Bloodlines

The rain poured down as if there were no tomorrow, confining Ridley to her hostel room the whole night. French television, at night, had a lot of porn! Movies, series, advertisements, the works. There were so many phone calls Ridley received from her parents and Dane; so many messages; so many threats. She merely shrugged then put her phone on charge and ignored it as best she could. When the sun rose, Ridley was set. Her pint of blood was finished and that shot of Cognac was still singeing her chest with its 40% alcohol. Ankh too settled for the day.

When the moon came again, the two woke up. It was time take in Nice. Night life was not as abuzz as any day life. Most establishments were closed or closing; streets were quieting down, even if clubs grew louder; the beach clubs were desolate; and there was a perfumery being robbed. Despite that, Ankh and Ridley scanned over the city as they walked through it.

Nice was gorgeous with all its heritage and splendor. It is easy to understand why impressionist painters were drawn to Nice; the picturesque city resembles a pastel painting. Surrounded by the serene blue waters of the Baie des Anges and sheltered by the foothills of the Maritime Alps, Nice has a mild climate year-round.

The city was originally discovered in the 1820s by British aristocrats as a winter resort. Today, it is still a popular vacation destination. Considered the center of the French Riviera, Nice is the perfect starting point to explore the dazzling Côte d’Azur coastline. Nice is a place to enjoy life, to take in the beauty of the gardens and the sea, and to soak up the vibrant Mediterranean energy. The city has a distinctive Italian character that’s especially visible in the Old Town.

From wandering the quaint cobblestone streets to strolling the famous Promenade des Anglais, the joys of spending time in this beautiful city are endless.The picturesque Old Town of Nice, with its maze of narrow alleyways and cobblestone streets, has a lively ambience reminiscent of Italy. Popularly known as ′Babazouk’, the Vieille Ville begins at the western end of the Colline du Chateau - or Castle Hill - and is bounded by spacious boulevards, including the Jardin Albert I, Place Masséna, and Promenade du Paillon.

The southern end of the Old Town borders the Ponchettes market stalls at the Cours Saleya, where fishmongers and grocers sell fresh products. That seemed to be the extent of night life in the city; clearly it didn’t have a large nocturnal population.

Among the most memorable things in Nice was the famous Marché aux Fleurs, a traditional Provençal flower market with outdoor stalls featuring colorful striped awnings. There were bright lights hanging above the awnings that allowed nocturnal tourists to enjoy them just as much as daytime tourists.

Exploring the Old Town further, north of the Cours Saleya, tourists will come across the Palais de la Préfecture, the Nice Cathedral, a noteworthy seventeenth century Baroque church. The Palais de la Préfecture on Rue Alexandre Mari is a Neoclassical building, also known as Le Palais des Rois Sardes because it was the former palace of the kings of Sardinia.

The most emblematic street in Nice, the Promenade des Anglais, is a gorgeous pedestrian area that follows the curve of the Baie des Anges beaches. This legendary seaside road is lined with planted palm trees and filled with elegant gardens. It was also the best way to get to Chateaux du Luq! Or so the street signs say. That was the last place Ridley wanted to go.

The chateau was barely visible on its hill but it clearly was grand! There was more chateau than hill in the distance and darkness. Ankh playfully nudged Ridley in the side, egging her to go but the huntress shook her head with an uncertain hum. She turned away from the hill to be faced with a petite bistro. In that moment, she realised her last proper meal was in a different country.

Ankh followed her psionic counterpart to the doors of the eatery. On the windows on either side - in French, English, Spanish and Mandarin - were signs that all said the same two things. First was ‘no ampyra allowed’ and the second read ‘warning: be ware of hunters’.

The culture shock settled in; France was still in a state of segregation between ampyra and non-ampyra. It’s been that way since before the Scourges. In present times, segregation was limited but France certainly had it bad. That was a contributing factor to Monteiro and Monaco breaking away. That raised another realisation: was Ridley still a non-ampyra? There's no such thing as a goldblood non-ampyra, after all.

She looked to Ankh for an answer but the wolf may as well have shrugged her shoulders with a matching questioning expression. Swallowing the question, Ridley played her odds. Sweating a little she took off her jacket, revealing her gradus on her left forearm. Ankh sniffed the air that was rich with the aroma of southern French cuisine while she and Ridley tremendously stepped into the establishment. Her lips parted when she saw it was filled with hunters. Just with hunters. Of the estimated thirty patrons already there, only one had a dog with him. It was a doberman, obediently sitting next to the chair.

The decor was minimalist for the tight sitting area. The chairs were plain black leather facing small pinewood tables. The tables only had a small glass with a single candle in it. The ceiling lights were down lights. There was a small bar. Small as in, only one barman could man it at a time.

In front of the greeter’s podium, was a sign that read ‘hunter jobs & contracts available on request’. In Monteiro such establishments - sitting sieges - were illegal. During the Sourges, sitting sieges were taverns and brothels where hunters would meet to plan their assaults on ampyras. The culture shift from Monteiro’s acceptance to France’s intolerance was eye opening!

Ankh sniffed the podium while a waitress came to seat them. She had a Rogue gradus on her left eye that looked well worn in. The waitress had a gun in a holster visible on her hip and in her apron, was her ammunition. Piled to the brim. She led Ridley and Ankh to a table in the corner where no patrons were close by.

“Something to drink, mademoiselle,” she asked in French while laying the laminated menu before her customer. The waitress’ blonde braid fell forward, revealing the Scale of Justice on her neck. The waitress was also a lawyer. Or at the very least, she was an active hunter when she graduated with her law degree.

“No thank you,” Ridley replied sullenly.

While she haphazardly skimmed over the menu with Ankh on the booth seat, she saw something reminiscent. Bouillabaisse. A southern French fish dish. One that Clarke used to make when they still lived in Lanasia. It was one of few things Ridley and Ryan agreed on.

“Just a bouillabaisse, please.”

Ankh could feel the heavy loss through their link. “Are you okay?”

Ridley nodded wordlessly then clasped her hands together. Before the grey wolf could further exploit her psionic voice - for the occasions Ridley lowered her guard enough for it to seep through - the huntress dug in her pocket for her phone. Dane joined Clarke and Esmeralda on her list of missed phone calls.

In his messages, he just wanted to be sure that she was all right. The huntress began to type up ‘I’m fine. I’m with Ankh having brunch’ but she soon disregarded the chatroom. Ryan weighed heavy on her mind. The Hunter gradus on her wrist would always be a stark reminder of what she did.

The barman came up to their quaint table and laid a glass of whiskey with ice. Ridley furrowed her eyebrows at him. “From the gentleman with the green tie,” he stated then turned to the said hunter.

He held up his own glass of whiskey with a nod and looked a lot like Dane’s roommate, Marcus Sinclair. It was quite scary! Just from looking at him, Ridley could tell that he was an ampyra. There was just an air about him; an unassuming trait that was unseen. It proved he was an ampyra. The hunters around him had to be very uninterested or very ignorant to his presence.

He didn’t have any visible gradus, unlike the surrounding hunters! Some of them had gradus on their faces! There were only three gradus that went on the face; the Rogue, the Archangel and the Heir. Rogues were hunters that were excommunicardo.

Archangels were the highest level of distinguished marksmen; recognised for their international achievements. Non-hunter kids who dreamt of being hunters and hunter kids dreamt of being Archangels! They were the elite few, making up less than 0.002% of the total active hunting population, and the most lethal hunters there were! Of that 0.002%, none of them were woman.

Even in modern times, less than 20% of hunters were women. A woman had a higher chance of landing on Mars than being part of the top tier hunters. Not just Archangels: Paladins, Rangers, Presages, Enscrollements, Mastery ranking and Protectors. In The Hunt’s whole history there was only one woman who ever reached the top tier and not many know her name. She’s more recognised as the Red Queen. Even then, only really educated people know about the Red Queen.

The heirs were on the Elite Council that made up The Hunt Association supreme court. If those hunters were heirs, they would be in Dublin - the capital of the international hunting community. Not forgetting that the waitress was the only Rogue.

The waitress laid the plate before her Monteirian customer before going about her work. Ridley was still more focused on the ampyra that was so at ease with his potential demise. He had Marcus’ sparkling hazel-green eyes and wavy hair. The difference was that Marcus’ hair was a dusty blond and this man’s hair was dark.

The huntress cleared her throat when Ankh snorted at her. She turned to her wolf counterpart who just looked at her. “I didn’t even ask if you wanted something,” Ridley stated and Ankh licked her lips. “Would you like something to eat, Ankh?” Her grey eyes darted to the floor as she laid down and flattened her ears.

It took some time to pass. The young huntress watched the world pass by. France really was a world away from Monteiro. Monteiro’s French-Italian blend and equalist, forward thinking were nothing compared to France’s signature style and separatist movement.

It was hard to imagine a life where ampyra and non-ampyra were on opposite ends of the social spectrum when her oldest friend was an ampyra from a time when she wasn’t. There wasn’t a definitive way to differentiate between ampyra and their non-ampyra cousins, though France clearly seemed to think there was.

Not that it wasn’t understandable. The French monarchy was ampyra - the only country in the whole world to ever have that. Considering the damage King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette and Robespirre - who was also an ampyra - did to the country, it created a stigma.

The Reign of Terror saw mass executions of non-ampyrakind, at a time when the politically correct terms were still mundane ‘human’ and the derogatory ‘vampire’. Execution via the guillotine of the ‘French aristocrats’ was just a cover for ampyras like Robespirre to exterminate non-ampyras while the ones like Arranes gave ampyras the feudal power. Even if feudalism ended with the beheading of King Louis XVI.

Ridley looked back down at her bouillabaisse and dug in. The steamy mussels were soft and spongey and the taste of southern France as well as the memories of Clarke entertaining her and Ryan while cooking all burst in her mouth. The European hake was seasoned to perfection, the squid, cooked beautifully and the soup was just as flavourful as Clarke’s, though not at homely.

For a sitting siege, the food was spectacular! Usually focus was on drinks and warfare but the bouillabaisse? Even Ankh could sense how touched all of Ridley’s sense were. The huntress hummed her delight was she was finished. She glanced back at the ampyra, who had his whiskey refilled.

She looked to her own and didn’t want it. She wasn’t about to drink something that had a chance of being spiked. She paid for her meal and she and Ankh were on their way. The crisp January cool didn’t bother them or their stroll through the streets of Nice.

There wasn’t an awful lot to do at night; the cinemas were closed, bars were restricted to either ampyra or non-ampyra - which ruined half the fun, jetskiing and parasailing were dangerous in the dark and the inland tours only opened during the daylight period. There was a bus trip to Monte Carlo and an art museum.

Ridley didn’t have time to ponder the two options when she looked down at the cobblestone path. Renee’s memories took over her senses. The deceased goldblood was also looking down at the cobblestones beneath her pedicured toes. A pair of formal gentleman’s shoes paused before her.

When Renee looked up, a pair of narrow eyes were looking back at her. “Mr Wu,” she sneered. “You’re late!”

“Apologies, lady du Luq,” he replied with a fearful bow. “There is only so much I can do when you execute our informants.” Renee narrowed her eyes on him threateningly. “But I was successful in my research. I can confirm that the Garnier girl was correct. That Earnest gentleman is here in Nice.”

“He cannot possibly be residing in Chateaux du Luq! I cannot face Tomás without being immortal! Not only would he kill me but he would never accept me.”

“I do not know where he is, my lady,” Mr Wu replied and Renee lost her patience with him. Her tight grip coiled around his throat. She effortlessly lifted him off the ground. “Wait,” he pleaded. “He... he’s... Earnest... the Source.”

Renee gasped then released the short Chinese man, who gasped for air. “What did you say,” she inquired stiff from disbelief.

“This Earnest, he... he is the Source.”

“Are you certain of this?”

“I am, my lady.” The goldblood sputtered her disbelief then turned away with a hysterical gape on her face. “And there is more.” She spun eagerly back to Mr Wu. “There are others. Goldbloods. They too are looking for him. From my associate’s understanding, they are also after his power but not in your intended way. They want his power to create more eldritches. They want to reclaim the world.”

“Interesting. It’s just too bad that I will reclaim the world first,” Renee stated thoughtfully.

“My lady?”

“I’m changing my motive, you delinquent! I have to drink the tampered blood of my own child to become immortal. Then I will need Earnest to show me how to control that new power. Instead of stopping there, I can create more immortals! Goldblood immortals. I will ignite the revolution to take over the world. I won’t rule the world because I will have Tomás. He will finally accept me.”

Ridley closed her eyes as the memory faded and Ankh was looking at her quizzically, also feeling the memory fade. “Well, her plan clearly worked out,” Ridley replied sarcastically. “But there’re others looking for this Earnest joker. Could he really be the Source?”

Ankh only looked at her. The huntress went thoughtful then gestured for the wolf to follow. Ridley ducked into an empty ally and buried herself in the darkness. She inhaled deeply and scanned through her mother’s memories for any confirmation other than the words of someone who was probably dead.

There wasn’t much to look for. Renee was adamant about going to Chateaux du Luq to find the Source and forbid Mr Wu from going. She soon created her lynx army before leaving France for Monteiro. She was angry that she didn’t have her answers before heading for Dunon Academy, where she ultimately died.

The only helpful thing from the dregs of Renee’s memories were that Mr Wu was still alive and still awaiting her arrival. Ridley managed to confine him to a private investigator’s office that worked exclusively with ampyra on Jean Médecin Street. Further down the street, passed the McDonald’s. It was only a twelve minute walk from the inn, according to Google.

There was a great strain that came from plummeting into long-term memories. Ridley’s nose started dripping black and gold blood and a wave of nausea crashed over her. She leaned against the sandstone wall, only to slip over her own feet and hit her head on the ground. She knocked herself unconscious but not before seeing a pair of men’s shoes approaching her. The last thing she heard was Ankh snarl angrily.