by John Falin
My own personal current is surging through me, looking for a weakness or opening to escape. I feel its ambition and attempt to maintain a semblance of control, though I am certainly beyond it. As the generators roar into life, electric bolts jump into me from unused electrical receptacles and my inner reservoir draws them in to feed and grow. My blood is hyper-charged, racing and building. The power presses me from the inside out until it is stifled from lack of space. The pressure is becoming too much to contain, so I look to my new enemies for respite and find the entire room, friend and foe, in a openmouthed stare—directed at me. In that moment, I notice blue arcs of electricity sizzling and humming from speakers, lights, and whatever else is charged, reaching into me. My teeth chatter with lightning and my clothes smoke with heat. Thin lines of blue appear, then disappear, burning their image into our retinas, and we all blink in unison, readjusting our vision. Caedmon, in prideful rebellion, refuses to let go, snaking his python arms around me with more strength as my ribs crack to accommodate him. The pain is sharp, demanding a primal and wild reaction. Without a thought, I release the pent-up energy in a cry of relief.
The humming of current is so loud my ears fall deaf. I watch as silent screams, warning Caedmon to let go, are received as empty and useless. His arms suddenly spasm with pulsating shocks as the energy breaks through my skin, surrounding me and giving Caedmon a free lesson of the importance of grounding wires. In a flash, he flies to the nearest wall, cracking wood with his thick head, and lays dazed from the shock. I guess the waers find me yesterday’s news as they scurry in mild panic to stomp out small fires that are quickly maturing due to stray bolts of lightning, which run hotter than the sun.
I’m grateful for the release, but the energy still circulates wildly. Caedmon wearily stands in an effort to ascertain this new development. His hands cover his ears to shield them from some noise that I’m not privy to, when I notice the sting of tears pooled in my eyes and an earsplitting scream fleeing my mouth. The situation is lost and I’m baking from the inside out when Percy launches from the corner and tackles me. We roll and tumble off the stage, crashing through tables and chairs to stop near the back.
With a sigh of relief, I crumple, exhausted from the strain as the energy somehow drains from me. It leaves me with no will nor strength to fight, let alone walk out of here, so she places her gentle hand on my chest, comforting me, and turns to the chaos as waers evacuate to escape the raging inferno. Caedmon gives us a death look and shifts his gaze toward Quilici, finding Nora and Reuben thrown to the side as he stands with tempered wrath on his mind. Nora and Reuben right themselves before landing and look to Caedmon for direction as charred wooden rafters fall, giving in to the flames. This creates another desperately needed distraction, and Quilici doesn’t hesitate to utilize the gift to his advantage, running through the flames as they lick his arms and singe his body hair. He arrives with no greeting, lifting me with a single hand and tossing me over his right shoulder as he turns to Caedmon for one final look.
The room is nearly empty as Quilici says, “You will pay for this with your life, Caedmon!” He shifts his focus to Nora and Reuben, finishing. “And if I discover your involvement, you will share his fate!” With a solid wall of fire trenched to separate us from them, Quilici kicks down the door and it explodes from the power, giving us safe passage through the rear entrance. As we leave, I can hear the bellowed howls roll and echo through the dead streets of Frederick proper.
Chapter 11
In phases I hear familiar sounds of fire trucks, a car engine revving to life, short pieces of dialogue, and then the world starts to make sense again as lucidity crawls into my mind. I struggle to sit up, my body depleted of all its precious reserves. I fall back to the leather seat, bumping my head on the door on the way down. My vision is now sharp as Percy peaks her head out from the front passenger seat and says, “He is awake.”
I respond by walking my fingers up the back of her chair and clawing the headrest, pulling myself into an upright position. As I sit up, a tiny self-congratulatory smile escapes and I lie back into the bench seat, pleased with my effort. I say, “You sure know how to make a guest feel welcome, Quilici.”
That remark gets a well-deserved giggle from Percy as she is now used to it, but is not received well by him. I can’t win them all.
He ignores the remark. “You will have to forgive my lack of humor this evening, Adriel. I was not prepared to reveal what has been kept secret for so long, and because of it, I have lost more than you could possibly imagine. Please know that I do not blame you or Percy, as she has informed me of your situation last evening.” Percy turns her head in embarrassment as if she betrayed me by giving away what was personal.
I feel the guilt emanate from her and want her freed from it, so I say, “Percy, you did the right thing. He has to know and there must be honesty and transparency between all of us if we are going to make it through this alive.” I emphasize “all” and eyeball Quilici for good measure.
She lifts her head with a silent thank-you-for-understanding look and he continues. “We are almost there.” Quilici points out the window with his head and I follow his lead as the rain pelts the SUV with soft drops of water, rather than the stinging, smaller version that seems to be more popular here. The waves smoothly slide down the window, distorting my view, but through it, I see the trees with their new buds waiting for spring to arrive. Although the position is different, I recognize the area. Quilici must have a home on Braddock Mountain, overlooking the valley where a quaint upscale town nestles between this range and another. He promptly turns left into a steeply descending gravel driveway, crunching his way down a winding trail for half a mile until we arrive at his house.
This area was once the summer home spot for Frederick’s wealthy with a tram system connecting the two, but with the dawn of affordable automobiles, some of them decided to make it their full-time living quarters. Through the years, the old homes simply remained and were renovated to accommodate the fluctuating trends of culture and the technological advances as well. Now it has old-world charm with the modern conveniences, and most importantly, a view worth killing for. I let the last thought linger and wonder if that is indeed how Quilici managed to acquire this beautiful residence.
The SUV comes to a halt and I hear the whiz of seatbelts returning to their compartments and doors unlocking automatically, giving a strong hint that the ride is over and I should get out. I’m still lethargic from earlier, but manage to ease my way through the door and walk to the cobblestoned path that meanders to the front door. The door is appropriately large with dark-stained wood and brass doorknobs that are aged from years of neglect, but somehow fit into the contemporary décor. Quilici fumbles for his keys with his enormous hands and claws, eventually unlocking the door and walking through without having to duck. Bright ambient lighting and soothing brown and yellow colors greet us, accompanied by leather furniture that exudes masculinity, yet nothing too aggressive, which would have contrasted too harshly with the classical music lightly filling the room with serene melodies.
It’s an awkward juxtaposition—having the previous pack leader of the waers bloodied and burned in the kitchen brewing a fresh cup of dark-roasted coffee with Dvorak in the background. I listlessly nose my way into the living room to discover gigantic floor-to-ceiling windows that literally stretch wall to wall with a panoramic view that extends for miles. I approach the window and see that it drops straight down; we are perched on the side of the mountain. As Quilici strolls in, I hear a shower spurt several times and then stream from a bathroom forty feet northwest of my position. It must be the guest bathroom, and Percy must be taking advantage of this safe moment, and I fight the urge to join her. Damn, this radar-like hearing is cool!
“Your feelings are obvious, Adriel,” he says as he wedges into a custom made recliner.
“What do you mean?”
He raises one eyebrow and tilts his enormous head to the side. “I understand that
you can come across… foolishly at times”—(ouch)—“but I can sense your intelligence and believe you to be much more keenly aware than you let on.”
I smile. “I’ve been around long enough to know that two people don’t always think identically, so I ask questions to make certain the meaning is clear before responding. And yes, you’ve read me well, but I didn’t think it was too obvious. The closer we are, the thicker and more entwined our bond becomes.”
He gives me a thoughtful look and stands. “I’m going to take a shower as well. I’ll see you in a bit. I don’t have clothes that will fit you, but the washing machine is near the garage on the left. Feel free to use it if you must.” He reaches the master bedroom door and pauses. “You have no idea how unique you really are. I’ve spent most of my long life on this journey, and to actually meet one of you is truly an incredible experience. When we talk this evening, I will tell you what your mother was and in part, what you are as well.” I lose focus with the profundity of the statement and am jerked back from my deep wonderings when the door bangs to a close.
I stall a moment, unable to move or think, still depleted from whatever happened to me at the bar, and hear my ligaments snap and moan as I stand to make my way to the bedroom. I don’t know how, but I sense Percy. Not in a clear way, but I know her vicinity and vaguely understand her feelings, or more appropriately, her emotions, as she is confused about us and frightened of this endless depth we share because of a decision made decades earlier. I feel the sting of guilt that I am somehow responsible for robbing her of a life and path that would have been hers to take. So with heavy heart, I enter the dim room washed with soft lights from lamps resting on eclectic furniture. It’s warm with tranquility as his house is a continuous flow of escapism from the restlessness of feedings, wars, and politics. I sit on the bed, thankful for a moment to be alone with her with no pressing matter to attend to.
Steam is sneaking under the bathroom door and I hear the knob click and turn as it opens without a sound. Percy stands with wet hair and towel wrapped around her voluptuous body, revealing long legs and supple shoulders. Control, Adriel, control.
She says with silky tones, “I know you, Adriel, from the inside. I sense your sorrows, that you blame yourself for our relationship. You actually hurt for me.” She diffidently walks over to the bed and sits very close to me, strumming her fingers through my hair. “I do not regret making that decision so many years ago. We are both strong and relish in our individuality, but this… thing between us reels us to each other in ways that break our barriers and reveal privacies. It is the permanence and vulnerability that I cower from. It will take acclimation, for both of us, but please don’t think that I hold remorse. I gave myself to you and will give more. What we have is strange and terrifying, but it is real.”
“Is it? Or are we just some contrived result of a love potion? I want what we have to be genuine and that can only be achieved through choice.” Our eyes meet in a tender moment and she slides her hand down my cheek to my hand, cupping it in gentleness.
“I made that choice, and even though you were a child, I knew there was something there. Through the years, I have looked back and questioned my reasoning. Was it done in impulse or out of compassion? But since we have reunited, I know it was right and there was always something beyond the Vinculum. I chose who you would become and perhaps who we would become together.”
“I get it, but my heart aches for you regardless.”
“And that is further evidence of it being right. We are more than a spell, Adriel. I choose tonight to surrender without animosity or regret.” She continues with mischief and lust. “Why don’t I help you get cleaned up?”
* * *
We both settle into the living room, satisfied, as our predicament somehow seems to be more manageable. Quilici is patiently waiting with a piping hot cup of java resting next to him on an end table constructed from deer antlers. I shift from the table to him and see a proud smile, as he must play the part of hunter and artist, which explains his bohemian style. His long beard is a thin rope tied by four thick strategically placed black hair bands that have been robbed of all femininity and are complimented by a dreadlocked ponytail to match. I’ve never been a fan of the male ponytail, but he pulls it off without being pompously irritating. It’s probably due to his body-builder frame that dares you to laugh, as it wants desperately to break free from a tight button-down polo stretched to the max.
He says, “I hope you found the accommodations satisfactory?”
I cringe in embarrassment, but Percy stands tall. “More than you can imagine.”
He loses the smile as he lost the victory of wit. “Have a seat, please.”
I choose the other recliner and Percy eases into the large couch, wiggling until all is well and comfortable. I always like to see people when I speak to them and have an issue of personal space, so being on the same couch while talking is a bit too much for me to handle. I’m glad that she understands. I look at Quilici, really look at him with his sharp cornered jaw and high cheek bones that rest below eyes expressing ferality, but deeper beneath is wisdom. He is definitely more animal than most humans, with large teeth, thick skin, and hair-like fur. Yet, somehow he’s actually attractive in a masculine mountain man way.
He catches my thoughts and says, “‘Never judge a book by its cover.’ An old saying that has had many forms through the years, but has survived due to its truth. We are savage during battle, relentless in a hunt, passionate with lovers, extremely loyal, kind to our young ones, and compassionate to our families. We are like you, like humans, and even like the vampires, as most of us are decent beings, but there are those who crave power and all that it entails. Thank you for seeing beyond your vision.”
I nod my head. “You aren’t the only kind who has been misunderstood. Are others like you, though? Are they sophisticated, drinking coffee and listening to classical music?”
He laughs. “Not even close. There are some, though, and we do have music, but usually it is very aggressive, as you found earlier this evening. As for coffee and tea, I enjoy the taste, but as you are painfully aware, the effects are not recognizable.”
Percy says, “Are we safe here? Caedmon seems to have orchestrated a coup with planning and thought and it would not surprise me if he scouted this location.”
Quilici retorts, “We are safe. This has been my dwelling for a hundred years, even before Frederick was chosen as the tribe and pack central location. No one, not even my past lovers, knows of this place; it is mine and mine alone. Well, up until this night. Yet, you are correct concerning Caedmon; he has been planting seeds for decades, anticipating a potential situation that was provided this evening. It does worry me, but we will have to carry on because our journey is more important than my status as pack leader or his betrayal.”
I let slip, “He smells like Africa.”
He immediately responds, “What did you say?” With a quizzical look, I repeat it and he rubs his massive chin and says, “Explain it for me.”
“It’s kind of stupid.”
“I doubt it. Please go on; we will not mock you.”
“Well, there are some people or waers or vamps that leave a strong scent that surfaces memories for me. For instance, when I smelled Caedmon, he reminded me of the time I spent in Mogadishu, Africa. It’s extremely hot with arid conditions throughout the year, but when the rain comes, it pours. It’s more like taking a bath than a shower, because the waterfall of rain is so dense that you can’t feel the individual drops when they batter your skin. There was one day in particular that I was walking on the sand when one of those storms blasted in. It lasted five or so minutes, but the sand was so dry that it absorbed the water with unquenchable thirst and when the storm moved on, there was no evidence that it had ever happened. Nothing would satisfy the dry earth and it would take all nature could give and want more. That is what Caedmon is to me; he is unquenchably ambitious and no matter how much he accumulates, it will never be e
nough.”
He turns to Percy. “Percy, as I understand, your kind you have an acute sense of smell, but it is not as complex as ours. Is that correct?” She considers and nods yes, so he goes on. “Our ancestors all had senses that were equal to a waer’s and we kept them due to our need. The vampires required less of these senses because they relied more on camouflage and deception.”
Percy interjects. “So, we once had your abilities?”
“Yes, but Adriel still does. For a waer, when a scent is powerful, we see the scent in memories, connected insightfully to their hidden character, and never forget its peculiarities, no matter how faint. He has simultaneously evolved, possessing the benefits developed over time, yet retains our original mutation.”
I reach from something just beyond my grasp. “Part of this picture is eluding me. There is something about his scent that’s familiar and I just can’t place it.”
“You will,” he says with confidence.
Percy questions me with curiosity. “Who has recently elicited these memories?”
I think back and reply, “Cassius is the icy death from Russia. Franz is my spelunking cave in VA; you are a katana. Bryn is the mountain breeze in Germany, and Seth is a god.”
Percy says, “You’ll have to explain that one.”
“As a child, my memories of most gods were deities who seemed ambivalent to humanity until provoked, when they would wipe out entire cultures with systematic precision. Seth is a god among humans.”
“There is much truth in that,” she says.
I move forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and rub my drowsy eyes, saying, “I don’t understand why you aren’t a memory as well.”
Quilici receives the statement with a hesitant breath. “A powerful scent has very little association with a smell, as you would think of it.”
