Ta’Zan listened carefully to their complaints. Marael, however, wasn’t ready to shut up.
“You’re just servants! You’re nothing!” he shouted, then instantly swallowed his own voice when Ta’Zan raised his arm to silence him.
This was an interesting exchange to watch. Most importantly, I noticed the Faulties stealing glances at me. The glimmer in their eyes spoke of hope and anger, and I began to think that everything we’d been telling Isda and Monos was finally making its way to the others. The Faulties no longer struck me as the meek and obedient hybrids, but rather individuals who were getting tired of being treated like mindless tools.
“Tural, Khalin,” Ta’Zan said, addressing the two Faulties, “I understand your frustration. It’s natural to feel this way when someone treats you like this. Violence is never an option, when civil discourse can still be used.”
Ta’Zan spoke, but he didn’t seem to say much. My blood was boiling, understanding exactly how he was manipulating the Faulties. They needed his affection and kindness, but they didn’t really look beyond that. This meant that Ta’Zan could get away with meaningless words, as long as he offered them in a soft voice and with a friendly smile.
It seemed to be enough for them.
“Father, we just want equal rights. We deserve them. We’ve been with you from the very beginning. We helped you build all this,” Tural said. “We will forever stand with you, but you cannot disregard us. You cannot let your Perfects treat us like this. A time will come when we will all grow tired.”
“My son, that won’t be the case, rest assured,” Ta’Zan replied. “No Faulty will ever rise against the father. I’m not a purveyor of violence. You know that already.”
I stifled a chortle, drawing Ta’Zan’s glare and the attention of both Faulties. Marael crossed his arms, towering over Tural and Khalin as he glowered at me.
Ta’Zan decided to ignore me and moved his attention to Marael. “You shouldn’t treat the servants like this, my son,” he said. Both Faulties were shocked and dismayed by his choice of words, but the thing about Ta’Zan was that he had a way of making a point without the person even realizing it until it was too late. He didn’t directly tell the Faulties that they weren’t servants—he was vague intentionally, in order to simply soothe them.
This time, however, I had a feeling that his tactics were no longer effective. The Faulties’ expressions spoke volumes. Ta’Zan, however, was undisturbed as he placed a hand on Marael’s shoulder.
“The Faulties are your brothers and sisters,” he continued. “They’re here to make life better. Easier, even. You should show them a little gratitude, Marael. There aren’t many of them, and I have no intention of making more hideous hybrids to cater to your whims. This is a purely temporary arrangement, because you and your Perfect siblings will be responsible for your own dealings, going forward. The Faulties cannot possibly serve millions of you, my son. So, please, be a little more careful in how you conduct yourself with your lesser brothers and sisters, unless you wish to anger me. You know I don’t respond well to disobedience.”
Marael instantly relaxed. It sounded like Ta’Zan-talk for “don’t worry about these cattle, just be nicer to them,” and it made me extremely angry. I still couldn’t react, though. I could already feel my collar warming up—a precursor to electric shock—as I began to harbor violent intentions toward Ta’Zan. I took several deep breaths, choosing to focus on the two Faulties. They were both dismayed by what was going on but couldn’t say much.
“Yes, Father,” Marael replied with a lazy smirk. “I’ll be nicer to the help.”
Oh, if only I didn’t have the collar on.
Ta’Zan kept a tight, albeit elegant, noose on his people. His prisoners wore shock collars. His Faulties feared him because they could be killed, according to Isda and Monos, though most were horrified at just the prospect of abandonment, of living in the jungles. The Perfects were also afraid of him, though we didn’t know why, exactly. They were technically invincible and seemingly impossible to kill.
We were positive that Ta’Zan had some sort of leverage over them, some weapon he could use against them in order to keep them in check. Otherwise, they would’ve already overthrown him. The Perfects were infinitely more powerful than their creator, and they also outnumbered him and the Faulties. From a strategic point of view, it seemed logical to assume that Ta’Zan could be cast aside if his policies didn’t suit the Perfects. After all, no matter how indoctrinated, such creatures could still wonder and even question an order.
But, judging by what I was seeing now, none could object.
Tural and Khalin lowered their heads and moved back, allowing Marael to bow before Ta’Zan and leave. I then followed Ta’Zan down the hallway, frequently looking back to check on the Faulties. They were both angry and visibly displeased.
I didn’t want to fool myself into some hopeful delusion, but I could still almost feel the vibrations of a Faulty revolution brewing. We’d planted the thoughts already, and they were clearly manifesting into words and actions—displays of peaceful protest and objections like Tural and Khalin’s.
I was tempted to hope that we could sway them toward us, eventually.
Elonora
I had a hard time looking away from Raphael. He looked as though he’d just stepped off the cover of a Surfers Weekly magazine—except he’d been designed as the perfect soldier, the ultimate killer, the supreme being.
Not that I knew Ta’Zan at all, or his way of thinking, but I could tell why he’d been so fond of Raphael, choosing him as his second-in-command. Unlike Araquiel, Douma, and the others, Raphael carried himself with a different demeanor. He didn’t need to stand tall and proud and bulked up in order for us to understand his kingly power. It was written all over his face and in his every move. Every inch of his tanned skin oozed of strength—the kind that could dry up oceans and move mountains.
For now, however, in our specific circumstances, we didn’t know whether we were saved or even more screwed. We had no idea what Raphael’s allegiance was, these days. From what we’d learned from Leah and Samael, up until several nights ago, probably around the time of our second clash with the Perfects, Raphael had been Ta’Zan’s favorite. A difference in universal and global policy opinions had led to their separation and Raphael’s abandonment.
“You’re asking me what I’m doing here?” Raphael asked, narrowing his eyes at Araquiel. “What the hell are you doing so far away from home, Little Brother?”
Araquiel sighed. “I’m not your little brother. We came out of the same batch.”
“Only, I came out first,” Raphael retorted with a sly grin.
“Now is not the time, Brothers,” Douma interjected politely, but the air was so thick between them that I could just about cut it with my sword. Nobody wanted Raphael here, and I knew this was our chance to get him on our side. Douma then looked at Raphael. “We’ve missed you, Raphael.”
Raphael didn’t seem touched by their presence. If anything, his aura had hues of bright red in it. I would’ve ventured to guess that he was irritated, and certainly not a fan of Araquiel, in particular. I decided to use that to our advantage. It was either that or capture—which, to all of us, was the equivalent of death or worse.
“We’ve been looking for you,” I said.
“All of you?” Raphael replied, raising an eyebrow at me. I had his full attention now, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. His aura was suddenly jumbled with a million colors. I had no idea what to make of it.
“Nah. Just me and my non-Perfect friends here,” I told him, then pointed a thumb at Douma, Oriphiel, Araquiel, and the other three Perfects standing. “They’re trying to put us in cages and essentially kill us.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic!” Araquiel snapped. “We don’t have cages. They’re comfortable glass units with beds and amenities.”
“Also, you wouldn’t be dying. You’d be guaranteed a life in our empire,” Douma added.
&n
bsp; “Ugh. Still with the sales crap,” I said, rolling my eyes with disgust. “Raphael, we do not wish to hurt anyone, I swear to you. Your people took our people and won’t let them go. We just want our friends and family back. That’s all.”
Raphael crossed his arms, carefully measuring me from head to toe. I suddenly felt like an amoeba under the microscope. There was something about him that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up like good little soldiers. And I meant that in kind of a good way.
“Your friends and family. You mean the outsiders whose genes created us,” Raphael replied.
I gave him a brief nod. “I’m not sure you’re aware, but what your father is doing is horribly wrong,” I said. “I just want a chance to explain everything to you. But I can’t do it if these jerks here grab us and stuff us in glass units with beds and amenities,” I added, adopting a high pitch to produce a girly and snappy version of Araquiel toward the end. “Please, Raphael. Just hear us out.”
“Enough with the nonsense. Raphael is no longer involved in our affairs. Surrender now, or I swear I will drag you back with every bone in your body broken. Father doesn’t need you fully functional to lift genetic materials off you!” Araquiel replied.
He moved to attack us, but Raphael’s hand shot up. Araquiel stopped, stunned.
“You’re on my turf, now, Brother,” Raphael said. “I call the shots here.”
“Don’t be foolish. This doesn’t concern you,” Douma replied, raising her voice.
Raphael chuckled. “What part of ‘my turf’ didn’t you understand, Sister? I swear, I remember you being smarter than this. Or did you spend so much time in Araquiel’s company that he dumbed you down?”
I took a step forward, aware that Rose, Kailani, and everyone else in our group were watching me and the Perfects, in case the fight broke out again.
“I am telling the truth,” I said to Raphael. “We didn’t know there was anyone left on the planet when we built our resort on Noagh. We didn’t even claim Strava as our own. We just thought it would be a beautiful place for our friends, our family, our founders to just relax for a while. They accidentally interrupted Ta’Zan’s sleep chamber systems, and, in return, he kidnapped them and used their genes to build this so-called Perfect army.”
“He wants to take you all out into the universe and destroy any civilization that opposes his dominion,” Rose continued. “It’s unnatural and evil, and we’d be more than happy to explain why, but—”
“I don’t need you to explain why,” Raphael replied. “And I need you outsiders to shut up for a moment. I’ve clearly got some unresolved issues with my brothers and sisters here that require my immediate attention,” he added, then turned to face Douma and Araquiel, resting his hands on his hips in a casual pose. “So, what’s your deal, exactly?”
Araquiel snorted. “Our deal? What the hell is your deal, Brother? You left us for… this?” he asked, gesturing at the beach.
We didn’t even know we’d stumbled upon Raphael’s camping site, but I had to give silent thanks to the universe for bringing us here. Another minute with Douma, and our chances of getting out of here freely would’ve dropped dramatically to zero. We were down to plan C already, and it was the suckiest of the three options we’d come up with.
“Hey, I’ve found peace and quiet here,” Raphael retorted. “The sun, the ocean, the soft sands. The jungle is mine to hunt and harvest from. There are no curious Faulties in these parts. No father to tell me that I’m supposed to do this, this, and that. I’m happy here. So, yes. I left you for this, and I have zero regrets.”
“You’ve fallen from grace, Brother,” Douma chimed in. “We used to look up to you.”
“Listen, Sister!” Raphael said. “You can go ahead and be Daddy’s little soldier girl all you want. Same goes for you, Araquiel. Hell, you can all blindly follow him into a blasting volcano, for all I care. Just don’t expect me to show any concern whatsoever. I gave you a choice, and you made it clear that you are utterly unable to think for yourselves. Just don’t expect me to do the same.”
I chuckled softly. “Hold up. You went off script, and it pissed Ta’Zan off?”
Raphael shrugged, then cocked his head to the side as he looked at me. “You’re not afraid of me,” he observed. I shook my head. “Why not? Haven’t you heard the stories about me? I mean, it’s got to be why you came looking for me, right? This is quite far from where your people are. I doubt you were just… walking around.”
“Once I’ve seen one Perfect, I’ve seen them all,” I said. “And yes, we came looking for you.”
Raphael nodded slowly, then looked at Douma and Araquiel once more. “And you have been hunting them ever since?” he asked, slightly amused. His eyes nearly popped out when he spotted Abaddon’s severed head in the sand. “Oh, man, you brought the psycho hound with you, too? How low will you go?”
“You have no idea what we’ve been through!” Araquiel snarled. “You left us! You’re in no position to judge us!”
Araquiel was beginning to lose his temper, and, from what I’d seen before, it didn’t occur that often. The hot-headedness was usually reserved for the likes of Abaddon. But I needed to get this damn standoff over with. Nevis was injured, and he needed my blood—not to mention Hunter, Zeriel, and everyone else who’d gotten hurt by the Perfects.
“Actually, we’ve had Douma hostage until now,” Dmitri interjected. “She helped us kill Abaddon twice now, only this time she decided to stay loyal to her brethren and jumped on the capture-the-outsiders train.”
Raphael burst into laughter, prompting Douma’s face to burst out red, up to the tips of her ears. “Are you serious? You get captured by outsiders, yet you have the audacity to claim a high ground before me? Hah!”
“At least I’m trying to do something here!” Douma replied.
“What’s that, exactly? Blindly obey Daddy? Do what you’re told without wondering whether what you’re doing is right or wrong to begin with?” Raphael asked, rather rhetorically. “I chose to walk away and not care. It’s made my life a million times easier. I don’t give a damn about what you do with these outsiders, you know,” he added, pretty much bumming me out. “But don’t come here all high and mighty to—what, exactly? Reprimand me? Show me how well you’re doing? What’s your point, Douma?”
“I’m loyal to Father! To our people!” Douma shouted.
Raphael shook his head. “Douma, you’re just too gullible. Such a waste of a perfectly good brain.”
“I’ll take the waste of brain over being a coward anytime,” Araquiel replied.
The entire planet seemed to come to a screeching halt. Silence fell heavily over that strip of beach. I could’ve sworn that even the ocean had stopped lapping at the sandy shore. The winds stopped blowing. The animals were eerily quiet all of a sudden. The sudden shift in electricity was beyond obvious.
There was definitely something about Raphael that commanded our full attention, even more so when he was angry—and Araquiel had really pissed him off, this time. From what I could tell, calling Raphael a coward was a surefire way to get oneself shredded.
Raphael didn’t say anything for a while, but the wrath in his eyes spoke volumes. He slowly moved his head to look at Araquiel once more, the corner of his mouth nervously twitching.
“Did you just call me a coward, Araquiel?” he asked, his voice chillingly low.
It had an immediate effect on Araquiel, who instinctively took a step back. “I did. I simply told the truth, Brother.”
“Then, I guess it’s time I introduce you to a truth I’d been hoping I wouldn’t have to show you. But you leave me no choice,” Raphael breathed.
He vanished from sight. Within a split second, he was right in front of Araquiel. His hand shot out and gripped Araquiel by the throat. Raphael’s buttons had finally been pushed beyond their normal limits.
Rose
I’d thought the likes of Douma and Araquiel were the fastest I’d ever seen, but Raphael w
as something else entirely. I had to admit, right then and there, that he was definitely the one who could take us all down in the blink of an eye.
We’d gotten somewhat accustomed to the Perfects’ speed, moves, and tactics. Our soul-eater blades had slowed them down a little, even though the difference was a mere millisecond here and there. But we’d fought them for long enough to know where we all stood. We were completely inferior where capabilities were concerned, but we still had a few aces up our sleeves where strategy was concerned.
This time, however, I couldn’t stop myself from breathing a sigh of relief. I was downright thankful that Raphael had no interest in taking us to Ta’Zan. But I wasn’t sure he was on our side. Based on his demeanor, I was inclined to think he desired neutrality, but that was impossible in these circumstances. We were going to have to try to change his mind. But first, we had to defeat the remaining Perfects.
Looking at how Raphael delivered devastating blows to Araquiel’s torso, however, I figured the fight was going to end soon. Douma was perplexed, and Oriphiel was livid. The other three were practically quaking in their silken tunics.
Araquiel didn’t even get a chance to breathe or plead for mercy. Raphael pummeled him into oblivion, ramming his fists into his brother’s ribcage with no sense of mercy or pause. Araquiel managed to kick him in the groin, hard enough to make Raphael double over.
It gave Araquiel the second he needed to dash back and put some distance between them.
Raphael’s laughter was strained. “Tell you what, outsiders. I’ll listen to what you have to say, mainly because these arrogant fools managed to get on my nerves. So, what do you say we rip some Perfect heads off first, then go somewhere nice and quiet to chill. Huh?”
“Sounds all right to me,” Elonora said, then gave me a soft nudge and nodded in Douma’s direction. “What do you say, Rosie? Shall we take her out?”
A Shade of Vampire 64: A Camp of Savages Page 9
