by Adam Thielen
Andrei’s eyebrows lifted. “Innocence would be difficult to find anywhere, especially here. I’ve been told you wish to investigate us. Please do so. You will get what you need. If it makes a few councilmen squirm, all the better.”
“And what if—”
“Tsenka,” interrupted Matthias.
The Dracul’s eyebrows returned to their resting state. “Makida was a disappointment, and she was wrong. Humans are not our enemy, nor are we above them. Anything you uncover will be shared with our citizens, and it is they who will ultimately decide on the most effective resolution.”
“Good,” she said. “What did you mean that Dracul means the first’”
“She’s not going to believe you,” said Matthias.
“Nor do I require it,” replied Andrei. He beckoned with his hand. “Come into my sitting room.”
With a wave the door behind the throne opened and the three stepped into a large room lined with bookshelves. A large circular table sat in the middle with a detailed map of the world painted on its surface.
Tsenka watched the Dracul’s movements. His body flowed slowly across the room with footsteps that only lightly touched the floor. He opened a cabinet and retrieved a decanter of clear liquid and three short glass tumblers. He placed it on the table and sat. Matthias and Cho followed suit, waiting while he poured.
“It takes some getting used to, but it’s all I drink now,” he said, nudging the glasses toward them.
Cho picked up hers and sniffed while Matthias threw his back. She hesitantly drank what she guessed was whiskey. The drink lit up her throat then subsided.
“It gets better by the third glass,” he said with a grin.
“You get tired of explaining this, don’t you?” asked Trent.
Andrei tilted his head slightly, looking to Cho. “I don’t actually tell it very often. Most of them are scared of me. The council wants me to be a reclusive figurehead. I haven’t personally met most of my flock, and that is a shame.”
“I’m all ears,” said Tsenka.
“You should have seen this place fifteen years ago,” said Andrei. “You were more popular than I ever was. Everyone kept telling me to bring you in, by force if necessary.”
“Really?” asked Cho.
“I myself was wary, having learned of your animosity toward an idea that originated here. I imagine you must feel some obligation to carry on what Kate was passionate about.”
Tsenka looked at Matthias while she replied, “You sure seem to know a lot.”
“Oh, Matthias had nothing to do with it,” he replied. “Our intel is extensive. Everyone knew about you and Kate.”
Cho thought for a moment. “What did everyone think when Matty ripped Scarlet’s chest off?”
“Tsenka, come on,” said Matthias.
Andrei sat for a moment, then poured himself another drink. He gulped it down and snorted. He stared at the map of the world in front of him. “That did not go over very well,” he said quietly. “Few agreed with her tactics, but many considered her a sort of hero of the nocturnal. In much of the world, vampires are hunted or persecuted. I cannot blame them for cheering her on. Her death was very demoralizing.”
Tsenka’s demeanor shifted. “I’m sorry if I seemed callous, but I must honestly wonder if any remnants carry a torch.”
“For me, it could have happened yesterday,” he said. “But it was almost forty years ago. The city has flourished. Nocturnals living here are happy. Why bother with fighting and war?”
“People always seem to find a reason,” she said. “But I’m trying to be open-minded.”
“That’s as much as I can ask,” said Andrei.
Tsenka moved her glass next to the decanter and he poured her another drink. “Back to your name,” she directed.
“My apologies; we got lost, didn’t we?” he said. “You see, Tsenka, I am the first nocturnal.”
“He’s right,” she said, tilting her head to Matthias. “I don’t believe you.”
“In any case, the reason I sit upon the throne here is because they do,” Andrei said with a nod to the door. “That, and I built this place.” The Dracul gave a weak shrug. “I dug a hole, at the least.”
“You’re clearly old,” said Cho. She pressed her lips together for a moment. “I’m not sure that came out right. But even if you are the oldest, that doesn’t mean you were the first. And even that’s not possible. Vampires age, slowly, but they do.”
“I do not age,” he said. “Because I am the first.”
“The first and the only created nocturnal,” said Matthias.
“What’s that mean?” she asked, downing her second glass.
“All other nocturnals are turned,” started Andrei. “Another vampire bites them, creates a connection. Then that vampire goes around feasting, eventually creating another connection, and so on and so forth. Have you ever met a vampire who was never bitten? I was created, not turned, and all awakened are connected to me.”
“And how were you created?” asked Cho.
Matthias sat up, curious himself of the answer.
“Eh, that is a story I do not tell,” said Andrei. “It was a dark time.”
Trent slumped. “Someday I will get you to tell me,” he said.
“We shall see about that.”
“You said all awakened, not all nocturnals,” Tsenka pointed out. “You think you created mages, too?”
“All awakened draw from the Ethereal plane in their own way,” the Dracul explained. “But while I intended to create vampires, mages were more of a side effect. They too are connected to me, just not in a way that I chose.”
“What do you mean connected?”
“They receive their power from me,” he said. “Well, perhaps not their power, but the opportunity. Their Ethereal selves are changed by my existence.”
Tsenka shook her head. “And no one noticed it all coming from some place in Antarctica?”
Andrei poured whiskey for Matthias. “Try to imagine what existence for a billion minds would be like without time or space,” he continued. “Nothing would come from anywhere. It would just be. Even in this construct, the connection we share is not spatial nor temporal. It just is. There is no way to observe it. It is beyond the facade, and it is even beyond the Ethereal plane.”
The Dracul held up his hand in front of Cho. His spread fingers seemed to fatten then changed shape, bulging in places and contracting in others. They became transparent, losing the texture of skin and appearing as thick steam floating in the air. The transformation reached his hand, creating a small cloud in the air.
“Stop me if you’ve seen this before,” he said.
A wide smile covered Matthias’s face.
Tsenka reached out her hand, poking at the cloud with her fingertips. She pushed through it, then pulled back. “That’s a new one,” she said.
“You see, I am a little different. But along with tricks like that come a cost,” he explained. “Holy water, crosses, garlic, wooden stakes, the folktales that were never true for other nocturnals are true for me. But I have found that most vampires can acquire a lower proficiency for one or two of these powers.”
“Oh?” said Cho. “Teach Matt anything?”
Andrei’s hand condensed and solidified. “He is lucky to have his pallor. That usually helps. I’m teaching him memory transference, and he’s picked it up quickly.”
“How’s that work?”
“I’ll show you later,” said Matthias, winking at her.
Tsenka’s left eyebrow shot up, then relaxed. “I read something about succession on one of the internal sites. Clearly there’s never been one.”
“No,” he said. “And there never will be.”
“Then what is the point of having a successor?”
“It is simply a requirement,” he said. “The people have to believe that their world won’t crumble at the death of a single man.”
“You must worry about assassinations or coups,” said Cho.
“No, I do not,” he replied.
Matthias perked up again, catching Tsenka’s attention. She turned back to Andrei. “Because you can’t be killed?”
“I’m the father of our kind,” he said. “Without me there are no vampires.”
“Mhm,” uttered Cho. “How would you know?”
“I am the gateway,” he said. “The hole in the world that let the darkness in. I feel it, I see it, I know it.”
“You buy all this?” Tsenka asked Matthias.
“I don’t think it’s a con,” he replied. “Doesn’t make it true on its own, but yes, I do believe it. He has shown me much through his memories.” Trent’s expression soured for a moment as he recalled some of what the Dracul had shared.
Cho leaned back in her chair, the gears grinding in her head while the two men at the table sat quietly.
“Andrei, do you know of a seer named Desre Somer?”
“The name is not familiar,” he replied. “What is her significance?”
“She’s a friend,” said Cho. “Matthias told me you have concerns about the UTI, and I believe someone there knows where she’s been taken.”
“Yes,” he said. “Cepheid and the Prosperity party. I suspect they want to cleanse the world of nocturnals. You were there recently? This is concerning.”
“My copter picks up tracking signals,” she said. “I wasn’t followed.”
“The UTI is clever,” said Andrei. “They may have found a way. We will need to inspect your monocopter.”
Tsenka doubted herself. Did I lead them here? Did they somehow plan it all?
“I need to contact someone topside,” she said. “Matthias tells me you have an antenna that can connect with a satellite.”
“Yes,” said the Dracul. “But for now I must deny your request until we are sure you did not expose us. I’m sure you can understand how careful we must be. You could seek the council’s opinion. They can also grant that permission despite my misgivings.”
Cho sat up. “Then may I leave the city?”
“I would allow it,” he replied. “But only our scouts may come and go. Anyone else who leaves may never return. That has been our policy since the Haven theft.”
“Stay,” said Matthias. “For just a few days, stay here, do your investigating, meet some of our people.”
“Our people,” said Cho in a mocking tone. “We aren’t a people. We’re barely persons.”
Matthias shook his head.
Andrei exhaled. “I echo Matthias’s sentiments. Stay for a while. Let us find out what new feats you are capable of. We have competitions and training and even our own arts you can partake in.”
“I’ll think it over.”
Matthias stood. “Thank you for seeing us, Andrei. But I think we’ve taken up enough of your time.”
The Dracul rose from his chair and embraced Trent. “You are always welcome to bother me,” he said, then nodded. “Though I would like some solitude now, thank you.” He turned to Cho. “I hope we get the chance to speak again soon, Tsenka.”
She stood and nodded. “Likewise.”
Tsenka Cho paced around her small living quarters, considering the decision before her. “He’s hiding something,” she muttered.
Matthias had made himself at home in her room, lying on her bed in a relaxed pose with his hands behind his head. “He’s ancient, I’m sure he’s got lots to hide.”
Cho stopped. “I mean about Makida and Haven. I can’t shake the feeling.”
“You’re inventing the feeling,” countered Trent. “And just because you don’t know it, doesn’t mean it’s hidden.”
“I need to check on Taq,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Can we arrange for a scout to get a message out if I were to stay?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” he replied. “I think one is leaving tomorrow. I’ll check.”
“Good,” she said, looking at him. “Ey, you think you are sleeping here?” She gave the side of the mattress a light kick.
Matthias reluctantly sat up. “Chill, brol,” he said. “Everything will be fine. Just enjoy it here, like a vacation. A really weird vacation underground.”
Tsenka sat beside him. “May as well, since I’m stuck here.”
“Speaking of Taq, is Kate still…?”
Cho nodded. “I haven’t visited her in a long time.”
“Me either.”
They sat for a moment, their shoulders pressed together, both staring at the floor.
“What is this memory transference Drac mentioned?” Tsenka asked to break the silence.
“Just as it sounds.”
“Like you take someone’s memories? Or give yours?”
“Giving,” he said. “I can show you things that happened in my life, and you’d feel like you experienced them. I don’t even have to remember every detail. It transfers them at a deeper level than conscious thought. You might know more about the memory than I would once finished.”
“I can see the use in that,” she said. “I’d have to allow it?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“It’s harder to push memories when someone resists,” he elaborated. “But I’m talented, or so Andrei tells me.”
“Sure you are.”
“Want to try it?” he asked, unable to hide his excitement. “I have the perfect memory.”
“I dunno,” she said, leaning away from him.
“Oh, come on, don’t bitch out.” He stood and offered his hand.
“Ey!” she yelled. “Don’t be an ass.” She stared at his hand, then took it and stood to face him. “Alright, but it better not be the time you bent me over your table.”
“Which time?” he asked, eliciting a smile from her.
“I’m serious,” she warned, poking her finger into his chest.
“Of course,” he said. “Now, hold still a moment.” Trent placed his hands to Tsenka’s temples. “Close your eyes. It will help prevent some of the disorientation.” She did as asked. “Now, clear your thoughts,” he instructed.
Matthias closed his eyes and concentrated, and floodgates opened into Cho’s mind. In the matter of a few quick moments, she experienced several minutes of Matthias pounding her from behind while she bent over his dining room table during their first date. Except this time, she was doing the pounding and feeling his exhilaration.
Her breath quickened and blood rushed to her face, though her synthetic skin did not show it. Cho’s hand instinctively pressed against her crotch. After he finished transferring, Matthias moved his hands away from her head. She opened her eyes, her gaze burrowing into his soul.
“You son of a bitch!” she declared, grabbing the loose fabric of his shirt at the collarbone. She pulled him toward her and glommed her lips over his. He put his hands on her biceps and pushed, but she slapped his arms away and strafed around him, then pushed him onto the bed, falling with him and mounting his lap.
“I ought to get a strap-on and pound you,” she said.
“You didn’t bring one?” asked Matthias.
Tsenka pulled her shirt off and started untying his belt.
“Time for new memories,” she said.
They made love, and in some ways the experience was familiar, and in others foreign. They were who they had always been, but after over a decade apart, they were also different. Each had obtained a decade’s worth of scars and knowledge, forcing an evolution of their character, and so each felt both familiar and foreign to the other as they rocked, caressed, moaned and sighed.
“Dammit,” said Cho as she lay naked on the bed with Trent’s head on her chest. “I wasn’t going to do this. You play dirty.”
“I know,” he said.
Tsenka sighed. “This takes me back to a life I left behind. Or one that left me behind.”
“I still think about it,” he said. “Those were the best years of my life.”
Tsenka blinked away a tear. “I miss our bunnies, Matt.”
“Sage
and Rosemary.”
“Yeah.”
“Me too,” he said. “Is that why you left me?”
“No. But I had already felt like we hadn’t been us for a while when Sage passed. And I guess that was the last strand holding me in place.”
“That’s depressing,” Trent said.
“Ya. Your memories,” she said. “It was like I was there, and I felt what you felt. The emotions were intense and almost foreign.”
“Everyone feels things differently,” he replied.
“It was like I was younger, more excited,” she observed. “I can feel it draining away from me, and I don’t like it.”
“The nature of being a nocturnal,” stated Matthias. “I warned you about all of this years ago. I even exaggerated the emotion estrangement to try to dissuade you.”
“I don’t want it anymore,” she said. “It’s become a curse.”
“I know. But we still have fun sometimes.”
Tsenka grinned. “Yeah. But you still can’t move in with me.”
“Wouldn’t want to,” he claimed.
“Uh huh. I should get up and see about talking to that scout.”
“You should,” agreed Trent. “And then we go dancing.”
Tsenka sighed. “I suppose there’s no harm in a little fun.”
Episode 13: Jailbroken
Speed metal blared inside Daria Cretu’s head, fed from deep-fitting ear inserts. Her com implant could play sounds directly to her auditory nerve synapses, but she decided the music lost its magic that way. Her head bobbed as she walked to the exit of the abandoned shopping mall. She stopped at an old fizz dispenser and placed her hand to the receiver. It buzzed and spat out a cola.
She squinted as the morning sun bathed her in its light, then pulled the orbital socket-molded shades resting on her head down over her eyes and pulled the tab off the can of pop.
“I’m here, Desre,” she announced.
The seer appeared before her. “Am I no longer your goddess?”
Cretu shrugged. “I don’t know what you are anymore. When you worked with Tsenka, you were a mage, right?”
“Yes,” said Desre.