The more I lied to myself, the more I tried to act like everything was okay, and I wasn’t on the list the soldiers had. Magic was forbidden, and to be magical, well, that only ended with a one-way trip.
Dusk marked the vampire hour, and close to curfew.
Most recently, a band of ruffians had attacked the Elven soldiers, and now they responded with vampires and solar-powered robotic dogs. I’d even heard they’d launched drone-like birds that caught those hiding, even under concrete and metal. Nothing could be hidden in this world, and no savior was coming to get humanity out of this mess.
Taking a steeling breath, I pushed through the fear that tickled at the back of my skull.
I was privileged enough to be able to walk aboveground. Not all could still inhale fresh, polluted air, or be allowed to view the moon’s rising.
Wasn’t that what it was supposed to be when the invader became the Overlords? The simplest freedoms were ripped away and replaced with brutality. I tried to ignore the screams of a woman snatched right off the street and thrown into the back of a hovering police van—hmm, that was new.
Squinting, I noticed just a few feet away stood an armed group of five tall elven guards, decked out in black riot gear—emblazoned with a fiery V on their chests. Unlike other guards, this was an elite vampire unit, according to their insignia. But one could never tell as their faces were also covered with black-and-blue light, glowing inside.
“You,” one called out and went to pull a woman out of the pedestrian mass, who walked a few steps in front of me.
I watched.
“No,” she screamed, and as the soldiers went for her, she quickly produced an encircling cerulean blue magical force field, and while holding it with one hand, light sizzled from her fingertips, zapping the soldiers coming closer.
But they didn’t stop, as if what they wore was magic resistant, or at least to her magic.
“Athena,” she screamed, begging, and the guards laughed in response.
“She thinks the gods will listen.” Out of the hovering police van, a soldier in the same black riot gear stepped, but his insignia was in white glyphs. He raised his gloved hand—the fingertips glowed gold, and the glyphs on his chest lit up, swirling with the same cerulean, mixing with cobalt and silver. The brighter they grew, the more the woman seemed to struggle with keeping the force field stable, until it flickered and collapsed, and she fell to her knees.
“Looks like your goddess was busy.” I heard one of the guards say, pushing down on the woman’s shoulder to keep her from moving.
And just like that, the magic-user was shackled with neon-glowing handcuffs, rumored to stop any magical—either active or latent—use. The visible skin on the woman’s arms puckered with pus-filled boils. The malefic rash, if not treated, was deadly.
“Yes, she is otherworldly,” the Elf guard confirmed.
Otherworldly was the derogatory term they used to dehumanize magic wielders. A way to separate them from their humanity.
I caught her pain-filled gaze, and the Elf guard and two of his vampire cronies dragged her toward the back of the police van.
“Another shitless rebel,” a guard snarked.
“Another rebel who falls. The intel was right. Hail the Overlord. Hail the Elves.”
I walked on, steadying my step, forcing my rigid gait to ease. Vertigo threatened to undo me.
I still had a delivery to make.
Chapter Four
Rounding the bend, I moved toward one of the entries to the subterranean Shanty Town entrances. Swiping my card, I moved through the gate and bounded down the stairs. The countdown to curfew could mean the difference between being caught and living another day.
With the lack of natural sunlight, electric signs glowed, flickered, and popped. Overhead lighting on exposed wiring hung carelessly and swung with the slightest of vibrations.
The stench of sweat, urine, and human and animal feces intermingled with that of street fried foods and exotic spices. Before, Richmond had been a multicultural city filled with people from every walk of life, and just like above, the same as below. The caste system wasn’t based on the color of one’s skin, but one’s economic wealth and usefulness. The impoverished before was still the impoverished now.
The financial wealth was only a part of the caste system, though, and everyone wanted to rise higher to escape what it meant to be part of the five tiers, scaled A through F.
And that meant even snitching to get ahead. It was something I always needed to be cautious of, but tonight there was no time to zigzag. With only a couple of minutes to spare, I had to make my delivery and return to my allotted tier in time.
Unlike above ground, I raced through these narrow and maze-like aisles until I found Madam Petulia’s aluminum sheet-made shop.
A voice interrupted me. “You got something for me, miss?” She peeked up at me with dirt on her pox face. She stretched out her hand, begging.
I recognized the marks on her arms, the washed-out gaunt fiend’s face. But she was only one of a couple who loitered around.
I’d known Madam Petulia, the once-renowned psychic, for years. How she’d managed to remain free after having her face, name, and number plastered all over everything for years remained a mystery to me.
Madam Petulia Poultices, at least that was what she called them, were to treat those in Shanty Town of their illnesses, like most, above ground, didn’t give two flying shits about the poor. They carried the burdens of the Overlords and were considered easily replaceable.
“Kristen,” Madam Petulia called out and moved toward me. Her hair was bound up in a sunflower-yellow headscarf. She was decked out in bright yellows that reminded me of what warmth of the Caribbean, and how life used to be.
“Sorry I’m late. Soldiers.”
Madam Petulia nodded and stretched out her hand. Unease had her shoulders clenched up around her neck, her body rigid, her smile was also
