by Holly Evans
My last option was the doorway under the stairs. It remained firmly stuck in place when I yanked back on the handle. I kicked it in frustration; it moved inwards, just an inch. I gave it another good kick and it moved a little more. I soon took out all of my anger on the door. Everything that had gone wrong was vented onto the splintering wood. Finally, it gave. I stepped through and slowly walked down the narrow twisting stairs to find a well-lit room with bare stone walls and a dank concrete floor.
It smelled of damp earth and death. I curled my lip and wrinkled my nose; the sooner I could get in and out the better. I ran my fingers over the bottle the elf had given me, assuring myself that it was still present. I mentally kicked myself when I remembered that I needed the thief’s blood, too. A scuffling of footsteps and creaking wood above me gave me hope that perhaps I could retrieve some of his blood after all. I murmured a thanks to the gods for some small fortune. I firmly believed they were malevolent assholes who saw us mere mortals as nothing more than pawns and toys, but I tried to thank them on the odd times things went right. Just in case there was more at stake than I realised.
I pressed myself into a small dip in the wall, hoping to hide in the shadows and catch the elf by surprise. My muscles tensed. I slipped a throwing knife into my hand and waited. The upstairs clearly wasn’t lived in; there was no reason for him to hang around up there. Time crawled by, my breathing echoing in my ears, until, finally, footsteps came down the stairs.
They were heavier and more shuffling than I’d expected. It took me a moment to realise there was more than one set. I was trapped in the narrow passage. I couldn’t take on a group of them. A quick glance further down the hall told me I had nowhere to go. I had to rely on stealth and speed. I cursed under my breath; I’d thanked the gods too soon.
A broad form lurched into sight. Its head almost scraped the high ceiling. Its breath rasped and gurgled. I released a slow breath and threw the knife. It stopped dead in its tracks; the knife had hit home in its throat. It vanished in a puff of heavy smoke. I cursed again under my breath. I didn’t know what they were, but they were magical. I wished for Quin’s magic dispersal powder once more, and the idea of his1 learning alchemy was growing on me.
Two more creatures blocked out the light in the hallway. I caught a brief glimpse of grey-green skin and glassy white eyes. They were some summoned abomination. My instincts kicked in, and I used my throwing knives to take them down as quickly as I could. The hallway was filled with dark smoke that sat deep in my lungs and made me gasp for air. I eventually heard the liquid tones of an elf. His curses were foreign to me, but his exasperated tone was clear in any language.
Pain cut into my thigh through the smoke. I pulled my blade and slashed the area where the pain had come from. A swift kick caught my hip. I stepped away deeper down the hall, trying to get away from the smoke and see what I was up against. The warm trickle of my blood ran down my leg as I waited for some sign of my attacker. I saw a flash of pale hair and took a risk. I stabbed into the area just in front of where I’d seen the hair; the elf howled in pain. The smoke vanished and I could see clearly again. Deep purple blood ran down his pale skin; he bared his sharpened teeth at me and lunged with a manic expression. His eyes were wild, his lips pulled back to their limit. I dodged left at the last second and smashed his face into the hard stone wall.
He slumped, but caught himself before he went down properly. I kicked him hard in the ribs, but he refused to stay down. Words fell from his mouth in quick succession. I recognised the rhythmic flow of an incantation. Grabbing a handful of his hair, I smashed his face back into the wall, stopping his spell before he could finish it. He groaned; blood ran through his hair and dripped from his eyebrows. He shook himself and went to stand once more. I was growing weary of this.
An unnatural snarl came from behind me. I turned and caught sight of a canine-type beast running at me. Its heavily muscled shoulder was level with my hip. Yellow teeth glinted in the light. I threw my final throwing knife at its face, hoping to blind it. The damn thing moved its head at the last second, the knife embedding in its shoulder. It didn’t even notice.
I braced myself, feeling like a bullfighter. It launched itself at me, powerful hindquarters sank down and propelled it towards me. Giant paws complete with razor-sharp claws were coming directly for my head. I ducked and stepped away just before I plunged my knife deep into its haunch. It yelped and fell to the ground. It scrambled to right itself. I kicked its injured haunch, bringing it to yelp and snarl. It snapped at my legs; I felt its warm breath against my calf where it missed by millimetres.
It managed to stand once more and lunged at me. I took the risk and jumped over its great head, causing it to snap at thin air. The elf had begun chanting again. I sank low and slashed the beast’s tendons, causing its hind legs to collapse under it. It snapped and snarled, but I plunged my knife deep into its stomach and dragged it up through the thin layer of muscle until I hit the bottom of its sternum. It continued to whine and snarl as its innards fell out onto the floor.
I turned my attention back to the elf, who had pressed himself against the wall, half standing, half slouching. His lips were moving quickly, although I couldn’t make out the words over my own pounding heart. His eyes met mine just before I dragged his head back and slit his throat. I cleaned my knife on his shirt and allowed his body to drop to the ground just as his beast gurgled its final breath.[ This could be expanded by at least 2-300%. I’d essentiallly just go paragraph by paragraph and make each of them longer. It has the sensation of a digest.]
10.
I rummaged through my pockets trying to remember where I’d left my spare empty vial. I finally found it and placed it under the elf’s throat. I didn’t know how much would be required. I tried to keep the vile fluid off my hands; I already felt as though I’d need to scrub myself for a week. The cut on my leg had stopped bleeding. Fortunately, the wretched elf had only nicked the surface. The blood started to overflow the vial and brought me back to the present moment.
I cringed as I put the stopper in and wiped my hands on the elf’s shirt. He was dead, he wouldn’t mind. The alchemist hadn’t specified whether the thief had to be alive or dead. I couldn’t help but hope that he’d owe me a favour for killing his thief. The hallway extended down quite some way until I finally emerged in the elf’s living quarters. It was bare and focused. The old armchair sat in front of a large heavy wooden desk that was piled high with leather-bound books. Varying pots and vials of what looked like blood sat about, some with ink pens lying next to them.
I curled my lip. Blood magic was such a filthy deplorable business. I scooted around the dirty bed with the thin grey sheets and old wool blankets and tried to look for where the recipe might be. A faint red light came from a crack in the far wall. I approached it with caution; I’d already faced down enough abominations for one day, and I still had the alchemist to deal with. A warmth crept through the wall around the light; that alone made me suspicious. Magic wasn’t safe, and I had no intentions of falling into some demon-ridden trap. [ More description]
A quick look around the room told me that the crack was my best bet. The room was filled with jugs of rotting intestines and bowls of congealed blood. There was no room for a precious recipe in amidst the death and filth.
I dug my fingers into the well-worn dips and divots around the crack and pulled. The stone came away too easily and caused me to take a few surprised steps backwards. I came close to falling into one of the rickety tables covered in pots and quills. The scroll was almost literally a neon sign within the hole I’d just made in the wall. It came complete with red glow and gold lettering. Someone really needed to tell the elves to be a little more subtle. A small blue bowl sat just inside the opening in front of the scroll. Next to it was a ceramic pot. I pulled out the scrap of paper and peered at it, hoping it would tell me what to do.
The alchemist seemed to know what I was supposed to expect; he’d even doodled a little diagram
for me. I could feel the condescension and passive-aggression through the sharp pen strokes.
With some difficulty, I managed to pour the breath into the ceramic pot, although given it was breath and thus air, it was hard to tell how much actually went into the pot. The blood was far easier and trickled into the bowl without any problems. I didn’t know what I expected but relief settled over me when the red glow became a soft forest green.[ Expand on this process] I reached in and brushed my fingertips over it. I didn’t feel any pain, so I grabbed it and set about finding something to transport it in. I was one step closer to getting Quin back.[ Expand on her emotional state]
I stuffed the scroll into a canvas bag I found buried under some dried herbs and young leather. I couldn’t have humans seeing the damn thing glowing, after all. With that, I ran out of the house. I was ready to be done with the entire ordeal.
The lékárna did a good trade; people were queued up to the door. I was given some dark looks when I stood to the side, just outside of the black discreet zone marked on the floor. I ignored them and tried to be patient while the quiet guy handed over various vitamins and concoctions. He managed to pause between customers to give me a broad smile and wave me through to the back.
The cool feeling of old magic wrapped around me once more. A small knot of dread formed in my stomach as I subconsciously prepared to meet more abominations. I felt vulnerable without Quin’s magical aids, and that bothered me more than I’d ever admit.
The alchemist was at a bench on the far side of the room, with deep copper-coloured goggles over his eyes and an intense expression of concentration on his face. I stood and watched as his long fingers moved in graceful motions, carefully pouring a thin blue liquid into a delicate glass tube. His pale pink lips were pressed tightly together. A single strand of pale hair fell free and slipped down to frame his face. After a few moments of what appeared to be painstaking mixing, he had a green gloop bubbling away over a bright yellow flame. I concluded that I could watch him work for hours at a time.
He looked up at me. “It’s quite rude to stand and watch, you could at least have offered to help.”
I raised an eyebrow and gave him a dark look as I pulled out his scroll. The moment was shattered. I reminded myself that he was an elf, and any foolish thoughts I may have entertained would never go anywhere.
A grin spread across his face, and he put everything down. “Good girl.”
I curled my lip at him; no one said that to me. At least not twice. He ignored my glares and took the scroll from me, his fingers roaming over mine once more.
“What’s the recipe for, exactly?” I asked as innocently as I could muster.
It was hardly a walk in the park to retrieve; I felt as though I deserved to know what I’d gone through all the trouble for. His face darkened and he turned his back on me with a dismissive shrug. I stalked after him, casting a look down over his back. I was a little disappointed to find he was a little too lean and didn’t have a butt to speak of.
“I went through a lot for that.”
He glanced at the cut on my leg. The blood had stained my jeans and got me a few looks on the tram. “We had a fair deal. You give me the scroll, I tell you what the blood is from. I don’t recall my giving you information being in there. Now if you’d like to offer another sacrifice…”
He leaned close to me; the sweet scent of cherry blossom surrounded me. I could think of a few things I’d sacrifice.
I looked down at my leg and said, “I sacrificed my blood, time, and energy.”
It came out much sharper than I’d intended; I was overcompensating. He laughed softly and placed the scroll away with some reverence. The box clicked shut and somehow darkened in colour. It was quickly hidden in the shadows, and I couldn’t make out the outline of it despite knowing where it sat.
He leaned down and inspected the bubbling gloop before he said, “Pass me that beaker.”
I sighed softly and handed him a glass jar thing.
He pulled down his goggles, glanced at the jar thing and said, “I said the beaker, that is a measuring jug.”
I gave him a dark look and said, “You haven’t told me about the blood.”
He pursed his lips and picked up what was apparently a beaker. The gloop was slowly transferred into the beaker and placed on a rubber mat before he lifted the vial of blood, or what remained of it. A smile slithered across his lips.
“Yes, the blood. It’s really quite remarkable, not that you’d understand.”
I kept my face blank as he looked at me, waiting for a reaction. “There is some human blood in there, but it’s broken and interlinked with something else. You see, that’s the real problem, it never quite became what it was meant to be.”
I crossed my arms and waited. He grinned at me and did a little dance across the open space.
“This was a made creature, do you know what that means? No, of course you don’t. It means, dear girl, that someone spliced together a human and something else.”
He looked at me, his eyes dancing, his cupid bow mouth spread into a delightful smile that threatened to pull me in. He rolled his eyes and placed the vial into a stand alongside a number of other vials.
“I’m wasted on you; your brother would be fascinated by such a revelation. And no, that blood was not your brother’s.”
He turned away from me and huffed. “You’ll need to go and see your priestess. Something of this magnitude, of this intricacy, requires a much higher influence.”
I smiled and said over my shoulder, “You mean a lowly alchemist couldn’t pull it off?”
He didn’t give me the satisfaction of a response. Instead he became absorbed in his work once more and muttered about wasting his time and perfectly good talent. I walked out of his workspace feeling buoyed. Quin hadn’t been turned into some monster, at least not the one I’d met. I was quite looking forward to seeing Elise as well; she was one of the few people who dealt with supernatural affairs that I enjoyed spending time with.
11.
We weren’t quite into tourist season yet. The streets were relatively quiet as I walked down to Újezd with my thumbs tucked in my back pockets. The sun was faintly warm on my skin. My eye was drawn to the large wrought iron gates that framed the entrance to Strahov Park. I gave it half a moment’s consideration and continued on. I couldn’t help but smirk when I glanced across the road at Café Silhouette. Felix and his pack would never forgive me, but it had been worth it. His pack had needed putting in their place for a while; Quin had been too soft on them. [ Damages her likeability]
My chest constricted as I thought of him. I picked up my pace and put my head down, focusing on the task at hand. I barely noticed the bright colours of the flowerbeds as I jogged up the short steps near the funicular. I was in no mood to squeeze onto one of the plastic bench seats and wait for it to make its way up the steep hill. Continuing at a steady jog, I carried on along the old tarmac path into the dark evergreen trees and made my way up towards the top of Petřín Hill.
The nymphs whispered and giggled as I went past the older trees. Their voices tickled the back of my mind and begged me to pause. They teased me with words I couldn’t quite make out. I pushed myself up into an easy lope, my breathing getting more ragged; the hill was longer than I’d remembered. Laughter, human laughter, came from the elegant restaurant halfway up the hill. A white affair with a patio looking down over Lesser Town, I’d meant to take Quin for a meal there for months and never quite got around to it. Happy couples sat out in the fresh spring air, smiles on their faces as waiters in pristine black and white uniforms brought out local foods.
I couldn’t help but feel envious of them. There had been a time when I could have been there with them, part of a happy couple. Memories of Christian pressed into my mind. We would have been married by then. He had to ruin it, though. I’d found him in bed with a pixie, hours after he’d sworn that I was his everything. The pixie had whisked him away to the fairy world a week later, never to
be seen again. A tear trickled down my cheek. I hadn’t even considered a relationship since. Quin kept teasing me about at least finding some fun for a night. My fists clenched. I would get my twin back. I’d protect him. He was all I had.
I paused when I finally reached the top of the hill. It was always something of a disappointment; one of the highest points in the city, and yet it was just an open space with well-worn earth and short grass. Each time, I hoped they had something more with the space. I took a moment to get my breath back; my ribs were aching and tightened with every breath. Petřín Tower emerged on the horizon, a simple metal affair that held some of the best views of the city at the top. I’d spent many hours looking out of the windows, admiring the old city from up there. The elegant slope of the river and the hundreds of spires in their varying forms. It wasn’t perfect, but it was home.
Once my breathing had settled a little, I set off at a brisk walk down the worn tarmac path towards Elise’s church. It had been built on Slav pagan grounds back in the 1100’s. It stood noble and proud in its simplicity. Elise has chosen it due to the power that was woven through it and the fact that most tourists didn’t bother to wander down the path and look at it when there were so many grander churches to admire. The plain terracotta walls with the green copper spires always made me pause and drink it in. There was something imposing and yet peaceful about it. It was a place of power and sanctuary. A guard tower watching over the city. [ Expand description]
I wasn’t really religious; I knew the gods existed, but I wanted nothing to do with them. Yet I couldn’t help but bow my head and try to show a little respect when I walked up the couple of steps to the heavy wooden door. I missed half a beat when the serenity of the place washed over me. I stood in the small entrance way, and allowed my eyes to adjust to the dim light. [ describe]
