How it that was: just a few hours drive from Homer took me a step into an entirely new biome. The humidity wafting in through the open-windows plumped and waved my long hair. I felt almost dizzy from the clear, fresh air. Mint-free air.
Focus on the mission.
An alarming amount of people still flocked here, in spite of the Rangers' warnings. My mouth puckered as I caught-sight of a camper-van trundling happily along in the opposite lane. A family of five appeared to be driving in the SUV behind me.
How stupid can you get?
Humans had naturally been growing apart from their instincts as their societies got better at sheltering them.
But this?
The danger blared from each and every one of their news outlets and yet they ran blindly toward it nonetheless.
Mind those thoughts, I sighed.
The nature center I came upon was a squat, comfortable-looking building with a well-worn exterior. I parked, gathered my things, and poked about for a bit. I wandered, reading plaques about native species I hadn't yet researched. When I reached the plants, however, my eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Lamilis," I murmured, reaching out to run my finger over the image.
The vampire-repellent herb was native to this region? That would explain the safehouse's location.
"Really pretty flower, eh?" An older gentleman noted, nodding his head, "It may still just be in-season, but we're nearing the end. The flowers are unique, little clusters that bloom off of a thistle-like bud."
He pointed as he spoke, formally tracing the teardrop-shape in the image with a finger, like he'd given this explanation before. His shirt was a deep forest-green with official embroidered lettering on the breast; the nameplate beneath it read 'John'.
"I'm actually fond of Lamilis tea," I said.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, gesticulating excitedly with weathered hands, toward another display, "The local Alaska Native tribes, the Lawatscoh tribe in particular, spike their water supply with lamilis extract. It's a tradition based on old legends. You can taste it if you have tap water from any of their diners, restaurants, or water fountains. There's also a newly opened apothecary-type shop in Soldotna, just south of here, that has partnered with native creators to sell locally sourced lamilis teas."
"Really?" I wondered, narrowing my eyes.
I let him guide me to the skinny display detailing the different native tribes on the Kenai Peninsula.
Old legends involving a vampire-repellent herb? I wondered.
"Oh, yes," John nodded, "Their tourist season comes to a close in November, so you've got plenty of time if you want to visit."
"Thanks, I will."
"Which trail are you attempting today?" he continued, clasping his hands behind his back.
I glanced over at him sheepishly.
"Oh, don't you look at me like that," he furrowed his brows, "You were going to choose one of the longer trails, weren't you?"
"Upper Victor's Creek Trail," I admitted.
"No, Dear," John's lined faced creased deeper with worry, "There have been too many missing hikers recently. Only our shorter trails, the loops on the valley floor, are open right now. We finally made national news for disappearances late this past week."
"I see," I mumbled, trying to resist a furrow to my brow. "I'll stick to those, then."
With a parting smile, he wished me safe travels and retreated behind the counter. But John had not deterred me. I was a little more durable than a human and I was on a mission.
I wanted to set eyes on the scenes of the disappearances. Or, at least, to get a higher vantage of the valley. Get the wind on my tongue. Perhaps I'd catch the sharp stink of vampires from where they lay in wait.
The path was clear, bracketed by thick swathes of ferns. My boots thudded hollowly on wooden planks carting me over boggy mush and past golden pops of fungal color. The green in this place, particularly beneath the canopy on a cloudy day, was a deep dusty-olive with not nearly enough blue in it for my liking. But at least the gentle rushing of creek water in the distance and the crinkle of occasional wood-rot beneath my boots was a nostalgic rhythm. I was attentive to my phone as well, taking photos to show my friends.
When a fork presented itself, I chose the longer trail. The mud was less trodden. Good. A more likely hunting-ground for vampires.
The cool air grabbed at the wispy flyaways about my head, the ones I hadn't been able to braid back into a low bun on the nape of my neck. Birds called cheerfully from tree to tree while the river laughed and babbled to the South. A dark-backed, blue-tailed bird jabbered loudly away as it flitted over head.
Finally, the winding route angled sharply back toward the center. I halted, lifting my nose to the air. Nothing smelled different. But it was the perfect spot from which to steal a solo traveler like myself. My heart fluttered with anxiety as I listened.
Somehow, the woods were quieter here.
If I were the predator, I'd watch from a higher vantage. Turning, I glanced up the incline beside me. I'd need a physical enhancement glyph. As I rested a hand over my heart and beneath my partially-unbuttoned shirt, I drew in a breath. It froze over my tongue. The last time I'd cast this spell came to mind. I'd given one to the little Battler on that night.
The night of the evacuation. The night of the genocide.
Panic shot through my limbs and my nostrils flared. The trees seemed to grow and loom higher over my head. The minimal sounds around me grew fuzzy as my pounding heart thudded hard through my veins.
Calm is the mind, calm is the Spirit.
I could do this.
With another deep, belly-bursting breath, I focused my intention directly above my heart.
[Robervelox]
Magic seared to life beneath my pressed palm, fortifying my muscles and skin with a river of steady strength. The glyph burned coolly on my skin like I'd engraved it with liquid nitrogen. And I struck out. My strides were longer, more powerful, easily pushing me up the incline.
The now-weeping forests, dewing with mist, gave way to fanned shrubberies and whispering grasses. Trees were still present, the scaly barks were obscured by layered branching like a tapered skirt. This place, this dampness, was so alien.
Steepness underfoot slowed my pace and I kept track of the diffuse white light in the sky. It had aged to midday. My neck and chest began to really dew with sweat as I drew toward the summit, but my passage remained quick and relatively soundless.
Finally, a spike of unease drove suddenly into my consciousness.
I instinctively froze. The forest had grown deathly silent but for the tentative keening of insects and the occasional bird's warning call. Eyes narrowing, my fingers darted to the space behind one ear where I imbued a second glyph. I braced myself.
[Augeo Sensus]
An explosion of colors, smells and sounds washed over me. Everything gripped my five senses at once. I let the information flow in and settle. Let it become my new-normal.
The faint breeze trickled toward me, flushing my face and nostrils with the scent of lethal mint... and the rusty musk of fresh-blood. Terror skittered coldly through my veins and my heart picked up double-time. The metallic blood-scent thickened the slight breeze, nearly overpowering the mint. A fresh kill, perhaps.
The wind trembled through the leaves and wreathed my nose more thickly, flooding over my tongue and, to my horror, filling my mouth with saliva. I swallowed and gave my head a shake. Another sound cut into my awareness:
the suckling sound of the parasite feeding.
It hadn't noticed me. I steadied myself with that thought and imbued another spell.
[Aufero Odorem]
The scent of my body evaporated along with the trail I'd made up to this point. My next inhale was the scent of air without self. It made the other smells crisper.
Saliva continued to pool alarmingly in my mouth. Fear made my brain tremble. But these steps were protocol. Muscle memory. Even despite the tears that threatened to spring in my eyes, I could do this. In another swift movement, I raised my hand above my head, fingers splayed toward the sky.
[Luna vestis]
Quiet silver light descended upon my form to materialize on my body, exchanging that which I wore with ceremonial battle-garb. I flexed my arms and the concentric tattoos along their length glowed; brightened by the waning-gibbous moon. The mask that alighted and hid my face stirred a bittersweet anguish in my belly.
The whole outfit felt... heavier than it used to, somehow.
Calm is the mind, calm is the Spirit.
Legs bunched, I crept forward and surveyed the unexpected clearing. Just windward of me was a hunched form. Shaking radiating out into my limbs and the water I'd sucked down earlier threatened to rear up in the back of my throat. In the edges of my memory, feral snarls, desperate whines, and shrieks of terror replayed and slowly grew louder as an odd rushing sound filled even my enhanced ears. I'd just narrowly escaped annihilation at the hands of these creatures.
Could I really face one again so soon?
I took a low, crouched step backward-
A little whimper cut through my awareness; such a slight, weak sound. I honed my hearing and stared intently. The victim lay amid the tall grasses in front of the vampire, mostly obscured aside from a patch of pale flesh-colored... shoulder, perhaps? It was too chilly not to be wearing long-sleeves and yet this individual appeared naked. I gritted my teeth.
Hunger and lust often blended in a vampire's mind.
Anger flared in my chest, quelling my fear and driving me to my feet. The predator's head snapped about to the noise.
Act, I ordered myself.
Surging forward with enhanced strength and speed, I arrived upon him in a near-instant. He shot upright to face me, hands balled near his face, shock crashing over his expression.
And I recognized him: the copper-haired loner-male.
Sharp canines extended and mouth smeared with crimson, he steeled himself for my first attack like a boxer. Fingers clawed, I seized his extended forearm in an underhanded grip and twisted with supernatural strength about the elbow's axis. His upper body was forced to turn, his other fist forced away from me by proxy. The limb snapped, going limp at an awkward angle.
A pained hiss seethed through his teeth. He backed away in a short blur, but I tracked him easily. Blood-scent thickened in the air here. I could taste the iron-tang on my tongue as I moved to protect the victim.
The loner-male growled warningly, the sound low and feral like a cornered dog. It grated along his windpipe. He crouched down and backed away with little steps now, apprehensive of my pursuit.
Yes, I did still have the advantage here. He didn't know what I was. He couldn't know what I could do; few of his kind encountered mine and lived to talk about it. His hesitance would cost him.
"Luna volente," I began to chant, voice other-worldly as a pair of symmetric tattoos on my forearms glowed, spun, and expanded in silver light above my skin, "With a firm spirit and steady hand, may the Spirits guide my magic to grasp this creature's heart in my fingers!"
I readied my extended, upturned hand, and began to close it around absent-air. He shuddered, eyes widening; those strange, silver-burst irises flashing with terror as ghostly fingers simultaneously closed around his heart. His fists unclenched to claw wordlessly at his chest and a small, bittersweet smile twinged on my lips.
If only he could see it. I had half-a-mind to remove my mask.
Another whimper sounded nearby and my resolve swelled; kill the killer and potentially save the victim? The squeeze of fear on my brain alleviated, strengthening the slow close of my fingers. My gaze slipped sideways to view the human in the grass.
Except, it wasn't a human.
A fully-grown lynx lay dying in the grass, paws twitching, eyelids fluttering as it faded. My hand slackened. My concentration broke. And the glowing, spinning spell receded back upon my skin. Mason stumbled back into the grass in a surprised mess of limbs, panting in fear.
Why hadn't I noticed?
The scent wasn't human in the first place. That's why I'd salivated. But... vampires didn't feed from animals. Mason shifted and I tensed. He raised a hand, palm out, as if placating. A red smear of lynx-blood traced over his fingers. When I didn't move, he took a breath.
"We don't feed directly from humans."
I watched him, frozen.
"Animals help curb our appetite," he continued, voice wavering nervously as he watched me. "But we don't attack humans. It's why we have a different eye color: silver instead of red."
He didn't blink in order to let me inspect him. I did. That infuriating, silver sunburst was bright against dazzling green irises. I couldn't bring myself to respond, however. This was so outside the realm of what I'd come to know about the species. I was struck dumb. But another whimper snapped me back to reality.
Whatever he claimed, I had to confirm. I closed the last few steps between myself and the dying cat, circling to keep Mason firmly in my line of sight. It neglected to raise its head at my approach. It likely couldn't, weak as it was.
The panicked brown eyes showed white at the edges as it watched me anxiously. Kneeling by its head, I reached out toward its mouth and pushed up the lip to reveal long, white teeth and an expanse of bleached-white gums. One of its front paws twitched, but couldn't muster strength.
"You know you're dying," I whispered to it, horrified.
"What?" Mason asked.
My voice, clear to my own ears, was distorted gibberish to outsiders while the mask was in place. A good thing too. Mason hadn't taken the hint to make himself scarce.
"It's alright," I murmured to the lynx.
I moved in behind it, taking up the limp head and neck into my arms. I was vaguely aware that I'd put my back to Mason with this maneuver. And that was a terrible idea but... something about this was necessary.
I gripped then placed my knee firmly on the bend of the lynx's neck. With a last, quick breath, I pulled, twisted, and jerked all at once. And it was over.
"There you go," I murmured, closing the eyelids, "May Luna guide your way."
Sitting back on my heels, I struggled to take deep breaths. The predatory mint made me nauseous and dizzy, sapping away my desire to even stand up again. Where was this pathetic, juvenile sentiment coming from? I fisted my hands on my thighs where they were braced.
Calm is the mind, calm is the Spirit.
Breathing heavily, I leaned in, looking to the source of the lynx's bleeding. The tough fibers were matted with blood, but eventually I found the tell-tale marks: a set of six deep-set pricks right over the carotid artery of the animal.
Mason really had been feeding from it.
I glanced over my shoulder. He'd rolled onto his knees, crouched and tensed. And yet he hadn't run. His jaw was rigid, teeth clenched, eyes watching my every movement and I wondered if running had even occurred to him.
"Are we... alright?" he asked, voice low.
How on earth could I respond?
Vampires needed human blood! All our studies on captured specimens had demonstrated as much; the vampires wasted away like starved humans, like vegans without proper supplements. Was his kind a new breed? An adaptive mutation? No, he mentioned that they didn't feed directly from humans.
I narrowed my eyes, approaching. He shrunk back into the grass, teeth clenched and eyes wide. That infuriating silver-burst stretched around his dilated pupils, glinting fearfully as I inspected his face.
And I reached up to grasp my mask. To lift it from my face.
But something crashed distantly in the forest to the northeast, snapping my attention around. Immediately my hand dropped and I crouched across from Mason, listening intently. The incoming animal was large but still about a kilometer away.
A spare glance at Mason's startled expression told me all I needed to know: he didn't recognize this newcomer either.
"We should go," he hissed.
We?
I snorted, turning on my heel to head due-west. Raising my shoulders and clawing my fingers, I glared down at him once more in a clear 'don't follow me' posture and leaned into a sprint. The animal was nearly upon our clearing, moving as fast as one of my kin in full-Beast transformation. My heart leaped into my throat at that.
Without a second glance at Mason, I ran swiftly into the brush and out of the clearing.