a short story

After facing an invisible killer, a taphephobic warrior discovers her master’s secret within a room of glass coffins.

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In white letters on blue, the sign announced Old Town, the shadow of Roseland. A gloom settled over the city, rain misting through the streetlights casting a veil. Cars groaned along the backstreets. From a nearby nightclub, music thumped while patrons in Halloween garb filed inside. The falling mist eased and floated shifting sideways, and fell again, moistening the ground, a wet fog licking the pavement.

Tigris waited for the streetcar. The night air felt cool, but the black coat stifled her. Opening the front, she let air inside. Peering up she felt the mist kiss her cheeks. Droplets speckled her dark glasses. Toe tapped to the rumbling beat of the club music.

The rhythm working inside her, she moved, rocking shoulders and swaying hips. Damp weather threatening suffocation, dancing was her breath of freedom. Head nodding, body bouncing, she danced in a circle.

From inside the glass waiting booth, a young man watched her while nodding his head to his own music playing through his earphones. Beside him, a balding old man stood with hands stuffed in pockets. Wrinkling his nose, he eyed her suspiciously. Not everyone enjoyed dancing.

Tigris stopped dancing, but her toe continued tapping.

From the left, a blazing headlight flooded the tracks. A bell toned twice. The streetcar whirred to a stop spraying light shining from its compartments. Doors clicked open sliding apart along the side of the steel beast. The old man shuffled through the door, and Tigris followed glancing around the interior washed in blue-green light. Even dark glasses failed at fighting the brilliance within the compartment…(continued)

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This dark fantasy adventure provides a peek into the Draco Torre mythology including minor characters from my novel, Raven Memory.

I welcome and appreciate comments on this story, including negative constructive criticism.