Chapter 4 Remember Me
REMEMBER ME
The boy was pretty. Not that the boy’s prettiness would exempt him from punishment for pretending to be Ashyr. His beloved Ashyr. He felt strange thinking of that name and looking at the boy. What should he do to this boy who dared pretend to be an Immortal?
From the state of him, Weryn thought little more could be done.
His beautiful face was pale as milk. Even his lips were bleached of color.
Cold sweat coated his brow. And his limbs shook.
He appeared unable to rise from the bed.
That arm outstretched towards him trembled and then fell down to his lap like a dead thing.
Weryn wondered what had happened to him.
Drained of too much blood? And why did his anger flare at the thought of someone else at this boy’s throat. But no. Not that. His scent tells me his blood is full and rich and warm and…
Weryn shook himself. The boy’s scent was–familiar, alluring–strange. He would not be distracted from learning where he was and what had happened to him. Something was wrong. This world was what he remembered and not at all. How had he gotten here? Who were these people? Who was the boy?
“Weryn, it’s me! It’s Gray–Ashyr. I’m Ashyr,” the boy laugh-cried as he thumped his chest with one clenched fist. That fist fell too and the boy breathed heavily as if winded by the effort. “Dammit! Damn this weakness!”
“Do not say his name if you would have any strength left!” Weryn glowered.
He was tempted to go to the boy and grasp his chin, force him to look up into his eyes and beg for forgiveness. But the boy seemed unimpressed by him. In fact, the boy challenged him. Moreover, he shamed him.
“You would attack me?” The boy lifted an eyebrow at him.
“You speak Ashyr’s name as your own,” he pointed out, feeling foolish at having to explain himself. And why was he explaining himself?
“The Weryn I know would never attack a boy. That’s how you see me, don’t you?” The boy studied his face.
“You are a young man, I suppose, in human terms. But a boy all the same. You look… soft.”
That had not been the word he had intended to say. It had a note of longing to it. Almost as if it attracted him.
“Soft?” The boy laughed bitterly. “Yet that has not been my life this time around. My looks were always a blessing and a burden on the streets. They drew too much attention. The wrong kind.”
“Who…” He stopped. He’d been about to ask who had dared to look without permission or desire. But what did he care about that? Pretty boys like this were always in danger. “You should have found someone strong to protect you.”
Another bitter laugh. “I didn’t need someone to protect me. I could protect myself.”
“You have muscles and a lean fighter’s form, but against a truly powerful person you would be taken,” Weryn grunted.
“Many have thought so,” the boy answered. “If they saw me like this, they might be right.”
“You are ill now. None will want you,” Weryn said. “None of the humans in any case.”
The boy looked up at him. “So I’m safe now because I’m ill? What an interesting idea!”
“From humans. But others could see your value. How you could bloom again,” Weryn answered.
“Oh, bloom again.” The boy lowered his head and looked up at Weryn through dark, thick lashes. “So a Vampire could see value in me.”
“Not when you call yourself Ashyr reborn,” Weryn brought the conversation back to the important point. “How you have convinced these others is beyond me.”
“Is it my current weakness that makes you think I am not Ashyr reborn? Or that you don’t believe Ashyr is coming back? Or something else?” Those keen tawny eyes studied him.
He didn’t know why. It wasn’t a feeling even. It was just…
“Ashyr is gone,” he found himself saying.
“I was,” the boy agreed. “But not really. Not truly gone. Just… waiting.”
“Waiting?” Weryn glared at him.
“I would say I was waiting for you, but you’ve been here over two hundred years–”
“I have been around for far longer than that!” he snapped.
“Not this time around. But that’s not why I was delayed, I think.” The boy looked thoughtful.
“You are not Ashyr,” another growl.
A look of despair washed over that beautiful face. “You really believe that.”
“He wants to,” the pretty blond Vampire said.
“He wants to think I’m gone?” the boy asked.
“Yes, yes, he does,” the blond Vampire answered.
“I wonder… I suppose you aren’t the Weryn I knew back then or the Ryder I know now, are you?
” The boy looked so sad. His expression hardened for a moment as he asked, more to himself than to Weryn, “You’re the one who went to War against your friends and family.
You’re the one that everyone fears. Are you still mad, I wonder? ”
Weryn’s nostrils flared. “The War… what would a human know of our War?”
“Not much, but what I’ve been told. And only bits and pieces at that as those who remember are too traumatized from it to speak much of it.
And I wasn’t there for it. I died first, remember?
” The boy gave him a sharp look. “That’s the reason you used to slaughter so many of our brothers and sisters, isn’t it?
And that’s likely the reason, you’re hoping that I am not me. ”
The spirits inside of him stirred. He could see them inside of him, looking at him and the boy.
They were silent. Why were they not howling?
Why did they creep closer to the front of his chest as if to get nearer to the pretty boy?
Why did they cringe at his angry words? Why did a hot flash of shame go through him?
For a moment, he remembered Ashyr speaking in his mind, chastising him for what he’d done and begging him to stop.
“How dare you judge me, human!” His eyes flashed banked fire.
“Judge you? You used me as an excuse to hurt others! People I did everything to protect!” The boy shook his head angrily. “I couldn’t be angry at Ryder for this. But I think I am angry at you. Furious at you. So am I judging you? Yes.”
Weryn bared his fangs. How could this human speak to him in this manner and expect to live? The other two Vampires were rigid with the expectation that he would attack, but not the boy. The boy was unafraid.
Just like Ashyr. He feared no one and nothing other than failure.
“You should hold your tongue,” he warned.
“Again, why? Does the great Weryn attack helpless humans? Humans who are worse off than helpless?” The boy lifted his hands as if to gesture to his illness and accentuate his weakness.
“I have snapped necks for less than you have said,” Weryn told him.
“You will do no such thing,” the Wyvern Vampire growled. Her silver eyes sparked at him. “Don’t even use that language with him!”
“It’s okay, Fiona. I don’t want you to fight him. I don’t want either of you hurt,” the boy said. “My whole goal this time around is to see that we work together.”
“I worked well with Ryder,” she answered. “That is the leader of the Weryn that I know and respect.”
Who was this Ryder? That’s what they had been calling him. He asked that question out loud.
“You are Ryder,” the boy said. “And I am Grayson. You are also Weryn. And I am also Ashyr.”
“Stop saying his name!” He sounded like a wounded bear.
His bear form let out a low rumble of grief yet it looked upon the boy–Grayson–with such longing. It wanted to snuffle him. It wanted to pull the ill child against its furry stomach and keep him warm.
What is going on here?
The boy gave out a choked laugh. “Why don’t you believe me? Because I don’t look like I once did? But you know I wouldn’t. I’ve been reborn. Like you have! Look at yourself. Go look at yourself in the mirror there. Is that the face you remember?”
Weryn slowly turned his head towards the mirror that hung on the back of the door.
He jerked. The face that looked back at him–strong, angular, bearded with silver eyes–was not his.
But it was. He was used to seeing himself in other forms, but the eyes always gave it away.
It was him. This was his body. He touched it uncertainly, watching as his hands moved in the mirror.
He ran his fingers through his thick beard, over his lips and up his cheeks to the orbits of his eyes.
Why don’t I look like myself? Is this Kaly’s doing? But how?
“You see?” The boy’s voice was soft, gentler. “You were reborn too. And you were turned. I haven’t been yet.”
“Maybe you should be.” The pretty blond Vampire who looked like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth was the one to speak those words.
“Grayson, you used extraordinary amounts of power tonight to bring that tidal wave. I don’t know how much more your body can take.
You look like death warmed over. I fear what will happen if you use your power anytime soon. ”
Grayson closed his eyes. There were dark hollows beneath them. The urge to run his thumbs along that evidence of suffering shocked him as did the whines that his wolf form gave. It wasn’t alone in its distress at Grayson’s distress. All of his animal selves were anxious at this boy’s illness.
Grayson opened his eyes, still looking exhausted, but determined. “I can’t. Not yet. The Kaly slices not realizing I was Ashyr tonight likely saved some lives. Maybe even Fiona and mine.”
“You know of the Kaly slices?!” Weryn burst out.
He had just heard of this from–from Legion. Yes, Legion. The creature had been telling him about how Kaly had sliced himself into pieces and secreted himself into many forms of all different Vampire Bloodlines. But now this boy knew?!
“He’s Ashyr,” Christian said firmly. “He’s our General. He is the one planning everything against the Sect of Dawn.”
His winter fox form tiptoed forward, wanting to sniff Grayson’s neck and drape itself over his shoulder. Weryn’s eyes widened. It longed to comfort the young man, urge him to lay down, and sleep.
“How did this happen to him, Christian?” Grayson asked with a sigh, sinking back against the pillows even as he gestured at Weryn.