“Your Majesty!”
“Where’s Mathilda?” Jolie asked, sharply.
“I didn’t get that far.” The man gulped in a breath. “The Daywalkers are revolting!”
SEVENTEEN
Sinjin
“You are the first person to get past the third trial by using your own arrogance to accept your true self. Very interesting.”
I looked up into the golden eyes of Gaia and shrugged, “I play to my strengths.”
I was doing my best to exude an air of confidence—something at which I am customarily adept—but coming face to face with The Mother was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
Before I left Kinloch Kirk, Mathilda had told me that Gaia would break me. She had been right, though I had not, at the time, understood what she meant.
The last part of the journey, through the tunnels, assailed on all sides by memories of my past and voices from my present, had been almost more than I could stand. It had not been a test of strength, mental nor physical. It had been a test of survival, of whether or not I could survive myself .
Faced with all I had done and all that I was, could I walk on? In a long life, I have faced many things, but I have studiously avoided having to face myself. Vampires do not cast reflections; some of us choose to extend that truth to also avoid self-examination.
And after going through everything I had, there was, finally, Gaia herself, sublimely massive, so that she seemed to be the landscape itself. In fact, wherever I was, there seemed to be
nothing but Gaia. Wherever I looked, there was only her. She defined her realm.
“Why have you come here, little vampire?”
“I want…” I checked my tone. “That is; I have come to ask a favor.”
“A favor?” She sounded amused.
“I would be happy to offer something in return,” I added.
“Anything I can give you or do for you—you are welcome to name your price. But I have a feeling there is nothing I have that you want. And if I did, then you could just as easily take it from me. So asking a favor is really the only option open to me.”
“Would you give your life for this favor?”
I could not tell if we were striking a deal, but it also did not matter. “In an instant.”
A smile like a crescent moon spread across Gaia’s endless face.
“I see the truth in your words. Ask your favor, little vampire.”
I took a deep breath. This was the moment for which I had come all this way, and I would only have one chance to get it right.
“Not so long ago, I fell in love. It is not something that I ever expected to happen—and still less—as the woman in question is an Elemental. By a fortunate chance, she also fell in love with me.
Sometimes I wonder why. I have a high opinion of myself—why would I not? But I still wonder why, because Bryn is beyond extraordinary and beyond anything I deserve.”
I paused as I attempted to put the rest into words.
“Go on,” Gaia said, eyeing me with amusement.
“I do not know how someone like me, who has done all that I have done, should ever have been so lucky as to win the love of a woman so much better than me in almost every way. And my luck did not stop there. I am sure you are aware (better than most, in fact) that vampires cannot father children in the messy mortal fashion of below waist fluid exchange.” I shrugged. “We have fun with the process, but nothing results.” At this, Gaia laughed. I continued. “Our offspring are born through blood. But Bryn and I conceived a child together. A vampire and an Elemental; the first of its kind as far as we know.”
“Interesting,” Gaia said with a small nod.
I returned the nod. “I cannot express to you the happiness we both felt at this. But now something is wrong with the child. I do not know what. My Bryn is a sensitive and was able to sense the thoughts of the living child within her. Those thoughts have vanished while the baby itself remains, apparently alive and
healthy, but silent. Something is wrong, and no one can tell us what or how to fix it.” I paused and then faced her. “I have come to you, great Mother, to ask… nay, I have come to you to beg for your help.”
There was a silence that felt like an eternity before Gaia’s voice rumbled again. “Why the long story, little vampire? Why did you not simply ask your favor?”
There was no point in lying to Gaia. “I was hoping the story might win your sympathy.”
“Do you imagine that I have any sympathy to give?”
“I do not know,” I replied, honestly. “But if I did not try everything, whether it would work or not, I would feel I was letting down my Bryn.”
“What reason would I have for granting you this favor?”
I considered the question. “None that I can think of.” I hesitated, then spoke again. “On the other hand, I cannot think of any reason for you not to grant it either. It does not benefit you, but nor does it hurt you.”
Gaia’s deep chuckle made the world shake. “Hardly an enticement, little vampire.”
“True,” I admitted. “But you are talking to me—which you certainly did not have to do. I wonder if, perhaps, I interest you a little?”
“A little.”
“Well, if I interest you, then surely my unborn child must be fascinating. One of a kind.”
“I will admit,” acknowledged Gaia, “that the conception of her did not escape my notice.”
My mouth went dry. “Her?” Gaia had definitely referred to the child as ‘her’. “My baby is a girl?”
“You did not know?”
“We decided not to find out. To let it be a surprise, though Bryn and her sister have been referring to the child as a female.”
The sky moved as Gaia shrugged. “Oh, well, didn’t mean to spoil it for you. I can void the knowledge from your mind if you would prefer?”
“No, no.” I hastened to stop her, not liking the idea of a powerful entity poking about in my sub-conscious. “Now that I
know... I am glad I do.” It made the sprog seem suddenly a person; my little girl.
“You are a curiosity, little vampire,” mused Gaia.
“I have been told this.”
“You seem arrogant…”
“Guilty.”
“Selfish…”
“It is possible.”
“Narcissistic to the point of self-obsession.”
“The mirror does love me.”
“And yet you are here, willing to endanger or even sacrifice yourself for another,” Gaia observed. “Quite a curiosity.”
“Does that mean you will help me?” I asked, hopefully.
“No.”
“No, it does not mean you will help me or no you will not help me?”
“I will have to think about it,” replied Gaia.
“I understand,” I said, tense and on edge. “Should I wait here?”
“How long do your kind live, little vampire?”
I was somewhat surprised she did not know, but of course The Mother was concerned with birth, not death.
“We are considered long-lived by the standards of our world,” I replied. “But not by your measure.”
“Few are,” admitted Gaia. “I must confess, I know little of your species, little vampire. I am life, conception, birth. I am the act and the representation of it. But you… The person you were born as is long gone, replaced by this… thing.” She flicked a moon-sized finger at me. “You are dead; you live off death. Your kind are not born and cannot conceive. You are the antithesis of everything I am. Perhaps that is why you interest me. The idea that one of you living dead could create life…” She shook her massive head, and it was like watching continental drift in action. “Life from death. It is unavoidably interesting.”
“Well, I am quite flattered,” I started, though I was not sure if I should have been flattered or offended.
“A problem with the baby you say?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“And you know no more t
han that?”
“No one knows what is wrong with it… her.” I relished the word.
What might she look like? Hopefully like Bryn. For as beautiful as I considered myself, I was not certain how my looks would translate in a girl.
“I will have to think about it,” Gaia repeated.
“Do you know what is wrong with her?” I dared to ask, unable to stop myself.
“Of course I do.”
I wanted to scream, ‘ Then just tell me!’ . But I knew such would achieve nothing. The motives of a being as old as Gaia were hard to understand. For her, my entire lifespan was the blinking of an eye; why should she care about such ephemeral creatures? We were mayflies to her, flitting about for one day before dying.
“Do you mind if I ask for how long you need to think?” I asked.
“Time is more of a factor for me than it is for you.”
“Not long,” rumbled Gaia. “By your reckoning, a few thousand years.”
I caught my breath. “That is quite a long time to a creature like me.”
“I know.” Gaia waved off the objection. “But I dislike being rushed. Time does not pass here as it does in your world. You have already been here over two hundred years, little vampire.”
The bottom seemed to drop out of my stomach. Two hundred years?
The baby was long gone. Bryn was dead. In the course of a short conversation, the whole purpose of my coming here had been lost.
“Why did you not tell me?” I practically screamed through gritted teeth.
“I would not have been able to speak to you at your normal pace,”
replied Gaia with a shrug. “No more than you could converse with a flea, another blood-sucker.”
“But Bryn… the sprog…” I finally lost my temper; nothing mattered now anyway. “Damn you! You cruel, self-interested…”
Gaia’s laughter shook the world, sending me tumbling to my knees.
“You’re a brave one, little vampire. Or stupid. You may think you’ve lost everything, but I could make the next few millennia of your existence more painful than anything you could possibly imagine. Worry not. Time here is not like time there.”
“So Bryn is not dead?”
Gaia shrugged again. “There are many possible outcomes. But when I send you back— if I send you back—your woman and your child will still be there as you left them. Now be silent. I need to think.”
I was not sure how long I waited while Gaia was silent. It seemed like a long time, but with Bryn on my mind, time passed slowly. I tried to distract myself by thinking of other things.
A girl.
When all this was over, if all went well, Bryn and I would be the parents of a daughter. I imagined how she might look; a little Bryn, surely.
Would she get my blue eyes or Bryn’s blue eyes? Would she inherit her mother’s sensitivity and be able to guess my moods while still in her cot? If she had my fangs, then breastfeeding was going to be a bitch. Would we send her out to school or tutor her from home?
Mathilda and Mercedes would be excellent (though very different) teachers. She would grow up close to her older cousin, Emma. They would fight from time to time as children do, but it would always be alright in the end, for they would be as close as sisters.
Would she have actual siblings of her own? Perhaps, but I doubted it. It seemed the remains of my brief stint as a human were fading as the days went on.
But back to my daughter… She would be childish and playful, then teenage and moody, then young and idealistic. Would she age like me or like Bryn? Or perhaps some combination.
One day she would leave us to travel, and even as we strove to hold onto her, we would know we had to let her go out and see the world and live her life, just as we had when we were her age. She would find her own path and do good in the world. She could be anything she wanted to be, and we would always be there for her, the rocks on which she stood, the foundations on which she built her fantastic life.
By the time Gaia cleared her throat to speak again, I had lived a lifetime with my girl; all the highs and lows, the happiness and sadness; the gains and losses. I had fallen in love with this little person I had not even met yet, and I was less willing than ever to let her go.
“Are you still there, little vampire? I have thought.”
“Yes, I am still here. And what have you decided?” I asked.
“It is rare that one from your world finds their way to mine. And your child is of interest.” Gaia paused. “But no. I will not help you. Rules are rules, and the world is the way it is. Exceptions cannot be made. But, because you have made such an effort to come here and because you do interest me, I will allow you to leave.”
“No.”
The weight of her words had hit me like a sledgehammer. But with the horror came a strange kind of numbing calm. If I could not leave with a yes. I would not leave.
“No, little vampire?”
“I will not leave.”
“Then I will send you away.”
“Then I will return,” I said, simply. “For as many times as it takes.”
“You know I could simply end you.”
I nodded. “Then you had better do it now, because I swear on my life, on the life of my love and on that of my little girl, that killing me is the only way you are getting rid of me, Gaia.” I paused for a moment and then stood resolutely, my chin held high.
“You mentioned a flea earlier—I shall be as irritating to you as a flea. One that refuses to leave you be.”
Gaia tutted to herself. “Such a curious creature. So passionate.
It is odd; you matter as little as a grain of sand on the beach, and yet I find myself loath to destroy you.”
“I am honored.”
Gaia paused, thinking again, but quickly this time. “Very well, Sinjin Sinclair, Master Vampire. You win.”
My mouth went dry. “You will tell me what is wrong with my baby?”
“I will. And I look forward to seeing how you deal with it.”
EIGHTEEN
Bryn
Rushing out into the cool early evening air, I could already catch the scent of smoke on the breeze. Across the little wood that separated Kinloch Kirk from the camp, I could see a red haze against the night sky, and plumes of black smoke rising.
“They’ve set fire to the fence!”
I didn’t know who said it.
There were people running this way and that; mass panic resulting in mass chaos. What could we expect? All most people knew was the Daywalkers had been interned for the good of the community, and now they were breaking free. The people who, for over a month, had been their neighbors and friends were now that terror that descended on them in the night. They’d been told to be scared of the Daywalkers, and now they were.
It worked both ways. This was what happened when you locked people away like animals in a zoo. We’d locked up the Daywalkers, treated them like criminals and made them feel like criminals, so now they were behaving like criminals. They were determined to be as dangerous as we’d made them out to be.
I knew what I had to do now.
I have to go home and keep my baby safe. The thought polluted my mind.
Instead, I ran straight towards the camp. I might be struggling with my mind, but I was still Bryn, still a warrior, still determined to do what I could. Whatever was going on here, it couldn’t change that about me.
As I ran, I could hear the voices of Dureau and Rand behind me, calling out the guard, telling people to get weapons. This was it. The moment had come that Odran had warned me about; the time to pick sides. And as I ran towards the Daywalker camp, I realized I’d already picked mine. All my friends might be on the other side, but I knew what was right, and I wouldn’t stand by while innocent people were killed. Of course there was a chance those innocent people would attack me before I got a chance to tell them I was on their side, but I would deal with that when I came to it.
Before I reached the wood that separated us and the
m, someone grabbed my arm and yanked me back.
“Where are you going?” asked Dureau.
“Where do think?” I snapped back.
Dureau’s face twisted, reflecting inner conflict. “No. Sinjin told me to keep you safe and damn it, I’m not having that vampire bastard on my back, saying I let you die.”
“You’re already talking about people dying?” I could have slapped him. “No one has to die here today, Dureau. Think about what you’re saying.”
“We have a right to defend ourselves!”
“Against what? They don’t have weapons! You did a house to house search and confiscated anything sharper than a butter knife. They
don’t even have proper scissors! Please, Dureau, think clearly.
None of this makes sense.”
I could see the inner battle in his face and his eyes. Part of him knew this was wrong and what I was saying was true. But that part of him was no longer pulling the strings.
“I’m sorry, Bryn, but we can’t let the Daywalkers escape. They’re the agents of Luce! All of them. They have to stay here. And if they won’t do it of their own accord, then we’ll make them stay by whatever means necessary.”
It had never been more clear to me that something was wrong. The Dureau I knew would never say anything like that. “When this is over, I really hope you can live with yourself.”
“I’ll sleep fine knowing I protected my home and the ones I love.” He really seemed to believe the words coming from his mouth. “Now, you’re going back to your house, and I’m putting a guard on your door to make sure you stay there.”
That was something else the old Dureau would never have been dumb enough to say, especially not to me. He would’ve known that forbidding me from doing something was a red flag to a bull.
Nobody treated me like the ‘little woman’ who had to do as her man instructed.
Dureau doubled over in sudden pain as I kicked him in the balls.
Frankly, I felt like he’d earned it for some of things he’d said and done lately. As he went down, clutching his injured area, I wrenched free from his grip and made a dash for the woods.
Passing between the trunks, I heard a roar of anger from behind me, mingled with discomfort. I glanced back to see Dureau lurching after me, still moving a little bow-legged, like an old cowboy, as he waited for his ‘boy’s to drop back down to where they belonged.
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