“Whatever you wish to know, please ask us, milords,” the female Iman said. “We are here to help in whatever way we can.”
“Thank you,” I croaked, surprised that they’d heard me. I figured they had good hearing, which made me wonder what else they could do. “Would you be able to tell us a little bit about yourselves? Your species, I mean.”
We reached the top of the stairs, where another beautiful square awaited. This one was bordered by rich floral arrangements in deep shades of red, with velvety petals and long, green stems. They were planted in large, rectangular white marble pots, over which we could see the levels below, the deep green plains stretching to the east, and the cluster of dark gray gorges known as the Valley of Screams.
I stilled for a moment, taking it all in. The Valley of Screams seemed like a quiet giant, with dozens of crevices, as if someone had taken a knife and sliced through a limestone maze. Thick shrubs and dark patches of woods separated the gorges from the plains, while the afternoon sky cast its soft hues of red and orange over the area. Birds flew above, settling in the tall trees at the top.
“We are Imen,” the female said slowly. “We are simple creatures that belong to Neraka. We’ve been here since the beginning of time.”
“Since there was only one sun in the sky,” the male added. “We were mostly wildlings until the Maras came in a giant ball of light. We didn’t welcome them at first, but we brokered a peace, and, as the years went by, some of us assimilated. The others went on to live beyond the Valley of Screams.”
“Why’s it called the Valley of Screams, though?” Avril asked, looking out. “It’s not a valley, per se.”
“It is not, milady,” the female replied. “But many moons ago, it was. A few centuries after the Exiled Maras arrived, there was a terrible earthquake. It was a valley at the time, before the ground shook. We called it the Valley of Screams because it was full of darkness and dangers that ate our people, and we could sometimes hear them late at night. After the earthquake, the gorges rose from below, but the darkness and danger stayed. And so did the name. The Maras weren’t too afraid, but we kept our distance from it.”
The Imen stepped away from the edge and walked into a beautiful inn, a three-story building with dark brown shutters and small balconies opening out from the nine windows of the top floor. The ground floor was lively and well-lit on the inside, with chairs and tables on the outside terrace. The terrace was lined with tall green hedges, and black iron lamps were hung from the walls. A young Iman was perched on a ladder, lighting each in preparation for nightfall, while several Maras were seated both inside and outside, sipping blood from elegant brass cups.
We followed the servants indoors, where an old Iman played a stringed instrument in a corner, its sounds heartfelt and bright like those of a violin, and a bartender served a variety of blood-based drinks. I got a glimpse of the menu, which was scrawled on a wall-mounted blackboard in white chalk. Pepper Blood, Sweet Tangerine Blood, Widow’s Kiss, and Orchid and Jasmine Infusion were just a few of the drinks I caught a glimpse of before we crossed the reception area and went up the stairs.
Caia and I looked at each other, then analyzed the interior of the inn. Wooden structural beams were visible, lacquered and polished to perfection in dark shades of brown against the off-white painted walls. Thick burgundy carpets covered the upper floor and staircase, and dozens of paintings and floral arrangements adorned the open corridor leading to different rooms.
I was shown to my chamber, a double bed sprawled in the middle, covered with fluffed up, hand-embroidered pillows and a furry bed throw. I set my travel bag on the floor, then checked my surroundings. Two nightstands, a dresser, a vanity table with a large mirror and a high-backed chair, a chest of drawers, the open door to a private bathroom, and the wide, floor-to-ceiling window in the middle facing toward the Red Square outside with a small balcony.
There were several paintings on the walls, large landscapes with gilded frames. One of them was slightly crooked. I moved it, and heard a familiar metallic squeal. I looked behind the canvas and smiled at the sight of a large safe built into the wall. There was a piece of paper inside, with the safe’s combination.
I took my backpack off, making sure I had all my essentials with me first. I added two long knives in leather sheaths to my upper back, strapped around my torso with an X-shaped belt, and filled the pouches on my belt with healing capsules and a few emergency powders and herbs for defensive spells.
Best to be prepared at any time of the day. I shoved the backpack into the safe, memorized the combination, and locked the door, then moved over to the window to get a better look at the Valley of Screams, using my True Sight. The name creeped the hell out of me, but, with the suns setting lazily over the gorges, it didn’t look all that ominous. In fact, it was beautiful, with lush greenery and streams inviting anyone to come in and explore the numerous passages made of dark gray limestone.
I saw wild animals, small rodents and creatures similar to deer, grazing on the edge. The reddish afternoon light cast a variety of shadows into the gorges, but I could still see colorful lizards climbing up the jagged walls, and birds resting in the branches of trees. I wondered if the Valley revealed its screams after nightfall.
I left my room, locking the door behind me, and went into Caia’s, which was next to mine. She’d been doing the same, staring out the window, most likely trying to get a feel for the Valley of Screams from afar.
“What do you think of this place so far?” I asked, my voice low as I crossed the room and joined her side.
“It seems normal,” she murmured. “I mean, as normal as it gets for a species of Eritopian vampire that was banished and forced to start over in a foreign world. They all seem nice and friendly and ridiculously polite. Which isn’t a bad thing, but… I don’t know. I don’t think we have all the info yet.”
“We definitely don’t,” I said. “They must have their secrets and weird habits, for sure. What I don’t really understand is how they keep losing people like this. What’s taking them?”
“I don’t know. We’ll probably have to speak to the victims’ families and check out the Valley of Screams. They did say most disappearances took place there.”
“True, but now I’m curious to find out where the others vanished. Those are the deviations, and might yield more clues about what or who is taking the Exiled Maras.”
“Most importantly, I think we need to check the timeline and see if there’s a pattern,” Caia added. “Perhaps a cycle can be identified. It might help us prevent another abduction.”
“Don’t you think the Exiled Maras would’ve noticed one by now?”
“Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. We need to ask them later.”
I nodded my agreement. Caia took her backpack off and glanced around the room, looking for a place to stash it. I pointed at a similarly crooked painting on the wall next to the bed.
“There’s a safe there, with a security combination,” I said. “It’s where I put my backpack.”
We had some valuable things in these backpacks, including swamp witches’ scrolls and rare herbs and minerals we weren’t sure we’d find anywhere on Neraka, so having safes at our disposal was convenient.
After she locked her stuff up, we left her room and stopped at the top of the staircase, leaning against the dark wooden balustrade to look downstairs while we waited for the rest of the team. The Maras seemed so at home here, exchanging friendly words, sipping blood, and enjoying the violin-like music. The Imen servants wore dark gray, almost black pants and vests, with white shirts and short, black aprons. The male and female Maras were as fashionable as the ones we’d seen in the squares outside and in the streets, but were wearing lighter colors, ranging from lime green to peach and pale pink. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. It bugged me, but I didn’t know why, exactly.
The servants had fair skin and looked slightly uncomfortable in their uniforms, but that didn’t exactly come as a surprise. No
one would ever truly be themselves while catering to the rich, and the one thing I couldn’t ignore about all this was the overall bourgeoisie feel. I saw the two Imen who had escorted us to the inn. They were standing by the bar, talking to the bartender. They seemed serene, until the female looked up and noticed me. There was a flicker of fear in her brown eyes, so fleeting that I almost missed it.
“It might be a little too soon to start reading their emotions.” Caia gave me a gentle warning, as she’d seen the Iman woman, too.
“I know,” I sighed. “I don’t want to freak them out, but I can’t tell right now whether they’re scared of us or whatever it is that’s been taking the Maras.”
“They could be worried that they might be next.” Patrik’s voice startled us both.
He’d been standing behind us, though I wasn’t sure for how long. Jax and Hansa came out of their rooms farther down the corridor and joined us at the top of the stairs. Jax glanced over the balustrade and made eye contact with the Imen servants.
“They’re waiting for us to go downstairs for dinner,” he muttered.
“What do you think of this place?” I asked, eager to find out what was going through his head.
“I think they’re dealing with something here, for sure,” Jax replied. “However, it’s too soon to pass judgment. I do admit I’m breathing a little easier now. The Maras seem to have rebuilt their lives nicely here. But I wouldn’t recommend getting too comfortable with them just yet.”
“Jax, thousands of years have passed since they were exiled.” Hansa frowned slightly. “I’m not one to trust other creatures easily, but even I have to say I believe them when they say they’ve truly changed their ways.”
“I’m not rejecting that premise,” Jax said, glancing around the reception area. “I just want to make sure before we get all giggly and friendly with them.”
Scarlett
(Daughter of Jeramiah & Pippa)
The first thing I did, after dropping my travel bag and backpack on the floor, was sink into the massive bed and revel in its softness. I was genuinely impressed by the plushness and sheer elegance of the place, far beyond what I’d imagined it would be like. The whole city was beautiful, the Exiled Maras’ love for decorative arts present all over the place, from the architectural fluff to the finely crafted pieces of furniture and stylish accents.
I found a safe in my room behind a painting, with the combination scrawled on a piece of paper. I took some essentials out of the backpack, then put it inside, locking it safely and memorizing the code.
The rest of my team was waiting at the top of the stairs, talking among themselves and occasionally looking down at the Mara patrons and Imen servants.
“To be honest,” Jax was saying as I reached them, “our people were nearly obliterated because of these Maras, and we do tend to hold a grudge, even across entire generations, so my doubtful opinion could be biased.”
“At least you’re admitting it.” Heron raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I’m the same. I don’t like them, but it’s not because they did anything to me. On the contrary, so far, they’ve been nothing but gracious and kind. I think we inherited our ancestors’ instincts or something.”
“Can’t say I’m crazy about the fashion here,” Hansa muttered. “Too many skirts and dresses for my taste, but, hey, if that makes them happy, I’m not one to care.”
“And Emilian was right,” Patrik mused, his gaze fixed on the bar downstairs. “They’ve had the swamp witches’ interplanetary spell for so long. They could’ve come back to Eritopia if they wanted to. Maybe they really are happier here.”
“They’re also probably aware that we will rain down fire and death on them if they try anything stupid.” Heron smirked.
“Do you think they’re really sticking exclusively to animal blood?” I asked, prompting everyone to look at me. I felt Patrik’s steel-blue eyes on my face, and my cheeks caught fire, but I did my best to play it cool.
“They could be, but I don’t think so.” Jax scoffed. “Even we don’t live exclusively off animal blood. We do favors around Calliope, get other creatures in our debt for Pyrope. But that’s like a treat, and it never harms or kills the one who willingly gives us blood.”
“You think they’re practicing Pyrope with the Imen?” Heron replied.
“Could be. Or maybe they’re mind-bending them into it,” Jax said quietly.
“We can look into this,” I offered. “Find out if the Imen are giving their blood willingly or are being… convinced to do it.”
“You will do no such thing,” Jax shot back. “Not you, anyway. Leave this to me and Heron. We know how to handle our own species.”
“Besides, a Mara would be much more adept at recognizing symptoms of mind-bending, if I’m not mistaken,” Patrik added, his gaze finding mine again.
I nodded, holding my breath in the process. They were right; we didn’t want to kick a hornet’s nest in here, since it wasn’t even why we’d come all the way here in the first place. Their feeding habits could take a back seat, for now.
“Okay, it’s time to reach out to Calliope and let them know it’s all good,” Hansa said, then closed her eyes. “Telluris Draven.”
A few moments passed in absolute silence, but nothing happened. She frowned, giving Jax a brief glance before she tried again.
“Telluris Draven,” she called out.
Still, she didn’t hear anything. She clicked her teeth with frustration.
“This is weird,” Harper muttered, then tried reaching out as well. “Telluris Draven…”
“Telluris Draven.” Jax tried as well.
A couple of minutes passed, all of us trying to call out to Draven, but nothing happened. I couldn’t even feel his presence like I had before, back on the platform. I’d felt him in my mind as we’d traveled through the stars, and even as we’d reached this galaxy, so it wasn’t an issue of distance that impeded Telluris. Our souls were meant to be connected in an extra-sensory manner that allowed us to communicate at any time, from any place.
My stomach churned. I didn’t like this.
“Could it be that disruptive asteroid belt?” I asked.
“Yes, it could be,” Hansa replied, her eyes wide with the realization as she looked at Jax and Patrik. “We could be cut off from GASP because of those damn purple crystals orbiting Neraka. How can this be?”
“It shouldn’t be the case.” Patrik frowned. “Like Draven said, Telluris connects our souls. It transcends space altogether; it isn’t subject to any physical interference.”
“Then what do we do?” Harper crossed her arms over her chest, visibly displeased with our current inability to communicate with GASP—a feeling we all had in common.
“We’ll speak to Emilian about it,” Patrik replied, his eyes finding mine again. “If he has no answers, we’ll try again later. If that doesn’t work, I’ll try a couple of over-Ninetieth-Circle spells tomorrow.”
“And if that doesn’t work?” Hansa asked.
“Then we tough it out, finish the recon mission, then light-orb our asses out of here.” Jax’s blunt reply pointed at our only other option. “This shouldn’t take more than a week, anyway. And if it goes beyond that allocated time, we all know Calliope will send an army to retrieve us, if they can’t get a hold of us.”
Heron leaned against the balustrade, scratching the back of his head.
“Yeah, they’ll get anxious back in Eritopia. They’ll think something happened. I guess the sooner we gather enough data to discuss and decide how to assist the Exiled Maras, the quicker we can get back to Calliope, before Draven and the whole of GASP send their space armadas after us.”
Fiona
(Daughter of Benedict & Yelena)
We all made our way downstairs, where the two Imen servants waited to take us to the grand dining room of the inn. It was a spacious banquet hall, with elegant cream-and-golden wallpaper, chestnut wood paneling, and lacquered flooring of the same shade. Candlelit brass chandeli
ers and lily-shaped sconces provided a warm, yellowish light, and a large dinner table with a seating capacity of twenty people reigned in the middle.
The Five Lords stood up as soon as we walked in, with a dozen Imen servants lined against the walls, waiting to service the dinner table. The smell of roast spices poured in through a half-open door at the other end of the dining room.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Emilian said with a warm smile. “I took the liberty of having the inn’s chefs prepare food for your non-vampire and non-Mara friends.”
“That was very thoughtful of you, Emilian, thank you,” Jax replied with a nod as he took his seat at the other end of the table, while we sat down on either side of him.
The Five Lords had been joined by Rewa, who had now changed into a delicate pink chiffon gown, and another Mara we didn’t recognize. His ruffled reddish hair and the shape of his jade green eyes were similar to Rowan’s, so I assumed there was a relation there.
The table had been set neatly, with a fine white tablecloth with golden embroidery on the edges, crystal glasses, and fine porcelain dinnerware. A beautiful floral arrangement was set in the middle, with golden ribbons and ivory-colored blossoms.
The Imen went about their table services, pouring water and blood from different gold-brushed pitchers.
“This is Vincent, of House Roho,” Emilian said, as the unidentified Mara sat up and gave us a curt nod. He wore a yellowish green three-piece suit with fine gold embroidery and a white, high-collared shirt which he’d paired with a pale green silk ascot.
We all nodded in return, and Vincent took his seat next to Rowan.
“He is my son,” Rowan said, “and Sienna’s brother. I believe Rewa has already told you about my daughter.”
We didn’t say anything, watching the Five Lords, Rewa, and Vincent as food was brought out from the kitchen and laid on the table in gold-plated warming dishes. We helped ourselves to our hearts’ desires—I opted for a bloody mix rich in sweet and peppered spices, as did the rest of our vampire crew, while Caia, Blaze, Hansa, and Patrik settled for slices of roasted meats and vegetables. I couldn’t eat any of that, but even I had to admit it smelled good.