Rancor: Vampyre Hunter (Rancor Chronicles) (10 page)

“
There is a code among the Wulfsign that commands us not to murder, unless we are challenged, or we catch our enemy in an act of evil. But I have found that if we truly wish to see evil, we need look no further than our own hearts.

“
Only ignorant people believe they can overcome evil by ignoring that sin which resides in themselves. For the only true difference between the evil that resides in another, and what is in ourselves, is that we have the power to change our hearts.

“
What mortals do not understand is that we are like them. There are those of us who let sin become predominant, but they do not outnumber those who let virtue triumph.

“
What separates us from mortals is our curse of eternal life on Earth.

“
And it is a curse.”

-Wulfsign

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

R
ellik sighed again, and wondered where to search next. He had started looking for Fred long before the noon bell. He had hoped to find him by now. Peering into the library, he finally saw the teen he sought inside, studying. Rellik turned away, reasoning that, since Fred was obviously busy, he shouldn’t disturb him. But Rellik turned back; he had to stay true to his task. There were, after all, no other options.

Fred had his long nose tucked neatly between the pages of the play Hamlet. He jerked when Rellik slammed a chair down from across the small table, but never lifted his head from the depth of his book. He held it as a shield between them.

Rellik sat but said nothing. He stared, his large brow low and tight. He tilted his head slightly forward. He listened to Fred’s heart race as he pulled the book down. The teen’s eyes widened.

Rellik sighed, the sudden exhaust of air sounding like a low growl . . . a low, menacing growl.

Fred opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. He gripped his book tighter as drool seeped from his mouth.

T
hat’s disgusting
, Rellik thought. He relaxed. He said aloud, trying to sound kindly, “I need your aid–” but his teeth remained locked in a snarl.

“Sure,” Fred said. His voice broke at soprano level, making a startling, bird-like chirp.

Rellik had the floor. He wondered what he should say. He wanted so much to tell this teen, to tell anyone, for that matter, everything about who he was. But what if Fred then viewed him as a creature and shunned him? Rellik wanted so much to believe there was just one person in this world able to look past the myths and see him for who he was.

And not for what they thought him to be.

Rancor, lying peacefully in the darkness, looked beside him, to where Ariana lay sound asleep. He wondered how much longer he could keep his secret of immortality from her, and what she would do once she learned the truth.

Rafgard’s clandestine lessons of the Wulfsign, and the religion that bound them, were going well. Every day Rancor learned more about living with the knowledge that he would never meet death. But tonight, when he had thought about what Ariana might do when she saw him transform–for someday she would mistakenly see it happen–he’d lost the ability to sleep. He knew she would leave him because of her mortal fear of the unknown.

Sighing sadly, he realized he could not blame her. His only hope was to stop the vampyre before she found out, so he could stop being the wulf. That way he could live with Ariana for her entire mortal life, without her ever seeing him in his canine form.

He rolled on his side and stroked Ariana’s long hair. He checked a laugh as he thought about Rafgard’s warning that he relied too much on physical brute strength; that he didn’t balance it enough with intellect. How Kendil would have begged to differ.

For days his tutor had pressured him to learn to write a journal. At first Rancor had scoffed at such foolishness. In the end he agreed, on the condition that Rafgard never pressure him again about the value of literacy. But philosophy, the discussion of values and morals–now that was a thing Rancor loved.

“’Tis not our powers that cause mortals to fear us,” his tutor had told him earlier that day, “for does the chameleon not imitate its surroundings? Does the bird not fly? And yet mortals respect their power as beauty.”

“What doy fear?” Rancor had asked, not looking away from the journal entry he had begun to write.

“Intellect, Rancor. They fear a beast that is unlike them, yet every bit as intelligent.”

“If it amn’t for our powers, we could ’ide as mortals.” Rancor liked to challenge his tutor. It gave him special pleasure whenever he stumped him.

“But there are those of us who are evil. Some who think that immortality gives them the right to be gods. You must never abuse your powers.”

“The vampyre is like that! Tell me ’ow to fight ’im.”

“Learn about your own kind. Learn about the Wulfsign, and the code you must follow. With power comes responsibility. We will speak no more. Write, Rancor. Write your thoughts in your journal. You have more knowledge than you give yourself credit for.”

The solemn look that befell his tutor brought Rancor back to where he lay in his bed beside Ariana. She smiled in her sleep, and just knowing how much she loved him brightened his dark thoughts. If she learned of his difference, she would have questions, for which he had no answers. But so long as the murders resumed in the hamlet he could not forsake his responsibility to become the werewulf. Only as the wulf did his hearing, night vision and perception heighten enough to win an advantage over the vampyre. Whoever that might be.

He prayed Ariana would understand when she learned of his difference. But it was much to expect, when he couldn’t accept it himself. At least he had Rafgard to teach him what it was to be immortal.

“Fred,” Rellik whispered, letting his emotions guide his words for the first time in centuries, “tell me what it is to feel human again.”

Some time later Rellik found Alexandria in the hallway just outside the cafeteria–with Shay. Her one hand rested on his chest, and the other rubbed his arm whenever he cracked a joke. Rellik wondered how Shay could dupe everyone into believing his act, but as his adversary slipped his arm playfully around Alexandria’s shoulders and tickled her nose, he wondered no more. It was that damn perfected charm. Shay had a natural gift for knowing what to wear and what to say. Hell, even his gentlemanly grooming made him appear trustworthy.

Rellik looked at himself. His entire wardrobe consisted of sweats and muscle shirts. He wondered why. Comfort, he told himself. But at least he could have shaved the two-day stubble from his square jaw, or cut his long hair to appear respectable. He turned from his task. But before walking away, he took one last look at Shay and Alexandria.

No!
Rellik thought, stopping in his tracks, as though he had come up against a spiritual wall.
There is still Ariana’s soul in her. Do not let her get away!

Taking a deep breath he marched to her, his fists clenched by his side.

“Good day, Rellik!” Shay said charmingly, as he took his arm away from around Alexandria. “I was just departing.” Then he looked at her and said, “I shall miss you so, my sweet.”

The vamp’s tone rang confidently, and his mockery sounded all too familiar. He kissed her hand. Rellik wondered what that devil was up to. Even as Shay walked away, he still kept within earshot of Rellik and Alix.

Alix relaxed as though she had come off a drug. When the numbness left, she had a sensation that she’d forgotten something important. But she hadn’t a clue what that something might be, and it did not matter right now. Rellik had come to speak with her, though he only stared at her with sad eyes. She opened her mouth to say something but stopped herself.

Not this time, she decided. She only offered back the leather jacket he had wrapped around her the previous night.

“Hello, Alexandria. I pray I am well met . . . I mean, uhm, nice day,” he stumbled, avoiding her eyes.

“It is a nice day, Rellik. I have a class right away.” Even as she spoke, Alix wondered why she wished to keep this conversation short.

“My apologies for delaying you. Perchance we can speak later.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Alix turned to walk away.

“The dance?” he suddenly asked, the question sounding harsh and forced.

A long pause followed his question. As Alix turned back to him, she answered, “What about it? Are you going?”

Rellik met her gaze, scanned the room and breathed hard. Rather abruptly he said, “Only if you should accompany me.”

“To the dance?” In a quiet voice she said, “I’ve already been asked by Shay.”

Rellik’s face burned. His muscles began to shake. In a flash he whipped on his sunglasses and growled:

“Then perchance you might save me a waltz.” Taking his jacket, he left.

Alix felt as though a truck had hit her.
What the heck was
that
all about?
she wondered, wishing to say much more to him. If only she knew what! At first the outsider had appeared to have interest in nothing but solitude, but now he’d done something that showed his heart, his feelings. Perhaps all he needed was more time?

But what would I give him more time
for
?
she thought.

Rellik stormed past Shay, but not before glaring into his eyes and replying telepathically, “You haven’t won yet.”

The vamp glared back. But Rellik had already broken the mind bond. He stormed toward Dead Man’s Alcove. He sensed not only Shay’s presence close behind, but also his wish to settle their last score.

After all, they had yet to gamble for the ultimate prize.

Once inside the alcove Shay grabbed Rellik’s left shoulder from behind. The Wulfsign pivoted, brought his left arm down on the vamp’s elbow joint. He twisted Shay’s arm and pinned him against the lockers. Rellik smiled.

Shay said, “Your training has served you well. But I have not challenged you.”

“Matter of interpretation. Like the challenge you gave me a thousand years ago,” Rellik growled, as he cautiously released him.

“My friend, from what I recall, you were the challenger. Therefore, according to your philosophy, I had every right to kill you–be thankful I did not.”

“I know the rules. I also know that vampyres don’t have to abide by them.” Rellik glared at his enemy, wishing he’d had this knowledge a millennium before.

Wishing he had known when Shay was setting him up for his games . . .

Rain poured as if to wipe evil from the face of the Earth. But neither Rancor nor Shay paid it any heed. There was hope in the rainbow’s shadow far on the horizon, and the field had to be worked. Rancor wiped his brow, stopped and looked at the merchant who sat beneath a parasol upon a patch of grass.

“Woy you working?” Rancor spat.

“‘Woy’? Sometimes it’s so hard to know what you are saying. I think you mean ‘why.’”

Rancor held back the impulse to throw dirt at the merchant. He hefted his hoe into the ground and set the ground for seeds. “Why ya noy working,” he growled, in his best attempt to imitate Shay’s accent.

“Because I am thinking. Do you never feel the need to set aside meaningless tasks to contemplate important matters?”

“Meaningless tasks? If we noy tend da field, woy not grow anything. If woy grow nothing, woy cannot pay our taxes. Noy pay our taxes, woy lose da land.”

“Are you telling me that you work the land to pay taxes, so that you can keep working the land? That seems quite stupid and meaningless.”

“Woy is stupid and meaningless?”

“If you do not have the land, you would not owe any taxes. Therefore, if you lost the land all you would really lose is the need to pay tax. There is more to life than taxes, Wulfsign.”

“Woy do ya call ma that?”

“What?”

“Wulfsign! Woy da ya noy call ma by ma given name?”

“I thought I was showing you respect by calling you by your clan’s name.”

“I doy appreciate it. Woy I appreciate is ya getting on with ya duties. Fetch ma water.”

“‘Fetch ma water’?” Shay fell into a bow. “T’would be ma honor; I am ya servant.”

“Woy da say it like da?”

“Say it like what? Master, just snap your fingers and I shall obey.”

“Ya getting on ma nerves.”

“And you shall do what about this?”

“Forgive ya this impudence. But should it continue, I shall send ya on ya way.”

“The hospitality is not yours to offer, nor is it yours to take away.”

“Da ’ome may be Ariana’s, but ’er ’eart is mine. I ask, she woy send ya on ya way.”

The merchant circled Rancor as he taunted, “Such a pity that a man of your stature would need a woman to cower behind. She will make good children. Perhaps it is mine she should bear. That way her bloodline will have real men. Men who know when a challenge is in order.”

“Do noy test me! Doy ya think ya can best me? I am Rancor the Wulfsign, o’ the clan Alsandair!”

“You are a drifter wandering without a clan. You, my friend, are less than nothing.”

Rancor ran at the merchant and grabbed his tunic. Throwing Shay to the ground, the Wulfsign spit upon him.

“Is that a challenge?” the merchant demanded.

“It is. Per’aps if I show ya woy it means ta fight an Alsandair, ya will know woy it means ta respect one!”

Rancor wondered why Shay stood before him with a smile from ear to ear. He had, after all, just walked into his death. Yet Rancor felt like a wooden soldier in a child’s game–swearing he heard Ansgar’s laugh in the drops of rain that fell upon him.

“Do you really believe you are more learned than
I
, you pitiful beast?” Shay said, mimicking words from an ancient past.