A Shade of Vampire 70: A Breed of Elements

by Forrest, Bella

  “Your swamp witch,” Inalia murmured, smiling. “I’ll bet.”

  “I think it’s time we get off,” Eira suggested, as the train began to slow down. “We’re approaching the domain border, and there will be more guards checking each cart. Security is much tighter in the cities than it is between stations. Surely, Nalyon has an alert out for us.”

  She pointed out the window to a grouping of jagged rocks that poked out of the tall grass. Taeral followed her gaze, then nodded. “Link hands, everyone.”

  A few seconds later, the same jagged rocks rose proudly before us, as our boots settled onto the hard ground. I couldn’t help but run my fingers through the grass, which was tall enough to reach my waist. The air was fresh and clean, and the temperature was perfect. Unfortunately, Varga, Amelia, and I couldn’t enjoy the sunlight. We’d already pulled our hoods and masks on.

  “Where to from here?” Taeral asked.

  Inalia pointed toward a great river crossing the land. The dark blue water reflected flakes of sunlight. Several small boats moved along, their sails stretched against the wind. “Beyond the river,” she said. “That’s the Hadeen Domain.”

  Riza zapped us across the water next. From there, we made it to a nearby Arrow stop. We jumped into another train, which took us deeper into Hadeen. As we left the river and its lush banks, I noticed the greenery fading out, like brushstrokes across a canvas.

  Less than an hour later, the Arrow was going through a seemingly endless strip of red-sand desert. It was hotter, too, and beads of sweat playfully trickled down my temples.

  “This is it,” Inalia whispered, a faint smile settling on her lips. “Home.”

  “It’s been a while,” Eira replied.

  They both gazed out the window, the image before them familiar yet foreign at the same time. This was where they came from, but not who they’d become. Inalia wore her Foreign Outreach uniform, while Eira had Armed Forces written all over her. They’d assimilated into the Rose Domain, I realized, as we got off the Arrow into a busy Hadeen station.

  The people here were dressed differently, most of them in long robes in striking shades of red, gold, and black. The ladies’ hairdos were dramatic, a plethora of braids artfully gathered on the top of their heads, caught and fitted with numerous bejeweled pins and clamps. The males looked just as remarkable. Their long, black, and braided locks were tied with crimson ribbons and swung gracefully down their backs, and they had golden beads scattered through their beards.

  “Wow,” I managed, trying to take it all in. “This is completely different from the Rose Domain.”

  “Another culture,” Inalia said. “Remember, up until a few centuries ago, Hadeen was a kingdom of its own. None of the domains ever really abandoned their heritage and their history. They still dress the same. They eat the same foods. The laws have changed along with the leadership, but Hadeen’s identity remains strong and… colorful.”

  “It’s like a different world altogether,” Varga replied.

  Beyond the station, vivid in sand-colored bricks with gold-and-red marble inserts, was a town. The buildings were simple, for the most part, if one overlooked the aesthetically pleasing façades that seemed to mimic the desert around it. Towers rose here and there, with bauble-shaped tops in swirling shades of red and sunny gold. It reminded me of an earthly sheikh’s kingdom, something out of a Middle Eastern fairytale, but with something that made it so beautiful and otherworldly, it almost took my breath away.

  I couldn’t quite figure out what set it apart, but I knew that this was, at least so far, my favorite part of Cerix. The people were all beautiful, remarkably tall compared to us. Heck, I felt tiny among them. The only one who was closer to their level was Raphael. I loved the way the breeze fluttered through their robes, making them flap in scarlet-and-gold reflexes, with bold black dashes in between.

  “I suppose this isn’t the capital,” Amelia said.

  Inalia shook her head. “Just a border town. We still have a ways to go.”

  “Are we stopping by your mother’s place?” Eira asked her.

  The look on Inalia’s face spoke of indecision and concern. She probably wanted to see her mother, but there were risks involved. She was still a wanted Cerixian, and Nalyon knew she might go home if she escaped, just to make sure her family was safe.

  “Nalyon probably has loyalists staking the place out,” I replied. “Waiting for you.”

  “We’ll go to my safe place,” Inalia decided. “We have work to do. Nalyon won’t touch my mother. He’ll wait for me to show up, like Eva said.”

  “Lead the way, then,” Taeral said, his gaze fixed on her as she walked down the busy platform.

  With the cloaks on, we managed to blend in a little. It was easier to move around like this than in our leather uniforms, with backpacks and swords dangling from our belts—we would’ve stood out like sore thumbs.

  We followed Inalia out of the Arrow station and across the small town. Despite the heat, the Hadeen Cerixians seemed very comfortable here. The market we passed through had stalls loaded with all kinds of fruits, including cactus-like branches with bright purple blossoms from which they drained the juice into tin cups. Those were sold for a pretty coin or two, from what I could tell.

  There were fountains everywhere. Despite the desert region, they’d managed to dip into an underground water source, from what Eira told me. Unsurprisingly, the water gushed higher as soon as Eira passed by, reacting to her half-Hermessi presence.

  We made our way through a variety of back alleys, moving farther to the west as we left the crowded town squares and markets behind.

  “So, how does one reach out to a Hermessi, exactly?” Eira asked me, keeping her voice low, as if not wanting Inalia to hear her. Inalia was too busy talking to Taeral up ahead, and given the curious glimmer in her eyes, Taeral had her full attention.

  “Well, the fae use astral projection,” I said. “Their consciousness leaves the body and the physical plane. With concentration and the proper breathing rhythm, their souls will automatically find the Hermessi.”

  “It sounds easy in theory,” Eira muttered.

  “I don’t think it is,” I replied. “But it also varies from one fae to another. From what I know, Vesta is one of the few who’s had success in this respect.”

  “Pretty sure she was the only one,” Varga corrected me. “The Hermessi reached out to the others. Visions, possessions… None of those contacts were initiated by the fae.”

  “Hold on,” I said. “Bogdana did it by the river, on Merinos, remember? Rose told us about it after they came back from Strava.”

  Varga blinked several times, then smiled—I caught a glimpse of his lips moving beneath the mask. “Impressive memory you’ve got there.”

  “It’s not just my looks that wow, then?” I said, slightly amused. My reply came from a form of self-awareness. I knew I had assets, aesthetically speaking, and I’d been raised to use them accordingly. If I needed a favor, I had my smile. If I needed to create a distraction, I had my curves. But, to be honest, I wasn’t a fan of that anymore. I’d found meaningful dialogue and honesty to be much more effective. This shift in my behavior had added to the increasing gap between me and my mother, in the end.

  According to her, I was becoming less of a Lamia and more of a “patsy Shadian,” as she’d put it, her tone dripping with bitterness.

  Varga didn’t take his eyes off me as we turned a corner and wound up on the very edge of town. Before us, the red desert opened up, wide and endless. It kissed the sky on the horizon, drawing a mauve line that mesmerized me for a brief moment.

  I could still feel him looking at me, but I didn’t dare meet his gaze. Ironically, I was pretty straightforward by nature, yet with Varga… all bets were off. My game was reduced to stolen glances and a fluttering heart.

  “Look. Right there,” Inalia said, drawing focus back to the task at hand as she pointed in the distance. About five miles away, rising from the red sand, was a
patch of dried woods. Just gnarly sticks poking out of the ground, like claws reaching for the clouds, perpetually doomed to never feel their puffy touch.

  We linked hands once more, and Taeral zapped us across the desert. Once we were surrounded by the naked trees, Inalia seemed to relax. A smile tried her lips.

  “I used to come here a lot when I was a kid,” she said. “We call this place Deadwood.”

  “I can see why,” Raphael replied. “Was it a forest before?”

  “We’re not sure but probably. Many thousands of years ago, this was a fertile land. There was an ocean nearby. We found fossils of creatures no longer living, dating back millennia. It took us a while to figure out that Cerix’s landscapes change over the centuries. Where seas once foamed, there are mountains, plains, and deserts. Where the earth was barren, the oceans spread today. You know, the course of nature.”

  Not much stood in the way of change. Even vampires were subject to it, to some extent. However, theirs wasn’t a physical shift, but rather an aging of the soul. The experiences lived through, the knowledge acquired, and the memories built up… they all did something to us, eventually, even when our bodies retained their integrity.

  “Okay, now what?” Riza asked, her arms crossed.

  “We try a little bit of that astral projection we talked about,” Taeral replied, then looked at Inalia. “You remember what I told you, right?”

  Inalia smiled. “It’s all in the breathing.”

  “Exactly. So, try and make yourself as comfortable as you can. We’ll be right here, watching over you, at all times,” he replied gently.

  Eira pointed at her water flask, which was safely strapped to her belt. “And I’m ready to cool you down if needed.”

  Inalia laughed lightly, then lowered herself into a seated position, her legs crossed and her wrists resting on her knees. She closed her eyes, while the rest of us settled on the soft ground—there was a thin layer of sand over it, but those trees, dead as they were, still had roots in this place.

  Minutes went by, as Inalia measured her breaths. One… Two… Three… Exhale. Then, a deep breath in, and again, one, two, three, exhale. After about twenty such bits, she opened her eyes.

  “I don’t think it’s working,” she said.

  “Maybe you should try it some more,” Amelia suggested. “It won’t happen right away. Based on Vesta’s account of her experiences, you won’t just slide in on your first attempt.”

  “Shouldn’t I have it easier than a fae, though? I mean, they’re only connected to the Hermessi through their abilities. I’m the daughter of one.” Inalia sighed.

  “Try again,” Taeral encouraged her. “Just let go of anything else you’re thinking about. Surely, your mind is loaded with all kinds of concerns. Focus on your breathing.”

  Inalia nodded slowly, then did as he asked.

  All eyes were on her. Not a single word was spoken. I had a feeling that Herakles wasn’t even breathing anymore.

  Inalia’s chest moved slowly as she inhaled, then held it in for three seconds before letting it out. The repetition was almost hypnotic. I could feel myself slipping into a dream, until the light came alive inside her. Glowing orange beneath her skin, Inalia sucked in a breath, then fell backward. She’d passed out.

  Eira was the first to move, in an attempt to get to her side, but Taeral’s arm shot out and stopped her. “She’s out,” he whispered. “Let her be. She did it.”

  I let a sigh roll out, relief washing over me. We were just one teeny tiny baby step closer to figuring out a way to stop these Hermessi death cults. Inalia was putting herself at quite a risk, now, since her father was, in fact, the rogue Hermessi we’d been trying to get to. However, in the absence of any weapons against such a powerful entity, our only other option was this peaceful approach.

  Maybe she could get the answers we needed out of Brann.

  Inalia

  At first, I didn’t even realize I no longer had a body.

  I just floated in darkness, feeling like I’d left something behind. My body, specifically. When I eventually looked around and acknowledged the vast nothingness, my first instinct was to panic—until I remembered that, in the absence of flesh and the chemicals in my brain that helped generate my emotions, I couldn’t panic, anyway.

  So I let myself go.

  Taeral’s instructions were still fresh, though, like recent memories that had escaped my body along with me and had followed me around. He’d told me to focus on my father. Brann. The Fire Hermessi of Cerix. Heavenly sweetness, that rolled off the tongue in such a weird way…

  No tongue, either, remember?

  I thought of him. My maker. The fire that descended from this plane onto Cerix and loved my mother. Their union, as strange as it was, created me.

  Before me, a light flickered. It seemed close, but it wasn’t. Miles and miles were there between us, so I made my way toward it. I let my consciousness slide through the abyss. The seconds passed like leaves in the wind.

  Swish… Swoosh…

  The light grew brighter and bigger.

  The closer I got, the better I could see, and the more I was inclined to slam on the brakes—if I had any. It wasn’t just a tiny spark. It was a massive column of orange, blazing fire. It burned with such intensity that I could cry, even without my tear ducts.

  It filled my very soul with a familiarity I hadn’t experienced before.

  Everything was so strange and wonderful at the same time, that I had no idea what to make of it. Was this my father? Were we finally meeting, after all these years?

  Heck, I didn’t even have a voice to speak to him. And if I did, what would I tell him? “Hi, Daddy?”

  But do you need a voice?

  The fire was so close, now, that the flames seemed to tickle my astral projection. I could almost feel the warmth spreading through me, as if I’d hugged the sun itself.

  “Brann,” I heard myself say, in a manner that did not require a mouth. My very soul was communicating with the Fire Hermessi. A moment full of firsts, I thought. “Brann… It’s you, isn’t it?”

  The entity burst brighter for a moment, then subsided into a humanoid figure, with limbs and a head, as if all that power was concentrated and compressed into the compact form of a Cerixian. Only, he didn’t have a face, or eyes, or a mouth. But I knew it was him, nonetheless.

  “Brann,” I said once more. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

  He seemed to look at me. Maybe he recognized me. His daughter. Or maybe I was getting my hopes too high. And, usually, the higher something flew, the harder it fell.

  “Inalia…”

  His voice was identical to the flames coming off him in soft waves. Warm and bright, threatening to burn if I touched him. I’d heard it before. The realization hit me so hard, it almost knocked me out. Oh, my days.

  I’d heard him before in dreams I could no longer remember. He’d spoken to me. The words escaped me, but the voice was unforgettable, even if it was lodged somewhere in the depths of my subconscious. I’d dreamed of my father. He’d come to see me, more than once.

  “You know me,” I managed, trying to come to terms with this new reality of mine.

  “Of course, my child.”

  Hearing those words—feeling those words resonate inside me the way they did—almost unraveled me into a billion threads, each vibrating with the joy of recognition. Part of me was wary, though. After all, he was most likely responsible for those fire fae attacks that had brought Taeral and his crew into my life. And the death cults, too.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked. “You’re not supposed to know who I am, let alone where to find me.”

  “I had to,” I said. “You made this happen!”

  The figure swelled for a split second, then contracted again. I could’ve sworn that was a sigh of sorts. “I was hoping this day would never come, Inalia.”

  “Why? Not interested in meeting your child?” I asked.

  “No, my child. I was hoping
this day would never come because I was done from the moment you revealed yourself to me.”

  Suddenly, I found myself bewildered and confused.

  What the heck was he talking about?

  Taeral

  I got flashbacks about Vesta while watching Inalia in her current state. Granted, Vesta didn’t glow like a lightbulb during her astral projection—this was probably because Vesta wasn’t a Hermessi child. Inalia was connected to Brann on a much deeper level, one which I doubted I would ever truly understand.

  During the Blackout, I, too, was part of the one thousand and one fae that had facilitated the release of the Hermessi. Only, unlike most, I didn’t remember much from that brief moment when the elements channeled all their energy through my body to power up the mass memory wiper. I only remembered the light filling me up to the brim, and me wishing it would never stop.

  Technically speaking, I had a connection to the Hermessi, as well. But I didn’t feel it the way Vesta or the other fae did. I figured it had something to do with my genetic package. I was only half fae, after all. Maybe I should’ve been more worried about an entity like Brann hijacking my body, the way he’d done with the death cults. Frankly, I just didn’t feel like I was in that kind of danger. I was more concerned about my father, a full fire fae. The urgency of our situation was never too far away from my stream of consciousness.

  I watched over Inalia, with Eira sitting next to me. Eva, Varga, and Raphael kept a lookout. We may have been far out in the desert, but the death cults had surprised us before. This didn’t have to be any different. It was better to always be prepared, anyway. Riza and Herakles had brought some of the library parchments with them, hoping to read some more. They occasionally asked Eira for clarifications on various names and dates. Needless to say, we were all busy here. Amelia was in constant communication with Derek, Serena, and Lumi.