E.V.I.E.: 13 Slayers, 13 Missions

by Lexi C. Foss

  “How do you know what I’ve researched if you weren’t stalking me?”

  “I, we…” Jude stopped talking, not sure how to proceed without looking like he was trying to explain away a line they had crossed. And that was exactly what he was attempting to do.

  Finally he took a deep breath and plunged right in. “You are right. That is exactly what we did. It isn’t right, but it served its purpose, and now here we are.”

  “How did you even hear of me?” Solange asked, somewhat appeased that he’d dropped the bullshit.

  “Your mother was killed by a vampire shortly after you were born. It was clear that she’d conceived you while she was away from her home.”

  “Again,” Solange asked, an impatient, sarcastic smile on her face, “how would you know?”

  Jude sighed, then looked her directly in the eye. “We are focused on vampires and the pestilence their influence spreads throughout the world. But, in monitoring them, planning their eventual demise, we sometimes come across those that are, other. We — our organization — has been aware of your bloodline for more than a century. The coven is not our enemy, vampirism is. Yet, we are aware when things are not as they should be. And your mother missing for almost nine months was not as it should have been.” Jude stopped talking and returned the glare Solange steadily shot his way.

  “I see,” Solange finally said, offended that anyone thought they had the right to observe her life from afar. But it was more than that, she was afraid. Afraid of how much they'd learned, what they were and weren’t aware of.

  Jude inclined his head. “We never meant offense, but it was our duty to track your behavior, your development, to determine that you weren't also a vampire. If you’d have been a vampire, along with the magics the De’Mers coven carry in their bloodlines, you’d have been unstoppable. So we followed your progresses. We watched. And soon we became aware that you were training for exactly the same mission E.V.I.E. stands for. We contacted your great grandmother much earlier, but were just now granted access to you. You were still a minor at that time.”

  Solange said nothing, just sat quietly still watching Jude as she thought over all she’d learned.

  “Solange?” Gillian said, leaning toward Solange across the table.

  Solange looked up at her.

  “I can’t begin to imagine what you’re feeling. I won’t pretend to. And I’d be outraged at people I don’t know watching my every move as I grew up. Puberty is hard enough without a secret audience.”

  Solange huffed a laugh and gave a single nod.

  “But we need you. All smoke and mirrors, as you put it, aside. We need you.”

  Solange liked this girl. There was no subterfuge with her at all. She was honest, she was actually in this day and age, even forthright. So she decided to be honest with Gillian. “Why would I care?” she asked, not with sarcasm, but as a genuine question.

  Gillian smiled sadly. Then she spoke matter of factly. “Because we believe the vampire we’ve been chasing for the last eighteen years is your father. We believe that he’s the same vampire that impregnated your mother as he destroyed her humanity, stealing her life from her. And if I’m not mistaken, he’s the reason you’ve been training all your life. You’re out to deliver justice.”

  Solange didn’t react, her heart thumped in her chest, but otherwise she gave no sign that the words Gillian had spoken had even been heard. She watched Gillian, and Gillian watched her.

  Finally she spoke. “What can you possibly offer me that I can’t achieve on my own?”

  “Brotherhood. Support. Intel on his last whereabouts and where we believe he is now. An intricate web of cells and well-trained operatives that will assist you in any way you ask,” Jude jumped to explain.

  “Can’t your other operatives meet your objectives?”

  “Some can, but this is not the only vampire we’re hunting. Some are as dangerous as he is, others more so. But this vampire, he’s gone off the deep end, and we believe you are the best chance at finding him, and with your identity, possibly even getting close enough to kill him,” Gillian explained.

  Solange didn’t answer, she just thought over everything they’d told her.

  “Solange, our operatives are the best in the world. But that’s just it… they’re spread all over the world. We are always on the lookout for additional agents to add to our teams, to our forces. You fit. You more than fit, you were handmade for us, for our missions and our goals. And we’ve watched you grow into a young woman whose talents would be wasted on any other path.”

  Solange nodded her head to indicate she’d heard Gillian's words. She said no more and only moments later dinner had resumed and conversation had turned to weather, of all things. Jude complained of the rain that had been nonstop in the area, and mentioned how he’d be glad for the dry spell that was supposedly forecast for New Orleans for the next week.

  “Fortunately for me, the rain stopped in time to make it to your lovely home for dinner tonight,” Jude said.

  “The rain does make for a messy travel, no matter where you are,” Grandmama agreed.

  Dinner continued and finally, a short time later dessert had been finished and their visit was at an end. Grandmama and Solange walked their guests to the front door, chatting as they went.

  As the door was opened, and Gillian and Jude stood with their backs to the courtyard, thanking Marceline for a delicious dinner, Jude brought it up again. “What say you, Solange? Will you join our cause?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll have to consider it,” Solange answered.

  “What is to consider? Vampirism needs to be stamped out,” Jude said with conviction.

  Solange lifted her chin and adopted the stand she’d seen Marceline use when looking down her nose at someone. “Part of the reason you were aware my mother died, and I was born, is because we are ‘other’ as you say. We are not bad. We are just a family, with a few extra gifts. Not all ‘other’ is bad. I’m not sure I want to be a part of an organization who decides that just because something is different, it’s bad.”

  “I’m very sorry if you’ve misinterpreted what I’ve been trying to say. I don’t in any way think you or your family are bad. You were only tracked because we tracked the vampire Alastair here, and shortly after your mother went missing. That is the only reason we began to watch your family to the level we did. To determine that you were not a cold-blooded killer like Alastair.”

  Marceline, proud of Solange’s defense of her family, inclined her head and took her leave. “I’ll say my good nights now. Safe travels home,” Marceline said before leaving them standing in the foyer, the front door opened and Gillian and Jude facing Solange where she stood in the doorway with the expansive staircase behind her.

  “Think about it, Solange. That’s all I ask,” Gillian said. “Here’s my card,” Gillian explained, taking a card out of the pocket it was tucked into on the outside of her purse, “call me at any time, day or night. I’d be honored to have you join my cell. You don’t have to work with a partner. In fact, most don’t, preferring to work alone. I’m centered here, in New Orleans, right over on Baronne Street.”

  Solange accepted the card. After reading it over quickly, she raised her eyes to Jude. “And you? You work out of this location, too? Is it headquarters?”

  “No, I’m just in for a quick evaluation and back to New York. Our headquarters is in New York. If you prefer, you are welcome to work out of New York, or any other cell you may choose. We have them established in most major cities around the world.”

  Solange looked down at the card in her hand again. She was going after the vampire Alastair. There was never any question of that. But, did she want backup in case she needed it? That was the question. Along with just how closely they’d watch her. She had her own reasons for insisting on complete privacy, and not anyone on the face of this planet but herself and Grandmama needed to know those reasons.

  “I’ll think about it. If I decide that I’d like
to become a part of your organization, I’ll contact you,” Solange said, looking directly at Gillian.

  Jude couldn’t just let things lie as they were. He’d obviously offended Solange, and he’d honestly not meant to. “Solange, I didn’t mean to offend you in any way. I know not all ‘others’ are bad or evil. But vampires? Their history, their actions… they are evil. They have to be eliminated at all costs.”

  Solange just glared at him. “Thank you for coming to dinner. It was quite… informative,” she finished. Solange watched them until they finally turned and started their walk out of the courtyard toward the street a good distance beyond. Solange noticed when Jude, in his very expensive loafers and suit, made every effort to avoid the puddles collected on the flagstones as he made his way though their courtyard.

  Slowly the left side of her mouth curved into a sly smile. She raised her hand ever so slightly and flicked her fore and middle fingers into the air.

  “Oh, come on!” Jude complained, looking up at the deluge of rain that suddenly cascaded over his clothes and favorite shoes. “Can you believe this?” he asked Gillian who stood only a few feet away from him, completely dry, watching him with her mouth hanging open.

  Finally, Jude glanced at her and saw that only he was being rained on. Startled, he spun around, looking at all areas of the courtyard and its lush greenery, fresh and deep green from the weeks of rain they’d been getting, but were at the moment dry. Then he looked again at Gillian who was still dry, before turning back to the front door where Solange stood with a sly smile on her face, waiting for him to figure out she was the cause of his own personal rain shower.

  When he looked back at Solange, he dropped all signs of surprise and just raised his hands palm up while trying to focus on her as the rain coursed down his face from his own personal rain cloud. “Really?” he asked calmly.

  Solange didn’t change her expression at all. But she said the only words that would allow him to know exactly why she’d decided to soak his fancy designer clothes. “My bad,” she said by way of disingenuous apology. “Should have rained on the plants.” Solange flicked her fingers again, and the rain cloud currently drenching Jude moved over to the foliage planted along the far wall.

  “I didn’t say you were bad,” Jude said irritatedly.

  Solange didn’t answer, she just lifted an eyebrow before stepping back inside her home and closing the door, leaving them to see themselves out of her family’s courtyard.

  Gillian and Jude resumed their walk toward the street, with no words spoken. Finally when Jude ventured another look toward Gillian, he couldn’t help but add to her grin with one of his own. “That girl is more powerful than we ever expected,” Gillian said, still grinning.

  “She just commanded the weather, Gillian. I never imagined such a thing was possible,” Jude said, clearly in awe.

  “Let’s hope she joins us,” Gillian said.

  “And let’s try not to piss her off if she does. It’ll cost me a fortune in dry cleaning if she keeps raining on me,” Jude said on a smile of his own, clearly very impressed with Solange’s abilities.

  Sometime later, Solange sat at the vanity in her bedroom, watching her reflection in the mirror. She opened her mouth as widely as she could, pulling her lips tight to examine her teeth. No pointed incisors, no elongated fangs. She leaned closer and peered at her blue eyes, using her thumb and forefinger to wider open her eye. Nope, no indication she was anything other than a young woman on the verge of starting her life on her own terms.

  Solange reached behind her neck, unclasping the golden chain that held the bespelled cross and kept it securely on her person every day of her life. She felt the clasp open, and caught it in her hand, holding it up and watching it loop itself into her other palm as she carefully allowed it to fall into her opposite hand.

  Then slowly she lifted her eyes to the mirror. She was expressionless as she leaned forward and lifted her lip again. There it was, not large, but very easily seen if you knew what you were looking for, her incisors had become somewhat more pointed and slightly enlongated.

  Gradually she raised her eyes to take in the rest of her face reflected there in her vanity mirror. Her heart shaped face, her naturally pinked, plump lips, her flawless, pale complexion, and her heavily lashed eyes, fringed with lashes that were so dark and so long that she seldom bothered to wear mascara. Even now, in the shadows of the room, they perfectly framed her beautifully almond shaped, red glowing eyes.

  Solange was so close to the mirror that her nose almost touched it. She could see herself reflected in it because she was half human, the same reason she could walk in the sunshine, eat garlic and collect crosses to the point of obsession. Had she been fully vampire, the mirror would not have cast her reflection. She looked deep into her own eyes — red since puberty, she looked deep into her own heart. She took a shaky, slow breath and spoke aloud. “I am not bad. Not all ‘others’ are bad.”

  Solange stood as she reached behind her neck, refastening the chain that held her cross. She looked at herself in the mirror again, her blue eyes once again looking back at her. She smiled and saw no evidence of the small points of her incisors. “I may not be good, and I’m certainly cursed, but I’m not evil,” she whispered.

  7

  The sounds of whimpering and the scent of fear hit Crispin hard as he wandered the streets of London. He was barely noticed as he kept to the shadows on his nightly hunt. His senses now alert to the target of his hunt, he closed his eyes, focused on the source of the whimpers and fear, and teleported to the scene he hoped wasn’t as bad as his imagination told him it could be.

  Crispin looked around, there were children huddled in a corner as one of his own — no, that was wrong — this vampire was nothing like him, not anymore anyway. But this creature, the vampire that was death on two legs, evil beyond any level of the imagination, soulless, merciless, and brutal death, held an infant aloft by one leg, watching its squalling, crying, little face and its helplessly flailing arms and legs curiously.

  “Put the babe down, Alastair,” Crispin said calmly.

  Alastair glanced over his shoulder at Crispin, snarling at him like a wild animal, before returning his attention to the infant.

  “You know that even you do not hunt infants. You told me yourself, ‘What’s the sport in one who cannot fight?’. Those were your words. Do you remember, Alastair?”

  Crispin stepped closer to the insane vampire carefully, intent on saving not only the baby, but all the children in this orphanage. But it would not be easy to do. Alastair had lost all sense of himself, his insanity taking him over the brink into an almost rabid state of being. The more brutal and senseless the kill, the more his inner demon was satisfied. Crispin had made it his duty to track Alastair, as best as he could anyway, and try to intervene at each chance he could. True, Alastair needed to feed, but it was not necessary to decimate entire villages, entire families, even one person for that matter. One could feed without causing death, but for the time being, until Crispin could find a way to contain Alastair, he’d accept one death at Alastair’s hands instead of many senseless kills just for the sake of killing.

  “Leave me,” Alastair croaked, low and deadly as he brought the infant closer to himself.

  “Have you truly fallen so low that you would rather hunt defenseless babes than hunt those that make the hunt truly exhilarating?” Crispin asked.

  “Perhaps I’ll hunt you,” Alastair threatened, slowly, calculatedly.

  “You know you cannot. Look at me, Alastair. Do you not know me?” Crispin asked, holding his hands out to the sides for Alastair’s perusal.

  Alastair dropped his hands to his sides, the infant still dangling from Alastair's grip on one of his small ankles. Alastair looked at Crispin, his brow furrowing. He didn’t want to admit he didn’t know this vampire, because apparently the vampire knew him. And the male seemed familiar, but still, he wasn’t quite sure…

  “You should know me. You created me.
Long, long ago. You made me what I am. Do you not remember?” Crispin asked.

  Visions of a young man, in the throes of passion, his lover beneath him, both totally oblivious to the threat that watched them silently in the very same room began to fill Alastair’s head.

  “I’m Crispin. Remember? You attacked and I fought you. Near death, I fought you still. Then you said you were bored with the fools you were forced to suffer eternity with, so you made me like you. You said I would make eternity interesting at the very least.”

  “Crispin,” Alastair mumbled, his fractured mind trying to put the pieces together. Then he smiled. “I killed your female,” he finally said.

  “She wasn’t my female, but you did kill her. Right after you forced me to feed from her to complete the change you put upon me.”

  “I gifted you the change!” Alastair screamed, his filthy, greasy hair rustling with his movements, spittle flying from his dirty, bloodstained face.

  “Did you? Well, then doesn’t that make you my benefactor? Perhaps my gracious benefactor would care to gift me the babe you hold, then together we can go out and feast on the night,” Crispin invited. “Prove to me that the great Alastair, one of the oldest of us all, hasn’t fallen from grace as the rumormongers claim,” Crispin taunted gently. Dealing with Alastair was an act akin to walking a tightrope one hundred feet in the air. He was completely insane, any little word could set him off, and had. Crispin had detested his existence for so long he was almost thankful to have a new focus — keeping the vampire who’d made him a vampire in his own right from slaughtering innocents whenever he could.

  Alastair looked down to the now screaming baby dangling from his hand by one leg and lifted it to inspect it once more. “Why won’t it shut up?!” Alastair asked. Then he looked at Crispin. “Here, you may have the damned thing. I’m away to find more entertaining prey. You tell the gossipmongers, they are next.” With that, Alastair tossed the baby in the general direction of Crispin, then he was gone, seeming to have evaporated into thin air.