The Last Vampire 3
Page 13
They were demons.
Which sounded like a stupid thing to be thinking, given that I was in Hell. But they were demon demons, with the horns and the red, leathery skin and the giant freaking bat wings. I gaped at them like a half-wit.
Holy. Fuck.
SEVENTEEN
I MADE SOME KIND of ridiculous and embarrassing noise—the kind a mouse makes right before a cat pounces on it, or that a rabbit makes, right before the hawk’s talons close around it. In a sudden panic, I whirled around, expecting to find that Nigellus had transformed into childhood nightmare-fodder as well.
He hadn’t.
The guards looked at me quizzically, not making any threatening moves, and I made a concerted effort to get my shit together. They were demons. Okay. If Fae used glamour to pass as human on Earth, why the heck should they be any different?
“Sorry,” I squeaked, and cleared my throat before continuing in a more normal tone. “Wings and horns. Should’ve seen that coming. Totally didn’t. No offense intended.”
I wondered if Nigellus had failed to mention this little tidbit because he thought it would be funny to see me lose my shit, or because he assumed I wasn’t dim enough to expect demons in Hell to look human.
“Guards, this is Zorah,” Nigellus said, as though my faux pas had never happened. “She is my guest. She is also demonkin, and therefore free to come and go as she pleases.”
One of the guards nodded. “Oh, so you’re that one, eh? There’s been a lot of chatter about you the last few days. Well, you know what they say—welcome to Hell.”
I made myself hold his gaze. “Thanks. And sorry again about freaking out on you. Wings and horns are awesome. Seriously.”
The guards looked more amused than anything—fortunately for me, since I was pretty sure either one of them could squash me like a bug. I also had a feeling that Nigellus was smirking at me on the inside, even if he was too practiced at the whole suave and sophisticated routine to show it openly.
“Do I get a look at your wings while we’re here?” I asked him, genuinely curious. With the shock wearing off, I could appreciate the demons’ appearance for what it was. Wings and horns really were kind of awesome.
Nigellus quirked an eyebrow at me. “Perhaps another time. The transformation is hard on one’s tailoring.”
“I just bet.” With a deep breath, I turned back to the desolate landscape beyond the cave. “Okay, now that we’re here, where can I find my father?”
“He will be residing in the human settlement,” Nigellus said, pointing toward a collection of distant structures tucked in a valley some distance away. “Normally, I would transport us there directly. But the walk to get there is not unpleasant, and it will give you a chance to look around your other home.”
I nodded, not sure how I felt about thinking of this place as home. Regardless, it was a good suggestion, especially since I’d need to know the way back to this cave so I could test my ability to get through the gate on my own.
“Fair day to you then, Nigellus. Zorah,” said the more talkative of the two guards.
I waggled my fingers in an awkward wave. “Thanks. Um, see you around, I guess.”
Nigellus acknowledged the pair with a nod, and we started down the trail leading from the cave toward the settlement. Hell looked similar to pictures I’d seen of desert areas in the southwest, if Arizona or New Mexico had skies done in shades of red and orange. It really was a desolate place… assuming all of it looked like this part. Of course, that was a big assumption to make about an entire world, based only on what was within eyesight.
“You know,” I said, giving Nigellus a grateful look when he took my bag and slung it over his shoulder, “if you could somehow bring half of Dhuinne’s out of control plant life here, both places would be in better shape.”
“Hmm,” Nigellus said in a noncommittal tone, “You noticed the plants while you were in the Fae realm, then?”
I scoffed. “They were a bit hard to miss, yeah. It’s like nature is actively trying to take over the whole world and drag it back into the jungle.”
“So I have heard,” Nigellus offered. “It does make one wonder what happened to alter the balance.”
I shot him a glance. “You mean it wasn’t always like that?”
“Indeed not.”
I pondered that for a moment, but I had no way of knowing what might be going on behind the scenes in Dhuinne to piss off the local plant life.
“What about Hell?” I asked instead. “Was it always so desolate?”
“Always, yes.” Nigellus looked around, as though soaking in his surroundings. “Demonkind requires little in the way of either amenities or sustenance. That being said, it is true that these past few centuries, we have had a larger than normal number of mortals residing in Hell. That does tend to put a greater strain on the existing resources.”
Gravel crunched beneath my shoes. “How many humans are here, anyway?”
Nigellus lifted a shoulder. “I’m unsure of the exact number. I daresay they outnumber the demons at this point. Fae are a long-lived race, with a correspondingly low birth rate. But even so, they’ve been sending the Tithe for a couple of centuries now.”
I let the conversation lull as I thought about that. Given the circumstances of the humans’ arrival here, I really wasn’t sure what to expect. The cluster of buildings we were heading toward looked more like a rustic village than a jail, but were these people denizens of Hell, or prisoners of it?
There was only one way to find out.
Nigellus left me to my thoughts as we hiked down the slope and into the valley. I gathered he spent most of his time on Earth, and I wondered if he missed this place. The idea of being truly immortal was a hard one to take in. Even if Nigellus had spent the entirety of human civilization on Earth, it would still be only a tiny fraction of his lifespan to date.
Nope, even with a demon grandfather, I wasn’t going to be able to wrap my mostly human brain around that one anytime soon. I’d barely been able to grasp the idea of someone being born in the Middle Ages—
Aaand… now I was thinking about Rans again.
Fortunately, we’d crossed the final distance to the closest of the buildings, and were starting to attract attention. A boy of perhaps ten years of age poked his head out of one of the small huts. He had freckles and messy brown hair, his plain clothing covering him from neck to knee. His eyes were wide and blue.
“Run and find someone on the Council,” Nigellus told him. “Tell them that there is a new guest, and we will meet them at the hall.”
The child nodded and hared off without a word, bare feet slapping against the dirt road.
I gazed after him. “Who takes care of the children?” I asked. “There must be a fair number of them, if most of the tithelings are babies.”
“Demons cared for the first arrivals,” Nigellus said. “But human children grow to be human adults in scarcely the blink of an eye. And, the problems on Earth aside, I’ve found humans to be a generous species by and large. Subsequent tithelings have been adopted and cared for by those who came before.”
I nodded, but I still wasn’t sure I understood the point of continuing the Tithe from the demons’ perspective. They’d wanted Fae children, but the Fae had outmaneuvered them. Why take on the responsibility of caring for all these people?
“Are these people all demon-bound?” I asked, because that might explain things. Grow your own power source right in your backyard, where no one had to worry about the pesky treaty provisions regarding interference on Earth.
“No,” Nigellus said, surprising me. “There’s no specific rule against it, but to bind them as a matter of course always seemed… crass, I suppose you’d say. They’re already the victims of other races’ political machinations. Why add insult to injury?”
“Hmm,” I replied in a noncommittal tone, wishing I could get a better read on this whole situation.
Nigellus cut a sideways glance at me. “In case I didn
’t make it clear before, your father is welcome to live out his days here in safety. It’s a simple life—far simpler than most humans find life on Earth to be. However, not everyone considers that a bad thing.” He paused as we approached a larger structure—long and narrow with adobe walls and a tile roof. “But soon you will see for yourself, and be able to craft your own opinions.”
He gestured me inside the open door, and I gathered this was the meeting hall he’d referred to earlier. The inside was cool and shadowed, lit only by natural light from the windows, as far as I could tell. There was a table at the far end, large and rectangular with more than a dozen chairs set around it. A matronly female figure leaned hipshot against the table’s edge, her head cocked as she examined us.
Her skin was olive and her black hair was streaked with gray. She had a strong forehead and heavy eyebrows, her appearance making me think she was probably of Indian or Pakistani descent. She pushed away from the table as we approached, tipping her chin up in greeting.
“Brought us another, have you?” she asked Nigellus. “The rest of the shipment arrived more than a day ago.”
I wasn’t too keen on hearing human beings—my father among them—referred to as a shipment, but there was nothing cold or hostile in the woman’s voice. Merely curious.
“Zorah is not part of the Tithe, Fatima,” Nigellus said. “Though her father is.”
Fatima looked at me with new interest. “Is that so, child?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’d like to see him as soon as possible. Is he well?”
She regarded me, her brows drawing together. “We don’t get many coming in as adults,” she said carefully. “Being held by the Enemy is hard enough on the little ones, but minds like his—minds that are already set in their ways—they’re not designed to take the strain. The Enemy’s magic twists up the inside of their heads.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, using the self-inflicted pain to distract myself from the ache of knowing how badly Dad had been broken. When I was sure my voice would be steady, I said, “Yes. I realize he’s… not quite right, mentally. But otherwise?”
Fatima shrugged. “He’s healthy enough. Seems like someone was looking after him in… the other place.”
“Probably the cat-sidhe,” I murmured, taking note of how Fatima referred to Dhuinne and its people. “So, I take it the Fae won’t be winning any popularity contests here?”
Her expression soured. “They stole us as babes, changed us with their magic so we could never go back to our families, and then sent us here as tribute to their most hated foes. No, they are not very popular here.”
“My father went back, though,” I said. “To Earth, when he was a baby, I mean.”
Fatima tilted her head. “Did he, indeed? Must not’ve been in the Enemy’s realm for very long, in that case.” She shuddered a bit. “Poor bloke, getting hauled there twice in one lifetime. No wonder he’s given up.”
My fists clenched. “He hasn’t given up. You can’t know that. You said he’s only been here a day!”
“Zorah…” Nigellus said, even as Fatima gave me the sort of bland smile that doctors in hospitals gave the families of terminally ill patients.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, child. No doubt you’re right. Whatever the case, we look after our own, so you needn’t worry about him getting the care he requires.”
“I want to see him now,” I stated firmly.
Fatima nodded. “That’s easily arranged. In fact, if you’ll be staying, we’ll put you right in the same hut with him.” Her eyes flicked to Nigellus, as if seeking his input about my long-term plans.
“Yes, I’m staying,” I told her, ignoring both the twinge of pain at the knowledge that I’d be staying here alone, and the wave of trepidation at the idea of trying to cohabitate with my father again after all this time.
God… the man had been so desperate to get away from me that he’d moved to a different state the moment I’d turned eighteen. During the intervening eight years, we’d had direct contact perhaps half a dozen times. None of those meetings had ended particularly well.
But it didn’t matter now. He was my father, and he needed my help. Family responsibility didn’t end just because you didn’t get along with the family member in question. I tried to tell myself that this situation might end up being a blessing in disguise, as unlikely as that sounded. Maybe this was our chance to finally reconnect, twenty years after a madman with a gun tore our family apart.
Fatima gave me another smile—and this time, it looked a bit more genuine. “You’re a good daughter, Zorah. Nigellus, you want me to help her get set up here in the village?”
Nigellus cocked an eyebrow at me. “Are you comfortable with that? Fatima—or any of the other Council members—can arrange for me to be contacted should you need me. I have some business to conduct since I’m here anyway, so I will be easily available until tomorrow.”
At this point, all I really cared about was seeing Dad and getting settled in whatever place I was going to be staying. I had no desire to cling to Nigellus like he was some kind of security blanket for baby demons. And, its fearsome reputation aside—from what I’d seen of Hell so far? After surviving Dhuinne, surviving here would be a cakewalk.
“I’m fine with that,” I said. “Thank you for bringing me here, and for… offering those additional services we talked about, should I require them. I’ll let you know if I end up needing a lift back.”
Nigellus handed me my bag before executing a small bow from the shoulders, the movement practiced and elegant. “Then I will leave you in Fatima’s capable hands.”
I tried not to let my nerves get the better of me as he exchanged a brief farewell with Fatima and left us alone. She patted my shoulder and gave me a knowing look before shooing me toward the door.
“Come along, child. You’ll feel better once you’ve seen a familiar face.”
I went in the direction she herded me… but somehow, I really, really doubted that.
EIGHTEEN
THE HUT WHERE DAD was being kept was just as small and primitive looking as all the rest. The door was open, presumably to let what breeze there was come in. Children were darting in and out of the structure, some clutching simple toys of wood and straw. The bravest of the bunch skidded to a halt in front of me, looking up at me with dark brown eyes.
“Who are you?” he asked.
I supposed in a place like this, any unfamiliar adult would be cause for curiosity. New children might arrive from time to time with the Tithe, but Fatima had as much as admitted that new adults were a rarity.
“I’m Zorah,” I told him, gesturing inside the hut. “My father’s staying here. He just got here yesterday.”
“Oh,” said the boy, and ran off without another word.
Fatima gave a grandmotherly huff.
“What’s your father’s name?” she asked quietly. “As far as I know, he hasn’t given it to anyone.”
“It’s Darryl,” I said. “Darryl Bright.”
She nodded and rapped on the doorframe. “Darryl? Visitor here for you. We’re coming in!”
There was no reply, but she ushered me inside anyway. Though the surroundings could hardly have been more different than last time, I still felt a flash of déjà vu upon seeing my dad sitting in a chair, facing away as though he were completely unaware of my presence.
“Oh, Dad,” I whispered, dropping my bag near the door and crossing to look down at him.
As he had on Dhuinne, he stared right through me. Fatima hung back, giving us space, but all I could think was that I had absolutely no idea what to do now. I crouched in front of him, a hand on his knee.
“Tell me straight, Fatima,” I said, loudly enough for the older woman to hear. “Are we safe here?”
She came closer, her arms folded as she looked down at my father sadly. “Such a question, child,” she said. “Of course you’re safe here. I already told you we take care of our own. And besides—no one ever dies in Hell.”
“Okay,” I said. “Well, we’re here now, and your hospitality is greatly appreciated. Do you think you could show me around the settlement? It’s… very different than what I’m used to on Earth. And if this is going to be our new home—” At least for now, I added mentally, “—then I’d better learn my way around.”
* * *
A couple of hours later, I’d met more people than I was ever going to be able to remember on the strength of a single introduction, and I had a much better feel for my surroundings. The village, if that was even the right word, was larger than I had originally thought. The place was like a cross between an ancient bronze-age culture and a hippy eco-village. Though I gathered they’d had extensive help from Hell’s powerful natives, the level of ingenuity involved in living off such a desolate land was still impressive.
In a place with essentially no rainfall, every drop of water was precious. Every scrap of waste, both human and animal, ended up as compost added back to the barren soil so that crops could be coaxed forth to feed the modest population. I saw no evidence of dogs or cats, but chickens seemed very popular. What water there was came piped in from higher elevations in the mountains.
The thing that struck me most was how… happy everyone seemed to be. Not ‘happy’ in the sense of laughter and gaiety, as such—but ‘happy’ in the sense of being content with one’s lot and knowing one’s place in the world.
It wasn’t a feeling I had much personal experience with, to put it mildly.
After ensuring that I had everything I needed and that I knew how to get in touch with her or one of the other Council members I’d met, Fatima gave my shoulder a final pat and left me to it. And there I was… alone with Dad for the first time in years.