Vanessa 1976
My only hope? What did that mean?
This all feels like something from a TV show, and I'm not one of Charlie's angels or agent 99 from Get smart. I'm me, and at no point in my life did I prepare for anything like this.
It's amazing what happens when you're put in a situation that forces you to think about your choices.
A man tells you he's the only option you have, and you've got a decision to make. Do you follow him and believe what he's saying is true, or do you turn and run, assuming he's lying to you?
I go with the wiser choice. I run.
Maybe he was telling me the truth, but that brings up questions I barely have time to consider as I'm racing to get back to the foyer.
Why did he wait until I left the vault? Where were the guards who'd been there before? I wasn't here that long, so they had no reason to change. Then there were the questions that led down a more dangerous path.
If Romulus wanted me to meet someone to help me, why hadn't he mentioned it in his letters? I was still holding onto the last one, and I could promise anyone with my hand to my heart that he didn't mention anyone else.
"Excuse me," I push past people, knowing I'm being rude but not having the time to care. "Excuse me."
'Don't turn around,' I tell myself, afraid that if I look behind, I'll find the man ready to catch me.
What was happening? None of this made sense. All the other things Romulus had left me were about him, so what made this time different? Honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
The streets are packed, but I can't worry about that now. I don't know the city that well. Where do I go? Should I go back to the hotel? Was it safe to do that?
No, the guy knew my real name. How hard would it be to find my human one?
That leaves me on the street. I'm a tourist here, and I can't assume the guy was human. Not if he knew my actual name. What he was, I couldn't tell. There wasn't a smell or sound radiating off him, and I didn't get the chance to check his eyes.
My father taught me how to read someone's irises. In the same way, everyone's fingerprints are unique to them. Your eyes have patterns that only belong to you. It's why humans believe it's the window to the soul. In a way, they're absolutely right.
You can see a person's true nature, secrets, strengths and weaknesses, and even lineage. My father could do all that and more, it's why no one can ever lie to him, but I was leagues away from being proficient enough to do anything as advanced. However, I could see whether or not someone was an entit'a.
The day was overcast, and it looked like it might rain. I didn't know if that worked in my favor or not. But, gods, I wish I was one of Charlie's angels now, or at least Samantha from Bewitched.
That might sound insane coming from a supernatural, but as magical powers go, I'm not looking at a large bag of tricks. I inherited my father's elven speed, senses, and connection to the trees, but this was a city, and the trees I've seen are lonely and very quiet. Maybe if I found a park or forest, I could connect to them, and they could help me, but not here.
My vampiric heritage was still locked inside me, and I had no clue how to make that change.
Even my dragon skills were limited in this form. Yes, I could shift into the beast, but my magic was rudimental. I could breathe fire, fly, had claws, and my tail was sharp and whip-like, but I couldn't shift here.
There would be mass panic if I did. But, even if I breathed fire, that would be enough to lock the city down.
If I could at least fight better, then maybe that would help, but three years of training in the Royal army hadn't done much for my offensive skills. I frustrated my commander to no end. I was an excellent archer, few could compare to my ability to shoot a firearm, but I didn't carry a bow or a gun.
When it came to hand-to-hand combat, I was lucky if I could face a human and come out unscathed. I was a pacifist. I wasn't a warrior!
'I wish I was now!' I think to myself as I run down the street. I don't dare turn around to see if he's following me. I have to assume he is. 'Of all the days to wear heels!'
'What do I do? What do I do?' I panic in my head. If I were in the forest and needed to survive, I could do that, but this city was nothing like Atlanta or DC.
Several blocks away, one of my heels breaks, and I'm forced to stop.
No, this can't be happening. Taking them off, I risk looking behind me. The man wasn't there. Had I outrun him, or had the guy never chased me in the first place?
With a deep breath, I started walking, still worried I wasn't safe, but not as bad as before.
Gods, I feel paranoid!
So, now what? Was I supposed to walk around Seattle barefoot?
'You have your ticket and your passport,' I remind myself. I could go to the airport and take the next flight back to Atlanta. I could call my dade if I needed to, and he would tell me where I should go.
That was pathetic! I thought I was an adult, but it seems that I'm still a child. I was helpless in this situation; all I want is my parents.
"I don't want this," I whisper to the air. "It's too big."
"Then let me help you," A voice offers, and I freeze. That wasn't in my head.
Slowly, I turn, trying to find the source of the voice. The people around me kept walking by, and I knew it wasn't any of them. I'd been speaking too quietly for them to hear.
"Over here," The voice chuckles, and I follow the melodic tones. Spotting a slender, tall man waving at me from across the street.
Swallowing hard as I watch him saunter across the street. His raven-black hair and crystal blue eyes offset his pointed ears. I'm shocked to see someone like him here, and as he gets closer, I feel his spirit sing to me.
An elf, but not like my father. This elf was leaner than our people, eyes, and ears slanted upwards, and even though his hair was black, there were different shades in the strands. A western elf. The ones you hear about in fiction.
This isn't his proper form, though. I imagine his hair is closer to purple, his irises darker shades of black, and his eyelids marked with black lines that look like eyeliner.
We were different. My father was an eastern elf, we were meant to be tall, but we were considered the shortest in the species. Our colors were earthier, browns, blacks, blonds, and even a few silver-haired elves. Our features weren't as sharp but still delicate.
My father loved comparing us to birds. He said that we shared many traits with them, and like birds, there were many species to choose from. Humans only knew a few elven people but had never experienced the rest of us.
I'm rooted to the spot, and for a second, I'm tempted to change forms and fly away. Of course, I shouldn't, but I don't want to be near this man.
If I run, he'll be able to catch me quickly, and I can't think straight.
My head hurts a little, and I wonder if he knows magic.
"I wouldn't try it, Lady Valkyrae," He warns with a smile. "You wouldn't get very far."
Had he read my thoughts?
"Who are you?" I demand when he reaches me. "What do you want from me?"
"Relax," he soothes, grabbing my arm and looping it under his. If anyone stared, they'd think we were friends. "No one will hurt you as long as you stay calm."
"Who are you?" I repeat my question.
"Captain Derek Soloman," He walks me past the crowds, leading me to the end of the block. "I'm an agent for the royal court."
Wait, I know his name. Romulus mentioned him all the time. This was my dead boyfriend's partner.
"What does the secret police want with me?" I demand, trying to pry my arm away from him.
"Why don't we sit down somewhere more comfortable for you," He offers. "There's a park near here. Would you feel more comfortable there?"
I don't answer.
"Lady Valkyrae," Derek's tone becomes more serious. "Do not try to escape. Look to your left on the top of that building."
Derek motions to a building on my left. I follow his gaze and see the distant outline of someone walking across the roof.
"Now to your right," He orders, and he looks across the street. "The woman in the green hat."
I see who he's talking about, and she looks up, her eyes changing from brown to amber. A witch.
"Stay calm, do as I say, and everything will be fine," Derek assures me. "If you don't, I will arrest you, and we'll treat you as a traitor."
"What are you talking about?" I demand, not understanding why he'd say that. "I haven't done anything."
"No," he agrees. "You didn't, but Romulus did. He was a traitor."