Forever Young

by Daniel Pierce

  I ignored the dust on the floor. It helped lighten the place up, and anything that pushed the darkness away was a benefit.

  Settling in to wait, the hours stretched in uncomfortable silence, filled with the pain of not knowing. Then I turned to Tess, my patience at an end. “Maybe we should go back. We might be able to save a few people.”

  “Absolutely not.” Tess shook her head. Some of her hair got into her eyes, and I pushed it away for her. She relaxed as some of the tension eased, her breath slow and easy in the air that was stale with uncertainty. “The manor is almost certainly completely in enemy hands by now. That force will either own it or torch is, and we can’t just throw caution to the wind by going back.”

  I bowed my head. I didn’t quite agree with her, because going back wouldn’t be throwing ourselves away—we would be risking everything for a common goal, and one worth fighting for. We might find other Ferin on the way, or we might go it alone, but before I could argue, I heard dragging footsteps in the corridor outside.

  Tess heard them too. She grabbed her silver stake, and I readied myself to blow the whole mine to Hell. We couldn’t escape, so the only option was to take the vampires out with us in a blaze of glory. My heart pounded in my chest, but my hands were steady as my decision took hold and a calm washed over me.

  The people entering our space were Ferin, and I knew them. Mort looked much worse for wear. His wild hair was a clotted mass, and his clothing was in tatters. Those details fell away when I saw Margaret and her wounds. For a human, they were mortal. For a Ferin, they might still be. Her throat was cut to the bone, and there was a sucking chest wound the size of my fist. Her skin, now pale as death, had a sheen of sweat that told me she was on the edge of life.

  The fact that she’d survived this long was a miracle in itself.

  I rushed to help Mort set her down on one of the lower bunks. I didn’t know how I could help beyond that, so I pulled the blanket over her with a nervous twitch. She gave me a look of gratitude and stroked my face; her fingers cool to the touch.

  At second glance, she looked stable, and I revised my opinion of the Ferin once again.

  “What happened?” Tess asked, taking Margaret’s hand. Mort lifted her feet and placed them on his lap. I leaned against the wall, still feeling like an outsider. I’d given Margaret my energy. I focused on gratitude and love and tried to project it out. I didn’t know if it worked, or if she could use her empathy beyond siphoning a little of my life here and there, but I would try. She was worth every pulse, every thought, and even if necessary, a life.

  “Is anyone left?” Tess continued eagerly.

  Margaret looked at the wall while Mort lowered his gaze. “We’re fairly certain we’ve accounted for everyone,” he murmured. “There are only a couple we’re mostly sure of—the bodies were in bad shape when we found them—but it is what it is.”

  Tess bowed her head. “I see.”

  Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t say anything beyond that. I wasn’t sure why. The news obviously affected her, but she was choosing to keep her emotions internalized. Well, that was her choice, I supposed. Maybe she was trying to spare Margaret, whose empathic talents might be harmed by raw panic.

  “The vampires weren’t like anything I’ve ever seen before.” Margaret’s voice was thin, and it had an undeniable whistle to it. “I’m fifteen hundred years old. I’ve seen plagues, invasions, and I’ve seen empires fall. Those vampires were beyond the darkest vision I imagined.” She coughed hard, and a trickle of blood escaped from the corner of her mouth.

  I wiped it away with a paper towel, feeling vaguely useless and too new to the circle to be much help. The others had all known her longer than I had. I just wanted to make her more comfortable, and that need made me feel even less certain of myself.

  Margaret looked up, her eyes filled with gratitude. Then she took a wheezing, shallow breath and continued. “You need to leave this place. You have to go find Kamila.”

  Both Mort and Tess recoiled. I couldn’t tell why. I was sure I would find out.

  “She’s Ferin,” Margaret continued like she couldn’t see her friends’ disgust. “Jason, you need to speak with Kamila as soon as possible. Don’t linger in this crypt. Just go.”

  Tess scoffed. “He’s not going to be able to find Kamila, and she’s not going to talk to him. Kamila chose to live apart from us for a reason, Margaret.” Her words were harsh, but her tone was gentle as she spoke.

  Mort just nodded. His eyes reflected almost as much light as the mica in the walls, just more damply. For once, he was willing to let someone else do the talking.

  Margaret worked her way up to speaking again. “Kamila is the strongest fire-wielding Ferin I know. That makes her the best teacher Jason can get. He needs to be ready, Tess. The war is brewing, and it won’t wait for him to work up to it. It won’t leave her alone, either. I expect she’ll understand that.” She closed her eyes for a second, and then she pulled Tess down to her lips.

  They had a private conversation. I looked away respectfully and refused to be jealous about it. I wasn’t really part of any of this anyway. I’d been Ferin for less than a week. I wasn’t going to go sticking my nose in where it didn’t belong. They’d known each other for decades. Sharing one night with Margaret didn’t entitle me to anything, especially under the circumstances.

  Tess sat up, eyes wide. She looked directly at me. I didn’t know if she was looking at me with shock, horror, awe, or some combination of the three. My reaction was visceral.

  Margaret started to cough. Whatever was on Tess’s mind, she turned her attention back to Margaret right away. She had enough time to kiss her once, and then Margaret went still.

  Margaret was dead.

  Tears sprang to my eyes. I fought them back, but only barely. I’d never had a chance to talk to her about any of the things she’d seen and done, any of the things she’d experienced. I’d never had a chance to confront her about sleeping with me to rifle through my brain, either. In the end, though, Margaret hadn’t been bad to me, and it seemed a shame for someone who had been through so much to have died in such a painful way. Something kindled inside me as I looked at her body, now pale in death.

  Neither of the others showed much emotion, which unsettled me even further. Tess’s eyes were red, but she just folded Margaret’s arms over her chest. “We’ll need to move the body,” she said after a moment’s silence. “She wouldn’t want to stay down here.”

  Mort nodded. He scooped Margaret up in his arms, like a bride crossing the threshold on her wedding night, and carried her out into the dark corridor. Tess grabbed the flashlight, and we marched to the surface, our footsteps the only music for Margaret’s funeral.

  It was dark up there, too, still nighttime. The sun would rise soon. I could just see the vaguest hints of gold on the eastern horizon, a blush that was far too cheery for my current reality. For Margaret’s. For the Ferin.

  Mort carried her down to a deserted section of Maine beach, strewn with broken rock and tidal pools. I wondered, for a brief second, if he was planning on letting crabs or lobsters carry her off, but then he looked up at me quizzically. “Do you maybe want to do the honors?”

  I almost jumped. Surely, he didn’t want me to use my fire ability on Margaret’s body. It was still warm. I couldn’t think of any other way to treat her body with the respect she deserved, though. She deserved better than to be dumped at the morgue or tossed into the ocean, just to surface somewhere as a floater. I traced her face once more with my fingertips. She was already cold. Blinking hard, I let out the fire inside of me.

  At first, my flame resisted. I’d only used those abilities in anger—or in combat. This was grief, which was entirely different. After a few false starts, her remains caught with a muffled whump. Once the fire was going, it wasn’t hard for me to increase the heat and intensity, so she was fully engulfed in licking flames that raced over her body with sickening abandon.

  Within twenty minutes,
the body was consumed down to the finest ash. The sun peeked up over the trees, bringing a new day filled with hideous loss. Her ashes blew away, the grit getting into my eyes. I cried again for all that was lost.

  15

  We all slept, exhausted from emotion and loss, each on a separate bunk in the safehouse. I wasn’t sure how we were supposed to sleep at a time like this, but my body took over, and I fell into the waiting darkness without any effort. Apparently, using fire in a new manner could drain me in ways I had not known, yet another sign of being a new Ferin.

  I slept long, but not easy. I’d never been prone to nightmares, but that night, my dreams were full of blood, death, and woman wreathed in flames. My flames. I dreamed about being ripped by the vampire, his powerful hands holding me helpless. I dreamed about my encounter with Margaret, watching her sift my mind as our bodies came together in a soft union.

  I dreamed about making love to Tess as a sea of the undead lurked from the shadows, and in that dream, I knew fear.

  Mort finally woke me. “I was afraid you were going to start flaming,” he told me in a flat tone. “Can’t have that. We have no idea how much flammable gas there is in this place.” He sighed and glared at Margaret’s bloodstained bunk. “Which means no coffee.”

  I sat up and got out of my bed. Tess was there, dressed and ready to go. Her eyes were still red, but otherwise, she looked more or less unaffected.

  Mort licked his lips. “You guys should leave soon for Kamila’s place. The last time I heard from her, she was hiding out somewhere near Piney Mountain, Virginia. It’s outside Charlottesville. I’d get going if I were you. Stay off the main highways and try to avoid contact with as many people as you can. I get you’ll have to interact at least a little bit. Some things just can’t be helped.”

  He reached into one of the locked boxes and pulled out a leather backpack. Inside was a wad of cash. “Don’t lose this. Buy yourselves some way of getting around. That’ll cut down on transit time. Don’t get pulled over. I’ll make contact with you in about two weeks, okay?”

  “You’re not coming with us?” I took the backpack. I couldn’t believe it, and I didn’t try to hide my shock. “A whole group of us was just wiped off the map, and you want to split us up?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Mort flattened his mouth out, annoyed. “We were a major group, but we weren’t the only Ferin out here. There’s another group in Idaho, and I need to go check in on them. We don’t know if vampires around the country are banding together to try to slaughter us all, or if they’re just coming together here. I’m not abandoning you—not permanently, at least. We are part of a wider community, though, and we need to make sure there’s still a wider community left.”

  He left without a backward glance. I rubbed my fingers into my temples and tried to remember that people who’d lived for centuries had a very different idea of normal behavior and manners than I did.

  Tess sat in silence for a long few moments. Then she stood up. “Okay, cowboy, let’s blow this popsicle stand. We’ll go get ourselves a couple of bikes and start heading south.”

  Part of me thought wildly that she was talking about bicycles. The thought of heading down to Virginia on a bicycle seemed ludicrous to me.

  Heading down on a motorcycle seemed even crazier.

  “I don’t actually know how to drive one of these,” I told her as we sat in a Dunkin Donuts and tried to find a pair of used motorcycles for sale. “I’ve never been on one. Shouldn’t we get like a used van we can sleep in or something?”

  “Too noticeable,” she told me, sipping from her coffee. She didn’t even look up. “And too unreliable. You’ve got two choices with the bikes, Jason. You can learn fast, or you can ride bitch.” She grinned wickedly, and I shrank a little in my seat.

  I didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter.

  Fortunately, once we found someplace that didn’t want to see proof of a license or anything, I figured out how to drive quickly enough to get the thing out of their driveway and off to a cemetery. On rolling hills surrounded by peaceful stillness, Tess taught me how to do everything else I needed to know, and my Ferin instincts were on full display. My body learned fast. All I needed now was practice, and I’d be getting plenty of that on our way down to Virginia.

  We picked up some appropriate attire, too. No one would look twice at people riding Harleys, dressed like Harley riders. Everyone would have stared at a couple of lumberjacks riding around on motorcycles, or folks in khakis, which was what I’d stolen to dress us in. My natural disdain for all things hipster, made changing into riding gear a pleasure as well as a necessity.

  “It’s not frivolous or profligate,” Tess explained to me as we shopped. “It’s about fitting in and not drawing attention.”

  Since I hadn’t called it frivolous or profligate, I had to assume she was the one with the problem. She obviously had some kind of a need to address the concept though, and I didn’t have a right to her past unless she decided to share it. I just liked how she looked in leather and denim, frankly, making a mental note to ask her if cosplay was on the menu once things settled down. After all, I had eternity before me.

  We got on the road right away, heading south toward New Hampshire and then into Massachusetts and Connecticut. We made it into New York City before we had to stop for the night, as the sun fell in a purple bruise to the west. I managed to get my feet under me again, and we hit a local tavern for beers and cheeseburgers. The server gave our youthful faces a searching look but said nothing, and in an hour, we moved on to find a place to crash.

  Crash is the right term for what we found. At a sketchy motel, there were other bikers everywhere, loud and brazen as they flooded the halls and lobby. One group of men invited Tess, in crude terms, to join them for the night. Another group of men intervened. I just looked at the guy being crudest, took a wild guess as to which bike was his, and let my anger out in the form of a single spark. “Dude, are you sure your ride’s okay? I see a lot of smoke.”

  There was a lot of smoke. Because I’d set the prick’s ride on fire.

  Tess wagged her finger at me when we were safely in our room. “Setting people’s stuff on fire with the power of your mind is not the way to stay off the radar.” She sounded mad, but a little grin played around at the corners of her lips, so I doubted she was too pissed off. “What if they go talking and the vamps hear about it?”

  I shrugged. “There’s no indication it was me. I didn’t touch the bike. I didn’t go near the bike. And people don’t go around causing fire with their mind, correct?”

  I offered her the first shower because I was a gentleman.

  She invited me to share it because she was a lady and a sincere environmentalist. We both suspected the motel wouldn’t have a whole lot of hot water in the tank, and as it turned out, we were right. We kept ourselves warm, though, and despite Margaret’s loss, our chances were looking up. Or at least part of me was.

  We headed out before the sun was up, stopping for coffee as soon as we got into New Jersey, the road before us in a broken ribbon. We stayed quiet now, both lost in our own thoughts. I couldn’t be sure what was on her mind, but I suspected it wasn’t much different from my own.

  Margaret was dead, and we were at war. I didn’t feel quite like I was at war because I had no frame of reference. I’d worked in insurance my whole career. I’d never had the chance to do anything truly wild and off the wall, or even risky. Now here I was, young again and riding a motorcycle down the scenic byways of the East Coast. I had a beautiful, strong woman by my side, and immeasurable years loomed before me—if we survived.

  As if the thought summoned the memory, an image of the vampire who’d almost killed me back at the mansion sprang before my eyes. I could see his melted face healing in front of me, and smell the foul vapors of his flesh. My stomach turned, but I sat straight as the realization hit home. It was a war. Of elimination.

  I swallowed hard. “So, war? What do you think she meant by that?”


  Tess rolled her eyes. “Tea parties and lollipops, Jason. What do you think she meant?”

  I chuckled. Tess was a velvet hammer. “That’s the thing. I don’t actually know anything. Are we dropping in on Transylvania with a payload of silver, or is there another option here?”

  “Huh. I’ve never been to Transylvania. And I think the first vampire stories actually came from a little farther south and east than that—like Greece and Albania. The mountains around there are beautiful but creepy as fuck. No wonder they inspired legends.” She sipped from her coffee again. “I wonder if we could find a way to aerosolize silver, though. And I wonder why we haven’t tried before. It’s a good question for Mort, next time we see him.”

  I bit back my frustration. “It could be a while before we see Mort. Maybe we can figure out how to do it ourselves.” I drummed my fingertips on the table. “Someone’s got to have already figured out how to do it. Not necessarily for these purposes, but maybe for industrial use.”

  “Mort will know.” She put her hand on mine. “I know it seems like a genius idea right now. But he’s been around for a good thousand years. He’s seen and heard a lot of ideas. He’s watched them flop and seen people die trying to make them work. We should at least run it by him.”

  I didn’t have as much faith in Mort as she did. Sure, he hadn’t steered me wrong—yet—but he also didn’t take me seriously, and if we were going to survive, we had to be able to listen to what everyone had to offer. Our victory would come in pieces, and those pieces had to come from all of us.

  “He’s been around a long time,” I agreed. “But the vampires are still a threat. We’re on our way to meet this Kamila person. Why? Because she has a solution to our war?”