Adalwolfa Bohmermann - Chapter 1

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Adalwolfa Bohmermann

by Prince-Anpiel

Libraries: Action, Angst, Fantasy, Original Fiction, Series

Published on / 1 Chapter(s) / 0 Review(s)

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This is not the first chapter of anything, it is just something I wanted to show off. It will be a good while before this gets illustrated.

As the world around Adem grew more magical, things were growing darker in the old world. Adawolfa Bohmermann was a strong, opinionated young woman in a world that once told her that she could have the whole world if only she was strong enough to assert her dominance over it. With the new year, came a new attitude: one of fear.
 
She was seventeen years old, bone thin, platinum blonde, baby blue eyes, pale faced, and had a downright nasty case of the old resting bitch face. Her outfit was typical of German teen of her social and economic status. Thin, cadet blue, rectangular shaped framed glasses that she ordered for a few hundred euros online from Gucci; a pair of tight fitting, dark green, short shorts; thin, black and tan sneakers; a tight, black tank top that would have shown off her chest had it been anything worth mentioning, but also did nothing to cover up her midriff; and that revealed a belly button piercing. It was pretty large for where it was too. It was a golden cross with a base much thicker than the top or sides. 
 
She was in her bedroom, sitting in her canopy bed all done up in lavender. She was watching the flat screen HD smart TV secured to her wall. It was January second of the year two thousand sixteen. She was tuned into the news, trying desperately to figure out what had gone so wrong in Cologne two nights ago. It was not very close to herself, but she was not comfortable with anything so close to home. If Germany was under attack, then she would not be caught unaware. 
 
There were a lot of conflicting reports on who had done what. Muggings had definitely happened. She picked up that sexual assaults had happened but she also caught on that some people had tried to down play that this had happened, for some reason or another. She had heard \"Afghan migrants,\" \"Syrian refugees,\" \"Asian youths,\" and some women on Facebook were insisting knowingly that it was probably the work of white, cis-gendered, heterosexual men. This made her feel the need to close her laptop. She too, had a very knowing opinion on the identity of the attackers. She knew very well that they were men whose blood she would be spilling all over the ground. She hoped that she would get a chance to lap it up off of the ground.
 
She left the comfort of her lavish and old fashioned looking bedroom through a heavy door and entered into an extensive hall way. All of it was in gray stone, very drab looking, but it was also very well kept with no sign of dust or spider webs. From there she descended down a spiral staircase that was done in the exact same style as the hall way. Along the way there were small shelves with lit candles along the way. It led to a small, dark room. 
 
Adalwolfa pulled out her iPhone and selected an application that had been designed for opening up garage doors. She pressed the button on the touch screen phone and the wall in front of her went up, filling the room with light. She walked forward into the light and entered into her personal library. She hit the button again and that wall went back down. It was a book shelf, like the other twenty four in the room. There was no immediately apparent way to get onto the third floor where she slept, or the fourth floor where her parents stayed, only secret passages like these; there was one for all three of them to use specially. Hers to her library, her father\'s to his office, and her mother\'s to the green house. 
 
She tapped the button once more and the book shelf returned to the floor, in no way discernible to the common eye, or even any human eye, from the regular ones. It was of course, not as large as many of the government maintained libraries, but she kept it in good condition as well as well stocked. There were two shelves of pop culture kinds of books like Harry Potter, but mostly it was classical European literature to sharpen her wit. The only other way out of the library was a set of double doors. It was locked and, key or not key, could only be locked or unlocked from the inside. Any outsider would just assume that she liked to be alone with the words of those who had passed on their ideas, and when she was out of her room she left it wide open for any visitor to examine. It just had to be locked when she was up there to make sure that nobody saw the bookcase move. 
 
She passed through the dining room, which had white marble floors, black marble chairs, and a table made out of bullet proof glass supported on the statues of several wolves in black marble. It was enough to seat thirty people in total. She went through another set of double doors leading through a sparkly white hall with gold trim into the living room. The living room had crimson carpet, a ceiling that must have been twenty or thirty feet high, a crystal chandelier, and two staircases with golden railing going up to several guest rooms. 
 
Also in this room, was a man waiting for her. He was very thin, a few inches over six feet tall, dark skinned, and wore formal dress, but it was not the formal dress of the modern day German. It was a form fitting suit complete with a bow tie, white silk gloves, and sharp coat tails. His tan skin and razor sharp cheek bones were very attention grabbing, and his eyes were beautiful. They were darker than the sky at night and he had the kinds of eye lashes that mascara had been invented to imitate, but those eyes looked dead inside, and they would sadly never be the first thing that a stranger would notice about him. On his right cheek he had been branded with a hot iron. It was the cross with the thick base. He had a pencil thin mustache that was split in the middle and pointed on the ends, a goatee, and his hair was very beautiful. It was straight, but coarse, and very black. It was pulled back into a pony tail that came to just under a foot in length.  Though he was six foot two and she was five foot one, he bowed loyally in her presence. 
 
He escorted her through the yard, which was a significant walk. They walked along a grey stone path that had lush greenery on either side, including some very rare bushes, flowers, and trees that her mother had imported from various places around the world. Also sniffing around the grass were German Shepherds. They all looked entirely identical, not just similar. They had the same size, same coat, and the same brands. A cross on the right cheek and a mark on the left shoulder. 
 
When they got to the car, a Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita, he opened up the door and bent forward the seat for her to crawl into the back. The car was hers, but she was not old enough yet to drive it. When she was comfortable in the back, the butler got in the car and sped off. The gate was opened for them as they moved away from the beautiful castle. The ride was so smooth and the windows were so well tinted that she drifted of to sleep on the way there, lying down across the back seats. 
 
When they arrived he gently shook her awake, and swiftly received his punishment for the kind act. She kicked out as hard as she could, planting a shoe center in his face. She busted up his nose and knocked him flat on his ass in one swift motion of the leg. He got back up without reacting to what had been done to him, not even with a facial expression. Before taking care of all of the blood he bowed down to her, and she kept her foot held out. He pulled a cloth napkin that was folded in his breast pocket and wiped off the bottom of her shoe. He then used the other side of the napkin to wipe the blood from his lower face. He did not need to wipe it again, because the nose had already healed. He slipped the dirty napkin into his back pocket, then pulled out another cloth napkin, and folded it into his front pocket. 
 
On the orders of Adalwolfa, the butler had gathered up addresses of girls who had been victimized in Cologne. Some of these girls had not even reported what had happened to the police yet. By paying for footage from security cameras on stores that the police had not thought to ask for, sniffing around the less mainstream social media platforms, seeking out the testimonies of people who would never want to speak to the media or the authorities. It was pretty easy with the resources that her family could spare without noticing that she had taken it.
 
She cornered and questioned several of those young women that night, forcing descriptions of their attackers out of the victims. There was a reoccurring theme during all of these interrogations, happening in eleven out of the thirteen interrogations, that caused the deepest rage to bubble up inside of her. She would be asking them questions and then she would look at the huge, Hispanic butler as if he was the muscle there. Each time this happened she grabbed them by the hair, shoulders, or clothing and slammed them against the hardest thing she could slam them against without having to move. It was mostly walls, but a couple trees and one sidewalk. But these interrogations were mostly just to double check what she was already learning no matter what they told her. They had just been sexually assaulted and were very uncomfortable with being touched still, but she was snarling and sniffing them all over like a police dog. The butler stayed calm, even faced, and with his arms folded behind his back the entire time.  
 
She had the visual descriptions down from all of these girls, she had their scents, and she was ready to go. None of the girls were related but there were four commons people smells between them, and those smells were of people who were related to one another. The moment she got the needed information she was gone, no thank you for the information or request not to tell the police, because these girls were useless and so were the police, just vanishing into the night as quickly as she had jumped them. 
 
All four of the scents she was tracking convened in one area. She found four young guys, probably a year or so older than she was by her estimation. It was a shitty alley in a shitty side of town. They were cackling, looking her up and down, and starting to circle her. They did not show any fear of the butler. It was good that this was happening like this. She did not have to worry about whether or not it was really them. She closed her eyes and held out her hands. The butler who was standing behind her reached both hands into his jacket, pulling out two pistols and dropping them in her hands. Without opening her eyes she pointed the guns back and fired with her pinkie fingers, shooting both of the assailants coming at them from behind right between the eyes. She opened her fierce, blue eyes and shot forward, hitting both of the two in front in their throats, the exit wounds taking their brain stems. They had the possessions of the attacked women, clothing, jewelry, and money, but that was none of her concern. Those could be used by the police to determine that these were the bad men. She had much nicer things than those girls could have dreamed of.
 
The pistols had silencers on them, but she did not want to take any chances on the police showing up and looking for a gun. She knew she could smell it on a person\'s hands when they had fired a gun, but she was not sure on whether or not the rest of the world was able to do that. She handed the two guns to her butler who slid them back into his jacket, and then quickly discredited any witness to what they had done. Suit and all, he transformed into a large, brown dog with crosses burnt into his right cheek and his left shoulder. She walked him back to the car, ducking dirty looks from people who thought that she was an animal abuser, which was hilarious because nobody gave a shit when she was a people abuser. 
 
When they got back to the vehicle she invited him to jump into the car, where he reverted back to his human form under the cover of darkened windows and whisked his owner back off to the castle. She stretched out and yawned, trying to get relaxed in the back seat. \"Vier?\" she said.
 
\"Yes, Frauchen?\" he answered cool and collected with a surprising accent. Though he was raised in Germany, he spoke no German, and spoke with a Latin American accent that made very little sense in the national context. 
 
She smiled for the first time in months and said, the happiness starting to bubble up in her voice, \"Do you think that we could do this again tomorrow? It was so much fun!\"

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