Chapter 3: Out of the vampire and into the werewolf
“Don’t do anything rash”, I said. “You are confusing me with someone else”.
It was probably a lie. I mean, I had no idea what he was talking about, but it did sound like something I deserved.
“Fuck you!” the warlock yelled. “She loved you. She really loved you”.
My body went soft, and my head dropped down slightly.
“I know. I’m sorry”, I said slowly and quietly. “I was young, and I was raised by vampires, I’m sure you’ve heard. I didn’t know. I didn’t think… I know there’s no excuse for what I did. All I can say is that I’m sorry, and that I’ll never do something like that ever again.”
He stared at me for a long while.
“You…” he began, then paused. “You don’t deserve forgiveness”.
He said it, but he sounded unsure.
“Is that why you really came here?” He added.
I nodded. “I hoped to talk to you, see if you remembered me, so I could apologize. It’s true I’m looking into the attack, but once I heard you were first on the scene I knew I had to come. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you to live with what happened all those years ago. God, you were, what? Six? Seven?”
He nodded. Then he began to cry. I let him cry for half a minute before talking.
“Can you set me free? I won’t fight you.”
He nodded, and I was freed. I came over to him and put my hand on his shoulder as he cried.
“I still don’t forgive you”, he said. “I’ll never forgive you”.
“It’s okay”, I said. “It is my sin to bear. You shouldn’t suffer for it”.
“Thank you”, he murmured after a pause. “I know she would have said the same”.
I stood up. “I won’t bother you”, I said.
I began to walk towards the door, moving as slowly as I could without it seeming unnatural.
“Wait”, he said. “The attack?”
I paused. “Only if you can. It’s very important, but not as important as your sister”.
“I’ll tell you. Ask me anything”.
He described what he saw when he arrived at the club. I asked questions, and he answered to the best of his ability. Once I was done I apologized again, then left him alone. I was really glad it was over. All that stuff about his sister? I still had no idea what he was talking about.
I tried to remember, but nothing came to mind. I was with a few girls before leaving town, but nothing that would justify such a reaction. I wondered if I even cared, and was surprised to discover that I wasn’t sure. What does it matter? I was fourteen or fifteen. I didn’t hit any girl, I didn’t rape any girl, and I didn’t kill any girl. I was innocent. And yet, there still was this strange feeling. I wish mom was here so I could ask her. She’d know what was going on with me.
In case that last part sounded strange to you, a short reminder: mom doesn’t have human emotions, but she mastered the play-act of human emotions, which requires a deep understanding of human psychology. I can’t tell if I’m clarifying things to you too little or too much, as you aren’t much of talker. I’d apologize to you, only nothing here is my fault. If you want something from me, you’d have to speak up.
Alexander didn’t have anything of value to tell. His description did help me create a good image of the scene, but there wasn’t much to go on. There were bullets in the scene matching 5.56mm ammunition. Standard stuff for assault rifles. Won’t kill a vampire, but could definitely knock it out. Vampires have a working biological body (though there’s magic involved), and a significant enough disruption to their body can knock them out. They’ll heal eventually, assuming nothing prevents a critical organ from forming. The classic example is the heart. Even if you blew half their head off, there would still usually be enough brain matter to keep the body moving. But if you disrupt the heart, the rest of the body can’t heal. Vampire magic is tied to their blood, and the center of it is in their hearts.
Vampire bodies are much tougher than human ones. They only appear frail. A pistol round might not even penetrate their flesh. Though most rifle rounds were strong enough to break in.
Most vampires know a little magic, but only a few become true warlocks. It’s like a star athlete who also has a brilliant talent for art but decides they want a PhD in math. Sure, you can get one if you really want to, but shouldn’t your time and attention be better spent elsewhere? Not to mention that in terms of combat, most mature vampires can easily defeat an average warlock. Or that vampires get stronger with age anyhow.
Shoot a bunch of rifle bullets at the center of a vampire’s chest, and there’s a very good chance the vampire will fall. Their body will require a few seconds to heal the heart, perhaps even a few minutes if several bullets ended up inside it. In the meantime you can just stake the vampire if you want them alive, or cut their head off if you want them dead.
Fire is a good way of blinding a vampire and rendering them nearly harmless, but it rarely kills them. Vampire bodies, on their own, aren’t very flammable. You can douse them with gasoline and let them burn, but they’ll usually stop burning before they die. Even if much of them gets burned off, usually they will still heal.
There are magical ways to kill vampires, but they have a natural immunity to many common spells. Silver, the metal most easy to infuse with magic, is a good place to start if you want a vampire dead; or any other undersider. Of course, there are high spells of true sunlight, spells of immobility which allow you to walk up to a vampire and just cut their head off with a knife… You get the deal. In theory, there are many ways to kill a vampire. In practice, it’s quite hard for the average warlock, and pretty much impossible for a normal human being.
But these guys came with guns. Why? They knew it might unite all undersiders against them. Did they not have access to enough warlocks? Or didn’t have any volunteers? Were they attempting the “our technology will defeat your magic!” cliché? I mean, soldiers are much cheaper than warlocks. Maybe they were just cutting costs, counting on everyone else reading way too much into their choices?
It was no good. I could come up with a thousand theories if I tried. I needed some real data. But I had no leads. And mom was waiting for me to save her.
When you have no leads, you go shake things up. Usually, a lead will pop out somewhere. I’m going to start trouble in every corner of this community until someone gives me answers. But I have to start with Council and the Throne. It’s like crime and the police: You might know police in your area is useless and decide to shake things up yourself, but then after you cause trouble the police say “hey, why didn’t you just come to us? We could have helped you. But now we don’t wanna”. But if you first go to the police and they say, “sorry, there’s nothing we can do to help”, and then you go cause trouble, if something does shake up the police might not want to arrest you because you can prove the case was solvable and that they didn’t do any real work. The downside, of course, is that you put yourself on the police’s radar. The moment there’s trouble on that specific case you were asking about, the police will come to you first.
But at that moment, I didn’t care.
I should go see Council, but that was a long shot. I was human, but I was raised by vampires. And I was a warlock, but not a registered one; a big no-no, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. I had my fake warlock credentials, and it should take them a day or two to realize it, if they ever check, but once they do I’m pretty much fucked.
The Throne? I wasn’t a vampire, but I was a human raise by a noble vampire. They might let me in simply out of curiosity. And there was only a very small chance they’ll try to kill me. Though it would be a different matter if I made trouble for them.
Fuck it. Vampires it is.
Wait, it’s daytime. Never mind. Fuck. I’ve been away for too long.
Most undersiders sleep during the day. Human warlocks are awake, depending on their schedule; some sleep in the morning, and some in the afternoon.
Who else is awake? There’s the werewolves, but they hate vampires almost as much as humans do. There used to be a fairy here, but that seemed like a stretch. Ghosts in the cemetery? Demons in the sewer systems? Dryads in the city park? Gnomes in house gardens?
The last one was a joke, of course. There are no such things as garden gnomes.
In terms of numbers, vampires and humans were the big players. Especially since the former tends to feed on the latter. But Council wasn’t the only place one could find some warlocks.
If Frieda’s was a chill family restaurant, Jack’s was the place where you had to keep your eyes open at all times. A bar open 24/7, it catered to almost everyone. Jack was an interesting character: a powerful human warlock, he welcomed anyone into his bar. And he was strong enough to enforce the peace. Usually. There was a fight every other night, but it had to be friendly. Unless Jack hated you. He wasn’t always consistent when it came to enforcing his rules. On the bright side: he loved mom. It’s possible he even loved me.
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Jack’s bar was called Serpent Staff. It looked exactly like I remembered. Meaning, it looked like and old bar no one cleaned in twenty years. Jack was already there, as he tended to sleep mornings. The place was rather empty otherwise; the night and morning sleepers came in the evening, and rest came in at night. From late morning to late afternoon, the place was often close to empty.
Jack got old. It sent a shiver down my spine. Growing up with vampires, my instincts insisted that people were supposed to stay young forever. His once huge muscles were almost all gone, and his hair had turned all gray. I felt a sudden need to run away.
“Jack”, I said.
He looked at me, and I saw recognition in his eyes.
“Day-walker”, he grunted. “Of course”.
“I love you too, old man”, I said.
He grunted even louder, so anyone could hear how much he didn’t like hearing that. Only there weren’t many people around. I could only see one guy, warlock looking, sitting in a corner. He didn’t even look our way.
“What you want”, he said, pointing back at the liquor shelves with his thumb.
I had a policy of trying anything harmful at least once. Cigarettes? Once. Cocaine? Once. Blue haired girl? Once. Heroin? Once.
“Whiskey. Medium price”, I said.
I already tried most types of alcohol, and other than the occasional whiskey I wasn’t much of a drinker.
Jack had a nice price range for his products. His cheap whiskey was not safe for human consumption, and his expensive whiskey was way outside my budget.
I put a coin on the counter. Jack looked insulted.
“Don’t give me that look, old man. You always said I should start paying you once I had money of my own”.
Jack was one of those guys who had to act really tough to compensate for their soft spots.
Jack grunted again, but he took the coin. He then inhaled slowly, as if preparing.
“About your mother”, he said. “I ask you to wait. Don’t do anything. We are working on it”.
I felt my anger rising.
“If you’re planning a hit, then I want in”, I said.
He shook his head. “Negotiations. We’re asking Council and the Throne to open a joint investigation”.
That didn’t sound like Jack. Not at all. Something was off.
I opened up my senses, trying to notice any eyes or ears on me. I felt nothing. To be safe, I activated my concealment ring.
“No one’s listening”, Jack said.
I looked at him. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t have been the real Jack.
“Then tell me the truth”, I said.
He lowered his eyes. “It’s the truth. Your mother wouldn’t want a war. And we don’t know where she is”.
“Then find out”, I said, letting some of my anger escape into my words.
“I can’t help you, Adam.”
I don’t think Jack ever called me by my name. First it was “boy” or “Vamp boy”, then it was “Day-walker”, once I earned it in his eyes. What the hell was going on?
Confusion was much worse than fear. Fear was an emotion close to excitement, and still allowed a sense of control. Confusion was the absence of control. It was the ground disappearing under my feet.
“If anything happens to mom, and I learn you hid something from me, I’m going to kill you”.
Jack wouldn’t meet my eyes. I couldn’t tell what it all meant. Confusion overcame me. Confusion and fear.
I had planned to shake things up, but Jack seemed almost broken already. But there was a place where I knew I’d find a fight. A plan started to form in my mind. I will be gambling with my life, but it should work. If not for information, at the very least it was certain I’ll find violence.
I took a cab to the other side of town. A part where vampires were not allowed to enter. The werewolf part of town. On my way I stashed most of my gear, leaving only my strength ring. I popped two pills from my “die later” protocol, and put three “don’t die” pills in my pocket.
If vampires were about deceit and blood, werewolves were all about dominance and hierarchy. To get anything out of them, you first had to show them where you fit in. Show you are too weak, and they will kill you. Show you are too strong, and they will kill you. A human warlock will never be one of the pack, but he could prove himself their equal. The trick was to show your strength without threatening their alpha. Strength was just a tool – you had to earn their respect. Hence, my lack of gear. One or two artifacts was acceptable, but carry too much gear and they’ll start to wonder how much of your strength is actually your own.
It wasn’t long before a group of men approached me. I didn’t plan on sneaking in. It would have just made me their enemy.
“I have business with your alpha”, I said.
Those were the magic words. No one was allowed to harm a stranger who had spoken them. Not without a very good reason.
They led me into a large building, one might mistake it for a church. I was made to wait before a very big chair, like the throne of some medieval king. But where the vampires would have made it look like a real throne, the werewolves didn’t care for gold or jewelry. It was the symbol that mattered. The big chair that only one man was allowed to sit on. As I waited, more and more werewolves came inside, taking their place standing all around the chair.
The alpha entered last, approaching the chair. I knew it was him, even though I didn’t recognize his face: he was the largest of them. It was a strange magical thing, perhaps even biological. Once one becomes an alpha, his muscle growth accelerates. It’s not that the biggest one becomes alpha, but that the alpha becomes the biggest one.
I sat on the floor in front of the big chair, looking straight into the alpha’s eyes. A combination of respectful submission and an unyielding challenge.
The alpha sat down on his chair.
“You smell like a vampire”, said the alpha.
“You can’t tell the difference in smell between a human and a vampire”, I said calmly.
Defiant, yet not too defiant.
“You smell like a vampire. You smell like Cecile”.
“I am the son of Jane”, I answered.
He looked me up and down.
“What is your name”. His question sounded more like a command.
“Adam Day-walker”.
He knew the name. From the sound of it, other werewolves here did too. That was good. Infamy was better than obscurity for forming a relationship with werewolves. Or with anyone, for that matter.
“Leave”, he commanded.
He stood up, signaling that the conversation was over.
A non-werewolf could not challenge the alpha for his position as alpha, but he could still challenge him. If the human won, the other werewolves would kill him. If the human lost, the alpha would kill him. Usually. The one exception was, if the human made a good impression before losing. That was the tricky part: I had to lose. They all knew it was I game. At least, I think they did. For a werewolf, tradition and instinct were far more important that rational thought. If the alpha decided he liked me, it wouldn’t matter if he knew I lost on purpose. If that doesn’t make sense to you, you’ll just have to accept it. It’s also true for many human societies and traditions, in case you’re interested in testing what I’ve just told you.
“I challenge you”, I said.
“No. Leave now”, said the alpha.
“I challenge you”.
“I will kill you without mercy”.
“I challenge you”.
You had to say it three times, after hearing each of the alpha’s warnings. Tradition.
All around me, werewolves began to growl. The alpha looked at me, and smiled.
There are two kinds of natural werewolves: created, and born. The created were once human, until they got bitten by a werewolf in its wolf form. Once bit, they lost their humanity each full moon, becoming wolves. But sometimes, on rare occasions, the human side managed to take back control. The werewolf then becomes a hybrid: instead of either man or wolf, he always has a bit of both, and can change his form to anything in between. Once he gains control, he can give birth to other werewolves like himself, assuming both parents are werewolves who have gained control. Those are the born werewolves. Preventing the change in a full moon is agonizing, so they only fight it if they have to. But they can, in fact, resist it.
Since I was human, honor demanded the alpha fought me in his fully human form. It was partly about an equal playing field, and partly to prevent the human from accidentally being infected. A werewolf’s human form is safe.
There was no time to prepare: the alpha attacked. I pumped magic into my strength ring, adding to the enhancement my body received from the “die later” pills, and even to the minor buff I got from the “fuck it” pill I’ve taken earlier.
It wasn’t long before I realized he was stronger than me, even with all of my enhancements. Most likely, he had some enhancements of his own.
I didn’t expect that. I thought I’d have to play weak. I’m sure the alpha knew that’s what I thought. But this way, he actually made it easier for me: I could go all out. I had, among my other gear, artifacts that could have let me win the fight. But they weren’t on me. And I wasn’t planning to win.
I think I did pretty well, all things considered. All the frustration built up inside of me about mom, about Jack – I took it all on the alpha. I love fighting. Did I tell you that? It always felt natural to me. Turning my brain off, not having to consider what to say, what others say, what others are thinking and how to manipulate them. Violence was completely honest. I haven’t fought anyone in a while, and it felt like a vacation.
As I was starting to lose consciousness, I wondered if I’ve made a huge mistake. If I misread the alpha’s intentions, there was a chance he would kill me. The only thing I could do was not fall down. Try to throw another punch, then another one. We all have to die some day. All of us that aren’t immortal. It’s a good thing. Had I been capable of living forever, I would have never taken any risks. Losing an immortal life is infinitely worse than losing a mortal one. Knowing I will die some day, it mattered little if that day was today, tomorrow, or in ten years, or in fifty. Finite is finite, and death is death. So why worry? The only thing you have to lose is the thing you’ll lose no matter what.
Did I win? Did he? Where was I?
I couldn’t see, nor hear, nor feel. But I was still on my feet, and I wasn’t dead.
So I threw another punch.