by Shadow Soft
I kept out of it. I was ten times as eager as any of them to reach Symbiosia, but there was no sense to arguing. For the moment, we were keeping under the radar. That was enough for me. Victor said he knew where we were going, and despite recent experience, I trusted him. It was a gut feeling, I guess. There didn’t seem to be any reason for him to lie to me about this. Unless it was to keep Vales, Nathan, and Erika from panicking, and in that case I couldn’t say I would be very upset. Vales had a temper like a riled adder when things weren’t going how she wanted.
It was dusk when we reached Symbiosia. My legs throbbed from a day of relentless walking. Blake was whistling with resilient cheerfulness, but other than that we had been quiet for hours. It had rained yesterday and the oil on our tents had finally worn thin, so when we woke everything was glumly damp. Things don’t dry when you’re up in the mountains, not when the sun’s hiding behind clouds like it had been the past few days, which meant that all day today we’d been walking in sodden clothing. Socks, shoes, pants, sweatshirts—everything. It chafed and our feet blistered. Hopefully, considering this, you can understand our consummate silence, and why our moods weren’t quite sanguine as we trudged up Symbiosia’s mainstreet.
Fortunately, it didn’t take long for our spirits to lift. Yes, our socks were sodden and our stomachs growling, since we had eaten the last of our rations for lunch. But––
Heaven bless us, we were here! We had reached Symbiosia. The feeling of relief was glorious. After weeks of being chased around central Europe by SCHNUET and LDV alike, to be within sight of our long-sought refuge brought tears to my eyes. If what Victor said was true, I would be safe here. Safer than anywhere else, leastways. And that was the most I could hope for.
The snow crunched beneath our boots as we made our way up the single road cutting through the middle of town. Victor was in the lead, as usual, and he seemed confident of where we were going. I studied the town with surreptitious eyes as its buildings closed in around us. It was smaller than I had imagined. Well, perhaps that’s not quite accurate. If I had thought about it, I would have assumed Symbiosia would be small. There are few vampires and even fewer humans who would agree to the conditions here. What I mean to say is that I was struck by the smallness of it, walking in.
And keep in mind, I had spent the past three years of my life in towns that were quite small by modern standards. Less than a thousand people in all cases—in some, only a couple hundred. Symbiosia seemed to be on the smaller end of my familiarity. Looking around, I saw what seemed a bare handful of houses clustered around a single central square. Narrower streets cut perpendicular across the main road we followed, trailing off into the dusk and snow to houses set a bit farther back.
In the center of town, in the square, a clump of small buildings represented the necessities of life: a grocery store, a bank, a gas station, and so on. There was, rather conspicuously, no post office. No telephone wires, either, which made sense, considering how lost in the mountains we were. But I guessed as to the second reason: Symbiosia was a scientific experiment, a project in process. It would be ruined if the entire world knew about it. The people who lived here were recluses from everyone but each other.
Victor led us through the square without stopping, toward the building at the far side of town. Yes, I mean it accurately when I say there was one building at the far side of town. It was dramatically different from the rest. No little cozy cabin or miniature grocery store. It wasn’t built of tarred pine logs and didn’t have a smokestack poking out its top trailing grayness into the fog. This building was huge—eight times as big as the grocery store, twenty times as big as any of the houses. It was made of steel in a neomodern style, with long panels of windows and various unidentified apparatus decorating its roof.
It reminded me chillingly of the labs that had been my home for the first ten years of my life. Modern. Advanced. Scientific. Everything about it exuded study. Intelligence and progress and research. All wonderful things, unless you’re the specimen in the petri dish.
I tried—and failed—to suppress a shiver as we trundled nearer. Only a few people were out and about this time of evening, especially with the temperature as frigid as it was. Most gave us a lingering glance as they went their way. A few nodded or offered perfunctory waves. One acknowledged Victor by name. His eyes followed me until he disappeared down one of the side streets, and I had the distinct feeling he was one of Symbiosia’s vampires. It was impossible to be sure, I now knew. They wore dentures showing normal human teeth and contacts to disguise their glow-in-the-dark eyes.
Does he know who I am? I wondered uneasily as Victor led us toward the research center. I shoved away nightmares of vampires breaking into my room at night, pinning me down as they leered with glowing eyes. That won’t happen here. I have to believe it won’t. I have to believe what Victor says . . . . What they all say. Vales says it, too. She says I’ll be safe here. I have to believe her.
She lied to you once, a small, insidious voice whispered in the back of my head. What’s to stop her from doing it again? I started fretting about what reasons Vales could have for duping me into coming to Symbiosia. The fact that I was walking willingly toward a lab identical to the ones I had abhorred my entire life wasn’t helping matters, either. What if Victor had brought me here just to test me more? Probes and needles and pincers . . . .
I was just warming up to the task of worrying myself sick when Victor veered to the left, taking a small, tidily-cobbled path that led into a stand of spruce behind and to the side of the research center. You can imagine how the tightness in my stomach relaxed. We weren’t going into the lab. For tonight, at least, I would give Victor the benefit of the doubt and assume everything he had told me was the truth.
In the middle of the spruce was a cheerful little cottage that cast rectangles of yellow across the snow in front of it. Home? I wondered, and wondered also if I dared call any place that. I would never truly have a home on this earth, would I? I would always be running. Moving. Changing. There was no place as permanent as home for me.
I heard a small sigh of relief from Valerie as Victor pushed open the front door to a wash of soft light. We clustered inside the cramped entryway, all seven of us—the Nightfall parents, Blake and Vales, the cousins, and myself. It was warm and smelled like cinnamon bread.
It took several minutes of snuffling and coughing and general snowy mess before we were sufficiently undressed as to not track puddles into the living room. Wet jackets and sweaters were left in a rather imposing heap beside the door, along with socks and boots whose laces were frozen stiff. Into the heap also went scarves and caps, gloves and belts and . . . . well, nearly everything other than pants and shirts. As I said before, we were wet all the way to the skin.
Nathan and Erika ran off to fill both bathtubs as soon as Valerie let them, leaving me alone with the Nightfall family. Things had been generally less rosy between the five of us since the truth came crashing out those weeks ago when the LDV attacked. I had been more taciturn and wasn’t afraid to admit that I didn’t trust them fully anymore. When Valerie tried to tousle my hair I leaned away and gave her a flat look. When Blake asked to train with me I declined. Small gestures, perhaps, but small didn’t mean quiet.
Things were clearly different now. I no longer considered them . . . . Well, perhaps I can say it more succinctly like this: I no longer considered myself part of their family. Not entirely. Halfway I was, but only that. The past three years couldn’t be erased—the kindness they had shown me, the lengths they had gone to to keep me safe. Safe—from others. But from themselves? That, too, couldn’t be erased. They had lied to me and used me without my knowledge. They had taken my blood. It was impossible for me to go back to feeling like I was one of them.
“Oh,” Vales sighed, “am I ready for a hot meal!”
“And a hot bath,” Valerie agreed. “And a good night’s worth of sleep.”
I felt them turn to me, hoping that I would jump in with a
cheery comment of my own. I didn’t. Ignoring them, I trailed curiously out of the entryway. An arched doorway led into the living room, where a fire crackled merrily on the hearth. Shaded lamps cast globes of yellow light into the air.
Warmth, I though with a small breath of anticipation, seeing the fire. I took a step toward it, then I saw the old woman sitting in the rocking chair beside it, and stopped.
She wasn’t old old, not bent and crinkled and white-wisp-haired. But she was comfortably into her late sixties, with the look of someone who’d lived their fill of life and had a legion’s worth of memories to look back on. Her hands were veined and bony, her eyes ringed by darkness that spoke of all the years behind her. Nonetheless, I would never have thought that she looked frail. Despite wrinkles and veins, despite the bony knobbiness of elbows and knees, she was strong for a woman her age. Her eyes were sharp and clear and intelligent. Almost unnervingly clear, in fact. They pierced me as soon as I stepped into the room. Filled with delight and curiosity.
“Ah,” the old woman said, “so you have come at last.”
I almost turned and ran. Give me a little credit and realize the sinister cast these first words have when you hear them from my point of view. Here I am, wondering if this village is going to be the life or death of me, if tonight is going to be the worst night of my life or the best, and I am greeted with ‘So you have come at last’ ? That’s an ominous statement if anything is.
Probably wisely, I didn’t run. Part of it was because I had nowhere to run to, and part of it was because I didn’t think the old woman could catch me even at a walk. So I stayed standing where I was, unreplying.
“Valx,” the old woman said, rolling my name around in her mouth as if it were a candy she was trying to get the flavor from. “Valx, Valx. Mercy, have I heard a lot about you the past three years.”
“Honestly I’d think it’d be longer than that,” I said. “As I understand it, I’ve been creating quite a stir ever since I was born, and that was thirteen years ago.”
“Yes, well.” Sighing, the old woman pushed herself ponderously out of the rocking chair. Standing, she was taller than I would have thought. Slender with narrow hips, narrow shoulders, and long arms. In the shadows the fire cast her face was sharp and her chin sharper. “It’s only been three years since you came to live with my son, and that’s when I began to hear about you for real. You, Valx—not Subject X.”
My mouth opened, surprise tumbling around inside me. “You’re . . . . you’re . . . .” I gestured behind me, to the half-seen entryway.
She smiled thinly. “Victor’s mother? Yes.”
“Oh.”
She looked at me sharply. “Oh,” she said, mimicking me.
“It’s just––”
“You didn’t know about me?”
I shook my head.
“Mm.” Coming forward, Victor’s mother held out her hand. “My name is Rose,” she said with a touch of warmth to her smile. “Rose Nightfall.”
It was a mysteriously picturesque name. “You already know,” I shrugged. “I’m Valx.”
“Yes.” She shook my hand with warm firmness. “I’m glad you decided to come to Symbiosia. I’ve been trying to convince Victor to bring you for some time.”
“You’ve been trying to convince him?” I asked, startled. “I thought this whole village was Victor’s idea in the first place.”
“Well, partly.” Motioning for me to warm myself in front of the fire, Rose resumed her seat. “We collaborated on it, he and I. It’s been a joint vision of ours for many years.” She clasped her hands in her lap and tilted her head back against the headrest. “A place where humans and vampires can live together in harmony, serving each other and enjoying a fellowship that’s been forsaken as long as both have been alive . . . .” She sighed deeply, a wistful smile curling the edges of her lips. “It’s paradise, isn’t it? If we could only make it work on a larger scale, existence would be pure heaven.” A frown wrinkled the bliss of her smile, and her eyes cracked open to fix me with the intensity of her gaze. “Well,” she said, “perhaps that’s not quite the truth. This is but one of the myriad problems facing humanity. Nevertheless . . . . what can we do but fix one at a time?”
A bit hesitant, I moved closer to the fire and stretched out my hands. Welcome warmth seeped into my palms and tingled at my fingertips. “It would be an enormous step for mankind,” I agreed. “Although it seems a bit . . . .” I shrugged. “Ambitious?”
“Hm.” She fiddled with a strand of gray hair. “Ambitious dreams are the only ones worth pursuing, don’t you think?”
“Ok—unrealistic.”
“Unrealistic.” Rose gave me a mock scowl. “The only unrealistic dreams are the ones you deem unrealistic, Valx. Call a dream unrealistic, and so it is. Call it realistic, and . . . . well, it might just be.” Her eyes, lightest blue, glittered. “Symbiosia is just a test. We’ll see where it goes from here.”
A test. Ugh. I hated the word. I knew it was necessary, but too many horrible memories gave it a bad taste in my mouth. Forcing myself to relax a bit more, I settled onto the tile in front of the fireplace with my back to the flames. The heat felt delicious as it crawled up my back. “So do you . . . ?” I made vague gestures with my hands, indicating the extent and imprecision of what I wanted to ask.
Again, Rose’s eyes twinkled. I had the feeling she knew what I was going to say before I said it. “I am the leader of Symbiosia. In Victor’s absence, that is.” She shrugged. “When he’s here—which he usually isn’t—we sort of lead it together.”
I nodded. It figured. “And are you . . . ?”
“A vampire?” She reached up with a thumb and forefinger and clicked out the denture fitted to her upper jaw, revealing pointed canines. My stomach soured at the sight of them, and if I hadn’t grown accustomed to being around the Nightfall family over the past weeks I would have bolted. “Yes,” Rose said, “but I’m one of the nice ones, don’t worry.”
Despite her reassurances, is was hard not to worry. The Nightfalls I had lived with for the past three years, and recent disputes aside, I had come to trust them implicitly. If that trust had been shaken over the past few weeks . . . . well, shaken was all it was. It still held. Three years of life, of friendship, of trust could not crumble in a single moment. So while I was more suspicious than I had once been, I could be reasonably sure they wouldn’t tie me up and drain my blood.
In Symbiosia I wasn’t so sure. I knew the whole point of the village was coexistence between humans and vampires, and I knew that so far the system had been working well, if not flawlessly. But I also knew that they had never had Subject X himself in their midst. The vampires of Symbiosia had steeled themselves against the impulses that urged them to attack normal humans—but I wasn’t a normal human. What if their resolve wavered when they found out I was in their village? My blood gave vampires enormous power. What if the temptation was too strong?
Rose is an old woman, I reminded myself. I don’t think she could bear me to the ground even if she wanted to. It was a small relief, but for the moment it was enough. Vales joined me at the fire, shivering, after giving a hug and a kiss to her grandmother. Victor and Valerie disappeared down the hallway toward what I guessed was the kitchen, and Blake thumped up the stairs with claims to the next hot shower.
Grandmother Rose rocked back and forth in her quilt-draped chair beside us. Back and forth, back and forth. The rockers creaked against the floor every time, and Rose’s eyes, half-lidded, followed my ever movement. Their sharp intelligence disturbed me. They weren’t the kindly old eyes of most grandmothers. Not that they weren’t kindly—they were, but they were so much more. I felt as if they were peeling apart my skin and sinew and burrowing into the bones beneath, trying to puzzle apart the puzzle of me.
Aware of the heavy attention of her eyes, I shifted and looked away. Trying to distract myself, I let my eyes wander across the room. There were two couches and an easy chair, a table with six chairs and
a maroon runner down its center, tassels draping over both edges. A clock whose hands were leaping dolphins. On one wall there was a map, on another a Renaissance-style painting by an artist whose scribbled name I couldn’t read from this far away. All the windows were shuttered, which was comforting in its own small way. Diagonal from me was the entryway and arch I had come through, and if I looked just past Grandmother Rose—which I didn’t do, for fear of meeting her eyes—there was a staircase running upward, and past it a shadowed hallway.
“There are three doors out, in case you’re wondering about escape routes,” Grandmother Rose said suddenly.
I did my very best to quickly look as if I hadn’t been doing just that.
“The front door, which you came in. The back door, there at the foot of the stairs––” she pointed, and squinting, I noticed there was a door hiding in the shadows past the bottom of the staircase “—and the side door, which lets out from the kitchen.” She gave me a knowing smile. “But you shouldn’t be needing to escape, I promise. Everyone in Symbiosia has already been notified of your arrival, and our citizens are sworn to your protection.”
Alarm dropped like a lead weight into my stomach. “You told them I’m here?” I asked, incredulity making my voice weak. “Even the vampires?”
Rose looked confused. “Yes. Of course. Did you intend to keep your identity secret?”
“I mean—well, I certainly wasn’t going to . . . .”
“Did you think no one would wonder, Valx?” Grandmother Rose shrugged at the ridiculousness of my assumptions. “Everyone who lives in Symbiosia is screened through an improbably rigorous process,” she said, leaning forward in her chair to pin me with her keen blue eyes. “There are no casual visitors. Everyone knows everyone. If I hadn’t told them who you were I’d have inquiries and suspicions flocking to my door in droves. Besides.” She settled back in her rocking chair, drawing a quilt over her lap. “You have a very . . . . ah, unique scent. Your blood, you know.” Grandmother Rose rubbed her fingers in from of her nose. “It’s telling.”
