Chapter 3 – "Darklore"
"I told you – I'm going alone!"
"And we're coming with you!"
Luthica glared at Flag Knight Frett. The pesky, blond haired herald glared right back at her, the band aid on her forehead only serving to make her that much more stubborn and defiant looking.
"Ugh! Fine! Do whatever you want! It's not like I could stop you anyway . . ."
Frett at once returned to her usual, good natured self.
"But put that flag away!"
"Aw . . ."
Frett moved to protest, but one look from Luthica told her that she would get nowhere. She took one last look at the beloved strip of royal blue cloth, with its checkered shield, surrounded by wings and a crown, and then reluctantly began folding it to place it back in her bag.
"Um, not that I mind, but – couldn't we at least wait until morning?" Pintail asked.
"You're the ones who wanted to accompany me!"
"I know – it's just that, at this rate, it's going to be dark soon . . ."
"Good", Luthica said, getting that red glint in her eyes again. "I want it to be dark. I want them to be awake. There are – questions – I want to ask them . . ."
Seeing her friend's mood, Pintail decided it would be best not to say any more about it, and so for a while they walked on in silence. The forest road was already dim, and growing darker by the minute. As night descended, the trees leaned in close on either side, until there was nothing left but the narrow road, surrounded on either side by a thick, tangible blackness. Occasionally a stray branch would reach out to grab at their clothes, or swat at their hair. It was unnerving, like being touched by an unseen hand in the darkness, and only added to the forest's eeriness.
The moon rose, but it did little to lift their spirits. From its pale light, Pintail could see that they were travelling through a land of evergreens. These were usually a source of warmth and cheer, and a symbol of long life, but for tonight's errand they were concerned with a very different sort of immortality.
Several times, when they came to a cross roads, Luthica would halt, and then take out a ragged piece of paper, which she very carefully unfolded, and studied for a moment. On one occasion, Pintail managed to steal a look at it. It wasn't a map – just a few scrawled notes, and several sets of squiggled lines, which seemed to indicate places where two roads came together. Pintail was sure she would have become utterly lost if she had tried to follow it, but it must have been intelligible to Luthica, because after she would study it for a while, she would carefully fold it up and put it away again, before saying, "This way", and sometimes pointing, before heading off again.
After several twists and turns, she gave up trying to follow along, and just accepted that she had no earthly idea where they were. She would have liked to have known where they were going, but didn't dare ask. Frett, for her part, seemed unconcerned, and so they trudged on in silence, uphill and downhill, and always surrounded by trees, which more and more seemed to be watching them as the night wore on.
When they had gone so long that Pintail had begun to despair of ever reaching their unknown, unnamed destination, Luthica came to a sudden stop, right in the middle of the path. She looked around, seeming to find her bearings with some unknown landmark, and then very hastily hurried them off of the road, into the trees. There was a steep hillside not far off, and here Luthica bade them climb, motioning for them to keep low, as they scrambled up the slope, halting just short of the peak. Carefully, Luthica crept up to peer over the top.
Peering with her, Pintail could see on the other side of the valley floor a clearing in the trees, and in the midst of it, an ancient, ruined mansion.
Luthica studied the old house through her binoculars. It was utterly dark, with no signs of life, inside or out. On either side, the approach to it was cut off by a thick expanse of dark trees. The call of a far off owl only served to emphasize its loneliness. Luthica looked at it once more, then handed the binoculars to Pintail.
"It looks abandoned", she said, after studying it for some moments.
"It's supposed to."
"How do you even know about this place?" Pintail asked, handing the binoculars back to Luthica, and making Frett pout, because she hadn't gotten to look.
"The Myo Clan put an informant into one of the Darklore houses . . ."
"The Myo Clan!" Pintail exclaimed.
Luthica smiled wryly.
"You meet a lot of interesting people in the Crux Dungeons . . ."
Pintail frowned
"Anyhow, appearances aside, it will be no good trying to go through the front. The approach is sure to be watched."
Pintail considered.
"Well I don't suppose we can just walk up and knock on the door . . ."
"I know – let's hoist the flag and –"
"NO!" Luthica and Pintail shouted together, making Frett pout again.
"What if we tried to circle around from the back . . .wait – what's that noise?"
Just then, an eerie sound filtered through the trees. Luthica strained her ears, trying to make out what seemed to be the haunting strains of a distant, far off melody.
"It sounds like . . . music –"
"Right this way, ladies. The mistress has been expecting you."
The sound of the voice behind them was enough to make Pintail and Frett nearly jump out of their skin. It belonged to a rather sullen looking woman who was dressed in what appeared to be a cross between a swimsuit and a maid outfit. She wore a dark blue one piece, which would have been modest, except for most of the middle had been cut out of it. Over this she had a white apron, with lines of frills over each shoulder. A crown of ruffled lace sat atop her head. Her skin was pale and fair, but her eyes were hollow. She might have been alluring, were it not for their glazed over look, and her sour expression. When she spoke, her voice seemed to be coming from somewhere very far away.
Without bothering to wait for them, the girl turned, and began to walk away, leaving Luthica, Pintail and Frett to stare after her, wondering exactly who – or *what* - she was. She didn't move with a vampire's supernatural quickness, and she lacked that mesmerizing, unnatural grace that belonged to the children of the night. Instead, her motions were slow, but very precise, almost mechanical. Was she a robot? Or a kind of living doll, whose limbs were animated by some black magic spell? In the manuscripts of the Seekers, there were accounts of such strange things. Perhaps she was a ghoul. Vampires were known at times to keep human slaves to perform menial tasks for them, or to do things during the day, when they were unable to go out. Or perhaps she was a zombie?
While they wondered, the girl turned and called out to them,
"Well, are you coming or not!?"
The three of them exchanged a look, then set off after her.
The girl led them by a back way, down the steep slope of the side of the hill, and along a narrow path that came to an end in front of a large gate. Here she produced a set of keys, and began trying them in the lock one by one. Both the gate and the fence towered over them, being made of tall wooden planks set very closely together, so that it was impossible to see what was on the other side. They appeared to have been very recently made, and their fresh, newly stained appearance seemed altogether at odds with the rest of the mansion.
The girl continued trying keys, muttering some strange incantation over each one followed by a curse when it failed to turn the lock. Finally, she found one that fit. The bolt slid back with an ominous clang, and the gate swung open, seemingly by its own power, making a gap that was just wide enough for them to pass through single file. The girl stepped to the side, and gestured with her arms, apparently wishing that they should enter.
Without hesitating, Luthica boldly strode through, leaving Pintail and Frett clinging to each other as they stared after her, their eyes riveted to the narrow space where they had watched their friend disappear. The prospect of what they might find on the other side was terrifying. But the thought of being left alone in the dark woods, all by themselves (they had already decided that the creepy maid didn't count) was too much to bear, and so, piecing together all of her courage, Pintail swallowed hard, and stepped through, with Frett following closely after her.
The girl waited politely for several seconds before moving to shut the gate, then turning, collapsed against it.
"Ah!" she gasped, throwing her arm up over her forehead. "This job's even worse than the last one! That does it – this weekend, I'm going back to the agency again. These overnight shifts are killing me!"
As she passed through the gate, Pintail had braced herself for anything. She had a special hatred of vampires. As a Knight, she had pledged herself to their destruction, and to this end, she had made a very thorough study of all that could be found in the archives of the Seekers with regards to Vampire societies. She was well acquainted with the catalog of their horrors. And so, when she passed through that gate, she was ready for anything – anything but . . . this?
The music on the other side was deafening. It had been held in partly by the effects of the tall, wooden fence, but mostly by a spell of concealment which had been cast over the entire mansion and its grounds, hiding it so that it existed in its own time and space, separate unto itself. As dark as the approach to it had been, the entire back was brightly lit, so much so that she wondered that they hadn't been able to see the glow from the other side. Perhaps this, too, was an effect of the spell.
Inside of the fence, the whole back yard was one giant patio, most of which was taken up by a large swimming pool, in and around which various scenes were taking place. There were guests milling at the shallow end of the pool, talking, laughing, and wading. Some floated idly on inflatable mattresses, while others lounged nearby on folding plastic chairs. A stand at one end was selling drinks in cocktail glasses, complete with multi colored straws and topped with tiny umbrellas, while servants with trays moved through the crowd, handing out more drinks and taking orders. Apart from the occasional gleam of an exposed fang – and the fact that the contents of every glass were invariably some shade of red – there was nothing to separate this from any other party she had ever seen. Not that being a Knight left a lot of time for going to parties, but still, this is what Pintail imagined they would look like – more or less.
At one end of the pool, some sort of spectacle was taking place, as a girl with a half mask covering her eyes prepared to go off of the diving board. She shouted something to those down below, then jumped. Drawing her knees up to her chin, she made a cannon ball which in turn created a colossal wave, lifting all of the nearby bathers with its passing, and travelling all the way to the edge of the pool, where it brimmed over, dousing an unfortunate blonde woman with a tremendous splash. This provoked an immediate and very angry response, as the surprised victim leapt up from her chair shouting and shaking her fist. The masked culprit doubled over with laughter, then paddled over to the side, splashing and waving amiably, but the offended blonde seized her towel and the book she had been reading and stormed away, dragging the chair after her.
Pintail stared in wonder at these thousand different scenes all around her – but Luthica remained cautious.
"Scardels . . ." she said, recognizing some of the more infamous faces in the crowd. "Be careful. This could get rough."
While the Crescents were known for their obsession with riddles and matters of etiquette, the Scardels preferred games as a way to pass the oceans of time, and most of these took on a decidedly sinister intent.
On the back wall, under a pointed stone archway, was a massive wooden door leading into the rest of the house. Here beside it, on a large wooden chair, sat the Scardel Pinot Noir. Her hair was long and purple, having not yet acquired that deep ruby color that marks the Pinot Elders with the passing of time. But already she was powerful. The Pinot blood lines might not be so long lived as those that slept in the cellars of Bordeaux, but they came into their powers much sooner, and still could go on living for centuries.
She didn't wear a bathing suit, like the rest of the guests, but instead was fully dressed – or what passed for it in Scardel circles. The Scardels as a whole took a dim view of human modesty. They did not share the Crescents' obsession with elaborate costume. To their way of thinking, a body which was neither living nor dead, and no longer suffered the extremes of heat or cold, had little need of covering. Clothes were a human preoccupation, useful when blending in with the human world, or for giving an impression, but little else.
And so Pinot sat sprawled in her own voluptuousness, wearing a red corselet top that was just barely big enough to encircle her chest, passing under her arms to cinch closed in the front with a buckle in the shape of a small brass skull – in case anyone needed reminding that such things were dangerous. Hers was a Burgundian beauty – rich and full – which smiled on excess, and had little use for what it considered the stingy ideals of Bordeaux restraint. Her shoulders were broad and muscular, and her ribs deeply set, while her chest was so ample and generous that it would have made even a Crux Knight proud.
For it was widely held – especially in Crux circles – that one of the special blessings bestowed upon their nation was the particularly buxom quality of their young maidens – and of the Knights in particular. And while this was certainly sometimes true – Luthica being a case in point – it was not always so – Pintail and Frett being two of the unfortunate exceptions. Such theological discussions would have meant little to Pinot Noir, who as she stretched made her red corselet top strain at the seams to contain her.
Pintail thought she looked like a bloated, blood swollen leach, and said so – under her breath of course – but Luthica was more concerned with the large, bat winged sword propped beside her. It was a claymore, a two handed weapon, whose down swept guard had been fashioned to look like a pair of leathery wings. The motif was carried on to the pommel at the bottom of the handle, which was in the shape of a perching bat. The blade glowed red, being made from Talentium mixed with some other, unknown metal. But what concerned Luthica most was the easy, careless way that Pinot regarded it. She seemed very comfortable with the sword, and was no doubt familiar with its use.
At the moment she was sipping something red from a glass – a wineglass by shape, though the idea that the glass contained wine seemed rather dubious. Seeing Luthica with Pintail and Frett in tow didn't seem to faze her. Not bothering to set down her glass, she reached up and waved, flashing them a grin just wide enough to reveal the beginnings of the fangs at the corners of her mouth.
"It would seem we're expected", Luthica said grimly.
"Well well, what an unexpected surprise. We don't get many Crux Knights here. But Mistress welcomes all kinds. I can't imagine what brings you, but pull up a chair, and we'll get you something to drink . . ."
"You know very well why we've come."
"Do I?" Pinot asked.
For a moment Luthica glared at her, imagining a dotted red line where her sword might pass, right through her shoulder, beside her neck, and out the other side again. She could feel her hand tense, and was keenly aware of her own sword, and the position of its handle, as well as Pinot's. There were vampires all around them. Lots of them. Jaina had taught her well, in spite of her later betrayal. It was possible she might have been able to kill them all. But there were Pintail and Frett to consider. They were both capable, and would have joined her without questioning. But in a battle, things might all too easily go in a direction one had not intended. Luthica might have been willing to risk her own life. But the lives of her friends – that was something else. And none of it would have done anything to help Sigma.
So Luthica relaxed her hand. Taking up a wine glass, she traced its rim very deliberately with her finger.
"We have a . . . friend. Someone who's been taken with a very rare affliction . . . A disease –"
"A disease?" Pinot asked, feigning innocence.
"Yes. One which I am sure you are familiar with."
"Is that so?" Pinot said, seeming to lose interest. "Well in that case, perhaps you could ask Sita about it. I heard she cured Vernika nicely –"
"You evil monster!" Pintail shouted. "Sita saved Vernika from a living nightmare!"
The story of how Sita Vilosa had been tricked into using a magical sword that was supposed to cleanse Vernika of her vampirism was well known. But instead of curing her, Vernika had died.
Pinot's face wrinkled as she considered Pintail's insult.
"What would you know about it? It's not like you've ever been dead before. Yes, it hurts, but it's not all that bad. Actually, it's a lot like the first time that you – oh wait, I'm sure that's another experience you haven't had before –"
"Why you undead harlot!" Pintail shouted again, half drawing her sword before Luthica and Frett lunged to restrain her. "As a Knight of Crux my chastity is a point of honor!"
"Sounds complicated", Pinot said, finishing her glass.
"We didn't come here to fight", Luthica said, turning to face her while Pintail continued to struggle.
"Clearly. But I doubt very much that you came to make a deposit at the local blood bank, either, so tell me, why did you come?"
"I came to seek an audience with Iri Flina."
"An audience?" Pinot considered. "You can see Iri", she said, getting up from her chair. "She's inside. But you'll have to go alone. Your friends can wait out here."
"Don't do it Luthica, it's a trap!" Frett shouted, but Luthica remained adamant.
"Fine, I agree."
"And", Pinot added, moving with a supernatural quickness to lay her hand on Luthica's sword, "You'll have to leave this." She moved so fast, she seemed to disappear and then reappear again, right in front them, making Luthica jump. "No one is allowed inside while they're still armed. House rules."
"Luthica, don't!" Pintail pleaded.
Luthica looked grimly at her friend. Then, with great solemnity, she reached for the baldric that held her sword hanging from her shoulder. She brought it up, over her head, then taking the sword still in its sheath, held it out to Pinot.
"Very well. So that you have no doubts about my sincerity."
Pinot marveled, taken a bit aback by this display, but quickly recovered herself.
"You Crux Knights are all much too serious. Iri's inside. I'll keep this here. And I'll try to make sure your friends don't get eaten."
Pintail and Frett stared at Luthica imploringly.
"I'll be fine", she said, glancing at them over her shoulder. "You two try and stay out of trouble. And don't do anything to embarrass us, okay?"
They watched as she turned, and disappeared beneath the point of the stone archway, through the shadowy door into the mansion beyond.
Meanwhile, these goings on had not escaped the notice of a very watchful pair of eyes. They were piercingly red – almost crimson in color – and they belonged to none other than the Scardel Rion Flina. She was dressed in a one piece bathing suit of navy blue, and her dark hair was cut short in a bob. It framed her face, making her already impish features seem, if possible, even more mischievous. An inflatable pink inner tube around her waist, with plastic wings on either side, completed her party attire, and gave her a somewhat festive appearance.
At the moment she was still feeling rather flushed with victory, for she'd had a part in setting up the incident where Viognier had jumped off the diving board and doused the unsuspecting Chardonnay. But as a Scardel, she was always on the lookout for some new mischief to get into, and the sight of Pintail and Frett left wandering alone presented an opportunity that was too good to resist, so she ran all the way around to the other side of the pool to tell her sister about it.
"Oh – oh – oh – oh! Sion! Sion! You won't believe what I just saw!"
"Not now", Sion said crossly.
Sion Flina was sitting in a plastic lounge chair on the far side of the pool, away from the noise of the party, under the shade of a folding umbrella. She too wore a dark blue bathing suit, identical to Rion's, but her hair was long, coming almost to her knees in a graceful sweep of night. A white jacket was draped around her shoulders, and on her face she wore a pair of reading glasses. These last were a bit of human affectation. She didn't need them to see, of course – as a child of the night, her eyes were many times sharper than any human's, and she could see very clearly, even at a great distance. But she'd taken to wearing them at times because she liked the way they looked, and because she thought that they helped her to concentrate.
At the moment she was trying very hard to concentrate on a rather thick and serious looking book – and to ignore Rion.
"But Sion –" Rion protested.
"I told you not now."
"But I –"
"No."
"But they –"
"I'm busy."
"Ugh! You're just as bad as Esprit!" Rion sighed, flopping down in the chair next to her, and touching the back of her hand to her forehead. "The next thing I know, you'll be threatening to hit me with your slipper!"
"I will not!" Sion said, realizing she had just read the same passage for the sixth time, and still didn't know what it said. She leaned up, and took off her reading glasses.
"Now look here, you. I have no desire to get mixed up in any more of your tasteless tricks –"
"Oh boy, here comes the lecture . . ."
"I don't care what sort of pranks you play –"
"Yeah, yeah . . ." Rion rolled her eyes.
"-but from now on, you'll just have to play them by yourself, or find someone else to help you, but I for one –"
Just then Sion caught sight of Pintail and Frett as they wandered by in a daze, looking utterly lost and confused as to where they were or what they should be doing.
Sion slammed her book closed.
"-but just this once I'll make an exception!"
"Heh – heh – heh", Rion chuckled, seeing the change in her sister's expression. "Hey Sion, divide –"
"And conquer!"
"Ugh – such disgusting creatures", Pintail thought, surveying the scene all around her. For as long as she could remember, she had always hated vampires. As a Crux Knight, this was nothing strange – part of the vow that all Knights had to take, after facing Sigma, and before their bestowal of arms, was a solemn pledge to devote themselves to the eradication of the forces of darkness. But for Pintail, it was different. Her loathing had blossomed into a special kind of hatred. She absolutely despised vampires, everything about them – their pale skin, their thin, gaunt appearance (Pinot being an exception, of course), their haughty demeanor, which she considered the height of all arrogance. She hated all of these things, with that perfect hatred that the just feel in regard to the unrighteous. But none of this really explained WHY she hated them. Even Pintail herself didn't seem to know – or to care, for that matter. But if she had to guess, she would have said it must have been something to do with Sovereignty.
As a Knight, she had spent many long hours preparing for the Ordeal, and many more hours since, pulling guard duty in cold castle halls, or standing at attention beside a gate in the hot summer sun, the weight of her armor oppressing her. On cool mornings she could feel it in her knees, and though still a young woman, she knew that, if she lived to be old, she would feel it in the winter, in all of her joints. Of all tasks, being a sentry was the one she most hated. And yet, somehow, through some trick of time, even these moments had become dear to her, like old friends whom she would not abandon.
But for a vampire, there was none of this – only the Dark Gift. And that was what bothered her – that idea of power without effort, and without responsibility. Looking around at the unabashed display of exposed skin, while she stood sweating in her Crux jacket, with a coat of plates hidden underneath as proof against some sneaky sword swipe in the darkness, or the treachery of a dagger – it infuriated her, and she hated them more and more with every passing second.
She was so preoccupied by her own hatred that she did not notice the two diminutive figures approaching until they were right on top of her, and one of them spoke.
"Hey, you – yes - *you*. I'm talking to you."
Pintail looked down at the young waifs who addressed her. There were two of them, both dressed in identical bathing suits. The only way that she could tell them apart was that one of them had long hair, while the other's was cut short. It was the short haired girl who spoke, and she finished her rudeness by holding up the juice box she was carrying and taking a particularly loud and long slurp.
"Who are *you*?" Pintail asked, cocking her hand on her hip. She was in no mood to be trifled with.
At this, the longer haired girl, who up until then had remained perfectly still, came alive. With one long, graceful sweep, which seemed to mimic the flow of her hair, she curtseyed apologetically, and said,
"I'm terribly sorry. I'm the Scardel Sion –"
"And I'm Scardel Rion –"
"- of the House of Flina", they finished together, the sound of their voices speaking at the same time mingling together like the clinking of crystal glasses.
This put Pintail on her guard. The name of Flina was known to her, and the red cast of their eyes, along with the bat shaped mark each bore on her shoulder made it clear that they were something other than human. But the sight of them, bobbing up and down, and bowing apologetically, was more comical than menacing, and so she cocked her hip to the other side, and asked with a tone of dismissal,
"What do you want?"
"We're terribly sorry", Sion said, "but –"
"You can't be out here like that", Rion put in.
"Like what?"
"Like that", Rion said again, finishing her juice box with another especially loud slurp. As she held it, Pintail could see that instead of a flavor, the label listed the contents by blood type, and that this one was type O negative. Really, she wondered, where on earth does one even come up with such things?
"We're sorry", Sion began again, "it's just that –"
"No one's allowed in the pool area without a bathing suit," Rion finished for her. "House rules."
Sion managed an embarrassed smile.
"House rules . . ." she echoed, again curtseying apologetically.
Pintail was at a loss. She looked at Sion, then at Rion, then at Frett, but Frett showed no signs of helping her, so she turned to address Sion and Rion again.
"Now look here, you – we didn't come here for any party –"
"I'm terribly sorry, but –"
"We'll only be here for a minute –"
"Yes, but –"
"We are *Knights of Crux*, here on *special business* –"
Frett reached into her pack, and readied her flag.
The words, "Knights of Crux", echoed through the sudden silence that fell just in time for everyone around the pool to turn and stare at the four of them. Sion lowered her eyes, and held her hands up pleadingly.
"I'm very sorry, it's just that mistress is very strict about these sorts of things, and –"
"She beats us", Rion said.
"She beats you!?"
"Yes . . . with her slipper."
Pintail and Frett exchanged a look.
"Sion, I don't want to get hit with a slipper again", Rion said plaintively, losing all of her former arrogance.
"Don't worry, Rion. If it comes to that, I shall go and apologize for the both of us –"
"Now hold on a minute", Pintail said. She couldn't help feeling at least a *little* bit sorry for them – even if they were blood sucking monsters. And Luthica had given strict orders that they were not to make a scene. "There must be something we can do."
Sion considered. Rion spoke.
"Hmm. I have an idea . . . Be right back!" she shouted, before disappearing off into a clump of nearby trees, leaving Pintail and Frett to stare after her.
"Rion can be a bit much at times", Sion said apologetically, her words tinged with a hint of warmth that Pintail had not expected from such a creature. She was interrupted by a sudden shriek, which Pintail could only hope had nothing to do with them.
" – but she means well. She has a good heart."
Pintail regarded her wonderingly. Her smile was unfeigned – though mixed with a hint of sadness.
Just then there came a second shriek, followed by a rustle, as Rion re-emerged from the bushes.
"Ta-da!" she shouted, holding her prize up in the air. "These ought to do nicely! I just hope they fit –"
"Wait, are those –"
"E-y-a-a-a-h-h-h !"
"Oh, it's not that bad", Rion chided confidently, while looking over her shoulder to see if she had been followed.
"I think they're a perfect fit", Sion added.
Pintail cowered behind the palm trees. She was bent over, with one arm drawn across her chest, and her other elbow pressed between her thighs. She glanced over at Frett, whose knees were also shaking, and then looked back down at her own chest. Carefully she drew back her arm, as though she feared to see a mortal wound.
"I went with blue and white, because I thought that would make you more comfortable", Rion said, her voice surprisingly sympathetic.
Pintail studied the results of the mischievous urchin's exploits. The bikini top had been made in two pieces, braided together, so that the cup on one side was blue, while the other side was starkly white. The bottom was of a similar design, also being of two pieces woven together, which tied nicely over either hip. It was the sort of thing that would have looked dashing on someone like Luthica, whose generous proportions would have been able to make the most of such a garment. With a sigh, Pintail lamented her own figure, then turned to see how Frett was doing.
She too had gotten braver, and was looking down at her own suit, a rather smart looking one piece, made of several panels stitched together. In its simplicity it had its own quiet sophistication about it. Pintail thought it gave her a rather commanding appearance, and that if she only had a whistle to go with it, she could have easily been taken as the life guard on duty. Frett was busy considering the color of the fabric – it was almost the right shade to be regulation Crux blue – and she wondered whether or not it would be good flag making material.
Pintail's silent contemplations were shattered by a sudden realization.
"How come I'm the only one in a string bikini!?"
"Because she – I mean it – was the only one that was your size!" Rion hastily corrected herself, looking over her shoulder again as though she still expected some sort of trouble.
"Here, let me help you with that", Sion said, seeing Frett was struggling to adjust one of her shoulder straps.
"You wait here", Rion said, turning to follow the two of them back into the pool house.
Pintail scowled at being told what to do. If for no other reason than sheer defiance, she decided she would go and wait on the other side of the pool.
"How do I get myself mixed up in these sorts of things", she grumbled, not paying any particular attention to where she was, or where she was going.
"Drink, miss?" one of the servants asked, lowering a tray.
Without thinking, Pintail took a glass and sipped from it, then exploded in a series of gagging and sputtering, before she realized that it contained only lemonade. She checked the contents, half of which she'd spilled on herself, just to be sure, but found they were as pink as her own hair. Not a drop of red.
"Whew!" she sighed in relief. She took up a position where she could see the entrance to the pool house clearly, and waited for Frett to emerge.
"What's taking her so long?" she wondered, starting to get worried. She hadn't sensed any evil intent from Sion or Rion, which surprised her under the circumstances, but they were still far behind the lines, and deep within enemy territory, after all.
"I hope Luthica is all right", she thought, as she crouched down beside the pool. As it dried, the lemonade had gotten sticky, and so she bent down to rinse her hands, and to splash water on her side.
As she was washing, a lone figure emerged from the pool, rising from the depths as if from a watery tomb. Her hair was long and dark, hanging down in dripping sheets, while her skin was pale, like the glow of the moon. There was something terrible about her aspect, as though the angel of night had descended to trouble the waters with a midnight swim, but when she moved, Pintail could see on the inside of her thigh the mark of a black bat, and knew that this was no angel, but rather one of night's other children.
Still, she seemed different from the others somehow. Perhaps this was because she wasn't a Scardel. Iri's birthright was a damnable one, even by vampire standards, but it meant she owed no particular allegiances to either of the great houses, and left her free to choose both Crescents and Scardels as her friends.
The dark visitor was dressed modestly in a red suit which had been cleverly crafted to look like an evening gown. Her hair was held back by a beret of the same color, set with several bows made from a ribbon whose edges had been scalloped out to suggest the shape of the wings of a bat. The ghostly apparition lingered for some moments beside the water, then climbed out, smoothing her skirt and wringing her hair to get rid of the excess water.
She then made her way over to one of the pool chairs. Here she took a towel and dried herself, dabbing carefully at each ear, then took a bottle of lotion and smoothed it over her skin, covering both her arms and legs, as well as her face and the exposed part of her chest. Lastly, she took up a pair of glasses with dark lenses, unfolding them carefully, and put them on, before lying back in the chair. She lay still, with that uncanny, corpselike stillness which can only be maintained by the members of the undead.
Pintail stared at all these motions, whose purpose would have been self-evident if they had been undertaken by the light of day, but which seemed utterly ridiculous here at night. Was this some sort of play acting? Or memories of a past life, intruding on this present unlife of the undead? Perhaps all the deeds of the dead were a kind of sleepwalking, wherein they carried out again the deeds of their former selves in the eternal sleep of the grave. Pintail shuddered at the thought, sure that if she became a ghost, most of her haunting would consist of class drills and guard duty.
She wondered if the dead missed their time among the living, and perhaps soothed themselves with a pantomime of their previous lives. Who knew? Perhaps the apparition was mocking her. Was this whole show being put on for her benefit? Or at her expense? At last, she could take it no more.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, finding her voice louder and sterner than she'd intended.
"Um – moonbathing?" the girl answered her, half sitting up, and turning to look at her over the shades of her darkened glasses. She didn't seem annoyed at Pintail's question so much as confused, as though the answer should have been obvious.
"A vampire's skin is much too delicate for the sun", Sion put in, startling Pintail by her sudden appearance right behind her.
"We'd be burned to a crisp!" Rion said, appearing from the other side, and bringing Frett along with her. Her voice was alarmingly cheerful for such a horrible thought.
"Sadly it's true", Sion lamented. "For all of the things the stories get wrong, this is one thing that they got right. A vampire simply cannot withstand the sun. Though there are a few exceptions . . ."
"So do you actually get a tan?" Frett asked, much to Pintail's annoyance. There was something about the sound of Sion and Rion's voices, and the way they mixed together, that gave her a headache.
"Oh no! Not at all! When a vampire bathes beneath the moon –"
"Her skin gets –"
"Paler –"
"And paler!" Sion and Rion finished with a laugh, their voices ringing as they giggled together.
Pintail sighed as she put her hand to her forehead.
"Oh, what are *you* complaining about?" Rion said, catching her by the arm, then turning to Sion, who eyed her critically. "She'd actually be a good candidate for it –"
"Candidate for what!?"
"Indeed", Sion answered, considering. "She's got the right skin type. She should try it –"
"You should try it", Rion relayed, as if Pintail couldn't hear their conversation.
"You should try it!" they both echoed together.
"Try what?" Pintail asked nervously, as Sion eyed her closely. Rion slipped behind.
"W-a-u-g-g-h-h-h !"
"Oh, you'll be fine", Sion said, as Rion pulled her over backwards.
"Aligote!" Rion called, addressing the dark angel in the red dress, "Do you mind if we borrow your lotion?"
Aligote shook her head that she did not mind, and held out the bottle, only too glad to surrender it if it meant that Sion and Rion would leave her alone. As a Crescent, she wanted no part of this Scardel nonsense.
"SPF 1000!?" Pintail read on the bottle as Sion turned her over. "Where did you get this stuff? We could use something like this when we do maneuvers at the bea – a-a-h-h-h!" she shouted, as Rion squeezed a stream of lotion out on her back. "It's cold!"
"Sorry", Sion said, looking down at her sympathetically. Rion busied herself with using the lotion to try to draw the shape of a bat.
"I was talking about your hands!"
"Can't be helped", Sion answered, spreading the lotion mercilessly.
"We are dead, after all!" Rion added cheerfully.
With a stealthy pull, Sion undid the strings that held the bikini top closed.
"Hey!"
"Don't be shy", Rion teased.
"You don't want to get pale lines, do you?" Sion asked.
"Pale lines?" Pintail said, lowering herself to protect her modesty.
"Tch!" Rion said, turning to survey Frett critically. "I'm afraid there's not much hope for you." She studied the color of Frett's skin, which was a deep peach color. "Still, it's good for the complexion", she added, seeing Frett's disappointment. Reaching up, she pulled her down by the shoulders.
"Lie still", she said, taking a pair of cucumber slices she'd managed to steal from Aligote's tray, and putting them over Frett's eyes. She then took the bottle of lotion, and worked it liberally across her face, paying special attention to her cheeks and forehead. The strategy worked. Frett closed her eyes tightly, feeling the tingling and smelling the fumes.
"Don't rub them", Rion cautioned her. "This stuff burns something terrible if you get it under your eyelid."
Seeing Frett thus subdued, she stealthily reached for her bag, and began to rummage through the contents. With glee, she caught sight of the Crux flag, perfectly folded into a neat triangle. Tugging carefully, she pulled one corner loose and began to draw it out, then looked over at Sion, who nodded approvingly.
"Hey, what's going on?" Pintail asked, sensing something amiss.
Sion pushed her down forcefully.
"You wouldn't want someone to see, would you?" she asked.
Pintail buried herself into the towel.
Rion grinned. Moving quickly, she made short work, spreading the beautiful blue and white flag on the ground, and then eased Frett down onto it.
"Where did you get this towel?" Frett asked, feeling instantly enveloped with a sense of warmth. "It's so soft . . ."
"Mistress has always been the kind to spare no expense", Rion said, standing up and taking several steps back.
"Speaking of which, there's something we must attend to", Sion said, slipping away to stand beside Rion. "The two of you wait here, and let one of the servants know if you need anything. We'll be back shortly."
With that, the two retreated a short ways off, and surveyed their work. Rion held up her hand with a giggle. Sion high-fived it approvingly.
"Mission –"
"-accomplished!"
" . . . very well. I give you my word."
Iri smiled, the sharp line of her toothy grin visible beneath the low hanging spikes of her silver hair.
"Then it's settled. I'll make the necessary arrangements."
"You should know that I speak only for myself. I can make no guarantees about anyone else."
"The word of a Crux Knight is good enough for me", Iri answered, bowing with a great formality that showed the Crescent half of her upbringing. "And if that Knight happens to be Luthica Preventer, Second Knight of the Realm – second only to Jaina . . . then so much the better."
Luthica wasn't sure if Iri's words were meant as a compliment, or an insult. At the moment, she didn't much care. She bowed formally in return, a very polite, courtly bow, and then turned, and took her leave.
She was glad to leave the mansion behind, with its foul, miasmatic air, heavy with a century of darkness. The night was bright by comparison. Pinot seemed startled by the sudden opening of the door, and it was with dawning realization that Luthica looked at her, and grasped that just as the outside of the mansion and its grounds were protected by a spell, so too the inside must have been under some similar enchantment. Otherwise, with her supernaturally sharpened senses, Pinot would surely have heard her approach.
For a moment the two regarded one another, both equally uncertain. Then Luthica reached out, and with one hand snatched up her sword. Pinot flashed a toothy smile, watching her depart before settling down in her chair again, and pouring herself another drink.
"Plans within plans", Luthica said to herself, "and spells within spells. Iri Flina is most formidable. I'll have to –"
What she saw next made her stop short.
There by the pool were Pintail and Frett, sprawled out sunning themselves in the sunless night. Frett was lying on the Crux flag, her arms stretched out beside her, with a pair of cucumber slices over her eyes. Pintail lay a short ways off, face down on one of the folding pool chairs, topless.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING !?" Luthica roared, once she'd recovered the ability to speak.
Pintail looked up sheepishly, moving her hand to cover the spilt treasures of her bosom.
"Um . . . moonbathing?
Frett sat up, removing the cucumber slice from one eye, then recoiled in horror as she saw the true nature of the soft blue carpet spreading beneath her.
" . . . the ground!" she stammered, moving frantically to gather up her beloved flag. "It can never touch the ground!" She repeated over and over again, as though she'd lost the ability to say anything else.
While Frett carried on, Luthica turned her attention to Pintail.
Pintail's skin may have gotten paler, but at that moment, her face was a very bright red. It contrasted nicely with the pink color of her hair, spreading down her neck, and even into her shoulders and the top of her chest, which she was still straining to cover, pressing herself down into the chair as if she meant to become one with it.
Luthica flamed with rage.
"Get up", she said, her voice low and even as it came between her clenched teeth. She showed an impressive degree of restraint – only the wild look in her eyes gave any hint of how angry she was.
Pintail looked up at her fearfully.
"But I'll –"
"I don't care."
"But someone will –"
"Move."
Pintail hung her head. She lifted herself slowly, cringing as she felt the towel peeling away from her skin, and lowering her arm in an effort to hide herself.
Just then, twin peals of identical laughter rang out from a clump of nearby trees. Looking, she could see Sion and Rion, pointing and giggling.
"Oh my –" Sion said, pretending to be shocked. "I had no idea Crux Knights were so immodest –"
"All that fighting makes them coarse", Rion answered smugly.
"How lewd." Sion agreed.
"It's obscene."
"Why you –"
Pintail shook her fist angrily, but this had a very marked effect upon her bosom, and threatened to betray her remaining modesty, so all she could do was scowl as the two whistled and waved to her, taking turns high fiving each other and giving the victory sign.
"You two couldn't stay out of trouble for one hour!?" Luthica berated them, once they were several miles away, and safely outside the range of even supernatural hearing. "Not one hour!?"
"But Luthica", Frett pleaded.
"Don't you 'but Luthica' me!"
"At least let us put our clothes on", Pintail said, shuddering in her borrowed bikini underneath her Crux jacket.
"No!"
"But at this rate, we'll catch cold . . ."
"You should have thought of that before you went prancing around half naked! Luthica huffed, driving them on mercilessly. She seemed intent on marching them all the way back to the Training Grounds in their present condition. Pintail shuddered again, partly from the cold, and partly from the thought of the sun coming up just in time to expose them to the full view of the class at morning roll call.
But eventually, after another mile or so of Pintail's shivering, and Frett's teeth chattering, Luthica relented, and suffered them to turn aside, and go some ways off of the forest road. Here she hung Frett's flag between two trees (careful not to let it touch the ground), so that it would shield them from the view of any travelers or chance passers by.
If anyone had been out that evening, they would have seen quite a sight – that of two Crux Knights changing, their fair, maidenly forms silhouetted against the flag by the light of the full moon as it set behind them. But thankfully (or sadly, depending on your point of view), there was no one there to see. Only the call of the far off owl greeted them again, indifferent to the spectacle taking place in the forest below. A few moments, and they were back on their way again, and no one but Luthica and the owl were the wiser.
But meanwhile, in another part of the world, other powers were moving . . .