Pure Healing

He’s still following me. Crap.
Oh well, it’s not like I can lose him when he’s been trained for all this top-secret-shadowing stuff while I’m just a normal college student trying to get to class on time.
Hi, let me introduce myself. My name is Sophia Victoria St. James. A mouthful, I know. And rather hoity-toity sounding if you ask me. Brings to mind an Italian heiress or protagonist from a Jane Austen novel or something.
It’s hard to live up to. I don’t feel like a Sophia or a Victoria. I’m neither wise nor victorious, if my barelyaverage grades and constant losing battle with my wayward hair are any indication. So you wouldn’t have guessed that someone like me would have a twenty-four/seven bodyguard, right?
Yeah, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
Today is the first day of classes Freshman year at Harvard. Before you get the wrong idea – I don’t really know how I got into Harvard. It’s not like I’m one of those really smart or rich or famous kids who got in on their own merits or because of their parents’ money and influence.
I got into Harvard because I’m weird.
Eccentric, if you want to put a slightly more positive sheen on it. Eccentricity is almost synonymous with individuality, and we’re in the U.S. of A. Don’t we celebrate that stuff here? Apparently, Harvard appreciates applicants with my sort of rambling background (even though I can barely pass eighth grade algebra), and surprisingly, they thought that my application essay about vampires and the ultimate battle between Good and Evil was highly entertaining
– “indicative of an active imagination and a wellspring of creativity,” the admissions officer had written in my acceptance letter.
Go figure.
So here I am, terrified that someone will find out that I’m nowhere near as imaginative or as creative as other students enrolled, those who actually deserve to be here. And everyone puts all sorts of glorious titles on their résumés, like “President of Asian American Association,” “President of Alpha Beta Phi,” “President of Student Council” and so forth and so on. All very important sounding titles. Makes me feel like the future leaders of the world are collected on one campus in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
In contrast, all I can say is that I’m the Queen of the Vampires. Though I wisely left that out on my application. Well, actually I’m not the Queen of the Vampires, but if anyone asked, it’s easier to explain if I said that, except I’d have to kill them afterwards. Or more likely have my bodyguards do it. No one is supposed to know.
The truth is: I’m the Queen of the Pure Ones.
Why did I mislead you into thinking I was something snazzier like the Queen of the Vampires? Because there’s blood-sucking involved in this race that I rule, and whenever there’s blood-sucking, if you Google it, you get vampires.
Actually you don’t, you get “hematophagy,” but that’s beside the point. If you ask anyone on campus what’s the first thing that comes to mind…
Anyway
, the Pure Ones are not vampires. It’s an unforgivable insult to be called one. Matter of fact, we’re at war with the vampires. Hence my application essay about vampires and the battle between Good and Evil. It’s what I live every day, so I didn’t feel inspired to write about much else.
And here I am. At Harvard. Someone in the admissions office must be having a riot at my expense. Oh well. I’ll enjoy this ultra-expensive and exclusive education while I can.
Crap. I’ve been going the wrong way.
My first class in ancient Chinese history got moved to the Kennedy School of Government campus due to the remodeling in the East Asian Studies complex. I forgot about that. Now I’m going to be at least fifteen minutes late hauling ass across Harvard Square!
Ha, maybe I can ditch my tail through some nimble maneuvering…
Back to the Pure Ones. I don’t know much, but I do know the Cardinal Rule. It’s hard to miss. Basically, if a Pure One falls in love and has sex with anyone who isn’t their Eternal Mate, they die a slow, excruciating death within thirty days.
Kinda puts a damper on your sex life.
Finally! Made it to class. And the professor didn’t even notice my extreme tardiness because the lecture hall is overbooked. Who knew so many youngsters these days would be interested in ancient Chinese history. And my tail? Still there.
Of course he is. If there’s anyone more in need of a reprieve from the no-sex rule… just saying.
Val would probably turn me over his knee if he knew I’m thinking this. He’s “old school.”
Waaaayyy
old. I mean, with a name like Valerius Marcus Ambrosius, you’re pretty clued in he’s not from the twenty-first century.
But it’s more than that. He’s more reserved physically than anyone I know. Hates being touched. He never touches anyone and is very adroit at avoiding physical contact from others. Which is why his chosen weapon is the chained scythe. He’s unbeatable in distance combat. And pretty lethal in short distances too, for that matter.
Val is one of The Elite, the six warriors that compose my personal guard. They are the bravest, toughest, awesomest fighting machines of the Race. Word is that Val’s body count is the highest among the six. I guess that makes sense. He’s been around for at least a couple thousand years, his human origin dating to sometime in ancient Rome. No one knows the exact year, month and day, including himself.
Val is always in control. But I can see his selfrestraint cracking.
My Gift is the ability to see Pure souls as well as read the intentions of all living beings. Val’s intentions are kinda confusing, but they center around maintaining discipline and distance, especially whenever he encounters one of my inner council members, one of the Circlet – Rain.
Just Rain. One-word name, like Rhianna or Gisele.
Rain is the Pure Ones’ royal Healer. Before that she was (and is) the most powerful Healer of the Race. I personally recruited her from Hangzhou, China. When I was seven. So, okay, I had a little help from Ayelet, my Guardian. Don’t recall the details, but I do remember the very strong sense that Val’s first encounter with Rain was rather… explosive is not the right word.
Momentous. Game changing. So intense that the air around them whenever they’re in the same space together seems charged with electricity, singeing everyone within a five-yard radius.
Maybe I’m making it up. I’m continuously finetuning my Gift. Sometimes the feelings come to me in a garbled foreign language I can’t decipher. Val and Rain have known each other for ten years now (though they never seem to be in the same room together for any length of time). So you’d think they’ve gotten used to each other.
But lately, especially with the Rite on the horizon, I get the tingly sensations again (could also be due to the fact that vampires have escalated their murdering rampage or the fact that I ate some suspicious sushi last night before bed) – I feel –
Like the mother of all tsunamis is about to break.

Every muscle tensed as Valerius braced himself against an unseen force.
The soft tinkling of bells announced someone’s approach. A relatively tall, graceful woman garbed in a traditional-looking oriental dress emerged from the inner chamber where their hostess remained hidden from view. On her forehead, just below her hairline, was what appeared to be a tattooed plum flower. Around her anklet was a simple chain of small golden bells.
She was not the one.
Valerius released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and relaxed. Only slightly.
He stood back while the members of his convoy, Ayelet the Guardian and Sophia the new Queen, greeted the woman with deep customary bows, right hands pressed flat over their hearts. The woman returned the gesture, bending forward at a precise ninety degree angle from the waist, straightened from her bow and smiled welcomingly at Ayelet.
“Dear friend, it has been too long,” she said in a lilting, softly accented voice. She stretched her hands toward Ayelet, and the Guardian clasped them without hesitation.
“Wan’er, it is good to see you again,” Ayelet returned, giving the woman’s hands an affectionate squeeze. She turned to include Sophia and Valerius in their circle.
“May I introduce to you our Queen, Sophia Victoria St. James? Sophia, this is Wan’er of the Jade Lotus Society. Wan’er is handmaiden to our esteemed hostess, Rain.” Ayelet gently guided the seven-yearold Queen a few steps into the foreground as she made the official introductions.
Wan’er dipped deeply into an elegant curtsy on one knee, reserved only for their sovereign, right hand over heart. “My Queen,” she acknowledged with serene respect.
Sophia, who, up until a month ago, had been oblivious to this significant new role she was destined to take on, fidgeted a bit with the belt of her formal royal robes and glanced at Ayelet how to proceed.
Ayelet gave a nod of encouragement, and Sophia bent forward with small hands outstretched, gently lifted Wan’er by the elbows, gesturing for her to rise.
“Thank you, Wan’er of Jade Lotus, for your hospitality,” the child Queen said, stumbling ever so slightly over the words that took many hours to memorize.
Ayelet smiled with her eyes at her Ward and stepped back to introduce Valerius. “This is one of the Elite Guard, Valerius Marcus Ambrosius. He is our Protector in this journey.”
Wan’er and Valerius bowed to each other. Once straightened, Wan’er gazed up at Valerius with a subtle nod and slow blink. It was the unspoken acknowledgement that Valerius would go wherever the Queen went. No chamber would be closed to him, save one during the duration of their stay, even though, as a rule, the Jade Lotus Society did not allow males into their sanctuary.
The Society was founded by the incumbent Healer of the Race, Rain, over two thousand years ago as a sanctuary for women who struggled with the social confines of their time.
Women poets, scholars, musicians, women who didn’t want to marry into the traditional contract between families. Concubines who wanted to escape the intrigue and politics of the royal harem. Wives who wanted refuge from their abusive husbands. Women, in short, who sought better lives for themselves, who wanted to express their individuality and passions.
The Society was led by nine Pure-females , but its members were mostly human females. Over time, as Rain nurtured and honed her Gift of healing, the Society became known as a center for healing arts. It combined deep knowledge of ancient Chinese medicines and herbs with the studied practice of harnessing
qi
, one’s spiritual energy, to soothe, regulate and optimize health and wellbeing. Though the members were female only, men and women from far and wide, Pure Ones and human alike, traveled to the sanctuary to seek solutions for their ailments.
Patients were typically received on island pavilions above the underground sanctuary, whose main entrance was located beneath the Baochu Pagoda just north of the famous tourist hotspot, West Lake, on top of Precious Stone Hill. The sanctuary spanned several square miles of underground passageways, chambers and halls, some stretching directly beneath the West Lake itself, connecting to the islands dotting the surface of the lake through underwater tunnels.
As times changed, as the modern world opened new doors, members of the sanctuary mingled more easily with society at large. Instead of banding together as refugees and outcasts, they drew strength from one another for a common purpose – the mission of healing. The members were still female only, and they remained the only occupants of the hallowed sanctuary halls.
Today, however, was an exception. Not just because of the new Queen’s attendance, but because it was the first day of the decadal three-day Rite of the Phoenix that opened the sanctuary to unmated, qualified Pure-males from around the world.
At the end of the three days, Rain the Healer would select her Consort.
As Valerius also straightened from his bow, his jaw flexed involuntarily as he prepared to meet their hostess.
All Pure-males knew about the Rite of the Phoenix, and given their limited numbers, Valerius knew personally several past Consorts of the Healer, three of the Elite Guard for example. It was a position much revered and intensely vied for. Only the strongest, most disciplined Pure-males need apply. And it was the only exception, outside of Mating, to the Sacred Law of Celibacy.
For nine months during the year of the Rite, Puremales from far and wide gathered to present themselves before the Healer. They never met her unless they were chosen as the one of the final sextet.
The initial interviews were conducted by the Healer’s handmaiden while the Healer herself observed the proceedings, hidden from view. She would then give her handmaiden a jade ring or an onyx ring to extend to the applicant. Only six jade rings were given out. As the days of the Rite approached, the six chosen Pure-males would return to the sanctuary for the final selection.
Then there would be three days of Rites of Passage.
The first day tested the Pure-males’ strength and vitality. The second day tested their endurance for pain and ability to heal. The third day tested their sexual compatibility with the Healer. For ultimately, the chosen male would become her sole source of Nourishment for thirty days and provide the reserve she would need to carry out her role as the Pure Ones’ Healer for the next ten years.
At the end of these three days, one ring of Tiger’s Eye would be given to the Consort to wear over the course of his Service.
Valerius had never put himself in the applicant pool, though he knew his personal choice did his people a disservice. He was one of the most qualified Puremales in existence. Not only because he was one of the oldest and, through experience and combat training, one of the strongest, his very Gift was the ability to heal faster than any other Pure One.
Pure Ones healed ten times as fast as humans, a source of their eternal youth. Valerius healed thrice the rate of his fellow warrior-class males. The Nourishment he would be able to provide would be thrice as potent as any other male. The Healer could in turn harness that power to save many more lives, especially as the Pure Ones entered the critical new millennium.
But he could not bring himself to do it.
Although he knew without a doubt that he would best all other males during the first two Rites of Passage, he was equally confident he would fail the third and final test.
If he had a choice, he would have continued to avoid the Healer at all costs – better that she never knew he existed, so that his decision to abstain from the selection process would remain his own. But this journey was unavoidable, and he was the best choice as royal escort. He could not fail Sophia and Ayelet in his protection, nor could he fail the Healer when they brought her back with them on the return journey. He couldn’t countenance that level of selfishness.
Now, finally, he would meet her. The Healer.
Rain.
Wan’er guided them through a long, torch-lit hallway into the inner chamber of the Healer. Despite the lack of windows, as the sanctuary was deep underground, the passageway was brightly decorated with Chinese scrolls that depicted mountains, lakes, pagodas and exotic animals so real, they seemed to come to life beneath the flickering warmth of the torches.
Valerius paused briefly before a painting as the phoenix inside seemed to stretch its neck and turn its bright eyes toward him. His right hand went reflexively to the scythe handle at his waist as he peered more closely.
His eyes widened when he saw that the waterfall in the background was actually flowing, making a soundless splash into the lake beneath. He shook his head and looked again. The phoenix was facing away from him once more, looking into the distance. Perhaps he had imagined it all. But somehow he thought not.
The entrance to the inner chamber was an elaborate hexagonal opening, gilded with intricate designs that were carved out of the framing wood. It was about ten feet tall and twelve feet wide, and it led to a vast, but not cavernous, well-lit hall in which the centerpiece was a large raised dais shielded by semitransparent wispy silk curtains gathered together in a sort of tent around and over the area.
Valerius’ eyes were immediately drawn to the feminine outline behind the curtains.
Contrary to his training and protocol, he barely registered the surrounding area, the ornate yet elegant furniture, the walls covered entirely with natural scenery that looked just as real and alive as the scrolls in the outer passageway, the whimsical splattering of multi-colored round paper lanterns across the ceiling, giving the chamber a cheerful glow.
To his utter confusion and dismay, his heart doubled its tempo, and every nerve in his body became overwhelmingly sensitized. He suddenly felt drugged by the faint, elusive fragrance of lilies and jasmine, and in reaction, blood rushed to his groin, hardening him in an instant. His neck and face got what was left as he flushed deeply in mortification and anger at his total loss of discipline.
In his two thousand plus years of existence as a Pure One, he had never, never, lost control. Why his self-restraint deserted him now he couldn’t begin to fathom and didn’t have the luxury to even try, for he suddenly found himself not two feet before the Healer, sitting above him on the dais on a soft pedestal of pillows. He executed a bow by rote, as if his body had developed a mind of its own.
Valerius stopped short of raising his gaze to meet hers, however. He knew that keeping his eyes lowered was a sign of submission which he’d never before allowed in himself, no matter the odds he faced. But he swallowed his pride and locked his jaw, because somehow, somewhere deep within, he knew that meeting her gaze would change his world forever.
Instead, he peered through the filter of his lashes at the shape of her chin, and the enigmatic, fleeting smile that tilted the corners of her full, sensuous mouth.
“Warrior,” she greeted him softly, pausing a heavy beat after greeting Sophia and Ayelet.
When he continued to withhold his gaze, the corners of her lips tilted ever so slightly more, as if she were amused by his reticence.
But it wasn’t shyness that kept Valerius’ eyes lowered; it was self-preservation.
“Healer,” Ayelet began as Valerius backed away from the softly illuminated dais into the background shadows, “you know why we have come.”
It was not a question, but an understanding.
The woman on the dais dipped her head elegantly in acknowledgement, a small smile still hovering on her lips.
“Then you consent to come back to the Shield with us?” Ayelet tried to ascertain, referring to the Pure Ones’ home base, not a permanent location but the moniker for the place where the Queen and her inner circle resided at any given time.
The Healer shifted in her seat, raising a pale, slimfingered hand to brush aside a wisp of silk as she leaned in with her reply. But it was not Ayelet or the Queen she set her gaze upon, but the warrior’s tense, steely frame in the shadows behind them.
“Would it please you to have my consent?” She gently pushed the question toward Valerius, who tensed even more, if that were possible, at her query.
She could not see his eyes in the shadows, but she knew when he finally looked upon her. There was an instant recognition and a blast of energy radiating from his body toward her, so forceful she had momentary whiplash from the dazzling currents.
Interesting.
Ayelet, Sophia and Wan’er looked to and fro, surprised by the redirection in the conversation. Sophia, in particular, seemed dazed by the explosion of awareness between the Healer and the Protector. She blinked rapidly and squeezed her little brows together in concentration as if trying to decipher an unspoken exchange between the two.
What could he answer, Valerius thought grimly as time stretched between them in excruciating slowness and clarity.
Their troop of Chevaliers, a combination of Pure and human warriors who stood as the first line of defense against rising vampire Hordes and human menace, was rapidly dwindling in number, leaving the remaining few exhausted and weighed down by countless injuries new and old after each battle.
They needed the Healer in their midst, within reach. They needed her strength and comfort, needed her to heal and invigorate and give them hope. For the future of his people, for the humans and the world the Pure Ones protected, how could he say no?
But for himself, his peace of mind, his wildly-beating heart, and the inevitable, exquisite, punishing pain that he knew his future held with her in it, how could he say yes?
As he took in her ethereal visage with starving eyes, he realized that his time had run out.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took a deep breath and replied in a low, rumbling voice, raspy from the emotions he tried to contain:
“Aye.”
And without a backward glance, Valerius walked out of the chamber as fast as his long strides could carry him.
*** *** *** ***
“Aye,” he’d said.
It was the first and only word he’d uttered in her presence, Rain reflected. Though she’d never met the Protector, she was well aware of his reputation. With a couple thousand Pure-males in existence at any given time, and less than a fourth being of warriorclass, the Elite guard to which the Protector belonged was widely talked of, highly revered – even legendary. Rain had previously met each of the six members. Except the Protector. Never the Protector.
Two thousand years was a long time to evade her. Rain couldn’t help but feel that he did so by choice. Though she would never presume to question his motives, it still stung her pride to be so diligently avoided. So she satisfied her curiosity with the occasional news and tidbit about the Elite. From what she knew of Valerius, she’d expected to be impressed.