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The sound of rushing water filled Aquila’s ears as she descended from the overpass to the unassuming stream below. The water levels were barely high enough to soak the bottom half of her pant legs as she trudged into the awaiting tunnel, where the true power of the diverted river hid below the city streets.
Every sound echoed like an alarm, announcing her presence as if a gong had been rung in an empty room. The splashes of her own footfalls reverberated through the oversized concrete tube and brought back decayed memories of something she couldn’t quite remember.
It was still early in the night, but Aquila felt the need to act quickly on her vision from last night. Trusting her intuition like this had usually led her into the belly of the beast so to speak, but she also struggled to find a result that she regretted from it. The dark might make her reconsider, however. It was pitch black with no way to see even an inch ahead, and the glowing dot of the entrance behind grew smaller with each step.
Aquila’s hand brushed her jeans pocket. It bulged with something she had forgotten until now. A phone. Crude and old compared to the ones she saw others carrying these days, but one of the few that would work with her undead nature. Of course, she’d ripped out the GPS tracker as soon as she’d taken it back from that girl with blue hair. Just like her. Twinsies, she’d said. Her name was some crystal or rock, but it hardly mattered now. She withdrew the battered silver flip phone and blindly punched buttons until a flash lit the path ahead, if only briefly.
An image of a dark, empty tunnel stared back at her from the screen. She took another picture, finding it indistinguishable from the last. Stumbling around in the dark, the blind prophet. Fitting, she thought bitterly to herself, to see the way for others but never herself.
It was hard to say how long this continued: step, step, flash, step, step. Certainly, if Aquila had still been alive, she would be shivering from the cold biting into her toes and calves. Or would it have been so cold as to go numb? It was hard to remember all the ways in which her body had become accustomed to undeath. Environmental hazards were hardly worthy of thought now.
Just as the phone illuminated a change in scenery, Aquila knew she was in the right place. A dim glow in the distance signaled that she’d found her destination. For being creatures of the night that dwelled in subterranean sewers, the Nosferatu weren’t exactly known for their ability to see in the dark. At least they’d be as blind as Aquila was were they to chase her from here.
She did have one advantage, she realized, as she rounded the corner to a series of concrete platforms raised just above the water level which reached Aquila’s waist now: she could actually see them if she was lucky. There had been signs all along the walk here that she was being followed, but only now could she confirm her theory as she climbed up out of the dark, underground river.
Bookshelves lined the walls, beautiful Turkish rugs were laid out like waterstained carpet, and Victorian-age furniture sat amongst the open concept concrete block as if it were a penthouse or old manor home. She only had a moment to take in the strange juxtaposition of the haven before a hand firmly grasped her shoulder and spun her around. So much for her advantage. A second hand, tipped with long ivory claws, seized her throat. The nails dug into her dead flesh, causing cold, dark blood to slowly leak down her skin.
If Aquila had to breathe, she was sure her breath would have caught in her throat at the sight before her: a Nosferatu that’s for sure. His jagged fangs stuck out like two buck teeth from the front of his mouth, its corners split and elongated. His eyes were yellowed and misshapen and his skin looked like cracked marble where the moss had settled into its lines. The oldest lick in the city, if the stories were to be believed. Supposedly he was older than even the United States itself by a long shot.
“You are trespassing,” he hissed with narrowing eyes. Despite his suspicious stare and threatening grasp upon her neck, Aquila couldn’t help but notice he seemed rather at ease in this situation, relaxed even.
“I was looking for you,” she supplied unhelpfully. “You’re… Diokles?”
Her hand came up to his, perhaps belatedly as Aquila’s internal processes caught up with her. She pried his fingers back… or at least she tried to. He didn’t budge.
“It’s pure folly to wander into a Kindred’s haven uninvited, young one. Give me one good reason not to separate your head from your neck. It would be easy. I could do it with but the flick of a finger.”
His index finger curled, dragging the back of his nail along the side of Aquila’s throat ever so slowly. Her eyes tried and failed to follow the movement. She shifted her weight to lean away from him. He felt strong. If he was as old as she believed he was, he likely wasn’t bluffing.
He spoke slowly, Aquila noticed. She’d heard rumors of elders so old that time had begun to lose meaning. Funny. Time hardly meant anything to her now and she was hardly an elder. Maybe it was more of a personal thing when a Kindred becomes weary.
“I have something you need to know.”
Diokles smiled and huffed a laugh, not unlike others who she had gone to with prophecies prior. No one believed her until it was too late.
“I have spent centuries below the Earth, studying tomes older than any structure this city has ever seen. What makes you think you have any information that I do not already know?”
“Because I know.”
“Because you know? It is as simple as that?”
“Simple as that.”
Diokles hummed. He released Aquila with a shove. She stumbled backwards, barely able to catch herself on a walnut end table that teetered precariously under her weight. Then it tipped and her feet came out from underneath her. The layered rugs did little to pad the bludgeoning force of landing on solid concrete. A whoosh of air forced its way out of Aquila’s lungs and for a moment she forgot that she didn’t need to panic.
“A Lunatic, then. Fine. What do you know?” he questioned as he crossed his arms over his narrow chest. The leather jacket he wore squeaked in the quiet.
Aquila winced as she pushed herself up from the ground and found a more comfortable seated position. Something was certainly cracked and her neck wasn’t feeling any better, either. But duty calls.
Her eyes became distant as she recalled her vision from the night before. So many images had passed through her head.
“A pale flower in a cage. Narcissus.”
Diokles frowned, but did not stop Aquila as she continued. “A robed man hiding below the earth, he drinks the flower’s nectar and disappears. The searching eyes look but do not see. Perseus with a sword beheads the gorgon. Her death screech rattles the world. Four hearts, a four colored square holds the key. They unlock and in doing so reveal the man. He is scared, frightened of the light. He wants to hide. The spotlight chooses him instead.”
Everything was quiet once more as the expression on Diokles’ face had become unreadable.
Diokles strode forward and gripped the front of Aquila’s shirt, dragging her up and over to the makeshift sitting room to roughly plop her down on a loveseat. The antique wood creaks under her, but holds. He places himself in a matching armchair across the way and leans forward, resting his brow on the pads of his fingers, processing.
Aquila’s legs bounce alternately as she waits for his response. Her hands pressed between her knees to keep from fidgeting any more. The fancy furniture made her feel out of place, despite being in a glorified storm drain.
“What do these images mean to you? What have you gleaned from them?” His voice is measured. He understands the images, Aquila thinks. He wants to make sure she doesn’t. typical.
Aquila thinks for a moment. There was no use in hiding what she knew. He could decide to kill her for lying if he so chose.
“I don’t know all of it but I know of the woman, the one whose blood you drink. It's not like others, not like mine. Why?”
Diokles’ glare sharpens. “Unimportant. We all must do things we find distasteful.”
“It is important if the key unlocks her cage.”
The old vampire’s jaw ticked to the side. “Yes, this key. Four hearts, you said?”
Aquila nods and Diokles hums, the gears turning in his head. Aquila wondered just how much information he had in there.
“If it’s any consolation,” Aquila starts timidly, “it all seems to end well.”
“The man exposed to the light is ending well? I find that hard to believe, young Malkavian. Famously, vampires don’t do so well in such areas, especially those of my blood. Although, the visions your clan are blessed with are hardly the most straightforward of fortunes.”
“The light felt powerful, protective. It made the searching eyes hesitate.”
That makes Diokles look up. If he had any eyebrows, Aquila was sure one would be raised in curiosity.
“She needs to be released,” Aquila insisted despite her better judgement. “She is the one who protects.”
Diokles shook his head. “It is not possible. Were she released after all I have done, she will ruin me by reputation alone, dear one.”
Aquila also shook her head and leaned forward.
“No. Her rage will ruin hers. A monster. A fire bigger than the city will burn. It will blind the searching eyes of… Nick Toons?”
“The Niktuku,” Diokles breathed quietly into the still air as if he didn’t realize he spoke aloud.
A splash echoed down the dark tunnel from the opposite way Aquila had arrived. They both turned their heads to look. Diokles stood quickly and gathered Aquila in his hold once again, dragging her back to the entrance and pushing her into the water.
Aquila scrambled to maintain her footing against the slippery stone and failed as she fell into the dirty running water below, her clothes thoroughly soaked up to her shoulders now. That phone was probably dead…
“Go now. I will seek you out at a later date to discuss this fiery monster. Until then, you will speak to no one else about this and you will not remember the path here,” Diokles willed. Aquila knew she would not be able to even had she wanted as the familiar feeling of something being stolen from her returned.. She nodded before disappearing into the shadows and slinking back home to lick her wounds.