The Lonely Blade

Chapter Five

Victor stared at the customer in front of him with a strong feeling of unease, the hairs on the back of his neck rising, his stomach twisting. The man was not normal, it was blatantly clear to Victor's elven senses. But just what was wrong, he couldn't quite tell.

"I'm here to see Xenon," he said to Victor, his voice completely devoid of emotion. The sound of it grated against Victor's nerves in a chilling way.
"Uh, I'll go get him," Victor muttered. The strange man inclined his head as Victor escaped qiuckly to the back room. "Xenon! There's. . . well I don't know if someone is the right word."
"How rude," said the man from right behind him, causing Victor to yelp and jump away. The man just blinked at him.
"Sebastien Stalin," Xenon came downstairs at that moment. "What can I do for you?"
"I have a delivery for you."
"Perfect," said Xenon, gesturing to his office. "Right this way."
Victor watched the man leave with Xenon, trying to figure out why he bothered Victor's senses so much. Something was wrong, strange. . . no, missing. Nauseated as he realized the truth behind the man's problem, Victor backed away into the front of the shop, his hand over his mouth trying to keep his stomach down.
The man was a Soulless.

Xenon took the box from Sebastien and placed it in the vault. "One more clue," he whispered as he closed it. Then he looked at Sebastian. Cool blue eyes stared back at him without consern or pride or warmth. There was nothing behind those eyes. They said that the eyes were the windows to the soul. . . if one had a soul. Which Sebastian didn't.
"How is your mistress?" Xenon asked. If Sebastien had his soul, he would have been angered or offended at the question. But Sebastien felt nothing.
"She is well." The other male offered nothing else. The sorceress who held Sebastien's soul would only give it back once the warrior had performed one hundred years of service to her. Xenon thought she was a heartless bitch who liked to ensalve men. Fortunately, this was Sebastien's final year of service to said bitch. Just then Xenon heard Nagendra speaking to him, the snake's voice filled with anger and concern.
"Xenon, get rid of the Soulless. Out the back way. Now."
"I look foward to the day I look into your eyes and see you Sebastien."
"I will come to you as promised," Sebastien agreed. "I always keep my promises."
With any other man, Xenon would have placed a hand on their shoulder. But this was Sebastien, and even Xenon couldn't bear touch him. Just being in the presence of a Soulless was bad enough. Which reminded him he'd need to check on Victor and Vincent. Elves were especially sensitive to the aura of cold and hollow that the Soulless gave off. "Until next time, Sebastien."
The Soulless left out the back door that Xenon guided him to, silent as ever. And still, try as he might, Xenon could not See anything in the man's future but a hollow black nothing.

Nagendra knew the Soulless was here and so did Vincent. The unnerved elf rubbed his chest and mumbled something about needing a hot drink. Nagendra could taste the coldness in the air, and it made him gag, fighting not to vomit. When a Soulless was around, it was like being near icy black hole, a void that seemed to suck up everything warm and good. They were like the Demetors from Harry Potter, just without the soul-sucking Kiss thing. It weakened many, even someone like Nagendra. So he sat at the table and put his head down, trying to control the reaction until the Soulless left. But it was as Vincent was making a coffee that Nagendra looked up, a realization taking shape in his mind.
"Make that two," he said. "I'll take it down to Victor." Vincent just nodded and got a second cup, preparing a second drink the way his brother liked it. As soon as it was finished, Nagendra grabbed it and headed downstairs, avoiding the office where the Soulless was. Instead he made his way to the front of the store, where Victor would be. What he saw made his insides clench unplesantly.
Victor was no longer standing, instead he seemed to have collapsed and was leaning against the wall his hand over his heart. His breath came in short sharp gasps and he looked pale and sick. "Victor!"
Nagendra put the cup down on the floor and sat next to Victor. Without thinking, he put his arms around the elf, who—despite the shivers wracking his sleek muscular frame—was boiling hot. Nagendra sucked in a breath as Victor's overheated forehead came into contact with his much cooler neck. Victor's grip on his shirt was so weak it scared Nagendra. Vincent had merely been unsettled by the proximity of the Soulless, but Victor had to be Sensitive to have such a reaction. Either that, or he'd touched It. "Victor, can you hear me?"
No response other than more shivering. Nagendra closed his eyes and reached for the power that resided in his body. He rarely used it anymore, for it reminded him too much of his past, but he needed it now. Victor needed it. The shop lights went out, the door locked, the signs appeared inside and the 'open' sign flipped to 'closed'. Then Nagendra spoke quietly, but firmly. "Xenon, get rid of the Soulless. Out the back way. Now."
That done, he focused on Victor, providing the warmth the elf's soul needed. Gasping in shock at the sudden frigid feeling of an old pain, Nagendra wondered what the hell had happened to Victor in the past to create such a deep hurt. Thankfully, a few seconds later, the feeling of hollowness and cold began to fade, much to Nagendra's relief. Xenon did not interupt them and Nagendra knew he'd gone to check on Vincent.
"Nagendra?" Victor's voice sounded weak and unsure. "What happened?"
Nagendra didn't let him go. "What do you remember?"
"There was a man, he was so cold, I could feel myself being sucked into it. . . I was. . . so cold," he shivered.
"I do not believe that to be a man. It is a Soulless, and you had an extreme reaction to It." Soulless caused discomfort to everyone around them, even mortals. To look into the eyes of a Soulless was to stare into an cold empty void. No emotions, no hopes, no dreams.
Nothing.
The only person exempt to this feeling was the one who held the soul. It was truly a heartless bastard who took away the soul of another.
"Soulless?" Victor's weak voice broke into Nagendra's dark thoughts. "Here?"
"Yes, yes It was. Once, It was a man known as Sebastien. A great and noble warrior who pledged his heart to the wrong woman. She stole his soul."
"Who?"
Nagendra picked up the coffee Vincent had made and handed it to Victor. "Drink this," he commanded. "All of it. As to your question. . . who cares? It's gone now."
"Thank you," Victor mumbled weakly as he drank deep of the coffee. "I'm feeling a bit better, but. . ."
Nagendra sat up straighter and took the half emptied mug from Victor's unresisting grip. "Hold still and for all-the-gods sake, don't freak out or pull away."
"What are you—?"
Victor's question was cut off as Nagendra gripped his chin and kissed him. But rather than it feeling intimate or sexual, Victor could feel warmth returning to his soul, chasing out the cold that the presence of the Soulless had instilled in him. Nagendra was literally breathing warmth back into him, Victor realized with a jolt. It took him a few moments to realize that Nagendra had pulled away and was pressing the coffee back into his hands. "How did you—what was that?"
"Do you feel better? Nagendra asked.
"Yes," Victor nodded sitting up on his own, instantly regretting the action as it removed him from Nagendra's embrace. "But—"
"Don't worry about it," Nagendra blew him off. Victor took one look at Nagendra's face and knew that the strange shifter wasn't going to say anything more on the subject. Victor sipped his coffee, and mused on what had just happened. He would find out exactly who and what Nagendra was. He'd been called hard-headed and stubborn by many. He'd always thought it a compliment though, as it was the defining Isla familial trait. He was going to put that trait to use, focussing it on Nagendra.
The snake wouldn't know what hit him.

The taste of blood in his mouth was a foul coppery one, and Villem spat it onto the floor is disgust just as the door opened and Ylva walked in. In her delicate hands was a clean bowl of water.
"I do not like the taste of blood, unlike that vampire." He'd heard Lowell abusing the man in the cell next door, heard too, who the vampire was. Lowell must be completely insane to kidnap vampiric royalty. Heir to the throne no less—the Prince Erkan. The vampire population had to be going crazy, or 'bat-shit' as Victor would have said. The feeling of depression increased as Villem thought of his younger brothers. There was no doubt in Villem's mind that they thought him dead, just like their parents.
"I'm sorry about that, not much I can do," Ylva's soft voice was like a balm against the darkness, sadness and pain. Her touch came a few moments later, increasing the feeling of warmth. Ylva didn't have anything to say, but she presssed the cloth to his lips first, allowing him the small secret drink that was her only possible gift to him. Villem was grateful for it and when he opened his eyes and smiled at her, Ylva couldn't help but return his smile. This man was her true mate, not Lowell. She already had a plan in mind for how to free not only Villem, but Erkan and maybe even herself too, thanks to Villem's complaint. Cleaning him very carefully, she bade him goodnight and walked right into the vampire's cell next door.
"Thirsty Your Highness?" her whisper was barely a breath, but she knew his superior hearing had picked it up. Without waiting for a response, she pressed the cloth, tinged pink with Villem's blood against Erkan's mouth. The prince's eyes widened as he realized there was blood mixed in with the water and he sucked quickly. "When you are strong, free Villem and I," she stared at him, hoping. After what seemed like an eternity, the vampire nodded.
'Soon.' Ylva thought as she cleaned up the vampire. 'We'll be free.'