by Jade Alters
Like little misfired piccolo notes, they cut through whatever she’s using to muffle them, into the air. River. The poor girl. I’d never let her see me pity her, but I can’t help but feel for her when she wakes up from nightmares crying like this. It happens several times a month. But it’s usually louder than this. She must really be jamming her face in a pillow or something. I roll over on my back to peek at her from the corner of my eyes. To my shock, the bed across the room from me is motionless. River lays on her back, facing me, fast asleep. If it’s not her, then…
I sit halfway up to glide my eyes across the room without being too obvious. There’s no bed in the room for our third roommate, same as always, so I figure it might take a while to pinpoint her. There’s no trace of her Astral blue glow anywhere in the main room, so I perch silently on the side of my bed and slide off. I roll my feet across our thick carpet around the corner to the little bathroom hall. Sure enough, the sobbing gets louder. I track the sound to the hung-open door. I linger there, knuckles laid gently on the wood. I lower my ear to the opening to get an idea of what the best thing I can do for her is; knock, or go back to bed without a word. But Stephanie doesn’t make a sound, besides the sobs. She doesn’t say a thing.
“Oh, sorry,” Stephanie says as the door swings in, as casually as she might to a stranger she nearly bumped on the street. I lunge back from the opening at her sudden appearance, as well as how different it is. She has a fully formed, shimmering human frame, unlike her usual half-body-half-wisp form. There’s even a little detail in her face. Her nose is so defined, and a pair of colorless eyes have appeared above her trembling blue lips. Two neon streaks draw themselves down her round, age-lined cheeks. Are those…tears? “Sorry…did…did I wake you?” Stephanie tries to say. But each word seems directly tied to whatever it upsetting her, dragging it right back up her throat.
“No, no,” I assure her. I do my best to even out my shoulders and work the tension out of my stance. “I just got up to use the bathroom… What’s going on?”
“Me too. I just got up to go to the bathroom,” Stephanie sniffles, even as her voice threatens to implode in tears.
“Come on. Literally anything else would have been more believable,” I chuckle at her.
“You don’t know that! How do you know I don’t shit and piss like the rest of you?” Stephanie stomps her spectral foot. My eyes shoot down in shock when it actually makes a sound. The little thump sends ripples through the floorboards, into my own feet. I shake it off to rebut:
“Listen. I just found out that Demons don’t shit, and you don’t even have a body! So you’re full of it. But apparently you can touch stuff now…” I marvel. “What’s going on, Steph?”
“I’m just having a…a bit of a rough time,” Stephanie finally bends a little.
“I can see that,” I sigh. “I mean what’s giving you such a hard time?” Stephanie lifts a shimmering blue arm to swipe away the streaks of plasmatic tears from her cheeks.
“Just my classes,” she says.
“Bull-”
“No, actually,” Stephanie stops me before I can discredit her. “Do you…know what classes are like for an Astral like me? Just a spirit, without a body? Some people call us Remnants… Just leftovers from a completed life that should have ended.”
“Steph, did someone say that to you?” I frown. My knuckles crack almost automatically, in preparation for colliding with some asshat’s jawbone. Who would say something like that to such a kind soul, literally?
“No,” she shakes her Astral head. Long, misty strands of hair unfurl from the motion- more new detail. “No, it’s not that. It’s…most of my class time involves working my way backward through my life. My actual life, when I had a body, I mean. From end to beginning. That means…starting with…” Beads of plasma froth over her cheeks again. They draw bright silver lines down her face and trickle to the floor, where they fizzle away as blue smog.
“How you died?” I fill in the blanks for her. Stephanie nods once and plunks two little shimmering dots of ghostly tears on the ground by my shoes. “Do you…want to talk about it? You don’t have to, but maybe it would help?”
“I…I don’t…” Stephanie considers, head buried in the crook of her arm. She takes the time of a few long breaths to decide, then says, “I don’t remember much, at all. Just that I was in a car, and then…there was fire. I didn’t even have time to feel how hot it was before…and there was someone with me. Maybe two people? Damnit, I can’t remember! I can’t even remember…his face…”
“Alright, alright,” I sing in a low, soothing tone. “It’s alright now, Steph.” I put my hand on her glowing blue shoulder on instinct. I don’t remember in the heat of the moment, so late at night, that I’ll just pass right through. But I don’t. My eyes widen around my own hand, planted firmly on Stephanie’s cold shoulder. It’s like she’s really here. It’s like touching a cold breeze, rather than letting it pass over you. She looks up at me, just as surprised, before I throw my arms around her. I feel her hands on my back. I squeeze Stephanie for the first time, until her sobs die to silence in my shoulder. “It’s alright. You’ll figure it out. And once you do, you can heal,” I promise her. I hope it’s true.
I hold onto her until I can’t feel her anymore. My arms fall through the space where she was a second ago. Now only a few lingering plumes of blue mist twist around there. I look around for her, but Stephanie’s gone to her version of sleep. The Blue Plane. I look up, my best guess at a frame of reference for her spectral Realm. Wherever she ended up for now, I hope she’s alright.
Cece,
The Broken Academy, The Dragonlord’s Office
When Thise calls the next ASTF meeting, Bart is the only one who beats Stephanie, River and me there. He stands with his hands folded behind his back, mockingly formal as ever. Or maybe it’s not an act? It would be awfully hard to maintain it as constantly as he does. When he smiles at me, I actually find it in myself to smile back, now. For all my suspicion and distrust, he did fight right alongside me at the gates of the Kyrie Stronghold. After seeing firsthand how fast he is, I know he could have abandoned me in a blink. Yet he stayed to risk his standing with a dangerous group, so I’d be alright. I may not be entirely sure where his true loyalty lies in terms of the Academy-Kyrie conflict, but I know he has some for me.
We line up side by side while the others file in, only a minute behind. Serge and Bryant come in discussing something about a class they share. It becomes more a monologue for the oblivious Serge the second Bryant’s eyes meet mine. He gives me the goofiest rendition of a smile I’ve ever seen. I can’t help but bounce it back at him. I can’t believe this is the same guy that was inside me last night. The same guy I partnered with for a Mystical History project. Neither of us knows quite what to do with one another now, and even if we could talk, I don’t think we’d know what to say. I review a few of the rough drafts for my side of it in my head. So, I stole your Demonic virginity? What was it like having a penis for the first time? Sorry I didn’t stay the whole night, I wasn’t sure what kind of expectations you had about after-sex cuddling? Though there’s not an ounce of regret in my system about what I did with Bryant, I find myself suddenly grateful for the company in the room. Those are conversations I’m not sure I’m adequately prepared for. Lucky for me, Serge takes Bryant’s silence as respect for Thise, and quiets to wait for the meeting to begin right alongside him.
Lee comes in last, looking a little frazzled. His short-cut hair is a disaster of multi-directional tufts. His eyes bulge with the pressure of what looks to be about ten cups of coffee. We have a test coming up in Advanced Transformation, sure, but I’m also pretty sure it has more to do with who he caught me flying with. I haven’t had a chance to explain to him what I’m doing with the Kyrie yet, or why. There’s just too much happening, and Lee tends to get…involved. It’s not that I don’t want him involved, more that I’m worried what might happen to him. He doesn’t have the same protection
s I have, being the daughter of the Kyrie’s leader.
“I’ve called this meeting,” Dragonlord Thise puts an abrupt end to everyone’s wondering about anything with her announcement, “to share the details of a covert operation certain members of the ASTF have been undergoing. Cece and Bart have been to the Kyrie Stronghold and back.”
“What?” Serge blurts just faster than River and Stephanie can manage.
“We were posing as recruits to gain some understanding of what they’ve been up to all this time,” I report, never turning my head from Thise. I can’t bear to see that same wild-eyed concern infect Serge, too. But he impresses me with his calm. He works out the kinks in his stance in silence, until he’s perfectly upright again.
“What we’ve learned so far amounts to…little more than we already knew. The Kyrie fight for a loose alliance of shared information between self-governed racial communities, rather than a combined Council with decision power. But we have gained some insight into the individual goals of certain parties,” Thise explains. Here, she invites Bart to speak with an unfolding hand.
“The former VampKing, Lucidous, aims to create a place for Vampires to live and feed without persecution, whatever rules of morality need bending to do so. Exactly how he plans to do this, he hasn’t shared with anyone but the researchers helping him achieve it. But I doubt it’s a pleasant solution for humans,” Bart outlines.
Serge, Lee, Bryant, Stephanie and River listen to each word with wide eyes. Each of them envisions their own version of a worldwide vampiric feeding frenzy. But not me. After how cordial he was, and how controlled the Vampires were underground in the Stronghold, where they have such little incentive to be so… It has to be something more creative than a bloodbath and bendy-straws. I wander off so deep in thought of it that I hardly notice when Thise puts a hand out to invite me to give my report.
“I met with Dorian, the representative of Dragons in the Kyrie…and a man considered by many to be their leader. He showed me this…black glass cavern where Dragons are free to transform and fly up into the sky, covered by a massive illusory curtain. He told me that their stake in the Kyrie is locating the Dragons’ Realm of Power. He claims this is for self-defense from the Council, as well as finding the origin of Dragons. Many are curious to see if we are a human mutation, or a separate species from another Realm altogether like Demons or Fey.” Thise nods at the conclusion of the report I already gave her in private.
“And the reports from the Academy? Any developments?” she asks the rest of the ASTF. The others glance down our line of defense to shake their heads in response . None of them has a disturbance to report on, besides River. She twirls her fingers around the loops of her belt with hesitation to admit:
“The Thanksgiving Feast is coming up at the Ahwahneechee Tribe Longhouse.”
“I was wondering if you’d mention it,” Thise nods.
“You think the Kyrie would trash it?” Lee interjects. River shakes her head.
“No. But I think it would be a good place to scout loyalties. Every year, the Chief Shifter Family hosts other powerful families from the other two races of the Original Three,” she explains. It’s a solid idea, so why is she so nervous? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her fiddle with something the way she’s doing with her belt right now. “It’s a big gathering, so…I think at least one other person should come with me. Cece. If…if you want.” River’s eyes twitch over to me for about half a second, before her nerves get the better of her.
“It is a rather large gathering. This makes sense. It’s a fairly common tradition for longtime roommates to visit one another’s families on holidays,” Thise considers.
“And it’s not exactly like I’ll blend in around Yosemite Village,” Stephanie adds. I still can’t believe it, and I have none of River’s bashfulness. I turn full sideways to face her. “River…are you inviting me to come to your family Thanksgiving?” I ask. The glee that spreads through my tone is only half sarcastic.
“I’m asking if you’d like to accompany me on a discreet ASTF reconnaissance mission,” River answers, without looking back at me.
“I’d love to,” I chime. River does her best to frown in response, but I catch the little lurch of her lips, a smirk.
“We leave to prepare in a week,” River says.
“Just enough time for another visit to the Stronghold,” Bart announces. My mouth pops open to contribute, just because I’m involved. I’m not even sure which way I want to cast my vote: for or against. But Thise announces first:
“This is essential at this stage. Bart has been developing rapport with the Kyrie for some time. Cece, you’re still new to them. If you disappear for more than a week, they may catch onto what you’re really up to there.”
“A-alright,” I concede, after clearing my throat.
“Take a day to rest. Tomorrow, you head back,” Thise dictates. “I will cover your absence with notes to your instructors. Your work can be made up.”
“Understood,” I sigh. At least I have a day to recuperate this time. I just can’t blow it on wildly experimental Demon sex. When Thise dismisses us, the guys shoot off in every direction for their own rooms. I wait to see if Bryant will come talk to me, but he shuffles away. Do Demons get embarrassed? If they do, this would be the first time I’ve seen it. I turn to tease River some more on the way back to our room, until someone grabs me by the wrist. I know who it is by the chill of his touch.
“Would you like to go to dinner?” Bart asks before I’m even fully turned around. He gives me but a moment to consider it. His eyes zip across every inch of my face while it morphs expressions. He reads me like a book and cuts me off before I can turn him down. “To discuss strategy for our next visit to the Stronghold.” Sly. Maybe that’s what puts me the slightest bit off about Bart. How damn sly he is. But I have to respect it, even if I do challenge it.
“Too detailed a plan to talk out here?” I prompt him.
“Too covert to discuss in the open. Meet me by the San Francisco Tether tonight, around seven. I know the perfect place in town,” Bart says. He vanishes before I can accept or reject.
Bart,
Cook Behind the Curtain, San Francisco
Cece arrives at seven on the dot. I see immediately that she came dressed for business, as implied. To “discuss strategy”. It should be plenty easy to do that with her short black skirt and low-cut collared shirt that lets a little cleavage peek out. With her hair scrunched back into a perfect bun and a little wing on one side, just over her ear. With those gigantic crystalline eyes. I wear khaki slacks and a teal collared shirt. I’ve slicked my hair to one side on a gamble. I see by Cece’s involuntary smirk that the style is still applicable.
“Allow me to walk you?” I ask, arm crooked out as an offer. Cece raises an eyebrow.
“You’re a tad older than you look, aren’t you?” Cece asks, even while she slips her hand through the crook.
“Now, whatever gave you that idea?” I tease, and shoot off through the doors to the Tether. A blurred Cece in tow. We shoot down to the earth in the beam of Tether energy. My glossy black shoes clack against the ground running. I cut corners and rip down steel tower straightaways for about five seconds. Wind ripples out around us when my heels tap down, orange from the heat of such unnatural friction. Cece stumbles forward, right into my waiting arms. “First time on the Vampire train?” I tease her. Her hand over her mouth is answer enough.
“No, no… I do this…all the time. Guy down the hall,” she lies to me. Now that’s charm. Cece staunches the rise of bile in her chest however she can, which happens to be with words. “Where the hell are we? Still inside the Academy Training Zone?”
“Yes. A particularly well-hidden corner of it. So well-hidden, in fact, that the owner only takes new customers with a referral and only repeat customers are permitted to know its location. If someone new stumbles upon it, he moves it,” I narrate for her in a way so dramatic that it’s entirely unbelievable. I count the secon
ds until the realization sweeps over her that it’s all true.
“It’s a good thing I have a chaperone,” Cece says, and motions for me to take the lead. I put one hand on each of the glass doors to my favorite restaurant, and push the way open.
My dress shoes clack over hard tiles of crystal-coated granite. I walk on paths outlined by neon blue veins of precious mineral, all the way to the seating podium. I check behind me to see if Cece’s still following. She is, about five paces behind, eyes shooting up and down the walls of the impossibly huge building all around us. After all, it is five times larger inside. From the outside, it appears to be just another tiny, back-alley row home. Just the way Caesar likes it.
Inside, it’s a sprawling expanse of stone and glaring fine metals. Golden mirrored walls bounce back our reflections from every angle. Perfectly slick sheets of alternating silver and black steel stripe the ceiling. An ornate blue crystal chandelier hangs over each and every exquisite, gray-clothed table. I lean back just far enough to signal Cece, without distracting her too much from the marvels around her. I found the place just as fascinating on my first visit, though for very different reasons.
Caesar tended the bar himself back then, and it was hardly the high-top mahogany masterpiece it is now. As a matter of fact, it was made of discarded pallets and driftwood, I could never forget. Nor could the half-ripped up tiles and rotted subfloor underneath be yanked from my memories.
It was a time when bloodlust would have driven me to clamp down on and drain dry nine out of ten men in such a ramshackle rowhome. Of course, that’s what I was looking to do when I first walked through the door of the Cook Behind the Curtain. But Caesar was the tenth man. I walked in and he offered me a drink. I couldn’t sniff an ounce of fear on him, even when I showed my fangs. He only pulled me out a seat, since I was clearly thirsty, as he put it. He promised me he’d mix the best Bloody Mary I’d ever taste, and he did. When I asked him what the hell he was doing serving drinks in a shoddy rowhome, he only said, why, making it into a five-star restaurant. Enjoy it while it’s here, because it will change locations now that someone’s found it. It was to make sure not too many people saw it under renovation. Now Caesar keeps it up for exclusivity. To dazzle first-time visitors like Cece. As a master Magician, it’s no great feat for him to keep the entrance in constant flux. The bigger challenge is keeping others from detecting the trick or spilling the beans on the latest spot.
