wood, it strengthens then and remains entirely
inanimate.”
“You’re positive
about this?”
“Yes, we have been
testing it on bullet proof vests for the last year. Some of my
staff are over there handing them.” He pointed.
Mr Crombie looked.
True to his word, the workers were handling the armour with bare
hands. He could tell they were made of the same freakish element
because it boasted the same shade of dark coppery brown.
“I think you are
investing in the wrong area Mr Trotsky.” Mr Crombie said, turning
back to the taller man.
“How so?” Rufus
asked, curious.
Mr Crombie looked
to him, a greedy glint in his eye, “You should not be making armour
and other strengthened materials. You should be building
weapons.”
******
The homeless man
jumped back in fright. He had been sitting quietly in a back
street, nestled between his trolley and some bins, drinking his
whiskey and minding his own business when a body fell from the sky
a short distance away. He leant forward, gazing at the body and
then at the sky. He couldn’t see anyone on the buildings
overlooking the street. Picking up the two bin bags closest to him,
he shuffled over to the naked corpse. Squinting, he realised it was
a young man. Knowing better than to hang around for when the police
showed up, he took off along the alleyway. He did not want to be
blamed for someone else’s murder, nor did he want to be involved.
As his footfalls retreated, a shadow descended from the sky. It was
large and dark, almost impossible to see against the night.
Landing, it rolled itself up, resolving into the figure of a man.
He crouched down next to the corpse, he the living reflection of
the man who lay dead in the street. He smirked at his handy work.
He had managed to steal the life force of this victim without
leaving any marks of scars. “Thanks.” He whispered, before turning
away and heading off into the dark.
“Can I help you?”
asked one of the two men standing at the door. He was heavily set,
bald and built like a bulldog. His friend, just as large but just
that little bit shorter looked as if he would snap Edward within a
seconds notice.
Edward
raised a hand. Both men stiffened, their arms falling to their
sides. They groaned as their eyes turned black and they lost all
control. “It is me .” He nearly
spat in impatience. Giving a sharp wave of the hand, he freed them
from his grasp.
One of the men
stumbled as he landed heavily on his feet, coughing for breath. His
mate was also gasping heavily, hand pressed against his neck as if
he had just been released from a very tight noose. “Sir...sorry...”
he gasped. Stepping back, he gave a half-hearted gesture for the
man to enter. He was to out of breath to pay due reverence. Edward
stormed past them without further word.
Inside he found a
young woman sitting alone, modifying a weapon. Seeing him her eyes
widened – she knew who it was despite his recent change in
appearance. “Where have you been?” she demanded as she stood,
abandoning the weapon.
He smirked,
looking around the dank, deserted lair. “Feeding.” He replied
bluntly.
“You have been
gone for three nights!”
His dark eyes
fixed on her. “Do not speak to me like that ever again.” He warned,
“Or you’ll be next.”
Visibly shaken by
the threat, the woman lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, but things have
not been going well here and I had not heard anything from you, I
was starting to get worried...”
“I take it the two
men we hired failed?”
He glanced around
the empty cellar as if it needed an explanation. “I don’t see any
of them here nor do I see the head of Terryfallo or her uncle.” He
said, his gaze returning to meet her.
She looked down
uneasily. “I think them.”
He laughed; a
hideous, humourless sound. “Well of course she did. She is an
Alchemist. They were human.”
The young woman
appeared puzzled. “Then what did you hire them for?”
The man
straightened his collar in reflection
inanimate.”
“You’re positive
about this?”
“Yes, we have been
testing it on bullet proof vests for the last year. Some of my
staff are over there handing them.” He pointed.
Mr Crombie looked.
True to his word, the workers were handling the armour with bare
hands. He could tell they were made of the same freakish element
because it boasted the same shade of dark coppery brown.
“I think you are
investing in the wrong area Mr Trotsky.” Mr Crombie said, turning
back to the taller man.
“How so?” Rufus
asked, curious.
Mr Crombie looked
to him, a greedy glint in his eye, “You should not be making armour
and other strengthened materials. You should be building
weapons.”
******
The homeless man
jumped back in fright. He had been sitting quietly in a back
street, nestled between his trolley and some bins, drinking his
whiskey and minding his own business when a body fell from the sky
a short distance away. He leant forward, gazing at the body and
then at the sky. He couldn’t see anyone on the buildings
overlooking the street. Picking up the two bin bags closest to him,
he shuffled over to the naked corpse. Squinting, he realised it was
a young man. Knowing better than to hang around for when the police
showed up, he took off along the alleyway. He did not want to be
blamed for someone else’s murder, nor did he want to be involved.
As his footfalls retreated, a shadow descended from the sky. It was
large and dark, almost impossible to see against the night.
Landing, it rolled itself up, resolving into the figure of a man.
He crouched down next to the corpse, he the living reflection of
the man who lay dead in the street. He smirked at his handy work.
He had managed to steal the life force of this victim without
leaving any marks of scars. “Thanks.” He whispered, before turning
away and heading off into the dark.
“Can I help you?”
asked one of the two men standing at the door. He was heavily set,
bald and built like a bulldog. His friend, just as large but just
that little bit shorter looked as if he would snap Edward within a
seconds notice.
Edward
raised a hand. Both men stiffened, their arms falling to their
sides. They groaned as their eyes turned black and they lost all
control. “It is me .” He nearly
spat in impatience. Giving a sharp wave of the hand, he freed them
from his grasp.
One of the men
stumbled as he landed heavily on his feet, coughing for breath. His
mate was also gasping heavily, hand pressed against his neck as if
he had just been released from a very tight noose. “Sir...sorry...”
he gasped. Stepping back, he gave a half-hearted gesture for the
man to enter. He was to out of breath to pay due reverence. Edward
stormed past them without further word.
Inside he found a
young woman sitting alone, modifying a weapon. Seeing him her eyes
widened – she knew who it was despite his recent change in
appearance. “Where have you been?” she demanded as she stood,
abandoning the weapon.
He smirked,
looking around the dank, deserted lair. “Feeding.” He replied
bluntly.
“You have been
gone for three nights!”
His dark eyes
fixed on her. “Do not speak to me like that ever again.” He warned,
“Or you’ll be next.”
Visibly shaken by
the threat, the woman lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, but things have
not been going well here and I had not heard anything from you, I
was starting to get worried...”
“I take it the two
men we hired failed?”
He glanced around
the empty cellar as if it needed an explanation. “I don’t see any
of them here nor do I see the head of Terryfallo or her uncle.” He
said, his gaze returning to meet her.
She looked down
uneasily. “I think them.”
He laughed; a
hideous, humourless sound. “Well of course she did. She is an
Alchemist. They were human.”
The young woman
appeared puzzled. “Then what did you hire them for?”
The man
straightened his collar in reflection
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