Innocent Blood

Three

Salix

    Southeast wasn’t a very specific direction to head in, considering that he’d been staying in Houston, but it was all he had to go by. Quasim’s ring felt heavy on his left index finger as he drummed his fingers on the handlebars of his motorcycle to the death metal playing through his headphones. The Rakshasa didn’t leave him any instruction on how he was supposed to use this ring to find the blood mage. In the end, he didn’t need to be told how to use it. Driving for hours in a South-Easterly direction, whenever an exit came, he felt a pull in the center of his being, cajoling him ever onward. 

     This dark energy made him uncomfortable. It pulled on his body and chilled his core. The energy sweet, like pure syrup. The difference between the Rakshasa’s otherworldly magic and the familiar magics of the Earth nauseated the dryad. He’d pulled over several times, fearful that he would be sick. The unnatural sensation curdled in his stomach.

    Before he hopped back onto the motorcycle, Salix pulled up his blood-stained tee shirt to look at his side. Other than a pink mar, there was no evidence of the s***h from his Spirit Tree to himself. The shortness of breath and dizziness had finally subsided after the last few hours, too. It seemed like he’d regenerated enough that the wound was no longer painful.

        His movements felt slowed. This exhaustion rolled over him like a tidal wave. He needed to get to wherever he was going and soon. Normally,  such a wound would have healed in a matter of hours. Salix looked at the ring on his finger. He suspected its dark influence had some effect on his ability to heal.

    As he raised his leg to sit astride the chrome and pleather machine, Salix made a mental note to never mouth off to Quasim ever gain. He proved his point, as always; the Rakshasa was in control—for the time being.

    He crossed the border into Florida and shook his head. Wondering exactly how far South he was headed, he trucked on. The sooner he could rid himself of his debt and the Rakshasa’s constant nagging, the better.

    After all these years, yet another blood mage had come into her power and was aware enough to shield herself from the Lower Realm. There was a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, after all. Hopefully this witch must be the one Quasim sought. The Blood Mages he’d encountered had been nasty creatures—not even close to the innocence that Quasim claimed to need.

    His chin hit his chest and he yanked the bike back to the center of his lane. He pushed the volume up on his headphones. The bass and screaming vocalizations of the band assaulted his eardrums. He couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when he was so close to earning his freedom from Quasim.

    The first rays of sunlight crested the horizon when Salix arrived in Central Florida. He couldn’t remember the city name on the highway exit sign. It didn’t matter anyway. He’d get the witch, give it to the Rakshasa, and be on his way. He could put all of this behind him once and for all and begin a life being truly free. He’d waited more than two hundred years to taste his own freedom.

    The streets were quiet except for his motorcycle’s engine. When his bike idled, he could hear insects buzzing and chirping above the engine’s purr. In the dim, pre-dawn light, the full moon’s silvery light was still visible in the sky, highlighting the tops of the trees. The massive oak trees with moss draped off their branches dotted the landscape.

      The sickly sensation of the ring guided him up and down streets. The pull from his core grew stronger as he moved toward the Downtown District of the city. The streets narrowed into one-way paths and the traffic grew more dense as he pushed on. Two to three story brick buildings lined the streets before a grassy public square that took up a few city blocks. Some of the buildings were colorful while others were a classic red brick. All appeared to be businesses that had not yet opened for the day. Around the grassy square, a few women pushed strollers. Joggers made their way up and down the sidewalks and nodded in acknowledgment of the other. A handful of the women stopped in their tracks to stare at Salix on his bike. He tried his best to ignore their gaze. As uncomfortable as this made Salix, the discomfort in his gut was greater. He must be close.

    As he drove around this central location, the sickness became unbearable. He stopped the bike and crouched over a storm drain. The fruit he ate at his last stop was only partially digested, he learned as it came up from his stomach.

    He’d stopped in front of a shop called Simple Spell Supply. He knew that the mage was inside—his insides churned and broiled as if they’d leap out from his skin. He approached the wood and glass door and observed the ‘Closed’ sign. There was another sign stuck to the glass that indicated the shop wouldn’t open until ten. Pressing his face to the cool glass, he peered inside. The lights in the shop were off and there was no sign of movement. The squirming sensation in his gut demanded that he go inside and seek the blood mage. Clearly there was no one here. Was the demonic ring defective somehow?

    After twelve hours on the bike his body would not allow itself to be deprived of sleep any longer. He stretched his arms and legs to shake out the fatigue. Being this close to resolving his half of the agreement and Quasim’s dark relic had brought him this far. The adrenaline that pressed him forward had run out and his eyes grew heavy. His thoughts were foggy and incoherent. Still, he felt pressured and realized that it was the ring that pushed him ever on. He took it off and stowed it inside his backpack. The unnatural sensations in his body abated. The anticipation of ending a centuries-long search remained but his body overruled his mind. He must find somewhere to rest his head. The witch could wait another few hours.

    He hopped back on his bike and drove around a few blocks until he found a hotel. The hotel was bright and welcoming, though not as welcoming as his dwellings back home. Nothing the humans could conjure up compared to his people’s creations. He parked his bike and strode through the tall glass doors in the front of the building. The lobby area smelled of chemical cleaners and plastic. Polished black and white marble floors reflected the artificial lights in the ceiling. A family with squawking younger children stood at the counter, the male holding his head as he talked to the associate. Human children were some of the most obnoxious creatures on the planet.

    He approached the check-in counter and smiled at the female behind the desk. She was in her early twenties, he guessed, and wore too much makeup. She smiled as he approached. “How can I help you?” She fidgeted where she stood and played with her hair. She appraised him with her eyes and her cheeks blossomed into a ruddy pink color.

    “Need a room. Two nights.” He could barely stand and leaned on the desk for support.

    “Oh, where are you from? You have a strange accent.” Her excitement grated on his nerves.

    He raised his eyebrow at her. Her cheeks flushed even deeper.

    “I’m so rude. Sorry. I hear a lot of accents working in a hotel. Yours is new to me.”

    I do not have the patience for this today. He imagined the soft bed that awaited him as soon as this woman stopped prattling about nonsense.

    “How much do I owe for the room?” He handed her his card and waited while she looked in the computer.

     “I can do single King or double Queens.”

    “Single.”

    “Is it just you or will you have another occupant?”

     “Just me.”

     She rested her chin on her hand and winked.

    “Okay, you’re all set.” She wrote up a brochure with the room number and handed him his key cards. “I put my number in there in case you wanted to get together later. I get off at eight. Maybe you can buy me a cup of coffee?”

    “No, I’m fine, thanks.” He noted the room number, took the room key cards from the brochure, and handed it back to her. “I’m not interested in your kind.” He shook his head. Humans

    The young woman gasped and her face turned shades of dark red. Whatever, he didn’t have time for humans. He’d need to save his strength for today. He couldn’t imagine that a witch who could hide her magics from a Rakshasa would just hop on the back of his bike and come along to be handed off to Quasim.

    Salix stepped into the elevator and took it up to the third floor. The elevator crawled up through the hotel interior. The room was just like any generic hotel room with muted colors and boring artwork on the walls. Salix undressed, let his hair down and gave it a quick comb before taking the fastest shower of his life. He didn’t bother to dress and fell into the bed naked. Snores grumbled past his lips before his head even hit the pillow.

    He awoke disoriented. The room was just as dark as it was before thanks to the light-blocking curtains over the big windows. He read the clock on the nightstand and found that it was just past midday. Perfect. He dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a white tee shirt from his backpack before opening the curtains. The light streaming through the windows burned his eyes at first but felt so comforting on his skin.

    He slipped the ring back on his finger and left the hotel. There was no point in waiting any longer to find out what he was up against.