by Cindy Mezni
“And what kind of . . . wounds are necessary to . . . die when you’re . . . a monster?” he stammered.
I knew what he was up to. He really took me for an idiot. It was almost offensive.
“Try being more cunning if you want to know it,” I said before giving a curt laugh.
In response, all I got was silence. He was stubborn, no doubt about it. That’s just my luck . . .
“Let me know when you come to your senses and understand what’s in your best interest.”
I had to show patience before he became sensible and gave in with a nod. I got up and knelt down by his side. I put his hand against the wound and held it.
“I-I don’t hurt anymore,” the new Nëphyr told me, a touch of stupor and amazement in his voice.
It was the sign that the bone had found its original state and I could release it. He sat up. Positive point, his anger was gone. A good thing for me.
“Thank you,” he muttered, still unpleasant in spite of everything, moving away from me as if I was a leper and he was stupidly afraid of being contaminated.
I was going to become touchy if he kept reacting like that to me.
“You’ll have to get some little things quick if you don’t want to have problems here. Firstly, the words ‘thank you,’ ‘sorry’ and all their synonyms are banned in this place. Secondly, it’s forbidden to talk about God. Here, there’s only Hell and nothing else. And, thirdly, it’s compulsory to speak with deference to your older or higher kin and respect the rank in the hierarchy. If you remember that, it will definitely increase your chances of survival.”
He let out a brief, disdainful snort.
“I’m not planning to be long here,” he objected.
Still in suicidal mode. I all but needed this right now. I stood up and began to pace to and fro around him.
“In your place, I’d reconsider my position on the matter,” I said before changing my strategy at the last moment when I saw something on him. “I noticed the cross you wore around your neck, which means you must be religious. In your opinion, if you die now where are you going to end up? You think the one you believe in will let you go up there? You see, I have some doubts about that. The only place where you’ll go, it’s Hell. And believe me, the one here is a thousand times better than the one hiding below.”
Obviously, I’d succeeded because he stared at his necklace with anxiety. I allowed myself a satisfied smile.
“Got some doubts?” I said, a bit derisive. “I told you, here, there’s only Hell. Hell now, Hell after. Hell over and over again. Absolutely nothing else and this for all eternity. So? Still wanna die?”
A long moment of silence followed, the new Nëphyr staring at his pendant in the shape of a cross. And suddenly, he tore it away and threw it toward me. I bent down and picked it up. At the last moment, the Nëphyr caught my wrist. I looked at him questioningly. He released me after a brief moment of hesitation.
“What is it?” he questioned me as I dropped fragments of the necklace I’d just crushed to the ground.
“What?”
He pointed his index finger at my wrist where the tattoo in the shape of an elongated oval with a carved “N”—for our race—surrounded by flames inside and my name just below was.
“You’re going to have one, too. It’s our emblem and it’s a means to identify you. A bit like an ID card.”
“And why do we need it?”
“Some of your questions don’t require answers for the moment.”
“Why?”
For sure, stubborn was one of his character trait. It wouldn’t be a walk in the park everyday with him.
“You’ll get no explanation for this one either.”
He remained mute. He would understand everything when he would accept his new nature and have access to the Memorä. So it was useless to lose more time here.
“Volker!” I called out for him to get back down here.
Without doubt, they were all on the floor above and were trying to listen to everything that was happening here. The proof of that was that Volker was by my side in a flash.
“Go get Alëna so that she takes care of her Lëkenäi*. When it’ll be done, you’ll take our newcomer to his floor and explain him the functioning of this place. But first . . .” [* Identification tattoo]
I spun around to face the new Nëphyr. He was observing me, his eyebrows furrowed. He probably wasn’t understanding anything. Well, all would become clearer for him soon.
“ . . .he needs a name,” I concluded pensively.
“My name is Robert,” the person concerned intervened.
“Robert?” I repeated. “American? English?”
“French,” he answered and I held back a grimace of disgust.
The same nationality as Ezekiel. I despised everything that reminded me of him. Bad luck, Robert.
“Kämena* seems to be the obvious choice,” I said, slightly amused. [* Believer]
When he’d understand the Nëphrä, he’d probably hate me for the name I’d chosen. Well, more than he did right now I mean. Anyway, I had more important things to do than finding him a first name.
“Nek’Mënka shiëf Kellam gën Nëphyr.*” [* It’s very ironical for a Nëphyr.]
“Could anybody translate for me what he just said?”
Volker and I whirled around as one to stare at an extremely annoyed Kämena.
“You’ll understand soon. Welcome to our great family, Kämena,” I declared with a feigned enthusiasm.
Not giving him the time to retort anything, I left in order to visit Shane. And, additionally, Venom who’d run away with him. I quickly found myself in front of their cells. Xander was in the corridor and was resting against the bars of an empty cell in front of theirs.
“I have many questions, and I want answers,” I announced directly. “For starters, who helped you to escape?”
Shane was coolness personified, sitting on the ground with a serene expression. Venom, on the other hand, was not nearly as calm as her accomplice. She wasn’t anxious, but she wasn’t composed either.
“Nobody,” Venom eventually answered.
“Of course, you got out of here on your own,” I said with sarcasm. “If you don’t want to see your head separated from the rest of your body right now, you should stop this little game with me, Venom.”
“It’s the truth,” she went on, insistent. “It’s Shane who freed us.”
I glanced at him. He had no reaction, was perfectly relaxed. A disturbing contrast when I compared this Shane to the one I’d always known and had thought to be the real Shane. If I still had doubts about him being in cahoots with Ezekiel, I no longer had any now. I wondered how I didn’t see he was playing a role before today and how I’d never suspected him when his culpability was obvious. This Träditra had been the chief of security, meaning he’d been able to manipulate the cameras and tapes to delete any trace of misdeeds and those of his accomplices who had attacked the Reserve. By Satan, I’d have to be more wary and, above all, more selective when it came to the Nëphyr I put in key positions.
“How did you do that?” I asked him.
Shane didn’t answer. It annoyed me to no end, but I kept calm. Maybe Venom could bring me some answers before I found a way to squeeze the information I wanted out of Shane.
“Why are you the only ones to be still alive? And why did you agree to be taken back here?”
“Once again, Shane is responsible. Without pronouncing a word, he did something to the other Nëphyr of the surveillance and they stayed in the house while we cleared off.”
I snorted disdainfully.
“And why did he keep you?” I questioned he, not understanding why he would have preferred to keep her rather than his henchmen.
“I have no idea . . . Anyway, to answer your previous question, it’s I who brought him back here.”
“You?” I said, condescending in spite of myself.
I was doubtful. Between Shane, trained by Ezekiel and possessing
one or several powers apparently, and Venom, without gift or particular talent for combat, I’d bet on him without an ounce of hesitation.
“Yes, me,” she said, stressing these two words. “You’re not the only one around here to keep a trump card by hiding your gift. By the way, Shane did the same thing, too.”
She taught me nothing, except for what she just said about her. So, she had a power. A surprise given how incapable she was.
“And why did you come back with him, knowing what awaited you here?”
I had a hard time believing she could be that stupid and come back to this residence when her execution was fixed and she had had the opportunity to run far away. Unless she’d thought she could redeem herself by bringing Shane back to the house . . .
“You think I’m going to pardon you?” I said, surprised by the revelation I’d just had.
My reaction had to be everything but the one she’d expected because her face twisted into a scowl.
“And why not? I brought Shane back. Ezekiel trapped me with the blood slave. I couldn’t suspect what he was planning. It’s not my fault. I shouldn’t be executed for that.”
She paused, probably to allow me to say something.
“The Ameïan clan is my clan,” she said upon seeing I wasn’t reacting, obviously wanting at all costs to convince me to spare her life. “I always act in its interest and you know it, Nemesis.”
“In its interest, that’s easy to say,” Xander muttered under his breath, his tone clearly jeering.
Venom glared at him.
“Keep your stupid reflections to yourself, you slashed face,” she spat out with contempt.
She hastily put herself together and looked at me again.
“You can’t execute me, Nemesis!” she said a few moments later, becoming melodramatic. “I came back and I brought him back to you because—”
“Oh, please, somebody silence this whiner,” Shane interrupted her, his intonations totally different than those I was used to.
I observed him for a long time before speaking.
“She’ll keep quiet when you start to speak.”
Shane snickered.
“You think you’re capable of getting any information from me by blackmail or torture? If you believe that, you’re wrong.”
And if I hadn’t been already convinced of it, the self-confidence he was showing would have finished persuading me I could indeed get nothing from him.
“By the way, dearest Queen,” he said arrogantly and scornfully, “I have something to tell you anyway. Venom didn’t do anything. I let this incompetent bring me back here.” Venom seemed to be ready to speak, but Shane continued without caring about her. “If I’d wanted to, I’d already be in another country now. But I didn’t want to. And neither did Ezekiel. You know why? Because he wanted me to deliver you a last message.”
A mixture of impatience and reluctance seized me. I wanted to know what it was while dreading what was about to follow.
“What is it?” I eventually inquired.
“You’re surrounded by traitors and, unfortunately for you, you’ll never manage to find all of them, to make the link between them. You’re losing one by one the rare allies you have. The end is in sight and you don’t even realize you’ve already lost.”
He looked at me, his features full of disdain and self-satisfaction. He even had a semblance of a smile.
It was like a light bulb suddenly went on in my head.
“The link, huh?” I said to him, a pleased smirk appearing on my face.
He frowned in incomprehension and surprise in front of my sudden mood swing.
“Your arrival, Shane,” I explained to him and I savored the moment when I saw he’d understood that I’d discovered everything.
I didn’t need to develop more. He got that I’d found the link—him—connecting all the traitors of Ezekiel. This famous day when we discovered a barely transformed Shane, roaming and starving, near the fence of New Hell as if by chance. At least it was what I’d been told by Logan, Peter, Maya, Zane, Dekiën, Sam and Malek, the Nëphyr who’d supposedly found him. Logan, Sam, Malek and Dekiën were dead but the three other traitors were still alive, coming and going freely under my own roof. It was time to remedy that.
“Xander, free Venom,” I announced with calm, still staring at Shane with a smile on my face. “But first, take your machete out because you’re going to execute the worst kind of Träditra. And you’re going to begin with Shane. Now.”
16
Ultimatum
“Nemesis,” Xander yelled when he caught sight of me.
He came to meet me while I walked down the hall, having desperately been looking for Drake for a few hours. I knew his habit of appearing and disappearing, but damn, I had to talk to him. Xander found himself in front of me and stared at me gravely.
“What happened?” I sighed.
Given his expression, I easily guessed his announcement wouldn’t be good. I forgot on the spot Drake and why I wanted to see him.
“The Trackers. They’re here.”
It was like receiving a monumental slap in the face. I gritted my teeth. That was all I needed! As soon as I was finally done with one problem, namely the allies of Ezekiel, another concern appeared out of nowhere. And that one was considerable and of ill omen.
“Why did they come?”
“I don’t know,” he said in a tense voice. “As soon as I saw them, I came to warn you.”
It smelled like trouble for me but it wasn’t as if I didn’t expect to see them turning up sooner or later. And well, they didn’t come with the High Instances. It was something at least.
“Lead me to them,” I ordered him, setting off.
Xander nodded and hit the road. I followed him, numerous interrogations swirling in my mind. I wondered what the Trackers knew about the situation of the clan and also why they were showing up now. I would know soon. They didn’t come for my execution or to do some cleaning, anyway, or the seven High Executives of the High Instances would have accompanied them.
In spite of myself, I remembered the first time I’d seen them. It was after Efflamm had told Néfrat, one of the members of the High Instances, about me and he’d found my gifts extremely interesting. Because of it, the Trackers had come to pick me up here, in New Hell, and had “asked” me to follow them. They’d taken me to Néfrat who temporarily lived in a city nearby, instead of Nëphratia, the kingdom of the High Instances. Nëphratia was based in Ethiopia, near the Dallol volcano in the Danakil desert, and also called the Hell on Earth, and rightly so. Néfrat had wanted me to do some small demonstrations as well as several fights with him when he’d discovered my appearance wasn’t unattractive. The legend surrounding Néfrat might say he had millennia of existence, but this guy was just an old pervert. Not that he was physically repulsive—even if the fact that this body had been on earth for more than a thousand years repelled me—but the way he stared at you had something particularly disgusting to it. Not to mention the “accidental” touching and his “very subtle” allusions . . . Of course, because he had all the power, you had nothing to say on his behavior, even if it didn’t please you. I who’d always believed that, after some centuries, we quietened down, my meeting with Néfrat had proved me it was quite the opposite. Luckily, our former King Efflamm had interrupted the unique moment when things had gone wrong between Néfrat and I by turning up unexpectedly. Efflamm had pretended there were problems in New Hell requiring my presence and we’d left together. In fact, there had been no urgency and Efflamm had simply intervened because he knew what Néfrat had in mind and he wanted to protect me from him. Additionally, he also wanted to avoid Ezekiel getting mad if he learned that Néfrat took an interest in me.
In the beginning, Efflamm was far from appreciating me—and I understood why now, thanks to Nathanael’s confidence about his intervention when Ezekiel had been beating me for the umpteenth time in this damn cell in the basement. But, despite that, Efflamm had quickly become a
ttached to me, in a way, just like his Parinrä, our former Queen Mischa. And I eventually got to know why.
When they were humans, the two were already a couple. Or, more exactly, a family with their daughter Catherine. But she had died from a pneumonia, while she was barely sixteen years old. After this tragedy, Efflamm, named Charles at that time, had gone to infamous bars to drown his sorrows in booze. And one night, when he’d come out of one of these disreputable places, he had an unpleasant encounter and had become Nëphyr. By pure egoism, he’d come back home a few weeks later, where his wife Mischa had been moping on the loss of her loved ones and had transformed her.
More than a century later, Ezekiel had brought me to Efflamm and Mischa. And these two, especially Mischa, had found in my features their forever gone daughter. Their “little angel” as they nicknamed her according to Mischa. If there was any physical resemblance between their daughter and I, the comparison stopped there. Because while their offspring had certainly been angelic, I’d been demonic, monstrous. But in spite of the errors I’d committed and, even if I should have been executed for years, Efflamm had always made sure nothing happened to me. Thanks to the strange fascination he had for me—because of my gifts, my resemblance to his daughter or even both—or thanks to the attachment Mischa had for me, I didn’t know. Still, it was undoubtedly what had encouraged him to appoint me as the heiress of his throne if he had to die one day.
Satan knew how much I would have preferred for him never to do that.
“I definitely understand Néfrat,” I heard someone said.
It was impossible for me to not recognize the owner of this voice.
“Power suits you. You are even more ravishing than when I last saw you.”
I turned around to face the Trackers, accompanied by Caine, who finally had found Xander and me instead of us finding them. I slowly approached the group, noting that some other Nëphyr followed closely. The arrival of such important figures of the Nëphyrian world always attract many onlookers in a clan. You had to recognize they knew how to get themselves noticed with their military uniforms, which were black and red, the red color being used for the flame patterns on the sleeves and pants of the clothing as well as for the Nëphyrian emblem on their back.