“You’re foolish. This isn’t the dark ages.”
Kahina stupidly ignored the substantial threat on her life. I remembered wondering, ‘why would she bother for me?’ My vices were many; I drank too much, fought everything that moved, gambled, and got angry easy. Even the past versions of Jay had been rather unsavory. Kahina Rhodes deserved better. But at the same time letting her go felt impossible, she was mine.
In my memory I groaned and stepped away to start packing again. Shirts were switched out, more durable ones put in. I had been so certain our separation would be final, and the only sane choice left to me.
“You expect me to just forget you?”
I'd held a pair of pants and slowly set them down with a sigh. As the memory played on part of my modern brain screamed ‘Don’t do it. Just stay.’ Only because leaving had been useless in the long run. Five years had passed since this memory of Kahina and me in the basement.
In times’ wake sat broken relationships, confetti memories, self-doubt, and all for nothing. Now that I was probably captured and locked away somewhere, the results were worse than nothing. The past kept me from worrying about current events for another moment or two.
“No.” I picked up the pants again and rubbed my fingers along the fabric. Each grain and ripple tingled along my senses from both sides but the motion barely soothed me.
I wasn’t stupid enough to believe Kahina would move on or forget me. Yet, I needed her to, and hoped we might both let each other go. In the end, that would save us from this dangerous relationship. That way the world would keep going.
“Think about this, what it means for both of us! Our friends!” she pleaded again while stepping closer.
“It means you'll get to live,” I whispered. Those words hadn't been intended for her to hear.
There was a pause in her responses. I could hear sniffling, then a giant unsavory snort that made pigs sound polite. It had almost made me smile. She made those same sounds when we went out to plays, especially the tragedies. She loved tragedies.
Maybe she always knew how we’d end.
“How can you place so much faith in that feather brained thing?” she finally asked. Kahina and Muni met months before this memory, and neither had been impressed with the other. The women in my life rarely got along. Julianne and Kahina were the exception, not the norm.
“She has a name.”
“It's stupid. This is all so stupid! You're an idiot!”
I didn't have to see her to know that her arms were crossed and face upturned. Kahina argued with the wall. She'd be more successful there anyway.
“The trinket Muni has will help you forget and help me forget. It will help everyone who ever knew me forget who I am. They won’t know to look for me, and won’t go after you just to push me. We can buy time,” I said.
I didn't mention Muni would be removing a chunk of people's memories. Not everything —taking too much would leave a person witless. I'd be remembered in some form, and I would be able to recall portions of my life. It would be enough to keep me going, even if all that was left was half a man.
“And you believe Daniel will just solve your problems while you're out playing clueless vagabond?” She snorted again. “I doubt it.”
“It's the best option.”
I almost lost the thread of my past then and there. That belief of mine which somehow linked her safety to my presence had been stupid.
Still, at the time I could recall the certainty that our separation was her best chance. I would go away, she and everyone else would forget to an extent, and Western Sector could do their damnedest to hold off the end of times. Daniel had plans, he was an endless maze of plots, contingencies and alternate routes five layers deep.
If I was out of the way the Order would go back to business as normal, instead of trying to flush me out by targeting those dear to me. If this went right the Order would forget I'd ever been near Kahina, Julianne, or Roy and our family. They’d all forget, until we were ready or we couldn’t stall anymore.
“What if someone else sweeps me off my feet?” She sniffed while talking. I tried not to cringe as my mind silently prayed she would find someone.
Someone better, with fewer flaws, and who could keep her safe.
“Well?” Kahina demanded.
There were no good answers.
“This is because—” She started to ask a question but my head shook rapidly.
“No, it's not. We've been over this.” I shoved another bit of clothing into my bag while searching for more necessities.
“You keep saying that, but I know it bothered you. That's the real reason you're leaving.”
Yet again I stopped packing, and stood there thinking of what to say. I'd never been a man blessed with a serpent’s tongue, no honeyed words flowed forth even if I tried. How could anyone expect me to be reassuring? No wonder Kahina worried about my reactions.
“We both knew what might happen,” I said.
“But...”
Actions were louder than words. I quickly walked over and wrapped my arms around her, pressing us together. Her body stiffened and struggled to break free. She stopped after a few seconds but stayed tense.
“I was in the wrong.” I spoke slowly and carefully.
“But I took your blood.” She kept her voice steady.
“I wanted you to have it, remember?” My instincts had kicked in and things turned violent afterward. “Intent should have been enough, I refuse to blame you for defending yourself.”
We'd tried to follow an old ritual her kind practiced for a pairing between human and vampire. Even being a partial, like she was at the time, our bond would have created a link. It should have been a magnetic pull that would help draw people together. If I were human it'd also smooth the transition for shifting to full vampire.
I wasn't human. I knew it, she knew it, and that was the crux of our problem. Drinking even a little bit of my blood had roused me to anger. Then I became violent while Kahina reacted in defense and desire by aiming for more blood yet trying to fend off my rampage.
Walls had holes punched into plaster. Cops had been called and only Julianne's interference kept things remotely civil. It helped that normal police wouldn't touch a vampire case unless forced.
Julianne drove an upset Kahina home. My girlfriend had slept in her own apartment while I passed out on my bed in the basement, tossing and turning the entire time. It took a week for us to start talking again.
There was no safe word that would have helped for what we'd done. No perfect preparation, or taking it slower. We'd started as basic as possible and things had gone downhill.
“You know that's not the reason,” I said again.
“But I nearly killed you.” She was being silly. It would take a lot more than some blood sport to kill me. I survived gunshots, stabbings, arms breaking, and being thrown off buildings.
“And I you.”
“But I forgave you.” She sounded tired.
“And I you,” I repeated again.
“You're afraid to stay.” Her words grew quieter. Somehow we managed to fall onto the bed. Her hand trailed a familiar path up my chest.
Fear wasn't easy to admit. “I am.”
“They might really kill me?” she asked.
“And worse.”
“I still don't understand what that means.”
Back then I hadn't explained the real problem to her. Maybe if I had laid out everything in plain words and figured out a plan that involved her, history would have been different. There was no way to make reality sound sane. How could I explain that my death, in the right circumstances, might unravel the world? Or worse, bathing in a vat of my blood could transform a human into a creature of madness and power.
No one understood what another Merlin might do and the Purge made sharing the truth publicly impossible. Another human baptized in the blood of a monster like myself could steal the elemental gives and the power of command. Kingdoms had been razed to the grou
nd as one man, the most legendary Merlin, tried to take over the entire Emerald Sector and waged war on Rome itself.
The man had been insane and led humans along a second genocide. His manifesto babbled on about wiping out wolves, vampires, and elves. Daniel showed me the records once citing that Merlin's entire family had been wiped out by wolves gone rogue. The legendary figure’s hatred ran deep. The sector agent and I had talked about it, comparing Hunter histories with the things I knew.
And I knew things he didn't. Not because of personal experience. No, I understood the dangers because my father's voice had told me so. His advice whispered in the far reaches of my mind. There were rules to live by, and warnings from the things he'd learned in a lifetime. We had an entire family line of lessons passed down from father to offspring, generational knowledge that had been embedded into my mind during gestation.
I'd never actually met the voice’s owner. His guidance was often deceptive in its simplicity, repetitive, almost always in threes. There, in the past where I held Kahina in a memory, his words repeated.
Beware those with skins of envy.
Beware those who den in fear.
Beware those who breathe out hate.
The Order of Merlin did all those, even if they covered it up with other names. Preaching all non-humans should have been removed during The Purge was one example. They were also willing to kill for their goals and, based on my slowly recovering memories, wanted to recreate a Merlin in this modern era.
I had to become scarce. Daniel Crumfield, a Western Sector agent I'd known for most of my life, was of the same mind in this. The sooner I became invisible the safer everyone was. Making Kahina and everyone else forget would only add another layer of protection. They needed protection and I wouldn’t be in a place to provide it.
My mind was addled and memories distorted. Too many bits were coming back to me in the wrong order. I focused on the memory of leaving Kahina the first time.
“Will you come back?” Kahina asked in the relaying memory.
I nodded and responded, “If I can.”
“When?” she asked.
“I don't know.”
The lull was a fragile thing. I could almost feel it—struggling to hold onto hope coupled with a fear of loss. They were warring emotions that ruled our lives.
“I don't like this,” she said. In that moment Kahina showed her first tone of depressive resignation. I didn't want to spend our last moments arguing. Maybe she didn't either.
“When I return, you'll be a big shot vampire. You won't need a thug like me.”
She snorted at my statement but it sounded snotty. “Please. I can’t replace you.”
“You’ll have a house full of servants. Plus some old vampire trying to control you. And your father will be happy to see me move on.”
“I won't make it through the transition.”
“You will,” I said and attempted a smile. “You've got my blood in you. Even a little will make the difference. It’s how it all started, you may be the purest vampire to exist in millennia.” I knew, because my father knew, and his father, and his father back at least six generations.
“But I won't have you,” Kahina said.
“I'll come back. It’s impossible for me to stay away forever.”
“I hope so.” She nestled closer but wasn’t looking for anything beyond the reassuring comfort of being near. That was fine, I was too mentally drained for sex anyway. It wasn't like she was alone in being upset.
After this memory, the next day, we wouldn’t be together in the same way. What we were would become a distorted version of the truth once Muni blocked parts of my memory.
“I'll wait for you, Jay,” she said so quietly I almost doubted my own ears. But we were in my home and everything here I felt as if it were my own arms or legs. Each stir of air like it passed through my lungs. Tying me to her had been unavoidable.
I tried not to dwell on doubt and worry. Back then there was hope the new version of Jay Fields wouldn't foul things up too badly. My only memories would be skewed versions of the past. Muni was ordered to focus on magnifying bad events which would keep me too upset to return.
Thoughts about my unseen father floated through. He had other lessons regarding the claim I laid over Kahina and others. Just by knowing people I felt the connections slowly come together. Close friends, things, places, even the patchwork family I'd built around myself.
His words always passed through with a slow yet demanding rumble. Whenever I pictured the words in English they almost always sounded straight from the Emerald Isles, a proper gentleman, but so very worn out.
Still, his words were unbroken, unceasing, almost a mantra.
What you claim defines you.
What you claim relies on you.
What you claim wounds you.
Those words were formal dressing for a singular idea. What I claimed, was me, in a sense, with all the dangers that represented. It would wound me to leave her, so much that the only way to make it possible was to have my memories altered.
I sat there with Kahina under one arm, staring at the ceiling of my cluttered bedroom, and searched through my father's words for any wisdom that could be gleaned; anything that would give my chosen path a hope of success.
I came up blank.
The next day Muni had gutted parts of my memories and smeared over other blocks. There were many items that were too dangerous to leave in one piece. My nature couldn't be buried completely without a mental crippling.
I nearly killed the raven headed woman. Roy's family had held me back, struggling, gasping, and finally sobbing. My blood and memories were vital possessions that sent me into a fit like any theft.
After the mental blender I woke on a bus headed east.
Julianne had agreed to keep my apartment. Theoretically I'd travel and find work, which I had. My memory would be shoveled around to think I needed to send cash home to pay for the space. Doing so would signal to Daniel and others that I was alive. Chances were I'd barely find enough to survive, so the rent would probably come out of my other finances.
Hell, I remembered now. I had more money than anyone rightfully needed. Bottom Pit paid out a share of its profits to all members of the family and plenty of cash was stored away from fighting.
My mind drifted in and out. That bit with Kahina and the past had been the clearest memory to resurface. A dozen others sat in jumbles sorting themselves chronologically before playing. Muni's mechanisms couldn’t be undone so easily.
I managed to remember Daniel's stupid code word, for all the good that knowledge did. The man was probably off in deep cover with the Order of Merlin. Last I'd heard, from one of his other Sector agent pals, Daniel was one of the faithful and had escaped the compound before the feds showed up.
Hell. I shoved all the images from my past away and surfaced. Both eyes fluttered letting in natural light. The world felt heavy and uncomfortable. Skin on my arms puckered in spots, things lodged under flesh that stung when I tried to twitch an arm. Both thighs were tied down.
My eyes were open but the sensation of using them felt alien and disjointed. A pale green color covered everything. Beeps pulsed through the air. I tried to swivel my head to the side but failed. My neck was braced. I attempted to lift an arm and found it equally restricted. A rattle of handcuffs was distinctive enough to set alarm bells off in my mind.
I tilted my wrist, then twisted fingers around a chain linking me to the bed. For a third time I tried to curse but my throat didn’t work. Those were definitely handcuffs.
If that was the case, someone should be in as soon as they noticed their prisoner was conscious. Escaping might be possible. I tugged at the arm again, now that I knew what was holding me down.
My hand refused to form a proper grip and my muscles were lethargic. Nothing functioned in a desired manner. I clenched my eyes, trying to stop the world from spinning. My mind tried to focus on ownership to pull a bit of strength for escape. Nothing cam
e forth. No surge of energy and none of the primal thoughts which sounded like a rock born caveman.
There had been a name for that voice. What had my father called it? Memories swam over me, blocking thoughts of escape. Words rumbled with pieces of history and people I'd fought in flashes. Roy, Tal, his family, we’d had endless hours of brutal sparring in the early morning in an effort to perfect their dances. I enjoyed the battle as much as they did.
Daniel had fed me leads and I'd found him missing persons, fugitives, criminals in hiding as an exchange of favors. Most of the waitresses at Bottom Pit had been brought back by me. They were a collective result of my efforts from fifteen to twenty-five.
Roy and Tal, they were the first. His son Leo, the one who'd tried to rescue me, hadn't even been born then. I'd run into scattered others of whatever race Roy belonged to and each had been lost. Each one attracted to the fighting circuits because of their love of combat.
I'd freed three girls from a vampire household on the east coast. The fang face kept them in chains because of their unnatural beauty and submissive personalities. They couldn't help how their race made them. Out of all the Hidden I’d tracked over the years, those types of girls were the most prevalent. Females like them had survived The Purge where most other races were broken. No one found a glorified sex slave to be a threat, but every man in power wanted more.
My reverie snapped when I heard distinct footsteps outside the jumble of memories. Two people approached. One had heavy sounding footsteps and the weight of a larger man. Cigar smoke preceded him entering the room. The second set of feet was lighter, less hurried, and almost lazy.
“Good, you're awake. Now I can charge you and get you out of my backyard,” a gruff voice uttered. The man sounded like every grumpy police officer to cross my path.
I didn't say anything.
“I'm guessing you already know your rights, but in case you slept through the last go round, here they are,” he said.
They must have run my prints. As the former version of Jay, I believed I had no Sector Identification, number, or affiliation and lived off the grid. That part of my history had been a lie. I did exist on paper. A rather long record was tied to these hands.
Prince in the Tower Page 2