Attempted Vampirism

by L. G. Estrella

  Aria’s eye twitched again. Jonathan debated telling her to see a healer about it. One of his instructors when he’d been a youth had suffered a stroke, and similar eye twitching had preceded the unfortunate incident. “Would you believe me if I said he was also on my team?”

  If Jonathan had any lingering doubts about Aria’s words, they were removed when the bear and the merman performed a flawless combination attack, the bear hurling an ornery rock golem at the merman who smashed the creatures to pieces with a perfectly timed clothesline. The combination was performed so smoothly that some of the serving maids, who were watching from behind the bar, stood up and clapped. Jonathan’s jaw dropped, and he found himself clapping as well. How many people could honestly say they’d seen a bear and a merman fighting together?

  “Who else is on your team?” Jonathan asked. He laughed nervously. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a werewolf on it, do you?”

  “As a matter of fact…” Aria pointed to where a pair of werewolves was smashing through furniture as they grappled with one another. The wounds they inflicted could easily have killed a human several times over, but werewolves were notorious for their healing and regeneration. Unless one of them used magic, silver, or landed a truly deadly blow – like decapitation – they were unlikely to do any real lasting damage to each other. The same could not be said of the furniture around them.

  “You have a very interesting team,” Jonathan said, speaking as diplomatically as he could. He looked to Miles for some advice, but the butler was busy dealing with brawlers, so they wouldn’t be dragged into the fight. Jonathan frowned. Maybe he should make a run for it. He didn’t know a lot about adventuring, but a team made up of a former paladin, an oddly intelligent bear, a merman who was more than a hundred miles from the ocean, and a werewolf could not be normal. Then again, he no longer had the luxury of normal. His castle wasn’t going to get itself back, and the first job was always the hardest to get, or so he’d been told. After all, he’d never had to work for a living before.

  “This is taking too long.” Aria used one boot to flick a broken chair leg up into her hand. “I might as well help out.”

  One of the more inebriated brawlers took a long look at her before trying to kick her in the back. Jonathan shouted a warning, but the former paladin had already turned and cracked him over the head with the chair leg. He went down with a groan. Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief. Even if the drunk had managed to hit her, he wouldn’t have done much damage. Aria was dressed for adventure in clothing that was both practical and protective. He’d heard of far too many adventurers who dressed to complement their looks, and he’d always wondered why they did it. If he had to fight for his life on a regular basis, then he would definitely go for protective attire. Being a bare-chested warrior or a scantily clad sorceress might look impressive, but it was not very helpful against being stabbed.

  “Don’t worry,” Aria assured him, twirling the chair leg confidently. “This won’t take long.”

  Despite not being especially tall – Aria was perhaps a shade over five and a half feet tall, with the build someone would expect given she used a sword and buckler and not a great shield and a battle-axe – she was very, very handy with a chair leg. Swift, precise blows downed several opponents in shorter order, and the crowd of brawlers was finally thin enough for the owner of the tavern to unleash a blinding burst of light that had most of them rolling around on the ground as they clutched at their eyes. Jonathan wondered what spell that was. It wasn’t a word like [Radiance]. Most likely it was a generic spell to create light with enough power poured into it to make it dangerous.

  “Sir, are you sure about this?” Miles asked as Aria went around to check on the wounded. Whenever she found someone who was in real danger of permanent injury or death, she used a combination of generic healing magic and Words like [Restore] to heal them. The tavern owner nodded in approval and surreptitiously handed her a small pouch. Bumps and bruises were fine, but deaths were bad for business.

  “Not particularly, Miles.” Jonathan grimaced as he caught sight of someone with a gnarly gash on his forehead. Not only did his blood smell foul but also the gash was gruesome to look at. He’d probably consumed at least a few of the nastier concoctions available from the less scrupulous alchemists and apothecaries in town. “But Aria has a point. We can help each other. She can earn a lot of money with my help, and I can get a cut of the profits.” He sighed. “Even if this isn’t something we do a lot, we can use the money we earn through her team to help us get work elsewhere else.” He gestured at his clothing and boots. “At the very least, I ought to be able to put up a better showing next time I ask for a job.” He caught the flash of guilt in Miles’s eyes and shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault. You did the best you could. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be wandering around in a dressing gown and bunny slippers.”

  Miles’s lips curved up into a small smile. “You would look a tad ridiculous, sir. The fight is over now, so you should order some blood. You haven’t had any to drink this evening, and I could use something to eat as well.”

  “Yes, I think we could both use a meal after the day we’ve had.” Jonathan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I wonder if they stock fresh virgin’s blood here.”

  Miles eyed the ruined dining area sceptically. The remains of a rock golem were imbedded in one of the walls. “Unlikely, sir, although it can’t hurt to ask.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Jonathan and Miles were back in the room where they’d first met Aria. It wasn’t the largest room, so it was currently a bit cramped due to the presence of her whole team. The bear gave off an air of amusement as it settled down in one corner. There were small ripples in the air around it, and Jonathan frowned. Was that magic? He’d have to ask about it later since bears weren’t known for possessing magic. The merman had taken a seat for himself, and Jonathan was wondering how long it would last before it broke under his weight. Up close, the merman was even more imposing. His muscles rippled and bulged with every movement, and the trident he leaned against the back of his chair looked heavy enough that even Jonathan would have struggled to lift it. As for the werewolf, he was now in his human form and mostly clothed, and he grinned before kicking out one of the legs of the merman’s chair. However, the merman merely smirked and remained seated – he’d propped himself up with his trident. The werewolf bit back a curse and threw some coins to the bear. The distortions around the bear solidified into little shadowy creatures that caught the coins before vanishing.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Aria chided the werewolf. “That was never going to work. You try it at least once a week.”

  The merman’s deep, booming laugh shook the room as Aria used [Restore] to fix the chair. “You’re becoming predictable, my friend. Better luck next time.”

  The show of camaraderie was certainly welcome. Jonathan was glad to know that the team at least got along with each other, but before he agreed to anything further, he needed to know more. “So…?”

  “Ah, right.” Aria trailed off, as did Jonathan. He was still nursing his mug of blood. It wasn’t virgin, but it was warm and fresh. Miles was enjoying some well-watered wine and a sandwich.

  The butler must have sensed his discomfort – Jonathan was not, by any stretch of the description a socially adept vampire – so he gracefully interceded. “Allow me to introduce my master, Lord Jonathan Charles Bloodhaven, the 32nd Lord of Bloodhaven.”

  The werewolf raised one eyebrow. Like many of his fellows, there was a sort of wildness about him, even in his human form. Jonathan’s keen sense of smell could pick out scents associated with the roads and forests around Bloodmark. It didn’t help that the werewolf’s brown hair was unkempt and longer than was polite or that he had several days of stubble on his chin. Nevertheless, his steel grey eyes held the keenness of a hunter, and he spoke with the easy confidence of someone used to addressing his betters and not giving a damn about their
titles. “There have been thirty-two of you? The last time I bothered to check, there had only been thirty.”

  Jonathan studied the werewolf. How old was he? It was hard to say. Like vampires, they could live incredibly long if they weren’t killed in battle. However, he’d attuned himself to the way older vampires felt. He hadn’t met enough werewolves to do the same for them. “You must be thinking of my father and grandfather.” He grimaced. “It wasn’t pleasant, but neither of them are in charge of my House any longer – or still alive, for that matter.”

  The werewolf grinned toothily. “Is that a polite way of saying they pissed off the wrong people and died in a ditch somewhere?”

  Jonathan scowled. He would have been more offended if it hadn’t been so close to the truth. Even so, it was embarrassing to have someone point it out so bluntly. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  “Figures.” The werewolf hadn’t bothered to fully button up his shirt, and Jonathan saw Aria give him a pointed look. The werewolf merely smiled and waggled his eyebrows suggestively before slowly undoing one of the buttons, which prompted a disgusted sound from the former paladin. She glanced past the werewolf at the bear. The bear caught her gaze and huffed in amusement before one of those strange, shadowy creatures leapt over to button up the werewolf’s shirt. “Really? You might like wearing buttoned up shirts, but I’m a werewolf. Do you have any idea how expensive it is to keep replacing clothing since it takes ages to remove it, and it always gets ripped up when I transform?”

  “At least try to look presentable,” Aria growled. “And do up your trousers.”

  “Oh? How did you know they weren’t done up?”

  The bear chortled, and Jonathan noticed Aria testing the weight of her buckler. Even if she bashed him over the head with it, the werewolf was unlikely to suffer any lasting damage. “Fine. Whatever. Just introduce yourself before I stab you, and, yes, I know that won’t kill you, and, yes, that is the point.”

  The werewolf stood with lazy grace and sketched an awkward half bow at Jonathan. It was lackadaisical, but Jonathan wasn’t fooled. Even though he was holding his trousers up with one hand, the werewolf still radiated danger. Aria sighed and threw a belt at him. He caught it without looking. “My name is Eric. I don’t have a last name – few werewolves do – but I’m from the Howl Pack of the Eradu Clan.”

  Jonathan stilled. His excellent memory – one of the perks of having [Memory] as one of his main words – allowed him to recognise the name immediately. Like any good vampire scholar, he had researched the werewolves and their various clans. So much of vampire history was tied up in the seemingly endless struggle against them, and they remained one of the gravest threats to the Blood Alliance. “The Eradu Clan? Isn’t that the clan ruled by…?”

  Eric bared his teeth. “It’s nice to get some recognition.” His comment drew an eye roll from Aria. “I can’t say I’ve spent a lot of time around him, but I can say this. Alaric is not a werewolf you ever want to fight.”

  Jonathan nodded slowly. Alaric the Great Silver was a legendary silver-furred werewolf who had been the stuff of vampire nightmares since before the Blood Empire had been founded. As far as Jonathan knew, Alaric was the only werewolf alive who had grown so powerful that he was completely impervious to silver – not resistant but completely impervious. He was also the only werewolf old enough to remember the ancient werewolf homelands that had been lost when the gods unleashed a storm of fire upon them. Over the centuries, Alaric had been likened to a living natural disaster. He was less a werewolf and more a force of nature.

  The only reason Jonathan – and everyone else in the Blood Alliance – wasn’t currently hailing Alaric as their ruler was because of the legendary battle Alaric had fought against the Blood Emperor on the Plains of Ash, which had, until then been known as the Verdant Plains. The two titans had fought for two days and two nights – the Blood Emperor had already been strong enough to ignore daylight – before grudgingly agreeing to a ceasefire lest their enemies seize the advantage while they battled against each other. It was often said that no one had been angrier than Alaric when the Blood Emperor had been betrayed since he had been looking forward to a rematch. The mighty werewolf had personally hunted down and slaughtered many of the paladins involved before launching a tremendous assault on the Blood Alliance that was only barely repelled.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Eric. Do you always fight as a werewolf?”

  Eric gestured at a spear propped against the wall. “I’m as good with a spear as I am with my claws and teeth. Besides, you can’t walk around as a werewolf everywhere.”

  “True.”

  Eric grinned. “Of course, spearing things doesn’t come with the same benefits.” It was well known that some werewolves possessed the ability to absorb the skills and strengths of others by eating them. It wasn’t a common skill, but it was often found amongst certain clans. Jonathan wasn’t about to judge him for it either. Vampires survived by drinking other people’s blood.

  Eric gave one last toothy smile before sitting down. The former paladin scoffed. Clearly, Aria was used to such antics. The merman then took the opportunity to introduce himself. Despite remaining seated – the room didn’t have a high ceiling, so it was entirely possible he would break it if he stood to his full height – he still cut an imposing figure. Mermen were rarely skinny since swimming everywhere was good for building muscles, but Jonathan had never heard of one this heavily muscled before. Then again, elves were usually lanky, and he had met a few heavily muscled elves over the years. However, it was the colour of his scales that truly caught Jonathan’s attention.

  The merman’s scales were a deep, mesmerising blue that shifted whenever the light hit them from a different angle. Most of the time, they were the blue of the deep sea, yet as the merman shifted in his seat, they took on a lighter hue akin to the sky in the early afternoon before darkening to the colour of the sky just shy of dusk. And then there was the scar. The mesmerising nature of the merman’s scales made it hard to see from a distance, but it was massive, dominating the merman’s chest. It was so large that it was difficult to believe he could possibly have survived receiving it. Unlike vampires and werewolves, mermen were not famed for their ability to heal and regenerate.

  “If you’re wondering,” the merman said. “There is a matching scar on my back too.”

  Jonathan gaped. Whatever had hit the merman must have gone right through him. “How… how did you survive, and what kind of weapon was it?”

  “A dwarf wind lance,” the merman said with a grin. “I had my back turned, and it was on the deck of the ship. The one using it had Words that only added to its piercing power.”

  Jonathan had read accounts of such weapons, which were not unlike ballistae. They could punch right through steel plate with ease, and they were typically deployed against drakes and other large threats. With a Word to boost their effectiveness, they’d been known to bring down even elephants and whales with a single shot. “And you survived?”

  “Of course, I did. I had to teach them the error of their ways.” The merman grinned, revealing pointy teeth, which looked perfect for tearing apart fish. “Some surface dwellers think they own the oceans too. Most of them are fools, but the occasional group prepares correctly.” The merman laughed. “I was younger then – and foolish. Had I kept my wits about me, they’d never have hit me in the first place. I was badly wounded, yes, but I lived, and with my Words, I sank their ship.”

  “But how did you survive? I know that mermen have different anatomies to humans and vampires, but still…”

  The merman pointed to something. There amidst the mesmerising colours and patterns of his scales was a tattoo. “Trade secrets, my friend, but the blessings of the Gods of the Deep are not to be taken lightly. They remember when krakens and leviathans tried to drown the world, and they were there when the oceans were filled by a thousand years of rain. Their power is vast, and those loyal to them cannot easily be killed when they a
re within the sea’s embrace.”

  Jonathan nodded grimly. It was well known that the sea folk had gods of their own. Some believed that those gods were the same as those worshipped by land dwellers, albeit with different names. However, there were hints – mostly in ancient texts and the like – that their gods were different beings entirely and not all of them got along well with the gods who ruled the surface. Every civilisation had legends of the oceans swallowing up the world. There had to be a reason for that. “What is your name?”

  “I go by Blue Scales,” the merman replied. “At least, up here I do.”

  Aria caught Jonathan’s surprise and chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Believe me, we’ve asked for his actual name. We don’t have the correct organs – and air isn’t the correct medium – to pronounce it. Our attempts end up sounding insulting, so he decided to go for something simple.”

  Blue Scales grinned again. “You surface dwellers and your inability to breathe and speak underwater.” He shot a teasing look at Eric. “You might say you’re tough, but even a werewolf wouldn’t last long at the bottom of the ocean.”

  “Because it’s the bottom of the ocean.” Eric grinned back. “Us werewolves are made for land. Let’s see how you fare in the desert. I’d be fine, but you? Hah. We’d all be enjoying grilled fish by the end of the first day.”

  Blue Scales through his head back and laughed. “Which is why I avoid deserts, wolf boy. And it’s why you surface dwellers should stop picking fights with my people while you’re sailing around in small wooden boxes on the very big ocean.”

  “Out of interest,” Jonathan said. “Aren’t you a little far from the sea? I know mermen can travel on land to some extent, but I’ve read plenty of accounts of mermen refusing to go more than a day’s journey from the shore. I’ve never heard of a merman coming this far inland by choice.”