Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (49 page)

The Ancient, of
origins she could never have comprehended, had ignored her
completely and in doing so managed to get her attention. While she
couldn’t weed out the actual lie she knew there was one afoot, so
though she appeared to be overwhelming Joe Turner she was in fact
recording the minute reflections in the Aunsin. Those of his status
were used to reading the atmosphere rather than the person and with
so much body language from Vampires, humans, even the demons, had
the Ancient respond in kind. Kokumuo was either unaware he had
relapsed back into human style communication or was unable to
conceal himself entirely from the Elf. Either way, Zyre was
enjoying the show and a brief look at Afir revealed the Druqe was
not far behind her thoughts.

“What about
Gargoyles, how much defence can they provide?” the Key asked.

Afir responded
smoothly. “They are used to defend buildings not beings, therefore
when faced with a horde of invaders they can be overrun as they
tend to remove them one at a time.”

Zyre knew there
was far more to Gargoyles than the quick response of the Druqe, but
demons never allowed anyone—not even their allies to see all the
cards up their sleeve. She cheerfully continued pointing out the
weak areas and she saw the glimmer of appreciation from both the
Martyc and the Varkja over her knowledge of vantage points. How
like demons to admire her deft use of visual mapping for protection
instead of her wonderful character and ability to speak to cats.
The Hark and Key were also active in suggesting approach routes and
the entire table went through many scenarios of possible attack,
but Zyre wasn’t listening. She was busy watching the gleaming ebony
skin of the Aunsin with her eyes merging between green and blue, a
startling sight that had the Mayor speechless during the
discussion. Kokumuo ignored her and she did nothing to encourage
dialogue because she knew he would tell her nothing. It was going
to be the human Mayor Joe Turner who would tell her, though he
probably didn’t know himself since only a fool would give a human
direct knowledge with an Elf in the room.

Zyre watched
Vryn take command of the discussion and she fell back into a
reverie of admiration. He was so tall and the breadth of his
shoulders was a comforting strength, shame he was such a demon all
the time. As if she had said the words aloud the Martyc looked up
suddenly to meet her eyes and she was snapped back into reality by
his words.

“You can take
the first watch with the Oric at the Centre.”

“What?”

She found
herself dragged back into a conversation that had progressed
without her.

“The Oric will
have a first watch at the Centre at twilight since the Raiders
won’t move before then.”

“Ah yes—the
Raiders.”

Vryn raised his
brow as if concerned by her lack of enthusiasm. “Are you good with
taking this shift?”

“Yes, yes,” she
replied brusquely. “I will see to the Oric.”

Zyre knew this
was not the truth and she wasn’t sure what was, but an idea was
busy scraping at the back of her mind. Unwilling to show herself to
the others she gave the Xatn a happy smile as she started to hum
causing the rest of the room to relax while they fell into her Elf
song. Once agreement was made between them the group started to
disband and Vryn turned to Zyre with watchful eyes.

“May I offer
you some lunch?”

She smiled at
the pointless offer since she had just consumed an entire plate of
pastries. His eyes warmed and she could feel herself becoming lost
within the gold burst of his emotion. She knew he wanted to keep
her longer, but she had other plans.

“I be
fine.”

He tried again.
“Allow me to give you a ride back to Cardei.”

Zyre shook her
head unsurprised by his knowledge of where she had been as the
Martyc was alert to the traffic of the world he ruled.

“Veraign?” he
enquired with a polite smile.

She needed to
leave, but his smile riveted her attention and for a second she
stood prisoner of the unexpected warmth. The Martyc were not beings
who smiled often and they would do so at the demise of an enemy or
financial coup that brought them glory, but in interpersonal
relationships it was a rarity. She allowed the brief pleasure of
losing herself in his dark eyes as she suddenly returned to the
memory of his lips caressing hers. It seemed so long ago the
presumption of his desire, except she couldn’t allow him to take
her over because there were so many things an Elf needed to do. He
reached out and his fingertips stroked her arm causing her eyes to
become bright emerald.

“Vryn.”

His name became
a sigh upon her lips and she dissolved slowly out of his grasp.

Zyre was not
leaving the area immediately because she had someone to speak to
and it only took her a few seconds to track down the Mayor inside
the huge car that brought him. He gave a startled jolt when she
suddenly appeared beside him her eyes brimming into mischief. The
burly driver twisted around violently while his employer motioned
for him to continue the journey.

“Hey, hey,” she
said trying to initiate friendship.

“Err, hello,”
he answered cautiously as his eyes watched her closely.

Zyre searched
her mind for something to instil trust then decided to impart some
information he might find useful.

“You know,” she
whispered confidentially, “your moon really isn’t made of green
cheese. Tis the demons spreading rumours again.”

The human
couldn’t help himself and smiled at the beautiful creature beside
him, it was the opening she had wanted and she slipped her arm
through his. She didn’t realise her mistake until she felt his
response hit the air between them like an explosion. Demons had
difficulty controlling their desire when presented with the
prospect of Elf touch, but the human made no effort. He placed his
hand on her knee with the ease of one used to getting his own way
with others. She withdrew her arm as her kaleidoscope eyes merged
back into teal, he obviously had no idea how many pieces she could
leave him in before the driver turned around. Joe leaned forward to
open a concealed cabinet and poured himself a smelly drink. He
waved the glass towards Zyre who refused because unlike demons,
Vampires, Pixies, and humans she saw no useful purpose in
intoxication.

She gave him
the exuberant smile of a young girl on the threshold of life. “How
many districts do you mind?”

Zyre almost
could see his pomposity fill him as he responded, “I mind them all
girlie.”

Girlie didn’t
offend the Elf as she was female and the patronising tone of his
speech made no impression on her because she was busy with
thoughts.

“Have you told
them to keep away from the Centre—you know the noisy ones?”

“The sirens,”
he confirmed as she nodded. “Yeah no problem and away from the
fortress as well.”

He put his hand
on her knee once again and the clumsy attempt at seduction had her
consider sending him through the car window. Normally she would
have adored such a plan and he was extremely lucky that this time
she was too busy trying to upset the campaign of a Martyc renegade.
The Elf didn’t move—her eyes never changed, her smile remained
fixed and the almost obtuse human removed his hand as he suddenly
understood he had revealed something. He threw her a nervous
glance, but it was too late for Zyre had what she needed and with a
wink she dissolved away from the sleek black car into the twilight
of the city streets.

She arrived at
the Centre to find only Oric women and if she hadn’t been
suspicious before this certainly would have set her senses on fire.
The women, while excellent archers, were not going to hold their
own against a horde of gangly Raiders and Zyre couldn’t mind the
safety of them all. She approached the one who had stepped forward
the last time they met and the blue eyes of the archer were bright
with inner knowledge. Only this time the girl she spoke to held
herself differently for the Elf knew of the wages of war for battle
took the fragility of innocence away in one stroke.

They stood
together; the earth tones of their garb making them appear similar
in dress as they observed the Centre before them. Zyre made no
effort to hide and the girl followed her lead, whatever their men
had thought neither was stupid enough to believe the story
told.

“They are
expecting attack here,” her voice was unconvinced.

“That’s what we
were told—supposedly information got from a Raider,” replied the
Oric.

Her teal eyes
searched the empty horizon where twilight had fallen and aside from
the usual Giryg and Verkja movement nothing impressed upon the
atmosphere.

Zyre shook her
head, “Some will come to make it look so, but you will handle. You
can always use the Verkja turning to dust as distraction.”

The Elf grinned
and the girl smiled despite herself for while the thought of Verkja
turning to dust should have filled them with horror it seemed to be
what they did the best. Zyre nodded to the group before dissolving
back to her roof garden of the plastic flowers. The keeper of the
little men was watering his pretend flowers once again as he
whistled tunelessly. She sat unobserved in the shade of the sign
drinking as much honey as possible while she crammed bottles into
every pocket. Where she was going was a desert of concrete and
steel and there would be nowhere for her to replenish energy, so
she would have to bring her own. There was no way for her to
calculate what they would be facing, but if it were anything like
the earlier attack both sides would be prepared, which would make
it a longer, bloodier battle. For a brief second she regretted
sending Beb back through the Reveal because he was a useful body in
a skirmish. The strange gardener left and she stood up to survey a
horizon dominated by the bright orange moon knowing the Raiders
would make their move once the flow of humans had lessened. She
wondered if staying was a wise move since her constant interplay
with Martyc affairs was the type of stuff to get an Elf noticed and
by all the wrong people. The last thing she wanted was to become a
helpful being, so fond of the humans—yes, dependable
rescuer—hardly. Unfortunately, when even Florian Ribeni degenerated
into a useful citizen she found herself noticing reality more than
was preferable and making decisions was best left to those who
cared. She had things to do, worlds to see, a cat to avenge, and
she would have gone a lot sooner if a demon had not kissed her at a
dance.

Nothing could
make an Elf amble into the heart of danger faster than trying to
force her into a position of safety. The Martyc tried his little
tricks to keep or delay her from the action and whether he knew she
knew didn’t matter anymore. She knew the truth and was going to
meet the woman—defeat the woman—that claimed with arrogance a
relationship not hers. Then she would tend to one who murdered
cats. There was also the little charade of the Mage who gave her
incorrect information and she wondered if that also was a method of
ensuring her attendance or some more of their divination rubbish.
Always posturing, those who used magic instead of being magic the
usurpers of her heritage who were never more than pretenders to the
throne. The little men grumbled at her movement across the roof and
she gave them a farewell nod.

“Guard the
world—demons are afoot.”

She dissolved
slowly across the city the night was still young and though alert;
she felt no disturbed energy in the atmosphere. She knew the
Raiders wouldn’t have left as Gargoyles and Varkja guarding the
doorway would have reported the movements. She appeared a few
buildings behind the fortress expecting to find Oric in strategic
locations, because they could hide behind their humanity and not
alert Raiders. Though the city was a mire of security cameras it
was not hard for any of them to avoid detection. Blind spots,
reflective skin, demons burned too hot, Vampires too cold, speed
and magic, all kept them to limited exposure. To her surprise no
one was about—this was more than unprotected—this was too quiet for
usually the area was rife with the curious and those seeking
moments to exploit. She moved closer until she was nearly opposite
the imposing building whose large glass windows were revealing none
of its secrets.

Zyre focused
upon the roof seeing the gargoyles in place, but where were the
Poqir trying to keep her from noticing their constant chameleon
changes? The usual Varkja units patrolling the front were
absent—this was no unguarded building—this was an abandoned
one.

Even the
haphazard mind of a barely battle oriented Elf managed to grasp the
obvious. This was a trap and once the realization hit her mind it
wandered through to the logical conclusion. If this was a trap set
for Raiders then....

Once in
possession of the truth Zyre no longer bothered to conceal her
position from the world. She stood in the open on a roof opposite
the fortress—impossibly calm considering the situation. Not that
much could harm her for she was magical and could abscond to safety
at any given moment. Not that any expected to damage her for she
was protected by a spell barely tested by a universe that strained
against constraint. The only thing that could hurt her was tall,
dark and looked into her eyes with a lie of a lie. While she
thought he was protecting her he was actually luring her out into
the open. This was a trap and Elfzyre—a magical being from a
wondrous world, the desire of demons across the Reveal, and at that
moment a very foolish girl—was the bait.

The Imprisoned
Elf

Wandering a
multiverse filled with creatures struggling to maintain cordial
interactions there were always those who stood above the rabble of
discontent, shining, envied, and as daunting as they were
beautiful. Of these, the Elf continued to fascinate a universe that
would do anything to enjoy the company of a capricious somewhat
blessed creature. Confusing observer and participant alike all eyes
were upon beings that appeared to value nothing but the air
surrounding them. Ignoring riches of all the worlds the Elf focused
upon freedom above all. She needed not just freedom from restraint,
but from all attachments including that of community. She required
no close family network for she had grown up apart from her
immediate kin cared for by a Maz, the one who replaced an off world
mother. The Maz could be a family member or one of her own kind
willing to take on the task of educating a being whose natural
state was wayward. The Elf mother would stay off world to raise her
demonic son because this was the child she believed required her
presence more than her talented and beautiful daughter did.