Chapter 3

The smell of bacon filled the house. A sickly scent of coffee mingled with it to create a wholly human aroma. The sounds emanating from the kitchen gave nothing away as to the otherworldly nature of the goings on therein.
Lisa emerged from the basement to find Heidi making breakfast. She moved from stove to counter top, wearing a pale pink bathrobe. As Lisa entered the kitchen the other woman looked up and said, "So, we have coffee or orange juice this morning."
Lisa's parents had never let her drink coffee. Heidi didn't worry. Of course Lisa not having physical metabolism meant the caffeine had no effect to detriment her development. Or any effect whatsoever.
Heidi set the dining room table and served up her eggs, toast, bacon and hash. They sat down and Heidi looked into Lisa's eyes before digging into her own food.
"You've fed?" she asked. Lisa had no idea how she could know; looking into her aura or her mind, or maybe there was a tell in her appearance.
Lisa hung her head and began telling Heidi about the bodies she had left behind. She choked on her words as she described how each man had died. When she had finished the other vampire was patting her hand, and she was in tears again.
“You did good. It’ll be okay,” said Heidi. “So you called 911 with their phone?” Lisa nodded.
“Did you wipe down your finger prints?”
Lisa went wide-eyed and stared at Heidi in horror. The older girl smiled sadly (or was it condescending?) and said, “That’s okay. We don’t leave much in the way of finger prints, and if they do identify them they will have a dead end. Literally.”
This was true. Lisa was officially dead; autopsy, funeral, and wake. It had been an ordeal, particularly the funeral where there had been an open casket and Lisa had been conscious the entire time. It was the last time she had seen her family up close.
It was this thought that brought to Lisa a new worry. What would happen to her family if the police ID’d her? Her family was still alive, maybe they would think the finger prints belonged to one of them. A memory of her little brother denying his theft of a cookie came to mind, but in this vision instead of a missing cookie it was missing lives he was denying. She voiced this concern to Heidi.
“Well, I don’t think the finger prints would bear any resemblance but it is possible that an oddly inclined detective might want to ask your family some questions about you…” Heidi trailed off in thought, then came back with, “I’ll have to talk to O’Reilly, he has contacts with the coroner. That may help. We can always check up on the family.”
Lisa sighed, and slumped to staring down at her knees.
“Did you want to go see them tonight?” Heidi asked.
Lisa looked up at her confused for a moment. ‘Would she like to see the bodies?’ It was a moment before she realized Heidi meant her family. But by then it was too late and the idea had sunk and rooted. Though the notion of looking over the cold dead faces made her sick to her stomach, she suddenly needed to see it. It was as though she needed to do it for closure. But that wasn't right, was it?
“No,” Lisa answered after a moment. “I want to see the bodies. Could O’Reilly get us into the morgue?”
O’Reilly was Heidi’s Master. Not the one who turned her, he was dead in a permanent fashion, but the one to whom she owed her loyalty within the strange feudal/ corporate structure of vampire society. He was a bit of a prick, using those in his service as peons to expand that very power base. Of course from what Lisa had seen that was pretty much the norm.
Heidi seemed to flinch at the thought of asking her Master for a second favour in the same day. But then her expression cooled into its usual impenetrable mask of cheeriness.
"I think he could," she said. "Will he? Well, we'll see." With that she turned back to her breakfast.
Lisa turned back to the food too. It was all impeccably cooked. Although a vampire's sense of taste quickly disappeared along with his pulse, but the sense of smell was sharpened to perfection and some tastes, usually the favorites, lingered. Heidi continued to eat breakfast like a human and insisted Lisa do the same. Of course Lisa could taste only the contents of the food, not the food itself. The eggs, for instance, tasted of fat, oil, pepper, sodium, protean, and several other things, probably omega-3s and the like. It stuck on her pallet like warm cereal, but she swallowed it anyway.
The bacon was another story however. Lisa had always liked bacon, and while she could taste everything in and on the bacon, she still liked it and savoured it for as long as she could.
After breakfast Heidi went upstairs to call O'Reilly, and Lisa turned on the news. Her murder wasn't the only headline, a hooker had been killed in a hotel downtown. She then began to steel herself in preparation for the trip to the morgue.


Marc was not happy as he drove to the morgue. In fact that was an understatement; he was furious. The late night traffic was making matters worse, if that were even possible. It would have been easy to get away with speeding in any event seeing how the person sitting next to him was a cop, assuming anyone bothered to pull him over.
Aida sighed, audibly, for the fiftieth time. A literal number, Marc had been counting. As much as he loved the dark woman sitting next to him, he despised some of her habits, and now was not a time for stressing his tolerance of those habits. Still she did them, and still he tolerated, but he knew he was nearing the end of his rope.
"I don't need you to get into the morgue," he said. Aida had changed out of her duty uniform and into a more casual outfit, but she still had her badge on her belt like some plainclothes detective.
"I know, but you need someone to go with you," she replied. "You shouldn't be alone right now."
Marc was almost touched by her concern. But he didn't know if it was a question of making sure he was okay, or making sure he didn't hurt anyone else. That thought soured him once more, and a dark scowl returned to his pale face. Marc was not a large man and like many persons of Mexican decent he wore a cross at his throat, revealed in the open collar of his finely tailored suit.
A they drove to the morgue, he dwelt on what had happened. It had always been a possibility, in fact from one point of view it was inevitable. None-the-less the events of the previous night, that senseless murder, filled him with rage. Soon he would have to face the facts of loss, but before that came vengeance. And that was probably why Aida was travelling with him.
The morgue was cool, icy even, not that Marc noticed. Instead of slipping in through a window or a back door as he had been planning to do they walked through the front door. Aida's badge got them past security, and Marc had to admit that it was a useful thing to have around.
They were taken into the freezer by the night-shift worker, a pale goth-like young man. The corridors were confusing and everything smelled of formaldehyde. Still, the building was deserted at Eleven pm, which made sense. Who the hell would hang out with a bunch of dead people at night?
"Got a lot of bodies in today," the night coroner was saying. "Some kind of gang fight, then the girl you wanna see."
"What sort of 'gang fight'," Aida asked stiffly. It was her cop voice, used more often for interviewing witnesses.
The young man shrugged as he turned a corner into the freezer room, where a number of tables sat with white sheets covering the bodies on top. "The news just said you guys were following some leads, and frankly it looks like someone set a dog on them after," he replied.
"After?" Marc asked and the man shrugged again and led them to a particular metal slab.
The goth checked the toe tag on the body then, with a "this is it" he left them to inspect the body.
Marc stared down at the white sheet before unveiling the body. He needed to see the body, he knew, at least to make sure it was who he knew it to be. But then, he didn’t really need to pull back the sheet. He could feel it.
Then there was a sound from the hallway. A group of people were coming. Marc turned to see the goth coroner leading a trio into the freezer. They looked like a family, a small buxom blond and her teenage daughter dressed in black. The man was tall and heavy set, with a long scar running from his forehead to his dimpled cheek. What was more, Marc recognised him instantly.
“Sorry,” said the goth, “I have some relatives here to I.D. the other bodies. If that’s okay with you?” The question was aimed at Aida, who turned to Marc for reassurance.
“It’ll be fine Oz,” said the tall man, the tall vampire. “You can go.”
O’Reilly then turned to Marc and stared at him from the doorway where the trio had yet to move into the room. The goth turned and left in obsequious obedience to his master.
“It’s been a rather long time, Marcus,” O’Reilly said with his usual dry politeness.
“Not too long, a couple months since I was last invited to a council meeting,” Marc replied. His voice too took on a cold detached quality.
O’Reilly turned to the child standing beside the woman Marc had first presumed to be her mother. “You may as well go and do whatever it was you wanted to do,” he said.
Marc began to cross the room, stepping around the metal slabs. The tall teen vampire entered the room at a tentative pace, seeking something out among the lumps of white.
“This is your creation then?” the latino man asked, indicating the older girl, who wore a dark cocktail dress that left far too little to the imagination.
“My daughter, and granddaughter,” replied O’Reilly. The he abruptly cut off the discussion. “Despite our rather cordial meeting, I must be going.”
He turned to leave then turned back to his daughter for a moment. “A word, before I go, Heidi,” he commanded, and the two went out and down the hall to have their discussion.
Marc turned back to face the freezer room. Aida was a tableau of prepared violence. Her hand had even drifted down to her hip, where her pistol would have been. She didn’t show any signs of relaxing as she watched the other vampire making her way around the room, gently touching each body in various places. The girl walked with strength but her movements contained a kind of hesitation, and Marc decided that Aida was in no real danger.
He crossed back to the table Aida was standing. Flush with anger, he had made up his mind. Instantly he whipped down the sheet to reveal the upper half of the body. Lying underneath, as though in a peaceful rest, was his Etelvina. Pale and wan, and nude.
Marc felt his anger building once again. Grief swelled and he could feel his body trembling, he stopped it. The girl lying on the slab before him was so young, and looked so frail. Between her breasts and below her ribs there were holes in her flesh, puncture wounds from whatever her killer had used. He hadn’t even looked at the crime scene yet, or picked Aida’s brain for information of what the detectives were doing. He knew he had to do that, but when he had got to the hotel and she had told him what had happened he had insisted on coming out here, to see the body.
“Who was she?” It was the teen vampire. She had come around to the other side of the table and was touching the wounds in his sister’s chest.
“My sister,” he replied soberly.
The girl lifted her hand to touch the nose then and asked another question. “Was she mortal?”
“She was human, a nineteen year old girl.” He looked up into the face of the young looking creature. It was impossible to tell her true age but the looked no older than the girl on the table. “How old were you?” he asked.
A deeply personal question, Marc was not surprised by the flare of irritation he saw in the girl’s eyes before she answered.
“Fifteen,” she said. “Just six months ago.”
Noting the political need to reciprocate Marc replied with his own age at death, twenty-five. Of course that had been much longer than six months ago. He had watched his baby sister grow into child hood and pass into the middle years of adolescence. He had known that one day he would have to watch her buried, but had been hoping it would not be too soon. In the end though, a young death was a hazard of her lifestyle. A lifestyle no one would have chosen for her, least of all herself or her brother.
"That's surprisingly young," Marc commented absently. "Why..." he trailed off in his distraction.
"It was my choice," the girl replied.
"Why would anyone want choose...?" Aida began. "I mean, why would a child... a teenager...?"
Marc laughed. "Haven't you ever wanted to be immortal, Aida?" he asked. "Or invincible, or irresistible to men?" He gazed down at his sister in sadness. "Or strong enough to protect yourself from this?"
Aida didn't have a response to that.
"Who did it?" the girl asked.
"I don't know," Marc answered, his irritability and anger flooding back to him suddenly. "Why are you here?" he growled.
The teen vampire glared at him. Then she sighed. "I killed them," she said, pointing to the other bodies.
Marc grunted his acknowledgment and covered his sister back up. Aida though looked shocked. She gaped at the three other corpses, covered in their white sheets, then turned back to the tall skinny child who claimed to have murdered them.
"What," she said, "All of them?"

Chapter 2

The alley was a mess. Blood was everywhere. The beaten man lay on his side, whimpering. Whether from his injuries or what he had seen, Lisa didn't know. She was turning slowly in a circle, fingering the knife she had taken from 'freckles.' It was a spring assisted carbon fiber thing, covered in blood. Slowly Lisa came to a decision about how to deal with the mess.

Moving swiftly to each body, slicing the ragged cuts where her fangs had been. Three of the attackers were dead. Their bodies drained, slashes and bite markes all over. One was still breathing, unconscious, slumped against a wall where she had thrown him.

Once the cuts were made she pulled a cell phone protruding from one of the dead men's pockets. It was an old flip, poor condition. Lisa dialed 911 and left the phone open next to the whimpering victim. Then she ran.

Vampires distinguished their supernatural abilities into 5 categories. One category was that of Natural Enhancement. The superhuman strength, smell, sight, hearing, speed, all of these things were a normal function of the vampiric condition. They stemmed from predatory necessity and the disassociation of the body from the natural order of reality. In simple terms a vampire could move faster than a human because he thought he could and should, and for no other reason since the vampire's muscles did not function in any case.

Thus it was that when Lisa ran she didn't flit in a blur through the dark streets. Rather she moved at a more human pace, still fast, faster than most, but nothing special. This was weakness, she thought. I need to be faster, people are looking at me and they will remember the girl covered in blood.

She stopped in a side street to tend to a twisted ankle and lament the foolishness of running in such high heels. The ankle reset itself and she continued with her foolishness.

She arrived home at the small semi-detached house Heidi kept. The darkness and the hour concealed her from the neighbors as the entered. She went straight to her room in the basement and began quickly stripping her bloody clothes and throwing them on the carpeted floor in a pile. She then went into the basement bathroom, turned on the shower and let her hair out of its ponytail.

As the water ran Lisa caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. A slim blond girl. Naked. Blood caked on her face and neck, down to her chest. She lifted a hand and began licking the blood off her fingers. It had splattered, in specks, everywhere that wasn't clothed too.

In the mirror, then, there was the thing that the men in the alley must've seen; A fanged terror, strength and bloodlust personified. And it was this reflection that brought the memories on in sharp clarity, ensuring she would never forget. Terror filled her heart and guilt joined with it making her nauseous. She kept licking her hand, the taste bringing the feelings tangibly closer to her heart.
It was a few minutes until her she stopped. Her index and middle finger were clean, only the strange vampire saliva coated her hand. Tears, again some not totally human fluid, rolled down her cheeks as she stepped into the shower. Hot water bathed her body, rinsing all traces of her crime down the drain. This only made her try the harder to remember, the faces of those killed, and not the first or last.
Lisa stayed in the shower for over an hour at least, she wasn't sure exactly, and then went back to her room and lay on the covers of her bed. She lay naked and spread eagle until dawn came and the oppressive heat of the sun's presence in the sky pulled her into slumber.

The officer looked around the hotel room, looked at the mess there. Actually the mess was only on the bed, the rest of the room was neat and tidy, as thought the maid had just been in and instead of leaving a chocolate mint on the pillow had left a dead girl on the bed.
There were forensics guys dancing about, taking pictures and bagging evidence. Another uniform was helping them while two detectives stared at the scene as though it were an interesting tableau from a Shakespearean play.
Officer Aida, however,  just stood in the doorway. She was in shock. She recognized the girl lying on that bed. She'd seen the face on her own night stand. But it wouldn't do to tell the detectives. They didn't need to know who this girl's brother was.
Aida turned and left pretending that she needed some air as she passed the officers at the door. She went down to the lobby and phoned Marc. She got voicemail. Of course, she thought, he's asleep this time of day.
She dialed the house instead and got Maggie. "You've reached Joe's Taxidermy, you stiff 'em we stuff 'em," chirped the younger woman.
"It wasn't funny the first time, its not funny the next ten million," Aida replied. "I need you to go wake up Marc."
There was a pause on the other end. "Uh... Marc's with Andre..." Maggie said, caution in her voice. She knew how much Aida hated sharing Marc with Andre, or anyone for that matter.
Aida suppressed her frustration and jealousy to say, "Go and wake him. He needs to get out to the Wildeforte Hotel on the hill, today if possible. I'll be here." And then she hung up. She didn't want to talk to him while Andre did whatever it was they did in the background.
She went back upstairs to the fifth floor to do her job and wait for Marc. He might not hurry, but that was okay, investigations took time, and he would have no trouble getting into the morgue.

Lisa woke up as the sun set. Part of her longed to see the sunset again. Most of the stories she'd heard about vampires suggested that they longed for sunrise, but Lisa had always found sunrises boring. A sunset suggested a new adventure, some party you were going to or a date or quest; forbidden excitement at the expense of your parents. Sunrise suggested you were up too early and should go to bed.
It was a Sunday. It was one of the good Sunday too. Every other week Heidi took her to see her family. She couldn't talk to them of course, officially Lisa was dead, and it may have disturbed her parents to learn that their daughter was still walking in spite of this infirmity.
Still she lay in bed. The prospect of watching her brother and parents through a window was as nothing compared to the memory of last night.
She'd had accidents before, six months of feeding it was hard not to. Heidi taught her ways to prevent it. Never feed from the neck, or any other major artery. Be as gentle as possible while handling a living human. Don't piss someone off if you can't control their mind. These were her rules.
But the neck was the most obvious and easiest place to drink from, instinct screamed for it. Which was strange since the carotid artery provided much more blood than was necessary in seconds. Not to mention Lisa barely knew her own strength now. She was used to being a weakling fifteen year old, now she could put dents in steel with her head. As for controlling the human mind, she was still very inexperienced. She needed physical or eye contact just to get inside someone's head, and once there it was difficult not to get distracted by the other persons thought and feelings.
So, accidents had happened, and now the body count was up to five. And Lisa lay in bed.

Chapter 1

A bass track rattled through the air, making it impossible for anyone to hear even the person standing next to them. Nonetheless, amongst the crush of dancing, drunken, sweaty people a dozen conversations were being had; shouted from ear to ear and signed in wild gestures. This was the Ressaince. A club that catered to an older crowd, late twenties, early thirties. People put on their finest clothes, or their sexiest, and came out to party and draw in the opposite sex. And on the sidelines watched a predator. 
Lisa sighed and took another sip of her drink. She couldn't remember what it was called, something with rum in it. Or vodka. She hadn't had either 'before' and now they both tasted like orange juice past its expiry date. She was standing at the bar, ignoring the crowd of people all clamoring for more drinks.
She was a young looking girl, though she'd managed to pass for nineteen at the door with some help from Heidi. Her height had helped with that, she was six feet tall and been for the past two years. At that moment she was dressed in a loose fitting black top and tight dark jeans. Heidi had insisted on the stiletto boots though. Black leather and black top made her look marginally dangerous but combined with the long blond ponytail she looked dangerously attractive. Despite that no one, excepting the bartender, had bothered to talk to Lisa all night.
There was, then, a glimpse of Heidi across the dance floor. A flash of blond hair and golden dress. They made an interesting pair to see when they came in. One bright and glowing with energy, the other muted and withdrawn. 
Heidi was dancing with two guys at the same time. She had left Lisa to do her own hunting, which left the younger of the girls feeling alone and annoyed. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence but she felt that, having been dragged out to the club in the first place, she should be given a bit more attention from the person who did the dragging. 
The two men were completely different in their demeanor of course. One was rough and aggressive, he wore a designer t-shirt which was tight against his large and carefully sculpted muscles. The other was of a smaller build and wore dress clothes, carefully and minimally accessorized to give him an appearance of class. 
Lisa knew from experience which one Heidi would choose. She would take home the classy one tonight, and give 'muscles' her number so they could meet up another time. This was done because she had no interest in 'classy' other than what his body could offer. Where as the other would be tested to see if there was more substance to his personality. 
It was at quarter to one, when Lisa was on her fifth cocktail (she drank them fast to avoid the horrid flavor), that Heidi came back to the bar and demanded Lisa go to the restroom with her. They skirted the attendant and arrived inside the same stall, each standing on either side of the toilet. The noise from the floor was muted in here and Lisa was amazed at how well she could hear the two other occupants of the room, their hearts and their breathing.
"You're not even trying," Heidi whispered. Lisa had been expecting this since she had been abandoned. "I can see you're hungry, pick a guy and just call to him, instead of standing there like...like... a wall-flower." It was a lame finish but Heidi wasn't best known for her oratory. 
Lisa looked down at her Master and was confronted with an abundant amount of what she was known for. Heidi's ample bosom had been a major tool in getting the teen-aged looking Lisa into the Ressaince in the first place.
"I can't call," Lisa began, rolling her eyes at the displayed cleavage. "I'm no good at it, you know that. And I don't want any of these guys. I'd rather buy something."
"Buy something?" Heidi's indignation almost caused her to shout the words. As it was Lisa was pretty sure the rest of the room heard it. 
"You're not one of these dregs," Heidi continued, quieter this time. "Ahem, losers. You don't pay for what you need, you take it. You hunt, you choose, and you make them fall in love with you so they don't even see it coming."
Lisa fidgeted uncomfortably. Heidi was adamant that she learn the art of seduction, but every attempt or even mention made her stomach turn awkwardly. It was the best way to hunt, she had to admit, but it left her feeling cold, dead, and manipulative. 
"Do it, or go home," said Heidi. "Starving yourself may teach you something I can't." And with that the older vampire left the restroom, washing her hands on the way out and tipping the attendant handsomely.

Lisa sat down on the toilet and locked the door to the stall. Her mind buzzed with nerves and shame. And hunger. 
Not normal hunger, the kind of stomach rumbling that humans feel as acid overflows and muscles get restless. It was an empty feeling in her heart, her veins and arteries. Her body longed to feed and fill itself with energy. Not a lot. Just a little... just a little...
But no, she couldn't do it this way. She'd find an animal or buy something from a blood dealer. She knew they were out there, though Heidi had never taken her to one. The other girl filled her fridge and emergency stores with animal blood from slaughter houses, human being expensive to procure in a usable manner.
Eventually Lisa did as her Master had said and headed home. There was no point in moping around. The streets were crowded downtown, throngs of youths, and people of all ages really, wandered about seeking out the next thrill, or else headed home.
Heidi's, and coincidentally Lisa's, home was a forty minute walk from the club. Lisa normally would have taken the bus, but today she wanted to walk. No, tonight she wanted to walk. The sun being down should have been a clue to that, but to Lisa "today" would not become "tonight" no matter how many daylight hours she spent sleeping in her basement bedroom. 
The alleys being quieter she decided to take a few shortcuts. This turned out to be a mistake. Many things take place in alleyways at night. And although Lisa knew this fact she had never before been confronted with it, nor did she know what kinds of things.
Even as she rounded the corner Lisa could hear strange human sounds emanating. Her mind on her non-functioning stomach she ignored them. The alley was dingy and smelled of urine and garbage. Dumpsters lined the walls and someone had parked in the centre, blocking the way to anyone who wasn't walking. 
It wasn't until she had almost walked into them that she noticed the group of toughs, kicking and beating someone lying on the ground. 
At first Lisa stopped. Then the three men turned to face her, having heard the click of her boots on the ground. They were all young, in their 20s, white, and very big. The man on the ground wasn't moving as one of his attackers, a tall freckled man, stepped towards Lisa and smiled menacingly.
"Fuck off!" he said. "You didn't see anything!"
It was truly a lifetime ago, the days that Lisa would have run screaming from that place. But she was the new Lisa, a creature of darkness, in a sense, more foul than any of those men. Those boys. 
Lisa took a step toward 'freckles.'
"Oh, please, girl," he said. "You don't want to play with us."
Lisa took another step forward.
"Well all right then."
Lisa swung a fist. It was the first punch she had ever thrown. Had it connected it would easily have landed the recipient in the hospital for a good week. Well, a bad week really. Unfortunately it did not connect.
'Freckles' laughed as he stepped aside and grabbed her arm. Twisting he forced her to the ground and pressed a knife to her throat.
"Now don't move," he said, breathing into her face.


The alley was dark, a fire escape blocked the light from the stars and somehow no streetlights were close enough to illuminate the interior. It was a good move to duck inside.
Rafe ran the distance to the bottom of the fire escape and leaped onto the bottom rungs. He would have liked to fly but that would mean taking off his jacket to let his wings out, and frankly he was rather fond of the brown leather coat.
The loud pounding of footsteps sounded behind him as he scrambled onto the lowest platform. Cold metal froze his fingers as he brought his knees under him with his considerable strength, made even more so at the adrenaline rush upon hearing his pursuers enter the alley.
The pair below paused only momentarily before climbing after their quarry. Being weaker they could not climb onto the metal platform as quickly, but they managed all the same. They were an odd pair. One pale, one dark, both dressed in long black overcoats, under which they wore pinstriped suits.
Presently one of them, the paler, brandished a stick, a wand. With the murmur of a few words and a flick of the wrist he sent a white hot ball of flame upwards.
Rafe ducked aside as the fireball shot past. He kept climbing, running up the steps with as much speed as he could muster. It was a full five stories to the top, not counting the first which had been traversed by jumping. By the time he made it to the top he had dodged two more fireballs and was thoroughly out of breath. 
Gasping for air he hauled himself onto the roof of the building. Tar covered by pebbles, gravel met him crawling over lip wall. He then stood up and became outlined in the glow of the city's light. Rafe was small, or compact. He barely scratched five foot six. The leather was faded and his hair short and dark like his skin. On his feet he wore, as always, his steel capped leather boots. In the dim light of his surroundings he had the look of a teen runaway. 
But of course it was mostly an illusion. Raphael was a Goblin, a faerie. His human countenance was glamour, and the only thing true about the way he looked were his clothes.
Rafe realized he had a moment to think while his pursuers caught up. There was no way off the roof that he could see. Fighting was the best option, it was the option he would normally have chosen if not for the sight of the pinstriped uniforms. He squared his shoulders and faced the place where he'd mounted the roof. A plastic knife appeared in his hand and at a word became a broadsword. The goblin stood ready to face his adversaries.
The first of the two came vaulting over the edge landing on his feet, wand raised. He paused, taking in Rafe's stance and newly acquired weapon. With a flourish the wand vanished and was replaced with a similar sword. 
Rafe parried the first blow easily, having practiced fencing most of his life. Instead of a counter swing though he brought up his fist in a swift and precise motion, knocking his foe to the ground, wand returned and clattering away from his hand. There was just enough time, having downed his first opponent, to turn and see the second, the darker of the two, hurl a new spell.
Magic. It was powerful stuff. Channelling the will of the soul to alter the course and flow of reality. Reality, of course resisted this manipulation, which is why not everyone who can read a spell book can curse their enemies with leprosy. Humans were powerful in the ways of magic, those with the will, the Key energy, to make it work. Fey of course had their own magic, older and presiding from another realm. Thus, a well educated Faerie knew precisely how to turn certain elements of unfriendly magic to his will.
Lightning coursed from the ring on the wizard's finger. Pain shot through every fiber and nerve in Rafe's body, but through it all he concentrated on his ancestral affinity. He pushed and the electricity gave unto him. The swirling lightning ceased its cascade and became a ball of energy, sitting in the Faeries hands, ready, waiting.
The wizard was disturbed by this, a frown of confusion creasing his brow. His companion rose, recovered his wand and came to join the stand off.
In light of the moment Rafe dropped his glamour. Where he had appeared Latino and human, he now look gray and evil. His eyes were blood red, his teeth sharp and long like the fangs of a wolf, and his skin was a dry pale gray. He watched the hatred form on the wizards' faces at the sight of his true form and he shrugged off his favorite jacket. He was going to miss it, but two on one wasn't going well and there was one final option left open to him. 
Finally the pale wizard spoke. "The major wants to speak with you," he said. "You needn't make it difficult."
A smile tickled his lips as Rafe replied, "I'm a difficult guy."
He released the lightning, ran and leaped off the edge of the building. There was a rush of air and he tore his t-shirt off, letting his wings free. 
Unfurled as he fell were two gigantic bat wings. Huge gray and leathery, they caught the air and had him gliding through the night. They were barely capable of allowing him flight but as he flapped and turned into the breeze he began to gain altitude. 
Fireballs screamed after him, searing the air and in an ordained misfortune one punched a hole in his right wing. Crippled Rafe fell. Plummeting four stories into the street, just remembering his glamour as he hit the ground and blacked out.

Bella can Bite Me

What the hell happened to Buffy? Back in the 90s TV and movies were full of cool kick-ass women warriors. Each piece with a well done aspect of drama and humor. Now I look at things like the new Nikita, True Blood, and others and I wonder when did we stop doing this well. Sure Nikita kicks butt and Sookie hangs with vamps, but its not believable. When Lucy Lawless threw a chakram or swung a sword I could pretend to buy it for an hour at a time. But when Milla Jovovich says a one-liner flips through the air and blows of the head off a zombie, sure its cool, but do I believe in Alice? Hell no! I just wish she'd shut up and get to the point.
In no other genre does this disappoint me so as Sci-fi. Speculative fiction was always about pushing boundaries and making you think about your life and your world in a different light. These days it seems its a silly way to sell garbage stories Hollywood has no more use for. 
I love vampires. As a medium, as villains, as a role-playing game. They make great supernatural monsters for gothic horror, romance, action, just about anything; vampire have been adapted to be everything. But the current selection of fiction regarding vamps is weak. Not for how they treat the vampires, but rather for how they treat women, story-telling, and the art of literature in general. 
In short I am dissatisfied with the current aspects of the female lead in fiction, both visual and written. I am dissatisfies with modern vampire stories. I hope to be able to change that in the future with an influx of my own work into the world and I urge others to do the same.

Brand Spankin New!

Well its the first post. I have 0 followers. A person of lesser ego might question the point of even writing this given the slim likely-hood of anyone ever reading it. But since that's a factor that applies to just about anything anyone ever writes it seems a waste for me not to bother.
In a sense this blog is meant to strengthen my own writing skill and prevent me from getting stale and bored with my ideas. If other people read and comment and criticize then I instantly have an audience to pander to and will be encouraged to produce something, if not of value, then at least of interest.
At this point I think it advisable to write a little about myself and what the hell makes me such a huge screaming deal.Tell the truth, not much. I'm a nerd from T.O. and at the present moment sit in a home that is not mine, in a pair of pajamas that don't fit. Infer what you will, it was the gerbil's idea. As you can probably tell from the punctuation and prose, I consider myself more a literary nerd than a science nerd, with the Star Trek and the computers and the chemistry and the horrible crimes against nature, glavin! 
It would be best to consider this blog a serial, since I will often be posting narratives and pieces of fiction I have written or found amusing. An example of the former:

I awoke amongst the bodies of my fellow greatswords, the sun in my eyes, blinding me. My body was sore in the places where the elfin blades had stung me and blood, my blood, was caked onto my armour at the joints. In fact I think that every point on my platemail, doublet and face was tainted red with blood, of friend and foe. Needless to say the stench was overpowering and the first thing I did as I rose to my feet was vomit into the open wounds of Klide, a new recruit out of the Brazen Swordsmen. His face and the faces of all the men of the second unit of the Nordland Greatswords stared up at me in a silent moan of agony. Or maybe that's just how I felt at the time.             My name is Dietrich Gottfried; I was a member of the Greatsword regiment of the Province of Nordland of the Holy Empire of Sigmar. That's a pretty convoluted sentence but it covers all the bases. The year was 2520, the year before the great war of Chaos. It was also the year I first encountered these elfin raiders from the west.             The battlefield was littered with bodies from both sides. Although, as I looked around, I could not find any trace of the female warriors I had slain. They had fought with the fervor of a worshiper of Khorn from the distant north. Many men of my unit were struck down around me as we fought. I myself killed three, maybe four, of the half naked women. As the last few moments of the battle leading up to my passing out flashed before my eyes, I became grief stricken. Tears began to flow from my eyes as my heart sank into my stomach.             The bodies before me were, all of them, lifeless and rotting. The crows had already come to pick at the flesh of the dead. I had to keep them from being eaten; I could not allow the memory of these men of Sigmar to be sullied. But I didn't have the strength to bury them all. Looking down at the men of my unit I decided to build a pyre. The first thing I did was collect the bodies. One by one I went through each of them. Pironz, Alf, and Gregory. Salizar , Kent , and Morty. Each of their death wounds was worse than the last, I wept as I pulled away what armour I could, closed their eyes and placed them in a pile a few feet from where they had died. None had taken that shameful step back. When the work was done I found myself making two very disturbing realizations; the first was that I had no fire with which to burn the bodies, and the second was that several of my men were missing. I had not the energy to solve both of these problems so I went in search of a flame.             After an hour of searching I found the lonely artillery train. The gunners long since abandoning their posts or else dead, though there were no bodies. The torches used for firing the cannons still burned and were staked into the ground. In fact I noted a number of horses used to move the cannons off in the edge of the field, loitering in the trees that bordered it. The men had gone, but nothing else seemed amiss. If they had fled surely they would have had the sense to go for their horses, riders or not.             I took the torch back to the pile of rotting and carrion flecked corpses. This was all that remained of the greatest unit of swordsmen to come out of Nordland. I said a prayer, commending their souls to Sigmar and Ulric in the hopes that they would see fit to return these men to fight along side the Emperor's holy armies in the End of Times. Then, in the face of the setting sun, I lit the Pyre and stood back.             I fell asleep that night choking on the fumes of my former comrades in arms.   We had been mustered in the town of Ferraville, just one week prior to the battle. It was a small backward village, used to the militarised nature of the north. Despite its distance from the coast it had been destroyed several times by invading marauders. We were sent there by the Elector Count in defence of a prophesied assault by the Norsii. On the first night the Greatswords had enjoyed an invitation to General Otto Von Richter's table. He had appropriated the Mayor's manor, a humble building built of wood and stone, but it suited the General's purposes.             Geoffery, Karl and I had entered the dining hall with the intention of sitting as far away from the nobility as possible. We were each born of farmers and, though we had come far in the noble traditions of the Empire military and wore our dress uniforms with pride, we were still peasants at heart. We sat far from the head of the table and found ourselves joined by some of the Reiksguard knights, traveling with General Von Richter as a personal favour from Kurt Helborg. Three of them sat down opposite us, their armour gone and replaced by rich linens and leathers. Even in the clothes of rich merchants they had the bearing of soldiers and killers.             Karl, ever the optimist, had smiled at them and nodded to them in greeting. "Hail to the knights of Karl Franz," he said.             The smallest of the three, a small man by no other means, answered first. "And the same to you brave warrior," he said. "My name is Cedric Geldenhoff, this is Claude Regdar on my right, and Aaron Von Hampton on my left." Each knight nodded, unsmiling to Karl.             "I have the honour of sharing the Emperor's name, Karl Saninguous, to my right is Dietrich Gottfried and to my left Geoffery Galdhielm," said Karl.             Sir Cedric smiled at Karl's enthusiasm. The six of us shared the mayor's wine and talked into the night. They were brave humourless men, having seen battle again and again. The houses of Geldenhoff and Regdar were not even of noble origin, the two knights having once been part of the Reikland Halberdiers, eventually knighted upon the personal recommendation of Kurt Helborg. They shared with us the tale of how our general obtained such high standing with both the Elector Counts and the Emperor.             As we returned to the barracks that evening, the three of us passing a wine skin between us, both Geoffery and I thanked Karl. "We would never have had the brazen to speak like that to the Emperor's personal guard," Geoffery said.             "Everyone like to have their praises sung," said Karl. Then he added in darker tones, "Beware of those who speak highly of you."             I tossed the skin to Geoffery who nearly dropped it in the dirt of the road. "Soldiers have no fear of praises," I said. "Those who wish us ill must attack with a sword, not words."             "Yes," Karl shouted. "And with a sword we will defeat all who wish us ill."             With that note Geoffery vomited into a ditch, and nearly fell in for his troubles. We laughed, and then blacked out. Somehow we made it back, but I cannot remember how.

Damn, that was long! Not too boring I hope, though. Its an adapted piece of fan-fiction and a story that, frankly has no point or ending. And now the latter:

My name is Rachel.I knew what was coming. I knew.I'd seen it in Jake's eyes.And you know what? I was scared.I never thought I would be. Cassie thinks I'mfearless. Marco thinks I'm reckless. Tobias . . .well, Tobias loves me.I guess they all do, in different ways. Jake,too. But Jake had to do the right thing.I felt sorry for him, you know? He's carried theweight so long. He's made hard decisions. Noneas hard as this maybe. I didn't blame him, noteven for a minute.But I was scared.

I guess no one wants to die. I guess everyone
is scared when the time comes.
We were so close. We were right there, right at
the finish line, I'd already survived so many times
when I shouldn't have. It seemed unfair. To come
this far, get this close . . .
Jake gave me the job because he knew that
only I could do it. Would do it. Ax might have, sure,
but he was needed for his skills. Me, I'm not the
computer genius. I'm the one you send when you
need someone to be crazy, to do the hard thing.
I don't know whether I'm proud of that or not.
I was Jake's insurance policy. He thought
maybe he wouldn't have to use me. He hoped,
anyway. But down deep he knew, and I knew, and
we both hid the truth from the others because
Cassie couldn't let Jake make that decision, and
Tobias couldn't let me, and those two, by loving
us, would have screwed everything up.
It was a war, after all. A war we had to win.
We hadn't asked the Yeerks to come to Earth.
They made that call on their own. They're a parasitic
species, not very big or impressive to look
at, just these snail-like things that can enter your
head through your ear. They have a capacity to
anesthetize the inner ear enough to allow them to
burrow through the soft tissue. It still hurts but
not as much as it should.
They dig their way straight to your brain and

then flatten themselves out, spread themselvesdown into the crevices, tie directly into yoursynapses. They take control. Absolute control.They read your thoughts, they sense youremotions. What your eyes see, they see. Whatyour tongue tastes, they taste. If your hand moves,it's because they moved it. If you speak, it is theYeerk who has spoken through you, made youinto a ventriloquist's dummy.Over the course of years they spread like avirus. Invisible. Undetectable.They are your teacher, your pastor, your bestfriend. They are the police officer, the TV newsman,the soldier. Anyone.Jake's parents had recently been taken; theywere human-Controllers — people controlled byYeerks.Jake's brother Tom, my cousin, had been aController for a long time. He was a powerfulYeerk. Jake still cared for him, still hoped somehowhe could be saved.Jake had sent me away with Tom.I understood. I approved. If Jake hadn't sentme I'd have gone anyway.Still, though, I was scared.I had power myself. We all did. The strange,unsettling power to absorb DNA from any livingcreature, to then alter our physical bodies to becomethat creature

I've been a whole zoo, you know. Everything
from a fly to an elephant. Bat. Owl. I've flown,
way up in the sky with eagle wings. I've flown up
there with Tobias. Way up in the clouds. If there's
something better than that, well, I never found it.
It's not magic. Just technology. Of course technology
always seems like magic at first. Haul a
tenth-century knight into the modern age and
show him your cell phone or your TV or your computer
or your car. Magic.
This technology came from the Andalites. The
Andalites are enemies of the Yeerks, and I guess
allies of ours, though right at the moment they
were more likely to annihilate Earth than the
Yeerks were. You know the old saying, "With
friends like these, who needs enemies?"
Anyway, it began with a chance meeting. An
Andalite prince named Elfangor crashed his
shot-up fighter in our path. Coincidence? No,
history. And a helping hand from the Ellimist
who of course never lends a helping hand.
Elfangor died, but not before he told us what
was happening and gave us the morphing technology.
I've been a rat. A dolphin . . . oh, man, do
they have fun. That rush when you're zooming
straight up through the water, when you see the
ripply surface of the sea, when you blow through

that barrier and soar through the air. . . And
then, splash! And do it all over again.
So, anyway, we decided we had to try and
stop the Yeerks. Jake and Tobias and Cassie and
Marco and Ax, who is Elfangor's little brother,
and me. We lived this secret life. We fought and
mostly lost, but we survived. We frustrated the
Yeerks. We ruined Visser Three's life, though he
still managed to be promoted to Visser One.
Maybe we did too good a job frustrating the
visser. The Yeerks grew tired of infiltration. Visser
One had been craving open war. And when we
blew up their ground-based Yeerk pool, the source
of their food, the center of their lives, it was
gloves off.
So much the better as far as I was concerned.
The time had come to settle things.
The Yeerks obliterated our town to create a
dead zone around their construction of a new
Yeerk pool. They were in a hurry. Without a functioning
pool they were getting hungry.
But there was a worm gnawing at the Yeerk
race. They had acquired morphing technology
themselves — in part because of what Jake
thought was Cassie's betrayal.
Cassie sees further than I do. Further than
any of us. She sees deep. The girl cannot dress or
accessorize to save her life, she's a girl who

wears manure-stained Wal-Mart jeans for cryingout loud, but Cassie sees connections and possibilitiesthat others don't.She let Tom take the morphing cube. And thatchanged everything. Some Yeerks began to see away out of their parasitic lives. The hunger-crazedTaxxons — a race held captive by the Yeerks —began to dream of a life without their Yeerk overlords.A revolution was brewing.At the same time, the Andalite fleet was closingin, ready to obliterate Earth as the only way tostop the Yeerk infestation. They had watched theYeerks concentrate their forces on Earth. Theywere ready to bring down the curtain: ObliterateEarth and the Yeerk Empire would be gutted.Too bad about those creatures who got in theway. What were they called? Oh yeah, humans.But Tom betrayed his visser, betrayed theYeerk race. Not for the sake of poor old humanity,but for his own ambition. He would escape withthe morphing cube and with a hard core of faithfulYeerk supporters. He would abandon the Yeerkpeople to the Andalite vengeance, destroy thehated Animorphs, and if H. sapiens was annihilated,too, well . . .That's where Jake saw his chance. Tom'sYeerk is smart. Jake is smarter.Now Jake and the others had control of the

Yeerk Pool ship. Tom had control of the visser's
own personal Blade ship.
Tom — the Yeerk in Tom's head — was closing
in for his final act of betrayal: He would kill
his master, Visser One, and doom his fellow
Yeerks. He thought we were already dead.
Surprise, Tom.
My favorite morph was the grizzly bear. Seven
feet tall standing erect. You cannot imagine the
power, especially when united with human intelligence
and knowledge. Compared to my grizzly
morph a human being is like something made
out of glued-together Popsicle sticks.
How many times have I felt that change as
muscle piles on muscle, as the thick brown fur
covers me, as the rail spike claws grow from my
fingers?
The grizzly bear and I had been through a lot
together.
I would go to grizzly to kill Tom.

 The first chapter of the last book in K.A. Applgate's series Animorphs. Its one of my favorite book series to this day. You can check out all of them  here: http://animorphsforum.com/ebooks/
Well, I think that's it... Yeah that's it. Next time I'll discuss why UofT freshmen(women) are not allowed in my bed.