Chapter 2



It's easy to forget the stars.
The ceiling of my fathers study had been a painted mural of mythical beings, surrounded by the warm glow of constellations. I was told my Grandfather had painted the stars himself by my boastful uncles, but I was there. I remembered the paint splashed painters, and the way my Granddad had had trouble simply holding a pencil with his ceaseless fidgeting. It was a nice mental image though; that frazzled, dark wolf, craning from a precarious ladder, reaching with a dripping brush to daub stars onto the ceiling of the room where his sons would keep the museum afloat for years to come. He'd be laughing, flicking paint at people for the hell of it.

I had crossed three blocks before I realised I was crying.
Now don't get me wrong, I wasn't bawling on my hands and knees. I had suddenly noticed the fog that merged the twinkling lights above my head into one, gray miasma, felt the stinging tears dampen my cheeks. I hadn't looked at that ceiling in six years. I forgot how pretty and damn COLD those light's could be. The stars care nothing for the plight's of men.

I sucked in a lungful of chill, fishy air through my nose, grunting and shaking the moisture from my face with a swipe of my sleeve. Luckily I was alone on the narrow street, with only the grinning half-moon and unmoved stars to see my tears. Luckily the air cleared my head a little. I wiped my face with a hankercheif (it's a long way to fall when you start toting about a red, silk hanky) and pushed on down the street. I was curious, I'd never been to Dartford before.

It was a nice little...place. I'm not sure what you would call it, more than a hamlet, less than a city. It's a place to retire to. I could hear the rumble of the Thames even over the ringing in my ears (Tinnitus: another legacy of Granddad). I passed the Holy Trinity Church, a squat, brick and mortar building, the click of my boots on concrete following me. I couldn't see the cathedral from my current vantage, I guess it was hidden by the buildings around me.

It was nice. I took another deep breath of-

Searing pain. The cold sidewalk was gone, my head swam and lines blurred with it. I couldn't think, my ears were screaming, my feet sank deep in the sand. It was so hot, I could only think of getting out. I tried to brace with my hands, but I could feel my hands searing. I fell forward...

***

My eyes opened wide, my cheek pressed to the concrete. The hell? I sucked air into my burning lungs, suddenly realising at some point I had forgotten to breath in. I groaned aloud, my limbs felt like spaghetti.
"Hey...you alright?"

I turned my head. My shoulder hurt like I had fallen on it. Had I fallen? My ears were ringing hard, making my head throb and I felt my muscles seize and contort. I cringed, growling as I rolled onto my back. Something was standing over me. I thought to ask for help, but the shadow apparently didn't take to kindly to me. It reached out and slapped me across the face. Hard.
"Fucking. OW!" Pardon my language but I had found myself apparently crippled on a dirty street, only to be bitch slapped by a random passerby. I wasn't happy.

"Sorry 'bout that." It had a female voice but I'd encountered stranger things, then she moved into the light of a nearby streetlamp. Allow me to simply state: Holy crap.
She wasn't precisely beautiful, I'll say that now, she was a little too odd, but she was mind-numbingly unique. What I could see under the bundles of a teal peacoat with matching trousers, black gloves and boots as worn as mine, and a burgundy scarf around her neck, partly covered by a white mane, was one step short of supernatural. Her face wasn't like any species I knew, and that says a lot, though it had a vulpine quality, but the ears were too long, and I don't remember a fox having horns. They were stylized, ribbed at the end like cogs. Maybe plastic surgery?

Most disconcerting was that fact that, in the shadow of the light above her, her eyes and the half glimpsed, swirling markings, GLOWED. A dim violet spark. My head swam again and I felt close to nausea. and tried to roll away, though I had half a mind to slap her back. 

"Now don't be like that," she sighed, a hint of "petulant child" in her voice, and grabbed me by the arm, hoisting me to my feet with a burst of strength. The speed was too much and I lost the fight with my stomach. My mostly empty stomach spattered onto the damp road. 
Fun.

I heard an "Ewwww" behind me and rounded on my verbal assailant. For all I knew she may have been the reason I was on the ground. To this day I'm not sure what happened. Standing upright, I must have been able to summon enough malice into my crossed eyes, because she took a step back and I saw her hackles go up, the mane around her shoulders bristling. God, she was big too. I'm easily six foot two in my boots, which meant I had maybe two inches on her.

"Who the hell ARE you?" I barked, at a loss for anything else. The side of my head hurt, but I checked and there was no blood. It just really hurt. 
She crossed her arms, and I had another sickening flash of nausea. She looked really familiar, but that couldn't be possible. 
I tasted blood and spat, sure enough I'd bit my tongue at some point. Tasted like old pennies. Not that I'm sure how I'd know that.

She watched my every move silently for a bit. She tugged a hat from her pocket, setting it on her horns. It was a teal beret, I was sensing a pattern about her favorite colors.
Right at the limit of my dazed patience she huffed and waved me toward her. "C'mon, there are places we need to be."

I gawked."Yeah...I think I'll pass, if you don't mind."

She shook her head adamantly."No can do, you really need to come with me, Wilhelm."

Oh hell no. I backed up, stepping into the street and mildly proud that I managed not to trip."I'm not even going to try and figure that one out. I don't know how you know me, Nadezhda, but-" Wait what?
I froze.
She smiled.
My head swam like a drunken fish and I swayed.

The name. From the can. Granddad's can.
"It's not braindamage." she said, apparently trying to reassure me, judging by the tone. She had her hands up, empty and clean. I wasn't reassured."My name is Nadezhda," she confirmed,"I knew your grandfather, for a little while anyway."

"B...before he died?" I mumbled, stopping my retreat.

Her face fell and I could see her mulling it over. Freaking loon, I just wanted to get back to my hotel room. I spat again and caught sight of the steam rising from my blood. I could see my breath too. It got cold awfully fast.

"Please," she said at last."I don't know how to make it any more clear that I need you to trust me."

No. No no no. Nonononononononononono.
"Fine." Idiot!

She beamed, showing me her sharp white teeth and beckoned me after. I followed on stiff legs. Rather than down the street, she made a beeline into an alley at a right angle to the street. I steeled myself to lose a kidney. My liver was half-rotted by Jack Daniels already. Whoops.

She made it half way down before I was hit. Call it cliché but I swear it looked like two G-men rounded the opposite end of the alley. I thought they were with Nadezhda until she flinched and darted back at me. More fun. I should have stayed in my damn room. In my own damn country. I stumbled back, still dazed.
Someone shouted. I lost my balance. 
I heard the clap of a gunshot.
My world went black.
I hate her.