This was an opportunity of a lifetime and Clara silently hoped to avoid the fate of their namesake. Tied to a stake and burned as a heretic for her faith, Clara could not think of an outcome that was less desirable.
“Very well,” Clara said. “I suppose,” she added with a wink.
Fortunately, her attempt at humour was well received. Since Edith was directly involved with this group, it paid to have a friend within their ranks.
* * * *
Clara followed Edith while they made their way through the depths of the Tower, and past the restricted section of the main library. Once they reached the North wall, Edith stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face Clara.
“Ever heard of Georgians?” Edith asked.
Clara suppressed her surprise before she replied, “Rumours, innuendos and whispers carried by the wind.”
“Good to know that we still have some secrets left,” Edith said. “We don’t know much about them, other than the fact that they have abilities and technology that outstrip our own.”
Edith glided over the spines of the books until she found the right one. With a single touch, the book began to glow. Without any hesitation, she walked right through the bookshelf.
Clara attempted to do the same, but bounced off the books and landed straight on her rump. Another surprise for this week, but this time, she suspected a key piece of information had been withheld. The theory was confirmed once Edith’s head popped out from the books and giggled.
“You’ll need to touch On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres by Nicolaus Copernicus to pass through,” Edith said before she vanished.
This time, Clara did as instructed and watched the book glow. She then pushed through the shelves as though they were an illusion, one that stopped her cold a moment ago.
Once she made it through, Clara found herself in a high, vaulted chamber. It reached out further than the eye could see, although that might have had something to do with the poor lighting.
“Some believe the Georgians are mages, while others claim they are a secret order of scientists. A new theory circulating amongst the younger staff describe them as a species alien to this planet,” Edith said.
While they pushed deeper into the chamber, Clara noted the series of alcoves built into the walls. Some were chock-full of weapons, while others contained armour, clothing and jewellery. Everything that a liberated femme fatale needed to wage war on the enemy.
Within the chamber, there were mats and targets intermixed with fashionable furniture. It seemed like a lounge dedicated to comfort, fashion, and combat. Clara’s eyes glowed with excitement; there was so much fun to be had here.
“They are the reason the Tower still exists. Without their direct involvement, we would have been overrun by our enemies long ago,” Edith said.
Clara listened to every word, even when she came across a series of small pistols on a table. She ran her hand over the cool steel of the weapons, curious about the carnage she could unleash with these.
“What’s the catch?” Clara asked when she picked up a double barrelled derringer.
“Smart girl,” Edith said. “Payment varies based on the request. Sometimes they exchange intelligence and knowledge.”
“Raw materials, precious gems, and money?” Clara asked.
She pointed the derringer towards a target. There was no rear sight so that meant this was a close-in weapon.
“Sometimes,” Edith said without expanding on that.
What was left unsaid told her all she needed to know. It was probably safe to assume that students disappeared from time to time so the Tower could make good on its payments. Sure it seemed cold, but they were at war.
Clara squeezed the first trigger until the hammer struck the primer. A loud bang was heard followed by a great puff of smoke and a gaping hole in the target.
“What the—!” Clara exclaimed.
“Should have warned you,” Edith said. “Although it’s more entertaining to learn this lesson first hand.”
Right before her eyes, the target began to repair itself. Clara observed the gaping hole disappear then heard a tink when the projectile dropped to the floor.
“Georgian?” Clara asked.
Edith nodded and grabbed a heavy metal ball from another table. It was made of thick steel with pre-fragmented segments. At the top, there was a brass fitting followed by a loop.
“German Kugelhandgranate,” Edith said.
The elder attached a hook onto the loop and tossed it at Clara’s feet. It smoked for a few seconds until it erupted into a ball of flame that sent metal and unburned gunpowder in every direction.
Clara opened her eyes and saw that she was no worse for wear. However the furniture and targets within a couple of yards were shredded. Like the last time, it took a few minutes for things to revert to normal.
“Anti-personnel grenade. While heavy, they are deadly when properly deployed,” Edith said.
“So we can play without consequence?” Clara asked.
“Correct,” Edith said. “Any questions?”
“Where are the other girls?” Clara asked.
“Most are training or in their quarters, although some are in this room as we speak,” Edith said. “This room can provide privacy when needed. Just like you and I are enjoying right now.”
“Where can a girl get her hands on a machine gun?” Clara asked with a grin.
“Right over there,” Edith said, unfazed by the question.
They both smirked before heading towards the goodies. Was this the beginning of a great friendship?
CHEMICAL ROMANCE
1912
Joining les Filles de Jeanne D’Arc marked a significant change in Clara’s life. While she had the freedom to leave the Tower, that privilege was rarely used. Sure, exploring the world had its charm, but there was something to be said about advanced weapons training in high heels.
Many of the other girls from the group were making the same choices, so Clara did not feel like she was neglecting other aspects of her life. The courses she took were markedly more challenging; combat training became a daily event as were courses reserved for students of the finest European finishing schools. Clara could not help but feel that there was a certain dichotomy to her education.
Clara and Edith grew closer as the weeks together turned into months. She rather enjoyed having an ally who did not feel threatened by her youth. No price could be set on being friends with someone who had her back, no matter how dangerous the situation got. Of course, the feeling was mutual, and that only strengthened their bond.
Edith had grown into a beautiful woman, calm under fire and tough as nails. Clara found herself looking up to her, hoping to meet or exceed the standards Edith set. Many of the other girls felt the same way, so Edith served as the group’s unofficial leader.
Despite Clara’s brief brush with fame, she was not the focal point of the group. This enabled her to lurk in the shadows where she enjoyed the ability to move about unnoticed. What better way to avoid getting caught? Mischief, after all, needed a certain amount of discretion.
She was not the only one who used her skills to hide in plain sight. Some instructors were adept at remaining unnoticed even while teaching their lessons.
“God, they were so boring,” Clara mumbled.
Clara soon learned that some in society were unseen not by choice, but by convention. If humanity was good for anything it was ostracising one’s fellow man.
Sister Beatrice however was a different creature altogether. She arrived at the Tower a month or so after Clara had joined the group. At first glance, she was a young woman who adopted the habit, one who sailed through crowds without raising a brow. Now there was a talent that Clara wished to master.
The day that Sister Beatrice walked into class left Clara confused. Despite her good memory for people and faces, she could not remember having seen her before, a trait it seemed that had saved her countless times.
“Sex!” Sister B
eatrice exclaimed while on her way to the podium.
The class went silent as a tomb. It was not an everyday occurrence (if ever) to have a nun utter that word. Or at least without the accompanying sting of a leather strap.
Even though most of the class looked as though they had witnessed a train wreck, Sister Beatrice took things a step further. The sister pulled out a few pins from her habit and let her veil drop to the floor. Layers like her crown band, underveil, and coif followed suit. As though by magic, her long locks of auburn hair flowed down to her shoulders.
Clara grinned. There was a lesson to be learned here. Many of the girls were busy wondering how many taboos had been broken so far.
Her tunic was the last item to drop, which showcased her stunning hourglass figure. Gone was the mousy woman who could hide in a crowd. This version of Sister Beatrice could bring about serious neck injury to any male student.
This had been a vixen in sheep’s clothing. With the veil removed, Clara saw how Sister Beatrice’s ample breasts were barely contained by her little black dress. Clara could tell that a few of the girls were somewhat uncomfortable, and doubted that their sensibilities were hurt.
“Sex, or even the idea of sex, can have great sway over people,” Sister Beatrice said. “Can anyone name a few themes people associate with sex?”
From the back row of the class came, “It sells.”
“Correct,” Sister Beatrice said. “Advertising often portrays beautiful portraits of men and women to appeal to people’s baser instincts.”
“It evokes trust,” Clara said under her breath.
“Art,” the word came from the corner of the room.
“Sex and sensuality have led people to create beautiful works that have been cherished for generations,” Sister Beatrice said. “Does anyone believe that the Mona Lisa would have been painted if she were a shrill hag? Ever wonder why she was smiling?”
The girls giggled, which meant the atmosphere in the class was beginning to thaw. They were getting over the provocative nature of the entrance.
Had that been her intent all along? A nun in a habit would have certainly muted discussion.
“Death,” Clara said.
Several of the girls stopped giggling as soon as those words reached their ears. For a moment Clara felt as though the class’ collective gaze was focused on her.
“Not many students mention that aspect,” Sister Beatrice said.
For a moment, she observed Clara but quickly shifted her attention. Apparently, this had been the opening needed to move on with the lecture.
“There are stories of wars fought over the love of a woman. Duels, murder, and deceit can often be attributed to interactions with the fairer sex,” Sister Beatrice said.
“Women are not guiltless in this matter,” Sister Beatrice said. “Women have killed to keep a man in their lives or to prevent competition.”
By this time, the girls were murmuring, questioning the course material and how this all tied together. Clara had an idea on where this was going but looked forward to watching it develop.
“Now… Now… Girls,” Sister Beatrice said. “Sex is also a weapon,” she added just as the girls were starting to simmer down.
“How?” an older student asked.
Clara could fathom a few scenarios that fit the bill; heck, she had survived an example. Alas, that meant she could never truly forget what had happened. Henceforth, Jack would always be there in the back of her mind, haunting her.
“It disarms your target,” Clara whispered.
Clara noticed that Edith was staring right at her. Was she concerned about her tone of voice? After all, she was normally assertive, not milquetoast. Clara could feel all those eyes on her now, burning a hole into her skull. This moment was long overdue, and it was about time that it came out in the open.
“Correct,” Sister Beatrice said. “The process of flirting, foreplay and ultimately barneymugging can be used for or against you.”
A few girls giggled at the word barneymugging. Clara remained silent, hoping someone else would take up the relay.
“How,” Edith said as though reading her mind.
“Good question?” Sister Beatrice asked. “Can anyone take a stab at it?”
Once again the room went quiet, it was obvious that most of the girls were unwilling to delve further into this topic. Some wanted to avoid ending up like Clara, whereas others were just waiting to hear more dirt.
“Between a rock and a hard place,” Clara said wordlessly.
Clara gulped and steadied her nerves because there was no backing away now. She needed to get through this, so she might as well do it on her terms.
“Their kind have a way of preying on our base instincts,” Edith said. “All you can think about is this desire growing from within and how they are the only ones capable of fulfilling it.”
Clara cocked her head to get a better look at Edith. The answer was eerily like the one she thought of, including the depth of emotion. Had her friend experienced a similar event?
“You are incapable of coherent thought; your instincts scream out for you to do something, but they are drowned out by your needs,” Clara added.
“That,” Sister Beatrice said. “That is how they often control their prey and have used it to hunt for millennia.”
Students were beginning to whisper amongst themselves. The little hens had just been handed a treasure trove of rumours to spread.
“How do we defend ourselves?” a student asked.
Clara smiled at Edith and said, “Faith, luck, willpower, or a partner concealed nearby.”
Sister Beatrice looked at Edith and Clara before she went on. Had this been planned as a therapeutic session? Had this been another thinly veiled test? To what end?
“Willpower,” Sister Beatrice added with a pause. “Is rarely effective against their kind. The older they get, the more powerful their abilities to manipulate us.”
The chatter amongst the girls was growing in intensity. There was static in the air that was intangible and difficult to explain. In the end, all it took was a single look from Sister Beatrice to kill it.
“As for luck,” Sister Beatrice said. “Luck is always a factor but not something anyone should count on.”
“It takes an incredibly brave person to head into danger while knowing she might never return,” Sister Beatrice said.
“Or foolhardy,” Clara said in a defeatist tone. “Sister,” she added belatedly.
“The difference of which is how successful the fool was on that particular endeavour,” Beatrice said before she smirked.
“As for a partner,” Sister Beatrice said. “Hunters often work in pairs,” she said.
“Boy and girl, Sister,” a student asked with a hint of excitement riding on every word.
While the question had been asked to see if they would be interacting more with their male counterparts, the query remained valid. Clara, however, guessed there were other elements at play, which only a few students present were able to comprehend.
“Generally not, child,” Sister Beatrice said.
The formal pattern of speech had been used to dissuade students from overtly showing their disappointment. This was a serious topic for discussion and thinking about boys did little to help.
“Women are typically paired together. There is no better way to hide then posing as sisters or later on as spinsters,” Sister Beatrice said.
Clara found it odd that the sapphic nature of some of these girls had not been mentioned. Admittedly, those with such inclinations were still considered sinners by the church. There was an obvious advantage to a hunter who was immune to the conventional fare. Clara had an idea on how to explore that aspect without being too obvious.
“So they cannot affect more than one subject at a time, Sister?” Clara asked.
There was a brief hesitation in the Sister’s voice before she replied, “They can, but we ensure the effects of a threat are mitigated ahead of time.”
> Sometimes a non-answer was enough to confirm a hypothesis. Clara would take on the male vampires while her partner would go after the women. It made sense, seeing as they would need a viable subject to be bait. What better way for their partner to strike than when their prey was otherwise occupied?
It also explained Sister Beatrice’s attempt at selling same sex teams. Posing as husband and wife could create complications that would make them vulnerable. One could not afford to be attached to their partners when on the hunt.
Besides, how else could Clara manipulate men for information? It would be difficult to seduce a man if she posed as a married woman or appeared to be spoken for… Well at least for some men.
The Van Helsing Paradox Page 9
