Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (4 page)

A thoroughly
puzzled Zyre searched her limited Vampire knowledge trying to
understand the terror of the Tyro. She already knew the older a
Vampire became the more demonic was their appearance and response.
It was the recently Unveiled–the Tyro—those recently turned into
Vampires that intrigued her. Caught between their human past and
demon future she believed these would be the most fun ones to
watch. The erratic wandering of the girl found her attention
because her confused fear had been something Zyre could taste upon
the air. The Elf left the cursing men behind and she watched the
Tyro move against the flow of the commuters. The glow of her dark
hair bobbed under streetlights as the young Vampire negotiated the
traffic, her small body sometimes dwarfed by the tall men striding
against her. This Vampire was different for not only was she
unaware of her new incarnation, but the power of her blood upon the
atmosphere stung of Old World—the rarest of Vampire bloodlines.
Zyre knew of Vampire bloodlines known as Houses since the Reveal
echoed with the Ancients who wandered there after their
transformation into something more demon than human.

A fascinated
Zyre allowed her guard to drop, so she was unaware of another
influence filling the spaces around her. It weighed heavily as it
filled the cracks between objects, putting a dark ring around the
burn of lights. The Elf forgot herself and glowed causing those who
didn’t see to notice and true to her kind the devastation that
entered was of her own creation. The Elf was now in the sights of a
Poqir, the scout demon, who watched her with a barely suppressed
joy. Her past investigation into this world had been no more than
cursory as she was too busy amusing herself with various thefts to
pay attention to politics. Had she bothered she would have
discovered to her dismay that she was on the one world she should
have avoided, which was the new home of a prince of the Martyc
Empire.

Instead, she
tracked the Vampire across city streets following her erratic path
and pointless meanderings. For this made the young Tyro an amusing
personal theatre of the Elf.

“What House
lets their children wander so?” she asked herself.

The first
protocol of the Vampire was to protect the Veil—the secrecy of
their existence from humans was paramount to their survival. Yet
this Vampire was in peril of nearly exposing herself as she walked
without a set direction. Twilight was the time locked twixt and
‘tween when worlds crossed over and the hidden life of the city
night walked amongst their human hosts unimpeded. Zyre followed the
girl sensing what she was yet to know; that the magnetic force
drawing her forward was the Vampire instinct to find those of her
own ilk. The Elf resonated with the energy surrounding her, flora,
fauna, human, demon, even Vampire as none escaped the rhythm of
life. She relished the new experiences, but in doing so left
herself open to detection and the greedy eyes of those who would
profit from her presence.

As the traffic
flowed out of the city, the girl walked back into it navigating the
turns and twists of side lanes in a zigzag that had no destination
or intent. The Elf could feel the need radiating from her,
unspoken, unrecognized, like a raging fire consuming her conscious
thoughts. She understood that the girl didn’t appreciate it was the
blood coursing through the veins of those she came across that was
causing this restless fury while compelling her to keeping moving.
Zyre watched her pain increase with every new person she
encountered and yet she did nothing to enlighten the confused being
as to the source. The girl finally collapsed against a wall, too
weak to comprehend the forces that wracked her body.

“Oh God,”
muttered the exhausted Vampire.

Maintaining her
boundary of detached interest, she saw a human woman notice the
distress of the girl.

“Do you need
help dear?”

The Elf didn’t
know if the woman was trying to help or harm, but she was soon
driven away by strange eyes glowing with barely concealed hysteria.
The girl stayed pressed against the wall until a dark figure, the
Elf could sense was another Vampire, moved past her with a
confident stride. From various roofs Zyre followed the pair down
narrow inner city streets watching the Tyro chase him to a door
with a blue neon sign above it.

She had seen
the glowing letters above the doorways of these clubs before as
they were scattered about the inner recesses of the city. These
were the Vampire meeting places, their clubs and social outlets,
but an unclaimed Tyro wouldn’t be aware of the purpose of their
existence. Her choices being no longer her own and in the clutches
of her needs the Vampire was drawn to the silent pulsation—the
primeval throb of her own kind. Zyre could have dissolved before
her and ended the girl’s confusion, but the outcome of this
Unveiling was not of her concern, live or die, it wasn’t her
obligation to interfere.

The doorway was
guarded by two guards that the Elf recognised as Verkja, hired by
the Vampires as guards and bouncers. The Tyro paused at the end of
the lane and Zyre wondered if she understood the unease they
inspired was because they were demon. The guards stood silently
under the glowing sign as others pushed the doors open to disappear
into the depths within. The Verkja were poor cousins to the elite
Varkja, the security of the Martyc Empire, often seeking employment
in the same realms to be near their kin. Unable to obtain prestige
on their own due to their lack of intelligence, loyalty, and
competence, they skated on the coattails of their formidable
relations. Unlike their cousins, their skin was marred by only the
ghost of a grey sheen, and they could pass as almost human even in
daylight. Their formidable bulk reminiscent of the Varkja gave them
work as guards, but they never made the status of their silver
skinned relatives.

She could feel
the fear of the girl rushing into the air, and instead of seeking
the protection of the club, she returned to the streets. Believing
they were alone again, the Verkja fell into the absurd boasting
that was the undoing of their race as one lifted his sleeve to
reveal a garish tattoo.

“See this—it is
so deep it was etched onto my bones!” He boasted in Giryg.

The one next to
him pulled down his own collar to show another lurid drawing, “That
is nothing, see here—it is red because my blood runs through
it!”

Zyre debated
tormenting demons too stupid to notice a magical being in their
midst, but the glare of lights had her retreat up the street.
Vampires were arriving in earnest and soon the narrow lanes were
filled with those seeking to park their noisy carriages. She found
the Tyro racing through the dingy streets and knew it would not be
long before she succumbed to the pain of her transformation. The
girl suddenly stopped as if hearing the thoughts of the Elf, but
Zyre knew already knew of the approaching Vampire. She had caught
his powerful scent upon the wind before he had even entered the
lane. The immaculate being strode with poised grace through the
dark streets for his Vampire eyes didn’t require the comfort or
guiding glow of light. He was beautiful since Vampires always were.
His sandy brown hair was sleek with silver glints, and if he was
aware that he was the focus of the girl—he showed no sign. The
energy radiating from him told Zyre this was a no ordinary Vampire
for he was not only perilously close to an Ancient, but his blood
sang the of the same Old World of the girl. She was puzzled why he
was still wandering about the open streets of the city, wasting his
time instead of preparing. When Vampires were nearly at their
Ancient state, they entered an Ashre—a place of meditation where
they could go through their final stages of transformation. His
lack of reaction to the girl didn’t mean he was unaware of the
drama unfolding around him as his senses would be enhanced to
nearly demon status.

The girl
flattened herself into an alcove and Zyre knew she was overcome by
the forceful energy of the Ancient Vampire. He walked almost up to
her before turning at the last moment into a parallel lane and the
fledgling soon pursued him with desperate urgency. Unaware of her
location the Tyro soon lost the powerful Vampire, but Zyre was not
held captive by geography. She relocated to the roof of a building
where she found him speaking intently to a cloaked figure. The
presence beside the Vampire told the Elf it was demon and though it
registered as something important, she was too unwilling to risk
detection to investigate further. She returned to following the
girl and the Vampire moved hurriedly away from approaching carriage
lights. Zyre noticed the flicker of other Vampires moving in the
same direction as the preternatural group followed each other down
into the inner reaches of the city. Faced with more than one of
these strangers the girl panicked and once again hid herself in a
doorway keeping out of sight of those obviously disinterested in
her plight. She stayed glued to the protective darkness of the
alcove and Zyre detected another player on the scene. Their scent
was as obvious as the perfume of flowers in a garden. She looked up
to the surrounding roofs to look for the humans that kept their
distance while watching the progress of the Vampires.

Curiosity, the
undoing of cats and Elves, had her dissolve behind the interesting
group whose concealment was a poor attempt to Elf eyes. While
humans overall interested her, their lack of concern about anything
beyond their own narrow lives had her relegate them to less amusing
than Vampires. Though Vampires were just as self-absorbed they were
also privy to the existence of the Reveal, which left them open to
all sorts of mischief.

The group
didn’t notice the magical visitor watching them from across the
roof since she was disinclined to engage them. She didn’t want
anything to interfere with her Vampire stalking. Zyre was intrigued
by their warrior garb and assorted weapons for while they looked
ready for battle they hid amongst the eaves as they peered into the
street below. The grizzle of his hair and stern authority singled
out their leader as he instructed the younger group surrounding
him.

“Leave the one
almost Ancient alone because he can kill you in a flash. See the
girl in the doorway that’s a Tyro, too young to know her own power.
When you find one that looks lost then probably they are unclaimed
and being unprotected makes them so much easier to remove.”

One of the
young men interjected, “There’s a whole group of us and only one of
him. Why not take out the more powerful Vampire?”

Their
instructor turned his focus back onto the street below. “Because
even though he is not quite Aunsin he is now more demon than
Vampire, there is no humanity there and you might as well try to
take out a Varkja.”

Zyre realised
these must be the famous Oric, the human hunters of the Vampire
upon their own world. She wasn’t about to let them remove the Tyro
she had been following and since she found the Vampire first she
decided to lay claim to her amusement. Picking up a handful of
pebbles she used an Elf form of travel—the dissolve, which allowed
her to move distances and reassemble at will. She reappeared on the
opposite side of the roof where she threw them at the backs of the
humans. They turned en masse their faces torn by ferocious scowls
as they scrambled across the area with drawn weapons. All they
found were a few rocks because the Elf had dissolved the second the
pebbles had left her fingers.

“Tis almost as
much fun as making Gnomes chase shalur,” chuckled an unrepentant
Elf who was already back following the erratic Vampire.

The Tyro
continued following the Vampires down the dark lanes that snaked
between old buildings whose interior secrets were kept by those of
the night. When Zyre saw the slight neon glow of the light above
the doorway of the club she knew that this was the only unexplored
path left open to the girl. The young Vampire fell behind a group
as they entered, which left the Elf to consider her situation.

Zyre sat on a
discarded box around the corner while she spent a few unusual
moments thinking before acting, but for once—she had good reason.
Everyone knew where there were Verkja there most probably were
Varkja, and where there were Varkja there was a Martyc. If she
followed the girl eventually someone would tell the local Martyc of
her presence, and then he would tell whatever one the Elders wanted
her to marry.

Sometimes, when
an Elf had no options, the best avenue was to cause as much trouble
as she was able before being forced to abscond, so Zyre approached
the two demons with a cheeky smile. She couldn’t help but enjoy
their reaction because an Elf in plain view was information heaven
for those always on the outside of power looking in. News of her
could lead them into the inner sanctum of the Martyc world. This
knowledge openly caressed the faces of the demons that stood
watching the Elf with cautious and greedy eyes.

“Hey hey,” her
kaleidoscope eyes were green with mischief, “you watching blue for
the mutants?”

The bouncers
looked at each other in alarm as if she had declared war and one
managed to gurgle, “Elf.”

“Shh,” she
admonished, “don’t want to frighten the Vampires.”

She dissolved
past them with these words to reappear unnoticed inside the lobby
of the club. If any of the Vampires had the wherewithal to
recognise her, then the experience of their knowledge would have
taught them to leave well enough alone. Magical creatures
encountered remarkably little in the way of obstruction, some
welcomed their unpredictable presence, many were wary, some
actively sought her, but none could ignore. It was easy for her to
follow the disturbed wandering of the girl for she rippled upon the
atmosphere like a wayward tornado. Zyre didn’t care if she was
welcome inside as she wanted to witness the impact of an unclaimed
Vampire upon the patrons, because tonight this was going to be the
best show in town.