The Lost Soul

Chapter 3

Chris, the younger vampire, sat next to Oliver in the back.

"Yes," he nodded, "We did spend a little bit of time here hidden in the forest by the water. He had a cave we used to hide in, but he never brought Jemima with him."

Leaning forward and feeling just a little bit awkward at being the only non-vampire in the vehicle, Oliver tugged at the collar of his jacket absent-mindedly, "But I thought you guys looked all over Lund for her?"

"We did, but we just want to be sure we didn't miss her. Duran was a smart guy. He could have outwitted us," replied Jo, taking her foot off the gas and easing the car into a parking space just metres from the famous Historic Lund Hotel.

"He might have outwitted you, as for me? Well..." said Carmelo with a grin. He was one of the strongest vampires in western Canada, especially now Duran was dead. But an uneasiness shrouded his head concerning Jemima's whereabouts. Duran had pretty much told them he had turned the high school cheerleader into a vampire and he'd also suggested she was particularly well hidden. Carmelo was determined to find her before she became a risk to the people of Powell River or... if she was trapped, before she became too weak to survive. It had been known to happen before.

As the wind shook the trees, and the water glistened ahead of them, Oliver took a deep breath as he watched a fisherman climb out of his small boat, tying it up at the small harbour located right in front of the hotel, before he ambled towards them.

"Morning. A good day for fishing?" Oliver asked politely.

Smiling oddly as he eyed up the strange-looking group, one of the elderly men rubbed his gloved hands together and shook his head, "No, unfortunately not. It might appear calm out there now, but there's a storm brewing. It's heading right this way. By this afternoon, we won't know what's hit us," he said before scurrying away towards the car park where he quickly climbed into his little car before driving away with a worried glance in his rearview mirror.

"It always gets me how these fishermen can tell exactly what the weather's going to be doing."

"It's called The Weather Channel," chuckled Jo.

Rolling his eyes at her, Oliver shook his head with a smile.

"I know what you mean. They've been fishing almost all their lives, these guys. They can read the oceans, the sky, the clouds, every last natural motion around them tells them exactly what they need to know. I'd take note of what he just said... we need to get out into the forests and look around before all hell breaks loose," Carmelo added as he turned away from the water's edge.

Following him, the group was careful not to be seen as they dipped secretively away, deep into the dark, damp forests that surrounded the small village of Lund just half an hour's drive from Powell River.

With Chris up ahead, followed by Jo and Carmelo then Oliver at the rear, the group walked at a regular speed in order not to lose him.

"Look, this is stupid. You guys are capable of covering huge distances at speed. You go on ahead without me. I'm just slowing you down. I shouldn't have insisted on coming along. Sorry, guys," said Oliver, realising how much weaker and slower he was than his vampire counterparts.

"I guess you're right. Here, head back to the car," said Jo, tossing him the keys. "Actually, why don't you take the car back home. We'll catch up with you later on foot."

"Good luck!" he yelled as the three of them disappeared right in front of his eyes.

"Have a nice drive home..." he said to himself as he turned back. The ground beneath his feet was slippery and slimy, and he struggled to remain on two feet as he grabbed the nearest tree trunk to prevent himself from falling.

As he stood looking around, it suddenly dawned on him how eerie it was now he was alone. He shivered, thinking back to when Duran and his evil vampire crones were still alive. Had they found him alone now, they would have torn him apart, feasting on his blood.

Leaping away from the tree he was practically hugging, Oliver soon forgot about the slipperiness of the ground beneath him and ran as fast as he could back towards the car. Horrible haunting thoughts filled his mind.

As the thick trees began to open up, revealing cloud covered sunlight and the green-tinged blue ocean far off in the distance, he slowed, chuckling to himself at his erratic behaviour. But just as he thought all was clear, he heard movement behind him.

His heartbeat thumped in his chest as he slowly turned to see what was so threatening. Laughter blurted from his lips as he took stock of the two innocent beavers gnawing at a tree just metres away. Looking up at him, almost in disgust at the rude interruption, they turned their backs on him and continued their gnawing as if he wasn't there.

Oliver chuckled before walking out into the open, blustery air. Rubbing his hands together energetically, he headed to the warmth of the hotel, where he sat and ordered a hot cup of coffee to warm up before he headed back home, alone.

oOo

Stretching his arms out to his sides, with enormous black wings strutting out from his shoulder blades, Sammy leaned back and accepted the glass of milk Tiffani handed to him before she sat down and sipped at her own warm drink.

"Tell me about your homeland," he said after he downed it and returned the glass to the coffee table by his feet.

Sensing her tension and seeing a tear develop in her eye, he quickly added, "but you don't have to if you don't want to. I wouldn't want you to get upset again."

But it was too late. Tiffani's shoulders shuddered, her paper-like wings fluttered, and tears sprung from her eyes as she recalled the home she missed so much.

It wasn't just memories of home that led to Tiffani bawling her eyes out, it was the mention of anything remotely sad. She simply could not stop the tears from falling whenever she heard tales of woe.

As he gently placed his hand over hers, Tiffani turned towards him and smiled, the tears receding.

"Forgive me, Sammy. I wish I could stop this from happening but I cannot."

"It's okay, it's a part of you. I think it's rather sweet actually."

Blushing, Tiffani carefully wiped away the dampness from her rosy cheeks before taking another sip of her milk.

"Argentumalea," she sighed. "That's my home. It is the kingdom of the Malean faeries, of which I am the chief's daughter. I have an older sister, Sheharazalea. How I miss them," she sobbed for a moment before continuing, "Argentumalea is within the silver forests of Moharth. Our kind is not permitted to venture far out of Moharth."

"Why not?" he asked.

A vague memory flashed within her mind, leading to a frown creasing her forehead, but she shook her head, trying to rid the negative thoughts from her mind. The childhood myth was surely that... a myth? She shivered. But she knew there had to be some truth to it; she was no longer in Moharth, after all. She was trapped in a land far from home with no idea how to return.

Sammy watched the pretty faery as all kinds of emotions etched across her face, but he didn't push for more details. She was obviously hurting, and he didn't want to be the one who brought even more pain.

Sensing his eyes on her, Tiffani smiled, "I'm sorry, I've been pushing these thoughts from my mind ever since I became lost."

"No, I am the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have asked you. It's clearly still very painful for you. Let's talk about something else."

"No, Sammy, you were right to ask. How will I ever return home if I don't start remembering all of these things? The Elders tried to encourage me to talk about it before, but I wasn't ready then. Although it is incredibly hard, I must remember. I want to go home. More than anything else in this world, I want to go home."

CHAPTER FIVE

It had been several days since the faeries of Argentumalea had rescued him from near death. His recovery was going well, and he was becoming increasingly stronger each day, yet he was still unable to recall what had happened before his rescue, or anything else for that matter. He didn't even know his own name.

The only memory etched in his mind was of the decomposing corpse which lay in the ditch where he had been found.

Had he been dumped? Presumed dead?

Keen to discover what had happened, he asked Zalea (she had thought his continued failed attempts at pronouncing her name quite amusing, but in the end had suggested he settle on calling her Zalea instead) to try and help him reconnect with his missing memories.

"I'm afraid I cannot help you with this matter, my dear, but I do know of someone who should be able to," she had answered, "but only when you are strong enough to walk."

That time had arrived. He was now able to support his own body weight, thanks to the help of the faeries and the nourishing food and drink they had continued to ply him with. He was genuinely thankful, but he was now ready to get back to investigating who he was and where he had come from.

Making sure he was warm enough, Zalea and her close friend, Ameleana, stood at his side helping him into a long white robe which they tied snuggly around his thin frame.

"You are still a little weak, and the cold air will only make you weaker unless you stay warm," smiled Ameleana. She was a tall, dark blue-haired faery with intense, yet cheeky, light blue eyes that matched the little wings that continuously fluttered behind her.

"Thank you, but I do feel stronger. I think I can manage."

"Very well," she answered, taking a little step backwards and watching as he leaned on a post temporarily, "Just a little dizzy. I haven't been on my feet for quite a while. Don't worry, I'm fine," he added as he adjusted the weight on his feet.

Noticing the looks on the two faeries faces, he smirked, "honestly, I'm okay. I just needed to get my balance, that's all."

"As long as you're sure?"

After nodding, Zalea led them out of the simple room in which he had spent the last few days. They followed closely behind, walking away from their homes and deeper into the silver forests of Moharth.

After just ten minutes of slow ambling, he stopped for a moment, leaning on the nearest tree as the two faeries turned and smiled at him.

"Yes, you should rest for a moment. Do not worry though, we have almost reached our destination," said Zalea, pointing to a beautiful silvery-blue willow in the distance. "We are nearly there."

Keen to get there, the man without a name gently pushed himself away from the soft silver fern-covered tree and smiled at his companions with a nod before they continued on their way.

Although the view of the sky was mostly blocked out by the vast array of trees in wildly different shades of silver and grey, it wasn't dark. The colours around them offered an almost consistent source of light as if the trees were covered in a million beautiful faery lights. The effect was nothing less than dazzling.

As they approached the weeping willow, a small figure slowly stepped out from beneath it.

Dressed from head to toe in black and leaning on a crooked old stick, she stood waiting for their approach.

"Sheharazalea and Ameleana... what a welcome surprise. And you bring a guest, how lovely, how lovely. How is your father, my dear?"

Zalea approached the old lady and gently hugged her before offering her prettiest smile, "He is very well... very well."

"You were never very good at hiding the truth, my dear. He may well be in good health, but your sister's disappearance sits dreadfully on his heart. As it does yours, my dear, as it does yours. But I have some news. I can tell you she is alive and well... and, I do believe her heart is somewhat lighter. She has friends. So please, worry not about her. Just know she is well."