“What are you?” Angie blurted out before I could say anything.
Navan leaned back in his chair, contemplating Angie for a few moments, before replying, “We are known as coldbloods—although you humans would likely refer to us as vampires.”
“What?” I spluttered. Though, now that I really thought about it, they did have that whole bat thing going on, at least with the wings. I had definitely read stories in vampire lore where vamps and bats had close ties, I just… never imagined that they actually looked like this… or existed.
“Vampires? Coldbloods? But why are you so hot?” Lauren asked, her face scrunched up in confusion.
“That is a long story,” Navan replied somberly, and his eyes became clouded, distant, as if he were sifting through a long and troubled history in his mind.
He then cast a glance toward his brother and Ianthan. “Where do you think I should begin?”
Ianthan shrugged.
“You might as well start at the very beginning,” Bashrik replied. “We still have time.”
Navan rolled his eyes. “I don’t remember signing up to be the leader of story hour.” He then clasped his hands together, leaning forward in his seat, and cleared his throat as though he were bracing himself for something. “So… I suppose the first thing you ought to understand is that the life forms you humans are aware of, and who live amongst you on this earth, are not the only life forms in the universe. There are others… many, many others. Coldbloods are just one. We come from a place called Vysanthe—it is a world in a far corner of the universe where the sun barely touches.” He looked at Bashrik. “This is stupid. I feel stupid.”
“You’re doing great,” Bashrik said.
“Whoa, whoa, wait. Wait,” Angie interrupted. “Another world? You… You guys are aliens?!”
The faintest smile touched Navan’s lips, and his whole face seemed to light up. My stomach fluttered at the sight, much to my annoyance. “We are aliens to you as much as you are aliens to us,” he replied.
“Mind. Officially. Blown,” Lauren breathed, her eyes bugging as she continued to stare at the strange silver sphere. Yeah, that thing definitely looked like it came from another world.
I pressed my fingers to my temples and returned my attention to Navan. “So… You’re not from Earth. Why are you here?”
Again, Navan shot a look at Bashrik. “They’re not going to understand,” he said.
Bashrik nodded encouragingly. “Just try to explain.”
Navan huffed, almost petulantly, before resigning himself to continuing. “We are highly advanced,” he said, “in ways that a human probably could not even comprehend. We are light years ahead of you in terms of otherworldly travel, and our rulers are constantly pushing their citizens for further innovation, in all fields of life… their current obsession being life extension.”
“But . . .” I looked at Angie and Lauren to see if they had picked up on that. “If you’re vampires, aren’t you immortal?”
“We are trying to be.”
“Uh, please explain,” Lauren said, staring at him blankly.
“Your vampire lore is not accurate. We do possess some of the qualities featured in your stories—such as enhanced speed, strength, and sensual awareness. But we are born the same way humans are born—through conception—and we die the same way humans die, after approximately one hundred years, assuming external factors don’t claim our lives sooner.”
“Wow. So your lifespan is no longer than that of humans?” Angie reiterated.
“Our natural lifespan is more or less the same as humans,” Navan corrected, casting his brother a grim look.
“If we consumed nothing but the blood of animals native to our planet,” Bashrik explained, “then we would die after about a hundred years.”
“So you do consume blood, then?” Lauren asked. “Only blood?”
“Blood is our preferred meal,” Navan replied. “And though we can drink other substances, too—especially for medicinal purposes—our bodies are not designed to eat solid foods.”
“So… are you, like, sitting there lusting after our blood right now?” Lauren ventured, a morbid look on her face. “I’m totally not offering it to you,” she added quickly. “Just curious.”
Bashrik chuckled.
Navan looked less amused. “Your blood is too foreign to be immediately tempting to us,” he said, looking at me even though it was Lauren who had asked the question. “It would have to be synthesized in order for us to benefit from it. After synthesis, however…” His expression grew dark as his voice trailed off. He looked away, toward the woods, focusing on no specific thing. “After that… your blood could prove to be very valuable to us, indeed.”
His words hung ominously in the air, and for a few moments, no one said anything.
“What Navan means is,” Ianthan said, breaking the silence with his higher-pitched, nasally voice, “your blood is most likely what our race has been seeking for the past four years.”
Angie jerked forward. “Our blood?”
“Human blood in general.” Navan’s gaze had returned to me, and there were so many layers of emotion glimmering there that I could only wonder what he was thinking. “Four years ago, one of Vysanthe’s most… esteemed alchemists put forward what became known as the Immortality Theory. The basic essence of the theory is that the right type of blood could extend our lives indefinitely, as long as we kept taking it. For decades, we have known the effect that certain foreign species’ blood can have on us—we have already figured out how to extend our lives for up to fifty years past our natural expiration with the use of blood from neighboring planets. So, immortality is naturally the next step.
“The theory posed that the farther the planet, the harder the blood is to synthesize, but the more effective it is once we have figured out how to absorb it. The alchemist argued that there was likely some planet in the universe whose predominant species’ blood held the right potency and balance of chemicals to achieve immortality—we just needed to venture far enough.”
He paused, and I realized I was hardly breathing.
“And you believe that blood is ours,” I said slowly, the pieces suddenly falling into place. “You never planned to return us back home after we drank the Elysium—you were going to kill us and drink our blood!” My muscles tensed and my eyes shot to the doorway, where Jethro still stood.
Navan held up a hand and shook his head.
“Our race is out for your blood. We, however”—he gestured to his small group—“are not.”
“Then why are you here?” Angie asked, her blue eyes narrowing.
“Navan would never take credit for this, but he personally discovered Earth about a year ago,” Bashrik said.
“As far as I am aware, nobody other than the coldbloods with me here on this patch of land are even aware of Earth’s existence yet,” Navan said, ignoring his brother.
“How did you discover Earth then?” I asked. “And how can you be sure you’re the only ones?”
“Because I am a man of high rank back on Vysanthe—one of two Chiefs in charge of exploration missions. I know the type of technology that is available to our teams… and none of it is yet advanced enough to reach this far into the universe. My ship is unique.” He added this last part haltingly, almost shyly, as if he didn’t want to let on how proud he was of the ship. He glanced at the silvery sphere, a flicker of fondness in his eyes. “It’s the only one capable of traveling the distance. Jethro is a gifted mechanic as well as an experienced medic, and together, we figured out how to build what our fellows couldn’t. At the time, I just wanted a ship better than anyone else so that I could… well, get as far away from Vysanthe as possible.”
“Why is that?” I asked, frowning.
Navan looked truly uncomfortable at the question, and my fear that we were about to be devoured ebbed. “I’m sure you’ve got your ideas about who we are, what we’re like,” he said. “I’d venture to say they’re probably all wrong.
Let’s just say I’m not proud of my species. I was originally trained as an alchemist, but about midway through my training, I decided to become an explorer instead—mainly because it afforded me frequent opportunities to get away from a culture that I honestly despise.”
He practically spat the last word, and I was taken aback by his emotion. It felt like a very personal thing for him to share with us, and I wasn’t expecting him to go this deep into his personal history. Now that he was, however, I’d be damned if I didn’t make the most of it. “Why do you hate it so much?” I pressed.
He looked up at me, and it suddenly felt as if everything else had fallen away, that we were the only two in the room. “I’m not sure if this is included in our little question and answer session,” he muttered.
“It’s a question,” I said. “So you have to answer.”
“Do I?” he asked softly—his tone somewhere between curious and dangerous. “I’m not used to being told what to do.”
I held his gaze, swallowing. “Yes,” I said. “You do.”
The seconds ticked by, and I found myself uncertain of how he was going to respond. His stare sent an almost electric shiver through me. My surroundings seemed to blur as the world narrowed down to just the two of us, existing in our own private universe. I had never experienced anything like it before—was it some sort of mind trick? I’d had trouble holding his gaze when we’d first met in the fields, too. It felt as though we had some sort of connection, though I knew how crazy that sounded. He was a creature from another planet—why the hell would I feel a connection with something like that?
He took a deep breath, breaking eye contact, and rubbed his hand across the lower part of his face. “Well… Where do I start?” he said, resuming his former conversational tone. “In a nutshell, what I hate most about my kind is that their every accomplishment has been earned at the cost of others. They take pride in what they can plunder, rather than what they can create. I don’t want to be like that.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I’d think if you were so advanced, you’d be able to create plenty.”
“They build their furniture from the bones of species they have driven to extinction and display it with pride in their homes; they boast cellars of blood from foreign creatures far too full for them to ever consume before expiry; they leech resources from planets on a whimsy, regardless of the consequences it might have for the local population. Once Vysanthe discovers a land that possesses something it wants, it will keep gnawing at it like a dog gnaws at the leg of a deer, piece by piece, sinew by sinew, until there’s nothing left.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. “Basically, I needed an excuse to get away; buy myself periods of time where I could just float in a vacuum without bumping into anyone of my own kind, clear my head, under the guise of embarking on missions to discover new species for our leaders’ plans. And so… I’m thankful that Jethro helped me build Soraya over there.” He cast a meaningful look at the older coldblood, and then another fond look at his ship.
“Well,” I murmured, feeling quite speechless. “Soraya’s a beautiful ship.”
“For the longest time, Navan didn’t tell anyone about his discovery of Earth,” Bashrik said. “He didn’t even tell me. Can you believe it?” His eyes widened, as though we should be shocked by that. “Though, he discovered quickly after his arrival here by taking a blood sample that human blood held the properties we were seeking. He should have returned to report his findings to our authorities—if he’s found to have kept Earth hidden, it would result in a level of punishment you couldn’t imagine but… you didn’t report, did you, Navan?”
Navan sighed. “I couldn’t.”
“Because you didn’t want to be responsible for the damage your people would do to yet another planet—and you’d rather risk punishment?” I asked.
“Something like that… It’s nothing I’d expect you to understand.”
“Why is that? Because you’re so much more advanced than we are?” I asked, frowning. “And why are you and your brother and friends here so different from the rest of your species?”
Navan shrugged, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Every creature in the universe is born with free will. We can choose to be different, even if we share the same anatomy.”
That… was true.
“What are you all doing here, exactly?” Lauren asked.
“We’re trying to help Ronad,” Navan replied, casting a furtive glance toward the house.
“So is Ronad one of your brothers, too?” Angie asked, looking from him to Bashrik.
“In a way, yes. He’s not a blood relative, like Bashrik, but I do see him as a brother. I’ve actually got nine brothers, but only two whom I actually trust.”
“I see,” I said slowly, wondering how that must feel, to have so many brothers yet be unable to trust them. I was an only child, so I had zero experience of what it was like to have even one sibling, never mind nine.
“What happened to him?” Angie asked. “How did he get injured?”
“Injured would be the wrong word,” Bashrik replied. “He is, uh, undergoing a transformation—for which we all decided to come to support him.”
“Transformation?” I repeated.
Navan stood up and started pacing. “When I got here, I conducted a few experiments. Mostly because I was curious to know how a creature like myself might blend in better with Earth’s environment, should I decide I’d like to spend a few days at a time here. I used my alchemy skills to develop a formula that would allow us to better adapt to Earth’s atmosphere. Our bodies naturally conduct coldness—we are freezing by nature—but the formula I developed allows us to absorb warmth, and essentially become a conductor of heat. The more exposed we are to the heat, the hotter we become—and the daylight has an effect on our skin. It absorbs its rays and turns golden.”
“So you’re kind of like . . . a reptile,” I said, blown away by everything he was saying. To have the knowledge and skills to invent a formula that could have that level of transformation… It was impressive to say the least.
“And Ronad?” Lauren prodded.
Navan turned his back on us to face the house. “That’s a story for another time. We’ve suffer—I mean, he’s suffered a great loss and can no longer bear to live in Vysanthe. Let’s just leave it at that. I want to do whatever I can to help him. We are in the process of giving him a treatment that we hope will have a more permanent effect. It would allow him to adopt a warm-bodied, human-like form on a permanent basis, so he can stay on Earth full time. He would live off the blood of wild animals and keep to himself. A side effect of the treatment is losing the wings… and a lot of pain. But by tomorrow night, we should have finished our business here.”
“And then where will you go? And why come here, to this place in particular? Why were you digging a hole out the front?” I asked. There were still so many questions racing through my brain.
“I’m touched by your concern, really,” he replied somewhat sarcastically, “but you don’t have to worry about where we’re heading next. Probably back to Vysanthe, because our absence would be noted otherwise, and we cannot afford to arouse suspicion. We will take one of Ronad’s wings back with us and claim he suffered a fatal accident during an excursion, and the wing is all we have left of him.” Navan and Bashrik exchanged a glance, and I could sense the sorrow between them at having to leave Ronad behind.
“As for why here?” Navan continued. “This area is particularly hot, so conducive for our purposes. I had landed in the vicinity a while ago, and discovered this abandoned house. I had left some money and supplies hidden underground around the front of the house—which is why there’s a hole.”
“So you threw your brother’s wing into the creek?” Angie said.
“And then broke into our house to steal it?” I said.
“It’s not stealing if it belongs to you,” Navan retorted, and I could sense that he’d finally lost his patience. “And no one was supposed to find it in
the creek. It’s best for everyone that humans remain unaware of us, which brings us to the conclusion of this enlightening question and answer session.” He reached into his pants pocket and withdrew the three silvery vials of Elysium. “I held up my end of the bargain,” he continued. “Now, it’s your turn. Trust me when I say our world is not something you want to get mixed up in.”
His wintry gaze found me again, and I suddenly felt a dull ache in my chest. If I drank the Elysium, everything about tonight would be wiped from my mind… Everything.
Chapter Nine
I stared at the silver tubes, a wave of dread washing over me.
I was not just going to forget everything.
My mind had been expanded in ways I could never have predicted, and the thought of going back to complete ignorance was just… unbearable. It would feel like something had been taken from me, something precious.
But I had made a promise to Navan, and he was right—he had held up his end of the bargain. He hadn’t tried to lie, and he’d been patient in his explanations.
“Okay,” I said, my voice hoarse, my eyes glued reluctantly on the little vials. “Since we’re going to lose our memory of the past twelve hours, can I… can I have a quick, private word with my friends?”
I didn’t have a plan; I was just trying to stall the inevitable. Have at least a few more minutes to get my thoughts in order before they were wiped out.
Navan looked as if he were about to say no, but then he relented. “Five minutes,” he said, nodding toward the house. He met my gaze. “Don’t get any ideas about trying to escape again,” he added. “You’re the mouse, remember?”
I swallowed, and headed toward the back door, Angie and Lauren behind me. Jethro stepped out of the doorway, silently watching us enter. The heat swallowed us whole as we made our way along the corridor. I ran a hand along the wooden wall and pushed against the first unlocked door that we reached.
“Mouse?” Lauren asked, confused. “What is he talking about?”
“He basically snatched me off the ground like a hawk would a mouse,” I replied, remembering the feel of his arms pressed against me. I pushed the memory from my mind... If I wanted to keep any of these memories, I needed to focus. I had an idea, but it would be risky to pull off.