Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (13 page)

**********

Time flies,
death urges, knells call,

Heaven
invites,

Hell
threatens.

Edward
Young

Left alone on
the street Zyre was contemplating an immediate dissolve when the
noise of an approaching car had her wait to see what Afir had
meant. The taxi rolled up and the human driver unwound his window
exhibiting his knowledge of the Reveal with the curt question.

“You the
Elf?”

Zyre shoved the
card and money at him before dissolving onto the backseat of the
smelly cab, but her suddenly overwrought senses had her leave as
rapidly as she had entered. The driver twisted around in time to
watch his passenger disappear—only to jump when she tapped him on
the shoulder from the outside.

“Your carriage
smells like death.”

“Tell me about
it.” He replied in a bored tone.

“Very well,”
she started. “The seats are covered with fabric not real, the floor
has the foul stench of demon, and the colour is not at all
pretty.”

The driver
shoved the money into his belt. “Look, either you want a ride or
not, same difference to me.”

Not knowing her
destination the Elf returned to the cab and the driver took off as
if the demons she complained about were in chase. The acceleration
threw her back onto the seat and she giggled as if enjoying an
amusement park ride. The rough swaying as he cut corners was
nothing more than fun for a being that could leave at the first
sign of trouble. After snaking through traffic on several roads he
came to an abrupt stop outside a small florist in the middle of a
row of shops. Their outdated signs showed an era slowly fading into
obscurity as giant malls of the city grew up around them. Left on
the side of the road without explanation Zyre could smell the life
within because not even the stench of the city could overpower the
bounty beyond the doors. She suspected this was to be her hiding
spot as the other shops were empty and so dissolved inside.

Once amid the
crammed life she allowed the energy of the plants to flow over her,
washing away the artifice and filth of the cab. The overwhelming
perfume of the filled flower shop enticed her into the sweet joy of
a place with the same aroma as her own world. The multitude of
colours and scents that greeted her gave her pause for, as with
every other creature, there was no place like home. She sat amid
the soft petals while their impending death wove itself between the
foliage of those plants lucky enough to remain in pots. Eyeing the
freshly cut stems of the flowers Zyre couldn’t understand why this
world would kill that which brought beauty. Surely the inadequate
span of the plant was a reason enough not to induce premature
death.

The shop was
not large, the big windows crammed with faded silk examples of
available displays and a large counter littered with display books
dominated the small floor of the interior. The back area consisted
of a long table filled with tools and sponges while an entire wall
had a large cool room filled to capacity. Various flowers sat upon
shelves waiting to be made into bouquets. Zyre opened all the doors
to enjoy the scents tumbling over each other as she sampled a few
blooms.

Morning came
and with it the owner, her once pretty face now lined with
discontent as she moved without joy immune to the beauty
surrounding her. The banging disturbed her rest and the Elf spent
the day at the back of the blooms escaping detection by one who
wasn’t interested in anything more than surviving another day.
Unsuspecting of her guest the florist ignored most areas of her
shop spreading her time between the phone calls and dusting silk
arrangements.

As the day
neared end the entrance of a Vampire disturbed her senses and Zyre
knew he was there for her, but mistrustful of the mutants she
stayed hidden. The power of his demon tainted being engulfed the
area until the human blended into the organic background and she
watched him carefully from a wary distance. He was the usual
Vampire perfection, tall with a handsome face, possessing a lithe
body that moved with confident assurance. His strawberry blonde
hair was smoothed back into a sleek helmet and his pastel green
eyes examined the displays with an affected nonchalance. His dress,
if the Elf cared to notice, was obviously tailored with every
aspect of his attire carefully arranged. He wandered about the shop
with an elegant ennui and meretricious self-absorption common of
the world surrounding them. For a moment she considered that
perhaps Afir lied and this Vampire was in the employ of the Martyc.
She struggled with the suspicion but decided the Vampire distaste
of the Empire, combined with all the demons at his disposal meant
it was unlikely Dhaigre would use one for his bidding.

The Vampire
admired several arrangements while his long fingers appreciated the
velvet texture of petals as he leaned over to savour the fragrance
the bouquet offered. His slow pedantic enjoyment of each flower had
Zyre intrigued and the florist impatient—until he requested to view
the most expensive ensembles in the shop.

“What do you
call this lovely display?” his modulated voice spoke of money and
authority.

The florist
beamed with the prospect of selling some of her pricier stock and
Zyre moved further into the gloom because even with a human hiding
had a limited span. She sat with one eye on the rummaging florist
and one on the meandering Vampire who appeared innocent until the
florist came perilously close to a magical discovery. It was at
that moment that the lips of the preternatural customer curled, so
Zyre knew the charade was for her benefit because her presence had
been expected. His game was for his own Vampire amusement as he
toyed with an audience ignorant of their own reality. Fated to be
on the outside always looking in at the various worlds that
surrounded them the Vampire, met with fear or scorn, lived an
eternity without acceptance. Their only power lay in the control of
the Veil, leaving them capricious agendas as their sole means of
betrayal and revenge upon the unexpected and unwelcome visitors
from the Reveal.

“These are King
Protea,” she fussed with them hoping for a sale.

“Exquisite,” he
smirked. “I will take your largest arrangement.”

The Vampire
moved toward the register to finalise the purchase while Zyre
shimmered to the safety of the roofline. The rarity of humans
looking up at the area surrounding them never failed to amaze her.
How it would surprise the world to discover the myriad of exotic
beings living within their view! The Vampire exited the shop with
his purchase, an enormous arrangement, which he carefully carried
before him until an elderly woman crossed his path. Without
explanation he handed the spectacle to the woman—only to disappear
around the corner before she could query her sudden bounty. As the
Elf continued to observe him from a discreet distance she
considered how to approach him, though his purchase had been a way
to make contact she wasn’t the best at politics. Even with her
pathological avoidance of the subject, Zyre was well travelled
enough to know that her agreement with any Vampire House would be
bound within a power struggle.

The edges of
the sun started to dip below the horizon and she considered that if
she was going to accost the Vampire it would be best before night
fell. Vampires didn’t reach their full strength until the weakening
rays of the sun had died leaving speculation that their origins
were from one of the dark realms—dim places with muted suns. Zyre
had no fear of the Vampire at full strength, but one caught in the
last strands of the day would find the truth more difficult to
conceal from her.

Ignored by
those scuttling home after another tedious day of the grind he
settled his elegant frame against the wall and Zyre knew he was
waiting for her to make a move. For a second she pondered the
strange method of communication of loitering that the males of this
world appeared to favour. That the Vampire had found her meant the
Varkja would not be far behind, because little appeared to escape
the demon network. Realising her choices were becoming more limited
the longer she stayed it was time for her to either, discover a
strong alliance, or abscond elsewhere. The Vampire blinked, but for
an Elf that was all the time she would ever need. He jumped
slightly—much to her pleasure—when he noticed the copper haired
girl standing before him. She waited for him to either deceive or
expose because either way his agenda was not going to be to her
advantage. He casually looked down while lighting a cigarette as if
not daring to lose himself in the magic of her presence. Her eyes
melted into a swirl of teal and retreating from the noxious fumes
she coughed exaggeratedly before starting to shimmer—making to
dissolve. Getting the message he threw the offending item down
leaving it to burn on the ground, seeming unwilling to soil his
exclusively shod foot by crushing it.

He spoke
hastily taking her attention from the cigarette. “Allow me to
introduce myself. I am Florian Ribeni of the House of Veraign.”

Zyre remained
silent as his introduction was nothing of value to her for he was a
Vampire, not quite as powerful as the one approaching Aunsin, but
still potent enough. Speculation was not a strong point of magical
beings as it opened a multitude of possibilities, which only added
to the confusion reigning in their minds. Suspicions swirled as she
wondered if he had been sent to keep her away from the Tyro,
punishment for her appearance at Auction, or to hand her over to
the Martyc. His stepping forward banished the thoughts as retreat
had her shimmer again. Grasping that she had set boundaries the
Vampire returned to leaning against the wall.

“Imagine my
surprise when strolling past a florist to discover the delightful
essence of a magical being.”

Impervious to
her silence he continued. “I found myself subject to an
irresistible urge to enjoy a rare encounter with an Elf.”

Scattered and
unpredictable the magical being might be, but obtuse they were not
and Zyre was aware of the tiers of silent intent the Vampire would
never disclose. His attempt to suggest his discovery of her was
accidental had her wonder if all mutants were that dumb at lying.
Zyre gave him a suspicious stare and her response was surprisingly
direct for an Elf.

“Why surprise
when you were sent to find me? Maybe the Ghuvk not be good with
reality—does daylight turn Vampires into dresniqs? Do you really
think you could scent me on this world without my want?”

Undisturbed by
her insult his handsome face broke out in a smile—offering
friendship his eyes didn’t reciprocate. The truth he didn’t want to
disclose escaped through the falsehood of a smile and so she
ignored his fanciful story of the unexpected discovery. His attempt
revealed how little the Vampire world knew about the magical.
Already they had broken the cardinal rule of dealing with an Elf;
never lie to one who lied for the sake of it.

She scoured the
skyline for a Varkja—in case the Vampire was a distraction.

As if reading
her thoughts he protested, “I haven’t been sent by any demon, and
the Martyc doesn’t know you are here.”

His assertion
did little to pacify an Elf ready to run if so much as a whisper of
demon presence touched the winds.

“If he did you
wouldn’t be so happy.” The calmness of her threat made his face
pale.

Vampires were
not protected by spell the Seal of Sere and she could turn entire
Houses to dust with none to intervene—except the Martyc prince that
they were all trying to avoid.

Florian allowed
himself a scowl before delivering his message in a sulky voice.

“The Ghuvk bid
you welcome and mean you no ill will. They extend an invitation for
your company if you choose to grant it.”

Zyre could feel
her choices shrinking and avenues of escape dashed through her mind
as she considered a wealth of worlds to choose from unfortunately,
most of them demon and under the watchful eye of her Martyc
pursuer.

“This be an
invitation for me to visit the Ghuvk?”

He folded his
arms in annoyance, a not unusual sight when watching someone
converse with a magical being. “Not with them, but with a Vampire
House.”

“So this be not
the idea of the Ghuvk?”

He pushed at
his strawberry hair in exasperation. “Yes of course it is except
you are not visiting them exactly—they are offering you a place to
stay.” His voice became sarcastic, “it's called hospitality on this
world.”

“Tis it
now?”

Zyre began
flickering in annoyance because these Vampires were as bad as
dresniq demons. The Vampire, noting his shimmering guest, hurriedly
explained as he watched her cautiously stabilise.

“The Ghuvk
recognises that your unexpected appearance at the Auction the other
night was due to the native curiosity of your people and was not
intent to insult the Vampire Nation. We offer you the opportunity
to explore our world by staying at one of our Houses—it would be an
honour.”

Zyre couldn’t
help herself—she was after all an Elf. “Whose honour, yours or
mine?”

Realising he
was on shaky ground he rushed through the speech. “We realise that
your actions were in part an attempt to avoid the unwanted
attentions of a certain influential demon. The Ghuvk believe that
this particular demon has obtained a powerful stranglehold upon the
economic status of this world and although current relations are
cordial—there are still avenues that need be protected. The Council
protects freedom of choice for all beings.”

The problem
with using florid speeches to address Elves was that they tended to
hear the first three words and the rest droned into a buzzing that
was ignored unless the word sweet or mischief was mentioned. Since
neither had been the Elf yawned at the extravagant diplomacy and
the Vampire seeing he was losing his audience came quickly to the
point.