A Shade of Vampire 90: A Ruler of Clones

by Forrest, Bella

  She went back to Purgatory—once, twice, three times. The Valkyries and the Berserkers kept pushing back. Their defenses became stronger, their weapons more dangerous. Their blades and whips and arrowheads were pure darkness and pure light, each inflicting excruciatingly painful wounds. The World Crusher kept coming. She fought them. She lashed out at them. She even raised her scythe at Order once, blinded by her own rage.

  It got worse. Purgatory’s forces had no problem throwing her back into Death’s realm, but since the World Crusher didn’t quite register time like the rest of us, she didn’t have the patience to wait for people to die. Something broke inside her. One day, she beheld a young Lamia with beautiful copper hair and round yellow eyes. With one swift move, her scythe cut the Lamia’s head off. It was the first time the World Crusher had killed a living creature.

  That was when the universe truly fell out of its original balance. This was the very first glitch. The first fall from the natural equilibrium of things. It burned me to the core to witness this. She towered over the Lamia’s body, and I sensed no regret. Finally, I understood what had triggered Death’s decision. For all the anger her secrecy had caused me, having to agree with her only made me feel worse.

  “It wasn’t right. I deserved freedom. I deserved to go anywhere and be whoever I wished to be. Since Death wasn’t around to keep me grounded, well… I did the wrong thing. I started killing so I could gain quicker access into Purgatory. I kept going there. Fighting. Getting myself thrown out. There was nothing that could slow me down.”

  Ultimately, Order beat the World Crusher to a pulp. The Reaper could barely stand, fury coursing through her. It made the stars in her eyes explode against the black cosmic backdrop, as Order grabbed World by the hair and dragged her out of Purgatory. This was a shudder-inducing sight, and I was speechless. My words had vanished, watching the first Reaper hurled back into our realm like a sack of potatoes. She’d even dropped her scythe, the blade hitting the ground with a disheartening clang.

  “Death!” Order shouted, blue fires blazing in her eyes. Every strand of her golden hair seemed to move, like liquid in suspended animation, undulating under the reddish sun’s soft rays. “Death! Come down here, now!”

  My maker appeared, clad in her white silk dress, black hair flowing freely down her back. “Sister… this is unexpected.” Death’s initial smile faded when she noticed the World Crusher and the pitiful state she was in.

  “This must stop,” Order said. “I have lost my patience. I have lost count of the times I’ve had to remove her from Purgatory. You must make her understand that she doesn’t belong there, sister, or you must do something to stop her altogether. I have the power to end this, and you know it. But out of respect, I choose to leave it in your hands. Please, do not make me take action against one of your own, because the next time I face the World Crusher, I will break her.”

  So, Order had the same reach as Death. She could obliterate a Reaper. I had a feeling I’d need this information later, though I couldn’t say for what, exactly. The World Crusher was bitter and deeply wounded, unable to even get up, but even then she was refusing her fate.

  “I’ll make sure she never reaches Purgatory again,” Death said solemnly, then watched her sister disappear into thin air. A second later, she gave World a sad glance. “You shouldn’t have done this… Oh, darling, I wish you’d obeyed.”

  “I am tired of this place!” she cried out. “I need to see what else is out there. I wish to go beyond the realms. Purgatory, the Afterlife… I want it all!”

  Death kneeled beside the injured Reaper, gingerly picking the scythe up off the ground. “I suppose it’s my fault. I made you, but I never put any limits on your wonderful mind. In my foolishness, I thought you would understand. I thought I could teach you common sense and empathy, or that I could at least teach you to comply and obey. Clearly, that was a foolish mistake.” She broke the scythe’s handle in two, then the blade. It snapped so easily—I couldn’t believe it.

  The World Crusher screamed in agony.

  “My one way of getting into Purgatory, and it was gone,” she wrote, bitterness dripping from every word. “My weapon. An extension of my very being, and she just broke it and threw it away like it was nothing. I never forgave her for it. I refused to let her reign over me.”

  Trembling, I blinked back tears and found myself standing before the tome, back in the real world. The pain she’d felt was mine, still throbbing in my chest. It spread through my body like bubbling lava, simmering and scorching everything in its path.

  The horror of having one’s scythe destroyed like that… I wouldn’t wish it upon the worst of my enemies. Yet I understood and accepted Death’s reasoning. It was an awful and truly difficult decision, but it had been the right thing to do. The World Crusher had lost herself, desperate to make a new home in Purgatory—the one place where she didn’t belong.

  Gazing into Tristan’s wide and worried eyes, I knew how lucky I’d been that the World Crusher and I, we were nothing alike. Death and I, we were nothing alike. It was time for me to stop seeking comparisons of any kind. What had happened to the World Crusher could have been avoided if Death had been more careful.

  Astra

  Brandon had offered to show us that Hrista was, in fact, behind the fake Shade’s creation. While Myst had seemed more willing to consider the possibility, Regine was still adamant that Hrista would never have degraded herself to such levels. “First of all,” the youthful-looking Valkyrie had said, “leaving Purgatory is a horrendous crime by itself. Our kind belong there and nowhere else. Second, building this place and creating clones of living people requires knowledge and expertise that even a Valkyrie as gifted as Hrista isn’t supposed to possess.”

  “Someone would’ve had to help her,” I said.

  “Someone did help her. I’m not sure who or how, but someone definitely helped her,” Brandon replied.

  Regine remained stubborn in her response, though I knew it was only as a means of coping with this new and harsh reality. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Your kind was never trustworthy.”

  I would’ve rolled my eyes at the statement, but I imagined their discord ran deeper than the handful of Berserkers who’d come over to work with Hrista on this plane. There had to be ancient history between the Valkyries and the Berserkers, the kind of history that didn’t disappear with time. Brandon had mentioned there was no sense of time in Purgatory, merely a hint of its passing as a means for them to fully take in their surroundings. “Had we been born timeless creatures, we never would’ve cared,” he’d said earlier. “Alas, we all lived and breathed and saw the sun rising, the moon glowing… Purgatory wants us to forget that, but it’s hard. So, in turn, we choose to never forget anything, including even the smallest of disputes.”

  Following that logic, it meant that whatever had pushed the Valkyries and the Berserkers away from one another may not have been something big. It had just stuck around, like a shadow looming and reminding them that they weren’t friends any longer. I’d wondered if that had impacted their duty in Purgatory, but Brandon had said no. “Whether we like each other or not doesn’t matter. We do what we’re meant to do.”

  To put this Hrista issue to rest, Brandon had offered to prove her betrayal. Myst sensed that she was here, and he knew where to find her. For such an operation, we needed a plan, especially since Isabelle, Voss, and Chantal were still recovering from the foreign medication they’d been sedated with. Regine and Mom’s combined efforts had not fully purged their bodies of those chemicals, though they had sped the process up slightly.

  “I will stay with Richard, Isabelle, Voss, and Chantal,” Mom said. “I can teleport them away at a moment’s notice if they need another safe haven.”

  “We have enough tricks up our sleeves to get ourselves out of danger, if needed,” Thayen replied, showing her a red stick. “Including flares. Just keep an eye on the skies. If you see the red flare, it’ll mean we need you to zap on over
and save our skins. Think you can do that?”

  “Absolutely,” Mom said, smiling. “I would come with you, of course, but I feel like the more vulnerable need me by their side in case anyone shows up here. I will stand by the cave opening and keep watch.”

  I hugged her tightly, feeling Brandon’s curious gaze on us. “I know. You’re doing the right thing. Besides, we’ll only use the flare if we don’t have any other way to lose our pursuers.”

  “We each have five in our bags,” Thayen reminded us. “They’re part of what we took from the armory before blowing it up, so it’s a limited supply. We agreed to use them wisely.”

  “It’s fine,” Mom replied.

  Richard frowned, crossing his arms in protest. “I’m okay, though. I could go with Thayen’s crew. Believe me, I’m much more alert than, say… yesterday.”

  “You were an actual zombie yesterday,” Jericho chuckled. Richard wanted to contradict him, but Thayen threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight bear hug.

  “I need you to stay here and keep the others safe. Viola is but one Daughter, and those runes still limit her, remember? And there’s only so much teleporting she can do before her batteries are drained. This place is different. It takes a toll on us,” he said to Richard.

  “Yeah. You’re right. Okay, I’ll hold back and protect the weaklings, then.”

  Dafne shot him a cold grin. “Don’t let Voss hear you say that, or he’ll kick your ass six ways from Sunday when he wakes up.”

  We took a few minutes to get our things in order. I left Mom and Richard with Voss, Isabelle, and Chantal. Soph asked to stay with them, as well, arguing that a limited Daughter and a barely recovered wolf-incubus would not be enough to protect our friends. She would’ve liked nothing more than to be part of the offense, but our friends needed to be kept safe, and Soph was a fierce protector. On our side, we had plenty of power even with reduced numbers—we were packing two Valkyries and a Berserker, after all, so there wasn’t any point in taking the entire crew over to probably meet the evil mastermind—that had never turned out well for others, so why would it end any other way for us?

  No, we needed a small recon group. That much we’d all agreed on, so Soph staying behind wasn’t a bad idea at all. Thayen and I led the team this time, though we were following Brandon’s guidance. Myst and Regine were with us, along with Dafne and Jericho. The fae dragon’s fire would help with the Valkyries’ weapons, much like my light, but the ice dragon’s fighting skills were required along with her ice shards, in case things got bad fast.

  With this plan in place, I allowed myself a few minutes of solitude outside the Black Heights while the others finished getting ready to leave. It took me a while to shake every nasty thought out of my head. My heart was still drumming harder and faster than usual, especially when I was around Brandon. I feared an in-depth examination of the meaning behind that reaction, however, so I set it aside for later.

  “You know, your eyes are even darker when you’re brooding,” Brandon’s voice shot through the momentary silence. I turned my head to find him standing barely a foot to my left, his flaming blue gaze drilling into me.

  “I’m not brooding,” I replied. “Just thinking.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “It depends on what you’re thinking about. Brooding is more… negative,” I said.

  He chuckled. “What were you thinking about, then?”

  “Whether we’ll survive this or not.” It hit me then that I was, in fact, brooding. But Brandon didn’t say a word. Not even a hint of “I told you so,” and I appreciated that. We sat on the ridge, black stone pebbles shifting and slipping down the narrow slopes below. They disappeared into the murky green underbrush. This whole place felt wrong. It was a constant reminder of it not being home, yet Brandon’s presence—while weird in itself—made me feel like I could find my way back. “I’m putting my trust in you this time.”

  “Regarding this journey to Hrista, you mean.”

  “Yes. Your allegiance has been… inconsistent, and I understand why. But it’s still hard for me to have faith in you, realizing that you could turn away from me at any time,” I said.

  “You have every reason to hesitate,” Brandon replied. “These are unusual circumstances for all of us. I belong in Purgatory, in the arms of darkness. It’s all I know, and that’s where I must return. In order to do that, however, I must help break this place and everything it represents. I cannot do it alone, which is why I’m assisting you as best as I can.”

  The thought of him going back home didn’t sit well with me. It was the obvious and natural thing to do, since Brandon didn’t belong here, but… ugh, it felt wrong. He seemed to pick up on my unspoken discomfort. “Of course, there’s also a chance I will never be allowed back into Purgatory after this,” he said, only half-joking. “I’ve aided Hrista and her minions. I’ve broken so many of Order’s laws…”

  “Do you want to go back?” I asked, pushing myself to look into his eyes, where, for a moment, blue turned to white.

  “I should.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s complicated,” Brandon replied. “Just know I stand by what I said before. I will do everything I can to get you and your mother and your friends out of here.”

  I would’ve liked to press him further. “Complicated” didn’t even begin to cover what this whole thing was, but I had a feeling I’d already gotten everything I could from Brandon at this point. It left room for me to speculate and maybe even imagine a potential outcome where he might stick around, but I knew it wouldn’t be healthy for me to indulge in possibilities that might never come to pass. Yes, I would’ve liked for Brandon to stay, but it wasn’t my decision to make, and I didn’t want to influence it, either. It wouldn’t be right.

  We spent a few minutes in comfortable silence, watching the perpetual night stretch across the fake Shade. Under different circumstances, I would’ve seen this whole place as a fascinating homage to our world. It was beautiful in its own way, and the creatures inhabiting it deserved better than what they’d been given. If there was one thing I’d learned in my few years of life, it was that hate wasn’t something you were born with. Hate was taught. Someone had taught the clones to loathe us, to want to kill us.

  “Do you know how she made the clones?” I asked Brandon after a while. “I know samples of our DNA were used, but why couldn’t she make them with real souls? I don’t quite understand that.”

  Brandon nodded slowly, gazing out into the distance. “Berserkers and Valkyries don’t have the life-giving powers of your kind. Neither do the Reapers. Everything that’s beyond the realm of the dead is incapable of creating souls. That’s what I know, anyway. I could be wrong. There may be some exception prior to the land of Purgatory, I guess… but Valkyries don’t have that power. And whatever else she might be, Hrista is still a Valkyrie. All she has is our particular brand of magic and one gargantuan ego to feed.”

  “So, she has the bodies made out there, in The Shade’s extension,” I replied, trying to visualize the process. I remembered Ta’Zan’s operations from the startling details in GASP’s history and science classes, but I wasn’t sure if it resembled Hrista’s in any way. “Does she use certain types of machinery or magic? Or both?”

  “Both would be an appropriate answer. I have no idea of the details, however,” Brandon said. “I never set foot inside the labs. All I did was deliver the DNA samples. What I do know is that Hrista is perpetually bothered by her inability to make souls. She’s insanely competitive against the likes of Order, Death, and the Word. Of the three, the Word is the hardest to replicate. Order is our supreme authority, but she’s made us in her own image, more or less. Death… well, her magic and Reapers and scythes are pretty easy to figure out. I know there are stories in Purgatory about a time when a Reaper tried to come through and live with us…” He paused to laugh lightly, the idea clearly amusing him.

  I, on the
other hand, was instantly curious. “Wasn’t that the Spirit Bender, like Thayen said?”

  “No, it’s someone else. The whole thing happened way before I was made. Perhaps Edda or Bodil might know more. Unfortunately, neither is here to help us figure things out,” Brandon said with a heavy sigh. “Sometimes, I wonder if they’d be able to do anything against Hrista. She’s got some serious mojo going on here, Pinkie. Mojo she’s not supposed to have, and I don’t know where she got it from or how. That’s what really scares me.”

  It was the first time I’d heard him say he was afraid. It couldn’t be an easy thing to admit, especially for a punisher like Brandon—for a Berserker. I wished I knew what to say, but all I could do was place my hand over his. The feeling of our skin touching triggered strange reactions inside me, and heat bloomed in my chest as his gaze found my face.

  The second that followed felt like the longest I had ever experienced. I waited for something to happen. Holding my breath, I didn’t look away from him. His eyes smiled when his lips wouldn’t. There were things he would’ve liked to say, that much was obvious. But he didn’t. He held it all back and stood, stretching his arms as if he’d just gotten out of bed.

  “Come on, Pinkie. I’ve got two Valkyries to disappoint.”

  I stood too, and he moved away from me, even as the tension between us persisted. There was something happening here, for sure. Something I wasn’t sure was real or okay. But the heart was a fickle thing, and I had to admit to myself that I wasn’t strong or experienced enough to know how to handle it.

  We had one hell of a problem waiting for us at the end of this journey, so I chose to focus on that instead. The Valkyries might need me more than ever before. Thayen, my mom, my family and friends… their safety and wellbeing came first.