Vexed

Only two limbs remained on his now, unrecognizable body.

His sweet blood was no doubt like heroin to desperate Vexers, who, hunting alone were pretty powerless, but as a swarm, could kill in seconds.

I decided to lay next to him, just as I had for so many years before. Our domestic bliss was just a distant memory at this point, one filled with teasing and tenderness. As I nuzzled my heavy head into his hollowed chest and kissed each inch of skin my mouth grazed, accidentally or otherwise, I felt cold metal on my lips. The surprising sensation brought me enough energy to promptly pull my face away and search for its source. Once my hazy vision settled, I saw what was previously just another anniversary gift. A silver, heart-shaped locket that I’d given to him long ago was hanging eerily from his neck as a symbol of the love we, and many, shared before the earth became like this. And contrary to long-held traditions of residents at King’s Cove, an image was not at the pendant’s core. Instead, strands of hair from our daughter Dana looped within its secure shell, serving as a reminder that those who seek blood have no mercy for anyone. Even two-year-olds.

Not so long ago, “vex" was nothing but an abstract feeling that came when trivialities felt like betrayals. But, in 2205, the meaning of the word changed the moment a single man adopted it as his own, to represent his clan and newfound desire for bloodletting. That desire quickly expanded among other fraught people, who had heard of the alleged immortal power each drop could bring, once consumed in a particularly sinister way. Only one flask was what the initiator said was needed to create the vile potion. But, to work, it had to be taken by force. And those who wanted it, didn’t care much for measurements. They sought a lifetime supply that could keep their ageing bodies at a young enough state to function with perpetual strength, and still have some left to showcase dominance among their clan.

The myth of Vexers was oddly funny at first to us, who lived comfortably in the well-know and safe downtown core of King’s Cove. Our opulent lifestyles felt normal and we spent everyday melting into it. Leather-lined cars, vintage wines, and expensive dinner parties filled with lush guests who held large accounts at Blooming Hall Bank, all made welcomed appearances in my family’s weekly schedule. When he’d notice us spoiling ourselves too much, James would sometimes say, “If we don’t eat all of it, we’ll soon become caviar ourselves.” His sense of humour was a tier below mine, I’d often remind him, jokingly. But, he’d persist, making silly remarks that brought a welcomed pain in my cheeks from how much I’d smile. And as my eyes would roll, mid-grin, he’d quickly make his way closer to kiss the teeth exposed from his amusing words. But, the day we found out laughter was no longer an appropriate response to the Vexers, we opted for flight, as fear became the only thing left. Running away was not usually a solution we’d choose, but our baby girl was just a toddler. With such young blood, she’d surely be taken to the Elder Vexers if one of their kind got hold of her. And to the people who began this whole thing, sympathy wouldn’t be a priority.

“Take her through the back while I pack more food,” James said, the night we saw our home for the very last time.

“What about you?"

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it before they get here. Trust me. I’ll meet you behind Krip Bridge,” he said, sternly. “Go.”

I quickly wrapped Dana in a tight package of fabric and hid her body close to mine, in hopes of misleading any potentially threatening onlookers. She tried speaking half-words through my clutch, but I hushed her gently under my breath. With a muslin backpack filled with supplies, tightly fitted on my shoulders, I headed out the back door toward our settled-on spot. As soon as I stepped foot onto the charcoal-coloured road, covered in ashes, I could smell it. Blood and rot were all that was left to the senses and gave confirmation that danger was near. With my head down, I treaded through the seemingly, nearly empty path. On my way, I passed a number of mutilated, middle-aged men who were sprawled on the road, bleeding to death. In my world, that demographic had always been most-powerful, but here, their blood was among the least desirable. Still, Vexers showed no compassion and would remove their unwanted limbs to store for possible future use.

Upon arrival at my destination, I finally released tears. They were quicker than expected, travelling from my lids to the bottom of my jaw in seconds. And they felt warm, which was new to my shivering body. Before they could evaporate, I used them to heat the target I’d been holding. Each finger that I could free from my grip of her, became a temporary host to the drops that I hoped would provide a brief sense of comfort to Dana’s skin. As she felt my wet, tepid hand lay down my grief on her face, she smiled. Her smile, like mine, was one that often came with resistance. Though we'd often try not to let one out, we couldn’t help it, which James adored. And as promised, soon after I arrived, there he was making his way to greet us behind the bridge. That was the last time we were all together, before she was taken.

I struggled to open the locket for a final feel of Dana’s locks. We’d survived nearly 10 years since she’d been captured, but we’d never had the heart to open it until mine begged me to, just then. Trembling, I took a go at it. And as soon as it popped open, dark and curly memories of my dear girl fell out. Short hairs were scattered across my face and her smell came with it. At the sound of the cry I let out because of them, James’ mostly-gone body twitched. We’d been able to live for so long, incognito, but earlier this month some of the last Vexers got him. A few years ago, a rebel group took over and successfully eliminated the bloodletting practice and all those who revelled in it. But, the remaining few who still took pride in this torture were out for revenge and would stop at nothing to get it. One day was all it took for us. One day of letting our guard down just a bit, in the hope of a new life, led us here. Here, I decided, would not be tainted by the despair of death. Here, would be where the love I have held for my husband and our lost girl, would plant into the soil to create new life someday. Like seeds, we’d be buried overtime in dirt, but would extend our roots so far that each of those who survived would live above them. Their homes would be built on what we fertilize and their families would grow to become stronger than all those who walked before.

At James’ slight shift, I weakened more. Life was escaping us both, as though it was never ours to begin with. But, at its final fading, we managed to look at each other one last time. He couldn’t speak through the frailty, but I knew what he was saying. His deep, brown eyes told me everything. I loved him too. And as one last gift of love, I smiled. Each visible tooth gave him peace, I could tell. And with peace, painlessness took over, accompanied by death. Mine was near too, I knew it. But, I had one more thought before it could take me. It was silly, but fitting. And it was all about him and caviar.