by Sean Davies
“Making it look like a robbery.” Seth twitched as a puff of red dust fell from his nose.
He dragged his old friend to the large safe, punched it until the thick metal gave way enough for him to pry it open, and loaded fists full of cash into his jacket.
“You want some?!” he asked excitedly and clearly high as a kite.
“No, thank you,” Genevieve replied in a terrified tone.
“Suit yourself, suit yourself. Roof. Now. Let’s go!” he stammered, clattering his teeth together madly.
Genie ran out of the room and looked behind her. Even though he was off his head on Rushdust and convulsing from head to toe, Seth was still standing mournfully at the office door saying farewell to his childhood friend.
“Seth, come on, quick!” Genevieve called.
“I’m coming, Elissa,” Seth rambled, “I’m coming!”
Genie grimaced as they ran through the busted roof-access door and up the stairs to join the others.
A light drizzle had begun to fall from the cloudy night’s sky, and the red flashing lights from the MPK vans below illuminated the water droplets intermittently. They could all hear the shouts from below, and everyone looked at Seth and Genevieve for guidance.
“We can’t go down the back, they’ll be round there too,” Genevieve said, thinking out loud. “Which means we’ll have to go off the sides.”
Genevieve got as far to the edges as she could without giving away their position. At the front, it appeared as though the human attention below was being directed at the building’s interior. The side of the office that pointed towards the docks offered a sheer drop towards the road and was far above the ‘minimum safe distance’, as Gaius would put it. The side that pointed inland had some nearby buildings, one of which had a flat roof and was just about reachable from their location. She approached one of the Werewolves and pointed it out.
“If you transform, can you jump that?” Genie asked quietly.
The Werewolf tiled his head side as he assessed the height and distance. “Maybe…” he replied dubiously.
Another Werewolf came forward. “I can fuck with the air, make it lift us a bit, like,” he grunted. “I know a few Shaman tricks, ya see. I’ll need carryin’ though, can’t do it when I’m a wolf.”
“Awesome, do it,” Genevieve nodded gratefully. “We’re heading for that building there,” she announced in a loud whisper while pointing out their target. “From there we’ll scatter and get back to Fort Dominia. Is that cool, Seth?”
Seth nodded rigorously. “Very cool. You’re always so smart,” he added while poking her in her head repeatedly. “Smart, smart, smart!”
Genevieve flinched away from his finger and helped him closer to the side of the office roof.
Werewolf Brutebeasts stripped off and transformed into their hulking feral forms. They scooped their clothes up in one claw, and helped those who were unable to jump or glide onto their backs with the other. A Werewolf Swiftpaw also shed its clothing, got on all fours, and transformed into a huge black wolf. It grabbed its clothes in its savage maw and allowed the Werewolf who had dabbled in Shaman spells to clamber onto its furry back.
Vampire Ironfangs swelled in stature and turned grey and muscular, their nails becoming blades and all their teeth growing into vicious arrays of fangs as they summoned all their great strength. The other Nightclaws joined Genie and Seth, and prepped themselves to spring into the night.
The winds picked up and swirled around their feet, and everyone felt lighter as they adjusted themselves to the uplifting elemental magic. The Werewolf atop the Swiftpaw gave a thumbs-up, and they all leapt off the trashed Ironfang office block.
Genevieve glided towards the flat roof ahead of her, fighting the urge to check on those around her, or look down at the swirling air magic around her feet and the crowd of humans beside the MPK and media vans. She focused on her goal and nothing else as she slid through the cold evening drizzle. She landed solidly on her feet without needing to roll, and triumphantly wished that Gaius was there to see and congratulate her perfect performance.
The other members of the Golden Fangs floated, crashed, smashed, or thudded onto the rooftop. They all dusted themselves off, and those that had transformed reverted to their human forms and got dressed quickly. The atmosphere on the rooftop was electric, and everyone was laughing, cheering, and slapping each other on the back in joyous celebration.
Falling through the dark night had sobered Seth slightly, and he put his finger to his lips. “Shut the fuck up, knuckleheads – now get the fuck out of here before we get caught!”
The gang members did as they were told, although most took the time to thank Genie for her quick tactical thinking before they went. Seth stood motionless until everyone else had gone, and then gestured for Genevieve to follow.
After leaping off the top of a five-storey office block, hopping off a two-storey one seemed like child’s play, and Seth and Genevieve made it back to the jeep in no time at all. They drove back to the fort in stony silence, leaving Genevieve to process every crazy event that had transpired during their botched attack against the Morriganigh.
They pulled up beside the gate and Seth finally broke his silence. “Chaz was right, about one thing at least.”
“What do you mean?” Genevieve asked nervously.
“I’ve been listening to you and Gaius too much,” Seth replied in a miserable tone. “Pussyfooting about didn’t get this gang where it is now, and tonight is proof of that. Let the Morriganigh have their schemes; I’ll smash their big brainy heads to pieces under my motherfucking boot. From now on we go back to doing things my way, the warrior’s way. You and Gaius are on the bench, got it?” he growled brutishly.
Genevieve scrunched up her face. “But-”
“Just take a few nights off,” Seth said, exiting his jeep. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
Genevieve got out of Seth’s sporty white jeep and watched him walk away, gobsmacked that he could blame her for what had happened. He didn’t even bother to lock his prized vehicle as he disappeared into the fort.
She gave it ten minutes before quickly rushing into Chloe’s old room to clear it of her personal effects and precious artwork. Genie loaded it all into her blue jeep and sped back home in a foul mood, while wondering furiously where the hell the Morriganigh were hiding.
Chapter 12
Genevieve’s Night Off
Genevieve had crashed into bed as soon as she’d stored Chloe’s belongings away in Annabelle’s old room, something which had seemed like a feat of great bravery and had drained what little remained of her psychological reserves. She had shed her weapons, thrown herself into the soft sheets, and buried her head into her pillow. Everything smelt of home, and Genevieve had missed the place more than she’d realised.
In her dreams, she wandered through a fog-stricken graveyard where every tombstone was marked with Annabelle’s name. The repeated resting place of the fallen friend didn’t bother Genevieve, for she was looking for something, and she was obsessed with finding it more than anything else in the whole wide world. Her bare feet crunched painfully against the gravel path she trod, but she didn’t care; all that mattered was finding her shadowy foes.
She heard a slithering sound from behind and quickly turned, but there was nothing behind her except for an empty graveyard. Genie exhaled and continued on her strange quest for answers. She heard the sound once more and turned, but again saw nothing.
A large statue of a proud-looking boy came into view through the fog. It was marked only with the engraving: ‘One of my oldest and dearest friends, killed by a bitch’. Genie studied it intently and saw that it was Chaz, only a lot younger.
Three large crows landed on the boy and cawed at the dreaming Vampire.
“There you are!” Genie yelled, ignoring the hissing behind her.
The crows flew into Genevieve’s face and she quickly reached for her Katana, but found only a pillow. She tried batting t
he crows away, but they had passed by her and were savagely pecking and clawing at something behind her.
She saw the outline of something huge out the corner of her eye, and turned nervously to see a giant red and black snake with huge golden fangs towering above her. It hissed and convulsed as the three crows relentlessly assaulted its blood red eyes.
Genevieve woke up feeling confused and brandishing a pillow in her hands like a weapon. She checked the time, saw that it was late afternoon, and lumbered out of bed.
She felt good after the massive rest, despite the weird graveyard dream, but her mood soon turned sour when the events of the previous day began repeating in her mind. The Morriganigh had eluded her and set the gang up to take a massive fall, Seth had shot his long-time friend in a fit of rage, and she apparently shared a striking resemblance to Seth’s little sister Elissa. The revelation explained a lot, like why Seth usually let her get away with more than the other gang members and the reason he had bothered turning her in the first place, but Genevieve was still mortified that Seth would sleep with someone who looked like an older version of his long-dead little sister.
Genie stripped out of her tactical clothing and had a standing brunch of snack food and blood in her underwear, and then took a nice relaxing bath afterwards. She wondered how long Seth would stay mad at her, even though he was the one who pulled the trigger, and how Archie had taken the news. She also couldn’t stop wondering about where the Morriganigh were based, and was disappointed with herself for not realising they were being goaded to the office block. Genie kept thinking about the surrounding area, about Gaelliard and Taynulia, and any distinct landmarks the illusive gang could be using as a base. She finished washing her pale body and lay there until the water began to turn tepid. Genie got out and dried herself off slowly as she planned the day ahead. She felt like having a sulky day in, but every time she caught her reflection all she could think about was her likeness to Elissa, so decided that when night fell she would finally change her style. Genevieve studied her bland brown hair and began gathering ideas about what look she wanted, which kept her mind off everything else that was bothering her.
From her wardrobe she selected simple white underwear, a short-sleeved t-shirt, and a denim miniskirt. Genie also chose a black and blue chequered shirt and wore it over the top, unbuttoned and open like a jacket.
She powered up her computer, planning on adding to her digital journal and investigation notes, but quickly fell prey to procrastination and began installing and trialling her PC games one by one. As Genevieve settled digital cities and moved her troops across the gridded maps turn by turn, she couldn’t help but superimpose her own real-life situation onto the screen. In every move and countermove she saw the Golden Fangs prodding, the Morriganigh reacting, and the Trinity of Old watching.
Genie switched between games but couldn’t shake the question from her mind. “Where are you sneaky shits hiding…?” she cursed at her monitor.
She gave up on recreation and began typing up her latest experiences frantically, and her keyboard clicked and clacked in a satisfying melody under the barrage of her rapid keypresses. As the sun started to set, Genevieve began writing down her thoughts and theories on the Morriganigh’s location, whilst listening to Marissa Aluniana’s LP several times over. She knew her foes needed somewhere to congregate, and to stash their goods, weapons, and money, with a good access to the eastern side of the continent, and she wondered if they’d sink so low as to hide in the sewers with the rats. Without a landmark location and any hint of where they operated from, she was effectively searching for a needle in a haystack, and Genevieve knew it.
“Where would a crow live?” Genevieve asked herself as she put on her boots, grabbing her handbag and a long black coat.
Genie left the apartment, surprised that the Golden Fangs hadn’t been in touch, and she imagined that Seth was still trying to process his extreme actions and the fact that the gang had been royally screwed over. Genevieve also assumed there had been a heated debate between Seth and Gaius regarding the future of their expansion efforts, and hoped that it hadn’t gone completely out of control. She also thought about how Archie had taken the news about his good friend Chaz, and about how many secrets he would have to spill to the Trinity to keep them from drowning the entirety of Fort Dominia in their Supernatural-killing Sanctium.
She got into her jeep and drove southeast to Taynulia, keeping to the main roads and the speed limit as she wasn’t in an urgent rush for a change. Genevieve knew it was futile, but she still eyed the dark fields and forests just in case the Morriganigh’s headquarters happened to leap out of the shadows for her benefit.
Genie parked up on the new side of Taynulia in an empty carpark behind a closed supermarket. As she walked beneath the flickering yellow street lights and round onto the main street, Genevieve could make out the tired nightshift workers of the supermarket drearily stacking the shelves for the morning shoppers. To her surprise, she found herself pitying them somewhat, and was grateful that she didn’t need to slave away in a regular job to make ends meet anymore. Genevieve realised that Veronica of the Shadow Circle had been right about her; she did enjoy being a Vampire, and relished the thrill of gang life, regardless of the dangers.
The streets of Taynulia were almost bare, except for a few groups of youths drinking cheap cider and the odd Vampire taking advantage of the shops that were still open. The small roads were also quiet, but when a vehicle did charge down the road, nine times out of ten it was a mud encrusted off-road jeep. Genevieve strolled casually along the pavement until she came to a building with a glass front and a neon purple sign above the entrance indicating it was ‘Sasha’s Salon’. Genevieve entered the brightly lit salon, and was immediately set upon by a perky Mage in a smart lilac dress with curly purple and pink hair, wearing sparkling make-up and glittering nails to match.
“Hi, and welcome to Sasha’s!” the Mage beamed, taking Genie’s coat and hanging it up in a flash. “I’m Sasha, obvs, and I’m here to make your beauty wishes come true!”
“Oh, okay,” Genevieve stammered as she was pushed into a salon chair and spun to face a star shaped mirror, “great.”
“So, you’re a Vamp,” Sasha said, analysing Genie with her wide purple eyes. “I’m guessing you want black, black, and blacker?”
Genevieve frowned. “Sorry, what?”
“You’ll be wanting raven black, silky smooth hair that reflects your inner darkness and deep relationship with the shadows of the night,” the Mage reeled off in a theatrically posh accent. “Right?” she added, questioning her own self doubtfully.
“Well…” Genie hesitated.
“O.M.T.Gs…” Sasha gasped as she spun Genevieve back around and grabbed her shoulders. “Oh-my-Twin-Goddesses! Have I actually found a Vampire who’s ready to cross the frontier out of the monochromatic and into the endless possibilities of my colour palette?!”
Genie said nothing for a moment, until she realised that the intense mage was awaiting an answer. “Yes?” she replied meekly.
Sasha danced on the spot in excitement. “Yay!” she said, punching the air. “You get your hair in the style you want, and I’ll start visualising the best colours to match!”
“Me?” Genevieve asked in astonishment. “Why would I do my own hair in a salon?”
Sasha looked completely baffled. “Cos you’re a Vampire… you control your hair growth at will… oh my! You’re new to the Supernatural side of things, aren’t you?!” she asked excitedly.
“Yeah,” Genie answered. “So I can make it change myself?”
She thought back to one of her first nights as a Vampire, when Seth had left her to starve until she was almost a Feral. Genevieve remembered how her hair had taken on a life of its own, growing and moving as though it was an extension of her pre-existing appendages.
“Yup, yup!” Sasha cheered. “And it’s just that easy.” She spun Genie around to face the mirror again.
To Genevieve’s
great surprise, her hair had grown much longer and wavier during her daydream and resembled that of her Feral-self’s banshee style, except without the tendril-like movement.
“I’m surprised you didn’t notice the lack of body hair maintenance,” Sasha smirked. “You Vamps get it so easy in that respect. I’m lucky that my hubby prefers the natural look downstairs – saves a bit of time – but I’d kill to not worry about my pits and legs! Oh, but you should see how much waxing gear I get through for the Werewolf guys and gals!”
“I’ve been a bit preoccupied,” Genie explained half-heartedly, distracted by the gratifying fact that her body hair was now controlled at will. “Don’t Tranquillity potions stop the super hair growth for the Werewolves?” Genevieve asked out of curiosity, as she studied her brown hair and imagined what style she wanted.
“Waxing strips are cheaper than Corrective potions,” Sasha smiled. “I make sure it’s more beneficial for my clientele to come here than go down the Alchemy route, but the older, stronger ones don’t really have a choice. We’re talking about some serious bush!”
Genevieve chuckled, but her face dropped when her hair became a big bushy afro. In a panic she willed it gone, drawing from her Shadow-shroud training and commanding the frizzy locks to go away, and to her horror she got what she wanted. All of her hair fell out, leaving her completely bald, and the salon’s bright lights even reflected off her pale scalp. In an even greater panic, Genevieve begged her hair to return, and received a torrent of wild brown hair that stopped just shy of the floor.
“Shit,” she sighed angrily. “Can we do this the old-fashioned way, please?”
Sasha nodded eagerly. “Of course, cutie. Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it in no time… but I wouldn’t go changing the style on your privates ‘til you’ve mastered it!” she laughed playfully.