Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (5 page)

The Elf

The term
magical creature described the appearance these beings had upon the
Reveal as they appeared to employ magic in their daily reckoning.
Those of magical descent were not subject to the same laws of cause
and effect that the demon, human, and Vampire were tied to, and
appeared to have a magical means that defied the logic of their
existence. The Elf wandered about the various worlds secure in the
knowledge that they were kept safe by a combination of the Seal of
Sere, and their innate abilities. This realisation, instead of
leading to a composed reflective being, created a creature that
used mischief and intrigue to occupy themselves. Always female with
silky hair and kaleidoscope eyes that would turn into stormy teal
when provoked, her slender body gave the deceptive appearance of
fragility. The Elf was an active, athletic, and graceful being.
Only the slight point gracing the tip of her ears was the single
hint of the magical mayhem below the surface of such a delicious
exterior.

Elves crossed
the Reveal often hiding in plain sight, but rarely noticed by those
they chose to annoy until the damage was done. The Elf, whilst not
cruel, was a disinterested party remaining uninvolved in the plight
of another—unless it affected her amusement. The result of this was
that manufacturers of sweets became affluent while those who grew
cabbages remained on the outskirts of indulgent wealth. Interaction
between magical creatures rarely extended beyond an exchange of
information with the burden of friendship being sporadic.
Conversation between magical creatures was static, fragmented, and
with the Elf—more often than not—in the form of a demand. Magical
creatures tended to absorb most of their information from the
atmosphere, so they rarely had to articulate states such as
annoyance because they were well aware of the emotions of others.
Once outside their realm they slowly returned to a more loquacious
form when they encountered beings that required more than their
fragmented dialogue.

When confronted
with violence the Elf was in general passive, unless invested,
preferring to dissolve and leave the aggressor with a nonexistent
victim. Able to move peripherally to view, disappear, or hide in
plain sight, the Elf existed on the edges of reality. A reality
that would be surprised to discover these beings were the ones
often responsible for unexplained mishaps, breakages, miscount of
money, and of course the last piece of cake mysteriously
disappearing. The Elf came—took—they had no requirement to conquer
for the universe was already theirs. Demons watched these magical
creatures with a mixture of contempt, envy, and desire as Elves
were always female, always beautiful, and always elsewhere.

The contempt of
demons stemmed from the inability of Elves to declare their intent
outright, or at least battle for what they wanted. Envy at them
sliding without effort between worlds, never having to struggle for
anything. If truth be told the Elf wanted for nothing because the
Elf wanted nothing as they lived for the experience and not the
result. The consumer durables that held the human world prisoner,
the power that held the demon one enthralled had no value to a
creature that would trade it all away for a bag of sugar. The only
time an Elf came into full view was when she was in peril or angry
and it was very difficult to inspire a being aloof to its own
existence into a fury.

If the Elf was
stirred to a reaction outside her realm she had at her disposal
several magical options for defence including the Seal of Sere, the
protection spell that bound both magical and demons to consequences
for their actions. Orchestrating the Seal of Sere was the last
great effort of the wayward Elves. After which they renounced their
hastily appointed position of Elders, a rank that had been filled
in the past by whoever could be bothered, and they quickly
regressed back into the mischief of the Reveal.

Until ready for
union they lived solitary lives where they played on the edge of
seduction to get their own way. They were busy either plaguing or
abandoning puzzled males whose inspired desires were met with
sudden lack of presence. The Elf used seduction not to seduce, but
as another tool in her bag of tricks with some more deadly than
others.

Their names
were often cursed behind the scenes of great embarrassments,
humiliations, and sometimes amusing disasters. For amid her
mischief there was nothing the Elf loved more than to expose hubris
and disclose devious secrets. Enjoying longevity similar to demons
as well as a life of naughty, the Elf often enjoyed watching the
fruits of her labour before absconding. Interaction required
personal investment and for her, until maturation, that was
dangerous. Her only immediate concern was the unwanted attentions
of the Martyc demon whose sole weakness was the ability to love and
stalk an Elf for eternity.

The Elf nearly
always chose her mate exterior to her species, which kept her
powers stronger than other magical folk because the mixed genetic
heritage created a formidable being. The Elf, one who spent the
early part of her life annoying demons, was mocked by destiny
because her mate was often a Martyc. Elves had unions with other
magical and non-demon males, but the result was often a barren and
short-lived exercise. The strength of the Elf lay within her
lineage, so that which gave her freedom also trapped her into
choosing one with an equal heritage able to cope with one of the
most powerful beings of the Reveal. The Elf feared very little in
her journeys as only the Martyc with his commanding presence and
capacity for an eternity of fascination made her wary. Until ready
to settle into a relationship she preferred to be a lone creature
free to create havoc wherever her heart desired. The Martyc with
his passionate nature would consume the Elf, demanding her constant
presence and attention leaving her to yearn for the simple joy of
freedom. The Elf could wander the Vampire world with impunity for
this mutation, if she allowed them to catch her, was unable to use
Elf blood because it would poison them. The closer Vampires grew to
their Ancient status the more demonic was their reaction to the
Elf—until they also sought her company.

Despite the
ability to change human experience, or contain demon violence, the
Elf preferred to survey the drama played out before her as it
didn’t do well for this creature to indulge in sentiment. For the
magical being, after centuries of enjoying the role of prankster
and observer, was now unable to contain the powerful emotion of
their own spirit. Elves once in the throes of passion, anger, or
grief, discovered themselves vulnerable and suddenly able to die
from something as simple as despair.

**********

Life is just
one damned thing after another.

Elbert
Hubbard

If the Elf were
ever impressed by luxurious surroundings she would have seen the
sumptuous decor of the club as one of rich colour where walls were
painted to match the paisley swirls of the lush carpet. The
lighting was barely visible but none of them, Vampires, demons, or
Elves required level of illumination humans needed. She had
followed the girl through various doorways that led further down
into dark corridors before breaking open into another room. Each
doorway had a solitary neon letter above it to indicate something,
but the Elf couldn’t read the human scratches.

The girl
finally stopped and then moved across the room to sit at a long bar
lining one wall. The large room seemed more for interaction than
entertainment as it was filled with small tables and booths for
intimate conversations. The Elf scanned faces in a sea of
perfection as she noted, not for the first time, the preponderance
of males in the Vampire world. They sat in their immaculate suits
with shining hair and glowing eyes, the mutants of her universe.
Zyre sat in the corner aware she had limited time before notice,
then she would be entertaining an audience as intent upon watching
her as she was checking out the girl seated on a stool. The girl’s
dull gaze followed the flow of those around her, those who would
ignore her to the point of being invisible.

The other
Vampires moved around the girl. Living under the protection of
their Houses they sifted easily within groups while studiously
avoiding the confused stranger at the bar. The Elf stared at the
barman fidgeting behind the fledgling for she almost could feel the
struggle within him—caught between the nervous girl and whatever
knowledge he could share with her. Whatever his position entailed
as an employee of this particular club saving Tyros would not be in
his job description. He stood behind the girl watching her scan the
room as if she would find a sense of her existence in the faces
around her.

The whispers of
those present were a hum in the background, but Zyre didn’t need to
hear them to know their emotions because the Verkja had no doubt
imparted their information. She tapped her fingers lightly on the
bar and gained the immediate attention of the barman as legend had
preceded the magical for centuries.

“Good evening,”
he began his formal greeting. “It is a...,” here he paused for
words since he could not say honour as Vampires were wary of all
beings from the Reveal.

She saw the
deepening of colour in his eyes when he couldn’t hide his
appreciation of her magical beauty and she gave him a cheeky grin.
Had she been a child more of guile than mischief she would have
used this effect to manipulate for personal gain rather than just a
useful get away in a sticky situation.

The Vampire
settled for the least offensive conclusion, “...unexpected
err...visit?”

He watched her
eyes glow emerald green with amusement since his discomfort didn’t
insult a creature who in essence couldn’t care less if Vampires
liked her.

She smiled at
his twitching face/ “I want a drink made of fruit—lots of
them.”

The barman gave
his stock an uneasy glare before turning back to her, “We only
serve—ah—human alcohol drinks laced with um you know....”

Zyre did
indeed know except before she could respond the Vampire she had
seen earlier in the lane entered. His presence became a sharp edge
to the room as the double power of one on the threshold of Aunsin
and Old World blood rippled across the atmosphere. He wandered over
to the bar, but instead of taking a seat seemed to look into the
distance as if pondering which chair suited him. The Elf, who
absorbed rather than looked, knew he was not idle. She felt his
intent invading the air as if he was evaluating the essence of the
girl, who shrank into herself her eyes hostile with fear.

If Zyre
bothered to reflect upon anything, she might have considered the
strangeness of a world that appeared to be short of women, yet
would also disregard the woman before them. Surely she would be
highly prized in such a situation, but the Elf didn’t care to be
privy to the complexities of the modern Vampire world. Her
interests tended to focus upon how to create as much mischief as
possible in the shortest amount of time. While she knew the
Ghuvk—the Vampire leaders—determined life or death for others, she
didn’t investigate them for politics, of any realm, bored her.

The Vampire
moved on as if the act of deciding was too exhausting to
contemplate and his departure left the barman shuffling with
uncertainty. The girl fixed him with a glare of suspicion before
suddenly becoming besieged by some internal agony. She gripped
herself in an embrace of desperation causing the barman to move
swiftly and he placed a thick glass goblet in front of her. Even
from across the bar the contents revolted the Elf who shimmered
about the edges creating a vision that fascinated those watching.
The subject of her scrutiny was too engrossed in her own personal
pain to notice the magical being watching her anguish with aloof
interest.

The girl shook
her head at the offering and he leaned forward to whisper, “Drink
this, it will ease the pain.”

She turned
away, but another shiver passed through her body causing her to
withdraw.

The Tyro held
onto herself with tight misery and he insisted, “Take it.”

She lifted the
goblet with shaking hands and took a tentative sip, which turned
into a gulp before she quickly devoured the contents in one long
drink. No sooner than she had finished drinking when the newly fed
virus completed the change as it rushed through her veins and the
fresh pink flush of her skin announced her Vampire heritage. Zyre
knew the mug contained a mixture of blood and wine, so she found
herself both disgusted and intrigued by the effect the first drink
had upon on the girl. After the glow of blood, the girl attempted
to stand except her legs wobbled under her and she turned to the
barman in accusation. Her distress had her stagger against the bar
and she held onto it while a room feigning disinterest watched her
struggle.

Her eyes were
dark with fury as she glared at the barman in accusation.
“Poison...you poisoned....”

Using the last
of her energy she stumbled through the doorway and the cold rush of
air told Zyre it was the exit back onto the street. Curiosity, the
killer of cats and nemesis of Elves, had Zyre follow the Vampire
back into the dark. Her obsession left a preoccupied Elf
unobservant to the pursuit of a newly arrived Varkja.

This demon was
from a mercenary world that specialised in security for the Martyc
Empire, the only ones rich enough to afford their discreet
protection. With silver skin and hair—the Varkja blended poorly
into the human landscape and were mainly relegated to night duties.
The Varkja were the eyes of the Martyc upon the street,
intelligent, muscular warriors that could remove or fight just
about anything.