Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (9 page)

Those wishing
to access the steady flow of information these schizoid creatures
were privy to, in order to spy upon others, found bribery useless.
Tricking one too drunk to comprehend the action was impossible and
threats slid off beings oblivious to the concern of others. The
only way to get information from a Pixie was the hope that while
drunk and during one of their rambling tirades they revealed
something of interest. As sugar was the seducer of the Elf then
gin, especially the sought after juniper flavoured one from the
human realm, was the seducer of the Pixie. Pixies not only loved to
gossip, but were addicted to terribly bad poetry which they
released in epic bouts of soliloquy or dirges that they could sing
for hours. It took a stalwart soul to endure the endless rants of a
drunken Pixie in the hope of ascertaining a drop of information.
Most found the Pixie more amusing for their gossip, which tended to
be readily available after the delivery of the message than their
insights. Fairies rarely delivered missives and were used when the
world was deemed too risky for Pixies, such as the human realm full
of the seduction of gin. Elves were never used to deliver anything
for they tended to wander off halfway to their destination if
somewhere else looked more fun.

With no close
ties to other creatures outside of their own kind the Pixie seemed
to be a solitary creature. Like the rest of the magical beings they
had the gift of longevity, which to human eyes would appear nearly
immortal, unless they fell into the Despair—one of the few things
that could kill a magical being. While every magical creature was
unique in their capacity and appearance this depression of deadly
proportions tended to affect them all in a similar manner. If the
ability of a magical being to move about with freedom was removed
or their capacity to harmonise with their environment was
obstructed, then they would fade away. As with all the others of
their realm their life depended upon an unfettered existence, clip
the wings of a Pixie and the hummingbird of the magical world
died.

**********

It is not
known precisely where angels dwell whether in the air, the void, or
the planets. It has not been God's pleasure that we should be
informed of their abode.

Voltaire

The next night
Zyre returned to watching the fortress while trying to keep out of
the way of the patrolling Varkja. She wasn’t entirely certain of
her next move as an Elf in general didn’t make plans—much less make
plans of action. She had only returned because it was a place of
activity. She felt her mind wander and knew she couldn’t maintain
this level of focus indefinitely. Somehow, she needed to create
disorder in the Martyc household to preoccupy the prince and her
thoughts bounced around how to compromise those in his employ. The
Druqe required more time than she had, their minds were filled with
pockets and she didn’t have the luxury of corrupting each one. The
drizzle had not cleared, but it was light enough for the stars to
shimmer in the night sky. She might have appreciated the beauty if
something else had not demanded her instant attention.

There’s a human
adage, it never rains but it pours, and it was about to pour more
than rain upon Zyre when a familiar noise filled her ears. She
recognised the hum of a Pixie traversing through the air because it
was something she had grown up hearing and she groaned inwardly.
First Fairies, now Pixies, what’s the point of leaving home if
everyone else followed? She didn’t bother considering how the Pixie
found her because one thing magical creatures always could do was
find each other no matter the world. The Pixie, at first a blur,
managed to slow down enough to become visible and as his nervous
fluttering paused she could see it was Beb. His sudden appearance
and strange loyalty would have left her perplexed had she not been
aware that the human realm was the source of the libation Pixies
adored—gin.

She would have
liked to put distance between her unexpected visitor and the
building she was surveilling as Pixies were not the most
understated of beings. So consumed with information he was
determined to impart the Pixie wouldn’t budge until he had
unburdened himself. He glanced nervously at the strange world
around him, though not as schizoid as the Fairy, the brash nature
of such an industrial world grated harshly upon his sensitivities.
Zyre knew she had no recourse but wait until he said his piece,
then if she was lucky he’d leave as swiftly as he had descended.
Beb sidled up to Zyre and she gritted her teeth wishing he was
drunk because a sober Pixie in close vicinity was as disconcerting
as the pristine beauty of the Fairy.

He leaned over
as if to whisper, but instead bellowed into her ear, “The Martyc
that chases you is Xatn of this world.”

The Elf was not
a creature that often considered violence except there were times
when a good smack would come in handy. Restraining the urge to
shout she pointed to the dark building before them.

“I know, I
know, he be living there.”

He leapt back
in fright before turning to Zyre with an incredulous stare. His
voice rose into a squeak of warning.

“You spy on the
one who wishes to union, this be unwise. Martyc will finance and
raze the countryside upon whims. Leave this vice world to demon
Empire and go to safe world.”

Zyre decided
that she preferred her Pixie communications from a drunken source
as while a sober Pixie might ramble less, their righteous
disapproval could be downright irritating.

“Safe world
where?” her sarcasm was lost on him. “Like the Outerworlds
maybe?”

Beb shook with
warning. “Elders sent a Fairy to give you to Martyc.”

“Tis so tis
so,” she said. “He’s already been here and gone.”

His eyes nearly
rolled in his head from her calm assertion. “Fairy found you so
soon—how be this?”

Zyre scowled.
“Poqir.”

He required no
more explanation since all knew the perfidy of scout demons could
rival even Goblins. She wanted to remove the Pixie from this world
as quickly as possible, so she added to the bad news.

“Dangerous
mutants—blood drinker Vampires walk the streets!”

His mouth made
a little circle while his eyes widened in fascination and Zyre knew
that her attempt to frighten him had been futile. He added to her
dismay by leaning in even closer to reveal another reason for his
presence.

“The
Vampires—gin they make with juniper.”

She didn’t know
if Vampires, humans, or both made gin and she didn’t care because
Beb had revealed his true intent. Juniper berries were the catnip
of Pixies, add gin to this—the prop that helped them cope with a
maniac universe—and Zyre knew his appearance was not protecting her
as her protecting him. A Pixie on his own had no hope of obtaining
the precious human spirit, but with a resourceful Elf at his
side—it became entirely possible. She was never going to be rid of
him, at least not until she got him raging drunk and tossed him
back through the Reveal. Resigned to the prospect of his presence
for the rest of the evening Zyre decided to lure him with the offer
of a Vampire sighting. She had planned to observe the auction on
her own as she had overheard the Aegai say there was one that
evening and she was certain it would involve the Tyro she had
followed. If she could engross the Pixie with Vampires and gin she
might be able to rid herself of his troublesome company before he
brought Martyc attention to them. Zyre led Beb back into the city
while promising him the rare treat of watching one of the rituals
in the initiation of a new Vampire. The Pixie, while captivated,
managed to insert the word juniper into every pause of her
sentences. A defeated Zyre realised she was going to be prisoner of
his obsessions until the Pixie was rollicking drunk. It wasn’t that
she disliked him—it was that Pixies needed ever so much care when
off world. His unexpected presence would force the wayward Elf into
the unnatural position of refraining from too much mischief. Zyre
was not one to a look out for the interests of another, much less
one determined to imbibe as much juniper as a body could
handle.

Beb fluttered
beside her in the unbalanced fashion of his kind because without
the calming effects of alcohol every whisper of sound became a
tempestuous violation of his senses. Watching her unwelcome
supporter Zyre felt a tug of apprehension skirt the corners of her
mind as her suspension of spirit was abating with every passing
moment. Any success was now severely compromised because when
Pixies and alcohol were involved it would never go well for anyone.
Zyre had faced many challenges in life, but none quite as
exhausting as attempting to transport a gin obsessed Pixie across
town. She was intent upon observing the private Vampire ritual, but
curiosity, the downfall of cats and Elves, drove her to discover
the fate of the young Vampire girl. She had no need to intercept
the whispers of gossip because it wafted like a gift upon the air
around them. Before this world her interaction with Vampires
consisted of the gossip of Pixies, the scorn of demons, and
watching the unfriendly Aunsin who lived in secret enclaves.

She pulled the
fluttering Pixie by the collar while he alternately squeaked
juniper and flinched at the racket of urban life. Realising that
her visitor was not going to make it across town, much less back
through the Reveal, without attracting some sort of human response
Zyre stood in the fading light on the rooftop allowing the scents
of the city to pilot her. Babysitting a Pixie in a strange world
was the antithesis of an Elf usually avoiding responsibility, but
her desire to keep out off the Martyc radar outweighed her
frustration. Once she found the scent of gin she guided her unruly
visitor with promises of the enchanting elixir.

“We get some
juniper and watch the Vampire auction but must be shh.”

The mention of
quiet had the Pixie make yelps of a high enough pitch to worry bats
hiding in belfries and an exasperated Zyre took his collar in a
firm grip. They skimmed the surface of the roofs until the Elf
deposited the Pixie in a side street where she contemplated her
dilemma. The entire area reeked of spirits, not just from the shop
on the corner, but also the lane they currently occupied which
served as a home for those humans who preferred living on the
streets. The overwhelmed Pixie oscillated between alarm and
anticipation as the duo scents of filth and alcohol besieged his
delicate senses.

“Juniper?” he
squeaked at her his voice disturbing a dark pile huddled at the
base of a building.

Alerted by the
movement it took her a minute to decipher that the bundle of mobile
rags was a human hidden by a layer of external grime. Wracked with
the poisons of addiction his scent was so muted that the magical
creatures almost didn’t notice his presence until he revealed
himself. Zyre looked around for any other hidden beings and when
none presented she concerned herself with the problem of obtaining
the gin while leaving the Pixie alone for a few moments. A
fluttering Pixie inside a liquor shop would be a disaster worthy of
Poqir notice and Zyre knew that his precarious hold upon calm most
likely would fail.

Glaring at his
unexpected magical company the bunch of rags suddenly shouted,
“Piss off, you can’t have them,” pulling his feet up under him as
if convinced they wanted to steal his shoes.

The shouting
caused Beb to flutter a metre above the ground and the vagrant eyed
them in awe while scrambling to his feet.

“Angels, angels
come to get me,” he slurred.

Zyre knew of
the human angels and they sounded too much like Fairies for her
liking, but the sudden mention of these religious beings gave her
an idea.

She pushed the
unwilling Pixie towards the man saying, “This be the wizard of the
juniper and you must entertain him with a story before he gives up
the gin.”

Beb
involuntarily recoiled from the stench. “What wizard tis this—the
wizard of filth?”

Zyre scowled at
Beb. “Juniper tis a plant, this be a creature of the earth and they
are in unison this earth being and trees. Do you dishonour the
spirit of the gin?”

He gave the
vagrant a doubtful stare. “What story can I tell one of trees?”

Zyre knew of
one story Pixies never bored of telling, a rare adventure when they
were not only sober but also united briefly to save a world.

“Tell of the
Witches of Kheleyk and the dirt spell of Syringdrup.”

Beb edged
forward as his eyes gleamed with pride. “Those not of the blood of
Syringdrup knew of the wastrels of the north crossing the
Reveal....”

The Elf left
the Pixie to his tale and dissolved to reappear inside the shop, an
ethereal addition to aisles, where she hid in plain sight. Zyre
reached into her pocket to feel her rapidly diminishing supply of
shalurs—disturbing the misconception that Elves always stole what
they wanted. The Elf, caught between the duplicity of her nature
would steal as often as she left something in fair trade.
Unfortunately, her choice of when and what to leave in fair trade
was as esoteric as what she believed to be good value. While a
fresh bouquet of wildflowers may not be the ideal barter for the
owner of the goods the act was always done with a clear conscience.
Then again, there times when Elves just stole for the sake of it
and usually from rich, arrogant demons. Liking humans she placed a
shalur on the shelf before grabbing two bottles and a handful of
chocolate bars for herself. She dissolved back into the lane where
to her relief the Pixie was still present and to her greater
surprise the creature composed of filth appeared to comprehend the
incoherent tale being regaled to him. Zyre shoved one bottle at the
bundle, payment for babysitting the Pixie while waving the second
one in front of her excited companion. Before Beb had a chance to
grab it she removed them to the relative safety of a roof near the
Chambers, because she knew demons would never dare to get too close
to the Vampire space.