Katharine Wheel

Chapter 4

Home feels sad, cold and lonely whenever I have a fight with Anna, and puts me in a terrible mood, so instead of siting down and brooding over what happened, I decide to spend it doing something productive. Throwing around daggers isn't a skill someone is born with, it's a skill I had to practice for years to master, and will take me years to perfect. And just like we have tunnels leading to different rooms for our food, water and bed, we have a large room - bigger than the main-room which leads us out - holding a huge and various number of weapons.

The weapon-room is also the place I train, and is possibly the most orderly one since the devils don't enter it without supervision - my supervision. It's the room with the highest ceiling, so high that even Anna can't reach its top using a chair. The room is filled to the brim with weapons: solid bows made of various metals and some with thick wood with length going from two-feet to six-feet, with different shooting ranges and strong bowstrings hung to the hooks on the highest part of the room's walls; daggers, some the size of my thumb and others as long as my legs, with blades of all kinds of metals - some which I don't even recognize - stand in display in a lower part of the room, while hundred others lie in a chest that stands in the corner of the room, gathering dust; quivers holding arrows - long and short - lean against the chest, gathering dust along with the daggers; maces and other heavyweight weapons with long spears are pushed into another corner, except one or two which are used by Anna sometimes; red circles painted on white sheets acting as our targets hang all around the room, making it easier to practice from anywhere; and the floor is smooth and flat for hand-to-hand fights.

I stand in the centre of the room, breathing slowly and deeply, absorbing the quietness exuded by the room. There's no one in here but me and the weapons, I'm in this tiny bubble that no one can get into, left with my own thoughts and allowed to take any actions that I want to take. I remember the times I came here with mother and father, I remember the first dagger that I held in my tiny hand, the first time it pierced the target cleanly, the first time I pulled a bowstring. You're never going to be good at fighting; you don't have the physic for it, my father said, you need to learn to use your mind and agility more than developing brute-force to take people head-on. He taught me to use knives and manoeuver them and manipulate them how ever I would need them, and didn't let-up until he knew that I had the complete and utter control over them. He made me a cat, capable of crawling around stealthily without having to worry about being noticed even by the most sensitive species and sticking my claws in them. I don't have a fighting style; I don't need one. All I need is a small dagger, and somewhere to hide. My short, skinny physic helps with that.

My mother, on the other hand, was a bow-and-arrow person. Although father believed that arrows are useless against vampires, mother insisted that I learn how to use it. My skills in handling a bow are moderate, at best. And if I ever throw a spear, there's very less chance of the target getting hit, unless the target is giant-sized or an elephant.

My eyes fall on the daggers displayed on the wall. They are only the models of what we have; the chest contains more than a hundred daggers of all sizes, as do the quivers which hold the arrows. Although the only metal that I prefer to use is iron, we also have weapons of other metals and elements. Daggers, arrow-tips and spear-tips of silver, gold, ruby and diamond, glass and obsidian, and some which I don't even recognize. I don't know what they are used for or why they exist, but there are a few books in the Book-Tunnel that mention other creatures . . . .

Iron and acid. Those are vampires' weakness, and those are the weapons I always carry. I know a little about what the people before us called 'acid', and I know that it's a corrosive liquid. I don't know if the liquid I dip my blades in would've been considered acid by my ancestors, but since it's corrosive enough to burn a vampire, I've taken to that habit.

Anna and Rose call it the 'Magic Liquid', while Jaden is still trying to find out what makes the liquid so special. The liquid itself isn't anything extraordinary to look at - just an amber-coloured substance slightly thicker than water with a terrible smell and the ability to corrode vampire-skin. I don't know what it's made of or how to make it. The people who lived in this house before us left us plenty. And even if we run out, it isn't going to be that much of a problem. Acid corrodes vampire skin, but it's the iron which cuts them. Running out of the liquid will just mean harder fights, not impossible ones.

Slowly, so that my feet don't make any noise on the floor, I walk towards the daggers displayed on the wall. The only daggers kept outside are the ones I use, others are all kept in the chest. There was a time when all the daggers in the chest were put to use, and there were more than four people living in this safe-house - a proper rebellion - but that was a long time before one of them betrayed the rest, and the whole rebellion was ended by the vampires. From what I read, it's obvious that although the people themselves were betrayed, they managed to keep this place in secret in case someone else would come along and start up another rebellion. I remember a few months before Jaden and Rose were born, father was talking about taking in human refugees and starting a rebellion, but then mother was pregnant and didn't feel ready to let people in. She was afraid the plans might somehow endanger the the unborn children. Later, when she did feel it was time, father passed away, and that has never been spoken of again.

My palm closes around the stone-cold hilt of one of the smaller daggers. Breathing deeply, I stand in the centre again and aim at the farthest target, and stare at it for a moment before hurling my weapon at it. The dagger lodges itself in the red circle with a thwack that echoes around the large room.

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A dying sun makes the tall trees throw long shadows all across the forest, and it seems darker and later in the day than it is. I crouch in the fork of the branches of a particularly tall tree, hugging my jacket closer to my body to ward off the cold wind that's beginning to start in the wake of the setting sun. It's too early to hunt, but the fight with Anna led me to leave home as soon as I could. And now I have more than a few hours of waiting to do.

Soon enough, the sun sinks to give way to the impending darkness, clearing the way for the evil to come in. The long shadows thrown by the trees have disappeared, replaced by the small ones because of a tiny silvery moon. I glance at the sky in surprise. Moons at night aren't very common, although I've read books that state that this wasn't the case before the beginning of the vampire-rule. When a moon shows up in the sky, it means that there are too less clouds to cover it. No wonder it isn't as cold as it was yesterday. I ditch my jacket on the tree along with my other clothes which don't allow hunting before getting ready for another night of battle and danger - although not as dangerous as yesterday. The moon is a reflection of the sun, so it has some characteristics that will make the vampires weaker while it makes it easier for me to see with its light. A night in which there is a full-moon and a clear sky is a night of easy and bountiful kills.

I close my eyes and wait for the first scream. A warm wind starts blowing from my left, making the stray hair on my face dance across my forehead; leaves rustle softly and the tree moves rightward gently to bear the wind, a soft thump, followed by the sound of breaking branches interrupts the rustling. I tug my hair back, cursing myself for not tying it properly. Vampires by themselves are dangerous enough to kill without my hair blinding me. The wind grows stronger, and the rustling gets louder while some leaves begin flying around in a whirlwind, a few night insects start making noises in hopes of a rain. I glance at the sky again as a leaf tickles my cheek. It's completely clear and cloudless. As much as I love rain and watching vampires fight against all the creatures brought by it, I really don't fancy having to get soaked through.

The wind stops as suddenly as it came, and I relax a little. The rustling stops and, the night grows quiet again. I breath in deeply the fresh smells of the forest brought in by the wind before cutting it off with the cloth around my mouth, my eyes are open now, and alert, as the night grows quieter in preparation for the onslaught of the leeches. Quieter and quieter, until every breath I take is louder than a scream, and the thumping of my nervous heart feels as heavy as the footsteps of a hungry vampire. The forest seems to stop moving, and stills for a second, so that I feel like I'm back in the weapon-room, with nothing and no one around me. Even the night animals seem to have either died or disappeared into nowhere.

I jump up in surprise as a shrill owl-hoot disturbs the unnatural quiet, and I look around in my jitteriness. It's just an animal, I tell myself, nothing to worry about. An audible crash, followed by a loud thump pull me out of my thoughts of convincing myself not to be paranoid, and I stuff my dagger into my belt, already moving towards the source of the sound with as much much grace as I can muster. Following my ears leads me through two trees on my right, before I find myself crouching to the edge of a tree whose branch has broken off from the trunk to fall on the ground. That explains the crash, but why did the branch fall? I look around the premises of the tree, and find nothing but a small clearing and thick trees and vines and branches and leaves that block it. I narrow my eyes to slits, scrutinizing every detail of the place, knowing that I can't risk not investigating a strange incident properly. Only, I come up with nothing.

Just as I'm about to give up and resume my position, my gaze falls on the small clearing in front of me. There is a lot of greenery hiding it from my sight, what if the perpetrator of this is hiding there? Slowly, so as to make no sound, I move to the clearing, and jump in the centre. Landing on the balls of my feet, I make no sound, even though the clearing has dry leaves everywhere. The trees throw thin shadows in the middle of the clearing, darkening the place and cutting off my sight considerably. A rustling sound to my left has me sprinting towards it with weapon in hand, but when I finally reach the place, I find nothing but more long shadows and tree-trunks.

I consider staying on the ground longer and trying to find out what's happening, but realize that it's nearly feeding-time for the leeches and even if the sounds do mean some danger, it's better to stay on top of a tree, where I'll be at advantage. So, putting my dagger back in my belt, I swing myself to the top of the nearest tree.

Before I make my way back to my original position, I take one last look at the clearing, still partly hoping that I might find what I was looking for. The only thing I see is the usual branches and trees and their shadows, although one particular shadow stands out because of its bulkiness. It isn't thin or gnarled like the others, and it feels defined and round, almost like a human crouching behind a tree.

I blink, and the shadow disappears. I frantically look for it again, only to see nothing of its sort anywhere. Shaking my head, I scold myself for acting like Anna and go back to my original position, a few feet away from this one.

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The rough tree-bark digs into my palm as I brace my body against one arm, while the other slowly and silently slides out a short dagger. My eyes are focused on my target: a pale, exposed neck of a vampire - possibly a messenger, going by his clothes of rough but expensive-looking tunic - sent to retrieve a royal. It's always fun taking down a messenger; they're stupid and react slowly, but consider themselves better than the others because of the messages they carry, and there's the added benefit of depriving a royal of an important message.

I smile at myself through the cloth muffling my breath. This is going to be fun. My eyes track him as he glides through the thick trees in his hurry to reach his master faster, silvery light reflecting off his bright hair. Slung to his hip is a weapon. Possibly a sword. It doesn't really matter. I'm going to take him by surprise. He's walking in a straight line, without letting any gnarled roots or tree-trunks stand in his way. Going by the way he's walking, it isn't hard to predict where he's going to step next. And it's even easier to sabotage him on his way. I'm positioned above him, in the edge of a clearing. If he keeps walking in a straight line, he will have to pass from under me, making my job easier.

I let go of the branch, and lean forward on my feet, ready to leap down and take the vampire by surprise. My muscles tense and tighten in anticipation. My breath comes in faster. A wind blows from my south and a leaf tickles my cheek. He pauses in his steps and frowns, wrinkling his delicate nose to sniff the air, swivelling his head from left to right in quick movements. I stop breathing for a moment, and force my body into motionlessness. Can he sense my presence? Did I underestimate his foolishness? My hand on the dagger tightens instinctively.

His frown deepens, and he sticks his head forward, an expression of intense concentration on his face. My eyebrows twitch, and I breathe out slowly, confusion taking the place of my anxiousness. He's not turned towards me. In fact, his face is turned away, the complete opposite direction of my position. As dumb as messengers are, a vampire can never be that wrong about something, especially with their heightened senses. What is he doing?