A Shade of Vampire 66: An Edge of Malice

by Bella Forrest

  A thump behind me made me still, then turn around.

  “Dammit, Vesta!” Zeriel snapped, then dropped to his knees to pick her up.

  Vesta’s eyes had rolled into her head again, her body shaking as water poured out from her nose and mouth. Her convulsions were quite violent, and Zeriel had no choice but to keep his arms tightly wrapped around her torso to stop her from hurting herself.

  “These Hermessi folk are really starting to get on my nerves!” Bijarki said.

  “She’s out of it again,” Lumi said, then joined Zeriel on the ground in order to try and soothe Vesta’s seizures with a little bit of swamp magic.

  It was no good, though. Vesta froze, stiff as a board, then inhaled deeply, as if taking her first breath. She blinked several times, relaxing in Zeriel’s arms, and looked at him.

  “Tritones are children of water, you know,” she said, but her voice sounded different.

  “Aya,” I replied, instantly recognizing the shift in our fae’s demeanor.

  She smiled. “Indeed. I am truly sorry to do this, but it’s much more efficient than trying to reach out to you people in dreams or visions,” she said. “I have news.”

  “Yeah, we know the Hermessi agreed to help us!” Zeriel shot back.

  Vesta-Aya gently removed herself from his arms, then got up, water still running from her. It still wasn’t easy for her to move or talk, but it looked infinitely better than her attempt to use the lagoon corpse.

  “That’s not it. I have a message from my siblings, and it’s important that you follow it to the letter.” Vesta-Aya sighed. “We will help you, yes. But we need exactly one thousand and one fae present on Strava in order to act. Nothing more, nothing less. Precisely that number. Get us fewer, and we won’t be able to awaken properly. Get us more, and we’ll risk losing control.”

  “How so?” Lumi asked, frowning.

  “It is an ancient protocol that allows us to come to the surface. We are natural elements. We have no beginning or end, but we need limits in order to function without causing natural disasters—the kind that would kill many,” Vesta-Aya explained. “We need an exact number of fae. Otherwise, our help will amount to nothing, or, worse, it will ruin everything you’re trying to do.”

  Silence settled between us for a minute or two, as we took it all in. At least there wasn’t some insane sacrifice required. This was more of a logistical challenge, rather than anything else.

  “What did you do to Vesta earlier?” Zeriel asked, gritting his teeth. “Her fae abilities were out of control.”

  “She’s never done astral projection before,” Vesta-Aya replied. “I didn’t know. I do apologize for the trouble it caused, but I had to take her with me, to show her what I saw and heard. I needed her to understand what my siblings are like.”

  “Whoa, wait, astral projection?” Taeral gasped.

  Looking around, I saw that even Bogdana looked surprised.

  “All fae can do it, in order to connect to the raw form of the Hermessi, like I did with Vesta,” Vesta-Aya replied. “Your consciousness leaves your body and melds with mine. You become water or fire, earth or air. It’s how we communicate on a most intimate level. I thought you knew.”

  “We most certainly did not!” I blurted. “We have these elemental abilities, and we’re clearly more connected to the Hermessi than most creatures. We can defy the laws of physics and slip through the tiniest of cracks, but we never knew about astral projection!”

  Vesta-Aya smiled. “You slip through the cracks, like water, like air. Everything you are is deeply linked to us. Of course, we’re connected on a deeper level. Mind you, you cannot simply leave your bodies and go wherever you wish. It only works with us.”

  “Hah. Good to know,” Bogdana murmured. “I’ve been around for longer than I can remember, and even I had no idea.”

  “It was our best-kept secret,” Vesta-Aya replied, then looked at me again. “Remember, Ben. One thousand and one fae must be on Strava. No more, no less. It is the only way for us to activate ourselves and intervene in the affairs of Perfects.”

  I didn’t get to ask any other questions. The following second, water gushed out of Vesta, and she dropped to her knees, coughing and wheezing. Zeriel was back down on the ground, helping her again.

  “Jeez,” she croaked. “This never stops being uncomfortable!”

  “Do you remember anything she said?” Lumi asked. “Were you conscious during her possession?”

  Vesta shook her head. “It all went black. And now I’m here. It’s seriously getting on my nerves!”

  “We know what we have to do now,” I said, crossing my arms. “One thousand and one fae must be on Strava. No more, no less.”

  Vesta blinked several times. “Is that why she hijacked my body again? To tell us that?”

  I nodded. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

  “Hey, it’s better than most people have it, I think,” she grumbled.

  Lumi chuckled softly. “Oh, honey, it’ll never get easy. Not for us.”

  True enough, I’d seen worse. But the wary voice in the back of my head was telling me that this wasn’t our lowest point yet. That things would get rough. That the real pain had yet to come. And my stomach churned at the mere thought of it.

  This wasn’t going to be easy, and we were taking one hell of a risk with this next stage of our plan. We had to respect the fae number demanded by the Hermessi, and, most importantly, we had to make sure those we needed came to Strava safely, without a Perfect interception.

  That was the hardest part. They were more pissed off now than they were yesterday, since we’d stolen Amal. They weren’t going to pull any punches. Everything they had in store for us was going to be painful and possibly deadly.

  But, even so, we had to keep moving. Ever forward.

  Elonora

  “One thousand and one fae, specifically, huh?” I sighed, concluding our brief catchup with Ben over the comms system. “It sounds like the most important recipe of our lives.”

  “It basically is,” Nevis replied.

  We weren’t out of the hot zone yet. We’d put about ten miles between us and Ta’Zan’s colosseum, but we still had a long way ahead of us. The Perfects were going to get extra vicious with us, now that we’d run off with Amal.

  In the meantime, however, we’d spoken to Ben’s and Rose’s groups, well aware of the updates and the new challenges rising before us. Even so, my confidence levels were through the roof, and I needed every ounce of courage I could scrounge up in order to survive this and save my people.

  Raphael shot us a grin. “You didn’t think it was going to be easy, did you?”

  “Gah, I kind of hate you right now,” Varga retorted.

  “I love you too, sentry prince,” Raphael shot back, then looked over his shoulder.

  Ridan carried Amal on his shoulder, accompanied by Amane, Kallisto, and Dmitri—he was still sulking, and for good reason. Our failure to get Douma back resounded with all of us.

  “Let’s get ourselves out of this mess and back to safety, first,” I said, “then figure out this little math problem. We’ll definitely need that diversion to keep the Perfects busy while we bring the fae to Strava.”

  “You know, I don’t like this whole Hermessi possession thing,” Varga replied. “We all remember the Elders and what they did to the vampires, back in the old days, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’m wary, too, but it’s not like we have a choice right now. We need all the help we can get.”

  “Lenny, are you there?” Derek’s voice came through the earpiece.

  We’d spoken to him, too, and he’d promised to get back to us with an accurate fae prisoner count, given the Hermessi’s special request.

  “Yes! Yes, I’m still here!” I exclaimed, smiling. “How’d you get along in there?”

  “Good, considering,” he replied. I got the context quickly. He was still reeling from his separation from Sofia, but he had his eyes on the
ball, nonetheless. “There are precisely two hundred and fifty-six fae in here.”

  “Okay… That means we need… Oh, wait, with Ben, Vesta, Bogdana and Taeral, that’s two hundred and sixty already on Strava,” I mumbled.

  “Does Taeral count as a full fae, though?” Varga asked, slightly confused.

  “Ugh. I wonder if there’s some fine print about that,” I replied. “I think he does, though. He’s connected to the elements. He should!”

  “That will leave us with seven hundred and forty-one fae that must come to Strava, in order for the Hermessi to help us,” Derek said.

  “Leave that with us, Derek,” Nevis replied. “We’ve got this whole angle covered.”

  “He’s right,” I added. “You keep my grandparents safe, and we’ll make sure you and Sofia are back together soon enough!”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, honey. I’ll get Sofia back myself, like I always have,” Derek replied. “We’ll talk soon. Keep us posted.”

  And so, with a faint click, Derek was offline again. But that was okay. We couldn’t risk anyone discovering that earpiece in the dome. The shorter our communications, the better.

  “How much farther till base camp?” Ridan asked, panting as he jumped over a tree root.

  We kept up a speedy pace, running for miles on end in order to get out of the Perfects’ range. Our water travels were most perilous, so we stuck to a string of small islands, on the southwestern edge of Ta’Zan’s archipelago, which were interconnected by slim trails of dry land—the ideal bridges to help us dart from one island to the next without resorting to swimming or flying. As long as we kept moving, our chances of escape were significantly higher.

  “Why? Is Amal too heavy for you?” Varga chuckled.

  “She’s as light as a feather, smartass. I’m asking because those bastards are still too close,” Ridan retorted.

  They were going to get even closer if we slowed down.

  “We keep moving south,” I said. “We’re on the right track here.”

  “They’re not holding back this time,” Raphael replied.

  “Yeah, we really screwed the pooch with Ta’Zan,” Dmitri muttered. “But we have to figure out a way to get Douma back. This version of her is too dangerous. She knows too much. She could ruin everything.”

  “She won’t. We’ve come too far, and she doesn’t know where our base camp is,” I told him. “Relax, Dmitri. We’ll get her back, too. We need to get Amal and the venom to safety, first. You know that.”

  “I do. It doesn’t mean I like it,” he grumbled.

  “Nothing we’re doing right now is something we like,” Ridan chimed in, smirking.

  “Shut up, you’re lugging a hot chick over your shoulder. You don’t get to complain!” Varga retorted, bursting into laughter.

  “In my defense, I do enjoy pushing Ta’Zan’s buttons.” I giggled.

  Ridan grunted. A female gasp made us all look back at him. Amal was awake, and she wasn’t at all happy. She flailed, punching and kicking as she tried to free herself from Ridan’s tightening grip. The dragon, in turn, was doing his best to keep running and not fall over. Amane and Kallisto flanked him, both looking for an angle to knock Amal out without hurting Ridan.

  “Add that to things that could go sideways,” Varga snapped.

  Amal was relentless in her struggle. She managed to slip down his back, crossing her legs around his neck. She closed her thighs tightly, bringing Ridan to his knees. We were all forced to slow down and assist.

  Varga did the smart thing and went for a good old-fashioned mind-push. Amal cried out in pain—a little too loud for our position and circumstances, but it was enough to distract her and for Amane to drag her off Ridan and put her in a headlock. The twins were amazingly identical, thus making it weird for us to watch one suffocating the other into unconsciousness.

  Once Amal was out again, Varga picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

  “My turn,” he breathed, then resumed running.

  Amane and Ridan were both back up, along with Kallisto and Dmitri, while Nevis, Raphael, and I led the way again. We’d lost precious seconds in this scuffle.

  “Are you okay, Ridan?” I asked, my stomach shrinking into a painful marble as I heard the sonic booms get dangerously close. An attack was imminent.

  “Yeah. She packs quite a punch, though,” Ridan replied.

  “My sister doesn’t do half-measures,” Amane said. “But she’ll be out for a while.”

  “No time to tie her up,” Varga cut in. “Mind keeping an eye on her from behind, while we run for our lives? She’s clearly a grouchy one when she wakes up!”

  “They’re coming!” Raphael shouted.

  A split second later, a projectile shot through the jungle and landed several yards ahead of us. The earth exploded and ripped open, forcing us to move more to the right. With hostiles so close to us, our only choice was to reach the ocean again and jump on Ridan’s dragon back.

  “Ridan, you’re our best escape method!” I said.

  “Got it,” he replied, then ran faster to get ahead of us.

  Another explosion tore through the jungle to our right, forcing us back to the left. I cursed under my breath, then switched my pulverizer weapon to permanent-kill mode. I looked back and nearly froze at the sight of Cassiel and Douma leading an offensive of over two hundred Perfects—they looked like a black swarm descending from the sky and into the jungle.

  Trunks and branches broke, the sound of wood snapping sending shivers down my back.

  “Dammit, Douma!” Dmitri cursed under his breath, setting his weapon to bullets. “I hate doing this!”

  “You take Cassiel, then!” I shouted.

  “Didn’t he help us earlier?” Varga croaked, his voice breaking whenever he had to jump over a hurdle with Amal on his shoulder. “Ridan, you liar, you said she was as light as a feather, and she’s breaking my friggin’ back!”

  Ridan chuckled ahead. Somehow, we weren’t put off by this particular attack. We’d been through worse, and more was to come, but something was different this time. We’d pulled one over on Ta’Zan, and, despite the repercussions, it felt amazing.

  “Cassiel might’ve helped us, but, as you can see, he’s trying to tank us again! So, shoot!” I replied, then fired a pulverizer into the incoming cloud of Perfects.

  A puff of ashes burst in the middle of the descending formation. The Perfects broke rank and came at us from three different directions. We were forced to use our pulverizer pellet supply a lot quicker than expected.

  Raphael flew out and took several Perfects head on, hacking and slashing with his bare claws. He shot fireballs at them, big and intense enough to set dozens on fire at once. It wasn’t going to kill them, but at least they were temporarily disabled.

  My heart raced as I fired another pulverizer pellet, removing two Perfects at once. I knew that, if there were more than one hostile close together when the pellet exploded, the toxin would be at its highest efficiency rate.

  Cassiel kept his distance, frowning as he checked each of us out. He didn’t seem interested in fighting us, and that just pissed me off even more. If he was playing a part in front of Ta’Zan, he could at least do it right and not arouse his suspicions. Someone was bound to tell on Cassiel if he shirked his responsibilities, and then it was “back to the drawing board” for him.

  This double cross he was pulling was dangerous to all of us, and it made my job more difficult. Several bullets flew past Cassiel and got lodged in two Perfects still flying above him. Looking back on our crew, I saw Dmitri firing more bullets at him, a muscle twitching nervously in his jaw.

  But Cassiel wasn’t even our biggest problem. Douma was, as she lowered her flight and shot through the woods at a nearly supersonic speed. Judging by her trajectory, she was going to crash into Dmitri.

  “Watch out, Dmitri! She’s coming!” I shouted, then fired a couple of bullets at her, while the rest of our crew shot both types of projectiles at
the incoming Perfects.

  We’d increased our speed, running as fast as our legs could carry us, but it still wasn’t enough. I could smell the ocean, though. The moment we hit the beach, Ridan would go dragon and hopefully save our asses.

  Dmitri aimed his gun at Douma, but it was too late. He braced himself for impact, but it never came. She barely bumped into him in her flight, but she snatched his weapon. She turned around to face the rest of her squadron, flapping her wings to slow herself down, then switched to pulverizer mode and emptied the gun on… the Perfects!

  “What in the…” I managed, my breath stuck in my throat.

  Dozens were turned to ashes, as Douma emptied the pulverizer clip in strategic points in the flying group for maximum damage. Dmitri was as stunned as the rest of us, but there were still too many hostiles for us to stop and wonder what the hell was going on. We’d thought Douma was lost to us!

  “Get ready to jump!” Ridan snarled, as he was the first to reach the beach.

  Raphael joined Douma in flight, and they both fought back, firing bullets into our pursuers. They were out of pulverizer pellets already. We weren’t far behind, and there were still almost a hundred Perfects coming after us.

  We dashed across the beach, while Douma and Raphael covered our backs.

  Ridan tossed his backpack over to Amane, who caught it in the middle of a jump. He then ripped open into dragon form, his wings stretching wide and his humongous claws digging deep in the white sand.

  Varga was the first to jump on his back with a still-unconscious Amal, followed by Kallisto, Amane, Nevis, Dmitri, and me. We held on tight as Ridan flapped his wings and took off. The Perfects were right behind us, coming in hot.

  Raphael and Douma latched on to Ridan’s lower back, then reloaded their pulverizer weapons with ammo from Ridan’s backpack. They fired into the Perfects again, and several clouds of ashes burst through the flying crowd.

  The winds smacked into us. Ridan kept us at a low altitude, darting just above the ocean and headed south. I held on tight to his thick scales, breathing heavily as I tried to think of a way out of this mess.