A Shade of Vampire 65: A Plague of Deceit

by Bella Forrest

  “Then again, my heart isn’t with them,” he added, trying to fix things with the young fae.

  I checked our surroundings again, on pure instinct, making sure that we weren’t followed. Shadows moved through the woods, too far to be any cause for concern—but their presence confirmed what I’d already sensed and what Amane had already established. This was a good place for Faulties to settle, and some had done exactly that.

  In my survey, I noticed Douma watching me, quiet as she kept up with me. There was something in her blue eyes, perhaps the moon’s reflection, that made them sparkle more beautifully than ever, because I found myself out of breath, and unable to look away from her. I wasn’t sure when or how we’d gotten to this point, but I was falling for Douma all over again.

  I’d been entranced by the old version of her, the fighter, even though she was blindly devoted to Ta’Zan. This new Douma was sweet and innocent and righteous, not that different from the one I’d met. My heart was savage, pounding in my chest, and my blood rushed when her lips stretched into a soft smile. I was already coming undone, and she hadn’t even touched me yet. What was going to happen then? Would I just fall apart like a pile of bricks?

  “Where is your heart, then?” Vesta asked Zeriel, pulling me back into reality.

  The Tritone king smiled but said nothing. Instead, he let a heavy sigh roll from his chest.

  “Not far from here,” I said.

  Zeriel looked over his shoulder and saw me smirking. He rolled his eyes in return, then shifted his focus back to the sandy path ahead. “How much farther until we find some Faulties to sway? I’m getting hungry,” he muttered.

  Amane suddenly stopped, her arm shooting out to prevent Ridan and Vesta from going any farther as she looked down. We quickly reached her, then followed her gaze. Beneath a shallow layer of sand was a trap made of wood, with small spikes on the inner edges. Once snapped, those spikes would pierce through the flesh and cripple large prey. It could easily do damage to any of us, but Amane’s experience in the Stravian wilderness had come through for us.

  “Faulties are nearby,” she whispered.

  My nostrils flared as I sniffed the salty air. She was right. I smelled four, less than fifty feet away. With the ocean to our left, they had to be on the edge of the jungle. I walked across the beach, headed toward the trees. The others followed, and we all switched our weapons on, setting them on bullets, rather than pulverizer pellets.

  We passed the first line of trees, and several figures became visible in the pitch blackness of night. The moon couldn’t even breach the overhead crowns, so we only had our supernatural eyesight to help us. It wasn’t as clear as Elonora’s, for example, but it did a good enough job for us to understand what was going on over there.

  Four Faulties were pinned against the tree, shaking like leaves and begging their attackers to leave them be. The hostiles were mere shadows, moving unnaturally fast—Perfects.

  “Two of them,” Ridan muttered, as we hid behind a thick tree.

  “Easy breezy,” Zeriel whispered.

  “Hold on,” Ben said. “Let’s think this through.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Look at them,” Ben replied, pointing at the vulnerable Faulties.

  Two had already dropped to their knees, while the others still tried to hit back. The Perfects came at them in brief sessions, punching and kicking until they drew blood from the creatures, after which they pulled back and dashed around them, teasing the Faulties and making them cry. They were simply vicious, the complete opposite of those glorious creatures that Ta’Zan had described as Perfects.

  “Please, stop,” one of the Faulties cried out. “We didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “We were just resting. We’ve been searching for food for days!” the other managed, tears rolling down his bloodied cheeks. “We just—”

  One of the Perfects delivered a devastating left hook. The Faulty collapsed on one side, moaning from what had to be unbearable pain. I’d felt plenty of that at the hands of Perfects. My blood was boiling. I would’ve loved nothing more than to rip them both to shreds. But I wasn’t a full wolf… and there wasn’t enough time for me to bring the beast out for proper carnage.

  “I see what you mean,” Amane said, then went ahead, pointing her weapon at the Perfects.

  “Wait, what are you—ugh,” Ridan mumbled, having no choice but to follow her.

  Soon enough, we were all within feet of the wounded Faulties. The Perfects stopped their taunting for a moment, coming back to the tree to get a better look at us. Two males with platinum hair and vicious sneers, blood dripping from their knuckles.

  “You can’t possibly be this stupid,” one of the Perfects said, extending his claws.

  “Father will be thrilled to see you,” the other added, pointing a finger at Amane. “Traitor!”

  The Faulties were stunned by our presence but didn’t move or say anything. There had to be something about us—perhaps the overwhelming self-confidence that the pulverizer weapons gave us. I couldn’t help but flash them a grin.

  “If you think we’re stupid, wait until we’re done with you,” I said.

  “By all means, show me what you’ve got, you feisty little mutt!” the first Perfect retorted. “I’ve heard the rumors about you! A half-wolf that’ll look good as my belt, once I’m done with you!”

  I took a deep breath, then gave Ben a brief glance. “Please, Uncle, can I? Please? Pretty please?” I asked, my tone nasal as I imitated a whiny little boy asking for ice cream or a chance to ride the most dangerous rollercoaster in the amusement park.

  Ben shrugged in return. “Meh, knock yourself out.”

  I pointed my gun at the first Perfect, who took his first menacing step toward me. I quickly changed the weapon setting and released a single pulverizer pellet. It smacked him in the head, confusing him for a moment, until the blue dust touched his skin.

  In an instant, he turned to ashes, crumbling on the hard ground before his utterly terrified friend. The Faulties stilled, all four gawking at what was left of the Perfect. Their jaws dropped, and they all broke into a sweat—my nose was sharp enough to pick up on their reaction.

  “What… What did you just do?!” the second Perfect cried out, his bulging eyes glazed with tears. Stricken with grief and rage, a combination that could only result in reckless and suicidal action, he lunged at me.

  Douma shot out and fought him. She moved fast, blocking his attacks and driving her claws through his stomach, repeatedly, until he dropped to his knees. Despite the absence of Ta’Zan’s military training, Douma still had the instincts and reflexes of a fighter… an apex predator.

  And she was clearly better than this guy.

  He didn’t stand a chance, and she took out a long knife from her belt and cut his head off.

  A few moments passed in uncomfortable silence as the Faulties kept staring at us—specifically, at my weapon. Douma, on the other hand, seemed unable to move, constantly looking at her crimson blade. This was her first kill, as the new Douma. She’d taken another life, and, judging by her expression, she didn’t like it one bit.

  In fact, as she raised her head to look at me, my heart broke as hard and as painfully as hers did, when she finally realized what she’d done.

  “I killed him…” she murmured.

  “He’ll come back,” I replied, trying to comfort her. I put my weapon away and went over to her. She shuddered when I touched her hand, then gasped when I took the knife. She was going to get it back, once she got over the shock of what she’d just done.

  “Does it matter?” she asked, her lower lip trembling. “Perfects can’t die, sure. Not like this, but everyone else can. Do my brothers and sisters not feel the same as I do, when they take a life?”

  “How does it feel, Douma?” Ben asked.

  “Like a piece of me just died,” Douma replied. “It’s horrible. How can Ta’Zan encourage this? How can any of us be okay with such actions? How
is this right?”

  I sighed, then gave her a weak smile. “It’s not right. It’s what we’re trying to stop.”

  “I know,” she mumbled. “I… I just wish this could all stop.”

  “Why did you kill him?” I asked, genuinely curious. She’d stayed by my side before, quietly observing, perhaps unwilling to get involved in all the violence.

  “I didn’t want you to waste another pulverizer pellet. And I… I didn’t want him to hurt you,” she said. “I don’t know what I was thinking, exactly, but I just… I just feel better when you’re okay. I guess.”

  I didn’t get a chance to properly digest what she’d just said. The Faulties were back on their feet and once again huddled together, clearly afraid of us.

  “What the hell was that?!” one of them cried out. “You… You turned him to dust!” he added, pointing at the ground, where the first Perfect’s ashes had settled.

  “It’s ashes, actually,” Amane replied.

  The first Faulty gawked at her for a while, his face lighting up with the glimmer of recognition. “I know you. You’re Amane!” he said, then looked at Douma. “And you… You’re a Perfect, one of the first! What are you two doing with the outsiders?”

  “Wait. Are these… Are these Draenir?!” another Faulty asked, pointing a finger at the four Draenir that had accompanied us on this mission. Because they weren’t as strong or as fast as us, we’d instructed them to hold back and only intervene if absolutely necessary. Other than that, they were the ideal tokens of peace for the rogue Faulties. With them, Amane, and Douma by our side, we had a better chance at rallying the rogues against Ta’Zan.

  On our own, we were nothing.

  “Yeah, so… we need to talk,” I said matter-of-factly, offering a friendly smile.

  The Faulties blinked several times, clearly struggling to wrap their heads around what they were witnessing. Multiple species had come together, going against everything that Ta’Zan had relentlessly drilled into their heads. It threw them for a loop.

  And it was about damn time.

  For too long Ta’Zan had been allowed to lie to his creatures, to hurt innocents and to play with their lives. He’d clearly become ill with a god complex, and that never boded well for anyone. Looking back, I could see the same spark in all the monsters that GASP had dealt with. Azazel had been just as toxic to Eritopia, thinking of himself as the supreme being, rather than the frustrated and miserable Druid that he really was. The same could be said of Shaytan, drunk with power and addicted to living souls as he plunged Neraka into darkness and pain.

  Ta’Zan was pretty much cut from the same cloth. His tools and his knowledge were infinitely greater, but, at the very bottom of his being, he was the same: a tormented soul that sought to make others feel the misery that had turned him into this monster. He had such potential. But he’d done more harm than good with it.

  What point was there in giving life, when one’s creations were treated with such disdain and cruelty? Looking at the rogue Faulties, I once again understood what was at stake in this fight. It wasn’t just about my freedom, or that of my grandparents, our GASP founders, my brother, or our closest friends and allies.

  No, it was about giving everyone an equal shot at the pursuit of happiness.

  At freedom. At love.

  Ridan

  The four Faulties were afraid of us.

  I found the change in their behavior interesting, to say the least. It wasn’t so long ago that we were running from them and the Perfects, both species looking to capture us and take us back to Ta’Zan. But now that we had these pulverizer weapons, they weren’t in such a rush to attack. Then again, we did have a fearsome Perfect with us—they didn’t know what a gentle creature Douma was without her memories.

  They only knew her as one of Ta’Zan’s greatest warriors, one of the first Perfects to emerge from his laboratories.

  “We’re not here to hurt you,” Amane said to the Faulties, while Dmitri and Zeriel set the remaining, albeit dead Perfect on fire. They used some of Rakkhan’s burning oil to accelerate the flames—one of many useful substances found in the Merinos stronghold. “We’re here to talk.”

  “Talk about what?!” one Faulty replied. “You turned that guy into ashes! Ashes!”

  “Surely, you’ve realized by now that Ta’Zan won’t take you back,” I said. “You’re lost out here, struggling to survive in the wilderness, while the Perfects pick you off, one by one.”

  “Ta’Zan may have demanded that you all be left alone, as his creations, but nothing stops the Perfects from killing you and blaming nature’s harshness for your deaths,” Ben added. “Meanwhile, the Perfects are expanding their society, and they’re getting ready to go out into the universe and destroy billions of lives, under his guidance. Do you think that’s okay?”

  “Who cares what they do, huh? We have no choice but to make do with what we’ve got here,” another Faulty replied, his brow furrowed.

  All four Faulties had large feline genes in them—much like the ones we’d seen on the beaches and swimming around, their fur was turquoise. It covered their heads, shoulders, and arms, as well as their legs. With their black claws and big, bluish cat eyes, they reminded me of the Bajangs from Calliope. Only, unlike that Eritopian species, these Faulties were forever trapped between forms, both humanoid and feline at the same time.

  “It’s only a matter of time before Ta’Zan sets his sights on you and orders your extermination,” Ben replied.

  Amane nodded in agreement. “Even before he had you ejected, Ta’Zan specifically said it would be your only taste of freedom. He never wanted us to live for too long. We’re merely early stages of his great experiment. We’re the first, failed attempts before his Perfects. Our existence would sully his masterpiece. I swear, on my sister’s life, that those were his exact words. For a long time, he contemplated an existence of servitude for the Faulties, but it was never going to get any better for us. It was either obey or die.”

  “What are you trying to say?” the first Faulty murmured, narrowing his eyes at her.

  “She’s saying that your creator never wanted you,” I replied. “You’re nothing but experiments. He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t miss you. No matter what he says, he will never see you as more than what you are, in his eyes. Beta versions. Nobodies. Stepping stones.”

  “First drafts,” Dmitri sighed, shaking his head in disgust.

  “Point is, you have a choice now,” I continued. “You either stay here and wait for the end to come while you struggle to survive, or—”

  “Or what, conspire with you against our maker?” a third Faulty snapped.

  “Your maker is already conspiring against you, and against our worlds, too,” Dmitri said, crossing his arms.

  Ben stepped forward, motioning for us to put our weapons away. I didn’t need mine for the Faulties. I’d fought their kind and the Perfects enough times to learn how they moved. They were all ridiculously fast and strong, but they still had weak points, and I’d figured out how to hit where it hurt.

  “I think we got off on the wrong foot, here,” Ben said. “Just listen to what we have to say, and then you can do whatever you want. I’m Ben. What are your names?”

  The first Faulty exhaled deeply, his shoulders dropping as he seemed to gradually relax in our presence. The others mimicked his body language, without even realizing it. In my book, that made him the leader of the pack.

  “I’m Omid,” he said, then pointed at his companions, another male and two females. “These are Marlow, Henna, and Melba.”

  “Okay. It’s nice to meet you,” Ben replied, smiling. “Look, do you know why we’re out here, talking to you, and not flying back to our planets? Because we could totally do it. It would be risky, with how quickly the Perfects’ numbers are growing, but certainly not impossible. Yet, we’re still around.”

  “Your people are Ta’Zan’s prisoners,” Melba said with a smirk. “And you’re foolish enough to think you can get
them out.”

  “No. We’re here because we want to save you and the Perfects, not just ourselves, our people, and our worlds,” Ben said. “We’re here because Ta’Zan’s tricks and lies have done enough damage already. Because, if you strip him of his tools and the loyalty of his Perfects, he’s nothing but a well-spoken, brilliant con man. He’s nothing, and you can’t possibly let him have everything.”

  “Especially not after how he’s treated you,” I added. “He’s kept you in the dark. He’s fed you all sorts of lies. He’s turned you against anyone who disagrees with him. And he’s been allowed to amass enough power to destroy an entire universe. This has to stop. He can still be stopped.”

  Omid chuckled, bitterness oozing from his tone. “And how do you intend to do that? You’ve seen what the Perfects can do, right?”

  “Were you not here five minutes ago?!” Dmitri retorted.

  “We’re getting better at fighting the Perfects off,” I said, “but it’s not our key focus. We’ve got enough firepower to send a message to Ta’Zan, and to make the Perfects understand that they’re not all-powerful, nor are they invincible.”

  A few seconds passed in silence. We could hear the ocean waters rushing against the shore not far behind us.

  “What’s your plan?” Omid asked.

  “There are many like you out here,” Ben replied. “Many who know about Ta’Zan’s inner workings, about the Perfects, and about what life was like before the plague—”

  “Which, by the way, you should know… Ta’Zan caused. Ta’Zan created the virus and released it on the Draenir,” I said.

  The four Faulties stilled, blinking rapidly for a while as they processed the information. Instinctively, they all looked at Amane, who nodded as a confirmation. “I was there. My sister and I helped him create it.” She sighed. “And it’s not even the worst of what we’ve had to do for him.”