They walked past grimy and dilapidated storefronts, with the eyes of some of Wisptown’s residents trailing them as they passed. Remnants from the Ectorain last night lingered on the road, and Evantra yanked the girl aside as she narrowly avoided the spray from a puddle of black ectorain that a car drove through.
“You seriously killed a teethling? What did it look like? How did it feel to get bitten? Woah. You are the coolest preacher I’ve ever heard of. You found a Remington Ghoulkiller? That’s a classic – one of the better automatic shotguns they produced before the Liberty merger.”
Evantra Wraithmarked had spent approximately ten minutes with Noelle, and the girl had drained her social battery down to its very last vestiges.
“Are you sure won’t get in trouble for leaving the store like that?”
“It’s fiiiiine. Wait… I have to ask. About the whole religion thing.”
Noelle paused as she tapped a finger against her chin. Her bright green eyes fixed on Evantra.
“Everyone knows how when the angels and demons appeared, every religious group claiming that they existed were pretty glib. And then when they began laying waste to civilisation, membership of said groups took a nosedive.”
Evantra started to feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. Still, she couldn’t help but acknowledge that in their short exchange, Noelle was exceedingly well read and up to date on world affairs. And Veilcreature affairs. And gun affairs. Speaking to Noelle Laurent was like speaking to an insufferable, manic, walking encyclopaedia.
“I mean, even the atheists couldn’t gloat when the world was burning around them… so, why?”
“I’m not really a devout Christian.”
“Fascinating.”
Evantra lip twitched as the girl seemed to only grow more curious at her attempt to deflect the question.
“My parents were preachers and I guess… wait, what does this have to do with anything?”
“A preacher that doesn’t subscribe to the religion they preach. I suppose the bible doesn’t exactly tell you to go around shredding Veilcreatures open with a shotgun either. You know, you’re lucky you didn’t die.”
Evantra stared at the girl.
“Oh not because of the teethlings. Because you stuck a loaded revolver into your jeans. Has no one taught you about gun safety? I mean ok, I get it, you’re celibate, but if you want to keep the option open, you should really get a holster.”
Evantra sighed. Despite taking great care to avoid any mention of the magical girl, the ritual, or the relics, Noelle had relentlessly quizzed her. It seemed like she wasn’t intending on stopping anytime soon.
Darn it. I really liked that vintage game store. Looks like I won’t be going back there soo—
Noelle clapped her hands in delight, interrupting her thoughts.
“Still, you’re the closest thing I’ve seen to a Ghostslayer in this dreary town.”
This time, Evantra turned to Noelle to sate her own curiosity.
“Why are you in this shi— place anyway? I haven’t seen you around before and you seem like you’re… from the city.”
Noelle’s face fell, and Evantra only felt a hint of guilt at her expression.
“My parents…”
Oh no. Don’t tell me. Another orphan who’s fallen prey to—
“They’re living the good life in Europe.”
Evantra stared at Noelle, who continued to ramble as if her words made sense.
“I mean… Yeah, the Vatican is overrun with angels just a glimpse of which will make your eyes weep blood. But that aside, the place is relatively untouched. Sure, you have some bloodspawn running around Romania – the bloody halls of Shang-ri La and all that. But look at the rest of the world! Egypt’s become a necropolis run by archliches. Japan is inundated with yokai and some real terrifying ghosty bastards.”
Her face fell for a moment.
“Those poor Australians.”
She shuddered, as Evantra coughed into her palm.
“You were saying? About your parents?”
“Oh, yeah. Right. I came here because I wanted to become a techie to a Ghostslayer.”
“And… your parents were ok with you coming to the here on your own to do that? To Wisptown? Why not just do it in Europe if it’s such a great place?”
Noelle rolled her eyes.
“Elsecaller city creates legends. I’m not interested in working for some two-bit Ghostslayer who cares more about their work-life balance than killing Veilcreatures. You don’t become an [Eldritch] ranked Ghostslayer by hunting a couple of teethlings flitting about pretty Venetian streets. No offence. All the best Ghostslayers?”
Noelle hesitated, averting their eyes.
“Well… I suppose they’re in Japan where all the worst ghosts are. Or maybe they’re in space or the colonies dealing with the fallout from whatever blew up the moon… anyway it isn’t about Elsecaller city having the best Ghostslayers, it’s where legends are born! The city of hope—”
“And horror… yes.”
Noelle grinned as she wrapped Evantra’s arm in her own. Before the girl could resume in her inquiries, Evantra took the opportunity to continue with her own line of questioning.
“So why Wisptown?”
“Well… I didn’t exactly get my parents’ blessing. Monetary or otherwise. So, uh…”
“You couldn’t afford the rent in Elsecaller City, huh?”
Noelle recoiled at her words, her hurt plain on her expression.
“I’m saving up. Don’t get on my ass for it!”
They came to a halt as they finally reached their destination.
“Well… All the best with your dreams. This is my stop.”
Gale’s Gunstore.
“I KNEW IT!”
In a flash, the girl had advanced on her, prying the bag open in a swift motion, revealing the Remington Ghoulkiller stashed inside before she could react.
“Hey!”
“So, it’s true?” Her bright green eyes widened to practically the size of saucers as she regarded Evantra.
“What is?”
“You’re trying to become a Ghostslayer.”
Evantra tried to conceal her surprise, as Noelle uttered the word with reverence.
“No. I’m just pawning something in. A rift opened in my neighbour’s house. She might lose her job. I’m not exactly rolling in ectocredits here.”
“This is how all the forums say it goes. Veilsurge opens up in some poor lichdick’s house. Then they’re reminded of their powerlessness, and they decide to begin their road to being a Ghostslayer. I’m right, aren’t I—”
“No, you aren’t.”
Evantra’s tone was laced with steel, and she watched with a small measure of satisfaction as the girl flinched in surprise.
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“Take your fantasies with you, back to your job. You’ve had a single conversation with me, and you think you know me?”
In truth…
Noelle had been right on the money.
Still, the genuine undertone of anger helped her sell the lie. What Evantra expected, at the very least, was for a reasonable individual to back down at the acidity in her tone. To apologise, and to retreat, knowing their presence was no longer welcome.
“Remington Ghoulkiller... So, you weren’t lying about the shotgun. Excellent choice in a Veilsurge, but it burns through ammo. Hmm… I’d recommend a Nagantra AS310 – silenced machine pistol with selective fire-rate, if you’re just starting out and need to be more cautious... From Santa Muerte Defence Corporation – they specialise in the stealth stuff; they’re top of the line. Have you heard of their Archdemon drones? It’s rare that autonomous tech can withstand poltergeists, but they’ve somehow managed it. Forget Liberty weapons, unless you’re not afraid to make a bit of noise, and haul around a bunch of weight. Good choice for someone who doesn’t know how to shoot straight… it’s got minimal recoil. Get a holster, stop sticking guns in your pants.”
Evantra forced her jaw close, which had hung slack for a brief moment as the girl delivered her advice.
“Well… hypothetically, of course. You’re not buying guns just popping in to get a couple more bibles, I’m sure. Here’s the thing.”
Noelle beamed at her.
“Do you know what the leading cause of death is for aspiring Ghostslayers? Misinformation.”
Evantra, who was readying to stride into the store to leave Noelle behind, hesitated.
“Ghostslayers religiously guard intel around the monsters. Megacorps sow misinformation. You’ll find conflicting advice on strategies to adopt for different creatures. Why? Because information is power. And power is money. It will save your life when you don’t have the subdermals to resist ghoul claws. I know how to tell fact from fiction.”
Noelle Laurent smiled.
“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Perhaps a reasonable individual would have backed off after her acidic retort.
Evantra Wraithmarked was beginning to understand that Noelle Laurent was no reasonable individual, as her eyes lingered on the girl’s back as she strode back to the part-time job she had temporarily abandoned.
Forget poltergeists and wisps…
I’ve found something even more terrifying than the ghosts.
I’m sorry Archaic Adventures, I’m never coming back until she resigns.
Evantra strode into the gun store.
---
“Welcome! To Gale’s Gunstore. How can I help you?”
Weapons were arrayed in cabinets around the store. It was a far cry from the offerings you would find in the outskirts, most of all, in Elsecaller city. Some of the guns were rusted. Many of them were just as ancient as the Colt Python she had carried into the Veilsurge. Some of the glass cabinets were cracked, likely from previous theft attempts, also hinted by the off-colour stains on the wooden floor of the shop, from the blood of the perpetrators.
If you ran a gunstore in the slums, you’d best be prepared to defend it.
It was a statement, then, that there were any guns on display at all.
“Gale” was actually a Vietnamese gentleman by the name of Minh Tran. He was on the shorter side, and rose to about her shoulders, sporting a pair of horn-rimmed glances. He could usually be found smoking a cigarette outside the store, gracing her with the occasional gruff nod.
Minh was nowhere to be found. In his place, greeting her, was his daughter.
“Hey Tai, is your dad—”
The girl of twelve years of age looked up from the revolver that she was cleaning. At her full height, her head barely reached the counter, and she was clearly standing on a box to allow her easier access to her makeshift workspace.
“That’s Miss Tran to you. Do I know you?”
The girl seemed to be wearing an identical pair of horn-rimmed glasses to her father, which were way too large for her face. It made her look adorable, even with the revolver that she was cleaning with practised expertise.
Evantra forced down her urge to snort.
“Miss Tran. I’m here on business. I want to trade in—”
“Show me the goods. My time is money. You can’t afford my charge-out rate.”
The girl didn’t even cast her a second glance as she continued in her cleaning.
Evantra bit down a laugh that threatened to bubble to the surface, and steeled her expression. She unzipped her backpack and casually deposited the Remington Ghoulkiller on the counter. Evantra watched with satisfaction as the girl’s eyes widened for a split second, before returning to her impassive facade.
Oh, she’s good.
“Ten Ectocredits.”
“You’re going to leave me out to dry, Miss Tran. Have you seen the state of the church?”
“Nine Ectocredits.”
Then, with a sharp flick of her wrist, its cylinder fell into place and she held it right past Evantra’s face.
“HEY YOU, HANDS OFF THE GOODS.”
Evantra turned and watched as a man in a stained hoodie gaped at the gun pointed in his direction, and he raised his hands slowly, backing away from the cabinet that he had been examining intently.
When he ran from the shop, “Miss Tran” resumed her cleaning efforts.
“Nice one.”
Evantra half assumed that he was just a poor, unassuming gun enthusiast who had fallen victim to the blood-curdling twelve-year-old rather than a thief.
Not that the little girl cared.
Tai shot her a smirk. Then a man’s voice echoed from behind the girl.
“She’s not bad. Has a long way to go if she’s to match up to her father.”
Evantra hid a grin as she saw the proprietor step out from the backroom of the store. Despite his harsh words, Evantra could detect a begrudging sliver of pride in his expression as he glanced down at his daughter. She knew, however, that the man would rather shoot himself in the foot than admit it openly to his daughter.
“What do you want?”
“I was trying to see how much I could get for—”
“Fifteen Ectocredits.”
Tai looked up at a father with a look of utter disgust, as he chuckled.
“We aren’t running a charity here, dad.”
Evantra smiled at the barely concealed look of pride that he shot his daughter.
Then, her serene smile took on a sinister gleam.
“Do you want me to give Mrs Tran a visit? Hmm? About how the two of you are extorting women of the church?”
Both father and daughter froze at her words and paled in unison. Funny how certain traits were shared between progenitor and progeny. A fear of a certain Mrs Tran seemed to be genetically ingrained.
Minh raised his hands in placation.
“Alright, let’s not be hasty. Let’s have a proper look at this, shall we? Are you looking to buy?”
“I’m looking for something silenced. Accessible to a beginner.”
Minh raised an eyebrow, and he poked his daughter in the side, grunting.
“Tai. Did you kill this lady’s dog or something? What do you need a silenced weapon for? Afraid of waking the neighbours? Or are you taking the corporate assassin route?”
He turned back towards the weapon in his hands.
“One of Remington’s final models. Could convince a collector to pick it up, if they ignore the rust.”
Evantra eyed the other weapons in the decrepit store, rust dotting their exteriors.
“One-time offer. I’ll give you twenty ectocredits and a choice of one of the guns in the back. Only because you bring us nice bread.”
Then the man’s face fell as he placed the weapon on the counter, the mirth in his expression disappearing.
“You alright? I heard.”
She simply nodded before continuing. Minh gave her another gruff grunt, sensing her intention.
“I want something automatic. Low recoil. I’ve barely practised with the Liberty EZ Defender you gave me.”
Tai pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up her nose, before they immediately drooped back down.
“Can I interest you in a flechette—”
“No more upselling, daughter. Not this time. Give Evantra your honest recommendation.”
Tai put a finger on her chin as she hummed, giving Evantra a once-over.
It was clear to her that Tai didn’t like what she saw.
“The Nagantra line. AS310 Small, light, with a clip size of thirty rounds. Has automatic and semi-automatic firing modes. Machine pistol that punches above its weight class. Good gateway for a beginner. Suppressor sold separately. It’s in your budget range.”
Minh grinned at his daughter’s answer, especially at the tone with which she delivered her final words.
Evantra cast a glance towards the door.
So… Noelle Laurent isn’t just full of hot air.
“I’ll take it. Oh… and a holster for it, please.”
Tai’s eyes narrowed as the little girl leaned over the counter, her cleaning task momentarily forgotten.
“You didn’t carry around that EZ Defender I sold you last time in your pants did—”
Her father covered the girl’s mouth and gently pulled her into the back room. Then he emerged with a black holster and a small grey case. Grabbing her ectocard, he transferred the credits over.
“Three magazines in there – 9mm parabellum rounds. They’re an oldie but a goldie.”
“Thanks Minh. It’s good to see you.”
“You’re always welcome back here. But next time, you’ll have to haggle with her. Like my daughter said, we aren’t running a charity in here.”
Evantra grinned.
“I’ll eat her up.”
---
Trevor Foster POV
Officer Foster bit down his nausea and tuned out dispatch’s requests for communication. He stared at the bloody crime scene before him. Wisptown had its fair share of gang shootouts in the seedier parts of the slums, but the gangs took care not to encroach on the built-up residential areas closer to the city centre.
The mayor, for all his flaws, did clamp down on them when they got too bold.
What he saw before him didn’t make sense as a gang killing.
Firstly, there was no motive. Unlike the usual incidents, the target wasn’t some hooligan that had pissed off a rival gang.
She was an elementary school teacher.
Miss Abigail Yannick, 29 years of age. Killed by a single shot to the forehead. No signs of resistance, the assailant had broken in by shattering the flimsy door lock, catching Miss Yannick off guard. Her class had been distraught when they had found out.
“The poor kids.”
The bullet was a round from one of Liberty’s budget lines – the EZ Defender. Trevor didn’t even bother to check on recent purchases of the weapon. It was by far the most common armament you would find in Wisptown – it was the only one folks could afford.
He had submitted a request to Seraphim to review CCTV footage, and they had told him that footage in the stairwell the assailant had likely entered through was missing due to a failure on the part of the body corporate to maintain their security systems. Just another obstacle that you faced out in the slums. Even if you tried mapping out possible pathways, the amount of blackout zones in footage made it impossible to trace the assailant’s movements.
That was why Trevor found it strange.
The means by which the murder occurred were simple. Yet, the hit had been meticulously selected due to where it was situated – in the blackout zones.
In the past week, there had been two additional murders just like it. A baker was killed, and a childcare worker. No motive, no links, barring the similarity in victim profiles. Young women living utterly ordinary and mundane lives, albeit of different ethnicities and with different careers.
Leaving the scene behind and ducking under the physical tape they had haphazardly erected around the scene, Trevor stared at Caliburn’s mining barge in the distance, hovering over Juno’s Junkyard.
“I know that look, Foster. Not a fan of corpos, are you? Heh heh.”
Trevor ignored his immediate superior, a senior sergeant who had been particularly insistent that they close the case as quickly as possible.
He’d seen the type before.
Trevor hesitated, looking in the direction of the vast mining barge once more before he closed the door to the police hovervan.
