Chapter 2: The Druid, the cat, and the angry warlock

I woke up on the bed next to Lily. She was dead. But don’t worry, that’s normal for her. When a vampire sleeps during the day, their pulse gets very weak and their heat drops to room temperature. It’s very hard to wake them up, as their body is practically non-functional during sleep. That’s the main cause for the entire “living dead” thing. You think it’s a dead body, then at nightfall it wakes up.

What you probably didn’t know: while asleep, vampires are more resistant to sunlight. Direct sunlight will still kill them, but you can leave a sleeping vampire in a well-lit room and the result will simply be a sick vampire the next night. Daytime is more dangerous for vampires for the reason previously mentioned: it’s very hard to wake them up as long as the sun is up. And it has nothing to do with seeing light; a vampire in pitch black crypt will still naturally wake up once the sun is down. It’s magic.

Vampires don’t like other vampires all that much. I told you that already. But like humans, there are some things vampires dislike so much that they agree to work together against, and sunlight is the main one. There is a vampire constitution of sorts, which is sort of like our agreements about human rights. The first thing written there is: no violence against vampires during daytime. Even enemy vampire clans who hate each other with passion and would annihilate the other given the chance will never send mercenaries to attack at daytime. That would mean a breaking of the sacred laws, and the criminal will be hunted by all. And not just by vampires: the constitution gives any magical authority, even the human Council, the right to hunt down and execute anyone who attacked a vampire during daytime.

In case it wasn’t clear, the attack on the club happened at night. After all, they fought back. Mom wasn’t asleep. But it was almost daytime: 5 AM. I didn’t get and exact time from Cecile, but that was important. Vampires measure time from sunset to sunrise, which changes with the seasons and thus doesn’t have a fixed human parallel. Sunrise should have been around 5:30, meaning the attack happened at night, yet happened late enough that the vampires were most likely very tired. Perhaps a few were already asleep, as vampires didn’t like being awake at sunrise even when protected from the light. They say the mere knowledge that the sun is up unsettles them.

So the attackers didn’t break the constitution. Which wasn’t surprising – doing so would have been suicide – but also it meant the ones behind the attack were not entirely unhinged. The mastermind took the time to think and plan before attacking. That was useful information.

I turned my eyes to sleeping Lily. No matter how many times I’ve seen a sleeping vampire, I still had to fight the instincts which told me this was a dead human. The unnatural stillness was the main cause. Vampires only needed to breath on occasion while awake, and could easily hold their breath for an hour. They did tend to breathe at human speeds, but that was mainly for appearing human and to allow them to speak. Asleep, they didn’t breathe at all.

I noticed Lily’s breasts had grown. That made no sense. Is it a spike in my hormones, making me see things? Or did she get breast enlargement? Her breasts were always on the small side, so it was possible.

I lifted the neck part of her shirt and looked inside. What I saw were two pieces of cloth on her breasts. She didn’t have them yesterday. Did she shove them into her shirt just before falling asleep, all just to confuse me when I woke up? Yes. That’s exactly the kind of thing she would do. God, I loved Lily so much.

I felt myself getting erect. Then I remembered mom, and my erection died. If she’s still alive, do her captors give her time to sleep? Or is she being tortured day and night, adding the agony of sleepless days to the list of her existing pains?

I got off the bed. It was almost noon; sunset should be in about seven hours. Glancing at Lily one more time, I took the two pieces of cloth from her shirt and shoved them into her pants, creating a bulge. She took the time to prepare a joke for my sake, so I wanted her to know it worked. She wouldn’t find my joke funny, of course. Vampires had no real sense of humor.

The house was still as death. Without looking into the rooms, it was impossible to know which of them contained a sleeping vampire and which one was empty. And of course, whether or not a room contained a corpse.

Beneath the club were the human quarters. Mom had several humans working at the club, most doubling as meals. A vampire can’t drink too much from one human, or too frequently, because humans aren’t built for that. They’ll die. Most humans in mom’s club had to drink healing potions on a daily basis in order to restore their blood. They were cheap potions, obviously. It was a business, after all. There were two main kinds of human meals: those drank from often but in small doses, and those drank from less often but in larger doses. It all came down to taste: humans with tasty blood were a delicacy, usually passed around in parties and drunk from only one mouthful at a time. The others were for sustenance, drunk to satisfy a thirst. Being a vampire in the modern world wasn’t cheap; hunting was frowned upon, but legal blood cost a lot of money. Thankfully, vampires didn’t need much blood as long as they did not exert themselves, and they needed less and less of it as they aged. The oldest vampires could go for centuries without a single drop of blood.

A man was sitting at the club’s main hall. A warlock.

“Adam, I presume”, he said.

Security guard. Cecile must have informed him I was present.

“Yes. And you are?”

“Jerome. I’m a warlock with Council.”

With Council. Not on Council. Big difference.

“Any thoughts about what happened?”

He shrugged. “I hate these blood suckers as much as anyone. But without order, none of us could live in peace”.

Surprisingly sane. Quite rare for a low rank warlock. But I didn’t get the sense he was playing nice just for my sake.

Most humans warlocks would be happy to see all vampires destroyed. But most human warlocks knew that a war with vampire-kind will be a bloody one on both sides. Among those who spent some time at war, most preferred a shaky peace. It’s one thing to send your children to school with magical protection on the off-chance some deranged vampire will attack them and knowing trained vampires were probably sent to murder your children specifically, as would be the case for children of warlocks if Council ever declares war on vampires. People who feel tempted to start a war are almost always people who’s families can be kept safe in such a case. If every politician voting to start a war had to send their entire family to the front line, there would be no more wars. Only, most human wars happen far away from home. But that is not the case with undersiders: they live among us. A war with them would put all human families on the front line.

Do you understand now why the attack on mom’s club was strange?

“Did Cecile tell you who I am?” I asked.

He hesitated. “A warlock working for the vampires”, he said. He wasn’t a fan of the idea, and I was in no position to judge.

“I grew up here. They are my family”.

I could see the gears turning in his head. A human raised by vampires would either be a brainwashed puppet, or a man simply taught to love a vampire.

“I see”, he said.

I felt no danger in his voice. Hopefully he got the right idea: brainwashed or not, I’m asking questions because I care, not because I’m testing him or playing some elaborate game. I am exactly what I seem to be: a warlock returning home to support his family. It was always best to use the truth whenever you could. Lying meant you had to remember which lie you told to which person, you had to keep it all consistent, watch out for truth spells, and make sure your lie doesn’t come crushing down at the worst possible moment.

“Believe me, I have my doubts”, I said. “But they always treated me well, so I love them as a family. It’s my fault as a human more than their fault as vampires”.

Jerome chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. Children can’t help but love their parents, assuming they were treated well by them. It doesn’t matter if the parents are good people, criminals, or even vampires.”

I started to like the guy.

“Will you help me out, here? We both know Council and the Throne don’t care what happened here. My mom was kidnapped. She is nobility. I just want her safe, and it would be best for everyone if she gets home quickly”.

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Jerome nodded. “Council thinks the same. They don’t care about the vampires, but they care about the peace.”

I hesitated. How much open should I be? I decided to risk it.

“Council and the Throne might both decide to ignore it. That will preserve the peace, but it will not help my mother. And if you ask me, if this kind of thing can go unpunished, it will surely happen again. And next time peace might not be so easily restored”.

He thought about it for a moment.

“I don’t know anything”, he said. “I’m working security in a vampire den, on Saturday. Do I look like I’m on the know?”

Was it Saturday already?

“Can you learn more?” I asked. “I can pay. And you won’t be contractually obligated to tell me anything you think the vampires shouldn’t know. I’ll pay per piece of information.”

He looked at me, unmasked suspicion in his eyes.

“I’ll ask around”, he said at last.

As I was about to leave, Jerome handed me an envelope. It was from Cecile, containing a few pages of information she thought might be of use to me.

I decided to eat out. It was a beautiful day.

Frieda was still alive, thank God. The ancient woman ran a small vegan restaurant well known among warlocks. Frieda herself was more of a Druid, and any food made in her restaurant had the ability to restore one’s magical reserves.

“Adam?” Frieda recognized me, it seemed.

I nodded. Then came the hugs, the questions, the compliments on my looks. I’m sure you don’t care.

“It’s horrible, what they did”, she said. “Your mom is the most wonderful vampire in all of Veritom. Even though we know not to trust vampires, she still always acts as kindly as she can, even though she doesn’t need to. I always knew she really cared.”

“Day-walker?” a voice came from the back. A man about my age, it seemed, working in the kitchen.

“Frank?” I called.

Frank was like a brother to me. He was always a bit weird, but a boy being raised by vampires can’t afford to be picky.

Frank was huge. More than seven feet tall, thick arms and thicker legs. He had a thick forehead, too, on top of his large square jaw. Oh, “day-walker” was my nickname in these parts. A vampire who can walk in sunlight, get it? It’s not original, but it’s fitting.

There were a few early attempts on record to raise a human among vampires, but the human always came out nuts. Being perhaps the only sane human ever raised by vampires, I’m not ashamed to say I did grow up feeling special.

I was never all that clear on what Frank was, species-wise. Seeing him as an adult, he looked a lot like some kind of troll.

I activated my ring of strength as Frank held me in a hug. Had I not, I might have died.

“Forgive, day-walker. Frank is excited a bunch. Frank missed you a bunch a lot”.

“I missed you too, Frank”.

It was a white lie, I suppose. I never once thought of Frank after I had left Veritom. But he did use to be my friend. A couple of years older than me, he also grew among undersiders. Only, his circle was mostly humans. I think some warlock tried to sell him in the city when he was a child. The warlock got his ass kicked by practically everyone, and Frank was unofficially adopted by the warlocks of our neighborhood. If there was one thing every group and species in Veritom agreed on, it was this: the children of every species must not be harmed. At times of peace, of course. At times of war, the enemy’s children were usually the first to go.

Mom always implored me to practice friendship with the mortal species, and I suppose Frank was an easy target. I never felt much for him, but he was a kind and honest guy, so I didn’t mind being his friend. Sometimes I wonder if all my feelings are mere play-act. But I think a real vampire wouldn’t have this kind of doubt.

“How have you been?” I asked. “Anyone special in your life?”

Frank’s face turned green. Literally. I’ve never seen that before. Examining his face, I decided this must be how it looks like when an adult troll (or whatever he is) was blushing.

“Frank is… alone”.

I hooked him up with a large human girl shortly before I left the city. Guess it didn’t work out.

“How about we go out later tonight? I’ll help you find a girl”.

The look on Frank’s face was pure bliss. I wondered if he ever got any since I left town all those years ago. With a guy like Frank, helping him get laid would probably mean he’d sacrifice his life for me if I ever ask him too, so that was a wise investment.

I felt like a vampire for thinking these thoughts. And I really did like Frank, didn’t I? I wasn’t sure. Fuck.

Frank hugged me again, even stronger this time, and I put so much magic into my strength ring that I probably could have lifted up a car, had I tried.

“Ok big guy, time to let go”.

Frank would be useful as backup tonight, considering the places I planed to visit. Though I should probably figure out what he is, species wise. Should I ask Frieda? Veritom was weird about these kinds of questions. In some other places I’ve been to, it was common to come across a couple of udersiders talking in public and hear something like “where are you from? The forests of Arcadia? That’s so cool! I was born here, but my parents come from the fifth circle of Hell”. But people in Veritom are really shy for some reason.

Back to Frieda. She didn’t know anything, but she knew the name of the warlock who was first on the scene: Alexander Klein. The name meant nothing to me. Since Cecile’s info had nothing on this guy, she must have thought it irrelevant which warlock came first. Cecile herself was not in the club at the time of the shooting, so maybe she just didn’t know. I realized I didn’t know if Lily was there when it happened. Should have asked her. What a fuck up.

It wasn’t about the info, of course. Had Lily had anything of value to share, she would have shared it. But if she was there, it’s possible she got hurt. I don’t know exactly what kinds of emotions vampires have, but I know they do have them. Being cold and predatory, they don’t talk about their feelings with each other. But Lily was always open with me; at least, I think she was. She told me everything I wanted to know about the inner life of a vampire. Not that I understood much – vampires speak normal human languages, and did not develop a unique language of their own. As a result, a vampire wanting to discuss their feelings would have to use regular human words, which didn’t fit. Not that they cared. Lily claimed to truly find no benefit in talking about her feelings – she did that for practice, and to satisfy my curiosity. She had memories from the time she was human, but having been turned at sixteen, she had no time to develop mature human introspection.

Memories began to flood my mind. Lily telling me she loved me. Lily telling me she hated me. Lily asking me to fuck her violently so she could practice crying and begging. Lily asking me to cut up her private parts with a knife to see how fast they will heal.

It’s a miracle I turned out sane.

As Frieda also sells herbs, I restocked on some of my dwindling pill supplies. Feeling eyes on me as I left Frieda’s, I decided to start my “fuck it” pill protocol. In case you aren’t me, the “fuck it” is one of several pill protocols I’ve designed, each for its appropriate circumstance. The “fuck it”, as it happened, is a short-term medium-risk protocol of daily pills meant to enhance my body and senses. It has its long list of side effects, thought they’re the kind that only matters if you live long enough. Among my other protocols, which I was not planning to use at the moment, where the “don’t die” protocol for fast healing, the “die later” protocol for extreme combat, the “yer a wizard” protocol for enhanced magic, and a couple others. Oh, the large pill hidden in my rectum was my “it’s rapture time” protocol. Spoiler: there will be fireworks.

Eyes were still on me on my way to warlock Alexander’s house, so I decided to change my route. I could probably lose whoever this was – it was still my city, after all – but then they’ll just find me another time. It was not a real solution. And I wasn’t in a hurry. I mean, I was in a hurry, but it’s not like I expected Alexander to know where mom was. He was a weak lead at best.

Making my way through the alleys of Veritom, I moves slowly enough not to lose whoever was tracking me. I didn’t know if they were using any magical assistance, since I wasn’t trying to hide.

I made a turn, then activated my masking ring. It doesn’t work against regular senses, and it’s only partly effective against magical surveillance. Do you have any idea how much a real invisibility ring costs? I bet even a vampire king would have to consult his books to know if he can afford to buy one.

Not to mention, if I’m fighting someone on the level of a vampire king then I’m dead anyway. So why worry?

Pushing magical energy into my strength ring, I quickly climbed the side of a building and got onto the roof. Looking down, I could see no one following me. No one human, that is.

A large black cat laid in the alley I just passed through. Did I miss it the first time? Unlikely. It looked like it was sleeping there for a while, but have you even seen a cat try to quickly pretend to be asleep? You haven’t, because real cats don’t do that. Which excludes it as an option in the minds of most human beings. I had nothing to lose. Worst case scenario, I’m going to momentarily terrify a random cat. I jumped down.

It tried to run away, but I grabbed it tightly. It cried and scratched, but my shield held strong. Touching it with my hands, I could feel the magic. This wasn’t a cat.

Feeling the thing start dissolving into mist, I pulled out my multi with one hand and opened a tool which looked like a snowflake on a stick, made out of dark silvery metal.

“Stop!” I commanded, pressing the snowflake to the cat.

Its disintegration slowed, but didn’t stop. I didn’t have much time. Drawing a diagram on the alley floor, I performed a hastened analysis spell followed by a simple locator spell. I managed to finish both by the time the cat was gone completely.

It was a conjured spirit. Many human warlock knew how to make them. It was nothing special. Some abilities are unique to certain species, or to specific warlock disciplines. Meaning that the one spying on me was either not that strong, or strong but smart. My simple locator spell produced a compass-looking artifact. It will point to any concentration of magical energy with the same signature as the one used to make it. Its range was rather pathetic, and it dissolves after two days. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m not much of the investigator type. A fist fight? Sign me up. Tracking a spy? I’d rather not.

I backtracked the same way I came, hoping my compass will lock onto something. It never did.

Knocking on Alexander Klein’s door, I suddenly felt happy, for some reason. Did I sense something?

“Come in!”

The voice tried to sound calm, but to my ears it was a scream.

“I’m a friend. A warlock. I need your help tracking a killer”.

Last thing you want to do is walk into a warlock’s house when said warlock thinks you’ve come to kill them.

“A killer?”

Calmer this time. Good.

“I’m coming in, okay?” I asked.

No answer. I pumped magic into the shield inside my chest, my tongue teasing my tooth of unicorn bone, making sure it was still there.

Nothing exploded, so that’s a plus. But I was trapped.

I was sucked inside the moment I opened the door, which closed quickly behind me. I was held floating in the air above a diagram drawn on the ground. I was a prison diagram. I know you got that on your own, but it felt relevant to state it clearly.

“Who are you?” the man shouted.

He was younger than me, about twenty years old. He looked like he hasn’t slept in a long time. Good for me – lack of sleep makes one’s magic turn soft. I didn’t try to break away, as I didn’t feel in danger. Other than being unable to move, which is always distressing.

“My name is Adam. I’m investigating the shooting inside club Argaman. Are you Alexander?”

Did I mention the name of mom’s club? I did, right? Anyway, it’s Argaman. It’s Hebrew for “crimson”. Don’t ask.

The man squinted at me.

“Never heard of you”, he said.

“I used to live here. They called me day-walker”.

I saw recognition on the man’s face.

“Day-walker?” he asked, as if talking to himself.

Assuming this guy grew up here, he should have been about seven when I left town. I was rather well known in underside circles, if you don’t mind me saying so.

“Adam day-walker?” he said slowly.

His eyes darkened all of a sudden.

“You’ll pay for what you did to my sister you son of a bitch!”

This fucking town.