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Preston is the man of the hour as I summon him to Provence. It’s common ground. The only place in all the realms everyone can go and sharp vampire ears aren’t listening, hanging on each word. It’s the only place I might get a straight answer, except for Lols, which is also common ground but too obvious as we’d have to portal.
The day traders roll out their tents and tables. Elves stack their remedies and hang fabrics into a pretty display that rivals the faes’ showy potions and colorful bottles. The dragons aren’t nearly as concerned. Small electronics are stacked on the table with a catalogue. The wolves are even less concerned as they unload a few items from the back of a vehicle, leaving it open for people to shop. Others are available to take orders.
Provence is a flurry of activity as traders peddle their goods and shoppers bounce from one place to another, some there for one purpose whether it is Verboten jewelry, Aradian fabric, or a blood sample they want traced by vampires.
A tap on my shoulder catches my attention as I spin around to face a young woman in a large hat that shades most of her face, her golden-green eyes barely visible yet mesmerizing. She hands me a note, her gaze flicking over my shoulder. I take it.
“This better be good,” Preston says. I don’t spin to look him in the face as my eyes follow the young woman. Medium height, round ass, solid-muscled thighs evidenced in her tight jeans, but it’s her eyes more than her build that says everything. She is a hybrid of some sort - or sorts. I stuff the note into my pocket as Preston takes a step to my side.
His expression firm, thin lines web his eyes displaying his dismay. I meet him with a smile. “Good morning to you too,” I say, walking past him towards the center.
I’m not about to get talked into going to Drakonia. Provence is neutral and this is a neutral matter.
He paces at my side. “I’ve had better. What’s this about?”
In such a rush. Get down to business and forget the niceties. I guess that is his, or the Drakonian, way. Admitting it to myself, I can be that way too. “Provence always looks and smells the same. I can’t say it’s a better morning than any other, but I have a feeling today will be a good day.”
“I see you’re feeling better,” he says, noting how I freely move my arms as I speak.
I don’t mince words, down to business. “I healed mighty quick. Which vampire’s blood is running through my veins?”
Irritated, he scowls. “That’s a rumor.”
We reach the center, passing several groups on their way to one or more vendors. “Is it? Explain how I’m healed then.”
His face carries the same guilty expression a child’s does when they get caught red-handed. “It was only a drop. It doesn’t work the same as if they’d tasted your blood. The connection will wear off with time.”
That makes me feel so much better! “Whose?” I demand, keeping my voice to a low growl.
He throws his gaze toward the Drakonian tent. “Not here.” He grabs my arm and pulls me towards Sier. We step through the curtain. A teal light envelopes us and vanishes on the highest peak in Sier. Sticky snow falls from the sky and a chill tingles my bones. I’m used to cold, living in Thraves, but this is the most frigid place in the middle realms. I create a warm bubble around us.
“An aged vampire.”
That’s it? He thinks he’s going to get off that easy? Most of them are aged. The selection would be less if he said a young vampire. “Which one?” I don’t keep my voice low as I demand an answer.
He shakes his head and clucks his tongue. “I couldn’t tell you if I knew.”
Fine. He can play that game. I have another one for him. “I know Drakonian secrets, one is pumping through my veins. I’ll keep them secret if you’ll help me out.”
Hurt covers his face. Why are realm walkers so loyal to purebloods that don’t treat them as equals? “You want to black mail me?”
“I’m tired of pointless jobs, being underappreciated, not being able to use the full hilt of my power. It’s like hiding a part of myself. I don’t have my own place to live and I can’t even vote like every other member of the realm. I’m not alone. Four other realm walkers are already with me and we’re collecting hybrids.”
“What do you plan on doing?” his voice carries an unmistakable edge of skepticism.
“Protest. We’re organizing a protest. You’re older, have more connections, know more hybrids. It’s not a secret that Drakonia is a safe haven for hybrids and that vampires portal them to Lols for a fee in their efforts to escape the brutality of the purebloods towards hybrids.”
“If any of them are willing to go along with your crazy scheme, they’ll be banished without memories.”
“That’s why we need a big crowd, thousands.”
His face pinches. “Your mother will have my head on a stick for this. Why can’t you just accept the destiny you were born into?”
“I do accept it!” my voice rises in anger. “It’s others who can’t accept us. We are strong. We can change the destiny of the realms. We were made to keep the peace but what good is that peace if all we do is mundane jobs? Why not use our power to unite all realms and vanquish all the veils between them and pull up the curtains forever?”
Preston rubs a hand along his chin as my words and passion sink in. When he finally speaks his words aren’t what I expect. “You’re different, always have been. Your sentiments have been echoed throughout time by every realm walker that ever lived.” His words sound as if he knows these ancient realm walkers personally. “I’ll help you if you promise me one thing...no violence. This is done peacefully.”
That is the plan. I’m surprised how easily the man caved. I still have every intention of finding out which vampire’s blood is running through my veins and I have the connections at CIU to make it happen.
“One more thing. The vampire can’t track you. They will see and hear your interactions and...feel your emotions.”