The Culling (Book 1): Splinter Skill

by Bell, A. C.

  “We haven't met,” he noted meeting my eye. “I'm Augustus Hemway, but I mostly go by Hemway. Probably an old military habit. I assume you’re here for that?” He pointed to my shoulder and I nodded.

  “I, um… I was shot a few weeks ago.”

  My mind turned to Justin and sadness filled my heart. I didn’t elaborate more, for fear that the rush of emotion would make me well up. I held my breath for a few heartbeats to ease the feeling. At my left side, Peter reached around and gripped my right shoulder comfortingly. The ghost of a memory hid behind Hemway’s eyes as well and he nodded morosely. Was he thinking of gunshot wounds he had seen during his time in combat? Perhaps friends he had lost? I frowned guiltily for reminding him about it.

  He gestured to the open curtain politely. “I see. I can have a look to see what I can do.”

  “The rest of us can give you some privacy,” Renenet said making a similar gesture to the exit for the others. They started to file out when Hemway lifted a hand in inquiry.

  “Ah, Raiden, you used to be a paramedic, correct?” he asked. Raiden gave a brief nod and I studied him more closely for a moment. A paramedic, huh? I didn’t actually know much about either him or Slade. “Could I have your assistance?” Hemway asked. Green eyes met brown and I couldn’t help but feel I was missing an inside joke. Well, okay, not a joke under the circumstances, but I was missing something. Raiden nodded and followed me past the curtain.

  14 Phoenixes and Teraphim

  An observation room is what I expected to see, but I instead found an office. This side of the room was smaller than the other side, but bright light flooded through the large paned windows and illuminated furnishings that were just as orderly as the lab. Everything seemed to be placed at even 90-degree angles, down to the pens resting on the surface of the rich maplewood desk.

  There was an observation table on the right side of the room, tucked under one of the tall windows with an adjustable stool beside it. Assuming this was where Hemway wanted me to sit, I slid onto the vinyl surface of the table and unclipped my sling. Raiden leaned against the wall next to it with his arms crossed, tapping his arm with his fingers. Why was he anxious? Hemway appeared through the curtain now, holding a salve container and a small bottle with a squeeze dropper as a lid. He placed them at the corner of his desk, evenly spaced from each side.

  “Alright, where is the wound?” A smile warmed his face as he stepped up to the table. I tugged the sleeve of my shirt down until the collar moved down my arm. The white bandage on my collarbone came into view. “Ah. Both a fortunate and an unfortunate spot for such an injury. May I?” He motioned to reach for the bandage and I nodded. It didn’t sting as much as I expected it to when he pulled the tape down.

  After a quick analysis he released the collar of my shirt and quickly retrieved the small bottle from his desk. “As I suspected. I can heal it, but it will take a little time; What I can do first is repair the deeper tissue so there’s no permanent damage and then quicken your recovery with a salve of my own invention. Raiden, this won’t be as challenging as I thought, so all I will need you to do is hold her arm still. She cannot move.” The tension in Raiden’s shoulders eased. Was he out of practice as a paramedic and was worried about doing something wrong? And what else would Hemway have needed him to do, anyway?

  He moved to my side and met my eye, smiling softly when I offered a grin. “You’ll need to lie down for this,” he said.

  “Okay.” I nodded and scooted down across the vinyl to give myself room to lie down. Raiden sat on the stool near my hip and Hemway handed the bottle to him and reached over me to the other side of the table and yanked something from between the wall; a thick nylon strap. I felt my eyes widen.

  “It’s merely a precaution,” Hemway said noting my reaction. He pulled another from the other side of the table and fastened them together over my chest. If I’d been well-endowed, it probably would have been uncomfortable. “The muscles in this area are often extremely tense from use and this serum can cause a jolting reaction that could damage the tissue before the healing process takes hold. It would make the procedure more painful.” He finished tightening more straps around my waist and legs and plucked the bottle from Raiden’s hand. Raiden took this as his cue and held both my upper and forearm down. I tried not to linger on the words “more painful”.

  The liquid in the glass bottle sloshed around as Hemway patted it against his palm ten times. He set it on the window sill as he pulled the dropper out and tugged the collar of my shirt down again. The solution was bitingly cold as he released three drops directly into the bullet hole and waited for each to seep between the stitches. He then returned the dropper to the bottle. I braced myself for the jolting reaction, but nothing happened. When he gripped my shoulder in one hand and held the other over my wound I realized he wasn’t done yet.

  “This will hurt,” he warned.

  He closed his eyes and murmured an incantation to himself. His fingers clenched as if he was gripping something invisible and a painful shot, much like the first one I’d suffered, bolted through the left side of my upper body. A shriek escaped me, but Raiden, Hemway, and the straps managed to hold me down as my entire body tensed until it ached. Fire spread through my wound. Although the entire thing only took seven seconds—I counted each—I felt it couldn’t have come soon enough when my muscles started to relax one by one until I was completely slumped against the table. Hemway moved to undo the straps and Raiden helped me sit up while I gripped my arm. Not only had numbness spread through my left pectoral and down to my left elbow, but I couldn’t move my arm. Panic sent a jolt through my chest and I looked up at Raiden.

  “It’s normal.” He smiled sympathetically and helped me get my sling back on.

  Hemway lifted the salve container from the desk and left the bottle of solution in its place. “Feeling should return no later than eight o’clock tomorrow morning. If it hasn’t, come see me immediately. Once the numbness is gone, apply this salve to your wound twice a day for the next few weeks.” Another warm smile lit his face. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Adeline.”

  I nodded and, despite how raw I felt, smiled gratefully. “Same. Thanks for your help.”

  ***

  The little bell over the door at Alexandra’s jangled loudly against the silence within. The revving of cars and the murmur of chatter on the sidewalk died down when the glass door fell shut behind me. Browsers peeked around bookcases to see who had joined them the way human nature encouraged them to. The place was busy today, but a text from Raiden told me he hadn’t yet arrived. I used the spare time to peruse Alexandra’s collection. Alexandra smiled from her desk, but she didn’t ask if I was here to return the genealogy book in my hand.

  I found a few rare editions along the wall by her desk where she could see who was looking at them. While scanning the collection, I spotted an early edition of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Wincing in anticipation, I flipped the book over to see the price. My heart sank. Too expensive for a random-chance purchase, especially since I already owned a perfectly good copy of the book. Maybe I could find room in my budget next month if I didn’t spend any extra and kept what I had now.

  A tickle at the back of my mind told me someone was watching me, an instinct I was learning not to ignore. I turned back to Alexandra, whose glance subtly shifted down the main aisle to the door and back to me. Moments later, Raiden strolled into view around the bookshelf and, spotting me, strolled over. His drenched hair and damp double breasted wool coat indicated that the dark clouds outside had finally decided to weep. I set the book back on the shelf and ignored a shiver. Intuition or not, how could Alexandra possibly know who I’d been waiting for?

  “Hi,” Raiden said. He ruffled a hand through his hair and beads of water sprinkled his coat.

  I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my Chvrches hoodie–my leather jacket had been lost during the cynocephalus attack–and smiled. “Hi.”

  “Come with me,”
Alexandra chimed in, whisking past us before we could suffer through awkward small talk. I fell into pursuit to the door along the wall. “I’ve already changed the status of the book in my computer. Just return it to where you found it.” Alexandra handed me the spare elevator key and opened the door for us.

  I stepped into the hidden elevator and Raiden hesitated the briefest of moments before joining me. As the doors closed us in, I felt suddenly acutely aware of his presence. Raiden seemed aware of my unease and gave me as much space as possible in the cramped space by leaning on the wall. Then, to break the silence and the tension, he started humming “Stairway to Heaven.” It was quiet and out of tune, but it was enough. Smiling, I started humming along and by the time the elevator slowed to a halt we were chuckling amongst ourselves. We ambled down to the “V” aisle and I searched for the Viesci section.

  “So, what’s that book?” He asked, pointing to the narrow tomb tucked under my arm.

  “A genealogy book for the Viesci. I was hoping to find more information on my grandmother, but I didn’t have any luck. She abandoned my dad in a diner as a baby. Mom says he tried to find her for answers, but never did.”

  “We never found anything in our background check, either. We only found you because your father was registered as a Viesci dhampir.”

  “So somehow, he found out, even without her there to tell him,” I mused.

  I turned down the “V” aisle, hoping to drop the sore subject of my grandmother, and returned the book to its slot in the alphabet.

  “Her collection is bigger than I thought,” Raiden said. He studied the titles on the bindings.

  “How far back do you think they go?” I asked

  “No idea, but I’m sure Alexandra knows.”

  “Yeah, she’s... odd. I didn’t even tell her I was waiting for you but I think she knew.”

  Raiden reached up for a book on the top shelf and flipped through it. “I think she’s a seer. Slade has mentioned her when he’s visited this place. Seers don’t have visions or anything to begin with. They’re just highly intuitive. The visions come later on in life.”

  “You mean when they’re old and everyone will just think they’re going senile?”

  “Unfortunately, yeah.”

  As much as I loved irony, the reality of that scenario saddened me. I stood next to him to look at the book he was holding. It was about something called a “Varsel”.

  “So, Slade has been here?”

  “Yeah, he’s lived here for a few years. He called to tell me he was trying to figure out how to introduce you to all of this but wasn’t sure how to. He tries to stay separate from the supernatural world as much as he can. I have lately, too, to be honest.”

  I looked up at him. Would it be rude to ask why? Sure, they’d gone way out of their way to help me, but that didn’t mean they wanted to share their life stories. His chartreuse eyes were focused intently on the page in front of him and his lips turned down. I decided not to ask.

  “What’s a ‘varsel’?” I asked instead.

  Raiden’s glance flicked over and he smiled. “Well, in the most basic sense, they’re tricksters. They used to be known for making people think they were hearing someone they knew in their home by making them hear footsteps or even the voice of the alleged person. Some people think it contributed to the concept of deja vu. In reality, they can just emulate and throw sounds. They’re generally employed as comedians or ventriloquists these days.”

  “Are you telling me that Jeff Dunham is a varsel?”

  Raiden laughed. “I have no clue. I just wanted to show you this so you could see that not all supernaturals are monsters. In fact, over seventy five percent of the species out there don’t even have any abilities or anything anymore.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”

  He nodded. “I think that’s one of the real reasons most of them don’t trust dhampirs or werewolves, or even sorcerers most of the time.”

  “Do sorcerers have any way of dictating what magic they’re allowed to use?”

  “Yeah. They have their own called the Magisterium to regulate what magic is acceptable. They’re kind of like Congress I guess. And sorcerers are never allowed to use magic on humans unless it’s absolutely necessary for self-defense and even then, they have to do it in a way that doesn’t expose them.”

  “So many organizations,” I noted.

  Raiden smiled. “How else would we keep things organized?”

  I made a show of rolling my eyes and he chuckled again. “So, what else is here?” I asked.

  Raiden returned his attention to the shelves and his eyes widened. He quickly shelved the book on varsels and eased past me to the “T” section. “No way! She has a book on Teraphim. These are obscure.”

  “Aren’t they Jewish idols of some kind?”

  “They used to be. Teraphim were guardian angels of a sort who possessed the idols to hide their identities. They would use magic to fix things around the house and just generally make things better. They’re really rare these days and they can’t possess objects anymore, but they work as handymen or electricians. Anything that allows them to visit a lot of homes. Their magic is all but gone now, from what I hear, but they still fix things.”

  The boyish elation on his face warmed my heart. “Raiden, are you a nerd?”

  His face pinked. I didn’t know vampires—or lamia if “vampire” was offensive these days—could blush. “Well, um, maybe. My family used to have one of these. Some of my extended family in Europe were Jewish and they sent one of these over. I didn’t realize that it had fixed a lot around the house until I read about them years after I was turned.” His expression grew pensive. “I wonder...” He slid the book back into its slot and fled the aisle.

  “Wonder what?” I asked. I scurried after him curiously.

  “There’s something else I want to show you,” he said. I trailed him to the “P” section. “Aha!” he declared. He pulled a small book from a low shelf and straightened to hand it to me.

  “The Endangerment of the Phoenix,” I read. “Phoenixes are real, too?”

  “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to see one. Well, not always, but ever since, well, you know, learning they were real.” he said.

  Inside, I found a sketch of a bird that didn’t look anything like how I would have pictured a phoenix. “It’s black? I pictured something with more fire.”

  Raiden moved over to look over my shoulder. “It’s how they blend in. A huge orange bird would be hard to miss. They often get mistaken for a large black Magpie.”

  I nodded and kept flipping until I found another colored sketch. This drawing was from a below perspective and the bird had its wings outstretched. I gasped and looked at Raiden. A pleased grin suggested that this was the reaction he’d hoped for. The underside of the birds wings concealed feathers that actually glowed like fire, which the description below stated the birds could control, the way a firefly controls the glowing of its thorax. It was stunning. I could only imagine how beautiful it would be in person.

  “Do they really come back to life?”

  “Reborn, yes.”

  “Then why are they going extinct?”

  “Hunting, mostly. There’s a superstition that the glowing feathers have healing properties. It’s not true, but that doesn’t stop people from killing them and selling the feathers for an outrageous price.”

  “But, wouldn’t it just get reborn, anyway?”

  He shook his head and frowned. “They used to only go through rebirth if they died of natural causes like old age or sickness, not if a human or another animal kills them. Because of reproduction and the rejuvenation, they used to have an exceedingly high population, but now even being reborn after dying of old age isn’t a sure thing. Scientists are trying to find out why.”

  “Oh...”

  “When I worked as a lawyer, my focus was environmental law, or more specifically, the preservation of magical creatures and their homes. Still, I’ve never gotten
the chance to see one of these.”

  I looked up at him in awe. “Wow, that’s amazing.”

  Raiden smiled warmly. “Thanks. Slade just calls me a dork.”

  “Well, I didn’t say it didn’t make you a dork.”

  He rolled his eyes and chuckled. We spent a while longer browsing her selection and I ended up leaving with a book on extinct species, the book about phoenixes, and a general history book of the supernatural. Alexandra smiled at our approach and returned her attention to a tall middle-aged man whom she was assisting with his purchase. While we waited, I withdrew my phone from my back pocket and found a text from Nikki I’d received an hour ago. I must have been too absorbed to notice it.

  Doing anything later? it read. Assuming it would be quicker to communicate if I called her, I told Raiden I would be by the door. He nodded and took the books tucked under my arm. I leaned against the side of the bookcase closest to the door while the phone rang. A car drove by outside with its windshield wipers sweeping across the front window and I smiled. The wipers were a dramatic exaggeration since it was barely sprinkling anymore, but I hoped it would pick back up.

  Just when it occurred to me that Nikki was likely unable to talk since she was in rehearsal by now, she answered. Must have been on break. “Hey,” she said. “So, are you doing anything later?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Do you have something in mind?”

  “I just thought we could do dinner or something. Catch up and all, after everything. My treat,” she said.

  I smiled and rested my head against the bookcase. “I’d like that. Any place specific?”

  “I’m really craving Pad Thai. How about that Thai food place on Quebec?”