Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (33 page)

“You are late,”
he glowered, trying to smother his response to her beneath layers
of disapproval.

The demon in
him met the magic in her and though the Herald had nearly escaped
the pitfalls of Vampire existence unscathed he entered the realm of
his demonic existence with a crash that caused his pale eyes to
glow. Zyre moved among the Vampires like a ray of sun in a gloomy
day and they stared at her brilliance with eyes awash with longing
for the warmth that had been stolen from their lives. Estienne
moved to grasp her elbow in possession, but she moved deftly within
the crowd until she had cornered her quarry. By the stricken look
upon his face Florian was not pleased to be the focus of Elf
attention just moments from the social event of the year. She
dragged the suffering Vampire back towards Estienne while keeping
her arm firmly entwined within his. The others, fearful of any
distraction from the Ball, obligingly kept a wide berth of the
strange couple. Zyre smiled at the Herald and sensing his inner
struggle she knew it would consume him enough to keep him from
objecting to her announcement.

“Florian can
drive me to the Ball.”

Florian offered
a litany of reasons to refuse her, the main being that it was
Vampire tradition for them to arrive via Zhismi chauffeur. This was
one time that Vampire Houses were allowed to display their wealth
in the vulgar, ostentatious form of those choosing to show off.

Her eyes melted
into teal and she kept Estienne firmly in her gaze as she stated,
“I drive with Florian and we arrive in time.”

Unable to
address his interior battle the Herald nodded before turning on his
heel to leave a flustered Florian giving Zyre a look resembling
hatred—had he been courageous enough to confront his magical
nemesis. The Elf showed no reaction to the reluctance of her
companion to transport her all over town. Zyre was not greatly
interested in the wishes of Florian because she knew the Vampires
would abandon her upon whim. In return she would use them in
whatever fashion she could to achieve her ends, which at that
moment were a complete mystery. Zyre knew this was the opportune
moment to abscond because none could stop her since the Martyc
would be occupied for a while with all this Nefarious. The memory
of the stink of the brothel caused a sharp unaccustomed stab and
wanting to remove him from her thoughts she removed clues to her
motives for remaining. She pulled the Vampire where she wanted to
go while she clung to the distraction of what she considered a good
idea.

Passions of
the Magical Being

Dominated by
their passions, controlled by their passions, surrendering to their
passions, unlike demons, the magical didn’t struggle against who
they were. They embraced it with a fervour that could only destroy
since the beings from this world were victims of a heritage of both
fascination and compulsion. Each creature had its own particular
failing, usually leading to a spectacular downfall and subsequent
disappearance to an alternate world until the furore died down. The
Pixie had a legendary love affair with gin, especially the precious
human juniper spirit. The Elf soared high from anything sweet, with
honey of any world their weakness. The cytelja of flowers
transported the bad tempered Gnome into a world of emotional
divination. Fairies loved water and often flew too low hypnotised
with the rainbow of colours within droplets often causing them to
crash. These were the unrestrained compulsions of beings that could
barely attend to daily life, much less employ the self-discipline
to avoid disaster.

Unlike the
demon Folly, which was a weakness that served to destroy the
affected the fascinations of the magical tended more to be the
basis for wayward magical behaviour. Pixies loved to gossip and did
it under the pretext of conversation. Gnomes loved to fight and did
it under the pretext of conversation. Fairies fluttered about the
forest leading weary travellers astray with their faint lights and
false calls. For the Elf emotion was the obsession and where there
was drama, fear, love, hate, the Elf was the unobserved observer.
Their inability to cope with direct interaction forced them to live
as a vicarious audience fascinated by the emotions of those around
them. The Elf who indulged in emotional attachment also left
herself vulnerable to the Despair and so avoided the bond of
passion for as long as possible. Attached to this passion was also
a great failing, one so rare it had barely been observed, yet all
within the magical community knew of the potential of Elves for
jealousy. The normally cheerful and inconsistent creature would
develop a frightening focus for the Elf that usually cared for
nothing was terrifying when centred. Those foolish enough to stand
between an Elf and the object of her interest could receive an
abrupt and brutal education that not all magic was composed of
rainbows and flowers. The jealousy of the Elf was not always a
romantic one as it could be concerning a place, person or
circumstance, but romantic jealousy was the Elf at her worst.
Unable to identify or control the new passion driving her, she
would succumb to dangerous and sometimes even foolish behaviour.
Luckily, the object of her interest tended to be a Martyc and
therefore was powerful enough to rescue her from her confusing, yet
to him endearing scrapes.

The varied
passions of the magical creatures kept them busy enough surviving
their own world, neither caring nor bothering with the outside
forces dwelling within the Reveal. Demons looked upon this
perpetual internal introspection with puzzled contempt as for them
the answer to their own interior battles was keeping an eye on the
external. The acceptance of their passions allowed the magical—the
least likely of survivors—to flourish amongst demons within the
Reveal.

**********

We must
conceive of this whole universe as one commonwealth of which both
gods and men are members.

Marcus Tullius
Cicero

It was the Oric
she wanted to see, they were the expected, uninvited, and ignored
eyes upon the Reveal. No one would bother with them because they
had become part of the scenery picking off the odd unclaimed Tyro,
but still protecting the Veil along the way. They would be the ones
to notice anything changing within the landscape, any sign of the
Nefarious, or the scourge. Zyre directed Florian to a small lane
only a few streets away from the Chambers. When he complained they
were nearly there and could park closer a flash from her eyes shut
him up.

“Stay here—tis
only a minute,” she told the petulant Vampire.

The Oric were a
discreet distance from the Chambers with the large roof of the
warehouse providing them ample room and cover. Their presence would
be impossible to hide from the Vampires, but as long as they
observed the pretence of distance then peace remained between them.
This time they were not led by the young Oric of before but the
older man she had seen when chasing the Tyro. His mature features
were greyed by time and as he walked with confident strides towards
the slight creature in a turquoise evening gown he betrayed no
surprise. His lack of outrage at her sudden appearance had her
consider that the Oric were becoming far too comfortable with
magical beings. She toyed with the idea of hanging them from
various points across the city—preferably high and public, but used
a rare discipline to return to the matter at hand.

“Which Oric are
you?” she asked as her voice lilted into the night.

“I am the Key,
leader and Knight of the Oricon,” he replied with solemn pride.

She didn’t know
how much Oric knew about anything but speaking to the leader was a
good thing, so she tried to keep it simple.

“There has been
Nefarious dealing with bandits. They might show themselves this
night of nights.”

The human Oric
couldn’t hide his appreciation of the beauty before him and she
watched the tinge of desire colour his aura. “We are well aware of
the threat of Taryst Janeb as we have been informed, but there has
been no sign of her on this world.”

Zyre considered
his certainty. “The Nefarious was pixilated and this be the only
truth you need know.”

The Oric shook
his head. “We have searched all and there is no sign of the
scourge. There is no evidence of Raiders on this world. Galt is
being protected by his kind and surveillance has revealed
nothing.”

Arguing with
beings unable to comprehend a basic truth was too bothersome and
she would have stayed, but something else caught her mind. She knew
purple was close, she also knew this being was doing less and less
to hide themselves and she would have investigated, except she had
more fun things to do. Purple could watch over stubborn Oric, so
she gave the human the benefit of her ruby smile and impart what
she considered words of wisdom.

“Pixilated tis
only truth.”

Unable to
convince the Oric of anything she dissolved back to the car and a
Florian desperate to leave drove as fast as the narrow street
permitted. A short drive later he had parked the car near the
Chambers while grumbling about the filth of the city staining his
shoes. He stopped for a moment as something on the roof caught his
attention, which caused Zyre to look up and she saw the strange
sight of Gargoyles guarding the building. Florian snorted and
though she might have agreed Zyre ignored the flow of his constant
complaints instead taking his arm as they approached the door. She
paid no heed to the path that suddenly cleared for them because an
Elf was used to the grace of her existence always giving her
entrance. She floated through the reception foyer and down the
stairs to another area where a large Aegai, in a uniform that could
only be described as ridiculous, read off the names of those about
to enter the vast Ballroom. Zyre remained unaffected at the
ostentatious luxury surrounding them and if asked wouldn’t be able
to describe the burgundy carpet or matching flock wallpaper of the
anteroom. Even the hushed whispers of awe and trepidation filling
the air about them didn’t reach past her conscious mind. She was
feeling for something particular—the stiff chill that would
accompany the presence of a Martyc and his entourage. Despite the
precarious situation of this event one thing Elves did love was a
party, so one where she could torment Dhaigre for annoying her was
an excellent proposition.

Once satisfied
Vryn had not yet arrived Zyre allowed herself the luxury of
relaxing. This meant giving Florian a brilliant smile that served
to disturb the Vampire into the belief that she was going to ruin
his night. The line moved up and as they waited for their
introduction the Aegai stopped his droning to gawk at the
unexpected warmth of a magical presence that sent the cool essence
of Vampires back into the shadows. Florian stepped forward and the
chiffon gown of the Elf left her floral scent floating upon air as
she glided into the lit Ballroom.

Their presence
electrified an already stimulated gathering and Zyre concentrated
on not allowing the thrilled emotions of the whispers to oppress
her. While others would be impressed by the beautiful marble floor
of the ballroom she felt the divisions of House as each sat in
groups with their own. The floor below filled with Vampires that
intermingled as they negotiated old and new alliances, leaving
snatches of emotion between encounters like obstacles she had to
manoeuvre while keeping her eye upon her objective. Florian tried
to pull her back toward the Veraign table where those seated
watched from beautifully structured platforms above the dance
floor. Except Zyre had seen something that caused her heart to
become leaden and she knew she could not stop her actions lest it
turned to stone. She was oblivious to the Zhismi orchestra at one
end, waiting for the introductions to cease, nor were the subtle
lights with their play of shadows upon the walls attracting her
attention. What she focused upon was the Vampire girl she had
helped earlier who was now sitting with her new Vampire family.
Cats were fey, Elves were magical, but sometimes the reverse was
true and Elves much to their despair became fey when the universe
allowed them to catch a glimpse of a future moment.

The girl was
speaking to the Aunsin and Herald seated at her table and while she
appeared protected by those surrounding her Zyre could see the
invisible chains of desolation forming from a table across from
theirs. The Daughters of Leleht, succubus of men, murderers of
their own kind were well known throughout the Reveal for their
despicable natures. They sat in a unified silence—sending their
dark thoughts in a mesmerizing glare towards the girl. In that
moment of observation Zyre saw an outcome hastened by the ignorant
pride of those surrounding her. Before she realised she was moving,
before she could stop herself, she started to pull Florian away
from his table and across the platform. For the second time that
night the actions of the Elf were foreign to her nature as she
considered the interests of another as well as her own. She managed
the duplicitous existence of ignoring the discomfort of Florian
while continuing her perilous journey into the emotional maelstrom
called friendship.

As she
approached the table she felt the focus of the Daughters hidden
behind their green veils as they tried to fill her mind with
insidious thoughts of despair. While they might be versed in Elf
weakness—they were not prepared for her strength. She turned her
head to give them the benefit of glittering sapphire eyes as she
transposed the Salvae from her fingertips into her mind. The veiled
ones retreated in disarray while they tried to collect their
thoughts from the aftermath of magical chaos—the one thing an Elf
understood to perfection. Continuing upon her journey she presented
herself with merry camaraderie to those from the House of Cardei
while a mortified Florian gurgled in distress.