by Sean Davies
“Shh!” Constance hushed her quickly, hoping the driver didn’t hear.
“And since when was I your girlfriend, missy?” the Vampire Nightclaw asked with a puzzled look on her face.
In the heat of the moment Constance couldn’t tell how serious Genie was being, and she worried that she’d crossed the line, but she steeled her nerves and decided to just go for it. She reached up Genevieve’s skirt and gently brushed her lacy underwear.
“Since now,” Connie said firmly, hoping her gamble would pay off. “Unless you want to turn me down, that is?”
Genie hesitated for a moment, battling with her own nerves and hang-ups, before taking a deep breath. “Not a chance, girlfriend,” she whispered back, before pulling the Book Wielder to her lips again.
By some miracle, the driver managed to keep the car on the road whilst also keeping a steady eye on his rear-view mirror as Constance and Genevieve embraced each other carelessly. They broke apart once they caught a glimpse of Woodsholme’s tall outer perimeter wall, sitting upright and brazenly pulling their clothing and underwear back into place. The driver sighed with disappointment and readjusted his mirror to see the road behind, rather than the back seat.
After the merger, a ramshackle wall comprised mainly of junk, lumber, broken cars, and unwanted furniture, had been erected around the town to keep the monsters and Freaks out, but the Imperians had been quick to put up a proper, well-built stone wall to replace it. Genevieve had always thought it looked odd to see soldiers from the Legion of Imperia in red and black power armour manning the wall, instead of ancient centurions and ballistae.
Genevieve gave the taxi driver directions to her apartment building, which was a two-storied brick rectangle with parking underneath a section of the first floor that was raised on concrete stilts, and far from what Constance had been expecting.
“No offense, but I thought you’d live somewhere… flashier,” Constance confessed as they parked up beside the large green opposite the building.
“Well, I have more than one place, plus I normally just sleep wherever I’m working,” Genevieve replied as she paid the captivated driver. “This was mine and Annabelle’s first place. She paid the bills working as a dealer for the Shadow Circle, not knowing they were Supernaturals, while I went to college. It’s cheap to rent, cosy, and has everything I need—”
“Like a nice place to park the sports car?” Constance interrupted as they walked over to the building’s entrance, eyeing up a metallic black and blue sports car parked alongside the regular vehicles.
Genie scratched the Nightmare Nettle tattoo on the shaved side of her head. “Yeah… I’m not so humble when it comes to cars, or computers for that matter…”
Constance laughed as they entered the apartment block’s lobby and headed up the stairs to Genie’s home. As the Vampire Nightclaw searched for her key, an elderly lady peeked out of the neighbouring door.
“Hello, Mrs. Mayflower,” Genie greeted, without even needing to look up.
The old woman opened her door enough to poke her head around fully. “Oh, Genevieve!” Mrs. Mayflower gasped, pretending she hadn’t spotted the young women beforehand. “It’s so good to see you, and your… friend? Colleague?”
“Colleague and girlfriend,” Genevieve stated for the nosy woman, before quickly introducing them and unlocking the door.
“Hey,” Constance said with a little wave. “Nice to meet you.”
“How lovely.” Mrs. Mayflower studied the couple. “So, how did you meet, and where? And how is work going for you both? Do you have any idea what these blasted tremors are? They keep knocking over my poor old Arthur’s tea! I’ve asked around, and no one seems to know.”
“Uh…” Genie hesitated under the barrage of questioning.
Constance crossed her legs. “Sorry, we’re in a bit of a hurry—I really need the bathroom!” the Book Wielder said hurriedly, pushing into Genie’s apartment urgently.
“Oh, sorry dear, you run along now!” the elderly woman apologised as she closed her door. “I hope she doesn’t make a mess in the hallway, Arthur…”
“See you soon, Mrs. M,” Genevieve called, following her lover inside.
The Vampire Nightclaw grabbed her girlfriend as soon as the front door was closed, and pressed her lips against Connie’s.
Constance reluctantly tried to push Genevieve away. “I wasn’t lying about needing to pee, it was just really good timing!”
“Too bad—I need you right now,” Genie sighed seductively, keeping the Book Wielder firmly in her arms.
“I am literally going to piss myself, Genie,” Constance pressed, desperate to escape.
“I don’t care, it’s not like you haven’t drenched me before,” Genevieve joked slyly.
“That is so totally different!”
The blue-haired Vampire shrugged, winding her new girlfriend up. “Is it? It comes out of the same place. I don’t care either way—soak me, beautiful!” she said, rubbing Constance’s groin.
Connie struggled to get Genevieve’s hand away. “One is piss, the other is cum—or something. But it’s different! And you are gross!”
Genevieve put on her best puppy-dog eyes, trying to keep a straight face. “So you won’t do it? Not even if I ask nicely?”
“Are you serious? You are so dirty!” Constance gasped. “But, I mean… if you really want me to?”
“The idea doesn’t actually bother me as much as it should, so maybe some other time when we’re not standing in the middle of my living room,” Genevieve said nonchalantly. “The bathroom’s over there, honey.”
Constance’s eyes went wide. “You were having me on?! I can’t believe you!” The Book Wielder ran for the bathroom, letting out a gratified sigh as she relieved herself. “When I’m done in here, I’m going to kick your ass!”
Genevieve laughed and walked over to her record player, putting on Marissa Aluniana’s debut album, which was one of her favourite LPs.
“I’ve got to check in with Gregory ‘cause he’s going to be wondering where I’ve gotten to, so can the violence wait until after?” Genevieve called politely.
“Out of respect for the album you just put on, I will do you that one favour,” Connie shouted back. “Goddesses above, I miss Marissa!”
“Same,” Genie replied, as she went to her landline phone and dialled the number for the Open Vein nightclub.
Constance washed her hands and checked her make-up in the mirror, cursing Matthias Winters for rushing her out of the Stitches and Britches Bawdy House before she could do a proper job. She helped herself to some of Genie’s well-organised products, using the Vampire’s pee-related prank as justification.
The Book Wielder left the homely bathroom and saw Genevieve hanging up the phone.
“Shit, he’s in Imperia City. I was hoping to drop by the club while we were here,” Genie told her, dialling the number for the Hotel Noir. “Sorry, I’ll be with you in a sec, Connie-girl. Make yourself at home.”
“You don’t have any clothes I could borrow, do you?” Constance whispered. “I left mine in the bloody troop truck.”
“Hey, it’s Genie, is Greg about?” Genevieve said to the person on the other end of the line, while giving Constance a thumbs-up and pointing at her bedroom door. “Yo, Greg… no, nothing’s wrong. V put me on Conclave duty… yeah, Winston’s okay, just busy. I’m sure he’ll drop by soon… shut up! You and Kaylie?! No, ‘course I’m fine with it… how did you know I’ve met someone?!”
Constance smiled as she listened into Genie’s side of the erratic conversation, and looked around the reasonably-sized apartment. The living and dining area were adjoined, making the main space seem longer, and a wide window ran the length of the room, although Genevieve had covered it with a dark translucent film.
Beside the entrance to the small kitchen was a maple dining table large enough to seat six people, and nearby that was a walnut desk housing a big pink and white gaming PC, and two flat-screen monitor. There w
ere also several wooden organisers on the desk filled with labelled folders, colour-coded notes, and hundreds of pens, pencils, and various other stationery supplies, all sorted into type and colour.
In the main living area, beside the two bedrooms, was a brown three-seater couch with three matching armchairs, arranged around an oval-shaped coffee table scattered with coasters and a few empty ashtrays. Genevieve’s combined radio and record player unit was beside the window, stacked with albums sorted into genre and alphabetical order, and beside it were two waist-height units; one contained even more vinyl LPs, and the other was being used as a drinks (and drugs) cabinet.
“Huh, no TV,” Constance observed, losing count of how many books Genie had on her shelves.
The Book Wielder headed inside the bedroom Genevieve had pointed out, and giggled when she immediately spotted half a dozen sex toys on her bedside table.
“Guess you don’t have too many visitors, Genie-jay,” Constance said to herself. “Or at least, none who are particularly prudish,” she added, assuming it would take far more for the Vampire’s working-girl friends from Fort Dominia to bat an eyelid (not to mention Veronica Reynolds).
Genevieve’s bedroom was small, occupied mostly by her white double bed, and one side of the wall was taken up by inbuilt wardrobes covered in music posters. A small flat-screen television was fitted to the wall opposite the bed, above a short bookshelf with a CD player on top, and there was another tinted window that looked over the green on the opposite side of the road where kids were hanging out and playing ball games.
Constance rooted through the wardrobes, eventually settling on a pair of stretchy leggings and a baggy white t-shirt with a large solitary black triangle on it. She left the bedroom to find that Genevieve was still on the phone, giving her business partner Gregory as many details about her trip as she could without telling him anything strictly confidential, so Connie decided to take a look at the spare bedroom.
Other than a pink double bed, there was little of note within the room, other than some boxed-up clothes in the wardrobe that Constance assumed were Annabelle’s. Just as she turned back towards the door to leave, the ground rumbled, causing a framed photo on the bedside table to fall off. Connie bent over to pick it up, and heard an appreciative moan from behind.
“Like what you see, huh?” Constance said, sticking her ass out even further.
“Definitely… I can see why she likes you so much,” a confident female voice replied seductively.
Constance felt a shiver run down her spine, and she turned around slowly before immediately flinching backwards, stumbling into the bedside table. A gorgeous curvaceous woman with emerald green eyes and long, wavy blonde hair was standing by the door, wearing a low cut, tight white mini-dress. For a split second, Constance thought she was seeing a slutty angel, or perhaps Veronica’s long-lost sister, but she soon realised she was looking at a ghost.
“You’re Annabelle!” Constance gasped.
“Shhh…” the spectre of Annabelle warned, raising a finger to her lips. “I don’t have long—I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?” Connie whispered, wondering why the ghost hadn’t appeared before Genevieve instead.
“When you’ve made your choice—the one I know you’ll make—you need to remember who and what you are, for Genevieve’s sake,” Annabelle told her cryptically.
“I- I don’t understand,” Constance stuttered.
“You will, hun, but I need you to promise me that you’ll remember,” Annabelle said firmly, planting her hands on her perfect hips. “Promise me, Connie-Lee.”
The Book Wielder frowned. “Okay… I promise.”
“And best friends, and lovers of best friends, and lovers—keep their promises.” Anna pursed her painted lips as Connie furrowed her brow in confusion. “That sounded cooler in my head… anyway, you’re good for Genie, and it’s nice to see her happy and finally moving on, as much as it stings. Genevieve likes to act all tough and she keeps a lid on her heart most of the time, but she’s more sensitive than she lets on. So if you break our promise and break her heart, I’ll haunt your sexy ass ‘til the end of time. We clear?”
Constance nodded meekly.
“Good. Take good care of her, sexy-bum,” Annabelle said with a wink, before blowing Connie a kiss and fading away completely.
Connie shuddered, feeling suddenly as though she were standing on someone’s grave, and put the picture frame back on the bedside table. She noticed for the first time that the photo was of Genevieve as a human brunette, and Annabelle, standing with their arms around each other and smiling like they were the happiest people on the planet. The Book Wielder wiped a tear from her eye and left the room in a hurry, wondering what Anna’s ghost had been talking about, even though in the pit of her stomach she feared she already knew.
“You alright, hun?” Genevieve asked, hanging up the phone. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost…” She paused, her eyes growing wide. “You have, haven’t you?!”
Constance was still reeling from the experience, and stuttered a loose acknowledgement.
Genie took a deep breath and went to the kitchen, returning with two glasses and a bottle of scotch. She set the glass down on the coffee table without a word and filled them both up, necking one immediately before refilling it again. Genevieve sat down on the sofa and then patted the space next to her.
Constance joined her and picked up a glass. “Should you really be drinking if you’re going to drive?” she asked awkwardly.
“I’ll take a cleansing potion.” Genevieve downed her second glass. “What did she say?” she asked as she played with her heart-shaped locket, already knowing it was Annabelle’s ghost that had appeared.
Constance gave her lover a rundown of what had transpired in the bedroom, and then took a few swigs of scotch, coughing as it hit her throat.
“That’s all she said?” Genevieve asked softly.
“Uh huh. Well, except for a few compliments about my butt,” Connie replied.
Genie laughed quietly, and lay her head down gently on Connie’s lap. “Yeah, that sounds like Anna—subtlety was never her thing. Do you know what she was on about?”
Constance played with her girlfriend’s hair, tracing the outline of her nettle tattoo on the shaved side of her head with her finger. “No, not a clue,” she lied.
“Connie, tell me. Please,” Genevieve asked firmly, clearly not fooled for a second.
“I’m not one-hundred percent sure, it’s just an intuition thing. Maybe we should go now, I feel bad for leaving the others to it…” Constance replied, trying to avoid the line of questioning.
Genevieve frowned. “An intuition thing about what?”
The Book Wielder sighed. “I think I can fix what’s going on, but I feel like I’m not meant to come back. I know you say that you’re not going to let that happen… but what if you can’t do anything about it? What if that’s just the way it’s got to be?!” she blurted out, her vision blurring with unshed tears as her emotions began to catch her up. “Whatever we have is just going to end, and I’m going to end up leaving you too, and I don’t want to hurt you like that—”
Genevieve sat up and put her finger on Constance’s lips. “It’s okay—really it is, hun. I think Anna was telling you there’s another way. I don’t get or particularly like all the Fate-crap, but it sounds as if you have a choice in what’s going to happen when we get down there, and Annabelle’s advice has got to mean something. Why else would she go through the effort of appearing to you?”
Constance quickly wiped the tears from her face, hating how unattractive she looked when she cried. “I don’t want to leave you, Genevieve,” she sobbed. “I know we’ve only known each other for a little while, but if feels like so much longer. I can’t imagine being without you, it feels like I’ve been waiting for you my whole life, which is why none of this Creator crap makes sense to me!”
The Vampire Nightclaw embraced her girlfriend, rubbing he
r back in soothing circles. “Fuck this fate shit—we’re going to be fine,” she told Connie vehemently. “I couldn’t ever see myself feeling like this again, and even though I’ve always known Annabelle would want me to be happy, I still couldn’t allow myself to feel that strongly for anyone again… until a feisty, stubborn Book Wielder was forced on me by my sly friend Veronica. Now I feel like I can finally let go, and I’m not going to let some prophetic bullshit stand in the way. I’ll fight Fate, Creators, Demons, Archmages, clockwork-monstrosities, and the stars themselves for us, Connie Lee. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, I promise, and—”
“Please don’t do the promise line,” Connie interrupted, feeling considerably cheerier; even if she wished she could share her lover’s defiantly optimistic attitude in the face of destiny.
Genevieve smirked and leant in for a kiss, but the Book Wielder pushed her away politely.
“I… can’t. Not here, not after seeing Annabelle—for a while, at least,” Connie admitted, still feeling shaky after the ghostly exchange.
“Oh, yeah—of course,” Genevieve said, shaking her head slightly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have… I got caught up in the whole defying the deities thing.”
Connie smiled. “Do you think an unbreakable Katana will work on the gods?”
“Sounds like I’m going to find out,” Genevieve replied, flashing her fangs. “If not, I’ll call Jonathan up and get his wife to help—the Lord Imperator hates prophecies and predictions even more than I do.”
“I wouldn’t want to be Fate right now,” Constance chuckled. “So, what next? On to Gaelliard City?”
“Pfft, not yet,” Genie replied with a dismissive wave of her pale hand. “I’m taking my sexy new girlfriend out to the Night Owl restaurant for some of that fancy food she loves so much. The owner Dane and I go way back—even though I blew up his first place—so we’ll get extra portions,” she added greedily.
Constance sipped her scotch, reminding herself to read Genie’s autobiographical book in order to find out why exactly she’d blown up a restaurant, while Genevieve got changed and packed the few things she needed from the apartment, and they both prepared to head out to the Night Owl restaurant on foot.