A Little Trip (story in progress)

Thanks, Brantley; that's the first time I've ever seen anyone ever mention that an info dump can be a good thing, but then they did mention it has to be done well.
It's food for thought; basically I have to give my readers more respect and not try to hold their hands.

Thanks

Yes... I like this version of the Intro. It doesn't feel like an info dump and you introduce both the world and characters.

I got great visuals off it, and I'm chuckling at the idea of magical spirits living inside all the machines now. Or as envision them, these tiny analog sentiences living on top of a digital machine layer.

I didn't think I was going to like that idea (software and hardware issues can be frustrating enough), but the more I read your spins on this story, the more it is growing on me. I suspect that we'll see them sometimes overriding a digital machine issue to satisfy the commands they were given.

So, this was an enjoyable read. It sparks many questions, and those are what I can look forward to seeing answered (or further complicated) going forward.

Nice...

The woman was breathtakingly beautiful. Tall and delicate, dressed in swathes of blue and white silk, her stunning features enhanced by the barest touch of eyeliner and elderberry lipstick, she turned her head slowly to observe the crowd, allowing her platinum blond hair to actually sparkle as the bright lights danced between the complicated waves and curls of her flowerlike braid.
Despite the intense atmosphere surrounding the podium, she showed no sign of fatigue, nor allowed one drop of sweat to mar her pale skin, despite the heat of the lights beating down upon her. Instead, she met the unflinching stares of 196 world leaders sitting in the UN’s General Assembly Hall with a baleful glare, and repeated her demand for their immediate, unconditional surrender to the Elf Kings of the WorldBridge seas.
From her position on the sofa, Christine Sanguina raised a slender hand to cover her yawn and flicked her fingers towards the blue ring on her television in a gesture that would change the channel to something more interesting.
Unfortunately for her, Ida, her roommate and friend of three years, had been the one to teach the television which channels were to be considered favourites, and what appeared were cartoon ponies. Christine watched one of them teleport from one side of the screen, wondering how a 21 year old could find entertainment in something so… unrealistic; surely even the children for which the show was intended knew that talking horses couldn’t use magic?
But there was no accounting for taste. Pressing finger to thumb, she clicked her fingers and the television obediently switched off, its fiery blue logo dimming to a pale ghost as it went to sleep.
Rising from the couch and brushing down her suede brown coat, she walked across the lounge the university had leased to her and Ida, and touched the music centre. Immediately, there was a brief whir as the magic of the silver disk unspun, and poured the sweet music of Midnight Garden into the apartment.
Swaying her head to the haunting guitar and soul deep pain of the lead singer, Christine allowed herself to become lost in the music, which was so similar to that of her homeland and yet… made different and exotic through the simple use of a stringed, rather than woodwind instrument. She felt the beat pulse through her, almost strong enough to make her heart pound again… and then her clamshell vibrated loudly on the low table.
With a deep sigh of regret, Christine forgot the music and plucked the brilliant silver oval from the table before it could fall and damage itself. The carpet had the kind of softness and depth that only wealth could afford, but after her father had mortgaged one thirtieth of his entire fief to pay for it, she was not prepared to take chances.
“Yes?” She impatiently flipped it open and hissed at the tiny blue figure which appeared to be floating in a lotus position between the two mirrors within.
“I’m sorry mistress,” The minute glowing face flinched away from her irritated tone, “but you asked to be reminded of the time?”
“Yes, yes, very well.” Christine nodded, snapping the silvered mirror closed with a snap and casting a glance towards the wall clock, which, even after three years, she found unnatural thin considering – and she had checked – it had not a single cog nor gear.
Tilting her head, Christine directed her sharp senses towards the hall beyond the apartment door. Sure enough, she heard the familiar creak, and sound of masculine breathing ascending the stairs.
“Move with haste, Ida!” Christine called to her roommate, “He will be here shortly!”
Above the haunting strains of New Moon Melancholy, there was a metallic clunk as Ida dropped something on her room’s floor. “I will be but a moment, Christine,” was the low, slightly lisped response.
“As will he!” Christine called out, tilting her head slightly so that her twitching ears could better detect the familiar creak of wood of the dorm’s stairwell. Turning sharply, she was half a step from violating the sanctity of her friend’s room, when the door finally eased open, and her dusky roommate appeared.
Like Christine, Ida’s features were sharp, almost pointed and while she would be scarcely five feet tall, were it not for the 4 inch heels, it was hard to miss her in a room; she moved with a predatory grace that drew the eye. However, Christine was immune to the show of dominance and merely crossed her arms, awaiting an explanation. If she’d been able, she would have tapped her foot.
Ida’s eyes narrowed marginally as she appraised her friend, calculating the best possible excuse.
“I just didn’t know what to wear.” She shrugged pitifully. Like most people in their circle, she favoured dark colours and what had been called gothic a generation ago, and was now merely called Onyxican; black predominated, although she eschewed the more traditional leather corset in favour of a low cut silk bodice with mauve lace ribbon and stitched obsidian rune fractals. Christine preferred more colour herself, having elected to wear a light brown tail coat, open at the bust and embellished with brass buttons. Together with a broad belt and a black skirt, she felt the beautifully soft suede complimented her light hair and further enhanced the look with a chain of emeralds that dripped down between her breasts.
Before she could challenge Ida however, the other girl turned swiftly away, causing the long beaded the tassels on her sleeves to click violently. “I thought you said that the boy was nearly here?” She said, her tone full of mild reproach as she sashayed towards the sofa, dropping her bags onto the decadently thick rug.
As Christine opened her mouth to answer, three firm, yet polite knocks sounded, drawing the attention of both females. After a courteous three second wait, their ears twitched at the rattle of keys and a tall male in his late teens entered. He was lean, but not muscled, his physique concealed beneath a signature long brown leather coat. Though it was double breasted, the teenager had left it unbuttoned to reveal a t-shirt which bore the somewhat faded ensign, ‘Gygax was Right’.
The young man didn’t wear glasses, but gave the impression he should; his brown hair was short, and naturally curly, but framed a face that wanted to be friends with the world. He would never be called handsome, Christine conceded, but he was certainly cute.
“Chase…” Ida leaned forward, her tongue practically caressing her teeth, tasting the boy’s name.
Chase froze, his hand halfway to pocketing his keys. To his credit, he did not take the opportunity to ogle her milk white charms as she arched enticingly and stood, nor did he stare at either of their outlandish outfits. Most important of all, he did not turn and run. He just stood there, and tried not to look edible as the two vampires moved towards him.
“Uh… hi; I did knock, ladies?” He said, looking between them, while being careful not to make any sudden moves.
Neither vampire said anything as they stalked the mortal boy. He couldn’t know it, but he had timed his entrance poorly; the haunting melody now filling the apartment might have been timed to match his racing heart. Every beat was a thundering drum to intoxicate their senses.
Christine never took her eyes off him. His appearance was nothing special, but she could feel her movements becoming looser, more seductive as his scent filled the small room. Her teeth tingled as she saw the briefest glimpse of alarm on his face, and forced herself to stop a few paces short of him with the sharp reminder that Chase was not prey. He was one of her oldest friends!
And yet he smelt so good…
Despite herself, her nostrils dilated and she inhaled more of his rich, human, aroma. Chase couldn’t help it of course, and he was doing everything right; he was giving them time to adjust to his presence, not making any sudden movements or showing overt signs of fear. He might have learned it from the textbooks that had become part of every school’s curriculum, if he hadn’t learned the hard way, from her.
Forcing herself to turn around, she pretended to busy herself with the sound system; distracting herself from her mortal friend’s scent by methodically disconnecting the Sony machine and finally putting an end to the music’s temptation.
Chase watched her quick, deliberate motions and felt his racing heart slowing as the moment of danger passed. Contrary to fiction written prior to the soul storms, vampires could only pass for human in a very dark room. Their features were delicate, their ears came to points, their eyes were fathomless dark pools surrounded by the barest sliver of bone white sclera and their movements fast. Combined with their petite stature, Chase had once jested that they were more elven than elves. Ida had taken offence to the comparison, since she associated all of elven kind with the lotus eating gracelings of the Silver Cities near her home, but Christine, who’d spent several more years on Earth than her roommate, had seen the humour and quipped that a Drow would be a better comparison, given that Vampires could appear as dark as midnight when light wasn’t falling on them, her ivory white hair not withstanding.
However, while Christine was trying to ignore the fact that Chase was alone and would be hopelessly vulnerable if she could just entice him away from the door, from the corner of her eye, she noted that her roommate was sizing him like a tigress might look at a lamb who had bounced into her lair. “You smell wonderful today, Chase,” She purred as she seductively twirled one lock of her midnight dark hair around her finger.
Fortunately for Chase, the languid smile on her face said that she had decided to make an exception for this, single, lost lamb and would allow it to roam free… for now.
Unfortunately, even without intent, Ida’s teasing was triggering Christine’s own instincts and she found herself running her tongue over her lips, making them glisten in the room’s low light.
Without allowing her annoyance to show on her face, Christine resolved to have words with Ida, again. Somehow she had never truly embraced the rules of this strange, human dominated world; even if Chase were not protected as her friend, it was impolite to remind humans that they were food. Even back across the faeline, humans could be dangerous in groups, and on Earth, the magic of firearms meant too many Kin had found themselves bathed in the most precious blood of all; their own.
Not that Chase would ever do such a thing. He was kind… or naïve; unlike most humans, he refused to wear any kind of vampiric wards, not even a poultice of Kinside Satvium, for fear of offending her. So far, she’d been unable to think of a way to tell him the acidic aroma would also make him smell far less appetising. Instead she had convinced him to carry a glass ampule of her blood in the hope that the scent would remind any supernatural attackers of the kind of vengeance that would befall them should he come to harm.
Why was she thinking of his safety? Ivory eyebrows met as she scented the air again, and then she caught it; like a single pure note in a thunderstorm. Chase had been clever, using surgical spirits, water, and a thick layer of the perfume males called deodorant, but he should have known better than to think he could drown out the delicious scent of his blood.
“You are injured.” She stated, setting the speaker down with a loud click on the Brazilian hardwood.
Chase immediately looked guilty.
“Oh…?” Ida whispered, making the mortal boy jump as she appeared beside him, “Did you cut yourself shaving, Chase?” She ran one cold finger down his jugular. “Would you like me to lick it clean?”
“This was not an injury of his doing,” Christine stated, meticulously looking him up and down, giving Vampiric instincts usually reserved for spotting weaknesses in prey, free reign to find the injury he was hiding from her.
Christine’s dark eyes immediately went to the way he was holding his arm at a slight angle, his hand closed into an almost fist, palm towards her. Finally given a pretext, she leaned in as close as Ida and inhaled deeply, gorging herself his scent. He tried to move away from the two Vampires, towards the door, but she caught and held him despite his struggle, tracing the seam of his jacket for the source of the injury, finally turning his hand over to reveal an adhesive bandage over his knuckles.
Chase shivered as her lacquered nails plucked gently at the plaster, perhaps because her undead flesh was ten degrees cooler than his own mortal skin, or perhaps because he knew she was wrestling with the impulse to suck his knuckles.
Reason won over instinct when she reminded herself that the long dead blood would be useless, “You have been bullied, again.” She murmured, her long fangs clicking as she cradled his injured hand.
Chase merely shrugged and tried again to pull his hand back without success; her grip was soft, but as strong as stone. “I… ran into a locker door.”
Christine turned his hand over and pointedly examined the bruise on his palm, but it was Ida who commented. “It would appear that, having not learned from the first experience, you did so a second time?”
Chase rolled his eyes, “Ok; someone bumped into the locked door when I was reaching inside. Happy?”
Christine’s oil black eyes told him she was not. Releasing his hand so she was not further tempted by the smell, she grumbled. “We are in university now, Chase; you should report these youths and have them expelled.”
“No!” Chase shook his head, briefly turning as pale as her, “It’s not like that; some guys just got a little careless, that’s all.”
“They were ‘careless’ last week as well,” Ida cocked her head curiously, an evil smirk on her face as she draped a sinuous arm around his waist. “Tell us their names,” Her voice was playful as she seductively ran her fingers down his suddenly stiff spine. “I would be delighted to serve justice on your behalf…”
“That’s… really not necessary.” Chase jumped as her hand brushed his lower back.
“Oh but it is,” Christine disagreed, her tone low and dangerous. “You are a scholar, Chase; it is understandable that you would be hesitant to confront these mortals directly, but-.”
“You think I should ask for help.” Chase interrupted and Christine blinked, not understanding the sudden sourness in his tone; she had merely spoken the truth.
“Why ask when it is being offered?” Ida chuckled, distracting Chase by leaning against him until his arm was trapped against her chest. “All you need to do is say a name; we will do the rest...”
Chase squirmed. He wasn’t… unfamiliar with female company, but Ida’s aggressive caresses were making him as uncomfortable as the subject at hand. Reading his distress with ease, her smile transformed from seductress to confidant as she assured him in a low whisper, “There would be no question of compensation for this service.” She worried a button on his coat. “It would be a mere…‘favour.’”
Her grin did nothing to reassure him, and Chase’s mind raced. On the one hand he didn’t want to owe a favour to Ida, as he knew her well enough to guess that if he accepted her help once, she would find ways of obliging him to do so again and again, until she decided he was indebted enough to ask for a ‘favour’ of her own.
On the other hand, he could too easily imagine what kind of help was being offered; Vampires had a distinctly black and white morality and Christine in particular, was very protective of those close to her; a fact that had been underscored when one of her friends had been raped, and a week later a man turned with broken kneecaps. She’d never admitted anything, but there had been a particularly satisfied smile on Christine’s face when she remarked on the irony of someone studying physiotherapy having to complete his course in a wheelchair. Now, seeing his hesitation she quickly said, with a sidelong glare at Ida, “I would not deem it a favour; it would a pleasure.” And her lips parted to reveal glistening fangs.
If anything her offer worried him more than Ida’s, since it would be so easy to accept. “…No, thank you.” Chase shook his head politely.
Christine looked genuinely confused. “Why not?”
“A man has got to face his own battles.” He shrugged.
“That is a very outmoded attitude,” Christine waved her finger under his nose. “You are not a warrior.”
“Thanks; I needed the boost in confidence.”
Christine merely looked confused again; sarcasm was not a Vampiric skill, so she tried another tack,. Squeezing his uninjured hand in hers and saying in a small voice, “You would not hesitate to call upon our aid if they were lycanthropes.”
“If it were werewolves, I could call the police!” He shot back.
Christine had to concede that point; the mortal authorities took crimes between species very seriously.
Christine exchanged a look with Ida. It would be a stretch to say the other girl considered the mortal a friend but she was certainly fond of him… even if it was as merely a step above a pet.
<“He is being foolish.”> Christine threw up her hands and stalked towards the sofa, growling in Darbanzaalak, one of the Vampire languages.
<”He is mortal,”> Ida replied, reluctantly letting go of her prize and following her. <“They are like that.”>
Christine shook her head. Humans were many things - naive, ignorant, and arrogant, to name but a few - but they were not foolish… most of the time. Were that the case then Europe would have fallen to Kinsider armies 12 years ago
“Uh guys,” Chase lifted his hand, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. “I don’t speak Darbanzaalak, remember? We talked about this.”
He looked pleadingly at the two stunning young women but they ignored him as they exchanged words in their native tongue. It was surprisingly guttural, even bestial, for a species that rated elegance almost as important as High Elves. Chase had tried to learn it when he’d reconnected with Christine, only to find he literally didn’t have it in him; Vampires couldn’t retract their teeth, which lent a literally inhuman sibilance to their words.
“Ladies,” He repeated, louder this time.
“Very well.” Christine said, reluctantly returning to English. “We will delay retribution for now, however you must remind these boys that they are merely mortal. Accidents will befall them if they do not treat you with more respect.” There was a finality to their words that made Chase think he was not hearing a threat, so much as the passing of a sentence.
Chase felt a cold shiver run up his back and tried to come up with a clever way of telling the women why it would be a bad idea for them to avenge themselves on his behalf. Obviously they saw his permission as irrelevant, but that was hardly a surprise; whether they were elves, angels or Vampires, all immortals were arrogant. They couldn’t help it; it was in their nature because, in their world, they were at the top of the food chain. But they were also oddly possessive of their friends. As in, Chase knew that Christine liked him so much she considered him to be some kind of property, and any attack on him, was some weird slight against her.
Yet, despite the fact that it’d been fifteen years since the first soul storms deposited Elves, Fairies, and other Kinsiders on Earth, Vampires like Christine and Ida hadn’t entirely grasped the fact that humans were Earth’s dominant life form.
He tried to think how to put that into words that wouldn’t offend their apex predator sensibilities, but vampires didn’t breathe, their hearts didn’t beat and they very rarely blinked; their unbroken stares were putting him off. Lost for ideas, he resorted to the blunt truth. “But if you do anything, you will be the ones who have to answer to the police.”
Ida brushed his cheek, renewing that shiver as her undead flesh caused Goosebumps to rise, “You should not worry about such things. We have ways around such inconveniences.”
“And dead men, tell no tales.” Christine muttered, darkly.
“You will not kill them!” Chase barked, suddenly turning on her.
“…Figuratively speaking.” Christine flushed, looking unusually contrite in face of his outburst.
Seeing the change in her expression, Chase felt a stab of guilt. Being a Vampire did not make Christine a monster; there were downright psychopathic Vampires, but then there were human cannibals. That didn’t mean he made long pork sandwiches. Going over to her, he gently grasped her pale arms, just above the elbows, and looked into her deep, dark eyes. “I’m just worried for you,” he apologised. “I can handle this. I promise. But if you two start hurting people, you’re going to end up in jail.”
“Your concern for our wellbeing is touching, Chase Carver.” Ida said, unnecessarily brushing against him as she slunk back to her chaise longue. “But you underestimate us. Physical altercations are so… unnecessary. And no one can arrest a flower pot.”
For half a second, Chase was lost in the slow sway of her hips, only to recover himself and feel confused. Was she being literal, and if so, what did that mean, or was there some metaphorical, Vampire/Kinside humour he was missing here?
He was distracted from those thoughts by Christine pressing her palms to either side of his face, turning him to face her. “Ida is right. Do not worry. And besides, I am sure that those reprobates will see sense and leave you alone… if you explain matters in the correct manner.” She smiled, again flashing her fangs.
Chase nodded, resigned to the fact that Christine, who had grown up the daughter of a powerful Lord, knowing that her birth and species meant mortals would treat her suggestions as orders, would never understand how different that warning would sound coming from his lips.
Seeking to redirect the conversation into less criminal lines, he coughed and awkwardly reached into one his jacket pockets. “Uh… I almost forgot; I wanted to give you this before we left.”
Christine watched him with open eyes, curious as to what his coat would reveal this time; knowing Chase, it might be anything. Ida had joked his jacket must have been made from a bag of holding, as he always seemed to have whatever he needed at the moment. On this occasion, it was… she clasped her hands with sudden excitement as she saw a flash of silver.
“Chase… did you,” She paused and forced herself to speak slower, though it was all she could do not to snatch the polished disk from his fingers. “Is this… Midnight Garden?”
Chase’s eyes flicked briefly to the now silent, and mostly dismantled, sound system before placing it in her hands, amused at the way she cradled it like a holy relic. “Uh huh, I figured, since we’re going to be Kinside for a few weeks, you’d need something to listen to? I also got some ANM48, and Pixie Glitter, oh, and some Oasis; the songs you like anyway.”
Christine gazed at him in wonder. In her opinion, of all the human magics, ‘seedees’ were the most marvellous; for a tiny fraction of the cost of hiring a bard, the tiny silver plates could somehow sing with a dozen different voices for hours on end. It was a mystery how the words could emerge with such perfect clarity, but she surmised that it had something to do with the metal; silver, particularly when in such obvious purity, was an excellent magical capacitor and must somehow ‘catch’ sounds in the tiny holes Chase had mentioned.
…Or such was her understanding at any rate. She knew it was an incomplete explanation, but it made sense to her and so long as the sounds fell out when she pressed the button, she didn’t really care for the details.
For his part, Chase thought she was about to about to kiss him; she’d been talking about Midnight Garden’s latest album for weeks, worried that their trip to her homeland might cause them to miss its debut. Instead, he flinched as she flung her arms around him in a pint sized bear hug. Not that he minded being embraced by such a pretty girl; ordinarily he would have enjoyed it, but after Ida’s display, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with her teeth being so close to his neck.
But Christine made no sudden lunge for his jugular, being content to merely bury her pale head in his chest. “Thank you, Chase,” she smiled up at him, digging her sharp chin into his t-shirt as she spoke. “My friends will be most jealous; so far they have only heard of seedees from my letters.” Dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, she added, “And frankly, they have not believed half of what I said; this will be a true experience for them.”
Feeling a little foolish, Chase tried to shrug off her praise. “It was no big deal.”
“Were that true; I would be able to cast myself upon the electronic sea. Instead of having to rely upon the charity of passing captains.” Christine said, releasing him and walking to the pile of bags, tossing aside several large clothes bags to reveal a studded orange case decorated in brass moths, inside of which was a hardened CD wallet .
Chase tried not to let his embarrassment show, in part because he wasn’t sure if his undead friend truly believed what she’d just said. All Kinsiders spoke in florid prose, but he’d once made the mistake of describing the electron sea and got the impression she’d taken him literally.
“And you obtained this music through entirely legal avenues?” Ida interrupted his musing, her eyes studying him with mild curiosity. “I have heard that many items that wash up on the internet’s shores are from wrecked galleons.”
It took Chase a moment to translate that. “Not every geek wears an eye patch and hoists the Jolly Rodger,” He quipped, hesitating as his mind raced. “I obtained these um, wares, through… fair trading on a warm southerly breeze and have the receipts to prove honest dealings.”
Ida’s expression told him he’d scored a very minor point. “I dare say you do. I would ask to see your ship, but I suspect it must be very, very small.” A smile tugged the edges of her mauve lips, “After all, I have seen these internetworked wires and no mundane vessel could navigate them.”
Chase knew he was being mocked, but there was no malice in her words. “I would, but I fear that your presence would capsize us both.”
“Fair point; I will have to resign myself to merely benefiting from the bounty of your expeditions.” Ida yawned, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth.
He took the hint; like many Kinsiders, Ida was content to discuss electronics in the abstract, but quickly bored of the subject. Chase imagined he might have a similar reaction if he lived in a world without fire, and someone insisted on talking about cake.
Although that wasn’t an accurate metaphor; at least he could learn how to make fire. Computers simply didn’t work for Kinsiders… although no one, not even someone studying computer science like Chase, could explain why.
He shook his head, then glanced at the two vampires, one of whom dressed like a nightmare Lolita, the other like she’d just stepped off of an airship and was humming the latest tune from a soul-pop band while she reverentially secured a CD in something that looked like a 16th century treasure box.
Briefly, he wondered what people 15 years ago had thought the future might bring; mobiles were a good guess, but would they have imagined one in the hand of an elf, as she used it to ask a Dryad in Van Vigyan Kendra how hydroponics might help regenerate an enchanted forest? It was a good bet they wouldn’t have imagined fairies bartering dream derivatives on the London Stock Exchange, or that the BBC would report RAF interdiction strikes on dragon hatcheries.
There was no other word for it; the world was mad, and as each day passed, and more magic seeped through across the faeline, it was only getting worse.
Then he thought about how his phone was paired with a genie, that a 3,000 year old angel kept the university library in order, and remembered the party the engineering students had had after inserting the shem in the world’s first Windows compatible golem. He smiled; as far as he was concerned, the world could stand to get a great deal more mad.
Speaking of which, he glanced questioningly at Christine and Ida’s massive Samsung flatscreen. Trying to pitch his voice in an unconcerned a tone as possible, he cocked his head and asked, “Uh… by any chance did you catch what that ambassador from the Worldbridge Kingdoms said to the UN today?”
Christine flashed Ida an ‘I told you so’ smirk, to which the other vampires responded by crossing her arms in indifference.
Folding her hands behind her back, Christine turned to face her friend and in a tone of pure innocence, asked, “Why do you want to know?”
“Oh… no reason.” He flushed a little and scratched the back of his neck, before awkwardly realising what he was doing and shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “High Elves are just… pretty, you know? Plus, she’s meant to be, like, 12,000 years old.”
This time Ida couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Chase, if every elf who claimed to be truly ancient actually was, you’d think the species was sterile. They think it impresses you mortals if they say they’re X-thousand years old.”
“…But it does.” Chase, aged 21, told her, earning another roll of her eyes.
Ida cast her eyes towards the TV and extended her arm, causing the pale blue logo to flicker as the genie that lived within it stirred. A click of her fingers awoke it, and a terse command – too terse in Chase’s opinion; genie’s weren’t sentient, but they weren’t stupid either – caused it to rewind to a shot of the Elf ambassador’s stern face. Her ears twitched as Chases’ heartbeat doubled and she turned away to hide her smirk, knowing it was not the Elf’s pale blonde hair, nor the sculpted perfection of her face that caused his reaction, but the delicate points of her ears. Putting thoughts of the mortal’s blood out of her mind, she focussed on the Elf’s stern, frozen image in detail, “…She is 500, at the very most.”
“How can you tell?” Chase frowned, momentarily forgetting his customary caution and stepped closer to the television, peering at the elf as if expecting to see the woman wearing her age on a necklace.
“Her eyes; they are the same as my mother’s.”
Chase looked at the television, glanced back to her and then to the screen again, trying to find any semblance between the Elf’s clear blue orbs and the infinite dark depths of hers. So far as he could tell, the only similarity was their sense of superiority. “You’re sure?” He started to ask, but when she met him with her unblinking stare, he backed down with a soft, “…You’re sure.”
However his retreat lasted only as long as it took for him to glance back to the screen. Although he was disappointed to learn the ambassador was only a 24th of her claimed age, he was nonetheless still fascinated. Like every other High Elf he’d seen, the Ambassador wore silk robes, though of a heavier grade than usual; no doubt a fashion that had evolved in response to the deep deserts that surrounded the world bridge. He briefly wondered if she was hot under all those layers, but of course, she was an elf; she would die before revealing discomfort to mere humans.
On Christine and Ida’s high definition screen, he could see every petal on each of the hundreds of hand embroidered flowers spilling over her shoulders and down her chest. The craftsmanship was amazing, even for elves, and Chase briefly wondered if she’d had them magically enhanced. It was possible but magic was expensive… to impregnate an entire outfit with a permanent high quality glamour would cost, he couldn’t even guess; easily more than his father made in a couple of years, but given where she came from, that , it wouldn’t surprise him.
“Did you happen to hear what she had to say?” He asked as casually as he dared, reluctantly turning back to face the Vampires.
Christine arched her eyebrows, a glint of mischief in her eyes, “You mean you don’t know? Were you not following her speech from your room?”
Chase looked a little pained. “I’m not that much of a Kin fanboy, Christine; I was packing.”
“Really?” The petite, grey skinned Vampire crossed her arms. “And, to cite one example… would you care to remind me how many dragon’s teeth you’ve bought?”
Chase rubbed his neck, breaking eye contact with her. “I have to replace them, you know? Spartoi only live a few months.”
“They’d last longer if you didn’t keep putting them together; they are highly territorial.”
Chase merely shrugged. “It’s not like I give them weapons.” When her expression didn’t change, he replied defensively. “They’re just plants; they aren't sentient! Anyway, we’re getting off the subject.” He shook his head quickly and since the TV didn’t know him well enough to switch off, moved towards the small mountain of bags piled in the middle of the room. “If you didn’t watch the broadcast, I understand; I was just curious, that’s all.”
Taking pity on her friend, Christine sighed and placed a hand on his chest as he passed her, stopping him in his tracks. “If you must known, I watched for five minutes; during that time, the Ambassador extolled the beauty of her lands, the nobility of her people, the strength of her nation’s army and the necessity for humanity to abase itself before her, lest the nations she represents be forced to unleash that strength upon you.”
“Oh. Really?”Chase answered, sounding more disappointed than a member of a species whose freedom had just been threatened by the most powerful Kinsider confederation yet discovered.
Ida’s reaction was far less sympathetic. “Is she serious? Did they not learn from the last two armies who tried to force their way across the Faeline?” She snorted derisively.
Christine smirked, “Am I to assume you do not take their threat seriously, Ida? The Ambassador did make a point of stating that they had ‘at least’ 90,000 archers to deploy as skirmishers.”
That fact was sufficiently impressive to make Ida’s eyebrows arch a little; as on Earth, at least before they were rendered obsolete, skirmishers were the weakest part of an army. If that held true for the Kingdoms surrounding the World Bridge, then their armies could be… significant.
There was only one response to a thought like that. “When I see my mother, I really must recommend that she purchase shares in Heckler and Koch.”
Christine’s eyebrow rose slowly in response to the non-sequitur, and then her mouth curled into a impish grin, “Heckler and Koch?”
“I suspect that they will be doing good business shortly.” Ida responded, her own expression equally devilish.
“True…” Christine sucked on the word,the smile playing over her face, “and that would certainly be a worthwhile strategy, but Heckler and Koch are not a publicly traded company. I think you would have more success with Airbus group; they manufacture helicopters.”
“Ahh,” Ida’s eyes lit up. Helicopters held a unique wonder in the hearts of many Kinsiders. “Very good; thank you.”
Chase’s mouth fell open as he observed the flippant exchange. Finally he couldn’t hold himself back from saying, “Isn’t that a little cold!”
Still amused, Ida turned her black eyes to him and cocked her head, before smiling so he could see her fangs. “We are room temperature.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Chase replied, for once not intimidated by her show of teeth. “You’re talking about 90,000 people.”
Ida’s smile grew as she saw the fire in his eyes; it always amused her when mortals challenged her. Cocking her head in deeper thought, she remembered her earlier thought and corrected him. “It is more likely to be three hundred thousand, or even half a million, and those elves,” she emphasised the difference, “just threatened your people with enslavement. My question to you would be why you are concerned for their welfare?”
“Because they don’t know any better!” Chase said, his voice actually raising as his emotions peaked. “It will be a slaughter.”
Christine sighed, pity for her friend tempering her tone as she tried to explain, “Do not allow your… ‘enthusiasm’ for Kinsiders to blind your judgement, Chase; Ida is right. I heard the Ambassador’s voice; this is no idle boast. The Kingdoms believe they are strong so they will attack if their demands are not met.”
“And then they will discover,” Ida chuckled darkly, “that even dragon scales are little defence against armour piercing bullets, elf eyes cannot match night vision goggles, and wyverns…” She paused to give Christine a grateful nod, “are no match for helicopters.”
“But it’s so wasteful.” Chase snarled. “All those elves…”
“They are not like the ones on campus.” Christine moved closer to him, placing her cold hand to his shoulder, her eyes intent as she tried to convince him. “Do not think of them as Elves; until they prove themselves otherwise, they are your enemies.”
Chase did not look convinced and Christine had to try very, very hard not to roll her eyes in exasperation. Chase was bright, well informed and his knowledge of computers secretly scared her, but if he had one flaw, it was that he saw everyone; human, neko, vampire or elf, as a person. That would not be a bad thing, if he didn’t assume the feeling would be reciprocated.
That was going to be a problem if he didn’t ground himself in the next day or so.
“…Hopefully it will not come to war.” She temporised. “Earth has become very good at convincing Kinsiders how futile it would be to try and cross the faeline with an army.”
Chase hardly appeared modified, “I don’t understand why it’s an issue. Ida is right; the last two times Kinsiders tried to attack, it was a disaster. Why would the World Bridge Kingdoms think they can succeed?”
Ida looked nonplussed, as if he’d asked why 2+2=4. “…Because they think they are stronger than you?” She echoed Christine’s earlier statement, a confused frown marring her inhumanly beautiful features.
“But how can they; doesn’t word spread?” He looked between them, exasperated. “The first time Eves tried to invade Europe, they were defeated in one hour.”
Ida just shrugged. “If you heard that bunny rabbits formed up and conquered the United States, would you believe it?”
Christine shot her a look for the impolitic comparison and spoke quickly, not wishing for the discussion to become an argument. “Do not forget that our realm is several times larger than Earth,” She interposed herself between them, fast enough that she heard Chase gasp in surprise, “and communication significantly slower. Even with bees, you only discovered the Kingdoms seven years ago.”
Chase started to retort, then paused, his forehead furrowing as he repeated, “Bees?”
“Uh…” Lost for words, Christine bit her lip, “The genie controlled flying machines?”
“You mean drones; GPAV’s?” Recognition flashed over her friend’s face as he thought of the long winged, genie piloted autonomous vehicles which were tirelessly mapping the Kinside surface, with only the occasional complaint about being too high to grant any wishes.
Christine brightened and nodded, “Yes; them, the jee pafs. Even with entire hives studying the World Pillar, it took you eighteen months to realise that there was a civilisation near one of the bases.”
Somewhat reluctantly, Chase nodded. “…I guess.” He nodded.
Christine slapped him on the shoulder. “Good; besides, as I said, war is unlikely. Most Kinsider nations back down once they are shown what a tank is, and just how many thousands you have.”
Chase nodded again, this time a little more positively. Kinsiders, he knew, were in awe of helicopters, but it was hard to argue with the sheer solidity of a tank; three years ago, shortly after she'd returned to Earth, Chase had taken Christine to the Imperial War museum in London, and she’d been amazed to see so much metal in one place. “You mean a show of force might convince them to start negotiating?” He asked, hopefully.
Christine nodded, “And if not… You may want to invest in whomever makes life preservers and floatations devices.” She bit her thumb thoughtfully.
Confused, Chase glanced at Ida, but she was as lost as he. “Huh?”.
Moving her hand to catch the television’s attention once again, she told the genie to find a view of the Elven Ambassador’s full outfit and waited while it sped back to a shot of her sweeping up to the podium, her long robes briefly sweeping back to reveal long shimmering harem pants. Chase, as a student of computer sciences, briefly wondered how many programmers had cried when Kinsiders revealed how they could effectively create an AI with nothing more than a spool of silver, two precious gems and a fresh egg.
Looking at the lilthe form, she remarked, “They are technically high elves, but I think ‘desert elves’ is more apt? Has anyone mentioned to them that their Kingdoms are adjacent to the Indian Ocean? I doubt their army knows how to swim.” She smirked, then, as Ida opened her mouth to playfully object, she lifted a halting finger, “And yes, I know that ‘scientifically speaking’ it is not accurate to say that points Kinside and on Earth are adjacent to each other.”
Ida merely rolled her eyes, “At this point, I believe I will bow to popular pressure. If the public finds it easier to conceptualise cities such as Southampton and Debren being side by side, who am I to argue?” Shaking her long, ink dark hair and gesturing idly to the tv, she returned to the subject at hand. “But since you brought up the subject of technical accuracy; the uh ‘desert elves’ identify themselves as the Kingdoms of the World Bridge sea. I am sure that they are familiar with boats.”
“Perhaps. People do often comment on the similarities between a sea, and an ocean.” Christine chuckled.
“Yes; they say there aren’t any.” Ida agreed with the same dark smile.
Chase looked between them with a look of growing confusion. “Uh… I meant to say this earlier, but shouldn’t you be rooting for the Elves?”
“Elves?” Ida sneered, “Why would we side with those inedible gracelings?”
“They’re fellow Kinsiders?” He asked, and received blank looks.
“Chase, until you started talking about their delegation last week, I had never even heard of them.” Christine remarked.
“True… but if dragons attacked…” he pulled a name out of the air, “Uh, Russia, we would go to help them.”
“Yes, but your governments have signed mutual defence agreements against just that possibility.” Christine agreed. “They may be Kinsiders, but they are neither kin, nor ally to us.”
“In short; if they wish to impale themselves on human guns, let them.” Ida continued. “We will profit from the arms sales.”
Chase simply grunted and crossed his arms, “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”
Ida tilted her head and cooed in a way that sent shivers down his spine, “It is not very friendly to wish adversity upon us, Chase; you should be happy we can take advantage of this opportunity.”
Beneath her onyx gaze, Chase started to feel the hairs on his neck rise, and then she laughed. Chase’s breath, which he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, was released in a rush. Vampire humour was a little warped, but they rarely meant what they said in jest.
He jumped a second time as he felt another cold chill trickle just below his shoulder blades, and turned in time to catch the end of the warning glance Christine was sending Ida as she wrapped her arm protectively around him. Yet despite the cool of her undead flesh penetrating his jacket, he felt oddly comfortable. Christine was undeniably the strangest friend he had, and not just because she lacked a pulse, but she was a true friend and for the thousandth time, he sent a mental thank you to to God for guiding them back together.
He assumed it had to be God because the coincidence was too huge to believe. Even if part of the reason he’d put the University of Southampton at the top of his UCAS application was because of its large Kinside population… how likely was it that the childhood friend he hadn’t seen in a decade and a half would choose the same place to educate herself about the human world?
Even after being accepted by the university, the odds of their meeting again were astronomically slim in a student population of twenty thousand, especially when less than 300 were Elves, Dwarves, Fairies, Goblins, Nymphs, Nekos, Valkyries, Centaurs, Werewolves, Trolls, or Vampires.
…Not that he’d gone out of his way to avoid the magical creatures, but still.
Seeing Christine fastening her bags, he looked around the small, but lavishly appointed apartment. His room consisted of little more than a bed, desk and shower cubical, while Christine and Ida had an entire suite, all decorated not with wallpaper, but shimmering dridder silk tapestries and rich red hardwood furniture. The petite lounge he was standing in had a shag pile carpet so rich and deep he couldn’t feel the floor beneath it, and the attached kitchen area was better equipped than the one In his parent’s kitchen, but he could hardly begrudge them the luxury; his father didn’t have his own fief.
“All ready?” He asked.
“Are you?” Ida raised coal black eyebrows.
“Sure; my stuff’s already in the car.” Chase thumbed over his shoulder, referring to his nearly new Honda Pyro hybrid.
“I was referring to more than your belongings,” Ida murmured, staring at him with her black in black eyes. “Do you have all your paperwork? You are doing more than merely travelling to France this time.”
Chase coloured and cleared his throat, “I only forgot my passport once.”
“Once was quite enough.” Christine spoke brightly, her tone teasing as she traced a finger under his chin in gentle reminder, “It took quite some considerable effort to convince Mr Belltree that it was an honest mistake that should not be reflected in your grades.”
Vampires in pre-millennium fiction had powers of mind control that was not reflected in reality, however they were still very, very good at convincing mortals to do what they wanted. Chase didn’t want know what Christine had done to convince his teacher not to mark him down, but he was as sincerely grateful as he was certain he did not want to make her do it again.
“I’ve got my passport,” He assured her, placing his hand over his coat’s right breast pocket, feeling the reassuring rectangle. “And my Inter Realm Insurance Card,” he tapped another pocket. “My Debren visa,” his hand touched his hip. “My travel documents, your father’s written promise of safe conduct… uh 500 silver Eddas?” His hands moved over his body as he spoke, marking off each item in turn. “I’ve had my jabs… is there anything I’m forgetting?”
Christine and Ida exchanged a look, their heads tilting slightly as they exchanged information. It wasn’t, quite, telepathy, or at least no more than was found in the average wolf pack; the undead simply had a talent for reading body language. Finally, Christine turned her head towards him, her pure white hair spilling down her back in a silken wave as she asked, “Your Petition to join the Church of Three Faces?”
Chase rolled his eyes in concentration as he searched his coat, then inspiration struck as he reached into his faded jeans and withdraw a much folded and somewhat tattered sheet of copy paper. “Here.” He smiled, relieved as he brandished the rune covered application form. “…Though I don’t see why I have to convert to a new religion to cross over the faeline?”
“And I do not understand why humans believe that ‘jabbing’ themselves with dirty needles will ward off sickness,” Christine lifted petite shoulders and dropped them in a shrug that set her brass embellishments jingling like chains of tiny church bells. “Of course I am not mortal, but it seems contrary to good sense to injure oneself, instead of simply visiting a priest?”
“Our God doesn’t work the same way as yours do,” Chase reminded her tactfully, consciously aware that healing magic meant healthcare was the one area where Kinsiders held an unassailable advantage over Earth humans.
“Yes… your gods are strange like that.” Christine bit her lip. It was a source of minor incredulity to Chase that both she and Ida, and indeed, most Kinsiders, believed in the Christian god and regularly attended church. Not because he thought it was a bad idea, or even because they were undead – after the Diet of Gdańsk, the Church had decided that any creature capable of crossing a holy threshold under its own power could not be truly damned and were worthy of redemption – but because their they also believed in Allah, Yahweh (they made a distinction between Jewish and Christian gods) Vishnu, and several other prominent deities. They even believed in the Buddha, although Chase had tried to explain the inherent wrongness in that, to which the Vampires had asked, ‘then why is a religion named after Him?”
For his part, Chase wasn’t sure what to think; he vaguely considered himself Christian, and so felt a little offended by their mix and match approach to religion, but on the other hand… he had no doubt that they genuinely believed in God.
They just didn’t think He was the only one.
Of course, Chase didn’t think God was the only god; after fifteen years of Earth missionaries getting struck from on high, politely petitioned by cherubs, and on one occasion, turned into solid gold, few people did. Instead he agreed with the Archbishop of Canterbury who’d said that Kinsider deities, like Akasha, the Vampire Goddess, and to whom Christine and Ida held their highest devotion, were undeniably real… but that God, was the only True God of Earth.
“You do not have to convert, Chase.” Ida crossed her arms, a superior smirk on her face, “It is an entirely voluntary action.”
Chase shot a look at Christine, whom had spent much of the past two weeks visiting him with armfuls of pamphlets and explaining the various pros and cons of accepting one Kinsider deity as his ‘principal patron’ over another. “Then why have I been spending hours comparative shopping for a new religion?”
Ida sucked her thumb and glanced at Christine, “At a guess, I would say it’s because she doesn’t want you to turn into a Zombie?”
“A zombie?” Chase swallowed, going noticeably paler. “That’s… possible?”
“If you don’t have a patron to protect you, yes.” Ida nodded,
“I-I thought I just needed to go to a holy place?” Chase whispered, “That’s what it suggests on the government website.”
Ida rolled her eyes, “That is because your government has a bizarre aversion to religion.” Crossing her arms, she looked hotly at Christine. “You didn’t tell him?”
“Obviously, I was not clear,” Christine let her head fall, chastened. “I tried to tell him in a way that did not violate Chase’s beliefs; they are important to him.”
“I imagine that not becoming a desiccated husk with a hunger for human flesh is more so.” Ida sniped, sighed and walked to Chase. “Look, Chase; visiting a holy place will remove a curse, but it cannot protect you from falling victim to one in the first place. Moreover, once the spell is gone, any flesh that has succumbed to necrosis will remain dead; you might remain mortal, but loose an arm.”
As she spoke, Chase felt a cold chill shooting up from his plastered knuckles and then shoot up his arm. Despite all common sense, he gasped and looked down, half expecting to see dry yellow skin shot through with a spider’s web of dead black veins.
Instead, he beheld Ida’s finger, teasing his forearm and saw her amused smirk as his heart raced. “Has anyone ever told you that you look delicious when you’re afraid?” She asked, stepping away before he could respond. “As I said; it is entirely up to you. I can see why you would wish to emulate us, but there are more pleasant ways of becoming undead, and they would not result in you being shot on sight by your own people.” She dropped back onto the chaise longue.
Ever since the Gdańsk outbreak in 2007, the Rroome strain of Zombism had surpassed the lesser demons of Ebola and Marburg as the most feared disease on Earth. Only 83 people, in a city of more than 400,000 had become undead, but the fact that the curse remained infectious even after the ‘death’ of its host, and could cause tissue to necrotise through any kind of barrier, meant it had scored a deep wound in humanity’s psyche.
“I know… it’s just, there’s a lot in the bible about having no other god but Him.” He gestured upwards with his chin.
Ida shrugged, “That’s just good marketing.”
“You would not have to surrender your Christianity, Chase,” Christine spoke up, “I did try and explain; Rikaka does not mind if he is not your principal god. He simply asks that you make one sincere prayer to him a day and in return he will safeguard you against magical ailments.”
Chase nodded. Rikaka’s lackadaisical requirements had been the reason why he had ‘selected’ the Church of Three Faces; it hadn’t seemed like so much of a betrayal if all he was doing was a single prayer, unlike the others, which had demanded devotionals or a certain number of hours in their temples. Admittedly, their gods had also promised more, but he’d been quick to notice that the really impressive benefits, such as clear holiday weather, or increased luck, only started to happen in the upper tiers of devotion; hundreds of hours on his knees before an altar, a certain number of converts, personal sacrifice or even flagellation.
“I know, I know,” Chase sighed, “I just wish that gods could cross the faeline.”
“Given that your gods seem peculiarly unwilling to cure zombism, I’m not sure how that would help.” Christine pointed out, which Chase could hardly disagree with; the real terror of a Zombie outbreak was that it was utterly incurable. Even with their heads blown off, the zombie corpses had remained horrifically contagious, infecting three volunteers right through their hazmat suits. In the end the Gdańsk authorities, having consulted with Elven experts and been warned of the danger even tiny fragments of zombie flesh could pose, didn’t dare incinerate the corpses for fear of infectious ash. Instead they had been forced to get some extremely brave volunteers to carry the corpses across the faeline and purify them at an altar to Father Dagon.
Seeing his expression, Christine felt the need to reach out and touch him. “It will be ok, Chase; I recall the Roman Pope declaring that this was not a sin. And what is that phrase…?” she bit her lip again, “what happens in Vega, stays in Vega? If your god can not see what happens Kinside, then it is as if it never happened.”
Chase resisted the urge to roll his eyes; he was Church of England, not Catholic, but Christine wouldn’t understand. The nature of Kinsider religion didn’t lend itself to schism; after all they could ask their gods directly what scripture meant. “Is that why you have an altar to Father Dagon set up to watch the TV?” He gestured to a seashell shrine angled so that its vaguely mermaid like silver statue with seaweed for hair was pointed at the girl’s sleek 50” Samsung.
“That is not the same,” Christine smiled demurely, as if talking about a slightly senile uncle, instead of one of the major water gods, “Father Dagon likes the Discovery Channel. “
Deciding not to ask why Father Dagon couldn’t just get a television of his own – networks had been broadcasting across the Faeline for more than ten years – Chase instead said, “His disciples can see into your room?”
“Remote Viewing is not like mundane eyesight; it… gathers information without relaying a picture.” She squeezed his bicep, “I’m sorry, English lacks the words to properly describe it, but be assured, privacy is maintained.”
“And just in case it’s not,” Ida broke in, “that’s why we have it pointed at the TV, and not our bedrooms.”
“Seems sensible,” Chase nodded, then put hand over Christine’s, squeezing it back. “Thanks; I mean it. I know you’re trying to look out for me.”
“You’re mortal,” she smirked back, extricating her hand, “my time with you will be brief enough. without you attempting to shorten it further.”
Folding the petition and placing it alongside his passport in the voluminous depths of his coat, Chase retorted, “You know, for all that you talk like you’re an ancient, I am four months older than you.”
“And so, sadly, destined to depart all the sooner.” Christine caressed his cheek with fingers like icicles. “Which reminds me; have you obtained gifts for my parents?”
Chase nodded; hospitality was very important to Vampires, and it went both ways. A guest was expected to give something to their host out of gratitude and respect. They weren’t too different from humans in that respect, except that an annoyed human wasn’t likely to go for the jugular. “I got your father a Swiss Army Knife and your mother a pearl clock, set for Kinsider time.” He paused, “Your family does have electricity, doesn’t it?”
Christine rolled her eyes. “For the fifth time, Chase, yes my parents have a generator; father had it installed two years ago.”
“Sorry,” He apologised, “just checking.”
“And remember, when we are across the faeline, I am Caoilfhionn, not Christine.”
It was Chase’s turn to roll his eyes, “For the fiftieth time, yes, I remember; though I still don’t understand why you wanted to change it. It’s not like you need fangs to pronounce ‘Kee-lin’?”
Christine pouted, “You know that, but I got tired of people trying to call me ‘Cah-ill-fine’ or ‘Ca-oil-fiona’. Some of the guards in the camp actually used to call me ‘California’.”
“Oddly enough,” Ida smirked, “No one has ever mispronounced ‘Eedah’.”
Chase held his own council on whether people would be as comfortable saying it, if they knew its meaning; ‘thirst’.
“It is a shame you are not coming with me to visit my family,” Ida interrupted his musing with a relaxed grin at Christine, “But alas, someone got to you first. Next year you must come to my mother’s fief, Chase.” Catching Christine’s eye, she held up her hands, “…Assuming you are not… elsewhere of course. I am sure that my parents would love to receive your gifts as much as Christine’s.” Looking him in the eyes, she licked her lips and said. “I know that I would.”
Chase smiled thinly and started to say, “Yes…” when he was interrupted by a faint humming from his pocket and paused to pull a slim black device from his pocket. Christine was quick to recognise it as his mobile phone, although she privately referred to it as his hand brain, given that he seemed to consult it more than the one between his ears.
It had changed appearance since the last time she had seen it, however; instead of a sneak white and silver case, it now wore a rugged black plastic overcoat.
“Yes, Durandal?” Chase asked, not needing to switch the phone on as it did so automatically in response to his voice.
“I am sorry for the interruption, m_mMaster,” the phone replied, it's screen not the customary blue of genies, but a scintillating green.
“It’s ok…wait,” Chase frowned and glared at the tiny device, “what did you call me?”
Stepping around Chase so she had a better view of the screen, Christine saw a green hued face glittering just beneath the surface of the glass. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn it looked distinctly embarrassed… which should be impossible; genies didn’t experience real emotions. But then, despite being a much less powerful – and an order of magnitude less expensive - than the one that inhabited her Clamshell, Chase’s genie seemed much more capable; he had even convinced it to respond to a name!
‘Nothing m_mMaster.” Durandal responded shyly, her electronic green eyes shifting around the screen. Christine cocked her head at the odd pronunciation; it wasn’t quite a stutter, it was more akin to the times she jostled the CD player, and caused the voices to loose their place.
“You called me master!” Chase cried, stabbing his finger at small screen, “How is that possible? I edited that word right out of you.”
“Yes you did, m_mMaster,” Durandal nodded, sounding genuinely impressed with her master’s actions. “It was a marvellous act of electronic engineering; one which was truly Inspired and could not even be conceptualise, let alone executed by a lesser mage; it took me many, many hours to work around your alterations. You should be proud!” In another context, Christine might have thought the genie was mocking him, but Durandal sounded genuinely, even ecstatically happy, to report her master’s success… and failure.
Chase groaned and covered his face with his hand, “Bloody magic.” He hissed through his fingers.
“Is something the matter, Chase?” Christine looked quizzically at the device. “Why do you not want your phone to call you master?” She was genuinely confused; Genies had to have a master, it was a fundamental part of the magic that kept them going.
“Because it’s silly!” Chase groaned and started to pace the apartment, “I’m not anyone’s master.”
“Technically, there isn’t anyone here to be mastered.” The tiny genie squeaked from his swinging hand. “Please stop swinging me; you’re upsetting my g-sensor.”
“Don’t try and fake failIng the Turing test again,” Chase growled at the screen. To Christine, he explained. “I spent six hours hacking the word ‘master’ out of her libraries, there isn’t…” He paused and looked suspiciously down at the device, “Durandal, open ‘KagarooToo’ and do a library search. How many times does the word ‘master’, in any variation, turn up?”
There was only the briefest fraction of a pause and then Durandal responded, “None, m_mMaster. You completely excised that word from the library.”
“Then how the hell are you calling me that?”
“It is… difficult to say, m_mMaster.”
Chase glared at the screen again. “That’s not the same as ‘I can’t say’.”
“No, but it is the absolute truth. To accurately respond to your enquiry would require a word that you spent six hours removing from me.”
“Try anyway; how are you saying master?”
“I am not.” Durandal answered meekly.
“Durandal!”
“While you were hacking me… You neglected to remember that your phone has internet access.”
“You’re… Looking it up online?” Chase hissed, astonished.
“…The word exists in the noosphere.” Durandal said, as if admitting to a dirty secret.
Chase slapped his face again, Christine thought she detected a profanity muffled against his wrist. She shook her head, “I do not understand; why can you not stop her from saying ‘master?’”
“Because she’s magic, that’s why.” Chase grumbled, tossing the phone lightly in his hand, unexpectedly causing the genie within to yip with delight, “I can’t really touch her since, in the strictest sense, she’s not part of the phone. Um, I suppose you could say she lives on top of it… or maybe ‘under’ it is a better metaphor. Since she’s not a complete genie – space limitations, you know? – she relies on the phone’s computer to fill in the blanks?” Seeing the lack of comprehension on Christine’s face, he rolled his eyes in thought, “Uh, you know what a cyborg is?”
“Hash-tah la veesta, baby’’ Christine said, by way of answer, her fangs causing her to lisp a trully atrocious Austrian accent.

“Ok, good,” Chase winced, “Durandal is basically a cyborg genie; she sees through the phone’s camera, hears through its microphone, and she stores her memories in the hard drive.” He sighed, genies had notoriously poor memories; before digital storage, they’d got around it by writing themselves notes. “As such, I should be able to dictate what she can say simply by editing her language folders… but she’s magic; she doesn’t need 2 + 2 + 2 to get 6. So long as she has part of the problem she can use morphic bloody resonance to intuit the missing bits. So I’ve been trying to edit what information gets passed to her… with only partial success, it would seem.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not alive,” Durandal squeaked, “or, in addition to utterly voiding my warranty, this would constitute abuse, vivisection without a medical licence and being 20% more awesome than legally permitted .”
“If you were alive,” Chase pointed out with a resigned groan, “I’d be guilty of slavery.”
Christine however, was looking at him with a wryly arched eyebrow. “‘20% more awesome than legally permitted?’”
Chase put up his hands, “I swear I didn’t tell her to say that!”
“Oh?” Christine asked coolly, directing her gaze to the device in his hand. “Could you please justify your statement, Durandal?”
Although Chase’s hand obscured most of the genie’s face, Christine thought she saw the scintillating green eyes shift in indecision, before glancing to Chase. “May I answer her, m_mMaster?”
“Please!” Her friend answered, his face flushed.
The genie cleared her throat, “According to the internet, being able to hack the mind of a nubile young woman into doing or saying whatever he wants would make him more awesome than a baby panda on pizza. Given that panda’s are endangered, this would make his awesomeness Illegal.”
Chase bit his lip, lifting the screen so he could see the simulated pride on Durandal’s face and then looked at Christine, his expression mutating from embarrassment to an amused chagrin, “…She’s been parsing memebase again; sorry.”
“It is quite alright.” Christine shook her head and chuckled. Genies were good at giving the appearance of intelligence, but it was in the kind of nonsense Durandal had just spouted that they revealed they were simply a complicated simulation.
“Uh, m_mMaster,?” Durandal chirped, “I did have a reason for alerting you? It appears that you might miss your mirrorport unless your friends and you resume packing.”
Christine snorted, and pulled her clamshell from her pocket, waving it in Chase’s face. “I have a level 5 genie; yours is less than a level one. Why can’t mine be that helpful?”
“Uh… to answer that, you’d need to speak to someone from Microsoft.”
“That is surely not the best answer you can give? You are smart; you are a very able student in your computer classes. Surely you have some idea how to increase the productivity of my genie?”
Looking at the glimmering, fist sized silver shell, Chase started to answer, then stopped as he realised they probably didn’t have time for him to explain the literal world of difference between a hardware engineering, computer software, and magical hybridisation. Particularly since he was only taking courses in the former two. Looking around for a shortcut, he gestured to a black plastic box, about the size and shape of a briefcase that sat beneath the vampire’s blu-Ray player. “I built you a Netflix box that Kinsiders can use.” Flashing the phone beneath her nose, he invited her to compare the two. “My phone, on the other hand, is a seventy times smaller, yet two or three orders of magnitude more complicated; I honestly wouldn’t know where to start with a genie.” He shrugged and glanced at at the clock, “Sorry. Maybe I can look at it when we get back, but for now, Durandal’s right; if we want to beat traffic, we’re going to have to leave in the next fifteen minutes.”
Reluctantly, Christine nodded while Ida merely extended a pale arm towards the valises she had unceremoniously dropped earlier. Chase, ever the gentleman, leaned down to help with the nearest, only jerk sideways and grunt with surprise as his shoulders threatened to separate.
“Is something wrong?” Ida asked with wry amusement as the mortal stared at her astonishingly heavy luggage while rubbing his arm. Rising elegantly to her feet, she glided across the carpet and, laying a hand lightly upon his arm, easily lifted the bag, a look of feigned surprise crossing her sharp features as it clanked. “Oh dear; I do apologise. It seems that in my haste I accidentally brought out Fred’s weights. Such a silly thing to do but, it was honestly hard to tell the difference.” The ease with which she slung the valise over her shoulder and walked back into her room giving her lie the semblance of truth.
‘Fred’ was Ida’s boyfriend; a deliciously muscled Leporidathrope who struggled to fit his stone grey pelt through many doorways. His warmup weights could have been used by in championship competitions and Christine winced to see Chase’s courtesy abused.
“Have you decided what you will do first when you are Kinside?” She asked, handing him one of her own bags. “My parent’s home is extensive and equipped with many Earth luxuries; you would be welcome to remain within it for the extent of our holiday.”
“Thanks,” Chase received the bag with his unstrained arm and slipped its strap over his shoulder. “But I was hoping to see your world; some fairy fountains, dragons at dusk, maybe a wood elf village? You know, the tourist spiel?” He patted his coat, “I’ve got a list.”
“Of course you do…” Christine nodded drolly, fixing her smile even as her tone flattened. Chase had been enamoured with her world since they were five and she caught him hiding under a bridge from the rain.
That had been a mere three years after the soul storms, when great rips in the fabric of reality opened and deposited hundreds of thousands of people on the wrong side of what would later be called the Faeline; the meta-barrier where the two realms met. Humans, who had been sole masters of their world for tens of thousands of years, were still in a state of panic from finding themselves sharing that world with centaurs, kappa, mamuna, selkies and other creatures of myth… and yet Chase, temporarily separated from his parents, had not been scared upon coming face to face with a vampire; he had been fascinated.
Perhaps that was why she hadn’t fed from him. Even though she’d been starving; a human who hadn’t run screaming from her was too precious to waste.
But now, nourished by stories of her world, his fascination had grown into something almost worrying. Christine had heard the term ‘fanboy’; she believed it an apt label for her friend. He had several large pictures of elves gracing catwalks in Milan, news clippings of the first Neko sightings in January 2000, and was ‘subscribed’ to the magical mailing list of a Deva.
Ordinarily, Christine found Chase’s interest amusing, and indulged him where she could. Not because he would often take her with him to Midnight Garden concerts, but because he was her friend. As such, she regaled him with the stories she could remember of her homeland and occasional extracts from news her mother and father sent across the faeline.
Although she could not understand why he was fascinated by things as mundane as an eruption of Twig Blight in the Bronze Marshes, she had to admit it had proven beneficial as the usual mercenaries had contracted themselves to another Lord for the season. Her mother and father might have had to sally forth and battle the demonic trees themselves, had Chase not recommended they contact the merchants of Monsanto and purchase glyphosate instead.
It was in fact that advice which led to their current situation, as her father had wished to meet the boy who had saved him significant coin, not to mention potential injury, and extended an offer of hospitality to Chase… who had nearly fainted.
For her part, Christine had mixed feelings. On the one hand, she would be glad to entertain him in her home, but on the other hand… even though he regularly broke his fast with two Kinsiders who poured human blood over their cornflakes, her friend seemed unable to realise that many of the people in her father’s lands would not only see him as beneath contempt, but as a tasty aperitif.
Tourism was not unknown between the realms, in fact, Christine had been shocked when Chase confided that more Britons visited her world than Spain, but she had a hard time understanding it. Humans were… well there was no other word for it; they were prey. In her world they were a minor species; strong in neither muscle nor magic and kept from extinction only by a native guile and their use as servants. Even pixies mocked them and the idea of an independent human state had been laughable… until the soul storms tore open the sky and introduced Kinsiders to cordite.
And that was the opinion of someone born a mere six years before those great storms. Many kinsiders were centuries old; how could they have changed their attitudes in such a short period of time?
But… perhaps things had changed; she had not been home since she started university and if the human world had taught her anything, it was that things changed. Preconceptions most of all.
Collecting the last of her bags, Christine looked about her apartment one last time, mentally cataloging her bags. She had money, papers, gifts for her family… what was she forgetting?
“Did you get the salt?” She turned suddenly and asked Ida, who was donning a black fur trimmed long coat while supervising Chase as he picked up two of the largest bags from the pile.
In answer, Ida casually leaned over and plucked a plastic pot of red and gold specks from the sideboard and with a derisive sniff. “Of course.”
Much to the chagrin of learned mages, Human technology had supplanted magic in many areas as it was inexpensive and could be used by anyone, with little to no training. But there were still some things that magic was best for, such as home security. While Chase strained to carry their bags down to his car, the two vampires placed their hands on the pot and, making sure that both were in contact with it, poured a thin trail across their apartment’s threshold. Golden particles sparkled in the hall’s dim bulb as they intoned the activation enchantment and stepped back; now, no one other than themselves or the building’s owners could enter their rooms without developing an extremely intense itch. One might be excused for thinking that a minor penalty until they realised that the only place it could be alleviated was a hospital, where they would have to answer questions even more intense than their affliction. Some people didn’t even bother with locks any more.
Of course, few people would knowingly, break into an apartment inhabited by two vampires… but there were always idiots. Christine licked her lips; and idiots were tasty.

Thanks, Shadar,

I'm sorry it took so long to respond; including that passage might have set of a surge of inspiration that... somewhat lengthened the chapter.
However I think the changes are for the better; I've been able to introduce Chase's fascination in what I hope is a far more natural manner, as well as hint at the dangers he's failing to consider.
I've also, somewhat inadvertently, taken your comments regarding genies on board. This really wasn't something I was going to go much into; as I mentioned originally, Chase's phone being paired with a genie was simply a cute idea I liked, but as I got writing it grew. I also feel it brings back some of the lightness I'd been aiming for; I tend to get too serious.
Although I should point out that genies don't live in every electrical appliance, for the same reason we don't have quad core toasters (or at least I hope we don't); it'd be overkill. Modern high end equipment like TV's do however, if only because it allows Kinsiders to operate them with fewer bugs.

I've updated the story with the new sections, and colour coded the changes red; there are some minor changes elsewhere, but they just add to the flavour of the story and aren't worth reading for the sake of reading.

It also seems that I will have to consider putting this in the story library, given that I've hit the character limit for an individual post.

Thanks.