Chapter 49: Amunet Sees The Ashes Surface

Mon, November 23, 2074 1:10 pm: Ethelden Palace- Amhurst, Veronaville



"Good grief! I certainly hope that you don't plan on going to temple dressed like that. Your brother will have hysterics." Devi splashed water in Amunet's direction, her eyes flashing in a way that was as predatory as it was playful. Warm vapors washed over Amunet's body as she stepped forward through the doorway, making the fine hair on her arms prickle. She ran her palms down sides of her skirt, nervously flattening the hoary feathers that decked her hips.



"No Your Majesty, of course not. I'll be dressed," she murmured. In truth, Amunet had not even bothered to change her clothes from the evening before. The better part of her morning had been spent pacing the ladies' tearoom, clutching her throat and arguing with herself. For days, she hadn't eaten. She'd barely slept. She couldn't be certain that she would attend temple services at all, let alone properly dressed. Something was plaguing her and there was only one person who could help. But he was terrifying.



"I have a sneaking suspicion that Magus Rodin has much bigger concerns than what his sister wears to temple," Maya remarked dully, twirling a lock of her long black hair around her finger.

"Increasingly bigger," Zephyr mouthed, using her hands to create a domed arch over her stomach. The ladies all exchanged wicked smiles and knowing glances but they made no further innuendo. Amunet bit her lip and lowered her eyes. She had not forgotten the scandal involving her brother and Imina Brylowe but somehow what had seemed to be of all-consuming importance last week was now rendered trivial.



"Is something wrong, Amunet? You look a bit flushed." Amunet turned her attention to Tara who was standing near the fireplace, wearing the shapeless gown that fae women only adorned for prayer. She sounded genuinely concerned. Amunet crossed and uncrossed her arms over her chest. She was more grateful for Tara's tenderness than she had ever been but all of the gratefulness in the world did nothing for her fear. If anything, it made her feel strangely indebted to Tara and all the more uncomfortable for it.

Devi raised a large bottle of lavender oil from the edge of the bath without the usage of her hands. It floated through the air, towards the center of the bath and collided with the chandelier as it tipped forward to empty its contents. The room was filled with the chime of crystal.



"I'm fine. It's just the moisture in the air," Amunet lied. Tara stared at her wordlessly, inscrutably. Perhaps she knew first hand what Amunet was experiencing. The fatigue. The confusion. The dread. The vague and discomfiting longing. Amunet tapped her fingertips over her lace choker, fighting back tears. "May I speak with you in private for a moment, Your Majesty," she asked.

"Of course, dear," Tara whispered, smiling weakly. Her eyes spoke only pity and Amunet, who had never before felt pitiable, pushed her hair back from her face with more force than the task required.

Tara passed by Amunet, briskly leading the way out. In the hall, she peered into the door of the nearest dressing room and finding it unoccupied, entered with Amunet in tow.



"Now you may tell me what's troubling you," Tara said, gently taking Amunet by the fingers. Amunet closed her eyes and exhaled. She had practiced her request under her breath in the tearoom but she needn't have. It was simple enough. The explanation that followed would prove more difficult.

"I need to speak with Mahadeva," she said. Tara eyed her curiously.



"Mahadeva is away from the palace and might not return for several weeks. Why? Is it urgent?" Amunet's heart sank. She had not anticipated that. As far as she knew, the Sheut rarely left the palace grounds. Amunet stepped closer to Tara, the soft leather soles of her slippers making a rough, abrasive sound against the cement tiles.

"If I show you something, you must swear never to tell a soul. No one but Mahadeva," Amunet breathed. Tara sucked her teeth, evidently put-off by the fact that Amunet would presume to make such a request of her. But she nodded in agreement all the same. Amunet unhooked her choker.



Tara placed a hand on Amunet's shoulder. She pulled back the choker to have a better look at the bandage on Amunet's neck and the abrasion underneath the bandage. When Tara pulled away, she straightened her posture imperiously.

"When did this happen?" The princess's tone was solemn and business-like but she could not disguise the shock that flitted across her face.



"Last Wednesday, I believe. Do you think that Mahadeva might know one of his kind who would go after a fae?" Tara shrugged at the question.

"He rarely speaks about that part of his life. I don't know what he knows about 'his kind', as you say." Amunet rubbed her bare arms, wondering whether she had unintentionally stumbled upon a point of contention between Tara and her consort.

"Is he very secretive," Amunet asked. Tara shook her head slowly.

"No, not secretive. Just ashamed, I think." There was a pause during which Tara peered at the wall, losing herself in thought. "What were you doing when all of this happened? Do you remember at all?"

"I don't remember anything after our crochet circle Tuesday night."

"And the next thing that you recall after the crochet circle?" Amunet placed a hand on her forehead as if to physically extract her past from therein.



"Well I woke-up Thursday morning at the Seven Towers Hotel in Kings Contrivance. My dress was torn at the hem and my neck was wrapped in surgical gauze. I had a terrible headache. I went to check out at the front desk and the clerk had a note that had been left for me. It was unsigned."

"Did the clerk see the person who left it?"

"No. And she didn't really know when it had been left either." Tara held out her hand, rapidly opening and closing her palm.

"Show me."



Amunet reached into her bodice and pulled out the letter, less-than-gracefully rearranging her bust. She carefully smoothed the creases on the paper before handing it to Tara, feeling as though she were entrusting Tara with something precious. Tara flipped the page over, studying the paper as much as she did the writing upon it.

"What does this mean, 'as per your request'," Tara asked, frowning.

"I don't know. I can't even imagine."

"And come to think of it, how does a vampire take down a fully grown fae?" Amunet winced. She had almost been anticipating that question. Tara probably thought she'd given herself over to the vampire willingly. Sometimes even Amunet interpreted the note that way.

"I have to assume that it wasn't an ordinary vampire," Amunet said, looking to Tara uneasily. Tara clasped the note between two fingers.

"This is not Mahadeva's handwriting," she replied.



"Of course not! I would never dream of accusing him. I only meant that there had to be something unusual about the one that attacked me." Amunet raised her arms in a gesture of surrender. Tara took Amunet by the wrists and pressed the note into the flat of her hand.

"In any case, hold on to this. If there is a vampire bold enough to take a fae for a victim then he won't stay in hiding for long. We may need this letter to help identify him. Now tell me this- Whose name was on the bill for your hotel room?"

"Mine. He used my credit card." Tara smiled complacently.



"We'll find him before he tries something like this again. Until then, you are not to leave the palace grounds. This vampire might still be a danger to you." Amunet nodded in silence. Tara took her first step towards the door and Amunet grabbed her arm.



"Wait." A hazy image was starting to take shape in her mind, brought on by nothing. "I do remember something. Water. Salt water. The sea." Amunet turned her gaze upwards to meet Tara's. Underdeveloped images were surfacing, bloated and barely recognizable. "He had hair the color of ashes."

Chapter 42: Alexei Is Waist-Deep In The Flood

TRIGGER WARNING: assault, macabre images, references to gruesome violence

Weds, November 18, 2074 8:07 pm: Amrita Beach- The Village of Kings Contrivance, Veronaville



This was the end of the road. Alexei's heels skidded in the gravel as he came to a halt at the edge of the sea. The fae girl that he'd been chasing foolishly plowed against the waves, shielding her chest with her arms. Water swelled from her ankles to her waist, prodding her lithe body like driftwood. Perhaps if he stood there long enough, he would witness her head disappearing beneath the brine. He grew weary of this game.



Alexei strolled casually into the surf, humming a few lines of Au Clair de la Lune and mentally preparing himself for the brutal cold of Belmori Sea. Despite the roaring tide, he could distinctly hear the palpitations of her heart and the terrified sobs that issued forth from her mouth- Both of which tantalized him. This one would thrash and scream. This one would pray until she lost consciousness. She was already putting up the sort of fight that would have deterred other vampires. But Alexei had acquired a taste for this caliber of prey and they were never easy. They knew what stalked them.



The fae stopped hauling herself forward, perhaps recognizing the futility of motion. Alexei crept up behind her so close that he could smell her. She was a creature of cumin and orange peel, cinnamon and saffron. Everything about her set his senses alight. She would be worth the struggle.

Eight times in the past three hours, she'd had attempted to kill him, completely exhausting her magic. Even up to her knees in salt water, she couldn't have passed an electric current to save her life. Alexei ran his wet fingers up her spine and she shivered violently.

"Here pretty, pretty," he purred.

"No..." Her voice was guttural and raw like the crackling burn of dry wood. It was the sound of great strength failing. Alexei wrapped his arms around her as she folded from fear and fatigue. Her tears were falling hard now, freezing at the tip of her nose. "Please don't hurt me," she pleaded. Alexei smirked viciously. God, did he hate to hear them beg.





"'Don't hurt me,' it says. After all the trouble that it has caused me, I aught to kill it just for shits and giggles."

"Please-" It was all that Alexei could take of her whining. He jerked her arm behind her back, cutting off her speech. She cried out in pain.




"Save it," he hissed. The fae quieted down to a pant, no doubt frightened of what would happen to her if she didn't. "That's better." He let go of her arm and placed a hand over her eyes. She clawed at him at first, attempting to pry his hand from her face but he held on firmly until she relaxed against his chest. She was like a beached fish, fully resigned to suffocation.

Alexei's shoes were filling fast with water and silt. The wind whipped around them, churning the sea at their waists. Alexei exhaled, uncovering her eyes and allowing his hand to roam over her abdomen. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he lost himself in premature pangs of grief. Even with as desirable as she was, he knew that after he'd taken what he wanted, he would be left feeling hollow- A wretch drunk on his own self pity, standing waist-deep in the flood. There was no satisfaction left for him in the world.





He would spend what remained of eternity trying to get back the ardor he'd felt for that girl on the marsh ten years prior. Just listening to her bones splinter, he'd achieved an ecstasy that no mortal can know. All the glory of God had been in her. This was what Kvornan could not understand. Their union was a sacred act. As full of regret as he was, he had been born to eat her alive. And he didn't even know her name.

Alexei's right hand brushed against the pocket that contained his wallet. He kept a short lock of her hair in the plastic compartment where other people kept photographs of their loved ones. It was all that he had left.




With a heavy heart, he spun the fae around. Her lips were blue from cold though her teeth had stopped chattering some time ago. Alexei stroked her shoulders to generate some semblance of heat and she only stared blankly at him through half-closed lids. It was as though she were already dead. The first snowflakes appeared in the sky. He would need to get this over with before she died of hypothermia in his arms. He cleared his throat.

"I'm afraid that there is no feasible way for me not to hurt you but I promise that you will have forgotten about it by morning. I'll even heal the wounds for you." That last snapped her out of her spell. Her face contorted in fear.

"No! No. Leave the wounds," she rasped. Her eyes pleaded more strongly than her mouth and for a brief instant, he almost wanted comply. But that wasn't an option. He could leave no trace.

"You know I can't do that," he said. The girl crumpled in his arms and began sobbing anew. Even the small exchange of blood necessary to heal her would destroy her perfect light. She would be an abomination in the eyes of heaven almost as lowly as he was. Alexei stroked her back comfortingly. In a few short moments, they would share a life between them- Hers.

"Shhh," he soothed. "Relax, little girl. It isn't all bad." He wound her hair around wrist and forcefully jerked her head back. "In me, you will live forever."

May 10, 2050 5:12 am: Blue Lake- Sleighton, Pleasantview (Twenty-Four years earlier)


The vampire who called himself Vincent Randall had by degrees taken over the ship. Maybe it was nothing more than the severity of his glare but when he barked orders, even the most willful crewmembers fell into line. He was bitter and unapproachable, shrewd and hardworking. He talked like a fae, looked like a Townie and carried himself like a king. There wasn't much that piqued Alexei's curiosity at his age but this man was a notable exception.

"What are you waiting for, Garrison? Don't just stand there like a worthless sack of shit! Lower the starboard nets," Vincent yelled. Alexei scrambled like a child caught in the act of truancy.

"Sir," he shouted back affirmatively.



Water splashed up onto the deck, soaking through Alexei's skin. It was all he could do not to shudder in revulsion. Blue Lake was where Pleasantview's sewage ended its life. Were he to bathe thrice daily for the next hundred years, Alexei would still never feel clean again. He gave the netting a tug. The green sludge that coated the rope stained his palms and smelled remotely like rotting flesh. Maybe Bella Goth really was down there.

Vincent passed by him and their shoulders brushed. Alexei wondered how long he could keep this man's identity to himself.





"Bosun, there's something caught in the aft netting. Looks like... Tree branches or something. I think it's fixing to get stuck in the rudder," Marty Tyler, the ship's watchstander, called out. Vincent muttered obscenities under his breath, making his way across the deck.

"Start reeling it in. Landgraab, Garrison and Garrison get over here," Vincent shouted. Alexei tossed the starboard nets overboard and jogged towards the stern.



The net was already caught on something. Five men pulled the ropes taught and the netting refused to budge. The rope in Antoine's hand snapped clean away, burning his palms.

"Are you alright," Alexei shouted at his brother. Antoine nodded gravely, staring at his hands as though he had never seen them before.



"There's a pelvis in the net," Antoine reported. Alexei's eyebrows rose. Certainly, he had heard incorrectly.

"What?"

"It's a- a pelvis. I saw it surface."

"Pick-up the slack, Garrison," Vincent screamed at Antoine. By now, the rest of the crew was joining in. Alexei felt his rope dislodge. "Ok men, bring it up on three. One! Two! Three!" Alexei heaved and swung his portion of the net onboard.



The men dropped the netting and backed away from it as it hit the deck. It was a terrible mess of rope, vegetation, excrement and something that did indeed look like tree branches. Alexei kicked the netting back as best he could, revealing a fully decayed set of human remains.

"Is it her," the watchstander asked. No one responded. Antoine bent down onto his knees, looking the body over. Alexei knew the damage that water could do but this body was too long dead to be Bella's. Antoine turned his eyes up to Alexei.

"It's a child," he declared solemnly.