by S D Simper
“The Nox’Karthan diplomat and I . . .” She merely shrugged, shy to discuss her relationship with a stranger. The candlelight flickered, illuminate across Mereen’s pale face. “We were close.”
Mereen studied her, her beautiful countenance unmarred by the look of scrutiny crossing her features. “Are you always this spacey talking about your lover?”
Flowridia blushed. “Oh, probably.”
“You remind me of my sister,” she said, her wink as teasing as it was alluring. “Come now—I’ve been asking all the questions, and I still have a few good ones. Go on. Ask me anything.”
“You were the who summoned the wolves, right?”
“I was. Most animals don’t trust me. I’ve been sure to foster a close relationships with the few who will.” Across the cave, Mereen lounged against the wall. “Animals are considerably easier for me to spend time with.”
“You talk to animals, and you live in a cave? I thought most vampires were—”
“Insufferable assholes? Certainly, but you lose your entitlement complex once you’ve lived a millennium or so. No, no, Lady Flowridia, I am an oddity, and I know it. I set up temporary homes as needed to fulfill my sworn oath.”
“What oath?”
“I slay vampires.” She placed a dramatic hand on her chest. “From this day, back to my undead birth, I have never tasted unwilling mortal blood.”
Flowridia raised an eyebrow. “But how is that possible?”
“Lots of dead rabbits, sweetie, and depthless spite.”
Mereen hadn’t come within five feet her her—not since reaching the cave. Watching Mereen’s forced serenity suddenly made some sense—the woman was starving. The woman had survived on gruel and hardtack while a feast forever waited within arm’s reach. Even now, she resisted the urge to sink her teeth into Flowridia’s neck. “That’s noble of you. But, why?”
“Now, that’s a story,” Mereen replied. “A good one. Hold on to that question, sweetie. It’s my turn to ask something first.” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “Where are you going?”
“I was going to Neolan, but the God of Order captured me first.” Flowridia frowned. “You knew him.”
“There’ve been many rumors flying around of returned gods and stolen orbs. Staelash is right in the middle of it, yes?”
Flowridia nodded, cold seeping through her core and to her limbs. Mereen knew an awful lot.
“Well, be careful if you end up heading south again. I spotted a slave caravan not three days ago, in the area.” The elf smiled, teeth flashing in the flickering light. “It’s not often I get to speak with such pleasant company. I suppose I should thank your vampire lover for softening your heart toward the cursed dead. Between that and your penchant for necromancy—” She gestured toward Ana. “. . . I’d propose a partnership if you didn’t smell so decadently divine. I’m amazed your love didn’t eat you right up.”
Flowridia blushed. “Well . . .”
Mereen held out a hand. “What you and your love did consensually behind closed doors is none of my business. Now hush. You asked about my oath.” And for the first time, Flowridia saw the age behind Mereen’s ancient eyes. She had joked about millennia . . . Was she truly a thousand years old? “My entire village was burned in a night; I was merely the first to fall. When I awoke as a vampire, my living son was thrown at my feet by the bitch who turned me. He was three years old.” Mereen’s eyes shut, and she released a pained sigh. “In a thousand years and more, nothing has ever smelled sweeter than my baby boy’s blood. And that was when I, newly risen, starving for life, had to make a decision. To be the killer I was apparently destined to be . . . or save an innocent life.”
“And you spared him?” Flowridia offered, and Mereen’s expression softened.
“I took him, and I ran. I couldn’t raise him—the temptation was too much—but I watched him from afar.” Her gaze hardened, rigid lines marring her perfect features. “And if I can spare the one whose blood was sweetest to me, what excuse do these monsters have for killing just for fancy? I know what I am, and I know it is evil.” Her expression suddenly brightened again. “Your friend, the God of Order, isn’t a vampire, so I ultimately consider him not my problem.”
“I still appreciate you saving me,” Flowridia said sincerely.
“You’re a little girl lost in the woods. Now that I know a thing or two about you, you don’t seem quite so little, but my point stands.” She smiled as she stepped gracefully back to the tunnel. Every gesture of Mereen’s was coy and teasing, alluring in ways as natural as the sunset each night. “I would happily talk all night, but I understand if you need to sleep.”
“I think I’m too nervous to sleep,” Flowridia said, but quickly added, “not because of you, though. From everything. My heart is still racing.”
“Allow me to be more plain with you: you smell delightful, and I haven’t eaten in several days.” Mereen smiled curtly, revealing her teeth, the barest hint of a point appearing where her fangs would grow. Her hands twitched. “I need a moment to clear you from my senses.”
“I apologize. Ayla shared the same opinion, but she didn’t have the same honor code as . . .”
She realized her error, the risk of wielding Ayla’s name so freely. But Mereen’s expression remained the same, her countenance pleasant and sincere. “I’m an oddity of the vampire world,” Mereen said lightly. “I shall go sit at the mouth of the cave and not touch the burning wards. We’ll move on once you’ve taken time to rest.”
Mereen winked and disappeared into the darkness. Amidst the flickering candlelight, Flowridia sat beside Demitri, unnerved for reasons she couldn’t quite name. “Demitri,” she whispered, “why do I feel like . . .”
The truth hit her like a blow to her stomach.
Remember Tazer?
“Tazel,” she corrected instinctively. He had locked himself in a library to hide from the woman—Mereen Fireborn.
Remember his grandma he may or may not be having sex with?
She did, though she wouldn’t have said it quite so crassly. “There’s no way she knows . . .”
That was a terribly stupid thing to assume. Flowridia laid her head against Demitri, figuring if she hadn’t been murdered yet, she wouldn’t be while she slept.
* * *
“You really won’t let me read it?”
Etolié shook her head, mulling over the written words she held in her hand. She’d only cried a little, and Sora had been kind enough to pretend to not notice.
Sora stared out the window, watching the sunrise. “What the hell do we do now, with Soliel having four orbs?”
“Pray a lot,” Etolié said, because she didn’t dare correct her.
“Lunestra will be proclaimed archbishop by the time we’ve arrive—she didn’t want any spectacle, lest it overshadow the tragedy of her brother’s death. The Theocracy will move forward, but people died, and she didn’t want to detract from that. I think she’s a good woman. I’ve always admired her.”
Etolié remembered Khastra’s defeated stance, her joyless confession. She was a fool to forget what Khastra was—an undead slave to a wicked, dangerous man.
“Have you spoken to Lara at all about what happened?”
Etolié shook her head. “I’m certain she knows, though. I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to contact me.”
“So are she and Flowridia . . ?”
“I don’t actually know how it went. But she hasn’t popped up next to me crying, so I’m assuming the best.”
Oh, but that Flowers . .
“I think Lara would be a good influence on her,” Sora said. “I’m happy for them.”
“I don’t disagree.” Perhaps that’s where the stolen orb was—in Solvira with Flowers and Lara, and maybe there was some perfectly reasonable explanation that everyone had just forgotten to tell Etolié.
Sora withdrew her knitting supplies, and Etolié glanced up as she resumed working on what looked increasingly less like a doily and
more like a sock. Etolié plucked the mirror from her pocket dimension, glowering as she tapped the small artifact.
It glowed. The longer it glowed, the deeper she frowned. She stared a good minute, and when she was certain the lines from her frown would be permanent, she tucked the mirror away. Etolié swallowed her anger, choosing to assume that Flowers had a very good reason to have stolen a world-ending artifact, even though the coward had also had the audacity to ignore her before—and now Flowers was hiding from her, she guessed. “Flowers needs all the help she can get,” Etolié said simply, and she returned to her letter.
With her quill, she signed her name at the bottom.
She stared at it, added a ‘heart,’ felt ridiculous and scribbled it out, then realized it looked much worse with a large ink splatter and redrew the heart but filled it in.
Now it was a black heart—nice and ominous. Oh well.
She gently blew on the heart-like blot of ink on the parchment, willing it to dry. A sense of finality filled her as she folded it in three and tucked it away, into the same inter-dimensional space she kept her mirror and flask.
She smiled unbidden, a fluttering sense of joy filling her stomach. Uncomfortable and light, it both nauseated her and excited her from her head to her limbs.
Etolié looked out the window, hoping the next few days would fly by quickly. As soon as she returned from the Theocracy, she’d send her letter and perhaps . . .
She wrapped her arms around herself, brought her knees up, and leaned against the wall of the carriage, secure on the bench. When she shut her eyes, she saw Khastra’s face lit by the faint moonlight, her heartbroken smile as she pressed their lips together that final time.
And despite the fear she harbored in her heart . . . Etolié felt hope.
* * *
“I never did ask why you’re headed to the capital.”
Hours had passed, and Flowridia had managed a nap. Night held an oppressive weight, the stars hidden behind a thick layer of leaves high above. “To meet a friend,” Flowridia replied honestly, and then she sat and shut her eyes, expanding her focus. She gripped the wards, all but the ones grown into the moss, and commanded them to dissipate, letting them vanish into the void.
She felt Mereen’s eyes. “What sort of a friend?”
When Flowridia stood, she realized Demitri had awoken and loomed behind her. Ana teetered as she wove around his feet.
“As good a friend as Ayla?”
The name set Flowridia’s nerves alight, and she wondered what Mereen thought she knew. “I suppose, yes, in a way,” Flowridia admitted, hoping it might set Mereen’s interest to rest. “I’ve accidentally caught the attention of the empress, and I’m hoping she might help me move on.”
Mereen stepped out of the cave, the rest of her belongings slung across her back. “Let me escort you part of the way, assuming you have no objections to travelling strictly by night. I worry your friend will find you, now that your protections are gone. If he’s been looking, he won’t have gone far.”
Flowridia gave a nod, though anxiety gripped her chest at the implications. “That’s kind of you.”
“What’s the use of rescuing you if I leave you for the wolves? So to speak,” she added with a wink.
Demitri gave a quick kiss to Flowridia’s cheek, startling her. Best friends with Mereen now?
She ignored him.
In the woods, the fog thickened, and Flowridia wondered if it were possible to drown above land. The damp forest floor sloshed with every step. Creatures buzzed. “Mereen, how did you summon the wolves?”
“I tracked down the pack and dethroned their alpha. Wolves instinctively trust vampires; couldn’t tell you why. A pity, their sacrifice, but all for the greater good.”
No regret; simply acceptance. Perhaps becoming a vampire purged one’s conscience. “I’m considered the greater good?” Flowridia asked, genuinely curious to hear Mereen’s explanation.
“Intelligent creatures are more valuable than mere beasts; even humans.”
Flowridia expected a wink, or some other sign of jest. Nothing. “As a vampire, do you still associate with elves?”
“When necessary, yes. My existence is known. But if I’m going to visit, I visit my family.”
Flowridia placed a hand into her bag, reassuring herself of Ana’s squirming presence. “Your family?” she asked, praying her feigned innocence would save her. Curse her loose tongue—why had she said the name Ayla?
“My son survived and bore two children,” Mereen said, her steps graceful through the precarious, moist terrain. “I’ve maintained ties with all of my progeny, even trained some in helping my cause.”
“To kill vampires?”
“To kill vampires,” she affirmed. Mereen suddenly stiffened, her eyes refracting the minimal light as she stared into the darkness.
Flowridia followed Mereen’s gaze, realizing that a noxious, purple cloud mingled with the fog, slowly emanating out. From the dense trees, Soliel emerged, centered in the cloud. The orb in his hand glowed a brilliant green in the darkness, cutting through the cloud and casting sharp, eerie lines onto his features. Despite the wolves’ attack, his form was unmarred, no injuries as far as Flowridia could see.
A flaming blade appeared in his hand. Mereen kept her stare fixed solely on Soliel, unquestionable menace in her grin. Not so predatory as Ayla, but calculating, almost charming.
“There is a river three miles to the south,” Mereen whispered. “Climb on Demitri and run. It’ll lead you to Neolan.”
“I can’t leave you. Not after—”
“Don’t worry for me, sweetie. I won’t die today.” Mereen said, and her teeth glinted in the faint light. “You’ll see me again.” She withdrew one curved blade, the siren call of metal on leather a whisper on the breeze.
And from her hip, she withdrew an elven weapon Flowridia had never personally seen, only depictions of in art. Polished wood and metal glinted in the faint light as Mereen took her aim. “On my count, you run. Three.”
Flowridia climbed aboard Demitri. “Thank you for everything.”
“Two.”
Soliel rushed forward, the earth wilting as the toxic gas touched greenery.
“One.” Boom.
An earth-shattering crash erupted. Soliel cried out, the breastplate of his armor pierced as the bullet embedded within. Flowridia nearly screamed for fear, watching Mereen rush to meet the God of Order, her swords ringing against the blade of flame he summoned.
Flowridia stared a moment, transfixed by the scene. Mereen’s swords met flesh. Her body was as much a weapon as her swords, displaying uncanny acrobatics, even managing to flip over him when the earth erupted in flame. The gas engulfed her, nothing to choke for she needn’t breathe.
Demitri began sprinting, but Flowridia watched the display of fire and poison and clanging metal. When a cry met her ears—feminine and pained—Flowridia felt her heart clench.
But Mereen’s sacrifice, final or not, would not be in vain. With the orb safely packed in her bag, Flowridia ducked her head as Demitri ran through the thick trees.
They managed to find the river within the hour.
Stars glittered overhead, and Flowridia slid off her familiar’s back, senses on high alert. But Soliel seemed nowhere near.
The full moon glistened along the river. Flowridia withdrew Casvir’s gifted map, realizing Mereen had spoken true. North of Ilunnes was a river leading straight to the capital, Neolan.
Studying Demitri’s powerful build, she recalled the beast below the ocean and how she’d maintained perfect control of herself beneath the waves. From her satchel, she withdrew the orb and the maldectine both.
Did she dare tempt the God of Order? What was more important—speed or stealth?
Flowridia hadn’t gotten this far without taking a few risks. “Demitri, I want to try something.” She stared at the orb, still muted beside the bracelet. “I think we can use this at the same time.”
We?
“Get into the river.”
Still atop his back, she tucked the map inside her bag, making sure to grip Ana with her free hand. Her familiar obeyed, though he hesitated once he’d dunked his feet. This river is deep enough that even I’ll get swept away.
Flowridia braced herself and slipped the maldectine back into the bag. Immediately, she felt the orb’s power radiate. The touch of nature infused her being, her awareness of the condensation in the air and the water beneath them as natural as her skin.
She pressed it against Demitri. “How do you feel?”
Wet.
She focused, grasping onto the energy inherent in the orb and then to Demitri. With the finesse of threading a needle, she wove their energies together, until—
Huh. Neat.
Demitri stepped farther into the river with no hesitation and swam. They both breathed beneath the rapids, bursting through the water at extraordinary speed. Flowridia clung tight.
Can you talk?
“I can.”
I assume we need to travel faster than shiny boy?
“I would say yes, Demitri.”
With the orb at their disposal, it might not be weeks of travel at all.
Demitri swam all night, until the first hints of sunlight glittered against the surface of the water. When they emerged, Flowridia dried them off, the orb’s power more than capable of drying a water-soaked giant wolf and their supplies.
The scenery had changed, and it was a marvel to behold. No more forest, but a lush meadow, though it bespoke little shelter should an enemy come. They had covered significant ground—perhaps only a day or two more by river.
She told this to Demitri, who lounged in the sunlight. Wolves weren’t meant to be aquatic creatures. I’d rather be running.
“You’ll get your chance,” Flowridia said.
