E.V.I.E.: 13 Slayers, 13 Missions

by Lexi C. Foss

  “Adrienne, my darling, put her down,” a familiar voice said softly, yet firmly from the doorway behind her.

  A rumble sounded in Adrienne’s chest, more a warning to the owner of the voice behind her than anything.

  “She is your daughter. She is so much like your own mother. Look at her, do you see it?” the voice asked her.

  Adrienne’s brow creased as she looked at the baby still held aloft by her own hands. The baby kicked her little feet and struggled to hold her head up to look back at Adrienne. Then she did see it. This baby was so familiar.

  “Her name is Solange. Do you remember, Adrienne?”

  Adrienne slowly brought the baby closer to her face. Her mouth fell opened as she pressed her nose to the baby’s chest once more, revealing the tiny pinpoints of her still developing fangs.

  Solange reached out with both hands and gripped Adrienne’s greasy, dirty hair where it fell, plastered against her temples and her cheeks.

  Adrienne tried to pull back a bit, but Solange held tight. When finally Adrienne pulled back enough to look into the baby’s face, Solange cooed at her, offering a slobbery, toothless grin.

  Adrienne’s face crumpled into a grimace as bloodstained tears tracked their way down her face. This was her little girl. This baby knew her, trusted her.

  “Solange,” Adrienne whispered.

  “Yes. Solange. And she’s yours,” Marceline said, her own voice cracking, both with fear for the child, and heartbreak at what her granddaughter had become.

  Slowly Adrienne laid Solange back in her crib, then covered her with her soft blanket as she sobbed and patted the baby’s leg before backing away from the crib and moving toward the window at the other end of the room that still offered a sliver of sunlight between the heavy drapes covering the window.

  “Adrienne?” Marceline said, warningly. Trying to caution Adrienne about moving too close to the windows, to the sunlight that would certainly cause her harm.

  Adrienne hurried to the window before she had time to consider her decision. She reached it and turned, pushing her back against the drapes. She raised her red-glowing eyes to her grandmother and whispered the only words she’d said other than the name of the male that had ruined her, since she’d been left in labor in the courtyard by that same cursed male. “Forgive me.”

  “It is not your fault, my darling. We will find a way to reverse it.”

  Adrienne shook her head frantically. “There is no other way.” Then her eyes went to the crib. “Love Solange. Prepare her. Make her strong.”

  “Adrienne…” Marceline said, taking a step toward Adrienne and the window she stood in front of.

  “No!” Adrienne shouted. “Stay there!” she shrieked. Then she turned and faced the tall, stained glass window she knew was hidden behind the heavy drapes. She grasped the drapes and threw them back at the same time she screamed in agony as the colorfully tinted sunlight fell upon her flesh, causing sizzling and rancid smoke to spontaneously waft from her spindly arms and chest. Adrienne took a deep breath and screamed a heart wrenching howl as she stepped back before charging at the window and hurling herself through it. Her scream followed her down, down, to the sunny, bright courtyard below, where her body combusted into flames before it even landed on the slate paving stones covering the courtyard.

  Marceline shouted, begging Adrienne to stop, but it made no difference. Her beloved granddaughter threw herself out of the stained glass window, plummeting to her death two stories below. Marceline rushed to the window, leaning out to better see the courtyard, screaming Adrienne’s name every step of the way. But it was too late. There was nothing left of Adrienne, but a small scattering of ashes, a spark of flame still flickering here and there. Marceline dropped to her knees, sobbing and calling Adrienne’s name.

  And behind her, lying in her crib, Solange cried out, sobbing uncontrollably for the first time since her birth, feeling the loss of her mother. A mother that she’d never know, yet even as an infant was inexplicably connected to by a magic they both shared.

  Marceline, urged to her feet by the screams of the baby in the crib across the room from her, rushed to the baby. Using her body to block the shafts of sunlight from the child, thinking that the reason for the baby’s cries, she scooped the baby up in her arms, checking for burns, checking for anything to indicate the sunlight had harmed her. On seeing Solange unharmed, Marceline sank to her knees once again, cradling Solange to her chest. A smile on her face, mixed with the tears of grief streaming down her cheeks. She pressed her lips to Solange’s forehead. “At least we now know the sunlight won’t hurt you, little one,” she murmured before losing her ability to speak through the tears.

  Somewhere in the world, a master vampire, having slipped totally into insanity, paused in his hunt and fell to his knees. A pain unlike any he’d ever experienced momentarily crippling him.

  While he knelt there, panting, trying to breathe through the pain that would surely rip him in half, visions of a frightened, yet needy little female, kneeling before him her belly large and swollen, smiling up at him as he tore into his own wrist and fed her from his vein, flooded his mind.

  Somewhere in his demented brain, he realized the pain he felt was her spirit leaving this world for the next, and he smiled through the pain. Another vision filled his mind. That of a female, her dark hair piled high on her head, jewels at her throat, her ruby red lips pursed in disgust as he knelt before her begging her to save him. To join her life to his, to use her magic to save his worthless soul before he was too far gone and beyond any chance at all. But she’d laughed at him. Refused him.

  The picture in his mind shifted and the image of the beautiful young girl with the jewels decorating her body merged with the one of the elderly lady, grey hair swirled upon her head in much the same way as the young woman who scorned him in the gardens decades ago. Only now, she hurled insults and spells at him as he laughed at her attempt to keep him away from the granddaughter she so loved as the granddaughter labored to bring a child into the world — his child.

  The vampire plunged his clawed fist into the chest of his most recent victim, grasping the still beating heart and tearing it from the chest of the male before him. He brought it to his mouth, sinking his pointed teeth into it and sucking the blood from it. He grinned again, blood dripping from his chin. He raised his head. “You are welcome, Marceline,” he said aloud to the desecrated bodies strewn about him. “You are most welcome.”

  4

  Seventeen Years Later

  Solange watched her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her thick hair into a manageable ponytail high on her head. She sighed as she slipped on her black leggings and her matching black sports bra. She was tired. But training had to happen. It was nothing new. She’d been training all her life.

  Her earliest memories were of training. Her Sensei squatting down behind her when she was little more than a toddler, patiently placing her arms and hands in the right position, then looking down to arrange her feet and legs, only to have to address her hands again. Her Sensei was a Sixth Degree Black Belt in Ishinru Karate, a Second Degree Black Belt in Japanese Jiu Jitsu, a First Degree Black Belt in Japanese Judo, a Second Degree Black Belt in Philippino Escrima. He was a Master in the Art of Bladed Warfare, the Escrima Sticks, the Long Bow, and Psi’s, as well as a Master in the use of Japanese Katana — the art of using the long sword. And these weapons, thanks to her Sensei, had become second nature to her. She had no idea where Grandmama had found him, or how she’d convinced him to agree to train a little girl, a toddler at that, but she had. And he had. And now, at seventeen years old, she was a Third Degree Black Belt herself, with honors and skill sets that far outshone many who were twice her age, and that would one day rival his.

  She smiled thinking about her Sensei. He had become more than just a teacher to her. He’d become a role model. Someone to look up to. With gifts and beliefs to be emulated. Had she any goals other than murder and vengeance in mind, she’d have
aspired to be just like him. But she wasn’t that good of a person — she never would be. It just wasn’t in her to be good, and she was okay with that. Some people were inherently good, others inherently bad, and still others never even figured out what they were. At least she was lucky enough to have been taught to harness her inner evil and use it for good. Solange paused to think about it. Vengeance was good, right? It was delivering justice for those who couldn’t seek it for themselves. It was in her case anyway. Solange reached for her boxing gloves, left untouched for the last few days. She’d even taken boxing when Sensei had to leave town from time-to-time. He’d leave his son in his stead to come by and work out with her. He was a professional boxer, and was never disappointed in the speed with which she picked up the drills and footwork he taught her.

  Where most girls her age were flirting with the boys in school, buying fancy dresses, or having highlights put in their hair, and planning senior prom, she started with weapons training at 4:00 A.M. each morning. Then she’d dutifully finish her home schooling, practice her craft — witchcraft that is, and eat every little healthy meal and snack placed before her every three hours. She practiced the old Latin spells her great-grandmother insisted she learn and be able to repeat verbatim in her sleep, and she practiced her gymnastics. She did it all or some combination thereof every single day.

  She sat dressed and ready to go, on the edge of her bed in the very room she was born in, and took a small 5 x 7 sized framed photo off her nightstand. She cradled the photo in her hand and gently ran the fingers of her right hand down the face of the girl in the photo. She seemed so shy, so quiet, and kind. Solange’s eyes misted over and blinked away the tears. Grandmama had never lied to her about her beginnings. She knew she was the result of a vampire’s attack on her mother. She knew her mother had thrown herself out of the second floor window to protect Solange from her own hunger. And she knew she’d been cursed from the moment she was conceived. But that was okay. She’d made peace with it. To some extent, anyway. And she saw it as her right to defend her mother’s honor. To destroy the male that had destroyed her mother, and to take vengeance into her own hands. It was her sole focus in life. Kill vampires. All vampires. At least until she found the one. The one that had created her, then, she’d have to see how she felt afterward.

  Solange lifted the photo to her lips and kissed it. “I’m going to get him, Mom. Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” She replaced the photo on her nightstand and stood. She leaned over touching the floor, then stretching even further, placed her hands on the floor between and even a few inches behind her feet. She held the position for a moment then straightened and twisted her back first one way, then the other. Working the soreness out of her muscles from this morning’s workout. Sensei Advinadeto may have been her Sensei, but he surely didn’t take it easy on her. Every inch of progress she made, she fought for — she even on occasion bled for. And she’d have it no other way.

  She needed everything she could take away from her training. Even on the days she happened to see girls her own age in town and became momentarily envious of their easy, superficial lives, she still wouldn’t trade with them. She had a vengeance to deliver. A vengeance that would never allow her to rest, until it was delivered. And she renewed her promise to her mother every single day just to be sure that the promise was fresh in her mind, fresh off her lips, fueling her heart and soul.

  She left her third floor bedroom and started down the grand staircase to the first floor. She was only eight steps down from the third level when her Sensei launched an attack on her. She was lifted off her feet from behind, her Sensei holding her by the throat, as a real attacker would do. Solange lifted her body and using the strength of his hold on her, swung her feet up and over his head, breaking his hold on her throat and forming her own hold on his throat from behind. She held him tight, her arm across his throat, her other hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling for added tension across his throat, one leg wrapped around his abdomen, holding his arms down so that he couldn’t pry her off.

  She waited until he tapped out, letting her know she’d won. Then she thought about it for a second, until he tapped out more insistently before she let go and dropped to her feet, immediately moving back up two stairs to keep her distance in case he was faking it to attack her again.

  “Very good, Solange. Very good,” he complimented, chuckling while he rubbed his sore throat on his way down the stairs, glancing back at her every once in a while to make sure she was following.

  “What will we begin with today?” she asked, following him, though still at a distance.

  “What would you like to start with?” Sensei Advinadeto asked.

  “I think, Katana. I’d like to start with the blades,” Solange answered. She was very adept, very talented with the blades, and training with them was a very easy training session for her.

  “Excellent,” Sensei answered. “Then we shall begin with Jiu Jitsu.” He glanced back to find her rolling her eyes. She should have known better. She answered with the choice that was easiest for her, and he’d known that. So, he’d chosen an option that she hadn’t, realizing she wasn’t as comfortable with the other choices as she was her blades. He was always thinking, always teaching, even in what seemed a simple conversation.

  Hours later, Solange dripped with sweat as she made her way back to the third floor of the mansion to clean up and get ready for dinner. Dinner for Grandmama was a relatively formal affair. All of the sisters of the coven living in the mansion were expected to attend if at all possible. Grandmama always had a full meal, three courses at least laid out on the huge dining room table. Silverware, fine bone china, and crystal glassware were always used. One didn’t need to dress formally, but one was not expected to show up in sweats and workout gear either.

  As she moved past Grandmama’s office door, she heard her Grandmama’s voice raise as she spoke, and paused to listen. “I do not care what your concerns and opinions are. She is not ready. When she is, the choice will be hers.”

  Solange listened, almost sure they were speaking of her.

  There was a pause before Grandmama spoke again. “I am well aware of your organization, and have been for quite some time. While I respect your mission and your energies, I cannot speak for Solange. She will have to make her own choices when the time comes.”

  Another pause. Then, “You are correct, she has trained all her life for exactly the same purpose, but her focus is much more finite. She is interested in only one particular male, not the race as a whole.”

  Solange wondered who was speaking to her Grandmama, and why they were interested in her and her desired vengeance. No one outside her very small, very private circle, should be aware of her plans.

  “I shall keep that in mind, but regardless, the time is not now. If we decide to entertain your offer, we will contact you. Good evening, Gillian.” The line disconnected, and Solange hurried silently up the stairs to her own room before she was caught eavesdropping.

  Gillian Laurant ended the call she’d been on and sat back in her chair. She shook her head and raised both hands to her face to press the heels of her hands into her eyes. She had a tension headache. She was under pressure from headquarters to contribute to the hunt for the vampire who’d become the most prolific, senseless murderer in all the history of E.V.I.E.

  E.V.I.E. was the acronym for the organization she worked for. She was in fact the cell director for the New Orleans branch of E.V.I.E. — Eliminate Vampiric Influences Everywhere. And they’d been watching the young great granddaughter of Marceline De’Mers, head of the LaCelle Coven, as she came into her own. They wanted her for their own missions, their own agendas, and hopefully, if they could manage to get past Marceline to speak to the girl alone, she’d agree they could be beneficial to each other and join them.

  Gillian ignored the ringing of the land line sitting on the desk in her office, allowing it to go to voice mail instead. Then her personal cell phone began to buzz, vibrating its way ac
ross the slick wooden surface of her desk. Gillian huffed out a sigh and sat forward long enough to snatch her phone off the desk and look at the screen to see who was calling her. Great — it was her boss, Jude. Jude had no sense of humor, at all. Add to that the fact that he’d been riding her ass to get to the bottom of the psychotic vampire they’d been tracking for the last seventeen years, and this was not a happy phone call to answer.

  “Jude, how are you?” she answered.

  “Did she agree?” he asked, choosing to ignore all pleasantries.

  “She’s only seventeen Jude. She’s not completed her training, and Marceline refuses to give us access to her to even present ourselves as an option until she feels the girl is ready.”

  “Until she feels the girl is ready…” Jude echoed.

  “Yes.”

  “The girl’s got more training than most of our agents already working on this case! She’s been trained since she was barely able to stand. How much more ready could she get?!” Jude shouted in frustration.

  “I know that. But she is still just seventeen years old. And she has a right to make her choices as she grows into adulthood. She can’t be forced into E.V.I.E. if she’s not interested.”

  “Gillian, it is your job, no — your duty, to see to it that this girl chooses E.V.I.E. versus working alone. Are we clear?”

  “If I coerce her into working with us, for us, doesn’t it make her choice moot, not really her own choice?”

  “Would you rather this vampire continue to murder multiple souls at will. He’s escalating, Gillian. I don’t need to explain this to you, you are already aware. He’s escalating, and our people haven’t been able to even contain him, much less track him.”