Corrupting Alicia

by Tsoukalas, Evan

  When she finished, she walked toward me, a different hunger on her face. At the last moment, she veered away and bumped her hip into mine as she passed, casting a sly grin over her shoulder as she exited the kitchen.

  I followed her into the living room like a stray puppy, going for the “casual lean” against the wall facing the couch where she lowered herself gracefully. I watched her as she tried to remember where our conversation had left off, and after a few moments, her eyes went bright with revelation. Ohh, yes. Secrets, her mind's voice said. "Have you ever made another?" she asked softly, her face still flushed from our encounter in the kitchen.

  Wow. That was a doozy, and I coughed a few times trying to swallow it. She regarded me coolly, awaiting my answer, and I remained silent for a few moments. After a time, I answered stiffly, "Yes,” and immediately felt the need to qualify my actions because I’d yet to forgive myself for them. “But it was when I was a fledgling, in a tense and confusing situation that required an immediate decision. Looking back, I guess I made the wrong choice.” Pain wrapped its volcanic fingers around my heart, and I could feel my lips compressing into a thin line. Kane’s Conversion was still an open, festering sore that stung bitterly at the slightest touch.

  Alicia saw my pain, and her eyes deepened with sympathy and apology. I could see a million questions within their depths, but, out of respect for my anguish, she asked none of them. I appreciated her discretion.

  "Will you ever make another?" she whispered, so softly that it almost escaped even my hearing. Instantly, I searched her mind to determine why she was asking. After a thorough investigation, it was clear that she was wondering if the thought of Converting her had crossed my mind, not because she wanted it per se but because she was genuinely curious. I can’t adequately describe how relieved I was that she had no underlying desire to become revenant, probably because I was afraid I might be foolish enough to give it to her.

  "Perhaps, though most of the others would rather I didn’t."

  "Why not?" she asked, suspecting the answer. I found it refreshing that she didn't offer her beliefs, but instead, waited for me to answer. It was best that way, to leave her with as few misconceptions as possible. Some were inevitable, but others could be avoided.

  "Because one powerful fledgling revenant is enough for them. Too much sometimes." My words confirmed her feelings, and she smiled triumphantly.

  "How do you do that, exactly? My experience is limited to fiction, and there is a difference of opinion there."

  I laughed heartily. Mortal fiction has become a source of humor for me. If I made a revenant simply by biting an individual, my spawn alone would number in the thousands, and I have now been revenant for almost seven years. It was too outrageous to even contemplate. "The mortal is usually drained to the point of death and then fed the Blood of his revenant benefactor. It's not necessary to drain all the blood, but it makes the Conversion quicker."

  She followed my explanation easily, and I was taken aback by her rapid assimilation of information that would have horrified her a few hours before. "That makes sense,” she said with an absent nod. “If there’s a lot of human blood in the system, the revenant Blood gets diluted, so it takes longer."

  "Right," I replied approvingly. "That's how the strength of progeny is controlled. Though a revenant might be very powerful, he can transmit less of that power to the fledgling by limiting the amount of Core Blood.”

  "That's why you get stronger with age!" she proclaimed excitedly, proud of her ability to grasp this alien subject so quickly. "Your Blood becomes more refined, more efficient. With each infusion of blood into your body, it gets better and faster at breaking it down and assimilating it! The older revenants probably have no trace of human blood very soon after feeding."

  I was so completely awed by her analysis that I'm sure my mouth fell open. I'd never thought of it that way. Who says you can't learn anything from mortals? "I don't know for certain, but that seems like a good way to think of it." Imagine that, a mortal with a better grasp of revenant internal goings-on than the most powerful revenant on the planet! Talk about humbling.

  Or it would have been if I hadn’t been such an egotistical bastard.

  Alicia must have sensed my awe because she shot me a humorous expression. She wasn't laughing at me, but something about my expression struck her as funny. Considering what we were discussing, I found that amazing. "What?" I asked.

  "Do you hold such a low opinion of us that you don't expect any intelligence at all?" she asked, her voice powder-coated with hurt. For the first time, she began to think she wasn't quite so special in my eyes, which was completely untrue, and I told her as much.

  "Alicia, that’s an occupational hazard, so to speak. I've known far too many mortals who couldn't have found intelligence in the dictionary when it was opened to the right page." In an instant, I was there, kneeling in front of her. "But you are special to me. So very special. I could spend your lifetime telling you this, and I'd never fully get you to understand exactly what I mean."

  She looked at me for a long time, weighing my words. After a while, the cloud left her face to make room for the desire and delight at my words. She reached out with both hands to grasp my face, and upon the contact, she sighed. The warmth of my skin had faded completely, and I could tell that it bothered her, even without her thoughts confirming it to be the reason for her sigh.

  After words like that, we should go to the bedroom, she whispered in her mind. She was speaking to me, quite on purpose, without words. In fact, she was doing it so well that I only needed a light sweep to pick up on it. After a few lessons, I wouldn't have to read her mind at all to hear her, and this prospect thrilled me almost as much as her words did. But I don't think I can get into it with your skin so cold, and I know that I couldn't do it if you went out and made your skin warm again, if I knew how much my pleasure cost someone, and that you'd done it because of me.

  I understand, Alicia, I replied, projecting my voice into her head, and she was so receptive to me that she winced as if I'd shouted in her ear. Better? I asked, toning my mental voice down several notches. She nodded her head. It'd be easier for you if warmth was the byproduct of feeding rather than a conscious preparation for intimacy.

  She nodded again, vigorously. Can you understand that? I know it must be semantics for you, but it's really important to me. Her mental voice was pleading with me to understand, but she didn't realize that understanding is never a prerequisite for me. However, I did understand. I was mortal once, and it wasn't so long ago that I couldn't remember some things.

  I don’t have to understand, Alicia. It's important to you, and that’s all that matters to me.

  She pondered my statement for a while, mulling it over. I could sense that it wasn’t enough for her, that she needed my understanding regardless of my requirements. I raised my arms to her shoulders, running my fingertips lightly down her arms before resting them on her forearms. My thumbs idly rubbed the taut muscles, and she closed her eyes. But I do understand.

  She opened her eyes again, a smile on her lips, but I could tell that she was weary. Fatigue had set in and taken root, and fighting with her desire to be with me and her revulsion at my cold and unyielding body was making it worse. As much as I wanted to stay and continue, I knew it would be too much for her.

  "You should get some rest," I said, startling her because it was spoken out loud. "I sometimes forget mortal limitations."

  "Don't," she said, narrowing her eyebrows. She was playfully mocking my earlier anger, but somehow, her voice lacked even the playful menace to pull it off. I smiled weakly, shaking my head slightly, and she shrugged as if to say 'what do you expect from a mortal?'

  Without replying, I gathered her in my arms and carried her to the bedroom. Laying her gently on the king bed, I brushed my lips across her forehead, then her lips. She gripped my coat between her fingers, pulling me close. "You'll be back tomorrow night?" she whispered.

  "I can’t g
uarantee it." She opened her mouth to object, but I placed my hand over it. "There are revenants to placate, and I may not be able to get away when I want to." Reaching into the pocket of my coat, I pulled out the cellular phone that Jeffrey asked all of his clients to carry. "I'll call you tomorrow, either way. Don’t answer the room phone, no matter what, and I'll hang the DND sign on the door." I wanted to tell her not to leave the room, to order room service to eat, but I figured she wouldn't listen anyway, so what was the point? I couldn't exactly check up on her, now could I?

  The order must have been written on my face. "You don't want me to leave the room, do you?" she asked softly, her eyes holding mine.

  "I think it'd be safer, but I can't control you, at least not in any way I'd want to use," I replied softly, smiling earnestly.

  "Promise me you'll take me out when you come back, and that you're not going to be gone a week, and I'll stay put." The sincerity in her gaze captivated me, and before I dipped into her mind, I believed her.

  "Promise, on both counts. I won't stay away longer than one night."

  "Good. I'll take your word for it. Because I know you." She looked deep into my eyes while speaking, and I could read the emotion in hers. Having said what she wanted to say, she closed her eyes and her body went slack. I kissed her forehead gently and stood up straight, my heart beating so fast and so hard that I feared it would leap from my body. I felt an indescribable pleasure at her words, at the trust implied. I wouldn't betray that.

  After one last glance down at her peaceful face, I left the bedroom. I walked into the kitchen, covering the room service tray and picking it up. Leaving the kitchen, tray in hand, I opened the door to the hallway. With one last look around the room, I grabbed the DND sign from the backside of the door and let myself into the hallway, the door closing behind me with a hydraulic hiss.

  Placing the DND sign on the handle, I closed my eyes and willed the safety chain and deadbolt to lock. Satisfied that she was as safe as she could be, I set the tray outside the door and made my way to the stairwell. I hate elevators. Riding up with Alicia had been the first time since my Conversion.

  I descended the stairs, my preternatural footsteps making no sound, lost in my thoughts of Alicia. When I arrived on the lobby landing, I slipped my hands into my pants pockets, mentally opening the door before I got there. It was fully open when I passed through it without breaking stride.

  Across the lobby I went, and then into the crisp, night air moments later. The clear night welcomed me with cold, wraithlike arms, and as I started to calculate the time to sunrise at my intended destination, I began to realize that something was different.

  My eyes shifted from object to object in an attempt to identify the difference, but it was slippery, eluding my grasp like an eel. The air was still and light, the sheerest of silk enveloping my skin. It was quiet, but as with all revenants, I could hear the subtle sounds of the darkness, and even those had a different quality to them, as if I were listening to them through a large tunnel.

  Straining with all my senses, willing myself to insert the missing piece into this puzzle, I felt my gaze return to the sky. Were the stars different, looking down on me like thousands of eyes? Was it the barest sliver of moon, hanging like a wickedly curving blade, its pale, bluish-yellow glow surrounded by a dim, circular outline a few shades lighter than the sky that fenced it in? Revelation hung just outside my grasp, taunting and teasing me, and then it struck, washing over me in wave after wave of clarity that defined the difference.

  I was different, as if my time with Alicia had given me a new pair of eyes capable of once again recognizing the marvel and wonder of everything around me. This startling realization should have freaked me out, or at the very least made me uneasy, but it seemed as if wariness couldn’t be sustained while in the presence of such magnificence.

  Alicia had given me back the night and all its splendor, which had somehow gotten lost in the routine of living, relegated to the “Taken for Granted” section of my consciousness, nestled quietly between my power over the BloodHunger and my love for Gisele. It seemed to me that its placement was no accident, but rather a conscious warning that dominated my mind for a few moments before it was quickly carried away by each thing I rediscovered in the night around me. Piece by piece, it drifted away like soil eroding under the incessant tide, and then it was gone so abruptly that I could barely remember why I was apprehensive about it in the first place.

  Shaking my head, I recalculated the dawn equation. Satisfied that I could make it before dawn despite the time difference, I took to the sky, flying with my greatest speed to upstate New York and the underground caverns that are the Ekhaya.

  ◆◆◆

  I descended onto McDuffy Road a little over ten minutes before dawn, a frost sheen on my clothes, face, and scalp. It began to melt almost immediately, icy rivulets running down my face and into my collar. I made a cursory attempt to wipe them away while I proceeded up the driveway toward a decrepit farmhouse that appeared to be on the brink of imminent collapse. Paint almost nonexistent, the house was the same color in both daylight and darkness, a weathered gray that old wood becomes under the barrage of time. Its appearance was quite planned and utterly artificial; carefully hidden inside was a support structure that would last for hundreds of years.

  Thick, heavy snow covered the eroding gravel driveway and would have come up to my hips if I’d walked through it, but I hovered above it all the way up to the house. I’m pretty sure my footsteps would go unnoticed, and the driving snow would soon cover them anyway, but safe is always better than sorry.

  The icy wind whipped around my face and neck, stinging slightly as I approached the foot of the slate steps. They were covered with a foot of ice from water runoff thanks to a missing portion of rusty gutter from the roof above. Flying up the stairs, I entered an open doorway that slanted so far to the left that it was no longer big enough for an adult to fit through unless he or she was turned sideways.

  Once inside, I lowered myself to the floor, and it creaked in protest under my weight but held fast. I walked swiftly to the crumbling stone fireplace as large as a Buick, filling half the room and stretching through the second floor. Standing in the appropriate spot, I reached out with my mind and envisioned the mechanical lever more than seventy feet below me. Inside my head, I saw my hand reach out and pull it down, my imagination supplying the clanking gear sound. The floor swung out from under me without a sound, and I fell into the darkness below.

  When my feet hit the ground, I stood before a massive stone door that was easily big enough for Andre the Giant and Goliath to pass each other side by side. To the left of the door, a high-tech scanning device was mounted to the wall; next to it a rusty, iron lever that might have been taken from a piece of medieval machinery. The odd juxtaposition of old and new, side by side, was a perfect indicator of what lay beyond the door.

  I raised the lever and when the trapdoor above my head closed as silently as it opened, the scanning device came to life with a pale red glow. Placing my hand into the tray, I felt the prick of four tiny needles draw Blood from randomly determined points on my hand. An unseen computer determined that I was indeed myself, and the door slid downward with a whisper. Up until about twenty years ago, opening the door to the Ekhaya had apparently sounded like a castle drawbridge lowering.

  The marvels of modern hydraulics.

  I brushed the snow and ice from my coat as I stepped into the corridor. There were torches on both sides, but as usual, they weren't lit. I don't remember ever seeing them lit, which prompts the question of why bother to install them at all. Revenants don’t need light to see where they are going, and Jeffrey carries a flashlight.

  I paused for a moment as I often do when I enter the Ekhaya, gently inhaling the dank, earthy scent of old, packed dirt, eyes closed to savor the familiar smell that has come to mean home to me. Sometimes I am still and silent for minutes, other times for hours, but if I wait long enough, I can begin to mak
e out the individual scents of other revenants who have passed through this corridor, as unique as a fingerprint yet so inextricably mashed together that they are both pleasant and assaulting at the same time, similar to stepping into the kitchen at a restaurant and taking a deep breath. Some scents are recent enough to be measured in minutes, others in days or weeks, but all decorate the walls like artwork and hang in the air like fragrant smoke.

  And always there is the feeling of power, skittering up my spine with insistent fingers while hovering just outside the range of identifiable sensation. Power can also be a signature, but when even a few different strands of it are mixed together, they fit like thin, plank LEGOs that have been pressed together hard enough to become nearly impossible to separate with fingernails.

  To my knowledge, the Ekhaya boasts the largest concentration of revenants in the world, but that may not be saying all that much. There aren’t as many of us as you might think, either in the Ekhaya or the world, and for the most part, we all pretty much attempt to stick to ourselves, though that's not always something within our control.

  As a societal concept, the Ekhaya is without peer. Any number of vampires living together in peace can be difficult during the best of times, but equal opportunity living (i.e... revenants of all ages) is a bold and progressive idea considering the older vampires are often worse than the British about Bloodlines and ancestry.

  The most impressive aspect of the Ekhaya is that only one law extends beyond its boundaries, which is completely unique among any significant gathering of revenants in recorded history or myth, and the remainder of the startlingly few laws solely govern action within the Ekhaya. The laws are simple, as is the punishment for breaking them:

  First Law - Never endanger the Ekhaya, by word, deed or inaction.