Dreamleaf Blues (The Book Wielder Saga)

by Sean Davies

  She put on some music and grabbed a notepad. The biggest problem she faced was the parent situation, and Genie began writing down several possible lies she could use to explain the situation, the likely responses she would receive from Annabelle’s and her own parents, and how she would then counter them. Genevieve looked down at the mass of scribbles and criss-crossed lines, and didn’t even know where to begin.

  There was a polite knocking at her front door and Genevieve was more than happy to abandon her messy notepad to answer it. She wondered hopefully if it was Jonathan Knight, for then she could cross one thing off her to-do list.

  Genevieve opened the door and was immediately set upon by a scantily dressed Veronica. The busty Vampire threw her arms around Genie, hugged her tightly, and kissed her on both cheeks.

  “It’s good to see you again, Genie-girl!” Veronica said kindly. “I love your hair, it’s so out-there and sexy!”

  “Hi… Veronica… and thanks,” Genevieve panted, catching her breath. For a moment, she thought she’d been under attack. “What brings you here?”

  Veronica looked surprised. “Didn’t you get my message?”

  She was looking as beautiful as ever in a tight low-cut red t-shirt, a very short black miniskirt, and a pair of black high heels. Her long shimmering black hair was kept back neatly with a silver hairband encrusted with small rubies, and her designer handbag was worth more than everything in Genevieve’s apartment, barring the computer. Genie felt incredibly underdressed in comparison to the stunning woman.

  “I thought you were a mind reader?” Genie grinned.

  “You don’t know whether you like my outfit or the hot body underneath it…” Veronica said slyly as she skimmed Genevieve’s innermost thoughts. “I’d say you like both, but I don’t want to sound big-headed,” she added confidently.

  Genevieve blushed. “Point taken.”

  “The reason I’m here is that I discovered who your friend Annabelle worked for. He’s a long-time friend and colleague of mine, so I thought we’d drop in and say hi,” Veronica explained.

  Genie glanced at the door to Anna’s room and grimaced. “I’ve kind of resolved that stuff.”

  Veronica chuckled. “Yes, we all heard what happened in those woods,” she said, emphasising the mission’s low level of discretion, “but now it’s tonight’s ‘party of the century’ that’s got everyone talking.”

  “Yeah, apparently it’s going to be fucking epic,” Genie replied, quoting Seth. She wasn’t sure what to say, or if she should mention her plans to move to Tropica.

  Veronica frowned. “You know, you can’t run away from the problems in your head.”

  “I keep forgetting you can do that,” Genevieve sighed.

  “Sorry, force of habit,” Veronica winked cheekily. “I still think you should come with me to the Open Vein nightclub. I did drive through the night to get here, and I’m heading over anyway. You can keep me company!” she beamed excitedly, and threw Genie a vial of Sunshield potion from her handbag.

  Genie caught the vial but went to hand it back. “Thanks, but I can’t accept this, I know they’re expensive.”

  “Meh, it’s no trouble,” Veronica shrugged. “Dean Savies may be a self-serving asshole most of the time but he’s a damn fine Book Wielder. He got the ingredients and I made the potions myself. One will do you for the whole day – I go for quality over quantity, and I’m an excellent Alchemist. Not as good as Gregory at the Open Vein, though. You’ll get to meet him soon… when you come with me…?” Veronica asked slowly and with adorable puppy-dog eyes.

  “Gregory?” Genie asked curiously. The name rang a bell. “’G’ at ‘OV’!” she gasped.

  “I hope that’s your really unique way of saying yes?” Veronica’s eyebrow rose as even she couldn’t discern what lightbulb had lit up in Genie’s mind.

  “I saw it on a MPK computer; ‘G@OV’, meaning Greg at the Open Vein!” Genevieve said, astonished. “It was who was paying, and then later cancelled payments to your gang to keep the authorities from ever interfering with Annabelle’s work”

  “Yes, I know,” Veronica said plainly. “I told you I’d found out who Annabelle worked for and you said you’d put it all behind you, remember?”

  Suddenly Genevieve felt as though she was being questioned by a psychiatrist, or a ball of yarn being toyed with by an especially sly cat. “Well, yeah, I have,” she said defensively. “It’s done now.”

  “It doesn’t sound like it,” Veronica said in a concerned tone. “Look, just stick some shoes on, I’ll put track five of my fav album on, and we’ll just go see what Gregory has to say.”

  “Why are you so insistent?” Genie asked guardedly.

  Veronica strolled over to the record player and put Marissa Aluniana’s LP on the turntable, delicately moving the tone-arm so that track five, Stolen Faces, played as soon as the stylus dropped.

  “Part Bloodmage psychic powers, part Fate-driven intuition, and partly because I just want you in our gang.” Veronica explained chirpily and with a coy smile.

  Genie sighed in defeat. “Fine, I’ll go, but I’m not joining the Circle.”

  “That’s fine,” Veronica said warmly, “there’s no reason we can’t still be friends.”

  Genevieve picked a pair of well-worn trainers from beside the door and took a seat on the sofa as she pulled them on. “Is Stolen Faces really your favourite track, or did you just say that because you know it’s mine?” Genie asked suspiciously.

  Veronica wagged her finger. “Track nine, Reality Falling, is your real favourite. You just don’t like to admit it because the song is all about world-ending heartbreak. Stolen Faces is your number two choice, but it’s my favourite.”

  Genie grumbled moodily and wished that she had a magical thought-blocking helmet. She drank the potion that Veronica had given her and left the apartment.

  “I’ll drive!” Veronica said happily as they left the building.

  Genevieve’s jaw dropped for two reasons. The first was that her flashy blue jeep was covered in mud, bits of foliage, cosmetically dented and scratched, and parked at an awkward angle just millimetres away from the quaint car Annabelle had brought her. She felt genuinely grateful that she’d managed to arrive home in one piece. The second reason was Veronica’s metallic crimson sports car.

  “She’s a beaut’, isn’t she?” Veronica sighed as she ran her fingers softly across the hood. “And they say crime doesn’t pay…”

  “I haven’t heard anyone say that in a very long time,” Genie replied, still awestruck by the gorgeous car.

  “Yes, the world’s gone to pot.” Veronica leant over the hood, sticking her ass out shamelessly as she wiped away a small smudge from the windscreen. “It’s a tragedy, where has all the decency and virtue gone?” she asked, putting on a sweet maiden’s voice and looking over her shoulder at the captivated Genevieve.

  Seeing the busty Vampire next to her car reminded Genie of an over-the-top car commercial, but Genevieve could barely take her eyes off either of them. “Thank the Goddesses I wasn’t born a dude…” She shook her head to clear her mind and lowered herself into the passenger’s seat.

  “Oh, girls get just as excited as boys,” Veronica said seductively as she got in the car and turned the ignition. “Like this engine, I’m just warming up.” She leant over and adjusted Genevieve’s hair, and smirked as she held her breath in flustered anticipation.

  Genevieve chuckled as her heart slowed down. “You know, I’ve got some friends at the fort that would absolutely love you.”

  Veronica laughed as she began the short drive to the nightclub. “Oh, I wish. I’ve heard those ladies of the night are very, very talented.”

  “They are,” Genie admitted cheekily. She knew there was no point trying to cover up the filthy memories that blossomed in her mind.

  “Now you’re getting it,” Veronica smirked. “But they should really let guys work there too, you know, to cater to all needs.”

  “
You like both?” Genie asked out of curiosity.

  Veronica nodded. “Pleasure’s pleasure in my book. Guess I’m just greedy,” she chuckled. “Think about it, though. All the women who want male action, and there’s plenty of guys who like guys out there too; it would double Fort Dominia’s business easy. Have you ever watched two guys going at it? I love it, turns me on so much… oh wait, of course you wouldn’t have!” Veronica babbled, getting carried away in her fantasies.

  Genevieve chuckled before answering Veronica’s point. “I agree, but Seth, Gaius, and the rest of them are funny about it apparently.”

  “Pfft, Seth and his boys shouldn’t have a problem with dicks… because they are dicks,” Veronica joked in a funny voice. “And ol’ mad-dog Gaius is still stuck in, like, the hundreds or whatever.”

  Genie’s eyebrow rose. “Mad-dog?”

  “It’s what the oldies call him,” Veronica elaborated. “He had some very effective and efficient ways of fighting, extracting information, and demoralising the enemy during the Shadow War, and apparently he carried that enthusiasm with him to the Trinity where they had him doing Goddess-knows-what to Goddess-knows-who.”

  Genevieve frowned, wondering as she often did who Gaius really was. She still had a hard time thinking of him as anything other than a cunning, mildly patronising, slightly scary but ultimately rewarding mentor. However, no one else seemed to share Genie’s fondness or respect for the sly Werewolf.

  “So, what’s this Gregory like?” Genie asked to change the subject.

  “Oh, he’s a great guy,” Veronica replied fondly. “He’s one of the Shadow Circle Captain’s, and an adept Mage, but you wouldn’t think it at first glance. His Alchemy knowledge is fantastic, too. He’s got a real hands-on approach to experimentation.”

  As Veronica finished singing Gregory’s praises, she parked up in the Open Vein’s carpark and headed inside.

  The establishment hadn’t changed much since Genie’s last visit when she was still searching for Annabelle as a human, or even from the times when the two girls had gone there clubbing together. The club wasn’t exactly rundown, but it was far from polished and as such it always had a strange quaint charm that Genie found welcoming. It also made a point of playing alternative music, which Genevieve found a refreshing change from the regular clubs that always seemed to repeat the same songs over and over. A long bar occupied most of one wall, and even though it was late morning a few Supernaturals and toughened old regulars were sitting on rickety wooden stools, knocking back their drinks and listening to the radio. There was a dancefloor that bore many scratches, scuffs, and stains, and a few tables and seating booths to the sides of the room along with a DJ’s stand, but they were all currently empty.

  Veronica gave the Circle gang members slight nods in a silent greeting and blew kisses at the old humans who were ogling her with hungry eyes. The Bloodmage took Genevieve past the bar and up a flight of steps that led to the VIP section.

  The first floor was only marginally flashier than the ground floor, but it came equipped with several pole-dancing platforms surrounded by well-kept tables and chairs, leather seating booths, and a smaller yet better stocked bar.

  As no one was there, Veronica casually waltzed behind the bar and fixed Genie and herself a glass of rum and blood.

  “Best cure for a hangover,” Veronica said, clanking the glasses in a fake toast. “Blood to heal the body, and more booze to stay pissed.”

  “Cheers,” Genevieve replied gratefully, and she took a big gulp as they moved into the private back area.

  Veronica knocked a few times and then let herself in.

  When they got to the Mage’s small office, they found Gregory sitting behind his cheap desk that was littered with paperwork and large opened tomes, and was playing host to a variety of Alchemy and chemistry equipment. Behind the desk was a large map of the surrounding area, a naughty calendar and several explicit posters, and a very messy excuse for a staff rota.

  Gregory himself was indeed far from what Genevieve would’ve expected from a Shadow Circle Captain. He had a scruffy mop of brown dyed hair, rough unshaven stubble on his round face, and was dressed in a grubby brown pin-striped suit with no tie and an open top button.

  “Veronica, you made it!” he cheered, staying put by his experiment. “This must be your friend – Genevieve, was it?”

  “It certainly is,” Veronica chimed. “Genevieve, this is Gregory. Gregory, this is the femme fatale, Genevieve Jameson.”

  “You can call me Genie for short,” said Genevieve. “It’s nice to meet you, Gregory. Wait… are you boiling wood?”

  “In that case, you can call me Greg,” he replied with a warm smile. “And technically no… I’m boiling bark. Stonebark, to be precise.”

  “Prepping a fresh batch of Stoneskin potions?” Veronica asked, eying the equipment on the desk.

  “Not quite, not quite,” Greg said as he pulled the grey, partially crumbling bark out of the boiling water with a pair of tongs. “You may be about to witness Alchemy history in the making!”

  Genevieve wondered from his excited tone and the sweet smell in the small office if Gregory was tripping hard.

  He tapped a small conical stone underneath his boiling beaker, and the powerful magefire bursting from it instantly vanished. Gregory held the soggy bark between the palms of his hands and psychedelic swirls of magic rippled around them, causing a puff of rotten-smelling steam to rise between his fingers. He broke the now dry Stonebark into pieces and placed them in a small marble mortar.

  “Clue us in here, Greg,” Veronica said, watching him work with great interest.

  “I had a thought,” Gregory began as he ground the bark with his matching pestle. “What if we could make smaller, easier to use Stoneskin potions? Ones that pack even more defensive goodness than the original?”

  “Sounds good so far,” Veronica answered, appraising the make-shift workstation. “So, you’ve done away with the base reagents to get a stronger solution, but how are you going to get it to dissolve without them?”

  Genevieve listened on eagerly, realising that Veronica wasn’t nearly as ditzy as she made out, although Genie was still sure that the voluptuous Vampire was a total sex addict.

  “I’m not going to dissolve it, V,” Greg answered with wide purple eyes. “I boiled it to kill of any hidden Gloom crud, and now I’m going to grind it into a powder and get it straight in the bloodstream. A pure hit of the defensive good times.”

  Veronica hummed an intrigued note and prepared to watch the results unfold.

  “By hands-on approach, you meant he uses himself as a test subject?!” Genevieve asked Veronica in shock.

  “Best way to learn is by doing, fire-head,” Gregory said as he took a pinch of grey powder and snorted it quickly. He hacked and coughed violently. “Anything?!” he asked excitedly as his red puffy eyes watered.

  Genevieve shook her head. “A bit phlegmy… oh, shit!” she gasped.

  “What? What is it?!” Greg panicked.

  Veronica peered at his face and saw what had alarmed Genevieve. “Cleanse, Greg, now!”

  Thin grey roots had begun creeping out of the Mage’s eyelids, nostrils, and the sides of his mouth. They pulsed like veins, and grew thicker and longer with every passing second.

  Gregory reached for a nearby Cleansing potion as he coughed, spluttered, and made disgusting retching noises. He quickly swigged the potion and sprinkled the remnants of the bottle over his face for good measure. The roots receded, and the experimenting Circle Captain blew his nose on a hanky from his suit jacket. He grabbed a pen and put a big red cross through one of his notebook pages.

  “Well, that was a disappointingly sobering experience,” Gregory sighed unhappily. “Back to the drawing board.”

  “Maybe you should stick to Rushdust,” Veronica joked.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Gregory smirked, as though his face had never been home to a horde of Gloom roots. “I’m all about the new, n
ew, new! So, can I get you lovely ladies anything?”

  Veronica turned to Genie, but she smiled and raised her glass indicating that she was fine.

  “We’re good, thanks,” Veronica answered. “We were hoping you could tell us about Annabelle Jones, the dealer I called you about.”

  “I did come in here asking about her before...” Genie began with a hint of annoyance in her tone.

  “I don’t reveal the IDs of my dealers, human or otherwise, not unless a member of the Shadow Circle is asking,” Gregory said in a surprisingly formal voice.

  “You said Annabelle worked under you,” Veronica cut in, “but we couldn’t go over details on the phone. Genie’s a good friend of hers, back from her days as a human.”

  Gregory lit up a suspicious looking cigarette and sighed reminiscently. “Ann-a-belle…” He emphasised each syllable, letting the words escape his mouth slowly along with a puff of yellow, green, and white smoke. “One of the best dealers I’ve ever known, and bonus points considering she was a human. You should have seen how much Dreamleaf she could push! She was a stone-cold stunner too, wish I’d brought her in on the Supernatural side of things sooner. They fucking snatched her though, didn’t they?”

  “The Morriganigh,” Genevieve said bitterly, glad they were no more.

  “No, the Morriganigh don’t venture this far,” Gregory replied as though Genie’s comment was offensively stupid, “and if they do then you don’t hear about it. They made stealth and subterfuge into an art form, and built their gang upon it – or at least, they did until they went boom last night. I was talking about those mindless thugs in the Golden Fangs…”

  “What did you just say?” Genie demanded after a long, tense pause.

  “Gregory, is that true?!” Veronica asked, fearfully astonished.

  “It’s not something I’d joke about,” Greg began in a stern tone. “That blue and purple haired bitch who took over the Grill snatched Anna, stuffed her in that violet sports car of hers, and impaled one of my Vamps with an icicle out in fucking public. Luckily he was okay, and no humans saw, but we lost twelve dealers that night, Annabelle included. No one’s seen her or the others since. I’m telling you, those Golden Fangs are fucking nutters. I’m surprised the miserable old gits at the Trinity haven’t acted yet.”