A Shade of Vampire 73: A Search for Death

by Forrest, Bella

  Silence settled over us. I tried to envision that moment. I couldn’t ignore the sympathy I felt toward Death. Imagining what that must’ve been like, I sort of understood her plight and, most importantly, her shame. An entity as powerful and as timeless as her, bested by a ruthless Hermessi. It didn’t seem that far-fetched now.

  “By the time I sprang to my feet, she’d vanished,” Death continued. She gave Lumi an apologetic smile. “I don’t know what she did with it. Rest assured, I’ve searched for it, for thousands of years. I’ve had my Reapers search for it, as well. We’ve yet to find it. Chances are she broke it into its three pieces, since she couldn’t destroy it. This was the only way she could stop me from intervening again.”

  “And she spent the past four million years awake, grooming the newer Hermessi into her cult and waiting for the many others to awaken with the Blackout,” the Word concluded, nodding slowly. “You said Brendel cannot destroy Thieron.”

  Death shook her head. “It’s an extension of me. It’s impossible. They’re just natural elements. They cannot do anything with Thieron, either. They can’t use it.”

  “She broke it into three pieces?” the Word asked.

  “I made my scythe a long time ago, brother, and imbued it with the most intense and dangerous parts of my nature. The way you see me now is… how shall I put it? The basic version. I cannot move with as much ease as I did before, but I have mobility. I can select Reapers the moment they’re born, and I can punish them. My attention span is, sadly, shorter. I cannot kill my Reapers, but they can kill one another, at least, if they have to. I do advocate for peaceful discussion, but sometimes, all that’s left is violence.”

  “You cannot kill ghouls, either, then,” I said.

  She shook her head again. “I would’ve wiped them all out by now. I’d let some of them live, four million years ago. I’d been curious, at the time, as to what they would become. They bore and irritate me right now, but they’re the least of my problems. I cannot kill the Hermessi, either. Imagine that. Death, unable to inflict death herself.”

  “You have four Hermessi posted outside your door,” the Word replied. “How did that happen?”

  Death grinned. “I cannot kill them, but the ones I get my hands on… well, let’s just say I can still coerce them, depending on how strong they are. Mortis was almost destroyed during the previous ritual. These four were made shortly afterward, when I retreated here. They’ve yet to betray me, and they were young and impressionable enough to serve me from the beginning. Times have changed, though, and I’m pretty sure at least one of them has been sympathizing with Brendel’s cause. I suppose they’ll skip out on me eventually, but until then, I’m pleased with their service.”

  “What about the three pieces?” the Word asked.

  “Yes. Thieron was made from three elements, each bearing its own name. Eirexis, the handle, is made from the bone of a stone dragon. They’re extinct now, but they used to terrorize millions of worlds in the Supernatural Dimension. I was quite fond of them, and I reaped them myself whenever one of them died. I remember crying when I took the last one. Even Death cannot interfere in the natural order, you see, not without potentially dire repercussions.”

  Eira cleared her throat. “What does Eirexis do? You said you imbued them with some of your powers.”

  “Ah, she has a voice!” Death chuckled. “You don’t need to know what the pieces do, my darling. Now, Zetos, the blade: that was made from tibisium, an indestructible metal I harvested when the In-Between was still a child. I found tibisium on most of the younger planets, closer to their cores. I think one might still find it in that twenty-planet solar system that GASP has been looking for,” she continued, smiling at me. “You see, that cluster isn’t just the ritual’s location, chosen by the Hermessi. It’s also one of the richest planet systems ever born. You’ll find resources there, valuable and powerful, not seen anywhere else in the In-Between.”

  My mind was saturated with new information, yet I was hungry for more. Everything she was telling us opened new doors to incredible opportunities for exploration—chances we’d miss, unless we stopped this ritual.

  “Phyla is, perhaps, the most valuable,” Death added. “The gemstone that is mounted on Zetos. It’s home to Supreme Death, the one ability I need to destroy the Hermessi, and the only one you’re allowed to know about, now, to make you understand its importance. There have been tales written about me over the eons. Some might have survived to this day, in worlds that your GASP friends have yet to discover. They’ll tell you more about Thieron and its components… if you live past this ritual, that is. You won’t, unless you stop it. What a conundrum.” She laughed bitterly.

  “It won’t affect you, so why should you care, right?” I snapped, anger taking over my self-control and tearing it to shreds. “You’ve been holed up in here for millions of years, not giving a crap, right? Who cares if we all die, right? You can keep sulking here…”

  “Again with the tone,” Death replied dangerously. “Why did I just go to the trouble of telling you about Thieron, Taeral? Because I like entertaining uninvited guests?!”

  Lumi looked at me. “She wants you to help her. She just isn’t very good at asking for help.”

  My heart stopped for a moment as the realization caught up with me. “Oh… okay. Yes. We’re in. We’ll help. Yes! If you need Thieron back to stop the Hermessi, we’ll do it. We’ll do whatever it takes! We can use the pink waters to take us straight to their locations.”

  Death smirked. “You make it sound so easy. It doesn’t work like that. The pieces are protected by ancient, powerful magical. You won’t be able to use the pink waters for this one, I’m afraid.”

  “Nothing about this is easy,” Eira chimed in. “But it’s the only chance we’ve got.”

  Death leaned back into her throne, measuring each of us from head to toe. “You’ve gotten yourself quite the merry band of supernatural creatures, dear brother. But the universe does work in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?”

  “Our brothers and sisters will likely agree,” the Word replied, drawing my attention.

  “Brothers and sisters?” I asked, trying to imagine what the siblings of Death and the Word would be like.

  “The universe is fueled by a number of forces, Taeral,” the Word explained. “Myself, Death, and a few others, above the Hermessi. The currents that put everything in motion, that birth stars and clump chunks of rock and metal together to form planets. I’m afraid it’s far above your level of comprehension. You should, perhaps, focus on Thieron for now.”

  Dry-swallowing, I nodded slowly. “Like I said, we’re in.”

  “Let this be official, then,” Death said. “You deliver Thieron back to me, and I will stop the ritual. My spoken word is a binding contract which I cannot avoid or undo.”

  My wrist burned. Eira hissed from the pain. I heard Lumi’s skin sizzle. In an instant, a symbol appeared on our wrists—an uneven spiral, about three inches wide, drawn in what looked like glimmering red ink.

  “A blood pact, sister? Do you not trust my student and her friends to carry the mission to the end?” the Word asked, sounding slightly offended.

  Death cocked her head to the side. “I’m well aware of the nature of mortals. I’m just making sure they do the job they’ve signed up to do. I really want my Thieron back, and… well, the blood pact stops them from dying until they deliver it to me.”

  “Whoa… wait, what?” I croaked, my pulse throbbing in my ears.

  “I’ll make it clear. The sooner you find and bring Thieron back to me, the bigger the chances of me stopping the ritual,” Death said. “Should you fail, and should the ritual happen, you, Eira, and Lumi will not die until you finish this assignment. Until you recover Thieron for me. I can’t come fetch it for you—its absence has weakened me enough to keep me here, on Mortis. I won’t do your job for you. I need to see for myself how determined you are. How far you’ll go to save your world. But Thieron back in my posse
ssion is what I care about the most. Even if it means you three will live, while everyone else you know and love dies in the ritual.”

  My blood curdled at the thought of such a scenario. For a moment, part of me wondered what I’d gotten us into. Eira gave me a troubled stare, as if asking, “Is she for real?” What could I say to that? Yes, yes, she was. Death was absolutely for real, and she’d just bound us into an unbreakable agreement. We had to find Thieron sooner, rather than later—if we didn’t, not only would our worlds die, but we’d be there to see it, to live past it and spend who knew how much time in absolute misery, still searching for Death’s scythe.

  Failure was certainly no longer an option. And the thought terrified me more than the ritual itself.

  Eira

  I’d never, even in my wildest dreams, thought I’d be standing here.

  Every minute that passed while Death and the Word conversed about the state of things, I found myself wondering which decisions throughout the course of my life had led me to this place, to this incredible moment.

  For most of my life, I’d lived for my career. I loved the military; I couldn’t live without the action, the excitement, the firm discipline, and the honor that came with my job. I’d suspected my origins since before Taeral and his friends had made it to Cerix. I’d shared those thoughts with Inalia, too, though she’d been less inclined to embrace her nature at the time. Weird had always been on my menu, just never in such astronomic quantities.

  I’d joined Taeral on this mission for two important reasons. One, I’d had little choice, as Inalia had insisted that I leave Cerix with him, thus stopping the other Hermessi from putting additional pressure on my father, Acquis. Two, I wanted to be here, even though I’d been terrified and baffled at first. I wanted my spot on this quest to stop the elementals from destroying our worlds. My mother needed me to protect her, and I was useless back on Cerix, given all these developments.

  There was also a third reason, one that I’d only recently become aware of. To most, it might not have mattered as much as it did to me… but I was fond of Taeral and everyone on his team. I had nothing but respect and admiration for each and every one of them. They’d earned my affection, and I couldn’t bring myself to let them go through this alone.

  In the end, my presence here made a lot of sense. After all, I was a Hermessi child. I had a say in this cluster-fumble that the Hermessi had gotten us into. Even so, my brain had trouble processing this reality. It was surreal, to say the least, that I was smack in the middle of an audience with Death. Mind-boggling, yes, but also my new reality.

  My wrist itched where Death had marked me. It scared me the most, knowing that I had no choice but to find Thieron as fast as possible, for the repercussions were unimaginable. Not only would I lose my mother, my friends, my new allies, and my world, but I would also be forced to bear witness to it all. I’d live past it, until my mission for Death was over.

  Dread was quick to grip my stomach in its claws, but I quickly acclimated myself to the urgency of this new and unexpected situation. Taking a deep breath and finding solace in Taeral’s touch, I looked at Death. “Understood. We will find Thieron and bring it back to you. Those are the terms, and we cannot change them. We know better than to mess with a timeless power such as yourself. I also know that you’re doing this for a reason.”

  “And what reason is that, little Hermessi girl?” Death asked, somewhat amused.

  “You’re testing us. You want to see if we’ve got the juice and the drive to do what you and your Reapers couldn’t pull off for thousands of years,” I replied. It irked her to hear this, but she’d made a pact with us. She couldn’t undo it; she’d said so herself. Pissing Death off was no longer a potentially deadly affair—at least not for Taeral, Lumi, or me. Besides, she needed to be told these things. Millions of years of isolation and frustration couldn’t have been good to her psyche.

  “You know, you aren’t the first ones who came to me with this quest in mind,” Death said, wearing a cold smirk. “Unlike your predecessors, however, I’ve decided that binding you to life would be a sensible way to ensure you will finish your job.”

  She was trying to mess with our heads, since she couldn’t kill us or hurt us, but Taeral was quick to pick up on the new intel she’d dropped. “Others have found you here?” he asked.

  “About a million years ago, if not longer. Plenty of warriors from worlds aware of Thieron and me made their way to Mortis and tried to help me. Not to stop the Hermessi, of course, since they weren’t a threat at the time. They wanted my favor, and retrieving Thieron had seemed like a good way to get it,” Death explained.

  “How did these ancient warriors know that Thieron has been missing?” Taeral asked.

  Death took a moment to answer that. “Some of my Reapers had loose tongues. They’ve been removed since.”

  “The Reapers?” I asked.

  “No, darling. The tongues,” Death replied dryly. “Anyway, you’ve got your work cut out for you. No one passed down any of their knowledge from previous quests. Obviously, none of these warriors made it back with my Thieron, either. I hope the gift I’ve bestowed upon you will make things easier.” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I do wish I’d thought of binding them. Perhaps the thought of living longer than the people they all loved would’ve made them more effective.”

  “You’re digressing, sister,” the Word said. “And you are not telling us everything we need to know.”

  “What else do you want?!” Death snapped. “Brendel took my Thieron and dismantled it into three pieces, which she hid somewhere in the universe, across dimensions! They need to find them and bring them back to me—oh.” She paused, then giggled. “You’re right. I did forget something. Getting the pieces back won’t be easy.”

  “What do you mean?” Taeral asked.

  “I’ve fused my three most trusted lieutenants to the pieces of Thieron. The first three Reapers I ever created, beings almost as old and as timeless as I am,” Death replied. “They will test you before they even let you take the pieces back.”

  “Way to bury the lead,” Taeral grumbled, crossing his arms. “How come they didn’t stop Brendel from taking Thieron in the first place, then?”

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that. They were awakened only when Thieron was dismantled. Brendel was quick to toss them away afterward, I presume,” Death said. “But, once the pieces were dropped, the Reapers I tasked with protecting them would have refused to allow anyone to touch them.”

  Taeral sighed. “What are we looking at, exactly?”

  “Well, that should be part of the fun, shouldn’t it?” Death grinned.

  “This isn’t fun for us. We’re trying to save our worlds,” I cut in, increasingly aggravated. She was still messing with us, and, while I understood the caprices of a godlike entity, it didn’t mean any of us had the time or the energy to put up with it.

  “Sister, please,” the Word added.

  Death nodded once, seemingly surrendering to her brother’s request. “The Widow Maker lives inside Eirexis. The Soul Crusher resides in Zetos. The Phantom is in Phyla. Each of them has been tasked with using their most precious assets and abilities to challenge anyone who would dare touch the three pieces of Thieron. I cannot tell you what they will do, exactly, because I don’t know. I’ve left it to them. I trusted them to be creative and perseverant enough to protect my scythe until the end of time, in the event that I might lose possession of it… regardless of the reason.”

  “So that’s it? Good luck and farewell?” Taeral mumbled. I could almost feel the anger coursing through his veins as his grip on my hand tightened.

  Death shrugged. “I know you’re used to being told everything prior to a mission, Taeral, but I’m afraid it won’t be like this with me. You either adapt or you die.”

  “You don’t know where Thieron’s pieces are, and you don’t know what your three most loyal and powerful Reapers will do once the pieces are found,” the
Word said. “Perhaps, in exchange for these monumental gaps in information, sister, you might at least be able to tell Taeral the truth about the weapon in his possession. I believe it’s your duty to lay out the truth about it, since it’s the only tool he has that may yield better results than those you’ve sent after Thieron before.”

  Taeral and I exchanged confused glances, before questioningly looking back at Death and the Word. “What am I missing here?” Taeral asked, raising Yamani’s scythe. “Are you talking about this?”

  Lumi nodded, wearing a soft and glowing smile. Death, by contrast, was almost black and white, with nothing but her red lips to give her color. She was also quite sullen, but still a wonder to look at. Part of me wanted to slap her silly for her moodiness, but the rest of me wanted to worship her.

  “Look down, Taeral,” Death said.

  He did. His eyes widened with shock. I followed his gaze and noticed how different his reflection was. I looked like myself, mirrored in the black marble, but Taeral… He didn’t have his GASP suit on, but a black leather tunic with a white collar and decorative details embroidered across his chest. In his hand, he carried a scythe, but it didn’t look like Yamani’s. Its handle was made from obsidian, encrusted with fiery gemstones, and the blade was much longer and wider. We were seeing another version of Taeral in that reflection, but none of us knew why.

  “What is this?” Taeral murmured, unable to look up.

  “That is you, once you die,” Death replied. “You see, Taeral, I have a system in place, and the truth of it is always revealed in my presence. My Reapers are selected from the moment they are born, based on a series of calculations and probabilities. It’s not a question of what great things they achieve during their lifetimes—well, not necessarily, not anymore. It used to be more important, but after I let the senior Reapers handle the selection process, which we all know to have turned out badly, I decided to change the selection criteria. It has become a matter of bloodlines and character, rather than anything else. And you, my darling, the rare son of a fae and a jinni, were chosen. When your life in this world comes to an end, you will become a Reaper.”