by James Somers
And I did. Tom knew about these things that I was only just beginning to have any knowledge of. Beside the fact that he had saved me from the hanging and looked after me ever since.
“Is there something they’re afraid of, maybe a place where they won’t go?” I asked. “I’m assuming the sunlight thing doesn’t bother them since Sinister goes out during the day.”
“True,” Tom said. “A lot of that stuff was made up by people. Sunlight doesn’t bother the Breed at all, though their appearance is harder to mask in the sunlight. Right now, I wish it would kill them. We could take a portal and come out around the world where it’s daylight.”
“Then what?”
Tom looked around us, searching for the Breed in pursuit. “You need some understanding of your power, Brody,” he said. “If something happens to me, you’ve got to be able to defend yourself. You’re powerful, even if you don’t yet know how to use it. I saw the gleam in Black’s eyes when you turned that fire back on him.”
“So what?” I said. “It was just a dumb test.”
“Not dumb. Revealing!” Tom said. “Not many have that power; especially not when Mr. Black is the one testing you. I couldn’t have done it.”
That statement gave me pause since I considered Tom to be quite gifted with these abilities. “So what do I do?”
“Think about what you want,” he said. “Form your desire in your mind and then push out into the real world with it. The power is there waiting to respond. It’s really not that hard once you get used to doing it.”
“Like riding a bicycle?”
Tom smiled. “Sure, like that. It requires balance, energy and lots of practice. But, once you’ve got it, you never forget!”
“I think I can do it, if I just had time to practice,” I said, feeling a bit more confident.
“Let me see your hand,” Tom said.
I held it out to him palm up. “Why?”
He produce a little pocket knife and slashed it across my palm quick as a flash. I cried out, clutching the wound as blood welled up around my fingers. Before I could say anything, Tom had done the same to his own hand. He grabbed my wound, clasping them together palm to palm.
“If we should become separated, I want you to search for someone who might help you. But just in case you’re ever unable to find me, remember this scar. It’s a blood bond. You’ll be able to come to me, or I to you as long as we both live.”
“Who is it I’m to look for?” I asked.
“Oliver James,” he said. “Don’t forget that name. He’s not associated with Black or Sinister, but he’s very knowledgeable, if you know what I mean.”
“If you say so, but can’t you show me some things quickly right now?” I asked.
Tom grinned in his mischievous way. “No time, mate,” he said. “The Breed are already here.”
I looked up instinctively, searching the buildings at our back. Thinking back now this is what Tom had expected. While I was distracted, he quickly grabbed my hand performed a transformation spell and pushed against me with all of his strength. My body was already changing as I fell backward over the retaining wall, plunging down into the dark water of the Thames.
Apparition
Charlotte soared high over London, keeping her distance from the hunt happening below. Vampires were now closing a circle upon their prey, the majority beginning to move toward the river where tonight’s bright moon was reflected in ever shimmering tones. Her brother was among them, organizing the chase.
It was never wise to run from the Breed. They had their ways. Of all the Descendants of the Fallen, they had the keenest sense of smell, not to mention the rare ability to see the body heat of their prey. One might get a good head start, perhaps even a city away, and still not lose them once they were on your scent.
Her raven form did not descend toward the river; not yet. She was looking for a perch where she could have a good vantage point over what was about to happen. Steeples were wonderful things, but none were available in this district of the city. However, the Breed were going to ground as they closed in. If she only remained above them atop a building, she could then see what had caused so many to be out tonight.
That they might be pursuing her friend and ally, Oliver James, crossed her mind, but Mr. Black had never done that before. It was well known by both parties that Oliver had no fear of the Breed. His great power had proven to be more than they could handle on a number of occasions over the years. It seemed unlikely that he was their prey tonight.
So who?
Charlotte’s raven form glided down, still trailing leisurely behind the enveloping presence of the Breed ahead. She heard the first explosion then, coming from a place near the river. She perched upon a beam standing out from the rest of a ramshackle construction and watched.
She spied someone running below. The Breed were in pursuit. Charlotte gasped, realizing that she knew this person; had even been at one time close to this person.
“Tom?”
But how could it be him? Tom had long been her brother’s closest companion and confidante. Why would the Breed be chasing him? Still, it did explain why Sinister had been so agitated.
As the Breed closed in, Tom attempted to evade them by phasing in and out of dimensions; disappearing then reappearing in different locations. Normally, the Breed could follow, but there was no need. Tom wasn’t materializing very far from the places where he passed from the physical world.
Tom was a master of deception. As an elf, he had a particular flare for creating in spiritual realms like Faerie, as well as the ability to create portals to and from. He could shape shift especially well also, but he did not possess highly defensive abilities. His specialty lay in covert operations rather than overt.
The Breed were closing in. Charlotte wondered why Tom didn’t attempt a greater leap from the mortal world, take the chase into Faerie where he could more easily evade his pursuers, or disguise himself beyond all recognition. She knew that he was too good at what he did to not see a way out. It was almost like he wanted them to catch him.
Charlotte remained on her perch until she could stand it no more. She flew away from the building, plunging down toward the fray. Her brother had warned her to remain out of the situation, but this was more personal than she had realized.
Tom stood cornered against a building, watching as the Breed warriors closed in from all sides. Sinister was at the forefront now, walking toward his second in command with a disappointed look upon his face. Charlotte lit upon the pavement right behind him.
“Brother, what are you doing?” she cried.
Sinister halted in his place, turning on Charlotte, his anger burning even hotter now. “I told you to stay out of this!”
“Why are you chasing Tom?” she asked, walking right up to him. “He has always remained loyal to you.”
“Hello, Charlotte,” Tom called light-heartedly, as if he were calling on a friend for tea.
“He was loyal,” Sinister said, grinding his teeth as he turned back to Tom. “Where is the boy? Don’t you realize Black will kill you for this?”
“What boy?” Charlotte asked.
The Breed warriors glared at Charlotte. She was considered an outcast by most of their kind, though no one was willing to attack her. She was Sinister’s sister, but she was also a cunning warrior. So, they did their best to ignore her unless she directly interfered.
Sinister ignored her as well, keeping his attention on Tom. “After all that I’ve done for you,” Sinister said, “this is the thanks I get?”
Tom fired back at him. “The boy was innocent. He knows nothing about who he is or this war! He should have been left alone. Black did not need to know about him.”
“Unlike you, I’m loyal to my master, Tom,” Sinister said.
“You’re his puppet!” Tom shot back.
Sinister’s arm whipped out to snatch Tom by the throat. Tom’s form fell apart into the bodies of thousands of cockroaches, all of them scurrying
in every imaginable direction. Some had landed on Sinister and the other Breed warriors who were all swiping the miserable creatures away. Some flew into the darkness, while others disappeared into the crevasses in the wall and cracks in the pavement and anywhere else they could go.
Charlotte attempted to track him by heat, but Tom was too clever. Even if he had possessed body heat in this form, he was too small for even the Breed to find him, and he had left too much distraction behind. Only one of the roaches, Charlotte knew, had been the real Tom. The other thousands had simply bought him the time he needed to escape.
In his fury, Sinister began stomping at the minute beasts, but they simply evaporated beneath his boots; mere mirages. He turned back to Charlotte, giving up on a lost cause as his Breed warriors continued their futile attempt at crushing the right one.
She grinned at him, something she rarely ever did. “Clever.”
Sinister stared at her for only a moment. “But will it do him any good against Black?”
Sinister transformed into his raven form, leaping into the sky away from her. The other Breed grudgingly gave up on Tom. Within moments they had left the area as silently as ghosts. Only Charlotte remained, puzzled by Tom’s dissidence and the mysterious boy they had mentioned. Whoever he was, he was worth Black’s time, and that would be something Oliver would want to know about.
There was no pain as my body began to conform to the animal form that Tom had chosen for me at that last moment before hurling me toward the rushing river below. In fact, had I not already experienced several transformations by now, I would not even have realized the sensation was anything more than mild dizziness. But that could have been from falling.
That sensation, like I was plummeting from a building toward the pavement, was the most terrifying. Then the shock of cold enveloped me. The dark water immediately swept me away into its unrelenting rush.
I attempted to fight the current, but it was difficult to see anything around me. However, after being tumbled about for what seemed an eternity, I began to swim with the river. I breached the water’s surface, taking in air; though it seemed I should have drowned by now. Still, it was air and a welcome sensation to my lungs.
Whatever Tom had transformed me into, for I had no mirror to see myself, I was at least a mammal having lungs. Upon inspection, using the bright moon as my lamp, I found brown fur and clawed appendages. I had seen similar creatures but needed to be sure. Checking my posterior, I found a paddle for a tail. Tom had left me safe in the guise of a beaver.
However, I could not remain in the river forever. At the very least, Tom had sacrificed himself for me. I had to do something, somehow, to help him. I only hoped it wouldn’t be too little too late.
Steadily, I swam across the current carrying me further and further away from the place where Tom had dumped me into the Thames. After nearly ten minutes of swimming, I finally reached a bank where I could take my leave of the river. Using my beaver claws and strong tail for final momentum, I surged out of the water onto the muddy bank. I had no idea where I was; if I was even still in London at all.
Crawling up higher where cool grass awaited me I stretched out. I could feel the familiar itch across my skin and dizziness in my head. The form of a beaver began to change again, returning me to my human self. Though still wet and cold, I sighed with relief when I gazed once again upon normal hands with five fingers.
Shivering took me over immediately. Though human again, I wasn’t as well equipped for wet and cold as the beaver had been. My first order of business was to find some way to get warm. I would be less than useless to Tom if I ended up freezing to death after all of his effort on my behalf.
I wandered toward civilization, my teeth chattering the entire way. At some point, buildings began to close around me again. Though I had no idea where in London I was, I did know that I was in the city. However, without Tom’s guidance, I quickly realized that I had no hope of finding my way.
When I could stand it no more I sat down within a lonely alleyway near a row of very nice homes. I appeared to be in a completely different part of the city. There were no tenements to be found. Everything was very upscale. Yet, I remained on the outside, impoverished and cold.
I sat beneath a window where within a lantern burned. To feel the warmth of it was my greatest desire at that moment. Without really understanding how I was doing it, I drew from the heat of that flame, filling myself with its life sustaining warmth. The chill within my members began to gradually but surely fade until I could actually move my fingers and toes again.
I remained there, staring at that flame, sustaining the connection to it for as long as I was awake. I had little understanding of how this power worked beyond what Tom had been able to tell me. But I was grateful for even that minute knowledge. Undoubtedly, it was the only thing that got me through that night alive.
Lucidity
Waking from sleep, or so I had assumed at first, I arose while the moon was still clearly seen, though it had moved across the night sky by now. A wall stood before me. The lantern from which I had drawn heat still burned in the window high up. Everything seemed to be as it had been when I had lost consciousness, except for the fact that my clothes were now dry and the cold had abated somewhat.
Then a portal opened up in the wall before me. No door had appeared, but the bricks rotated inward toward an opening that revealed only more darkness. I felt no fear of entering through this portal despite having no way of knowing what lay beyond. I do not even remember the six steps that ushered me inside.
At once, I was walking down a long winding corridor where mirrors hung in space at odd angles. Each mirror cast my own reflection back at me. However, each reflection bore some strange characteristic meant to represent me in a different way.
The first showed me a likeness with at least twenty years of age added. My shoulders were broad, my hair neatly trimmed though showing a little evidence of thinning. The most striking characteristic, though, was my eyes and my expression. This image bore a strikingly fierce countenance. These eyes had seen many hard things; things that cause a man’s heart to become calloused. The image faded as I walked on.
The next mirror showed me as I was, perhaps a year or two older but no more. However, I was hideously deformed, as though I had been mauled by some terrible beast. If not for the constant involuntary twitching, I would have assumed this poor creature was dead. I moved on quickly, trying to reconcile the images I was seeing.
How could one mirror show me well-aged and fierce of countenance while another cast me at no greater age and all but lying stone cold in my grave? Both reflections could not be true. However, they might both represent possibilities.
The next mirror did not cast me a reflection, but instead showed my father and mother sitting together. My mother’s eyes wandered toward a dark shadow moving across the wall behind them, threatening to envelope them both completely. My father did not appear to notice this element at all. Again the image faded, promoting my continuance on the path this corridor led.
Each successive mirror was the same in theme, showing me scenes that either directly connected with my life and family, or probably did even if I wasn’t aware how. I saw our steamer trip though my father and I sailed toward dark clouds on the horizon. I saw Tom hiding among the trees of a dense and evil looking forest.
I saw Mr. Black sitting in his office near a roaring blaze that licked at his form while the shadow behind him rose up monstrously with great outspread wings. The last two were of people I was sure I had never met. The first was of a young girl, perhaps a year or two older, with deathly pale skin. She was perched upon the head of a stone gargoyle looking out over London.
I could not take my eyes off of her. Like the other images, this one was animated. The girl turned her head to look at me. I felt as though she could actually see me in that moment. Her beauty was unlike anyone I had ever seen: rich milky skin with amber curls flowing across her shoulders. Her eyes were perhaps her
most striking feature. At one moment they were golden in color, almost glowing. The next moment they showed a radiant crimson.
I gasped at the change, stepping back as I realized she must be one of the Breed, like those who had been chasing Tom and me. But how could a creature of such beauty be from among so deadly and vile a people?
Guilt filled my mind. I had judged the girl in the image based only upon my limited knowledge of her Breed. At the very least, I had something in common with her and others like her in that I was somehow also one of these Descendants of the Fallen.
The image of the girl faded as she turned back to her overlook of the London skyline. I walked away, finding a final mirror holding the image of an older man whom I assumed must be another look at my possible future years from now. However, upon closer inspection I saw that this man’s eyes were a deep blue where mine had always been brown, matching my hair. Still, he bore a close resemblance to the former aged image of me. A relative, perhaps?
He wore a beard with flecks of gray streaking through it and a top hat that obscured his hairline. Other than the regal manner and resemblance to my older self, the only distinguishing characteristic was the man’s black cane. A silver wolf’s head adorned the handle.
Strangely, the man was positioned similarly, overlooking the London skyline. Only he and the beautiful Breed girl had been envisioned this way. Could they be acquaintances, or fighting on the same side against the others. Without more information, there was no way to know.
The man’s image faded like the others. The corridor lighting in my dream faded a moment later. When light returned I was standing in an elegant dining room with a feast laid out before me. A full length mirror stood in the corner.
It seemed like an eternity since the wonderful meal that the angel had brought to me. I rushed to the table, taking in the delicacies with my eyes. My hands trembled with hunger. Cakes, pies and pastries mingled with roast beef, turkey, potatoes and gravy.
I grabbed meat anxiously, devouring handfuls. A spoon in the whipped potatoes was dipped through the gravy bowl on its way to my eager mouth. A cookie covered with chocolate and sugar then a piece of cherry pie. All of them were as flavorful and scrumptious as I’d ever remembered them being. Nothing I hated was on the table, only favorites throughout my childhood.
