“Please …” He blushed. “Oh, but would you still allow me to at least buy you the dress?”
Molly grinned. “If it pleases you.” Her thoughts wandered as she stood to collect his dishes. “I would love to see London again.” Molly paused and lay a hand on her breast. And to stay in that beautiful house, she thought.
Tom raised his eyebrows and stood behind her as she washed the dishes in the basin. “Well what’s stopping you?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her. “I promise you will see London again.”
“I know I will.” She pulled back with a smile and retrieved a dish towel to dry her hands. “A place I would much rather not see again is Barabados. Why must we go? Why not be done with Harlan?”
“I dreamed I confronted Harlan in Bridgetown, and he’s there now. And he’s the one who cursed me, and took Samuel from you.”
“I know, and I haven’t forgotten,” she admitted.
“My dreams are never wrong. They weren’t wrong about you.”
Molly didn’t argue, but she looked away sadly. She wondered if his desire to find his brother outweighed his desire to be with her. No, she scolded herself, don’t think so selfishly.
“You do not have to leave the ship. I must go ashore only for the day. I have unfinished business in Barbados. But I assure you I will finish it quickly and for all.”
“What is it you plan to do exactly?”
“I plan to pay Harlan and some of his associates a visit. Associates who were once in league with Mikael Sehović, if that was your next question.”
“Who’s Mikael Sehović?”
“Mikael was the one responsible for what happened to Samuel, Molly. He was also the first sent to kill me, by Harlan’s instructions. And not until recently did I suspect he was Christopher Barnes’s mentor.”
Molly shuddered at the name. Tom continued.
“I believe Christopher was supposed to be his successor and the Black Coat patriarch destined to spread influence to the Caribbean.”
“So he taught Christopher ways to torture and manipulate the women he graciously took in,” Molly muttered bitterly, shaking her head.
“Yes, and you had been selected by Mikael, personally, to stand at Christopher Barnes’s side as he came to power within the Society.”
“Why me?”
“You were to be a queen of sorts. Luck of the draw, I guess. You are the daughter of a powerful and respected magesmith. What power that would have given the Society—an immortal queen, doubling as an expert in the magical arts.” He made a disgusted face. Molly frowned at the floor. “Of course, they were afraid of you. That’s why you were given strong doses of nightmares. It was to keep you under control.”
“What could I possibly have been capable of to deserve such torment?” Molly fumed.
“You do not know? The possibilities are endless in the wrong hands. Your father—honorable man—chose the other path. He chose to combat the Society as well as all would-be wicked wielders of the arcane. My father did as well, as did his father before and so forth. I am going to Barbados to ensure that the Society understands they will never have you in their possession again, and that they have more reason to fear you now that you know the truth. I’m sorry if all this is upsetting, but I think you ought to know now. I didn’t tell you before because I honestly wasn’t certain that you were being held by the Society for these reasons. You could just as easily have been one of their other captives, you understand. They do not discriminate or hesitate to abuse their power. I wish I could have known sooner and told you, but I’ve had to piece together the clues I picked up in London and Barcelona first. Can you forgive me?”
“Are these the things you refused to tell me before?”
“Not all. There are important things which are to happen during my confrontation with Harlan and immediately after. Those are the things I must still withhold from you.”
“They killed Samuel.” It was all Molly could think about. For the first time since being bitten, a golden sheen appeared in her brown eyes and made them look like tiny pots of honey. “If you must go to Barbados and find Harlan, do not leave without punishing the rest as well.”
Tom gazed hard at Molly, then turned his head to look at the long blade—Brother—lying underneath his bed.
“That night Samuel was stripped of a terrible curse and freed,” said Tom. “Mikael was the one who was destroyed. I made certain of that. The Society exists in significant numbers only in Barbados and Paris now, and I intend to do what I can to ensure that Barbados is wiped clean of them. Although Christopher Barnes is no longer living, they will still choose a successor to replace him; however, without a patriarch, they have no organization. Vampires draw a vital strength and guidance from their figureheads.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“I won’t take long at all. If you go and are discovered, they will try to take you back.” His eyes darkened. “You will stay on the ship.”
“No. I can’t let them get away with what they did to me and Samuel.”
“Mikael is dead. Christopher is dead. I will dispose of the rest by myself. There is no need to risk yourself.”
“And if they change like Christopher? What will you do?” she argued.
“None of them is as strong as Christopher or Mikael. They are nothing. What I plan to do is comparable to pulling weeds. The Black Coat Society of Barbados will be nonexistent by the end of the night.”
“If it’s so simple, there’s no reason I can’t assist you.”
“If you use that mark and transform, the curse will overwhelm you. It will be difficult for me to stop you if you lose control of it.”
“I don’t need the curse to kill them,” she scoffed.
“You cannot fight them with pistols alone. What would you hope to do? Tell me. I have one sword capable of doing what’s necessary to kill and destroy a vampire, Molly.”
“They don’t seem very fond of flames or light.”
“Flames are a nuisance. Light will kill them. Do not place too much faith in that ruby. Perhaps that other one”—he nodded at the map ring—“could be of assistance, but I am afraid I cannot explain to you how or if you can control the light within it. I can’t even read the map.”
“I can. I’ve controlled it before.”
“Can you show me? If you can, I may have a change of heart. But first, demonstrate.”
Molly confidently stood and aimed her hand at the door. She thought hard. The ring would react to certain situations Tom was in. It was brightest when Tom’s life was in the most danger. She thought back to that night, and Christopher’s silver dagger inches away from Tom in the belfry. She gazed down at her ring, still maintaining its calm glow. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure how to control it at will. Tom continued to watch curiously. She looked again at the silver sword beneath the bed. “That sword is silver, yes?”
“Yes it is. Why?”
“Take it in your hands and hold it close. I need to see something.”
Tom shrugged, retrieving the blade from beneath the bed. The ship rocked unexpectedly and the blade tumbled from Tom’s grip, falling across his thigh. “Whoa!” He jumped out of its reach.
Molly gasped as the ring emitted a brief but violent flash of light.
“Gah!” Tom stumbled backward, shielding his eyes from the light. The sword clanged, rattled, and slid across the floor into a chair.
Pleased, Molly grinned in surprise.
“Well, that’s interesting,” said Tom as he rubbed his eyes.
“It happens when you’re in danger,” she explained. “If that sword upset it, I wonder what it’ll do in the presence of a few dozen demon-kin trying to bite your head off.”
Tom rolled his eyes.
“I’ve also had time to learn quite a bit about my pistols, with the help of the spell books you so graciously lent me in London,” Molly added, displaying the pearl pistols. Locking the hammers, she aimed them at Tom’s chest.
“He
y!” Tom backed up one step and held up a hand.
“Caeco et punire,” she enunciated clearly and confidently.
The chambers of the pistols blazed with white light, which traveled swiftly down the barrels as Molly pulled the triggers and the hammers clicked. Two bright balls of light blasted Tom in the chest, each evaporating in a brilliant display. Tom was pushed backward, but felt no painful physical impact. He chuckled and looked up at Molly.
“I imagine that is much more than a tickle to a vampire’s skin,” he said.
“Much more,” Molly agreed, eager to punch a few holes in the Black Coats with her father’s guns.
“Very well, I’ll allow you to come along, but do try to stay near me, yeah?”
“Yes, Captain,” she answered, folding her hands behind her back and cheerfully rocking up onto the balls of her feet.
“Accidents are unwelcome, you understand.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” she chimed.
Tom smirked. “Oh, however will I repay you?”
“Just keep a better grip on that sword when you’re actually using it.”
Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and said nothing else.
Can our dreams truly tell us what is to come? More precisely, can they show us what is yet to happen, or do they only explain why something is to happen? Do the visions of our somnolent minds pour forth from a fountainhead of truths, desires, or something else?
After learning more about Thomas’s past, I am now able to say he had an unusual trait. His mother Piroska was infatuated with magic, specifically clairvoyance and divination. She was an avid collector of sapphires for this reason. When Thomas was conceived, his mother was already practiced in the art of shaping and using seeing stones. Magic can be an imprecise art, and its collateral effects are numerous and often stranger than the intended results. I speculate that Thomas inherited a natural ability to “see” from his mother. To this day I do not think he was ever aware of the connection between his mother’s hobby, her conceiving Thomas and Thomas’s dreams.
Thomas’s unusual trait reminds me that faltering precision has produced a great number of other curious things and specifically in the case of magical imprecision. In fact, it played a great role in the origin of werewolves.
Magical practices have been in existence since the earliest chapters of man’s history. He used it to ward off foul spirits, to protect his home, to communicate with his gods and to aid him in the hunt. He also learned that magic could do much more than conjure and manipulate the basic elements. Magic, he discovered, could manipulate the body as well.
I said before that I do not expect to meet a lycanthrope, and for two reasons. One reason is that the term refers to ancient peoples who transformed into wolves by magical means, and such people do not exist any longer. The second reason, relating directly to the first, is that lupomorphs are the modern consequence of lycanthropic practices. Today, if one wishes to do what the lycanthropes did, all he or she must do is accept the werewolf curse. Lycanthropy is, in a word, archaic.
The first werewolf was born, as evidence strongly suggests, to lycanthrope parents, and what a shock it must have been, when the couple discovered their child transforming upon each full moon without magical aid. Like Thomas’s acquisition of clairvoyance due to his exposure to sapphires while in the womb, the original, true werewolves were produced by the unexpected side-effects of lycanthropic practices. Pregnant mothers, whose mothers before them were lycanthropes and so on, began to conceive children by men whose lineages were touched by the same magic, and eventually gave birth to human beings who came ready to transform from the womb, and when they transformed, the product was not purely lupine, but something new and more powerful—a perfect cross between man and wolf. It was stronger than a four-legged beast, vastly more intelligent, and frightening to its fellow men. In the new creature’s veins swam what was called a “sickness” and a “curse,” communicable to human beings, which could turn the infected into a lupomorph within three months’ time at most. The magical and biological had met one another halfway.
Werewolves inevitably identified themselves as being separate and distinct from mortals, but they developed their societies in a fashion similar to humans', living away from mortal kind, but never too far away. Hundreds of years passed, then thousands. Today werewolves have a history and a heritage as unique as any mortal culture on this earth. Most of their worldly influence has been made in the magical studies, including the development of the only known martial art based upon the strict laws of magic, called Manus Magia, or “magic hands.” Lupomorph survival is difficult, and there is no doubt that one of the key factors threatening the species is, and has always been, the existence of the vampire.
The tale of the vampire’s origin is strikingly similar to the werewolf’s, but differs in ways that, though subtle, determined the greatest differences between the two species, such as the rules dictating the passing of vampire characteristics and the permanence of the vampire “curse.” I’ll begin with the origin.
Before the appearances of the first true werewolves or vampires, there existed creatures called hemonyxes. These beings were humanoid, and their intelligence matched that of human beings, but they were not human in many respects. Their origins are unknown, but my guess is that they were a nocturnally adapted, close relative of man. Their skin was pale, their eyes dark, their bodies sturdy. Their skin held an elastic quality, their backs were winged, but featherless, of course, and they were hematophages. However, they were not repulsive, as one might assume. Rather, they were said to have been as beautiful as any human being, sometimes called “night angels” because of their wings. However, they had no notable telepathic ability, as is found in vampires, which plays a key role in the process of seducing or controlling human beings. It is relevant to note that this feature of the vampire is unique. Werewolves, in contrast, are able to attract humans using a certain natural magnetism, which seems to strengthen when the lupomorph hormone is active in the werewolf’s body. Coincidentally, Molly always described her attraction to Tom as being something she felt as though she “breathed in” when near him.
It was an unspoken law that human beings and hemonyxes never associated in close commune with one another. Neither species had ever offended the other, but neither trusted the other entirely, simply because it was clear that the species were evenly matched on the early food chain, and despite good relations, competition was unavoidable.
During a time of great expansion, somewhere in a land I can only identify as having existed near what would eventually be ancient Jerusalem, a small tribe of humans and a greater tribe of hemonyxes began to interact, as their hunting territories overlapped.
Sometime during this period a young woman referred to in vampiric texts as Liryne (Leer – in – ee) met a young hemonyx named Jas (Joss), a prince of sorts, who was the son of the eldest and most respected hemonyx of his tribe. The two developed a keen interest in each other. Liryne was dazzled at the sight of the handsome Jas; he, at the beautiful human features abundant in her. When the hemonyxes ultimately left the lands in search of less contested territory, Jas brought Liryne along with him.
The people of Liryne’s village were not quick enough to notice her absence, and after a while it was thought that she had wandered too far from her father’s home and been attacked by animals or lost her way in the forests and starved. Her loved ones mourned, and they never suspected she was still alive and pregnant by her new husband.
Liryne and Jas disappear in the folds of history, but what is interesting is that several generations after Liryne’s death, coincidentally a short time after the first werewolves appeared, hemonyxes again appeared near human settlements in the Fertile Crescent, and a young girl wandered into Liryne’s home village. Vampiric texts name her Corvessa, and she was unlike anything mortals had ever seen. She appeared to be human, being quite the sharp little girl, with fiery red hair, noticeably pale complexion, striking emerald eyes, and
a very childish carelessness about her—a beautiful girl in every sense. She was taken in by a childless family, who raised her as their daughter.
Years passed and, as the legend goes, on a dark night, nomadic thieves came to the village, looking for vulnerable women to steal. Corvessa, a stunning girl of nearly seventeen, was startled when one of the thieves snuck into her bed and quickly bound her hands, dragging her from her parents’ home and out past the village boundaries. Corvessa kicked and screamed for help. The thief, an able and very strong man, had great difficulty restraining her. She fought like a grown bear. Taking out a blade, he tried to jab her into silence, accidentally cutting the hand he held over her mouth. Upon seeing the blood, Corvessa became mad. Her eyes became tinged with pink and her jaw contracted, producing two sets of long fangs that slid over top of her human teeth and drove themselves into the thief’s palm. Terrified and paralyzed, the thief could not escape as Corvessa drained him of his blood, afterward ejecting her own in a nauseous fit.
When Corvessa’s parents woke that morning and saw that she was not asleep on her straw mat, they immediately ran outside, only to find their daughter standing a few paces from the door, shaking in fear. Her mouth was stained red, and her fangs still jutted out from behind her lips. Her parents, horrified at the inhuman girl before them, but still caring for their daughter, quickly sent her away from the village before anyone else awoke, afraid that Corvessa’s condition could cost her dearly if the others did not feel safe around her.
Like her ancestors Jas and Liryne, Corvessa vanished from history, but only temporarily. She was the first of her kind—a pure blend that granted her agelessness that surpassed any other vampire to this day. She and the first vampires after her—born of human and hemonyx parents—are the most powerful of their kind. Modern vampire traits have been recombined again and again, much like the traits of mortals, and the same is true for werewolves, which produced a less monstrous individual over time.
Corvessa’s appearance heralded the growth of the vampire population, which, in time, replaced the now extinct race of hemonyxes. It is widely held that Corvessa is the root of all modern vampire cults—a universal patron goddess of the undead. Her name leaps in and out of timelines, vanishes and reemerges here and there, leading most lorists to assume she died long ago, and her name is mere legend. But I know Corvessa did not succumb to death. Oh no, and this will not be the last time I speak of her or her legacy.
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