CHAPTER FOUR: THE 49%

“On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the rage of a thousand suns and one being mildly annoyed, how are you feeling about that interview, Caemorn?” Balthazar asked him as they exited the television studio building and were embraced by the brisk nighttime air. 

Caemorn hardly heard him as he was bracing for their fans and their haters. There seemed to be an ever growing group of people that would show up at whatever television station they were at and would stand outside waiting for them. Balthazar, who always cut a handsome and now famous figure, in his long burgundy coat and dark brown, three-piece suit with thin lines of cream, would greet them easily and eagerly. Even those who brandished stakes and thrust crucifixes at them got smiles from the Eyros Vampire.  

Most people would cry for Balthazar’s autograph or a selfie, which he would provide gladly. Others would beg for him to bite them, which he would promise to provide another time with a cheeky wink and a hint of fang. And, of course, there were those who promised him a stake through the heart and a missing head. To those, Balthazar’s silver eyes would turn and simply glow. He would not say anything to them. Just half smile and stare. They would back away. Slowly, at first, but then they would turn on their heels and flee. Balthazar would “come back to life” then with grins and jokes and an affectionate peck for one and all. But in those moments he faced off against those who hated and feared them, even those who loved Vampires saw that they were not human. 

But here he and Balthazar were, in the middle of the sidewalk, and no one was even looking their way.  There was no crowd. There were no flashes from camera phones or the thrust of paper and pen in his hands to sign.  Caemorn’s shoulders relaxed.  Had the humans grown bored with them? Perhaps Vampires were now old news. But no. He knew the answer why. Balthazar had sent out a mental wave of command that had sent them all away. And no one would even look at them now.  They were seemingly invisible. 

Is he really worried I am upset about that interview?  Normally, he adores talking to both fans and haters.

Balthazar continued, “You can’t be anywhere near a ten! I mean, you got to talk about your favorite subject. Or rather, talk about how you’re not going to talk about your favorite subject. Ever.  So not a ten, to be sure. You must tell me where you are on the scale.”

“That is a childish question.  A ridiculous question.” Caemorn dusted the back of one hand over his long, black overcoat as they walked to the curb.  Cars whooshed past.  “Almost as ridiculous as what you said during the interview that led them to ask me about the afterlife. Again. Despite me telling you not to do so.”

Balthazar’s mouth was twitching as if to break out into an inappropriate grin. But he quickly squashed the reaction after one of Caemorn’s sharp looks. But still he crowed, “I knew you were annoyed! About a three on the scale, I’d say. Yes, a three or maybe, a two and a half. I wonder if I should go into decimals here?”

Caemorn shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts by gazing around them. Chicago’s cityscape swept out before him. Caemorn’s silver eyes took in the highlights. The river that cut through the downtown like a snake with two heads. The elaborate bridges that would split and rise up as boats passed underneath causing yet more traffic jams. The many styles of architecture where the top of every building looked like a miniature castle made of stone, glass or metal.  The ebb and flow of tourists and locals as they wended their way through the city’s grid of streets. 

One of those wending people was Ridley who had been sent to pick them up.  He could see her driving the Maybach towards them on Michigan Avenue. She was stuck on the other side of the bridge by a light.

“You can read my mind,” Caemorn pointed out. “Why do you need me to tell you anything about what I’m thinking or feeling?”

“Because it’s good to talk about what’s going on in that head of yours!” Balthazar insisted.  “Get it all out there! Don’t hold back and explode later–”

“And have Tarn and Farun chase you around Nightvallen, for example, as my rage combusts?” Caemorn suggested dryly. 

His werewolves adored chasing Balthazar. He rather adored watching them chase Balthazar. Especially up trees…

Balthazar blinked rapidly. “Ah… well, that is very specific. Were you thinking of doing that?”

Caemorn sighed. “You have the minds of every single person on Earth and the Ever Dark to dip into, but you seem to take delight in only mine.”

“Well, not only yours. My Christian’s mind is quite scintillating. But yours is… well, it’s like the one locked door in a huge, mysterious mansion. One can’t help but wonder what’s going on inside.”  

Balthazar buttoned his long burgundy coat and adjusted the cashmere muffler up to his chin.  Vampires might not feel cold like humans did, but they liked to be cozy.  Balthazar was especially fond of creature comforts.

“And, again, I have told you that you are welcome to look to your heart’s content,” Caemorn answered as he popped the collar of his as the brisk wind came in from the lake.

“A mind is not a file drawer, Caemorn, with tabs neatly collating all of a person’s thoughts on any given subject.” Balthazar made a riffling motion with his fingers before encasing them in supple leather gloves that were fur lined.  Comfort.  “It is the person who gives it order and meaning. So yes, I could know all your thoughts, but that would be like reading an encyclopedia and calling it literature.”

“I’m certain you could figure it out,” Caemorn objected.  “You are Eyros after all.”

Balthazar paused a moment to preen, which allowed Ridley to edge ever closer to them in nighttime traffic.  Perhaps they should just walk to her. It might be faster.  He should have asked Fiona to send a Wyvern with them.  They had things to do. 

He, especially, wanted to check in on the 49% of himself loose out there. He knew that Balthazar would correct him and call the large slice “Quinn Mallory”.  It was best not to give the slices names or act as if they were people in any way. It just made things messier. Especially since seemingly unlike the Artemis Alucius slice or Roan Tithe slice, Quinn Mallory was… kind.

Or had the appearance of kindness.

Mix that with the fact that the 49% had a comely face and figure, along with two gentle and unassuming grandparents who adored him, and… well… when Caemorn absorbed him there might be consternation. Some might actually object to his absorption.  Balthazar had actually suggested that they wait the twenty years or so until Quinn’s grandparents were dead before they did anything.

“Why?” Caemorn had snapped.

Balthazar’s eyes had widened at his tone. “Well, because… questions, you know? People won’t understand about the slicing thing, because we can’t really explain it to them.  All they will see is the Immortal Kaly literally soul-sucking a young man to oblivion. And that would violate the Blood Pact.”

To explain that he–or he as he had been as the Immortal Kaly–had been slicing his soul for tens of thousands of millennia was not something that they could tell the humans. There were many reasons for this, but the biggest was that there were parts of himself out there that wanted to destroy said humanity or worse. 

“You could make his grandparents forget him,” Caemorn had insisted.

“Madness,” Elgar had murmured from his place by the mantlepiece in the Eyros Palace where they were having this discussion. 

Caemorn stared at the diffident dark-haired Vampire who rarely met others’ eyes. Elgar did not have the accustomed skull with him. Since he’d had his lover Demos ink one on his chest, he seemed more at ease without it. But to have him speak of madness might have been referring to himself and not the conversation. He had laid insensate in the earth with Eyros’ corpse since the War, only to drag himself out when he sense Eyros’ return in Balthazar.

“What Elgar means is that when you try to take the memory of a beloved person… it doesn’t work very well. They know something is missing. They search for that missing someone endlessly.  They’re consumed by it,” Balthazar sought to explain. His elegant hands moved in front of him as if seeking for a lost object. “Slowly, but surely, they go mad.”

“It is not always slow,” Elgar said, staring at a vase and not at them.

“So you want me to wait twenty years until they are dead?” Caemorn shook his head in disgust.

“What is twenty years to us?” Balthazar pressed.  “When they’re gone, if he goes missing… well, no one will notice.”

“Surely, he will make new friends or even lovers during that time,” Christian, who was seated next to Balthazar paging through a book, pointed out.

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t have any friends or lovers now. His whole life is… death,” Balthazar said. “He stays very much to himself. Once his grandparents pass, there will be no one who will notice if he just goes missing.”

“The slices will find him well before then. We cannot risk it. Make his grandparents think he’s dead or disappeared now,” Caemorn insisted.

“They’ll go to the authorities. This will cause a chain of events that not even Seeyr could see the end of.  It could lead to violations of the Blood Pact,” Balthazar said. “Or, at least, appearances of violations.”

“You cannot disappear one lone human with no friends?  Are you telling me that the great Eyros cannot do this when a common street thug can?” Caemorn insisted.  “Why are you putting up roadblocks?” 

Balthazar’s eyes slid from his. “Roadblocks? I’m not–”

“Yes, you are! There is no reason to delay. If you will not help me, I will do it myself–”

“Caemorn, I will help you! I… just… wait a moment.” Balthazar crossed and recrossed his legs. He looked so uncomfortable that Caemorn shifted slightly. 

“You need to tell him,” Christian said quietly as he put a hand over one of Balthazar’s and squeezed it.

“Tell me what?” Caemorn demanded even as he felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff about to teeter off. Asking questions of an Eyros was like that.  Christian wouldn’t speak with such solemnity unless it was something dire. 

Balthazar sighed and pinched the top of his nose. “You’re not sure.”

“I’m not sure… about what?”  Caemorn held himself very stiffly.

“That he’s you,” Balthazar answered simply. 

“Christian, you traced the soul in the crystal skull to the 49%--”

“I did,” Christian agreed with a brief nod.

“So there is no question that he–”

“But you have questions. You’re not sure,” Christian pushed past his verbal defenses. The delicately handsome face regarded him with tenderness. “You were so determined to absorb him when I first identified him. You left the Ever Dark to go after him. You went directly to the funeral home. But then…”

“Then I…” Caemorn stopped. He suddenly found himself quite unwilling to speak of what had happened.

Balthazar’s mouth was a crumpled smile. Christian looked so intently at him. Even Elgar was casting glances his way. He despised being on display. He almost turned his back on them so as to hide. But that was absurd. It was like a child pulling a blanket over his head, thinking that the monsters would be stymied.

“What happened? What made you stop, Caemorn?” Christian asked. 

“Nothing!” Caemorn growled sharply.  “I merely require your assistance–”

“But you do not,” Elgar murmured. “The great Kaly does not require assistance in this. What could we do for you that you could not do yourself?”

“I merely ask that you are there, Balthazar. Is that too much to ask?” Caemorn was surprised at how rough he sounded. How strained.

Balthazar practically jumped from the sofa and came towards him, right hand outstretched. But Caemorn avoided the touch. As he usually did. So Balthazar merely stood nearby. Hands to himself.

“I would go with you anywhere, Caemorn! I would be by your side in Hell itself if you needed me there,” Balthazar promised him, his hands curling into fists in front of him. Caemorn both loved and hated the warmth that filled him with those words. Still part of him feared how much he needed to hear them, believing that Balthazar would stop wanting to be there one day.  “But I won’t force you to do a thing you do not wish to do.”

“Do not wish–I assure you–”

“I am Eyros,” Balthazar laughed sadly. “Not even you can lie to me.”

“I can lie very well,” Caemorn insisted, but his mouth tasted of bitter ashes. Balthazar, of all people, would know he was not altogether certain about this course of action with the 49%.  With Quinn Mallory.

“Yes, yes,” Balthazar smiled sadly, “but in this case, it is my duty to cut through those lies. Caemorn, what happened when you went to absorb Quinn Mallory–”

“The 49%!” he hissed, but it sounded more like pleading.

Balthazar nodded, “What happened?”

The fire popped and crackled in the fireplace. The warmth and coziness of the Eyros Palace urged him to sit down in one of the brocade jewel-toned chairs and tell a story. He was among friends. He was… safe. That’s what this palace always made him feel. 

Caemorn sighed and said, “It was a viewing. He should have been closed up, but they’d kept the funeral home open seemingly for one woman. She was elderly as was the deceased. Her brother. I do not believe that… that many people came. But she couldn’t… couldn’t leave him quite yet.”

The scene flowed before him. The coffin at the front of the room. The top section was open so that mourners could walk past and view the deceased. The rows upon rows of chairs were empty except for two at the very front. The woman dressed in a heavy black, skirt suit with an old-fashioned pill box hat and veil was seated in one. And right next to her, his knees facing towards hers was Quinn Mallory. 

Unlike Elgar, who looked away from people far more than he ever looked at them, Quinn was looking at this woman as if there was no one else in the world. His whole attention was upon her and there was no sense that he had to be anywhere else. Mortals were always restless. They checked their phones or watches. They bounced their knees. They twitched and tapped. But not Quinn. He was fully present.

“... too late,” the woman was saying, her voice rough with grief. “I know it’s cliche to say it, but I realize it now. Now when it's too late.” She gritted her teeth.  “I should have just forgiven him ages ago. Then we could have gotten past it. But now… he’s gone and there’s no undoing any of it. All that wasted time.”

“That’s the thing about knowledge,” Quinn told her. “We do not know what we do not know.”

She brought a crumpled tissue to her right eye and dabbed it. “Yes, I believed that my anger and hurt were worth more than whatever Ryan and I could have had. Twenty years.” She shook her head, dabbing her eyes again as more tears squeezed out. “I wasted twenty years.  Can you believe it?”

Quinn didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached over and took the hand that was clenched over her knees. Caemorn blinked as he did it. What was the 49% doing? Getting involved with this–this woman? It wasn’t romantic. It was simply and profoundly kind.

She grasped hold of Quinn’s hand tightly and burst into sobs. Quinn didn’t look uncomfortable nor did he look away. He didn’t retreat though Caemorn knew that she was likely hurting his fingers. His expression remained tender. He was witnessing her grief, not trying to explain it away. Not trying to quiet it to get around the discomfort of it. Only when she was done, did he simply hand her another tissue. She blew her nose and wiped her face.

“Oh, God, I know the Vampires say there’s something after. That’s good… I guess. But I wonder if Ryan will ever know how sorry I am. Maybe he didn't care that things remained unresolved between us. He didn’t reach out either, but…” She bit her lower lip. “I would hate for him to go on thinking I didn’t love him when I did.”

He’d said there were only two people in the room, but he’d known there were three. Ryan was standing in the corner of the room. A dim blue and white glow. He was watching his sister with yearning on his face. He took a step towards her. But Quinn’s eyes flickered to him and he made a small, but definite movement: stay back.

He can see the dead. He is me. Of course, he’s me. He’s…

“Mary,” Quinn said quietly, “I know this might sound trite, but I assure you that your brother knows that you loved him and love him still. He will carry that with him into whatever is after. I promise you.”

Ryan’s ghost nodded vigorously. 

“I…” Mary studied Quinn’s face. Then a brilliant, if watery smile appeared. “I believe you.  Thank you, Quinn.”  She embraced him and, once more, Quinn did not retreat from the touch. “Thank you so much.”

He watched Quinn’s face. His chin rested on Mary’s shoulder lightly. His eyes were closed. His face looked beatific. Light seemed to shine down upon him. A beautiful glittering radiance that had Caemorn bringing an arm up to shade his eyes. But it was gone before he had a chance. 

And so was Ryan’s ghost.

The soul had left. 

Caemorn had not felt him go. And then Caemorn left. Quickly. More than quickly. More than left. 

He’d fled.

He didn’t tell them the last part. About him fleeing. About the smell of flowers. Roses. About the sense that there was something of the beyond about Quinn Mallory. 

“What was the light?” Balthazar breathed.

Christian had moved up to the edge of his seat. “Yes, and there was a–a sound? I could almost hear it like a soft voice in your head at that moment…”

“I don’t recall hearing any voice,” Caemorn sliced his hand through the air.

Elgar blinked slowly. “Quinn Mallory is the 49%. He must be. His ability to see ghosts and communicate with them. His–”

“No, not necessarily,” Caemorn shook his head. “There have been people throughout the ages who have had this ability. And they have not all been part of me.”

“But Christian has traced the soul from the crystal skull to him,” Elgar pushed.

“He is not me,” Caemorn had not meant to say that out loud.  Yet he had.  They all looked at him now. He cleared his throat. “I mean… you are right. I am not certain that he is a slice. I will have him observed in situ.”

“In situ?” Balthazar lifted an eyebrow.

“Where he is! In his funeral home with his grandparents. Unless the slices find him and then… then things will be reassessed,” Caemorn said firmly.

“Right. Yes, of course! Quinn Mallory will remain where he is under our watchful eyes until you… you decide if he’s a part of you… or not,” Balthazar said with an uncertain smile. “Sounds perfect! Doesn’t it, Christian?”

Christian rose up from the couch. His silver eyes were full of kindness, too. He looped his arm through Balthazar’s nearest one. “Yes, we’ll make sure that nothing happens to Quinn.”

That conversation had been a month ago. Several Vampires observed Quinn Mallory at night while several Acolytes watched him during the day. And upon occasion, Caemorn would go watch him, too. On his own. As he considered what to do. Christian and Julian were, in fact, on duty that night watching Quinn. Due to their stature in the Vampire World, neither young man had to do so, but they wished to. For him. 

“You really are an enigma to me!  A lockbox of information and contractions!” Balthazar was still talking about why he was so interested in Caemorn’s mind. He had lost track of that. The Eyros Vampire admitted with a satisfied sigh, “And you know I like talking.”

Yes, Balthazar did like to talk. That had annoyed Caemorn in the past. Not for the reasons that Balthazar likely thought though. It was because Balthazar had never prattled on to him. Because they had not been friends. They had been enemies actually. But now, he was the chief receiver of prattle. And he rather liked it. Which he would never admit. It was like a river of sound that he could drift along to. He was just not fond of having to speak himself. Having to talk was like running into rocks on the river. Sharp and distracting.

Quinn would enjoy Balthazar’s prattle. And he would enjoy the questions, too. He would want to answer them and ask them. Caemorn clenched his jaw. Yet another bit of evidence that the young man could not be him. And if Caemorn did absorb him, how would he change? Would Quinn’s personality overwhelm his? There was so much more of Quinn than there was of him…

“As to why I brought up the spirit thing, I had to get them off the blood thing.” Balthazar made a motion with both hands as if they were scales weighing the badness of both subjects. To Caemorn’s mind, both were verboten. It hardly made sense to bring up a forbidden topic to distract from another forbidden topic. “I will say that Mairead really understands her assignment.  She’s quite the bulldog. I would swear–outwardly, at least–that she hates our guts.”

Would they hate us so much if it was Quinn beside Balthazar instead of me? Someone warm and kind and… He forced himself to stop that line of thought and to answer Balthazar. 

“Her personality profile is one not favored by most. She is used to being rejected and disliked. She is, undoubtedly, conjuring up those remembered emotions and placing them upon us,” Caemorn answered tersely.  “She can act the part of being a failed student, because she likely half thought it would happen in any case.”

“Hate instead of hurt. Ah, yes, it’s quite the effective technique,” Balthazar agreed.

In the past, Caemorn would have questioned whether Balthazar really understood such a technique, surely never having had to use it. The Eyros Vampire was very personable. Even those who hated him liked him on some level. But Caemorn understood Balthazar so much better now. That playful exterior hid someone quite sensitive and easily hurt. It still perplexed him as to how he was one of the people who could cause the most harm. So he was always very careful now with his… friend, Childe, fellow Immortal… They held so many connections to one another that it was hard to classify what they were more to one another. 

Would Balthazar like Quinn better than me? 

That question had something like a black hole opening inside of his chest. He tried to shove it down. 

“This belief that our blood is a panacea for every illness is a fairytale,” Caemorn said, distracting himself from this most important and complicated relationship. He truly hoped that Balthazar was not looking into his head right now. 

“Dr. Biswas is not a fool. Yet she doesn’t seem to think that we’ve looked into this ourselves?  She thinks we’ve never tried to cure cancer or the countless diseases that have ravaged humankind–our food source? It’s ridiculous!” Balthazar shook his head. “Monetizing blood is what we do in a very real way.  And we’d do a bit of brisk business if our blood was a wonder drug.  Not to mention ensuring the health of those we feed upon. Really it’s so absurd.”

“She will not be satisfied until she looks at it herself. It is her nature,” Caemorn answered. 

He understood this. He was a bit of a scientist himself. 

“Yes, yes, but I rather think it is her grief that has made her militant about this rather than her scientific exactness. Thinking she could become one of us and then experiment upon herself for that little group of ghouls of hers was also shortsighted. As if we wouldn’t know!” Balthazar pursed his lips.

“But you insisted we let her into the Academy in the first place. You gave her hope that her plan could work.”

“Only to see how deep the rot went there. And it goes quite far. But the point is that she’s both being too imaginative and not enough,” Balthazar said and raked his fingers through his shoulder length blond hair.  “She thinks about what good she could do with Vampire blood, but doesn’t even consider the bad others would do with it. Are doing with it.”

“Arcius–”

“Is fine! Will be fine!” Balthazar’s voice was slightly sharp and his lower lip trembled for a moment. “I’m not even attempting to look into his mind, because I’m so certain of it.”  That was a lie if he ever heard it. Balthazar was blinking rapidly as if the oncoming headlamps were making his eyes water.  “I was just reminding Fiona earlier about Arcius’ berserker heritage. A warrior. Truly. And his mind… so strong.”

Balthazar was speaking of Arcius Kane.  Arcius had been chosen by King Daemon to investigate a group of humans intent on stealing the gift of immortality. But he’d been discovered and captured though it was hinted that this was all part of the plan. Seeyr, who saw the future like most people saw the road ahead of them, had said almost as much to them. 

Caemorn had always reluctantly admired Arcius. He had actually been jealous of him. Even as Preceptor of the Order, Caemorn had known that Arcius was far more worthy to wear the vestments of the Vampire Church. But he’d had them because he knew the truth. The Order was a fraud concocted by his former self after the terrible War between all the Vampires. A war he had started, too. 

A slice of me. Not me. And soon, I will be whole again. Every slice absorbed. Everything in its place. Except… Quinn’s face came into his mind’s eye again and he pushed it back. This was ridiculous. He would have to absorb Quinn. Balthazar is upset. I must concentrate on him. Just on him.

Caemorn cleared his throat and said simply, “King Daemon would not have given Arcius this important task if he did not believe it necessary and that Arcius could handle it.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Balthazar’s lips pressed together. “But Arcius is… is a teddy bear! Much like Teddy Bone Bear! He might look all big and alarming, but he’s a cuddler. He’s meant to cuddle.”

Caemorn tried to imagine Arcius–the big, black haired, black bearded Vampire that was corded with muscle–being squeezed much like Balthazar did the bear he’d resurrected and dressed in fur suits like a giant stuffed animal. He actually didn’t have to as he was pretty sure that both Julian and Christian had squeezed the big man just like that at some point. Fiona, his lover, likely had too. 

Still, Arcius was a warrior. He was smart and capable and hard headed. He would be all right. And if something untoward were to happen towards him and he should lose his Second Life, Caemorn would bring him back. He tried not to frown as he thought this. It was getting harder to do. Even with more filled soul gems, he was having difficulty and he didn’t know why.

With the 49% absorbed, I will be able to do it, his mind muttered traitorously.

“Ah, here’s Ridley. Finally!” Balthazar exclaimed as the Maybach pulled up in front of them.

But just as Balthazar was about to open the back door, he froze. His silver eyes glowed. He turned his head towards Caemorn, “The boys tell me that there are rogue Vampires at the funeral home.”