House of Ill Repute

An extract from the journals of Sister Venerae

Pan City, Residential District, POZ

November 11th, V21 (2041 AD)

The streets are empty as I run down them, my sword drawn and ready. The prey is fast and deadly, so I won’t have time to unsheath it when he turns and makes his stand. I keep watch for the cameras that look over me and time my movements to avoid their electronic gaze.

My soft leather boots make no sound on the pavement. The dark clothes I wear hide me from curious eyes, and the Obscuration spell bound into my flesh is active. Not even the prowling cats notice my passing.

There can be no witnesses to the death I must bring this night. I push out my awareness and search for the lines of fate that bind him to me. He is close and he knows he is being pursued.

My name is Venerae, a Sister of the Order of Michael. I am not a nun or a religious acolyte. I am a trained hunter and killer in the service of an Archangel. I do not bring redemption, only release.

Tonight I am hunting an Adept, a practitioner of Magic. He has broken the Covenant under which all Adepts must abide. He has killed innocents and eaten of their flesh.

Yet this is not why he must be brought down. It is because he has risked the exposure of Magic to a world that does not believe it exists. This is the first rule of the Covenant. We must stay hidden from those not of our kind.

My prey is Thomas Porter, an Adept of the Beasts. He can draw upon the animal spirits to use their power. He is young and inexperienced, but the animal spirit he draws from beyond the Boundary is the Wolf. I must be careful, or I shall become the hunted.

A trail of blood drops leads down a darkened alley between two towering apartment blocks. I pause and cast about me. The trail he is leaving me is obvious, dripping from the severed head of his victim deliberately like a trail of breadcrumbs. Porter wants to draw me along, perhaps to some secluded place of ambush.

If I was just a hunter, I would have no choice but to follow. But I am more than that. My family are descended from the Jotun maidens, giants who crossed the Boundary to the world we know. They were tasked with joining with humans and creating a new bloodline.Their descendants are the keepers of fate, the Norns.

I am the Maiden, keeper of the Paths to Come. When I choose to, I can see the possible futures that await all beings. My power reaches out to follow the fate lines of Thomas Porter. The trail he has left me is not the path I shall follow this time. I turn and run past the alley, seeking his true destination.

As I run past the darkened buildings, only a few lights showing at this early hour of the morning, I wonder how many more times it will be before my own path ends. I can see the paths of any being I choose, but I cannot see my own.

All creatures born into this world have a fate, a destiny that their paths ultimately take them towards. It may be a simple life. It may be glorious. Long or short, I can see them all.

Yet I am one of the Unfated. A side effect of my bloodline but there are others like me. No path is set for them. They truly get to choose their own destiny. I will never know what lies ahead for them. Nor can I ever know what my own end will be.

I may live a hundred more years or die tonight. Sometimes I am glad that I do not know. Perhaps that is why the Norns are born fateless. To stop us going mad with knowledge of a future we cannot change.

A small park is to my right, a refuge from the soaring concrete and glass edifices that surround it. Trees line its borders and at one end the grass is adorned with picnic shelters. I step lightly over the grass, keeping in the shadows of the trees. Lights shine down to illuminate the grass playing area, but it is comforting and dark under the spreading bows of the native gum trees.

My senses are attuned to the night air. I open my power once more and feel the crossing lines of destiny. Porter is close, confused why I am not following the trail he has left. I pause, wary now, as his own senses will be heightened. My Obscuration spell won’t deflect his keen sense of smell and hearing. I move forward, my sword held firmly in my right hand, my left palm open with the rune spell tattooed across the flesh ready to be activated.

A dark shape flits into view, crossing my line of sight. He has sensed me and is running for his life. I spur forwards in a rush and burst into the light. My feet are pounding across the grass and I shout his name, hoping to make him pause.

He is already in the shadows at the far edge of the park, hiding amongst the trees. He was much faster than I had expected. I had not realised how much of the wolf aspect he had drawn into himself.

“You can’t run from me, Thomas” I call out. “The Order has passed sentence upon you for breaking the Covenant. If you accept judgement I will make the end as painless as I can”

The shadows shifted and I lifted my blade. He was barely ten metres from me now. I cast out my power and it that instant I realised the truth. It was a Shade, a decoy to draw my attention! I was turning my body, trying to bring my blade or magic to bear when Porter hit me from the side.

He was big, his body well over seven feet tall and hugely muscled. I am six feet tall myself and I felt like a child as he slammed into my side, driving the breath from my lungs and sending the sword spinning away. I crashed to the grass and was stunned for a moment as my head stuck the ground.

His own momentum carried him past me. If it had not been for that his raking foreclaws would have opened me up like his other victims. I pushed myself urgently back to my feet as he surged towards me once more.

I braced my left hand with my right and forced my will into the runic spell on my open palm. A barely visible circle of pale blue light flashed into existence between us as he struck. His strength was incredible and my boots slipped on the dew covered grass. I was forced backwards but kept my footing, holding the man beast at bay.

Porter had drawn so much power from the Wolf that he was barely human anymore. His clothing was in tatters from the transformation, his body and head covered in dark grey fur. His arms ended in long sharp clawed talons and his head was a nightmare of snapping teeth and wild, yellow eyed fury.

My Shield spell was fading already, its protection intended for only short but intense moments in combat. There was little that would pierce it while active, but I only had seconds left. Porter was forcing himself against it, grinning with his huge tooth filled mouth. He knew he would have me as soon as it failed.

I looked to my right and saw my sword was closer now. His push had moved me towards it, barely a body length away. His hot stinking breath was all over me and I could not help but notice his engorged manhood was erect between his muscled legs. It was not just my flesh he wanted to taste this night.

With a shout I released my spell and dropped low to the ground. Porter overbalanced at the sudden loss of resistance and fell to my left as I threw myself to my sword. My hand grabbed the hilt just as I felt his powerful grip latch onto my boot. His claws dug into the soft leather and he growled with a savage hunger as he pulled me towards him.

We were both on the ground, my back sliding across the wet grass as he drew me in. His jaws opened and hot saliva dripped onto my thighs.

“You are mine, Sister” his voice growled deep from within his chest. A huge red tongue flicked out, spattering me with more foul spit.

I had only one answer to that. My right hand held my sword and I poured my power into it.

“Ferro Mortis!” I screamed and the blade flared into blue light. Porter’s eyes narrowed in alarm and I swung upwards, arcing the blade towards his head.

He threw himself backwards, releasing my foot and placing an arm protectively in front of my strike. The sword raked across his forearm, drawing a shower of blood but not cutting deep enough. Porter howled in agony and fury, pulling away and cradling his wounded arm.

I pushed myself back to my feet. My left ankle was a burning pit of fire but I could still stand. My ribs felt badly bruised from his initial hit too. This was not an ideal way to fight a seven foot werewolf. I lifted Ferro Mortis and watched him over its blue light.

“You can still yield to my Judgement” I offered him. I could not afford to show any weakness to Porter. He was too far gone into the madness of the animal spirit.

He grinned hugely at me with his awful teeth. His arm was already sealing up the wound. Beast magic is potent in many ways. I doubted there was much left of Porter’s human mind inside him right now. He just wanted to kill me. And maybe rape me. Then eat me. I was not sure in which order that would occur.

“The Path you have followed ends tonight” I told him and charged forwards. He howled and rushed to meet me, his massive claws swinging wide to envelop me.

At the last instant I let my feet slip out from under me and dropped low to the ground. His massive form leaped over me, his arms closing uselessly on thin air. I took Ferro Mortis in both hands and ripped it savagely across his groin as I passed underneath him.

Blood showered across the grass as I slid to a stop beyond him. I heard his agonised scream as my blade severed something he had not wanted to lose. Once more I got painfully to my feet and turned around. Porter was hunched on the ground, his massive form quivering in pain.

I walked back slowly towards him. His huge head faced to me and his eyes were wide with terror.

“Please…” his voice mewled. My eyes held no pity as I looked down at him. The lights around the park showed the trails of blood our battle had left across the grass. It was a bad ending, but it was his fate. The lines of his destiny all lead to this ending, here and now.

“By the orders of the Bishop of Pan City, you are deemed in violation of the Covenant” I intoned. Ferro Mortis was lifted high, the magic glittering brightly against the night sky.

The sword swept down and Thomas Porter’s head was separated from his body.

I went and sat at one of the picnic tables nearby. My leg ached and I could see blood seeping from tears in the leather. I released the spell over Ferro Mortis and it returned to being a normal broadsword.

It was a good, sturdy sword, nearly one thousand years old. It had been forged by a master swordsmith in the Order of Michael, for use by one of their knights in the first Crusade. I wondered if the maker had ever expected it to still be taking lives so many centuries later.

I took a small cloth from a pouch on my belt and cleaned the blade. It would need to be oiled and sharpened but that was a task for another time. I sheathed it back in the leather scabbard.

The sword had been named long ago. It meant Iron Death, but most of its bearers had called it Iron Killer. Down the length of its blade was carved a potent spell of cleaving. There were few foes that could withstand a blow from Ferro Mortis when it was active.

Porter’s body had reverted to his human form now. His pale white body lay in stark contrast to the blood that surrounded him. I took out my phone and called Bishop Wainwright. He answered immediately.

“It’s done” I said to my superior. “We are going to need a clean-up crew”

“Very well” he replied. “Were there any witnesses?”

I cast out with my power, looking at the myriad lines of fate that crossed and intertwined across the park.

“We are clear” I said and ended the call.