Chapter Three “Clan Sweet Clan”

A look at Merik's life, and his own darker secrets.

Chapter Three

“Clan Sweet Clan”

 

 

 

 

 

            Merik stood outside his clan’s estate staring at the large, grey and green, building.  He never felt so small, as he did when in its presence, and tonight even smaller.  Tonight even the soft climbing vines seemed harassing in the sharp moonlight.  They looked as if they were about to come alive and pull him inside to awaiting judgment.  As if they knew he had almost confessed all to Katherine.  His footfalls echoed on the old stone path.  Merik veered on to the plush lawn, carefully avoiding the first batch of fallen autumn leaves, to silence his walking.  No one needed to know where he was or what he had been doing.  Above all else, no one needed to know whom he had been doing it with.

            Merik observed the height of the building carefully.  It was built like a mountain, three stories high, and the middle of it peaking to a full fourth story in height.  The classic windows, interspersed between columns of brick seemed plentiful, but were no more than a façade.  Something to make the estate “normal” in appearance.  Some had fake lights in them.  Some had soft glows trapped behind fake curtains.  None of them, Merik knew, led inside the actual building.

Merik counted out the windows carefully, determining which one would lead to his room, if it were not walled off from the inside.  East wing.  Second floor.  One.  Two…  Ten…  Eleven…  In all the years he had been here, he had never studied the building like he did tonight.  He made stealthy strides along the elegant brick lay, looking for the closest true access point.  Finding his target, he took firm grip on the climbing vines.  It was no menial task to a man of inexperience.  Merik however found his way with ease.  His fingers did not slip, and he knew his footing would not falter.  Still, by time he reached the second story window leading into a stairwell, he was thankful he did not have another level to scale.

            Voices of his clanmates could be heard vibrantly gathered a floor below.  He peered down his simple corridor, just yards away from the sanctuary of his room now.  Empty.  He did it.  No one noticed his absence or return.  He gave his door’s brass knob a twist and allowed it to swing forward to his humble quarters.  The corridor’s light that accompanied him into the room caressed the floor, softly stopping at a glimpse of purple fabric.  His sight traveled up the splendidly colored skirt to find its owner.  A gorgeous female vampire sat on his bed, long silky strands of blonde hair framed her calm features.

            Merik kept his composure though he was certain his heart was lodged in his throat.  He was caught.  “Hello, Elder.”

            “Merik.”  Azriel, the clan witch and protector, serenely nodded back greeting him.  “Santeego bids to see you.”

            “Tonight?”  Merik questioned.

            Azriel stood to lead the way.  Her long purple dress conformed to her thin but beautifully curved body.  The skirt flowed behind her as she passed.  “He awaits us in the training forum.”

            Merik sighed.  There was little point in hiding what he had been up to the past two nights.  His guilty face, no matter how he tried to hide it, would no doubt reveal all.  Santeego, the clan’s Grand Sire, was a vampire of well over four hundred years.  Ignorant myths about vampires having psychic abilities to read minds aside, with that age comes much wisdom, and an uncanny ability to read people.

Santeego was more than the leader of the entire clan.  He was like a father to Merik.  Gunder, the one who had sired Merik, was banished from the clan, in Merik’s first week of vampyric life, and Santeego took it upon himself to stand in as surrogate.

            Merik followed Azriel down the halls where he had to pass through, and ignore clusters of, gossiping clanmates.  His absence the past two nights did not go as unrecognized as he presumed.   Fortunately the route to the training forum was not as crowded as other areas of the building.  Fighting was not an interest to many of the clan, and most only studied the arts of combat as a defensive requirement.  Merik on the other hand was very familiar with its interior.

            Merik removed his shoes and socks respectfully and bowed at the entrance before stepping through the screen door.  The room was fashioned after a traditional Japanese Dojo.  Santeego sat alone at the head of the room in a meditative state.  He was kneeling, back straight, a hand resting on the knee of each leg.  His eyes remained closed, his lanky brown-black hair neatly combed straight.  Merik’s bare feet were light on the silky hardwood floor as he crossed the dojo to sit before Santeego patiently.  He kneeled, the same as his mentor, and as dojo etiquette dictated, pressed his body flat as a respectful bow to him.   

            Azriel also bowed into the room sliding the screen shut behind her. 

            Santeego opened his eyes.  “You’ve been out, Merik.  Would you like to share?”

            Merik lowered his eyes.  “I’m sorry.  I went out in search of the Vega Orb, Grand Sire.”

            “That task was to be left to the council of elders.”  Santeego calmly reprimanded.  “You knew this, Merik.”

            “Yes sire,” he conceded.

            “The six eldest vampires of our clan and I are putting great effort towards retrieving information on the qualities and whereabouts of the talisman.  You are not yet on the council, are you, Merik?”

            Merik needlessly shook his head

            “And how many are in line for succession to council before you, Merik?”  Santeego went on to be sure he made his point clear.

            “More than twenty, Sire.  I don’t know the exact number.”  He answered.

            “Twenty six to be exact.”  Santeego elaborated.  “In the past your ambition has served us well.  You have worked closely with the elders and to great benefit.  However, I fear this has set a sense of privilege in you.  We have already lost three lives to our rivals in this year past alone.  Allowing you to participate in this particular battle would be careless, I feel.”

            “Sire, if I may, I feel a personal duty�"”

            “I am exceptionally aware of your past history with our rivals Grand Sire, Merik.”  Santeego interrupted.  “It is plain to me, the torment that Gunder has introduced you to.” 

            “Yes, Sir.”  Merik’s hands were no longer laying flat on each knee, but were balled into tight fists.

            Merik struggled to keep silent.  It would be disrespectful to argue with Santeego, no matter how he wished to plead for the opportunity to continue his research.  Not even an elder would be permitted such behavior, with the exception of Azriel.

            Azriel finally approached sensing his unease, and perhaps more.  “What is it that you have found, Merik?”

            Merik pounced on the opportunity to speak out.  “The Vega Orb is a time gate.”

            Azriel’s chin lifted as she stepped around him into view.  Her voice remained as calm and graceful as her footing on the high polished wood.  “You acquired this information on your own?”

            Merik lowered his gaze at once.  Kat…  He forgot about Kat.  About protecting her…  “No Elder.”

            Santeego waited patiently for Merik to continue.  There was no denying the impression made by Merik’s remarkable efficiency.  The team Santeego had delegated research of the orb to, had not made such a discovery in months.

             Merik was dreading this part, “A young woman helped me; a witch.”

            Santeego’s and Azriel’s eyes met knowing this was a significant piece of information.  Witch’s, if not vampyric, were a potential threat.  Santeego nodded breaking eye contact as if communicating some unspoken truth with Azriel.  “And this witch, does she have suspicions of your nature?”

            Merik had a sinking dread in the pit of his stomach.  If asked he would have to confess that he had a desire to reveal that he was a vampire.  The mere act of thinking about her still filled him with a strong urge to do so.

            “Merik?”  Santeego prompted for response.

            “No, Sir.  I don’t believe she does.”

            Santeego frowned.  “Azriel keeps us well protected with her magic.  It would be difficult for a mortal witch to read our minds, or sense what we are, but not all together impossible.  An exceptionally strong witch may have such a capability.  You must exercise caution in such encounters.  With that said, is there something more you would like to share about your encounter with this girl?”

            “Yes, Sir.”  Merik replied, though he wanted to say, “no.”  He readied himself, and looked to Azriel knowing she would be analyzing everything he would say now.  “I don’t know if it were a spell, or if it were something else… I never felt anything quite…  I had an urge, a desire, to reveal myself to her.”

            Santeego did not seem as upset as Merik had anticipated.  Instead his eyes seemed to be laughing, though his mouth was solemn.  “I will ask, Merik, and be candid, of how many years is this woman?”

            Merik stutter an answer, unsure why it was questioned to begin with. “Mid twenties, perhaps?  I can’t be sure.” 

            Santeego went on despite Merik’s confusion.  “And is she of an attractive station?”

            Merik squinted.  “Are you asking if she’s pretty?”

            “Hmm,” Santeego made a soothing sound as if to affirm his meaning.

            “I- I don’t know.”  Merik rambled an insecure answer.  “Most men would call her average, I think.  She doesn’t paint her face or make show of her figure.  She’s modest.”  Modest and perfect, he thought.

            “I did not ask if most men find her attractive; I inquired as to your feelings,” Santeego clarified.

            Merik shifted uneasy and made his best attempt at sounding unemotional.  As if giving a clinical analysis of Kat’s appearance.  “Yes.  I would say she’s very beautiful.”

            “I think the time has come that you further explain how you came to realize your alliance with her.”  Santeego asked for Merik to start at the beginning.

            Merik sighed tracing the events back to his fall from the window.  He relived Katherine’s rescuing him, and how he had persuaded her to allow him access to the library after hours.  He paused only at the part when Paul demanded identification.

            “Azriel, you remember that plastic card I made that you fixed for me?”  Merik reached for his wallet.

            “The one you broke into the Department of Moving Vehicles to create?”  Azriel asked with disproval.  “The one you failed to imagine a believable year for birth?”

            “Department of Motor Vehicles, Elder.”  Merik corrected respectfully.  “Yes.  The glamour spell you used to change it wore off.”  Merik handed her the card without looking.

            “It what?”  Azriel accepted the plastic rectangle from him.  She looked wounded by the information somehow.  “It shouldn’t have.”

            “I hadn’t noticed before the security guard mentioned it.  Thankfully they believed the date was an error.”

            “Plausible.”  Santeego agreed.  “Still, the risks you take are far too great.  I think it was wise to want identification.  The world is changing around us, and we must learn to adapt with it.  It is important to keep with current customs, and habits.  However your execution of the notion was ill prepared.  We hold a dozen superlative artists within our walls, each perfectly capable of forging such a simplistic item.”

            “I wasn’t thinking, Sire.”  Merik lied.  Truth was, he just didn’t want to impose on the clans artisans for something so trivial when he knew he could accomplish it on his own.

            “I don’t think it was a question of thinking, Merik.  I believe it was an issue of trust.”  Santeego got up, and sat at Merik’s side instead of at the head of the room. 

            Merik did not answer.

            “It is no secret that you have not found trust easy since Gunder’s betrayal.  I know your struggle to trust again, and am happy that you do your best to trust in me.”

            Merik bowed his head.  “I’ve always trusted you.”

            “If that were true, why not tell me that you were venturing out in search of the orb?”

            “I didn’t wish to disappoint you.”

             “You have never disappointed me, Merik; I merely worry at times.  As for your luck…”  Santeego placed a fatherly hand on Merik’s shoulder.”  I suppose will find myself forever envious.”

            “Sire?”

            “You have an advantage the elders are without.  They cannot visit the library in your stead.  Having access to those texts was granted to you alone.  Thus, I will grant your continued efforts in researching for now.”

            Merik couldn’t believe his ears.  He had permission, not only to continue, but to do so without the council hovering over his shoulder.

            “You will of course, report all findings to myself or Azriel, no matter how insignificant you may think them at the time.  Understood?”

            Merik turned to better face Santeego.  Placing both hands on the floor in front of him, he bowed as a continued sign of respect, and appreciation.  “Of course, Sire.”

            Santeego bowed back graciously.  “It will be dawn soon.  Go get some blood in your stomach and get some rest.”

            Merik stood to take his leave.  “I’m not really that hungry.”

            “Nonsense.”  Santeego insisted with fatherly concern.  “A fresh order of beef’s blood just arrived.  You need your strength.”

            Merik slid the wood screen open and gave a backward glance at the grand sire, while bowing out of the room.

            Santeego sighed, left alone with Azriel.

            She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear observing Santeego’s tired composure.  “Something is troubling you?”

            His face showed signs of deep concentration.  “This girl…  The witch.  Call it intuition.  Something tells me she is significant.  I wish for you to look into the matter for me.  I don’t want any harm to befall our young Merik.”

            “Of course.”  Azriel concurred, also very concerned for Merik’s safety.  Her hazel eyes settled uneasily upon the card Merik wished for her to fix.

            Santeego noted her excessive silence.  “Sometimes more is communicated by not speaking at all, Azriel.  Am I to ask what is causing you distress?”

            Azriel did not hesitate to respond.  She may be lower in vampyric station than Santeego, but they held each other as equals.  “I have distaste for your decision.  How can you not harbor disquiet in your breast for�"”

            Santeego grimaced.  “This is why you or I don’t take frequent visits out of the estate anymore.  You can no longer state things in that manner.  You should have simply asked why I’m not upset with�"”

            “Do not lecture my speech at a time like this!” Azriel warned.  “You are not going to confuse my argument.  How do you not worry for his desire to reveal himself?”

            “You do?”  Santeego asked, watching Azriel nod stiffly once in reply.  “Every vampire is eventually tempted, at least once, out of infatuation.  It’s nothing more.  You heard Merik speak of her.  This girl likely reminds him of the women of his youth.  It’s nothing more.  He resisted, and I don’t fear any further temptation.”

            Azriel was not convinced.  “I remember a time you failed to resist, and it almost caused a mortal’s death.”

            Santeego nodded agreeing that he was foolhardy.  “I was… imprudent.  Merik is not as I once was.  He has more respect for life, and knows the consequences of his actions.”

            “Does he?” Azriel challenged.

            Santeego began to lose patience. “Play no games, and say what you wish.”

            “You let him get away with far too much.  He has been shown favoritism because of your guilt.”  Azriel warned, “You brush his new found affection for a mortal aside, when you know full well that our involvement with mortals carries strict guidelines.  Romantic relationships with them are forbidden to us.  Least of all with a human inclined to the ways of magic.”

            “You needn’t lecture me on our ways, Azriel!”  Santeego grew annoyed.  “Perhaps he’s finally moving on!”

            “Merik does not even drink of humans!  He will not simply use this girl to redeem his lust!”  Azriel began to shout.  “You invite danger by allowing him to risk wanting more!”

            “What is it that truly upsets you!?”

            “She’s a WITCH Santeego!”  Azriel blurted out thrusting the plastic card into his hand.  “You know as well as I that witch’s can be dangerous creatures.  I have never had a spell fade on it’s own before.  She must be powerful if this plastic revealed his true birth year.”

            Santeego looked at the card not seeing anything out of place.  “I still don’t see why you are so concerned.  You have already remedied the problem.  It states that Merik is twenty four.”

            “I didn’t fix it.”  Azriel paused, making large efforts to compose herself.  She once again found her voice in misty soft tones.  “Merik must not have looked at it since it was brought to his attention that night.  I believe the spell only dimmed in the presence of the girl.”

            “So, you’re saying the girl temporarily broke your spell?”  Santeego blinked letting the full weight of the information sink in.  “Without even trying?”  Santeego sighed defeated.  He did not have the energy to fight.  “Very well, if it bothers you so, call for Desiree.”

            “Desiree?”  Azriel questioned.

            “You can recommend someone better suited for the task?”  Santeego snapped, exhausted.

            Azriel surrendered, turning on heel.  She bowed out of the room still aggravated.  She had not been so cross with Santeego in decades, and his wishing Desiree to now be involved provoked her anger further.

            Desiree, much like Azriel, was slender in form with extremely long flowing blond hair.  And though she was a handful of years younger in appearance than Azriel, having been given the vampyric gift at the tender mortal age of nineteen, they would often be mistaken for each other at first glance.  

            It was only their distinct difference in choice of clothing styles, however, that saved many from confusion.  Azriel kept her traditional senses, and wore long skirts and significant bands around one arm as evidence of her station as a Raraji high priestess.  Desiree had no arm bands or magical talents of her own, and had the tendency of keeping with current fashions, often baring more skin than cloth.

            Azriel found her way into the dining hall where she found Desiree, not surprisingly with Merik, badgering him about where he had been.

            “For the last time Desiree, go away.”  Merik demanded exasperated.  He sat at a dramatically long table with an expression of fatigue, holding a chalice.

            “Come on, Merik.  What was all that about?  The entire clan was buzzing all night.”  Desiree persisted.

            Merik stared into his beef’s blood.  “I mean it, Desiree.  Leave me alone!”

            “Desiree!”  Azriel called.

            Desiree closed her eyes like a student about to be scolded by their teacher.  She slowly turned around to face her.

            Azriel bid her forward.  “Come with me please.”

            Merik watched them depart out of the corner of his eye feeling a twinge of guilt.  He wiped a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth wondering if he was to blame.

            Desiree paced silently behind Azriel back to see Santeego.  The halls were no longer humming with activity of passing vampires, but quiet now as dawn steadily approached.  She watched the swaying bands from Azriel’s arm almost hypnotically.  Each long ribbon had a tiny round metal charm tied to the end of it.  She finally spoke in attempt to feel out the extent of her dilemma.  “I didn’t mean anything by it, Azriel,” she began almost apologetic.  “I didn’t mean to pry.  I was just curious.”

            Azriel allowed Desiree to continue to believe she was about to be reprimanded.  “You have always shown a curiosity in Merik.  I think it’s time to discuss that.”

            Desiree sighed.  “It’s not that big of a deal.”

            “Santeego needs to speak with you,” Azriel stated elusively.

            “Damn, you need to lighten up,” she whined.

            Azriel turned, looking gravely down on Desiree.

            “Apologies, Elder.”  Desiree made wide eyed amends.  She lowered her head shamefully to the floor.  Allowing Azriel to continue her silent lead to the dojo she kept a conscious effort to control herself.

            Azriel slid open the door and they had barely bowed in before Santeego started speaking.

            “Dawn is approaching so I will keep this brief.  I am asking a mission of you.”

            Desiree expressed intrigue sitting in front of the grand sire as Merik had done before.

            “The kind that does not require questions.”  Santeego clearly defined.  “You are to keep close watch over Merik.”

            “That’s all?”  Desiree almost laughed for the drama of being brought here.  “Hang out with Merik?  I thought I was in some real trouble for a moment.”

            “You are not to ‘hang out’ with Merik,” Santeego assured.  “Your mission is strictly covert.  Track him, protect him if need be, but keep your distance.  Under no circumstances are you to allow Merik to know you are there.  Report any conflicts to me.”

            A heavy chime of a large brass bell rang out bringing the message of dawn’s first light to the clan.

            Desiree was put back on edge by the grand sire’s tone.  “What is it that Merik is doing that needs guard, Sire?”

            “See me tomorrow.  It’s late and I do not wish to divulge now.  The first morning bell has already rung.  Evening next, the three of us shall meet at the temple.  The story will be done justice there.”  Santeego bowed so low that his hair brushed the pale wood floor.

            “Sire, I don’t�"”

            “Tomorrow, Desiree.”  Santeego insisted.

            Desire bowed accepting that no more was to be said and left feeling overwhelmed.  On her way to her room she crossed Merik’s path once more.

            He appeared to be in a more docile mood now that he had some blood in him.  “Did you get in trouble?”

            She seriously considered not responding for a moment.  Ignoring him would serve him well for the way he had acted toward her in the dining hall.  Her stubbornness only lasted a few seconds before she swallowed her pride and answered.  She never could stay angry with him.  “No.  I didn’t get in trouble.”

            “I’m glad.”  Merik walked with her as their rooms were housed in the same area of the building.  “I’m sorry I was a bit standoffish before.

            Desiree shrugged.  “Eh, when aren’t you?  If I let a little thing like that bother me it wouldn’t make for a very good friendship now would it?”

            “I s’pose not.”  Merik kept his eyes to the floor watching the patterned carpet as they journeyed.  A small patch of sun escaped a heavily curtained window and he edged around it carefully.  “So what did they want you for?”

            Desiree evaded his inquiry with one of her own.  “You first.  I saw Azriel march you in there before me.  The word going around is that you’ve been stepping on the elders’ toes again.”

            “Who said that?”  Merik looked at her with significance.

            “Everyone.”  Desiree answered truthfully.  “You went off without telling anyone where to, two nights in a row.  This isn’t a prison, Merik.  We are free to come and go as we please, but you’re at high risk out there.  Everyone knows Gunder has some kind of obsession with you.”

            Merik seemed to draw into himself like a turtle sensing danger.  “I went in search of the Vega Orb.”

            “YOU WHAT?”  Desiree felt she was in trouble again.

            “Hey keep it down out there!”  A muffled voice came from a random room they were passing.

            “Are you insane?  Gunder’s clan has already killed over that thing three times this year, and we don’t even know what it does.”

            “That’s why I went.  This is my fight.  I can’t let people keep dying because of me.”  He was hard set in his decision.  “Gunder has to be stopped, and it will be by my hand.”

            “Merik…”  Desiree was in shock, almost horror struck.  “I know something happened between you and your sire but you can’t keep putting yourself in such danger like this.”

            “You can’t possibly understand what it’s like having a mad man sire you.”

            “That isn’t fair.”  Desiree looked hurt.  “You know Azriel was my sire.”

            “My point exactly,” Merik ranted.  “You will never be able to comprehend what I’ve gone through.  You’ll never grasp what Gunder has done to me.”   

            Desiree put her hands up stopping Merik from saying anymore.  “Look.  It’s daybreak.  We’re both tired and I’m not ready to go into this with you again.  We’ve been through this too many times.”  She walked the last few yards to her room alone.  “When you’re willing to finally share what it was that Gunder did to piss you off so much, we’ll finish this discussion.”

            Merik watched her close the door without argument.  Deep down he felt she was right.  She had asked him to share what happened in his past many more times than he could count.  Part of him wished she could know, but it was no secret Desiree held great interest in him.  If he chose to share, he was afraid it would insight false hope that he cared for her as more than a friend.

            Merik climbed the stairs at the end of the hall to his floor thinking deeply.  He had no desire for romantic endeavors.  They were strictly part of his mortal past and nothing more.  Complicated messes that brought only pain and suffering, he was done with them.

            Opening his bedroom door halfheartedly he entered the gloomy surroundings.  He sat on the bed pulling off one shoe at a time without bothering to unlace them.  It’s been fifty four years now that Desiree had been following him around like a love struck puppy.  Not that she was reserved only to him.  He was merely her first choice for some mysterious reason.  She found her casual affections elsewhere, just as any of his clan, making her very popular with the male and sometimes female vampires alike.  This was common place amongst his kind but he could not bring himself to part from his monogamous ways.  If he was to find himself in a relationship he had to know they were the only ones for each other.

Casual encounters were the most encouraged form of activity amongst vampires.  Even casual encounters with mortals were tolerated, though never anything more.  And despite love between a vampire and mortal being strictly forbidden, it was not unheard of for vampires to have lasting relationships amongst themselves.  There was even suspicion that Santeego and Azriel had once had such an interlude.  But unpleasant stories always seemed to haunt new vampire couples about legendary relationships that ended in betrayal and bloodshed.  Yes, if Azriel and Santeego ever did have a romance, they were lucky to have both escaped the relationship alive.  Lacking confidence in his affections for Desiree, he could not risk such a tragic ending to their friendship.  Merik was sure he would never make it more than a hundred years without Desiree getting on his nerves.     

              He wished there was some way he could find someone that he did hold enough confidence to live out the rest of his vampyric years with.  He wished someone could somehow magically enter his life to save him from the dark, and give him new purpose.

            He lay down on his beat up mattress.  What he wanted was impossible.  After all, what he really wanted was to have her back.