Freshman Blood: Dhampir Dylan

Four - Freshman Blood - Part-One

Four:

There was peace in being free of the opening ceremony. They played some more music while I was running for the proverbial hills.

The outskirts between magiks uni, and the Silver City, was a desolate place. While I appeared unarmed, I had stuffed two enchanted daggers into my concealed waist sheaths.

All the land outside of a walled city was fair game, even to the very point of the gates. It wasn’t uncommon for rovers to come right up to the gates and pluck the guards, if the guards were fetching enough to be worth anything.

Crossing even a small strip of wastelands as an eighteen-year-old girl was unsettling. My eyes darted around the darkness, as the walkway lights lit the path around the rusting automobiles, and littered garbage tossed around.

My greatest curse inside the university, was my greatest gift out in the wilds. My empathy warned me well before I approached anyone. I’d utilized my gift to avoid confronting rovers a few times in my life.

One would think that the Silver City, and millions of local immortals would scare off bandits and rovers marauding outside the gates, but bands of them seemed to be brazen enough to call this area home. The rovers around here were twice as dangerous, and many times as likely to sell you to the highest bidder, not simply r**e and murder you.

My heart was like a jackhammer in my chest, as I touched the hidden sheath on my right hip. The void of feeling in my empathy was another moment of unhindered passage.

The late summer breeze blew, and loose tin rattled. I felt a pair of minds in the distance, towards the Silver City. I nearly pulled my daggers out that instant, but I drew closer, and I felt their magiks embrace me like a chilly blanket. Dark rangers, Talia’s personal armed force which defended my home.

I crossed the short gap between the university, and the Silver City. The ranger sentinels at the side entrance eyed me, their keen elven eyes widened as they realized who I was.

“Duchess, good evening, how was your opening ceremony?”

The tall man asked me, and I gave him a slight smile to show I wasn’t a cold b***h.

“Well met, it was keen. A few too many bodies in one place for my liking.”

I said, in a friendly manner, and the pair nodded stiffly. A moment later, they roved a magiks scanner over my body. The magiks object was a small glowing blood orb devised by fae and sanguinar. This device was an invention of Fray’s, to ensure beings were who they appeared to be. Since the past has proven deception and cunning uses of dark magiks can disguise a person and their true intentions.

“You might consider a few companions to travel with next time. Even though you are a brave lass, I can see how frightening it is to transverse the gap.”

The male guard commented in a protective manner. I sighed and said, “It’ll be nice once Aunt Talia finishes the walkways between the uni and our home.”

The pair nodded and made affirmative sounds.

“Most beings wouldn’t dare to leave the university township during the late evening hours, such as yourself, Duchess Dylan.”

The female guard said, as the silver gates opened with a hefty groaning sound.

“Well, what can I say, they don’t have any pubs the same as the Silver City.”

I said to the pair, and I received affirmative grunts of approval.

“That swill served in the new pubs is simply criminal!”

The female guard stated, and her disgust radiated in her inner emotions. The male hummed loudly and added, “You have to be young and have unrefined taste to even consider that muck as ale.”

I nodded as I moved passed them and awkwardly waved and said, “Do be careful with the rovers, though you two are very strong. I felt you much further away than the previous guards.”

The woman’s eyes gleamed in challenge.

“I welcome a rover band to challenge my gate. I will finally get to test this new magiks enchantment on my bow.”

Her feral grin was instant. With one final nod, I walked past the guards, and the glow of green and blue fairy flames dancing around the sky filled my eyes. I blinked my gaze closed for a moment, as I adjusted from the dark and dusky roadway.

“Hey, miss, can I interest ye in some fresh steaks?!”

A large fluttering winged fae man asked me. He was a large breed pixie, and he was about four-feet tall. I shook my head at him, and he noticed the pale tint of my skin, and the general way I moved.

“Not a shifter, so, you want some fresh blood? I have the human stuff.”

My stomach growled and I looked around, almost forgetting I was in the city that blood was legal. It was discouraged to buy and sell human blood, since there were shadier people who dealt with trafficked humans, but Tren Na Nogg had legitimate sources thanks to the humans who immigrated here from Keimusho when it was being destroyed in the final battle with Calder.

“If I taste any misery or the taint of drugs in this blood, I will come back and gut ye.”

I murmured lowly, but loud enough to be heard. I was shy, not a daft fool. This was a harsh time to be alive, a girl cannot show a single iota of weakness.

The pixie fluttered over my head and waved his hands in wide animated gestures.

“Hey, whoa, whoa, that escalated fast! I have legit former Keimusho donors. So, free-range and all that good stuff, yeah?”

He said, and he arched his green bushy brows and asked, “Ya want the blood? I have a whole pint.”

I nodded and said, “Aye, give it all to me. Thirty silver marks?”

I asked, and he flailed again, “Thirty?! You might as well be draining me for that price!”

My nostrils flared in disgust, and he frowned and leaned in closer, and sniffed me.

“Oh, you’re that little lass who can only drink the mortal stuff!”

He practically screamed, and I looked around at the others in the wide-open market just inside the city limits. It was a good tactic of the vendors to set up shop right at the gates, to catch the maximum impulse buying.

“Look, I’ll give it to you for forty-five marks silver.”

I shook my head and said, “I’ll part with forty now, or I’ll ask my aunt if she might know someone willing to sell for thirty, later.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment, and it probably didn’t hurt my case that I all but name-dropped the reigning queen as my aunt.

“Ok, ok, I can do forty since it is for the crown. Just remember to put in a good word, if the topic ever drifts to reputable city vendors.”

The tattered state of the pixie made him look like he just survived the h*******t. He looked as shabby as any homeless person in the human city. In the Silver City, Talia took care of her people. She had seen to it that any people without homes or means to survive were given work, and some even opted to move to the University township for jobs opening. Any time my family hears of poverty, they break themselves to make new options, even if it means slicing their own necks in the process. We’re not perfect, but I like to believe the overall empathy of the royals and council have made our city a beacon of light in an otherwise dismal period of history.

We’re not perfect, and we still have deaths, and rovers outside the gates. We also have the angriest neighbors possible, New Orleans. The city that had once been known for its unending celebration and festive atmosphere, has become the second center of power in the surviving human government.

“Sure, if the topic comes up, I’ll keep you in mind.”

I said, and he beamed at me, and he flew down to one of his cold storage containers and produced a hospital plastic bag of blood.

“See, fresh doner blood, no drugs or s*****y needed.”

He grinned at me, and I nodded, and I plucked a small stack of credit chips from my pocket, and I handed him forty silver gleaming credits.

“I know you’re royal and all, but don’t blame me,” he said, as he bit the chips and licked them and hummed.

“Sterling silver, do come again, my lovely Duchess!”

I rolled my eyes and accepted the blood. I opened it for a moment, just to sniff the contents. The heady scent of AB positive hit my nostrils and I looked back at the man, who I could swear was wearing a shiny emerald cloak, for a single moment. When my eyes settled on him squarely, he was back to rags again.

“That was some rather good stuff, for forty credits.”

He grinned and said, “It’s better to take a wee loss, and land a high-born client, than to make the one sale, am I right?”

I laughed slightly, and I waved at him.

“Have a good evening mister trickster.”

I said, and the pixie beamed in pride at the pet name.

“Do come back again!”

He waved as I began to walk deeper into the Silver City. The rows of vendors were selling not just food stuffs and leather or woven fae goods, but also modern tech devices, and magiks enchanted weapons as well.

There were even merchants selling knockoff versions of my mother’s iron weave jeans. The large trade district occupied two entire outer tiers of New Tren Na Nogg. Just beyond the edge of the trade district, I spotted my favorite tavern. The Musty Ole Nag, was a truly Irish experience.

Despite my father’s truly Nordic roots, he often took me to this medium-sized tavern. As I opened the old wooden door, the bells chimed above me, and the ballad of the bagpipes and violin music transported me to a time far-flung in history.

There was a sign above the stage that read, “Absolutely no Danny Boy or Molly Malone.” That amused me to no end, since both were exceptionally famous Irish folk songs. The barkeep and owner of the little watering hole had heard his fill of the two anthems. We often had The Tossers, and Dropkick Murphys playing. In acoustic format mainly, some nights the electric guitars and drums polluted the block with the sound of old Irish punk.

“Hey, little dhampir Dylan!”

The round and overly stocky ogre with blue skin and black beady eyes greeted, as I entered the din of Celtic sin and debauchery.

The smoke of cigars and the spicey rum and whiskey filled the air. The thick and inviting scent of my childhood—I know, my dad’s a terrible influence!

“Hey there, Gallen.”

I greeted the barkeep and owner of the tavern in my best impression of a cheerful tone. He squinted at me and murmured, “How old are ye, lass?”

I huffed and sighed, “We go through this every bloody time I come in here!”

Complaining loudly, and a stray vampyr male moved up behind me as if seeing his opportunity.

“Just give the lady anything she likes, on me, of course.”

I didn’t bother looking back, and I said, “Gallen, a pint of bitter black, and of course I am paying for my own damn drinks.”

I said, and he laughed and gave the vampyr an apologetic look.

“Better luck next time lad. She’s battin’ fer the other team, mate!”

He laughed again, and I could feel the man’s insult and rejection burning through me as lively as if it were mine.

“You could at least look at me!”

He snapped, I could feel he was not weak, and was accustomed to getting his way.

“I’m here to drink, I’ll just look at my glass, if you don’t mind.”

I said, and he huffed, and I felt another person approach, this one felt like a fae, a Summer Sidhe of some sort.

“Come on man, she’s not biting, we’ll find some who’re more properly inclined.”

(I know some of you are thinking I am not too shy if I can brush off a guy like this. Well, you’d be wrong, I simply wish to get him and his oily, lustful emotions far away from me, fast.)

“I don’t see how she can act like she’s too good for me!”

He growled, and I sighed, massaging my temples, as Gallen thumped down a pint of bitter black, and I managed a weak smile.

“Thanks for this, mate.”

I said, and the vampyr murmured, “American plastic patties, distasteful.”

He growled, as he finally strode away. I breathed a deep lung full of relief as his emotions receded from my empathic sense.

“My mum is the former Irish Lower Queen, and yet these bastards think it odd if a few Irish-English words seep into my vocabulary. They’re very lucky I’m not like my little sister. She would proceed to kick them all in the balls systematically, until no testicles were safe.”

I murmured darkly, as I sipped my dark draft. The ale was home brewed in Gallen’s private brewery. The tavern owner and barkeeper seemed to wear many different hats.

“I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have stopped kissing your ass if they knew you were connected to Mavis. You do know you could wear more clothing with the royal crest. It might dispel future misunderstandings.”

I snorted and murmured, “I’ll bear that in mind for the next time I randomly cross over from the university to come get a drink.”

Gallen snorted and said, “Dylan, you really can’t blame the boys for having a hard-on for you. You’re no ogre female, but you are the next best thing.”

I narrowed my eyes at the troll and murmured, “Thanks, that’s just what every girl wants, to be compared to an ogre!”

Gallen grunted and added, “I know, it’s a tough standard to match against.”

I knew the man well enough to know he wasn’t joking, he truly believed ogre women were the best on the multiverse. Not like I judged, but being a non-troll, that still annoyed me a bit.

“There’s no doubting your Irish connections, when it pertains to your alcoholic choices.”

Gallen informed me, and I snorted and raised my black ale in salute.

“So, what brought you running here for a drink? How’s the noggin treanin’ ya? Still causing all sorts of pain?”

He asked, and I realized that Gallen might give a damn. Either that or he just wanted to stay on good terms with a royal, even one as strangely removed from the throne as me. Unlike my siblings, I didn’t share a true biological royal parent. The most unique thing about me, is that my mom is an evo human, and that I am half human. Every vampyr child born with one human parent before me was born a full-fledged vampyr. It wasn’t until my wonky evo blood came into the mix, that the world’s first living dhampir happened.