Clear as Day [Clear]

[Marlow (DELETED 6865)]

The heart.

The memory of digesting the heart was at the front of her mind, and she was unable to think of anything else, not even the cat who was walking around on Kika’s furniture smashing vases - and china as she walked proudly across the top couldn’t distract the Necromancer as she placed a finger to her temple. Rubbing it. She was preoccupied, wondering how Ambrose had managed to push memories - images, into her mind - images that were not her own, or memories that were not her own. She grumbled. Trying to figure it out, was annoying her. Hurting her brain as she used both fingers this time to rub the temple gently.

Kika’s apartment had become her home for both her, and her cat. A black cat that reminded her of Salem. From that childhood programme she had once seen when they owned a TV back in the caravan they had before they moved states. She had found the cat wandering outside in the trash cans, meowing for food. The cat had taken an instant liking to the vampire, allowing her to hold onto the poor feline. Two days later the cat was walking around like she owned the place. Kika was surely going to kill her if this cat breaks anymore things of hers.

Gulp.

She needed to get a few things from the mall for the cat, like more food - she had only gotten two cans, it was enough to last her today - but the cat was extremely thin she needed more food - she also needed toys by the sound of it. Kika’s things were not toys. Sticking on her shoes and heading over to the door. She looked at the cat sternly.

”Don’t break anymore things please. Kika will have my head if you do. I am rather fond of my head you see.” She gave the cat another quick pet and escaped through the door and made her way outside, the cold air was welcoming and a nice change, but she brought her jacket around her further - pretending to be human and all that. She made her way to the 8th Dimensional Mall, and slipped inside. She needed to get to the pet shop, her eyes cast over the various shops and the items they sold. Some were extremely pretty. Especially a lovely purple dress.

Through her window onlooking she didn’t realise she bumped right into someone’s shoulder, almost knocking herself off balance.

”I’m so sorry!” She said, very quickly.

[Clear (DELETED 7068)]

The nights here are beautiful, even if they are colder, darker and lonelier than I am used to. The nightlife in Cape Town is glorious and can even transform an early bird like me into a night owl. Victoria Road in Camps Bay is notorious for this transmutation and is known as the ‘sunset strip’ amongst locals and tourists alike. Camps Bay has tables on the pavement and on raised platforms – all the better to toast the setting sun. My friends and I have a favourite destination, Café Caprice. Overlooking Camps Bay beach and those spectacular sunsets, this beach bar-bistro gets the most out of the surf-sprayed air and the residual heat of the African sun while retaining the best views of the bay. The bar is most busy in summer when there is plenty of air-kissing between platinum blondes and bronze men – their bodies sculpted like Greek Divines. On some nights, a truly eclectic array of friendly and enthusiastic hedonists spill out onto the pavement like a wave upon the white sands, making the most out of what is on offer. Camps Bay is the ultimate retreat for the indulgent, the elite, the beautiful and the affluent. This seaside suburb offers a slice of the high life – opulent, luxurious settings for sun-downers, superior food and wine, and a level of glamour and sophistication rarely rivalled elsewhere in Cape Town.

I miss my home and I miss my friends. I miss being someone special to some degree as well – I am willing to admit that. Here, I am no one but a stranger and it is confusing to me how I can feel both at home and at sea in this city. I feel like Harper Rock has a lot to be explored and understood. I can see the fabric of the veil tearing with each passing day – the veil that keeps the unknowing in the unknown. Not everyone is so accepting of magic and divinity and darkness. They will sooner turn their noses up and dismiss the possibility here – in a civilised world. It is impossible to them that the things they do not know about or fully understand can exist beyond them and that makes people insecure about their existence. They see the supernatural as a threat or an object to exploit. They even use the word supernatural to define it as something that is beyond nature, when the truth of it is, this is simply another side of the natural world that man has yet to fully appreciate and acknowledge.

There are few people in our world who reveal themselves as magical, psychic, supernatural or whatever the defining label is. They are scared that they will be shunned, cast out, or worse – killed – because of their knowledge and skills. It is normal to feel this way. The survivor’s instinct makes us keep our secrets. I have been cautious too. I have a lot of secrets that I cannot share safely with others and that is another reason why I mourn my little world back in Cape Town. Harper Rock does not make me feel safe – not even a little. I feel as though there are always eyes on me, that whatever presence watches over us and makes decisions in our lives is paying particular attention to this spit of life in the snow and the ice. It makes me wonder if this presence I feel is so strong because there is so much activity here, or if the watchful eyes are attached to deciding brains and ailing hands – bringing the activity here in the first place.

These questions and these thoughts have set my brain on fire. I am not paying attention to what I am doing. I believe I am walking on auto-pilot as I turn a blind corner. I did not hear the approaching footsteps, the wind is at my back, blowing ebony hair in front of me as I stomp across the sidewalk. I do not suspect anything is to come to me until a weight, a cold and dead weight, impacts my shoulder. I blink myself awake, assuming I have hit a lamp post and to the surprise of my wide green eyes, I find a woman and not metal or concrete. Her obsidian eyes regard me with the same expression I am giving her. She did not expect to see me either, I feel. She apologises in the same instant that I do.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to bump shoulders with you.”

I know my accent is heavy on my words and can sometimes confuse people. Still, my English is good enough to compensate. I hope that this accidental bumping does not turn hostile, for I have had my fill of hostility in this city. I am not dressed to fight and bicker with strangers, but having had the chance to look her over, I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing. There is a vibe from this woman – a familiar and unfamiliar feeling. I decide I will take a chance.

“Are you ok?”

[Marlow (DELETED 6865)]

The woman that she bumps into is most definitely human. She could hear the woman’s heart beating within the confines of her chest. An aspect of this new life she still had no gotten used to it. It was the best way to tell who was human and who wasn’t these days. Their complexion no longer held any meaning. Some vampires could look completely human. They could look like they were gathering all the nutrients you needed to keep your skin looking healthy - young, and flushed. An art Marlow had not yet mastered. Up close, she looked pale. There was colour in her cheeks, sure but it was enough to tell you that this woman was possibly sick. Marlow had abstained herself from human blood. She refused to drink the blood of humans. She would not give into that urge, instead she found herself dining upon rabbits. She felt more at ease snapping their necks and draining them dry.

Despite what Ambrose had said - she refused to drink human blood, there was this thing that had been thrown around in the CrowNet. Masquerade. She wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was - only that it was a law, a law amongst vampires. Secrecy about our kin. It was easy enough to do, you simply do not drink the kool aid. That was all. No one would look twice at a bunch of rabbits going missing - there were foxes in the area she was sure, and foxes ate rabbits - it was the natural food chain. A missing human on the other hand? That was like putting a target upon your back. Marlow cherished her life too much to put it at risk.

Muddy brown eyes looked to this woman in front of her. She looked her over curiously. There was something - something she found endearing about her - her lips were stretched out into a thin line - but now they quirked upwards into a smile, she was apologising to Marlow for bumping into her, whilst Marlow did the same and apologised herself. She looked the woman’s outfit out - and smiled. Marlow felt completely undressed into her white poncho which covered most of the upper half of her body and her cargo trousers. The woman didn’t have many clothes of her own.

”I’m ok! I’m still sorry. I was caught looking at…” She pointed at the purple dress in the window. ”That” She laughed. ”Are you okay?”

[Clear (DELETED 7068)]

I smile and nod at her. Her excuse seems plausible and I look over to the dress at her direction. I am curious to see what kind of dress can grab a girl’s attention to the point she cannot look where she is going. I am no innocent party in the collision of course; my head was in the clouds when I walked, uncaringly, into the young woman in front of me. I feel heat rise in my cheeks and try to hide my shame behind my hair. I lock eyes with the dress in the window, poised perfectly on the mannequin with all the house tricks. Regardless of how that dress is actually cut, it is drawn around the slim waist of the mannequin and is pinned in place, producing that perfect hourglass figure. I feel this is dishonest. I cannot deny that the dress is beautiful, that its place in the lit-up window is deserved. Still, I feel hopelessly guilty about the fact that this deception has cost the woman a small amount of pride as we came to bump shoulders. My eyes flick over to her reflection to peak at her expression, but I cannot see her at all. I turn sharply to check that she is still there and she is. I glance back at the missing reflection. I do not know how to handle this.

I stammer like I am confronted by a ghost. I cannot think to answer her question because I feel as though I am not ok. It seems peculiar to acknowledge my alarm at bumping shoulders with a ghost – to the ghost. Does she not know what she is? She must not know if she is so… solid, I presume. I comb a nervous hand through my hair, feeling my fingernails grate at my skin as my hands tremble. I decide I must tuck them away, so I fold my arms across my chest. I feel like I should try my best to act as if nothing is wrong, to not cause this wandering spirit any undue angst. Finally, to her, I turn and smile with the whites of my mouth showing proudly.

“I am ok,” I say. “And that is a beautiful dress. What colour is that, damson?”

[Marlow (DELETED 6865)]

Marlow looked at the woman curiously. Her muddy brown hues looked her over when she was studying the dress in the window. She didn’t notice herself that she had no reflection. This whole vampire thing was still new to her - she was still learning about herself, and what she could do. The power she held was immense. She could at times see the wraiths around her. Chattering away with others like themselves. Marlow was fascinated at times by them. Studying them as she passed them on the streets. The way they floated inches above the ground. As she cast her eyes around now - she saw none within the vicinity.

”I think it’s damson.” She laughed a little. Turning those chocolate orbs back to the dress of discussion. Her eyes looked at the beautiful needlework. ”It’s too dark to be violet, that’s for sure. Whatever it is. I want it.” Her orbs went to the price tag as she outwardly laughed. A dress of that quality had to be worth the $12,000 they wanted for it. Marlow did own a business out on the outskirts of Harper Rock where she sold her dream catchers. Her sire; Kika and her husband Machk and Kitchi. They helped her also, pitching in where they could. It was an art she had learnt from her mother and father - find what you could on the streets and make trinkets out of them.

”Whatever it is, it is beautiful.” She admired it further. Transfixed by the material before turning her hues to the woman. ”I’m sorry I must be keeping you from matters. I apologize” If she could flush, she would have.

[Clear (DELETED 7068)]

As we continue to talk, I am distracted by passers-by. I worry they will think I am crazy as I am talking to the air. As they pass, however, the crowd make the effort to manoeuvre around this woman as well. I begin to wonder if they can see her too, if they can hear her and perceive her like she is really there. If they can… is she not a ghost after all? I turn back to the window for a moment, reassessing my imagination for it can wander and I have been known to dream while I am awake. I think my eyes are just deceiving me, that I am somehow mistaken, but the facts remain the same. I look into the window and only see myself and the people passing us both by. This woman… whoever or whatever she is… she is most certainly a person of interest, a supernatural spirit that I have yet to encounter before.

Hearing her apologise brings me out of my thoughts and I wave away her concerns, smiling brightly.

“No, no. I have no plans tonight but to make plans. You are not keeping me,” I explain heartily.

I want to ask her questions, difficult questions, so I need to have her warm up to me first. I stick out a hand and introduce myself. I realise that I am being overly familiar with a stranger and can only hope that my bold approach does not make her skittish.

“My name is Clear,” I offer – naively because it is honestly my name. “What do I call my fellow fashionista?”

[Marlow (DELETED 6865)]

She sticks out her hand, and offers her name. Clear. What a peculiar name. Marlow doesn’t mind so much, considering her own name. What kind of name was Marlow? She takes the woman’s hand into her own and gives it the firm one - two shake. Marlow’s hands are cold within the humans. The Necomancer forgets that she is dead somethings - unaware that she is cold to everyone else around her, it’s just something she will have to get used to in time. Something she will learn, and fast.

”Marlow” She tells her with a large, pearly white smile.

She’s proud of her name - the name handed down to her from her parents, her grandmother was named Marlow. She was named after her. She was proud of that, considering she never got to meet the woman her mother used to speak so highly of. She had died. Heart attack, she had been told.

”No plans?” She questions as she thinks for a moment. ”Let’s go find a nearby cafe and get to know one another. I barely know anyone here. I’m new to town. Perhaps this would be a great opportunity for me to make some friends.”

She gave the woman in front of her a coy smile. She had no intention of eating her. She simply wanted to make friends - have company for the night. She linked her own arm through Clears and began to lead her towards a nearby cafe.

[Clear (DELETED 7068)]

There is a sense of relief and foreboding when the woman shakes my hand, smiles at me and offers her name. Marlow. I do not know of such a name, but I like the way it rolls off the tongue. It sounds both familiar and alien to me, and I notice that the same impression can be said of this woman overall. We are strangers, but I feel as though she has the potential to be a friend – despite the fact that she has no reflection. At first it was an alarming discovery. My grandmother, who taught me these gifts of clairvoyance, healing and protection, would say sometimes that it was the spirits who granted her power. Later in her life, she used to whisper in my ear and tell me secrets about the kinds of spirits she had seen and what they said to her. Although my grandmother was a known sagoma and inyanga, which means she was a healer and fortune teller, my mother dismissed the idea that my grandmother could literally talk to the dead. My mother was ashamed of her own mother, the same as she is ashamed of me, I suppose. My grandmother’s gifts were reserved mainly for healing and helping purposes, but she was not without the ability to ward off evil spirits. If she could see the bad spirits, it seems to be perfectly logical that she could see the good ones as well. I am still unsure what Marlow is, but I sense good in her. When she takes my arm, I do not resist or struggle; I oblige her want to go somewhere and talk.

I am just about getting my bearings within Harper Rock, having been here for a few months, so I know where we are and where we might be heading. We pass the boutique stores – their windows lit up with shining treasures on display – and continue down the avenue to the nearest café. The scent of coffee reels us in like dead fish on a line. The smell alone can wake you, stir you. I do not feel the smile on my face as we enter, but I am aware of it as we pull open the polished glass doors. I am aware again of Marlow’s missing reflection and instinctively glance toward her. My smile becomes momentarily weak, the brightness replaced by doubt. I am worried for her, for how she might feel when it becomes clear I am aware of her situation. I will try for now not to make a mention of it. It feels like I will be committing a faux pas to say a word! If she is the one to mention it, though, I will do my best to reassure her that I am not afraid, just very, very curious.

“I have not been inside before,” I confess as I pause a moment, just inside the door.

I look around, hunting out the details of the modern coffee shop since I am no longer looking in from the outside. I feel as though I am indulging in some secret, exclusive pleasure. It is so bright inside and the glossy white furniture, the chequered floor, the bevelled tiles, the chandeliers and the polished, perfect people certainly exemplify this sense of elitist delight. It has the splendid comfort and sophistication of a spa, and the smell… Invigorating. I cannot deny that I am in awe and want nothing more than to spoil myself. I am a very spoilt child.

[Marlow (DELETED 6865)]

Clear doesn’t attempt to run away when Marlow takes her arm. That was a good sign, so she begins to lead her down the street. Heading for a little modern cafe that she did like to spend her time in sometimes since being here. It was good to assume you were humans sometimes - a cup of coffee in front of you, untouched of course but she could get some reading done there. She was currently reading Da Vinchi’s code. It was such a lovely read, much to do with the religion, and Marlow did like learn about religion. Despite her own cherokee heritage and teachings.

It doesn’t take them long to reach the small cafe. They stand at the threshold, she takes note that her reflection isn’t showing - she glances at her companion on her arm, the woman is still smiling. Marlow assumed the woman hadn’t seen it so she quickly opens the door removing the illusive reflection of hers and she steps inside. She turns to look at Clear who was still standing at the threshold as if she needed to be invited inside.

”It’s lovely in here, the staff are quite nice too.”

Marlow smiles and encourages her to come inside, the smell of freshly ground coffee fills her nostrils and she feels like a kid at a candy shop. She heads straight up to the counter and begins to scan the menu, it saddens the vampire that she cannot drink the beverage. She would fake it in this instance, she just loved to be in here.

”What’s your poison, I’m buying. For bumping into you.”

Marlow beamed her brightest smile at her human companion.

[Clear (DELETED 7068)]

She beckons me in and I feel so relaxed in her presence that it is as though she has bewitched me – how ironic. Not that I would ever actually bewitch someone because I neither possess the will or power to do so. Despite popular belief, being a Witch is not about Voodoo and Black Magic and Summoning Demons. The world is not black and white – light and dark. Nothing is so wholly evil and nothing is so wholly pure as they cannot find a middle ground. This is something I have always believed. I have always believed in balance, it is the way of nature to find equality in everything. It is when the world tilts one way or the other that we find danger. When there is too much light, the dark grows envious in our hearts and we shield our eyes from its burning brightness. When there is too much darkness, we cannot see either and we miss the light. People cannot exist in either extreme.

Marlow proceeds to the service counter and I follow so willingly that the people here might think that there is an invisible leash between us. Or they might not. Perhaps I am just being silly once again and overthinking it – just one of my many, many curses.

“But… I bumped into you as well,” I offer, singing like a Jay. “If you are to buy a drink for me, I must also buy a drink for you.”

I am not certain of the customs in this country, but this seems logical to me. We were both at fault for our collision so it is only fair that I compensate Marlow in the same manner that she wishes to compensate me. I pull forth my small clutch bag, the black crystals on its skin are twinkling in the bright light as I withdraw my purse. The suede-like Gucci print over the black leather purse indicates how much of a slave I am to fashion. Honestly, I love clothes so much that if I had the time, I would create my own fashion label.

“What would you like, Marlow?” I grin. “I am a double espresso kind of woman.”