Gates of Eden: Starter Library

by Theophilus Monroe

  Sort of like, I suppose, when a human transfers colleges or takes a new job in the same profession. There’s a familiarity, since the daily tasks aren’t all that different. But there’s also a newness that’s both exciting and stressful all at once.

  For that reason, I hadn’t desired to return to the river since I lost my abilities. Sure, I tried a few times at first. When I wasn’t returning to my normal form, I thought if I just dipped a toe in the water maybe the energies would take over and trigger my shift. But it didn’t work.

  So I stopped going there.

  The easiest place to access the waters where I used to live was a public boat ramp in Riverfront Park. Maybe it was the anxiety of my decision. I mean, I’d been looking for a lead on Alice for years now. So long as I was just looking for a lead, I hadn’t really been forced to ask myself why.

  Why did I want to shift back?

  Well, there were all the obvious reasons. All the things I didn’t like about this life. But there was also the fact that I’d grown rather accustomed to humans. I liked some of them—and not just for their flavor.

  The idea of becoming what I was… it was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

  So I thought a visit to my old waters might give me a little clarity.

  I don’t know what I expected. If the waters felt like the waters in the old country, the lakes… I mean, I just wanted the sense of going home again. The comfort of returning to my roots…

  Of course, the old country didn’t feel like home, either.

  I’d gone there, too, once.

  Without any identity to speak of, you’d be surprised how hard it is to get out of this country and into another one. It took me a while, but I found a guy on the street who was able to get me the social security number of a dead person. I couldn’t believe it worked. I figured someone would figure it out when I flashed the passport of the deceased Phil Cromley.

  But I suppose he looked enough like me that no one questioned it. Surprisingly, no alarms went off when I boarded the plane. I was nervous as hell.

  I mean, if I got caught, would they arrest me?

  They’d put me in a men’s prison, too… because that’s where the system thinks I belong. And I doubted my experience there would be altogether pleasant.

  But I didn’t get caught. I made it to Germany. Found my old waters, and they were already inhabited by others…

  Neck, like me.

  I don’t know how they got there. But it was what I suppose it would be like to visit an old house that used to be your home when someone else lives there.

  It felt awkward as hell.

  And the waters there, even when I dipped my toe in them, didn’t change me back… If anything, I felt a negative energy. Something telling me, in no uncertain terms, that I was unwelcome. I was an abomination.

  So I boarded the next flight back to America, and I’ve been hunting Alice ever since. All in hopes of returning to the river, the waters that always changed. Waters that never got stuck in one shape.

  I don’t know what I expected to feel this time. I knew I couldn’t go back. Not yet. But maybe if I just looked at the water again, if I let myself try to remember what it was like…

  If I let the water touch my toes one more time…

  I slipped off my heels and walked barefoot down the boat ramp. I moved carefully; the ramp was a little slick. But I had a good sense of balance.

  I stared at the water as the current carried it over the tops of my feet. It was cool relative to the hot and humid midsummer air.

  That’s one thing I remembered: the river tended to resist temperature change more than the old lakes.

  As an elemental, I didn’t care much. So long as it was above freezing and below boiling, I was fine. Another advantage of the rivers compared to the lakes in the old country: the river never froze.

  When our waters freeze… well, it has the same effect on our essences. Not exactly our most pleasant mode of existence. Boil an elemental… that’s a recipe for hell on earth. You never want to boil water that contains an elemental.

  Doesn’t happen often, and I’d never seen it. But from what I knew from the few encounters I had with my own kind back in the day, and the stories they told… I’ll just say, so the legend goes, that a witch once captured one of our kind. She boiled him in her cauldron, and when he turned to steam, she unleashed him on an entire village.

  There were no survivors.

  Before I’d become human, something like that was less nightmarish than it seemed now. It was a fascinating tale, as I recalled it. But now it was straight-up horror. I couldn’t imagine…

  I took a deep breath. No grand insights. Just water on my feet.

  Then water splashing across my face.

  What the…

  “Hey, putz!”

  I turned. There, floating in midair, was a small creature. He appeared to be made of water, sort of like me but without skin. He resembled something of a human baby, but with wings.

  “What the hell are you?” I asked.

  He splashed himself into my face again. I turned, and he rematerialized on the other side of me.

  “You seriously don’t remember me, Nyxie?”

  I raised my eyebrow. “Should I remember you?”

  “Yes and no,” the creature said. “I mean, I’ve always been there, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I’m a part of you, you shlep!” the creature exclaimed. “At least, I used to be.”

  I shook my head. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “I’m a sprite!” the creature said. “Every one of the Neck has a sprite. When you’re… more yourself, we’re more like one entity. Our waters mix together. Call me something like your conscience.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “I don’t think I had a conscience back then.”

  “Sure you did,” the creature said. “I was your conscience. But not anymore. I’ve developed a life of my own. Call me Brucie.”

  “Brucie? Seriously?”

  “Says the one who goes by Nicky.” Brucie dove into a pile of leaves, emerged with a cigar in one hand and a lighter in the other, and proceeded to puff on it, smoke clouding his watery essence before he breathed it out directly at my face.

  I waved it away with my hand, coughing a little. “Brucie, what the hell… I don’t understand.”

  “Want a smoke?”

  “No thank you,” I said. “I don’t smoke.”

  Brucie puffed on his cigar again, this time doing me the courtesy of turning his head before puffing out three perfectly shaped rings.

  “That’s impressive,” I said.

  “I’ve had practice,” Brucie said. “So have you finally finished the job?”

  “The job?”

  Brucie shook his head. “You really are lost, aren’t you?”

  “You could say that,” I said, scratching my head.

  “Have you finished your meal? It’s been what, half a decade?”

  I snorted. “She was a vampire. She bit me.”

  Brucie shrugged. “So what? Did you finish her?”

  I cocked my head. “I couldn’t. She took my abilities and ran…”

  “She borrowed your abilities,” Brucie said. “The reason you haven’t shifted back is because you didn’t finish your meal.”

  “So if I do eat her heart, I’ll become myself again?”

  Brucie nodded. “And I’ll have to go back to being your better half.”

  I bit my lip. “I still don’t understand why I don’t remember you.”

  “Tell me, Nyxie…” Brucie said.

  “Nicky or Nyx,” I said. “Don’t call me Nyxie.”

  Brucie smiled and took another draw on his cigar. “Tell me Nyxie, you haven’t felt like yourself ever since you left the water, have you?”

  I shook my head. “No, of course not. I… And why aren’t you calling me Nicky? And more importantly, how did you know I went by that name before I even told you?”

&
nbsp; Brucie slapped me across the face, leaving a streak of water behind. “Because I can still read your mind, dumbass.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Fine. Then what number am I thinking of right now?”

  “Seven.”

  I grunted. He’d gotten it right. “Alright, how about now?”

  “One thousand seven hundred and sixty-five and a half.”

  “Damn!” I cursed. “You can read my mind.”

  Brucie took one more long draw from his cigar and flicked the rest into the river before exhaling it, again, into my face. “Told you so.”

  “Please don’t do that,” I said. “It smells awful.”

  “I know,” Brucie said. “I’m reading your mind, remember?”

  I sighed. “So once I catch Alice and eat her, I’ll go back to normal.”

  Brucie cracked his knuckles. I’m not sure why they cracked since he seemed completely made of water, but I heard a pop no less. “Probably not right away. I mean, you’d have to go back into the water. We’d have to recombine again, and then, after a while, once all the human filth you’ve accumulated washes away… sure, you should be good as new.”

  I bit my lip. “Do I have to go back to how I was before?”

  Brucie shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, no one knows what will happen after you actually eat a vampire’s flesh. And then, if you don’t drag her down into the water to consume her as is customary… well, we’re getting into uncharted water. Pun intended.”

  I nodded. “So should I or shouldn’t I try to eat the vampire?”

  “Of course you should,” Brucie said. “But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t gotten used to some of the finer things of an independent existence.”

  “Like cigars?”

  “Cigars, whiskey, women…”

  “Women?” I asked. “You mean to tell me you’ve been with women?”

  “As many as I can handle,” Brucie said. “They meet me. At first they’re frightened. Haven’t seen anything like me before. Then they decide I’m cute. That’s my in. But once I show them what I can do, the pleasures I can…”

  “Alright!” I said. “That’s more than I need to know. You’re basically saying you’re in no hurry to re-mingle our essences again?”

  “No rush on my end, buddy!”

  I nodded. “So say I eat this vampire’s heart—if I can even stomach it—and I decide not to go back to the river?”

  “It’s never been done,” Brucie said. “But I’m guessing you’d recover something of your ability. But you wouldn’t lose your human form completely.”

  “So I could change my appearance?”

  “Probably, but I think the same principles would apply. You’d still have to target someone, claim them as your next meal. And then you’d be at their mercy, becoming whatever it is they desire most.”

  I nodded. “So if I want to become a woman… If I want a woman’s body…”

  “Target someone into women. A straight man, maybe a lesbian. Just make sure that their ideal lines up with what you hope to become.”

  “And I won’t have to eat them?”

  “You’ll want to. I mean, do you really think your obsession to hunt this vampire is really all about vengeance? It’s a natural drive, a part of the process. It’s a part of what you are.”

  “You mean, what we are?”

  Brucie shrugged. “I’m just a part of your conscience, sis. The drive to feed, to hunt, that’s all you.”

  “I still don’t understand. What kind of conscience did I have before that I don’t now?”

  Brucie stared at me. “A conscience doesn’t just tell you what you can’t do. It also grants you permission to do what you must.”

  I cocked my head. “So you are why I never had any moral qualms about eating humans?”

  “I suppose I had something to do with that,” Brucie said. “A sprite is a necessary part of every Neck’s survival. Without us, you might begin to empathize with the humans whose shape you take.”

  I grunted. “But you said you like humans now, too?”

  “I enjoy them,” Brucie said. “There’s a difference.”

  “Alright,” I said. “Then I’ll do it.”

  “You’ll accept the vampire Wolfgang’s help?”

  “Stop reading my mind, man! It’s kind of creeping me out. Especially since I can’t read yours back.”

  “Hard not to,” Brucie said. “It’s sort of like trying not to listen to a conversation happening right next to you.”

  “Just try not to listen,” I said. “Or don’t try. Do whatever you want. I need to get going if I’m going to meet up with the vampire in time.”

  “You think I’m letting you do this alone?”

  “I figured…”

  “Hell no,” Brucie said, answering his own rhetorical question. “I’m in the mood for an adventure! Plus, it’ll be fun. You know, for old times’ sake.”

  8

  THERE’S REALLY ONLY one downside to wearing heels: they aren’t exactly conducive to sneaking around. But since vampires have super hearing anyway, the distinct sound of walking into an area in heels has always worked to my advantage.

  No matter what I wore, they’d hear me.

  But the click of my heels against the ground… it was becoming a part of my brand, striking terror into vampire hearts.

  And I looked good doing it.

  Needless to say, Wolfgang knew I was coming as I climbed through the window at the Edge of Hell. He was reclining casually in the same chair I’d bound him to before. Only now he’d grabbed a box of props—the stuff they pulled out when the haunted house was in season to help their actors scare patrons.

  “You’ve returned,” Wolfgang said. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d show up at all.”

  I stared at the vampire, locking my baby blues onto his ravenous reds. “It’s barely after sunset.”

  Wolfgang shrugged. “Still, I expected you’d be waiting for me if you were going to take me up on my offer. I mean, how long has it been since you, you know?”

  I sighed. “Five years.”

  Wolfgang nodded. “And who’s the little friend?”

  “The name’s Brucie,” Brucie piped up. “And big things come in small packages, buddy.”

  “Is that so?” Wolfgang asked.

  “That’s what she said, anyway!” Brucie snapped back, grinning ear to ear.

  “So what’s the plan, Wolfy?” I asked.

  Wolfgang tilted his head. “Wolfy?”

  I shrugged. “Your name is a mouthful.”

  Wolfy snorted. “Sounds like a better nickname for a werewolf…”

  “‘Gang’ doesn’t really work,” I said.

  “Just Wolf,” the vampire said, folding his hands across his chest. “If you’re going to shorten my name, don’t add a Y to it. It defeats the purpose.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “Does it now?”

  “Wolfgang is two syllables. Wolfy is, too. If you’re shortening my name because it’s too much of a mouthful, it’s illogical to remove the proper syllable for another one… especially one that feels diminutive.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I’ll just call you Wolfgang, then.”

  The vampire smiled. “As you should.”

  “So, what is the plan?” I put my hands on my hips even as Brucie reclined on my right shoulder. “And why do you need my help at all?”

  “I need you to infiltrate the Order of the Morning Dawn,” Wolfgang said.

  “Why?” I asked, shrugging. “I mean, if they had any information on Alice, wouldn’t they just give it to you?”

  “They aren’t exactly inclined to help me out.”

  “But you said they wanted you to eliminate Alice,” I said. “And if you did, they’d leave you alone.”

  “Doesn’t mean they’re inclined to help me. In truth, Alice and I are the only two former nightwalkers who either didn’t turn themselves in for elimination or they couldn’t capture once the program was terminated.”
/>   “So the Order isn’t exactly on your side?”

  Wolfgang shook his head. “The offer they gave me, I presume, is available to her as well. If she eliminates me, she too would secure immunity from the Order’s pursuits.”

  I shook my head. “It sounds like a fly negotiating with a horse.”

  Wolfgang nodded. “The fly is an annoyance. It cannot kill the horse. But the horse can’t swat at the fly, either.”

  “You picked up on my metaphor,” I said, grinning slightly.

  “And it’s a better one, I think, than you anticipated. Because I truly cannot do much to undermine the Order, particularly when they only meet under the cover of the morning’s light.”

  I cocked my head. “You could hunt them down one by one at night, couldn’t you?”

  “Two problems with that,” Wolfgang said. “The first one being that I can’t enter their homes without an invitation.”

  “I forgot about that,” I said. “What is it, exactly, that prevents you from breaking and entering?”

  “Humans wield magic,” Wolfgang said. “It’s subtle. They don’t even realize it. But the bond of a family, when they make a place their home, it unleashes a spell that prevents the entry of the undead.”

  “Fascinating,” I said, biting my lip. “And the second reason?”

  “I don’t know the identities of any of the local members.”

  I scrunched my brow. “How do you not know who they are?”

  Wolfgang shrugged. “Different chapters of the Order handled their relationship with the nightwalkers differently. On the East Coast, where the nightwalkers originated and where Alice was made, the nightwalkers always knew the names of their handlers.”

  “Handlers? You refer to the humans in the Order as your handlers?”

  “We’re basically assassins,” Wolfgang said. “I mean, we used to be. They’d identify a vampire or witch that needed to be dealt with, and we’d carry out the kill.”

  “But here in the Midwest,” I said, “the Order operates differently?”

  Wolfgang nodded. “They’re less trusting here. Maybe it’s just because most of the nightwalkers they worked with in this chapter weren’t a part of the Order here before they were turned. Most of us were made by the original chapter in Rhode Island.”