The Siren

by Petra Landon

  In a blinding flash, it came to him. Perhaps, her eschewing of the Blood Elementals was not that dissimilar to his own disillusionment with the Spell Casters. The picture his mind wove for him appalled him. A past like that would inflict indelible scars, emotional and psychological. He wondered if the many betrayals were what made the witchling hesitant to trust Chosen. It might even justify her puzzling reluctance to admit to any feelings for a Wyr, he speculated. Though it did not explain her near terror at the mere suggestion of it.

  He hesitated to push the topic with her, reluctant to pour salt on her wounds. But at the same time, Raoul knew that the stakes were higher now. If his suspicions were correct, the Blood Mages posed as big a threat to the witchling as the Clan. He must understand the risks if he was to rise to the challenge.

  His voice gentled. “Will you tell me about the birth of the leeches, witchling?” he asked.

  Tasia sighed, unable to deny him. If there was a chance of tracing ElDarZin’s daughter, who they suspected had a part to play in The Prophecy, the Alpha must understand the old divisions and bitterness that lingered on for many First Ones. Plus, he’d hit the nail on the head. Very few Magicks alive knew the truth about the birth of the only test-tube Chosen ever created. More importantly, even fewer would agree to discuss it with a Wyr Alpha.

  “How much do you know?” she prompted him.

  “ElBlodMagin, a powerful Mage, was experimenting on Chosen when he accidentally created the first leeches” Raoul responded succinctly. It had been such a long time ago that the Chosen had come to terms with it, despite their ambivalence about the Clan. But he was beginning to understand that while the other factions had made their peace with it, the Ancients had not. “There was chaos and consternation in the First Ones, who made the conscious decision to keep the other Chosen in the dark until the issue could be resolved. Eventually, an assembly of Ancient Elders reached the controversial decision to allow the experiments to stand and the Clan was born.”

  “You have the gist of it” Tasia acknowledged.

  He waited patiently while she struggled to find the right words to explain a turbulent period in the First Ones’ history.

  “Once upon a time, there were two brothers — Blood Elemental twins” Tasia began, going back to the origins of the tale. “Some say the most powerful Blood Mages in the long history of the Chosen. They called themselves BlodMaginEti and BlodMaginTuo.”

  “Blood Mage one and two” Raoul murmured.

  “Yes” she affirmed. “Inseparable and popular, they were slated to be future leaders and influencers of the Chosen. Until a rift drove them apart. Some say it was a woman — a Mage both brothers fell in love with. Whatever the cause, the brothers became estranged for the first time in their lives. At first, it was a raging but private feud. But when one brother won the woman’s heart, it became open warfare. They feuded over everything — their powers, their work and even their Magick Facades. They were no longer eager for posterity to remember them as the Blood Elemental twins, but rather each laid claim to the appellation ElBlodMagin — the Blood Mage. For a few years, the feud simmered at a low boil. One brother married and moved on but the other seethed in silence, throwing himself into his work to prove that he was the better Mage.”

  “When news first trickled in that a new kind of Chosen had been forged by a Blood Mage, the married brother was furious. This went against the code the Blood Elementals had lived by since the beginning. An unwritten rule the First Ones all understood. The Forebearers, in their wisdom, had created the perfect equilibrium between the Chosen. Designing more would bring this fine balance crashing down. It might even affect the Supreme Edict by revealing our presence to the Si’ffa. As they woke up to the crisis, the First Ones started asking the hard questions. The Blood Mage responsible for the Blutsaugers claimed that it was an accident — he’d never set out to create a different Magick. But many First Ones were skeptical of his claims. The most vociferous amongst them was his twin who insisted that such an undertaking was impossible without many failures and repeated experiments — thus, the Blutsaugers could not be an accident. The Blood Elementals started taking sides, especially after rumors spread that the Elders were contemplating a collective punishment for the transgression of one. Eventually, in a contentious session, the Elders voted to allow the creation of the Blutsaugers to stand. But they also enacted a new law that outlawed any experimentation on or manipulation of Chosen magic. They called it the Magic Directive and made the punishment akin to violating the Supreme Edict — death. Since the Primogeniture Canons are the only Chosen tenets to be handed down from generation to generation, albeit orally, the Magic Directive was amended to it.”

  “In effect, the Mage that created the Clan won” Raoul murmured pensively. “When it came down to it, the Elders could not bring themselves to condemn the leeches for a crime they had no hand in. Perhaps, their Mage creator had been counting on the very thing.”

  This was exactly what many First Ones claimed, Tasia knew.

  “Their creator declared himself ElBlodMagin, infuriating his twin even more” she explained. “The twin continued to proclaim that the only reason his brother had birthed the Vampires was to grow his following, because the Blutsaugers possess little magic of consequence.”

  “Yes, the leeches have only one advantage over other Chosen” he adjured thoughtfully. “They can populate much faster than others, given our fertility issues and falling birth rates.”

  “The Elders established a framework for the Vampires — their rate of converting new members is capped and they’re not allowed to turn Chosen, only Si’ffa” Tasia said. “This was to ensure that Chosen magic is not accidently brought into the Blutsauger bloodline.”

  Raoul’s brow furrowed. “But the original leeches had been Chosen before the experiments?”

  “Yes” Tasia confirmed. “All recruited from the First Ones.”

  “In a sense, the horse had already left the barn” he pointed out.

  Tasia did not disagree with him. Similar arguments had been made a thousand years ago, but in the end, the Elders had not been able to sentence Chosen to death for simply agreeing to participate in a successful experiment.

  “The guiding principles laid down for the newly created Blutsaugers were not codified, like much of the guidelines for Magicks” she cited. “The thinking was that if the Elders recognized them as Chosen, the Vampires must be treated like the others. Barring the Supreme Edict, our laws are all unwritten but vigorously enforced.”

  Raoul chewed on what he had learned, only to note the contradictions.

  “The Magic Directive put the other Blood Elementals on notice — no experimentation like ElBlodMagin would be countenanced and the punishment for any breach would be fatal” he averred, as the irony of the old decision, and the outrage and damage arising from it, struck Raoul anew. “While the Mage responsible for the actual infarction got away scot-free.”

  “The Elders’ decision nearly tore the First Ones apart” Tasia attested soberly. “But for the Blood Elementals, it was much more personal. They were bitter and resentful, especially at the other First Ones for the unfair and unwarranted treatment of them.”

  “But that wasn’t the end of it?” he enumerated, reminded of her proclamation from before. “You said there was a war.” The injustice would be hard to swallow for the Blood Mages, Raoul recognized. It would take a few generations for the wounds to heal.

  Tasia hesitated infinitesimally, as if choosing her words. If he noticed it, he did not let on.

  “After the Elders’ decision, the Blutsaugers claimed that the Mage, who’d disagreed the most vehemently with the verdict to allow them life, had broken the new Magic Directive. They alleged that ElBlodMagin’s twin had tampered with Blood Elemental bloodlines to create Mages with the power to exterminate the Clan.”

  The Alpha’s brows drew together. “Had he?” he inquired. For the Blood Elementals, already enraged at the bias of the Elders’ decision, such a
n accusation would only add more kindling to the fire.

  Tasia shrugged. “The Elders found no evidence of it, but the Clan went to war with the Blood Elementals anyway. There were few Vampires then and the Blood Mages were too powerful for them. The Elders stepped in, to smooth things over and broker an uneasy peace between the two brothers.”

  “That precarious peace has held for a thousand years” he spelled out.

  “Of sorts” she acknowledged. Tasia did not contradict him. On the surface, since the brokered peace, the Clan and the Blood Mages had not descended into public strife. “There is détente on both sides.”

  “The leeches fear the Blood Mages” Raoul mused aloud. “They don’t have ElBlodMagin to protect them anymore.”

  “But given their respective numbers today, the Blood Elementals would be obliterated in any confrontation with the Vampires” Tasia proffered the counter to his argument. “Hence, the détente.”

  Raoul ruminated on the events of the fraught past. The Elders’ decision had been imperfect, a compromise to a warped situation that continued to fester for those it affected the most. Durovic had implied that ElDarZin’s views were in the minority among the First Ones. But clearly, the Ancients had not yet come to grips with the compromise made a thousand years ago. Raoul wondered anew how the leeches had won a seat at the Council of Chosen. He must ask Faoladh about it, he determined. Before the Council, the murmurs against the Clan had been more vocal and their ostracism by the other Chosen almost complete.

  While he pondered the old controversy, Tasia watched the gentle waves break against the pebbles. Unlike a majority of the Chosen, the Elders’ choices affected her personally, impinging on her past, influencing her present and affecting her future. It was a decision she lived with every day. But she was determined to shove the dour thoughts away for just a little while. Having indulged his curiosity, all she wanted was to bask in this perfect hideaway the Alpha had gifted her. The horizon over the water showed the first hint of crimson, a sign of the approaching sunset. The little stretch of beach was as serene as before, though Tasia took note of the increasing birdcalls as they readied for sundown.

  “It can be very liberating if no one lays down the rules” the Alpha asserted cryptically, to break the silence.

  A startled Tasia turned to him, confused by the remark.

  “If you’re neither Blood Mage nor Wizard, you’re free to follow your own path” he expanded. “Unfettered in choosing your destiny, instead of being bracketed by the rules of the faction.”

  “Is that how you see it?” Tasia asked. She’d never perceived her fate as any kind of emancipation. Instead, it felt like she had no say in her life — with her destiny set in stone even before her birth.

  He shrugged. “I’d be miserable as a Spell Caster, even if they accepted me into the fold. It was never a real choice for me. A Pack, on the other hand, gives me a certain freedom.”

  Tasia huffed. “When you’re the Alpha Protector, you make your own rules” she retorted. “Sara has to live with the ones others make for her. No different than the Wizards or Blood Elementals. Or anyone else.”

  “True” he accepted her argument. “But we’re not talking of the average Magick. Your power separates you from the herd, even as it comes with a choice. If you reveal your true face to our world, you’ll be inducted into the privileged club that makes the rules others must follow. But without your camouflage, you’d also be forever looking over your shoulder for someone wanting a piece of you.”

  Tasia said nothing. He was right — a stark choice confronted her. But the irony was that it was not really up to her to pick her path. That had been decided for her by an unholy bargain much before she was born.

  “There is always a price to pay, witchling” he reiterated his point. “The opportunity to dictate my own destiny comes with a cost. I may be challenged at any time by a Wyr who thinks he can take me out. Alpha Protectors are constantly under threat in the Shifter world.”

  As the implications of his assertion sank in, Tasia studied him. Clearly, the prospect didn’t worry him. But his words reminded her of another likelihood that disquieted her. Since he’d opened this can of worms by talking about choices made and paths not taken, she decided to be equally candid.

  “For someone with such pearls of wisdom, you don’t heed your own advice” she proclaimed.

  If she’d expected to surprise him, she was disappointed. He merely looked intrigued.

  “Which one?” the Alpha asked her.

  “You have upwards of L9 magic flowing through your veins. Yet, you refuse it.”

  His brows shot together, more curious than anything. “Why is this so important to you, witchling?”

  Tasia girded herself. “Why is it not important to you?” she challenged him. “The relentless instructor who commands me to be ruthless, change tactics when they’re not working and deploy every weapon at my disposal wants nothing to do with his rightful legacy. What is he afraid of?”

  The gold eyes flared at her provocative words but Tasia held her nerve, refusing to back down. To her astonishment, he let out a chuckle.

  “Goading me will not work” he contended. “But it does make me wonder.”

  Something, a shadow or a flicker, in the depths of the gold eyes had Tasia rearing back from him in outrage. “You’re trying to read me?” she accused him.

  He was unperturbed. “Nothing’s stopping you from turning the tables on me, witchling. You’ve roused my curiosity.”

  “This is unfair” she cried angrily.

  “No different than using my Spell Caster magic. You want me to use every advantage I have. This falls well within your parameters.”

  Before a speechless Tasia could remonstrate further, the gold eyes flashed with sudden comprehension. “You’re afraid” he muttered, taken aback by the conclusion.

  For Tasia, his declaration invoked her moment of weakness at the Embarcadero, the only time she’d come close to breaking down before him. Tasia closed her mouth, to swallow her retort. Her chin went up.

  “I’m not afraid” she spit out the words defiantly.

  At first, he didn’t react, seemingly mulling over his own thoughts.

  “Not for yourself, witchling, but for me” Raoul said slowly, savoring each word.

  Unable to offer a riposte or counter his statement, her eyes skittered away from his.

  Silence descended on the secluded hideout with the lone visitors. Tasia, who had no intention of making any such admission to him, stayed stubbornly mute. She’d done her part in pointing out the flaw in his perplexing and incomprehensible choice to not tap the magic he had been born with. If the big bad Alpha refused to listen to reason, she would not press him anymore. She had been the lone witness to his unbelievable strength and immense resilience in the cage against his own instincts, the poison of the silver and his resurgent beast. And she’d seen him in action against the Nest in San Francisco, the psychotic Vampire Mistress and even the Guardians on their own turf in San Diego. Tasia knew his reputation was no fluke. Yet, she had pushed the issue because, while he might strike terror in Chosen hearts, he was still a Wyr. It limited his powers when he went up against heavyweights like an Archmage.

  She sensed his eyes on her, but Tasia kept her gaze firmly on the water, refusing to meet his. He was the first to break the charged silence between them.

  “How about a deal, witchling?” he proposed. “Admit why you’re so insistent about my Spell Caster powers and I’ll agree to not waste them.”

  Tasia grit her teeth but refused to give him an inch.

  “It’s a fair compromise” he cajoled her softly. “All you have to do is tell me why.”

  She turned to him, furious now. “Why is it my job to save you from your worst instincts?”

  The arctic gold eyes did not soften an iota. “Not your job, but it is gratifying that you want to.”

  Tasia felt her anger draining away, as quickly as it had surged through her. This arrogant m
an should be allowed some latitude for meaning well, she told herself.

  She faced him head on, with the same fearlessness with which she’d tackled his loss of control in the cage. “You’re gearing up to confront the army Lady Bethesda has been raising for two decades. We don’t know who it includes but Monseigneur is involved. As is a Mage the likes of ElDarZin, investigated by the Elders for trying to devise an artifact powerful enough to rival what the Forebearers left behind. Now, there are hints that a Deadly, with the power to crush a building, might be embroiled too. You have magic in you waiting to be tapped. Why let your inheritance go to waste?”

  She paused for breath but he did not interject. “I’m to use every means to survive when separated from the Pack” Tasia reminded him softly, holding his gaze. “But it doesn’t apply to you?”

  The gold eyes did not waver. Tasia waited, wondering whether she’d made her case.

  “Alright” he conceded, almost conversationally. “At our next session in the Lair, teach me about this inheritance.”

  Tasia, gearing up to make an impassioned case, was floored by his prosaic proclamation.

  “For future reference, witchling” he continued in the same refrain, as if it was every day that he agreed to embrace his abhorred Spell Caster birthright. “If you’d told me you were worried about me, I’d have been more receptive to the idea.”

  Joy and pleasure unfurled in the pit of her stomach, their tendrils threading though her. She had so much to be thankful for. This secluded and pristine Greek idyll, with the sun glinting off the iridescent water and the sound of silence enveloping her. And the intractable, reserved and ferocious Wyr by her side, who’d just agreed to tap into a legacy he loathed, ostensibly to set her mind at ease. As the sun slid down over the horizon to leave colorful streaks in the sky, the possibilities seemed endless to Tasia. In this moment stolen from time, nothing was impossible, no circumstance too tangled to overcome and no history too contentious to surpass. Tasia laughed aloud, unfettered and joyous; the echoes bouncing off the water to scatter over it. The future beckoned her, bright without the thorns strewn in her path.