A Shade of Vampire 78: An Origin of Vampires

by Forrest, Bella

  “Do you know him?” I asked.

  Kalon sighed. “Demetrius.”

  “He doesn’t seem friendly.”

  “He isn’t,” Kalon replied dryly, watching Demetrius with interest.

  His opponent was a Nalorean, big and burly and seemingly capable of putting up a good fight against someone like Demetrius. The announcer, a slender, white-haired Aeternae, extended his arms, revealing his fangs as he smiled. It riled up the crowd, as people started cheering, whistling, and clapping.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer shouted. Those sound enhancement panels worked incredibly well. I could hear him as though he was standing right next to us. “Welcome to the semi-final rounds of Visio’s fourteenth tournament this year!”

  The cheers got louder. Below our stall, young Aeternae women were laughing and waving at Demetrius, who couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge them. He only had eyes for Kalon, and not in a good way. My stomach tightened, and for a brief moment, I actually worried about him—Demetrius looked as though he would’ve loved nothing more than to tear his head off, spine and all.

  “Today’s first match has Demetrius of the Mefithi dynasty facing off against Krassus Senda of Nalore!” the announcer continued. Demetrius got plenty of applause and good wishes, but Krassus, on the other hand, did not seem like a fan favorite. He didn’t care, either, as he sauntered across the red clay to meet Demetrius in the middle.

  The Nalorean carried a massive, double-edged battle axe and a solid steel shield with obsidian inlays. He struck me as perfectly capable of chopping even the most ambitious Aeternae into little pieces, but his mere participation in the event was still… odd.

  “So, if Krassus wins this tournament, he’ll have the option of becoming an Aeternae?” I asked, watching as the two fighters circled one another.

  “As soon as the bell rings, the fight will begin!” the announcer said, pointing at a giant bronze bell mounted on a pillar next to his stage. “It need not be to the death, but if that does come to pass, we shall have a feast tonight, right here in this arena, to honor those fallen!”

  That really made the crowd happy, as they cheered and clapped and burst into raucous laughter, their excitement rippling across the bowl and making Demetrius grin. He probably saw himself drinking a cup of blood tonight, to honor the soon-to-die Krassus. At this point, I genuinely wished for Krassus to win, just to humiliate that giant ass.

  “Yes, he will have that option,” Kalon answered. “But I hear he’s more interested in opening his own business. The tournament provides enough compensation to do that. There might even be enough gold left for him to buy an island off the west coast, if he wants to.”

  “That sounds like quite a fortune,” I said. “I just hope he wins.”

  Kalon shot me a grin. “I take it you don’t like Demetrius much, huh?”

  “He has that kind of face.”

  “What kind is that?” Kalon asked, his eyes narrow and glimmering with intrigue.

  “The kind that asks for it.”

  “It?”

  “The ass-whipping of the century. The decapitation of the millennium. I don’t know, anything that’s violent and gruesome enough to take him down. That arrogance is nauseating,” I said. It made Kalon chuckle.

  “I should bring you to these fights more often.”

  “Just don’t expect me to cheer for you,” I replied, pointing at dozens of Aeternae women around the box stalls who were eating him up from afar, fluttering their eyelashes and smiling, hoping they’d get his attention. “You’ve got plenty of fangirls here.”

  Kalon leaned in closer again, cutting off my breath once more. “I’m not interested in them or their cheers.”

  “I’m still not cheering for you,” I said bluntly, my face burning. His breath tickled my face.

  His gaze dropped, and it took all my strength to stop myself from licking my lips. What an inconvenient reflex this was! “I don’t want you to cheer for me. But I hope my victory will make you smile. It’s something worth fighting for.”

  “And if you lose? If you die?”

  “If I lose, though the chance of that happening is slim, I hope you’ll at least tend to my wounded ego. If I die, however, I hope you’ll shed a tear for me,” Kalon said in a serious tone.

  The electricity between us was so intense that the air seemed to crackle. I was speechless as I tried to understand what Kalon’s endgame was, where I was concerned. He was too close for me to think properly, though, and I could almost see him getting closer. Any minute now, our lips might meet. But why would he do this?

  Suspicion rattled me. Was he being genuine in his hot-and-cold approach, or was he following a hidden agenda? As much as I enjoyed our subtle little games and back-and-forths, I needed to be careful with Kalon. He could be genuine, or he could be a fantastic thespian looking for a crack in my armor. The announcer broke through my train of thought as the bell was rung. “Let the fighting begin!”

  Kalon and I moved back, watching the match unfold in the arena. I could breathe again, relaxing slightly in my cushioned seat.

  Demetrius was fast. Too fast for someone like Krassus, I realized, as the Aeternae dashed left and right like a fleeting shadow. It was impossible to predict which angle he’d use to strike from. Krassus didn’t look intimidated, though, raising his shield and moving around a lot in order to make it harder for Demetrius to attack him.

  The Aeternae had a long sword and a smaller, oval shield to use against Krassus. He sidestepped several times before he went in for the first hit. The Nalorean was quick on his feet, despite his large size. He brought his battle axe down, and Demetrius’s shield barely withstood the blow, forcing him down on one knee.

  What Krassus lacked in speed, he made up for in strength. My heart thundered as I watched this violent dance between an Aeternae and a Nalorean. For a moment, I hoped I’d see Krassus win, but Demetrius swerved around and drove his sword into the Nalorean’s side. Gasps erupted from the crowd as Krassus cried out in pain.

  Demetrius didn’t stop there. He pulled his blade back and stabbed him again.

  “I yield,” Krassus shouted.

  Screams tore through the audience when Demetrius didn’t listen and rammed the sword through Krassus’s spine. I could almost hear the vertebrae cracking, shattered by the smooth, sharp steel. Watching in horror, I didn’t even realize I’d gripped Kalon’s hand on the armrest between us.

  Krassus came down hard, blood gushing from his mouth as he fell, flat on his face.

  “Stop!” the announcer screamed. “Stop, Demetrius! No!”

  But Demetrius wasn’t done. By the time the red-leather-clad staff ran to stop him, he’d already delivered a fourth blow, killing Krassus on the spot. Kalon cursed under his breath. Behind me, Derek and Sofia were livid. Amal was stunned. Nethissis bared her copperhead fangs, unable to control herself.

  A low, collective hiss made me shiver. I looked around and saw that most of the Aeternae had their fangs out, as well, scowling at Demetrius for what he had done. Glancing down, I noticed Kalon’s claws coming out, slowly extending from the tips of his fingers. “Kalon…” I murmured, and he stared at me for a moment, boiling with rage.

  Demetrius was satisfied. He dropped his sword and shield, raising both arms in a celebratory fashion. But no one clapped. Not a single soul dared to commend him for what he had done. It was the law pretty much anywhere in this universe and the next, that one could not strike an enemy or an opponent after they yielded. It was not honorable. It was a most despicable and cowardly thing to do.

  It seemed to have thrown the announcer for a loop, too. Acheron was dark, simmering angrily in his seat. He didn’t like it, either. Danika, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care, checking the rings on her fingers as if she’d been watching a boring talk show on public television.

  “How is that allowed?!” Tristan gasped, unable to take his eyes off the fallen Krassus. “He yielded!”

  Valaine sighed, shaking h
er head with disgust, as silence settled across the Blood Arena. “It’s not allowed. If they let Demetrius through to the final, it will taint the entire tournament.”

  “Outlet for violence or not, we must still abide by the rules,” Petra said from the box stall next to us. “Demetrius did us all a great disservice just now.”

  “Will he be disqualified?” I asked, looking at Kalon. “Arrested? It’s basically murder!”

  “I don’t know. The referees will decide,” he replied. “The tournaments are outside the general scope of our laws. It’s been like this for millennia. Anyone entering these competitions agrees that their life is on the line the moment they set foot in the arena, and that they may not make it out of here alive.”

  “That’s disturbing,” I said. “So he could walk away with breaking tournament rules and killing someone?” The thought made me want to vomit.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he muttered.

  The referees were three individuals sitting behind the announcer on the stage. One was an Aeternae, the second was a Rimian, and the third was a Nalorean. They were currently talking between themselves with angry hand gestures, pointing the occasional finger at Demetrius, who stood over Krassus’s corpse, grinning and waiting for a verdict.

  “This wasn’t about winning the match,” Kalon realized. “This was about killing Krassus, from the very beginning.”

  There was movement in the pits that surrounded the fighting area, where other champions awaited. One of them, a tall and muscular Rimian, jumped up and rushed toward Demetrius with his twin short swords out. The color drained from Kalon’s face as he recognized him.

  “No… Trev, don’t!” he shouted, but the Rimian fighter couldn’t hear him. He was too angry. His blades thirsted for the Aeternae’s blood.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  But Kalon no longer heard me. He jumped out of his seat and over the box stall’s edge, then made his way down the steps so fast, it looked as though he was flying. In the blink of an eye, he reached the bottom, pulling the angry Rimian back from what was bound to turn into a bloody tragedy.

  Demetrius welcomed the challenge, but the staff in red leather kept him away from Kalon and the Rimian. I watched, my jaw close to the floor, as the entire thing turned into a mindless brawl, with multiple fighters jumping in to avenge Krassus’s wrongful death. Soon, silver guards breached the arena and enforced a faint sense of order, while the rest of us could do nothing other than experience blood-boiling outrage.

  “What the hell just happened?” I managed, glancing at Valaine—the only one who could clarify this baffling moment.

  “That’s Trev Blayne,” she said, nodding at the angry Rimian, who was now listening to Kalon as he tried to talk some sense into him. This was a side of Kalon I hadn’t seen before. He clearly had more than one way of surprising me. “He used to serve the Visentis dynasty. He was Kalon’s squire for a long time.”

  “And now he’s fighting in the tournaments?” I replied.

  Valaine nodded. “He wants to become an Aeternae. Trev and Kalon are close friends, which is why Kalon didn’t enter this tournament. He never fights when Trev is competing. And Trev never fights in Kalon’s tournaments, either.”

  “Because one of them will die if they lose the final,” Tristan concluded.

  “Exactly. And Trev is an exquisite warrior. I can see him ending up against Kalon, if they fight in the same tournament,” Valaine explained. “And they’re too fond of each other to risk that.”

  “Has Trev won other tournaments before?” Tristan replied.

  “This is his first, and he’s been doing a remarkable job. However, if Demetrius is allowed into the final after what he just did, I’m afraid Trev will not live to experience immortality,” Valaine said. “He’s good, but he’s not as good as Demetrius.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please calm down,” the announcer shouted, a message meant for all those present, including the fighters, the silver guards, the referees, and the buzzing audience. “We’ve reached a decision,” he added.

  It was enough to render everyone silent. Demetrius’s smirk wavered, as if a part of him knew he might not exit victoriously from this fight. It was up to the referees, though, and I worried they might favor him, still.

  In the meantime, Kalon convinced Trev to move back, escorting him up the steps and toward our box stall. Whatever he was telling the Rimian, it seemed to soothe him enough to get the twin swords back in their sheaths.

  “Demetrius of the Mefithi dynasty!” the announcer said. “You committed murder. Your opponent yielded, and you killed him, nonetheless. You have dishonored your family and the Blood Arena!”

  “What?! No! It’s a fair fight! I won!” Demetrius snarled, his face red with anger.

  “He yielded!” the announcer replied. “The referees have spoken! You are therefore disqualified from this tournament and barred from participating for the remainder of the year!”

  Demetrius bared his fangs in a menacing fashion, prompting some of the silver guards to turn away from the fighters they were trying to keep at bay. They were ready to intervene if Demetrius decided to do something even stupider than what he’d already done.

  “People die in these tournaments! It’s not fair that I get punished for this!” he said, unwilling to let this go. He was being berated and humiliated in public. Of course he wasn’t going to drop the issue.

  “On top of that, you will pay reparations to Krassus’s family, since they won’t be seeing their father again,” the announcer added, his tone flat, unimpressed by Demetrius’s tantrum. At least they held on to their values and stood up to monsters like him. I had to appreciate that.

  “You’re joking.” Demetrius chuckled.

  “He yielded, you brainless tree stump!” Trev shouted from above. “You deserve this and much worse! Be thankful you just get to shell out some gold coins!”

  “You’re just lucky you won’t be facing me in the final,” Demetrius snapped, pointing an angry finger at the Rimian, who smirked.

  “I would’ve enjoyed killing you. It’s a missed opportunity.”

  “I’ll see you outside then, and give you another shot,” Demetrius hissed.

  “Enough!” Kalon replied. “Take your penalty with whatever dignity you have left! You killed a Nalorean after he yielded. It will forever besmirch your house and your honor.”

  “How many fighters participate in these tournaments?” I heard Tristan ask Valaine.

  “Hundreds. From smaller houses and dynasties, too, not just from the high seven,” she replied. “These usually end in people getting maimed. Indeed, sometimes they get killed, too—especially the Aeternae. You’d be surprised at how feeble many of us are without our claws and fangs. We’re too used to having them, so weapons feel heavy and clunky by comparison.”

  “I can’t believe the Aeternae do this just for the thrill of maybe dying,” Sofia murmured.

  “It’s all they have left,” Valaine said. “There are also great honors and fortunes for the winners. Those matter, too.”

  “It’s clearly a cultural thing,” Tristan replied. “I get it. I don’t have to like it, but I get it.”

  “Valaine fights in the tournaments, as well,” Petra chimed in, smiling at us. Her humor was quick to sink when Demetrius’s voice boomed through the arena.

  “Mind your own business, Lord Visentis. I have no interest in dealing with fatherless bloodsuckers such as yourself!”

  The silence that followed was death-like. My blood froze as I watched Kalon’s expression shift and darken into something almost unrecognizable. Trev was by his side, and he put a hand on Kalon’s chest in a bid to stop him from doing something he might regret.

  “Kalon,” Petra called out, her voice smooth and cautious.

  But Kalon didn’t hear her. He didn’t hear anyone. Demetrius had offended him deeply, and I had a feeling that he wasn’t going to get out of here without being torn to pieces by the very Aeternae who�
��d stopped Trev from avenging Krassus’s death.

  “That’s very unwise of you, Lord Mefithi,” Kalon said, turning around to look down at Demetrius, whose smirk broadened. He was itching for a fight, and he struck me as mind-numbingly reckless.

  Kalon was right. Demetrius had not come here to win. He’d come here to kill, which was never a sign of a good or honorable fighter. It was the makeup of a psychopath, and now I worried that Kalon had become his new center of interest.

  “What are you going to do about it?” Demetrius asked.

  The announcer clapped his hands once. “Enough, please! You have done enough harm to this arena today, Demetrius. You are banned from entering this sacred space until the end of the year. Guards, escort him out. A decree will be issued, demanding that he pay the family of the slain Nalorean.”

  Demetrius scoffed, sneering at the guards who approached him with caution. They knew him well enough to consider him a risk, even in these circumstances. Nevertheless, he obeyed and made his way up the steps.

  The worst part was yet to come, though, as he was about to pass Kalon and Trev.

  “Kalon!” Petra shouted, but she still couldn’t get her son’s attention. Demetrius had pushed the right buttons in him.

  As he reached Kalon, Demetrius whispered something. Kalon didn’t react, letting him go up the stairs in the company of the silver guards. As soon as he reached the edge of the arena bowl, however, Kalon smiled. “Demetrius!” he shouted, prompting the disgraced fighter to turn around. “I’ll see you at midnight under the full moon, in Black Square. No weapons. To the death.”

  My stomach churned.

  “Kalon, no!” Petra croaked, her eyes wide with fury and outrage—but not fear for her son’s life, which struck me as rather odd.

  Looking around, I noticed Valaine was displeased, but also unconcerned. Chances were that I was more worried about him than anyone else. Probably because I’ve never seen him fight.

  “I look forward to it,” Demetrius said, then vanished from sight.

  Kalon and Trev exchanged a few more words before they came up to our box stall. With everything that had happened, I didn’t even see the staff members who picked up Krassus’s body and cleared the fighting space.