by Vance, Ramy
“Thanks!” I yelled as we made it to the treeline. Egya honked his reply.
Once inside, we ran up the middle of the woods. My plan was to get to Beaver Lake, where there were a few buildings for us to break into and hide. I turned to see the angry mob bursting through the treeline. We were only about forty feet ahead of them, but at least, being in this brush, we were out of their line of sight.
“Come on—let’s move,” I whispered.
Deirdre grabbed my arm and stopped me. “No,” she said. “I have a better idea.”
“What are you doing? We’ve got to keep moving,” I said.
But Deirdre didn’t budge. She just placed a calm finger over her lips, shushing me. She faced the road. I could hear the angry mob only yards away. A few more seconds and they’d be parallel with us. All it would take was one of them to look to their right and we’d be sunk.
But Deirdre just stood stock-still, almost defiantly so. I suddenly worried that she was planning to do something stupid and attack the human mob. But Deirdre didn’t attack. She … swooned—as in lightly swayed back and forth, her feet planted firmly in place. Then, fanning out her fingers and twirling them so it looked like she was playing some invisible piano, she began to hum.
“Deirdre! Be quiet,” I whispered harshly, taking a step forward. If she wasn’t going to shut up, I’d have to shut her up.
Egya stopped me. “Kat … look.” He pointed at the ground.
What I saw was nothing short of a miracle.
The earth around us began to move. No, move was the wrong word … moving implies that something shifts from one place to another. The brush didn’t just shift. It grew and expanded and intertwined itself until it formed a canopy in front of us that blocked the view from the road—but what was even more odd was that we could still see the road. Like window blinds, the leaves had angled themselves so we had a one-way view out while blocking the view in. And what was most spectacular about what was happening was the brush didn’t make any noise as it twisted and angled, grew and intertwined.
It was utterly silent.
The angry mob ran past us, completely unaware. I could hear Ponytail call out, “They must be at the lake.” The rallying cry of determined and violent humans followed, and we heard the scamper of feet continue along the path.
After a long minute, the footsteps faded into the darkness, and we were alone.
Deirdre turned to me, smiling, proud of what she’d just done. “Camouflage—fae-style,” she said simply.
I nodded curtly. “How long?”
Deirdre tilted her head to one side in confusion.
“You burnt time, right? To create the magic that did this?”
She nodded.
“How long?”
She didn’t answer.
“How long?” I growled.
“Twelve hours.”
I stared at her. “Twelve hours? Do you know what you can do with twelve hours? And you wasted them—threw that precious time away—and for what? We could have outrun them.”
“Kat,” Egya interjected, “I disagree. We were pretty far away from them for a while, and we’re even farther away now, but they’re still an angry mob. Even outside of the hex. They wouldn’t have let us just run away.”
I looked around at my hapless crew. “That doesn’t justify what Deirdre did, Egya. She wasted twelve hours of her life. For nothing.”
Mergen groaned.
“Shut up—just because you don’t like the taste of something, doesn’t make it a lie.”
Mergen smacked his lips.
“We could have outrun them,” I repeated, my rage bubbling.
Deirdre stared down at the ground.
“Kat,” Egya said. “The girl did what she thought was best. She sacrificed her time to save us. You should be more—”
“What? Grateful? Grateful that I’m on top of a volcano with you? Grateful that someone is trying to kill me? Grateful that my fellow students want to string me up?”
“The hex will wear off by morning.”
“But how do you know? You just said they’re outside the range of the hex. So how do you know?”
Egya’s cold glare was all I got as an answer.
“Fine—it will wear off by morning. What do we do until then?”
Without turning around, Egya pointed up toward the huge neon cross at the top of the hill, to the right of where the mob had run. “We rest.”
“Oh, great,” I said, pushing past him. “We rest.” I trekked up the hill toward the neon cross and my bed for the night.
Here I was—an ex-vampire—sitting under a Christian crucifix, the symbol that I had feared for three hundred years and now used as sanctuary, on top of a GoneGodsDamned volcano and waiting for dawn so that an angry mob hexed out of their minds wouldn’t kill me.
Great advice to stay, Medusa, I thought, not caring if it was in my head or aloud.
As I reached the cross, I wondered if there was a worse place for me to be.
END OF PART 3
Part IV
Intermission
“This may come off as arrogant … but I know why the gods left.”
Cue the dramatic pause, look around the audience, make eye contact. That’s very important—eye contact. That’s the one commonality between Others and humans—neither group can ignore eye contact. Then take a deep breath. Give them your best wicked smile. You know the one—the golden smile that has gotten you your way so many times before. The smile that says you are smart but down-to-earth. Beautiful, but somehow still approachable. Young, but wise.
“I know what many of you are thinking. How do I know something that so many scholars, philosophers, scientists, politicians and theologians don’t know? The answer is simple—they know, too. They just don’t have the balls to say it.”
Cue the fencing—just so the audience knows there is no escape.
“The gods left because we disappointed them.”
Begin the incantation. Evoke Huitzilopochtli. Evoke Shang Ti, Moloch, Kū, Re—even Yahweh. After all, the Old Testament was full of animal sacrifices. What is a human but an upgrade?
“They left because we forgot who they were.”
Push the scared little students into the center of the field. Then randomly point at someone young and frail—but pick carefully. You need the first sacrifice to be a screamer. Wait silently as the first sacrifice is tied to the tabernacle—the stone lip of the dried-up fountain. Once the virgin is secure, resume your speech.
“They left because we forgot who we were.”
Pull out the knife. The virgin will scream, so wait it out. If he or she doesn’t stop after, say, ten seconds, gag them. Remember: at this point, the party will probably think this is all part of the show. It won’t be until the blood starts flowing that they’ll realize what’s truly going on. Realize that they are all doomed to the same fate.
“Well, it’s time to remind us all—god and mortal alike—just who and what we are.”
Run the knife’s tip along the virgin’s body. Take it slow.
“Once that happens, they’ll come back.”
Stab, stab, stab.
“Did I mention my speech was going to kill?”
On a Hill, Beneath a Neon Cross, Waiting for Dawn
Day One of University: Witness a gruesome murder and defeat a giant bulldog.
Day Two of University: Spend the morning hours being interrogated by a detective and the nighttime hours being chased by an angry mob.
And before Day Three even begins, I’m hiding out beneath a giant neon cross crowning an inactive volcano. My companions include a changeling, the physical representation of Mergen the Turkish god of War and Wisdom—a creature who feeds on, might I add, the Truth—and some guy from Ghana who thinks he knows me.
“I do know you,” Egya called out. “I know what you were and who you are.”
GoneGodsDamn it—talking out loud again. “Private thought,” I yelled back.
“I also know
what you will become if you don’t face your past.”
“Oh, and what’s that?” I hoisted myself off the mesh fence that surrounded the base of the cross and walked up to Egya. I might not have had my vampiric strength anymore, but I still knew karate, kung fu, Krav Maga, Brazilian jujitsu, as well as Scottish and aikido-based swordplay … and I was looking for a fight.
Egya made a growling noise. Not like a dog. This sounded more like someone trying to suppress a laugh. A menacing, scary, soul-shaking laugh.
Deirdre stood behind me. “If you lay a hand on Lady Darling, I shall—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Egya said, stepping back. “I won’t touch her. I don’t hit girls.”
Mergen groaned at this, clutching his stomach in pain.
“Sentient lie detector,” I said, pointing at the avatar.
“Fine,” he said. “I don’t hit girls … unless in the heat of battle, and said girl—” he pointed at me “—is an ex—”
“Don’t you say it,” I warned.
“—something-or-Other,” Egya said, giving emphasis to that last word purposefully, “who is more than capable of defending herself. But I would never, ever hurt the defenseless or weak.”
At this Mergen hummed and rubbed his belly in satisfaction.
I looked at Mergen, the sentient lie detector. How can that be the Truth? I thought.
“I’m not the hapless agent of chaos you think I am,” Egya said. “Believe it or not, I want to help you.”
Mergen licked his lips.
“See?” Egya said, pointing at Mergen.
“Help me? How? You mean like you did on campus?”
“I saved you.”
“Again—how? Were you the one who had to re-break a nose that probably looks like a dumpster fire by now?”
“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have noticed the hex. And before you say anything—we all know you know exactly what a hex is … so don’t play stupid with us.”
Mergen sucked on his fingers one at a time, as if licking off barbecue sauce.
“You—” I pointed at the ghostly white avatar “—stop that. And you …” I looked back at Egya. “Why do you want to help me so badly?”
“Because,” Egya said, “I know the cost of running from your past.”
“I’m not running from anything.”
“So that wasn’t you going to Student Admin to drop out just two days into the semester?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Mergen groaned and made a face like he had just accidentally drunk sour milk.
Deirdre looked at me, a look of hurt surprise on her face. “You are leaving?”
“No.”
Mergen spat on the ground.
“I mean, yes.”
I looked at Mergen, who continued to make a disapproving face.
“Maybe,” I said.
At that, Mergen smiled.
“I haven’t decided yet,” I admitted. “But it’s hard. I mean …” I gestured around us. “This is only my third night here.”
“It will get easier,” Egya said. “You are only beginning your journey.”
That really annoyed me. “Look here, Yoda,” I said. “You can pretend to be the wise little sage that knows more about me than I know about myself, and you might have once upon a time been a were-dog—”
“Hyena.”
“Were-pain-in-my-ass! Whatever you were, you’re not that anymore. Now you’re a human. A human like me. A stupid, worthless, broken human!” I cried out.
I don’t know what happened exactly, but saying those words unleashed something in me. I started sobbing, still speaking between gasps. “It’s just so hard. I mean—one minute you’re—a supernatural predator that eats people—and the next—you’re just—people.”
I walked over to the mesh fence and looked up at the cross, basking in its neon halo. I calmed down, taking deep breaths and wiping the tears from my face. “Not too long ago, the sight of a cross would have sent me running. Its power protected those who believed in it from monsters like me.”
Deirdre walked up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. “A symbol that offers protection for those who wish it to.”
I nodded. “But now, here, under this monstrous thing, I feel … nothing. Neither fear nor comfort. To me, this cross is just a piece of decoration on top of a hill.”
“But, Lady Kat, is that not a good thing?” Deirdre drew in close. “This symbol can no longer cast its oppressive shadow over you. You are free.”
“But that’s just the thing. I don’t feel happy, I don’t feel free. I don’t feel anything. About this cross, about being human again, about—” I stopped myself.
There was a long silence before Deirdre, the fae pain-in-my-ass, asked a question I did not have the courage to ask myself.
“Lady Kat, are you without … pain?”
I nodded.
Deirdre straightened her back and lowered her hands to her side so she resembled a tree trunk without branches—the fae’s body language for concern or worry. “That is not good, Lady Kat. We fae believe that true life resides in the throes of emotion, be it comforting or adversarial.”
Tears spilled down my face once more. “When we vampires became human, there was a lot of confusion. We lost our fangs, our powers and superhuman strength and senses. And we also lost our need to drink human blood. This caused us more confusion than you might think. For one thing, all the horrible things we did when we were demons came flooding back to us. Being human meant having a human conscience. And a conscience is a heavy burden.
“Most of us—at least among the ex-vampires I spoke to—decided on two things. One, we’d do our best to atone for what we had done. And two, we’d try to forgive ourselves. After all, it was the demon within us that killed all those people. And that demon’s gone now. That has to count for something.”
I had been staring up at the cross once more, but now I turned and looked back at everyone. “Well, it doesn’t, and I will say one thing about forgiveness. It doesn’t come easy. Because I wasn’t sure I could ever let go of the guilt, I decided to focus on atonement. That’s why,” I said, turning to Mergen, “I saved you from those hockey players, why I thought to feed you. Saving you was part of my atonement.” I looked away. “But that’s a lie.”
“No, it isn’t,” Mergen said, dabbing at his lips.
“Fine, but it is an incomplete truth. The whole truth, the Truth, is this: we ex-vampires lie to ourselves, saying that it was the demon inside that killed … but when you’re turned, it’s not like the movies, where you lose your soul or become a mindless killer. The truth is, nothing about who you are actually changes.
“You are who you are, but with an insatiable, painful hunger that, if not satisfied, will kill you. Human blood is the only way to survive as a vampire. And your thirst for it is all-consuming. When I drank from my victims, I did so because I didn’t want to die. Not because a demon was telling me to do it.
“And before you ask—pigs, cows, rats … animal blood doesn’t sustain a vampire.
“And yes, I tried to only drink the blood of those who were evil—at first. But after years of killing, even that line gets crossed. You start to find evil in all humans, no matter how small, and you lie to yourself, saying you’re making the world better by ridding it of its scum. After a while, you don’t even bother saying that. It just becomes a part of you. You tell yourself, you are no more evil than the man who slaughters a cow for sustenance. Being a vampire, you say, means humans have become your cattle. That is why I’m ashamed of who I was—”
“Was?” asked Mergen, clutching his stomach.
“Am …” I said. “Am … I am a killer who—at first—killed because I didn’t want to die. And later because it just became a … a normal thing to do.”
“Mmmm,” Mergen said. “The Truth may be bitter … but it is always nourishing.”
I didn’t look at the avatar. I couldn’t. I was so ashamed, and my eye
s were so overflowing with tears that I couldn’t see anything. In the clarity of my Truth, the world was a blur to see.
“Maybe,” I said, “there is one more Truth to share.”
Mergen’s eyes glinted. “Please.”
I took a deep breath. “When I turned my mother, it wasn’t because I wanted to hurt or punish my father. It was because I believed that he—seeing both his daughter and wife a vampire—would agree to be turned. I wanted to have my family back. Me, mother and father, traveling the world, happy and whole. But he still refused and all I managed to do was create an immortal mother who was more trouble than a hundred angry, pitch-fork carrying, monster hunting mobs.” I thought about my mother and shuttered. Just more evil I had to atone for … the stuff I did, and the insanity and chaos she brought into the world because of me.
I doubted I could make up for all of that even if I had a thousand lifetimes to try.
“I might have lost that round,” I said, “but there was one more move I had, and on the night he …” My voice cracked, catching my next words before they could escape my lips.
“Pain is often truth newly set free,” Mergen said giving me a look of divine sympathy.
I nodded, wiping away my newly set free tears. “So … so the night he died, was the night I took him by force and made him a vampire against his will. But my father was so stubborn. And strong. Stronger than I will ever be. As soon as he realized he could not conquer the hunger that now burned within him, he took his own life by waiting for the sun to rise. I tried to stop him, but now that he was a vampire, he was too strong for me to pull him away from the light.
“ ‘The sun will kill you!’ I cried out.
“He just shook his head and said, ‘Dying is the right thing for me to do.’
“ ‘But it will hurt,’ I said, like a petulant child scared to take her medicine.