Cheating Death (Wraith's Rebellion Book 2)
Page 32
“What’s that mean?” Amma asked. “Lu could project his soul.”
“No, that was Death,” Helen said. “Lu was turned as he lay dying of whatever marked his face. So, upon being turned, he had the power to make and spread viruses. Or bacteria, I’m not certain. Margaret would be the one to ask, but she’s dead.”
“She would kill us, leaving the general population alive,” Bob said weakly. “Before she would have had to hunt us to the ends of the Earth and rip out our throats. Now she can use the humans to pass on a disease that doesn’t hurt them at all. Then make new vampires, better-behaved vampires.”
Helen nodded. “You guys would be dead within a decade.”
“And how do we appease our God?” Balor asked.
“Heed any warnings you receive from her. They will come through the Oracle. And smarten the hell up!”
“Excuse me?” Amma asked.
“Uh, you thought there was only one way to kill a vampire?” she asked.
“Besides Wraith now, and the Great Maker, yes, we did,” Amma said sternly.
“There are seventeen ways to kill a vampire, not all of you are turned with one power, transference happens a lot faster than you think it does, and it does happen, and, oh yeah, the events of the past two nights!”
“You should probably share what you mean by that,” I said.
“Really? Okay. There was the flagrant disregard of mortal and vampiric life. Ignoring the evidence before your eyes, not having cameras on the archive, not auditing the Younger Council, holding absolutely no one except—as near as I can tell—Quin accountable for his actions, not believing an outside perspective, not investigating a crime, not checking in on those under house arrest more often, not putting an alert on the cage door.
“And then there’s tonight. When you tried to swindle Quin out of his payment, argued with him, hounded him, thought about disciplining him for having a secret, which I know you all have. Then there was letting him go off by himself to face the big bad wolf. Where was the backup? Did none of you think maybe sending one man after a guy known for killing multiple people at a time was a bad idea?
“Because it was a bad idea.
“Then—this is the best part—the day was only saved by a fledgling who is so young compared to you that her years barely equate to one percent of yours. It was also saved by the Great Maker, who just so happened to be in town tonight. Just on a whim, she was like, ‘Hey, maybe I should check on the morons,’ and it’s a good thing she did because if she didn’t, we would have been looking at an extinction event on the global level.
“Just let me be clear on this. By all rights, your asses should be dead.”
I pressed my lips together as the Council watched Helen placcidly.
“If any of you says anything about how this is how things have been done forever, I will come over there and slap you,” she added.
Her tone alone almost drew a chuckle from me. Instead, I rubbed at my beard as Amma’s mouth opened ever so slightly and Helen turned to her, jabbing a finger in her direction. It was both warning and end of the argument.
“Unless you are about to say that you had a plan, and would like to share that plan with the rest of us, you had best close your mouth.”
Amma closed her mouth.
“Speaking to the Council like this as a fledgling is hardly permitted,” Balor said.
“In the past two days, I have been scared, scarred, cut to prove I was mortal, infected with a specialized bug, was almost attacked by a vampire, then could have been killed by black magic riding a mortal body, turned, fucked for Balor’s pleasure—apparently. Tricked, killed, scared out of my wits, almost killed again, attacked by black magic—which, let me remind you, I didn’t know even existed until about four hours ago—almost killed yet again, and now the people who let it all happen are trying to give me lip. So, excuse me if I think you all deserve it.”
“Quin…” Amma said.
“She has a point,” I said slowly.
I had a dark sort of humour, which meant that I wanted to laugh and pat Helen on the leg, but I had to keep a straight face and remain calm and collected. She was, technically, also chastising me as Younger Council.
You mean me.
That one, I was willing to let Wraith claim.
I didn’t care what Helen said about him being a split personality. He was another being, one who I rarely spoke to or with, who would come out and hunt when Death was about.
Death was gone though, so perhaps it was time for Wraith to retire as well.
Holy shit, my Maker is dead.
The thought was my own, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I sat in stunned silence as a confusing thing came over me, sweeping through me. It was almost fear mingled with remorse, yet I was relieved all at once.
“Quin,” Helen said, setting a hand on mine. “Are you all right?”
I jerked myself out of my cloud as the events of the night caught up with me.
Not only was my Maker dead, but I had a fledgling to take care of. I couldn’t even keep a plant alive. Even those that supposedly thrived on neglect died under my care. How was I going to keep a baby vampire fed and entertained?
I was too far away from being made myself. I didn’t know what it was like for her any longer. Those blurry mornings of the first few centuries just melted together.
Some alarm went off.
I looked up at Balor, who seemed to be a source. He sighed and pulled out his phone, shutting the alarm off.
“The sun will begin to rise in a few minutes. Troy and I are going to head up to our room. Quin, I strongly suggest this day you stay in one of the guest rooms.”
Right, because something, something, sun and baby vampires.
“Younglings light on fire in the sun,” Bob said quietly in Vampire.
Right, that one.
I turned to Helen and pulled her to her feet without a word. She was too tired to even protest the action as I allowed Balor to lead us out of the room.
At the top of the stairs, he motioned to one doorway, then went the other way. I pulled Helen into the room and turned on the light.
Windows, but blackout curtains and blinds. The four-poster bed had a set of heavy curtains as well. There was a fan slowly turning overhead, to keep the air moving.
The air had always felt stale when I had awoken while younger. I wondered for a moment what caused that, but only a moment.
I took Helen to the bed and had to push her onto it. She tried to move, but her limbs were already growing heavy. There was a fear about her, so I set my hand on hers but didn’t grasp it.
Once she was asleep, she would be like the dead. If she held my hand as she fell asleep, I would be stuck there for the day, and I still had things that needed doing before I laid my head down to sleep.
“It’s all right,” I whispered. “It feels like you’re dying, but you aren’t. Just let go. You’ll wake in the evening, I promise.”
With a little sound, Helen slipped away from me, her eyes closing as she did so.
It’s over.
I slid off the bed, knelt on the floor, and began to cry in relief.
It’s finally over.
Preview of:
We sat in a diner on the outskirts of one of the many little towns that spotted Southern Ontario. Having arrived the night before, we took to a hotel where I slept the day away, and Quin had done work before joining me sometime around noon.
As it turned out, the interviewers retained none of the rights to our work. We were paid a flat fee and then quietly shuffled off to wherever we had come from in the first place. If something happened and a television show wanted to do a follow-up interview, then we’d get paid for an appearance, but not royalties.
I really shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was.
When we filed the report for the damaged tablet, we discovered the issue. The Council had had a closed-door meeting with those in charge of the interview, to which I was not privy. All I know i
s that it ended in a shouting match, threats to sue, and threats to eat the stupid mortals.
I’m guessing Quin was the one to threaten to eat stupid mortals.
In the end, they had come to an agreement. I would retain rights, per what the Council had said, and the interviewer group would take a percentage of the royalties. As long as I added one last portion, considering all else that happened.
They had provided a new tablet, which was around my neck, and Quin had gotten me a new phone. Though, the new phone could have also been so that he could maintain contact with me while in meetings. He and Balor had been learning about video chatting programs thanks to Troy. Whenever they got bored, they just dialled us up.
“Helen?” Quin asked.
“Mm?” I responded. “Oh, I know, but can I set the scene at least? The only time I seem to do it is at the start.”
“A lot was happening last time, but go ahead,” he said.
The diner was a little rundown. Older but clean, it was clearly time for a remodel, but the customers and waitress were nice enough. They kept to their own tables and didn’t question why I had a cup of coffee before me but no food.
Before Quin was a coffee in a bright white mug, the cup was new, suggesting that the needed changes in the diner were just around the corner. All the cutlery and dishes were new as well. The table the dinnerware sat on was worn, scratches across it’s shiny surface and a little chip missing on one corner. Even the cushions we sat on were well worn, but not so much that they had to be patched up.
Quin also had a cheeseburger and poutine. I had asked for a glass of water and pushed that towards him as well.
It was Quin’s first solid food in four hundred years. The salt content of that meal would have had me drinking bottles and bottles of water, and I was used to salty food. When I had pushed the glass of water towards him, he had arched an eyebrow but said nothing about it.
I miss the beard.
In the week since I had been turned, Quin had pared down, then completely shaven the beard off. His jaw was strong, nothing to hide at all, but I missed being able to run my fingers through his beard, and the disgruntled look he gave me for playing with his facial hair.
“I’m not a poodle,” he muttered from across the table.
“What?” I asked, startled because I had been writing that, not narrating.
“You’ve got that annoyed look you had when you realised I had shaved,” he said.
“Well, it is a part of the scene,” I muttered.
His words from a week before had come to mind the moment I had seen his jaw.
Lu always made him go bare.
We all mourn in our own ways. Even a victim might mourn an abuser, especially when the abuser held such a large part of their heart. So I hadn’t asked about the missing beard besides to say that I would miss playing with it.
And he hadn’t offered a reason for that. Or for anything else. It seemed that, as a baby vampire, my only purpose in life was to serve his whims and to look pretty. I didn’t need to know how he ran his businesses or stock beyond what I already knew from the interview.
That night was to be the last time we reached out. Then we would return to Maker and Progeny. During which time, yes, he used me as he pleased and I found myself with a perverse pleasure in serving him. Even when he caused me pain, because yes, that had happened.
He had started small, though, and only at that time right before I went to bed. An open-handed slap, a strike with a closed fist. We talked about it before and after.
We also talked about how, one day, I’d do something stupid and be punished for it. The idea of discipline turned my stomach. Vampiric discipline sounded more like torture than actual punishment.
I set the phone in my lap, having been permitted to write more during the night but still required to participate in everything else.
“How far away are your parents?” he asked.
I shrugged, then recalled that I had to speak ‘like a civilised person,’ and cleared my throat with a shake of my head.
“Not far, maybe ten minutes,” I said.
The conditions on which I could keep my rights to my work on the tablet had started with my going to visit my parents with Quin and telling them what had happened. Not all of it, but, you know, that one little important bit.
Then, of course, was that the interview was included in its entirety besides changing names of mortals. Those vampires involved had known going in that parts of their lives would be caught on the tablet and so had consented by speaking around me.
“Is there anything I should know about your family?” he asked.
This time my reaction was just to shrug. He frowned at me but didn’t push.
I didn’t want to talk about my family and didn’t feel particularly happy about the trip. The interview was supposed to be about Quin, not me. And while they had insisted on the format, that didn’t mean that I had to give them fodder and dredge up memories.
“We had this for the past five days,” I said, motioning to the tablet. “Why are we only going now? Should have just ripped it off like a bandage.”
“Can you still tell mortals what to do?” he asked.
“I can, but they no longer obey. You tested it before we left yesterday.”
“I’m sure Kevin is grateful that he didn’t go streaking again,” Quin murmured with just the barest of smiles.
He had so much more facial expression without the beard. That much I did enjoy. His lips gave away what he was thinking a lot of the time. With the beard, it had been hidden.
“But why did we have to wait?” I asked.
“Again, can you read minds? Pluck memories out of people’s heads? Make people like you?”
“No,” I said, understanding where he was going with the conversation.
“How about killing people with your mind?” he asked.
“Do you want the sarcastic answer or the one you are actually looking for?” I asked.
“Now I’m interested in what the sarcastic answer would be,” he said with another of those little smiles.
“My mind tells my body what to do, so clearly, yes, I can still kill people with my mind,” I said.
He chuckled and picked up the burger.
“Wait,” I said. “Are you sure you won’t... you know, throw up?”
“It’s the first meal I’ve eaten, not the first food,” he said. “I tested it while you were sleeping. I wouldn’t want to subject you to that. I’m told that I’m very whiny when sick.”
My phone chimed, and I sighed, picking it up.
“Is he sure that’s how he wants to end the second part?” I read off to Quin.
“What’s wrong with how it ended?” Quin asked.
I lowered the phone and met his brown eyes. There was a boiling anger there. He knew what they meant, but he still wanted me to say it. Perhaps to judge my reaction to it, or to take the opportunity to tell me what I should feel about it.
“The culture hasn’t ever really allowed for men to cry,” I said. “It’s a sign of weakness. Now, I’m not saying I agree with them, but they’re probably worried about losing readers because you cried like you had a heart and soul and had reached the end of a long trial.”
“Which is what it was,” he growled. “You didn’t give them the entire thing, did you?”
“No, I cut it down to where you wanted it cut to,” I responded. “No one needs to know that you forgot to shut it off and it recorded until the phone began to die and automatically shut down apps to conserve power.”
In doing so, I had to cut out a conversation between Quin and Lucrecia. I regretted that because it was difficult to express what happened in a few paragraphs.
Suffice to say, it was a heartbreaking close to yet another chapter in Quin’s life. He would, over the course of the next century, assume the title of Patriarch.
His own family, something he hadn’t had in forever.
“They want to end it when I put you to bed,” he sai
d. “Like a manly man.”
“If I receive a text, I have to read it out to you,” I said desperately.
Because he was getting angry fast and it wasn’t anything I had said or done. If the interviewers had a problem with it, they should have contacted Quin, not me. It was his chapter, after all.
“Tell them no.”
“Tell them no, or tell them not to touch it?”
“The second one,” he growled, then bit into his burger.
I sent off his words as he moaned. Startled, I looked up as he ever so slowly chewed the burger and closed his eyes.
“You people have no idea how blessed you are,” he said as he swallowed. The burger received a shake. “This thing is as good as Maker’s Blood.”
I eyed the burger, desperately wanting one myself. The smell of it alone was enough to make me salivate, but I had to swallow and keep myself clean of all real food.
Unless I wanted to vomit black sludge again.
The very thought of that made me shudder in disgust and refocus on Quin.
“Try the poutine,” I said. “Get it all in one bite. Gravy, cheese curd, fry. Just all together.”
He set down the burger, picked up his fork and did just that. Again, he moaned.
“Salt,” he said with a little bite to his lip.
How I wanted to maul him over that lip bite.
Maul? There has got to be a better way to say that.
“Food has come a long way,” I said.
“I have a whole list of things I want to try,” he said. “But I need to pace myself. Otherwise, I’ll be sick or put on weight.”
“You are familiar with the whole bowel movement situation, right?” I asked.
Because since turning it had happened one time, and that had, apparently, been my body ridding itself of the remains of my mortal life.
Okay, so maybe I was happy that we waited until I was completely immortal and had gone through certain rights of passage before taking the trip.
“Your body never forgets,” Quin said. “And I’ve never had a problem figuring out what it was that I needed. Oh, on that note, about once a year.”