Songbird

I was writing by the fire when Ethan strode into the Library, heading straight for Brit. Her face lit up and she reached for his hands, beaming. Silhouetted in the moonlight of the Library’s large window a passerby would have thought they were a paradigm of love. A touch of his cheek, and kisses. A long pale finger brushing back her hair, and kisses again.

Ethan barely noticed me. I don’t even think he realized how intently I was studying him, debating whether to ask him the question that burned within me. I gazed at Brit for a long moment and made my decision, even though I knew at heart she would disapprove. They were talking about the fireplace, how Brit loved it. I waited till a lull in the conversation then asked, “Ethan…you have been a warrior, haven't you?”

He looked at me curiously. “I have fought in many wars, seen several empires rise and fall and believe I could attribute to myself a warrior background. It is not what defines me, but it is surely a part of me, Joah.”

I nodded. “What things did you fight for, Ethan?” I glanced at the fire, watching the flames flicker, then turned to watch Ethan and Brit again.

Ethan looked at me with an intrigued expression. “Not that I understand what triggered this question, but since you ask, it was mainly issues of faith, loyalty and duty Joah. At some points to defend the righteous path, at other times to ensure prolonged existence.” He inched closer to Brit and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her and caressing her fingertips one by one.

A sudden knock on the Library door disrupted the conversation. Pix Cazalet had come in looking for a book on Necromancy. She wanted to command the spirits of the dead. Brit bounced excitedly when she saw Pix, who was wearing a skirt made by Brit and Ethan’s seamstress. She happily agreed to help Pix find her book, going straight to the real magicks section of the library, past Road Kill Puppets and on to Necromancy.

I focused again on Ethan as Pix and Brit pulled down various books, studying each one. “I was just wondering, Ethan. You've lived so long…when you fought for your faith…did you fight to protect those who were persecuted?"

“It depended on why they were persecuted Joah.” Ethan had turned back to me, but his entire frame indicated that his primary focus was on his wife, Brit. “I will not lie about this, Joah. I have personally persecuted and imprisoned, even slaughtered for issues of faith. It depended on which side they were.” He lapsed into silence for a moment. “The crusades were not a time of impeccable ethics.”

I listened quietly as he spoke. Finally, I replied, “It’s good to know that that you’ve changed, Ethan. That you’re no longer a man who persecutes others or imprisons unjustly.”

Ethan’s dark eyes narrowed for a moment. “I never said it was unjustly done...it was questionable at times in, retrospect, but I am glad to not have too many regrets for most of my coordinated actions of the past.”

I studied him for a moment before speaking, trying to carefully gauge the impact of my words. “You know…a prison, no matter how lovely, is still a prison, Ethan.”

“I’ve never seen a lovely prison, Joah. Of course that would depend on how you define a prison. For example, being imprisoned would involve being held against ones will, correct?” Ethan flexed his muscles and fine mist engulfed his body.

I lowered my eyes, gathering courage, then met Ethan’s gaze. There are few I truly fear in the City; Ethan is one. What I needed to say must be said with care. “When I was on the mainland,” I began, “I heard the song of a beautiful bird. It was thrilling and high and sweet and lovely, the song coming from behind a garden wall. I walked over and peered through the gate.

“I saw a garden full of roses and jasmine. In the center of the garden was a beautiful cage. It was large, ornate…gilded and gleaming. There were perches and food and beautiful little toys inside…. On its perch inside the cage, was a pure white bird. It's feathers cascaded over the perch. It sang the most heartbreakingly beautiful song as an old man dressed in a morning suit cooed and tended it.

“I asked the man why he kept the song bird in the cage. He said it was because he loved her and wanted always to hear her sing…he wished her to come to no harm.

“But the thing is…she could never test her wings. And he could never see her fly.” I continued to watch Ethan carefully. “So was it a prison? Didn’t the songbird love being with her keeper? Didn’t he love her? I'm certain they both did…but she never flew.”

Ethan listened to my story, shifting his weight from side to side. “Ah,” he nodded, “So the old man was missing a vital part of the equation: the nature of the animal in the cage. Now that is very unfortunate, one must see their loved one’s strengths, weaknesses and gifts, and allow them to explore them.” He paused. “That was certainly a prison. If the bird was happy in it though we will never know. Maybe the song was so beautiful because it was an intricate cry for help trying to entice someone to rescue her.” He pauses again. “It is fortunate humans don't have such problems and can express themselves freely.”

In the meantime Brit was helping Pix choose her book then complete a library card application. Pix left satisfied with what she had chosen, and Brit wandered back over to the fire. I gazed at her, such a sweet and beautiful songbird. I looked back toward Ethan, “Perhaps the keeper of the garden was simply too afraid to see what would happen should his little bird spread her wings and fly,” I said quietly.

Ethan blinked and replied, “Well, we will never know if the garden keeper was telling the truth when he spoke to you, but also won't be able to know his motives. The fact remains, he was ignoring her nature. She was not a gramophone but a bird,” he smirked slightly.

I took a deep breath before going to the heart of the matter. “Ethan, last night Brit was making a list.”

His expression softened. “My wife was working on a list...that is so typical of her lately, I am getting so many lists about the Shelter from her, it makes me wonder if she begins to develop an organizational mastermind.” He grinned and looked over to Brit again.

“She was working on a list, Ethan,” I said quietly, “because she can no longer leave your resting place when you sleep. Her wings have been clipped.” I lowered my eyes to the ground, speaking as respectfully as I possibly could. “The list was for things she might need…cookies…crayons….paper….”

I looked up and could see Brit processing. “That's so I don't forget things, Joah,” Brit said, a trace of worry on her face. Nibbling her lower lip, she reached for Ethan's hand, thinking and puffing her cheeks slightly.

Ethan tilted his head to the side. “Why would you say her wings have been clipped?” His face began to harden. “I keep her by my side as a husband should do with his wife. She stays by my side, as a wife should do. These things we promised to Him. I simply keep her with me and make sure none can enter our resting place especially in light of the recent events. Again, when I was not present and she was in the streets. I would prefer to see her safe. It was fortunate Lorne was here to deal with the offensive werewolf.”

I looked seriously at Ethan. “It is well that you love her and that you wish her to be by your side. I know that she wishes it too. But what if she needs something you can’t? What if there were an accident in your rooms, while you slept?” I paused for a moment trying to frame my words carefully. “What if she was needed here? And Ethan…she is not a child. She is a woman. Your wife…but not…a slave, or a prisoner…or song bird in a cage....”

Brit frowned slightly and looked at me. She whispered, “Between beloveds, Joah.” She turned her head, looked out the window and slipped her arm around Ethan. I could tell she was unsure what to say, but she puffed her cheeks again, slowly processing.

Ethan closed his eyes for a prolonged moment. Little sparks, similar to the coals in the fireplace shone through his eyelids, before he opened them again, his eyes looking normal. Inwardly, I drew back, but I held my ground. “If my wife needs something,” Ethan said in an even voice, “I can supply it or she can acquire it in the time I am active. An accident in our room will not happen, because of the rituals I painstakingly made sure to protect us within it. I am a vampire Joah, a species hunted for centuries. I know how to keep my haven safe.”

His words had come out in a rush. He paused a bit, and then continued at a calmer pace. “If my wife is required in the library, I hope it is not too much to ask for her to be able to come when her husband is around. Surely you would not do anything that required my absence.” Ethan’s expression seemed calm again, but his tone made it obvious he was sharing information, not waiting for approval.

I breathed in deeply and faced squarely from my seat by the fire. I knew that that Brit had said this was between beloveds, but Ethan’s use of restraints warred at me. I caught his eye, imploring him without a trace of anger. “It is wrong, Ethan.” I lowered my head respectfully and spoke barely above a whisper. “Even if it is done for love's sake…it is wrong.”

Brit stammered, “J.J...Joah!” She bit her lip and said, “Between beloveds...just...between beloveds.” She blinked slowly and struggled for words. Turning back to Ethan, she looped her arm around him and says simply, “Ethan keeps me safe...and...is my husband...and....” So many things were pouring into her thoughts.

Ethan clenched his fists. The artery on his throat pumped visibly as he repeated over and over, “Wrong....” He kept Brit's hand in his and looked at the fireplace for some moments, then turns to me, forcing my eyes up with his gaze.

“I will not be told what is right and wrong in a matter that is strictly between Brit and me, Joah. Your input in this is appreciated but not required. I will not try to change your mind, though any further mentioning of this idea you have of....” he trailed the sentence off before adding, “wrong...will be considered interfering.

“Do not judge, not to be judged. I do not wish to start counting off the things going on in this library that are most definitely wrong...yet I do not mention them out of, not ignorance, but knowledge of my place and rights.”

He emphasized the word “rights.” Ethan looked to Brit and his fingers relaxed again, reaching for her face to caress her cheek.

I raised my head, watching Ethan as he spoke, an indefinable sadness washing through me. I said nothing for a moment after he finished. I simply stood up, watching him. Finally, I whispered, “As you wish, Ethan.” I gazed a Brit a long moment, then turned around and headed quietly upstairs.

Brit and Ethan's Perspective: The Nature of Beasts

The seed knows its time

I hugged Brit and kissed her lightly on the cheek in greeting. The ocean from the sea wall was nearly beautiful, a swirl of toxic green and blue. Brit looked across the water, “It is way pretty here,” she sighed, “I think Toxia is most pretty.” Brit was right; the green blinked kaleidoscope-like over the blue water.

“You see beauty in everything, Brit,” I marveled.

“I don’t know, Joah, but it looks like a moving painting. So beautiful.” Brit’s fiery hair whipped in the wind. “Several people asked me . . . um . . . why we were married in Toxia . . . but . . . I thought the church was beautiful . . . and we live in Toxia. I’m glad Ethan did not pick anywhere else.”

I smiled at the new bride. “All weddings are beautiful, Brit. You and Ethan chose well.” The swirling water drew my focus away from Brit for a moment. “Pity that what is so beautiful is also so deadly,” I mused. “But that’s the nature of evil isn’t, it? Lucifer, son of the morning. . . .”

“I don’t really understand evil, Joah.” Brit lisped quietly. “People have told me that Vlad is evil, but he has only been kind to me.”

I do not know Vlad. I have seen him, seen the respect and fear he engenders, and seen Brit’s fondness for him. But then again, Brit sees beauty in everything. “He has always protected you and that is good. So perhaps there is some good in him. I don’t understand much of the ways of vampires, the Lady included.”

Brit began to smile and talk rapidly. “I’ve never seen him do anything horrible. He made me toys that moved. And colored with me. And gave me things just because he wanted me to have them. He helped me make a necklace that protected me . . . and always kept ice cream in his home for me. He told all of those who lived with him that I was welcome and protected. Vlad calls me his one good deed. He told all of those who lived there with him that I was welcome and protected. Vlad calls me his spawn and says I was his one good deed.”

I could not help but be drawn to the necklace around Brit’s throat. The glimmer of it both attracted and repelled me, as always. Every time I’ve tried to touch it, an indefinable something holds me back. I lifted my hand to try again, felt the same old uneasiness and dropped my hand quickly to my side. The necklace made by others for Brit. “Vlad is your father?”

Brit bit her lower lip. “I don't know," she worried. "Ethan said I should not tell anyone he said that.” She paused. “Do not say it to anyone. Okay?” She shrugged a bit, face frowning in concentration. “Pars said my parents were mortal, human like me.” I watched as Brit began shifting back and forth in agitation. “Pars took me from the hospital to the garden the day I was born.”

I had heard this story before. And again, I was puzzled about Pars and his theft of the baby Brit. The theft that Brit always seemed to take for granted as natural in the course of things. Perhaps a theft from Vlad. “How old is Vlad, Brit? How long as he been as he is?” I searched for words, trying to formulate the thoughts in my mind. “He must have been human at one time.”

“Oh, Vlad is very old. Older than Ethan. Ethan was a monk when he was mortal, for Constantine the First.”

I considered this. Vlad’s time as man born of earth would have been far too long ago for him to sire Brit. But I also knew there are other ways of fathering. “It is not,” I began slowly, “unheard of for a vampire to father a child.” I wondered how to explain this to Brit so that she would understand. “Have you ever heard of Elkiminus?”

Brit shook her head with puzzlement. “Ethan said his kind do not reproduce.”

“No, generally they do not.” How best to explain? “But Elkiminus . . . they’re half spirit, half vampire. Invisible. They possess human beings in order to take on corporeal form.”

Brit considered this for a moment. “Vlad . . . is . . . um…he is not a typical vampire. He is many and one.”

I thought of Legion and the thousands of souls in it. “What do you mean, Brit?”

Brit began to drift a bit. “He keeps those who have gone alive. Like Dr. Harlow. And Olivia. And he gives all kinds of presents. He gave Ethan a seed.”

I shifted from foot to foot, trying to find a way into Brit’s inner thoughts. I had no idea who Dr. Harlow and Olivia were, nor did I understand the seed given to Ethan. “So the seed was Vlad’s present to Ethan? Did it make him happy?”

But, as is so often the case with Brit, the moment was lost. Overtaken by the thought of Vlad’s gifts, Brit pulled a small mannequin from her pack. A toy, I thought at first, animated, yet there was no key in his back. He stepped lightly in her hand, as though he were a courtier attending the throne of a monarch.

Brit held him out to me and as he crossed in to my palm, I pushed a bit toward him. I was both shocked and surprised; this was no toy. I felt prana. But he was not unhappy. He twirled in my hand as I blew him a kiss. He walked seriously back to Brit’s hand, gave me a salute, and then leapt into her pack.

She then began coloring for me, suns and roses and happy pictures, un'impressione sull'aria. There would be no more talk of fathers and seeds today.

Brit, there is so much I want to know about you. Though you say not, you are far from ordinary. Your seemingly unintended arrival in the city . . . I suspect it was no mere coincidence and that Vlad wanted you here. Your necklace. The seed. You are a puzzle box and I want to find the key.