Turel was running low on Dragon Blood powder. The vampire lord turned over the glass vial that should have contained the red powder and watched as a few last grains trickled onto his palm. Nothing else was left. It was empty; it should not have been empty. Turel flicked the powder off of his hand, recapped the empty glass vial and turned to look at his workshop set out before him. He was standing in a large circular room, a desk running around the edge of the walls that held on it books, vials and containers holding liquids that he had been working on for a while. An iron candelabrum gave light in the room and through the glass dome that was the roof, Turel could see the moon up above.
It was half-full, and he was supposed to complete his spell during the half-moon phase. There was no other time to complete this spell.
And now without any Dragon Blood powder; he would not be able to cast that magic spell he had been preparing for. Crossing the room to where the Clan Lord held more of his potions in a cabinet, Turel opened it to see if perhaps he did perhaps have a little powder left, in case a situation like this ever arose. What he received was a shock. His potions and powders, usually arranged in alphabetically and kabalistic order, were instead scattered all over the shelves. The vampire picked up the jar containing Moon Dust and placed it back on the highest shelf, then took down the Good Luck potion and placed it on the bottom where it was originally suppose to be. The jars, which had been filled the last time he had checked, were now half-empty. No one but Turel went through this cabinet; his other brothers as a strict rule left his magics alone. Of course, there was that one exception to the rule...
The Clan Lord looked back up at the moon and grew slightly pensive. He would have to wait a whole other month now before he could finish was he had started, and all because someone had been a little greedy with his things. Striding back across the chamber, Turel drew aside a curtained portion of his workshop and entered into a smaller, more out of the way room. It was a small and cramped space, holding racks of books and scrolls that he had collected ever since he had first begun to study the arcane sciences. Perhaps there was a different ingredient he could use over Dragon's Blood.
Then he heard it.
A faint click from the doorknob, signaling that someone was entering his tower chamber, made Turel stand still. His ears were slightly longer than his siblings; hence his hearing was far superior to their own. Perhaps the person was the culprit who had been making a mess of his shelves and stealing his ingredients. Sliding over to the curtain, Turel's yellow eyes peered around the opening to see who it was exactly that had come calling at such a late hour.
Clara stepped into the room slowly, one hand holding the doorknob while the other held a small lantern. She flashed the light from side to side, and then seeing that candles had already been lit in the room, extinguished her own flame. The girl looked like she was ready to run; a guilty expression was written across her face as if she would suddenly be caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Turel gave a quiet snicker. Thirteen years old and still scared to enter her uncle's laboratory.
Well ever since she had learned that mixing mercury and sulpher together could give a potent explosion at the age of thirteen, Clara had been wary around his things. And there was no doubt about it, the vampire lord thought; Clara was the little thief who had been going through his things. Turel came to this very simple answer as he saw Clara quickly cross the room, her green dress' hem silently brushing the floor, and open up the cabinet door. She took down a few powders and one potion, looking at them quickly in the light, then pocketed them in the decorative pouch around her waist and turned to leave.
Turel let her get to the center of the room, directly underneath the glass dome, when he made his presence known. "So you were the one misplacing my possessions. I take it you also helped yourself to a large share of Dragon's Blood powder too then, am I right?" Clara literally screamed and jumped up into the air, then vainly tried to catch the vials that fell out of her grasp. She managed to snatch two out of the air, but the potion, a bit of Nightshade Extract, fell quickly to the stone floor and shattered. Even Turel, for all of his vampiric alacrity, would not have been able to catch it. Clara looked at her uncle with embarrassment and shame across her face, cheeks turning a bright red, and Turel gave his niece an equally crossed look, arms folded across his chest.
"I'm sorry?" Was all she could offer to him. She brushed a strand of her long hair out of her face, then made it a point not to look her uncle in the eye.
"And why," Turel said slowly, "did you simply not ask me for some of these items instead of being a little thief, Clara?" Turel plucked the vials out of her hands and placed them down on the desk, making sure that they would not roll off the edge and shatter. He then raised one eyebrow and looked at Clara, waiting for a very good answer.
She wrung her hands together, her eyes fixed upon the mess on the floor. "I didn't think you would give me any, uncle Turel. Father always says that you guard your magic closely and ever since that one time I accidentally blew up your workshop and burnt some of your books, you would say no to me no matter what. So I decided that if I took a little at a time, and then brought it back quickly, that you would not notice it in the least. And now I'm blabbering and I don't want you to tell my father. I'll clean up this mess but please don't tell my father. He'll punish me." Clara fixed her uncle with a desperate gaze, hands clasped together. She could still pull off that innocent look, one that made everything seem easy. Turel also knew that he was an easy victim for that pitiful expression and shook his head.
"Why did you need my things?"
"For my spells," Clara answered, nudging a piece of broken glass with her toe. "It's the half-moon and I needed some things to complete my circle."
"Oh, and just what were you casting?" Turel placed a talon underneath her chin and raised Clara's face until her eyes met his. "I'm interested to know."
"A good luck spell for my friend. He said that his luck was bad so I decided to remedy it for him. I did take some Dragon's Blood. But I could buy some more for you. I'll refill your stocks personally, uncle Turel. I promise!" That desperate look was back in his niece's eyes; she would do almost anything to get back into his good graces.
Turel shook his head. "I am afraid that acquiring some of my...ingredients are very hard. Some can only be found during specific times of the year, Clara. And others can be found only at the human Citadel. Like the Dragon's Blood. And it is not cheap, either. I mean, money is not a problem for me but it is difficult getting such a thing to begin with."
Clara clapped her hands suddenly and smiled. "Then I will simply go to the Citadel and get you the things that you need. It should not be all that difficult for me, uncle Turel." Turel's face turned into something akin to chagrin. With Clara saying that, it was like she was saying she would jump into the Abyss and come back bearing gifts of gold and silver.
"You will do no such thing, Clara. You have never been to the Citadel; you do not know how those humans act. All your life you have lived here in the vicinity of the Clans lands. I forbid it." And then Turel saw it. That slight pout that came to Clara's lips when she had silently made up her mind and no amount of talking, cajoling or outright fighting could convince her otherwise. She would go to the Citadel one way or another, no matter what. "I know what you are thinking." He pointed a finger at her. "The moment my back is turned, you will simply go just to prove your point. Well I won't have it. It anything, you shall be accompanying me to the Citadel."
"What?" Clara looked at her uncle, not truly understanding what Turel had just said.
Turel nodded. "You heard me. Tonight is lost, tomorrow is still not here. Come back here tomorrow night then, Clara. Tell your father that I wish to show you the stars or something like that; make up a slight lie. Then come here and together we will go to the Citadel." And, the vampire thought silently, to think that you unknowingly forced me into this position.
Clara giggled and hugged her uncle. "Thank you, uncle Turel, thank you. I promise you, you will not regret it."
"I am beginning to already."
Turning on the small flame in her lantern, Clara turned to go with a joyous face. "I will not tell my father. It will be our little secret then, right?"
The Clan Lord nodded. "Yes, our secret. Tell no one." Turel tapped his nose and gave a wink. Clara closed the door behind her and for a moment, Turel felt very ancient. He brushed a hand through his long ponytail and looked up at the moon. Already it was beginning to wan in the night sky. Dawn would soon be coming. The mage closed one of the tooled leather tomes that he had, sighing morosely. It seemed that his love spell would have to wait until next month, then. And he only hoped in that time nothing else happened that he could not handle.
* * * *
"I require three jars of the Dragon's Blood, as well as two wax statues. No, the ones of the far right, one shelf above you. Yes, those are the ones." Turel stood calmly by the counter as the human clerk, a round and balding man dressed in black wool and an apron, reached up to grasp the items the Clan Lord had asked for. Had the storeowner known the true nature of the well-dressed customer in front of him, then the chances of him actually selling his wares, let alone be of a reasoned and sound mind, would never happen. As the human placed the wax statues, one in the shape of a dragon and the other in the shape of a unicorn, down on the counter and then reached back to pluck the Dragon's Blood from the shelf.
The power of the transformation spell Turel had used upon himself had changed the Clan Lord wholly; while his height remained the same as before as well as his powerful built, Turel's skin no longer held a deathly pallor but was instead flushed. If someone were to touch the sorcerer they would not feel cold flesh but warmth emanating from him instead. Turel's eyes no longer held the telltale vampire gold colour; the irises were now a light gray, the same shade that storm clouds held. Dressed in simply robes, a velvet green cloak hanging off his shoulders with the hood placed over his head, Turel did indeed held the guise of the mage well. Looking around the small magic shop, located within the very heart of Citadel, the vampire wondered idly if he could in some small way, convince this human to move his livelihood over to the Turelim Clan holdings. It would make things much easier for the Clan and its children.
Along both walls and at the front of the shop were bookshelves filled with scrolls, notes and other manuals that the vampire lord already owned. Positioned within glass cases that stood on wooden stands were small crystals, glass orbs that when held in the light one could see into the supposed future. Clara, clothed in a black satin gown and a red cloak, her hair tied into a multitude of small braids, was leaning intently over one of the cases, her face nearly pressed up against the glass as she strained to see the fine detail in an enchanted pendant. Just having stepped into a shop owned by a human and not by a vampire had been nearly overwhelming to the young girl.
Turel well remembered how excited Clara had been when she had come to see him the following evening. Animated and wound as tightly as a spring she had giggled with delight as she and her uncle had finally set out from the Turelim region, the two had arrived at the Citadel a little after the moon had risen. The guards had thought nothing of letting two people into the fortress city who claimed citizenship with the city of Freeport; after all they were humans. After all the humans had to work together to overcome their seemingly immediate annihilation. After entering under the double portcullis that was the only entrance and exit of the Citadel, Clara had quickly pulled back the hood of her cloak to see the Citadel.
Walking down avenues where humans freely conversed; women speaking freely with their friends after placing the children to bed, the men coming back from the Watch or the forges, and adolescents running along with their friends, Clara watched with a mixture of fear and curiosity. A baker was closing up for the coming night and the dressmaker's shop's windows were already darkened. A young mother with her infant was drawing a bucket of water from a fountain carved out of the fortress walls. So this was how humans behaved. The way they lived their lives in the shadow of the vampire menace was not as different as the way the vampires lived.
"Uncle," Clara said in a hushed voice, not using his name "was this where my human mother came from? I know that I am not a vampire, and I love my father with all my heart, but do you believe that if I was not his daughter that I would have grown up here instead?"
Turel, who had been holding Clara's hand tightly as the duo had quickly walked through the streets, was startled for a moment by the simplicity and the complexity in his niece's questions. She gave a meditative look towards him, waiting for his answer. The second-born stared off into the distance as he turned a corner with Clara, not truly looking where he was going but knowing by instinct the path towards the magic shop he frequented.
"I do not know," he responded lamely. "Your mother could have come from the servants, from the Citadel, or from one of the human cities that have not fallen to Lord Kain. But does that really matter to you, Clara? You have us as your family. A loving father, five uncles who would do almost anything for you, a grandfather that-"
Clara sighed heavily. "I know that uncle, but do you think I would have grown up differently had I been raised here instead of with my father?"
The vampire lord had quickened his steps as Clara had been speaking, causing her to walk faster if she did not want to be dragged. Turel knew what he was really doing: purposefully avoiding the subject. Why was Clara now entertaining such thoughts? Did she not realize just how lucky she had been, that she was elevated a rank above these petty mortals? Trying to make his niece see such things would take time, and Turel at the moment did not have time. He never wanted to make the time for such questions, questions that should never be asked to begin with in the Clan Lord's view. "Look Clara," he said quickly, "there is the magic shop."
Now, with the shopkeeper paid and his ingredients bought, Turel was ready to head back to the safety and sanctity of his own territory. Having been around so many humans, the scent of their warm flesh carried on the breeze to him had been nothing but torture to the Clan Lord. A vampire losing control was a terrible thing to behold, but succumbing to the bloodlust with so many humans around...Turel knew that even a son of Kain would have difficulty escaping unscathed.
Coming out of his musings the disguised vampire then realized that Clara was not in the shop.
Heart beating quickly, Turel quickly wrenched the door of the shop open and walked out onto the street, trying not to let his rising panic overtake him. A quick glance to the right, a furtive glimpse to the left revealed nothing. The streets were completely empty with only two lanterns providing illumination, the light reflecting off of the stone streets. Night had fallen fully now, Turel's breathing came fast in his chest. Clara had simply vanished from her uncle's side, intent on seeing the Citadel on her own and without him by her side. The Clan Lord's first thought was to find his niece, and his second thought was that if he did not find her, then he would never step a foot inside the Clan Melchiahim holdings again. Melchiah might be the weakest of the Lieutenants, but even he was a terror to behold when he was angered. Holding his packages under one arm; Turel began to walk the streets of the Citadel trying to pick up his niece's scent. Using vampiric magic here might alert the human mages, and calling out the girl's name would provide unwanted attention.
"Then I will have to find her the old-fashioned way," Turel growled under his breath. Coming to the decision that Clara had most likely walked down the street to the left, Turel followed and hoped that his intuition was right. In a few long strides he had come to the corner and to an intersection. He then paused, sniffing the air for Clara's scent, the smell of her blood that separated her from the other humans.
The Clan Lord continued up the road.
Soon Turel's heightened senses became aware of something else besides Clara's scent. A sharp and pungent odor filled the air; it teased at his mind. Turel had smelled something like this before, not many years ago. It stirred memories that he had tried to forget. A whiff of smoke, the burned aroma of wood, charred flesh...the vampire's eyes, grew wide in panic.
A burning, there was a public burning going on in the Citadel. Humans did not burn their own kind; they hung them instead. Burnings were only given out to vampires...or vampire followers.
"No, no, no, no!" Turel's voice was nothing more than a choked whisper. He dropped his packages, never hearing the glass shattered on the cobblestones, as he literally became a blur of motion, darting with the speed only a vampire could possess towards the smell of burning wood and charred flesh. Images began to flash through his mind at what had happened, of what already could have happened! If anything had happened to Clara, if those dirty humans had laid one foul hand upon her innocent body, Turel vowed he would destroy this Citadel with his own talons and magic. He could feel his black heart pounding with rage barely suppressed; red clouded his vision and the Clan Lord flexed his magically altered hands.
The humans would pay!
The street emptied out onto the wide plaza where, in the center on a raised scaffold, was a body tied to a stake that had been driven into the ground. Flames licked and snapped at the wood, and the shadowy figure was writhing as the fire crawled up their form. The person was the same size as Clara, and the shrieks that pierced the air, screams of pain and agony over the roar of the crowd, sounded like it was Turel's beloved niece. The humans screamed out obscenities at the burning victim, shouting out their collective hate and hurling insults into the flames. His legs felt like water, the world swam in Turel's eyes. Reaching out to steady himself against a empty vendor's stand, the mighty vampire lord sank to his knees as he looked up at the burning pyre.
"Clara," he gasped as a tight pain filled his chest, making it hard to breath. "Clara..." What would he do now, what could he do now? She was burning; Clara was burning. A black rage swept over the second-born of Kain, a wave that would consume him and Turel would gladly accept oblivion for the strength it offered his agony. He would take his nothingness and shatter these humans, toss their bodies up against the walls and watch their weak bodies break. Their lives would become a living nightmare without end. Turel would justify Clara's death with those of all the men, women and children living in the Citadel...
"Uncle Turel! Uncle Turel!"
Clara's voice pierced through Turel's void, bringing him back to the world. His head snapped up, eyes looking throughout the crowd of humans for her. There she was, running towards him with tears running down her face. Dropping to her knees beside her uncle, either not seeing or not noticing the look of relief that lit up his features, Clara wrapped her arms around him and began to sob. Shudders wracked her small form as Clara tried to quiet her sobs inside her uncle's cloak.
"They're – the humans are b-burning a vampire! You have to help him, uncle Turel. You have to help him!" A howl swept over the plaza, the source coming from the vampire's burned and blackened throat. Clara gave Turel a hopeful look, her eyes pleading with him. "Please help him!"
"You are alright, Clara? Did those humans touch you? Tell me!" Turel grasped his niece by her shoulders and shook her quickly, trying not to feed his quickly diminishing panic and tension into her. The young girl shook her head, a few braids falling over her eyes.
"No, I just wandered off uncle Turel. Please forgive me but you have to save him!" She pointed a quivering finger back towards the smoldering vampire. By now the pyre was completely ablaze, the shadows cast by the flames making the humans seem grotesque and monstrous in the red light. The vampire had ceased in his futile struggles; he had stopped struggling altogether. Smoke billowed upwards into the night sky, obscuring the moon.
Turel quickly rose to his feet, pulling Clara up with him. "There is nothing I can do, Clara. He is dead. We have to leave now."
"They – they killed him," she declared quietly in an accusing voice. Clara was still crying but she seemed to not notice the tears anymore. "He was trying to leave; he talked to me and they killed him. Because of what he was. I hate them. I hate the humans. I HATE THE HUMANS!" Clara shrieked the last words to the crowd, who was beginning to disperse; her hands balled into fists and her face an unwholesome shade of red. Turel clamped a hand over his niece's mouth and dragged her into the shadow of an alley. Already the Clan Lord could feel the effects of his magical spell over himself beginning to weaken. Before his eyes, now once again the metallic gold that all vampires possessed, Turel saw his hands change back into the talons they were.
Clara struggled against her uncle's grasp, kicking and pounding him with all the rage she had within her. Unable to break the hold on her, finally drained by what she had seen, Clara slumped against Turel's form and began to cry again. "It is not fair, it is not fair. That vampire was just trying to leave the Citadel. He told me he was trying to leave, that he had escaped the dungeons. He was," she hiccupped, "he seemed kind enough to me."
"We're going home Clara," Turel brushed her hair back from her face with one talon. "It would be better that you did not tell your father of what you have seen. For your safety." She nodded mutely, and then taking her uncle's hand, was led willingly out of the Citadel under the cover of shadows.
* * * *
"I never understood why Clara was so silent in that time," Melchiah quietly spoke. "I thought at first it was I that had done something to anger her, or one of her friends. Now that I know the truth, I am glad that could be laid to rest. Did you ever find out what clan that vampire came from, Turel?"
The mage shook his head. "For all I know, he could have been a rogue from the swamps. You know how it is, that some vampires create others without our consent and as such, have to abandon the fledglings to save their own necks."
"My child was so changed after that. Whenever the humans were mentioned in her presence, Clara would immediately fly into a rage or stare off into the distance in a brooding silence. She never seemed to smile again, or when she did it never reached her eyes like before. Because of you she lost her innocence." Melchiah felt something akin to disappointment as he stared at Turel, one of the few siblings that he thought he could actually trust. "I do not know if I should hate you for what you did to Clara, or look at you in disgust."
Turel rose quickly, not looking at Melchiah. In a voice tinged with anger the Clan Lord countered, "Now you see why I kept secret and silent for so long. If I had told you, or if Clara had uttered a word of her excursion to the Citadel, then what would you have done Melchiah? What conclusion would you have jumped to?"
"I would have seen to it that you would have kept your distance from my child, that you were a contaminating influence on her." Melchiah stood and glared at Turel. "I would have attacked you and then...then I would have-"
"You wanted the truth and I gave you the truth, brother! Do not hate me for what now lies in the past!"
Melchiah knew he was shouting, raising his voice to be heard over Turel's booming tone. "And I would have still condoned you all the same! Turel-"
"Well, it seems for once this is an argument that I in no way instigated," a sly voice said quietly; with the words came a calming effect as both Turel and Melchiah looked to see who the new visitor was. Already in the chamber, leaning up against one wall with his eyes closed and arms folded over his chest, was Zephon. His very presence caused the two to halt their verbal battle, neither looking at the other.
"I have to leave," Turel muttered. Drawing his clan cape over his shoulder the second-born left the room as quietly as he had entered; by the way he hunched his shoulders around him Melchiah could see that his words had stung Turel a great deal. Dropping back down onto the bed, feeling defeated, Melchiah did not even wish to ask Zephon what he was doing in his Clan Holdings. The fifth-born rarely left his Cathedral, but when he did he was usually up to no good.
"Let me guess: Clara." Zephon saw Melchiah flinch at the very name.
"Who else. How much did you hear from Turel?"
"Oh, I heard enough, and I can well remember those days when Clara was not quite the same person. Innocence lost, never to regain, but then sooner or later Melchiah she would have lost it. She was growing up," Zephon mused.
The sixth-born clasped his talons together. "If I had had it my way, I would have ensured Clara would have remained young forever."
Zephon chuckled. "Oh, did we not all wish to have that? The mood in here needs to be lightened somewhat. I have a humorous story about Clara, if you want to hear it. If not, then I can just as easily take my leave from you." He made a move towards the door, but Melchiah stopped him with a look.
"Please, I want to hear it. It seems the more I hear from my brothers the less I knew about my child," he said dejectedly.
"No, you knew her better than you thought you did, Melchiah. We as uncles simply observed some moments in Clara's life, moments that we hold onto and remember because we never had her like you did. You shared your life with her and we only had moments." Sitting down in the chair that Turel had occupied, Zephon swung an arm over the back and settled in. "Does it scare you that I talk like this?"
Melchiah shook his head. "Nothing that you do really scares me anymore, Zephon. And as always, you speak in riddles and half-lies."
Raising one eyebrow at his youngest brother, the weakest of siblings, Zephon shrugged his shoulders. "It all began two days after Clara's birthday. She had just turned fourteen..."
It was half-full, and he was supposed to complete his spell during the half-moon phase. There was no other time to complete this spell.
And now without any Dragon Blood powder; he would not be able to cast that magic spell he had been preparing for. Crossing the room to where the Clan Lord held more of his potions in a cabinet, Turel opened it to see if perhaps he did perhaps have a little powder left, in case a situation like this ever arose. What he received was a shock. His potions and powders, usually arranged in alphabetically and kabalistic order, were instead scattered all over the shelves. The vampire picked up the jar containing Moon Dust and placed it back on the highest shelf, then took down the Good Luck potion and placed it on the bottom where it was originally suppose to be. The jars, which had been filled the last time he had checked, were now half-empty. No one but Turel went through this cabinet; his other brothers as a strict rule left his magics alone. Of course, there was that one exception to the rule...
The Clan Lord looked back up at the moon and grew slightly pensive. He would have to wait a whole other month now before he could finish was he had started, and all because someone had been a little greedy with his things. Striding back across the chamber, Turel drew aside a curtained portion of his workshop and entered into a smaller, more out of the way room. It was a small and cramped space, holding racks of books and scrolls that he had collected ever since he had first begun to study the arcane sciences. Perhaps there was a different ingredient he could use over Dragon's Blood.
Then he heard it.
A faint click from the doorknob, signaling that someone was entering his tower chamber, made Turel stand still. His ears were slightly longer than his siblings; hence his hearing was far superior to their own. Perhaps the person was the culprit who had been making a mess of his shelves and stealing his ingredients. Sliding over to the curtain, Turel's yellow eyes peered around the opening to see who it was exactly that had come calling at such a late hour.
Clara stepped into the room slowly, one hand holding the doorknob while the other held a small lantern. She flashed the light from side to side, and then seeing that candles had already been lit in the room, extinguished her own flame. The girl looked like she was ready to run; a guilty expression was written across her face as if she would suddenly be caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Turel gave a quiet snicker. Thirteen years old and still scared to enter her uncle's laboratory.
Well ever since she had learned that mixing mercury and sulpher together could give a potent explosion at the age of thirteen, Clara had been wary around his things. And there was no doubt about it, the vampire lord thought; Clara was the little thief who had been going through his things. Turel came to this very simple answer as he saw Clara quickly cross the room, her green dress' hem silently brushing the floor, and open up the cabinet door. She took down a few powders and one potion, looking at them quickly in the light, then pocketed them in the decorative pouch around her waist and turned to leave.
Turel let her get to the center of the room, directly underneath the glass dome, when he made his presence known. "So you were the one misplacing my possessions. I take it you also helped yourself to a large share of Dragon's Blood powder too then, am I right?" Clara literally screamed and jumped up into the air, then vainly tried to catch the vials that fell out of her grasp. She managed to snatch two out of the air, but the potion, a bit of Nightshade Extract, fell quickly to the stone floor and shattered. Even Turel, for all of his vampiric alacrity, would not have been able to catch it. Clara looked at her uncle with embarrassment and shame across her face, cheeks turning a bright red, and Turel gave his niece an equally crossed look, arms folded across his chest.
"I'm sorry?" Was all she could offer to him. She brushed a strand of her long hair out of her face, then made it a point not to look her uncle in the eye.
"And why," Turel said slowly, "did you simply not ask me for some of these items instead of being a little thief, Clara?" Turel plucked the vials out of her hands and placed them down on the desk, making sure that they would not roll off the edge and shatter. He then raised one eyebrow and looked at Clara, waiting for a very good answer.
She wrung her hands together, her eyes fixed upon the mess on the floor. "I didn't think you would give me any, uncle Turel. Father always says that you guard your magic closely and ever since that one time I accidentally blew up your workshop and burnt some of your books, you would say no to me no matter what. So I decided that if I took a little at a time, and then brought it back quickly, that you would not notice it in the least. And now I'm blabbering and I don't want you to tell my father. I'll clean up this mess but please don't tell my father. He'll punish me." Clara fixed her uncle with a desperate gaze, hands clasped together. She could still pull off that innocent look, one that made everything seem easy. Turel also knew that he was an easy victim for that pitiful expression and shook his head.
"Why did you need my things?"
"For my spells," Clara answered, nudging a piece of broken glass with her toe. "It's the half-moon and I needed some things to complete my circle."
"Oh, and just what were you casting?" Turel placed a talon underneath her chin and raised Clara's face until her eyes met his. "I'm interested to know."
"A good luck spell for my friend. He said that his luck was bad so I decided to remedy it for him. I did take some Dragon's Blood. But I could buy some more for you. I'll refill your stocks personally, uncle Turel. I promise!" That desperate look was back in his niece's eyes; she would do almost anything to get back into his good graces.
Turel shook his head. "I am afraid that acquiring some of my...ingredients are very hard. Some can only be found during specific times of the year, Clara. And others can be found only at the human Citadel. Like the Dragon's Blood. And it is not cheap, either. I mean, money is not a problem for me but it is difficult getting such a thing to begin with."
Clara clapped her hands suddenly and smiled. "Then I will simply go to the Citadel and get you the things that you need. It should not be all that difficult for me, uncle Turel." Turel's face turned into something akin to chagrin. With Clara saying that, it was like she was saying she would jump into the Abyss and come back bearing gifts of gold and silver.
"You will do no such thing, Clara. You have never been to the Citadel; you do not know how those humans act. All your life you have lived here in the vicinity of the Clans lands. I forbid it." And then Turel saw it. That slight pout that came to Clara's lips when she had silently made up her mind and no amount of talking, cajoling or outright fighting could convince her otherwise. She would go to the Citadel one way or another, no matter what. "I know what you are thinking." He pointed a finger at her. "The moment my back is turned, you will simply go just to prove your point. Well I won't have it. It anything, you shall be accompanying me to the Citadel."
"What?" Clara looked at her uncle, not truly understanding what Turel had just said.
Turel nodded. "You heard me. Tonight is lost, tomorrow is still not here. Come back here tomorrow night then, Clara. Tell your father that I wish to show you the stars or something like that; make up a slight lie. Then come here and together we will go to the Citadel." And, the vampire thought silently, to think that you unknowingly forced me into this position.
Clara giggled and hugged her uncle. "Thank you, uncle Turel, thank you. I promise you, you will not regret it."
"I am beginning to already."
Turning on the small flame in her lantern, Clara turned to go with a joyous face. "I will not tell my father. It will be our little secret then, right?"
The Clan Lord nodded. "Yes, our secret. Tell no one." Turel tapped his nose and gave a wink. Clara closed the door behind her and for a moment, Turel felt very ancient. He brushed a hand through his long ponytail and looked up at the moon. Already it was beginning to wan in the night sky. Dawn would soon be coming. The mage closed one of the tooled leather tomes that he had, sighing morosely. It seemed that his love spell would have to wait until next month, then. And he only hoped in that time nothing else happened that he could not handle.
* * * *
"I require three jars of the Dragon's Blood, as well as two wax statues. No, the ones of the far right, one shelf above you. Yes, those are the ones." Turel stood calmly by the counter as the human clerk, a round and balding man dressed in black wool and an apron, reached up to grasp the items the Clan Lord had asked for. Had the storeowner known the true nature of the well-dressed customer in front of him, then the chances of him actually selling his wares, let alone be of a reasoned and sound mind, would never happen. As the human placed the wax statues, one in the shape of a dragon and the other in the shape of a unicorn, down on the counter and then reached back to pluck the Dragon's Blood from the shelf.
The power of the transformation spell Turel had used upon himself had changed the Clan Lord wholly; while his height remained the same as before as well as his powerful built, Turel's skin no longer held a deathly pallor but was instead flushed. If someone were to touch the sorcerer they would not feel cold flesh but warmth emanating from him instead. Turel's eyes no longer held the telltale vampire gold colour; the irises were now a light gray, the same shade that storm clouds held. Dressed in simply robes, a velvet green cloak hanging off his shoulders with the hood placed over his head, Turel did indeed held the guise of the mage well. Looking around the small magic shop, located within the very heart of Citadel, the vampire wondered idly if he could in some small way, convince this human to move his livelihood over to the Turelim Clan holdings. It would make things much easier for the Clan and its children.
Along both walls and at the front of the shop were bookshelves filled with scrolls, notes and other manuals that the vampire lord already owned. Positioned within glass cases that stood on wooden stands were small crystals, glass orbs that when held in the light one could see into the supposed future. Clara, clothed in a black satin gown and a red cloak, her hair tied into a multitude of small braids, was leaning intently over one of the cases, her face nearly pressed up against the glass as she strained to see the fine detail in an enchanted pendant. Just having stepped into a shop owned by a human and not by a vampire had been nearly overwhelming to the young girl.
Turel well remembered how excited Clara had been when she had come to see him the following evening. Animated and wound as tightly as a spring she had giggled with delight as she and her uncle had finally set out from the Turelim region, the two had arrived at the Citadel a little after the moon had risen. The guards had thought nothing of letting two people into the fortress city who claimed citizenship with the city of Freeport; after all they were humans. After all the humans had to work together to overcome their seemingly immediate annihilation. After entering under the double portcullis that was the only entrance and exit of the Citadel, Clara had quickly pulled back the hood of her cloak to see the Citadel.
Walking down avenues where humans freely conversed; women speaking freely with their friends after placing the children to bed, the men coming back from the Watch or the forges, and adolescents running along with their friends, Clara watched with a mixture of fear and curiosity. A baker was closing up for the coming night and the dressmaker's shop's windows were already darkened. A young mother with her infant was drawing a bucket of water from a fountain carved out of the fortress walls. So this was how humans behaved. The way they lived their lives in the shadow of the vampire menace was not as different as the way the vampires lived.
"Uncle," Clara said in a hushed voice, not using his name "was this where my human mother came from? I know that I am not a vampire, and I love my father with all my heart, but do you believe that if I was not his daughter that I would have grown up here instead?"
Turel, who had been holding Clara's hand tightly as the duo had quickly walked through the streets, was startled for a moment by the simplicity and the complexity in his niece's questions. She gave a meditative look towards him, waiting for his answer. The second-born stared off into the distance as he turned a corner with Clara, not truly looking where he was going but knowing by instinct the path towards the magic shop he frequented.
"I do not know," he responded lamely. "Your mother could have come from the servants, from the Citadel, or from one of the human cities that have not fallen to Lord Kain. But does that really matter to you, Clara? You have us as your family. A loving father, five uncles who would do almost anything for you, a grandfather that-"
Clara sighed heavily. "I know that uncle, but do you think I would have grown up differently had I been raised here instead of with my father?"
The vampire lord had quickened his steps as Clara had been speaking, causing her to walk faster if she did not want to be dragged. Turel knew what he was really doing: purposefully avoiding the subject. Why was Clara now entertaining such thoughts? Did she not realize just how lucky she had been, that she was elevated a rank above these petty mortals? Trying to make his niece see such things would take time, and Turel at the moment did not have time. He never wanted to make the time for such questions, questions that should never be asked to begin with in the Clan Lord's view. "Look Clara," he said quickly, "there is the magic shop."
Now, with the shopkeeper paid and his ingredients bought, Turel was ready to head back to the safety and sanctity of his own territory. Having been around so many humans, the scent of their warm flesh carried on the breeze to him had been nothing but torture to the Clan Lord. A vampire losing control was a terrible thing to behold, but succumbing to the bloodlust with so many humans around...Turel knew that even a son of Kain would have difficulty escaping unscathed.
Coming out of his musings the disguised vampire then realized that Clara was not in the shop.
Heart beating quickly, Turel quickly wrenched the door of the shop open and walked out onto the street, trying not to let his rising panic overtake him. A quick glance to the right, a furtive glimpse to the left revealed nothing. The streets were completely empty with only two lanterns providing illumination, the light reflecting off of the stone streets. Night had fallen fully now, Turel's breathing came fast in his chest. Clara had simply vanished from her uncle's side, intent on seeing the Citadel on her own and without him by her side. The Clan Lord's first thought was to find his niece, and his second thought was that if he did not find her, then he would never step a foot inside the Clan Melchiahim holdings again. Melchiah might be the weakest of the Lieutenants, but even he was a terror to behold when he was angered. Holding his packages under one arm; Turel began to walk the streets of the Citadel trying to pick up his niece's scent. Using vampiric magic here might alert the human mages, and calling out the girl's name would provide unwanted attention.
"Then I will have to find her the old-fashioned way," Turel growled under his breath. Coming to the decision that Clara had most likely walked down the street to the left, Turel followed and hoped that his intuition was right. In a few long strides he had come to the corner and to an intersection. He then paused, sniffing the air for Clara's scent, the smell of her blood that separated her from the other humans.
The Clan Lord continued up the road.
Soon Turel's heightened senses became aware of something else besides Clara's scent. A sharp and pungent odor filled the air; it teased at his mind. Turel had smelled something like this before, not many years ago. It stirred memories that he had tried to forget. A whiff of smoke, the burned aroma of wood, charred flesh...the vampire's eyes, grew wide in panic.
A burning, there was a public burning going on in the Citadel. Humans did not burn their own kind; they hung them instead. Burnings were only given out to vampires...or vampire followers.
"No, no, no, no!" Turel's voice was nothing more than a choked whisper. He dropped his packages, never hearing the glass shattered on the cobblestones, as he literally became a blur of motion, darting with the speed only a vampire could possess towards the smell of burning wood and charred flesh. Images began to flash through his mind at what had happened, of what already could have happened! If anything had happened to Clara, if those dirty humans had laid one foul hand upon her innocent body, Turel vowed he would destroy this Citadel with his own talons and magic. He could feel his black heart pounding with rage barely suppressed; red clouded his vision and the Clan Lord flexed his magically altered hands.
The humans would pay!
The street emptied out onto the wide plaza where, in the center on a raised scaffold, was a body tied to a stake that had been driven into the ground. Flames licked and snapped at the wood, and the shadowy figure was writhing as the fire crawled up their form. The person was the same size as Clara, and the shrieks that pierced the air, screams of pain and agony over the roar of the crowd, sounded like it was Turel's beloved niece. The humans screamed out obscenities at the burning victim, shouting out their collective hate and hurling insults into the flames. His legs felt like water, the world swam in Turel's eyes. Reaching out to steady himself against a empty vendor's stand, the mighty vampire lord sank to his knees as he looked up at the burning pyre.
"Clara," he gasped as a tight pain filled his chest, making it hard to breath. "Clara..." What would he do now, what could he do now? She was burning; Clara was burning. A black rage swept over the second-born of Kain, a wave that would consume him and Turel would gladly accept oblivion for the strength it offered his agony. He would take his nothingness and shatter these humans, toss their bodies up against the walls and watch their weak bodies break. Their lives would become a living nightmare without end. Turel would justify Clara's death with those of all the men, women and children living in the Citadel...
"Uncle Turel! Uncle Turel!"
Clara's voice pierced through Turel's void, bringing him back to the world. His head snapped up, eyes looking throughout the crowd of humans for her. There she was, running towards him with tears running down her face. Dropping to her knees beside her uncle, either not seeing or not noticing the look of relief that lit up his features, Clara wrapped her arms around him and began to sob. Shudders wracked her small form as Clara tried to quiet her sobs inside her uncle's cloak.
"They're – the humans are b-burning a vampire! You have to help him, uncle Turel. You have to help him!" A howl swept over the plaza, the source coming from the vampire's burned and blackened throat. Clara gave Turel a hopeful look, her eyes pleading with him. "Please help him!"
"You are alright, Clara? Did those humans touch you? Tell me!" Turel grasped his niece by her shoulders and shook her quickly, trying not to feed his quickly diminishing panic and tension into her. The young girl shook her head, a few braids falling over her eyes.
"No, I just wandered off uncle Turel. Please forgive me but you have to save him!" She pointed a quivering finger back towards the smoldering vampire. By now the pyre was completely ablaze, the shadows cast by the flames making the humans seem grotesque and monstrous in the red light. The vampire had ceased in his futile struggles; he had stopped struggling altogether. Smoke billowed upwards into the night sky, obscuring the moon.
Turel quickly rose to his feet, pulling Clara up with him. "There is nothing I can do, Clara. He is dead. We have to leave now."
"They – they killed him," she declared quietly in an accusing voice. Clara was still crying but she seemed to not notice the tears anymore. "He was trying to leave; he talked to me and they killed him. Because of what he was. I hate them. I hate the humans. I HATE THE HUMANS!" Clara shrieked the last words to the crowd, who was beginning to disperse; her hands balled into fists and her face an unwholesome shade of red. Turel clamped a hand over his niece's mouth and dragged her into the shadow of an alley. Already the Clan Lord could feel the effects of his magical spell over himself beginning to weaken. Before his eyes, now once again the metallic gold that all vampires possessed, Turel saw his hands change back into the talons they were.
Clara struggled against her uncle's grasp, kicking and pounding him with all the rage she had within her. Unable to break the hold on her, finally drained by what she had seen, Clara slumped against Turel's form and began to cry again. "It is not fair, it is not fair. That vampire was just trying to leave the Citadel. He told me he was trying to leave, that he had escaped the dungeons. He was," she hiccupped, "he seemed kind enough to me."
"We're going home Clara," Turel brushed her hair back from her face with one talon. "It would be better that you did not tell your father of what you have seen. For your safety." She nodded mutely, and then taking her uncle's hand, was led willingly out of the Citadel under the cover of shadows.
* * * *
"I never understood why Clara was so silent in that time," Melchiah quietly spoke. "I thought at first it was I that had done something to anger her, or one of her friends. Now that I know the truth, I am glad that could be laid to rest. Did you ever find out what clan that vampire came from, Turel?"
The mage shook his head. "For all I know, he could have been a rogue from the swamps. You know how it is, that some vampires create others without our consent and as such, have to abandon the fledglings to save their own necks."
"My child was so changed after that. Whenever the humans were mentioned in her presence, Clara would immediately fly into a rage or stare off into the distance in a brooding silence. She never seemed to smile again, or when she did it never reached her eyes like before. Because of you she lost her innocence." Melchiah felt something akin to disappointment as he stared at Turel, one of the few siblings that he thought he could actually trust. "I do not know if I should hate you for what you did to Clara, or look at you in disgust."
Turel rose quickly, not looking at Melchiah. In a voice tinged with anger the Clan Lord countered, "Now you see why I kept secret and silent for so long. If I had told you, or if Clara had uttered a word of her excursion to the Citadel, then what would you have done Melchiah? What conclusion would you have jumped to?"
"I would have seen to it that you would have kept your distance from my child, that you were a contaminating influence on her." Melchiah stood and glared at Turel. "I would have attacked you and then...then I would have-"
"You wanted the truth and I gave you the truth, brother! Do not hate me for what now lies in the past!"
Melchiah knew he was shouting, raising his voice to be heard over Turel's booming tone. "And I would have still condoned you all the same! Turel-"
"Well, it seems for once this is an argument that I in no way instigated," a sly voice said quietly; with the words came a calming effect as both Turel and Melchiah looked to see who the new visitor was. Already in the chamber, leaning up against one wall with his eyes closed and arms folded over his chest, was Zephon. His very presence caused the two to halt their verbal battle, neither looking at the other.
"I have to leave," Turel muttered. Drawing his clan cape over his shoulder the second-born left the room as quietly as he had entered; by the way he hunched his shoulders around him Melchiah could see that his words had stung Turel a great deal. Dropping back down onto the bed, feeling defeated, Melchiah did not even wish to ask Zephon what he was doing in his Clan Holdings. The fifth-born rarely left his Cathedral, but when he did he was usually up to no good.
"Let me guess: Clara." Zephon saw Melchiah flinch at the very name.
"Who else. How much did you hear from Turel?"
"Oh, I heard enough, and I can well remember those days when Clara was not quite the same person. Innocence lost, never to regain, but then sooner or later Melchiah she would have lost it. She was growing up," Zephon mused.
The sixth-born clasped his talons together. "If I had had it my way, I would have ensured Clara would have remained young forever."
Zephon chuckled. "Oh, did we not all wish to have that? The mood in here needs to be lightened somewhat. I have a humorous story about Clara, if you want to hear it. If not, then I can just as easily take my leave from you." He made a move towards the door, but Melchiah stopped him with a look.
"Please, I want to hear it. It seems the more I hear from my brothers the less I knew about my child," he said dejectedly.
"No, you knew her better than you thought you did, Melchiah. We as uncles simply observed some moments in Clara's life, moments that we hold onto and remember because we never had her like you did. You shared your life with her and we only had moments." Sitting down in the chair that Turel had occupied, Zephon swung an arm over the back and settled in. "Does it scare you that I talk like this?"
Melchiah shook his head. "Nothing that you do really scares me anymore, Zephon. And as always, you speak in riddles and half-lies."
Raising one eyebrow at his youngest brother, the weakest of siblings, Zephon shrugged his shoulders. "It all began two days after Clara's birthday. She had just turned fourteen..."
