The security guard pretended not to recognize me as she scoured her little list for my name. The contempt in her voice belied the act. It spoke of a familiar distaste. As much as people disliked me at first sight, it only got worse with time. I’m the back of a shoe that keeps ripping the scab off the blister, just before it has a chance to heal.
The smiling faces painted on the wall were waiting just where I’d left them. I passed through the big red doors, crossed through the auditorium and entered a long hallway. There were two classrooms on either side of the corridor, each rumbling with the muffled calamity of unruly kids. Something about the place reminded me of jail, except the laughter was innocent and pleasant. In prison, laughter was the last thing you wanted to hear.
I peered into a classroom through a tiny round window. A group of twenty children sat in a circle on the floor, cheering as a strawberry-blonde, green-skinned-girl pulled faces in the center.
It was strange to see children from so many races playing together. Most bars and businesses were open to everyone but schools had always been species-exclusive.
Children from different bloodlines had never played and learned together like they did at Ridgerock. There was something sweet and sad about the little classroom bursting with kids who would never understand that once upon a time they would all have been so different.
I was ten minutes early for the meeting but from the nervous look on the receptionist’s face you would have thought I’d arrived the night before and asked for room and board.
“He’s still teaching.”
“That’s fine. I’ll wait.”
“You’re early.”
“I know. My apologies. As I said, I’ll happily wait.”
“He’s a very busy man.”
“I can imagine.”
She looked me over like I was a mysterious brown smear on her new carpet.
“Is that a black eye?”
“Probably.”
“I recommend that you come back closer to your appointment.”
She sure didn’t like me being there. Maybe she just didn’t approve of people with a poor sense of timing. I sat myself down like a good little boy and tried not to disturb her again.
She puffed and sighed so frequently that by the time Burbage arrived I thought she was going to hyperventilate.
“Come in, Mr Phillips. I’m glad to be seeing you so soon.”
As I passed the receptionist, I heard her sigh with relief. Glancing back, I finally saw the stumps where her wings had once been. Two awkward mounds pushed up her shirt. They’d either withered away from lack of use or perhaps been amputated (not uncommon, as wings without magic could be painfully heavy). She was some former creature of the skies. Perhaps a Harpy, I wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. We were both just glad I was out of there.
Burbage sat forward in his chair, rigid with anticipation. I wished I had more to tell him.
“I’ve come across the bodies of two Vampires. I should know their identities soon. With so few of them in town, there’s a high chance we’ve found our man.”
Burbage lost his smile and started searching for it on his desk. Instead, he found a long pipe. With his four strangely dexterous fingers, he struck a match, dipped it into the bowl and puffed away thoughtfully.
“What were the circumstances?”
I plucked a Clayfield out of my pocket and chewed away.
“A Vamp-friendly teahouse near the piazza. Two Blood Race bodies and one other victim, species unknown. Police think it could be a Nail Gang. A group of mortals who—”
“I know what a Nail Gang is, Mr Phillips. Is that all?”
His temper was showing for the first time. I probably could have been more delicate in delivering the news that his friend was being swept into a dustpan.
“That’s it. Now we wait. If Rye is one of the victims, then I can turn my investigation towards finding out who did it. That’s if you decide the information is worth your money. If it’s not him, then the hunt continues.”
His pipe went out and he didn’t bother to relight it.
“If it isn’t Edmund, what’s your next step?”
“I found his local drinking hole. I haven’t pressed too hard on the clientele, but I can go back and make myself a nuisance.”
“I imagine that comes quite naturally to you.”
“I keep in practice. I’d also like to talk to the students who were closest to him. See if they picked up anything in conversation before he left.”
“I would prefer that you didn’t.”
I shrugged. The twig in my mouth lost its flavor, so I dropped it into the old Wizard’s ashtray.
“It was just a thought. If he wasn’t at the teahouse, then the most likely reason for his disappearance is that his body merely gave out. Have you seen a Vamp corpse? Not much to it but brown dust. He’d be blown away by the wind leaving nothing but a pair of pointed teeth. Finding them on the streets of this city is a task even I’m not up for.”
Burbage looked distant. He reached forward, pinched my discarded painkiller between two fingers and held it up to the light.
“Recus Malgaria. I used to make potions with these. A very potent tranquilizer.”
“Not any more. The Coda dulled the effects. Now it’s just a mild painkiller.”
“You’re in pain?”
I tapped my chest.
“I took a nasty hit in the army. It plays up from time to time. These take the edge off.”
“Has this been diagnosed or is it self-medicated?”
“Got it from a nurse. I self-medicate with cocktails and kicks to the head.”
There were no smiles left in the old man. He nodded and placed the twig back in the ashtray.
“I just wanted to give you an update,” I said. “If they don’t ID him from the tooth then I’ll keep searching, but maybe it was just his time.”
Burbage huffed and gave me a solemn stare.
“Edmund Rye was first told that his time was up two hundred and fifty-six years ago. Some kind of disease infected his liver. Edmund’s response to this news was to leave his home and his family, venture across the continent to Norgari, find a Vampire and ask to be turned.
“He was granted his wish, but his immortality came with a price. Vampires at that time were the most despised species in all Archetellos. There were only two ways for Rye to exist in this world: either live with the rest of the Blood Race in The Chamber – confined to darkness and loneliness, only venturing out to hunt – or head off on his own, a nightmare among men, hiding from sunlight and vengeful Humans who would mount his head on a spike as soon as look at him. For Rye, neither of those options would suffice. So, he set about creating a new world.
“Reform started in The Chamber itself, with new laws and codes of conduct. Once things were running smoothly, a group of Vampire ambassadors made their first journey to the Opus to plead their case. Soon, The League of Vampires were allies of every other species, and the Blood Race were free to walk the night.”
There wasn’t any façade any more. The nice old man was letting his emotions rise up without hiding them under his mask of geniality. One thing was finally clear: he hated me.
“Edmund Rye is an immortal, Mr Phillips. He will decide when it is his time.”