Chapter Ten - Part Two

From tip to tip they must’ve spanned at least ten feet in length and four in height – a useful combination indicative of both Shira’s speed and strength.

But Tidus still had his eyes trained on the curator, as focused and blasé as ever. Shira, clearly, hadn’t phased him in the slightest.

“You’re dying, aren’t you, Mr. Foster?” asked Tidus suddenly, and in a tone that was uncharacteristically gentle.

With shock, I watched the color drain from Mr. Foster’s face, as Shira the Sphinx shook her great head and angrily gnashed her sharp teeth.

“Yes,” Mr. Foster whispered, looking stricken.

“Tidus, how do you know that?” I asked, looking at him in astonishment.

“From the moment Humans are born, they’re already dying.” Tidus replied casually, passing his gaze back and forth between the curator and me. “The decay of death is always present, and the closer you get to it, the stronger the stench – and you happen to be very close to death, Mr. Foster. You’re knocking on its very door. You’re so close to it that even your own body’s recognized defeat, and it’s already starting to surrender the fight. Your organs are shutting down, and your other insides are beginning to rot. Cancer, I’m assuming. How much time have they given you?”

“Ten months.” Mr. Foster croaked, his face more ashen still. He produced a handkerchief from his inside coat pocket, and began to mop up the beads of sweat that had accumulated across his brow.

“Well, I can tell you right now you’ve probably got five – max. And that’s being optimistic.”

The last of Mr. Foster’s resolve crumbled and blew away, like a statue destroyed in the wind.

“But I can offer you a deal. I can save you… in exchange for the amulet.”

A series of emotions seemed to pass over Mr. Foster’s face as he looked at Tidus. I registered fear, wonder, hope, and then finally, anger. He seemed to gather all of the resentment and the loathing and the bitterness he could muster and then focused it all, vehemently, at Tidus.

“No. I don’t want to be a Vampire – cursed to live thousands of life times over and over with only my sins for company? Thanks, but I would rather not.” said the curator in a snarl.

“Of course, you don’t want to be a Vampire.” Tidus replied kindly, completely unaffected by Mr. Foster’s abhorrence. “You wouldn’t have the stomach for it. But I can give you something else instead – the gift of healing. I can save you, Mr. Foster, without turning you into a Vampire. After all, you aren’t ready to die yet, are you?”

Unable to hide the obvious, Mr. Foster nodded weakly.

“You want more time? Well, I can do that for you.”

–        He speaks the truth, Benjamin. The blood of his kind is of a healing elixir, and he offers it willingly. Take him for his proposition. –

This last had come from Shira, but her lips had never moved. I heard her voice in my head, speaking telepathically, as she regarded Mr. Foster with her large, solemn eyes.

All attention was on the curator as he took a few moments to think quietly to himself, but I felt I knew the route he would choose. A healing restorative was too precious, too rare, to pass up for anything – not even dignity or self-respect. But, in my eyes, Mr. Foster had already proven his courage anyway just by standing up to a Werewolf and a Vampire. So I wouldn’t hold it against him for choosing life over his pride.

Slowly, Mr. Foster reached into his pocket again, but this time he withdrew a small ring of keys. Carefully, he sorted through a few of them, before selecting the right one to unlock the case.  And after retrieving the ring’s box, he snapped the lid over it and then held it, outstretched, to me. But I didn’t move, still undecided upon whether or not I should take it.

“The box is perfectly safe, Naomi.” Mr. Foster assured, so I took it. “The ring however, is very much cursed. A bitter ex-employee decided to tempt fate and steal the ring once. Needless to say, he ended up in a tragic murder-suicide with his girlfriend. There was a complete cover-up of course, but when it was stolen again right afterwards, it became significantly more difficult to keep the Hunters from confiscating it after it was returned. So I suggest that you and Tidus keep very quiet that you have the Countess’ ring in your possession.”

“And who stole the ring the second time around?” I asked with curiosity.

“The culprit was never identified, but I’ll always remember the name of the man who returned it. Jack Noble.”

“Are you sure?” I said sharply, feeling my heart almost stop in my chest.

“Yes,” Mr. Foster replied, looking at me with mild interest. “But this was several years ago. He simply showed up at the museum one day, and said that he had found the ring and wanted to return it. He was very mysterious about the details, and when questioned by the staff he couldn’t say how he came across it – it was quite odd. And the owner of the museum briefly considered pressing charges, but I suppose his relief at merely having the ring returned to the museum was what changed his mind in the end… Shira? A phial and a small knife, would you please?”

Out of respect, the three of us turned our backs as Shira transformed again and then slipped back into her clothes. I stared at the ground, silently pondering the ring’s sudden connection to my father. I wondered how he had come across it and how he had known it to be stolen to begin with. And then an awful, brief thought occurred to me that perhaps it had been Jack who had taken it in the first place, but I refused to dwell on this dark possibility. As far as I was concerned, Jack Noble could never have been a thief. The man from my letters just wasn’t capable of it.

But I didn’t have long to consider much of this before Tidus’ voice wrenched me from my thoughts.

“And I suppose you had no idea that the ring was associated with your family?”

“No, I didn’t.” I replied. “Don’t you think I would have thought to mention it if I had?”

“Rather interesting connecting though, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” I said, gazing back at him steadily. “I guess it is.”

Shira didn’t take long to return after that, and wasted no time in handing Tidus the materials.

“Here you are, killer.” she said, with the ghost of a smirk.

But Tidus said nothing, choosing instead to regard her with his usual, preferred coldness. I then watched as he removed his leather jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. Unflinchingly, he used the knife to slice an inch-long opening across his own wrist, deftly using the phial to catch the ichor that began to drip from the wound. And without considering, I walked to him after he had wrapped the towel over his arm. Giving him a quick look, I removed his other hand, gently replacing it with my own, and applying pressure.

“You don’t have to do that.” Tidus said, but not unkindly. “The towel’s more for the mess than anything.”

And sure enough, I lifted the towel to reveal Tidus’ arm beneath. He was healed, with no previous marks or even redness to hint that he had been injured just seconds before. Hmm. So it was true. Vampires really did heal more quickly and efficiently than us Werewolves.

“A few drops are all it should take to cure you of your sickness.” Tidus said, speaking to the curator. “But I should warn you, there will be a few minor side effects.”

Tidus then tossed the vial to the curator, who caught it, but observed Tidus shrewdly.

“Side effects? What kind of side effects?”

“I’ll always know what you’re feeling. And should the need ever arise, I can find you again – no matter where you go.”

“Well, I would hardly call those minor!”

“But it’s worth it, if you want to live.” I counseled, silently urging him to reconsider his hesitation.

“I suppose you’re right.” he said after a few seconds’ pause, once again conceding.

And for a moment, the rest of us watched together, in silence, as Mr. Foster held the phial upwards to the light. It was full of a dark, viscous, liquid that looked more like thick sludge than actual blood. But despite its unpleasantness, I knew it still remained the closest thing to the Elixir of Life than the world had ever gotten. And to think that such a miracle had lain with the Vampires all along…

*  *  *

With the deal done and the stock exchanged, Tidus and I took our leave from the museum in the company of Mr. Foster and Shira. But once we had reached the first floor, a thought sprang to mind, so I surreptitiously fell back, and joined Shira in her stride.

“Um, Shira, could I ask you something?”  I asked in a quiet voice.

“Please do.” she replied, in solemn courtesy.

“When Mr. Foster said that you have the Seeing Eye, and that you can recognize people for who they really are… Well, just how accurate was his claim?”

“I am never wrong, if that is what you mean.” she said, with a knowing smile. “I know where this is going, but are you sure you wish to know?”

I hesitated, but for only a moment.

“I’m sure. I wanna know.”

“Well, you’re Wolf down to your very core, but you also have a Humanness that I find quite beautiful, and refreshing. And there is something else hovering about your aura – something other – but what it is, and whether it is good or bad, is not for me to say. That is something that you must discover on your own terms.”

“Ok. Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.” I said, feeling slightly appeased. “And what about Tidus? What do you see when you look at him?”

I caught his eye from across the room but he didn’t smile. He knew what I was doing because he could hear perfectly well what we were saying, but I didn’t care. I wanted to know. I had to.

“Mmm, that one. He has the eyes of a charmer and the mouth of a dead poet, but your friend’s insides are all… twisted up.” she said, with a secretive,