A Shade of Vampire 73: A Search for Death

by Forrest, Bella

  Raphael nodded. “Maybe you’ve got a connection to something here,” he added, seemingly on board with Lumi’s theory.

  Good, it means you don’t think I’m crazy, after all, I thought to myself, and the relief that followed was almost comical. “That’s possible. It would then beg the follow-up question: What the hell am I connected to?”

  No one had an answer, not even our beloved, Word-connected swamp witch.

  “Until we figure it out, we might as well rest for a bit,” Eira said, smiling. “We can keep moving after this.”

  “I’m also getting hungry.” Taeral sighed.

  Raphael’s stomach was quite vocal in its agreement. It prompted a turbulent blush in his otherwise diaphanous cheeks as he looked at me. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Don’t worry, we all get that way, sooner or later,” I said. “I should have some blood, too. If there’s anything around here that might want to kill us, including the Hermessi, we might as well be physically prepared.”

  “Besides, Raphael and Taeral recovered from some pretty serious injuries,” Eira replied. “Sure, the pink water healed them, but, still, they took their toll.”

  “Nutrition is important,” Lumi said, her tone formal and stiff, then laughed. “That’s what my swamp witch mentor used to say every morning.”

  We settled by the water’s edge. Hydration came first, but it didn’t stop me from asking a key question. “Lumi, you never told us. Who was your mentor? Was she from Calliope?”

  The swamp witch nodded, watching while we all filled our palms with sweet water and drank until we were sated. Birds chirped around us, playfully hopping branches and chasing black butterflies—I’d never seen insects like these before. Their antennae were long and covered in soft hairs that looked like short feathers. Butterflies with feathery pigtails.

  “Her name was Votya. She’d been born a succubus, and she was one of the oldest servants of the Word at the time. Ten thousand years ago, our pixie population had begun its rapid decline. Most of the swamp witches from our species had faded. Therefore, when I decided to become a swamp witch, I chose to look for Votya,” Lumi said, a sad glimmer in her eyes. Her memories seemed vivid, given her expression. Intense, even. “I searched for her across the continents of Calliope. Month after month, until I caught her trail. You see, Votya didn’t want to teach anyone. There were other swamp witches who took on apprentices, but I’d chosen her because of her reputation. She was, by far, the wisest and most experienced. I was determined to learn from the best because, deep down, I had this feeling that… if my species was to die off, I could very well be the only one left to maybe… I don’t know, restart it, someday.”

  “Whoa, stop there. So swamp witches can reproduce,” Raphael interjected, his eyebrows arched in surprise.

  Lumi frowned at him. “Why wouldn’t we be capable of that?”

  “No, I just… I just found it weird that you ladies didn’t have offspring, in general,” Raphael mumbled. Lumi had a tendency to intimidate, regardless of the size of her challenger.

  “To tell the truth, becoming mothers was never really on our to-do list.” Lumi sighed. “It wasn’t on mine for a long time, as I continued to hope that the pixies would survive that population slump. When they didn’t, I understood that it would all fall on me, someday. I think Ta’Zan would’ve come in handy,” she added with a bitter smile. “Maniac or not, he had the knowledge of genetics to recreate the pixie race. Had he not been so evil, I would’ve spoken to him about it. I would’ve offered myself as a surrogate mother, even.”

  “So, if it wasn’t a priority for the swamp witches but not forbidden either, why didn’t any of them have children?” Taeral asked.

  Lumi thought about it for a moment. I was inclined to think she didn’t have an answer.

  “I could tell you I don’t know of any who had children,” she replied. “But that doesn’t mean none of them did. But even if they did give birth, they clearly didn’t initiate them into the ways of the Word; otherwise, I wouldn’t have been the only one left, stuck in that basement on Neraka.”

  What she said made sense. Swamp witches were made, not born. They came from different species and dedicated their lives to serving and propagating the power of the Word. Their children would’ve been untouched by it, unless they later chose to become swamp witches, too. And, as Lumi had just said, that obviously didn’t happen.

  “I have to wonder why the swamp witches who presumably had children didn’t initiate them,” I thought out loud.

  “It could be they had sons,” Lumi proposed. “The Word doesn’t bond very well with the males of any species, for some reason. Or maybe Azazel killed their mothers along with the other swamp witches, leaving the children without any knowledge of the Word’s existence.”

  Taeral scratched the back of his head. “So, the Word doesn’t accept males. At all.” It was meant as a question.

  I sat down on a boulder, crossing my legs and watching the stream go by—a thick sheet of clear water caressing a blanket of rounded black-and-gray rocks. Here and there, dozens of little white fish wiggled their way down the river, rushing somewhere. Always rushing.

  “I know my sisters did try to initiate males, at some point. They probably tried again when Azazel rose to power and started killing them off—though I wasn’t there to witness any of it,” Lumi replied. “The result would likely have been the same. I remember two young Druids who wanted to know the ways of the Word. They begged Votya to teach them.”

  “Wait, the same Votya whom you eventually found and who took you in?” Eira asked, her eyes wide.

  I had a feeling that Inalia’s curiosity and excitement upon learning about creatures outside her world had, in fact, rubbed off on Eira. Unlike Inalia, Eira wasn’t quick to come out of her shell. Only now was she talking more. Asking questions. Doubting things that didn’t seem right to her. Then again, her introduction to the outer world beyond Cerix had been tumultuous, to say the least. She was still adjusting to it all, including our rhythm as a crew. But Eira was growing into her own. I could tell. Her self-confidence was blossoming, and Taeral seemed to have noticed it, also. More and more, I saw him stealing glances at her, each followed by a mild twitch in the corner of his mouth. A tentative smile of sorts.

  “Oh, yes,” Lumi replied, smiling fondly at the memories that Eira’s questions had brought up. “It took me years to get Votya to teach me. I lingered around her, followed her around wherever she went. I never let her out of my sight. I offered to care for her horse—that was when she finally acknowledged my presence.” She chuckled. “But she never turned me away. She just didn’t care whether I was following her or not. I must’ve proved myself and my intentions to her, because, at one point, I woke up one morning—I’d been sleeping outside her tent during the longer voyages—I woke up, and I saw two horses instead of one. Votya was standing next to me, and she said that I might as well have my own, if I was going to tag along.”

  “You couldn’t get your own horse before that?” Taeral asked.

  Lumi shook her head. “I was poor. Dirt poor. As soon as I left my home woods, I entered a different world on Calliope. One of trade and sustenance. The society was diametrically opposed to the pixies’ way of life. Back then, I didn’t hide my wings like I do now, so everyone could see what I was. No one had taught me to keep my nature hidden to better integrate in Calliope’s society, so I didn’t have it easy. I scrounged for food wherever there was a forest, and it was how I survived. Later down the line, I figured a few things out and learned to keep my wings to myself. The people no longer perceived me as an outsider, and they were slightly more welcoming.” I’d almost forgotten that Lumi was, by nature, a pixie. She kept her wings hidden from us, but we’d all learned about her origins since the Strava incident. Eira hadn’t known until now, but she didn’t ask additional questions, allowing Lumi to tell her story. “But I could never get close enough to a market to buy my own horse. Not to mention tame one from the
wild. They’re dangerous creatures, especially the white ones with red manes.”

  “And Votya taught you after she got you a horse,” I said.

  She shook her head again. “It took her another year to accept me as an apprentice. But she did. And it was the best decision I ever made in my life. Given the fertility drop among my people, it was only a matter of time before they’d die off. I didn’t want to find myself a pixie male and try and try and try… for nothing, only to get my heart broken repeatedly. So, I chose the path of a swamp witch.”

  “And Votya tried to create male swamp witches, too?” Raphael asked.

  “Technically, they’d be swamp warlocks,” I corrected him, smiling. He mirrored my expression, but there was a playfulness there I hadn’t seen in a while. I’d missed it. It brought the butterflies in my stomach back to life.

  “Yes, she did,” Lumi said. “Not that she was keen on having new apprentices at the time. I was a handful all by myself. But she just wanted to try. She wanted to see if it was possible. Others had tried before, and there had been word of their failure, but the details were never known as to why they hadn’t succeeded. It became an ambition for Votya, so, when we crossed paths with a Druid who wanted to know more about the Word and our craft, she was willing to teach him.”

  “What happened?” I asked. Noticing movement in the corner of my eye, I slowly turned my head. The sight before me made me freeze. Just one yard from me, her feet beneath the stream, was a young girl with pale blue skin and big, wide, emerald eyes. A little too big for the proportions of her face, but beautiful nonetheless. She wore a medium-length dress, simple and white, perhaps made of some type of linen. She didn’t look older than fifteen, and she was semi-transparent, like the many others I’d seen. Quietly, she watched me.

  “He died in the first stage of his apprenticeship,” Lumi replied, her voice low. She’d probably yet to notice me gawking at… air. None of my crew could see this strange girl; otherwise, they already would’ve reacted. I didn’t take my eyes off her while Lumi continued her tale. “He drowned in the fluid pod. Instead of communing with the Word for the first time, he… he drowned. At first, Votya and I thought it to be a terrible accident. But then, the second Druid apprentice came around, a few months later, and he suffered an identical fate.”

  “Drowned in the pod,” Raphael repeated.

  I thought I’d smile at the blue girl. Maybe she’d speak then. She didn’t, but she smiled back. Her teeth were small, cute and square and perfectly white, with a little gap between the upper incisors. It made her seem mischievous—like the kind of kid you had to keep an eye on, because she’d do something that would get her in trouble.

  “Therefore, a male apprentice won’t survive the first stage,” Taeral concluded.

  “After that, Votya didn’t dare try again,” Lumi said. “She didn’t want another soul on her conscience.”

  “Amelia, what’s wrong?” Raphael’s voice came through, loud and sharp enough to demand my attention. I looked at him and took a deep breath.

  “I take it you don’t see her,” I said resignedly.

  “A vision? Or illusion, or whatever it is you’re seeing?” Raphael replied, his brow furrowed. I nodded slowly. “No. I can’t.”

  “She’s literally a yard away from me, feet in the water,” I said. “Blue skin, big green eyes. Not from a species I recognize. I must be losing my mind. Slowly but surely…”

  I lowered my head, while my mind struggled to hold its grip on reality. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this. There had to be something that was causing these sightings. The girl was even more peculiar because of how close she’d gotten to me. None of the others had dared come within a yard of me. This was new.

  “Is she doing anything?” Raphael asked, kneeling next to me.

  “No, she’s just standing there and watching me,” I said.

  “You could ask me a question. Then I’d have something to say, perhaps,” the blue girl spoke, and my heart leapt into my throat. I nearly jumped but felt Raphael’s hand firmly set on my thigh—it was enough to keep me anchored and still, because the last thing I wanted was to scare her off.

  “Holy moly, you can talk,” I gasped.

  “What? Wait… What is she saying?” Raphael asked.

  “Where are we?” I asked her, my brain switching gears, all of them clunky and heavy after watching all these creatures and wondering about my sanity.

  The girl shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “What planet?” I replied, while the rest of the crew waited silently for me to relay her responses. I was too busy focusing on her, though.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “You’re not helping,” I complained, slightly frustrated.

  “It’s not my fault. I just woke up here!”

  “So, you just follow people around and say nothing and let them think they’re going nuts?” I croaked.

  “I wasn’t sure if you could be trusted. Also, I found it weird that you’re the only one who can see me,” she replied.

  I couldn’t help but scoff. “Yeah, you and me both.”

  My gaze dropped to Raphael’s hand, still on my thigh. Next to it, the scythe’s blade gave off a delicate glint. Like a giant boulder let loose from the top of a mountain, the realization hit me. A string of expletives trickled from my lips, as my stomach sank—lead on the bottom. “You’ve got to be friggin’ kidding me. And I’m supposed to be a prodigy genius or whatever,” I managed.

  “What is it, Amelia?” Lumi asked, this time, while Raphael watched me carefully.

  I brought the scythe up. “I think it’s this. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it until now.”

  “What’s that?” the girl asked curiously. We were as strange to her as she was to us, and I was in no position to judge her for her choice to stay silent. She didn’t know us, and she seemed old enough to have already been taught that not all strangers are good. The poor creature was just being cautious, and, if my scythe-related theory proved to be correct, she was also dead…

  “Hold this,” I said to Raphael and handed him the scythe.

  He hesitated for a moment, but as soon as his fingers wrapped around the ivory handle, his expression changed. His eyes bulged when he saw the blue girl—whom I could no longer see.

  “Oh… dear…” he whispered. I shot to my feet, grinning victoriously.

  “Hah!” I cackled. “I figured it out.”

  Needless to say, Lumi, Eira, and Taeral were still waiting for an answer, understandably befuddled by what they were witnessing.

  “I can… I can see her,” Raphael said, then grunted. “And she doesn’t like me very much. She wants to talk to you, not me.”

  He gave me the scythe back, and she became visible to me once more—arms crossed and pouting. Her face lit up when she realized I could see her again. “Don’t leave me with him again,” she insisted.

  I laughed. Not so much because of her immediate disdain of Raphael, but because I now knew for a fact that I wasn’t going cuckoo.

  “I’m confused,” Eira said.

  “For good reason!” I replied, then glanced at the scythe. “It’s this. It’s the scythe. It belongs to a Reaper, and it seems to have at least one ability that comes with touching it. It shows you ghosts.”

  Silence settled over our group as the fact sank in properly. My heart was rushing. Raphael had an eyebrow up—he probably didn’t like that my blue ghost girl didn’t immediately fawn over him, like most females would. Like I already was, even though I’d done my best not to show him.

  “Reapers walk the fine line between the world of the dead and that of the living, which is where ghosts reside, as well,” I added. “Spirits that have yet to move on. That’s what the girl is. That’s what all the people I’ve been seeing are.”

  “You didn’t see any on Hellym, though,” Taeral replied.

  I had an answer for that, too. “It’s been a long time since its inhabitants died,” I
said. “They were likely all reaped. If any of them were left behind, what were the odds I’d see them, right there, where we had our incident with Yamani?”

  “Minimal, I suppose,” Taeral mused. “Fair enough. So, the scythe lets you see dead people.”

  I turned to look at the girl, offering an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry… I mean, I’m sorry you died.”

  “It’s not like it’s your fault.” She sighed.

  “You knew that you were dead, then,” I concluded.

  She shrugged. “I figured that much. Maybe I should be more alarmed by this, but… I think I’ve been like this for a while now.”

  “Maybe you’ve had time to adjust,” I said.

  I had no idea how a person would react upon hearing they’re dead, that they’re going to leave this world and move on. Ben’s and Lucas’s accounts had painted a rich picture, yes, but even so, I had no emotional state of my own to compare it to. All I had was a fear of dying, complete with heart palpitations and burning heat soaring through me—something I’d recently experienced with Yamani, back on Hellym.

  Therefore, I didn’t know how this blue-skinned girl felt, only that I was sorry for her. Deeply sorry. She’d obviously died too young, unable to reach her potential in this life. That was tragic, and it pained me to see her like this.

  “Maybe. But I still don’t know where I am,” she said. “I was hoping you’d know, but when I heard you all wonder, I realized you’re as lost as I am.”

  “Is that why you came so close to me?” I asked.

  She nodded once. “I’m tired of all the dead people here,” she replied. “They’re all sad or confused or angry. You, on the other hand, you’re trying to do something. You’re trying to figure out where you are, at least.”

  I relayed everything she told me to Lumi, Raphael, Eira, and Taeral. They had questions of their own for the girl, but she didn’t have any useful answers. Lumi took the scythe, then Eira and Taeral, each of them wanting to know more about her and what she’d seen around here.