The Waif's Tale

by C. L. Stegall

  CHAPTER 65

  1988, Ghent, Age 111

  G hent?" I said, wondering why I was chosen for this rather mundane task. The magistrate only nodded.

  "Think of it as a short vacation," Cassie said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Ghent is a beautiful city. And, one of the oldest in Belgium."

  "I know it is a simple task, Paris. You are quite over-qualified for such, admittedly. Yet, I value your service and talents and Cassie could use the company. Consider it a personal favor to me." The magistrate had never once in over a hundred years asked a favor of me. I found it ridiculous to even contemplate declining.

  "Absolutely, sir." I turned to Cassie. "A little girl-time might not be a bad idea. I'll take good care of her, sir. I promise."

  "I know you will, my dear. Thank you." He turned away and I struggled to keep the concern from my face when I heard his thought permeate my brain. "Stay alert." The thought was not a request. Perhaps there was more going on than a simple meet and greet.

  "I'm all packed and my people are set to handle things while I'm gone. We will leave tomorrow evening. We have a private plane set to go." Cassie began to guide me back out of the magistrate's quarters.

  "I'll be ready at six," I replied. I gave her a brief hug and made my way back to my room, all the while wondering about the situation.

  * * * * *

  Ghent was a gorgeous city. Old World. Stereotypically European. We had arrived a day ahead of the meet, so we took the time to wander around the city center, taking in the sights. I had trouble keeping my thoughts free of distraction and Cassie caught me lost in thought more than once. I apologized, blaming it on the beauty of our surroundings.

  The following evening, just past sunset, we made our way to the Graslei. It was late summer and the weather was extraordinary. The buildings lined the waterway and people strolled along the edges and drank coffee outside the small shops. There was a feeling of warmth and freedom in the air and it eased my nervousness a little. I did, however, keep my eyes open for anything unusual.

  "I've been here once before," Cassie said, as we walked together toward the meeting place. The man we were to meet was a fellow Valensi and reportedly had some information that would serve the Hierarchy in some way. He was asking a price for the information but it was not a hefty sum. My understanding was that it was more to represent the value of the information than to set him up with riches.

  "Really?"

  "Yes. It was well over a century ago. Before you joined us, I'm sure."

  "What brought you here that time?" I asked, not sure if it was appropriate to pry. The question was innocent enough, yet she hesitated.

  "A man," she said, finally.

  "Ah."

  "Ah, indeed," Cassie replied with a wink. "He was a mistake but coming here was not. This city still holds the same charm as it did back then."

  "Well, that says a lot for the city, doesn't it?" I said. She nodded.

  As we neared the meet site, I noticed the crowd had thinned out a little. Our contact was smoking a red pipe, as indicated he would. We approached slowly but as soon as I saw the man, I relaxed. Either he had been birthed much later in his life than I would have guessed or he was the oldest Valensi I'd ever met. He looked to be in his early eighties, a little stooped at the shoulders and wrinkled as a raisin.

  "I'm Franz," he said by way of introduction, reaching out to shake our hands. We each returned the old man's handshake. "You have what I asked for?"

  "We do. And, you, sir?" Cassandra asked. Franz nodded and reached into his jacket pocket for a leather envelope, nondescript and relatively new.

  "Inside is what I spoke to Livia about. Take care that it gets into the right hands." The exchange was made. The man looked over at me. "I probably should not ask but… how old are you, child?"

  "Almost one hundred and ten. How about you, old timer?"

  He laughed like a frog croaks and it took me by surprise. "Older than you by far, my dear. but, that is a tale for another time, perhaps." He saluted us with his pipe and then turned and ambled away in the opposite direction.

  "He's a peculiar one, eh?" I said to Cassie. Silence. I turned and found that she was nowhere to be seen. I whirled about trying to see if she was in the crowd but I had lost her. Then, I heard my name being called.

  "Paris! Are you coming?" Cassie was about fifteen meters away, by the waterway, motioning for me to hurry up. I quickly made my way through the few pedestrians, catching up with her.

  "Where did you go?" I asked, as I reached her. She smiled and shook her head.

  "I was walking away when I saw that you had begun chatting with Franz. What did he say to you?" She took my arm in hers and we walked back down the cobblestone toward our hotel.

  "He just asked my age," I said. I looked back to see if he was still in sight. He was gone. I got a strange feeling that I missed something but I could not, for the life of me, figure out what it was.

  "You want to get some coffee before we head back?" Cassie asked. I turned back to her, uncertain if I was imagining things or not.

  "Sure."

  CHAPTER 66

  PRESENT

  W akey, wakey." The voice was male, higher pitched but clear and strong. I opened my eyes against the splash of cold water that had just been doused onto my face.

  My surroundings, dank and drab, were enough that I immediately realized the severity of my situation. My hands were bound with metal wire behind my back, wrapped around the concrete post to which I was hung. Something held my bound hands high enough to prevent any leverage and the same thin strong wire encircled my neck, holding my head up, as well. My feet were manacled and bound by thick chains to the concrete post. It took but a second to realize that I was going absolutely nowhere. This was a professional binding.

  It appeared I was well and truly fucked.

  "Welcome back to the land of the living, so to speak," the man said. "I'm happy to see my research proved correct and the bullet and tranqs didn't actually kill you." He looked to be in his mid-twenties, athletic build, average looks. His black hair was slicked back over his head with copious amounts of product and his dark eyes surveyed me with great interest.

  "Where am I?" I asked. I noted that I had been here for many hours, since I could feel the ferocious itching in my chest where the bullet wound was already healing up rather well. One more scar for me to mark my years on this earth. The time had also been enough that this guy had the leisure of his binding job. My mind began to work furiously on methods of possible escape.

  "Somewhere quiet, safe from the prying eyes of the world." The man moved to stand directly in front of me. He was a good head taller than I was and he stared down into my eyes with the strangest expression I had ever seen. "How old are you? Really, I mean."

  It didn't take a genius to see that this guy was a wannabe. I'd heard Garrett speak of them before. He was one of those humans who wanted nothing more than to be Valensi. Or, rather, in their limited view of things, a vampire. He was not afraid of me, although my binding spoke volumes to the contrary. I saw no reason not to be honest. For now.

  "One hundred and thirty-seven," I said.

  "You look pretty good for your age."

  "Thanks. Now, how about you tell me what the fuck I'm doing here?"

  "Oh, I would've expected you to have figured that out by now. I take it you're pretty sharp, right? Or, should I have not given you the benefit of the doubt?"

  "Wannabe. Right?"

  "Excuse me?" His eyebrow lifted for a second but then his eyes narrowed and he smiled. "Ah. Gotcha. A wannabe. Right. Good one."

  "Nailed it."

  "Yes. You did."

  "So can I ask my first question?" If there was one thing that was for certain, I wanted to draw this out as long as possible, as I worked out my plan for escape. To be perfectly honest, however, I didn't have a clue where to begin.

  "Sure," he said, dragging a stool away from the workbench along the wall. "We have all the time in the
world." He was a confident little prick. He sat on the stool and clasped his hands between his relaxed legs. As far as I could tell we were in a basement of some sort and since I had no gag there would be little hope in screaming or making any commotion. So those actions were ruled out.

  "How did you find me?" I asked.

  "The club bathroom," he said. I remembered that there were several guys waiting to get in when I left Greg the rapist splayed out in there. I'd not paid much attention to the crowd. My mistake. "My curiosity got the better of me. Still, there was just something about you that stood out. So, I followed you. I kept my distance and watched. It wasn't long before I realized what you were."

  "I take it you've met my kind before." I spoke slowly, swallowing often. The wire around my neck was tight enough to prevent any excess movement without impeding my breathing or voice. This guy had some experience in the kidnapping department.

  "Oh, sure. You're not my first."

  "I have to say that I find myself wondering what brought you to this point. I mean, I know what brought me here. but, well, call it professional curiosity. How did you learn about us?"

  "Vampires, you mean?" I nodded while pushing down my inherent disgust of that word. He cleared his throat, apparently enjoying the chance to recount the tale. "The first time was about eight years ago. I was living in outside Atlanta at the time.

  "It was late fall, cold. The leaves had already turned. I was hiking in the mountains, up by Rabun Bald. I was attacked by one of your kind one night. She was not a very good fighter but she was strong as all hell. Although I hate to admit, it was sheer luck that I managed to kick her into the long broken limb of a nearby tree. More accidental than anything else.

  "I had never heard a scream like that before. I later realized that the outcropping was long enough to enter her heart." He gave a little snort. "It was not so pretty, my first encounter with a vampire."

  "You're right," I said. "You were very lucky." I watched as he looked back up into my eyes with the edge of anger. He quickly reeled it in and simply nodded.

  "No. It's true." His eyes went to the workbench for a moment or two and then back to me. “But, luck alone can't get you what you want out of life. It takes effort. And, skill. Right?"

  "So, you honed those skills?" I could see that this guy was as far gone as they come. I was in for some serious trouble. No way around it.

  "I'd always wondered if you were real, if vampires truly existed. That night, I got my proof. What I lacked, though, was the knowledge and ability to elevate myself enough to become one, too."

  "That's not all you lacked," I said before thinking. He stared at me. I added, "You need a vampire to become a vampire."

  "Yes. Exactly." He nodded and then continued. "I read up, studied. I spent years trying to locate more of you. It wasn't easy."

  "I bet."

  "It took me a while to figure out the line between truth and fiction surrounding your kind. What I found only made me want it more. You're not the living dead, as so many of the old bullshit tales proclaim. You're alive. Hell, you're just like us... only better."

  "Well, that's debatable." I thought of that bastard, the magistrate, who even now had some assassin close on my trail. My life was a question. If I didn't die at the hands of this little wannabe, I would probably die at the hands of a Protector. Ain't life grand?

  "I haven't learned everything, but I've gotten a clue," the wannabe continued. "I know only one thing for certain. I want to be like you."

  "Oh, trust me, kid," I said, "You do not want to be like me. That is one irrefutable fact."

  "I saw what you did to that man in the field. I heard what you were saying. He was a serial killer. You killed him to see whatever he saw. Why?"

  "Because death intrigues me, kid. Because death is not the end. And the sad fact of the matter is..." My words failed and I hesitated. Did I want to say it out loud? To this asshole, of all people? I supposed it didn't really matter. I took a slow breath. "I'm scared."

  "Scared? Of what?"

  "Of dying. Same as you."

  "I don't understand," he said. "Everyone is scared of dying."

  "You more than most."

  "What makes you say that?" His eyes widened as I fought to control my laughter.

  "Look around you, kid. What the hell do you think you're doing? Why do you think you searched us out? Why am I here? You're so fucking scared of dying that you're trying desperately to put it off as long as you possibly can. I'm a means to your ends. That's all."

  The wannabe stood from the stool and moved his face only inches from mine. We stared each other down for long seconds, before he smiled. "You know what? You're probably right. So, let's see if I can push that moment off a little longer."

  I caught a glimpse of the blade just before he buried it into the side of my neck. The pulse of blood vibrated in my throat and I heard it splash onto the concrete floor before he began catching the stream in a large mug. My head pounded with every beat of my heart, with every ounce of life fluid escaping me.

  With little hesitation, the wannabe slurped down the container of my thick, warm blood, chugging it like a frat boy chugs a beer. My pulse slowed and I could feel the itching sensation as the seepage from my neck eased and the coagulation began in earnest. One of our finer traits is our incredible healing factors. It even works on humans, as displayed when I dealt with Greg, the rapist. Still, in its undiluted form, our lifeblood can have other effects, as well. As I watched the wannabe finish the blood, I waited for the inevitable result. I didn't have to wait long.

  The look on his face was priceless as his body reacted to my own bodily fluid. He turned in a rush and threw his head into a large barrel, vomiting his guts out for long minutes. I was kind of surprised at the violence and duration of his retching.

  It was difficult to keep the smile from my face.

  "I think you may have missed a step or two somewhere along the line, there, kid."

  He turned on me with murder in his eyes. Blade in hand, he stalked back to face me again, his nasty breath curling the tiny hairs in my nose. I waited for him to make his next move.

  "You are just as stubborn as the last one," he said. "I lost my temper then and blew my chance. I won't be so hasty this time around. You and I are going to have plenty of time to discuss my demands."

  "Demand all you want, kid. I'm not making your ignorant dreams come true."

  "Then, you and I are going to get to know one another very well, indeed. Because, make no mistake, I'll do whatever it takes to get what I want." He winked at me as the knife blade slid through my shirt and into my flesh, digging its way to my intestines.

  CHAPTER 67

  Six Days ago, The Citadel

  N o shit," Cairo said, just as I entered the Abode.

  "No shit, what?" I asked. Garrett had just left on assignment and I was in serious need of a drink. The team explained while I poured myself a tall Stoli.

  "Elijah is out after a Hunter," Cairo said.

  " but, that's just the tip of the iceberg," Vi commented. She was twisted around on the sofa, one arm hanging over the back, staring at Dusk. A quick glance around told me London must be off on an assignment somewhere.

  "Yes," Dusk said, apparently in response to Vi's eye contact. "He's allowed some drama to intrude on his assignment."

  "Elijah? Drama? No!" I said, swirling the ice in my drink.

  "Oh, there's more," Vi stated, turning her dark green eyes to me. Once I saw that expression, I knew I should be paying attention.

  "Do tell," I said, walking around the bar and sliding a leather barstool under my rump.

  "It appears," Dusk said, cutting off Cairo's attempt to share the news in his own reckless manner, "that Elijah found that one of his old flames is living a lie in the human populace of Charlotte."

  "The States? What is that, North Carolina, right?" I asked. I had not been to the U.S. yet and was ever so curious.

  "Yes," he said. His expression darkened and I d
ecide not to interrupt again. "Brianna Van Demir is an assistant District Attorney there and was handling the case of a man named John Sebastian Ross. He goes by J.S, I understand. Anyway, this Ross fellow was arrested for beating the hell out of some teenage boy."

  "Uh, that doesn't sound like anything that would interest us. Or, am I still missing something?" I realized I had spoken again before Dusk turned his "daddy-ain't-happy" look my way. I shrugged an apology and he continued.

  "The key here is the teenager's claims that he witnessed Ross kill a woman with a knife. The thing is that there is no body to back up that statement, even though the teen was attacked at the scene of the supposed crime."

  I derived a conclusion and realized that Ross must have killed one of the older Valensi. There are three things that can cause us to decay at a frightening rate post-demise: direct sunlight, decapitation and a stake through the hearts. Sunlight, of course, is the nastiest. Decapitation is the fastest permanent death that can be imposed upon us. That leaves the stake.

  If a large enough piece of wood is left inside of our bodies for an extended period, the chemical reaction inside of us will cause an inevitable decay. The rate of decay depends upon how old the person is – the older they are, the faster the decay. However, if a stake is shoved directly into our hearts, then the chemical reaction is as fast as it takes the blood from the wound to get to the rest of the body. If the adrenaline is pumping and the heart racing, that only speeds up the demise and decay. It can be a rather quick and clean death, to be perfectly honest. I thought briefly of how it ended with Thorne. The sting of that betrayal still wrapped itself around my heart and the thought that the bastard died all too quickly rose up like a ghost in my mind's eye. I enjoyed the thought for a second and then shook it off.

  "So, I take it we are assuming this Ross character killed the woman, a Valensi, with a wooden knife of some sort?" I asked.

  "Yes," Dawn confirmed. “But, there is still more to it."