Contego Chapter 1

         The girl opened her eyes. It was kind of dark, but she could see that the room had white walls, a white ceiling. She furrowed her brows. Her mind felt hazy, like something was blocked. Who was she? Where was she? A sudden burst of fear coursed through her, which she quickly, instinctively, suppressed. Taking a deep breath, the girl sat up slowly. A wave of nausea hit her and she clutched her stomach, leaning over the edge of the bed she had been asleep on, vomiting bile and mucus, then dry heaving. Her stomach empty and sore, she slowly got off of the bed, using it and the wall for balance. Her legs felt weak, almost like jelly, and she had trouble standing. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. The air was dank and sour smelling, and tasting. Almost like death. She carefully skirted the bile and vomit on the floor. She suddenly stopped, listening. She heard a quiet, quick pattering of feet outside the room, and a peculiar groaning, cracking and banging coming from the wall she was leaning against. She closed her eyes, just listening.

         The wall suddenly bulged out in front of her, and she leaped back, falling to the ground. A snout, long and black, with sharp teeth broke through the wall. She slowly stood up, her legs wobbly, her entire body shaking with the strain of holding herself up. She watched the snout move slightly to the side, snuffling. She felt hypnotized by the creature, and was drawn to it. She took slow, hesitating steps towards it, as a single eye stared at her. She stopped just out of reach of the creature's snout. It lunged towards her, barely grazing her arm. She shuddered at the slight pain, but didn't move back. The snout was pulled back into the blackness and an arm with long claws reached out, trying to grab her. She twisted back, grabbing a claw, and the wrist of the creature, pulling back. She dislocated the joint, and ripped the claw off the hand. An inhuman, unearthly scream sounded, filling her ears, her head. Her body shook with fear, and at the unnatural exertion needed to pull the claw to her.

         A sudden light appeared on the other side of the room. The girl spun around, lifting her injured arm to shield her eyes from the offending lights. Her other hand, the one gripping the claw, stung. Who was she?

         “Oh no...” a voice muttered in Russian. The girl was almost surprised that she understood almost perfectly. She tried to speak, but started coughing instead. A figure approached her, rubbing her back, trying to help her subside the coughing. “Easy there, just take a deep breath,” the voice said quietly. The girl did, just breathing. She touched her throat, noting how dry it felt.

         “Water,” she choked out in English. It had a mild accent in it, but it was hard to decipher from where. A cold object was pushed into her hand, and she slowly sipped the water, knowing that it would make her sick if she drank too fast. She searched for the right words in Russian, but gave up. “Thank you, sir.” she murmured. A faint tinkling of laughter filled her ears. In comparison to the monster's scream, the laughter was fully soothing.

         “You are very welcome, miss,” the voice replied. It was male, the girl noted. He smelled like some sort of alcohol. The alcohol was vodka. She crinkled her nose in mild disgust. “Do you know who you are?” The girl thought, silent. The name 'Alyxiz' suddenly came to her, but something felt wrong. She shook her head.

         “No.”

         “I see. My name is Vladimir Miroslava. I will call you... Karga for now.”

         “Karga?”

         “You remind me of a crow.”

         “I... see.”

         “You have amnesia.”

         “Really? I hadn't noticed... Thanks for notifying me of this.”

         “Sarcastic as well, I see.”

         “Well, what do you expect, Miroslava. I don't know who I am.”

         “Miroslava is it... I haven't heard that tone taken with me in a century.”

         “What?”

         “Nothing, Karga... Come with me.”

         “Where?”

         “You're an illegal in this area of the city. I have to report you to city officials,” stated Vladimir.

         The girl stilled. “My name is Axelle Morel. No officials.” The girl lifted her head, pride in her face, but fear in her eyes. “Judging by the fact that we are still here tells me that you really have no intention of reporting me to anyone. You're--”

         “Axelle Morel, is it? But you just said that you don't know your name.”

         “You asked if I knew who I was, not if I knew my name.”

         “I'll still call you Karga. Come on, girl.”

         “No.” She lifted her hand, the claw clenched in her fist. She knew instinctively that the officials were not who she wanted to see, and she would fight to stay away from them. The man stilled.

         “That claw, where did you get it?” he asked. She looked at him, then at the claw.

         “The wall.” She pointed behind her. He looked over at the hole in the dry wall.

         “Are you saying you ripped that claw off of one of our formerly mythological creatures?”

         “I don't know, did I?”

         “Your arm... You're injured!”

         “What of it? It's just a scratch and bruise.”

         “Just... Just! You don't even know what that was, do you?”

         “No. I don't really care either. It had a long black snout, and long claws. That's all I saw.”

         “Drat it! You have to come with me, Axelle, my dear. You have to be treated, and we have to get your identification so you can walk about freely within the City.”

         “What?”

         “I have different officials than the others within the City. You say your name is Axelle Morel?”

         “Uh, yes.”

         “Of course. Don't let anyone else know that you have amnesia, my dear.”

         “That's only common sense.”

         “I'll point out certain people who you can trust. Certain people you can tell everything too, others, not a damn thing.”

         “I'll decide on my own, Miroslava. I might not have a memory, but I'm not stupid.” He looked her up and down and smirked. The cloth night shirt she was wearing was stained with blood. Her long, thick, curly blond hair was a tangled mess. She had dark circles under her hazel eyes, and blood spattered on her fair face. She seemed oblivious to it all.

         “We'll see about that. Follow me.”

         The girl followed him out of the room, the claw still in her hand, her head held high. But she was subconsciously storing everything to memory, taking mental pictures of everything. Every direction, every turn, any faces she saw on the wall, or in the halls. The walls themselves were white, like the room, with fluorescent lights.

         “It's very bright.”

         “Sensitive eyes?”

         “Apparently that's what happens when you walk into a brightly lit hallway from a dark room...”

         “You're very sarcastic, Axelle.”

         “Is that a problem?”

         “Only if you've got nothing to back it up with.”

         She glared at the back of the Russian's head. Vladimir Miroslava. She felt she knew him from before. His dark hair, his crystal blue eyes. He was so familiar.

         “Did I know you?” He stopped and turned and looked at her, his eyes sad.

         “Maybe in one life.”