by John Falin
Her last words are frightening, but my emotions are so raw with sensitivity that I dip my head to hide the embarrassment. Bryn lightly touches my hair and says to me, “Adriel, you have every right to mourn her death. Even though you did not know her, the void of who she was has been filled and emptied.”
I strain my neck upward and meet Percy’s eyes in shared sorrow. “Years ago when I left home and went to New Orleans, I used to spend the evenings walking through the Garden District and unofficially touring old southern mansions. I loved the architecture and aged beauty of a city that clung to its past. One evening, I recall the half moon was brighter than it should have been and street lights dampened in competition. You’ve been in the cities at night; most people think they are noisy and buzzing with activity, but in reality they are still only pierced by occasional sirens or gun fire.
“It was that type of evening that I experienced my first real taste of unrestrained violence and its result. Two young guys, older than me then and much larger, cornered me on a side street, demanding my wallet and shoes. Looking back, I was stupid not to comply, but I was stubborn and young so I refused. They threatened me and pulled a knife. I remember thinking they wouldn’t use it because that would never actually happen in real life. I was surprised when he slashed at me. I reactively raised my left hand to shield my face and as I pulled it away, felt the blood pumping out where the knuckle of my index finger once was. It was a clean slice that left my finger dangling with only several threads of blood vessels and skin that refused to let go. Months later, I still felt the top section of my finger throb with pain, even though the bone was still disconnected. That’s how I feel about her. All these years I knew I was there was a part of me that was detached. I knew because it hurt. Now, after a restless search, I find you and my mother, only to have her cut off from me permanently.” An appreciative silence lingers for a while.
Percy waits for me, then says, “We don’t have parents or family who would sacrifice so much. In many ways I envy you. Be thankful for the memories, for the richness that they give.” She breaks for transition. “Adriel, I recall you saying that you were sixteen when you left home?”
“Yeah, so what?”
Her eyes shut searching for archived memories and I see her nostrils flare, inhaling to confirm the data. “I was there that night. It was bloody, as I found two fresh carcasses with their heads crushed into the cement and brain matter splashed all over the curb. Yet that seductive scent had no effect on me due to a trail of blood that overwhelmed my senses. It was gravity, pulling and stretching me until I caught myself with heavy breath snapping out of a trance. It was the same blood I smelled on you a month ago and this evening. I noticed four of their friends running down the street, looking for the person who killed their buddies. They must have witnessed the struggle from afar and were going to teach you a lesson, one that would have ended your life. I observed this from the roof adjacent to the assault when an incredibly strong feeling came over me. It was an undeniable urge: primal and vicious. I was under its spell and lusted for their blood. I dropped from the roof and butchered all four men with utter brutality, as if they had done something to deserve such a gruesome death. I recall wondering why I was so careless, why I would have killed four when I could have simply drank from one.”
Bryn sits back and scratches his chin thoughtfully. “I think this bond is more powerful than we imagined. Adriel, may I see your left hand?” Without question I place my hand in his. “Did you have your finger surgically reattached?”
“No, I never went back. Hell, I didn’t even go to the emergency room. I was scared that my blood and fingerprints would be all over the murder scene and that the police would lock me away for a very long time. In fact, well, this didn’t seem strange at the time, but now…”
“Go on,” he eagerly commands.
“I stopped at the local 24-hour pharmacy and picked up some gauze, peroxide, and what not. I remember the cashier being both concerned and pissed that the floor was slick with blood. I crawled into bed that night with a burning fever and didn’t wake up for three days, except for the occasional delusion here and there. When I awoke, my finger was healing, still nasty, but the skin was connected. I bought a splint and it took about a year for the bone to actually reattach. I guessed that it was possible because other animals heal and fingers are saved often. Thankfully, it was my left hand.” I smile at the joke.
“This will take more thought, but you are definitely not wholly one of us.”
“What?” I demand.
“Your finger reattached without surgery, without assistance. It regenerated while you were only sixteen years of age.”
Percy lets out a gasp. “How is that possible? He experienced the Resurrectio only a month ago?”
Bryn returns the volley. “I hesitate to speculate this early, but I think that young Adriel has never experienced the Resurrectio and never will.”
“Spit it out, Bryn,” I say.
“Vampire children are human in nearly every way; they do not heal as quickly or as dramatically as they do after the Resurrectio or run hot, as they now say. Yet, you were regenerating digits at sixteen, and you successfully defended yourself against two larger, older opponents, who had weapons, with lethal force. Percy says that you were somewhat immune to the elements the night you were reacquainted and now you are more than that. It seems with every perceived life-threatening situation your body reacts by transforming you more into what you were born to be. You were raised in an environment that was sanitized and controlled. You had no need of your inherent capabilities. In other words, they lay dormant from lack of need.”
Percy steps on my question with one of her own. “Are you seriously hypothesizing that he was born as what he is without need of the Resurrectio?”
“Yes, and that he has not experienced the total transformation. The process is not complete!”
Rarely am I a loss for words, but on this particular occasion I sit with mouth agape. I regain whatever thread of self-respect is left and say, “I’m really not interested in redoing puberty.” A spark of laughter ignites in Bryn and even Percy joins for a moment as stress drains to tolerant levels. The thumping vibration of the music is getting stronger as the DJ sways back and forth in time and I am lost in the picture.
“Adriel,” Percy says, “we do not have much time. Do you have your questions answered?”
I crawl through the haze of daydreaming back to the conversation. “Thanks, Percy. How did Cassius end up with the sword?”
“I knew the scientist’s arrival was imminent, so I was able to mourn her loss for mere seconds. I picked you up with care as you were sleeping. The sword was still swirling with a lightning-blue current in the pattern embedded on the blade. Your mother mentioned the sword’s role in your future, so even with one hand carrying you, I reached for it, only to be shocked. I threw the sword with shards of electricity splintering off and disappearing in the air. I made a quick decision to leave it. In hindsight, I should have wrapped it in a cloth, but I still don’t think I could have escaped with both hands occupied.
“I vanished, unscathed and unknown, into the night. At 4:00 a.m., Quilici and I met at a rendezvous point near downtown Atlanta in the Five Points district. It was there, in a local restaurant, that I gave you to him and that was all I knew until a month ago.” Percy rested and realized that she had inched her way to the edge of the chair, leaning forward with excitement. She indiscreetly wiped the dampness from her hands on her leather pants and straightened her posture, ready to receive questions.
“So, that’s it. My life began in a science lab and a restaurant… That explains a lot.” I say it sardonically. “You mentioned earlier that both of you were under the impression that the sword was the Vinculum. Can you explain that part to me?”
She says, “When your mother looked at the sword and said the word, I assumed it was a name. The sword has otherworldly qualities and absorbed both of your energies. I thought perhaps it was
some bond to your people, to the ‘others,’ or to your mother. Please remember that up until a month ago, I had no idea that you survived or where you were. Yet, since our re-acquaintance I have felt the same pull, the aches, and the desires you have. It increases with proximity and compounds with each experience. I intellectually understood what she said concerning us belonging to each other, but I did not really understand it until we met again.”
“What are you saying, Percy?”
Bryn interjects. “The sword is not The Bonded, Adriel.” His eyes dart back and forth to both of us. “You are!”
I don’t know why I am thrown off. In my heart I knew it to be true, but my breath escapes me and I find myself gasping for air. The demon stirs, gnawing instead of pounding his way to the surface, and I stall half a minute to regain a little composure. I distantly respond, “We are bonded? I mean, I knew something between us was happening. I knew it was more than puppy love, but an actual bond?” I emotionally retreat and they allow me the space and time to return. “Okay, we have a tether. It is growing and none of us knows what will result from it?”
Bryn smiles. “Ahh, love, isn’t it grand?” He ends with a chuckle of irritating delight.
Percy responds before I can. “Funny, Bryn. It seems as your powers increase, so does our bond. I have a feeling we will have our questions answered sooner than you think.”
I rotate my neck around with cracks and pops to release stress and decide to change the subject. “Let’s look at this critically. The sword and bond are two entirely different issues. The sword is somehow important enough to Cassius that he kept it as his own for nearly four decades and important enough that the waers retrieved it, stating they would return it to ‘its rightful owner.’ It has a current of electricity that flows through the tribal tattoos when ignited by either my birth mother or me. How did Cassius explain the arrival of a sword that was not built for him in a culture that places so much emphasis on the construction of a personal sword?”
Percy respectfully waits for Bryn to answer. “Cassius left that evening when the news arrived of the infiltration at Dahlonega and returned two days later with the sword, claiming that it was the sword of his ancestors. He said he had come across it after a 1,000-year quest derived from an ancient text long forgotten, which described an unbreakable sword that was a symbol of ultimate authority. He claimed that only the king of the tribes could yield its power.
“We did have the opportunity to test its strength and could never succeed in blemishing or scratching the surface. Of course, all these tests were accomplished with his direct supervision and one special rule: Cassius was the only one who could touch the sword. The text was conveniently lost again, and no vampire investigated, as that surely would have been a death wish. As time passed and small skirmishes were fought, we found the sword impressive, with a blade like a razor that never needed sharpening. Everyone assumed that the sharp blade coupled with its strange imperviousness was the power he spoke of. No one suspected what Percy and I knew, that the true power, or what little we know of it, was beyond his abilities.”
“Is Quilici the only waer in this little espionage group?”
Percy answers, “Yes. No one can know. We have not discovered Cassius’s true objective and until we do, this must remain our burden to carry.”
The bodyguard interrupts us once more. “Sir, they’re here!”
Bryn looks in my direction and says, “It is time. You must move on, as this game of ours has become more dangerous and more fun.” He ends with a smirk.
I say in retaliation, “I still have a question that needs answering.”
“Hurry, Adriel, what is it?”
“What was my mother?”
He doesn’t stop moving to answer. “I am afraid that your question is too complicated for a response now. You must go to Quilici and quickly. Percy, you know where the place is. Travel there tomorrow evening directly after the break of dawn, before the pack arrives, and he will provide you with more of what you seek.” As Bryn is talking, his hand snakes into his tight-fitting right pants pocket and I hear the jingle of keys precede a slight click from a car remote. Yet, instead of a distant car door announcing its availability, the ceiling quietly slides across, creating an opening large enough for one person. The ceiling is about ten above with no access. Above the ceiling, by another ten feet, I can see a trap door that leads to the roof with an iron mini-ladder beyond reach and immediately below it. He says, “It’s my private escape. No human can reach it, but with a well-tuned jump of twenty feet, you can latch on to the ladder and open the hatch. From there, you are on your own.”
Percy looks on with mild surprise. “What will you do? They will catch our scent and know we have been here with you.”
He smiles. “Why, Percy, I had no idea you were so concerned for me.” She frowns and lets a small grunt out. “I will be fine. Remember, I’m independent and attached to no tribe. They will suspect, but it is of vital importance that I remain neutral for as long as possible.”
The bodyguard interjects. “They are walking this way, sir. What do you want us to do?”
Bryn stalls momentarily and grins. “Tell the DJ it is time for the ‘anthem.’” I take a peek through the one-way mirror and see the two vamps shoving their way through the crowd with a focus never leaving their target. Then, in a shark-feeding frenzy, men start running in mass to the dance floor as the vamps become wedged in a stampede.
I pull myself from the stare and look quizzically at Bryn. He replies to my unasked question by pushing the second hidden button on the chair as the speaker system rumbles to life. I find my answer as I hear screams and roars in melody with “It’s Raining Men.” I laugh, shake my head, and make an effortless, vertical jump onto the ladder. As I peer down, the ceiling silently closes with another chapter in my life.
Seconds later, I find myself soaking in the myriad of sounds and smells climbing from the streets below. I’m grateful for the open air and stretch with affection as Percy formulates the plan. She breaks the silence. “You seem awfully relaxed for someone who is being hunted by vampires.”
I shake off the stress as a dog shakes off water and reply, “Hunted? Do you really think Cassius will kill me or you?”
She ponders, then says, “No, not yet, but there are worse things than death, Adriel. You need to feed and we need to leave this place before they catch up. Their names are Abram and Isabel. They are old, trained trackers, and very battle savvy. Cassius fears that we will discover the truth and is taking appropriate measures to contain us.” As the last word trails from her soft lips, she glides down onto Connecticut Avenue and sprints for the escape. Damn!
I jump to follow and feel a pressure from the wind push me in her direction. I smile at the ease of it all and land in a full run, passing her with childish pride. Yet, even as the speed comes naturally, I hear the rumblings of hunger pangs siphoning my reserves. I need to feed soon or the trackers will surely have us. I slow the pace to a casual walk and turn to face her. “Percy, I don’t want to run. The hunger is beginning to assert itself. I need to feed, and the truth is, I won’t allow Cassius the pleasure of thinking we fear him.”
“You are willful, but I understand. Are you prepared to make this decision? Once it is made, it cannot be undone.”
“There is no decision; the choices have been stolen from us. If we run, we can’t return, as he already is aware of our betrayal. At least if we choose to fight, we send a message.”
Percy thinks and smiles. “We make our stand here.” She begins to case the surroundings as we stop on yet another narrow street, but there are too many humans on their party quests scampering through the sidewalks. “Follow me to higher ground.” Great, back to the roof. We jump in unison, landing on a renovated metal roof that responds with a muffled thud as our shoes touch with gentleness. “Adriel, they are skilled and you will need to utilize tactics, not brawn. Although your strength has increased, you are not on their level. I recommend playing to y
our gifts, like speed and that sarcasm of yours, to unravel their focus.”
“I was beginning to wonder if you appreciated my finer qualities,” I say sardonically.
She smiles. “I appreciate that it can work to our advantage, as Abram is prideful and Isabel has a temper issue. For some reason, your blood is tainted to us, but we can drink from vampires and waers. There will be only one each, and with your burn, that will not be enough to sate your hunger. So you will have to exercise incredible willpower after it is done so you don’t create a killing field below. Once the cycle of feeding begins, it will not dissipate until the need is met.” She inhales and says, “They are here.”
Within a second, I feel the air vibrate from a disturbance as Abram and Isabel pummel through it, crashing down with angry booms and fixed eyes. He is the shorter and thinner with a shaved head and crooked teeth that look out of place in this century. He’s old. She is a muscular athlete trained for combat, sporting a face that reminds me of German weightlifters and a shaved head to match. Both of them wear matching military camo with combat boots for added effect. I guess Isabel is the special-ops leader as she speaks with command. “Good evening, Percy. Cassius would like to visit with both of you this evening and asked us to make certain you made the appointment.”
They address Percy as if I am too young or no threat. Either way, it pisses me off. So, I decide that I will respond. “First, I’d like to say how impressed I am that two older vampires like yourselves have been able to keep up with the fashion industry. We all know that dickheads in camo is the new black this year.” He places his hand on her shoulder for mild restraint. I don’t miss a beat. “Thank you, Abram. I was starting to get nervous,” I say, dripping with antagonized sarcasm. “Secondly, you can tell your master that Percy and I will have to decline the invitation due to a conflict in our schedule.” I’m hoping the contemporary humor isn’t lost when I hear her heart quicken with offense. I inwardly smile and peripherally sense that Percy is pleased as well.
