Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (6 page)

Looking for
privacy, or perhaps sanctuary, the girl continued down a side
passage until she reached a dead end littered with the filth of
stale garbage and vermin carcass. Little did the distressed Vampire
know was that her path had been under observation by several
interested parties. The Elf watched from the entrance, the Varkja
watched the Elf from the corner, the scent of the Vampire almost
Aunsin played upon the air, and on the roof the Oric fumbled while
the young Vampire heaved into the gutter. For a few seconds time
suspended as all focused upon a creature unaware of the fragility
of her continued existence, or of the complexity of worlds
interacting around her.

The Oric were
unable to see the magical creature hiding in plain sight, but Zyre
felt their obvious presence assaulting her senses. She turned
towards it in time to see them leap from the rooftop with lightning
alacrity, their leather clad bodies tied to ropes. Their movements
were symmetry of precision, honed by years of practice, except they
were still the limited abilities of humans. As proficient as they
were, they were no match for the rest of the girl’s audience and
Zyre felt the tremors in the air the second they left the roof.
Before they had fallen even centimetres downwards the Elf had
ignored her philosophy of live or die and intervened. She dissolved
to appear beside the girl and grabbed her arm in a firm grip. Once
landed the Oric ran towards the girl ready to strike, but their
knives shattered against the protective shield of the magical Vesi.
The clang of the metal had the Varkja move away from his corner
observation and into the entrance of the lane, ready to act if the
humans tried again. Faced with both the formidable power of Martyc
security and an unknown magical being the Oric removed themselves
with the same swift efficiency they had appeared.

Shivering in
shock the girl seemed unaware of the Varkja slinking back into the
shadows, though her saviour had noticed his presence. At that
moment, Zyre was torn between emotion and alarm while she puzzled
over her reaction to the attack of the girl because usually she
left things to be what they were. It wasn’t Elf nature to engage in
the rescue of another, sometimes the destruction, but rescue would
mean bothering about something. The other problem was the presence
of the Varkja because where there was a Varkja there would soon be
a Martyc, and she didn’t want any other interactions than what
already happened. She would have left, but the girl with her
mixture of fragility and incomparable ignorance intrigued Zyre
enough to have her interact even more with the pitiful
creature.

She complained
with the indignation of one refusing to accept the reality before
her while she shouted at the Elf.

“What the
hell’s going on, why did they attack me, and how did you stop
them?”

The young
Vampire crumpled to the ground trembling as her belligerent words
were at odds with her pathetic response to the violence. Zyre could
feel the wave of panic sitting on the air between them, pungent as
the scent of demons approaching from behind. She knew that in a few
moments it would not matter. Or else all her questions would be
answered. She gave the girl the full benefit of her kaleidoscope
Elf gaze while her senses kept watch on the Varkja in the
shadows.

“You be a
Vampire now and the ones who come will tell you all.”

Zyre knew of
the coming Aegai, the demon servants of the Ghuvk, their job was to
keep order on the streets while gathering up lost Vampires like
her. The seven foot monsters with their greenish snake like skin
and dull yellow cat eyes were enough to scare anyone at first
glance until you realised they were dumb as well—demons. They also
had this annoying habit of repeating what the last one said until
it wound up a chorus of endless nonsense. She would have happily
blasted the lot into another universe but, unfortunately, even the
most dim witted of demons were protected by Sere.

She believed
the girl’s fate was not death, at least not with the Old World
Blood coursing through her. There was also the watchful eye of the
almost Ancient Vampire, who should have been in an Ashre instead of
pretending not to care. The Elf had been aware of his presence
following them into the street as his power rode the atmosphere
like a sharp spike, alerting her and the Varkja attempting to blend
into the landscape. She went to move, but Vampire ears heard the
scrape of the boots in the distance and alarmed by what was coming
the girl pleaded.

“Wait!”

Zyre’s
amusement was best obtained from a distance as she had problems of
her own that needed immediate attendance. Whatever reason the
Aunsin Vampire chose to survey his dealings remotely was not of her
concern and his agenda, while beguiling, was overshadowed by
another. Much as Zyre would have enjoyed watching the girl’s first
interaction with the dimwit servants of the Ghuvk, she appreciated
that the more distance between her and the lackey of the Martyc the
better. Not that many besides the Elf would call a Varkja a lackey
as some things were best left unspoken. Ignoring her plea, because
the girl was not her responsibility, and the Elf had already been
involved more than enough she left the young Tyro to her fate.

Zyre dissolved
to reappear on a roof adjacent to the Chambers, a place she had
discovered after following the stomping of the Aegai one night. She
knew they would bring the young Vampire straight there to await
judgement of the Scriptors. They recorded and enforced the Code of
Aeternus, the Vampire laws. Life or death, it was all the same to
the demon servants of the Vampire nation, which was why they were
used instead of Vampire enforcers. Zyre crouched low on the roof,
hoping the Varkja wouldn’t be bright enough to work out where she
was because her interest in the Tyro had not waned. One who had so
many interested parties became suddenly even more interesting to an
Elf who allowed no curiosity to go unexplored. A noise below caught
her attention, and she was surprised to see the Vampire who had
been tracking the girl stop before the side door of the
Chambers.

He stood still
for a moment his back straight with suspicion and Zyre knew he had
noticed something, but wouldn’t be able to work out it was her.
Vampires, even those approaching Aunsin, weren’t good enough at
reading the atmosphere to find her. He assessed the impact of
whatever disturbed him and obviously didn’t consider it a threat as
it only took seconds before he continued through the doorway.
Interested in the fate of the girl Zyre moved across to the roof of
the Chambers to find a small skylight with bars that let her look
into the Vampire world below.

The Chambers
was a vast area the size of a huge warehouse, but the only part of
the structure she could see was a central corridor filled with two
rows of cells separated by thick black bars. A large gap stood
between the cells as various incarcerated demons reached out in an
attempt to detach limbs from anyone within reach. She recognised a
Perhk, the thief demon, his mauve skin crisscrossed with black
veins that showed under the surface. There was a Poqir, the flat
featured chameleon demon, blending into the floor and against the
bars in a flicker of panic as his sand eyes bulged with alarm.

The imprisoned
Vampires seemed to be more subdued—either too traumatized, or had
accepted their fate to bother complaining. Three Scriptors, scribe
demons, sat behind an enormous long desk at one end as their quills
scribbled endless notes. They were tall thin demons with lemon
eyes, parchment skin and wore flowing beige robes. Behind them were
three doors leading to whatever mysteries the rest of the huge
building held. The Aegai wandered up and down the corridor shouting
at the inhabitants while a lone Fhreh, the short orange haired
speckled skin demon, rushed back and forth in his administrative
duties.

Zyre scanned
the room until she found the girl and unlike the other Vampires,
who sat in a quiet daze, she was passed out. Despite her lack of
consciousness one of the guards rattled her door while shouting at
her in Giryg that she would be dust soon enough.

His companion
nudged him with the words, “Not this one, she smells of Old
World.”

As if this was
an introduction, the Old World Vampire entered quietly causing the
guards to fall over themselves while bending in obeisance to their
visitor. Zyre considered the continued presence of the powerful
Vampire and realising that an intrigue was unfolding decided to
keep a close eye on the Tyro. However, she couldn’t ignore the
environment any longer as a breeze pulled at her sleeves and the
trace of a Fairy flitted across her senses. As hidden as they might
be from the other worlds magical always could see like and Zyre
knew it was not by chance this being was near. The creatures below
looked up in sudden unison as if they subconsciously recognised
they had an audience, but the Elf had already moved backwards to a
magical liaison.

Zyre was used
to unusual encounters, Vampires, sorcerers, witches, demons, they
would materialize ablaze with agendas that sometimes burned more
than their bridges and she watched them soar or crash with equal
detachment. A Fairy was one being she wanted to avoid, dreaded
encountering, for Beb had warned of this impending communication.
Zyre led the Fairy away from the Chambers because any information
noted by a Fairy was always too much. She was aware that a Fairy
traversing the Reveal didn’t augur good news and hoped he wanted no
more than directions from her. This hope was as fleeting as it was
improbable because Fairies, the annoying bastards, always got it
right the first time.

The Fairy gazed
at her with his cold periwinkle eyes, at least from the voice she
thought it was a male for it was hard to tell with them. Unlike the
androgynous Pixie where no one knew if they even had genders,
Fairies all looked like girls and not just similar to each other,
but flawless replicas of splendour. The male and females of the
magical realm tended to be hard to distinguish between because they
were either beautiful like Fairies and Pixies, or mud ugly like
Gnomes and Goblins. It had been often reflected that there should
be some genetic law outlawing beards on women since Gnome women
sported ones that rivalled their male counterparts. This gender
confusion left their kingdom, as was magical wont, to seek the
easiest recourse, so all Gnomes were addressed as Gnome! This was
not the same as those of the Reveal addressing all Varkja as
Varkja, for the demons had no difficulty distinguishing between
each other. This address dispelled the outside myth that the
magical world functioned on so many levels of beauty and perfection
that the male and females became parallel and indistinguishable to
the outsider. The Gnome was anything but lovely, and Elves were
always female, so it was only the Pixie and the Fairy that
confounded native and visitor alike.

The Fairy
ignored any social niceties as there was business at hand and
travel to another world was enough of a stress without enduring the
pretence of friendship. He leaned into Zyre, which sent a chill up
her spine as nothing could be more intimidating than perfection up
close. He spoke with the clear, crisp tones of authority, which
meant this was a direct communiqué from the Elders. While she had
no intent of obeying any edict from her government she couldn’t
entirely still the alarm tingling in her mind. One could never put
the plans or influence of a Martyc, especially a prince, aside for
they manipulated everyone and everything. It was also just her luck
to escape one Martyc only to run into another occupying this world.
Though she had hoped to keep off his radar despite the wretched
Varkja trailing her, the arrival of a Fairy didn’t help.

The Fairy
glared into her eyes and said, “There is a problem with....”

His voice
trailed off as he became distracted by moonlight glittering on a
television aerial. Zyre waited in exasperation, how like a Fairy in
the middle of an urgent communication to become distracted by
something shiny.

The Fairy
suddenly regained composure and continued, “...the Pixies.”

Relief flooded
Zyre—relief combined with confusion—for what had their issue with
Pixies to do with her.

She replied,
“How’s this of me? I don’t bother with Pixies and they not be
wandering here.”

She hoped that
the lie would pass because she hadn’t been associating with Pixies
beyond Beb since few ever did out of choice. She was also right,
despite the abundance of gin in the human world there were still
too many lurking dangers for the Pixie. Even with the task of a
specific message to deliver rarely did Pixies stray beyond the
limits of the magical realm. The Fairy looked impatient as if Zyre
was suffering a mental challenge and explained in a patronising
tone that annoyed her.

“Demons be
getting Pixies drunk and asking about magical, including the wishes
of the Xatn.”

Zyre stared at
the Fairy while waiting for further explanation. He seemed to think
that she understood the ramifications of his statement and although
it did take a few minutes—she understood. The Elders wished for her
to think demons interested in a Martyc reward were interfering with
magical communications. Since no demon had ever been successful in
obtaining influence in her world, despite several marriages to
Elves, she was not convinced. The Fairy finally progressed to the
command from the Elders.

“The Martyc who
requested union with you be Xatn of this world. You are to present
yourself to him and stop the danger to your kind.”

He left upon a
gust of wind that removed him as quickly as it had deposited him
leaving an Elf determined to do anything but comply with this
demand. She was distressed that the Martyc she had hoped to escape
turned out to be the local prince, the Xatn, who of course now knew
of her presence. Considering the information of the Fairy, she
reasoned that demons had been getting Pixies drunk since the
discovery of the Reveal. Why would the Elders suddenly think she
would believe they were allowing Pixies to get drunk off world and
consort with nosy demons? She decided that this—like many other of
their edicts—was full of their usual lies because that was how the
Elders ensured their orders were applied. Since many of Elders were
often Elves themselves they should have learned, if not anything
over the centuries concerning their own kind, was never fib to a
fibber because it was as unbelievable as pretending to like
Goblins.