Chapter 21 - Depravity

  Jack had traveled during nights, cutting through country and wilderness, for the better part of a full cycle before he'd grown immensely bored of it.

  It was a tiring thing first of all, running for as long as one's lungs and legs would allow. Of course as a half-blood vampire, his strength and vitality were greater than that of a normal person —even more so after sundown. But running for endless hours, while possible with the consumption of human blood, was not at all something he was used to. The first day had brought on terrible after aches to follow as might happen after a strenuous day of work.

  Secondly, there was a distinct lack of people out in the wilds and grand land masses that made up Xenarian farmlands and lesser forests. Lack of people meant lack of human blood to consume and keep fueled with.

  Thirdly, while nature and all was pleasant, Jackrin longed for social interactions. He longed to perform, to be at center stage and admired for his many talents.

  So it was he'd decided to travel along the royal road, savoring the many gasps and blushes he earned from women he smiled and winked at while offering ostentatious bows to the men traveling alongside them.

  Unfortunately for Jack, that hadn't quite scratched that itch to perform. His interactions with strangers seldom lasted more than an hour or two, and on a lengthy country road, his audience rarely amounted to more than four or five people at a time. He also had to be careful with whom he chose to set upon during the night to quench his thirst, lest he let rumors run wild of a Vampire roaming the lands free. Through it all, a need for creative carnage crept up his spine each time he saw a person. A need that begged and pleaded to be released from the confines of his mind. Oft they'd show Jack the face of his treacherous sister. He stoppered these urges with immense effort, but there existed no lid that could hold water for long once it reached boiling point.

  You'll bend eventually, Jack. You'll bend, Jahck whispered.

  Jack had no need to wear his mask during his travels, but the voice of his more confident half was always present, ever seeking full control of his body, mask or no.

  Today, Jack felt in control. He lay on his back, staring at the passing clouds who held at their corners the blazing light of a dusk near. The sound of grinding carriage wheels and clopping horseshoes accompanied. A pleasant thing, save for the carriage driver's incessant humming, for which a more vulgar word came to mind.

  Yes, Jack lay on the roof of a carriage, unbeknownst to both driver and passenger alike, enjoying the ride until night would come again, and he'd leave these people behind. For now though, he quite enjoyed the tepid scent of perfume emanating from within the carriage. The passenger inside was of more than modest wealth, if her bright clothing was any indication, and her taste in scents exquisite, much like Eksa. Unlike Eksa, though, this passenger knew the word 'moderation' and its definition. The horses pulling the carriage were draped in what appeared House colors of some note. They were city nobility perhaps? From the last group of merchants Jack had come upon, he'd learned that he was about a day's walk from the city of Heira.

  Halfway up to north Xenaria. And it had only taken about a month and a half with his combined nightly running and hitching rides here and there. That was forty-four days too long, for Jack was an impatient man.

  As the sun began to set and the sky was lit aflame, Jackrin wondered how Eksa fared. Perhaps it'd been wrong to leave her. Perhaps Aaron would hate him for it.

  Of course he will, Jahck said. Only I have ever been truly kind to you. I was your first friend, Jackrin.

  No. That was wrong. Aaron had accepted him where no one else had. Aaron was his first friend. “I'm his brother,” he muttered allowed. “He said it himself.”

  Betrayed once by a sister. Or have you already forgotten that, Jack? This brother of yours does not even share your blood. He'll betray you too.

  Jack squeezed shut his eyes. SILENCE he screamed in his own head. He rubbed his temples, squinting at the sinking sun. Which was worse he wondered, remaining beside a friend who feared him for the predator that he was, or abandoning her before the maws of a thousand hungry hounds that lived alongside her in Kovar?

  Why, the first one is worse of course, Jack. She fears you, as does everyone. You're a killer. A monster. You belong with me. Wear the mask. Wear it, and I'll show you true delight. There's a delectable little thing riding in the carriage beneath you.

  Shutting his eyes and ears did not stop Jahck's voice from leaking through. Neither did screaming in his own mind. Jack could only endure the endless taunts. Taunts that a part of him believed. Maybe he should give in. Maybe he should wear the mask and let Jahck take over. That would silence him wouldn't it?

  Yes.

  No. That wasn't right. That would give Jahck an actual voice —Jack's voice. Jahck would be free, laughing, killing, and Jack would have to endure the madness of it all, hating every action while delighting in it all the same…

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  He suddenly regretted leaving Kovar. If Jahck claimed staying with Eksa had been worse, then it for certain was the better option. But how could he stay? He felt so chained. So alone. If only Aaron and Viper were still there. He would at least have someone to talk to, and someone that appreciated his antics.

  We gave her a parting gift. She should have taken over Kovar by now. You worry too much, Jackrin. Eksa will be fine.

  Yes, occasionally Jahck spoke encouraging words too. Eksa should have conquered Kovar by now, and Crow should have been dead. But was that what had happened?

  I told you we should have killed that one eyed bastard while we had the chance.

  Yes, perhaps Jahck had been right about that. Killing Crow was something Jack would not have regretted. The man had no qualms with harming innocents. He deserved a vile end.

  As do we, Jack.

  Jackrin sat up. A surge of energy washed over him as the sun disappeared behind the western horizon, bringing the shadows of night in full. Sure enough, Heira lay in the distance, about a half mile away. Lights sprung up from the walled city. The carriage rolled on, consistent in its slow speed. Others walking on the ground passed by quicker, eager to find board and meal before all inns were full. Silver Tail wolves roamed the plains past sundown after all.

  And only a madman would brave running through their territory in the dark.

  Passersby gave Jack odd frowns. He waved at them in turn. Perhaps it was time to jump from the carriage and introduce himself to its lovely passenger, and then disappear just as quick, leaving another woman with an eternal longing for a beauty they could not possess. It was a devilish thing he quite delighted in, showing himself to women unspoken for, forever ruining their lives for they'd never be happy with the person they did end up with because that person would never be half as beautiful as Jack himself.

  Of course, the reverse was true for himself. Each woman passed was a gem in their own right, but to Jackrin they'd always be distant stars he could not hold. Not ever. Not again. Not after that incident in Kovar. The person riding the carriage had all the mass in all the right places to inspire salacious thoughts, but no. Jack could not bring himself to seduce her, or anyone else.

  With a sigh, he leapt from the carriage, landing behind it on his toes with so much a sound that a swooping owl might make. The city was near, and Jack was curious as to what manner of place Heira, the alleged 'Jewel of Xenaria', was like. But his enhanced vision caught sight of two guards come out from the city's southern gates hauling a cloth sack held between them.

  That piqued his interest even more, for if there was one thing Jack recognized better than any other, it was the sight of death. There was a body in that sack, and those guards pretended it was nothing but trash to be thrown beyond the city's walls.

  Jack rushed toward them, staying a measured distance away and crawling in the tall grasses outside the city. He focused his ears, now also enhanced, to hear the conversation between the two men as they carried the sack further and further from the walls. Both of them carried spades in their free hands. It was to be a secret burial.

  The guards finally stopped far enough from the walls that any of their peers would not see. It was also near fully dark outside. Jack paused his shadowing, staying within a hundred paces of them —hearing distance for him.

  “Another one's bitten the dust,” grunted one man, his voice old and weathered.

  “Hate doing this,” the second grumbled with a slightly higher pitch. “Feels evil. Like the spirits of the dead gon' come back and haunt me.”

  “Oh belt up,” the first spat. “But Flames, I hate this too. Bloody governor can't be more gentle with them, can he?”

  “Gentle? It's a depraved thing he does. Cleans the streets of thieving urchins somewhat, I'spose. But depraved nonetheless.”

  The first man stuck his spade into the ground and began shoveling out mounds of dirt. “Aye, depraved for certain. Can't understand it for the life of me. It's… It's just so bizarre.”

  The second man too began to dig. “Aye. Me? I was fourteen when I stole from my mother's purse and snuck into a pleasure den. Mother beat me black for it, but Flames that first time with Marla was worth every copper penny.”

  The first man spat again. “I ain't here to hear your damn whoring stories Ket.”

  “Flames, I know. Just saying, hear? Marla was just… I used to get excited seeing her since I became a man. But Governor Bernestur… Ain't that Flaming bastard ever seen a naked woman in his life? To take boys beneath ten off the street instead…”

  Jack gagged. What?

  Why the disgust, Jackrin? You're an even bigger monster.

  No.

  Yes.

  No. No, no, no. That simply wasn't true. He wasn't so heinous, so depraved, so deranged…

  You're a murderer Jack, and every murderer is heinous, depraved, and deranged.

  No. That couldn't be.

  You murdered a woman in love with you.

  No. No, that was an accident.

  A beautiful, delicious, and deliberate accident…

  No.

  Monster.

  No.

  Yes.

  “NO!” Jack finally screamed, his voice carrying across the open field.

  Grass blades rustled with the wind to follow. Crickets chirped, and somewhere far away, a wolf howled. Jack half expected the guards to have noticed him by now, but he heard no alarmed cries from them, no distinct metallic ringing of a sword being drawn, and indeed no sight of the men he'd trailed at all. It was like they'd disappeared.

  Jack turned to leave when his foot caught on something. He flinched, jumping back. “What…”

  Laying on the ground before him were the two guards, both with a line of blood trailing from the sides of their heads. It was then Jack felt a dull throb on his knuckles. When did I…?

  He felt a surge of panic at the realization of what he'd done. That panic bled away when he heard the faint beats of two hearts that were not his own. The men were alive, by Flames' blessings. Between them lay the sack they'd hauled to bury. Jackrin knelt before it, unraveling the top slowly, as if needing confirmation of the words he'd heard. Inside he found the pale, lifeless face of a boy who could not be older than six years of age. Their eyes were open, and fogged with the mark of one who'd been addicted to the narcotic known as shase.

  Jack threw up into the hole the two guards had dug. He sat there for a while, gasping. Then, he covered his bile with dirt, bit one of the guards, drank his fill of blood, and turned away.

  Wear the mask, Jackrin. Let me take control.

  Jack did no such thing, but he did not turn toward the city. He had the urge to avoid Heira this night, when his own sanity teetered at the edge of a honed blade. Instead he ran past it, and out into open country once again. Coming to the roads had been a mistake.

  The howls of Silver Tail wolves carried far in the open air.