by Sam Hall
“Dead when harvested,” the man closest said, giving the plastic bag a poke. “No good unless you want to deal with the dark witches.”
Miriam sighed. “Do you have a letter to go with this?”
“Yeah,” I said reaching into my back pocket. She looked it over, flicking through the pages swiftly then rolled her eyes.
“Same old stuff,” she said, passing it to the elders. “Take his side over the other packs, support his push into the other camps.” She shook her head and picked up some paper and a pen, sitting back down to compose a reply.
“Need to replace your amulet,” Samuel, the elder closest to the bag said. “Smells weak, that magic. Not enough to keep you safe.”
“Yeah, right,” I said, digging around in my pocket for a rubber band. I found one finally and tied off a good hank of the bottom of my hair and then pulled out my knife.
“What are you doing?” Nathaniel said with a frown.
“We make magic stronger,” I said. “Freely given blood, hair, can extend or amplify the power of a spell. Anyone’s will, ours is just more potent. Meat does nothing,” I said, pointing to the bag on the table. "But people persist in believing dumb things about us.” I hacked off the chunk of hair, the rest springing free in a ragged fall. I passed the clump to Samuel, who had noticed my amulet. I pulled the thin string off over my head and placed it gently into the elder’s waiting hand. I kept the pocket knife blade open and in my hand as the man began to chant, his hand waving over the tiny bundle of fur, hair and string.
Finally, it started to glimmer in his hand and I knew what I had to do. I sliced a shallow cut into the ball of my thumb, moving when he gestured to smear the blood on the bundle. I could feel the air contract around it, snapping into place, then he handed it back to me. I closed up the knife and held out my thumb, a small bead of blood balanced on the top of it.
“For your strength,” I said. Nathaniel’s eyes watched every moment as the elder nodded, giving me a traditional gesture of thanks, before placing the finger inside his mouth. I briefly felt the long hard scythes of his canines as he took the blood from me, but then my hand was returned to me unharmed. He seemed a little flushed, his spine a little straighter and his eyes a little clearer.
“This is my response,” Miriam said, her mouth a thin line of displeasure, handing me a letter. “But, this one can return it,” she jerked a thumb at Nathaniel. “I don’t want you going into that viper’s nest.”
“It’s just business,” I said. “Girl’s gotta make a quid.”
“You could stay here, you know that.”
Everyone’s after me today, I thought, hiding the frustration that rose in response to the offer. It was generous in a way, they let few non-wolves inside pack lands and even fewer could live here. Non-wolves were seen to be little more than children or defective wolves, we were weaker than they were, remained completely oblivious to the wealth of natural information they used every day, to know how to live within and manipulate nature to better suit the pack.
There were occasions of werewolf men taking non-wolves as partners, but it was seen as creepy, like marrying a teenager. Your rank in the pack came from your strength and skill, and no one other than wolves could match them. I’d be little other than a clumsy, immature pet, to be kept for its endearing ineptitude. “If it comes to that, I’ll be grateful to take you up on your offer, but right now I’m still able to stay independent.”
“It is that brother of yours, isn’t it?” Miriam said, her green eyes boring into mine. She shook her head and hissed in disgust, “Him. He’s no more than the hunger. It is only death that can give him what he wants.”
“He could get off the yellow. I did,” I snapped back.
“He is not you,” Miriam said with a slight smile, placing her hand on mine. “You are so much stronger, and anyway, he has been in the grips of the marigold for too long. All that he was has been taken, consumed. There is nothing left for him to fight with, for him to want to fight.”
“We’ll see,” I said, thinking of the mess I was likely to have to clean up when I got home.
“You let your beast have its head,” she said, then got to her feet. “Stay safe, little white one. Your gift is appreciated, you add to the strength of the pack. Now take the bag back. We do not traffic in dark things like this,” she said, casting an eye over several elders who looked like they’d protest.
“As you wish, Alpha,” I said and picked it up along with her letter. Nathaniel moved to take them from me when I produced the slate for her to sign.
“It does not allow me to make my mark?” she said with a frown.
I took a look at it, “Oh fuck, I forgot to get Rohan to sign it. We’re going to have to go back and get his sign and then…”
“Give it here,” Nathaniel said and picked up the stylus to sign for the vampire king.
“It’ll reject...” I started to say but the device trilled, indicating his signature had been accepted. “You didn't deduct the travel costs from the job and gave me a bonus?” He shrugged in response. I shook my head and passed it on to Miriam, who completed the paperwork.
I walked away from the courier outlet with a wallet full of cash and Stan sporting a sour face. Gods, I could afford to pay the rent and get some food for once. “You don't have to hang around,” I said to Nathaniel. “I can walk from here.”
“I’ll drop you at home,” he said. “Keeps me away from the Palace.”
“It’s fine,” I said, “the walk will do me good.”
“Going to play nursemaid?” he said, cocking his head to one side. “Seems like you’re trying to help someone who doesn’t want it, and won't take assistance from those who want to help you.”
“Because you have me all sorted out from one bike ride?” I said. “Maybe I just don’t want some weird-ass vampire knowing where I live, huh?”
He shook his head with a grimace. “Every damned vampire in the Quarter knows where you live. You are the flock on which they feed, and they’re very good shepherds. They’re waiting to see if you fall out of favour with the MacIntyres, and if you do, you’ll find yourself whisked from wherever you are and deposited between the king’s legs to eat dick for the foreseeable future. The others, they don’t have options, but you do. Here, in the Quarter, in this city, they look at the pigment in your skin and in your hair, and they make decisions. What you are. What you’ll do. What can be done to you with impunity. No matter what you say or do, no matter how smart, fast, or talented you are, they’ll use their force of arms or numbers to force you into that role if you don’t comply. You have to pick a side, that’s what whites do. This balancing act you got going with the factions is bloody unstable. Wouldn't take much for it all to fall down. Miriam to die, the boys getting tired of waiting around...”
I swallowed hard. “Maybe I’m not content to be someone’s pet my whole life,” I said. “Maybe I want the power to forge my own course. Maybe I want the power to make my own place in the hierarchy, create my own faction.”
His grin was immediate, but I couldn't tell if he was happy or just patronising me. “Well, I’d like to see that, but if that’s seriously what you want to do, being a courier won’t get you there. You need a power base.”
“What? All the malcontents and misfits that are outside the factions?”
“Maybe.” His phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket. “You want that ride?” I shook my head. “Suit yourself, little white girl. Be seeing you.”
I kinda regretted turning down the lift. The sun was starting to go down and the wind was picking up. I shivered in my jacket, pulling the collar up around my ears. I tended not to notice the clatter of falling rubble and the corresponding skitters through it, it was a common enough sound. Now I looked into the growing gloom and saw the vague shapes of figures perched expectantly. By the time I reached the shop I was jumping out of my skin. I knew how precarious my situation was.
It’d taken me long enough to forge the alliances back w
hen I was a freelance runner. I did free jobs and ingratiated myself the best I could to try and get the tools for me to roam as freely as possible through the Quarter, only signing up with Carson’s when I had it all in place. I was one of a handful of whites on staff, the job usually going to vamps or young wolves trying to prove themselves, fighting through enemy territory to deliver their parcels.
I bought some stuff to knock up into a simple meal and then trudged up the stairs to the flat. The landlord, Anne's door swung open as I passed. “Lethe, I was in your place to fix the toilet again. Mrs Andrews let me know about the stench. Your brother...”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“The other tenants weren’t pleased when I agreed to let the two of you rent here. Albinos are junkies and we don't want junkies in the building. Your brother was lying in a pile of his own puke.”
“I know, I know...”
“This can’t keep happening, Lethe.”
“I’ve got the rent,” I said, dropping my bag and scrabbling in my pockets.
“Lethe...”
“Please, another chance. It’s getting cold and it makes it hard to find somewhere.”
“You have those vamp boys that are always coming by. Boys like that have nice places to go to.”
I fell silent. What could I say? That they’d refuse to take him? It would only confirm her own fears. That if forced, they’d drain him dry and he’d beg them to do so? It was why they kept their distance from me, except to renew their claim. Well, that and the fact I wouldn’t fuck them. “Please...”
“Last chance, Lethe,” she said, grabbing the money from my hand, “but any more of this bullshit...”
“I know, there won’t be.”
“You need to start looking out for yourself. You don’t buy into any of the white bullshit. You stay clean, earn an honest dollar.”
“Of course, and thank you, for dealing with Marley.”
“See that it doesn't happen again,” Anne said, shutting her door behind her.
All my promises were lies. I could no more promise Marley would straighten up, than I could promise someone the moon. I lied, and I lied, and I lied, to try and keep ahead of the threats for the day, to try and survive. We had Outreach tomorrow. All of us whites were supposed to be medicated, it’d been a part of the treaty written after the Revolution. None of the other factions had cared, it kept us compliant and horny, which suited the vamps, the wolves that used to trade us and the dark witches who cut us up for spells. The rest were too busy fighting for their own concessions. The humans had wanted it because of some obscure texts that had been found. We were supposed to be the conduits to the gods and the hallucinogenic powder from the giant farmed marigolds was supposed to be our link to them. Once a week, every single one of the albinos in the Quarter was shoved into the same room or risked a kill order.
I unlocked my door and smelt the sharp scent of bleach. I dropped the food on the kitchen table and went to Marley’s room. “We have to go to Outreach!” he snapped at me, his blue eyes standing out brightly in his gaunt face.
“Outreach isn't until tomorrow,” I said, backing away.
“Tomorrow! No, no, no! It can't, it has to be... you, you need to get it, get some for me!” I felt the familiar weight of his will pressing down on me. It was like a mental itch you couldn't scratch, a sudden impulse. It was weak though; he was so depleted he had few resources to use to try and force me.
“Stop that!” I snarled. “Don’t you ever push on me!”
He instantly dissolved into tears, dropping down onto his mattress, his fingers digging into his brittle hair, pulling at it hard enough to break chunks of it out. It fell from his hands like confetti as tears streamed down his face. “Marley...”
“It hurts!” He cried, his face a mask of agony. “It’s like someone’s cutting me with hot knives, like I’m burning from the inside.”
“I bought us some food,” I said, pulling him out in the main room. “You’ll feel much better with something in you.”
“I don't want fucking food,” he screamed, tossing the bag in the air. Bread and cans went flying around the room. “You know what I need! You know what will make me feel better!” His eyes swivelled to land on me. “You can get some. They want you at the Palace, always asking me to bring you. They won’t turn you away.”
“No...”
“Yes, go.” His eyes narrowed, his glare becoming almost a palpable thing, his voice taking on that odd, echoey quality it did when he was trying for a serious persuasion. “Go, go...”
I punched him with everything I had, using the energy he’d forced into me to drive my fist into his temple. He fell back like a handful of sticks, eyes rolled up in his head, out cold. The terrible push to go out, and by any means return to the Palace, slowly left my body. I sat on one of the chairs, arms wrapped around me, my muscles shuddering with the effort of stopping myself from obeying. When I felt it was safe, I walked around the kitchen, retrieving the food he’d so carelessly cast aside. Finally, I stepped over him and walked into my bedroom.
Wind whistled through my window. I’d need to do something about that when winter came or I wouldn’t survive. I grabbed all my clothes, including the ones in good need of a wash and spread them over the thin blanket I used, sliding carefully underneath so as not to dislodge them. The steel springs were ice cold, but the clothes were a comforting weight. I lay there, probably for hours, listening to the mournful wail of the wind. The world’s weirdest lullaby.
They came sometime in the night. I dimly heard the rustle of the plastic, looking up groggily in the dark. “S’ok,” one of them said, settling down beside me, “go back to sleep.” The other took the empty side, tangling his fingers in mine. His hands were ice cold, but the heavy cocoon of their bodies trapped all of my available body heat around me, lulling me back to sleep. They were gone when I awoke, a cold cup of coffee and a sandwich left by the bed the only thing to let me know they had been there. I sipped the icy liquid and wondered what the fuck to do.
4
Rohan
Storage shed
Vampire Sector
The Quarter
“Come on, let’s get these bitches into the truck,” Rohan said as he ambled around the large vehicle. His people moved almost as sluggishly as the pregnant albinos they were piling in. He missed his inner circle the minute he arrived. He couldn’t use trusted lieutenants for this job, people started developing morals when pregnant girls were being served up to Hesse on a platter, even if they were albino ones.
“Is that all of them?” he said to Buckley, who was just walking into the shed now.
“Not quite,” the man said with a sly smile. “Found a few…stragglers.”
“You’re not fucking taking her!”
Ah, the hysterics, Rohan thought.
In the open doorway, he saw the silhouetted figure of an albino girl, kicking and screaming, being man-handled towards the truck. Defiance, he noted with slitted eyes, can’t fucking abide defiance.
“Drug the girl!” he snapped, her shrill cries already starting to grate. He didn’t mind a woman screaming under him as much as the next man, and not necessarily from pleasure either, but right now his cock wasn’t hard so he just wanted her to shut the fuck up.
“NO!” Rohan turned slowly to see one of his Horde being held back by his people. The man threw himself against the bodies of his supposed brethren, making an embarrassing display. “She can’t take the drugs! Annie, no drugs, love. You know what the witchbreed said!”
Annie said very little, sobbing as she was shoved into the back of the truck, pale hands clawing at the metal sides in an attempt to prevent the inevitable. Rohan watched her attempts with a frown, hissing to himself as he strode over.
“I said, fucking drug her!” The vampire king picked up the dosing gun from the walls of the truck, checking to see if it was loaded. Seeing the bright yellow liquid in the chamber he dialled the dosage up. Pregnant bitches could be bloody hard
to subdue if they were off their medication for some time. Filled with romantic notions of birthing weak little pale babies, they suddenly developed hitherto unseen spines, like this one.
“Bring her here,” he snarled, the rattle in his throat enough to shock the lot of them into compliance, his people and his albino.
“No, no, no,” the woman sobbed, her teeth grinding as she was forced closer. People would’ve scarce believed him, that one little white bitch could make it difficult for three vampires to drug, but here he was. His hand struck out like a snake, burying it in her cobweb fine locks and dragged her over when he had it wrapped around his fist. He lowered his face until it was inches from hers, this Annie.
“You will take your medicine like a good little girl, or I will get up into the back of this truck and kick that baby out of your body myself. Do you hear me?”
He shook her to punctuate his every word, even the dazed girls sitting in the truck shuffled away from him despite being drugged up to the gills. Annie didn’t agree, she just sobbed, snot trails trickling down her face. He put the gun against her neck and pulled the trigger, everyone flinching at the loud click. He let the girl drop when her eyes rolled back in her head, her skull bouncing against the truck tray. The gun landed with a clatter when he shot his people a glare that made it clear what he thought about their performance.
He strode over to the man being held back by his lackeys. He shoved past them, getting immediately in the face of the interloper.
“What are you doing?”
“Rohan, man, Annie, she’s my—”
“She’s your what? Your love? Your one and only? Seriously, why would I give a fuck…”-What is this man’s name? His brain stuttered for a moment, then threw up the answer- “…Fletcher?”
