A Shade of Vampire 63: A Jungle of Rogues

by Bella Forrest

  “As it should be!” the four Perfects repeated after him, with pride and confidence.

  “I guess the propaganda worked,” Lucas said with a scoff, raising an eyebrow. “But, tell you what, Abaddon. Come talk to us if you manage to catch our people. I have a feeling it will be a while before we see each other again.”

  Abaddon grinned. “Your overconfidence is almost adorable.”

  “And your idiotic arrogance is downright hilarious. I’m still wondering if you are what Ta’Zan meant by ‘superior intelligence,’ because I’m starting to think Ta’Zan hasn’t gotten out much. If yours is the brightness standard he wants for his so-called Perfect army, he’s absolutely screwed,” Lucas replied.

  “Uncle Lucas, that was a very elaborate and eloquent burn. Well played,” Jovi said.

  Lucas gave him a wink. “Thank you. It flowed quite naturally, too.”

  “I noticed. You’re getting better and better, each day. Soon enough, these chicken-winged bastards will stroke out whenever you speak. They don’t respond well to creatures of superior intelligence, as you can see,” Jovi said.

  The exchange made Abaddon turn red with rage. He tried to come at us, but the Perfects held him back. The guards moved toward him, as well, reminding him of the power of their authority. Ta’Zan’s orders were specific and could not be disobeyed.

  “I’ll kill your loved ones. I’m sure there are plenty of them back on whatever planet you came from,” Abaddon replied, gritting his teeth. “I’ll tear them apart, limb by limb, and I will make sure you see it all, up close and personal. I promise.”

  Just as Jovi opened his mouth to respond, Ta’Zan’s calm and smooth voice echoed through the dome. “You shouldn’t make promises you cannot keep, Abaddon.”

  Abaddon froze.

  Chills gripped my spine and made my throat close up.

  For a moment, time stood still, as we all became aware of Ta’Zan’s presence. He had this way about him—it demanded our full attention. He was our nemesis and our captor, and yet, I couldn’t help but find myself fascinated by him.

  He stepped into the room, wearing his silvery silk tunic and keeping his hands behind his back. His gray hair was loosely braided down his back. His eyes—one blue and one green, both piercing and savage—settled on Abaddon, who lost his voice and his color in a millisecond.

  Ta’Zan terrified him, to his core.

  There had to be something about this creature, something he was capable of doing, in particular, that inspired such dread in Abaddon and his siblings. I made it my mission to find out what that was.

  Sofia

  It took considerable effort not to laugh at how quickly Abaddon had gone from powerful and menacing Perfect to mewling, trembling little kitten at the sight of Ta’Zan. In all fairness, Ta’Zan creeped us all out, but none of us shivered like Abaddon.

  The Perfect had trouble controlling his own nature. His violence and arrogance seemed to run deeper than his fear of Ta’Zan and the repercussions he would suffer if he disobeyed. He simply couldn’t control himself, and that was a card I was intent on playing, over and over again, until he ended up as “garden fertilizer,” to quote Amal.

  “Father… I… I was just—” Abaddon tried to speak, but Ta’Zan didn’t have any patience left.

  “You were taunting and picking a fight with my specimens, despite my precise order not to do that.” Ta’Zan cut him off. “How many times am I going to have to reprimand you, before I take you out completely?”

  “Father, no! I was good—I didn’t fight them! They fought me! They came at me! That one over there!” Abaddon replied, pointing a nervous finger at Claudia, who was finally coming to. “Then the others!” he added, singling out Jovi and Varga, too.

  “He came in looking for trouble,” I said firmly. “He didn’t have to throw the first punch to start a fight. That wasn’t his intention, anyway. He just needed one of us to lose control first, so he’d have an excuse to strike back.”

  “Shut your mouth, you little—” Abaddon growled at me, but Ta’Zan silenced him simply by raising his hand in the air. The Perfect swallowed the rest of his words.

  “Abaddon, remove yourself from my presence at once. You have work to do. Don’t make me regret the job I gave you,” Ta’Zan said.

  Abaddon nodded once, then motioned for his four companions to join him. They stormed out of the domed hall. A couple of seconds later, I could breathe again. There was something about him—something so dark and toxic that it oozed out of him and thickened the air. As soon as he was out, the entire atmosphere changed.

  Isda, Monos, and the other two Faulties continued distributing food bowls among our people, while Amal pushed the medical cart closer to us. She nodded at Heath first.

  “Come over, please. It’s time to change your bandages,” she said.

  Heath grumbled something under his breath, but went to her nonetheless. He wasn’t happy with his circumstances, but he had no choice.

  “Don’t be upset, Heath,” Ta’Zan interjected, looking slightly amused. “A couple more of Amal’s treatments, and you’ll only need a few drops of vampire blood to complete your recovery. Your friends here will be more than happy to help.”

  “What are you doing here, Ta’Zan?” Derek asked, his brow furrowed.

  Amal took care of Heath’s wounds, while the other prisoners in need of fresh bandages lined up behind the dragon. They’d gotten used to the motions already. This was the first time that Amal’s medical care services overlapped with the feeding. To most, it didn’t say much. To me, on the other hand, especially with Ta’Zan in the room, it spoke volumes, because I had a front row seat to all the relevant expressions and stolen glances.

  “Just stopping by,” Ta’Zan said to Derek. “I need some additional samples, and Amal here will help me.”

  Amal gave him a brief nod. “Which creatures, Father?”

  Ta’Zan scanned the entire crowd, narrowing his eyes as he focused on Jax and Hansa. “Those two,” he said. “A Mara and a succubus. They’re clearly a couple, despite their opposing biology. I’d like to see if we can crossbreed them despite the blood incompatibility.”

  That troubled both Hansa and Jax. In fact, it hit them deep—I knew because they’d been talking about settling down and forming a family. Given Hansa’s silver blood, the chances that she would be able to carry a Mara’s baby to term were slim to none. Silver was, after all, toxic to the Maras. If Ta’Zan could actually create a hybrid from Hansa’s and Jax’s genes, it was going to hurt them both. They would’ve loved a child of their own, after all, but not to see it indoctrinated and turned against the entire universe by Ta’Zan.

  “Lift some more from the dragon, too,” Ta’Zan added. “I’m feeling creative today.”

  “Do you have any idea how disturbed that sounds?” Lucas sighed, shaking his head in disgust.

  Ta’Zan gave him a dry half-smile. “I’m a god, Lucas. I create life. In fact, I create some incredible forms of life, and I’m looking to elevate my game. If you think that’s disturbing, then you have no appreciation for the miracle of life itself.”

  Lucas laughed wholeheartedly. “Really, Ta’Zan? I don’t appreciate life?”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” Derek interjected, wearing a sad smile.

  Ta’Zan seemed confused. “Am I missing something here? Perhaps an interesting anecdote about your past experiences?”

  “And then some,” Lucas said, crossing his arms. “I died, Ta’Zan. I died, and I was brought back. I know exactly how precious and how beautiful life is. You, on the other hand, have no idea. You think you do. You’re clearly brilliant enough to understand it. But you’re too busy playing God and tooting your own horn to fully grasp the entire concept.”

  Ta’Zan exhaled sharply, then looked at Derek. “Do you feel the same way?”

  Derek replied with a nod. “You value the life that you created, in your lab. The lives you use to create are also important, but not as much as you
r Perfects. Everyone else is worthless, in your view, which is why you’re so hell-bent on destroying all of the existing civilizations. You claim to celebrate and cherish the value of life, but you have no qualms about wiping us all off the map, simply because you think your creations are better. No one put you in charge of the universe, Ta’Zan. It doesn’t work like that.”

  “It does if I say it does,” Ta’Zan replied dryly. “I have the knowledge and the power to change the oldest of rules. I get that it doesn’t sit well with you, Derek, but this is a new world, which I’m reshaping to my own liking. I suggest you really make an effort to integrate and enjoy living here. The life you know is gone.”

  Amal was quiet, but I noticed the frown sneaking between her eyebrows as she drew some of Heath’s blood with a small syringe. She then took out two others, motioning for Jax and Hansa to come closer. Heath grunted as he moved back, while Jax and Hansa reluctantly walked over to Amal.

  I caught a glimpse of Monos. He wasn’t happy at all. He kept scowling at the Perfects, particularly when they weren’t looking his way. Isda, on the other hand, seemed absently happy. Ta’Zan’s presence filled her with some kind of serenity, but there was also tension in her shoulders. I could tell from the way she moved. She was significantly stiffer when he was around.

  It seemed like a contradiction, but it was interesting to observe. I had a feeling that, deep down, Isda knew what kind of person Ta’Zan really was. Outwardly, she was pleased and happy to just be around him. But her subconscious betrayed her. One more avenue to explore later.

  “But enough about that,” Ta’Zan added. “How have you been, Derek? Besides this minor incident, of course,” he added, pointing at Claudia. “For which I apologize, by the way. Abaddon has a peculiar way of showing interest toward other creatures, especially those different from him.”

  “Is that how you taught him?” Derek asked.

  The rest of us listened but stayed out of the conversation. Some of the prisoners exchanged glances and whispered words, while others chose to keep their attention focused on Isda, Monos, and the other two Perfects.

  Amal finished collecting blood samples from Jax and Hansa, then joined Ta’Zan.

  “I taught him that he is superior. I taught him the very biological truth that makes him who he is,” Ta’Zan replied.

  “But you didn’t teach him compassion or acceptance. Empathy or kindness,” Derek said.

  “What good are those abstract terms in this world, Derek?” Ta’Zan sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching. “The good and gentle are always eaten alive. I’ve seen it here, on Strava, among the wild animals and among the Draenir, too. Survival and dominance are key. They’re what drive life, Derek, not soft and fluffy feelings.”

  “That is merely your interpretation of the world,” Derek replied. “It’s not a fact, or an absolute value. If it were, none of the so-called good and gentle species would survive in the long run. However, they still roam this planet, don’t they?”

  “Of course. They’re food for the predators,” Ta’Zan said, even more amused.

  “That’s not their primary purpose. Their natures may make them seem weak to predators, but to those on or below their level, they are important for more than just their flesh.”

  “I am more interested in the predator’s perspective. The predators always survive the longest. The apex predators rule the world, Derek. And I’ve created just that,” Ta’Zan said.

  “That’s very one-sided, Ta’Zan. I would’ve expected more from you,” Derek replied, shaking his head in disappointment.

  Ta’Zan smirked. “Fortunately, I am not here to meet your expectations, only mine.”

  As I watched the exchange, I couldn’t help but draw parallels between Derek and Ta’Zan, especially in how they facilitated the creation of hybrids. Ta’Zan wanted control over everything. He ruled over the genes, the embryos and the fully developed specimens. They worshipped and obeyed him because he was the only father and leader they ever knew. He shaped their minds to suit his interests. Going against him wasn’t even a thought, not to mention an option. Ta’Zan had some kind of ace up his sleeve, some in-case-of-emergency button to press if his Perfects got out of line—he had to, otherwise he would’ve been overpowered by the likes of Abaddon, who craved destruction and violence, yet disliked the orders he was given.

  In contrast, Derek followed the path of freedom, love, and tolerance. I’d been with him for many decades now. I’d seen the beauty to come out of it. The natural bonds. The timeless friendships. The years of peace and the progress of entire civilizations—once it became clear that love and kindness accomplished much more than violence and discrimination. We understood happiness. We’d experienced it, over and over, between painful trials and tribulations. We’d come to appreciate every moment we had with our loved ones, because we could all be gone in an instant.

  The Perfects didn’t have that. All they had was self-aggrandizement and a very narrow view of the world. They considered themselves “apex predators,” with sole rights to this entire universe. The rest of us didn’t matter. As much as Ta’Zan liked to use the basics of nature to justify his methods and mission, everything he was doing was completely against it.

  Derek’s and Ta’Zan’s endgames differed, where the universe was concerned. So did their motivations. But, at the end of the day, they were both loved and respected father figures in their worlds. The only thing that truly set them apart was how they’d gotten to this stage.

  Derek wanted to explore and befriend the entire universe, if possible. Ta’Zan wanted to rearrange it and weed out any creature that didn’t fit his idea of genetic perfection.

  “The samples are ready,” Amal interjected politely, breaking Derek and Ta’Zan’s intense staring competition.

  Ta’Zan looked at the syringes. Blood was glimmering silver in one of them. He smiled. “Thank you, Amal,” he replied, then placed a hand on her shoulder. “Worry not, we’ll get your sister back, and you’ll be complete again. In the meantime, we still have work to do.”

  “Father, she betrayed us,” Amal murmured. “Abaddon said she’s fraternizing with the outsiders. Helping them.”

  “She’s lost, Amal. That is all. Once she’s back here, with us, her mindset will change,” Ta’Zan comforted her.

  “I’m pretty sure she’s already seen how rotten your kingdom is, Ta’Zan. Once a creature tastes freedom and experiences love, it’s over. You can’t bring them back into the darkness. It’s not how we’re designed. The universe doesn’t create oppression. It’s people like you who perpetuate it. And it never works. Not in the long term,” Derek said.

  “We’ll see about that,” Ta’Zan replied. “I’ve never failed in anything I set out to do. I’m sure I’ll be able to bring Amane back into the fold. Especially since her sister is still here. Don’t underestimate a biological sibling’s affection.”

  There was something in the way he said that. It made my stomach tie itself up in knots. The look on Amal’s face was even more telling—albeit fleeting, the expression of genuine fear I saw was enough to make one thing clear: Ta’Zan was going to employ all means necessary to bring Amal’s sister back under his command.

  With this bigger and clearer picture in mind, I felt as though our core objective was refreshed, and more important than ever. Ta’Zan had to be stopped and taken out, no matter what, before he destroyed everything and everyone, including what Derek and I had managed to build over the years, across three dimensions.

  Elonora

  A few hours had passed since Douma’s attempt to escape. Hours which we’d spent dozing off between brief discussions about what had happened in the pond. The more we talked about it, the more convinced we were that the Hermessi were stronger on Strava—and manifesting, too.

  It was quiet outside, for the most part. The occasional critter chirped here and there, over the constant murmurs and rumbles of the waterfall. The cloaking spell did a fine job of keeping our little perimeter safe, w
hile I relished the cool air inside the cave. I understood why Amane had thought of this as a secure spot. The waterfall obscured the grotto entrance, while the pond, jagged rocks, and thick shrubbery outside made it difficult for just anyone to stumble upon it.

  I fell asleep at some point, after Ben and Rose recorded and sent out the second message for GASP. They were going to get it soon—we’d used Ben’s and Vesta’s blood again. This time, however, they recovered much faster, thanks to the little care package that Arwen had included in the crate.

  My dreams were messy and scary as hell. Perfects were hunting me nonstop. Only, they didn’t look as beautiful as the real ones we’d dealt with. They were downright grotesque, deformed hybrids with animal parts sticking out in all the wrong places. Their fangs and claws were huge, and they had bat-like wings that reminded me of the Nerakian Death Claws. They kept catching and tearing me apart. I could almost taste my blood in my mouth.

  It seemed to go on forever, too. Like an endless loop of bloodcurdling horror. As if I was being punished for something.

  I managed to escape again, though I wasn’t sure how that was even still possible, since they’d repeatedly shredded me already. But I did. I fought my way out of the darkness, then fell through a tunnel. I tumbled all the way to the bottom, hearing my bones break in the process. I didn’t feel anything.

  Once I landed on my back, I could see glimmers coming at me through the blackness.

  Perfects. More of them. Thousands of them, in fact, swarming toward me like famished bees. The buzzing drove me nuts. The closer they got, the better I could hear the flapping of their leathery wings.

  Then a whisper trickled into my ear, and everything seemed to stop for a split second.

  I need you to believe in me, Elonora.

  Who was that? It was definitely someone. Or something.

  It kept saying the same thing. I need you to believe in me, Elonora. Over and over, until I forced myself to look around. I felt the cold ground beneath me. The dirt crumbling between my fingers as I struggled to regain my senses and keep moving. The deformed Perfects were still coming, and they were getting closer.