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Chapter Text

With no source of light, the darkness was so thick it suffocated her where she huddled in the corner.  Bat wings with lethal spikes at the ‘thumb’ enfolded her, but granted very little comfort or warmth. A long tail curled around her digitigrade talons with three sharp toes.  Her lavender skin was mottled in bruises and lacerations over the gold veins across her body.    

Her face still tearstained, and sore from long hours of being restrained.  The tight collar around her throat nearly constricted the air, and the chain rattled at any movement.

A creaking door heralded an arrival.  Light sprung across the cell.  She raised her hand to shield her eyes against the bright light; her mouth opened in an ‘ahh’.

A tall figure stood in the doorway, carrying a short stool.  The figure had tall ears and carried himself in smooth confidence in grey clothing.  Black shoes made soft scuffs as he crossed the cell and set the stool next to her.  She watched him lower onto it, and tucked herself further into the corner, loathing and fear mired in her heart for this monster.

“My dear Emily, it breaks my heart to see you in this state,” White Rabbit crooned.

She glared at him, hatred sharpening the slits in her eyes.  

He picked up the untouched tray of food; a sandwich gone stale next to an apple and a bottle of water.  “You really should eat.  When was the last time you had a decent meal?”

She clenched her teeth.  The collar and chain around her neck prevented her from tearing out his throat.  Instead, she uttered a low hiss as her wings arched.    

White Rabbit set the tray down with a reproachful clucking of his tongue.  “Or do you prefer a ‘liquid diet’?” 

Above all, she hated the smug grin spreading across his white face and haughty hum as he bared his arm, like a magician revealing he had nothing up his sleeve. 

Then he held his arm before her.  It was covered in patches of burned flesh, but the wrist was smooth.  She could see a soft blue vein there, with blood just beneath the surface.  As much as it disgusted her to take anything from him, thirst was making her stomach hurt.  

“There’s a good girl,” White Rabbit crooned as she bit into the wrist, barely flinching as her teeth sank into flesh.  “Drink up.  There’s plenty for you. . .and the kittens too.”

Her eyes had been half closed, losing herself in drinking. Now they widened, staring up at him as she withdrew.  Mouth bloodied, she said, “Where are they?  What have you done with them?”

“They’re safe,” White Rabbit replied.  “And they will remain so as long as I have use of them.”

“You can’t. . .”

“I can,” White Rabbit replied, withdrawing his bloodied arm, already healed to smooth flesh again. “They were promised to me . . .”

“That pact died when . . .”

“That pact wasn’t just with your mother,” White Rabbit said, his friendly demeanor sharpening into an edge.  “I intended to uphold my end of the deal, but your mother became greedy. I collected what was due.”

“We are not trinkets to be exchanged,” She hissed, baring blood stained teeth. 

“I agree,” White Rabbit replied, his smile fading into a hard gaze.  “You’re orphans.”

Sudden fury flashed across her face, and she lunged for him.  She stopped forward by the chain, her teeth inches from his face.  He caught her wrist before she could swipe her claws across his eyes.  Before she could slash with her other claws, he delivered a strong punch to her middle.  She doubled over, curling so tight her brown pressed into her knees.  

White Rabbit stood, pulling down his sleeve and collecting the stool.  “You poor child.  You’ve lived your whole life in a safe bubble, always protected and never knowing hunger or pain.  Now you have an inkling of the misery your people suffer every day in Makai.”

Through sobs, Emily whimpered, “You monster.  You fucking monster.  Let us go. . .”

“And go where, Emily?”  White Rabbit said, a cruel sneer twisting face.  “You and the kittens have nowhere to go.  No home, no family, no protection from a world that hates your kind.  I’m your only option to keep them safe. Search your heart, do you honestly believe you can protect the kittens from the sapiens?  From Darkcom?  They will look at them and see only little rats to be drowned and killed, not children. Unless you’re naïve to believe they are all like your Jacob. . .”

“Don’t say his name.”  Tears fell from her golden eyes as they burned with hatred.  “You don’t get to say his name. Ever.”

Tilting his head, White Rabbit smirked. “Hmm, you need time to grieve.  Just remember, while you weep in this cell, the kittens are alone and scared. They desperately need you.” White Rabbit walked casually to the cell door and paused.  “Emily, we need not be enemies.  I will give you until tomorrow to weep, curse, and claw the walls, but when I return, I expect to see you ready to become an obedient soldier for the cause.”

“And if I don’t?”  The chain rattled as she rose onto her knees, wings draped onto the floor.

“Then I have no need of orphans who will not become soldiers.  As for what will happen, I’ll leave that to your imagination.”

The door closed behind him, throwing her back into darkness.             

Chapter Text

The black car followed the long paved road, traversing through the forest like a serpent.  Its destination stood ahead through a break in the trees.  Siren’s Nest was built at the edge of the cliff, presenting a magnificent view of the sun rising over the forest and distant mountain range.  Unfortunately, at present the sun was setting out of view, and darkness was descending in shades of purple and hues coloring the clouds.  

When the black car pulled to a stop at the large double doors with a welcoming sign looming above them, the back door opened and a man and a woman climbed out.

The woman wore a strapless sequin top almost too small to contain her bosom.  Voluminous blonde hair fell in cascades down her shoulders as she strutted in tall high heels towards the front doors, holding onto the arm of her companion.  Unlike the revealing woman, the man wore conservative clothing, a black hoodie, long jeans, and gloves.  His face was hidden behind a set of black shades and a medical mask.      

Shouldering heavy duffle bags, the couple walk through the large doors into a reception hall.  The floors, walls, and ceilings were a cream color plaster with minimal decoration.  A few chairs lined the wall, creating a small waiting area.  A man muttered into his cellphone in hushed tones, barely glancing up as the couple approached the reception. A young woman stood behind the wide desk, wearing a cream-colored uniform that could almost blend into the background behind her. 

She greeted them with a bright grin, the slip of a sharp fang hiding behind painted lips. “Welcome to the Siren’s Nest, wellness center.  May I have your name or reservation ticket?”

Petite with long dark braids rolled into tight buns atop her head.  She had a round face reminiscent of girlhood, yet her voice was mature and smooth. Her grin faltered as she took in the couple, the buoyant blonde woman and the quiet dark man, and she took a long sniff.  Then another to be certain.

The couple waited patiently as she reached over and lifted a phone from its cradle.  “Debra, the special guests are here.”  After a moment, she hung up the phone and gave the couple a polite but cool smile.  “The manager will be with you soon.”

“Of course,” the blonde said in a honeyed Southern accent.  “Ya’ll have sucha pretty place here.  Sucha shame it’s out inna middle o’ nowhere.”

The receptionist maintained her smile.  “Our . . .people prefer their solitude, to be away from the public eye.”

“Oh, we understand, suga,” the blonde beamed. “We don’t care much for being in public either.”

The man in the black hoodie stayed perfectly silent, but both the blonde and the receptionist could feel his eyes upon them.

A side door opened, and a woman wearing the same cream-colored uniform stepped out.  Older, with fine lines around her eyes, but eyes still sharp.  She gave the couple a graceful smile that failed to reach her eyes.  “Let me take you to a special room we have prepared for you.”

As they followed Debra, the man examined the halls.  No security cameras, but every hall had a woman in a cream-colored uniform.  Either guiding guests, cleaning, or just standing watch.  All eyes followed them as Debra took them inside an elevator and, using a keycard, unlocked the top floor reserved for ‘special’ guests.         

“Where do your not so ‘special’ guests stay?” the blonde asked casually.  

“They stay on the eastern side of the retreat,” Debra replied.  “So they can enjoy the sunrise.  The eastern side is more. . .private.”

“And how many guests do ya receive?”  

“Siren’s Nest can hold around 50 guests. Our rooms and services are booked at least two years out,” Debra said, her smile faltering to give the questioning blonde an uneasy look.  “We keep these rooms available for. . .” For lack of better words, she continued, “the special guests such as yourselves.”

The elevator stopped at the top floor and opened into a hallway with darker furnishings and decor compared to the public downstairs.  Debra led the way down the silent hall with rooms lining the wall opposite a set of windows facing east, in view of the setting sun.

From outside, they heard splashes and high pitch squeals and giggles.  The man paused at a window and saw the source of the noise. Below, a deck had been built around a pool.  A woman waded in the pool, slowly pushing a foam pool noodle with five winged children holding onto it.

They were no bigger than domestic cats with bat wings sprouting from their backs and long thin tails floating in the water behind them.  With small claws, they clung to the noodle and were trailed through the water while kicking talon feet. The woman was watchful; when a child with jet black skin lost her grip and floundered in the water, she quickly returned the child to the noodle, bending down to encourage her to hold on tighter, by ensuring her tiny hands had a better grip on the foam.

“You call your children kittens?” the man asked in a deep, rich voice, the first time he spoke since arriving. 

Debra glanced out the window, and upon seeing the scene below, her face went through several changes.  First pale with shock, flustered with irritation, and then a smooth calmness.  “Yes. The Ajian word for ‘children’ is ‘ki’dens’. Upon coming to this world and learning the English language, we adopted the word, kittens, for our children.”  After another glance at the woman and kittens below, she added, “I will have them removed if they are disturbing you.”

“No, it’s rare to see such open joy from our people,” the man said. “Do their parents work here?”

“No parents.  They are orphans,” Debra replied.  

“What happened to their parents?”  

Debra’s brow crinkled at the intrusive questions, but answered anyway.  “Their mothers died in childbirth.”

“And their fathers?”

Debra gave him an odd look.  “Males do not raise kittens. Only Ajah can raise Ajah.”  

“Who is the woman with them?  I can tell she’s an Ajah too.  She has an excellent human disguise.”

Debra faltered, her mouth opened as she searched for words, drawing curious glances from both the man and the blonde. Then Debra finally said stiffly, “Please, come this way.  I can arrange a meal to be brought to you or send any messages you may have for the Clan Mother before your meeting tomorrow.”

The man gave one more lingering look at the woman and ‘kittens’ below and followed Debra with the blonde woman.  Walking a faster pace, Debra brought them to a door, which she opened and stood by as they entered, the blonde going in first and scanning the room.

“I trust you’ll find everything accommodating, but please don’t hesitate to call the main office with any requests,” Debra said.  

The suite was decorated in shades of hue with comfort and minimalism in mind.  The man set the heavy duffel bag onto a bed.  As if being cued, the blonde woman flashed Debra a bright smile, showing off perfect white teeth.  “Thank you, I’m sure we’ll settle right in.  Now run along, we’re certain you have other things t’ handle.”

Debra’s smile tightened as she gave a curt bow and closed the door with a small click. The soundproof rooms prevented them from hearing her footsteps in the hall, but that meant no one could hear them.  Or so it would seem.

The man unzipped the duffel bag and withdrew a small device.  He walked about the main room and into the adjacent rooms, holding the device before him and reading the results on a small plastic screen. The blonde woman watched him, waiting patiently. Once satisfied, he switched it off and deposited it back into the duffel bag.  

“No cameras or recorders detected.  We can put our faces on.”

The blonde woman sagged in relief.  “Finally.”

Her body morphed and reshaped itself, expanding into a masculine form.  Blue eyes merged to form a larger ocular socket and turned red.  A trilling voice, devoid of a southern accent, said, “Touchy bunch, aren’t they?”

Isolation and hiding in the public eye tended to do that.  The Ajah had been operating on this mountain undetected for nearly twenty years and seemed content to stay hidden for another twenty. 

White Rabbit pulled off the medical mask and drew the NG tube from the front of the hoodie and plugged it into his nostrils.  He lifted the front of her shirt and adjusted the valve, sighing as fresh blood flushed his system. The aches and pains faded and healed, as the demon blood’s healing properties did their work.  

He began unpacking the duffel bag.  “Scout the area and report back in an hour.  Go unseen.”

“Yes sir,” Plasma said, cracking his neck.  “Not to question your orders, but you sure you’ll be safe here alone?”

“Safe enough for now,” White Rabbit replied, drawing a laptop and clothes covered in plastic from the bag.  “They’re hiding their desperation behind a facade of polite calm.  They won’t attempt anything, at least not until after I meet their Clan Mother.”

Plasma smirked in agreement as his body compressed into itself until it formed the shape of a mouse and ran beneath the door.

White Rabbit carried the plastic into the bathroom and changed clothes. Tossing the disguise aside like discarded skin.  When he emerged wearing the Victorian garb and his mask, his true face, he felt whole and rejuvenated.  Yet, the work never ends. 

He powered on the laptop and reviewed his notes on the Ajah.

Makaian Clans

Subject :  Ajah

Summary: Unique clan being a matriarchy, females dominating all aspects of clan law and leadership. Usually located in deserts or mountainous regions of Makai. Numbering in the very few because of pollution, war, and famine in the areas. 

Leadership:  Each clan is ruled headed by a Clan Mother or Divisha (old Ajah for mother), while supported by a council of Wise Ones, female clan elders. The Divisha’s favored daughter is called the Divika (old Ajah for daughter), who usually is next to lead the clan. 

Biology: The Ajah are apex predators in their regions and have been labeled as blood drinkers by the Makaians as a whole. Whether this is a biological need or a cultural tradition is unknown. 

Ajah have several unique biological factors:

1. They age quickly from birth to adulthood within 36 months with gestation periods of six months.
2. They can delay implantation and/or embryonic diapause depending on the environment or circumstances. 
3. While compatible with most Makaians, there is gender selection with genetics.  If the child is female, it will always be another Ajah.  A male child shares the father’s race (and usually rejected at birth). 

Skills/Abilities:  Being predators, Ajah have excellent hunting skills, able to track prey for miles, especially if there is blood.  

Able to run and fly at high speeds. 

Has dark vision

Higher than average strength

Quick reflexes

And theorized to have limited shapeshifting abilities if consuming enough blood of the impersonated race.

After a moment of review, he added a new note.

Ajah call their children (at least the female ones) kittens, based on the old Ajah word K’den (child). 

Then he switched over to files he compiled about Siren’s Song.

A Special Retreat in the Appalachian Mountains

Built ten years ago by an owner who wishes to remain anonymous, the Siren’s Nest has been a center for rejuvenation for the stressed and tired.  Offering services such as yoga, massage, and mediation.  Most visitors remarked about feeling stronger and healthier after spending a weekend within its walls.  

When I visited the retreat, I was welcomed by lovely women who showed me absolute courtesy in customer service.  She offered me the retreat’s special red currant wine while I looked over their list of activities and services, ranging from hiking to saunas . . .

There were numerous glowing customer reviews and even an article from a travel magazine citing the place as a go-to for R&R weekends or self-care.  All said the same thing: they felt stronger and healthier after enjoying the retreat’s services. A few women claim they left with smoother, more youthful appearances.

“If only they knew the retreat is being operated by demons,” White Rabbit commented.  “Or vampires, as they would call them.”

***

Downstairs, two men entered the lobby of the Siren’s Nest and approached the man speaking into the cellphone.

The first man led the way, walking with a strong stride, unafraid of confrontation.  A mane of sandy curls was tied back from a hard face with broad cheekbones and a hard jaw. Without preamble, he seized the phone from the man.

“Hey!  That was an important call!”  The man said in a reedy voice.  His eyes flashed angrily behind thick glasses.

The second man’s hair was twisted into a long braid and with a high cheekbones face from a Native American heritage, pointed a 9mm at him, instantly silencing the outraged man.  “There’s no cell reception this far out.”

The sandy-haired man snapped the phone shut and studied it.  “This is just a fancy recorder and you’ve been reporting on the retreats guests.”

“We can’t have that,” the man with the braid added.  

The man with glasses paled, but remained firm.  “You can’t just point a gun at me.  I’ll have you arrested.”

“Good luck with that,” the man said, hauling the man to his feet by the scruff of his jacket.  “Can’t call the cops if you don’t have a phone.”

“Come with us,” the sandy-haired man said, pulling out his own gun.  

The receptionist watched them with a solemn and hungry look. A hint of fangs appeared behind her serene smile.

Outside, the men left the parking lot, taking the trail leading deeper into the woods.  The trees were thicker; the canopy keeping out the light of the setting sun.  They continued until the Siren’s Nest fell out of sight, where the forest and trees would absorb any shouts for help.   

The man in glasses began sweating, raised hands trembling above his head. “I have money.  I know people.  I’ll be missed. . .”

“You’re a two bit tabloid reporter,” the sandy-haired man said.  “You work for the Secret Globe, a conspiracy theory site spouting nonsense about monsters and aliens.”  

The reporter turned to gawk at them in shock. “What?  No I’m not. I’m really here for …”

The man with the braid shoved him forward. “You’re not the only one that can research people.”

“I’m not researching people,” the reporter steamed as he stumbled over the grass. He nearly tripped over a stone, but caught himself on a tree. “I’m here about rumors, man, just rumors. Just a bunch of bullshit about vampires, that’s all.”

After a brief moment of silence, one of his captors snorted. The other one just shook his head and jabbed his gun into the reporter’s back to resume walking.

“It’s true, man, ya gotta believe me!”  Accustomed to walking on forest terrain, the reporter continued to stumble along.  Sweat beat it on his forehead, and his glasses kept fogging over.  But whenever he stopped to wipe them clean, he was shoved forward.  “Where the fuck are you taking me?”

“You’ll see when we get there,” the man with the braid replied coolly. 

“You do realize that this is kidnapping, right?” The reporter’s voice became higher and shriller as panic set in.  “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. I got no fucking problem with that.”

“Aw, but we don’t want you to leave,” the sandy-haired man said.

“Yeah, you’ll stick around for a while,” his fellow added.

Then, they came to the clearing.  

When the report saw the tarp spread on the ground, the game hoist, and the buckets.  The front of his pants drew darker as he released his bladder in sheer terror.

“There are vampires,” the sandy-haired man said, pulling an asp from his inner jacket.  “And they’re always thirsty.”

In one smooth motion, he swung the asp and cracked it across the report’s skull.  He fell unconscious onto the ground, prone and unmoving, but still alive.  The swarthy man grabbed his ankles and pulled him across the tarp towards the hoist, securing the ankles with wire. 

“Okay, pull ‘em up,” the man said, giving the thumbs up to the sandy-haired man waiting at the hoist’s crank.

Rotating the crank drew the line taut and within moments, the reporter was suspended by the ankles above a waiting bucket.  A quick flick of a knife cut the throat, and blood streamed from the wound into the bucket.  The reporter’s eyes opened. He choked on the blood, but soon succumbed to shock and blood loss.

The man stepped off the tarp and pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pants pocket.  “Want a smoke, Jacob?”

“Nah, Raintree.  I gotta take the girls home.”  The sandy-haired man picked up a pink baby bag with old stickers along the side.  

“Yesh.  All five?”  Raintree leaned against a tree and lit up a cigarette.

“Of course,” Jacob said, opening the bag and setting five sippy cups side by side on the tarp.  Each red with a peeling decal of daisies on them.  He had bought them cheap at a Dollar Store a while back.  One by one, he held them under the reporter, catching the blood as it fell into the bucket.  

“How’s Emily doing?”  Raintree asked. 

“She’s fine,” Jacob replied. “Tired a lot since the kittens went from crawling to running overnight.  Now they’re trying to fly.”

“Aw shit. You gonna start putting leashes in them?”

“Nah, they’d just chew through them.”  Jacob filled the last sippy cup and screwed on the lid.  

“How is the little one doing?  The one that’s been sick a lot?”  

“Emma?  She’s been doing better.  It took her a while, but she’s walking and running with the rest of them now.”

After placing the cap on it, he packed each sippy cup into the baby bag and zipped it shut.  “You can handle this by yourself?”

Raintree nodded, pulling a drag on the cigarette.  “Yeah, I got this.  I can cart this shrimp to the fire pit myself.”

“Thanks. Next time, I’ll take care of it.”

“Sure, man.  Say hello to Emily and the girls for me.”

***

“Rose, stay still.”

“But I want to play!”

“If you’d just be still, I’d be finished, and you could be playing,” Emily said, snapping the last snap and pulling Rose’s dress down. “There. Go play.”

Rose leapt from where she had sat between Emily’s legs and bounded off on all fours to climb the fence with Katherine. Her small wings beat the air to kick off into a brief flight and land on the chain-link fence.

Emily sighed, knowing it would do no good to warn Rose not to dirty her clothes. Kittens at this age had boundless energy to run, climb, fly, and hunt small animals.  Telling them to be mindful of the condition of their clothes was like telling a fish not to get wet. 

“Anna, you’re next,” Emily said, pulling another dress from a tote bag.

Anna sat on the wooden deck, playing with her most prized possession, a cloth doll with wings and tail sewn on.  Pastel yellow skin had dried from the swim, and her brown hair was drying into a tangled mess like the others. Emily would tackle brushing out the kitten’s tangled hair when they were less active, while eating or just before bedtime. 

As she dressed Anna, she looked over at Emma.  She stood out from the other soft colored kittens due to her pitch-black skin and large blue eyes, which stared up at the third-story windows of the retreat.  She sat on her haunches with her tail curled around her talons. 

“What are you looking at, Emma?”  Emily asked hopefully for a verbal response. 

Emma turned back at her, blinking as if startled from a dream. 

“Were you daydreaming?” Emily asked helpfully.

The black kitten rolled onto her back, struggled to get onto her feet, and toddled to Emily with arms up.  Emily lifted her and settled her next to Anna between her legs on the pool lounge chair.  “Are you tired?  We swam a lot.”

As if answering, Emma yawned, showing off tiny sharp teeth and pink tongue.

“I’m not tired,” Anna said.  

“You will be soon,” Emily said, snapping up the back of Anna’s dress.  

Jacob bought the dresses cheap from the nearby town’s flea market.  The dresses allowed them to have full mobility so they could run on talons or on all fours.  And with a few adjustments with scissors, they could have wings free to fly once they mastered that ability.  For now they could use their wings to help gain more altitude in jumping or gliding down from a high vantage point. Like from the top of the fence.

“Rose!” Emily called.  “Do not glide towards the pool.  You’ll get wet!  Practice flying towards the trees.”

After giving Emily a stubborn frown, Rose scampered back to the fence to climb up again. Emily checked on her other two charges were.  Katherine was leaping off the fence, hoping to glide further than Rose could.  Lily bent down, studying whatever she found interesting, like a beetle or a rock. 

Then Emily heard footsteps on the gravel and smelled the fresh blood.  

Katherine saw him first. “Jacob!”

Rose joined in. “It’s Jacob!”

The kittens stopped what they were doing and charged towards the new arrival. Jacob braced himself with the baby bag behind him as he caught each of the kittens in a deep hug, his thick arms swallowing their small bodies to his chest. 

“Hi, girls!  How was swimming?”

Rose clambered onto his shoulder, tail going around his neck for balance. “It was fun!  I can hold my breath and go under water!”

“Really!?” Jacob said, taking on an astonished expression. 

“I can too!”  Katherine declared, claiming Jacob’s other shoulder than her perch. 

“You both can!?” Jacob said, his shock deepening. 

“Jacob!  I saw a butterfly!’  Lilly said, attaching herself to his arm with talons and hands.  “It was blue and black!”

“Wow!  Did you catch it?”

“No,” Lily frowned.  “Emily wouldn’t let me.”

“Probably for the best.  Butterflies should fly free.”

Anna stomped her feet, eager to join her sisters in greeting.  I pressed together the last snap on her dress. I barely nudged her before she leapt off the lounge chair to cling to Jacob’s middle. 

“I missed you!” Anna cried, though it had only been a handful of hours since Jacob brought them to the retreat. 

“I missed you too,” Jacob said, patting her back comfortingly.  Anna’s separation anxiety made her treat every parting tearfully as if years would pass before they would see each other again.

Emma scooted off the lounge chair carefully.  She had only started walking upright last week and still had trouble finding her balance sometimes.  Seeing her approaching, Jacob knelt and holding Anna to his chest with one hand, he held out the other to Emma, scooping her up to join in the hug.  

“Hey, Emma, how are you feeling today?”  Jacob asked, giving the fever prone kitten a look over. She seemed fine, blinking curiously up at him with those large blue eyes.  “Can you say Jacob?”

“Bub,” she offered.

“Jacob.  Ja-cob,” he said slowly.

“Bub?”  

“We’ll keep trying, kid,” Jacob said, hugging her.

Lily said, “I can say Jacob!”  

Rose added, “So can I!”

Jacob’s eyes met Emily’s, and they exchanged warm smiles as he sat in the lounge chair next to hers. Handing off two kittens to Emily, he pulled the baby bag forward.  “I have something for you.  Are you thirsty?”

The kittens trembled in anticipation.  Even Emma’s eyes glowed with anticipation as she smelled the blood.  Then it became a race to grab a cup as Jacob produced them.

“Hey, hey, it’s not going to run away,” Jacob said.  

“Kittens, settle down,” Emily admonished, helping Jacob take out the cups and distribute them.

The two of them were scratched for their efforts, but the kittens were happily drinking the blood.  Rose lay on her back on the deck, gripping the sippy cup with both hands as she drank deep. Anna curled into the crook of Jacob’s arm, drinking as she had when she had been an infant. Emily helped Emma with hers, holding it by the bottom, ensuring the kitten could drink every drop.

“This is pure blood?  Not mixed with milk?”  Emily asked.

“Yep, straight from the source, a nosy reporter,” Jacob replied.  “We think he was trying to get some article for a tabloid.  We already checked his background and he won’t be missed.  At least not for a while, and if someone comes asking questions, there won’t be any trace he was ever here.”

“I see,” Emily said. She watched the kittens happily drink, then eyed Jacob.  “You know drinking pure blood will knock them out.”

“Yep,” Jacob said.  “Which makes for a peaceful ride home and an early night in.”  He took care not to use one of the kitten’s least favorite words, bedtime.

“Good thinking,” Emily sighed, feeling tired.  While she adored the kittens, they had boundless energy, which made keeping up with them exhausting, even for her. 

“Coming home with us?”  Jacob asked, taking her hand. 

She smiled, giving him a soft squeeze.  “I have to feed too. Then I’ll come home.  I washed and folded the laundry.  I put the baskets in the truck.”

“So nice of them to allow you to use their washing machines,” Jacob said dryly.  

“Yes, it is nice of them,” Emily replied evenly.  

Jacob lowered Anna onto the lounge chair and stood.  The kitten had fallen fast asleep, her small hand barely holding her empty cup. “You know, I could take the clothes to McKenzie.  Their laundromats work just as well as the ones here.”

“That’s a two hour drive and what if someone sees the blood stains?” Emily said firmly.  “Especially on children’s clothes? That will draw too much attention.”

“We could own our own washing machine,” Jacob said.

Emily could sense where this conversation was going and shook her head. “Jacob, no.”

“Emily, you don’t have to put up with. . .”

“I only have to endure a few more weeks,” Emily said, cradling a sleeping Emma close to her chest for comfort.  “A few more weeks and my punishment will be over.”

Jacob stared at her, swallowing back the words he wanted to say.  Instead, he said, “Sure, babe. I’ll go get the truck and get these kittens home.”

***

White Rabbit watched the family from the window. He silently gazed into their lives, picking it apart and learning of their secrets from their gestures and gazes.  He learned each of the kitten’s mannerisms from watching them play. 

The kittens were different colors, reminiscent of children’s toys of colorful animals.  The pink and blue ones had a rivalry; they wrestled and raced often. The pink was larger and stronger while the blue was slender and faster; they were nearly equal in physical games.  

The white one was inquisitive and investigated the ground, inspecting any curious item she found on the ground. And she was full of questions, which the Ajah caretaker patiently addressed while she dried and dressed the kittens.

The yellow kitten sitting quietly next to the caretaker was sweet and gentle. She played with her little doll as if it were her own child. He watched her cradle it and offer it a rock if it were food.  

The most curious one was the pitch-black kitten staring up at his window with large blue eyes. Could she see him? The windows were tinted to block out the sun and the view of any outside observer, but he still waved at her to see if she responded. She only blinked back, causing him to wonder if she was blind.  No, she looked back at the caretaker.  Rising to her small taloned feet, she toddled to where she said, dressing the yellow child.

Then the sapien man arrived, and the kittens bounded to him in jubilation at his arrival.  White Rabbit didn’t need to hear them to know they were recounting their achievements and experiences.  And the sapien patiently listened to them.   

The sapien and the Ajah shared a relationship.  White Rabbit could see the casual familiarity between them, the way they held each other’s gazes and touched. He couldn’t hear them from this high up, but could see their lips move and occasionally hear the hum of a voice, and could sense the love and affection between them. 

Then the affection cooled between them as a touchy topic was brought up. To deflect from an uncomfortable topic, the sapien left and returned moments later with a truck. It bore scratches and muddy tires detailing the many times it had traversed the forest paths.  

He brought out a large bassinet, and one by one the Ajah and the sapien placed the sleeping kittens into it and loaded it into the passenger side of the truck.  The Ajah exchanged a few words, likely a promise to meet soon or confirming a future plan. The quick kiss displayed their fondness for each other, but also revealed their discretion of being caught in the act.

The Ajah waved goodbye as the truck pulled away, taking a path that led north. He would see if Plasma had investigated whatever led that way.

Debra’s refusal to speak about the caretaker intrigued him.  She would speak about the children, but wouldn’t acknowledge his question about the Ajah below. Instead of a deflecting answer of ‘she’s just their caretaker’ or ‘part of staff’, or simply “no one” she outright ignored his question altogether. And wouldn’t look outside except for a brief glance to see what held his attention. 

And he had seen this before in Makai when demon communities would shun a member as punishment. Usually the crime wasn’t serious like murder or stealing, but still deeply offended the community. The transgressions were due to some social disgrace such as adultery or, in some clans, homosexuality.  Was she being shunned because of her relationship with the sapien? If shunned, why assign her orphans?

“Couriouser and Courisouer, cried Alice,” he quoted under his breath, especially when the Ajah turned back to the pool.

She drew a deep breath and exhaled, releasing tension that long hours of childcare could bring. Then she stretched with her arms above her head, and the change occurred.  From her shoulders, above the hem of her off shoulder blouse, extra limbs extended before unfolding into large bat-webbed wings.  A tail emerged from above the denim shorts, falling like a serpent onto the wooden deck behind her.  She stood up on the balls of her feet as the toes molded together to form three large clawed toes and the heels extended into a hallux talon.  Her hips and thighs shifted, becoming more flexible, able to transition from walking on two legs to running on four when the situation required it. Most eye-catching of all were the golden marks that spread across her body like a second vascular system.  

She approached the pool in a few light steps, slipping the blouse off and shucking off the denim shorts, tossing garments nearby, but clear of any water.  Then she dropped into the water, barely making a splash as she stretched out, enjoying the pool to herself.

White Rabbit studied her. She was young, likely born on Earth, and never knew the harsh life in Makai. Her body was free of the open sores, cancers, and non-healing injuries that plagued the Makaians. Clean, healthy, and despite her situation with the clan, happy.  She had never been oppressed, enslaved, tortured, nor the terror of never knowing when death would claim her.  She was simply a young woman enjoying a solo swim in a pool. 

He felt drawn to her, like a pilgrim finding a relic, a symbol of his faith found in a forgotten temple. 

He heard footsteps from down the hall.  He pulled his eyes from the Ajah, stepping away from the window.  The last thing he needed was to make a poor impression on a female-led clan by giving them reason to view him as a sexual deviant gazing at a bathing woman.

An Ajah in her human guise arrived and bowed to him.  “The Clan Mother will see you now.”

“Let’s not keep her waiting,” White Rabbit said, smiling, happy to have attained a new goal from this convention.

Chapter Text

Before Emma faced the Approaching Storm, became a Songstress, was recognized as a Sage, and rose as Clan Mother, she was wedged between her sisters in a bassinet.  A blanket covered the bassinet to block out the sunlight.  Her sister’s susurrus breathing had lulled her into a deep sleep, where memories of her mother’s womb still lingered.  The truck hit a pothole, and Jacob cursed, waking Emma.  Anna whimpered and fell promptly back to sleep.  

Emma could hear the gentle hum of the radio and Jacob humming along with the country singer.  When she emerged from the blanket, Jacob greeted her with a smile. “Awake?  Wanna drive with me?”

She climbed from the bassinet, closing both hands and talons. She crawled across the seat to Jacob, and he cupped her bottom to bring her to his shoulder.  She snuggled against him, yawning, and found a comfortable place to lay her head near his neck.

Jacob idly patted her back in time with the slow music, almost lulling her back to sleep, but she wasn’t quite ready to return to slumber yet. She bit into the soft skin of his neck.  Jacob flinched, but did nothing to stop her from helping herself to the welling blood from the slight wound.

As she licked up the blood, she tasted Jacob’s deep love for her and her sisters. He was a protective giant, who provided and played with them.  Through his blood, she could sense the deep sadness he thought left behind, but still followed him.  His heart had been wounded many times, but his life on the mountain had helped heal the sting. 

And just as she could feel his past, she could see his future, and it scared her.  There would be pain, both of flesh and heart. She shivered; it was an unwanted reminder their time was short.

“You cold, Emma?”  Jacob asked, switching off the AC. “Want to go back into the basket?”

She shook her head, her claws tightening on his clothes and hair.  If time was short, then she would enjoy the peaceful moments. There wouldn’t be many more.

The man with two faces had arrived.

She saw him in her dreams, grinning broadly with both faces. One white crisscross with stitches, and the other covered in burns.  One face he accepted; the other he hated, so he kept it hidden away by blood.  

She felt his presence watching them. In her young heart, she knew that was the beginning and also an end. While it terrified her, she also knew there was no changing the outcome.

While Emma had never seen a river, she understood the concept.  It functioned like time.  A constant stream of motion, and like a river, people, like objects, flowed within it.  They could be moved, added, or taken from the flow, but could not change the flow itself.  

As if standing on the riverbank, Emma could see upstream and downstream with the flow. Jacob’s past, his wounds of the heart, occurred upstream.  Terrible things were coming from downstream.  Emma knew she could not change what was coming.  She could only accept it and hope they would be equal to the burden. 

For now, she would enjoy this peaceful present as long as it lasted.

***

Jacob arrived at the farm.  Miles from the retreat and Forrester Town, it sat in isolation surrounded by my forest with a mountain slope behind it. Jacob parked the truck next to the cabin, and carefully set the sleeping Emma into the bassinet with her sisters. 

With the utmost care, Jacob lifted the bassinet from the truck.  Carrying it past Emily‘s herb and vegetable garden, he headed towards the silo. When the kittens were infants, they were kept in the house as they needed constant attention. When they became mobile, the house became a disaster zone with broken dishes, scratched floors and furniture, and shredded blankets.  The silo served as a safe place for the kittens to sleep at night and as a dry playhouse when it rained.

It was dark and cool, with openings for kittens to climb through while allowing ventilation of cool air during hot nights. A nest suspended in the center, hung by several cords and ropes.  Boards lined the edges to prevent any accidental rolling out in sleep.

Jacob turned a crank next to the doorway, and the nest slowly lowered to his level.  Then, one by one, he laid the sleeping kittens into the nest until they had formed a cuddle pile.  Even Emma, who had fallen back asleep clinging to his shoulder, was tucked in with her sisters and covered with a heavy blanket to simulate a mother’s wing. Then he raised the nest and carried out chores around the farm while there was light.

Night fell, and the kittens still slept. Save for one.  

Emma lay awake, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it thudding in her thin chest. She felt it drawing closer and closer.  Like a noose tightening around her throat, it became harder to draw breath.  She detached herself from the cuddle pile, crawled from beneath the blanket and took several deep breaths in the open air.

A flutter of feathers announced an arrival.  She looked up and saw the black bird perched at the opening near the silo’s top.  She had seen such birds pecking in the old overgrown farm field.  If one sought food too close to the silo, she and her sisters had chased them away, laughing when they squawked in indignation. None of the birds had red eyes that gazed so inquisitively at her and her sisters. 

Emma felt her blood turn cold, and she froze, flattening herself onto the nest.  The bird tilted its head at the ropes, preparing itself to hop down into the silo with her and her sisters.

Her heart burned, chasing away the chill of fear.  Emma rose up, spreading her wings wide, and growled.  It began as a weak mewl, until she put her weight behind it, and it rattled from her throat in a battle cry.

The bird turned its red eyes to her, ruffling its feathers.  

Emma stood and waved her claws at it, warning it away.  If it came closer, then she would fight it.  She would kill it before it could harm her sisters.   

“Whatever, kid,” the bird said and flitted out of the window.

Emma plopped backwards onto her rear, chest hitching as she caught her breath. They were safe for now.  She huddled down next to Anna, listening to her sister’s breathing and sometimes purring in her sleep as she clutched her beloved doll. Behind her, Rose mumbled while Lily stretched.  Katherine rolled over, pressing a wing against Emma’s back.

Emma closed her eyes, inhaling their scents and taking comfort in their warm presence.  She would enjoy this peace for now, knowing tomorrow would bring more fears and dangers. 

Chapter Text

White Rabbit heard a disgruntled growl behind him.  Though a demon of few words, Cavaliere could make his opinions known through lethal glares and rumbling noises in his throat.  What set him off this time was an Ajah gazed at them a bit too intently, which crossed a line in Cavaliere’s book.  

The demon knight held no love for Ajah. He glared at them as if planning to raze their retreat and kill off the clan.  But he was a loyal soldier; he wouldn’t act unless White Rabbit gave the signal. For now he served as guardian shadow, the one sword the Ajah allowed in White Rabbit’s meeting with the Clan Mother.

The designer’s original intention for the room was for it to be a conference space. The carpet was an off-white color, matching the walls. Large windows that would have allowed natural light to illuminate the room, but they were covered by thick curtains. 

High on a platform, Clan Mother Mishil sat upon a wooden throne.  She forewent the human disguise, wings hung open behind her, and a long tail curled around her talons.  Mishil dressed in a sari of deep purple and covered in jewelry, from the rows of necklaces on her neck to the rings decorating each finger. Jingles and clinks could be heard whenever she moved.  Between her horns, a green jewel hung on gold chains and gleamed like a third eye as her amber gaze received him.

Below her sat four elder Ajah, each of them wearing sari dresses and regarded with deep suspicion and hostility.  White Rabbit recalled they were called the Wise Ones of the clan, each having many centuries of history between all of them.  They served as healers, adjudicators, advisors, soothsayers, and a council for the Clan Mother.  

With a smirk, White Rabbit played the part of a visiting foreign dignitary.  He bowed to the Clan Mother, hand over his heart and other outward as if asking for a dance.  Mishil may be the queen of a small kingdom, but she was still a queen, and if he wished to form an alliance, he must treat her as such. 

Mishil regarded him with bright, sharp eyes, and he could feel them taking in his appearance.  Even could see her nose sniffing the air as if attempting to smell his intentions. 

“You are welcomed to our mountain,” the Clan Mother said in a low, sultry voice.  Yet, he could still hear the unspoken words ‘for now’. 

“Your reception has been gracious, Mother,” White Rabbit said jovially, using her title.  “And I have brought a token of friendship.”  Before him was a small table with a chair, but he remained standing.  He set the case on the table and pushed it forward.

All eyes fell on the case.  One of the Wise Ones made a flicking motion, and a young Ajah standing guard came forward.  She shot White Rabbit a warning look as she slowly opened the case and revealed the contents: a thick tome bound in leather with archaic writing on the cover.  

An audible gasp broke the silence.  One of the Wise Ones leaned forward, her eyes slitted as she peered at the tome.  “Is that. . .the writings of Alta the Sage?”

“Those have been lost during the Sacrament Raids two centuries ago,” another Wise One whispered in awe.

White Rabbit’s eyes were on the Clan Mother’s.  The sudden lift of her brows betrayed her surprise in her neutral gaze.  He had heard of Mishil Silvertongue, and her rise to power from being a warlord’s young wife to becoming one of the Tyrant Mundus’s consorts. At least until she was exiled after her failed coup against the Tyrant. And now, she was on Earth, serving as Clan Mother of her own clan and operating a retreat to hide themselves from the sapiens.  If he had taken her by surprise with his token, then he had scored a victory against the manipulative witch.

Now she owed him a token out of respect, and she didn’t like it.

“This must have taken . . .resources to attain,” Mishil said. “I see you have much to offer despite your small group.” A subtle insult wrapped in an acknowledgement of his capabilities.   

White Rabbit took it in stride, knowing he had seized the advantage in his exchange. “I hope this proves my affection for your people, Mother.”

Mishil smiled coldly.  “And I’m assuming this affection comes with more . . .’gifts’?”

White Rabbit returned her smile.  “Only if the affection is returned, Mother.”

“Of course.”

***

For the next hour, they played a game of diplomacy and intrigue.  Both revealed and hid their cards, making both offers and demands.  Cavaliere stood as a dark sentinel, casting warning gazes at the Ajah standing guard over their own leaders.  

White Rabbit knew he would gain very little in the initial meeting.  This was a flexing of claws and drawing of battle lines.  Mishil was a shrewd woman who could see through manipulation and deception, making her an opponent he dared not underestimate. She didn’t gain her place in Mundus’s inner circle just by being beautiful and ruthless.

And she looked familiar somehow.  Not long into their meeting, White Rabbit realized she bore a striking resemblance to the Ajah in the pool.  Her features were older, sharper, but he could see it.  Judging from their ages, they could be mother and daughter. 

If true, it could be useful information.  Especially if the daughter has been shunned.  What crime could a Clan Mother’s daughter, the Divika, commit to be shunned by the clan?

At the conclusion of their meeting, Mishil said, “You have given me much to consider and I will have answers for you by tomorrow night.”

“I’ve found the best decisions are not made in haste,” White Rabbit agreed amicably.  “Though, I would ask for a favor.”

The Clan Mother’s polite smile lacked warmth. “If it’s within my power to grant, I shall. Within reason, of course.”

“Of course,” White Rabbit agreed with as much warmth.  “While I am familiar with most Makaians, this is the first time I’ve encountered your people.  All the information I have is second hand, from Makaians who ‘know’ of your people, but I wish to fill the gaps of my knowledge from the source.  Both scientifically and culturally.”

“I can arrange a guide,” Mishil said.  

“Actually, I have someone in mind,” White Rabbit said casually.

***

Siren’s Song operated a restaurant where guests could enjoy eating under the night sky.  Most of the meals were vegan or organic, per customer tastes or diet. The most popular item on the menu was the red wine called Siren’s Blood, a rich flavor with a hint of salt, only found in Siren’s Nest. 

Few people ate this late, but someone usually came outside to enjoy a smoke or time alone.  Emily leaned on the railing and waited, watching the glass doors from the corner of her eye. Being Unseen, the retreat was barred to her, but she could seek prey on the grounds so long as she didn’t disturb anyone.  

While she knew Jacob would offer his blood without hesitation, feeding on him would make him weak and lightheaded for a day. And that would make her feel guilty. He had done much for her in the last three years during her punishment.  She didn’t want to think about where she would be if he hadn’t helped her. 

A wave of depression moved through her.  She shoved it down, reminding herself that in a few weeks, she would be welcomed back to the clan and she could raise the kittens with the other families. They would accept her back, embrace her as one of their own, and she would rejoin her Song as if she had never left. 

Emily lost herself in the daydream, knowing in the morning, it would be one more day until she would no longer be Unseen.  She didn’t notice she wasn’t alone until Antoly cleared her throat. 

Staring, Emily didn’t dare speak, terrified she had broken a rule that would extend her punishment for another year. The Wise One was in her human disguise, looking quite small in her blue sari. Bones and bells dangled from the head of her staff by thin strips of leather and chimed when she moved it. 

Her aged, sapien face fixed Emily with old, but sharp eyes.  “Come with me.”

***

“You’ll answer his questions,” Antoly ordered.

The hall was dimmed and lacked the comforting decorations of the eastern wing. This wasn’t a place meant for sapien guests.

“Yes, Wise Antoly,” Emily said. Has air conditioning always been this cold? Emily resisted hugging herself and rubbing her arms for warmth.     

“But you will tell him nothing about the village or mountain,” Antoly warned.

“I won’t,” Emily promised.  

“He’s been told he is not to do anything . . . invasive,” Antoly said the unfamiliar word as if it were tainted or perverse.  

Emily felt her stomach knot in fear. They stopped at a door, one of the private counseling rooms. Emily gazed woefully at the door. She wanted to run, go home to Jacob and the kittens.  She had no idea what use a strange demon would have for her.  Yet, being an Unseen, she was expendable, and if she refused, they might see it as disobedience and extend her punishment.

No, she couldn’t bear it.  Not when the end was so close.

Antoly studied her, her lips in a tight line with her fangs poking over the lower lip. “Any discomfort you experience at his hands will be compensated later.”

In other words, endure whatever he wants. Emily wondered what he offered that Mishil, her own mother, would be so willing to accommodate him. Even with her own exiled daughter? 

Without another word, Antoly left.  Emily watched the old woman hobble away until the thud and chiming of her staff faded into silence. She hesitated, hating the hard thumping in her chest.

My teeth and claws are sharp. I am swift and strong. Nothing can hurt me unless I allow it. 

A chant her father taught her when she was a small kitten and had feared thunderstorms. She recited the chant whenever thunder boomed and lightning split the sky.  Since then, she has used it whenever she was scared or uncomfortable.  It still helped her to this day.

She grasped the doorknob and went inside. The room was dim except for a single lamp on a table. She could smell freshly brewed tea and saw a tea set on a small table with two lattice chairs. Steam rose from the spout of a porcelain teapot.

“Come in and make yourself comfortable.” The deep, rich voice belonged to a large male sitting in one of the lattice chairs, one leg over the other and holding a teacup. 

She stared at the individual. She had seen Makaians of different shapes and sizes, both of the clan and refugees, but never anyone like him. Instead of rags or armor, he wore a Victorian frock.  And he lacked the aggression or fear she had witnessed in most males. A white silk-gloved hand held the teacup with a precise elegance, and he set it on the saucer with practiced ease.  Most unnerving of all was his size.

While skilled hunters and apex predators, the Ajah were on the small side of the Makaian scale.  They were light-boned to allow flight with their thin wings, to silently stalk prey, and to transition easily from bipedal to a quadrupedal gait.  However, this physiology put them at a disadvantage in weight and height with most Makaians.

This demon had a solid build and great height at over six feet, outstripping her by nearly a hundred pounds and a foot taller. While she was confident she could defend herself, it could be over within moments if he surprised and grabbed her before she could retaliate or escape.

However, his poise and demeanor betrayed no threats. He sat in the chair, watching her with amber eyes that seemed to carry an inner glow from the intensity of his stare. “You needn’t be afraid.  I have no wish to harm you.”

Emily realized she was staring and looked away, despite her instinct not to take her eyes off him. She still held the door open behind her, and every fiber of her being wanted to bolt.  Shutting the door would feel like trapping herself with him. Yet, this is what her mother and the Wise Ones wanted, and they still held her reins until her punishment was over. She closed the door and felt trapped.     

“Have a seat.” He indicated the chair opposite him with an open hand, devoid of weapons or claws. “I hope you like chamomile tea. I find it’s quite suitable for clandestine meetings.”

Shame unfurled inside her; he offered her hospitality and courtesy, and she hung back as if he were a bizarre beast.  Technically, she should consider him such; being male, an outsider, and appearing to be a rabbit with long white ears. Yet, if she offended him and he complained to the Wise Ones. . .

“I like chamomile,” she answered, approaching the deep cushioned chair.  It offered ample room to curl up, tucking her talons beneath her and curling her tail around her legs. She held the teacup with both hands, taking a measure of comfort of feeling its warmth in her palms. 

“Then I am pleased I chose correctly,” he said. He leaned forward - Emily’s body went tense in reflex - and studied her. “You may call me White Rabbit.”

White Rabbit?  That was a little on the nose, but then perhaps he didn’t wish to give his true name. White Rabbit was to the point, and everyone would know of whom the speaker meant. 

“I’m Emily,” she said, finding a sense of oddness.  For years, she had spoken only to Jacob and the kittens.

“Emily is a beautiful name,” White Rabbit said.  “It’s not Makaian though.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed.  “My mother wanted to embrace this world as her own so she started the tradition of giving daughters Earth names. She named me Emily after the character from A Rose for Emily.”

“A Rose for Emily?”  The White Rabbit tilted his head, intrigued. “That is a short story with a macabre ending. Did your mother like that story?”

Emily stared at him in surprise. She had never met someone who was familiar with A Rose for Emily and knew it wasn’t a romance, as the title would indicate. “Yes, she liked how no one suspected she had murdered her lover and unknowingly covered it up.  Everyone underestimated her, believing she was a poor homely spinster when in actuality, she was cunning and got what she wanted. At least, that’s how my mother sees the story.”

“I’ve only met your mother tonight and hearing this doesn’t surprise me,” he chuckled.

She felt more relaxed. This wasn’t bad. She took a sip of the chamomile tea.

He watched her drink. “Does your kind solely depend on blood for food?”

“No,” she said.  “We still need food and water, but blood is the third thing we need.”

“You need food for nutrition.  Water for hydration.  What does blood give you?”  White Rabbit inquired.

“I don’t know.  I never thought about it. I know if I don’t drink blood, my stomach starts to hurt and won’t stop until I drink blood.” Which reminded her she had yet to feed.  Her stomach tightened to remind her of this fact.

“The purpose of blood is to transport oxygen, nutrients, and wastes to their appropriate destinations within the body,” White Rabbit explained. “Is it possible your kind cannot produce their own blood?”

“I don’t know,” Emily said. 

“Are you able to feed on blood from other Ajah?”

Emily shook her head. “No!  Of course not! Ajah don’t do that!”

“Oh, my question was not meant to offend,” White Rabbit said, leaning back, amused. “I’m simply curious about your kind.  I am quite unfamiliar with Ajah.”

She didn’t mean to give such a visceral reaction, but the thought of Ajah feeding on other Ajah was offensive. That didn’t happen among her kind. One could feed on males, sapiens, outsiders, and animals, but never other Ajah. It was a forbidden practice and severely punished, though, thankfully, no one had committed such a crime in her clan’s history.

Emily said, “Ajah do not feed on Ajah. It is not done.” In afterthought, she added, “I’m sorry for my reaction.  Your question took me by surprise.”

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, Emily,” White Rabbit said softly. “If I overstep with my questions, then we can change the topic to something safer. How did your mother become a Clan Mother?”

How did he know her mother was Clan Mother? The Wise Ones must have talked about her with him before Antoly collected her. 

“She challenged the previous Clan Mother for the Rite of Rule and won.” 

“Was this before or after she wedded your father?”

“After, but wedded isn’t the right word,” Emily said, not meeting his eyes.  “She took him as her mate.”

“Which means?”  White Rabbit wouldn’t let this topic go. 

Emily sighed.  “It means she killed his previous mate and bedded him before the spilled blood turned cold on the floor.  Mother enjoyed telling me the story of my conception at bedtime.”

He couldn’t hold back the snicker. “That’s a sordid version of How I Met Your Mother.”

The chamomile tea eased the tension and she relaxed into the chair. This wasn’t as bad as she had feared. 

“Emily, why are you being shunned?”  He gave her an encouraging smile, as if his words hadn’t thrown ice water on her.

Shame, fear, and humiliation tore into her and she could barely hold the tea cup steady. “I’m not.” The lie left her lips before she could stop it. 

“The Wise Ones referred to you as Unseen. Ajah are not the only Makaians to utilize shunning or excommunication as punishment. It’s also a practiced recompense by sapien communities.”

How could she speak so openly about the worst mistake and heartbreak of her life with a stranger? Even silently remembering it brought pain and regret. She could refuse, tell him it was a matter between her and the Wise Ones, but how much did they tell him? Maybe he already knew and wanted to hear her side of it? Or was this a test?

And worst, if she refused him, would they extend her punishment? Antoly did say any discomfort she experienced would be compensated. 

“I disobeyed my mother,” Emily said, each word a scrap across her soul.

He raised his eye ridges in startlement.  “I didn’t realize a child disobeying a parent would be regarded so harshly among the Ajah.”

“It is when your mother is the Clan Mother, the Divika, and you do it publicly before the clan.”

Had it only been three years when she was carefree and happy? When she was part of a Song, could hunt with her father, and had a home among her people. Though only three years, one grew up quickly being ostracized by your own people and family.

She expected him to pry further, to ask how she had disobeyed Mishil, instead he offered to refill her tea and asked her about Songs.

Emily explained Songs were Ajah hunting parties who lived together. Songs were called upon to provide food, defend the clan, and serve the Clan Mother. Each Song recorded their achievements and losses in lyrical poetry or songs. Most of the Ajah’s history came from these poems written by songs of the past. Many songs had been lost over the years, but the ones that endured were the ones still sung by the clans.

“Were you part of a Song, Emily?”

She noticed he liked saying her name. Hearing her name spoken in his rich voice made her feel a little warm. “Yes, but I had to leave it. . .when. . .I couldn’t be part of it as an Unseen.  My punishment will be over in a few weeks, so I can rejoin them then.”

“If you were ostracized, then how did you become the caretaker of five kittens?”

Emily stared at him astounded.  How much did the Wise Ones tell him about her?  Wasn’t part of being Unseen meant no one in the clan could speak openly about you?  

“I found them,” Emily said, looking into the tea cup.  

“Found them?  Under a cabbage patch leaf I presume?”

“They were given to the mountain,” Emily said somberly. “Abandoned.”

There was a moment of silence from White Rabbit before he said, “I see.”

She had found Emma first while hunting.  She heard the pitiful cries and believed it was a dying animal until she found the bundle holding a weeping kitten. Though she feared reprisal from the clan, she couldn’t leave the infant behind and nursed her back to health at the farm with Jacob.

Perhaps in an instinctual desire to be a mother, she went out to those same woods and found the others over the span of weeks.  Rose had been left next to a log, Lily in a patch of flowers, Katherine next to a stream, and Anna hanging in a satchel from a lower hanging branch. Each one, she brought to the farm, caring for them as if they had come of her flesh. 

She stopped going to that part of the mountain.  Five kittens were too many between herself and Jacob.  She could only pray there were no weeping bundles that would never be found. 

A week after she found Anna, when the kittens were beginning to find their feet, Antoly appeared on their doorstep. She ignored Jacob who hovered protectively over the sleeping kittens in the bassinet and addressed Emily alone.

Antoly said Emily could raise the kittens as it would delay her estrus for a few years.  By then, Mishil hoped to find a suitable mate to sire Emily’s daughters. Then without another word, Antoly left the farm and Emily felt both relieved she wouldn’t be punished further, and frustrated.  Would her mistake ever be forgiven?   

Then she felt it was her turn to ask a question.  “Did the Wise Ones tell you about the kittens?”

“I saw them when I arrived.  You were playing with them in the pool,” White Rabbit said.  “What are their names?”

Emily’s back stiffened. Why was he so interested in them?  Was this a friendly conversation to build rapport, or was there an ulterior motive?  Asking their names didn’t seem too intrusive, and what harm could it do?

She told him their names and how Jacob had named each one.  Emma after his sister, and Anna after his sister. Then he named Rose because of her pink-toned skin.  Lily because of her alabaster coloring.  And Katherine because, in his opinion, she looked like a Katherine.

“Who is Jacob?”  

“Jacob works for the clan.  We have a few sapiens who go where we cannot.”

“And how do you ensure their loyalty?”

“Money,” Emily said simply.  “And occasionally remind them they are being watched. A few years back, we made an example of one that tried to steal from the clan.”

The man had been stripped naked, and flesh exposed for any Ajah to bite and drink. However, only one Ajah could drink from him at a time, to ensure he died over hours instead of minutes. 

“Were you shunned because of Jacob?”

Had he tried to catch her off guard with that question? Emily furrowed her brow.  “No. My punishment began after I met Jacob.”

She didn’t like the nod of understanding, as if she had unwittingly given him a piece to a puzzle about her. 

“Are you thirsty?”

Hunger pangs clenched her stomach, making the tea feel heavy in her gut. “I haven’t fed yet.”

White Rabbit gave her a knowing smile and leaned over to a cooler where he withdrew a blood bag. “I had this prepared for you.”

At the sight of blood, her mouth watered.  She preferred taking her blood from the vein, but being Unseen had taught her a better appreciation of gifts. “Thank you. You didn’t need to.”

He handed it to her, the tips of his gloved fingers brushing over her claws. “Think nothing of it. I want us to be friends, Emily.”

If he stopped asking intrusive questions about her life, then she might be inclined to accept friendship from him.  For now, she would satiate the thirst. Being short-lived creatures, sapiens were desperate to extend their longevity, especially their youthful appearances.  They embraced any new rejuvenating treatment, especially PRP treatments, where blood is drawn and plasma is infused into the skin.  What the sapiens don’t know, instead of infusing their own blood, they get a dose of Ajah blood instead, which does the trick better than human blood could ever do. 

It had been a while since she had last drunk from a blood bag. Taking care not to spill, she bit into the plastic, creating a small hole with a tooth, and sucked gingerly.  With each swallow, the sweet, salty liquid coursed down her throat and warmed her insides.  She felt better, whole, and. . .tired.

Which was strange.  She wasn’t a kitten who needed sleep to process pure blood.  It had been a long day. Maybe it was finally catching up to her?

“Emily, do you like the blood?”

She nodded.  “Yes, it. . .it’s good.”  She struggled not to yawn and finished the blood.

A pleasant lassitude came over her, and when she squeezed the last drop of blood from the bag into her mouth. She didn’t notice the White Rabbit had moved from his chair to stand next to her. 

“Do you want to lie down?” He took her by the arm and drew her from the chair.

No, she didn’t want to lie down, but was too tired to offer any protest as he led her towards a table covered in a white sheets. 

***

The drug worked faster than he had anticipated.  He thought he’d have to wait for it to take effect, but she almost dozed off before she finished the bag. She never noticed the small hole in the tubing where he injected the sedative before she arrived.

Perhaps the Ajah's ability to absorb blood into their vascular system quickened the drug’s work. He would look into that soon enough.

“Up you go,” he said, helping her onto the table.

“I. . .shouldn’t lie down. . .” she muttered, but curled up on the table, wings folding around her.

He stepped over to the counter where a cloth lay flat.  He removed it, revealing a set of surgical tools and syringes. “Don’t worry. You’re in good hands, my dear.”