Chapter 6: Meeting The Inmates - Yildiz

I take off, continuing to follow the trail and it’s not long before the scents begin to get stronger. As the scents get stronger I begin to pick up the sound of people conversing. I slow down my approach as their words become clearer, and it becomes obvious I’ve found the people I’m looking for. I sniff around, assessing my surroundings; smelling the trees around me. I click my tongue to discern how far away they are and walk over to what sounds like the nearest tree. It feels large and sturdy. I make quick work climbing up high into the tree top calculating how high I am as I climb so I can calculate how far the drop will be, then perch myself on a branch. From here I can easily spot the group of sanguidae I’m after. They’re a short distance away, all six of them. Each one illuminated by their different coloured auras, but each aura is outlined by a hue of blood red – common in the auras of sanguidaes. They’re laughing and enjoying themselves despite the fact they just murdered innocent people.

“That was amazing!” One cries, “I just want to go and do it again. I’ve never felt a rush like it in my life!”

“It’ll only get better from here. Don’t worry, we’ll find more people to feed on,” says another arrogantly with a thick Italian accent. No doubt their self-proclaimed leader. Interesting how the others have strong Kiwi accents but his is Italian. It’s possible he’s responsible for turning the others. He may have discovered how to do so by accident and then decided to do it purposefully, but I can only confirm that upon questioning them.

“Even after all that blood, I’m still hungry,” groans a woman’s voice in agitation. I can’t help but feel a little sorry for her. The blood lust for a sanguidae is incurable. That hunger will never go away ever, no matter how much they feed, but they can learn to control it and live with it, though I’m not sure I’d call it living.

“Me too, and why did she get to eat the hearts? It’s not fair!” protests another, her finger pointed directly at a figure who is sitting a little ostracised from the rest of the group. She’s keeping to herself and is the only one not speaking.

I internally cringe as I witness their leader backhand the girl who spoke up and wrap his hand around her throat. Though I’m sure that barely hurt, it was degrading, to say the least. There are many septs in existence around the world, each one registered with the Delegation. We tend to let them be, provided they don’t draw attention to themselves, don’t kill humans and the people in the sept are cared for. This is obviously an unregistered sept and to make it worse, their leader is abusing those under his care, which we do not abide by.

“You have no right to fucking question me. I don’t want you speaking or even looking in her direction. Do it again and I’ll fucking kill you,” he spits, tossing her to the ground. Hmm, he seems protective of the silent one.

I don’t care to witness more of this, so I decide it’s time to make my presence known. I leap down from the tree and make a quick dash over to their little gathering spot.

“I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t manhandle her again,” I announce, causing each of them to turn in my direction.

“Who the fuck are you?” the leader spits.

“My name is Yildiz, an irshiust and member of the Delegation, though I’m sure all of that means nothing to you,” I say casually.

“I don’t know what you just said, but you just made a big mistake coming here,” he says smugly, a smirk in his voice as he walks towards me, “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.” He now stands in front of me, his frame towering over me in a predatory manner.

“Oh?” I ask in amusement.

“I’m a vampire and you just happened upon my coven. So it looks like you’re going to be our next meal,” he whispers against my ear. I detect not a single lie in his words. Though he is wrong, he believes the words he speaks to be truth and for that reason, I only detect truth. An annoying little loophole in our abilities.

“Oh good. The inmates are running the asylum,” I deadpan. The man pulls back, no doubt a confused look on his face. “First of all, vampires are not real nor are groups of your kind called covens, and it may have skipped your notice but I’m not human, in fact, I’m far less human than you,” I point out. My skin and eyes should have made that clear, and they are closer to human than I will ever be. They were born human. I wasn’t.

“What are you talking about?” one of them asks.

“You do realise you’re walking around in the sun, do you not?” I point out.

“So?” says another.

“So, you’re not a vampire. Vampires are not real; they are simply the invention of humans. What you are, are sanguidaes, and what you seem to have formed is a little sept of your own, though it’s not recognised by the Delegation. Not yet at least.”

“Was any of that English?” jokes one of the males, causing the others to snigger.

“Consider me supernatural law enforcement, and you have all broken many of our laws. Now I’m prepared to show leniency given you haven’t a clue what you are, let alone the laws you are expected to abide by. So, you can choose to come with me willingly and my sisters and I will teach you more about what you are and how to control your hunger. You’ll be given shelter and blood when needed and we will care for you until you can prove you’re not a danger to others,” I warmly offer.

They look at each other, their heartbeats calm and steady. Irshiusts have a calming energy to us. We can’t control it, it just naturally rolls off us, like pheromones. It helps keep those we encounter calm and civil to a small extent. But the higher the emotions the less of an impact it has, and I can tell it’s having no impact on their leader whatsoever as he continues to look in my direction. I can hear the anger in his breathing. He’s not going to make this easy, and I worry he’ll bring the others down with him. The more of an effect our presence has on someone is usually a good sign that they’re open-minded and will be more open for us to negotiate with, the less of an effect it has the more trouble we know the person will be.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but we’re happy as we are. You see, we like killing,” he says with sadistic glee, “And if you want to try and stop us, I promise it won’t end well for you.” The young girl who has remained silent is pulling on his arm trying to get his attention. Still, she says nothing, but her actions indicate she’s pleading for him to stop, though he doesn’t seem to have an interest in listening.

“I do not wish to hurt you, but I will if you force my hand,” I warn.

“You really shouldn’t have come here alone,” he gloats, throwing a nod towards one of his followers.

In a split second, the follower he has signalled is launching himself at me. But quicker than he can react, I pull a cadmium blade from my belt and slice under his armpit as I duck out of his reach. Everyone takes a fearful step back as their comrade now writhes on the ground screaming in agony. He’ll live, but the burning pain he’s enduring will definitely keep him down.

“I’ll say this again. Come with me peacefully. This doesn’t have to turn into a fight. No one has to get hurt, and your friend here can even get treatment for his wound,” I promise. But my words seem to be falling on deaf ears.

“Kill her,” the leader spits, his voice dripping with the venom that runs through his veins.

His followers hesitate briefly but are then quick to launch themselves at me. With a sigh, I pull the second dagger from my belt, and with one swift action, I swipe past them, landing a single thin slice through each of their flesh. I stand calmly, and solemnly as I listen to them drop to the ground behind me, screaming in pain. I can hear as their collective blood drips from my daggers onto the ground, each drop filling me with regret. However, I notice the silent woman hasn’t moved, but I can hear the frantic beating of her heart. The poor thing is terrified.

“Your friends won’t die from their injuries, and this doesn’t need to escalate further. Do the right thing, for them and for you,” I beseech.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he snarls, “But I will take great pleasure in killing you,” he says in a low, maniacal voice. I don’t feel a single lie in what he’s saying, which tells me even if we did manage to teach him to control his hunger, he’d still go around killing people. He doesn’t kill out of instinct, he kills out of choice, and there’s no cure for that.

“Then you leave me no choice,” I say mournfully as I place the daggers back in my belt and draw the katana from its scabbard.

With a loud snarl, their fearless and sadistic leader launches himself at me, and the moment he does I swing my blade aiming for his throat. Three things happen in the second it takes for my katana to reach its target.

First, the silent woman speeds in front of her leader in an attempt to both stop him and use herself as a shield to protect him. Second, a large figure appears out of nowhere right in front of me, their frame silhouetted by the most vibrant blood-red aura with flecks of silver buried in the hue. So much happens at once that I have no time to react as my blade comes in contact with the new arrival’s back; the blade shattering on impact. Each of these things is significant in their own right, and yet each pales in comparison to that scent. That overpowering scent that tastes like the galaxy exploding on my tongue while frying all my other senses, and it’s coming from the person now standing before me.

My animai is here.