Tainted Blood Anthology

by Jeff Gunzel

  “Any who come to me will be given a fair chance to prove themselves. They will be judged on their actions, not on reputation or where they came from. If they are worthy, they will stay. If not, they will be forced to leave.”

  “And if they are undeniably evil?” Liam asked, daring to be so bold.

  “Then they will be executed as the traitors they are,” Viola answered without hesitation. “Examples will be made swiftly. They need to choose which side they are on and I will not show lenience on this matter. Too many have died already, and for what? I am no fool, Liam. I know others will die before this is over. But as of today, ignorance is no longer an excuse. If you choose to attack the humans willingly, then you have forfeited your life. Remaining neutral is no longer an option.”

  Liam found it difficult to hold her icy gaze, but he managed to do it anyway. Her blunt words served as a stark reminder of how different she really was from the scared little girl he once knew. That suddenly seemed so long ago. But her heart was still in the right place, her intentions still good, if not a bit colder and more callous than he remembered.

  “Very well,” Liam said, taking her by the hand. “Your choice has been made and I will stand by your side. You have made a commitment, and for better or worse I will help you see it to the end.”

  *

  “Are you nervous?” Lindsey asked, helping Xavier put on his new fancy vest. Here in the back room of the tavern, they could hear the mumbles of a rather large crowd forming just outside the door. Word had spread of the new entertainer who would be performing at The King’s Head this evening. A few people had already seen some of what he could do, and were eager to see a bit more.

  “Nah,” Xavier answered, holding his ear to the door. He didn’t realize how much he missed these sounds. Mugs clinking, patrons laughing along with the occasional squeal of a barmaid getting her rear pinched. It was all music to his ears. “Performing never makes me nervous. But I admit, it’s been a long time, so I might be a bit rusty.” He glanced at his new vest, then pulled back the collar to glance down at his numerous stitches. She had done a fine job patching up his wounds. “Oh, and thanks again for putting me back together. This night wouldn’t be happening if not for you.”

  After the barkeep settled everyone down, he called out a brief introduction before stepping away from the bar. Then he started clapping to get the other patrons going. “You’re on,” Lindsey squealed, briskly clapping her hands as she bounced up and down on her toes. Good luck, she mouthed silently.

  “Luck has nothing to do with it,” he said, flashing her a quick wink before throwing back the door. The crowd continued clapping with a few whistles mixed in. The timing felt good. The restless group was all liquored up and ready to be entertained. Xavier could have probably just told a bad joke or two and still gotten a modest ovation.

  Bringing a white gloved finger up to his lips, Xavier hushed the room. He knew that in order to perform at a top level, he needed to control the crowd. He needed to be able to make them feel suspense, joy or laughter at the drop of a hat. How to control the room was one of the first lessons any entertainer learned. Do that, and they were yours for the night. Pulling out a gold coin from inside his vest, he rolled it over his hand, dancing it across the back of his knuckles.

  “You, sir,” he said, snapping out his hand, stopping the coin just short of hitting the man in the face. “Heads or tails?” he asked, pinching it between two fingers.

  “Er...tails,” the drunk man said, swaying in his seat, wearing an ear-to-ear grin. A sprinkling of boos assaulted him from all around the room. “Wait, no...er, heads.” A second wave of boos rained down, prompting him to realize there probably was no answer that would satisfy this group. He waved around as if shooing bees away, then slapped the top of the bar. “Heads!” he barked, pointing right in Xavier’s face to ensure him that this was the answer he was sticking with.

  “Very well,” Xavier said, flicking the coin into the air. Spinning like a top, it sparkled and flashed, reflecting the light from the room’s numerous yellow lanterns. At the last second, Xavier held out his hand. Landing right on its side, the coin balanced upright in the palm of his hand.

  “Hey,” the man protested, swaying over the top of it to get a better look. He blinked several times, possibly trying to decide if it was the ale messing with his vision. “You cheated.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Xavier said, feigning hurt feelings. “That happens sometimes. Let me try again.” He flicked the coin up a second time and watched it tumble. Stepping aside, he let it hit the bar top where it bounced once, then began to wobble in place. But instead of slowing down, it began to speed up. Spinning faster and faster, it twirled itself upright before coming to a stop. Once again it balanced on its side and the crowd began to laugh and clap. It was unclear if they were laughing at the trick or the poor man who couldn’t seem to catch a break.

  “It is not heads, I’m afraid,” Xavier said, poking the balanced coin with his finger. The man just scowled at the coin. “But since it’s not tails either, I declare it a draw. You may keep it, my friend.” When he handed the coin to the man, his scowl vanished. Beaming, he bit the coin before shoving it in his pocket. He turned around and raised his hand triumphantly as if he had actually done anything worthy of applause. But the good-natured crowd clapped for him anyway.

  Turning around, Xavier snatched a bottle and glass off the shelf behind him and set them both down. Popping the cork, brown liquor began to fill the glass with a glugging sound. Acting like the audience was no longer there, he circled the glass beneath his nose, waggling his eyebrows as if about to enjoy some fine wine. There came a spattering of snickers as the crowd wondered what he was up to. Reaching down below the bar, he retrieved eight small torches and set them on the bar top. He picked up the glass once more, but started eyeing the bottle beside it instead. Seeming to change his mind, he snatched the bottle and took a large gulp. That prompted a host of cheers.

  After tossing it back over his shoulder, allowing it to smash against the wall in a spray of glass and liquor, he scooped up the torches and began to juggle them. Spinning about him in perfect circles, he extended his arms so they were out away from his body. People were clapping and cheering, and several began banging on tables. They had seen jugglers before, but someone who could juggle so many items at once was a rarity. Letting the rotating circle sink lower and lower, he allowed the ends of the torches to dip into the glass one by one while still keeping them in motion. With an eye flicker towards the back door, Lindsey came running out right on cue. Holding a lit torch herself, she raised it up above his head.

  Spitting over the lit torch, a ball of fire erupted just above his head. Folk near the bar dropped back from the heat, patting the tops of their heads, believing their hair had just been singed. The dancing torches ignited, their blazing ends twirling about. The tavern exploded with cheers. He really was exactly what the rumors said he was. Xavier continued for several more minutes, even catching some behind his back before flipping them up over his shoulder again, all the while never missing a beat.

  Eventually, Lindsey came out from the back and set a bucket of water down near his feet. Throwing the blazing torches straight up, Xavier stepped back and let them fall into the bucket with a hiss of stream. Taking a final bow, a suddenly disappointed crowd called for more as he slipped away into the back along with Lindsey.

  Always leave them wanting more. That was another lesson he had learned a long time ago. It ensured he could pack this place night after night if he chose to.

  “You were great!” Lindsey said, shaking Xavier by the shoulders as she hopped up and down. But his smile became a grimace as he leaned to the side, bringing a hand up to his ribs. As her smile vanished, she bent down and gently pulled his hand away. Red was seeping through the fabric of his shirt. One of his wounds must have reopened during the show. “Here, let me help you.” When he tried to wave her off, insisting he was fine, she grew even more assertive an
d throw one of his arms over her shoulder. “Come on then. One step at a time.”

  She helped him up the steps and into his room. The room was part of the bargain for him to keep performing for the tavern. Free meals and a private room was a pretty good deal as far as Xavier was concerned. After helping him take off his shirt, she could see it really wasn’t all that bad. As long as the stitches were still holding, he just needed to stop moving around so the cut could heal properly.

  “Thank you, again,” Xavier said, his head flopping back against the pillow. He sank down into its softness, thinking he just might drift off within the next couple of seconds. It had been so long since he’d had a real bed that he forgot what it was like. Weary from the show, eyes fluttering shut, he jolted a bit when he realized he was not yet alone in the room. He blinked, watching curiously as Lindsey still sat on the side of his bed.

  “I was just...wondering,” she began, not quite sure how to form her question.

  “Wondering what?” Xavier asked, struggling to sit back up.

  “I’m not sure where you came from and I don’t know how long you will be staying with us. But, wherever it is you call home, do you have anyone waiting for you? You know, someone special?” With her hands wringing the fabric of her dress, she looked nervous for the first time.

  The flash of pain in his eyes was obvious to her. Any woman knew that look. “Not anymore,” he said, looking away.

  “I see,” she said softly, moving up the bed to sit closer to him. They sat in silence for a time, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. In their own way, each was just enjoying the other’s company. After a time, Lindsey moved her hand over to rest on top of his. When he didn’t pull away, she spoke again. “My name is Lindsey.” He turned to look at her, a questioning look on his face. “What I mean is, I’m not her and I’m not going to pretend to be.”

  With her other hand, she slowly began unbuttoning the top of her dress. Xavier watched but said nothing. With one breast exposed, she stopped unbuttoning and looked up at him again. “I have no intention of trying to take her place in your heart. I already know that I can’t. But maybe, just maybe, I can help you forget about her, if only for one night.”

  Lost in her eyes, Xavier found he could not look away. For that, he hated himself. But he knew she was right. Although no one could ever take Viola’s place in his heart, he needed a friend right now. He needed companionship.

  What is the harm? After all, it is just for just one night...

  Chapter 5

  Low-hanging branches scraped across Assirra’s face as she stumbled through the dense brush. Needing a rest, she stopped near an old tree, its gnarled bark peeling away with even more strips scattered along the ground. Bracing her arm against it to cushion her forehead, she leaned into it, closing her eyes while drawing several deep breaths. Even breathing the thick, steamy air was a labored effort. Each warm breath seemed to further zap her strength.

  Rubbing the back of her neck, a bunch of sticky grime rolled up beneath her fingers. A rash was also forming and it was getting worse by the day. She figured it would continue to do so until she could find some way to bathe, or stop sweating altogether. When a high-pitched hum buzzed in her ear, she slapped the side of her head and groaned. She couldn’t stop moving for any period of time without that happening. These aggressive insects were going to drive her mad.

  But she knew these minor annoyances were the least of her problems. Finding food and water had become a far more pressing concern. Her throat was so dry that she could hardly swallow, and her tongue felt like a piece of dry sandpaper, gritty and rough. Desperate for only a few drops of water, she reached up to one of the low-hanging branches and carefully bent it down. She cursed when it slipped from her hand, sending a spray of scattered droplets into the air. She quickly opened her mouth and tried to rush through the spray, but didn’t even manage to catch a single drop.

  She cursed again, but was also encouraged at the same time. There had to be more where that came from. Hanging on tight this time, she bent down another branch and saw the drips of dew beading up on top of the leaves. She sucked them off one by one. Given her state of thirst, they might as well have been droplets of sweet wine. After an hour or so of repeating the inefficient process, she managed to somewhat quench her burning thirst. A full glass of water would still have been a welcome sight, but at least she no longer felt as if she was going to pass out.

  But after having just enough water to tide her over, Assirra was now reminded of just how hungry she was. Unlikely to find any sort of wild vegetables growing on a forest floor, she searched for the only thing she was confident would be there. Then, unfortunately, she found it. Plucking a fuzzy white caterpillar off a tree, she eyed it a moment as it twisted and curled between her fingers. Stalling, she tried to think of some way to make this go easier. Her stomach rumbled again, reminding her of what she needed to do.

  Just don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about—

  She slammed it into her mouth, hoping the added momentum would help it go down faster. It didn’t. In fact, her plan to swallow it whole didn’t work at all because her mouth was still too dry to swallow the fuzzy thing. Cringing, she bit down on the squirming hair tube if only to make it stop moving. It popped, spurting a glob of bitter goo against the inside of her mouth.

  Unable to go through with it, she spit the mangled bug on the ground, then kept on spitting to help get rid of every hair and leg still clinging to her tongue. It wasn’t worth it. Not only had she not gotten any sustenance from it, but she ended up spitting out a fair amount of precious moisture to rid herself of the taste. As hungry as she was, she couldn’t even fathom the idea of trying that again. She would have to find some smaller insects later on when she was ready.

  Throwing her back against the tree, she resisted the urge to start crying. Yes, she was hungry and thirsty, but things could be much worse. At least she was free. Only a few days ago she could not have made such a claim. After being sentenced to death at the hands of a mad king, she finally knew what true terror was. But it was not her god that saved her. When push came to shove, the all-knowing, all-powerful being whom she had dedicated her entire life to serving was nowhere to be seen. It was the quick thinking of her humans friends that saved her, not her god.

  Mentally reliving her finally moments in Shadowfen, Assirra could still see Thatra’s eyes as they closed for the last time. She reached out to grab the image in front of her, as if believing she could somehow still stop the horrible event which had already come to pass. Snapping out of her daydream, she glanced down at her empty hands. These hands had failed her. Her god had failed her. It wasn’t fair, but she had learned her lesson. Never again would she rely on the gods for anything. From this day forward, her power would always come from within. And she knew just the person who could help her with that.

  I must be getting close. It can’t be much farther now.

  She pushed herself off the tree and kept on going, spurred on with a renewed sense of urgency. She knew it was quite possible she might die out here if she did not find some shelter and a source of food soon. Eating bugs and licking the dew off leaves would only sustain her for so long. But it’s wasn’t long before she lost the trail completely. In hindsight, she was not really all that sure that there even was a trail to begin with. Here, the brush was so thick that she found herself having to push her way through, inch by inch.

  At first she took the time to keep plucking the clinging fabric of her clothes off the thorns and branches, trying not to rip any more holes than there already were. But she soon abandoned the inefficient tactic, seeing as she couldn’t take a step without getting hooked on something else. Knowing that her life may very well be at risk, she began pushing straight through the vegetation, ignoring the cuts forming on her arms and legs, her clothes tearing more with each step.

  After another hour or so, her pace began to slow. There were so many cuts on her legs that she could no lon
ger distinguish one from another. Her legs just appeared to be painted red. Ignoring the tingling burn, Assirra kept telling herself she would rest at the next tree, maybe just past that next bush. But a part of her was afraid that if she stopped, that just might be the end of her journey.

  No, I must keep going. One foot in front of the other. Must not give up. Must keep goin—

  Breaking through another wave of the seemingly endless brush, she stumbled into a clearing. There were still several trees and small bushes around, but at least they were easy enough to traverse. Thankful for the minor relief in rough terrain, she eyed the cuts on her arms and legs. As if seeing it somehow made it more real, they began to burn more fiercely.

  Her clothes were practically rags with spots of red all over. Resisting the urge to scratch her wounds, she weaved around a few more bushes before stopping. Straining to see in the partially shaded light, she saw a slight discoloration up against the side of a small cliff just ahead. A door of some kind? It was so grown over with vines and wild greenery that she nearly missed it.

  Stepping lightly, she made her way towards it. Even knowing approximately where she saw it last, she seemed to constantly lose sight of the cream-colored doorway. It was hidden so well, it made her wonder how she ever saw it in the first place. Tiptoeing around another bush, she ducked down and looked at what appeared to be a small hut built right up against a dirt wall. Abandoned? Only one way to be certain. Perhaps whoever lived here had left some preserved food lying around! It was a long shot, but Assirra was desperate.