---------------------------------((Part Three))---------------------------------
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
"Alone" - Edgar Allen Poe
-----
The inside of the room was heavily scented with layer upon layer of different types of incense. Lavender was overlaid with jasmine, and those with wild roses, and those with the heady scent of natural musk. Candles were stuck willy-nilly around the room, some in holders, some attached to various surfaces by their own melted wax. The warm light they cast off illuminated a space filled in every corner with a bazaar of old and rare objects. Shelves carved right into the stone held row after row of fantastic trinkets-tiny figurines of every color and shape imaginable from knights in glittering silver armor and pastel gowned women frozen forever in a formal dance to blood red dragons and brightly plumed peacocks. Scattered all over the floor were stacks of books, magazines, paintings, papers - anything that would not fit above.
Lupercus stepped around her, making his way through the piles, picking his way through them somehow without disturbing anything. Teresa followed, passing an enormous pewter candelabrum, an old carousel horse that, on second inspection, proved to have the bottom half of a fish, a carefully laid out collection of preserved butterflies pinned under glass. The walls rose high on either side, but the space between them was narrow.
They passed by a stained, cracked mirror hanging upside-down from a peg bored into the wall. There was no reflection as Lupercus went by, but Teresa could see herself in it-half a hundred tiny images slowly walking by and distorting with perspective. Up ahead, she could see where the room widened out, but kept gazing up at the collection of wonders she was given this opportunity to enjoy. Two-dozen dusty but otherwise untouched men's hats were stacked up on top of each other. Four delicate porcelain dolls of the sort that Drusilla had cherished rested together in a corner that had never seen light, mouth to ear as if whispering secrets. A long, spiraled narwhal tusk formed a barrier between them and the edge of the shelf. A little jar of black ink with its label yellowed and peeling was balanced precariously on top of a tiny orange satin pillow.
Everything smelled old. Even the odors of the few relatively modern objects that she could see-a plastic alarm clock with its face broken, an electric sewing machine with the cord half ripped off-were masked by the bits of lace and men's pipes. Teresa remembered what age had smelled like when she was still human, or mostly so. It had been the stink of stale air, and dust, and the sickening, sour taste flat water that had been left to sit too long. Now she could sense so much more to it-layer after layer after layer that she would never be able to describe to someone who hadn't already experienced it.
The two minutes that they had walked in silence through Lupercus' treasures awed her more than he ever would. Unspeaking, she took the seat that he gestured to when he came to a fortress of a desk and sat down behind it. In front of him was one of the largest books Teresa had ever seen. She could smell the age on the crackling paper and the grayish leather. She tried to shake off the wonder of the place, but found that she didn't want to. She had to begin, though, or risk simply surrendering to the pleasure of it. Perhaps awe was another way that Lupercus kept his position.
"I've been searching for a long time," she said quietly, and was glad to see that Lupercus merely nodded. "Maybe not so long in comparison to some." She took in a deep breath, inhaling the myriad scents. "I've found the Triami Library, and seen Azrael."
"And he sent you to me. That was wise of him. I'm surprised-the last time I saw him, he was quite mad." Teresa didn't respond, except to narrow her eyes a little. He leaned back in his chair. "Why don't you tell me the story of how you came to be here?"
She shook her head, and for a moment he thought she wasn't going to answer. Instead of sitting mutely, however, she leaned forward and tapped her fingers across the front of the desk. He gave her a questioning look.
"It's a short, sad little tale, really," Teresa said finally, folding her arms across her chest. "You know that I'm a mind reader- I've already told you that. I have always suffered from my gift, if you want to call it that." She appeared as if she'd call it anything but. "I spent my entire life up to a few years ago almost completely unable to control what was happening inside of my head. It's always worse when I sleep, but I don't have to do that so much now."
He gestured for her to go on when she trailed off, deep in thought.
"I moved to Sunnydale, a nice little town right on top of a Hellmouth, and within a week had met Angelus, gotten involved with the current Slayer, who is an Immortal, met three other Immortals, found out that I was one myself, except by that time I had manipulated Angelus into turning me, found out that I was more than your average vampire, formed an alliance with Spike and Drusilla, two of Angelus' children, prodded the Immortals into a hopeless fight between them and the four of us, after I had let them feed off of my Immortal blood, tried to bring forth Armageddon, got caught in the psychic backlash of Angel's soul being restored, and slipped into a coma where my existence quite easily could have been ended."
She paused to take a breath.
"When I woke up, I left Sunnydale. I wasn't exactly thinking clearly at the time. Months later, I returned. I guess I needed something to do- some sort of purpose to life, and I... I wanted a few things that I had left behind. I wasn't going to spend eternity miserable and aimless and suffering." She frowned a little. "Come to think of it, things have been a lot easier lately. I think I'm gaining a little control."
"But you still came here."
"There's more to what I am than that."
"How do you know?"
She cast an emotionless, level gaze directly at him, not about to allow anything. "I've already told you what you need to know. Now you tell me- what am I?"
Lupercus smiled, neither smug nor hesitant. Yes, he had gotten quite a deal. "You're a demon."
Teresa made a disgusted sound high in her throat, and rolled her eyes quickly heaven-wards. "The man's a genius. A demon! Really, that was something I would have never guessed in a hundred years. All vampires are demons."
"No, not all, I think you'll find, but that's not what we're here to talk about. Teresa, you are a demon." He waited until she was looking at him again. The glare she cast his way would have intimidated him at any other time, but now he expected no less. "Something entirely different from any of us, and anything you might have been before. The prophecies-"
"I've had more of prophecies than I need in ten lifetimes."
"If you would let me finish?" Teresa looked away, for all the world like one of the bratty little girls he provided shelter for. "To give your proper title, you are the Khimaira. You're the living fulfillment of a prophecy thousands of years older than I am. It was ancient legend when the one who turned me was young."
"Khimaira..." She rolled the word around on her tongue, tasting the sharp, foreign sounding work in her mouth. It felt like the East, like places she had yet to go, and lifetimes to discover. He grinned at her experimentation, childlike, but revealing sharpened canines and incisors.
"Yes, you might as well get used to it. You are the Khimaira, all in one, capable of wielding all the lost magicks, of dwelling in the forgotten places, the ghost roads, even the haunted pools and missions where even we," He gestured to himself. "The lowest and most demonic form of vampire fear to walk. Your blood is dead, yet warm, a mortal death you have suffered, yet you are as human as the six billion who now walk upon the face of the Earth. You are Immortal - one of a race that appeared from out of nowhere and live side by side with human beings, never aging, never falling victim to disease or injury unless your head is separated from your body. You are demon, dead, the blood-drinker and night-hunter. But fire will not destroy you. The sun cannot kill you. From your first moments of life, you suffered, unguided, with the 'gift' that you spoke of." He stopped the flow of words long enough to flip through the tome to his side - ancient, but no dust rose from its pages. He squinted, trying to identify faded writing in the flickering candlelight. "I believe they now call it telepathy, or a combination of telepathy and precognition, though those terms are sadly lacking."
Teresa snorted at the understatement, and relaxed her limbs in a most undignified and unladylike manner, slumping in the chair's worn padding.
Lupercus frowned at the girl's nonchalance. That she could do exactly as she was and fear no repercussions his was starting to raise hackles, and his eyes shown with a glaze of golden yellow. Even in one of his age, patience only stretched so far. Perhaps he had no hope of controlling her after all - he had had very little thought of doing so in the beginning - but he would have her cooperation, and her protection. She had already promised. None of his minions would lay a hand on her while he still lived - not that they would get very far. It simply wasn't fair that one as young as she had more power than he ever hoped to possess.
He looked up, and knew from the mischievous twinkle in her otherwise calm, midnight blue eyes that his carefully constructed mental shields were giving way under her steady, patient probing - and that she was doing simply for the pleasure of seeing him riled. Indeed, a ripple of annoyance crossed through his mind, and he did not know whether it was his own or a gift from the Khimaira. Forcing a smile, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
Instantly, a male figure, looking to be between six and seven years old, appeared from the inky darkness just beyond the door. Teresa blinked- she had not noticed he was there just a moment before. "Refreshments for Miss Knight and myself, if you would Gaius."
"Yes Regent," the boy, or, rather, no boy to judge by his name, bowed his head and was off with only a moment's glance at the legend.
"As I was saying," Lupercus continued. "A very long time ago, there were remedies given to those with the your first, inborn ability. Their power was harnessed and directed, put to use, since in their suffering they were of little use in either the fields or the brothels."
She glared, and he ignored her.
"They were the True Oracles."
Abruptly her face lost all expression, becoming unreadable as a silhouette. Something shifted within her thoughts, and he could almost swear that the air became thicker and charged with static. Apparently she, too, was finding it difficult to control herself.
"They told men of the future, and decided when the old gods felt their sacrifices lacking. It is in your power, as it was theirs, to communicate with souls long departed, and to see through time as most see through the air on a clear day."
A small clinking of glass against metal signaled Gaius's return, carrying a silver tray laden with a dark-tinted bottle, crimson-stemmed goblets, and a dish of soft white substance with an oddly citric smell to it and tendrils of steam rising from the center. He set the tray delicately between them on the desk, then bowed his head first to Teresa, and then to his lord and master.
"Will that be all, Regent?"
"Yes, thank you Gaius."
The boy-vampire muttered a hasty 'yes Regent', 'thank-you Regent', and started to back away, but Lupercus held up his hand, stopping him in his tracks. "On second thought, send for Tyrivnya. Tell her to bring the DeOrc Glass."
Gaius trembled, partly at the thought of asking anything of the nest's least sane resident, but mostly at the mention of the blackened mirror that was rumored to be in her possession. He licked his lips nervously, mustering the courage to speak. "Tyrivnya isn't accepting anyone, regent. She's refused the Hunt for the past three nights."
"Tell her, then, than a kindred spirit seeks her council," Teresa smiled, wolf-like with her unusually conformed and gleaming fangs. Gaius looked hesitant to obey, and he looked to Lupercus, who merely waved his hand.
"Do as the Khimaira says, and be quick about it."
Swallowing convulsively, the boy turned without even a small, respectful nod. Teresa imagined he would have been white as a sheet, if he wasn't already.
As soon as the heavy cave door was pulled shut, Lupercus sighed and shook his head. "It's so hard to find good help these days." At her unspoken but clearly thought question, he chuckled. "He fancied himself to be regent, a long while ago. He has no more such flights of fancy." A sneer appeared on his features, but since it was not directed at her, Teresa faced it without a thought. "I assume you'll not be too put off if I interrupt my explanations long enough for us to eat. You don't mind human blood?"
When she shook her head in a negative, to both queries, he smiled. *It's not exactly as if one out of the billions will matter now.* She had too much sense to think that. She couldn't help, though, but look up at the face before her. There was so much emotion, perhaps even a soul behind those eyes. A vampire doesn't have a soul. It's nothing but an animal. Worse than an animal - a demon. Was that just another myth?
"Luagás?"
As Teresa accepted one of the small, white cakes, her hand brushed against his. She caught a glimpse of how exactly Lupercus had handled the would-be usurper. Her wide-open eyes turned in the direction that Gaius had gone. No soul. "Thorough, aren't you?" she whispered, grimacing. But at the same time, she was sniffing in appreciatively as he uncorked the bottle and poured the smooth, crimson liquid into the goblets.
"He didn't need it anyway," he grinned, holding out one of the full goblets to her. She took it, holding it under her nose like a fine wine before sipping. She couldn't help it - she smiled. It had been warmed, and was fresh; an older man, she decided, past the prime of his life - it tasted of brandy and pine, not entirely unpleasant.
"Though, in all fairness..." Lupercus thought a moment, then chuckled. "No, he deserved it." Falling quiet, he picked up his own goblet and one of the luagás cakes. As his teeth bit into the thin white crust, the signature wrinkles and brow ridge appeared on his forehead. She watched, intrigued. It was the first time that she had seen him entirely vamped out.
He didn't swallow that, but instead raised the goblet to his lips, took some of the blood into his mouth, and held it there. Teresa frowned slightly, and sniffed at the hot, white cake in her hand. It just fit into her palm, and would have been a small meal for a mortal child the size of most of those here. She was more curious than concerned - any poison strong enough to do damage she probably could sense in one way or another, and it didn't seem to be doing Lupercus any harm.
In fact, he appeared to be thoroughly enjoying it, one cheek puffed out like a chipmunk's. But she had never heard of any vampire who made eating solid food a habit.
At last he swallowed, and ran his tongue around his lips, cleaning them of the dark red liquid - he was a messy eater. "Try it. I believe you'll be pleasantly surprised, even if it is not exactly traditional for... our kind."
"What is it? Besides luagás I mean. That's only a name."
"Cake, nothing more," Lupercus smiled. "It is neither enchanted nor poisoned - you have my word."
Abandoning caution to the wind, Teresa vamped and bit into the cake as she would any regular food; she was hardly out of practice, though she has spent most of the past few days subsiding on blood. The thin crust was flaky, and melted on her tongue the moment it touched, spreading warmth and a delicious lemon-sugar taste throughout her mouth. She took a small sip of blood, and the flavor of the thick, creamy center magnified and sweetened, dissolving so that the liquid she swallowed was thick and rich as syrup. Though there was nothing that escaped, she licked her lips anyway, hoping for more. She met his eyes, smiling expectantly.
"Most of us never loose the 'sweet tooth', you might say," Lupercus rumbled in amusement. "Luagás satisfies as does nothing else we've found, though it's hardly necessary. The recipe is yours, if you'd like it."
"You're trying to bribe me," Teresa responded, nearly laughing. It was really quite funny, trying to buy her- what? Cooperation? Good will? Protection? He already had the one. The others were highly unlikely.
"Perhaps," Lupercus smiled. "Or perhaps I simply am interested in you, Khimaira. It is not every day that I find a legend come to life and willing to sit down and chat. For all your power, you do not yet know the first thing of what you are capable of. The stories say that you can fly." At her startled expression, he nodded gravely. "Have you ever tried?"
"Fly? Vampires can't fly. Neither can Immortals, as far as I know." She glared openly, almost daring him to prove her a liar.
Lupercus licked the crumbling edge of his luagás cake, and drained a portion of his goblet. "Of course they can't," he said, licking red from his fingers. "Not our kind of vampires anyway. You, however, are far much more than the sum total of your parts, as I've said. You are Khimaira, something else entirely." He sighed, turning to face the oversized book and leafing back a few pages. "Azrael once thought that he was to be Khimaira, before he disappeared. I thought he might be, at first - after all, he was the only Immortal that had been successfully turned in all my memory."
Teresa felt the luagás melting between her fingers, but she ignored it. There were so many things that she wanted to know, but she didn't trust the annoyance, almost disgust, in his voice. "Successfully turned?"
He flinched, a hard enough task in a two and a half millennia old creature not faced with any immediate threat to life or limb. She plucked the fragile thread of thought from his mind - a memory so often examined these days that it slipped past - it was clear, and as disturbing as any of the nightmares that haunted her when she could no longer keep the exhaustion at bay.
A girl, no more than ten - an Immortal child, already, and Lupercus had tried to bring her across...
Teresa's head suddenly throbbed, and she put her hands against her ears in immediate, ineffectual defense. She squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as they would go, hissing against the pain. A small puddle of blood drained toward a depression in the floor. Shards of glass and bits of white meal mixed where they had fallen on the floor. "Stop. Stop thinking that. Now. Please..."
His mouth fell open as her demands turned to pleas, and the girl began to hyperventilate, drawing her arms and legs up to her body. At first the more she suffered, the more he couldn't help but think about the whole unfortunate incident. When one of her fangs pierced her lip, and he could see that only sheer force of will was keeping her from leaping up and tearing him to bits, he started to chant - clearing his mind.
Teresa let out a small whimper, and she started to suck on the wound that pierced right through the flesh of her lower lip, shivering in her chair. Lupercus stared at her, realizing how ridiculously easy it would be, even with all her strength and ability, to entrap her, and force her to his will.
"Don't even think about it," she gasped, opening up her pulsing gold-red eyes. "If I had sensed even the slightest hint that you had done that deliberately, your minions would be hard pressed to tell which pieces to expose to the sun, promise or no."
He swallowed, nervous as he had been in centuries. *On second thought...* Teresa wiped the pink-tinged sweat from her forehead, then reached for the half-full bottle on the tray before her. Uncorking it, she tipped it back and swallowed the entire contents in one long draught.
She stopped, shaking, and returned the bottle with a small growl. "Tell me how Azrael came to be."
"Khimaira-"
"And stop calling me that," she snapped, "My name is Teresa."
"Very well, Teresa," Lupercus began, looking far too much the small boy that his body suggested.
"I've all the time in the world," Teresa said grimly, gazing down at where she dropped her meal. The white and red had mixed together to form a small puddle of stomach-turning brownish-pink as the blood dried. Lupercus followed her gaze, then turned his mind away - backwards.
"I didn't turn Azrael, if that is even his real name. Truth be told, I don't know who did. I found him, wandering, alone, confused - he must have just risen, and there were dirt and leaves clinging to his gown. The blood from his first victim was still fresh on his lips.
"This was midwinter's even in the year 981. I had been regent for less than a decade, and those few who had remained at the nest, loyal, or had been turned since Karnus's death, took him in. We taught him all that he needed to know to survive.
"At first there were words - rumors, only, and I paid them no heed. There is always talk among us, and the smallest triviality can become a matter of such great importance, it is not even worth telling. But then, when the stories did not abate, but grew louder, until everyone seemed to agree... Screams came from the Sanctuaries in the daylight hours.
"Azrael remembered little of his life before becoming a vampire, but he was convinced, and refused to be dissuaded, that he had died once before, and come back to life. I brought him into my private chambers, here, where you are now, and through his rantings and ravings - his mind was close to gone already, I think - he told me much the same that he'd told all the others.
"'I lived before - as many years as a man, but as I am now.' 'A vampire, yes,' I said. 'That's what you are, what you will remain.' He became enraged, flying into such a fury that I was certain he would tear the place apart with his bear hands, or dash his head against the cold rock until he would do no one any more harm.
"'Where is my sword?' he asked, and when I told him that I had found him with neither sword nor dagger, clothed in the white gown of the dead, a vicious fire burned in his eyes. All of a sudden, a change, like a great pressure had been lifted from his shoulders, came over him. He was furious still, but weeping at the same time. 'I felt so naked without it. My sword. I need my sword or they will come for me.' 'Whom?' I asked. 'Them!'
"He was trembling all over, I remember, like a blade of grass before a storm. Again I told him that I did not know who could menace him, that all the demons of the weir were under my protection. That as long as they served me and only me, they need have no fears. He was so scared, almost terrified, couldn't move at all. 'The others will come for me, kill me once and for all and I'll be dead. No more Azrael; no more me.'
"At that time I started to believe he meant the Slayer, that he might have been a Watcher's child, or a Watcher himself, or had some knowledge of her... There had not been a Slayer in the vicinity of the nest in over three and a half centuries, and I wanted at all costs to avoid attracting one. I tried to get more out of him, but he would say nothing, and had taken up residence in a corner of the room, growling.
"I ordered him taken to the dungeons and chained in the cubiculo sol, so that he cold not escape even if he could undo the fetters that bound him. It took eight of my strongest to subdue him.
"Rumors, of course, began to circulate, fresher and stronger than ever before, that Azrael was no ordinary demon, not once of 'our kind'. There was no way to prevent it, especially with the screams that came up from the dungeons, day after day." Lupercus sighed, casting his golden eyes down. "I should not have waited as long as I did, but I knew only that if there was a Slayer that knew of our existence, we had to distract her, then drive her away, or kill her if we could. But we couldn't kill her, not even all of us together, and there were more of us then.
"Six nights went by in this way, me trying to decide what to do. Then, when the count was taken that morning, one was missing from the ranks. Alescia, little Alescia. She was the smallest of us, but nearly the oldest. I miss her still - those sweet golden curls, her small smile, how much she delighted in playing with her food before she sucked them dry as old husks..."
He could sense that Teresa's interest was quickly declining, and shook his head, trying again to bring to mind the image of his sweet Alescia. She'd died long before the age of instant cameras and video tapes that could record a vampire's face.
"We turned on him, drove him out, would have killed him. I haven't seen him since then, but I knew in the back of my mind that he wasn't dead."
"Tell me about the legend."
"Which one?"
"Start from the beginning," she snapped, licking her lips. For some reason the blood was settling uneasily in her stomach. Usually it was the opposite that occurred - food was more likely to turn sour when she was upset or irritated. Perhaps it was the smell of the blood on the floor, drying, that was causing it.
Lupercus hardly needed the book in front of him to remember what she was asking for, but he turned toward the beginning anyway, the very beginning, where the pages were more brittle and broke easily. He could barely read the faded words - brown seeped into brown so that they were little more than irregularly placed splotches marring the surface.
"Once," he began, not looking up at her. He was too lost in thought, remembering the time when he had first been told this same legend as his fingers skimmed across the pages. "A long, long time ago, before mortal animals, before humans, before the Immortals had first appeared, demons controlled this reality-demons of unrivaled power and strength. This was their home, their paradise. Then, gradually, things began to change. The world that they knew was beginning to dissolve. They were loosing control over this world, but they fought for it."
"When the first mortal animals began to appear, they were driven away, hounded back to the furthest corners of the Earth. Many of them died, but unlike the demons that had come before them, they didn't simply vanish. They lived on, in a way that few of the demons could understand. It has been that way since the very beginning-lack of understanding leads to fear, fear leads to hate, hate leads to horror. It was not long before the mortal animals, humans included, began to fight back. They started killing the demons that were killing them. There was slaughter all over the face of the Earth, and blood ran like water over the ground. For an age, it looked like neither would gain control - that the world would become barren - a wasteland where nothing grew, and nothing lived."
"The oldest and most powerful of demons began to disappear, simply going away, never to be seen again. As they left, a new race started to appear among the humans. They were foundlings, all of them, raised with the human families that took them in. On the outside they appeared normal, but after they died for the first time - and life was short back then, instead of going beyond, following the rest of the mortal animals, they rose from the grave. They were reviled, cast out, attacked as demons, but since nobody knew how they could be killed, they generally survived, becoming wild and reclusive, living on the edges between early people and the last remnants of the demons."
"Every day, fewer and fewer demons were seen. Those that remained were the smallest and sharpest of their kind, the ones that humans had either ignored or been unable to catch. The great hunts became rare. There were no more of the big ones to overcome. They had all either disappeared or been killed. One of the last demons to leave this reality fed on a human, and in the fight, their blood was mixed. Both the human and the demon died, but the human rose, his body cold, but his mind alive. The spirit of the demon was inside of him, controlling him, living on through him. He learned by experience that he could not stand sunlight, that he must feed on blood to survive. It was not until he had made more like himself what else could kill him was discovered-the stake through the heart, immolation by fire. Water from holy springs would burn the skin. Symbols of human faith would repel him."
"For a little while, a bare breath of time in the grand scheme, there was a proliferation of hybrids-results of matings and rituals, even accidents between the few remaining demons, the mortals, and the Immortals. Most had the appearance of humans. They varied in power from those able to call disaster with a thought, to those who could change forms, to those who could work such small magicks as encouraging flowers to grow, or creating images of things and creatures using pigments and cave walls."
Teresa shifted in her chair, no longer as irritated as she had been just a few moments before, blinking. Lupercus noticed her surprise, and nodded solemnly.
"Yes. Creation of that type is very much a trait bred into humans. It is far older than them. People today don't realize how much magic is around them. Every painting or drawing they see, it's there." He gestured toward the book in front of him. "Every word they read. It's there. Every song, every hymn, every crude sailor's ditty has a bit of something in it that goes back toward the beginning of time. Every dance, every tapestry, every piece of embroidery, it's in there too. Every hint of color or creative impression not absolutely necessary for survival is magic. Humans bemoan the loss of magic because they're so swamped with it that they cannot see it - they're drowning in beauty and begging for more." He smiled, dusting at the subtly embroidered vest he was wearing. It wasn't considered anything special now, but even two hundred years ago, it would have taken weeks of work and a lot of money. "But I digress."
"With the new types of people being discovered, and the growth in their population, the Immortals that had once been so hated found their way back in to the primitive cultures. They formed loose societies, supported each other, and moved around so that no one knew of them. The lived by their own rules, and somewhere along the line the first head was taken, the first Quickening released."
"With various kinds of vampires, Immortals, and hybrid demons like the Sphinx and the Centaur all living with and around the humans, it seemed like the few pure demons remaining, already forced into hiding, could be forgotten. There was hunting and agriculture, clothing, children, lives to be lived. Why think about the monsters that attacked occasionally then disappeared into the woods when tomorrow's meal is far from a certainty? The solidarity of the mortal animals broke apart. Some of the more intelligent species, those who might have rivaled humans, were killed off, or died off. People killed them. People killed people. Vampires killed people. Immortals killed Immortals. Immortals killed people, killed vampires, killed hybrids. No one was there to notice when in the deep of the woods started again to whisper with nightmares that had not been seen in ages."
"By the time that the earth's inhabitants discovered what was lurking in their shadows, it was too late. Demons - the old ones, the ancient ones that had simply gone away long, long before - appeared among them. They attacked en masse, wiping out whatever they touched, determined to reclaim what they felt was rightfully theirs. They killed everything living, everything undead. If it had a shred of mortality to it, they destroyed it. Nothing was safe."
"What was needed was a miracle. Populations were being wiped out faster than ever before. No one and nothing was safe. Somewhere along the line, a small group was forced together--Immortals, mortals, vampires, and several hybrids, all driven by one of the ancients. They saw what was going to happen if they fought each other instead of working with one another, and somehow were able to put aside their differences."
"It was decided that between them they would create a champion-a being as powerful as the ancient demons, faster than the fastest vampire, with the best of the abilities of the hybrids, the Immortal's tendency to cling to life, and the human being's adaptability and tenacity. They knew there was danger in creating such a life-how easily it could turn on them, especially with its demonic component-but there was no other choice left."
"The magicks that they used to do what they did are long lost; possibly they were never known outside of the small group that worked them. Legend has it that the one pre-immortal among them was chosen as the focus. Some versions say that she went willingly, others that she was forced, but in the end, what emerged was a creature far different than anything the world had seen before, and they called her the Khimaira."
"She was able to defeat the demon that held them locked together for survival, but when it was dead, the others in the group tried to gain control of her, each for his own benefit. Disgusted at their behavior, and able to know the simple, selfish power-grabbing behind it, she left them behind."
"There are many different accounts of what happened to the Khimaira in the years that followed, some even saying that she fled into isolation, living as an animal or worse, but most seem to agree that she went after the demons that she had been created to destroy, that she slayed them or helped to banish them to separate demon realms. Since there was no one with her to record what happened, it is only known that again the ancient demons began to disappear."
"The record of her existence ends with a demon, just as it began, or, rather, three demons. A powerful trio of dragon-like creatures, each linked by mind and body, since separating them from each other was the only way to destroy them." Lupercus handed Teresa a small fragment of a paper, showing three identical monstrosities covered with coats of needle like scales and razor sharp wings. If she credited the scale given, each was close to a hundred feet long.
"They breathed poisonous gases, and each of their scales was capable of delivering a lethal dose of venom. They could not be surprised, because there was never a time when at least one of the three was not awake. A single brush of their wings could slice a man in two. As fairy tales go, your typical indestructible monster, but this was no fairy tale, and it was killing on a massive scale."
"With the help of some local tribes, the Khimaira was able to lure the demon into a narrow rocky ravine, and push the boulders that lined the cliffs on top of it. They were separated, and two were crushed, buried by the falling rock, but the third one escaped and fled. It could be killed, but it's far from easy to destroy a beast like that, even after it has lost its invulnerability."
"Somehow, they met up again, and the Khimaira managed to grievously wound the demon. There were few people to witness the event, but it is one of the first recorded in several Watcher chronicles. It was written that just before the creature died, it grabbed the Khimaira in its claws, trapping her. Slowly, it pulled itself up, and spread its wings. As it rose up into the air, those down on the ground could see the Khimaira struggling in its grip. Then suddenly a blast of freezing cold wind washed over them, and they saw a black rent in the sky open up. The demon was swallowed up by the blackness, disappearing completely, and only a moment later the tear vanished. The last full demon and the champion of the earth's current inhabitants were gone completely."
"When the sun set that night, one of the few who had been there, a young man by the name of Samiul was dreamt that the Khimaira appeared to him. She told him that she was trapped, but that someday, somehow she would return. Some day the fates would pull her back to earth, to another body prepared for her arrival. She would come in time to fight when the creatures of earth put forth from themselves one of such evil that the demons shivered in anticipation of its birth."
Lupercus licked his lips, not exactly smiling, but something close to it. "Samiul was one of the first Watchers of one of the first Slayers, and I would tell you that story, but certainly not tonight. It is it is getting close to morning, and you could find out from any Watcher's library the origins of the Slayer."
Teresa nodded slightly, her manner subdued, her mind doing its best to come to terms with what she was hearing. "Then I am the same? I am her?" she asked quietly.
"Perhaps you share the same soul, Teresa. You can't remember what it was like back then, but perhaps it's there, somewhere, waiting to be let out. Or perhaps it's not. But you -are- the Khimaira, Teresa. Make no mistake about that. You were an Immortal, yet you were successfully turned. That in itself seems to happen only once every few hundred years. If Azrael sent you to me, he must believe that you are the Khimaira. Tell me, what made you come here?"
"Excuse me?"
"Why did you come here?"
"I wanted to know what I was. I already said that."
"But Teresa," Lupercus said, shaking his head, then looking up at her. "Everyone wants to know her own identity. Tell me you didn't feel some need, some compulsion, to search in places that few know of and fewer still see. Tell me you didn't know in your heart that you would find something. You said yourself that there was something more to your story, before you heard any of this."
Teresa was silent.
"One of the most important and wide-spread prophecies concerning the Khimaira was recorded in the year 70 AD by a reclusive Roman scholar. His name has been lost, but it was hard to forget, once heard." He closed his eyes. "And one shall come from a land of war... And one shall come from a land of peace... And the chains of love being bound together in blood and pain... And the one that would be called Evil..." Lupercus stopped, noticing Teresa's reaction to the phrasing.
"You've heard it before, then. It would be the one that you've heard. So many others were burned during the Inquisition that you're virtually unknown. Time was that the prophecy of your coming was as widely known a legend as vampires or unicorns-"
"Unicorns." There was a touch of sarcasm to her voice.
Lupercus looked at her in all seriousness. "You really think people are that creative?"
Teresa just shook her head, wondering if there was any mythical creature that had never really existed. She was living proof that prophecies sometimes come true. "So what do I do until I have to fulfill this, this all seeing prophecy?"
Lupercus actually laughed, real mirth dancing in his eyes which had returned without her noticing to their rich brown color. "Why, you live Teresa. You go out and do whatever you feel like doing. You have eternity in front of you, and you ask, 'so what do I do now?'. You're free. You can be anything you please in the world!"
"Anything..." Teresa was mumbling more to herself than speaking aloud, her eyes unfocused. "A new identity? A different me?"
The disturbing sensation of something creeping nearby, like long-legged spiders crawling up and down her spine, tore Teresa instantly out of her ruminations. She jumped in her seat, and cast her eyes back toward the exit, only to find that a girl dark haired as herself was standing less than an arm's length away. She gulped back a cry of surprise. Here, in this underground lair, she had met two beings whose minds were closed to hers. If they decided they wanted her... Teresa could see far into the nearly black pools that were Tyrivnya's eyes, and in them she saw a creature nearly as mad as Drusilla, and perhaps even more dangerous. The confidence that she had shielded herself with took a direct hit, yet remained intact.
"Tyrivnya," Lupercus said, gesturing for her to come forward. As she did, Teresa noted the blouse and skirt combination, almost gypsy-like with bright bits here and there, that she wore. The fabric brushed against her legs. "I see you've brought the DeOrc Glass. What color is it tonight?"
"Black as coal, black as pitch," Tyrivnya whispered, standing right next to Teresa. Though she wavered as if she might fall to the floor any second, she didn't lean on the desk or against the wall. She turned her wide, nothingness-filled eyes to Teresa's, and the two females locked that way for a moment. "Black as the heart of the blackest witch."
Teresa glanced at the small silver object that Tyrinvyna held against her body. It looked stained and tarnished, and had the shape of a hand-held mirror with a long handle. The entire thing, what was not covered by the mad vampire's fingers, was elaborately inscribed with some sort of runes that she had never seen before. Tyrivnya flexed her hands around it.
"You see nothing for our guest here then?" Lupercus asked, not exactly certain what was going on between the two. He knew well enough what the different colors of the DeOrc Glass meant, and black wasn't one of them. "Show us the Glass," he ordered when neither breathed a word.
Tyrivnya turned such a look of contempt his way that Lupercus was tempted to add a few words. She was his junior by some thirteen hundred years, and hadn't much strength, but she was unpredictable. One of the innumerable drawbacks to being turned early-one couldn't rule by brute force alone. He was glad when she faced Teresa again.
"Black in the night, brings us starlight," Tyrivnya chanted, keeping the DeOrc Glass pressed tightly against her abdomen. "Light we need though we are black, perfect vision we sadly lack. Though nations fall and empires rise, this one brings a sweet surprise."
As she listened to the girl's words, Teresa felt little. It was as if she had managed to separate herself into two halves-one to watch and listen, and one to mull over what she took in.
"When the deeds are done, and the wars are won, when the world is born again, she will be alone with he, who dying will unbalance the plan." Tyrivnya grinned toothily. "So it again it goes, the story grows, and the fights begin anew. Emerging again from nothingness, she regains her innocence, and therefore there's the blackened hue."
Tyrivnya laid the DeOrc Glass down on the desk so that both Teresa and Lupercus could see into it. There was nothing to see. It was like staring at the dark sky from underneath the ice of a pond-slick and shifting, but sickening too, with the strangling feeling of being drowned. Teresa looked away as Lupercus handed the Glass back to its owner. "You're free to go Tyrivnya."
The girl-vampire took her prize possession with another beaming smile, aiming it directly at Teresa, before clutching it to her chest and taking off at a run down the narrow, tightly packed room. Somehow, she made it through, knocking over only one large fuzzy stuffed bear with nothing but threads for eyes. The soft sound it made as it hit the stone floor covered any from Tyrivnya.
Teresa calmly focused on Lupercus, who was not looking at her, but rather at where Tyrivnya had gone. She quickly glanced at the book he could easily have crawled on to, then shook her head, bringing his attention. "I have to go. Tonight. Now." She stood, watching his expression shift briefly to disbelief, then become stone once more.
"You don't want to hear the other prophecies? The words of people who've predicted you for thousands of years? Don't you want to know the future? Your future?" He smiled, as if that should instantly cause her to return to her seat.
*No. Not if I live to be a thousand, no. Not if I live to be ten-thousand. I want no more part in this.* "No." Teresa almost stumbled over a collection of nestled wicker baskets as she turned away and started to head for the exit. When she felt a hand on her arm, she viciously shook it off, causing Lupercus to hit hard against the solid wood of the desk. She snarled, pressing forward so that he had to push his back up against the unyielding surface to avoid coming into contact with her. Teresa crouched down, putting on hand on the floor and leaning toward him.
"I have learned enough. I don't want to know any more prophecies. If I have no choice in the future, then I don't want to know about it. If I wanted to know my life was going to be nothing but doom and gloom, I'd go to New York and find some nutcase on the street wearing a cardboard box. If I wanted to know my life was going to be a bed of roses, I'd phone the Psychic Hotline. Now, I would like to thank you soundly for what you've given me, but, as you so keenly pointed out, I have a life to live."
She released him, and shook her head slightly as her face returned to normal. "I will remember the bargain. If I can ever help you, I will, but don't expect anything more than that. I don't know whether to like you or hate you, yet. Maybe I'll come around here again some time in a few hundred years, or maybe I won't."
Teresa knew, somehow, in that instant, that something had changed. A terrible premonition washed over her that was all emotion with absolutely nothing substantial to back it up. There was going to be a shifting, and she was going to be there. She jumped across the room, moving from open space to tiny open space, and was, within a fraction of a second gone from view.
Lupercus shook his head, and standing, brushed the dust off of his pants and shirt. He looked up at his shelves, and rearranged three sets of salt and pepper shakers with a century old deck of cards. "Nothing like young demons to add a bit of excitement to a dull day."
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