Andras' Payment.
The church was on the edge of the forest miles from town and Jazz was beginning to wonder if this was a bad idea. Forests didn’t scare her, and going alone didn’t scare her. She was the big bad wolf in this story, after all. Andras needed her to get whatever this stupid rock was, though. Whenever a demon needed something, Jazz got a bad feeling.
It wasn’t a task she could get out of, not without informing everyone she made a deal with a devil to have her father killed. Hiring a supernatural contract killer was probably best kept secret, so here she was. Alone. In the woods. Next to church that looked like it had seen better days. The colors had all faded, the paint peeling away in large patches. The wood she could see looked like it was rotting. She tried the front door only to find the lock had rusted shut. The door rudely refused to be kicked or shoved in, so Jazz walked along the edge of the building to try and find another door.
Three laps later, she resigned herself to breaking a window like a common thug. Rocks were hard to find, buried under the unbroken snow. There seemed to be no dead branches either. Unsettled, Jazz realized there wasn’t any sound either. No birds, no mammals, there weren’t even any old tracks.
“Leave it to Andras to send me on this shit,” she muttered to herself. The silence only seemed louder after she spoke. “Fucking perfect.”
Removing her scarf, Jazz wrapped it around her hand and punched in the lowest window. After a few minutes of quiet cursing, pulling, and shoving at the window, she managed to get it open enough to slip inside.
Immediately, she wanted to leave. The inside was pristine, just a single room made up the entire church. The pews were all polished wood and clean dark red carpet covered the floor from wall to wall. Uneven candles flickered along the wall behind the pulpit, the dark blue color making them stand out against the painfully white walls. There were no crosses, no pictures, no signs of faith.
Jazz also couldn’t smell anything.
Biting her tongue against another string of swears, she tried to focus on the mission. She checked the pews before heading to the pulpit. A small brown box sat behind it, the corners splintered and rough. Something bad was going to happen as soon as she touched it, but there weren’t many options here. She took a deep breath, only to jump at the distinct chime of glass. Jazz looked around frantically, eyes finally landing on the window she’d broken to get it. It was shut now, and disturbingly whole.
“Shit.”
Forgetting the box, Jazz jogged over to the window, trying to get it open. It wasn’t budging. Something bounced off the outside of the window and Jazz jumped backward. Whatever it was, it was bigger than a bird. Another thump came from the window farthest from her, then another, then another. They grew louder, more frequent. She grit her teeth and moved closer to the window to try and catch a glimpse of what exactly was out there.
Three large talons on a bright blue foot slammed on the glass in front of Jazz’s face. She moved to the side automatically, but there was no need as the glass didn’t give way. The creature moved back into the moonlight and Jazz recognized the Wolpertinger from Blue’s stories. It was a fat rabbit for the most part, with fangs, antlers, and the wings and feet of eagles for good measure.
“Fucking hell, I hate Germany.” She sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face and heading back toward the box. It lay open on the floor, black velvet spilling out onto the floor. Resting on the fabric was what looked like a large, pale blue marble.
“I better not be freezing my ass off so you can play marbles, Andras.” Jazz kind of wishes that’s all this was. The second she picks up the rock, voices claw at her mind, thousands and thousands overlapping in one painful moment. Names, dates, quotes, facts, lifetimes of knowledge grating against each other to be known.
Jazz dropped the rock with gasp.
It sizzled as it hit the ground, a voice hissing “Eindringling” as soon as the rock settled. The word echoed, somehow sounding like multiple voices at once. The high pitched voice of a child was layered upon an inhumane growl of words. This is why Jazz hated when demons needed things.
“Es wäre besser, wenn Sie jetzt gingen,” it continued. Jazz hesitated. If she spoke a lick of German, this might not be so unsettling.
“Geh weg!” the voice growled, the higher tone of the child disappearing as the growl overtook it. Jazz grabbed the black velvet from the box and used it to pick up the rock. She wrapped it up and shoved it in her coat pocket. A voice wasn’t going to stop her.
Jazz was stopped halfway to the window by a small woman who appeared out of nowhere. She was short, only four feet tall, but she was inhumanely beautiful. The woman was dresses in a long white dress.
“Das Auge,” she said, her voice starting off like the child’s before abruptly shifting to the growl, “ist nicht dein!” Jazz managed to get her coat off before the woman threw her against the wall. Jazz knocked over the pulpit, already in wolf form as she hit the wall and fell to the floor. The flames on the candles flared, lapping at the ceiling.
Jazz gnashed her fangs, but the woman only looked blankly at her in reply. At a loss as to what she was fighting, or how to fight it, Jazz charged the woman and leapt for her throat.
Jazz sailed right through her, landing hard on the ground. The woman turned to look curiously at her, and Jazz was close enough to see now that the woman had no pupils.
“Onkel Fuchs kind?” The pale figure reacted to the noise a few seconds before the thumping on the windows began to grow louder, more frantic. The windows darkened with Wolpertinger, talons scrapping the windows and roof.
“Weg!” the woman cried. The door flew open behind Jazz and the woman stared at it with wide eyes.
Not caring to find out why, Jazz bolted over to her jacket and snatched it up between her teeth. She ran as fast as she could out of the door and in the direction of town. Dozens of Wolpertinger gave chase, swooping down to claw at her back while she ran. One by one they fell back, disappearing with the forest.
Jazz only stopped when she was in sight of civilization, cars and buildings and people well within hearing range. There was smoke lazily winding up from the forest when she looked back. Winded, bleeding and still unnerved, she pressed a paw against her jacket to make sure the rock was still in the pocket. Somehow it was.
This had better be fucking worth it.
It wasn’t a task she could get out of, not without informing everyone she made a deal with a devil to have her father killed. Hiring a supernatural contract killer was probably best kept secret, so here she was. Alone. In the woods. Next to church that looked like it had seen better days. The colors had all faded, the paint peeling away in large patches. The wood she could see looked like it was rotting. She tried the front door only to find the lock had rusted shut. The door rudely refused to be kicked or shoved in, so Jazz walked along the edge of the building to try and find another door.
Three laps later, she resigned herself to breaking a window like a common thug. Rocks were hard to find, buried under the unbroken snow. There seemed to be no dead branches either. Unsettled, Jazz realized there wasn’t any sound either. No birds, no mammals, there weren’t even any old tracks.
“Leave it to Andras to send me on this shit,” she muttered to herself. The silence only seemed louder after she spoke. “Fucking perfect.”
Removing her scarf, Jazz wrapped it around her hand and punched in the lowest window. After a few minutes of quiet cursing, pulling, and shoving at the window, she managed to get it open enough to slip inside.
Immediately, she wanted to leave. The inside was pristine, just a single room made up the entire church. The pews were all polished wood and clean dark red carpet covered the floor from wall to wall. Uneven candles flickered along the wall behind the pulpit, the dark blue color making them stand out against the painfully white walls. There were no crosses, no pictures, no signs of faith.
Jazz also couldn’t smell anything.
Biting her tongue against another string of swears, she tried to focus on the mission. She checked the pews before heading to the pulpit. A small brown box sat behind it, the corners splintered and rough. Something bad was going to happen as soon as she touched it, but there weren’t many options here. She took a deep breath, only to jump at the distinct chime of glass. Jazz looked around frantically, eyes finally landing on the window she’d broken to get it. It was shut now, and disturbingly whole.
“Shit.”
Forgetting the box, Jazz jogged over to the window, trying to get it open. It wasn’t budging. Something bounced off the outside of the window and Jazz jumped backward. Whatever it was, it was bigger than a bird. Another thump came from the window farthest from her, then another, then another. They grew louder, more frequent. She grit her teeth and moved closer to the window to try and catch a glimpse of what exactly was out there.
Three large talons on a bright blue foot slammed on the glass in front of Jazz’s face. She moved to the side automatically, but there was no need as the glass didn’t give way. The creature moved back into the moonlight and Jazz recognized the Wolpertinger from Blue’s stories. It was a fat rabbit for the most part, with fangs, antlers, and the wings and feet of eagles for good measure.
“Fucking hell, I hate Germany.” She sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face and heading back toward the box. It lay open on the floor, black velvet spilling out onto the floor. Resting on the fabric was what looked like a large, pale blue marble.
“I better not be freezing my ass off so you can play marbles, Andras.” Jazz kind of wishes that’s all this was. The second she picks up the rock, voices claw at her mind, thousands and thousands overlapping in one painful moment. Names, dates, quotes, facts, lifetimes of knowledge grating against each other to be known.
Jazz dropped the rock with gasp.
It sizzled as it hit the ground, a voice hissing “Eindringling” as soon as the rock settled. The word echoed, somehow sounding like multiple voices at once. The high pitched voice of a child was layered upon an inhumane growl of words. This is why Jazz hated when demons needed things.
“Es wäre besser, wenn Sie jetzt gingen,” it continued. Jazz hesitated. If she spoke a lick of German, this might not be so unsettling.
“Geh weg!” the voice growled, the higher tone of the child disappearing as the growl overtook it. Jazz grabbed the black velvet from the box and used it to pick up the rock. She wrapped it up and shoved it in her coat pocket. A voice wasn’t going to stop her.
Jazz was stopped halfway to the window by a small woman who appeared out of nowhere. She was short, only four feet tall, but she was inhumanely beautiful. The woman was dresses in a long white dress.
“Das Auge,” she said, her voice starting off like the child’s before abruptly shifting to the growl, “ist nicht dein!” Jazz managed to get her coat off before the woman threw her against the wall. Jazz knocked over the pulpit, already in wolf form as she hit the wall and fell to the floor. The flames on the candles flared, lapping at the ceiling.
Jazz gnashed her fangs, but the woman only looked blankly at her in reply. At a loss as to what she was fighting, or how to fight it, Jazz charged the woman and leapt for her throat.
Jazz sailed right through her, landing hard on the ground. The woman turned to look curiously at her, and Jazz was close enough to see now that the woman had no pupils.
“Onkel Fuchs kind?” The pale figure reacted to the noise a few seconds before the thumping on the windows began to grow louder, more frantic. The windows darkened with Wolpertinger, talons scrapping the windows and roof.
“Weg!” the woman cried. The door flew open behind Jazz and the woman stared at it with wide eyes.
Not caring to find out why, Jazz bolted over to her jacket and snatched it up between her teeth. She ran as fast as she could out of the door and in the direction of town. Dozens of Wolpertinger gave chase, swooping down to claw at her back while she ran. One by one they fell back, disappearing with the forest.
Jazz only stopped when she was in sight of civilization, cars and buildings and people well within hearing range. There was smoke lazily winding up from the forest when she looked back. Winded, bleeding and still unnerved, she pressed a paw against her jacket to make sure the rock was still in the pocket. Somehow it was.
This had better be fucking worth it.