cHAPTER 1
I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. - G. M. Hopkins
The sun was already high in the sky as Nathaniel Mallory pumped more amphetamine into his undead veins in the darkened theatre. The drug had long since lost any pleasurable effect on his body and only acted as a stimulant against the supernatural sleep he could not afford to give in to.
It was twenty-nine years ago when he began this second series of experiments in the Slavic city of Tchalis, south of Alucard. He had been open about his hypothesis then, proclaiming to the human press his plans to bridge inter-dimensional gaps through the construction of a 'D-Cannon' that literally ripped a hole in the fabric of reality. He'd been mocked and slaughtered by the mortal scientific authorities as another crackpot of the age.
However he was also a kindred of the Sabbat, the ruling Sect of Tchalis, and the Inquisition did not look kindly on a project that in effect could allow Dark entities free access to this world. He was tried and sentenced to death by acid-dismemberment and his wretched carcass to be strung out before the dawn. He shivered as the leech inside his soul remembered that fate.
He had one supporter though; Clois had been his crutch through all of this. She had also rescued him from the Sabbat and both he and Clois had fled to the Camarilla held city of Alucard. As the enemy of the Camarilla, the Inquisition would not be able to find him so easily, especially since Tchalis and all other cities not within the S.D.I. shields had been devastated by the 'Blitz' a few years after.
He studied his plans again with weary eyes and an even wearier mind. He had to have the machine finished and trialed within two nights, if his ally in the Elysium was to go ahead and provide the other 'ingredient'.
He still wasn't sure why he had received the help he had from such a powerful ally. He had been provided with the resources, finance and even this theatre, the Raven, to execute the experiment in. He guessed it might be scientific curiosity the same as himself, but knowing the kindred mind, he thought that unlikely.
He could sense the awful rays of the sun scour the buildings roof, its burning heat desperate to taste his flammable flesh. He had to hide and sleep.
He left his work reluctantly and jumped down into the orchestra pit where Clois huddled in the corner asleep. He smiled at the serenity of her beautiful features and lay down himself, allowing his fingers to gently touch her waist.
Lord Premier Lewis Eldritch watched the Central Sector by night from the massive Alucard museum with eyes older than most of the buildings he looked down upon.
The Central Sector was twenty-five square miles of brightly lit concrete landscape, struggling to perform the business of an entire city that didn't care any longer. A helicopter flew through the smog, its lights reflecting on the mirrored shades the Lord wore. He thought it slightly amusing how the mortals carried on twitching at the fluctuating price of shoe leather when fifty miles north the radiated dust of the deserts would greedily dissolve any such footwear as they crept past the struggling Opaque shields.
This city was finished; it had cheated itself from nuclear destruction only to appear on the other side more desperate and greedy. The region had no uncontaminated water, no usable fossil fuel, little wind and little direct sunlight. Alucard seemed constantly covered by a warm, repressive blanket of cloud that occasionally split to shower mild acid rain through the shield that stopped other types of air contamination getting through. Eldritch found it hard to imagine a worse place to inhabit.
However, here he had power. Not only was he director of Alucards' most vital company, Hydrocon, (without which the city would not be able to use the water that gave them light, heat and life) but he also sat on the Primogen council of three. One authority gave him influence over the mortals, the other over the kindred of the city.
Supreme authority lay in the Prince of course, and his own power originated from a triumvirate council, but over the centuries Eldritch had grown to know his other Premier's weakspots and the strings needed to influence Jathlid, the Prince.
Yes, unlife was good because he had made it so; he belonged to the Giovanni clan who always made it their soul purpose to excel in mortal business and immortal politics.
It was just a shame he had to have that power here in this rubbish heap of a city.
Senator Gratia came up the steps to the small-pillared balcony, a detestable man of the eleventh generation kindred. He was Giovanni (just) but the way he crawled round the Red-Beam district it was likely he was good part syphilis too.
'My Lord, the Prince wishes you to receive three childer as he's busy and notices that you...er...are not.' He tossed the greasy tentacle of black hair that hung over his dry scalp behind his ear nervously.
Eldritch looked at the smaller man with distaste and raised an eyebrow, already planting his question in Gratia's mind.
'Lord Premier Bruskov is with the Prince and Lady Premier Anfalas is not in the building, my Lord.' Gratia replied almost cringing.
Eldritch held his scowl a second longer before allowing it to fade into his pale, smooth skin, 'I will be but a moment.'
'Yes, my Lord.' Gratia backed away in a ridiculous bowing gesture.
Oh, Gratia?
Gratia's head appeared again at the top of the steps, 'Yes my Lord?'
'To which clan have they been sired?'
'A Gangrel, a Ravnos and...er...a Tremere, my Lord.'
Eldritch turned away and heard Gratia depart. The Gangrel and Ravnos would be of no great interest. It was more than likely they would return home to the outer-Sector scum pits from which they came. But the Tremere was more interesting. It was a constant challenge to watch with a wry eye the Witch clan and see that it had the least amount of power as possible.
In his Necromantic depths the evil amongst the dead were whispering to him about these childer. Something.
Nothing must be allowed to obstruct his plans with the Sabbat scientist. It was unlikely these mere progeny could do anything to influence the greater picture, but still...
He turned away from the view and grasped his cane, the ornate lamb's skull that mounted it allowing his long fingers to slip between the bones. He struck it against the floor, producing a small vicious flash that reflected instantly in his mirrored sunglasses before descending the steps to meet his enemy.
'Do you like fellatio?'
A tassel of the girls' hair flicked around Fenris's ear as she leant forward, the wind whipping around them as his bike hit sixty-five. He'd never heard of the word, but he suspected the company he was keeping made it self-explanatory.
'I'd prefer to get where I'm looking for!' he shouted over the scream of the bike's engines. The bike was still partly choked with the dust he'd picked up from the long journey here. He'd dutifully made an attempt to introduce himself to the Prince and after proving he was indeed of the Camarilla kindred, had been welcomed by a Lord Premier instead. Fenris was disappointed with this, it was not supposed to be this way. His opinion of the Prince had lowered considerably.
The Premier had acknowledged their presence like flies in his chamber, his eyes hidden behind mirrored, silver glasses. He had not liked the man; he sensed a darkness within him. Not like the glorious darkness of the wilderness, but the kind of darkness that bred in sewers and city alleys. But he was an Elder and thus he had shown respect.
He sensed other childer being introduced with him but he only caught the occasional glimpse in the shadowed halls; two females he thought.
After that, things had been more structured, if he chose to stay within the inner city cloaked guards had given him brief details of a safehouse in Sector 2. Their tone had been more like orders.
And then he had been thrown back out onto the streets, he had been given all the official guidance he was going to get. It was time to start fending for himself. Now he was alone; Grant Fey a memory.
He pushed that sorrowful thought away angrily, turning a corner at such speed that the prostitute behind had to cling desperately to his sides.
The city was already depressing him, with its grey sky, monolith buildings and oily puddles. He thought even less of the mortals.
'Turn left here, and then straight for two blocks!' his guide shouted in his ear, 'Can you go faster?'
Fenris complied, roaring in and out of the little traffic on the streets out of the Central Sector.
They arrived at Sector 2 Block 120 in half of an hour, Apartment 13 was several doors down from the alley where they pulled up.
'Well, here you are, as I promised.' The girl got off the bike and began adjusting her hair, 'We arranged 40 Necros.' she said without looking him in the eye.
Fenris got off the steaming bike and reached into his inside pocket, 'What did you say your name was?'
'Sindi. With an 'i', not a 'y'.' He gave her the money which she deposited in the grasp of her suspenders, 'I'd like a kiss for my troubles as well.' she smiled moving closer.
Fenris immediately felt the wolf within him begin to waken, to salivate at the thought of hot blood after such a long trip. He inclined his head to hers, trying to ignore the stench of perfume that stung his sensitive nostrils.
He jerked his head up and backwards to the group of men that stood just yards away.
Sindi backed off towards the entrance to the alley, 'Woh, er...see ya Fen. You give me a call yeah?' She ran.
'Another visitor.' One of the men said, clenching a chain in both hands.
They charged as one. Fenris spun on his heel, his foot colliding with a man's chest that sent him sprawling in a puddle. He ducked as a bat missed his face, a steel chain hit his knee making him kneel in pain.
He tried to send blood to his muscles but he was so tired. A heavy figure jumped on his back, but he immediately threw the man off into the darkness with a yell. A metal bat hit him in the face from out of nowhere; he staggered back as more hits rained down upon him.
Finally, exhausted, he fell.
Apartment 13 was also known as Arkhouse. It was an old style three-floor building, with damp warping the floors and heavy shutters that covered the windows. A set of moulding concrete steps raised out of the ground to the front door. The inner hallway was dark, the diamond tiles on the floor had small weeds growing in-between those that were missing. A staircase stretched like a corpses' arm towards the second floor, but Fenris was dragged into a doorway to his right and flung on the ground.
'Another one? That's too many fucking licks that we don't know anything about! They can't stay, Juggler!'
'We have the room.'
'So what are we, the fucking Salvation Army?'
Fenris tried to stop the blood dripping into his eyes, but he was too exhausted to even make it clot. He made out several figures in the shadowy room lit only with a single naked lightbulb.
Marian recognised the bloke on the ground to be a Gangrel. She'd seen them around the camp, tall, rough country boys with muscles. No sense of humour. But big muscles. She hoped he was on her side. The vampire behind her still held her tight, she gave him a sharp elbow in the stomach just for the hell of it.
Juggler brought his attention back to Marian and the city girl who had to be gagged because she kept screaming. Juggler sat on the musty sofa, his face almost as pale as his hair, but his features strong and that of a leader. Flanking him were a Brujah punk girl, named Crook with an attitude almost as big as the house, she kept butting in but Juggler seemed to have infinite patience. On his other side was a slim man swathed in a black coat, with a cat-like face. His name was Grimes which seemed to suit him down to the fish-hook earrings he wore.
'As I was saying,' Juggler said, 'this is my house and you follow my rules while you're here. I don't want to come down hard on you children, but you're in a completely different game now from your cosy past lives. I trust you've been sufficiently trained by your sires not to do anything stupid like going round showing off any powers you might have to the mortals. Any shit like that and you'll find out just how many contacts I have in this city.' He ran a bony hand through his dead hair as if it was a strain to talk this way.
'Now, you play the night games our way and don't go stepping on anyone's toes and we'll be fine. In Arkhouse we look out for each other, but if you want to do your own thing feel free. Hey, I can be liberal!'
Juggler clearly needed sleep, he resisted Crooks' efforts to help him as he gave a brief farewell and moved through some double doors adjoining the back room.
'There's a couple of rooms free upstairs, take 'em.' Crook muttered before following Juggler.
Marian picked up Fenris from the floor and helped him upstairs, Carmina sunk limply in the arms of a Brujah as they followed.
'Make sure you close those curtains tight, kids!' Grimes giggled like a girl.
The voices were harsh and cold in the empty darkness,
'Repeat the words! Repeat them!'
Carmina could not see into the dark, she could only smell something damp and faintly rotten.
'Repeat the words.' A calmer voice interrupted, female, 'I, Carmina St.Michael, hereby swear my everlasting loyalty to the House and Clan Tremere and all its members.'
She wanted to obey that sweet voice and she stumbled over the words, her thoughts numb and confused.
'You must partake in the power, to attain power...Swallow...'
A container was brought to her lips and hands pushed her face towards it. She struggled but she was forced harder.
The liquid was thick and warm; it seeped over her lips and across her tongue. The liquid felt like whisky, searing her throat, making her shiver. Her senses began to come back to her and she felt better. But the taste, it was...it was blood!
Carmina screamed as she reached the surface of her dreams. She sat up on the smelly mattress to find some grubby gypsy girl staring at her incredulously, 'Christ! What's up your arse, girl?'
Carmina ignored her and looked bewildered around the shaded room. Its cracked mustard coloured walls, cobwebs stretching over the peeling surface to the bare floorboards that were missing in places. The mattress was the only convenience in the room.
'Where am I?' she said gruffly, her throat still sore from the scream. Or was it something else?
'Well, at a guess it's not the Copa Kabannah.' the girl said, lighting up a cigarette.
Carmina looked over to the figure at the other end of the mattress, 'Who are you?'
'Hi, I'm Marian.' She held out her hand, 'I'll be your room-mate for the next eternity.'
Carmina crawled away from the bejewelled wrist, she held her head, feeling thoughts but not able to focus on them
Marian stood up and walked to the window, pulling one of the nails out of the wall that held the curtain to it, she looked out on the street below, 'First night in the big city. I suppose you used to live here?'
'What? No of course not...'
'Not here, you dope! I mean here in the city, you look like a career chick.' Marian smiled in the moonlight.
Carmina regarded her with distaste, 'I'm not telling you anything until you've told me where I am. Do you work for DeSenko?'
Marian frowned, 'Hey man, we're using the same paddle here. This is your new life!'
'What are you talking about?' Carmina found that her knife was still lodged in her pocket.
'You're one of us now. Well you're not, but you kinda are only different families so to speak. The kindred you know? Vampires? Didn't they teach you anything at bloodsucker school?'
'You're bloody crazy,' Carmina got up and wrapped her coat round her shoulders, 'I don't need no drugged-up hippie at me right now, thanks.'
'You want to keep that gob of yours shut lady, unless you have a spare ashtray on you' Marian growled.
Carmina walked to the door, but before she could open it, it burst inwards. She screamed and fell back on the mattress.
Fenris stood at the door, dagger drawn.
'Well hello, Tarzan.' Marian grinned.
'I thought after last night...when you weren't there this evening...that er...something had happened.' Fenris blustered, putting away his knife. 'My name is Fenris, Get of Fey of the Gangrel clan.' He knelt at Carmina's feet.
'I've gotta get out of here.' Carmina shook her head.
The moon shone like a clean washed pearl in the sky above the Raven theatre. On the balcony below, Clois Hutson ran the ring on her finger around her knuckle for the hundredth time.
The Nathaniel Mallory she had known would never have agreed to this. The man she had fell in love with over sixty years ago was focused upon scientific discovery, but not at the expense of mortal lives.
She had never been at ease in the Sabbat, despite the terrifying Creation Rites of being buried alive that all initiates had to get through, her conscience had never been broken completely. She had shunned away from the slaughter as her pack-mates hunted on the once tidy streets of Tchalis. One night she would have had to kill like them, and if she didn't they would take her 'unfit' blood for themselves. Such was the way in the Sabbat. And then she found Nathaniel. The only vampire she knew who was not devoted either to ritual massacre or Inquisitional fanatiscm. He had his own spirit.
Clois was fully taken in by his visions of inter-dimensional travel which only the fabled were-wolf Lupines had mastered. They worked together, fed together and slept together. But this blissful world was shattered when those in the Inquisition found about his plans had dragged his beaten body away to await a 'witch-trial'.
She couldn't let that happen, and quite capable of infiltrating the Hall of Caine Perverted, she rescued her unconscious lover and escaped North to her home city of Alucard.
They waited in hiding many years until introducing themselves to the Prince. Many had wanted their blood but the Premier Eldritch, knowing of Mallory's reputation had stood for them. Now she suspected why.
All of a sudden human sacrifices were needed to bridge the dimension.
Why? What dimension were they attempting to reach that needed virgin blood to allow access?
She walked back into the gallery where Mallory stood talking to the short untidy girl that had come with Eldritch's plans. Her name was Ann Harris, a Brujah, she suspected by her attitude.
She climbed over the loges and swung gracefully down onto the forestage, keeping her eye on Harris.
'Well Clois, tomorrow night we may have achieved our dream at last.' Mallory beamed.
'Are you still insistent we need blood?'
'It's not a case of needing it my dear, its just...well...'
'A lubricant.' Harris spoke up as her eyes locked with Clois's.
'That's right.' Mallory nodded as if Harris was a fellow scientist instead of the white trash she was.
'Where will you get it from?' Clois asked coming closer and dreading the answer. 'I bet virgin blood is scarce amongst these people.'
'Not if you get them young enough.' Harris smiled wickedly, her large fangs biting into her lips. 'We're going to hit an orphanage. The St.Stanford on 771 Block.'
Clois couldn't believe what she was hearing, 'You can't...Nathaniel, you have agreed to this?'
Mallory looked sad and tried to hold her shoulder which she avoided, 'Lord Eldritch insists, and without his support...'
'But children?'
'I'll leave you two to sort out your morals.' Harris jumped down from the stage, 'Be ready.'
Mallory nodded but noticed that Clois was still staring at him. 'If its the way it has to be, then let it be.'
'You would've never accepted this before.'
Mallory turned on her suddenly, 'That's right and maybe that's why I never got anywhere! This is my chance to prove my theory and if a few snot-faced mortal brats have to be done away with, then that's fine by me!'
Clois was not all together shocked by the answer, it was his ambition afterall, but that didn't make it right, 'I can't agree with you on this one, Nathaniel.' she said quietly.
'And do you suppose I care?'
Clois turned away and walked into the wings, he would not see her cry.
Mallory considered calling after her, even dominating her round to his opinion. He had done that before and it seemed he was doing it a lot recently. What was happening to him?
He pushed the thought away, he didn't need her help now. He had other friends.
' Let me go. Please!' Carmina pressed her self against the wall, away from the two maniacs.
'What is she talking about?' Fenris said.
'I dunno, she's being going on like that since she woke.' Marian was studying a scuff mark on her boot intensely.
Fenris seemed to study Carmina, he sensed she was kindred. Perhaps she was a Caitiff, a vampire embraced without the necessary care of a close sire. He had heard the inner-city clans were not as welcoming of their neonates and thus they tended to be a little neurotic. 'Listen, we're not going to harm you. We're, well, I'm your friend, we should stick together.'
'I don't want to be your friend! I just want to get out of this rat-hole, okay?' Carmina spat, edging towards the door.
Fenris looked resigned, this befriending other vampires bit was not going according to his plan, 'If you must go, then go.' he sighed.
'Thanks.' Carmina scrambled out of the door and headed for the stairs.
'Wait! I don't even know your name!' Fenris shouted to her rapidly descending figure.
'Oh, let the snotty bitch go.' Marian muttered. 'C'mon lets check this place out.' She trotted off towards the third floor.
Fenris looked after Carmina who ran out of the house, then after Marian who was whistling some tuneless melody down the rustic corridor.
This was very weird. Surely he should be taking charge here?
'Oi, Fen! Move your arse, will you!' Marian called from the stairway upwards.
'It's Fenris gypsy.' Fenris growled getting very frustrated with the way things were turning out.
Huddled shapes crawled around the overflowing dustbins on the street corner, they whistled and shouted as Carmina ran past looking for a taxi in this damnable area. She saw the familiar black-green metallic of an Alucard taxi and shouted.
The car did a screeching U-turn and sped back up the street towards her only stopping once it had mounted the pavement. A fat man of indiscriminate age seemed to be welded into the drivers seat, he leaned over, his jowls shaking, 'What?'
'I need a ride, Block 110.' she panted and got into the grimy interior.
The car sped off, presumably to where she had asked, but she couldn't be sure with taxi's. She tried to recall the last few days, but could only remember horrifying nightmares and voices like one bad acid trip. The skin on her face felt somehow different, cold but not clammy. She needed a bath and a hot meal. Yeah, and maybe a shrink to sort her head out.
The taxi swerved round a narrow corner away from Arkhouse. Headlights appeared in an alley like phantoms before the black BMW followed.
'Bollocks. It's locked.' Marian barged her shoulder against the hatchway that opened onto the roof but it was locked from the outside. 'Who puts a lock on the outside of a roof?' she called down the ladder to Fenris on the wide space of the third floor.
The third floor seemed to be converted store-space, only slightly converted however, as only what looked like an office was habitable. Fenris walked over, its door and glass covered in elaborate fur. 'Why don't you give it up?' he said over his shoulder.
'What? There's someone singing on the roof and I want to know who it is!'
'Are you always this curious?'
'Hey, I'm a Ravnos, it's my job to interfere in other peoples business!' She jammed her shoulder up against the door again, delicately keeping her balance on the rusty ladder that stretched up five metres to the ceiling.
Fenris looked at the fur more closer, recognised it as...
'Wolf-fur.' A woman appeared at the office door.
Fenris stepped back, 'My name is Fenris, Get of Fey. Where did you obtain such material?'
Marian climbed down the ladder giving up the strange dirge she had heard on the roof in favour of meeting or beating their new adversary.
'I am Hollow, Get of Grimfeld and like you, a Grey Hunter.'
Fenris balked, the female who stood before him was tall but lanky, a long auburn dress covered her frame, a dangling teardrop necklace round her thin neck. She wasn't what Fenris had expected city-Gangrel to look like. An untidy mop of blonde hair hung gently over small animal eyes outlined heavily in black.
'I..er..I imagined that you would be broader.'
She laughed cruelly, 'Why? Because you yourself are built like a Blood Claw? You'll find that most times you need brains not brawn in the city, Fenris.'
A huge centipede appeared from her sleeve and caressed her long fingers with chitinous legs.
'And a few bugs to while the time away.' said Marian stepping back.
'I have my ken as you have your trinkets, gypsy.'
Fenris stepped between them as Marian began forward motion. 'Could I perhaps speak with you?' he offered to Hollow.
She opened the door to the small interior a little wider and he edged in.
Marian was about to complain but was fixed in a cold glare from Hollow before the door slammed.
'Is everyone bitchy around here?' she said to the empty floor, the beautiful singing continuing from above.
The cramped room seemed filled with open glass tanks on every side; each one covered in vines and rotten foliage behind which Fenris spotted black things moving around. The temperature was excessive. Hollow placed herself in the armchair holding a Giant Weta cricket that rubbed its stubbled body across her chin, 'You're privileged to be in here, I wouldn't allow anyone else in the house inside.' Fenris idled with the idea that he might not be so lucky as a Preying Mantis raised its grasping front legs from a nearby branch. 'You're Gangrel so I'm trusting you. What do want then?'
'This place...is not what I was expecting.' Fenris began uncomfortably, 'Everything is so much different from the Homelands, not just the city but the way of life, the attitudes. Kindred here are so...directionless.'
Hollow grinned, 'Welcome to the jungle, friend.'
'But is this true of all kindred here, they are subjugated so easily to a system they care nothing about?' Fenris lifted his foot so that something could crawl past it.
'It's tough for Gangrel here, Fenris. As a Grey Hunter you are supposed to spy on the actions of the other clans, (and that's what we are really, spies) but the system prohibits us from mixing where the real power is. Our own Wolf-Lord is but a mere Councillor in the Parliament. The Anarchs couldn't give a shit, despite Jugglers' dreams of revolution. At this level the Jyhad is essentially pointless.'
'That can't be-'
'Believe it Fenris, it's all well and good to protect the interests of our clan, to stop those thieving Giovanni opening some detestable factory in the Homelands, but there's no-one to fight here. That's why the wolf-priests only send the best Hunters into the city now, 'cos you get marooned here.'
Fenris felt his distaste for the city coming back. 'So if you're one of the best, why do you just shut yourself away like this.'
Hollow gave a short mock-laugh, 'No, I was sent decades ago. My type will be helping the native Indians find clean water nowadays. I can't go back there to that type of competition; to the standard kindred like you have set.'
She got up and put her hand to his broad shoulder, 'The wolf runs strong in you, Fenris, but the city will eat you up if you fight against it. If you can't assimilate...then you best escape.'
'Fey may have been right then...' he said sadly.
Hollow looked concerned, but a gun shot rang out from outside. Fenris dragged open the door and sprang out, pistol drawn.
'Locks' off.' Marian beamed, bringing her aim down from the ceiling where the trapdoor now had a sizeable hole in it.
Carmina slammed the door shut behind her, she rubbed her face again trying to dislodge the sluggishness that seemed to wallow under her skin.
There was a note at her feet.
She knelt and picked it up,
Carmina, where are you?
If you get this meet me at the Brat Shack tavern at 9pm Tomorrow.
Terry.
'Terry.' Thank God they hadn't got him too. Suddenly she wondered whether DeSenko's men had followed her here. They had let her go way too easy; they obviously wanted to know where she lived. She cursed herself for coming here and not the newspaper. She rushed over to the window where a slow breeze blew rain half-heartedly onto the glass. There was no sign of anyone outside. She hesitated before switching on the light though.
She was too tired for this. She would have a bath, change, and then worry about gangsters.
She slipped off her shoes and coat and walked into the bathroom. 'Oh Christ, please tell me I don't look that bad.' her reflection in the mirror was that of someone closer to forty than twenty-six. Her hair was dry and dull, the skin under her eyes sunk down grey onto her cheekbones.
She put a broken-fingernail to her cracked lips tentatively. She groaned again, wondering how many nights she had lain unconscious on that scabby bed.
The warm water of the bath sent out drifting clouds of steam to take away her image in the mirror, she poured in frankincense bath oil and let its spice revitalise her senses somewhat. She undressed right there, stripping down to just her briefs and walked back into the lounge. The oil lamp she lit emitted the sweet scent of honeysuckle to make the flat seem cosier. She began to unwind at last.
A box was on the bed as she opened the bedroom door.
She looked at the strange box. Panic seized her mind. Someone had been in here!
They still might be…
She covered her breasts and ran to the cupboard, grabbing a robe and hurriedly putting it on.
The box was a shade of ebony with a dark bow held by black leather bindings. She approached it cautiously, expecting someone to appear as if from nowhere. She wondered briefly why she was not gasping with the asthma attack that she'd anticipated.
Her hands trembled as she undid the bindings, fumbled with the small rococo lock on the front. She lifted the lid slowly.
The black silk of the bow extended inside to cushion the contents. There were two scrolls, bound with what looked like dried blood. She took them out first and placed them on the bed. Inset into the box was a knife. By its side a small vial of dark red liquid.
She took out the knife and held it up. The blade twisted around itself, the sharpened edge coiling before coming to a deadly point. The handle felt like reptile scales in her palm, in its head was imbedded a small gemstone; an opal.
There was a banging on the door.
She turned around clasping the blade to her chest. The knocking continued.
She replaced the knife and went to her bedside cabinet, retrieving the pistol she hid there. 'Just a minute!' she called.
Stopping the bath first, she padded slowly to the doorway.
She released the safety catch on the weapon and leaned forward to the spy hole in the door.
A large hand dragged her from behind and back into the room, a pad of chemicals was clasped around her mouth.
Fenris levered the trapdoor upwards against the wind and climbed up onto the roof. The singing had stopped. Marian clambered up, immediately looking around.
The drab townscape of Sector 2 lay fitfully around them, most of the windows in the nearby buildings were dark.
A youth came forward from behind a crumbling chimney flanche, his features were smooth and boyish in the moonlight, his long, dark hair swaying slightly.
'You're gorgeous.' Marian said staring.
'My name is Hollywood, you must be the newcomers.' Hollywood smiled offering his hand to Fenris.
'I am Fenris, Get of Fey.' Fenris said eyeing the boy suspiciously.
Hollywood nodded and shook Marian's palm.
'You're gorgeous.' she said again.
'There's a place on 500 called Club Morticia, it's on the skirts of Central.' Hollywood said as they all sat on the roof taking in the not-too-impressive view.
'We must hunt.' said Fenris.
Marian lifted her head from Hollywoods' shoulder, 'Woh, hang on there Cap'n Ahab. Hunting in the city isn't the same as out there in the sticks. You don't just get that big whip out of yours and reel in tonight's supper!'
Fenris scowled at her, 'I have been trained in seduction techniques.' he said proudly.
Marian burst out laughing.
Hollywood stood up, 'Listen its okay, I have some vessels I don't mind sharing.'
'Nah, that's no fun!' Marian laughed, 'Its gotta be a nightclub. Anyway I want to see Romeo here in action!' she giggled.
Fenris leapt up, his eyes blazing red, 'Don't mock me, woman!'
'I'm off anyway.' Hollywood said half-attempting to diffuse the situation.
Marian jumped up and followed Hollywood down the ladders, she patted her thigh towards Fenris, 'Heel, boy!' she teased.
Fenris growled, bordering dangerously on the edge of frenzy.
Assimilate. That's what Hollow had said. He focused on calming down and ignoring the gypsy who disappeared down the hatch.
He gave the Sector one last look and smiled. Tonight they would find out how a real hunter stalked.