“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened and do not be dismayed...”
-unknown
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Nate. He walked down the crumbled path, the concrete, a mass of rubble and dust with fractures so deep that it didn’t appear to be concrete at all.
Walking through the narrow streets, past werewolves who bustled late at night. Most only looking for ways to get intoxicated with some old, withered harlot in the dark corners of a deserted street.
The thick night fog had woven its way into the night air, almost like a snake, as it hindered people’s views of the street, with the fire lamps barely making a difference in the darkness and pungent fog.
Making his way through, he found himself standing in front of a half-tapered building, the stone beams looked far too weak to hold it up. The broken tiles of the roof had a sign half ruined by mud and time, but the words were still visible under the years-old plaque, “Bloomsbury shallow,” it read.
Nathaniel put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the address of where he had to be, looking at the note and then back up at the building.
“Seems about right,” he mumbled to himself as he tucked the small piece of paper back into his breast pocket.
Slowly walking towards the building with dread and duty, he came to a sudden halt when the door of the old thing opened to a maggot-looking man, his face covered in a week or two’s worth of scruff, making Nathaniel feel a little out of place, knowing full well that even in the ripped peasant clothes and face covered in soot, he looked to put together.
Nathaniel would have thought the man was a vampire if he hadn’t known better; the man’s eyes were an unhinging grey, with his iris almost invisible. He knew the man was intoxicated with a shot of silver and empherism, a drug mixed with silver to make the silver easier to process. It was one of the strongest drugs, making it highly illegal as it caused the eyes to change into a blinding grey or white as the person went through hallucinations for weeks at a time.
It was dangerous in the wrong hands, and that was the very reason that Nathaniel was at this place.
“Batty...Batty...come here, love, and let me show you how a real man fucus." The man slurred as he tripped and fell on the ground, “oh Batty y...yo..your... going so fast today....”
Nathanial cringed at the man as he walked past him and pushed the rusted door of the Shallow open, the murderous scent of rotten fish and vomit reached his nose, making him almost gag as he held his breath and swallowed the bile that had risen up.
Why in the name of the goddess had he agreed to this, he wondered.
He walked into the room; the walls were lined with wooden panelling and damp, and the floors that had once been tiled white were so grimly that they seemed to be in every shade of brown and green.
Inside the room were small wooden round tables with chairs that had splintered legs, some even missing a leg. Nate made a mental note not to sit down.
Butchered males sat on tables with barely covered females sitting in their laps. Nathaniel internally wished he could cover his eyes, as he had promised himself that the only naked female he would ever see would be his mate.
Suddenly he felt a hand crawl up his back, causing him to swivel around in surprise as he grasped onto the intruder’s hands.
It was a female, a small thing with rounded blue eyes and full, puffy lips. Nathaniel couldn’t help but wonder how old she was, as she looked younger than Ariana and Andria.
Her blonde hair was tangled as she stood in front of him, wearing only a single garment that barely covered the assets between her legs, leaving the rest of her bare for the eyes of on lookers.
“Wow, you look like a dazzler,” the female said, her voice small as she gave him a grin that looked somewhat shy.
She began trailing her hands across his torso, “hmm. ..... you’re strong, you’re going to be fun to play with.” She said with a Cheshire grin, causing Nathaniel to shudder in disgust.
Her hands moved slowly down his abdomen to his crotch, causing him to hurriedly grasp onto her hands. “Not here. Not today,” he said, shooing away the woman who tried giving him pouty lips but only made him grimace internally.
Turning away from the woman, Nathaniel headed towards a place that seemed to be the drinking lounge, a group of tables lined against the back wall of the room with bottles of whisky and rum laid across them. Every drunk man’s dream.
A man stood by the table pouring drinks for other men and women, his torso bare and his eyes cat-like in a greenish-yellow hue . He was a nightlock; it was obvious by his demeanour. Nightlocks were night creatures. They were thought to possess great knowledge and power; many were respected, but most were feared. What was a nightlock doing here, Nathaniel wondered to himself.
He approaches the nightlock with a subtle change in his posture, trying to appear less intimidating and more peasant like.
The Nightlock looks him up and down, his pupils narrowing into slits. “I’ll help you, lad,” he says solemnly.
“Got any rum for the old whiskers, eh?” Nathanial asked as he nudged his head towards the group of men he walked past.
“Those old bas’ards already finish up me barrel,” The man screeched, “Tell ’em thy ain’t getting any more.”
“Oh c’om on don’t be a wu’ssy get them some a’d put so’me emp’erism on thy table while yo’re at it.” Nathanial said internally wincing at his bad slang.
“You’re not from around here, are yah,” the man said, his eyes narrowing into a calculating gaze. “You’re high bred,”
“Wh’at makes you say that?” Nathanial said with a cheeky grin, trying to keep his cool.
“Yo’ur mouths to clean and no one says empherism” the Nightlock says in a whisper as he looked around to make sure no one heard, “it’s called heaven.”
“I am not high bred; my mother once worked for the old Queen, so she thought it would be fitting to teach me the high tongue.” Nathanial said his voice was monotone as the lie came out easily.
“What was her name?” The Nightlock asked, with curiosity brimming his eyes.
“Candice, Candice Volosky,” Nathanial said, causing the Nightlocks’ eyes to widen in surprise.
“Candice is your mother?” The Nightlock spoke with a mixture of fear and hubris.
“Yes, do you know her?” Nathanial asked with a tilt of his head in absentminded curiosity, acting as though he were telling the truth.
“No, I don’t. She was a friend of my father,” The Nightlock said in a wary tone as he brushed his long hair back into its bun.
“So, can I get some?” Nathanial asks, his voice sounding impatient.
“No,” was the Nightlock’s short response as he walked away, “I never really liked my father and his female company,”
“B...but...I need some.” Nathanial said.
“No,” was the only response he received.
“B...but why?” Nathanial asked, knowing that this was his last chance at acquiring the drug for testing.
“Because I’m short on supplies,” the Nightlock said in a duh tone as he grabbed a wine holder and poured rum in it,” lad haven’t ya he’rd of the attacks up north.”
“What attacks?” Nathanial asked no longer interested in the drug.
" so’me mad wolves think the King not to be wo’thy of his name, started a couple of fi’ghts a’d some bloody fires,” The Nightlock spoke, “supplies been running short ever since.”
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Hopefully this chapter made sense....
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