A Shade of Vampire 79: A Game of Death

by Forrest, Bella

  Fear twinkled in the Rimian’s brown eyes, but he didn’t exhibit any other reaction. At first glance, he seemed completely stoic, but I did wonder if he’d be the same once I was done with him—not to mention Kalon, who was already itching for revenge.

  Fifelle showed up in the doorway, gasping with surprise. “Ah. He’s awake,” she said, then narrowed her eyes at me. “Now, get out of my house!”

  “Do you know a safe place where we can go?” I asked Kalon while he was pulling the Rimian up to his feet with just one hand.

  Kalon sighed and hurled him over his shoulder, ripping a shocked and muffled yelp from the guy as Kalon carried him out like a sack of potatoes. Fifelle got out of our way, eyeing us carefully.

  “There’s an abandoned residence not far from here, as it happens,” Kalon grumbled, his boots thudding down the wooden steps. “Is there a back exit?”

  “Around the stairs, blue door,” Fifelle replied from above. She stayed behind, still trembling because of our unexpected presence. I felt sorry for her, but she was going to be okay. She could’ve had it much, much worse. She could’ve gotten hurt in the melee.

  We made our way out of the house and into a dark back alley. We heard people on the other side—silver guards shouting, locals whispering. There was no sign of the Red Threads, but I knew there could very well still be eyes looking for us, wondering where we’d gone. It was only a matter of time before they’d find us, if we stayed here.

  “So, what about that abandoned residence?” I asked Kalon, who led the way through the maze of narrow and shaded side streets. The Rimian kept moaning and trying to talk, but we both ignored him.

  “It’s where I used to live before my father died,” Kalon replied.

  “Oh… And it’s abandoned?”

  He didn’t answer right away, but I felt sad for him. I could only imagine what losing a parent was like. Tristan and I had both been fortunate in this respect. “We burned it down. It was infected by Black Fever.”

  “How can a house be infected?” I replied, startled and confused.

  We made a sharp left turn, then a couple more to the right, until we reached a small and seemingly deserted cul-de-sac. All the houses here had been burned down many years ago. Only their structural beams and some of the walls remained, all blackened by the fire. Dust and dirt gathered in every crevice, and there was a general sense of loneliness coming out of this place.

  At the very end, a mansion still stood in better condition than the houses. Part of its tiled roof was still up, though barely hanging. It would likely collapse at the first earthly tremor. The main door was off its hinges, but I could still see its sturdy brass knocker. For a moment, I imagined a younger Kalon living here, laughing with his siblings… long before tragedy had come knocking on their door.

  “He died in there. His blood seeped into the wood floors. It was too risky to try and clean the whole place up, since the virus is quite resilient, even after it loses its host. For us, it was dangerous. So our mother decided to burn it down. Everyone on this block was relocated,” Kalon explained.

  What a terrible disease, to not only kill a father, but also to drive entire families from their homes, plumes of black smoke rising behind them. My heart broke just from thinking about it.

  He carried the Rimian up the steps and carefully moved past the fallen door, into the darkness. I followed him in, momentarily hypnotized by the rays of afternoon sunlight that cut through the blackness, slipping through broken windows and punctured walls.

  “This was your home,” I murmured, looking around as I adjusted to the obscurity around us. I had a hard time picturing a younger Kalon running through these halls, now. There was so much pain and death embedded in the walls, persisting in the dry air… refusing to let go.

  “It was, yes,” Kalon replied. He dumped the Rimian on the hardwood floor, parts of which were missing or broken, partially burnt in the fire. Tying his prisoner’s arms around what had once been a decorative lobby column, Kalon removed the gag. The Rimian licked his crusty lips and cursed under his breath. “Welcome to my humble abode, whoever you may be.”

  “I will rip your eyes out!” the Rimian spat.

  “Whoa there, rowdy ass. Can you not see you’re tied up? The only one doing any eye-ripping today is me, and it’s those two in your sockets that I’ve got my heart set on,” I replied, approaching him with a menacing stride.

  Kalon looked at me, partially amused, but played along, as I’d decided to be the bad cop. I kicked the Rimian in the shins, almost breaking his bones, and he cried out from the pain. Beads of sweat quickly erupted and trickled down his face.

  “You’re one of the Red Threads, aren’t you?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer, choosing to stare down at the floor instead. It just made me more irritable, so I kicked him again—this time in the knees, dislocating one of his kneecaps. “You crazy bitch!” the Rimian bawled, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re insane! You’re mental!”

  I raised the braided red leather thread. “I’m going to start breaking bones now, unless you answer my questions.”

  “Dude, I’d take her seriously if I were you.” Kalon chuckled, his mood improving somewhat. I had a feeling he got a kick out of watching me beat up an assassin—particularly one from the same crew responsible for the dart in his back.

  “Hold your woman back!” the Rimian hissed. “I have nothing to tell you!”

  “Your woman?” I repeated, frowning at Kalon, who gave me an innocent shrug.

  “What? His assumption, not mine.”

  I breathed out and crouched before the Rimian. Extending my claws, I slashed them across his face, drawing three deep red lines. He grimaced, causing blood to flow in fine threads along his cheeks. “Let’s try this again. You’re a member of the Red Thread faction, Rimians in cahoots with the Darklings. Correct?”

  He still wouldn’t answer, so I gifted him with another set of bleeding lines, forming a sinister triple X on his face, his skin cut open, its edges glistening scarlet and pink. If I went any deeper, I was bound to reveal the cheekbones, too.

  “I have no control whatsoever over this fine predator,” Kalon said. “I wouldn’t want to, to be honest. Look at how feisty and feral she is. Do you really think I’d be able to tame her? My friend, you should start talking before she cuts deeper. Much deeper.”

  The Rimian flinched when I raised my hand again, but he paid attention to Kalon’s advice. “Incorrect,” he mumbled, licking blood from the corner of his mouth.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “We’re not in cahoots with the Darklings. That’s just one of many rumors about us.”

  “But you’re from the Red Thread faction,” I concluded, and he nodded in response. “Okay. Why did you attack us?”

  “We’ve been following you since whispers came from the palace that you were looking for us, along with the Darklings. We wanted to clear the air and get the facts straight with you, before someone gets killed,” the Rimian replied.

  “Were the poisonous darts part of your effort to clear the air?” I asked, my tone clipped.

  “We weren’t going to kill you! We were just going to talk to you.”

  Kalon laughed, mockingly throwing his head back. “Right. Sure. Well, since you’re here, by all means, knock yourself out. Talk.”

  “Talk, before I cut you a new one,” I hissed at the Rimian.

  “A new what?” he replied, slightly confused. That elicited another bout of laughter from Kalon. I shot him a cold gaze, too, trying to keep the conversation on topic, before I brought my claws closer to the Rimian’s throat. “Okay… Okay! What do you want to know?”

  “What does the Red Thread faction want?” I asked, peering into his frightened brown eyes. I’d finally gotten to him. I could tell.

  “There’s an uprising coming, among our people. We’re tired of the Aeternae’s imperialism. We’re pushing for freedom,” he said. “Rimia is growing restless, but few people kno
w that here. The master commander has been sending soldiers to my home planet, looking to stifle the growing rebellion. We’re merely trying to do what we can from here.”

  Kalon was visibly disturbed by the revelation. “What you can? Like what? Trying to kill me, the son of the high priestess?”

  “Well, we were hoping to take you hostage, actually. Hence the darts,” the Rimian replied.

  I smacked him in the cheek, causing more blood to pour from his cuts. “Well, that clearly didn’t work out so well. Also, you started off with a bold-faced lie, and it’s not going to help you further down the road. Listen, we’ve got people at the palace accusing you of working with the Darklings, and I want to know everything you know about those bastards, because they killed my friend. I’m out for blood, and my tolerance levels are dismal.”

  The Rimian dry-swallowed, staring at me. “We are not working with the Darklings. They’ve got something else entirely going on. We’re trying to get to them, to break them from within. As far as we’re concerned, they’re the enemy.”

  “What else do they have, as you say, going on?” I asked.

  “It’s a bit hard to explain.”

  “Try,” I snapped, raising my clawed hand again.

  “The Black Fever! They’re trying to stop the Black Fever!” The Rimian whimpered. “It’s a rumor, at least. It’s what I heard. That one of their main objectives is to stop the Black Fever from spreading. We know it’s coming again because the Darklings are mobilizing sooner and faster than before. We’ve seen them out in the streets, and near the orphanage and other gathering spots. It didn’t take a genius to put it together.”

  “This doesn’t make much sense. Why would they keep going after Valaine, then?” Kalon replied, shaking his head. “She’s an Aeternae. Part of the ruling class. Not to mention all the other Aeternae they’ve killed over the years.”

  The Rimian sighed deeply, aching from his position against the column. “Word has it the Darklings offer up the life of an Aeternae as a sacrifice, and that it usually stops the plague from wiping all of them out.”

  “What?” I croaked. “How the hell is Valaine’s death going to stop the Black Fever? It’s an actual disease. Sacrifices are so primitive! What are these Darklings thinking?”

  “I don’t know. But they spend considerable amounts of time and resources to find the right Aeternae, every time. Every fifteen thousand years they do this. The attacks, the killings, they usually spike before the Black Fever breaks out. Then, once it fades, the Darklings fall back into the shadows. We’ve theorized that they kill the wrong people, frequently, looking for that right Aeternae… It’s likely they’re after Valaine now because they think that if they sacrifice her, it’ll stop the Black Fever,” the Rimian explained.

  I looked at Kalon, and he was as outraged and as befuddled as me. “Are they insane? A murderous cult?” I asked.

  “Well, they’re definitely not the anarchists we thought they were,” Kalon muttered.

  “And the Red Threads? What are you up to?” I asked the Rimian.

  “I told you. We’re revolutionaries. I’m telling the truth. We were going to kidnap Lord Kalon here for ransom. We need funding for weapons.”

  Kalon and I exchanged an intrigued glance, before I moved my attention back to the Rimian. “What about Nethissis? What do you know about her death?”

  “Who’s Nethissis?” the Rimian asked.

  “Our witch friend. Copper hair, yellow eyes…”

  He nodded slowly. “Right. I’ve seen her. But I don’t know. Where was she killed? And how?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out, as well. We found her in the palace gardens,” I said.

  The Rimian scoffed, visibly disgusted. “That place is teeming with Darklings, and most people don’t even know it. They’re impossible to detect. As for your friend, I honestly have no information. But if she was killed by Darklings, then she probably saw or heard something she shouldn’t have. Otherwise they would’ve let her be. If there’s one thing I know about the Darklings, whoever they are, it’s that they do not kill without reason. They’re always looking for sacrifices to the Black Fever. Call it a cult, if you will. Their faith demands blood.”

  I wasn’t entirely satisfied with his answers, but I also knew he couldn’t give me more. His heartbeats were steady, his pulse even and strong. There was no deception in his response. This was all he knew, and it bothered me for two important reasons: one, it didn’t bring me any closer to Nethissis’s murderer, and two, it merely verified that Valaine was the Darklings’ target. That put my brother at risk, as well, since the two had become more or less inseparable since last night’s attack.

  “This isn’t good,” I said, getting up and turning my back on the Rimian. Kalon joined me, equally concerned.

  “What do you think?” he asked, leaning closer.

  “He’s telling the truth,” I replied. “But it’s not helping much, is it?”

  “We know they’ll keep going after Valaine,” Kalon said. “They won’t stop until she’s dead. I reckon our only chance to figure out who the Darklings are is if we capture one of them alive.”

  “What about the Red Thread here?” I whispered.

  “Oh, he’s liable to be charged with treason. He’ll have to surrender his friends to avoid the death penalty, at best,” Kalon said. “Conspiring against the Aeternae, trying to kidnap me… both capital offenses.”

  We turned around to face the Rimian again, only—he was gone. His ropes were loose, the ends cut neatly with a blade.

  I gasped. “Crap.”

  Something moved at the back, through the darkness. A door opened, light pouring through as the Rimian escaped. My heart started thumping, angry in its rhythm, as I realized he’d played us. While we’d been interrogating him, he’d been working on his ties, likely using a blade he must’ve kept up his sleeve or something. I had not thought to check his sleeves, nor his boots. This was a terrible mistake.

  “Come on!” Kalon said. “We need to get him!”

  He dashed across the hall and bolted through the back door. But this was supposed to be the end of a cul-de-sac. Where was the Rimian going? I remembered seeing a tall wall behind the house, but I doubted he had the ability to jump over it, especially after I’d dislocated one of his kneecaps.

  It dawned on me then that he’d probably gone around the house, so I ran back out through the front door. I saw him at the beginning of the alley, limping slightly, and I heard Kalon behind the mansion.

  “Kalon!” I shouted. “Out here!”

  Seconds later, he joined me, and we ran after the Rimian. Neither of us was done with him. He could still give us useful intel about the Darklings—and, as far as Kalon was concerned, about the Red Thread faction, too. I had no interest in getting involved in going against a revolutionary movement, but Kalon and I shared a common goal in this Rimian.

  Finding out as much as we could about the Darklings, so we could wipe them out, once and for all. I was also dying to learn more about their weird, sacrifice-demanding faith. Where the heck had that come from? What exactly had powered it into such a bloody practice? And was there any truth behind it? Would an Aeternae sacrifice truly stop the Black Fever?

  Tristan

  We left two of the golden guards to handle the scene at Egan’s house. The children had yet to learn of what had happened, and that made my insides clench, but there wasn’t much we could do. Valaine and I had to keep moving and head back to the palace.

  “We haven’t gotten much out of today, huh?” I asked Valaine as we made our way down the alley. She pointed to the very end.

  “If we go left there, it’ll take us around a Nalorean neighborhood. It’s quieter than most. You’ll like it,” she said, avoiding my question. A dark look had settled on her face, casting shadows over her almost-black eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Valaine?”

  A bitter smile fluttered across her lips. “Where do I begin? Thrice now, the Darklings h
ave tried to kill me. Two of my attackers were people I knew personally. I grew up with Egan, and I never even saw it coming… not to mention his wife.”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this, you know. If there’s one thing I actually take pride in being good at, it’s my ability to investigate events like this. My sister and I once had to figure out what happened to an ancient tribal chief, having only his bones, his hut, and the accounts of his people, passed down from generation to generation… and we did it. I think we’ve got this.”

  “I hope so. I don’t fear for my safety, but I do worry they’ll hurt other people I’m fond of, either by attacking them or by coercing them, like they did with Egan and his wife.” Valaine sighed.

  We turned left at the end of the alley and found ourselves in an otherworldly place. A quaint little neighborhood with dark blue houses and white-framed windows, pots of flowers and neatly trimmed shrubs everywhere.

  “We know more now than we did a few hours ago, if you think about it,” I said.

  She nodded. “We know the network runs deep, not only in the palace and among the gold guards, but also beyond it… and that members of the higher class of Aeternae are involved.”

  “We also know they killed Nethissis,” I replied. “I will stand by that until proven otherwise.”

  “This is insane,” she murmured. “And to think my life was actually quiet and relatively boring before you came along.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I hope you’re not blaming our arrival for any of this.”

  “No! No, not at all,” Valaine said, briefly touching my forearm in a bid to reassure me. The gesture was so light and instinctive, she didn’t even realize she’d done it until she pulled her hand back, eyes wide with self-surprise. “I just… Troubles never come one at a time. They come together, to test you.”