Knave of Pentacles: Creative Journal Entry 5

Creative Journal Entry #5
Tarot Deck- Gothic Tarot of Vampires
Tarot Card- Knave of Pentacles

Victor walked down the dark halls, his heels clicking softly on the stone beneath his feet where he had his mothers rugs stripped away and burned, that was after all the mirrors had come down and shattered but before the tapestries and portraits had been dumped into the slop filled moat around his castle; he did not want to be reminded of the life he had lost.
All of the servants had been dismissed, they had been told to take the share of the food the animals and the horses but not to touch a single coin of his family’s coffers, the servants had fled, thinking their master had taken leave of his mind or was getting ready to die.
Victor sneered and produced a large skeleton key and slid it into hey hole of the door in front of him. They were half right; he was already dead.
“We are in a black mood, Victor?” his curser asked pleasantly, giving him a mocking half bow and smile.
“Yes, Bane, we are, did you need something?” Viktor asked, clenching his teeth to hold in the blistering reply that was burning his mouth in an attempt to get free.
“No, you’re taste in humans is pathetic really, I was just going to tell you that I’m leaving… got good,” Bane said, bushing his curly black hair out of his face.
“What?” Victor turned on him, his green and gold eyes wide. “You can’t leave now! I don’t know so many things and you are an ancient.”
“Yes I am,” Bane looked at him with a bit of tenderness, “Victor, you know I can’t teach you anymore than I already have. You have become a fine murderer… I wish you blessings and a great many cups of hot blood.”
Victor starred at his mentor and swallowed. He pretended to hate Bane but truly Victor thought of him as a father and a brother and felt a cold prick of sorrow as he stared at his only friend, already wearing his traveling clothes and ready to leave.
“Every time I drink,” Victor said softly, “I will drink to your memory.”
“I’m touched, Victor. I am going to a new land known as America, apparently it is quite the country, if you ever find yourself yearning for my company drop by and I will do my best to accommodate you,” Bane said, sounding like he meant every word.
Then he swept into a bow and smiled at his makeshift son and straightened, smiling slightly as a few curls of pitch hair fell into his piercing yellow eyes, then he was gone, walking down the hall with long ground eating strides.
Victor watched him go until he turned a corner and he could see his Mentor no more then he turned and unlocked the door, hearing the heavy click as the bolt slid out of place.
He opened the door and felt his mouth water at the sight of the dark haired beauty curled up in the corner with a tear streaked face and quivering lips, when he came in she stumbled to her feet but could not get very far since the great iron bracelets around her wrists had chains attached to the floor beneath her.
Victor watched her for a long time and then walked forward slowly, his black cloak seeming to obscure his figure even as he drew closer to her.
“What is your name, child?” Victor asked kindly. The girl looked at him hopefully and swallowed a few times. Victor sniffed the air delicately and thought she was thirteen, perhaps a few years older.
“Amara, my lord, what do you plan to do to me?” Amara asked in a weak voice. Victor smiled and took a few steps forward, his shoes suddenly silent despite the stone.
“Do you fear me, Amara?” he asked, tasting her name and then starting to circle her slowly, weaving his seduction around her.
“Yes,” she told him softly, pushing her black hair out of her face. Victor caught her wrist and moved close behind her, placing his other hand on her shoulder lightly.
“You shouldn’t,” he breathed, his breath tickling her neck and making her tremble. He felt her relax against him and he grinned. Bane was right, human girls were desperate for affection.
“You kidnapped me,” she panted, resting her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. He looked at her quickly and smothered a smug smile.
“Yes I did,” he traced her color bone with one long nail as the other hand stroked the curve of her ear. Slowly he lowered his mouth to the soft skin of her throat and kissed the skin above the pulse slightly, relishing in how her heart sped under his hands.
She moaned when sank his fangs into her throat and the hot blood pumped into his mouth with each heart beat, he drank greedily, his hands tightening on her arms as he did even though she was not putting up any type of struggle.
When he blood became sluggish he released her and she crumpled to the floor moaning and clutching the wound on her neck. Victor smiled at her and licked his lips.
“Amara… The name will suit your new life, I think,” Victor said, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping away the blood on her neck.
“N-new life?” Amara croaked. Victor looked at her bright blue eyes and slimed a knife edged smile.
“My venom is killing off all your life force as we speak, soon you will be as beautiful as me… but female, of course,” Victor replied.
“No!” she screamed, shoving away from him. “What have you done to me!”
“Turned you into a vampire, little one, you are now my daughter,” Victor said with a grin. “Don’t worry the emptiness you’re starting to feel is god leaving you. You are, after all, a child of the devil.”
He walked out of the room with a little spring in his step as she began screaming imaginative profanities at him he laughed as she began to sob. He had been like that once and now look at him… she would appreciate it in time.

Three of Swords: Creative Journal Entry 4

Creative Journal Entry #4
Tarot Deck- Gothic Tarot of Vampires
Tarot Card- Three of Swords

Dracul stared up at the council, his pale face set in a mask of stony indifference, his long black hair ties back away from his face with a deep crimson ribbon. He had dressed for the occasion and he could see all of the council, nine in all, were studying him a little nervously.
They had every right to be nervous, he was, after all, one of the more powerful vampires among them. In fact he thought he was older than all of them and could have killed them all with one blast… however, he knew he had broken the law and he had done it to set an example for all the other vampires who thought of breaking the vampire laws.
“Prince Dracul Noxum,” first chairman said slowly, “you are aware you broke one of the three sacred vampire laws, passed down from your grandfather to the fathers of this great council?”
“Yes,” Dracul said calmly, “I understand completely.”
“And you are aware the punishment for this crime?”
“One hour in a dappled light room,” Dracul replied with a touch of a smile.
“May we ask why you did it?” the first chairman asked. Dracul said nothing and the chairman nodded. “Take him away.”
Two guards walked forward and stood a step behind him, their silver swords glittering in the light. Dracul noted with approval that they looked sharp enough to cut through bone with one blow.
Dracul bowed to the council, straightened and walked out of the dimly lit room and down the hall. He sensed that the sun was high in the sky and would soon be starting its decent through the sky, if he wanted to show anything for this he would have to hurry.
“We are awed by what you are doing, your majesty,” on of the guards said softly, Dracul looked at him and smiled slightly.
“Thank you, I’m glad you see what I’m doing,” Dracul replied.
“I think it is very wise of you, prince, and brave,” the other, younger guard said in an awed voice. Dracul felt oddly touched and smiled as the three stopped in front of a large silver door.
“Thank you gentlemen,” Dracul said, opening the door and stepping into the room. “The laws should not be broken, and it is time to prove that to all the fools that think they are above the vampire monarchy.”
He closed the door and heard a lock slide into place then turned and waited, curtains were drawn and sunlight flooded into the room in beams of dust. Dracul clenched his teeth and forced himself to stand there, as the sun ate away at his pale flesh.
“The three sacred laws of the vampires,” Dracul said through clenched teeth as blood-tears ran down his face in streams. “One; a vampire who is crowned king will not take advantage of his power and use it to claim the world. If a vampire wishes to claim the world he must do it as a vampire, not a king.”
His skin rippled as a cloud passed over the sun, making it dim for one blissful moment then skitter away, making the sun seem hotter than before. Dracul opened his mouth in a silent scream then clenched his teeth again, fighting back the pain.
“Two; A vampire shall not take a human as a lover. If the vampire finds the human attractive he or she will turn him or her into a vampire and then they may become lovers,” Dracul hissed.
Behind him he heard the guards muttering the same thing as if in prayer, he smiled through his pain. The two guards were true vampires. Vampires that belonged on the council, he would have to make a recommendation.
“Three; a vampire shall not tell a human he or she is a vampire and let them live. This is the law I broke. I understand this and I understand my punishment,” Dracul told the empty room. He felt his skin actually bubbling like out wax and turned with another silent scream and pressed his face against the door clawing at the door scared with vampire claws.
When he felt he had control over his pain again he turned back to the sunlight, looked directly into its golden light and took a ragged breath that tasted of the copper of his own blood.
“One…” he started again.

The Knight of Wands: Creative Journal Entry 3

Creative Journal Entry #3
Tarot Deck- Gothic Tarot of Vampires
Tarot Card- Knight of Wands

Sarah walked hand in hand with Peter, her boyfriend. They had just gone to see a movie and now they were going back home to enjoy one another’s company. Sarah could not remember the last time she had been this content. Perhaps she had never had this feeling.
“What was that?” Peter asked, stopping in front of a yawning mouth of an alley way. Sarah narrowed her eyes, looking into the darkness and lifting one shoulder in a half shrug.
“Probably some homeless man moving in his box,” she said and walked forward, tugging him along like a slow puppy. After a moment he followed, her, but his hand tightened around hers and he walked a little faster.
Sarah was once again slipping back into the warmth of the moment, and now she could see her apartment building, looming against the dark, bathed in the soft orange light of the streetlamps when she heard soft footsteps behind her.
Strangely they sounded like the walker wanted the couple to hear. They were very cold, a dull click and then a soft slap as the person walked. Sarah dismissed it as post-scary movie jitters, after all she had just seen A Nightmare On Elm Street and she had been thinking about that dreaded knife fingered man… not unusual.
“Freddie Krueger,” a voice said behind them. They both turned as one, breaking contact as they spun. A man stood in the center of a pool of yellow streetlight, a pleasant smile on his face as his deep golden hair fluttered in the wind.
He certainly looked like some homeless man. His pants were old faded jeans and he wore a stained grey shirt… but the jacket over that was either stolen or he was just a kid wearing the new ‘in fashion’ clothes.
His jacket was a long black leather trench coat, severely cut to match his shoulders and arms exactly.
“What?” Peter asked warily.
“Your girlfriend was thinking of Freddie Kruger,” the man said, walking forward with a gliding gait, he smiled at Sarah and nodded his head. “I’ve always been a Dracula man myself.”
“Can we help you sir?” Peter asked coolly. Sarah looked at the man curiously. He was now only an arm span away from Peter and studying him as one would study a piece of meat in the super market.
“Oh, no doubt,” the stranger said with a charming smile, “but, as I am somewhat old fashion please allow me to tell you who I am.”
Here he paused and glanced around as if about to tell them a secret. Strangely, Sarah felt herself leaning forward and she saw Peter doing the same. The man turned back to Peter and moved forward another step and whispered in his ear.
Peter’s face grew pale and slack and he was about to back up when the stranger plunged his long teeth into his neck.
Sarah screamed and turned and tried to run up the stairs but something tripped her and she fell and then she felt as if someone was holding her down as she had to watch the hot, red blood of Peter swirl into the strangers mouth.
After thirty seconds the vampire dropped the body and blood rushed out onto the street, then the stranger turned to Sarah and smiled, his teeth and lips bloodstained.
“You, my pretty darling, will be an excellent dessert, I think,” the stranger whispered.
“Stop right there,” a cold voice commanded from behind the stranger who turned, took one look at the man who has spoken and roared.
Two other men were on his left and all three of them had guns pointed at the vampire.
“You slayers are becoming very bothersome,” the vampire said, sounding irked. Then sprang -he did not jump but he seemed that he was attached to a coil that had been wound tight- fifty feet up in the air and land on the rooftop of the building.
Sarah curled up into a ball and started crying.

The Tower: Creative Journal Entry 2

Creative Journal Entry #2
Tarot Deck- Gothic Tarot of Vampires
Tarot Card- The Tower

Alex took a deep drag on his cigarette and looked down into the grave his men had just dig up. His two brothers were down there, tying ropes around the old coffin so it could be hauled up for the Employer.
He snorted and flicked the cigarette towards the grass where Alex watched it smoldered under the dew wet leaves for a few moments before he turned away and looked down the steep, slick walls of the grave.
“Watch out for vampires, alright?” Alex called down to his brothers and laughed at his own joke.
“I wouldn’t be laughing at something like that, if I was you,” his older brother, Henry said dryly, climbing up one slick wall by a rope and the n helping the youngest sibling.
“I’ll laugh at anything I damn well please,” Alex said, lighting another cigarette. “Keep in mind, big brother, dad put me in charge of this little escapade, not you.”
Henry just looked at him the ,lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug, but his pale blue eyes seemed to mock Alex gently, and there was sympathy in the older mans face, which went unnoticed by Alex.
“Let’s get this thing done then,” the youngest brother, Bill, said, wiping his hands nervously on his jeans, “I’m getting the jitters just by being out here.”
“Hey, don’t worry about nothing, Billy,” Alex said with a cruel grin, Bill scowled at his older brother. “Keep in mind that everyone in a graveyard is dead… except for us that is.”
And how long with that last, do you think? Something asked. Alex blinked and rubbed his temple, suddenly not so cocky as before.
“Let’s get this over with,” Alex said absently and waved at the man in the crane who gave him the thumbs up and started lifting the long toe-pincher out of the ground. Alex watched as the great wooden box was lifted out of its grave, sand and earth running down its face.
“What’s that?” Bill demanded, pointing at the coffin.
In the middle of the coffin there was a small plate of what looked like ivory, inset with gold in the shape of a tower. A cold fist suddenly pressed against the base of Alex’s spine as he stared at the tower, glittering in the moonlight. He swallowed and something clicked dryly in the back of his throat.
“Looks like a coat of arms,” Henry said, sounding calm and undisturbed, unlike the rest of the team, who were holding their shovels as if they intended to use them as weapons.
“Come on,” Alex muttered, mainly to himself, “we’re almost done with this.”
“Grab the ropes and pull it on to land,” Henry shouted, a few men didn’t move but most of them, their trance broken, surged forward and grabbed the ropes that held the coffin and dragged it onto to terra firma.
“Load it into the truck,” Alex said, not to be outdone by his brother. He went to help, hefting the wood onto his shoulders and leading the way towards the old, dusty ford that was backed up next to the crane.
Then he stopped, the blood draining out of his head so fast Alex was afraid he was about to faint. He tried to convince himself that he had heard it in his head but then it came again, and it was obvious the men who were helping carry the coffin heard it as well.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
They came slowly three or four seconds between each little tap, which sounded like a long fingernail against wood. Alex began to shake uncontrollably.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A little quicker this time, as if whoever… whatever was in the coffin was getting impatient.
Let me out of here, Alexander, I tire of this musky darkness and I am hungry.
Alex whimpered softly but found himself unable to move, it was as if his legs had turned to lead and grown roots at the same time, effectively keeping him right where he was while the thing inside the coffin spoke to him
Tap-tap-tap.
Very quickly this time, and louder, as if knuckles were pounding on the wood right beside Alex’s head.
“Put. The. Box. Down,” Henry said. Alex was only too happy to follow the orders of his older, obviously wiser brother and slowly he lowered the coffin, along with the eight other men holding the toe pincher.
“There was something knocking in there, Henry,” Alex muttered. Henry, who was staring fixedly at the box nodded and swallowed.
“Yes, I know,” Henry said stiffly. “He wasn’t supposed to be awake.”
“He? Awake? It’s supposed to be dead!” Alex screamed, his eyes bulging.
“No, no,” Henry said absently, “Vampires hibernate sometimes, it helps pass the time. But father said he would be asleep.”
“Dad knew about this?” Alex shrieked.
“This doesn’t make any sense…” Henry said, rubbing a rough hand over his lips and frowning. “Vampires can’t wake up with out fresh blood.”
There was a dull thud behind them as Bill passed out and fell onto the earth.
Alex simply gaped at his older brother who had apparently lost his mind. There were no such things as vampires and they didn’t drink blood because they were not real. They were fairy tails as fictional as dragons and unicorns and—
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
And something was drumming on the inside of that coffin, bored of the musky darkness, ready to feed, ready to fly and be alive again…
“Alive is a figurative thing!” Alex shrieked and then laughed, shrill and loon like.
“Hush, Alex,” Henry commanded, walking up to the coffin. Alex was struck with a sharp pain in his stomach and he shrieked again.
“Don’t go near it, Henry! Don’t touch it!” Alex screamed. Henry turned and scowled at his younger brother as the coffin shattered and a black shadow flew out of it, like some terrible butterfly from a cocoon spun from nightmares and fears.
The shadow spun in the sky, reveling in the cold night air, laughing, similar to how Alex had laughed just a moment before, shrill and loon like and not sane at all. Then the moonlight touched it and Alex, who was on the verge of unconsciousness collapsed to his knees, staring up at the thing that was hovering in the sky.
Shredded black cloth snapped around the being, each strand looked slick and wet, as if it had been painted with fresh blood before the dread butterfly had emerged from its cocoon.
Then there was the thing itself. His face was long and narrow with paper white skin stretched taut over fine facial bones, a long, thin nose and high cheek bones made the creature seem beautiful… in a way a spider was beautiful.
Long white hair billowed around it in the wind. As thick and shiny as the moonlight and glimmering with healthy luster it was longer than the butterfly was tall, flying around him in locks that had no curl to them.
But what was really fascinating about this awful butterfly which reeked of death and decomposition was his eyes, which were a bright, vivid purple, surrounded by black, it reminded Alex of an eclipse.
“It feels magnificent to be out of that box, I have to thank you all,” the butterfly said, alighting on the top of a cross and looking at the team of men, staring up at him with utter terror on their faces, Alex gazed at the man with a silent screaming stretching his mouth into a wide ‘O’
“What do you think you’re doing vampire?” Henry asked coolly, Alex looked at him, wondering if his bog brother had taken leave of his senses. This gothic butterfly could rip him to shreds with no qualms!
“Well I thought that would be obvious,” the vampire replied, looking at Henry and smiling delightedly. “The employer that sent you here to fetch me was somewhat of an idiot, for he thought he could control me with a cross and bit of holy water.”
The vampire laughed and placed one hand on the top of the cross, caressing the rough stone absently.
“As you can see, crosses don’t work on me,” the gothic butterfly that calmly. “And you were kind enough to free me of the earth and wood that held me, I thank you for that but now I must feed.”
“Run, Alex, run!” Henry screamed. Alex grabbed Bill and tossed one flaccid arm over his shoulder and began dragging his little brother through the empty graveyard, behind him, he heard a slaughter taking place… and Henry was praying of all things. PRAYING!
Then his voice got cut off and was replaced by a long, terrible scream which was silenced by what sounded like a snarl and teeth ripping through flesh.
There was an empty grave. Hoping Bill would forgive him, Alex rolled his little brother into the ditch and kept running. Behind him there was a terrible silence that made him turn and stare at the carnage.
Bodies, some ripped in half others that looked like they were sleeping, were strewn within a ten foot radius of the gothic butterfly who was drinking greedily from on of their throats, his eyes fixed on Alex.
“Oh, God,” Alex breathed and then turned and ran, his feet thudding dully on the hard packed earth as he fled from the creature. Behind him he heard a scream of wind and new that the little butterfly had taken off and was flying after him, he whimpered and hurried his steps and was rewarded by nearly running into a well fed looking gothic butterfly.
“Hello, Alex,” the butterfly said softly. Alex stopped so fast that he ended up falling hard on the packed earth and staring up at the vampire’s vivid purple eyes and smiling face.
“Please don’t kill me,” he whimpered. The vampires tossed his head back and laughed richly.
“Kill you? My dear brainless boy! Killing you is the last thing on my mind,” the butterfly said warmly. “I was hoping you would be willing to be my pet until I get bored of you.”
“Anything!” Alex said, relief making him giddy. “As long as you don’t kill me.”
“I was hoping you would say something like that,” the vampire said with a grin. “Now, I assume you can drive. But do you have a vehicle?”
“Yeah, I have an old Subaru,” Alex said. He saw his vampires nose wrinkle slightly.
“First, you will address me as Master Wong and second you will speak properly from now on. So no more ‘yeah’s, clear?” the Butterfly asked.
“Yeah… er.. Yes, Master Wong,” Alex said, feeling dazed. He was getting grammar lessons from a vampire.
“See what a quick learner you are!” Wong praised, then he frowned. “Your car will do for now but once I get settled I’ll have you go fetch another.”
“Yes, Master Wong,” Alex said, standing and dusting himself off. Wong nodded and turned, walking through the graveyard with Alex walking a few steps behind, Bill was completely forgotten.

Six of Swords: Creative Writing Journal 1

Okay, dokey people! This is my first creativejornal entry. The way I did this was I picked a random card out of my Tarot deck and wrote a story about it as it came.

Creative Journal Entry #1
Tarot Deck- Gothic Tarot of Vampires
Tarot Card- Six of Swords

Shaiya emerged from the dark alley way, trying hard not to breathe in the mingled smells of urine, old, beer, trash and dry vomit.
As she stepped out from between the two buildings which were looming on either side of her like disapproving sentinels the soft blue light of the moon washed over her pallid face, making her deep red hair shine dully.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” a little voice said. Shaiya snapped to attention, her eyes narrowing to narrow slits. She hissed softly and pulled her lips back from her teeth, putting her impressive canines on display.
“And who is we?” Shaiya asked warily, her pale blue eyes narrowed as she studied the empty lot; weeds and old furniture surrounded by dusty stones and glittery bottles, long since dry of beer. But she saw nothing that would imply a speaking thing.
“That does not matter,” the little voice replied. “You are troubled and seek answers, do you not?”
“Shaiya blinked and bit her lip, looking around the yard again; sure that something was hiding, trying to play a trick on her. Slowly the woman who looked seventeen but was really hundreds of years old stepped into the empty enclosure, her old brown boots crunching over the gravel and broken glass that was scattered there as if feed for some monster birds.
“I… I was sent b-by Priest Wong to find out about a prophecy,” Shaiya said, ashamed at how her voice trembled and wavered in the cool, empty night.
“Ah…” the little voice breathed. There was a whisper of jasmine scented breeze and the night was not empty anymore; a little girl with pale blond hair and clad in a thin white gown stood in front of Shaiya, the hem of her dress fluttering around her legs in a breeze that only touched her.
Shaiya saw with a sudden sick horror that the little girl was standing on a bed of bright orange close, her bare feet hissing softly and giving off the potent smell of burned flesh, though she seemed to not notice.
“Oh, my God,” Shaiya moaned, closing her eyes, but still smelling that terrible smell.
“The prophecy is old and old again. To know it means knowledge eternal, it has driven others insane, pretty Shaiya,” the little girl murmured, her hair flying in her face, obscuring her mouth.
Shaiya’s hands balled into tight, hard fists at her thighs, her long nails cutting into the tender, pale flesh of her palms. She took a deep breath, plucked up her courage, already shredded from the threats Master Wong had given her if she failed and looked at the girl square in her milky white eyes.
“Tell me,” Shaiya whispered.
The little girl laughed softly, and to Shaiya it was like listening to silver wind chimes during a rain storm in the middle of summer, sweet but somehow ominous and foreboding.
“I do not know the prophecy,” the girl said, laughter still in her small voice. “It is there.”
The little girl pointed down the bed of coals without taking her eyes off Shaiya. Her finger was steady as it gestured to the slender pillar with a large book perched a top it, emitting an eerie crimson glow and even eerier whisperings.
“What is it?” Shaiya asked, drawn by the beautiful light and yet repelled by the whispers that, for some reason reminded her of an ancient story that she had never heard of for a very good reason.
“It is the Book of Prophecy. All things that will ever happen in all the worlds is in there, written neatly on paper made of dreams and cobwebs and fears,” the girl said with an absent little smile and an extended hand, which was almost transparent. “If you believe you can do it I will take you.”
Shaiya took a hesitant step forward and felt the heat from the orange coals rising up from their bed and stroke her with what felt like a physical blow. She shuddered slightly.
“Can’t I go around the coals?” Shaiya asked hopefully, looking back at the girl and being rewarded by seeing her face shift from human to snake and back again. Shaiya was suddenly very afraid.
The little girl, she was a girl and not a snake, Shaiya reminded herself, giggled softly, her hand still extended to Shaiya and said, “You know these things do not work in such a fashion.”
Shaiya swallowed and took another step forward, slipping her hand into the girls and suppressing a shudder as the little ones skin seemed to squirm beneath Shaiya’s fingers.
The little girl turned and walked forward on the bed of coals calmly, leading Shaiya along, each step the little child made hissed and crackled and Shaiya could see bits of charred flesh left behind, clinging to the coals.
Shaiya stopped at the edge of the coals, her entire body trembling as she stared down at a piece of flesh that was squirming over the ashy and coals back towards the little girl so it could join with her again. The girl looked back with a cocked head and inquisitive eyes but she said nothing, waiting for Shaiya.
“I…” Shaiya croaked, swallowed and opened her mouth to try again. She imagined her skin squirming over the coals and stifled a shriek and jerked her hand away then fled back the way she had come, away from the terrible girl with the snake face and the bed of coals.
As Shaiya ran another wind, scented with jasmines, picked up and ruffled her sleek hair, blowing it into her eyes, she looked over her shoulder without stopping and saw the yard was empty again, only sparkling with the broken glass and the dusty dry bottles of beer.
Master Wong would not be pleased with her failure, Shaiya knew.