“Here?” Enid stopped in front of a dodgy looking antique store that seemed comically out of place amongst the bars and nightclubs it shared Reveller’s Row with. “Really?”

“Looks can be deceiving.” Louise sat up from the back seat she’d been using as a bed. “The antiques here are old enough to bypass prohibited weapon laws.”

Tarnished silver letters above the store’s doors read ‘Vinnie’s Vintages’. A dying orange light glimmered somewhere inside beyond the cracked windows showcasing an innocuous variety of random knick knacks and old clothes that went out of style centuries ago. The store itself appeared cobbled together from slanting planks of grey-painted wood that seemed to buckle under the weight of the brick flat right above it.

The place was probably older than most of its antiques. Valen half was expecting it to fall in on itself if he opened the door too quickly.

“Are you sure this place is safe?” he asked.

“Valen, it’s in the Nocturnal District.” Louise opened the door and hopped out of the car. “Nowhere here is safe and if it is it probably belongs to the mob.”

She walked into the shop, carrying herself with the same exaggerated swagger to compensate for her lack of height. Valen and Enid followed close behind her, careful to not bump into any of the dusty cabinets and shelves that were older than most of the antiques they showcased.

Enid wrapped her arm around Valen’s and squinted her eyes, unable to see much in the sparse illumination provided by only the fading orange glow of a single electric chandelier hung in the middle of the store.

Louise strolled up to the empty oak wood counter where an out of place modern sat and slammed an open palm onto the flat top. The loud thump shook the store, causing the old chandelier’s dangling crystals to jingle against each other and forcing the sleeping halfling behind the counter to shoot up to their feet, the top of their frizzy brown hair barely visible behind the three-foot counter.

“I’m awake!” he cried, still sounding half asleep.

Valen felt surprised when he recognised the voice.

“Hold on a minute.” He walked up to the counter with Enid and peered down the over side. “Johan? Is that you?”

“Wait a sec.” The halfling in a tiny tweed suit pulled himself up onto a wobbly wooden stool behind the counter, revealing his round freckled face and emerald green eyes that widened at the sight of Valen. “Ho-ly shit. Valen? Valen Vasilis? Is that you?”

A smile found its way to Valen’s face. Not the close-mouthed kind he gave to police officers and interviewers hoping they wouldn't ruin his life, but a wide happy grin that showed off his teeth knowing that the person who saw them wouldn’t care that they were fangs.

“Johan!” His red eyes lit up at the sight of the only friend he’d known longer than Louise. “Oh gods, it is you! How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been great!” said Johan. “What are you doing back in the Nocturnal District?”

“I’m just stopping by for some errands. Do you work here now?”

Johan puffed out his chest with a proud grin on his face. “Nah mate, I own this place now! The late owner left it to me in his will while I was working part-time.”

“That’s great! It’s good to see you doing well. Sorry for not trying harder to keep in touch.”

Johan waved a hand in dismissal. “Ah, don’t worry about it. I get it. Must be hard work studying to become a doctor.”

Valne felt his lifted spirits pulled all the way back down to earth along with his shoulders, though he tried his best to not let it show on his face.

“About that. Um, I didn’t…get into medical school.”

“Oh.” Johan looked down at the counter, with guilt in his eyes. “Sorry for bringing that up then.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” said Valen. “I’m still doing pretty well, all things considered. I’m studying clinical psychology for my masters now.”

“That sounds interesting,” Johan lied. He cocked an eyebrow upon finally noticing Enid beside him, squinting her icy blue eyes to see in the darkness. “Wait, is that your girlfriend?”

“Name’s Enid,” said Enid without any further elaboration.

Louise cleared her throat. “You do realise I’m here too, right?”

“Huh?” Johan pretended to only now notice Louise’s presence. “Oh. Sorry about that Louise. It’s terribly easy to miss you when you’re so small.”

Louise’s left eye twitched and she pinched Johan in the cheek.

“Cheeky little shit.” A large vein bulged in the corner of Louise’s forehead. “You’re almost half my bloody size!”

“Oy, oy, oy!” The halfling struggled to pry Louise’s furry fingers from his face. “I’ll have you know, that’s racially insensitive!”

“I think that’s enough, Lou,” said Valen.

“Hmph.” Louise let go of Johan’s cheek.

Johan rubbed his face, annoyed but none worse for wear. Luckily for him, Louise had made sure to keep her claws tucked away while pinching him.

“Learn to take a joke, fur ball,” he grumbled. 

“Now that’s racially insensitive.” Louise rested her elbow on the counter and leaned forward so that she looked like she towered over Johan. “We’d like to see your private collection.”

Johan’s face lit up. He turned to Valen with an excited smile.

“Are you getting back into martial arts?”

“Yeah,” Valen lied. “The training sticks aren’t cutting it anymore so I’m looking for some actual blades.”

Enid looked on in silent curiosity. She knew Valen was a martial artist, and that he sometimes brought out some weird wooden sticks to beat a training dummy with when he was stressed. When she asked him about it he just brushed it off as just a hobby he took up while in the Nocturnal District. Still, she always wondered if there was more to it than that.

“Hang on, you’re gonna love this!” Johan climbed down from his stool and pushed it to the wall behind the counter where a painting of a white knight the size of a refrigerator was hung. Sliding his fingers down the painting frame, Johan pressed a hidden lock that caused the entire painting to swing open like a door. “You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve had a customer who actually knows how to use and appreciate these.”

Behind the hidden cabinet was an entire assortment of weapons straight out of mediaeval armoury. Everything from familiar longswords and warhammers to oriental katanas and katars were crammed into the case behind the painting and hung on hooks behind the painting itself.

Valen’s eyes widened at the sight. He’d never consider himself a violent person and while he only really learned how to fight so that he could defend himself, the martial artist inside him couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy at the sight of so many weapons in the same place.

“These are all antiques?” Valen asked, surprised at how clean and pristine everything in the cabinet was. “They look brand new.”

“All over a century old and completely legal to sell!” Johan’s face brimmed with pride. “Now! What was that martial art you practised? Anallis?”

Louise stifled a laugh at the word ‘anal.’ Enid fought back a small smile despite herself.

“Arnis,” Valen corrected. “It’s from the southeastern islands.”

“Right, of course.” Johan’s hand hovered over the deadly collection before picking out a sheathed sword and tossing it onto the counter. “Check that one out.”

Valen grimaced. “You know you really should be more gentle with these.”

“I know, I know,” said Johan. “But it’s either this or I keep pushing the bloody stool every time I show you something.”

“Fair enough.”

Valen picked up the sword by its wooden sheath and wrapped his hand around the ornate ivory handle. Both Louise and Enid took an instinctive step back as he unsheathed the sword, revealing a double-edged blade with a distinct wavy section right above the guard.

“This is a kalis.” Valen very slowly moved the sword around, using more or less the same motions he’d use for a single-stick practice drill. “The balance is excellent.”

“It was a pain in the arse to sharpen, let me tell ya.” A spark of curiosity entered Johan’s eyes. “If don’t mind me asking, what is it with southeasterners and their bloody wavy blades?”

"From what I’ve heard.” Valen picked up the kalis’ sheath with his free hand. “It was to make the blade easier to pull out of someone after slashing them. Apparently straight blades tend to get stuck in bone.”

“That’s rather dark,” said Enid.

“Yeah, no shit,” added Louise.

“Huh.” Johan scratched his head. “The more you know I guess. So, do you like it?”

“It’s a fine piece.” Valen sheathed the kalis and set it back down on the counter. “But I was looking for something less…sadistic looking.”

Johan nodded in understanding.

“It does look kind of like a bad guy weapon now that I think about it. Bloke like you need something more heroic.” He snapped his fingers. “Ah! I know! Arnis has a lot of dual wielding, right?”

“It does,” said Valen. “You start off with two sticks, advance to other weapons, and finally train in empty hand if you’ve proven yourself.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” asked Enid.

“In arnis you have to be trusted with weapons first before someone will teach you how to do the same damage empty handed.”

Louise shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie with indignance written across her face. “I never got past the dual sticks phase.”

“That’s because you bit one of the other pupils during spar, Louise,” said Valen. “They had every right to kick you out.”

“In my defence, the bitch had it coming.”

A rueful smile found its way onto Johan’s face.

“I’d have been right there with you had the dojo accepted halflings.” Johan picked out two identical swords from the cabinet and turned to face Valen. “Hey, catch!”

He tossed the two swords at Valen, who caught them both in mid-air by their wooden scabbards.

“Alright, let’s see...” Valen set one sword down on the counter and unsheathed the other one.

The grooves of the carefully carved wooden handle, clearly meant for one handed use, fit snugly with the contours of his slender fingers. Unlike the kalis, it was single-edged with a forward-curving blade that ended in a beak-like tip. It was shorter too, being somewhere between the size of a short sword and a long knife.

“You recognise these?” Johan asked.

“They’re ginuntings.” Valen looked down the thick spine of the blade to check for any bends. “Jungle bolos that also double as weapons.”

“These came in a pair.” Johan smirked. “Seemed fitting. Two swords for a guy with two girlfriends.”

“They’re not my girlfriends.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Johan sounded unconvinced. “So, what do you think?”

Valen considered it for a moment. He needed something to defend himself against the monstrosities that have been coming after him. So far he’d been able to scrape out with fisticuffs but his luck was sure to run out sooner or later. Having the ginuntings on him would give him much more of a fighting chance but…

“Do you have anything smaller?” Valen asked.

The ginuntings are nice, but he’d have a hard time trying to hide them on his person in public. With at least one cultist already in the police force, the last thing he wanted was to be caught for being armed in public.

Johan furrowed his brow at Valen.

“Smaller?” he asked. “Like, how small are we talking about?”

Valen chose his words carefully.

“My training room’s a bit cramped,” he lied. “Something with a blade shorter than my forearm should do just fine.”

“Uh-huh.” His eyes darted at Louise for a moment. 

He looked like he wanted to say something. Valen guessed that he must’ve sold weapons to Louise for reasons other than martial arts practise before and was worried that this would be one of those times. In the end he didn’t say anything and looked through his collection in silence.

“Try these,” he said plainly before tossing Valen a sheathed knife.

Valen caught it before they hit the counter and found it much lighter than either of the other blades. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t a single knife at all, but two identical ultra slim knives sharing a single scabbard.

He pulled out both knives with one hand easily wrapping around the two textured wooden handles. They were single-edged, with wide bellied blades grinded sharper than razors.

Valen examined the weapon. Compared to the other weapons he’d been shown, this one had the distinction of having a small D-shaped guard protecting the knuckles as well as a hook behind it that was presumably used for trapping enemy blades.

After scrutinising the blade, Valen came to a simple conclusion that he voiced aloud for his friends.

“I have no idea what this thing is.”

“Those are butterfly swords,” said Johan. “It’s a weapon from the far east designed for concealed carry in sleeves or boots.”

Valen studied the edge of the blade.

“One third of this blade isn’t sharpened.” He caressed the unsharpened section of the blade with his thumb. “Any particular reason why?”

“They’re often worn by warrior monks for self-defence,” Johan explained. “Because of their pacifism, if they could afford to not kill their opponents they’d use that blunt section to thwack them with instead.”

Valen moved both blades around in the same fluid drill he’d done a million times before with rattan sticks. They may have been designed for a different fighting art, but arnis was versatile enough that he wouldn't have much trouble adapting to them. If you’ve seen one knife then you’ve pretty much seen all of them anyway.

“These are perfect,” said Valen. “How much is it?”

“For you I’ll sell it for 250 dracos,” said Johan. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Actually.” Louise eyed the collection behind him. “How much for one of those short-handle bowen knives? Might as well get myself a new toy too now that I’m here.”

Johan picked out a large knife with a small ivory handle and tossed it to Louise, who caught it in one four-fingered hand. 

“I’ll give you that one for fifty,” said Johan.

“Hmm.” Louise unsheathed the knife and ran a single claw down the edge of the clip point blade. “I’ll take it.”

Louise put the knife back in its leather sheath and immediately clipped it to her belt at the small of her back, hiding it under the folds of her baggy yellow hoodie.

Johan looked at Enid. “What about you, miss?”

“I’m good.” Enid pulled out her wallet and flattened three hundred-draco bills onto the counter. “Here’s the cash.”

Johan pushed his stool back to the countertop and placed the cash in the register.

“Pleasure doing business with ya.” Johan looked between the three of them before settling his gaze on Valen. “Sorry, but as your friend I have to ask…are you really just buying those for practice?”

“To be honest, mate.” Valen took the butterfly swords and clipped them to his own belt at the small of his back the same way Louise did. “It’s probably for the best if you don’t know.”

“Is this a gang thing? Are you guys in danger?” He cast Louise a look that was half worried and half angry. “I thought you quit the gang life. Now you’re dragging the golden boy into it?”

“She did quit,” Valen said quickly before things could escalate. “The situation we’re in is my fault but I promise I’ll get us out of it.”

A moment of silence passed before Johan looked at Louise and Enid.

“Sorry ladies, but can I talk to Valen in private for a bit?” he asked. “It’s important.”

Louise and Enid looked at each other, then at Valen.

“I’ll be alright,” said Valen. “Why don’t you two go wait in the car for a bit?”

“As long as you’re fine with that,” said Enid.

“But holler if you need us, yeah?” added Louise.

Both women left the store and Valen watched them through the window until he was sure they were safe inside the car.

“Let’s cut to the chase.” Johan had both hands pressed against the counter as he leaned towards Valen. “Are those two forcing you into something? Drug running? Black mail? Sex slavery?”

Valen recoiled at the question, his face scrunched up in disgust.

“Wh-Gods no!” He took a moment to clear his throat and compose himself. “Look, Johan, I appreciate your concern but we’re capable of handling this by ourselves.”

That was a lie, of course, but he couldn’t just tell him the truth. A lot of weird shit has gone down in the Nocturnal District but even for a lifelong resident like Johan, the return of a god no one knew existed was stretching it in believability. Telling the truth was liable to get him and his friends sent to a mental hospital.

Johan studied his face. What he said next nearly made Valen’s heart jump into his throat.

“Does this have to do with the Primordial Church?” Johan asked, and the look on Valen’s face told him all he needed to know. “By the gods, Valen. What happened?”

“It’s…” Valen tried to think of something to say and when nothing came to mind, settled on a single word. “...complicated.”

“Anything involving them is bound to be.” Johan looked Valen in the eye. “Does Vivian know about all this?”

“No,” said Valen. “You know how she always wanted to be a priestess?”

“Yeah? Did she finally join a covenant?”

“She went on a pilgrimage to the fourteen grand temples last month. I haven’t been in contact with her since.” 

“Has she called you at all?”

“She insisted on sticking to the old ways and not carrying a phone.”

Johan sighed.

“Of course she did.” He looked Valen in the eye. “Look, you know you can trust me, right? Whatever the Primordial Church is doing to bother you, I’ll understand.”

Valen wanted to trust him. Johan was a fine man and a good friend, but he didn’t see the things he did. Things straight from the mind of a mad god that had to be seen to be believed by mortal eyes. And even if he did believe, Valen couldn’t bring himself to shoulder him with knowledge of the terrible truth. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment of quiet deliberation, “but I really can’t tell you.”

“Does this…” Johan looked hesitant for a moment. “...Does this have to do with Valerie?”

Valen felt a missing part of his soul ache. He’d done a good job hiding it this past fourteen years, but the truth about grief is that it never really goes away. It just becomes easier to ignore.

“...It started out that way, yes,” Valen admitted. “But it’s become much bigger than that.”

“Were you hoping to find her with them?” Johan asked. “With the Primordial Church?”

“Valerie once told me that she wished for a world where different races didn’t exist so everyone could get along.” Valen caressed the single fang-shaped earring dangling from his left ear, pondering the whereabouts of its counterpart. “The Primordial Church preached ignoring racial boundaries. I thought that if she were still alive, they might’ve taken her in. Wishful thinking, really.” 

Valen thought back to when his family was whole. Or, at least, as whole as it could be with an absent father. There was his mother, whose face he could no longer remember. His religious older sister Vivian, who took care of him after their mother’s death. There was him, the only boy in the family. And then, there was Valerie. 

His twin, and the missing half of him he’d never get back.

“So did you…?” Johan’s voice trailed off.

“She wasn’t there,” said Valen. “And honestly I think it’s better that way.”

“Valerie was a good girl,” said Johan. “It’s a shame what happened to her.”

“It is.”

Valen still remembered the night Valerie ran away, though the details had become muddled in his mind over the years. He remembered the flashing red and blue lights outside his bedroom window. The hushed conversations Vivian had with officers using words a nine year old couldn’t understand. The taste of vampiric blood upon his lips.

“Have you ever gotten around to telling Louise about her?” asked Johan.

“No,” said Valen. He’d met Louise when he was ten, a year after Valerie had disappeared. “She doesn’t need to share my grief. As far as she knows, Vivian is my only sister and I’d rather it stay that way.”

“Then my lips are sealed as well.” Johan eyed him carefully. “Out of curiosity, do you think you agree with her? About a world without race to seperate us?”

Valen gave him a sad smile.

“Johan, you of all people know that’s not possible. If people can’t discriminate based on race then they’ll just find some other excuse to hate people different from them.”

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right.” Johan slumped his shoulders. “Are you sure you can’t tell me what’s going on?”

“Positive.”

Johan nodded in acceptance, though his eyes told Valen he didn’t have to like it.

“Well, I’ll trust your judgement but just in case.” Johan pulled open a drawer behind the counter and took out a butterfly knife that he placed onto the counter. “Here’s another knife on the house from my actual private collection.”

“You don’t have to give it to me,” said Valen. “These butterfly swords are enough.”

“I know,” said Johan, “but I’d feel safer if you had a back-up weapon for…whatever it is you intend on doing.”

Valen gingerly picked up the knife and flicked it open. The small clip-point blade had a fine edge sharp enough to shave with and its handles were made of handsome redwood that shone with a soft lustre in the scant light of the store.

“Thank you for everything, Johan.” Valen slid the knife into the pocket of his red waistcoat. “You’ve always been far too kind to me.”

“I know, I know.” His exasperated expression softened for a moment, then grew uneasy. “Hey, before you leave, can I ask you something personal?”

Valen looked at him with concern. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing much,” he assured him. “It’s just that if you…disappeared after tonight, I don’t want to regret not asking you this when I had the chance.”

“Oh.” It was a bit morbid, but Valen understood where he was coming from. “Ask away then.”

“Well, don’t make this weird but I just want to know.” Johan paused for a moment as if second-guessing his own question before sucking in a deep breath and finally asking it. “If I’d stayed as Joanna, do you think there was a chance we could’ve gotten together?”

Valen gave his friend a soft smile.

“No, because Joanna never existed,” said Valen. “You’ve always been Johan, and a man I’m proud to call my friend. Now you’re just a little more open about it.”

“...You’re right.” Johan let out a rueful chuckle. “Gods, I wish you were gay.”

“You can do better than me, mate,” said Valen. “Tell you what? If I survive the next week I’ll introduce you to some fine chaps from my uni if you’d like.”

“I might just hold you up to that.” Johan’s shoulders slumped as a long sigh escaped his nostrils, looking as though a great weight had been lifted from him. “Happy hunting, playboy.”