A Reprise

Scarlet looked up with alarm, real alarm. Cassandra had never seen her supervisor look discomposed, but just now her fear was unmistakable. She rose suddenly, a whole foot taller than Cassandra, though she was as slender as a willow, and similarly pale. "I thought you'd gone home, Cassandra. Why are you still here? It's late." "I had some work to finish up. I guess there's nothing more I can do. I'm sorry to have startled you." "You shouldn't hang around here after dark, Cassandra. It won't be safe for you to go home. You walk, don't you?" "I don't mind the dark," Cassandra said quickly. "I like to work late. I could use some extra hours, if you don't mind, Dr. Thorn," she added, recalling a conversation she had overheard between her co-workers. Humans liked to work extra hours, though she didn't truly understand why. But as a princess, she had never wanted for anything, and didn't t...

So I am switching stories again .. and we will start with famous opening lines (almost -- "it was a dark and stormy night" is bad writing, most nights are dark)..  It was dark and storming .. (Sorry for my manga-ka asides .. ) From within the laboratory, Cassandra could hear the clatter of Dr. Thorn's polished red nails across her keyboard. She sensed Dr. Thorn was in another bad mood. She wanted to reach out to her but had no idea how. She knew in the human world their status was disparate. Dr. Thorn was her supervisor, and Cassandra had to focus on the work Dr. Thorn set out for her to do. It was obvious she didn't want to be bothered, and Cassandra couldn't be pushy with her. But she found she was so lonely. She couldn't connect to any of the other girls in the laboratory at all. This was likely because she was more different from them than they could possibly imagine, but it didn't dissipate the feeling of failure that loomed over her when th...

I can't write much anymore. I just don't have the presence of mind for it. But when they come, if I turn them away, they won't come back so much. That's the way it works. So even though I can't write a story, I can at least tell you what Dr. Thorn is doing, so that you know The Empty City  is still around. Dr. Thorn is sitting at her desk in a bare office. She is a picture of elegant tragedy. Her long, white fingers are entwined around a telephone receiver, not a cordless kind -- the cord is dangling down impossibly long and hopeless like the seventy-foot-long cords you would see at granny's house that have to reach all the way across the kitchen and dining room. It's an old telephone, but it's not as old as the fingers holding it: they look like carved ivory that might yellow a bit over a few hundred years, but nothing more. As a vampire, she is exempt from signs of aging, yet the price she pays is an indeterminate look about her eyes and face: noth...

But she had still not yet seen the wolves. She was only too grateful to find the little coffee shop where she had had her interview with Dr. Thorn-and it was almost surprising to encounter people that smiled in return at her, or took any notice of her. "The world of humans," she said to herself, "is a strange and varied one. It must be the myriad of professions and experiences that makes them so different from each other." She took a slow, lasting breath as her eyes combed the cafe menu, written in pastel-colored chalk. "I am not doing this for fun. I have to remember that. When I see the wolves it will be different." The coffee shop was bustling with life at noon. Wonderful aromas lifted from the coffee roaster, while the oven was redolent with smells of rising dough and sugar. She took a seat by the window and watched two young women around her age having a chat and sharing a plate of pastries. She felt an unfamiliar pang as she remembered the specia...

"Dr. Thorn," Cassandra uttered, at a loss. "It is good to see you again." Dr. Thorn lifted a brow and returned to her paperwork. "It is good you have come. We are terribly understaffed at the moment. Are you willing to work overtime?" "Of course," Cassandra said quickly. She had been hoping to have some evenings in the laboratory when no one else was there, to communicate with the captive wolves and reveal her identity to them. As it was, the wolves were in constant danger of revealing their true nature to the scientists that studied them. If their great intelligence was discovered, the ambitions of the institute could change-instead of seeking to eradicate the species, the scientists might instead wish to exploit them for human gain. Dr. Thorn's cell phone vibrated on the desk between them, and she lifted it to one pallid cheekbone. "Scarlet-" the tinny voice reached Cassandra's ears. "Have you drunk-" "I...

Cassandra's heart turned over with excitement as she stepped from the bus onto the smooth paved streets. Drommende was a wilderness, but Cristalle was a metropolis. On this typical Monday morning, people dressed in business attire walked the streets, stopped at coffee vendors to order lattes and breakfast pastries. Cassandra remembered the coffee shop where she had had her interview with Dr. Thorn and wondered if it would be close to her laboratory. She would like to be able to go there frequently. With written instructions curled tightly in her hand, she entered the high-rise building before her. The lower rooms were walled with floor to ceiling windows, and morning light filled them with overwhelming brightness. Solar panels lined the walls to power computers and other equipment. "May I help you, miss?" A guard standing in the hall smiled at her in a friendly way. "I'm looking for the elevator." He gestured with a quick movement down the hallway. ...

As she lifted the scissors to cut, a larger hand wrapped around hers. Cassandra withdrew with a cry. "Kell! I didn't see you come in." He took the scissors away. "I take it you got the job." "I did," she said crisply. "Return my scissors to me." "Not if you intend to cut off your hair. What do you mean by this nonsense?" "I can't have long hair in the laboratory. It might catch fire or something." "Look there." He guided her to the window. Below them lay the scattered remains of a centuries-old city park. The benches were near invisible due to growth, while the pond had extended far beyond its original boundaries. Ducks floated serenely on its surface. "We played as children. Do you remember how you prized your hair?" Cassandra laughed a little drily. "Of course. I insisted all my powers as princess lay in my hair. I was haughty. unworthy of the friendship of you and your sister." ...

He wore a waistcoat of dulled black satin and a crushed red velvet vest. His top hat was adorned with a collection of tattered silk roses such as might have been found at someone's grave. Over his shoulder was a sack not half full of his burden, and not very heavy. He whistled and nodded to passersby who were too far in proximity to notice the speculation in his wine-colored eyes. He availed himself of the secret entrance to the underground establishment of his pack, and slung the sack the ground in the entry way. "What news, Lady Cassandra," he called in the practiced tone of a ring leader. "Come and get the post." Cassandra hurried at the sound of his call, rushed to his side before Kell or any other could interfere with the post. "Is there a letter for me?" "There is," he drawled. Cassandra slit the envelope with her fingernail and quickly withdrew the contents. She remained silent as she slowly moved to the window, growing more stil...

She had taken the window seat overlooking the deserted city of Drommende. Her black skirt suit was exchanged for a long velvet gown of burnished gold, stained and creased from the ravages of time. She had received it as a gift from her father fifty years ago, when their clan had been prosperous enough to procure fine clothing. Around her neck she wore long chains of amethysts which glimmered in the late afternoon light. "I have always wanted to work in a laboratory, father. I have always wanted to do good for our people." His earlier storm and stress had dissipated, and he merely sighed. "A member of the royal family has never worked." Cassandra glanced at him. "This is no ordinary laboratory, father. The scientists in Cristalle are capturing the wolves-our people-and putting them through a battery of tests, often killing and dissecting the animals, to understand how to defeat our race." She met his shocked gaze. "Then if they learn who-or what-y...

The werewolves lived mainly underground for privacy and protection, while their leaders kept the lower floors of the high rise for themselves. The upper floors were desolate, wind wistfully tousling the white canvases covering windows and furnishings. Long ago this room had been an office. A computer lay partially dismantled across a desk, several of its keys littering the floor below. Leather-upholstered chairs were torn and askew. A coffee mug still lay on the desk near the broken computer, a darkened ring inside telling the story of years of use before its abandonment. In the corners, where paper and litter rustled, Cassandra knew large rats lived, and she did not venture further into the rooms, but continued on the staircase. "Grainne," she whispered mournfully, tears in her voice, "what happened to you? You were the only hope of our people. For a while we have been able to live almost as humans lived." Grainne had left no sign, no trace of the concoctions...

"What, then?" Cassandra asked. "None other live in Drommende." "There have been rumors of angels in Drommende," Kell said. "Avenging angels." Cassandra lifted a brow. "That doesn't bode well for us. But there are scarcely any humans remaining here, and they are friendless. The ancient texts warned of what might come." Kell followed her from the throne room to the antechamber. "I'm going to the observatory. If there are any changes in my father's condition, please notify me immediately." Cassandra smiled to herself as she ascended the stairs. Kell wouldn't mock her authoritative tone, but he should. She didn't know what she was doing, and she hated herself for pretending. Since the herb woman had died, her father had had no way of obtaining the concoction he needed to remain human. As the oldest werewolf, he was fated to spend most of his time in animal form, now only turning human for a few days each m...

"Kell, you may come in." Cassandra reluctantly drew her hand from beneath her father's. "My lady, it appears that you were tracked on your way home. A young man following you at a distance watched you enter the building, then left." "I can't imagine why anyone would follow me. There was nothing unusual in my doings today. I had a job interview, then walked home alone." "A pale young man, unusually tall, with rather long, silvery hair. He wasn't human." Cassandra met the gaze of her father's principal advisor. "I did meet someone today who wasn't human. He was the barista at the coffee shop where I had my interview. He did seem a bit interested in what I was about." Kell allowed a thin smile. "That is hardly surprising, my lady. However I must warn you to use caution when making friends. Our people have enemies everywhere." "I want to know more of this man. I had never seen anyone like him before....

Cassandra chanted to herself as she unlocked the door of a plain stone building. The sky was darkening rapidly; the wind whipped her long, curly hair around the tailored shoulders of her only blazer. "I think I got it. I know I'm qualified. I know I am. Dad!" Her voice echoed down the shadowed staircase leading underground. A network of tunnels and cavernous rooms lay beneath the abandoned city of Drommende. Cassandra belonged to this renegade population. "Dad!" A far-away growling answered her call. "Dad," she groaned. The echo of trickling water followed her steps as she hurried down the steps, her black portfolio dangling from one shoulder. From her matching handbag she withdrew an incongruous key, ornately wrought of pure silver, on which a dark pink velvet ribbon was tied. Cassandra opened a large, heavy door with it at the bottom of the stairs and as quickly as its size and weight allowed, closed it behind her and bolted it. The growling...

The barista swept the dishes, napkins and crumbs from the table in a graceful gesture. Cassandra watched him, peering over her cup of masala coffee. The note of cardamom was strong, slightly bitter. She concentrated on it rather than on her unsteady nerves. "Everything all right?" "I think so." She took a deep breath. "I hope I get this job." He smiled understandingly. Cassandra looked at him appraisingly. There was something about his smile remarkably un-stunning. Perhaps he was a human after all. She didn't know why, but it gave her a slight relief. Humans were complicated enough in their own way. "Why did Dr. Thorn interview you here, rather than at the lab?" Cassandra was crestfallen as she realized she had been trying to avoid asking herself that question. Perhaps Dr. Thorn hadn't had an official reason to turn down the interview and had gone through something hurried and informal out of obligation. Then she reminded herself of the d...

"Thank you, Miss Eliot. May I have a list of your references?" In the stress of the situation Cassandra was overdoing everything. She had checked her portfolio three times that morning to assure herself of its contents, and now she withdrew one of five copies with an exaggerated gesture. Dr. Thorn tipped up her deeply-tinted glasses to look over the page, then returned them to her nose. "Two are my fellow faculty members. Very nice, Miss Eliot." She was so calm, so business-like, Cassandra's mind flew ahead to the future, imagining working with Dr. Thorn and discovering the real person, if there were one. Dr. Thorn was every bit as cold and more intimidating than Cassandra had imagined, and she was glad she had overprepared for her interview, as it had given her more confidence. She felt a stunned reprieve when she realized Dr. Thorn was closing their interview. She shook hands with Cassandra and smiled with a limited degree of warmth. "You are a promising ...

"My last summer internship was spent in a veterinary clinic specializing in horses. We restrained the animals with special harnesses before their exams." "Of course. And did you ever tranquilize the animals?" "In one case, an animal had to be tranquilized. I prepared the fluid according to the doctor's instructions, but I did not tranquilize the animal." "Have you worked with animals besides horses?" "There were other animals admitted to the clinic, dogs and cats." "Describe your level of experience in handling difficult animals." Dr. Thorn's questions were so rapid-fire Cassandra barely drank her masala coffee, keeping it in a tight grip in one hand. "I am competent at handling large or difficult animals. I have a good sense about what frightens or hurts them and can minimize their stress without much restraint." Dr. Thorn regarded Cassandra thoughtfully. With regard to appearance, Cassandra might have made ...

Cassandra accepted the masale coffee from his outstretched hand gratefully, inhaling the mingled spices of cardamom and cloves. At the other end of the room she noticed a pale, dark-haired woman she had not seen before, and her heart gave a leap. She knew by the woman's regal bearing and elegant clothing that she had a very good chance of being Dr. Thorn, Cassandra's prospective employer. Confirming her belief, the woman looked up at Cassandra attentively for a moment, then rose. Clutching her coffee mug with both hands, Cassandra moved hastily across the room, then extended one hand in greeting. "Dr. Thorn? I'm Cassandra Eliot." "Miss Eliot. A pleasure." Dr. Thorn shook her hand and nodded briefly, as composed and objective as Cassandra had imagined she would be. Dr. Thorn had purchased no coffee or breakfast bun for herself. On the table before her were Cassandra's resume, a tablet, and a heavy, somewhat old-fashioned pen. "Miss Eliot, your un...

Cassandra attempted to shrug off the tight hold her nerves kept. "I have a job interview in a few minutes, actually." "Well, good luck with that." "Thanks." Cassandra looked at the coffee he was making for her, wishing he could imbue it with a double shot of extra confidence. "It's really important to me. I am great admirer of this person's work." "Your interview is here?" Cassandra nodded. "Why don't you come by and tell me how it went, okay? I'll be rooting for you. Oh, and-" He passed her a small paper-wrapped object. "Teddy bear cookie for you on the house." "Thanks." Cassandra gave a dazed laugh. "I may save that for later." "Seriously." He cast her a direct gaze. "Let me know how it went."

Cassandra stepped into a coffee shop that was cool and dark in contrast to the blinding light outside. The odors of coffee and fresh pastries wafted even through the doorway with each swing of the door to the patrons at rest in the patio chairs outside. She needed a moment to collect herself before her big interview. She stepped up to the coffee bar and met the gaze of a tall, slender man with long, pale hair and sea-green eyes. He gazed back at her penetratingly for a moment before he collected himself to take her order. Cassandra realized with a slightly dazed feeling that he wasn't human. Could this be one of the angels rumored to be colonizing Cristalle? She tried not to pay any more note to him and focused herself on her order. As she scanned over the daily offerings she was filled with self-doubt, derived probably from her pending interview with a great idol of hers. She had no idea if her coffee order should say something about her, be the opposite of all that she was, be pa...

I stared into those eyes, memerized like a mouse by a cobra. Something whispered in the back of my mind to take caution, but I could not logically associate it with the strange but evidently benign gathering. "Hello," she said, her eyes sweeping me up and down, delineating the plainness of my clothing, saying as politely as possible, you were not invited . "What's going on?" I stammered. "I thought this building was abandoned." "Why, so did we," she returned. "We thought we would have a gathering without disturbing anyone." I could not tell if she meant for me to go, or if she meant to apologize. "I'm Angelica," she said, turning and, over her shoulder, "You are welcome to join." I was soon so lost in the whirling costumes, haunting music and tantalizing sweets I forgot that I was an intruder. Others watched me while they danced, and I stared at them; they were all smiling, but not overtly. Soon I was invited...