Outcast, page 7
As the vampire leader turned around and looked at Leif, he said, “Most vampires are quite eager to please me, which can be comical at times. But you? It’s obvious you’ve been on your own long enough to look before you leap.” He stepped forward, heading toward the stacked wooden crates close to a desk at the far end of the room. Leif took the opportunity to look at the walls surrounding him. They were actually mostly empty, which was surprising. Leif expected to see the walls filled with different shifter parts. But that wasn’t the case. The room was wide, and the bulk of the trophies hung on the wall that shared the door — no doubt to make it easier for Draven to observe his prizes from his desk.
“I see my wall of fame has caught your eye. Impressive, is it not?” the vampire leader asked.
Leif nodded, seeing that the wall had been organized by shifter species and primes. He saw a set of massive dark purple dragon wings mounted at the top, directly above the doorway, along with a pair of claws that curled outward. The sight instantly made him think of Aline Dracul, and the muscles in his jaw tightened.
Memories flurried past, his mind seeing blurs of trees as he sped through the forests of late eighteen hundred Vancouver, Washington. He ran at a velocity he’d never known was possible, Gemma’s frail form was in his arms. Above the treetops, he could hear the whooshing of dragon wings. Leif looked up and saw the moonlight reflecting purple off of Aline as she hunted for he and Gemma.
“I find it difficult to keep my eyes away from the dragon, too.”
Leif snapped out of the memory, grateful to Draven for stopping him before he had to re-experience what followed.
He found the vampire leader at his side again. “And I’m glad to see some rage in you. It makes you seem less human and more vampire. That fire in your eyes — I can see there is a story to be told about your history with dragon shifters. Perhaps someday you will feel comfortable enough to share it with me.”
Leif forced himself to move his gaze to another part of the wall.
“Those are were skins,” Draven said, pointing. “A few of the larger hounds and ursas we’ve encountered. The finer pelt came from a particularly viscous mao.” Draven ran a hand along his cheek, and Leif envisioned what might have been claw marks that had healed up almost immediately after he’d received them.
Pointing to the other side of the wall, Draven continued describing his collection. “Those are iridescent mermaid scales. Some of the rarer ones I’ve come across. Human hunters would pay a pretty penny for them.” Even in the dimly-lit chamber, the scales radiated in a rainbow of colors — blues, greens, and purples. A few were even gold and silver, and at the top, there was a single white scale.
Draven continued. “Next to them are naga tails, which differ quite a bit in shape and size. Each naga looks a little different. And they’re about as aggressive as maos. Down below them are kitsune tails, which are a lot harder to obtain than you’d think.”
Leif kept himself from shuddering. Everything he looked at, he could envision the brutality that allowed each part to arrive to the room and be mounted.
“Impressive,” he forced himself to say. “Forgive my ignorance, but I’m unfamiliar with what a kitsune is. I haven’t been around shifters enough.”
He wasn’t lying — he hadn’t seen a shifter in a very long time. And he’d never heard of a kitsune. He was sure there were other species that were a mystery to him.
Draven laughed. “We’ll get you educated in no time. Kitsunes are fox shifters that have nine tails. They manipulate electricity, and the reason it’s so difficult to remove their tails is that electric currents shoot up and down their bodies even days after they have died. It can be quite a painful experience.”
“Am I to join the Initiates then?” Leif asked. “In studying and learning?”
Again, Draven laughed. “You do not belong among the Initiates. You are far more elite than that. Besides, Initiates are humans attempting to prove their worthiness to become vampires. Obviously, you have already taken that step.”
Actually, it was something I was forced into, he thought.
Leif looked at the vampire leader. “I feel quite inadequate as a vampire.”
Draven clapped him on the back. “That will be remedied soon enough. Come, take a seat and let us discuss your future with us.”
Keeping his hand pressed firmly against Leif’s back, they walked together to the large desk that had several trinkets displayed in perfect organization. Leif identified several different types of teeth encompassed in glass boxes — no doubt smaller prizes Draven had felt the need to put on display.
Draven pulled out a chair from the front of the desk. Leif hadn’t even realized there were chairs there — they looked to be a part of the desk itself.
“As impressive as your wall of fame is,” Leif said, “the furniture you keep the school stocked with is truly a sight to behold.”
Draven sat down in a luxurious chair opposite Leif, his keen sense of smell detecting the scent of real leather.
“The world sees us as monsters,” Draven said, looking down at his fingertips on one hand as he rubbed his thumb over them. “Dark creatures that find no other pleasures in this world besides drinking and shedding blood. But I believe in refinement. We vampires are much more than what we are made out to be, and as such, we deserve more. And thus, our amenities must exude finesse. Sophistication. In a sense, what we choose to surround ourselves with is what we become.”
I don’t amount to a lot then, Leif thought. He’d lived most of his life by himself with only a few possessions — Gemma’s brooch and grimoire, as well as the Frosts’ chair. And those weren’t even his to begin with. He’d even gotten his rickety old piano for free, rescuing it from a pile of trash that was going to be sent off to the city dump.
You have love, Gemma said. That is far more valuable than any physical possessions.
“I agree entirely,” Leif replied — not to Draven, but to Gemma.
“I am glad to hear that,” the vampire leader said. “You will fit in nicely here, I believe.”
Leif bowed his head. “Thank you, Draven, for your kindness. I will admit, I was apprehensive in coming here. I’ve been in solitude for a very long time.”
Chuckling, Draven said, “Believe me when I say that it shows. But that could very well work to your advantage. Time will tell just how valuable you are.”
“I will do my best to learn,” Leif replied.
“Excellent,” Draven said. “That’s the first thing I’d ask of you in the beginning — to try.”
That would be easy enough. Leif would be able to gauge just how hard he’d have to try. So far, he hadn’t worked too hard at impressing Draven, but he’d somehow done it.
“But before we start talking where you go from here, I want you to tell me about your past,” Draven said, leaning back in his comfortable chair.
This was where things would get tricky — how much of his past should Leif reveal? There were secrets he did not want to have known, like his ability to daywalk. Draven would exploit that the moment he heard about it.
Leif cleared his throat. “I was born in 1874, in northern California. I lived there for the first fifteen years of my life.”
“Let me guess,” Draven said dully, “You had a troubled childhood, so you ran away.”
Leif blinked a few times, surprised by the vampire leader’s quick discernment.
“Don’t act so surprised, Leif,” Draven said. “The vast majority of vampires have similar pasts. The family bonding felt in our school is something they never received growing up. No doubt, you will feel it soon enough. Perhaps you’ve already felt it, based on your interactions with Beatrice.”
Leif hesitated responding. “About Beatrice and I,” he stammered. “We have a… complicated history.”
Draven laughed deeply, his whole body shaking. “Anyone who gets involved with her would likely say the same thing. But please, continue on with your story.”
“Well,” Leif said, recalling where he’d left off. Any thought of Beatrice easily threw him off. “Growing up, I worked with my family on acres of orchards. When I was fifteen years old, I was hired by a family that owned a boarding house down close to the Columbia River.”
Draven raised an eyebrow. “The Frosts, no doubt. Surely that is where you met Beatrice.”
Leif nodded, wanting to sidestep further discussions of her. “They needed their own orchard taken care of. I jumped at the chance, and maintained it for ten years.”
“Until Beatrice turned you into a vampire, you mean,” Draven clarified.
Although Leif didn’t see it that way, the timeline fit perfectly, making it easy to step away from sharing more personal details about Gemma and her murder. “Yes.”
“Surely the Frosts ran you out of their home as soon as they discovered what you’d become,” Draven added.
He seeks to discover your past involvement with shifters, Gemma spoke to his mind.
“I was chased away by one of the other boarders,” Leif corrected. He clenched his teeth, turning around and looking back up at the purple-scaled wings hanging above the door. “She happened to be a dragon shifter.” Bitter hatred bubbled within him, and he turned back around. “Aline Dracul was her name, and while Beatrice may have changed the course of my life, it was Aline who ruined me.”
Draven was staring at him in fascination. “How coincidental that the Dracul line has negatively affected you, Leif. There are many, many vampires who would love to slaughter every last Dracul on the planet.”
This wasn’t news to Leif, but he had never heard a vampire talk about it before. In the time he’d spent with Camilla after the destruction of the boarding house, they’d had conversations about the vampire attack, and how they’d been focused on killing Aline due to her family name. One of her ancestors had given the vampires a terrible blow, and they were bent on hunting down and wiping out the Dracul line. But there was one big difference he could already see between himself and these other factions of vampires.
“My fury is bent on Aline alone,” Leif said. “Not her family.”
Draven shook his head. “Aline Dracul is long dead. Who else can you take your revenge out on?”
Leif had never felt the need to seek revenge. He’d hated his father for all of the physical abuse he’d been through, but Leif never carried vengeful thoughts because of his actions. The day he’d left home was the day he’d left it all behind.
“You really are a different kind of vampire,” Draven said. “Did anything remarkable happen after you were chased out of the boarding house?”
There had been a bit regarding Camilla. He’d tried to aid her through some of her issues afterward, but being around the boarding house was extremely risky. And eventually, vampires overran the place and destroyed it. Leif hadn’t been able to stop it. After that time, he visited Camilla often, watched as she grew old while he stayed young. She married and had children, but due to the unsafe nature of their difference in species, an agreement was made that visits had to be infrequent. That was the beginning of Leif’s long solitude, but he’d been there with her on her deathbed, as old age claimed the life of his sister.
“I’ve lived in seclusion ever since,” Leif said distantly.
Draven studied him for a long moment, tinkering with one of the glass cubes in front of him.
“Your story, Leif, is a sad one,” the vampire leader finally remarked. “You have spent the bulk of your life doing nothing but thinking. All this time, the only interaction you’ve had with anybody has been from the humans you’ve fed on?”
And me! Gemma said.
Leif hid the smile that wanted to creep to his lips.
“Yes, but with my age, my thirst comes infrequently.”
Again, Draven stared at him with discerning eyes. “Coming here has not been an easy choice for you.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
Leif wanted to tell him he’d been forced to come, that his agency had been stripped away. He’d much rather be sitting in his cabin right now, sipping at a blood bag, or getting lost in song as his fingers became one with his piano.
“Life here will be an adjustment,” Leif replied. “But again, I am willing to try.”
Draven nodded. “I will say this: you are precisely what we need, Leif. Do you understand that? You are needed here at Heritage Prep. The vampires need you, but most of all, I need you.”
“I don’t feel like I have much to offer,” Leif replied. “I lack the experience most vampires have.”
Draven pointed at him. “Which gives you just the experience we need. You see, Leif, you aren’t a mindless drone like the rest of the vampires here. They live off of instinct and passion, and have only the desire to increase their status. But you? You live off of your mind. You think before you act. And that makes you invaluable. You would work well as a counselor and strategist. And now we come to it: you have an opportunity to fill those roles for me. Will you do it?”
Leif was surprised by Draven’s offer. He felt he’d done nothing to earn the vampire leader’s trust.
At last, he said, “I will do my best.”
Draven clapped. “Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. We have much to discuss about missions, and I will want your brilliant mind to aid in those plans. But for now, you should get a feel for our school. Beatrice is right outside the door, waiting for you. You should ask her to take you on a tour, then get settled in your quarters. If there is anything you need to make you feel more comfortable here at the citadel, just ask.
“With many hours of daylight ahead of us, I will be researching more on our discoveries made from last night’s attack. When you are ready, come back here to the trophy room and we will collaborate on our next steps.”
Leif bowed his head, not particularly looking forward to a tour with Beatrice. But he would follow along and learn all he could. “I will return.”
Standing up, Leif moved to the door, taking his first steps into a new destiny.
CHAPTER SIX
“AND HERE ARE your personal quarters,” Beatrice said. She twisted the polished gold knob and pushed the door open. Her fingertips glistened with what looked to be a fresh coat of black nail polish.
Stepping into the room, Leif observed just how big it was — far larger than his rundown one-room cabin. The walls were black, but the wooden floorboards held a dark brown stain. A single vaulted window was etched into the far wall, and was likely only ever opened after sundown, if at all. He placed that in the back of his mind as a possible method of escape. There was a large wooden desk directly under it with a matching chair. Both looked to be made of cherry wood. Leif knew his trees.
“I don’t suppose I could request a piano?” he said, looking at the other two empty black walls while missing his old upright collecting dust at his home.
“A piano?” Beatrice said, cocking an eyebrow. “Please tell me you’ve improved since your terrible tinkering at the Frost Boarding House.”
The remark reminded him briefly of Camilla who used to poke fun at his terrible playing. “I’ve had quite a bit of free time over the past one hundred years or so.”
Beatrice smiled. “I’d love to hear you play sometime. And I’m sure we can put in a request for a piano. There are other vampires who own them here within the school.”
If Leif could at least have his musical outlet, life at the vampire fortress would be much more manageable.
“Ninth floor is a pretty good starting point for a newcomer, so be glad Draven put you up so high right away.”
He gave Beatrice a side-glance, hesitant to ask the next question that popped into his mind. “Are your quarters nearby?”
A light came to her eyes and the corners of her mouth cracked ever so slightly into a smile.
“Is that something you desire?” Beatrice asked, her tone betraying her hopefulness.
No, it is not, Gemma said in Leif’s head. This woman is relentless, is she not?
Leif shrugged. “I figured I’d ask. The school is massive, and I don’t know how Draven organizes all of us beyond status placement.”
Beatrice laughed. “I don’t think Draven even knows how he organizes us beyond his personal ranking system. But to answer your question, I’m four towers over. Top chamber.”
Leif feigned how impressed he was. “Well look at you, Miss High-And-Mighty. We certainly know where you stand with Draven.”
“Not as close as I wish to stand with you,” she replied, breaking into a full smile.
Yes, Gemma, he replied. She has an exhausting persistence.
Clearing his throat, Leif said, “Why?”
Still grinning, Beatrice said, “Why what?”
He shifted his hands between them. “Why the constant flirtation? Every time I try to have a normal conversation with you, you always say something amorous.”
“That is because I have not given up on you, Leif Villers,” she replied.
The words transported his mind to the past, a direct phrase pulling him through time and memory.
Rain pattered down, a welcome summer rainstorm in Vancouver, Washington. Leif had spent the day thinning fruit from the trees in the orchard, but was only now returning back to the boarding house after helping Mrs. Ferguson — the old widow who lived down the street — board up one of her broken windows. He’d stayed later to clean up the rainwater that had pooled near the window before he’d been able to get over to his neighbor’s house. His arms ached from continuous reaching and picking, as well as the holding of wood and hammering of nails, but in the long run, the effort would pay off.
And Mrs. Ferguson had given him a loaf of warm bread for the service — something he’d left down in the kitchen for the other boarders to enjoy before running up to his room to dry off.
Leif had been out in the storm all day, and his wet clothing stuck to him like jam on bread.
Grabbing dry, clean clothing from his dresser, he turned to make his way to the bathroom to draw a bath. Gemma was with Camilla somewhere, and so he was taking the opportunity to clean himself up. He couldn’t wait for another evening to talk with her late into the night, especially after such an exhausting day.
