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Candyfloss or Death
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The Last Building on Bay Street The First Full Moon
The moon was a round, bright shape on the sky and the fights were brimming.Val wrapped leather straps over her knuckles over and over, scanning the crowds, pin pointing possible opponents that would rise up. There was the guy whose jaw she broke last week; and the girl who had lost to Val three times in a row. Val braced herself, finishing tying the straps – tonight, half the room was out to kill her. She wasn’t going to let that happen – she never did. She stood from where she sat on one of the overturned crates on the damp floor of the underground fighting space, fashioned in one of the old train stations under the city. People sat on anything and everything they could get their hands on – many stood. The fighting pit was literally the track space between the two platforms, no longer under electricity. Sometimes it got flooded and you had to fight in disgusting, ankle-deep muck – now the tracks were relatively dry but treacherous all the same.
The Last Building on Bay Street Cadet Alex
Despite what had happened during the full moon, Diego Delarosa remained parked in front of the coffee shop. So on one particularly grey, drab September Saturday morning, Jamie was moody. There were more customers than usual – the university had finally opened for the year and the first years were busy exploring the area, quickly finding the most instagramable joints and the most run down, dodgy places that they could use to pretend they led more interesting, dark lives than they did in reality. Their constant chatter and laughter gritted on Jamie; he preferred when the coffee shop was simply filled with comatose regulars, whom the onslaught of students seemed to keep at bay. Jamie sighed, pouring lattes into tall, chipped glasses. The rush would quiet down after a few weeks, at least, but the crypt would remain abnormally packed until at least after Christmas. The rusty bell above the doors chimed for the sixth time in the past ten minutes and Jamie groaned internally, ‘
The Last Building on Bay Street Weed Goes First
Jamie was afraid of very few things – police stations were one.Walking out of the coffee shop and avoiding the Diego Delarosa parked out front was another.‘’Shit man, just go,’’ Art said, watching Jamie stare determinedly at the doors for the nth time in the last half an hour, ‘’we’re running low. We need more coffee.’’ It was a drab September Saturday and Toby caught the cold; Art eagerly volunteered to take over his shift at the coffee shop, before Buster (who was doing a street dancing act with Raphael’s brother, Carmelo) or Raphael (who took on a couple shifts at the old people’s home a half hour bus ride away) could beat him to it. But watching Jamie get too scared to walk out of the front doors was as amusing as it was fatiguing – and, as usually on Saturday mornings, they had a steady flow of students demanding coffee which was running out rather quickly.‘’What f he follows me?’’ Jamie asked uneasily, craning his neck to glare at the police car idling on the curb. It had bee
The Last Building on Bay Street The Pack on Bay Street
After their last meeting, in which Fritz threatened Raphael, the tattooist didn’t expect to see him again so soon. September wasn’t even over when Raphael finished stacking his equipment on the shelves, the other employees of A Touch of Ink long gone, and walked out of the warehouse-style room on the first floor of the last building on Bay Street to find Fritz leaning on the wall. He looked deep in thought but he jerked away from the wall, like he hadn’t expected Raphael to actually come out, when the tattooist cleared his throat, ‘’h-hey,’’ Fritz said, trying to compose himself. His dreadlocks were pulled back in a ponytail, hands stuffed in a puffy, worn bomber jacket, looking a little thin for the weather that had now become laced with freezing rain and even more-freezing wind, but Raphael didn’t say anything. He didn’t smile. He didn’t return the greeting, not after last time. Not after Fritz pinned him to the wall, yelled at him for no reason and then threatened to beat him up. H
The Last Building on Bay Street Bay Street's New Florist
Once October came around, there was no denying that it was too cold to walk around without a coat. Gus found himself making his way home from the Halloween party committee meeting by himself. Like each year, his fellow high schoolers – Jamie and Val – adamantly refused participation in what they called ‘the most cringe worthy event of the year’ (especially considering you had to pay for a ticket) and glared at anyone who dared approach them about it. Gus, on the other hand, was the most approachable person and earth and, as always, he got roped into the party’s committee. As he returned, the sun was already setting, flooding the dusty alleyways he was using to get to Bay Street quicker with soft orange light. Gus was swimming in his tweed, knee-long coat that looked like it had survived WW2 – four blue buttons, a prim collar and grizzly, knitted material made the coat look older than Gus. It was way too big for him, but he’d found it in a charity shop the first winter he’d moved out o
The Last Building on Bay Street You Are a Dancing Queen
Gideon, though he didn’t show it much, was pretty happy that he had a new pack. Back in the werewolf reservoir he’d still been a kid, dropping out of his second year at university to pursue a modelling career his orthodox Jewish family was sceptical of. He’d been adopted by them and changed at three years old and, like most young werewolves, his family had been his first pack. As soon as the reservoir was opened, he ventured out into the human world, something he’d always dreamed of doing. The only setback was losing his pack. While he still had good contact with his family, most of who remained in his family home, the distance made it impossible for them to be a pack. Most wolves that left the reservoir found themselves pack-less. Finding Ellie and the others had been a relief. Alphas were pretty rare and a lot of packs were run by really strong betas, sometimes called pseudo-alphas, like Officer Diego Delarosa. But a pack led by an alpha was stronger, bette
The Last Building on Bay Street Dance, Fucker, Dance
‘’Coffee, tea or hot chocolate,’’ Jamie snapped, ‘’choose.’’Robbo the Hobo, dressed in so many layers you could barely see his face, tapped the few coins he had dug out of his pockets with a broken nail, ‘’I want a latte!’’‘’Since when have your tastes become so acquired, Rob?’’ Jamie rolled his eyes at one of his regulars.‘’The Starbucks in the town centre does Lattes!’’ Robbo said, annoyed.‘’Yeah, well, we’re not a Starbucks and I’ll be drawn and quartet before we are. If you want a Latte, go there!’’‘’No way, man! They charge over three quid!’’‘’Well then,’’ Jamie gave him a killer smile, ‘’coffee, tea or hot chocolate?’’‘’Coffee,’’ Robbo grumbled, knowing he’d never win
The Last Building on Bay Street The Second Full Moon
On the day of the full moon, Gus was lying on his stomach on his tiny bed, trying to teach himself the newest math formula they went through at school this week. It was going into his brain like butter and he was speed-writing equations down a page in his ragged notebook when a tentative knock sounded on his doors. Gus’ pencil – he never bought pens, because they ran out of ink quickly – paused over his page as he frowned. He didn’t recognise that knock. Marianna always triple-knocked. Art knocked in a continuous stream without stopping until the doors were open; Raphael usually just hollered for Gus to open as he jogged up the stairs; Buster rapped a beat out on the doors with his open palms; Val slammed her fist into the door as if she was trying to break in; and Jamie never knocked. Jamie just walked in and dumped himself on Gus’ bed. Not one tenant of the last building on Bay Street knocked in such a shy, polite manner. Gus got off his bed and walked up to his door cauti
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