The Waif's Tale

by C. L. Stegall

  I faltered in my movement when I saw Salem stop dead still and stare at me. His hand went to his face, his wide eyes darting to the observing crowd. It was with amusement that I realized I had embarrassed him by slapping him. I remembered the look of anger that had flashed across the boy's face when Mr. Marco had slapped him in class years before. If I had simply struck him with my fist, that would have been a proper martial action. Now, a slap by a girl seemed to have pushed him past some strange mental wall. I could see my opportunity arise as he blinked away tears and bellowed in rage. His wet eyes narrowed and he rushed at me.

  Without a second thought, I faked a motion to my right. Then, just as he closed with me, I darted left and shot my fist into his face with all the force I could manage. Salem was so much larger than me that my tightly balled fist fit well into his eye socket. I screamed out in thunderous agony as the bones in my hand cracked and tore themselves from their own cartilage from the force of the blow. My cry rang in unison with Salem's as he fell to his knees.

  I held my throbbing hand and turned back to the boy, who was screaming and crying and holding his bloody face. Moving around to face him, I could tell that my blow had ruptured his eyeball. Clear, mucous-like fluid mingled with the blood escaping his fingers, down his hands and into his lap.

  That was it. Salem was done in.

  For only a moment, I thought it was over. Then, I realized that no one in the bleachers had made sound. No one had moved a muscle. There was an air of anticipation that was nearly palpable. I looked to London, whose bruised face held little expression other than a sort of understanding and empathy. She did not look sad, but her eyes led me to believe there was something I was missing. I shifted my eyes to the magistrate.

  The cold blue steel held no secrets. My task was obvious and inevitable. I looked back at Salem, broken and bleeding, on his knees as if in prayer. He would never recover from such a wound and the Valensi would never accept him with such a handicap. I would be doing him a favor. I paced around him, opening my broken hand. I didn't think. I simply acted. In a swift and brutal and unforgiving motion, I reached down, grasped Salem's chin with my good hand and the back of his head with my shattered one, then twisted with all of my might. Salem's screams faded as mine echoed through the room.

  The pain in my hand edged toward numbness as I crumpled to the floor. I lifted my unbroken hand to my face and observed the deep crimson of Salem's blood that now covered it. Without thinking, I licked the blood from my palm. Its salty, metallic flavor was not as horrible as I expected; in fact, it was somewhat delicious – the taste of victory. In that moment, I saw the path laid out before me. My destiny had been set. I wondered if this was what my future truly held. Is this what I have to look forward to for the centuries to come? Will I forever be driven by bloodlust, hungering for the blood of others?

  CHAPTER 19

  PRESENT

  I t was after midnight as Rae and I strolled along I-Drive, chatting about various subjects of little consequence. She did remind me quite a bit of myself, although her youth had lasted a lot longer than my own. Appearances notwithstanding.

  I thought about how strange it seemed, how drawn I was to this girl. As a human and as a tortured individual, I would normally see her as prey. Instead, I felt an unusual kinship with her. Regardless of our somewhat similar familial pasts, it still did not make much sense to me. For the time being I let it go.

  "So, you're from England, huh?" she asked.

  "Yes. Bristol."

  "How'd you wind up here, in Florida of all places?"

  "It's a long story, Rae. One you probably shouldn't worry about." I didn't want to scare her, tell her that just being around me may make her a target.

  "What's that supposed to mean? You're too young to be a spy, right? What the hell?" Her face scrunched up in consternation and within the mask of makeup and black lipstick, it was just too adorable. I couldn't help but laugh. "What's so funny, huh? I told you my secrets, what're yours?"

  "You really want to know my secrets?" I asked. I held up a finger and then pointed it at her. "Keep in mind that my secrets are the kind that can get you killed."

  "What's it matter? Maybe shed a little light, a little excitement, into this dreary-ass life of mine."

  I hesitated. Did I really want to tell Rae the truth? Why put her into that position? Then, again, she might not even believe me. Or, she might think me a loon and run away like a mouse from a cat. I smirked, internally, at the simile that was so apropos. For whatever reason, I decided it might be nice to share. I had no one else with whom to speak, to bounce my ideas off of. Rae appeared as open-minded as they came, so why not?

  "When I was seven years old, my father killed my mother in a drunken rage. Before he could get to me, I ran away. I lived on the streets of Bristol for almost two years before I was taken away by..." I wasn't sure how to continue. Rae seemed to be holding her breath in anticipation. I said the word that was forbidden within the Citadel. "Vampires."

  Rae stared at me, her shoulders slumped and she looked off into the night. We walked on for another minute before she turned to me and said, "You almost had me, there, Paris. Almost."

  "Yeah," I said. "I didn't think you'd believe me. Nevertheless, shall I continue?" I saw the slight shrug of her shoulders and spilled my guts. I told her of how they had trained me, how I had become a part of this race of super-humans and of how I was forced to make the fateful decision that had made me an assassin's target. I explained that I was willing to take my chances rather than stay and die.

  "That's one hell of a story." She smiled at me and the condescension irked me enough that I made another brash decision.

  There was only one other person in sight, some fifty meters away on the other side of the road, so I darted ahead of Rae, moving a hundred meters in just under three seconds. Just as quickly, I returned to stop only inches from Rae's face. Her eyes were wide and she had frozen in place. As realization overtook her, so did the weight of what she had just seen. As her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees buckled. I caught her before she hit the pavement, picking her up and placing her on a bus bench a short distance away.

  Rae came to and, seeing my smiling face, scuttled away to the far end of the bench, her eyes glued to me in what I could only assume was fear. I was tempted to sneak into her mind but I had promised myself that Rae would be exempt from my prying for the time being. I needed a friend and honesty seemed to be the best policy in this case.

  "You're not—," she began.

  "Human?" I said, cutting her off. "Not really. Sort of. Let's just say, more than and leave it at that."

  "Holy shit."

  "I suppose," I said. My smile was open and honest and even in her state she could not misread that. I could see her visibly relax a little, though she was still cowering.

  "Seriously? Vampire? Blood-drinker?"

  "On occasion," I said. I'd explain later.

  "So," she began, giving in to her curiosity, "Crosses? Garlic? Sunlight?"

  "No. No. Yes." I sat cross-legged on the bench and folded my hands in my lap. It seemed the least aggressive posture I could think of at the moment. "I have nothing against Christianity. I love garlic, garlic bread, in particular. but, yes, I have an allergic reaction to sunlight, similar to porphyria. My sunburns can kill me. However, there a few of us who have built up an immunity over time."

  "Immunity? Over how much time?"

  "It takes hundreds of years, I understand. I've not had that kind of time." I waited with patience for what I knew would be the next question.

  "How old are you? Really?"

  "I was born in the late 80s. The 1880s. I was birthed into the Valensi when I was 15. We age at a rate of about sixty years to one year of actual aging. Next month is my birthday. I'll be 137 years old."

  "Oh, my God."

  "What? Don't I look damned good for my age?" I said it with serious sincerity, feigning a little hurt at her remark. She hesitated, trying to determine if I w
ere being serious. She then loosened up a bit more and smiled.

  "Yeah, I guess you do." She sat there in silence for several minutes. I could see she was running things, facts, myths and such through her head. She was trying to determine if I were a threat. I thought it was obvious that if I were a threat she'd already be dead. Perhaps I had given her too much credit.

  "Do you really have to drink blood to stay alive?" she asked.

  "Yes and no."

  "Huh?"

  "You see, our chemical makeup, our biology is both stronger and weaker than a human's. We have a different blood type than humans and that alone has various side effects. To put it simply, our hemoglobin has an excess of porphyrins, making it thicker, denser than a human's. In order for our bodies to pump this denser blood properly through our systems, we have a larger, thicker-walled heart, thicker veins and the rest of our biosystems are compensatory, as well."

  "Uh, what?" Rae asked. I realized I had gone way over her head.

  "Our bodies are super strong and resilient. but, the lack of certain chemicals in our system calls for the periodic intake of human blood in order to keep our bodies at optimal performance. Still, it's not necessary if you don't mind dying a slow and somewhat painful death."

  "So, how often do you have to...?"

  "About once a month keeps me going without issue. Otherwise, I eat like a horse—as you saw back at the restaurant—since my metabolism is off the charts." I refrained from informing her of the other little talents I had developed over the last century. I figured she'd had enough information overload for one night.

  "Wait," she said, finally putting it all together. "You're basically human, then? Alive, not dead?"

  "Not dead," I said, a laugh bubbling up that I failed to prevent. "Very much alive, thank you."

  "Wow."

  "You have a way with words, you know that?"

  "Fuck you," she said, getting back to her normal, sardonic self.

  "I rest my case," I said with a shrug of my shoulders and she laughed out loud.

  We stood and continued walking down the street, with her asking various questions and me answering them as honestly as I could. It was nice to chat with someone like this. It had been so long. I hadn't confided in anyone since Garrett. At the mere thought of him, I pushed it all aside, trying to ignore the fact that he might be the one they sent after me.

  As we walked and talked, I was so enjoying the conversation that I wasn't paying as much attention to my surroundings. If I had been, perhaps I would have noticed that we were being watched. Again.

  CHAPTER 20

  1891, The Citadel, Age 14

  L ondon and I both chose to wait until we were a couple of years older to be formally birthed into the Valensi. After long discussions, we had decided that at our mid-teens, our bodies would have developed enough that we would be comfortable with the severe stall in our aging process, once we were Valensi. It was a girls' thing and surprisingly met with little resistance. Even the magistrate, our new commander, informed Dusk and Dawn that he supported our decision. We would continue our training at pace, however. At first, I wasn't certain what he'd meant by that. Then, less than a month after my broken hand had fully healed, Dusk broke my arm during sparring and I realized it would not have happened had I already been turned. Nevertheless, I promised myself that I would always think through my decisions and accept any consequences thereof.

  Dusk was a solemn but pleasant boss. He had a quick grasp of any situation and was able to read and predict many possible outcomes, then choose the most effective path to success. It was a talent I envied. He was a born leader. For a short time, London even had a crush on him but she pretty much kept that to herself, whispering her secret to me only once she began to lose the emotion to a more powerful one: respect.

  Dusk was the exact opposite of Dawn. Aside from their opposing looks, their character and natures were nearly counter as well. Whereas Dusk was patient and thoughtful, Dawn was always restless, eager to make a move and harsh in her criticisms. It took some getting used to. What I found most interesting was her deferment to Dusk in most matters of leadership. I got the distinct impression that they held private counsel with one another more than we would ever know. Still, every once in a while, Dawn would speak out.

  Once, the year before I was to be brought into the fold, it became apparent that Dawn saw herself as the maternal figure of the High Guard, to Dusk's paternal nature. I was learning much about the ways of the Valensi as my birthing, as they called it, drew closer.

  "London, Paris," Dawn's voice rang out with her unmistakable tone of command. She tried not to use it too often. When she did, it was with the expectation that her words would be promptly and fully heeded. "It's been decided that we will have weekly inspections of your quarters. This is to ensure that the standards of the High Guard are being followed both in public as well as in your private time."

  "How very militaristic," London commented, standing from the sofa where we both sat in the High Guard Operations Room, which served as a command post, as well as a gathering area. The décor was horrible but, at least, something was done to enhance the large room nearly once a month. No matter how minor.

  "You will do as you're told," Dawn said, her bright blue eyes darkening for a split second. I was leaning back on the sofa, one arm over the back, watching her.

  "So, you're a mother hen, as well as VP in charge of ops? Nice." I was smiling but Dawn was not. "You do realize that was a joke, right?"

  "Of course," she replied. "It was just not a very good one. First inspection is tomorrow. That's incredibly nice of me, right? I'm giving you a full day to ensure that your living quarters are in the proper shape. No rush."

  "Yes, Mother Hen," I said, moving from the sofa toward the door. Vienna – or "Vi," as we liked to call her – laughed out loud. It was the first time I'd ever heard her laugh. She was similar to Dusk, in that we didn't think she even had a sense of humor. I was smart enough to keep walking to avoid giving Dawn the chance to smack me. London was close on my heels.

  "You're an idiot," she said, as she stepped up to match my pace down the hallway.

  "Why?"

  "You're trying to irritate her."

  "No, I'm just trying to understand her. There's a difference."

  "That's a thin line with her. Don't you have training with her this afternoon?" London peered at me. I scrunched up my nose in thought.

  "Good point," I said. "At least my arm healed up nicely. Perhaps she'll only break the other one."

  "You have a queer sense of humor. Do you know that?"

  "Of course!" I poked her in the arm with my index finger and she managed a smile that was more of a smirk.

  "You are so strange."

  "You have no idea," I said. I was still smiling when I entered my room. I'd left London at hers, several doors down from mine. She was such a good friend and I was glad to have her by my side through the High Guard training. I closed my door behind me and faced my quarters.

  My new apartment, granted me upon graduation, was little more than 400 square feet. There was a sitting room, a space for a decent bed and a bathroom. That was all I really needed anyway. We ate in one of the three cafeterias or our ops room. Everything else was provided. From what I'd read, it was not that much different than being in the military in some nations. I figured the inspections were nothing of great consequence and it was some time before I realized their true purpose, which went far beyond just making sure we had no dust under the bed.

  CHAPTER 21

  1892, The Citadel, Age 15

  Y ou will experience pain like you could never imagine. However, it will be worth it." The magistrate's words hung in the air with the weight of promise and warning.

  "I understand," I said.

  "Not yet," he said, "but you will. The ceremony will begin in fifteen minutes. Prepare yourself. Be present. It is important that you are fully present in mind, body and soul. I've seen your will in all its glory, young Paris
. You're going need it fully today. Make no mistake."

  I nodded, leaving many questions left unspoken. My decision had been made years ago and now it was to come to fruition. There would be no turning back. I watched as he swept out of the room, his deep burgundy cloak flowing along behind him like a waterfall of blood. My heart began to race. I sat on the floor, cross-legged, in the dressing room that sat behind the Audience Chamber.

  The Audience Chamber was where the magistrate and the other members of the hierarchy held court. It was an expansive, auditorium-like chamber that had been carved out of solid stone. The acoustics were ridiculous. Since the Citadel was underground, it was forever being expanded. Still, the chamber was one of the initial spaces that had been set up, back when the work on our secret city was first begun.

  Within the Audience Chamber was also where tribunals took place, criminal and civil trials over which the magistrate solely presided. If a situation had made it so far as to require a tribunal, then the hierarchy had already discussed the situation. It would then come down to the magistrate hearing the case and passing final judgment. Whatever that judgment was, it was never questioned; his word was unassailable. Still, I was not certain whether the sentencing was decided beforehand, amongst all of the hierarchy. If it was, it certainly wasn't presented that way.

  Sitting there, meditating to slow my heart rate, to regain the calm I knew I would require for the birthing ceremony, I accepted my future. I knew I was right where I was meant to be. I was about to be made nigh immortal and it just felt right, as if it was my destiny. My internal clock had improved dramatically over the last few years of training and high levels of order in my life. With only two minutes to spare, I stood and walked, my head held high, into the Audience Chamber.

  I ignored the legion of Valensi who had shown up for the auspicious occasion. I had not thought much about it but I wondered how the other class of students was doing. I gathered that the classes began every four years and if their success rate was to mirror ours, that sure didn't add up to the vast Valensi population very much. The one question no one had thought to ask slammed into my brain and I took a deep breath to keep my face from revealing too much. Why haven't I thought to question this before? I peered around briefly at those present. Nothing provided any hints but it seemed a valid query. Can the Valensi reproduce? Can they give birth? It would be something I would have to ask. Now, though, my thoughts turned to the magistrate.