Chapter 3
The second time that Harper awoke a vampire was slightly less distressing than the first. His first thought had been that maybe it was a dream, an illusion brought on by too much Sparky Cola and not enough sleep. One glance down at his ebony-taloned hands shattered several layers of optimism and he felt as though reality had just kicked him sharply in the vulnerables. He had a pounding headache. Did vampires suffer from caffeine withdrawal? He strongly doubted it. Harper rose from the bed that he had been lying on and walked as quietly as possible to the small wash basin and wall-mounted mirror, resting his head against the cool glass. Growing up on a slave planet, stealth was a necessary survival trait that most acquired early on; still, he marveled at how utterly silent his steps were.
He opened his eyes and looked at his reflection. Staring back at him was a familiar stranger, if there is such a thing. His hair was jet black, turning his head to catch the light, his skin was pale, but without the tiniest blemish or imperfection and seemed to contain a slightly luminescent glow. Along with his now burnished gold colored eyes and elongated fangs, he was frighteningly beautiful, if surreal.
Feeling the blood boil in his soul, Harper tried desperately to calm down, but it was so hard to control these new emotions. Whereas, before last night, he would have been scared and angry, he was now terrified and enraged. His feelings were swinging wildly from one extreme to the next and it was very disturbing. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He tried to conjure up the most calming image he could think of. The vision he created was hardly a surprising choice.
He held an image of Trance in his mind, picturing her as accurately as possible. He could see her iridescent golden skin that was touched with highlights of lilac. Next he added her long scarlet braided hair. Lastly he imagined her beautifully expressive brown eyes; he had always loved her eyes. When he had first met her, Harper had had to spend some serious effort in training himself not to stare into her unfathomably deep eyes at every opportunity. Harper's breathing slowed down to normal and his heartbeat slowed and ceased. Slightly disturbed by the stillness in his chest, he nevertheless felt much calmer and silently thanked Trance, before crossing the room to the only exit. Prior to opening it, he leaned his head against the thick wooden door and listened.
Harper could hear voices in the next room. Reasoning that it must be the other two, he decided to see what he could learn. They were speaking so loudly it was a simple matter for him to eavesdrop on their conversation.
"…will most likely not awaken for several hours yet, and yet I wonder at him. Have we any idea as to the root of his strangeness?" That was the male.
"I strongly suspect something in his mortal bloodline. Perhaps an ancestor of his was of unusual blood, possibly a mage, demon or fae. After he has become accustomed to being a Kindred, he may enlighten us; however it is quite possible, even probable, that he does not know himself. Regardless, I am currently concerned more with the present than the past. I have, in my entire life, heard only whispers as to the consequences of siring a childe with the blood of more than a single Kindred. It is said that when the gift of Caine is bestowed, the mystical essences are not added, but multiplied within, granting the childe great power and potency of blood." The woman was most definitely the wiser and dominant of the two; the man was positively submissive towards her.
"If the process produces such powerful childer, why then is it not practiced frequently?" Not just submissive, Harper observed, but admiring. She was perhaps his creator?
"Because the Beast is also enhanced greatly, most do not survive the first few nights without succumbing. Additionally, the bloodline is also apparently of great importance. I once read an account of a Tremere wizard attempting the same with a Ventrue captive. The idea was to breed a Tremere/Ventrue hybrid, a mage with the ruling skills of the Blue bloods."
"What was the result?"
"Disaster, the clan bloodlines were too far separated, the blood did not mix correctly. The resulting Kindred would have offended the senses of a Nosferatu and did not last long regardless. The pull of both clans tore him apart mentally, and, as always, the Beast was there to take advantage of his weakness."
"But since I have your blood in my veins," Harper's theory seemed to have been confirmed. "surely that is not an issue. He will be a Brujah, through and through."
"Aye, but only if we can teach him to master the power and perils of his Brujah blood with great alacrity. I fear that if we fail he may prove uncontrollable." The conversation had drawn to a close, and Harper decided that it was time to confront these two and demand answers. His blood was still simmering. He knew that it would not take much to set him over the edge again and he had no wish for a repeat experience.
No, he had to learn as much as possible about them, about himself, and then return to the Andromeda. He wanted to go back to the ship that had become his home. Harper wanted to flirt playfully with Rommie, knowing full well that she was madly in love with her Captain, even if she denied it. He wanted to talk with Beka and watch her skillfully pilot the Andromeda through the slipstream. He wanted be overworked by Dylan, who knew that he could handle it. Above all, he wanted…needed to see Trance again. Harper had always thought that Trance was beautiful, but it was only recently that he had discovered that he harbored deep feelings for her.
Feelings that, quite frankly, scared him to death. He was in love with her. It was as simple and as complicated as that. Everyone he had ever loved died -- his parents, his family, his friends. For the longest time he had not been willing to risk loosing her to his own cursed existence. She deserved better than a Mudfoot who could never make her happy. Unfortunately, Harper had discovered that however much you try to deny your feelings to yourself, you could not truly deny your feelings in your heart.
Of course, there was also the whole back-from-the-future-and-completely-different-but-still-the-same-well-sort-of issue to deal with, another thread an already overly-complicated web. So he had decided, through fear more than anything else, that he would try to distance her from him, protecting her and himself. Trance was off-limits for the foreseeable future.
However, his recent experience had shocked him out of his indecision; he needed someone to talk to, to confide in. He needed his best friend, but he knew that he could not continue their' previously close friendship without feeling as though he was lying to her about his feelings.
Thus, after much deliberation, Harper was finally going to admit it to her. He was going to tell Trance Gemini that he was in love with her, and then see where that path led. He was not ashamed to admit how much that idea frightened him. He wasn't sure if he could survive being rejected by her; he prayed that would not happen.
~But will she be able to accept me, as this thing?~ On that depressing note, Harper closed that line of thought and brought his attention back to the present. He still had to get out of here.
Usually, Harper favored avoidance over confrontation; he preferred to out-think rather than out-fight his opponents for several very good reasons. His small stature, combined with his native intelligence meant that stealth and subterfuge where almost always more effective than a stand-up fight. Added to this was the fact that, as a species, Humans were neither physically imposing nor particularly sensitive to their surroundings. Having grown to adulthood under the collective heels of the Drago-Kasov pride, the only hope a 'mere' human had for dominance in any situation involving inter-species conflict was to out-maneuver their opposition.
However, as he was beginning to truly comprehend, whether for better or for worse, Seamus Zelazny Harper was no longer a 'mere' Human being.
Steeling himself, Harper opened the door that separated him from the other Kindred and walked through with a confidence that he did not feel. As soon as Harper entered the room, the conversation between Ecaterina and Wilhem came to an abrupt end. As Harper had gathered from his eavesdropping, neither had expected him to wake up so soon.
"You are awake, Fledgling. Yet again you surprise me." Ecaterina spoke with preternaturally smooth elegance. Harper was unreceptive.
"Where are we?" Harper shifted with a coiled tension.
"We are currently in our haven, which is located within this decrepit building. We are approximately two miles from the place where you were embraced." She wisely kept her answers short and to the point. Ecaterina knew how tense he was; she picked out the subtle shifts in his stance, the way his eyes flicked steadily between them, and, most telling of all, the rapidly shifting colors of Harper's aura.
When Ecaterina had previously talked with Harper, she had attempted to read his aura, and found her mind's eye dazzled by the sheer power that he held. With only a few exceptions, Harper had the most powerful aura that she had witnessed in any Kindred. A vampire's power grows with their age and the aura of a newly embraced Kindred such as the one standing barely six feet from her should, by all accounts, be gauzy and indistinct. Comparing what she had expected to what she was seeing would be analogous to comparing a flickering candle to a small thermonuclear explosion.
But then, she was beginning to learn that, where her newest childe was concerned, she should expect the unexpected.
Once she had become used to the blinding intensity of the young vampire's aura, she could began to pick out the separate colorings that signified his emotional state. Aggressive purples swirling quickly with reds of rage and the gray of sadness and depression. His emotions were in turmoil, though significantly less so than she would have expected at this juncture; he was indeed a strong-willed individual.
"Two miles? Take me there, I'm going home." From his understanding of Earth's history, Harper was vaguely familiar with that measure of distance.
"Is that a joke?" Wilhem had apparently missed the building tension within his youngest brother and said exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time. He realized his mistake a microsecond after Harper had him pinned violently to the wall by his throat, his black claws digging painfully into Wilhem's neck. He stared into Harper's burning eyes, and for a moment he considered the possibility that he was about to meet his final death. When Harper restrained himself (albeit barely) from eviscerating the older Kindred, Wilhem was understandably surprised.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Harper wanted to rip him apart. His self-control was quickly slipping and he focused again on his calming images of Trance. His breathing slowed, but he did not relax his grip. Ecaterina quickly came to her grandchilde's rescue.
"Seamus. What he means is that it is currently the middle of the day. Powerful though you are, you are still a fledgling and it is beyond your ken to withstand the sun for more than a few moments. If you step outside you will be incinerated where you stand. You must wait for nightfall, and there is much for you to learn before you can leave and expect to survive in the mortal world." She was beginning to tire of constantly placating her childe.
Harper released the older Kindred and watched as Wilhem's eye's glazed over in momentary concentration, before the scores in Wilhem's neck closed and sealed within seconds.
"How…How the hell did he do that?" Harper addressed Ecaterina instinctively, before realizing that he was displaying the same subtle deference that he had observed in her other childe. Was this a natural extension of being embraced, an ingrained trust in one's creator? He noted Wilhem's complete lack of reaction at being ignored; perhaps he was accustomed to it.
"Healing minor scratches are mere parlor tricks compared to what we Kindred can do if we bend our minds to the task." Ecaterina sensed that she was beginning to engage his attention and she decided to continue this line of discourse.
"We kindred can harness the power of our blood to use what are known as 'Disciplines.' For all intents and purposes, disciplines are magical. You have seen me use some, and even utilized a few yourself, albeit instinctive and crudely controlled though they were."
"When did I use a 'discipline'?" Harper certainly had no memory of doing anything remotely magical.
"Your strength and speed are products of the blood. Your claws," Ecaterina indicated his midnight black, extended nails, "are merely an application of the blood."
"There are more?" Harper was feeling slightly overwhelmed at the sheer scope of avenues that were now opening to him. Perhaps his vampirism was not going to be so bad after all, if he could learn to overcome the drawbacks. He glanced down at his hands. After all, it was hardly like he had much of a choice.
"Many more," Ecaterina confirmed.
"Then these," he raised his hands, "are not permanent?" Harper did not like them; they bore an uncomfortable reminiscence to Magog claws.
"No childe. Learning to mimic human appearances are some of the first and most crucial lessons a fledgling must learn…"
And so the Kindred trio spent the daylight hours instructing the youngest of their number on the basics of Kindred existence. Several times Harper had tried to figure out a way to contact his friends, but he had met with failure at every turn. He had left his comms in the hotel, and for some obscure reason the other two possessed no technological devices of any real standard. When he inquired as to why, he received a strange answer indeed.
"It concerns our arrival to this world," Ecaterina spoke easily to Harper, who had long since gotten comfortable.
"While working to destroy him, Wilhem and I were capture by a very powerful Kindred by the name of 'Goratrix'. He is an extremely ancient and powerful Tremere who has a most unsavory habit of using captive Cainites as guinea pigs in his experimentation into the discipline of Thaumaturgy." Seeing Harper's confused look, she translated.
"Blood magic. It is the hallmark of the Tremere clan and Goratrix is one of the most powerful and least stable among them. Through the total exsanguination of several other Kindred, he created a portal." Harper winced. He intensely disliked portals; they always caused trouble.
"Then he had us thrown through it. When we arrived on this world, it did not take us long to discover that we had not only traveled in space, but also in time."
"So where, and when, do you actually come from. Where were you before Goratix's experiment?"
"I do not know the precise location of Goratrix's haven; however I am reasonably sure it resides in New Mexico. And the date was the 9th of July, 2003." Harper's response was of first confusion, and then shock.
"2003? Old Earth calander, let's see. That would place you," a swift burst of mental arithmetic later, "almost 3470 years ago!" After a moment of shock, Ecaterina continued.
"Well, it is certainly more than I had expected. But we are here now, and so much has changed. That was one of the reasons that I chose you for the embrace; we need new blood to repopulate our clan and you seemed to me to be an excellent choice."
*
Goratrix stood on the edge of the circle inscribed on the floor, a ring of complex sigils that pulsed scarlet; his eyes were rolled back into his head and he was chanting as he had been for three solid nights. The first stage of his experiment was a success. The portal opened and the two were transported to a different time and place, though where and when were almost entirely random.
It was almost time for the second phase, to successfully bring the two back. Once he had achieved this, and when he could learn to predict and control the destination, Goratrix would have the means to escape the Jyhad and his rapidly approaching enemies. It all hinged on this one, final endeavor -- his penultimate play for dominance in the everlasting war of the Kindred.
~And to think, that it all rests on that Brujah bitch and her progeny.~
He was fortunate to have captured an elder and her grand-childe together. It made pulling them back that much easier -- the spell was simply keyed to her blood.
When the portal opened again, her blood would be drawn into it, and returned to their new master. Perhaps, when he had finally perfected this ritual, he would bleed them dry before he left.
All extraneous thoughts vanished as the sigils began to shimmer and a howling whirlwind picked up around him. The portal was reopening, time for their return.