Post by Cloverstar on Jul 12, 2015 21:59:40 GMT -6
So, if you've been on Xat, you've probably seen me talking about a story I've been working on for a while. All I'll say about it for now is that it's intended to be my first serious effort as an author, and I'm planning to send it around to publishers. Keep in mind this is only the first draft for the first chapter, and I'll most likely change a lot of it by the final version. I hope you enjoy regardless.
--
The sky was clouded over the brightly lit city, the moon and most of the stars hidden. Faint cigarette smoke lingered in the air, hanging over the numerous other smells—fast food, trash on the sidewalk, gasoline, blooming flowers here and a whiff of cheap perfume there. Cars and trucks came and went sporadically, the noise of their tires fading as quickly as they had come and gone.
It had been only an hour before dawn when she had left. The color of the sky and the shadows its sun cast onto the ground were her clock. Her feet would have been aching by now if she were human.
Edwina continued to walk. The streets were far from crowded, almost devoid of people. A few still were passing by, however, and she clenched her jaw. She could not afford to be distracted, no matter how deeply the air smelled of human flesh, of sweat and blood...
Focus.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced around, surveying her surroundings carefully. If Amunet’s senses had been accurate, then this would be the correct place.
She took a turn into an alleyway. It was narrow enough for the walls to brush her shoulders, with numerous bits of garbage and litter strewn across the puddle-laden ground. A soda can crumpled under her foot as she walked. Overhead, she could hear the blare of what sounded like a television from a window in the apartment buildings.
After numerous more turns, she finally stepped out onto a much emptier and far more silent street. A few lamp lights cast a faint glow on the pavement, striking piled-together trash cans and parked cars and a motorcycle. The houses themselves stood packed together in narrow rows on the side, some with bushes and shrubs in between as if to provide a boundary.
Near one lamppost gathered the only people she could see out on the street. The group consisted of several young men, one with a rather strange hairstyle that stuck out in a spiked red arc from his head. Tattoos of what looked like snakes and words and snarling animals clearly marked the arms of those who weren’t wearing jackets. They seemed to be invested in a conversation while smoke wafted through the air from their cigarettes, one leaning against the lamppost while the others either were sitting on the curb or leaning against railings beside the houses’ steps.
Her teeth ached and her head began to throb. Edwina hadn’t eaten in hours, and her last meal had been only a measly squirrel too thin to be sufficient. She could smell their blood even from here, the tang of it just hanging in the air, and every muscle in her tensed in her practiced efforts at self-control.
She did not hurt humans, she reminded herself. She did not kill humans, she did not eat them. She was not like the rest of the Syndicate. She ate only animals for their blood. Humans were forbidden. Off-limits. And above all, on this mission, she could not—never—be distracted.
The motorcycle, she noticed, was parked directly next to the man with the spiked hairstyle, who was one of those sitting on the curb as he smoked. The dark chrome gleamed in the light, clearly rather polished with hardly any scratches or marks to be seen, with the keys hanging on its handle.
Edwina steeled herself before striding up purposefully, eyes fixed more on the motorcycle than the men. It was only when she’d reached arm’s length distance of it that she glanced back again at the men and realized that they were now staring at her, conversation ceased.
“Can I help you?” the spiky-haired man asked, clearly annoyed as he blew a puff of smoke.
“I require your motorcycle,” Edwina replied bluntly.
At that, she heard snickering. But she ignored it, gaze set only on the man. His eyebrows scrunched together in response before his expression then shifted, a grin quirking up the corner of his mouth as if she’d told a particularly amusing joke. He took out the cigarette, holding it between two fingers.
“No beating around the bush, huh?” He smirked, leaning back to reach up and grab onto the motorcycle handle. “Sorry, honey. This one’s taken. Might wanna get a taxi instead.”
He noticeably paused. “Unless you want me to give you a ride,” he added, and something about his grin made Edwina’s eyes narrow. She heard several chuckles from the other men.
“No,” she said flatly, moving a hand to her belt. “I do not. I only need your means of transportation.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, then even the motorcycle man joined in the laughter. “That’s cute, honey, real cute. But if you want me to give you a ride somewhere on this, just—”
He stopped short, eyes darting down at her now drawn gun. She aimed the barrel squarely at his nose, finger on the trigger.
“I will repeat myself,” Edwina said, her voice steely. “I require your motorcycle. Now.”
She heard shifting movement among the group behind the man and looked up. They were now sharing expressions alternating between alarm and anger. One particularly tall and large man had gotten out a knife.
The man’s eyes were now widened, his mouth starting to gape. He swallowed. “Look—look, I don’t want any trouble, i-if you want it, then—th—”
She had no time for this. Edwina shoved the gun further, pressing the barrel into his forehead. “The motorcycle,” she repeated coldly. “I—”
The man with the knife lunged, tackling her easily to the ground and stabbing downwards at her shoulder. She felt a brief tinge of what could be called pain, if it weren’t so slight, as she hit the ground with gun still in hand.
The knife’s handle was now sticking out of her shoulder, the blade buried too deeply into the skin to be seen. In one fluid movement, she yanked it out and shoved it into the man’s arm. He let out a scream, jerking back, and she took the chance to pull her knee upwards, slamming it between his legs to knock him away.
All of the men were now standing, watching her and on guard. She calmly got to her feet, brushing a strand of dark hair back behind her ear before she aimed the gun again. Dimly, she was aware of the hole in her shoulder slowly resealing. The man was groaning in pain on the ground behind her.
Edwina had no more time to waste. More humans could be coming onto the street at any second, and she had a mission. She shot at the nearest man and he yelped, collapsing to the ground. She stepped closer to him, pressing the gun’s barrel to the back of his neck as he lay, clutching his leg and groaning, on the ground.
“The keys,” she said, her voice a monotone as she inclined her head towards the motorcycle. “Or I shoot him again.”
There was no hesitation. The motorcycle owner, shaking and gaping, fumbled as he took the keys off of the handle and tossed them to her. She caught them effortlessly, her free hand closing into a fist around them.
Without another word, Edwina moved away from the man and towards the motorcycle. She swung one leg over the seat, inserting the keys into the ignition. She paused only to brush the back of her coat behind her before setting her feet on the pedals. She heard more movements of the men as they went to help up the ones she’d left on the ground. She heard the hasty dialing of a phone, but she paid it no mind.
There was no more time to lose. She would not disappoint Victorina.
Edwina rode off.
--
The sky was clouded over the brightly lit city, the moon and most of the stars hidden. Faint cigarette smoke lingered in the air, hanging over the numerous other smells—fast food, trash on the sidewalk, gasoline, blooming flowers here and a whiff of cheap perfume there. Cars and trucks came and went sporadically, the noise of their tires fading as quickly as they had come and gone.
It had been only an hour before dawn when she had left. The color of the sky and the shadows its sun cast onto the ground were her clock. Her feet would have been aching by now if she were human.
Edwina continued to walk. The streets were far from crowded, almost devoid of people. A few still were passing by, however, and she clenched her jaw. She could not afford to be distracted, no matter how deeply the air smelled of human flesh, of sweat and blood...
Focus.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced around, surveying her surroundings carefully. If Amunet’s senses had been accurate, then this would be the correct place.
She took a turn into an alleyway. It was narrow enough for the walls to brush her shoulders, with numerous bits of garbage and litter strewn across the puddle-laden ground. A soda can crumpled under her foot as she walked. Overhead, she could hear the blare of what sounded like a television from a window in the apartment buildings.
After numerous more turns, she finally stepped out onto a much emptier and far more silent street. A few lamp lights cast a faint glow on the pavement, striking piled-together trash cans and parked cars and a motorcycle. The houses themselves stood packed together in narrow rows on the side, some with bushes and shrubs in between as if to provide a boundary.
Near one lamppost gathered the only people she could see out on the street. The group consisted of several young men, one with a rather strange hairstyle that stuck out in a spiked red arc from his head. Tattoos of what looked like snakes and words and snarling animals clearly marked the arms of those who weren’t wearing jackets. They seemed to be invested in a conversation while smoke wafted through the air from their cigarettes, one leaning against the lamppost while the others either were sitting on the curb or leaning against railings beside the houses’ steps.
Her teeth ached and her head began to throb. Edwina hadn’t eaten in hours, and her last meal had been only a measly squirrel too thin to be sufficient. She could smell their blood even from here, the tang of it just hanging in the air, and every muscle in her tensed in her practiced efforts at self-control.
She did not hurt humans, she reminded herself. She did not kill humans, she did not eat them. She was not like the rest of the Syndicate. She ate only animals for their blood. Humans were forbidden. Off-limits. And above all, on this mission, she could not—never—be distracted.
The motorcycle, she noticed, was parked directly next to the man with the spiked hairstyle, who was one of those sitting on the curb as he smoked. The dark chrome gleamed in the light, clearly rather polished with hardly any scratches or marks to be seen, with the keys hanging on its handle.
Edwina steeled herself before striding up purposefully, eyes fixed more on the motorcycle than the men. It was only when she’d reached arm’s length distance of it that she glanced back again at the men and realized that they were now staring at her, conversation ceased.
“Can I help you?” the spiky-haired man asked, clearly annoyed as he blew a puff of smoke.
“I require your motorcycle,” Edwina replied bluntly.
At that, she heard snickering. But she ignored it, gaze set only on the man. His eyebrows scrunched together in response before his expression then shifted, a grin quirking up the corner of his mouth as if she’d told a particularly amusing joke. He took out the cigarette, holding it between two fingers.
“No beating around the bush, huh?” He smirked, leaning back to reach up and grab onto the motorcycle handle. “Sorry, honey. This one’s taken. Might wanna get a taxi instead.”
He noticeably paused. “Unless you want me to give you a ride,” he added, and something about his grin made Edwina’s eyes narrow. She heard several chuckles from the other men.
“No,” she said flatly, moving a hand to her belt. “I do not. I only need your means of transportation.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, then even the motorcycle man joined in the laughter. “That’s cute, honey, real cute. But if you want me to give you a ride somewhere on this, just—”
He stopped short, eyes darting down at her now drawn gun. She aimed the barrel squarely at his nose, finger on the trigger.
“I will repeat myself,” Edwina said, her voice steely. “I require your motorcycle. Now.”
She heard shifting movement among the group behind the man and looked up. They were now sharing expressions alternating between alarm and anger. One particularly tall and large man had gotten out a knife.
The man’s eyes were now widened, his mouth starting to gape. He swallowed. “Look—look, I don’t want any trouble, i-if you want it, then—th—”
She had no time for this. Edwina shoved the gun further, pressing the barrel into his forehead. “The motorcycle,” she repeated coldly. “I—”
The man with the knife lunged, tackling her easily to the ground and stabbing downwards at her shoulder. She felt a brief tinge of what could be called pain, if it weren’t so slight, as she hit the ground with gun still in hand.
The knife’s handle was now sticking out of her shoulder, the blade buried too deeply into the skin to be seen. In one fluid movement, she yanked it out and shoved it into the man’s arm. He let out a scream, jerking back, and she took the chance to pull her knee upwards, slamming it between his legs to knock him away.
All of the men were now standing, watching her and on guard. She calmly got to her feet, brushing a strand of dark hair back behind her ear before she aimed the gun again. Dimly, she was aware of the hole in her shoulder slowly resealing. The man was groaning in pain on the ground behind her.
Edwina had no more time to waste. More humans could be coming onto the street at any second, and she had a mission. She shot at the nearest man and he yelped, collapsing to the ground. She stepped closer to him, pressing the gun’s barrel to the back of his neck as he lay, clutching his leg and groaning, on the ground.
“The keys,” she said, her voice a monotone as she inclined her head towards the motorcycle. “Or I shoot him again.”
There was no hesitation. The motorcycle owner, shaking and gaping, fumbled as he took the keys off of the handle and tossed them to her. She caught them effortlessly, her free hand closing into a fist around them.
Without another word, Edwina moved away from the man and towards the motorcycle. She swung one leg over the seat, inserting the keys into the ignition. She paused only to brush the back of her coat behind her before setting her feet on the pedals. She heard more movements of the men as they went to help up the ones she’d left on the ground. She heard the hasty dialing of a phone, but she paid it no mind.
There was no more time to lose. She would not disappoint Victorina.
Edwina rode off.
