Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (22 page)

For centuries
the Aegai cleaned the streets of Tyros, the fledgling Vampire
without a house, Devs—those Vampires who would break Vampire law,
and the few demons or humans who would transgress against the
Vampire world. The Aegai collected the creature of interest and
brought them to the Chambers where they remained in cells until
judgement of their case. The downfall of employing dim servants was
that you got what you paid for and the Aegai were outwitted as
often as they were successful.

Rules set by
the Ghuvk determined if a lost Tyro was to be returned home, bound
by the Accord, or destroyed if not sanctioned. Demons who
transgressed discovered themselves forced to return to their home
world—unless they were repeat offenders. Then they faced either
death or if someone cared a negotiation with their home world for
restitution. Humans were frightened into silence, destroyed, or
placed in an accommodating mental institution. For who really
believed in Vampires? In a world of perilous alliances, secrets,
and preternatural creatures, it was the dim but loyal Aegai who
were the perfect servants for their shadowy masters.

**********

Evil draws men
together.

Aristotle

The peaceful
lull of the afternoon was broken by the grumblings below and Zyre
knew that her adventures in Martyc baiting were unlikely to have
gone unnoticed. If Florian didn’t go running to Estienne and pour
out his outrage, then an irritated communiqué from several cranky
demons was bound to get his attention. Elves eavesdrop not by
listening at doors, but by reading the house and a well-placed hand
upon a pane of glass would echo all conversations from every room.
Her only struggle was to concentrate upon the task for there were
so many delicious intrigues and betrayals to entice her along the
way. The strong undercurrent, a mixture of anger and frustration,
overrode all else and Zyre knew this dialogue was Estienne. The
Herald’s voice showed signs of strain as he queried the Zhismi in
the room.

“You are
certain it was the demon Afir who asked about the Elf’s dress?”

The calm of the
human puzzled her and she surmised he must have thought the
protection of Vampires to be enough of a barrier to the envoys of
the Empire.

“The demon
wanted to ensure her attire was worthy of one of her position. He
asked to see it.”

“Her
position!”

Estienne
struggled between his new demonic rage and his past Vampiric
caution. “So the Martyc thinks the House of Veraign dresses in
rags!”

The Zhismi
hurried from the room as the Vampire shouted to whoever was within
earshot, “Get me the Elf!”

The Elf in
question considered her options—she could enjoy the delicious
opportunity to annoy an already furious Vampire and abscond for the
day. She could present herself immediately in the spirit of
inter-realm cooperation, which even on a good day was a highly
unlikely scenario. Or she could let them eventually find her as she
didn’t feel the importance of getting all in a tizzy over demonic
discourtesy. Demons were always rude—it was a fact of life—like
water was wet. In addition, she had in a very magical fashion
already addressed the issue.

She dissolved
into the kitchen and established herself comfortably under the
central table while the Zhismi world buzzed above her. The large
wooden surface used for food preparation was heavily laden as the
busy women rushed about creating a meal that the Vampires would
only sample. She saw Vampires eat, but knew it was more for show
than sustenance as if it kept them anchored in the human world.

The Zhismi
hadn’t registered the magical presence gracing them, but the
inquisitive eyes of the child found his playmate with ease. Without
a word he climbed in beside her and together they observed the flow
of life in the kitchen.

The delighted
duo once in possession of a bowl of strawberries made their way
into the garden and shared their bounty under the protective canopy
of a tree. The insolent swish of a tail alerted them to their
disdainful guest as the resident cat came over to sniff what made
Elves and young boys sit in contented silence. Their peace was
broken by a call for bed and the boy gave his companion the grin
reserved for all things magical—be it Elf or the arrogance of a
yard cat.

The disgruntled
mumblings of the Vampires within had not escaped her, and she
watched with detached amusement as a household of preternatural
discontents searched for their miscreant. Zyre decided to be
present when she was ready to face the annoying babble of Vampires
trying to assert control in a world they had never ruled. It was
almost an hour later when she wandered into Estienne’s office and
the Vampire clinging desperately to his self-control made no
response to her entrance. She wondered if his ignoring her was an
attempt to impose sanction, but since the air rang with his
unacknowledged desires she thought it pointless. To disregard an
Elf who had ever so politely made herself available was not the
measure of a one with a clear head. To ignore an Elf who was
struggling with the most powerful demon from the Reveal was plain
foolish.

His eyes were
luminous with an internal passion and while the Vampire struggled
with the fires within the Elf couldn’t help but aggravate the
situation. Elves for all their joie de vivre believed—as most from
the Reveal—in the superiority of their being. Those foolish enough
to be discourteous to their enchanted visitor would receive a
fierce reminder to appreciate this belief as well. Zyre knew that
to click her fingers and spark with Salvae would trigger a useless
power struggle for despite his inability to dominate an Elf he was
a being used to command. Instead, she kept her gaze upon him
staring steadily at the top of his head while he read the papers on
his desk. The longer she stared the denser the air became until she
could almost feel his caress upon her skin.

Beside him sat
a goblet of a wine/blood mixture, a favourite amongst Vampires, and
as he read he reached for the goblet only to discover it was askew
from the memory of his hand. Each time he returned to the position
where he left the goblet it was somewhere else, a fingernail,
hair’s breadth, a mere touch away from its last location. The
ability to move objects was not one Zyre had mastered very well and
could never do it more than a fraction, but sometimes that was all
that was needed. The frustration of having to chase his goblet all
over the desk finally broke through to his consciousness and as he
gave her baleful glare as the knowledge of her abilities became a
shadow crossing his face.

Silver blue
eyes met the tempest of teal; the slight nod of his head was the
only indication that the Vampire understood the foolishness of
slighting a creature that had him outclassed in more ways than he
could understand. He put down the papers finally addressing the
being that was at that moment the bane and the pleasure of his
existence.

“You invaded a
Martyc building—.”

Not willing to
be maligned she interrupted, “—I visited a Martyc building, after
all I had been invited, many times.”

Though not a
blatant lie, it was a bit of a fib. While Dhaigre would have
welcomed her presence he had not yet extended a formal invitation
for her to attend him.

Estienne
continued as if she had not spoken. “You not only invaded a Martyc
building, but you took along a Vampire to do it. You trespassed in
the building of the very demon you wished to be protected from, so
what was the point in aggravating his staff?”

She moved over
to sit on the edge of his desk and had she bothered to look beyond
herself she might have seen the battle he fought to control his
yearning.

“He sent a
demon to handle my dress, he sent his to invade yours and touch
things that be not demon to touch. Unless Vampires allow the Xatn
to interfere whenever he likes?”

Her hair fell
across her shoulders like a forgotten sunset, her lips were crushed
strawberries, and the rich cream of her skin reminded him more of
what he had lost than gained in his immortal life. For this magical
being of surprising outbursts would have walked past the power,
prestige, and passion of his life for the simple warmth of
humanity.

The edges of a
rage, limited not just to the demonic foray into the Zhismi
warehouse, slipped through into his eyes. She knew that while Afir
was trying to coat his discourtesy with Martyc interest the demon
had overstepped a well established boundary. In a vain attempt to
conceal his desire, ire, and lost dreams, Estienne returned to
shuffling the papers on his desk.

“Bringing a
Vampire into your mischief is the fastest way to ensure demon
attention and if the Xatn decides this was an affront we could not
refuse a demand to hand you over. The protection of Veraign can
only go as far as there is respect for Vampire affairs and the
House will protect its own above all else.”

The Elf gave
the Vampire the deceptive grin that suggested she was at peace with
the universe.

“Ah—so the
House of Veraign fears the servants of the Empire—lets servants
insult then make demands?”

The Herald was
not going to be baited by either her smile or comment. “The servant
of the Empire will answer for his insult. And please leave Florian
out of any future excursions as he has enough trouble coping with
the thought of demons much less impromptu visits to them.”

Zyre made no
promises because there was no point as her capricious heart would
break them anytime it suited. Her warm beam of a smile, like the
sun he so rarely saw, caressed him until his eyes flooded with
silver lights. The discomfort from his uncontrolled reaction amused
her until she saw the naked want in his eyes and departed before he
had time to cross the distance between them. Even Zyre could see
that some games were too dangerous to play and left him to contend
with both demons and a desire he could never fulfil.

She couldn’t
allow the tattling of Florian to go unpunished and she wanted to
find him for some well deserved torment, but another idea had taken
hold of her. She had learned about the whereabouts of the girl from
Florian and believed that the Tyro could offer information about
the one who Unveiled her. There was something tickling the back of
her mind about this—something she needed to know—something that
affected this world. This was an adventure she needed to do without
the judgement of watching eyes. The next day when she awoke and
after a hearty breakfast of fruit she meant to leave, but became
side tracked watching the cat chase butterflies. Finding her
pockets stuffed with fruit reminded her that she was going to go
visiting, so she dissolved into the garden of the mansion next
door.

While the
street contained several of large mansions with vast gardens and
huge protective walls they were not all Vampire owned. She didn’t
understand why the Vampires didn’t live in together in an enclave,
but she had little experience of the possessive nature humans had
of their own world. Safety, something that was not always of Elf
concern, was of great import to the scattered and wary Vampires.
She sat in the garden observing those within realising they were
like the Zhismi, people working for another, and she waited for an
opportune moment before reappearing inside.

She was hoping
to discover a way to get to the House of Cardei, except the problem
was that not only didn’t she know where it was, but also she
couldn’t risk using her energy to wander about an unsuspecting
populace. If she had been a reflective being, she might have
considered the foolishness of exposing herself to the watchful eyes
of the Xatn but as usual—mischief won over prudence.

Compared to
Veraign this house was a stark, alienating box decorated with
modern gadgets, chrome, and glass. It was so devoid of character it
seemed as if the caretakers had scrubbed the personality off each
object. The rooms were gigantic, yet contained no occupants making
her wonder why such space was required for besides the cleaners
there were few remnants of life coating the atmosphere. Keeping out
of sight of those who tended the needs of this invisible owner she
entered a vast study mirroring the style of the rest of the house.
Seeing a talky—the demon term for phone—on the desk she decided to
do as Afir had and get transport. The carriage had taken her for a
bumpy but fun ride to the florist, so perhaps she could use it to
get to Cardei. Lifting the receiver from the base she heard the
dial tone and as she had seen earlier spoke into it.

“I wish a car
to Cardei.” She knew the carriages were called cars because she
learned that from her jaunt with Florian.

Nothing
happened and in frustration, she repeated her request to the dial
tone. Then she remembered seeing others pressing buttons.

She punched in
a random selection and once hearing a voice she demanded, “I need a
driver to Cardei.”

“What? What?”
asked the disembodied voice at the other end. “Who is this?”

Zyre shouted
into the mouthpiece. “I want a car—bring me to Cardei.”

“This isn’t a
taxi service idiot,” the voice replied.

She banged the
phone on the desk in emphasis and the noise caused the staff to run
hurriedly into the now empty office. Zyre reappeared inside the
kitchen and seeing the door to the large walk in pantry open she
entered to forage. Since she couldn’t find transport she was going
to have to this the difficult way and finding a package of
chocolate biscuits relocated back into the garden. While fruit was
an excellent source of fuel for dissolving the lure of chocolate
was irresistible. She ate half the package under the delicate
canopy of a young tree and the sunlight dappled through the leaves
as she sat thinking in the undergrowth. She required an address,
which was something the humans couldn’t give her, so she needed
someone who knew Vampire business. Her choices were Varkja, Poqir,
Vampire, Druqe, Fhreh, Aegai—her mind glinted at the thought of the
lumbering giant servants of the Vampire nation. Now an Aegai would
be easy to find, even easier to trick, but the problem was getting
to them. She felt in her pocket for a shalur because the gem was
her bargaining point since it would entice even a Martyc to take
notice. It was going to be a long dissolve to get back to the
Chambers, so she wandered about until she found an exit to another
street. This was the back lane between the large homes where
garbage bins lined the street and secret doors to utility areas
allowed in those who tended to needs of the household.