by Sean Davies
“What do ya think of her?” Seth asked as they pulled away.
“Who?” Genie looked around, baffled.
“My jeep,” Seth said proudly.
“It’s nice,” Genie replied with a shrug. Cars were the least of her concerns.
“Nice,” Seth scoffed. “She’s armoured, with bullet proof glass, and a fully leather interior. Even got an in-built CD player… and you call her nice…”
Genevieve rolled her eyes and stayed quiet until they arrived at the Woodsholme Grill. The journey was so short that they could have walked there instead and only lost a few minutes, and Genie assumed Seth just wanted to show off his motor. Seth parked up right in front of the entrance, and headed inside without a word. Genie jumped out and followed.
The restaurant hadn’t changed much since Genevieve had seen it a few days beforehand, back when gangs of humans had been her biggest worry. There were barely any people inside, which was odd for a weekend night, and most of them had red, purple, or yellow eyes. Archie and Chaz were drinking moodily at the counter, and someone else shouted out that the boss had arrived.
Seth took a small table by the window and gestured for Genie to join him. She dragged her chair out and sat down opposite him expectantly. He didn’t say a word, but instead began clicking his fingers rudely in the air.
Dane came rushing over, and Genie noticed he was bruised all over and had a nasty black eye. He glanced fearfully towards Genevieve but then turned to Seth with a smile. “Yes, sir, what can I get for you?”
Genevieve noticed that Dane was missing several teeth, and she gave her previous employer a sympathetic look.
“Two steaks, and make hers extra bloody. I want regular fries and she’ll have curly ones,” Seth ordered aggressively. “Bring some champagne, and spike it red – we’re celebrating.”
“Are we?” Genie asked grumpily as Dane scuttled off. “And where’s Eryn?”
“We gave her a choice,” Seth smirked. “Work for us or get the fuck out. She’s probably a million miles away now, but luckily we found out where good old Dane lives. He decided to stay on, after a bit of gentle persuasion.”
Genevieve grumbled disapprovingly. “So… what am I?” she asked. She’d had enough of the waiting game and wanted answers.
“Don’t you watch telly?” Seth laughed loudly. “You’re a Vampire, duh!”
Genie wasn’t that shocked, after what she’d experienced in the apartment. “I thought so, but there was so much other stuff that I’d never heard about. My hair was moving around like it was possessed, I had a mouth full of fangs, I… I wanted to eat people!”
“That’s cos you were turning into a Feral,” Seth replied frankly, as though they were discussing the weather. “If you don’t get blood, that’s what’ll happen.”
“I thought Vampires were just meant to dry up or something?” She still couldn’t believe she was using fictional knowledge to assess her own situation.
“Nah, that’s all bullshit. Only happens if you start gushing out blood faster than you can self-heal – then you’ll be nothin’ but a pile of dust within minutes, so avoid getting any deep cuts when there’s no one around to patch you up. Same as when you were human,” Seth advised with a chuckle. “The reason we need to top up with fresh blood is to stay human, in appearance and in ya head. When it runs low we become like… a pure Vampire. The hunger consumes you, and you end up feasting on anything living. Flesh, bones, and all. There’s no coming back after that. Us Supernaturals call ‘em Ferals. Something similar happens to the other lot too, except they don’t drink blood to fight it off, obviously.”
Genie raised an eyebrow. “Supernaturals?”
“Vampires, Mages, and Werewolves,” Seth explained. “All real. Look, here’s a Mage right now.”
He gestured over to the staff area door where Genie’s old life had ended, and a stunning woman with waist-length blue and purple hair walked over from it. She was wearing a short, glittering blue sequined dress, and tall blue stiletto heels that clicked and clacked on the hardwood flooring. Genevieve recognised her from the night she was turned, except now the long-legged woman had purple irises which were an identical shade as Chaz’s.
“Everything okay, boss?” the woman asked while scowling critically at Genevieve.
“Yeah, girl,” Seth said, running his hand up and down her side. “Just getting the new recruit up to speed.”
“She doesn’t look like much,” the woman sneered.
“She has a name,” Genevieve snapped.
“Play nice, girls, you’re getting me all excited!” Seth chuckled. “Genevieve, Scythe. Scythe, Genevieve,” he introduced them both merrily.
“Nice name,” Genevieve said sarcastically,
“Funny, I was going to say the same to you,” Scythe glared.
“Show her what you can do,” Seth said eagerly to Scythe. “She’s never seen a Mage in action before.”
“Anything for you, Seth,” Scythe replied flirtatiously.
The female Mage held out her hand, cool blue vapour rose down the length of her arm, and frost began forming on her hand. Suddenly, a long blade of ice had grown in Scythe’s palm, and she brandished it like a sword.
“Most Mages are all about the ranged destruction,” Scythe explained musingly. “I prefer getting nice and close, it always surprises my opponents…”
The icy blade swung towards Genie’s neck, but as the young Vampire’s adrenaline surged, the world around her seemed to slow down. Genevieve leapt from her chair and somersaulted over the Mage. Following her instincts, Genie elongated her nails and thrust them towards the back of Scythe’s neck. The Mage upped her game and abandoned her ice blade. In a flash of well-practised movement, she swung around with blade-like talons of her own, forged from bone-chilling ice, and aimed them towards Genie’s neck. The two opponents stopped their attacks just shy of each other’s jugulars, and they glared fiercely at one another.
“Can I get a tape of this for later?” Seth joked while clapping slowly. “Now, Genevieve, sit your sweet ass back down. Scythe, fuck off back upstairs,” he said in a more threatening tone.
Scythe’s ice magic shattered into thousands of frosty particles and she stormed off, but not before giving Genie a filthy look.
Genevieve retracted her nails and sat back down opposite Seth.
“Now… where were we?” he pondered.
“Supernaturals,” Genie said in a daze, still startled by her own natural skills.
“Right, so, us Vamps have red eyes, Mages have purple, and Werewolves have yellow ones.”
“Why haven’t I ever noticed before?” Genevieve asked. The restaurant had been filled with them on her last night as a human, but they’d all looked relatively normal. “How hasn’t anyone else noticed by now?”
“People can only see the proper colour if they’re a fellow Supernatural, or in the know about them. Like, Dane definitely knows what we are now,” he said as Genevieve’s former manager delivered their drinks, “and he definitely sees red eyes. Don’t you, Dane?”
“Yes sir, very red, sir,” Dane stuttered fearfully before hurrying back to the kitchen.
“It’s a type of offuse… obsfusiation…” Seth stammered.
“Obfuscation?” Genie corrected.
Seth nodded. “Yeah, obfuscation magic that’s hardwired into us all, like a survival mechanism to help us blend in or something.”
Genevieve looked down at the sparkling red liquid. “Do you drink everything with blood in it?”
“Not all the time, it just saves having two drinks on the go.” Seth took a sip of the champagne and gestured for Genevieve to do the same.
Genie took a small sip at first and then a bigger gulp when she got the taste of blood. The mix of blood and champagne was surprisingly good.
Seth took another mouthful and then continued his ongoing explanation. “So, Vampires have three main skillsets and we’re all naturally attuned to one after we’re transformed, but it ain’t
set in stone if you feel like training in the others. You’ve got your Ironfangs, who play on the more aggressive side of the tracks. They can bulk themselves up, toughen their hides, grow their claws and fangs longer and sharper than the rest of us… they sort of go a bit feral without becoming a Feral. Then there’s Bloodmages, who use spells that either focus on damaging or healing blood – kinda self-explanatory – and the good ones can ramp up their brains to move things and get inside ya head.”
“Telekinesis and telepathy?” Genie corrected again.
“Yep, those are the ones.” Seth gave her a thumbs-up. “Now, we’re Nightclaws. Masters of dexterity, speed, and stealth. Some of us can do the whole bat-swarm transformation thing, and most of us can even melt into the shadows themselves. We’re the Vampires with style and grace.”
Genevieve critically eyed the gaudy macho Vampire with his metallic gold hair and gilded fangs, and wondered how he could use ‘style and grace’ to define himself while sober. “Cool!” she replied disingenuously.
“Werewolves are similar,” Seth continued, unabated. “Their Brutebeasts are like the ones in the made-up bullshit fairy-tales and television crap. Lumbering, hairy, half man and half wolf hulks with claws and fangs that can tear your head clean off. Then there’s Swiftpaws, the Werewolf version of us Nightclaws, and they transform into big but really, really quick four-legged wolves, or other four-legged animals. Lastly, there’s the Shamans, and they use their magic to control nature, wind and lightning, that kinda shit. They’re also cracking healers. If they wanna transform, they can choose pretty much anything living.”
“What about the Mages?” Genevieve asked.
“Mages are just Mages,” Seth replied. “They usually pick a category or two, like fire, electricity, ice, or just plain old kinetic force, and stick with it. There’s some out there that can do some seriously crazy and messed up shit, though. If you’ve got the talent and the power then the sky’s the limit for dreaming up new spells.”
Genevieve wrapped her mind around the influx of new information. She still had a thousand questions, but one popped into the forefront of her mind. “If you Supernaturals are all around us, then why haven’t you just… taken over?”
“Us Supernaturals,” Seth said with a smile; it was his turn to correct. “You’re on this side of the fence now, Genevieve.”
“Right,” she grimaced. None of it seemed truly real yet.
“Some of us lot have tried over the centuries,” Seth said, answering her previous question, “but they’re mostly stand-alone psychotic nut-jobs that get taken out by the Trinity of Old, the Supernaturals that call themselves our rulers. You see, all that stuff in the films and books about wooden stakes, silver arrows and bullets, blessed water, symbols of the Twin Goddesses – it’s all bollocks. The thing that really fucks the three Supernatural races up is a nasty substance called Sanctium. They say even a tiny drop can burn us up like we’re made of paper, and the Trinity hold the only known remaining stash of it.”
“So, do as they say or end up as ashes,” Genevieve said fatally.
Seth nodded. “It’s kept them in power for a very long time, and they just love to preach about the importance of staying hidden and how we should all be down in their underground tunnels. You know I said some Mages can do some whacky stuff? Well, their Mage leader Silvario can mess with teleportation, and he set up the Catacombs, a massive collection of underground tunnels and complexes that are all connected by portals, and they span the whole world!”
Genie was impressed, but something didn’t quite add up. “If this Trinity of Old want you to stay underground, and they have Sanctium, why aren’t you – I mean we – dead?”
“Politics,” Seth sneered. “It all goes back to the Great War. An unruly but popular Werewolf named Kaine decided to use the global chaos to get more surface time. One thing led to another and before you know it he’s working as a mercenary for the Imperian forces. More Supernaturals followed suit, and eventually the Autocrat got ‘em on retainer.”
“Supernaturals fought in the Great War?!” Genie gasped.
“Yeah; The Dogs of War,” Seth smiled, enjoying her reaction. “They’re still about today, over in Industria, but me and Kaine don’t see eye-to-eye. He acts all tough, but he’s got a serious soft spot,” Seth added snidely.
“Then why didn’t the Trinity use their Sanctium to stop them all?” Genevieve pressed.
“That’s the million Credit question,” Seth smirked. “Some reckon that their Santium’s running low, and some say they just lost too many good fighters, the ones like Kaine who regained their taste of life on the surface regardless of the consequences. That definitely lost the Trinity a lot of decent manpower. You see, others left the Catacombs and made their own gangs – like the Clockwork Angels, Desem Patriots and Tropican Furies – to fight against the Dogs of War and Imperia for their respective Nations. So even after the war, there was a lot of Supernaturals who didn’t want to go back down, but not enough Trinity Supernaturals to force them to comply, and if they went after one, like Kaine, then the others could take it personally-”
“And band together against the Trinity,” Genevieve assumed.
“Correct,” Seth answered, impressed. “Although, they did take out the Autocrat’s wife and threatened to do the same to his son if he didn’t keep a lid on everything, and to ensure that Kaine didn’t get too powerful to threaten their rule.”
“So that’s why he’s been so quiet,” Genevieve said with wide eyes. The fiery warmonger Edgar Aurelius had conquered the world, but it had cost him his heart.
“Dick move, huh? Very clever, though,” Seth said flatly, “and it gave us gangs just the right opportunity to start milking the world for everything it’s got.”
Dane scurried over with their meals, and carefully put the large plates, cutlery, and napkins down with his shaky hands.
Seth drained his glass and held it out in Dane’s direction. “Refill, hers too.”
Genie took the hint and drank the remainder of her bloody champagne, and she gave Dane her glass with another apologetic look. The alcohol was helping with her Supernatural education.
Although she wasn’t hungry (for food, at least), Genevieve dug into her meal gratefully. Even though her steak was bloody, it didn’t satisfy her craving for blood like anywhere near that of the regular kind, and she guessed that animal blood didn’t quite cut it, but that didn’t stop her meal from being delicious.
Dane delivered their new drinks and Genevieve was ready to cull more questions, especially as she was saving some important ones for last.
“Where do you fit into all this Trinity and gang stuff?” Genevieve asked. She already had a pretty good idea, but wanted to hear it from Seth’s mouth.
“We’re the Golden Fangs gang,” Seth said proudly. “Cos’ I’m Seth Goldfang.”
“Your last name is Goldfang?” Genie asked disbelievingly.
“Well… no, but it was something similar… that’s not important.” Seth said, slightly embarrassed. “We’re based in Fort Dominia, and we have footholds in Taynulia and now Woodsholme, along with a bunch of the smaller villages.”
“And you do…?” Genevieve pressed.
“Same thing the humans used to do,” Seth replied. “We trade drugs, but not that boring shit. We trade the top-quality magic stuff.”
Genie gave him a confused look. “Magical drugs?” Then she remembered the conversation she’d overheard in the backroom; none of the human gang leaders knew where Dreamleaf or the other powerful drugs came from.
“Made from Alchemy,” Seth confirmed. “You like your Dreamleaf, right? Well, that stuff has a little bit of regular old cannabis in it as a mixer, maybe a few minor base ingredients, and the rest is magical. Why do you think the hallucinations are so good? It comes from the Gloom plant, Nightmare Nettle.”
“Sorry, what’s the Gloom?”
“Now that’s a whole other kettle of fish.” Seth took a deep breath. “There’s th
ese guys called Book Wielders. They’re humans who find these magical books, or the books find them or something, and they can cross into a shadowy dimension filled with useful Alchemy stuff. That’s how us Supernaturals get the ingredients for our potions… and drugs. With Mages needing Vitality Potions and Werewolves needing Tranquillity Potions to keep their humanity, the Book Wielders are in high demand to all us lot.”
It was a lot to take in, but Genie tried her best to understand. “So, we need blood to stop going Feral, and the others need potions, made from stuff that comes from another dimensional plain?”
“Yeah, they’re called Corrective potions,” Seth explained. “They say Vampires are double cursed because we need blood to stay normal and Sunshield potion to go out in the day, but I say we’ve got it twice as easy. For the Mages to look alive, the Werewolves to look less hairy, and for both of ‘em to keep their humanity, they need to resort to pricey potions. For us Vamps we just need human blood, which is like, everywhere, and we can live without the sun.”
“I can picture a Feral Werewolf,” Genevieve began, “but I can’t imagine a Feral Mage.” She had the image of an angry librarian in her head.
Seth’s demeanour darkened, and he noticeably stiffened his posture. “You like fantasy books, yeah?” he asked seriously
“Sometimes,” Genie replied moodily. She was still pissed off that they’d combed through her belongings.
“Well, think along the lines of a necromancer, and you won’t be far off,” Seth replied with a curled lip. “Mages are immortal like Werewolves and us Vamps, but they’re physically closest to a normal human, and their bodies age at the same rate…”
“So, if they don’t get Vitality Potions they’re like walking corpses?” she said grimly.
Seth nodded solemnly. “Walking corpses that can blow shit up and suck the life out of people easier than we suck on blood…”
It was disarming for Genevieve to see the bad-mannered tough guy having genuine human emotions. “It sounds like you’ve had experiences with them?”