Corrupting Alicia

by Tsoukalas, Evan

  Second Law - The Ekhaya is a sanctuary; violence is not permitted.

  Third Law - No one may be invited to the Ekhaya without the approval of the Council of the Founders.

  Fourth Law - Except in cases where the First Law is violated, no action outside the Ekhaya is punishable within it.

  Breaking the First Law meant death, and violating any of the others resulted in permanent exile and possibly MindCleansing, which could more aptly be called MindRaping. More art than science to begin with, it is further hindered by the fact that it’s not exercised all that frequently. Even in the hands of a powerful and skilled revenant, MindCleansing often drives the recipient so completely insane that he must be put to death anyway.

  With a combined 1400 years of wisdom between them, Nekros and Mthumbo founded the Ekhaya in 1507, although its current isiZulu name came much later. They traveled the world in search of revenants willing to breathe life into this new and fragile idea. Those who elected not to join the Ekhaya were left alone, with neither animosity nor judgment and were, of course, not given its location.

  When the pair was finished, they had recruited far more than they had ever expected. Eighty-six revenants returned from what was once jokingly referred to as “the Crusades” by an unfortunate revenant whose humor was apparently lost on the Founders. He was rewarded with a stern lecture and the sole responsibility of digging out sixteen of the forty rooms that were added to the Ekhaya in the first ten years.

  I currently control the Ekhaya, though it has changed noticeably from the purity of the initial vision, first by my Conversion and then by the awakening of the Ancients. I’d like to think it was Ancients who brought about the shitty changes, but considering myself to be among the few who have struggled to uphold the original vision of the Founders, one of whom was my revenant mentor, may just be my vanity and denial having the same tired conversation.

  I lead the Council of the Founders, and the five Ancients take the remaining seats. I spend most of my time baby-sitting them, which consists of many duties but mainly boils down to holding them in check and putting up with their ridiculous and incessant complaining. I resent the job I’ve been forced into, but I suppose I should be grateful because I couldn’t imagine revenant life under anyone’s thumb, especially not the Ancients, who would rule the Ekhaya by default if not for my existence.

  In return, the Ancients resent my position, the fact that they can’t keep me under their thumbs, and everything else, too. They have their own (mostly laughable) ideas about how revenant life should be, and being the oldest of us convinces them that they always know what they’re talking about and that no one else is capable of knowing anything, especially if it’s me.

  Collectively, the six of us know all there is to know; they know everything except that they’re damn fools, and I know that...

  Put it all together, and what do you get? The most dysfunctional family on the planet, so fucked up that even a trip to a county fair in the backwoods of West Virginia can’t make it seem any better. Some days, I can almost see the humor in it all, but most of the time, it’s irritating as a motherfucker.

  Sense a little disdain here? To be fair, I get along fairly well with two Ancients, which is to say that they probably only resent me subconsciously. I honestly have no clue what the third thinks of me, nor why I even care at all. As for the remaining two, well, I know they hate me. Maybe not me exactly because they barely know me, but they certainly hate everything I represent. If it were in their power, they would have punched my ticket exactly ten days after my Conversion, and I often laugh at their impotence because it pisses them off and because I’m an asshole.

  We mustn’t forget that little tidbit, though it will probably become obvious soon enough. If it hasn’t already...

  The miserable state of our relationships notwithstanding, I’m pretty certain they just don’t get it, and despite their best efforts, they continually prove that on a daily basis. I’m not saying that I do, but then, I don’t think I do, either. It doesn’t matter how long you live, or how much you see or do, nothing is capable of giving you wisdom if you think you already have it.

  At the time of Alicia, there were a surprising number of revenants living outside the Ekhaya, some due to the recent shift in office politics, and even today I don’t personally know half of the Earth’s revenant population. In the recent years, many have learned that it's a fairly large world when we relax a little. Each revenant pretty much keeps to himself, staying within his claimed territory unless something important requires otherwise, and the Ancients and I can roam freely because no one can stop us.

  Most revenants accept my presence. I’ve tried to instill a ‘Leave me be, and I’ll do the same’ policy, but some, mistaking my golden skin for novus sanguis, liked their own policies better, most of which were a tad less progressive. For the majority of those morons, that was the last mistake they ever made. A distinguished few still draw blood, for one reason or another (usually whimsy), but I’m certain they’d rather chew off their arms than cross my path again.

  A faint sound penetrated the haze of memory and brought me tumbling from my thoughts. I walked quickly, passing the recessed entrance to the cavern where the Ancients had lain since they were rediscovered by Ekhaya search parties, and in fact, where they still lay each day during Slumber. It was almost dawn, but I could sense only one presence there: Octavian, the eldest Ancient. Being the first to receive Temujin's undiluted blood, he was, pound for pound, the most powerful of them.

  We’ve never gotten along; we’ve never even bothered to pretend to get along. Used to being in charge both in mortal and revenant life, Octavian tries to impose his will on everyone and everything, and he’s never gotten over the fact that he can’t with me.

  We had quite a brawl the last time I was here. The Second Law is not really enforceable when those breaking it are the two most powerful members of the Ekhaya.

  Octavian had sensed my presence immediately upon my arrival, and the smooth wall of his mental shield had snapped into place a few nanoseconds later. I find it funny that he always shields his thoughts from me. I don’t have the slightest desire to read them, and it’s not particularly difficult to know what he’s thinking at any given time, anyway. Thankfully, he had no intention of interacting with me, his pride not healing as fast as his legs, which I broke savagely during our last encounter. He was fortunate Gisele had intervened, or it would have been a lot worse.

  Whatever. I didn't really want to be bothered by him anyway, so I continued on without giving him another thought.

  I came to the fork in the corridor, bearing left toward a common area. Going right would bring me to the Council chamber, but after Nekros' passing, we rarely used it anymore. The Ancients and I were the new, impromptu Council, and they didn’t like to uphold any of the old Council rituals. Actually, I was the Council, when I wanted to be, and in my absence, the duty fell to Octavian, or so he decreed. Another thing that made him hate me.

  He liked me well enough when I saved his sorry ass from being roasted to a crisp by Zharr... Shit... Why do I let him get to me? Angrily, I shoved away all thoughts of him once again.

  I walked into the smallest of the common chambers, which is filled with exquisite furniture of differing periods and ages, perfectly preserved and restored by a delightful revenant named Genevieve, who had joined the Ekhaya after being Converted in her Montreal flat by the shameless Xavier in 1840. Xavier was the revenant version of a slut, having Converted so many mortals that his fledglings were the weakest members of the Ekhaya.

  Well, those who were still alive, at any rate.

  Sitting at one of the tables, a thick torch burning brightly on the nearby wall, the smell of it vaguely sweet, were Maximilian and Talman. They were playing chess, most likely the same game as the last time I saw them. Maximilian is First Generation, like Octavian, and he'd been a great scholar in his time. Talman had been one of the greatest minds of the early 1900's before he was Converted in 1912
and dropped out of sight. No one knew exactly who was responsible for Talman's Conversion, and he didn’t want to know. He accepted his existence with a calm equanimity that impressed me.

  They enjoyed each other's company greatly, often sitting for hours at the hand-carved onyx board doing nothing but telling stories to one another, arguing everything from basic theology and philosophy to quantum mechanics, and occasionally making a move or two in the process.

  As I entered the warmly lit chamber, they were both actually concentrating on the board and didn't notice me until I was almost next to the table. Maximilian looked up absently, as if expecting someone, nearly jumping up from the chair when he recognized me. "Jason!" he gasped, reaching out to clasp my shoulder. "Thank heavens you’re here! Gisele has been positively dreadful in your absence." His voice had a slight British lilt, though it was practiced because he was about as British as Sun Tzu, and it was deep and booming, which was really amusing considering the slight package it emanated from. It reverberated throughout the small cavern.

  "How’s that any different from when I’m here?" I asked with a smile and a wink. Maximilian laughed heartily, his golden hair trembling with the movement.

  Maximilian and I were de facto buddies because Maximilian and Octavian have hated one another since the day they met. Come to think of it, I'd be hard pressed to find a revenant, Ancient or otherwise, who actually got along with Octavian for any reason other than fear or to spite me, and it would surprise me to hear anyone say something genuinely nice about him. He often says that one does not have to like him, only respect him, and I always laugh at him, commenting on how ridiculous that statement is and reminding him that I do neither. This makes him angry, which is obviously the whole point. We’ve gotten so good at our semi-witty interplay that it’s better than any episode of The Odd Couple and both Grumpy Old Men movies combined.

  Maximilian fell silent for a second, as if in contemplation, and then he erupted into laughter. "Quite right. Quite right!" he exclaimed, patting my shoulder once more and coiling gracefully into his chair. Talman regarded me with a neutral gaze, saying nothing, and I nodded in acknowledgment. He nodded back, and the two of them resumed their game posture.

  I proceeded to the doorway opposite the one I’d entered. Thanks to Maximilian, anyone not previously aware of my arrival certainly was now. Rather than walking around in the corridors and having to greet everyone making their way to wherever they Slumbered for the day, I plopped down on an exquisitely carved marble bench that rested against the wall to the left of the doorway. Closing my eyes and leaning my head against the cool, damp wall, I lit the torch above my head with a simple mental gesture.

  Being a relatively young revenant, I haven’t outgrown the preference to light over darkness while indoors. Being condemned to live in the night hours, I find a certain comfort in being surrounded by light. Having been around long before electricity, the majority of revenants in the Ekhaya have a penchant for darkness that I try to disturb as little as possible.

  I reveled in the feel of the warmth generated by the torch as it melted the last vestiges of ice clinging to my preternatural skin.

  I felt Gisele approaching long before she actually arrived at the other entrance to the chamber. I could see her in my mind's eye as she leaned against the doorway, elegant arms folded across her chest. She regarded me in silence, and I could feel her gaze as if it were a pair of hands. "Hello, love," I said softly without opening my eyes.

  "I should hope you have a truly profound reason for being such an asshole," she returned quickly, her tone frosty and brittle. Gisele used to have the most wonderful manner of speech, and I suppose that I'm to blame for turning her on to the sketchy vernacular that she currently employs. Her mastery of idiomatic English and the slang I tend to use is both impressive and appalling. I often miss the delicate manner of speech that she abandoned in favor of mine.

  I sighed lightly, still enjoying her biting wit in whatever form she packaged it. She wasn't so much angry as hurt, and I felt guilty for my role in that. All at once, I lost any desire to argue with her, but Gisele has a way of making me do things I don’t much want to do. "Gisele," I began softly, opening my eyes to look at her flawless face. "I love you dearly, but I'm not at your beck and call," I finished with a little more vigor than I’d intended. See what I mean?

  She cocked her head to one side, her eyes flaring in challenge. "I am not a moron, Jason. I know that," she snapped petulantly, her body coming away from the wall and her posture now rigid and straight as an arrow.

  "Do you really?" I asked, raising one eyebrow. "Somehow, I find that hard to believe," I said dryly. Gisele growled in frustration, and I knew then that she didn't want to fight with me, either.

  "You are impossible,” she sighed after a moment, her eyes rolling upward, but I could tell by her tone that she was capitulating. In a heartbeat, I was at her side, my arms around her. She remained rigid, fighting the capitulation, but after receiving a few strokes of her hair, she leaned into me, her lips pressing against my neck. My heart rate increased, as it always does when she touches me.

  “I’ve missed you,” I whispered into her hair, the sheer truth of that statement alleviating some of my guilt, and her arms came around my waist. “I’m tired, and I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “I know. I do not wish to fight with you, either. You have never ignored me before.” That was about as close as Gisele would ever get to an apology, even to me. I nodded, pressing my lips to the cold, slick skin of her forehead. Unlike Alicia, I found the cold, smooth skin to be just as alluring as mortal skin, though in an entirely different way. She made a soft sound of contentment, and I picked her up into my arms, the gesture reminding me of Alicia.

  “Who is she?” Gisele asked, jealousy shortening her tone. I almost never shield my thoughts while in the Ekhaya, mostly because I didn't care what anyone here thought of me. I feel that it's my duty to allow them to know what’s going on in my head, and I know it makes them feel more at ease around me. I pride myself on the fact that all revenants know where they stand with me, whether I'm about to destroy them or applaud them.

  I smiled down at her, watching the inner fire dance within her obsidian eyes. “There’s no need to be jealous,” I offered softly, meaning it. As intriguing as Alicia was, she was only mortal, after all; she would eventually die. Not wanting to dwell on that thought, I continued speaking. “I’ll tell you all about her, if you want.” Without waiting for her answer, I moved about the maze-like corridors and made my way to my chamber.

  I lit all the torches as I stepped inside, closing the heavy wooden door behind us. I walked to the bed, a gaudy, four poster deal that had been a gift, which was the only reason I still use it. Not that I wanted it to be a coffin or anything. Though a great many revenants still Slumber in a coffin each day, out of habit or superstition or whatever, I have zero desire to be one of them. Call it a throwback to mortality, but I’m perfectly content to Slumber in a bed.

  Gently, I lowered her to the mattress, placing a light kiss on her lips before retreating to remove my clothing. The boots I tossed into the corner, and the rest I threw into a plush, crimson chair that faced my side of the bed. Gisele slipped off her garments and pulled back the comforter and top sheet, slipping underneath them with a singular grace that only a revenant or a prima ballerina can know. The sheets were slightly stained with Blood sweat from our last romantic encounter, and I silently chastised myself for not remembering to have someone change them.

  When she was settled, I climbed in beside her, and she draped herself around me, one willowy leg draped over my midsection. She tucked her head into the crook of my shoulder, her cold, delicate hand sweeping across my chest. I kissed the top of her head, my left hand idly rubbing her hair, and relayed the story of Alicia. She remained silent throughout, though I could feel her make facial expressions against my chest during certain parts, and when I was finished, she looked up at me.

  “You must be c
areful, Jason,” she warned, her voice bearing an ominous edge. I eyed her warily.

  “I know all about the dangers of getting involved with mortals, Gisele. I used to be a dangerous mortal, remember?” My voice was harsh and defensive, and I instantly regretted that. Defensiveness is typically born of guilt, and I was angry that I felt any guilt about Alicia.

  “How could I possibly forget when you will never let me!” she replied sharply, moving away from me to prop herself up on one elbow. She gave me a knowing gaze, almost condescending coming from her, and I sighed in frustration, a guttural sound coming from my throat.

  “Gisele, I won’t endanger the Ekhaya. You of all people should know that.”

  “Perhaps not intentionally, Jason, but I know how you can get,” she answered, curbing the admonition in her voice, an act that was very unlike Gisele. I sighed again, this time because she was right. She did know me.

  “I need to do this. I need...” I began, falling silent under the power of that need.

  “You need to do this for Cassia. For the absurd obligation you feel to her. Need I remind you that she is doing just fine? Everything worked out for the best. You need to cut it loose,” she pleaded, her voice soft and caring. I truly believe it hurt her to glimpse my pain, though probably more for the fact that she couldn’t erase it.

  I traced her lips with my thumb, thinking about her words. After a while, I responded, the pain so great at that moment that my voice cracked. “I can’t.”

  “Wuss,” she said lightly, a smile on her face. A deliberate and successful attempt to lighten my mood.

  “Bitch,” I growled, returning her smile. A familiar exchange between us. She raised an eyebrow at my statement.

  “Talking dirty before sex? What has come over you?” she joked, rolling on top of me. She grabbed my arms, and I allowed her to place them above my head. She dipped her head, and I could feel her lips at my neck for a moment before she bit into the flesh there, the sweet sting of her fangs clearing my troubled thoughts.