by Kara Jaynes
Lyra clears her throat and looks away. “Yeah. So, you look fine.”
I smirk. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t mean that kind of fine,” she snaps. “I meant you’re not about to die; the other sort of fine.”
“I’m an elf,” I reply. “I’m clearly both kinds of fine.”
“Ugh, whatever.” Lyra stands and stalks over to me. “You were shot, though. Who were you fighting?”
Thoughts of Wilder send spiraling coils of anger through me. “A criminal.”
“Did you kill him?”
I exhale. “No. He escaped.”
“Hmm.” Lyra doesn’t seem upset anymore. Her expression has turned calculating. Why? “I know you elves are fast. It seems highly unlikely a human could escape, once you decided to hunt him down.”
“True,” I agree, “but my prey is a vampire.”
“A vampire?” Lyra’s eyebrows raise. “Wow. Who knew?” She eyes me again. “Bullets can’t hurt you then, huh?”
“They can,” I say, “it’s just hard to kill us with them.”
“So, how does one go about killing an elf?” She’s not looking at me now. Her gaze is riveted on my jacket, sitting in an untidy heap on the ground.
“What is it to you?” I say.
Lyra blinks, and her face goes blank. “Who, me? Nothing. Nothing whatsoever. I’m not the killing sort. Makes me feel sick.”
I eye her suspiciously. She just cloaked her expression with elf-like skill. Why?
She pats me on the shoulder. “Well, it’s past my bedtime. I can see you’re okay. Night, Sol.”
She leaves, and I watch her go, puzzlement hanging over me. That last question of hers was odd, to say the least.
Was her question one of curiosity, or was there a motive behind her questioning?
I am not sure, but I suspect the latter.
She will need to be watched.
20
Wilder
I boil noodles, open a can of crushed tomatoes, and dump it all into a mixing bowl. I wrinkle my nose at the smell. It’s not bad. It’s just wholly unappealing. “How do humans live on this stuff?” I say.
“Well, it helps if you added some seasonings.” Cecil sprinkles in some dried basil and oregano. He sniffs the gluten-y substance. “Okay, so it still smells unappetizing, but I betcha it’s edible.”
Swirling a fork in the steaming noodles, Cecil tries it. He chews and shrugs. “It’s not bad, but it’s missing something.”
“Blood,” I say wistfully.
Cecil and I both have been trying to avoid hunting humans for as long as possible. It’s been days since we’ve met, and the younger vampire seems to be settling into his new life. He clings to my side like a barnacle, though, which is both endearing and annoying.
He exhales heavily with a scowl, looking down at the bowl of pasta, steam curling upward, partly obscuring his face. “Blood,” he agrees. “Maybe we can find a hound wandering the streets nearby. There are lots of strays.”
“That won’t be the same,” I growl, “And you know it.”
Cecil looks away. “I don’t want to be a monster,” he says quietly. “Not any more than I already am.”
“Eh.” I turn away and begin washing the empty pot. This house still miraculously has running water and heat. It must have been a gang’s holding at some point. “There are worse things in life than being a vampire. You could be dead.”
“Might as well be,” Cecil mutters. He takes another bite of spaghetti. “This isn’t so bad, you know. You should try it.”
A snarl rumbles in my throat. I’m in a foul mood. I need to feed. Not only that, it’s been far too long since I’ve seen Stella. The feeling of uselessness has been growing for days, and I feel like I’m going to explode if I can’t find relief.
“. . . Wilder?” Cecil’s voice is tentative. “Are you okay?”
I laugh, and it sounds cold. “Okay? Okay? For the love of stars, Cecil, what makes you think I’m okay? No. No, I’m not.”
He cringes at my words, but I don’t care. The anger and frustration are growing, and I need to vent it somewhere. I can’t keep it bottled up anymore, or I’ll go insane. “My life has been absolute chaos for who even knows how long. I’m thirsty for human blood, Cecil. I want to kill people and drain them dry. No, I’m not okay, and I never will be.”
I stalk out before Cecil can answer. Maybe he doesn’t have a response.
Once outside, I inhale deeply. The air is thick with pollution, the same scent that assailed me when I was human. But now, the smell of blood is laced through the mist. Always.
I run a hand through my hair, frustration mixing with desperation. I don’t know what to do. How do I rise above my obsession; the addiction?
But is it an addiction? It feels like a crushing, overbearing urgent need; like air, food, water, or sleep.
How can I keep on living like this?
My lip curls and I lean against the wall of the house, folding my arms. Maybe I don’t deserve to live.
Turning into a vampire didn’t rid me of an instinct for survival, though. If anything, it heightened it. Ending myself isn’t an option.
A light rain begins to fall, and I lift my face to the sky, closing my eyes as the cold drops spatter on my face. I wish this water could wash away my past, leaving me clean and unblemished, my life an empty slate.
But that’s impossible.
I push away from the wall and stride away, the sound of rain covering my footsteps. It’s been a few days since I was attacked by the elf. I’ve gotten scrapes and cuts since turning, and I’m well aware that I now heal at a faster rate. The wounds that the elf inflicted on me with his strange weapon, however, have taken longer to improve than normal. I’m not certain yet, but I think I will have scars. The knife must be made of a material from space. Intriguing. If it hurts vampires, does it hurt elves, too?
A snarl tugs at my lips. There’s only one way to find out, and I’m confident I will. Liberty isn’t big enough territory for both elves and vampires.
“Where are you going?” Cecil’s voice sounds behind me, panicked.
I wave a dismissive hand without looking behind me. “I’ll be back,” I call. “I just need to be alone for a while.”
“Okay,” Cecil says after a pause. “Be careful.”
I don’t respond, letting the fog-shrouded night swallow me up.
Maybe I’ll hunt, maybe I won’t. Perhaps I’ll try to see Stella. That’s the other thing that’s been bothering me.
I feel like Stella is slipping away from me, and I don’t know how to get her back. I want to get her back; I have to. I’m just not sure how. I remember after we’d first reunited, I’d been certain of her devotion. I could see the love in her eyes, as she gazed up at me. I’d never held to the notion of love-at-first-sight, but Stella told me she had. She’d loved me from the first moment we met. But now, separated by elven royalty, I begin to doubt. Logically, we haven’t been able to spend enough time together to keep the flame going. But Stella’s infatuation has never been rooted in logic. It’s a wildfire that roars to life whenever she sees me. Stella’s always been sick on love for me.
Time changes a lot of things. Stella doesn’t know her own heart, anymore.
I turn down a road, not paying attention to where I’m going. The streets are more or less the same here, all in a grid pattern.
Maybe I shouldn’t try to convince her. She’s so weak, almost pathetically so. It’d be laughably easy to throw her over my shoulder and make a break for it. She’d probably be mad at me, but not for long. Stella can’t stay upset with me.
I smirk at the thought, my pace quickening. Stella adores me.
Why? The thought brings me up short. Why does Stella love me?
Because I loved her. More than life. I would’ve done anything for her, and she knew it. We used to watch old videos together, read together, cook together. The most mundane of tasks were fun because she was with me. She’d been all that matte
red.
And she’d reciprocated those feelings with fierce intensity. When I’d proposed to her, giving her a ring with a false diamond, she’d cried, throwing her arms around me. I love you, Wilder, she’d said through tears. I always will.
And she still does. Stella wouldn’t break her word.
So why did she hesitate when I asked her to leave the elven base?
The prince. Handsome, rich and powerful, the elf has a lot to offer Stella.
I can’t offer her wealth or status. I can only offer myself.
But it might be enough. Stella has never been one to fixate over money. Just me, and her books.
I need to find a way to steal her heart away from the elf.
21
Wilder
I’d been roaming aimlessly, but being familiar with the area, I find my bearings in moments. I’m still miles from the elven fortress, but it isn’t too far if I jog. And jogging for a vampire is a good deal faster than the human concept of it.
It wasn’t long before I moved into a lope, enjoying the feel of working my muscles while the rain keeps me cool.
I don’t have a specific plan; I just know I have to see her again. She’ll be happy to see me, she always is, and the thought blossoms warmth in my chest. Stella. “I’ll see you soon, my little spark,” I whisper into the sky.
I catch the flicker of a new scent and skid to a halt. I lift my head, tasting the air. No. I’ve smelled this before.
A snarl splits my face and I dip into a crouch. “So we meet again. You fancy stalking me, eh?”
After a moment’s hesitation, a vampire slinks into view. We’re standing under an overpass, but long gone are the days when the freeways were choked with congestion. Few vehicles run on the roads, now.
“You have been summoned anew,” the man says. “I would not keep the Mistress waiting. She doesn’t like to wait. She has already shown immense patience with you.”
I chuckle, but it sounds cold. “If she wants me that bad, she can come get me herself.”
The man’s eyes widen with alarm. Whoever this woman is, she has this guy whipped. “An ignorant statement,” he says. “You do not comprehend her power.”
I roll my eyes and shift my stance, ready to flee into the night. I’m pretty sure I’m faster, and I don’t feel like fighting tonight. My shoulders still ache from my scuffle with the elf. “Yeah, I’m sure.” Wicked humor bubbles up inside me, and I grin at him. “But I’m not worried. I’ve never met a woman I couldn’t handle.”
Never mind I’ve never handled any woman.
He literally gasps before his face twists in rage. “Such impudence,” he hisses. “I shall teach you a lesson, boy.”
“Why doesn’t she teach me?” I crow.
He lunges at me, but not before I’ve already turned tail. My feet hardly seem to touch the ground; I’m running so fast. I know to the human eye I’m only a blur, but everything stays clear, even as I flash past it.
The vampire is behind me. I risk a glance over my shoulder. His face is scrunched with effort, but he isn’t as far behind me as I would like. And where is that vampire woman who was with him last time?
The answer becomes apparent the moment I turn to face the road. She materializes out of the shadows, her leg whipping out in a kick meant for my side.
I duck and skid under her leg, winking at her as I pass. I should feel at least somewhat concerned, being attacked by two vampires at once, but the adrenaline is making me feel giddy, wild, even.
Regaining my feet, I continue my mad dash. I’ll have to lose them; there’s no way I’m leading them to Stella.
Turning a corner, I almost run into the elf I’ve been—mostly—avoiding for weeks. He looks just as surprised as I feel, pale blue eyes widening in shock, but I recover first. “Behind me!” I leap over him and continue my sprint.
The sound of the woman’s startled cry means the two vampires have met Mortyum. Hopefully he lives up to his name of Death; in this case, anyway.
My usual style is to crisscross and backtrack, doing my best to lose any pursuers, but tonight I simply run with wild abandon, putting as much distance between myself and my pursuers. I hope Cecil was a sensible boy and stayed home. He won’t last five minutes if he tangles with the trouble that walks Liberty tonight.
I finally halt, on the edge of the city. My chest is heaving, but I feel only mildly winded. But sniffing the air, I can sense that dawn is coming. Relentless in its approach, I know I only have three hours at best before it’s here.
“Well, shoot.” I used to be prone to swearing, and sometimes I still do, but Stella never liked it, so I fell into the habit of saying substitute words to appease her. I use them, even now. Old habits die hard, it seems.
Cecil will be beside himself with panic if I don’t return. He seems to think I’m a friend. Maybe I am. But Stella comes first if I can manage it.
I stand where I am for several minutes, making sure I wasn’t followed. If I’m lucky, the vampires and elf killed each other.
I huff, a white plume of breath billowing before my vision. “You’re anything but lucky,” I say softly to myself. Except in regards to Stella. I’ve always been crazy-lucky to catch her attention.
I walk back to the city, toward the fortress. To her.
There aren’t many things in this world that I’m certain of, but there is one thing of which I do not doubt.
I will win Stella’s hand.
22
Stella
Liberty in the spring isn’t much different from Liberty in winter. It still rains, and it’s cold. The difference is that the air is a little less frigid. But with the howling winds that come around March every year like clockwork, it’s still miserable.
With every passing day, my frustration grows. Standing in the main library at the elven base, the ground rumbles and shakes under my feet. Earthquakes are happening more frequently, and though he does his best to hide it, Eldaren is a bundle of nerves over it.
I need to find the gaia, this elusive person who can supposedly work earth magic. As time moves on, though, I find myself beginning to doubt this gaia really exists. What kind of magic user would sit back and let the earth die? It doesn’t stack up.
With the afternoon drawing to a close, I chalk the day up as another failure. I’m almost certain this library doesn’t hold what I need, nevermind that there’s still a slew of books I have yet to go through.
“I should have found something by now,” I growl as I leave, stalking down the halls to my room. “If the gaia exists, surely he would have been mentioned in one of these books.”
The elves have several books on magic, and while technically I’ve found a passage or two about the gaia, it never mentioned where the person could be found. So annoying.
The hour is still too early for dinner. I have several books stacked on my bed from this morning, but my head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton fluff. I push them aside and sprawl onto the mattress, letting my eyes close.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but when my eyes open, it’s dark. I sit up, pressing the palms of my hands against my eyes. Peering around, I see the books on my bed, and what looks like something on the table. Probably a meal Aleere set out for me, in case I woke up hungry. Something else is different, as well, but I can’t tell what.
Food sounds good, though, so I slip out of bed and pad over to the table, finding bread, butter and an assortment of jams. Aleere is a very attentive servant; I have to give her that. She must have replaced dinner with something she knew would keep for several hours.
I tuck into the meal, humming quietly to myself. I really need to get into a proper sleep schedule, so I’m not waking up in the middle of the night to start my day.
I’m halfway through my second piece of bread when I become aware that I’m being watched. Putting the bread down, I look over my shoulder.
Wilder is sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me, his eyes glowing in the nearly pitch black, the only other ligh
t coming from a lamp outside the window. I can’t make out his features in the darkness, but I recognize the way he sits, shoulders not-quite hunched, feet lightly scuffing the floor like a restless child. The way his hair curls about his ears.
I swallow hastily and almost choke. “What are you doing here?” I ask, keeping my voice down.
Wilder pats the bed, indicating I should sit next to him. He doesn’t speak.
I can’t decide if I should obey or refuse. He told me in his letter he’d visit me soon, and it’s been several days since he’s come. A couple of weeks, if anyone was counting. I am not, I tell myself sternly.
But my traitorous body moves of its own accord, and I silently walk over and sit beside him.
Wilder slips an arm around my waist and tugs me into him. His lips brush my ear. “I missed you,” he murmurs.
“I missed you, too,” I mutter back. Stars, he smells good. His scent is sharp, a mix of metal, leather, and sweat. Involuntarily, I lean closer, trying to inhale deeply while staying discreet.
Wilder snickers, and I know I wasn’t successful. “You smell good, too,” he says.
Do I? I’ve never thought about my scent. “Like what?” I ask.
“Expensive perfume,” he says. “Citrus and vanilla.” He angles forward and buries his nose in my hair. “Like secrets and bl—” he doesn’t finish his sentence, pulling away quickly. He flashes me another smile, but there’s a tightness to it that wasn’t there before.
I ignore what he was going to say, and instead focus on what he did. “You can’t smell secrets,” I say. “You’re making that up.”
Wilder lays a finger alongside his nose. “You’d be very surprised at what scents I pick up, now, my little spark.”