Sera's Gift

by Teal Ceagh

  The elves were trying to squeeze into the tiny space between the Maserati and the wall, to get at Lindál but Beth would not let them. Zack picked her up around the waist, plucking her away from Lindál and holding her against him. “They’re going to take him to the keep,” he said, as she struggled. He looked at Amrod for confirmation.

  The old elf nodded. “Teleportation to the parking garage, as the keep itself is shielded. Then to a safe room inside the keep. We will take you there too. Come.” He held out his arm.

  Alexander was studying the steel netting under the car. He looked at Zack. “This is new. They’re studying us, learning about us and trying to pick us off, one by one, to break up the trinities that already exist, not just the new ones as they start.”

  Zack felt his heart squeeze. “And they just scored their first victim. Maybe.” Bleak misery seemed to settle over him.

  Alexander turned him and pushed him toward the elves. “Remember that Beth can scan your feelings, Zack. You have to hold it together for her.”

  The reminder was like a dash of cold water. He drew a deep breath. “Right,” he muttered. Beth and Lindál. He’d hold it together for them. The only two reasons on Earth that mattered.

  * * * * *

  Seaveth rubbed her forehead. “Okay, so let me get this straight. Lindál’s anatomy isn’t human, so we can’t call in human doctors. He doesn’t heal like vampires, so we can’t sit around and wait for him to do it on his own. Human drugs don’t work on him. And now you’re telling me elves don’t have drugs?” She turned to look at Amrod. “Nothing? Not even painkillers? We’re supposed to sit there and watch Lindál writhe in agony?”

  Amrod cleared his throat. “We have certain medicines…what you would call folk medicines, or natural remedies. But on the whole, elves don’t get sick, you see. And wounds are dealt with topically…”

  “What?” Seaveth snapped.

  Zack winced.

  “The outside of the wound is cleaned and stitched but the internal injury is left to heal on its own,” Amrod explained. “It is considered politically incorrect to interfere with the body’s natural healing processes.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Diego muttered. Zack caught his eye. In this matter, he agreed with him. He couldn’t stomach more of this insane conversation and left the room.

  “But Lindál is no longer a citizen of your world. He even gave up his title as the crown prince…” Zack could hear Beth verbally rolling up her sleeves, tackling the issue from a political point of view. If anyone could fight to save Lindál’s life with politics, she could.

  He went back to the room where Lindál lay on the hastily found bed. His wounds had been patched but not stitched and he was covered with a sheet but his still body was alarming. The glow had gone from his skin.

  Zack almost fell into the chair beside him.

  Lindál was watching him.

  “God, you’re awake!” Zack leaned forward. “Are you hurting? They can’t give you any painkillers. Shit, they don’t know what to give you. Beth is down to arguing politics with Amrod, who says it’s against religion or some shit to even stitch you up. It’s a fucking mess.” He took a breath, aware that if he said anything more he was going to lose it completely.

  Lindál shook his head. “Need Sera,” he whispered.

  “Who?”

  “My sister. Séreméla. Beth must call her. No one must know.” He coughed, paused, then drew a breath that was clearly painful. “Call her,” he finished weakly.

  “Okay, big guy. No problems,” Zack assured him. He took a breath. “Hey.”

  Lindál opened an eye.

  “Love you.”

  “Know.”

  Zack hurried off to peel Beth away from the elves and get her to call over the woman who had sworn she would never set foot on the planet that had taken her brother away from his native land and people.

  * * * * *

  Zack couldn’t stop staring at Séreméla. She was beautiful in an incandescent, ethereal way. He could see her relationship to Lindál but she personified elves in all their glory. While Lindál glowed, she emitted radiance. She had the same golden hair and perfect skin and she stood almost six feet tall but slender and supple. Her eyes were twin pools of crystal blue. Her lips were delicate coral bows and she had a fresh glow in each cheek. Her arms were graceful. In the long gown she wore, that swept the floor, every movement was a ballet dancer’s precise execution.

  And she was as pissed as a bee in a bottle. She crackled energy, as she moved about the apartment. “He got himself chopped up by a bunch of vampeen and wants me to patch him up now? That’s really very amusing.”

  Beth looked not a little confused. “You might have to explain this to us in more words than you’ve used so far. Amrod gave us the impression that any sort of internal medicine was almost…politically incorrect, there. And none of our drugs will work, so we’re reduced to physical therapies.”

  “So?” Sera said, with a shrug. She was actually slightly taller than Beth.

  “He told us to call for you,” Zack said. “He gave me the impression that you could help him.”

  “He did, did he?” Sera said, rounding on him, her robes flaring. “Why would he do that?”

  “How the fuck would I know?” Zack said, frustrated.

  “Zack,” Beth said softly.

  He pushed his hand through his hair and sat down again.

  Sera seemed unmoved and he wondered if her grasp of English was quite as good as it seemed. She turned back to Beth. “Amrod is right. Stitch him up, let him heal. It’s the way of things.”

  Zack slammed the old tome he had been consulting down on the desk. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said. “He’s dying!”

  Sera stayed very still for a long while. “He can’t be,” she said at last. “He’s immortal.”

  “Not with these wounds,” Beth said softly.

  Sera sank onto the kitchen stool, like the strength had suddenly left her legs. She sat there for three minutes in total silence. Zack timed it on the range clock. Then she looked at Zack. “I know what he’s asking me to do,” she said and he was shocked to see tears in her eyes. “I’ll have to go back for a while to collect some things. Then I will need to jump back. But closer to him. Seaveth…can you bring me in closer?” She looked at Beth.

  “Yes, but not wearing what you’re wearing. You’ll need to borrow human clothes. I can help you there.” Beth stood up. “Come with me,” she said softly.

  * * * * *

  Zack shook Lindál’s shoulder, not at all sure he would respond. “Hey, look who I brought to see you,” he whispered in his ear.

  Sera leaned over her brother and murmured against his cheek in Elvish—at least Zack assumed it was Elvish. Lindál stirred as Sera lifted the sheet and the bandages. She seemed to recoil at the injuries but bit her lip and continued to explore the wounds with her fingers, growing more confident and absorbed as the minutes wore on.

  Finally she turned to Seaveth, pulling off the denim coat she wore and revealing surprisingly full breasts under a perfectly normal tank top and jeans that Zack recognized as Beth’s, showing off hips only a little less full than hers, and legs just a little longer. “I need water, very clean and cool. Lavers…what you would call bowls.” She picked up a very heavy bag. “And I need a large surface to work on. Platters. Instruments…” She moved her hands to show what she needed. “To mix with, yes?”

  Beth nodded. “It will be arranged.” She motioned to those still in the room and they left to get what she had asked for.

  Sera began to empty the bag of pots and jars, placing them carefully on the seats of the chairs.

  “Can you help him?” Zack asked.

  She looked up, startled. “I did not realize you were still here, vampire. I apologize.”

  “Can you help him?”

  Sera turned to study him. Her eyes so strongly reminded him of Lindál it made his throat ache.

  “I do not confess to unders
tand this bonding of yours that he is part of,” she said stiffly. “But that is his concern, I suppose.”

  “It is,” Zack said carefully. “Can you help him?”

  “Yes, I can help,” she said. The words came reluctantly, as if she did not want to say them. Then she busied herself with her pots again. After a moment, she looked over her shoulder. “I begged him not to come here, you know. I warned him that no good would come of it. And now look at him.”

  Zack stood up. He couldn’t handle this anymore. “Lady, your brother couldn’t stomach living in your land anymore. He was happy here. And three hours ago, he swore he’d give his life for mine, or Seaveth’s if it was asked of him. So lay off on your superior shit, okay? Because he chose his place and it was here.”

  He caught her startled look as he pushed past her but really didn’t give a damn anymore. Screw her.

  Chapter Three

  Sera found the strength coming back through her hands more quickly than she thought possible and was almost frightened by it. When Seaveth returned with the equipment she needed, Sera thanked her and asked that she be left alone. Then she began to work quickly, trying to dismiss Zachariah’s disdain from her mind. She had seen fury and hurt in his eyes and that too, had shocked her.

  Had she misunderstood Lindál’s role here on Earth? If she had, it was not her fault. He had not shared anything with her after committing himself to a life here. He had cut himself off completely.

  Much like she had cut herself off from her own past.

  She finished preparing the ointments, turned to Lindál’s still body and took a deep breath. It was time.

  Barely hesitating, she applied the various creams and pastes to the wounds. The ointments for the internal organs, for healing and to support functioning. The oils that would assist circulation. Stitches to close the wounds behind her. Working quickly now, she let her hands guide her. Unguents for musculature, tissue repairs. More oils for blood vessels near the surface. Then the extensive damage to the stomach and skin structures themselves. The stitch work was extensive but she kept at it, her hands moving swiftly, spreading their power.

  At last it was done. She stood, straightening her back, her legs trembling, only then realizing that she was crying. She blotted the tears with her forearms, for her hands were still smeared with ointments.

  Carefully, she cleaned her hands and dried them. She was starting to tremble now. She opened the door to the room and beckoned Seaveth and Zachariah into the room, let them enter and shut the door on the others.

  They were looking at her oddly. She tried to speak, cleared her throat and tried again. “He will sleep for many hours, then he will be thirsty. Let him sip, that is all. But as many sips as he likes. It must be clean water.” She picked up the pot she had prepared. “This must be spread across his wounds each day until they begin to heal themselves. He will know when that begins.”

  Seaveth tilted her head to one side. “Are you…all right?”

  “I am a little tired.”

  “You’re crying.”

  “Oh.” She wiped at her eyes again. “Yes, that.” She grimaced. “That is another thing.” She straightened. “I understand that as queen of the trinities, Seaveth, you have command of both the vampire and elven armies and therefore have executive control of the vampire political structure here?”

  Seaveth blinked. “Well, yes. For the duration of the war against the Grimoré.”

  “Then it is you whom I must ask for political asylum.” She waved a hand toward Lindál. “For what I have done here tonight, I am now an outlaw in my own land.”

  Zachariah’s jaw sagged but she did not want to hear his reaction. He had not understood, earlier. She looked directly at Seaveth. “I can feel that it is raining outside. Could I possibly… I would like to go and stand in it. Could that be arranged?” She needed to feel water on her skin. Running water. Rain would do.

  Seaveth nodded, a smile beginning to form. “Yes, that can be arranged.”

  * * * * *

  The vampire who escorted her to the alley off the basement parking garage was obedient to the letter. He did not speak to her and kept three paces away from her, giving her the privacy she had requested. When they reached the basement parking gargage that serviced the underground keep, he strode up the ramp to the alley, stepped out into the rain and looked in both directions for long seconds, to ensure the lane was empty. Then finally he nodded and stepped aside.

  She tried to pretend he did not have a knife in his boot, another in his jacket and a Mauser pistol on the other side. And she tried to pretend that this was not Earth.

  She stepped into the rain and lifted her face up to it. The humidity was almost overpowering but she stayed where she was and let the water soak her strange clothing and reach through to her skin. She would feel better once she was wet. Maybe.

  She heard the soft thud and grunt even through the thundering downpour and turned back toward the ramp down into the garage to check her armed guard. He was folding face downward, like he was tired. A creature was racing toward her, full of teeth jutting at all angles, with eyes bloodshot and staring.

  She knew at once this must be a vampeen. Something about the way it moved told her it was neither human nor vampire. She backed up quickly. Why would it be coming after her? Here on Earth she was insignificant. But it was.

  She turned and ran. Jumping was out of the question. She could not go home anymore.

  It squealed as it came after her and she cried out, for the sound was one of the most terrible noises she had ever heard in her life.

  A man halted at the end of the lane, looking toward her and she held out her hand toward him, pleading silently for help. Something must have communicated to him for he turned and took a few steps in her direction despite the pelting rain. He was peering at her, trying to see around her.

  “Help me!” she screamed.

  That decided him. He ran toward her, reaching for something at his hip, dropping the garment he had been carrying. When Sera cannoned into him he brought his arm up around her and they twisted sideways. His other arm was swinging up and she realized that he had intended this to happen, that he was drawing a gun.

  The vampeen was still pursuing her despite the human. She closed her eyes, knowing the human would kill it, that this was a disaster the vampires had struggled to avoid for two years now and she had just created it within minutes.

  The gun roared and she jumped, shocked at how loud it was. At the same time there was two more shots…but not from the same gun.

  The vampeen squealed again. She turned, to see it on its back, kicking its feet as it clutched as its chest.

  “What the hell…” the man said as he moved toward it, his gun lowering. “What is it? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” asked another voice, lifting loudly above the rain. Sera looked up from the vampeen. The man was standing on the other side of it, with a gun in each hand. Tall. Black hair and eyes, of the type they called Latino here. He was staring at the man she had cannoned into with anger. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. He put his boot on the head of the vampeen and shot it again. It became still and silent.

  Sera found herself backing up a half step until her shoulder bumped up against the man once more. His arm came around her and settled on her hip.

  At the same time, the dark-haired man looked at her and her breath caught. Something twisted and turned over, deep in her gut.

  “This…thing was chasing her,” the man holding her said. “You know that as well as I do. Why else did you shoot it?”

  “I was called here…” the dark haired man said and trailed off, staring at her. “Called,” he repeated to himself, as if he was in deep thought. Then he bought his fists up to his forehead, still gripping the guns. “No, no, no, no, no!” He spun away. “NO!” he shouted, looking up at the black clouds overhead.

  A vampeen broke out of cover from the building just ahead of him. He shot it
with both guns, then strode up to it, put his boot on its head and fired another bullet in its skull for extra measure. His movements radiated anger. He walked back to where Sera stood with the man.

  “I’m assuming you have permits for those guns,” the man said mildly.

  “Who are you, the fucking chief of police?” the dark-haired man raged, shoving the two guns into holsters at the small of his back, under his jacket.

  “Lieutenant Blake Harvey, Manhattan Fifth Precinct.” He tapped the shield clipped to his belt.

  The dark-haired man paused. “Oh, this is fucking perfect,” he said and laughed. He didn’t sound amused. He came up to Sera and lifted his hand. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly and very gently lifted her hair up to look at her ear. “You’re his sister, aren’t you?”

  She knew what he was asking. “Yes,” she breathed. “I’m Séreméla.” She realized that this man must be a vampire, if he knew Lindál.

  He nodded. He was staring at her, almost like he was drinking her in. “My name is Diego,” he told her. “Your brother will have a lot to tell you about me. Most of it not good. I’m glad I’ll have a chance to prove otherwise before he recovers enough to tell you some of it.”

  She shivered and felt Blake Harvey’s hand tighten on her hip.

  “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying exactly, Diego,” she told him.

  “She’s right,” Blake Harvey added. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about either but you do seem to know more about what’s happening here than I do, so I’ve indulged you this far. How about you explain what this thing is at our feet? And how about you give me your last name?”

  Abruptly, the rain stopped and all that was left was the sound of water dripping. Diego pulled out his guns, looking around. He looked at Blake Harvey. “Keep your gun out, Lieutenant. You’re going to need it.”

  “Why?”