The Bonded (24 page)

The shop owner respectfully adds, “We are born of human parents who carry the DNA and, if we are fortunate, found by your species before it too late and given sanctuary.”

I ask, “What do you mean too late?”

He responds. “Many of us are incarcerated, in mental institutions, or dead from suicide or the state before located.”

Percy demands our attention and says, “Adriel, could you imagine what it would be like to have our hunger for blood, yet no physical need for it as sustenance?” She lets the thought linger, then says, “They are born with a blood lust and no means of appropriating the need. Most of the vampire mix are sociopaths, severe schizophrenics, or just suffer from extreme manic depression. When you hear or read of serial killers, mass murderers, or even monsters that launch genocide, there is a very likely possibility that they are Avvelenato.”

I reply. “Are you saying that all the bad shit that happens to humans is because of these guys?”

“No. Humans are quite capable of murder and ill intent without their assistance, but I am saying that the worst of them could be what Riley is.” She points to shop owner, giving me his name.

Quilici picks the discussion back up. “Although he is a vampire mix, there are others who delineate from our line. His kind certainly has more of the psychological issues, but our kind is much larger and prone to rage. When wars are brutally fought with no respect to the Rules of Engagement or villages are burned down with no survivors, the waer blood is a strong possibility as the Avvelenato from our bloodline are emotional creatures with heightened senses and near preternatural strength.”

“What is the sanctuary that you offer them? If they are truly psychotic, how are they to be trusted or controlled?” I say with justification.

Percy glances to Quilici with a non-approving stare, begging him to reply with reason. Quilici receives the request, grudgingly accepts, and says, “We cannot scientifically explain this
as of yet
, but there is a natural order of things between our kind. They innately accept our positions of authority and we, in turn, care for them, giving them refuge and utilizing their talents or areas of interests. For instance, Riley has a genuine talent with sewing and creative designs that accommodate our unique criteria. There is also a side of him that yearns for blood. He is detailed, thorough, and meticulously precise, which is the perfect combination to meet certain needs of the tribe or pack that require, how should I say… anonymity.”

I strike the question, “Are you saying that Riley is an assassin?”

Before Quilici responds, I hear Riley inhale, a sound crammed with yearning as he fantasizes about a past or future murder. Then Quilici rolls his eyes and says, “That is correct and he is rather skilled in both talents. This may sound odd to you, Adriel, as you thought you were human only months ago, but it is our way and must be done to ensure our species survives.”

Percy steals the next sentence. “I think both of you may be underestimating Adriel and his willingness to approach this new life with pragmatism. He killed when he thought he was human; he has killed since, and I suspect that he will have no problem killing our own kind when the situation demands it. No one—human, waer, or vampire—should relish in the apathetic and calculated murder of another, no matter their species, but all of us understand what is necessary for survival, whether for food or protection.”

Everyone sensed her dangerous tone as she spoke and Riley seemed to soak in her cold resolve with unreserved pleasure. She continues. “Riley, what have you heard?”

Whimsically he answers, “Now, Percy, you know that I can’t reiterate what has been said in my presence. That would surely not end well for me with business, and perhaps it would end my life as well.”

I could tell she was sensing his need for approval and that he really wanted to share what he must have overheard. Both species must trust him as a confidant, or at the very least, an impotent threat for him to have information that we desire. She says, “Riley, you have been an excellent… no,
the
most efficient talent I have ever seen in my three and a half centuries with the tribe. You have completed missions that privately were said to be impossible for one of your kind, and in some cases ours as well. You are smart, intuitive, strategic, and cunning, and if there is anyone who is not
afraid
of our kind, it is you. You have known me for years and know that I am loyal, so let us dispense with these games and tell us what you know. In return, I will offer you assignments on the side to stave off that unnatural hunger of yours.”

I can see his wobbly eye bouncing with vibrating speed, attempting to weigh the risk and reward of Percy’s proposal. He shifts the glare to Quilici for confirmation and receives it with a slight nod, then over to me he stops and lingers for a while, contemplating with murderous inner dialogue. Finally, after the moment is geared up to burst, he says, “They have been actively looking for him. The incident last evening in the waer bar was enough to start a ripple that has since grown in depth and speed, which now includes the waers and vampires in a unified effort to capture Adriel. They questioned me concerning your whereabouts and I, of course, explained that I am a neutral party. Yet, in this particular instance, that was not enough and they demanded I confide all information I have collected. Fortunately, I have learned to quiet my impulses and they detected no lying from me. So, in reality, you already owe me quite a debt, but I am willing to let that triviality go because I am finding this absolutely fascinating.”

Quilici interrupts, “What of us?”

“You and Persephone are to be killed on sight for treason. Having you here in my store will give them a scent to track, so I suggest that you make this quick.” He stalls for a second and finds Percy. “I have the coats to your specifications and I must admit that it may be some of my most brilliant work. Give me a moment to retrieve them.”

Like a ghost he disappears into the back room, leaving the mood heavy with anxiety. Quilici is the first to break the spell. “If the waers and vampires have joined forces, the danger has multiplied significantly. We must make haste!”

I withdraw into thought, remembering every detailed experience with Cassius and think of the similarities between my new friend Riley and him, yet I’m certain that Cassius thinks of himself as superior. They are both sociopaths, lacking the ability to empathize with others, which in turn enables a truly objective ability to strategize or plan. What if I had no concern for others, no thought for their futures, and simply thought of them as pieces to achieve my results? If I were unfettered by the chains of conscience, it would be so much more efficient to accomplish whatever mission I desired. In epiphany, I say, “My gut is telling me that this is much more complex than we imagine. Cassius has been planning and manipulating this scheme for a millennia, and I can’t help but wonder how deep this is. He’s ruthless and won’t concern himself with the loss of a waer or vamp as long as his objective is successful.”

Percy thoughtfully responds, “We need to…”

At that moment Riley slides through the curtain with a couple of garment bags in one hand, saying, “Did I interrupt something important?” The room is eerily silent, as no one is willing to intimate to Riley our plans or questions. So he continues with delightful suspicion. “Here are the long coats I’ve created to your, ummm… almost exact specifications, Persephone.” He languidly places them on a hangar to the left and patiently awaits our response.

Percy wastes no time in unzipping the lengthy bag from top to bottom, revealing a long black coat tailored for a woman with the shorter, more feminine length to accentuate her body… women. Although, secretly I steal a few stares and have a quick fantasy. She senses my pleasure and I turn red with embarrassment, which, in turn, gives her pleasure—damn these games. After slipping on the coat, she feels the texture and gives an approving nod to Riley.

She says, “This is absolutely perfect! The material was something I did not expect, but am very pleased to find.”

Riley, grinning as much as a psychopath can, says, “It’s the fabric used in athletic gear to wick away moisture. I thought it would serve dual purposes. Your temperature runs high and the light fabric is breathable
and
it is also thin enough to yield to your body’s movement during battle.” He notices Percy looking for a slit on the outer back of the coat that would give her access to the sword. “I apologize, Persephone but I did have to make one modification. You wanted a coat that would securely house a sword and make it readily accessible, but you also mentioned that it would need to be stealthy to ensure one could be in public without unwanted attention. So, instead of the hilt sticking out of the coat like a beacon, I decided to go another direction. Inside your coat on the left side, there is a seam that runs from the high waist to the bottom. It is identical to the other side in every way, but this one has an opening that will perfectly wrap around your scabbard with no bulging, no hilt in plain view, and no hindrance.”

Percy, with subdued excitement, unhooks the scabbard from her belt and fills the black coat with its entire length, save the hilt, which is left uncovered to pull in an emergency situation. A glimpse of my fantasy returns. The coat accepts her sword and closes around her, leaving no evidence that a lethal weapon is a second from being unsheathed. She holds back a full smile, letting half of it slip, and says, “You have outdone yourself this time, Riley. It is fashionable and practical. Adriel, you need to try yours on as well.”

I follow the same procedure: unzipping, removing, and trying on the porcelain-white coat to gauge the fit when I notice what a talented sempster Riley is. He’s never seen me, well at least that I am aware of, and yet the sleeves are perfect and the waist is slim with an athletic cut. The coat is similar to a trench coat, resting below my knees, and conforms to my body without revealing too much, still concealing my sword. Like Percy, I unhinge my scabbard from my belt and steal a glance to Riley as he is paying extra attention to the intricate glyphs snaking through the scabbard. It’s a matching set, but the sword alone holds the power and the scabbard is only a storage container that has been crafted with obvious adoration. His eagerness bleeds all over the room and my heightened senses are saturated with his blinding need to see what rests within, so I grant his wish. With a click I unsheathe my sword; a metallic zing echoes as metal rubs metal.

The sword constantly glows now with my stolen energy, waiting to be released in some way still foreign to me. Riley steps closer, but cautiously stops short of getting within touching distance. I realize that he is practicing self-control as his urge to take what he desires is suppressed within his grimaced frown. He clamps his arms to his side and breathes heavy, inhaling the mysterious power that radiates from the sword and me.

He says, “It is indeed strange—the connection that is.”

I say, “What do you mean?”

“I will not live the long life of your kind, but I have seen much in what has been given to me. I know a specialized weapon when I see one.” Percy and I catch each other instantly in a surprised exchange that another would know this instinctually. He goes on, “I see that you already have discussed this.” He perceives Quilici’s concealed astonishment. “Ahhh, and it appears that Quilici has not had the privilege of that conversation. Trust is earned, Quilici, not given. Adriel was wise not to divulge all information; in my experience, leverage and knowledge have more power than armies of soldiers.”

Percy cuts him off to heal a fresh wound. “Quilici, we trust you and I am sorry that we did not share this with you, but time has been our enemy and every moment has been filled with battle or strategy. From this point on, you will know what we know.” She was sincere. I could feel it without having to utilize any special method of detection, as our bond was strengthening. The oppressive guilt mixed with betrayal steadied and calmly dissipated, leaving a clean, crisp air of forgiveness in its place as Quilici conceded as a parent forgives his children. “Riley, thank you for your services. I will make the transfer immediately from my usual account and will be in touch with you soon for a mission. Are you open to accepting jobs that would include our kind?”

Riley shudders with satisfaction and says, “That would be a lifelong dream come true. I’ve always wanted to test my skills against your kind.”

Quilici says, “Well, you will have your chance soon enough.”

This was the departure hint as the conversation was wrapping up so I interject, “Riley, thanks for the jacket and the color as well.” I give him a half smile and he accepts. “It was good to meet you and to learn of your kind.”

He responds, “The pleasure was mine, young one, but I do have one more jacket. Percy, what would you like for me to do with your
special
order?”

Percy must have forgotten about the order and processes her response in a flash. “Overnight it to him.” Then she looks to Quilici and me, saying, “All of us need to carry our weapons at all times, so I had another made… It’s special because it was made for two swords.” She anticipates my question by making an instant read on my curiosity and responds. “Bryn is highly skilled.”

I say, “I thought only one sword for one vamp?”

Riley interrupts, “He was the weapons master and one of rare talent. Percy, I will make sure he receives it by tomorrow’s night. Now, you must go. You are not my only customers.”

Chapter 13

The ride to the graveyard is filled with mission banter as Quilici and Percy discuss the sword and all the possibilities that it creates while I withdraw, resting my head against the window and peering out into the stagnate darkness. I sense Percy understands my yearning for isolation and that my time allotted for conversation was used up several nights earlier. I’ve learned to regulate social interaction through years of overextending myself in the presence of too many people, or even just one would be enough to drain me to the point where I would seek reclusion and recharge for days. I feel the tug of self-preservation pulling me from this place and my temperament growing restless from neglecting “me” time.