Her choice in home décor was as interesting as it had always been. A mural was painted on the domed ceiling, depicting a blood-orgy of debauchery, violence and torture, interrupted only by the extravagant chandelier that hung from its apex. The walls were lined with shelves supporting an immense wealth of books, the floor was covered with plush red carpeting, and the room was decorated with red silk drapes, red curtains and red upholstery bound to extravagant chairs. In one of those chairs, sat a very frightened-looking human girl, shakenly drinking wine and staring at the floor.
“If I had known you were feeding, I would have waited outside,” I frowned at Gloria.
“Oh, she’s not my meal,” Gloria replied with a wave of her hand. “She’s an honored guest, like yourself.”
“I’m sure,” I replied dryly to Gloria, “the line between guest and prisoner was always a thin one with you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Gloria laughed, pouring three glasses of wine. “Alexa is here by her own volition. Her husband and I are business partners, of sorts.”
“We haven’t heard anything,” the woman named Alexa said fearfully, “Gloria, shouldn’t we have heard something by now?”
“Hush,” Gloria said softly, placing a calming hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Terry’s just being careful. Your husband is a cautious man, and if things are taking longer than we thought, it is only because he is waiting for the perfect opportunity. He’ll be walking through that door in due time, trust me.”
Alexa watched me with panic and contempt, her fingers twisting about the stem of her wine glass, her eyes narrowing at me as though my presence was an insult to her.
“When the door opened, I thought it would be him,” Alexa muttered to me, barely managing to bring the wine to her lips, “but it was you. I let my hope rise, and now it’s dashed all over again. I can’t keep waiting like this!”
“Drink,” Gloria said softly, pushing the bottom of Alexa’s glass so that it tilted back, “and calm your nerves, woman. Your husband is being brave for you, so you must be brave for him.”
The woman downed the glass of wine in a single pull as Gloria soothingly caressed her hair. The combination of wine and Gloria’s touch seemed to calm the woman, and she tentatively relaxed into her chair.
“Normally, I would’ve given you my undivided attention,” Gloria said to me as she handed Brandon and I our wine, “but something has come up.”
“Do I want to know what this something is?” I asked, studying the nervous woman.
“It shouldn’t be a concern;” Gloria replied tersely, “the matter will be taken care of shortly.” Gloria glanced over her shoulder, and then leaned in so that Alexa couldn’t hear, “But, if Gods forbid, the matter isn’t resolved, I sure could use a woman of your unique skill set.”
“Those days are behind me,” I said between a sip of wine. “I’m a mother now.”
“Are you?” Gloria said, displaying a delighted smile whose sharp fangs turned it into a predatory grin. “That’s wonderful!”
“Unique skill set?” Brandon asked, looking at me.
“I used to kill people for money,” I said to the god, much to Gloria’s surprise.
“That information was given out rather freely,” Gloria said, glancing from me to Brandon, who was staring at me with wide eyes. “Who is this boy, Tera?”
The light from the chandelier suddenly turned a deep crimson, marking someone’s blood on the spiraled symbol outside. Gloria grinned over her shoulder at Alexa, who returned it with a hopeful smile of her own. Gloria strode past us, a slight spring in her graceful gait, and she opened the door. There was a severed head lying atop the door’s symbol, and a shadowy figure disappearing behind the corner. There was a moment of stillness, and then a shrill, horrible scream erupted from behind us. Gloria solemnly closed the door as Alexa collapsed to the floor, screeching into the carpeting and shaking with bouts of hysteria. Brandon pulled me close, his body quivering horribly as he tried to find safety in my touch. Gloria made a beeline for the inconsolable widow. She took the screeching woman’s head in her hands, tilted it to the side, and then sunk her fangs into her exposed throat. Alexa’s wails died to a whimper as Gloria seeped her venom into the woman’s heart. She released Alexa from her hold, and then gazed into her filming eyes.
“Look here, Alexa,” Gloria said softly, touching foreheads with Alexa until their eyes were inches apart, “look into me, and look deeply.”
Alexa’s face slackened, her body relaxed, and she slowly collapsed into a languid sprawl on the floor. Gloria guided the woman to her back, never breaking eye contact. She held her gaze above Alexa’s face, and gently stroked the woman’s tear-streaked cheek as she cooed her soft manipulation.
“Terry died, and it was horrible,” Gloria whispered to the widow, “but you’ve recovered, Alexa; the worst is over. You’ve grieved enough, you’ve suffered enough, and now it’s time to move on.”
Alexa stared dumbly into Gloria’s eyes, transfixed by their crimson depths. “Yes,” Alexa whispered back, her mind seeming to shift to the whim of the vampire’s words, “I’ve grieved, I’ve suffered, and now I need to move on.”
“It’s not safe for you here,” Gloria said, tenderly brushing strands of blonde hair from the woman’s face, “you must leave Drastin. Take the emergency stash Terry left you, and start a new life under a new name.”
“Yes,” Alexa said, nodding slightly, “yes, I will go to Grundin, where my parents live.”
“Your journey will be long,” Gloria said, “so you must rest now, child, and when you awake, you will feel like a new woman. You will abandon this city of pain and suffering, and live the rest of your days with a light heart.”
Alexa’s eyes drooped, and then closed. A blissful smile creased her lips, and her chest began to rise and fall with the steady thrum of sleeping breaths. Gloria let out a sigh, brushed her black mane back, and then picked the widow up like she weighed nothing at all. She draped Alexa’s sleeping body into a loveseat in the corner, then grabbed a wine bottle, and began to chug.
“What kind of enemy do you have,” I said slowly, “that knows where you live and doesn’t kill you?”
Gloria held out a delaying finger, tipping the bottle back and draining the last of it. She set the bottle down, wiped purple wine from blood-red lips, and then collapsed into her chair.
“An enemy who thinks the proverbial game is just that,” Gloria said, massaging her temples, “a game. I’m not sure if Night Eyes is an anarchist, a terrorist, or just fucking insane, but she’s so far beyond me, Tera. I don’t know how she does what she does, but no matter what I do, no matter what I try, she outmaneuvers me like I’m a child, and then rubs my nose in the shit.”
“Stronger than you, Gloria?” I said, sitting down across from her. “What is she?”
“A nymph,” Gloria said, “no older than that boy you brought. She was a street urchin as far as I know, though her history is mostly hearsay. She got a reputation as a common thug with a penchant for the obscene, then one day, she decided robbing banks was boring, and she took out the Heslin, Nartok and M’nique gangs.”
“Holy shit,” I whispered, “she killed the leaders of three syndicates in a day?”
“Ha!” Gloria laughed dryly, taking Alexa’s wine glass off the floor and nursing it. “No, Tera; she killed every single one of them, from the bosses to the messenger boys, in three hours. By herself.”
My jaw clicked open. Nartok, Heslin and M’nique had at least sixty members a piece when I was last in Drastin, and that was two-hundred years ago. Nymphs could bind with astral beings, but there wasn’t an astral being alive strong enough to give anyone that kind of power. Unless….
“How did she kill them?” I asked.
“No one knows,” Gloria shrugged, “some of the bodies had holes wider than my foot, some of them were strewn as though the gangsters had turned on each other. Night Eyes usually lets her boys do her dirty work, but when she gets involved personally, she follows your old rule.”
“No witnesses, only widows,” I muttered, recalling my younger years. Gloria nodded.
“That’s fucking badass,” Brandon whispered under his breath.
“Do you have any guesses about how Night Eyes does what she does?” I asked Gloria.
“I have a one,” Gloria said, leaning forward and swirling the wine in her glass, “do you know about Sentients?”
“Corruption, Wrath and Sorrow?” Brandon said, “They’re real?”
“Myths and campfire stories,” I said, not quite believing my own disbelief, “astral beings can’t think.”
“That’s a common misconception,” Gloria grunted dismissively. “Sentients aren’t astral beings, Tera; they’re the spirits that Life Givers kept alive, but didn’t bind with. Corruption and Sorrow were ancient before my time, but I personally knew the man who would become Wrath.”
Brandon and I exchanged a look. Any nerves he’d recovered since seeing Terry’s severed head were dashed, and his expression was warped with alarm.
“His name was Halok, and he was a great warrior, and he died in battle as great warriors do,” Gloria said, lost in her memory. “His brother, Furok, the orc Life Giver, kept him alive, but he didn’t love Halok in the way required for binding, nor did Halok have the affinity required for tethering. He gave Halok a new body, but without binding, Halok’s spirit could leave it as easily as a man leaves his house. He wasn’t bound to earthly tethers, but he was still dependent on Furok’s power to keep his form. When Furok died, Halok rotted like a fruit upon a dead vine until he became the core-essence of himself: his lust for battle; Wrath. Now he slumbers in the astral plane, waiting for a warrior worthy of his gifts, and his curses.” Gloria frowned to herself, oblivious to the tension in the room, “I don’t believe in karma, but I think Sentients are death’s answer to a Life Giver’s defiance. Any life a god preserves, they must love enough to let die again, or it will suffer a fate far worse than the end.”
Gloria sat in solemn silence, lost in the memory of a man she once knew, unaware of the time-bomb she’d ignited. Brandon’s face was turning from red to purple, his eyes were bulging from his sockets, his jaw was twitching, and the tendons on his neck were standing at attention. I knew I should have been consoling, I knew I should have been loving and understanding, but I couldn’t help myself; I burst into laughter. Gloria awoke from her contemplative state and looked sharply up at me, insulted that I would dare laugh at her story. Her scorn was short-lived however, because Brandon let out a scream of dismay, threw his hands into the air, and blasted alight with blue power. Stalks and vines streamed from his hands and coiled around the pillars surrounding the room, roses and orchids carpeted the floor, mutated insects buzzed around the dimmed windows, and a single perfect humming bird glowed an ethereal blue, and then solidified into the air.
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