Untamed
Torches lit the narrow passage as they stepped deeper into the cave, and darkness faded away. “No need to be scared, dear,” Ila said, as if reading Myra’s mind. “I never harm humans.”
Myra gave her a sideways glance. “You are a most unusual vampire.”
Ila snorted. “I am a disgrace to vampires, or at least I’ve been told so. My own sire considers me her biggest mistake. Well, it’s not like I chose to be turned.”
“Very few have the privilege to choose to be turned,” Vlad said. “You could have adapted, like the rest of us.”
“Adapted?” Ila glared at him. “One day I have a family, I am happy, and I have long years of life ahead of me. And then, all of a sudden, I am dead, and I am supposed to feed on those I loved?”
Myra stared at Ila, as if seeing her for the first time. “So you refused to drink human blood? Is that possible?”
“Completely possible, as my brothers and sisters here can attest. We feed on animal blood—the taste is worse, and its magic is weaker, so we need to drink more. We could never reach the strength of human-drinking vampires, but we survive. And before the Nightfall, many of us used to steal blood from hospitals.”
“How noble and righteous,” Vlad said. “You claim you never harmed any human, and yet you stole blood donated for transfusions? Have you ever wondered if anyone died because they needed a transfusion and blood of the right type was missing just then, because of you? You murdered just the same, but as long as it is not with your own hands and fangs, it makes it all fine.”
“You didn’t murder humans just to survive,” Ila said. “You loved it. You reveled in being a vampire, embraced it completely and celebrated it. For me, being turned was a curse. I never turned anyone afterward, and I did all I could, short of plunging a stake through my own heart, to minimize the damage I would inflict.”
“So you fight on the side of humans?” Myra said. “And you hate the Prince because of the Nightfall and what he did, and not because of some past incident between you?”
To Myra’s surprise, they exited the tunnel and found themselves in a large clearing. She had expected the vampires to live underground, but she could now see large wooden structures in between the rocks. All of them looked recently built—so it was possible to create something after all. Vlad and his people were just being lazy.
“This is true,” Ila said, “Though Vladimir and I had met before, and my memories are not fond.”
“When did you meet?” Sissi asked. Just then, they reached a large metal double door, standing as tall as three grown men. It opened before them and a male vampire stepped out and bowed low.
Rich, orange light spilled over the bowing figure, and Myra couldn’t help but stare. She couldn’t pinpoint why, but he didn’t look like a vampire. Not that he lacked the good looks—not at all. Perhaps it was his short curly hair? Until today, Myra had seen only a handful of short-haired vampires. Or, perhaps it was his warm olive skin, which looked sun-kissed, even though she knew it was impossible.
He rose, and a warm smile spread across his face. “Welcome, dear humans. Please follow me to the dining hall.” He looked directly at her, as if Vlad wasn’t even there. Stars appeared to dance in his large, soulful eyes, and Myra wondered how someone dead could look so alive.
They followed him and stepped into a dining hall, bathed in soft light. “Please, join us at the table,” Ila said. “We can talk more once you are refreshed.”
They took seats, and a tall vampire approached them from behind, carrying heavy shackles that were connected to the wall with massive chains. Vlad flashed him a grin. “I thought you would think this necessary.” He stretched out his hands, letting their hosts chain him.
“It’s merely a precaution,” Ila said. “We don’t trust you.”
“Of course not,” the Prince said and sniffed suspiciously at the glass placed in front of him. “Wine with swine blood? Seriously? You drink blood from glasses? That’s pathetic. And do you think the wine can mask the smell of pig?”
“We are civilized here,” Ila said sternly. “We don’t suck the blood out of living beings.”
“Of course not,” the Prince said. “You merely squeeze the blood out of living beings. It makes all the difference.”
“You are trying my patience,” Ila said.
His lips stretched into a thin smile, and he bowed his head. “Forgive me. How disrespectful of me. Thank you for the delicious drink.”
“I hope there is no blood in my wine,” Myra said.
“Don’t worry,” Ila said. “We have human-friendly food and drinks for you two. But, Vladimir, the girls wanted to know how we two met. You don’t mind my telling them, do you? I doubt it’s something you are proud of.”
“It is most certainly not something I am ashamed of, as you seem to imply.” He looked at Myra and Sissi, who both sat to his right. “It happened around three decades after I had turned Armida. She loved being a vampire, but she never stopped seeking more excitement. One day, she said she wanted to come up with a game. She suggested that we try something—that we go to a human settlement and live among the humans for a while and pretend to be like them. She was curious to see when and if anyone would notice there was something different about us.”
“But how could you do it?” Sissi asked. “You could only be around humans at night, or if you were inside.”
“Exactly,” Vlad said. “This is why Armida came up with the brilliant idea to try our experiment with the Sami people in the northernmost parts of Scandinavia. We could go in winter, when the nights were long. I was impressed with her—just a couple of decades before, she had possessed no knowledge of the world beyond the borders of her own village.”
“Not to spoil your ideal, but most humans can grow much smarter and gain lots of knowledge in far shorter periods,” Ila said.
“Most humans do not know how to enjoy life the way she does,” said Vlad. “Anyway, she wanted to do it, but Tristan disagreed.”
Sissi’s eyes brightened. “Tristan was also with you at the time?”
Ila snorted. “You must know nothing of the Unholy Trinity to ask such a question.”
“Yes, he was,” Vlad said. “And you know how he is. He despised living among humans. He had hated it during his lifetime, and he saw no reason to return to it. But after they both presented their arguments, I grew to like Armida’s idea and took her side.”
“To my great misfortune,” Ila said.
“We went to live among the Sami,” Vlad continued. “We fished with them and herded reindeer with them. We helped them make knives and cups out of bone and antler and clothing out of reindeer leather and sinews. We learned their card and board games. But Armida’s wanderlust burned bright, and she wished to discover new places and people.
“And so we traveled east, crossing the White Sea Throat and trekking through the northwestern region of Russia, until we reached Siberia. We stayed with many tribes on our way—Nenets, Nganasans, Yakuts. Some tribes consisted of less than a hundred people, but they all spoke their own tongue and had their own way of life—breeding white and fluffy Samoyed dogs to pull their sledges across hills of sparkling snow and to herd their reindeer, worshipping animals and plants, rivers and rocks, battling huge and ferocious tundra wolves. We learned much from each, but eager to see more, we pushed on and on until we crossed the Bering Strait and settled for a time with the Inuit of Alaska.”
He smiled at Sissi, who looked as if her eyes were about to pop out. Myra wondered if Sissi’s made-up stories of the Prince’s life had ever touched on such travels.
“The Inuit were hospitable people, ready to assist three strangers lost in their lands,” Vlad continued. “They showed us all they knew, hunting and fishing, making clothes of caribou skin and seal guts. They taught us that although seals and polar bears were very nutritious, we could never eat the liver, or it would cause us to go mad and die. Naturally, I tried it, but it had no ill effects on me.
“I found living among them unique and enriching, and it was easy for us to keep up the pretense. Life was hard, especially in winter—you could lose a limb to frostbite, starve to death, or lose your way in the eternal darkness over the endless fields of snow—and so no one was overly surprised if someone went missing.
“Armida and I loved it, but Tristan hated every minute of it. Almost every minute, for there was this one young girl. His eyes brightened up every time she entered the igloo.” His eyes turned towards Ila, who sat at the table with her fingers clenched around her glass and her shoulders tense. “And so Armida decided to play matchmaker.”
Ila sipped from her pig blood mixed with wine and placed the glass on the table. “For those of you unfamiliar with the internal dynamics of the Unholy Trinity,” she said, “let me spell it out for you. Armida likes to be the center of attention. She grows anxious whenever the world isn’t revolving around her. And to her, it made sense she should have Vladimir’s undivided attention and occupy his every thought. She was jealous he was spending so much time with Blondie and wanted to find him a partner and take him out of the picture.”
“There is not a word of truth in what you said,” Vlad countered. “Armida loves Tristan dearly. She wanted him to be happy.”
“Right.” Ila rolled her eyes. “And so, Armida turned me, hoping that Tristan and I would become a couple and leave on our own way.”
“She never wanted us to part ways with you and Tristan,” Vlad said.
She snorted. “Armida turned me and, in her arrogance, gave me the name Ila, which in my tongue means ‘companion.’ I was to be a companion to Tristan, nothing more.”
“It’s not your real name?” Myra said, surprised. “Why did you let her decide what you should be called?”
“I didn’t,” Ila said. “At least, not at first. But after I became a vampire, I had to leave my tribe and go out into the world. You see, my birth name is Tukkuyummavungga. I wanted to keep it, to preserve a part of my identity and not let myself be assimilated into that melting pot the world had become. Yet I needed a name people could remember, or at least pronounce.
“I felt uncomfortable choosing my own name.” She threw Vlad a pointed look. “And so, I took the one my sire had given me. It was simple, and it still belonged to my culture. And, whatever else Armida is, she is still my sire.” She looked at Myra and Sissi. “You see, humans, it’s hard for a vampire to separate themselves from their sire. The bond is strong and always remains, whether you wish it or not.”
She tore her gaze from the humans and stared at the dark blood in her cup. Her brown eyes seemed to look somewhere far beyond the thick liquid. “All of this was in vain, of course, for Armida’s plan never came to be. She hoped Tristan and I could be together, but I was not interested.”
“You weren’t interested in Tristan?” Sissi blurted out and turned a deep shade of pink as all eyes turned towards her. “I mean, we’re talking about the same Tristan, right?”
“And why would I be interested?” Ila said. “He was a self-absorbed, heartless bloodsucker. There wasn’t a single thing about him I could like. I am not some starry-eyed schoolgirl to fall for his brooding good looks.”
Myra’s hand flew to the itching bite mark on her neck. Ila had been her age when she had become a vampire, and yet she had been strong and mature enough to resist the lure of darkness. Would Myra have done the same?
Vlad smiled. “You know, many would have killed to be in your position.”
“And I would have killed to get out of it,” Ila said. “But the past is the past. Let us look to the future. You mentioned destroying the WeatherWizard, and I know exactly how we could do that.”
“Please enlighten me, then,” Vlad said. “You dismissed all my suggestions before I had even voiced them, so I assume you have a better idea?”
“My problem is not the actual destruction,” Ila said. “This is a technicality. My true problem was ensuring your support and getting a guarantee that you wouldn’t betray me. And now I have it,” she said, fingering his chains. “You are our prisoner. We will send word to Armida and Tristan and ask for their cooperation. They will do exactly what I want, if they wish to see you alive.”