Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (17 page)

She followed
with reluctance while he took her up the small back staircase used
by the Zhismi into a wing at the front of the house. He opened a
door with pride to reveal a large suite filled with luxury items
whose opulence immediately oppressed her. The room held dark heavy
furniture made by craftsmen that Zyre considered must have been in
an awful funk, yet Florian gazed at the lumps of wood with great
reverence. An ornate sofa, so hard that looked like it was stuffed
with dead beetles, was against one wall while imposing wardrobes
that looked like fossilised sentries kept watch over the bed. There
was a bed—the likes she had never seen before—of epic proportions
dressed in crisp linen that looked every bit as uncomfortable as
the nasty sofa. Large French doors, each glass pane sparkling in
the moonlight, opened onto a curved balcony overlooking the front
garden.

“This is one of
our best suites; it offers you private facilities…,” he faltered as
if uncertain if she required the use of a bathroom. “Here is an
uninterrupted view of the drive and your own sitting area.”

She walked onto
the balcony overlooking the artificial paving of the front drive
where the ordered garden was enclosed by a huge brick wall broken
only by a pair of stark iron gates. Everything was ugly, wrong,
like a prison, and she stepped back into the room shaking her
head.

“No,” she
rejected.

Pastel green
eyes gave her an uneasy stare as he repeated her rejection as a
query. “No?”

“No,” she said
once more.

“But this is
one of our finest rooms.” He protested as he ran about pointing out
the luxury of the contents. “The linen is the finest Egyptian
cotton, the curtains hand dyed silk, the furniture antique
oak.”

Zyre could have
explained to him that the room with its plush overstuffed, over
furnished clutter suffocated her. The location of the room facing
the road beyond was unfriendly and unattractive because she didn’t
require knowledge of arrivals since she could read the reactions of
those within. Instead her eyes flashed teal, silencing the Vampire
and his obsession with luxury. Leading the way she wandered
throughout the floors until she came to a smaller room facing the
garden. Choosing garden access from a balcony would seem poor fare
compared to larger rooms of crammed elegance. She faced the
greenery and the mantle of nature enveloped her in calm because for
her the bark of shrubs glistening under a spring moon, the scurry
of nocturnal life, the sad droop of sleeping flowers was
elegance.

“This be nice,”
she said.

She ignored
Florian shuffling his concern in the doorway, except she knew a
lackey when she saw one and he was no longer of import to her. The
demands of the Ghuvk would come from one of authority and that
would be his Herald. Estienne would be the one to enlighten Zyre
upon what was expected in exchange for sanctuary. Florian gave up
trying to change her mind and left the Elf to whatever fascination
the garden was offering from the window. Once alone Zyre laid a
hand upon the cool glass which vibrated slightly under her
fingertips and she closed her eyes to read the atmosphere of the
house. The Vampires, ensnared between inquisitive and affront,
discussed her presence in whispers that entwined themselves into
the fabric of the house allowing her to read their emotions. She
sensed no immediate danger, which permitted her to relax. Like all
creatures whose only concern was their own she ignored any
expectation of social niceties before wandering back down into the
depths occupied by the Zhismi.

Zyre stood
before the door leading to the quarters of the gypsy guardians of
Vampire interests and allowed herself the pleasure of unnoticed
observation. The low-key nature of their communications with the
restraint of their curiosity revealed that these workers took
strange events in their stride for a life amongst those from the
Reveal could only be but unique. The strange magical being with the
capacity to learn a language within days, yet still be unable to
follow the rules in a simple game of cards focused upon their
conversation. This incongruity was added to the list of magical
abilities that infuriated an infatuated demon universe that had to
struggle for everything they acquired.

“Paramitsha,”
was a comment.

“Tatcho,” the
reply.

She heard words
murmured in the warm kitchen and drawn to their humanity Zyre
slipped through the door with the silent grace of a cat—to hide in
plain sight. It was the same child from the garden that noticed
what the surrounding adults did not. Stopping his play he took two
apples from a basket and offered one to the silent guest. Zyre had
two options, either ignore the proffered gift and remain hidden, or
acknowledge the generous gesture leaving the decision not
difficult. Zyre reached out for the fruit startling the room, which
fell into an uncertain silence since those present had never
experienced a magical being. They waited with an uneasy expectation
of service while staring in awe at a creature few had the privilege
of viewing.

Zyre liked
watching the Zhismi as their close knit and supportive interactions
gave vibrant contrast to the Vampire whispers of intermingled
self-interest and fear. Unlike the humanity she had previously
observed the Zhismi appeared to have found satisfaction within
their world and this intrigued the magical interloper. She wandered
about the kitchen viewing the simmering pots of food served to
masters no longer reliant or appreciative of their sustenance. She
dipped a finger into a vegetable medley and licked it as a
mischievous grin danced upon her lips. The Zhismi youths returned
her smile because they couldn’t control their reaction to the
infectious joy she exuded. The older Zhismi, tempered by experience
with oddities from the Reveal, eyed the magical being with wary
eyes. While the reputation of unfathomable violence that followed
demons was not attached to the magical their irrepressible urge to
create havoc was. Therefore, those who encountered these
unpredictable creatures remained unguarded at their own peril. Zyre
would have preferred to stay and enjoy her effect upon those she
toyed with, but the cluttered rush of emotions from the front of
the house caught her attention.

The Vampires
assembled in the foyer to greet the newly returned guests Estienne
brought with him and the crush gave the Elf the ability to hide
amongst the excited chatter.

“No Ashre for
Estienne, he’s going to Herald for another year because Janus is up
for Ghuvk.”

“A Ghuvk from
Veraign—it’s about time!”

Deciding there
was nothing interesting in the speculations of prestige she
accommodated herself in the large study at the back of the foyer.
She knew it belonged to the Herald for she could feel the authority
of one in control saturating the fabric and bond to the wood. She
gave the leather sofa a glare of distaste and settled upon the
cloth ottoman while occupying herself with the sombre paintings
upon the walls. Vampires, in their attempt to form a history of
their own, had continued the traditions of their human roots and
decided to honour those who had become Aunsin with a series of
disturbing portraits. The objective of these renderings was no
doubt to be a tribute to those who survived the turmoils of the
Change and persevered until Ancient status. The reality of the
glowering images was the revelation of intense pallid beings with
little connection left to the world that honoured them. They were
in fact the Vampire of mythology with their demonic conversion
nearly complete.

It didn’t take
the soon to be Aunsin long to find her as she knew the enhanced
powers from his nearing demon state would allow him to feel her
presence easily. If the Herald was affronted by discovering the Elf
in his private sanctum he made no comment. With his snow blonde
hair, blue eyes rapidly being overrun by silver, and porcelain
skin, Estienne—an ice Vampire—stood as an eerie pallid spectre
against the warmth of the wood panels. The frosty demeanour of his
physical being was reflected in the cold silver blue of his eyes
until they met emerald green. Upon first glance, Zyre knew this was
not a Vampire easily bothered, but she also knew the desire of men
because it had been following her about since she left home.

He was only an
evolutionary step behind the one she had seen with the coffee eyes,
with both nearly evolved into the demon the mutation would create.
Though he might not have the means to harm her directly, she did
require the sanctity of a secure abode while she considered her
next move.

Estienne
crossed the room to sit behind the huge desk that had his back to
the vast window facing the garden. It was obvious from his lack of
security that there was little he had left to fear in this world.
His air of authority was unmistakable and to the Elf unremarkable
as she cared little for the tiers of hierarchy. Her concerns were
of a more practical nature, where to find sweet, avoiding Vryn, how
long she could annoy the Vampires without becoming homeless.
Estienne’s aloof regard for his visitor may have fooled his
contemporaries, but when ice blue eyes met the kaleidoscope of
magical she could feel his body tense as he controlled the reaction
her presence. Attaining Ancient status meant his downfall as it now
rendered him susceptible to demon weakness and Elves were
definitely one of those. Zyre could have repressed the urge to
exploit his demon response to her as she had enough of romantic
demons. But the foolish Vampire was pretending she had no power, so
her eyes became an emerald gleam while he shuffled through the
papers on his desk.

“I am Estienne
Morel—Herald of the House of Veraign.”

He removed an
obvious missive from the Ghuvk from the pile and when he looked up
the blue depth of his eyes was hidden by demon ice.

“The Council of
Aeternus wishes to extend the hospitality of the House of Veraign
for as long as you require.”

The Elf, lost
in her capricious interior, smiled as her floral essence invaded
the room. “Tis be thanks.”

“There
are....”

He paused and
fumbled for a second before continuing in a voice desperate with
arrogance. “The Ghuvk understand that the magical world doesn’t
operate within the same constraints as the Vampire and requests
that you continue to respect the Veil. The Council furthermore asks
that there be no obstruction of Vampiric interests, that the tenets
of the House of Veraign be obeyed, and the hindrance of any Zhismi
is prohibited—.”

If Estienne was
to voice any thoughts at this moment it would be of the futility of
reading a list of expectations to a creature that had no intent of
observing them. Zyre had listened up to the word hospitality and
then her eyes became a kaleidoscope of colour merging between blue
and green. She tuned out Estienne and instead listened to the
broken threads of excited Vampire gossip as parted friends caught
up with their lives.

“The House was
exquisite, tapestry everywhere and the artwork— makes this place so
provincial.”

“You would
never guess who is Herald in the mountains, make you laugh it
will....”

Her eyes
cleared back into green and the stony set of Estienne’s face showed
he was well aware that he had lost his audience for most of the
speech.

He finished the
formality of reading the document before asking, “Any questions? Do
you understand the terms?”

With the
strange capacity to return to the task she queried Estienne
directly, “How will you keep the Martyc and the Varkja at bay? They
go where they will in this world and they own what they see.”

Her assumption
that the Vampire was not master of his own world, the same
assumption made by those who crossed the Reveal, caused his eyes to
flash with anger. She saw him grapple with his new demon passion as
fury and desire battled for expression within the leash of
duty.

“The demons are
guests within our world and it is in their interest to protect the
Veil, which in turn protects their assets. Therefore, no demon
trespasses upon the property of Vampire, nor approaches those under
the protection of the Ghuvk. As long as you respect those who
provide you sanctuary, if you can, then you are safe from demon
interference.”

His tone was
imperious and scornful as the Vampire addressed her with a
disrespect that would have had a demon shoved off a cliff. Zyre
examined the atmosphere between them and felt a creature not in
control of the new passions raging within. His persona torn between
the disregard of the new and the pride of the past tempered her
annoyance enough for her to settle upon a lesser revenge. She stood
up and placed her hand upon his arm giving him the intensity of her
close proximity and this refusal to grow up was what often got her
into trouble. Even if she accepted responsibility for what she was
doing the knowledge of his inner struggle for self-control was too
delicious to ignore. Arrogance, Vampire, or demon, had a price when
targeted at a magical being.

“Tis so, tis
so,” her ruby lips curled and the wisps of his desire followed her
back into the empty foyer.

Back in her
bedroom, she stood on the balcony and watched the first rays of
light peek into the night sky. Her chase for sanctuary had started
under the smooth silk of dusk and was settled under the warm satin
of dawn. She had been tempted to query the Herald about the Velare
Ball and enjoy what would have been an apoplectic reaction, but she
saved this bit of amusement for later. The Vampire excitement wound
down as they retired to their own rooms and she was left alone with
the almost inaudible clatter of Zhismi. She could feel him before
she heard him, the small patter of a small being, and she opened
the door before he announced himself. Now in his pyjamas the Zhismi
boy stood solemnly in the doorway holding firmly onto the apple she
had accepted earlier. She smiled at a child with no concept of the
danger of his reality. She took a large bite of the apple and
winked at her new friend who gave her a conspiratorial grin before
running back down to the Zhismi area.