Once more Kristoff tore Amelia behind him through the city streets at break neck speed, the winter sun fading behind him. He zig zagged madly through alleys and footpaths like a native, oddly bringing them back to the spot where they had first met. Amelia glanced around uneasily, they were two mortals out and about in Nikolais’s hunting grounds. Wildlife indeed.
“This isn’t a great place to photograph.” She said carefully.
“Pish, It’s perfect, I’ve been working on this neighborhood for weeks. I love the architecture.” Well that explained his appearance at her stake-out that first night. But how was he not dead? What was the saying? - ‘Stupid or just lucky?’
“I know better places…” Amelia started. Kristoff gave her a dismissive glance.
“Eh, but I like this one… Scared?” He asked in a pseudo teasing and almost serious manner.
Amelia buckled down, she’d just have to protect them both. “No,” she shrugged. “Just not as fond of this place.”
“Then why do you come here? To throw cigarettes at unwitting strangers?”
“Memories,” Amelia grunted out.
“Of what?” He pushed.
“My grandmother used to live here when I was a kid,” She lied quickly.
He narrowed his eyes as if suspicious, then nodded his head and seemed to let it go. Moving out from Nikolais’s home they wandered around the streets, Kristoff paused periodically to shoot something, and Amelia followed several steps behind with her hands in her pocket gripping Mona’s dagger tight. He might have been clueless - but she certainly wasn’t.
From what he chose to shoot, he seemed to be intrigued with the balance of grit and beauty the area embodied. Fanciful stonework juxtaposed with dying trees, toys left on steps, vines on brickwork. After about an hour with barely any words spoken, Amelia got annoyed. “Why do you need me for this? You seem fine on your own.”
“I’m glad you asked,” smiled Kristoff. “I need you to show me the rooftops you like so well.”
Amelia narrowed her eyes. “Crawling around on rooftops at night is dangerous.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”
“Come on.” Amelia sighed. “But I hope you are in better shape than you look. Working out in fancy gyms is no preparation for roof jumping.” She strode over into a shadowed nook and turned into a small alley. Then, pulling down the red rusted fire escape, she gestured to it mockingly. Like all fire escapes, the ladder didn’t reach all the way to the ground and terminated in blank air. Amelia crossed her arms challengingly and cocked her head.
Kristoff gave her a wink, and with a quick, lithe motion he jumped and grabbed the bottom rung, then used his momentum to carry his feet up. He flowed up to the top then hopped over. Once on the rooftop he looked down with a smirk.
“You part of the Russian gymnastics team or something?”
“Or something. Are you coming?”
Amelia leapt up and followed just as nimbly, climbing like a spider up the rusted rungs going two bars at a time.
Kristoff moved toward the ledge facing the building across from him and stretched breathing deeply. “Ah.This is more like it. Now, where are the best views?”
Amelia walked to the edge of the roof and jumped onto the next one then turned and mimicked his eye quirk mockingly. He leapt across the span lightly and landed clean as a cat. If Amelia didn’t know better from his claims, she’d think he’d done this frequently. Walking out to the ledge over the street she pointed out the unique 1920’s architectural curls and columns on the face of the opposite building. Kristoff immediately began to photograph.
They stood there quietly a while before Kristoff nodded briskly and said, “Where next?”
The rest of the night was spent scrambling over rooftops as Amelia led him on a maze of jumps and climbs. Eventually she started showing him some of her favorite places, some inner compulsion to impress him with her eye for detail and symmetry.
Suddenly Kristoff halted across from the old church with the gargoyles, at the window that always looked in on a happy home in the darkness. Outside the home, on a tiny iron balcony, two lovers kissed by the light of little tea candles scattered on a little table. A wistful look crossed his face and he raised his camera and snapped. Then he turned to Amelia.
“I think that’s all for tonight.” He said, seeming somehow far away. Amelia shrugged and glanced back at the lovers now sitting and talking intently. The woman’s eyes sparkled in the candles, her face was flush with attraction and her lips parted in a tinkling laugh that skipped across the darkness like a fairy. Her lover was obviously earnestly relating a story as his hands gestured emphatically and he smiled playfully.
Amelia was just as riveted as Kristoff. Was that tableau what her life would have been like if Mona hadn’t died? Would she be with her boyfriend right now drinking cheap wine and making out and making art?
Who said she couldn’t go back?
Amelia shook it off and looked over at Kristoff who seemed to be shaking off the moment as well. What did he see in the candelight?
Amelia stopped herself, Mona had died, she was going to extract vengeance, and maybe by dedicating her life to hunting she’d fulfill Mona’s aspirations and her duties as a Dagda.
“Whatever you say boss.” Amelia shrugged dismissively.
Kristoff grimaced. “Just Kristoff please.”
“Okay, Kristoff please, I work early and am off to bed. Let me show you the way back.”
“I remember, don’t worry.”
“Okay,” Said Amelia in doubtful annoyance. How could she patrol with him around? Edging off, Amelia said, “Well. Bye, then…” and started in the direction they had come until she could no longer see him.
Amelia clambered down a fire escape and then cut across a few random alleys, if Kristoff had intended to follow her he would have quickly become lost. Once she decided she was far enough away, she circled back to her usual perch across from Nikolais’s apartment building. Amelia had made it a point not to show Kristoff this particular spot, though the architecture of Nikolias’s apartment was just as sumptuous as the others he’d shot. He had to have known where the spot was, as it was where she’d been the night they met. But she didn’t want to draw anymore attention to her and him than necessary. They’d already traipsed through and around Nikolais’s hunting ground. No need to have a foreign photographer getting killed for taking pictures of things he shouldn’t.
Amelia settled in for a long night, and shuffled in her coat pocket for her cigarettes. Looking carefully around - and below - her, she lit one and took a long drag with a sigh. She had kinda enjoyed her evening with Kristoff, much to her surprise. But as fun as it was playing safari with a fascinating man now it was time to buckle down and see her task through. Even if tonight wasn’t the night she caught Nikolais, she would not be any less dedicated than Mona’s memory required. Amelia huddled into her coat.
Tomorrow was visit-the-family day, and she still had nothing to show for her efforts, her mother would be unimpressed. But someday, someday soon - she could feel it - she would catch up to that scum-sucking vampire and Mona’s violent death would be avenged.
Chapter 5
Kristoff tucked himself into the grey of a slim alley and watched Amelia come down the apartment stairs. If what she’d told him was true, she’d be going to the bi-yearly meet of the whole Dagda clan. In Brooklyn not the area around Nikolais’s coven.
He smiled ruefully he’d had to bite his tongue when she’d lied to him the last night. Not only did she not hunt well, she couldn’t tell a lie worth any salt. It was easy to see how she didn’t fit in with her bloodthirsty family.
As she moved down the street, Kristoff trailed her with his eyes then pulled out his smart phone. Pushing a single button he put it to his head. “She’s gone to visit her psychopathic kin, I think I’m going to see what her roommate has to say. Jack may be able to give us some perspective.” He listened then nodded and slipped the phone into his pock
et.
Kristoff tugged his burned hat onto his head and strode over to the front of Amelia’s building. He ducked into the doors and frowned. There was no security to stop him, and though the neighborhood was on the up, it could still be dangerous. He shook his head in annoyance, her family bordered on criminal negligence with the way they ignored her and her safety. But then her mother, Ann, was not all that forgiving of what she considered ‘failures’ - Amelia seem to have been one.
He scowled, just because she lacked the need to slaughter other species didn’t make her a dud. He’d seen her art, she was talented. And as to hunting? There was a good chance that with a little help she could be competent if not decent at it. She’d never be great, but she could certainly pass.
Kristoff jogged to the top to Amelia’s door, it had a biohazard sticker on the front. He rolled his eyes and wondered if it had been Jack or Amelia who had put it there. It could have been either from what he was learning. He smirked and gave the door a hard knock. No one answered and Kristoff fought the need to roll his eyes. He banged as hard as possible and a crash came from within. Followed by colorful cursing. “BOLLOCKS! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK! Bothering a man at work.” The door flew open revealing the tall British goth Kristoff loved to torment. “WHAT!” Then Jack suddenly recognized who was at the door, and crossed his arms petulantly. “Mate, I thought you and I had agreed that you wouldn’t bother me at home - and I wouldn’t bother you.”
“Ah, but this isn’t about me,” Kristoff smiled.
Jack narrowed his eyes. “Ya?”
Kristoff pushed his way into the apartment and flung his heavy coat on Jack’s ratty recliner. A fat Maine Coon cat hissed and screeched loudly then darted away deep into the apartment’s reaches.
“What can you tell me about Amelia Dagda?”
*
Saturday was, unfortunately, one of the Dagda family dinners. Everyone was required to attend. Amelia hated it - it was just another excuse for her mother to get on her soap box and harangue the family ‘into action.’ Except her, of course. Amelia was a dud and may as well have been cat food in her mother’s eyes.
But she still had to attend.
Amelia hurried briskly through the cold winter morning air as she went to the tall brownstone she’d grown up in. Like a wave, when she hit the door, the house exuded warmth, the smell of drying herbs, and the scent of cooking food A momentary mirage of homecoming that comforted her. The reality of the inside of the home was less welcoming.
Amelia took off her coat and scarf and hung them on the antique coat tree then braced herself. Everyone upon arrival was expected to present themselves to the leader of the clan. Her mother.
Amelia slipped into the kitchen and her mother looked up sharply from some leek and potato stew.
“I see your vengeance can wait for the day Amelia.” Her mother sneered.
Amelia groaned. It wasn’t that her mother didn’t want Mona avenged, she just didn’t want Amelia to do it. No success could redeem Amelia’s failure of birth in her mother’s eyes. In fact, it was as if her mother didn’t want Amelia in particular to avenge Mona - as if it lowered the valor of the act.
Her mother looked back at the soup dismissively. “You know you aren’t strong enough, I value your loyalty to the clan that you wish to do this” —(no she didn’t)— “but what you do is futile and will only lead to your death as well. And then where will we be? Without a Dagda to continue the line. Of course, unlike your sister you might not breed true - but there’s always the possibility - if you marry the right man - that your children could exceed you…”
It was a common discussion, her mother had been looking forward to grandchildren ever since Amelia was a child. Not the usual ‘I want a cuddly baby’ kind of yearning, more in the hope that with the right ‘breeding’ Amelia’s recessive powers could be transferred successfully. With Mona gone, this was particularly important as there was no one left to carry the bloodline of the coven mistress on.
Aunt Beth bustled into the room with her 12 o’clock cocktail. “Oh Ann, leave the poor girl alone will you? She’s being honorable and is a good member of the clan to do what she can. I’m sure once she gets this wild hair out of her ass she’ll settle down.”
Amelia grimaced, annoyed but still grateful to her aunt. Aunt Beth had always been the fun one, she too may have been disappointed in Amelia’s dud status, but she still tried to periodically stick up for Amelia through her life.
Amelia was the first Dagda witch born into the ruling family in their century-spanning history not to be gifted. Thus, in the family’s opinion, she might as well have spat on the succession they were so disappointed. Obviously she was responsible for the circumstances of her birth.
Amelia pulled down a stick of lavender from where it hung from the ceiling in a bundle and brought it to her nose. Lavender always soothed her, reminded her of the only pleasant side to her childhood - time spent with her father. Lavender was always and would always be the smell of the garden out back her whole life. The smell of running barefoot in second hand well-worn clothing because Mona needed a new tutor. It was the smell of freedom, the moments in the garden, the times when her mother was so consumed with Mona, she may as well have forgotten Amelia even existed. Neglect actually was better than abuse, as far as Amelia was concerned. But then, she hadn’t always been alone. Sometimes her father would leave his study to collect herbs and flowers for his potions, teaching this and that to Amelia as she followed him around. Those had been her favorite days.
“Alright everyone! Dinner!” Barked Amelia’s mother. Amelia jolted from her revelry, her family always had dinner early on their days together. Everyone bustled out of the nooks and crannies of the house into the large dinning room to stand waiting for her mother to bring out the soup and fresh bread. Amelia stood at the dark walnut table and glanced around her at her father. She often wondered why her parents bothered to stay married.
Amelia scowled, the rumor in the family was that they had been happy, before her birth. But when her mother bore her, she blamed her husband for the lack of potential Amelia had. Ann couldn’t imagine that she herself had had an egg without potential - so it must have been what fertilized it as far as she was concerned.
Amelia believed the rumor.
It was her father’s garden in the back of course, he was a creation witch, a grower. He could heal minor injuries and control plants. Not terribly useful in the eyes of a coven leader in a vampire hunting clan. It was a surprise to everyone when her mother had married him. It still surprised Amelia, but either they had loved each other as the rumor said - or, more likely, her mother had chosen him because he’d be easy to control and would not get in the way of her rule.
Growers were naturally peaceful witches, happier at home with their plants than on the streets. He always had callouses from weeding instead of wielding a blade, strained eyes from pouring over texts instead of the eagle perception of a hunter.
At this point it had become that her mother Ann was a fierce 45 that looked like a striking 30, and her father - just as old - was a ruddy stoutish man with a wreath of white hair.
Amelia believed that the constant wear of Ann’s vitriol and backbiting had worn down his calm nature long ago and aged him quicker.
Amelia looked to her left and gave him a bright smile, he sent a kind look that crinkled his eyes over his small reading glasses. Amelia and he had been a two person team growing up, the two outcasts of the family, while Mona was the apple of mother’s eye.
When Amelia’s mother finally came in with the soup, and Beth brought the bread, everyone sat. Amelia’s whole dysfunctional family in one room. Oh, she knew they were all bat shit crazy, the witch thing an arcane lifestyle and one particularly distorted by her mother’s fierce nature and caustic disdain. But they were hers, so she kept coming back. Amelia put her spoon carefully in the piping hot soup.
Then, down the table her cousin Luna innocently raised her own spoon to her mouth, pointedly blew
on it and spoke, “Who’s the new boyfriend Amelia? I see you at the coffeehouse together.”
Amelia jolted and almost spilled her soup, then blushed. “He’s not my boyfriend, he’s just a foreign rich guy who hired me to show him around the city.”
Ann looked up sharply. “Is that wise Amelia?”
Amelia shrugged in an overstated dismissal. “He’s a photographer - harmless and pays well.”
“Does this interfere with your job?”
“No it’s mainly a night gig, he’s just an eccentric artist.”
Ann gave a pleased nod. “Good, it will curtail your little vendetta.”
Amelia smirked into her soup. “Yup.”
“Well that is good news,” Ann smiled briefly, and dismissed Amelia just as quickly.
Across from her, Amelia’s father spoke to her quietly. “Photographer? That sounds much more fun than chasing vampires. When are you getting back to your art honey?”
Amelia blushed deeper, her father had always encouraged her work - insisted she had talent. “Actually, I’m starting a piece now.”
“Good. Don’t be like Mona, Amelia, I don’t want to lose another daughter. Let it be. Both sides are to blame in this as much as I hate to say.”
“What did you say Richard?” Came her mother’s sharply censorious voice from the head of the table.
Her father shrugged, as usual a little cowed by Ann, and sighed. “Nothing dear. I was telling Amelia about my weed problem. The mint and the thyme aren’t getting along.”
Amelia’s mother harrumphed and dismissed them again. Her father kneaded the bridge of his nose beneath the plastic nose piece of his glasses. He laid his hand across Amelia’s and said, “We’ll talk later dear.” And then he pretended to be fascinated by buttering a small slice of bread.
After dinner, it was the cousins’ turn to wash up, so Amelia used the time to wander out to the arboretum and observatory that was her father’s haven. He could sit and read there, surrounded by the things he loved - his plants and books. When Amelia came in, her father looked up and smiled, then poured her a cup of his wonderful mint tea. Amelia sat down in her favorite armchair across from her father, they had spent many long nights up talking this way. Mint tea and stories.
A Guide to Vampire Hunting: ...and other failures (Alchemy Inc. Book 1) Page 3
