Written with Olivia Romig
The night came, creeping through the silent forests and sweeping plains of the valley with an unstoppable disregard, even as the villagers shuffled into the meager safety offered by their tents. Fear was tangible in the air–the villagers knew that the darkness meant the coming of the hunters. In the shelter of their leather homes, the people would shiver with fear at the sound of the howling, waiting for the sound of paws in the snow to fade.
The furred beasts prowled the perimeter of the village, but soon turned to leave. Humans were too difficult a prey, with their dogs and their fire, and so the wolves would not bother them that night. But the moonlight caught on the eyes of a hunter who was not so easily deterred. Eyes locked upon the meager collection of tents, he remained perched in the icy tree, his bare feet dangling from the branch he sat on. He did not feel the chilling breathing of the wind or the frozen branch under him. All he felt was the heat from the tents. He could almost taste it on the breeze: their blood.
He had no village, no home. No family. There were others like him–he had met three–but they were not, nor could ever be, his family. They were competition, predators who wanted to take his territory. The others spoke the strange language the villagers used, and they could remember the time when humans had huddled in caves before the tents were made. He could not remember those days. His first memory was a flash of smoke and the faint crying of a child; he had been an adolescent, then. Time had passed, by the measure of the humans, and he had grown and grown. Then, one summer, he had wanted to grow no more, and never seemed to age past twenty winters after that day.
Instinct had been his teacher, or so the predator had always assumed. Trial and error, perhaps, had had their hand in his training as well, though it had been his most painful instructor. He still had scars from walking into a village and trying to feed on the first human he had come across. There was something decidedly macabre about bleeding without being able to die only to nearly starve to death later. It was astounding he had survived those mistakes–he certainly did not know how he had managed.
There was only one other being he could communicate with, but he did not trust her. Her name was Kah-yah, and he remembered her.
She had wandered from her village–foolish human–and into the forest, not even bothering to bring another woman with her. He could remember the way she hummed a strange, lilting tune as she had worked at picking berries. Still recovering from a wound from another village, the hunter had watched her, thinking she might be his next meal, but then he had taken a closer look at the girl. Where her skin was left bare by the furs her kind wore, he could see the delicate bones being pulled about by what little muscle she had. And then she noticed him. Staring into her large, shadowed eyes, the hunter had realized one very important, life altering thing: the girl would make an awful meal.
Kah-yah had stared at him for several moments before offering him a smile–something the hunter had never seen before. She had started to talk to him in the strange, gutteral language that her people used, and he snarled at her. The girl had no sense of self preservation: she had laughed at his snarling and decided to call him Py-tr, since he had not given her a name to call him by. She became a strange presence in his life after that. Almost every day the human would find time to come and see him; he stayed only because the girl seemed useful. Slowly, with the patience of a glacier, Kah-yah had taught him how to speak the language of her people, and had even taken the time to teach him how to blend in with them, as if he were a part of her clan.
Her lessons had been the most useful in keeping him alive. Instead of being chased from villages, he had been able to slip into their society, pick his prey, and disappear in the dark of the night without so much as a scratch coming to his person. But, he would always return to Kah-yah. She was not like him, not one of his kind, but she offered him help and was always welcoming.
He took a little comfort of her, though he never knew why she had taken such an interest in him. Whenever he asked, she simply responded that she loved him. He did not know what love was, so he did not care.
Py-tr shifted on the branch as he thought of Kah-yah; he did not want to think about her when he was so hungry. Even from so far away he could smell the humans’ warm blood and hear the almost frantic pounding of their hearts; but, the heart in the tent nearest the woods seemed to call to him the loudest.
Her village would be next.
***
Kah-yah had a family, once. If she closed her eyes and forced everything else from her mind she could almost conjure a memory of a tall man with a thick beard and a roaring laugh, her father. But then someone would yell for her, and the shimmering train of thought would be gone. In her dreams, though, the girl found her escape. Sleep opened a door to seemingly a hundred different lifetimes, many of which offered her the happiness that wakefulness denied her. Once Kah-yah had tried to explain dreaming to one of the other women in the village who at least tolerated her, but the woman had not believed her. Dreams were a luxury that the others did not have the strength for, at the end of the day; her life at the edge of the village had given her that one gift.
When her father had died, many of the villagers had said that Kah-yah was too much of a burden to keep alive. After all, Kah-yah’s birth had taken her mother’s life, and there was nothing to stop her from bringing bad luck to them all. Only the oracle’s interference had spared her life. Kah-yah’s gray eyes were like two polished stones found at the bottom of the river, and the oracle had declared that it was a sign. Death was all that waited for someone at the bottom of the river, and her eyes seemed to have come from death’s own hand. He had taken the hue of her eyes as a sign that her death was not to be of their choosing.
Regardless of the oracle’s orders to keep the girl alive, very few had made any effort to help her. Kah-yah had gotten used to being the last to eat at every meal, and had learned long ago that hunger pains could be ignored with concentrated effort. Ultimately her salvation had come in the form of a skill: sewing. Before his death, Kay-yah’s father had taught his daughter how to make thread from the intestines of his kills and needles from the bones. Kah-yah had then taken over her mother’s work of sewing the furs her father brought home into clothing, and the extra years showed in her ability to make the sturdiest stitches and the best fitting outfits.
That night, as the girl lay in the stifling darkness of her tent, a simple thing she had patched together herself from the scraps left about by the villagers, Kah-yah held her fingers up and peered at them. Of course, they were not visible in the dark, but she knew what would be there if she could see theme . The ends of her fingers were sore from the thread and needle rubbing across her skin, and all sorts of scars laced themselves over the dark tan surface of her flesh. They were not the hands of a gatherer or mother, like the respectable women in the village, but they were her hands, even with their myriad of callouses. Kah-yah smiled slightly: she wondered if Py-tr liked her hands. He did not seem to like the sorts of things the other men liked, so the girl had at least a leaf of a chance that he would at least fancy them a little. That thought pleased Kah-yah to no end, and she allowed her hands to drop to rest on her chest. Just thinking of him, with his wild eyes and feral snarl, made the blood pound in her veins and her stomach tighten pleasantly. Py-tr was the only person in her life that ever bothered to look at her when she spoke; and, Kah-yah had known she loved him from the moment the vampyre had hissed at her from atop a rock in the forest. If only he would allow himself to understand love…
Sighing, the girl turned over and snuggled further into the warmth provided by her furs. One day the stolen blood would sing in his veins, and then he too would understand. She smiled at the thought and drifted off into a dream of worlds where Py-tr smiled at her as he declared that she could be his mate. That would be even better than having a strong hunter who could bring her fresh meat and furs to cover the floor of her tent with. After all, he was what she dreamed of.
The morning came into the tent and all but bit Kah-yah. During the night she had tossed and turned, and the process had stripped her of the protection of what furs she had. Shivering, the young creature pulled her eyes open and took in the sight of the flap of her tent that had blown open. She sighed. The boys in the village were nasty whelps: they liked unhooking the flap of her tent to allow the cold in. They probably thought it would be quite funny if she died of chill because of it. Well, there was nothing to be done now. It only took her a matter of moments to pull on some furs and boots, and then she was out in the cold morning air. Moving quickly, she trotted over to the largest tent in the camp and bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited for the woman who was standing there to notice her. Finally He-gel turned her attention to Kah-yah and motioned to a pile of furs that were to be turned into a new coat for her mate, a fierce man who was considered the leader of the village. He-gel was even kind enough to provide Kah-yah with some dried meat and a few berries to keep her from withering away, and the girl happily tucked herself on a log to begin her work. The passing of an hour saw the village stir and move into the rituals of the morning, but this time something was different. One of the women came to tell He-gel that a strange man had been wandering about, and a bet was quickly placed on how long he would survive in the cold. Kah-yah could feel her heart begin to pound wildly in her chest. It had to be Py-tr.
***
Py-tr sighed. He knew why they stared at him: he was novel with his pale skin and pale hair and pale eyes. Unless they had seen another of his kind, he was an unfathomable unknown.
He could sense her nearby, could practically feel her gray gaze burning itself into his flesh, but did not bother to look in her direction.
Some of the men in the village, beginning to trust him when he pulled out some dried jerky, led him towards the fire. Sitting him roughly on a log, they handed him a bowl full of some kind of broth. He drank it quickly, to give the semblance of needing that kind of food, but it went down like mud and he tried not to grimace. They had set him down with the women- a great insult that he had to endure- and then left him to deliberate. A few of the men thought it would be safer to just kill Py-tr–he was a stranger who could bring them bad luck–while others thought it would be wiser to train him as a hunter. Py-tr thought that both ideas were laughable, but the latter would at least give him a place in their community.
The men suddenly fell silent. Amused by the silence, Py-tr tore his gaze from the gaggle of men and turned it towards the tent they were staring at. His bright blue eyes widened a bit when he saw an old man exit the tent. The oracle.
Py-tr did not trust oracles, they were such unpredictable things. Some of the other predators swore that they had been created by oracles, which was an unsettling prospect, but Py-tr doubted those claims. Most oracles Py-tr had seen had been unable to predict their next meal, let alone what the weather might be or what a particular omen meant.
He was distracted from his thoughts when some of the nearby women giggled. Glancing at them from the corner of an eye, Py-tr smiled; he knew why they did it. Humans, at times, were physically attractive, but Py-tr’s kind had been made to be beyond that. They were dazzling and appealing in every way–a method to lure their prey in. It was an easy trick, like a beautiful plant hiding poison in its nectar, and one that he used shamelessly. Py-tr grinned at a particularly shy woman with thick ebony hair and eyes like the mud of the ocean. He doubted that these people had ever seen the ocean, though.
The woman with the mud colored eyes smiled and let her eyes drop to rest on the ground, which left Py-tr free to turn his attention to Kah-yah. He barely resisted the urge to stare at her without shame–she probably would not like it if he did. Py-tr was confused by the look on Kah-yah’s face. Her stone-gray eyes were hard, and her hands were curled so tightly about the fur she had been working on that her knuckles had turned white. He blinked–she was the most confusing creature he had ever met.
Shoving aside the impulse to go and ask the woman what was wrong, Py-tr settled for giving her a wink before turning his attention back to the oracle. He stood when ordered, and gave the oracle a glance with his flat blue eyes. The oracle pushed back strands of thick, matted black hair that was strung with shells and feathers, and stared at Py-tr with his dark gray eyes. Idly, Py-tr wondered how the man managed to see well enough to walk, but dismissed the thought as the oracle reached out to touch him. He flinched and thought of running, but he restrained himself and forced his body to remain still, as if he was dead. The oracle’s fingers were withered and dry as they brushed over Py-tr’s smooth skin, and the predator could not help but shiver at the low laugh the old man gave.
Pulling his hands back, the oracle grinned at Py-tr and spoke in a language that had been unused for more than a hundred years. “Night One,” the oracle said in that dead language, “I knew you would find your way to me. Come, embrace your creator.”
Py-tr stared at him in disbelief. His…creator? That meant the oracle had to be over…two hundred winters. And certainly not human. Yet, the old man lived among these humans without a trace of discomfort. Clearly, the oracle was not a predator like Py-tr.
The next time the oracle spoke, it was in the language of the village, “He will stay with us and abide by our laws. Call him brother and give him a spear. He will hunt with you men in the spring.” The oracle spat on the snowy ground and the deal was made. Py-tr was dumbfounded, unable to speak. The oracle was halfway back to his tent before he could sit back down. With the women again, of course.
***
Kah-yah took a deep breath. Py-tr would be staying with her, and maybe she could even convince him to stay in her tent. That would be a start; and, then she could slowly prove to him that she would be a good mate! It was an absolutely wonderful plan, in her mind.
A wide smile flashed across her face, and she squirmed on the log. Just then she wanted nothing more than to run over to the predator and lick him. But then the woman with mud-colored eyes, Shay-rah, moved from where she had been sitting. Slyly, she moved over to sit by Py-tr and leaned over to whisper in his ear. Kah-yah’s eyes became narrow. Py-tr was hers, and if Shay-rah thought she was going to steal her Py-tr there would be a good deal of pain in store for the woman. If only she knew what the woman was saying to him, then she could at least be certain of what she was killing her for.
And then Kah-yah went still. Py-tr had taken Shay-rah’s hand and was following the woman towards her tent. The girl’s teeth creaked as she clenched them together, and her fingernails cut deeply into her palms as her hands fisted. For a brief instant she considered simply following after them and dealing with the situation then and there; but, that would not do. Taking a deep, steadying breath, the girl turned her focus to the coat she was making. Vengefully, she stabbed her needle into the thick leather, and ripped the sinew through. Cursing softly, she attempted to keep from thinking about Shay-rah alone with her Py-tr.
She is his dinner, Kah-yah told herself. If only she believed that was all that was going on, she would feel so much better about things.
By the time the mid-day meal came Kah-yah’s fingers were stiff, but the coat was done. He-gel took the coat from her, and turned it over in her fingers. Finally she nodded, a pleased little smile on her face. “Good,” the older woman finally said. Kah-yah relaxed a little, and smiled. The approval of someone like He-gel could do wonders for her position in the village, and it might mean some improvement when it came to her quality of life. For a brief moment, somehow, she forgot about Py-tr and basked in the feeling of accomplishment. As her payment, of sorts, He-gel gave Kah-yah a few furs and some meat, things Kah-yah appreciated more than their stuttered language could manage to express.
She glanced down at the fine black fur in her hands, and she smiled a little. Py-tr would look nice in a coat made from it…Speaking of Py-tr. Standing carefully, so as to let the blood flow through her limbs, the girl glanced about for the hunter. And frowned. There was still no sign of him.
When Py-tr finally emerged from one of the many tents in the village the sun was already well on its way to setting, and the entire land was bathed in a red wash. Several of the elders exited behind him with satisfied smiles turning their lips: Py-tr officially belonged to them. Some of the men spoke to him now…now that he didn’t look so scraggly. He was dressed in clothes meant for someone a little bigger than him, but they suited him just fine. He was considered “warm” and he was accepted a little more.
Walking back to the fire for the meal, Py-tr finally sat with the men. He had a spear now, a little unnecessary for the skilled hunter, but it was needed to seem normal. He was handed food and told tales of hunting and fishing and all the things the tribesmen should have already known. He listened attentively, but his eyes always drifted towards Shay-rah. She would be delicious.
Noticing the way Py-tr stared, the men sitting around him laughed. They teased and did a good deal of nudging each other with elbows, as if they knew what was coming. One of the men finally slung his arm around Py-tr’s shoulders and gave a particularly wide grin. “Make her a necklace of teeth from your kills,” he suggested. “She would make a fine mate.”
Py-tr blinked. “A necklace of teeth?”
The man laughed. “Where did you come from? A necklace is the way of showing a woman you want her as a mate, the best such stupid creatures can expect from life.”
Py-tr smiled and nodded as if he would do it. The advent of the night saved him from feigning further interest in matehood–the men became more and more nervous as the shadows stole more and more of the light away.
Rising to his feet, Py-tr stretched his arms out in front of his body and tried to give Kah-yah a smile as she stormed past him. The vampyre blinked and watched her until she had disappeared into her tent. He did not think she would ever make sense.
When night had taken its full hold on the land, Py-tr did not go to the little shamble of a tent they had given him until he could craft his own. It was easy for the vampyre to claim that he wanted to go to the hills to pray, but he could tell by the way the men watched him that his intentions were not believed. He rolled his eyes–the fools probably thought he was going secretly hunt an animal for Shay-rah. Py-tr did not waste the energy to correct them.
No, he had something more important to deal with. Instead of going to the hills, he slipped into Kah-yah’s tent and moved to sit near her in the darkness. Blood. Somewhat unnerved by the smell of it, Py-tr peered through the gloom at the girl as she pointedly ignored him. He shifted a little and reached out his fingers to brush along her arm. His fingers brushed lightly over her hand and came back wet–she had cut her hand on a rock on the floor of her tent. “Are you all right?”
Silence.
Infinitely patient, Py-tr waited until the girl finally cursed and fell still. “You are upset,” he commented, tilting his head to one side. “Why?”
Emotions were so fascinating. They made no sense, and yet they drove humans to do the strangest things. Like at that moment, for instance. He had never seen her act like this, but he could tell that she was upset about something. So, logically, being upset made her act like this. “Are you unhappy with me and the girl?” he guessed. He didn’t know why she would be, but there were a lot of things that he didn’t understand about her. Not only was she human, but she was a human female.
He moved a little closer to her.
“Yes,” she snapped. Since she could not throw a rock at him Kah-yah had decided that throwing her tone at him would simply have to do.
Py-tr frowned. What was it that always made Kah-yah not angry? Oh. Yes. He remembered now. Moving slowly he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her slim shoulders. Physical contact seemed to make her happy; and, Py-tr hated to admit it, but he enjoyed it too. He was so predatorial more often than not that it felt good to hold her in his arms and at least pretend to protect her.
“You know what will happen,” he whispered. “I am not making her my mate. I am making her my meal, Kah-yah.”
The girl looked at him over her shoulder, even if she could not make out his features. “But she does not know that! At meal she talked as if she owns you.” Suddenly frustrated, Kah-yah tried to pull from his arms.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, dropping his arms from around her. “Or do you want me to make you a necklace instead?” Tipping his head back, Py-tr tried to sort through the strange thoughts that were tangling his mind. “We cannot be happy together, Kah-yah. I am a wolf and you are a human. What if… what if I hurt you?” His arms crept back around her. Py-tr did not like to admit these sort of things–even at his “age” he was still capable of pride.
His words had caused Kah-yah to become confused. His talk of possibilities and of how they were different creatures was beyond the girl’s ability to comprehend. In her mind they were the same, even if he ate blood instead of meat. “Then do not hurt me,” she said finally. “You have not done so in the past.”
Py-tr shook his head and smiled at her. He did want to be with her–she made him feel better–but did not know how to make her understand. “Do you want me to stay here and be your mate?” he asked even as he began to gently rock the girl in his arms.
Kah-yah gave a frustrated sigh. “You know what I want. What do you want?”
Py-tr chuckled deep in his throat. He knew what he wanted, but he couldn’t tell her just yet. “I must eat. Dawn I will tell you.” He ran his fingers through his long, golden hair and held her close once. Moving away from her, he stood up. He had a decision to make tonight. He would either be there in the morning…or he would leave and he would never come back to her.
For now, though, he didn’t want to tempt himself anymore with her.
***
The air was rank with the musk of thick smoke, anise, and rotting animal flesh, which created a stew of scents that made Py-tr’s nose itch and his eyes burn. Across the fire he could see the shadowed form of the oracle as the old man stewed some strange compound together in a roughly made stone bowl. The silence, which normally did not bother the vampyre, had begun to crawl beneath his skin and made him hungry for something, anything, to happen.
A dry husk of a cough finally broke the silence, and Py-tr sat up just a little straighter. “Do you know who you are?” the oracle asked, keeping to the old tongue so they would not be overheard.
“I am a predator,” Py-tr said. “Like a wolf.”
The oracle gave a withered shiver of a laugh. “No, you are so much more than that.” He threw something into the fire. “I created you. The language we are speaking is the language of the Old Ones, a people who come from a civilization older than any on this pathetic planet. Their glorious civilization was destroyed by a space event that not even their finest astronomers could predict, and the survivors limped their way here. The elements took their toll, though, and soon the numbers of this civilization had dwindled down to two: myself and my brother.
“We continued to exist, but we were alone. My brother decided to use the abilities we had to create servants, beings who could be strong when we were weak and to help us take over this world.” The oracle smiled to himself, though the move was mostly obscured by his thick black hair. “We will live forever, as will our servants. Do you understand?”
Py-tr gave a slight nod. “I think so. There were beings before humans. You are one of those beings, and you made me to be a servant just as you made the others.”
The oracle laughed and shook his head at the vampyre’s naivety. “You are correct in assuming that you are a servant, but I did not make the others. They were made by my brother. We realized after we had made all six of you that we could not control you as well as we had thought. You, Py-tr, roamed off, and we could not find you. But you are back now, are you not?” Py-tr could hear the strange scraping of stone on bone–who knew what the oracle was doing. “You were a mere child when I transformed you, not even three winters old. I have made you what you are: beautiful.”
Rising to his feet, the vampyre growled at his creator, “You did not make me beautiful. You have made me a creature, a wild beast.”
“No! You are not a predator. You are a beautiful Night One, and I will teach you how to make more like you. That was my brother’s plan. We made the six of you with what remained of the technology… I am sorry; you do not know that word… We used the magic that remained from our civilization to make you, and in return you, our beautiful children, would change the entire world to bring the humans to heel. My brother and I will work out a plan, and then you will not be a predator anymore. You will be a prince while my brother and I will be your kings.”
For no voiceable reason Py-tr felt like his stomach was going to roil its way from his body. He had not yet learned deception, though, and his disgust registered on his face. The oracle just continued to smile. “Go, Py-tr. Go and live among the humans. I will teach you how to change them soon enough.” Py-tr managed a slight nod before stumbling out of the tent and into the newly crafted morning.
Gasping the cold air into his unfeeling body, Py-tr stared about like a wolf that had been surrounded by hunters. Live amongst them? How could he? …No. He had to; and, he could not tell the villagers of the true danger within the circle of their tents. The poor creatures would not believe him and would chase him from the village; then, Kah-yah would be alone with the oracle. Py-tr felt his body go cold.
His eyes latched onto Shay-rah as she walked past, and his mouth watered as the smell of her thick, lovely blood filled the air around him. Py-tr took a step towards the woman.
***
Yawning, Kah-yah stretched until her body started to creak to life. As she sat up a silly little smile played across her lips, and she pushed the furs aside. She had dreamed beautifully that night: her head had been filled with her handsome vampyre and all of the ways the morning could go. Sitting on her knees, the girl leaned over and grabbed a fine bone comb from a nearby basket. Turning it over in her hands, Kah-yah smiled to herself. Her father had made it for her mother when they had become a mated pair, and Kah-yah liked to think that she could feel their love when she held it.
Pulling her dark hair over one shoulder, the girl took the time to untangle it and continued combing it until it ran like water between her rough fingers. Flicking her hair back over her shoulder, Kah-yah then pulled out her best tunic (the one she wore only for ceremonies and festivals) before going out to face the day. She had taken longer than usual to get ready, but Kah-yah certainly felt better about herself. She almost felt pretty.
Carrying her day’s work over to her typical log near the fire, Kah-yah settled down and pulled her first project into her lap. After a moment of threading her bone needle, the girl glanced around in hopes of spotting Py-tr. There was no sign of the pale vampyre. Sighing, she leaned over her work. Time slipped away as she sewed two furs togethers, and Kah-yah noticed that someone was standing in front of her only when she ran out of sinew. Startled, her gaze shot up to rest on a beautifully familiar face.
“Py-tr.”
Even as a smile started to blossom on her face Kah-yah happened to catch sight of Shay-rah standing a little ways behind Py-tr, her muddy eyes narrowed in disgust. Kah-yah blinked. She was about to ask Py-tr why the other woman was still alive when she noticed what Py-tr was holding out to her. The skin along her forearms and neck immediately turned a dusky shade of red as the blood began to charge through her veins. “A necklace?” she whispered. Letting her needle fall into her lap, Kah-yah stretched her fingers out and brushed them lightly against one of the teeth that made up the piece of jewelry. In her society a man only gave a woman a necklace when he wanted her for his mate. “For me?”
Giving a sharp sort of nod, Py-tr shifted his weight from foot to foot. “If you want it,” he mumbled. “And me.”
Kah-yah grinned and took the necklace from him. “Thank you, Py-tr.” The vampyre gave a grunt and settled beside her on the log. Without a word he offered her his bowl of broth: he did not need it and she was as fragile as an icicle in the sunlight.
The rest of the tribe stood on the other side of the fire, but they did not make Py-tr nervous. No, that particular honor went to the oracle, who was glaring at them with his stony gray eyes. He was watching them too carefully, as if there was something deep and dark being born within the confines of his mind.
“We should leave this village, Kah-yah. Tonight.,” Py-tr whispered. He did not need to know what the oracle was thinking: whatever it was did not bode well for the vampyre’s new mate.
A faint wrinkle forming between her eyebrows, Kah-yah managed to tug her attention away from the necklace in her hands and looked up at him. “Leave?” She leaned away from him by the slightest measure, as if she were examining him for some sign of madness. “Why?”
“Please?”
Kah-yah sighed. “Tonight,” she agreed.
Py-tr released a breath that somehow gotten caught in his lungs. For a brief, painful instant his mind had conjured a world in which his Kah-yah had been destroyed, and in that moment the heart he might once have had shivered with fear. He knew what it was to be prey, then.
“Kah-yah,” the oracle said, shattering the silence of the vampyre’s mind. Py-tr took Kah-yah’s hand and gripped it tightly; this was who he had to protect her from. “Do you truly accept this stranger as your mate?”
Tilting her head, the girl narrowed her eyes at the oracle even as a slight frown tugged at her lips. “Shay-rah would have accepted him as her mate,” she said after a moment in which she had gathered the shards of her courage; the oracle would not stop her from having her Py-tr at last. “Why not me? He is a man who wants me. You should be glad that he has taken someone as undesirable as I am, and left women like Shay-rah for the others.” She slid closer to her beloved vampyre and let her chin jut into the air–Kah-yah dared the oracle to tell her she could not have Py-tr.
The oracle just shook his head and gave his hand a wave. “Then go on. Be mates.” He turned his back on them, and Kah-yah relaxed. With a smile, she let her head rest on Py-tr’s shoulder.
“I love you, Py-tr.”
Glancing down at her, Py-tr brushed his thumb over her bony knuckles. “Teach me that?” he whispered. “Teach me love?” The vampyre knew Kah-yah was different–like she was the ocean pulling the tides of his soul to her–but he did not know emotions. Love, hate, jealousy–they were simply words the girl had taught him.
“How?” Kah-yah pulled her head from his shoulder in order to look at him.
“Walk with me by the river,” Py-tr murmured even as he took the necklace from her hands and slipped it over her head. “Tell me what it means to love, and show me.”
The girl’s confused expression melted into a warm smile. “Nothing would make me happier.” Keeping his hand in hers, Kah-yah got to her feet. She playfully tugged him to his feet and started off towards the river with an evident bounce in her step. The snow crunched beneath her leather shoes, and she laughed. Her young life had a purpose.
Stopping, Kah-yah glanced out at the frozen river with something of a thoughtful look. It was beautiful, the snow hiding the blemishes of its surface like a fur, and Kah-yah somehow felt special seeing it in so perfect a state. The river’s deadly nature did not matter in the bright sunlight, and even her fear of it could not erode her good mood. “Py-tr,” she turned towards him, “how do I make you feel?”
He frowned, not certain what it was she was asking of him. “Feel?” The vampyre fumbled for a moment and lifted a finger to brush an eyelash from her cheek. “Warm,” he decided at last. “Is that how I am supposed to feel?” In truth, he was very much like an infant. Feelings such as hunger and happiness and anger were easy to grasp–they were breathing for his soul –but the deeper emotions were beyond his understanding. It was as if someone had neglected to teach him how to walk–that was how his heart felt when she spoke of love. Kah-yah could run and jump; Py-tr was left behind, condemned to watch the beauty of her soul without comprehension.
Starting to walk again, Py-tr looked down at their joined hands. “How do I make you feel, Kah-yah?”
Her steps slowed as she thought of words that would catch her feelings in even the smallest way. “Alive.”
Py-tr smiled at her and actually laughed gently. “Good. That is what you are meant to be.” He did not fully understand it, but he did not need to. The ocean did not ask the moon how it hung in the sky–it just did.
When they came to the river, Py-tr hesitated. He gave the frozen water a wary look; he was not quite brave enough to actually try walking across its surface. Instinctively the vampyre knew the deep waters were dangerous to him–he might not be able to die on land but water was another thing entirely.
Behind them, the snow gave a faint crunch; Py-tr dismissed it as an icicle falling from a branch to crash into the ground. And that was when the push came.
Kah-yah’s eyes went wide as her body was thrown forward, and the snow beneath her feet caused her to slip into a state of unbalance. For a shuddering moment she dangled between falling and standing, Py-tr’s hand the only thing keeping her from sliding out onto the frozen river. And then his grip slipped. With a yelp, the girl tumbled down onto the ice and skidded across the lightly powdered surface. Shaking, she slowly rose to a kneeling position and gave Py-tr a sort of silly grin. “I must have slipped.”
Rising to her feet, the girl began to brush the powdered snow off of her tunic, and beneath her the ice began to crack with barely a murmured groan. “Silly me,” she muttered as she took a step towards Py-tr, and then the ice gave way beneath her. With a scream, the girl went under.
Py-tr threw himself forward only to be snapped back by the firm presence of hands on his arms. “Do not do that, my child,” the oracle whispered into the vampyre’s ear, his tone a gentle counterpoint to Kah-yah’s frantic screams. Trying to break free, Py-tr became frantic as Kah-yah fought to gain a grip on the ice. The oracle, far too strong for his seeming age, wrestled the Night One to the ground and held him there. The crack in the ice came all the way to the shore, and the cold water splashed onto the snow scant inches from Py-tr’s face. He stilled in terror.
“Watch her die.”
Frustrated tears running down his face, Py-tr looked up even as the oracle started to chuckle. “Kah-yah! No!”
For only a brief moment, she managed to get something of a grip on the ice, but as the furs she wore took on more water the task became harder and harder. Turning her head, she caught sight of Py-tr and her wide eyes were rimmed in a fearful ring of white. She did not want to die, not yet. “Py-tr!” Her fingers began to slip. “I don’t want to die,” she sobbed.
Wiggling a hand free, Py-tr stretched his hand out towards her. “Kah-yah,” he choked. “Kah-yah.”
Her fingers began to lose their strength, and her grip started to slip. “I love you, Py-tr. I love you.” And then she disappeared under the surface of the water.
Py-tr was finally released, and screamed her name until his throat became raw. The oracle had left him there, and would return when the vampyre was done acting like a child.
The man knelt by the river when his voice gave out, too afraid to go near it but too stubborn to leave. He didn’t want to leave her alone. She was…part of him. He looked down beside him after a while and noticed the necklace there. He didn’t remember grabbing it from her, but…he must have. It was there, like magic. Py-tr gripped it tightly in his hand and held it close. He felt so close to her then and he didn’t know what to do without her. She gave him purpose. His life had been denying her, telling her that he did not want to be her mate. And then, when she finally was his mate…it didn’t matter.
The oracle finally came by his side. “It would have happened eventually. Think about it. Come now, my child. You have much training to do.”
Somehow Py-tr found the strength to move. First one step, and then another followed as he trailed after the oracle. But still the necklace dangled between his cold, stiff fingers.
Millennia passed without Py-tr’s notice. Civilizations rose and evolved into pillars of culture, but Py-tr remained unchanged. Oh, his name changed with each new place the oracle took him, but his soul had stagnated without Kah-yah.
Pulling his gaze from the latest pyramid as it rose above the sands, Ptah–or so the oracle had renamed him this time–turned his attention back to the gardens. Lifting a hand, he scratched idly at the wig that was perched rather precariously on top of his head–even vampyres were inclined to sweating in the Egyptian heat–as he started towards the great Temple of Bast. And then he noticed something strange.
Turning his head just a little, he watched a noblewoman as she examined her reflection in one of the many fountains. Undesirably curious, his path altered, bringing him closer to her. His gaze dropped to the cobblestones, and he almost missed the chance to see the woman’s face. Hearing her laughter reminded him of her presence, and Ptah glanced up.
He tripped over his own feet at the sight of her face. The man took a step back as his trembling hands fell to his sides.
Kah-yah. His heart twisted in his chest. She is alive. How?
