The Nephelium

by Nathan Parks

  Drake didn’t answer immediately. As if in deep thought, Drake began walking around the chamber, his fingers tracing the pictures etched into the wall and following the storyline that the carvings told. He didn’t understand it all, but much of it was not hard to interpret.

  “You know I have been, Arioch, but what makes you think I need you to change that? What makes you believe I need you or even that I want to be a part of this?”

  “You are mortal.”

  “So?”

  “I could take your life even now, and it would all be over for you,” Arioch hissed, then continued in a softer tone, “or you could become literally part of this clan and experience wealth and power beyond anything you could imagine.” As his words ended, his voice had risen into a crescendo as he raised his arms upward and outward in a display of arrogance.

  “How are you able to give me all of this? All I see is a club and now this underground chamber.”

  Drake’s voice was growing stronger with confidence. If he did choose what Arioch offered, he wanted to display the same qualities Arioch emanated, though in a subtler fashion. He wanted Arioch to believe he was worth Arioch’s attention. He wanted to show Arioch strength, a strength he had never felt before.

  Arioch scoffed. “Do you really think this is all there is? You mortals always see only what is in front of you, and if you can’t see it, then you don’t believe. That has always been your downfall--always!”

  “Then prove it to me.”

  Arioch shook his head in distaste. “In time--but Jah is not the only one who demands faith. If you are willing to take another step deeper into the world of the Fallen, then you will know things that most men do not, and you will become part of something that reaches back to the dawn of time and will only grow stronger.”

  The strength and confidence that Drake had felt sweeping over his body had fully taken hold now. What he could not see were the Soul Slayers that were moving into the window of his spirit that was being opened through the emotionally charged words given by Arioch. It was a dance of possession that had become the art form of the Fallen, a draining of the life’s blood. He was being possessed without even knowledge of it.

  Drake looked up at Arioch and saw before him, no longer a being to be feared, but, instead, one to be respected and followed. “I will follow you, My Lord. I have faith you will do as you have spoken. You have my allegiance and servanthood.”

  Two Soul Slayers tapped into the base of his spinal cord and unlocked the door to his conscience and took control. He was no longer just a Familiar, but he had become part of the clan as much as a living mortal could be. He was now Drake of the Clan Adremalech. His knowledge of what that entailed would come later. He didn’t need to know the full history nor would he be able to comprehend the future at this time.

  Chapter Seven

  Eve jumped as she felt a hand take hold of her shoulder, causing her to scatter papers and research articles from her lap onto the floor.

  “Settle down there, Miss Jumpy.”

  Megan laughed nervously as she set down a bag with two coffees from Alfonso’s. She had stopped into the café on her way over to Eve’s after a night of no sleep and received some liquid energy from the old man, who was now feeling a little better.

  Eve stretched as her eyes squinted at the morning sun that was now pouring into her small apartment through the blinds she had forgotten to close the night before.

  About that time she noticed Megan’s disheveled look. “You look like crap, Girl!”

  “Thanks,” Megan answered, projecting a false irritation in her voice.

  “No problem,” laughed Eve. “Was Alfonso in this morning?”

  “Yeah, and he said to tell you that his nephew, the one who is into researching, may have uncovered some more records for you.”

  “Great! Maybe I will stop by before I head to the shop.”

  Eve grabbed one of the Styrofoam cups of coffee from the bag and leaned back in her chair. She looked at the piles of research that had started taking over her life. They were everywhere. What had started as a hobby, to discover anything about her heritage, now had become an obsession. Alfonso had told her once that maybe sometimes a person needed to leave some things the way they were, but he had also seemed to be able to uncannily come up with information that she could never find.

  “So, Meg, you goin’ to tell me why you look like crap this morning or do I have to make a ‘wild’ guess about some late night boyfriend whose name is not known?”

  Megan shot Eve a fighting glance, but knew Eve meant no real harm, although she knew Eve had never condoned what she did in order to get by. Eve had seen Megan’s too many black eyes, drug marks, alcohol poisoning, and bruises all from that line of work. Eve had even offered to teach Megan how to tattoo, but she never could get away from the money that she pulled in, and even if the attention wasn’t real, at least it was attention.

  “No, it wasn’t anything like that, Eve.”

  “What? Who was it this time? Was it Arioch himself? I swear if he lays a hand on you, it will be the last thing he does. It is bad enough he has you so mentally screwed up and so wasted half the time on drugs, that if he starts beating you . . .”

  “He is my boss, Eve. He won’t . . .”

  “You mean your pimp, right?” Eve interrupted.

  “The Vortex is a reputable club, Eve. Come on, we have had this conversation.”

  “Yeah, we have, and I still see the emotional scars and the physical signs left behind from what happens because of that ‘reputable’ club, Meg.” Eve paused. “So what was it this time?”

  The horrors of the night before began to seep past Megan’s mental dam that had been blocking it out, and she could feel her body starting to shake again. Eve slowly lowered her coffee from her lips as she watched her friend begin to emotionally melt in front of her. Megan’s skin began to pale, and she began to shake as if she had become chilled by an unseen cold front.

  “Meg?”

  “It’s nothing, Eve . . . nothing, ok?”

  “No, it isn’t ok. You’re . . . you’re scared! What happened to you last night?”

  She put her coffee down on the computer desk and stood up, reaching out to her friend. Megan gave way into Eve’s arms as one who had given up all hope to live might fall into the arms of death to find eternal rest. Eve helped her sit down and knelt in front of her, taking Megan’s face in her hands, forcing her friend to look at her.

  “What is wrong with you? Were you raped? We can get you help, Megan. I am here for you. Talk to me.”

  Megan’s eyes looked into Eve’s eyes, longing to speak, longing to confide, longing to relinquish the locks to the burden that had become imprisoned within her soul.

  “You won’t believe me, Eve--you couldn’t believe me. I am not even sure if I believe myself.”

  “Then try me. I will believe you. Why wouldn’t I believe you, Meg? What is going on?”

  Megan pulled away from Eve’s hand and buried her face in her own hands, still shaking.

  “Darkness . . . darkness. Eve, they killed him. He didn’t do what they wanted, and they killed him--no, ate him!”

  Eve looked at her friend, trying to make sense of what seemed to be madness coming from her disheveled companion.

  “What do you mean? Who? Who was killed? Who killed him?”

  “I don’t know! It was one of the guys they joke about being a Familiar, like they are some kind of coven or clan or something . . . like . . .”

  “Familiars have to do with vampire mythology, Meg.”

  “Yes! Yes!” Megan came alive, pointing toward Eve as if she had just won a prize. “Vampires, Eve! They are vampires! I saw them . . . that’s it!”

  “Huh? What are you saying? Who? Meg, Sweetie, you are not making any sense! You are saying someone was pretending to be a vampire?”

  “No, Eve. Oh, no,” she looked straight into Eve’s eyes with strength that a moment before was not there. “Not pretending, Eve
; they really are vampires! I saw them!”

  *****

  Eve checked the bottles of ink to make sure that they were all properly filled and ready for a day of artwork. Jackie, the new artist at The Broken Tear had done a good job making sure everything from the night before was clean and sterile. She hadn’t left a lot for Eve to do this morning, so it allowed a lot of time for Eve to dwell on what Megan had said earlier that morning.

  She had left Megan asleep on her couch after she had collapsed from sheer exhaustion. Her words still rang in Eve’s ear, “. . . not pretending . . . they really are vampires . . ..” Eve knew that however absurd Megan’s story seemed, to Megan it was very real, and Eve had to try to make sense of it all. Maybe Megan had been drugged without knowing it and had been hallucinating, or maybe something had happened to her that caused her to block it out and create a substitute for it.

  The bell that hung on the door startled Eve out of her reverie as the first customer of the day walked in. Eve looked up at the clock and saw that Jackie wouldn’t be in for about an hour, so she better focus and see what this lady was wanting.

  The lady was a stylish-dressed Latina with perfect skin tones and long, black, shiny hair. Eve couldn’t see any visible tattoos on the lady, but maybe she was here to get her first one, and, of course, it would be something “trendy.” Why couldn’t people just appreciate the art form? One wouldn’t ask Picasso to draw for them a Garfield cartoon or Peanuts and the Gang, would they?

  Eve made her way around the glass counter that held a lot of different body jewelry and acknowledged the customer.

  “So, is this a dare, a revolt against the norm, or just checking to see what kind of small accent you may be able to put on your body?” Eve ventured.

  The lady smiled what seemed almost to be a perfect smile, and, raising her hand to her face, removed the voguish shades.

  “You know,” she said with a smooth and rich Hispanic accent, “I am not sure. Are you the artist here?”

  “Yes, and the owner. I have been inking here for about seven years. My name is Eve.”

  “Trinita,” the young lady said with almost a flare of festivity. “I am looking for something that signifies vibrancy, life, joy, and excitement.”

  “Ok. Do you want something that would represent your heritage or something more general?”

  Trinita laughed. “Like I said, I am not sure. I am sure you get a lot of people like me in here . . . searching, but not really sure what they are searching for.”

  Eve stopped for a second and looked at her. The way she put those words seemed to just catch her in a strange way, the way something catches deep inside of one’s spirit and sits there for a second, but they don’t know why.

  “Actually, many people are quite similar. I think everyone is that way at some point in time. Even the people that come in and know exactly what they want had to start off wondering, and then finally they came across exactly what they are looking for--you know, something that identifies them.”

  “Yes, I am sure you are right.”

  “I’ll tell you what. You take a look around. While you are doing that, I will sketch out a few things, and maybe we can go from there.”

  Trinita smiled that smile again that seemed to be a fiesta in and of itself and nodded. “I think that would be great. Thanks.”

  Eve left her customer to search through the numerous flash art pieces that adorned the small, but strong, studio. She sat down and pulled out a few of her favorite sketch pencils and began to draw.

  “So, are you looking for something large, small, black ink, or color?”

  “I think something with no color. I want it to be subdued, nothing really outlandish and out there,” Trinita responded.

  “Ok. So, small and with no color.”

  Trinita looked around quietly, not really paying much attention to the artwork, but instead was looking past all the décor, candles, and tools of the trade. Who is this girl that Leah would have her guard so closely? She didn’t see any sign of any Fallen present, and, just by looking at this young lady, she could tell that she was not a Believer. There were a few harmless Soul Harassers, or Imps as some called them, but that actually wasn’t that bad for a non-believer.

  Trinita refocused on the mortal realm of things just in time to catch Eve asking her another question.

  “What was that? I am sorry I didn’t catch what you asked,” Trinita said sheepishly.

  “I asked what brings you here to this city?”

  “Just here on some business.”

  “Business and you decided to get a tattoo?”

  “Yes, I know kinda strange, but call it a souvenir of sorts.”

  “So what do you do?” Eve asked as she completed the design she was working on.

  “I am in the security business. I work as a body guard or perform different security jobs.”

  Eve snatched her head up from what she was drawing. “Wow! I would have never guessed that!”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, I guess . . .” She stopped for a second and gave a soft chuckle. “I guess I just did what I hate people to do to me. I prejudged you. I looked at the way you are dressed and thought that you would be in marketing, modeling, or an agent. I never would have thought security.”

  “That’s all right. I would have never taken you as a tattoo artist.”

  Eve cocked her head with a puzzled, taken back expression on her face.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Trinita turned and looked at her with a smile.

  “I was joking--although I wonder. Let me ask you a question.” It was more of a statement, and she really didn’t give Eve a chance to object to it. “Let’s say I asked you, ‘Eve, who are you really? I mean where do you come from, why are you here, and what is your purpose?’ What would you say?”

  “Ok, so we went from complete strangers to intimate strangers in just a few moments. Umm. . .”

  Trinita saw Eve recoiling, but something else caught her attention--something Eve wouldn’t be able to see. The Guardian walked further into this thin line of a conversation to see of what she had just caught a glimpse.

  “It really is a generic question,” Trinita continued. “It could be a deep question or a generic one; it is all how one looks at it.”

  Eve went back to her drawing, but couldn’t help feeling as if this lady was unlocking something deep within her that Eve couldn’t stop. She had felt this feeling several times before, even recently. When was it?

  There it was again. Trinita took a step back, not sure whether to be bewildered, scared, or curious. She didn’t know. How could . . .? No, it had to be something else. There was no way--they were all gone, killed by the Fallen.

  “I . . . I am starting to think that maybe I am not really ready for a tattoo,” Trinita said as she tried to mask the confusion and bewilderment that she felt. “The more I look at the different artwork, I am starting to realize this is a big decision, and I am not sure I thought it through enough.”

  “Oh, ok. I have a few ideas that I think would fit you that you might like.”

  “I am sure I will be back. I just have to think about it, ok? Thanks for your help, Eve.”

  Chapter Eight

  Eve watched Trinita go with almost a sigh of relief, but, at the same time, she was left with a strange, almost longing, feeling inside. She didn’t understand it, but it was as if her soul tried to reach out to the lady as she left, wanting answers for unknown questions. She shook her head and tried to dismiss it all together.

  Just about that time, Jackie came rushing through the door with an apologetic, “I-am-sorry-I-am-late” look.

  “Eve, I am so sorry. You wouldn’t believe the morning I have had.”

  “Try me,” Eve muttered underneath her breath, but at a level where her counterpart could hear. “Hey, did you see that lady who just left outta here?”

  “No.” Jackie shook her head as she set down the few things she brought in with her and
started getting her area prepped. “There are several people out and about, though. I was in such a rush, I didn’t even notice. Sorry. Why?”

  “No reason.”

  Once outside, Trinita crossed the street. She made her way into a little antique store and found a corner where she could just stop for a moment and catch her breath. She didn’t know anything about this young lady, and as a Guardian that wasn’t the best position to be in. Not only did she not know anything about the one she was commissioned to guard, she didn’t even know why she had been assigned to her. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed. It was ringing.

  “Hey, Tri, what’s up?” a voice asked on the other end of the signal.

  “What’s up? You tell me, Leah! Who, in all the ages, do you have me guarding right now?”

  “Why? What happened?”

  Trinita hated Leah when she pulled the “I-know-more-than-you” role.

  “Don’t mess with me, Leah, or I will go straight to Nemamiah and Gabriel on this one.”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and then Leah spoke. When she did, it was with slight hesitation, but at the same time very strong.

  “Tri, I know technically Guardians are on the same level as leaders of the Alliance, but don’t forget that I would never do anything that would purposely put anyone in harm’s way. If you want to take this to the Arch Council, then do so. Right now her identity is to stay a secret.”

  Trinita took a big gamble, but she had to know if she had truly seen what she thought she had seen. She knew that if the answer was affirmative, then there would be more questions--a lot more--but they would have to wait.

  “Leah, who’s her Watcher?”

  Nothing but silence; she had been correct. She had seen what she thought. How long had it been since she had witnessed the start of a turning?