by C. A. Storm
That was unexpected.
I had underestimated her. Again, it seemed.
More carefully this time, I entered that shadowy place ‘between’ this realm and another, and instead of rushing forward blindly, I actually used my othersight, and looked first.
Yowling, I slammed my other eyes shut and retreated back out of the shadows, transforming in mid-stumble to land flat on my ass as I desperately rubbed at my eyes, trying to clear them of the tears that blinded me almost as badly as the sheer force of the magic permeating her protective ward.
Have you ever stared at pristine snow as it reflected the sun? Great, now imagine that same blazing white light being refracted through countless prisms, and then focused through a magnifying glass straight into your cornea.
You’d come close.
And that was just the look of the ward. Trying to pass through it, well, let’s just say I’m glad I always land on my feet.
Finally managing to regain my vision, I climbed to my feet and glared futilely at the door.
“There goes that brilliant idea,” I grunted, turning and pacing to figure out what I should do next. I knew my contacts would keep me apprised of Yuki’s progress through the city. Since she took a taxi, I knew she was going to be doing “human” things, and it was easy-peasy to track where she went through credit card receipts and pinging her cellphone…which she had probably left in Japan.
Bloody, sodding lack of international telecom companies!
Fine, she wanted to play like that, we’d play like that!
Time to get dressed and go do some “shopping” of my own.
Grimacing at the thought of once more having to conceal my gloriousness beneath clothing, depriving those poor humans of me, I reluctantly pulled on some clean clothes.
I had a bad feeling I’d be spending a lot more time in this fleshy prison, so might as well get used to it.
❆❅❆
Vilhelm | Cœur de Lyon Estates, Shadow Lake, CO | December 6, 2017
Apparently, my reputation had preceded me; or, at the very least, Audrick’s personal assistant had managed to secure me a nice, remote cabin on the Estates property. While the Château was certainly large enough, and the castle suited my general preferences, it had too many other occupants, and that’d get on my nerves. Which would be bad, since Audrick would hate for me to go on a rampage through the home of an ally.
The things we have to do for family.
Instead, they had given me a spacious, rustic A-frame cabin tucked up against the mountain, overlooking the entire valley below. Even I had to admit the view was rather spectacular, with the Château rising up on a hill and overlooking the reproduction of some sort of stylized Medieval village. Yet, despite the rustic feel of the cabin and the anachronistic view, the cabin had all the modern conveniences I’d grown to appreciate since I had awoken.
It was almost like I hadn’t gone to sleep at all, and instead, technology had just appeared in the blink of an eye.
Television was a particular fasciation of mine, along with computers. They entertained me, and kept me from becoming bored. Mobile telephones and I, however, had been at an impasse for many years, at least until the invention of Siri. Now, with voice commands, it was much easier than trying to use my thick fingers to navigate the tiny, little buttons humans insisted upon.
For a species so obsessed with size, they always seemed to vacillate between “bigger is better” and the desire to make everything “pocket-sized,” one extreme or the other.
Granted, considering I felt more was better, you could probably figure which camp I fell firmly into.
Tiny things made me feel…uneasy.
I may have been the largest of the seven active dragons in my true form, and my human size had always seemed to follow a similar pattern, but I wasn’t clumsy, nor was I indelicate. I could be graceful and subtle, when the need arose. I just rarely saw the need to be subtle, when blunt worked so much more quickly and effectively.
But fragile, delicate things made me feel uncouth, and I did not like to feel uncouth.
I may have looked like a barbarian, and acted like a barbarian sometimes, but I was not uncivilized.
I was older than most human civilizations! Though, I may have slept through the rise and fall of more than a few of those empires.
Catching the reflection of my fierce, scowling face in the window, I paused and thoughtfully stroked my beard.
“Ja, it is time,” I said, my voice still rusty and gruff from disuse. My English carried the Nordic accent, but I was fine with that. There are plenty of ways to get a message across. Speaking was usually just the least effective, at least in my experience.
Coming to a swift decision, I went to the counter where I had left my phone charging. Pressing a finger against the home button, I growled, “Siri, call Arnie’s mobile.”
Yes, I knew how to use Siri. Just because I hadn’t spoken much in the last few years, I had watched plenty of television and knew how this thing worked. Thankfully, Arnie had given me his contact information, and I’d had the forethought to program it into my iPhone.
My shiny, precious iPhone.
“Calling Arnie,” Siri replied in her melodious tone.
I waited impatiently, sipping my rapidly cooling coffee.
“Yello’!” Arnie’s deep voice chirped, giving me pause. Yellow?
“Arnie, it is I, Vilhelm,” I announced, “I need to know where I can find a barber, and some place to acquire new garments. Particularly attire appropriate for attending social gatherings.”
“Mr. Vindorm? I mean, Vilhelm?” Arnie’s voice came over the speaker. He sounded uncertain. Did I not announce my name clearly?
Leaning closer to the phone, I boomed, “Yes, it is Vilhelm! I need to find a barber! And new garments! Where can I find a tailor?!”
“Yikes, Mister Vin…Vilhelm,” Arnie laughed, “I heard ya just fine, sir, no need to holler like that! Yeah, I can help ya. We just put the sheep out to pasture, and I was gonna head back on to town this afternoon anyway. Gimme about an hour and I’ll swing by and pick ya up.”
It took a moment for his colloquial English to translate into some form of English I actually understood. Arnie’s accent was very thick, it was difficult to understand him. He should probably work on that some. I will suggest it to him when he arrives. That would be the polite and social thing to do.
And Audrick thought I couldn’t be trained. Ha!
“Ja!” I answered with a grin, then stabbed my finger on the button to end the call.
The glass groaned ominously beneath my finger, but managed to not crack.
Impressive! Humans really are too clever by half.
Closing my eyes, I turned my focus inward, mentally tracing the tangled threads that connected me to those I knew, those I had known, those lost forever and those who simply slept, hoping that humanity would wipe themselves out and give us back our world.
I snorted. That would not happen, to believe so was foolish. The Enoch needed humanity too much for that, though it had been overlong since the last Culling had occurred. I believe humans called it the Black Death.
Ah! There it was, the most slender, iridescent thread, barely formed, like a single wisp of smoke in the vast expanse of the sky.
Her thread.
I dared not touch it yet, it was still too tenuous a connection, and until I learned more about her, yanking on it could come as a shock to her system—a dangerous shock.
But simply knowing the connection had begun, the first threads of our Fate intertwining, filled me with a fierce, powerful joy unlike any I had ever experienced, a sense of pride and duty filled me.
I would find her. I would protect her. She would be mine, until this world ended and into the next incarnation.
Mine!
❆❅❆
Yuki | Downtown, Denver, CO | December 6, 2017
Why had I thought it would be a good idea to go shopping? I figured that since it was the work day, the stor
es would be relatively empty and the crowds non-existent. I had forgotten to take the lunch rush into account.
While nowhere near the levels of Tokyo’s crowded streets and stores, it was far more chaotic, and Christmas was everywhere. People were bundled up, and it was hovering just above freezing, but the air was too dry for it to actually snow. I was glad I had shrugged into my leather jacket before leaving the hotel, just to avoid being gawked at like an idiot for wearing only jeans and a t-shirt.
I had found a nice little restaurant and gotten my American breakfast fix, although they hadn’t had any chocolate chip pancakes, but by the time I had finished, the streets had filled up with the crowds.
If I got jostled by another pushy business woman struggling to juggle her low-fat-peppermint-mocha-soy-latte with shopping bags, I may have actually stabbed someone.
I’d also picked up a couple of tails. One, I immediately recognized. Koh may have been a cat and naturally stealthy, but I’d also been trained by the best; and, to be perfectly honest, I always seemed to get a strange tingle through my body when he was around, so that helped.
The second one, however, I didn’t recognize. Susanō’s rotten temper, I hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him yet. Or her. They were good, maybe even better than I was. All I knew was that they clearly weren’t human. Not to be speciesist, but to totally be speciesist, I seriously doubted there was a human alive who could get the drop on me.
But my mystery stalker had been following me for the past two hours without letting me get more than the sense I was being watched by someone besides Koh. In fact, I kind of got the impression that Koh had drawn their attention to me.
Great. Just great.
So, I decided to really go shopping, heading purposefully toward where the helpful diner waitress had said I’d find some of the best shopping in downtown Denver, the 16th Street Mall, a mile-long thoroughfare lined with shops, outdoor performers, and stores of all kinds.
They wanted to follow me? Let’s give them something interesting to watch.
I was a young, independent woman, armed with my biological father’s credit card. World, and watchers, beware!
❆❅❆
“Mysterious Stalker” | Downtown, Denver, CO | December 6, 2017
Oi! I have not had this much fun in years, I thought gleefully as I perched unseen up on the roof of the boutique, one hand loosely hooked around an antenna for balance while I leaned precariously over the edge.
“Have you located the targets?”
The voice came in softly over the headset my little brother insisted I wear. With a sigh of exasperation, I responded back.
“Of course, I have,” I huffed, “Your lad’s been following your lass for about two hours now. Think he’s stalking the lovely little birdie, but considering he’s a cat, that ain’t no big surprise now, is it?”
“Have you been spotted?”
“Awww, you do care,” I grinned, teasing the wee git on purpose. I might adore the little bastard to pieces, but as his adopted big brother, it was my job to tease him. “But no, I ain’t been seen. What do you take me for? There’s a reason the big boss calls me in on these little ex-pe-ditions, ain’t there?”
“Well, it’s certainly not because of your dictation,” his voice was terse, but I could hear his amusement and could see the grin he was trying to fight. He hated when I mangled my accents, and I’ll admit, I totally did it to get a reaction out of people; like I did most things.
“You just leave it to your big bro, lil’bit. I’m the master of being inconspicuous!” I assured him, my eyes narrowing in interest as the petite Japanese lass headed into a lingerie store.
When the Japanese cat-guy stopped and stared at the store in slack-jawed amazement, I laughed hard enough I almost lost my balance.
“Do I even want to know?”
“Nah, you’re seeing what I’m seeing anyways,” I replied once I managed to bite back my laughter. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I closed them against the bright sunlight and focused on my inner eye, on my wee darlings that let me see wherever I needed to go.
“Just keeping an eye on the lass. Let me know if the cat-guy does anything interesting,” I instructed, although I wasn’t sure why I insisted on watching her, when the one called Kurokō was my target. Something about her intrigued me, and it’d been a long time since anything intrigued me.
Besides, if she was going to try on lingerie, she should really have a bloke’s proper opinion, even if it was only a mental yes or no. I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t going to be creeping on her, not really. I mean, she and her friend were Yōkai, and it was pretty bloody obvious they’d been sent here for some nefarious purpose. I was just going to cover all the bases.
Absently, I scratched my chest while I struggled with a nagging sense of unease.
“If you spy on her in the changing room, I’ll kick your ass,” my brother’s low growl was bloody adorable.
“I ain’t going to spy on her, I promise.” Even if every base male urge in my body was demanding a peep show, I had enough self-control to dial it down a notch. At least, for now.
Chapter 11
Yuki | La Petite Mort Boutique, Denver, CO | December 6, 2017
Okay, so I may have originally decided to duck into the lingerie store to see how my stalkers would react, but once I looked around, I may have forgotten all about them.
La Petite Mort Boutique was a boutique, obviously, that specialized in lingerie, but instead of pink, frilly, and unabashedly girly, it was all dark, lush, and one-hundred shades of Victorian Gothic. The air was faintly perfumed with damask rose, and there were small, faux gas lamps artfully arranged to provide small islands of light. Old-fashioned mannequins modeled everything from leather-and-lace bustier and mini-skirt sets, to gauzy, darkly romantic scraps of sheer, dark silks.
It was all extremely Goth Lolita, and I'll admit that the moody teenage girl still brooding within me suddenly went all giddy with excitement, heart-shaped eyes and drooling with unabashed avarice. Great, my inner self just went chibi on me...
...but only my inner self. I may be a monster, but I didn't do the whole super-deformed cute thing, despite what some of my friends may claim!
There were a few other customers as I walked in, being assisted by a tall, lanky, drop-dead beautiful, androgynous individual in an indigo, brocaded velvet frock coat, with dove-gray dyed leather straps secured across the chest with filigreed cameo brooches. Long, raven-black hair hung straight down, parted with a widow’s peak to reveal a face that could have been sculpted from marble by the hand of a loving god. I only caught the figure in profile, and I couldn’t hear the conversation over the whisper-soft harpsichord music playing in the boutique.
I’ll be honest, even after staring for a few minutes, I couldn’t decide whether the figure was a he or a she, but either way, they were beautiful enough to make me feel self-conscious. Shrugging it off, I turned and perused the selection, keeping an eye and an ear out, both to learn more about the figure and my stalkers, but I once again got caught up in shopping.
Making a few selections, I found the changing room tucked into a side room, and closing the thick, velvet drape behind me, I eagerly stripped out of my street clothes and pulled on the first outfit that had caught my eye.
Side note. Small and perky may not draw a lot of attention from guys on the street, but outside of Japan, it could be difficult to find “sexy” clothing for women that didn’t make us look like little girls. To be honest, I could probably get away with not wearing a bra at all most days—and I often did at home—but, there’s something about the right set of lingerie that can boost your self-confidence to an entirely new level, even if there was no one to see it but you.
There was a selection of hypoallergenic, sheer undergarments in various sizes and in various flesh tones thoughtfully provided, so slipping on one of the protective garments, I decided to try on the corset I had grabbed.
It was a beautiful Chinese silk in a pal
e turquoise, with painted quicksilver dragons dancing amongst ebony waves. Laced up the back, it fastened with tiny pearl buttons up the front, and gave my rather modest barely-B-cups a noticeable swell as it tucked in my waist.
Twisting and turning to admire myself in the mirror, I froze as childish, lisping voices spoke behind me.
“Vanity is a sin.”
"It's a sin to be so vain."
There was no reflection of anyone in the mirror, besides myself, and I hadn’t sensed a thing.
Carefully, slowly, I turned my head just enough to glance over my shoulder.
Standing just inside the thick, velvet curtain were two little children, maybe five or six years old. One was a boy, with white-blond hair in a page boy cut, framing chubby cheeks and bright blue eyes. Beside him, the girl was nearly identical, except her hair was worn in Shirley Temple curls. The boy wore a white dress shirt and khaki slacks, the girl a white dress, like they were both on the way to church, but had taken a detour to visit a lingerie shop—a Gothic Victorian lingerie shop named “The Little Death” after a French euphemism for orgasm.
My Weird Meter went off the scale.
“Is it?” I asked softly, continuing to turn slowly so I could face the two creepy children who stared up at me with blank faces. I wanted to keep them in sight, and did not want them to continue lurking behind me.
Giving simultaneous, serious nods, the little boy spoke up, “You are not supposed to be here, monster.”
“Monsters should not be here,” the little girl echoed in agreement, her lisp pronounced as she earnestly echoed her brother.
Yeah, I didn’t need any supernatural senses to tell me that these were not normal children.
“I was invited,” I said carefully, keeping my arms loosely held at my sides as I regarded them.
Suddenly, I felt it. A shimmering in the air, an unnatural stillness as sounds grew muffled, distant, slowed; color leached away from everything around me, casting everything in strange monotones, draining away all shadows and highlights, leaving flat, muted color.
