by Shadow Soft
Vales resumed her businessy tone; her fingers went up again, one by one. “Diving, improvisation, t’ai chi, karaoke, shopping, cooking, and painting on canvas.”
Well, one thing was sure—other than the fact that I would make a terrible blunder of the karaoke; it happened every time. Vales and I would be far from bored these next couple weeks. And if this is all that’s planned for two weeks, I wonder what the rest of the summer holds? Is it possible to run out of things to learn? It was a silly thought, of course. There was always more to be learned. Of all I had learned in life, that was perhaps the most enormous of my lessons. No matter how much you know, the greatest wisdom is in understanding that you don’t know anything at all.
I slid my plate away from me on the table and folded my arms across my chest. “Victor?”
Vales’ father looked at me over a spoonful of soup. “I must say, Valx, you’ve never finished your dinner that fast.”
It was true. I’d hardly eaten, either. My stomach was doing somersaults, and my throat was tight with eagerness to hear the news. “I can’t wait any longer, Victor!” I protested. The words came out as a gasp. I felt the impatience bleeding from my eyes, from the deep crease of my brow, from my tense, anxious posture in my seat.
Victor swallowed and glanced at his wife and daughter.
It hit me—Blake was missing. “Where’s Blake?” I burst, panic flaring through me. I can’t delay finding out for this! No! Blake! Where are you?
“There was an alert he had to go check on, honey,” Valerie said in a soothing voice.
Her attempt at pacification was lost on me. “But—!”
“Blake was with me when we arrived at the conclusions,” Victor interrupted. He gave me a meaningful look, a vague smile playing around his lips. “I suppose, since it’s so urgent, we can go on without him.”
I sagged back into my seat, overwhelmed with relief. I was certain by now: if I had to wait another hour I would go into cardiac arrest. “Tell me, then!”
Victor folded his hands and cleared his throat. I could feel solemnity draw over our little table, a palpable shroud that caught us up in its embrace. My heart rate quickened. Quickened. Quickened. When I didn’t think it could quicken anymore, it managed just a little, until I could hear the blood pulsing in my ears. Tell me . . . . tell me . . . . tell me!
“First of all,” Victor said, “you should know that Valerie and Valeska already know the results.”
My excitement flickered. A part of me deep inside, the rawly human part of me that wanted to know I was cherished and loved as much or more than those around me, crumpled to its knees. Why hadn’t I been important enough to tell first? Why Valerie and Valeska before me? Didn’t I have the right . . . . “But . . . . Vales was with me before dinner . . . .” The words were feeble and I knew it. They were the glimmer off the surface of the hurt I felt inside. They did not begin to plumb its lurking depths.
“Valx, darling,” Valerie said gently, “we’ve known for a week.”
Known what for a week? a voice inside me churned out. But I knew. Inside I knew, and my confusion multiplied into something convoluted and gutting. “You’ve known . . . . for a week,” I said palely. “And you didn’t tell me?” Then I realized the second layer, and it was with a looming sense of betrayal that I turned to Vales. “Did you . . . .”
She was looking down at the tabletop. One of her fingernails traced a desultory grain of wood as it whorled in front of her.
“You knew, too,” I said hollowly. Vales. Not Vales, too. Please . . . . I trust you. Don’t you trust me too? Don’t you tell me everything . . . ? Apparently not. “You knew and you didn’t tell me.” My chest ached with the pain of it.
Vales kept her eyes low, unable to bring herself to look at me. I realized suddenly why her reaction had seemed so odd when I had told her the news that afternoon. She already knew! That’s why she wasn’t surprised, why she looked away . . . . Following close upon the tails of the first, another thought stole its way into my head. Why would Vales not tell me something? Only if her parents had commanded her not to. Only if they had forced her to keep quiet . . . . My head swiveled back to Victor, anger kindling in my eyes. It was him who had done it. Him who had told Vales to keep a secret from me.
“Valx,” Victor said with calm austerity, “I know what you’re thinking. But calm down—let me explain.”
Part of me wanted to leap from my seat, shatter my plate on the floor, and storm out the door. I was certainly angry enough to. But the more rational quadrant of my brain kept me pinned to my seat—stiffly, yes, and glaring—but at the dinner table, and that was what mattered. If I left now I would be missing my chance to hear what would chance my life irrevocably. Even if they should have told me a week ago . . . . well, now was better than tomorrow. “Go on,” I rasped, unable to conjure even a modicum of respect in my voice.
“Thank you.” Victor cleared his throat again and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table in front of him. “You know, Valx, the issue with vampires and blood type X.”
“They can smell it,” I said tartly. “So they know where I am.”
Victor waved his hand. “Yes, yes, and that’s why you take your medication, to stifle the scent of your blood.”
I nodded.
“The more research I do, however, the more I learn that no drug can effectively suppress the scent of blood type X.”
My heart dropped. It kept dropping as Victor continued.
“Your body processes the drug far too fast for its potency to avail you. According to my calculations, you should have to take twenty pills every hour—and even then, if a vampire should come within a meter of you, he would identify you instantly. Which means––”
I nodded, eyes averted. “I cannot move at the risk of being identified.”
“Moreover, there is a second problem. This one isn’t new, but bears reiteration. Your power of instant regeneration ensures that you will be noticed in the real world. Sure, you it might be a month, or a year, or five; but eventually you will be cut, or scraped, or bruised, and someone will see your body heal instantly. In less than a second who you are will be revealed.”
“But . . . .” I hesitated. Today didn’t seem like a day for auspicious answers. After momentary deliberation, I decided I had to ask it. “You’ve been searching for a drug to slow the healing process . . . .”
“I have been searching, yes.” Victor hesitated himself before adding, “Unsuccessfully.”
Can it get any worse? He’s accomplished nothing!
“That, I admit, is the largest complication. In order to slow the healing process, it would be necessary for the immune system supported by your blood to be completely neutralized. Not only that—the neutralization would have to penetrate all the way to the bone marrow that produces the particles constituting production of your blood.”
My mouth was dry, but I couldn’t bring myself to reach out and lift the glass of water in front of me. If I was learning anything, it was that the problems I faced were more complicated and daunting than I had ever realized before. What’s the point of real-world simulations anymore? I’m never going to be able to use all the things they’re teaching me. It’s all useless. It’s all—
“Unfortunately,” Victor concluded, “I am reasonably confident there is no way to neutralize your blood and make you an ordinary human.”
“So there is no solution,” I said bitterly. At first I was sure the words were just in my thoughts. It wasn’t until I saw the faces around me darken that I realized I had spoken out loud. Without any reason not to, I went on: “There’s no hope, then. We’re at a dead end. All these years’ efforts have been for nothing.”
Vales’ eyes glittered, and she covered her mouth with a hand. Tears? But no—there was a spark in them, a glimmer of—hope? I frowned, my gaze shifting from Vales’ face to her mother’s. Valerie wore the beginnings of a smile. “What?” I demanded, turning to Victor.
The disappointment fell f
rom his eyes like scales. “I haven’t yet told you the solution I did find, Valx.”
My breath caught.
“See, I may not be able to change you into a normal person, but I can make you normal in a different way.” He lifted two small boxes from beneath the level of the tabletop and positioned them between him and me.
Normal in a . . . . different way? I stared at the boxes, my thoughts suddenly churning at the speed of molasses. A different way? What . . . ? I glanced up at Vales. She sank back in her chair, half-smiling. But there was a shadow across her eyes, an uncertainty. Suspicion curled inside of me, tight and deep-down beneath my muffled excitement. “How can I be normal if we can’t fix my blood?” I asked, as it seemed the obvious thing.
Victor smiled sharply at me. His eyes held none of Vales’ reservation. “Valx,” he said with quiet significance, “I think you know what I mean.”
I thought I did, too. “Tell me, Victor. I want to hear you say it.”
He opened his mouth, then appeared to consider how his words would sound audible on the air, and had to wet the inside of his mouth before saying, slowly, “With my research, Valx, I can turn you into a vampire.”
My eyes flashed. “Impossible!”
“Hm?” He seemed taken aback by the vehemence of my reaction. “I’ve done all the calculations and tests, Valx, and––”
“It’s impossible for two reasons.” I slammed my hand emphatically on the tabletop. “One, a vampire already tried, and failed; I stayed the same. Two, I will not willingly turn myself into one of the very same ones who hunt me as a source of power! Never! Do you hear me? Never!”
Bang! Vales leapt to her feet, knocking her chair savagely against the wall behind her. The shadow had passed from her eyes, replaced by a smoldering fire—now her parents looked concerned instead. “Valx,” she blurted, words trembling with emotion, “humans are not better than vampires! You of all people should know this! It was humans who experimented on you—tortured you! How can you call vampires the enemy!”
“Vales,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, “I want to be a good person, just like you. I won’t be one of them!”
“There are good vampires, Valx! They’re on your side!”
“Ah, yes! The FLX!” My tone turned bitterly sarcastic. “My friendly vampire pals who just want to help me out as best they can . . . .” I trailed off, expression going blank as my instinct registered something strangely defensive in Vales’ tone and posture. “Vale––”
The door slammed open and Blake swept in, sweating and out of breath. “They’re here!” he gasped, collapsing into the empty chair at the table. “They’re coming!”
I regarded him wide-eyed. “. . . . Who?”
Blake looked up at me, mopping sweat from his face with the back of one sleeve. “LVD, Valxy.”
But how did they find me? How do they know which village I’m in? I turned, sweating myself now, to Victor. “Plan?”
Victor flurried into action. Tossing one of the two boxes in front of him to Blake, he instructed, “Take this, Blake. Go with Valeska and Valx through the emergency tunnel, to the meeting point. Wait there an hour. If we don’t arrive by them, proceed as planned. If we escape we’ll join you as soon as possible.”
“Emergency tunnel?” My head swiveled between Victor and Valerie.
“You heard him!” Valerie chirped, motioning Vales and me out of our seats. “Move!”
I struggled as Victor pulled me from my seat. “You’re not coming with us? Wait—!”
“No time, Valxy.” Blake took my arm and steered me into the hallway. “Hurry up, Vales!”
I was worried for Victor and Valerie, but I was more worried about getting caught by the LVD. In the three years I had lived with Vales’ family we had always managed to keep one step ahead of the vampires. By changing locations often and keeping undercover we hadn’t let them catch my scent. So how this time? Did we not move quickly enough?
Anxiety spinning through my head, I stumbled down to the basement after Blake, Valeska behind me. Blake flipped a switch and the sound of escaping gas filled the room. Looking up, I saw pink gas leaking from the ventilation shafts running along the top of the walls.
“Blake . . . ?”
“Emergency camouflage protocol,” he said chipperly. “In case of invasion.”
“Camouflage protocol?”
“Father and I whisked together a camouflage scent using a synthesis of your blood. Essentially, it scatters the scent of blood type X across a wide area, making it harder for them to locate you.” He winked. “They’ll think there’s two dozen of you, if it works right. Less chance they’ll come after the actual one.” He prodded my chest with a finger.
They really are ready for every eventuality, I marveled. And I haven’t even been aware . . . . I suddenly felt abashed for having questioned their love for me earlier.
There was little time for thinking, though. Blake led us down one of the basement corridors that comprise the location of many of my tests and simulations. It was mostly dark. We turned an abrupt corner and found ourselves in a dead end.
“We went the wrong––!”
“No, Valx,” Vales shushed me, “it’s the right way.”
Another thing you know about that I don’t.
“Watch Blake.”
Obediently, I turned my eyes to what her brother was doing in the dimness. He had his right hand against the wall and seemed to be prodding, feeling it over for something. Inch by inch his fingers crept across its surface. After a number of seconds he seemed to find what he was looking for; his brow furrowed and he dug his fingers into a chink I could hardly make out in the dimness. Abruptly a seam of light appeared above his hand.
Blake stepped back and the wall began to rumble—a deep-down, earthy rumble that reminded me of rocks grinding together somewhere far within a mountain’s core. As I watched in astonishment a panel of the wall slid to one side, opening a doorway some three feet across. Pure white light spilled through the doorway, illuminating the three of us where we stood. Blinking as my eyes adjusted to the unexpected brilliance, I gaped at what lay on the other side of the doorway: a long, well-lit corridor running straight away from us.
“Come on, you two!” Blake urged, prodding us through the doorway. “Let’s go, let’s go!”
Remembering suddenly the vampires on our tail—I had forgotten momentarily in surprise at finding a secret door and hidden passageway in my basement—I hurried into the corridor, Vales by my side. Blake scurried in after us, pausing only to press his fingers into a depression in the wall. The concealed door rumbled shut as we trotted down the corridor, vague reflections of ourselves mirrored on the polished floor.
We didn’t talk as we ran; the only sound was the ragged excitement of our breathing. Even with the vampires after me, I couldn’t keep thoughts of Victor’s revelation in the kitchen out of my head.
So I couldn’t be normal. It was final. There was no question anymore. For three years I had hoped and Victor had searched, tested, studied . . . . And it was all for nothing. We ran for three years, only to find ourselves at a dead end. The realization was helplessly desolate.
I had hoped. I had hoped so hard. For three years I had been so certain, with the teeth-clenched, reckless certainty of youth, that we would find a way. I had trusted Victor’s genius and the generosity of nature. There couldn’t be a question with no answer. There couldn’t be a disease with no cure. I had refused to believe it.
But here I was, at the end of it, standing bathed in the radiance of stark truth.
There was no answer.
There was no cure.
And somehow I was the victim. Somehow . . . . It’s strange, how in life we always weep at tragedy, when it happens to someone else. We weep and lament and console them as best we can. But when it happens to us—when it happens to us we’re too shocked to cry or wail. Because tragedy is one of those realities of life that are only ever real for other people. Until the day it be
comes real for you.
Today was that day for me. The day in which I realized I was bound—doomed—to walk the course of my life a slave to my superpower. I meddle in irony; you know, you all do, that it isn’t really a superpower. It’s a mutation; I get it. But so many think of it as a superpower. To be able to heal yourself instantaneously? To have cells so potently regenerative you cannot be killed? Most would think it a blessing. Even you do, I’m sure, if you bother admitting it to yourself.
But let me tell you something about the way of the world. Our blessing becomes our curse, our power the blight we cannot escape. See, if there is something you cannot change, that thing has power over you. Even if you own this thing, even if it is yours to manipulate—if you cannot change it, it becomes your shackles. So whether we like it or not, we are slaves to our own power.
Don’t think, in the course of everyday life, that I wasn’t grateful for blood type X. I was. When I cut myself helping Valerie in the kitchen, the pain lasted only a couple seconds. When I fell out of a tree my broken arm healed in a dozen. When I sparred with Blake I hardly felt my bruises.
But if I could sell my power in exchange for a normal life, I would make the trade any day. People think normalcy is boring. They’re wrong. Normalcy is what we all strive for. The confusion comes when people mistake normalcy for stability. Not everyone wants to live a stable, predictable life, and that’s perfectly understandable. Excitement is . . . . well, exciting. But normalcy—to be able to set for yourself what you want your life to be, to be able to choose your own path.
This is bliss. This is what you have that I never did.
Running down that hallway with Blake ahead and Vales at my side, I assimilated into my system the new codes that ran the program of my life. The new curses I had to live with.
Well, that’s not the most accurate way to phrase it. The curses weren’t new. The knowledge that I would have to live with them forever were.
I was condemned to flee for the rest of my life. Today would happen a hundred, maybe a thousand times more before I died. I would never enjoy the luxury of peace of mind. I would never be able to fall in love and raise a family—something everyone else took for granted. I was a fugitive from all of humanity.