Cursed Relic

by Shawn Knightley

  Tobias stood up straight, desperately wanting to be snide and resisting the urge as well as he was capable.

  “Come with me, Georgeanna,” Arthur said as he turned his back to Tobias and walked up the stairs.

  I followed along behind him and heard Tobias’s steps climbing up the stairs to follow.

  “You wait outside, Tobias,” Arthur ordered him. “I don’t want a vampire in my family home any longer than absolutely necessary. And stay away from the staff downstairs. They’re not your morning meal.”

  I could hear Tobias grumbling. And even better, I sensed his resentment. I took pleasure in the smaller joys of life from time to time. Seeing the man who caused me so much pain suffer the same fate I had endured as a slave was something of a consolation.

  I followed Arthur up the staircase not entirely sure what would happen. Would he punish me? Demand more of an explanation as to what took place at the Red Rocks Amphitheater? Arthur was a worthy master but still unpredictable. I respected him. I did as he commanded. But part of me still feared him. Perhaps that was where a portion of my respect stemmed from.

  He led me down the long hallways over the banister and to his private study a few floors up. It didn’t matter how many times I was permitted to walk through the Matthews home, it still stunned me. The array of flags hanging from various armies that had risen only to fall on their own blades. The paintings from centuries long past and brush stroke styles long since abandoned. The tapestries, swords, and armor displayed through the main hall were enough to make one feel as though they were walking through a museum. A space in time that had been forgotten and allowed to stay stuck in an era not its own. A soft reminder that the Matthews family carried a legacy that refused to be left in the past. Arthur had a long line of vixra before him that sacrificed a great deal to make sure witchlings survived. Until ancestors like my own decided that humans were better company and started diluting our magic by breeding with them. There was a constant pain inside of Arthur that he wasn’t aware I could sense. The pain of watching his own kind fall deeper and deeper into an abyss we may never climb out of. One where we willingly allowed our kind to be bred out of existence. The vixra were a reminder that we should have kept to ourselves. We should have held our own sovereignty more dearly. And we should have respected the sacrifices our ancestors made to keep us safe and our magic powerful. Some of us proved less than worthy of it.

  But if there was one thing I saw myself as worthy of, it was my freedom. I didn’t have a promise from the vixra that they would ever free me. Nor did I count on it. And yet, I held out hope that one day the opportunity would present itself. That I might gain some sort of leverage. And if helping to contain the former members of the Catach-Brayin was that leverage, I would seek it relentlessly.

  When I stepped into Arthur’s private study, he closed the door behind me and locked it. I wasn’t sure what that meant. Was he going to punish me after all? Scold me? Did he want me alone so he could do so without repercussions of Tobias seeing it?

  Repercussions? Who was I kidding? Tobias didn’t care enough about me centuries ago to let me mark him. He certainly didn’t care what the vixra did with me now.

  “I see Tobias hasn’t quite adjusted,” said Arthur as he took a long metal iron and tossed around the logs in the nearby fireplace.

  “He’s used to being the master, not the slave,” I answered.

  Arthur grunted as the logs of wood moved about and crumbled, then he lifted another log from the corner of the room with the magic weaving in his hand and placed it gently on top of the other logs without ever touching it, letting the green light whirling around in his fingers effortlessly seep back inside his skin. A fire gently started to form over the logs, giving the chilly stone room a hint of warmth. I watched him with acute fascination. It was rare that he or any other vixra used their magic around a kruxa. Let alone one of their slaves. Unless it was to punish us, of course.

  “Sit down, Georgeanna,” Arthur ordered.

  I took the large leather chair opposite his desk and watched as he sat down with an almost elegant grace. He placed both hands on the arms of his chair and examined me carefully.

  “You’re lucky my father sleeps in most days,” he said. “He hasn’t seen the morning news yet.”

  My eyes fell to the floor. The memory from centuries ago flashed before me. How Edmund Matthews discovered me hiding in the American colonies and captured me just when I thought I had finally escaped the fate that awaited me. How he made me a slave with the curse of immortality, making me regret my decision with every fiber of my being. I did my best to avoid him when I was forced to meet the vixra for further orders. I could handle Arthur but seeing Edmund always left me with a sense of hopelessness for days. I guess it was the difference between encountering one’s prison guard and running into the warden.

  “Yes,” I said calmly.

  “Fortunate for you I wasn’t born yet. I don’t have memories of your crimes. I only ever heard of them as I watched you walk in and out of these halls as a child. I won’t be as harsh as he would like.”

  It took vixra witchlings five years to age a single human one. They had the wisdom of seeing ages pass by that lower-tier witchlings would never understand. And I was old enough to know that living that long wasn’t as romantic as humans liked to believe.

  “Thank you, master,” I said quietly.

  He gave a sigh and sat back in the chair. “Tell me every detail of what happened,” he said. “Don’t leave a single thing out.”

  ‘Now you want the details? I could have given them to you in the entrance hall.’

  Even so, I did exactly as he commanded, figuring that he probably wanted to hear it all from me without Tobias sneering nearby.

  “You must find this woman,” he said, referring to the blonde vampire that got away from me.

  “I intend to. But it wouldn’t have happened if Tobias had been beside me. His vampire speed might have been able to stop her.”

  “Or it would have been noticed.”

  “I think what I was forced to do was a little more noticeable.”

  “Forced? You could have let the young man die in her arms, you know?”

  I peered up at him and gave a small shake of my head. “No, I couldn’t,” I said. “I had to take control of the situation.”

  He laughed. “A kruxa believing she has control of what happens with her magic. Rather ironic, wouldn’t you say?”

  I didn’t reply. It wasn’t as much of a question as an observation. One that was entirely true but hurtful to a lowly kruxa like me nevertheless.

  “Georgeanna, that is the one area where Tobias fails and I expect you to succeed,” he said. “You don’t make false assumptions as he does. He’s had centuries to hone his skills of observation and yet people still manage to slip through his fingers. Tobias spent a great deal of time believing that he was in control of the Catach-Brayin. In reality, I had spies inside it for decades. Vampires whose loyalty was greater toward the vixra. They helped us direct the coven in ways that allowed us a certain amount of control.”

  “Do you expect me to be able to control a vampire like Tobias?” I asked a bit stunned.

  “No. Of course not. But I do expect you to be smarter than him. I expect you to judge the situation appropriately given you have probably spent more time among vixra than any other kruxa has had the privilege.”

  ‘Privilege? Did you forget that part where I’m enslaved? I wasn’t given a choice in the matter.’

  “And I expect you to use that sort of judgment when assessing a situation that you and I both know vampires are incapable of practicing,” he continued.

  Even with Tobias having lived for so many centuries, the vixra still thought of him as a wild beast. Just like any other vampire. Perhaps Tobias was more refined, but at the end of the day, he was still the low of the low. A creature that should never have been created.

  “Yes, master,” I said obediently. It wasn’t much of him to s
ay that I needed to act with a touch more grace and fortitude when working with a vampire. But the least he could do is get Tobias in line so I wasn’t alone while hunting again.

  He got up from the chair and walked over to the wood panel wall. Only this wood wasn’t just simple panels. It was carved with intricate designs suited for only the most wealthy of households that favored older tastes.

  He set his fingers under some of the woodwork and pulled it outward. There was a hidden compartment inside. By the way he moved I thought he was reaching for something large. Potentially even a bit heavy. But when he turned around it looked like nothing more than a thin silver cylinder with leather wrapped around it. Until he placed it on his desk with a heavy clunk that nearly shook the desk.

  “Hunting vampires is as much of an art as it is a skill,” he said. “It takes more than the ability to wield a blade. It takes patience, determination, and foresight. This has been in my family since long before you were born and I expect you to keep it in good condition. I also expect you to use it rather than cause a scene that makes humans believe an act of terrorism has occurred. You and I both know that the few humans who are aware of our existence would love nothing more than an excuse to use the guise of terrorist acts in order to dig deeper into our affairs. It’s now your job to prevent that from happening.”

  He handed the cylinder to me and I took it. Oddly enough, it felt as though there was a heaviness to it on one side. Then before I could think too much more about it, Arthur let out a stream of green magic from his fingers and into the leather-bound cylinder. His magic crawled up the length to reveal metallic silver inch by inch.

  It was a stunning silver sword. And it could only be revealed by magic. The only part that was visible without it was the handle.

  I sat there admiring it. I may have been a female born to a time when women didn’t learn things such as swordplay but I could admire the beautiful work that created the glorious weapon in my hand. I indulged in a few fencing lessons over the recent decades. And I was already eager to see how the blade felt when I swung it through the air.

  “This was made by one of my ancestors in the 14th century,” Arthur explained. “It has a few modern modifications, of course. It was a time when vampires were running wild across the European continent and many vixra did what they could to contain the damage they caused. Some of us even took up the task of hunting the ones who proved they were unworthy of living.”

  I glanced away from the sword. “You’re trusting me with it?”

  “For a time. I expect it returned. But granted Tobias is still growing accustomed to the idea of hunting those he spent centuries nurturing in his coven, you might be on your own to decide whether or not certain vampires you find are worthy of serving the vixra or simply dying. After all, Tobias’s judgment has proved unreliable.”

  I set the sword in my lap, allowing his words to sink in. Arthur was gently reminding me of Tobias’s crimes. And even though Tobias was expected to do the will of the vixra, he wasn’t yet capable of earning the same level of responsibility Arthur was giving me.

  “This sword was designed to kill vampires,” he continued. “I know they can be extremely difficult to kill given most who get too close to one end up dead. But you’ll find this sword has certain…attributes that will help you in the coming months ahead.”

  “Months?” I asked. “Do you really think it will take us that long to find what’s left of the Catach-Brayin?”

  “My dear, I wouldn’t be surprised if my estimation is a bit naive. It could very well take you years.”

  3

  I exited the Matthews manor and met Tobias outside. The sword was back to looking like nothing more than a cylinder at my side strapped to my leather belt right beside my gun in its holster.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “He’s not pleased with you,” I said.

  “Why do I get the feeling that man is rarely ever pleased?”

  “The vixra haven’t stayed alive for as long as they have because they allow themselves to get too comfortable.”

  I heard him muttering something under his breath but ignored him as I opened up another vixra tunnel to take us back to Denver. We parted in silence once we reached the other side, stepped back into the alley, and walked back to the sidewalk of 16th Street Mall. I peered behind me as he trudged down the street in the opposite direction without even a word of farewell. It was late and there were only a few people stumbling out the bars as they closed up for the night, chattering among themselves about who was sober enough to drive home.

  Tobias carried an air about him that caused even drunken fools to give him a wide birth as he walked. He shoved both hands into the pockets of his leather jacket as he went. The women admired him. The men simply got out of his way. I often wondered if he carried the same air of confidence and menace when he was a mortal. Long before vampire blood ever poisoned his body and turned him into the beast he was today.

  I turned around and headed for my new apartment that the Matthews provided for me. Modest at best, but livable. I didn’t expect much. I had a bed, a kitchen, a tub, and a fireplace. Having grown up in rural Scotland in the 18th century, I can say with complete honesty that I had lived comfortably with much less.

  I walked to the apartment a few blocks down the road, hoping the roar of motorcycles going by as bikers left the local bars would eventually dissipate by the time I got inside and tried to get some sleep. But that wouldn’t be for another few hours. I had work to do first.

  Once I was inside I turned on the lights and went over to the window. I shoved it upward to leave it open, feeling the cool night time air and smelling diesel from the cars pulling out down below.

  A cawing noise reached my ears and I sat on a recliner in the corner, waiting for the familiarity of the large hawk coming in for the night. When she landed on the window sill I had my arms crossed over my chest.

  “Kitty,” I said her name with a stern voice. “You know better than to get too close to Tobias. I told you to keep your distance. You can only be my secret weapon if you remain a secret.”

  Maybe calling her my secret weapon was a bit much but I knew it gave her a thrill to hear it. She was more like my secret spy. My pair of extra eyes and ears. And how I generally kept track of Tobias without him knowing.

  She cawed into the living room as she watched me with those bright honey colored eyes. The bond we shared stretched between us and I felt her consciousness touch mine.

  “I know,” she said in a small voice that trickled into my mind with a sweet softness, forcing my stern attitude to dwindle into nothing. I could never stay mad at her for long. And she knew it. “But he had you cornered. I was worried.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  “Just because you can handle yourself doesn’t mean you should always have to.”

  I sighed. “What choice do I have these days?”

  “You don’t have to invalidate my entire existence.”

  I took a deep breath, forcing myself to see things her way as much as I was able. But I knew the truth. She was merely a vessel. A copy of the real thing. The real person I could hear speaking through her was long gone.

  The memory still haunted me to this day. My great-granddaughter, Kitty, was one of the sweetest souls ever born on this earth. I kept a close eye on my descendants over the centuries. Of which there were many now. For the first century of my immortality, I tried to maintain a certain level of involvement in their lives. It proved more and more difficult as time went by. Not to mention painful. I still kept a watchful eye on them but I rarely ever got involved in their lives. The part of me that tried to stay in close contact of my descendants ended when Kitty died. My beautiful and sweet great-granddaughter Kitty whose husband had left to fight in the Confederate army, leaving her alone to care for her two boys in a time of great turmoil and uncertainty. After a year of hearing nothing from him, she assumed the worst. And I eased myself into her life as nothing more than a friend sh
e could rely on. Only after we both knew she was dying of tuberculosis at the young age of twenty-six did she tell me the truth. She had a vision when she was thirteen-years-old that she would meet me one day, that we would become close, and that she knew who I was all along. On her death bed, she told me she had a gift for me. She somehow managed to collect enough of her magic over the years to make sure I wasn’t alone in the future. And she passed on her consciousness to a hawk that would always be with me for company. It still fills me with guilt to think of how she managed it. Such a spell would take at least five or six years for a kruxa to collect enough magic to complete. Which was why most kruxa didn’t practice spells to start with. We can do the occasional charm such as the shadows I cast, but what she did took so much effort. She must have worked at it daily for years. And for that reason, I kept the bird close. If for no other reason than to honor her effort.

  ‘She should have used her magic to cure herself. Not on me.’

  Or so I constantly told myself. I knew the truth. And so did she. Even if we combined our magic it wouldn’t have been enough. Kruxa magic could cure a common cold or the flu but not something like tuberculosis. Even though lord knows I tried. Several times. Anything to keep her alive longer.

  But this damn bird wasn’t truly her. It wasn’t my Kitty. It was a magical copy of her consciousness. I guess what people in the 21st century would call a clone. My true great-granddaughter died in the night as I held her close in her sleep. I could feel her soul leave her body and go somewhere I wasn’t permitted to follow. And I was left with the hawk for company. The hawk who communicated to me through a mental connection that Kitty thought would keep me company during my darkest days.

  Sweet, sweet Kitty. If only she had known that the reminder often caused me more pain. But she meant well. So I cared for the immortal bird as well as I could. Even though hearing her voice call to me often hurt my heart.