35. Flesh and Blood
It was her second day in the room. Initially, the pure excitement from using her new tool had blinded Naomi to her frightening surroundings. Now here she was again, in a dark cellar made of brick and stone. The cement floor and the bottom of the walls were stained with some dark liquid which traced a path to a grimy drain in the corner. A single dim light bulb continued to glow, giving the room a musty, unsettling ambiance. With the iron door locked behind her, she was all alone.
Or was she? Naomi's concentration had been broken multiple times because she kept hearing strange noises. At first she thought it was that little girl who followed Grayson around, but after thrusting open the door behind her, she kept finding the hallway empty. Yet the sounds persisted.
Naomi rested. She was shivering with her arms at her sides, sweat running down her face and smearing her makeup. She couldn't close her eyes anymore; it made her too scared – as if someone was going to creep up and grab her.
It reminded her so much of before. The dripping of water in the distance, the sounds of vermin moving across the floor, and the creak of the floorboards when her mother moved around upstairs. It was all coming back now.
"You're going to have to stay down here for a while, Naomi," her mother hissed, "because you did something very bad."
"What did I do, Mommy?" The six-year old Naomi stared up with large green eyes.
Mommy didn't answer, and the door to the basement shut with a click. Naomi made her way downstairs, trying to balance herself with her small, broken wrist. She had fallen off a chair when she was eating her breakfast, and it hurt badly. Mommy didn't like when she cried, but she just couldn't help it. The pain wouldn't let go of her.
She wiped the tears from her eyes with her other hand and stepped down into the darkness. She tripped halfway down and tumbled down the stairs. Her small body hit the ground with a painful crunch. It really hurt now, more than ever, and she crawled to the wall, leaned up against it and wept softly.
After a long, long time, her mother still hadn't come back, and Naomi was getting thirsty. It wasn't the first time she had been down here, and it wouldn't be the last. As time went on, she found things to do in the underground, and she made up her own friends. They were people of the shadows who lived down in the basement, and were always happy when Naomi came to visit them. They brought her an old dusty bible from a shelf in the corner. They told her the truth of what her mother was really doing.
One of her shadows spoke to her. "Do you see the bottles she carries around, Naomi?"
Naomi nodded.
"It does things to her, Naomi," another said. "It makes her mean."
"Do you see the men she brings in, Naomi?"
"They make her want to hurt you."
Naomi listened, and as time went on, and she grew older, her innocent fear was transformed into something else. By the age of seven, she became accustomed to living in isolation. It was okay, because she had her friends, and most of all, she had God to light her way. The fear that Naomi swallowed down when she was first tossed into the cellar by her mother slowly transformed into anger, and then into strength, a blind righteousness aimed at anyone who dared to threaten her.
Naomi could feel it now coursing through her veins, and she opened her eyes back up, watching for any sort of movement from the thing that wanted to get her.
God is on my side...and no one can stop me.
Her fingers spasmed, and four hardened balls of psynergy materialized around her body. Naomi whirled her fingers around rhythmically, knocking them between the walls.
God is on my side.
*
Sweat poured down Vance's face as he stared up at Averyl, shivering on the edge of the cliff. The tall dark phantom stared down at him with pitch black eyes.
"Tell me," Vance sputtered, "how you know my mother's name!"
"You know..." Averyl cooed. "I'm not supposed to talk until you've finished your training."
Vance waited.
Averyl sighed. "I suppose it can't hurt. It should motivate you, at least..."
He sat down next to Vance, crossing his legs neatly beneath his voluminous black cloak.
Averyl slid his fingernails under the topmost layer of the skin under his chin and slowly peeled it upwards. As the seemingly fake skin peeled off, Averyl’s previously chiseled, statue-like face was replaced with a sharp chin, a long thin, nose, and soft cheeks. Next, to Vance's horror, Averyl moved two fingers up to his eyes and pressed them inwards.
His fingers stuck onto his eyes, and he pulled. The blackness that had completely covered his eyeballs now appeared to be some sort of gum-like coating. Averyl yanked his fingers back farther, stripping the dark substance off completely, then let the two oversized contact lenses fall into his hands.
Averyl looked down to Vance with his true eyes: white orbs each with a black ring around tiny, dark pupils.
"I know Victoria well..." he sighed, looking down at Vance with a flicker of sadness. "She’s my big sister."
As Vance choked on his own surprise, Averyl could no longer hold his laughter back. Vance looked closer at the contours in Averyl's pale white skin: his long, thin nose, his sanguine lips. Arched eyebrows as ink black as his flowing hair rose up with punctuated emotion. He looked so much like her, but even more than that...he looked like an older version of Vance.
"You mean," Vance croaked, "you're...my..."
Averyl abruptly stopped laughing. "Uncle?"
Vance gaped. He was staring at the person who possibly knew his mother better than anyone, even his own father. They had most likely grown up together from childhood, went to school together, quarreled together...here was the man who knew everything about the person Vance loved more than any other.
"So..." Vance pulled himself up, sitting side by side with Averyl. "My mother really wasn't from Earth."
"Indeed..." Averyl responded, an excited gleam in his eye. "Victoria Vance was the daughter of Malachai and Lucrecia Vance. I am Averyl Vance, their second child, born on October 31st, six years after her. You are Vance Darcouver, the only son of Edward and Victoria Darcouver, born on May 7th, on Earth. You and I, Vance, are the last descendants of our race: the Albavitreans."
"The what?"
"The Albavitreans..." Averyl went on. "They named us for our peculiar eyes. Our white irises... "
The fact that Vance was only half human passed lightly over him. He had bigger concerns. "Where is she?" Vance shot out, staring at Averyl with dire eyes.
"I don’t know," Averyl paused. "But before she disappeared, she told me she was going to confront some people."
"Who?" Vance’s eyes narrowed.
"The Dark Zodiacs." Averyl opened his eyes again, revealing a visage of rage. Just from the tone of his voice, Vance could tell that Averyl was indeed his uncle – that he loved Victoria as much as Vance did, if not more.
"But...then why are you working with them?!" Vance shouted.
Averyl took a deep breath. "They don't know that I'm her brother, Vance. I wear the black contacts, the mask, hide my psynergy and play the fool so that they cannot find out my true identity. Although it pains me to shed my ethnicity, it's a small price to pay for justice. It took me quite a long time to infiltrate their ranks, but I’m on the verge of earning their full trust. The one thing I never expected was that this journey would lead me to you..."
"Why did mom hide everything from me?" Vance asked, tears welling up in his eyes. "I’ve been so alone, my whole life..."
"You were still a child..." Averyl replied. "All Victoria ever told me was that she wanted you to live a life of peace."
"Finally..." Vance sighed. "Finally, someone who can understand me. All this time, I've–"
"You've become very good at feeling sorry for yourself, Vance..." Averyl cut in coldly. "But I am here to tell you: you know nothing. I live in darkness, Vance. My sister was most likely killed in cold blood, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Now, I live day after day in the presence of those who did the deed. Watching, waiting, studying..."
Tears began to pour from Vance’s eyes, and he crumbled, sobbing on his knees in front of his uncle.
Averyl raised his finger toward Vance's face. "I never expected us to meet like this, Vance...but I do see something inside you. If you're not willing to accept the fact that you are still nothing but an immature child, then I have no use for you. Train yourself, and together, we may be able to do something... We may be able to continue what your mother set out to do."
Another dark smile spread on Averyl's face, and Vance finally realized what sort of person his uncle truly was. It was a grin not of happiness, but of lunacy. Averyl had surely braved countless horrors to come this far – things that Vance couldn't even begin to comprehend.
"I'm sorry..." Vance said softly, tears mixing in with the sweat on his shirt. "What have I been doing? Mom was counting on me...I'm sorry...I'm sorry..."
Averyl placed his hands on his nephew's shoulders and brought him up.
"I'm an idiot." Vance raised his head up and stared at Averyl with teary, bloodshot, guilty eyes. "And I don't know how to be a good person."
"Forget about good," Averyl whispered. "Just focus on being brave, Vance. Brave enough to inherit the secrets of our race..."
"Please..." Vance choked up. "I want you to teach me, Averyl. Tell me everything you know. Help me become even half as strong as you are."
The two raven-haired men stared into each other's souls. Averyl gave Vance a confident nod, and Vance returned the expression as best he could.
"Good." Averyl placed his hand on Vance's head, and a crafty gleam returned to his eyes. "Now, shall we begin your training...for real this time?"
"Yes...Uncle."
*
Sagacia's moon finished its descent behind the tall mountains just as Eden, Cliff, and Azuka concluded their training for the day. After cooling down, Azuka bid her students farewell and returned to the Guild to take care of other business. Once again, Eden and Cliff were completely alone in the barren wasteland.
Just like every other night, Cliff cooked dinner and served it to Eden, who was exhausted from more intense training. He loved her so much, yet he still seemed so far away from her. And time was running out.
"Eden," Cliff called out. "I need to talk to you."
Eden looked toward him. "What's up, Cliff?"
"Eden, I can't hold it back any longer," Cliff said. "We're going to be together for weeks now...I can't keep this uncertainty going. I need to know for sure. How do you really feel about me?"
Eden stared back at Cliff in shock, unsure of what to say.
"I just want to be there for you whenever you need someone," Cliff said shakily. "What do you want?"
"I..." Eden stammered. "I'm sorry, Cliff."
Cliff's eyes wavered. "What?"
"I can't do this," Eden said with a despairing sigh.
"Can't do this? Can't do what?" Cliff's eyes widened. "You don't like me? Are you still angry about the kiss? I'm really sorry about that–"
"I didn't feel anything when you kissed me," Eden said, contorting her lips into a grimace. "I guess...I’m not ready for this. I like you, but...that's it, I guess."
A shiver ran up Cliff's spine. "You've never been in love?"
Eden stared back at him with frightened eyes. "No."
"And you aren't in love with me."
Eden took a deep breath.
Cliff turned around abruptly. "Forget it. Just forget this entire conversation happened. I’m sorry, Eden. This was wrong."
"Cliff, I'm sorry," Eden said. "I really am. Just sorry about this whole situation."
The Vice-Captain ignored her apologies. "When Captain Azuka returns, tell her I left to do some solo training."
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know," Cliff replied, moving off. "But I won't be back for a while."
Next: Transmogrification
