Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (25 page)

“Could be, I
don’t pay attention to such trivia.”

Her
kaleidoscope eyes cleared into an emerald green because nothing the
Elf loved more than a liar trying to fib to a fibber.

“Yes.”

Her reply was
not due to lack of conversation, but because the puzzle of him was
starting to fall into place. Galt gazed past her to the roof
containing the Oric and the aura of a smile glanced off his
mouth—daring them to face a being well equipped to deal with the
entire group at once. Once revealed the Oric withdrawal drifted
upon the air, but Zyre was not attending to their progress since
something far more disturbing had commanded her mind. Like a nail
scratching down a window the dark cloud of his thoughts laid raw
upon her senses. The primal existence of this creature, with the
inability to decipher anything beyond the urge to eat and kill
whatever it encountered riveted her. Her eyes pierced the darkness
to make out the shape slowing climbing the side of a building
toward the roof housing Florian. With the confidence born of a
lifetime of doing exactly as she pleased she didn’t worry about the
fate of the Vampire.

Her ruby lips
curved into an Elf smile. “Perhaps your pet needs a better
leash.”

Leaving the
Vampire to contend with his Revenant she dissolved back to find a
terrified Florian hiding behind a large airshaft.

He hissed in
furious panic, “Do you know what’s climbing the wall right
now?”

Zyre wandered
over to the edge of the roof where Galt could clearly see her as he
watched his pet climb upwards. A crack of energy snapped from her
fingertips into the air and a dull thud echoed up the lane as the
monstrous being fell to the ground. The Elf did the unusual and
remained in full view looking at the Vampire. As they exchanged
stares the being almost Aunsin, probably the first time in a long
time, dropped his first.

She returned to
Florian. “Nothing there, nothing at all—at least not anymore.”

Refusing to be
mollified Florian started brushing his suit while complaining that
all she ever did was bring him to roll in filth.

Zyre grinned.
“But who else would come with me to speak to the Oric?”

He gave her
another panicked look as she gestured to a roof several buildings
over where the group of Oric watched their conversation with close
interest. Florian’s face became even more ashen, but before he
could voice any more complaints she had moved them into the middle
of a nearby dry cleaning shop. The Vampire gave her a puzzled look
while she explained.

“Whine, whine
all about clean suit. You want a clean suit,” she gestured to the
full rack, “here are many clean suits.”

Florian the
fashion plate gave her an offended glare. “You cannot just take any
suit. Mine have been tailored especially for me by Zhismi and these
will not be of the same quality.”

Taking an apple
from her pocket, she took a large bite before holding it out to
enjoy the distaste adorning his face as he repulsed her offer.

She shrugged
her response. “You take a suit and you leave a suit. I don’t see
what be wrong.”

“No, you
wouldn’t,” grumbled an irritated Vampire.

He started
pushing the bags of clean suits out of his way while moving towards
the door when one fell into his hands as he went to return it the
label caught his eye.

“A Lorendeck,
that’s strange. You wouldn’t expect to find one of these here.”

Zyre nodded as
if she understood his appreciation of what was to her no more than
a bunch of fabric. She pulled a polka dot dress over her clothes
and once free of the tangle of fabric saw Florian had availed
himself of the coveted Lorendeck. As if remembering something he
grabbed his phone to type into it quickly before scanning the
screen intently.

A curious Elf
asked, “What’s that?”

“It’s an online
auction,” he explained.

“You buying an
Accord?”

“No, no, this
is a human thing. You can get all sorts of goods this way only you
pay for them—not like—,” he waved at the clothes, “the Elf way of
getting stuff. You use a credit card from your House.”

“Hmmm...,” Zyre
gave him a saucy grin causing the alarmed Vampire to turn off his
phone.

Half an hour
later they were back at the mansion to discover an incensed
Estienne waiting for them. Florian quailed under the ice-cold eyes
of his Herald, but the Elf was not fussed as she had enough of
impending Ancients for one day.

The Herald took
in her polka dot splendour before demanding through clenched teeth,
“Did you not hear my direct orders or do you just not care and
chose to interfere with Vampire business anyway?”

Zyre folded her
arms because there were other things that were more important than
a Vampire in throes of emotion was. “There was no disobey, I
visited a new friend called Galt.”

The mention of
his name froze both Vampires as Estienne gave her a stark look.
“You went where?”

Thoughts were a
jumble in her mind since she had no idea what to tell to whom and
she certainly wasn’t going to cater to Vampire sensibilities.

“We were on the
street,” she pointed to Florian. “He wanted new suit, so we went
clothes choosing and Galt was walking.”

Florian gave
her a confused glare because the Vampire had no idea what she was
saying, “I never saw him there.”

Zyre shrugged.
“Maybe he wasn’t then.”

Estienne eyed
the Elf with her changing story, the pair of them with their new
wardrobe as Florian muttered Lorendeck weakly. The Herald took a
few seconds to compose his thoughts and Zyre was aware the energy
of his rage was not just about chasing after Revenants. There was
the sliver of relief, of possession in his eyes once he saw she had
arrived back intact.

Estienne nodded
to Zyre, “Follow me,” before turning upon his heel.

Florian begged
as she went to follow the Herald, “Please find a new friend.”

Estienne barely
waited for the door to close before he whirled on her with little
of his demon fire under control.

“You put
yourself at risk and not just with a Revenant, but also Galt. He is
not like Florian and an Aunsin is not one to engage.”

Zyre wasn’t
about to take his orders, even if they were layered within concern.
“Perhaps tis an Elf that should not be engaged, since I fear no
Vampire.”

Her obvious
scorn of his kind made him flinch, but Zyre narrowed her eyes
because she believed the Vampires would use her anyway they wished.
If it suited to toss her back to Vryn Dhaigre they would do just
that. Estienne reached out as if to take her hand, but stopped
himself halfway.

“Not all of us
would hand you over the demon.”

His face hid
the emotions his heart could not deny and while she felt his pain
she could not relieve it. He was too close to his demon
transformation and she dared not be kind.

“We shall see,”
was her lilting reply.

She disappeared
back into the garden to discover the yard cat toying with a half
crazed mouse. The cat let go of the mouse to watch it languidly
through half-closed eyes as the tiny creature fought to escape.
Before the mouse could find refuge the cat reached out her paw to
hold down the terrified creature as the slow twitch of her tail
signified her enjoyment of the torture. The Elf grabbed hold of her
tail, the mouse took advantage of the diversion to scuttle back
into the undergrowth leaving the cat to fix the glow of feline
hatred upon Zyre. Zyre pacified the cat with an Elf purr, stroking
her back until she settled comfortably on her warmth for the night.
As she patted the cat the small tug of memory came flooding back
and she realised that it was not just the presence of Galt that had
disturbed her. It was the fleeting glimpse she had seen earlier
when watching the Tyro pass near by the doorway to the Reveal. It
was here she had seen two figures, one was the slender meticulously
attired Vampire called Galt, the other with a bulky presence that
couldn’t be denied. The being with the cloak was as bulky as a
Varkja, but there was no ignoring the wave of dark hair showing
from under the hood. The assignation had been with a Martyc. Zyre
watched the cat half close her eyes while her tail swished in rapid
discontent. She considered the intrigues of the Reveal and had to
admit that of all beings—at least the cat had the honesty to show
her treacherous nature up front.

The Elders

As Vampires
aged, they acquired some wisdom or none, they became more demonic
in abilities, and they remained powerful beings. As humans aged
they became wiser or not, they became physically fragile, and they
remained unique individuals. As demons aged, they observed wisdom,
which was used or not, became more powerful in abilities, and
remained individual in their agendas. As the magical being aged,
they were aware of wisdom that they were unlikely to apply, they
acquired unique capacities, but it was their appearance that
altered in the strangest manner. Most magical beings as they aged
tended to look alike, and this resulted in the blanket term of
Elder to explain the clone like appearance of many of their older
citizens. When it came to an Elder, the viewer often couldn’t tell
if they were addressing Pixie, Fairy, or Elf as Gnomes only grew
longer beards and Goblins remained ugly. While the available wisdom
might not always be used in their daily life, the fractured
neurosis that afflicted them in youth tended to dominate less with
age.

Technically the
Elders were not an elected group, although they functioned as
politicians selling their wheeling and dealing to the public. In
reality, they ruled by default as the younger of their kind didn’t
cope with the paranoia redolent of the Reveal. They took the job
because no one else wanted it, not when the fun of the Reveal was
enticing them to misbehave. The majority of Elders were Elves since
they seem to age the best, had the most useful diplomatic skills
from their travels, and when in doubt they could usually seduce an
avenging demon into abandoning their plans. They were a parliament
of Mata Hari, Cleopatra and Salome, cajoling, charming and seducing
to keep their world intact for to the outward eye they never looked
older—only more beautiful. Locally the Elders were famous for
pronouncements of no appeal, where the populace were given strange
tasks to complete while asked to sacrifice themselves for some
esoteric agenda. The Elders might have abandoned the neurosis of a
fractured youth, but they embraced the illogical verdicts of minds
never fully on task.

Aware that
their people had no appreciable sense of patriotism, partly
inherent, partly due to the ridiculous governing techniques of the
Elders, the government soon found the masses avoided volunteering
for duties. The younger beings might be skittish, unreliable and
fairly lunatic, but they were not fools. They knew their government
would abandon them in a heartbeat, and so remained reticent while
demands for their help fell on deaf ears. The Elders did not become
Elder by stupidity and the same fortitude that helped them to
survive their internal battles, guided them through the silent
rebellion of their public. They resorted to subterfuge to gain
their goals, and when they wished a certain being to do a certain
task then they formed an appropriate story to induce cooperation.
Not all situations involved lies, not all lies were bad, but it
took a fairly well informed creature to work out the difference
between their world under threat and political intrigues.

The one
creature the Elders ironically had the most difficulty in gaining
any collaboration from was the Elf. For all their centuries of
experience, they seemed to have distanced themselves from their
roots while forgetting the most basic premise of the
mischievous—never play a player. The Elf, the merry prankster of
the magical world could scent a lie from an offender before it
filled the air between them. Elves loved to fib and they told them
not to manipulate, but because it was a form of short story
telling—except it involved them and the truth. The Elders, trapped
in a vacuum created by centuries of maintaining a foreign peace had
locked themselves into a useless battle of control with their own
people. They used secretive and counterfeit events to dominate
resulting in a realm where civic responsibility had become the
encumbrance of a fool.

Discovering
that they were policing a realm that did as little as possible to
cooperate they didn’t face an outright anarchy, but more of a pause
before citizens resumed their exploits. Elders were forever being
asked by offended outsiders to clean up the messes of their people
off world. Pixies lured by the promise of gin wound up stirring up
a den of thieves with a not so subtle theft of their own. Fairies
sent off world often took the brutal approach of demon
attack—sometimes killing those they were sent to threaten gently.
Elves were the worst for while none bothered much over the loss of
a few of the scourge they delighted in annoying the Empire. It was
as if she was addicted to Martyc wrath and the being she should
avoid the most. The Elf, due to biological imperative or lunacy,
often sought out the local Xatn for torment. This often would
result in complaints made about whatever mischief she employed, but
as Elves were compelled to annoy the Martyc—the demons were
compelled to object half-heartedly in return. Though complaints
poured in against their citizens it was universally acknowledged as
useless because there had never been a recorded sanction against
one of their own. It was surmised that the vigilance of Martyc
protests served no more purpose than the hope to see the errant Elf
once again.

The Elders
served a thankless task upon a thankless world and had they cared
for the appreciation of others they were not about to get it. The
magical nature was not one that traversed the paths of virtue or
reward as they spent a misguided youth wanting nothing for they
wanted for nothing. Everything a magical being ever required was
right in their own backyard because the Elders had told them this
forever.