The Culling (Book 2): The Hollow:

by Bell, A. C.

  Ache was written all over his face as I yelled. He didn’t follow when I hurried past him. The air inside the crypt was instantly colder, like walking under an air-conditioner. Glowing orbs of light clung to the ceiling and lead me to one of the rooms lined with burial crypts in the walls. Marcus must have put the lights up. More luminescent orbs clung to the ceiling in the room and bathed it in an ataractic ambiance. Worg, Kendra, and Slade were all inside standing around a six-foot-long table that had been covered in a white cloth that touched the floor. In a way, the scene was beautiful.

  The draugr we were here to see was lying flat on the table, completely still. I wasn’t altogether certain he was awake. His appearance was much like Worg’s. His skin was frail, sunken, deep purple or black with atrophy in many spots. The skin on his bald head clung tightly to the form of his skull and he was so thin it was unimaginable to think he had held himself upright long enough to walk here from wherever he had been, as Worg said they always did.

  I stuffed my cold hands into the pockets of my cream-colored wool coat—Worg had encouraged us not to wear black. This ceremony was supposed to alleviate the draugr’s pain, not remind him of what he was losing by making it feel like a funeral.

  “Where is Mr. Alden?” Worg inquired lightly.

  “He’ll need a minute.” I tried to keep my steely mood out of my voice.

  Slade drew closer and leaned beside me against the wall. His brows pulled together. “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s Nikki’s biological father,” I muttered.

  Slade’s eyes widened and his mouth fell ajar. The room waited in silence until Marcus’s footsteps echoed down the hall. He hesitated when he passed me by the door but returned his attention to his job. He set a briefcase that I hadn’t noticed the existence of beside the stone table and checked the vitals of the draugr. The elderly man’s eyes fluttered open, but he barely stirred. Even his eyelids almost seemed too heavy to hold open.

  “Aristok is very wary,” said Worg concernedly.

  “He has been in weather much too warm and wet for far too long. His condition has progressed much farther than it should have. I’m surprised he made it here.” Marcus spoke so quietly I could barely hear him. I hoped Aristok was too out of it to hear, as well.

  “You’re talking about him like he’s not here,” I mumbled grumpily.

  “He isn’t lucid enough to actually hear us.” Marcus moved to stand at the draugr’s head and held his hands on either side of the man’s ears. He closed his eyes as if to meditate. Beneath his eyelids, his irises flitted around the way they do in REM sleep.

  “I think he’s talking to him,” Slade whispered.

  “Sorcerer’s can learn telepathy?”

  “Not many.”

  “Where does that kind of power come from?”

  “Sh.” Kendra glared at us from the other side of the room. Her dark eyes moved between Aristok and Worg, no doubt picturing Worg in Aristok’s place. We respectfully piped down.

  After a few minutes of tense silence, Marcus opened his eyes again. “Alright, he’s ready.”

  Slade and Kendra both stepped up to the table and Slade motioned for me to follow. Why was I nervous? I steadied my breathing at Slade’s side and met Aristok’s cloudy eyes. I offered a warm smile, which he drowsily returned before his droopy eyelids fell shut again.

  Marcus wove his hand at the empty space beside him and a tiny wooden table appeared with a crackle. He set the briefcase on it and revealed five vials strapped down inside, four of which contained a different colored liquid. He picked up the empty vial, the largest of the five, and poured the contents of two of the others into it, then swirled it gently so the mixture could culminate. Oddly, the rosy pink and sapphire blue turned lime green when mixed together. He added a murky white liquid next and the contents turned black and then he added the black liquid from the last vial. He swirled it and tapped the glass a few times and the contents turned completely clear once again.

  “This won’t taste good,” he muttered apologetically to Aristok. The draugr nodded stiffly and opened his mouth. Like Worg, he had a set of pearly white dentures adhered to his gums. Marcus poured the potion down Aristok’s gullet. Though he grimaced, Aristok downed the stuff and took a deep breath.

  Worg clasped his hand. “Goodnight, old friend.”

  Now it was a waiting game while it took hold. Marcus held his hands beside the draugr’s head again, muttering inaudibly. Was he casting a spell to accompany the potion or simply tracking Aristok’s consciousness? Aristok’s breathing slowed until it was barely perceptible. After a while, Marcus opened his eyes once more and checked Aristok’s vitals again.

  “It’s done.”

  He snapped his fingers and Aristok’s body levitated above the table. As he rose, lights like the ones on the ceiling appeared beneath him, as if carrying him. His still form drifted over to the burial crypt that was left open for him and he was eased inside to finally rest after his long and painful life. I risked a glance at Worg. He looked peaceful except for the tear streak down his cheek as he watched the face of the crypt levitate off the floor and slide into place. Marcus stepped up to the crypt and gestured with his index and middle fingers, making a square shape in the air. Light seeped through the rim of the crypt as he did, sealing it with magic so Aristok could not be disturbed.

  Worg dipped his head. He was now the last of his people.

  No one spoke, for fear of breaking the reverence in the room. Worg eventually turned to retire to his room and Kendra followed. Marcus now began to pack up his things so I hurried to the hall before Slade could leave as well and leave me alone with Marcus.

  “Wait,” Slade murmured after me. The glowing orbs on the ceiling cast his shadow on the floor like a kaleidoscope around him. “Before you go, I’ve called an assembly of the remaining Viesci. They’ll be here next weekend. I thought you might want to come.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I doubt any of them will feel any different about me than Kendra.”

  “She doesn’t hate you. She’s like that with everyone.”

  “Not everyone is related to the woman she blames for stealing her father away.”

  His eyes softened. “At least think about it.”

  “I will. You should go be with him.”

  He nodded. “Thank you for coming.”

  I smiled in response and high-tailed it out of there as soon as he turned around. The snowfall had lightened when I got outside. I hurried back into the forest before Marcus could try to talk again. It felt odd to be trudging through a beautiful winter-grasped forest by myself. Much too serene for the hectic mess that had been my life recently.

  Back on the road, Raiden was sitting on the hood of his car staring forlornly down at the snow on the road. His cold, pink hands were clasped together and his elbows were perched on his knees. He looked so sad. I chewed on the inside of my lip and approached slowly so I wouldn’t startle him out of his thoughts. When he heard the snow crunch beneath my boots, he scooted over to give me room and I slid onto the hood beside him.

  “Are you okay?”

  He laughed wryly. “I don’t think that should be your first question.”

  “I hope this doesn’t come out wrong, but you’re over two hundred years old. Believe it or not, I don’t expect you to have never made mistakes just like I hope you don’t expect me to be perfect, either.”

  He sighed and looked out at the snow drifting lazily across the street. “I messed up, Adeline. Someone got hurt.”

  “You don’t have to tell me what you did. We haven’t known each other for very long, so I’m not expecting you to tell me your deepest secrets.”

  “Even if it makes me a terrible person?”

  “No, you’re not.” I put my hand in his and leaned closer. “You’re a good man. One mistake doesn’t change that, not even a terrible one,” I argued. He gripped my hand softly in both of his and I could feel them warming up in my grip. We sat quietly for a whi
le. When he finally looked over, I smiled.

  “Can I show you something?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I said with a nod.

  He reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. I leaned over curiously and he pulled a large gold coin from the flap. It read “To Thine Own Self Be True” in an arc around the top and the triangle in the middle was framed with the words “Unity, Service, Recovery”. A circle inside the triangle had an “8”. It was a sobriety chip, I realized.

  “I’ve struggled with alcoholism throughout the years.” He placed the chip in my hand and I ran my thumb over the number. Eight years. Hadn’t Raiden also told that woman at the law firm that he had left eight years ago? I stopped myself from asking if there was a connection. He would tell me when he was ready for me to know.

  Raiden looked nervous when I looked up at him again, so I offered a smile. “It takes a lot of courage to fight something like this,” I said. He looked down coyly and laced his fingers together. “So, what kinds of things do you do to stay sober?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t a rude question.

  “I still go to a meeting every week and I still try to apply my recovery program to my life on a regular basis to keep it in place. Having support has helped, too, of course. Slade stopped keeping any alcohol at his place when he asked me to come help him here and he’s always come to help me when I needed it. My sister has, too.” His glance flitted to me again.

  “You said she lives in Salem, right?”

  He nodded. “Works with the Magisterium. It’s been a while since she’s visited, actually.” We fell into a comfortable silence and watched the snow for a minute.

  “Do you want to go somewhere warmer? We could talk some more,” I offered.

  “I would like that. Any particular place?”

  “I actually do have an idea. Keys.” I slid from the car and held out my hand expectantly. A coquettish grin lightened his features. He surrendered his keys without inquiry.

  ***

  My dad had this tradition. Whenever he had a particularly bad day, he would bring mom and me to this funky smoothie place near the station where he worked. Not many people knew about it back then, but it's gotten pretty popular since. Every week, they have a different 'special' that they specifically designed to be disgusting. It even says "WARNING! Disgusting flavor" written below it on the specials board to prevent people from demanding their money back. Dad would always get it and would guffaw about how gross it was the entire time we ate. Somehow, it made him feel better. Raiden's reaction was also priceless.

  "Ugh!" He grimaced as he slurped another mouthful of his avocado and cyan pepper smoothie down his gullet. "It keeps getting worse. How is that possible?" I cackled and sipped from my own and Raiden's green eyes narrowed. "Really? Not even a wince?"

  I puffed up my chest victoriously. "I've developed a pallet for it.” I dropped my voice lower and avoided his glance. “Plus, mine is actually kiwi and banana..."

  Raiden pinched my side in revenge. I squirmed out of reach in a fit of giggles. We crossed the intersection outside the shop over to the shopping center.

  "Though I admit, getting smoothies in this weather was a pretty terrible idea." I shivered beneath my coat and shriveled myself like a raisin to get warmer.

  Raiden smirked. "Let's get inside, then." He made a beeline for a Barnes&Noble store in the middle of the shopping center. I tried not to hop with enthusiasm.

  "I don't think we can bring food in," I whispered when he held the door open for me.

  "What's the worst they could do? Make us throw them away?" He sassed. I snickered. We snuck our smoothies in like little rebels.

  "Were you really a paramedic?" I asked as I meandered slowly down an aisle of travel books and peeked around a corner to make sure no one would see me sip my smoothie.

  Raiden chuckled behind me. “For a while. Where did that come from?”

  “When Hemway was stitching me up, I started thinking about the first time he treated me. That was his excuse to bring you in to help him. But it now occurs to me that he actually wanted you to heal me, didn’t he?”

  Raiden rubbed the back of his head. “It was my idea, actually. I didn’t know if he would be able to fix your arm completely, so I thought that I could sneak in a little magic if he couldn’t. I called him before we went to Renenet’s.”

  “Really?” I slowed down to let him fit beside me in the narrow space.

  “Well, yeah. I didn’t want you to lose mobility in your arm.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Really, it was nothing. I didn’t even need to do anything, remember?” He didn’t look at me so I touched his arm. He stopped. His green eyes made me nervous.

  “I mean it. Thank you,” I said.

  “Anytime,” he said quietly. I wove my arm with his and suddenly had a moment of doubt; Would he pull away? Was I misreading things? But he didn’t. Just smiled and walked closer at my side and took a swig of the repulsive smoothie I’d bought him. Even tried to keep a straight face this time. I laughed.

  ***

  It didn’t take as long as normal for Peter’s case to get to trial, not even two weeks. Gabriel’s body was luckily found in time. He’d been registered as a John Doe after having been hit by a semi. The supernatural court was a lot like regular court. Except not one human was even allowed in the section of the courthouse the trial was going to take place. Well, except Nikki since she was a character witness for Peter and already privy to the supernatural world. Morrison had put her on some kind of list at the S.A.U. that permitted her into the trial. Not that it would matter once Marcus told her she was a sorceress.

  I clenched and unclenched my fingers anxiously as Nikki, Slade, Lorraine, and I waited in the security line. “What if I say the wrong thing?” I fretted.

  “Don’t think about it like that,” Slade encouraged over his shoulder. “You know your friend. Just let the jury know him, too.

  “You’re right,” I said with a nod. I was being silly. Peter was a great guy and the jury just needed to see that. Slade was ushered up through the security scanner. I glanced pensively at Nikki, chewing on my cheek. She caught me looking, of course.

  “What?” She asked with a chuckle.

  I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. It was Lorraine’s turn to go through the scanner. “Um, have you talked to a certain paternal figure recently?”

  “You want to talk about that now? No, I haven’t talked to him.”

  The security guard ushered her forward. I scowled in frustration. Of course he hadn’t called her. My fists clenched of their own accord and I tried to take a deep breath. I was ushered to the scanner next. My nervous system sparked with frazzled surprise when it actually went off. Did I start to turn metal every time I got worked up?

  “Over here.” The security officer led me aside to scan me and his scanning wand beeped on my forearm. Slade, Nikki, and Lorraine looked on from a ways away with confused expressions. “Have you had any surgery that required screws?”

  “No.” This was so not the time for my Splinter Skill to flare up.

  He scanned my arm again. Beep, beep, beep. His stern brown eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you?” At least he kept his voice down.

  “A dhampir.”

  “What can you do?”

  He would not like my answer. “Turn into metal. I can’t control it yet,” I explained.

  His scowl deepened.

  “You know you can’t keep her out of court for this,” Slade warned a few feet away.

  The guard glared over at him and then back at me. “If so much as a finger turns to metal, you will be escorted out. Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  He finally let me pass and I rejoined my group. We found the courtroom we needed and the Bailiff opened the door for us after checking our special passes. It looked like a regular courtroom. Lots of wood, uncomfortable pews, a daunting judge’s bench elevated above everything else. A large screen was set up to the left of t
he Judge’s seat so that both he and the jury could see the evidence that would be displayed. The only unusual thing were huge pillar-like clear quartz points standing in each of the four corners.

  "They keep anyone from cheating in trials. Any magic used in the room gets absorbed and nullified by them," Slade explained, followng my glance.

  I nodded, impressed. "They should have those in a lot of places."

  "They're really expensive. Hard to enchant."

  "Oh."

  More people than I expected were sitting in the pews. They couldn’t all be witnesses, of course. A lack of witnesses was the problem. The rest must have heard about the case and, what, wanted to watch the show? I even spotted Agents Morrison and Stokes sitting together in one of the pews at the back, though their tense body language and distance told me they didn’t particularly like each other.

  Peter and Wyatt were at the defense table on the right, closest to the jury. Was it to let them have a better look at him while they judged his fate? I prayed that they would be able to see all the goodness in him. Raiden was in the pew behind Wyatt and they talked quietly amongst themselves, probably about strategy. Nahamina was talking with Peter, though they weren’t allowed to touch unless he was found innocent.

  We all squeezed into the pew and Slade sat behind us. He likely wouldn’t be testifying since he couldn’t say anything Raiden couldn’t. A few rows behind us, I found Elias. His arms were tightly crossed and he was staring down at the floor. Peter noticed us and we all smiled encouragingly. He smiled back, but fear was palpable in his big brown eyes.

  “How are you?” Nikki asked.

  He pushed his fingers through his wavy dark hair. “A nervous wreck.”

  “It’s okay. We’ll all fight with you,” I insisted. His smile touched his eyes this time.

  “I know. Thank you.”

  Mom arrived soon and sat with Slade, here to offer moral support. As the widow of a deceased dhampir cop, she was also on a “list”. The jury was escorted in a few minutes later and the judge came in through a side door. Her sepia face was stern and her eyes seemed to analyze everyone in the room for any injustice. Everyone stood while she made her way to her stand. She was introduced as Judge Knox. After the initial swearing-in process of the jury and lawyers, Cassandra and Wyatt both gave their opening arguments to the jury; Cassandra’s that Peter had helped Gabriel kill the girl and then killed his own father to cover it up and Wyatt’s that Peter was another of Gabriel’s attempted victims.