Dawn always thought that there was something racist about the hallways of the Nineveh Fortress. If the slab-grey ten-story ziggurat wasn’t enough to signify to tourists of imperial, colonial conquest, then a walk down the veins and arteries of the building should do the trick. There weren’t the normal paintings of heads of state because the government of the new republic was centered around Baghdad. But all the power of its military laid here, meaning that the walls of the building were peppered with perfectly spaced paintings of what Dawn only assumed were imperial subjugations of sovereign peoples.

Redcoats cutting down an impi of Zulus at Rorke’s Drift, the 21st Lancers charging into the Mahdist Sudanese tribesmen at Omdurman, the Mongol army of Hulagu Khan devastating Baghdad in the 13th century, American tanks toppling a statute of Saddam Hussein in the early years of the 21st century, khaki-clad American marines clambering up the walls of Beijing during the Boxer Rebellion, and on and on.

To the untrained eye they might’ve just been pretty paintings – the artwork on them were all excellent. A smart defenseman could easily obfuscate their meaning by saying that they weren’t related – what does American Marines in Beijing in 1900 have to do with Nineveh in 2104? But to Dawn, the message was obvious. This is a continuation of a project that has lasted for three centuries.

Or maybe she was just projecting. Or bored and overthinking.

Xiuying hadn’t returned her texts yet and Eva was shutting out the world with her headphones and the latest album by CL Oasis and did she really want to talk to Anastasia? The tiny Russian seemed entranced by the vending machines in the hallway, bent forwards at the waist and staring at the bags of chips on the second and third rows. A furry black Ragamuffin sits at her feet, also entranced by the bags of chips on the second and third rows. The cat’s tail sweeps the floor from side to side. The building is big enough to warrant several mousers.

From the other side of the doors, Dawn can hear shouting from within the council room that sat perpendicular to the hallway. An office of government or state wasn’t expected to have good vibes, but it seemed like every time she had stopped there someone was yelling at someone else for some esoteric reason like tax policy or infrastructure funding or governmental subsidies to foreign companies.

Her phone says it’s 12:24pm. Ash said that she’d come and get them when the councilmembers were ready to discuss yesterday’s events and she estimated that they’d start at 11:45.

She exhales deeply. Her collarbone still aches, but the arm attached to the aching side culminates in her dominant hand. She could’ve done with a couple more hours to sleep, too. Up too late, up too early. Someone pounds the wooden table inside and Dawn decides that a furious Russian forced to attend auxiliary meetings is better than boredom.

Her footsteps echo across the empty hallway. Eva is colour-coordinated, bright pink wig asymmetrically cut above her shoulders and fuchsia sneakers and a pair of rose-gold headphones over her ears. She wears a sharp black suit, pinstriped. She’s always been the best dressed. Anastasia, on the other hand, is sloppy. Half of her shirt flaps loose from her pants while the other half is tucked in. He wears a black tie, clipped-on, and a grey blazer stolen from someone else’s closet that’s two sizes too large, part of it sloughing off her shoulder and sitting halfway down her arm.

The tiny Russian turns, a hand in her pocket. Thin scars and fading cuts mark her face and the only bandage left is a horizontal Squirtle underneath her left eye. She pulls out a coin. Stares at it.

“You can use that, you know.”

Anastasia scowls at her.

“Money can be exchanged for goods and services,” Dawn continues.

“I know. But this isn’t enough,” Anastasia replies. She flips the coin through the air and it lands double-headed-eagle up in Dawn’s hand. A 1 vodaruble coin. A resource currency; trade it in for a dram of fresh water from some Siberian lake, or for something equally as valuable.

“Did it land face up?” she asks.

“Yeah, why.”

“Something feels wrong. Flip it again.”

The tone is commanding from such a small figure. But Dawn flips it again, and the double-eagle shows itself again.

“Keeps coming up heads.”

Dawn shrugs. “So?”

“Do not know. Bugging me.”

Dawn flips it and it comes up heads again.

“Maybe it’s just weighed weird?”

Anastasia shrugs. The cat at her feet stands and walks towards Dawn, who stands her ground. The black feline walks a figure-8 around and between her legs and then returns to Anastasia.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Friend of yours?”

Anastasia bends down to pet the cat, rubs its face and scratches between its ears.

“Marcel likes you.”

She picks him up and cradles him in her arms like a baby. The cat meows, either out of protest or confusion, but quickly settles into Anastasia’s arms.

“He is a big, big baby,” she says, and gently rocks the cat. Marcel’s eyes have small, thin pupils, and they look around the room, then at Dawn like he’s studying her.

“Look at him face, he is such a sweetie,” Anastasia keeps going, less taking to Dawn and more to the cat, pulling out a strange accent when she says ‘him face’ like she’s referencing a movie from years back. “Who is big bay-bee? You are big bay-bee.”

Is it really that surprising she’s a cat person?

Anastasia puts the cat back down, and the cat paces another figure-8 around Dawn and sits down in front of her. Marcel stares upwards with pale green eyes. Trills at her.

“He is good judge of character,” Anastasia says. “Marcel approves of your continued presence.”

“He better,” Dawn replies, and kneels down to cup Marcel’s face. She smooshes the cat’s face and scratches behind his ears and the cat closes his eyes before wandering off again, leaving Dawn looking like an idiot.

“He says break time’s over,” Anastasia tells Dawn, as Marcel pads off down the hallway in search of a rat or mouse or someone who will feed him. “Can I have my money back?”

Dawn flips the coin and Anastasia catches it. She rotates her hand palm up and opens her fist.

“Heads again.”

“You keeping track?”

“Informally. Do you have some money for the vending machine? I want bag of chips.”

Dawn sighs and digs through her pockets. She doesn’t carry coins because it’s not 1914 but she does have a credit chip, black and stamped with Ashara Wolfe’s name. She taps it against the machine’s screen and Anastasia taps the glass and the bag is pushed forwards. Blue, Ruffles, ‘all-dressed,’ whatever that means. She pulls it open and starts munching away without even offering Dawn a chip. Too much salt, too many carbs. Dawn would say no anyways. But still.

Her phone vibrates in the pocket of her dress pants. She pulls it out. Xiuying’s texted her.

Hello Miss dawn! This is jasmine

speaking

Dawn narrows her eyes.

Hi jazz. How do u have xiuying’s

phone?

She gave it to me! She is getting

a massage right now so she

wanted me to tell you about

what we discovered

Ooooooooooh im interested

Firstly I only got lost twice. She

tricked me by putting fake

books on the list of books i

was told to find

Yeah she’ll do that to ya lol

Did she also make you read that

holocaust book?

Holocaust book?

You might need to explain

Late Victorian holocausts. She

wants me to read it.

Oh yeah when she first met

jake and me she did the

same. She wants to turn u

into a communist like her

lmao

Miss Xuying is a communist?

Yeah. Don’t buy her schemes

they’ll just make u sad

and depressed and shit

But why? She doesn’t seem sad

or depressed

U get reality checked very hard.

you see the world a different way.

But how? I don’t want to be

brainwashed

Lol its not brainwashing, u just

start to pick up patterns that

you missed before.

Are you a communist, Miss

dawn?

Lol nah. Too much reading

for me. Im close enough

for her to tolerate me but

I don’t care about economic

policy like she does.

Well I was told that all

communists are evil and

want to destroy America

and white people but Miss

Xuying seemed very nice.

How do I break it to Jasmine that she’s already brainwashed?

Well jazz, do u know the

reputation that your

academy has

Not very much.

Well the world sees ur

academy as a cult

onboarding center

Cult?

Yea

But I believe in jesus!

Its complicated. You know

what? Tell Xiuying to meet

me at the Osiris bar tonight.

ur invited and we can talk

about your current situation

later

What time?

Does 9 pm tonight work?

I do not know. Can you

wait until she is done?

The door opens outwards, and a shockingly pale woman steps through the door. Nobody is sure whether the von Wolfe family came from the incest-side of European nobility or the Transylvanian vampire side of it. The odds are that they combined the two. Ashara Wolfe has the traditional, time-honoured, stone-cold vampire look that most Wolfes have; alabaster skin with jet black hair and a sharp, angular, almost diamond-shaped face, and her stunningly violet, totally bloodshot eyes. There’s also an aquiline nose that makes her resemble a Byzantine empress and the bags under her eyes that make her look like she hasn’t slept for a week. Maybe she hasn’t, but diet also plays a part. Under her all-black getup – turtleneck sweater and blazer and jeans and formal shoes – is a bone-thin frame that the wind could probably blow over. A diet of energy drinks isn’t enough to sustain oneself indefinitely and she reacts like a matching-polarity magnet when forced to go to the gym. Only cardio, no weights, and half the cardio is running as far away from the gymnasium as possible. No luck with the rowing machine either.

Ashara Wolfe. Energy drink Dracula and resident technomancer, and council stenographer – with the aid of a helpful speech-to-text program.

“We’re up, Dawn,” she says, voice low and husky. Just like Dawn’s own, but without the strange cross-continental accent. More Manhattan. She needs something to drink.

Dawn’s attention flies back to her phone…

I can wait lol. The book

is good, she just makes

everyone read it

And pockets it. Anastasia notices the presence of Ashara, and Eva notices Anastasia noticing Ash, and the two follow their fearless leader into the viper’s nest.