in return, “Weren’t you and Marcus an item?”
Anne turned white as a sheet and failed to reply. Elizabeth knew that Anne had been instrumental in getting Marcus away from Victoria, although that was not necessarily a herculean feat. Marcus was known for his fetishes throughout college, and since Victoria was not putting out, the rest was history. Anne was a woman who squirted on command, the least risqué of skills in her sexual repertoire, and that got his attention. In the end, it was a choice between gaining access to a family fortune in the distant future, or a quick lay. Funny how that choice seemed so simple in retrospect.
However, Elizabeth was not aware that Anne and Marcus were still a thing, available on speed-dial day or night, with no strings attached. Fortunately, Victoria never learned of the true reason of their breakup, but the way that man left her certainly merited him a special place in hell. Elizabeth had been the one left holding the pieces and spent more than her fair share of time watching horror movies with the devastated woman. Thankfully, the tapes had worn out, which granted her a merciful reprieve.
They ate in silence once the food arrived. Elizabeth was not yet done with this conversation, but felt that Anne needed to regain her composure. She kept busy by thinking back to her college days, specifically, when her interests in men came to an end and she realised how thankful she was for not ending up with her own version of Marcus. Sure, men were fine but none ever left her feeling satiated.
It was nothing more than a stroke of luck that she met her true calling for partners. Youthful, and full of spirit, a firecracker really, she had piercing green eyes and a smile that entranced. These were all traits typically found in a freshman art student. She was the reason Elizabeth liked women, along with a renewed appreciation for the arts.
Elizabeth had fond memories of that relationship, including one that involved a lot of paint, long rolls of paper, and their naked bodies. That summer had passed by like a dream and she often wondered what ever happened to her.
Oddly enough, the musical tones in Mary’s voice had the same intoxicating effects on her. While a coincidence, it created an immediate bond with Mary, a secret that Elizabeth would take to her grave.
“So, I hired a private investigator,” Elizabeth said.
She was about finished eating the last leaf of the salad. In some cultures, it was seen as a sign of respect to leave something on the plate, and she began to wonder if Anne had ever heard of that particular custom.
Anne put down her fork and sighed, All the while trying to come up with an excuse that would get her out of this. Unfortunately, nothing she thought of, would let her off the hook, or at least not without painting her as some sort of monster.
“Why are you so worried about her anyway? People like her don’t just disappear, you know? The media would be in a frenzy if she did,” Anne said.
“I thought of that. Still it doesn’t make sense that she would just drop.” Elizabeth said after she polished off her drink.
As though reading her mind, the waiter brought in a fresh martini.
“I asked the foundation looking after her parent’s affairs about her, but they refused to tell me anything. Mind you, this company is renowned for protecting the privacy of their clients,” Elizabeth said.
Before Anne could reply, Elizabeth added more to the narrative, “I came across a car salesman at a local bar. He kept on bitching about some frost queen that almost got him fired. So I flirted a bit, and he confessed that Victoria bought a car! That one nearly blew my mind.”
“No doubt,” Anne said nonchalantly, but she did agree in retrospect.
“Even that was over a year ago. So when I asked the PI, he looked into the matter and found out that her car was registered to the foundation. The address also matched the one for their corporate headquarters,” Elizabeth said.
Elizabeth began to question why she even bothered to tell Anne any of this. Could this woman to be more self-absorbed? Nonetheless, she carried on because it felt more like a confession at this point.
“That, in itself, is not out of the ordinary for those who are well off,” Elizabeth said. After a brief pause, she added, “Eventually, he managed to break into the foundation’s computer system and found the address for a unit along the park. When I visited, the place looked deserted, but there was a pungent odour coming from a broken window.”
Elizabeth was parched, so she finished half the glass and noted that Anne had made no progress on hers.
“I tried to tell the doorman, but he insisted everything was fine and not to worry. That’s the most tight-lipped bastard I ever met… then I read the newspaper.”
“News?” Anne asked, this time appearing to be genuinely interested, but Elizabeth found it difficult to be certain.
Elizabeth nodded and said. “Remember a few weeks back, some news about a car bombing in a parking garage near here?”
“That was him?” Anne asked loud enough for most of the restaurant to overhear. Then she covered her mouth, calmed down, and spoke in a hushed voice, “I thought they said it was a gas leak?”
“One of the investigators on the case is a big fan of my wife’s music. So he let me in on some of the details,” Elizabeth said.
To fuck with Anne! Elizabeth began to stare at her cleavage and this time with far less discretion. In itself, that was not a difficult task, since the woman was facing forward.
“To his knowledge, Russian anti-tank mines and ruptured gas mains are not normal occurrences in this city,” Elizabeth added.
This time, Anne said nothing, nor did she move to avert Elizabeth’s gaze. The social worker grinned, finished off her drink, and set the glass down loudly on the table. To watch Anne jump. For a moment, they laughed, but it was obvious that their nerves were frayed.
In trying to calm her nerves, Anne said, “You can’t be serious!”
“Ah, but I am,” Elizabeth replied. “Two days ago, that doorman went missing,” she added realising how ridiculous this all sounded.
Anne’s eyes grew wide before she stuttered, “Really?”
She then looked at her own phone and triggered an app that made the phone vibrate.
“Oh look at the time!” Anne exclaimed while she got up and smiled meekly. “I have a very important appointment with a client. It’s been a pleasure. So, next time lunch is on me?”
Of course, Elizabeth knew this was nothing more than an excuse. Should she expect any different from Anne? Truth be told, this had been the fourth friend she sought in as many weeks. Every time she was met with the same detached attitude, and nonchalance, always coming up empty handed.
“With friends like you, why would Victoria need any enemies?” Elizabeth shouted as Anne left the restaurant.
Frustrated, the social worker ordered another drink, and dropped her card on the table to pay her tab. With no desire to see the tally, she told the server to add up the gratuity himself. That way, she could avoid seeing the damage until her credit card statement arrived. Bored, she went back to people-watching and nursed her drink.
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!
Victoria stepped over the doorman, before making her way to the front door. Just ahead, Evelyn’s footsteps echoed when her heels made contact with the hardwood floors.
In that moment, Victoria was happy, content with the world and the part she was to play in it. She had a guide, confidant, and friend in Evelyn, a woman that saw great potential in her, something that no one else had ever seen before.
“Could this moment get any better?” Victoria whispered.
As though the gods themselves decided to intervene, the scene’s mood changed for the worse. The power cut out, which plunged them into twilight and awoke a fresh set of senses.
As a mortal, she would have been blind as a bat, but now the world retained a level of detail. To the unaccustomed, her night vision was more like seeing the world represented in a series of blueprints. She saw the outlines of objects and structures, but none of the finer details were present.
Her hearing had also been enhanced. She heard the compressor in her refrigerator slowing down and had no trouble picking up a deluge of boots stomping up the stairs. At first, the sounds were distant, but they grew in intensity until they were just outside the door.
“Is that their heart—,” Victoria wondered before a loud thump flooded her senses.
The sound forced Victoria to cover her ears in response. To the uninitiated, it was comparable to an explosive charge going off nearby.
Evelyn had no such concerns. Her years of experience taught her to control these heightened senses. Victoria watched the vampire advance at a frightening pace. Her elder knew exactly what was going on, the extent of the incursion, and how much trouble they were in.
“Run!” Evelyn exclaimed just as a second impact struck the door.
The shock from the impact caused the door to splinter around the securing mechanism. As the door swung open, the elder ran past the opening with claws extended. Victoria was confused, unsure of what was going on. That second impact left her stunned, her mind muddled, and choices unclear in the midst of so much chaos.
“Freeze!” the team leader ordered.
The word hung in the air, like an opera singer holding a note for as long as possible. Victoria opened her eyes just in time to witness Evelyn take the offensive.
Ahead of the man who barked out orders, there were four others holding a battering ram. The lot of them were dressed in black, wearing night vision goggles, and their heads were adorned with combat helmets. Her night vision did not allow her to see the word SWAT printed on their tactical vests, but she could guess that much.
Evelyn reached out for the first man on her left. Her claws ripped through the light fabric around his neck and dug into the flesh around his larynx. She then used him as a pivot to propel her knee into the face of the man on her right. That impact drove the night vision goggles into the man’s forehead and tore out the larynx of her first victim.
With the grace of a dancer, Evelyn straddled the battering ram as it fell towards the floor. Since the last two men were still holding onto the heavy implement, she grabbed the forward handles and waited.
As soon as her feet touched the floor, she gave it her all. Her strength easily propelled the battering ram away from her and towards what remained of the unsuspecting team. The ram, now a missile, flew towards the team leader and broke the wrists of those who held on.
By then, Victoria had managed to regain a modicum of coherence, just in time to witness blood gushing out in spurts, while the other man just dropped to his knees and toppled forward like a log.
The battering ram impacted the team leader’s chest. Even from this distance, Victoria heard the aramid liner stretch and strain, followed by the sound of breaking bones. With her heightened hearing, each break sounded like a branch snapping under strain.
“Run!” Evelyn screamed.
The elder swung her clawed hand at the closest man’s leg and severed the femoral artery. Without time to watch her handiwork, she turned towards the fourth man. She sprinted towards him, buried her hands into his midsection and grabbed onto his ribs. The elder pushed through the wall, disappearing behind a cloud of plaster, dust, and splinters. Once she breached the wall, she sent her shield flying towards another team who had their guns at the ready. The sound of shattering bone and ruptured organs made Victoria sick to her stomach.
Evelyn turned around to face the next wave of assailants, but they anticipated her move. Before her chest was aligned with the group, there came a loud percussive bang. There were limits to maintaining her heightened speeds for long. Had she fed recently, she might have been able to dodge the attack. Instead, the bean bag struck her in the centre of mass, crumpling her midsection as her body absorbed the shock.
Undeterred, Evelyn bared her fangs. The remnants of this team were not about to lose the initiative, so a spent shell casing sprung through the air while another round was chambered.
Evelyn pushed away from the wall just in time to take a slug to the shoulder followed by small arms fire that perforated her chest. Even though the individual shots were having little effect, it was clear the combined trauma was slowing her down.
Victoria witnessed Evelyn hit the wall hard before slumping to the floor. While the team advanced, they maintained a steady stream of fire, never giving this predator the opportunity to renew her attack.
In that moment, Victoria decided to run. She began to walk backwards, then pivoted into a run while heading towards the master bedroom. From here, she saw the narrow alley and a neighbour’s window across the divide.
It happened so fast, that her mind barely registered what had happened. She only had a vague recollection of hearing glass breaking in quick succession followed by hitting a wall head first. Then, just like that, the world faded to black.
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!
When Edith was done, she existed the bathroom feeling very much like herself. Sure, she was a bit of a flour lover, one too liberal with the powder, but that had always been her style.
On the other side of the door, she saw a map of the city. At the periphery, she found her landing site, surrounded by this neighbourhood. It was a snap to find where she was, considering there was a gold star that served as a point of reference. However, that was not what caught her eye.
For the first time tonight, she heard whispers, as though they were carried forth on the wind. In the middle of a city of concrete and steel, there was a large expanse of green that took up a huge swath of real estate. Something about that place beckoned and urged Edith to make her way there.
“Finally,” Edith said.
Now all that she needed to do was get there. Fortunately, the solution to that particular conundrum had also been solved. Beside the map, there was a phone wired directly to a cab company.
“Perfect,” Edith 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 wandered the city aimlessly. She felt so disconnected from this world. To top it all off, there was no guiding presence nor could she draw from experience to show her the way. Gabriel volunteered nothing that could have helped her to chart a course nor were there any clues offered when asked.
At least she found some clothes from that shop adjacent to her landing site. It was a bit formal for her tastes, a long flowing evening gown and overcoat, but it was warm and fit in well with her surroundings.
Edith had been pleasantly surprised by this neighbourhood, the home of a vibrant community nestled within a historical industrial park. She might have felt right at home in better times, but for now, all it did was remind of her absence from Angela and that weighed heavily on her heart.
Her high heeled stilettos echoed in the empty streets. The shoe’s leather had not stretched so they pinched her toes, and in time, would make walking difficult. Odd how all of these quirks and annoyances were so easily forgotten in the afterlife. Pain, cold, discomfort and hunger had all been a thing of the past, but now she struggled to remember enough of her training to cope.
It was one thing to think back over her countless lessons back at the Tower. Academic knowledge was easy to recollect, but that did little to remedy the problem at hand. She needed to bring forth all of that experience and push it to the forefront of her conscious mind. People said that one never forgets how to ride a bicycle, but Edith knew that was a gross oversimplification. The concepts remained, but muscle memory and the ability to balance faded over time.
On her travels, Edith passed a couple of bulls handcuffing a man over the truck’s hood. Whatever his crimes, she wondered what would happen to the vehicle. Unfortunately, Edith missed the answer by turning away. Moments later, the truck slipped into the ether, which sent the driver to the ground with a heavy thump.
Eventually, Edith came across a store and despite the crescent moon being high in the sky, it was still open. A quick look through the windows showed rows of items, ranging from confections to household goods.
A wry smile came across her face, as this was exactly the type of distraction she sought. Edith opened the door and was greeted by an electronic chime. The sound was hollow and artificial, and she immediately disliked it.
To her left, there was a young woman behind the till. The clerk, dressed in filthy oversized clothes, was furiously tapping away on a glass and metal device. The woman appeared mesmerised by this contraption, so much so that it took several attempts to rouse this woman from her stupor.
“Yeah?” the clerk asked annoyed.
Edith kept smiling, despite the urge to slap the girl. She could not put a finger on where that desire stemmed from, although it might have been related to the complete lack of civility.
“Where can I find some munitions?” Edith asked.
“Huh?” the clerk asked.
The look this girl’s face was a combination of confusion mixed with the certainly that Edith was all kinds of idiot. The desire to slap some sense into this girl gained momentum, but Edith did her best to keep smiling. A shame that did nothing to disarm the other.
“Powder, rouge, and lipstick?” Edith clarified.
The clerk sighed as though she were being asked to give up her life for king and country. To be fair, she did point out an area in the far corner of the store.
“Thank you,” Edith said.
“Whatevs,” the clerk replied.
By then, the temptation was very much front and centre, but a naughty little though brought forth an alternate solution. She headed towards the back of the store and found a cache of cosmetics. A quick glance at the glamour shots did a lot to point out how fashion changed, so much that it made finding the shade of lipstick she wanted difficult.
“Why was carmine dye no longer a thing?” Edith wondered.
Nonetheless, she picked up powder, rouge, and lipstick that suited her style. Perhaps she would look out of place with a cupid’s bow. So what? She swiped the items and moved farther back towards the rest rooms.
“Figures,” Edith said upon discovering that the door was locked.
She tightened her grip around the knob until her fingers deformed the metal and twisted with enough strength to shear the mechanism. With the door open, it was time to put her face on.
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!
Angela’s mind could not stay focused on a single thought. She re-examined every detail of what was witnessed, rearranging the scenes over and over to make sense of it all. Yet, she was no further ahead in understanding what happened. How could she? What she knew to be real was no longer so.
The young redhead sighed while leaning against the railing. From this vantage point, she watched two angels fall from the heavens. So why was it that only Clara was visible? Her eyes naturally focused on the nude and confident woman and she enjoyed that fight. The battle featured a woman of grace and beauty against a creature that plagued humanity for millennia.
“I thought we managed to contain them in our time?” Angela pondered.
That fire and drive had been on display the day they saved Edith from the ghouls. It was not a stretch to see how the love of her life had roused her from the dead to warn that particular hunter. Nor was it difficult to see how Edith could fall for her alluring and daring protégé.
“Where are you?” Angela asked while a wave of emotions overwhelmed her.
It felt as though she were underwater, trapped under the unforgiving sea, starved for air while fresh air and freedom were just beyond reach. She could see the white caps of the waves and how their unforgiving size would put ships in peril. Was breaching the surface any more merciful than drowning beneath its fury?
When a tear rolled down her cheek and onto an arm, she was roused from this storm of despair. Her training kicked in enabling her to realise how this was getting her nowhere and that she needed to focus.
From her vantage point, she saw Clara leave the bar and head towards the epicentre of the disturbance. If Edith was down there, she would be doing the same, inexplicably drawn to her objective. These ladies were both devout and faithful, their senses finely attuned to the whispers from beyond.
For now, it did her little good to linger here. Very few people did. To do so risked drawing the attention of a natural born angel. That group was probably already concerned over her last exchange with Gabriel.
“Home for now,” Angela said.
Once firmly within the grasp of familiarity and freed from the distractions of reality, would she be free to delve into the matter. The steps she needed to take were as yet unclear, although she did have allies.
That brief recall to Earth had stirred other souls from their stupors. Gone was the idea that permanent detachment from the mortal realm was ideal. A few even voiced such opinions in her company, but no one dared risk it publicly. This may have been Heaven, but there were still guards lurking about, and that was a clue to the true nature of their existence.
Perhaps some of them could be leveraged to help? She might even be able to rouse sentiment from the collective, although that would shatter their concept of reality. Most were not even aware that they were in Heaven, or that they could interact with other souls.
“Choice and self-determination,” Angela muttered.
The right to choose, wreaked havoc on the ability to predict the future. Not even Saint Peter knew the precise time and death of those who toiled below. The same applied here as well, so what did she witness earlier?
“How and why?” Angela asked.
For now, she needed to create the illusion of being an average citizen. What a shame that her stubborn mind had yet to accept her conclusion.
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!
Victoria opened her eyes and saw the perfectly flat surface of the marble floor. Every part of her body ached and even her hair hurt. She struggled to come to terms with the mechanics of that concept.
Despite being in pain, she managed to peel herself from the floor. In that moment, every single muscle in her body screamed out in agony. Funny that when faced with a great deal of pain, concerns over her hair no longer mattered.
“Where am I?” Victoria asked.
Memories of her recent escape bled back into her conscious mind. With that came the realisation that she was still at the chapel of horrors.
“Oh fuck me!” Victoria whined in desperation.
With a bit more effort, Victoria managed to gain a solid footing. Her feet were unsure of themselves, which left her wobbling, but she persisted until her balance steadied.
The first few steps were daunting, nonetheless she grew more confident. It was enough to grant her some freedom of movement, and look for an exit.
Despite the atrocities depicted in the stained glass works commemorating sin and murder in frightening detail, this place was quite beautifully designed: marble walls, supported by Corinthian columns, all adorned with gold. This chapel had a decidedly Art Deco style, one that seemed more authentic than current facsimiles.
Her eyes ran over every visible surface, and yet, she was no further ahead in finding an exit. Once she shifted her footing, her eyes caught a glimpse of a landmark behind one of the columns. Victoria strained her neck to spot golden doors, and approached carefully. It seemed appropriate to assume there were traps.
“Come on Vicky,” Victoria said to calm herself. “Don’t let your imagination get the better of you.”
There was a golden button located at the side of the door and she gasped when she got a better view. The door was meticulously engraved in solid gold; a relief depicting a scene from Dante’s Inferno gleamed in the artificial light.
She pressed the button, half-expecting a trap door to drop out from beneath her. Instead, a pleasant chime rang throughout the chapel, as the doors parted.
Without hesitation, she stepped inside, then searched for a control panel only to find there was none. Either this elevator was programmed based on the identity of the passenger, or there was only one stop.
“Only one way to—,” Victoria said.
Her knees nearly gave out when it began its high speed ascent. In a panic, Victoria grabbed onto a golden rail with enough strength, that her knuckles were white.
There were no dials nor displays visible in the elevator car. It appeared that she was just expected to enjoy the ride. In her current state, this experience was anything but pleasant leaving her to wonder how long this moment would last. The answer came when the elevator came to a complete stop. Once the doors opened, Victoria was faced with a change of scenery.
Had Victoria’s mind not been on the verge of exhaustion, she would have been enraptured by the beauty of it all. She knew of the existence of abandoned subway stations underneath the city, those left behind when new lines came into service or once stations no longer served a purpose.
Never in her life did she expect to be standing in one, let alone one so beautifully maintained. Every tile was in place and the grout was an immaculate white, a miracle since the floor tiles had to see some foot traffic from time to time.
As Victoria stepped away, the elevator’s doors slid shut. Dead ahead, there was a subway car of modern design, which lit up when she approached. Just her luck, the doors were open.
Now she was curious because this all seemed to be far too convenient. Victoria walked up to the platform’s edge, looked down the line at both ends, and saw nothing suspicious. The steel tracks shone in the station’s light and from the looks of this car, this was operational line, although clarity on serviceability of the line at its destination and where that happened to be was a different matter.
She turned around to look for clues. Victoria remembered that most stations had a map to direct visitors. Then again, elevators also had panels to indicate what the elevator was up to.
“This is getting tedious,” Victoria said with an exasperated sigh.
Unable to come up with another option, Victoria stepped through the open door of the car. This was her first time being in a subway car fitted with leather seats or one lined with mahogany and brass.
“Not exactly what you’d find on the blue line,” Victoria remarked. “So what now?”
As her question rang out into the train, the door closed behind her, and the car lunged forward. Victoria reached for one of the seats and sat down. It should not have been a surprise that this contraption was also automated.
Out back, a series of lights appeared, a fresh car activated to replace this one. Victoria watched in awe, barely able to imagine the expenses associated with running such a system. As the train moved on, the somniferous clickety-clack of the tracks embraced her mind. Soon, Victoria was sound asleep. Meanwhile, back at the station, a slick trail of blood led directly to the platform’s edge.
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!
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!
