Waylon's Crossing - 8. Chapter 8: Vampires Suck

Waylon's Crossing
Chapter 8: Vampires Suck

If Duncan's first conversation with the elemental had gone: "Hi, I'm here to help," then the second conversation was more like: "I went, I searched, I return with tidings of great evil."

Right. Whatever. Duncan had more important things on his mind, like his ring, which was missing, and the chaos within the City Watch. There was something amiss, all right. The Watch had called in every justiciar in the city to deal with all the arrests of the night before. An acolyte had woken Duncan at dawn with half a dozen different cases, all from different precincts.

It was late afternoon now and he was tired, with one more case remaining. Stupid Watch and their relentless arrests, stirring up the city for no earthly reason. He wished he could tell the elemental to go to hell, but nobody in their right mind pisses off an elemental. They were powerful, immortal creatures that took pains to remain neutral. History said that elementals had fought against the demons in the wars, but so many things had changed since then. Truth of the matter was that few people outside historians and scholars knew elementals even existed anymore. They were reclusive beings, more apt to take the shape of their element than any other recognizable shape -- hence the name, given to them because elementals didn't have a name for their people. They just were.

That didn't mean they weren't fucking annoying, however. So much for fantasy. Sometimes, real life just sucked.

Duncan didn't spend his time idly. Every precinct had a room set aside for the justiciars to use. Shelves lined all four walls from floor to ceiling with little niches for scrolls and a few books. The study held four tables, clustered together in the center of the room, with a couple of fancy lamps. One section of the bookshelves held fresh parchment, quills, and ink, but Duncan always carried his own with him in his case.

While he waited for the elemental to finish whatever it was he'd wanted with the prisoner, the magistrate went over the thief's possessions and the watchmen's statements. He had all the tools of a thief, but nothing particularly incriminating, even if he was a vampire. There was a set of lock picks, the kind any locksmith would employ, and a sack of coins too heavy to be a single day's legal earnings, but that could be easily explained.

It didn't take a justiciar's skills to see that the Watch had a grudge against this vampire. They really couldn't justify why they'd arrested him except to say he was a known thief and was 'acting suspicious.' The boy brought in with him was more worrisome in Duncan's eyes. A full-grown werewolf, wandering the city at night during a full moon? The few werewolves in the city knew the law too well to be so foolish. They policed their own much better than that. He didn't know the details, so couldn't really form an opinion on the punishment merited there; the only reason there was even mention of the boy was due to the remaining piece of evidence.

According to the Watch, the gun found on the thief matched the type of weapon used at a particularly gruesome crime scene. There were a few, preliminary drawings, one a close-up of one of the demons, that made Duncan shudder, but he knew he would have to visit the warehouse eventually. A crime of that magnitude would require a panel of justiciars when the culprit was identified. The more eyes on the scene, the better.

According to the thief, he'd found the gun when two demons dropped it. They'd been bickering and took off, startled, when the werewolf and the chasing Watch came their way. The gun was a curious device, much different from the one or two models Duncan had seen. This one didn't seem to need powder or light to fire, and seemed to carry multiple bullets, rather than be loaded individually.

To make things more complex, the werewolf claimed that the gun belonged to a member of the Watch. The description was of a large, blonde man with blue eyes, and Duncan could easily see the gun fitting inside a bigger man's hands. The thing was heavy, if only the fraction of the weight of a sword, but appeared to be sized for the individual, like any master-crafted sword or knife. The thing looked ridiculously large when held in Duncan's hands.

The Watch claimed that they didn't have anyone serving them who matched the werewolf's description, or matching the name. They scoffed at the werewolf's claim that he'd made the gun. There were only a handful of people in the world skilled enough to make something like that, and none were in Waylon's Crossing. The werewolf's statement was suspicious, given the nature of his own arrest, so Duncan set those papers aside as well.

He tapped a finger against his lips as he thought. The thief's record was extensive, but all circumstantial. There wasn't any one thing he could make stick, and it was easy enough to see how he'd been caught and released several times before. If he was a thief, he was a damned good one. Short of being caught red-handed, Duncan didn't think there was anything he'd honestly be able to use to punish the man. The Watch's claims that he was somehow tied into the warehouse massacre were, to Duncan's eyes, outrageous.

Aure observed the magistrate for a few minutes before revealing his presence. Had the humans of the city forgotten everything? That seemed incomprehensible to the elemental. Sure, humans had short memories, they didn't live very long, after all, but surely they wouldn't let the knowledge die with them! The blood of the Ancients was strong in this man; he must be a direct descendant. As Bryce had opined, the man ought to know who and what he was. Such ignorance, if that's what it was, was truly alarming.

Swirling to solid form, Aure gave a low bow to the magistrate, saying, "I am finished." Swirling air around him to simulate a chair, Aure sat down.

Duncan jumped, scowling, glad he'd capped his inkwell. "Very well," he muttered. Judging from the height of the candles, he'd been gone long enough to have procured an extensive testimony. He started to gather up his things, startled when the elemental sat down across from him.

"Yes?"

"I am prepared to share with you what I know."

"Really?" asked Duncan. Elementals just ... did things. They didn't collaborate.

Aure sighed, an expression he'd picked up from Bryce centuries ago. He inclined his head again. "I am here to serve." Really, was this so difficult a concept to understand? The city called, he came, hadn't they gone over this already?

"Right." All business now, Duncan set out a fresh scroll and trimmed his quill, checking to make sure the ink was still fresh and not drying or clumping together. "Go ahead."

"He is a thief," said Aure. "His name is Bryce Knopf, and he did not commit the crime of which he stands accused."

Duncan's quill slowed as he looked up at the elemental. "You know this for certain?" He didn't dare come out and actually accuse the elemental of lying, but Duncan well knew that the truth came in shades.

Aure's lips quirked, another learned trait he'd be horrified to realize he'd picked up. "He is a thief," he repeated, "but in this he is innocent. He stole the weapon from the demons, as written." A gust of air stirred Duncan's papers. "But he does not know how they came across the tool. And the werewolf is merely a foolish boy, but he may know more than he's letting on."

"How so?"

"This man that he spoke of, this Kynan, do you have a description?"

Duncan rifled through the scrolls to find the werewolf's statement, placing the weights so that the elemental could read.

"Hm. Bryce said he thought the man must be a demon," said Aure. He reached over and grabbed the revolver from the table, popping open the chamber to explore the inner mechanism. "I've never seen anything like this, but it would explain the deaths."

"Deaths?"

"In my investigations, I found a building where many Hunters lay dead, with tiny holes --"

Duncan whipped out one of the drawings. "Like this?"

"Yes, that is what I saw." He looked up at the magistrate. "You know of this?"

"The Watch believe that that gun," Duncan answered, "and the person who wielded it, committed those murders."

Aure snorted, a soft whisper of air that rustled the heavy parchment. "Murder? Not likely. Those demons are Hunters, the Queen's servants. Or, actually, they could belong to the Prince." He placed the gun back with the rest of the evidence.

Ink dripped blobs onto the parchment unnoticed. "The Queen?" Duncan echoed. "You mean the Queen of Darkness? She doesn't meddle in our city. There's a treaty!"

"The treaty only restricts her from overtly attacking or otherwise harming the inhabitants, but only while they reside within the city," Aure corrected. "However, once a person willfully engages in a business transaction with her or her minions, she is well within her rights to respond if threatened."

"Who would threaten the Demon Queen?"

Aure let his silence speak for him.

Duncan had often prided himself on his quick wit, but he had to admit he felt fairly lost here. "So, you're saying that what we've uncovered is just some petty, demonic spat?"

"Hardly," said Aure. He pulled out the other drawing, using air to whisk the parchment free and suspend it over the table. "See here? There are many demons, and they are all Hunters. From the angle of attack and the weapons, they fought one, maybe two individuals."

Duncan nodded. The reports he'd seen said the same thing.

"A dozen Hunters, sent after two men?" Aure let the parchment roll up and fall aside. "Seems unlikely to be a minor anything. I went there, and there was only one body carried from the warehouse. I lost the trail beneath the Cathedral --"

"The Cathedral! No demons can go near there! It's sacred!"

"That is what I believed as well, except, somehow, they are there. The distance is deep, below the catacombs, in the sewers. I can take you there, if you wish it."

"We will send the Watch," said Duncan, hastily making a note on a new scroll. "What did you find?"

"The Demon Queen has a brother, exiled at the end of the wars, for unspecified crimes. He has returned. My guess is that he is attempting a coup, and that," he poked a sliver of air at the rolled-up drawing, "is just the beginning of a civil war."

Duncan stared, not caring that his mouth hung open. "Shit," he finally whispered.

"Indeed. So," continued Aure, "the question is: what does this gun, a civil war, and our werewolf friend have in common?"

Duncan picked up the gun, eyes flicking over the rolls of notes. "Kynan. Who is he?"

"It is a demonic word, but beyond that, I do not know. We can send the thief to ask around, but that will take time, time we do not have. If the Demon Prince is willing to risk being so bold, then he must be close to making his move."

"We cannot interfere," objected Duncan.

"You are required to protect your city," said Aure calmly. "You have an obligation. The demons have already broken your treaty if they move through the city, even in the underground. Make no mistake," his tone deepened with the seriousness of his warning. "If the Prince wins, he will crush this city. Waylon's Crossing is the most powerful of the Lightworlder cities. He will focus his attentions here."

"I can't just run off to counsel with this!" hissed Duncan, lowering his voice. "It would send everyone into a panic! What if we're wrong?"

"Better to be prepared and wrong than not and dead."

Duncan shook his head. "I will not. Not until we have something concrete to offer instead of just suppositions."

Humans, thought Aure. How quickly they forgot. Of all the races, they fought the hardest during the war, lost the most, and gained the most. They were hardy creatures and they thrived on change, but only when forced upon them. If this was the Ancients choice, then Aure would abide by his decisions.

"Very well. Then might I suggest I speak to the werewolf?"

Startled to win the argument so quickly, Duncan agreed before he could question that the elemental would go and not himself. "What about the thief?" he asked, gathering his documents into their case.

"He is not involved in this," said Aure, though he knew better. The vampire would be very pissy indeed, if he knew that Aure didn't want him involved. He'd already expressed more than a passing interest in the boy, and Aure knew how insatiable Bryce's curiosity was.

"Involved or not," Duncan replied, "I must speak to him, and I have reports to file. Then we'll see about this werewolf."

"That's not a good idea."

"Why not?" Was the elemental hiding something? "He's my case."

Aure tried to phrase this delicately. With Bryce, he could say exactly what needed to be said. Bryce did not do subtlety well, which, given the nature of the profession he'd spent centuries pursuing, was a bit of an oddity. "He's a vampire."

"I know. Says so right here." Duncan waved the rolled-up document.

"Have you ever met a vampire before?" Aure asked. The city was practically infested with them. They were night creatures, and Waylon's Crossing offered many outlets to the Borderlands during the daytime.

"Aside from a few minutes ago? Well, actually, no." Duncan really wanted to meet this one. Vampires were fascinating creatures from what he'd heard and read. "Magistrates aren't normally assigned cases that can kill them." He never got anything fun. Duncan was the petty crime king in the city. Why he'd ever aspired to the position, he couldn't now recall.

"That seems rather unusual." Humans could be so dense.

"Yes, which is why I want to talk to him before someone realizes there's been a mistake."

Aure grabbed the magistrate's shoulder to stop him from leaving. "You cannot. He is a vampire." How could he be clearer?

Duncan gave the elemental a scathing look. "He's in lock-up. Do you really think he'll attack me?" A thief as cunning as this one would not be that stupid.

Perhaps a more upfront approach was in order. "He will attack you," Aure said. "He will not be able to stop himself." Set a piece of raw meat in front of a werewolf; will they take it? Of course, and likely bite off the hand doing the offering as well.

"What are you talking about?" Everything he'd ever read about vampires described their amazing levels of self-control. They had to be or be slaughtered as a menace.

"There is no vampire in this world, or the Borderlands, who can resist you," explained Aure patiently. "You are one of the Touched."

Duncan tried to hold back a snort of laughter and only managed to sound pained. "That's absurd!"

"Is it?" Aure replied coldly. He was not accustomed to being laughed at. "How old are you? In human terms, you look like a young man."

"So? Many members of my family have lived to a ripe old age, and I am healthy as an ox."

"Your blood is what keeps you from aging as do your peers," Aure insisted. "Have you never noticed anything strange or untoward about your family line? Such as a penchant for wearing rings of the Ancients, perhaps?"

Duncan's face clouded over. "What do you know about that?" he demanded, slamming his case shut on the last of the documents.

Humans. Sometimes they could be more possessive than leprechauns. "Your ring," he said. "I sensed its power when last we met."

"It's just a ring." This was foolish. There was no such thing as magic. Magic had vanished with the separating of the worlds and the creation of the Borderlands.

"Nothing exceptional?" Aure switched tactics again, deciding to give up on the ring for now. "No Elvin blood in your lines? History of twins or multiple births? Friendships with unicorns? An exceptional lover or mistress?"

Duncan shook his head. "We're just normal people."

"Priest?"

"What?"

"Were any of your ancestors part of the priesthood?" That was not unheard of, back before the wars, for one of the angels to bless their servants. They were called Lightbabies, Children of the Light, beautiful to look upon and beautiful in spirit. The unicorns bore them on their backs into battle. They brightened the lives of everything and everyone they touched. Although there were no more angels, their blood still carried on, popping up from time to time sometimes generations after the original Lightbaby.

Shrugging, Duncan said, "If you go back far enough, every family has a priest or three. The Priests of Light carved this city out of the wilderness."

"You have something in your blood which makes you irresistible to vampires and werewolves!" Aure snapped. "I can protect you." He must. "But, if you go into that room, you cannot be shocked by what you see."

"This is absurd."

"I thought every human child dreams of being something different," said Aure, resigned and not a little put out. To many non-humans a human's best aspect was their innate ability to imagine and create. "Did you never wonder 'what if?'"

"No. I was happy as a child."

Aure frowned. "The fact remains. You are not, entirely, human. I can sense it, the vampire can sense it, and even werewolves will be able to sense it." His tone softened just a bit. "The city would not have chosen you as its representative without it."

Duncan stared at the elemental silently. Did their kind lie? But then the question became why? Why lie about something like that? But, it seemed impossible to have lived his entire life ignorant of such a thing. "I need to speak with him," he found himself muttering.

"If that is what you desire."

Duncan nodded and reached for the door handle, the elemental again vanishing into thin air. He sighed. No one was ever going to believe this. They'd think him a crackpot for sure, or that the stress of the job was finally getting to him. He'd not only seen, but talked to an elemental, been told of unfathomable unknown dangers, and also been revealed as a possible Touched. Such things were more the realm of children's fairytales than real life.