Read Online Vampiris Sancti: The Elf by Katri Cardew - Free Book Online Page B

chameleon
used for information was a soul requiring little corruption, yet
full of enough fear and greed to make cultivating his company
worthwhile. If the Varkja and Martyc were too dangerous to bother
with then annoying a Poqir would be the next best thing and so she
sat atop an interesting box that hummed on the roof. Poqirs tended
to be lazy beggars that would seek out the nearest social outlet
the moment their employer was occupied elsewhere. The only time the
company of the devious scouts were sought was for either
information or employment. Unpopular, due to the practices of his
kind, he would not be socially welcome at the general meeting spot
called the Centre. The protected sanctuary run by nomad Giryg
demons would be too full of rules, observers, and Martyc influence.
The Poqir loved to sell their information twice, so she formulated
almost a plan while she danced about enjoying the mist of rain
until he did something worth following. Not a hard call, because
despite the filth sitting upon the air of this world the taint of
demon was still strong enough to chase.
    The chameleon
started his bounce across roofs of the city while blending into the
grey of the night. He was oblivious to his magical follower and
Zyre didn’t expect the demon to notice her. Few would be brave
enough to annoy one in the employ of the local Xatn because the
reach of the Empire was as long as it was deadly. He ignored the
usual demon meeting place and kept moving until he seeped through
the doorway of a dilapidated pub of dubious origins. Resting on the
roof opposite Zyre ate the last of the stolen chocolate as
continuous dissolves without the benefit of organic surrounds was
taxing for her. If they had been in a forest she would have had no
problem since she could absorb energy from the living matter
surrounding, but this barren city of concrete and steel left her
frazzled. She waited until the street was clear before she slipped
inside, hiding within the bulk of those more attached to drink than
the company.
    The interior of
the pub was as run down as the faded sign announcing McGinty’s on
the exterior, not that she could read human or understand the
dubious Irish origins. She did notice that the threadbare carpet
was just a patch of stain and rot, the walls were dulled yellow by
years of nicotine, the bar pocked by various scuffles. The
clientele ranged from humans too far gone in their alcoholic binge
of a lifetime to notice or care about their companions, to demons
of strange reptilian appearance. Zyre moved deftly between the
bodies while the atmosphere dense with smoky agendas hid her well,
and she wandered into the depths until she found the table she
wanted.
    The Poqir
jumped when the copper haired girl suddenly appeared across from
him and he viewed the new arrival with dark suspicion. An Elf
seeking the company of the scout was akin to a celebrity having
lunch with a road sweeper, yet here she was in the flesh. His shiny
ivory skin took on an unhealthy pallor while his sand eyes bulged
in alarm as his hair merged through an endless parade of
colours—the sign of a Poqir in distress. Her kaleidoscope eyes were
emerald as they rested on his while her ruby lips parted in a curve
both hypnotic and disturbing. If the demon were to analyse his
responses then his foremost would be an urge to check his pockets
because when an Elf smiled havoc was bound to follow. Any attempt
to bamboozle a master of deception and mischief would be futile, so
the demon gave her a look of resigned acceptance.
    “Vryn Dhaigre
now be a Xatn,” said an unimpressed Elf but a conversation needed a
starting point.
    The Poqir would
have raised a brow questioning where she had been hiding, except
this was a magical being and everyone knew that they tended to live
within their own minds.
    “For a while
now,” he replied.
    “Been selling
him lots of information?”
    There was no
point in attempting to conceal that he was in the employ of the
Martyc and had