Chapter 5: Chapter 5: And the Cloisters Shook

Standing in the bathroom, a bottle of peroxide set against the toothbrushes and shaving cream, Clara took scissors to her now blonde hair. Hana and Mary, upon leaving their nest, had received the news with grim faces. They’d demanded she’d stay inside. To hell with that nonsense. If she had to look like Jemma for her freedom, it was a small price to pay. After one final rinse to remove the loose hairs, the vampire looked herself over with approval. Oh yes, she was quite the debunker. Vampires did have reflections. There was no reliable way to detect a vampire save agitating their hunger. Then the fangs would come out to play.

She stepped from the bathroom with a towel running over her hair, pulling her tank top from the towel rack she’d flung it onto. She now sported a fair-haired pixie cut, a far cry from her original mousy librarian look. Taking a thin plastic package from her bed, she first pulled the false tattoos over her arms before adding a T-shirt to hide the seams. The tank top went into a hamper as Clara checked her arms. They wouldn’t convince anyone up close but should dissuade the well-meaning observer.

As Clara descended the stairs, she heard Eddie quietly talking with her hostesses. Though she strained to hear, they promptly fell silent as she reluctantly rounded the corner. Hana met her gaze with suspicious eyes. Mary waved her down with an invitation, citing good news as Clara complied. Eddie raised a sceptical eyebrow. He wore the full police regalia, radio quietly mumbling as he stood in the hall.

“It’s ‘bout yer ghost gal.” Eddie grunted with a thumb in his mouth, chewing at the nail. He seemed to steel himself against something before continuing. “We got a friend. Practitioner. Reads into dreams an’ the like. She wants t’meet you.” He explained in short order, words coming through tight lips as if each syllable had been fished from his throat. Whatever force compelled him to speak, it seemed Hana was intent on being the trawler net for this information.

“If we take Eddie’s car, most people won’t give it a second glance. We can get there and back before supper, hopefully.” The petite vampire observed nonchalantly before checking her purse and walking toward the cruiser outside. Clara felt a momentary panic. Swallowing her indecision, she asked why now. “Said it was an emergency, didn’t you? From what I hear, we got you a professional faster than UK ER would.” She quipped before leaving the rest of them in the hall. Mary gave the newer vampire an apologetic look before following her lover to the car with words of reprimand on her lips. That left both Clara and Eddie with a stolen moment. A moment which saw a chill spread between them.

“You wouldn’t happen to know whose bright idea it was to spread my picture all over town, would you?” The blue-eyed woman asked with a dangerous tone. Ordinarily, the veteran vampire hunter and certified brick shithouse Eddie would have laughed at the threat, Clara imagined. Something held him back as his face contorted with conflicted emotions. He looked to his radio briefly before silencing it. Then he looked to her with solemn eyes.

“I’ve been ordered not to disclose anythin’ about the precinct to you.” He said with a firm yet consequential tone. Clara was taken aback, regretting her aggression almost instantly. She mumbled an apology, head hung in shame as a hand rested against her forehead. “I know it’s hard to trust. ‘Specially with what’s been goin’ on. But the girls and me? We’re friends. We’ll always do right by you.” He reassured as he walked over to place a hand on his guest’s shoulder. She gave him an appreciative look before Mary hollered as to what the holdup was. Eddie met her eyes, an understanding passing between them before they fixed their best smiles in place, walking out of the house shortly after. Eddie not only locked the door but also hung a bone charm from the lintel of the door. Must be to deter more spooky visitors, Clara thought to herself as she slid into the front seat of the patrol car. Hana and Mary had taken the back, the former’s head resting on her girlfriend’s muscular shoulder. They looked cute together. Maybe a Mary was out there for her, somewhere. Worse, she could be like Cavendish and demanded five Marys.

The ride through the city was disconcerting. The rain that had been threatening to pour yesterday now deluged itself upon the poor city of New Orleans. Its roads ran with floods, people battling the weather with only umbrellas and coats as armour. Their journey was also notable by its silence, not even the lovers daring to speak up over trivial matters. The atmosphere set their charge on edge as she considered what this meant. Was she dying? Did the creepy, red-eyed vampire signal that you had seven days? It was also odd that of all the vampires she’d seen, the woman’s eyes were the only supernatural ones. She didn’t even know it was a vampire. She felt it was.

After a considerable time, they came to rest outside a quaint house set near the edges of the city. The windows were boarded, the garden unkempt with a rusting gate barely clinging to its hinges. As they left the patrol car, Clara saw that the gate had new hinges. As they walked the garden path, she noticed it had been swept. The overgrown grasses and flowers turned out to be various herbs. Some she even recognized. Quite a few, actually. She fumbled at the names while Eddie knocked at the door, receiving only a stern sod off from the other side. A woman who sounded to be on the younger side of things, though definitely fully grown. The huge man sighed, rain bouncing off his police-issued cagoule before he abruptly began to sing. He wasn’t half bad, as he recited the first few bars of A Modern Major-General. He even made a valiant attempt at imitating Clara’s accent, though it deviated from the typical posh British accent somewhat.

“Alright, alright, stop your bawling. Come in.” A voice came from behind the door. Several clicks followed, along with the rasping of a chain. With a final click of the doorknob being turned, the occupant was revealed.

She was a middle-aged woman, sizeable in her proportions with frizzy hair and thick glasses perched on her nose. She wore a dark yellow dress that reached her shins, which had been sheathed in similar shoes to Clara’s own. Though more for gardening than making a statement, given the amount of mud on her. She’d spoken with what the vampire thought to be a Great Lakes-area accent, which set her anxiety to new heights. Everything she knew about Michigan and its environs had always made her uncomfortable. Even less now that she knew of Livia.

“You must be the loony.” The woman stared up at Clara, who was considerably taller than her. It was no great achievement, given the woman probably didn’t crack five foot three. “Come in, I don’t have all day.” She waved them over before entering the dark confines of the cottage, such as it was. Sharing a look with Mary, the group entered the witch’s house with a certain consternation. Clara because she didn’t know what she’d face. The rest because the woman was insufferable.

What greeted them was a hovel about what she’d expected. Bookshelves hoarded tomes of every description from what appeared to be spell books to steamy novels she’d pilfered from somewhere. Three low armchairs sat in the den they’d walked into, set with knitted throw rugs and an electric fire that sent waves of warmth into the already heated room. Piles of cushions so deep Clara was afraid she’d drown in them sat on and around the armchairs while their ostensible doctor rummaged in the kitchenette she’d made into her personal brewery, with a literal cauldron rolling on a dinky gas stove that had seen better days. Their eyes followed her from yellow cabinet to the sink, where she’d presumably stored what she was looking for. Moments later she pulled two bottles with a shout of triumph from within, scurrying back to them with a wave and order to sit down. Clara sank into one of the armchairs, eyes still searching the old Victorian-style round portraits of people who might have been her relatives, given the universal bad eyesight.

“Right. Drink this then this. They’ll help me see if someone’s messing with your noodle.” The witch ordered, giving Clara one murky potion then one that appeared to be rum. She then seemed to remember something just as the vampire popped the cap with a concerned look to Mary, who reassured her. “I’m Irene by the way. With any luck we’ll never meet again.”

Clara drank the first phial with a gag, pulling a face. She drank the second out of sheer relief effort than any ulterior purpose. As it hit her tongue, her suspicions were confirmed. It was rum and it did a terrible job of removing the acrid, earthy taste that now coated her mouth. Even a second swig along with swishing didn’t put a dent in it. She looked up to Irene with a pleading expression who simply shrugged in response with a taut smile. She felt no different, though the witch’s movements told her otherwise. She picked up one of her tomes and casually flicked to a page, reciting the spell therein. Kicking over a pile of cushions, she revealed a well-worn ritual circle. Clara resisted the urge to ask whether this was a common enough occurrence to justify drawing on the floor.

The air above the circle shimmered briefly before the image of the woman appeared as if she were a mirage. The same smirking expression, same cavernous sockets. Hana gasped, pointing to the creature with disgust on her face. The question of what it was left her lips before Mary could even think to soothe her. Irene, who seemed unperturbed by her spell, looked it up and down with a sniff. Her lips were pouted in thought, as if she’d been sucking on lemons.

“So good news is, I don’t have to call the guys in white coats. Bad news is this is a spell.” Irene commented as she circled the creature like a cat around a laser pointer. Her eyes shone with curiosity, a small smile parting her lips. “Now what the hell are you?” She chuckled, staring the creature in the eyes as she pondered aloud.

Its eyes turned to her.

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The whole room took a step back, even Clara who practically leapt onto the cushion mound. Irene’s eyes looked over the creature with a fearful breath before it began to smile. A hideous, cruel smile filled with sharp wolf-like teeth. As they looked on, her eyes began to grow more prominent. From the red pinpricks, they became full eyeballs in dark-ringed sockets, as if she hadn’t slept for months. Then she was gone.

“Someone put a god damn monster in your head!” Irene shivered with a disgusted expression and a lip curled. She then seemed to get a grip on herself, sitting down and rubbing her temple. Clara’s eyes held on the witch expectantly, almost pleadingly. “Didn’t get a good enough look. Shouldn’t look at something that looks back. According to my friends, and I use that term loosely, you saw this thing out in the city.” The older woman paused for confirmation, which Clara gave with a nod. “Alright. I got a theory. Just a theory. It shows up whenever you do something that the person who made the spell wants. Could be finding them, could be driving you nuts, could be anything. So, if you see it again, note it in your little book. We need more info, and I don’t fancy my chances if we prod it too much.” She instructed before sighing and relaxing back into her armchair. Eddie rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully.

“I don’ like the facts. Way too much shit goin’ on around you, cher.” He grumbled with an anxious look toward Clara. The vampire sat with her knees curled against her chest, eyes fixated on the floor. She tried to think of some solution, some shadow of her past that might indicate what the spell was. All she heard were unfamiliar voices, contorted people and unfamiliar rooms that she thought probably sat back in Blighty. “You’ve been a big help, Irene. We’ll tell you if anythin’ changes. ‘Til then.” He excused them with trepidation in his lips. He firmly gripped Clara’s shoulder in solidarity. The blue-eyed woman stood automatically.

She followed the trio to the patrol car with an empty stare, frustration building. Every step of the investigation only bore more questions. She parsed through the pages of her darkened history, staring at the shadows upon the wall. As she was driven back to the house, she fixated upon the burning smell that had preceded consequential events. Meeting Sam, going to Cavendish. Whenever she met an old vampire, the scent was there. Her memories were filled with many faces, indistinct with their voices muffled. Many were women, she noticed that much.

As she arrived at her new home, she immediately made her way to the garden. Mary and Hana left her to brood, knowing that the news probably weighed heavily. Eddie had to return to the precinct where more mysterious orders and special summons likely waited. She trusted him, Clara thought. But it was a far cry from trusting him to trusting whatever creature had employed him and the police.

She sat beneath an oak tree, looking up at its distinctive leaves with weary eyes. She wished more than anything she could drink herself to sleep. But she lacked the money to drink Mary and Hana out of house and home. Instead, she settled for wallowing in her misery. The walls of circumstance had closed in. She felt all escape routes close off, fanged smiles crowding around her. When she eventually opened her eyes, night had fallen over her head. She felt no chill from the night, righting herself and standing to go inside. She could finish napping in an actual bed.

Clara’s ear twitched instinctually. There had been the merest breath from a large creature. She turned to the source of the noise, grabbing a fallen branch. She could take a gunshot as a vampire. At least she thought so. A human wasn’t going to take a crack across the head from her.

“Get the fuck out the bushes and get the fuck off the property. I won’t ask twice.” Clara sighed contemptuously. She was done with strange visitations and visions. The next sinister caller was getting their spine tied into a slipknot.

“And here I heard American hospitality was world-renowned.” Said the accented voice of the nun, who emerged from the bush with her hands held aloft. A truce, a trick? Did the church even allow perfidy? Weird word.

“Do I sound like a yank to you? What are you even doing here?” Clara asked irritably as she shouldered her branch. The nun had appeared before her without her clobber from the other night, preferring a modest black dress and crucifix hanging from her neck. An excellent strangulation tool if she got too aggressive. Though she didn’t even seem to have a handgun, something Mary had informed her was basically a popgun to a vampire.

“Well, you’ll notice I’m unarmed. I’m alone.” She smiled innocently, twirling in place before reaching into one of the pockets she’d sewn into her dress, by the amateurish stitching. “Well except for this. It’ll stop the vampire hearing me.” The nun explained with a meaningful look towards the house as she held a charm constructed of bones and bronze wire. A series of letters had been etched into the bone. Etchings Clara could read, almost as cleanly as if they were English. Signifiers of protection, nullification and rebuttal. It was what she claimed it to be. Her eyes met the vampire’s with a broad smile. “You recognize them, don’t you?” She asked with an infuriatingly knowing air.

“You better start providing answers or I’m going to drain you like a bottle of whiskey.” Clara curled a lip, her temper fraying given the events of the last few days. She was tired of the coy actors, the smug smiles and condescending instructions. That same feeling that had manifested with Sam now manifested again as rage, clawing itself free of the darkest parts of her mind. She raised a fist instinctively, unsure what she’d do with it. The nun negligently uttered a few words, sending the vampire prone with a buffet of wind from a spell.

“While I can understand your frustration and probable drunkenness, please be civil. I am here as a friend.” The nun reached out with a camaraderie the vampire did not reciprocate. Her eyes were oddly unenthused, distant from the hatred she’d shown before. “I have come to give you an invitation. Come to the local church. I have convinced my superiors that you deserve some answers. After that, you can make up your own mind.”

Clara could have laughed. A more obvious trap she couldn’t imagine. She looked the nun over incredulously before getting to her feet. The nun seemingly had balls of steel. She didn’t so much as flinch as the vampire stood a hand’s width away, hungry eyes looking down at her.

“From the looks of me I didn’t like the church when I was alive. You think I’m going to trust Van Hellsing’s great granddaughter now I’m dead?” Clara spat with a challenging glare. The nun returned her enmity with equal enthusiasm, straining against the truce she’d imposed upon herself.

“I’m trying to save you from yourself. You cannot be left alone in this state.” The nun growled before turning her back in a small, frustrated pacing circle. She seemingly concluded her thoughts as she turned one final time to meet Clara’s eyes. “If you don’t trust me, fine. But don’t trust Cavendish or his lackeys. Ask him why the precinct is publishing your photo.” She advised meaningfully before hoping the fence with an agility that surprised the Brit. As signs of good faith went, that was pretty substantial to her.

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