He said nothing, didn’t even move. Still, she could have sworn something changed.
“Have you seen someone with glowing white eyes?”
“No.” Not entirely a lie since she wasn’t generally looking at herself in a mirror when her eyes turned into beacons and she oozed magic. “Have you?”
He skirted replying to ask, “Where are you, Agathe, daughter of Agathe?”
“None of your business.”
“You contacted me. I am making it my business.”
Her lips pursed. “I’m nowhere you can reach me.”
“Don’t be so sure. I can go more places than you imagine.” Quietly spoken, and yet a clear threat.
“Come near me, and I’ll kill you.”
“If I come near you, miamoor, you will beg to be my lover.” The murmur of it stroked Agathe, and it was absurd enough that she snorted. His brows lifted as if surprised. “You doubt this?”
“I think you’re a fool if you think I’d ever want a vhampir to touch me.” Her nose wrinkled. “You’re a monster.”
“According to you. My people see things differently.”
The use of my people sounded ominous. “Are you human?”
“Don’t insult me. While we might share some physical characteristics, we are much more evolved.”
The use of we bothered. “Are there many of your kind?”
“Not as many as we’d like, which is why we must act before it’s too late.”
“What do you want?”
“From you?” His gaze somehow managed to track her.
She felt it, head to toe—impossible given how closely she held the shard. Yet, she still imagined it and hastily said, “What do you want from humans? Why are you hunting us?” A bold question, but she’d feel stupid later if she didn’t at least try and ask.
“It’s a lengthy list. Are you sure we have time?” he mocked.
She narrowed it down to the most likely thing. “You want to kill all humans.”
“On the contrary, we’d starve without them.”
A blunt reminder that brought a second shiver, and not the good kind this time. “If you don’t want us all dead, then what are you doing attacking us?”
“Taking back what was stolen.”
An ominous declaration that made her wonder… “What was taken from you?”
“Everything.” An answer that wasn’t. Before she could ask him more, he said, “Have you ever heard of the orphan of the night?”
She stopped breathing before huffing, “Who?” And then, because everyone knew the poem, she had to admit, “Isn’t that a verse in a kids’ song?”
“Song.” He chuckled, and she almost laughed with him. She tightened her grip on the glass, the pain sharp enough to snap her out of any camaraderie. “It’s more than a song.”
“What does it mean?”
“That depends. Which version do you know?”
Easy enough to recite.
“Monsters, monsters sneak out to slay,
When night does fall and shadows day.
Close your doors and shutter your eaves,
For death in the mist does roam the streets.
The Goddess calls, and three will answer,
Soraers to mothers, for a purple-eyed disaster.
Monsters, monsters will come out and play,
When the fog does hide the bright rays.
The enemy comes for the orphan of night,
The hope of the Kingdom has a terrible plight.
One wrong choice and death will prevail,
And then what will happen to the humans so frail?
Monsters, monsters, have one thing to say,
Crunch.”
The mirror man couldn’t hide his astonishment. “Well, that’s certainly different.”
“You know another version?” The very idea that a vhampir could have…well, anything, surprised. A prejudice that no longer had any basis, judging by this conversation.
Meeting Zanir, Agathe now had to wonder how the vhampirs lived. Did they maintain some kind of society? Interestingly enough, every vhampir she’d met wore clothes—some more tattered than others. Zanir, for example, appeared finely dressed and not in the homespun stuff seen in most towns and villages. His clothes were made of some slinky material that seemed to be smooth, not rough, the stitching invisible. Better quality than even the King’s soldiers wore.
Where did he get it? Could the vhampir have made it?
“We are not the savages you think we are,” he said rather than reciting his version of the poem.
“You eat people and team up with monsters that also eat people.”
“The beasts are tools to be wielded.”
“And the people-eating part?”
“Do you partake of meat?” Smoothly asked.
She pinched her lips and knew that she sounded hypocritical as she said, “Not the same.” Again, he laughed, and her cheeks burned. “Don’t mock me.”
“But you’re so very entertaining. Maybe I’ll keep you when I find you.”
“Excuse me?” she blurted out. “You won’t ever get your hands on me.”
“A challenge. I accept.” He shifted off the wall and approached the mirror until they were face to face.
Through stiff lips, and despite her racing heart, she managed to say, “I’m going to find a way to get rid of the mist and take back the Abyss.”
“You and what army?”
“Everyone in King’s Valley, the entire valley really, is committed to fighting.” A lie since she had no idea.
“They can try.” The implication being that it wouldn’t matter.
“We know how to kill your kind.”
“My kind,” he repeated disparagingly. “Thus far, you’ve only encountered the ones gone mad. The least dangerous of us all.”
She had no doubt that he spoke the truth. There was a chilling confidence about him. It intrigued as much as it frightened. They were barely holding back the simple-minded monsters. Could they prevail against this?
“If you’re so all-mighty powerful, why do you need the Blessed? I know the vhampirs have been kidnapping them.” The moment she asked, his expression turned wary, and she realized this wasn’t the type of question most people would have asked, because it wasn’t common knowledge. She’d only recently learned of the disappearance of the purple-eyed because she’d been present when two were taken. It was then that Maric had informed her and the other soldiers that the loss of the Blessed had begun some time ago.
“Don’t concern yourself with their disappearance,” was his non-reply.
As if she’d ignore their plight. “Why are you taking them? What have you done to Korra and Neelie?” The girls had been part of the group travelling with Maric and the Soraers to the Citadel after their Abbae was attacked in force by monsters. Those poor girls never made it to the end of their trip.
“If you’re concerned about someone taken, you’ll have to speak to my brethren.”
The idea that there were others as loquacious as Zanir chilled Agathe to the bone. “How many of there are you?”
“Not as many as we used to have.” The same non-answer as before.