Loyalty

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “No because I feel the same way.”

  “Well, I can’t figure out what this means.”

  “Our secret is in more danger than we realized.”

  “How so?”

  “Mortals finding out about us means panic and a new enemy at our throats.”

  “Ugh, that’s the last thing we need.”

  “Yet, you will have to face it one day,” a voice says from behind the vampires. They whirl around to find a white-haired man in a sleeping gown reading at the table, his glasses threatening to fall off his face. “Imagine my surprise when one of my alert spells brought me here and I found two mysteries researching themselves. That does make my job easier, but it puts me in a difficult position. Not to mention I feel horribly underdressed for the occasion. How about you put all of our beloved books back and we’ll work from there? Besides, you have already lost if you try to fight me.”

  “If it’s a trap then you’re in it with us,” Mab points out with a smirk. Seeing how the man casually yawns, she drops her proud façade and goes about cleaning the mess. “So humiliating getting caught in the act and backed into a corner. Haven’t felt this way since I messed up a marketplace heist during my mortal years. So, what rank do you have in this place? Can’t be very high if you’re on night duty.”

  “Careful with your words, Mab,” Clyde whispers, his eyes never straying from the friendly human. Walking to the table, he leans forward in an attempt to intimidate the man, but gets no reaction. “This isn’t just anyone. He wrote that book, which is what had the alarm spell instead of the nook. You were waiting for me or someone who knows me to come looking at your archives. There’s a lot of holy magic coming off you, but I sense something else that I can’t put my finger on. Who are you?”

  “A friend of a friend,” the man replies as he stands. His body flickers momentarily, which causes the vampires to step away and bare their fangs. “Sorry about that. Obviously, I’m not foolish enough to physically be here, but another reason for this form is because I am waiting in a more comfortable setting. Please let my phantom show you to a private chamber where we will await a fourth party. My name is Huntley Pyodorus and I am the third high priest of Gar the Knowledge Lord. Welcome to our library, Dawn Fangs, and I hope that you leave here with the answers you seek.”

  Clyde cautiously eyes the man who has reclaimed a more solid form. “Eh, what’s the worst that can happen? Lead the way.”

  13

  Clyde and Mab remain in the arched doorway, their eyes locked on the bizarre scene before them. The circular room has a pillow-like floor, which requires that everyone remove their shoes and walk carefully. A table sits in the middle of the squishy stones and is kept stable by a central pillar that resembles a stack of wooden books. In order for a person to get what they want from the small feast, they need to either rotate the top or move the segmented pieces around to bring them the desired dish. Empty bookshelves in various degrees of disrepair have been arranged like pieces of art, each one painted a unique pattern. A small hatch is on the back wall with a sign suggesting that people check books for personal belongings before entering a submission. Even with all these curiosities, the oddest sight is Huntley sitting with a cup of tea in his manicured hand and laughing at Gregorio’s stories. The vampiric gnome and the high priest repeatedly stop to pull out pieces of paper and take notes, but the pauses never break the flow of their friendly conversation. The pair wave for the others to join them and blindly gesture towards the dishes that range from bowls of blood to a tower of caramel-dipped strawberries.

  An amber shimmer coats the room for a brief moment once Clyde and Mab finally step inside. For a second, they fear that their blood has stopped flowing and their heartbeats have been stolen. The unnerving sensation passes quickly and they decide it is nothing more than anxiety caused by being so close to a high priest. While Huntley is not the first holy leader the thieves have ever encountered, he is the only one in hundreds of years to greet them with a meal instead of combat spells. Gregorio’s presence helps them relax, but it is difficult to stay calm when they constantly feel like they are defenseless and exposed. Sitting at opposite sides of the table, they each claim some blood even though they really want to try the desserts.

  “I would not put it out for you if I didn’t wish for you to eat it,” Huntley says with a genuine smile. Manipulating the table, he puts the strawberries in front of Mab and a hot chocolate soup in front of Clyde. “My old friend here told me what you might like. I apologize that we don’t have much to offer. Most of our supplies have gone to the celebration. Fascinating how you can blush, young lady, since that certainly proves you have a blood flow. Not to mention emotions that one typically doesn’t find in undead, including vampires. Your people have been prone to more powerful emotions like lust and rage, but the more nuanced ones typically come off as you going through the motions. I mean, your old self would know a situation where you should be embarrassed, which would cause a conscious response. What you did just now was a natural reflex.”

  “Yes, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the Dawn Fangs regaining some of their true humanity,” Gregorio interjects, his mouth full of cake. He washes it down with his drink, which is a pungent rum mixed with sprite blood. “Now, my theory is that we are developing the ability to blend in with mortal society. It makes sense since the world has changed and we need to find a new way to survive. The Dawn Fangs have the ability to eat real food, are regaining emotions, have a heartbeat, and no longer need to kill for blood. I have already found that I can take a little from a victim and break contact before they die, which means we no longer leave bodies. All of this points to a more civilized vampire.”

  “Clyde being able to transform the rest of you does add to your theory,” the high priest admits, his hands scribbling notes as fast as he can. Feeling drowsy from being up so late, he manipulates the table to claim a cup of coffee and slurps it down in seconds. “Going to pay for that in an hour or so. They never warn you that old age is truly unkind on the bladder, but it isn’t like any of you have to worry. Now, I do wonder what this all means. Is there a clear reason for such a change? These things rarely happen without an ulterior motive by the gods. Yet, we have received no knowledge of the Dawn Fangs and Gabriel isn’t behind this. His followers have made it clear that none of the effects of the Great Cataclysm were part of the Destiny God’s plans. My personal thoughts are that this is an anomaly and you can go in any direction. These can include being a small group on the fringe, becoming the majority of your kind, extinction, or a total integration with mortal society.”

  “I believe it will be something alongside that last option.”

  “That makes sense considering your physiological changes.”

  “The unique powers instead of magic concerns me, old friend.”

  “Perhaps a mutation of your aura?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened, but not to an entire species.”

  “Yes, the Ascended Ones were individuals instead of a cohesive group.”

  Clyde clears his throat and tries to create an illusion of a roaring tiger to get everyone’s attention. Instead, the fake beast flickers into existence on the table and fades away in the blink of an eye. Confused by the failure, he tries again and manages to hold the image for a minute, but it remains silent. Noticing the problem, Mab tries to plunge her arm into a shadow and ends up punching the soft floor. Holding up her hands, she attempts to extend her claws and strains her fingers until all of the joints dislocate. The pair are about to panic when Gregorio whistles a little song and creates an amber orb over his head.

  “I apologize for leaving you out of the conversation and not warning you about the precaution I took,” the gnome states as he juggles the strange ball. He spins it over his head, which causes an amber mesh to peel itself off the entire room. “It would appear that I have the ability to create a field, which negates the powers of other Dawn Fangs. This took a lot of testing
since I could make the barrier with ease, but it is not until this meeting that I was able to prove my theory. Very curious and-”

  “Please tell us what’s going on here,” Clyde growls, his patience running thin.

  “Lord Roman and I are friends, which is why we have been discussing and cataloging all the information about the Dawn Fangs,” Huntley politely explains. Seeing the bewilderment on the younger vampires’ faces, he takes out his holy symbol and dangles it in front of his face. “Have either of you ever met or heard of a Garian hunting vampires? I will admit that we have some who support the holy versus darkness feud of old, but those are a loud minority when compared to the scholarly majority. We don’t even have paladins in the truest sense of the word since we are focused on knowledge instead of battle. In fact, our order has always been fascinated by your kind. Unlike most undead, vampires retain most of their mortal features and habits. You aren’t mindless like zombies or rotting like Liches. It is almost like you are a bridge between the living and the dead. Many of my brothers and sisters have dedicated their lives to uncovering the reason for your existence.”

  “Can’t we just exist because we do?” Mab asks while repeatedly extending and retracting her claws. She spears several of the strawberries and takes a careful bite, her tongue bleeding from getting cut. “Not really sure where we go from here. It doesn’t seem like you know any more about us than we do. Clyde and I wanted information about his transformation, but the books didn’t have anything. Is there anything you happen to know that hasn’t been put in the books?”

  “This is a permanent change and Gar has requested that I write a tome about you,” the high priest declares with a smirk. He reaches under the table and pulls out a book that has fangs embedded in the cover. “We call this a species tome. Every civilized creature has one, which is updated by a single Garian. The Knowledge Lord chooses one he trusts to continue the story even when they have become a spirit and moved on to his castle. He has decided that the Dawn Fangs deserve to have their own story, which means you have gained the interest of the gods. It is strange though because there has been no blessing of Gabriel. One would normally have visions of upcoming destinies, but that is not the case here. Perhaps you exist outside the forces of fate. It has been known to happen from time to time.”

  “None of that is my concern,” Clyde says, his eyes sparking with red. Feeling his temper rising, he licks his lips until he calms down enough to speak. “All I wanted to know is what I’m capable of and if there’s a reason for this. Thank you for telling me that I’m an accident, but one that the gods are willing to accept as entertainment. I’ll put on as good a show as I can, which shouldn’t be too hard with this war. Do you know anything that can help us survive this mess since it seems we have enemies coming from all directions?”

  Gregorio and Huntley share worried looks, the old friends communicating by subtle facial expressions instead of words. The vampire eventually wins the debate, which causes the high priest to get to his feet. Rubbing his lower back, the mortal makes his way to one of the bookcases, but stops to bend over. He continues stretching until everyone hears a loud crack from his spine and he sighs with relief. The man’s next step is a little shaky, but he waves away any offers of help and steadily regains his composure. Reaching behind the colorful furniture, he carefully taps a complicated rhythm on the back and causes his private collection to appear on the slanted shelves. Thumbing through his papers and books, he pulls out a single page and hurries back to drop it in Clyde’s lap. The vampire holds it up and turns it around, but there is nothing written on it.

  “That is everything we know about the Duragian and vampire alliance that Gregorio asked me about last month,” Huntley claims while grinning at his little joke. He lets the crumpled paper bounce off his head, but scrambles to catch it before it falls into his tea. “Those who follow the Sun God and the hunters they employ are certainly working with your enemies. At least that’s what their actions are saying. Yet, every person I’ve interviewed has no knowledge of the alliance. Keep in mind that I went to the top of their order. Such a unity is unthinkable to them since creatures like vampires and liches are considered abominations to the light. Whatever is going on, it’s definitely not an alliance against you.”

  “But they did a full assault on Nyte,” Clyde mutters, more to himself than the others. Getting to his feet, he starts to walk away, but stops to pat the high priest on the shoulder. “I feel weird saying this to someone like you, but thanks for the information. Seems I have to get used to being more human in my interactions. It won’t be easy since part of me still looks at your kind as food, but I’ll work hard to get over that. Do you mind if I hang out on your rooftop until I get my thoughts together?”

  “Rest up there whenever you want,” the mortal replies, confused by the request. He watches the vampire leave and turns around in time to see Mab vanish into a shadow. “Those two are more interesting than you led me to believe, old friend. I can see why you wanted me to pray so hard to Gar and bring his attention to them. There will be an upheaval in both our worlds and it will not be quick or clean. I’ve read enough of Windemere’s history to know when a societal shift is on the horizon.”

  “Good because the vampires have needed one of those for centuries,” Gregorio says, his eyes squinting at the growing light. Putting on his glasses, the gnome grabs a sack and begins tossing food inside for later. “Anyone who meets Clyde can sense that he is more than a gang leader or warrior or whatever he thinks he is. The time is coming when he will have to realize that as well. Not my place to tell him, but I feel certain he will wake up soon. Now, do you have any of this hot chocolate drink and lemonade that some of my more recent meals have talked to me about? There are so many delicacies that I need to try before things get too messy for me to travel freely.”

  *****

  Clyde is unsure if he should scowl or smile when he reaches the roof and finds Mab already sitting on a ledge. The burglar’s legs dangle over the eave while she repeatedly picks seeds out of a pomegranate and flicks them at the guards across the street. Her eyes glow red as she pierces the darkness to watch each projectile stick to the mortals’ helmets and armor. Hitting a knight in the eye, she swiftly rolls backwards and comes up in a crouch at Clyde’s feet. Instead of moving away, she stands up and delivers a gentle elbow to his stomach. The blow is not enough to cause pain, but it knocks the wind from his lungs. He remains standing and grins to hide the fact that she caught him by surprise, his forced expression telling her the truth. Spinning away from her partner, Mab leaps onto the central tine of a statue’s trident and remains balanced on her toes while a gentle breeze whips her dark jacket around like a cape. Pointing at the marble warrior’s head, she waits for Clyde to join her before dropping into the crux of the weapon and dangling upside down.

  Eyeing a nearby shadow, she tries to drop pomegranate seeds into it, but they are unable to pass through without her physically touching the darkness. “This trip raises more questions than answers, which is the last thing we need. Even those voices I keep hearing are getting angry and pushy. Can’t figure out what they’re saying, but I sense the tone. At least they’re more distant when I’m up here. Do you regret that I took you out of the ground?”

  “Better I did it with you by my side than alone,” Clyde answers while grinding his finger against the statue. He stops when he sees that he has made a deep furrow in the marble and creates a simple illusion to hide the damage. “Let’s be honest. I was bound to either be discovered or come out on my own at some point. For no other reason than the gods would have noticed me and sent someone to force me into the light. Weird saying that now and not feeling a lick of fear. I wonder if I’m supposed to bring all of us into this new world.”

  “Sounds even more ridiculous coming out of your mouth,” the burglar says with a friendly smile. Freeing her legs, she pushes off the trident and lands behind Clyde where she comfortably sits against his back. “Say you convert all vampir
es into Dawn Fangs. That wouldn’t stop any of the battles that are going on now. Given the increase in power, it would make them worse. If you’re going to start turning vampires into a new breed then you need to be selective. Create a species that isn’t already mired in the idiotic politics that we hate so much. That’s if you want to do this in the first place. My opinion is that our world is far too messy to create a couple thousand Dawn Fangs. Not unless you want to march across the land and conquer like all those warlords who inevitably fell to destined heroes or their own arrogance.”

  Pushing against his partner, the chuckling vampire can barely imagine himself in such a role. “I always thought those who sought to rule the world were morons. Going that far is just asking for the gods to create a champion to put things back into balance. Maybe that’s what we need to do first. Bring the vampire world into balance before I start making any more of us. That seems like a more relaxing path. Besides, I want answers to what is driving this war because it’s obviously not what we were told.”

  “You think Xavier is lying?”

  “No, but somebody is manipulating all sides.”

  “That person could have ratted you out to the council too.”

  “Just another problem we have to tackle.”

  “This is exactly why I wanted to stick to stealing stuff.”

  “We’ll get back to our roots one day.”

  Repeatedly running through all of their problems in his mind, Clyde finds that his temper is gradually rising. A red sheen coats his vision, but the effect vanishes when he shakes his head and struggles to his feet. Taking Mab by the hand, he jumps to a lower level of the roof and stares through a glass pyramid that shows the archives. Unlike before, the vampires see ghostly librarians drifting through the stacks and adjusting the tomes. The apparitions vanish when the yellow moon is freed from the clouds and pours amber light into the room. Books continue to move, but it is easy to miss the motions without the visible caretakers. Watching everything fall into order, Clyde clenches his fist until three of his fingers break. The snaps are loud enough for the anxious guards below to react with shouts, but they quickly settle down when they cannot figure out the source of the unexpected noise.