A Shade of Vampire 31: A Twist of Fates (4 page)

A
fter I managed
to escape Yuraya’s advances on the deck and put her to sleep with the special plant I’d gathered from The Woodlands, I spent the journey standing at the bow of the ship with Cecil.

He knew far more about navigating ships than I did, of course—especially those drawn by dolphins—and he also had knowledge of how to reach The Dunes.

As the hours passed, day turning into night, I headed down to the lower decks several times to check that Yuraya was still under the influence. When I sensed that she might be drawing too close to consciousness, I would chew up some more of the plant and drop its juice into her mouth, which soon knocked her out again.

We could probably keep her for days in this state. And that might be exactly what we had to do, if things didn’t go according to plan.

I needed to reach the realm of the jinn—The Dunes—and beg a favor of them. Based on what Victoria had told me, jinn were stronger and more powerful than witches. I needed the jinn to turn me, permanently alter me somehow, into something that even my parents would reject. Something that would cause shame and embarrassment to their fine lineage, a being they would want to forget even existed.

They were so wrapped up in their traditions. Now I had to attempt to use that to my full advantage.

I thought of Rona, still hiding in that old boat by The Woodlands’ shore. Hopefully she would survive while I was gone. Hopefully the Mortclaws would not find her. Even though I had discovered that she was not related to me by blood, I still felt a responsibility for her. She had no one now that her family had been slaughtered by mine.

I was both relieved and anxious when Cecil finally announced that we were drawing close to our destination. He pointed to the distant outline of low, flat, blackish land.

“That is the shore of The Dunes,” Cecil said wearily. “It’s nothing but dry desert… I really, really hope you know what you’re doing, Bastien.”

I wished that I could assure my old friend that I did, but of course, that would’ve been a lie.

All I knew was that this was what I had to do. Things had spiraled so out of control with my family—with my
mother
—that these were the lengths I was having to resort to.

I still didn’t even have an inkling as to how exactly I would request to be transformed—I needed to speak to a jinni, explain my situation and ask for their advice. I also had to hope that they weren’t too hostile toward strangers. Would they help a stranger—an intruder at that—on their land? Would they give him the time of day, even if he begged?

Only time would tell.

My transformation had to be drastic… though I hoped not too drastic that Victoria would stop loving me.

We seemed to cross the last stretch of ocean disproportionately fast, as though the universe sensed my nerves and sped me faster toward my fate.

As we arrived in shallow water, I expected a sweltering heat to hit me, even with the ocean breeze. But it was actually rather chilly, I supposed because it was night time, and I shivered involuntarily.

“The desert is a place of extremes,” Cecil explained, noting my reaction to the sudden change in temperature.

I informed Cecil that I would return as soon as I could. I also warned him in no uncertain terms that he must keep an eye on the Mortclaw downstairs—keep feeding her the mashed-up plant, even if he thought he might be overdoing it. If there was one thing I’d learned over the past week, it was that there was no underestimating the Mortclaws.

Leaping from the ship, I landed on the shore and hurried onto the black sand. I cast one final glance backward, waving at Cecil—who waved nervously back—before turning and running into the desert.

I was still a man. I considered turning into a werewolf, but since jinn also had the appearance of men and women, I decided to remain as I was. Perhaps it would make dealings easier with them.

I ran and ran, until the ocean was long out of sight. I traveled up and down steep dunes, gazing around at the desolate landscape and wondering where in this place I could find the jinn.

I began to shout out into the night. “Help! I need help! I have come seeking a jinni! Please, someone, reveal yourself!”

As I traveled, I found myself crossing a number of strange, eerie creatures that lurked in the dark. Lots of snakes, poisonous-looking beetles, and strange hopping creatures that I struggled to even describe. Two long legs. Thin arms that extended into flat, webbed hands. Their heads had bizarre frills attached to their sides. They looked somewhat like lizards and yet they were quite different. My shouting drew a pack of them close to me. They tried to launch at me while flailing horrifyingly long, white tongues, but I was able to outrun them and shake them off my trail.

I continued my venture throughout the night until finally, as the first signs of dawn lit up the horizon, my wish was granted.

A jinni manifested before me, a man with ebony skin, a broad chest, and a proud face. He looked down at me, quirking a brow.

“And who are you to roam the land of The Dunes?”

“Sir,” I said, bowing my head in respect. “My name is Bastien Blackhall.” I still found it difficult to use the name Mortclaw. “I am a werewolf. Excuse me for intruding on your land, but I have come to seek a favor.”

The jinni’s brows knotted as he looked me over. “You have come seeking a wish to be granted?”

“Yes,” I said, eyeing him warily. “You could put it like that.”

“What have you to offer in return?”

My heart lowered. Although I wasn’t naïve enough to think that all people were as charitable as those who lived in The Shade, I had held out a small hope that perhaps someone here might just do me a favor for a favor’s sake, without expecting something in return.

What could I offer such a creature in return? I had nothing. Nothing but my skin and bones.

I ran a tongue over my lower lip before replying tentatively, “What would you seek of me?”

“That will depend on what kind of service you wish to be rendered.” He glanced around the desert. “But let us not linger up here. Let us go somewhere more comfortable. You might be a stranger, but since you have ventured into Drizan territory, we will hear you out.”

Drizan? We? Territory? What territory?
All around me for as far as I could see was nothing but desert. Desert and dunes.

The jinni began to sweep across the sand, leading me onward, until I caught something glinting in the moonlight on the ground. A giant, golden medallion depicting a scorpion. As the jinni stooped down and opened it up, he revealed it to be a trap door. He gestured to me to step inside and follow him down a staircase.

“For now,” he said, his dark lips parting in a courteous smile, “be our guest.”

I
did not trust
this man. Not in the slightest. But I had come all this way to seek out a jinni, and I had finally found one. I was hardly going to back down now. I just had to pull through this, and hope that it would lead me somewhere better than where I had started.

“I will take you to see my king,” the jinni announced as he led me down into an entrance hall whose beauty had me gaping. Diamonds and gems shimmered in every corner. I had never even dreamed of such luxury.

As the jinni led me deeper into what appeared to be an underground palace, my mind only continued to be blown away by the sheer extravagance of the way these creatures lived. How had they even gathered such wealth in the first place?

We traveled down countless hallways, passing many other lavishly dressed jinn along the way—jinn who barely gave me a second glance—until we stopped outside a towering set of doors. The jinni, who had still not given me his name, led me inside a towering hall, where an ornate throne sat, elevated by a raised platform.

The jinni took me to a seat in one corner of the chamber and told me to wait. I sat, elbows on my knees, hands clasped together, until the jinni returned with a second jinni, who wore a dazzling crown.

“Hail King Turak, most worthy son of late Cyrus the Great.”

Turak, a man of similar skin tone to the first jinni, had dark eyes, a thick beard, and thicker hair. The strength in his body beneath his scant clothing hardly seemed real. His muscles bulged like they had been stuffed with something.

I bowed my head. “Your Majesty,” I said. “Forgive the intrusion.”

“My courtier tells me that you have come seeking a wish.”

“That’s right. I’m a werewolf now, but I need some way to…
change
what I am.” I explained in as much detail as I thought necessary to them about my family, and why it was so necessary for me to cut all ties with them in a way that was irreversible. In a way that would make them want to never have me back.

The king was quiet as he listened to me. When I finished, he laid a forefinger over his upper lip and gazed at me thoughtfully.

“I can think of a way we can fulfill your wish,” he said. “A way which, as you desire, would alter you permanently. But understand, werewolf, that if we were to grant this wish, you would be indebted to us.”

“What would you want from me?” I asked. “I’m willing to give anything that’s… reasonable.”
Reasonable
. What a subjective word that was. My mother thought that she was reasonable.

“I doubt you possess anything material that would hold our interest,” the king replied. “But we could accept payment in servitude instead. Keep you here in our palace for some time…”

“For how long?” I croaked. “And what exactly is your idea? How will you alter me?”

“As for how long, I believe that three months would be fair in exchange for our services,” the king replied.

Three months.
That sounded like an awful lot of time. But if the jinn were able to help me effectively, then it would be more than worth it.

“All right,” I said. “Now explain how you would alter me.”

The two men exchanged glances.

“Rather than talk, I think it’s best that we show you,” the king replied.

I
had never felt so
confident, so self-assured in my life. The tugging deep within me continued as though I was attached to an invisible rope. It felt like it was impossible for me to take a wrong turn, a misstep. It almost felt like I had already found Bastien. I wasn’t quite sure where such confidence was coming from, but I hoped that it was not unfounded—that I was not suffering from some form of delusion or post-concussive symptomology.

As I flew, I pictured Bastien in my mind more vividly than ever before. His beautiful, expressive face. His wintry gray eyes that seemed to bore into my very soul. I remembered the way my stomach flipped when he glanced at me. The way he held me. The way it felt to have his body pressed to mine, his arms engulfing my waist, keeping me safe. My being yearned for him the way fish yearned for water.

He had possessed me, mind and spirit. Now, I just had to let this intense attachment lead me to him. For once, dreaming of Bastien had some practical use and did not simply cause me frustration.

I sped over the waves, faster and faster, traveling for countless miles. I passed a number of landmasses along the way. Still, my instinct drove me onward. Onward, onward, until my skin began to tingle with excitement. Somehow, I simply
sensed
that I was getting closer. Much closer.

I caught sight of land up ahead of me. Land that looked like nothing but one colossal desert. As I hovered over it, it hit me where this must be. The land of the jinn.

For all the optimism that had been flowing through me at the thought of reuniting with Bastien, I couldn’t help but crash down from Cloud Nine and experience a moment of panic.

The Dunes. I recognized the land from all my family had told me about it.

What on earth is Bastien doing in The Dunes?

M
y family
and Orlando remained in the hospital room with me the whole time. My mother and Orlando stood closest to the bars of my cage, gazing through at me hopelessly. My need for blood was beginning to consume me. It was hard to even think straight anymore. I just needed that warm red liquid—or even cold liquid would do. Any blood to fill my dry, deprived veins.

I found myself writhing and screeching on the floor. The noises I was making horrified
me
more than anybody else.

As much as I appreciated everyone’s support, I was beginning to wish that they would evacuate the room, leave me without temptation. That might help to ease my frenzy, but there was no way I could communicate my wishes to them.

And so I continued to claw at the bars whenever somebody approached, even as the thirst burned me up inside. I feared I would soon no longer even see people around me, just fleshy sacks of blood.

My grandmother Nadia even put the television on, as though that might distract or soothe me somehow.

Although I stared at the screen at first, I could barely muster the concentration to watch it for more than a few seconds. My lack of attention was disturbing. As time passed, I was becoming like a child, more and more incapable of deep, prolonged thought on any subject other than my excessive thirst for blood.

More hours slipped away—witches and jinn moving in and out, as well as other inhabitants of The Shade who came to visit me. My friends, family and well-wishers.

At least, for the most part, humans were kept out of the room. Although Orlando was technically human, his blood was not quite as tempting because of his illness. It smelled slightly bitter, akin to a vampire’s.

I sank to the floor in desperate frustration and found myself rolling from side to side, compulsively, like a mental patient in an institute. It was the only thing I could bring myself to do.

I was brought out of my stupor only by a woman’s voice—which sounded like Shayla’s—uttering a familiar word. A word that meant a lot to me.

“Lawrence!”

Her voice came as such a strangled gasp that I couldn’t help but look in her direction. She was gazing up at the television screen, extending a trembling finger. I followed her gaze and managed to concentrate long enough to catch sight of an image flashing up on the screen.

The photograph of a young man was being shown—a young man who looked very much like Lawrence, even though I couldn’t see his face. Strapped to a chair by thick bonds, he sat in the middle of a small, stark white room. He didn’t look well at all. What I could see of his skin was pallid, and his head lolled strangely to one side over his chest. A vase of white lilies threaded with black ribbon stood at his feet. The type you might see at a funeral.

I managed to summon the concentration to focus on the words the newscaster was speaking after the photograph disappeared. “Viewers will remember the young man we showcased just a short while ago, the brave young man who participated in the IBSI’s most recent drug trial. It is with deep regret and sadness that we report he passed away in the early hours of the morning. As we reported, the procedure was still in early development and the IBSI has been sailing uncharted waters. Although the young man—who must remain unnamed for the privacy of his family—made a swift, miraculous recovery from the initial procedure and was showing drastic improvements. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen complications, he was admitted to the IBSI’s specialist hospital last night, where his heart failed and medics were unable to save him.”

“Oh, my God,” my mother breathed, her hand clasped to her mouth in horror.

“A private memorial service will be held for him by his family and closest friends. The IBSI has issued a statement expressing their deepest condolences to the heroic young man’s family, and have assured us that nobody else will be put on trial for the drug—not even willing volunteers—until it has been through at least a dozen more rounds of testing.”

The vision of Lawrence’s pale form slumped in a chair remained stamped in my mind, even as the news topic changed. I remained staring up at the screen. The news had struck me like a bolt of electricity, forced clarity to my fast fogging brain. And yet, although I absorbed the words and understood what they meant, my emotions had not yet caught up. They felt disjointed from my brain, almost. Lagging behind.

I felt numb inside. Like an explosive in freefall, just waiting to collide with the ground.

Lawrence… Dead.