Bitten to Death

We two,

We ultimate duet.

In the end, we sing alone,

Our voices rent by fate.”

The door began to weep. At least it seemed that way. Black flecks fell from the bars like tears for the next several seconds. And then we heard a click.

“I think the sucky poem worked,” I whispered.

“You did not like it?”

“Hell no!”

“Which part?”

I looked over my shoulder and rolled my eyes, though Vayl’s were hard to see, hidden behind the specs like they were. “You know. That bullshit about being alone in the end. Once you’ve loved for real, you’re never alone. Lonely, maybe.” I stuck my hand in my left pocket. Gave my old engagement ring an affectionate squeeze. “But never truly alone.”

Vayl cocked his head to one side. “I like that.” He motioned to the door. “Shall we?”

I pulled on the bars and they moved easily. Behind them stood your standard Deyrar-style door. Ceiling-high oak engraved with the image of a Hydra. A simple twist of the knob revealed a sumptuous bedroom that had not, like the rest of the house, fallen prey to any sort of rot, mold, or mildew. Hamon had hung wallpaper in thick blue and white stripes that made me feel like I was standing inside a circus tent. Ornate white woodwork lined the paper top and bottom. A plump-mattressed bed framed by black iron scrollwork took up one wall. Another held a bachelor chest and a brown leather wing chair. A full-length mirror flanked by wall shelves that supported busts of Einstein and Newton filled a third.

“Just one room?” I said. “That doesn’t seem right for the head of a high-falutin Trust like this one. Or at least, like it used to be.”

“No, not at all,” Vayl agreed. “Nearly everyone had a secret place where they kept their crypt. So if we search along the walls, perhaps we will find the entrance to another room.”

“Like the one Blas had?”

“Precisely. Or, perhaps, the one referred to as the Preserve.”

As we searched on opposite walls I spent some time trying to convince myself Vayl’s former sleeping arrangements were none of my business. Then I decided this was exactly the kind of thing a friend would ask. “Um, Vayl?”

“Yes.”

“Did you, ah, have a stone, that is, a coffin-type thingy when you lived here?”

Long pause. I counted to ten. Gave up. Then he answered. “No. I could never bear the feeling, the thought —”

“I so get that,” I said. “When I was a little kid one of my greatest fears was of being buried alive. I don’t even know where I got the idea it could happen. Some show, probably, about scratch marks on the inside of coffin lids and people who could fall into comas so deep that doctors thought they were truly dead.”

Sigh. “Yes,” he said. “You understand. Also there was the real possibility that an enemy would discover the crypt and seal me inside.”

“Did you have many enemies?”

“Several.” Another pause. “Did I ever tell you why I am so bothered by snakes?”

“No.” Although he had let me know he didn’t appreciate them. To the point where I’d had to dispose of one for him during a previous mission.

“When I was a child we were traveling from one camp to another and we had to cross a river. My dog had been traveling on the wagon, but he loved water, so as soon as he could, he jumped in. About halfway across he squealed and began to struggle, as if he had been caught by a fast-moving limb. I cried for my father to come to his aid, but when he pulled him out by the scruff of his neck, his entire underbelly was covered, crawling with water snakes.”

“Oh my God.”

“My father threw him back in. It was a miracle neither he nor the horse was bitten as well. But still, the vision haunts me.”

“Stuff that happens to you when you’re little, it just sticks, doesn’t it?”

“Some of it, yes. And some memories I cannot grasp though I experienced them fully at the time.” I moved to the next wall, looked over to see him shaking his head. “Ah, but it has been a while, as you say.”

“Hey, I think I found it!” I’d made my way to the mirror. Framed in pewter, it had lots of scrollwork, but at the top and bottom were smooth, round expanses of metal inscribed with Vampere phrases.

“What’s it say?” I asked as Vayl joined me.

“It is a famous quote from one of our first Council members, Sereth, who passed perhaps a century ago. Reality is but a reflection of humanity’s manipulation of itself.”

We began pressing and prodding the mirror, pushing the round sections, trying to shove it in different directions. Vayl looked around the room. “This has to be it,” he said, resting his hands on his hips in frustration.

“Wait a second. That word, ‘manipulation.’ See how it’s in a different font?” I said.