Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (26 page)

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It is wiser to
find out than suppose.

Mark Twain

Zyre was
relaxing in the garden when excited utterances peppered throughout
the house caused her to sit up.

“What I need,”
she said to the sour glare of the cat, “is a Pixie—there be far too
many Martycs about.”

The sound of a
large van grinding up the drive caused the intonations of the
voices to rise, and she pushed the disgruntled cat to one side.
Their reverie had been disturbed by insistent demands made with
voices shrill with excitement. Zyre knew of the expectant universe,
how it tied demons to cultural stereotypes because it was how she
anticipated reactions of the Reveal. Vampires were still attached
to their human responses, which made them unknown territory and
therefore more fun to watch than demons. The taut edge of their
hysteria scrambled through commands barked at scurrying Zhismi
attempting to tend to every demand. If this was how Vampires
prepared themselves for the Ball each year she wondered why the
gypsies didn’t bolt for the hills. She twisted and saw the truck at
the delivery entrance while a Zhismi examined a docket with puzzled
confusion. The driver opened the door to reveal pallets stacked
with colourful boxes gleaming in the last of the fading sun. Zyre
didn’t have to wander over to examine the new arrivals as she was
well aware of what Bubla Magic Bubbles—A Rainbow in Every Drop
looked like because she had sent three pallets to Vryn Dhaigre
using the help of a Zhismi youth and the wonderful card belonging
to Florian Ribeni.

Elves might be
magical, but cats were fey and her feline companion twitched her
tail in annoyance at the noise of Vampires before turning to face
the kitchen door in expectation. As if privy to a mystical
invitation the young boy came running out into the dusky garden
unafraid of what might go bump in the night, because he already
knew. He carried his usual fruit offering and took the suffering
cat in an iron grip while he poured devotions of a sticky child
nature upon her. Despite the Elf’s determination to keep away from
emotional entanglement the deluge of Vampire anticipation invaded
every corner of the house. This made the garden her refuge from
their relentless superficial interactions. There were so many
things to think about—none of which she wanted to—so she instead
enjoyed the notion of seeking out Florian to watch his face once he
discovered her use of his card. She could resume fondling the
evening clothes he guarded with jealous determination or dissolve
him out of reach of the Ball. Before she had decided the direction
of her mischief she remembered the intention of Martyc to attend
the Ball. Trust the demon to ruin the most fun she could have had
since absconding to this world, well that and the joy of delicious
chocolate.

“Not just any
Pixie, no no no,” she explained to them both. “This be a right
special one with the Pixie-ness about. He needs to pixilate a few,
there be Martyc here, Poqir there, and the Nefarious. Where now is
the Pixie that we need?”

The boy looked
about the garden as if one was lurking behind the droop of the
blooms. The Elf smiled at the discovery of the human world she
enjoyed the most—the innocence of a child. She snapped her fingers
lightly allowing the Salvae to sparkle like miniature fireworks and
the child clapped his hands with glee at the entertainment. Zyre
had been a prisoner of thinking, having never been a greatly
reflective creature her reaction to intrigue was to abscond while
leaving the plots of others—to others. Caught between Vampires, the
Martyc, a Goblin on world and now something elusive, she found
herself struggling with unwanted information. It was not her nature
to warn or care for others as this was dangerous territory for an
Elf not ready for emotional attachment. Caught between the schemes
of so many players she decided to neutralise at least one of them,
even if it was only a temporary measure. It wasn't that she was
concerned what he might do, but because with Goblins it was best
not to leave it to chance.

Within the
magical world each being had unique talents of their own and there
was little jealousy among them because they were well aware that
each talent also came with its own particular burden. One talent
that everyone secretly would have liked was an ability held only by
the one unable to utilise it for good measure because Pixies were
rarely sober enough to plan much less follow through on
anything.

Pixies could
pixilate. It was a strange and amazing capacity, the ability to
mesmerise without using force or intoxicants to obtain information
and sometimes influence behaviour. Those under the influence of a
pixilation would appear drunk and then reveal their innermost
thoughts to the waiting ears of the one who caused their state. The
problem with pixilation was that the Pixie had to be sober to
employ it, had to be able to focus long enough for it to take
effect, and worst of all be in close proximity of the one they
wished to read. Zyre was counting on his addiction to gin to be
enough of a bribe to lure Beb back into the human realm. She knew
the only way she could get a message back through the Reveal would
be through an intermediary and the only one who would be willing to
risk the wrath of the local Martyc would be a Fhreh. Fhreh demons
were hired to deal with low-level administrative tasks and were
favourites among Vampires as they were uninterested by bribes. The
only way she could entice the Fhreh to get a message to a Pixie was
to invite their passion. Prestige was what governed the Fhreh heart
and not just the ordinary prestige of wealth, power or beauty. It
was the prestige of achieving what would appear to be an impossible
challenge. She decided against tracking down Florian since he was
probably trying to explain three pallets of bubbles sent to the
most powerful demon within the Reveal. Taking the hand of the boy
she walked him back to the Zhismi kitchen and motioned to one of
the youths who happily dropped the bucket he was carrying to await
instructions from the enticing magical creature.

Intercepting
them on their way to the garage Estienne attempted to get her
continued presence by mentioning the unforeseen delivery.

“Florian is not
happy about his unexpected gift to the Martyc. You realise the
terrible position you put him into?”

Zyre grinned
because they both knew Dhaigre would have been instantly aware of
who sent him the bubbles. “Can’t stay and chat—got to go
places.”

He tried to
retain use of the car, his silver eyes gleaming objections while
the air about him filled with desperation. She could feel his
jealousy cascading at the mention of Dhaigre.

“We need all
the cars as transport for Vampires returning to attend the
Ball.”

Even as the
words came out of his mouth she could see his face register
acceptance of the futility in attempting to gain something he could
never have. Zyre assured him that she would return it in time
leaving the affected Vampire with her dazzling smile and the smell
of flowers lingering in the air.

She wisely kept
her energy by not dissolving into the city—acutely aware that she
might need it for defence or a fast escape. She told the driver to
take her to the Centre and he immediately knew where she meant
while he drove swiftly to her destination. When they moved past the
doorway guarded by the Verkja she instructed him to park several
streets over to wait for her return. The driver was used to
Vampiric instructions that had no explanation and nodded in
agreement. She exited the car dissolving to the roof across from
the local haunt of those from the Reveal.

The place was
rife with demonic visitors for though none would be welcome at the
Ball, gossip was still gossip, and speculation about Vampire
business echoed through the walls. She wasn’t there to enjoy the
Centre because she didn’t want a demon, but she had learned that
where demons grouped the human watchers were never too far behind.
She silently appeared beside an air vent and waited for the
inevitable Oric to discover her presence. They were in their usual
positions marking demonic activity and she wondered when they would
realise that this had been their true reality since the dawn of
time. Their young leader recognised the floral scent that had no
business being upon the air, so turned to discover his nemesis—the
perpetual mischief of an unrepentant Elf. Zyre greeted her rooftop
companions with camaraderie that set the Oric’s teeth on edge. He
ran his fingers through his mousy hair in frustration because it
was one thing to put up with magical presence and another to be
deemed her new best friend.

“Hey hey,” her
merry greeting didn’t reflect the serious intent of her task. “A
Fhreh is what I need to send a message—only Fhreh can do.”

The leader of
the group choked at her assumption they were going act as her
servants while his subordinates glanced at each other with nervous
dismay. Zyre narrowed her eyes at the hostile reaction to her
presence and she nearly left her cheerful stance since the Oric
seemed to be very slow at learning about magical capacity. She
dissolved behind the group and tapped one on his shoulder in
curiosity. Surely, they didn’t believe they could deal with her
with their funny weapons because they would be lucky to get a Tyro
with those! The Oric swirled about as his hand drew the hilt from
the scabbard, but Zyre, her point made, had already returned to
stand beside the leader. The leader folded his arms while giving
her the standard glare of his kind and she returned his glare with
a smile that any demon would recognise as a warning to tread
carefully.

“Dear Oric,”
she started with friendly grace. “Dear, dear Oric, I do not wish
for you to colour the ground below red with your interiors. We can
be friends—surely friends if you do what I want. It is Fhreh, right
now. Fhreh, Fhreh.”

The young
fellow she had tapped on the shoulder stepped up to show a bravado
that evaded a superior growing wise to the ways of the Elf. “If you
are so powerful, why don’t you get one for yourself?”

Her eyes melted
into a storm of teal and Zyre realised that these beings still
clung to primitive roots that made them a psychological kin to the
demonic creatures they hated. As with demons she would be forced to
display her power in terms they would comprehend, so they would
understand that her pleasant request was in essence a demand. She
didn’t want to employ the Salvae at that moment because it was
noisy and used too much energy. She had other tricks she could draw
from and chose something that ensured the blockheads got the
message. She dissolved beside the brash young Oric and removed his
short sword from the scabbard before he could react to her theft.
Zyre had not had any Eidex fun for a long while, so the prospect of
enjoying a battle with an unsuspecting opponent amused her enough
to send her eyes back into a mischievous green. She faced their
leader and her ruby lips curved in a delicious smile. So charming
was her appearance that he nearly forgot to defend himself from the
swiping blow that swished a hair’s breadth short of his head. Zyre
had no real intention to harm the humans who were wasting precious
minutes with their arrogance, but she needed to send a message that
even they could grasp. There was also the added enjoyment of
removing hubris—something Elves relished with magical delight.

The
well-trained Oric removed his blade quickly and went straight into
the offense while matching the Elf’s affront. She stepped back and
allowed him to take the lead as she mimicked his swordplay and it
didn’t take him long to realise there would be no resolution to
this encounter. Moving back he eyed his opponent with frustrated
ire while Zyre smiled at him as her face glowed with amusement. The
others eyed his pause with trepidation and placed their hands on
the hilts of their weapons, but their leader waved them down. She
returned the sword to the young Oric, who had learned one of the
most valuable lessons of his world—never obstruct an Elf with an
idea.

“Find me Fhreh
and tell him of a challenge—one not being achieved.”

“What if he
won’t come?” the impatient young man blurted out.

The Oric leader
hushed him. “Fhreh always accept the challenge.”

Zyre gave them
the benefit of her ruby smile before dissolving; leaving the young
men torn between urges to either kiss or kill the magical diva. She
reappeared in the front seat of the car with an appropriated box of
chocolates larger than her lap could occupy. The Elf pushed the box
between her and the driver while balancing it precariously upon the
console as she proceeded to squeeze each one to test the fillings.
The Zhismi driver took one look at the proffered offering of
squished chocolates and declined sharing leaving her to enjoy the
fruits of her misdeed while they waited in the deepening twilight.
The driver glanced at the clock and started to fidget in alarm,
then turned to discover an empty space beside him. Zyre was back on
the roof and if the Oric wondered how she had known they had
returned—more importantly returned with a Fhreh demon in tow—she
was not about to disclose the inner workings of the magical
being.

Zyre eyed the
darkening sky and decided that it would be too much trouble to get
the scrappy Oric to leave their post, so she offered her arm to the
Fhreh.

“Some
chat?”

The Fhreh
accepted without a second glance since he knew that the Elf was not
one to be fearful of unless you had reached out to harm her first.
The intrigue of a challenge, especially one she considered
unachievable, was enough to place him into risk taking mode. Zyre
dissolved them to an adjacent roof, which was out of view of the
Oric but where she could keep sight of the car. She leaned against
some structure she had no name for and proceeded to explain her
need to the demon while his animated face showed his intrigue had
been piqued.