Indigo Vamporium (19 page)

“I didn't feed from her,” I argue.

“You must have. You tasted her blood for sure to know what she's feeling.”

Rummaging through my memories, I finally recall tasting the blood from her cut finger at Brett's party.

Looking across the Cape of Storms, I watch as clouds morph, coagulating into thick clusters of deadly gray, scudding swirling tumbleweeds across the sky in a manner befitting the avenging angels ready to blow their trumpets to begin the final battle. They hover over us, wide and imposing, soot-dark, their internal furnaces set to electrocute, powering up like a flickering fluorescent tube in its dying moments.

That's the kind of megawatt Tazer which comes with a Do Not Revive warning label.

It strikes, sewing the angelic clouds together in electrical surges, infusing the night with nebulae so low and moist they illuminate shaded vales with sheet lightning, casting probes deep into the ground, dowsing for the one who could be my redeemer.

Sinking volts of venom into the earth, the storm searches like sniffer dogs though cocaine windstorms. The world splashes and gyrates, strobing from blinding and thunderous to rumbling and pitch dark, like an OCD hermit counting to thirteen, flicking the switch on off, on off, on off, on off, on off ad infinitum... before he can climb into bed, to hide from the monster who holds the tooth fairy captive in a jar after he pulled her wings off.

Lightning booms canon loud from Signal Hill, across God's footstool of Table Mountain, and the ocean answers.

Shocked, I look away from the apex where we teeter on the tip of Chapman's Peak, out to sea, watching the tidal surge froth and foam with rabid frenzy, the ningen surfing into shore, their pellucid opalescent flesh turning them into moonstone monsters coming to reap the ripe evil that befouls the ocean and strips their sanctuary of sustenance.

Why are they here? What the hell is going on tonight?

“Seithe, what have you done?” Venix breathes in horror on my left.

I don't remember him arriving.

“Seithe's been chosen. They are swearing allegiance to his family, to his children, to his courage.” Arelstin swivels to stare at my uncle, his tone saturated with scorn, “He's the first. You could not do it. Your brothers could not do it. You sent a child to do a man's job, and he did it better than all of his ancestors put together. Your ego must be limping through the boneyard of their disdain.”

“Shut up, Arelstin. If I want your opinion I'll ask for it,” snaps Venix.

Arelstin looks at me, smiling, his eyes as bright as the angels in the sky wearing cloud costumes. “Seithe remembers. He remembers what he is,
who
he is. He's the first to recall. The first to awaken and light the torch for the rest to find their way home.”

He's so excited he blinks to my side, lifting my arm up in the night, brandishing it like I'm some kind of champion because the ningen left the safety of their refuge to help me find my girl. But they can't help.

“Yes they can. They want the perpetrator, Seithe. They will wait there until you, their new liege and mascot, brings them the flesh of the wicked man. They want justice and bloodshed tonight.”

“We don't do bloodshed. That's not what I'm about,” I stutter, snapping out of my day long coma. I've been foggy and fruitless all day, lethargic and unable to muster energy or courage, until now.

“You must protect our secrets by making him disappear, the ningen offer that option. He will set you up to take the fall for him the way he framed Ellindt. He's gifted in the shadowed occult walk, the path of men who choose to read the grimoires of holy men who divined for God as if he was nothing more than an energy for them to exploit. They still exploit God. They will not change, and their hunger for more power is bottomless. It's an abyss with no light, Seithe. In this the ningen are right. Let them take him to the chasm, where he will find his own kind.”

“His own kind?” I'm getting addled and confused again.

“Yes,” Arelstin nods, the wind picking up to such speed I feel like we're about to be sucked into the vacuum of the heavens. “It's a bloodline, Seithe. Just like you have your own special vampyre bloodline that walks the earth. We are two halves of the same tree. Never to see eye to eye, only one face sees the light, the other is in perpetual darkness, their souls beyond the ethereal bounty of creation. They are personified damnation and they breed with humans to populate their ranks with serial killers and dictators who have no conscience. They do not understand compassion, empathy, regret, or remorse. They simply do what comes naturally... destroy.”

“Find her Seithe! Concentrate!” bellows Venix, over the rising volume of the gathering tempest. “We're running out of time! He's readying to breach her innocence, to take what he did not earn. Follow her spirit, just float wherever the tug takes you, let her hook catch the whale.”

And then I hear it clear as a stethoscope.

Her sigh is so close it's in my ear, breathing heat around the lobe, her lips softly pressing on my neck.

Auras collide in an intimate embrace, and I hold tight, pulling my physical body through the ether to manifest inside her shadow.

Chapter 25

Seithe:

I recognize the smell immediately having been here on the tour. Arriving inside the dungeons of the Castle, the Cape's oldest and cruelest prison, my skin crawls with the paranormal pain saturating the air.

I don't have time to plan, I just react, becoming the eagle, ready to fight to the death, slamming my combat boot into the side of his head, pitching him off her.

Tackling him, holding him down, I move us to the beach, into the waiting circle of ningen.

Hopping up, I uppercut his jaw, flicking a foot-sweep behind his tangled legs and smashing him to the ground, grunting with the exertion when my knuckles jam into his cheekbone.

His skin sticks to my hand like squashed maggots, seeping gunge.

He rolls, laughing at me with contemptuous arrogance, “Vampyre, you're stupid to take me on.”

“What are you?” I demand, flipping over him and roundhouse kicking the back of his neck, delighted when I hear a satisfying snap of dislocation.

“Halrontafic. Your nemesis. Your antidote. Your superior,” he smirks, rotating his head until his neck cracks loudly back into place.

Running at him, ready to kill him, Zarak appears in front of him, shoving me aside. “I'll handle this, son.”

Scrambling back onto my feet, I'm shocked when Zarak is held down by a mammoth ningen, as long as Table Mountain is tall, his tail whacking Ross, hurling him through the air into the ocean and sweeping the rest of us into hitting the deck to avoid it.

A ningen waiting in the goal launches out of the sea like a tidal wave, catching Ross in its enormous mouth, disappearing into the shadowy depths with its prey.

Jonah and the whale for some reason jumps into my head.

The ningen say nothing, dispersing and clawing their way rapidly into the ocean, the sheer splashing in their wake enough to chill my bones with their violent and purposeful movement. There's something wholly unnatural to their movement on land.

Getting back to my feet, shaking off the sand, ignoring my grazed palms, I look at the demon who interfered. This was my fight. They took it out of my hands, and they were all in the wrong to do that to me.

“Where is she?” grunts Zarak, snapping his own broken leg back into place, his eyes glowing indigo fire.

“The Castle,” I wheeze, surprisingly out of breath.

“Stay here,” he orders, and I notice Arelstin and Venix disappear from their mountain lookout simultaneously. The three of them obviously trying to protect me by going after her first, just in case Ross has badass back up lurking in that prison.

What part of
this is my fight
do they refuse to acknowledge?

Venix reappears with Arelstin, gingerly placing Tasmin down on the soft sand.

Diving to her side, skidding to my knees, I carefully tilt her face my way.

“She's been drugged. She won't recognize you,” says Venix, almost sounding remorseful.

“Is she okay?” I ask them, knowing if anyone would know these two angels would be able to determine it.

Arelstin drops to his knees, facing me man to man, “We are going to have to wipe her memory.”

“Why?” I demand, my voice coming out in a strangled whine.

“The karma collector has infected her soul. She's severely traumatized on a spiritual level. The only way she'll come out of this sane and able to go on with her life is for us to remove all memory of what transpired, heal her best we can, and leave her with amnesia.”

“What?” My bones flex in the sadistic blitz, cruelty charring my hope and discarding it to the ravenous lightning.

This isn't happening. No!

Venix's heavy hand weighs down my shoulder, “I'm sorry son. Holistically she's obliterated. She's left with slithers of identity, partial light in her spirit, and a gaping wound of such worrying magnitude, this is the only solution.”

Tears bubble up my tear ducts, “But... she loved me.”

“I know,” Arelstin mumbles, bowing his head, grief pouring out his eyes to pinpoint beacons into the sand between us.

The shock hammers my pulse, tearing the chasm through my core wide open.

Why do I lose everyone I love?

“What will you do?” I ask them.

“Take her home, leave her on the doorstep, make an anonymous call to alert them.”

That's not good enough. She deserves more. So much more.

“Karma collector?” I ask belatedly.

Venix stands with me, leaving Arelstin to pick up Taz, her head lolling, her eyes glazed, a bandage wrapped around her arm.

Pulling me forcefully away from them as Arelstin vanishes with her, he explains, “Yes. A halrontafic is a karma collector. There's no escape from their bitter fate if you've ever wronged someone.”

“What did she ever do to him that he did
this
to her?” I yell, pointing at the vacant spot where they were.

“He loved her, and she loved you. Unrequited love hurts worse than any war. It's a soul acid that burns to the heart, blackening it for too long. You were the catalyst.”

With the guilt crushing me, the world bottoms out, my knees connecting brutally with sand. Prostrate, a shocked wail warbles out of my chest to scald my throat.

I did this to her.

*

Seithe:

Dressed immaculately, I knock on her door as early as is considered polite.

A blond lady opens the door on the third knock, and I present to her the flowers I brought for Taz.

“Hello. My name is Seithe. I saw the news and see Taz is home. I just wanted to stop by to tell her how sorry I am for what happened to her, and to give her these.”

I lift the pink roses again, wishing they came in blue. The best I could do was mix them up with lobelia which is as indigo as the vamporium not far away.

“Seithe? Come in.”

I'm ushered into the Spanish styled entrance, seeing her sitting idly staring out the window at the milky haze of the weak sunny day.

The entire world feels diminished to me, so I can't even begin to fathom how she feels.

“I'm Tasmin's mum, Judy.”

I shake her hand, dipping politely. “How is she?” I whisper.

“In shock I think. She doesn't remember much and doesn't want to talk about it when we probe. But she keeps the light on next to her and has suddenly wanted her teddy after many years of forgetting about Mister Piddles.”

Judy smiles sadly, tears shining her eyes in unshed pain.

I did this. I didn't keep her safe. I left her unguarded. I'm a vampyre, we have enemies, and I should never have been that gullible or stupid.

“May I see her?” I plead softly.

She nods, “Of course you can. She told me about you before she lost her memory. I think a manly hug would be appreciated as her dad left us a long time ago.”

Nodding, battling the harsh lump in my throat, I tread softly across the lounge, slipping down to my haunches and delicately placing my hand over hers on the arm of her chair.

Vacant blue eyes look my way, blinking rapidly with interlocking black eyelashes, a frown marring her perfection. “Hello?”

I smile gently, “Hello Taz. I'm Seithe. I've come to see how you are.”

“Fine.”

She looks away, dismissing me, losing herself in the gossiping of leaves whispering from tree to tree outside the window.

*

Tasmin:

He smells nice. He makes me nervous.

When he moves behind me, holding my arms in that gentle grip and kisses my neck, magic clicks into the hole in my heart.

Like a key slipping into a lock, turning with esoteric subtlety, I lean in, savoring something familiar.

His tears hit my arm, running into the bandage, and I feel it heal, the ache vanishing instantly.

“Who are you?” I whisper, clinging to his arms like a child in a thunderstorm, keeping them wrapped safely around me.

“Seithe. We were... good friends.”

Just friends? It feels better than friends. I want to climb inside him and hide.

He releases me, coming to my knees, kneeling in front of me, lifting my hand and kissing the back of it. “I'm going away tomorrow, but want you to know I'm going to miss you, so much...”

Clutching his hand, I grip desperately, not wanting him to abandon me. He's the first thing to feel real.

“Don't go,” I beg.

His chin wobbles under emotional duress, “I have no choice.”

He bows his head, staring at my feet.

I wait, the abyss in my mind lurching erratically. I feel lost, but he feels stable and safe.

“You have my cell number. Please text me. Anytime, any hour, day or night. I'll set up an email account and we can chat online if you want. I... you mean too much for me to never talk to you again. You're special.”

I nod, even though I don't understand a word. I'm so lost in this world. Nothing makes sense. Did it ever?

Mum comes and stands on my other side. “Seithe should go now. You need your rest Tasmin.”