by Jade Alters
“This has forced us to reexamine the cases of all those still interned beneath the Academy,” Reynold picks up where she stops, not giving me a second to quip or clip. Not that I would. At a time like this? Not even me. The whole situation is enough of a joke on its own.
“Magister Reynold proposed this hearing on the idea that you were a minimal threat to Academy security now and could be afforded release,” Thise explains. The following quiet beckons for me to call out,
“Why now? Why am I suddenly so little a threat that you’d let me run free?” My feet scrape forward across the glowing blue platform beneath me without a thought. The Council sits idle, not so much as twitching at my unspoken threat. “After two years of trickle-feeding me so sparsely I can hardly walk, why don’t I scare you anymore?” I dig in.
“Because the only thing that consistently drove you to the Kyrie over the Academy is gone,” Magister Reynold winces to tell me. After countless meetings of watching me falter for one reason, one thing I actually believed in, he tells me, “The Blood Farm is gone.”
“The… the what?” My voice echoes empty through the Council chamber. Through my heart and soul.
“Lucidous’ grand plan to end human hunting for Vampires… that’s what brought the Fiends through the gate to our Realm,” Reynold tells me.
“One thousand pods of humans in suspended animation, a sustainable blood source for the majority Vampire population… was all lost in the initial breakout of the Fiends,” Lily tells me.
“How… do you know?” I whisper, almost a whimper. I had imagined the glory of it every day for a long time when I first heard about the idea. A place to go, to receive a healthy ration on a schedule. A way to be what I was without ever taking more than I had to. A concrete field of blood crop, a ticket to immortality without persecution. All of it goes up in flames behind the veil of my imagination. Everything good I held onto in my old mentor, Lucidous. Dead. Gone. All of it.
“We hunkered down for retaliation after Serge and Emery rescued Helena Bartos, who the Kyrie had used as a battery to open the Gate to the Vampire Realm. But it never came,” Chief Botan explains. “So we sent scouts to inspect the Stronghold. It’s empty. The Kyrie is gone, and so is the Blood Farm.”
“How do you know… Lucidous didn’t just relocate it when they fled?” I ask, the last pumice of hope striking sparks within me.
“We found one thousand empty pods, Darius. Human remains everywhere… the Fiends came back for every last one of them,” Thise tells me. The Council gives me the grace of a few seconds' silence. Though none of them can likely appreciate the kind of future the Blood Farm held for me, for everyone like me, they see pure defeat in my body language. Not even the walls of my prison cell could do to me what this truth does.
“So we’ll ask you one last time…” Reynold sighs before the question he’s posed to me a hundred times over already. This is the first time outside my cell, though, and he can tell as well as I can that everything’s different now. “Where do your true loyalties lie, Darius? Do you still long to rejoin the Kyrie, after all they’ve done?”
“Or would you prefer to return to the Academy?” Thise asks. She lets me think on it for a second, uninterrupted, before she amends the offer. “You would be under the observation of Emery and Serge Dalshak as a preliminary member of the Academy Security Task Force.”
“All I have to do is join your club, huh?” I chuckle dryly to myself.
“What is it then, Darius?” Reynold forces himself to ask. That’s it, then. The extent of the Council’s lenience. Now they expect an answer.
“I don’t know,” I tell them honestly.
“You don’t know where your loyalties lie?” Sorceress Lily marvels.
“I just…” I try to muster, eyes turned away from them. I can’t expect them to understand any more than they can expect me to. After so long, hoping, dreaming. After so many missed steps over so many years… mistakes that ended lives… I doubt many understand the hanging measurers on the scales of humor and guilt better than I do. Lucidous and his Blood Farm offered a different way. “I don’t know,” I tell them at last.
“Very well.” Thise nods to me, then to Reynold. He rounds the Council’s stony table to my side. He takes me by the arms, and leads me out the same way I came in.
Emery,
The Broken Academy, Administrative Wing
I lean in close to the glass to listen for the verdict on Darius.
“Come on, Em. You know that’s not going to work,” Serge sighs. Of course I do, as well as anyone else in the Academy with half a functioning brain. That isn’t about to stop me from trying. Not after all this time. I’ve even considered, against all my own disbelief, to try and trick my way into eavesdropping. But I know more than most how many alarms that would set off.
“I know,” I pout, “I just-
The doors swing open just as I turn back to face Serge. I spin right back around. It’s a bit to take in all at once - Darius, Magister Reynold with his arms still around him, and the rest of the Council watching from inside their chamber. The binds still on his wrists. The key Magister Reynold clicks into it.
“You couldn’t give us a straight answer, so neither can we,” Reynold warns him. The enchanted cuffs pop open, freeing Darius at last. Two ring-shaped sores remain on his pale skin where they’ve been covered for the past two years. “Consider yourself on probation. Your case managers will be my favorite Dalshaks here.” Darius turns to Magister Reynold first, then to Serge and myself with nothing short of utter disbelief.
“He’s… free to go?” Serge asks when he sees that his friend is unable.
“For now,” Reynold tells him. Then he turns to me. There’s a surprisingly real spark of hope in the Magister’s eye when he says, “Don’t let him fuck this up.”
“I won’t,” I promise in a heartbeat. When Reynold lets his arm down from Darius’ back, mine is there to take its place immediately. I keep him in a gentle hold to lead him down the stairs, back towards the room he once shared with my brother.
Throughout the long walk, Darius says nothing. He doesn’t even attempt to open his mouth. I don’t attempt to make him. I simply guide him on his way and hold onto him as tight as I can. My touch acts as a constant reminder - you’re not alone. About halfway to the room, he leans his head on my shoulder. It’s the only kind of answer, or thanks, that I need.
A New Memory
Hoster
My entrance gives birth to a new world. The second I float down into Emery, our interwoven consciousnesses create a reality all their own. Blue-green light swirls out from around me, thinning to a cyclone of veils. The last of it flickers out and fades, revealing the nature of the world we created. To my surprise, it’s one I know. A memory.
Emery spins around to face me in that crazy dress. The second I see it, it’s like the dance was yesterday. I could never forget the way she looked that night. That dress that showed off every curve under an interlocked drapery of crimson and violet fabric. The way her hair was pulled back in a crown of braids. Her perfectly outlined eyes. That smile. This was the first night she really smiled at me. Looking back now, this was when Emery finally started being honest with herself. A nobody like me who was just lucky to be part of it. The Prismatic Ballroom sparkles alive around us. I step through a perfect recreation of the Heritage Ball.
“Hoster?” Emery smirks when she realizes it’s actually me, not just her memory’s rendition of me. Her dark lips curl over on the side of her face with such genuine expression - it’s even better than I remember.
“How’d you know?” I ask when I notice I’m wearing the same jacket and tie I did that night. “That I wasn’t just another figment?” Emery glides over to me with a playful finger on her chin. Her head tilts down to take in every inch of the glistening scene, from her own reflection in my dress shoes to my bright eyes. She slides her hands through my overgrown hair, pushing it back behind my ears. She holds it there, along with my head, in bo
th of her soft hands.
“You look older. More mature. And confident,” Emery says through a thoughtful squint. She runs a thumb over the edge of my cheekbone. It sends a warm tingle through that whole side of my face. Confident? Really? I wonder what that looks like on me. I certainly can’t find it, in the mirror. But, with my face in Emery’s hands, her warm smile drinking me in, I feel it, at least a little.
“So… no more Clearlake memory trap, huh?” I ask as Emery’s hands slide down and across the back of my neck. She laces her fingers together to drape herself from me. My hands move up, instinctively, to the curve of her waist. Knowing that all the aimless bodies swaying around us are an illusion, I don’t restrain my hands from wandering. They sweep down low, scooping up one of Emery’s butt cheeks in each hand. She smirks and lays her head against my collar as we step with the soothing rhythm of the orchestra that pervades the air.
“I don’t need it anymore,” Emery tells me. She looks up idly at the ceiling so I can feel the shape of each word against my neck. It raises spiritual hair all over my Astral frame. “No one from the Kyrie can pry around inside Academy walls with the increased spellwork Reynold and Lily put on it. That’s beside the fact they’ve been off the radar for months now.”
“I’m impressed,” I admit, as if Emery couldn’t already feel that from the throb against her leg when it slides between mine. But I don’t mean it in the physical sense. “Emery Dalshak. Relaxing? Letting her defenses down?”
“Dreaming, even,” Emery adds. She swings on the hinge of my neck to put just enough distance between us. So her lips can climb up onto mine. It doesn’t matter if it’s real or not. All that matters is how it feels. Warm. Close. Peaceful, yet thrilling at once. Our tongues clash in a duel of muscle while both of us pulls the other in closer. It’s never enough. Not when I feel her nipples poke through her dress, into my collarbone. Not when my penis prods up into her underwear under her dress.
“This beats the dream prison, that’s for sure,” I smile when she unlocks from my mouth. Oh no. Her face sinks, a second before mine. I don’t need to ask. I know what I said wrong - stupid asshole. The Hearing was today.
“Emery, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… did he-
“Darius’ sentence was lifted, for now,” Emery tells me. Yet her lips betray no joy, not the slightest twitch of a smirk. Things were tense enough between Rock, Emery, and me already, but somehow, Darius has managed to make me like him. This drops a naturally perplexing knot of feelings into my gut. The one thing that’s clear about the situation though, is that it hasn’t played out quite the way Emery anticipated. If it had, she’d be able to look me in the eye.
“Well… isn’t that good?” I prompt her when the weight of it drags her head down to my shoulder.
“More than good. He’s finally out… after getting screwed over by everyone, he’s finally free,” Emery tells me, “But he’s… different. He was down there for too long, for stupid reasons. And then… today they told him Lucidous’ Blood Farm was gone. You should have seen him.”
“I can’t imagine,” I mutter to her. And I really can’t. I doubt I’d have survived what Darius did these past two years. After being double-crossed by the Kyrie no less. And then to hear the only thing he held onto was lost…
“And the story about Deborah Holeset made the local news in Pleasanton,” Emery sighs. Just the sound of the woman’s name puts me back in the skin of that thing. The ravenous Fiend that devoured her in pieces. It turns my stomach more than I care to admit.
“Let’s just hope…” I grunt when I’m able, without getting sick, “that a bigger news outlet doesn’t start connecting the dots.”
“Yeah,” Emery nods. She lets her body melt into mine. The embrace is exactly what we both need. Something, someone to hold onto. Something to shield us from the great unknown looming overhead, dark enough to frighten even Emery Dalshak. And then there’s me. I couldn’t even track a Fiend effectively, or possess it.
“Emery… about that last mission,” falls out of my mouth long before I know what the rest of my sentence will be. She cocks her head back a few inches to look me in the eye. “I’m sorry. I know I almost cost us… we almost…”
“What the hell are you talking about, Hoster?” she asks.
“I thought the Fiend was still asleep because I lost track of it. We should never have gone down in that sewer with it,” I shake my head. “And I couldn’t possess it.” The only doubt I see in Emery’s face, however, is that from my own face, reflected in her eyes. She stares at me, resolute as ever, like she still has no idea what the hell I’m talking about.
“There was no search without you, Hoster. We’d have been lost without a clue,” Emery says, “And if you couldn’t track or control it, then Fiends can’t be tracked or controlled. It’s that simple.”
“Emery…” I mumble, despite the warmth rising in my cool, spectral chest. “That’s not-
“It is true, Hoster,” Emery cuts me short. The hint of genuine annoyance in the lines of her face is enough to shut me right up. “God, when are you going to see how powerful you are? How important? You treat yourself like some pointless add-on, but you’re essential. You’re needed. You understand me?”
“I…” I guess, I almost say. But the expectant glint in Emery’s eye forces something else out of me. Something that sounds far more sure than I actually am. “Yes,” I say.
“Good,” Emery smiles. Then her body crashes into mine. We connect starting at our faces, then working our way down.
Emery clamps my bottom lip lightly between her teeth. She pulls me back with her, across the translucent dance floor. The music heightens with the quickening pace of the dreamer. Percussion strikes out from the magical expanse of her mind, despite there never having been drums at the Heritage Ball. It’s a gentle, low baseline. The pace of our bodies rocking together.
“When was the last time we did this?” I gasp between presses of our lips and chests.
“What we’re about to do? Never,” Emery promises me. A pulse of excitement awakens every inch of my Astral body. I hardly have time to wonder what she’s planning before Emery’s back hits one of the dense, glassy support pillars that hold up the Prismatic Ballroom. She pulls me hard against her for a few intense seconds.
Her leg wraps around the backside of my calf. One hand slides up the back of my suit jacket. The other slides down my dress pants. I’m not entirely sure how, but she gets both off of me in an instant. For all I know, since this is her dream, they just dissolve. Emery’s hand wraps tight around the base of my cock and squeezes, gentle but firm. Every second of contact makes it pulse harder in her grasp. The light strokes she gives it make it impossible to hold back. I lean forward to press into her, but Emery surprises me by spinning around.
She throws a hand around my butt to pull me in. Her hips lock perfectly inside mine as she presses herself into me. She tucks my cock up between her cheeks under her dress. Where her underwear has gone, I have no capacity to wonder. All I can do is savor the feeling of her warmth all around me, massaging me as she lifts and drops her waist. Emery groans into the illusory pillar in front of her while her hands fold back to guide me again. She claims both of my hands from around her waist. Emery slides one of my hands down between her legs, the other up to her hanging chest.
“Right there,” Emery whispers as the tips of my fingers glide up between her vagina lips. Her clitoris hardens against the pass of my fingers. Every gentle flick I give it arches her butt back against me harder. She pushes against the pillar to brace for the impact of pleasure. My hand on her chest moves around in a never-ending circle over her nipple. Eventually, I work up the courage to grab the fabric and pull it down. Emery’s breast flops out into my waiting grip. She whispers an elated, “Oh.”
I slide up against her in pace with the massage between her legs. A few preemptive drips of spectral, sexual energy trickle down where she has me trapped between her cheeks. It acts as a signal for both of us, stru
ggling to hold back. There’s no need anymore. Emery lifts her hips as high as she can. Her hand slides back between her legs to grab my penis. She pulls me in, closer and closer, right up inside her body. She turns to give me a forlorn nod of confirmation. She’s ready.
I push Emery forward, almost all the way into the illusory pillar. My pelvis flattens around her cheeks. Her insides shiver in tandem with my own spasms of pleasure. A grunt escapes me. I pull back half an inch, just enough to thrust inside again. The warm hug of Emery’s body threatens to send me over the edge already. Her muscles contract with every shove until she can’t fight the push anymore. Emery lets herself flatten fully against the pillar as I pump into her, rapidly from behind.
My lips graze her neck. My hands graze intensely pronounced bulbs on her chest and between her legs at once. She turns her head to look me in the eye as her insides explode into the final throes of passion. She holds nothing back as the wave of orgasm overpowers her. She screams into the glassy light show around us. It seems to intensify in its magical glow, the longer her pleasure unfolds. It finishes me right off. I push in as hard and far as I can, lifting Emery an inch off the floor. Silver pulses of sexual energy shoot up inside her, one for every gigantic tremor through my cock. She folds her legs back around me, arching her back like an acrobat to take it all in. I bury my lips in her neck from the first quake to the last. Our bodies synchronize even in breath as they work their way through me, into her.
When the trembles settle, I hold onto Emery around her stomach and chest. By a trick either of distraction or intention, we float down through the floor of the Prismatic Ballroom, into the night. There is no California landscape below us. No sky above us. There is only the eternity of stars all around us. Emery and I float there for as long as we can stay up, joined physically and spiritually. The moment I finished, she was infused with my energy, and we were linked. We stay that way as we float down together, until we eventually nod off.
