Seraph (Also for now, at least)

NECESSARY INFORMATION WHICH MUST BE COVERED IN ORDER TO SPEED ALONG THE PLOT AND GET THE NASTY DESCRIPTIVE BITS OUT OF THE WAY1

(Aristotle would approve)2

If I were to describe for you with some depth the conditions in which the girl—our girl, you will note—resided, it could easily be seen that they were, first and foremost, involuntary. Her caged existence (if you will indulge me in such a metaphor. There is no physical set of iron bars fixing her to one place) could not be adequately termed slavery, for this would imply that she labored to produce what was ultimately demanded of her. What was demanded was much more natural and infinitely more heinous than simple slavery. It is one thing to be a tool; it is an entirely different matter to be a meal. This shocking (hopefully mortifying—I trust you have not lost all feeling for your fellow being) assertion dose not imply that she was missing digits or (heaven help us) limbs. It more implies that the poor creature’s life was being slowly drained by some of mythology’s darkest and most unforgiving creations—for what can feed on the life blood of humanity but the already damned?3

Our girl is a special case (it is difficult to write a story based upon someone absolutely ordinary to whom nothing exceptional happens), especially when considering the assumption that such contemptible leeches are Demons in their own right. Humanity is yet another term which fails to accurately assess our dear child’s condition. In most forms she was the picture of radiance. Her face was one where the blush of youth meets the beauty of womanhood, where the serenity of the spirit manifests itself in absolute innocence. This, although exceptional in its own way—fleeting, priceless—was not what made our girl special, unique to the world around her. In order to place the term humanity in severe jeopardy, something spectacular must overshadow the base form. For our dear, where mankind places the scapula, she placed a pair of picturesque wings—the sort which reach almost to the floor, which could cover an entire figure in snowy white modesty and impose on the strongest man a sense of unimportance.4

Now, we reach forward with a cruel, uneducated guess at what our girl’s true form happens to be. (Such jumps from assertion to conclusion are part of our nature. They are forgivable when ignorance is the offending party) Most of you, indeed probably all of you, have said quietly to yourselves ‘She must be an angel’ for what else could a giant bird-woman be. To call her an angel is to make the same mistake as to call her a human. It is faulty, though not because her form resembles an angel (which it most certainly does not), but because the term is supported by a sea of Renaissance art (Winged babies and portly women wrapped in mysterious, floating fabric). The accurate, appropriate term—indeed the one used by her unfortunate captors—is Seraphim.5

Now that we have defined our girl—whom we may now refer to as Seraphim, as that (along with a few slight derivatives) is what she is called—we shall define her captors at greater length. (If you have not guessed what these creatures are by now, I am willing to bet that you scored poorly in tests involving the application of imagery) These beasts, demons (now you see the irony most clearly) if you will, are of course most notably evaluated, and with some accuracy, in Bram Stocker’s rather famous gothic novel. He created a being possessed by evil, driven by power, and capable of schemes, plots, and the greatest of manipulations. His image of our villainous counterparts stands most accurate to the beasts which you will come to know ever so well. Our diabolic captors—vampires (which, hopefully comes as no great shock to you now that we have played the ‘literary allusion’ card) of the highest order—kept Seraphim for the most obvious of reasons. First, she was a food source who could escape to nowhere terrestrial without becoming a sideshow in a traveling circus. Second, and more importantly, she shared something with the leeches which was both convenient and unfortunate (convenient for them, unfortunate for her)—immortality can be such a curse when you are forced to spend it as an entrée. The vampires had broken Seraphim soon after they captured her (a word to the wise, heavenly beings should not visit the dreams of those who suffer in Eastern Europe. It can end rather badly), a task which was not difficult, seeing as heavenly beings are not well suited for earthly existence—it weighs upon their consciousness. It did not hurt that they trimmed her flight feathers, grounding her, keeping her from rejoining the celestial chorus, and removed her sense of self-worth almost surgically through verbal abuse, physical torture, and the obvious—eating her slowly.6

Now, the contemptibles were not creatures without minds—here our dear Bram was ever so correct. Vampires are hunters of the highest order, and in order to keep such a prize as Seraphim, certain measures were put in place. No leech was allowed to pierce her flesh with teeth—claws, knives, any sharp object within arms reach were all permissible—in order to ensure that she maintained her heavenly state and did not succumb to the beastly symptoms (assimilation into a culture of death, if you will) which are often associated with such bites. There was a prescribed amount which each individual was allowed to draw from her silver veins, and a pecking order which determined when and how long one was allowed to drink. There were other, less important measures set up around her, to protect her (the same way a cat protects a shrew), and ensure that their eternal prize lasted until their insatiable lust for the wine of man was at last satisfied. This all, of course, surrounds our girl. The information you must glean from this discourse is as follows: the vampires are a group of intelligent, capable hunters with a system of government and law best suited to its community, and a sort of caste system, all of which create an elaborate society—one not associated with such animal lusts.7

And it is here that we enter into our dear’s world. It is here that we, for a moment, shed the mortal coil—our concept of time and the like, and give up our humanity, if only for a moment. (It is imperative that you understand those creatures with whom you will share the depths of your imagination before we begin our decent into their world) And so we begin our journey to the section of the world known as Eastern Europe—to the castle, and the site of our girl’s existence. (Can it be termed a life if the torture never ends?)8

I.9

Vampires, for all their faults (which are, as most will agree, many), are creatures of taste. This is, of course to be expected—anyone who survives more than a century begins to have an appreciation for the finer things in whatever semblance of a life they choose to lead. It is for this reason which most Leech stories are set in castle laden Eastern Europe—though a few such tales bleed one direction or another, but always towards the architecture of nobility. Castles are strong, stable, classical buildings rarely invaded by the outside world—normal humanity has this strange, completely unexplainable fear of giant structures filled with large rodents, spiders, and who knows what else. Large carnivores rarely make the list of expected fears, which is rather ironic, since most of the abandoned stone structures are inhabited by such creatures. Our Leeches (and yes, for all intensive purposes, they are ours. We must be content in our lot—I do not ask you to love all of your emotional possessions, merely to acknowledge your ownership) fall into this mold. They nestled themselves somewhere on the great peninsula of former Yugoslavia. (I would be more specific, but as the geography in that region is constantly in question, there’s not really a point. All you need to know is it’s not Greece, but near Greece.)10

Seraphim could not have wished for a better cage. Virtually empty fields dotted with the occasional hamlet or flock of sheep swept form horizon to horizon. Gentle, rolling hills, green in one season, white in the next, played across her vision as she stood on her balcony. You will recall that I told you her cage was more so a mental box than any shackles around her feet. It stands to reason that any winged creature who can stand on a balcony and feel the kiss of the wind in her hair but stay firmly planted on the ground is truly broken. It would not require much extrapolation to imagine a rather burly Leech throwing a bound Seraphim from the balcony to the ground. Is there anything more tragic than a bird with a fear of heights? (I tell you outright—no. No, there is not.)11

The door to her chamber creaked, then clicked. As the sound resonated through the stone walls, she dropped her arm from the railing, letting it hang completely limp at her side.12

“No, Seraph,” the voice—a deep, colorless voice—spoke over her shoulder, “I am not hungry.” A hand, much larger and a different shade of pail than her skin, took hers and set it back on its resting place.13

“Than why have you come?” Seraphim lowered her eyes to the floor. The submission which seized her whole frame did not suit her noble build, “Am I required somewhere else?”14

“In a few moments,” he stepped forward, next to her, but not in an act of friendship, love, or even sheer camaraderie. His every movement—the direction of his eyes, the positioning of his torso—seemed to hint at the relationship which I have already attempted to make evident. She was a meal, she was less than a slave. (If you have ever heard of a farmer naming a lamb Dinner so as not to become attached, that farmer had more sympathy and tenderness towards the lamb than any Leech towards our Seraphim)15

“Then why have you come?” Seraphim repeated again. A certain acidity entered her tone, though not her face. For all her submission, all her brokenness, a territorial instinct manifested itself alongside her timidity. “Samuel, why do you interrupt my brief rest?”16

“I enjoy your company.” This simple statement was not intended as a gesture of friendship. It was merely a tactless observation. The Leech (who we will henceforth refer to as Samuel, since his name will bear some weight in our story and also because we cannot call an entire horde by the same name) turned towards her, “Tell me of the sheep.”17

“There six flocks that graze beneath my window, but I have only seen two today. The patched ewe has a new lamb since she last crossed the grounds.” She pointed softly from dot to another with the utmost tenderness.18

“You do not name them?” Samuel said. His assessment of her character seemed jarred ever so slightly. Such a tender creature should have undoubtedly christened her only companions.19

“One does not name transient things over which one has no influence.”20

“Do you name the hills and the buildings than.”21

“You, your kind, should understand why I am reluctant to form attachments with those whom I never desire to know more intimately than I do now. Thatch-roofed house is enough.” She had overstepped some invisible line with her final comment. Before she had a chance to brace herself, his somehow jaundiced hand was against her snowy wrist, clamping down with some ferocity. A whimper kissed her lips, but only the air from the suppressed sound managed to escape, almost inaudibly.22

“Enough,” Samuel’s face showed no sign of anger. His eyes cut through her slender frame, but his jaw, his brow all remained unchanged. “You are required at the banquet tonight.”23

“Who, if I may ask, will I be serving tonight?”24

“Mother and Father,” Samuel looked her over once coldly, “Magdelina has made you a new dress for the occasion.”25

“This is an occasion?” Seraphim turned and looked up at him, her eyes stopping just south of his jaw.26

“A new daughter.”27

“Are you turning the mortals again?” She suddenly felt a wave of concern sweep up her spine and catch in her ribs.28

“Just the one. It’s all rather political, but none of the details are of any concern to you,” Samuel’s brief speech had a rather manic characteristic. Whether or not his truthfulness was intentional, he was honest with Seraphim.29

“I shall try to hold my tongue on the topic from this moment on. I am simply not fond of the youth’s first meals. They have no moderation.” Samuel reached to slap her, but stopped when he saw that the remark was not meant to offend, it was simply an observation marked by some pain and fear. He could not deny the youth were a touch overeager. Still, he could not take back his initial reaction and followed the aggressive gesture with a deep, throaty snarl.30

“Go to Magdelina, Seraph,” he growled.31

“Yes, sir,” she whispered. Head buried, wings folded she moved from the room to the dank, lightless corridor.32

The halls of the castle were maze-like at best. Large portions were completely void of light in any form, but here and again a turn would be dimly lit by some diffuse day creeping under the crack in an otherwise invisible door. She would have been lost in an instant if she had not traced her fingers along the stones a hundred thousand times as she steadied herself in the abysmal blackness. As she wended her way through a particularly lengthy portion of unchanging night, she brushed past an unseen figure. Quite suddenly she found herself pressed against the cold stone wall, feet several inches above the floor, with a hand firmly around her neck. An elbow dug into her sternum as she slid downward. She could feel the more jagged projectiles scraping against her skin, and (for rather obvious reasons) was overcome by a wave of silent, tear-stained terror.33

“Why do you touch me, bird?” a voice hissed softly. She felt a frame draw closer; the second hand found her chin and squeezed ever so slightly. She did not resist.34

“My sincerest apologies,” she whispered, “I often forget that knowledge is not vision in these tunnels. Surely you can muster a scrap of forgiveness for a loathsome creature.” The hand relaxed and simultaneously left her chin for her shoulder, but the gesture was cut short when a finger traced along the fresh abrasions at the base of her neck. She thought, perhaps, that she had heard lips smacking. Seraph pulled her wings tightly against her back, attempting to crush the hand.35

“Do you dare?” the voice came again.36

“Do you?” she whispered back. There was no fear in her voice, only knowledge made righteous by a currently unseen authority. The rules were clear—she was not a smorgasbord, and if any of those subject to the whims of the leadership in this castle chose to violate this decree, she had the right to more or less defend herself. (The reasoning behind such a law will be fully explained later. For the moment, assume that such a valuable commodity can be exhausted and that it must be preserved at all costs. The true logic is far more complex.), “They will know.”37

“And how will they find out, bird?”38

“I will tell them. I have no choice but to tell them.”39

“But you cannot possibly know what loathsome creature has scraped your little frame along the wall under the pretense of personal injury, but with a light lunch on his mind,” There was a snarl mixed with a smile. She let him gloat for a moment, then replied.40

“Do you think that I have not felt every hand and heard every voice in this wretched place ten thousand times? I cannot see you, this is true enough, but I knew you the minute your presence assailed my remaining senses.” The malice in her voice was difficult to detect. She was a creature of habit and habit dictated fear of the Leeches as her first instinct and complete submission as the second. The hand broke away and the body to which it belonged departed quite suddenly. She was alone.41

(Leeches are, by their very nature, quite difficult to see in any sort of light. They are predators, and like their less organized counterparts, they have an arsenal of tricks which they use to simultaneously ensnare, allure, and avoid their prey. While it is much simpler to hunt in the dark, a deathly pallor can hide the most dangerous of predators in a sea of noontime faces. When held in contrast to such a creature, you and I glow. No one notices the darkness until it is far past twilight)42

A hand, a new hand, reached out and found Seraph’s, helping her to her feet. She took the help timidly, finding no enjoyment in physical contact, no matter how brief or seemingly well-meaning. Once standing, she attempted to ascertain the identity of the one now beside her that she might synthesize a proper utterance of gratitude.43

“I heard a bit of a ruckus, sparrow,” a voice cut the silence. She knew it at once, before the pet name (if such a phrase is appropriate. I refer you to the earlier statement of the farmer and his Dinner) had even left her counterpart’s lips, “Is everything as it should be?”44

“Everything is as it must be, Gabriel,” she shuddered and smiled simultaneously. ‘Little games,’ she thought. Such exchanges were not altogether uncommon. On those who fancied themselves beauteous, she fawned; those who fancied themselves comedic, she humored; those who fancied themselves hungry, she satiated—little games and greater obligations, “No steps need to be taken.”45

“Was it Laert?” he moved closer, and though she could not see his face, she knew the look upon it—the furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, lips drawn tight over a clenched jaw. 46

“I cannot say for certain,” Seraph lied. She regretted it the moment the words peaked in her mind, yet she said them all the same. The next sound she heard was that of his hand upon her cheek.47

“Sparrow, you shouldn’t tell lies,” he whispered, “it’s unbecoming.” He tapped the site of the offence a few times, but more gently. She flinched with each movement, “Why are you about today?”48

“I am to go to Magdelina,”49

“You are fortunate to have a seamstress so accomplished who worships your form. I have seen the dress. It will suit you.”50

“I am flattered that you think so.”51

“Do you believe an escort would be appropriate after the encounter a few moments ago?” Gabriel shifted to allow her to pass.52

“If you offer, I am bound to accept, though I deem anyone a fool to try what another has failed to do in so short a span.”53

“Then you have my leave to go,” he tapped her on the arm as one would pat the withers of a horse. She bowed her head gracefully and resumed her gentle footwork. An escort would have been pointless, or at least exorbitant. Seraph was perhaps two turns from her destination and Magdelina’s door was always open so that she might hear the gossip floating through the darkness. Her room was also lit far better than any other in the stone structure—a necessity for a seamstress of any caliber.54

To the leeches, Magdelina was as much an expert chef as a seamstress. (In the world of men, we clothe ourselves for the sake of modesty; not always so for others.) Dressing Seraph was the rough equivalent of preparing a meal fit for the expensive tastes acquired over centuries of monotonous bloodletting. Magdelina had an eye for lines which satisfied the senses. She had also spent a fair amount of time trying to compensate for her subject’s unusual anatomy, a feat in its own right and not one to be taken lightly. Seraph turned the corner into her room and stood motionless in the doorway.55

“Come in, Seraph,” Magdelina motioned without looking up from a swath of fabric.56

“Thank you,” Seraph whispered, and stepped further into the room.57

“I have your dress,” Magdelina pointed to the corner, where a wire frame torso stood, clothed in a white gown, “It should fit like a glove. You’ll have to be tied into it rather tightly, but after that, I doubt anything short of a bladed weapon could get you out.” The dress was beautiful. The front was simple, almost entirely plain, save a ribbon about the wide neck. The back dove down into a deep V which closed only after a tight ribbon lacing at the base of the spine. It was perfect. (In such a scandalous gown, every major vein and artery is artfully left exposed to greedy mouths and hands)58

“It is beautiful.”59

“Put it on, creature, before I grow old.” Magdelina smiled.
“I don’t think I can do so by myself.”60

“Nonsense, Seraph, pull it on and I’ll tie you in,” she waved her hand. Magdelina was right. The dress fit like a second layer of skin fashioned from exotic silks. It was cool against her body and far different from the bit of cotton she had been wearing moments before. Magdelina laced up the difficult bits and motioned for the creature before her to turn around.61

“It’s a shame that you will move so little in it,” she sighed, “Walk about as much as possible. You’ll look much more appetizing that way.” Magdelina smiled and walked her fingers up the girl’s spine, counting the vertebrae with razor sharp nails as she went. “Now unless you have other business here I suggest you leave. I’m feeling peckish and you’re more that a mite distracting, if I do say so myself.”62

“Thank you,” Seraph left the room willingly, feeling nearly naked and frightened. She knew the rules better than anyone in the castle. She knew that on the day of such an occasion no one would be allowed to taste her. She also knew that such rules wouldn’t stop the thirsty and such a dress was an open invitation for a smorgasbord. In the back of her mind a dozen leeches latched on to her body and drained her near death. 63

Near death, never death. Death had become a comforting thought long ago—to die, to sleep, to sleep perchance to dream, perchance to somehow find her way back to the celestial sphere and into the divine light of the one to which she longed to sing. How she longed to shuffle off this mortal coil. How impossible it seemed for an immortal to die. How impassible the void between this sphere and that which lies beyond. No solace in death, no joy in life, only the faintest glimmer of hope that one day her maker would call her home once more. 64

(At this point you are perhaps wondering why a society would bother with regulating a resource with no expiration date. The answer requires a bit of economic thought. The demons are insatiable and in their hands they possess a fountain of life. Conceivably our poor creature could be drained dry again and again. There is, however, a slight drawback to this model. One leech could easily drink the poor creature to dust at a whim. With a city of mouths to feed and a creature who could take months to regain a viable blood volume, the choice is obvious. A limited supply must be used to meet an unlimited demand. Those in power hold the supply as leverage over their underlings and reward the faithful with a few intoxicating drops of life. Addiction and fear are powerful tools indeed.)65

Seraph turned the corner out of Magdelina’s room and found Gabriel waiting for her. She lowered her face and prepared herself for the encounter.66

“You are indeed a fortunate creature,” he smiled, motioning at the dress.67

“Why are you here?” she asked, measuring her voice as to avoid hostility with such an open ended phrase.68

“I thought about earlier and decided that it would be best for you to have an escort back to your room, sparrow. You encountered trouble in that sack you wore earlier,” a grunt came from Magdelina’s room as he spoke, “how much more so in this delicate creation. You are positively radiant.” It was odd to hear such a comment from Gabriel and it took Seraph by surprise. She stole a glance upwards to see where his eyes fell and what sort of passions filled them when he said such flattering words. Her expectations were not disappointed. His predatory gaze traced along her ivory exposed arms and shoulders.69

“If you feel that it is necessary I shall not deny your company,” Seraph nodded and began the trek to her chambers, the muscular frame of a dead man at her side, “If my movements have become so dangerous, perhaps Samuel should not allow me to walk these halls alone. He seems confident in my safety. Is such confidence misplaced?”70

“Samuel is naïve where you are concerned, sparrow.” Seraph found herself once again jostled by Gabriel’s speech. She could not pass this statement off as easily. Every part of it, down to the inflection and cadence, reeked of some well and long hidden malice which appeared to be coming to a head.71

“Naïve? How so?” she prodded, mostly to gather further information on this new development but also because she was slightly peaked by the last statement and legitimately wanted to hear his response.72

“He lets a fawn roam the hunting grounds of a thousand predators alone and you ask me how he is naïve? His job is the maintenance of you and such conduct should come under harsh review.” Gabriel bared his teeth ever so slightly.73

“Do you vie for his position?” Silence followed her question. The silence hinted that the answer should be yes, but would be a highly qualified no.74

“No, I am not strong enough to spend so much time protecting something that I could easily take for myself in such a position,” He had taken the noble route. His own faults were all that kept him from pressing for Samuel’s removal. Seraph found this highly unlikely. Perhaps Gabriel stopped by to push for a mid-afternoon snack and Samuel had told him what-for. Such an encounter would surely explain at least some of the malice.75

“Samuel has never given me cause to complain. He is as measured as any of those who have been assigned my care.”76

“Then I am deeply sorry that so little has been done to keep you safe.”77

“Safety is a relative term,” Seraph whispered. She felt a hand press down on the base of her neck and squeeze at a more than uncomfortable pressure.78

“You would best remember the kindness shown you by those who house you, sparrow. You could be some street alley lurker’s perennial snack amidst the filth and rubbish. Count your blessings.”79

“Everyday I do,” Seraph’s voice quivered as she spoke. A tear rolled out of her eye, but she could not tell if it grew from her physical pain or her deep, abiding loneliness. How far she had fallen. The hand released and the pain subsided. They had reached her door. She moved away from him silently at first, then overcame her fear. “Why do you speak with such passion as I have never heard from you before?”80

“Some things are kept from you, sparrow, because they do not concern you. If you are observant, you may understand better at the banquet.”81

“I do very little observing at such events,” she nodded at his answer.