City of Stone and Glass

Sneak Peak

She sat on the thin branch. Legs drawn beneath her, braced against the trunk. Flickering irises gleamed, battling lilac and amber as she craned forward. Internal beasts scrambled desperately. Cold moonlight pooled over her, winking in the reflection of the small blade she rotated distractedly in her fingers. An equally frigid breeze entangled in her hair.

Her branched skyscraper creaked, protesting indignantly as the branches rattled uneasily with each shove of the wind. Standing daringly on the cliff edge, a dry riverbed– a fossil of what it once was, split the land in two beneath her combat boots.

A skeleton of its former self on the opposite summit, was an abandoned chalet. Boarded windows with a gaping hole in the roof. Made of nothing but shadows and dust. Nestled in the surrounded forestry perfectly, hidden from curious eyes.

Clandestine as the chalet, the woman was a shadow melting from the tree as she strained to the branch end. Weightlessly, she stalked on the flimsy wood until she dangled over the gaping canyon– leapt as a lemur. The wind carried her easily. With a precision of a bullet. For a moment, she was suspended in the air until the tree caught her, thrusting her body forward into the trunk. Air shoved from her lungs. Her stomach pressed against the bark, the belt's buckle digging into her skin. Clinging like a simian, her weight shifted onto her side to free the simple clip-point dagger strapped to her thigh. The branch under her hand snapped.

Her wrist snapped forward, blade puncturing the wood– shoulder jolting at the sudden halt. She hissed under her breath. Ignoring the pulsing pain, she pulled onto the thin limb closest. Eyed the eerier building.

It could have been a painting.

The still air as not even the wind dared to touch it. Moonlight gently illuminated through the cracks of the logs that gleamed like clean bones. Booted feet directed to the back of the building. Predatory eyes found what had once been a greenhouse, glass painted green with age and mould. Humid air pressed into her back, neglected plants lining the edges as dead leaves littered the ground like dismembered limbs. Pots and trays lay in a maze, leaves crunching beneath her shoes as she carefully picked her path.

Reflected in the grimed window were her molten eyes as she reached the back wall– a thick curtain draped over the doorway into the chalet's main body. Slipping behind the moth-eaten fabric into the frigid cold of the chalet, she gratefully welcomed the chill as her crimson hair stuck to the back of her neck. The skin of her bare legs tingled, high-sitting shorts tucked to the top of her thighs. Hidden beneath her inky camisole, a garland of armaments around her waistline.

Exploring dank hallways and buildings never intimidated her. Inner beasts hummed beneath her skin, shifting and sliding. A dangerous malice shone beneath the hungry amber gaze running over the dark caging walls around her. Always check the ceiling, she reminded sternly, gaze casting up to the concaved ceiling. Punctured by a long-burnt out chandelier. It wasn't a large chalet, one of the smaller dens she had infiltrated. But it was one of the cleaner ones. She discovered what was once a kitchen with only a fridge remaining, cupboards gutted into the floor– vampires had no need for a microwave, she supposed.

Skirting the room edges, the amber torches of her eyes vanquished her need for light. She slipped through two pathetically held splintered doors, hinges pitifully weak.

A short table blocked her path, draped in what was once a white cloth, littered in flatware from an interrupted meal. Drip. Toppled glasses balanced on the edges, shattered on the ground. Footprints of mud– or dried blood– stained the floor and tablecloth. Drip. Her ears would have twitched. Drip. Water leaked slowly, landing in a single wine glass– unmoved for years nor the leak fixed as it was now half-full.