Dreamleaf Blues (The Book Wielder Saga)

by Sean Davies

  Neither one of the fighting Vampire Nightclaws noticed when Xavier caught the spinning Katana by its hilt, and he studied the expert craftsmanship as Veronica rushed forward to aid Genevieve.

  “Don’t,” Xavier said quietly, holding out a hand to block Veronica’s intervention. “I was wrong before; this is something she needs to do for herself.”

  Veronica reluctantly stopped and nodded, knowing that Xavier was right, as he usually was. “Fine, but if she’s in trouble…”

  “One way or the other, he won’t be leaving this grisly room alive,” Xavier assured her. “Although, I doubt we’ll need to intervene.”

  Veronica struggled to track the insanely fast melee playing out before her eyes. “You don’t reckon?” she asked, not knowing who had the upper hand.

  “He’s fast and skilled, but he’s getting angrier and sloppier as the fight goes on. I imagine he’s not used to prolonged fights against an evenly matched foe,” Xavier commentated for Veronica’s sake. “Genevieve isn’t as skilled or experienced, but she’s marginally faster, and most importantly, she’s not allowing her rage to overcome her reason. Instead she’s rising above it, and her attacks seem well-calculated and focused, considering how much emotional trauma she’s dealing with.”

  Veronica nodded and strained her eyes as she tried to watch Seth and Genie’s blurred, supercharged movements. “Mess him up, Genevieve, mess him up!”

  Seth stabbed rapidly with his knife and Genevieve somersaulted into the air, twisting like a tornado as she hurled a flurry of throwing knives at her enemy, which Seth batted away quickly with his combat knife before slinging it angrily at Genevieve. The blade clipped her arm, only slicing through the leather material and a few layers of her skin, but she smiled knowing that Seth was no longer armed.

  Genie landed on her feet and drew her pistol. Her aim was still far from adept, but she didn’t need her shots to be perfect, and she emptied the entire clip at the raging Golden Fangs leader. Seth dodged the bullets flawlessly, his body remaining on the spot as he moved his limbs, torso, and head out of their path. However, in that short blip of time Genevieve had closed the gap between them, and Seth raised his fists like a professional boxer. Genevieve unexpectedly threw her spent pistol at Seth’s head and the metal weapon struck him in the forehead, causing superficial damage but allowing Genie to get a good punch on his shocked face.

  Seth recovered quickly as the superfast showdown became a deadly dance of hand-to-hand combat. He kicked, punched, and parried Genevieve’s lightning-fast movements, just as she did to his own. Although Seth was red-faced with violent enragement and his agility was suffering slightly due to his lack of discipline, Genevieve couldn’t outmatch the brute’s strength and resilience.

  Genie changed her tactics and elongated her nails into brilliantly sharp points. She slashed and swiped, spinning on the spot like she was a circular saw, and managed to graze her maker a few times, leaving bloody claw marks on his tight white vest top.

  Seth grabbed Genevieve’s wrists as her claws went for his heart, and he smiled sadistically. The veins on his face popped out as he struggled to keep her talons away from his chest, but he carried on smirking throughout.

  “All the fucked-up shit we put your friend through…” Seth grunted as he kicked away Genie’s attempts to stamp at his legs and groin, “and she never mentioned you at all! She must have loved ya more than anything in the whole wide world to keep her trap shut about you… through all that humiliation and torture. Sorry I ruined your little lesbian love fest… sorry I fucked your bestest friend to death… she was just so sexy!”

  Genevieve’s sublimely sharpened and focused mind knew that Seth was goading her into making a brash move, and although her face dropped for an instant at the mentioned of her beloved Annabelle and the lengths she had gone to in order to keep Genie out of the same horrific living nightmare she’d fallen into, Genevieve saw her chance.

  For a moment, Genevieve weakened her grip and let out a defeated whimper, before screaming like a banshee and renewing her efforts to claw out Seth’s heart. Seth grinned as Genie fell into his trap – or so he thought – and tightened his grip on her wrists, preparing to lean back. He intended to throw Genevieve against the metal grill and stomp her pretty head through the gridded iron bars, but he never got that far. Genie took his moment of overconfidence and turned it against him, much like Gaius had done to her in her early training sessions, and she leaned forward and smacked her forehead into Seth’s nose, smashing it into an unattractive smudge on his thuggish face. Before he could recover, Genevieve had shaken loose of his grip and raked her claws across his face, shredding his eyes and what was left of his nose into disgusting unusable flaps of bloody meat.

  As the blinded leader of the Golden Fangs wailed, Genevieve lunged at him and drove him down onto the grate. She stabbed him repeatedly in the stomach, smiling in satisfaction as droplets of his blood speckled the remains of the gang’s many victims below. She didn’t care if what she was doing constituted as justice or simple revenge; it felt right, and it felt good.

  “Heads on plates,” Genevieve said as she climbed off the fallen Vampire and paced around his shuddering body. “That’s what you promised me, remember?! We sat in the Woodsholme Grill and you promised me the heads of those behind Anna’s disappearance. You even said you’d tear your own gang members in half if they were responsible… well, I’ve already had your slut Scythe’s head, and I blew Gaius to smithereens, so I guess all that’s left for you is bisection. I hope you enjoy the slow bite of a power tool as much as you enjoyed raping and murdering my Annabelle!” Genie roared ferally, and kicked him in the ribs for good measure.

  “Elissa, please…” Seth Goldfang groaned weakly as he reached upwards into his blinded darkness for help.

  Genevieve walked over to one of the many well-stocked torture racks in the barbaric interrogation room and returned with a big, bloodstained yellow chainsaw. She dragged Seth onto the centre of the grate and pulled the cumbersome weapon’s cord, starting its engine in one flawless motion. The chain whirred and buzzed, and Genie smiled appreciatively at the satisfying noise.

  “Genevieve, Elissa, please… don’t do this…” Seth pleaded meekly.

  “I’m not your fucking sister,” Genevieve answered coldly as she moved the whirring chainsaw towards his groin. “She died a long time ago, along with whatever decency you were born with.”

  Veronica and Xavier studied the brutal display of vengeance with a mix of revulsion, admiration, and celebration, an odd combination of feelings that was no stranger to them in their line of work and many years as Supernaturals. They watched on as the leader of the Golden Fangs was slowly cut in half, from groin to head, and withered into dust that fell between the gaps of the grill like a shower of grey snow.

  Chapter 16

  Renovation

  For Genevieve, the days following the fall of the Golden Fangs passed by in a dizzying emotional blur. She had received her answers, and justice for Annabelle and the countless other victims, but Genevieve hadn’t been prepared for them, just as Veronica had prophesied. After the fight was done Genie’s blazing fury had eventually faded, but like a furnace out of fuel, she too had begun to shut down. The fiery rage that had propelled her through all the deceit-filled twists and turns, reeling revelations, and acts of betrayal had burned out, leaving Genevieve to pick up the pieces of her shattered mind.

  Luckily, Veronica had taken it upon herself to stay with Genevieve and act as a live-in councillor of sorts. She had been residing at the Woodsholme apartment with the broken young Nightclaw since they’d carried her weary frame out of Fort Dominia. Together, they talked of this and that, sometimes over drinks and Dreamleaf but never as much as Genevieve wanted. Veronica did what she could to mend the extensive damage to Genie’s psyche with blood magic and simple friendship, consoling her when she cried and calming her when she flew into a powerful rage. Veronica had claimed she could do in days what a human shrink wo
uld take years working on, but the grief had to heal naturally. Something that the Golden Fang’s lies, false leads, and inhumane actions had interrupted, stirred up, doused in DVO petrol and set aflame, making everything a hundred thousand times worse for poor Genevieve.

  During one of their many chats, Veronica had spoken of her Supernatural origins, a story that began roughly two centuries previous in a successful farm house. Her parents had raised their beautiful daughter with the primary intent to wed her to a wealthy suitor for an impressive dowry. The custom wasn’t that unheard of during those days and the many centuries prior, before it was officially abolished, along with a host of other dated and questionable traditions, by Autocrat Ernestina Delacroix ‘the iron woman’, Edgar Aurelius’ long-lived predecessor. Although her parents loved her, Veronica couldn’t forgive them for their lack of empathy and understanding when it came to her own needs, and the flirtatious extroverted Vampire-to-be had other plans in mind thanks to her keen intuition and prophetic good luck. One night, a Vampire had snuck into Veronica’s farmhouse looking for a quick blood top-up, someone that on some level she had been expecting and stayed up all night for, and the intruder had been so captivated by Veronica’s overwhelming beauty that he’d begged her to join him by his side. She took his hand and didn’t look back. Genevieve noticed that the Bloodmage spoke about her maker with a touch of guilt, and Veronica confessed that she had broken his heart a few decades after her rebirth as a Vampire, claiming that he just wasn’t ‘the one’ and that she was saving her heart for someone else, someone ‘different’.

  Lynette and Kavarne had visited briefly to drop off a case of potions and a briefcase of spare clothes for Veronica, which included an assortment of sleeping potions to aid Genevieve’s rough nights. They ended up staying for a few beers and to praise Genevieve about what they’d heard of her epic ultra-fast duel to the death, and to dig for more details. The visit came to an end when Kavarne claimed Lynette was as slow as a turtle compared to Genie, and they took their subsequent play-fight outside before they could break any furniture. Veronica had made a dirty joke about what usually happened when the play-fighting ended and expressed her theatrical disappointment about missing out on the vigorous sex show to come. Genevieve couldn’t help but snigger, but got the impression that Veronica wasn’t completely faking her interest in the Werewolf couple’s carnal carrying-on’s, and Genie imagined she’d jump at the chance to get in-between the two of them. Veronica had answered her thoughts with a comment about leaving the mind reading to the professionals, along with a moody comment about how Lynette and Kavarne considered Veronica’s insatiable sexual appetites, unorthodox interests, and blood magic fuelled abilities to be scarier than they were in their wolf forms.

  Kaylie, Varsara, and Tanesha had also dropped over to check on her, and just as Genevieve had anticipated, Veronica and the Supernatural prostitutes got on like a house on fire. The mentally drained Nightclaw had been surprised that the four flirts could keep their hands off each other, as their filthy jokes and banter slowly intensified into something more serious. Tanesha had apologised guiltily for partially spilling the beans during Seth’s finger-snapping torture, and Genevieve had forgiven her unquestionably while she took the slender Vampire’s hands in her own to check on her magically healed fingers, explaining that not only had it given her Seth all to herself, it had given her another eight crimes to add to his mile-long death warrant.

  As the others were joking, Kaylie had taken Genevieve to one side and mentioned that the Shadow Circle had offered them all jobs, but the whole crew was waiting on her decision before making theirs. Genie had replied by saying it was all too much for her to think about at that moment, and that they should choose for themselves. Varsara had popped into the kitchen and emerged with several bottles worth of liquor, offering to fix the room some seriously mean cocktails. Genevieve had said yes, but Veronica had said no, seemingly surprised by her own wise choice of actions. Before the girls left, Genevieve also told them the truth about Chloe’s fate – something she hadn’t had the chance to bring up during the chaotic chain of events – and they were beside themselves with happiness and amusement. Partly because the young Book Wielder was safe, and partly because Genie had royally screwed over the Golden Fangs long before she’d helped to wipe them out. They were so ecstatic, they’d had a ‘small’ drink in Chloe’s honour, despite Veronica’s original misgivings.

  Genevieve had also received a visit from her neighbour, the kind but nosey Mrs. Mayflower. She’d heard the news about Annabelle, most likely from her doorway snooping sessions, and offered her deepest condolences. Genevieve thanked her warmly, but when the elderly woman had rattled on about the gas leak at the Woodsholme Grill and her theories regarding the poor quality of tradesmen these days, Veronica had used her blood magic to convince the elderly lady to return home. Genie decided that if she ever chose to bridge into a different set of skills, then she’d definitely learn blood magic first.

  It hadn’t been long after when Lucius, the leader of the Shadow Circle, had called Genevieve’s home phone, and using expertly devised euphemisms he had offered her a Captain position within his gang and the territories stretching from Fort Dominia to Taynulia. She had assumed this meant Gregory now had a firm foothold from Woodsholme to the continent’s dividing mountain range. Genevieve had been pleasantly surprised by the mystically coded job offer, but had declined to make a decision right away, just as she had told the working girls a little while beforehand.

  After four days of mourning and mending, Genevieve felt strong enough to embark on her most challenging mission to date, and had asked Veronica to come with her to the other end of the continent to Legentium. She had to tell Annabelle’s parents, and her own, what had happened, albeit a heavily toned-down version that would save a few of their feelings and keep them off the Trinity’s radar. Veronica had graciously dished out the Sunshield potions, and they had travelled quickly in Veronica’s crimson sports car to the west side of Rura. They had stopped off at a shabby motel for the night to practise what to say, and Veronica claimed she could use her blood magic to make the four parents less interested in the details so that they wouldn’t try pressing for an explanation that would irrevocably lead to the Supernatural details. However, she advised against anything that would ease their grave reaction for the same reasons that Genevieve was subject to. Veronica had mentioned that she could get them to accept what had happened without a whimper of remorse, but once the two Supernaturals were down the road then the grief and heart-breaking anguish would strike twice as hard, spiked by fear and confusion. Genie didn’t want them hurting at all, but agreed wholeheartedly with the Bloodmage.

  Genevieve had used a pay phone to call ahead, and the next morning they had met with her parents, Betty and Don, and Annabelle’s mother and father, Martha and Julian. They had been shocked to see that Genevieve had changed so much, instantly causing reason for concern, and they peered curiously at her eyes which they could sense were different somehow, though they were unable to pinpoint how. Veronica had made her entrance, looking smart and sophisticated in a dark grey dress suit, and opened with long hugs and a sprinkling of blood magic. They had entered the Jones’ residence and broken the news of Annabelle’s kidnapping and murder slowly, carefully, and according to their rehearsed script. As the Jones’ wept and cradled each other, Genevieve’s parents had hugged their daughter, although they flinched from her cold touch. Genevieve had told them she could no longer visit as much, but that she was doing well and they shouldn’t worry, and that she would call and drop by whenever she was able. Before they’d departed back to Woodsholme, Genevieve had made a point of assuring them all that the savages responsible had been severely punished for their actions and would never be able to hurt anyone again, with the grace and subtlety of a mass-murdering psychopath. Veronica had hugged hastily them all goodbye and used her magic to convince them not to ask one of the thousand burning questions that Genevieve’s brash statement had c
reated.

  After leaving Legentium, Veronica had taken them into the bustling Capital for a quick pit-stop at the Hotel Noir. As she had pulled up outside the luxury old-fashioned hotel, Genevieve had stared at the fine architecture and brilliantly arranged front dining area, and studied the sheer class of the establishment. She’d seen the lavish hotel before but had never taken much notice, mostly as she’d never been able to afford a night there, but knowing that the Shadow Circle used it as their main base added another layer of intrigue that her hungry mind wanted to explore. Despite her interest, Genie had resisted Veronica’s request to join her inside, knowing that it would’ve most likely ended up as another recruitment attempt, and she didn’t have the stomach for it right then. A little while later, Veronica had arrived back with a few more bags, though not as many as Genie had been expecting. When Genevieve asked what the short visit had been about, Veronica had simply tapped the side of her nose and told her that she would soon find out.

  Instead of driving through the night, Veronica had pulled into a seedy motel and told Genie that they’d earned a night off after the emotional day. The establishment’s owner had greeted them eagerly and given them a look that suggested he believed they were using the lodgings for everything other than sleep. Veronica had turned her teasing charm up to the max, and the poor man looked ready for a change of underwear by the time he’d passed over the key to their best room at half the usual price. The naughty Bloodmage hadn’t made the situation any better when she’d loudly asked Genevieve if she’d remembered to pack the extra batteries for all of their many vibrators, and Genie giggled when she’d looked back and seen that the owner was close to fainting from sheer excitement alone. Genevieve had wondered about the man Veronica was saving her heart for, and imagined he’d have a tough time dealing with the busty Vampire’s wild side, unless he was ninety percent nympho too. They’d arrived in their room, and Veronica had emptied the minibar for starters and switched on the radio. The two Vampires had spent the rest of the night playing drinking games, and ultra-revealing rounds of Truth or Dare that were more or less Truth and Gossip rather than the dare choice. Veronica had even called the owner to bring more drinks, and when he’d arrived he had been clearly distraught that the two girls were still fully dressed. Veronica had given him a long peck on the lips to make up for the lack of lustful behaviour on their part, and had received the extra alcohol free of charge. Genevieve had wished that Annabelle had been there with them, whilst staring at the small picture of her inside the silver locket, and had drunkenly wondered what the world would’ve been like with the two master flirts combining their cheeky powers of seduction. Genie had chuckled out loud when she’d come to the conclusion that Veronica and Annabelle would’ve been ruling from Central Isle, if they’d been so inclined, a thousand times quicker than Edgar Aurelius had conquered the world through force. Veronica had skimmed her thoughts, raised a bottle of rum, and made a kind yet slurred toast in Annabelle’s honour. Genevieve had tapped a bottle of whiskey against Veronica’s bottle of rum, and the rest of the night had been lost to reminiscing and confiding the best, funniest, and naughtiest moments from their lives.