The Van Helsing Impetus

By Evelyn Chartres

(Nom de plume)

Copyright 2023

Halifax, Nova Scotia

ABOUT

Clara Grey is a fallen angel, one who tried her hand at having a normal life. That experiment came to an abrupt end when werewolves kidnapped her gal. While victorious, tales from that fateful night became the stuff of legend. Now known as ‘the Valkyrie,’ she is a wanted fugitive.

She has been on the lam for months, using a nondescript persona to evade the authorities. All the while, Clara is tormented by voices from a goddess that she thought long dead.

Clara has never faced an enemy that can strike from the shadows, forcing her to align herself with the things she hunted in life. Even with an army at her back, does she have what it takes to defeat her foe?

Before reading on, be sure to consider: She may have failed at being normal, but she’s still a force to be reckoned with.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

TITLE PAGE

ABOUT

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

THE VAN HELSING IMPETUS

PROLOGUE – GHOUL HUNTERS

CHAPTER 1 – WALK OVER A GRAVE

CHAPTER 2 – DEAD AND GONE

CHAPTER 3 – FIGHT NIGHT

CHAPTER 4 – WOLFE’S SHADOW

CHAPTER 5 – ANGEL’S WAKE

CHAPTER 6 – THE OZ SOLUTION

CHAPTER 7 – INTO THE DEPTHS

CHAPTER 8 – NEEDS AND WANTS

CHAPTER 9 – NIGHT RIDER

CHAPTER 10 – SLOW-ROASTING GOEBBELS

CHAPTER 11 – SMOKE AND MIRRORS

CHAPTER 12 – FULL MOON RISING

CHAPTER 13 – SELENE’S DOMINION

CHAPTER 14 – FEATHERS AND FUR

CHAPTER 15 – FULCRUM

CHAPTER 16 – TIES THAT BIND

LEXICON

ABOUT EVELYN CHARTRES

ALSO, FROM EVELYN CHARTRES

LICENCE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I wish to thank those who helped make this novel a reality.

Amy Queau, who took on the challenge of getting this cover made. The end result turned out even better than I hoped!

Thank you, Taija Morgan, for the edits and review. While nothing is perfect, I’m certain that the biggest offenders were purged.

Lastly, I wish to thank Carin Camen, Charleen Boyle, and Kayla Ray Tidwell. These were the brave souls who read my work in its development. You are my shining stars in the night, proof that I’m not navigating these waters alone.

Evelyn Chartres (Nom de plume)

theportraitofawoman@gmail.com

http://evelynchartres.com

NOTE

The Van Helsing Impetus uses slang from the Roaring Twenties to reflect the main character’s formative era. For your convenience, a Lexicon has been added at the end of the book.

A copy is also available online. Either click on or scan the QR Code, or type in the link below:

http://bit.ly/3XBXrFd

THE VAN HELSING IMPETUS

PROLOGUE

GHOUL HUNTERS

You guys suck!” a man yelled from the sidewalk as Tyler’s van turned the corner of a busy city street.

“Hey,” Tyler said under his breath. “Fuck you.”

This was not exactly news, at least not from the loyal and dedicated fans of their competitors. For them, the Ghoul Hunters were yet another copycat paranormal investigation group who gave the others a bad name.

Even their name lacked originality, because every good name was already copyrighted. How much could the market take when Beowulf’s Bayou Babes had a regular slot on prime-time television?

That relegated the Ghoul Hunters to webcasts, podcasts, and an o-dark-stupid time slot on community cable. Tyler tried not to think about a bunch of bikini-clad rednecks with a penchant for Ye Olde English poetry having a hit show.

If not for their distinctive van, no one would have known who they were. Tyler worked in the background, dealing with the logistics, and played a part in the show’s production. While that meant no one could pick him out from a crowd, that arrangement suited him fine.

Besides, it was Tyler’s fault for even agreeing to get a custom paint job done on the van. There were three gangly silhouettes caught in the glowing crosshairs of a rifle. In his mind they resembled the slender-man myth more than what he imagined when thinking of ghouls. However, the artist was certain that he got the form right. I’m not sure how he would know…

Just short of thirty, Tyler was the middle child of the group. However, the other two sometimes referred to him as the old man on account of his old-fashioned nature by being clean shaven, with taper trimmed black hair, and walking with a slight limp. What caused the latter also gave him a thousand-mile stare. When it was time for people to back off, he would focus those nearly black eyes on them and wait for them to realise there was something dark behind his polite exterior.

“Here we are,” Kyle said from the passenger seat.

They pulled into Kyle’s parents’ driveway, located in an affluent neighbourhood associated with old money. Despite new families moving into the area over the years, Tyler always felt as though he was being judged for not matching up to the neighbourhood’s character.

Given their budget, lack of patrons and popularity, this served as their base of operations. Kyle’s parents were corporate lawyers who gave their thirty-year-old son a wide berth. As long as he stayed out of the six-o’clock news, and did not max out the credit card, they could not care less about what he did. So long as he doesn’t tarnish their reputations…

Tyler envied the host of the Ghoul Hunters. That chiselled physique, piercing blue eyes and sandy hair were like ambrosia to women, and his personality was just the cherry on top. Alas, there was no drive, everything he wanted was at his fingertips… And that includes women.

Once Tyler arrived at the basement, he flicked the light switch to shed some light on all their equipment, electronics, and sensors. They referred to this place as their Command Centre, and they had no reason to complain. We could have ended up in worse places.

They were here to lick their wounds. They had spent a week investigating rumours surrounding an old farmhouse. Local legends and historical records confirmed that several gruesome murders occurred in the home’s one-hundred-and-fifty-year history. Despite the thousands of hours of footage they captured over the weekend, the Ghoul Hunters came up with a big fat goose egg.

While die-hard fans of this genre were patient, they had their limits. Bealzabook fans, by far the most fickle, would soon drop off unless their luck improved. Other shows were known for making mountains out of molehills, like turning a chair moving an eighth of an inch by itself into the incontrovertible proof of life after death. They had to be better than these shows to draw in an audience.

Throughout the ages, people sought reassurances that their life choices would yield some sort of reward. Perhaps a paradise for the good, while damning those who strayed. It was different for him, as a combat veteran he had seen things that made him question such beliefs. Humans are not at the top of the food chain…

Every time I close my eyes, I find myself back there…

* * * *

Their platoon had been ordered to take over a forward operating base. Orders came from high up the chain, and the LT appeared uneasy about it. Word was this site was being used by special ops, which explained why there was nothing on the map. Although, it astonished him they could find anything in this dry and arid desert.

Upon reaching the base, a repurposed manor with mud walls surrounding the perimeter, Tyler found it odd there were no sentries. As a precaution the platoon did advance to contact manoeuvres and secured the location.

The place was deserted. It was as though everyone just walked off into the wastes. If that was true, then why leave their gear, munitions, and heavy weapons behind? Why was everything free of sand and dust?

For two weeks, they held the position under the punishing sunlight. Intelligence reports claimed there was no activity in the area. That meant they were alone, or the insurgents were keeping out of sight.

* * * *

On a moonless night, a patrol they sent out failed to return. The next morning, they found their bodies and equipment just outside the gate. Each soldier showed visible lacerations and were drained of blood.

Their bodies had been staged like mannequins, in the same order they left in. The LT went pale as a ghost, because there was not a drop of blood to be found. If that detail was not chilling enough, these men were found within earshot of their base, but no one heard a thing.

They requested immediate support but were denied by the brass. Meanwhile, they dispatched a detail to bring back the bodies before nightfall. Given the time needed to document and catalogue the scene, they barely got it done before the sun set. That was when they struck.

What they were was not immediately obvious. Black boots, white pants, and tunics, followed by a chapan coat that went down to knee level. When factoring in the turban, these insurgents were indistinguishable from the locals. While they approached the compound unarmed, it made little difference to the outcome.

These things could move from one side of the compound to the other in the blink of an eye. No human could throw a kitted-out infanteer across the compound, or tear one limb from limb. Sure, there were stories of people lifting oil drums over their heads when under the influence of drugs, but never applied to a coherent fighting force.

These things also knew what they were doing. They took out the LT in the first strike and systematically dismantled the command-and-control structure of the platoon. Those who remained were panicked, disorganised, and unable to mount an effective defence.

As the platoon’s most junior member, Tyler was issued the light machine gun. Without hesitation, he emptied a two-hundred-round box without hitting a thing. The barrel glowed red after he depressed the trigger, but he did not care about the wear and tear on the weapon. Instead, he loaded another drum before spotting something.

The assailants showed no interest in him, since they did not view him as a threat. That meant he had leeway, but without a plan… Wait! Are those grenade crates by the fuel point?

With a freshly minted plan in mind, Tyler grabbed one of his grenades, pulled the pin, and threw it at the cache. The grenade sailed through the air while he grabbed another. Fuck! Take cover!

He counted to five and feared it was a dud. When he counted six, there came a blast that sent a shockwave over the compound.

The detonation sent crates soaring through the air, scattering incendiary grenades all over the compound. Within moments, bright patches of fiery hell were burning throughout. Thermite was dangerous at the best of times, but tonight it was the most beautiful thing he ever set eyes on. No way that anyone’s crazy enough to venture out in that.

Tyler figured he could wait until the fires burned out. However, that plan went to hell the moment a wave of pain washed over him.

He clenched his jaw then glanced down at an insurgent gripping his leg. For all intents and purposes, it looked human. He expected to find something grotesque, like a mutilated face, black mirror-like eyes, or even a lizard tongue. There was nothing separating this man from what stared back at him in the mirror. Wait! Are those fangs protruding from his upper lip?

No matter, the pain caused Tyler to loosen his grip on the second grenade. The spoon sprang into the air, banishing his heart to the pit of his stomach. There came an audible snap, followed by a blinding flash of pain. He fumbled around for his pistol to shake off his assailant, but it was gone.

“Oh shit,” Tyler said.

With time and distance against him, he needed to get out of there. I’m not going anywhere fast with this leg.

“One,” Tyler counted, while mulling over reaching for the grenade. No time!

“Two.”

Tyler moved to stand on his good leg, while the injured one sent out waves of pain every time he moved. With no choice but to move forward, Tyler simply clenched his jaw, struggling to control his breathing as he fought through the pain. He went to take a step, but in his haste forgot about his broken leg and fell forward into an unplanned combat roll. Thank you, James T. Kirk!

“Three,” Tyler said upon reaching cover.

Unfortunately, he remained partially exposed. In the background, there came a loud whoosh which sounded a bit like a model-rocket launch.

“Four.”

He laid flat against the ground to minimise his profile. I hope this works!

“Five,” Tyler added.

This time his count was bang on. The leg nearest to the blast was torn up by shrapnel, and to be honest he barely felt a thing. While the pain would phase in once his mind registered the sheer scope of the trauma, at least he was conscious for now. That means I’m alive? Right?

Tyler heard a distant pop. A moment later, an intense white light washed over the compound.

In a corner, Tyler saw another private with a long green plastic tube. He recognised it as a parachute flare, the very thing that turned night into day just now. The insurgents had left the compound. Was it because of the intense light or because of the raging infernos within?

“Who cares,” Tyler said before losing consciousness.

* * * *

“Wha—” Tyler whispered, unsure of where he was.

His mind had been caught in a state between reality and what happened at the compound years ago. If not for Lauren, he might have remained like that for hours. He sometimes woke up from this state after collapsing from fatigue because it hit while he had been standing, like now, or after relieving himself. Kyle had to take me to the hospital once after a particularly bad episode.

“Do you see it?” Lauren repeated.

Lauren was the shapely buxom brunette who served as their technical adviser and operated their audio-visual equipment. At twenty-eight, she was the youngest and the wisest. It took her all of five minutes to friend-zone the both of them.

“See what?” Tyler asked in a distant voice.

Tyler needed a minute to come back to his senses. He hated it when the memories of that night became his reality. At least I’m at our command centre, so I didn’t make a scene at a restaurant.

“It happened again?” Lauren asked. “Didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Tyler replied before sitting down.

As expected, his leg began to throb, as though all those months spent recovering in Germany never happened. While it was said that time heals all wounds, his mind was not following direction.

“Sorry,” Tyler said, while his voice was strained.

“Well, this will help take your mind off things.” Lauren pointed at three photographs laid out on the table they used for planning and logistics.

He found pictures of what appeared to be the remains of an enormous castle. The first was an aerial shot over the site, while the latter two were taken from the valley floor. As judged by the state of the buildings in the foreground, the latter two had been taken from within the ruins of a town.

“Ruins are always good,” Tyler replied.

He noticed there was another picture in Lauren’s hand. Experience told him she was holding the proverbial smoking gun. The shot that would distract him from that fateful mission and his phantom leg pain. Fat chance!

True to form, she dropped another picture atop the others. It appeared to be the same place, but taken in its heyday, before age and neglect took hold.

“Nice place…so what am I missing?” Tyler asked.

She sighed, annoyed that Tyler’s mental acuity was often dull after one of his episodes.

Lauren’s smile melted away before answering, “You see that building in the historical photograph? Notice how they built it right into the cliffside…”

Lauren pointed out the several floors that extended below the ridgeline.

“Yeah.” Tyler scanned the other pictures.

A place like that must have cost a fortune to design and build. They had to carve out thousands of tons of rock just to make room.

“Wait…” Tyler said.

He realised that the rock face was intact in the modern shots.

“Where’s the hole?” Tyler confirmed.

“Exactly!” Lauren said.

Lauren turned away from him for a moment, which gave Tyler a good view of her backside. It would have taken an act of god to conceal his shit-eating grin.

Sure, Tyler had no chance with her, but she was stunningly beautiful. What was the harm in getting an eyeful? I think she enjoys the attention.

Lauren noticed his grin. Her eyes narrowed, and that tense jaw and those thin lips sent a chill running down his spine. This time she had another ace up her sleeve. Lauren dropped another picture, taken from an infrared camera. In this wavelength, the structure was intact, with no wear and tear visible.

“Except for that historical shot, these were taken last week by a fan on Bealzabook,” Lauren said.

“We can’t afford to go to Europe,” Tyler said.

This could be their one-way ticket to stardom. However, the price to hop across the pond was well beyond their means. Not even with all the loose change Kyle found between his parents’ couch cushions would do.

“That’s not a problem,” Lauren said. “This place is a few hours from the city along the highway.”

“A castle?” Tyler asked. “H-h-here?”

“Actually, it’s a hotel,” Lauren replied.

“Some hotel,” Tyler said in awe.

There were several variations like that in the big cities, most of which had been built by railway companies. These once served as waystations of the rich; their way of waiting out connections in style.

“Yep. It was opened during the Roaring Twenties and went bankrupt after business dried up when the stock market crashed,” Lauren added.

Tyler smiled. “Do you think these are legit?”

“Yep,” Lauren answered. “I checked the metadata and found no artefacts in the images.”

Being faced by this once-in-lifetime opportunity left him lightheaded. They would need a couple of days to prepare, but they were up for the task.

Off the top of his mind, their gear needed to be calibrated, tested, and packaged. Since these were ruins, that meant roughing it, and with that came camping gear, a generator, fuel…

“Kyle!” Tyler yelled while facing the ceiling. “Road trip!”

A muffled cheer came from above. Knowing Kyle, they would soon celebrate the news with ice-cold beer.

* * * *

“So what are we up against?” Tyler asked while driving along the back roads leading to the foothills.

Kyle had been busy sifting through their research. The Ghoul Hunters needed him to absorb as many facts as possible on the situation. Kyle would later interject with the odd tidbit of trivia while filming to play the role of an informed host.

“To be honest, there’s not much to go on…” Kyle replied. “The town corporation dissolved about sixty years ago. All the records should have been transferred to the county.”

Kyle paused until he had a clear picture in his mind.

“Records that survived appear to have been sanitised. They create the impression that this was a mundane town dealing with an occasional bout of vandalism,” Kyle said.

He furrowed his brow until the pieces fell neatly into place.

“Odd, considering they had a courthouse and a sizable police force,” Kyle said. “Which was unheard of for such a small centre.”

“You caught that detail, eh?” Tyler interjected.

There was something peculiar about so many records being lost or destroyed. He needed to confirm if Kyle had a grasp over the key talking points before moving on. Still, Tyler kept quiet, hoping their host would come through.

“Lauren found a slew of missing person’s posters stemming from the twenties on—” Kyle said in a flash of insight.

Kyle paused as their four-by-four drove into a tunnel. This was one of his quirks; going silent whenever they drove under an overhanging structure. Loads of fun at a drive through.

“There are more missing persons’ reports here than anywhere else in the country. When you factor in the First Nations legends that the valley is cursed, it paints a grim picture,” Kyle added once clear.

“I think it’s safe to say you got most of it,” Tyler said.

The veteran returned his focus to this stretch of nondescript highway. It was still early in the morning and if everything went according to plan, they would arrive around mid-day. Despite excitement hanging in the air, they remained silent, as though expecting to wake up from a dream.

* * * *

As they entered the valley nestled in between the Rocky Mountains, Tyler noticed a woman standing on the side of the road. Since the truck was packed with equipment and tools, they could not stop for her. Besides, Tyler knew that Lauren, who was driving the rear vehicle, would lose it if they picked her up. Unless her heart were to grow three sizes.

His eyes locked onto this peculiar hitchhiker and he noted that the bronze skin and black hair marked her as being indigenous. However, her outfit was entirely unexpected. She had on a flowing white dress, impractical for travelling the back-country on foot. I’m not even sure she has a bra on…

“Odd,” Tyler whispered.

“Did you say something?” Kyle asked, busy preparing his social media responses.

He had taken his eyes off her for a second, but that was enough for her to vanish. That development was downright creepy, but Tyler dismissed it as a product of an overactive imagination.

“Oh nothing,” Tyler said in reply. “I’m just thinking out loud.”

He spent the rest of the trip in silence, enjoying the forest cover of the valley, with the mountains looming over them. It’s hard to believe there’s a major highway running parallel to us about a kilometre north.

* * * *

They arrived at the ruins of the town around mid-day. The settlement had surrendered to nature long ago. There were trees growing out through the roofs.

Some buildings had collapsed onto themselves, leaving behind mounds of rot and decay. Brick structures appeared to fare better, but a quick glance through a window revealed the floors had either collapsed onto one another or rotted away.

A good night’s sleep at this town’s hotel was unlikely, since all that remained was a rusted-out sign. Without their GPS, they might not have found this place.

“I must have driven by dozens of times and never noticed,” Lauren said while the others nodded in agreement.

Given the remote location, Kyle opted to buy additional insurance on the rentals in case something went wrong. That way they would not need to worry about scratching the skid plate or denting the fender. These rides also had the traction and horsepower needed to track up that mountain toward The Grand.

From a bridge that crossed an azure river, they had a clear view of the ridgeline. Behind the cliff, there were majestic snowcapped mountains, present even at the height of summer. Other than wind and running water, Tyler noted there was an absence of animal noises. Not even the caw of a magpie or a crow…

“Can you see anything?” Tyler asked Lauren.

“It’s uncanny,” Lauren replied.

The tech turned the camera’s viewfinder towards them so they could get a better view. Both Tyler and Kyle made out the walls, windows, and a structure. All of it untouched by time, but once she flicked the switch on the camera, the hotel returned to ruins.

“Freaky,” Kyle said.

Kyle took a shot of the ruins, after which he confirmed they had full bars, enough for media to be copied over to the Cloud in seconds.

Everyone had a similar setup in case their gear was immersed in water, stolen, or dropped into molten lava while they were escaping a murderous death cult. Lauren even established a mobile hotspot so older equipment could sync up as well.

“Here we are, standing at the edge of a ghost town. Our destination for today? The Grand,” Kyle narrated while typing out the words on his phone.

He then took a selfie with the town’s ruins in the background and pressed ‘Send.’ That teaser would be sure to pique the interest of their fans.

“Shall we head up?” Lauren asked.

The men looked up at the ruined hotel, and then at the road leading to the cell tower. After that, they suspected it would be a rough ride. It was a good thing they opted to leave their van at home.

“Sure,” they replied before getting back into their truck.

“This should be fun!” Kyle exclaimed as the engine roared to life.

“Oh yeah,” Tyler confirmed.

If that were true, why were his instincts urging him to turn back?

* * * *

The last thing they expected to find after the cell tower was a freshly paved road. It made no sense for them to maintain the road beyond The Tower. They drove on regardless, curious about what would await them around the next corner. None turned back to gaze upon the valley floor that was bathed in the light of the westward sun.

They reached an impasse before getting near the hotel. Dead ahead there was a heavily corroded wrought-iron fence. While it had seen better days, the chain and oversized padlock securing the gate gleamed in the light. Why would anyone put a fresh lock on a rusty gate?

Tyler went to the back of the truck for a zip-saw. With a saw in hand, Lauren tapped him on the shoulder. She pointed at the gate and he realised the padlock was gone.

“When did that happen?” Tyler asked.

“Dunno,” Lauren said.

To prove a hunch, Lauren pushed against the gates, and they swung open effortlessly.

“Do you think we should turn back?” Lauren asked.

The surrounding air cooled noticeably, but their instruments did not register the change. Someone is seriously fucking with us.

They drove past the gates and through an overgrown garden. The trees here were misshapen from the years of storms, while a sea of weeds moved like waves in the wind. Even after decades of neglect, the hardier flowers still bloomed.

After mentally rolling back the years of neglect, these once-manicured lands would have been a sight to behold. Since Lauren was following them, they could not tell if this was all an illusion. A shame that we can’t see the world through Lauren’s viewfinder.

Upon reaching the halfway point, they came across a massive tree trunk lying on the road. Tyler hesitated for a moment and smiled.

“You got the insurance on these trucks?” Tyler asked. “Right?”

“Yeah… Why?” Kyle asked, confused.

“No reason,” Tyler said before burying the accelerator.

In response to an imminent crash, Kyle grabbed onto the oh-shit handle. However, it was all for naught. They drove straight through the felled tree and appeared on the other side intact.

“Whoa!” Kyle asked, “What was that?”

“Another illusion,” Tyler said with a wide grin on his face.

“Like that lock?” Kyle asked, still wide eyed from the event. “How did you know?”

“Well, there was no stump on either side,” Tyler said.

It was a good thing they opted to have dash-mounted cameras in these trucks. It would be a challenge for the viewers to disprove how they passed through a solid object.

“So, you figured that the best way to prove your hunch was to take a run at it?” Kyle asked. “What if it turned out to be real?”

“Then the airbags would have deployed and Lauren would browbeat our corpses,” Tyler said.

The pause that followed hinted that those words must have formed a vivid picture in Kyle’s mind. The ensuing shiver only confirmed Tyler’s hunch.

They arrived at the foot of a stagnant pond contained by a stone embankment. The remnants of a statue in the middle confirmed this had once been an imposing fountain. However, water no longer poured from the rust-stained spouts, and a thick layer of algae covered its surface.

The sight of all that stagnant water took him back to his early army training, specifically all that time spent ploughing through swamps. The smell and sound of buzzing mosquitoes awakened memories that he thought suppressed long ago. Those bloodsuckers were relentless.

Beyond the fountain, lay the remnants of the hotel. The walls had collapsed, and the roof was gone. Little of it remained, which was odd considering the scale of the hotel.

Lauren pulled out her gear from the truck and began filming the area in the visible light spectrum. Tyler and Kyle crowded behind her while she switched through various modes until the hotel appeared to be intact.

“Can you hear that?” Lauren asked.

On instinct, Tyler closed his eyes and let his jaw hang loose. There was nothing out of the ordinary. The wind was blowing, and water trickled playfully into the pool.

“Nothing…wait…running water?” Tyler said.

“Correct,” Lauren replied before turning to face the fountain.

In infrared light, the fountain and the water pouring through the spurts were clear as day. That’s one hell of a trick! Was this some sort of illusion? Or were they peering through a window to the past?

Kyle took a video which had both the viewfinder and the fountain in the frame. He then turned the camera on himself before adopting his well-practised host pose.

“How spooky is that!” Kyle exclaimed. “Here we are in the ruins of an old railway hotel from the Roaring Twenties. From the naked eye, it appears to be nothing more than an old fountain. A home for skeeters and frogs.”

He paused before adopting the used-car-salesman smile, then panned the camera. That way he could show to their audience that there was no obvious source of running water.

“Riddle me this,” Kyle said. “Where’s that trickling sound coming from?”

Once done, Kyle typed out something on his phone before posting the video on Bealzabook and Twitcher. With that kind of footage, fans would get excited.

“Ever the eye for theatrics,” Tyler said.

Kyle bowed in a melodramatic fashion, and Lauren chuckled. The host walked up the steps and bolted toward the space between the walls, where the doors once stood.

Before anyone could object, Kyle slammed face-first into an invisible wall. The impact caused him to bounce off and land straight on his ass. I wonder how much money we’d make in blackmail by withholding that video?

Both Lauren and Tyler covered up a smirk prior to converging on Kyle. The host held his nose as blood poured out from between his fingers. While Tyler thought it was funny, he hoped it was not broken, because that meant going back to the city. Tyler was sure another crew would swoop in to claim all the glory if that were to happen…

Kyle looked up to the both of them and said, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Lauren said with a smirk.

Lauren froze in place, her eyes fixated on blood splatter suspended in mid-air. Tyler took several pictures with his camera phone and confirmed that the GPS coordinates were embedded. From where they stood, the blood drops projected a shadow over the ruined floor.

As though channelling his inner-mime, Tyler pressed up against the invisible surface. The onlookers went wide eyed and slack jawed. This discovery shot down the theory of this being a window in time.

“Wait here,” Tyler said.

In response, Lauren kept the camera trained on him. Meanwhile, Tyler ran his hands over the invisible wall until he felt the wooden grain of the doors. He found the gap, leaving Tyler a reference point. He then located a handle and pulled. Just like that, Tyler vanished, leaving the others with more questions than answers.

A minute later, Lauren and Kyle jumped after hearing a knock. Tyler then reappeared wearing a shit-eating grin.

“I could see you through the walls,” Tyler said.

“That was you?” Lauren asked. “You fuck!”

“If the esteemed star of Ghoul Hunters is done bleeding, he can check this out for himself,” Tyler said.

Kyle smirked before giving him the finger. This time it was Tyler’s turn to bow.

* * * *

It took about an hour to get Kyle cleaned up from the back of the lead truck. He would end up with some bruising, but makeup and a clean shirt sufficed for now.

Since his antics were caught on video, Lauren hijacked his social media accounts and posted this latest blunder. There was sure to be some resentment once he found out, but she knew all would be forgiven once the hits rolled in.

When ready, they assembled a couple of paces away from the invisible doorway. Kyle may have been the star, but it was Tyler who took the lead in dangerous situations.

Since there were no blueprints on record, they knew little of the hotel’s layout, or what to expect once inside. Their hearts raced in anticipation and adrenaline heightened their senses. Was this their ticket to stardom? Proof of the paranormal? Certainly, this would show everyone there were still mysteries left in this world. I wonder if—

One of the main doors opened, seemingly by itself, the sound echoing throughout the courtyard. Unlike Tyler’s foray into the hotel, this time they had a clear view of the interior. Inside, there were two rounded staircases beside an expansive hall. The gold trim, intricate carvings, and purity of the marble were a testament to the wealth needed to make this place a reality. What the actual fuck?

“Why are we seeing this now?” Lauren asked.

Her brows furrowed to the point where her eyes were nearly closed.

Tyler peeked over his shoulder to find a dull grey world. Despite it being a little after four in the afternoon, the shadows from the mountains were stretched out over the property. Fuck me…

“This way, if you please,” an unfamiliar voice said with a foreign accent.

While the accent was not Transylvanian in nature, the effect was the same. Their heads turned toward the speaker, as though in slow motion. There they were, just off to the side. Three men dressed in tailored black-and-white uniforms.

There were two immediately by the doors, whereas a third stood apart. That one had a similar uniform but was notable for his olive skin, dark hair, black eyes, and the name ‘Max’ engraved on a gold nametag. What this one lacked in height, he made up for with attitude. He’s clearly the one in charge…

* * * *

“Contact! Bravo—” the LT yelled before being eviscerated by an assailant.

“LT!” one of the senior sergeants said before being silenced by another attacker.

Tyler was back there, he could taste the sand in the air and smell the fresh blood. His eyes were wide and wild, unable to focus on a target. There were so many, and they moved so fast he could not follow them.

“I need—” Tyler said. Not now!

* * * *

“We don’t have a reservation,” Lauren quipped, though only someone who knew her would pick up the additional trembling in her voice.

Tyler tasted blood in his mouth and his cheek stung like a son-of-a-bitch. The shock from his self-inflicted wound and Lauren’s voice were enough to wrestle him away from entering that mind trap.

He considered spitting out the blood, but figured these three would get off on that. Instead, he closed his eyes and swallowed it. The sound echoed throughout the entryway, and for a moment he thought he might have to puke it up, but he pushed through. They won’t make me the main course.

God, she’s awesome. He was floored that Lauren had been the first one to recover from their collective stupor and drop a witty one-liner to boot!

Tyler peeked through the viewfinder. In all modes, the interior remained visible. However, the infrared view showed there was no difference between the ambient temperature inside the hotel and the body temperature of those men before them.

“You are in luck, madam, there are vacancies for tonight,” Max said in a painfully formal tone.

“We don’t have any cash…” Kyle tried to say with confidence, but his voice trailed off to a whisper.

For being such a smooth operator with the ladies, Kyle certainly did not deal well with being faced by the indisputable truth that science and religion needed a rethink.

Max disappeared and reappeared behind Kyle. The shock of someone disappearing and reappearing within the blink of an eye caused Lauren to drop her camera. The viewfinder revealed nothing initially, although the sound of blood dripping was followed by a deluge of viscera spreading out ahead of the camera. Seconds later, Kyle fell forward onto his knees before face-planting into his own mess.

Tyler knew what they were and realised that the shadow of those mountains effectively cut off any chance of escape. A shame that he had been too focused on exposing them to heed their warnings. There’s no way we’re getting out of this alive.

“Now, if you two will follow me,” Max said, no longer concealing the underlying threat.

Lauren’s eyes were glassy, and her breathing was shallow. Tyler pulled Lauren in the right direction, and her legs moved mechanically. The camera continued recording as their steps grew faint. Later, the doors were shut, and Kyle was dragged away by an unseen force.

Tyler had no wish to antagonise his host just yet, so he played the part of a man broken by the trauma. That left him to focus on where to make his last stand. They were led up the left staircase, like lambs to the slaughter, past the cheerful cherub-filled fountain and up to the front counter.

The man removed his soiled gloves and disposed of them in the wastebasket. From the drawer he produced a fresh pair. In the interim, Tyler noticed those hands were mutilated. It was as though the skin had been removed to expose the muscle, sinew, and bone. Was this the result of an accident? Or done as a punitive measure?

Whereas Lauren stared out into the distance unaware of what was going on, Tyler was distracted by a couple dressed in formal evening attire passing by. The man and woman would look right at home in an old movie. They appeared to be oblivious to what was going on, but the two must have assumed Tyler and Lauren were not important enough to acknowledge. This place has been shuttered since the Great Depression? Right…

Max picked up the phone and selected one of the presets. The black wireless headset fitted to his ear freed him from the desk while the connection was made.

When the other side picked up, he said, “Cecil. I need a clean-up at the entrance.”

The concierge then focused on his remaining guests.

“How the fuck did you end up here?” Max asked.

The man had dropped any pretence of civility. Given his overt show of power from earlier, Tyler knew this would escalate fast, if answers were not forthcoming.

“We drove here. You invited us in,” Tyler said before a smile crept across his neutral features. Here’s as good of a place as any…

Prior to deployment, Tyler had been taught how to handle himself in cases of capture. He had spent the better part of a week naked, with little sleep or food. They questioned him constantly and even had him water-boarded, but Tyler never broke. However, he was certain Max and his cronies had creative ways of getting people to talk. He won’t get that chance…

Lauren began to shake. Tyler stepped closer to her and put his arm around her waist, fearing that she would faint. He needed her to stay mobile, so he could keep her alive for as long as possible.

Tyler kept his mind focused on the situation at hand. This was not a time to think about what happened to Kyle and he needed to keep his wits about him. He was certain they would not go down quietly.

“Wrong answer,” Max said.

The concierge paused, and a sickly smile fell upon his lips. Tyler knew this man would enjoy putting in the work needed to get his answers.

“Care to try again?” Max asked.

“Just a minute,” Tyler replied. He hugged Lauren before adding, “Can’t you see that you’re upsetting the lady?”

He leaned in close, which roused her from the depths of despair. Before she screamed, he whispered something into her ear. At first, she appeared to be confused, but eventually she returned his hug. Once he felt a tug, all the pieces were in place.

“Get away from her,” Max ordered.

“Fuck off,” Tyler replied.

Tyler needed more time, but that was complicated when faced by an opponent that could tear him apart with his bare hands. He hoped his outburst would appear non-threatening and he could eke out a few meagre seconds before showing his hand.

“Last chance,” Max said.

The concierge’s body went taut like a viper. This man was poised for an attack and there was nothing Tyler could do to prevent it.

“I said fuck off,” Tyler replied while tightening his grip over Lauren.

Lauren stiffened considerably, and for a few heartbeats they appeared to be inseparable. Then in the blink of an eye, they were three feet apart, torn away from each other by the concierge’s brute strength. At that moment, the spoon sprang free from the grenade that was crammed into Tyler’s backpack.

One…

Tyler watched as Lauren recovered and made a mad dash toward him.

Two…

He glanced at his phone, which showed the progress of multiple file uploads. So far, thirty pictures and two videos had been uploaded with another just about complete.

Three…

Tyler glanced at Max, whose eyes were tracking the spoon’s arc through the air.

Clearly, the concierge was not familiar with the tools of a modern war. A grenade going off was sure to be a novel experience for their host.

Four…

Tyler broke a smile. Meanwhile, Lauren collided with enough force that she toppled him over.

“Fuck you!” Tyler swore.

Tyler expected to feel something when he finally came face to face with death. Part of him hoped for a blinding white light to welcome him to the afterlife. Barring that, witnessing the entirety of his life passing before his eyes would have sufficed. Disappointingly, there was nothing at all.

The concierge was pushed back by the force of the explosion. He received a face full of shrapnel, including bone matter from the initial victims.

Max was going to have a hell of a time explaining this to the Boss.

* * * *

GHOUL HUNTERS VIDEOS DECLARED A HOAX

By Victoria Frost of Consolidated Press

Videos purportedly filmed during the last investigation of the Ghoul Hunters, a lesser-known group of paranormal investigators, were deemed to be an elaborate hoax.

For the past several months, videos containing the graphic footage of their rumoured demise have circulated the internet. While these videos were pulled from mainstream sites because of their graphic content, hacker sites were getting millions of unique hits daily.

While the footage was thoroughly discredited by renowned experts in the field, the whereabouts of the group remains a mystery. Local police have stated the investigation is ongoing, and they are aggressively pursuing leads.

Certain fringe groups claim the footage is undeniable proof of the paranormal. Concurrently, conspiracy theorists insist the Ghoul Hunters’ footage proves the government is involved in an elaborate cover-up, claims which have been repeatedly denied by senior government officials.

In response to these naysayers, one expert had this to say, —You’d be surprised what you can do with a crabApple these days.—

CHAPTER 1

WALK OVER A GRAVE

Clara was covered in blood, sweat, and caked-on dirt after a night of fighting werewolves. She stumbled into her apartment and, though weary, went straight for the bathroom. She stopped mid-stride, upon seeing the bare curves of the mixed-race woman standing at the threshold of the door.

“You took your sweet time…” Elizabeth said.

“Well, werewolves take a bit more effort to house train than pugs,” Clara answered. “I didn’t want them pawing at the door to be let out…”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Elizabeth said in a husky voice. “Would we?”

Clara picked up that Elizabeth’s heart increased in unison with her own. She smirked, but werewolf blood was decidedly not an aphrodisiac. To mar Elizabeth’s smooth skin with all that gore and grime made her skin crawl.

“I really should shower,” Clara said. “You want to help me get at those hard to reach—”

* * * *

Something vibrated from the depths of her pocket and roused Clara from her slumber. While the dream had been pleasant, it had been nothing more than a work of fiction. In fact, it was little more than a tease, which soured her mood. In truth, she had betrayed Elizabeth and not set eyes upon her for several months.

After letting out a long sigh, she slumped into her seat. Clara opened her eyes and rubbed the sleep from them before taking out her phone. With a double-tap, the screen came to life and brought up the notification.

She did an all-around scan of the bus, to confirm no one was watching. Her eyes then focused on a passing road sign. After doing the maths, she concluded they were nearing their destination. Her heart transitioned to a gallop while pressure built up along her forehead. Clara closed her eyes and fought back the wave of anxiety. Not today, bitches.

Bitches was a reference to the goddess Hecate and her three distinct personas. Clara saw them more as bickering sisters who never saw eye to eye on anything. Unfortunately, those three had taken up permanent residence within her mind, a side-effect of killing the goddess in self-defence.

Clara nicknamed the most annoying of Hecate’s personas Ethereal, on account of her translucent appearance, dead eyes, and disembodied voice. This one was both pessimistic and paranoid, which was as bad as it sounded. This was the one who constantly nagged the others to take action based on her delusions. As a result, the other sisters seldom listened to her, even when Ethereal was right… The eternal killjoy.

Sparky was so named because of those glowing blue eyes and the ability to focus her rage into a bolt of coherent energy. She was the polar opposite of Ethereal. Sparky was quick to anger, and she was known to act first while forgetting about asking questions.

Silver was the unofficial leader of the group, so named for the silvery glow emanating from her skin and hair. To this day Clara could only guess the powers she inherited from this persona. However, Silver was the rational one who reined in her sisters after significant coaxing. I’ve seen them trying to break free from Silver on numerous occasions…

It was a miracle they managed to co-exist as the entity called Hecate. While they could exist as separate entities, this was the exception rather than the rule. That’s why I call them the sisters…

Genuine panic had been a rare occurrence in life, doubly so after ascending to Heaven. Clara figured she was wired differently from the norm, which enabled her to keep her emotions at bay. Such a talent was ideal for hunting things that went bump in the night. Who knew that someone needed a clear head when fighting for survival?

Ever since learning how to channel Hecate’s powers, such challenges had become the norm. This curse came with perks, and Clara loved channelling her anger into a coherent burst of energy. Who doesn’t want to embrace their inner wrathful goddess?

Clara spotted a clean-shaven man with a thin moustache walking down the aisle. Those dark-brown eyes, sharp features, and short hair were a refreshing change from the current trends. He reminded her of a wounded artillery officer she met during the Great War. While their brief interaction had been hurried and hushed, Clara got her first taste of sexual intimacy that night.

The memories of barneymugging that thin-moustached officer did not help her state of arousal. Clara flashed the man a smile, but he did not appear to notice her at all. Who the hell does he think he is?

Her eyes glowed blue for a fraction of a second. Cool your heels! She closed her eyes and forced herself to keep her anger in check. It’s not his fault that he can’t see past the illusion.

The man had not noticed her on account of her hiding as her plain Jane self. This was a relatively recent addition to her arsenal. A power that muted Clara’s beauty and distinctive physical attributes. While invaluable for traversing crowds unnoticed, it also meant being invisible, even when she wanted to get noticed. I’m sure my light jacket, flannel shirt, and jeans aren’t helping matters…

Still, being so casually dismissed had torn a strip right off her ego. His heart rate never even changed…

As a human, Clara had been a bit of a billboard. With those steel-grey eyes, elfin features, and straight brown hair, people took notice of her. God had been generous, she had the body of a dancer, but featured a larger bust. I had the dexterity of a dancer, but my girls could bring about severe neck strain.

During the Roaring Twenties, men were drawn to her, and she loved how they viewed courtship as they would battle. In the end, Clara always won out. Sometimes the encounter would leave them scarred, but all that mattered to her was the thrill of victory. A shame they come broken out of the box these days…

After he passed by, she double-tapped on the screen to return to the notification, but stopped. Clara’s instincts were telling her someone was watching her.

From out of the corner of her eye, she caught a pair of bright-blue eyes staring back at her. Clara smiled warmly at a toddler with curly blond hair seated next to his mother. The boy giggled with glee at getting Clara’s attention, which caused his mother to stir from a deep sleep. Clara pressed her forefinger against her narrow lips and shushed him.

There was disappointment in those eyes, but it was fleeting. The child looked between his legs to find a tablet and was quickly distracted by a colourful cartoon. Kids appeared to be easily taken in by shiny baubles and simplistic tunes… Speaking of which…

Clara sank back in her seat, unlocked her phone, and tapped on the only notification. Since the phone number was new, the list of potential senders was sparse. Nice and simple.

Vivian: Subject has been released.

That statement said little without context, and that was by design. This was an acquaintance who ended up getting wounded after a nasty skirmish with a pack of werewolves. Alas, they arrested the young vixen for being an accomplice to Clara’s crimes. It had taken the law firm months to secure her release, but in the end their hard work paid off. It’s a full moon tonight…

Clara: Package delivered?

Vivian: As per instructions.

Clara grinned upon hearing that her gift had been delivered. She hoped the backpack and its contents would give Julia everything she required to branch out on her own. Clara expected the werewolf would surrender to the moon’s power tonight but would hopefully reach back when she was ready. You never know, Julia might prove to be a valuable ally.

She clenched her jaw in annoyance. Hecate would not be silenced, forcing Clara to hear the various personas whispering from the depths of her mind. To further fuck with the angel, Ethereal interjected.

“In my day, werewolves were considered a disease,” Ethereal said in that distinctive voice that sucked all the joy from a room. “Remind you of anyone else we know?”

Julia had been shunned by her pack. As an orphan, Clara understood what it meant to lose her anchor. She was also the catalyst for Julia being shunned and saw it as her duty to look after her.

Sources confirmed that Julia never uttered a word about what happened that night. In return for her silence, the authorities focused their collective fury on the hapless Julia. Clara could do little more than watch as justice was administered, but she was not shocked by the public’s need for blood. At least she’s free to do as she wishes tonight.

The situation differed for Clara, given how little sea room there was. She wondered how easily she could run aground before finding the answers she sought.

Comforted that Julia was free, Clara closed her eyes and let her mind wander.

“Retrace the steps you took in life,” Eleanor told her a few months back. “You may find what you are looking for.”

That advice had been passed on by an angel of death who went by the name Eleanor. The one who left that pearl of wisdom behind after being urged to ‘confess her sins.’ Like most life-altering riddles, they yielded more questions than they answered.

Clara had been to six out of the seven continents on this big blue marble hurtling through space. That did not include the time she spent in the Kingdom of Heaven, or within that pocket of reality that contained The Tower.

However, the latter two were, for the moment, closed off to her. Clara needed to find her way back to The Tower, which was the unofficial name for an order of hunters. Clara had been a hunter in life, sworn to rid the world of the creatures of myth and legend who preyed on humanity. I wonder if they’d consider me, a fallen angel, to be a threat?

There it was, yet another question to add to the queue. Truth be told, Clara had lost her faith since falling to Earth. Heaven had not been as advertised. There was something dark behind that veneer of utopian perfection that she could not put a finger on. She also suspected that God, if such an entity existed, treated scripture like a salesman’s pitch.

If The Tower was still standing, they might well see her as a heretic. She had fallen in with vampires and werewolves. The former of which being a key ally, so long as their goals aligned. In either case, these tenuous alliances had the potential to change the very nature of hunting.

Those from The Tower never questioned their edicts. They had orders to kill anything that was not human or natural to this world. However, this strict interpretation of their laws did not reflect reality. There were plenty of humans who were more of a threat than a pack of werewolves frolicking through a remote forest on a full moon.

A question lingered. Should Eleanor’s advice be taken literally? Alas, she did not know. For now, she was set on beginning her journey nearer to her genesis and would find her way back to where she died. That was quite an undertaking, digging through over a century of history for a slim chance at rejoining her order. I can’t do this alone…

It did not matter how far she diverged from what they taught her at The Tower. Clara needed to find out what happened after she was closed off from the Terminus. Their name for the network of gates used to connect The Tower to major destinations around the world. It’s about time that I got some answers.

What would she find? Would there be an army of hunters ready to return peace and order to this world? Or would she find a crypt, filled with mummified corpses? One way or the other, I need answers… If I ever find the place.

Even if she was right about interpreting the advice literally, there were events that complicated matters. The Hiccup was a phenomenon that brought about the merger of several alternate timelines into their own. The effect had been horrific, all that chaos brought on by an enigmatic group known only as the Georgians. They were technomages who sold their tech to both sides of the conflict. The same group that attempted to manipulate probability to steer events toward a desired outcome.

When considering how many decisions an individual made during a day, compounded by the effects they had on others, the true impact of their deed had been astronomical. In the last five minutes the bus driver must have made several decisions that might have led to an accident.

That was why there were Victorian-era homes fused in with modern condominium developments. That explained how individuals, executed for their crimes, showed up at their former homes only to discover someone else had been living there for years. The possibilities were endless, as were the nuances. And I’m expected to find a doorway back to The Tower?

Added to her woes was that life had gone on after she died. The global population increased sharply since the Roaring Twenties, which meant massive developments worldwide to support the new residents. Entire cities had been destroyed by wars or natural disasters, burying potential clues beneath ash, mud, concrete, and asphalt. It’s like finding a needle in a pile of needles…

“Where’s the fun in getting a straight answer?” Clara muttered.

The bus passed a decorative sign on her left. By the looks of it, they had arrived. Her hunch was confirmed when the tour guide rose from his seat and turned to face the passengers. This should get people stirring.

* * * *

The bus passed through a wrought-iron gate supported by a stone-and-mortar wall. A shiver ran down her spine as the memory of her doing the same as a child resurfaced. Even a tour bus, loaded with weary passengers looking to whet their palates, was luxurious compared to a horse and cart the farmer used to shuttle supplies back and forth to the school.

Welcome to our first stop on our wine-tasting tour…

Clara looked out of her window as the bus drove onto the paved courtyard. Other than her school being converted into a vineyard, this was her first clue that a lot had changed since she last haunted these halls.

Established in 1836 as a school for orphaned girls. To our left…

As the bus manoeuvred into its parking spot, she focused on the three-storey brick structure and smiled. The windows were evenly spaced throughout, and above there was an ornate silver roof complete with gables. Clara had spent a significant portion of her time there, since it housed both the classrooms and accommodations for the students.

This building now serves as the headquarters for the vineyard. Straight ahead, you’ll find…

This building was a combination of wood and stone. The sight of it evoked memories of nuns going about their daily routines within those walls. This served as their quarters for an order of nuns that worked these lands and educated the girls under their tutelage. Clara smiled at the sight of a particular window. While no more distinctive than the others, that was where she and some accomplices nailed Sister Maria’s furniture to the ceiling. I wonder if the holes are still there?

Girls sent here received an academic and religious education…

“They forgot to mention that the school was cloistered,” Clara whispered. “The only men permitted onto the property were the farmer who delivered supplies and Father…”

Her eyes widened when that name failed to roll off her tongue. This was the man who arranged for her to be educated here and opened the door to The Tower. This was the hunter who was murdered by a powerful vampire right before her eyes. That was the night that inadvertently set her on a path filled with deception, betrayal, and death… I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The school was shuttered in 1910 after the gruesome murders of their priest and Mother Superior…

“Wait,” Clara whispered. “That never happened…”

Only one person had died that night and it was the father. She was the sole witness to this vile deed. Clara remembered how helpless he was to stop the very threat he sought to save the world from. The same vampire that took Clara twenty years to track and put down. We both paid the ultimate price that night.

The property was purchased by a local farmer and later converted into a vineyard…

While that happened eventually, to her knowledge the school operated well into the thirties. This discrepancy confirmed that the effects of the Hiccup were more extensive than feared. Try finding a needle in a mountain of needles without getting a tetanus shot…

“You never know. You might get lucky like you did with us,” Silver taunted.

Clara had learned it was best to avoid interacting with the sisters. They often behaved like bullies, and any indication that their vitriol worked would encourage them further. The sisters sure as fuck try my patience.

There came a loud release of air as the bus came to a complete stop. The main tour would soon begin, and passengers were lined up in the aisle to leave. Clara remained seated, pretending to be engrossed by whatever was posted on her Twitcher timeline.

We have arrived. Bathrooms are available in the main building…

The doors swung open, and the passengers poured out through the doors. Once the last passenger stepped out of the bus, she got on her feet and grabbed her backpack. The straps went taut from the weight but would have little effect on her.

She shouldered the bag and walked off. There were a few stragglers in the courtyard indulging in a cigarette along with witty banter about some show that played on television last night. As expected, Clara walked by them without notice.

That earlier encounter with the moustached man had been a lesson. It surprised her how much she missed turning heads as she walked by. They weaponised my sexuality for the good of the order. Now I need to get over myself and embrace obscurity.

That much was necessary after videos of her street brawl with a werewolf went viral. While she did not know how widely the videos had been distributed, it earned her a nickname, ‘the Valkyrie.’ That was also the reason the constabulary were on the lookout for her. Wasn’t there some mention of me being on the most wanted list…

She made her way through the gift shop, past the bathrooms, and straight out the back. In her day, the back door opened up on the orchards and gardens they used to feed staff and students. To her left, she remembered there being a partially buried wooden structure with a grassy roof that served as a root cellar.

The kitchen would have been to her right. It had been a stone structure with several chimneys protruding from the roof. In the winter, they would get nose bleeds from the hot dry air. In the summer, students collapsed while attending to their duties.

Only the kitchen remained, but the wall facing her had been torn down. These days it served as a garage for tractors and various odds and ends.

The root cellar had been reduced to a grassy knoll with a large maple tree growing out from the centre. As for their gardens, all of it had been uprooted and replaced with row upon row of grapevines. These stretched on to the back wall and Clara suspected there was more of the same on the other side.

“The more things change…” Clara whispered to steel her resolve. “Right.”

She sashayed up to a row. Now that she was behind cover, Clara was not concerned about security. She suspected that this part of the winery was all for show since the wall prevented guests from wandering out too far.

This worked in Clara’s favour. If the wall was intact, that meant other parts of the facility might still be standing. Clara was curious about one place in particular, especially after hearing that the school had been closed on account of several deaths…

“What was his name?” Clara asked while tapping her forehead several times. How could such an influential person fade from memory?

His death fuelled her passion for life. Until she died, Clara always carried his rosary, the one with a small blade concealed within the crucifix. She found that having it with her was a of comfort, especially when her faith was challenged.

“Gather around, everyone,” the tour guide said.

Clara had reached the wall by that point, and the guide’s words were like whispers carried by the wind. She followed the stone barrier until she came across an ivy-covered door. Unlike the gate that led in and out of the convent, this one was no taller than she was. She remembered it had been fashioned from thick oak planks and reinforced with iron rivets.

She nearly missed the door entirely; her memories were tainted by her childhood self’s diminutive size. What once took her one-hundred paces to reach, now required forty. Ivy had grown over this part of the wall, which worked well for keeping its secrets hidden.

Clara reached through the ivy and snapped off an old sign. While badly corroded, the sign read: Condemned. No trespassing.

A smile crept over those soft lips. She confirmed there was no one nearby and reached through the ivy once more. This time Clara grabbed an iron handle and pulled. The hinges were seized from years of corrosion. However, with some persuasion, the handle tore off entirely and left a void in its place.

“Well, that’s progress,” Clara grumbled.

She slipped her hands through the space and gripped the door’s edges. With more effort, she tore a strip from the door, large enough for her to squeeze through. Clara was fortunate the wood was rotten, because it cut down on the noise she made. That took a bit more effort than I wanted, but no one’s headed my way…

“No red carpet for this gal,” Clara said. “To be fair, that never stopped me from crashing a party.”

The overpowering scent of decay overwhelmed her senses. Clara took a few steps back until she regained control. Her training regime had been on the back burner ever since going into hiding, and these lapses in decorum were concerning. I’m going to need to address those soon.

Physical reactions to stimuli were very much like pain, the mind could be trained to block them out entirely. However, this gave her an idea on what to expect when she ventured inside. Here I thought the chemical toilet on the bus was bad…

The outline of stone steps were visible, along with a shiny film of mildew, and the stalactites above her head. While less than pleasant, she knew there was nothing down there that could kill her. However, that did not mean she had to rely on ambient light to get a view of her surroundings. Clara channelled her pent-up irritation through Sparky, the goddess of magic, which made her eyes glow blue.

“What a pitiful use of my talents,” Sparky said, the sister who sounded like an over-caffeinated squirrel.

That was the thing about anger, it was pervasive. Rage easily charged her batteries, enabling her to unleash deadly bolts of energy on an unwitting foe. However, daily annoyances such as being cut off in traffic or falling for clickbait on the internet trickle charged the system. Modern life was filled with a plethora of irritations that poisoned the soul. For the moment, that bruised ego from earlier was more than enough to power this handy-dandy flashlight.

She walked down the filthy staircase and reached the floor below. As expected, the odour increased as she neared the source. From here there was a long and narrow corridor that would lead to what had been the rectory. Clara closed her eyes, augmenting senses by using her memories.

It was cool, more than an air-conditioned space. The low temperature intermixed with high humidity made the walls and ceiling cry. That certainly explains the stalactites…and the mould.

Moisture clung to her skin, and she was sure she would end up desperate for a long shower. It’s going to be hard to get back to that bus if I look like a puddle of sweat while carrying the pungent odour of swamp.

She moved onward. The bare portions of the wall glistened in blue light, whereas the rest was absorbed by tufts of furry black mould. The place was literally teeming with life, just not the kind she wanted to spend quality time with.

“Are those cousins of yours?” Ethereal mocked. “My mistake. Those are far ahead of you on the evolutionary ladder.”

Something scurried off in the distance, and Clara was not surprised the place was crawling with insects and rodents. Still, this would not dissuade her advance. This was nothing compared to what she witnessed in the Great War. Dead men and horses sinking into the blood-soaked mud…

As Clara progressed, she realised there was a slope, and that the water levels rose with every step. By the time the tunnel branched off in two directions the water was knee deep. Her plans of returning unnoticed were shot. After a long sigh, Clara took a right.

The other direction used to lead back to the main building and the nuns’ quarters. Whereas this tunnel took her under the wall, toward the chapel. Their house of worship had been isolated from the rest of the facility, to further segregate the clergy from interacting with the cloistered nuns outside of mass.

She remembered crossing those gates daily to attend mass. In the winter, the cold would seep in from the floor into her knees while she kneeled for prayers. She often wondered how the nuns managed well into their sixties.

Fortunately, the vaulted tunnel was intact, and the water levels remained steady. After a couple of minutes of trudging through the murky waters, she reached a rotten door.

“That’s where the Father died,” Clara said before realising she had been holding her breath.

A light push popped the door from out of its frame and sent it sinking into the silt. The space on the other side was expansive, enough that the glow from her eyes was absorbed by the inky darkness within. Clara paused, as the hairs on the back of her neck struck straight out. I’m not alone.

“Hello?” Clara called out.

A response came from the depths of this chamber. It sounded like waves washing up on the beach. Confined by the walls, the water pushed through the doorway and pinned her against the wall.

Clara was immediately submerged, and the weight of the backpack complicated matters. She released the quick snaps on her shoulders and left it behind. As she was about to push herself off the floor, a pair of spectral hands reached from beyond the surface to hold her down. Whoever this was, they are seriously pissed off!

The Tower taught acolytes that spirits, spectres, and ghosts did not exist, but Clara learned first hand that was a lie. These were souls that clung to the mortal world instead of following an angel of death to their final destination. They could channel immeasurable power, especially when all that remained of their being was rage. That formed the premise for malevolent spirits like poltergeists.

The water temperature plummeted, and water crystallised over the surface. Clara had the distinct impression that this spirit sought to entomb her in ice. Instead of a focused bolt of energy, Clara tapped into her darkest thoughts, the ones that most kept buried deep within their subconscious.

She loathed channelling such emotions through Ethereal. The act of doing so made her feel as though a part of her had died, or that someone had walked across her grave. When her eyes opened again, she was faced by the spectral view of this vengeful spirit. A nun, with empty sockets where her eyes should have been and blueish flesh stretched taut over the skull and bone.

Clara sensed the shock as the tables were turned. She exploited that lapse in concentration, using her legs to launch the nun through the wall. I bet she wasn’t expecting me to fight back.

Intent on holding her ground, Clara regained her footing and ran into the centre of the rectory. That gave her room to manoeuvre in case there was some fight left in her opponent, which turned out to be prophetic.

The enraged spirit launched herself from out of the wall and flew right at Clara. In corporeal form, her only recourse would have been to evade the dead until they ran out of steam.

By channelling Ethereal, the goddess of spirits and ghosts, she was on an equal footing. She evaded the attack with ease, and her elbow connected with the nun’s forehead. The apparition tumbled into the water before disappearing beneath the stone floor.

“Time to change the beat,” Clara said.

She removed her light jacket and flannel shirt, leaving behind a sports bra and jeans. Two buds appeared on her back, stretching the skin until they burst out as a congealed mass of flesh and bone. Once they reached their full size, black feathers sprouted from the surface until her wings were fully formed.

Other transformations were more subtle but impressive. Her eyes turned to a piercing steel grey, whereas the features on her face and body became sharper and distinctive. That effect extended to her musculature and even the sheen in her hair. That sheikh wouldn’t walk by me looking like this. The smell though…

The apparition reappeared, from the outer edge of the room and charged. Clara changed tactics. The glow from her eyes became powerful enough to illuminate every nook and cranny of this space. Fully charged, she sent everything she had through her fingertip.

It was nothing more than a hunch, but she had nothing to lose. When the blue bolt came into contact with the green spectre, the room lit up in a shower of sparks. It may not have been a fatal shot, but the nun was left humbled.

“Traitor!” the nun hissed.

The spectre’s eyes darted from point to point as though searching for something to leverage to her advantage. She won’t play nice.

“ENOUGH!” Clara boomed out, making the walls shake. Well, that’s new…

The dry skin cracked and widened around those eye sockets. While inhuman, it strangely conferred a sense of awe.

“Trait—” the nun hissed.

The glow from Clara’s eyes was nearly white, serving as a threat. Meanwhile, she used this lull to fold in her wings.

“Who exactly did I betray?” Clara asked calmly.

The nun’s head snapped back, and based on the cracking sound Clara wondered how the spine did not snap in half. The reasons for this reaction remained unclear. Was it because of her wings? The question she asked? Or was it the calm and measured speech that denoted a lack of fear? The pause in reply was telling, implying that she was leery of angering Clara.

“You killed Father Michael,” the nun said. Wait? That was his name!

Clara quirked a brow, which was the most emotion she planned to show during their exchange. With no way of discounting the effect of the Hiccup, Clara had to keep this one talking.

“A powerful vampire took his life, one who could trespass over consecrated ground,” Clara said.

“Lies,” the nun hissed. “She was here, but it was you who stabbed him repeatedly before draining him of his blood.”

“I was a child when it happened,” Clara replied. “At least a head shorter than you are now. How could I best a trained hunter like Father Michael?”

“How dare you say his name!” the spectre hissed.

The discombobulated voice was a challenge to place, but there was something familiar about it. It evoked memories of getting lectured prior to the administering of a punishment. That sliver of a memory was enough to send a chill down her spine.

“Wait. You’re Sister Maria?” Clara asked.

“How would you know my name?” Sister Maria replied.

“You brought me here after my mother died and later escorted me to The Tower. You laughed when I confessed I was the one who rearranged the furniture in your room,” Clara answered in return.

“Lies! I can smell the killer’s blood coursing through your veins,” Sister Maria said. “You have the same eyes.”

“You said it was one of them who killed Father Michael?” Clara confirmed, using the term hunters routinely employed when referring to vampires. “Were you the other victim?”

In her version of history, it was Sister Agnes who served as the Mother Superior of this school. Clara was not about to ask how she came to power.

“She fed until…ecstasy greeted my passing…” Sister Maria whispered.

“Do I look different? Say, older?” Clara asked.

“She was a young woman, older than the grey-eyed child I brought to The Tower a year earlier,” Sister Maria replied.

A year earlier meant a lot of the timeline had changed. Clara remembered being the one who stabbed Drusilla as she drained the life from Father Michael. However, in this version of history, Clara was already at The Tower. None of that explained the scent of blood…unless…

“That means we share a lineage…” Clara said.

The idea was far-fetched, even for her. A spirit that insisted an older version of herself had killed Father Michael. I’m struggling to tie all the pieces together.

“Were you tortured?” Clara prompted.

Sister Maria’s head shot up toward the ceiling, and she wailed. The high-pitched scream reverberated off every surface and created ripples in the water. Clara closed her eyes and gave her head a shake. She was thankful that blinking rapidly helped to settle the world after that sonic attack. That explains references on Banshees…

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Clara said. “I’m sorry, Sister, that you had to suffer through that. However, it wasn’t me. For one, vampires don’t age.”

“You’re not here to torment me?” Sister Maria confirmed.

“I came here to find out what happened after I left for The Tower. I wanted to make sure that you’re at peace,” Clara lied.

Had Clara known, she might have made the trip for that reason alone, with an angel of death to assist. However, she had no clue. How could she have known? She needs to have a voice, to feel heard, and only then will she be able to move on.

“Really?” Sister Maria asked.

Clara spotted a half-submerged chair with a leg missing. She leaned it against a wall and sat down. It was time to get comfortable because this was going to take a while. It might help that I don’t appear as threatening like this.

“Of course, Sister,” Clara lied. “I think it’s time we caught up…”

* * * *

Clara was still soaked by the time the sun’s glow warmed her cheeks. As a precaution, she opted to exit through the ruins of the old chapel. From what Sister Maria said, the place had burned to the ground shortly after the attack. It was a shame that the group had gone. Judging by the sun, they left hours ago.

“I can’t imagine they’d let me back on the bus like this anyway,” Clara said while curling her own nose at her pungent scent.

She pulled out her phone and found a hotel an hour away on foot. To save herself some time, she cut through the rows of vines until she reached the road.

Had this been night she would have unfurled her wings and flown part of the way. In broad daylight that was impossible, instead her wings melted away like butter over a hot pan until her shoulders were once again smooth. Clara was once more her plain Jane self, destined to leave little trace of her passing.

A smile crept across her lips while a tear formed at the corner of her eye. She looked at her wrist, the familiar black beads of the silver rosary hung loosely. She brought it up to her lips and kissed the crucifix, comforted to have a connection with her past.

“I doubt this was Eleanor’s reason for giving me that clue,” Clara said as her boot soles squeezed out water with every step. “Still, I’m thankful for finding my way back here.”

Comforted or not, Clara had questions for Eleanor. Their paths crossed often and she guessed the opportunity would come up soon. This meeting with Sister Maria led to more questions than answers.

“Figures…” Clara grumbled.

CHAPTER 2

DEAD AND GONE

The next day Clara found herself following a tour group around several exhibits that covered an expansive room. She noted how many of the guests were wide eyed, impressed by the antiques and history contained herein. I’m older than some of this stuff.

“There it is,” Clara whispered.

The man standing beside her gave her an inquisitive glance but quickly returned his focus to their tour guide. Clara was not interested in this portion of the tour or even the rest of this museum. The angel was not about to lose the opportunity to gaze upon the details of her childhood home. It’s the only home I ever lived in.

Well, it was not her actual home, since the physical structure had been condemned and torn down decades ago. This was a black-and-white picture of it, housed within the local miners museum.

Despite the limitations in photography of that time, all the details were there. There was the white picket fence, and the two-storey home with single-pane windows. When a nor’easter was on the horizon, they had to nail the shutters in place along with the screen door. The house would creak and haw as the wind howled.

A cold drought always found its way through the walls, which reminded her of being outside on a cool spring day. On stormy nights, the howling wind blew through the chimney and prevented them from lighting a fire. Ada and Maria had to take turns keeping the fire going all night.

Clara gasped after spotting something at the back of their home. The rough wooden construction, slanted roof, and crescent moon carved out of the door were all she needed.

“That’s where Papa died from black lung—” Clara whispered before choking on her words. “My god…I almost forgot.”

To your left there’s an assortment of lanterns that miners used over the decades this mine was in operation…

The group moved away to have a better look at candle-powered lanterns, but Clara approached the glass display. A couple stood outside the property in the middle of the lane leading to their home.

The man was tall and wore his Sunday best with what looked to be a black derby hat. Whereas the lady wore a simple homemade dress and a straw bowler. As an accent she wore a fox pelt like a shawl. The inscription below the picture read: Photograph of an unknown couple taken circa 1880.

“Those were your parents?” Silver asked. “No wonder you turned out ugly!”

“Octavius and Theresa Grey,” Clara whispered.

This shot had been taken well before Clara came into the picture. They looked so happy and full of life, because they were at the genesis of their journey together. Whereas Clara knew her parents nearer to their deaths. They reached their bitter ends a little over twenty years after this picture was taken.

“They lived longer than I did,” Clara said, while blinking repeatedly.

This picture would have cost a pretty penny back in the day. Clara guessed this had been a wedding present, one that couples would rather exchange for something practical like a sewing machine. In their time, getting such a gift was as costly as investing in a new car was today. They could also pass down a Singer to the next generation.

Such items were commonly found at the company store…

The tour guide was right. Everything the workers bought, from food to tools, was provided by the company, with a healthy markup. It was nigh impossible to break away from management and the owners. People were born and died under the shadow of the company. Employees demanded a raise, and prices went up at the store…

We’ll be moving out to the mine soon. Please, take this opportunity to use the facilities…

A tear ran down her cheek, and Clara caught it before it rolled off. All of this happened a lifetime ago, and yet the emotions were just as raw now as they were when they buried their mother. The difference was that she had spent decades burying those emotions.

“This is all Hecate’s doing,” Clara whispered.

“You make it easy,” Silver countered.

Clara had to be careful, diving any deeper into grief and despair was liable to make her turn translucent. Given the media buzz she generated by fighting that werewolf, turning into a ghostly apparition in public would be noticed.

She steeled her resolve, took a picture of her parents using her phone, and retreated to the foyer where her group was assembling. It had been a stroke of blind luck to find that picture. She would have missed this opportunity entirely if not for the real reason she was here.

* * * *

Clara followed the group down the ramp into a world of shadow, coal, and blood. She knew firsthand what working in a coal mine did to people. She remembered how her father’s health worsened until it killed him. The blood he coughed up that night was black as coal dust.

She always imagined that it was hell for them down here, but being in a section of the actual mine made it real for her. This was a perpetually dark world that trapped both men and their animals. To commemorate the latter, they had a model of a horse that was about the size of a pony.

These horses were taken from a nearby island. Their diminutive size made them ideal to work down here…

Clara imagined how those horses once roamed free, away from humans, living a carefree existence. One day, ships filled with men would sail up to their island. They were captured and taken away from all they knew. Once here, they were forced down a dark tunnel and worked to death, ever surrounded by coal and shadow.

“Now there’s a face worth kissing,” Silver said. “Unlike yours!”

“They never saw the light of day again,” Clara whispered.

These horses had met their hell well before being greeted by death. At least the miners did so willingly and could return to warm themselves with the sun’s life-giving glow. Although, the memory of the company trying to evict her family after Papa died certainly forced her to reconsider that view. How much free will did these workers have?

Toward the end of the tour, they were led to a break area. Her father never mentioned such a place in the depths. At least nothing with enough ambient light for plants to grow. To see these delicate green-leafed plants growing in such a hostile environment created a disconnect in her mind. However, that was nowhere near as jarring as what her other senses were picking up.

There was not much time for breaks. Many kept on working because they were paid on the amount of coal, they…

The sound was faint but persistent. It was as though someone was sweeping a floor, first in one direction and then the other. It was also rhythmic, subtle, and she knew that no one else was aware of it. That’s the ocean above our heads. Some of them would panic if they knew.

Above those beams, there were layers of coal, rock, dirt, and mud. Right above their heads the Atlantic ocean reigned supreme, with the waters dancing over the sea floor.

While Papa never mentioned it, they knew that one false move or a failure of the pumps would send the waters rushing in. It wouldn’t matter if they could swim.

“I had it easy,” Clara whispered. “I faced monsters that could be killed. His demons were notional and ever-present.”

When mines like these were decommissioned, the company would turn off the pumps and let the waters flood…

Day in and day out her father went in willingly for a pittance of pay. While he died on the surface, he had been no better off than the horses they dragged down here. At least those beasts once tasted freedom, whereas her father’s fate was sealed by having been born in this town. My eldest sister, Ada, ended up marrying a miner…

Her father might have been a nasty drunk, but he never showed fear through those steel-grey eyes. Every day he worked in an environment where a single mistake could bring about his demise. One could die from a mine collapse, suffocate from a poisoned atmosphere, drown, or be torn apart in an explosion. While black lung eventually got him, his hands were always steady. Is that where I got my fearlessness?

She supposed it was possible, but The Tower played a part in that as well. A hunter that panicked did not live for long going up against creatures that dwarfed humans in speed, strength, and cunning. She discovered The Tower’s meddling when a vampire bit into her and triggered a failsafe. They designed the program to prevent hunters from changing sides, effectively driving them into a frenzy. They made me a weapon.

The group was already halfway up the tunnel by the time she realised the tour was done. She turned away from the group and waved goodbye to all those who suffered and toiled in this purpose-built hell. Never had she felt more connected with him than now. It was a shame it had taken well over a century to make the trip.

Clara held her breath as an idea bubbled to the surface. After realising she had stopped, she closed her eyes and exhaled.

“Right… Time to pay my respects,” Clara said.

* * * *

Clara knew she was headed for disappointment by going to the graveyard. Both her parents had been given a pauper’s funeral, so there were no gravestones to find. After decades of neglect, the plain wooden crosses would have rotted away. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. These grave markers beat my parents to the punch…

She was further disappointed after finding Ada’s grave. The last time they spoke was at the train station. Her sister had caught the eye of a young miner who promised her a good life. According to this headstone, Ada died three years later from complications brought on by a breech birth.

Clara stood at the foot of Ada’s grave, which overlooked the waters over the mine. She was thankful that most of the souls here had gone to their final destination. Imagine your grave overlooking the place that sapped a bit of your vitality, day by day, year by year.

“I wish I’d been a part of your life,” Clara said softly as water welled up around her eyes.

So many had died while Clara remained focused on moving ever forward. Ada died around the time Clara began training at The Tower. She had been too caught on humbling her peers to even ask how her sisters were doing.

It was the same with Edith, a fellow student she once revered, who later became her hunting partner. After Edith botched a mission that nearly got them both killed, Clara began hunting by herself and never looked back. You’d think I was a horse with blinders on…

“If you’re going to keep whining,” Ethereal hissed, “stand aside and let us drive!”

What about Elizabeth? The woman she saved from a vampire’s wrath. The one she wanted to settle down with. I gave up on waiting for her to take the first step…

These were just the tip of the iceberg, and it was too late for her to make amends. Both her sisters had crossed the veil, and she was barred from re-entering Heaven. Clara may have inherited the powers of a goddess, but they did not. Either way, the power inherited from Hecate did not make her omnipotent, or omniscient. She was as flawed now as she had been in life. Despite my fuckups, I think that remains my biggest strength.

“All that and you still think that you’re better than us,” Sparky hissed.

“Goodbye, Ada,” Clara said.

She knelt to kiss the headstone and hung her head low. Clara remained like this until she worked up the courage to stand. Sure she made a plethora of mistakes in life and after, but it was time to swallow her pride and reach out.

“I wonder where my—” Clara said.

Whereas her ability to detect threats had not been dulled, Clara sensed she was no longer alone. Her head shot up, and her eyes darted across the horizon searching for danger. With nothing dead ahead, she turned on the ball of her foot fast enough that the world became a blur. Only once her eyes locked onto the sunburnt skin of an ally did her vision settle.

“Three rows right, second from the end,” Eleanor replied. “It hits home when you walk amongst the dead. A physical representation of how many died working those mines.”

Clara was not surprised by that answer. Eleanor was fast becoming an ally, even if the reason for this rapprochement eluded her. Hecate had been the goddess of spirits and ghosts, and that may have been the obvious reason. Still, there was more to it, like Clara treating Eleanor with respect, or that she was good for business.

Eleanor was easy to spot, assuming you were straddling the barrier between life and death. She was the proverbial woman in a white flowing dress that heralded death. Her raven-black hair, dark eyes, and sunburned skin may have been an oddity for a construct of the Greek gods, but it gave her a distinctive look that few would forget.

The angel of death would normally press pause on time. However, this time it was Clara who tested her powers. She focused her thoughts and snapped her fingers for effect to create a bubble of her own. It lacked the range of those created by Eleanor or Hecate and left the world shimmering after a hundred paces in all directions. It reminds me of staring at a mirage in the desert sun. Wait! Who do I channel for this?

“It’s me, you hack!” Silver exclaimed.

“You are getting better,” Eleanor said.

“You didn’t come to critique my power?” Clara asked.

“Ever the child begging for praise,” Silver said. “Well, you barely managed the task. Bravo…”

Without waiting for a reply, she did a right turn worthy of the finest soldier and stepped off. Being able to find her parents to pay her respects was great news. I’ll make sure headstones are placed at their graves.

“I suppose not,” Eleanor replied. “I was compelled here.”

“You have a soul to collect?” Clara confirmed.

“None for tonight,” Eleanor said while following Clara’s wake.

“You’re here because of me?” Clara questioned, unsure how to take such an answer. Keep it together, Clara, she’s not a threat.

She avoided asking how an agent of death had a light schedule. Some things are better left unanswered.

“You have no need of a guide,” Eleanor countered.

That was a fair point. Clara turned left and walked past the gravestones and voids that accounted for an unmarked grave. A quick glance at the dates confirmed she was on the right track.

“Are you saying I can summon you?” Clara asked.

“Not precisely,” Eleanor said. “I believe nudge is an apt description.”

“Here I was, hoping you’d invite me to a girls’ night out,” Clara quipped.

“No need. There’s always a free table when I enter a room,” Eleanor said before chuckling.

A humorous reply was not what she expected from an angel of death. While the delivery fell flat, Clara appreciated the effort.

“As long as I don’t mind stepping over a body or two?” Clara asked.

“Or there being no live entertainment,” Eleanor shot back.

Clara cracked a smile and looked over her shoulder to find the straight-faced embodiment of Death. She was not sure if this one was being serious or mastered the art of sarcasm.

“I may take you up on that,” Clara said. “So, are you alone?”

“What do you mean?” Eleanor asked.

“I’ve seen no one else guide souls,” Clara stated. “Are you the only one?”

Clara stopped by the second-to-last grave marker just as three additional copies of Eleanor appeared. She was not sure if their alignment was purposeful; there was one at every cardinal point. This just got interesting.

“Just I,” Eleanor said in unison.

“That’s daunting,” Clara said. “Why did you—”

Her parents had no grave markers, and yet she stood at a marked grave. The name meant nothing, or did not until she realised the man’s family name matched Ada’s married name. That can’t be a coincidence.

“This was Ada’s husband?” Clara confirmed.

“It was,” Eleanor of the North said.

Clara took the answer as being a clue. She noted the headstone was like Ada’s in appearance and similarly aged. Her husband died over a year before Ada passed. What? Pregnancies don’t last that long…

Several questions swirled around her head until one coalesced.

“Who paid for the tombstones?” Clara asked.

“Who indeed,” the Eleanor of the South replied.

“Did you take them to their final destinations?” Clara asked.

On a hunch she aligned herself to have the east and west versions of Eleanor on either side of her. This is starting to feel like a game.

“He came willingly,” Eleanor of the East said.

The Eleanor of the West did not say a word. Clara could go on asking questions until the Earth was absorbed by the sun, but there was little need.

“Back at the convent, Sister Maria said that my blood carried the scent of her murderer,” Clara said.

Eleanor cocked a brow. This must have been news to her. It was a challenge for Clara to not unleash a slew of questions on what the angel of death knew. Show some patience!

“Sister Maria passed willingly through the veil,” Eleanor of the East said.

“You mean the pale woman with stern features, about yay high and a voice that strikes fear into the heart of children?” Clara confirmed.

Eleanor of the East nodded before adding, “The one who died violently on the grounds?”

“How can you even tell them—” Clara asked before realising it was best to avoid that rabbit hole. “While I don’t remember it that way, that’s the one.”

“She went up the staircase,” Eleanor of the East said.

“Have you ever known a soul to return?” Clara asked.

That question was important, even if she knew of a few examples. Still, she suspected Eleanor would provide a cryptic response.

“Moreso of late,” the Eleanor of the East said. “However, I cannot sense their presence if they return.”

“I guess some inmates got out,” Clara said. “Troubling?”

“Very,” the Eleanor behind her said.

When Clara turned around to face the speaker, all the Eleanors were gone. The angel of death certainly had a flair for sudden exits. Surprise. Surprise. That leaves me with more questions than answers…

* * * *

Clara was back at the hotel room. In her days as a hunter, she had often been a guest of the best hotels money could buy. Vampires rarely toiled in the trenches, since they viewed themselves as being above humanity. To find her prey, Clara needed to hide in plain sight, offering herself up as a delectable meal… I made sure they got a severe case of indigestion.

A hunter’s life had its share of perks, including hotels, luxury train compartments, instantaneous travel to major destinations, and the outfits. Clara’s one passion was keeping up with the latest fashions and the Roaring Twenties had been a treat for her. It helped that she had the youth, beauty, and the body type to sell the styles…

These days she wore plain clothes, work boots, and stayed at run-of-the-mill places. There was nothing extravagant in her actions, nor did she indulge. Now she was simply…

“Practical and boring,” Clara said before letting all the air out of her lungs.

She missed the twenties. For her, the world was simpler back then. Sure, her life had always been teetering on the fine edge of a blade, but she was damn good at it. Clara also understood that way of life, and the perks were to die for. Everything she did these days felt like a chore. The gains she made tasted as sweet as a spoonful of sand.

“I’m sure Hecate has something to do with this,” Clara groaned.

As Clara gained mastery over Hecate’s powers, her self-control wavered. At night, while in a state between the dreamworld and reality, she sometimes heard them conspiring on how to escape her grasp. Their personas are bleeding through to my consciousness.

Come to think of it, that might explain why her relationship with Elizabeth had soured. However, Clara quickly discounted that thought. It was too easy to blame others for her choosing a quick release over the fruits of hard labour. I have to own up to my weaknesses.

“I can’t afford to burn all my bridges either,” Clara said.

She grabbed her phone from the top of a round table positioned near the air conditioner. She peered at the screen, but there were no notifications. That blank screen soured the contents of her stomach, even if it was totally irrational. No one she wanted to speak with even knew this number existed. Like moaning about getting no mail when no one knows where you live.

Clara tapped on her messages and was greeted by her brief conversation with the lawyer. She shook her head and tapped the button to start a new conversation. From there, she scrolled through a short list of contacts and selected Elizabeth from her choices.

Clara: It’s me, your live-in angel with black…

Her thumbs stopped typing. The message sounded way too cavalier for a woman who betrayed the one who she loved. Doubly so when it had been months since she made contact. Instead, she tried a different tactic.

Clara: I know you’re mad at me. I figured you needed some space…

This time she was trying to offload the blame for ghosting her girlfriend onto Elizabeth. That’s exactly the type of shit a drugstore cowboy would write to an ex when his latest catch falls through his clutches.

Clara was overthinking it. The words did not need to be eloquent, nor poetic. She only needed to write from the heart. Alas, Clara had made a career out of encasing her heart behind an impenetrable wall. Emotions get hunters killed…

Clara: Lizzie, this is Clara. I miss you.

The cursor taunted her, poisoning her mind with doubt and guilt. Her fingers hovered over the ‘Send’ button, but she could not work up the courage to tap. Frustrated, she flicked up and was greeted by the background image.

“It’s time to get some answers,” Clara said.

She tapped on an app that operated over the dark web. She rarely used it because the program taxed both the processor and battery. This thing is slower than a hungry horse pulling a heavy load with no hay in sight.

Still, it gave her the ability to conceal her whereabouts, and that was a feature she needed. Evelyn had her own priorities, so Clara needed to take precautions when dealing with the vampire. Because of her manipulation, I experienced the most intense orgasm in my life, and fucked things up with Elizabeth.

At least she was able to forgo the chit chat when dealing with Evelyn. The two of them rarely showed any hint of authentic emotion, which made their relationship about as productive as finding the truth at a political gala. I used to think my relationship with Elizabeth was dysfunctional…

Clara: I need some information. Did Drusilla have a protégé?

Drusilla had been a powerful vampire hellbent on subjugating humanity. She encountered signs of this vampire several times in her life, because she often used proxies to wage war without getting her hands dirty. Putting her down was the best thing I ever did.

Clara set down the phone and turned her attention to the other side of her window. From this angle she had a view of the Atlantic. There were white caps forming over the waves and dark clouds loomed in the horizon. A storm is brewing.

“I’ve been looking for a reason to stay in tonight,” Clara mused.

She searched the room for a booklet on local restaurants or some flyers. Clara’s search was cut short when the phone vibrated. Clara cocked a brow, surprised a response came so quickly.

Evelyn: Any woman that powerful rarely travels alone.

This was precisely the type of non-answer she expected from the likes of them. Them being the term most hunters used when referring to vampires. Clara could be at this all night and get nowhere. At least, not without showing my hand.

Clara: Was it someone I knew?

Clara suspected that question would take some time to answer. She spotted some pamphlets near the television and went to grab them.

She flipped through the pamphlets until one called out to her. There was no option to order online, so she would need to make a call. As she reached for her phone, it vibrated.

Evelyn: You’ve been back home.

“She trusts you as much as we do,” Ethereal taunted.

Her eyes went wide, and her grip on the phone tightened until her knuckles turned white. The loss of control was temporary, which was fortunate, because more strength would have shattered the screen. That would have interrupted our little chat…

Clara: You knew?

Evelyn: I suspected.

Clara: I need answers.

A map attachment appeared in her reply. The beer stein collocated with the destination marker hinted she would hit a speakeasy tonight.

“That’s more like the Evelyn I know,” Clara said.

She eyed the pamphlet and pouted. Her plans for tonight had changed as suddenly as the weather. As though taunting Clara, Mother Nature called upon the skies to lead the charge with heavy rain.

“I guess it’s time to get all dolled up,” Clara said grimly. “Now, where did I put my munitions?”

CHAPTER 3

FIGHT NIGHT

Clara was accustomed to working with nebulous clues. It came part and parcel with being a hunter and never changed when she began taking orders from angels. Direct answers were a rarity, unless they were lies. So, when Evelyn simply gave her a destination with no information to work with, Clara rolled with it.

Clothes were a critical component of any hunt. If she showed up to a socialite party wearing a corset, they would peg her as a Mistress Grundy. Alternatively, showing up at some rundown gin joint dressed to the nines would send up red flags as well. Well…unless they’ve had way too much giggle water…

Wings further complicated matters, since they were hard to conceal at the best of times. Tonight, she opted to attend as her plain Jane self. However, that made the act of getting all dolled up a challenge. She could use up a tube of lipstick to create the perfect cupid’s bow and her lips would return to normal the second she looked away from the mirror.

There were also limits to what she could do with her hair. If she used a curling iron, applied hair dye, spray, or gel, the effects would revert to normal before she left the room. However, pins, clips, and elastics remained in place. This limited her options, but a bun with loosely hanging hair would do.

Clothes were a different matter, because they did not vary between states. Hence if she walked outside wearing nothing but a smile, that would get her noticed, but not for the right reasons. Tonight, she opted for a black knee-duster, a short-sleeved blouse, and high-heeled shoes. In addition, she wrapped Father Michael’s rosary around her wrist and a silver-and-onyx necklace to match. This will have to do!

* * * *

Clara held a clutch purse in one hand while reaching for the door of an Irish pub. On the outside, she appeared to be harmless, but the small-calibre pistol and the surprise stashed in her purse said otherwise. Either way, she was not concerned about them. In life they may have been her better, but she now had the upper hand.

She cracked the door and was immediately greeted by the sounds of a busy pub—tankards hitting the table, utensils striking plates, and a lot of conversation. This was the place to be at tonight. That reality forced her to wonder where the threat was. Although there aren’t enough cars parked outside to account for everyone here.

Through all that cacophony, there was something off. When drowning in stimuli, it often paid to focus on what was missing from the equation. There are fewer hearts beating in here than there are people. Despite her best efforts to stick out, no one gave her a second glance.

“Why would anyone ever notice a plain girl like you?” Silver asked.

It took her a moment to get a feel for the layout. She checked the website prior to coming here but wanted to tie it all together in her mind. The most important details for any hunting ground were the exits and potential areas of risk. Odd…that door doesn’t line up with any known exits…

She spotted an empty stool at the bar and smiled. As she manoeuvred past the tables and patrons, she noticed several moved out of the way, including those facing away from her. It reminded her of water flowing around the hull of a ship as it made headway. Few appear aware they are doing it.

It surprised most, especially hunters, that vampires were creatures of faith. Most of them subscribed to a religion that was the antithesis of Christianity. While wielding a cross had no effect on them, they had an aversion to holy water and the faithful. Young ones were rarely aware of their aversion, as it was purely instinctual for them, whereas elders could temper their response. Those were the dangerous ones, and there was at least one here tonight, as judged by his less-than-cordial stare.

Why would there be so many of them here? She might have expected one or two in such a small community, but a baker’s dozen was something else entirely. She made a note to ask if the opportunity came up.

Clara hopped up onto the stool and turned to face the bar. The dark-stained wood, brass fittings, and tin ceiling gave this place an air of authenticity. There were people seated on either side of her, but their hearts were beating strong and true. Evelyn’s the only one I met who can maintain a heartbeat.

The kitchen was bustling with activity. Severs carried out plates that ranged from your standard pub fare to thick and hearty stews. It was the latter that made her salivate. The pang of hunger that followed reminded her she could have been enjoying some pizza and a sappy movie back at the hotel. No rest for the wicked.

“What can I get ya?” the bartender asked.

Clara had forgotten all about the local accents. She even supposed that she used to speak like that as a child. It was distinctive on account of the region’s strong Gaelic influence. It had its charm, to be sure, although she suspected the locals stuck out when they left the island.

“What do you have on tap that’s local?” Clara asked.

While the bartender rhymed off their selection, her eyes rolled up toward the mirror at the back of the bar. As she focused, his syllables grew longer while the pitch dropped. The effect was like slowing down the rotational speed of a record on a turntable. Added to the effect, everyone’s movements slowed until they were nearly on pause.

She looked over those reflected in the mirror, many of whom appeared to be human, but a few twitched. When observed at normal speeds, such movements appeared to be a trick of the eye. This served to further confirm she was amongst them, since few could negate the effects of their heightened speed and reflexes.

“Do you have a dry stout?” Clara asked on a whim, given that it fit the decor.

Her years of practice was the only reason the bartender never noticed something was off when she answered. From her point of view, it took the man an eternity to respond, longer still for her to answer. This gave her plenty of time to monitor the crowd, even though it appeared like she was simply ordering food and drink. Near the front entrance, there was someone standing near the door that was not on the website’s layout. That didn’t take long to get noticed.

“I’ll have that,” Clara said after returning in sync with time. “Say, what’s the special for tonight?”

“Tonight we have braised-lamb-shanks stew, and pan-seared sea scallops and mushrooms,” the bartender replied.

Those options drove home how much she missed having a kitchen of her own. In the end it was her stomach that voted. The odour of the lamb shanks wafting in from the kitchen sealed the deal.

“That lamb-shanks stew sounds divine,” Clara said. “Please and thank you.”

A part of her wanted to mimic his accent but held back. Getting involved in an in-depth conversation on what part of the island she hailed from would complicate matters. He wouldn’t believe the answer.

“Coming right up, my darling,” the bartender added with a wink.

Clara missed the less-than-subtle attempt at flirting. In the background, four more of them entered the pub through the spare door. They were posing as couples out on a double date, but there was no chemistry to be found between the lot of them. Besides, they all gave the bar a hard look before making eye contact with the one monitoring her.

For now, it paid to keep it cool and her heart rate steady. If her pulse, perspiration, or breathing inadvertently climbed, they might figure she knew of the danger. For now, she was free to enjoy the food and drink with emphasis on the latter. Indulging in alcohol would further lull them into a false sense of safety. It will hopefully give me time to thin out the civilian population…

* * * *

The patrons dwindled in number as both hands on the clock approached their apex. Clara had plenty of time to finish her meal and polish off several pints of stout. What a shame they had no effect on her. She remembered what it was like to ride a wave of inebriation until she was comfortably numb. Their bar doesn’t have enough stock to even give me a buzz.

As a way of delaying the inevitable, she mimicked increasing signs of inebriation. That last part was simple, all she had to do was make awkward movements, slur her words, and pretend that fatigue was setting in. Her acting skills must have been adequate, because the observer was now smiling. By adding in his furrowed brow, burning eyes, and thin white lips, she had few doubts about what was going on through his mind.

After her sixth drink, the establishment was mostly devoid of life. Minus the kitchen staff and the bartender, that is. Since her arrival, several had joined the ranks of the undead, most through that door she could not account for. The last time she checked, the parking lot was nearly empty, leaving Clara to surmise they were coming in from below. I wonder if they were keeping watch at other locations?

There were twenty-two vampires in all at last count. That was a phenomenal number given this sparse population centre. Their presence only made sense if they were here for a reason. Even with the numerical advantage, the likelihood of a successful attack against her was low. They’d have better odds of winning the lottery tonight…

Even in the prime of her life, such a situation would have meant meeting death. No amount of holy water or headshots would enable her to get out of this situation alive. Now the tables had turned, but she doubted they were actually aware of that… I’m looking forward to having a bit of fun.

Clara glanced at the mirror and spotted the smiling man. Her eyes lingered long enough on him to make sure he knew she noticed him. After that she reached for her purse and fumbled around for the phone. To appear spooked, her heart rate went through the roof while she fumbled multiple attempts to unlock her phone with the wrong finger. That should convince them I’m panicking.

“Can I get you anything?” the bartender asked.

“No,” Clara replied just as her eyes took a bright-blue glow. “Thank you.”

As expected, the unearthly colour got his attention. He nearly backed himself into the shelf of the bar. It was fortunate for the living that nothing had fallen, otherwise this party might have started early.

“Why don’t you go take a long break along with the rest of the kitchen staff, love?” Clara said in a matching accent.

No amount of politeness or authenticity of accent would shake his newly found fear of the one with glowing eyes. She silently hoped he remained oblivious to the real threats in here. That poor man wouldn’t stand a chance.

When her phone was finally unlocked, she tapped her phone icon and pressed on the number ‘nine.’ She was two digits away from calling for help, when Smiley disappeared from sight.

“I haven’t seen one of your kind in almost a century,” Smiley said.

“Sounds about right. What gave me away?” Clara asked.

Her voice quivered imperceptibly to anyone but one of them. Meanwhile her eyes scanned the area nervously, as though looking for an exit.

“That religious trinket of yours for one, and your scent,” Smiley said.

“No fair!” Clara exclaimed before pouting. “I showered.”

“At least there will be plenty of alcohol coursing through your veins,” Smiley said as they converged.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Clara said in a steady voice.

Her eyes came to life once more, flooding the room in electric-blue light.

“Wait, you’re not a—” Smiley said.

“Hunter?” Clara confirmed. “You weren’t wrong there, but I’m so much more.”

Clara pointed a finger at an overhanging light. A blue bolt filled the expanse between the two points and caused every light in the pub to overload. Everyone was bathed in a shower of sparks. To her left, the breaker box by the bar caught fire.

“Nicely done!” Sparky exclaimed.

“Don’t encourage her!” Ethereal snapped.

Vampires hated fire but did not fear the dark. However, Clara was using this tactic as a distraction.

It was time to give up her plain Jane persona. Clara’s blouse tore at two points, and her wings spread out in the shadows. She grabbed the pistol from her clutch while time slowed around her. Clara made sure it was just enough to make it fun and go toe-to-toe with their kind.

By the time the sparks died out, she had vanished. The vampires turned to one another, having no clue of what just happened. Then a body hit the floor as though they passed out, but the head was missing.

“Any last words?” Clara said, her voice booming out from every direction.

Thinking ahead, Clara further fell out of sync with time, until the world was nearly at a standstill. Her ability to maintain this state was ironically time limited, so she needed to be quick about it. She used the opportunity to push the pool table against the back entrance, engage the locking mechanisms on the remaining doors, and fuse the parts together with a quick jolt.

When she returned to a fighting state, Clara smiled. Several of them made a run for it only to discover that they were too late.

“Your parlour tricks won’t work on us,” Smiley said in defiance.

His face was partially illuminated by the dying flames around the power panel. There came three long tones originating from her clutch purse. After the third, the sound went solid like a patient flatlining in a hospital.

A bright flash of light followed. The shockwave shattered every bottle at the bar along with the mirror. While the explosion was not powerful enough to blow Smiley away, it tore apart a vampire standing next to the purse.

“I like my chances,” Clara said before swooping down from the ceiling like Valkyries did on the battlefield.

* * * *

“Wake up, lazy bones,” Clara said after landing a solid slap across his face.

The sound echoed off the walls of the hotel room. Alas, the vampire stirred but did not regain consciousness. Tired of waiting Clara grabbed the ice bucket and poured the contents over his head.

There was no immediate effect, but as time went on, his skin and hair began to smoke and sizzle. Smiley’s eyes opened wide, as though panicked. Within seconds he was fighting against his rope restraints that kept him bound to the chair. The bolts she put through that floor were there to make sure he could not try to run off with the chair.

“No fair,” Sparky said. “Why does she get to have all the fun?”

“There we are,” Clara said. “What do you think of my parlour tricks now?”

As the burning subsided in intensity, Smiley glared at her. The area surrounding them was shimmering, enveloped by a bubble of time. Hotel guests and staff were oblivious to what was going on inside. Given the difference in the passage of time, his screams would sound like an insect chirp. The only ones who would take notice are exterminators…

“I’m rather curious why there were so many of you there? The local herd is rather thin to support so many,” Clara said.

Smiley did not reply. Vampires spent centuries hiding their emotions. That explained why The Tower directed hunters to kill rather than gather intelligence. After considering how manipulative they were, it was no surprise hunters were often turned or killed in the attempt.

This one was unsuccessfully drawing from the usual bag of tricks. Clara smirked at his Bela Lugosi impression and backed away. Time was on her side. In a couple minutes, he would panic, because the window faced east.

She passed through the bubble in time and opened the window. The scent of brine carried by the wind brought forth memories of her youth here. I missed this.

“I could cut off your fingers, rip out your fangs, gouge out your eyes, or fillet your hand’s favourite friend,” Clara said.

“Go ahead,” Smiley said. “You won’t get anything out of me.”

Behind all that bravado, there was an underlying message riding those words, but the attempt fell flat. Vampires could lure victims or make them susceptible to suggestions. I wonder if legends about sirens were nothing more than vampires living along the coasts?

“What?” Clara asked. “Why would I ruin this outfit?”

Clara had taken the time to change while Smiley had been unconscious. She was back to wearing what was normally worn on her travels; a sports bra, long-sleeve plaid shirt, comfortable jeans, and work boots that were steel toed and steel shanked. I like to leave an impression when I walk over someone.

“Then what are you going to do?” Smiley asked.

Clara smiled, mimicking the one he sent her way last evening. The vampire furrowed his brow, unsure of the message she conveyed, until the ocean breeze rolled in from the Atlantic.

“You’re just going to let me fry?” Smiley asked.

“You said it yourself, why waste my time,” Clara said.

“Wait—” Smiley said.

“No need to convince me.”

“No—”

“I thought it would be so romantic—” Clara said.

“P—”

“Just imagine…”

“Please—” Smiley said.

Clara moved in close enough that even an elder vampire could not ignore her presence. Still, she knew her trade, and the bindings would hold.

After a minute wasted in his attempt to escape, the vampire calmed down. Clara’s hot breath was felt against his cold skin. She licked him, which caused his skin to react as though it was holy water.

“You and I are going to watch the sunrise over the Atlantic,” Clara whispered.

“Clara Grey!” Smiley spat out.

“What about her?” Clara whispered into his ear.

Her index finger ran over the burned flesh. It not only aggravated the pain, but it also reminded him who was leading this dance.

Clara was not surprised to hear the name. The Hiccup might have created a double, a doppelgänger who had chosen a different path. Then again, he might yet surprise her with an entirely different theory. However, Smiley needed to volunteer any information, otherwise she risked guiding the answer until it turned into a lie. So, I have no choice, but to let the clock run out.

“We were instructed to watch out for her,” Smiley said.

“Why?” Clara whispered.

To toy with him, she hummed some ditty from back in her day. She was certain this love song would keep him in the mood.

“She said Clara would be back one day,” Smiley said. “We were instructed to take her alive.”

“She?” Clara asked in a sultry voice.

“I-I-I can—”

Clara took out her phone and pointed the screen back at them. She tapped on the camera app from her lockscreen for a selfie.

“Silly me,” Clara said. “We simply must commemorate this—”

“Ada!” Smiley yelled.

The vampire did not need to breathe, but as the sun threatened to peek over the horizon, his baser instincts asserted themselves. Elements of his mind that he spent years mastering were now entirely beyond his reach. This was precisely where Clara needed him to be, to grant her access to a mind on the cusp of losing sanity and devoid of defences.

“Hmm,” Clara said. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

“I swear it’s true!” Smiley yelled. He’s about to lose it…

“Who’s Ada?” Clara asked to conceal what she knew. “What would she want with Clara?”

She was thankful for going out as her plain Jane self. Clearly they were looking for the elements of her regular appearance, but she was concealed. Other than Smiley, no one else was left standing, negating any chances of someone reporting back. Is he spewing nonsense?

“They were sisters. Clara got all the glory and led a life of privilege,” Smiley said. “Ada said it was time to tip the scales…”

She was surprised anyone would call the life of a hunter privileged. Heck, she beat a hunter’s life expectancy by living into her thirties. Although, even she had to admit that clothes, hotels, sex, and food were wonderful perks for a nun. There’s a significant cost associated with that lifestyle…

“Where were you supposed to deliver this poor girl?” Clara asked.

While the bubble afforded them more time to chat, there was no way of stopping the sun from peeking over that horizon. Shortly thereafter, this room would turn into a raging inferno.

“Ada was to relay coordinating instructions—” Smiley answered.

“Funny,” Clara said. “I don’t believe you.”

She stepped away and grabbed her backpack along with a hard-shelled suitcase. With the press of the button, her suitcase dropped to the floor, and she was ready to roll.

“I’m telling you—” Smiley pleaded.

“It’s been nice, but I have—”

“My phone,” Smiley wheezed.

“What about it?”

“It has the number programmed into it.”

Clara smiled. Now they were getting somewhere.

“Codeword? Instructions?” Clara asked.

Smiley shook his head. His eyes were glassy and his jaw was slack. There isn’t much of his mind left.

“Well, it’s been grand. Now, be a dear and lock up on your way—”

“I—”

“—out,” Clara finished.

She walked out of her bubble and left the room. Upon reaching an emergency exit, she pulled the alarm. The hotel was immediately bathed in a banshee’s shriek along with bright pulses of light. That would hopefully prompt people to evacuate. Clara pushed past the fire doors and found herself on the outside.

Less than a minute later, the sun broke over the horizon, and an orange flash appeared from within her bedroom. With any luck, the authorities would link Smiley with the altercation at the pub. Investigating that mess should keep them off my ass for a while.

“Do you know what’s going on?” an elderly couple asked.

The old woman was still in her nightgown. While Clara felt a twinge of guilt for the inconvenience, at least they were safe.

“I’m not sure,” Clara said. “I heard it was a man with a severe sunburn.”

The couple turned to each other, probably unsure if they should thank her or have her committed for a psychiatric evaluation. Clara smiled politely and walked off toward the bus terminal. Retracing her steps turned out to be more of an adventure than anticipated.

“Not only is Ada undead, but she hates me…” Clara said grimly.

* * * *

Clara’s gambit with Smiley paid off in part. She now had the means of reaching out to her sister, but she had serious reservations on doing so. As a vampire, Ada had been firmly entrenched in Drusilla’s camp, and that meant they were diametrically opposed. We are figuratively and literally blood enemies.

She hoped there was a way to get beyond a century of hatred and distrust. However, Smiley had mentioned how Ada believed her life would have been better had they switched places. That such an exchange was impossible would mean little to her sister. The only reason they sent me to that school was because I was young enough to go.

It did not help that she knew nothing about Ada’s life after Clara was escorted to the school. Clara knew that Ada’s husband had been dead a year before that headstone was erected. She also knew that without a husband, living within that community would have been a challenge.

Their mother kept the house because the workers banded together after Papa’s death. However, the ringleaders who galvanised the workforce ended up dying in unrelated accidents shortly thereafter. Clara was certain this would have prevented further attempts. How could a woman eke out a living in such a hostile environment? The same way our mother did…

Clara assumed Ada could not find another suitor. That left prostitution as the only option. Few who tasted that level of desperation would turn down the opportunity for immortality and power. Especially with Drusilla flaunting her beauty and wealth. All that for the low cost of a soul.

“Had this happened to me, I’m not sure I’d have done differently,” Clara said.

As a child she was unaware of why her mother’s mind rotted away, but it was obvious now. No one should have to bear witness to a loved one dying from tertiary syphilis… Nor deal with the ghoul who came looking for a fresh corpse.

For the moment, what happened to Ada was all conjecture. This was little more than a theory slapped together with little to no information. Before going off half-cocked into the world in search of her undead sister, she needed to know a lot more. There’s a reason I was sent to that pub…

“I need to find out what Evelyn knows,” Clara said.

She leaned back in her chair, causing the scent of cigarette smoke to waft from the material. The nearest hotel to this bus depot only had smoking rooms available tonight. Everything she touched was greasy; even the walls had a tinge of brown, as the paint was impregnated with smoke.

“I like this place,” Ethereal said. “Reminds me of you.”

“It’s hard to believe I used to spend my nights in gin joints hoofing the night away,” Clara said. “The smoke was so thick it was blue. What colour were my lungs?”

She waited for the odours to dissipate before returning her focus to the phone. If she reached out for answers, that meant stepping through a door that was best left shut. That biscuit won’t cooperate unless I repay the favour.

“Heh,” Clara said. “That’s a rather fitting nickname for her.”

Biscuit was slang for a pettable flapper, or more appropriately a hedonistic young lady who would be up for some fun. Evelyn certainly seemed to embody many of these elements. Perfect!

The last time Clara sought to pay her debt, she ended up doing the bum’s rush at a club and decimated the city’s vampire population. It was not entirely Evelyn’s fault. She had The Tower to thank for putting in that failsafe.

However, Evelyn ended up reaping the rewards for what happened that night. She also took advantage of Clara’s souring relationship with Elizabeth to claim her prize. In one night, several players had been removed from Evelyn’s chessboard and she ended up with a fresh notch on her bedpost. I felt dirty and was left to harbour all that guilt.

Clara had sworn to carry on alone but had no allies, nor anyone to leverage for information. The type of intelligence she needed on Ada would not fall out of the sky… It doesn’t help that I miss the biscuit?

“Can I handle this by myself?” Clara asked.

Was it possible for Clara to find her sister, someone who successfully kept out of sight all this time? With what resources? Her heart sank when she realised the answer was obvious. The only course of action she had was to return to Evelyn’s sphere of influence. The last time I flirted with the devil, I got burned… Still; it was fun!

“She can’t be serious,” Silver said.

“What?” Sparky asked.

“Shut up, you,” Ethereal snapped.

“She’d rather play with that harlot than us,” Silver said.

“Really,” Sparky confirmed.

“Yes, really,” Ethereal asked.

“Shut it,” Silver hissed. “The both of you.”

Clara popped open her secure messaging app and stared at Evelyn’s thread. She hesitated until a tear rolled down her cheek. The shock of being so emotionally compromised forced her hand.

Clara: We need to talk.

Clara saw Evelyn typing a response. In her current state, she waited for what felt like an eternity. In reality, it had taken less than a minute.

Evelyn: Sure.

Her eyes narrowed at the sight of that one word. Either Evelyn had crafted something more substantial and changed her mind, or her phone was underpowered for the task. It might take that long to get a word out…

Clara: Same place?

Evelyn: No.

Clara: Why?

Evelyn: It was too dangerous for us to stay.

The risk must have been considerable for Evelyn to give up the home she built over decades. I couldn’t imagine there was much of a threat after I thinned out the herd.

This was not an appropriate venue to delve into the details. She needed to face Evelyn. Only then did she stand a chance of getting to the truth… It’s not like the sisters are going to help me achieve my goal.

Clara: Where?

Evelyn: About 1151.1 kilometres west.

Clara: From?

Evelyn: Your position.

There were plenty of reasons to consider that response suspicious. This was the second time Evelyn showed prophetic insight on her whereabouts. The one from last night might have been an educated guess. However, narrowing Clara’s location to a rundown hotel along a bus route? Now, there’s a talent reserved for gods.

“Hey! No fair,” Silver whined.

Frustrated, she pressed on the first word of the conversation. The copy and paste function kicked in, highlighting the entire conversation. Horsefeathers!

There were boxes trailing Evelyn’s replies. They were invisible on the screen unless highlighted. Those images required internet access…

“I still have a lot to learn,” Clara said while shaking her head.

Clara let out a deep breath and closed her eyes. A part of her wanted to strangle Evelyn, but that would get her nowhere. She’d probably enjoy the experience…

“Sometimes you just need to accept defeat and swallow your pride,” Clara said.

Clara: You could have asked where I was.

Evelyn: Why ruin the fun?

Clara: Well played.

Evelyn: Why thank you!

While Clara imagined the biscuit sending a screenshot of this conversation to her sire for a laugh, in reality, it made no difference to the situation. She had a rough destination to aim for, and getting there would be relatively straightforward. Is it?

“Airports are out of the question,” Clara said.

Airports and international borders were the last place she wanted to be. For one, the security would be tighter and her legitimate proof of citizenship would be discounted on account of her being one-hundred-and-forty years old without looking a day over thirty. The fact they were still on the lookout for the Valkyrie did not help either.

Before booking any reservations, she looked up potential Terminus points along the way. One was nearby, which turned out to be the first gate she had ever used. You’d think the stars have aligned for this to happen.

If she got lucky, one of those gates might still be active. That in turn would permit her access to The Tower, and from there she would finally have answers on what happened after she was cut off. Still, not likely…

If she took the indirect route to reach the nearest gate, there were two other end-points along the way. They would have changed the end-points several times since she used them last. I might be able to track them down and get more detail about what happened during the attack.

Clara came up with a rough time estimate, which included backtracking to grab a ferry. It would take her less than a week to reach Evelyn’s new seat of power. I may as well take my time and enjoy the scenery…

Clara: I’ll see you in a fortnight.

Evelyn: I’ll be waiting.

CHAPTER 4

WOLFE’S SHADOW

That night, Clara hitchhiked her way toward the ferry station. Given that sitting on the bed evoked vivid imagery of sleeping atop an overflowing ashtray, she figured this was a better use of her time. It’s not like I need to sleep.

She enjoyed a late-night meal at a steakhouse that several locals raged about. While waiting for her supper, she went online to secure a spot on the first ferry out in the morning. It was doubtful there was much demand, but this guaranteed her passage.

As payback, Clara charged it to Evelyn’s credit card. The one they provided her, when they first agreed to a proverbial mutual-defence pact. Since they already knew her general whereabouts and where she would end up, Clara might as well take advantage of the perks.

“Here’s to you,” Clara said while lifting her frosted mug of beer in the air.

The restaurant was so busy that no one paid her any heed. This was her way of rebelling, her way of giving Evelyn the middle finger from a time zone away. Enjoy the bill.

* * * *

The next morning, she boarded the ferry and crossed the strait in a little over an hour. The journey had been a nightmare as a child, dragged along by a nun who made the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland look like a stoner who liked to kick the gong around. I can’t imagine how bad it would’ve been had we actually been on a schedule.

The ferry was also far more stable than a sailing ship. She remembered the ship riding the gentle waves. While not prone to seasickness, her mind was aware of every motion. I can’t feel a thing now.

A hundred years ago, she had been greeted by rusty sands and endless farmland. While the iconic red soil remained, the farmland had retreated from the shore. It was startling for her to come face to face with so many changes.

She was tempted to head straight to that cathedral they were building when she first made landfall. However, The Tower would have moved the gateway many times since then. It was time to play it smart, do some research, and save herself the aggravation of chasing shadows.

“We have a pool going on how badly you’ll botch this,” Ethereal chimed.

“The odds aren’t good!” Sparky said with a giggle.

“Winner gets to annoy you for the rest of the week,” Silver said.

“Where should I start?” Clara asked herself.

Hunters from that era were all dead and buried. Even if one was still around, their access to The Tower’s central records archive had been cut off. In the unlikely event she came across some notes, hunters encoded their notes using notations only they could decipher.

The library was her best bet. If that failed, there were always the municipal and parish records. However, she had an ace up her sleeve. Clara had been travelling through the system when the Terminus was attacked. What destroyed her gate turned out to be a global event. Hence, all the gates were destroyed within a narrow timeframe.

Clara wondered if some gates were still active. So far, those she found were gone. Given the passage of time, she also had to assume many sites had been lost. She was sure time, natural disasters, and developers were slowly purging all traces of the Terminus.

“To the library!”

* * * *

Clara had been staring at a dimly lit screen for so long her eyes were bloodshot. It did not help that the interface took some getting used to. Even though such technology was new from her point of view, it was archaic by today’s standards. It doesn’t help that some of these controls are really finicky.

“Did you find what you’re looking for?” the librarian asked.

She took her hands off the controls and swivelled her chair in place. The features on the librarian’s face were strained, and those eyes were half-shut. Worst, there was nothing left of that beautiful smile she had on when Clara walked into the library.

Once the middle-aged woman realised Clara was no better off, a faint imprint of that smile returned to those lips. At least I’m getting sympathy for what I’m putting myself through…

“None so far,” Clara said. “How long do I have?”

“I can give you another twenty minutes,” the librarian said. “I’ll save us some time by taking the rest of the microfilm back to the archives.”

She was thankful for the librarian being so accommodating. This was the last reel that contained records from that time frame, and there was enough time to run through…assuming no more screw-ups. Otherwise, she would need to come back in the morning… Or break in.

“Thank you,” Clara said. “You’ve been the cat’s meow.”

Clara swivelled back toward the reader and missed the librarian’s reaction upon hearing that expression. As confusion faded from those features, the woman carted away some of the research material. Meanwhile, Clara brushed against the knob just enough to move her forward an edition. Eventually, she came across a front page featuring the picture of a burning building, with a headline that read: MYSTERIOUS EXPLOSION AT THE CUSTOMS BUILDING.

She froze, flabbergasted that she had been a couple of minutes away from getting the answers she needed. This was the evening edition of the newspaper, published the day the gateway spat her out. The blast had been powerful enough to blow the doors right off the gate, singe her dress, and scorch the surrounding grass. I can’t imagine the devastation it wrought when the gates were indoors…

“It could have easily caused an inferno,” Clara whispered.

“What was that?” the librarian asked.

The woman had returned from the archives room when Clara spoke, but she was not close enough to hear what was said. Thank goodness for minor miracles.

“I asked if you knew where this was?” Clara lied.

The woman approached and focused on the screen. There was no sign of recognition in those eyes, which was not surprising given how much time had passed.

“Let me get that for you,” Clara said.

The print was too small to make out, so Clara reached for the controls. The librarian must have had the same idea, and their hands touched. They remained like that for several heartbeats, before making eye contact, blushing, and pulling away.

“Oh…go ahead,” the librarian said. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice today.”

Clara’s eyes twinkled, and she winked. It had been a while since she last felt the gentle touch of another, even if it was accidental. She zoomed in and panned for a view of the article’s text.

“That gives me something to work with,” the librarian said. “Hmm, there’s nothing like that along the street they mentioned.”

“A dead end?” Clara asked.

“There was a major redevelopment project in that area during the seventies,” the librarian added. “There was a lot of opposition, but the mayor and key members of the city council were getting kickbacks…”

“The more things change,” Clara said.

She reset the reader and wound the reel. While waiting, Clara got up from the chair and stretched out her back. Sweet relief!

With that tape rewound, Clara put the reel back into its protective case and handed it to the woman.

“I really appreciate all your help today,” Clara said. “Do you need any help to carry these back?”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” the librarian said. “Take that pile over there and follow me.”

“Happy to do it. I’m Clara.”

“Dora.”

That name made her smile, for reasons she would never say aloud. A dumb Dora this gal is not. This was another expression that routinely confused anyone she came across, save Evelyn.

“What are you doing after this?” Clara asked, her voice quivering slightly from a lack of emotional control.

“I had nothing planned…” Dora said.

That last word hung in the air and left Clara hopeful there was interest in moving forward.

“How about dinner and drinks? Nothing better than the company of a great gal to explore the city,” Clara said.

“I’d be up for that,” Dora said. “Are you looking for something wild or—”

“Intimate,” Clara answered.

“—more intimate,” Dora finished.

They both smiled, excited they had the answer they wanted.

* * * *

Dora took Clara out on the town. First came the stiff drinks to loosen up, which was followed by a splendid meal and wine. After that came a romantic walk along the waterfront.

After it was all said and done, Dora took them back to her place for a bit of barneymugging. To win over someone based on something other than physical appeal proved to be an uplifting experience for Clara.

That morning, Clara woke up with a fresh dose of guilt. Once more she had betrayed Elizabeth, the woman she supposedly loved, for another quick release. Whatever bond she had formed with Dora over the course of the evening, they both knew this would be a one-night stand.

“At least, it was more entertaining than watching you rub one off before bed,” Ethereal said.

Clara slipped out of bed quietly, got dressed, and vanished from Dora’s life. Given that she had been in her plain Jane persona throughout, she wondered if Dora would end up remembering her at all. Imagine waking up in the morning with the taste of another woman on your lips, but with no idea how it got there…

At the hotel, Clara washed up before checking her phone. She eyed the chat window for Elizabeth, which was perpetually on ‘Draft,’ and hesitated. She had three choices, text, call, or send a request for a video chat. The guilt gnawed at her until she chose the fourth option by giving up in disgust. I need to get over myself.

“Right,” Clara said. “Time to hit the road.”

* * * *

It took Clara four days to reach the next gate point, using a combination of ferries and buses. In this city, Clara knew exactly where the gate had been, because this is where she ended up after the attack on the Terminus. While she should have ended up somewhere in Mexico, Clara ended up in the middle of a cemetery that had once been in the heart of New France.

She remembered the wall of flame creeping up on her from behind while in transit. Had she been stuck in there for much longer, the inferno would have consumed her entirely… And my story would have ended there…

Clara reached out to open the doors that once led to the Terminus and held her breath. She imagined a hallway of onyx on the other side. Instead, she was faced by reality, three stone coffins that occupied the crypt. The thick layer of dust that covered every surface was a clue that no one had been here in a very long time.

She did not take this as a sign of defeat. Clara knew full well the chances of finding an active gate were insignificant. To make the best of it, Clara reminded herself that this was an opportunity to revisit a short but defining part of her life.

On the way out, Clara nearly tripped over a dip. She paused and followed the anomaly for some distance in both directions. Curiouser and curiouser.

* * * *

She took a cab into the city that welcomed her after being sealed off from The Tower. For the first time in her life Clara had been entirely on her own. While several hunters surrendered to their despair of facing a world filled with monsters alone, Clara thrived. Well, in a manner of speaking…

With nothing left to lose, Clara devoted herself entirely to the cause. While successful, she died months later after destroying her greatest foe. That had been quite the victory, because hunters rarely came out ahead when faced by an elder vampire. Even Evelyn, who was less than four-centuries old, could easily take on a dozen of their finest hunters. She hides all that raw brutality behind makeup and high fashion.

“So that’s why you ran into us,” Silver confirmed. “I guess it was the will of the gods…”

“Shut up,” Clara snapped.

She booked a suite at the iconic Château-style hotel that overlooked the old city. Clara appreciated how this city held on to its rich history. This remained the only walled city on the continent, and several buildings who survived Wolfe’s onslaught were still standing.

Of course, the scars had been covered up with stone and mortar, while the blood had washed away long ago. History had been made at the cost of many lives. A part of her sensed there were many ghosts haunting this city, but she was not about to give into Ethereal’s urges.

“You don’t seem to have any trouble abusing my sister’s magic,” Ethereal countered.

The suite she booked at the hotel cost more per night than Elizabeth would pay in rent. She could not help but smile at the memory of cooking in that cramped kitchen. She loved it when Elizabeth checked her out thinking that the cook was otherwise too busy to notice. I just had to fuck it all up…and I still am.

The room, courtesy of Evelyn’s credit card, was also bigger than their apartment. The bathroom itself was a thing of wonder, with a tub large enough to swim in, and a shower that featured more jets than she knew what to do with. For a second I thought it was a carwash.

The opulence of it all left her a bit torn. She had indulged in luxury as a hunter, even within the halls of this very hotel, but this went beyond the pale. What counted as luxury in the Roaring Twenties had been relegated to bargain-basement accommodations today. This seems a bit much. Still, I probably won’t complain after getting a good night’s sleep in that bed…

“Not even Zeus had a temple like this,” Silver said.

She considered indulging in room service. The image of her sinking into the tub with wings unfurled, while sipping on champagne excited the mind.

“You can’t wash away your guilt,” Ethereal reminded her.

She decided against it; intent on enjoying the amenities of this hotel. Tonight, she would soak in the nostalgia, while gawking at the brass fittings, revolving doors, stunning chandeliers, and opulent carpets. This place brings me back to my time as a flapper.

* * * *

Clara meandered by the hotel store. There was a fall jacket in the window, the fur-lined cuffs and collar befitting an era long since passed. Her reflection in the glass reminded her she was still in jeans, which she needed to address before supper.

As she entered the shop, the clerk furrowed her brow at the sight of a tourist wasting her time. Clara smiled and ignored the clerk entirely. Her eyes flowed over the in-store selection until she spotted an assortment of dresses that made her swoon.

“You have a good eye,” the clerk said in Parisian French.

Clara was surprised by the accent. While accustomed to hearing French in this region, they were a long way away from a Parisian neighbourhood. The French accent here was more colloquial and colourful than their European cousins.

“I haven’t seen such fashions like this outside of a—” Clara replied, reproducing the same accent to irk the clerk.

The woman did not bite, which surprised Clara. She later learned there had been a recent exodus of immigrants from the old country. So meeting a fellow French citizen, or one who mimicked the accent flawlessly, was not at all uncommon.

“Costume shop?” the clerk asked.

Clara smirked before replying, “I was going to say a museum.”

She had been tempted to answer ‘my closet.’ However, that would set off several warning bells.

“How much?” Clara asked to spark up the conversation.

Clara pointed to a black dress. It was a long, sleeveless affair. There were two layers of ruffled material starting at the waist and working its way down at an angle to end at the mid-calf. The lower half of the dress was also at an angle. The top was held up with two straps, one a plain string, while the other was filled with fabric flowers. That dress could easily accommodate my wings.

Loyal to the flapper mantra, the dress was not form fitting. Instead, it gave the wearer a boyish look that complemented the short hair of the era. For her, that was proof that femininity was more than tits and ass.

From experience, she knew this dress would also show off her legs, shoulders, back, and hips. She had known plenty of men who fell head over heels for simpler dresses.

“I don’t think—” the clerk said.

Clara had lost interest in maintaining polite dialogue with this one. Her eyes flashed blue, and she dropped Evelyn’s card on the counter.

“You know what,” Clara said. “I’ll take it, along with that simple red dress in the corner, and that aviator hat over there. I want it all boxed and brought to my room.”

“Right away, madame,” the clerk said, after spotting the colour of the card. Well, that changed her tune…

At least Clara had something fancy to wear this evening. That red dress will do nicely!

* * * *

After a night of revelling in rich food and a lot of drink, Clara awoke in the middle of the massive bed. The last couple of outings, starting with Dora, had done wonders for her mood. While guilt lingered, it was freeing to be out of hiding, even if only long enough to take a peek over the trench.

After breakfast, Clara walked down to the old city. Clara passed by countless stores filled with wares to lure in high-end clientele. This city had turned into quite the tourist trap, but not by sacrificing its historical district. In the early forenoon, she found herself at a bistro near the water.

While waiting for breakfast, she searched for antique shops. If this city was so in touch with its history, then she might find items from her past.

To be clear, Clara was not searching for personal effects. Like most hunters, she embraced a nomadic lifestyle. Besides, everything she owned ended up at a vampire resort called The Grand. I’m sure they took good care of my things when I died…

There were several antique shops throughout the city, but she was not interested in expensive decorations and furniture. Clara wanted to find a shop dedicated to the eclectic, owned by someone who longed for the past. I want someone who collects items because they are special and must be cherished. Not for their resale value.

“Don’t you fit into that category?” Ethereal asked.

“What does that say about you three?” Clara pushed back.

After some calls, Clara learned there was such a place just outside of the old city. With a destination in mind, she was free to take in the view while eating her fresh pastry.

Today re-enforced how much she enjoyed hunting on her own. At night there was work to be done, but under the sun’s glory she was free to be herself and let go. She smiled when the server brought the bill, but he did not reciprocate. With her spirits riding high, she smiled while paying and walked out like she owned the joint.

* * * *

While her course appeared to be random, Clara had a destination in mind. She had been trained to avoid taking direct routes, to keep potential tails from guessing where she was headed. As a hunter who could operate on her own, such precautions were instinctual. Besides, the Valkyrie was on the Ten Most Wanted list, not to mention Ada could throw dozens of vampires her way, so it paid for a gal to be careful…

The walk was more vigorous than she had done in a while. Given the beautiful weather, she was sorely tempted to take flight, but those black wings would be a giveaway. So she walked on, even as the boutiques and tourists thinned out.

* * * *

After another hour, Clara stood in front of a building that faced an industrial yard that ran alongside the docks. The familiar scent of brine hung in the air, leaving her momentarily confused. She was nowhere near the ocean, but this oversized river fed into the Atlantic and the tides were noticeable here.

Most of the buildings along this stretch of road were dilapidated. Time and neglect had taken its toll on the neighbourhood. Given a few more years, Clara guessed some of these would collapse under their own weight. Someone probably bought the land with plans to turn this place into high-end condominiums but someone is not cooperating.

Even the building she faced appeared to be abandoned—a theory lent credence by the visible windows being covered in sepia-coloured newspaper. If Clara had not known better, she would have walked on by without giving this place a second thought. It’s a good thing I called ahead.

She moved around the stairs leading to the main level and found a door. Clara walked up to it, pulled on the handle, and walked inside.

Dead ahead there was a corner. Beyond, Clara found a set of stairs that went down. While they were worn, they were sturdy. At the foot of the steps there was another door that was right at home in an old gumshoe flick. This one featured white frosted glass, gold lettering, and there was light emanating from the other side.

“Calling the owner eccentric might be an understatement,” Clara said. “This should be fun.”

While the door was not locked, it could not open all the way, blocked by furniture stacked immediately to the side. In her mind, that was a good thing, because this shop was a collection, not a slick place of business.

Before her, there were stacks of furniture, tools, outdated office equipment, books, magazines, and even clothes. All of it was precariously stacked and accessible through several winding paths. This man lives to collect the past. I bet every piece has meaning for him.

If not for the naked bulbs shining the way, Clara would have considered turning back. Although facing so much clutter nearly had the same effect. To think I’d been worried about the mine collapsing back home…

One, fifteen, seven…

Clara faced the of that voice and picked up the sound of a heartbeat. However, these sounds were on separate bearings, which was odd and could mean she was dealing with one of them. This place is too low brow for a vampire.

“Allô?” Clara called out.

Without a reply, she moved deeper into the store while keeping an eye out for any signs of human activity. Along the way, Clara came across some amazing finds. There were stacks of typewriters, some manufactured in the nineteenth century. Although many would need to be repaired before typing again.

She found a wall covered with pigeon holes. Every one was filled with what looked to be light bulbs, but from experience she knew better…

“Vacuum tubes,” Clara said.

Thirty-seven, nineteen…

Clara broke through this maze and found her way to an opening. At the far end of the space, there was a counter covered in odds and ends. Atop a white cloth the innards of a radio were visible, including a front panel that glowed dimly. The red-and-white metal casing for the unit sat beside it.

The casing was unusual for the era. It was from a brand that advertised that customers could ‘Have a taste of the future for your home.’ It benefited them, because hunters had no trouble finding models they needed to get a word from The Tower. She suspected that metal construction meant that several units ended up rusting to oblivion.

Nine, nine, three…

“The radio actually works?” Clara asked.

“It does. To be honest, I’m not sure why it does,” a man replied in the local dialect. “You’re the one who called earlier?”

A gentleman appeared from out of the shadows of the back room. As he approached, the voice on the radio and the heartbeat converged. Now it made sense why the voice and heartbeats were not on the same bearing…the radio had been broadcasting while he was out back.

Assuming this place had been built in the sixties, this man looked to be older than the building itself. He had wild white hair and leathery skin that nearly glowed in the light. Despite his advanced age, his movements were smooth and precise. She noted his eyes had a striking colour of blue.

“I am,” she said. “I’m Clara.”

“Joseph,” the man replied. “I have to say that you have peculiar tastes.”

“I know what I love,” Clara replied.

The man stared at her, as though trying to ascertain if there was an underlying message in that reply. To cover her tracks, Clara increased her heart rate and appeared jittery, as though excited by this find. She was, but hunters never let the truth get in the way of putting on a show.

“Right,” Joseph said.

He then opened his mouth to add something but seemed to think better of it. There’s more to him than meets the eye.

“Where did you find it?” Clara asked.

“On a heap of discarded electronics sitting on the sidewalk,” Joseph said. “The city does an e-waste drive once or twice a year. So vultures, like myself, sift through what people discard for rare finds.”

“You said it shouldn’t work?” Clara asked.

“Someone more interested in the copper cut off the power cord,” Joseph said.

Clara suspected that cutting an electrical cord would not be a problem for a man like him. There was something else to the story, and she hoped the details were forthcoming.

“I replaced the cord with a donor when you called. The radio is locked onto one frequency, but I managed to turn the volume dial to power up the unit,” Joseph added.

Again, that did not explain his earlier statement. Like these old radios and televisions, she suspected Joseph needed time to warm up.

“Suddenly this thing started rhyming off numbers. Clear as day… Thing is, there are no AM radio stations in the area and nothing here picks up that signal,” Joseph said.

That explained his scepticism. People rarely found their way to his shop, even fewer asked for an obscure make and model. It did not help that it was already tuned to The Tower’s frequency. Clara hoped he would not ask too many questions.

“That is peculiar,” Clara said. “Do you mind if I have a look?”

“Go ahead,” Joseph answered from his side of the counter.

The casing showed few signs of corrosion. This radio must have been cherished in a past life. Nothing survives this close to salt-water for over a century…

“Did you notice the tubes are broken?” Clara asked, after spotting a couple that were dim, one even had the inside exposed to the air.

“I did,” Joseph said. “It doesn’t seem to bother this thing.”

While it was possible to stumble onto the steps needed to tune The Tower’s signal, she suspected the odds were better for someone getting away with murder. A hunter must have settled here after they were cut off…

She grabbed the volume and channel selection knobs, pulling them toward her until there came a faint click. That permitted her to turn the tuner freely. As it cycled away from the desired frequency, the voice surrendered to the white noise.

“There. You can change the channel now,” Clara said.

“What did you do?” Joseph asked.

“This model was always finicky,” Clara said.

“How would you know this?” Joseph asked.

It was time to come up with a convincing reason for having intimate knowledge on the inner workings of a radio from the twenties. It was improbable that anyone her age would have owned such a model. Some of the younger ones can’t even figure out a blower. Thank god I was never much of a dingle dangler…

“My grandmother had a model like this one in the house when I grew up,” Clara said. “She claimed there was nothing better for sound.”

She once caught a twenty-something talking about vacuum tubes and stereo equipment. Clara figured such excuses applied just as easily to radios and televisions. With luck, Joseph would just move on.

“What happened to your grandmother?” Joseph asked.

“She died in a house fire when I was a teen,” Clara replied.

As those words rolled off her tongue, her eyes began to water. That should shake him off my tail.

The man paused for a moment, worried that he unwittingly unleashed the waterworks. She had a feeling that this overt show of manipulation would have little effect. This one is lining me up for something.

“So how much?” Clara asked after sniffling to move beyond this impasse.

“Well with the repairs, re-assembly, and parts,” Joseph said, “I’d say an even thousand.”

Even when factoring in inflation this went well beyond the price of buying this thing new. Clara was not bothered, because someone else was footing the bill. Today is your lucky day.

“Seems reasonable,” Clara said.

Joseph grumbled, clearly beating himself up over losing an opportunity to extort more money out of her. Clara smiled and reached out for Evelyn’s card.

“Cash only,” Joseph said.

“Oh,” Clara replied. “I don’t have that much on me.”

He gave her the once over and said, “Well, I suppose we could come to an arrangement…”

Clara took several seconds before smiling. While subtle, it conveyed a receptiveness to the offer. She watched as his jaw dropped and his heart rose to a gallop. Great, I happened across the dirty old man’s version of a drugstore cowboy…

Clara closed her eyes and licked her lips. She may have come as her plain Jane self, but she still knew how to put on a show. She continued to monitor his heart rate and breathing, curious about how far she could push him.

To pique his interest, Clara moved her hands onto her hips and ran them against her sides. The move outlined her subtle hourglass figure. All the while his excitement grew, she could hear his arousal increasing, and she picked up on the scent of perspiration.

However, just as she was about to cup her breasts to define their shape, Clara picked up a blip. His heart had skipped a beat, followed by another. Since his heart could not take much more of this, she opened her eyes and regained a formal posture.

“Mon cher,” Clara said. “While tempting, I know your heart is not up to the task.”

“Oh,” Joseph said, in a muted tone.

The man was literally deflating before her eyes.

“Is there a cash—” Clara said.

She suspected Joseph would reconsider his position with that question. Clara might have been easy on the price, but she was not that desperate for a discount. I doubt he’d risk an easy sale just to cop a feel.

“You can transfer the funds…” Joseph said in defeat. “The price goes up twenty percent.”

Clara chuckled before saying, “Make it twenty-five, and have it packaged for shipping.”

“Deal,” Joseph said.

He would have been a fool to say no.

CHAPTER 5

ANGEL’S WAKE

Clara was less than five hours away from her meeting place with Evelyn but had over a week to get there. That left her with ample time to hunt. That party at the pub had been a lot of fun, a reminder of what she had been missing by not taking an active role.

Building alliances, finding her way back to The Tower and dealing with Ada could wait. Life was like an in-basket. No matter how much work she put in, the pile always got bigger.

Occasionally it proved to be cathartic to toss it all into a fire and walk away. For Clara, hunting had such an effect on her. She was free to shine a bright light on the dark corners of the world and it made life safer for those who knew nothing of things that went bump in the night.

To unwind, Clara ran a hot bath and turned on the jets. While an unfamiliar experience, she fell in love with the combination of heat, pressure, and bubbles. If only it weren’t so loud.

With wings unfurled, she sank into the water and let the heat and bubbles work their magic. For the first time in weeks, all was quiet on the Western Front. I wonder if being in my natural form put the sisters on mute?

Clara luxuriated in that silence until her phone sent pulses through the metal frame of the tub.

“I wonder who that could be,” Clara said grimly.

The answer was obvious, and unexpectedly her heart raced in anticipation. Still, another part of her wanted it to be someone else. She noticed there was a notification and, after unlocking her phone, confirmed the details. I’d take a message from Evelyn over that lawyer any day.

While her deepest desires remained fixed on Elizabeth, that empty conversation window taunted her still. It was a vicious cycle: write, hesitate, and delete in frustration. For someone who went to war against a pack of werewolves, this was a bizarre hill to die on.

Clara sighed in frustration. At least she had a distraction tonight to keep from running aground on the shores of guilt. She clicked on the conversation to see what Evelyn had to say.

Evelyn: You’ve been naughty!

A creeping smile overtook Clara’s neutral features. If this was the worst the biscuit had to say about her spending spree, then she was free and clear. However, it did not hurt to assume there was an ulterior motive.

Clara: Thanks! Totally worth it! You’ll love the dress.

Evelyn: Oh? Do tell?

Clara: No. You’ll have to wait and see. We’ll be two Shebas going out to a clip-joint after singing their declarations of independence.

Clara was certain Evelyn would get the nuances of that message. However, slang and expressions evolved quickly these days. Sayings that were all the rage in her day were relegated to black-and-white flicks on the silver screen. It’s a chore to keep up with what the youths are saying…

Evelyn: It’s a date!

The exchange certainly had Clara wondering if the biscuit was being genuine. Their last conversation led her straight to that pub. However, no matter how much she desired to break free from Evelyn, Clara needed her to move forward. That Evelyn is fun and full of life is not helping matters…

“Life is never a straight path,” Clara said.

Her life involved working through one tangled mess after another. The Tower aimed to push the acolytes to the brink of insanity. Hunting was a perpetual meat grinder of danger wrapped up as a thrill and adventure.

It was ironic that her stint in Heaven had been a torturous bore. After being barred from returning, Clara thought it fitting to settle down with a great gal and live a normal life. To be honest, that choice tasted like a heaping bowl full of ash and dust.

Evelyn was wild, unpredictable, and perfectly imperfect. For one moment in her life Clara had experienced pure and utter bliss by putting her faith in someone else. Just a fragment of the memory from that moment was enough to warm her berry patch, and that said a lot about how vivid the imagery was. If only my guilt would subside…

“Fuck this,” Clara said.

She lifted one of her silky-smooth gams out of the water, lined up the camera and took the shot. The glass of wine left in the background would give the shot a bit of class, but she doubted such detail would matter to the recipient.

Clara was tempted to send something more provocative but worried the message would get intercepted. She had no desire for her black wings to make rounds through the internet again. This less risqué version would do. Besides, Evelyn could stand to be teased.

Evelyn: That’s hot!

Clara: You like?

Evelyn: I love it!

It surprised Clara that she did not receive a picture in return, but Evelyn might have been busy. For all she knew, the vampire had just finished sending a lover into one of her famous sex-induced stupors.

The imagery that came from that thought got under her skin. Her wet thumbs went white from pressing against the screen, which popped the phone from her hands and sent it plopping into the water. As her eyes glowed blue, Sparky laughed maniacally.

“Horsefeathers,” Clara swore.

That emotional lapse was highlighting her vulnerability. Clara buried the voice, banishing Sparky to the deepest recesses of her mind. Once centred, she reached for her phone, and shook it vigorously. Fortunately, there was no damage, but it would take a bit before she could use a charging port.

“I wonder if a blow dryer would work?” Clara mused.

She swiped her screen and noticed a new notification. On instinct she tapped on the icon and was presented with a high-resolution video complete with audio. Now I know why it took her so long.

Evelyn was in a dark room, with her legs spread apart over silk sheets. Dead centre of the shot there was a large pink vibrator. It’s clear that she’s mastered that thing.

After watching for a couple of minutes with her jaw agape, Clara figured a reply was needed. I’ll have to get back to this video later…when I have more time to appreciate it…

“Perfectly imperfect,” Clara said and realised that it was far too hot for her to stay in the tub.

Clara: Wow! Well played.

Evelyn: All thanks to you.

* * * *

While she was sure Evelyn would have appreciated a video in return, Clara opted to steer the conversation toward more pressing matters.

The first order of business was to ship her things and have the radio studied. As expected, Evelyn had contacts who could help disassemble and reverse-engineer unusual electronics. The device was an antique, and Clara needed a backup. She also sought a solution that did not require her to be ghoulish by searching through estate sales.

Her second priority was to check if this biscuit had other missions lined up. While it was said that the written word carried no tone, Evelyn’s reply hinted she was hurt by the veiled insinuation. Still, she might just be fucking with me.

Either way, the answer was blunt. She knew of nothing going on in that area but would reach out if something came up.

That was the trouble with hunting. There was always something going on, especially if the likes of them were involved. Alas, hunters only caught wind of it once the situation got out of hand. She often had to put her life on the line just to clean up the mess someone else left behind by things that went bump in the night.

“That’s how I met Evelyn,” Clara said. “She thanked me for tying up a loose end she’d been dispatched to clean. As a reward, she let me live.”

As was her habit, the news droned on in the background, while she disassembled a pistol on a white towel. I better leave a healthy tip.

Clara could do this with her eyes closed, since weapons maintenance was practically instinctual. I remember feeling restless when I skipped the routine to spend more time with Elizabeth.

Tonight. Police are calling it a massacre…

Clara looked up at the screen while she ran a bristled brush through the barrel. The video was focused on a well-dressed man with an oversized microphone. In the background, there were a half-a-dozen patrol cars bathing the pub’s exterior in red-and-blue light.

“Is this a rerun?” Clara asked with a furrowed brow.

There was no way so many bodies could have gone unnoticed for so long. Doubly so when the bartender and his staff made it out alive…

The pub opened for lunch, so staff would get there early to prepare for a busy day. Clara had not been subtle in subduing this gaggle of vampires and the scene served as a testament to her brutality and carnage.

Authorities believe these crimes are related to the winged…

The last part caused her to straighten out her back. Clara had been travelling as her plain Jane persona. She had gone out of the way to fly under the radar. Why go through all that trouble, if they could so easily find her out?

“How?” Clara asked.

Angels blended in with the population. Their fingerprints morphed with every touch. Their body odour varied from person to person, because people were more likely to trust someone who evoked pleasant memories. Fallen angels also had invisible wings, but Sparky burned away that illusion.

How would they know she was involved? Even if the pub was covered in surveillance, Clara would have appeared on video as her plain Jane self. In addition, that electrical bolt should have fried anything attached to that panel. Hecate had gone on for centuries unnoticed while using that persona, but suddenly everyone knew?

Should we be concerned that this is the start of another rampage?

Clara focused on the anchorwoman who asked the question. It was subtle, but those eyes were flowing from left to right… Reading from a script!

Police are not willing to comment at this juncture, but the fire…

Clara stopped cold after hearing that word, which introduced a segment on the winery. They claimed an inferno had rendered the vineyard to ash, but Clara was not buying any of it. For one, the order of events differed from reality. She also knew that minus a rotten door, she left that place no worse for wear. Even Sister Maria was calm when I left.

This newscast reminded her of looking at herself in a funhouse mirror, the ones that distorted how she appeared in reality. Clara was not accustomed to dealing with anxiety, but her chest tightening and an associated drop in blood pressure gave her reason to worry. That’s distressing.

“We almost got her,” Silver said.

“Yes!” Sparky shouted.

“They are following in my—” Clara faltered.

“Quiet. She can hear us,” Ethereal warned.

Clara closed her eyes and focused until her heart rate settled. After several deep breaths, it was back to where it belonged, but the sisters continued to whisper in the background.

In other news, the body of a female in her early forties was found earlier today…

Clara fought against the wave of nausea as her heart rate dropped like a stone. She nearly fainted, which was unheard of for a seasoned hunter. This newscast made no sense, the vineyard and her time with the librarian had all been done in disguise. Even when allowing for coincidence, these events were also being reported out of sequence.

“Unless…” Clara said.

These created a pattern, one that made it appear like she was on another rampage. Law enforcement would be able use the growing threat to request additional resources to find her.

“Head Smashed In…” Clara added.

She was referring to a buffalo jump she visited in the early twenties. Clara had been in the area and given her next connection, she had the time. The site turned out to be nothing more than a natural cliff. A place where the local tribes exploited the herd mentality of the buffalo to drive them off the edge.

Whoever was pulling the strings had the same goal. They wanted to force Clara out into the open and send her running blindly into a trap. So far she was ahead of the storm, but the seas were becoming treacherous.

“I could go to ground and wait them out,” Clara said. “Or perhaps it is time for misdirection.”

Both options had merit and came with their share of risks. She knew that those who wielded this type of power rarely made an outward show of force. I must have kicked up a hornet’s nest.

The phone on her table vibrated, and she inadvertently dropped the barrel she had been brushing for the past ten minutes. Annoyed, Clara reached for her phone, and learned the notification came from her secure account.

Evelyn: Are you watching the news? Please tell me you’re seeing this!

Clara: It’s the top news story right now.

Evelyn: I’m so sorry!

Clara: Why? You had no way of knowing that sending me in there would unleash a shitstorm.

Evelyn: What now?

That was a tough question, one Clara lacked the situational awareness to answer. She had plenty of options, but they were all reactionary. What she needed was to get enough information to make a move and get ahead of this. At least there was someone she could turn to for help.

Clara: We need to meet. Soon.

Evelyn: No details.

That was an excellent point, too much coordination might put them at risk. At this point it was safer to assume their opponent knew more than they did. Besides, she had to check up on something before leaving this city.

Like their first conversation, Evelyn sent a map of the destination. The marker was near the city Clara had been aiming for. If she had been planning this operation, that spot would be both secluded and heavily surveilled. If this place gets burned, nothing would lead back to them…so make sure I don’t pick up a tail.

* * * *

At first light, Clara was back at the cemetery. Before leaving the hotel, the bulk of her things had been picked up by a courier. That left her with little more than a light pack filled with the basics: pistols, ammunition, basic first-aid kit, a knife, lockpicking tools and some rope. A gal has to accessorise.

Outwardly there was nothing peculiar about the cemetery. However, she noticed something peculiar to her last visit. It was a minor detail, even for a hunter, but one that pointed to a potential infestation.

She was back to the spot where she almost tripped. Her eyes followed the straight line until they met a crypt. The depression was too long to be a grave, and given how old this cemetery was, she doubted this was a buried utility line.

In fact, the gravestones in this area were old enough that the carved lettering had faded. Years of rain, snow, and wind had smoothed out their surfaces, rendering several ineligible. I’d imagine there’d be a public uproar if a utility company tried to cut through a cemetery.

She followed the indentation, which was demarcated by thick blades of grass, until she reached the foundations of a crypt. After an all-around search, Clara concluded that the dip did not go on beyond that point. Well, that strikes off human construction, given there are graves in the way.

Clara circled around to a set of doors and tried the handle, but they did not budge. Before going any further, Clara backed away for an encompassing view and spotted some light filtering through the seams of the doors. Well, that’s telling.

The first clue was the void of light between the doors. That meant someone had barred the door from the other side. Given there was a support column between these doors, she guessed that forcing these open would draw unnecessary attention.

The last clue was the itself. Given the intensity, she doubted it was electric, and confirming her hunch would be relatively easy. Alas, there was no obvious way to get onto the roof.

“Time to fly,” Clara said.

Clara confirmed she was alone and shed away her plain Jane persona. Within a minute, she took to the air but maintained a minimalistic flight path to avoid being spotted.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Clara said.

From up here she confirmed the door was in fact barred from the inside. Since the dead were not known for locking up after themselves, Clara concluded that someone or something had done it.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Clara said.

A closer look at the skylight revealed it had not been tampered with. She pulled out the knife and worked the blade along the edges to cut away the sealant. She then used the blade as a wedge and lifted the pane free from its seat. It would have been too heavy for her as a human, and even now she strained, but she ended up with enough space to slip through the opening.

She dropped into the crypt. While the crossbar was makeshift, it was sturdy enough to deter an attempted break and enter. On the nearest coffin, she found a key that she was sure would fit the locks on the doors.

“A secure way in and out,” Clara mused.

She searched the crypt to find a gaping hole in the flooring where the dip ended. This was not unexpected, but she would have preferred to find nothing at all.

“Sometimes I hate being right,” Clara said before evacuating all the air from her lungs.

* * * *

Clara had a rather long and grim history with Homo Stringa, colloquially known as ghouls. It was a ghoul who interfered with her parents’ remains. It was ghouls who captured Edith, Clara’s former hunting partner, and left her to die slowly from an infection. Most recently, she had been taken captive by government agents and those soulless bastards used a ghoul to interrogate her.

It seemed she would be upping her kill count. She slipped into the makeshift tunnel but held in position long enough for details of the tunnel to form.

Ghouls were carrion eaters, and not known for their intellect, creativity, or aggressiveness. While they could emulate human behaviour and speech, most who encountered a ghoul knew that something was off. It did not help that ghouls were unusually gangly. People choose to ignore the unexplainable, because they have no interest in knowing the dangers that surround them.

These things were basically oversized gophers with a taste for decaying flesh. They often tunnelled in from one grave to the next. However, these makeshift tunnels were cramped and hunters risked being buried alive if they made one wrong move.

However, this tunnel went deeper into the ground than expected, deeper than the graves to avoid detection. All the engineering and planning needed for this was beyond what they were capable of.

“I must have gone through the looking glass,” Clara whispered.

No matter, her mission remained the same. Clara moved deeper into this oversized rabbit hole, curious about where it led. I’m willing to bet there won’t be a white rabbit with a pocket watch…unless he’s the main course…

* * * *

Clara walked around normally after reaching the main line. The average ghoul was at least two heads taller, so the clearance would no longer be an issue.

The main line went off in two directions. It was fortunate Clara had formed a mental map of the cemetery prior to her incursion. Turning south would bring her under the wall surrounding the cemetery and toward an adjacent highway. Whereas the north branch led deeper into the graveyard. This was presumably where the ghouls would be.

She headed north. They must have spent years building and expanding the network. Given what she knew of them, ghouls did not expend the effort without a good reason.

This tunnel reminded her of the mine she visited last week. As she ventured deeper into the complex, a question surfaced to the forefront of her mind.

“Where did they get all of this building material?” Clara asked.

Wood, nails, and tools were needed to make these arches, and none of it was cheap. That amount of material disappearing from a worksite would get noticed and might require heavy machinery to move. It’s not like they have access to a wood mill down here.

These revelations implied she was dealing with atypical ghouls. As a precaution, she withdrew her pistols from her jacket and disengaged the safety catches. This gal is not about to get caught unawares by ghouls.

The first signs of activity were repetitive chopping sounds in the distance. It reminded her of visiting the butcher as a child. Specifically, how that big knife could cut through meat and bone in one strike. The sound was similar, but less ordered, as though lacking the years of practice. Since when are ghouls interested in culinary delights?

She slowed her advance and focused until the sounds changed in pitch. Ghouls were not much faster than humans, but she needed to avoid their stares. Their glowing eyes were a weapon unto themselves, since getting caught in their gaze would drain the victim of their thoughts and memories. It was said their stare would eventually cause the victims to forget how to breathe.

Clara experienced a taste of that as a child and woke up the next day unaware of what happened. Luck had been on her side, otherwise the ghoul might have feasted on two that night. Instead, she stabbed the creature repeatedly until she extinguished that glow.

“At least bullets work,” Clara said, which in this state sounded like an insect’s chirp.

Since her first chirp failed to arouse suspicions, it was time to be more brazen. Clara wanted to draw one or two out into the open before reaching the main nest. Again, there was nothing, no sounds, not even the butchering of meat… Too quiet!

“Wait a minute—” Clara chirped.

From the corner of her eyes there came an orange glow. The ghouls must have leveraged the network of tunnels to their advantage and had her surrounded. She turned toward the target with glowing eyes and squeezed the trigger.

The hammer moved forward in slow motion—first, air escaped from the barrel, followed by the bullet. A moment later the oxygen-rich atmosphere ignited the unspent propellant, creating the distinctive flash of gunfire. While the effect was something to behold, she wished it had been faster.

Clara bit the inside of her cheek to maintain focus and fired another round from her other pistol. Within a fraction of a second, two bullets were travelling toward her first target.

She continued on with her turn and caught sight of another ghoul exiting a tunnel beside her. Without hesitation, she fired two more projectiles. Directly behind her there was—wait. While it had the build of a ghoul, the eyes were distinctly human. It even has hair…

With time and distance on her side, she continued along her arc and engaged another two. She was impressed—these ghouls came at her from four directions. Had she been human, she might not have survived first contact.

From an observer’s point of view, they would have seen her momentarily shimmer out of sight. Then came eight flashes of light followed by the sound of automatic gunfire. Some might have missed the black ichor that sprayed the tunnel walls but would not have missed the bodies drop almost instantaneously.

The anomaly stared in disbelief. Clara smirked and focused on the target before her. She even caught its heart rate transitioning from a steady resting rate to a full gallop.

Whatever this thing was, it had ashen skin, claws, a mouth full of jagged teeth, a sharp nose, and hair. Homo Stringa were always bald, so their appearance did not jive with her understanding of their species.

It had the butcher knife in its hand, and the blood coating the blade was red. Since a ghoul’s blood was black, this one must have been busy with a corpse up ahead. It screeched and lunged forward, whereas most ghouls would flee. It swung the knife where Clara had been, but she was already somewhere else.

It screeched again, and this time it was joined by another behind her. Clara backed herself into a wall and spotted another ghoul with similar features. This one had beady eyes and human teeth.

“Wait!” Clara exclaimed. “This one’s wearing a caretaker’s uniform.”

It wore a uniform that bore the cemetery’s crest, and it was well maintained. When Clara connected the dots, she realised why they had been tunnelling for so long. They essentially own this place.

This left her with a dilemma. Clara had sworn never to kill a human, and to date had never directly done so. Now she faced creatures that straddled the line between monster and human. Her hesitation turned into an opportunity for them. The butcher threw his blade, slicing Clara’s forearm, which left a rivulet of golden blood running to her hand.

“Horsefeathers,” Clara swore.

Whatever these things were, Clara decided they were human enough to give them a chance. She rolled out into the open area before holstering her pistols. The one with beady eyes caught the scent of her blood, which sent it into a frenzy. That behaviour, besides landing a blow, left her fuming. She channelled Sparky until her eyes glowed bright blue. That development gave them a reason to rethink their course of action.

Alas, they recovered and charged as a pair. Neither were inclined to let fresh meat walk out of here… Not after decimating their numbers.

“ENOUGH!” Clara’s voice boomed, which caused loose dirt and rock to break free from the walls.

When that did nothing to deter them, she pointed a finger at the nearest one and unleashed the bolt of fury. The beam cut through the first and struck the other in the chest. As the smell of ozone permeated the air, both writhed until the beam cut out. Only then did they fall, leaving behind smouldering heaps of darkened flesh and ash.

“Time for answers,” Clara said.

* * * *

Clara’s list of questions increased exponentially upon reaching what could be best described as the kitchen. It was an expansive space littered with bones. While many were human, others were clearly animal in origin. She blocked from her mind the sight of remains that must have belonged to children and infants. I can’t afford to deal with that right now.

Another peculiarity was the sign of cooking fires. Ghouls ate meat right off the bone, so making soup or a broth did not align with expected behaviour.

Her lectures at The Tower never delved into the reproductive cycle of ghouls. Hunters were expected to kill, not observe these inhuman creatures in their natural habitats. The signs of offspring with both ghoul and human features, however, forced her to wonder what kind of shit she just stepped in. Hold it together.

Searching the bodies came up empty. However, kicking around a pile of bones brought a large brass key to the surface, which was one hunters used to access a local weapons cache. They were all alike, featuring a thick-gauge brass stem, teeth along three axes, and a double-helix structure that made up the top.

The implications of this discovery were grave. The keys were not meant to be removed from the churches that housed the caches.

“How did this key get here?” Clara asked but honestly did not want an answer.

There came faint whimpering in the distance and a path that led up to the was well worn. She followed the trail until it broke through the foundations of a nearby building. I must have travelled under the street to get here.

She was immediately greeted by a powerful scent. It was a mixture of rotting meat, excrement, and blood. The odour was so strong that Clara curled her nose. She quickly regained control of her senses but could not block it out entirely from her mind.

The space was filled with the building’s support pylons and featured a sandy floor. Neither of those explained the stench, that is until she manoeuvred around a column to get a better view.

Clara counted five in all. She desperately wanted to say these were the heads and torsos of several mannequins. That wouldn’t explain what I encountered back there…

As she approached, the odours grew more pungent. Clara had the answer, and it banished her heart to the pit of her stomach. As bile rose to her throat, she closed her eyes. This situation needed to be dealt with, no matter how repugnant it was.

At one time, these must have been women. That is until their limbs had been hacked off and their wounds cauterised. Their eyes had been sewn shut, and their teeth had rotted away from consuming a mostly liquid diet. That explains the fires…my god…those fucking monsters!

“Oh god, why?” Clara asked, fighting to keep her emotions at bay long enough to get through this.

The reasons were frighteningly obvious. Two of the women must have died midway through a pregnancy. Their bellies had been cut open to get at the contents within. The remains of infants in their kitchen served as a potent clue to this sickening truth. If they thought I was being hard on them before…

There were vials that once contained animal antibiotics, littering the ground around these women. These ghouls were using the women as a breeding farm. To add insult to injury, their meat was so tainted after all this abuse, that the ghouls dared not touch them.

When she approached the last one on the right, it moved. The heartbeat was so faint she initially dismissed it as being from a rodent.

“Di Mi!” Clara exclaimed, her own heart rate well in the red.

She kneeled beside what remained of the woman and touched her lightly along the shoulder. The woman responded violently, but her warm and soothing touch must have evoked memories of happier times, and she calmed down.

Clara hummed softly, the melody of a lullaby from her youth. All the while she took a pistol from out of her jacket and maintained a soft caress. That distorted face appeared to smile as Clara squeezed the trigger and covered the adjacent wall in a pink mist.

As a precaution she did the same for the others. This horror was too much, even for her. She knelt and cried, something she could not remember doing since she was a child. I’m not okay… This is NOT okay…

While an act of mercy, Clara had taken her first human life…

CHAPTER 6

THE OZ SOLUTION

The last thing Clara wanted to do before leaving these accursed tunnels was to take pictures. However, she needed to document the scene before reaching out for more information. She hoped someone within Evelyn’s network would confirm if this was an isolated incident… It better fucking well be.

A century ago, one of them had learned how to domesticate ghouls. She actually found a couple living in a Parisian home. They would feed on the poor souls they lured inside. Two years ago, ghouls were integrated into government-run teams and were assigned to interrogate uncooperative prisoners.

“I have no clue what this was supposed to herald,” Clara said.

Very little fazed Clara normally; beheading her childhood crush and working as a nurse during the Great War did much to blunt the emotions she had. It worked for a hunter, but she could not help but wonder if her true self was locked away in a box before tossing the key into the deepest ocean. Even this shook me to the core…

Things that went bump in the night once played by certain rules. That guidebook had clearly been set aflame, and that made her blood boil. Fortunately, she had a way of channelling all her pent-up anger.

She tossed the ghouls into a pile and hacked off the inhuman elements. The constabulary could not suspect that these crimes were committed by something other than humans. As a precaution, she tossed all of that gore into a bag, which she planned to dispose of a long way off from here.

To further distort the evidence, she channelled all that rage into the pile. Ozone filled her lungs, and the bodies were set aflame, erasing their true natures with fire. Now it was time to move onto her grand finale.

“The world needs to know about this place,” Clara said.

* * * *

It turned out that this graveyard had most of what she needed. The maintenance van on the premises would do, and the fertiliser they had on hand was coarse but suitable. With some effort the hazmat barrels in the shed had been emptied and repurposed. She then secured them to the back of the vehicle using ratchet straps. We certainly don’t want to tempt fate.

After a search on her mobile, she visited an unattended gas station, hardware store, and electronics shop, along with a hunting and fishing outfitter. Firearms might have been a challenge to acquire, but the ammunition was not… It’s also exactly what I need.

“Time to make the news,” Clara said once all the pieces were in place.

For effect, the van was parked right over the main chamber. Clara stepped out of the van with her pistols drawn. A quick scan of her surroundings confirmed the cemetery was deserted. Time to leave!

“Horsefeathers!” Clara swore.

Nearer to the main gate, Clara spotted a funeral procession that was about to roll onto the grounds. She opened fire, aiming for the hearse’s engine block. The driver slammed the brakes, opened the door, and rolled out of the still moving vehicle. She shifted her arcs of fire to shoot over the heads of people exiting their cars to motivate them.

With everyone from the funeral procession behind the wall, she was free to move on to the next part of her plan. Clara headed toward the exit while slowing down time. In an accelerated state, Clara was capable of great bursts of speed, appearing and disappearing from sight as desired.

She confirmed the vehicles inside the perimeter were empty while moving along the procession. I don’t want an infant left tethered to their seat because the parents were too panicked to act.

While the chaos she was about to unleash would appear to be an act of domestic terrorism, she was not worried about collateral damage; the tall stone wall surrounding the cemetery would shield people from harm.

Once safely nestled away in the adjacent woods, she synchronised with time. Clara triggered the detonator. It was easy, all she had to do was press and hold ‘1’ on the burner phone she purchased along with the rest of the supplies. She caught the familiar tones of the phone ringing, once, twice, and…

A fireball appeared over the wall, followed shortly thereafter by the sound. The powerful blast sent the hearse’s front end into the air before gravity slammed it back to the ground hard.

The blast had no immediate effect on the crowd. Most were oblivious, like a gaggle of lollygagging geese, until debris rained down on them. That’s when it turned real for them, with several attempting to back their cars out of the chaos, but they succeeded only in ramming into the cars behind them.

Fortunately, emergency vehicles were already on the way. If everything worked out according to plan, the newly formed crater would open up into the cave complex. From there, investigators would make a gruesome discovery.

Before leaving all that chaos behind, she zapped her burner phone to fuse the electronic components. When satisfied, she shattered the phone and melted the SIM card. She then tossed the phone components and viscera into random trash bins along the way to her stop.

Last night someone had been in control of the narrative. With any luck, the Valkyrie would appear to be in two places at once.

“Unless they try to bury this story…” Clara said grimly.

Clara was not thrilled about setting off a blast in broad daylight, but she needed witnesses. At night, the authorities could have claimed the blast had been caused by a natural-gas leak. As executed, they would need to spin away the counternarratives brought forward by witnesses. You’d think it’d be a challenge to discredit dozens of eyewitnesses…

* * * *

Clara leaned against the statue of the country’s first homegrown Cardinal, whose hollow eyes were fixed at an imposing cathedral. At night the facade was illuminated, the lights directed toward the intricate stained-glass window. As her plain Jane self, no one paid her any notice, but the buskers in the square also helped. I can put up with the sisters long enough to avoid suspicion.

“Awww. She’s beginning to like us,” Sparky teased.

“Yeah…no,” Clara replied.

It was doubtful the constabulary were actively looking for her. Witnesses would have been too panicked to provide viable descriptions. Besides, brown hair, pale skin, and unremarkable features were rather common in these parts. She only needed a minute to cross the street and enter the house of God.

In her youth, the church had been a substantial of comfort. However, the more light that was shed on the true nature of her order, the more her faith waned. I feel as though I’ve been cast adrift on a sea of uncertainty…

“What you call faith, others would call idolatry,” someone nearby said.

Clara turned to have a better look at the speaker, but his face was concealed by the sunlight. This was the second time she encountered this man, the first of which gave her the idea of reconnecting with her past.

“Maintaining faith is a challenge when one has seen the truth,” Clara countered.

Even through the blinding light, Clara made out a smirk. She was not sure why, since nothing she said would get a laugh at a bar… No matter how drunk they were.

“Your pistols don’t benefit from faith, misplaced or otherwise. A god…” the man said.

Just like the last time, he disappeared and left her staring up at the blinding sun. At least he vanished with a few parting words of wisdom. If only she could gleam something useful from what he said.

Clara returned her attention to the cathedral and made her first step. Faith had nothing to do with what she would find inside, only truth.

She planned to address what had been said when she was in the right state of mind to absorb riddles, half-truths, and omissions. That usually happens when I’m in the mood to ram my head through a wall…

* * * *

Today, society echoed her own faith. These grand halls saw a fraction of the worshippers. Many of the faithful never stepped foot within these hallowed halls. For others, religion was like ordering à la carte at a restaurant. It’s Friday, but I’ll have the chicken, anyway. Oh! Can you swap out the fries or a salad? It’s lent you know…

The Ten Commandments and lessons drawn from the Bible were now mild suggestions. I think I’ll ignore adultery and embrace my covetous desire for thine neighbour’s wife.

Clara’s crises of faith stemmed from what she knew, not because she drifted away from the teachings of her church. Heaven was not as advertised and The Tower had concealed the truth from hunters about old gods and ghosts. Hunters were weapons, so Clara doubted it was an attempt to keep them safe. Someone didn’t want us hunting them.

“Ghouls, however…” Clara said.

Lesser monsters were open season even if their effect was difficult to quantify. Until recently, what harm had ghouls wrought on humans? Carrion eaters prevented the spread of diseases. For all she knew, it was hunters who brought about the Black Death by thinning out the ghoul population.

Clara dipped her fingers in the holy water and went through the motions. Upon opening her eyes, she walked past the mostly empty pews on her way to the altar. The entrance to a hunter cache is always near there.

Of course, the last time she was in this cathedral, the altar had been facing the other way. That was when ceremonies were conducted in Latin. Everyone was subservient to God…

Incense permeated the air, as did smoke from the candles. Only a few were in here praying; the rest were tourists, marvelling at the beauty within. This place is more of a tourist trap than a house of worship.

As she approached, a priest came out from the confessionals. Clara avoided his gaze, preferring to avoid him altogether. She had not showered nor changed since crawling out of those ghoul-infested tunnels. I didn’t even think of it…

Clara should have known better. As a hunter, she would never come to church dressed like this, unless it was a matter of life and death. While this loosely applied, a voice inside her head taunted her for this slight. I don’t have time for this.

The nearer she got to the altar the more the padre grew curious. This man was ancient, replete with silver hair, black-rimmed glasses, and an impeccable garb. Those blue eyes shined with experience, and Clara guessed he knew how to read people. While she was an expert at hiding her true intentions, he knew she was not here as a tourist, interested in a confession, or here to pray. Fuck, I’d be in there confessing for hours. How many Hail Marys would I have to do for fucking a vampire? So, what now?

Clara focused until time slowed to a crawl. At this level, she could not speak. Even uttering a simple word like ‘hi’ would take a minute of holding the note to make the first sound. I can’t stay in this state for long either.

From the padre’s point of view, the woman approaching the altar simply vanished into thin air. To further distract him, there came a breeze, followed by the door to the confessional slamming shut.

The priest’s jaw went slack. After remembering to breathe, he did an all-around search of the cathedral and came up empty. Instead of panic, he pulled out a black handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his glasses clean. It was easier to dismiss what he witnessed than ask uncomfortable questions.

By the time his glasses were back on his nose, Clara had already gone through a false door near the back wall. She was fortunate the mechanism to open the door was still marked with a double-helix. Well…that was easy.

Clara headed toward a room that did not show up on any blueprints or floor plans. These had been introduced by The Tower over the years and were key features of many cathedrals. Trusted members of the clergy ensured the existence of these rooms remained a secret.

The Tower made sure these contained everything a hunter would need. Within, she expected to find small quantities of local currency, along with gold and silver for trade. Another constant was an assortment of weapons, ammunition, rations, and medical supplies. Everything we need to take the war to our enemies.

Clara was not interested in pursuing the wares. Weapons today were superior to what she would find inside. The canned goods, likely surplused from the Great War, were not worth the risk… Unless I sell the botulism-laden cans to a hen coop! Gold, while shiny, would draw attention, whereas Evelyn’s credit card would go unnoticed.

It worried her that the key had been found outside the church. Something must have happened to whoever was entrusted with it and there was no one left to pass it on to.

Clara pushed on, following the foundations of the cathedral. The wall on her left held back the surrounding soil. At least that was true until she reached the bell tower. From there the vaulted hallway took a sharp turn and ran parallel along the façade. This hallway would eventually lead her to an exit on the other side of the cathedral.

She stopped at the dead centre of the corner, did a right turn as a soldier did in drill, and took what should have been seven paces. While that was true for male hunters, Clara always needed an additional half-step to reach the same point.

After making a left turn, Clara faced the flawless brick exterior wall, but she knew this was where she should be. She removed the key from her pocket and a door appeared dead ahead. These doors were always concealed, courtesy of the Georgians. I wonder what The Tower gave up for that tech?

She inserted the key into the lock and turned it until the locking mechanism made an audible sound. The door resisted her push, but with some elbow grease it gave way with a snap. Out of caution, she checked the frame and hinges. While corroded, there were no wires or obvious trigger mechanisms.

“Better than kicking in the door,” Clara said.

The electric lights inside turned on automatically to reveal the inner sanctum of a hunter’s hideout. She walked up to the threshold. Her eyes scanned the area for trip wires or other visible traps. Nothing…

A hunter’s cache was a combination of structure and consistency. The requirements for these spaces were tightly controlled. It was said the floor plan varied by only a few centimetres from one implementation to another. The reason for this precision was simple; hunters had to know the content intimately. You don’t want to rummage around for a first-aid kit when bleeding out.

“What happened here?” Clara asked herself.

She remembered watching a movie with Elizabeth shortly after falling to Earth. While the name escaped her, a pair of detectives were tracking down a madman. Captured on celluloid, it featured a room filled with scraps of paper and a wall covered in pictures, all of it linked with strings and pushpins. Whoever was holed up in here must have had the same interior decorator.

Items that were out of the ordinary included a small cot, kettle, and nightstand. Her nose was greeted by nothing more than the scent of dust. No one has been down here in a long while.

“Why would anyone live here?” Clara asked.

Sure, the space was ideal for a hideout. However, The Tower had safe houses, and in a city this size, there were plenty of hotels that never asked questions. Choosing to stay here long term bordered on paranoia. Look where the key ended up…

After moving into the centre of the room, she gazed upon the world map. Push pins were found throughout. Some differed in colour, but she quickly figured out the meaning for some. The blue ones denoted known gate points, while those in yellow indicated sites with caches like this one.

“I received cables from at least nine of those cities,” Clara said, referring to her query on which gates were active after the Terminus was attacked.

There were more than push pins covering the map, including pictures, newspaper clippings, and cables. It was the combination of all this information that shed light on what happened to hunters after they were cut off from The Tower.

“I knew her,” Clara said while looking over the picture of a hunter stationed in France. “She’s the one who relieved me at the surgical hospital after I ran into Drusilla.”

According to the attached article, she had been killed in a freak accident in the thirties. This was true for several other hunters. Some she knew, but most were too far removed from her time at The Tower to have met. This really shows how few of us there were…

The most chilling aspect of this map was finding her own portrait. A snapshot of her from a distance, taken from a place that had faded from memory. As judged by the style, it was taken the year she died.

The last pushpin put her in proximity to The Grand—the stop where she sent a cable to update other hunters on her progress before going after a most dangerous foe.

“They were tracking gates and hunters,” Clara said. “Wait… Were they tracking me as well? Why not the other hunters?”

There was coloured string throughout. Red dominated the map and crisscrossed the planet. The travels were extensive, matching up with countless locations that Clara had been to over the course of her lifetime. However, there were outliers.

“That’s where we found the tomb under that ziggurat,” Clara said.

There was a site in Mexico she was intimately familiar with. These tracks filled in holes in the timeline she formed in her head.

“That’s where they attacked the Terminus and sealed us off,” Clara said.

The destinations lined up perfectly, and that included the thread ending at The Grand.

“That’s where I died,” Clara said. “But that’s not where I was listed as missing.”

This meant they must have also been tracking vampires like Drusilla. It was astonishing to see how often our paths crossed without being aware of it… Well…I wasn’t aware of it.

“So what are these threads for?” Clara asked.

The royal-blue line often paralleled the one for Drusilla. In fact, the last twenty destinations to The Grand lined up perfectly.

“Except it goes on after Drusilla and I bought it,” Clara said. “Who could that be?”

Clara took several snapshots of the map and then the room itself. Behind a curtain she found crates filled with files and was certain they contained details of the information found on the map. This was a literal treasure trove of information and her heart raced at the thought of catching up on much of what she missed.

She sat on the cot and reached for the leather ledger on the nightstand. Before she could crack open the cover, there came a faint click followed by a high-pitched whine. She might have missed it as a human, but as an angel that sound became her world. Approximately every second the sound dropped in pitch.

“Six, five…” Clara counted. “What the fuck was the trigger?”

Clara wrapped her arms around her chest with the ledger next to her heart. She embraced the feeling of hopelessness and dread. She had no way of knowing if channelling Ethereal would work, but her odds were no better if she made a run for it. That’s how I’d have designed it.

While she was sure the door was not wired, something had triggered the trap. If not for the door, then—

The lights! The trap was set the moment the lights turned on.

“Four,” Clara said.

Those thoughts of meeting her fate helped her to transform. While she turned translucent, Clara did not dare open her eyes.

“Three,” Clara said.

The tone became audible. It probably served as a final warning to disarm the trap. I don’t have the time to search through this place looking for the disarming mechanism!

“Two,” Clara said.

The lights cut out, plunging her into utter darkness. She thought about Elizabeth, imagining herself back at their apartment.

“Look who needs us now,” Ethereal taunted.

“One,” Clara said.

There was a secondary click as the signal was sent to the charges. This was followed by something that sounded like artillery fire at close range. Next came blinding light as the contents of this room vaporised around her.

Clara had once been enveloped by a moving wall of water and remained unaffected in this form. This time there came a powerful push, followed by something reminiscent of uncontrolled freefall. Even with a brain wired for flight, her mind could not account for the rapid changes in pitch, roll, and yaw.

The surge in velocity soon caused her to black out entirely. The last thing she registered was screaming, unaware that she was the source.

* * * *

“Why can’t we leave—” Sparky whined.

“Shut it,” Ethereal snapped.

“We’re out of time,” Silver whispered.

Clara regained consciousness. Based on the ambient sunlight, she had been out for several hours. Silence was the first thing that registered in her mind. There was nothing more than the wind rolling over a field and leaves rustling through trees. I can’t hear any cars out in the distance.

Once she shook a few cobwebs loose from her mind, Clara realised there was a gaping hole in the wall, which afforded her a view of the outside world. Her eyes then focused on the blood splatter that surrounded her. That must have been some landing…

Her joints resisted every motion as she unwrapped her arms to free the ledger. It surprised her it was intact, considering the beating she took—the sight of which reminded her of what she lost when that trap tried to drop a church on her head. You’d think I was a witch…

The map and all those files that had been carefully archived over what appeared to be decades were all gone. Of course, the intent had been for her to suffer the same fate, and she supposed she was lucky to be here. I hope this ledger is worth it…

“Am I safe?” Clara asked, her throat bloody and hoarse.

The silence was a good sign, but that hole through the wall was brought on by a high-velocity impact. Clara may have been stronger and faster than a human, but her bones could still shatter… Could?

A shift in position made her nervous system come alight. She clenched her jaw and pushed through the discomfort to get herself into a sitting position. It was obvious from this vantage point that her left leg was visibly swollen. However, most of the rips and tears found on her clothing did not correspond to a wound. They were all bordered with dried blood.

“I must have—” Clara winced.

Several of the wounds must have healed while she was out cold. It was as though her subconscious prioritised repairs. It’s a useful feature to have, so long as I’m away from danger.

“You’re welcome,” Silver said in a flat tone.

Clara ignored the jab, her mind naturally focused on kicking herself over getting caught in that trap. It was likely that several suffered the consequences of her carelessness. Right now, the place is probably swarming with police and emergency services.

This bloody and very public disaster might actually distract people from the events at the graveyard. The discovery of several mutilated women would then be relegated to a couple of lines near the end of the evening news. How could I have been so stupid?

“I’ve rarely seen a god regret their actions,” Eleanor said.

Clara tried to align herself with the speaker, but the pain was too much.

“Horsefeathers,” Clara swore.

After the glow in her eyes faded, she tried a few minor shoulder motions. The pain indicated there was something interfering with her movements. That’s going to be a bitch to remove.

“I can help,” Eleanor said.

Clara narrowed her eyes. A lot of thoughts were passing through her mind, but paranoia was at the high-water mark. Is this a trick?

“I can understand you,” Eleanor said. “In your weakened state you are broadcasting your thoughts. Like fireworks in the night sky.”

“You’ve seen fireworks?” Clara asked.

“Yes. People get reckless around them,” Eleanor said bluntly.

Sometimes getting an answer made it worse. At least Eleanor’s ability to read her mind was temporary. What bothered her most was how easily all those years of training and discipline failed her.

“So we never needed to communicate verbally?” Clara asked.

“Of course not.”

“Why—”

“One does not waste a goddess’ time,” Eleanor replied.

As the sisters retched in horror at Clara being called a goddess, Eleanor approached and kneeled into the mud, but that white dress was unaffected. Her clothes did not interact with the physical world.

“Do you want me to remove it?” Eleanor confirmed.

“Wait one—” Clara squeaked. After finding a wooden dowel, she readied herself by biting down on it. Do it!

Eleanor grabbed the oversized splinter. Once freed, a glob of golden blood came with it. While the pain proved to be temporary, her eyes glowed, and she snapped the dowel in three.

“Fuck!”

To stem the bleeding, Clara applied pressure to the wound. How much blood have I lost?

Eleanor chuckled and brought the splinter closer so Clara could have a look. Both ends were coated in golden blood that was already turning crimson. That was how the old gods remained hidden. Any evidence they left behind became indistinguishable from that of a human.

“What…funny?” Clara asked.

“The imagery that passed through your mind did not correspond with a fuck,” Eleanor said.

She was tempted to say that fuck was a very versatile word, but she cracked a smile. Given time, Clara would heal up enough to walk. The sunlight is doing me wonders.

Angels were creatures of the light of God. While it was not ambrosia, direct sunlight helped her to heal. I’d have been fucked had this been winter…

It was unfortunate her backpack did not survive the trip. It had everything a gal fighting the forces of evil needed. At least I still have my emergency wallet…

Although, wallet was a bit of a misnomer. As a precaution, Clara had sewn in a few cards, including a SIM card, and hard currency into her pants for emergencies. I’m lucky my pants are baggy…

“How—” Clara said.

“Why am I here?” Eleanor confirmed.

Clara nodded, unwilling to push her vocal cords more than necessary. I need to focus on my mobility first.

“I sensed you were in distress,” Eleanor said. “So, I felt it was appropriate to bring you this.”

Eleanor reached into thin air and pulled out an amphora. The sight of the golden glow was as familiar to her as was the vessel. This was the amphora that Hecate conjured up, one that was perpetually filled to the brim with ambrosia. In fact, this was one that should have been stowed away in an abandoned crypt.

She drank straight from the amphora. Now is not the time for etiquette. As a human, a single drop had given her the most powerful orgasm of her life. In her current state, it barely took the edge off. The infusion of ambrosia quelled the fire in her throat, and within minutes a warming sensation enveloped her leg.

“How did you find this?” Clara said after taking a deep breath.

“Nothing is hidden from the dead,” Eleanor said.

“Do you have any thoughts on where I can hide this?” Clara asked.

“You have no wish to keep it near you?” Eleanor asked.

The last time it was in her possession, Clara felt drawn to it, compelled to have just another glass. That was the reason she stashed it. Hecate used to drink the stuff by the gallon, and Clara worried it might have addictive qualities. Clara had no desire to find out. Why would I want to end up like her?

“Save us the holier-than-thou attitude,” Silver retorted.

“Did someone say ambrosia?” Sparky asked, as though perking up.

Against what she desired, Clara replied, “I’d feel better if you kept an eye on it.”

“Wise choice,” Eleanor said. “I can hold on to it, but I cannot guarantee I will be there to deliver it in times of need.”

Clara considered those words. Within a heartbeat, she presented the amphora to Eleanor.

“What’s life without risk?”

“Indeed,” Eleanor said and banished it back to the ether.

Clara sensed this discussion was nearing an end. Now that her leg was mostly healed, she grabbed onto a support beam and pulled herself up. The bone was sensitive to shifts in weight, but she would push through the pain.

She removed what was left of her jacket and spotted the scorch marks. That explained why she lost her pack, but not how she turned into a meteor crashing down to earth. I’ve never heard of that talent before…

“Do you have any idea what happened?” Clara asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Eleanor replied.

Clara’s head snapped back. Nothing associated with divine power was obvious. Unlike life as a hunter, these powers did not come with instruction and years of practice.

“It might be a nasty case of whiplash…” Clara guessed. “I’m sorry. I’ve no idea.”

Eleanor smiled, as though relishing in being the one with the answer. Clara could only assume Eleanor was rarely involved in such discussions. I don’t think Hecate or any of the other gods paid much attention to her.

“Do you think the gods came into existence with all their abilities?” Eleanor prompted.

Clara remembered growing into her abilities. Even with a natural acuity to hunting, one did not pick up an unfamiliar weapon and run into the fray. The idea of gods, beings that defied comprehension, learning through trial and error was a hard pill to swallow. Then again, legends and lore rarely portrayed them as all knowing and powerful…

“I’m guessing, no?” Clara answered.

“Well, my guess is that you tapped into your ability to move from point to point in the blink of an eye,” Eleanor said.

“Wait!” Clara exclaimed. “You mean teleport? Like the gates used by hunters.”

“I have no clue,” Eleanor said. “Did you learn to walk by taking a few steps, or by running a full marathon?”

Before Clara could consider what had been said, Eleanor was gone. That construct certainly had no trouble teleporting whenever and wherever she pleased.

“Right,” Clara said. “Wait till dark and fly out of here.”

CHAPTER 7

INTO THE DEPTHS

Clara knew that losing her personal phone on re-entry was a problem. I’ll need to address that sooner rather than later.

She was thankful for somehow maintaining her plain Jane form while in transit. At that velocity, her wings could have sheared off or been torn up bloody on impact. I’m not sure if ambrosia can regrow limbs…

As the stars broke through the night’s tapestry, Clara unfurled her wings. She turned toward the bright glow of the city and with a few powerful flaps was airborne. There was something about breaking free from the Earth’s grasp that never failed to give her a rush. It’s better than hugging the road in a car while taking a high-speed turn.

She flew just over the treeline to avoid being spotted. By focusing on the city’s distant glow, Clara estimated it was about an hour away by car. I’m lucky I woke up in such a remote location…

There were few signs of habitation near her impact point, other than an occasional porch light, or the dimly lit interior of a house. Even the roads here were narrow, ever divided by a solid yellow line. Well…maybe not that lucky.

It had been a while since she had flown over a long distance. While she was fine for the moment, she would need to account for fatigue. If her wings gave out mid-flight, that would effectively turn her into an unguided missile. One crash landing was enough for today.

It was time to play it smart. As she passed over properties, Clara evaluated the risks and rewards of attempting a raid. Eventually, she found a potential candidate. There was a dim glow emanating from the kitchen, and an eerie blue light illuminating the long driveway. What interested her was the truck parked near the house. The fact it appeared to be about a decade out of style simplified matters.

“No signs of a dog,” Clara said. “Worth a try.”

She swooped down from the trees, gliding a metre over the surface. Once within spitting distance of the vehicle, Clara pulled up to slow down and landed on her feet. After folding in her wings, Clara stopped to listen.

The place was quiet. There were no heartbeats in the home, save for what she assumed to be the cat. For all she knew, the owners had gone out for a night on the town and left the old work truck behind. All I need is fuel.

She tried the doors, but both were locked. With the right tools she might have been able to get inside without damage. However, rummaging around the property for tools only increased the risks of getting caught. Clara circled around to the passenger side and elbowed the window. The impact shattered the glass into hundreds of pieces.

“Like I need that shit on my ass,” Clara mumbled.

While that had been the plan, there were shards of glass found on both seats. She sighed and brushed it off with the sleeve of her jacket as best she could before getting in. Now comes the hard part.

How to hot-wire modern vehicles had not been covered in her Hunter 101 studies. When I learned to drive, you needed to crank the shaft to start the engine…

Of course, she knew the basics, but she’d never had to put it into practice. Just in case, she checked the glove compartment and sun visors for keys but came up empty.

Out of options, she tore off the cover surrounding the ignition and used the blade on Father Michael’s crucifix to bypass the mechanism. It took a few tries, but the engine roared to life. When all the indicator lights faded, Clara confirmed she had a half-tank of gas. Even if this thing is a hay burner, it ought to be enough…

“Let’s get moving,” Clara said.

She put the truck in gear and pushed on the throttle. As a precaution, Clara kept the headlights off to avoid getting noticed. I’d rather not deal with nosey neighbours.

“Speaking of which,” Clara said, “I wonder if it’s safe to head back into the city?”

With nothing to go on, she would be going in blind. For all she knew, there were police checkpoints everywhere searching passengers and their vehicles. Won’t help that mine is stolen…

“Oh right! The radio…”

Clara turned the dial and was greeted by a faint voice in a sea of static.

“That won’t do.”

She cycled through the channels; rock, metal, classical, and news. None were making special announcements or reporting on what happened in the city. Curiouser and curiouser.

To play it safe, Clara kept her distance. Her priority was to get resupplied; only then would she try to find out what happened. For this plan to work, it made sense to bypass a couple settlements prior to making a stop.

“It’s never easy…” Clara said.

While she maintained a neutral appearance, it was all an act. Clara had been trained to risk her life and missed the thrill of flirting with death. Truth be told, she would not have it any other way.

* * * *

As Clara circumvented the city, the airwaves remained curiously silent. Considering what blew up, this should make national news.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Clara said.

She suspected social media like Bealzabook and Twitcher were on fire, assuming the stories were not actively being blocked. It was easy to silence the people when excuses like the algorithm were readily accepted as a way of tipping the scales. Now we just blame the machines for their bias…

* * * *

Clara switched vehicles twice in the last few hours. She figured it would throw off potential pursuers, assuming anyone was following her at all. Now that she had some breathing room, Clara pulled into a remote motel lot.

She parked in an isolated space and killed the engine. Once the interior lights faded away, it was just her, the sound of the pinging engine, and the night sky. Alas, her view of the stars were drowned out by the ‘No Vacancy’ sign flickering in and out of existence.

After twenty minutes, the sky took on shades of purple and red as a precursor to the rising sun. Shortly thereafter, a man left his room with a bag in hand. He tossed it onto the passenger seat of his truck and drove off.

Fifteen minutes later, another man and his female partner left their room. Despite the cool morning air, they were not wearing coats. When she confirmed they were headed toward the restaurant at the other end, Clara exited the car and went to their room.

This early in the morning, the sound of breaking glass would set off alarms. The traffic from the highway was sparse and could not conceal the disturbance. She used a card from her stash to unlock the door and slipped inside. Their suitcase was open, and its contents were strewn throughout the room. She imagined mornings were pretty chaotic for these two. I’m almost tempted to clean this up…

Since it would take a bit of time to order and finish their meal, Clara stripped off her rags and hit the shower. She washed away the mess from yesterday’s follies and moaned as the heat radiated through her sore back. While the water headed for the drain ran pink from all that dried blood, Clara emptied what was left of the shampoo and conditioner. When satisfied that her hair was clean, she hurriedly towelled herself dry.

“Figures,” Clara said.

Every outfit was on the short side, so Clara made do with a pair of jeans, which fit like capris on her. She grabbed a bra that carried the scent of detergent, and with a few creative knots it would suffice.

Last, she needed a top, but nothing fit. So she checked the man’s side of the suitcase. Well, a little more than a quarter. There were a few baggy shirts that passed the sniff test. She grabbed a dark-red long-sleeved shirt, slipped it on, and exited through the bathroom window.

Done with what remained of yesterday’s outfit, Clara dumped them in the trash. Now that Clara was washed and clothed, she could blend in at shops and stores. Clara returned to the vehicle and drove off before the server arrived with the couple’s orders.

* * * *

Clara’s priority was to re-establish contact with the outside world. Had she not been blown to kingdom come, she would have reached the rendezvous point by now. While daylight bought her some time, the delay would give Evelyn reason to worry. I can’t imagine how she’d react after hearing about two large explosions where I was hunting…

At the outskirts of a small city, she pulled into the parking lot of a big box store. Everything she needed was inside, minus any armaments. That will have to wait.

She began with the basics, like toiletries, clothes, and underwear. Since she needed a place to stow it all, she grabbed a black backpack that looked to be durable. Finally, she went for what she coveted the most.

She grabbed the best disposable phone they had. To make her life easier, Clara picked up extra cables, along with a wall and car charger.

It was unfortunate that it could not support the encryption software she needed to communicate securely with Evelyn. They could chat over plain text but had to assume they were being monitored. It was fortunate they both knew enough obscure slang to keep eavesdroppers scratching their heads. Unless they lived through the same era…

Clara then used the self-checkout and crammed everything into the pack as it was scanned. Once paid up, she shouldered the bag and walked calmly out of the store.

As an additional precaution, she did not return to the car. Instead, she walked away from the store and stopped when she came across a popular restaurant chain. The thought of grabbing a bite to eat set a smile to her lips. That settles that.

* * * *

While waiting for her drink, Clara took everything she bought out of its packaging, thankful that there were no missing components. After the server dropped off a frosty glass of beer, she went to the bathroom. She used the opportunity to dispose of the packaging waste, make space for more beer, and washed her hands.

Now that she was back at the table, Clara knew it was time. She inserted the SIM card from her emergency stash and powered on the device. She chose this place because chain restaurants often offered guest Wi-Fi access. This location did not disappoint, and she was on the internet in seconds. As suspected, the device immediately performed software updates.

Before she began the setup process, her phone blew up with notifications. Since only a handful of people even knew this number, Clara had reasons to be curious. I really need to get up to speed with what was going on.

The attempt to rush through the setup process only made it worse for her. She was left feeling as though every step was taking an eternity. That might have been true, given that this phone was several generations behind what she had before.

“Have you decided?” the server asked.

Clara looked up at the server and that warm smile on his face. In her haste to get the phone up and running, she had forgotten to look over the menu.

“I’ll have the special,” Clara replied to get the server off her back.

The server nodded and grabbed the menu before walking away. Left literally to her own devices, Clara reached a point where she could peruse the notifications. They were all from a single number, which she immediately recognised. Curious, Clara tapped on the topmost notification.

Clara half-expected to see several messages from a concerned vampire. What she found was more perplexing. If she guessed right, this was a coded message without the added benefit of establishing the protocol ahead of time.

Evelyn: Matthew scored twelve out of forty on his exam.

Evelyn: Smokey the Bear secretly started the fires.

Evelyn: We have a lot of rain in June.

Evelyn: She saw no irony in asking me to change.

Evelyn: The best key-lime pie is still up for debate.

Evelyn: The river stole the gods.

Evelyn: If my calculator had a history.

Evelyn: The blinking lights of the antenna tower came into focus.

Evelyn: He dreamed of eating green apples.

Evelyn: She says she hears the soundtrack of your life.

Evelyn: He quietly entered the museum as the concert started.

Evelyn: He was disappointed that it was so sunny.

Evelyn: The busker questioned the people passing by.

How could Evelyn establish a code between parties without first discussing it? Clara and Evelyn shared a common history, had similar tastes, and were able to think on their feet. The code only needs to be strong enough to give the intended recipient an advantage.

Given enough time and resources, any code could be broken. Without coordination, Evelyn could not send complex messages. Such codes, like onetime passwords, had to be communicated ahead of time.

“She wants me to read this,” Clara whispered.

An initial look over the sentences revealed no immediate answers. For all she knew this was randomly generated text or extracted from unrelated works. None of the lines appeared to be related, nor did they share a theme. The only commonality was they appeared to be random.

Combining the first words yielded no result, nor did stringing together the first letters. One could spend hours trying to pull out a meaningful message from this using brute force. That was the point of it. That means she provided some sort of clue as to the key…

The name Matthew was familiar, and common outside of biblical references. However, Evelyn was not exactly Christian—

“Know thine enemy,” Clara whispered.

Evelyn was communicating to someone who would normally be her sworn enemy. This biscuit knows that hunters have intimate knowledge of biblical texts.

“For as Jonas was three days and three nights in the whale’s belly; so shall the Son of man be three days and three nights in the earth’s heart,” Clara said, reciting from memory Matthew 12:40.

The number three came up an awful lot in the verse. So either Evelyn was telling her to use three as a key, or there was some sort of pattern or formula to be applied. Let’s keep this simple.

While it was possible for three to refer to a letter, that rang false, because the letters she picked out were nonsensical. So, Clara discarded the first line and stitched together every third word.

Smokey the Bear secretly started the fires.

We have a lot of rain in June.

She saw no irony asking me to change.

The best key-lime pie is still up for debate.

The river stole the gods.

If my calculator had a history.

The blinking lights of the antenna tower came into focus.

He dreamed of eating green apples.

She says she hears the soundtrack of your life.

He quietly entered the museum as the concert started.

He was disappointed that it was so sunny.

The busker questioned the people passing by.

To come across such a random stream of words was disappointing, but not unexpected. Had someone been using brute force, they would have found a usable sentence on their third attempt. The words themselves might have been a decoy, so she focused on the first letter of the third word.

Smokey the Bear secretly started the fires.

We have a lot of rain in June.

She saw no irony asking me to change.

The best key-lime pie is still up for debate.

The river stole the gods.

If my calculator had a history.

The blinking lights of the antenna tower came into focus.

He dreamed of eating green apples.

She says she hears the soundtrack of your life.

He quietly entered the museum as the concert started.

He was disappointed that it was so sunny.

The busker questioned the people passing by.

Added together the result was:

BANKSCLOSEDQ

This result was more promising than previous attempts. However, punctuation and spacing were missing. So, she adjusted the text to get:

BANK’S CLOSED Q

The stray Q was out of place until she realised this might have been a question. Evelyn was reaching out after seeing all that chaos and asked a seemingly innocuous question:

BANK’S CLOSED?

That question had been common slang during the Roaring Twenties. While out on a date, people asked related questions to gauge desire and obtain consent. This response would tell a hopeful partner to find love elsewhere. Whereas cash or cheque showed how soon their interest would be reciprocated.

They both knew Clara should have made it to the rendezvous by now. Hence, Evelyn was asking if she was being stood up. If the bank was closed, why would I bother with a respo—

“Here you go,” the server said.

This meal was served in a bowl filled with fries, cheese curds, gravy, barbecue sauce, and crispy chicken. Clara had heard of such dishes before, but never experienced firsthand this local delicacy. She looked up at the server and smiled but cringed on the inside.

“It looks lovely,” Clara lied.

“Do you need anything?” the server confirmed.

“No,” Clara said. “Thank you.”

The server left the table, freeing Clara to plan a response. She had the choice of using the already established cypher key or changing it up to throw off potential eavesdroppers. The latter was a reasonable precaution and might force Evelyn to crack open a Bible. I like that part!

So, she needed a key, and selected seven. That number fit in with biblical themes and she knew plenty of relevant references. She then thought of a specific verse:

Elisha sent a messenger to say to him, “Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed.” 2 Kings 5:10

She also knew the reply:

CHEQUE

While looking for sentences that fit the theme, Clara grabbed a bite from her bowl. At first, the combination of flavours overwhelmed her palate, but it grew on her.

Once all the letters were replaced by an appropriate sentence, she sent them one by one with a reasonable delay in between. That’ll give me a chance to chew my food!

Clara: Since when do two decks of cards come with five Kings and ten spades?

Clara: The two walked down the slot canyon, oblivious to the sound of thunder in the distance.

Clara: When money was tight, he’d get his lunch money from the local wishing well.

“How are you liking it so far?” the server asked.

Clara glanced at her bowl and realised it was half full. I can’t stop eating this!

“I love it,” Clara said. “Thank you.”

Clara: Now I need to ponder my existence and ask myself if I’m truly real.

Clara: Two more days and all his questions would be answered.

The server dropped off a fresh beer. Clara looked up from her phone with a cocked brow. She caught him winking at her and she beamed a warm smile in return. I wonder why I’m getting noticed today?

Clara: He drank life before spitting it up.

Clara: The toddler’s endless tantrums caused the entire plane anxiety.

“Are you done with that?” the server asked.

The bowl was empty save for a single fry. Clara wiped her lips with a napkin and tossed it into the bowl.

“Yes,” Clara said. “Thank you.”

Hunters often communicated by telegram. Instead of a dot, they would use the word ‘STOP.’ Clara opted to use S as the last letter in her reply.

Clara: The miniature pet elephant became the symbol of the neighbourhood.

Assuming Evelyn got her reply and deciphered it, the biscuit would get confirmation that she had been delayed. Cheque meant she was planning to kiss later, while cash would have meant now. The financial nature of these terms might throw off anyone eavesdropping.

“You can pay whenever you’re ready,” the server said after dropping off the bill.

Clara noticed there was a phone number and name written on the bill. Julien—that’s a strong name. She looked up at the man and caught his bright smile. While surprised, it was refreshing, like she was back to the days of being Clara Grey, the hunter.

She imagined herself taking him for a spin. It had been a while since she had been with a man, and it might have been fun to go down memory lane. However, she had to get moving, and trouble was following in her wake. So she pulled out her credit card to pay what was owed and planned to add a generous gratuity.

“I’ll be right back with the machine,” Julien said.

Clara smiled at his disappointment. Not that it was funny, but because it likely saved his life. There will be other conquests…

* * * *

After two additional vehicle changes, Clara drove past the coordinates. She ditched her ride in a commuter-train parking lot, thirty minutes past her destination. She hoped the misdirection would make up for lost time. If they found her ride so close to the city, they might broaden their search. Scouring a metropolis that featured subways, highways, maritime traffic, and international airports would be sure to slow them down.

She hitchhiked her way back and was dropped off near to her meeting point. Given that the sun was still high in the sky, she grabbed an early supper and took her time. News about what happened remained sparse, and that was the same on social media.

Clara remembered skimming newspapers twice daily to find out what was going on. Around here, murders were uncommon and would have been covered with zeal. The headlines were an art unto themselves, and the prose was so flowery back then.

Major accidents, fires, or unexpected deaths were also covered in depth. If a newspaper didn’t report on a situation, another was sure to.

It was said these modern news outlets were in competition. However, the difference in what they covered appeared to be cosmetic. Two blasts occurring within hours of the other should have been reported. Not one of them thinks the news will sell? Raise their ratings? Or will put their names on the map?

The lack of reporting confirmed there was no competition. Clara even had trouble wrapping her mind around what they covered. A lot of these appear to be attempts at inciting panic.

Her potential rampage was still topping the news entries, and posts on social media claimed she was just outside a settlement that she bypassed entirely. Whoever was pulling the strings did not expect her to go off-road. I’m glad I opted to use the ferries.

Given time they would combine these disparate events together. She was not even in the clear. While they were searching for her in the wrong area, the heat would soon be back on her. Unless they think I’m dead…

Once done with her meal, she paid with another generous gratuity and walked out. Assuming no delays, the coordinates were about an hour away on foot. She shouldered the backpack and put her best foot forward.

* * * *

The last couple of kilometres took her through a new subdivision. The first few streets were well established, complete with concrete sidewalks, young trees, grass, and cars parked in most driveways. That changed as she neared her goal; properties here were at earlier stages of construction. Some featured beautiful homes surrounded by dried mud. Eventually there was nothing more than foundations, and then she found herself on a lonely dirt road.

“What am I looking at?” Clara asked once she reached the coordinates.

“A whole lot of nothing,” Ethereal said.

Ethereal was right, she was out in the middle of nowhere upon reaching the coordinates. This area was sparsely wooded with a lone mountain looming over the terrain. I wonder if Evelyn gave me the wrong coordinates?

“Evelyn likes to play with her food,” Ethereal taunted.

“Shut up,” Clara countered.

While possible, she doubted it. Evelyn had been at this game far too long to make that kind of mistake. While to err was human, for a vampire, mistakes risked discovery and being hunted down by an angry mob. This is where she wanted me to be—

After all that beer, the sound of trickling water from a nearby creek filled Clara with an urge to pee. She was about to seek sweet release when an idea floated up from the depths of her mind. To prove her theory, she did a search online for any historical information available on the area.

There was little to go on, but the land had been owned by the same family for generations. More appropriately, while the names had changed, the owners were the same.

“What am I looking at?” Clara repeated.

To her left, she spotted what remained of a grain silo. Despite having been abandoned for years, the stone cylinder stood the test of time and would for the foreseeable future. Just ahead, nearly swallowed by the woods, she spotted a knoll, with an unnaturally flat and level top. There was something there at one point.

“Power lines?” Clara asked.

They were so common nowadays that she often overlooked them. However, the poles were weatherworn and had been here for decades. Whereas the new builds in the subdivision had their lines buried, she noted that the last pole ended near the knoll. No power company maintains lines out of the goodness of their hearts.

She approached the last one and found the lines were channelled into a conduit. That detail helped to confirm this was likely the right place. It made sense, Evelyn would not risk exposure without first confirming an area was secure. If something goes wrong, they probably have some way of going to ground…

“You’d think that meeting at a popular park would be just as effective,” Clara mused.

“You wouldn’t look the fool out in public,” Ethereal said.

She circled the hill and neared the water. The wind blowing over the water cooled her cheeks. She momentarily considered kicking off her shoes and wading in to keep her mind off the oppressive afternoon sun.

However, her urge to pee could not be ignored. Clara relieved herself some distance away. All the while she thought about what she would do next but came up empty.

The flat top hinted that it might have been a root cellar. However, it could just as easily have been the foundations of a home that rotted away over the years.

There were no overt signs of water being redirected. The power and phone lines presumably led somewhere. Had there been a house here, the lines would have been connected directly and left dangling…

She pulled out her phone and noticed there was a Wi-Fi network nearby. Clara cocked a brow, questioning her reality. While the signal was weak, the name itself provided a clue: FALLEN ANGEL.

“Like that’s a coincidence,” Clara said in a sardonic tone.

“Evelyn set up a trap for you,” Ethereal said.

She remembered Elizabeth showing her how to use a Wi-Fi tracking app. Within a couple of minutes, the app was installed and beeping away to indicate signal strength.

The signal was faint to begin with, but it trailed off before reaching the utility pole. That remained true if she travelled too far in any other direction. The signal was unquestionably stronger at the waterline. At the strongest point, she spotted a partially concealed culvert. I must’ve walked by it five times!

She took off her shoes and stowed them in her backpack. There was no way she could get into that culvert without getting wet, since it was only big enough to crawl.

Clara noticed the culvert was grated, complete with a thick lock that would resist tampering. This should be fun! While she cooled her heels, she picked the lock and opened the grate. Beyond this point, it was dark, except for a faint green glow at the end of the tunnel. Clara tensed her jaw muscles and got on all fours.

“Like the good bitch you are,” Ethereal taunted.

Before venturing any deeper, Clara locked up behind her to prevent anyone from sneaking up on her. The muddy water will clear up in an hour, and no one will know I was here.

After that, she trudged through the cool water until she reached an opening. The size of this space was entirely unexpected. For one, she could stand upright, and she found herself surrounded by concrete walls, floor, and ceiling.

About a foot above the water level there was a solid platform. It served as a landing and there was a steel door at the end accompanied by a glowing keypad. To crawl through a hole barely big enough for a grown woman only to end up in a high-technology lockup was a bit like Alice waking up in Wonderland.

As she approached the keypad, it flashed three times. After its third iteration, Clara made out what was displayed. It read: Smile, you’re on camera.

Clara scanned the room several times before finding the cameras. There were three, all about the size of a pinhole. An additional layer of security.

“Are you going to let me in?” Clara asked.

As though on cue, there came an electrical buzz, followed by a click at the door. Clara pulled on the handle, revealing a larger complex. Dead ahead there was a ladder that led to the deck above.

“Horsefeathers,” Clara swore. “There’s another entrance?”

Meanwhile, the sisters laughed maniacally.

CHAPTER 8

NEEDS AND WANTS

Clara expected this place to be some sort of safehouse. That would have explained the over-the-top security precautions. However, it turned out to be something else entirely. First came the scents of petroleum, oil, and lubricants. The combination of which brought back memories of haunting the halls at The Tower. Clara remembered how the classroom always smelled like this after firearms training and so did the…

“Armoury…” Clara said.

The hunter caches paled in comparison to this place. A store of this size could easily outfit a company with advanced military hardware. I resent that Evelyn never mentioned her sire’s toy collection.

The idea of having so much hardware packed away in one place made her chuckle. Clara had seen plenty of zombie movies while on the lam. If the dead ever crawled out of their graves, this would be her go-to place. There’s enough here to start a war.

“Pistols, combat shotguns, sniper and assault rifles, light and heavy machine guns, mortars, and rocket-propelled grenades,” Clara said.

While these were newer than what she trained on, the basic design was the same. The sight of these filled her with a desire to have some fun on the range. That’s the most fun acolytes had at The Tower.

“Kevlar vests, ballistic plates, webbing, assorted gear…”

While impressive, there were no cots, rations, or general supplies. That made sense considering this was a vampire’s cache. I wonder if there’s a fridge full of blood bags?

“It’s not exactly the Ritz,” Clara mused.

“Sleeping on the floor is more than you deserve,” Ethereal hissed.

Clara had several hours to kill before any sane vampire would come for her. That meant she had to cast aside needs like thirst and hunger until they showed up. With a bit of rest and meditation, she would manage fine. However, if no one showed in the next twenty-four hours, Clara had to assume something was wrong and disappear. Not without taking some of these toys with me.

With that in mind, she removed a combat shotgun and two pistols from their racks. Without ammunition they were paperweights, but there were plenty on hand. She cracked open the seal of two cans to bomb up.

She stowed the pistols in her backpack but kept the shotgun at her side. She wanted something that packed a punch in case anyone got the bright idea of storming this place. With all of this, they’d need artillery to get at me…

With all the precautions in place, she connected to the Wi-Fi using the password shown on the inside panel. It gave her a solid connection to the internet while cut off entirely from the cellular network. I can’t get a single bar in here…it must be those thick walls and surrounding soil.

From her backpack, she took out a set of wired earbuds and a charger. There was an outlet near the door, which suited her needs. She plugged in her phone to charge and tapped on a music app.

A shame there were no channels dedicated to the Roaring Twenties or even the thirties. However, she found one playing music from the forties. At least it was not what passed for pop these days. Clara selected the channel, then tapped on ‘Play.’ I bet no one from my time would believe such a device was possible.

Music posed a risk, but the volume was low enough to hear the electrical panel hum. The music would take her mind off her surroundings, including the cold floor and wall she was pressed against.

“The dead don’t feel the cold,” Ethereal said.

While tempted to close her eyes and rest, she cycled through her synced contacts and selected Elizabeth. A blank conversation popped up, and all that anxiety she avoided until now washed over her like a tidal wave.

Her thumbs hovered over the virtual keys, desperate for something to say. Why the impasse? This was the woman she saved from certain death. Why could she not reach out and make contact?

Ashamed, she swiped the messenger app away and locked her phone. All that trauma weighed on her, and she realised she was emotionally exhausted. It hit her all at once, Elizabeth, the one-night stand, the needless deaths, and the life she took. It was time for her to acknowledge her humanity.

Clara leaned her head against the wall and cried. After a solid twenty minutes of tears, the exhaustion had taken its toll, and she was fast asleep.

“So what do we do next?” Sparky asked.

* * * *

“She’s getting weaker,” Ethereal whispered.

“It’s only a matter of time,” Silver added.

“Yay!” Sparky exclaimed.

Hours later, Clara woke with a start. Most hunters were conditioned to be light sleepers. It was like sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, woken by all the stray sounds that could not be accustomed to.

Hunters maintained this state every time they slept. That explained why hunters were predominantly lucid dreamers. They needed to remain aware of the outside world, even as their minds processed what happened that day.

The sound that woke her was faint, and not of a mechanical origin. Clara placed a hand on the shotgun and popped out her earbuds with a solid tug. Whatever the source, it originated from above.

“They found you,” Ethereal said.

Other noises ensued, like a door latch disengaging. This was followed by several focused taps on the floor, transitioning from one end of the cache toward the hatch. From a list of those who might check up on her, the sound of high heels was a welcomed clue.

“Ada knows your weaknesses,” Ethereal added.

There was a pause near the hatch, followed by several taps on a keypad. Clara considered turning on the lights but opted to keep herself in the dark as a precaution. If this was a ruse, this would leave any human at a distinct disadvantage.

There were fifteen beeps in all, and Clara caught the lock click. Shortly thereafter, a pair of expensive high-heeled shoes appeared on the ladder, followed by smooth legs, and a hiked-up dress. Clearly this facility was not designed for those wearing evening gowns.

“Ada knows you better than you know yourself,” Ethereal whispered.

Evelyn was still partially concealed when she peeked below the hatch coaming and smiled. Since Clara was in plain Jane disguise, the sight of the smile added fuel to her paranoia. Why was the biscuit not concerned about there being a strange woman in here? Something’s not right…

“Evelyn’s in on it,” Silver said.

“This one is really a dunce,” Sparky taunted.

“Clara, ma chère,” Evelyn said with a smile.

Clara’s eyes flashed blue as her wings sprouted within the space of a heartbeat. Before Evelyn’s toes even touched the floor, the angel was fully formed and barrelling toward her. In a rare lapse of decorum, Evelyn’s smile faded, and those eyes grew wide.

Clara used her wings to drive Evelyn into the wall. Even with vampiric strength, she could only surrender to the laws of physics. The impact forced the air out of Evelyn’s lungs.

“Not so rough,” Evelyn said after a quick recovery. “I like a little fore—”

Clara used her wings to keep the vampire pinned in place.

“How did you know it was me?” Clara demanded.

“What do you mean?” Evelyn replied. “Should I have found a sultry blonde in here? Wait! Did you bring a surprise?”

“I didn’t have wings,” Clara said.

“You could have easily kept them tucked behind your back,” Evelyn said.

“I was going plain Jane,” Clara retorted.

“Ma chère,” Evelyn replied. “Taking off your makeup does not suddenly make you incognito. Contrary to popular culture, putting on glasses does not render you unrecognisable by those who know you…intimately.”

“She’s lying,” Ethereal hissed.

That voice was like a distant whisper. Before Clara had time to process what Ethereal said, the sisters were silenced.

Clara closed the distance between them, not concerned about Evelyn reacting adversely to being so close to an angel. The last time they had been like this, this biscuit had been wearing a latex bodysuit that made her look like a doll. She needed to get at the truth, and that meant going on the offensive.

“I looked nothing like normal,” Clara said. “Not in that form.”

“You don’t remember?” Evelyn asked as her eyes softened. “You looked just like that when we first met.”

“What?” Clara asked, no longer certain about what to believe.

“That night on the streets,” Evelyn replied. “Working the corner like a common harlot waiting for that vampiric John looking to tag you as his next fix…”

Clara remembered that night clearly. It had been a bitterly cold night, and her feet had gone numb from standing outside in the snow. She also remembered Evelyn and her sire taking a stroll on the other side of the street. That dirty look she gave me, as though I was gutter trash.

She met up with Evelyn after disposing of the body and found out they had been sent in to deal with the serial-killing vampire. Evelyn may appear young, but her attitude was always that of a woman in a position of power.

Demeanour could open doors, but it was all about applying the right flavour. A teenager buying alcohol while giggling nervously and avoiding eye contact seldom got their way. Whereas a woman who walks in dressed to the nines, picks up a rare vintage of champagne, and drops her platinum credit card was never challenged.

“Had you not been a hunter that day,” Evelyn mused, before licking her lips.

“Where would we be now?”

“I think you can guess,” Evelyn teased.

That biscuit flashed her trademark smile, the one that promised the world in exchange for complete and utter submission. She had seen what this one was capable of; the passion and life that flowed through that dead flesh. Clara had no trouble imagining that many surrendered without a moment’s thought.

Clara moved in closer. Their lips brushed together. The vampire stared back into her eyes, the fires of passion burning hot within. There was no fear in those eyes, not for what Clara had done, or for the risk of getting burned. She must have suspected touching was possible. How?

“I can smell you,” Clara whispered. “You’re intoxicating.”

Evelyn was like a drug. This was more than green eyes, black hair, and sharp facial features. It was more than her having the body of a supermodel with clothing that enhanced her sensuality. Evelyn was lust, as beautiful as she was dangerous.

The biscuit smiled and did not move, having surrendered entirely to Clara’s will. Evelyn could push back if needed but appeared to enjoy the reversal. It’s rare that she can submit to another.

“I’m not wearing panties,” Evelyn said. “Why don’t you—”

Clara knew full well that the vampire was not wearing underwear. It would have ruined the lines of that sleek black dress and might have left something to the imagination when she climbed down the ladder. Everything was calculated with this one, all an elaborate act, but Clara did not care.

“I don’t want you,” Clara whispered softly.

She again brushed Evelyn’s lips with her own. The motion was so light they may as well have been in contact with fine silk. She pulled back to tease, but never lost focus on those piercing green eyes.

Had the sisters been up to their old tricks, they would have continued to play on her fears of this being some sort of ploy. Since returning to her natural form, the whispering was gone.

Clara had forgotten what clarity of thought was. Had she not come here seeking information and resources, she might have missed that nuance. Still, Clara had to admit it had mostly been an excuse to find a way back to this Sheba.

“However…” Clara said.

As Clara kissed the vampire lightly, she released her partner.

“I…” Clara said.

This kiss was deeper; she even opened her eyes to see the lust reflected in the other’s.

“Need…” Clara emphasised.

A third passionate kiss followed. This time she pulled away only once her lungs were begging for air.

“You,” Clara finished.

This time they melted into an embrace. Clara followed Evelyn’s hint and hiked up that dress to reach that warm spot between those smooth legs. One light motion along the slit was enough to make Evelyn quiver as their tongues danced.

When they broke contact, they were both gasping for air, ever hungry for more.

“I’ll take it,” Evelyn said with a grin.

In one skilled motion, that dress puddled to the ground…

* * * *

Clara took a deep breath and opened her eyes in a flutter. Her wings were positioned above her like a cocoon, and despite the cold floor, she did not care. Her lips tasted of Evelyn and the memories of last night’s tryst were firmly in the forefront of her mind.

She lifted a wing to have a better look. The vampire was cuddled in with her head against Clara’s chest, just below the left breast. The biscuit appeared to be enamoured by the rhythmic heartbeat. Clara could hear Evelyn’s as well but knew that it could be stopped. It’s all for show.

“Put that wing back down,” Evelyn whined. “My ass is getting cold.”

It was said that vampires did not feel the cold, and Clara wondered if the same applied for Evelyn. However, she never met another vampire who could eat food and maintain a steady heartbeat. She suspected that while maintaining a normal body temperature was beyond her means, the sensations of hot and cold remained.

“I was enjoying the view,” Clara said before kissing Evelyn on the forehead.

“Since it’s after sunrise, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to see all of me again…and again,” Evelyn countered.

“Now there’s an idea,” Clara said before a soft sigh escaped those lips.

“What’s wrong?” Evelyn asked.

“Nothing,” Clara said. “With all the shit that’s been happening, I can’t—”

Evelyn placed a finger perpendicular to Clara’s lips and shushed. It appeared dismissive, but there would be time to get back to the subject later. She doesn’t want me to ruin the moment.

“You know what I’d like?” Evelyn asked.

“Other than barneymugging somewhere with a bed? Or even some furniture?” Clara asked.

Evelyn giggled at the answer. Clara could not help but chuckle and consciously let go of those thoughts that were sure to darken this moment. There’ll be other opportunities.

“A night with me and you’re already reading my mind,” Evelyn said before winking.

Clara sensed Evelyn wanted to say something else, but that quip either killed the mood or rendered it irrelevant. Given the situation, it was best not to push matters too far. She doesn’t want this exchange getting too serious.

“I think that dress of yours may be ruined,” Clara mused. “Heck, if we took a bath, we’d be liable to harden in concrete.”

“Oh non! What a way to go, forever locked in your arms,” Evelyn said in a dreamy voice.

Evelyn unconsciously ran a hand down her side, confirming there was indeed grit all over her body. It was fine, unlike sand, more like the consistency of flour. They would need some vigorous rubbing to take it off in the shower, but both were up for the task.

“Ma chère,” Evelyn began, “what was that last night?”

That was the question Clara wanted to avoid. It was entirely out of character for her, especially with Evelyn arriving alone. She suspected she had been compromised, a byproduct of her dealing with Hecate.

“I’m not entirely sure myself,” Clara whispered.

“Pardon?” Evelyn asked, before nuzzling in to bring home the fact this was not an inquisition. “I love how warm you are.”

“I love that you’re not,” Clara countered.

However, she knew the biscuit would not be so easily deflected. I can’t even wrap my mind around it.

As a hunter, Evelyn was a sworn enemy, so Hecate was not entirely wrong on that front. This was a master manipulator, with tenebrous loyalties. However, Clara had no one else to turn to. She had been away from this world for several generations and every hunter she knew had died of old age, disease, or suffered a violent death.

What she said last night had been the truth. Evelyn was not what she wanted on paper, but she could not imagine being with anyone else. A wave of guilt flowed over her thoughts, but she quickly dismissed it. That guilt gives Hecate a way in.

The relationship she had with Elizabeth came with a significant power imbalance baked in. It would have taken significant emotional investment and dedication to make it viable. Even then, there were certainly no guarantees of a happy ending.

It was so easy with Evelyn, and the sex was mind blowing. The fact this one understood her challenges was a relief. They might have come from opposing sides of the conflict, but that somehow deepened their understanding of the other.

“I’ve been hearing voices,” Clara said, after making the choice to show weakness.

“With all the shit you’ve been through?” Evelyn said. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“That’s a fair point,” Clara said. “However, this goes beyond my mental health.”

“How so?” Evelyn asked.

Evelyn shifted positions to look into Clara’s eyes. That actually looks uncomfortable.

“When we last met,” Clara said, “you called me a goddess after I froze Marc in mid-air.”

“I remember,” Evelyn said. “It saved you from getting run through with what remained of his sabre.”

“Exactly,” Clara said. “My powers have grown since then. I can direct focused rage toward foes, I can hide as a plain version of myself, and I can communicate with the dead.”

“These were all aspects of that goddess you killed? Hecate, was it?” Evelyn confirmed.

This was one reason she needed to be here. Attempting to explain this to Elizabeth would have further traumatised the poor woman. As a social worker, she might have tried to help Clara, but Elizabeth continued to struggle with coming face to face with the truth about monsters.

“It was,” Clara answered. “Some of these powers come with an emotional component, like tapping into key elements of that persona.”

“She’s still with you?” Evelyn pushed.

Despite the obvious discomfort, Evelyn maintained that awkward pose. This must be really important to her.

“More like them,” Clara replied. “At first they were whispers, as though walking into church after mass begins. You know they are talking about you, but you can’t tell what’s being said.”

“Until last night?”

“Moreso over the past week,” Clara said. “Last night, I could have sworn that voice had come straight from the depths of my mind.”

“So, why are we having this wonderful chat?”

“The whispers were silenced when I assumed my natural form,” Clara said, accepting that black-feathered wings were not exactly normal.

“You know what that means, ma chère?”

“That I have to…stop using my powers?”

“You must stop being so cavalier with your powers,” Evelyn superimposed.

Clara chuckled in response, and Evelyn finished that line by kissing the angel on the lips. While tender, there was still plenty of pent-up desire in those eyes.

“I enjoyed being plain Jane,” Clara mused.

“No wings, and wonderfully boring?” Evelyn said. “Are you sure there’s not a padded cell reserved for you?”

“Certain,” Clara replied. “Unless you have some contacts? The things I could do to you when surrounded by rubber walls…”

“There’s my girl!” Evelyn exclaimed. “Who says I don’t have a room fitted for such a purpose?”

“To think, you were the one who dressed as an angel for that party.”

Clara observed Evelyn moving those lips as though saying ‘ouch.’ However, it was clear she enjoyed this riposte. Clara found it amusing that they could connect at this level. She rarely reached this level with others—it would require sticking with a relationship long enough to reach that point.

“So you said my plain Jane persona was just me as a human?” Clara asked.

“Bien sûr,” Evelyn replied. “Totally scrumptious.”

“Wait. You liked me like that?” Clara asked, unsure how to interpret that line.

“You’ve always been scrumptious, ma chère,” Evelyn replied. “However, you are utterly stunning in your current iteration, a veritable goddess.”

“Then why were people looking through me?”

Evelyn pushed herself up while moving Clara’s wing out of the way. The air may have been cold, but this enabled her to converse more comfortably.

Clara sat, folded in her wings, and kept a distance from the wall. Sitting on the floor was not ideal, but their options were limited. All the while the biscuit appeared to be deep in thought. She even adopted the thinking-man’s pose. Ever one for theatrics.

“You said these powers have an emotional component?” Evelyn asked.

“Yes.”

“Ever heard of a fuck-off-and-die look? Or a resting-bitch face?”

“No,” Clara said. “What do you mean?”

Evelyn furrowed her brow before letting out the air through her parted lips. Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling as she paused for several heartbeats and returned her focus to those steel-grey irises.

“It’s often associated with women, but it’s not exclusive to us,” Evelyn replied. “It’s that cold chill that runs down your spine in response to unwanted flirting or an inquisitive stare. The one that confirms to a prospective suitor that not only are these lands barren, they have been salted.”

Clara would have understood an expression like, giving someone the cold shoulder, but suspected this was more of a state of being. This was an active defence against those who sought to ruin a happy relationship.

“If I were to guess, you’ve been seeing more interest of late?” Evelyn asked.

That question forced Clara to reflect. Ever since that bar fight, she got more interest from both men and women. She initially dismissed this behaviour as being anomalous. Was this true?

“Now that you mention—”

“You got your mojo back,” Evelyn said.

“What do you mean?”

“The essence of you. Your sass, your swagger, and that sexy confidence that draws me to you like a moth to a flame.”

That explained a great deal about the change in behaviour between the fine-moustached man and the server. There must have been more variables of her going out incognito than she initially assumed. While she could revert to a woman in dire need of a trip to the hen coop, it turned out there was more to a disguise than makeup and coiffed hair.

“My personality plays a big part in the disguise,” Clara said.

“Et voila,” Evelyn said. “You already knew that but assumed this plain Jane state naturally accounted for it. You inadvertently let your natural personality shine through and people respond to it…favourably.”

That meant Clara needed to be more careful when out and about. Effectively, she would need to take on a mousey attitude that was foreign to her. Since she was initially hiding from the world, it explained the early effectiveness.

“What about Ada?” Clara asked.

Evelyn showed no signs of hearing the question. The biscuit closed her eyes, spread her legs, and slid a hand seductively down her tummy and toward her berry patch. Those fingers knew exactly how to get herself all wet and glistening.

“Hmm,” Evelyn said. “I’m all wet. What am I to do?”

Clara smirked; that video Evelyn sent days ago paled compared to this display. It was a cheap ploy to avoid delving into an uncomfortable topic, but it was nonetheless effective.

Clara agreed and said, “Never mind…”

“That’s better,” Evelyn said in a husky voice.

* * * *

An hour after the sunset, there came the sound of a vehicle pulling up. That was a detail she missed the last time on account of her falling asleep. With Evelyn here, the security system triggered a proximity alert and wondered why that was not the default… Why let thieves know someone is coming?

“That man has a clock up his ass,” Evelyn said.

“Because he keeps good time?” Clara confirmed.

“Oui,” Evelyn replied before giggling. “That and he’s wound up so tight.”

Clara laughed but was wary of crossing over the line. Evelyn did say their relationship was not sexual, but Clara had never seen a more devoted couple. Make an inappropriate comment and lose them as allies.

These two had killed for the other. If push came to shove, Clara figured they would give up their lives to save the other. However, she suspected Marc would never allow Evelyn to end up in such a situation. He’ll always be her protector.

“Can you help me with the zipper?” Evelyn asked.

Clara smirked, knowing full well that anyone capable of removing her dress so fast could put it back on. Still, the ability for intimate touch was a novelty for them. Normally, vampires burned on contact with the faithful, and that was amplified by Clara being a soldier of Heaven. To be fair, I was never a model angel…

“Sure,” Clara said.

Once directly behind her, Clara placed a hand upon those shoulders and nuzzled her neck. Evelyn responded by taking Clara’s hand and sighing softly. It was all textbook, but she desperately needed this level of intimacy after being on the lam for so long.

“Marc is waiting,” Evelyn said.

“Like he hasn’t caught you in the act before,” Clara replied, while breathing in Evelyn’s scent.

“True,” Evelyn said in those musical tones. “My suite has all the amenities, including a bed…”

“Right…”

She pulled away and ran the zipper home. The dress was dusty, and so were they. Clara was sure to welcome a warm shower when the opportunity came up. That grit really got everywhere…

“Not worried they will track me?” Clara confirmed.

“No more than burning up in your arms,” Evelyn replied.

“Curious, that,” Clara said. “Not that I’m complaining…”

“It shouldn’t be possible,” Evelyn admitted. “There are reasons the vampires at the club gave you a wide berth.”

“And yet—”

“You said I had a soul, one growing more vibrant?”

It was rare for vampires to have more than a trace imprint of the soul they had in life. Clara supposed it had something to do with their turning away from the light of god. That part of them died in exchange for eternal life on the mortal plane.

However, Evelyn was correct in stating that her soul was healing nicely. She suspected Evelyn would be able to walk amongst the living and pass by another angel without raising an alarm. Although, I suspect her association with me would put her on their watch list.

“It is,” Clara said with a nod. “You’ve been a good girl.”

There was a long pause before Evelyn replied. Clara never noticed it, because she was temporarily distracted by the sound of a door opening on the upper level. Had she caught sight of those eyes, Clara might have realised that plenty had been left unsaid.

Clara’s faith was fading because of her disillusionment over the institutions she once believed in. Whereas Evelyn’s faith was ascending, focused on the black-winged beauty before her.

“I’m more selective on who I choose to channel my dark urges on,” Evelyn said. “Although, I’ve never been one to kill needlessly. Our kind can’t hide amongst the sheep while thinning out the herd.”

The pacing above them was more than either could ignore.

“Viens,” Evelyn said. “Marc is waiting.”

“You always know,” Clara said after shouldering her backpack.

“Bien sûr,” Evelyn said. “We tightened our bond after we were separated during an attack in Nouvelle France.”

Clara knew vampires created telepathic links with humans. Such an arrangement permitted them to spy and influence their lessers. However, those afflicted were rarely aware of the link. Elizabeth had been under Evelyn’s spell for years, that is until Clara shattered that link using a spell of her own.

It surprised her that vampires would create a two-way link. Sure, a sire might make use of such a mechanism to monitor and control their progeny. However, a reciprocal link was risky… Unless the two are utterly dedicated to one another.

“So, that’s why you didn’t call Marc to let him know you were safe,” Clara said.

“Oui,” Evelyn said. “That’s also why he didn’t come down here after you pushed me against the wall.”

“It might have ruined the mood,” Clara said.

“Just a smidge,” Evelyn replied before smirking.

Evelyn had taken an enormous risk in confessing that detail. An opponent might leverage such a bond to their advantage. It’s terrifying to think she trusts me enough to admit it.

CHAPTER 9

NIGHT RIDER

In the past, Marc would pick them up in a limousine, but that type of vehicle was out of place here. Instead, he arrived in an oversized sport utility vehicle fitted with tinted windows.

In contrast, this man did not subscribe to the idea of being inconspicuous, and when considering that gown, nor did Evelyn. The elder vampire was literally a walking anachronism, wearing a suit and tie that were decades out of fashion. While they may have been tailored from the finest fabrics, he appeared more at home chauffeuring the Queen than walking amongst the public.

Clara found Marc to be a striking male specimen but would never dare confess that fact to either of them. He had these intense hazelnut eyes, dark straight hair, and a chiselled jaw replete with sharp facial features. The most peculiar detail was that he was no more than two centimetres taller than Evelyn. Today that was unusual, but they were both a product of the eras they had been born to.

That meant Clara towered over the both of them, even if she was not tall herself when compared to modern standards. It was fun because she enjoyed the role reversal when they duelled.

Either way, Clara did not mind the change. It was a dream compared to the buses that served as her default mode of transport. While vehicles like this were common, buses were anonymous. Seldom did a driver notice a bus, let alone the passengers within. Anonymity, within reason, suits me just fine.

* * * *

“What do you know about my sister?” Clara asked.

The smile that lingered on Evelyn’s lips since they first kissed faded away. Clara momentarily felt guilty for ruining the mood. However, her world had gone up in flames and it was time to get situated and fast.

“Not as much as we would like,” Evelyn said. “She was Drusilla’s pet project, not unlike my Grace.”

Grace was a vampire cursed by youth, unable to blend in with adults. She knew Evelyn employed her for special missions. While they never met in person, that centuries-old teenager saved Elizabeth from a pack of werewolves… For a couple hours at least.

“That’s what caught me by surprise,” Clara said. “The last time we saw each other, Ada was engaged to marry a coal miner.”

“Do you ever look back?” Evelyn asked.

The bluntness of that question hit Clara like a slap to her face. However, that accusation was not new, and Clara had been forced to bear witness to the damage she wrought on those left in her wake.

Edith was a prime example—the older acolyte who had been her mentor and best friend. Clara never looked back after the mission. The list of names was extensive, and that included lovers. Clara had always maintained a laser focus on her next adventure and what lay ahead. I never even bothered to write Edith, or asked how she was doing after that mission.

While killing Hecate had immediate repercussions, ending the life of the Alpha of a werewolf pack ended up lighting a slow-burning fuse. That blew up in her face months later when Elizabeth was taken from her. To get her back, she unleashed a fury upon them that became the stuff of legend. That’s why the media calls me the Valkyrie.

“I’m working on it,” Clara said.

The normally silent Marc chuckled. If ever there was a way to rub it in, that would be it. While painful, sometimes the truth needed to come to light.

“Do you remember meeting Drusilla?” Evelyn asked.

“Hard to forget,” Clara said. “She’s the one who bled Father Michael dry.”

Evelyn smiled, as though a piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. At that moment, Clara realised neither side had a full picture of the situation.

“Do you know why she was there?” Evelyn asked.

“At the time? No,” Clara replied. “Later on, I suspected there must have been a Terminus gate on the site.”

“What did you do in response?” Evelyn asked.

“I stabbed Drusilla,” Clara said. “She was surprisingly pissed.”

“I wonder why?” Evelyn teased. “That stunt of yours set her plans back by a quarter of a century.”

That statement matched up with Clara’s observations. Drusilla had been hellbent on revenge. A vampire whose roots stemmed from The Tower itself, this was a hunter who switched sides once power was out of her grasp.

Drusilla also played an instrumental part in domesticating ghouls. Clara also experienced firsthand what happened when Drusilla found her mark. We ended up isolated from The Tower.

“How does that…” Clara said before her eyes opened wide. “Right…beware a woman scorned.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Evelyn said. “She later returned and tortured some nuns to get at your records. That’s when she found out you had family.”

That was a sobering thought. A child stabs a thousand-year-old vampire and their first thought is revenge? It’s like swatting a fly with a nuclear warhead… Talk about overkill…

Two relatives remained after that incident. Ada the eldest, and Maria the middle child. The latter was more of a concern, at least she had an idea of what Ada was up to.

“Do you know what happened to Maria?” Clara asked.

“Maria?” Evelyn asked in return. “I’m sorry, but no other name ever came up in conversation.”

Cold comfort for someone who walked away and never gave her a second thought. With the years that passed, Maria should have been laid to rest decades ago. However, given Drusilla’s proclivity for violence, it might have been a gruesome end.

“Oh,” Clara said. “How did Ada stay off my radar until now?”

“We didn’t know,” Evelyn replied. “One of Drusilla’s strengths was keeping her operatives out of sight.”

“When did you find out?” Clara asked.

“Shortly after you fell to Earth,” Evelyn said. “Killing Drusilla created a power vacuum. Many of her assets remained in the shadows. Once you made an appearance, Ada unleashed a bloodbath as she wrestled control from the warring factions.”

Clara was not surprised. When time stopped being a factor in life, a ninety-year pause meant little to them. However, Clara escaping the clutches of death reopened old wounds. I robbed her of her peace…

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Clara asked.

“Knowing a name doesn’t include knowing their history,” Evelyn said. “We realised she was fixated on you, but so was her sire. By the time we recognised her motivations, you had gone to ground.”

Again, her propensity to cut and run had left another lit fuse behind. Evelyn had every right to leave her in the dark. Mind you, I wouldn’t have triggered that trap without getting that tip…

“How did you know about that pub?” Clara asked.

“Grace learned there was a large concentration of Drusil—Ada’s forces in the area,” Evelyn replied. “We only knew that this pub was significant for your sister… Something to do with it being built on the site of the town’s original drinking establishment.”

Clara had been a child back then. While the museum tour dislodged several memories, many gaps remained. Ada must have assumed her younger sister would one day seek to reconnect with her past… She included sites that had no meaning for me.

“Wait…” Clara said.

Why would Evelyn uproot her life to settle here? Their incursion into that vampire club should have cemented her foothold over the city… What am I missing?

“Is Ada the reason you moved?” Clara asked.

“That was our impetus to leave,” Evelyn replied.

“You once told me the council had been collaborating with the government,” Clara said.

“They were. Ada was supportive of such initiatives,” Evelyn said. “I don’t know for certain, but I suspect that she believed the government could be made to do her dirty work.”

There was finally a shitstorm that was not entirely her doing. No matter, she was neck deep in this mess and needed this lifeline to keep from drowning.

“How are we going to deal with this?” Clara asked.

“We?” Evelyn asked. “Aren’t you the strategist?”

“More of a provocateuse,” Clara said. “Tell me everything you know about—”

Evelyn’s face glitched. Within the space between heartbeats, she must have looked behind her. Meanwhile, Marc’s eyes remained centred on the rearview mirror. Something is behind us?

“What’s wrong, mon cher?” Evelyn asked.

Clara peeked behind her and spotted the flashing red-and-blue lights of a police cruiser. While the tint prevented her from seeing the vehicle clearly, it was rapidly closing the gap. They are running us down.

“You’re sure it’s for us?” Evelyn confirmed.

It was late, and the traffic was light. The glow from other vehicles, both ahead and behind, were distant and dim. This lent credibility to the theory that this vehicle was their intended target. How well connected is Ada?

“Right. There’s nothing on the scanner,” Evelyn said.

Marc rarely spoke with Evelyn because there was no need. Had she not shared this information, Clara would have been left to ask a lot of questions. Instead, the angel knew enough to trust what these two were planning. They want me to stay out of this.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Evelyn said.

Evelyn winked and slipped between the seats toward the front. Clara got a magnificent view of the biscuit’s backside before she scooted onto the passenger seat. Marc then adjusted the side mirrors so Evelyn could see what was going on.

“Are you sure?” Evelyn asked.

That question chilled Clara’s blood, because there was no emotional element to it. It forced Clara to wonder how much of an act that bubbly personality was. Have I ever seen the real Evelyn?

That trademark smile faltered for a fraction of a second. She quickly recovered and turned her attention to Marc. After looking into the other’s eyes, Evelyn leaned over to Marc’s seat.

“Scoot over and get behind the driver’s seat,” Evelyn said.

Clara did as requested, just in time to hear a zipper and buttons being undone, followed by shifting material. To further confuse what Clara knew of their relationship, there soon came sucking and slurping sounds growing in intensity as the car slowed to a stop.

“What the…” Clara whispered.

Clara watched as the police cruiser’s lights flashed by. The sounds up front stopped momentarily, as though they were holding their breath. However, they were at it again as the driver-side window rolled down.

“Can I—” Marc said.

His voice was always dead. It was like a computer reading tax reports, using a metronome to time its cadence. Clara was forever unnerved when he spoke and suspected that was purposeful. This time his voice was warm and dynamic even if it was a tad formal.

“Licence and—” the officer said. “What are you doing?!”

The loud slurping ceased, followed by Evelyn shifting her position, presumably to look up. Clara could imagine the look on the officer’s face as he realised there had been a head bobbing up and down so near to the driver’s crotch.

“Helping, mon homme to relax, officer,” Evelyn said in those musical tones.

There was something else behind those words. While immune, Clara suspected the vampiric ability of suggestion would have a powerful effect on the officer.

“Please cover yourself up, madame,” the officer said.

“But I didn’t want to get my dress dirt—” Evelyn protested.

Clara imagined Evelyn topless and pouting. She would find it difficult to say no, even without the subconscious nudge. Still, this man was not buying any of it. That’s rather peculiar…

“Madame, I will not repeat myself,” the officer said.

“Of course,” Evelyn said in a tone oozing with disappointment.

“May I see your identification,” Marc asked.

“I’ll be asking the questions—” the officer barked.

The driver’s side door opened violently, followed by a heavy impact. The officer, caught unawares, dropped like a stone, winded. As Marc left the vehicle, Evelyn took up his place behind the wheel and adjusted the seat.

“The badge was a fake,” Evelyn explained. “Come on up.”

The truth of that statement was entirely irrelevant, and Clara knew that. In less than a minute, these two concocted a plan with several layers of depth. Had Evelyn’s part worked, they would have driven off without incident. Sure the officer would brag about this unusual stop where he let them off with a warning, but that would have been the end of it.

That interaction gave Marc the opportunity to assess the threat while the officer was otherwise distracted. He determined the officer was a fraud and took action. Clara did not know what would happen next but doubted the man or that car would be seen again.

As a precaution, Clara took on her plain Jane persona before pushing forward. There was no sign of the officer or Marc, although those lights continued to brighten the night sky. She suspected the elder had used a burst of speed to avoid being seen.

“So, should I be jealous?” Clara teased as they left Marc behind to deal with this mess.

“Non,” Evelyn said dryly. “It reminded me why I gave up on men centuries ago.”

“Are we burned?” Clara asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Are we still headed home?”

“Oh,” Evelyn said. “Indirectly. Marc was already taking the scenic route to avoid giving away our destination. We were actually heading away from where we intended to be.”

That made sense; last night’s sleepover permitted Marc to create a plan that accommodated an evolving threat. If things got too hot to handle, she suspected they would have stayed back at that cache and eventually found their way to a safe house. My knees would have been sore after spending a couple of days on that floor…

These additional precautions served to confuse the enemy. There might even be a vehicle transfer or two along the way. The difference was, these cars existed solely for this task, complete with fake registrations. The last thing they would want is to be pulled over for having stolen plates.

“Do you think that was a random patrol?” Clara asked.

Evelyn nodded and confirmed her hunch. Their opponent did not know where Clara was, or even if she was alive. However, when a patrol failed to report back, that might narrow their search.

“They took a big risk coming after us,” Evelyn said. “This requires we respond in kind.”

With those words, another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Evelyn had mentioned being at odds with others of her kind. However, retaliation meant this was not a mild disagreement… They are at war.

“Do you need me to—”

“Non,” Evelyn replied. “Marc will make sure several patrols go missing. Meanwhile, I’ll leverage some contacts to leak sensitive information to the media. The ensuing scandal might force key players to back off temporarily.”

“I feel like a minnow swimming aimlessly in the ocean,” Clara said.

Evelyn giggled before replying, “You’re more important than you imagine. However, we really need to bring you up to speed.”

“On that, we both agree,” Clara said grimly.

From her point of view, she had just landed on Juno Beach on D-Day after binge drinking the night before. She faced a fierce battle, people were dying, and she just remembered she forgot to pack ammunition before getting on the landing craft. I’m utterly out of my depth…

* * * *

Clara’s hunch was proved correct. They switched vehicles three times with cars noteworthy only for their commonality and changed direction every time. No one would ever give us a second look while driving these.

Since Evelyn was driving, the conversation was kept to a minimum. Clara focused on the road ahead and commandeered the passenger-side mirror to monitor traffic behind them. Even within the city centre, the streets were quiet, but that changed as the city began to wake.

Evelyn had an uncanny ability to tell where the sun was. However, she drove on as though a very real threat was not about to peek over the horizon.

Much had changed since she was last here. Although, she supposed that was true for any urban centre after a century of development. As they drove over a crooked bridge, Evelyn mentioned that the old city was known for its touristic charm.

The old city was most likely where she met Evelyn for the first time. The very spot where she rid the world of a monster that preyed on ladies of the night. That singular act remained a point of pride for her.

They drove on into the newer core; an area filled with highrises. Clara remained vigilant, but the increase in traffic did set her mind at ease. However, she did not consider how witnesses might actually encourage an attack. To make such a move in public would ensure Clara ended up front and centre on the evening news.

Evelyn’s old home was within the confines of an abandoned fallout shelter. Their new home turned out to be a tower and appeared to be a new construction, she concluded after spotting the crane affixed.

As they approached the parkade, the doors opened automatically. Evelyn went into the heart of the building and drove down three levels until they reached the end of the line. Clara noted the other parked cars were covered in dust. An undesirable location for guests and tenants.

There was an elevator next to their parking lot with an ‘Out of Order’ sign posted on the doors. As Clara exited the vehicle, she spotted several large pipes fitted with massive sprinkler heads. This parking garage, like the rest of the building, was fashioned from concrete and steel. That’s an awful lot of water flow for a place that won’t burn so easily.

Evelyn looked up at where Clara was staring and caught on.

“Those are there in case vehicles catch fire,” Evelyn said.

“That’s going to flood the level,” Clara said.

“Very astute of you, ma chère,” Evelyn replied. “Marc wanted a way to seal off our main entrance in cases of an attack.”

Flooding made sense. Humans would need to bring in diving gear to reach the elevator shaft. While vampires were unaffected, she was certain there were contingencies put into place to deal with that scenario. Marc has always been paranoid about security.

“It’s cheaper than bringing the building down on their heads,” Clara mused.

“It also raised fewer red flags from engineers and building inspectors,” Evelyn added.

Clara followed Evelyn to the service elevator. Given the remoteness of this place, she reverted to her natural form and was thankful the sisters remained silent.

The doors slid open as they approached. On the other side, there was a roomy elevator with polished steel handrails and modern fixtures. Clara often thought of Evelyn as the embodiment of luxury and wealth. Albeit, that association stemmed mostly from all the outfits she wore. Their last home was more cosy than luxurious.

While clean, shiny, and new, this elevator did not stick out in the slightest. Where’s the pizazz? Of course, Marc would prioritise function over fashion, which certainly explained the disconnect. Those two are like night and day.

They boarded the elevator; the doors closed smoothly behind them, and the car shot up. There were no controls within the cabin, implying the system was automated and aware of Evelyn’s presence. This thing makes an express elevator look slow!

“Welcome to my home,” Evelyn chimed after the elevator doors slid open.

Clara backed up while her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. Directly ahead, there were large windows that gave a full view of the rising sun. Evelyn stood there, as though there was nothing wrong with a vampire walking out into the sunlight.

“What?” Evelyn asked, furrowing her brow and emphasising the word with her hands.

Without a response, Evelyn turned around and realised what was going through Clara’s mind. Vampires exposed to direct sunlight were known for rapid deflagration. From the hunter’s point of view, the fire suppression system should have kicked in the moment those doors opened.

“Oh!” Evelyn exclaimed before giggling. “That’s the latest in commercial display technology. The wall is an array of seamlessly connected large screen displays. They can show us a single image or be divided up as necessary to perform other functions.”

“So, that’s not the sun?” Clara asked.

“Well, a projection of it. I’m not a fan of sunburns…” Evelyn replied. “There’s a sister array on the other side, which creates the illusion that someone is having a normal life here.”

The arrangement created the semblance of living in a home without the risk of exposure. The same could be said for the view they projected to the outside world. It deters snipers, and it throws infrared imaging off too.

In exchange for security, they ended up with a breathtaking view of the city. She suspected Evelyn could switch it up and make it appear as though they were living in Paris or Milan. It was times like these where Clara felt out of touch with the world.

The room itself lined up with what she expected of Evelyn. The main living space was two storeys high, with the second level overlooking the main floor. There were leather couches, standing tables, televisions, a full bar, and stairs at both ends.

“There’s a commercial kitchen behind the bar,” Evelyn said.

On the second level, there was a lounge, filled with books, and more couches. Both levels offered a view of the east side of the city. Evelyn probably loves taunting the sun.

Beyond, there was a games room, with gender-specific bathrooms. That’s odd.

“This space was not intended for use as a private residence?” Clara guessed.

“Nothing gets past you,” Evelyn said with a giggle. “Once construction is complete, this will be a luxury hotel, complete with integrated restaurants and clubs.”

“Like The Grand?” Clara asked.

“Non,” Evelyn replied. “This hotel will cater to the elite, or to locals seeking a taste of luxury.”

“Your idea?” Clara asked.

Evelyn grinned. Marc would never sign off on such a public locale without a good reason.

“An opportunity, really. The original developers declared bankruptcy, and we needed a home,” Evelyn replied. “We had this space repurposed for our needs. However, the rooms, restaurants, and amenities that remained were wired with sophisticated surveillance systems. Nothing happens here without me knowing about it.”

“I suppose you plan to leverage this wealth of knowledge,” Clara said.

“You know me too well,” Evelyn said before moving in for a hug.

Evelyn looked up into those steel-grey eyes as though she was about to say something. Instead, she broke away and was back on the move. The last time she was like this, we ended up having sex…

That was the sheer genius of the plan. Information was power and Evelyn was creating a honeypot. While the business side of the hotel might never break even, the intelligence they amassed could fund a small country.

“Every suite has a dedicated bathroom,” Evelyn said. “Your room is—”

“My room?” Clara asked.

Evelyn giggled prior to adopting a warm smile. She genuinely appeared to be overjoyed that Clara had other ideas in mind. Again, showing the sleight of hand of a master magician, she unzipped her dusty dress and let it puddle to the floor. As those green eyes beckoned, she walked on toward their room with an elongated gait.

“I’m sure there’ll be an opportunity to sleep sometime,” Clara mused, mesmerised by the gentle sway of those hips.

* * * *

The session that followed a quick shower was tender and fleeting. Hot water and the stress of that drive home had been enough for fatigue to set in. Because of her wings, they didn’t use sheets, opting instead for the natural down covering she provided. Di Mi! I love this mattress!

Clara also guessed Evelyn was worried her sire had not returned. It was difficult to ignore that he was out there, risking his life to send their opponents a message. Clara was worried as well; she had rarely met an opponent who was so willing to go to war. They don’t stand a chance against him.

Evelyn appeared to be insulated from the urge to feed. Still, they were approaching their second day together, and Clara doubted she could offer a vein. The last one who tried would have been better off drinking battery acid.

That brief contact with a vampire’s fangs also triggered her failsafe. While she doubted it was still in place, the potential for catastrophe was too great to take a chance. It would seriously put a damper on our relationship…

However, her concerns eased once Evelyn’s breathing deepened and slowed. Given a renewed peace of mind, Clara soon surrendered to her need for sleep, thankful the sisters had not said a word in hours.

CHAPTER 10

SLOW-ROASTING GOEBBELS

How did you know that patrol was random?” Clara asked.

Evelyn sat on the couch opposing her, appearing as though she were deep in thought. The biscuit wore a form-fitting cobalt-blue dress. The top appeared to have been painted on save for a V that highlighted the sides of her breasts. Two slits also opened it up at the bottom, to give her freedom of movement.

With a bit of red lipstick, Evelyn’s dark hair and pale skin complemented the attire perfectly. Clara was envious of how fast this one could get dolled up. She doesn’t even need munitions.

“At the time? It was an educated guess. Now we know, because they didn’t leverage the missing patrol against you,” Evelyn replied. “They were well behind you when they got word of those blasts and it’s been silent since.”

“So they’re hedging their bets?” Clara asked. “As a way to make sure I haven’t slipped past their nets?”

“That would be my guess,” Evelyn replied. “Police are refusing to comment. They claim doing so would risk the integrity of their investigation.”

Clara grabbed a piece of toast and took a bite. Despite there being a commercial kitchen, it was not stocked. What she found were things Evelyn might enjoy as a snack, nothing that would qualify as a meal for the likes of her. This will tide me over…for now.

“So,” Clara said after swallowing. “They don’t know if I’m alive or not.”

“Exactement,” Evelyn replied.

“Their plan also fails if they overshoot my current location,” Clara added.

That explained why Marc was out there. One patrol disappearing was a clue. Whereas several patrols going dark over a wide area added fuel to the fog of war. Still, she kept that thought to herself because Evelyn was the usually bubbly biscuit that Clara came to know. Evelyn fakes it beautifully, but she’s worried and won’t admit it.

In the background a kettle whistled. Evelyn got up in a flash and literally appeared a second later with her cup of tea in hand. The water was just beginning to stain from the contents of the tea bag. I suppose she doesn’t need to hide her true nature around me.

“Information warfare played at this level has the potential to generate negative feedback loops. There’s a risk that their intended audience will turn on them and disconnect. All that’s needed are enough flaws in their narrative,” Evelyn said.

Clara understood all of those words but lacked the context to tie it together. This sounded a lot like propaganda during the Great War. However, this went well beyond dropping leaflets on the battlefield, or keeping a native speaker in chains to regurgitate lies on the radio. This was a massive and coordinated undertaking, the likes of which she never thought possible beyond nation states. She did say Ada’s goal was to have the government do her dirty work…

“There are those who believe you can feed the public lies ad infinitum and they will beg for more,” Evelyn said. “They even devised theories to advance these causes, such as nudging people to change their behaviour.”

“Isn’t there anyone who questions the narrative?” Clara asked.

She saw first hand the devastation wrought in the name of King, country, and faith. Those who were leery of taking up arms for the cause were labelled as seditionists and provocateurs. However, from what she observed, the youth appeared to be anti-establishment by default. Why are they not questioning what is going on?

Clara took a bite of her toast and realised she should have said yes to Evelyn when a cup was offered. It would have helped to send this down range.

“The internet created fresh opportunities,” Evelyn said. “Do you know how famous you became after taking on that werewolf in broad daylight?”

Evelyn kept her hands wrapped around the cup, as though indulging in the heat radiating from it. Clara had seen her do the same in the past. For a vampire, she sure likes to soak in the heat…

“I knew a video made it into the wild, and that’s how I got the nickname the Valkyrie,” Clara said.

Evelyn’s smile deepened, and those eyes twinkled, as though she was about to divulge a juicy rumour at the hen coop. She broke out in a laugh and teared up. It was infectious, and Clara could not help but join in, even if she was oblivious to the joke.

“Try an internet sensation,” Evelyn said. “Dozens of videos were submitted. Millions liked, remixed, reposted, and commented on.”

That meant little to her. Social media was still an enigma for Clara. She knew enough to scroll through her timeline, but not how to navigate its dark waters to gain meaningful information.

“I dare say that much of the public would recognise your wings. A smaller subset could identify you in the nude, without ever seeing your face,” Evelyn said.

Clara furrowed her brows and held her breath. She was unsure on what to do with that nugget of information. Lost in thought, her eyes glazed over as though no one was home.

Once she came to, she realised Evelyn had been hovering over her while snapping those fingers. Clara must have been out of it for a while to get that level of attention.

“Sorry,” Clara said. “That was a bit much to take in. Why weren’t these videos suppressed?”

Members of The Tower had always assumed vampires manipulated the news. How else could they keep their existence a secret from those they preyed upon? Of course, that assumes people want to know…

Evelyn meandered toward her seat. She then looked upon her cup of tea and must have judged that it was time. When she sat down, she brought the cup to her lips using both hands and took a sip. The long and contented sigh was both for effect and granted her precious time to consider the answer.

“At one point these videos were everywhere, which made it impossible to contain them, let alone suppress them. However, without fresh news on the Valkyrie to keep viewers engaged, they moved onto the next big thing,” Evelyn said.

“Why is the internet so difficult to control?” Clara asked.

“Now you’re delving into the arcane,” Evelyn replied. “It’s a massively decentralised network, designed to survive nuclear war. That level of redundancy gives it resilience.”

“And?” Clara prompted.

Before Evelyn could take a sip of her tea, Clara grabbed the cup and drank about a quarter of the contents. She smirked and blew Evelyn a kiss before nibbling on her toast, which was quickly losing appeal. Evelyn responded by sticking out her tongue.

“Do you remember the village idiot?” Evelyn asked.

“You mean that weird guy spouting off nonsense in the town square?” Clara confirmed.

“Most communities had one or two. These individuals lived on the fringes of what’s considered acceptable behaviour. Villagers let them be, because they were easily ignored and harmless,” Evelyn said.

“The internet isn’t just one community,” Clara said, “is it?”

Evelyn took another sip of her tea and made sure Clara saw her lick the side the angel drank from. Clearly the vampire was not holding back her sensuality, because the end effect left Clara very much aroused. What a tease she is.

“That’s exactly right,” Evelyn replied. “Now they can reach out to like-minded individuals.”

On the surface of it, Evelyn made sense. How would that change the playing field? Clara, who had three contacts on her phone, now realised how connected most people were. This was not a couple of individuals spouting nonsense in isolation, but thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Millions?

“It amplifies their voices,” Evelyn said. “Now a villager comes across a mass of these idiots spouting off their wild theories and thinks: Well, they can’t all be wrong? The situation related to your videos left us with a blueprint for pushing a counter narrative. There are always attentive individuals who spot disconnects. We need to create a message, with broad appeal, to build momentum.”

It was clear to Clara they currently had no control over the narrative. It was like a butterfly flapping its wings, hoping the breeze would force an elephant out of the way.

However, she had a voice and a degree of recognition. That might just be enough to get started. Play it right and we discredit them.

She looked down and realised her piece of toast was stone cold. The sight of that congealed butter on top made her stomach churn. I guess I’m done with breakfast…

“Let’s get you ready for a night on the town,” Evelyn said after noticing Clara needed more than buttered toast. “I know a great Indian place that will make sure we are not disturbed.”

“East or American?” Clara asked, to get an idea of what to expect.

Evelyn closed her eyes slowly and her face went neutral. She then opened them up and blinked several times before devising a reply.

“Society has moved beyond that,” Evelyn said. “So, I’m offering a taste of India tonight, along with a quick lesson on what might be inappropriate speech by today’s standards.”

“Oh,” Clara said as her cheeks reddened.

While she could block the physical response, Evelyn appeared to be dropping her mask, and Clara sought to return the favour. Besides, she could actually enjoy this evening more without having to manage every aspect of her behaviour. I’ll have enough fun dealing with the sisters.

“I owe you an awful lot,” Clara added.

“I intend to take it out of you…with interest,” Evelyn replied before blowing her a kiss.

“Sweet torture,” Clara mused.

“Isn’t it?” Evelyn replied.

* * * *

True to her word, Clara and Evelyn ended up at a restaurant in the old part of the city. While this was a private dining room, there were plenty of tables, but were all vacant save one. On the other side of that door, the restaurant was bursting at the seams with guests.

She guessed they were losing business in the exchange. However, Evelyn mentioned there were benefits to their arrangement. Namely, that their rent was discounted whenever Evelyn availed herself of their services.

“It’s hard to believe Drusilla went through all that trouble for me,” Clara said absentmindedly.

In her mind it was ridiculous that a vampire of such stature would take an interest in her at all. Stabbing her with a penknife never even slowed her down. It was no worse for her than a mosquito bite.

“It really isn’t when you learn firsthand how vindictive she was.” Evelyn took a sip of wine.

Evelyn had ordered the appetisers and wine pairings, but Clara had chosen the main course from the menu. The last time they met, this one had ordered everything on the menu, which worked in situations where trust was nominal. However, acquiescing control as Evelyn had done was a sign of respect and it meant a great deal to the angel.

“In fact,” Evelyn said. “Relations soured after I let you go for dealing with one of our problem children.”

“Let me guess,” Clara said. “She never told you why?”

“That’s a good guess,” Evelyn said. “A mutual acquaintance explained it to me, years after you took her down at The Grand.”

Clara took a sip from her glass and nearly moaned from this balanced and full-bodied wine. It had been a while since she last indulged in such a fine vintage. The last time she splurged like this was with Elizabeth, in celebration for finding a safe harbour in this modern world. Hope permeated the air that evening.

“When did you find out about Ada?” Clara scooped up some fried momos with a piece of naan bread.

“You mean when it stopped being more than rumours and innuendo?” Evelyn confirmed. “We were formally introduced in the seventies. We are both considered new to this life, so our exchange did not include our lineage.”

“You mean you didn’t start off telling her you’re the daughter of a king?” Clara asked.

She was genuinely curious about the inner workings of vampiric high society. The Tower focused on anatomy, tactics, and how to destroy them. Humans were severely disadvantaged in the conflict, which is why most hunters hunted in pairs, to improve their odds.

“A Duc, actually,” Evelyn said flatly. “He died in my arms, by my hand, but that’s not really the point. We are essentially children in the eyes of elder vampires. Hence, we exchanged first names only.”

“You didn’t notice a family resemblance?” Clara asked before further indulging in the wine.

Evelyn did the same. When she was about to say something, a server arrived with their orders. Both turned to focus on the new arrival as their food was placed before them.

“Vegetable biryani with a side, and paneer tikka with neera rice,” the server said before placing the plates on Evelyn’s side.

Evelyn said it was a dish made with cheese, and it looked positively mouth watering. She could only hope her selection worked out in her favour. Otherwise, she would have to beg Evelyn to share. She’d enjoy having me beg…too much.

“At least whores make some good money during such transactions,” Silver said.

“Chicken vindaloo with garlic naan for the lady,” the server said as the plate was placed before her.

Clara smiled at the sight of the food. The scent of spices permeated the air she breathed. Meanwhile, the server remained until Evelyn nodded, as though granting him permission to leave. The behaviour was out of place and Clara suspected this arrangement had been going on for a while.

“This was a wonderful idea,” Clara said. “Thank you.”

Evelyn did not reply, using the opportunity to savour her first bite. Clara did the same, and they ate in silence for several minutes. By the time the vampire spoke up, the conversation had faded to the back of Clara’s mind.

“You mean grey eyes, dark hair, and elfin ears?” Evelyn asked without waiting for a response. “That meeting happened fifty years after you died, and family traits carry on for generations.”

To be reminded that she was not unique in this world was a hit to Clara’s ego. Despite Evelyn having captured her likeness in granite, none of her traits were singularly hers, merely the precise combination of them. That’s why it was entirely possible to find someone who shares the same traits, despite being from a different lineage.

“Besides,” Evelyn said. “Unlike the genuine article, Ada was not interested in my advances. So, I focused on someone who was.”

“Hard to imagine how anyone could say no to you,” Clara teased.

Those words brought back memories of how tempted she had been as a human. Clara had been fucking men exclusively back then, but that natural beauty and vampiric allure were hard to ignore. Evelyn had warned her. Clara would one day wake up and realise she was in bed with a monster. The difference is that I see myself as one as well.

“You’re too kind,” Evelyn said. “As a general rule, most vampires are immune to my charms. It works a bit like your faith, meaning that only those clinging to their humanity are afflicted.”

“When did you meet in the sixties again?” Clara tested.

“Seventies… We didn’t…” Evelyn said.

Evelyn needed a moment to focus her thoughts. She grabbed the bottle of wine to refill their glasses. After filling hers to the brim, she took a few gulps as though to calm her nerves. That would fool anyone who doesn’t know what she is.

“There were no further sightings of her until you were back in the picture,” Evelyn said.

“Meeting with Ada was not by chance,” Clara said. “Was it?”

The vampire grinned. When she swallowed, she took another sip of wine. All the while those green eyes were locked onto Clara, as though relishing in being in the company of someone who complimented her.

“Looking back to that day?” Evelyn replied. “Given what I learned? I would categorise the encounter as an interview.”

Clara tore off a chunk of her naan bread and dunked it into her bowl. Evelyn continued to stare at her still, and Clara was doing her best to ignore it. Nevertheless, discomfort set in. This was a predator and Clara wondered if the food had lost its appeal. After a minute of silence, Clara decided it was time to broach the subject.

“Are you okay?” Clara asked.

“Pardonnez-moi,” Evelyn replied. “I believe it’s time for my main course.”

“Okay…” Clara said. “No worries…”

Evelyn’s smile grew, and those eyes came alight with hunger. As a human, Clara would have reached for her pistol, and she guessed Evelyn would enjoy the challenge. Vampires rarely spoke of their dirty habit, especially around hunters.

“I won’t be long,” Evelyn said. “I have a willing donor nearby.”

“As long as she’s alive and well after,” Clara said bluntly.

Evelyn giggled before answering, “Since when are you worried about bodies? No need to worry, I know how to show a girl a good time without leaving them with a handful of coffin nails.”

“Not too good…I hope?” Clara asked. “I’m not ready to share…”

Neither said more on the subject. It was Evelyn who broke away first, sauntering through the door and into the women’s bathroom. A moment later, a well-dressed woman headed the same way.

Clara had her suspicions this had been planned. That was confirmed when the volunteer returned with a slight wobble in her step, while carrying the scent of arousal. One of their first lessons on vampires was that feeding was a sexual experience for the victim. Three minutes later, Evelyn returned with more colour in her cheeks and some freshly applied lipstick.

“Hit the spot?” Clara confirmed.

“Simply decadent,” Evelyn replied. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“For accepting my nature.”

“More like I understand,” Clara admitted. “Is that woman why you never had a follow-up with Ada?”

The vampire was initially confused by the question. She consolidated what they talked about before being interrupted by her main course. While the link was tenuous, it was enough for her to bring it together.

“Oh,” Evelyn said. “I’ve said it before. Marc and I are not interested in dominating humanity. We’re fine with existing at the periphery. I further differ from his views in the sense that I love to mingle.”

Clara sat back and ate a few more bites. She figured the biscuit was just getting started.

“I stand by those beliefs,” Evelyn said. “Until the twenty-first century, hiding amongst the herd was the predominant ideology. Too many of us had been discovered and killed by mobs.”

“A proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Clara said.

“Better than hiding in crypts and whispering commands to a chosen few,” Evelyn said dryly. “I prefer to live amongst humanity, to experience their love of life and vigour.”

“I’ve seen it firsthand,” Clara said before taking a sip of wine. “So, now she wants me dead…”

“Sadly,” Evelyn said. “Yes.”

“That’s why she wants to drive me out into the open.”

She pushed her dish away, the emotional turmoil of her own sister dedicating so much effort to engineer her downfall was a lot to take in. If she had not been an expert at controlling her emotions, Clara would have been a sobbing wreck. Still, she needed to talk this over with someone who understood. It’s like I’m being held together with bailing twine…

“That she is,” Evelyn echoed.

Evelyn appeared to be waiting for Clara to piece it all together. Whereas the vampire had the experience, it was Clara who needed to make the call.

“So far, she’s been retracing my steps,” Clara said.

“Has she?”

“Yes. The first three news reports were from where I was born, attended school, and joined The Tower,” Clara said.

To prove her point, she pulled out her phone and searched through her image gallery. It took her a moment to realise the images were not there, because that device disintegrated on re-entry.

Instead, she searched through a Cloud app and found pictures that were copied prior to the incident. She tapped on the one she wanted, waited for it to download, and ended up with one she could manipulate.

“I found this in the hunter’s cache,” Clara said before sending Evelyn a copy. “Along with a journal that appears to be encrypted… So that’s a dead end for now. Whoever lived there had been tracking gates, hunters, and I think Drusilla.”

Evelyn did not initially reply. She focused on her phone, busy zooming in and out. After polishing off what remained in her glass, she looked up and smiled.

“I think they were tracking other vampires, including Ada,” Evelyn replied.

“Wait,” Clara said. “How would you—”

Evelyn silenced Clara with a kiss. When Clara relented, Evelyn called for the server. After a brief exchange they returned with a remote. She used it to drop a screen and turn on the overhead projector.

“You don’t have the full picture,” Evelyn said.

The image was now displayed on the screen. From Evelyn’s phone, she could adjust the view as required.

“See this dot at the centre? The one with all those strings and pins?” Evelyn asked.

“It’s hard to miss when you’re zoomed in on it,” Clara quipped.

“That’s where I met Ada, but there are no strings for myself, Marc, or even Drusilla,” Evelyn replied.

“That’s the same colour that leaves The Grand…” Clara said, happy to have more insight. “So, if I let this play out, will she chase me down?”

“That’s my guess.”

“I bet you she has traps for me at every major destination,” Clara added.

“That’s what I would do.”

“I need to derail this train,” Clara mused. “Save some lives and take the fight to her.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Evelyn asked.

“Can you show me The Grand?”

Evelyn smiled and zoomed onto a location in the Rockies. There were several flags and strings converging on that point.

“There,” Clara said. “The Grand. That’s where I died and earned my wings. That’s also where I ended her sire, and will be held accountable for my crimes.”

This spot offered more than symbolic symmetry. The Grand is officially closed to the public, so that lessens the chance of collateral damage.

“She’s going where?” Sparky asked.

“The hotel, you dimwit!” Ethereal yelled.

“That place is neutral ground. We’d still be walking right into the wolf’s den,” Evelyn replied.

“We?” Clara confirmed.

“You think I’d let you go in there alone?” Evelyn smiled. “Ma chère, I added my artistic flair to many of those rooms and halls. I know the layout better than your body—”

“Thank you,” Clara said before blushing deeply.

Before adding more to this conversation, she took Evelyn’s hand and kissed the palm. At first glance, this was a suicide mission, but she had ideas that might balance the scales.

“We need to create a trail of breadcrumbs for her group to follow,” Clara said. “Leading from my last known position all the way to The Grand on a westward trajectory.”

Evelyn zoomed out of the map but kept it focused on North America. Her eyes flowed over every major destination while considering the logistics involved. After her eyes fell to The Grand, she turned to Clara.

“We can manage that,” Evelyn replied. “Fill in the details later.”

“Good,” Clara said before confirming a detail on the map. “Can you still gate into The Grand?”

“Some gates were decommissioned—”

“How about the one at your old haunt?” Clara asked.

“It’s still active,” Evelyn said. “Why?”

Vampires also used gates that were based on Georgian technology, but they differed in implementation. Hunter gates travelled between fixed points, hence the need for the Terminus to serve as a junction for the network. Vampire gates switched destinations, some of which could not sustain human life.

Clara had come across signs for these gates before, which included some sort of guide that showed the order of the destinations. While risky, it meant covering the distance in an instant, while her enemies followed a ghost.

“Let’s lay breadcrumbs to The Grand and claim responsibility for crimes that coincide with my passing through,” Clara said. “Meanwhile, we travel south and make the jump from there.”

“I’m sure Ada would expect you to come overland,” Evelyn said.

“Meanwhile, you’re spotted several times in public to keep anyone from getting suspicious,” Clara said.

“Plausible deniability.”

“Exactly,” Clara said. “I think that’s a plan.”

“It’s something we can work with,” Evelyn replied. “It even leaves us with a bit of time to have…fun.”

“Naughty,” Clara countered, before smirking.

“Always,” Evelyn said before giggling.

* * * *

“What’s this?” Clara asked.

They just finished transiting through a room filled with steel obelisks covered in blinking lights. While the ambient noise from the fans had been deafening, it was cool as a meat locker.

“Marc’s office and studio,” Evelyn said.

“How is he?” Clara asked.

Clara had yet to get any news since they parted on the highway. While she would let Evelyn deal with the matter in her own way, there was a reason for concern.

“He’s tracking a couple of patrols,” Evelyn said. “It shouldn’t take him more than a couple of days.”

“That’s great news.”

“It is,” Evelyn said, and left it at that.

The office was barren, displaying a blatant disregard for aesthetics. The walls and ceiling were bare concrete, while piping and conduits travelled along the ceiling seemingly at random.

The desk itself was a dull grey and nearly blended in with the concrete’s natural colouring. The same applied to a row of matching file cabinets. Clara noticed they were all fitted with a heavy locking bar and hardened combination padlocks.

There was nothing on the wall, and other than a keyboard, mouse, and monitor, the desk was bare. Hanging from the ceiling, Clara spotted a pull-down screen. Given how spartan this room was, the black tripod and stool nearby stuck out.

This place had a decidedly melancholic feel. The decor actively leeched joy from the heart. She dreaded the thought of working from within these walls. Heck, she was surprised such a place could exist within Evelyn’s sphere of influence.

“Functional,” Clara said grimly.

“I told him depressing,” Evelyn said.

“That works too,” Clara quipped. “Why did you bring me here?”

“We’re here to create those breadcrumbs.”

“Are we going for a Dungeon Master feel?”

Evelyn giggled, using her surprising strength to pull Clara in. After getting on the tips of her toes for a kiss, the smile that followed appeared to be genuine. I would love for this to be the real her…

“I think you’re confusing expressions,” Evelyn said. “We know people who can insert background images and sounds to add authenticity.”

“So not a Dungeon Master?” Clara asked.

“Non,” Evelyn replied with a giggle. “More of a director.”

A bunch of videos from what appeared to be a bunker would be easy to dismiss. There were only so many basements that shared this look, and the same forces who buried the explosion would use that fact to discredit these videos. They even used such techniques in her time, studying pictures of known vampires to narrow down their search. However, in the Roaring Twenties it was more art than science… Unlike now.

“What do I have to do?” Clara asked.

“Get on that stool, make sure your wings are visible, and think over what to say,” Evelyn said.

While Clara moved toward the stool, Evelyn produced a camera out from the desk. It may have been last year’s model, but this was at most an incremental upgrade. Clara once considered getting this model when living with Elizabeth but could not justify the cost, especially if it ended up damaged on a hunt.

“What should I talk about?”

“Your goal is to draw out your enemy?”

“Of course,” Clara answered.

“You want people to open their eyes and see through the lies?”

“Ab-so-lutely,” Clara said like they would back in the day.

“Tell them the truth,” Evelyn said. “It’s time to talk about what hunters and my kind have been hiding for centuries.”

That was asking a lot from her. The Tower was veiled in secrecy for a reason, and every acolyte vowed to take the truth to their grave. Although, things that went bump in the night were more entrenched now than ever. Perhaps it’s time to reset the board.

Clara sat on the stool and tried a few poses before finding one that was comfortable. Meanwhile, Evelyn set up the camera on the tripod and lowered the green screen behind Clara. Last, the biscuit activated an array of lights embedded into the ceiling. It left Clara feeling as though she was staring at a tapestry of stars.

“We can use these to mimic various sources of light. It could be a desk lamp, harsh fluorescent lighting, or even a candle flickering in the background,” Evelyn explained.

Evelyn came up to Clara and gave her a hard look. After spotting something off with her makeup, she licked a finger and brushed off the smudge from Clara’s face. The angel did her best not to laugh, but a snicker broke through her mask.

“The last person who did that was my mother,” Clara teased.

“Hush, ma chère,” Evelyn replied. “I don’t need to be reminded that I’m her elder…”

That denoted beautifully how ageless vampires were. Still, it was time to focus, so she purged all extraneous thoughts from her mind. There would be time to laugh about their age gaps another time. Evelyn tapped on a button on the camera and a red light turned on.

“We are recording,” Evelyn said. “Start whenever you’re ready.”

Clara took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When her eyes fluttered open, most of that impenetrable mask was gone. If she was going to reach out through the ether to anyone willing to listen, she needed to be as true to form as possible. I’m not all right, so I need something to hold myself together.

“Hello. My name is Clara Grey. As you can see, I’m alive and well. Now, I’m here to tell you the truth…that you’ve been lied to…”

CHAPTER 11

SMOKE AND MIRRORS

Clara left her home and ventured out into the light. Now she faced a storefront on a street full of nondescript businesses. While the early twentieth-century architecture added some charm to this block, there were many such streets in this city.

“Right,” Clara said while adjusting the straps to her backpack.

A tiny silver bell rang when she pushed open the door. With the buildup of dust on the counter, this place appeared to be abandoned. Her body tensed, and her senses sharpened, but she detected no obvious threats.

Are you Clara?

The sound came from all around her. She concluded there were speakers hidden throughout the room. When they were not projecting a disembodied voice, there was a persistent white noise that hindered her ability to detect anything beyond this room. It feels like I’m walking around with noise-cancelling headphones.

“I am,” Clara replied.

With no defined origin, Clara did not face a particular direction when she replied.

Who sent you?

From her perspective there was an echo when the wizard spoke. The original message was faint and lacked any digital processing artefacts. There’s a delay between the input and output at the speakers.

She closed her eyes and focused until the white noise turned into distinctive elements.

“Alice Liddell,” Clara said carefully to appear as though she was speaking normally.

In slow motion, the human voice sounded like musical notes held for too long. In comparison, the speakers pushed out rapidly changing tones. She oriented herself where the notes were strongest. Ahead, there was an unmarked door. Smart, most would start their search through those double doors behind the counter.

As Clara moved toward that door, the voice gained in clarity. She forced the lock, opened the door, and found a stairwell that led to the second level.

She walked up the steps, without regard for stealth. If her hunch was correct, the speaker would not get the opportunity to figure out what she was up to.

Clara ended up in a room filled with electronics, monitors, and input devices. Even a brief glimpse at all these displays left her feeling overwhelmed. How can anyone live surrounded by so much information?

In the dead centre of the room, there was a man sitting on a throne fashioned from server towers. He was lanky, pale skinned, and sported a five-o’clock shadow in the early morning. What caught her eyes were his glasses fitted with thick lenses. I wonder if he ever leaves this place?

“…the wrong answer,” the man said through a microphone. “Wait, where did she go?”

“Right behind you.”

“Shit!”

“Precisely,” Clara said in a neutral tone.

“Are you here to kill me?” the man asked, afraid to turn around and look her in the eyes.

“Word is that you’re the one to see about vintage technology.”

“That I am.”

“Then, no,” Clara answered. “Since you already know my name…you are?”

“Zachary,” the man said.

* * * *

At his insistence, Clara plugged the radio into a dedicated outlet. Zachary said something about this being independent from the power grid. To be honest, she had trouble following him. There was nothing but static over the speaker until she completed the sequence to tune back into The Tower’s frequency. In my day there were dozens of channels on the regular airwaves…

“You’re right,” Zachary said. “It works.”

“Right,” Clara said.

She had been tempted to add a comment about his deductive abilities rivalling Sherlock Holmes. However, she thought it best to maintain a neutral demeanour for now.

“There are no AM stations left in range,” Zachary said. “But it’s picking this up just fine.”

“Right again,” Clara replied before smirking.

“That’s why you need me?”

“You’re on a roll.”

Zachary grabbed his cane and with strained effort stood up from his throne. Despite being a young man, his movements were rough, and the pain of each movement was visible in those eyes. Without that cane, she doubted he could walk unassisted or use the stairs.

“Let’s see,” Zachary said.

The man removed the casing to have a better look. Meanwhile, the narrator on the radio continued to read out numbers at a regular pattern and Zachary was clearly confused how that was possible with two blown vacuum tubes.

“This was sold in the fifties?” Zachary guessed.

“Twenties.”

“No way,” Zachary said. “Really?”

“I knew the owner,” Clara lied.

“Right…”

“I’m serious,” Clara countered. “Have a taste of the future in your home today,” Clara sang the age-old jingle.

“Okay… Well, vacuum tubes were pretty advanced technology for that era,” Zachary said. “Since two of them are burned out, this thing shouldn’t even power on.”

On a hunch, Zachary unplugged the radio and removed one of the damaged tubes. When he powered it back on, all he got was static. The narrator speaking through the ether had been silenced. He took away the magic.

Static remained when he replaced it with a compatible tube. He repeated this several times, by switching out individual tubes, but never got the narrator back. It won’t work until he returns it to its original configuration.

“It only works if the original parts are in,” Zachary said before furrowing his brow. “But…a broken tube should break the circuit. What the actual fuck…”

What he needed was information. Zachary removed one of the damaged tubes and brought it under something that looked like a microscope, but without an ocular attachment. A screen to his left conjured an image of the surface.

“What do we have here…” Zachary said after going over the image. “Have a look.”

Clara did as asked. At this magnification level, the surface was a proverbial city made up of silicon bumps and cylinders, all linked with metallic pathways built atop a circuit board. Reminds me of the inside of that phone I smashed…

“Let me guess,” Clara said, “that’s not something you’d find in use a century ago?”

“Discounting the size?” Zachary asked. “You wouldn’t find something like this until the eighties. In this form factor? Nothing that’s commercially available today.”

Clara stared at the man, waiting for him to add to his statement, whereas Zachary was waiting for signs of shock to wash over her face.

“Huh…” Zachary finally said. “This doesn’t surprise you at all?”

“Not for anything of Georgian origin,” Clara answered bluntly.

The man scoffed. Clara’s instincts told her the use of that name ranked amongst the greatest myths of his time… Like the Illuminati and Santa Claus.

“Georgians are a myth,” Zachary countered.

“And yet you’re faced with something that shouldn’t exist,” Clara replied. “So, why don’t you put aside your bias and wow me.”

“Fine,” Zachary said. “There’s some serious number crunching going on along these pathways. At first glance, I’d say spread-spectrum signal processing, with a chaotic waveform. Any noise I inject at the antenna makes no difference to the output.”

What was said meant nothing to her. It reminded her of a quote stating that any technology, when sufficiently advanced, was essentially indistinguishable from magic. From her point of view, modern technology may as well have been fashioned from the bones of fallen gods. Keywords and hand gestures are the spells and incantations of today.

“What about the message?” Zachary asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What does it say?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. I found a ledger that tracked it. The message first changed in thirty-two. Since then, it has changed a couple times a year. However, it’s not based on the original code sequence—this one is more complex.”

Zachary gave her an inquisitive look, wondering how she spoke with such authority, as though it was firsthand knowledge. I’m sure singing that ditty didn’t help. He must have decided it was not worth bringing up, because he returned to the display.

“Alrighty then,” Zachary said.

There were technomages like this man, a select few who understood that beyond all that flash there was hard science. Ultimately, this further distanced humans from their environment. The higher they get, the harder the fall…

“I’m certain these functions can be replicated using modern hardware. For that…I’ll need time and a lot of equipment,” Zachary added.

“Our associate will cover the costs,” Clara said. “You have an hour with this device before I leave. Coordinate with her—”

“The more time—”

“I understand this will create delays. However, we need the radio for now,” Clara said. “I caution you against reaching out for help. You may find that your myths drop by, curious how you got a hold of this item.”

“You—you’re serious?”

Clara’s eyes flashed blue, long enough for him to realise she was more than she appeared to be. That would ensure his silence, since it highlighted that if she was not human, then Georgians might not be a myth. Who will believe him, if he talks?

“Unlike me,” Clara said. “They’re not known for their sense of humour…”

* * * *

Clara sat alone at a patio table, with her backpack leaning against one of the legs. Meanwhile, the sun beamed down on her. Glorious, not a cloud in the sky.

The wind rolled in from off the river, providing the perfect mix of cool air to keep her comfortable. I missed being out and about in the sun.

While it was never spoken out loud, Clara could tell Evelyn was worried about her sire. To avoid dwelling on the situation, the vampire sought refuge in her studio, which left Clara to her own devices.

She drank from her frosty glass of beer and noted that it was covered in sweat from condensation. Two empty glasses sat on the table, along with the crumbs of what remained of her steak frites.

“Would you like another?” the server asked.

Clara looked up from her phone, over her sunglasses, toward the muscular man with sunburned skin and a trimmed beard. She enjoyed the look of him, and his cologne carried a subtle scent of musk. However, she was in no mood to play. A few more beers might change my mind.

“Yes,” Clara said. “Please.”

When the server went back inside to get her a fresh draught, Clara focused on her phone. Evelyn had given her this model, which was more powerful than anything she owned previously. That meant she could run the secure app at all times without sacrificing functionality.

The wily vampire had also shown her how to find videos in the wild. It took her no time at all to locate one of her street fighting the werewolf. That footage was often linked to earlier evidence that the supernatural existed. She did not know who the Ghoul Hunters had been in life, but there was no need to guess their fates after stumbling into The Grand. Most hunters would have prayed to leave that kind of mark when they met their end.

Clara was now familiar with Bealzabook, Twitcher, and Death Knell, among others. She now understood why so many were glued to their phones night and day. To compensate, Clara restricted her social media usage to a sliver of the day. You can’t see your enemies approaching if you’re always staring at a phone.

To her chagrin, the first video they submitted received a muted reception. However, Evelyn leveraged some influencers to push the content while reviving interest in earlier pieces from the Ghoul Hunters. That tactic seems to have worked, perhaps a bit too well…

For one, their reach was growing exponentially. Many were left dumbfounded that the woman who fought a werewolf naked in the winter streets was brave enough to return. Some complained this was nothing more than an attempt at monetising her fifteen minutes of fame, which was also the opinion shared by mainstream media. The last thing I need is someone else controlling the narrative.

Visual confirmation of her being alive meant the manhunt was back on. However, their breadcrumbs proved effective. They were leading her pursuers on a wild goose chase, ever farther away from where she sat. The authorities taking this seriously lent authenticity to their videos, which created a positive feedback loop that gave her a headache.

“All I need to do now is prepare—” Clara whispered.

Her phone vibrated, albeit not the one she held in her hands. It was the one she bought after a church fell on top of her. Clara reached for her purse and took out her second phone.

The listed phone number was not registered in her contacts, but it was familiar. This was a phone she left to Julia Black. The werewolf who had been released from prison two weeks ago. Either the vixen worked up the courage to join her cause… Or this is a call for help…

Clara accepted the call and placed it against her ear. She knew this call originated from a satellite phone and expected a delay. So she opted to wait for Julia to say something. We don’t need to cut each other off.

“I need help,” Julia whispered.

Once more, suspecting something and having it confirmed were entirely different matters. Actually hearing those three words strung together soured the contents of her stomach.

“Did someone forget to look after their friends?” Ethereal taunted. “Again?”

“I think they’re human traffickers…and there’s no way I’m getting out of this,” Julia added.

Even though Julia was whispering, she was on the cusp of panic. That additional detail did not help her maintain a steady heart rate.

The sounds that followed caused her blood pressure to spike. It was difficult to form a picture, but she guessed the phone had been tossed. While the footsteps registered clearly, some sort of electrical device had been triggered, creating enough interference that the call was nearly lost.

As the static cleared, something heavy fell to the grass. Her imagination filled in the blanks to create a grim picture. She had a choice, either disconnect the line after making it seem like a mistake; or ensure that whoever listened knew she would tear them limb from limb.

Clara rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the pressure before a full-on headache developed. There’s only one smart choice…

“Sorry,” Clara said. “You have the wrong number.”

“Wow. That’s cold,” Ethereal teased.

“You’re one to talk,” Sparky countered.

Her conscience demanded that she take direct action, but Clara needed to be smart about this. For one, she did not know where to begin her search. The nature of the threat faced was also an important detail. However, she suspected Evelyn could help.

Clara had to consider what was going on in her life. While admittedly selfish, her plan to bring this situation with Ada to a head could not be ignored. Doing so meant more innocents would die. Clara would also lose control of the narrative. I hate having to think before I act…

“Here you go,” the server said while dropping off the glass.

Clara looked at his smile and then the glass. Any potential for her to get in the mood was gone. So, she grabbed the glass and emptied the contents after several loud gulps. When done, she put down the empty glass and smiled.

“That hit the spot,” Clara said. “Cheque, please?”

* * * *

While waiting for her bill, Clara took a screenshot of the call log and pulled up information on the make and model of the phone. It was fortunate that her memory was sharp, otherwise she could have wasted the day to get everything together.

Clara: Julia’s in trouble. I think she may have been taken by human traffickers. I know you don’t care for werewolves, but she helped me save Elizabeth and that counts for something.

Clara: I’ve attached details on the call log, the phone’s technical specifications, and provider information. Do you know anyone who could find out where this call originated?

“My. My. Aren’t we desperate,” Silver said.

Clara pressed the ‘Send’ button just as the server arrived. She paid with a credit card and noticed that his number was printed on the receipt. I think Evelyn was dead-on about my natural self shining through.

Given her new priorities, she thanked him, grabbed her backpack, and headed off on foot toward Evelyn’s home. The wait is not helping my mood!

Under better circumstances, she would have taken a leisurely walk along these streets. The cobbled roads and architecture brought back memories of Europe and the time she spent there in her youth. It took all of her self-control to remain grounded. My wings would surely get noticed…

She passed a museum built atop the earliest foundations of the city. Clara learned more from a couple raving about it over lunch, and she made a note to visit when things settled. A quick glance at the top of The Tower reminded her of a power connector. However, she dismissed that thought as being the work of an overactive imagination.

Clara walked until she reached a street that led further uphill. She had to wait a bit, a delay brought on by a delivery truck and an inexperienced valet blocking the way. The language was colourful and included swear words in three distinct languages. If I wasn’t in a hurry, I’d be impressed.

“Maman,” a girl said. “Is this your hotel?”

That voice broke through her mind focused on the verbal fusillade. She turned away from what promised to be a battle royale and looked upon the young girl with curly brown hair and big brown eyes holding her mother’s hand.

This child was clearly a younger version of her mother. The elder looked up to the sign her child was pointing at, which showed the hotel’s name with gold lettering on a black background.

The mother smiled and kneeled to be at eye level with her daughter. She brushed away a stray curl and kissed her daughter tenderly on the forehead.

Clara never had children and knew it was impossible for her to have any. The Tower saw to that. Watching this heartfelt exchange made her momentarily question the choices she made in life. I wonder if I’d feel the same after hearing a child’s shrill screams, or entering a room they laid to waste?

“Non, Tessa,” her maman replied. “It was named after a famous poet. One of our ancestors.”

“Really?” Tessa asked.

“Yes, really,” her maman replied.

Meanwhile, Clara felt her phone vibrate.

Evelyn: Oh, non! I know someone who can help.

Clara: You’re the best.

Evelyn: I know.

The mother turned to face the ongoing drama taking place behind Clara. That smile faded away, worried that this disagreement might soon explode.

“Viens,” her maman said. “Let’s go this way.”

Clara watched mother and child fade into the distance. Soon after there came the distinctive chirps of a patrol car. Fear of an impending arrest took the fight out of them. Despite all the shit she had to deal with, her mind continued to linger on what her life might have been like with children. Di Mi! Like I need to add more on my plate.

With the help of an officer, the truck and car were sorted out. Now that she had a clear path ahead, Clara pushed on and took a left at the corner. From here it was uphill most of the way. She did not mind, because the physical exertion would keep her grounded.

The architectural styles changed as she moved up the hill. Some buildings along the water were centuries old, whereas recent developments in the area maintained their historical feel by integrating the façades into new constructions. It seems to work out beautifully, the benefits of modern construction with historical charm.

Once she passed the basilica’s neighbourhood, the architecture became more modern. This city had been through several renewal periods over its history, some more successful than others. It was not uncommon to find early twentieth-century structures surrounded by towers of glass and steel. While discombobulated, Clara enjoyed this collage of chaos, leaving her to wonder how this all came to be. The locals would say corruption and kickbacks…

She passed by a chain coffee shop, which brought back memories of Elizabeth introducing her to the modern experience. She confirmed there was no one behind her and slowed to a stop. Her eyes lingered over the sign, permitting the memory to wash over her.

“I miss her,” Clara whispered.

Clara was in a lull, so she ordered two drinks. They would still be hot when she reached Evelyn to discuss what was going on with Julia.

While waiting for her order, another message came in. She was shown a map preview. At the default scale it might as well have been in Antarctica. There were few roads, and only one settlement was visible.

Evelyn: The site is remote and hard for a to get to.

Clara tapped on the map, and the associated application took over. She noticed there were aerial shots available and selected that view. The area was surrounded by woods, nearly unbroken in every direction for hundreds of kilometres. Julia’s call was not that far from the settlement…

Evelyn: My contact also sent me this.

It was a link to a Wiki about a war-time internment camp. Several buildings were pictured, giving her an idea of what to look for. She switched to the map view and found a greyed-out area that was often associated with government property nearby. That can’t be a coincidence.

Clara: Doesn’t look good.

She zoomed out for a bird’s-eye view and realised she was a couple days away by car. With an arsenal at her disposal, she could clear out the infestation in a snap.

Clara: I’m close enough to get there tomorrow.

Evelyn: I could send Grace.

Clara doubted Grace was any closer. The angel compared the distances on the map and determined that she was still easily a half-day closer.

Clara: I’m closer.

Evelyn: Think big picture. Talk?

Clara: On the way. ETA ten minutes.

* * * *

“I could be there tomorrow!” Clara shouted from within the depths of the lounge area.

They had been going around the buoy for the better part of an hour. Clara pushed for immediate action, while Evelyn tried to bring the situation to a simmer until they knew more. Meanwhile, Julia was in trouble, and nothing was being done to rescue her.

This time Evelyn backed away, because Clara’s eyes were glowing. She may not have seen what Clara could do when charged, but she knew well enough to de-escalate the situation.

“What then?” Evelyn asked.

This response was entirely new. Clara furrowed her brow, paused, and thought over what she missed. She can’t be asking something so obvious.

“I’m going to war,” Clara said. “None of those bastards will be left alive by morning.”

“Are you?” Evelyn asked.

Evelyn glanced at the two cups of coffee Clara brought in on the way here. When Clara had placed them on the table, steam rose through the vents, but that was a long time ago.

“I could never leave those monsters alive to prey on other women,” Clara said.

“Monsters…” Evelyn repeated. “What do you know about them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are they vampires?”

Clara had no way of knowing for sure, but that call was made in broad daylight. There were several sounds associated with a forest on the audio, including rustling leaves. Vampires would not be outside in a forest during the day. Although, their agents might…

“Not directly,” Clara answered.

“That’s fair,” Evelyn said. “Do you think these monsters might be werewolves?”

As though sensing that Clara would need a bit to digest that question, Evelyn grabbed the cups and went into the kitchen. She looked at the labels and smiled. Clara knew her drink choice by heart. A brow rose by a hair’s width when she realised that Clara and Elizabeth had the same favourite drink. Instead of reacting, she dumped the contents into the sink. The aromatic scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves faded away.

“I…” Clara said.

There was nothing to show these were werewolves. However, Clara knew they could sniff each other out and were intolerant of members from rival packs. Still, that’s not much to work with.

“Doubtful,” Clara finally answered.

“So, we are two-and-oh on a threat,” Evelyn said through the kitchen window as the water washed away the evidence of Clara’s divided affections. “What about ghosts, or ghouls? What are the odds?”

“I don’t…know,” Clara said.

“Exactly,” Evelyn replied in a neutral manner, desperate to avoid the I-told-you-so tone. “Have you considered that these monsters might be human?”

That was an important distinction, because hunters did not take human life. Clara had dutifully kept her word until the incident at the cemetery. While an act of mercy, she still hated herself for crossing that line at all. Guilt for ending a life that no right-minded individual would wish to live through…

She could easily take on a company of soldiers with all her skills and training. However, hunters did not fight wars. Nor were they the judge or jury at a trial. So, what gave her the right to be the executioner? I could never be sure they were guilty of anything more than securing the perimeter.

“What about the bulls?” Evelyn asked.

Evelyn moved nearer to the doorway. She leaned up against the side of the frame, observing the angel and the conflicts swirling around in that head.

That forced Clara to realise the complexity of this situation. It’s hard to believe no one knows this camp was repurposed…

The most obvious answer to that question implied the local constabulary were in on it. The implications of that truth were massive. Am I capable of killing a dirty cop? How do I tell the good from the bad?

“I get it,” Evelyn said. “You instinctively need to do what is right.”

“She’s in trouble,” Clara whined.

Evelyn took a few steps toward Clara. Without opposition, she closed the gap between them until she stood toe-to-toe. Only then did she stare into those steel-grey eyes.

“I know she is,” Evelyn said. “The uncertainty crushes your heart and leaves you vulnerable.”

“How do you do it?” Clara asked.

“I try to temper my emotions with reasoned thoughts,” Evelyn said. “Marc and I often work a plan out together. He is the reasoned mind, and I’m the heart…”

There were too many moving pieces for Clara to understand the whole. However, there was wisdom to those words, and Clara seldom had to look beyond the next battle. While a loyal soldier, what they needed was a general. Can I rise to the challenge?

Finally, Evelyn moved in and hugged the fallen angel. As she often did, the biscuit placed her head against Clara’s chest.

“Let me send in Grace,” Evelyn pleaded. “She’ll get the job done. No matter the foe.”

“That’s a remote site,” Clara said. “Can she safely affect a rescue?”

There was a pause, as the gravity of that question sunk in. From what Clara knew, Grace was a capable agent, just one who appeared to be a teenage girl. Evelyn was knowingly sending her into the wild, a place naturally hostile to vampires. She also suspected human traffickers would love to get their hands on someone of that age. At least until they got a taste of what she is.

“Not directly,” Evelyn replied. “She can set the conditions for Julia to save herself.”

“How would Julia save herself?”

“She’s a werewolf…” Evelyn pondered. “How about a full moon?”

That plan had merit, although a quick check on her phone confirmed the next full moon was weeks away. It was doubtful they would keep her locked up in a tower until her hair grew long enough for her to escape.

“That’s a long time,” Clara said.

“Longer than your plan with Ada to run its course,” Evelyn reminded her.

That statement prompted Clara to think about their plan to take on Ada. There were repercussions that came with failure. Evelyn initially opened up with a similar line, but Clara had not been ready to hear it.

If she fought this war herself, she risked the truth coming out into the light. Such a blunder would invalidate their work to create a counternarrative. We’d be dead in the water after that…

While she loathed to admit it, setting Julia up to save herself had merit. Those ethical conundrums were taken out of the equation entirely. Julia won’t have to worry about the cops with Grace working in the background.

“I hate you right now,” Clara said before kissing Evelyn on the forehead with quivering lips. “I don’t like leaving friends to rot, even if it’s for the greater good.”

Evelyn smiled and pressed her ear against Clara’s chest. While that heart was racing, Evelyn pretended it was steady as usual.

“You’ve never sent someone to their deaths?” Evelyn asked.

“I’ve failed to save a few,” Clara replied.

“See, that’s not the same,” Evelyn said. “That’s why most hunters were fashionista martyrs.”

That explained why hunters had such short lives. It was easier to put your life on the line than deal with the loss of others. She had seen it destroy fellow hunters, and she avoided that fate by never dwelling on the past. Ever forward, never looking back at the havoc I unleashed.

Clara needed to make this choice but wanted Evelyn to make it for her. That would have given her an out, but this biscuit knew better. She wants me to own up to how this plays out.

“Leveraging the full moon to engineer an escape is a great idea,” Clara said. “Although, I hate myself for even thinking about it…”

“I’d be more concerned if you reasoned without emotion…” Evelyn said. “What are you thinking?”

The idea was not yet fully formed in her mind. She even hesitated to say anything, but talking it out might help her work through to a solid plan.

“These breadcrumbs we are leaving behind will draw in more than Ada’s forces?” Clara asked. “Right?”

“That’s a safe bet,” Evelyn said.

“Including the enemy of my enemy?”

“It’s possible—”

“Would it make sense to strike during the full moon?”

“I would say it’s ideal,” Evelyn said. “I can adjust—”

“Do it.”

CHAPTER 12

FULL MOON RISING

Clara was on her own for now. Evelyn had withdrawn to her studio to keep her mind off the upcoming mission. This behaviour paralleled what happened when Marc had gone after those patrols. This must be how she deals with stress.

Clara stared at the screen of her mobile phone, half-expecting the words to write themselves. She had been like this for half an hour, going over countless iterations of what to say. If everything went according to plan, she would be at The Grand tomorrow and bring this sordid affair to a head. When do plans ever go off as envisioned?

Clara needed to get this done, but she could not take the first step with Elizabeth. It should have been easy to confess her love or move in to kiss those sweet lips. I could never bring myself to do that either.

What was the cause? Take your pick. Elizabeth was another casualty of her need to push onward. Despite being content with Evelyn, guilt continued to gnaw at her. I just keep doubling down on my sin.

Clara laid the phone against her chest and sighed. She was sure attempting to do this in Evelyn’s bedroom did not help. She regretted forgoing the choice to have a room to call her own.

Evelyn’s room always carried the scent of makeup, perfumes, paint, and lately sex. The biscuit’s sexual appetites had returned with a vengeance after Marc’s return. While the man returned no worse for wear, Evelyn’s entire state of being relaxed. This was a clear sign of the effect his absence had on her.

In reality, Clara enjoyed the intimacy, because it took her mind off Julia’s plight. Her choice to extend the werewolf’s torment for the greater good would forever haunt her. The rest of the time she reminded herself that sometimes one had to look at the bigger picture. I really hate being the one to make that call.

She was happy Grace had taken the local bulls out of the equation. It was a ruse worthy of a vampire. Grace deployed a honeypot and several officers were caught on film otherwise engaged with Grace. That forced the constabulary’s higher headquarters to act.

As a way of passing on the good news, Evelyn left a copy of their local newspaper behind with the headline visible. In today’s highly interconnected world, it was quaint to see that printed news was still in circulation.

Clara shifted over to her lover’s side and took a deep breath. It carried the faint scent of vanilla, which put a smile on Clara’s face. Or did until her inability to address her feelings for Elizabeth muddied the waters. I feel like a yo-yo…

Evelyn’s message was already drafted and ready to send. It was scheduled to be delivered automatically in case she failed. If by some chance Clara succeeded, she would cancel delivery.

“Fuck it,” Clara said. “I guess it won’t get done.”

She closed her messaging app and went on to social media. Interest appeared to be growing over her videos. They posted a new one daily, laying a trail of virtual breadcrumbs that appeared as though she were headed further west.

Before every planned stop, Evelyn reached out to local contacts to get footage from inside hotel rooms. After a bit of video-processing magic, it looked as though she had actually been there.

The realism injected into them would hopefully deter nitpickers. Namely, those who were known for painstakingly studying every frame to account for local weather, ambient lighting, or details visible through the video to find a fault. Such fanatical attention to detail could easily expose them as frauds.

The response from those videos was something to behold. For her own sanity, she rarely paid attention to the comments. While she had fans and supporters, an equal amount were focused entirely on her physical appearance. They claimed to know if she gained a pound, or didn’t get enough sleep. Had Clara given these comments any credence, she would avoid the public eye entirely. I’d have to put a brown paper bag on my head just to check my mail. The things people will do behind the thin veil of anonymity.

What interested her most were the comments surrounding the numbers station that played in the background. Most were curious about the origin of the number station, while a smaller portion claimed the signal was entirely fictional. Of all the things to doubt, that’s the one detail that’s real.

No one appeared to have any insight on the station itself. While disappointing, she knew better than to get her hopes up with such a long shot. The chances of finding a still-living hunter or someone who knew about the signal were slim. Those who know something won’t divulge anything in a public forum and I can’t blame them.

After striking out, Clara plopped the phone on their bed and got up. She was alone, mostly. While Marc was lurking about, he had no interest in her unless they were sparring. Clara was always up for a fight, but Marc fought to kill, and she preferred not to have fresh bruises before her big day.

Clara unfurled those black-feathered wings and stretched out her arms. She had been lounging in bed all morning, so her muscles and joints needed a reminder on what it meant to be alive.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Eleanor asked.

Before uttering a reply, Clara focused until a bubble of time enveloped them. It was not as clean as the ones Eleanor conjured up, but she enjoyed the opportunity to practise.

“Time is relative,” Clara replied.

She turned around to look upon the angel of death. Every time they met, their interactions were more at ease. She hoped they were building a rapport. Although, she was not entirely convinced that was wise. Who wants to get too chummy with Death?

“It is,” Eleanor said while staring at Clara right in the eyes.

As usual, Eleanor did not appear to be bothered by Clara’s state of undress, nor the wings. However, she showed an interest in the bubble, which nearly covered the room save a few ripples nearer to the corners.

“You’re improving,” Eleanor said. “All of this without ambrosia?”

“You have my only source,” Clara said. “Speaking of ambrosia. Do you think you could make a delivery?”

“You mean Grace?” Eleanor confirmed. “That will not be a problem.”

Clara’s smile slipped from her lips, and her wings drooped noticeably. What else does she know?

“You’ve been listening in?”

“More like you’ve summoned me without being consciously aware of it.”

“I really need to learn to rein in my powers,” Clara whined.

“Unless you were looking to have an audience.”

If not for that smile creeping over Eleanor’s lips, Clara would have missed the attempt at humour. While Eleanor made light of the situation, the implications that the angel had been summoned while Clara was in flagrante was more concerning. That’s reason enough to blush.

“Well, I apologise for that,” Clara said. “I’d be careful about repeating this in front of Evelyn, she might get ideas.”

“I doubt she needs any,” Eleanor replied as though teasing.

“True,” Clara said. “You never had this problem with Hecate?”

“We rarely interacted,” Eleanor said. “For them I was nothing more than a construct. Gods quickly tire of their toys.”

“Do you miss that type of relationship?”

“No,” Eleanor said. “You make me feel like an equal.”

“I’m glad you feel that way.”

Clara smiled and closed-in her wings before sitting at the edge of the couch. It was a challenge to sit comfortably with wings but preferable to hearing the Sisters prattle on.

“Please sit,” Clara said.

Eleanor’s head snapped back. She hesitated on taking Clara up on her offer. The lady in white was not accustomed to being given marks of respect.

After a bit more handwaving from Clara, Eleanor did as asked. This was clearly an alien concept for her. One step at a time.

“Thank you,” Eleanor said.

“You’ll get used to it,” Clara lied.

She suspected Eleanor would never truly be comfortable in such situations. The angel of death had been doing her duties since time immortal and chatting with a goddess did not fit into her job description. They must have one hell of a union…

“Now, what can you tell me about The Grand?” Clara asked.

“You have been there,” Eleanor replied. “I am frequently there to guide souls.”

“About that,” Clara said. “Have all those souls crossed?”

“No,” Eleanor said flatly.

Clara had to be careful here, she did not want to imply this was a dereliction of duty. While answers were needed, they could not come at the expense of alienating an ally. She’d probably freak out if she knew I considered her as such.

“I realise this might be hard for you,” Clara said. “I’m not looking to keep score, but I do want to address that mess.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” Eleanor asked.

“We need to rouse them,” Clara said.

“To what aim?” Eleanor asked.

“We are dealing with souls, long dead, tortured, and lost,” Clara said. “I want to snap them out of their stupor and encourage them to raise hell.”

“What you want is a distraction,” Eleanor accused.

“That too,” Clara admitted. “If I survive my encounter at The Grand, I intend to use the opportunity to convince them to cross over.”

“I am not meant to interfere.”

“Says who?” Clara asked. “There’s nothing natural about The Grand.”

A hotel dedicated to things that went bump in the night, it was a mecca for torment and death, all for the sick pleasures of their clientele. Even with her training, Clara only killed Drusilla through wit and blind luck. However, escape was never on the table.

Humans were the main course, and that meant countless souls met a violent and untimely death. That leads to innumerable spirits that are confused, lost, and trapped.

“The gods, for one,” Eleanor responded.

“Gods should care,” Clara said. “I say it’s our duty to help.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Clara said. “Like we helped that poor girl who was impregnated and then killed by her parish priest to keep it a secret.”

There was a glint of light in those dark eyes, as though Eleanor harboured similar thoughts. Clara suspected the angel of death had intervened in the past, straddling that line to help a soul cross. I think she got burned and won’t do any more without securing support.

“You mean this diversion is nothing more than a perk?” Eleanor asked.

“I see this as an opportunity to repay the staff for a century of unchecked murder.”

Eleanor chuckled, imagining the havoc those spirits would wreak once awakened. Unless they burned themselves out, souls were like bombs, powerful and difficult to tame. Let them use up all their pent-up energy, then we reach out to them.

“When would you like the show to begin?” Eleanor asked.

* * * *

This was a first for Clara. For a woman with wings, manned flight remained a novel experience. In the twenties, she travelled primarily by boat or train, because aircraft were still in their infancy.

She did fly in a Bristol F.2 fighter during the Great War and then rode the pilot shortly after landing. However, this model of aircraft was something else altogether. Clara guessed her high-flying lover would come in his pants at the sight of it… Better than on my dress…

“The full moon is tomorrow,” Evelyn said. “You’ll land in the early morning. When accounting for the time difference with The Grand, that leaves you with plenty of time to get ready and find the portal.”

Given the need for concurrent operations, Clara was not comfortable taking Evelyn with her. Someone had to stay behind to clean up the mess, and the vampiric duo were ideally suited for that role. Keeping her out of the picture also meant Evelyn could deny involvement. That will shield her until another opportunity comes up…

“Thank you for this,” Clara said. “I couldn’t have managed all of this without you.”

“De rien, ma chère,” Evelyn answered.

She peered into those deep-green eyes and was tempted to stay. That the feeling was mutual made it worse. They remained like that for several heartbeats before closing the distance between them and falling into an embrace. While their tongues danced, the fires of their desires glowed white hot.

“Miss Grey,” the flight attendant said.

Alas, time could not be ignored, but their hands were interlocked a moment longer. Clara wanted more, but there was no time.

“From here on in,” Clara said, “I’ll have to keep radio silence.”

“I know,” Evelyn said. “All part of the plan.”

“I will see you again,” Clara lied, because such promises could not be made in good faith. “Goodbye.”

“Au revoir,” Evelyn replied and backed away.

Clara turned around and boarded the plane. The luxurious leather seating and lounge-style arrangement led her to gasp. I could have had a lot of fun here with a willing partner.

“Welcome aboard, Miss Grey,” the flight attendant said.

“Thank you.”

She took the nearest seat. Her eyes twinkled, in awe at how far humanity had progressed.

“Please put on your seatbelt,” the attendant added. “We’ll be underway shortly.”

Clara did as requested and sunk into the seat. She peered out the window, spotting Evelyn by the limousine with Marc by her side. This further reminded her that those two shared something that transcended love. Why am I feeling a twinge of jealousy?

* * * *

“I’ll miss her,” Evelyn said as the plane rolled down the tarmac.

“You can’t be serious?” Marc asked.

For Marc to speak out loud when there was no need, highlighted the importance of what was said. Although, one would think otherwise when they heard his natural manner of speech. Those words were always monotonous, and utterly devoid of emotion.

“What?”

She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips as though confused.

“She’s an asset,” Marc said. “Nothing more.”

Evelyn giggled to lighten the mood. While ineffective against Marc, it helped shore up her own mood.

“Have you seen her ass?” Evelyn said right before nibbling on her lower lip.

“That’s not what I—”

Interrupting him always came with risk, but she was not interested in hearing about it. They dedicated considerable resources to support Clara and Evelyn would not let him back out now without a fight.

“That’s not what we agreed on,” Evelyn countered. “You said she’d get our full support. She took a lot of heat for taking out the council and for springing that trap. Had either of us been involved, it would have cost us dearly.”

“So, going after the pack came at no cost to us?”

“I agree that decimating the pack was noticed by Ada,” Evelyn said. “Then again, so did our move against the council. When you create a vacuum, something has to fill the void.”

“What about now?” Marc asked.

Evelyn leaned against the side of the limousine and narrowed her gaze. While she could hide behind a flawless emotional mask, she would never outclass him. His mask created the illusion of humanity, whereas hers suppressed her natural impulses.

“You wanted Ada dealt with,” Evelyn said. “Clara will meet up with her soon enough.”

“What if she won’t kill her?”

“You think Ada will change ideals? That she’ll see the light and embrace her sister without using the opportunity to plunge a dagger through the heart?”

“You never know,” Marc said. “She’s a risk as long—”

“My lord…why didn’t I see this before?” Evelyn asked herself. “You’re jealous of her!”

“No,” Marc said. “I—”

All the signs were there, even if nearly imperceptible. His eyes had widened by the thickness of a nail, and he had backed away a quarter of an inch. That meant nothing for a regular Joe walking down the street, but for a man like Marc it spoke volumes.

“Mon cher,” Evelyn said. “I would never leave you.”

Evelyn grinned, before flashing that trademark smile. To confirm her suspicions, he backed away again. They may have been devoted to one another, but he always acted like a hug would burn him alive.

“Never?” Marc confirmed.

“Never,” Evelyn said. “We complete one another. Now, let’s get going before airport security asks questions.”

Marc nodded and opened the door to the limousine. Evelyn flashed him another smile and took her seat. While he walked around to the driver’s side door, she poured herself a glass of wine and sunk back into her seat.

“Never leaving you doesn’t mean that I won’t fall for her,” Evelyn whispered before taking a sip.

* * * *

The landing and ride to the hotel was a snap. Clara had been warned about travelling armed, especially when crossing international borders. Other than Father Michael’s rosary she carried nothing more than a basic clutch, and the clothes on her back.

All she needed was to wait for her at the hotel. When she cracked open the doors of her suite, the red light from the rising sun shone upon an old-fashioned steamer trunk. She did not have the keys, but the blade from her rosary worked just as well. That was a trick she picked up in life that continued to reward her into the next.

Everything she needed was inside. These models were common in her day and served as portable closets. The main compartment contained her gown, shoes, and a box for her chapeau.

Within, she also found two pistols, ten full magazines, and an equal number of throwing knives. Every weapon was sheathed or holstered, enabling her to carry them on her outer thighs. The ruffled lower half of the dress would conceal their presence.

While some preferred to wear weapons on their inner thigh to reduce the chances of discovery during a pat down, Clara found the loss of mobility problematic. Not to mention I’d end up walking like a cowboy.

One pistol found its way into her clutch purse. The other would remain on her person in situations where she was disarmed.

Included in the trunk was a ready supply of munitions to get dolled up, and a mound of jewellery. The first thing she did after arming herself was remove the dress from the main compartment. Since it was already on a hanger, she hung it in the room closet.

“So, why is there another dress in the trunk?” Clara asked. Curiouser and curiouser.

Clara cocked a brow and took the second dress out. The ruffled bottom was like the one she bought. However, the differences were not obvious until it hung loosely from the hanger.

“I’d be showing an awful lot of skin…” Clara said before smirking.

As she uttered that last word a piece of paper fell to the ground. She picked up the note, which read: They’ll be too busy staring at your bare back and tits to see what you’re packing.

“…which is the point,” Clara said with a smile.

Evelyn knew how to sew, and there was a room befitting a master tailor next to the studio. This dress was low cut to the centre of her back. It was also cut in a V at the front and stopped just above her belly button. Meanwhile, the sides were open down to her waist. This dress was held in place by two thin straps of material. If I wore this, I’d be entirely on display.

“The old tricks are sometimes the best tricks,” Clara mused.

She stripped to nothing before slipping on underwear. It matched in colour and the choice of fabric complemented those of the dress. There was no bra, but in the trunk she found a roll of two-sided tape, which took a moment to realise its raison d’être. The things a gal has to do for beauty…

She sat down and set up a makeup mirror. To blend in, her wings melted away until her shoulders were bare. Sure, she had to contend with the sisters and her makeup would not last. However, there was plenty that could be done with her hair and jewellery. I’ll just need to bring a compact and lipstick with me.

“What’s this?” Clara asked.

A note sat atop the items in her jewellery box, which read: Can I watch?

Clara smirked and pulled out her phone. After connecting to the hotel’s network, she made sure the phone was secure before making a video call. Funny, I remember agreeing that we would not make contact.

By the time the phone rang, Clara had it propped up to see and be seen without holding onto the device. She was impressed; while a flip case added bulk, it had advantages. I doubt it would have done shit to protect the device during re-entry.

“I missed you last night,” Evelyn said.

“Did you?” Clara teased.

Evelyn bit her lower lip and nodded. While she had a limited view of the room, the biscuit quickly took a measure of what was going on. That trademark smile fell upon those lips. Even from a distance she can make me uncomfortably warm.

“Thank you for the dress,” Clara said.

“De rien,” Evelyn said.

Clara chuckled, because this was more than ‘it was nothing.’ Designing and sewing those threads would have taken Evelyn time and effort. That was an aside to getting all the items packed, secured, and shipped to an international destination.

“Is there anything else I should thank you for?” Clara queried.

That question made sense, since Evelyn had altered the plans with nary a whisper. Clara’s instincts were telling her there were other changes that had yet to be announced. Evelyn is warming me up for something.

“I’m hurt,” Evelyn said before pouting. “I just wanted to watch.”

“If that were true,” Clara countered, “you could have just tapped into the camera feeds. This place is so heavily bugged that you’d need to strip the room down the studs to get them all.”

There was a pause, so Clara made use of the opportunity to rifle through her jewellery. Many of the pieces appeared to be authentic, but most were clever fakes. Her pearl earrings were clip-on and could be crushed to extract the holy water within. Lace a vampire’s drink with this stuff and watch them smoke.

As a hunter, she would prepare for hunts by bathing in holy water. Every hunter could make their own, and bathing in it shielded them against the impure. As a fallen angel, Clara had no such concerns. That saves me a bit of prep time.

“You’re right,” Evelyn said. “We used that suite to get to know certain clients better.”

“A minute of fun, followed by a lifetime of regret?”

“Oui, exactly,” Evelyn replied. “Information is power.”

“So, what—”

“Check your jewellery box,” Evelyn said. “I think you’ll find something appropriate.”

Deeper within the box, Clara pulled out a long string of pearls. These were handy, since the wire binding them together was strong enough to double as a garrote. The last ten pearls on either end were locked in place, serving as handles to protect her hands. A weapon that is both fashionable and deadly.

Next she found several silver and pearl hair pins. Clara’s hair was at shoulder length, but she preferred to keep her hair out of reach before getting up close and personal with opponents. Besides, the fact her short hair complemented that dress was just the cherry on top.

She then found another string of pearls with an elastic strap. These would end up wrapped around her right wrist, whereas Father Michael’s rosary wound up on her left. There was nothing special about them, other than the potential to create a tripping hazard if she pulled them apart.

“Nothing unexpected,” Clara said.

“Really?” Evelyn asked. “Why don’t you check your hat box?”

Clara got off her chair and caught Evelyn’s wolf whistle as she bent over to grab it. The weight was roughly what was expected for a felt hat.

“I think I just died and went to heaven,” Evelyn teased.

“A gal like you would be bored senseless up there,” Clara said. Heck, I was bored.

“How true.”

She opened the box and found the aviator hat. Clara removed it from the box and gasped. There was an ornate pearl and diamond band with a white feather affixed. It was a stunning piece and further tamed her hair. When worn, her right ear would be covered by the feather. That worked well with the earpiece included in the box.

“You like?” Evelyn asked.

“I love it,” Clara said. “What good will audio do?”

“Put it on.”

“Cryptic as always,” Clara quipped.

She returned to the desk and her breasts bounced lightly when she plopped onto the seat. Evelyn eyed every move as though they were the tablets carried down the mountain by Moses. At least we don’t have to worry about a burning berry patch.

Clara grabbed a few pins to arrange her hair as a flapper would. After that, she put on the band and found it was snug enough to stay on without inducing a headache.

“It fits—” Clara said before being cut off by her phone.

She pulled down her notifications and realised it was trying to pair up with a new device. Curiouser and curiouser.

“It’s not just a headband,” Clara said. “Is it?”

“Accept the pairing,” Evelyn said. “That’ll make it easier to explain.”

Clara did as requested. The new device was quickly added to her phone. The pairing also led to a big jump in data usage. Well, that got my attention.

“There we go,” Evelyn said.

The phone vibrated once again. This time it was a secure message with an embedded image. It was a view of Clara’s phone with the mirror in the background. The shot had a voyeur feel to it, especially with her girls in plain sight. However, there was more to it than that… The focal point is around my eye level.

“You want to record everything?”

Evelyn giggled and said, “We agreed I should stay behind, but it doesn’t mean I can’t be there in spirit.”

“How?”

“Several embedded fibre-optic cameras that give me a three-sixty view,” Evelyn said. “I can be an extra set of eyes and ears.”

There was merit to the idea, since no one had eyes in the back of their head. However, this was the next best thing and might get her out of a jam. Sure she could fight, but this was The Grand, an amusement park for sociopaths, monsters, and the undead… Unless there’s something she’s not telling me.

“That’s the only reason?”

“Of course,” Evelyn said without delay.

“Okay,” Clara replied, since there was no point in pushing the matter.

She was beginning to understand how Evelyn played her games. This biscuit rarely made the call, but advised and nudged people in the right direction. All she needed was to show a bit of initiative to refine the course, and it was all set.

While effective, Clara preferred to take the direct approach, even if that came with plenty of headaches. Still, there was a wide gap in the middle, and it was time Clara moved out of her comfort zone. However, playing the long game in the shadows like Evelyn did was not an option. I need to take action, not just send in a pawn to do my dirty work.

“Have you made your last video?” Evelyn asked.

“Not yet,” Clara said. “I’m a little underdressed for the role.”

“Really?” Evelyn challenged. “Coming from the angel who fought a werewolf in the buff?”

“I wasn’t making any speeches at the time.”

“True,” Evelyn said. “Good thing I had them pack a long coat for you.”

“You did?”

“You’ll be turning heads in that outfit,” Evelyn said. “It’s best you don’t get posted on someone’s social media feed before you reach that gate.”

That was a valid point. Going from the hotel to the portal meant being out in public. Much of her outfit’s highlights would be concealed by a long jacket and headscarf. It would also permit her to leave the headband in place as well.

“It’s been too long since I went out on the hunt dressed like this,” Clara said.

“Not as much to worry about when wearing combat boots and jeans.”

“No kidding,” Clara said. “I could even wear body armour…”

“…but not at The Grand,” Clara said.

“Not at The Grand,” Evelyn said in unison.

Clara looked at the roll of double-sided tape and frowned. Sure it would look great, but she imagined the nightmare that went with slipping out of that dress. My girls aren’t going to like this…

“Any tips for the double-sided tape?” Clara asked.

“Get your dress on first,” Evelyn said. “You don’t want the ribbon sticking to the wrong parts of the dress or skin. There’s also a roll of normal tape in there if you want to make them appear perkier.”

“When an eyeful isn’t enough,” Clara said.

“Not when you need to distract the most dangerous prey.”

“Okay,” Clara said before getting up. “Walk me through this…”

“Avec plaisir, ma chère,” Evelyn said.

* * * *

“Are these are the kills for today?” Max asked.

Max, short of Maximus, was an olive-skinned man, with eyes that were black. This dark-haired man could have stepped off the pedestal of a Roman-era statue. His Latin accent was ever-present and while it sounded off to the modern ear, he spent a lifetime developing that accent in the city that Romulus and Remus built.

What he lacked in height he made up in bravado. Max had been concierge at The Grand for nearly a century, spent looking after guests and their exacting needs. It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it. For all the consternation he was put through, the Boss made sure he was richly rewarded.

There were fifteen bodies on the floor of the meat locker. Most had been exsanguinated, but a few met their ends in more creative ways. One particularly nasty customer loved to play with their food, and torment them like cats did mice. Room service always had their work cut out for them when Lady Bast, short for Bastet, checked in. Those Egyptian gods really embrace their animalistic qualities.

Ever since shutting down on account of the stock market crash of twenty-nine, they had to get creative in maintaining a steady supply of victims. They were lucky unscrupulous members of humanity could always be counted upon to set aside their morality for monetary compensation.

To get their supply, they were tapped into various human-smuggling operations. Sometimes entire groups of refugees, who were looking for a better life, ended up at the front gates. From there they were prepared as per their clients’ desires. Some were delivered to a room wearing lingerie, while others were let loose on the grounds below.

“Yes, sir,” the head chef answered.

“There’s two missing,” Max stated. “Wait…”

The concierge walked along the line of corpses and kept a close eye on a spot just back of their left ear. They all had a scar in that area save for one. Staff always inserted subdermal tracking and identification chips when the prey arrived. That enabled the hotel’s defences to trigger if they tried to escape.

He took a knee by the body, which was already stripped, shaved, and cleansed. They had clientele who dined on human flesh exclusively, be it raw, roasted to perfection, or left to rot in a pit.

There was no visible trauma on the body. However, those glassy eyes stared out into the void, and his head moved freely beyond where it should. He had been at this long enough to know the cause.

“This was a registered guest,” Max said.

“Sir?” the head chef asked.

“I can’t believe this,” Max said. “She’s at it again.”

He was referring to a child-like vampire who summered at The Grand. This centuries-old vampire had a hair trigger when it came to being called a child or adorable. Every year, extra bodies cropped up during her stay, courtesy of those murderous tantrums.

Despite the numerous complaints, her parents refused to deal with her behaviour. While that might have barred lesser members of their kind from returning as guests, the parents were wealthy and connected.

However, that meant another vampire was searching for their blood doll. This put him in the position of appeasing both sides, despite this child taking liberties with another’s property. The Boss will not like it if this gets out of hand.

“Sir, do you—” the head chef asked.

“I’ll deal with it,” Max snapped. “There are three missing. Find them.”

“Yes, sir,” the head chef said.

There came a soft tone in the concierge’s left ear. He walked out of the meat locker before the tone was repeated. Once he was in one of their many service corridors, he tapped on his headset.

“Yeah?” Max said.

“We have a problem,” Cecil said.

“Hi, Max,” he said, mimicking Cecil’s voice. “How are things?”

Cecil was the one they called upon to clean up messes at The Grand. He lurked in the shadows and rarely showed his face unless it was serious. This was the Boss’ fix-it man, the one who made everyone uneasy, including Max.

“Hilarious,” Cecil said. “The dead are rising.”

That kind of statement was not actually helpful. Vampires were undead after all, hence most of their guests either had a tomb or headstone with their names on it. This hotel also catered to plenty of things that could be classified as dead. Some of which we have no names for.

“Can you be more specific?” Max asked.

“The walls are bleeding in three suites, and power is flickering in and out all over. We have cold spots, shrieks of terror, and spectral apparitions,” Cecil said. “It’s happening all over the hotel, so it can’t be one or two powerful spirits.”

The Grand produced a lot of bodies to fill their clients’ insatiable appetites. On a quiet day, about ten unfortunate souls met their end, whereas larger events could bring the death count into the hundreds. Those Incan gods are pretty bloodthirsty. Given such numbers, it was safe to assume restless spirits were also common.

They had people on staff to keep them calm, such as witches and clergy. At one time they had a goddess of ghosts and spirits on staff, but she vanished in the twenties. When things got bad, the staff would clear out the area and let the spirit burn themselves out. They were harmless until they recharged, which took decades. Until then, it was business as usual.

“Get the staff to deal with it,” Max said.

“Can’t,” Cecil countered.

“Why—”

“One is dead,” Cecil said flatly. “The other ended up getting possessed. We had to lock her up in the dungeon.”

The Grand was known for more than its spas, pools, and restaurants. There were dark altars for every faith, cells to keep people on ice, and dungeons that made the Spanish Inquisition feel right at home. For Cecil to send a witch there meant the prognosis was grim.

“Got it,” Max said. “I’ll get the staff mobilised.”

“Thanks,” Cecil replied in that dead voice. “Remember to watch your back…”

Max disconnected from the call and double-tapped on his headpiece.

“Front desk,” the duty attendant answered.

“All hands on deck,” Max said. “Keep this quiet. We don’t want to cause a panic.”

There was a pause, which Max noted to address when things settled. For now, he needed to focus on getting this situation under control.

“Right away, sir,” the clerk answered before hanging up.

“I better head over before they fuck this up.” Max transitioned into a run.

CHAPTER 13

SELENE’S DOMINION

Clara had known of this portal’s general location since the Roaring Twenties. Even today she found it odd that it was within a train station. The same station she often used in life to reach several continental destinations.

There were valid reasons. People were here day and night, so hiding amongst the crowds made it easier. Although she wondered how some poor sap never stumbled onto it. That solution is obvious when murder is your modus operandi.

She exited the hotel car and buttoned up her long coat. At that moment, Clara caught the driver’s disappointment at her covering up all that bare flesh and chuckled. The man looked away when he realised he had been caught, as though ashamed, which further amused her. Clara was literally putting most of her assets on display. The next step from this would be to waltz around naked.

She was lucky Evelyn made the dress. Not only did it carry her scent, which Clara found strangely comforting, but the dimensions were precise down to the millimetre. It was as though it had been fitted by a master tailor, but without the detailed fittings. That biscuit really knows me inside and out…

“Thank you,” Clara said before winking.

The man said nothing, but Clara kept on smiling. With a scarf and dark glasses, she looked more at home in Hollywood than she would in a train station. Again, that was the point.

She walked through a set of doors and found herself at the heart of the station. People travelled in every direction under the star field painted on the ceiling. To this day, the large windows, stonework, painted ceiling, and intricate moulding took her breath away.

“Right,” Clara said.

As per usual, Evelyn’s instructions were cryptic. Apparently, the biscuit had never used this portal, despite living in the city for half a century. Clara supposed that was the side-effect of settling down and growing roots.

Either way, Clara was told to find a newspaper stand. One where anyone in their right mind would question how it was still in business.

The two on the top levels were out. There was tons of foot traffic, plenty of commuters and tourists looking for something to pass the time while waiting for a train. Right, so let’s head down to the platforms.

Clara followed the mass of people. When she reached a fork, the angel went where the fewest diverged. She repeated this process until she was walking alongside a handful of people. When she came across a newsstand in such an isolated part of the station, Clara knew it was the one.

The man at the newsstand paid her no heed. Clara guessed that the service was purposefully poor to drive off potential customers. She came up to the counter and pretended to look over the selection. It surprised her that the periodicals were current.

“I’m looking for a copy of Travellers with a Discerning Palate,” Clara said calmly, while increasing her heart rate to appear nervous.

The clerk gave her a casual glance before returning to his magazine. Her sharp eye noticed there were two magazines, one stacked atop the other. The one that faced her was respectable, but the reflection in his glasses revealed an awful lot of skin… He’s looking at pornography.

She figured his beard stubble and unkempt hair were all part of an act. For one, his clothes were tailored, the cufflinks were diamond studded, and his lack of heartbeat implied he was one of them. Affixed to his hand-stitched shirt there was a nametape with ‘Fred’ inscribed. I doubt vampires work minimum-wage jobs in the bowels of a train station for the fun of it.

“We don’t carry that,” Fred said.

“That’s not what my employer said,” Clara replied as her heart rate spiked for authenticity.

The man smirked, a sign he enjoyed making an overt show of power. She could not imagine a less desirable occupation for one of them. I wonder what this one did to end up here?

“I said we don’t—” Fred said.

“Do you want her to come down and get it herself?” Clara said. “I’ve seen people skinned alive for less.”

“Scram, lady,” Fred said. “You can’t touch me.”

Clara smiled; it was a sadistic smile that predominantly favoured her right side. When she lowered her sunglasses, those eyes flashed blue, and her heart returned to a resting rate.

“Who says anything about touching you?” Clara said flatly.

“Wait,” Fred said. “I thought you were—”

“Human?” Clara confirmed. “Guess again. Oh, the things I could do—”

Now that he found his motivation, Fred reached behind the counter and produced a long strip of paper. Like the ticker tape she found at The Grand, the locations were shown as icons, amplified by times using the twenty-four-hour clock. The symbols were familiar, including one for the freaking moon, which was denoted by the symbol for the goddess Selene.

She recognised The Grand by its unique location. A hotel built into a cliff with mountains in the background was hard to miss, even as line art.

The symbol for this station was centred at the top. Instead of a time, there was a number she assumed corresponded to a platform. This would be the only clue and she doubted there would be more along the way. Clara expected the opposite—many illusions and obstacles. Humans would instinctively avoid these measures, and Clara would have to use reason to get past the defences. She doubted angels were on the safe travel list… Or that my existence was considered when the network was designed.

With the information at hand, Clara smiled and walked away with the slip of paper. I’ll need my thinking cap on for this one.

“Thank you,” Clara said before zapping the man with a bolt of magical energy.

Fred writhed in pain before collapsing. While his hair was singed and smoke wafted out from his collar, this man would live. A body would attract attention and anonymity was needed to reach the platform.

To cover her tracks, she also zapped an electrical outlet. A lazy investigator might assume the clerk electrocuted himself by accident. Although she guessed that was easily disproved with a modicum of scrutiny.

She continued toward the platforms. They were numbered in sequence, so Clara knew she was getting near. It was time to open her mind and peer through what would normally be ignored.

“That’ll be it,” Clara said. “Well…that was easy.”

One side of the platform was sealed off entirely with a fence. She walked toward the barrier and saw warnings that the site was under construction. By any measure, this was a legitimate work site, but Georgians were not known for skimping on details.

She reached for the handle and noticed the large lock affixed. Clara ignored the lock and lifted the latch without effort before pushing the chain-linked gate open. Once she crossed the threshold, the tools and equipment visible from the outside were gone.

There was no one else here. Hunters had utterly depended on the Terminus system to travel from one destination to the next. However, this technology was analogous to public transit for the likes of them, and Evelyn said they were rarely used. Flying in a private plane gets you noticed, using a gate proves you aren’t worth their time.

There were two doors that led to individual bathrooms and another marked ‘Mechanical Room.’ While there were sounds emanating from the latter, none were the result of electrical or mechanical equipment. At one point she could have sworn she was lounging at some beachside resort.

She opened the door and faced the lingering odour of brine. In a matter of minutes, a new destination would appear and she just had to walk through. That won’t do me much good though…

Clara confirmed the time on her phone and realised The Grand’s gate would not be active for another fifteen minutes.

“At least I can enjoy the sights,” Clara said. “To think they used to say that only books permitted you to explore the world without leaving the room.”

To prepare, Clara removed her coat, headscarf, and glasses, and tossed them into a bathroom. This dress was designed to turn heads, and with any luck it would delay detection until she was better situated. Check out my rack, and you’ll get a nine-millimetre in between the eyes…

The doorway shifted as scheduled, revealing a rocky, crater-filled landscape. They were not kidding when they used the symbol for the goddess Selene on the list. She faced the barren surface of the moon, with the Earth hanging in the sky like an oversized blue marble.

“What?” Clara asked herself. “Are those bodies at the edge of this crater?”

Beyond the crater’s shadow, she spotted something man made. She had seen them in historical footage of humanity setting foot on the moon. Sighting a LEM in person was surreal. She counted at least two dust-covered bodies and a rover. Talk about choosing the wrong landing site.

“How did this not make the news?” Clara asked as the moon faded away.

Irritated by the discovery that this world was drowning in lies, Clara tensed her jaw muscles and removed the pistol from her clutch. She confirmed the magazine was snug, racked back the slide assembly, and disengaged the safety catch. Clara planned on keeping her hand within the confines of her purse as she crossed. Now’s not the time to make any assumptions on The Grand’s security.

* * * *

Max stood at the front desk, looking over the shoulder of an irate customer. This was the fifth guest who stormed in, full of piss and vinegar. The restless spirits were wreaking havoc, and patrons like this were making their grievances known.

His practised mask permitted him to act as though he was listening, while apologising throughout the exchange. The act did little to placate them, but it was all part of the plan. After a calculated period of abuse, Max would relent and credit them with a free night’s stay. That way they’ll blow off some steam and think they’ve won.

“Of course, sir,” Max said with a vigorous nod.

They had built The Grand into the cliffside that faced north. Building into the rock meant there were rooms free of windows. While vampires were their primary clientele for such accommodations, they were also popular for those interested in their inherent soundproofing.

Facing north meant that the sun was never directly shining into the main lobby or grand hall. Vampires were free to enjoy the view of the sunlight retreating without fear. That’s also why he was taking in the view as the sunlight retreated over the land, just as the moon peeked over the horizon.

“We understand, sir,” Max added.

Save for the four-lane highway that cut a swath through the forest, most of the valley had been left in its natural state. At this time of the day, the lights from the constant stream of cars twinkled, reminding him of a moonglade over the Mediterranean.

This was their land, which included one of the largest hedge mazes in the world, manicured upper gardens, and a fenced-in area that served as rich hunting grounds for their customers. A lot of blood had been shed to make this hotel a reality, but for a century they held dominion over these cursed lands.

“I’m sorry, sir. Did you say something?” Max asked when the irate guest stopped talking.

It took him a bit to realise that it was not just one customer who went silent. The entire floor was quiet, except for a precise set of footsteps heading his way.

He broke away from the view and scanned the gaggle of guests. Even for vampires, this stunned group was pale. The footsteps did not bother him, because they belonged to Cecil.

“Max,” Cecil said. “Do you have a moment?”

It took a lot to get a rise out of Cecil. Beware of the patient man driven beyond their breaking point. His voice lacked the even timber that Max expected to hear, as though raw emotion was bleeding through. To leave his domain meant the situation was grim. He didn’t even bother to call ahead.

“If you’ll excuse me, sir,” Max said to the silent guest, and judging by the gulp, he was suffering from a severe case of dry mouth.

Instead of responding, the man nodded and slithered to the back of the line. When Cecil approached the front desk, the crowd dispersed, and that included several of the staff. Even in adequate lighting, Cecil appeared to be sickly and pale. The man would squint as though his eyes had not seen light of this intensity in years. This was probably true, since Cecil was rarely on one of the habitable levels of the hotel. Why is his hair always so greasy?

Max motioned for one of the staff to approach, but they collectively hesitated. He made a note to address this at another time. I’ll give them something to fear more than Cecil…

He followed Cecil to the railing that overlooked the rounded staircases. Now that the sun had set, the entrance and driveway were fast becoming a hive of activity. However, he doubted the Boss or Cecil cared about the rats escaping this ship.

“Six ’Goyles came online,” Cecil said.

“What?” Max spat out.

That was the nickname staff and guests used for gargoyles. These were mechanical automatons that guarded the hotel’s perimeter. These beasts were massive, well over three times the height of an average man. In his experience, only one was required to deal with most threats, and that included the biggest and baddest werewolf ever recorded.

The last time more than one had been deployed was over fifty years ago. In the last few decades, werewolves were less of a threat nowadays as packs migrated closer to the cities. There was a lot of money to be made working as muscle in the slums or flooding the streets with drugs. Not to mention all those vagrants who happen to find themselves out on the streets during a full moon.

“The first was activated as the moon rose over the horizon,” Cecil said. “Since then another six—seven now—have been activated.”

“False alarm?” Max asked, doubtful that was true.

A blast reached his ears, the sound reflected from off the mountains and carried through the front doors. To the uninitiated it might have been thunder, but windows would shake during a violent thunderstorm. This sound was too muted for thunder, and too loud for something like a gunshot. That can’t be—

“Wall breach,” Cecil said. “Near the town ruins.”

Upon hearing the word breach, Max’s complexion lightened by two shades. Something serious was afoot, and it was time to act before this got out of hand.

“Fuck it,” Max said.

They were now beyond the point of no return. However, he knew there would be hell to pay once the dust settled.

He turned toward the courtier manning the main door. Nathan was one of the younger vampires in their employ who worked the night shift. Now that the shift change was in the works, he could count on a swift reaction.

“Mister Andrews,” Max said to Nathan. Once everyone went quiet, he added, “Lock us down.”

“But—” Nathan said.

“Now!” Max yelled, with this rare break in decorum and in doing so set the tone. “Sound the alarm.”

The act of triggering a lockdown would seal off all The Grand’s entrances and exits. The oak doors were actually wood panelling over steel plates. To enhance security, heavy gauge bars would drop in place to deter forced entry. You’d need a tank to put a dent in those doors.

Steel plates would also drop over any windows facing the mountains. All the perimeter gates were electrified, and staff would begin directing guests to secure areas deep within the hotel. However, none of this had ever been tested, so it was entirely theoretical.

“Cecil,” Max said. “Muster the staff into the armoury. I want them booted, suited, armed, and ready for war.”

“Atta boy,” Cecil said.

The fixer actually smiled, and it took most of Max’s self-control to hold back a shudder. He always knew that Cecil was the special kind of monster, the one who lived for violence and death. However, he never expected him to show genuine excitement over werewolves running loose upon their lands.

“Save that for the enemy,” Max said.

However, Cecil did not appear to be listening. The fixer was already headed to the nearest bird cage just as the alarm blared. There’s even a spring in his step…

“The Boss won’t like this,” Max mumbled.

* * * *

Clara found herself almost literally standing on the precipice. The doorway to this destination led to a cliff that overlooked a torch-lit cave filled with fire, bones, and blood. Xibalba? It was fortunate no one was nearby, otherwise she might get the wrong kind of attention. Talk about taking a right turn at Albuquerque.

She had seen this destination’s symbol before. It was said to be the vampiric equivalent of the Sancta Sedes, colloquially known as the Holy See. I’d need an army of angels at my back before I’d consider crashing that party.

Click…Click.

The next destination was underwater. Blue and green made up the bulk of the colours as light filtered in from the surface. This created the impression that she was staring into an oversized aquarium, including schools of fish going about their business.

“Impressive,” Clara whispered.

No gates from the Terminus connected to such destinations, and that was purposeful. Humans were not known to live long in hostile environments like the moon, or within the depths of an unnamed sea. However, most of them would survive just fine. That explains why their system is hazardous for human travel.

When the water world faded out, she subconsciously began to breathe again. The next destination was The Grand, and she would not waste this opportunity. The clerk would wake up soon, harbouring ill will for knocking him unconscious.

She reached into her clutch purse, as though looking for lipstick. In reality, she wrapped her hand around the grip of the pistol. If anyone accosted her, she had to react quickly.

Her intended destination came into focus, revealing a nondescript door. It featured a brass doorknob, fittings, and moulded frame. Right below there was a map of the floor, along with lines of escape in cases of fire. The latter confirmed where this was.

Above the map there was also a number affixed. It seemed odd for a hotel to show the room number on the inside. Clara suspected these served a purpose. The numbers four, one, and four were clearly visible in polished brass.

That combination of numbers took her back to the day she died. Clara found a list of gate destinations from The Grand, and 414 was prominently displayed as the origin. For a hotel that advertised three floors, that number meant this one was not publicly accessible.

“This is it,” Clara said.

Pop…Hiss.

She reached for the doorknob just as someone grabbed her by the shoulder. Whoever it was must have assumed she was human and would fall back. However, she released her pistol, grabbed the hand, and bent a knee forward to change her pivot point.

The change in weight distribution altered the equation. Instead of being forced backward, she drove the assailant over her back. All she had to do then was watch as the assailant flew past her and crashed through the door. Those cufflinks and the handmade suit were a dead giveaway for who this was. She did not need to read the nametape to know this was Fred, the newsstand attendant.

As a precaution, she checked all around her. She let out a deep breath after confirming it was clear. I never heard him approach!

“I don’t have long,” Clara reminded herself.

Since sneaking in was no longer an option, Clara withdrew her pistol and charged. It was a shame she was interrupted, because that might arouse a response.

Clara launched herself from off his chest, and in one bound was within the confines of a luxury hotel. Her entrance was louder than she hoped, but she made it. Might as well have driven an armoured truck through the front door.

With her pistol drawn, she looked down one end of the hallway, and then the other. For the moment, she was in the clear. There was no one running toward her, nor were there any alarms sounding off. Clara, like any experienced hunter, had trouble accepting the situation when everything fell into place, especially after such a spectacular failure of an entrance. Wait. Fred is still a threat!

Pop…Click.

She lined up her weapon with the assailant. Her assumption that the clerk was a threat was perhaps premature. Although a proper diagnosis of his condition became impossible once the gate destination changed.

The body had been straddling the doorway during transition. One second he was whole, the next his head, neck, and half his chest were gone. To make sure the two halves could not be made whole, Clara grabbed onto a foot and pulled the body away from the doorway.

“Oh right,” Clara said.

She took out her phone, which had yet to connect to the network. Evelyn had warned her that such a drastic change in geographical location might confuse the system. Since there were no mobile networks listed, Clara went through her network settings to force the device to scan for a carrier.

It did not help that she was still standing next to so much chaos. Based on the numbering scheme, she concluded the stairs on her left led to the main floors. That assumes they weren’t trying to deceive potential prey.

Instead, she went in the opposite direction. It was one thing to run toward danger; it was another entirely to bypass them. For all she knew there was an armed strike force in the back, waiting for an opportunity to attack when she was otherwise engaged with forces above.

The plush carpet muffled her footsteps, which made it obvious there were no sounds emanating from the rooms she passed. That meant no television, music, or the sounds of barneymugging. She found that aspect peculiar but had no choice but to keep going. I’m harder to find if I keep moving.

Hiss…Click.

Nearer to the end, there was a T intersection with more rooms extending on either side. After one-hundred paces there were openings to hallways running parallel with this one. This area is a lot bigger than I originally imagined.

She took a right and caught a pair of steel-grey eyes staring back at her. Her first thought was that this was a reflection. Although that mirror would need to shave off years from my appearance.

All the traits were there—the elfin ears, sharp features, dark-brown hair, and those eyes. It forced Clara to ponder her natural appearance if The Tower had not invested heavily in perfecting her beauty. Ada was a natural, gifted with what many would call the ‘girl next door’ look.

Her being was awash in thoughts and emotions. Before her heart went off to the races, Clara tightened her jaw imperceptibly to return everything to normal. This was the woman who launched a manhunt against her, killed Dora, and probably did worse for over a century. Still, it was difficult to ignore her desire to close the gap between them and hug her sister.

“Nice dress, sis,” Ada said. “Were you expecting to pop into a petting party?”

“Well. That answers where I got my rapier-like wit from,” Clara replied.

To prevent things from escalating unnecessarily, Clara kept her pistol at her side. Since vampires were capable of superhuman speed, Clara slowed time, just enough to give herself a buffer—

Her phone vibrated—those quick taps had morphed into two-second pulses. I wonder if that means I’m reconnected to the network?

“Movement…hiss…Behind…pop…pop…click,” Evelyn said.

Clara pivoted on the ball of her foot, but there came an impact to the side of her head. The hit sent her headpiece flying. She watched the white feather-and-pearl ensemble arch through the air until it landed at Ada’s feet.

There was a crooked smile on that face, as though everything had gone according to plan. Clara twirled, the world a blur until her head slammed into the nearest wall. For several heartbeats, her face slid down the hardwood panelling as gravity asserted itself.

As her mind checked out, Clara crumpled, supine, onto the floor. Those steel-grey eyes may have been open, but there was no one home.

“Free!” the sisters shouted.

* * * *

“Maudite merde,” Evelyn swore, frustrated that she could not warn Clara in time.

Instead of a live-streamed video of the hotel’s interior, it was a series of blocky images with a significant lag factor. The image would freeze as the sound went on, only to fast forward through the vital bits a minute later.

It was infuriating to see, considering how effective the Ghoul Hunters’ videos had been. However, that group never made it to the south wing, the one carved into the cliff. All that rock surrounding them made establishing a link to the wireless carrier a challenge. They were supposed to have installed repeaters years ago.

Alas, her warning came far too late to be effective. The irony of it was that the video’s clarity was flawless once the phone established a link to the hotel’s wireless network. She witnessed in stunning detail the headpiece separating from Clara’s head, floating through the air in a circular descent.

One moment the video was on Ada, in another Clara with the unmistakable silhouette of Cecil holding a bludgeon. This rotation was repeated several times in rapid succession until it settled on the ground facing Clara. Evelyn watched in horror as the angel crumbled to the floor right before her eyes.

Clara had been lucky, because Cecil only managed a glancing blow. A well-placed hit with that weapon might have cracked her skull wide open.

“Oh, non!” Evelyn exclaimed.

That outburst was enough to draw Marc’s attention. Moments ago, he had been in another part of their residence minding his own business. He arrived in a gust of wind, but said nothing at first, too busy taking in the situation.

“They must have expected this manoeuvre,” Marc said bluntly.

“That’s not helping,” Evelyn said through a clenched jaw.

While Clara was still breathing, she was out cold. That meant the angel was at the mercy of those two, and Evelyn could imagine few situations that were worse.

“How soon can we make it to our gate?” Evelyn asked.

Marc looked down at her and cocked a brow. She was familiar with that face, and it was never a positive development. Those half-closed eyes that were on the verge of rolling toward the ceiling. Normally, her sire would relent and let her indulge in her humanity, but not tonight.

“No,” Marc said.

Evelyn’s lips went white, and her eyes narrowed. Still, she was not about to let this go without a fight, even if a discussion with her sire was like pounding sand.

“We are going to—” Evelyn said and caught a stray sound on the feed. “Qu’est-ce qui se passe?”

Both turned to look at the monitors hanging over the desk. There were three new players on the field, and Evelyn had no idea how they got there. A quick glance at them revealed they were related… Or possibly triplets!

“Et bien,” Evelyn said. “Things just got interesting.”

“I’m not following,” Marc said.

“Mon cher,” Evelyn said, “meet Hecate, broken down into her individual parts. Or as Clara would say, the sisters have arrived.”

In the background, Ada shrieked and yelled out, “We had a deal!”

CHAPTER 14

FEATHERS AND FUR

Zzzzt. Zzzzt.

There came a buzzing from the depths of Clara’s purse. Her mind was in a fog, her senses muddied and disconnected, which left her unable to work out the significance of the sound.

Zzzzt. Zzzzt.

“What’s that sound?” Clara asked, as it echoed throughout the depths of her mind.

Her eyes felt as though they were sewn shut. She fought to pry them open, only to reveal a world bathed in white. Her head throbbed, like waking up after a hard night of drinking giggle water at the speakeasy.

Zzzzt. Zzzzt.

That was impossible—she had not been drunk in a long time. Her metabolism prevented alcohol and drugs from having a lasting effect. So, why am I feeling like this? Right… Someone snuck up on me.

She took several measured breaths to get her heart rate under control. After counting down from ten, she forced herself into a sitting position, letting out her breath the entire time. That gave her a view of the bloodstain on the carpet. It had enough time to dry and meant Clara had been unconscious for a while. So, why am I still here?

Zzzzt. Zzzzt.

That was a good question. Ada had the upper hand, so Clara should be in a dungeon, or tied to a tree in The Grand’s famed hunting grounds. Waking up here had not been part of Ada’s plan. Anyone who learned from Drusilla would be more creative than this…

Zzzzt. Zzzzt.

Clara’s fingertips moved from the velvet carpet to brush lightly against the side of her head. She winced on contact with the scab, but there was no trace of a golden residue. How long was I out?

Zzzzt. Zzzzt.

Her purse moved with the sound, so Clara focused on the blurry outline. The strap must have snapped when she collapsed. It was an arm’s length away from her. Clara knew she had to get on with it but lacked any motivation. The world seriously needs to stop swirling first.

Zzzzt. Zzzzt.

“Okay!” Clara shouted, winced, and rubbed her temples. “Okay…”

She leaned in and strained to reach out. Once her hand hovered over the strap, she pulled the purse toward her, thankful for the carpet muting the sound.

Zzzzt. Zzzzt.

Her cell phone was mercifully near the top, saving her the trouble of rummaging through its contents in this blinding light. The screen brightened, showing there was an incoming call. Clara was momentarily confused but remembered the video was being live streamed. My guardian angel to the rescue…

“Hello?” Clara said after accepting the call.

“You look like shit,” Evelyn said.

“I feel like shit.”

“I know,” Evelyn replied. “I’ve been trying to wake you for hours.”

“Wha—”

The word hours took her for a loop, even if all the clues lined up. While getting knocked out naturally resulted in a loss of consciousness, waking up safe and sound in hostile territory did not jive. In her mind, such a scenario was only possible if she had been out for a minute or two… Even then…

“Are you sure?” Clara asked.

“Very. I’d tell you to check your messages,” Evelyn answered, “but I’d bet you can’t read in your state.”

“Any idea what happened?”

She tried to lean back against the wall, but her wings got in the way. That was odd; Clara had no memory of reverting to her natural form. She focused on becoming her plain Jane self, at least for comfort, but nothing happened. Huh. That’s odd.

“I have an idea,” Evelyn said. “But…you won’t like it.”

“I’m in no mood for games,” Clara whispered even as irritation oozed from every word.

“Well…we saw three instances of Hecate leaving the scene.”

“You’re right,” Clara said. “That’s not what I needed to hear.”

As though on cue, the hotel’s main lighting flickered for several breaths before going out entirely.

“Horsefeathers,” Clara said just as the emergency lighting came online.

The drop in illumination eased some of the pressure along her forehead. Thank god! It was new to her, but she realised these were side effects of a concussion. When have I ever fought a war on my terms?

“I’m still here, mon amour,” Evelyn said.

Clara missed that last part. She imagined herself as an exchange operator, patching calls from all over the world. However, someone set the switch on fire, and she was forced to roll around on skates to tie it all together.

“Wha—sorry,” Clara said. “I’m really out of it.”

“No rest for the wicked.”

“Not even in death.”

Clara struggled to get onto a knee; fortunately, the vertigo she expected never materialised. Still, she needed a moment to steady herself. You can do this…

“Don’t forget your headpiece,” Evelyn said.

In the dim light, she caught the ethereal glow emanating from the white feather atop the band. She reached out for it and realised that was where Ada had been standing. That look on Ada’s face before Clara was knocked out confirmed there was no familial love left.

A part of her did hope to reconcile their differences. The oldest sister, Ada, had been there for them when their mother became ill. Without her sister’s strength, Clara doubted they would have made it. Ada had the choice of taking us in after she got married…

While that decision still stung, Clara realised it was her schooling that ultimately saved her. However, she suspected Drusilla exploited their disparate lives to drive a wedge between them.

“Thanks,” Clara said while picking up the headband.

She placed it on her head and took in a sharp breath. Horsefeathers! The band tore away some hairs stuck to the scab. That’s going to be a bitch to wash…assuming I make it that far.

“Ow,” Clara said.

“Poor dear,” Evelyn said. “Women must always suffer for beauty.”

“Still, it’s better than wearing a corset.”

Evelyn giggled while Clara, through sheer force of will, stood up tall. She wobbled for a moment, but soon found her balance. Since trouble was on break, she would need to seek it out instead. Besides, I would rather catch them unawares…

She reached down and picked up her pistol. Clara checked the magazine to confirm no shots were fired. However, with several threats lurking about, she decided pistols and throwing knives would not cut it. It’s time to arm up.

“Where can I get my hands on a blade?” Clara asked.

There was some mumbling in the background. Clara expected Evelyn’s sire had plenty to say on the matter.

“The south wing’s smoking room is your best bet,” Evelyn said. “You’re pretty close to it now.”

“Perfect,” Clara said.

* * * *

It turned out Clara’s assessment of the south wing was flawed. Just like four-fourteen there were other doors that led elsewhere. I should have considered that this place was designed to confuse prey.

“I wonder if they held a séance with H.H. Holmes to get the layout right?” Clara mused.

Evelyn provided her with the room number that led to the smoking room. This was where men would traditionally retire late in the evening. As judged by the tone, Evelyn was not thrilled such a place still existed today.

She opened the door to room four-thirty-seven. As soon as the latch disengaged, the door flung open, and a corpse dropped onto the entryway. In her current state, Clara barely jumped back in time to avoid making contact. That was close!

Her mind was slow at processing information, like molasses flowing in the mid-winter. She eyed the lifeless body covered in scorch marks and peered deeper inside, past the wood-panelled hallway into the sombre room.

There were another five or six bodies visible from the entrance. However, no sounds originated from within…

“Good to see Sparky is up to her old tricks,” Clara quipped.

That was her nickname for the persona that embodied magic. That was the reason Clara’s eyes flashed blue when her temper ran hot and fired off bolts of energy. Sparky was the supernatural equivalent of a hothead with a very short fuse.

“I would have called her Old Blue Eyes,” Evelyn chimed in.

The scorched walls, furniture, and victims were proof enough that this was no laughing matter. This was the persona Clara goaded to bring about Drusilla’s death. It came at the cost of my life, and for that they made me an angel…

This room was true to form for a smoking room of old. It featured dark-stained wood panelling, shelves of leather-bound books, fine leather furniture, a snooker table, and a stocked bar. If not for the brass fixtures and fittings, a jaunt through here would have been like walking through a dense forest on a moonless night.

In the far corner, beyond the snooker table, there was a wall covered in weapons. From what she could see, they all came in pairs. The visible voids were a sign that one or both were missing. They tried to mount a defence…

“Gladius, broadsword, rapier, main gauche, sabres, scimitars…” Clara rhymed off.

“Watch it, ma chère,” Evelyn said in those musical tones. “Marc is getting a hard-on.”

The giggle that followed soothed her soul. Being in a room full of the victims of a wrathful goddess on the loose, it was not the time to say ‘watch it.’ Still, she was thankful for the company.

“Funny,” Clara snarked.

She already had a pistol, so a pair of duelling flint locks would not help. She wanted something lightweight, sturdy, and useful in close quarters. However, the weapon she had in mind was no longer on the wall. I see their imprints from here.

“If I were a cutlass,” Clara mused, “where would I be?”

“Non, Marc,” Evelyn said. “I won’t pass that along.”

“Not a fan of my choice?”

“Ma chère,” Evelyn said. “Don’t expect a Christmas card this year.”

Clara raised a brow, sure that the penalty he had in mind was more severe. She knew he preferred sabres, which was most often associated with cavalry. However, his hand-to-hand fighting style was typical for someone who fought dismounted.

She grabbed a rapier just in case and held the pistol in her offhand. Hunters were trained to fight using a combination of weapons, but she never applied what she learned. I haven’t done this since training.

“Behind—” Evelyn said.

There came a growl, followed by a swipe. Clara dropped to her knees, and the feather atop her head moved. As she fell forward to roll out of the way, she reached over her chest with the pistol. With the barrel pointing to the rear, she squeezed off two rounds.

After the second round was fired, Clara rolled onto her back. She used her left wing to push off, which sent her into a pivot. With her back to the wall, she landed on her feet, facing the direction of the attack. At least she can’t get me from the rear!

Whoever attacked her was fast. There was nothing in her field of view other than the bodies Sparky left behind. I was being a dumb Dora, I never actually checked to make sure they were dead…er.

That brief bout with danger helped her mind to focus. However, this was not the time to pat herself on the back. Far too many were catching her unawares today. Clara scanned the area, focusing on any movement and looking for anything that stuck out.

In a dark corner of the room by the bar, there was a pair of glowing eyes. If she did not know any better, she would have thought they belonged to a cat. However, these were too big and far apart to be a household cat…

“Not that bitch,” Evelyn bemoaned.

At the sound of ‘bitch’ those eyes narrowed, which was followed by a low-frequency growl. Why do I suddenly feel like a chew toy…

“Oh non,” Evelyn whispered. “I guess Bastet’s also blessed with feline hearing.”

Bastet? Clara knew that name from Egyptian myth. The goddess of protection, children, and fertility, who obviously embraced the whole cat-goddess thing wholeheartedly. There’s nothing better to ruin my day than fighting another deity while the sisters are on the loose.

To even things out, Clara focused on slowing time around her. This power was associated with all angels, and she suspected it would help to counteract those cat-like reflexes. I wonder if she always lands on her feet?

To make things interesting, Clara unfurled her wings. Sure it was a stereotype that cats enjoyed hunting small birds, but what did she have to lose? Birds are rarely armed with a rapier and nine-millimetre…

“Here kitty, kitty,” Clara taunted.

The goddess took the bait and stepped out of the corner on her hind legs. Bastet transitioned into the pale glow of an emergency light and surprised Clara by wearing an evening gown. Given this decor, the two of them would have fit right in, except Clara had wings, while Bastet had fur, whiskers, and the sheathed claws of a cat.

Clara adopted a fighting stance, with her pistol trained on her opponent. Clara was a force to be reckoned with, at least when her mind was not clouded over. I still have ten rounds left, so let’s make them count.

“We can talk about this,” Clara said.

It was a gamble, but Clara hoped to reach the feline goddess. After all, having Bastet on her side would have been a boon against the top two on her hitlist tonight… Or is that first four?

As Bastet approached, her claws scraped against the wall, leaving gouges in the hardwood. That had a sobering effect on Clara, especially when a claw shed its sheath and left a fresh one in its place. She could flay me to the bone with those.

Bang!

Her shot went wide and Bastet pounced left. The cat goddess landed on the back of a chair, those claws digging into the leather and padding.

Bang!

Bastet launched herself onto the end of a couch.

Bang!

“Horse—” Clara swore.

Bang!

“Feathers!” Clara finished.

Bastet was now perched on the armrest on the couch. There were two bullet holes aft of her. During this brief intermission, stuffing wafted merrily through the air.

Bang—bang!

The goddess was now balanced perfectly atop a chair. Clara had to admit that bit was impressive. Still, Bastet was almost within claw range. Clara clenched her jaw, because this was getting serious.

Bang!

“God—” Clara said.

Bang!

“Damned—” Clara added.

Bang!

“Motherfucker!” Clara finished.

One miss after the other. Bastet was too fast to engage, and the goddess knew it. Clara suspected her sword would be just as ineffective in this case. Unless…

Bang! Thwack!

She guessed, correctly, that the cat goddess was toying with her. Just like a house cat would do. The goddess must have counted the rounds expended and knew Clara was out of bullets. That meant she was safe from a ranged attack. She moved in to affect some serious damage.

However, Clara slammed her wings together with Bastet’s head and shoulders caught in between. Upon opening those wings, Bastet stood there wobbling and stunned.

Without hesitation, Clara swung her sword, ensuring the star etched into the blade was lined up with the vertebrae. In one powerful stroke, the blade passed clean through, and the head rolled off the body.

Clara positioned her wings to serve as a shield. A shower of golden blood erupted from the neck. It tapered off in spurts, and once the body dropped to the floor, the flow slowed to a trickle. Clara flicked her wings and covered the walls in the mess.

“Well, that was fun!” Evelyn said before giggling.

“Only if you like taking eighteen naps a day,” Clara said grimly.

She was finally free from Hecate, but she suspected Bastet was finding quarters in her mind. Clara examined the body. There were burn marks in the dead centre of her back.

“Sparky never confirmed her kill,” Clara said before kicking the corpse. “It must have driven Bastet into a frenzy.”

This lull gave her time to reload. She reached for a fresh magazine, inserted it, and brought the slide forward to chamber a round. Kitty made me feel like an amateur…

As Clara looked ahead, she noticed something shining in the light. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be the hilt of a naval cutlass and sword belt, which she swapped with the nicked rapier. The belt was a bonus, because it gave her a free hand in between skirmishes.

“You’re too dolled up to be a pirate,” Evelyn said.

“You know,” Clara said, “I was thinking the same thing.”

Clara reached into her purse for some lipstick and a compact. She redid her lips in carmine red, which had been all the rage in her day. Of course, to fit the theme, she did it in a perfect cupid’s bow.

“I think it works for me,” Clara said. My headache is clearing up. Thank g—

“That it does,” Evelyn said with a giggle.

* * * *

“That’s unexpected,” Evelyn said.

“I doubt that,” Marc replied, every single syllable synchronised to a metronome.

Evelyn shot her sire a dirty look, but those narrowed eyes and thin lips faded in favour of an impish grin. She loathed that Marc, so disconnected from his emotions that he required a surrogate, could read her so easily.

“That’s true,” Evelyn said before giggling. “Someone took a clip from Clara’s live feed and posted it on their accounts.”

“Which one?”

Evelyn glanced at her sire standing at her side. The question was infantile in her mind, but his features were completely neutral. If this was an attempt at humour, he would have driven the point home with a disturbingly fake smile. Even if he’s an expert in faking the gamut of human emotions…

“The one where she slams her wings shut with Bastet caught in the middle,” Evelyn replied.

“I suppose that could be seen as funny,” Marc said dryly.

Evelyn quirked a brow. “I’m surprised you even know what humour is—”

“Beyond the mathematical aspects?”

“Exactement,” Evelyn said. “Either way, it’s gone viral. Look…”

Evelyn played the clip trending on Twitcher. The number of likes and reposts were growing exponentially. While the video itself lacked context, the idea of the shooter missing every shot and opting to swat their opponent like a fly resonated with the audience. Viewers were also given a link to the live stream, so they could witness the carnage for themselves.

“I can see why,” Marc said. “Plays out like an action movie, but with a comedic finish.”

“Not to mention a tragic end for Bastet,” Evelyn said.

“Well deserved.”

There was irony to that statement. Marc resented Bastet for tormenting her prey and leaving behind the mess like cats did on the doorstep of their owners. While such reckless behaviour risked exposure, this live stream had the same aim. Evelyn hoped to bring the government’s involvement into the light and force them to back off.

“Does she know?” Marc asked.

“Clara is otherwise occupied at the moment.”

“She’ll be pissed.”

“I’d say disappointed is more accurate…” Evelyn replied.

* * * *

There were signs of carnage wherever Clara turned. The scorch marks on the bodies, walls, and floors were ample evidence of Sparky’s passing. No questions on which sister caused this mess.

The Ethereal persona, in her natural form, was transparent as though she had a foot in the grave. Other than communing with the dead, and moving unopposed through walls, Clara drew a blank on the additional talents this one brought to the table.

“I doubt paranoia is considered a power for the old gods,” Clara quipped.

She moved through the marble-floor hallways that led to the kitchens. From what Evelyn said, these were linked to the restaurants, and from there the Grand Hall.

Ethereal was the friend who sucked all the joy from an activity. This was the one who assumed any act of kindness, no matter how genuine, was the result of an insidious agenda.

“The one who never missed the chance to rub it in when proven right,” Clara said grimly.

However, Ethereal rarely took an active role during their limited interactions. There was one element of her power Clara never witnessed. It was something Elizabeth mentioned after visiting a few Wiki sites that detailed the history and lore of the old gods.

“Necromancy…” Clara said.

The ghostly green glow ahead evoked memories of a passage from a codex she found written in an archaic variant of Latin. Discovering texts that went counter to The Tower’s had been a favourite pastime for her as an acolyte. I loved to torment the library staff with my most recent discovery.

Homo Mortuum had been mentioned throughout that tome. Unlike ghosts, which were explicitly denied by staff, there was no mention of these creatures. The only noted details were an eerie green glow, and a rabid taste for flesh.

“Looks like any flesh will do,” Clara whispered.

A hundred paces ahead, one was hunched over a well-dressed man. By the looks of the expensive threads, fangs, and obsidian claws, it must have been one of them.

What could best be described as a zombie was naked and shaved bare. That gave her insight on its wounds. There was bone protruding through its right calf, gashes over much of its back, and its abdomen was splayed open. Even now, the intestines and heart were swaying freely from the hunched creature.

“We’ve seen nothing like it,” Evelyn said.

“It’s animated,” Clara whispered. “I knew that coming through the kitchen would be a bad idea.”

“Talk about an acute case of indigestion,” Evelyn quipped.

Marc tapped on Evelyn’s shoulder, which was code to focus on a particular monitor. There was something lingering in the shadows, and the glow intensified as it approached.

“Clara,” Evelyn said.

Before the name registered in her earbud, the hairs on the back of her neck were already sticking straight out. She spun around while focusing on slowing time to increase her buffer. Once she was done with an about face, Clara had eyes on four other creatures.

The nearest one lunged at her. She responded by lining up her pistol’s iron sights with its head and squeezed the trigger.

Bang!

Pieces of skull and brain matter blew out through the back of its head spraying the others with debris. There was no blood splatter, either because of exsanguination or settling in the extremities. However, these things reacted like sharks with chum in the water.

Headshots typically stopped an assailant cold. But she realised what they meant by reanimation. These were not intelligent creatures, they were puppets on strings with a base instinct to feed. Even without a brain, it remained a threat.

Clara backed away and reached for her cutlass. Even in the emergency lighting, the steel blade shone brightly, which further enticed them. Horsefeathers.

“Watch the one behind me,” Clara said.

The situation was getting precarious. Strength and speed aside, her opponents were immune to pain. She had to assume they would also not tire, which was bad news for her. Let’s see what works.

The most obvious attack was decapitation, but she had the sinking feeling it would be ineffective. She swung and sent what remained of the head flying, but the body kept on advancing.

All the while, she was forced to surrender ground to the horde. Clara needed a standoff distance to use her sword, even one designed for close-quarters combat.

“Right,” Clara said. “Time to cut the strings.”

In war it was impractical to eliminate every enemy soldier. History proved that significant resources were wasted taking a fortified position instead of surrounding it and sending the bulk of the fighting force onward.

Clara was in a similar position. Dismembering an opponent until it posed no risk was time consuming. She swung and freed the headless foe and severed an arm. That reduced its ability to attack. Doubly so once she detached the leg on the same side.

This plan benefited her; the puppet fell to the ground, hindering the others’ advance. She repeated the process for the next two. However, the blade snapped before moving onto the fourth. Well, that complicates matters.

With the sweet spot gone, what remained was essentially an oversized letter opener. Also, there were another three opponents ahead, and Clara needed a weapon. Horse—

“Look beneath the emergency lighting!” Evelyn yelled.

The distortion brought on by the yell was nearly enough to lose the message. Clara spotted a recessed cabinet with a fire extinguisher, hose reel, and an axe under the emergency lighting. She shattered the glass with her elbow and bought some time by kneecapping the two nearest zombies.

In the ensuing confusion, she reached inside for the axe and tossed her pistol. This was a two-handed weapon and she could not afford to fumble an attack. Thank god I have another pistol.

This time she had to be deliberate in her attacks. She used her speed to build momentum and buried the axe into its shoulders; the weight carried the axe-head forward until it came out near to the pelvis.

Unlike the previous opponents, this one crumpled onto itself, its mobility severely limited. However, the attack left Clara exposed. She flapped her wings to back away, before repeating the attack. The effect was similar but came out cleanly right between the legs.

Despite thinning out the horde, she was running out of room to manoeuvre. The zombie behind her was also getting closer, and these things kept crawling out of the woodwork.

“Not good!” Clara exclaimed.

More zombies poured in through the kitchen doors. They were growing in number, and she would soon get cornered.

“Behind you,” Evelyn said.

Clara pivoted on the ball of her foot, with her axe following a wide arc. It was fortunate that she reacted prior to confirming the threat. The axe-head exited the zombie just above the pelvis, before burying itself into the wall. Shit! I liked that axe.

“Where does this corridor lead to?” Clara asked.

“Freezers,” Evelyn said.

That was not the answer she needed to hear. Escaping into the freezer dressed like she was meant a slow death. While it might keep those zombies at bay, it also meant no chance of escape for her. When fighting a defensive war, you need to win one-hundred percent of the time.

“No choice. I need to go through the kitchen,” Clara said.

“Or you’re finished,” Evelyn agreed.

The brutal honesty was welcome. False hope would only turn to poison when reality reared its ugly head.

“Fuck this!”

She hated resorting to this, but she slowed down time until the zombies were nearly standing still. In this state, she was free to find her weapon and minimise the risk of getting to the kitchen.

First she needed speed, and lots of it. She pushed back against the wall shared with the freezers. The cold seeped in through her bare skin. Clara readied herself and pushed off with her wings. There was not enough clearance above to take flight and too many to navigate her way around them. Instead, she drove her shoulder into their mid-sections and sent them flying over top. After the third, she grabbed her discarded pistol and fired off rounds into the next cluster.

Air wafted out from the barrel in slow motion before the projectiles made an appearance. Both shots found their targets a second before she blew through the kitchen doors.

* * * *

There were a lot of zombies in the kitchen. For the moment, none were aware of her presence. With a few seconds to spare, she spotted a blue flame emanating from the cooktops, which gave her an idea.

Remaining in an accelerated state was a challenge for Clara. Her powers were time limited and being this far out of sync drained her batteries fast. I’ll just have to push and hope for the best…

The equipment must have been top of the line when installed, but it was decades old. I hope they cheaped out on safety features. Clara smiled while scanning the room, taking in every potential weakness to exploit the system. There were several, but there was also plenty of company. At least they’re dispersed.

The first step was to blow out the pilot lights on all the burners and crank the burner dials to full flow. The end effect would be self-explanatory…if she completed the task. Things were sure to get interesting if she was forced to return to normal time.

Next came the ovens, which she completed in rapid succession. However, she left one burning on high heat, with what she hoped was rotisserie chicken inside. To further her plan, she used a cast-iron skillet to smash the glass.

Next, she crashed the ventilation system. The place might have been running on emergency power, but main power might still be restored. I need the gases to build up.

She flew past a butcher’s block and stopped cold. There was a heavy knife. If she was right, they regularly dismembered animals. While this was a close-in weapon, she knew it would take a beating.

“Odd. This is the longest I’ve ever been able to hold this state,” Clara said, sounding like a cricket chirp.

Throughout the kitchen there were several stainless-steel tables on wheels. She rolled six of them into the middle and formed a square. To conserve her reserves, she returned in sync with time, and it was now up to her to play the part. I’m the creamy centre…

“Dinner is served!” Clara yelled.

“What are you doing!?” Evelyn asked, alarmed.

Without a high-speed camera, Evelyn could not follow what had been going on. All they saw was a constant blur of light and colour that culminated with her ringing the proverbial dinner bell.

There were at least three dozen of the things in the kitchen, some of which had once been part of the staff. Clara was not about to make it easy for them, but she needed them to get in close. Fortunately, she had an idea and hoped it would go off without a hitch.

Five seconds…

The puppets came at her from all sides. There was no reasoning behind their actions, and none were aware there was a barrier in the way.

Ten seconds…

They bunched up on the interlocked tables. Every table had their wheels locked save for one. They tried to grab her, but the tables were wide enough to create a buffer.

Fifteen seconds…

There was a large group of shambling corpses vying for fresh meat. That forced Clara to check below every so often, certain that a couple would trip.

Twenty seconds…

A groper came at her from below. Clara severed both arms and its head to negate the threat. Nearing the end of her stay, she returned her pistol to the clutch.

Twenty-five seconds…

Clara placed both hands against the unlocked table. By now, the sound of gnashing and moaning was giving her a headache.

Now. Now. Now!

It was now or never. Clara pushed and, despite the number of zombies opposing her, the table gave way. With each step, she gained speed until she rammed the table into the wall.

The impact was muffled by the zombies caught in the middle. Still, she heard the sound of bones snapping. With time working against her, she ran to the door and blew over a stray puppet before disappearing into the restaurant.

“The door!” Clara said.

“Get the door!” Evelyn said at the same time.

Thirty-five seconds…

Double-hinged doors were difficult to secure. There was no visible locking mechanism, nor were there handles for her to loop something solid through. She buried the tip of the butcher knife into the counter at the bar to free her hands. Time to get dirty.

She was surrounded by tall tables and stools. Alone, they were ineffective and would do little to slow the horde. Together…

Forty seconds…

She went from table to table, tossing them toward the doors. The pile built up fast. By the tenth table, she was running in an accelerated state. While she was working on hastily calculated estimates, she had no desire to be near the kitchen for much longer.

Forty-five seconds…

Something pushed the door into the debris, but the debris held. No matter, this makeshift barricade was never meant to be a permanent fixture. Intent on getting away from here, Clara synched with time and bolted.

Fifty seconds…

Clara peeked around the corner of the restaurant’s main entrance. The hallway was clear at both ends.

“Take a right,” Evelyn said.

Fifty-five seconds…

“Okay,” Clara said.

She had forgotten the butcher knife. While tempted to go back for it, it was not worth the risk, even if she took the chance of putting time on pause. I’ve been tapping that power a LOT.

Sixty seconds…

With her pistol drawn, Clara jogged toward the Grand Hall. The last time she was here, the opulence of the décor and associated view had taken her breath away. A view that was literally to die for…

Sixty-five seconds…

Another quick peek around the corner showed the main lobby was deserted. Clara furrowed her brow, certain this would be their last line of defence… Unless the defences are automated…

Seventy seconds…

Out of options, Clara walked out into the open. She kept her eye out for potential threats, while identifying areas that provided cover… Including the concierge’s desk.

Seventy-five seconds…

“I hope she blows soon,” Clara said. “That door—”

Three openings appeared from out of the ceiling. The voids were quickly filled in as the gun turret dropped into place.

Eighty seconds…

“Di Mi!” Clara exclaimed.

Once the turrets locked into place, they trained on her. She transitioned into a run and flapped her wings to gain altitude. Once she was three metres above the deck, she dove toward the desk.

Eighty-five seconds…

The turrets engaged, their projectiles leaving craters in the marble. Only once she was behind the counter did the turrets stop.

Ninety seconds…

“Come the fuck—” Clara swore just as a low-frequency rumble interrupted her verbal tirade.

A ball of flame enveloped the kitchen and surrounding areas, causing the hotel’s fire suppression system to engage. Within seconds, the deluge from the sprinklers left her soaked to the bone.

“It’s a good thing I wore black today…” Clara said grimly.

CHAPTER 15

FULCRUM

Clara’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling while she let the air out from her lungs. The torrential downpour had stopped and only the sound of water running down the flats and stairs remained. That’s going to cost them a pretty penny to clean up.

The cold was already beginning to turn her skin to gooseflesh. Clara knew staying put for so long would be bad for her. I need to get going and warm up.

“You are a literal force of nature, ma chère,” Evelyn said.

“Well, it was either a career in hunting or demolitions,” Clara said. “I may have missed my calling.”

“They pay better in demolitions,” Evelyn replied in agreement.

Tired of hiding behind this desk, Clara peeked over the top. The turrets immediately locked onto her position. She ducked back behind the counter just as two rounds ricocheted where her head had been. That was close!

“Horsefeathers,” Clara said.

“That complicates—”

Before Evelyn could finish that sentence, the turrets began firing at a high rate. Clara assumed they were manually targeting her position to tear apart her cover. However, the sounds indicated the turrets were moving away from her, on separate vectors. Someone is drawing their fire!

Clara peeked over the counter and caught the sight of the ethereal apparition of a man and a woman. While they were familiar, she could not immediately place their faces. Wait!

“Tyler,” Clara said.

“Lauren!” Evelyn yelled.

Two of the members of the Ghoul Hunters, the paranormal research group that, as judged by their spectral apparitions, confirmed they died on the premises. They were helping Clara by drawing the fire away from her. Not like bullets will do a thing to them…

She considered making a run for it but realised that one turret stopped firing. Within a minute a second turret was out of ammunition, followed closely by Lauren phasing out of existence.

She focused on Tyler as he phased in and out; the power needed to maintain corporeal form was obviously massive. With time on his side, the last turret went dry before he ran out of juice. That’s all three!

Tyler faced Clara and smiled. To thank him, she stood straight, clapped her feet together, and saluted him.

Before Tyler could return the salute, he faded out entirely. It was a shame, those two probably knew this hotel better than most. Besides, ghosts were not deterred by traps and locks.

Clara ignored the turrets following her every move. Before getting a move on, she ran her hands down her dress. Everything was wet but felt lighter after pushing out excess water from the fabric. In time, she would dry, but given the state of the place, that could take a while. Let’s get a move on, I need some blood pumping through my extremities.

Clara opened her purse and found the contents were mostly dry. That was great news; without that phone, she had no means of communicating with Evelyn or—

“Are you still picking up video?”

“All clear here,” Evelyn replied. “We made sure the device would survive short-term immersion.”

“Pretty smart for a biscuit,” Clara said.

In the distance, she caught the sound of water trickling. Through all the chaos and gunfire, Clara had missed the sight of the lobby’s centrepiece. Despite there being no power, the water continued to flow cheerfully from out of four barrels held by seductive imps. Clara furrowed her brow, because she remembered it looking different the last time she was here.

“Were they always sexy devils feeding the fountain?” Clara asked.

“What are you talking about?” Evelyn asked.

“The fountain and the four demons feeding the basin.”

“I see a lone angel with wings outstretched.”

There was some background chatter. It seemed Marc had something to add.

“He says he sees an Italian courtesan…” Evelyn replied with her fury barely concealed. “Marc, you and I need to have a chat…”

It appealed to visitors because it created a tailor-made illusion. Curiouser and curiouser.

“Ten to one, that’s a Georgian toy…” Clara said.

* * * *

So far, there were no signs of Silver. However, if anyone could have pulled off the great escape, it was her.

Based on what was left, Silver must have comprised the elements that represented crossroads and the moon. In Clara’s opinion, this was the sanest and unofficial leader of the three. Silver was the one who shone through when they adopted their plain Jane form and often spoke for the group.

Still, she had yet to come across any signs of that sister’s wake. Other than her plain Jane self, Clara did not know what powers she channelled specifically through Silver. It was said that dogs were often portrayed in the company of Hecate, but they behaved now like they had in life.

There was also an intimate connection between werewolves and the moon, but what happened at the dam confirmed she held no sway over their kind. It would have been a snap had I been able to order them to sit, roll over, and play dead.

As she distanced herself from the desk, a series of splashes reached her ears. The sounds were slightly out of sync with her steps, and she suspected these were not a natural occurrence.

She pivoted on the ball of her feet and found nothing. She was faced by large Corinthian-style columns that dominated her view. Gee…those are ideal for a concealed advance. She pointed the pistol down range and kept her senses sharp.

Under normal circumstances, she would have slowed time. However, her escape from the kitchens had taken a lot out of her. I wonder why I don’t feel drained at all?

Either way, it was prudent to keep her ability to alter how she interacted with time in reserve. Better than running out when I need it.

The threat approached like a blur, striking her with enough force to send her flying backward. In the ensuing confusion, she let go of her weapon and went over the railing.

This was the part of the lobby that opened into an observation deck, offering a view of the valley. To avoid making a hard landing, she flapped one wing to right herself, and then used both wings to slow her descent and land on her feet.

The water on this level was up to her ankles and rising. While it slowed her movements, it would do the same for that blur. With an active threat looming about, she took a chance and slowed things down enough to react.

In this state, a vampire still had an advantage, but at least she had an opportunity to react. I’m surprised it worked!

Her eyes caught something moving fast on the upper level. Before launching itself from off the railing, Clara spotted the man.

“Him?” Evelyn asked, while Clara was losing ground. “That’s Cecil, the hotel’s fixer. He’s dangerous at the best of times…”

The Grand Hall’s windows were curved. From where she stood, they stretched out from her far left and ended to her far right. The next few moments would be critical. She took a knee and grabbed a couple of throwing knives before slowing time further.

Angels who were once human had to practise their interactions with time. Whereas those who were created as angels were always in an accelerated state. Clara often wondered how those like Michael could exist in a state that turned seconds into hours. Just having a conversation in that state would bore me to tears.

Cecil pulled out a blade of his own and charged. To maintain his speed, he jumped from tabletop to tabletop but never took his eyes off her. Smart, he knows better than to turn his back to me.

To showcase her human frailty, Clara threw a knife. The blade cut through the air, right where he had been a heartbeat ago.

It was the same for her second throw, which left her appearing disarmed. However, she grabbed another two in the time it took for that last blade to bury itself into the balcony’s moulding. He didn’t notice my sleight of hand.

He smiled from only one side of his face. Clara responded by throwing two knives in rapid succession. The first of which glanced off his forearm, cutting through fabric. The fact a blade made contact at all surprised him, more so than how she got a hold of more.

The second blade buried itself into his thigh, and Clara observed his jaw muscles bulge. It may have missed something critical, but it was sure to slow him down. Unless he opts to heal himself…then you’ll see firsthand how fast I am.

Clara checked out what was behind her. The hotel itself was casting a shadow over the land below, but the mountains beyond that were aglow in sunlight. Even in the late summer there was still snow atop the tallest peaks. Odd, it looks like the valley floor is covered in a thick grey fog…

“We meet again,” Clara said in a corrected voice.

It took all she had to hold back a yawn from boredom. However, she needed him to think she got lucky with that last shot.

This man did not reply, but the sneer on that face grew threefold. Those eyes revealed how much he enjoyed his line of work. There is never enough bloodshed to satiate his thirst.

“Not one for talking?” Clara asked. “Or are you just one of those guys who soils their pants at the sight of cleavage?”

Cecil was experienced enough to pass on the bait. However, she also figured he considered her to be a minor threat. She had just recovered from being knocked unconscious. Hence why she needed to make the gaffs of a novice. If you can’t piss them off, have them underestimate you…

He grabbed the blade by the handle and pulled it out. Had he been human, the blood loss from that wound would have been excessive. But it was only a trickle, which meant he was planning to heal. Wait for it…

He tossed the blade casually into the air and grabbed it by the handle before launching it back at her. Lucky for her, his aim was off, so dropping to her knees and cowering at his near miss was entirely in character for a hunter in her situation.

The moment Cecil moved toward her, she launched herself into the air and flapped her wings. She tracked his attack; the man was heading precisely where she had been moments ago.

While Cecil was capable of superhuman speed, in this state Clara was faster still. Before he noticed she was gone, Clara was far enough away to execute a dive.

With her wings tucked in, she covered the distance between them in a fraction of a second. Upon making contact, she grappled him with both arms. Their combined mass and velocity sent them hurtling toward the windows.

* * * *

Clara and Cecil broke through the reinforced glass panels, sending shrapnel exploding outward. As the shards transitioned into the sunlight, they glistened like a shower of diamonds as the glass tinkled.

She opened her wings and flapped several times to slow her descent, but Cecil had latched on and would not let go. Even with her enhanced strength, she was unable to pry his hands from around her legs. A bit more and he might actually break something.

In situations where death was assured, some preferred to take others with them. This vampire knew full well that their arc of travel would take them into the sunlight, and what that meant. He also knew that tethering himself to this fine feathered femme fatale would ensure he got even.

Clara dived toward the cliff, using the updraft to do a hard loop to shake him off. Alas, those hands were like vice grips. That forced her to choose between returning him to safety or burning up with him.

Her heart sank. Clara had gone through a lot of shit today. The idea of meeting her end here left a bitter taste in her mouth. I’ve not been at my best today…

She imagined herself back in the Grand Hall overlooking the valley. Specifically, she focused on how satisfying it would have been to watch this bastard spontaneously combust in mid-air…

Just like that, Cecil was alone, left to continue on the trajectory that sent him into the light of God.

* * * *

“What—” Clara said.

“What just happened?” Evelyn asked.

Clara stood exactly where she imagined herself to be. The sight of Cecil turning into a fireball put a smile upon those lips. While she did not know how it came to be, she was not about to complain. Why am I smelling wood smoke?

“I love this water feature,” Clara said.

“…” Static came through the earpiece.

Breaking the window allowed the accumulated water on the observation deck to pour out from the opening and onto the valley floor like a waterfall. I wondered how it would look just outside…

“Wait! Crossroads and entryways…” Clara said.

“Clara?” Evelyn asked.

The ability to teleport from point to point might have been one of Silver’s skills. If that were true, then Clara had unknowingly triggered this ability for the second time.

“Sorry,” Clara said. “I must’ve picked up a new trick…”

“I’d say so!” Evelyn exclaimed. “How did—”

“Are you sure there were three sisters?” Clara asked.

“Je suis sûr, ma chère,” Evelyn said.

“Then I have no clue…”

Something made shuffling sounds out in the distance. It was slow, haphazard, and definitely not just one. Clara rolled her eyes at the thought of fighting off a horde of barbecued zombies.

Her eyes scanned the immediate area, searching for a viable weapon. With nothing suitable in sight, Clara withdrew her backup piece and chambered a round. Her pistol may have been ineffective, but it was better than nothing.

“Horsefeathers!” Clara swore. “Oh, wait… I can fly!”

Clara stood fast, her pistol arm bent up, so the weapon rested against her shoulder. As the zombies neared the railing, she realised this was a new group, including some from the smoking room. While these things were intent on ruining her day, she had a plan.

Most lacked the wherewithal to use the stairs, instead they flipped over the railing. Several broke their necks in the attempt, and the end effect was rather funny. What a bunch of bobble-headed idiots.

“A little more…” Clara said.

It was something to see, around fifty in all, every one of these shamblers were headed her way.

“Just a bit…”

The receding water levels hastened their advance. They formed into a mass of rotting flesh and bone that would be nearly impossible to take on with a melee weapon. In life, she would have tried to run parallel with the window in an attempt to reach the far staircase.

“Now!” Clara yelled.

She leaned back and let gravity take over. Once in freefall, she opened her wings and made several strong flaps to get back at eye level with the horde. The difference from a moment ago was the gap between them. You can taste the mesquite out here.

The first five walked off and dropped like stones. As it was, Clara did not have to waste a bullet.

However, something unexpected happened. The rest of the shamblers stopped moving entirely. They appeared to be frozen, as though she were manipulating time. After several good flaps to maintain position, the horde collapsed as though their strings had been cut.

“What was that?” Evelyn said.

“Don’t ask me. I’m just here for the ride,” Clara replied.

* * * *

Clara had no interest in walking through that mass of bodies. For all she knew, they would come to life and give chase throughout the hotel.

Instead, she tried her hand at teleportation. She imagined herself being at the concierge’s desk and transitioned with ease.

“That will come in handy,” Clara said.

“No kidding,” Evelyn said. “It’s a bit jarring when viewing it on my monitor!”

She chuckled at the comment and took a moment to collect her thoughts. For lack of a better term, it was quiet, which meant either the goddesses left the hotel, or they were waiting for her. This feels like a badly directed movie.

While the hotel’s decor was different, the layout had not changed. She went down to the west wing, past the many restaurants, bars, and clubs until music reached her ears. She doubted it was a coincidence that the song hanging in the air was the Charleston. Someone is really out to fuck with me.

The last time she stepped foot in this clip-joint, the place had been packed. There had been a veritable sea of people dancing and drinking the night away. Save for four people, this place was entirely deserted today.

Three were at the bar, at the far end of the room. Specifically, the world’s most peculiar triplets were sitting on the stools centred on the bar. All three smiled, as though they were cats who just feasted on the canary.

Ada was tied to a chair by a table in the middle of this massive club. It was rare for vampires to show bruising and injuries, since they could heal on command. However, the broken nose, black eye, and cracked lip were clear as day. She must be too weak to heal her wounds.

“They really worked her over,” Evelyn said.

“Mm-hmm,” Clara replied, not wanting to give away the fact that she had a guardian angel.

Ada stared out blankly into space, showing no sign of recognition as Clara walked by. That was difficult for Clara to take in, but not as much as the spot where Ada sat. That’s where I died…

After realising she had stopped breathing, Clara focused, brought her breathing under control, and steeled her resolve. While it was imagined, she swore the floor was still scorched. That’s where Sparky torched me with a blue bolt.

Since her sister did not pose an immediate threat, Clara went for the bar. She was surprised to see an amphora of ambrosia glowing on the bar. These three must have stashed a bunch all over the place.

“Clara,” Silver said.

“Hecate… Hecates… Hecateses… Hecatesii,” Clara said. “How does it work when all of you are out and about?”

While Silver opened up with polite dialogue, Clara chose an antagonistic approach. This was their third meeting, and effectively the tie-breaker round. I may as well rile up her sisters…

However, neither Sparky nor Ethereal reacted. With Sparky’s long face and drooping eyes, Clara would have assumed this one had spent the night painting the town red. Heck, she even yawned, with those eyes settling on a random spot in space.

Ethereal already looked like death warmed over, and her translucence did not help matters. However, those lips were a dark blue, matching the patches under her eyes…or at least what remained of them. Those eyes were milky white, without a hint of the iris left. Death doesn’t become you.

“It’s time we had a chat,” Silver said.

“You should have started with, my you look great in that dress,” Clara countered. “Buttering me up would have gone a long way.”

“I—” Silver said. “What?”

Clara could not rely on her tried-and-true tactic of playing one sister against the others. With both Sparky and Ethereal showing no interest in the conversation, she needed to confront Silver. Alas, that sister was far more composed and cognisant of her emotions.

“Do you seriously think I would just agree to your terms?” Clara asked.

“We are—” Silver said.

“We?” Clara asked. “Your sisters look like death warmed over.”

While all three had a glass of ambrosia, Sparky and Ethereal had not touched theirs. Even during this brief interaction, it was obvious Silver was drinking copious amounts of it.

“It’s me you need to worry about,” Silver said.

“Really?” Clara confirmed. “Goddess of the leftovers? The moon and crossroads. Admit it, you got the short straw when the powers were handed out.”

Clara was simply parroting what had been said about the triplets before. I’ve been dealing with their antics for decades, but Hecate had to put up with this abuse for aeons.

“All jokes aside,” Silver said dryly, “we hold the power.”

“Oh?” Clara said prior to cocking a brow. “Do tell?”

“We have your powers,” Silver said. “Without us, you are just a fallen angel.”

On the surface of it, their argument was solid. However, Clara was not about to let that guide in her decisions. She had taken out powerful creatures as a human, and defeated Hecate once before as a plain old angel. Sure she had fun channelling their powers, but she would love to be rid of their whispers and constant bickering. Clara was not even sure she would come up behind by giving up their powers.

“I was human,” Clara replied. “That’s also the best time I ever had.”

Silver rolled her eyes and refilled her glass of ambrosia. Despite slamming them back like whisky shots, there was no outward effect on her.

“We also have Ada,” Silver said.

“Who’s that?” Clara asked.

Silver shook her head before angling those eyes toward the ceiling. Taken out of context, she might have assumed Silver was praying for strength. I’m sure all prayers are ignored at The Grand.

“Your sister…” Silver said flatly.

There was something in Silver’s tone that hinted at fatigue. Meanwhile, Clara could not remember ever feeling this good. Her headache was gone, along with any hint of exhaustion. She was roaring to take on the world. I’m not even tempted to take a sip of ambrosia.

“That’s not my sister,” Clara said. “She died a long time ago. Whoever you beat to a pulp is no one I would care to associate with—”

“Fine,” Silver said. “You kill her then.”

“Why would I do that?” Clara said. “She’s not worth the trouble.”

“And yet you came to The Grand intent on confronting this one,” Silver said.

“In this getup?” Clara said while waving a hand down at her wet black dress. “I planned on hoofing the night away on the dance floor before indulging in their Turkish baths. I might even have been up for a petting party.”

“More like bend over and take it like a whore,” Silver hissed.

Venom coursed through every word. However, it lacked that vigour she expected from someone who was serious.

“Why?” Clara asked. “Evelyn is more than enough for me.”

Clara caught a giggle over her earpiece. Obviously the biscuit was watching the exchange, but she had been curiously quiet, as though she had taken a seat amongst the audience.

“She is beneath you,” Silver said.

“Beneath, on top, against a wall, sitting on my face,” Clara said. “Makes no difference—”

“Enough!” Silver yelled, causing the walls to shake.

Now I know where that talent originated from. Upon finishing that last syllable, Silver immediately downed another shot of ambrosia and refilled. Curiouser and curiouser.

Meanwhile, Evelyn was giggling away on the comms. While funny, Clara needed to ignore the crosstalk, since it was not a good time to miss a detail. Silver will go down swinging, unless I show her a there is another path.

It was fortunate she had been paying attention, because a ghostly visage appeared from out of the background. The raven-black hair and white dress were a dead giveaway. Initially, the sight of Eleanor made her heart sink, but that changed once they made eye contact.

Eleanor smiled before looking toward the sisters. At that moment, Clara understood there had been no coup. It’s all about power levels.

“The Angel of Death has answered our summon,” Ethereal said faintly.

Those words were normally devoid of emotion, but now they actively leeched the warmth from the air. It reminded her of a dying man struggling to get their last words out before crossing the veil. Ethereal has really seen better days.

“Good,” Silver said. She then faced Sparky and ordered, “Drink up!”

Sparky snapped out of whatever fantasy she was having and latched onto the amphora. She drank greedily straight from the vessel and left everyone in the room to wonder if she ever planned to come up for air.

“You!” Sparky said after letting out an earth-shattering belch.

Clara blew air through her lips to push some stray hairs out of her sight. Simultaneously, she slowed down time, knowing this situation would soon come to a head. Silver isn’t holding her sister back anymore.

True to form, emboldened by copious amounts of ambrosia, Sparky’s eyes came to life. What followed was predictable; she pointed a finger toward Clara.

Gifted with faster reflexes in this state, it was a bit of a gamble, but one she was comfortable making. Her ability to teleport was not something any angel possessed, which meant her transplanted powers had not been stripped. I hope!

Bolts of blue energy shot out from both the angel and Sparky. The difference was that Clara’s was more vibrant and powerful. While the beams met nearer to Clara, it rapidly shifted in her favour, and overtook the goddess’ beam.

Two sets of eyes widened, but those that belonged to Sparky shut as her face transitioned to a cringe. Getting struck by that bolt would mean death and she was powerless to stop it.

Clara stopped her attack and sidestepped the focal point. What remained of Sparky’s attack hit the back wall. The end effect was so weak that it barely marred the paint.

“Is that really the best you can do?” Clara taunted.

Sparky fell off her stool and rolled up into the foetal position. Her sisters were astounded, more so that Clara was still standing.

“Get her,” Ethereal whispered, those vacant white eyes focused on Eleanor.

Eleanor did not reply, this was her declaration of independence from her former mistress. However, what remained of Hecate had yet to grasp the significance of the act. They are not accustomed to being disobeyed.

“I told you…” Ethereal whispered.

The goddess was so weak that she did not finish the sentence. Clara smirked, waiting for the last player to make her move. If I were Silver, I’d try to land a blow from behind.

She further slowed time and once more showed no signs of running out of steam. As Silver dematerialised, Clara focused on the area behind the bar and found herself there in the blink of an eye.

Silver stood at arm’s length from where Clara had been, with her mouth agape. Clara shrugged and grabbed herself a bottle of dark rum from the top shelf. The bottle appeared to be ancient, and she salivated at the thought of indulging. They mustn’t get too many human guests anymore…

From the view of an outsider, every motion was a blur. Meanwhile, Silver appeared to be a portrait frozen in time. To move things along, Clara shifted closer to her being in sync with time just to maintain an edge.

“Sit down,” Clara ordered.

She swallowed the shot of rum and smiled as it burned on its way down to her gullet. While the effect was muted, her ears warmed up as they often did when indulging in hard liquor.

“How?” Silver said, either unable or unwilling to move from where she was.

“I have a working theory,” Clara said. “Now, sit down and let’s chat.”

“We should’ve had the upper—” Silver blurted out.

Clara’s eyes did not flash blue, there was no need, but a beam of focused energy scorched the marble at Silver’s feet. The goddess jumped back, too late, the result of reacting instead of anticipating.

“I won’t ask again,” Clara said dryly.

Silver slunk over to the bar and regained her seat. Meanwhile Sparky continued to hug herself at the foot of her stool. Ethereal was so pale she was almost invisible, as though she were seconds away from crossing the veil. That gives me an idea.

“It’s a guess, but I believe that at one point you were three separate goddesses,” Clara said.

Before there was a reply, Clara pointed at Silver.

“You,” Clara said, “were the one who absorbed the other two. However, you were comparatively young and immature. You grew up together, very much like sisters would.”

The reason for this theory was simple. The goddess Hecate was often portrayed as a three-bodied or three-faced goddess. Greek and Roman lore also hinted that other deities possessed similar powers. However, none embodied the same combination.

“How would you know this?” Silver asked.

Even Silver was looking weary, as though she would fade away very much as her sisters were. Her eyes were small, and those lips had twisted into a permanent frown. Even with ambrosia, their powers are waning.

“That’s not important,” Clara answered. “You never strengthened your mind against their influences. Their emotions became an essential component to access those powers.”

“I didn’t—” Silver retorted.

Clara aimed her finger at a dying emergency light. The bolt created a shower of sparks but effectively recharged the battery.

“I used to have to channel my anger to trigger that talent, and depression to channel Ethereal to commune with the dead,” Clara said. “However, my training as a hunter taught me to block out external stimuli, control my heart rate, and keep my emotions in check.”

“I’m a god—” Silver yelled.

“That’s why it took me so long to channel these gifts,” Clara said. “It’s also why I assumed they were gone when you escaped.”

“How dare—” Silver exclaimed.

Clara’s eyes glowed blue to silence the opposition. It created the perception that she was mad, but really she was directing a minute fraction of her reserves to the right place.

“Shut it,” Clara snapped, and the walls shook violently, until fissures formed in the marble. “You have two choices.”

“Which are?” Silver asked, after a long pause.

“Go through the veil,” Clara said. “Eleanor will take you to your rightful place in the afterlife…”

In her mind that meant Heaven or whatever construct stood for Hell. In either case, she suspected these three would not be welcomed with open arms. You don’t hide for millennia from your family without a reason.

Silver gulped before asking, “Our second option?”

“Rejoin the fold,” Clara said. “Accept that I’m running the show, much like you once did, and watch as I breach the gates of Heaven.”

Clara neglected to mention that Bastet would be there waiting for them. If she carried out her threats, she figured it would get crowded in there. Someone has to run that circus.

“You don’t have the strength,” Silver countered.

“Let me worry about that,” Clara said.

“So die now,” Silver said, “or die later?”

“Well put, and you know I can’t make guarantees,” Clara said. “The difference is, you’ll witness the downfall of your enemies.”

A weak smile crept across Silver’s face. If Greek and Roman mythos had any truth, it was that the old gods were a very large and dysfunctional family. Hera could have done the world a favour by cutting her husband’s balls off.

Either way, she suspected Hecate had a lot of enemies. However, like with Evelyn, their goals were aligned for the moment.

“So what will it be?” Clara asked. “Follow me, or follow Eleanor?”

Before there was a reply, the three personas merged into one. Now it was the Hecate of old, with the big sister at the helm. Even in this form, the goddess appeared to be utterly exhausted. I’ve looked better after doing seventy-two-hour shifts at the surgical hospital…

“What if we have questions, concerns, or wish to offer counsel?” Hecate asked.

“Then ask,” Clara said. “I’m not unreasonable, but I have the last word.”

“We…accept,” Hecate whispered and held out her hand.

Clara took the outstretched hand. The goddess disintegrated. As the atoms broke apart from the whole, they were absorbed by Clara. She felt a brief surge, followed by a drain, in relation to a new balance being found.

“That was easy—” Clara said.

Her mind blew up, filled with three voices screaming against another followed by hissing and claws. That went on for several minutes, but eventually it all died down. Hecate had the upper hand and would do anything to maintain her place as the favoured tenant.

“All that power,” Ethereal said.

“We haven’t experienced this much in—” Silver added.

“Centuries?” Sparky asked.

“Millennia, you half-wit,” Ethereal corrected.

“All of this without ambrosia?” Silver asked.

Clara was not sure how they could tell if she had indulged in ambrosia or not. However, this was the second time someone asked that question.

“No. Why?” Clara asked.

“Ambrosia helps us heal and feeds our powers,” Silver replied.

“Not the same,” Sparky said.

“It certainly is not,” Ethereal added.

“Not as good, no,” Silver said.

“As?” Clara asked.

There came a long pause, but they realised it could not be avoided.

“Worship,” Silver answered.

The gods of old were known for their worship. However, to her knowledge no one had built a temple in her honour.

“Worship?” Clara asked.

“About that…” Evelyn answered.

“Later,” Clara snapped.

“Spoke too soon?” Eleanor said.

Clara shook her head and smiled. She had no clue how long this internal detente would hold. Still, she would make the best of it.

“No,” Clara replied. “Thank you.”

“For?” Eleanor asked.

“For showing concern, and choosing my side,” Clara answered.

“I follow the goddess,” Eleanor said with a straight face.

That was an answer all its own. It further proved that while Hecate had engineered an escape, it only temporarily weakened Clara. They left me behind after taking most of my reserves, but only I can recharge.

“How much of a mess did the sisters make when I was out?” Clara asked.

“I suspect I will be busy for weeks,” Eleanor said.

“Surely you meant we?” Clara asked.

“I would never dare to presume—”

“I keep my promises,” Clara said. “However, I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

Clara glanced at Ada, who bordered on the cusp of consciousness. Eleanor realised what Clara meant and promptly disappeared.

“I wonder how well stocked the bar is?” Clara mused.

CHAPTER 16

TIES THAT BIND

Clara rummaged through the back of the bar and found a fridge near the sink. Given this club catered to the likes of them, Clara figured there would be a ready supply of blood… In cases where fresh sources are unavailable…

Ada was in bad shape and a glass of wine mixed with blood would not cut it. Clara found several bags inside, grabbed two, and closed the door behind her. That would be enough to liven her kin without putting herself at risk.

“Are you sure, ma chère?” Evelyn asked.

There was wisdom to the question. Ada was the one who brought the war to her, but she was currently in no shape to follow through. Besides, her powers gave her a significant advantage over any vampire.

“It’s time to show mercy,” Clara said. “Otherwise, we are nothing more than tools in the service of others.”

Those words served as a warning to anyone listening. The Tower made her a weapon and they even implanted fail-safes to protect their investment. That worked out in Evelyn’s favour, but Clara knew full well that the biscuit had her own agenda.

“But—” Evelyn said.

“She will get as much mercy as I’ve shown you in the past,” Clara said to reinforce her position.

Content with the silence, Clara sat on a chair facing Ada. In this state, vampires were on the cusp of turning feral. The primitive part of their brain took control, turning them into killing machines until their hunger was satiated.

Clara confirmed the knots were secure. As a precaution, she redid the ones that restrained the arms, so they would tighten in a struggle. The last thing she needed was a feral vampire on the loose… They can’t be reasoned with.

Next, she loosened Father Michael’s rosary and exposed the blade. She used her elbows as a vice to keep Ada’s head in place while the bag hung overhead.

“I’m not sure about this,” Evelyn chimed.

“Join the club,” Clara replied grimly.

She punctured the bag, ensuring a steady flow of blood poured into the open mouth. Ada’s entire body spasmed, and Clara was challenged to maintain the position. The fangs and obsidian claws came out and her tongue probed the edge of those lips in search of stray drops.

“Time to wake up, sis,” Clara said.

She emptied the bag and fell back to a chair opposing Ada. Her sister needed time to regain control. Still, the change was remarkable; even with a single bag, most of the wounds had healed.

“What—where am I?” Ada asked.

Clara did not say a word, because doing so might prejudice how this played out. That slack jaw quickly transitioned to strained jaw muscles and eyes filled with fiery fury.

All of that hate Clara had seen from earlier was back with a vengeance. The fires fuelling that hate were eternal, but that did not matter. I won’t give up so easily.

“You should be dead!” Ada hissed.

Those words had plenty of vitriol, which impressed Clara considering the shape her sister was in. Of course, Hecate did not exactly help matters by snatching victory from her grasp.

“You’re welcome,” Clara said before smiling. “I suppose we should thank Hecate for bringing us here…”

There was truth to those words; Hecate could have easily killed her sister. In reality, they would have done the world a favour. I don’t have the luxury of taking such a cavalier attitude.

“I had it all planned,” Ada whined. “You should be dead. YOU NEED TO BE DEAD!”

It was difficult to see Ada as a sister at that moment. Her big sister had been the rock that held what remained of her family together. She remembered looking up at her sister in awe at how strong Ada was. Clara also remembered the shower of tears they shared when they met on that train platform. We did what we had to do to survive.

This was a distorted caricature of Drusilla. The influence that vampire had over her sister led to a complete change in personality. I think The Tower could have learned a few things from her.

Clara leaned over the table and slapped Ada. The impact echoed throughout the vacant clip-joint. While vicious, it would not leave a mark… Other than on my sister’s pride.

Ada’s mouth took on the shape of a gaping O, and those eyes widened. That pose lasted for several heartbeats before she regained her composure.

“You’re going to get a nasty migraine with all that clenching,” Clara said.

“She’s not in a talking mood,” Evelyn said through the headset.

“Keep out of this, WHORE!” Ada exclaimed, demonstrating that vampires had excellent hearing as well.

Clara’s eyes flashed blue for effect. It was not the first time that moniker had been used against Evelyn. She also suspected the biscuit had a witty comeback. However, if this was not contained, the situation would boil over.

“Enough,” Clara said in a calm and cool manner.

Both vampires remained silent. Although, she assumed Evelyn was busy swearing up a storm in French on her end. It was fortunate for Clara that the microphone was muted. I’m going to get it when I see her again.

“What happened to you?” Clara asked finally.

“You!” Ada answered.

Clara’s head snapped back. That response was too fast for an on-the-spot remark. This had to be something Ada believed, and that explained a lot.

“What did I do?” Clara asked instead of denying the unknown.

“I should have gone to that school!” Ada yelled.

“Why?”

She was genuinely curious about the answer. Who would want to be schooled by nuns in a cloistered environment? Most of her classmates hated the experience, but Clara loved learning and especially loved applying what she learned. It’s my mischievous streak that saved me.

“I killed that ghoul,” Ada whispered.

This revelation came as a surprise. However, Clara had no actual memories of the event, which lent credibility to the claim. All I remember are those glowing eyes…

“Thank you,” Clara said.

“What?” Ada asked, befuddled by the change in direction.

Clara had no desire to fight over the finer points of an event. Ada could have easily been telling the truth. If anything, it cleared up vital details from that part of her life.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Clara repeated. “You stopped that thing from feeding off our mother and set me on a path where I could make a difference.”

Those words would soften the soul of any reasonable person. Alas, Ada screeched, evoking memories of a banshee. As she strained against the bindings, the knots tightened by design and held… Barely!

“That should have been me!” Ada yelled before spitting at Clara.

Instead of dodging, Clara remained where she was. The wad of spit found its mark on her cheek. While the cold liquid sent a chill down her spine as it slid down her bare skin, she would not let this devolve into a badly written drama. Clara calmly wiped it off with her hand.

In return, Ada cackled. This was not the sister Clara knew. All those years of hatred had left her twisted and bitter. That headstone is the best part of Ada left.

“How?” Clara countered.

“I should have—”

“Yes, you said that,” Clara said. “So, now tell me how it could have been you?”

“They would have admitted—”

Her sister was caught in a loop. Clara considered another slap, but further enraging Ada might cause those bindings to fail. It’s time to give her some perspective.

“That might have been true had you been my age,” Clara clarified. “Maria was already too old to attend. That’s why they sent her to work in a church-run laundry.”

“Lies!” Ada spat.

“You don’t remember?” Clara asked. “I often wondered why you sent us away, when you had a beau who could have supported what remained of our family.”

Clara sought to avoid playing the blame game, arguing endlessly over who was hurt more. However, she hoped a cold dose of reality would shake Ada out of her torpor. As a child, she accepted the situation as a lesson on how harsh life could be. She harboured no ill will toward her sister for choosing to start a new life. We did what we had to do.

However, Ada had a tainted view of the past. Her sister resented Clara for robbing her of a path to a better life. I probably would have never joined the order had Drusilla not crossed my path…

She knew the truth would have no sway over Ada. Drusilla must have spent years twisting her sister’s mind to believe that all her woes could be traced back to her little sister. There’s symmetry to this; both our lives were permanently altered on account of Drusilla.

“What would you have to gain by changing places?” Clara asked.

“It was better than losing a husband and making ends meet like Mom…”

The confirmation of her worst fears filled Clara’s stomach with bile. She sometimes hated being right, and this was no exception. Still, The Tower was not some luxury resort; it forged hunters, conditioning them to put their rather short lives on the line for the greater good. Evelyn was right, most of us were martyrs.

“You know what I remember of The Tower?” Before Ada could reply, Clara added, “Meagre rations.”

While it was not analogous with that scene from Oliver Twist, there were no fat hunters. I often had to skip meals just to get to my lessons.

“Brutal training,” Clara added. “Some acolytes were driven mad just trying to handle the course load.”

All that combat training, like hand-to-hand, improvised weaponry, and firearms training. Given the environment, she was surprised the body count had not been higher. Perhaps I should’ve asked why so many students went missing.

“The endless lies,” Clara said. “Sold as the one truth.”

This was more than a few white lies. Acolytes were told ghosts did not exist, and any books that went counter to dogma disappeared.

“When I was Maria’s age, I was nearly raped and killed by a vampire,” Clara said. “I wasn’t even a full hunter back then.”

It was hard to dwell on that moment, being nearly killed by her first crush, one turned by Drusilla. She had been lucky, considering the stacks of tableaux mort made for every girl he murdered. She could still remember the details of those paintings, how they captured their last moments of lives spent in agony.

“Fighting in the Great War,” Clara continued.

Even as a hunter, she had seen more than her fair share of death. Alas, a nurse working near the front lines turned out to be the perfect cover for female hunters.

“Watching friends and acquaintances die or vanish,” Clara added.

So many dead, turned, or worse.

“I beat the odds and lived longer than most,” Clara said. “I never made it to forty.”

Then there was her defining trait.

“I was driven by their praise, and for that I never looked back,” Clara finished. “I left scores of broken people in my wake, including you.”

Ada’s eyes softened for a moment as those words sunk in. Once again, a reasonable person might have realised The Tower was neither glorious nor a healthy environment to grow up in… Ada was taught to feed off her hate, not to see reason.

“Liar!” Ada yelled.

What had been said was all for naught. Clara peered past the flesh in search of a trace of her soul. That would be Ada’s singular connection with what once made her human. The angel hoped it would shine the way to her sister’s salvation, beckoning her to choose a better path.

Instead, Clara stared into the void. It was as though Ada’s skeleton was crawling with tenebrous serpents. They writhed and constricted the structure, creating fissures over the sun-bleached bones. All to ensure their victim was perpetually aligned away from the light.

She knew there was no way of getting through to her sister in this state. However, Clara would not be the one to burn a bridge today.

“Fine,” Clara said before letting out all the air from her lungs.

Clara grabbed her crucifix and nicked a strand of rope. That ensured the bindings would give with some effort. However, Ada cringed in response, afraid to look, as though Clara would slit her throat.

“There’s a blood bag on the table and a bunch more in the fridge behind the bar,” Clara said.

Tired of this shit, Clara did an about face. It was time to move on.

“You’re letting me go?” Ada asked.

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Clara echoed.

Clara headed toward the doors. She knew Evelyn would watch her back. She hoped her sister would realise this was an act of compassion and leave humbled. However, hate was a powerful motivator, and Clara was ready for that eventuality.

“W-w-w-why?” Ada asked.

Clara paused just long enough to respond.

“When you see reason,” Clara said, “you’ll know where to find me.”

There came the sounds of rope straining beyond its breaking point. Here we go…

“Don’t you DARE take the high road with me!” Ada yelled while loosening her bindings.

“Don’t start a war—”

“Behind you!” Evelyn warned.

Ada barrelled down on the angel, but Clara faded out of existence. The elder sister passed through the vestiges of Clara’s form, stopping only to avoid running into the wall. When she turned around, there was no trace left of the youngest.

“—that you aren’t able to finish…” Clara said from beyond the veil.

Ada screeched. Those last words echoed through the empty hall. The walls reverberated with her fury. Even the dead would give her a wide berth, as Ada left a path of destruction that stretched on for miles.

* * * *

Clara faced the broken window on the observation deck. She leaned forward, let gravity take over, and spread out her wings. The sun was still high in the sky, and she wanted a view from one of the green copper roofs.

“Scorched earth…” Clara said.

Surrounded by the snowcapped Rockies, The Grand overlooked a valley covered in what had once been pristine forests and rivers. So much death for such a beautiful setting.

Instead, the forest was on fire, ravaging most of The Grand’s lands and beyond. The winds flattened the smoke, creating the illusion of a fog. However, from this vantage point, the outer edges of the inferno were visible. It’s like finding myself in one of the levels of hell.

“Despite the fires of Hades raging below, it’s cool up here in the wind,” Clara said as her skin turned once more to gooseflesh.

She noticed there was a highway that cut through the valley. Off in the distance, there were emergency vehicles blocking access. The fire must have jumped the divider, because in some areas the highway disappeared from sight entirely.

Closer to her there were visible breaches in the wall in the upper gardens. The road leading up to the hotel was littered with crushed cars, bikes, and trucks, along with the remnants of what looked to the gargoyles. Someone put up one hell of a fight.

“So, you let her go?” Evelyn asked.

The answer was obvious, since Ada was still on the premises. What Evelyn was looking for was the reason for showing mercy to a sworn enemy.

“She’s my sister,” Clara said. “Anyone who believes my life was all peaches and cream must have been dealt a bad hand.”

“She’s dangerous,” Evelyn said. “She learned from the best and will bide her time—”

“Then she will inherit my burden,” Clara replied. “Hecate, Bastet, and any other god I take off the board. That will quickly give her reason to regret satiating her thirst for revenge.”

There was a long pause. Clara closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face. Given enough time out here, her dress might actually dry out. Albeit with a distinct scent of wood smoke embedded into the fibres.

“But, you’ll die,” Evelyn said.

“What of it?” Clara asked. “I’ve died before and I will again. Living isn’t about evading death at all costs.”

Clara figured one of them would quickly forget what it meant to be mortal. That spark of life, the need to be more than a background character…all of that extinguished by their lust for power. I can’t let that happen to me.

“It’s about facing Death, looking him straight in the eyes, and daring him to reap you. As long as you leave the world better than you left it, you’ll come out ahead.”

There was no reply. Clara suspected Evelyn had been given more food for thought than she could chew in one sitting. Or found a loophole, like she did for Julia…

“I think you took my advice too literally,” a man said.

Clara recognised the voice. She turned to find the man’s features marred by the sunlight. Isn’t he just a ray of sunshine? Wait…I think Ray suits him just fine.

“I prefer clear and precise instructions,” Clara replied.

“Pardon?” Evelyn asked.

“What you seek can be found where your past and reality diverge,” Ray said.

Clara blinked, and just like that the man was gone. I really need to get my hands on a decoder ring.

“Cryptic as ever,” Clara mused.

“Who are you talking to?” Evelyn asked.

“Ray,” Clara said. “The man who hides in the sunlight.”

“Clara?” Evelyn asked. “We didn’t hear a thing, and there was no one on camera.”

Curiouser and curiouser.

“Thank you,” Clara said to change the subject. “I really needed that extra set of eyes.”

“De rien, ma chère,” Evelyn said. “Oh! I have news. The facility holding Julia captive was burned to the ground. All the women were accounted for, save for one.”

“Julia?” Clara confirmed.

“Who else?”

“That’s great news!” Clara lied.

It was good, but not great. The latter was only possible had she taken the lead on a rescue mission. I may have vowed to never kill humans, but that doesn’t stop me from shooting kneecaps and breaking bones…

“There’s work left for me here,” Clara said.

She hoped being busy would keep the maelstrom of emotions at bay. I need to learn to live with my fuckups. That includes what happened here, with Julia, and with Elizabeth…whom I could not even compose a last goodbye for.

“Time to sign off,” Clara added.

“Will I see you again?” Evelyn asked.

Clara could have sworn the biscuit had been holding her breath as she worked up the courage to ask. She must have been worried Clara would leave her high and dry… Again.

“I guarantee it,” Clara said. “I promised Eleanor I’d help with the lost souls here.”

“That’s a tall order.”

“True,” Clara said. “I’ll be sure to call.”

“Deal!”

There came a long pause on the line. It left Clara with the impression they were disconnected.

“Je t’aime,” Evelyn said, which was immediately followed by the sound of the line dropping.

Clara gasped. Her eyes widened before tearing up. That was huge for the both of them. Evelyn had taken a leap of faith but could not bear the thought of hearing Clara reject her. I care for her, but my heart…

“Quod est quaestio in alium diem,” Clara said in a rusty Latin. That’s a problem for another day.

“That is putting it mildly,” Eleanor said. “Ready?”

“What about Ada?” Clara asked without turning around.

“I placed her in a bubble,” Eleanor said. “I’ll release her when we are done.”

“Excellent!” Clara exclaimed. “Time to free some spirits.”

Clara’s eyes went over her wet, black dress and gooseflesh. Her eyes bulged at the sight of all she had on display. While it would have worked beautifully as a subterfuge, it did nothing for her long term. Besides, my girls won’t forgive me if I stay taped up for much longer.

“Do you know if they have a store at the hotel?” Clara asked.

“I do,” Eleanor replied. “If it pleases the goddess, I can lead the way.”

“Stop that,” Clara said before putting on a warm smile. “It’s just Clara.”

As a look of pure and utter horror fell upon the angel of death’s face, Clara could not help but laugh.

* * * *

Evelyn clicked off the live feed, ending her link with Clara. She had taken a leap of faith but was not ready for an answer. Besides, Clara will need a bit to digest what was said.

There came a breeze behind her and she knew the source. Marc must have sensed her emotional distress and returned to investigate. The only detail that worried Evelyn was whether he knew the reason. It was fortunate her sire expected her to maintain a mask. Deception must be practised at every opportunity.

“What’s wrong?” Marc asked after he noticed all the screens were blank.

“Ada lives…” Evelyn said to divert his attention.

“I told—” Marc said.

“Oh, stop that,” Evelyn snapped, feeding from her actual emotional state to further throw him off. “It won’t be a problem.”

“Pray, tell me why Ada won’t launch an assault on our domicile?”

That was a valid question, considering their former home had been blown to kingdom come when her forces raided it. Marc, ever cautious of giving an opponent an edge, had taken precautions by laying traps in the home they built up for fifty-three years.

The plan worked perfectly, and the radioactive element attached to the charges meant the survivors could be tracked—which their assets, including Grace, did off stage to further confuse Ada and her allies.

“For one,” Evelyn said, “Ada is now out in the light. Her allies will distance themselves from anyone who puts up such a pitiful display.”

Ada used raw brutality and fear to get what she wanted. Now that the world knew she was nothing more than a petulant child hellbent on revenge, they would steer clear of her.

“That’s mildly reassuring,” Marc said.

“Second,” Evelyn said, “with blood in the water, I’m certain there will be a power struggle within their lines.”

“You better have something more than this to offer.”

It was rare for Marc to assert his role as sire and Evelyn was well aware of that. She had grown in her role as a vampire and often made the key decisions on how they would move forward. It was her humanity that enabled them to carry on with the struggle without soaking the world in the blood of innocents.

That was one reason they needed Clara on her side. The Valkyrie’s actions did not reflect against their kind. Not to mention, no one else she knew could have pulled off that stunt at The Grand without suffering heavy losses. She inflicted more damage in one day than werewolves managed in a century.

“Lastly,” Evelyn said and purposefully left that hanging for several seconds. “Ada is a valid target.”

“Clara will be pissed,” Marc countered.

“No,” Evelyn said. “She won’t.”

“What makes you—”

Evelyn used the swivel on her chair to turn around and face Marc. Now it was time to look him straight in the eye to sell both her deception and their way ahead.

“Remember Elizabeth?” Evelyn asked.

“Your fuck toy?”

Evelyn did not betray any emotion, but she was surprised he would go so low, although she suspected he was trying to rattle her cage and see what shook loose. Not today, mon cher.

“Clara gave me a very clear ultimatum related to her,” Evelyn said. “Not only was I to look after her, but she would come calling if anything ever happened to her.”

“And?”

Evelyn took on a very sly grin, as though she was the one holding all the cards. In this particular case, she was.

“There were no such restrictions placed upon me for Ada,” Evelyn said. “If she crosses our paths again, I’ll make sure she ends up back in her tomb.”

“I—”

“Satisfied?” Evelyn asked.

“For now,” Marc replied, and walked back out the door.

Evelyn adopted her trademark smile. She knew what he meant by that answer. In truth, he was disappointed he could not use the I-told-you-so line against her.

“Good,” Evelyn said.

* * * *

“Dammit,” Clara swore from within the depths of Evelyn’s bedroom.

It had been two weeks since returning from The Grand, but she could still not write something to Elizabeth. Every day a blank conversation stared at her, taunting her.

Evelyn had been overjoyed to see Clara again. Especially when the angel materialised right into the living room. However, Marc was far more concerned, because he distrusted anyone a good fence could not keep at bay.

Evelyn never repeated what was said at the end of the mission. Although, their interactions changed. Sex had always been fun, and fulfilling, but there was a lot more emotion to it now. Clara had seen the amount of passion Evelyn poured into her art, but that was nothing compared to what was reserved for Clara. Every day, I dig myself deeper into a hole…

The frustrated Clara sighed deeply and slipped the phone back into her pack. Two weeks with Evelyn, while blissful, was long enough. Any longer, and she risked losing herself entirely to the other. I’m not sure that I’d mind…it’s such a beautiful cage.

That was not who Clara was. The evidence had been at the tip of her nose the entire time. Namely, the inability for her to reach out to the woman she wanted. Clara had tried her hand at normal, just another face in the crowd. She had done her best to be happy, to devote herself entirely to another. I did the same with Edith, and I’m doing the same with Evelyn.

“I failed,” Clara whispered. “Every single time.”

She was a hunter, an angel, and was embracing her role as a goddess. None of that screamed normal, and it was high time she accepted it.

“It’s time to make a difference,” Clara said.

There were footsteps in the distance. Evelyn always left for her studio dressed for the catwalk. However, she often returned barefoot and naked, covered head to toe in paint or dust. Those poor sheets don’t stand a chance…

Without the heavy echo of heels, Clara assumed she would get an eyeful. She was pleasantly rewarded when the door opened, showing the outline of a subtle hourglass shape, that trademark smile that promised so much, and not a stitch of clothing.

“There you are!” Evelyn said.

“I wasn’t hiding,” Clara replied. “It’s rather foolish to hide in your bedroom.”

“You mean our—”

Those piercing green eyes had settled on the backpack leaning against their bed. Clara was also dressed for an outing, including a leather jacket designed to accommodate her wings, which were visible.

“Leaving?” Evelyn asked.

“I was waiting for you,” Clara said. “To tell you in person that it’s time.”

Evelyn’s eyes shimmered in the light as though she were about to cry, but she quickly restored her mask. It made for an interesting relationship, since neither Evelyn nor Clara were ever truly themselves. It was a challenge to open up to someone who perpetually wore a mask. I don’t think I’ll ever see the real Evelyn, just glimpses.

“I understand,” Evelyn said before flashing a smile.

To understand something and to accept it were entirely different matters. This was one of those moments where Clara gained a modicum of insight on the bouncing ball of emotions that was Evelyn. We have our appearances to keep.

Clara slipped off the edge of the bed. She was already wearing her black work boots. To be honest, she enjoyed the practicality of them, since they left a lasting impression on the bones of her enemies.

“I’d hug you,” Evelyn said, “but I’m covered—”

Clara wrapped her arms around the naked vampire and kissed her tenderly on the lips. Evelyn had indeed been covered in paint and Clara could taste it on those lips. No matter, they both needed this moment.

“They’re just clothes,” Clara said. “Besides…”

Clara leaned in close enough to whisper into Evelyn’s ear. While those lips brushed against her skin, Clara sounded far, far away.

“The rain tonight will wash it all away,” Clara whispered. “Thinking of you will keep me warm.”

Evelyn pulled away and clasped her hands behind her back to bring out her chest. To add to the overall effect, she also adopted a faux pout. It was all for show, but effective. Evelyn broke decorum and fell into a giggle, pecking Clara on the cheeks.

“Viens,” Evelyn said before grabbing Clara’s hands.

Clara turned back after remembering her pack. She broke away momentarily to grab it and retook Evelyn’s hand.

“Can’t forget that,” Evelyn said.

There was no giggle, and Clara suspected the omission had been intentional. She hoped I’d spend another night with her…and another.

“Where to?” Clara asked.

“The roof,” Evelyn answered in those musical tones. “Best place to take off from.”

“Always thinking.”

They walked to the elevator in silence. When the doors slid open, the biscuit led on. As the car went up, Evelyn wrapped her hands around Clara’s side.

Clara kissed Evelyn on the forehead and smiled. She had been truthful back in that cache. While she did not want the vampire, she desperately needed her.

“I’ll miss you,” Clara said to smooth things over.

“I know,” Evelyn said with a meek smile.

The doors opened, and Clara moved forward to take the lead. However, Evelyn bullied her way past, and opened the door that led onto the roof.

A wall of wind and rain hit them both. With it came thousands of scents carried by random gusts of wind. I can smell four dishes from four different restaurants from right here. Rain fell from the heavens, with every droplet reflecting the surrounding cityscape.

“Tears from the heavens,” Clara mused.

Evelyn elbowed Clara in the ribs and pouted.

“I’m the artiste, ma chère,” Evelyn said.

The paint was already running off Evelyn’s body, leaving a slick of colours around her. What remained was a flawless canvas that reflected the city lights around them. Clara bit her lower lip but fought back against giving into her desires. She was determined to follow through on leaving tonight. This beautiful spider is doing her best to keep this fly in her web.

“We each have our roles,” Clara said. “Don’t we?”

The curl on the edges of Evelyn’s lip flattened for a moment. The biscuit had unwittingly backed herself into the corner, leaving Clara with an out.

“Oui,” Evelyn said. “Where will you go?”

“I’m not sure,” Clara said honestly. “I want to find out what happened to The Tower. From there, who knows?”

“Go wherever your heart leads,” Evelyn said.

“That includes our bedroom,” Clara said. “I’ll keep in touch.”

“Merci.”

They made their way to the landing pad. There was no bird on deck, on account of the building still being under construction. So, they were free to enjoy their view of the city distorted by the driving rain. Clara found the vista unexpectedly beautiful. Stay strong, stay strong, stay strong…

Clara stopped when they reached the edge. She leaned in for another kiss. It was tentative, and gentle, but she let Evelyn take the lead. Their tongues were soon involved in an intricate dance that neither wished to end.

Only when Clara’s lungs burned for air did she break free. She smirked, leaned backward, and shot straight down the side of the building. The wind rushed past as she gained speed, and once she reached terminal velocity, she opened her wings.

Clara gained altitude on momentum alone. By the time she reached apogee, Clara was back at eye level with Evelyn. The biscuit’s eyes were moist, using the rain to camouflage her tears. She won’t show vulnerability again until I reciprocate.

“I will always need you, Evelyn,” Clara said.

The angel smiled, winked, and turned into a dive. Now was a good time to remind people that the Valkyrie was still amongst them. Tonight, she would fly past cars and people at street level. May as well have a bit of fun!

LEXICON

A Snap

Something which is quick or easy.

Ab-so-lute-ly

Agreement in the affirmative.

Absent Treatment

Dancing with a bashful partner.

Airtight

Someone who is extremely desirable or attractive.

Attaboy

A congratulatory statement.

Balled Up

Confused and/or messed up.

Baloney

Complete nonsense.

Baby

Another word for sweetheart. Can also be used to denote something of high value or respect.

Baby Vamp

A woman considered attractive or popular.

Bank’s Closed

Not interested in kissing or fooling around.

Barneymugging

Euphemism for sex.

Beat It

Another word for go away.

Batty

Driving someone crazy.

Bee’s Knees

Excellent or very high quality.

Berries

Someone attractive or pleasing, or another word for great.

Berry Patch

Euphemism for a woman’s genital area.

Betty

An attractive woman.

Billboard

A flashy man or woman.

Bimbo

Slang for a tough guy.

Bingo

Used to express satisfaction at a sudden positive outcome.

Bird

A term for someone odd or strange.

Bird Cage

Elevator car.

Biscuit

A pettable flapper.

Black Tuesday

Also known as the Great Crash of 1929.

Blower

Slang for the telephone.

Blowhard

A braggart and/or a bully.

Bootleg

Alcohol that has been illegally produced.

Bronx Cheer

Loud sputtering noise to show disapproval. Also known as a raspberry.

Bub

Often used as an insolent term of address.

Bull

Slang referring to a police officer or another branch of law enforcement.

Bump in the Night

Unexplained and frightening noises at night, purportedly caused by ghosts.

Bumped Off

To have someone killed.

Bum’s Rush

To be forcibly removed from an establishment or locale.

Cable

Message sent by telegraph.

Cash

Euphemism for a kiss.

Caper

A criminal act which normally involves an elaborate plan.

Cat’s Meow

An excellent person or thing.

Chassis

Slang referring to the female form.

Cheque

Euphemism for saving a kiss for later.

Chippy

A woman who is the polar opposite of frigid.

Clip-Joint

A dance club filled with rich or sophisticated patrons.

Coffin Varnish

Moonshine.

Cool His Heels

Forced to wait.

Copacetic

That which is wonderful, fine or alright.

Cupid’s Bow

The way a flapper uses lipstick to make the bow more prominent, while also making their lips appear smaller.

Crashing the Party

The act of getting into a party in which one was not invited.

Daddy

A young woman’s boyfriend or lover, especially if he’s rich.

Dame

A lady.

Dapper

A flapper’s father.

Dead Hoofer

A lousy dancer.

Declaration of Independence

A divorce.

Di Mi

Dear me.

Dimbox

Slang for a taxi cab.

Dingle Dangler

Someone who insists on calling.

Doll

An attractive woman.

Doozie

Something that is big, complex, outstanding, or unique of its kind.

Dough

Slang for money.

Drugstore Cowboy

A man who tries to pick up women on a street corner.

Dumb Dora

A woman who is considered lacking in intellectual prowess.

Ducky

Great or wonderful. Can be used sarcastically to imply the opposite.

Edge

A term applied to the feeling of intoxication.

Electric Cure

As in, the electric chair; a permanent solution.

Face Stretcher

An older woman who adopts youthful fashions or wears heavy makeup to conceal her age.

Fancy Smancy

A derogatory way to refer to something high-class.

Finale Hopper

Someone who arrives after everything has been paid for.

Fire Extinguisher

A chaperone.

Flapper

A stylish, brash, hedonistic young woman with short skirts and shorter hair.

Flat Tyre

A dull-witted, insipid, and disappointing date.

Flivver

A Ford Model-T or any old car after 1928.

Flour Lover

Girl who is too liberal with the face powder.

Four-Flusher

A term applied to cheats, swindlers, and liars.

Gams

A woman’s legs.

Getaway sticks

A woman’s legs.

Giggle Water

An alcoholic drink.

Goofy

To be in love.

Hayburner

A vehicle that uses a lot of fuel.

Heater

Slang that is applied to firearms.

Heebie-Jeebies

Nervous or anxious.

Helluva

Alternate pronunciation for hell of a.

Hen Coop

A term referring to a beauty salon.

High-Hat

A snub.

Hit on All Sixes

Going full throttle or all out.

Hoity-Toity

Marked by an air of assumed importance.

Hole

Slang for solitary confinement in prison.

Hooch

Another term for bootleg alcohol.

Hoofer

Slang for a dancer.

Hoofing

The act of dancing.

Hoosegow

Slang for prison.

Horsefeathers

The equivalent of a modern swear word.

Indoor Aviator

Also known as an elevator operator. This is a play on the fact that their lives are composed of a series of ups and downs.

It

Slang for someone with sex appeal.

Jalopy

An old car or a beater.

Jane

A term applied to any female.

Juice Joint

Another name for a speakeasy.

Keen

Attractive or appealing.

Kick the Gong Around

Smoking opium.

Killjoy

A person who spoils other people’s fun or enjoyment.

Knee-Duster

Slang for a skirt.

Kodak Moment

A memorable moment that one would wish to capture on film.

Mad Money

Cab fare home if she gets in a dispute with her escort.

Make Do

Working with what one has.

Malarkey

Talk that is nonsensical.

Middle-Aisle

The act of getting married; walking down the middle-aisle at church.

Moll

A gangster’s girl.

Mistress Grundy

A priggish or extremely tight-laced person.

Munitions

Face powder and rouge.

Mustard Plaster

Someone who is not wanted and will not leave.

Neck

The act of kissing with passion.

Nobody Home

Describes someone who is dumb or dumbfounded.

Nertz

Used to express disgust, defiance, disapproval or despair.

Nervous Nellie

Timid or worrisome.

Off-Time Jive

To be inappropriate, impolite; to have bad manners.

On the Lam

Someone who is fleeing from the authorities.

On the Up and Up

Legitimate and above board.

Ossified

Someone who is intoxicated.

Palooka

An average or below average boxer.

Peashooter

The term for a firearm, normally of smaller calibres.

Petting

To make out or participate in foreplay.

Petting Party

A party where young couples make out.

Piece of the Action

Share of the profits or advantages generated by an activity.

Pill

A person who is generally unlikable.

Poufter

An effeminate male.

Pushover

Individuals who are easily convinced or seduced.

Quiff

A term applied to sexually active females.

Real McCoy

A term applied to an item that is genuine.

Ritzy

Based on the Hotel Ritz; implies elegance.

Rock of Ages

A middle-aged woman, usually over thirty.

Sap

Someone who is easily fooled.

Sapphic

Slang for a lesbian.

Says You

A reaction of disbelief.

Shell-Shocked

A term used during the Great War referring to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

Speakeasy

An illicit drinking establishment dealing in bootleg alcohol.

Spifflicated

Someone who is intoxicated.

Spiffy

Something that is elegant or opulent.

Stewbum

Someone from the dredges or an old drunken hobo.

Sure-Fire

Will not fail.

Swanky

A term similar to ritzy.

Talkie

Original term for movies where actors speak.

Take for a Ride

The final drive someone will take before they are murdered.

Tapped Out

Slang used to imply that one has no money.

Tarte

Slang for a prostitute.

Tits

Slang for breasts.

To a Tee

Something which is made or fits properly or to exact specifications.

Toe-to-Toe

Being in direct confrontation or opposition.

Torpedo

A hired gun or enforcer.

Tough

Too bad.

Townie

Someone from the city.

On the Up and Up

Open and honest.

Upchuck

Slang for the act of vomiting.

Wallflower

A person who stands apart from others during a dance or party.

Waterworks

Crying.

What am I, Chopped Liver?

Frustration or anger at being ignored on a social level.

ABOUT EVELYN CHARTRES

Evelyn Chartres is the nom de plume for a self-published Canadian author. The writer of eight Gothic fantasy novels, Evelyn released her debut novel, The Portrait, in 2016, and her latest, The Van Helsing Impetus, in 2023.

A fan of the phrase ‘live to eat’, Evelyn shares her recipes on evelynchartres.com. These recipes have a loose focus on French-Canadian cuisine, which feature deep-dish meat pies, seafood, and desserts that are rarely seen outside of La Belle Province.

Evelyn is currently living in Ottawa, Ontario, and is busy laying the foundations for her next book featuring Marc.

Follow Evelyn on Facebook

http://www.facebook.com/theportraitofawoman

Follow Evelyn on Instagram

http://www.instagram.com/authorevelynchartres/

Follow Evelyn on Twitter

http://twitter.com/EvelynChartres

Visit Evelyn’s Website

http://evelynchartres.com

ALSO, FROM EVELYN CHARTRES

THE PORTRAIT

“A vision from the past becomes a writer's deadly obsession.”

The Portrait is a Gothic fantasy about Victoria Frost, an author who develops an unhealthy obsession for her character. As events unfold, her infatuation sours, forcing Victoria to question her sanity. Is she simply slipping into madness, or is there something else at play?

The Portrait features a mixture of contemporary and historical scenes brought forward as Victoria explores the world of her muse. Using both prose and art, every scene yields a new piece of the puzzle, providing insights on the origins of her character's portrait and its featured model.

Discover how a vision from the past becomes a writer's deadly obsession.

THE GRAND

“Even things that go bump in the night need a place to unwind.”

You will find The Grand nestled atop a cliff that overlooks a cursed valley. Surrounded by foreboding mountains, this ritzy French palatial-style hotel is a place where a roaring party’s success is measured by its body count. This hotel does not cater to the rich or famous. Instead, its staff and facilities serve a clientele with a more discerning palate.

The Grand is a collection of Gothic fantasy stories with an overarching storyline that incorporates supernatural themes. The Roaring Twenties serves as a rich historical, linguistic, and cultural backdrop.

Centred on the victims, each story brings a unique perspective to the hotel, the staff, and their esteemed guests. At The Grand, it is best to remember: Even things that go bump in the night need a place to unwind.

THE VAN HELSING PARADOX

“A gal has to look out for herself, after all.”

Clara Grey’s parents once said that the world was a dark and dangerous place. There was more truth than fiction in those words. There were things that lurked in the shadows which defied the laws of nature: perversions that fed on the dead, terrorised the living, or escaped the chill touch of the grave.

Clara is a member of The Tower, a religious order of hunters who work outside the confines of the Church. As keepers of the arcane, her order takes an active role in countering such threats. Alas, the life of a hunter can be short, and many go missing before they are ready to serve. So, what does it take to succeed against all odds?

Explore Clara’s origin, a child born before the dawn of the twentieth century. Witness her rigorous education, how she faces adversity, and how she fights in the Great War to become the derringer-wielding flapper she is.

Throughout her tale, keep in mind: No matter the threat, a gal has to look out for herself, after all.

THE VAN HELSING RESURGENCE

“While the Roaring Twenties are long gone, a heroine’s work is never done.”

Clara Grey was a hunter and part of a secret organisation known only as The Tower. During the Roaring Twenties, she sacrificed herself to destroy a powerful vampire. As a reward, she joined the ranks of Heaven’s army, and for ninety years, Clara yearned to take an active role in the mortal realm.

In an attempt to alter the course of history, scientists trigger an experiment with devastating results. The effects are felt not only on Earth, but in other realms as well.

Clara and an echo from her past are sent to Earth to investigate the case of a stolen soul. For this transgression, Heaven could go to war, but they choose to send Clara—and Edith. They fall to Earth, focused on their mission.

Both had been isolated from the mortal realm for generations. In their lifetimes, monsters were on the decline, but learn how much the modern world has changed. While navigating this alien land, will they adapt to their surroundings to fulfil their mission? Or be swallowed up by the evil that lurks in the shadows?

Before reading on, be sure to remember: While the Roaring Twenties are long gone, a heroine’s work is never done.

THE VAN HELSING INCURSION

“Hunting things that go bump in the night is child's play when compared to juggling relationships.”

During the Roaring Twenties, Clara Grey hunted things that went bump in the night. On her last mission, she paid the ultimate price to rid the world of a powerful foe. As a reward, she ascended to Heaven and joined its ranks as an angel.

Ninety years after her death, Clara fell to Earth, intent on saving a soul. While successful, killing an old god in self-defence barred her from returning to Heaven. Lost in the modern world, Clara was forced to seek unlikely allies to navigate through these uncertain times.

Four months later, Clara has settled in with Elizabeth, a young woman she saved shortly after descending to Earth. For a gal who had sworn off anything that hinted at normalcy, Clara learns that being average takes more effort than she suspected.

Alas, repercussions from choices made on that fateful mission have not been idle. Her enemies trigger a chain of events that force our fated femme fatale to act. Is Clara prepared to deal with the fallout? Will her allies come to her aid? Or must she stand on her own?

Before reading on, be sure to consider: Hunting things that go bump in the night is child’s play when compared to juggling relationships.

HIGH WATER MARK

“When humanity has been driven into the sea, what lurks above the waves?”

Anna is a humanoid mermaid who spends her days with the local timekeeper until a podmate comes to her with a proposal. They hatch a plan to head out into the watery ruins of humanity in search of lost technology and materials. For a young mermaid living in the dredges of society, the promise of riches from such a find is just too good to pass up.

Armed with nothing more than an old map and some rusty road signs to follow, they are soon reminded that adventure often brings forth more than its fair share of rough waters. Her friend gets captured, leaving Anna alone in a world where mermaids are nowhere near the top of the food chain.

Follow Anna as she makes landfall and learns why her ancestors abandoned the surface. Lost in a world that is perpetually covered in a thick fog, Anna must navigate through what remains above the high-water mark. What will she find? An ally? A foe? Or will she find nothing but death and destruction?

Before reading on, be sure to consider: With humanity driven into the sea, what lurks above the waves?

DARK HEARTS

“She may look like the Little Red Riding Hood, but she really is the wolf!”

Julia is a werewolf who turned against her pack and saved an innocent life. As a reward for her good deed, she ends up in prison, but thrives while others like her waste away.

On the eve of a full moon, an unknown benefactor arranges for Julia’s release. Faced with the prospect of returning to the city that nearly killed her, she opts to disappear into the surrounding woods.

This is the opportunity she needs to find herself and reconnect with the wild. As her past resurfaces, the supernatural and dark elements within humanity take notice of her.

Before reading on, be sure to consider: She may look like the Little Red Riding Hood, but she really is the wolf.

LICENCE

The Van Helsing Impetus is a work of fiction. All characters, organisations and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblances to reality are purely coincidental.

All images and text herein are copyrighted:

The Van Helsing Impetus

Copyright © 2023 by

Evelyn Chartres (Nom de plume)

theportraitofawoman@gmail.com

All rights reserved.

Draft2Digital – First Edition – ISBN 978-1-7386843-3-5

Cover art designed by Amy Queau

http://qcoverdesign.com

All emojis designed by OpenMoji – the open-emoji and icon project. Licence: CC BY-SA 4.0

Table of Contents

TITLE PAGE

ABOUT

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

NOTE

THE VAN HELSING IMPETUS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

LEXICON

ABOUT EVELYN CHARTRES

ALSO, FROM EVELYN CHARTRES

LICENCE