Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (40 page)

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Authors: Katri Cardew

Tags: #romance, #vampire, #urban fantasy, #adventure, #universe, #demon, #fantasy, #magic, #elf, #magical, #battles

BOOK: Vampiris Sancti: The Elf
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Demons such as
the Varkja, Druqe, even the Poqir, wished for a stable meeting
point to discuss business, find their kin, or advertise their
services. The constant squabbles of various factions wore thin
quickly and after a few instances of violent cleansing the visitors
and hosts both realised the advantages of providing a haven from
the conflicts of the universe. While those who sought to do their
communications within the Centre could enjoy an unmolested visit.
Those who ran the Centre learned from experience not to provide
sanctuary to any troubled by the foolishness of their actions. The
potential of a Martyc cleansing would make any administrator think
twice before removing the Centre from its neutral status.

Choosing an
administrator was more problematic than establishing peace as
demons gave in to their paranoid delusions of betrayal at every
turn. The magical beings were unreliable, capricious, and most
importantly didn’t want to do it. The Fhreh demon did excel in
administrative duties, but their wandering off in search of the
personal goal of prestige disqualified them. The Druqe worked only
for individuals, the Varkja would assault anyone who annoyed them
despite rules, and the Martycs were already holding the reins of an
Empire. In the end it seemed logical that the demons who gave the
Reveal its universal language would also provide the administrative
duties of the Centre. The problems with maintaining a nomadic staff
were cleverly overcome by providing each Centre with the exact same
set of rules. Once the Giryg tired of one world they simply
exchanged duties with those of another upon another—giving them the
psychological illusion of travel.

As the Centres
developed they became more than places to exchange information,
they were soon a social point where all the latest in demon gossip,
flirtations, and sometimes vendettas were started from. While some
demons with forms similar to their local host could enter the
social area of the world they occupied, those with attributes that
were more exotic were restricted to the establishments who accepted
demon presence. In the human world these establishments were rare,
so the Centre filled the void by actively encouraging social
interactions and hopefully discouraging conflicts.

The unobservant
human walking past the boarded up factories of bygone eras would be
surprised to discover the truth of these structures that barely
registered in their consciousness. Once the light had faded and the
city was returned to those that lived in the shadows there was
often a steady stream of visitors negotiating secret entrances to
hidden depths. The Vampire and demon inhabitants saw the potential
of utilising the cast off, the forgotten and established their
places of business within the debris of the metropolis around
them.

**********

The compulsion
of fate is bitter.

Christoph
Martin Wieland

 

When Zyre woke
the sun was lowering itself in the distance, while the last colours
of the day were no more than a smudge against the darkening sky.
She sat up and stretched leisurely as she surveyed the offensive
plastic garden below. If she had the luxury of an idle moment she
might have melted the lot with a mini blast of Salvae since she
considered their artifice an affront. However, she was an Elf with
many things upon her mind; the first was to get to a food source as
the plastic flowers gave her no strength. She left the stone guards
to their vibrating rumbles and shimmered across the city until she
discovered the brightly lit façade of a large supermarket. She
stood at the far end of the busy parking lot as the rush of the
day’s end came together all at once for their final purchase before
heading home. She had noticed these places before, but had no
interest in exploring because between the Vampires and her
appropriations she had no reason to bother. Avoiding the impatient
drivers she crossed the lot until she came to the doors of the
large market, which instantly slid open as it invited her to enter.
Once inside she saw all manner of people struggling with parcels,
their faces tight with intolerance as bored staff went through the
motions of service.

The air was
filled with noise, the shrill voices of mothers trying to control
their children, speakers crackling with price check queries, the
drone of barely heard music. Trolleys filled the aisles as everyone
negotiated towards the same goal—to be free of the surrounding
chaos. Humming along to the tinny music Zyre wandered through the
fruit section to steal a peach and as she walked no one bothered
her because no one noticed her. She did what Elves did best and hid
in plain sight while munching upon the sweet fruit. An enticing
smell wafted through the air and following it she turned down an
aisle to view rows upon rows of the delicious food called
chocolate. A boy mopping nearby looked up at the new arrival and
she gave him a curious glance as usually only children could see
her. On the cusp between manhood and throwing childhood behind him
he watched with the grin of a conspirator as she opened a bar and
took a bite.

“Hey, hey.”

She smiled at
her audience and the moment his eyes narrowed in appreciation the
Elf seemed to have vanished from his view. She had not disappeared
from the market for she was still in the aisle eating chocolate,
but he had released the magic of childhood for the needs of an
adult and so lost the ability to see her.

Zyre wandered
over to the aisle that contained what she needed, which was a large
supply of honey that she could access at any time. Not once did it
cross her mind that her appropriations were tantamount to stealing
since she was leaving what she considered more than a fair trade.
She reached into her pocket taking out a glass marble whose colours
were beyond human description as they rippled beneath the surface.
She placed the marble carefully between bottles at the back of the
shelf before negotiating an entire box of the plastic bears down.
In her mind a shalur from a magical realm was fair trade for an
entire box of sweet sticky goodness, because everyone knew anything
magical was wonderful! The soothing lull of the Elf song ensured
none of the employees noticed a girl carrying a box out the doors.
Once back in the parking lot Zyre considered where to stash her
bounty for she required a location that was easily accessible and
centrally located. Fleeting thoughts of the beautiful gardens she
had enjoyed passed through her mind, but it was the incongruous
that she accepted as her solution. The Elf shimmered back to one
place no one would look for her—the plastic garden atop a dull grey
building. All who knew of Elves would assume she would go to where
nature could provide her with strength, so the thought of her here
amid the bounty of artifice gave her the perfect hideout.

The garden was
quiet and the plastic flowers glistened silently as the violet
tones of twilight softened their artifice. She placed the box of
precious sweet in the shadow of the sign and unless the little
stone man called Hereward decided to investigate this was a safest
place as any. Sweetness gave her an instant boost as it was
immediate energy food and served in a pinch, but she required much
more. What she needed was a strong source of energy to give a deep
renewal and this was something an entire garden would provide. She
sat surveying the city from her vantage point and she could feel
the surreptitious movement of those who lived within the shadows.
There was too much for her to consider and her mind swirled with
things she didn’t care to ponder. Like a child unwilling to do
their homework she sought distraction and sat watching the
transformation of the city as neon lights lit empty streets.

The Elf was not
used to sorting through her jumble of thoughts because she usually
focused upon the one that appeared to be the most fun and did that.
This time she attempted to keep her mind on the task of working out
who was doing what to whom. According to Beb the thoughts of the
Goblin swirled with Taryst and the Vampire Galt, so she surmised
they knew each other. It didn’t cross her mind to discuss the past
events or knowledge of this information with the Martyc because
Zyre wished to give Vryn a wide berth. His effect upon her was not
only unnerving, but the distraction left her open to many
things—from kisses to attack. Then there was the Tyro that Galt had
fixated upon—between him and the Daughters of Leleht—this girl was
in more trouble than she was aware. Zyre grouped those she knew
into two lists, her enemies and those who were not—friend was not a
word she cast about easily. Those who were not included, Florian,
the Varkja, maybe the Ghuvk, those who were included
Taryst—recognising the Martyc as an enemy hit a nerve and Zyre got
up to walk along the edge of the building. She had nowhere left to
go since her mind refused to allow her any more illusions. She had
recklessly claimed Vryn in the face of Taryst and now she was stuck
with the aftermath of such boldness.

Zyre, the Elf
with no plan, inadvertently tumbled into seeking information and
unable to plot any logical course of action she fell back onto old
habits. Like all her past major decisions she chose the path that
seemed the most amusing, which right now was to terrorize a
Goblin.

“Guard the
sweet!” she instructed the stone guards who vibrated their
response.

She dissolved
across town until she reached the roof opposite the Centre to find
it occupied by the usual group of watching Oric. This time they had
sent several women to do the observing and unused to sudden Elf
appearances one raised her bow towards the Elf.

She smiled at
her would-be opponent. “Is this be way we greet friends?”

Confused, the
girl looked towards her group who seemed unsure of her identity.
Zyre sighed in frustration surely these creatures bothered to speak
among themselves?

She put her
hand on her hips wishing the efficient girl who took Beb was there
while she admonished the ill informed group.
“Battle—Raiders—Varkja—Martyc—Vampires!”

Her explanation
managed to confuse the group even more as they looked at each other
searchingly. In exasperation Zyre snapped her fingertips causing
the Salvae to spark. The dawning knowledge of her identity spread
across their faces causing one to exclaim excitedly.

“The turquoise
gown!”

Another,
assuming the role of their leader, stepped forward and Zyre
examined the young woman armed like an archer. She was taller than
the Elf with a solid compact body of toned muscles and athletic
agility. She wore her light brown hair cropped and her calm blue
eyes shone brightly with intelligence. Her group stood behind her
and while not afraid of the Elf she could feel their readiness to
defend. She read the air and not able to sense the Goblin on world
Zyre wondered if he had found a way to hide from his own kind. If
that were true, then she would have to track him the blinkity
bothersome hard way using information like everyone else. Disposing
of their almost introductions Zyre made her query straight to the
point.

“Did you see
the Nefarious One?”

The girls
shuffled and their leader repeated the question. “The Nefarious
One?”

Zyre realised
that they were too green to discern a magical creature from a demon
and she left them with the observation, “Your men need to bring you
on patrol more often.”

The lack of
help from the Oric didn’t worry her for she had spied someone who
could, who would by the time she had finished amusing herself. The
Elf moved to the roof of the Centre and while it had the addition
of a few Gargoyles they ignored those wandering about beside them.
The sand eyes of the Poqir bugled as he twitched nervously before
one creature he could never fool with his chameleon attributes.
Zyre considered her options and decided that the best way to scare
a demon was not to be demonic because they were used to their own
kind. Magical beings, behaviour, threats, however, were things no
demon wished to encounter during disreputable pursuits as the
magical often overstayed their welcome. Zyre stood close to the
Poqir and allowed him to watch her clear green eyes turn a stormy
teal. His flat features stretched taut as his skin went from the
red of the brick he stood against back to its natural ivory while
he froze in silent anxiety.

His fear was a
palpable entity upon the atmosphere and the Elf realised that he
probably would say anything to remove her from the area so she
decided to change tactics. Pulling the last shalur from her pocket
she waved the ever-changing coloured marble under his nose. As
magical beings rarely traded outside their realm the semi precious
stone had great value among collectors and despite his fear the
demon’s eyes lit up at the sight of the bribe. Zyre knew the
protocol of the Poqir and if she wasn’t going to toss one off a
roof, then she would have to barter with him.

The Poqir tried
to hide his interest as he casually enquired, “What would you want
for such a bauble?”

His comment
fooled neither of them, but as with all demons the game had to be
played according to the rules. Zyre rubbed the marble between her
fingertips and the fluid change of colours hypnotised her
audience.

“I seek the
path of the Nefarious One,” she said in a quiet voice.

The demon
seemed baffled by the question as everyone knew magical could find
like easily. “He is nowhere and no one has seen or spoken to
him—not that anyone was looking. Can’t you sense he is not
inside?”

Zyre frowned
impatiently. “I know he is not there you dresniq. I be wanting to
know if you have seen him at all.”

“Not since
before the attack by Raiders.”

Obviously
everyone knew about her involvement in dispatching the Raiders, but
his surprise at her lack of knowledge had her review the events.
She had been so preoccupied with getting Beb back home that she
failed to notice if the Nefarious One had been waiting in sly
silence. Zyre would have cursed except the experience of Elves
tended to be more of having curses thrown at them. Of course, the
Goblin was gone! How could he remain after being pixilated by Beb?
How could she have not seen this happening—she was no better than
one of those lumbering Aegai! The Poqir held out his hand for in
his mind he had fulfilled the deal.

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