“Soon enough, my dear. Once Zen’Naphalia is over, and our investigations are complete, you can continue on home to see your family.”
Diana sighed heavily and gazed out her room’s window into the blackness of the night’s sky. “What exactly does an Inquisitor do?” she asked, returning her attention to Darien. “In our culture, they worked for the Church in search of witches and other heretics.”
“Yes well, your church inquisitors were nothing but overzealous miscreants who believed that anything out of the ordinary was demonic, and then murdered countless innocent people on account of their own ignorance.”
Diana couldn’t really disagree with his assessment.
“Our Inquisition is the hammer of the Ardeqai Order.”
“What are the Ardeqai?” Diana asked. “I heard that word earlier today.”
“The Ardeqai are the Guardians of Balance.” Darien said the words with a sense of pride and admiration. “The Ardeqai seek out and eliminate the dark forces that bring corruption to the Mother and end all threats to the Temple of the Fallen.”
“Overzealous priests with swords,” Diana said with a shrug. “Sounds the same to me.”
Darien made to say something in a critical response to Diana’s comments—wanting to tell her she was wrong—but stopped short, knowing that she was right.
She plastered a smug smile on her face.
“You vex me, Diana Selene,” he said with playful frustration.
“Isn’t that what you like about me?”
“Yes well, your particular charms will be wasted on an overzealous priest with a sword like Turion Skywhisper, so will you please ease my mind and stay in your cabin?”
“Fine,” she said begrudgingly.
“Thank you,” Darien said with satisfaction. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I know,” she said “Just keep an eye on Emily for me, okay?”
“Of course.” He picked up a scrap of paper with some of Diana’s Vanicar scribbling on it. “You’re making excellent progress; I’m proud of you.”
“Docharithni,” she gave her thanks in the Naphalei tongue.
“You are most welcome. Though your mix of informal and formal forms makes you sound like a lower class thrall. It’s better if you say docharith or tô charithni.”
“Cúl’Tonarth,” Diana replied with a playful scowl.
Darien chuckled at her insult. “I don’t believe that one is in the standard vocabularies.”
“Emily taught it to me,” she replied with a wide smile. It was the Naphalei equivalent of Ass-Hat.
The rest of their evening together was spent continuing Diana’s studies of Vanicar, with Darien even teaching her some his own favorite colorful phrases before he left to return to his own cabin. When Diana’s yawns could no longer be stifled, and the time for bed had finally arrived, she had successfully read a portion of Masterworks of Elberon—the Naphalei Creation account in which the Father forms the Mother to be his bride.
Before the Dawn of Time, Elberon’s heart sang a wondrous melody that spilt his soulfire in two. The new fire danced and inspired the Father, filling him with the desire to create a beautiful form for the other half of his soul to inhabit. The Father spun the Wheel of Creation, sculpting the Mother’s body, and once they were finally together in the realm beyond Eternity, Elberon and Madaera danced the waltz of love and all was bliss.
As Diana drifted into sleep, her thoughts held visions of waltzes with Darien during Zen’Naphalia.
—
Diana awoke in the middle of the night when Mother Nature called louder than she ever had in the past. Even so, she was more than satisfied to have been in another blissfully mundane normal dream world away from the Veil—one of the perks of sleeping while flying across the clouds. According to Darien, the Veil had trouble calling to souls moving at high speeds.
Eager to answer the call as quickly as possible so she could get back to sleep, Diana whipped herself out of bed and put on her slippers for the cold walk down the three hallways to the servant’s restroom—which, to her great relief, had a fully functioning, human-style toilet.
Diana stepped out into the hallway to find the unlit corridor black as pitch—the luminaries had gone out and no one had bothered to relight them.
Figures. Only humans get up in the middle of the night to use the restroom. They obviously didn’t care if Diana’s people stumbled their way along in the dark.
She slipped back into her room and grabbed the flashlight from inside the bag of human essentials she’d hung in the closet. Switching it on, Diana began heading down the long corridor and into the darkness.
When she finally reached the women’s restroom she found it locked.
“Oh come on!” Diana groaned in frustration. She could see the light shining out from underneath the door.
“Sorry,” came a muffled voice from inside the ladies room. “I might be a while.”
“It’s fine,” Diana said in chagrined reply. “I guess I’m going for a soak.” She sleepily continued on through the dark corridors, slowly making her way to the level’s refreshment pools.
Using the “fresher,” as some called it, was still a strange practice to Diana but she found herself getting used to it. She couldn’t see herself running to the fresher every time she needed to use the restroom, but she had been making a nice soak part of her morning routine. Today she would just be going for her soak a little early. Perhaps a little too early, but what could she do? At this point, it’d be hard to fall back asleep anyway.
Diana walked through the entrance of the antechamber and wasn’t the least bit surprised to find the luminaries still lit. Switching off her flashlight, she went into the soak room to her immediate right and closed the curtain behind her. The process now routine, Diana slipped out of her nightgown, folded it up nicely, and then placed it on the bench before easing herself into the steaming hot water. Settling into a comfortable position, she inhaled the wonderful fragrances from the mixture of flowers, berries, herbs, and spices swirling about her person.
Diana would probably never get used to Naphalei restroom practices, but she had to admit, it was a rather enjoyable experience.
As she continued to soak, her mind began to wander to thoughts of Christmas. What should I get mom and dad? I bet I find some great presents in England. Hmm…How would I explain them, though?
Darien had thought it best that Diana not tell her parents that she had randomly decided on going overseas with her new boyfriend. He had a fair point; her dad would have gone crazy and tracked them down to put a bullet between Darien’s eyes. He was overprotective like that. Oh well, I’ll figure it out.
A sudden shiver rippled through Diana’s entire body and put all thoughts of Christmas on hold. She was soaking in steaming hot water, how could she be cold?
In spite of the heat enveloping her, the chill continued to course its way through Diana until it fixated itself in her chest—it was the feeling of intense magic. She’d gotten used to the slight twinges of cold constantly running through her person as the Naphalei patrons and servants used their magic each day, but this feeling was extremely different. It was deliberately seeking Diana out, searching for that divine piece of life that dwelled within her heart and reaching for it with an icy grip.
Diana opened her eyes, startled to find the entire refreshment spa covered in darkness—the lights had gone out. From within the blackness, she could make out a peculiar, faint, green glow dancing about the antechamber.
As the flickering light neared, the pit of Diana’s stomach wrenched with an overwhelming feeling of a desire so foul that it made the memory of the football players’ intentions towards Lani seem honorable by comparison. It was an indescribable, intensely lustful, hunger.
Diana froze in place. Hopefully, if she stayed absolutely silent and still, the being she felt would pass on and take its evil intentions far away from her.
“No need for that morsel,” said the silk
y smooth voice of a woman from within the antechamber. “I can smell your fear.”
In moments the curtain slowly opened, dramatically revealing a pair of eyes burning with green fire. The strange glow of the flames illuminated only the terribly beautiful face of a female Naphalei, making it seem as if it floated in the darkness of its own volition.
Fear welled up to bursting within Diana and she scrambled out of the pool towards the safety of the corner, grabbing a silk robe from the towel rack along the way. She hastily wrapped it around herself and faced the eerily burning floating eyes, her back to the wall.
“This one has some spirit,” said the floating face, edging slowly towards Diana. “The last was so frozen with fear that she barely flinched as I drained her.”
It was the Melkafir, and she’d found Diana alone and defenseless, soaking in the middle of the night like fresh stew.
Diana reached for the bench and swiftly grabbed her flashlight. Holding it up like a club, she was ready for whatever stand she was about to make.
The creature laughed to herself. “She’s even attempting to struggle, how sad,” said the illuminated face with a mock pout of her full lips. As the Melkafir chuckled, Diana’s eyes went wide at the sight of its sharp, and quite deadly, fangs.
What am I going to do? In a panic, Diana looked over every inch of the soak room for any way out—there was none. She was trapped like a fly in a spider’s web.
With no other options, Diana switched on the light.
The sudden brightness stung at her eyes but they adjusted quickly. With the illusion of the floating face gone, Diana finally beheld the Melkafir in its entirety. She had reddish-pink skin the color of roses, and above the strikingly beautiful face with glowing green eyes, a pair of large, curved, horns of black bone curled up and out of her forehead like those of a ram. She had long, flowing, red hair that went to the small of her back and her pointed elven ears were at least a foot longer than most Naphalei. Her form appearing to be mostly humanoid, the Melkafir wore a revealing black dress that would have been exquisite if it didn’t appear three sizes too small, her large bust barely fitting into the corset. The skirts split twice in the front, revealing her strong, bestial, legs, and once in the back for her powerful matching tail. She wore black, thigh-high, leather boots with the feet ripped off of them, revealing black claws that were monstrous but well kept.
The Melkafir had the air of a magnificent queen of demons.
“Like what you see?” the Melkafir asked seductively. “My beauty has drained the life out of many hearts.”
Her lips curled into an amused grin that revealed more of her dangerous teeth. “Speaking of hearts, I think I would like to drink your blood directly from the chamber.” She closed her glowing eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply through her nose. “You smell so…delicious.” The Melkafir shivered with delight.
Diana continued to stand in the corner, frozen with fear. Even when the creature got close, she doubted she could do anything to harm it.
“Hmm…you look a bit feisty,” the Melkafir declared, inspecting Diana. “We can’t have you damaging this beautiful face with your light stick, now can we? No kisses for you tonight.”
Diana had no idea what the creature meant by “kisses,” but she felt relieved when it stopped moving towards her.
The Melkafir suddenly lifted her clawed hand into the air, and when the creature flicked her wrist, Diana’s own wrist exploded in extreme agony as it left its place against the wall and was pulled towards the Melkafir with a magical force. Twinges of prickly pain quickly followed as something below her skin started moving, crawling its way towards her hand.
Diana screamed in horror and pain as her skin tore itself open and the blood began to pour from her artery like a fountain—a crimson spring pulled directly from her wrist and into the mouth of the Melkafir.
The pain was tremendous.
Writhing in agony, her life force feeding the dark powers that gave the demon immortality, Diana knew she was going to die.
Suddenly, it stopped.
With a reprieve from the excruciating pain, Diana fell to her knees and clutched hard at her wrist in an attempt to stop the bleeding. On pure instinct, she grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped it tightly around the ruptured skin.
Diana turned her gaze onto the Melkafir to see what had given her a stay from the agony. Her clawed hands caressing the length of her body, the creature moaned in pleasure and appeared to be in a state of unexpected euphoria. Diana took the opportunity to look for an escape, but saw none.
“My, my, my,” said the Melkafir, grinning with intense delight. Her wicked teeth were covered in Diana’s blood and red rivulets dripped from the corners of her mouth onto her chin. “What a glorious, and unexpected, surprise. I haven’t tasted one of your kind in over a millennium. And here I thought your particularly potent vintage to be permanently out of stock.”
“Wha—what are you talking about?” Diana asked, shaking from both fear and pain.
The creature laughed, finding Diana’s question hysterical. “And she doesn’t even know what a priceless delicacy she is—how exquisite.”
The Melkafir began slowly moving towards Diana again, looking very much like a black widow about to consume her mate.
“My precious morsel, you are a M—.” The word remained unspoken as the long blade of a sword erupted from her blood-covered mouth like a deadly silver tongue.
Diana couldn’t keep her eyes off of the weapon as it quickly slid backwards, through the open mouth and out the back of the creature’s head. Once free, the body of the Melkafir fell to the floor with a hard thud. Behind the corpse, Inquisitor Turion stood smirking in satisfied triumph, wiping the gore from his sword.
Diana continued to kneel in the corner, speechless.
“One wonders,” Turion said, continuing to clean his sword and never once glancing Diana’s way. “Why a Tanar girl would think it was safe to go for refreshment in the dark of night—alone—when she knows that one of the Forsaken is on the loose and hungering for her blood.”
His question roused Diana from her shocked stupor.
“I—it didn’t occur to me,” she replied, weakly. She had been too concerned with having to go to the bathroom to remember the deadly monster roaming the ship. What was she supposed to do; let her bladder explode, or just relieve herself in the corner of her cabin?
Turion finally took his eyes from his sword and looked to Diana, studying her.
“I recognize you now,” he said. “Endymion’s new thrall—the one my sister finds so offensive. I saw you with her handmaiden earlier.”
“Yes sir,” Diana said meekly, trying to sound cooperative. “My name is Diana; I have only been enthralled for a few weeks.”
“That would explain your apparent lack of common sense,” he said with condescension. “You are lucky not to be a dead husk lying on the ground beside that abomination. Once they begin to feed, they are not apt to stop.”
Diana, still clutching the towel around her bleeding wrist, found the notion curious as well. However, she wasn’t about to let Inquisitor Turion know of the Melkafir’s sudden unexpected pleasure at tasting her blood.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I thought I would be dead in moments, but you caught her off guard. Thank you.” Diana thought it best to appeal to the Inquisitor’s ego.
By the look on his face, Turion did not appear to be satisfied.
“Put your wrist in the water,” he said. “It will stop the blood flow and begin to heal the wound.”
Diana nodded and slowly inched to the edge of the soak pool. When the steaming water reached her wrist, she winced at the sting. It hurt for a moment, but in the good way that signifies purging and purification. It was nothing compared to the agony she had been in moments ago, however.
Diana closed her eyes, letting the magical water do its work. The bleeding had already stopped and the skin around the rupture was beginning to close and heal.
The sudd
en clang of metal hitting the floor caused Diana to open her eyes only to see Turion’s sword skipping across the tiles as the Inquisitor writhed on the floor with the Melkafir’s strong tail wrapped tightly around his legs. As he struggled, it continued to wind its way over the length of his body like a massive snake.
“Tis quite rude to interrupt someone whilst they are enjoying their supper,” the Melkafir said with impertinent anger. As she slowly lifted herself up off the floor, her green eyes burned with unchecked fury. The sword wound through her head had almost fully healed.
Diana made to run but the creature swiftly turned her head and pointed at her. As she did so, Diana felt her muscles stiffen and become unresponsive as the burning tingles in her veins returned anew.
The Melkafir had command of her blood.
“Ah, ah, ah, I’m not finished with you yet, morsel,” she said playfully. “Stay put while I dispose of this rude little lordling.”
“You had best kill me abomination,” the Inquisitor said with resolve as the Melkafir lifted him up off the ground by the strength in her tail. “I am not apt to make a mistake twice, I will see you dead.”
“Well well—an Ardeqai Inquisitor,” she said, taunting. “I do so love ridding the world of your self-righteous ilk.”
“Keep your bile to yourself, apostate,” Turion replied while struggling to free himself from the grip of the creature’s tail.
“Why do all egomaniacal zealots speak the same blather?” the creature asked Diana as if chatting over tea. “Is there a guide book the fools read on how to prattle on like idiots?” The Melkafir sighed heavily and then returned her gaze to Turion with her head tilted slightly to the side. “You bore me.”
Without giving the Inquisitor a moment to reply, she flung his body across the room. It struck the wall behind Diana with a sickening crash and he fell to the floor with a slump. He’d been knocked unconscious by the force of the blow.
Diana looked behind, staring at her one chance of hope lying in a pile. The remainder of the blood in her face suddenly drained away.
She tried to fight the terror threatening to consume her.
Moonshadow Page 28
