Gene's Reflection

“I thought vampires didn’t have reflections?” Taiga asked, looking at his immortal companion in the mirror. She looked good. Her leaf green skin oddly suited her. She wore a dark green cloak that hung on a golden clasp from her shoulders. Her reddish-orange hair hung down the back of the cloak that kept the rain off her.

            They were sheltering in an abandoned house on the long walk up the cliffs to the chapel on the clifftop. The Chapel on the Rocks was supposed to be a hell of a sight. From what they’d seen so far it was more a hellish trek to get there. The crumbling house they were sheltering in had browning family photos in mouldy frames on the walls. Almost everything else was gone but the shattered mirror by the door. Perhaps someone had broken it as they tried to take it away. The frame had been beautiful once, gold paint had cracked on the flowery relief.

            “Want to wait here and see if it stops raining?” asked the demon.

            “No. I wore appropriate clothing. I told you to wear a rain cloak as well.”

            “Over a suit? No thanks,” Taiga flexed, although the suit was water resistant the water had gathered between the layers.

            Looking at his own reflection the demon in the human body looked like a fashion model. Tall, thin, and dressed to the nines in a suit that cost more than most mansions. His suit was a prototype bullet proof material which still looked almost new after dozens of firefights. Stuck tight to him by cold water though, it was fucking freezing.

            “Vampire’s reflections don’t show up in ancient mirrors because the reflective material was silver. Modern mirrors use aluminium because it’s cheaper. The magical properties of silver don’t mix well with immortals. Aluminium doesn’t care. Water, depending on purity, will be the same as silver.” She was looking at his reflection.

            His body was that of a young Japanese descended man who had worked with Gene when she was still mortal. Despite having been with her for centuries Taiga didn’t think his companion would ever be as close with him as she had been to anyone when she was alive. Something about her was gone.

            “I’m walking. It’s not that far now. Wait here if you want,” she said, looking out into the rain and the mist.

            Flipping her green hood up over the orange hair his companion walked away. Tugging his purple shirt straight he checked his reflection in the mirror before following her. The rain was as heavy, more so even than the rain on the planet of Shin-Tokyo where they were both from.

            The wind was being whipped this way and that by high wind which would have chilled a mortal to the point of hypothermia in less time than it took to walk from the landing site to the chapel. Brave pilots landed on the clifftop where the chapel clutched to the rocks but neither Gene nor Taiga were up to the task.

            Grass that held together in heavy rain didn’t survive the weight of the demon and the vampire. They were walking in mud up to their ankles. Gene was wearing green wellington boots that zipped to her waterproof trousers. Once again Taiga admitted that he should have listened to her, once again he realised too late.

            As they climbed out of the shadow of oak trees into the muted light of the clifftop, they saw the ships and the wreckage of those with more nerve and fewer braincells than Gene. Taiga might have taken the chance on the landing because he could survive the crash. Ships that had made the landing without a scratch had sunk so deep into the dirt that Taiga wasn’t sure they could dig themselves out again.

            Some of the native birds sat on the wings and the noses of the ships as if the wind and the rain were nothing then flew away scared as the two immortals drew closer.

            The chapel was a gothic ode to ghost stories. Made from the same stone as the cliffs the imposing grey relic seemed as old as the world itself. It even had gargoyles spraying water from the gutters. Taiga sniggered. Gargoyles were meant to scare off demons supposedly. That was as ridiculous as vampires being repelled by crosses.

            Gene was already banging on the door when Taiga caught up with her. “Open the door or my friend will kick it in.” She looked at him, daring him to contradict her. He was always her muscle. She used his name when she needed a threat.

            The sound of laughing came from a speaker by the door. “That door is twenty centimetres thick and reinforced. I could do with a laugh, so please, go for it.”

            Taiga stepped into the shelter of the porch and stared into the lens of the door camera. The same voice came back through the speaker with less mirth than before. “Do I know you?”

            “My name is Taiga. Do you know me?”

            “What do you want here?” From the edge of concern in the man’s voice the demon was sure that he had been recognised.

            “I just want to dry off.” Taiga turned his head and aimed a thumb at Gene. “She wants to talk to Hamish.”

            “There’s no Hamish here.”

            “If that was true you would have hesitated to think about it. She wants to talk to Mister Fletcher. If you don’t open the door, I will.”

            “Like I said. There’s no one by that name here.”

            “Well, I asked nicely. Remember that.”

            Taiga planted his feet by the door and aimed his shoulder at the heavy wood. When he rammed against the door it shook but his feet slipped on the stone steps instead of giving him the traction he needed. Looking at the camera he guessed that the guy on the other side was laughing.

            “Give me something to dry my hands.” Taiga showed Gene his open hand. She looked at it and sighed. She shrugged off her cloak and hand it to him. He dried his hands and pressed them to the crack in the wooden doors. The oak split into splinters. He threw the splinters away and smiled. He could see a gap in the metal as the wood fell away.

            Reaching into the gap with the fingers of his right-hand Taiga pulled as he pushed with his left. The metal gave a pained protest before buckling. He could smell his own blood on the splinters and feel the pain and the itch as the wound fought against the demonic healing magic. There was a reason Gene used him as cannon fodder.

            Slowly. Far too slowly the door opened. A familiar series of clicks from inside the door made him smile. Four people inside had turned off the safety catches on their guns. It was a point of pride for Taiga that he never started a fight. He didn’t want to be like his ethereal siblings. He always finished the fights other people started with him though.

            When the bolts holding the door shut snapped and the door swung open, he saw five guns. Two of them had clearly been in sync when they armed their weapons. The men holding the guns had all seen military service of some sort he saw. They held themselves with the posture of men who had been drilled in training and bloodied in battle. They had their hair cut short to military standard. If they had been wearing sleeveless tops Taiga was sure that he would have known their blood types from tattoos on their right upper arms.

            Their uniforms were grey urban camouflage without names or markings. Their guns were last generation military tech, Cobra H340. Taiga knew they had standard twenty round magazines, meaning he had one hundred bullets aimed at him.

            “Thank you, Gene,” he said beneath his breath. This kind of situation was the reason he had been summoned from the ethereal realm, the reason he had metal a metal strapped to his bones. Gene was the prosthetic surgeon responsible for him.

            Taiga would forever be grateful for the life he lived in the mundane realm. His immortal siblings knocked the stuffing out of him from the dawn of time until he was offered the body of a mortal to fight a war he had lost miserably.

            “Do what you have to do boys,” he told the soldiers. “Just know that if you pull the trigger and I’m still alive when you’re done your life is forfeit. Do you get paid enough for that?”

            “Fire,” said the oldest man at the back. Taiga had to suppose he was being paid a fortune.

            One hundred bullets left the rifles in the soldier’s hands and ripped the flesh and muscle from the metal on the demon’s bones. He stood with his hands over his face because even though healing flesh on his arms and chest was agonising, it was better than having to regrow eyeballs. He had sworn he would never suffer through that nauseating experience twice.

            The hollow click, click, click of guns stuttering without bullets to fire made Taiga pull his mutilated arms down to his sides. He was glowing green with soul magic as he healed. The sight made flesh look like sand rolling back uphill into place as he strode forwards, wincing from the pain of the wounds and the dreadful itch of healing.

            “Reload,” said the leader, his voice high and breaking as all of them stepped back, trying to shove new magazines into their rifles before Taiga could get to them. He wrapped his left hand around the throat of one man and jerked his hand to the neck of another who was dancing back out of reach. The sickening crack of their necks breaking brought a sadistic smile to Taiga’s face. He had warned them.

            As much as some of the ethereal beings liked to pretend, they were angels, he had always considered the role of demon a far more honest representation of his kind. It was all politics really.

            Knocking the rifle from the hand of a third man with a chop he slapped the man backhanded, leaving a bloody mark across the soldier’s head. He kicked the next man in the kneecap, bending the leg backwards. The man screamed until Taiga gave him a fatal punch in the throat.

            The leader had reloaded his rifle and was swinging it up to fire as Taiga caught the muzzle, putting his thumb over the barrel. He knew it was going to hurt. When the man pulled the trigger the demon tensed his hand, forcing the gun to backfire into the last soldier’s chest. The man was saved from a bullet wound by his body armour but without the gun he was defenceless when Taiga caved in his skull with the heel of his muddy shoes. He finished off the unconscious man by breaking his neck, a merciful death by the demon’s standards.

            “Bravo,” came an ancient voice. Taiga heard clapping before he turned to see the vampire Gene was there to see. Hamish fletcher was a short man with a deceptively friendly face. He had a broad nose, a big smile and a high hairline framed by a neatly trimmed black beard. He wore a pine green silk suit and trousers with a gold shirt beneath.

            His green skinned companion emerged from the doorway when she heard that the fighting was over. She looked at the bodies with confusion in her eyes.

            “Did you tell them to fight us?” Gene asked him.

            “Of course, I did. I wanted to see the legendary Taiga in action.” He hugged Gene as if she was an old friend. “You must be Gene. I’ve heard so much about you from Naga. How is she? I was expecting news about our little project.” He held her by the shoulders and peered at her the way a grandparent might at a grandchild they’d not seen in years.

            “Our?” Gene asked pointedly.

            “Yes, our project. Naga was the brains for sure and a lot of the money as well, but I helped to procure the scientists needed for the project. I have my ways. I expected results but I have to say that you turned out just my colour.” He pointed to her and then to his suit. Gene gave him the curve of a mouth babies make when they have wind that is often mistaken for a smile.

            “You’re not getting it,” said the green vampire to the vampire in the green suit. Hamish smirked as if that was hilarious. He turned away towards a bar that had been newly carved from oak. Taiga could still smell the sap from the wood and the varnish.

            “Come and let’s talk about it. Get us three scotch whiskeys Alfie, single malt please, no blends,” said the green and gold suited man to the barman.

The barman was a monstrous mass of muscle who looked more dangerous than the soldiers who had just died. Given that he hadn’t run away during the firefight Taiga guessed he had combat experience as well. He was the tallest one there, in a simple black suit with a white shirt and a green tie that matched Fletcher’s suit.

“Anything in particular sir?”

“Surprise us Alfie,” Hamish turned back to Gene and Taiga, looking worried that he might have guessed their favourite drinks incorrectly. “Scotch is alright, isn’t it? I’ve got some very good stuff.” He raised his eyebrows which were like two black caterpillars resting on his brow.

“Make mine two triples,” said Taiga, who loved whiskey.

“I’ll bring three glasses and the bottle,” said Alfie, turning his back. Taiga made an approving noise.

Hamish led them to the dining area of what felt like a country club. The armchairs were deep and comfy, upholstered in green leather. Taiga sensed a theme. The wallpaper was green tartan. The tiles around the flickering fireplace were deep green. The gold tablecloths were slightly uncomfortable, like bright lights stinging the eyes in a dark room.

A book with a red ribbon bookmark lay on a darkly varnished table by Hamish’s chair as he reclined. He gestured to the next two seats facing the fire.

“I should charge you for the damage to my front porch,” said the host. He smiled a jovial smile to show them he was joking. “So, you don’t want to give me the solution to my ultraviolet allergy?” He gave Gene a hard stare, narrowing his eyes.

“No. I don’t.” She sat, folding her arms as Alfie arrived with three glasses and the bottle of whiskey.

“Why not,” asked the old vampire as if he was asking a child why they didn’t like broccoli.

“Because you’re a vampire. You’re an ancient blood sucking murderer.” 

Hamish began laughing. It wasn’t an ominous laugh at all. He laughed the way you do when a joke is so bad that it’s good. He shrugged and held up his hands.

“I’m in good company then. Tell me, do you have all of the research?” Hamish asked.

“I made copies.” She looked at him as he sighed with relief. “You’re still not getting them.

“Just keep them safe Gene. I don’t need them now. I’ve been around for thousands of years. There’s a reason I built myself a dark cathedral to the past in the middle of nowhere. If you want to keep the research and think about it for a while that’s not a problem for me. When you change your mind, or if you die, I’ll be here.”

“I’m not planning on either,” said Gene with her green lips pursed.

“No one ever plans on dying or changing their minds, Gene. It’s the big joke about being immortal. Everything we know becomes irrelevant. Technology moves forwards and if you’re still making bows and arrows when people suddenly want guns then more fool you. Something will change I guarantee that. When it does you come and find me here. If you die, I’ll have you and your things found and brought to me and I’ll figure out how it works. I want to see the sun again. I want to walk in the daylight before I die. You know what that means to us. Young vampires don’t get it. They think if you have the night and fresh blood that’s all you’ll ever need. They don’t understand that people weren’t meant to live without feeling the sun on their skin. Without seeing water dance in the daylight. Without sleeping.” His head snapped back to her from the flames of the fire. “Can you sleep?”

Taiga heard Gene grind her teeth before answering. “No.”

“Shame. That would have been almost as wonderful as walking in the light.”

“True.” She nodded and drank the whiskey in her tulip shaped glass.

“I suppose you’re the first vampire to walk in daylight,” said Hamish, raising his glass to her.

“The first?” she asked.

“I’ve never heard of it before,” he said.

“How old are you?” Gene asked.

“Older than guns,” said Hamish. He drank the rest of his whiskey and stared back into the flames of the fireplace. The fire seemed to soothe him. Taiga wondered if they were all that made sense to the vampire anymore.