The Waif's Tale

by C. L. Stegall

"It's a done deal," Dusk was saying as I entered the room. The entire High Guard was there, sitting on chairs and the couch while Dusk paced back and forth by the bar. "Frost has set his fate. The Hierarchy is meeting as we speak."

  "Who's Frost?" I asked, as I made my way around the bar and retrieved a bottle of Sobieski Red Label. I struggled to open it with one hand, then poured a tumbler full of the little water and slugged it back, all the while noticing that everyone was watching me but saying nothing. "Hello?" I said, as I poured myself another and put the bottle away. "Cat got your tongue?"

  "Umm, Edward Frost. He was arrested yesterday. Elijah brought him in." London's gaze never left me but I refused to meet her eyes, observing my surroundings through peripheral vision only.

  "It seems your errand to St. Gallen has resulted in uncovering a traitor in our midst," Dusk stated. He hesitated and then added, "I'm sorry, by the way." I just shrugged.

  "Paris..." Dawn began. I caught her eye and her expression. It told me that she might know where I was, emotionally, for whatever reason. Still, she closed her mouth and turned her attention back to her brother.

  "You want some ice with that?" Cairo asked, indicating my tall glass of vodka. My eyes went from the vodka back to him just in time to see him wink and smile at me. Well, at least one person was treating me with less than kid gloves.

  "I'm good," I said, leaving the meaning open to greater interpretation. "So, this Frost guy, what'd he do?"

  "The evidence you brought back from St. Gallen tied him to a conspiracy to expose the Valensi to the world at large. Apparently the idiot thought that he could build a bridge of understanding between our peoples." Dusk watched me as if I were a microbe under a microscope. I ignored it.

  "Right," I replied, sliding my ass onto one of the bar stools. "And, the fact that they serve as our sustenance would in no way detract from such planned détente."

  London snickered at my droll response, whereas Cairo and Vi laughed out loud. Dawn and Dusk exchanged meaningful looks but maintained their decorum.

  "That is one way to look at it," Dusk commented. I lifted an eyebrow and took another swig of my drink.

  "The Hierarchy is meeting to discuss his sentencing," Dawn said. Her eyes met mine only briefly before returning to Dusk.

  "The Tribunal will most likely take place tomorrow night." Dusk walked over and looked me straight in the eye. "You good?"

  I could hear the heartfelt concern in his tone and for that I shooed away my own sarcasm for the moment. "I'm good. Thanks." I nodded slightly and he let it go, moving toward the exit.

  "Be prepared for the likelihood that we will be called into appearance tomorrow. Understood?" He was gone.

  "So dramatic," I said of Dusk's exit. "I love it when he does that." I finished my drink and caught Dawn looking at me. I met her gaze for a moment then submitted to her by lowering mine.

  CHAPTER 47

  1935, The Citadel, Age 58

  I was ready when I heard the knock at my door. It had taken London a little longer than I had expected before she came to me. My presence in the Abode earlier was enough for her to take her chances with me, now.

  "Enter," I called out. I was sitting up against the headboard of my bed, The Good Earth propped against my knees for ease of reading. London made her way in slower than her usual whirlwind appearances. She closed the door, never looking away from me. "Is there something I can do for you, my friend?" I said.

  "Yes," she replied. "You can open up. Let me help."

  "Sweetie, there is nothing you can do for me and you know that."

  "You can talk to me, confide in me. Maybe it'll do you some good." For a moment, watching her expression, I thought she might tear up. I shook my head.

  "It is what it is, Sarah," I said, calling her by her birth name. "I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. but, I just need time. That's all."

  "Damn it, Paris! That man broke your heart and tried to fucking kill you," she said, louder than I was prepared for. "How can you not be a total wreck right now?"

  "Who says I'm not?" I put the novel aside and dropped my legs over the side of the bed, facing away from her prying, caramel eyes. "Who says I'm not broken? Completely broken and unable to think straight?"

  For fifty years I had built this wall around my emotions. It was there for a reason. Thorne had managed to put some cracks in it, but I would be damned if I'd allow him to tear it down completely. I was better than that and I would show it to the world. For London, though, I knew that my wall was one of the more frustrating things she'd ever encountered. She had even told me so on one occasion, years ago. I would not be so stubborn as to deny that I was fucked up. but, I would also not allow my own inner turmoil to ruin the reputation as a cast iron bitch that I had worked so hard to build for the past fifty years. I stared into London's eyes and revealed the truth of what was going on inside of me, as any true friend would.

  "Who says I am fit to go on sharing this world in the shape I'm in? Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm lost in the consideration that I am unworthy of even a traitor's love and affection. Perhaps I'm less than deserving of anyone's love. How can I possibly go on with that notion flitting around inside my brain like a drunken butterfly?"

  "Paris," she said, coming around to sit beside me, her arm encircling my shoulders. "Please don't talk like that. Thorne is not worth a second thought from someone of your caliber. He was lost well before he met you, I'm certain of it. His lack of loyalty to anyone, even his own people—who, I might add, he had sworn to protect with his own life—only goes to show that you are far and away a better person and more worthy soul than he."

  I turned to her, our faces only inches apart. London was such a beautiful girl. Her almond eyes and sand-colored skin were flawless, her jet-black hair long and straight and as shiny as polished ebony. Yet, her outer shell, beautiful as it was, could not hold a candle to the gorgeous soul that inhabited it. She could be as cold and calculating as anyone I had ever met. Yet, in the end, she was simply one of the nicest people I had ever known.

  I had grown to treasure London's friendship, yet had never said as much. Such ties, as had been proven so recently, could only lead to further heartache and pain. At this moment, though, I could not care less. I threw my arms around her and hugged her for all of those myriad moments throughout our lives where she had been my sounding board, my confidante, my friend. I let it go. I broke down and let the moment be. My sobs were lost in the comfort of her embrace.

  CHAPTER 48

  1935, The Citadel, Age 58

  I hereby call this Tribunal to order!" The magistrate's booming baritone echoed from every corner of the Audience Room. A great many were in attendance including, of course, the entirety of the Hierarchy and the High Guard, decked out in our presentation finest. As quiet stilled the room, the magistrate cleared his throat and slammed the polished wooden gavel down on the edge of the podium before which he stood. As the elected leader of the Valensi, it was his duty to preside—and lay down sentencing—during each and every Tribunal.

  At the sound of the gavel, the doors to the side of the Audience Room opened and the two Protectors, Elijah and Garrett, entered with a wire-cuffed Edward Frost shuffling between them. Frost had two thick ankle cuffs encircling each leg, a massive but short length of chain tying them together. His steps were but an inch or two at a time.

  There were murmurs rising and falling in pitch as the accused was led to stand before the magistrate. Once in place, the two Protectors took only one step back and waited.

  "Edward Frost," the magistrate began, his voice clear, his words enunciated even through his sometimes-predominant Spanish accent. "You have been charged by this Tribunal with the crimes of Sedition and Attempted Murder."

  "Murder?" Frost asked, his tone one of surprise. Obviously, he was not as shocked by the charge of Sedition.

  "Yes. It has been noted and proven that, in your efforts to destroy key evidence, you brainwashed and sent a former Protector of the Valensi — t
he one known as Thorne — to kill the member of the High Guard who was transporting said evidence."

  At the magistrate's words, I felt far too many eyes upon me. I kept my calm, falling into my breathing techniques to relax my nerves. From the corner of my eye, I could see Frost's head swivel to look at me. I refused to acknowledge him.

  "You bastard," Frost said, facing back to the magistrate. "I only wanted to share this world between our peoples, us and the humans. You only want to destroy it all."

  I found I could not resist myself and I let my thoughts flow into Frost's mind. I wasn't sure why I was doing it, there was no valid reason I should be intruding into the mind of a traitor. Still, something about his vehemence and the indelible faith that Thorne must have had in this man, whether it was through some sort of brainwashing or simple coinciding of beliefs, made me want to know.

  Frost's mind was abuzz with thoughts of hatred for the Hierarchy and the magistrate, in particular, so I allowed that mélange of emotion to ease my passage into his thoughts. I caught but a glimpse of something to do with Valensi in the sun, shaking hands with what looked to be the current Prime Minister of England, when the gates came crashing down.

  Someone or something had clamped down on Frost's mind. I remained stone-faced, yet out of the corner of my eye I could see a pained expression flit across the older man's face and his eyes swept the dais for any sign of who might have entered his head unbidden. I closed my mind without hesitation, blanking my thoughts, relaxing into my breathing techniques once again.

  "You can't do this," he yelled out. "I was doing what is right. I could have prevented it. You will destroy us all—"

  Frost's words were cut off by a swift punch to the back of the neck by Elijah. It was lightning fast and Frost rocked from the blow yet remained standing. Within mere moments, he stood quiet, head hung in resignation.

  "Edward Frost, as witnessed here, today, you have been charged with Sedition – treason against your own people – and attempted murder. Your crimes are reprehensible and without remorse. For your crimes against the Valensi, you are hereby sentenced to Death by Chaining."

  The crowd erupted in a multitudinous ruckus of quickly taken breaths, murmurs and chatter. I could understand the commotion. The last Chaining had been, I believed, before I had even come to the Citadel. I risked a quick glance at Frost. He had not reacted whatsoever to the sentencing. I assumed he had known that this would be his fate.

  Chaining is the worst possible sentence one could receive in the Valensi. It is the final death, the worst death sentence imaginable. Outside the Citadel, in the center of a glade surrounded by a hundred acres of protected Valensi property was a magnificent old yew tree. Like the hanging trees in the Old West of the United States, the Chaining Tree, as it was called, carried the same sense of dread.

  Criminals who commit the most atrocious, unforgivable crimes are bound against the Chaining Tree just before dawn. There they wait, facing their slow and terrible demise. Since the Valensi are basically allergic to ultraviolet light, being held there in the morning, facing the east and the rising sun, they are committed to the most painful of deaths.

  The time it takes the condemned to die varies based upon age and previous exposure to the sun. If the person is young, having spent early years in the outdoors, death could be as long as a couple of hours in coming. If they are older, not having had much exposure over centuries, for example – such as Edward Frost – death would be upon them within minutes.

  The gavel came down hard, twice. The magistrate nodded to the two guarding Protectors who, then, escorted Frost from the room. The members of the Hierarchy stood and exited through the side door at the back of the dais, followed by the magistrate and the High Guard.

  I saw Frost and the Protectors a little way down the hall as I exited the Audience Room. Garrett caught my eye and gave a concerned nod. I returned the sentiment and escorted the magistrate to his quarters, along with the rest of the Guard. He paused at his door and faced us all: Dusk, Dawn, Vienna, London, Cairo and I.

  "We must take care," he stated, his expression a blank mask. "It appears we are entering dangerous times. I can only hope that such traitorous activities have been ended with Frost. Neertheless, we cannot lose our focus. Vigilance is of the utmost importance, yes?"

  "Yes, sir," we all said in unison.

  "If only for propriety's sake, sir," Dusk said, "Dawn and I will station ourselves here until the sentence is to be carried out." The magistrate nodded and then disappeared into his quarters. Dusk turned to the rest of us.

  "I will expect everyone to be at the ready in the Abode until we move the condemned in the morning." We all nodded in agreement. "Let's hope this is the last time we must attend such drastic measures."

  In his words, I sensed the weight of that hope.

  CHAPTER 49

  1935, The Citadel, Age 58

  W e were gathered by the northern entrance to the Citadel, silence blanketing all in attendance. Even Frost stood, lips unmoving, staring at the outside world, lost in his final moments. At ten minutes until six, the two Protectors, Elijah and Garrett, led Frost to the Chaining Tree, some hundred meters from the entrance.

  In the eastern distance, I noted the fading false dawn. Frost would not have much time to further ponder his crimes against the people before the sun rose and he faced his fate. I watched with interest, as this was the first such sentencing I'd experienced.

  Do you doubt his guilt or that he deserves this fate? The magistrate's words were clear in my mind, as I had not made any effort to protect my thoughts.

  I do not, I thought in response. When was the last incident that required such dire measures, sir?

  It was the same year you became one of us, actually. One of our people lost his intellect. His age had driven him to his end, I'm afraid. Paris, do you remember the killings in White Chapel? I noted his continued lack of 'young' when addressing me. Then, what he said struck a chord.

  Do you mean that one of our own was Jack the Ripper? This bit of information took me aback. The murderer of eleven women had reportedly never been found. Here I was learning the truth.

  Yes, I'm afraid so. Once we learned of it—far too late I might add—we handled the situation. The man was unable and unwilling to be saved and, albeit somewhat less than agreed upon, the Hierarchy deemed him an example to be made. He caught my eye for a brief moment and then turned back to the chaining of Frost. This brings us to this man. We cannot allow ourselves to be discovered by the humans. Not yet. Perhaps never. What the future holds is forever uncertain, yet it is clear at this point that we could not protect ourselves should the humans decide to try and obliterate us. We hide for our safety and that safety must remain inviolate.

  Agreed, I thought. And with that our minds went silent as the Protectors returned to the Citadel. Frost was now chained to the yew tree, facing eastward. I knew, from Vi, that the man was close to two thousand years old and had been birthed into the Valensi at a very young age. Once the sun struck his skin, he would have only minutes of horrific pain before it was all over. The attendees – the Hierarchy, the two Protectors, the High Guard and the magistrate – all waited until the last minute before closing the doors, thereby sealing off the screams that would soon follow. Tonight, someone would be assigned to visit the tree, retrieve the chains and verify the condemned's passing.

  As the crowd dispersed, Garrett shuffled up beside me and asked if I would like to share breakfast. I nodded and we headed to one of the four Citadel cafeterias. Sitting down after selecting our food, I managed to not look him in the eye. He kept his commentary light and limited, giving me the time I needed. Finally, I gave in. I kept my wall up regardless.

  "I've had a bad week, my friend," I said, as I began to chew on thick pieces of bacon and slug back my orange juice. My appetite had not suffered, that was for certain.

  "I know," he replied.

  "It seems impossible to know who to trust these days."

  "Only ti
me will tell." He winked at me. I appreciated how light he was keeping the conversation.

  "Time is of little consequence," I said. "Hell, I was with Thorne for years. Years, Garrett," I reiterated. "And, apparently I did not know him at all."

  "People change, Paris. Perhaps the man you knew simply changed. Maybe he was brainwashed," he said. I smirked at him. "It's rare but it happens." He cut up his fried egg and shoved it in his mouth, bobbing his head side to side as he enjoyed his breakfast.

  "I've known you for fifty years, Garrett. You have not changed one iota in all of that time."

  "What's your point? Are you saying I'm boring?"

  I couldn't help but smile. The bastard had a way of doing that. "No, certainly not. I'm just saying that your point may not be valid."

  "My point is that people change, Paris. I'm sorry that you've had to discover this in the most terrible manner possible. but, there you have it."

  Again, he had cut right to the chase.

  "People change. Fine. Still, how could I have not noticed the change in Thorne? I was sleeping with the man, for God's sake."

  "Just sleeping?"

  "You know what I mean."

  "Oh, I do. but do you know what I mean?" He locked eyes with me and I realized I was missing something.

  "Obviously not," I said.

  "Just because you were bumping like bunnies doesn't mean you actually knew each other. Did you ever just have a conversation? Did you ever talk about anything other than the cursory subject of the day?"

  I thought back over the last few years. Thorne and I spent most of our time canoodling, not talking. I had to admit that I'd never even asked him where he was born. My face flushed at the realization that I had made no effort whatsoever in truly understanding the man with whom I had been having sex for years.

  "Don't be ashamed, Paris," Garrett said. I knew he had noticed my blushing cheeks. "People have needs. Your needs were met, at least the needs of the moment. Someday you will find deeper needs that require attention. There will come a time when you find the one who meets those needs. Only then will you have come to truly know yourself."