Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (31 page)

“I have come to
visit the Xatn, so let me in,” she said with merry abandon.

The Varkja
looked at each other, but none moved to allow her entry. Her eyes
turned emerald and Beb relaxed while she enjoyed tormenting the
Varkja.

“Ahh—so I will
go and you can explain to him why.”

The Pixie was
familiar with the solid Varkja, the tough creatures that revealed
little of their thoughts. Though he could have dealt with them the
fear he might have to made him belch sending a stench of fermented
apple into their midst. The guards stood back as if it was poison
while one spoke into the intercom and seconds later they were
escorting the magical duo into the inner sanctum of Vryn Dhaigre.
Beb knew of the Xatn, though he hadn’t met one in person before,
and he looked around the stark yet elegantly furnished room with
curiosity. Zyre sat on the desk with amusement while watching the
discomfort of the Varkja who would never dare such audacity. The
Martyc strode in followed by his Druqe—the strange demon who knew
everything yet told nothing. Beb was not watching the prince of the
Empire, the most powerful being of several realms, because his
attention was riveted to the Elf. He could see what was not obvious
to the demons and the change fell like a shroud over her as she got
off the desk. The kaleidoscope of her eyes merging between green
and blue suddenly lost the emerald of amusement.

Beb focussed
upon the Xatn wondering why Zyre was not pleased because he looked
like the typical Martyc, tall, dark, imposing, with the usual
stupid demon self-importance. His Druqe was there behind him, a
pale shadow of nothing blending into the background and the Varkja
had not moved, so what bothered her? Beb tested the air and the
only thing he could find was the smell coming from the Martyc—the
perfume of one who had lain with a woman. It was a part of life
this scent. So why had it changed Zyre because the scent of a human
woman was not offensive—just obvious. Like the fart from a Fhreh or
a belch from a Pixie. He looked at his friend and realised that
this world had not changed her—the Martyc had! Because somehow what
Dhaigre did now mattered to the Elf.

The Expectant
Universe

In the distant
past the demon universe was a maelstrom of uncontrolled reaction to
hostility of either internal or external origin. Demons battled
their environment, battled themselves, and battled others until
their evolution led them down a path of lesser destruction.
Preoccupied with maintaining the thin veneer of control over their
wayward passions demons never entertained the option they could be
something else than what their natures dictated. They remained
captive of the qualities they tended to express to the exterior
world leaving them open to being categorized. While the higher
caste demons managed to elevate themselves into a position where
they could disguise their base motives, stress would cause even
them to return to behaviour considered typical of their
species.

Even then not
all demons were volatile, not all possessed evil genius nor strove
to destroy all in their path for even demons had their own
stereotypes. While there were those who thrived upon creating chaos
in the worlds around them, there were also those who struggled to
survive in their ever-changing universe. Unfortunately, the demons
that first came through the Reveal into the human realm were
aggressive beings that considered the terrified creatures they
encountered fair game. They discovered a species that was not
physically intimidating, but what humans lacked in strength they
more than made up in their ingenuity. They soon pursued these
dragons, monsters, or beasts from hell, whatever they named them,
with the same blood lust shown in the pursuit of them. The visitors
learned that humans were a quick study and capable of an evil as
horrifying as their demon counterpart.

Demons, even
the most passive ones, didn’t suffer from apathy as they found
themselves driven by obsession. It was the nature of the demon soul
to chase their desires to the point of destruction. They weren’t a
creature capable of balance and the more violent the demon the more
explosive the result as few had the strength of will to endure
their failings. Those driven to violent solutions often wound up in
the Chambers for the Aegai, while not possessing an intellect
capable of defeating a superior demon, were well-equipped by an
organised and formidable society. Powerful demons such as the
Martyc left the Ghuvk to determine the fate of their prisoners as
it saved them the trouble of negotiating the return or demise of
the annoyances.

Despite their
driven obsessions demons often had empathy for their ilk as who
else could understand that destroying what stood in their way was
efficiency and not pointless violence. The demon mind understood
the virtue of murder, the necessity of theft, the practicality of
assassination, and the inevitability of torture. Those who employed
such methods to achieve their goals were simply making logical
choices to the demon world. Even those demons who no longer
practiced a brutal means to an end understood why their kind often
took this route because the demon universe was one of less
negotiation and more one of devastation. Though some demons were
not overly destructive their empathy kept them aloof from judging
the atrocities of their kind. While some demons were not
demonic—they would never be angelic either.

A demon could
suffer the pangs of sympathy because they had the ability to
understand the frustration of a coup failing despite tremendous
blood loss, the fury of having a victim snatched out from within
their grasp, the sorrow of an empty theft, a pointless betrayal, or
mistaken murder. The demon struggled to contain an explosive evil
in a universe moving to a silent evil and the battle spilled over
into every world they occupied. While some found their niche and
were successful in containing the base elements of their natures
others found what had them once be kings now left them selling
their brutality in a bloody but shrinking marketplace. As much
sympathy as the demon might have for those in his boat he was not
above rocking it for his own advancement—even if it meant they all
drowned in the end.

Labelling other
demons by their actions was at first a useful tool because it
helped differentiate between those safe to associate with and those
of dangerous reputation. As the interchange between their worlds
increased, so did the expectations of those who participated within
the exchange. Demons became known for certain cultural traits and
soon a collective acceptance of these stereotypes developed across
their universe. Burdened by interior constraints while ignorant of
their choices, the external typecasting of others soon became
internal as their own cultures embraced the traits accorded to
them.

Demons once
perceived as angry by those around them soon became angry demons as
their own society deemed it their nature. The Martyc were taught to
be controlled bankers, Varkja unemotional soldiers, and Druqe
composed assistants for their own worlds accepted this as their
personal truth. Demons lost their individual choices and instructed
from conception of the expectations of their kind they soon
discovered that deviation, individuality, or change was not
accepted. Prisoner of their own development the demon gained the
ability to traverse the Reveal and lost the opportunity to
determine their own destiny.

Alert to any
opportunity to exploit demons didn’t ignore this one and they used
self knowledge to anticipate and control their populace because a
template could be a useful aid. Unable to progress without
dangerous upheaval demons watched even the mutant Vampire live
without the confines of an unyielding expectation that coerced
uniformity of spirit. While those higher of caste might possess the
intellect to comprehend the restraints their worlds imposed upon
their people, they were too preoccupied with surviving the internal
onslaught of a nature at war with itself to instigate change. Not
all demons were demonic, but all demons understood the concept of a
personal hell.

Children of an
expectant universe they took their beliefs beyond the Reveal only
to cement their future role in the expectations of those they
encountered. While demons would never be true to themselves they
would always honour the labels applied to them. Therefore, those
watching would know that a Martyc was a banker, the Varkja a
soldier, the Druqe an assistant because that was the content of the
universe of demon composition and chance had nothing to do with
it.

**********

Jealousy and
love are sisters.

Russian
Proverb

The seconds
between entering the office and the arrival of the Martyc stretched
out while time became elastic for an Elf about to make a decision.
Zyre never fretted about outcome, live or die, fail or success, it
was just the turn of fate for her. This time the universe tugged
and pulled made her notice, wonder about others beyond herself
until only the decision to stay was left. She watched the Martyc
and Druqe enter without any greetings and since she came with a
specific task in mind she attempted to keep her focus there.

Instead, she
was rudely distracted by the atmosphere that clung to them—like the
grease of smog to a clean window. She could smell the scent of sex
on him because she was not a complete fool and the human woman
clung to his aura—the itch he scratched while she was busy saving
the world. What did disconcert her was the white flash of anger
choking her, but she had no reference to identify it. She only knew
that she wanted to slap his face at that moment. Not once had she
viewed Vryn as a male who would address his needs without bothering
about her thoughts as he was just a large ignorant demon that
happened to be in her way an awful lot. The reality that he existed
beyond the boundary of her opinions and worse still that his
actions had meaning in her life was a rough lesson for a free
spirit. Ignoring the burning new emotion and the Martyc, she
instead addressed the Druqe while the teal of her eyes warned of
the importance of this meeting.

“Beb needs more
gin right now.”

The marble of
his mauve eyes flashed to the Xatn who nodded briefly and the Druqe
went to the back of the office to fulfil the strange order. Zyre
could feel the discomfort of the Pixie who was attempting to lean
nonchalantly against a wall, but who, in fact was slowly sliding
down it. She met the dark eyes of the Martyc and the room filled
with the mire of raw emotions neither could openly admit with the
nervous hiccup of Beb the only sound. Dhaigre was not melting into
his usual desire. Instead, his black eyes became hard coals as he
closed into himself and the Elf found herself crackling the way
Salvae did from her fingertips.

Blinkity
bother, always so demon, full of stupid and selfish!

The anger of
her thoughts had the teal of her eyes darken as unwanted feelings
jabbed her for attention. She and Beb had been running all over
town chasing information, betrayals, the scourge, and here he
wandered in stinking of whores. She folded her arms, tilting her
head as if viewing something disgusting and the scorn in her face
made the dark demon become even darker as anger creased his mouth.
Keeping out of the way the Druqe cautiously handed the Pixie the
bottle he had removed from a cabinet. Beb hiccupped roughly before
giving the disdainful demon an apple core in return.

“You seem to
make a habit of invading the offices of the Empire.”

Zyre usually
ignored formal rhetoric, but cut by his arrogance her anger was
something she didn’t control.

“You make a
habit of never being home—too busy playing?”

The sarcasm in
her voice surprised the Pixie who started to flutter in alarm and
the Druqe moved back slightly because the safest place around
magical was usually in the next room. Vryn stared at her closely
for a few seconds before relaxing as if something had been
explained and a confused Zyre saw his mouth twitch. He looked down
at the papers on his desk while acting too busy to deal with his
unexpected guests.

“If I had known
you were coming I would have had my Druqe make an appointment.”

The conceit of
the demon suggesting she beg for his time had Zyre snap her
fingers, causing the Salvae to spark and the Druqe to back away
even further. Beb wasn't the greatest conversationalist, but even
he understood enough to recognise the danger in attempting to shift
the balance of power with an Elf.

He belched and
shouted at the same time while filling the air with the haze of gin
and apple. “Scourge!”

Dhaigre looked
up sharply and distracted by Beb sliding down the wall Zyre filled
in the blanks.

“Beb pixilated
the Nefarious One at the Centre.”

Vryn gave his
Druqe a questioning look—waiting for explanation and Afir
responded. “A type of mesmerise used to gain knowledge.”

The Martyc
stared at the Elf. “Why would he do this? I have already spoken to
the Goblin.”

Zyre moved
forward and despite his self-control the eyes of the demon filled
with golden droplets of desire. The Elf wasn’t concerned with the
libido of what she considered a whoring demon, later on he could do
whatever he liked with all the women of the Reveal. Right now he
needed to focus upon the myriad of problems uncovered by the Pixie.
She tried to explain a reality she had trouble of expressing to
herself.

“What Goblin
tells you tis not the truth of the pixilation, that be the only
truth and there were too many to account.”

Dhaigre moved a
fraction as she continued an explanation convoluted by an
undisciplined focus. “Then there was the one almost Aunsin.”