A serialised novel of sunless planets, hallucinogenic mushrooms, daemons, and... pizza rats. đđ
New chapters posted every Tuesday!
Available Chapters â Content Warnings
Sevi resumed her bartending duties and Ginx turned her back to the bar, her gaze drawn to the smoky dancefloor. A cage ran around the edgeâan effort by Caggotty to keep the inevitable fights away from the valuable bar area. People launched themselves at the steel mesh, catapulting into a crowd herded together like roaches in a protein farm. Their teeth shone blue and ghostly in the blacklight. Ginx glanced down at her thin jacket and rubbed uselessly at the white crumbs scattered across the lapels. She had no idea what the crumbs wereâcould have been makeup, stim, or shroom spores for all she knewâbut they always glistened bright as diamond dust in the UV-soaked womb of the Bunker.
Beyond the dancefloor was the alcove where Tattie plied her dubious trade. Ginx met the seerâs eyes, gave her a small half-wave. Tattie nodded in return. She looked tired. Her hair wasnât backcombed as high as usual, and her expression was wan and distracted.
Tattie was always polite, but something about her gave Ginx the creeps. The legend, The Blue Bunker presents Tattiana the Blood Seer, was spelled out in strips of luminous green above her head. The chartreuse light fought with a small collection of artificial candles, creating a sinister pooling of light and shadow. Ginx was surprised Caggotty hadnât gone as far as installing a smoke machine in there. Tattie presided over the table wedged at its crushed red velvet heart like a medium holding court at a seanceâwhich Ginx supposed she was, if you believed the bull about hemo freaks.
Teeth and Leather Jacket were sitting on the bench in front of Tattieâs table, both goggling over some revolting piece of viscera ladled into an ashy glass bowl. Hemo magick promised many things. You could contact the dead. You could divine your future or manifest a wish, but Ginxâs problem with it was in the execution. It was all amphibianâs blood and donated sperm. It was gross, and when Tattie was working on the other side of the club, she usually tried to ignore her. Still, she couldnât help wondering what Teeth and Leather Jacket had paid for. Tattie would never tell her, of course. Blood seers traded in secrets. If word spread that they snitched, theyâd never find work again.
Ginx almost dropped her beer when Toni vaulted over the bar. She landed heavily at her side and sprinted towards the dancefloor, elbowing people out of her way. Ginx chugged a last mouthful of beer before following her into the crowd. Pushing past an aging caprattler who cursed her in several languages, she finally saw what had alerted Toni. A teenager was swaying at the center of the dancefloor, the whites of his eyes red and dank as freeze-dried liver. His mouth was stretched comically wide, frothing with a yellow, creamy substance. Someone had sold the kid bad caps.
âGrab him,â Toni yelled, reaching for a flailing arm.
Ginx ran to the teenagerâs side and seized him around the waist, staggering beneath his weight when he slumped against her.
âHow is he so heavy?â she said. âHe looks like a ceiling fan could blow him away.â
âJust help me get him to the Hole.â
Moving awkwardly against the resistant horde of clubbers, Ginx and Toni manoeuvred the sweating teenager through the club and out into the corridor. Hidden beneath a poster advertising Gunnyâs Self-Cleaning Wigs was the door to the Holeâa musty little room housing a single plastic bench and a first aid kit. It was another of Caggottyâs brainwaves. He refused to have husk patrols anywhere near the club, so everything had to be dealt with in-houseâincluding underage clubbers tripping on bad caps.
Someone had actually died on the property once. A woman glassed a man in the face and heâd bled out on the dancefloor, surrounded by shrieking onlookers and belligerent dancers who refused to give up their hard-won spot just because a man was bleeding to death at their feet. Caggotty had hauled the body out himself, called for pick-up to take it away, and closed the Bunker early for the first time in twelve years. After that, he switched out glasses for plastic cups.
Ginx and Toni hauled the teenagerâtwitching now, his limbs loose and spasmingâonto the bench. He flipped onto his side, staring at the pooling expanse of creamy foam that fell from his gaping mouth to splatter against the floor.
âStupid sod,â Toni said. She reached for the first aid kit and rummaged inside. âThis is the third in a week. Someoneâs holding a bad batch.â
âIt wonât be Traci. Sheâd slice the hands off any supplier who palmed her crap like this.â
The teenager began to gurgle. He lifted glossy liver eyes to the ceiling, his waxy face a study in rapture. Toni found a stim pen and stabbed it into his chest. His expression turned to angry shock as the foam cascading from his mouth slowed and the mad light in his eyes dimmed.
âWill he be alright?â Ginx said.
âHeâll sleep it off. Heâll have a bitch of a headache in the morning, though. Probably two swollen eyes and a facial twitch too. Serves him right.â
Toni went to inform Caggotty about the Holeâs latest occupant while Ginx drifted back into the club. She was considering a third beer when the laser projectors installed around the perimeterâusually blinking in blue and purple sparsâshut down for the space of a breath. Then they whirred back to life, throwing out arms of shimmering red. Regulars knew this meant the caps were off, spiked, or generally shittier than usual. There would be no more customers for Traci-Lynn that evening. Several wall-leaners surreptitiously thumbed small packets back into their pockets.
Red the colour of a fresh wound blinked once, twice. The projectors turned towards the wall, rousing to throw a notice across the ceiling in blue and white: Blue Mamba 2 for 1 â Next 10 minutes only! Dancersâ heads winked azure beneath the reaching fingers of the flashing lights as a cheer rumbled through the building.
âBloody Caggotty,â Toni said, reappearing beside her. âNow weâre gonna get rammed.â
She raced back to the bar as the first wave of eager takers crowded in. Ginx caught Sevi raising an eyebrow in Toniâs direction before they were both lost to view.
âYou want a blue mamba?â
Luke had sought her out again. If Ginx didnât know better, sheâd have thought it was on purpose.
âYouâve got no chance getting to the bar,â she said, nodding towards the crowd swelling before Toni and Sevi. âI thought youâd gone home.â
âItâs early yet. You think that kid will be okay?â
âYes, the little idiot will be fine.â
Luke glanced at Tattieâs alcove. âShall we get our fortunes told?â
Ginx almost laughed at him. She bit the instinct back and shook her head. âIâm not into that hemo stuff.â
He looked disappointed. The projectors were back to hurling blue and purple strobes across the club and a long sapphire beam flashed across his face, casting his profile in silver relief and highlighting the firm angle of his jaw.
âWe could do something else,â Ginx suggested. âThereâs a prophecy phone upstairs.â
A dull metal staircase was curled like a rigid snake in the corner of the club. When Luke agreed to follow her up, Ginx had to grip the handrail tight to keep her stim-deprived fingers from shaking. She walked quickly, berating herself for not letting him go first. Now he had a face-first view of her ascending arse.
Bypassing the viewing platform that hung over the dancefloor, Ginx led Luke into a long room set back from the landing. It was a more relaxed space than the main club, furnished with sofas sagging with old rips and swathed in so much tape, they looked like misshapen mummies. Caggotty had installed a second bar up there but closed it when it failed to turn a profit.
âThe phoneâs over here,â she said.
The clubâs upper level was quiet. Too quiet. Mustarian lute metal leaked from cheap speakers in the ceiling. Apart from a bearded man sleeping in a corner and a small group of inebriated blow-ins, the place was deserted.
The quiet didnât seem to bother Luke. He grinned at the prophecy phone hooked up against the far wall.
âI love these things. I used one years ago. It said I was going to lose something I held dear. Came true, too. The week after that, a mushmute ate my first guitar.â
Ginx wanted to ask him more about the mushmute and the devoured guitar. She imagined it must have been a fairly traumatic experience, but Luke was already picking up the fat black receiver and listening for a dial tone. He ran a finger down the list of options printed on a sticker, already beginning to peel from the phoneâs angular, green-chrome side. Scribbled across the top of the box were the words, âThis fone, no shit!â The graffiti made an arresting contrast with the paper cup half full of chewed-up pumpkin seeds someone had dumped beside it.
âWhat should we ask it?â he said.
âI donât know. Iâve never used one.â
Luke turned to her with an incredulous expression. âReally? You should definitely go first, then.â
He offered her the receiver. It was surprisingly heavy and when Ginx lifted it to her ear, the chirruping tone grated against her eardrum. She scanned the peeling options, unable to choose between, âFirst letter of your future loverâs nameâ, or, âDate of your deathâ. Finally, she scanned her wrist across the phoneâs tiny screen, waited for the credits to transfer, and selected, âNext travel destinationâ. It seemed a safe enough choice. Luke pressed his ear to the back of the receiver, straining to hear what the phone would prophesy.
The tone cut short with a strangled squawk and a womanâs voice came on the line, robotic and soothing.
âThank you for using Foneline to Destiny. We hope you have a pleasant experience. You wish to know what your next travel destination will be. Please stand by.â
A series of long beeps followed.
âIs is broken?â Ginx said.
âNo, thatâs the phone deciding your destiny. Give it a minute.â
Lukeâs breath tickled the side of her face. With a jolt she tried very hard to conceal, Ginx realised she had never been this close to him before. His skin smelled like cool-mint soap.
âYou donât really believe a phone can tell the future, do you?â she said.
Luke shrugged against her shoulder. âI believe lots of things.â
The beeping faded away and the soothing robotic woman returned. âYou will soon be embarking on a journey,â she said. âThe road will be long. It will take you far from home. Thank you again for using Foneline to Destiny. Have a wonderful morning.â
Ginx replaced the reciever a little too forcefully. âWell, that was a load of crap. Iâm never seeing those credits again, and I can barely make rent this month as it is.â
âWhy do you think itâs crap?â
âBecause Iâm not going on a journey. Iâll be stuck here forever.â
âYou donât know that. Maybe Iâll get a gig playing Lobo or Mustara. You can join my crew.â
Luke was still standing extremely close to Ginx. So close that if she wanted to kiss him, sheâd only have to incline her head. They stared at each other while she tried to decide if she should move away first, or if Luke was actually waiting for her to kiss him. She almost did it, almost leaned forward that further half an inch. Then Luke turned to the phone and lifted the receiver from its greasy cradle.
âIâm going to ask it how rich Iâm going to be.â
Ginx slumped back against the wall and thought again about getting a third beer.
This week, Iâm wondering, would you trust your credits with Tattiana the Blood Seer or the Foneline to Destiny?
Content Warnings
Alcohol use, description of death, description of drug overdose, mild swearing